Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A high pitched buzzing sound pulled Louis from his sleep. He groaned, rolling over and pressing a pillow over his head. The sound continued, however, slowly shaking the cobwebs from Louis’ sleep-fogged brain.

The sound was his phone.

It was ringing.

He should probably answer it.

But before he could remember how to get his arms to move, the ringing cut off abruptly. Louis exhaled, pressing himself back into the pillows.

Less than ten seconds later, the ringing started again. He groaned, louder this time, and sat up, flinging the pillow across the bed as he fumbled for the phone.

“H’lo?”

There was a brief pause. “Louis?”

“Mmm?” Louis rubbed at his face. “What do you want?”

A sigh crackled through the small speakers, and while Louis hadn’t woken up enough to recognize the voice, there was no mistaking that long-suffering sigh.

“You have a new assignment,” Nick said, and that woke Louis up.

“Fucking finally,” Louis said. “Weeks and weeks of stupid little jobs-”

“Whose fault is that, exactly?” Nick retorted, and okay, he might have had a point. “How soon can you come into the office?”

“I just woke up!”

“Louis.”

Louis sighed. “I can probably make it in half an hour.”

“Good,” Nick said. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

“That’s not-”

Nick had already hung up. Louis stared at the phone for a moment, then sighed and went to get dressed.

Twenty-six minutes later, Louis walked into the office. Nick stood outside the door to the conference room.

“Took you long enough.”

Louis resisted the urge to flip him off, though only just. “Are they in there?”

“Yes,” Nick said. Louis moved to open the door, but Nick placed his hand on the handle. “Be polite,” he said.

Louis drew back. “Who exactly is in there?”

Nick studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Just… for once in your life, filter. Or don’t talk. I don’t really care which.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Louis-”

Before Nick could finish his sentence, the door to the conference room opened, a female face filling the gap. Louis knew that face.

“I beg your pardon,” the face said. “We heard voices. You must be Mr. Tomlinson.” She smiled, holding out a hand, which he shook numbly.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Nick said drily, “may I present Her Majesty Queen Anne.”

“Um.” Louis was speechless. “Pleasure.”

The Queen gestured to the open door. “Shall we?”

“Please,” Nick said, his voice only slightly strained.

The first thing Louis noticed when he entered the room was the two enormous men standing at the end of the table. They wore all black, and he could feel them looking him up and down, assessing him. He ignored them in favour of the second thing he noticed. A young man sat between the two guards, his hands folded carefully on the table in front of him. His face was slightly less familiar, since it wasn’t on currency, but Louis had no trouble identifying him as the Prince of Wales. What in blazes was going on here?

No one spoke as Louis, Nick, and Anne settled into seats around the table. At last, Nick cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, would you care to fill my operative in on the situation?”

Queen Anne nodded. “Yesterday at around five in the afternoon, there was a kidnapping attempt.” Louis met her eyes without reacting. “The execution of the plot was nearly flawless; it was sheer good fortune that he was detected and apprehended and my son rescued.”

“Who was the perpetrator?” Louis asked.

Anne folded her hands. “That is the reason we are here,” she said. “The attempt was carried out by one of the royal bodyguards, a man named Nathan Sykes. He has been in our employ for nearly a year.”

Louis couldn’t prevent his eyebrows from rising slightly. That was…unusual. “Did you learn anything from him?”

“Not much,” Anne said. “But he hinted that he was working with a larger cause, and that he was not the only member of our staff who was…compromised.” She spread her hands. “My son’s safety must be assured. I do not know who among the staff is trustworthy and who may have ulterior motives. That is why we have come to you. This company came highly recommended, and Mr. Grimshaw nominated you for the position.”

“You have already had the opportunity to review Mr. Tomlinson’s dossier,” Nick said, gesturing to a file folder that lay on the table. “Do you have any questions?”

“Just one.” Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While the file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?” Nick winced, and made to answer, but Anne stopped him. “I would prefer to hear the answer from Mr. Tomlinson himself,” she said. “Why have so many clients been dissatisfied with you?”

Louis could feel Nick’s gaze burning a hole in the side of his head, begging him not to screw this up. “It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”

“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.

Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”

“Mr. Tomlinson is my best operative,” Nick said. Louis smiled – not at the compliment, but at the sceptical glance the two bodyguards exchanged. “He does have a mouth on him, however,” Nick continued, “and very little filter. If he can’t protect the prince, few men can. The question is simply whether he will get himself hanged for insolence first.”

“I think we can work with a little insolence in return for safety,” Anne said. “Don’t you agree, Harry?”

Louis had almost forgotten the prince was there. As he raised his head, Louis was struck by how small he managed to seem. The prince was not a small man, but despite his public upbringing, as he sat at the conference table he seemed to shrink into himself. Or perhaps it was because of his upbringing.

“If you and Mr. Grimshaw believe Mr. Tomlinson to be suitable, I trust your judgement.”

Even his voice seemed small. It wasn’t exactly that it was quiet, not volume wise, but more that it didn’t command attention or take up space. It wasn’t what Louis expected of a prince. Odd.

“Excellent,” Nick said. “That just leaves the paperwork.”

The paperwork was Louis’ least favourite part. He glanced at the two bodyguards, and an idea occurred to him. “Unless you’d prefer a demonstration,” he said.

Nick looked like he wanted to strangle Louis, but Anne looked intrigued. “A demonstration? Of what?”

“My abilities. And my insolence, I guess.” Louis flashed a quick grin. “Your goons don’t think much of me. Perhaps they think I’m too small to be a threat. I invite them to test their mettle against me.”

“Louis, I don’t think-”

Anne silenced him with a single raised hand. She was smiling, and seemed almost amused as she glanced at the two bodyguards.

“Is Mr. Tomlinson correct?” she asked.

The men shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not our place to-”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Silence reigned for several long seconds. “It’s true that he doesn’t look like much,” one finally ventured.

“If you were only paid to guard people from the people who look like much, you’d need a second job,” Louis told them. “There’s a practice room down the hall, if you’re interested. I promise not to damage them.”

Anne laughed. “If they’re willing, I’d love to see that.”

Louis’ smile grew. He liked this lady. Queen. He should probably remember that she was royalty.

Nick’s smile was pained, but he stood. “As Your Majesty wishes.”

In the practice room, Louis removed his shirt, folding it neatly. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said to no one in particular. “It’s new.”

The two guards had begun to look uneasy, and Louis bit back a smile. This was going to be fun.

He stepped onto the practice mat, feeling its gentle spring beneath his shoes. “Well?” he said. “Don’t all attack me at once. Or do, I’m not particular.”

The men looked momentarily surprised, but exchanged brief looks, before advancing as one on Louis. Louis waited until they were only a few feet away, then swung into fluid motion. He sidestepped, kicking one in the knee just hard enough to unbalance him before shoving him into the other. They both stumbled, and Louis kept moving, dodging behind them where he looped a foot around the second guard’s ankle, pulling it out from under him. The man tried to keep his balance as he spun after Louis, but a well-placed punch to the sternum sent him sprawling.

For the other guard, Louis moved in close, grabbing one arm and twisting it up behind his back. The man flailed, trying to connect with Louis with the second arm, but Louis simply caught that one and twisted it as well.

“Do you submit?”

The guard was breathing hard, his head twisting around frantically. “No,” he said.

Louis’ foot shot out backwards, catching the first man who had been sneaking up on him in the groin. He whimpered and fell to his knees. Louis chuckled. “How about now?”

The guard was silent for a moment. “I submit.”

Louis stepped back, releasing both arms. The guard rolled his shoulders, turning to Louis. “You’re good,” he said, his tone one of grudging respect. “You’re small, but you can certainly fight.”

Louis smiled. “Never underestimate your opponent based on what he looks like,” he said. “Or she. Assuming someone is weak because they are small, female, or otherwise don’t look like a fighter is an excellent way to get dead. Remember that.”

He turned to face his audience. The two royals both looked astonished. Nick looked bored.

“If you’re done showing off,” Nick said pointedly, “could we return to the business at hand?”

“Certainly,” Louis said. “Should I put my shirt on first?”

Nick just gave him a scathing look and stalked out of the room.

After scrawling his signature on a few sheets of paper, Louis was given two hours to go home and pack while Nick went over the remaining details. When Louis returned an hour and forty minutes later, everything had been settled. Queen Anne shook Nick’s hand, thanking him for his help before climbing into the back of a large black car. Prince Harry did the same. Before Louis could take the third seat, Nick grasped him by the shoulder.

“Behave,” he instructed, his voice low but firm. “It will not help your case if the royal family sacks you.”

“Wouldn’t look good on you either,” Louis shot back.

“Just-” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re going to choose one job in your entire life to not be a dick, this would be the one. Please.”

Louis couldn’t remember the last time Nick had said please to him. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

Nick sighed. “You really are insufferable,” he said. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

Louis chuckled. “Because despite getting sacked more often than all your other employees, I still bring in the most money.”

“Ah yes.” Nick’s voice was dry. “That was it.”

“Plus, I’m hilarious and witty.”

“That’s definitely not it,” Nick said. “I could do without your wit. Your wit makes my life more difficult.”

“But my bum makes it all worthwhile.” Louis moved towards the car. “I won’t piss him off on purpose,” he said. “That’s as much as I can promise.”

Nick just shook his head.

The drive to the palace was the first opportunity Louis had to properly consider his new principal. Prince Harry sat in the middle of the backseat, with Queen Anne on his right and Louis on his left. Again, he seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible, tucking his hands into his lap and keeping his head down. His long hair fell across his face, obscuring it. Louis had barely even heard him speak yet. It jarred with the public figure that a prince had to be.

And indeed, Prince Harry had made plenty of public appearances. As the heir to the throne, he was in the papers what seemed like every week, doing some event or another. Louis’ sister Fizzy was always talking about the royals, and while she preferred the elder Princess Gemma, Prince Harry came up from time to time as well.

From what he could recall, the magazines Fizzy loved to devour described the young prince as something of a party boy, frequenting upscale clubs with his famous friends. It was hard to say how accurate that depiction was, but there would certainly be no clubbing while Louis was on guard. Darkness, noise, alcohol, and crowds of strangers didn’t lend themselves to safety.

Louis found himself wondering what this prince would be like. He’d had principals who’d been well-behaved, but they were far outnumbered by those who had been argumentative or demanding. A few had even tried to treat him as a servant, ordering him to fetch and carry things. He’d refused absolutely. His job was to guard, and being distracted with menial tasks or to having his hands occupied would interfere with that job.

Louis couldn’t quite slot Prince Harry into one of the categories yet. He was quiet now, but that didn’t fit with what else he’d heard and read. Besides, with the attack fresh in his mind, Harry would likely be far more compliant than he might normally be for a few days. At least until enough time had passed that he started to consider himself safe. That wasn’t Louis’ concern. Louis’ job was to assume that he wasn’t safe. Ever. It was why he was so good at what he did.

Staff opened the doors when they pulled up at the palace. Louis stepped out of the car, a hand resting loosely on his holstered gun as he scanned the area. “Wait, please,” he said to the prince who had started to exit the car. Harry obeyed wordlessly, and Louis finished assessing the area a minute later.

“All right,” he said. “We’re clear.”

“Are you going to do that every time?” Harry asked as they moved inside.

Louis just gave him a blank look. “Yes.”

“You certainly are thorough,” Queen Anne said with a light laugh.

Louis didn’t laugh. “That’s my job.”

“And you seem to be doing it excellently.” She smiled broadly, taking one of Harry’s hands and giving it a quick squeeze. “Why don’t you show Louis your rooms?”

“Yes, Mother,” Harry said. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then split off down a branching hallway. Louis quickened his pace to keep up. “Aren’t you supposed to stay, like, half a step behind me?” Harry asked as Louis beat him to another cross-corridor.

“So that if somebody is waiting around the corner, I’m half a step too far away to intervene?” Louis replied. “No thank you.”

“That wouldn’t happen here.”

“Remind me,” Louis said mildly. “Where exactly were you almost kidnapped again?”

“Point taken.” Harry lapsed into silence.

Louis considered him. His questions didn’t seem offended, merely curious, and perhaps surprised. It was true that Louis’ methods were a bit unorthodox, and he was used to being challenged enough that he tended to be slightly defensive, but he’d never lost a principal yet.

At last Harry stopped in front of an impressively ornate door. He unlocked it and was about to open it when Louis stopped him.

“Let me,” he said, motioning for Harry to take a step back. He did, and Louis carefully pushed the door open, sticking his head in to peer around. Seeing no one, he entered. Harry followed him.

The tour of Harry’s suite of rooms took longer than it might have, as Louis continued to insist on preceding him into every room. Louis also had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the unnecessary lavishness of everything – there were two kitchens and three bedrooms, not to mention about four living rooms, all of which Louis considered far too much for one person. At least Harry chose not to keep staff – that would be an exhausting number of people to keep track of all the time.

A small rollaway bed had been set up in Harry’s room, which seemed to surprise him. “Are you going to be sleeping here too?”

“Yes,” Louis answered. “While you’re sleeping would be the perfect time for someone to get the drop on you.”

“How are you going to protect me while you’re asleep?”

Louis flashed a small smile. “I’m a very light sleeper when I’m on duty.”

“How light?”

Louis chuckled. “Let’s just say that I’ve had a couple principals who hired guard dogs as well as me.” He shrugged. “I woke up first. Plus I’m never distracted by a steak dinner.”

Harry looked mildly impressed, but didn’t ask further questions as they continued the tour.

When that was finished, they retired to the second largest living room to relax – or rather, Harry relaxed while Louis stood quietly in the corner. When the doorbell rang, Louis was instantly on the alert.

“I’ll get it,” Harry said, standing, but Louis was in front of him before he could take another step.

“You really won’t.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You really think I would answer without checking who was there?”

Louis stood firm, blocking his path to the door. “My job is to protect you,” he said. “That means getting between you and any threat.”

“And how exactly would you be able to determine if whoever’s out there is a threat?” Harry asked exasperatedly. “You don’t know any of my friends, or the staff.”

“That’s easy,” Louis said. “The secret to my success: assume everyone is a threat.”

Harry regarded him silently for a moment. “That sounds lonely.”

Louis was thrown completely off guard by that remark. Before he could recover, Harry had pushed past him to the hallway. By the time Louis caught up, he was peering through the peephole in the door.

“It’s my friend, Xander,” he said, starting to open the door.

Louis’ hand landed atop his on the handle with a little more force than was probably necessary. “You go stand over there,” he said.

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You’re overreacting,” he said. “You don’t need to be so paranoid. Xander would never hurt me.”

“In my line of work, ‘paranoid’ is another word for ‘still alive’,” Louis replied. “Go stand over there. Now. I’ll let your friend in.”

Harry looked like he wanted to argue further, his eyes flashing, but at last he obeyed. When he was far enough from the door, Louis peered through the peephole himself.

Xander was tall but not imposing. He was relaxed, his hands in his pockets as he waited. After confirming that Xander was alone and unarmed, Louis opened the door.

“Took you long en – you’re not Harry.”

“Observant of you,” Louis said before he could stop himself. He stepped back, opening the door wider to let him inside.

 “Sorry, Xander,” Harry said as Louis closed the door behind Xander. “New bodyguard. He’s a bit… intense. But my mother insisted, after yesterday.” He threw Louis a dirty look, which Louis ignored. He’d heard worse. Earned worse too.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Xander said as they walked back to the living room. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Pretty much what I told you.” Harry shrugged, moving to sit on the sofa. Xander sat next to him. “I was here alone when Nathan got me with chloroform. Packed me up in a laundry bag and wheeled me right out. If his car hadn’t got a flat…”

“Well, thank God it did.” Xander touched Harry’s shoulder. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m okay,” Harry said, giving him a half smile. “A bit shook up, but none the worse for wear. I was lucky.”

Louis stood where he had a clear line of sight to all points of entry, but between scanning for motion he studied Harry and Xander. They sat close together, closer than Louis would have with his friends. But then, Louis had never been a particularly tactile person. He scanned the doors and windows again.

“Xander, I wanted to-” Harry stopped, glancing at Louis. “Can we have a minute?”

Louis shook his head. “I have my orders.”

Harry frowned. “Oh, for pity’s sake – just one quick minute alone!”

“No exceptions,” Louis said flatly. “A minute is long enough for any number of things to happen. If Xander tried something-”

“He would never-”

“-or if there was a sniper through the window, it’s my job to protect you. And I will. I can’t protect you from the next room.”

Xander didn’t look offended, or even particularly surprised. He smiled wryly at Harry. “This is what I meant when we-”

“Don’t,” Harry said tightly. “I know, okay? I’ve been living with it my entire life.” He shook his head. “Fine. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“Me?” Xander said. “Harry, I’m nobody. Why would they care about me?”

“Because you’re somebody to me,” Harry said. “Nathan knew that, and so whoever’s behind this probably knows too. They might try to use you to get to me.”

“I don’t think-”

“Just promise me.” Harry gripped Xander’s arm. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you. Especially if it was my fault.”

Xander’s expression was soft, affectionate. “Always trying to mother me.”

Harry chuckled. “You love it.”

“Yeah.” Xander stood. “I always did.”

“Are you leaving already?” Harry asked, standing as well.

“I have to,” Xander said, tapping his watch. “I’m supposed to be back at work in twenty minutes.” He threw Harry a teasing smile. “Some of us actually have to work for a living.”

Harry laughed, shoving him gently. “Go on then,” he said. “Get out of here.”

Louis was at the door before they could reach it, checking the peephole for anyone in the hall before opening the door. Only after sticking his head out to check both ways did he open it wide enough for Xander to leave.

Xander paused in the doorway, turning back to Louis. “You’ll keep him safe, yeah?”

Louis was startled, but didn’t show it. “That’s my job,” he said. “I don’t take that lightly.”

Xander nodded. “Good.”

“Are you siding with him?” Harry asked from behind Louis.

“I want you safe,” Xander said with a shrug. “If this guy can do that, that’s enough for me.”

“Traitor,” Harry grumbled.

Xander reached past Louis to ruffle Harry’s hair. “Take care of yourself, hairball.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry smiled. “You too.”

With a final wave, Xander headed off down the hall. Harry shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. When he turned, his expression was imposing and his posture impeccable. It was as though he had grown an extra three inches. Louis was impressed. So this was how he acted the Prince.

“I trust I don’t have to tell you that anything you witness while protecting me is confidential.”

“Of course,” Louis said, confused. “Standard procedure. Besides, I signed an NDA. I couldn’t tell anyone if I wanted to.”

Harry’s eyes flared. “It’s nice to know you only keep my secrets to avoid a lawsuit.”

Louis’ jaw dropped. “That’s not what I said,” he said. “I only meant-”

Harry walked away. He headed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Louis raced after him, pausing only a moment before he opened the door and slipped inside.

The room was thankfully empty except for an angry but otherwise unharmed prince lying on the bed, and Louis silently made his way to a corner. Harry glared at him before rolling over to face away from him. Louis sighed inwardly.

“I understand that you’re frustrated with me.” Harry stiffened, but said nothing. Louis continued, his voice low and calm. “I will be much more invasive than your other bodyguards have ever been, and that will take getting used to. You are at greater risk, however, and I will provide greater protection to compensate. In future, you are not to enter a room that I have not checked first.”

“You can’t order me around,” Harry grumbled. “I outrank you.”

“If you are to be protected, I can and I will.”

Harry sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Just – fine.” Louis said nothing. “I’m going to make dinner,” Harry said after a moment. “Unless you think someone will be hiding in the oven, ready to jump out at me.”

Louis again said nothing. That seemed to annoy Harry. He glared at Louis before standing and stalking to the door. Louis was about to call out when he stopped by himself just before the door. “If you would be so kind?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Louis didn’t mind sarcasm, though he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from commenting that he hadn’t realised royals were allowed to be sarcastic. Nick would probably have had a fit. So instead of drawing on his own substantial experience with sarcasm, he silently crossed to the door, opening it and peering out before nodding to Harry and walking through into the room.

He did look inside the oven before he would let Harry use it, but more in case of booby traps – bombs, or poison – than for concealed attackers. He checked the cooker, turning all the burners on and off, and the fridge and microwave. By the time he finished, Harry looked more than a little annoyed.

“Do I at least get to pee alone?” he asked as he took dishes out of the cupboards with what was probably a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“Yes,” Louis said. “Though I will check the room first. And the bathroom window must be covered.”

“Oh, well if that’s all.”

Louis clenched his jaw. He should be used to this; he’d gone over it enough times. But it never ceased to amaze him how much people seemed to value their privacy and convenience over their life. “I realize that it isn’t easy,” he said. “But my job is not the same as the other bodyguards you’ve had. They were as much to dissuade anything from happening as to stop it, and the threats they usually faced were comparatively minor. My job is to assume that you are constantly in danger, and stop that danger from reaching you. Being thorough is the most effective way to do that.”

He could see the prince’s fingers tighten around a spatula until his knuckles were nearly white. It was clearly only with great effort that he unclenched them and set the utensil down.

“Fine,” he said. “But I don’t have to like it.”

“No,” Louis said, surprised but grateful that the prince had acquiesced so easily. “You don’t have to like it, and I don’t really expect you too.” He paused for a moment before adding, “It will be easier, though, if you cooperate. For both of us.”

Harry sighed. “We’ll see.”

Louis decided that would have to do.

It soon became clear that Harry despised the new restrictions and invasions of privacy that Louis brought. All public appearances and events that could be moved, cancelled, or postponed were, which left the prince with almost more time than he knew what to do with. Without going out in public, however, there wasn’t a great deal he could do. Most of his time was spent lounging on the sofa watching Netflix. Occasionally he visited his older sister in her rooms, and Louis found he quite enjoyed Gemma’s wit and humour, as overheard from the corner of the room.

By the end of the week Harry seemed ready to snap. His eyes flashed whenever Louis spoke to him, and his replies were short and terse. Louis tried not to intentionally antagonize him, but he was unwilling to bend when it came to safety.

“I have a perfect track record for a reason,” he told Harry one day. “You’re not going to be the one to mess that up.”

“My heart bleeds,” Harry said, his voice bitter. “God forbid your golden boy status be ruined by little old me.”

After that, Louis mostly stopped trying to reason with him, speaking only when absolutely necessary.

The next night, Louis was about to lie down on his rollaway bed in Harry’s room when he checked his phone to see a message from his friend and co-worker, Liam.

How’s school?

Louis chuckled quietly, already typing out a response. I don’t think he likes me very much, but what else is new.

Liam’s reply arrived a moment later: You really have to stop doing that.

Their safety is my priority, Louis sent back, not their happiness. It was an old argument, and this was probably not the last time they would have it.

Play nice, was all Liam said in response.

Louis snorted, then looked up to see if he’d woken Harry. The sleeping prince didn’t move, but Louis decided it was time to put the phone away. Do I even know how to do that? he sent, then set the phone down on his folded clothes, beside the small black pistol he always carried. He was about to shut his eyes when Liam’s reply arrived, momentarily lighting up the screen.

You’d be surprised.

Louis just shook his head. Moments later, he was fast asleep.

Louis awoke to a soft thud and muffled swearing. It was quiet, but he was on his feet in an instant, gun outstretched towards the source of the noise. A shadowy figure stood near the window, bent over, though Louis couldn’t tell what he was doing. The figure didn’t appear to have noticed Louis yet, and he padded closer, his feet silent on the thick carpeting. He was only a few feet away when the figure straightened, his profile silhouetted against the faint moonlight from the window. Louis recognized that profile.

“Harry?”

The figure jumped, spinning around to face Louis and whacking his hand on the windowsill. “Ouch!” he said, and that voice was definitely Harry’s. Not to mention the clumsiness. Some people found it endearing, apparently, but Louis couldn’t imagine why.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“I could ask you the same question.” The moonlight was just enough for Louis to discern that Harry was fully dressed, his clothes plainer than any Louis had seen him wear before. “Are you going somewhere?”

Harry said nothing, just kicked sullenly at the carpet.

Louis sighed. It was too late at night for this. “Go back to bed, Harry,” he said, turning to return to his own much simpler bed. He wasn’t even halfway there before he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Why couldn’t his assignments ever be simple or cooperative? He turned, meeting Harry’s mulish stare with one of his own.

“I’m not going back to bed,” Harry said.

“I noticed that.” Louis bit back several more scathing comments, forcing himself to be polite. It wasn’t easy. “Look, if you’re trying to sneak out to go clubbing or something-”

Harry’s head jerked up. “You think I-”

“-this just really isn’t a good time.”

Harry’s eyes blazed with anger, his whole body rigid. “I am not so stupid as to risk my life just to get drunk,” he said tightly.

Louis just managed to bite back the sarcasm on the tip of his tongue. “Where were you planning on going, then?” he asked. “And why are you doing it in the middle of the night out a second floor window?”

Surprise registered momentarily on Harry’s face. “How did you know I was going out the window?”

“Well, given that the other option involves sneaking through an entire palace full of staff who would recognize you on sight and ask what you were doing up at this hour, especially without a bodyguard-”

“All right, I get it.”

“That plan would be even more stupid than going clubbing while an unidentified organisation is targeting you.”

“I’m not-”

“You said that,” Louis said. “It doesn’t really matter, though, since you’re not going anywhere.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I don’t really care to.” He glanced at his bed. It looked so comfortable, so horizontal even if it wasn’t all that soft. “Go back to-”

“I’m going to the hospital.”

Louis blinked. “What?”

“The Royal Marsden. That’s where I’m going.”

“I’m familiar with it.” It was a cancer hospital, not too far from the palace. But Louis couldn’t imagine why Harry would be going there, and at this ungodly hour. He was so surprised he forgot to continue insisting Harry go to bed. “But… why?” he asked instead.

“For the kids,” Harry said. “They’re going through hell. A little bit means a lot to them.”

Louis stared at him. He couldn’t work this guy out. But when Harry turned back to the window, Louis’ hand flashed out in an instant, holding it shut.

“How do you even-”

“Practice,” Louis said absently. “Lots and lots of practice. It becomes instinct.” His eyes searched Harry’s. He seemed sincere. Not that it mattered, Louis reminded himself with a shake of his head. “It’s too dangerous,” he said aloud. “You could be hurt, or kidnapped, or killed.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “My entire life is dangerous. But those kids-” Something passed across Harry’s face. “They’re braver than I’ll ever be.”

Louis was silent for a long moment, studying him.

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I guess-”

Louis pushed open the window. He turned back to Harry, who was staring at him, mouth agape. “Well?” Louis asked. “What are you waiting for?”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.” He was also probably very stupid, and almost certainly going to regret this in the morning, but as long as they both survived the night, that was okay. “Try not to fall and break your neck.”

“Why do I get to drive?” Harry asked as they pulled away from the palace.

“Well, first of all, you know where you’re going.” Louis didn’t even have to look away from scanning the streets to know that Harry was giving him a scornful look. “This way I can focus on outside threats,” Louis explained. “Don’t have to focus on not maiming trees. And if something does happen, my hands and attention are free to respond. I could even grab the steering wheel if I needed to.”

“Hmm.” Harry sounded thoughtful. “Statistically speaking, though, aren’t I at most risk of death or injury from a car accident?”

Louis laughed. Was that a joke? He hadn’t known Prince Harry had a sense of humour. “Statistically, maybe,” he admitted. “Try not to crash the car.”

“Yes sir.”

“And…” Louis glanced briefly at him before returning to his scans. “You’re not exactly the average person.”

Harry sighed, and Louis could feel the energy in the car shift. “I know.”

Louis found himself wishing he hadn’t spoken. It had been the first time Harry had seemed happy all week.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

When they arrived at the hospital, Harry greeted the desk clerk by name.

“Good to see you again,” Ed replied with a smile from behind his computer. “Zayn is waiting in the ward.”

Harry thanked him and headed down the hall.

Louis’ pulse was racing and his eyes darted in every direction. The hospital felt like a maze to him, with hallways all over the place, though Harry navigated it with practiced ease. At least the late hour meant that the building was nearly deserted, most people having either gone home or retired to their rooms. Only a very few staff members still roamed the halls, and no one gave Harry any trouble, but Louis didn’t let his guard down.

A dark-haired man with chiselled cheekbones stood to greet them as they entered the Oak Centre for Children and Young People. “Glad you could make it,” he said, slapping Harry’s shoulder warmly. “You said you weren’t sure you could.”

“I’m pleasantly surprised myself,” Harry said. “Zayn, this is Louis.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Zayn said, sticking out a hand.

Louis shook it. “Pleasure,” he said, not really meaning it.

“You should probably go see Campbell first,” Zayn told Harry as they moved farther into the ward. “She refused to go to bed until I promised you’d visit her first.”

“Then it’s a good thing I managed to come,” Harry said with a laugh. “I’d hate for her to think you’re a liar.”

Zayn grinned fondly. “I missed you too, you big lug. And I would have told her that it held for the next time you came.”

Harry was smiling too as he pushed open a green door decorated with paper flowers. Louis considered stepping in front of him, but decided not to. He hadn’t even known Harry was coming; there was no way anyone else had. And a cancer ward made a pretty poor place for an ambush.

The room was dark, and Louis could barely see, but Harry moved purposefully through the blackness. After a moment, Louis’ eyes adjusted enough to make out a bed at the side of the room, with a small form curled beneath the blankets. A nightlight glowed dimly, tracing the room in black and white silhouettes. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand gently on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey Cam, it’s me.”

The small form stirred, then rolled over. “Harry!” a slightly shrill voice squealed, and she threw her arms around his neck.

Harry chuckled, a low, throaty noise. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, returning her embrace. “How are you?”

She buried her face in his shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said. “Got any stories for me?”

She immediately launched into a tale about one of the other patients in the ward dying her doll’s hair bright blue. “She’s supposed to be blonde,” she insisted to Harry, and she sounded so much like Louis little sisters that he had to double check that she wasn’t. “But Mum says she’ll get me a new one, so it’s okay.”

“And now you’ll have two dolls,” Harry said.

Campbell nodded vigorously. “Jake was trying to be mean but I guess it didn’t work, did it?”

Harry laughed again. “Every cloud has a silver lining.”

Campbell’s forehead wrinkled. “What does that mean?”

Harry smoothed the sheets over her. “It means that even when bad things happen, there’s usually something good that happens too. Jake messed up your doll, but you got a new doll out of it.”

Louis heard motion from the doorway and turned quickly to see Zayn entering the room with a small tray. “Time for midnight meds,” he said, his voice warm and quiet. He handed a cup of pills and a cup of water to Harry, who passed first one then the other to Campbell. She took the medicine obediently as Harry rubbed her back.

“I’ll let you get some more sleep,” Harry said, standing.

Campbell sat up straighter. “I don’t want you to go!”

“I know, Cammie,” Harry said. “But you’ve got to rest up so you can play with your new doll in the morning. I’ll be back when I can. I promise.”

Campbell pouted, but lay obediently back on the pillows. “Bye Harry,” she called as they headed to the door.

He waved back at her. “Bye Cam!”

The light in the hall felt blinding after the semi-darkness of the room, and Louis blinked rapidly as his eyes burned.

Zayn handed Harry a tray with more little plastic cups. “This is for the yellow room,” he said. “Jamie may still be awake; he had surgery this afternoon.”

“Got it,” Harry said, walking down the hall. Louis followed a moment later, rubbing his eyes. He felt slightly out of place, and even more thrown by the completely different version of Harry he was seeing. The Harry he’d spent the past week with was quiet, if occasionally moody. He moved slowly, and had a tendency to slouch. The Harry he’d seen on television was a solid figure with impeccable posture. He was charismatic, but there were moments where he seemed out of his depth, and spontaneity didn’t seem to be his strong suit.

But this Harry was self-assured and comfortable, moving quickly and efficiently. He knew what he was doing and he was good at it. He seemed more at ease than Louis had ever seen him. It was a refreshing change, or at least it would be if it didn’t feel so strange.

Jamie was awake, complaining to Harry that the pain wouldn’t let him sleep. Harry gave him his meds, then helped him out of bed to use the loo. As he was helping him back into bed, a child in one of the other three beds in the room began to toss, muttering unintelligibly. Harry glanced at the child, back to Jamie, then finally at Louis.

“Jamie, will you let Louis tuck you back in?” he asked. “I think Marcus is having another nightmare.”

Jamie sucked his thumb as they both looked at Louis. He was startled, but only hesitated a moment before stepping forward to take Harry’s place. “C’mon kiddo,” he said. “Gotta rest up for tomorrow, yeah?” He caught Harry’s grateful look before he crossed to the other bed, shaking the dreamer gently and starting to whisper to him.

Jamie giggled quietly as Louis lifted him into the bed, giving him a gentle bounce. He pulled the covers up around the little boy. He was too small, Louis realised as he tucked in the sheets; tall enough to be nearly ten, but far too thin. His face was pinched, and he felt fragile under Louis’ hands. Louis forced himself to smile as he cajoled Jamie into shutting his eyes and trying to sleep.

When his breathing started to slow, Louis stood and moved back towards Harry. He was finishing up with Marcus, telling him a story in a low voice as him eyes fluttered shut. A minute later he stood, picking up the tray from the nightstand. He smiled at Louis as they moved to the third bed. “Thanks for the help,” he whispered. “You’re good with kids.”

“So are you,” Louis said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. It seemed to be a good answer, though, judging by the way Harry smiled. Louis hadn’t seen him smile like that all week. Hadn’t seen him relaxed, or happy, since that first day. Somehow being here, with these sick kids, in the middle of the night, seemed to be where he felt the most himself. Louis couldn’t quite make sense of it. It was good to see him happy, though – Harry’s happiness might not be his priority, as he so often said, but that didn’t really mean he wanted Harry unhappy, no matter how much he might poke the anthill. This work seemed to bring him genuine delight. Louis couldn’t find it in his heart to begrudge him that.

The night was dark and silent as they left the hospital and began the drive back to the palace. Louis’ head, however, was buzzing. Harry was – confusing. And he had so many questions.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked as Harry indicated a left turn.

He glanced at Louis before looking back to the road. “About a year, I think?” he said. “Two or three times a week when I can manage it. Obviously when I have duties outside the country I can’t visit.” His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “Most of them don’t know I’m a prince.”

That surprised Louis. Everything about Harry seemed to be surprising him tonight. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not the point,” he said, gesturing at nothing. “When I’m there I’m not Prince Harry, heir to the throne. I’m not rich or important and powerful. I’m just their friend. That’s all they really care about. That’s all they need. They need a friend. I can be that for them. And it’s nice to just be… normal for once. Even if it’s only for an hour.”

“Do any of them know?”

“A few.” Harry shrugged. “Madison, for instance – the one who told us about the puppy she’s going to get – she recognized me quite quickly. But most of them don’t follow royalty much, and don’t know me with my hair hidden.” He tugged gently on his beanie, which Louis hadn’t noticed. It was true; with his signature long locks tucked up inside it, and dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, he looked very different from the stylish and regal prince he was at public events. Though Louis was prepared to swear that the t-shirt cost at least eighty quid.

“Is it hard?” Louis asked after a minute of silence.

Harry was silent for even longer. “Sometimes,” he said at last. “Some of them don’t make it.” He bit his lip. “Those are hard. And I can’t even – I mean, the hospital is for treatment. Not hospice care. So I don’t see them-” He stopped again, the only sound the soft hum of the engine. “I send flowers,” he added after a minute. “I know it’s not much, but. It’s what I can do.”

 “And the others?” Louis asked, wanting to redirect the mood. He didn’t like the heaviness in Harry’s eyes.

Harry smiled slightly. “Most of them get better,” he said. “Or at least, their treatment ends well and they leave the hospital. I don’t know what happens to them after.” His eyes looked faintly misty, though perhaps that was just the weather. It was always hard to tell in London. “I miss them, though I’m glad they get to leave and go back to a normal life. They’re children; they have so much ahead of them. I hate to see it ripped away.”

“Cancer sucks at any age,” Louis said. “But it really sucks for the kids.”

“They grow up fast,” Harry said, nodding. “Even if they get better, they aren’t the same. They aren’t innocent and carefree anymore. No five-year-old should have to worry about their own death.”

Louis hummed in agreement. There didn’t really seem to be anything to say.

Three nights later, Harry didn’t even pretend to go to bed. He had spent the preceding hour reading when he glanced at his watch and stood. Louis didn’t understand the looks Harry threw his way until he saw the clothes Harry pulled out of a drawer. It was the beanie that did it. Louis wondered for a moment why Harry kept these clothes in a drawer in his room, instead of in the massive walk-in closet, but dismissed the thought for a later date. He had other concerns, requiring more immediate attention.

“I’m going,” Harry said as Louis opened his mouth to speak. “You can’t stop me.” He winced, presumably realizing that was an obviously foolish statement, so Louis decided not to focus on it.

“Do I need to remind you of the danger you’re in?” Louis asked instead, his voice buttery smooth. “The risks that this poses?”

Harry sighed. “No, you don’t,” he said. “I’ve been reminded of them by someone or another almost every day of my life.” His expression was mulish. “But a life with no risks is hardly worth living.”

“It’s safe.”

“It’s boring,” Harry burst. “There are days where I feel like I’m suffocating under all the worry and restrictions and protections. I have to – this is my outlet. My escape. The only time I feel normal. Without it, without some kind of break, I swear I’ll go crazy.”

Louis chewed at his bottom lip. “You can’t-”

“Louis, I need this.”

Louis gave him a flat look. “Will you let me finish speaking?”

Harry looked mildly chagrined. When Louis was relatively sure he wouldn’t interrupt again, he continued speaking.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t keep springing these on me with no warning.”

Harry’s mouth flapped open. “But – you – I didn’t-”

“Aren’t princes supposed to be eloquent?” Louis couldn’t help asking.

Spots of colour appeared high in Harry’s cheeks. “I didn’t want to give you time to argue,” he said after a moment.

Louis chuckled. “If I decided I was going to argue, you wouldn’t be able to stop me,” he said. “No matter when you told me.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Harry admitted. “Does that mean I have your permission?”

“Yes,” Louis said with a sigh. “Next time, tell me earlier, though. So I can take a nap. Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

Harry obeyed, closing the door of the closet behind him. Louis pulled out his phone, sending off a message to Nick. If Harry was going to insist on these night-time expeditions, boosting the security at the hospital would be useful. Hopefully by the next time Harry got it into his head to visit, Nick would have got another operative a position there, using the multitude of resources both legitimate and… less so that were available to him. Then less of the burden of protection would fall directly on Louis. Well. Slightly less.

Two days later Harry declared that if he didn’t get outside he was going to scream, and Louis agreed to a walk in the areas of the park that were not open to the public. The weather didn’t seem to want to cooperate, however, with ominous, grey clouds threatening rain from the moment they stepped outside. After about half an hour it began to drizzle, and Louis considered suggesting they return, but decided it would be received poorly. When it began to rain in earnest, Harry scowled at the sky and then Louis, but headed back to the palace.

They were both drenched by the time they got back inside, but Harry laughed and waved off concerned staff. He accepted a towel, however, “for the sake of the carpets,” as he told the woman who handed it to him. Louis accepted another one with a smile and a nod of thanks.

“I’m going to take a hot shower,” Harry announced as they approached his rooms. “I’m not coming out for at least an hour.”

Louis was about to respond when he saw movement down the hall. A young woman was emerging from Harry’s rooms, looking both ways. She started when she saw them coming.

“What were you doing in there?” Louis called out to her, his pace quickening.

The girl looked nervous. “Just tidying up a bit. I’m a maid, after all.” She tried for a laugh, but it petered out when Louis didn’t join in.

“Louis, I don’t think-” Harry tried to interject, but Louis held up a hand and he fell silent.

“The staff don’t care for the Prince’s quarters,” Louis said. “He prefers to keep his things private.”

“Is that so?” The girl laughed nervously. “I didn’t know. I’m new here.”

“No you’re not.” Harry was frowning as he moved up to stand next to Louis. “You’ve worked here for nearly a year, Marie.”

Marie was pale, but she kept her smile plastered on. “I must have been distracted,” she said.

Harry took another step forward. “Then why did you lie?”

“I was… I didn’t want to lose my place,” she said. “Please, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just-”

“How did you get into the Prince’s rooms?” Louis interrupted.

“The staff have master keys,” she said. “They let us into any of the rooms.”

“That’s a lie,” Harry said immediately. “I don’t think there are any master keys, but even if there were, the staff only get keys to their assigned areas. And no one is assigned to my rooms.”

“How do you-” Marie’s face was nearly white as she looked between Harry and Louis. Abruptly she turned and sprinted down the hall.

Louis was after her in an instant, and he tackled her before she made it ten metres. She struggled, but this was what he had trained for. In seconds he had her face down, her hands pinned behind her as he sat on her back.

“Call for help,” he instructed Harry, not taking his eyes off of Marie for a second. “And don’t go near the apartment. I’m sweeping the entire thing.”

He waited until he heard the tones of a mobile phone dialling and then Harry’s voice speaking in hushed tones before he returned his entire attention to his target. She was struggling desperately, and it was quite a job to keep her restrained. He shifted his grip on her arms, twisting them up behind her until he heard her gasp. He pushed just a little bit harder, then eased the pressure off to where it would be uncomfortable but not quite painful. She kicked, and he shifted his weight down to pin her legs.

“I am very good at this,” he told her. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

She didn’t stop struggling, but her efforts grew weaker. A minute later he heard footsteps and looked up to see several guards running down the hall towards them. He climbed off of Marie and yanked her to her feet. When she looked like she was thinking of trying to run, he gave her arms another painful wrench before shoving her in the direction of the approaching guards. She stumbled forward for a few steps, then walked obediently towards them, her head bowed.

A few seconds later the guards had taken charge of the captive and had her handcuffed tightly. Louis returned his attention to Harry, who was standing against the wall, the one away from the apartment, thankfully. He walked over.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Harry nodded, but his lips were pressed together in a thin line. “I knew her,” he said. “I liked her.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said. “I don’t know what she did, or why, but-”

“She ran,” Harry said bleakly. “She wouldn’t have run if she hadn’t done something. She wouldn’t have lied.”

Louis wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to say something, wanted to help, to make Harry feel better, but he didn’t know how.

“Harry!”

They both turned to see Gemma running down the hall in her stocking feet, high heeled shoes swinging from one hand. Anne followed more sedately behind, though concern was evident in her face. “Are you okay?”

“Just shaken,” Harry said as Gemma buried him in a bear hug. “She never got near me.”

Gemma pulled back, examining his face. “You look awful.”

“Someone may have just tried to kill me,” he replied. “How am I supposed to look?”

“Thank you, Louis,” Anne said as she reached them. “I understand that it was your prompt action that both identified the servant as a threat, and prevented her escape.”

“It wasn’t just some random servant,” Harry said. His voice was hoarse. “It was Marie.”

Gemma’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“I can’t believe – but she was always so kind! And so efficient.”

Harry shrugged. Louis scrutinized his face for a moment. His face was ashen, and he was shivering. Louis suddenly remembered that they were both drenched.

“Can we discuss this later?” he asked abruptly. “I think Harry needs to change. And lie down. Preferably somewhere other than his rooms.”

“I’m not a child,” Harry said, glaring at Louis.

“That’s not-”

“Goodness, you’re soaked!” Anne exclaimed before Louis could finish arguing. “Did you get caught in the storm? You need to get out of those wet things.”

“My rooms are closest,” Gemma said, pointing. “I can probably find something to fit.”

“Still trying to play dress up with me, Gems?” Harry tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Gemma wrapped an arm around him.

“Not another word,” she instructed. “Save your energy.”

Anne followed as Gemma led Harry down the halls. Louis walked two steps ahead of them, eyes moving constantly. He insisted on entering Gemma’s rooms ahead of her exactly as he would Harry’s. Her eyes flashed momentarily, but a glance at Harry had her obediently stepping back. A few minutes later Harry was installed in one of the luxurious bathrooms, the shower blasting hot water until steam started to leak under the door. Louis paced in front of the door, unable to stand still.

Anne and Gemma sat on a sofa, speaking in hushed voices. After about ten minutes, Anne’s phone rang, and after a brief conversation she stood, giving Gemma a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t leave Harry alone,” she instructed Gemma. “He’ll be terrified, but he’ll never admit it.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Gemma promised. “And so will Louis, I’m sure.”

“I will,” Louis said.

Anne smiled shakily. “Between the two of you, what more could a mother ask for?” she said. “I’ll let you know when I know something more. Be careful.”

“Always am,” Gemma said, and Anne laughed.

“No you aren’t.”

“No,” Gemma said. “I’m not. But I will be.”

Anne gave her hand one last squeeze before breezing out into the hallway.

Harry emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe. Gemma laughed.

“Why is it that you manage to wear that better than me?”

Harry flashed a grin. “Natural talent.”

“Must be.” Gemma stood. “Well, as good as that looks on you, what say we go find you some actual clothes.”

Harry laughed, and followed her to the bedroom. Louis checked it first, and Gemma glanced at Harry.

“He does this for every room?”

Harry nodded.

“I can see why you complained.” She dug into a stack of trousers on a shelf in her closet, which was almost as large as Harry’s. “Though I suppose I can’t argue with the results.” She handed him a pair of jeans, and tugged a loose silken button down off a hanger. “Here, put these on. They look like your style. You’re wearing your own underwear, though. And don’t even think about going commando.”

“Spoilsport,” Harry said, but he was smiling. “Now clear out, or I’ll flash you all.”

Gemma immediately turned, grabbing Louis’ arm. “He will,” she said as she pulled him out of the closet and shut the door behind them. “He’s never been much of one for modesty. Well. That kind. He’s very modest by the other definition.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Louis said.

She glanced at him. “Haven’t you been guarding him for the better part of a month?”

“Only about two weeks,” Louis corrected. “But we don’t do much. And I certainly haven’t seen him naked.”

“Impressive,” Gemma said with a laugh. “I’ve had more eyefuls than I care to remember. I suppose he tries to be more decorous when staff are about. Probably for the best. It’s always hard to know who to trust.” Her face darkened, and Louis could tell she was thinking about Marie.

“She’s in custody now,” he said. “She won’t be a concern any longer.”

Gemma gave a wry smile. “She might not be,” she said, “but it’s not bodily harm we usually have to worry about. When I was twelve, one of the staff was caught putting some of my old things on eBay for people who wanted a royal souvenir. When I was seventeen, another servant tried to sell tours of my rooms for exorbitant amounts of money.”

Louis’ was sure his shock was plain on his face, but Gemma wasn’t looking at him.

“That’s not even getting into the lies the media will tell on a slow news day, or their fascination with any sort of scandal or possible romantic partner. I hate having to hide my relationships, but it’s the only way to get some privacy and build a foundation. And it’s just impossible to maintain something without that foundation, once the entire world is sticking their nose in and giving their opinion. It’s exhausting.”

“I had no idea,” Louis said honestly. “I’ve worked with celebrities before, but – I guess my principals are usually older. I suppose it’s different when you’re settled in it.”

“We’ve grown up with this,” Gemma said with a shrug. “We’ve had to learn who we are in the public eye, and sometimes I worry that Harry doesn’t know who he is outside of it. He’s so… guarded. It’s not easy keeping secrets in the spotlight.”

The door of the closet opened before Louis could ask what she meant, and Harry emerged dressed in Gemma’s clothes. The style matched so well with Harry’s usual that Louis thought he looked almost the same as always. Gemma circled him, tugging on the collar of the shirt.

“Again, you look better than I do,” she said. “This really isn’t fair, you know.”

Harry laughed. “It looks great on you,” he said. “Don’t put yourself down. Also, you forget that I bought you this shirt.”

“Ah yes,” Gemma said. “What would I do without you and your fashion sense?”

“You’d give your stylist even more headaches,” Harry replied, ruffling her hair. “Poor woman.”

Gemma laughed and gave him a gentle shove. “Shut up, you big lug.”

“You love me.”

“Maybe. A little bit.”

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the friendly teasing, and the smiles fell abruptly from both their faces.

“I’ll get it,” Louis said. “Follow me.”

When he opened the door, a short man in the garb of the palace staff stood in the hallway. “Are Their Royal Highnesses here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Louis said, not opening the door any wider. “What is it?”

“The Queen requests their presence in the MacDonald Room as soon as possible,” the man said.

Louis nodded. “Thank you. I’ll let them know.” He shut the door and turned to Harry and Gemma. “I presume you heard that?”

They both nodded. The healthy colour that had returned to Harry’s face had vanished again. At the very least he was warm and dry, but he still looked so fragile. The paleness of his face made Louis feel almost as ill as Harry looked.

Gemma took Harry’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Shall we?” she said. “Together?”

Harry gave her a grateful smile. “Okay,” he said. “Together.”

Anne was already seated at a long table when Harry, Gemma, and Louis entered the room.

“Good, you’re here,” Anne said as they entered. “Come, sit. We have news.”

Harry obediently sat beside Anne, and Gemma sat on his other side. Louis stood just behind him, his eyes flicking over the other occupants of the room. A sturdy man dressed in black stood at the end of the table, most likely Anne’s bodyguard. A member of staff entered through a side door with a loaded tea tray. And a tall, thin man Louis didn’t recognise sat across the table from the royals, his hands folded in front of him.

Harry shook his head at the offer of tea and biscuits. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “Mother, this really isn’t the time – what have you learned.”

Anne glanced at the thin man. “Lord Anthony?”

The man sat up a bit straighter, unfolding his hands. “The girl – Marie, did you say her name was?” At Anne’s nod he continued. “Marie has been much more forthcoming than Nathan Sykes was. He told us very little, but Marie has told us the motive behind the attacks.”

“Which is?” Harry pressed.

Lord Anthony pressed the tips of his fingers together. His voice was smooth and flat as he said, “They want the royal succession to be amended so that gender is irrelevant in terms of order, and so Gemma would be next in line.”

“What?” It was Gemma who was on her feet, her face twisted with outrage. “They’re trying to kill my baby brother over this?”

Lord Anthony’s thin lips formed a sardonic smile. “I suppose they believe that if they eliminate him, then you’ll be next anyway,” he said. “And if they can force a change in law, they still get what they want.”

“I don’t understand.” Harry seemed stunned, his face pale and his eyes glassy. Louis forced himself to look away, returning his attention to the room at large, but it wasn’t easy. “I thought legislation was in progress to do that anyway.”

Anne winced. “There is,” she said, “but it’s slow.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “It’s common sense. Gems is no less qualified to rule than I am.”

“I dunno,” Gemma said, flopping back into her seat. “You’d make a pretty freaking amazing king. I’ve always thought so.”

“But-”

“I know, I know,” Gemma cut Harry off before he could finish arguing. She put on an affectedly low voice. “That’s not about gender, and besides, it’s the principle of the thing.” Her impression was remarkably good, and even Louis found himself chuckling. “You’re right, of course,” she continued in her own voice, “though that is also part and parcel of why you’d make an amazing king.”

“In any case,” Anne said, smiling as she redirected the conversation back to its original topic. “The reason it’s taking so long is largely because it involves rearranging the line of succession. If it was simply a matter of future children, it would be simple enough, but to make it apply to Gemma is… more complicated. As are the discussions relating to how it would apply to other similar situations involving inheritance of titles, property, and the like.” She sighed. “The problem with rearranging the succession of living people is that they have a vested interest in the proceedings.”

“Further,” Lord Anthony said, “it would be… unwise to seem like you were giving in to the demands of criminals.”

“Even if they’re right?” Harry asked.

Lord Anthony’s glare was withering. “Especially then,” he said. “Many people who do terrible things believe that they are doing the right thing.”

Anne cleared her throat. “Hopefully now that we have another of their personnel in custody we’ll be able to learn more about their operations. Then we can move to stop them.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way of knowing how long that will take?” Harry asked.

Anne shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But we’re making progress. Marie is cooperating.”

“I still just can’t believe she would do this.” Gemma traced a circle on the table. “It just doesn’t seem like her.”

“Well, she did.” Harry said. His lips were pressed so tightly together that they nearly disappeared.

Anne looked worried. “Harry, if this is too much… you don’t have to be here.”

Harry shook his head. “Being left in the dark would be worse,” he said. “I have to do this.” He looked up at Lord Anthony, his gaze steady. “So, what comes next?”

By the time they left the meeting, Harry’s hands were trembling. Louis followed him silently. He felt a bit helpless, without the slightest idea what to do or how to help him. He was sure Harry needed something, or someone, but he was equally sure he didn’t know what or who that was.

When he realised that Harry was heading for the car park, Louis stopped, laying a hand on Harry’s arm. Harry shrugged him off and kept walking.

“Where are you trying to go?”

Harry stopped, his hands clenching and flexing in turns. “I need to see Xander,” he said at last.

Louis remembered Xander, just. The friend from the first day. “If the goal is to change the succession, I’m sure your friend is in no danger.”

Harry’s laugh was harsh and slightly manic. “Your concern is touching,” he said, sounding as insincere as Louis had ever heard him. “But that’s not it.”

“What, then?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. When he removed it, a few locks stayed stuck out in random directions. “I need to talk to him,” he said. “He’ll calm me down. I can’t – I can’t think-”

Louis shook his head. “Too public,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t care.” Harry advanced on Louis. His eyes were wild, desperate. “I need him.”

“If he could come here-”

“He has work,” Harry said, shaking his head. “He can’t come all the way down here on the spur of the moment.”

“I can’t let you go.” Louis met Harry’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t something he said often, and he meant it even more infrequently. Harry didn’t seem to appreciate the sentiment, instead glaring daggers at him.

“You are unbelievable.”

Louis blinked. “Come again?”

“If he were a girl-”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a fucking homophobe!”

That was… not on the list of things he’d expected to hear. It caught him completely off guard, and for a moment he had no idea what to say or even think. A corner of his brain noted that it was the first time he’d heard Harry swear. Interesting. Also irrelevant.

“I don’t even know where to start with that one,” he said, struggling to pull himself back into professionality.

“Too close to the truth?” Harry spat.

“No,” Louis said. “Too far. Firstly, I’m gay. Secondly, I had no idea you were gay. And thirdly, I said no because it’s dangerous, not because of anything to do with what you like to do in your private life, which I do not care about and has nothing to do with me.”

Harry took a step back. “Wait – you didn’t – I thought you knew.”

“How the heck would I know that?” Louis asked, frustrated. “You’re not out – which, by the way, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I thought – after Xander – never mind.” He shook his head. “Well. Now you know, I suppose.”

“I suppose so.” The part of his brain that wasn’t in full professional mode was still reeling. “So are you and Xander-”

“We broke up,” Harry said before he could finish his sentence. “A few months ago. We’re still friends.”

“Ah.” This was none of Louis’ business. Completely unprofessional. He should butt out. Right now. He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sorry, I know this is hard, but you really can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Harry ran both hands through his hair this time, digging his fingernails into his scalp. “Fine,” he said. “Can I at least go see the kids tonight?”

Louis winced. He really didn’t want to say no, but he wasn’t sure that it was a good idea. Things were always riskier when emotion was running high, and he wasn’t sure if Nick had managed to arrange the additional guard yet. “Maybe,” he said at last. “We’ll see.”

Harry glared. “Which means no.”

“It means maybe,” Louis said. “It means we’ll see.”

“Fine,” Harry said again, spinning on his heel and heading back towards his apartments. Louis followed again.

“Is there anything I can do?” he ventured to ask as they walked.

The look Harry gave him could have stripped paint. “Why would I want your help?” he said, his voice so frigid Louis half expected to see his breath fog in the air. “You’ve done nothing but make my life a living hell since you arrived.”

Louis bit his lip. “I’m sorry about the hell,” he said quietly, “but at least the living part is something.”

Harry said nothing. Louis hadn’t really expected him to.

They had almost reached Harry’s apartments when Louis remembered himself. “Wait,” he said.

Harry’s hands clenched again, and the muscles in his back tensed under his shirt.

“What is it?” he said flatly. “What in the hell do you want?”

Louis winced again. “I have to sweep the apartment,” he said. “Whatever Marie did in there, whatever she left-”

“But Lord Anthony said she only dosed some of the food.”

“Just because she said it doesn’t mean it’s true,” Louis said. “It could be a bluff. It could be a decoy. It could be any number of things. I still have to make sure.”

The tension in Harry’s body didn’t change, but he nodded sharply. “Fine,” he said, and Louis breathed a sigh of relief that this wasn’t going to turn into another argument. His relief tripled when he spotted Gemma rounding the corner behind them, and thought a fervent thanks to whoever might have orchestrated this.

“There you are,” she said, striding down the hallway. “You ran off so quickly, and then I wanted to talk to mum, and by the time I got out you were gone.”

“I was about to start the sweep,” Louis said. “I can start with the living room so you two can hang out there.”

“That sounds perfect,” Gemma said, looping her arm through her brother’s. He looked slightly less pleased with the situation, but nodded his assent. Louis smiled.

“Excellent,” he said. “If you would stand back a bit, I’ll get started.”

“Stand back from what?” Gemma asked. Her query sounded more curious than annoyed, so Louis gave her a smile.

“Sometimes things explode,” he said. “I’ve seen bombs rigged to blow up when someone opened a door, an oven, a refrigerator; or when the light switched on, or the TV, or when the toilet flushed.”

“Is that why -” Harry stopped talking, but Louis glanced at him, a wry smile playing across his lips.

“Why I always turn on the TV for you? Why I check the oven before you use it? Why I flush the toilet before I let you into the bathroom?”

Harry’s cheeks were faintly flushed. “Something like that.” He refused to meet Louis’ eyes, staring steadfastly at the ground instead, his eyelashes dark against his face.

“Something like that,” Louis echoed back.

“Well, go ahead,” Gemma said, stepping back to lean against the far wall. She tugged on Harry’s elbow, and he followed silently. “We’ll wait.”

Louis opened the front door carefully. He didn’t really expect anything – they’d seen Marie coming out, after all – but it never hurt to be careful. Walking up and down the hallway and flicking all the lights on and off also revealed nothing. A glance back out the front door showed only a slightly bored Harry, Gemma talking quietly to him, so he stepped into the living room. He ran his hands over the cushions, turned the television on and off, fiddled with the channels and volume, and checked the light fixtures. When he was sure the room was clean, he closed the curtains and headed back to the front door.

“Living room’s clear,” he said. “You’re welcome to wait there while I keep sweeping.”

They came quietly, and Louis could hear them arguing over the remote as he left the room. He smiled, and continued his search.

When night rolled around and Harry once again pulled out the casual clothes he wore to the hospital, Louis didn’t have the heart to stop him. He should. He knew he should. But he also knew that Harry needed this, needed something that he couldn’t provide. Those kids could. So when Harry stood dressed and ready, his expression daring Louis to challenge him, Louis just opened the window.

“Shall we?”

It was kind of amusing to watch the expression on Harry’s face shift from stubbornness and anger to shock and then to confusion. He said nothing, though, and breezed by Louis to climb out the window. Louis followed in equal silence.

The drive to the hospital was uncomfortable, neither of them speaking but both waiting for the other to speak. Louis had no intention of being the first one to fold, but Harry seemed to be just as resolute. The silence felt almost oppressive, and every little noise that interrupted it felt too loud.

Ed sat at the front desk, but he only glanced up from whatever he was working on long enough to give a quick wave. The first human voice Louis had heard in nearly half an hour came from Zayn, who greeted them as soon as they walked into the ward.

“Hi guys,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Harry muttered. His voice sounded slightly rough. He coughed to clear his throat. “Where do you want me to start today?”

“Actually,” Zayn said, “first I want to introduce you to my new intern.”

“Are my ears burning?” A familiar voice carried down the hall as Louis looked up to see Liam walking towards them. Their eyes met for a moment, and Louis thought he saw Liam give him a twitch of a wink, but a moment later his eyes slid right past him to Harry, and he came to a complete stop. “Oh my gosh,” he said. “You’re – holy shit.” He covered his mouth with one hand. “I mean – I’m so sorry. I was just startled; I didn’t realise –”

Louis had to give him credit for his acting. Liam put on a perfect display of a flustered civilian. He looked like he was about to bow (or possibly kneel) when Zayn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I did warn you he might be coming,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I thought you were kidding!”

“Nope,” Harry said. He shrugged. “Surprise, I guess. But please, here I’m just Harry. None of this deferential stuff.”

“But I-”

“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was gentle, but firm. “Shake the nice man’s hand.”

“But – okay.” He held out a tentative hand. Harry took it and shook it warmly.

“How do you do?”

“Uh…well, thank you” Liam said. He turned to Louis. “And you, sir?”

Louis bit back a chuckle, seeing a sparkle of mirth carefully concealed behind Liam’s eyes. “Louis,” he said, shaking Liam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Liam is studying medicine at university,” Zayn said. “Hoping to go into paediatrics, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Liam said. “I’m taking this term off, though – family stuff. My uncle knows some people here, so he helped to set me up with this internship so I could get some experience and stay in practice.”

It was a good cover, Louis had to admit. He almost believed it himself, except that Liam hadn’t spoken to any of his uncles in the four years since he’d joined Nick’s team. The ‘uncle’ had probably been Nick, and imagining him as an uncle almost gave Louis a fit of giggles, which he had to quickly turn into coughing.

Zayn looked concerned. “Are you ill?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be around the kids if you are. Their immune systems are very weak from treatment.”

Louis carefully didn’t look at Liam as he shook his head. “Just a little parched,” he lied.

“Are you sure?” Zayn asked, frowning. “Even a cold can be devastating.”

“I’m sure,” Louis said. “Healthy as a horse. A glass of water and I’ll be fine.”

“Is there anything you need a hand with?” Harry asked.

Zayn gave Louis one last searching glance before turning to Harry. “I could use a hand changing Gavin’s dressing,” he said. “I wanted to show Liam how it’s done.”

“Pass me some gloves,” Harry said. “I’m your guy.”

The trip to the hospital seemed to help Harry relax, but it didn’t last. Harry nearly blew up at him when Louis insisted they get rid of all the food, not just what Marie had said she’d tampered with.

“Unless you want to have someone test it?” Louis said waspishly. “I thought poison tasters were a relic of the past, but what do I know?”

“It’s just wasteful!” Harry said. “To throw out that much?”

“And you would prefer to give potentially contaminated food to someone else?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Harry said. “You’re just being paranoid.”

“Are you really willing to take the chance?” Louis said. “Are you really willing to bet their life on it – not yours, mind, but theirs?”

He wasn’t. His mouth twisted with bitterness, but he gave in, and everything that wasn’t sealed was thrown out and replaced by Gemma.

Anne checked in each day with updates, but there wasn’t really much news to update. Marie was cooperating, but she simply didn’t know much.

“They’re good,” Anne said grimly, the third day after the attack. “Whoever is doing this – they’re very good. That’s the real problem here. Most of the meetings were in neutral spaces – coffee shops, parks, that sort of thing – and they must have used false names. The only locations she was able to give us, they seem to have abandoned. Probably as soon as she was captured, or perhaps earlier, if they prepared for that eventuality in advance. It’s just so frustrating.”

She was preaching to the choir on that point at least, as Harry seemed to grow more and more tense as time passed. Louis suspected that he felt helpless, and he couldn’t blame him. Their visits to the hospital grew more frequent; every other night, then every night.

A week after the attack, Anne’s first words as she walked through the door were, “There’s been a complication.”

“What kind of complication?” Harry asked. His voice was steady, but his hands trembled as he shut the door.

“The Horans’ party,” Anne said.

Harry frowned. “I thought they agreed to put that off. After… you know. Nathan.”

“They did,” Anne said. “But it’s a baby announcement. Lady Denise is pregnant, and she’s beginning to show. They have to have the announcement soon if they’re going to keep it a surprise.” She spread her hands. “I suppose they hoped that we’d be able to sort things out quickly, but…”

“When is it?” Harry asked.

“This Saturday.”

Saturday. Five days.

“It’s dangerous,” Louis said automatically.

“You sound like a broken record,” Harry told him, but his voice was more tired than annoyed. “I’m going.”

“I don’t think-”

“Louis.” Harry’s voice was soft, but his eyes were hard. “I’m not missing the announcement party for my godparents’ first grandchild.”

“Maura and Bobby have been an important part of Harry’s life,” Anne said. Louis turned to meet her eyes. “And Greg has been like an older brother to him. I understand your concerns, but I will not overrule him on this.”

“I see.” Louis’ mouth twisted. “In spite of the danger to… Lady Denise, was it?”

“That hardly seems likely,” Harry protested, but his brow was furrowed.

Louis shrugged. “It may be unlikely, but it’s a possibility. And it’s my job to account for every possibility.”

“Lady Denise is not the target,” Anne said, laying a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine.” She turned to Louis. “I recognise that it is risky,” she said, “but hiding under a rock for the rest of his life won’t help matters any. I’m hoping, Louis, that you will help us to make the event as safe as possible.”

Louis’ gaze was stony. “I’ve dropped clients for less than this.”

“I know,” Anne said. “And if you decide that this isn’t something you are willing to do, we will understand and make other arrangements. But we’re asking you – I’m asking you – to help us.”

Louis said nothing for a solid minute. He wanted to say no. He wanted to refuse to be involved with this – this idiocy. It was overdramatic, it was expensive, it was unnecessary. And it was dangerous.

But somehow, against his will, he found himself caring. He liked this idiot prince who risked his life and sacrificed sleep to sneak out in the middle of the night and visit kids with cancer. He liked this quiet man who chose not to keep staff, to do his own laundry and cooking. He liked Harry, and he didn’t want him to get hurt. And the best way to ensure that was if he was protecting him.

“You’re going to want to search the guests,” he said at last. “Or at least have metal detectors, if searches are too improper. A private venue, somewhere no one who isn’t invited can get in.”

“Does that mean you’re agreeing?” Harry asked, his lips twitching hopefully upward.

Louis couldn’t help but smile tiredly back. “Against my better judgement, yes,” he said.

Anne smiled warmly. “We really do appreciate it,” she said. “You will of course be involved in the security planning, as closely as you would like.”

“I would like,” Louis said. He glanced at Harry. “You might find it boring,” he warned. “Last chance to back out.”

Harry laughed. “I’ve been bored for the last three weeks,” he said. “This will be the most interesting thing to happen since I finished rewatching last year’s Bake Off!”

Harry tugged experimentally at the bottom of his bulletproof vest. Louis slapped his hand away.

“Stop doing that,” he said. “You’ll pull it out of position.”

“But it’s uncomfortable,” Harry complained. “It’s warm and awkward and-”

“You’re the one who wanted to go to this party,” Louis reminded him. “I’m just the one paid to keep you alive.”

To his surprise, Harry laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “And – thank you. For agreeing, I mean. It means a lot to me.”

Louis blinked. “Erm. You’re welcome?”

“I know you weren’t happy with some of the arrangements,” Harry said, “but knowing that you’re protecting me gives both mum and I a lot of reassurance.” Louis gave him a look of bewilderment, and Harry laughed again. “You can be a pain in the ass,” he said, “but you know what you’re doing. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Louis said after a moment. It seemed like the thing to say. “I’ll try to be worthy of that trust.”

Harry gave him a smile, dimples flashing. “I have no doubt you will.”

Louis had some doubts. The party was being held in a park, and while it would be closed off and the perimeter guarded, it was far too open and vulnerable for Louis’ tastes. And being around this many people while there was a threat was always risky, for everyone involved. He had nearly said no a dozen times, but something had always stopped him. He couldn’t help wondering, though, if this would be the day his luck finally ran out.

Louis was saved from having to come up with some way to respond by the arrival of a blond Irishman with a booming voice.

“Hello, Harry!” he called, crossing the perfectly manicured grass in long easy strides. Louis tensed beside Harry.

“It’s okay,” Harry said quietly. “It’s just Niall. He’s Greg’s brother, and one of my oldest friends.”

Louis relaxed only very slightly, still cataloguing every line of Niall’s clothes. Harry smiled as he pulled the other fellow into a tight hug. “It’s been a while, you big goof,” he said, running a hand through Niall’s hair.

Niall laughed. “Watch it,” he said, slapping the hand away. “Mum will kill us both if you mess up the styling.”

“I thought what I was doing was your version of styling,” Harry said with a grin. “And besides, she loves me too much to murder me.”

“Just me, then,” Niall said. “And you’d have to live with my death on your conscience.”

“Heaven forbid,” Harry deadpanned, and they both laughed again.

Louis couldn’t help smiling as he watched them. It was good to see Harry happy, even if it was outrageously dangerous. He wouldn’t have called it worth it, but at least some good was coming of it.

He scanned the area again. Guests were starting to arrive, but it was still fairly sparse. That wouldn’t be the case for long. Soon there would be several hundred people milling about, and Louis would have to keep an eye on all of them. He sighed slightly. But he’d signed up for this, after all.

An hour later, he had a splitting headache and a desperate desire to strangle the past him who had agreed to this. He was constantly on edge, tensing whenever anyone approached Harry and continuously scanning the crowd for anything that seemed out of place. He rubbed his temples as he stood behind Harry by a table filled with plates of tiny hors d’oeuvres. At the next table over, a towering cake was being cut into single servings. The announcement had gone over beautifully, with Greg and Denise cutting into the top layer to reveal the blue colouring inside. Their parents had promptly drowned them in embraces, and even Louis had paused in his scans for a moment to smile at the evident happiness of the family.

His stomach growled slightly, and he considered the spread on the table, trying to decide between a tiny cucumber sandwich and a smoked salmon canape. He had just decided to go with both when something made him look up.

He felt more than saw it happen. There was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a familiar shape, and then he had shoved Harry to the ground and was lying on top of him as the sound of gunshots cut through the air. Harry’s face shifted from annoyance to shock to fear in the span of a second, and the reaction of the other guests was similarly rapid and chaotic. Screams rang out, and suddenly everyone was moving, standing, trying to run in any direction. Louis raised his head for a moment, but couldn’t see anything. He turned back to a crouching Harry.

“Under the table,” he ordered. “Now!”

Harry obeyed instantly, crawling beneath the draping tablecloth. Louis followed. His brain felt like it was on fast forward, thoughts and plans unfolding at lightning speed. To the east was a large pond, to the south the open expanse of the park. To the north, however, there was some tree cover. It wasn’t much, but it was more than anything else.

He shoved Harry forward. “Crawl to the end of the tables,” he ordered. Harry obeyed wordlessly, and Louis followed close behind. They ducked under tablecloths and squeezed between table legs. Every movement seemed to take hours, though Louis’ watch told him that barely twenty seconds had passed since the first shots. He hadn’t heard more since they’d vanished under the table, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. He also wasn’t entirely sure he would have heard over the screaming.

They were nearly to the end of the line of tables when the one in front of them began to rock. A moment later it flipped, sending dishes of fruit crashing to the ground. Harry turned back to Louis, a wild look in his eyes.

“What do I do?” he asked.

Louis squeezed past him, glancing out from under the tablecloth. “We move fast,” he said, drawing his gun. “I’ll cover. Behind the table and back under.”

Harry nodded, and then Louis was ducking out from under the table, half standing as he scanned the crowd. They’d done the work of a wrecking crew, decorations strewn across the yard. People were streaming away in all directions, but the crowd was still thick.

There. He caught the familiar glint of light on metal and zeroed in on it. A young man, perhaps twenty-five, perhaps less, clutching a gun. His expression was cold as he scanned the crowd, but he did not fire. Thirty metres to the man’s right, a young woman in a staff uniform held another.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry’s feet disappear under the table, and he ducked back down to follow. “At least two attackers,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe more.” He didn’t have time to consider the matter further, because a moment later they reached the end of the tables. Louis peered out. The trees were at least seventy metres off, and there would be no cover at all as they crossed the open ground. There were a few scattered guests, but neither enough to obstruct their passage nor to obscure the shooters’ view. Louis turned back to Harry, his face hard.

“We’re going to run,” he said. “Directly for the trees. Keep your head down; it’s the most vulnerable. The vest will protect your torso. No matter what happens, you keep running. I’ll be right behind you.” Harry’s jaw was tight, but his eyes were clear as he nodded. “Go,” Louis said, and he was off, faster than Louis had expected.

Louis kept up easily despite the difference in their heights. He glanced back over his shoulder, locating the two shooters he’d seen earlier. He saw the exact moment when they spotted them, raising their guns and running in their direction. Louis slowed, raising his own gun and taking careful aim. He didn’t want to hit any bystanders by accident. He squeezed off a single shot, hitting the woman in the shoulder. She screamed and dropped her gun. At the same moment, he was hit by a feeling like a bowling ball smashing into his ribs. He stumbled and spun, immediately pinpointing the woman who’d shot him. Two quick shots in her direction and she was down, bleeding from wounds to her leg and arm.

Louis picked up the pace, breathing a silent thanks to whoever had invented bulletproof vests. They were almost to the trees, now, and then they would be relatively safe. If they could just make it to the street, they could lose themselves in the city.

He turned one last time, and saw the final gunman taking aim. Instinctively, he took a step to the side, placing himself between Harry and the shooter. He saw the trigger finger squeeze, and then -

Pain. Excruciating pain. This was no bowling ball, no colourful bruise in the morning; this was a hot poker in his side. He fell backwards, landing hard on his side, but he was up again before he could remember what he was running from, his body taking over the job when his brain was consumed with the knives of fire stabbing him over and over. There was no thought. There was only running.

It was only when they stumbled out onto the street that the fog began to clear. He glanced around and saw Harry emerging from the trees a few metres to his left. The sight of him was like dunking his head in cold water, and suddenly Louis could think again. Another glance around to take in their surroundings and then he was walking fast down the street.

“This way,” he said, motioning Harry to follow – then he winced, and switched arms.

Harry noticed, however. “Louis, you’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re bleeding! Let me-”

“It’s nothing!” Louis’ voice was sharp. “It doesn’t matter. We have to get you out of here. Now.”

“But-”

“No buts.” Louis pushed Harry. “Keep moving.”

A few streets over, Louis tugged Harry into a clothing store.

“What are we-”

“Disguises,” Louis replied, heading for a rack of hoodies. He rifled through them, grabbing a black one and a grey one off their hangers. “Please tell me you have cash.”

“I – yes, I – why?”

“Untraceable,” Louis said. “Give me some.”

Harry’s hands shook so badly he nearly dropped his wallet as he handed Louis several notes. Louis took them, stuffing all but a few into his pocket.

“Stay here and keep your head down,” he instructed, and then he was walking towards the tills, trying his best to act normal, like he wasn’t bleeding from a bullet wound.

“Afternoon, love,” he said, placing the hoodies on the counter. “Just these, thanks.”

“Thank you.” The saleslady smiled as she rang them up. “That’ll be £57.60.”

Louis handed her three £20 notes with a smile. “Keep the change,” he said, picking his purchases back up. “Come on, Frank,” he called to Harry, hoping he wouldn’t question it. “Let’s go.”

Harry followed him out of the store, carefully not looking at the saleslady. Outside, they walked for another minute or two before Louis pulled Harry down an alley and handed him one of the hoodies. Harry donned it quickly, but when Louis tried to pull on his own, his injury protested. Vigorously.

“Should’ve got a zip up,” he muttered, wondering how he was going to get the damn thing on.

“Do you need help?” Harry asked, his voice quiet.

Louis jumped slightly – he hadn’t meant Harry to hear, but gratefully handed the second pullover to Harry. Together, with Louis lifting his left arm with his right and Harry handling the hoodie, they managed to get it over his head.

“Are you sure-” Harry started to say, but Louis cut him off.

“I’ll be fine. We need to get moving.” He pushed past Harry before he could argue. Harry caught up with him a moment later. “Hood up, head down,” Louis said absently, scanning the road. The sight of a Tube station filled him with relief. “Come on,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time. Four minutes and a tenner later, they were on a train. Louis felt like he could collapse with relief. It was nearly empty given the time of day, and kept them moving and with only limited points of attack.

“I need to think,” Louis said, collapsing on a seat near the end of the train. Harry sat next to him. As Louis’ heartbeat and breathing slowly returned to normal, he realised that Harry had barely spoken through their entire escape. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Harry shrugged, not looking up from the floor. “As okay as can be expected,” he said. “I’m just worried about everyone we left behind.”

“You were the target,” Louis said. “They weren’t trying to hurt anyone else.”

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt anyone else,” Harry said. “Innocent people could have been hurt, or killed, and it’s all my-”

“It is not your fault,” Louis said, turning to face him. “You are not responsible for what other people do to you.”

Harry shrugged, not meeting Louis’ eyes. “I feel responsible.”

Louis’ heart hurt, and he wanted to comfort Harry, but Harry’s mention of the others had reminded him of something else. “We need to make contact,” he said. “Your mother and sister are probably worried sick. And we need a plan of action.”

Harry looked up at the mention of his family, a frantic look in his eyes. “They must be terrified,” he said. “We have to-”

“We will,” Louis said. “I think there’s a payphone at the next station. We can ring from there.” Harry still looked twitchy, his leg bouncing up and down, and Louis rested a gentle hand on his knee. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’re safe. We’ll get through this.”

Harry’s leg stilled under Louis touch. He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Louis repeated.

Harry gave him the smallest of smiles, so small it could barely be called a smile, but it was there. A moment later they pulled into the station and Harry stood, Louis’ hand falling from his knee. Louis stood too, his injury twinging as he moved. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, it was beginning to throb in earnest. Louis ignored it as best he could. He had work to do.

There was a payphone, and Louis fed change into it while Harry hovered beside him. “Stop attracting attention,” Louis said as he punched in Anne’s mobile number. He took a moment to be slightly star struck by the fact that he was dialling the Queen holy shit as the phone rang, snapping back into professionalism as it was answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

“This is Louis,” he said. “Are you safe?”

“Louis – what are you – is Harry-”

“Are you safe?” he repeated.

“Yes.” Anne sounded frazzled, which felt strange. Queens weren’t supposed to get frazzled. But then, they were only human, and her only son had just been shot at and then vanished, so she had a fairly good excuse. “Louis, where are you? Are you all right?”

“We’re both safe,” he said. “Mostly wondering where to go from here. I know you have some safe houses set up, but-”

“There’s no knowing if they’re compromised or not,” Anne finished for him. “It would be a gamble.”

“Everything’s a gamble at this point,” Louis muttered.

“It’s probably safer than the palace, though,” Anne said. “Fewer people. Unless you have any other ideas?”

“No, I-” Louis stopped as something occurred to him. “Actually, I have one.”

“What is it?”

“My flat.”

“Your-” Anne sounded startled. “No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Or telling, really.” He spoke quickly, urgently. “Almost no one knows where I live, not even Nick.” He paused for a moment, reconsidering. “Or at least, I never told Nick. He might know anyway. But no one connected to the palace. Just a few friends and family. It’s small, but it should be safe.”

Anne didn’t speak for a moment. “I would never ask it,” she said at last, “but if you’re willing, I would be grateful.”

“It’s a plan,” he said. “We’ll stay there until you tell us. Don’t ring until you’re ready – the less contact and trail the better. We’ll ring in two days if we haven’t heard.”

“But-” Anne cut herself off and sighed. “I’m sure you know best. Can I speak to him for a moment?”

Louis wordlessly offered the phone to Harry, who took it eagerly. He tried not to eavesdrop as they spoke, instead studying a poster taped to the wall. A minute later Harry tapped his shoulder, offering him the phone back. He took it.

“Louis?”

“Yes?”

“Take care of him for me.”

A lump formed in Louis’ throat and he swallowed. “I will.”

“Good.” A silence, and Louis thought she might have hung up, but then she spoke again. “Thank you.”

“It’s my job,” he said, startled. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do,” she said. “You’ve gone so far beyond what I could have asked.”

“That’s me,” Louis said, trying to make a joke. “Always overachieving.”

Anne didn’t laugh. “I truly appreciate it,” she said. “We’ll find these people soon. We have three more of theirs now, so we should be able to narrow in.”

“That’s excellent news,” Louis said. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Anne said. “Be careful.”

“We will.” He hung up and turned to Harry. “Let’s go.”

Harry objected strenuously when Louis broke into the car. He was still arguing as Louis worked to hotwire it, but at least he was doing it from the passenger seat, and quietly enough that no one outside could hear. Louis could even ignore him if he cared to. He didn’t, but he could have.

“This is illegal,” Harry was saying as Louis taped two wires together. “We could get in serious trouble. What if we get caught? What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves?”

“Is anyone paying attention to us?” Louis asked idly. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll reward whoever’s car this is for the loan. We need a car and we need it to be unable to be traced back to us. We’ll give it back.”

“But-”

Louis had finally got everything working, and the engine hummed to life, startling Harry into shutting up. “But what?” Louis asked as he pulled into the street, mostly to needle him.

Harry sighed. “I’m just not as used to this as you are.”

Louis was quiet for a moment. “I know,” he said at last. “And I’m sorry. In an ideal world, you’d never have had to be.”

“An ideal world it isn’t.”

“No kidding.” Louis made a left turn. He was driving carefully, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention. He made another turn as he calculated how far away from the flat to leave the car. “You’re going to make it better, though.”

The words surprised him as they passed his lips. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that. He believed it, though, and he couldn’t decide which was stranger – that he’d thought it or that he’d said it.

Harry was less impressed. “If I don’t get killed first,” he said.

Louis glanced at him for just a moment before returning his gaze to the road. “You won’t,” he promised.

As they climbed the stairs to the third floor it suddenly occurred to Louis to be self-conscious about his flat. It was small, far smaller than Harry’s rooms. In fact, the entire thing could probably fit in just the spare bedrooms of Harry’s apartments. It wasn’t likely to be particularly clean, either, especially since he’d left on fairly short notice.

“It’s not much,” he found himself saying as they walked down the hall, which was dimly lit and smelled faintly of boiled asparagus. “Not like what you’re used to, I’m afraid, but-”

“It’s safe,” Harry said. “That’s what matters. I can put up with a little discomfort.” He chuckled, though it sounded slightly strained. That probably had more to do with the getting shot at than the humble accommodations. “And I’m sure it’s fine. I don’t need luxury all the time, you know; I’m not completely spoilt.”

“No,” Louis said. “You’re not.” This prince was not a thing like he had expected. It had been a month, but Louis still wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“Besides,” Harry added, “I ought to know how ordinary people live.”

“So you stay properly grateful?”

Harry laughed. “That too, I suppose. But I was more thinking about how to make the most difference. Philanthropically.”

“I’m no poor case,” Louis said sharply.

“I know,” Harry said, quirking a smile. “Not at the rates we’re paying. But some people… well, it’s a miracle they get by every day, and they know it. Poverty, education, healthcare, bullying – the more I know, the more I can help.”

Louis studied him. “You are a strange prince,” he said. “That’s not a bad thing,” he quickly added, when Harry frowned. “You’re just…” He shrugged. “You always surprise me.”

They were both silent for a long moment. At last, Louis realised they’d been standing in front of his front door for a solid minute, and began digging for his keys. A moment later he pushed open the door and, after briefly scanning the room, waved Harry in.

“Wait here,” he said once he’d locked the door behind them, and went to sweep the rest of the flat.

He didn’t take too long, since no one should have known either where it was or that they were going there, but he checked the locks on all the windows and shut the curtains. Dark was preferable to dead, and they didn’t need any nosy neighbours noticing that the bloody Prince of Wales was in the flat across the street.

And speaking of bloody… “Right,” he said as he re-entered the living room. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“I don’t need anything,” Harry protested. “Really. You’re the one who’s injured.”

Louis waved a hand dismissively. “Later,” he said. “I already know your hands are cut. Is there anything else?”

Harry said nothing, but a slight, almost involuntary movement of his right arm drew Louis’ eyes to a dark spot on the sleeve.

“What happened there?” he asked, gesturing.

Harry sighed. “Broken plate,” he said. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Probably true,” Louis said. “But if you die of blood loss or infection, we’ll both feel really stupid, so let’s fix it up anyway.” He motioned for Harry to follow him into the small bathroom. “Come on.”

Harry followed meekly and allowed Louis to clean his cuts. The gash in his arm was large enough to be concerning, but the bleeding seemed to have largely stopped, so Louis contented himself with applying a layer of ointment and wrapping the wound tightly in gauze.

“Your turn,” Harry said as Louis tied off the last bandage. He gestured to Louis’ hoodie. “Off with it.”

Louis sighed. “You don’t have to stay.”

The look that Harry gave him suggested that this was a stupid notion. “I’ve helped out in the hospital for almost a year now,” he said. “I’m not going to faint at the sight of blood. Besides, if you couldn’t get that thing on without my help, I doubt you can get it off.”

He had a point. While Louis probably could have managed it, it would be slower and more painful. He sighed again. “Fine,” he said. “But let the record show that I tried.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just get over here.”

Getting the hoodie off was not enjoyable, and Louis’ eyes watered as he gritted his teeth against the pain. Harry apologized repeatedly, tugging it gently up Louis’ body and over his head. They both breathed a sigh of relief as the offending garment finally slipped over Louis’ wrists. There were three more layers to go, but at least they would be easier to remove.

Harry held up the hoodie. “Where should I…”

“Just chuck it in the bath,” Louis said, pointing. The motion made him wince, though he tried to conceal it. “I don’t need to see the damn thing ever again.”

That made Harry smile, just a bit, though the worry lines in his forehead remained constant. “I don’t know about the hoodie,” he said, “but I certainly hope you weren’t planning on wearing this shirt again. Those stains will be hard to remove.”

“Not to mention the lovely bullet hole,” Louis said, putting off looking down.

“Um.” Harry didn’t seem quite as used to this kind of humour as Louis was. Louis probably shouldn’t be quite this used to it. “And that, yeah.”

Louis pulled off the blazer without too much trouble, tossing it too into the bath. At last he could put it off no longer, and he glanced down.

A small, round hole marred the crisp whiteness of his shirt, but only a small amount of blood surrounded the hole itself. Starting about five centimetres below the hole, however, a dark crimson blob covered nearly half of the bottom quarter of the shirt.

“Is it…”

Louis shook his head. “It looks worse than it is,” he said. “The blood’s just had time to soak in.” He started to unbutton the shirt.

Harry coughed. “Do you need help?” he asked.

“Not with this,” Louis said. “The vest, though, I wouldn’t mind a hand with.”

Harry nodded, sitting silently on the edge of the bath as Louis peeled the shirt off. The blood had dried to his stomach, and peeling it off stung, but the shirt would be easier than the vest, which would be glued directly to the wound. Louis was not looking forward to that.

He slid the shirt off and adding it to the growing pile in the bath. Gritting his teeth, he unfastened the vest, tugging experimentally at the front where it was stuck to his skin. Tears sprung to his eyes, and for a moment he considered peeling it off slowly, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it up. Shutting his eyes, he counted three, two, one, then pulled.

A strangled half-scream burst from his throat, startling Harry into almost falling into the bath.

“Are you okay?” he asked, righting himself.

Louis shook his head, his eyes streaming. “Just get it off,” he grunted. “Over my head.”

Harry’s face was pale, but he nodded. His hands were gentle as he lifted the heavy vest over Louis’ head, setting it gently in the bath.

Louis heard the sharp intake of breath and wiped at his eyes, trying to clear them enough to see. His vision was still slightly blurry when he looked down to see the small, bloody hole just a few inches to the left of his belly button.

He let out a breath. “Not too bad.”

Harry gave him a look like a startled rabbit. “Are you mad? That qualifies as not too bad?”

Louis laughed, relief making him giddy. “I’ve had worse,” he said. “It’s shallow. The vest took the worst of the impact.”

“I thought it was supposed to be bulletproof.”

“Well, everything’s relative.” Louis shrugged, then quickly wished he hadn’t. “It all depends on the bullet, really. But ‘bullet resistant’ is probably more accurate. Just doesn’t sell as well.”

Harry stared at him. “Just how many times have you been shot through bulletproof vests?”

Louis laughed again. “I think this makes three times?” he said. “This isn’t even the worst one.” He reached for the flannel, but Harry beat him to it. Louis glanced up, surprised, and Harry met his gaze evenly.

“I can do it,” he said, wringing the excess water out of the flannel. “You’ve taken care of me for the past month. Now it’s my turn.”

He should have argued. He really should have. But he didn’t have the energy. He allowed Harry to help him to the floor, leaning back against the wall. His eyes slid closed as Harry sponged the blood from his skin with gentle hands. “Don’t try to pick out any fragments,” he remembered to say. “Safer to leave them.”

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, and then Louis was too distracted by excruciating pain to speak. He clenched his teeth, his fingernails digging into his palms, but it was all he could do not to scream. Dimly, he could hear Harry apologizing over and over.

And then it was over. Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing again as Harry pressed a pad of gauze to the wound, but the pain wasn’t even close to comparable.

“Thanks,” he said, as he helped Harry tie the bandage around himself. “I’m not sure I could have done that myself. Certainly not as well.”

Harry ducked his head slightly, a small smile playing about his lips. “Not such a useless fop of a prince after all.”

Louis reached out instinctively, ruffling Harry’s hair. “You are very useful,” he said. “Goof.”

Harry stood abruptly, and Louis’ head spun slightly as he looked up. “Do you have painkillers or something in here?” Harry asked, glancing around.

Louis’ vision steadied. “Yeah,” he said. “Cupboard above the sink. Green box on the third shelf. Take two.”

Harry retrieved it dutifully, shaking out two pills and then passing the box to Louis. Louis shook out two pills for himself, and after a moment’s thought added a third. He swallowed them dry, grimacing as they went down, then pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Harry was immediately at his side. Louis waved him off.

“I’m all right,” he said. “Just need to eat something. You should eat too.”

Of course, the problem with this was that Louis’ fridge held little that was still worthy of human consumption, and the cupboards held only a few bags of crisps and pretzels. He pulled out one of the bags, then went to the front door and tied a brightly coloured piece of ribbon around the outer handle. Harry watched in confusion.

“What was that?”

“You’ll see,” Louis said. “Now eat.”

Harry obeyed, picking at the crisps. He watched curiously as Louis sat down at the kitchen table with a scrap of paper and a pen.

“What’s that?” Harry asked around a mouthful of food.

Louis burst out laughing. “You’ve gone wild,” he teased. “What happened to your pretty boy manners?”

Okay, he was definitely going to blame the painkillers for that one.

“It’s a shopping list,” he added, before Harry could comment. “Got any requests?”

“A few,” Harry said. “But how are we getting this stuff? Are we going shopping?”

“Us, no,” Louis said. “My kid neighbour, yes.” He shot Harry a crooked smile. “Sometimes I’m too lazy to run to the shops when I run out of cereal. So I pay Jeremy to do it for me. He won’t think anything of it.”

Harry chuckled. “Your laziness has saved us both.”

Louis straightened in his chair. “Oi, if that’s going to be your attitude I won’t feed you. Ungrateful twat.”

“Well we can’t have that,” Harry said, his eyes dancing with mirth. “How about I feed you instead?”

Louis blinked. “Come again?”

Harry shrugged. “I like cooking,” he said. “Maybe you’ve noticed how I cook all our meals back home?”

“I seem to recall something like that,” Louis deadpanned. “It’s only been a month, though; it could be a coincidence.”

“It’s not,” Harry said, nudging Louis’ foot with his own. “I mean, if you want to cook, you’re welcome to, but if you’d rather…”

Louis smiled. “I’m a shit cook, to be honest,” he said. “I just about live on microwave dinners and salad.” Harry looked horrified, and Louis laughed. “I’m exaggerating,” he said. “And anyway, when I’m on assignment, meals are provided.”

“And a good thing, too!” Harry exclaimed. “How do you even-” He broke off, shaking his head. “So I’ll cook, then.”

“You’ll cook,” Louis agreed. He twirled the pen in one hand. “What should I put on the list, then, Master Chef?”

Between the two of them, they quickly assembled a reasonable shopping list. No sooner had they finished than there was a knock at the door. Louis motioned for Harry to stand behind the door, out of view of the hallway but still within Louis’ line of sight. As peered out the peephole, his right hand settled on his gun. It was almost certainly Jeremy, but he preferred safe to sorry.

It was Jeremy, and he was pleased and willing to pick up the items on the list. It was more than usual, but Louis promised to pay him extra, claiming a sprained ankle. Twenty minutes later, Jeremy was back with the food, and Harry quickly whipped up a dinner of beef chili. They ate off of faded and slightly chipped plates instead of the colourfully ornate dishes in Harry’s cupboards at the palace, and the chairs were hard wood that creaked rather than well-built and cushioned, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

It wasn’t that Louis couldn’t afford better – the flat might be small, but it was well-located and by no means cheap. His salary was more than generous, but growing up in a big family had often meant making things last, and he’d simply never felt the need to change. If it still worked, why replace it?

It wasn’t very late when Harry began yawning, but then, it had been a hell of a day.

“I’m ready for bed,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Where am I headed?”

Louis stood as well. “Bedroom’s just down the hall,” he said, motioning for Harry to follow him. “I can lend you something to sleep in, if you’d like.” He tossed a wry smile over his shoulder. “I’m assuming you didn’t pack a change of clothes.”

 “Funnily enough, I wasn’t anticipating this,” Harry said.

Louis said nothing as they entered the bedroom.  It was small and sparsely furnished with only a bed, a night table, and a dresser. Each item was plain but robust, serving Louis’ needs nicely. He crossed the room to the dresser, rummaging around briefly before pulling out a large t-shirt and some tracksuit bottoms he’d got when he’d broken his leg. They’d been big enough to fit over the cast; they ought to be big enough for Harry.

“Here,” he said, turning. “These ought to fit well enough.”

Harry said nothing, a small frown on his lips as he surveyed the room. Louis’ heart thumped. Harry hadn’t complained about the accommodations thus far, but perhaps that was about to change.

“There’s only one bed,” Harry said instead, and Louis almost laughed in relief.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said without hesitation.

“Don’t be silly,” Harry replied. “It’s your flat. I can sleep on the sofa or something.”

“Okay,” Louis said, rolling his eyes, “but first of all, you’re too tall for my sofa. And secondly, if you think I’m sleeping in the bedroom while you’re in the living room, you’ve forgotten how this works. If you’re on the sofa, I’ll just be sleeping on the living room floor.”

“I can sleep on the floor, then.”

Louis regarded him sceptically. “And just how much experience with sleeping on floors do you have?”

“I’ll be fine. A few nights won’t kill me.”

“No,” Louis said, “but they will make you groggy and grumpy. And if we’re to spend the next who knows how long cooped up in here, that isn’t ideal. The sum quality of sleep will be better if you take the bed.”

“I’m not spoilt.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Louis said. “Though you are, a little. But it’s not that. It’s just logical.”

Harry looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but he couldn’t find a compelling objection. Louis smiled. “I’ll go put fresh sheets on the bed.”

Harry gave in with a sigh, but insisted that they build a mattress of sorts out of blankets and cushions. Louis let him, because he knew it would make him feel better. When it was finished, Louis had to admit that it looked very comfortable.

“You could have a career as a designer or something,” he said. “I mean, if the whole royalty thing somehow doesn’t work out.”

He expected Harry to laugh, but he only frowned slightly, fiddling with a pillow. “Isn’t that playing into stereotypes a bit too much?”

Louis shrugged. “Stereotypes have to be accurate some of the time,” he said. “And really, intentionally avoiding a stereotype because it’s expected is just letting them hurt you another way.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I see your point.”

“Of course,” Louis said thoughtfully, “this is coming from someone who went the exact opposite direction and became someone who beats people up for a living.”

“You became a bodyguard because you’re gay?”

“No,” Louis said with a laugh. “Well, yes, I suppose, in a way. But not really.” He shrugged at Harry’s baffled expression. “I was sixteen when I came out, and some of my classmates bullied me. I started taking martial arts classes so I could defend myself. Nick – Mr. Grimshaw – came to one of the classes and thought I had potential, and the rest is history.”

Harry started to ask another question, but yawned instead. Louis laughed.

“Bathroom’s across the hall,” he said. “There should be spare toothbrushes in the cupboard, take your pick.”

“I won’t argue,” Harry said with a sleepy smile.

Louis watched him go, only realizing he was doing it when the bathroom door clicked shut. He shook his head, blinking hard. “Focus,” he muttered, and turned back to the dresser to find sleep clothes of his own.

*~*

Louis hadn’t accounted for the pain of his injury when he insisted on taking the floor. Despite a double dose of painkillers, his side twinged at the slightest movement. Even when he lay perfectly still, a dull throb kept him awake. He tried counting sheep, muscle relaxation, all the usual sleep techniques, but his mind just wouldn’t switch off.

And there was a lot to think about. It had been a hell of a day, though nothing he hadn’t done before. Louis had seen multiple assassination attempts, had fled into hiding with a principal, had done things that most normal people could never imagine. But then, he hadn’t been normal for quite some time. His life hadn’t been normal since he’d started working for Nick, nearly six years previously.

After he’d been recruited, martial arts had only been the beginning. He’d received intense training in marksmanship, first aid, bomb disposal, and more, and he’d worked at each new skill until he was the best. He’d risen quickly through the ranks to become one of the company’s top operatives, and though Nick frequently chastised him for mouthing off, he’d always made himself worth it.

This had been his life for six years, yet he was the one who couldn’t sleep. Harry’s breathing had long since settled into a low, even rhythm, occasionally punctuated by light, snuffling snores. Louis smiled as he listened. He was honestly fairly impressed with how Harry had held up. He’d clearly felt the strain of the situation, but he hadn’t folded under pressure. Louis had worked with plenty who had, even bodyguards who had panicked when things got bad. Harry had done what he needed to when he needed to, and done it well. He made a mental note to check in with him in the morning, though.

The white noise of Harry’s breathing slowly began to lull Louis into that fuzzy state between sleep and wakefulness. His thoughts became more scattered and less coherent as his limbs grew heavier.

Harry had surprised him in so many ways. From his work with the kids at the hospital, to his self-sufficiency and minimal reliance on staff, to his knowing the names of the staff and ordinary people. And then today, being so calm and collected in the midst of chaos. Well, perhaps not calm and collected, but he hadn’t let fear rule him either. He was so fascinating, this prince. So kind. So strong. So unexpected. Perhaps that was why Louis loved him.

As soon as the though entered his mind, Louis’ eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright. Which was a terrible course of action, as the pain in his side immediately flared to agonising life. He stifled a yelp, pressing a hand to his throbbing ribs as he gingerly lay back down. He listened for the sound of Harry’s breathing, trying to discern if he’d woken him, but he could barely hear over his heart pounding in his ears.

Calm down, he told himself. I’m just tired. It’s probably the painkillers. Things will look different in the morning.

But he couldn’t bring himself to believe any of it. The thought might have floated to the surface because of the combination of exhaustion and drugs, his inhibitions and his mental defences shattered, but it made a terrifying kind of sense. It explained why he kept wanting to make sure Harry was okay, to comfort him, to make him happy, when he had always insisted that wasn’t in his job description. It explained why he kept agreeing to things he never would have ordinarily. It explained – well, it explained a lot. No, the thought wasn’t caused by anything except the fact that it was true.

He couldn’t breathe. He pushed himself up, padding out of the room as quietly as he could manage. He collapsed against the hallway wall, his head in his hands as he tugged at his hair, willing anything to make sense. It didn’t. He couldn’t – not alone – it wasn’t –

Almost involuntarily he found himself pulling out his phone and selecting a number. He was about to hit call when he paused.

He shouldn’t. Calls could be traced, and anyway, the fewer people who knew about the situation, the better. But he couldn’t do this alone. He couldn’t. And Liam would be up anyway, at the hospital.

Louis hit call.

“Hello?”

Louis let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding at the sound of Liam’s familiar voice. “Liam,” he said, his voice hushed. “Thank God – I don’t know what to do. I can’t – It’s impossible – and I only just realised, but – holy shit, Li.”

“Slow down,” Liam said. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

Louis tried to breathe, tried to wrestle his frantic thoughts into some kind of order. “I’m in love with him.”

“With who?”

“Liam!”

“You’re in love with me?” There was laughter in Liam’s voice.

Louis hung up on him.

A moment later he called back.

“Yes?”

Louis could hear the smirk in Liam’s voice, but he needed him. “This is serious,” he said. “Stop laughing. I’m in love with him.”

“With-”

“With Harry.”

Silence.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

“What do I do?”

“I…” Liam seemed to have realised that this wasn’t funny at least. “I don’t know.”

Louis let out a breath, tilting his head back against the wall. “You’re no help at all.”

“Don’t be like that.” Liam hummed tunelessly as he thought, and Louis wondered how he was getting away with being on the phone when he was supposed to be working. “Does he know?”

“God, no.” Louis shivered. “I didn’t even know until ten minutes ago.”

“Okay.” Liam sighed. “You know this can’t – I mean, you’re not-”

“I know. But – just – shit, Li.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Liam coughed quietly. “What are you going to do, then?”

“You’re supposed to tell me that.”

“I can’t-” Liam sighed. “Lou… I don’t really think I’m qualified to advise on something like this.”

“You are hopelessly awkward in the romance department,” Louis teased.

“Shut up.” It was affectionate. “And anyway, knowing you, you’ll immediately turn around and do the exact opposite of whatever I tell you.”

“True.”

“But…” Liam didn’t speak for several long seconds, the silence heavy between them. The momentary spark of humour Louis had managed faded, replaced by a hollow ache in his chest. “I honestly think your best bet is to do nothing. To act normal. To wait it out ‘til the end of the assignment.”

“And then?”

“Walk away.” Liam’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry, Lou, but I can’t imagine it could possibly end well.”

Louis sighed. “You’re probably right,” he admitted.

“We always want what we can’t have,” Liam said quietly.

Louis hummed in agreement. “When this is done,” he said, “we’re going to the pub and we’re both going home with someone. Someone we can have.”

“Louis-”

“Promise me.”

Liam sighed, but Louis could tell he was smiling. “Okay. I promise.”

Louis smiled too, but it dropped away a moment later, the effort of maintaining it too much. “I should let you go,” he said. “I’m surprised Zayn hasn’t told you to get back to work yet.”

Liam laughed. “This is my first misdemeanour since I’ve been here,” he said. “I think he’ll let me get away with it.”

“You just have to be perfect at everything, don’t you?”

Liam laughed again. “Not everything,” he said. “But seriously, Louis, are you okay?”

“No.” Louis’ lips quirked up in a wry smile. “But I’ll manage. Somehow.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“You can’t change anything and you know it.”

He did know it, and his silence said as much. “If you need anything…”

“I’m okay,” Louis said, shaking his head. “Just moaning. I shouldn’t have even rung.”

“Louis-”

“I’ll figure something out.” He forced a laugh that he hoped sounded less painful than it felt. “I always do.”

“Be careful.” Liam’s voice was concerned. “You matter too, you know.”

Louis shrugged, though he knew Liam couldn’t see it. “Oh,” he said, “by the way – since I’m already calling you – Zayn should probably know that Harry won’t be able to come by for a while. Probably shouldn’t hear it from you, but I’m not sure he’d hear it from anyone else.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Liam promised. “You take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Louis said. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hit the end call button and dropped the phone in his lap. He sat there in the dark for a long time before he finally crawled back to his bed, and it was even longer before he finally fell into a restless sleep.

The next day sucked.

When he opened his eyes, he momentarily didn’t remember the previous night. He lay in the quiet stillness for a moment. Then he turned his head and saw Harry, still asleep in his bed, and it all came rushing back with a vengeance. He got up quickly and began digging through his wardrobe for something to wear.

Harry woke not long after, stretching with a cat-like fluidity. Louis wanted to scratch him behind the ears and make him purr. He also wanted to slap himself. Violently.

“Morning,” he said instead.

Harry smiled. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“I’ve had better,” Louis admitted. “My injury wasn’t exactly cooperative.”

Harry looked concerned. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken the bed,” he said.

Louis smiled, half real, half pained. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll manage. It’ll be better tonight.”

“Especially since tonight you’ll be in the bed.”

“Harry, you don’t need to-”

“You’re getting the bed.”

His chin was raised challengingly, and his eyes held a stubbornness that said arguing would be futile. Louis sighed. It would be good to sleep in a real bed again.

“Fine,” he said at last. “But remember that this was your idea when you’re tired and grumpy.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I’m not a baby,” he said. “I can handle it.”

Louis didn’t have the energy to argue.

Harry made them both breakfast, and Louis forced himself to eat it although everything tasted like cardboard. He chewed and swallowed almost mindlessly. If someone had put a plate of dirt in front of him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Harry spent the morning puttering around the kitchen, chatting idly about this and that. Louis couldn’t focus on the words, and just nodded from time to time. He could blame being on guard if Harry asked, but he knew the truth. He was jumpy and on edge, but it had nothing to do with any threat of danger. It had everything to do with his hyperawareness of Harry’s every movement, and the voices arguing inside his head.

Suddenly he realised Harry was sitting next to him, and by the expectant look on his face, he had asked Louis a question. “Sorry?” Louis asked, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. The process was not helped by Harry’s proximity. Very distracting, that.

Harry smiled timidly. “I was just saying, you know so much about me, why don’t you tell me a little about you?”

“Me?” Louis squeaked. “Oh, no, I’m not that interesting, really.”

“Oh, come on,” Harry cajoled. “We’ve got who knows how long cooped up in here together. We may as well get to know each other a little better.”

“Um.” His mind was completely blank. “I can’t think of anything to say.”

Harry laughed. “Just anything,” he said. “I dunno, what’s your favourite colour?”

“Green,” Louis said after a moment’s pause. “Like a light green. It makes me think of spring.”

“Favourite food?”

“Tacos. Bit of a guilty pleasure.”

“Favourite musician?”

“The Fray.”

“Mmm.” Harry smiled. “How about your family?”

“Who’s my favourite family?”

“No!” Harry was laughing. “Tell me about them. Do you have any brothers or sisters? Any pets?”

“No pets,” Louis said slowly. “Five sisters and a brother, all younger.”

“Seven children!” Harry exclaimed. “That must have been fun.”

“I suppose,” Louis said. “It could be annoying at times, though. Hard to get time to myself, and the bathrooms were always full. But we made do.”

“Tell me about them,” Harry said, resting his chin on his hand.

Louis looked down. His palms were sweating. He wasn’t used to being the centre of attention; he was used to being the shadow in the background, the silent listener or observer. He swallowed hard. “The youngest pair are only two,” he said, “so I haven’t seen much of them. I’ve been busy, and Doncaster is a bit of a trek from London.”

“You must miss them.”

Louis glanced up, surprised. “I don’t really know the baby twins well enough to miss them,” he said. “But the other girls, and my mum… yeah, sometimes.” He shrugged. “Part of adulthood, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “Where was I? The second pair of twins-”

“Two sets of twins?” Harry was grinning now. “A very busy house.”

Louis laughed. “I s’pose it’s easier than four pregnancies,” he said. “Anyway, they’re twelve, and a right handful but everyone loves them anyway. Then there’s Fizzy – Félicité – she’s fifteen. She’s into teen magazines, so all the info I came into this job with came from her.”

Harry groaned, covering his face. “How bad was it?”

Louis laughed. “I don’t know about bad,” he said. “But it does seem to have been pretty inaccurate. I had the picture of you as this wild, party boy, but that’s not you at all, is it?”

Harry was quiet for a moment. Louis frowned.

“Harry?”

“There was… a little while,” Harry said, speaking slowly, as if every word had to be dragged out of him. “I just… I wanted to forget, to get lost, to maybe…”

“Hey.” Louis rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”

“But I want to,” Harry said, looking up at him. “I’m not… opening up to people isn’t easy for me. But I trust you.”

There wasn’t really anything Louis could say to that.

“I realised I was gay about a week before I turned eighteen,” Harry began. He smiled a humourless smile. “Happy birthday, you’re a disgrace to your family name. I mean, I know you say there’s nothing to be ashamed of, and you’re right, but… it’s complicated. I felt like I was letting down… well, everyone.”

There was a tight knot in Louis’ stomach. Watching Harry… his eyes said that he was far away, reliving what seemed like some of the worst days of his life. Louis’ heart ached, and yet he couldn’t do anything for him. And he couldn’t look away.

Harry shook his head. “So that was rough. And then some friends threw me a party for my eighteenth – as you do, right – and I got pissed and told one of my best friends. And he told me I was disgusting.” That same, humourless smile. Louis wanted to track down whoever it was who had hurt Harry and make them regret it.

“So I kept drinking,” Harry said. “Woke up the next morning in the bath, fully dressed.”

A laugh caught in Louis’ throat, choked back on tears.

“My friend refused to have anything to do with me after that,” Harry said. “And – well. It sucked. The only time I could forget – forget him, forget me, forget everything – was when I was smashed. So I kept doing it. And I was, like, trying to… want girls. But I couldn’t, I wasn’t-”

“I don’t need the gory details, mate.” Louis’ voice was gentle. After a spirited internal argument, he rested a hand on Harry’s knee, squeezing gently. “Sounds like you had a rough go of it.”

Harry seemed to shake himself. “It was a difficult time,” he agreed. “After a month or so, Gemma sat me down and told me to pull myself together.” He smiled slightly, and it might have been small but at least this one was genuine. “I’m pretty sure Mum asked her to. She told me I was making the family look bad. Ironic considering that was what I’d been trying to avoid.” He shrugged. “I just started crying.”

“What?”

“I was hungover,” Harry said. “Or possibly drunk. One or the other. It was always one or the other back then.”

There was a moment of silence. “So you started crying,” Louis said at last. “What did Gemma do?”

“She asked me what was wrong,” he said. “And I told her. And she said…” He trailed off. “Well, she told me that it didn’t matter, that I was still her little brother, that it would be okay. She said exactly what I needed to hear.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure she also had my ex-friend arrested. Bit of a vicious streak, Gems.”

Louis laughed too. He could relate.

“Anyway,” Harry said. “I haven’t got more than tipsy since, but the media doesn’t forget. The public doesn’t forget. So I’m still that guy in the tabloids. And whenever I go out to the pub with some friends…”

“You’re ‘the Pickled Prince’ all over again,” Louis finished.

“Even if I stick to water the entire night.” Harry nodded.

They were both silent for a long minute. The air felt still and heavy around them.

At last, Louis coughed. “Well, I was going to say that my oldest sister Lottie was just accepted to the University of Manchester, but it doesn’t quite feel like an appropriate follower to that.”

Harry smiled faintly. “Bit of a leap,” he said. “Good for her, though. What’s she studying?”

“International relations,” Louis answered. Now that the serious mood had passed, he felt more and more nervous. “Bit complex for my tastes, but she seems to enjoy it.”

“Complex is understating it,” Harry said with a soft laugh. “But it’s important.”

“That’s right, you are international relations.” Louis shook his head. “Well, maybe you can hire her when she graduates.” He coughed. “Or not. I dunno. That might be weird.”

“For you or me?”

“Both. Either.” Suddenly everything was too much. He pushed himself to his feet. “I should, um…”

“Where are you going?”

“Um.” Words were hard. “Bathroom.” He headed for the hallway. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I never do.” There was a touch of amusement to the words, which was baffling, but Louis couldn’t be bothered to question it.

In the bathroom, he leaned against the sink, his eyes screwed shut. His head hurt, his chest hurt, everything hurt. “Stop it,” he ordered himself, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You have a job to do. So fucking do it.” He opened his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror. The person who looked back was unfamiliar, his face haggard and lined. He looked away, splashing cold water over himself.

He had to go back. He knew he did. He couldn’t leave Harry unprotected for too long. But the idea of walking back out the door and into the living room felt like going off to battle. Except he’d done that before. It wasn’t nearly as scary.

“Don’t be a baby,” he muttered and, pasting on a fragile smile, opened the door.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good to sleep in his own bed again. And it was much softer than the floor, even with the cushions. He felt more rested than he had in days.

Which was good, because they had a trip to make. It was time to check in with Anne and see how things were going on that end, and since Louis wasn’t about to leave Harry alone and unguarded in the flat, that meant they were both going out.

“Relax,” Harry said as Louis rejected yet another t-shirt as not nondescript enough. “I’ve been visiting the hospital for ages and I really don’t get recognized much. The hair seems to be the main thing.”

“Not recognized much and not recognized at all are different things,” Louis said, pulling out another shirt. “And you do those visits in the middle of the night. How many people do you even see? This is a Monday afternoon. There will be a lot more people than at midnight on a Wednesday.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that. After Louis finally found something satisfactory, he dithered for a moment about sunglasses or a face mask, but decided that would just make people pay more attention. Which was the opposite of the goal.

“Just keep your head down,” he instructed as they left the flat. “Be easier if you weren’t so tall, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or not,” Harry said as they descended the stairs.

Louis shrugged. “It would be easier,” he said. “But it’s not like I expect you to magically shrink a few inches for the next hour or so.”

They walked for about ten minutes before Louis decided they were far enough to make the call. He chose a phone box on a quiet side street, and sent Harry in first.

“She’ll be dying to hear from you,” he said. “Don’t give any locations, and don’t take too long. I’ll be outside.”

Harry nodded. Louis waited outside as he dialled, watching the streets. There were a few passersby, but it was quiet enough, and no one paid them any mind. Harry’s voice squeezed through the door of the phone box, no clear words but the tone soothingly familiar. Louis forced his attention away.

After a few minutes, Harry opened the door. “She wants to talk to you,” he said. He started to move out of the booth, but Louis shook his head.

“Stay,” he said. “It’s safer.”

“It’ll be tight,” Harry said, frowning doubtfully.

“I’m small,” Louis said. “And it’s only for a minute.”

Harry shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, squeezing himself into the back corner. Louis’ heart was pounding as he squashed in beside him. This was the part most likely to attract attention, but it wasn’t like he was going to have Harry sit outside.

Also, proximity. Hello. He forced his attention to the telephone.

“Yes?” he said.

“Louis.” Anne’s voice was collected and professional. “The three operatives taken into custody after the attack have been very… useful. We’ve been working with the police, and we’re planning to act tomorrow.”

“Act?”

“We have names. Addresses. The lot.” Anne’s voice grew hard. “We’ll move in, and we’ll arrest them. They won’t be trying this again. Or anything else.”

“Well.” Louis wasn’t sure what to say. “You work fast.”

“I don’t play games with my son’s life,” Anne said. “And anyone who does had better be prepared to lose.”

“Oh.” Louis swallowed. “Well, good luck.”

“I’ll ring you,” Anne said.

“Only if-”

“If it’s successful, I know,” Anne said. “I think they’ve finally overplayed their hand, though.”

“I hope you’re right.” He nodded. “If we don’t hear from you, we’ll ring again in two days.”

“All right,” Anne said. “I’ll let you go.”

“Bye.” He started to hang up, then changed his mind. “Good hunting.”

Anne laughed. “If all goes according to plan, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Their return to the flat was uneventful, to Louis’ relief, but no sooner had his stress dropped off than he realised that Harry’s had skyrocketed. He paced, jumping from one activity to another, leaving each half-completed. When he started rearranging the books on Louis’ shelves, Louis decided to step in.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Harry’s hands stilled for a moment before he continued rearranging with even more intensity. “You don’t know that.”

“They’ve got the most capable hands available on this one,” Louis said. “If anyone can do it, they can.”

“And if they can’t?”

“They can.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Harry.” Louis stepped closer, tugging the books from his hands. They were trembling, he realised. He set the books aside, taking one of Harry’s hands in both of his. “It’s going to be okay.”

“But-” Harry ran his free hand through his hair. Loose strands tumbled every which way. Louis forced his eyes away, back to Harry’s face. “What if someone gets hurt?” Harry’s voice was low and hoarse. “If someone gets hurt – if someone gets killed – and it’s my fault? I can’t-”

“It’s not your fault,” Louis said immediately. “You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t want anyone to get hurt. The only people at fault are the ones trying to hurt you.”

“But it’s because of me that they’re doing it,” Harry insisted. “If it wasn’t for me-”

“If it wasn’t for you, they’d find another reason to hurt people,” Louis said. “Or someone else would. Harry, the world is full of people who do bad things. Who want to hurt people, or just don’t care what happens to anyone in their way. You can’t control that; you can’t control them. You are not responsible for the actions of others.”

Harry said nothing for a long moment. “I feel responsible.”

Louis smiled, his eyes pricking with sudden tears. “I know,” he said. “I know. But you’re not. Don’t let them win. Don’t let them persuade you that you’re the monster. They don’t know you, but I do.”

As the silence stretched between them, Louis began to think that he might have overstepped. “I’m sorry,” he said, letting go of Harry’s hand and stepping back. “I shouldn’t-”

“No.” Harry was the one who caught Louis’ hand this time. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed to hear that.”

Louis looked down, his cheeks warm. “No problem.”

He wished Harry would let go of his hand. It was too warm, too soft, too comfortable. Too right.

And then he did let go and Louis immediately wished he hadn’t. He shook his head.

“Anyway, worrying won’t help. Distraction is better. What’s for dinner?”

Harry smiled slightly. “The way you treat me,” he said. “I’ll have you know that I’m a prince.”

“Then I’ll expect a meal fit for one.”

Harry laughed, and the knot that had tied itself around Louis’ lungs loosened.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry promised.

Waiting was hard. Louis knew this. He had done a lot of it, after all; waiting for something that might not happen; waiting for something that he couldn’t control; waiting with no idea what was going on, only that something was happening.

It sucked, but he was used to it. He was practically an expert.

Harry, on the other hand, was not.

He’d stopped blaming himself, at least, but from the moment they’d got up that morning he’d been filled with a restless energy. He’d finished all the tasks he’d started yesterday, baked several dozen cookies, and washed all the dishes. Louis had suggested that maybe he should lie down, and Harry had agreed, but as soon as he stopped moving, he started talking. And so it was that Harry lay sprawled across the bed, his head dangling off one end. Louis sat on the floor beside the bed, his eyes tracing along the patterns of the wallpaper, only half listening as Harry talked about the pressures of being a royal.

“That’s why Xander and I split up,” Harry said suddenly, and Louis jumped, suddenly paying much more attention in spite of himself. “I mean, he hated the hiding and the closet,” Harry continued. “He’d been out for almost a year, so returning to that was… hard for him. But it was the pressures of the position that really got to him, that pushed things over the edge. The constant attention. The guards and the media and all that. Random strangers coming up to me and asking for a picture when we’re just walking down the street.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could get rid of it all.”

“To make things easier on your next boyfriend?” 

The question slipped out before Louis could properly consider what he was saying, but to his surprise Harry just laughed.

“No,” he said, “mostly for me. It’s just exhausting sometimes, having to always be on, always be in public, even in my private life. Always having to worry about who might be watching, about what people would think.” He shook his head. “It’s funny, I never really realised it before Xander.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a bit of both.” There was silence for a moment. Louis picked at the seam of his jeans. “I suppose the reduced pressure would be nice for my boyfriend too, but I’d have to actually date someone for that to matter.”

Louis’ chest clenched slightly, but he tried to play it off. “Got anyone in mind?” he asked, throwing a teasing smile in Harry’s direction.

He expected it to be a joke. He expected Harry to laugh and say no. He didn’t expect Harry to be silent for just a beat too long. He didn’t expect the word through Harry’s lips to be, “Maybe.”

Louis couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt. Everything hurt. He shut his eyes, trying to shape his face into an expression that didn’t resemble dying. That pub night with Liam couldn’t come soon enough. The sooner he could drink himself into oblivion, the better. But that sort of thing was… frowned upon while on duty. And Louis would never risk Harry’s safety like that.

It was a long moment before Louis realised that Harry seemed to be expecting him to say something, though he couldn’t think what. Even if he could have, the sensation of a giant weight on his chest, slowly crushing him, made it impossible to form words.

“What about you?” Harry said eventually. “Anyone special in your life?”

Louis choked on air. Harry started to sit up as Louis coughed, but Louis waved him away. “I’m okay,” he managed. A lie. A dirty, dirty lie. He had never been less okay in his life. “Um, no, no one special in my life,” he continued, pointedly not looking at Harry. “I don’t really have time for… well, anything. I mean, I’ve been guarding you for a month. If I had a boyfriend he’d have to feel pretty abandoned. Probably would have dumped me by now.”

He could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, carving half-moon divots into his skin. Every word hurt, like they were made of knives. But he needed the reminder. He needed to remember why this was impossible. Why it would always be impossible.

“I dunno,” Harry said. “I suppose it depends on the situation, but I think if it’s worth it, if it’s real… you find a way.”

“Maybe,” Louis said, staring steadfastly at the wall, willing himself not to cry. “But maybe sometimes there just isn’t a way.”

Silence reigned again. At last, Harry sighed. “I guess I’m just really bad at this.”

“Bad at what?”

Harry scratched at his neck. “Flirting.”

What.

“What?”

“Flirting,” Harry repeated. “I don’t get much practice, what with being in the closet and all. And royal.”

“I’m sure plenty of girls flirt with you.” Louis was too dazed to make his usual comments about the closet. His head was spinning. Flirting, Harry was trying to flirt? With him? Was he serious? Was Louis dreaming?

Harry chuckled, a hint of nervousness threading through his voice. “I suppose that’s true,” he said. “And I even flirt back sometimes.”

Agony. Harry flirted with girls, flirting didn’t mean anything. It was just fun. Louis had done his share of flirting just for fun, but this just felt cruel. Not on Harry’s part, just… the universe was cruel. “See?” he said, unable to form anything more coherent.

“Yeah, but it’s different when you actually care.”

What.

“What?”

“Louis, I-” Harry stopped, shifting his position on the bed. Louis looked up at him, unable to keep his gaze away. “I overheard you on the phone the other night,” Harry said at last. “Not clearly, just bits and pieces, but – and then yesterday—”

Louis was on his feet and headed for the door before he even realised he was moving. He needed to get out. He needed space. This was impossible. Even if Harry – it was impossible.

But as he touched the door handle he remembered – he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave Harry unguarded, unprotected. Never mind that it would probably be safe, he couldn’t take the risk. His job was to account for even the most improbable.

So he couldn’t go, and he couldn’t stay, and he found himself frozen, one hand on the door but unable to move in either direction.

“Louis?”

The creaking of the bedsprings told Louis that Harry had stood, was presumably coming over. He couldn’t deal with this. He couldn’t. A hand touched his shoulder

“Are you-”

“Don’t touch me!”

It was supposed to be a shout – except it wasn’t, not really, because he couldn’t shout at Harry – but though his body shouted, his voice was hoarse and he couldn’t breathe, so it was more of a rasp. The hand disappeared.

“Please,” Louis managed, his eyes squeezed shut as he leaned against the door. “I can’t – you can’t – we can’t-”

“Can’t we?”

Louis almost laughed, though all he wanted to do was cry. “No.”

“Why not?”

He made it sound so simple. He was young and naïve and innocent and Louis loved him. And that was the problem.

“We just can’t,” he said.

“But-” Harry sighed. “Louis, will you please look at me?”

It was the last thing he wanted to do. It was also what he most wanted to do. Slowly, Louis turned, looking up into Harry’s face. Concern and nerves were written all over it, but he was still so beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, his voice approximating even remarkably well. “We can’t, it’s just – it’s impossible. It could never work.”

“You don’t think what I want – how I feel – that doesn’t factor in? You don’t think I get a say?”

He didn’t.

“It doesn’t matter,” Louis choked out. A single tear escaped his eye, and he dashed it away.

“Of course it matters,” Harry said, and Louis desperately wished he could be that young and optimistic again.

“Sometimes-” Louis’ voice broke, and he tried again. “Sometimes loving each other isn’t enough.”

Emotions flickered across Harry’s face, so many and so fast that Louis couldn’t even begin to read them. “Louis-”

He stepped closer, and Louis’ hands flashed up to grip his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. Harry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Louis,” he said again, and then stopped. And really, that one word managed to convey everything he needed to say.

Louis wanted to pull him close, to be wrapped up in his arms. He wanted to push him away, to create more distance between them so that maybe he could finally breathe. He wanted to hold him, wanted to slap him, wanted to run away, wanted to stay forever. He wanted so many things, most of them contradictory. There were so many shoulds, so many wants, so many can’ts.

And then, so suddenly that Louis could swear he heard it snap, his willpower gave way and he yanked Harry forward and kissed him.

It was a terrible kiss. Their teeth collided painfully as Harry stumbled against him, and then he was too startled to respond or even move. Tears had begun to spill down Louis’ cheeks in earnest, and his breathing was ragged. But every single nerve ending in his body felt lit up with pleasure.

And then Harry snapped out of his shock. He slid his hands around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer until they were flush against each other. His lips pressed eagerly against Louis’ and Louis gasped, a shiver running down his spine. One hand found its way into Harry’s hair, twisting and tugging it, anything to be closer. The other slid around Harry’s back, fingernails scrabbling at the thin material of his shirt – Louis’ shirt, his brain reminded him, Harry was wearing his clothes, because – and then reality began to push its way back into his head. They couldn’t do this – he had to stop. He couldn’t stop.

“Please,” Louis found himself whimpering. “I can’t – we can’t – we shouldn’t-”

Harry only kissed him harder, until Louis had forgotten how to form words, had forgotten why he would ever want to, had forgotten everything except Harry Harry Harry.

Dimly, Louis realised that he was pressed up against the door. The hard wood was uncomfortable against his back, but he would gladly have lain on broken glass if it meant he got to keep kissing Harry. He had never felt more, never been more, and yet he still wanted more, always more, always Harry.

They both seemed to remember the existence of the bed at the same moment, Harry pulling him towards it as Louis pushed him. They fell clumsily onto the blankets, laughing against each other’s lips as they moved awkwardly, neither wanting to separate long enough to move in a more logical or orderly fashion. Louis felt like his heart was going to explode. Maybe everything was going to explode. He pressed Harry down into the pillows until it seemed like the bed would forever remember the shape of his body. Louis knew he always would.

When the phone rang, they both jumped. Louis reached for his pocket instinctively, but Harry caught his hand and pulled him back, licking into Louis’ mouth in a way that made the entire world vanish. At least until the next ring, the vibration of the phone annoying and distracting against Louis’ thigh. He pulled it out, intending to toss it aside, but his eyes caught the name on the screen.

Queen Anne what is my life

He sat up, dodging Harry’s reaching hands. “It’s your mum.”

Harry’s arms dropped back to the bed. “My mum?”

“Give me a second.” Louis accepted the call and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Louis? It’s Anne.”

“You have news?” He desperately hoped he didn’t sound as… debauched as he felt.

“Yes,” Anne said. “The raid was successful. We believe we have all of the major players of the organisation in custody. Anyone left should be unable to do much on their own, and we may be able to find most of them with the information we seized.”

“That’s great news,” Louis said, though a lump was forming in his throat. Of course it was good. Harry would be safe; that was what really mattered. But if they returned to the palace, returned to normal… Harry’s normal life didn’t include him.

It’s for the best, he reminded himself. It could never work. But he wanted it to work. And for a few short, incredible moments, he’d believed that it could.

“It went better than we could have hoped,” Anne was saying on the other end of the line. “But in any case, I think the danger is past. And I’m ready to see my son again!” She laughed, and Louis tried to laugh as well, but he couldn’t manage anything more than a weak chuckle.

“I’ll have him home before curfew,” he told her. “See you in a bit.”

“Goodbye. Give Harry my love.”

“I’ll do that,” Louis promised. The line went dead, and Louis slowly lowered the phone. He stared at the screen until it went dark, but he didn’t see it. He didn’t see anything.

A gentle tugging pulled him back to the present as Harry pulled the phone from his hand, laying it aside on the bed. “Are you okay?” Harry asked.

Louis couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly okay.

“Your mother says the raid was successful,” he said instead. “She’s eager to see you.” He tried for a smile. “I think she missed you.”

“I missed her too,” Harry said. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“No,” Louis said. “I didn’t.”

The silence was heavy. Louis could feel it pressing down like a blanket, suffocating him. At last he forced himself to his feet.

“Well, shall we?”

Harry frowned. “Louis…”

He couldn’t do this right now. He couldn’t have this conversation. He forced a smile to his face, and injected a playful tone into his voice. “I thought you couldn’t wait to see your family.”

Harry studied him, still frowning, but at last he stood. “All right,” he said. “How are we getting there?”

“Taxi,” Louis said after a moment’s thought. “Guess you’ll need to put your common clothes back on.” He started for the door. “I’ll let you get changed.”

“You know you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” Louis interrupted. “I have to gather up some things.” Like his composure. Or his wits.

As soon as he closed the door behind him he sagged, his body and limbs suddenly too heavy to support. He stumbled across to the bathroom, leaning against the counter. His arms trembled with the effort of holding himself up. After a moment he raised his head to look in the mirror, meeting eyes that were red and slightly bloodshot.

“Pull yourself together,” he whispered. “Idiot.”

His gaze slid to his mouth, pink and puffy from – he cut the thought off at the knees, but his fingers rose to trace the curve of his lips. They were sensitive, tingling under his touch.

“Forget about it,” he told himself forcefully. He turned on the tap, running icy cold water over a flannel until his hand started to feel numb. He lifted the cloth to his face and wiped at his swollen eyes and lips, as if by removing the evidence he could remove the memories, somehow wipe them from his mind as he wiped the water from his face.

He couldn’t remove the memories, of course, could never wipe away the memories.

He would just have to pretend.

The journey to the palace was absolutely silent. Louis could feel the heat coming off of Harry, could feel the way the seat gave under him, but he refused to look at him or even speak, pretending to be absorbed in watching for threats out the window as he worked to bury everything under a layer of numbness.

Anne and Gemma met them as they arrived, barely waiting for Harry to climb out of the car before pulling him into a tight hug. Harry laughed as he hugged them back.

“All right, all right, let me breathe,” he said. “I was only gone three days.”

“You’re an idiot,” Gemma said affectionately, poking him in the ribs.

“You love me,” he replied with a wide smile.

Louis looked away, letting them have their reunion in peace as he scanned their surroundings. He didn’t expect to see anything, but at least it gave him something to do. Something to distract him.

“We should go inside,” Anne said at last. “We have a lot to tell you.”

Harry’s face shifted almost imperceptibly before he froze it back in a smile. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sure you must.”

Gemma appeared to be no more fooled than Louis; either that or she just knew Harry well enough to predict his reactions. She slipped her hand into one of Harry’s giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back, giving her a grateful smile as they walked inside.

Louis was grateful for her care, and also wildly jealous. He forced both emotions back down, compressing them into a small ball that felt lodged in the centre of his chest.

Before they were debriefed, Harry and Louis both had their injuries seen to. The doctor winced sympathetically when she saw Louis’ wound, but he just shrugged. He barely flinched as she cleaned and re-bandaged it. Harry’s cut was also cleaned and re-bandaged.

“Did you take care of the wounds yourself?” she asked as she washed her hands. “You did very well.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Louis told her.

Harry snorted from his seat on the other side of the room.

There was no laughter when they entered the MacDonald Room. Louis quickly summarised their escape from the disastrous party and subsequent three days in hiding. Then it was Lord Anthony’s turn to describe the raid.

Twenty-eight people were arrested at their headquarters, he told them, and another eleven people had been arrested with the help of intelligence collected in the raid. Eight of the organisation and five police officers were injured in the raid, but all were expected to make a full recovery. Only one of the criminals had been killed.

Harry bowed his head when he heard that. “Send my condolences to the family.”

Lord Anthony looked at him sharply. “He was part of an organisation that attempted to assassinate you,” he said. “Twice.”

“I never wanted him dead,” Harry replied. “That’s the difference between us.” He glanced quickly at Louis, then away.

“I’m not sure how his family would feel about it,” Anne said quietly. “It might feel like salt in their wounds.”

“Flowers, then,” Harry said. “Anonymously if you must, but regardless of what he did, his death deserves to be mourned.”

Lord Anthony continued to look like someone had forced him to change a particularly stinky nappy, but the smile on Anne’s face said that she was proud.

The final topic of the meeting was Harry’s future protection.

“Now that we’ve dealt with this threat, we’ll be able to return to using the royal bodyguards to protect Harry,” Anne said. Louis tried not to wince. “I would appreciate it, however, if you would stay on until tomorrow, as we finish rounding up the last of the members of this organisation and arrange the new detail.”

Agony. Ecstasy. They were one and the same.

Louis cleared his throat, slipping into professional mode. “I am at your disposal for as long as you require,” he said. “The contract was open-ended. One more day will be no problem.”

Anne smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I cannot say enough how grateful we are for your service these past weeks.”

Louis fought back the heat rising in his cheeks. “My pleasure,” was all he said.

When they were set free at last, Harry made a beeline for his rooms. “I’ve missed it here,” he said as he unlocked the door. He stepped inside with a sigh. “It’s good to be home.”

Louis said nothing.

In the living room, Louis took his customary position in the corner of the room as Harry collapsed on the sofa. After a moment, Harry lifted his head, smiling at Louis.

“Come sit,” he said, patting the seat beside him.

Louis shook his head. “No, thank you; I’m fine here.”

Harry’s smile faltered slightly. “Is everything all right?”

No. “Yes,” Louis said, smiling back at Harry. “Why shouldn’t it be?” Nothing was all right. Even forcing that small smile made his chest hurt.

“You just seem…” Harry trailed off, gesturing inarticulately.

“Well, I’m okay.”

Harry sighed. “It’s safe, you know,” he said. “I’m not in danger anymore. You don’t have to protect me.”

He would always need to protect Harry. Not that he could say that. “Until the assignment is terminated, I’m still on duty,” he said instead. “It would be unfortunate if I let down my guard now and something were to happen.”

Harry’s smile took on a dangerously flirtatious gleam. “You didn’t seem to be too worried about that earlier today.”

Louis swallowed hard. “That was… a mistake,” he said, the words bitter acid on his tongue. “A momentary lapse. It won’t happen again.” It couldn’t happen again.

For just a moment, Harry’s face fell, and Louis wanted to go to him, to comfort him and tell him that it was all going to be okay.

He couldn’t.

Then Harry’s face closed off, like a shutter going down, and somehow that hurt almost worse. “I see,” Harry said, and his voice was ice water in Louis’ veins. He wanted to say something, but what? What could he possibly say that could make this better?

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

Harry stood, his movements quick and tense as he paced before the sofa. “I don’t understand,” he said, his voice carefully bland.

Louis struggled to speak. “This-” he gestured inarticulately “-won’t happen.”

Harry moved towards him. “Louis-”

“You’re my assignment,” Louis said, and Harry jerked back like he’d been struck. Louis closed his eyes. “You’ll never be anything more.”

Harry didn’t move for a long second. “Oh,” was all he said when he finally spoke. He started to walk towards the door, then changed his mind and sank onto the sofa, almost seeming to collapse. After a moment, he lifted his head and switched on the television. Louis didn’t recognise the show Harry navigated to; his eyes wouldn’t focus on the screen, and the buzzing that filled his head drowned out the sound. He blinked back tears, and forced himself to stay on guard.

“If you can’t keep him safe, what fucking good are you?” he muttered to himself. He didn’t have an answer.

It was two in the morning, and Louis couldn’t sleep.

The bed was comfortable enough, the temperature perfect, his wound didn’t hurt, but as he lay on his back, he felt as wide awake as if it were midday. He heaved a sigh and rolled over, as though the position was the problem.

The position wasn’t the problem. His racing thoughts were the problem. Thoughts like, What happens next, and, Is there any way to not hurt him? Thoughts like, I don’t want to leave him, and, I don’t know what to do. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, each rhythmic thump feeling like a punch in the gut. He ached all over when he thought about what would happen in the morning. What would have to happen.

He would leave. That was his job, to leave when he was no longer needed. But what about what he needed? “Don’t be stupid,” he whispered. “You don’t need-”

But the words stuck in his throat.

Need or not, the thought of leaving hurt worse than getting shot ever had. And Louis had been shot a lot.

Maybe that was why it hurt more. He was used to being shot. What he wasn’t used to was wanting to stay with someone, anyone, caring about them enough to want to be around them.

But then, the thought of staying was almost worse. Staying, when they could never have anything, never be anything. It was impossible. He was nobody. Worse, he was Harry’s bodyguard. That could never be a healthy relationship.

But that kiss…

He closed his eyes, feeling salt tears beading in the corners as he allowed himself to remember it for just a moment, before he shut the memory down. It had been wonderful and amazing, but it couldn’t happen. It couldn’t.

A quiet whimper pulled him from his own ruminations. A shuffle of sheets, then another whimper. Louis sat up, wiping the dampness from his eyes.

“Please,” Harry whispered, just barely loud enough for Louis to hear. “Please don’t – no – don’t-”

A nightmare. Louis blew out a breath as he swung his feet out of his bed, padding noiselessly across the thick carpets to kneel beside Harry’s bed. He knew how to handle this demon, at least.

“Harry!” he said, touching his shoulder. “Harry, love, wake up.” He winced at the name – it had just slipped out – and shook him gently, rather than speak again.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, the terror of the dream still lingering for a moment before it faded away, replaced with warmth and relief.

Louis swallowed hard. “It wasn’t real,” he said. “It was just a dream.”

Sorrow suddenly clouded Harry’s eyes, and he looked away.

Louis frowned, confused. “Are you all right?”

“Do you care?”

“Yes.” The answer was out before he could think about it, but it was the truth. Harry glanced at him, a hint of surprise in his expression. Now it was Louis’ turn to look away. “I do care about you,” he said quietly. “I want you to be happy.”

Silence.

“I was dreaming about you,” Harry said at last. “You were leaving me. You were telling me I meant nothing to you, that I was just another job.” He shrugged. “It hurts because it’s true.”

“It’s not-” Louis stopped. This couldn’t possibly go anywhere good.

Harry looked at him with an expression that was part misery, part anger, and part hope, and it made Louis’ heart ache. “It’s not what?” Harry asked.

Louis couldn’t speak. Even if he could, what would he say? It didn’t matter what either of them wanted; it couldn’t happen, plain and simple. Watching the unhappiness in Harry’s eyes, though, was unbearable. Louis couldn’t give him what he wanted. But maybe the truth could be second best.

“You’re not just another job,” Louis said at last. “You were at first, and an annoying one at that.” He flashed a weak smile to let Harry know he was teasing. “But you’re so… you weren’t what I expected. Weren’t like anyone I’ve ever worked with. You’re kind, generous, thoughtful… you want to help people, really make a difference in their lives. You don’t crave the attention of the public, but you can’t escape it. You’re shy, even timid sometimes, for all that you can play the pompous prince when you have to. But in private…” Louis shook his head. “Harry and Prince Harry are two very different people. And I’ll admit I don’t know Prince Harry very well. But I think I’ve got to know Harry over the past month, and I…”

Louis trailed off, unwilling to say the words. “You what?” Harry asked.

Louis bit his lip. He couldn’t say it. There were some truths that just couldn’t be spoken. “Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. He stood to go back to his bed.

“Louis.” Harry sat up in bed, catching him by the wrist. “You weren’t what I expected either.”

“I was worse, wasn’t I?” Louis tried to laugh, because the alternative was to cry.

Harry didn’t laugh. “I thought you were stubborn, self-centred, and frankly a pain in the ass.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Stop that!” Harry’s grip tightened. “You’re not – you’re so much more than I could have imagined. You treat everyone equally, regardless of their background.”

“You mean I’m a dick to everyone, regardless of-”

“Would you stop interrupting?”

Louis’ throat was tight. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, his eyes watering.

“You take your work seriously,” Harry continued after a moment, “and you’re damned good at it. You’re willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it’s hard. But you’re also willing to bend the rules given a good reason, like when you let me visit with the kids. And you’re so good with the kids too; you’re so kind and gentle and friendly-”

“I grew up with four little sisters,” Louis said, smiling automatically at the thought of them.

Harry smiled too, his thumb rubbing against the back of Louis’ wrist. “I remember,” he said. “But even that doesn’t explain why you always go above and beyond the call of duty, far more than anyone would ever ask. When I’m with you, I know I’m safe, because I know you’ve thought of everything, and that you’re ready for it. I know that no matter what happens, you’ll be there to protect me.”

“I would die before I would let anything happen to you.” Again, the words just slipped out, but he meant them, his voice hard and cold at the thought of anyone hurting Harry.

Harry rose to his knees, resting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. Louis’ skin tingled under his touch, but he didn’t pull away, swaying instinctively closer. He could feel Harry’s warm breath on his mouth, tantalizing and delicious and just out of reach.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Louis swallowed hard. “We can’t,” he said, his voice cracking. But he didn’t, he couldn’t pull away.

Harry shook his head. “That’s not what I was asking,” he said. “Do you want this?”

Louis wanted this. He wanted it so badly it hurt. “Yes,” he breathed, “God, yes, but Harry, we can’t-”

“We can,” Harry said, his voice solid with certainty, and then he was kissing Louis, and it was perfect in every way, heady and electric and perfect. His mouth tasted like lemons and lightning and Louis wanted more, needed more. He pulled Harry closer, digging his fingers into his sides, and Harry groaned against Louis’ lips. His fingers scratched roughly against Louis’ neck, and it was Louis’ turn to let out a breathy moan.

“Off,” he said deliriously, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of Harry’s silk pyjama shirt. “Get this off now, or I swear – for fuck’s sake, who puts buttons on a fucking pyjama shirt-”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” Harry ordered, the gravel in his voice sending shivers down Louis’ spine and rendering him helpless to do anything but obey.

Moments later, Harry’s shirt fell open, and Louis pushed it off his shoulders. They separated just long enough for Harry to tug Louis’ own t-shirt over his head, and then Louis surged forward, sending them both tumbling onto the bed, and they were kissing again, almost more intensely as if to make up for the lost milliseconds. Harry’s skin burned against Louis', every point of contact a firestorm, every movement an explosion. Louis wanted to trace every inch of Harry’s body, to map it until he could see it on the back of his eyelids and touch it until the smell of Harry’s apple shampoo and Louis’ cinnamon aftershave melded together.

He bit down on Harry’s bottom lip, revelling in the delicious keening sound it elicited. A moment later Harry rolled them both over, pressing Louis into blankets made of feathery softness, but Louis could barely feel them; he could only feel Harry on his lips and his tongue and his chest and everywhere. Gentle fingertips brushed at the waistband of his trousers and Louis had never wanted anything so much as he did in that moment.

A twinge of pain cut momentarily through the haze in Louis’ brain. Distracted as he was it took a moment to place it. His left side. The gunshot wound. From protecting Harry. Because he was Harry’s bodyguard.

He forced himself to pull away, but Harry’s mouth chased him backwards, and he tasted so good it was impossible to stop him. But when Harry’s hands began to tug his trousers downwards, Louis grabbed his hand.

“Harry,” he managed. “We can’t.”

“We can,” Harry breathed.

Louis shook his head. “Not what I meant,” Louis said. “I mean – we can’t right now. There are – we need to figure things out first. And stuff.” Coherence was not a skill he possessed at that particular moment.

Harry stared down at him for a moment, then sighed. He rolled off of Louis, flopping onto the pillows beside him. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“I know,” Harry said. “That’s why I hate it.” He propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Louis.

Louis fiddled with a pillowcase. “So as of tomorrow I will no longer be your official bodyguard,” he said. “Under normal circumstances, we’d probably never see each other again.”

“But that’s not going to happen this time.”

Louis smiled in spite of himself, his eyes fixed on the corner of the pillow. “I hope not,” he admitted. “But what do you want to do instead? My job can keep me pretty busy.”

“You mentioned,” Harry said, nodding. He tapped his chin with a long finger. “What if you hired on as my regular bodyguard?”

Louis was already shaking his head before Harry finished. “Absolutely not.”

His words came out harsher than he meant them to, and Harry’s face fell slightly. His shoulders hunched in, trying to make himself smaller. It reminded Louis of the first day, back in the conference room, and it made Louis’ chest hurt.

“No, Harry, no,” he said, his voice softer, his hands running along Harry’s shoulders. He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s not you, I swear. I would like nothing better than to spend as much time with you as possible. But it’s just – well, it’s not a good idea. I mean, first of all, you’d be my boss, and boss-employee relationships are… messy. And of questionable morality.”

Harry nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said reluctantly. “But what about – Gemma, then, maybe?”

Louis shook his head. “What if there was a situation like what happened at the party,” he said, “where you were both in danger? My duty would be to Gemma, but I’d want – I’d need to protect you. And as a result, I’d do worse at both. I might even interfere with whoever was protecting you. And if something happened as a result-”

He stopped, the words getting stuck in his throat.

“You’d lose your perfect record?” Harry said. It was supposed to be a joke, something to break the painful tension in the air, but it wasn’t particularly funny. Louis smiled anyway, more out of instinct than anything else, but it fell away in a moment.

“It would destroy me,” he said. “If either of you was hurt, or worse-”

“So not that,” Harry said, cutting off that train of thought. “Okay. We can come up with something else.” He ran a finger down Louis’ chest, and Louis shivered. “Is there a reason it couldn’t work with things the way they are?” Harry asked after a moment. “Not right now, I mean, but later, with you doing your job as normal?”

Louis shrugged. “Would you be okay with that?” he asked. “There might be assignments like this, where I’ll be busy for weeks at a time. I don’t want to abandon you.”

“As long as you don’t fall in love with all your clients,” Harry said, smiling, “I think I can handle it.” He shrugged. “Besides, there’ll be plenty of times where I have to go on official trips, so I’ll be as much at fault as you.”

“Not your fault,” Louis said automatically, and Harry smiled.

“Not yours either,” he pointed out.

Louis kissed him then, long and sweet, and Harry’s hand traced patterns on his skin until it felt like he was going to pass out from pleasure.

“You’re sure about this?” Harry asked, when they pulled back to breathe. “I come with baggage. Media, fans, enemies, the whole lot. People will stop us in the streets. And I know how you feel about my being in the closet…”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it, now?” Louis asked, smiling. “After all that effort spent trying to talk me into this?”

“No,” Harry said. “I want this; I want you.” Warmth thrummed through Louis’ body. “But I want you to know what you’re getting into. It won’t be easy.”

Louis studied him for a long moment, eyes following every curve and every line of his face. “If you’re willing to try,” he said, “then so am I.”

Harry’s blinding smile was the best reward Louis could have asked for, and when he surged forward to capture Louis’ mouth in another kiss, well that wasn’t a half bad prize either.

They broke apart when Harry yawned, and Louis chuckled. “Guess it’s bedtime for the sleepy prince,” he teased, running his thumb across Harry’s chin. He pecked Harry’s lips once more, revelling in the fact that he could, then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Before he could stand, however, Harry grabbed his arm.

Louis turned back. “We seem to be doing this a lot,” he said. “What is it?”

Harry looked down sheepishly, then met Louis’ eyes again. “Stay?” he asked. “Not to – just to sleep. But… yeah.”

Louis blinked in surprise. “Oh,” he said. He hadn’t been expecting that. But it wasn’t like his bed was exceptionally comfortable or anything. And although he probably technically shouldn’t, as long as they weren’t doing anything actually inappropriate… what was the harm? “Okay,” he said at last.

Harry gave him another breath-taking smile, and Louis’ chest felt comfortably tight with happiness as he climbed under the covers. Harry wormed under as well, and Louis squawked as Harry pressed cold toes against his shins.

“Oi, behave or I’ll go back to my own bed!” he threatened.

Harry laughed. “I’ll be good.”

“‘S the only way you know how to be,” Louis murmured, smiling.

Harry ducked his head. “Shut up,” he muttered into the pillow.

“Yes sir.”

Silence and stillness reigned for a moment, then Harry shifted position. He rolled, then punched his pillow, then shifted again. Louis was already halfway asleep, but reached out to touch Harry’s broad back.

“Calm down, love,” he said, his voice thick with drowsiness. He rubbed at Harry’s shoulder, feeling the tension there slowly ease. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Just go back to sleep.” His hand dropped back to the bed. In the quiet, Louis thought Harry was finally drifting off. Then a disgruntled noise came from Harry, and he reached behind him to grab Louis’ arm, pulling it over him.

Louis smiled and tightened his grip, pulling Harry closer. His forehead rested against Harry’s shoulder, and he breathed in deeply, revelling in the warm, fruity smell that was Harry.

Seconds later, they were both asleep.

Two weeks later, Louis and Harry stood outside a pub called the West End Walrus, waiting for Liam. Harry wore the same casual-type clothes he always wore to the hospital, his hair hidden. Louis wore a band t-shirt and jeans that were tight enough that Harry had nearly drooled when they’d met up at the palace. It had taken a concerted effort on Louis’ part to get them out the door on time. And he’d caught Harry checking out his arse at least twice since.

“You’re sure about this?” Harry asked for the fourth time that night. Worrying seemed to be the only other thing he was doing.

Louis squeezed his hand. “I’m sure,” he said. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But what if-”

“Harry,” Louis interrupted him. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry said.

Louis chuckled. “We had this exact same conversation when we were going to tell your family.”

“Except reversed,” Harry agreed. “You were the nervous one then.”

“To be fair, this was me telling the literal Queen of my entire country that I had designs on her only son,” Louis pointed out. “She could probably have me, I don’t know, hanged for treason or something.”

“But she wouldn’t. It went fine.”

It had indeed gone far better than Louis could have expected. Gemma and Anne had both been surprised, but as soon as she recovered from her shock Gemma had smiled.

“I guess I can trust you to take care of my little brother,” she’d said.

“I can take care of myself,” Harry had protested, but he was smiling too.

“It’s my job to strong-arm your boyfriends,” she’d replied. “Though I might have trouble with this one.”

Anne had been slightly more reserved. “I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for us, Louis,” she’d said slowly. “But I’m concerned with the… propriety of the situation?”

Harry had started to protest, but Louis squeezed his hand, stopping him. “Nothing happened between us until the end of the assignment,” he said. No need to mention which side of the end. “I’ve already told Harry that I won’t hire on as his bodyguard, or as either of yours. I understand your reservations, and I share them, but – I think at the end of the day, what we both want most is to see Harry happy.”

Anne glanced from Louis to Harry, then back again. At last, she smiled. “He does look happy.”

Harry smiled too. “I am, Mum,” he’d said. “I’m so happy.

Louis forced his thoughts back to the present. “This will be fine too,” he said. “Liam likes you.”

Harry snorted quietly. “I still can’t believe you did that. Getting him in as an intern, I mean.”

“It kept you safe,” Louis said with a shrug.

“I’m still annoyed.”

“You’ll forgive me.” Louis smiled. “Especially after tonight.”

Colour rose in Harry’s cheeks and he looked down, biting at his bottom lip.

Louis’ smile widened. “Have I ever told you how bloody cute you are when you’re embarrassed?”

“Not helpful,” Harry muttered.

Louis bumped his knee against Harry’s. “I’ll stop,” he said. “But you really are unfairly cute.”

“Louis-”

“There’s Liam!” Louis let go of Harry’s hand to wave. “Oi, Li! Over here!”

Liam’s eyes found Louis and he smiled, but his brow furrowed slightly as he recognized Harry. He made his way through the crowd to stand beside them. “Hey,” he said, slightly breathlessly. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re two minutes early, actually,” Louis said. “We’re just unusually punctual.”

“Oh,” Liam said. “Well – hello, sir.”

“Just call me Harry,” Harry said, smiling. “Louis has told me a lot about you.”

Liam flushed slightly. “It was a safety risk,” he started, but Harry waved him off.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.”

“But you’re still making me suffer?” Louis asked, more amused than annoyed.

Harry smiled. “Are you suffering?”

Louis laughed. “Desperately,” he said. “Suffering from a tragic lack of alcohol. Let’s head inside.”

Inside, the pub was dimly lit but cosy. Old black-and-white photos lined the walls, and the furnishings were old, but well maintained.

“Here,” Louis said, handing Liam a few notes. “You get the first round while Harry and I find us a booth.”

Liam sent Louis a questioning look, but Louis only smiled, tugging on Harry’s arm. Liam located them a few minutes later at a spot in the back of the pub, three pints of beer balanced precariously in his hands.

“My hero,” Louis said, raising one of the glasses and taking a long sip. “Truly, the beverage of the gods.”

Harry laughed, taking a smaller sip of his own glass. Liam sat across the table, glancing between them.

“I have to say,” he said at last, “I didn’t expect to see you here, Your – Harry.”

Harry glanced at Louis, who shrugged. “I invited him,” Louis said. “Thought it would be fun.”

“But-” Liam chewed his lip. “Well, I thought… wasn’t this supposed to be for… you know.”

“I think the exact words I used were ‘going home with someone we can have,’” Louis said. Harry choked on his drink, and Louis patted him on the back. Liam looked like a startled rabbit. Louis simply smiled serenely. “But you see, that’s the best part.” He dropped a kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “I can have him. I can go home with him. And I have every intention of doing so.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, but the look he gave Louis made heat curl deep in his belly. It took several seconds to remember that Liam was also there, and he forced himself to look away from Harry.

Liam’s face was pinched, but his expression carried more of concern than disapproval. “Louis…” he said slowly, and Louis reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

“I’m a big boy, Li,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

Liam nodded slowly. “I know,” he said. “But… I worry.”

“You always do.” He smiled at Harry. “Liam is very maternal.”

“Someone has to be the reasonable one,” Liam pointed out, “and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you!” He shook his head. “But in all seriousness, are you sure about this?”

“No,” Louis said with a shrug. “And yes.” Harry glanced nervously at him, and Louis bumped their knees together under the table. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” he said. “But I am sure that I want this. I’m not sure how long it’s going to last. But I am sure that as long as it does, I’m all in.”

Harry’s smile was almost painfully bright, fluorescent lights reflecting off the dampness in his eyes. Louis’ eyes felt dangerously moist as well, and he cleared his throat. “But we still have to find you someone,” he said, turning back to Liam. “I’m taken care of, but you-”

“You really don’t have to,” Liam interrupted.

“I know,” Louis said with a laugh. “But where would be the fun in that?”

But they did have fun, despite never getting around to setting him up. In fact, apart from getting more drinks, they just stayed in the booth, talking and laughing. Liam loosened up quickly, helped along by the alcohol. Harry stuck to non-alcoholic drinks after the first beer, so he took slightly longer to adjust, but once Liam started talking about his dogs, Harry perked right up.

“I should have known dogs would be your kryptonite,” Louis murmured to him during a particularly impassioned rant from Liam about Watson’s intelligence.

Harry chuckled. “You should have,” he agreed. “Always wanted one.”

“Why don’t you get one?” Louis wanted to know. “You could.”

Harry shook his head. “Too much travel,” he said. “Taking it with me would be complicated, but I don’t want to leave it alone so often.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Liam interrupted them then, and the conversation turned to Liam’s magic kidney.

The pub was closing when they finally left. Outside, Liam gave Louis a clumsy hug. “I like him,” he whispered loudly. “Keep him.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Louis said, glancing at a grinning Harry. “Do you need a lift home? We’re going to mine; your flat is on the way.”

Liam waved off the offer. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “I’ll just get a taxi.” He stepped back, swaying only slightly. “Lovely to meet you,” he told Harry. “I mean, like, for real.”

“Liam?” Louis said.

“Yeah?”

“Go home. You’re drunk.”

“Yes sir.”

It wasn’t until they saw Liam safely into the back of a black cab that Louis and Harry made their way down the street. When they reached the car, Louis leaned against it, tugging on Harry’s wrist.

“Was that so bad?” he asked.

Harry smiled. “No,” he said. “It was fun. Liam’s great.”

Louis smiled too, and tugged Harry down for a kiss. It was quick and soft, over far too quickly, but it promised of things to come.

“Take me home,” Louis whispered as they separated. Harry’s answering smile sent shivers down his spine.

“Music to my ears,” he murmured.

Louis had never really understood why people called it making love, had always thought it was overly pretentious and euphemistic. But as their bodies moved together that night, Harry’s head thrown back against the pillow, Louis’ muscles trembling above him, he thought he just might understand.

They came down slowly, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets. They breathed, feeling the movement of their chests, lungs expanding, breathing each other in. Louis ran his fingers along Harry’s skin, watching him shiver.

“Louis?” Harry said after what felt like forever, and yet not long enough.

“Hmm?” Louis said absently, still tracing the veins along Harry’s chest.

“I’ve been thinking…” He stopped, covering Louis’ hand with his own. “Louis, please.”

Something in his voice caught Louis’ attention, and he looked up at Harry. “What is it, babe?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said again, then paused. He licked his lips, his eyes flicking away, then back to Louis. Louis waited, silently. Harry swallowed hard, then spoke again. “Maybe it’s time for me to come out.”

Surprise flashed momentarily across Louis’ face before he schooled his features into a pleasant neutrality. “Oh,” he said, his mind reeling slightly. He struggled to find the words to say. “If you think you’re ready, I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do.”

Harry’s eyes searched his face. “That’s it?” he said, worry lines creasing his forehead. “No… relief, happiness, excitement, whatever?”

Louis shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it.”

“It matters to me.”

Louis smiled, tugging on a lock of Harry’s hair. “I suppose so,” he said, “and I appreciate that, but I don’t have any place in this decision. This one’s all on you.”

“But you’re involved,” Harry pointed out. “It would impact you too, and there would be decisions to make together about how to proceed.”

“And we would make those together,” Louis promised. “But the coming out itself – that has to be all you. I can’t tell you what to do. It’s a personal choice.”

Harry bit his lip. “Do you want me to come out?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Harry’s face was so open, so genuine that Louis couldn’t argue. So he didn’t.

“When you first told me you were gay, I told you there was nothing to be ashamed of,” he said instead. “I still believe that, and I think that your coming out could make a difference to a lot of people. So as a yes or no question, yes, I want you to come out. But I also don’t want you doing it for the wrong reasons.” He touched Harry’s cheek, his fingers barely brushing against the softness of his skin. “I don’t want you doing it because you think I want you to, or your family wants you to, or anybody else wants you to. I don’t want you doing it because you think it’s your duty, because you have a responsibility. I want you to do it because you want to, because you think you’re ready and it will make you happy.”

Harry said nothing for a moment. He just stared silently up at Louis. Then he surged upwards, capturing Louis’ mouth in a fierce kiss. Louis kissed him back, slipping his hand behind Harry’s head and burying his fingers in his hair.

“I love you so much,” Harry breathed when they separated for a moment. “You’re perfect. You’re everything.”

Louis’ face flushed, but he knew arguing would do no good. So he kissed Harry instead, swallowing his words and turning them into breathless squeaks.

“I’ll talk to Mum in the morning,” Harry said when they separated again.

“And Gemma?”

A small smile flickered across Harry’s lips. “I may have already mentioned it to her.”

Louis laughed. “And what did she say?”

The smile grew larger. “She told me she was happy for me,” he said. “And that she was proud to call me her brother.” A dimple popped into view on one cheek. “And that she’ll punch out the first person who gives me shit.”

“Might be hard to find them,” Louis mused. “And she might have to get in line.”

“Please don’t,” Harry said, but his eyes were still sparkling.

“I’m supposed to protect you, though,” Louis teased.

“And you do,” Harry said. He ran his thumb along Louis’ cheek. “I am so, so lucky to have you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Their lips met again, soft and gentle. This time Louis was the one to pull away first.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked softly.

“Yes… no… it’s complicated.” Louis waited. Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I’m scared shitless,” he said at last. “But I think… I think it’s time. I think I’m ready.” He smiled. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” he said. “I don’t want to hide. I want to be able to kiss you in the middle of the street, to hold your hand and take you on dates… normal stuff. I want to be able to tell the world that I have the best boyfriend in the world.” He shrugged. “Coming out seems like the right way to start.”

Louis couldn’t speak for several long seconds, emotions welling up in his chest until he felt like he would burst. “Have I told you how amazing you are?” he said at last.

Harry laughed. “Not in twenty minutes at least.”

“Careless of me.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to tell me again.”

“Yeah.” Louis ran his hand down the side of Harry’s face. “I suppose I’ll have to keep telling you for the rest of your life.”

Harry’s smile was breath-taking. “Yeah?”

Louis smiled back. “Yeah.”