The Rusty Old Minivan

Chapter 11

"All right. So tomorrow night I'm going club-jumpin' on the sell. I'll do that every evening if I don't get any sells. On Sunday after that I've got a bloke picking up fifty grams, which is great. So by Monday we should've gotten at least half a hundred grams sold. If all goes well."

Niall lifted his gaze from Harry's laptop, nodding contently.

He, Harry, Louis and Lottie were all perched across the big bed, Harry between Louis' legs, rested back against his stomach. Harry had arrived late afternoon with Chinese take-away for everyone. Louis suspected it was merely a sly attempt at getting back in his good graces. He also decided that he'd take it, seeing as he couldn't afford dinner.

They'd eaten, they'd played fish, they'd read the little ones to sleep, and now, to top off the perfect family evening, they were sitting in the bed, planning how and when to sell their three-hundred grams of cocaine. It was nothing if not idyllic.

"Right," Lottie said, "and I've gotten into a college party with some of my girlfriends. We should be able to sell some."

"And then I'll take care of the rest," Harry concluded. "And Louis," he tilted his head back against Louis' chest, giving him a bright-eyed lop-sided smile, "you'll stay home and take care of the kids."

Louis shifted, fixing his jeans under Harry. "Think my balls just shrunk three sizes there, mate."

Harry nudged him in the crotch with his elbow. "I'll fix that for you later," he muttered, which made Lottie scream "meeting adjourned!" and Niall scrunch his face up in disgust.

Soon after, they all went to bed. The decision that Niall took the toddlers to sleep with him on his mattress and Harry slept in Louis' bed was made without anyone really ever saying anything. It was late, Harry had had a few beers and, well, Louis didn't want him to leave. Maybe it showed. Maybe it came screaming from his throat every time he scoffed at one of Harry's dad jokes. Maybe it was written in the lines of his frown whenever Harry fucked up his words in the middle of a sentence. Maybe the only one Louis was fooling was himself, thinking he had any sort of control in this. Thinking he hadn't already lost his mind over Harry.

They lied down, side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

Harry shifted onto his side, splaying a hand out on Louis' chest, right where his heart was punching through his ribcage. He moved in, slowly, puffing unsteady breaths onto the side of Louis' face. Soon he was close enough to press his lips to Louis' cheekbone, then another to the apple of his cheek and one to the side of his mouth. "This okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Louis rolled over to face him, "come closer."

It was dark, but Harry's eyes were bright before him, young and boyish for a moment as he shifted close as he could. Their arms snaked around each other under the duvets, their legs entangling and cocks rubbing close enough for friction.

But it wasn't about that right then.

Right then, in that quiet little moment under the duvet, it was just about Harry kissing Louis' forehead, humming contentedly and murmuring, "god, I've needed this."

*

In the morning, Louis woke wrapped around Harry, both legs hooked over his thighs and his hands linked together around his stomach. His nose was buried in Harry's long hair and he smelled nice. Fresh. A bit like morning dew on grass and drugstore lemon shampoo. His body felt strong and soft at the same time, his stomach muscles flexing ever so slightly under Louis' fingers with every breath he took. Lying there, Louis caught himself thinking for a second- this could be okay. He could be okay waking up like this, every now and again.