Fall into your gravity (larry AU by Zarah5)

7

Fall Into Your Gravity - VII.

Charlotte's call wakes them at an ungodly hour in the morning. Like, half past nine or something, and shouldn't she be at school? Louis is sure hewas at school at half past nine, when he was her age.

"Not on a Sunday," Harry says, sounding disgustingly awake and right, okay, Sunday is also the reason Harry gets a day off from his hectic agenda, so Louis supposes he appreciates at least the reason behind Charlotte being able to call, if not the call itself. Because the call is likely about last night's pictures from the the restaurant.

Louis picks up with a crooked smile directed at Harry, signalling for him to keep quiet.

He doesn't feel great about lying, again, to his own sister about how Harry's a friend, yes, but not the kind of friend he'd feel comfortable inviting to a family dinner just yet -- all while he's draped across Harry's chest, both of them naked and Louis' index finger absently tracing a lovebite on Harry's throat that Louis himself put there.

Lovebite.

Lovebite.

He must have blanked out for a moment because when he focuses back on the present, Harry is looking at him with a raised brow and Charlotte is repeating his name.

"I'm here," Louis says, grinning down at Harry as he talks into the receiver. "But listen, Lottie, I just remembered I'm late for something. I'll see what I can do about Harry, okay?"

As soon as Louis ended the call, Harry says, "Harry wouldn't be completely opposed to joining you for a family dinner."

"Harry," Louis says, placing great weight on the name, "has no idea of the madness that is my family, and I'd rather not scare him away just yet, thanks."

"Not likely." Harry beams, all white teeth and happy crinkles around his eyes, and he's really fucking beautiful, God. Not that that's new.

"Harry," Louis pokes Harry's cheek, "needs to stop talking about himself in third person and also help me plant a lovebite on Liam."

A steep line appears between Harry's brows as he works out Louis' meaning, then he snorts. "That's mental. I love it."

"You can be the Robin to my Batman," Louis allows. "Someone needs to hold Liam down while I suck a real beauty into his skin."

"Just don't enjoy it too much."

The faint note of jealousy makes Louis laugh, grabbing Harry for a quick, smacking kiss. "This is a means to an end. You, Haz, are the only one I'dwant to leave with lovebites scattered all over your skin. Like a hands-off sign for the rest of the world."

"Good." Just like that, Harry's face clears. "Because you're the only one I'd want to do that."

Louis smiles and doesn't mention that given their situation, it's not really an option. Harry doesn't, either.

--

They corner Liam in the bathroom, and it's probably testimony to their general disregard for personal space that at first, he doesn't even blink an eye when they both push into the small room with him, just moves aside to grant them access to the washbasin, toothbrush dangling from his mouth. It's only when Harry cages him against the plastic shower partition, Liam's arms trapped by his side, that Liam seems to wake fully.

"What," he begins, and Louis beams at him.

"This'll hurt a bit," he says, moulding himself to Harry's side as he reaches for Liam. Louis can feel Harry immediately angling into him, a seemingly automatic reaction, and there is nothing about it that isn't beautiful. "But Liam, mate, this is for your own good."

Liam doesn't fight Harry's hold, appears confused rather than unsettled. In the bright glow of the lamp above the bathroom mirror, there is a painfully obvious hue of tired grey to his face. "Is this a weird invitation to some kind of threesome? Because, I mean, you're both handsome lads, but---"

"I love you, but no," Louis interrupts before this can get in any way awkward. He examines Liam's throat for a spot which will guarantee maximum visibility. Right next to his Adam's apple, yeah, that seems like a good place.

"Oh, hey," Harry puts in, his voice a low, amused rumble in Louis' ear. "I don't know. Liam is quite fit, isn't he?"

Slowly, very slowly, Louis turns his head. Counters Harry's smirk with a glare and reaches down to circle Harry's wrist in a tight grip, thumb pressing down on Harry's pulse point. "No," he repeats.

Harry's smirk drops, his lips parting on a gasp, and oh, oh, now that is most intriguing.

Fuck. Louis cannot get hard when he's about to suck a mark into the throat of one of his best mates. He's pretty sure that would be crossing a huge fucking line, even if it's all Harry's fault.

"Should I leave you to it?" Liam asks, sounding highly amused now. Louis misses the time when even the implication of sex made Liam blush and stutter, but after two years with Zayn and Louis, he's been properly corrupted, leaning against the plastic of the shower partition with an air of nonchalance even while faced with the hectic flush on Harry's cheeks that Louis finds deliciously hard to ignore.

(Hard, haha, oh God.)

Clearly, Liam is a much stronger man than Louis.

Forcing himself to release Harry's wrist, Louis turns his full attention to Liam. "Okay," he says. "Now, Zayn's not gonna like this. Which is the whole purpose, so."

He's latched onto Liam's throat before Liam has completed the confused sweep of his lashes.

"Fucker," Liam exclaims, trying to twist away, but Harry's hold on him is too tight and anyway, Louis steps back after a few more seconds to admire his work. Already, blood is pooling below the bruised skin and yeah, that should do nicely.

"Beautiful," Harry compliments, grinning as he lets go of Liam's arms and immediately ducks to evade Liam's attempt at retribution. After a glance at the mirror, Liam sighs. He looks back and forth between them before his mouth twists into a sad curve.

"You realise that Zayn won't care, right?"

Louis was planning to drag Harry back into bed after this, make the most of the time that's left before Harry's off to the US and Canada and fuck knows where else for the publicity tour that accompanies the release of his second album. Today and tomorrow are really all they have, but---Shit, abandoning Liam when he's like this, quietly miserable...

It's just not an option.

"You're wrong," Louis says. "He will care. In fact, he'll likely want to skin me alive if he ever finds out I did this, so how about we keep that between the three of us, hmm?" His gaze tangles with Harry's, and then they're both smiling, just slightly.

"You guys are disgusting," Liam tells them, and the wistful quality to his voice isn't lost on Louis.

Harry seems to catch it as well because he drapes a casual arm around Louis' shoulders and inclines his head at Liam, obviously striving for a light tone. "We're awesome and you should spend the day with us. I've always wanted to, like, hire a boat and cruise along the Thames, but I didn't actually get around to it. Also, I don't actually have a boat license."

"A minor concern." Louis sneaks an arm around Harry's waist. "I took my test in Australia."

"A man of many skills," Harry says, the fondness tucked into the corners of his eyes making liquid warmth pool in Louis' stomach.

"Shame that cooking isn't one of them," Liam inserts, and Louis drags his attention away from Harry to bestow a narrow gaze on Liam.

"I might end up accidentally drowning you."

Liam shrugs. "Can't fault a man for speaking the truth."

"A true friend would emphasise only my very best qualities in the presence of my boyfriend," Louis says and then, a moment too late, realises that this is the very first time he's allowed the word to leave the dark recesses of his mind, boyfriend.

When he glances at Harry, a little apprehensive, Harry is already looking at him with a wide smile, ruffling up his hair with one hand as if he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Louis is swamped with so much affection that it momentarily blinds him.

"Disgusting," Liam repeats, but he doesn't sound as if he means it.

--

Harry pulls his phone out between two bites of cereal, the morning sun glowing in his eyes, the heavy sweetness from Liam's plants in his nose and Louis' shoulder a comfortable weight against his own. What awaits him are several missed calls, a text from Niall and, amongst many other e-mails including one from Joanne with Harry's flight details, there is one from Nick with a red exclamation mark signalling its importance. Harry starts with Niall's text.

'Did u turn ur phone of?' it asks. 'Mngmnt is tryin to reach u, told them I don't know were u are. Say hi to lou!'

Harry did indeed turn his phone off yesterday, the moment he set foot onto the small boat they'd rented for the day, and then he'd somehow... forgotten to turn it back on. It might be the longest he's been out of touch in... well, a year, probably. It had been wonderful, though, letting everything else be, no threat of business requests intruding on a time that should, by all rights, belong to him. Sure, there had been a few people snapping pictures from bridges or other boats, but that had been few and far between.

Harry wonders whether he will always associate the gentle rocking motions of a boat with Louis, now.

Probably.

He takes another bite of cereal, peeks over at Louis' bowl and ponders whether Louis would let him get away with stealing some of those chocolate crunch thingies which float on top of the milk and were the first bits Harry had eaten. Again, the likely answer is yes.

When Harry leans over Louis' bowl, Louis clinks his spoon against Harry's, but doesn't actually move to stop him. His grin is so bright that Harry can't help but kiss him, his tongue chasing the taste of honeyed milk while his spoon is dripping onto the wooden boards.

"Still disgusting," Liam informs them, clearly trying to fight a smile. "Seriously, you guys make me sick."

With a show of reluctance, Harry pulls back and allows himself only one indulgent second of studying the way the sunlight makes Louis' eyes glitter. "You think we're adorable," Louis shoots back, flipping Liam the finger.

"As adorable as a one-eyed, giant toad." Liam turns a page of the paper, absently touching the lovebite blooming on his throat.

Louis snorts, his head on Harry's shoulder. "That's such a biology geek thing to say."

Yesterday taught Harry that this discussion might spin in circles for a while, so he swallows down the chocolate crunch thingies he stole from Louis and opens Nick's e-mail.

'You might want to ease up on the lovebites for a while,' Nick's message says. It was sent at half past six in the morning, Nick's rhythm too mangled by his Breakfast Show to sleep in even on weekends; Harry knows because Nick complains about it. Often.

The link attached to the e-mail leads to The Sun's online version, and Harry rubs at yet another mark Louis left below his collarbone last night, hidden underneath the t-shirt. It's with a faint sense of trepidation that he clicks on the link, bringing the phone closer to his face so as to identify the relevant parts of the article that pops up.

'Harry Styles: secret girlfriend?' the headline asks. It's illustrated with a picture taken during the restaurant dinner, a lovebite clearly visible on Harry's throat and circled in red, just in case any readers were to miss it.

Well, shit.

Harry skims through the article while Louis and Liam are still bickering without any heat behind their words, more a well-worn tradition than anything else. It isn't too bad, really, unfounded speculation about Harry having been suspiciously absent from London's clubbing scene, but one thing that does pull Harry up short is the claim that he's hardly spent a night at home since his return. Hmm.

His frown must have caught Louis' attention because suddenly, there's a light tug on his hair, Louis watching him closely. "Talk to me."

For a moment, Harry considers keeping this from Louis. It would be another lie by omission, though, and... And Louis deserves Harry's honesty. He does.

Wordlessly, Harry passes his phone over

He watches Louis' expression as he reads, sees Louis grow slightly pale beneath his tan. "It's hardly more than a blind gossip item," Harry says quickly. The paper rustles as Liam turns another page, clearly trying to project that he is not listening. "It's all just speculation."

"Really?" Passing the phone back, their fingers brush, and Louis glances down. "How do they know you didn't sleep at home?"

Straight to the point.

"I don't know." Harry sighs and shoves a hand through his hair. "Could be a lucky guess, or circumstantial evidence, like, no one spotting me coming in at night, I don't know." He'd rather not think about it, to be honest. This, the need to be constantly on edge and treat every person in his distant acquaintance as a potential informant of the press, is one of the things he definitely didn't sign up for.

"Okay." Louis' smile is hesitant. "I still get to see you tonight, right?"

It's the last night they have together, before Harry will be swept up in a hurricane of bullshit promotion that he wishes were over already. It's for his new album, though. He's proud of it, contributed heavily to some of the writing, and he is looking forward to playing the songs live, very much so.

Two weeks of his life are a small price to pay.

"Actually," Harry begins, trailing off when there are steps on the stairs. A second later, Zayn appears, and if his tousled hair, the loose-fitting jogging bottoms and thin sleeveless vest are any indication, he must have rolled straight out of bed.

Nothing but silence greets him.

"Good morning," he mutters eventually, squinting into the sun, and Harry and Louis echo the sentiment while Liam stares determinedly at his paper, head low.

Zayn stretches out on a deck chair and seems to sink right back into a nap, his arms crossed on his stomach. He's classically beautiful, high cheekbones and long lashes, but while Harry can appreciate it on an aesthetical level, he meets a lot of beautiful people in his line of work and none of them are as easily enchanting as Louis, or have that glint of mischief in their eyes which attracted Harry in the first place.

When Harry turns away, he notices that now that Zayn's eyes are closed and there is no risk of being caught, Liam is openly staring at Zayn's profile. It's a bit ridiculous, and also a lot sad.

Meeting Louis' eyes, they share a crooked smile before Harry picks the thread of their conversation back up. Plans for the night, right. "Actually," he says, "we have this tradition, like, before we leave for a big event or a tour or something like that, the band gets together for dinner the evening before. It's, like, for the team spirit or something?"

"Oh." Louis' gaze flicks away. "Yeah, no, I get that. Makes sense."

"No, hey." Harry's protest may have been overly abrupt because on the edge of his vision, he notices movement, Zayn sitting up. Ignoring anything but the tight set of Louis' jaw, Harry leans towards him. "Let me finish. It's band plus girlfriends, because yeah, taking the last night away from the couples didn't go down well, so. And, like..." Oh, this is awkward. Harry is not usually this socially incompetent, he really isn't, but the way Louis is watching him, all serious and intent, makes Harry stumble over his words. "You're not a girlfriend, obviously, but everyone else is single at the moment, so there's no risk of an outsider blabbing, and..."

"Harry." A hint of amusement has snuck into Louis' voice, lurking in the corners of his mouth. "What are you trying to say?"

"Basically..." Harry bites his lip. "I'm asking you to come."

A sudden smile flashes over Louis' face, tugging at something in Harry's chest. "I'd love to," Louis says, grabbing Harry's chin to pull him into a kiss---which is when Zayn makes an abrupt noise that startles them apart.

"What," Zayn says, his voice dangerously even as he stares at Liam's throat, "the fuck is that?"

Louis drops his hand and turns around for a smirk. "I think," he states with great relish, "that it's what Americans call a hickey. Lovely word, hickey."

Tucking his phone out of sight, Harry waits for the scene to unfold. "Where's the popcorn when you need it?" he whispers to Louis, and one corner of Louis' mouth twitches before his face smoothes over again.

"What the fuck, Liam?" Zayn asks, and Liam raises his head in a stubborn gesture, fingers tight where he's clutching the paper.

"What's it to you?" His voice is sharp in a way Harry hasn't heard before, exasperated and hurt at the same time. "You walked out, Zayn. Not me,you. Now you suddenly decide to care? You have no fucking right."

"Oh, come on." Zayn's tone is mocking, but the line of his jaw is tense. Glancing back and forth between him and Liam, both of them glaring at each other from across the roof, Harry feels like an intruder, the situation a lot less funny than he expected, somehow. "I walked out? We both know what this is about."

"We do?" Liam snorts. "Enlighten me."

Harry leans into Louis, asks quietly, "Should we leave?"

"We'd only draw attention," Louis replies, equally quiet. His elbow digs into Harry's stomach and he shifts to sling an arm around Harry's waist instead, slotting them together. "Let's just pretend we're not even here. We're invisible. We're air."

"Air," Harry repeats, shaking his head. They're close enough that his hair brushes Louis' cheek, and Louis twists to look at him, touches a finger to his lips with a conspiratorial grin. Okay then, air it is.

Harry must have missed a slice of Liam and Zayn's exchange because when he tunes back in, it's to Zayn biting out, "Well, I'm not the one who's in love with someone else."

There's a beat of silence, then Liam drops his paper and gets up. His face is unreadable. "Excuse me, but what?"

"Louis," Zayn says, as if that's supposed to be an actual answer. Which, what? It absolutely isn't because, okay, Liam is not in love with Louis, definitely not, even though Harry isn't sure he fully understands people who aren't at least a little bit in love with Louis, but---But, Louis is his.

Harry angles further into Louis, covers the hand on his waist with his own. When Louis glances over, he looks as astonished as Harry feels.

"Air," Harry whispers, and Louis' mouth quirks into a smile.

"What about Louis?" Liam asks, and still it's hard to read what's going on in his head. Blinking against the sun, Harry holds himself very still.

Zayn shifts his stance, seeming rather less certain of himself now. "You told me you had a crush on him." It comes out as a cross between a statement and a question.

"That was two years ago," Liam says, and Louis squeaks out a, "Really?" If circumstances were different, Harry would tease him about it; as it is, he really doesn't like the turn this conversation has taken. He tightens his hold on Louis' hand and tries not to glare at anyone.

Also, whatever happened to them impersonating air?

Liam tilts his head, seeming confused for a moment that Harry and Louis are even there. Then he grins, slightly sheepish. "Yeah, really. Don't let it get to your head, Lou, but you can be quite... I don't know." He shrugs his shoulders. "Magnetic, maybe? But." With that, he turns back to Zayn. "It was a crush, Zayn. I didn't even know you guys that well, and I only told you because I was a little tipsy. Also, now that I actually really know Louis, I know that I'd probably end up killing him, if I were to date him for longer than a day."

"Hey," Louis protests, eyes bright with laughter, and something in Harry's stomach settles.

"You can't date him anyway," Harry tells Liam. "He's mine, see." Pulling Louis into his lap, Harry is gratified that Louis comes easily, openly grinning now. As Liam is watching them with warm amusement, the only one still frowning is Zayn.

"I don't want to date Louis," Liam assures them. "No offense."

"None taken," Louis replies just as Zayn cuts in with, "You don't?"

"I don't." Liam shakes his head, his posture easy, but there's a hopeful tilt to his smile as if, for the first time, he's allowing himself to consider the option that Zayn indeed cares when he so obviously does. "It was never more than a crush, okay?"

"You're not in love with Louis." Zayn's face is stunned.

"I'm not in love with Louis," Liam agrees, and then he suddenly laughs, takes a step towards Zayn. "Oh my God, you really thought that? Is that why you---?"

"Shut up," Zayn grumbles, and then he's grabbing Liam, both hands fisted in Liam's shirt to pull him in and---And Harry really doesn't need to seethis, okay, although it is vaguely beautiful. Speaking, again, from a strictly aesthetical point of view. Two attractive males snogging, well, it is a sight which any not-entirely-straight guy would appreciate, right?

That's when Louis covers Harry's eyes with one hand, leaning in with his breath hot on Harry's cheek. "You really don't want to see this," he murmurs.

Harry grins, blinks so his lashes brush Louis' palm. "I really do."

"I don't want you to see this," Louis corrects. "You will not stare at my friends, Haz, and especially not while I am right here and you could be staring at me instead."

Someone bumps into something, and while Harry is a little curious, he isn't so curious as to let it distract him from how Louis is all up in his space, fingers tight on Harry's waist, his other hand still covering Harry's eyes and oh, hey, now there's a thought.

"Or," Harry suggests in an undertone, "I could be not staring at you in your room, because, like, you could blindfold me."

Louis exhales against Harry's skin, and his answer comes with a barely noticeable delay. "Yeah," he says, voice rougher than before. "Yeah, pretty sure I could do that."

Then he takes his hand away and pulls Harry to his feet, tugging him along too urgently for Harry to catch more than a glimpse of Liam pressing Zayn back against the railing, in plain view of the neighbours in a way Harry can't allow himself to be seen with Louis.

He swallows the thought down.

--

Louis feels under observation. Unfortunately, he can't just blame it on unfounded paranoia because the doorman indeed has been watching him like a hawk ever since Louis walked into the lobby and it turned out neither Harry nor Niall were home yet.

Harry's, 'Sorry running late see you Ina few' had arrived a couple of minutes later, but it hadn't been enough to dispel the glint of distrust in the doorman's eyes. Security officer? Whatever.

And okay, Louis gets that this is very serious business, especially since Harry and Niall are apparently not the only famous residents, but sheesh, it's not as if Louis will make a running leap for the stairs the moment the bloke so much as blinks.

Actually, come to think of it...

When Niall enters, he brings with him a blast of warm summer air that whirls through the conditioned lobby. "Louis, my man!" His grin is faintly manic, or maybe just normal for him. "Evening, Mr Shaw."

The doorman's frown is wiped blank. "Good evening, Mr Horan."

"Sorry for the wait," Niall tells Louis. "Management briefing for the promo tour ran a bit over time, and Harry forgot, like, half the ingredients for tonight's fajitas, so he had to take a detour."

"No worries." Louis sticks his hands in his pocket and rocks back on his heels, grinning. "Mr Shaw and I were on our way to becoming the best of pals."

Mr Shaw doesn't blink an eye.

Niall, on the other hand, laughs loudly and slings an arm around Louis' shoulders, turning them both to face the reception desk. "Remember this face, please? This is Louis Tomlinson, and I personally clear him for access without needing to check first. He'll be around a fair bit."

"Your trust honours me, mate." Louis pretends to wipe a tear off his cheek.

"Don't abuse it," Niall says, all stern, and a second later, he's laughing again. "Come on, let's go on up and raid the freezer. I think Harry already filled it with ice cream for tonight."

"I like the way you think." Louis nods gravely, and then he dashes towards the stairs, just like he's been meaning to do for the last ten minutes, Niall hot on his heels.

Once they're out of hearing range, Louis slows his steps, waits for Niall to catch up. "So, aimless question here: In theory, a doorman would know whether Harry spent the night at home, is that correct? Like, just now, I saw this guy enter my name into some system when he checked my ID, so I suppose they keep a log?"

Niall is quiet for a moment. Then he sighs, his face uncommonly serious. "I know what you're getting at, okay? And yes, it's possible." He reaches into his pocket to fish out his keys, dangling them from one finger. "But the thing is, there are five different blokes on rotation, and even if one of them is talking to the press, there's no way to tell which."

It all makes sense in a way Louis doesn't like one bit. He studies Niall's profile and says, carefully, "That must suck, sometimes. Not knowing who to trust."

"You get better at telling the nice guys from the fuckers." Niall tosses his keys in the air, catches them and grins, although it comes with an edge. "Even Harry is better at it now, although he still likes to believe the best of people."

Harry told him that he's known Niall since they were five and Niall had moved into his street, claiming that both the Irish accent and Niall's impressive range of swearwords, given his age, had immediately endeared him to Harry. It implies that they've been through a lot together, and considering what Niall just said about Harry being a little too trusting for his own good... Well, maybe Louis is beginning to appreciate Niall on a whole new level.

"That's why you were all up in my face the first time we met," Louis says, not really a question, but Niall nods anyway.

"Absolutely, mate. Strange bloke on our sofa, of course I'm gonna be bloody concerned." He hip-checks Louis, then moves past him to unlock the door to the flat, glancing back over his shoulder. "You're alright, though. I s'pose."

"You're not too bad yourself." Louis smirks, pausing for a calculated second before he adds, "For a tiny guy with a weird bleach job, that is. Seriously, did something crawl up your head and die?"

"Well, you're not exactly taller than me," Niall says comfortably. "So fuck off, mate."

Louis generously ignores the part related to his height, following Niall into the flat. "I'd rather fuck Harry, if that's okay with you."

"Overshare," Niall exclaims loudly. He even goes so far as to cover his ears, toeing his shoes off without bothering to untie the laces.

Louis laughs. "Whatever gets you to shut up."

"Ice cream would get me to shut up," Niall says. "I mean, Harry bought it for tonight and he'll be on our arses if we---"

"On our arses?" Louis interrupts, smirking. "Really?"

Niall snickers, his eyes crinkling and his cheeks flushing a delightful pink. He's quite easily amused; Louis likes that in a person. "Anyway, yeah," Niall picks his original thread back up. "He'll nag, but the freezer's filled to the brim and if you're as guilty as I am, you can just distract him."

"Oh, I can do that." Louis inserts thick innuendo into the statement, then waits for Niall to high-five him before he adds, "And ice cream is the best idea I've heard in the last couple of hours. I want pistachio."

"You're weird," Niall says. It sounds like a compliment.

--

Louis offered to help Harry prepare the food, twice, and he initially thought Harry was simply smart in refusing and remembered Liam's comment about Louis' utter lack of kitchen skills. It's Niall who explains, without bothering to lower his voice, that no, it's just Harry being ridiculous because he always insists that these dinners are all him, advance gratitude for being able to rely on his band for the following event or tour or whatever, and also an unnecessary apology for how things will be about him, mostly.

"Not unnecessary," Harry protests, his face flushed with heat from the oven, a smudge of flour on one cheek.

If Louis hadn't been in love with Harry before, he would be, now.

So he spends his time watching Harry, sitting on the work surface with his legs dangling. Harry's band mates trickle in one after another, and Louis tries to remember the names of people who have obviously been warned in advance because none of them shows any surprise at his presence, but they all come over to check him out, one by one, asking innocent questions while observing him closely, and he can't blame them. In fact, he rather likes them for being this protective of Harry.

Louis can empathise.

Right off the bat, Josh comes in a close second to Niall in Louis' favour because he doesn't bother with smalltalk, just claps Louis on the shoulder and says, "So you're the reason why the second half of our greenhouse photo shoot went a lot better than the first, then?"

"Did it?" Louis asks, beaming. "Tell me more."

In passing, Harry slaps them with a towel, and Louis thinks that, if he could stop time, this would be the moment he'd want to inhabit forever.

--

Later, when they're naked, skin sticky with sweat and come and lube, Louis pulls Harry closer even though they should probably shower. A shower sounds like too much effort, though, and hey, tomorrow is soon enough, totally.

"This dinner thing," he says against Harry's temple, "was that like a trial run to meeting the family?"

Harry laughs softly, eyes open and huge in the darkness of his bedroom. "The lads loved you."

"Of course they did. Everyone loves me." Louis shifts, a twinge of discomfort in his bum because it's been a while since he allowed anyone to fuck him, and Harry is... Well. His cock is proportionate. Louis is not a size queen, but damn, he kind of likes the thought that he'll be feeling this in the morning.

"So modest." Harry pinches his side. "You're claiming to be good with families, then?"

Before he replies, Louis reaches for a pillow and smacks Harry in retaliation. "Eh, I really wouldn't know. I was only put through it once, and that was sprung on me by surprise."

"Fear of commitment?" Harry's tone is off-handed, but Louis doesn't miss the way Harry holds himself a little too still, his gaze trained on Louis' face, and really, Louis doesn't understand how Harry manages to combine his abundance of cheeky charm with random moments of insecurity.

Also, Harry is rather blind if he can't see just how stupid Louis is for him.

"No," Louis says lightly. "It just never really worked out that way for me, as in, long-term relationships. Doesn't mean I never wanted it to."

"Yeah. Same here." Harry's smile is small, and Louis reaches over to touch it, feels it grow under his fingertips.

"I'll miss this," Louis tells him because fuck, he will. It's scary how quickly Harry has managed to insert himself into every nook and cranny of Louis' life.

"The sex?" Harry asks, still smiling.

"Amongst other things." Louis slots their bodies together, sticky skin and all, and it's okay because at least they're both disgusting. They can be dirty together, heh. "I wish I could take you to the airport," he adds, after a second of silence.

"You could," Harry says.

"No." Louis shakes his head, pulling back slightly to look at Harry, their gazes tangling, holding. "Not after that article today, I can't."

"It's just an online blurb." Harry's voice is dismissive, and Louis wonders whom Harry is trying to convince; it's not Louis' career on the line here. Louis might not wear pink, glittery t-shirts -- well, he might not wear them often -- but he's never made a secret of his sexuality after he started his studies. The worst that can happen to Louis is a sister intent on murdering him in his sleep.

Speaking of... "It might be an online blurb, but people are reading it. My sister, Lottie, she called me for insider information on your secret girlfriend."

Harry snorts like it's all a big joke, utterly unconcerned, and Louis wonders at what point their roles became reversed. Maybe at the point when Louis really, truly started caring.

This is not good. Louis is chronically bad at acting responsibly, and if Harry's not keeping them in check, they're bound to slip up. Already, they may have left a trail of scattered clues if anyone cares to gather them up and arrange them into a picture.

"What did you tell her?" Harry asks, and Louis shoves his concerns aside for the moment.

"That I'm pretty sure you don't have a girlfriend," he says, rolling on top of Harry.

"True." Harry beams up at him, his hair wild, his face carefree and beautiful, so fucking beautiful. "Got a boyfriend, though."

Tugging at a curl, Louis nods. "And don't you forget it while you're on the road."

"Not a chance." Harry shakes his head. "Just don't you allow Liam to seduce you. I am the jealous sort."

Louis leans down to kiss the dimple in Harry's left cheek because God, how could he resist? Harry Styles is more than Louis can be expected to handle, he really is. "Ha. By the way, when I left, he and Zayn were still holed up in Zayn's room." Louis lets his grin show. "They'll probably make me puke on a daily basis now."

"You're happy for them," Harry says, all quiet and fond.

"Yeah," Louis admits and adds, without really thinking, "It's always easier to be happy for others when you're happy yourself, isn't it?"

"Me too," Harry says. While it is not a logical answer to the question, it makes sense all the same. He's silent for a moment, just studying Louis' face, before he smiles again. "I'll call whenever I get a minute and it's not, like, the middle of the night here."

"Call me whenever." Louis leans down until their noses are bumping, so close that Harry's features are starting to blur. He continues in a low voice. "It's still a couple of weeks until the term starts, okay? I don't need sleep when I can talk to you instead."

Harry doesn't reply, but the way he tangles both hands in Louis' hair and tugs him into a kiss might be answer enough.

--

It isn't until the next morning, back at home, that Louis discovers the iPod Harry snuck into Louis' backpack. There's a note taped to it which says, in a happy scrawl, 'This has lots of music I like to listen to, but it also has the new album. If you want an advance listen. I hope you like it, but please be honest if you don't? .xx'

The flat is completely silent, the door to Zayn's room firmly shut, and Louis collects his headphones and stretches out on the roof terrace to listen.

In all honesty, it is a bit different from the music he usually enjoys, mainly because the lyrics are clearly targeted at a teen audience, sappy declarations of love and lust although there are a also a couple of songs which are more quirky, 'you still have to squeeze into your jeans' and 'Midnight ain't no time for laughing,' and he likes those immediately.

Once he hits replay and turns his attention to Harry's voice and the music, his doubts melt away. It's different, yes, but it's good.

WhatsApp informs him that it's been only a couple of minutes since Harry's last online activity, so Louis takes a picture of himself with his headphones on, squinting into the sun. While it turns out a bit overexposed and not perfectly focused, Louis likes how wide his grin is. He sends the picture along with a text which says, 'Love it ! I wanna have sex with your voice'

Harry writes back within a minute. 'You already did, kind of :)'

Louis is willing to bet that Harry was tempted, very tempted, to turn his smiley into a face with the letter O for a mouth; when it comes down to it, Harry really is an adorable dork.

'Ha !' Louis replies. 'I demand phone sex . Call me ?'

Again, it takes hardly a minute before his phone buzzes with an answer. 'Don't do this when I have to turn my phone off any moment for the flight! No fair.'

It's a good thing Louis is all alone on the roof because it means that no one can see his stupid grin. 'Don't join the mile high club without me'

'Wouldn't dare,' Harry's first text says, the second following right after. 'I'll see you in two weeks, Lou. Talk to you sooner.'

'Good luck, popstar,' Louis writes. There is no reply, the time for Harry's last online activity frozen on a few minutes ago, so he appears to have turned his phone off. With a sigh, Louis sets his own phone aside.

Shit, it's going to be a long two weeks.