Archive of Our Own ^beta

Harry decides that he’s the best friend ever. Seriously, who is prepared to fold themselves into a freshly pressed suit on one of their rare days off to attend a wedding they have no reason to attend? Well, he has a reason, obviously. Ed asked him to. There was a long-winded spiel that involved nagging mothers, diversion tactics and possibly Ed emigrating to live as a hermit in the Himalayas. Harry tuned him out some time before that. (So maybe he’s not the best friend. He’s still a pretty good one.)

“You’re such a pushover,” Louis says, leaning against the frame of Harry’s bedroom door, watching him zip up his suit bag.

“I’m a good friend.”

“Nope, you’re a pushover.”

“Whatever.”

Louis’ grin is bright like the sunshine outside and Harry shakes his head fondly.

“When’s Ella getting here?”

“Oh, I’m picking her up.”

“What are you still doing here then?”

“Saying goodbye to you, you twat!”

“Oh, go be with your mistress, see if I care.” Harry puts on a show of not looking at Louis and raising his nose in the air, earning himself a laugh from him. Their eyes meet after a moment in a shared smile. Harry slings the suit over one arm, stuffs his phone down one skinny jean pocket and his wallet down the other and grabs his keys and a box of shoes on the way out of the room.

“Well, since you’re going to see your mistress, I figure we’re even.” Louis trails him to the door, pulling a beanie onto his own hair. By now they’ve worn them so much they’re almost useless as disguises, but it’s nice to pretend anyway.

“You’re an idiot and I don’t know why I still like you,” Harry says while he laces up his shoes.

“Because you’re an idiot too.”

“That would make sense, I suppose.”

“Now who’s the idiot?”

“Still you.”

Harry locks up after them and they banter all the way down to the garage. He has a brief moment of wondering how this is his life, when Louis unlocks his Porsche and he does the same to his Audi next to it.

“Say hi to Ed.”

“And you to Ella.”

They pull each other into a side-ways one-armed goodbye hug, before Harry tries to wiggle his suit bag into the boot space in some sort of optimum no-creases position. He stands back as Louis pulls out of his parking space and waves at him before he drives off and then gets in the car himself. A glance at the clock on the dashboard tells him he’s got spare time yet, but he doesn’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic.

As these things are wont to go, having planned for a possible traffic delay on his way to Ed’s, he encounters absolutely none and pulls up in front of his building in what feels like record time. With a quick look about for anyone who looks like they’re carrying a camera around professionally, he ducks into the apartment complex. The lift always takes forever and Ed only lives on the third floor, so he takes the stairs two at a time. (Well, for the first two floors anyway. Then he slows down a bit.)

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Ed asks incredulously when he opens the door to Harry and sees him standing there in his skinnies and t-shirt.

“No, of course not. My suit’s in the car. Which we will be sitting in for at least two hours. Which would crease the suit. Which is why I’m not wearing it. The only question that remains is why you’re already half in yours…?”

“Oh, shut up, Mr. Fashionista.”

“Just go change, we’ve got a bit of time still.”

While Ed goes right back into his bedroom to get changed and absolutely not fight an embarrassed blush off his cheeks, Harry takes a detour to the kitchen for a glass of water before joining him.

“What about shoes?” Harry asks as he watches Ed zip up his own suit bag (that he feels a bit bad for being impressed by). Ed only gestures to the bright blue pair of high-top trainers he’s wearing.

“Are those the ones from the BRITs?”

“Yep.”

“You’re literally gonna wear the exact same outfit you wore to the BRITs to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Problem?”

“A bit, yeah. Which is why I brought you shoes and a tie.”

“You what now? I can dress myself, thank you very much, asshole.”

“Listen, you said you want your mum to back off, yeah? Easiest way to do that is to give her what she wants. I’m pretty sure that’s not you putting in what seems like absolutely no effort at all. Plus, come on, please let me make you look just slightly fashionable? Just this once? Please?”

The hard look on Ed’s face softens to something like exasperation at Harry’s whining.

“How d’you know my size anyway?”

“I asked Stuart,” Harry says, the “duh”, very heavily implied in his voice. Ed mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “traitor” in response and heaves a sigh.

“Fine. But only this once and only because I really don’t have the energy to deal with my mum’s worrying over my lack of love life. Or any kind of life, for that matter. Like being an international pop star isn’t enough for that woman. And I don’t have the energy to be mad at you either, you presumptuous little fuck.”

“You love me,” Harry grins in triumph.

“God knows why.”

“I’m lovable.”

“And so humble.”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, come on, lovable, let’s leave or we’ll end up late after all. And I get to choose the music.”

“Alright, sure.”

Harry’s easy agreement isn’t exactly what Ed’s been hoping for, but he has a couple tracks in his figurative back pocket that he knows for a fact Harry won’t like. If he were being honest, letting Harry dress him isn’t that much of a hardship anyway. It’s just the principle of the matter, really. Whether he wears a different tie and a pair of dress shoes with it or not will probably not make the suit that much more or less uncomfortable. Harry on the other hand has been begging to be allowed to dress Ed just once (“I have not.” – “Yes, you have.” – “I’ve been asking. Passionately.” – “So, begging then?” – “Oh shut up.”) for a while and if it’s gonna make him happy, who is Ed to deny him?

They pass the drive with chatter, catching up on each other’s lives and the occasional spontaneous Disney sing along because Ed’s phone is the most random collection of music and he’s given up trying to annoy Harry with his song choices in the face of his stoic apathy. They end up being a bit earlier than expected and use the fact that Ed’s family are not outside waiting for them yet to their advantage and sneak inside. (“Wow, Edward, you truly are the picture of maturity.” – “Hush, you.”) Harry is a bit surprised they actually end up making it into the changing room for the groom and groomsmen without being spotted, but Ed grins triumphantly at him like he’s known all along. During the ensuing congratulations and back slapping and quick catching up, Harry opts to hang back, even though it makes him look a bit like he’s waiting for a bus everyone else knows won’t come. The slightly curious looks in his direction don’t help, but he’s gotten used to them by now.

There’s a break in the conversation then and Ed seems to remember that Harry’s there.

“Everyone, this is Harry. Harry – ... these people can introduce themselves, frankly. This one’s James, the groom.”

“Congratulations,” Harry says and shakes his hand.

“You can get changed back there,” James says and nods toward a curtained off corner. “You, uh, don’t mind sharing, do you?”

Ed snorts and shoots Harry a teasing grin.

“Like Harry ever minds taking his clothes off.”

Behind and unseen by Ed, James’ eyes widen in something like recognition. Harry takes a breath, set to correct him, but then decides not to. Watching Ed dig his own grave and attempt to climb back out of it sounds far too amusing to pass up. So he leaves it at a smirk and lets Ed trail behind him as he turns to go get changed. They keep bumping into each other with elbows and knees and errant limbs, but manage to get into their suits without major injuries. Since neither of them wants to try mustering the coordination of bending to tie their shoes in such a tiny space, they sit down on chairs back outside the curtain to do so.

“These are dead uncomfortable,” Ed says as he laces his up.

“No, they’re not, they’re just not a ratty, worn pair of trainers. Quit being such a child.”

Harry laces up his own boots and rolls the pant legs down over them while Ed ineffectively glares at him for his dismissal.

“And what’s wrong with my tie anyway? It’s a nice colour and it goes with the bloody suit.”

“It’s too broad,” Harry merely says, eyes fixed on where he’s flipping up Ed’s collar and winding the decidedly slimmer (but not wholly skinny) tie around his neck.

“Why don’t you have to wear one then?”

“Because my suit works better without one and these buttons are meant to be seen.”

Demonstratively Harry passes a hand along the black, square buttons that sit in a neat line down the front of his crisp, white shirt. He has to re-do the knot of Ed’s tie twice before it sits at the proper length and then closes the button of his jacket over it and turns Ed around toward the mirror propped up against a wall.

“Admit it. This is much better.”

Ed doesn’t get to admit or deny anything though, because that’s the moment his father strolls into the room, smiling over at them both and pulling Ed into a bear hug as a greeting.

“Long time no see, son. We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost somewhere over the Atlantic.”

“You just saw me a couple weeks ago!”

“Well, it feels like longer. And – Harry. It’s nice to finally properly meet you.”

“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Sheeran.”

“Oh, please, call me Paul.”

“Paul it is.”

“Well, then Harry, why don’t you come with me? Sheila’ll want to say hello as well and Ed’ll be busy here anyway.”

“Sure,” Harry says before turning to Ed. “Don’t you dare change when I’m gone.”

“Please. Too much effort.”

“Good. See you later then.”

Leaving Ed to his groomsman-ly duties, Harry let Paul lead him into the altar room, chatting about life with the band and footie and the importance of a good Sunday roast. He and Sheila spend the 30 minutes leading up to the ceremony introducing him to everyone and once a pen is located, Harry signs a few scraps of paper and wedding programs, something that has Ed’s parents apologizing over and over, even though he’s promised he doesn’t mind. One of the little girls, Bianca, who Harry’s honestly forgotten where she belongs, takes a special shine to him and follows him around until he picks her up and props her on his hip. She seems adamant about not leaving his side and Harry ends up letting her sit on his lap through the ceremony and whispering explanations of what’s going on to her. She’s still got her tiny arms wrapped around his neck and her legs clamped around his waist when Ed comes to find them after the ceremony, shortly before they’re all set to leave for the reception.

“Can’t take you anywhere without girls flocking to you, can I?”

“One hardly counts as a flock. Do you, princess?” Harry tickles her under her soft little chin with a smile and she giggles and shakes her head. Ed rolls his eyes but his smile gives away that he’s glad Harry’s not having a hard time fitting in with his family. He is doing him a favour by keeping him company and acting as a buffer between his mum and him. And being his chauffeur.

“Hi, mum,” Ed then turns to his mother and kisses her on the cheek, before she pulls him into a hug much like his father had.

“It’s so lovely to see you again, darling. And you didn’t come alone!”

“Your threats were seriously horrifying, woman.”

“It’s called tough love. Now, let me take a picture of you two, you look so handsome. And you match with your suit and tie and all.”

They both drop their gaze to Ed’s tie and then to Harry’s suit, that are indeed a very similar shade of grey.

“Not on purpose, I promise,” Harry says.

“However did you get him to wear an actual pair of shoes, Harry?”

“Just asked nicely.”

“Well, we’ll be sure to keep you around. You’re a great influence on our dear Edward.”

“Can you get on with the photo, mum, I want to get changed.”

“Yes, yes.” Sheila rolls her eyes, but pulls her little digital camera out of her clutch purse and takes a few steps back, looking down at the camera to adjust the settings on it.

“Do you want to be in the photo as well?” Harry asks Bianca, who smiles up at him brilliantly and nods.

“Alright then. Look over to Sheila and give your best smile, yeah?”

She whips her head about so quickly her hair ends up whipping Harry in the face and pulls her lips back in a huge grin that shows off all of her pearly white milk teeth. Harry has one arm around her to support her on his slightly cocked hip and the other one shoved into his trouser pocket, so Ed shuffles next to him slightly awkwardly.

“Oh, don’t be so stiff, Edward,” Ed’s mum complains from behind her camera, so he rolls his eyes and puts a hand on Harry’s back.

“Come on, woman, it’s not the two of us getting married.”

Harry snorts at the comment and the mental image of the picture they probably make – dressed up in suits and an adorable little girl on his arm that’s clinging to him and beaming at the camera. They could certainly play the part of the newlywed couple like that.

Sheila takes what seems to be endless photos and it’s only practice that is keeping Harry patient and smiling, but Bianca is starting to wriggle in his arms and flinches every time the flash goes off, until she turns and hides her face against Harry’s chest, blinking against the colourful spots before her eyes. Harry automatically pulls his second hand out of his pocket and cards it through her hair.

“It’ll go back to normal in a moment. Do you seen green spots too or are yours orange?”

She looks around for the spots a bit before answering.

“Both.”

“Ah, well, once they’re green, they’re almost gone. And until then I’ll just carry you, okay?”

“Can I drive with you and Ed to the reception?”

“No, sweetie, sorry, but there’s only room for two people in my car,” Harry says. She looks at him with wide eyes like she’s never heard an idea so ridiculous.

“It’s a very small car.”

“Like clowns use at the circus? But they can fit a lot more than two people in there!”

Ed laughs at their conversation and Harry’s pretty sure Sheila snapped a photo of that as well. By the fond smile on her face Harry can easily tell what she’s thinking and Harry wonders how it is that Ed hasn’t cottoned on to what all his family think of them yet, but decides to keep waiting for it, feeling a bit giddy with anticipation.

“Well, clowns don’t have to drive the car on an actual street. And they take everything out of the car before they pile inside, even the seats! They have to stand on the floor or a few metal rods, you know?”

Bianca’s eyes go even wider at Harry’s explanation and she’s about to ask another question, when her mother comes over, smiling at them indulgently.

“Thank you so much for looking after her.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

“She was quite cranky this morning, I don’t know how you did it.”

“It’s the curls,” Ed says and earns himself a round of laughter, Sheila having joined them again as well.

“Well, come on, Bianca, you’ll see Harry at the reception, but you’ve gotta let him go now.”

She turns to him with big eyes like she doesn’t believe her mum and Harry taps her nose.

“Go on. I’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Yes! Bye, Harry and Ed and Sheila!” She wriggles for Harry to set her on the ground, grabs her mum’s hand and starts blabbering about how clown cars are empty to fit all the clowns inside, mum, Harry said so.

“Really, though, four years old is a bit young for you, Styles.”

“Don’t be mean, Ed. Harry has been very lovely.”

Ed rolls his eyes at his mother’s blatant favouritism while Harry sends him a smug smile.

“Now, I’m sure you’re dying to go change, so I won’t hold you back any longer. Are you alright to find the hotel for the reception?”

“Yeah, James gave me directions. We should be fine.”

“Alright, darling. I’ll see you two later then.”

“Bye, mum.”

“Bye, Sheila.”

They don’t take two steps until Ed reaches up to tug the tie loose.

“This thing is strangling me. What did you do to it?”

“It’s not strangling you. And don’t think you’re taking it off either.”

“The ceremony’s over! You don’t actually expect me to keep this on for the reception, do you? Cause if so, you’re dreaming.”

“Of course not. You can change into your jeans and trainers and take off the jacket. But the shirt and tie stay on. It’s still a wedding.”

“Who put you in charge of my wardrobe anyway?”

“I did.”

Harry pokes his tongue out at Ed, who makes to grab for it, making Harry snap his head back and shoot him a horrified look.

“Better keep that away then.”

“You are one weird child.”

“Said Harry Styles.”

Ed jumps out of reach of Harry’s hand that’s trying to swat at him and they end up trying to grab and jab at each other all the way back to the groomsmen’s room. Most of the bridal party has already left and they get the room to themselves. Ed barely opens the bow on his shoes before he slips out of them and Harry refrains from commenting on it, focussing instead on getting changed himself.

“So, why do you get to wear a t-shirt?” Ed asks, when he sees Harry shuck his shirt for a simple, white v-necked t-shirt.

“Because I’m keeping my blazer,” Harry says and rolls up the sleeves to reveal the inside lined with a deep shade of red the same colour as his pocket hanky.

“You are such a fashion victim,” Ed says and buckles the belt on his jeans.

“I wouldn’t say ‘victim’, really. I’m pretty sure fashion rarely gets one over on me anymore. You on the other hand...” He trails off and ignores Ed’s lifted eyebrow in his direction, collecting his suit instead and putting it back into its bag.

“Roll up your sleeves, you probably won’t want to watch your cuffs.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Harry’s not quite sure how they manage to fit both their suit bags back into his car. It was a struggle the first time around and he honestly hasn’t thought it’d work that easily the second time. Probably Mary Poppins had her hands in the design of it or something. Ed plugs his phone into the sound system again, even though this drive is decidedly shorter than the last one, just about 20 minutes. (Although they take a wrong turn once and end up taking 30 minutes.)

As soon as they arrive, Sheila waves them over to sit with her and Harry takes a moment to take in the room. The tables are set along three sides of the room to form one long table, while the band and dance floor are set up outside on the terrace with all the doors open. Chairs and little tables litter the grass outside. It’s lovely. Halfway through the fish course Bianca comes running over to them, her mother trailing her exhaustedly while her husband holds on to the baby twins.

“Hi, Harry!” she chirps up at him and grabs hold of his blazer.

“Hey, Bianca. Are you enjoying your food?”

“I want to sit with you,” she says instead of an answer.

“I’m so sorry. She’s been asking for you the whole time and just spotted you.”

“It’s quite alright. She can stay if you don’t mind,” Harry says. The relieved look on her mum’s face is really all the permission Harry needs and he scoots back and pulls her up to sit on his lap.

“Thank you so much. I’ll tell the waiters to bring her food here. Be good for Harry now, Bianca.”

“Okay, mummy,” she says, but already starts rolling around Harry’s napkin ring over the white table cloth. Harry moves the wine glasses further out of reach. Being the designated driver, or more like the only available driver, he doesn’t plan on drinking anyway.

“We won’t go out of sight,” Harry promises and with a last smile Bianca’s mother hurries back to where one of the twins seems to have found a reason to start crying. Much as he loves kids, sometimes he seriously debates never having any.

“You’re very good with children,” Sheila says and smiles at him.

“Only because I know I can give them back,” Harry says and winks at her, before turning to smile at Bianca, just in case she took offense at that. He’s honestly a bit glad for the distraction she brings, because he’s not sure how much longer he can listen to Ed stumbling through conversations with his mother he doesn’t even realise he’s having. (“So, how did you... meet?” – “I’ve told you that before, mum. Through Chris.”)

After dessert has been cleared and the first few dances had, the newlyweds ask Ed to play a song or two and with a party of 100 people cheering him on, it’s not exactly like he can refuse. He has sort of been expecting this to happen anyway.

“Go on, then,” Harry says from beside him, laughing.

“Oh, don’t think you’re sitting this one out. If I’m doing this, you’re coming with me.”

“What? No, no, no, no. This is not my family’s wedding. This is all on you.”

“Nope. Come on.”

Ed stands up and demonstratively holds out a hand to Harry, an eyebrow raised in challenge. Obviously the whole rooms catches on and starts chanting for Harry to join in and, well. Harry’s not good at refusing people either.

“I really hate you right now.”

“You know my songs by heart and you’re supposed to be good at harmonising, aren’t you?” Ed only says. The band outside make way for them and one of them hands Ed the acoustic guitar – larger than Ed’s used to, but it’s not gonna be a problem – while another one brings them two stools to sit on.

“At least tell me what you’re gonna play?”

“Well, not Small Bump,” Ed says quietly, nodding towards the bride’s tiny baby bump. Harry hides an amused snort by ducking his head before accepting the microphone he’s handed and taking a seat. Ed adjusts the mic stand in front of him before addressing the crowd that has gathered.

“Let it be known that we were peer pressured into this and this is unrehearsed and unplugged and not even my guitar and also we’ve never performed together, so. Yeah. We’re gonna start off with ‘Kiss Me’ cause that’s what I wrote for a wedding, even if it wasn’t this one.”

Ed looks over at Harry who gives him a subtle nod and then starts strumming away on the guitar strings. His fingers slip a bit through the first verse but by the chorus, he’s gotten used to the foreign instrument. Harry joins him in the chorus and really does know how to harmonize. There’s a smattering of applause and Ed gives Harry a nod to let him take the second verse. It’s fun, trading lines back and forth and playing around with the harmonies. Harry’s tone is rough and rock star-y in a way that Ed’s was never gonna be and it gives the song a tint it never had before. They run through Give Me Love, Fireflies and Drunk before the band starts getting antsy.

“Okay, we’re gonna do one more. This one’s Harry’s favourite. I don’t know why he likes songs about dead chickens, but well, what can you do. He’s a weirdo, but be nice to him.”

Harry’s laugh gets stuck in his throat and is clearly audible through the first few lines of the song, but by the second verse he’s managed to shake it off. They leave the stage to cheers and applause and find their way back Ed’s parents. Bianca immediately claims Harry’s attention again and starts to drag him off to show him whatever it is she’s so excited about. It turns out that Kate can make daisy chains.

Ed for his part is glad that his mum lets up on him at some point and he gets to go round and talk to his cousins and mates he hasn’t seen in a while. Harry waves him off and cites the girls as entertainment when he asks if he wants to tag along. It’s an hour or two later when he finds himself taking a moment to breathe and watching Harry twirl Bianca and Claire’s little girl – Kate? – around on the dance floor, a daisy chain in his hair, that his mum hands him a glass of champagne and comes to stand next to him.

“He’s rather lovely,” she says. Ed can’t resist the twitch in his lips because whether he means to or not, Harry wraps everyone he meets around his little finger.

“Yeah, he’s a good lad.”

“It’s not exactly what we were expecting, but I’m glad. I was really starting to worry you still hadn’t let go of Alice. She was a lovely girl, but-”

“Mum, we’ve been over this. I have gotten over Alice. I’m just too busy right now to bother finding someone.”

“Not too busy for Harry though.” There’s a scary teasing glint in her eyes and Ed’s world screeches to a halt with what he imagines would be underlined with the sound of a record being stopped if this were a movie.

“What?” is all he can ask.

“I really hope you didn’t feel like you had to hide this from your father and I? We don’t think of you any differently for who you love, dear. Well, a bit differently, obviously, but we love you no less. And we have your brother for grandchildren, or I suppose there’s always adoption-”

“No, wait, hang on. What are you on about?”

“Well, you and Harry of course. We didn’t know you were ... that way inclined, but, darling, we’re catholic, not the Ku Klux Klan. Love’s love.”

“Mum, Harry and I are friends. We’re not dating.”

“Oh, whatever it is you kids call it these days then. It’s not like that matters.”

“No, you don’t get what I’m saying. We’re not romantically or sexually involved in any way, shape or form. We’re friends. Actual just friends.”

“Honestly, Teddy, there’s no need-”

“Mum!” Ed cuts her off, because once she goes to “Teddy”, there’s no changing her mind. At least not quickly. So instead of attempting that, he goes to get back-up. Setting his empty glass of champagne down on a near-by table, he weaves through the dance floor towards Harry’s distinctive head of curls.

“Can you please go tell my mother we’re not in love,” he says instead of a greeting when he gets to him. Harry’s got one little girl’s hand in each of his with them grasping each other’s in a little round dance. Ed’s outburst gets him three sets of surprised eyes fixed on him, before Harry barks out that startled laugh of his, letting go of the girls’ hands and actually putting them on his knees as he doubles over in laughter.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Yes, it is!” Harry gasps in between laughter. “How has it taken you hours to figure out that everyone assumed we’re here as a couple? It was literally the first thing James asked us.”

“What? No, he- oh. Damn you, Styles, you knew?!”

“And you were playing right into everyone’s assumptions! Oh god, that was the best part!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ed’s sure he’s blushing horribly at the moment, but the longer he thinks about it, the more moments he remembers that suddenly look a little different through the lens of knowledge that basically everyone here assumes they’re dating each other. Harry takes a shaky breath and wipes the tears that have sprung from his eyes away.

“What made you realise anyway?”

“My mum gave me a speech about adopting grandchildren and loving me all the same.”

That sets Harry off again and he falls into another set of giggles. Bianca and Kate look a little weirded out by now and Ed honestly doesn’t blame them. When Harry loses it, he really does so spectacularly.

“Oh, that’s amazing.”

“Yes, I’m an oblivious little idiot, now can you go and clear this up, please?”

“Why, am I not good enough for you?” Harry teases. Ed only spares him a loaded look.

“We’re at a wedding. Dance with me,” Harry says. He reaches for Ed’s hand and pulls it to his waist, taking a step closer and almost crowding in. There’s still enough space between them not to be invasive, but he’s obviously closer than mates usually are.

“One dance.”

For some reason, Ed finds himself agreeing. Or, well, he sighs as though he’s very put upon, ignores the hot flush in the back of his neck and puts his second hand on Harry’s waist as well, while Harry’s wrists come to lay on his shoulders, his fingers loosely linked behind Ed’s head.

“You’re so strange,” Ed says in a murmur, only for something to say. Harry’s smile is small but sincere.

“I know.”

Ed looks at him then and there’s something there in Harry’s eyes that makes the air shift. It’s not undying devotion or a hidden crush suddenly visible or anything like that. It’s a bit of insecurity and maybe a bit of possibility too. Maybe it’s the champagne bubbling in his veins or the cicadas chirring in the grass or the settling light of dusk, but it roots Ed to the spot at Harry’s side and makes him sway with him to some sort of melody he doesn’t pay enough attention to recognise. In some back corner of his mind he’s aware that they’re probably attracting curious looks, but he doesn’t pay that much mind either. He just focuses on the warmth of Harry’s body through the fabric of his clothes and the uncoordinated way they both mostly try not to stumble or crash into each other.

Bianca and Kate come back and demand to be held again, so they heave one up on a hip each and reach for each other’s hands with their free ones, letting the girls put their tiny arms around each other as well. They turn a bit on the spot like that, the four of them, until Bianca drops Kate’s hand and her head against Harry’s shoulder, dozing off not a minute later.

“She’s really sleepy,” Kate comments and Harry lifts her a bit higher into his arms, so he can comfortably carry her back to her mother. Ed and Kate trail behind them. Claire is sitting with Bianca’s mum anyway and Kate immediately lets go of Ed to tell her mother all about the adventures she and Bianca have had. Bianca’s mum – Anna, Ed remembers – thanks Harry profusely for looking after her for the day and Harry waves it all off with a smile. If Ed didn’t know better, he’d say Harry was trying to get into everyone’s good graces.

The evening light vanishes quickly now and Harry glances at his wrist watch.

“D’you mind if we leave soon? I’m pretty knackered already and the drive back is long enough.”

“No, sure, whenever you want. Just let me go say goodbye and such.”

“You don’t have to rush. I’ll get myself an espresso anyway, but. Soonish?”

“Yeah, alright,” Ed agrees and goes to find his parents to tell them that they’re leaving soon. It’s nearing eight and by the time they’re in London, it’ll be around ten at least. That might not sound all that late, but considering they’re both only recently off work and have more work to do soon, sleep really sounds like the most enjoyable thing to do with free time. Harry comes to join them a few moments later. The tiny espresso cup looks like it’s from a doll’s china set in his long fingers.

“Thanks for having me,” he says in between sips.

“Oh, thanks for being here. We’re glad you could make it,” Paul says. Harry drains the last of his coffee and after the last few pleasantries are exchanged with Ed’s family and the bridal pair, he leads Ed out to the car. They both give little exhausted ‘oof’s as they fall into the seats. Harry hooks his own phone to the speakers this time and Ed doesn’t protest. He doesn’t know what to listen to at the moment anyway. They drive into the falling night with quiet music bubbling in the background and occasional quiet conversation about the day. Harry still has the wilting chain of daisies in his hair and Ed doesn’t feel like pointing it out. Call it retribution for Harry covertly laughing at him all day. Absolutely do not call it adorable.

By the time they pull up in front of Ed’s apartment complex, he’s sure he must’ve dozed off, because there’s no way they got here so quickly.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, around Colchester.”

“You could’ve just woken me.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I wasn’t very interesting company anyway.”

The night air is chilly when Ed steps outside the car and he shivers a little before rolling his shirt sleeves down. He can’t believe he’s actually spent the better part of a day in a shirt without it bothering him – not that he’s gonna tell Harry that. Harry gets out as well to wrestle their suit bags from the tiny “boot” space behind the seats and unzips them both to make sure they’re not going home with the wrong suits.

“D’you want to come up for a bit?” Ed asks. Harry studies him for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nah, you’re alright. I’m pretty beat.”

“Oh. Okay. Um. Today was... fun. Thanks for. Coming with me and all.”

“Yeah, sure. I had fun too. It was nice. Your family’s great.”

“They are. You’d better take me to meet yours at some point. I mean-”

“No, yeah, um. Sure. They’d love to meet you, I’m sure.”

They’re both stalling and they know it, neither of them moving to actually leave while the conversation falls dead around them. It’s Ed who speaks up.

“Listen, d’you maybe want to... do today again, some time?”

“Have you got another wedding coming up?”

“No, I meant, just, um. You and me.”

“Like, hang out? We do that anyw-”

“No, Jesus! I’m asking you out!”

Harry’s stunned into silence at Ed’s sudden outburst and then it seems so is Ed. For a few moments they just stare at each other, before a deep flush, hardly visible in the darkness, creeps up Ed’s cheeks.

“Um. I mean. If you. Wanted. That.”

Harry still just stares at Ed with his mouth hanging slightly open. In any other situation, Ed would’ve taken at least a moment to appreciate how utterly stupid he looks like that, but right at this precise moment, he doesn’t have the brain space to appreciate it. Too much is being taken over by more and more panic with every moment that Harry doesn’t say anything.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, forget it, I must’ve had more champagne than-”

“I do! I mean, not that, I mean. I, um, basically, I do. Want that.”

It’s Ed’s time to be stunned into silence.

“Oh. Really?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Okay. Then. Um.” Ed’s sure that this has never been so hard before. Not even when he was 14 and awkward as fuck.

“I, um. I’ll call you? Soon-ish?” Harry suggests.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

There have been entirely too many “yeah”s, “um”s and “okay”s to keep the conversation going any longer and Ed can see in the red rim of Harry’s eyes that he really needs to get some sleep. But the stupid daisies are still in his hair and he’s wearing the most annoyingly adorable confused but happy expression and Ed’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he reaches out and grabs Harry's wrist, tugging him a bit closer. When Harry tilts his head curiously, Ed leans up and bumps their lips against each other. Harry bristles in surprise but then grabs Ed’s waist with his unoccupied hand and steadies him as he tilts his head a bit more to let their lips truly fall into place against each other.

It’s a strange thing, kissing someone he never before thought to kiss, but it’s not bad. Harry’s lips are a bit cool from the cold of the night, and chapped from a day of talking, drinking, laughing and licking them, but they feel lovely against his own anyway. At first neither of them makes any move to take this to anywhere else but a prolonged peck, but then Harry parts his lips just slightly and burrows his top one in between Ed’s, giving his lower one a little playful nibble. It doesn’t turn passionate, but it turns a little more secure and a little more into a promise. They test each other out and Ed finds he really likes the little bursts of breath Harry huffs through his nose, like he’s trying not to sigh. When their lips feel warmer than before and as wet on the outside as the inside, they both pull back before it can try to go anywhere they don’t want it to yet.

“Definitely soon, then,” Harry says. Ed just laughs and gives him a little push because it’s late and Harry needs to get home and even if it’s dark and no one’s about, they shouldn’t be doing this out in the open.

“Good night,” Ed says. Harry gives him another lingering peck.

“Good night.”

When Ed closes the door of his flat behind himself, he doesn’t try not to think of Harry sitting in his little car and zooming through London to his own flat, or of him realising he’s still wearing the flowers in his hair when he finally does get home. He wakes up to a picture message of the wilted daisies on Harry’s bed side table, the text body only consisting of a winky face.