Good Morals [Larry Stylinson]

Ch. Twenty-One | Nick the...Charmer

[E: ✔️]

Trigger warning for Nick being touchy-feely and creepy

It was currently Saturday afternoon, Gemma and Harry's mum talked until noon, which was when Harry got a phone call.

———

"Niall, how sure?"

"Very!"

"Double very?"

"Make it three of 'em. Nick's gonna love this," Niall does jazz hands, leading Harry over to the vanity and showing him the outfit he picked out for this mystery boy. He was wearing a white tee shirt with tight, black skinny jeans, both Niall's. He had a dark denim jacket on and was wearing his blue converse. "I dunno, I don't like it," Harry had a bad feeling about this. The Nick guy was a total stranger, shouldn't he be worried? It wasn't that he didn't trust Niall, he just didn't know this kid and for all knows he could be a creep. Also, he hated this outfit. It wasn't him, and he never was one to try and impress other people, or change how he looks or dresses just for someone else. "Niall, I've changed my mind," Harry started to take off the jacket. His shoulders were gripped, "No. You didn't have a choice anyway."

"Bloody hell, mate."

"Bloody hell, mate," Niall mocks his friend with a smile on his face. Harry watched as his friend stopped the mocking and gave him a sincere and caring smile through the mirror. "I know you'll be fine," he ruffled Harry's mop of curls. "If it doesn't work out, I owe you a tenner, a'ight, lad," he pats Harry's back before letting him go. "Better get that ten ready, then," Harry sang as he walked around the other's room, picking up his phone and stuffing it in his pocket. He checks himself out in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. He shakes his head, "I'm not doing the jacket. It's coming off," Harry takes his phone out and puts it in his front pocket of the pants. He slips off the jacket and tosses it on Niall's bed for Niall to take the damned thing back. "It's, like negative six out, c'mon." (Or twenty for Americans. How weird he would think. Sometimes he feels like people are watching his life play out. How strange.)

"No, I look better without it," Harry shrugs, "I'll be fine," he turned to his blonde friend, who overdramatically sighed. He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He turned him towards the door and pushed him out, "Right, okay, out the door you go," he pushes Harry down the hall to the front door, opening it and pushing him out the door, closing the front door behind the both of them and walking to the car. Harry walks around and slumps into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and buckling. "See, you're in a hurry, you're excited, aren't you?"

"'M really not. Like I said, get your ten pounds ready. And why can't I drive my own car? Or wear my own clothes?"

"'Cause your clothing is too uppity. Or it's jeans and a sweatshirt."

"But I have jeans like you said. And I have a few t-shirts at home."

Then it hit him, there were valid reasons for wearing long-sleeved tops all the time and his past with certain things was just it. He felt like a freak sometimes. "Niall, I need that jacket!"

"What? Haz, the café is like right there, you'll be fine."

Shit, they were closer than he thought. Was the drive really that short? "No, sorry, it's fine. I heard it was going to be really windy."

"I'll pick you up in an hour and a half, get out, have fun. See? That's him right there!"

Harry turned, and, yeah, wow. The guy was hot. Now he was hoping this kid really wasn't a creep. "You're practically drooling."