Larry Stylinson ao3 one shots.

Didn't think it would work out

Written by:swirlingchaos

Summary:
There was no way he could let it happen, the prospect of working with Harry for the next two months or so seemed like a nightmare specially designed for him. From hell. By the devil himself, probably. Perfect torture, fit amazingly well with the self-destructive path he'd been on for a year now, Louis clearly had to say no.
"'Course, yeah, I'll clear it with Simon then, brilliant, cheers mate," Fuck.
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Or, Louis is a primary school teacher, Harry has a 7-year-old son in his class, Louis has a 1-year-old crush on Harry, and they have to put on the school's Christmas play. Brilliant.

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Work Text:
The day Louis Tomlinson's life changed forever (a day he'd dub as "what even was today" at the end of it, and simply "lucky" later on), started at the ungodly hour (by Louis' and any other sane person's standards) of 7:46 am. It was a Wednesday, which meant that Louis' alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another hour and a half, so his phone had no business ringing.
Confused and groggy with sleep, as he had been asleep for a grand total of four hours (fuck diagnostic tests, really), he groaned and fumbled around for the offending item, which he found precariously placed by his pillow (fell asleep with the phone in your hand again, great going Tommo).
He groaned louder when, with one eye open, he saw who was calling. This couldn't be good.
Pain *cactus emoji*. (He really should change that contact name.)
"What," he asked the dark empty room. He managed to accept the call, after deciding that ignoring it would probably only make Liam appear in his doorway instead.
"What," he repeated to his phone, as he burrowed further into his blankets.
"Tommo!" came Liam's far too cheerful tone for... Louis squinted at his phone—7:48 am Jesus Christ. Louis hated him. "Are you up mate? I haven't woken you, have I?"
"Not at all Liam, I got up with the sun to feed my chickens and milk my cow."
"But you haven't got any ch—" Liam seemed to think better than to question him and moved on. "Anyway, I forgot to tell you yesterday that headmaster Cowell wants a meeting at 8:30 today. Said it was urgent."
"Eight thi—no, Liam what the fuck—no. It's my free morning, I'm not even supposed to be awake, can't you get Malik to go?" Louis mumbled into his pillow, not managing to muster enough indignation to raise his voice in his sleep-deprived state.
Liam laughed in his ear. "No chance mate, you know I couldn't wake Zayn this early even if I wanted to," there was a slight pause, and Louis barely made out what came next. "And I wouldn't, he's cute when he—" Louis snickered, Liam's totally straight no homo crush on Zayn was endlessly entertaining. Liam hurried on, "in any case, he asked for you specifically, not just any teacher, so I suggest you get a move on."
Louis' mirth died as he realised what this meant. "Fuck, I won't even have time to do my hair!"
"Please, as if this would be the first time you wore a beanie to school."
"You wound me Payne, I can't believe you would disrespect me like this."
"See you soon Tommo, and remember—"
"I'm hanging up now Liam," Louis sighed and ended the call. "Wanker," he muttered to himself, but it was said with affection.
When Louis had first joined the staff as the new Year 2 teacher, Liam had come off to him as stern, no nonsense, incredibly efficient. Excellent qualities for a secretary, but quite at odds with Louis' own personality. Sure, Louis was capable of being serious, he had good work ethics, but there was always room for general silliness and shenanigans if you asked him. So he hadn't exactly gotten on with Liam. In a bizarre twist of events, they'd grown to be the best of friends after getting totally wasted on cheap alcohol at the school's Christmas party and singing song after song in the karaoke. After that, Louis had taken it upon himself to further corrupt Liam and bring his more carefree side out, which Liam seemed open to. Louis was glad he'd managed to make him come around, as he and Liam made a good team. Maybe Liam had earned a nicer contact name and emoji after all this time; Louis reminded himself to change it.
It was now 7:50 am, which meant that Louis had about 20 minutes to shower, attempt to do his hair, get dressed, and not have breakfast. He would have to get his obligatory morning tea at school, the mere thought of which was enough to put him in a cranky mood for the rest of the day. They didn't have Yorkshire in the school canteen, the heathens, and he'd finished his own stash in his desk yesterday. He could take some bags from home, but—shit, he'd run out of those too last night in his last minute grading frenzy. Fuck, he was shit at grocery shopping, how could he let this happen? Did he even have cereal? Maybe he could run to the shop and get his tea if the meeting didn't take too long—fuck, the meeting! He'd lost five precious minutes still lying in bed while his thoughts had run away from him.
Louis jumped out of bed, annoyed with himself. Bad way to start the day, and he could only imagine it would get worse.

It did. It got worse. He was late for the meeting. He'd managed to leave his flat just three minutes behind schedule, his hair in a sad unstyled fringe and no tea in his system. And then he got stuck in traffic. He'd been living in this town for a year now, and he'd never experienced a traffic jam like this once. But of course, this had to be the day there was a three-car/lorry collision, and the detours were a nightmare.
By the time he finally sat down in the headmaster's office, Louis was practically fuming and not in the least inclined to get a lecture on punctuality (again), and why the hell hadn't they arranged the meeting with him yesterday? So he was definitely not prepared for what came out of the other man's mouth, with no preamble at all:
"I'm putting you in charge of the Christmas play, Louis."
Louis couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't until he registered Simon's completely serious face that he remembered Simon wasn't known for making jokes; sarcastic, cutting remarks were his thing. His laughter died, leaving an incredulous look on his face.
"You can't be serious!"
"Trust me Louis, I would never joke about the Christmas play. You know that Old Louis retired, there was a reason we had you assist him last year..." Simon said, leaning back on his chair. "You'll be great, you've got experience, you were the obvious choice!"
"B-but—no, I'm, you can't just—"
"Louis, it's decided," Simon interrupted him firmly. "You'll get free reign over everything, you get to choose what play and all. Of course, everyone from the staff will be here to help you, and I'm sure it'll be fantastic."
Simon finished with a smile and looked at Louis expectantly. Louis' mouth was still half-open, eyes wide. He wasn't getting out of this, he could tell by the firm set of Simon's shoulders, so he just nodded and asked to be excused. He needed to have a proper meltdown, preferably with no witnesses. Simon dismissed him with a wave of his hand, calling "We'll fix the details later then!" after Louis' fast retreating form.

Louis splashed water on his face and took a deep breath. Or five. He could do this. He totally had this. He was completely capable of handling the 20+ kids from the drama club, of picking a suitable play, deciding who'd play who, preparing sets—oh god he couldn't do this.
Sure, last year he'd helped Old Louis, the senior teacher at school. He was a lovely man, who'd taken a barely experienced Louis under his wing ("we share a name young man, we've got to stick together, eh?"). The kids had started calling them Old Louis and New Louis (much to Louis' embarrassment and Old Louis' good-natured amusement). Then Louis had let slip that his friends called him Tommo, and that's what everyone called him now, even the rest of the staff (apart from Simon). The thought of the older teacher calmed him down a little - surely he'd be willing to help him out occasionally if Louis needed him.
"Right Tomlinson, get it together," he muttered to himself, looking down at the sink and gripping its sides. "You can—I can do this."
"Did I walk in on a crisis?" a low, amused drawl came from behind Louis, and no nonono no please go away no. He closed his eyes, shoulders tensing. Louis would recognise that voice anywhere, and it, along with the man it belonged to, was the last thing he needed right now. When Louis didn't move, the voice spoke again, more tentative and concerned, fuck. "Louis? Are you alright?"
"Fine!" Louis chirped, forcing a smile and turning around to face the man, wishing to get this over with as quickly as possible. He instantly regretted this move, because—fuck. The man leaning on the wall opposite him, Harry Styles, local woodworker, single parent to little Lucas, looked utterly gorgeous today, as usual. Long, strong legs squeezed tight in skinny jeans (tighter than Louis himself dared wear to school), loose black tshirt hanging from his broad frame, green eyes warm below a worried frown, long wet-dark hair pulled up in a bun. Louis didn't understand how the man could pull that one off, but he did. At least his hair wasn't loose and curly under a scarf, as he usually wore it, or worse, like that one time he'd come to pick up his son with one side of his hair in a french braid. That had been almost enough to send Louis into cardiac arrest. No, this was incredibly unfair, he hadn't even had his tea yet, and it wasn't even 9 in the morning, and why did the universe hate him so much today?
The thing was, since the first time Louis had set eyes on Harry (almost a year before, in these same toilets, coincidentally), he'd been harbouring a major crush on him. He'd been instantly charmed by the young man, despite the fact that their first interaction had consisted of Harry slipping on the wet floor, Louis trying to steady him and both of them ending up on their bums, all before they'd even exchanged words. Harry had said "oops", Louis had rather ridiculously replied "hi" as he gave him a hand to get him to his feet again, and that was that.
Louis had never seen him at the school before, and as he'd later told Zayn in the teachers' lounge, head in hands in utter embarrassment, he had been "about to flirt with the bloke, and then he goes and says he's a parent, asks me if I'm the new teacher his son has been telling him about!" Louis had groaned.
Zayn had just laughed while Louis scowled at him. He had immediately bonded with him in his first week there; Zayn was the Year 1 teacher, and he'd briefed him on the group Louis would get, helped him find his way and generally been a supporting friend, so Louis was a bit offended that Zayn would laugh at him like that.
"Mate, I reckon it would've been fine if you'd gone ahead," Zayn had said, and Louis had stared at him until he elaborated, "Yeah, he's got a kid, but he's gay, out and proud, and single."
"But, he's got a six-year-old kid, and he can't possibly be older than me..." Louis couldn't help it, he was curious.
"Ah well, he had him when he was quite young y'know? I'm sure you can guess the story there. Anyway, he's a nice lad and he's raised a lovely boy, we usually hang out—"
"When?" Louis had interrupted him. "I've been here for a month and I'd never seen him, where have you been hiding him?" Louis faked gasped, "Do I embarrass you Zayn? Am I—"
"Come off it Tommo, he's just been away on business is all," Zayn interrupted him in turn, running a hand through his long dark hair in exasperation. He paused for a moment, and seemed to get a brilliant idea, if the glint in his brown eyes was anything to go by. Louis would punch him in face, if he didn't feel like messing with such a perfect face should be a crime. "You should come to the pub tonight and meet him proper, maybe you two could hit it off?"
"Nope, no Zayn, I can try being mates with him, but his kid is going to be my student next year, I couldn't possibly get involved with a parent, no way," Louis had been determined, but the little hope he'd felt when Zayn said Harry was gay refused to die.
Zayn had shrugged, but he'd stared at him pointedly that night at the pub, keeping track of their interactions. As Zayn had predicted (and Louis himself had felt in their brief toilet encounter), Louis just clicked so well with Harry it was scary. In no time at all, they were bantering, Harry keeping up with him in a way scarcely anyone did, teaming up to tease Zayn, Harry laughing at every silly thing Louis said or did. The man was just lovely, with his flushed cheeks and his long hair held back with a delicate silk scarf. As the night progressed and Louis lost his inhibitions to alcohol, he'd asked Harry if he could touch his hair when the man took off the scarf to retie it, and Harry had cheerfully tilted his head. Louis had almost whimpered when his fingers had tangled around the hair by his ear. It would've been more embarrassing if he hadn't been able to tell that Harry seemed similarly affected, tying his scarf around his wrist and leaving his curls free to Louis' access. Zayn had left the table around this point.
So yeah, Zayn had been right, but Louis was right too. He just couldn't let it happen, not in his first year at this new school, not with a man whose son he'd most likely have in his class the following year. And so Louis found himself withdrawing from Harry as they were about to call it a night and Harry's interest was growing obvious, much to Louis' dismay. Why was this happening to him? The first man he'd liked in ages apparently liked him back, and he was off limits. He'd declined his offer of a beer at his place with a brash "I don't think that would be a good idea, mate", even if getting those words out almost physically hurt him. Louis wanted to kick himself in the shin every time he remembered how Harry had visibly deflated as he nodded, and he had to remind himself he had reasons.
Said reasons felt more and more feeble as time passed and Louis got to know Harry better. Their interactions had been awkward at first after that first night, Harry seeming to understand and respect Louis' decision, but still subtly letting him know he was interested. Things had improved after Christmas when Louis brought along a newly befriended Liam, and Louis began hoping he and Harry could just be mates. If only he could get over his silly infatuation, and Harry could just stop looking at him with such unmasked want in his eyes, even after a year.
The problem was, he didn't want to get over him, and he definitely didn't want Harry looking at anyone else like that. Basically, he was screwed. If he was being honest with himself (and he'd deny it to anyone else if ever brought up), he kept doing things to get Harry's attention while pretending he himself was completely uninterested, which was rather unhealthy. One of his tactics was making an effort in his Wednesday morning routine to look his best, as that was usually the first day of the week he saw Harry (it was his first day of his shared custody of his kid). Which was another reason he'd been so annoyed at having to rush from his flat that morning, meaning he was now facing Harry with his hair looking a right mess on top of looking like he was on the brink of a meltdown.
Louis tried to compose himself, but judging from Harry's confused face, which he could see through the mirror as he washed his hands, he wasn't doing a very good job. Harry was still leaning on the wall, right next to the paper towel dispenser, which made Louis curse inwardly. Proximity to Harry Styles was never a good thing. Neither of them had said another word, and while Louis was sure his forced smile was borderline manic by now, Harry seemed content to wait it out, as usual, damn him.
Shaking his hands out a bit, he walked the few steps towards the dispenser, not looking up from the floor. He pulled on the lever to make the paper unroll, and then increasingly more forcefully when nothing happened.
"Louis," Harry said gently. Louis attacked the lever and ignored him.
"Lou," Harry tried again, to no avail. "Louis!" he said a bit more loudly, taking Louis' hand. He unjammed the massive amount of paper that had accumulated inside the machine, cutting a piece and placing it in Louis' hand. Louis was definitely not blushing, he didn't blush (except he did, and he was) as he took the paper and dried his face.
"Soooo, are you going to explain why you were like, talking to yourself in the mirror and assaulted the towel dispenser or..." Harry asked, as Louis knew he would. He pressed the paper to his eyes. "You don't have to tell me of course, but maybe I could help..." he trailed off uncertainly.
"Oh, it's nothing really, nothing to worry about at all Harry, thanks for the concern, gotta go now, you know, teaching, classes, education!" Louis knew his voice was on the verge of hysteria with how fast he was talking, he knew he would never ever live this down, he just wanted to get out of the bloody bathroom, get his tea, and possibly dig a tunnel to Australia.
Harry seemed to ignore him, "Okay, I'm going to get Zayn, or do you want Liam?"
"Fu—no, fine," Louis took a deep breath. "I'm freaking out 'cause I'm in charge of the bleeding Christmas play, there, it's out, I'm a shoddy teacher."
"Um, okay, I understand? Or wait, no, didn't you like, do this last year?" Harry said.
"Yeah but I was like, only assisting, I'm in charge now Harry and—well, it's kind of scary to be honest," Louis replied, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding Harry's gaze for as long as possible. He couldn't hold out for long, he could feel Harry was just patiently waiting for him to look up before he spoke. He looked up and repressed a shiver.
Harry was just calmly staring at him, arms crossed across his chest and the beginnings of a fond smile on his lips, a smile Louis knew too well and often found directed at himself, much to his delight and frustration.  Louis didn't understand why the man wasn't running to the headmaster's office, demanding Louis' instant dismissal or something. He had just confessed to being a mediocre teacher at best. Fuck, his kid was in the drama club, this couldn't get any worse.
"Okay, so you need help?" Harry simply asked.
"I—I guess? I erm... see, I was good with running lines with the kids but then there's things like—I was thinking of asking Zayn, because he's good at the art thing, and like, last year Old Louis took care of the costumes and the sets and I'm sure I don't even know how to hold a hammer properly, maybe Liam knows, he looks like the type of bloke who knows his tools—"Louis babbled on until, for the second time in an hour, things got worse.
"Right, I volunteer then, if you'd like, have me?"
Oh no, this can't be happening.
"Well I ah, um, but I'm not sure that's allowed like, parents? Anyway I'm not sure how you could help—"
"Louis, I work with wood," Harry deadpanned, interrupting his panicked rambling. There was a slightly hurt tone in his voice that he couldn't hide.
Fuck, Louis was so screwed. How had his brain managed to forget that pretty fucking basic detail? But there was no way he could let it happen, the prospect of working with Harry for the next two months or so seemed like a nightmare specially designed for him. From hell. By the devil himself, probably. Perfect torture, fit amazingly well with the self-destructive path he'd been on for a year now, Louis clearly had to say no.
"'Course, yeah, I'll clear it with Simon then, brilliant, cheers mate," Fuck. Louis tried to give Harry a more convincing smile this time.
It seemed to work, because the smile he received in return was nothing short of blinding. So. Screwed.
"Great then, this is going to be fantastic, have you like, chosen the play then? Oh no, you only just found out, right, well, I'm sure we'll come up with something great for it, you know I will be quite free for a while, just finished that big job I was telling you about actually," Harry was speaking faster in his excitement, and Louis just stood there, listening patiently and nodding along. "And it'll be good to spend time with Lucas too, and it'll be fun?" Harry finished expectantly.
"Fun," Louis lied.
He'd walked right into that one.

Harry finally left saying he was only there because he'd had a meeting with Zayn, and that now he needed to go home to prepare lunch and calling "lemme know when you decide on the play Lou, I'm very excited about this!" over his shoulder.
Louis nodded and kept smiling until he was sure Harry was far along the corridor and then groaned as he slid down the wall. He caught himself before his bum touched the floor because gross and resisted the urge to hit his head against the bloody towel dispenser.
Right, he had to talk to Simon. Small steps.
"Tommo, how did it go?" he heard Liam call as he passed his open office door.
Louis halted and poked his head through the doorway only long enough to say, "I don't like you right now Liam, this is all your fault, get me tea," before continuing on his way.
"Hey if you're going to Simon's he's—" Liam shouted after him, but Louis had already barged in the next office. There was someone already sitting at Simon's desk.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just... go?" Louis said, already retreating.
"Louis, ever heard of knocking?" Simon sighed. "Stay, might as well meet the new music teacher, Niall Horan."
Simon gestured at the young man in front of him, who turned in his seat to look at Louis, a frown on his face like he was trying to figure something out.
"Pleasure mate, I'm Louis Tomlinson," Louis said uncertainly, holding out his hand for the young man, who had now stood up and was gaping at him a bit. "You alright there man?"
"You're Louis? Oh my god you're Louis aren't ya?" the man said, with a distinctive Irish accent.
It was Louis' turn to pull a face, lowering his hand a little. "Um, yeah? Have we—met or something?"
"Oh no, I was hoping to—man it's great to meet you, I'm Niall, Harry hasn't shut up about you in months, wow..." Niall shook his hand enthusiastically, trailing off with a wide smile.
"Har-Harry? He's been—who?" Louis spluttered. He only knew one Harry, fuck he wasn't playing this cool at all. He resigned himself to the fact that today was just not his day.
"Yeah mate, Harry! I've been living back home in Ireland for the past year but I swear it's like I already know ya, I think I've gotten more updates on you than on Lucas and he's my godson, and y'know Harry, he sends me pictures of him daily—"
"Woah okay, Niall? You're finished here right? Yeah?" Louis interrupted him, frantically trying to shut him up while looking at Simon, who hadn't said a word but had a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Shit. "How 'bout I take you on a tour, show you around, sound good?"
He didn't wait for a reply, he just took Niall's arm and guided him outside, chattering non-stop about who knew what (definitely not him that's who), until they were safe in the teachers' lounge. Louis sat a remarkably unfazed Niall on a chair and started pacing the floor behind him.
"Okay, okay, I give, where's the camera? I'm on some sort of prank show right?" Louis finally stopped, having reached the only logical explanation for the hell of a day he was having. He looked around the room expectantly, until he noticed Niall's blue eyes following his gaze. "Niall, don't play dumb with me, you have to be in on this?"
"I don't know what you're going on about mate, sorry?" Niall shrugged, and patted the chair next to him. "Sit, explain."
Louis sat with a huff, slumping over the table and burying his face in his arms.
"It's just—first the play shocker, and then Harry—shit, I didn't tell Simon, and now you with your... whatever, this has to be a dream, can't be happening." came the muffled reply.
"Oh, Simon told me about the play, I was going to offer to help out! In the music department of course, can't act for shit meself," Niall laughed. "What about Harry though, what did he do? I swear, that man is so gone for y—"
Louis covered his mouth with a hand, surprising Niall with the speed with which he'd moved from his position.
"Listen Niall, you're new, so I'm going to explain what I've been telling Zayn and Liam for the past year," Louis took a deep breath, hand shaking a bit on Niall's face. "You can't say anything like that ever again, or else you're destroying the very delicate denial I live in. Shatter this illusion I have created that Harry and I feel absolutely nothing for each other, and my resolve crumbles, and everything will get ugly. Harry knows this, I just try to remember this every day. So basically, don't mention Harry and me and feelings in the same phrase again, okay?"
Niall's eyes widened with recognition and incredulity as Louis finished his little speech and finally removed his hand from his face.
"Oh God it was true then—I can't believe this! Wow, I mean, you're both so... you're meant to be, that's for sure. I kept telling Harry that it was obvious even from miles away that..." Niall gestured towards Louis with his hands, "whatever, and he insisted that you weren't interested and that it was impossible anyway so he wouldn't do anything about it and..." he trailed off helplessly.
"Seriously mate, leave it be. It's the best course of action for everyone involved. I just... it's not... it just can't," Louis said as firmly as he could manage.
Niall shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but then the door opened and Liam came in.
"Tommo, Simon sent me to check that you hadn't killed the new teacher—oh, he's safe, good."
"You. Sit," Louis pointed at Liam and the chair in front of him in turn. Liam grimaced but obeyed quickly. "First of all, why didn't you tell me about the meeting yesterday? I really could've used the time to get ready, but y'know, whatever. Second of all, you knew what it was about, didn't you?"
Liam nodded, not even bothering to look repentant. Louis groaned.
"And I suppose you're not going to tell me why you didn't share the intel, right?"
"Nope. Anyway, Niall, right?" Liam turned towards their new colleague, who had been following the exchange with a still slightly shell-shocked expression. "Hope Louis here didn't give you a hard time, he's harmless, mostly."
"No no, it's all cool, we were discussing the play actually, and Harry and—"
"Niall," Louis warned.
"Alright alright, I won't say anything else about how you and Harry are both so daft you belong together..."
"Oh, he's already given you the talk then? Wait, you know Harry?" Liam asked.
"Yeah, known him for ages! And I only said that Harry was obviously in L-O-V-E," Niall mouthed the letters, and Louis rolled his eyes while Liam laughed. "He lost it mate, I honestly didn't think it was possible for anyone to be in worse denial than Harry, but I was obviously wrong."
The door opened again, and Zayn walked in, yawning. Liam beckoned him over, and Zayn dropped onto a chair.
"Look, we've almost given up with these two, right Zayn?" Liam said, elbowing the half-asleep man next to him.
"Are we talking about Harry and Louis? Hiya mate, I'm Zayn."
"Niall, I'm the new music teacher!"
"Brilliant, welcome then," Zayn saluted him with two fingers. "Anyway, yeah, they're impossible. How did the meeting with Simon go, Lou? You gonna do it then?"
Louis had closed his eyes during this whole exchange, trying to block the sound of their voices, but they flew open at Zayn's words.
"You knew about this too? And you didn't think to tell me? What the fuck, man," he cried, throwing his hands in the air. Zayn just shrugged. "Ugh, well I hope you'll all be glad to hear that Harry fucking Styles found me having a bit of a meltdown in the bloody toilet and fucking volunteered to help out with the fucking play and I couldn't bloody say no. There. I'm going to fetch some tea and then drown myself in that goddamn toilet."
There was a stunned silence. Louis got up and left, closing the door behind him, but not before hearing his three colleagues erupt in laughter. Bloody wankers, the lot of them. Liam was definitely not going to get a better emoji now.

Louis somehow got through the rest of his day. After he'd had his breakfast (two cups of tea), he'd finally allowed himself to consider the possibility that he'd be fine. He had support, he'd studied for this for fuck's sake, there was no reason to think he'd definitely fail. And Harry... well, he'd deal with thatparticular problem when it came to it. There, solved. Right.
So he found himself greeting his kids after lunch, their smiling faces enough to make his annoyance and worry evaporate. When Lucas came up to him and whispered, "Is it true that you're gonna do the play this year Tommo? Papa said at lunch today, but I'm not sure I believe him, he's always telling jokes..." Louis didn't freak out, managing to give the boy a reply and a smile, and only halfheartedly wishing that this whole day was just one of Harry's jokes.
He even survived a second encounter with Harry when he came to pick up his son, all bubbly with excitement. The dimples in his cheeks were fully showing with the way he was grinning, and it was impossible for Louis to resist smiling himself. He promised again to get in touch when he'd decided something about the play, or as Harry said "if you need to brainstorm, anything really Lou..." Louis was about to ask him why he was being this overly enthusiastic about a school play, but thought better of it. He had a feeling he wouldn't like Harry's answer (more lying to himself, he knew he would like the answer, he just didn't want to hear it).
Louis drove home on autopilot, his thoughts occupied by a constant loop of Christmas play working with Harry which fucking play working together with Harry HarryHarryHarry. He needed to get a grip. He was twenty-fucking-seven years old. An adult. With a job. The minute he got home, he was going to start looking for a play. Well, after he got a few moments to unwind, maybe with a nice bottle of beer, perhaps a bath, he should probably do a quick run to Tesco... Okay maybe he wasn't going to to work at all today. He deserved a break and an early night. He still couldn't believe Liam hadn't told him about the meeting before, or Zayn for that matter.
Only when he was gratefully crawling into bed, feeling soft after his bath, did it occur to him that it was weird that Harry had had a meeting with Zayn when he wasn't his son's teacher anymore, not to mention that Zayn was the least morning person Louis had ever met, and wouldn't have scheduled a meeting so early if he had a choice. His brain was too tired to try to work it out though, and he fell asleep in a confused but resigned state of mind.

Three days, many hours of research, twenty open tabs on his browser and countless aborted messages to Harry later, Louis was close to despair once again. He couldn't make up his mind about the play, not even close to knowing what he wanted. The only thing he'd managed to decide was that there was no way he was doing "A Christmas Carol", and that had been clear to him since day one. He wanted something different, but the right choice was proving to be elusive.
Louis sighed and leaned back against his sofa. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the early afternoon sunlight streaming through the window for a few minutes. It was the first Saturday of October, which meant that sunny days like these were starting to come far and in between. That also meant that he had exactly two months to go until the date of the play the first week of December, which seemed to be the only thought occupying his mind lately. Even Liam had told him the day before to relax a bit (that had given Louis pause, because what was his life anymore).
He sat there idly until he started to get restless, and decided to get help. He found his phone between the sofa cushions and pulled up Old Louis' number. It was his last resort, otherwise he'd have to take up Harry's offer of a brainstorming session, and he wasn't sure he was equipped to handle that.
Half an hour later, Louis found himself sitting in the old teacher's living room, a plate of biscuits between them, courtesy of the the man's grandchildren. Louis could hear them playing in the garden and itched to join them. He took a sip of his tea instead, and Old Louis cleared his throat.
"So, young man, want to share what's troubling you?" he asked, nudging the biscuits towards Louis.
Louis smiled sheepishly and took one, munching on it before replying, "It's the play, Louis, Simon put me in charge and I don't know... anything really."
"Oh, right, I told Simon he should, good," Old Louis said, and Louis opened his mouth to protest but the other man kept talking. "I take it you haven't been able to decide which play to do?"
"No, and I can't believe you put Simon up to this," Louis grumbled. "What happened to sharing a name and sticking together?"
The old man gave him a shrewd look and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "You act as if I'd thrown you to the wolves! Give yourself some credit, you did wonderful last year, and you'll do wonderful this year too, alright?"
Louis nodded uncertainly. On some level, he knew what he was being told was true, but that didn't change the fact that he was stressing out already and it hadn't even started properly.
"Now, step one. What are your options?"
"Too many and not enough," Louis almost whined.
"I know what you mean," Old Louis chuckled. "I bet you don't want anything to do with Mr. Dickens, eh?" He paused, thinking. "Oh, have you considered doing Mr. Wilde?"
"Have I—what? Wilde? Isn't that a bit... I can't very well do Earnest with children can I?"
"You could, but no, it wouldn't be very appropriate.... No, I was going for the short stories, we could adapt one!"
Louis gaped at him. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that, he loved Wilde. He tried to recall the stories, one of them had to fit... "The Selfish Giant!" he cried. "Oh, that's perfect, I love you!"
The old man laughed. "Do you want to go over it now?" Louis nodded. "Alright, lemme see, I'm sure I have his complete works around here...."
They worked well into the evening, until they had most of it ready. Louis started packing up around 7, remembering he had plans with the lads. They were meeting up at Harry's place, and he was dreading it a bit now. His mind had been so occupied with the play, but now that it was mostly taken care of, his thoughts returned to Harry and the fact he'd be working with him on a regular basis. It must have shown on his face, because Old Louis was looking at him like he knew something was up.
"What?" Louis said in what he knew was a defensive tone.
"Out with it my boy, what is it now?" the man replied briskly.
"It's stupid," Louis mumbled, scuffing his shoes at the floor. Old Louis waited patiently until he continued. "It's Harry, he uh, volunteered to help with the play, and he's been as excitable as a puppy with a new toy over this, and I have to go see him now and tell him I have the play and we'll start working this week and I'm still not sure how I ended up in this position. Um, that's it basically," Louis finished with a shrug.
Old Louis patted the sofa next to him and Louis sat back down. "Louis, I know you have your reasons, but it's getting ridiculous. Have you considered—"
"Have I considered?" Louis interrupted him. "I've done nothing but think about this for a year, trust me, I've considered everything. It wouldn't be good."
"You don't know that, you have to give it a chance," the old man said, and Louis was going to lose it.
"I'm his son's teacher!" he said with a derisive laugh.
"You won't be his teacher forever, and the kid adores you!" Old Louis countered.
"That's exactly it! What if it all goes to shit, I couldn't do that to him."
"What if it doesn't go to shit?"
Louis didn't have an answer for that. Old Louis smiled gently at him, kindness in his brown eyes. "Listen lad, you're making yourself miserable. Sure, maybe you'll both move on eventually, find someone else, whatever. But you're going to have a hundred 'what if's in your life, that's just inevitable. Do you want this to be one of them?"
"I... I don't know," Louis said quietly. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about that too, but it was so damn scary.
"Like you said, it's been a year, why do you think you're both still in this situation? Why haven't you been able to get over this, if you're not planning to do anything about it?" Old Louis continued.
"I don't want to, I don't want to get over him, and I don't want him to move on either," Louis finally admitted. Fuck, he was pathetic. "I've never met someone like him, someone I felt so attracted to, someone I was so sure I could build something solid with. I know we'd be good, I do. But it's not just us, there's Lucas to consider, and Harry loves him so much... And it's not like he's made a real move either, he must agree with me..."
"Louis for the love of God, that man is just following your lead!" the old man said exasperatedly. "Maybe he's scared too, but it's obvious to anyone who's watched you two interact in the past year that he feels the same. I'm not saying you should just jump into it, but heaven knows you've waited long enough. Just, think about it?"
"Okay, I'll—yeah. I should really get going now. Thanks for... everything," Louis said with a smile, getting to his feet. He really was grateful, this man had always had his back, always been understanding.
"Don't mention it lad," he replied, giving Louis a clap on the back as he walked him to the door. "My door's always open, you know that. Be sure to send me invitations for the play though, I know you'll smash it."
"Will do," Louis promised, walking towards his car and waving goodbye over his shoulder.
Once again, he drove home with his thoughts in a jumbled mess. He was relieved he'd made progress with the play, but the old man's words had rattled him. Like Liam and Zayn, Old Louis had tried to subtly encourage him to let things happen with Harry, but Louis had always shut them all down.
Could he really allow himself to think everything would work out? Not for the first time, images of what his life could be like with Harry flitted through his mind, and it could be brilliant. But no, tonight was not the moment to have an epiphany. He shut off those thoughts as he got ready to go to Harry's, and if he spent extra time making sure his hair was perfect, only he had to know.

Louis finally arrived at Harry's half an hour late, but everyone was used to it. Zayn would probably be even later. Harry opened the door and greeted him cautiously, like he was expecting Louis to snap at him or something. Louis gave him a confused look as he walked past him into the living room, where Niall and Liam were already engrossed in a FIFA game.
"What's up with him then?" Louis asked them by way of greeting, pointing behind him with his thumb.
Liam paused the game, and he and Niall smiled at him, but didn't reply. Harry came into the room then, carrying bowls of snacks from the kitchen. Before Louis could repeat the question, the doorbell rang, and Harry went to let Zayn in.
"Lou," Zayn said softly when he entered the room, and went to sit by Niall, giving Louis a tentative smile.
"Alright, what's going on with you lot?" Louis demanded, baffled by his friends' behaviour.
"How are you today, Lou?" Liam asked in turn. "Still stressed out?"
"Oh come on, is that it? I haven't been that bad... have I?" Louis looked around at the other four men. They all nodded. Had he really been such a pain in the last three days? Fuck, he was a mess. "Right then, sorry lads. But I'm good now," he went on as he swung a chair around and sat down. "I found my play!"
His statement was greeted with relieved sighs and whoops of joy. His friends were ridiculous. "Okay okay, settle down boys," Louis laughed, shaking his head at them. "I had to get Old Louis to give me a hand, but it's done."
"What are we doing?" Harry asked excitedly. His hair was loose today, and he looked so beautiful that Louis tried not to stare at him. He was sure he was failing.
"The Selfish Giant, by Oscar Wilde," he replied with a proud smile. It really was a perfect choice.
Zayn nodded appreciatively and Harry grinned. "I think I remember that story, my mum used to read it to my sister and I," he said.
"Never read it," Niall said
"Same here, what is it about?" Liam asked.
"It's about a giant who has a garden that children love to play in when they leave school," Louis started explaining. "The giant comes back from a trip and finds the children, gets angry and tells them to get out. He builds a wall around the garden. Time passes and then he realises that Winter hasn't left his garden, and everywhere else it's Spring. A year passes, an one day the children sneak in, and Spring comes back. So he realises how selfish he's been and knocks down the wall, and Winter leaves. There's a bit of a religious subtext towards the end which we edited out, but it's great, don't you think? Nice message for the kids yeah?"
"Yeah, that's lovely Lou," Liam agreed, and everyone nodded. "Right then, now that's taken care of, I'm going to get us some beers."
The night went by without incident after that, the five men taking turns playing match after match (Harry and Louis doing their usual dance around each other and simultaneously managing to beat the others when they were paired up), until Niall suggested going to the pub. Louis tried to beg off, claiming he had to work in the morning, but they all shushed him.
"C'mon mate, it's Niall's first weekend here!" Zayn said, while Liam clapped Louis' shoulder and told him that he deserved to blow off some steam after that week. He relented after that, probably due to the fact that he was already tipsy from the beers he'd drank. So they all walked the two blocks to their usual pub, all of them on different levels of intoxication.
Louis walked beside Harry, who was rambling on about the play, asking a dozen questions per minute. Or it would be, if he was capable of talking at a normal speed. Alcohol seemed to slow his speech even more than usual, like he had to think extra long to come up with the words. Louis didn't mind, in fact, it was endlessly endearing to him, like everything about Harry. He could listen to him talk for hours, and the man seemed so legitimately interested in what the whole process was like, that Louis couldn't help smiling as he answered his questions.
When they got to the pub, Liam and Zayn made sure to give a wide berth to Harry and Louis' little bubble, leaving a side of the booth for them to sit and continue their discussion, while Niall went to order the first round of pints. It was only when he came back and slid them their drinks that Louis registered the fact that they had already arrived, and judging from the way Harry had almost jumped when Niall nudged him with his pint, he hadn't realised either. The worst part was that this wasn't the first time this happened by any means, and Zayn and Liam at least were used to it. Niall threw them a bemused glance, but let it go with a shrug.
The five of them clinked their pints together and from then onwards proceeded to get happily drunk, or more drunk. They lost Niall to the bar an hour in; he'd somehow found a girl who claimed could drink him under the table any day, and they were testing her claim enthusiastically. They were surrounded by a group of people cheering them on, and Niall's laughter often drifted back to his friends' table. Zayn was nursing his drink and texting someone, Liam seeming similarly occupied. Louis wondered what kind of texts he was receiving that kept making him flustered. Next to Louis, Harry was quiet, fingers tapping on the table to the beat of the music. Louis decided to commandeer their attention, being drunk made him louder than usual.
"Boys, entertain me," he whined loudly. He waved his hand towards Liam and Zayn. "You two, stop... that, whatever you're doing." Liam flushed, Louis noted with interest. Oh, was he getting teased later. When he wasn't as drunk. Plastered. "Hey, have you ever noticed how many words we have for drunk?"
"Pissed," Zayn said. Liam and Harry were quick to join.
"Wasted."
"Tipsy."
"Smashed."
"Inibri—ini—inebriated," Louis slurred, and the others laughed.
"Yeah mate, you're totally sloshed," Zayn told him.
"Hammered," Harry said.
"Shitfaced," Liam added.
"Whatever, it's a difficult word," Louis muttered, and Harry shook with repressed laughter next to him, and when had he got so close? In his haze, he remembered that if he got loud when he was drunk, Harry got clingy. To be fair, Louis got clingy too, but that was beside the point, as he could feel Harry's leg pressed to his. He needed an escape before it was too late. This always happened, why hadn't he learned yet? He was trying to come up with an excuse to switch places with Zayn when Niall came to his rescue.
"Lads, I've found the love of my life," he cried, suddenly appearing by their table. He was red in the face but still remarkably steady on his feet. "I swear, 'm gonna marry her."
"What's her name?" Zayn asked.
"I... I forgot," Niall said, frowning. "Haz, come with me and ask her, please?"
Harry sighed but pushed at Louis to get up so he could get out of the booth. Louis watched him weave his way through the makeshift dancefloor, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he missed Harry's warmth next to him. As one, Zayn and Liam rounded on him the minute Harry was gone, staring at him with knowing looks. All of a sudden, Louis was not drunk enough for this.
"Don't even," he warned them, standing to get them more drinks. Zayn rolled his eyes at him, but Louis ignored him.
He got the drinks, but never made it back to the table. Harry was dancing. With a bloke. Quite enthusiastically. Louis felt a familiar pang of jealousy; this was another normal occurrence that Louis had forgotten about as well. Rationally, he knew that Harry had never hooked up with anyone when he was out with his friends, or ever, according to Zayn. But Louis couldn't help but wonder every time Harry found someone to dance with if this would be it, if he'd finally take someone home. The thought never failed to make his stomach twist, and he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help it, and it made it worse.
He stood rooted to his spot by the bar, watching as the guy got closer to Harry. He couldn't look away, it was like watching a trainwreck. And then the man reached for Harry's waist, and Louis held his breath. A part of him couldn't really blame the guy, Harry looked both lovely and hot, with his long hair slightly wet from sweating and his tight jeans and his mostly unbuttoned shirt. Louis' fantasies often involved the smooth expanse of his chest and his tongue. He felt a faint twinge of arousal and tried to tamp it down. Get a grip, now's not the moment, he told himself. He focused back on the scene before him, and Harry was taking a step back, smiling politely but shaking his head.
Louis exhaled in relief. He could go back now, Harry could take care of himself. He gathered the three pints, took a sip from his, and turned to go back to his table. He didn't get far though. There was a ripple of noise coming from the dancefloor, barely audible over the music, and then someone collided with him, making him slosh beer all over his arm and splashing his favourite Vans. Louis caught a glimpse of the man's back as he made his way to the exit without even saying sorry, and Louis yelled "well fuck you very much" after him. It was then that he recognised his shirt. It was the man who'd been dancing with Harry.
Louis looked back around to where the man had come from. He'd cleared a path in the crowd in his wake, and in the middle stood Harry with Niall and the girl from before. For a moment, they all stared at each other, and then Niall was laughing and everyone went back to dancing. Harry started making his way over to Louis, Niall and the girl in tow, and Louis waited, with his half-full pints and drenched in beer.
"What was that?" he asked them when they reached him. Harry took the pints from his hands wordlessly and went over to the bar. Niall was still laughing, so the girl took it upon herself to answer.
"That wanker couldn't take no for an answer apparently," she said loudly over the music, rolling her eyes. "I'm Barbara by the way."
"Louis," he replied. "So what happened?"
"Well Harry was being firm but all polite, y'know how he is," Niall said when he managed to stop laughing. "But the guy wouldn't go away, so I went over to tell him to back off, told him I was his boyfriend. He didn't believe me, the nerve! Like what, I don't look like I could be dating Harry?"
"You're really not my type Ni, sorry," Harry laughed, joining them again. "There you go, Lou," he said to Louis, handing him some napkins. Louis thanked him softly, hiding a smile against his shoulder as he mopped his arm and they all started walking back to their table.
"Oh, wow," Barbara said, exchanging a look with Niall. Louis narrowed his eyes, but Barbara continued explaining before he could say anything. "So I went over too and said they were both my boyfriends, and that he needed to get lost. And he goes 'aw, but you're used to sharing then" or whatever, so I stepped on his foot," she finished with a shrug. She was wearing really high heels. They looked deadly. Louis stared at her in awe. "Yeah, that's the same face these two gave me too," she said, laughing.
"I like you," Louis told her. Harry nodded seriously beside him. Barbara just rolled her eyes at them and laughed again.
They reached their table, which was empty, and sat down. It took them a few minutes to realise what was wrong. The table was empty.
"Where'd Liam and Zayn go?" Harry asked.
"They were here when I went to the bar," Louis shrugged, looking around. "D'you think they left without telling us? Again? Bastards."
"That would be like, the third time this month," Harry said. "Weird."
"Why's it weird?" Niall asked, confused. "I thought those two had something going on?"
Louis choked on his beer. "What?!" he spluttered, once again having to mop himself up. God, he really was a mess today.
"Yeah I mean, they kinda look at each other the same way you two—" Niall cut himself off abruptly. Louis felt Harry tense next to him. He was going to murder Niall. "Whatever um, so yeah, I got that vibe, haven't you noticed? You've known them much longer..." he trailed off, uncomfortable.
Harry recovered first. "Well, if they are that's great, right? Zayn's fancied him for quite a while now, I think."
"What?" Louis said again. "I'm a hundred percent sure that Liam's had a crush on him forever too, but I always thought... nevermind." Louis needed to have a serious talk with his best mate. He took out his phone and typed a message "you. me. TALKING. don't think i'm letting u get away w this payne" and thank fuck for autocorrect, because he couldn't for the life of him hit the correct letters in his state.
"But it'd be brilliant!" Harry insisted. "Like, they've been mates for ages, and if they can—"
"Woah Harold, I think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself there," Louis interrupted him. He had a feeling he wasn't ready for what Harry was getting at. "We don't even know if they do have something going on."
"I know, I'm just sayin'" Harry said quietly.
Aaaand, that was Louis' cue to call it a night. He was definitely not ready to deal with the soft yet somehow intense look Harry was giving him; he was drunk but no amount of alcohol could make him look Harry in the eye when he got like this.
"Well lads, lady, I need the loo and then I think I'm going home," he said, getting up.
"Wait why? Why is everyone abandoning me?" Niall cried.
"Oi, what am I then?" Barbara said, slapping his arm playfully. Niall's face instantly transformed from pouty to besotted and Louis rolled his eyes before leaving.
The stalls were empty and Louis relaxed in the relative quiet, finishing quickly and attempting to keep his thoughts blank. It wasn't meant to be apparently, because when he came out of his stall, Harry was standing there by the sinks. Of course. Louis sighed and went to wash his hands.
"Um, you left your phone on the table," Harry started, and Louis hated the uncertainty in his voice, like he wasn't sure Louis wanted him there. He always wanted him there, despite his best efforts to not want him at all. Harry handed over the phone and Louis smiled at him in thanks. "And you left your car keys at my place, but I don't think you should be driving?"
"Fuck, I'd forgotten 'bout that," Louis groaned. "I guess I'll have to take a cab..."
"You could like, kip at mine? You know I don't mind, and a cab to yours will be expensive..."
"I..." Louis hesitated. His brain was screaming bad idea BAD IDEA at him but—
"I'll make breakfast?" Harry sounded hopeful now, and if possible, Louis hated that even more.
"Alright Curly, lead the way," he found himself saying.

Niall and Barbara were glued to each other when they came out of the toilets, and Louis exchanged a grin with Harry while they slipped on their jackets. The air outside was chilly, and Louis snuggled into his denim jacket, Harry doing the same with his long black coat. They walked in comfortable silence up to Harry's house.
Louis was fine until they reached the door, and then the trepidation kicked in. It wasn't like he hadn't spent the night before, but it had never been just him. Usually, Liam and Zayn crashed there too after a night out, and they would all pile in the double bed in Harry's guest room. This felt different.
Harry let them in, turning on lights as he went, asking Louis if he wanted anything to eat or drink. Louis called back "No thanks, just wanna go to sleep," and Harry appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, holding a water bottle and a banana in his hand.
"Well, you know where everything is, if you wanna have a shower or something, and I'll leave some clothes for you to sleep in on the bed, yeah? And you should drink some water," Harry said, offering the bottle to Louis.
Louis accepted it, mainly to have something to do with his hands; his brain was positively screeching at him now. He gulped some water and then wished he hadn't, as he almost choked when Harry basically tried to swallow the banana whole in one go. Holy shit. Louis closed his eyes. Those were visuals he very much did not need. He remembered Harry's offer then.
"That's okay, I don't mind sleeping in me clothes, Harry," he managed to say after coughing a few times.
Harry swallowed (Louis looked away again) and gave him a truly unimpressed look. "It wasn't really a question though," he said. "No offence Lou, but you kind of stink of beer, and there is just no way you're sleeping in my sheets like that."
And well, Louis couldn't really argue with that. So he took the shower, and he took the T-shirt and the pyjama pants that looked brand new, and tried convince himself he was just imagining he could smell Harry's scent on them.

Louis awoke the next morning with a queasy stomach and a headache, but it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. He was feeling quite pleased with himself, until he rolled over and found a glass of water and a couple of white pills on the bedside table, and the previous nights events started popping up in his head. He took the pills before his headache could get worse, and then lay in bed listing the mistakes he'd made last night: drinking so much, having a jealous fit over Harry, being a sloppy drunk, coming back with Harry, using Harry's shower and clothes, spending the night, that must be a new record Tommo.He was just starting to rank them from potentially catastrophic to simply idiotic when there was a knock on the door. Time to face the music.
"Yeah?" Louis croaked, sitting up in bed.
Harry opened the door, letting in the most delicious smell of freshly cooked food. "Morning Lou," he said quietly, like he knew Louis wouldn't appreciate loud noises. "Well actually it's just past noon, but... How'd you sleep?"
"Fine, just wish I hadn't drunk so much last night," Louis laughed. "You?"
"Good, good. Did you take the paracetamol I left for you? Hope you don't mind, but I woke up a while ago and took your clothes to wash them, they should be ready soon, and I thought you might like to eat something? I've made breakfast. Well, brunch?"
Louis just blinked at him for a few seconds, processing everything Harry had said. How was he even real?
"Are you even real?" he asked out loud before he could censor himself. His brain to mouth filter was definitely lagging when he was hungover. "Did you tuck me in too while you were in here?" He asked in a teasing tone and fuck where had that come from?
"Well, you'd like, kicked the covers in your sleep or something so I just... yeah," Harry blushed and Louis didn't know if he should be horrified or endeared. Well, bringing that up was definitely a mistake Louis could rank as totally inappropriate.
"So, um, food?" Harry asked, saving Louis from further embarrassing them both. Louis nodded and got up, trying not to feel self-conscious about wearing Harry's clothes.
"Nice bedhead by the way," Harry noted then, the corners of his mouth twitching. Louis' hands flew to his hair and he remembered it was still wet when he went to bed; he didn't want to know how it must have dried overnight.
"Shut up Curly," was all he could say, noting how perfect Harry's locks looked.
Louis followed him to the kitchen, where Harry had an impressive array of food on the table.
"Woah Harold, you've been holding out on us! How come you never cook like this when we're all staying over?"
"Like I said, I was up early," Harry replied, but Louis was not convinced that was the reason. He was hungry enough to let the matter go, as the two of them sat down, eating in silence for a few minutes. Louis had to make a conscious effort not to moan at how good everything tasted.
"Everything was amazing, Harry," Louis told him later as they cleaned up together, a compromise they'd had to reach when Harry had insisted he could do it alone and Louis had been determined to at least help. Harry thanked him, beaming, and Louis tried not to think of how terribly domestic the whole scene was, and how much he was enjoying just being in Harry's company.
"What are you doing now Lou?" Harry asked him as he dried his hands. "We could hang out here if you've got nothing to do?"
"Um, I was actually planning to go home and work on the play," Louis lied. The only thing in his plans for the afternoon was a long nap. "Still lots of polishing to do y'know, and I want to have it ready by Tuesday, we really don't have much time," he babbled on, foolishly not noticing how Harry's face had lit up.
"Oh, maybe I could help you then?" Harry suggested and oh, Louis should've seen this coming. "We can stay here if you want? I mean, it'd be good if I start getting familiar with it, right?" Louis nodded uncertainly. "Like, have you thought about how you're gonna build a wall on the stage?" Harry finished smugly.
"No, have you?" Louis said, sticking his tongue at him.
"Yes, I have," Harry retorted, mirroring Louis.
"Well, let's have it then, what's the big genius idea?"
"Well, first of all, we'll take some... no clue," Harry said, smug grin still in place. "But I have at least thought about it, and I want to know what else I'll be dealing with." Harry crossed his arms across his chest, like he'd won the argument already.
"Alright fine, let's get to work," Louis relented, knowing Harry was right. "I'm warning you though, I might fall asleep on your sofa."
Harry laughed as he made to go into the living room, but turned around again abruptly. "Wait, don't you need to get the play from home?"
"No, it's in my email," Louis replied. "I had an incident during my teacher training and I lost a whole paper, almost had a panic attack. So I'm a bit paranoid of computers and viruses, I make backup copies of everything now," he explained.
"Fantastic, I'll get my laptop then," Harry said, clapping his hands. "And that's really smart, I should start doing that..."

The afternoon flew by, as Louis found working with Harry was easy and fun. In no time, the play was looking as good as it could, enough to satisfy Louis. Harry had taken to making little notes in a journal with potential ideas for the set and props. He wouldn't let Louis look at it, despite Louis' wheedling. He was curious, sue him.
It was late afternoon and they were about to start a FIFA game, figuring they'd worked enough for the day, when Harry's phone pinged with a message. Louis realised he hadn't checked his own phone all day. He hoped he hadn't missed any calls from his mum.
"Oh, it's Liam," Harry informed him, laughing. "He wants to know if you're with me, or if you've died in a ditch on your way home. You're not answering your phone apparently," he explained with a wry smile.
"Honestly, he can be worse than my mum sometimes," Louis muttered, going back to the guest room to look for his phone. He had several missed calls from Liam and Zayn, two voicemails and loads of texts. He opened those first, walking back to the living room. He scrolled up, ignoring the increasingly distressed messages from Liam, until he got to the first unread one, from that morning.
Sure, what do you wanna talk about mate?
Louis was confused for a second, and then he remembered what Niall had told them last night. He sent Liam a random emoji to let him know he was alive, and turned to Harry, who was waiting patiently so they could start their game.
"Harold, turn that off. I need you to talk to Zayn and find out if they're actually, you know, canoodling behind our backs."
"Canoodling," Harry repeated slowly.
"Yes, whatever you want to call it," Louis waved his hand impatiently. "I'll talk to Liam, and we'll see if we can get it out of them, yeah?"
"Now?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, why not?"
"Um, okay?" Harry didn't look too convinced about this course of action, but grabbed his phone obediently. It started ringing in his hand before he could do anything.
"Please tell me it's not Liam, I'll kill him," Louis groaned.
"No, it's—it's Allison, hold on," Harry said, brows furrowed. He stood up and accepted the call. Louis tried to focus on his own conversation with Liam to give Harry some privacy with his child's mother, but he looked up sharply when he heard Harry saying, "Is he okay?" with an urgent tone. Harry was walking towards his room now, and Louis sat there biting his lip, worried.
"Right, I'll be right there," Louis heard Harry say before he appeared back in the room, skipping on one foot while he tried to zip up his other boot with one hand. He tottered and Louis got up quickly to steady him with a hand on his arm, and Harry gave him a grateful smile before ending the call.
"What happened? Is—"
"Luke's fine," Harry cut him off. "It's Allison's father, they had to take him to hospital, they think it could be a heart attack. I'm sorry Lou, I have to go."
"Of course Harry, don't be daft," Louis said, already slipping on his Vans. "I hope he's okay," he offered.
"Yeah, I mean, he's not that old, I don't know," Harry said as he opened the door and Louis grabbed his keys. "Allison said Lucas was quite shook up," he added in a small voice.
Louis felt such a surge of affection for him that he didn't know what to do with it. He let his instincts take over and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. Harry returned the embrace, and it was purely about comforting him, but it still felt so right to Louis, as if that was his place in the world. He pulled off with a parting pat on his back and a smile.
"He's a strong kid, he'll be okay," he told Harry in a soft tone, trying to reassure him.
"Thanks Lou," Harry replied, just as softly.
They walked out together and Louis walked Harry to his car, telling him to drive safely, before getting into his and driving off. His brain went back to listing, this time it was the amount of boundaries he'd broken today. Strangely, he could only think fuck it.

The first thing Louis did when he got home was call Liam. He'd been giving him non-responses to his texts, and Louis had had it.
"Payne, cut the shit mate, what was going on last night?" he asked as soon as Liam picked up.
"For the last time Louis, nothing. What happened with Harry?" Liam countered.
"Nothing," Louis replied. Two could play this game. Maybe Harry would have more luck with Zayn, either way, he was getting to the bottom of this.
"Fine," Liam said in a tired tone.
"Fine," Louis said. "See you tomorrow then Payno."
Liam hung up on him. Louis shrugged. He had strange friends.
Late that night, Louis got a text from Harry, letting him know that Luke's grandfather was okay, but that he wouldn't be going to school the next day. Louis smiled at Harry's considerate ways as he texted back:
I'm glad everything's alright Haz. We still on for Tuesday? I understand if you can't
The response was immediate:
No no, we'll both be there Tuesday, Lucas is really excited about it!
He sent back a Great, see you then :) before falling asleep.

The next month passed in a blur for Louis. Between his regular obligations and the play, he didn't have much time to focus on anything else, Liam's mysterious behaviour and the possible romance with Zayn almost forgotten. Louis occasionally got hung up on the cute interactions Harry had with the kids when he came over to help (which was every week), and the way his forehead creased in concentration when he was designing the sets. He'd solved the problem of the wall with cardboard boxes that the Giant would stack up around the stage (the children loved playing with them in between scenes).
By mid-November, as the play was taking more shape, the kids were off-script and Louis felt he could relax a bit, it became more and more impossible for him to ignore the fond looks Harry gave him when they worked together with the kids. It didn't help that Harry was so good with them, they all worshipped him. He mentioned it to him once, and Harry had blushed, shaking his head and saying "you're amazing with them too, Lou."
It was getting harder to deny that they were constantly on the verge of blurting their feelings for each other. Several times, they had been so close to kissing that it made Louis lightheaded just to think about it.
The other boys had stopped being being so cautious around them, making jokes and throwing innuendo around all the time, and surprisingly, Louis didn't mind it as much as before. He was beginning to think that he and Harry were inevitable. The pull between them was inescapable, like gravity, like magnets.
And then, two days before the play, it was game over. It only took one thought, just one errant thought, and Louis felt as if everything was crashing to the ground. He'd been working out some kinks in a scene with some of the kids, and it was taking rather long. The rest of the children had started getting restless and bound to get mischievous, so Harry had taken it upon himself to entertain them. So there he was, surrounded by kids at one end of the stage, telling awful jokes, pulling silly faces to make them laugh, Louis occasionally looking their way from the other end. He watched as Harry produced a piece of cloth from somewhere and put it over his face, securing it in place with sunglasses. He put on a funny voice and started talking to the children. He was doing Mr. Potato Head, and Louis just couldn't look away. He laughed to himself, and then the thought popped up. Fuck, I love him.
Fuck, he loved Harry. It was out there, his brain had betrayed him. There was no unthinking it. Louis was in love with Harry. He willed himself not to show the inner turmoil his sudden realisation had created. He was a professional, dammit. Somehow, he finished the rehearsal, and managed to act relatively normal around Harry as they parted ways.
Again, he had to drive home in less than optimal conditions. How was he supposed to focus on traffic when all he could think about was what am I going to do? over and over? Did this change things? Could Harry possibly feel the same way? If they were in love, would it make it easier to make it work between them? What was he supposed to do?
Louis pulled over five blocks from his flat. He called Liam in distress. Liam promised to be there soon, and Louis drove the rest of the way home. Luckily, Liam had understood the code red and showed up ten minutes later with a case of beers and junk food.
"Alright Lou, spill," he told him as he settled down on the sofa, where Louis was bundled up in a blanket.
"I'm gonna tell you something, and if you don't want me to hate you for all eternity, you won't be a smug bastard about it."
"I promise," Liam said solemnly.
Louis took a deep breath. "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Harry," Louis said, surprising himself with how steady his voice came out. It felt good to say it.
Liam was silent for a few seconds, completely blindsided. "I knew it!" he cried suddenly, launching himself at Louis and crushing him in a hug.
"Get off me you lunatic, I didn't say I was in love with you!" Louis laughed.
"Shut up Lou, lemme have this!" Liam said, releasing him. "I've been enduring this shit for a year mate! Tell me everything, have you told him yet, what made you finally get your head out of your arse?"
"I haven't, no, how am I supposed to do that?" Louis asked, the despair he was feeling earlier coming back in full force. "And it's the stupidest thing really, and I guess it's been sort of piling up, but just, today at rehearsals, Harry goes and does Mr. Potato Head, you know, from that movie with Jude Law?" Liam nodded and gestured for him to go on. Louis shook his head, smiling stupidly despite himself. "So I was just looking at him, and it just hit me, I love him. So, there's that." Louis finished, shrugging helplessly.
"Well," Liam said slowly, still processing everything. "You just have to tell him, don't even bother trying to find the right time. That's what I did with Zayn and we wasted a lot of time just—" Liam clapped a hand on his mouth as he registered what he'd just said.
For a moment, they both gaped at each other, and then Louis let out a cackle. "I fucking knew it! Niall was right!" It was Louis' turn to gloat now. "Oh mate, your face, this is priceless!"
"Fine, yeah, go ahead. Zayn is going to kill me, we were supposed to tell you all together." Liam hid his face in his hands.
"I'll act surprised, now give me all the details!"
The two friends spent the rest of the evening talking, and in the end Louis was convinced he had to tell Harry as soon as he could. The next day they were going to stay late to set up all the decorations, just the two of them, it would be perfect. If only he could figure out just what to say.

In the end, he shouldn't have fretted so much. He and Harry were hanging leaves and various live plants to decorate the Giant's castle. Louis was rummaging around in a box looking for some wire, when Harry called "Look Louis, mistletoe!" and Louis froze.
"Don't be silly Harold, I'm pretty sure I didn't buy mistletoe," he said, not turning around.
"Well, maybe I did," Harry said. "Maybe the Giant has a special friend he'd like to kiss."
"A special friend," Louis repeated, holding back the laughter bubbling up his throat. Surely, this man couldn't be this ridiculous.
"Yeah," Harry said, and Louis felt him getting closer, but he still didn't move. "But the Giant doesn't know what else to do to get his friend to kiss him so he just... hangs some mistletoe... right above him," and suddenly Harry was looming over Louis.
He looked up and yes, Harry was holding what was unmistakably mistletoe. He stood up slowly, meeting Harry's gaze. "So then what?" Louis said softly. He couldn't believe this was happening.
"So then he kisses him," Harry replied. He leaned towards Louis tentatively, and Louis closed the gap between them. He kissed him, and Harry responded immediately, lifting a hand to cup Louis' jaw and making a tiny noise in the back of his throat that had Louis pressing his body closer and tightening his grip on Harry's sides. Harry's hands were cold but Louis felt warm all over, like he could walk through ice and fire and not feel a thing. Harry's lips were soft against his, Louis could taste the faint trace of the cherry chapstick Harry was fond of using to fight the winter dryness, and it was so much, too much when Harry opened his mouth and licked at Louis' lower lip until he parted them, and they traded soft kisses, belying the desperate way they were now holding each other.
"Louis, Lou, Lou," Harry mumbled between kisses as Louis' hands fisted in the back of his shirt. "Louis," Harry tried again, nuzzling their noses together.
"Shh, busy, kissing," Louis said, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Harry's jaw until he reached his neck. Harry let out another sound and Louis smirked against his skin.
"Louis, we ca—"
Louis pulled off completely, scowling. "Harry Styles, if the next words that come out of your mouth are 'we can't do this' or any variation thereof I swear on me mum that I'm kicking you in the nuts. And then I'll probably have to flee the country for having assaulted a student's parent—"
"Louis, c'mere, fuck," Harry said, pulling him in by his waist, Louis offering no resistance. "I was never going to say that, but duly noted? Why would I say that when I've wanted to have you like this for a whole fucking year, God," Harry buried his face in Louis' neck, and Louis melted against him. "You have no idea how you make me—do you know what it's been like to—"
"Yes, yes," Louis whispered, shivering a little as he felt Harry taking deep breaths against him. Louis' hands trailed up Harry's torso, ending up curling behind his neck, fingers playing with the baby hairs at his nape escaping from his messy bun. Suddenly, he started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Harry asked, fighting his own laughter.
"I can't believe you pulled that off, with the mistletoe just now, fuck," Louis took a few calming breaths. "And here I was, worrying about how I was going to tell you that—" Louis cut himself off.
"Tell me what Lou?" Harry said, sobering up a little.
"That I think, I'm in love with you," Louis whispered.
"Good, because I love you too," Harry said, his smile truly out of control, and Louis felt... like he could fly with how light he felt. He threw his arms around Harry and they stood there for a moment, embracing each other.
"Now kiss me you fool," Harry said, and Louis did, their lips and tongues moving with more confidence now. Harry let it go on for a few minutes before pulling away once more when Louis' hands turned insistent again. "You know, before, I was actually going to say that we can't do this here, like, I wouldn't want to be caught by Liam, or Simon...."
Louis chuckled, fingers idly playing with what he could reach of Harry's hair. "Yeah, I'm 99 percent sure Liam sleeps here sometimes, we should clean up here and..." Louis trailed off uncertainly. What now?
"Well, how about we put this stuff away, and then we, I dunno, go to yours, or mine, and we get takeout or I can cook something, and we talk?" Harry said. "But, as a heads up, I'd like to propose to you the incredibly revolutionary idea of dating. Kind of like what we've doing so far but hopefully with more kisses. I mean, I figure that as long as you telling me you're in love with me wasn't a hallucination, you'd agree?"
"Harry, d'you think that I've been literally pining over you for a year just to have one night or whatever?" Louis said, feigning indignation. "Besides, even if I wasn't completely infatuated with you, you have Lucas, and it's tricky enough already, I could never have something with you that wasn't um, long-term? I guess? Couldn't do that," he finished more seriously.
Harry's answering smile to Louis' little speech was nothing short of spectacular. Not for the first time, Louis wanted to pinch and poke at his dimpling cheeks, so he did, figuring it was okay to do so. They'd just discussed dating after all. Harry laughed and caught his hand to get him to stop, and didn't let go.
"You've no idea how great it is to hear you say that Lou. I haven't dated anyone seriously in years... Lucas became my priority the minute I laid eyes on him," Harry said, affection clear in his tone. "Have I ever told you about him?"
"Mate, he's all you talk about," Louis replied, teasing.
"No, I mean like, the story? How I got him?"
"Oh, wow," Louis said. He had never got the full story after that initial talk with Zayn. He led Harry towards the edge of the stage and sat down, Harry doing the same, facing him and hugging his knees to his chest. "You know you don't have to tell me right now if you like, don't want to..." Louis added when they were settled.
"No, I want to, it's not like I'm ashamed or that it's a bad story, it just never came up did it?"
"Yeah," Louis agreed.
"Well the short version is that I was almost 18 when I slept with my sort-of-girlfriend for the first time," Harry started. "And she got pregnant, and I didn't find out until like a year after Lucas was born." Louis sucked in a breath at that. He couldn't imagine what that must have been like for him. At 25, Harry was the most mature person he'd ever met, and although he didn't know if Harry had always been like that, he could guess the experience would have speeded up his growing up anyway.
"Long version?" Harry went on. "Allison didn't live in town, just like half an hour away I guess. I'd met her at a party, and we'd been sort of dating for a few months, you know? And um, I already knew I liked blokes, but for a while I thought I liked girls too. So yeah, we had sex, but around two months later she broke it off, and I didn't really see her again. I went off to Uni, I was studying architecture. I only finished one year though, 'cause when I came back home for Christmas hols the next year, she was in town. I just ran into her on the street, and she had Lucas. He was one year old already, and just so cute."
Louis nodded, he'd seen baby pictures of Luke, he'd asked the children to bring pictures for a year-round project. He had an inkling that Luke was just a mini version of Harry himself, but he'd have to see pictures to confirm that theory.
"I was quite angry when she finally told me. She'd never planned to tell me, and it took us a long time to work past that, but I knew I wanted to be a part of his life. So I went back to Uni with a set schedule for visits and stuff. But then a few months later I just quit and moved back here, started the business with my parents' help. I just couldn't stand it anymore, seeing my baby every few weeks, missing out on so much. I wanted to be able to do my share too, not just economically, and like, that was a big deal as well because she was barely making enough, but I wanted to raise him, be there for him. Look," Harry pointed at the inside of his left wrist. There was a date tattooed there that Louis hadn't noticed before. "That was the day Luke said Papa for the first time, although it was more like he repeated the syllable like five times, but still. That feeling was... indescribable really, I'd always wanted kids..." Harry trailed off, fiddling with his rings, a small smile on his lips.
Louis ran his his fingers up and down Harry's arm, tracing the shapes of his tattoos. He knew Harry had quite a few of them, and while Louis had never felt the urge to get inked himself, he could admit they looked good on Harry, the strange assortment of doodles and full pieces adorning his arm worked for him. And maybe, maybe, Louis had started reconsidering his view on tattoos. He'd had been silent through the whole story, and he had to clear his throat to make sure any sound would come out when he said, "Me too." Harry looked up at him in question. Louis smiled shyly. "I've always wanted kids too," he clarified. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, each lost in similar thoughts.
"Lou?" Harry said eventually.
"Yeah Haz?"
"I want to kiss you, but I won't be able to stop and like, I really really think we should get out of here, so I can do just that."
"That, is a brilliant idea, my dear fellow" Louis laughed, standing up and offering a hand to help Harry to his feet. He couldn't help kissing him anyway, but willed himself away so they could finish up with the set as quick as possible. Louis couldn't really bring himself to care that their progress was continuously hindered by snogging each time they crossed paths, like teenagers in love. He felt they both deserved a little silliness.
It was past dinnertime by the time they finished, and Louis was hungry, but if he was honest with himself, he just wanted Harry. Things had turned more heated and intense each time their lips met, hands tucking in jeans back pockets, getting under clothing and touching bare skin. Maybe Louis should worry that they were moving so fast, but then again, they'd done everything backwards anyway. They'd waited enough. Harry seemed to be on the same page, if the way he kept adjusting himself in his tight jeans was anything to go by. So Louis was not nervous in the least as they stopped by their cars. He asked, "Mine?", intent clear in his tone and his eyes. Harry just nodded and got into his car, saying he'd follow Louis home. Louis really liked the sound of that.

Louis was never made for living alone. He hated not having someone to talk to when he came home, someone to keep him company as he worked. Which is why he was always at someone else's place, or had the boys over quite often. Louis had moved on his own to this town, and he would've asked Liam or Zayn to be his flatmates after he befriended them, but they had both been settled in their own flats.
Louis was glad now that they'd had long leases on their flats, because he'd never be able to look either of them in the eye if they'd been there to hear the loud sounds that were coming from his bedroom.
He and Harry had managed to exercise some self-control as they went up the stairs, but it crumbled as soon as Louis shut the door behind him. They'd crashed into one another, tongues meeting before lips and fingers tugging at jackets with urgency. They'd stayed clothed until they reached the bedroom and suddenly, they slowed down. The frantic touches became soft caresses, undressing with care and taking time to see each other properly.
They were currently down to just pants, and Harry had Louis on the bed, head propped up against the pillows. Harry was sucking slow kisses on his stomach, running his hands up and down his parted thighs. He tortuously made his way lower, and Louis' voice shook as he said, "Fuck, Harry," for what felt like the hundredth time.
Harry looked up with a smirk. "That's the only thing you've said since we got here, have I turned you into a caveman?" he murmured against his skin, hands reaching up to tickle his sides lightly.
Louis laughed uncontrollably. "Fuck, Har—" he stopped himself, laughing harder. Harry joined him, his laughter vibrating against Louis' belly and making him squirm.
"What were you saying?" Harry asked innocently, fingers finally stilling.
Louis looked down at him, his smile becoming softer. "I love you," he said, remembering he hadn't said it in a while.
"I love you," Harry replied, kneeling on the bed between Louis' legs. Louis sat up and reached for him, kissing him and pulling him down to lie on top of him. Harry's weight was warm against Louis' body, his cock hard against his thigh, and Louis felt like he'd never get enough. Harry seemed content with just grinding against each other, and Louis needed more. His fingers went to tangle in Harry's hair, only to find it still tied up.
"The bun. Off, please," he told him, and Harry propped himself on his elbows, a small frown on his face.
"Don't you like my buns, hun?" he asked, his expression trying to remain serious and failing after a few seconds, lips twitching with amusement at his own joke. Louis groaned and then laughed despite himself.
"That was awful, Curly, terrible! How many years have you been holding on to that joke? That song is like five years old!" Louis said as their laughter died down.
"Hey, it's a classic!" Harry said, his affronted expression almost setting Louis off again, but then Harry's hand swiftly untied his hair, the curls falling free around his head. Louis was quick to bury one hand in them, Harry almost purring above him. He tugged a bit, and Harry moaned, leaning down. "You can keep doing that, while I suck you off, if you want?" he said in Louis' ear, and Louis shivered, nodding frantically.
Harry moved down Louis' body again, and Louis felt himself twitching in his pants in anticipation. He'd been hard for ages now, and he knew he probably wouldn't last long. It didn't worry him though, they had all night to make up for lost time. Louis gasped and his back arched as Harry licked and sucked at a nipple and rolled the other between his fingers. Satisfied with his reaction, Harry resumed his previous position between Louis' legs, this time tugging his boxers down.
"You're so gorgeous Lou, fuck," Harry said after a few seconds of silence in which he'd stared at Louis' naked form. Louis blushed, but didn't get to reply, as Harry's lips closed around the head of his cock. Every word except "fuck, yes, more, so good, Harry" disappeared from his vocabulary as Harry worked his mouth and his tongue and his hands on him. Harry hummed around him as he went deeper, Louis hitting the back of his throat. Harry just relaxed his muscles and bobbed his head a few times, his other hand rubbing himself through his pants. Louis felt himself throbbing with a new wave of arousal at that, fingers tightening in Harry's hair. He was alternating between focusing on the head and swallowing him down, and it was driving Louis mad with the need to come.
"Harry, please," he almost whimpered, and Harry pulled off to catch his breath.
"Yeah Lou, c'mon, wanna taste you," he said, and Louis moaned loudly as Harry took him in his mouth again, tonguing at the vein on the underside of his cock and sucking at the head.
"Cl-close," Louis said, the hand not holding on to Harry's hair clutching at the sheets. Harry hummed in encouragement, sucking hard, and Louis came with a shout of Harry's name, his body seizing. Harry kept his mouth on him, swallowing his come as Louis saw stars behind his eyelids. It took him a few seconds after coming down to realise Harry was talking.
"... so fucking beautiful baby, oh my God, I want to do that again, fuck," he was babbling, his hand flying on his cock. He'd finally pulled down his pants, and Louis felt a twinge of desire, scrambling to sit up in his haze. He gripped Harry's hip with one hand and wrapped the other one around his cock, fingers intertwining with Harry's. He sucked bruises at his collarbones and it didn't take long for Harry to reach his own orgasm, shuddering with it as Louis bit down harshly on his neck.
They collapsed on the bed tangled in each other, breathing heavily. Louis licked his palm clean, tasting Harry and humming around his fingers.
"Don't do that, you're so hot, please, it's already trying to get up again," Harry whined, gesturing down at himself, and Louis rolled on top of him.
"That was incredible babe, you're perfect, did you know that?" he whispered, pressing soft kisses on every part of his face he could reach. "What are your thoughts on kissing after blowjobs?" he asked seriously.
"Very pro-kissing," Harry replied, cupping Louis' jaw and bringing him down to join their lips, chasing their own tastes on each other's tongues.
"We still need to talk," Louis said after a while, pulling the sheets over their cooling bodies and cuddling close. "Are we going to tell everyone right away? The boys, Simon? Lucas?
"Is it too selfish of me to say that I don't want to share you just yet?" Harry said in a small voice. Louis knew exactly what he meant. "Like, we won't be able to keep it from the lads for long anyway, but maybe we should wait before letting everyone else know?"
"Yeah, I agree," Louis replied. "Though I can't promise I'll be able to keep my hands to myself now..."
"Fuck, me neither, but we have to try around Luke, I want to wait a bit before we explain, yeah?"
"Of course Haz," Louis said, squeezing his hand. He couldn't tell how he knew, but there was no doubt in his mind that Harry and him were a done deal already. "We'll just play it as it goes, right?"
Harry hummed in reply, eyes closed.
"Don't fall asleep on me Curly, I was promised that something or other would get up again..." Louis said, stroking a hand down Harry's torso.
"Mmm, if we go to sleep now, there can be lazy morning sex, and then breakfast," Harry countered, turning on his side and keeping Louis' hand cradled against his chest.
Louis considered it for a second before sighing and moulding his body behind Harry's. "Fine, but I'm holding you to that," he mumbled against his shoulder. "Just for future reference, do you always prefer being the little spoon?"
"Little spoon," was all Harry said, sounding sleepy. Louis laughed softly.
"Good night love," he said, pressing a kiss on the back of Harry's neck.
"G'night Lou, I love you."
"I love you too," Louis smiled, a profound sense of calm settling over him. It was amazing to realise that just a few months ago, Louis had felt that all the circling around Harry was only making him spiral out of control, and that he needed to put distance between them. He saw now that maybe he'd only needed to get closer to him, to feel tethered, anchored, stable on his feet like he was feeling right now.
They still had a lot of things to discuss about the future, but Louis felt like he could take on anything, least of all the play, which had somehow or other brought he and Harry together. He was starting to suspect their friends had had more than a bit to do with that, and he'd have to murder them, but that could wait. He believed in fate, but maybe sometimes it needed a bit of help to make things happen.
As Louis drifted off to sleep, he could agree with himself that that day in the toilet having a meltdown had ended up being his lucky day.