The Rusty Old Minivan

Chapter 24

As expected, Tabatha was more than happy to babysit for another night. "But don't be surprised if you guys come back tonight and I've upped and left with your kids," she said, drawing Doris into her lap, "my ovaries are far too excited to have little ones around me again than what's healthy for a woman of my age."

"That's all right," Louis grinned, pinching Doris' cheek, "you take them for a month, I won't mind the break."

She laughed, linking her finger between Doris' little ones. "If I did, I don't think I'd be back in a month. Too in love with these little munchkins."

"Thanks again, Tabby," Harry said, coming up behind them to wrap Louis' jacket around his shoulders, "don't know what we'd have done without all of your help."

"Oh, pish posh." She waved her hand out dismissively, eyes fixed on Ernest who was panting and groaning, trying to climb into her lap , "get on with your night then, boys. I want these little ones to myself."

They said goodbye to Tabatha and the kids, then popped by the bedroom to kiss Freddie goodnight and headed out.

It wasn't before they were in the van, pulling out of the driveway and onto the main-road, that reality started to set in.

Louis flicked off the radio and laced his fingers together tightly, fixing his gaze on the dust-rain tapping the windshield.

"All right, I think I know where to go," Harry muttered, taking a left and resting his free hand on Louis' intertwined ones. "You all right, babe?"

"Yes," Louis replied and wonder at when he'd last answered that question without having to lie. "I'm good."

Harry let out a long sigh, squeezing Louis' hands. "Good," he echoed, the tone in his voice both fond and sad. "I hate this."

"Me too."

They drove for a while without speaking.

Louis fiddled with Harry's fingers, pulled to crack his knuckles and dug his nails underneath Harry's to pick out dirt. He couldn't keep still, couldn't keep his mind steady, not even for a second. This was the second time Harry had driven him to a meet-up, but Louis knew he'd never get to a point where it wouldn't make him feel terrible. Didn't think he wanted to.

They arrived at Alvin's hotel half an hour later, when the rain had stilled and the building was clear through their windows. It was a nice place, much fancier than the one Louis had met Chuck in, with a doorman in a suit, opening the doors for ladies with pearl necklaces and men with leather briefcases and shiny shoes.

So nice, in fact, that Harry couldn't hide his apprehension parking his rusty old van up the pavement before it.

"You going straight up to his room?" he asked, glancing at the doorman to be sure he wouldn't be asked to move his van, "what number was it again?"

"No," Louis replied, looking through the large windows to the hotel restaurant. He couldn't pin Alvin down from here, but knew he'd be able to the second he walked inside. Alvin was one of many, but his frizzy blonde hair and nervous blue eyes never seized to stand out in a crowd. "We're having dinner first, I think."

"Oh." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Like, drinks or-"

"Dinner."

Louis unclicked his seatbelt, but it seemed Harry was holding his breath, or at least trying to steady it, so Louis stayed in his seat, adding; "this guy, ehm- Alvin, is his name. We always have- always used to have dinner first. Before going up to- ehm... yeah."

"Really? What, so like, you sit there and, what, talk about-"

That was the moment Louis realized Harry wasn't okay. Well, he knew Harry wasn't okay with any of this, but this in particular - the thought of Louis sitting at a fancy restaurant, much fancier than anything Harry would ever be able to take him to, and eating nice food over candle-lights and expensive wine - this was more than he'd bargained for.