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Mrs. Plimpton places the black handset of the office phone back onto its cradle with a short nod. “Harry, you're to report to Mr. Nazareth's office, please.”

Harry's classmates ooh and ahh and suck their teeth and flick their fingers as he looks up from where he's been industriously biroing large cartoon penises on Will's maths steno for the last ten minutes. “Oh? Aye?” he says, a lazy smile crawling across his lips.

“Now please, Mr.Styles.” Mrs.Plimpton says with an exasperated sigh.

Unfolding himself from where he's wrapped around his desk, Harry adjusts his jumper over his tennis shirt and asks, smile wide, “Shall I bring my books as well?” as he dramatically eyes the clock over his teacher's head.

“Yes, yes. That's fine. The rest of you—settle!” Harry's economics teacher holds the door as he collects his things and heads down the aisle of desks, fist bumping the other students as he goes. “And do pull up your trousers; no one needs to see your pants.” Mrs Plimpton sounds long suffering as the rest of the class giggles. Harry hitches up his belt and when he gets to the classroom door, shoulders his rucksack and gives the students an enthusiastic thumbs up and a wide smile before turning into the hall towards the office.

Harry is no stranger to the ugly leatherette chairs just inside the Head Teacher's reception office. He's pretty proud of the pranks he's pulled over the years at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive, but this year he'd really buckled down and focused on finishing his GCSEs in good standing. So, Harry has no idea why he's been called to the office, this time. “Hello, Harry. Alright?”

“Good morning!” Harry amps up his smile, dimpling his cheek, and gives a short wave at Martha, the middle aged school secretary.

Martha blushes and giggles and plucks at her blouse, “Do have a seat, Head Teacher will be right with you.” She clears her throat and motions towards the ugly chairs by the glass block wall that separates the office from the hallway. Harry flops down into one of the terribly uncomfortable chairs, legs outstretched in front of him. He taps the toe of his boot against the ugly grey carpeting and chews absently at the skin around his thumbnail.

“Good morning Harry, do come in,” Mr. Nazareth opens his office door and smiles encouragingly at Harry.

Harry bites his lip and stands, almost dragging his feet as he crosses to the Head Teacher's office and hesitates at the doorway until Mr. Nazareth retreats back behind his desk, beckoning HarrFy to take a seat in one of the two chairs in front of him. “How are you this morning?” Mr. Nazareth's kind brown eyes crinkle when he smiles. The morning sun glints off the metal frame of his glasses, and Harry squints in the bright light.

Licking his lips, Harry shrugs and sets his rucksack on the floor by his feet, “Erm, fine sir...” he trails off and only just stops himself from jamming his finger in his mouth again.

“All As on your GCSE marks so far I see,” Mr. Nazareth flicks open a file folder and scans a page inside it before looking up at Harry.

“And one A star!” Harry says enthusiastically. Yeah, so his A star is in Physical Education but still, A star.

Mr. Nazareth laughs warmly. He takes a sheaf of papers from the file before closing it and resting his steepled fingers atop it. “Yes, well done. I trust revising for your exams is going well?” At Harry's somewhat cautious nod, Mr. Nazareth continues, “and you'll be joining us in the fall for college?”

“Yes, sir. Sociology, law, business and...something else I suppose.” Harry's brows furrow and he fidgets, leg twitching and bouncing as he tries to figure out what exactly it is he's been called down for. He'd had this discussion about his academic choices ages ago with the school councillor.

There's a brief awkward pause before the Head Teacher says, “Well, there's some time to decide on that, I suppose.” He takes a breath and looks down at the pile of papers in front of him. “So Harry, you're probably wondering why I've asked to see you this morning?” Harry gives Mr. Nazareth a non-committal shrug of his shoulders and then resumes chewing at the rough skin on his thumb. “Mrs.Pengilly asked if I'd speak to you.”

Removing his finger from his mouth with a wet pop, Harry exclaims “Mrs.Pengilly?” in rather a louder voice than he'd meant.

“Uh, yes.” Mr. Nazareth clears his throat loudly and picks up the small stack of papers and shuffles them across the desk towards Harry. “She was a little concerned about your final Personal and Social Education essay...” he trails off awkwardly and clears his throat.

Harry's green eyes darken and his mouth turns down in a frown, “I got a solid B on that essay, didn't I?” He'd received his grade last week so his being asked to the office made even less sense now.

Taking the essay back, Mr. Nazareth says, “Yes, yes. Quite right. There isn't anything wrong with the essay itself, you're a fine writer,” he smiles reassuringly. “It's just that, the topic, Mrs. Pengilly isn't sure you understood what it was you were supposed to write about.”

“Life goals.” Harry states emphatically, “Like what you want to do with yourself, after secondary school, all that.”

Mr. Nazareth nods slowly and says, “Yes. And you want to...?”

“Meet and marry Liam Payne, just like I said in my essay, sir. I feel that I'd be really good at that—you know, be a good boyfriend and then a good husband.” Harry raises a hand and twirls his index finger, pointing at the papers on the desk.

Coughing into his hand, Mr. Nazareth looks awkwardly apologetic when he says, “Yes, about that...”

“So it's not the essay that Mrs.Pengilly has a problem with, it's the content? What happened to safe schools and inclusion and all that?” Harry sits up a little straighter in his chair and is frowning so hard his eyebrows meet over the furrow between them.

“No no no. It's not that!” Mr. Nazareth looks distressed as he comes around his desk to sit beside Harry. Sighing as he folds his large frame down into the flimsy office chair he says, “It's just, Harry, the course, the final essays, they are to prepare you for what comes next after completing your GCSEs. College, University—perhaps what you'll read—or a vocational career of some kind...”

Harry continues to be puzzled, glaring at the Head Teacher, “Well, of course I'm doing Sixth Form, then Uni. Mum would kill me otherwise.” He shrugs dismissively. “But, the essay was around Life Goals and, my ultimate is...”

“Marrying Liam Payne.” Mr. Nazareth sighs in amused exasperation.

“Exactly,” Harry blinks slowly and nods. “I mean you have to go for what you want, you know? Like put it out there in the universe, eyes on the prize kind of stuff. A dream is just a dream until you make it real. I mean if I had to have, like, a Plan B or whatever, it's to be the best Under Twenty-One in Badminton, maybe rep for England in 2016 or something like that. But that's all short term stuff.” He makes a face and then continues sagely, “The long term is Liam Payne. Domestic Partnership. That sh...stuff is forever. And if you have a plan to fall back on, then at the first set back, you'll fall back and it'll be easy to tell yourself you tried and failed and oh well, look there's safe old Plan B, let's just do that then, shall we?”

Mr. Nazareth blinks owlishly behind his round glasses and tries to process the tumble of Harry's words. “Right. Just so. Plan B is...the Olympics?”

“Right.” Harry nods, wide smile dimpling both his cheeks.

“But, you've got your university on track first.” Mr.Nazareth claps his palms over his knees and then stands. “That seems to be what Mrs.Pengilly was concerned about, all the other students in your class wrote about that and you...didn't.”

Harry just barks out a loud laugh and shrugs, getting to his feet and shouldering his bag. “Yeah, guess so.” He makes a face.

“Well, that's good then,” Mr. Nazareth awkwardly offers his hand for Harry to shake. “Good luck with revising and exams, Mr. Styles.”

Harry raises an eyebrow but gives the Head Teacher's hand a brief shake before raising a hand in farewell to Martha. Just as he opens the door to head out into the hall way Mr. Nazareth says, “Oh, say, Harry?” Harry stops and turns as Mr. Nazareth continues, “Does this Liam Payne even know you exist?”

Biting his lip, Harry's eyes widen with earnest determination as he wraps his long fingers around the office door frame. “Well, no. Not yet.” And then he can't contain his full, bright grin. “But he will!” With that Harry salutes the Head Teacher and lopes out into the hallway, just a little late for his next class.

* * *

“Where've you been?” Harry jumps to his feet from where he's been sat on a parking bumper when he sees Louis round the corner of the Sixth Former's wing. “It's Tuesday, you know I've got a shift at the bakery. If the old man gets stroppy you'll have to talk to Mr Mandeville and tell him to keep his hair on.” Harry scowls.

Louis huffs and puffs, quickly opening the back door of the old Vauxhaull and dumping his pack on the seat. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry mate. I'd be delighted to deal with your employer. The OAPs love me, anyway. Didn't mean to leave you waiting. Just...you know, social obligations.” He slides behind the driver's seat and turns the engine over with a deft flick of his wrist.

Looking up from where he's fishing his iPod out of his backpack, Harry rolls his eyes as he takes in the rumpled collar of Louis polo and the increasingly lurid red love bite just under his jaw. “Yeah, right. Sarah Allen kind of social obligations. So, how well did your study date pay off?”

“Tragically, not very well at all, to be honest.” Louis pulls an exaggerated sad face as he reverses out of his spot, much too fast if the way the year ten girls walking to the bus stop scream and run out of the way is any indicator.

After plugging his iPod into the rig Louis' set up in the old car's tape deck and picking a playlist, Harry gives Louis' shoulder a consolatory pat and says, “I told you I'd help you revise. It's all I do now anyway, and sixth form French can't really be all that different.”

“Well sod French anyway,” Louis says as they turn into the high street, “I'm going to be a bleedin’ Drama Teacher why in the world do I need a second language?”

“Aren't there, like important,” Harry lets go of hugging his pack to his chest to make air quotes, “works of drama written in French? What if you have to teach those?”

Louis makes a low, frustrated noise in the back of his throat, “Not helping, Curly.” To emphasize his displeasure, Louis reaches out and winds a lock of Harry's hair around his finger, tugging harder than is strictly necessary.

“Oww! Stoppit!” Harry slaps at Louis’ arm and yells at him when he veers into on-coming traffic nearing the bend in the A50. “Lou, you need to focus. Your mum and dad will pitch an absolute fit if you fail out, again.”

Louis had flunked out of the only two decent Sixth Form colleges up in Doncaster and as a last resort his parents had agreed to send him to Holmes Chapel to live with his aunt and attend the college there. Only his aunt is a very successful, very busy estate agent and has properties all over Cheshire, so she's hardly ever home. Louis, never the best at self-motivating, takes advantage of her absence to host the most over the top parties, every week end.

Once more placing both hands on the steering wheel, Louis sighs and his expression shifts from over-dramatic to dogged. “If only this course involved French kissing, yeah? I am ace at that.”

Harry makes a face but pats Louis’ leg, “You'll do better. Nialler and I can help you.”

Louis abruptly throws the car into park in the middle of the roadway, in front of Mandeville's bakery. “Yeah well, what would help is yourself, me and Niall getting off our tits. Pick you up after your shift?”

Harry laughs and shakes his shaggy curls around before smoothing his fringe across his forehead, “Yeah, sure.”

“Excellent!” Louis enthuses, leaning over to smack a kiss to Harry's cheek and says in a ridiculous, high pitched voice, “Have a good night, Sweetums!” Harry's only response is to tip back his head and laugh.

* * *

“So, are you sure this isn't, you know, athletics for gimps?” Niall elbows Harry.

Harry makes a grumpy noise as his tea sloshes out of its paper cup and over his hand. “Oi! That's my sister!” Harry elbows Niall back while licking his burnt fingers.

Taking a huge bite of the greasy, paper-wrapped sausage roll he's holding in both hands Niall says, “But, like, look at her. Hop, skip, jump? It's ridiculous is what, and totally looks like something they made up to make the special kids feel, well..special.” Bits of pastry fleck his track jacket and the shoulder of Harry's t-shirt as he talks.

“Jesus, chew with your mouth closed.” Harry cuffs him in the back of the head and makes a disgusted face as he flicks the bits of pastry from his shirt. “Don’t let Gem hear you say that. She's the best in her age group. Might get to be an alternate for the Olympics and all that.” Harry's voice is full of pride as they watch Gemma take her turn in the sand pit, cheering when the stats board shows she's achieved a personal best.

“WOOOOOO!!!” Louis comes up behind them, jumping on Niall’s back, and attempting to take a bite of his roll.

Niall scowls fiercely ”Gerrof!” he yells, and elbows Louis in the stomach, sending them both careening backward, the pastry flying through the air before landing in the dirt. “Oh it’s on now.” Niall puts Louis in a headlock and they roll around in the freshly mown lawn.

“Gemma save me!!!!” Louis screams melodramatically, and Harry swivels to watch as his older sister jogs towards them.

Harry kicks at Niall’s leg and hauls Louis up by the back of his jumper. “Do get up, will you?” Harry mutters.

He hands a grease stained paper bag to Niall, whose expression slides from devastated to overjoyed in the blink of an eye as he shoves most of his face into the bag and inhales deeply. “Mmm…lard,” he says with a misty sigh before extracting a pastry and jamming the entire thing into his mouth. “Hey Gem,” he mumbles.

“Eww,” Gemma, Harry, and Louis jump back from the spray of crumbs from Niall’s full mouth.

“Hey Gem! Well done on your turn there,” Harry curls his arm around his sister’s shoulder and smacks a loud kiss to the side of her head.

Gemma shoves him away but can’t help the pride in her beaming smile, “Yeah, thanks.”

“You met the Labradoodle yet?” Louis pipes up, tugging on Gemma’s plait and making kissing noises at Harry.

“Oy, gerroff!” Harry elbows Louis in the chest, causing Louis to make over-exaggerated gagging noises and falling back on the ground, rolling around. “And no, for your information, I have not met Liam, yet. And I’ve told you, stop calling him that or I’ll punch you!”

Gemma cuffs Louis on the head where he’s sat up and leaning against her knee. “He said he’d come say hello when I spoke with him at the clubhouse this morning at training, but now I’m not sure I want him knowing I associate with you lot.” She gives them all pointed looks and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Hey! What’ve I done?” Harry scowls at his sister.

“Well, there was falling out of a tree whilst using a creepy phallic telephoto lens to take secret photos of the poor git.” Gemma huffs, giving her brother a very pointed glare.

“Is that how you got all those shots of the Labradoodle in action that replaced the Legolas shrine over your desk?” Louis asks, face wide with shock. Niall laughs so hard his face is red and he gasps for breath, collapsing beside Louis.

Making a whining noise at the back of his throat, Harry replies, “It was a birthday gift from Nan I was trying to figure out how to use for my photography section, and I did not fall out of a tree, I got caught in some branches.” He huffs, scrubbing his hands through his hair and shoving his fringe out of his eyes.

Gemma laughs and messes Harry’s hair where he’s just tidied it, “Whatever you say, H. Here he is now, so good luck and all that. Don’t make me sorry I arranged this.” She motions with her chin to the crest of the hill behind them.

Harry’s eyes go wide and he jams his hands into his jeans pockets. “You lot have summat else to do now, yeah?”

Niall pretends to give the question serious thought before saying, “Nope,” and Louis says, “Not a thing I can think of at the mo'.’”

Laughing at the panicked look on Harry’s face, Gemma says, “Come on you muppets, mum’s got chicken sandwiches left in the picnic hamper…” she doesn’t even get to finish her sentence before Niall is up and on his feet, tearing off towards the car park, Louis hot on his heels.

“Hiya Gem, y’alright?” Liam calls with a friendly wave as he approaches them. “Quite the job of work you did there today. Personal best, if I’m not mistaken?“

Preening a little Gemma says, “Yes!”

“Fantastic!” Liam moves in closer to give her a one armed hug and Harry can’t help the tiny tendrils of jealousy that swim around his stomach. “Gosh you know, triple jump is so hard. It takes so much skill and practice and you’re just marvellous at it aren’t you?”

“Thank you so much!” Gemma smiles wide. “You hear that Horan? It takes skill and practice! How much skill and practice does it take to stuff pastries into your maw?” Gemma yells towards the receding forms of Niall and Louis. “Um, Liam this is my baby brother Harry, Harry this is Liam. I..erm, well I’ve got to go, yeah?” Gemma shrugs and whispers, “Go get ‘em, Romeo.” She winks at Harry and gives him a none too subtle shove before taking off after the boys.

Liam, to his credit, doesn’t say anything just raises and eyebrow at Harry and chuckles uncertainly. “Ehm…hello there,” he says.

“You’ve cut your hair.” Harry blurts after a too long silence.

Liam tilts his head and raises his eyebrow even higher. “Suppose I have.” He runs a palm over the buzz cut top of his head.

“I’m Harry Styles,” Harry smiles broadly, dimples straining his cheeks and holds out his hand.

Liam takes his offered hand and shakes it a perfunctory three times. Harry’s smile widens and he continues to pump their joined hands. “Oh, hang on. Harry underscore Styles, on twitter?”

Realizing he’s still got Liam’s hand in his, Harry draws it back with a sharp jolt and once more stuffs both hands into the front pockets of his jeans, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet a little. “Yep,” he replies with an emphatic nod that tumbles the thick fall of his hair over his eyes.

“So if I agree to go to dinner with you will you perhaps stop tweeting at me like a hundred times a day or whatever?”

Harry pauses, pretending to give Liam’s request actual thought, and clucking his tongue and with a slight upward tick of his lips says, “Sorry mate, not likely. But I saw you favourite that one, don’t even front.”

Liam’s eyes crinkle with the force of his laughter, like Harry’s just uttered the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his life, “Well, it’s not every day someone calls you an Adidas Gazelles clad Golden God and gift to the sport of Athletics.”

“I merely state the truth,” Harry says, spreading his arms wide and giving Liam his sweetest, most charming smile while batting his eyelashes. “But if you mean it about the dinner thing, I think mum and my step-dad are going back to the HC but Lou has his car and we were all going for a Nando's if you’re like to join?”

“Who can say no to Nando's?” Liam laughs, and they head up the hill to find the others.

* * *

The five of them squeeze into a booth, Gemma grimacing and smacking Niall’s elbow out of her cleavage.

“Mango lime? Can’t say as I’ve ever known anyone to order that one.” Liam glances at Harry’s plate while using the tines of his fork to slide both cheese and pineapple off their skewers.

“I just know what I like,” Harry shrugs and shovels a fork piled with chicken and chips into his mouth while his sister rolls her eyes at his complete lack of subtlety and Louis mutters “Oh brother,” under his breath.

Liam raises his water glass and says, “So, cheers very much for including me in your little dinner here. Good job on the personal best, Gemma. And, here’s to the qualifiers in London going equally as good, yeah?” Everyone one shouts hear hear! and taps their water glasses with their knives.

“S’no bother at all, Li, is it fellas? And I can’t wait to say I actually know someone on Team GB!” Harry beams at Liam, a drop of peri peri sauce on his chin.

“Hey!” Gemma scowls and kicks at Harry’s shin under the table.

“Here’s to knowin’ two fine folks on Team GB,” Niall pipes up helpfully.

Making an exaggerated kissy face at Niall, Gemma says, “Aww Nialler, bless. See, you yobs? At least there’s one of you who knows how to treat a lady.”

Harry laughs and mutters “Lady, yeah right,” under his breath, earning him another well placed kick from Gemma that shakes the entire table.

Laughing as well, and giving Harry a consoling pat on the shoulder which Harry totally takes as a cue to tuck himself in close to Liam’s side, Liam asks, “So Gemma, how long have you and Niall been going out? I thought you were with Johnny Devlin, the high jump guy there for a while?” He wipes his mouth on his serviette, looking between the two of them.

There’s a prolonged, shocked silence before the boys erupt in hysterical laughter and Gemma, looking as though someone’s slapped her, hisses “Ewww,” and narrows her eyes at Liam across the table.

Harry finally manages to get his braying laugh under control, and, swiping his mouth across his the inside of his elbow says, “Niall and Gems aren’t dating.” Harry takes in Liam’s embarrassed expression and supplies gently, “We’ve known him since we were kids, haven’t we?”

Gemma smiles, attempting to put Liam back at ease. “Yeah, ever since Mum’s been Landlady at the Red Lion. Niall’s Da’s the barman: Bobby the Barman.” She takes a sip of her Coke and says, “Niall’s like a brother. Just exactly like another annoying little brother, to me.”

“Sorry,” Liam says sheepishly.

“Nah mate, they’re confusing as hell, sometimes.” Louis offers with a salute of his glass.

“So have you known everyone for ever as well?” Liam arches his eyebrow as he cuts his entire breast of chicken into bite size pieces.

With a snort, Louis says, “Not hardly,” and makes to stab Niall in the hand with his fork when Niall reaches across the table to pinch chips from Louis’ plate.

“Met Lou about a year ago when he started at the Sixth Form College at my school. Thought perhaps he fancied me a bit, at first.” Harry blushes at the memory. “Turns out he fancied ol’Iced Gem here.” He waves his fork in small circles at the other side of the table.

“Awkward,” Gemma deadpans, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “but I was dating that idiot Johnny Devlin at the time, and Lou’s too high maintenance for the likes of me. Also, watch who you’re calling old, bub.”

She goes to kick Harry again but Louis catches her heel and says, “Actually, my darlings, you’re both wrong. I rather fancied the shit out of your mum,” he says haughtily, chin raised. He cackles in gleeful amusement at Liam’s shocked expression. “Seriously, have you clamped eyes on Foxy Coxy yet? She fills out a dressing gown let me tell you. She is well fit.” Louis whistles low and watches as Liam’s entire head turns an alarming shade of red.

Harry actually bangs his head off the table while Gemma sputters and gasps, “Louis you are evil that is our Mother you are talking about!”

Niall’s entire head is also as red as a warning beacon, but for entirely different reasons. He’s laughing so hard he’s gasping for air and great crocodile tears are coursing down his cheeks as he chokes on his dinner. “Oh my god, the lot of you,” he sputters and Liam reaches over to thump him helpfully between the shoulder blades.

“Erm…so. You’ve dated both Harry and Gemma then?” Liam is still struggling to lead the conversation and his eyebrows wriggle from his hairline and back again.

“Nah, neither really. What’s a handie between friends tho, eh?” Louis wrinkles up his nose. “Not that I would have said no, but a boy must have standards…” Harry groans low from where he’s still face planted on the table top.

Liam focuses his attentions on chewing and swallowing his mouthful of food, then pauses to carefully say, “So, like, you’re attracted to both. I mean, you’d date both…That is, like…” he sputters to a halt and Harry gives his wrist an encouraging squeeze.

“M’bisexual, mate. S’alright to say it out loud y’know.” Louis scowls as he forcefully dunks his chicken into the peri peri, his Yorkshire accent thickening with his annoyance.

Eyebrows furrowed as he glances in confusion at Louis, Liam finally says. “Huh. Well, don’t suppose I’ve ever met anyone who fancies both boys and girls before.”

Louis’ scowl deepens, and making a displeased sound at the back of his throat, he pushes out from his chair at the head of the table and stands. “Aye as I live and breathe, a real live bisexual!” He waggles his index fingers on either side of his head. “And look! No horns!” he turns to waggle is ample bottom at the table, “and no tail!”

“Lou, do sit down and quit being such a tit. I’m sure Liam didn’t mean anything by it.” Harry gives Liam’s shoulder a squeeze and reaches by him to give Louis’ t-shirt hem a tug until he’s settled back in his chair. “Let’s just finish our nice dinner, shall we?”

Louis grumps, pushing his food around his plate and Liam continues to add bumbling blustering apologies, “No no I really didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes things come out of my mouth all wrong and aren’t at all how I imagined them in my head. I’m terribly sorry to have upset you, Louis.”

Louis waves him off impatiently and Niall continues to blissfully shove forkfuls of food into his mouth. He gives a small sound of surprise when he realizes he’s cleared his plate but then, without thought or pause, shifts his fork to Louis’ plate and happily continues eating.

Gemma smirks, watching her brother watching Liam. She pats delicately at her mouth with her serviette before she says, “So Li, do you?”

Harry’s green eyes go wide before they narrow suspiciously at his sister. He makes a strangled choking noise when Liam, dark eyes wide and trusting, takes the bait and replies, “Sorry Gemma, m’a bit thick. Do I what?”

Louis laughs meanly as Niall giggles and Gemma, eyebrow arched, asks, “How ‘bout it? Do you like girls and boys?” She casually waves her fork between Liam and Harry.

“Well, I mean, growing up I didn’t really have a lot of mates beyond my sisters, but then once I got to secondary I made pretty good friends with Andy and Maz. So I suppose I’m just a fan of all sorts of people, really. Just glad to be included.” Liam coughs awkwardly, hoping he’s answered the question correctly.

“Doubt that’s what she meant, Labradoodle,” Louis chuckles and then hisses when Gemma pinches him and hisses, “don’t be mean!”

Liam bites his lip and says, “Oh?” uncertainty written all over his kind face.

“Yes, Li,” Gemma starts gently, “I meant do you like boys like my brother—boys like Harry.” Harry thunks his head to the table’s surface once more, groaning loudly in embarrassment.

Liam brightens at that and says happily, “Oh yeah! Of course!” Harry jerks back upright and grasps at Liam’s hand. “He seems really great, Gemma. You’re a top lad, Harry. He’s always so nice and encouraging on Twitter and whatnot. You all seem so great, and ever so nice as to include me in your little friendly dinner. I love meeting new people and making friends, I truly do.” He beams at Harry who immediately returns his head to the table while everyone laughs uncomfortably at Liam’s sweet little speech.

“Liam, darling, Gemma means do you like our Harry in a please let him kiss my face off because I fancy the hell out of him kind of way.” Louis squeezes Liam’s forearm, plucking at the black sweatband at his wrist and cutting both Liam and Harry with a meaningful glance.

“Oh…well…that is, I mean I…” Liam twists his serviette between his fingers and sputters awkwardly.

“C’mon lads, let’s go for a bit of a walk and let all this food settle before we head back to the village, alright?” Gemma bounces to her feet.

Louis nods in agreement and gets up as well, “Excellent idea Gem. C’mon Nialler.” Louis glares daggers at the top of Niall’s pale blond head.

“But m’not done yet!” Niall protests.

“Yes,” both Gemma and Louis state firmly, “you are.” Gemma takes some notes out of her handbag and tucks them under her plate, using her free hand to tug roughly on Niall’s elbow until he gets to his feet, “Like herding brain damaged cats,” she mutters under her breath. She makes an encouraging motion at Harry, who is peeking up at her from in between his fingers and the safety of the fall of his curly fringe in his eyes, and then winks and with a wide smile, ushers Louis and Niall out of the restaurant and out into the car park.

“I’m sorry about them,” Harry sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. “They mean well enough, I suppose.”

“Ehm, yeah Gemma and your friends seem great, really great.” Liam says a bit too enthusiastically to be taken as sincere.

Fiddling with his water glass, Harry looks up coyly and asks, “Li, do, like, have you thought about perhaps liking boys—fancying them—perhaps fancying me a bit like that, maybe?” He bites his lip and tries not to sound too hopeful.

Liam licks his lips and stares at his hands where his palms are spread flat against the table. Letting out a long breath, he finally says, “You’re really lovely Harry. You are. I mean that.” He pauses for a long while then, trying to make his jumbled thoughts into words. “I think we’ll make fantastic friends, I can tell that for sure. You’re good fun and I’m so glad to have met you and have friends here. But, I can honestly say I’ve never given any thought to fancying a boy—any boy—like that, before.” His smile is tight and apologetic. “So, I think my answer to your question is; I don’t know?”

Harry puffs out a breath and smiles. “Well, that’s not a no, is it?” and he jams his forkful of food into his mouth before he can say anything else painfully awkwardly embarrassingly earnest.

Shoulders hitching in a tiny laugh, Liam’s eyes crinkle up and he claps Harry on the back. “No, no it’s not?” and they both laugh, sitting with their heads tilted together finishing their dinner.

* * *

“Fifty quid? Have you gone barmy?” Louis jumps off the swing set, kicking up a cloud of dust and sand. “Why in the world would I want to fork out fifty pound to watch you make moon eyes over a simpleton?”

Harry scowls and continues to drag the toes of his converse through the sand beneath the swing set. “Don’t be mean. He’s not simple. And it’s a fundraiser for my sister’s athletics club. And since when do you say no to open bar and all you can eat?”

“Since it costs fifty pound.” Niall offers up sadly from his perch atop the swingset itself. “Sorry mate, no dosh.”

“C’mon. It’ll be no fun without my best mates there!” Harry turns his best wide eyed pleading expression on Louis. He sighs in frustration, knowing that what works on everyone else not subject to Harry at his most manipulating on a regular basis doesn’t even phase his friends and immediate family. “Fine, I’ll pay.”

Niall laughs loudly. “And where are you getting one hundred and fifty pounds. You must be providing some service at the bakery.” Louis snorts and holds his hand up, smacking a high five to Niall’s palm as Niall tries to hang on to his Ritter Sport and stay in his perch. He wobbles dangerously but manages to right himself with a whoop of victory.

“Ha fucking ha. I’ve savings you know.” Harry stands, swiping at the arse of his shorts and goes to sit at the top of the slide, wincing at the hot metal against his legs.

Louis walks over the slide, bracing his Toms clad feet at the sides, ambles his way up like a monkey. “Think Foxy Coxy might miss the funds from the biscuit barrel, Harold.”

“Birthday money, ya spoon. I’ve been saving it for something good.” Harry lifts his bare foot and sets it squarely in the centre of Louis face, ignoring his squawking and pushing him until his tumbles backwards down the nursery slide.

Louis shrugs, “If having us poke fun of your attempts to woo a straight dude is your idea of something good, I’m in. Free food and booze is naught to be sneezed at. You game, Nialler?”

“He’s maybe not straight!” Harry snips defensively.

“You had me at free food and drink.” Niall says dreamily as he gambles down the swingset and over to the slide, sitting on the steps and looking up at Harry.

“Good, so we’re sorted then. Friday next. Mark it on your calendars. I have a feeling it’s going to be epic.” Harry scoots on his bum until he slides the short way down the toddler shoot and then raises his hands in triumph, Louis and Niall kicking sand at him all the while.

* * *

Harry tries to keep his nervous excitement to a minimum around his parents and Gemma as they arrived at the working man’s club the Cheshire East Athletics had rented out for their do. His parents dutifully buy tickets for the Chinese auction and allow Gemma and Harry to pick which of the items on offer to bid on. Harry just dumps all of his tickets into the first lot, a TV and blu ray player and then moves on to the food. All the while scanning the room for Niall, Louis and of course, Liam.

As he’s picking through the cold meats and pickle trays, Niall puts him in a head lock, stealing the bread roll perched precariously on his paper plate. “Now this party’s started!” Niall whoops joyously. “You gonna get up and have a go at the karaoke, Hazza?”

“Noooo. Too nervous,” Harry says, eyes on the entry door as he tries to wrestle his bun back from Niall.

“Aww, c’mon Harry, you’ve a lovely voice. The Ladies’ League at St Luke’s enjoyed your rendition of Hallelujah at the Garden Party last spring ever so much!” Anne fawns over Harry tucking his curls behind his ear.

Swatting at her hand as politely as possible. Harry mumbles, “Mum, this is Gemma’s do—let her have the spotlight tonight, okay?” He motions to where Gemma is sitting paper plate perched on her knee and glass of jubilee punch in her hand, entertaining the old biddies who’ve driven up to Crewe from Holmes Chapel, entranced by the possibility of telling the neighbours they’ve kept company with a possible Olympian.

“You’re a good boy, sweetheart,” his mother presses a kiss to the side of his head and then retreats to where she’s left Robin doing his level best to look interested in the planning of council flower beds for the Autumn.

“She don’t know you at all.” Louis wraps his hand around Harry’s face tugging him backward and making Niall laugh so hard he spews ham sandwich all over his freshly pressed white dress shirt. “Good boy my aunt fanny.”

Elbowing Louis in the solar plexus, Harry frees himself and says, “Don’t be vulgar.”

“I’ll show you vulgar!” Louis waggles his eyebrows, tongue poking out between his teeth.

Harry just pushes at his face and says, “Make yourself useful and go get us some pints, yeah?”

“Oooh, Foxy Coxy letting you have more than just a sip of one of Gemma’s alcho-pops these days?” Louis sucks his teeth, feigning being impressed.

“Well, no.” Harry wrinkles up his nose. “But, the barman is downstairs inn't he? And Mum and Robin are up here… and they’ll probably leave no too long after the dessert auction closes so….”

“Awww whilst mummy and step-daddy are away the good boy will play, eh?” Harry locks arms with Louis and Niall and leads them towards the stairs down to the pub.

“Mum, me and Niall and Lou are just gonna find the other kids downstairs, okay?” Harry calls out to his mother. “Don’t worry about finding me when you’re ready to leave, Lou’s brought his car he’ll give me a lift back.”

Anne sighs and flicks her dark hair away from her face. “Alright sweetheart, but I expect you to behave responsibly. You too Louis, especially since you’re driving.” She gives them both pointed looks and Harry is relieved that even though it’s perfectly clear both his mother and step-dad know there’s going to be drinking, they don’t call him out for it.

Down at the pub, in the murky half light, tucked against peeling faux wood panelled walls, Harry finds most of the kids in his year and a goodly chunk of the college kids Louis knows. They’re all bunched together in tight, cliquey knots, nursing bright blue and pink bottles of Breezers or black cans of light lager.

Harry tucks his and Niall’s tickets into the front pocket of Louis’ black jeans and then with a pat on the arse sends him off to the bar to get the first round. Turning to try and find a spot for the three of them Harry sighs in a much put upon way when he hears “Hiyah Harry,” and sees Cher Lloyd clearing a spot for him in her group of big haired, make up drenched friends. “The Ninnies,” as Niall likes to call them.

“Hey Cher,” Harry sighs, walking over and cursing the good manners his parents have made as natural to him as breathing. “Y’alright?”

Cher pats the banquette beside her and smiles invitingly, her narrowly tweezed eyebrows shooting up her forehead, “Yeah, great thanks, you? Have you got your exam results yet?”

“Not yet, I don’t think they’re out for another week. I’m sure you’ll do well.” He tries to ignore her insistent and obvious attempts to get her to sit with him. “Erm…have room for Tommo and Niall as well?” he asks.

She purses her lips and narrows her thick lashed eyes, “No,” she says, making her girlfriends titter with laughter. Harry just shrugs and moves on.

He finally finds two chairs wedged against a wall right by the rubbish bins and sighs, settling into them. “Jesus,” Louis exclaims when he finally locates them, hands full of drinks. “Just keep going out the fire exit, why don’t you?”

Niall laughs and says “Think of it as a sobriety test.”

“I’ve no choice but to be sober, Anne thinks I’m driving you lot home and I’d hate to disappoint her and ruin my chances…”

“Finish that thought and die. Shut the fuck up and drink, you tosser.” Harry extracts one of the tins of lager from where Louis’ got them cuddled to his chest and salutes them before taking a deep draught.

Sipping at his bright blue Breezer, Louis asks conversationally, “So, no sign of the Labradoodle yet, hey?”

Harry glowers at him and says, “Shut up. Why do you call him that? And when he does get here because he promised me he will you better bloody well be nice to him BooBear or I’m going to sit you at The Ninnies table and you can just deal with that.”

“Try it and I’ll leave your arse here to take the barf bus home.” Louis tips his bottle at Harry and smirks. “And he’s the Labradoodle because have you looked at him? With his ridiculous fuzzy head and his over the top enthusiastic reaction to everything he’s exactly like a bleedin’ Labradoodle.”

“Still you’re mean.” Harry takes another drink from his beer can. Then thinking better of it, tips the entire thing up and drains it with several long swallows. He crushes it a bit in his fist and sets the empty down under his chair. He picks up another tin of lager from the stash Louis had brought back and starts in on it. Harry feels the key to solving his nervousness in social settings is to just drink until he doesn’t care.

“I don’t even know what a Labradoodle is. Sounds like a snack cake.” Niall says, munching happily on the finger food he’s piled high on his plate and waving cheerfully to a group of giggling girls from the Catholic College.

“And you’re narky,” Louis fires back. “It’s a dog Nialler: a great stupid fuzzy dog.”

“Liam’s got a haircut now, you can’t call him that anymore.” Harry shoves a ritz cracker into his mouth and turns his attention back to the stairs, mentally willing Liam to appear.

Louis takes another long slow pull from his beer and says, “Yes, because his hairstyle is the most important part of what I’ve said to focus on.”

He’s just got up to check out the offerings on the dessert table when Louis says loudly, “Speak of the Labradoodle and the Labradoodle appears.”

Harry’s head whips around so fast he feels a ping shoot up along the tendon in his neck and he catches sight of Liam, all his breath leaving his chest. “Christ. He looks amazing.” He takes in Liam’s maroon button up shirt and grey jeans, sagged low, and his spotless white supras and then down at his own clothes. “Do I look okay?”

Niall straightens Harrys tie, stealing the red velvet fairy cake off his plate. “You look great, Haz. Go get’em.” And he shoves Harry towards the stairs.

Before Harry gets anywhere near Liam he trips over his own feet, snagging some crepe paper streamers and bashing his elbow off a cocktail table: Cher’s cocktail table. Liam turns to look towards all the noise Harry’s crashing about has caused and smiles and waves cautiously. Harry waves back and then, in a fit of blind panic he looks at Cher and says, “So, Lloyd-you fancy a snog?”

“Yes!” Cher yips, getting immediately to her feet and smoothing the tight purple satin of her skirt. “Yes, I certainly do!” She takes the hand Harry’s offered her and slinks past her tittering group of friends. Harry’s hand slides down her back to rest awkwardly on her bum and as they walk past where Louis and Niall are sat, he snags another two tins of lager and steers them towards the dark and somewhat creepy alcove that houses the infrequently used coat check and the loos are.

“Uh hi Harry,” Liam calls at his retreating back. Harry waves his arm awkwardly behind him, shaking little droplets of beer all over the laminate flooring.

“Well, that was certainly different,” Liam takes Harry’s abandoned seat and looks from Louis to Niall.

They both nod sagely and Louis says, “Yes, I believe you can absolutely say that Harry is certainly different.”

“Never seen the lad try and have it off with a girl in m’life. Himself must be well on his way to ossified.” Niall says in flat out amazement.

Liam sits there quietly looking at his hands, “Oh. I thought Harry’d be happy to see me. It’s just we’ve been texting quite a bit ever since the Nando's night and…” he sighs and looks so confused and dejected Niall thinks there might be something to Louis’ assessment of Liam.

“Never mind that. There’s food and drink and you’ll be all right.” Louis claps a hand to Liam’s shoulder and leads him towards the buffet table.

“Oh I don’t drink. Training…Olympics, you know.” Liam just shrugs and tries to laugh off Louis’ look of abject horror.

“No drinking?!?” Louis and Niall say together loud enough to turn heads from other tables.

Liam fumbles in his back pocket and produces a strip of tickets. “Nope. I do like a Coca-Cola now and again. Not much use for these though. You blokes might as well put them to use.” Liam hands them over to Louis with a good natured smile.

“You may just be my new favourite,” Niall says happily, pinching a devilled egg off the plate he’s just handed over to Liam.

They’ve just settled back into their seats, a coke for Liam and more drinks for Louis and Niall, and are politely discussing how much money the fundraiser will make for the running club and how Liam hopes it will be put to good use when Harry comes careening around the corner, hair a riot of tangled curls, shirt buttons skeewiff and a trail of bright red lipstick marks up his neck.

“Li! Liam! Oh my god. Save me, mate. A mistake has been made. I repeat, a mistake has been made!” Harry hooks his arm through Liam’s and drags him to his feet, using his other hand to grab more beer from the ledge behind their seats and high tailing it towards the fire exit next to them.

Just as the door is about to close they hear an enraged shriek, “Harry Styles you can’t play me ‘round like that! Who do you think you are? I have feelings you know!!! Who’s this Lee girl? Harry! Harry?”

The door slams shut and Harry presses himself flush to the back of the hall, pushing Liam until he does the same. “Harry…what?”

“Shhh,” he holds his finger to his lips and cocks his head towards the door, listening intently and drinking from his beer. “Phew, okay. That was close.”

“Harry, what even were you doing with Marge?”

Face contorted in confusion Harry asks, “Marge?” lolling his head slowly until he’s facing Liam, his grin softened by his fourth beer in less than an hour.

“Yeah, you know—that girl? In there?” Liam waves towards the fire door.

“Oh. Oh god. Did Louis tell you her name is Marge?” When Liam nods, Harry’s eyes go wide and horrified. “That’s because my best mate is a pig. Her name is Cher. Cheryl Lloyd. Louis and his idiot Sixth Formers call her Marge because Stanley Lucas is an asshole who had it off with her and then told the entire school. That’s she’s you know…she um…like margarine?”

Liam just continues to blink, confused and slow, prompting Harry to continue. “She spreads easy—so margarine,” he says in exasperation. “Even if it’s true it’s still such an unkind thing to say about someone…”

“But weren’t you just trying to have it off with her?”

Harry scrunches up his face, thinking for long seconds. He offers one of the beers he’s got cradled to his chest to Liam and shrugs when Liam shakes his head with a quiet no thanks. “You’re right. That was cruel of me. I’ll apologize to her…later. Cher’s fancied me since nursery. She’s stalwartly refused to believe I’m gay. No matter how many times I, or a hundred other people tell her. And I, it seems am a horrible person. I just…I do stupid things when I get nervous.” Harry secures the tins of Carling into the crook of his elbow, and puts a palm over his face, peeking out at Liam from between his fingers.

“Why were you nervous?” Liam asks.

“You make me nervous.” Harry says, pushing himself away from the wall and stumbling through the gravel car park.

“I do? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous. I thought we were having such a laugh, you know with all the text and the emails and such. Tell me what I’m doing to make you nervous and I’ll stop, promise.” Liam easily catches up with Harry who stops dead at the copse of alders at the back of the lot.

“Oh god, don’t make me say it.” Harry awkwardly tromps through the trees and then, having downed the beer he’s got open, tipsily pops the tab on another and sets the rest down on the low rock wall separating the car park from the meadow beyond. He takes a deep breath and, green eyes wide and clear in the light from the summer moon says, “You’re just you Liam. And I fancy you like I didn’t know anyone could fancy a person. And I’m nervous you won’t ever fancy me back.” Harry scrambles over the wall, collecting the remaining beer and then sets off at an awkward loping run through the uneven grass.

Catching up to Harry is no challenge for Liam and once he does, Harry plonks himself down onto the soft grass. He stares up at the clear black of the night sky and says, “I’m an idiot. Ignore me. I’ve made you feel awkward too. Perhaps you and Cher can form a club for survivors of being awkwardly hit on by Harry Styles,” he hiccups then and laughs, a terrible, sad noise.

Liam sits down beside him, picking grass off the knees of Harry’s trousers and tucking a wayward violet into his curls. “Maybe I don’t want to ignore you, Harry.” Liam says quietly, twisting blades of grass between his fingers. “Maybe I can’t. Maybe I think you’re the most interesting, loveliest person I’ve ever met. Maybe I can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe we can be awkward idiots who do stupid things together. Because what I came here hoping to tell you is that I think, in time I could maybe grow to fancy you rather a lot.”

Liam leans in, his large warm hand on Harry’s shoulder and before Harry can even think of how to respond, Liam’s lips are on his, a slight careful pressure and this doesn’t feel stupid or awkward or like he’s indulging Harry or letting him down easy. It feels like a promise, like a start. And Harry wants more.

They sit in the field their mouths pressed together, staring into each other’s eyes in quiet shock. Harry finally says a breathy ‘oh’ and winds his arms around Liam’s neck, the cans of beer sliding out of his hold and onto the grass. He pulls Liam closer and smiles, sucking Liam’s bottom lip between his own.

* * *

There’s a frantic banging on the fire door, interrupting Louis’ next dare for Niall. So far Niall has eaten all the weird things Louis has concocted, drunk all the weird drinks Louis’ had the barman mix, and used all the cheesy stupid chat up lines Louis’ composed. The best one earning Niall a slap across the face from Ms Flack, the year ten photography teacher.

Louis is bored, which is why he doesn’t ignore the frantic knocking, but goes to answer the door instead.

“Oh god! Oh god!” Liam is running his hands through his hair, tugging at it and frantically motioning to Louis, and Niall just behind him. “Oh god, it’s Harry, you have to come I don’t know what to do!”

The three boys take off running and Niall asks, “Is it his asthma? He likes to pretend he doesn’t need his inhaler and never has it with him..”

“No, no…” Liam leads them through the trees and into the meadow beyond. “It’s just he’s crying and I can’t get him to stop and I…” Liam slows to a stop when he realizes the other two boys are staring at him.

“Oh. Crying, you say?” Louis bites his lip to keep the knowing smirk off his face.

Liam makes an impatient gesture, trying to get them to move. “Yes, yes. I, well…I kissed him. And then he started crying and well…”

“Ah,” Niall says knowingly. “That’s Hazza for ya. Full of feelings, that lad.”

Blinking and bent forward to catch his breath, Liam asks, “So like, this is a thing? Like a normal Harry thing that he does, often?”

Louis waggles his head back and forth and the three of them start up their walk across the field. “Well, nothing Curly does can strictly be classified as normal, but yeah. If he’s really happy, or really sad, or really upset: tears. Loads and loads of snotty tears. Especially if he’s trollied.”

“Oh,” Liam sighs in something like relief. Then, looking down at his feet he says, “Oh dear,” and kicks at one of the beer cans. “This is where I left him.”

Niall picks up the lager and hands them round. “Li, mate I know you said you don’t drink, but trust me when I say you’re going to need something stronger than cola to get you through.” Liam stares at the beer in his hand, considering, and then watching as both Louis and Niall take long swallows from their own, swallows and does the same.

“Hazza! Come on now it’s time to go home!” Louis calls out across the field.

“Lou?” a pathetic little sniffle rings out in the darkness, not too far from where they’re standing.

Louis takes off in the direction Harry’s voice had come from, saying in his best, most soothing voice, “That’s right babe, me and Niall are here to take you home. Liam came and got us.”

“Liam?” Harry’s voice wobbles and it sounds like they’ve cued a new jag of tears.

“Hey Hazza, we’re… Oh god! Is he naked?” Liam stands with his hands over his eyes, leaning against the trunk of a beech tree.Harry is on his back in the grass, arms and legs starfish wide, and he’s completely nude.

Heaving a long put upon sigh, Louis starts tracing a path around Harry, picking up his clothes as he goes, “Yes sir. Our Harry is, how can I put this delicately? A clothes optional kind of lad.”

“Goes with the drinking. And the crying. Harry would quite literally cry at the drop of a hat after a few pints, I’m pretty sure.” Niall takes the pile of clothes from Louis and crouches down, murmuring soothing things in Irish.

“Hat?” Harry sniffles, “Someone’s dropped a hat? But what if their Nanny made if for them and it’s their favourite? And now it’s just left in the dirt to get rained on.” Large silvery tears drip down Harry’s cheeks and off his chin as Liam and Louis help him to sit up.

“No no darling, there’s no hat. It’s alright now.” Liam uses the tails of his button up to wipe away the tears and mucous from Harry’s face and nose.

The three of them manage to get Harry’s lumbering frame to his feet and Niall says in a sing song voice, “C’mon Harry, time to get your kit on,” and hands him his pants.

Liam says a quiet, “Jesus,” under his breath and turns away, taking a long swallow of beer.

“He doesn’t get like this often,” Louis says, his fierce blue eyes studying Liam’s face. “He’s the sweetest person I know. He tries to laugh it off when people hurt him, but I know. I see it all. And I don’t laugh.”

Louis is acting like this is some kind of exchange about the weather, but Liam takes it for what it is and says, “Everyone does stupid things every once in a while. Doesn’t make them a bad person, or someone I’d not want to be around.” With that he turns back to Harry, holding out his shirt and helping him ease into it. He smiles when Harry darts forward to peck a kiss to his cheek. Embarrassed, Liam takes another sip of beer and says, “There ya go, Hazza.”

* * *

“Jesus blinding Christ Liam, how can someone get so thoroughly blattered off of one and a half tins of light fucking lager?” Louis glares angrily into the rear view mirror, watching as Harry and Liam giggle and cuddle and pay no attention to him at all. “Are you sure none of these houses look familiar? I swear I’ve driven ‘round the village a dozen time now, on every street.”

“Not my house Lou, sorry.” Liam giggles into Harry’s collar bones.

Harry, considerably more sober than he was a few hours ago, pets at Liam’s hair and says, “Liam is an elite athlete, Louis. He doesn’t touch alcohol on the reg. So of course he’d be a light weight.”

“And I’ve only got one kidney!” Liam supplies helpfully. “Well, I’ve got two but one’s a bit dodgey.”

“One kidney! C’mon fellas, what did you do? Pour the beer down his throat?” Harry makes tutting noises and snuggles Liam in closer.

Louis eyes snap from the rear view to the passenger seat, where Niall has just leaned over to turn the radio up. “You have got to be fucking joking.” He gives a withering glance to Niall as the tinny radio signal version of Zayn Malik’s new single In Your Eyes fills the sedan. “I’ll be buggered sideways with a railroad tie if I’ll have this shite played in my car!”

“It’s a good song, Lou.” Niall protectively shields the radio dial, and they’ve reached the twisting turns of the Holmes Chapel Road, so Louis has no choice but to keep both hands on the wheel.

“The original is superior in every single way. And I fail to see why everyone is creaming their pants over Zayn Malik, all he does is cover songs. It’s a mockery of modern pop music, really.”

Liam giggles adorably, causing Harry to kiss his cheek. “S’my favourite song.” Liam mutters dreamily.

“Mine too!” Harry goes to high five Liam and instead they end up in a giggling, flailing heap.

Slapping at the steering wheel with his palms, Louis says through clenched teeth. “Liam, if you could please focus on the housing tract to your left it would be greatly appreciated. We have been driving ‘round Holmes Chapel for bloody wankering hours, and I would like to be in my bed before daylight. Which is quite literally on the horizon. Surely one of these houses has to be yours?” he stops the car, hands still wrapped firmly around the steering wheel so he doesn’t climb over the seat and throttle the life out of his best mate’s brand new boyfriend.

Liam sits up and swipes his hand over his face. Then with the gravity of the truly trollied, reaches his hand over the front seat to squeeze at Louis’ shoulder. “Lou,” he says, voice low and serious, “I live in Crewe.” That said, he leans over and yarks the entire contents of his stomach all over the car floor.

* * *

“Napoleons, Haz? Really?” Niall glares with disgust into the bakery box Harry’s set onto the bar. “Cases full of fern tarts and fairy cakes and empire biscuits and you bring me fecking Napoleon slices.” He pokes a cautious finger at the pastry. “What’s with the English and their love of custard anyway? Bloody typical, that is.”

Ignoring Niall’s tirade, Louis stretches himself across the bar top and helps himself to a tin of lager. Harry smacks the swell of his bum and laughing at the resulting squawk, says apologetically, “It was all I could nick without Barbara noticing.” He shrugs and takes a huge bite out of his custard slice.

“Shame, really.” Niall salutes them and downs his shot of Jameson. Sighing, he shrugs and takes one of the offending pastries, shoving more than half of it into his mouth. “So now that you and ol’Leemo are all in love and shit what ya gonna do now?” he asks Harry, who has popped the tab on his own can of beer and smooths down his red bakery uniform top, fidgeting on the bar stool.

Before Harry can answer, Louis snorts loudly. “Love! Ha! What a load of bullocks that is.” He slams his beer can down on the bar and scowls.

“Oh god. How long have the pair of ya been at it? And please, Niall, tell me you haven’t been feeding him the Jameson’s. You know how he gets maudlin as shite on brown liquor.” Harry picks up the empty shot glass at Louis’ elbow and gives it a sniff before throwing it at Niall. He catches it deftly and sets it beside the register where he’s stood behind the bar.

“No one can deny the Tommo charm,” Niall smiles sheepishly, his arms held wide in apology.

“Love is a lie,” Louis carries on like Harry and Niall haven’t interrupted his conversation. “And the people who say they love you are liars.” He nods sagely at his own wisdom.

Harry thumps his head to the gleaming oak bar top and says with exaggerated despair, “Oh boy, here we go. You couldn't have just kept him on the Smirnoff Ice?”

Louis stumbles to his feet, carefully cradling his beer as he lurches across the bar. “Love is an excuse we sad pathetic humans use to separate ourselves from the animal kingdom.” He plunks himself down at the old piano Harry’s mum had placed in the corner of the pub when she’d bought the place because she thought the pretty little upright added character. Harry is fairly certain this is not what she meant by that.

Setting his beer beside him on the bench, and his hands curled over the keys, Louis says with conviction, “Love is just a pathetic attempt to elevate our most base urges. But really, it’s only just fucking. Like all the other animals. People say they love you, they fuck you, then they leave you. And that is just how it is.” Louis nods along to the rhythm of his words, plucking out a simple melody.

“Zayn had no idea about your feelings, Lou. Because you never told him. And he didn’t leave you. His mum signed him up for X Factor. He’d no idea he’d make it through.” Harry turns to scowl at Louis.

“Yes, but then he abandoned me to be Mr Oooh Look At Me I’ve Won X Factor Now I’m a Huge Fucking Wanker of an International Pop Star, didn’t he?”

Niall brings Louis another beer and claps him companionably on the shoulder. “He didn’t abandon you Lou. He’s just busy now. He tries, but you don’t return his texts or calls. What do you want him to do?”

Undeterred, Louis plucks at the keys with more determination. “Oh here we go,” Harry rests his face in his palms and mumbles, “Thirty seven songs about Zayn Malik and all of them sound like pinging Keyboard Cat.”

Lurchingly waving an index finger in the air, Louis announces, “Thirty eight, Harold!” then, takes a messy slurp from his beer, and launches into song. “Zayn, oh Zayn. Why? Why oh why was your love a lie?” Louis sways to the tune, head back and eyes closed. He continues to sing, obnoxiously loud in the tiny snug, much to the pain and discomfort of everyone else in the place, “Even your name is a lie! Everyone who knows you knows there’s no ‘Y’!”

Niall smacks a messy kiss to the crown of Louis hair, and stands up from the bench, collecting their empties and heading back to the bar. He flops down onto a worn velvet stool beside Harry, and with a glance back at Louis, who is now just plunking out a slightly out of tune Heart & Soul. “Our mate is some fucked up, eh?”

Harry just sighs sadly and rolls his tin of Carling back and forth between his palms. “For someone who claims to find feelings ridiculous, he certainly has rather a lot of them all rattling round his ribcage, doesn’t he?” Harry takes a long pull of his drink.

“Yeah. Suppose he’s not going to want to come to Zayn’s show with us, is he then?” Niall swipes at the bar rail with the cloth he keeps tucked in his apron, then squeezes himself between the pass through and back behind the bar again.

“Oh I’m sure he wants to. Whether he lets himself get what he wants is another story entirely. I say what he doesn’t know might fix his broken heart.” Harry blinks slowly. “Mentioned it to Li the other day when we were texting. He’s going to try for tickets too.” Harry tries and fails to hide his besotted grin behind his beer can.

Niall’s blue eyes crinkle up when he teases, “Aww, you two are so cute. I’m glad it’s working out for ya”

“It just might do!” Harry grins and raises his beer in salute.

* * *

Harry yawns wide and gawping and he clumsily shuffles down the stairs, duvet clinging to his hips. “Mornin’ Nialler.”

“Heya Haz. Yer mum and Robin left for the courts already, they wanted to get good seats.” Niall catches the toast as it pops free from the toaster. “Toast?”

Scratching at his hip, Harry says, “Ta. You want a brew?” he flicks the kettle on and gets out mugs and teabags, poking around in the draining board until he finds a spoon.

“Y’got jam out already?” Harry shuffles over to Niall and rests his chin on Niall’s shoulder.

Niall flicks him off and says, “’course, what do you take me for?”

They sit at the table quietly munching on toast and when the kettle clicks off, Harry shuffles over and gets their mugs. Harry smiles at the realization that he knows how all his friends take their tea as he splashes a little milk in Niall’s cup, keeping the tea bag in as he hands it over. He wonders how Liam takes his?

“You ready for today?” Niall asks accepting his tea with a smile.

“Well it’s here if I’m ready or not. It is what it is.” Harry sprinkles a little sugar in his mug and then clinks the spoon in it. Noisily stirring it around and around and around until Niall presses his hand to Harry’s wrist.

“What it is is the championships for your age group. That’s amazing Harry.” Niall beams at him.

Harry laughs, shifting in his seat to keep the duvet from falling all the way to the floor. “Mmm..suppose for those who care it’s amazing.”

“You don’t care?” Niall blinks at him in confusion.

Sighing, Harry takes a mouthful of tea and then winces at the burn. He does it every time. Apparently he’ll never learn. “No I mean, of course. I like being good at it. I like winning and it makes Mum and Robin happy.” His shoulder twitches and he scratches across his torso. “But like, that and a ticket will get me on the bus, really.”

Niall makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat and then looks over Harry’s shoulder at the clock on the range. “Speaking of buses, you’d best get your kit on, we’ve to head out shortly.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry stands up and stretches back cracking and breath creaking. “Niall? “

“Mmm?” Niall smile is crusted with toast crumbs and blobs of rhubarb jam.

“Thanks, you know, for not thinking badminton is stupid.”

Niall scoffs and sips from his mug. “Course, you’re amazing, Harry.” Niall’s phone pings with a text announcement and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Lou’s stuck making breakfast for the biddies down at the burger van this morning, but he’ll be up to the courts as soon as he can.”

Harry turns from where he’s walked over to the sink, raises his arms, and cheers, “Yay!” letting the duvet fall to the floor as he bends over to pluck his badminton whites out of the dryer.

“Jaysus Hazza! Cover up in the name of all that’s holy!” Niall covers his eyes, his face a deep, scandalized red to the tips of his very blond hair.

“Why? Can’t deal with all this temptation?” Harry wriggles his hips and laughs when his cock, heavy against his hip, bobs along to the movement. “Fancy a go?”

“Christ no, I’m sure your mick is lovely, were I into that sort of thing, and your Liam is a very lucky man, no doubt. But please put on your pants, you’re puttin’ me off m’breakfast.” Niall turns his face up to do a very thorough exploration of the plastered ceiling.

Cackling Harry hops into his underpants and then his white shorts. As he’s pulling his white tennis shirt over his head he says, “I think I’m going to ask Liam to fuck me today,” in a thoughtful, conversational tone.

Niall coughs and sputters taking up a piece of kitchen roll to catch the tea that spews from his mouth. “Uh. Oh. Yeah? Well, Slainte to that, I suppose.”

Harry laughs, his cheeks pink with the admission. “Thanks,” he swipes his curls out of his face and is tossing clothes back and forth in the dryer looking for the mate to the sock he’s got held in his hand.

“You…you’re…you’ve not done that, before?” Niall raises an eyebrow at Harry.

“Nope. Li neither. We’ve done…you know other…stuff. And it’s great. Really great, actually. But I just, I feel like the time is right to, you know. Take it to the next level.”

Niall walks over to the sink and plucks up the sock from where Harry’d flung it searching through the load of whites. “You seem pretty sure.”

“Very sure.” Harry nods, then takes the offered sock. “Thanks.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure.” Niall sets his tea down on the work top. “You uh…got stuff?”

“Course,” Harry walks over and shakes his rucksack at Niall, smiling sweetly. “Niall? Could you, could you maybe not tell Lou? He’ll be mad.” Harry sits on the stairs to tie on his trainers.

Squeezing himself onto the step beside Harry, Niall hugs him and says, “Whatever you want, Haz. But I don’t think he’d be mad. Liam makes you happy. That’s all anyone who loves you wants, yeah?”

“But still. I don’t want to be teased. Not about this.” He fits the straps of his rucksack, badminton racket sticking out the top, over one shoulder and grabs his house key from their hook just under the kitchen light.

“I get it. Louis makes a joke of things because he doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings. And you…your feelings and Liam’s feelings, that’s for you lads.” Niall places their dirty dishes in the sink and follows Harry out the door. “Liam gonna be there today?”

Harry hands Niall his extra oyster card when they get close to the bus stop. “Nah, he’s got some pre-qualifier qualifier over in Chesterfield today. I’m going to go by his place later though. Mum and Robin think I’m going to the club end of season party.”

“Hrm,” Niall says, which isn’t really anything at all.

“What?” Harry takes his aviators out of the small pocket on the front of his bag and plonks them on his face.

Niall sits on the bus stop bend and sighs, squinting into the early morning sun. “It’s just, your mam is pretty amazing. You sure you want to lie to her? I mean she’s never even met Liam has she?”

Harry’s face contorts into something painful at Niall’s words, “It’s not actually a lie. I’m going to a party. A me and Li party,” Harry shrugs weakly. “And I mean, Liam’s so busy with work and training I hardly see him so…I keep asking him if he wants to come for Sunday lunch. He keeps saying he’ll try…”

“Okay, Hazza. Okay.” Niall pats Harry’s thigh and smiles. “I’d say good luck in the tourney today, but I doubt you’ll need it. You always win.”

* * *

Harry walks slowly up Coach Cowell’s drive. He lets himself into the side door of the garage and stops. Liam is working with the heavy bag today, hands taped and punching hard. Harry takes in the long lean lines of his back, the bunched muscles of his biceps and the way his entire upper body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Harry’s sure he’s had wet dreams that started like this.

Liam’s got his ear buds in so Harry knocks on the bonnet of the coach’s Malibu, not wanting to startle him. “Oh, hey!” Liam catches the bag and turns to smile at Harry.

Harry reaches out a hand to caress the shape of every muscle that’s clearly defined in Liam’s arm. “S’there a veterinary around here?” He asks seriously?

Confused Liam says slowly, “You know, I’m not sure. Don’t have any pets here so never had to think about it. Why?”

Harry bites his lip trying to keep from laughing when he says, “Cause these pythons are sick!” He cackles, tracing the vein that runs across Liam’s bicep.

“Good lord. That was bad, even for you. Which I feel is saying a lot,” but Liam is laughing, his eyes soft. “So, how’d it go today? Thought I’d get a text from you ages ago!”

“Yeah, busy with Mum and Robin. They don’t like it when I bring my phone to the table and they took me to Pizza Express for lunch.”

Using his teeth to loosen his hand wrappings, Liam smiles and says, “A victory lunch I hope?” He scrunches the pile of tape into a ball and throws it into the bin, doing a little victory wave when it goes straight in.

“Came in second,” Harry shrugs like it barely matters and hands the fluffy white towel that’s hung on a rack beside his track jacket.

“Amazing!” Liam wipes quickly at his face, arms and torso then comes over to peck a kiss to Harry’s cheek. Harry turns into the touch, winding his arms around Liam’s neck and sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Tch, I’m all sweaty and smelly.”

Harry laughs and lowers his head to Liam’s neck, licking a stripe and taking a long sniff. “I like it.” He bites the tendon in Liam’s neck making Liam laugh and groan all at the same time.

“Weirdo,” Liam says, but it’s gentle with affection.

“You like it!” Harry laughs as Liam scoops him up, squeezing Harry’s bum with both hands.

“It’s true! I do,” Liam nods and then tilts his head, kissing Harry until they’re both breathing hard and Harry’s lips are cherry red and swollen from where Liam’s sunk his teeth into their fullness.

Tracing his finger along the sharp rise of Liam’s collar bone, Harry says, cautiously, “Soooo, I’ve been thinking.”

“Have you? Should I be afraid? Are you about to unleash your entire arsenal of truly terrible knock-knock jokes?” Liam sits down on the bumper of the Coach’s car, cuddling Harry close in his lap.

He bites his lip, chuckling quietly but then, voice a low serious whisper says, “You know how we’ve been doing stuff? Like your mouth and my hands and it’s like, really great right?” His big green eyes are wide and sincere and he nervously flicks the hair at Liam’s collars with his long, twisting fingers.

“Ehm, well yes.” Liam’s eyes widen in surprise but then focus on Harry and how nervous he is. “Really great. Amazing. I love how you feel Harry; how you make me feel.” He kisses Harry then, soft but firm, and his mouth trails from Harry’s lips to his neck, sucking a lovebite just above the polo collar of his shirt.

“Okay,” Harry lets out his breath in a noisy exhale. “Because lately, I’ve been thinking about you. Like, dreaming about you. How you’d feel if, like, what it would be like if we were to have, you know, proper full on sex, together. You and me.”

Liam closes his eyes and swallows hard. He presses his forehead to Harry’s temple, trying to will his lungs and his brain and his mouth to work. “I…I’ve thought about that too. I want that, Harry. So much. With you.”

“Okay!” Harry clambers out of Liam’s lap and opens the zip of his rucksack.

“Oh!” Liam’s eyes look as though they might pop out of his head and his eyebrows have disappeared into his hair. “You mean, like now? Here?”

Biting his lip as his thick eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, Harry says, “Uh huh. I miss you really bad Li. I can’t stop thinking about it.” He opens the car door, “and I know for a fact this model has fully reclining seats!” He smirks and then yelps out a laugh as Liam tackles him, picking him up and twirling him around before, careful of his head, bouncing him into the car.

* * *

After, when Harry’s wrapped in Liam’s arms, Liam wipes away the few tears that leak from the corners of his eyes and says, “Shh darling, shh. I’ve got you. You’re alright. I didn’t hurt you did I?” Harry shakes his head, his curls sliding against the soft skin of Liam’s shoulder. “You’re shaking, are you cold? There’s a blanket in the boot shall I get that?” Liam rubs Harry’s arms, trying to brush away the goose pimples.

Liam fusses and clucks at Harry, his voice somewhere between panic and concern when he asks, “Are you certain you’re okay? What can I do? Tell me please, I just want to make this okay.”

Burrowing close into Liam’s side, Harry nuzzles at Liam’s neck and, eyes closed, says, “Hold me. Just hold me Liam. Just like this.”

“Okay,” Liam frets, “okay.”

* * *

“Hello darling,” Anne looks up smiling as she wipes her hands on a tea towel. “Did you have a nice time at your party?” She sets a salad bowl into the draining board in the island worktop and flicks the kettle’s switch. “Harry?” He voice switches to confused concern as she looks up and sees Harry leaning against the kitchen door jam—staring at the floor in silence.

He chews his bottom lip and then says in a slow, quiet voice, “I didn’t go to a party,” while continuing to stare at the floor and refusing to meet his mother’s eyes.

“Didn’t…Harry?” Her perplexed expression deepens. “You lied to me and to Robin? That’s not on, sweetheart. Where ever have you been all night, then?” She rounds the worktop and slowly approaches doorway.

Harry still hasn’t moved and won’t look up. His shoulders are heaving and he blows out a breath, finally answering her. “I spent the night with Liam,” Harry says in a shaky, low voice.

Everything about him says her baby is in some kind of pain, so Anne reaches for him and Harry curls into her embrace, burying his face in her neck and curling his arms around her waist like he used to do when he was little and upset

The realization of what Harry’s just told her hits Anne like a tidal wave and her eyes go wide with shock. She pulls Harry close to her, her hand rubbing up and down his back under his t-shirt over and over in a soothing, gentle motion. “Oh, baby,” she whispers, guiding them both to the small sofa in the conservatory. She gathers him close to her, rocking him and humming calming nonsense-pieces of nursery rhymes and lullabies and Stevie Wonder songs into the wild tangle of his hair while Harry snuffles against the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his tears soaking her sweater.

Using a gentle, always gentle, finger under his chin, Anne meets his tear-filled mossy glance with her own clear green. “He didn’t force you did he?” an icy ball of dread rolls into being in the pit of her stomach as she slides her thumb across his cheek. ”Did this Liam person hurt you?” her voice is fierce and protective.

“No. No no. Nothing like that at all.” Harry sits up, scrubbing his tear stained face across the crook of his elbow, embarrassed and dashing away the tears still streaking his face. “I just—I suppose I fancied I’d be better at it, that I’d be good at it, you know? And I wasn’t. Not at all.” His chin wobbles and he stretches out on the settee-head against his mother’s lap. “I was awkward and awful.” Harry draws in a deep breath as Anne cards her fingers through the spill of his dark curls. “And Liam probably hates me now. Probably thinks I’m some stupid weird kid he never wants to speak to again, never mind see.” He adds with a tone of grave finality.

Anne’s fingers still in their petting and she only narrowly manages to bite her lip, stifling the laugh that bubbles up at her relief and Harry’s melodramatics. “Well, I know you’re my baby and I may be biased, but I have it on good authority that you are a kind, sweet, loving boy.” Harry snorts but doesn’t open his eyes, instead pushing up into Anne’s touch. “And, if your Liam can’t see that and appreciate it, well then he’s not worth your time or your tears, now is he?”

Harry rolls over, his arm thrown over his head, against the back of the sofa. “But Mum, it hurts. It hurts so much. Like, I think about him and I think about—you know—and it feels like my chest is caving in and I can’t breathe.”

Anne can’t hide her smile. She curls forward and presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “That, my darling, is why they call it a crush. I can assure you, as painful as it seems, it’s never fatal.”

Harry’s cheeks pink and he blinks slowly up at his mother, stifling a yawn. “S’not a very nice feeling,” he mumbles.

“You know what else isn’t a very nice feeling?” Anne arches her brow and makes sure to hold Harry’s gaze. “Being lied to by your baby boy whom you love and trust, very much.” She sighs at Harry’s stricken expression. “Usually you’d be grounded for fibbing, but you seemed to have—suffered from your own consequences here this time.” Harry’s face is apologetic as he opens his mouth to speak. But Anne gives a quick tug to his curls and holds up a hand. “However, we are going to have a talk, about safer sex and responsible behaviour and making good choices for yourself.”

“Mum!” Harry’s cheeks burn and he sits up fast.

“Don’t you mum me, Harry Edward. If you’re grown up enough to be having sex, you’re grown up enough to have a real, serious discussion about how to keep yourself safe and the consequences if you don’t.”

Harry grumbles and whines, getting to his feet. He’s prevented from fleeing by Anne’s grip on the hem of his grotty t-shirt. “Also, I think your step-dad and I would like to meet this Liam person of yours. Why don’t you have him call round for Sunday lunch?”

“Mum!” Harry whines, eyes wide and pleading.

“I mean it, Harry. I don’t like you hanging out with boys I’ve not met. I do hope that Louis and Niall know this boy?” Harry nods and Anne feels a bit better about the whole thing. She places a soothing hand at the nape of Harry’s neck and gives it a little squeeze. “For now, why don’ t you go have a bit of a lie down?” The kettle in the kitchen clicks off , and Anne releases Harry, but not before pressing a messy, loud kiss to the side of his head. “G’won with y’then. I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

* * *

When Harry wakes he’s unsure how much time has passed, but the sky outside is purple and soft with the glow of early midsummer twilight, and the mug of tea he finds set on his nightstand has gone stone cold. He makes a face as he forces himself to swallow the mouthful he’s gulped, then paws at his shorts in search of his phone.

His hair is a riot of bed head—some of his curls going every which way, while others are pressed flat to his head. He’s been wearing the same clothes for more than twenty four hours and his contact lenses feel like they’ve been dipped in sandpaper and glued to his eyes. He stretches and yawns, bringing his phone up to his face. He has three missed calls and two texts, all from Liam. The text simply says:-Misssss yoooooo <3

and Harry can’t stop the grin that threatens to split his face apart. He banishes all immediate thoughts of a shower as he stretches out on his bed and taps out a reply-You do???

-corse ya nutter what ya doin?

-nothing. You?

-missing you what ya think Liam’s reply comes back almost the second Harry’s hit send on his own.

His heart actually flutters in his chest when he reads it and he has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to steady himself. He types-silly soppy sod :D carefully, one hand curled over his ridiculous, cheesy grin. Kind of in trouble for staying out tho

-as punishment rents want u to come for sun lunch. said I’d ask. Ok if u don’t want 2

There’s a very long pause but Liam finally replies-that snds nice?

gd fam r horbs so embarrassing bring swm trunks

-yr fam tak sun lunch in barthing suits???

-no ya donut, stepdad has pool

-A POOL???

-yep :D

-ooh la la kin I pet ya poloponies whilst I’m @it?

Harry laughs long and loud at that, then replies-you can pet my anything you want <3

!!! must run-like actual running training innit

Still laughing Harry texts backLOL c u tomorrow @2 u taking bus or train? Will send sched for both xx

* * *

“Ya having a problem?” Niall says bluntly as he sucks a dripping ice lolly into his mouth.

“I just want to look nice, okay?” Harry fusses with the hem of his long sleeved tee and twists back and forth in the full length mirror on the back of his wardrobe door.

“I can’t believe your mum’s idea of punishing you for fucking your secret boyfriend is to have him for Foxy Coxy roast dinner." Harry had been worried how Louis would react to finding out that he and Liam had sex, but he was sweet and lovely and didn’t take the mickey too much, and Harry was reminded why they’d become so close so quickly.

“Yeah Haz, if I’d have known that’d be the result, I woulda rogered ya ages ago.” Niall pipes up, lolly dripping all over Harry’s pale blue bed sheets.

“Eww,” both Harry and Louis make sounds of disgust, kicking Niall off the bed and onto the floor.

Niall just shrugs and sits up. “So, like, you went straight to the full out bonking? No handies, no blowies, just…?”

He’s cut off abruptly by Harry. “Don’t be crass, the pair of you. I am not discussing what Liam and I do or do not do, it’s private.”

“Well now, aren’t you suddenly Mr. Private and Sensitive? The Labradoodle must be rubbing off on you.” Louis kicks at Harry’s khakis, leaving a sandy footprint on his thigh.

“I bet he is!” Niall waggles his eyebrows and cracks himself up.

Harry tsks under his breath and swipes at the mark on his trousers. “You lot need to shove off. I’ve to meet Li at the bus stop in a few.” He glowers and holds the door open wide.

“Your mum always makes enough to feed an army. Surely she wouldn’t notice if we stuck ‘round.” Niall smiles hopefully up at harry while remaining sprawled on the floor.

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted.” Louis sniffs in mock upset.”C’mon Nialler, my Auntie’s gone to Manc for the day. There’s a bottle of vodka begging for our attention in her liquor cabinet.” Louis stands up from where he’s been twirling round and round in Harry’s desk chair to haul Niall up next to him. “Who needs a roast of beef when there’s mixed drinks to be had?”

“Me?” Niall pouts pathetically.

“Leave H alone with the Labradoodle, if that’s what he wants.” Nose held high in the air, Louis marches through the door, Niall at his heels.

“I’ll get Mum to save you some, we can all bike over to get ice creams later!” Harry calls before turning back to his reflection and fussing with his collar.

* * *

Harry bangs through the door, leading Liam by the hand. “Mum! This is Liam!” he yells loudly.

Anne comes into the reception room, spatula in her hand. “Hello sweetheart,” she smiles wide and bright, so much like Harry’s smile that it makes a clearly nervous Liam feel slightly more calm.

“Hi Mrs Styles, it’s lovely to meet you.” Liam stammers, gripping Harry’s hand so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Actually, it’s Cox.” Anne smiles as she shakes Liam’s outstretched hand, charmed.

“Erm, sorry Mrs. Cox,” Liam grimaces in embarrassment.

Chuckling, Anne says “And it’s Ms. How bouts you call me Anne? Easy?”

Harry groans and Liam fidgets and gives a wary chuckle. “Yes m’am er…Anne,“ he amends seeing Harry’s mum open her mouth to object.

“Harry would you and Liam please set the dining table for the five of us?” She points the spatula towards the formal dining room as she heads back to the kitchen. Turning back to the boys she says, “Robin should be back from the bakery shortly. He’s just gone to pick up the cake someone was a little too excited by your visit to remember, Liam.” Anne smiles sweetly as Liam blushes and Harry flushes pink in embarrassment.

* * *

“Thank you so much for having me, Anne and Robin. This is absolutely delicious. Don’t get much home cooking these days.” Liam says enthusiastically heaping his plate with roast beef and potatoes.

Passing him the gravy, Anne smiles and says, “You’re so welcome, sweetie. Does your mum not have time to cook for you?”

Wiping his mouth politely with the cloth serviette in his lap, Liam says, “Mum and Dad are over in Wolverhampton. I’m billeting with Coach Cowell whilst working up to the Olympic trials. S’mostly protein shakes and pasta for me now.

“Well, I’m happy to cook for you any time, Liam. And if you’re missing your mum too badly I’m always happy to give you a hug or have you bend my ear.” She refills his water glass.

Liam sits stunned for a moment, his throat working reflexively until he manages, “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

“It must be difficult to balance such intensely focused training with your school work,” Harry’s step-dad says while collecting the dirty dishes from everyone for Gemma to take into the kitchen .

“Oh, no sir. I mean Gemma does an ace job of it but I’ve never really had the head for academics. Finished my BTECs and got the fu…and finished up, didn’t I?”

Harry smiles reassuringly at Liam and prompts, “Tell them what your area of study was Li.”

“Audio engineering. I’ve always liked music and thought perhaps after I’ve done all the running I can I’d like to work in a studio somewhere, recording er..records.” Liam’s eyes light up when he talks about music and Harry takes his hand under the table.

Robin clears his throat noisily and says, “Yes that does sound interesting, and challenging given the industry these days I suppose. We’re very proud of our girl here and all her successes.” He shoos the cat away from where she’s about to pounce on the single empty chair, and adds in a tone that sounds very much like an afterthought but Harry knows from experience is anything but. “And here I thought I saw in the Chronicle the other week that you’re to head to university in California this autumn.”Harry’s face falls in an expression of confused shock and he makes a nasal sound of distress.

“Oh. Erm. Well, they offered me a spot on their team to train for the school year I suppose…”Liam says awkwardly, fidgeting with his fork—trailing it through the gravy left on his plate.

“H, come get this cake. I’m not your slave!” Gemma yells from the kitchen.

Glad of the distraction, Liam stands quickly, “I’ll get it.”

“I’ll help,” Harry says quietly.

“Harry, I’d meant to tell you, for ages, like right when we met. But then I thought what with twitter and such you already knew.” Liam says all in a rush as he sets his dirty plate on the draining board.

Eyebrow arched in silent concern when she sees Harry’s expression, Gemma wordlessly scrapes Liam’s plate into the bin before slotting it into the dishwasher and stepping back into the dining room. Harry takes the bakery box out of the fridge and opens it, carefully setting the cake on to a glass pedestal plate before he speaks. “Nope. Suppose I missed that one.” He says softly, smile wan.

“Hazza,” Liam’s voice is low and he squeezes at Harry’s shoulder.

“It’s an amazing opportunity and I’m so proud of you.” Harry pecks a kiss to Liam’s cheek.” Suppose we have the entire summer to have fun yet, haven’t we?” He blows out a breath and rolls his shoulders back, his smile forced as he motions for Liam to pick up the cake and server and follow him back to the table.

“Thank you again for inviting me, Anne, and Robin. Your home is lovely and you’re a wonderful cook. Thank you to you too Gemma, for having me. S’pose I’ve been so busy with training I hadn’t realized how much I miss my own family, and my mum’s cooking.”

Anne reaches across the table and squeezes Liam’s hand in hers. “You’re very welcome sweetheart. Consider this your standing invite to Sunday lunch, and hugs are always included when you need them.”

Cake and tea had, Harry stands up and announces, “Liam and I are going for a swim, now!” and standing up, threads their fingers together and drags Liam toward the conservatory and the patio doors that lead out to the back garden.

“Harry! You’ve only just finished your dinner!” Anne says in exasperation.

Harry doesn’t stop walking just throws back, “That whole waiting thirty minutes thing is a myth!”

Concerned, Liam digs his feet in and whispers, “Haz, perhaps we’re being a bit rude?”

Picking up Liam’s rucksack and tossing it at him, Harry grumps, “Well, they’re being embarrassing. We’re going to the bungalow before they can ask any truly distressing questions about our relationship.” Harry whispers back, and starts walking again.

“Young man, there will be absolutely no monkey business whilst you’re out there unsupervised!” Anne raises her voice. “and don’t you think for a single second that the two of you are sleeping out there! Liam may if he wishes to, but Harry you’re expected to sleep in your own bed please!”

Liam’s eyes go comically wide and his cheeks burn when Robin adds, “Don’t think we won’t be checking up on you!”

“Fine! Oh my god! You see—embarrassing!” Harry flicks the latch on the patio doors and they head out through the back garden before his mum and step-dad mortify him further.

As he’s closing the door behind them, Gemma shouts an indignant, “Hey! How come I never got alone time in the bungalow with my boyfriend when I was sixteen?”

To which Harry shouts back “Maybe that’s because you never had a boyfriend when you were sixteen!” Liam tries and fails to keep his loud back of laughter at bay.

“Sorry,” Harry presses a quick kiss to Liam’s cheek as soon as they’re away from the prying eyes of his family.

Waving dismissively, Liam says, “Nah, your family are amazing.” Harry’s only response is to roll his eyes.

“The bungalow is just past those trees at the bottom of the garden.”

Liam’s head swivels round, whiplash fast. “How big is your back garden?” He whistles low in amazement.

“Bout a hectare, I reckon.” Harry scrunches up his nose and squints like he’s trying to solve a quadratic equation.

“How much is a hectare?” Liam runs his free hand over the top of his head, squinting like he’s having sympathetic maths pains.

Harry stops dead and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “Fucked if I know.”

* * *

Liam unpacks his rucksack and eyes Harry nervously, wadding his swim trunks into a ball. “I…uh…is that the loo? I’ll just go change, won’t be a tick.” He mutters heading towards a closed door just off the bungalow’s lounge room.

“Yeah, sure. G’won then.” Harry says absently. Apparently unaffected by modesty, Harry unbuckles his belt and steps out of his trousers, simultaneously yanking his long sleeved t-shirt over his head.

Liam pauses in the doorway, task forgotten as he drinks in the long lines and round softness of Harry’s body. Harry raises a playful eyebrow, one hand on his cocked hip, the other fiddling idly with the long necklace that falls over his collar bones. He snaps at the waistband of his pants. “Get a shift on Payne! There’s water sports to be had!” He cackles manically at the stricken look on Liam’s face as he strips off his socks and throws a towel from the stack piled on the work top at him. Liam slams the door with a groan, Harry’s belly laugh filling the room.

When Liam finally emerges from the loo, Harry purrs appreciatively at the cut of muscle across Liam’s arms, chest and abs. he draws his hand up slowly, tickling across Liam’s sparse chest hair and kissing him deeply. “Been wanting to do that for ages,” Harry sighs happily, linking his fingers behind Liam’s neck.

“Been wanting you to do that for ages,” Liam answers, tugging Harry in close by his hips. He deepens the kiss, the tip of his tongue chasing Harry’s taste across his full bottom lip and inside his mouth. Pulling back to catch his breath and put a little distance between their bare chests, Liam asks, “You gonna swim in your pants? Don’t seem too posh if you ask me.”

Harry smirks, his cheeks deeply dimpled, as he says, “Nope,” and with a cheeky bobble of his head strips his black boxer briefs down his long legs and kicks them away.

His mouth going dry at the sight of Harry’s cock half hard and bobbing the soft plane of his abdomen, Liam stares in open appreciation before saying, in a somewhat scandalised tone, “Harry! You can’t go starkers! What if your parents come to check up on us?”

Harry leans in to pepper kisses along Liam’s jaw and smooths his thumb across the wary lines furrowing his brow. “Robin talks a good game, but it’s all rubbish. My mum wouldn’t let him embarrass me like that.”

“Right, so,” Liam gives Harry’s bum a quick slap and then yells, “Pool time!” before he runs away giggling, Harry hot on his heels.

Harry stops his chase to pick carefully across the gravel that surrounds the walk, pausing gto laugh as Liam yells, “Kowabunga!” and does a headfirst cannonball straight into the deep end of the pool—water splashing everywhere.

Finally making it to the edge of the pool and dipping a cautious toe into the water, Harry says, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Liam? Really?” He makes a face as Liam paddles towards him.

“Course,” Liam huffs as he grips the side of the pool, smiling up into Harry’s face. “Love turtles. Named my pet on Donatello, didn’t I?”

“You’ve a pet turtle?” Harry plonks himself down on the pool steps and traces a droplet of water across the rise of Liam’s collarbone. “And everyone knows Raphael is the best one. Dude.”

Liam chuckles at Harry’s attempt at American valley speak, “Yep, ol’ Donnie’s back in Wolverhampton with my sisters.” His eyebrows waggle as he wraps his hand around Harry’s tickling finger, dragging him into the pool and under the water.

Sputtering and coughing, Harry comes to the surface whipping the wet curtain of his hair back and forth in a shower of droplets. “Heeeey,” he says in a pout when he manages to get his breath back. “It’s on now Payne, you may be able to outrun me on dry land but there’s no escape in the water, I’m like one sixteenth mermaid! I’ll get you, my pretty!” and he makes an awkward, messy dive towards where Liam is still howling.

The spend almost equal amounts of time trying to drown one another as they do soothing their coughing and sputtering with lazy affectionate hugs and soft, careful kisses.

Eventually, Liam climbs out of the pool, hoisting himself out by his flexed forearms. Harry blushes when Liam catches him staring with a soft chuckle. He sprawls on his back, panting and laughing as Harry continues to paddle and splash around. “You’re a proper baby Tarzan,” Liam remarks with a lazy smile.

Harry swims over to Liam, his strokes splashing and uneven, and looks like he’s seconds away from going under for good. “Hey! I’m a fantastic swimmer,” he huffs out a breath, whipping the tendrils of his hair around and resting his chin on the edge of the pool liner. “Hiya,” he says softly, grinning.

“Hey,” Liam says equally as softly. He turns his head to brush his mouth purposefully against Harry’s. The kiss deepens slowly until Liam leans over, hoisting Harry out of the pool and on top of him with a needy groan.

Gasping for breath at the shock of being so easily manhandled, but grinning so wide both of his cheeks are deeply dimpled, Harry hitches his hips away from Liam’s where their erections are rubbing against the painful friction of Liam’s cotton swim shorts. “Sorry,” he smiles, smacking a kiss behind Liam’s ear and rolling off Liam and onto the towel at his side. He lies flat on his back staring up into the blue summer sky and wraps part of the over sized beach towel around his waist, covering himself.

“Sorry for what?” Liam’s voice is a sleepy slur against the sun browned skin of Harry’s shoulder.

Harry’s eyes close and he curls into Liam’s attentions, liking the slight tickle of lips and breath against his skin. “You know, for the like, the sex stuff.” He bites his lip and scratches at his nose in embarrassment, patting around the towel to search for his sunnies without opening his eyes. “Sorry for not being, you know, better at, well--it.”

“Oh Harry; wattaya like?” Liam says with a fond smile. “You were fine, really. I promise.” He busses a kiss to Harry’s burning cheek and then wraps an arm around his shoulder, drawing him close. “Better than, actually. You’re lovely and amazing. And I suppose I reckon first times are always a bit crap, yeah? Can’t never really match up with the movies in our heads.” He nuzzles Harry’s jaw. “I’m glad it was you and me, bumbling round together.”

Harry opens his eyes at that and leans his head against Liam’s, “Or bumming around, as it were.” They both snort at Harry’s awful attempt at a joke. “Anyways, I’m sorry I cried.”

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” Liam’s wide, kind eyes are soft with concern as he pets his fingers through the curling strands of Harry’s hair.

“You didn’t,” Harry nuzzles Liam’s nose. “ was just…”

“Emotional,” Liam chuckles, kissing at Harry’s parted lips, sucking the bottom one between his teeth. “All part of your charms. It’ll be better the next time, I promise.”

“Next time?” Harry can’t keep the wonder and hope out of his voice.

Flopping on to his back once more, Liam talks to the sky, “And perhaps, you know, we can like see if you like it better if we, maybe um…switch?”

Sitting up quickly so the towel dips low across his belly, Harry gapes open mouthed at Liam for long moments before he whoops an enthusiastic “Yes! Oh I’d like that rather a lot, I think.” His fist curls at the still damp waistband of Liam’s swim trunks, pulling their bodies flush together from hips to toes. “But first, I think you should blow me.” He laughs full out and head back at Liam’s scandalized expression. “In the pool,” Harry adds, tugging hard enough to roll the both of them back into the water.

* * *

“A card? Really?” Louis looks snidely over top of his sunglasses. Niall, Louis and Harry have ridden their bikes to the ice cream farm that’s the next property down the road from Harry’s step-dad’s. They’re sprawled in the grass at the side of the roadway, lazily nursing their cones in an attempt to beat the rising heat of the day.

Harry licks his fingers, where pink blobs of his strawberry cone are melting down between his knuckles. “What? I think it’s a lovely gesture. Hardly no one uses the post anymore. I think Liam would find it romantic.”

“The Labradoodle seems simple enough to be dead impressed by shiny things,” Louis licks a wide mouthful off the top of his cone.

“Don’t call him that!” Harry grumps, lazily flailing out an arm to thump Louis in the chest, making him grunt. “And do watch where you’re doing! I’ve only just washed this shirt.” Harry shoves himself away from Louis, his face contorted in disgust. “And honestly, Tiger Tale? who under the age of eighty even orders such a flavour?”

“I’m sorry you have poor taste,” Louis says pointedly, before booping Harry on the tip of his nose with the offending orange and black travesty of an ice cream.

“Oy! Don’t waste food!” Niall gives them both a nasty glare before pulling the bill of his snap back down further over his eyes. “And Harry, I think Liam will love a card. Very romantic.”

Harry’s eyes light up at Niall’s praise. “Yeah I’ve been thinking about it for a while, you know? Telling him how I feel, I mean. Text or email just seem so impersonal and he gets so embarrassed when I try to actually talk about—you know.” He waves his arms around in wide circles, strawberry ice cream flecking the grass. “So what with his birthday coming up and all I thought the sentiment would be perfect.”

“So, what ya going t'write in the card?” Niall crunches down on his waffle cone, but his blue eyes are focused on Harry.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, actually.” Harry flops back into the grass, wiping his sticky hand across the soft green. “The card is simple, straightforward. Mum helped me find one with Superman on it and it just says something like have a super birthday. So I thought I’d go with To Liam,” Harry’s long arms stretch in the air above him as he writes the words on the air, “All the love in my heart and then you know the usual kiss, kiss, Harry.”

Louis laughs unkindly, prompting Niall to kick him in the ankle. “Too much?” Harry asks, worry on his face and in his tone.

“Yes,” Louis snarks, licking his fingers and ticking a fingernail alone the spokes of his bicycle, making the wheel spin.

“Don’t listen to Tommo, Haz. He’s just old and jaded and hates joy. Your card sounds perfect.” Niall thumps a lazy fist to Harry’s shoulder in support.

Harry’s grin is a mile wide. “Yeah?” He leans up on his elbows, ambling to his feet. “C’mon then. Let’s go down to the post office before I lose my nerve.”

* * *

“What?” Harry rustles the sheet out of the way to scratch idly at a blob of come drying on his belly that they must have missed during clean up. He and Liam are tucked up on an air bed in the bungalow and Harry’s been internally debating whether or not to get up and find out if there’s anything edible in the bungalow kitchen. He’s quite pleased with his clever, rather literal work around of his mother’s strict rules: no sleeping in the same bed, no over nights in either of their bed rooms, no being at either Liam or Harry’s house alone.

They’ve been able to sneak away a few times since Harry’s tearful confession to his mum. Always to the bungalow, usually on the battered old sofa, but sometimes Harry drags the air bed in from the pool for a laugh and they’d have a go on that. There was also precious little sleeping.

Liam loves it. Not just because he gets to spend time alone with Harry and the ensuing orgasms. He bikes in from Crewe and swims and he’s become convinced he can see the benefits changing his training regime in his time trials. Harry smiles and call him a right proper triathlete making Liam blush.

“What?” Harry asks again.

“Mmm?” Liam looks up from where he’s been tracing hypnotic circles round and round the faint mole at the corner of Harry’s mouth.

Harry catches Liam’s finger and kisses his knuckle. “S’just you’re staring at me like you’re going to eat me for tea.”

Liam waggles his dark eyebrows and says, “Already done that,” making Harry guffaw loudly and swat at his shoulder. They tussle around on the mattress, wrestling and playing until they end up on the floor.

Rubbing at a tender spot above his ribs Liam insists on repeatedly jabbing, Harry says, “Serioulsy, what gives, Leemo?”

“Hmm,” Liam stops mid-motion, tugging up his swim trunks and saying, “Just been thinking, that’s all.”

“Oh, oh! Look out!” Harry winds the sheet around his nude body and curls up in the corner of the sofa. “Only joking, Li.” Harry adds when he sees Liam’s stricken expression. “C’mon,” he pats at the sofa beside him.

Tugging his shorts into place, Liam curls into Harry’s side, and mumbles all in a rush, “I’m going home to Wolverhampton for my birthday at the week end and I thought it’d be nice if you could come with?”

Harry grins and boops the tip of Liam’s nose. “I’d love to, silly goose. Is that what you were worrying about? Suppose I’ll have to run it by Mum and Robin, but they’re probably see it as the proper thing to do. Can’ t imagine them saying no.”

“Awesome!” Liam pumps his fist and says in a low voice, right at Harry’s ear, “pretty sure no one can say no to you.”

Harry laughs and kisses Liam, “Yes, definitely awesome. I’ll run it by Mum tonight at dinner and send you a text when I know.”

* * *

-Mum says yes. Only fri night tho :((((((( have to take last train back sat pm sun= family time :P

-Awww that nois tho. Yer mum getting tix for 1 night- $$$

-no probo <3 c u fri xx. H

* * *

Harry can sleep anywhere at any time. It’s worse when he’s in the middle of a growth spurt and he spends the entire two hour train trip from Crewe to Wolverhampton sound asleep sprawled on top of Liam, one ear bud in.

“Oy, dickheads! Over here!” a small blonde woman yells at them from down the platform.

Liam sighs but waves his hand in greeting. “My sister-Ruth,” Liam hitches his rucksack higher on his shoulder and picks up Harry’s so harry can focus all his attention and both hands on the bakery box he’s carrying.

When they get close enough, Liam ducks in to kiss his sister’s cheek. “Roo this is my…erm, my friend, Harry.” Harry scowls a little at the introduction but he smiles brightly and says, “Hello!” and shakes the bakery box at her a little.

“Right then, the pair of ye, get a shuffle on, I’ve things to do.” She pops her gum and tugs at the short hem of her skirt. Leading then to a battered old Fiesta, Liam climbs into the back, insisting Harry and his long legs and box full of custard tarts take the passenger seat.

After about five minutes, Harry is convinced this was not out of any sense of politeness but rather self-preservation. Ruth is a menace on the road and Harry’s pretty sure if he’s ever given the option again he’ll insist on the back seat so he doesn’t have to see his death coming.

Ruth pulls the car up to the kerb and momentarily kills the blaring stereo. Harry likes Skrillex as much as the next bloke but he’s frankly shocked that the system in the little Ford is capable of such decibel levels.

“Right, out ya's get I’m off to the Slug & Lettuce,” Ruth waits until the boys and their bags have been mostly deposited onto the pavement before putting the car into gear and pulling away. “and for god’s sake don’t burn the blooming house down by doing what arsehole boys do!” She shouts by way of good bye, and it’s mostly drowned out by a wave of loud drum and bass music.

“Sorry,” Liam blows out a breath.

“Don’t be, she’s lovely.” Harry says with as much sincerity as he can muster.

Liam laughs at that. “Mine’s just over here,” he tips his head towards a neat row of brown brick terrace housing and Harry lopes along happily at his side. Pawing awkwardly in a burnt out light fixture on the stoop, Liam extracts a house key and turns it in the lock. They walk in to a tiny parlour and Liam tosses the key onto a table beside the door and drops their bags onto a small cabbage rose printed sofa. Tugging at Harry's hand, he says, “C’mon, I’m starvin’ marvin.” The kitchen is at the back of the house and after Harry plonks the bakery box onto the counter he looks out the small window over the sink. “There’s a car park in your back garden!” he exclaims.

Liam pulls a face and says, “Suppose there is,” before opening the freezer and taking out a couple of Tesco’s pizzas, holding them up in a question to Harry.

Harry shrugs easily and says, “Sure. Are we not having tea with your parents?”

Busy at the worktop taking the pizzas out of their boxes and setting the heat on the oven, Liam shakes his head. “Nah. Mum’s doing over nights down the hospital and Dad’s gone to the local. Darts, innit? Won’t be back for ages yet.”

“Ah, okay.” Harry walks over to where Liam is staring at the range like it’s some kind of space ship that’s crash landed in the kitchen. Leaning the jut of his chin into the fleshy rise of Liam’s shoulder “Hrm…fourteen whole minutes until our pizzas are ready. However shall we pass the time?”

Liam laughs, his laser focus on the oven timer and the promise of food only interrupted by the nearness of Harry. He turns around, leaning against the counter and says, “I’m sure we can think of something,” as he pulls Harry towards him by his belt loops, pressing their lips together.

They take their pizzas into the lounge room and curl up together, happily munching away and watching Batman Begins, because Harry let Liam choose the film and when Liam chooses the film it’s always Batman Begins except when it’s Toy Story. But Liam had lamented the Payne family’s lack of Toy Story and his copy is back in Crewe, so Batman it is. Harry doesn’t mind much, he’s rather preoccupied with seeing how many hilarious noises he can cause Liam to make whilst he sucks on his ear and neck.

Pizza crusts abandoned on plates on the floor and the credits rolling, Liam raises his head from where he’s been sucking a love bite over Harry’s clavicle to say in a raspy voice, “Hey so do you want see my turtle?”

Harry blinks slowly and flops his hair out of his face. He blinks again and then cracks up. He can’t stop laughing and bats at Liam’s shoulder. “Liam, Liam oh my god!” he chortles

“What? I told you I have a turtle. My turtle, Donatello. D’you wanna see him? He’s really cool.” Liam yawns and stares at Harry who has dissolved into hiccupping laughter.

“You are the sweetest boy,” Harry wraps his arms around Liam in a squeezing bear hug. “Yes, I’d love to see your turtle. And any etchings you might have upstairs whilst we’re at it.” He winks at Liam and smacks a kiss to his cheek. Bending to pick up the pizza dishes Harry carries them through to the kitchen and then follows Liam up the stairs.

Half way up the staircase Liam comes to a dead stop and bursts out laughing, “Oh god. I’m an idiot. I’ve only just realized what I said to you; how it sounds!” His eyes are scrunched up in mirth. “The turtle is not my penis,” he assures Harry solemnly.

“Well damn. There goes my night. Guess I’m not going to throw you over for ol’Donnie after all.” Harry swats Liam on the bum and they race up the stairs together.

Speaking softly to the animal the entire time, Liam lifts him gently out of his terrarium, feeds him some lettuce and then has Harry hold out his palm. “He’s adorable!” Harry exclaims as he watches the turtle chomp at the lettuce in slow motion. They lie on Liam’s narrow bed, feet tangled together as they feed Donatello and chat quietly. “You should get him a mask and little sword.” Harry chortles.

“You seen that one on Tumblr? Someone made all the Ninja Turtles outfits for actual turtles. It was sick.” Liam takes Donatello back and plonks him back into the terrarium, fastening the screen back on top.

Harry watches him, a sleepy smile on his face. “Can’t say as I understand the whole point of Tumblr, really. But that does sound amazing.” He yawns wide, only making a cursory attempt to cover his mouth with his hand.

“We should wash our hands, then I’ll bring the bags up here.” Liam runs his fingers through Harry’s curls as he speaks. “You sleepy?”

“Bit,” Harry budges up into Liam’s petting. “Your Mum going to let us share a bed?”

Liam shrugs and says, “Not here, is she?” he heads for the hallway and into the tiny bathroom he shares with Ruth, Harry’s socks dragging in the carpeting as he follows behind.

Running his hands under the water for a few seconds, Harry’s smile is mischievous when he meets Liam’s eyes in the mirror. “No, she certainly is not!”

Setting their bags beside the bed, Liam unzips his and pulls out a vest and sleep pants. “D’ya reckon I need pyjamas?” Harry watching as Liam strips down. “'cause, I didn’t bring any.”

“Harry! Of course you need pyjamas. This is my Mum’s house!” Liam makes a noise at the back of his throat and tosses a pair of light cotton shorts and a thin t-shirt at Harry’s head. Harry laughs and shakes the t-shirt back and forth in his mouth, growling like a dog. “and don’t make fun of me, I like to have options and I’ve saved you wandering round in the all together giving my mum and sisters a heart attack!” Liam lectures.

When Harry makes no move to change into the clothes Liam has given him, Liam taps his toe expectantly. Harry waves a dismissive hand and says, “I’ll put them on if I’ve to leave the room. For now I’m better like this.” He shimmies out of his basketball shorts, the last of the clothing he’d put on for the day, and holds his arms out to Liam.

Liam easily goes to him, shuffling until they fit on his tiny bed. “You’re a menace,” he says, but his large blunt fingers trace a path, connecting Harry’s freckles and circling his nipple making Harry giggle at the sensation.

Wrapping his arms around Liam’s neck, Harry pulls him over on top of him and whispers. “Oh baby, all the better for you to fuck me on your Batman sheets.”

* * *

Early the next morning Liam and Harry-clad for propriety’s sake in the shorts and t-shirt Liam had provided the night before-troop down the stairs, inhaling the smell of bacon and sausages frying in the kitchen.

“There’s my boy!” Karen, Liam’s mum straightens her glasses and reaches up from her seat at the table to envelop Liam in a giant hug. There are tears in her eyes when she pulls back again. “Goodness me, look how tall and strong you’ve got.”

Liam laughs and says, “Not hardly,” and if his eyes are a little wet as well, well, Harry’s not one to judge. “I’m happy to see you, Mum. Been missing you loads lately. Oh this is my friend Harry. His sister is a team mate. He came down with me last night and is going back up to Cheshire tonight.”

“You’ll have to ask Daddy to drive you, I’ve got to do a bloody double shift, don’t I?” Ruth bangs into the kitchen, fixing her dungarees and tying a bright red kerchief to her head. She grabs a bacon butty from the pile by the stove and shoves it into her mouth as she ties on her work boots and mutters about the “bunch of fuckin’ pissheads, the lot of them.”

“KangaRoo works down t’the airplane factory,” Liam informs Harry helpfully.

“Bye, baby bro. Be good and I hope you get the fuck out of Brum.” Ruth kisses his cheek, leaving behind a smear of bacon grease. “Happy birthday and all that tosh. I’ve put twenty quid in Mum’s card for ye.” And with a wave and a bang of the door, Ruth’s gone.

In the time it’s taken for Ruth to blow through the room, Karen had got up and piled two plates high with breakfast. “Here you are, duck.” She gives Harry a friendly hug and hands him his plate. “We’re so pleased Liam is meeting new people. Suppose Daddy and I imagined him up there all alone and lonely working far too hard.”

“This looks delicious, Mrs Payne, thank you so much for making it for me. I do love a good fry up.” Harry smiles and tucks into his eggs. “Yeah me and Liam have become quite close. He does work way too hard. I like to make sure he…remembers to relax.” Harry takes a huge bite of fried bread and smirks at Liam, who is fidgeting nervously, flicking Harry’s fingers away from where he’s trying to grope him under the table.

Smiling Karen says, “Aren’t you a love?” she bustle over to a china cabinet and picks up an envelope. Straightening the top of her navy blue scrubs, she proudly hands it over to Liam and says, “Happy birthday Liam! We’re gutted we can’t be with you on your big day. But here’s something nice for you anyway.” She kisses the top of his head and looks genuinely like she’s seconds from bursting into tears again.

Liam opens the card and Harry reads it over his shoulder and it’s such a sappy for our son card that he smiles and kisses Liam’s cheek, “Awww…baby boy.”

“Hey!” Liam looks stricken and his eyes dart from his mother back to Harry, but they’re both laughing and Liam sighs. He knows him mum has taken Harry’s actions for a joke, but he suspects that Harry is being his usual subtle as a bag of rocks self, and trying to make a point. Any thoughts Liam has of calling Harry on the carpet for his behaviour dies when he opens the card and a stack of twenty pound notes falls like confetti to the floor. “Mum!” Liam gasps. “This is a bloody fortune! You can’ t give me this!”

“We can and we did!” Karen says firmly, her tone brokering no argument. “Daddy and I are so proud of you love. A boy only turns seventeen once, and you’ll need things for your time in America…”

Liam hugs Karen tight and says, “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Mrs Payne, you must be exhausted after working all night. Why don’t you go relax and let me and Li clean up the breakfast?” Harry squeezes Liam’s shoulder and beams at Karen.

As they stand side by side, doing up the dishes; Harry washing and Liam drying because he knows where things go, Harry says, “How nice of you to mention me to your parents.”

“Harry,” Liam sighs, “please don’t. My parents aren’t like yours okay? I need time to explain…things. And your being a brat about it isn’t helping at all right now. Look we’ve a few hours before you have to go home, and then I can't see you for a least a week after that because of that camp Coach Cowell wants me to attend. Let’s have a nice time, okay?”

Watching as soap and oil battle it out in the frying pan he’s twisting back and forth under the tap, Harry says, “Are you embarrassed of me?” in a small voice.

“No!” Liam sets down the juice glass he’s been drying. “No! Harry how could you even say that? Do you think I’d have asked you to come home with me if I were embarrassed of you?” He gives Harry a quick hug. “I know I have to explain things to my parents, okay? Things about me, and about…us. And I will, I promise you. I just haven’t had time and ….”

Harry shakes his head. “Of course. Of course, Liam. I didn’t mean to push. You’re right. Let’s just let this lie and have a nice time.” Harry gives Liam’s arm a pat and then resumes his washing up.

They spend the rest of the day kicking a football round the park across the street from Liam’s and they walk to the high street for lunch at the chippy. They’re sat in front of the telly listening to Liam’s Mum give a colour commentary on some baking program when Liam’s dad appears in the door way. “Roo texted me your friend needs a lift to the train station?”

“Oh yes please, sir!” Harry stands up and extends his hand, “I’m Harry. Mum made me promise I’d be home for Sunday. It's church and family day and all that.” His smile widens when he hears Liam’s mum coo at his explanation. The thing is, in anyone else’s mouth it would sound insincere and like he was trying too hard to impress. But, when Harry says it, it just sounds true.

“Geoff,” Liam's dad says, taking Harry’s offered hand and shaking it firmly. “Best collect your things; we’ll be off in a few. Trains between here and Cheshire are few and far between these days, I’m afraid.”

Liam bolts upstairs to get Harry’s pack and then they all pile into Geoff’s silver Toyota. Karen waves them off from the front steps, once more in her scrubs and heading back to the hospital.

When they get to the train station, Liam unbuckles his belt and says, “I’ll come up to the platform with you. Dad I can take the bus back, you don’t have to wait.”

“Do,” Geoff says simply. “Your Mum would skin me if I told her I’d left you in this part of town on your own.”

Liam and Harry walk over to the platform, Harry validating his ticket in the machine and they stand there, hands in pockets, rocking back and forth. “This was nice, thanks for having me.” Harry says.

“Thanks for coming,” Liam says. “Say have you heard the new Black Keys? I’ve just uploaded it if you want to listen?” He takes his iPod out of his pocket and offers Harry an ear bud.

They stand there for a long time, heads bent together; shoulders brushing as they listen to the music, looking for any excuse to touch that won’t require Liam to stammer into immediate explanations to his father, who is sat on the bonnet of the car, smoking a cigarette. There’s no way to be out of Geoff’s eyesight, so Liam smiles sadly and turns the volume up when the song he really likes comes on.

When the train pulls up to the platform Harry instinctively leans into press his mouth to Liam’s. He makes a sad, angry noise when Liam pulls away, cutting his eyes to where Geoff is still sat smoking, and watching them. Liam hugs Harry tight and says “I’ll text you, okay? All day everyday 'til I'm back in Cheshire.”

Harry nods and picks up his bag, "See ya in ten days, I guess." He walks slowly towards the waiting train, and gives Liam, and his dad a small, wiggly finger wave before he boards.

-sorry Liam texts even before Harry’s had a chance to find his seat.

- :(((((((

-my parents are just…Midlanders, u know? Old fashioned

-I believe the word is homophobic

-Harrrrry I’ll talk tothem promis

-text me when you’re back. xx

* * *

“You look lovely, sweetheart.” Anne beams at Harry as she straightens his floppy black bow tie.

Harry blows out a breath and says, “Don’t want to look lovely,” a tad more grumpily than he means to.

His mother just smiles at him as she tucks a wayward curl back into place. “Very handsome.” She kisses his cheek. “Fit for a birthday date at Giovanni’s.” She smooths the shoulders of his navy blue suit jacket before Harry can wriggle free of her fussing.

“Thanks!” his cheeks dimple as he smiles, kissing her cheek.

Handing him the brightly wrapped package that has been sitting on the hall table for almost a week, Anne adds, “You’re to come home afterwards, Harry. Robin and I are serious about this. You’re not to stay over with Liam when there are no adults in his house.” Harry’s cheeks heat with embarrassment at the implication. “We’ve bought you a round trip train ticket and you’re to be on it tonight, is that understood?”

“Yes Mum,” Harry nods and bites his lip, mentally begging her to end the conversation there. “Robin’s driving you to the station—best get going you don’t want to keep your Liam waiting on his birthday.”

Turning so fast he almost trips over the pointed toes of his dress shoes. Harry yanks up the waistband of his good chino trousers and says, “Thanks Mum! You’re the best!” and he tumbles out the door and into the car waiting in the drive.

* * *

“Wow. You look amazing,” Liam pops up from his seat inside the lobby of the Italian restaurant Harry had picked for them to celebrate at.

Harry runs a hand down the placket of his white dress shirt. “Thanks! You clean up quite all right as well.” With his free hand Harry circles one of the buttons on Liam’s dark grey waistcoat, then lingering at the taper of his waist. “C’mon, I’ve made a reservation.” Harry’s hand slides to the small of Liam’s back, guiding him to the hostess station and then to their table.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous! I know we haven't seen each other in ten days or whatever, but…” Harry says, taking his seat and nudging the birthday gift he’d brought across the table towards Liam.

Chuckling, Liam says, “S'differen;t getting to see you than texting you the stupid things the Coach said at my camp. And, well, this is a bit different from Nando's or McDonald’s isn’t it?” he flicks open the over-sized menu, looking at the neat black script on the crisp linen pages and says, “I’m not certain what most of these things are!”

“I just get the garlic bread and lasagne when my family come here,” Harry laughs like Liam has made the most hilarious joke ever. “Open your present!” he adds, tapping the box with his water glass.

“Harry, you sent me that lovely card and you’re getting dinner. You needn’t get me a present!” Liam exclaims, tugging the gift into his lap none the less.

Harry’s eyes widen when he hears Liam mention the card. “Oh, you did get it! I’m so glad. Seems like I posted it ages ago. But you never said anything about it, so I couldn’t be sure…because, well, Royal Mail, innit?”

“Oh yeah, I got it Monday last, I think. Thanks heaps—it’s usually only my nan and my granddad who send me anything in the post these days.” Harry frowns when he realizes that’s all Liam is going to say about the card, or the sentiment he’d written inside.

“Gee Haz, how much sellotape did they use on this thing?” Liam grouses as their waiter appears.

They order Caesar salad and Harry smiles his most charming smile and says, “Thought you’d appreciate a challenge. Wrapped it m’self.”

Liam continues industriously shredding off the wrappings and balling them up on the table until the box inside is revealed. “Oh! Movies! Thanks,” Liam leans over and takes Harry’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. His eyes look tired and there are fine lines around his mouth and Harry wants to tell him that seventeen is too young to be exhausted and worried all the time.

“You’re welcome!” he says instead. “I remembered you said you’ve not seen Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club and that’s criminal. So, now we can give the Batman a rest on film nights and maybe do a John Hughes thing instead.”

“Sounds great!” Liam says, distracted. He tucks into his salad, periodically smiling over the tea light at Harry. He takes Harry’s earlier suggestion and they both order the lasagne and garlic bread when the waiter comes back to refill their water and take their dirty plates. “Oh!” Liam says around his mouthful of bread, “I’ve brought you a present as well.” He reaches into his trouser pocket and then reaches for Harry’s hand.

“I don’t need gifts, Liam. It’s your birthday!” Harry protests, but he’s unable to hide the delighted look on his face. The delight turns to confusion when he opens his hand to see a small square of black terry cloth.

“And you’ve done a brilliant job on your exam results!” Liam has pasted on a wide, pleased grin. “It’s a sweatband, like for your wrist? I recall you’d admired mine at the gym and I thought perhaps you could use it at the badminton?”

Harry stares down at the wrist band, running a scraggly fingernail along the terrycloth loops, "It's great! Thanks, Li!" Harry unbuttons his shirt sleeve and slips the sweatband onto his wrist, holding it up and smiling hard so Liam can snap a photo with his phone. "Don't suppose plans have changed and your parents are here for your actual birthday, are they?"

Liam takes his time chewing and then takes a long swallow of his Coke. “Nah, can’t really afford it, can they? We were just over there the other week and they’re coming down to London for the Olympic rankings so…” Liam shrugs, pulling his shirt tight across his broad shoulders and he’s attempting to school his features in a none too successful mask of indifference.

“Aww, but still, that’s a bit pants, innit. Never too old to have your mum fuss and coo over you on your birthday and suchlike. But lucky you seem to be havin' a birthday month.” Harry squeezes Liam’s fingers and the only response Liam gives him is another awkward shoulder shrug.

The meal continues in awkward conversation as Harry tells long, complicated and not completely sensical stories of the things Louis and Niall have been getting up to. Things get worse and Harry grasps at straws mentioning inane topics like the extra hot weather and how Coach Cowell is doing but nothing seems to bring Liam out of his fog. Things haven’t been this stilted and strange between them since they first had dinner at Nando's. As their server clears away their empty dishes, Liam opens his mouth and closes it again, several times.

“Alright Li?” Harry asks as he pretends to peruse the dessert list, but is really just watching his boyfriend struggle.

Eyebrows scrunched together in a pained, thoughtful expression, Liam finally blurts out, “Harry we should talk.”

Blinking slow and steepling his fingers on his placemat, Harry replies, “Okay…but I thought we have been…” and he laughs nervously at the sadness in Liam’s eyes.

“No, I mean…just,” Liam huffs and makes a frustrated gesture, balling his fists against the table. “I really like you, Harry.”

Harry beams and wants to be relieved, “I really like you too, Li,” he says brightly, and reaches for Liam’s hand.

Liam starts to take Harry’s hand, but then he makes a stiff, abortive motion and runs his fingers through his hair instead. “It’s just…I never planned on this. On us,” he wrings his serviette in his lap. “I’d mentally prepared for training to be my sole focus. Just running, twenty four-seven. But since I’ve met you and the lads, I’ve been bunking off more and more. Coach Cowell is ever so cross with me, I think. My focus is gone. Because all I see, even when I’m not near you…is you, Harry. And running, it’s all I’ve got,” his voice trails off and he say, in a pained whisper, “Hazza, I think I should focus on making the Olympic team. I need to…eliminate distractions.

Eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock, Harry whispers, “Are you breaking it off with me?”

“Hazza, Harry, please. Please try and understand? Running is all I’ve ever had, all I’ve been good at. I can’t muck this up.”

“You have me!” Harry rasps.

Liam says “Please,” again, holding out his hand to Harry. Harry stands up and backs away from the possibility of Liam’s touch. Blinking rapidly and speaking faster than Liam can ever recall hearing him before, he sucks in a breath and spits out, “Oh, I understand, believe you me. I am so truly sorry to have been such a horrid distraction.” He pull some notes from his billfold and tosses them on to the table. “I…I’ve got to go. Happy birthday, Li.” His voice breaks and his chair tips over as he stumbles out of the restaurant.

“Harry wait!” Liam calls, but Harry just runs through the restaurant and down the street. He doesn’t stop until he gets to the train station. He leans against the wall and fishes his mobile out of his trouser pocket, hitting the number for home.

“Hey little brother, how’s the date going?”

His breath nothing more than ragged, painful sobs, Harry manages to say, “Gem, can you ask Mum to come collect me at the train station in Crewe please?”

After a slight pause, Gemma asks, “H? Are you alright? It’s early yet, you’ve hours before your train. Oh lord, you haven’t lost your return ticket have you?”

“Please Gemma, just will you ask Mum to come to Crewe, please?” He’s full out bawling now and he only just hears his sister promise Anne will be there as soon as she can before he rings off and pockets his phone.

The street light catches the black band at his wrist and Harry snorts out a gurgling laugh through his tears. “A sweatband,” he sniffles. “I gave him my heart and he gave me a sweatband.” Angry, he rips it off his wrist and flings it onto the train tracks.

* * *

“He’s a villain! A horrible, cruel, villain.” Louis announces from his perch on Harry’s window sill.

Harry sniffs pathetically and says, in a tear-worn, gravelly voice, “No he’s not. He’s really really not. He’s kind and sweet and perfect and I was distracting him from his dream of being in the Olympics.” He curls into Niall’s comforting hug and snuffles into the collar of his green Derby County team shirt.

Niall makes a clucking noise and takes a large bite of his bran muffin, offering the rest to Harry. Harry just shakes his head sadly, so Niall pats his back and says, “You want me t’go over there and box his ears?” Harry lifts his head to gawp at Niall in horror. “Cuz I will. Been dead boring down to t’Lion lately. Full of pensioners and hen nights. Haven’t got my Irish up in a while.”

“No! No, thanks.” Harry pats Niall’s hip taking the offer as Niall’s way of saying sorry for the way things turned out.

Louis picks at his chocolate chip muffin and sniffles. “Always knew the Labradoodle would end up doing something exactly this twatty.” He thoughtfully chews loudly over Harry’s sounds of Harry’s protest. “But like if the Labradoodle is your soulmate or destiny or whatever the hell it is you’ve been rabbiting on about since New Year, I’m just surprised you’ve let him off the hook so easy. Doesn’t seem like you to give up so easily, Curly.” He crosses the room an dsits on the edge of the mattress scrubbing his hand through Harry’s hair in just the way he likes when he’s sad.

“Well,” Harrys smile spreads slow like honey across his face. “whilst sat at the train station like a tosser waiting for my mum, I did have a thought. “ He sniffles, swiping his face across Louis’ t-shirt between his shoulder blades. “But I’ll need you lads’ help.”

“Oh boy, here we go, Harry Styles' Life is a Rom Com Plan to commence in 3-2-1,” Niall laughs as he leans back against the headboard, crossing his ankles and putting his arms behind his head.

“Louis, will you drive me into Crewe?” He turns his widest-eyed most pleading look at Louis who grunts but nods in agreement. “Niall, does Bobby still have that old boom box used to set the karaoke rig up on at the pub?” Niall nods slowly and Harry’s grin gets bigger when he
mutters to himself, “Mum still has those Chinese lanterns from Gemma’s leaving do…”

“Hazza, what exactly is this grand scheme of yours?” Louis arches his eyebrow, dubious.

“Big gestures, Lou! Giant ones! This is the kind of emergency that calls for the biggest of big gestures” Harry leans over the side of his bed and starts sifting through the detritus pile of odd socks and text books and cd jewel cases.

* * *

Louis shuts the boot of his car with a slam and stares down at the collection of things set around his feet. “So, you going to tell me what this grand plan is?”

Still smiling and vibrating with excitement, Harry says, “Remember when you fancied Jade Thirlwall and she was obsessed with that one film?”

“Oh Harry, I don’t really think that Lloyd Dobbler is a very good relationship role model.” Louis says softly.

“Not a role model…an inspiration! Lloyd Dobbler’s the king of the biggest of big gestures. Liam finishes training at eight thirty, has a shower, then watches telly or a film on his computer in his room. Don’t you look at me I’m not a creepy stalker I’m just good at remembering details.” Harry huffs. “There’s a parkette over the road from Coach Cowell’s house. I’m going to set up these lanterns, and play his favourite song on this boom box, and he will realize I’m serious and he’ll appreciate the grand gesture and we’ll work out how he can be an Olympian and my boyfriend. We’ll carry on like that disaster of a birthday dinner never happened.”

“I don’t know…You do recall that Lloyd Dobbler’s grand gesture didn’t work, yeah?” Louis signs even though he’s started placing tea lights he’d nicked from his aunt’s linen cupboard inside the paper lanterns and handing them to Harry, who walks a little ways into the parkette and sets them along the pavement, whistling a familiar tune under his breath as he works.

“You’ve just got a sore head because his favourite tune is a Zayn Malik tune.”

Louis snorts and kisses the side of Harry’s head, “No love, I’m sore because his favourite tune is an unwarranted expropriation, and pale pathetic imitation of a Peter Gabriel song, overly stylized and melismaticized into unrecognizability.” His shoulders sag then and he says, “But I suppose one of us needs to keep romantic hope alive.” He looks at his watch, “Okay you’ve got fifteen minutes to Labradoodle theatre. Good luck, go get the sad sack puppy of your dreams!” Louis does jazz hands and shuffle steps down the pavement and back to his car. He salutes and says, “Is break a leg acceptable in this case? Break a dick? No, no don’t do that. That would be tragic all around. Don’t mind me, just get your boy and be happy, Haz.” He slides behind the wheel of the Vauxhall and Harry watches the tail lights trail down the road until they disappear from view.

The lanterns glow in the fading light and Harry’s attention is focused on the second window to the right. Like clockwork, the light comes on, a soft yellow spilling out into the street. Harry sees the gentle rustle of the sheer curtains, so he knows Liam’s window is open. Harry blows out a steadying breath, his cheeks puffing out with the effort when he sees Liam’s familiar silhouette appear in the window. “Okay. Right then, here we go.” He adjusts his faded Bryan Adams shirt, tugging it down over his hips, hitches up his basketball shorts, then picks up the radio.

Cuing up the right track, Harry hoists the boom box over his head and hits play. The music echoes through the quiet street and just as the opening strains of Zayn’s cover of In Your Eyes play, his lovely voice singing out Lost, I get so lost sometimes, Harry bites his lip, trying to hold in the smile on his face, as he sees Liam’s shadow pause at his open window, a tiny part in the curtains disrupting the light from his room. Liam’s head is cocked and he’s listening. Harry watches Liam watching him for the entirety of the song.

As the last notes of the song ring through the neighbourhood, Harry’s smile gets impossibly wider still. He watches Liam turn out the light. Harry knows, he just knows, that Liam will be back beside him any second now and everything will be like it was.

The song plays through for a second time and Liam still hasn’t materialized. By the third time through, Harry watches as Shadow Liam pulls the window closed and fixes the curtain shut. Harry’s arms are shaking with the effort of holding the boom box over his head, but he refuses to give up. This will work. It has to.

When the rain starts, Harry’s almost glad. The drops make it hard for people walking their dogs to see his tears. He stands there, letting Liam’s neighbours shout at him to shut the fuck up, and the candles in the lanterns sputter out, and their bright candy coloured paper shells fall to the pavement, little more than stains under the pelting downpour.

Harry’s curls are plastered to his head, and he’s soaked through. The stereo’s batteries die and in the shock of the sudden silence, Harry shudders one last heaving sob and concedes defeat.

Lowering the boom box to the pavement, Harry shakes out the pins and needles in his aching arms and hands and fingers, and paws his mobile out of his shorts.

-Lloyd Dobbler is an ARSEHOLE :((((

-Aww babe. D: I’ll be there in a mo

-Thx <3 xx.

-We’ll go to the Lion, pinch some of the good stuff u me + Nialler will get proper wankered

-A+ hells yes

* * *

Harry groans and pulls the pillow tighter around his head, steadfastly the knocking and banging on his bedroom door. He should know better by now that ignoring Niall and Louis never works. The pair of them come spilling into his room, bouncing on his bed and prying his pillow out of his hands to beat him about the head with. “Your mum says you’re poorly,” Niall says kindly, holding a bottle of Lucozade in front of his face.

“Hazza, come on, mate. It’s been three days. The summer’s almost over. You really plan to spend it mooning over the Labradoodle?” Louis says not unkindly, carding his fingers through the tangled mess of Harry’s hair.

Harry sits up slowly, scrubbing at his face and taking a donut out of the bag Niall offers him, then fiddling with the lid of the Lucozade bottle. “It just hurts,” Harry says sullenly.

Niall flings a comforting across Harry’s shoulder. “Poor lamb.”

Louis just looks angry, “How long are you going to keep to your bed like some consumptive Victorian bint? Jesus Harry, you got dumped—everyone’s been dumped! Suck it up sunshine! This is some serious bullshit you’re working right now. I won’t stand here and watch.” He waves his arms around, thoroughly worked up. Making a disgusted noise, he stalks out of the room and bolts down the stairs.

“Christ Tommo, what’s crawled up your arse and died?” Niall yells at the empty doorway.

Louis’ out of nowhere anger seems to jolt Harry out of his fog. “Lou! Louis! Wait!” He flings his duvet off the bed and pounds over to the stairs, tripping over the cuffs of his too long track bottoms. “Louis!” Harry calls again when he catches sight of Louis’ stripe clad shoulders ducking between the slats of the fence that separates Harry’s front garden from the farmer’s field next door. “Please! Wait! Don’t you leave me too!” Harry’s huffing for breath when he finally lands a hand at Louis’ elbow.

“Look, I realize you’re the youngest and everyone treats you like a baby, but must you behave like one? Liam was awful to you; he didn’t tell you about California, he didn’t tell his parents about you, and he chose training over you! Grow up, would you?” Louis isn’t yelling, when he gets this kind of angry—blue eyes narrowed and speaking in calm, clipped tones, arms crossed over his chest, it’s much, much more upsetting.

Harry lets go of Louis’ arm, chewing on his bottom lip and balling his hands into fists at his sides, “Why are you being so mean?” he asks in a small, hurt voice.

“Aww, poor ickle Hazza, for the first time in his life things don’t go his way and not everyone believes the sun shines out his arse. Best let mummy come pet your hair and change your nappy.” Louis sing-songs meanly.

Confused by Louis’ outburst, Harry stands quietly worrying at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t always get my way!” and even to his own ears he sounds very much like the child Louis has just accused him of being. “Dad left Mum when I was seven! Do you think I wanted that?” This is the first time Harry’s ever raised his voice to Louis, the first time they’ve ever seriously quarrelled, and it makes Harry feel sick to his stomach.

“Yes, well. Mark left Mum Saturday last. So ha! ha! I win!” Louis’ tone is pinched, he’s blinking rapidly and his angry, thin lipped expression wobbles a bit.

“No he never did!” Harry gasps in shock.

“He did,” Louis voice sounds like his throat is full of broken glass and he hugs himself tightly. “Mum and the girls are all alone up in Donny as Dad’s fucked off to who can guess where.” He throws his arms wide. “And I’m down here, failing out again. I’m on track to be the oldest Sixth Former in history and I can’t even go home because I’ve spent all my money on stupid things and there is nothing I can do to fix it or make it better.”

Harry draws Louis into a fierce hug and Louis lets him. “Oh, Lou.” Harry rubs comforting circles across Louis’ back. “Why ever didn’t you tell me?”

Louis makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a chuckle and Harry doesn’t say a word about the wetness soaking his shirt when Louis says, “I tried. Man, I tried. But, it was all Labradoodlepalooza with you all day and all night. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

Harry laughs a little and squeezes Louis tight, “Oh must have been really bad then if you couldn’t make yourself heard.” He pokes Louis’ cheek until Louis looks up at him. Meeting Louis’ eyes, Harry says, “Louis I’ve been an absolute shit of a friend and I am so massively sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Louis' shoulders hitch and he says, “Nah, nowt anything anyone who’s not Jay and Mark can do at this point, I reckon.” He wipes at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Using the hem of his t-shirt to wipe his own eyes and blow his nose, Harry says, “Well, aren’t we a pair.”

“Yeah. Man, fuck feelings.” Louis says wetly.

“Indeed. Fuck them hard.” Harry nods his head in agreement.

“So, we okay?” Harry knocks his shoulder against Louis’.

Letting out a long, affected sigh, Louis says, “Yeah. Yeah, we are. You’re my best mate, Hazza. We’ll always be okay.”

Harry hugs Louis tightly and mumbles. “Best mates. We’ll always be okay, no matter what.”

“Even when we’re not okay, we are.” Louis smiles fondly and wipes a tear off Harry’s cheek with his thumb. “You okay?” He taps at Harry’s ribcage, right over his heart.

“Yeah. Feel a proper tit though.” Harry links his arms through Louis’ as they slowly amble back round the fence to Harry’s front garden.

“Love’ll do that to ya. You’ve given up on dreams of being the future Mr. Labradoodle, then?” Louis leans back against the fence post and tilts his head up to the sky, watching as the wind blows the white fluffy clouds towards the horizon.

Leaning against the fence beside Louis, Harry says, “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Mostly I think I’m just waiting for the universe to unfold as it should.”

Louis laughs and tugs firmly on one of Harry’s curls, making him cry out and slap Louis’ hand away. “Well, I suppose you could run into Liam at the Olympic qualifiers, right? We’re all still going to go down to London and stay at your dad’s place to support Gemma?”

“Ah, so you do know his name!” Harry teases. “Yeah, maybe I still want it to work out, you know. Maybe he’s not the mythical unicorn I’d built him up to be in my brain. But maybe he’s better. He’s real, you know? He’s not perfect,but who is? He’s just…Liam.” Harry’s smile is crooked and fond. His eyes shine with mischief when he says, “Or else there’s that Zayn Malik concert at the qualifiers that we’ve all got tickets to.”

Louis’ eyes narrow suspiciously and he huffs, “The Labradoodle is certainly not coming to see Zayn Malik with us!”

“With us, eh?” Harry’s grin grows cheekier by the second.

“Yes. Whatever. Do shut up. Let’s go before Nialler’s sound asleep in your bed. He’s probably et all the donuts by now anyways.” Louis tugs a cackling Harry back towards his front door.

* * *

“Christ on a bike, it’s hot enough to melt a nun’s knickers.” Niall curses as they head across the sweltering car park.

Harry flicks the remaining contents of his water bottle at Niall and says, “Nialler, that’s a load of swears even for you. I don’t think they’ll take away your Irishness just because you’re at a Team GB qualifier.” Niall snorts at Harry then grabs the now empty water bottle and hits Harry about the face with it.

“Eyes on the prize, gents.” Louis pipes up, “and I know Niall’s never been one to look a gift ham sarnie in the mouth.”

“What does that even mean?” Niall asks.

“It’s a saying.” Louis sashays past his two friends and further long one row in a sea of many cars parked round the oval.

“Pretty sure it’s not.” Niall laughs. “Hey do you even remember where we’ve parked?” Niall has refocused on their task, finding the car and getting their lunch.

Harry tugs at the hem of Niall’s vest steering him in the opposite direction they’ve been heading, “I do. It’s right…oh!” he pivots to the left and comes to a dead stop. Niall and Louis crash comically into his back and squawk in protest before following Harry’s gaze.

“Well look what the cat sicked up!” Niall says loudly. He comes around to stand protectively in front of Harry, arms crossed.

“Look indeed, Nialler. It’s like he wants to die.”

Liam is sat on the front bumper of Louis’ car. When he sees the three of them, he gets nervously to his feet, pulls the snapback off his head and worries it between his hands. “Heya Harry. Y’alright?” He asks, his voice higher than usual and eyebrows creased together over his sad brown eyes.

“Really, Liam? What a question!” No he is not all fucking right, y’ muppet. You’ve broken his heart.” Louis steps around them, defensive and angry, forcing Liam to step back against the car and sit down hard on the bumper again.

Harry holds up his hand, “Lou, it’s okay.”

“No it is fucking not!” In the decade Harry has known Niall he’s seen him angry like this less than a handful of times.

“It really is, Nialler. Promise.” Harry feels strangely calm as he keeps hold of the hem of Niall’s vest, making sure he stays put. “It’s good to see you, Li. Congrats on your ranking. First alternate is nothing to sneeze at.”

Liam closes his eyes for a moment. He should have expected Harry’s kindness. He’d never been anything but kind to Liam the entire time they’d known each other. “Could we maybe have a bit of a chat?” He asks finally.

Louis opens his mouth to say...something, but Harry holds up a hand to stop him. “I’d like that. Lads, why don’t you take lunch back to where Mum and Gemma are waiting.”

‘Y’sure Harry?” Niall pauses in lifting the picnic things from the boot of Louis car.

“Perfectly. I’ll be fine.” Harry seems more calm than he has in ages, feels it too.

Louis sighs and takes the thermal basket from Niall. “Okay, but Gemma’s events go at two o’clock. You’d best be at the sand pit before then.”

“Of course!” Harry shoots him a dirty look, offended that Louis would even think Harry could think of missing his sister get her chance at the Olympic team.

Niall and Louis nod at Harry before tracing their route back to where they’ve left Gemma and Anne on the event grounds.

“So…” Harry prompts. He’s kept a good distance between them and he stands there, waiting to hear what Liam has to say.

“Thanks for watching my events.” Liam says while Harry just stands their blinking. Liam continues “You’ve not answered any of my texts.”

Harry’s mouth tilts up a little at the corner. “”Nope,” Is all he says.

“I miss you,” Liam blurts out, taking an unsure step into the no man’s land Harry had created between them. “I miss you so much. I never dreamt something could hurt as much as this missing you does.”

Harry motions for Liam to sit back down and he sits beside him, as far away as he can and still be sat on the bumper. Then he uses a leg to hop up onto the bonnet itself, long legs dangling over the sedan’s grill. “I haven’t gone anywhere, Liam.”

“I am so sorry.” Liam’s voice starts to shake. “I’ve cocked this up so very badly. But I didn’t know what else to do. You just…you just don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Harry looks out across the car park, anywhere but at Liam. “You made it seem like being with me was an…obstacle to your success. And yet, here you are--wanting to talk to me. Explain it to me, I want to understand.”

“Well, you’re just so...so you aren’t you?” Liam blurts out and then scowls like he’s trying to find words for the thoughts in his head. “You just know who you are and what you want and me, well, I haven’t a bloody clue about any of it.” Liam sounds so lost that Harry can’t help but turn his head and watch him as his words unspool.

“My entire life I’ve only ever been good at one thing; running fast. And it wasn’t even because I have any sort of natural affinity for it. I’ve had to train harder and work longer at it than anyone else on my cross country team. But, I’d found it. I’d found the thing I could do—a way out of Wolverhampton and never having to work at what job of work came up for me in the factories.” Liam pauses to catch his breath, still clenching and unclenching the bill of his hat.

He nervously waits for Harry to say something. When he doesn’t, Liam takes another breath and continues. “You’re open and honest and lovely, and everyone loves you so much. But I haven’t a clue how to be like that, wouldn’t know where to start. I’m awkward and bumbling and say all the wrong things. And there’s so many people depending on me. Mum’s been made redundant and Dad’s been sacked and Ruth is so angry all the time. I am so scared…I just don’t want to mess up my scholarship when everything else is so messed up already. So, I hurt you, and for that I will always be sorry.” Liam heaves a breath and Harry can tell he’s willing himself not to cry.

“Jesus, Liam,” Harry stares at him in wonder, before he wraps him in a tight hug. “But I had no idea about any of that. I could have helped. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to see the loser everyone took a swing at in secondary school. How was I meant to tell you my Dad is going to be sent to prison for taking kickbacks at the factory? I thought if I did the leaving it’d be easier. But it hasn’t been easy at all. There’s a you shaped hole every time I want to text something funny or watch every episode of some stupid television program, and too many other things and they all remind me of you.” They sway back and forth and Liam lets himself be soothed by the gentle up and down of Harry’s hands on his back.

“Liam, you are such a good person. The very best. You try so hard and I’m so sorry there haven’t been enough people in your life to tell you how wonderful you are. I wouldn’t have thought you a loser, I never could.”

Biting his lip, Liam’s eyes are darker than Harry’s ever seen. “I know that, now. And I know I leave for America in a few weeks but I thought, that is if you can forgive me, maybe, perhaps you might consider giving me a second chance. Even though I’m total crap at relationships and …even if you won’t ehm, date me, I hope we might still be friends?”

Reaching over, Harry threads their fingers together in a familiar gesture of affection. “No.”

“No? Oh. Okay then. Sorry to have troubled you.” Liam attempts to untangle their fingers and he fits his snapback back onto his head. He keeps tugging, eyes wild like a trapped animal.

“No—I mean I don’t want to be your friend. I mean no maybe, no perhaps, no might. I mean definitely, absolutely for sure a second chance, and it’s not even a second chance, it’s just going on as we were, yeah?” With every word Harry gets closer to Liam, tugging their joined hands until Liam is standing in the wide V of Harry’s spread legs. He tilts Liam’s hat onto the back of his head and with his widest, most dimpled smile, kisses the surprised Oh! right out of Liam’s mouth and into his own.

* * *

After a few gentle, sure kisses, Harry says, “C’mon, let’s go back to the others before Niall eats all the lunch my mum packed.” Liam laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkled in delight as he lets Harry lead them back through the car park.

“So, where’d Lou get off to?” Harry asks from his lazy sprawl against Liam’s thigh.

Everyone had smiled encouragingly when Harry had found them, his hand held firmly in Liam’s. Niall had grinned and said an approving “Way to go!” before fist bumping Liam. They’d stuffed themselves full of sandwiches and pastries and salad and Louis had failed to materialize the entire time.

“Dunno,” Niall says, shoving a fist full of crisps into his mouth. “He said he had to see a bloke about a thing.”

“Helpful.” Harry pulls out his mobile and taps out -where r u ???

Long minutes later Harry’s phone pings with a reply, -busy f off

- D: RUDE! Gem’s event in ½ hr best be there!!!

Louis doesn’t reply so Harry scowls at his phone. “Well, if he misses out I’m going to hold this over his head forever. I’m sure Gemma will too.”

“Nah, you’ll forgive ‘im.” Liam leans over to kiss his cheek with a smile.

Rolling his eyes, Harry says “Sad, but true.”

“Oy! You lovebirds ready to go say hiya to Zayn?” Niall crushes up the empty crisp packet in his hand and stuffs it back into the empty picnic basket.

“Say…hi? To Zayn Malik?” Liam jumps a little, Harry’s head thumping against his thigh.

Sitting up and stretching his arms over his head, Harry yawns and says, “Yep. Told you Louis knew him, didn’t I?”

Blinking Liam says, “I thought you was jokin'. I mean everyone 'round here claims to have known The Zayn Malik at some point…”

“He’s a top bloke,” Niall adds. “First class. He said we should call round to the artist area and say hello.”

They all get to their feet and wipe crumbs and stray bits of grass from their shorts and after heading in what turns out to be the wrong direction for several minutes, they manage to find the cordoned off performers area. Niall easily gives their names to a girl with a clipboard and a headset. “I’d been so nervous about my events I’d forgotten Zayn was performing at the closing concert.” Liam babbles excitedly. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet as the security guard leads them through a maze of make shift stalls. “End of the row, on the left,” the security guard barks at them.

Without bothering to knock, Niall turns the flimsy handle. “Oh!” all three of them exclaim.

Louis is backed against a road case, his hands roaming the narrow shoulders of the dark haired guy holding him in place, snogging him senseless. He’s up on his tip toes and the guy-Zayn Malik- has his hands fisted in the riot of Louis’ hair. Their hips and knees flex together in time with the messy meeting of their mouths.

“Huh, guess he really is busy seeing a bloke about a thing.” Harry smirks.

“Looks like they’ve finally made up proper,” Niall adds with a giggle, backing the three of them out of Zayn’s dressing room.

“Wow, Louis really does know Zayn Malik!” Liam exclaims with a low whistle.

The three of them collapse to the ground rolling and holding their stomachs as they laugh so hard they cry.

* * *

“C’mon gloomy gus! Give us a smile! You’re on your way to America” Karen Payne exclaims brightly as she clicks the shutter on her little point and shoot camera for what seems to Liam to be the thousandth time.

He contorts his face into an expression that is much more pain than joy and Ruth pipes up, “Yeah, Leemo! I’d be doing a proper jig was it me getting outta this shite town.”

“Ruth!” Karen swats at her daughter then tut-tuts at Liam, hugging him close as her eyes brim with tears behind the wire rims of her glasses. “Daddy and I are so very proud of you, my love. And we all love you, so very very much.” She whispers, kissing his cheek. Liam grimaces at the mention of his Father, absent from his send off as he awaits trial in prison in Birmingham.

“I know, I know,” Liam holds on tight to his mum. He wipes at his eyes but can’t stop scanning the departures area. “Aww you missing your Harry, son?” Liam’s parents had been surprisingly fine and downright encouraging and supportive when Liam and Harry had sat down with them and explained their relationship. His mother cried but only because she was thrilled to see Liam so happy, and with such a lovely boy. She’d said that’s all she ever wants for any of her children; happiness.

Liam, of course had taken that as an opportunity to feel badly for having misjudged his parents.

“Yeah, I know I’m being a soppy sod,” Liam laughs at himself and wipes his arm across his face.

Karen kisses his cheek and says, “You know he didn’t want to embarrass you. Wears his heart on his sleeve that lovely boy does. And you got to say your good byes. I’m sure as soon as you’ve got a connection you’ll be texting and emailing all the day long.” Karen pats his shoulder.

“Already got a Skype date set up,” Liam smiles. After the Olympic trials Liam and Harry had gone back to Wolverhampton with his family. Harry had spent a week with him but the two long weeks between Harry going back to Holmes Chapel and Liam leaving for California had only been bearable thanks to daily marathon skype sessions.

“Yeah, baby brother, that’ll be just like ol’Hazzer being there, won’t it?” Ruth smirks as she hugs him and Liam is confused by the head shake and glare his mother gives Ruth over her shoulder.

Squeezing him one more time and handing him is carry-on bag, Karen says. “As much as I’d love to keep you with me forever, you’d best get going if you’re to make your flight.”

“Yeah, right. Love you. Byeeee.” Liam blows them a kiss as he heads to passport control.

* * *

Liam tucks his rucksack under his seat and glances at his boarding card, making sure it matches the gate number he’s sat at. It’s second nature for him to take out his mobile, with its fancy new American SIM card and types-Miss yoooo

-me 2

-time zones confuse meeee not too late 4 yoo???

-never for you <3 give nyc my love

-only @ jfk no time for site seen before nxt flight

-ah well give jfk my love-the aeroport not the guy ewww

-nope yr <3 just for meeee

-oooh greedy. I like <3 xx

-wot u doin???

-missin u

-awww we r sad pear

-pair, babe unless u r unhappy fruit ;P

-…well… :P

-HA! HA! btw youre cute when youre trying to spell

-???

-u look super hot in red

-????

-look up, ya great Wally :P

-!!!!!!!!!!

“Li, you can stop texting me now.” Harry laughs as his phone buzzes in his hand. He knocks his knee against Liam’s and says, “Hey.”

“Oh my god!” Liam shouts and jumps to his feet. The passengers around them tsk and glare at them. “Oh my god,” he says much more quietly, sitting down hard. He grasps both of Harry’s hands in his and says, “Harry! What in the world are you doing here?”

“Erm…surprise?” his eyes go comically wide and he waggles his eyebrows. Leaning his forehead against Liam’s he collapses into the empty chair beside Liam, accidentally tipping over the bag of the lady beside him.

“Well done you, then. Could have knocked me over with a feather. Think I might be having heart failure. I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it!” he reaches out, cupping Harry’s face in his palms and tracing the planes of Harry’s cheeks and forehead and nose with this thumb.

“Your mum and Ruth helped me get on the right flight and everything. Your sister could work for MI5 or some such, she’d make a class spy!” Harry leans his head against Liam’s shoulder and all but purrs as Liam starts carding his fingers through his hair. “Going to go pick oranges at my Auntie Linda’s orchard for a while.”

Liam looks stricken, “But what about college? Hazza you’ve worked so hard and your GCSE results are amazing…”

“Gap year,” Harry says with an air of certainty.

“Harry! No one takes a gap year between Secondary and College!”

Harry grins and places his index finger against Liam’s lips. “Shhh, don’t let my mum know that.” He giggles at Liam’s stricken expression and adds, “or perhaps she already knows. Told me I could start Sixth Form after Christmas Hols.”

“But what about Louis and Niall. Louis already doesn’t like me, he’ll hate me for you being here in America without him.” Liam bites his lip but can’t stop smiling and bouncing in his chair.

Kissing Liam’s cheek, Harry says, “Louis doesn’t hate you. And he’s going to go up to Doncaster to spend some time with his sisters and his mum. I think he’s finally realized that academics might not be for him. Which is good, because if he was at school he couldn’t be a PA on Zayn’s world tour starting in November.”

“No, he isn’t!” Liam shoves at Harry’s shoulder, laughing.

Harry laughs too, apologizing to the woman beside him for almost ending up in her lap, “Yep, and Niall always planned to go live with his mum and do uni in Dublin. So I’ll see him at Christmas.”

“Wow. Okay then. So you’ll be in California for…” he scrunches up his face and it’s so cute and so Liam that Harry can’t help but kiss his cheek again, “…four months!”

“I’ll be picking oranges a few miles down the highway from your school for four months.” Harry corrects. “and, I reckon if I do a top job, good ol’Auntie Linda will let me back frequently!”

“Oh no!” Liam’s beaming face morphs into concern, “I’ve only just thought-- I’ve got the last seat in my row. Oh this is horrible. It’ll be awful knowing you’re sat on the same flight as me, but we’re not sat together!” Liam pouts.

“Ahh,” Harry gives him a cheeky wink and tugs Liam’s boarding card free from where it’s stuck in the back of his passport cover. “I’ve got this,” Harry holds the boarding card up and trots over to the customer service counter.

Liam watches fondly as Harry unleashes the Styles charm in full force on the girl behind the desk. He’s smiling widely making sure she takes note of how dimpled and lovely his smile is and how adorable his curls are. She never takes her eyes from his face, not even when Harry gestures broadly between himself and towards Liam.

She smiles and blushes when Harry leans in close and Liam thinks, not for the first time, that Harry really isn’t like any other sixteen year old in the world.

Before he knows it the customer service agent is blushing and typing into her computer. She leans into the PA and calls out a name, asking Allan Hewett to come to the desk. Harry leans against the counter, and when he catches Liam’s eye he gives him a cheesy grin and an enthusiastic thumbs up that makes Liam laugh so loud and hard he has to cover his mouth so as not to annoy the people around him and earn another shushing.

Soon enough, a middle aged man in a business suit ambles up to the podium and after a brief conversation with the airline rep he also falls victim to Harry’s charm. Not ten minutes after he’d set out towards the ticket desk, Harry is dropping back down into his seat at Liam’s side. “Here ya go,” Harry hands over a new boarding card. “Got you a window seat and everything. The lovely Mr. Hewett has kindly offered to relocate to your old aisle seat.”

Without thinking about it, Liam leans over and kisses Harry hard on the mouth. “You’re a wizard, Harry,” he proclaims in a horrible, funny accent.

Harry laughs against Liam’s mouth. “Be happy I only use my powers for good.” Liam nods but doesn’t stop kissing him. “You’ve been waiting to say that line since we met, haven’t you?”

Liam leans back in his chair. “Maybe.” He wrinkles up his nose and Harry laughs harder. Tipping sideways he says, “I really want to snog your face off, right now.”

Harry leans easily into the contact and says in a low voice, “Well we do have at least a half hour before boarding is to start. I swear I saw a handicapped loo just round there,” he juts out his chin.

“Yes, yes you did.” Liam stands and grasps Harry’s wrist, pulling him from his seat and impatiently off towards a place they can grope uninterrupted in private.

* * *

“Alright Li?” Harry presses his palms to Liam’s twitching knee.

Liam bites his lips, chewing painfully and squeezing Harry’s hand bone crushingly tight. “Yeah, yeah, just a bit of a nervous flyer. Sorry.” His eyes are closed tight and he makes a distressed whine as the plane accelerates along the runway and jerks into take off.

“Aww, babe.” Harry works his free hand around Liam’s shoulders, drawing him as close as he can given their seatbelted in place positions. “However did you make it all the way across the Atlantic without losing it?” Harry wrenches his hand free from Liam’s death grip to affectionately swipe stray stands of hair out of Liam’s eyes, using that as an excuse to cup Liam’s cheek in a comforting caress.

Liam grimaces at the few bumps of turbulence and mutters, “Nicola gave me some of her mother in law’s sleeping pills.”

“Well, you’ve got me here now. I’ll keep you safe, and distracted, promise.” Harry smiles reassuringly. He slides his hand back down along Liam’s neck and chest before taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze.

Still distracted and fidgety, Liam keeps looking up and muttering, “C’mon, c’mon, where’s the ding?”

“The what?”

“You know, the ding? Like when the seatbelt light goes out and you’re at cruising altitude and you can ‘move freely about the cabin’ and they hand out the fizzy drinks and chocolate biscuits? Mum says to wait for the ding. Then you know you’re alright.” Liam cups Harry’s hand in both of his, his knees bobbling with anxiety.

“Liam?” Harry asks sweetly.

“Yes?” Liam turns his attention from the window where he’s watching the tiny toy size version of Manhattan fill his view.

Harry darts forward, pressing his lips to Liam’s. He smiles and without breaking the kiss, he whispers, “ding!”