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It’s a beautiful day. The perfect Saturday in anyone's eyes. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the bright blue sky. The weather is far warmer than it should be for April, but the residents of London welcome the odd weather with open arms. People walk past the bookstore with footballs and frisbees in tow, in short sleeved shirts and sunglasses. It makes Louis even more miserable to be working, on such a wonderful day.
The bookstore is quiet and cool. Only a few customers have come in since Louis opened at 9:30 that morning. An older woman buying a Sunday Missal for her 13 year old nephew, a young girl buying a book about the importance of masturbation in regards of discovering one’s sexuality, and a teenage boy who bought a hallmark birthday card for his mum. A slow day by all accounts, and all Louis wants is to do is be outside playing footie with his mates in the sun, not manning the counter of a bookstore that has entertained three customers in four hours.
Louis is just about to beat his high score on Jetpack Joyride when the bells above the door jingle, signifying someone entering the shop. Louis looks up and sees some hipster guy with his dark hair in a bun and a floral blouse walk into the store, a cup of coffee in one hand and a journal in the other. The man is effortlessly beautiful, and Louis blushes as the guy nods his head at him. Louis nods back, and looks down at his game as the guy moves towards the cookbook section of the shop.
Fifteen minutes later, the guy comes back holding a cookbook: Chocolate and Coffee - a Match Made in Heaven, his own coffee still in hand. The book is one of their best sellers; this hipster has probably taken the last copy.
“This all then, mate?” Louis asks, eying the guy up and down. Now that he’s closer, Louis can see the flecks of blue and gold in his huge green eyes, as innocent and lovely as a baby deer. His hair is a beautiful chestnut brown, curly and messy-looking in the best way possible, the bun on his head resembling a bird’s nest. His blouse is unbuttoned to point of unreasonable, but the black tattoos painted on his sun-kissed skin makes his ridiculous shirt look good. Louis’ eyes move back towards the stranger’s face, admiring the god-like being before him for just a few more seconds, indulging himself in the other man’s beauty. His mouth is beautiful, lips a deep red colour, plump, and his white teeth are perfectly straight, like little marshmallows lined up in two straight rows. Louis is really hopes this guy isn't perfectly straight.
He nods, “yeah, thanks.”
The guy places his coffee, journal and cookbook down on the counter before inspecting the pens next to the register. They’re modelled after Disney characters, only the recent ones of course, like Elsa, Anna, the talking snowman and the reindeer from Frozen and all the characters from Big Hero 6. Louis mentally sighs as he thinks about the pens. Such a shame children these days don’t appreciate the old classic Disney movies, like the ones he grew up with. Anyway.
“What are you drinking?” Louis asks. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets them. But he’s curious, he wants to know this boy inside and out, wants to know what makes him tick, what makes him angry, sad, what makes him toss his beautiful hair back and moan.
The guy looks surprised, and rightly so, Louis thinks. Honestly, Louis shouldn’t have asked, he should have just written his phone number on the bottom of the receipt, and pray that he would have called and that he isn’t as straight as his teeth.
“Um, a decaf soy caramel latte, no foam,” he says, looking at his cup as if reminding himself of his order. “It’s from the cafe down the street, the one which the old lady owns? With the original chocolate caramel cream puffs? I can’t stand any mainstream coffee shops. The coffee is too generic and I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel personal enough.”
Louis knows through his previous adventures down the road that the boy is referring to the Starbucks which dominates the coffee culture in this particular area of the city. Many a time Louis has gone down there hoping for a basic coffee and has had his name spelt wrong by the same girl four times in one week. Although, the mainstream coffee shops have brought many customers to the book store, which Louis can’t complain about. It keeps him busy. Usually.
“How much are these?” the guy holds up a tiny music box with a crank, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes, so long and spidery Louis wonders if he’s wearing mascara. God this guy is so beautiful. The music box he holds up is a metal one which only plays nursery rhymes and Christmas carols. The one the guy is holding is for Ode to Joy. Louis doesn’t know the price off the top of his head, so he reaches over to get a separate one from the box, knocking the guy’s coffee all over the book he was about to purchase, all over the recipe he was reading from. A recipe now ruined.
Louis is horrified.
“Oh my god. Oh my god I'm so sorry.” Louis tries to find some tissues or some newspaper to clean up the mess but he can’t find any. He takes off his green uniform apron, trying to soak up some of the liquid. He wipes the pages but by doing so he smudges all the text on the page, making the recipe illegible.
“I can’t believe this has happened oh my god I cannot apologise enough. The book is on the house I'm so sorry and I'll buy you a new coffee too, I promise. Oh my god.”
The guy looks as mortified as Louis feels. He's standing a few metres away from the counter, his mouth open in a bewildered ‘O’. The pages of the book are stained brown and soaking and there is no way to recover it. The guy opens and closes his mouth a few times while Louis decides the best way to tackle the situation. This has never happened to him before, and as far as he knows, this has never happened to anyone else.
(Louis is part of a bookstore employee’s Facebook page, where people all over the UK tell their stories about working in a bookstore and the customers they come across. Louis has never read a story like this one. On the plus side, though, at least he will get more than five likes on his next post on the page.)
“Let me just check if we have any more copies of this book,” Louis says quietly, more to himself than the customer.
With a quick type on the computer Louis discovers that yes, this was the last copy, and they won’t be getting a new shipment in for another few weeks.
“Right, well, seems like you’ve got the last copy right here and we won’t get another shipment in for a few more weeks.” Louis says, the customer still looking shocked but not angry, thank god. “Here, write your number down on this receipt and I’ll let you know when we get some more copies in.”
It’s a good way to get this guy’s phone number, Louis realises, but because he messed up and did something embarrassing to get it, the guy probably won't see him as anything other than a klutz. “And I’ll make sure that I get you another coffee when you come in the next time. And I’ll also buy you one of the music boxes. And a Disney pen. Basically anything that will make up for my mistake.”
He stares hopefully at the guy as he writes his name and number, Louis praying that he will see this guy again. Other than when he comes back for the book.
Louis takes back the receipt and admires his handwriting for a second before looking up at the guys face, surprised to see him trying to stop a smile from appearing on his beautiful face. At least one of them can laugh about the situation, Louis thinks. Louis looks down again, totally not memorising the numbers on the page. Or the name attached to them. Henry.
“Thanks, Henry.” Louis looks up at him and smiles, hoping that the embarrassed blush on his cheeks has gone. “I’ll make sure to call you when the new shipment comes in, and I’ll get you a coffee to go with it. Would you like a pen or the music box? On the house, like promised.”
Henry smiles at him kindly, eyes sparkling with something special, “I think I’ll just wait for the book, thanks mate.”
As he walks away, Louis admires his tiny butt in his skin tight jeans. He doesn't really look like a Henry but who is Louis to judge? He looks away before he gets too carried away in the planes of Henry’s body, the way his hips swing slightly, how that one curl is slipping out of his bun, how he looks amazing even from behind.
“Oh, and for the record,” Henry stops, half way out the door, turning so Louis can see his beautiful face again. “It’s Harry.”
Harry struts away, letting the door swing shut behind him, bells above the door ringing.
Louis looks down at the piece of paper, almost crying with embarrassment when he realises. Harry. His name is Harry.
Louis knew he should have cleaned his glasses this morning.
*
Two and a half weeks later, on a Sunday the bookstore gets a new shipment of the cookbooks in. Louis immediately opens the box to restock them, making sure he keeps one especially for Harry, thanking god that it is him and not Zayn who is working today.
He calls Harry as soon as he has a spare moment, wanting to see him as soon as possible to give him the cookbook.
“Hullo?”
Louis almost collapses, remembering how smooth and deep his voice is. It sounds like melted chocolate on ice cream, even through the phone. It takes Louis a few moments to collect himself before replying.
“Yeah, hi,” Louis starts. “It’s me. Louis. From the bookstore. The one who knocked your coffee on the cookbook.”
Louis cringes as he rambles, seemingly unable to stop talking, blabbering on like a child. God, he’s not leaving a good impression is he?
Harry’s laugh tinkles through the phone, the noise sounding like strawberries and cream on a beautiful summer day and Louis could not be more in love with a sound like he is with Harrys laugh.
“Hi, Louis from the bookstore,” Harry says, and Louis can hear his smile through the phone. “What can I do you for?”
Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling as he looks down at the new books and blushes.
“There’s a new shipment of the cookbooks,” Louis says, fiddling with the single book in front of him, flicking through the colourful pages, fingers gliding over the glossy images of chocolate and coffee and everything good coming from that combination.
“I wanted to let you know first and foremost, so there’s no way you wouldn't be able to get a copy of the book. We’re open until 5 this evening, so you can drop by any time before then. Or even tomorrow. Or anytime this week. Or even next week. Anytime this month is fine, really. That is, if you still want the book.”
Another one of Harry’s beautiful laughs flows through the phone, and Louis finds himself smiling as he hears it.
“I sure do want that book still.” he says. “Could I pop in in about 20 minutes or so? I'm on the way home from work so I could stop by.”
“Oh, of course, of course,” Louis replies, trying to sound casual about seeing Harry again. “I’ll make sure the book and a coffee is here ready for you.”
“Perfect,” Harry responds. “See you soon, then, Louis from the bookstore.”
Louis is just about to ask for his coffee order again, to make sure he gets it right, but the beeping in his ear stops the words. And he can’t call back now that he’s already hung up. Louis will have to try and remember.
Ten minutes later, Louis asks Kate, one of the other employees, a dark skinned girl with big brown eyes and curly purple hair to man the desk for a few minutes while Louis buys the coffee for Harry.
He walks out the door in a confident stride, head high, feet subconsciously taking him to the quaint cafe he has started going to more regularly since meeting Harry. Louis wonders if he should order something for Harry to eat too, as an extension of his apology, when he notices that the cafe is all dark inside.
Its only just gone 3pm, Louis thinks. It shouldn’t be shut yet. This is prime coffee time.
A handwritten note taped to the door catches Louis’ eye.
‘Sorry! Shut on Sundays!
Come and see us at 7am Monday Morning :)’
And that’s just Louis’ luck. He turns and walks in the direction he came, headed towards the standard Starbucks down the road. He promised Harry a coffee and that’s what he’ll get, even if it’s the shittiest coffee he’s ever had.
*
Harry arrives at the bookstore that afternoon. The smell of old pages and countless stories fill the air, and the dim store welcomes him as he walks in the door. He goes over to the register and sees Louis again, serving someone else while talking to another employee. The customer must have told a joke, as Louis laughs with his head thrown back, his small hand resting on his stomach as the girl beside him stifles a giggle. Harry finds himself smiling as he sees the joy on Louis’ face. It’s far from the flustered person Harry met two weeks ago, and Harry is more enamoured with Louis than he was when they first met.
“Harry!” Louis exclaims, getting the other boy’s attention. Harry smiles as he plays with his hair, itching to redo it in another bun as he feel parts of it pulling and other parts falling out, but he tells himself to wait until after he’s finished talking to Louis.
“How are you, mate? Got the book right here for you.” Louis smiles easily, and Harry is happy to see him so casual and calm. “I also have a pen and a music box. I know you said that you didn’t want them, but I thought that you would like them anyway. It’s the least I could do, honestly, after I spilt your coffee all over your book.”
Harry smiles gratefully, accepting the bag from Louis, making sure their fingers touch. Harry feels a spark running up his arm, making eye contact with Louis as their skin brushes for the first time. Louis looks down at the ground, quickly releasing the bag, blushing. Harry finds it cute.
“Oh!” Louis exclaims, “Almost forgot.”
Louis turns around and reaches behind him, allowing part of his shirt to ride up; just enough so Harry can see a sliver of golden skin and the start of an ass tattoo. Harry wants to touch that golden skin, feel its warmth underneath his tongue, cover it in bruises and kisses.
“Your coffee.”
Louis holds out a generic Starbucks take away cup, looking bashful while Harry stares at it.
“The other cafe was closed today,” Louis explains, bringing the coffee closer to his body, sensing that Harry was hesitant to accept the cup. “I know you said that you don’t like this type coffee, but it was the best thing I could find around here. And I can’t make coffee for my life, so I thought that this would be better than nothing. Better than it being all over your cookbook, anyway.”
Harry stares at the coffee, debating on whether or not to take it. He doesn’t drink coffee often, only from that one little cafe, and when he does drink it, it has to be good. And Harry knows Starbucks isn’t good. But one look at Louis’ beautiful bashful face and Harry takes the cup, again brushing his fingers against Louis’ on purpose.
“I also couldn’t remember your order.” Louis says. “I think you said something about decaf, or soy milk, but I couldn’t remember anything else. I’m sorry about that too.”
Harry grins at Louis, taking a swig of coffee just to see the other boy smile. He tries not to grimace too much as the lukewarm coffee slides down his throat, the taste far, far worse than expected. Was it worth it to see Louis smile?
Probably, Harry thinks, as he looks down on the smaller boy, his eyes crinkling at the sides, his tongue sliding between his teeth as he smiles.
“Ah, right,” Harry starts, trying to scratch the bitter taste of the cheap coffee out of his mouth. “Thank you, for all this, Louis. The book, the pen, the music box, but I must be off then, so -”
“Do you want to go on a date with me?”
Harry is stunned, his face contorting into confusion before smiling slightly at the thought of a date with the boy in front of him.
Louis looks even more bashful, his face bright pink, dainty fingers covering his mouth like he regrets the words coming out in the first place.
“Yeah,” Harry replies. “Yeah, that would be lovely.”
Louis drops his hands from his face, smiling nervously, quickly giving Harry his number. Harry notices his hands are shaking and his face and now his neck have gone a gorgeous shade of red, a colour Harry would like to see covering his whole body.
Harry grins at the other boy as he’s walking out the door, already having agreed to message each other about plans for an upcoming date. With a little wave to Louis, Harry is out the door with a skip in his step, a cookbook in bag, and a disgusting coffee in hand. (Which he throws out as soon as he sees a bin- what Louis doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)
*
They text on and off for about a week, emojis in every second message while they get to know each other more and try to set a date for their date.
Harry with the curly bun: what about tuesday for a date? xx
bookstore Louis: canttt :( store closes at 9:30 at night hve to be there to close it. It’s a book club night so there are old ladies and divorced wives discussing classic novels which are bORING AF. Thursday ?
Harry with the curly bun: school runs late that day so I won’t be able to make it . Why dont I meet you for one of your lunch breaks this week? I can treat you to a lovely non-generic coffee? :)
bookstore Louis: haha sure! my next shift is on Friday at 1 , if youre free !! X
Harry with the curly bun: brilliant !! see you at 12 then outside the cafe. Can’t wait xxx
*
Louis is nervous, waiting for Harry outside the small family owned cafe.
He looks down at his work uniform, a beige polo shirt and black pants (the apron he keeps at the bookstore), thinking that maybe he should have agreed to a dinner date. Then he could show Harry his incredible fashion sense.
It’s now ten minutes past twelve and Louis sighs, fiddling with his fingers, feeling the gaze of other patrons on his back. Maybe Harry isn’t coming. The first time they met Louis spilled coffee all over his book, and made a complete fool of himself. Maybe this is Harry’s way of getting him back. Harry didn’t seem like that kind of person, though. But, Louis of all people knows not to judge a book by its cover.
Just as Louis is turning away, he sees Harry coming out of the coffee shop, his toned chest showing through his sheer shirt, dark tattoos stark and mouth-watering against his pale skin. His hair is up in a bun again, and Louis wants to feel the silky strands through his fingers, while he feels Harry’s pillowy lips on his own.
“Louis!” Harry waves while smirking. “Where are you off to? Can’t be dining and ditching me already, we haven't even sat down yet!”
Louis blushes, (that’s all he ever seems to do when he’s with Harry) before mumbling “thought you weren’t coming.”
Harry leans down and places a hand on the small of Louis’ back, sparks running up Louis’ spine as Harry guides them into the cafe, towards the back of the room, where it seems Harry has already taken temporary ownership of the table. The smell of coffee is divine, and although Louis doesn’t usually drink it, just being in this room with Harry makes him want to consume every single bean.
“Of course I was coming! Did you really see me as someone who would ditch on a first date?” Harry pouts, his doe eyes sparkling with mischief as he teases Louis as they sit down, Louis in the booth, Harry in the chair across from him.
“Maybe,” Louis replies, shyly looking down at his hands. Damn, why is he so bashful around this guy? This type of nervousness has never happened to Louis before on a date, and it’s not something which he’s really comfortable with.
“Aw, Lou,” Harry sighs. Louis loves the way his name sounds coming out of his lips. “I’m sorry for making you doubt yourself and this date. But I'm very happy to be here and learn all about you while staring into your beautiful eyes.”
Louis blushes again, damn Louis stop it but appreciates the comment all the same.
“So, how do you take your coffee?” Harry asks after a small lull in the conversation.
“Oh, er,” Louis leans forward, in an attempt to see the menu above the cashier, before turning to reply to Harry. “I don’t usually drink coffee, to be honest, but I’ll have something that completely transforms it so I can’t taste any bitterness at all.”
He smiles cheekily at the other boy, looking at him through his eyelashes, a playful glint in his eyes.
“But that ruins the whole purpose!” Harry says with a mock-annoyed tone, while still smiling.
“Okay then, you wait here and I’ll get you the best cup of coffee that doesn’t even taste like coffee.” Harry says.
Louis giggles as Harry struts away with a wink, waving animatedly at the blonde barista behind the bar, starting a conversation with him after he’s ordered the drinks.
A few minutes later, Harry comes back with two full mugs of coffee, decorated with extravagant latte art, before darting off again to fetch a plate of cream puffs.
Louis smiles as Harry walks back to the table. “Ah, the infamous Original Chocolate Caramel Cream Puffs. I have been meaning to try these, but I always forget to come down here.”
“Well good thing you haven’t tried them, then,” Harry responds. “Because then I wouldn’t be able to buy them for you and see your face when you eat one for the first time. Trust me, the first bite will probably feel like an orgasm.”
Louis sputters out the coffee he was slowly sipping, liquid spraying out in every direction, onto Harry and the cream puffs.
And yet again, Louis has managed to make a complete fool of himself. God, this is why Louis doesn’t date.
But one look at Harry’s laughing face, nose scrunched up, mouth wide open, Louis realises that Harry isn’t laughing at him, but with him, and his doubts disappear.
They end up splitting five cream puffs, and Louis knows that they are enough for lunch and he’ll be hungry later but the warmth from his coffee (which doesn’t taste like coffee at all, and Louis thinks that Harry ordered him a hot chocolate instead of a coffee) and the warmth from Harry’s smile makes his future hunger worth it.
It gets to 12:55, and the cream puffs are long gone, their coffee in their stomachs and Louis just doesn’t want this date to end. Harry is far funnier than Louis initially thought, lame jokes and long stories told with crazy hand gestures allowing Louis to immerse himself into Harry’s deep, slow drawl.
It’s quiet for a few moments after one of Harry’s stories and Louis’ laughs die down because
he just doesn’t want to leave.
“My shift starts in a few minutes,” he says softly, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. “I had a wonderful time, I really did, and I don’t want to leave, and I want to see you again for sure, but - ”
“Tomorrow night?” Harry smirks. “I already talked to Elaine, your boss, and asked if you could have the night off. I would love to see you again. And maybe when you’re not wearing your incredibly flattering work polo, as much as I love the way you look in it.”
Louis rolls his eyes and thinks. He was meant to Face-Time his mum tomorrow night and talk to the kids, because he hasn’t been up to Donny in ages, and they’re all growing up so fast without him, but if he tells his mum the reason for the rain-check he’s sure she would understand.
“A little creepy to be scheduling dates with me via my boss,” Louis starts, and Harry’s face falls for a second. “But sure, tomorrow night sounds great.”
And Harry’s cheeky, toothy smile is back.
They stand up from the table, again Harry leading Louis to the door with a hand resting on his lower back, yelling a “see ya!” to the blonde boy behind the counter as the boy smiles at him and makes an obscene gesture with his mouth.
“I’d better get to work then,” Louis says, gesturing to the bookstore standing across the road. “I had a really lovely time, Harry and I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
“Ditto,” Harry replies, leaning down to kiss Louis on the cheek, his lips lingering on Louis’ skin for a few moments, before moving away with a smile. “See you tomorrow then.”
And with a wave, he’s gone, walking down the street with the hair in his bun falling out slightly, a little swing to his hips and a date for tomorrow night.
*
The place they go to is very fancy, and Louis looks down at his sweater and jeans in doubt, wondering if he will even be allowed into this restaurant because he’s not wearing leather shoes.
Harry is waiting outside the door when Louis arrives, greeting him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before leading him into the warm restaurant.
They sit down, and are given lemon water and menus. Harry, again, announces his recommendations, Louis, again, taking Harry’s word for it, orders something in French which he doesn’t understand, but Harry assures him it’ll be good.
They chatter and laugh throughout the date, and Louis learns that despite teaching, Harry’s true passion is baking, which he’s done with his sister since he was 12 years old. Louis learns that they’re desperate to own a cafe together one day, and that’s why he loves the other cafe so much. It reminds him of his own dreams and sister. But teaching is a good way to earn money with decent holiday breaks, so it was the best option.
They say no to dessert, because Harry made something for Louis back in his own apartment, and Harry reaches for the check to pay again when it arrives at the table.
“Please let me pay!” Louis says, trying to snatch the bill out of Harry’s big hands. “You paid last time, and you made me dessert! I have to pay this time.”
Harry shakes his head, giving Louis a peck on the cheek over the table, the perfect distraction to reach for the check in Louis’ hands. Louis blushes. Again.
“Ha, gotcha!” Harry exclaims, holding the check up over his head, giggling like mad while other customers give them dirty looks.
Louis just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, showing all the fondness in the world to the boy in front of him.
“Fine,” he groans. “If you insist.”
“I most certainly do.” Harry smirks, placing the money on the table before taking Louis’ hand and leading him out of the chair.
They walk out of the restaurant; hand in hand the whole brisk 10 minute walk to Harry’s flat.
Harry’s complex is far nicer than Louis’, and for a moment, he feels inadequate, like he isn’t enough for Harry. But the taller boy must have known something was up, so Harry securely wrapped his arms around Louis from behind, giving him a kiss on the corner of Louis’ mouth, a giggle and eye roll coming from Louis.
They hop in the elevator, which looks shiny and fancy but is actually really slow, and the minute it takes to get up to the ninth floor is filled with sly looks to each other, fidgeting and giggling. They don’t know it yet, but they’re already so in love.
Harry opens the door of the apartment, leading Louis in with his hands around his waist.
“Wait here,” Harry says, situating Louis in the middle of the small lounge room, darting off into the kitchen, out of sight. Louis can hear cupboards opening, cans shifting, and Louis takes the time to have a deeper look into Harry’s apartment.
There are pictures scattering the wall, of women and men and Harry with other people. There’s a picture of old people, young people, and one person Louis registers as a younger Harry.
He’s curled up to another girl, his sister, Louis supposes, as they look quite similar. Harry’s hair is shorter than it is now and curlier, his cheeks much rosier, lips pinker. He looks young and innocent and ready to take on the world.
Not that the Harry now isn’t up to that job, but Harry now is a bit wiser, a bit older, a bit more worn around the edges.
“Louis,” Harry calls from the doorway into the kitchen. “Come in here, be my guest.”
He smirks before turning away, trusting Louis to follow. And Louis does.
The kitchen smells of fresh fruit and dark chocolate, and Louis knows that even if this date doesn’t end the way he would like, Harry is definitely a keeper.
On the kitchen counter are two sundae glasses filled with three different colours of mousse. They’re topped with fresh berries, strawberries and raspberries stark and bright against the duller colour of the chocolate.
“It’s a new recipe,” Harry says, handing Louis a spoon, pushing the dessert to his side of the table.
“I thought I should try it out. It's actually on the page which you spilt all the coffee, so i thought it would have some type of universal significance.” He chuckles.
Louis is in awe, that someone can actually make this restaurant quality dessert from scratch, and make it look incredible. Louis struggles to get his fried egg out of the pan some mornings, and loves the idea that if he were to end up with Harry, that they wouldn’t be eating frozen meals and takeout on a weekly basis.
“Ok then, Gordan Ramsey.” Louis says, taking a spoonful of mousse and wrapping his lips around the spoon.
He moans, proper moans, throws his head back, and the look that he gets from Harry shows that he wants to hear that sound again. The mousse is smooth and silky, rich and decadent but the tartness of the berries are cutting through some of the excessive sweetness. It’s honestly the best dessert Louis has ever had, including his grandma’s vanilla cake with pink icing (although he would never admit that to her.)
“What is this?” Louis says, dipping his spoon in for another mouthful. “It’s incredible. Oh, god, it’s like an orgasm in my mouth. This is better than any sex I’ve ever had.”
Harry smirks, “hopefully that will change soon.”
Louis swallows his mouthful, his face going as red as the strawberries atop the mousse, and his face heating up despite the cool glass in his hand.
“It’s a coffee and double chocolate mousse cake.” Harry says, picking up his own glass, taking a spoonful himself.
Harry’s reaction is pretty similar to Louis’, despite having made it himself, moaning and groaning around the food in his mouth.
They quickly finish their desserts, giggling and feeding each other spoonfuls of the decadent mousse.
“I could wipe my fingers all along this glass, just to get all of the mousse, I don’t want any of it to go to waste.” Louis says, scraping his spoon along the leftover dessert.
Harry smirks, putting a dollop of mousse on his fingers, smearing it over Louis’ face, whole he’s not looking before boldly licking it off.
Louis looks mock-offended, “How dare you!” he says, taking the rest of his mouse in his hands putting it all over Harry’s face.
Harry’s face looks very similar to how Louis’s did, and the smaller boy is smirking at him, before turning away and running out of the kitchen. Harry’s long arms sneak around Louis’ waist before he can get too far, pulling him closer.
Their faces end up very close, so close that Louis can see every crease in Harry’s relaxed face. Both of their eyes are flicking down to the other’s lips, leaning in slowly before Louis speaks.
“The lead up to the kiss is always better than the kiss itself.” he whispers. “Maybe we should leave it here.”
“I don’t believe you.” Harry says, before meeting Louis lips in a sweet kiss, one that tastes of chocolate and coffee and fruit, it’s not too forceful, and the kiss allows Louis the opportunity to pull away if he wants.
But he doesn’t. The kiss gets desperate, fingers roaming, clothes falling to the floor, Harry leading Louis to his bedroom.
They flop on the bed, more clothes being removed before they’re both completely naked and rutting against each other.
Harry opens Louis up with gentle fingers after minutes of searching each other’s bodies. Louis moans and groans and encourages with quivers of his legs, abs clenching in pleasure.
When Harry enters him, it’s a bit painful, as it always is, but Harry distracts him with soft touches, gentle kisses, kind fingers wandering.
They find a rhythm, and it ends up being so so great for the both of them.
They come together and afterwards Louis turns to Harry, slightly out of breath and says, “that was far better than the dessert.”
They laugh together until they can’t anymore, and when they can’t laugh they talk. They talk about everything they missed at dinner and the date the day before, falling asleep mid conversation, tangled together, unknowing where one body ends and the other begins.
*
Four months and countless dates later, they’re walking home from the pub after meeting up with their mates, Niall, Harry’s friend from the coffee shop, Zayn, Louis’ friend from work, and Zayn’s boyfriend, Liam. They’re happy, drunk and clinging to each other as they walk in the cold wind.
“Let’s go home, Haz,” Louis mumbles, burying his face into the collar of Harry’s trench coat. Harry moves his arm around Louis’ shoulders. He presses a kiss to Louis’ temple before replying.
“Whose home? Yours is that way,” he points to the opposite direction that they’re going. “Mine is a bit closer, and we’re already headed there, so my home is probably a better option.”
“No,” Louis whines, “not your home. Our home. We could make your home feel like our home.”
Harry smiles, “yeah? You want to move in?”
He pictures the life they could have together, waking up beside each other every morning, Harry getting Louis out of bed when he has to work, luring him into the kitchen with the promise of French toast and kisses, lazy Sunday mornings where they can make love and kiss each other slowly, learning the planes of each other’s bodies, again and again.
“I’m sure we could arrange that, love.” Harry replies as they reach the front of their complex. Harry pushes in the code to get in, 1834, before taking a sleepy Louis in his arms and walking up the many flights of stairs to get to their apartment. Harry sets Louis down with a stable hand to his waist, reaching into his back pocket for his keys and finding nothing.
Louis fonds at Harry, reaching into his own pocket, retrieving his set of keys and unlocking the door.
“Looks like we’re already halfway there.” He smiles, leaning up on his tip toes, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips.
“I love you, Lou,” Harry says for the first time, staring into Louis’ beautiful blue eyes, as blue as the ocean in an exotic location. He gets lost in them, wanting to figure out Louis past and their own future together, mesmerised by the pure beauty that is Louis.
“I love you, too, Harry,” Louis replies, leaning up to meet his lips in a loving, desperate kiss.
*
It’s a few months after Louis officially moves in that he comes home one day with a cat.
It’s a beautiful little cat, with white fur and dark markings on his ears, nose and along his tail. His eyes are as blue as Louis’ and as much as Harry doesn’t want, nor need a cat right now, the little fur baby’s eyes just make him fall in love.
“Louis!” Harry says, throwing his hands up in the air, turning around in a circle because he just didn’t know what else to do. “Why did you come home with a cat? The landlord won’t let us have any pets, let alone the fact we can’t afford one. And it’s long haired and fluffy and white. That means we won’t ever be able to wear any black clothes again!”
Harry realises that Louis isn’t listening to him, but rather trying to tame the fluffy beast in his arms, and seemingly failing, the tiny animal flailing against the hold Louis has on him.
“Harry, I couldn’t not take him!” Louis says holding the cat up under his arms while he gives a tiny mewl. “A lady came in last week asking if she could advertise some kittens in the store and I said no, I had to, it’s against company policy. Anyway, I gave her my phone number and told her that if she couldn’t find an owner in a week she could call me and we could have him for free. And she did! Said he was the runt of the litter, and he has a kink in his tail so no one wants him.”
Harry sighs, there’s nothing he can do about it now, just accept the fact that they now have a cat, kinky tail and all. Louis’ already in love, and Harry would never forgive himself if he took away the loving look in Louis’ eyes.
“So what should we call him?” Harry asks, arms reaching out to accept the cat from Louis. “And how old is he? What food do we feed him? We need to find a good vet and lots of kitty litter. Cat poo smells so bad, too, we’ll have to buy some scented candles.”
Louis rolls his eyes at the later comments, digging into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, clearing his throat dramatically before reading.
“Name: Bruno. Age: seventeen weeks.”
Harry gasps, “he’s just a tiny baby! So tiny, so young, so helpless and innocent.”
Louis rolls his eyes as he continues reading, Harry talking to the cat in a baby voice while rubbing his tiny tummy. Harry can’t believe that he’s already so attached.
“There’s a list of food and kitty litter we need to buy for him, plus some shots he needs to get at various stages of his life, but I think that he is a lovely little addition to our family, don’t you dear Harold?”
Harry looks down at the tiny cat in his arms, asleep and purring already, Bruno feeling at home with the warmth coming from Harry’s chest.
“Yeah, he’s perfect.”
They make a little bed for him made out of blankets and pillow cases in the corner of their room, laying him there to sleep before they can get another bed for him. They look down on their new family member like two proud parents. They have only had him for thirty five minutes but they know that Bruno will be loved like a new-born baby.
*
They wake up in the middle of the night to little Bruno mewling and scratching at the bedroom door, whining loud and squeaky.
“Louis, get the cat.” Harry mumbles, not opening his eyes.
“You get him. He likes you more.” Louis retorts, taking off his sock and throwing one at the door.
Harry groans. “You’re the one who brought him home.”
There is silence for a few moments, before Harry realises that Louis has fallen back asleep.
With a deep sigh, Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed, before slowly padding over to the bedroom door, scooping up Bruno as he bends down. Harry feels wet fur, and he doesn’t like what that could mean.
“Aw, Bruno,” Harry coos. “You didn’t have anywhere to go to the toilet. You poor little baby, I’ll get you cleaned up.”
Harry goes into the bathroom and puts Bruno in the empty sink before getting the piece of paper Louis came home with, trying to find any information about cleaning or weeing or cat hygiene or anything else of that nature.
Ragdoll cats are very self-sufficient, despite having long fur; they are able to keep themselves clean like any other cat through their own grooming. They clean themselves four to five times daily, and this should be enough for your cat to stay spotless. To ensure there are no hairballs, feed your cat with anti-fur biscuits, and brush them with a barber comb once a week.
Harry rolls his eyes, poor Bruno won’t be able to clean all the piss off himself. This cat is a lot more work than Harry thought.
However, if you feel some extra cleaning is necessary; ragdolls can be bathed in warm water with soapless shower gel/shampoo or just a plain washcloth. Ragdolls are unusual cats, and do not mind a water bath every now and then. Do not get water in your baby’s ears, around its eyes or mouth. Ensure to towel your baby dry as gently as possible, although if they are still a bit damp, that’s okay, they will dry off on their own. You can also use a hairdryer to dry your cat, just make sure the air is not too hot, and constantly rotate your cat so they dry evenly.
Harry looks at Bruno, tiny and miserable in the little bathroom sink, his white fur stained yellow with his own urine, and Harry just feels pity for the little kitty.
“Poor baby Bruno, huh.” Harry says to the cat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Harry picks Bruno up and holds him in his hands, the kitten so small he fits inside only one of Harry’s palms. He heats up the water in the sink, and it takes a good ten minutes because the pipes in their apartment are thin and old, but Harry takes the time to bond with Bruno.
As soon as the water is warm and somewhat foamy with the soap-less shampoo they own, Harry slowly submerges Bruno into the water.
Two seconds later, Harry is cursing every being who brought the cat into his life and himself for not thinking about cutting the damn animal’s fingernails before deciding to put him in water.
Red scratches appear up his arms as Bruno tries to escape the wet hell he believes he is entering. Bruno cries and shrieks and obviously does not believe that Harry is trying to help him. He claws up Harry’s arm, sopping wet, splashing water everywhere and by the time it takes for Bruno to settle down, he’s sitting on Harry’s shoulder while Louis watches from the doorway, awake from all the noise.
“In what right mind did you think it was okay to bathe a cat?” Louis smirks from the doorway, both Harry and Bruno jumping in surprise, their heads whipping around to stare at Louis.
“God, Lou,” Harry sighs, hand coming up to rest on his racing heart, while Bruno tries to find a more comfortable position as far away from the sink as possible.
“I heard a commotion in here and thought it best that I investigate. So why are you torturing our poor little baby, Harry?” Louis asks smugly, reaching over Harry’s shoulder to scoop up Bruno.
Harry opens his mouth a few times, not really knowing how to explain the situation.
“He woke up covered in his own piss.” Harry says, while Louis gives Bruno a tentative sniff.
“The piece of paper says that this breed of cats can be bathed if they need to be. And I thought that he would want to be clean on his first night as a Styles-Tomlinson, instead of crying about being covered in wee.”
Louis nods, reaching for the towel hanging over the shower to try and dry Bruno off a bit before he gets sick.
“But then, I realised that Bruno is not a special type of cat, and doesn’t like to be submerged in water, and he has really sharp nails for someone who is barely four months old.”
Harry glares at Bruno while Louis just giggles, towelling the kitten dry as he purrs in content.
“That’s unfair that he loves you now, I’m the one with scratches all up my arm!”
“Aw baby, are you okay?”
Louis is being condescending and Harry just glares while Louis laughs again.
“Come on then, Doctor Dolittle, back to bed. You too Bruno my baby.”
“Remember when I was your baby?” pouts Harry, mock upset, turning the bathroom light off behind them.
“Oh, Harry love,” Louis says, turning around to face Harry. “You’ll always be my only baby. Bruno is my second baby. And he’s a cat so he doesn’t count.”
Harry’s hands sling around Louis’ waist, Bruno squished between them. “Yeah?” Harry says. “Prove it.”
Their lips are millimetres apart, and Louis has said since the first date that the lead up to the kiss is just as good as the kiss itself. Harry still doesn’t believe him.
Their lips press against each other, sparks flying like the first time they touched. Harry’s hands move from Louis’s waist to his arse, and Louis’ hands move to Harry’s neck.
A now-familiar meow and scratch to Harry’s legs break their kiss, both of them looking down at their feet to see a damp, cranky Bruno, his pink mouth open in an angry meow.
“He’s going to take some getting used to.” Louis sighs.
Harry agrees.
*
About six weeks later, on a Saturday similar to the day they met, Louis takes the day off so they can explore the city without any worries or any curfew. Looking around the city is something that they like to occasionally indulge themselves in. Neither of them have lived in London for very long, and they love to explore and discover the nooks and crannies, the hole-in-the-wall cafes, restaurants and thrift shops that no one knows about.
They start the day at their favourite cafe, Louis getting a hot chocolate and Harry getting whatever dairy free, caffeine free coffee he gets, before they set out for a wonderful day out, asking Niall behind the counter for some chocolate caramel cream puffs to go.
Harry’s hair is out, drying from the shower they shared this morning, so before they leave the café, Louis pulls Harry’s soft, curly locks back into a bun, adding a few braids here and there to impress Harry’s thousands of Instagram followers. Louis takes a picture of his creation in the natural light, streaks of gold and red from the sun coming through in the photograph. Harry thanks him with a slow kiss to his lips, posting it quickly to his account with the caption Boyfriend: also known as: Braid Master.
They giggle as they walk down the street, holding hands and talking about each other, telling stories the other hasn’t heard yet. They’re the perfect couple. Louis loud and energetic, Harry calm and mellow. Together, they balance each other out, like salted caramel.
They walk along, taking twists and turns, walking into whatever shop tickles their fancy, buying a few clothes and shoes here and there before stopping at a local Indian restaurant for lunch.
They order a classic Westernised-Indian dish, chicken tikka masala and butter chicken, the lady taking their orders giggling at them because ‘the white boys can't handle the heat’.
“This is the best curry I’ve ever had in my whole life.” Louis groans, shovelling another mouthful of naan and curry into his mouth.
Harry agrees. “We need to remember where this place is. And see if they deliver. We could start up a tikka masala Monday!”
Louis rolls his eyes fondly at Harry, “Sure babe,” he smiles, reaching over the table to wipe some sauce of Harry’s chin. “If that’s what you really want we’ll make it happen.”
They smile at each other from across the table, heart eyes going crazy, everyone else in the restaurant can see it.
“The bill, boys.” Their waitress comes over, interrupting their little moment, of which they have had many in the past months they've been dating.
They pay, leaving a generous tip while taking their business card (Harry almost dances with joy when he sees they deliver, and it’s buy two get one free for curries on Monday nights), walking out of the shop to continue their adventure.
They’re pretty far out from where they live, and the streets are getting more residential, a bit dirtier, less shiny, gardens overgrown and paint peeling off the walls of the houses they pass.
“Think it’s time to go home, Haz?” Louis asks. “It’s getting pretty late, and we haven’t been around for Bruno all day.”
Harry nods, letting Louis lead him away when he heard a small noise which stopped him in his tracks. It was a small mewl, and it sounded similar to the way Bruno sounded when he first arrived at their apartment.
“Lou, did you hear that?” Harry says, walking around in a circle to see if he can hear the noise again, looking like a bit of a twit.
“Hear what? C’mon, Harry, I’m really tired and it’s going to get dark soon and -”
“There it was again!” Harry screeches his eyes wide a mad man on a mission.
Louis sighs, there’s no way to convince Harry out of this now. All Louis can do is help Harry find whatever is making the noise, because he know Harry’ll be up all night thinking about it, disrupting Louis’ sleep.
They walk around the area, Harry making little clicks with his tongue and snapping his fingers, hoping to find whatever was making the noise.
Louis is looking towards the direction they came from, longing to leave, and as he turns around he sees Harry opening the bin outside someone else’s house.
“Harry! What the hell are you doing?” Louis yells, but he is cut short when he sees Harry emerge from the bin with a tiny kitten in his arms, small and frightened, shaking with fear.
Louis coos at the poor thing, reaching out to hold it when Harry gets close enough.
“Harry, we can’t just take someone’s cat from their house.” Louis says, knowing that he’s breaking Harry’s heart. Harry is like a modern day Mother Theresa for animals, always wanting to help whenever he can, no matter what situation the animal is in.
“Louis,” Harry says, taking back the kitten possessively. “This cat was sitting atop a pile of rubbish, shaking with fear, and there’s not even a car in the driveway! I think that this cat was dumped. And we need to save it.”
The colours and markings of the kitten are not visible in the fading light, its fur matted and dirty from being in the bin for at least a few days.
Louis sighs, his love for Harry going far beyond his thoughts for the residents of the house. And no one was around to see them potentially kidnap the kitten, so he thinks they’ll be okay.
The walk home is quiet, as they don’t want to frighten the kitten more than they have with any loud noises. The kitten is placed inside one of the pockets of Louis’ backpack, leaving a bit of the zipper open so it can get some fresh air.
Before arriving at the apartment, they formulate a plan of attack.
“You need to put Bruno in another room,” Harry says. “Peaches will get scared if she sees another cat, we don’t know what she’s been through.”
Louis comes to a stop outside the lift. “Hang on a tick,” he starts. “We’re not keeping this cat. We’ll foster it for sure, until we can find it another home, but we can’t keep it. We don’t know what diseases it has which might spread to Bruno. And naming it is the worst thing you can do! That means you’re already attached.”
The lift doors open, Peaches giving a tiny meow. They walk into the lift, Harry staring at Louis in disbelief.
“I already am attached,” Harry pouts. “And we have to keep her! She and Bruno could be best friends, and they could love each other. Like adopted siblings!”
“Harry.”
“Louis.”
“How about we put pictures of her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and in three weeks, if someone doesn’t approach us and ask if they can have her, we keep her.”
Louis sticks his hand out, waiting for Harry to shake it, but the lift doors open and Harry walks away from Louis and quickly towards the door. He opens the door, greeting Bruno before lifting him up and placing him in the kitchen.
“Harry, this isn’t a problem you can run away from!” Louis says, following Harry inside the flat.
“Give me the cat.” Harry says, ignoring Louis’ comment.
Louis holds his hand out. “Not until you shake.”
They stare at each other for a few moments, Louis not backing down.
“Fine,” Harry groans, shoving his hand into Louis’, shaking it, before bringing in Louis for a kiss.
They kiss softly for a few moments, getting more urgent as time goes on. Louis still wearing his backpack. As he pulls it off his body Harry quickly breaks away, yelling a loud ‘wait!’ before it hits the floor. Only then does Louis realise that the cat is still in the bag.
Louis places the bag on the floor, bending down to open the zipper, letting tiny Peaches crawl out of the bag.
She takes very hesitant steps, and here in the artificial light of the apartment, they can see her colours and markings, albeit a bit dull because of the dirt.
Peaches has beautiful green eyes, almost the colour of olives, dark lines running down the side of her nose, possibly an infection. Her fur is a mix of brown, red, white and grey, and she looks so tiny on the white carpet of their lounge room.
They coo at her, trying not to stand up too tall as to scare her. Harry bends down slowly to pick her up, and take her to the bathroom to give her an initiation bath.
Harry, having learnt from his mistakes with bathing Bruno, takes a damp, warm wash cloth and wipes the dirt away gently before getting the hairdryer out and slowing drying her off.
They take one of Bruno’s old beds and place it next to the kitty litter in the kitchen, hoping that they don’t have a repeat of Bruno’s first night. They place a bowl of fresh water and kibble down next to the bed, hoping that Peaches is intelligent enough to figure these crucial things out. She falls asleep as soon as she hits the pillowy bed, Harry, Louis and Bruno curled up in front of the television in the room next door.
*
Surprisingly, Bruno and Peaches get along quite well. After getting a few injections for Peaches, Harry and Louis get the all clear from the vet that the two cats can now touch each other. They groom each other, and Bruno teaches Peaches how to drink water from the bowl without getting it up her nose, how to push over cups of coffee and plates of toast off the table, and how to tear up the sofa pillows while Harry and Louis are out of the house.
They become best friends, curling up on the sofa or bed together, Bruno protecting the smaller, more docile cat with an arm around her. They do fight a lot, though, and despite being much smaller, Peaches puts up a good fight. They swipe at each other and wrestle while hissing and meowing and Louis has had to start cutting their nails after they came home to Bruno’s tiny pink nose bleeding slightly. The fights usually happen at night, their backs arched and tails poofy until one of them (Bruno, usually) backs down. Harry and Louis are used to the noises, and they sleep through them after some adjustments.
*
Within the three weeks of having Peaches and posting about her on Facebook, Louis has fallen in love with the cat. He ignores all the comments on the post about putting her up for adoption, deleting all the messages which come to his phone and email.
He just can’t give her up. And he tells Harry that no one is interested in her, so it looks like they’ll be keeping her.
Harry knows, though, but gives Louis the benefit of the doubt and thanks him with a kiss and a stellar blowjob.
*
Louis is curled up on the couch one Wednesday night, Peaches on his lap, Bruno lying on the carpet while Harry’s in the kitchen making something for dessert.
It’s a coffee and double chocolate mousse cake, the first dessert Harry made for him all those months ago.
Louis had no idea the page he spilt coffee on, on that one fateful Saturday would have such an impact on his life.
Imagine if he took that day off.
He looks at his life now, cozy and happy in front of him and can’t imagine how different his life would be.
He’s glad Elaine made him work that Saturday.