Maybe It Means Nothing

Title: Maybe It Means Nothing

Pairing(s): Harry/Louis

Rating: Teen & Up (Light Angst + Drunken Shenanigans!)

Word Count: 6,293

Summary: “Harry, what the fuck?” Louis shoved Harry's arms off of him, rolling his eyes at the taller boy's repetitions. He ran his fingers through his hair, then turned his gaze up at Harry, anger evident in his eyes. “You're really not minding the agreement very well right now.”

“I do not care,” Harry said neutrally, propping himself up against the sink, “I do not.” He shook his head and frowned at Louis.

Disclaimers: No triggers, just a little light angst. Enjoy. xo

~~~~~

Clink, slam!

Five shot glasses collided over the center of the table then struck the bartop. Each of the boys took their shot which they each followed with winces of varying intensity. Harry wiped his bottom lip as some of the bitter liquid tried to trickled out the corner of his mouth. He shook his head as if to shake the taste from his mouth. He yelled loudly as he tossed his hands in the air, receiving a strong high five from Niall in response.

The gathering of fans began to clear out some as the boys progressed further into the evening at the small French bar. It was a small dive bar modeled after an American bar despite any actual identifying evidence to suggest a basis on another nationality – it was just a bar. The room had a circular bar in the center of it with shelves around a center island behind the bartenders. It spanned across about a third of the room and was surrounded on both sides by dance areas marked with frosted glass floor tiles which bore colored lights underneath. The colors cycled a variety of cool colors: blue, green, and purple. Along the outer walls of the room, there were standing tables for those who did not wish to participate in the dancing. The members from One Direction had been gravitating around the bar, cycling back of forth between throwing back shots and dancing with the fans who had recognized their favorite band members.

Zayn winked at the female bartender as she slide a napkin across the bar to him. He shoved the note in his pocket and, when the bartender stepped away to help another customer, leaned in to Louis' ear and said, “I've got no idea what the hell this says.” He and Louis laughed the loud, cacophonous laugh trademarked by inebriation.

“I've gotten the his and some other words and phrases, but just basic stuff,” Louis said as he nodded another order of shots to the bartender, “but I haven't met a single person yet tonight who speaks English! I thought a lot of people here were supposed to know English pretty well, eh?”

“Not tonight,” Harry yelled, holding out his vowels in the way those who are incredibly intoxicated tended to, “Not. Tonight!” He grinned, throwing an arm around Louis shoulder. He started to giggle uncontrollably at a joke no one told and hid his sheepish grin by tucking his face into Louis' hair. He felt a swat against the skin of his shoulder as he pressed a kiss against Louis' head, so he pulled away to find Louis shooting his a wide-eyed look which clearly said 'Don't.' He grabbed a shot for himself from the five the bartender had placed in front of Louis, but, on the toss, was stopped by Louis cupping his hand over the top of the glass. Louis gave him a cross look which clearly implied he thought that Harry had had enough, but Harry blew a raspberry in Louis' face, startling the smaller boy long enough to finish his shot. He slammed the glass down on the table and yipped for a high five from Niall again. Louis wiped at the beads of spit on his face angrily then took his own shot.

“Loooouuuuiiiiis,” Harry slurred, throwing his arms around Louis' shoulders again. He was quickly rejected by Louis ducking under Harry's arms and pulling away from the bar and Harry. Harry followed Louis who was making a beeline straight to the toilet. Once Harry brushed past the door and they were inside the small room, he grabbed onto Louis' shoulders, concern evident on his face. “Are you going to going to throw up?”