Gods & Monsters

Chapter 13 (Part 2)

Louis can only laugh, blood pumping.

"You're certainly in rare form tonight," he comments, walking up to the boy before he even registers it, just because Harry has a pull and tonight Louis' letting himself be pulled. He reaches out a hand when he approaches him, brushing down the wilder strands of Harry's damp hair, tucking bits behind his ear and untangling them from his eyelashes.

Harry stills, his smile whispering away as he watches, eyes soft and cutting at the same time, reflecting the silver of the moon.

"Thank you," he says quietly, still a little out of breath, and his lips look burnt from the cold.

Louis lets his hand fall. "For what?" he asks curiously.

"For taking me here. For everything." Harry shrugs. "Just. Thank you?"

Louis nods, heart pinched and body humming. "Thank you," he says back, and Harry's eyes flicker with surprise, but he doesn't question it, instead reaching out to take Louis' hand, hot and cold mixing together.

It feels terrifying for a flash of a moment, but then it's gone, and Louis grips Harry's hand back. No thinking tonight. Just fun. Just Harry. Just them.

"Wanna go back in real quick before we head out?" Louis asks, voice surprisingly steady and puffed with air. "I'm gonna see if I can bum a smoke and have a shot of something."

Harry grins, slow and syrupy, squeezing Louis' hand as he steps closer. "Brilliant," is all he mumbles before grinning wider and beginning to lead the way, and Louis laughs, surprised at the boy's eagerness, the energy jumping off his skin.

They head back to the pub and, luckily, Louis does manage to find a generous soul who's willing to give him two cigarettes—one to smoke now and one for the road—and Anthony pours him two shots of tequila as Stan slides him something that contains pickle juice and whiskey that he's never heard of.

"Cheers," Louis grins, downing two in succession as Harry watches from atop a stool, hands clasped as he grins, eyes following the movement of Louis' neck. It sparks livewires inside of Louis as his throat burns, before he licks his lips, eyeing the one remaining shot of tequila sitting on the bar. He hesitates before he takes it, catching Harry's eye. "How're you feeling, kid?" he asks.

Harry shrugs, still smiling. "Really good. Why?" he asks curiously.

Louis glances at the shot, then glances at Harry. "Have you ever drank before?" he asks.

"Well. I mean, earlier tonight," he says. "But that's it, really. Aside from, like, some wine over the years. Never been drunk, though."

"You don't need to be drunk," Louis says, a strange surge of protectiveness sprawling through him. "But being buzzed is fun. Provided you're in a safe environment," he tacks on, and god, when the actual fuck did he become a fucking grandmother? Jesus. Liam would bust a nut laughing at him if he heard this. Hell, Zayn would probably die in a fit of hysterics.

Harry merely rolls his eyes. "I've heard the lectures, thank you," he mutters, but his lips are twisted upward. "My mum's never cared. She trusts me. I've just never had the desire to drink before."

"Oh, fair enough. Was gonna offer you a shot, but. Never mind, then," Louis smiles, moving to take the shot without questioning Harry any further, but he stops when Harry stills him, large hand on his forearm.

"Hey, wait. I said I never had the desire to drink before. I'd like to try it now."

Surprised, Louis eyes him, a slight frown on his face. "You sure? I'm not trying to, like, encourage you or whatever. Seriously, no worries, Harry."