Start Me Up (Narry)

His heartbeat quickens when he sees the message. It's simple, only two words.

just landed

Only two words, but it's a text he's been waiting three years to receive.

Harry walks onto the patio surrounding the pool and looks out into the twilight. He's seen him, of course he's seen him, since that night three years ago, but always with a crowd of people around them, never alone for more than a few stolen moments, a quick hug, nothing like that night, never like that night.

Niall locks his phone and places it in his pocket before standing and pulling his bag from the overhead bin. Three years is a long time and it still haunts him. The loss he felt afterwards fueled most of his first album. On good days he likes to think it inspired some songs on Harry's album too but he's never sure and there's always something to make him wonder.

Once off the plane his security escorts him through a private exit to their waiting SUV.

"Should get you home about 6:20 Mr. Horan, depending on traffic.

Niall thanks the driver and relaxes into the seat, stretching his legs. The LA landscape speeds past him outside, busy people going about their busy lives. He's fortunate that he can move about fairly inconspicuously here, not like Harry who can't breathe without having his picture taken. By the time they pull into his driveway it's already 6:30 but he needs a shower. He's not going to see him like this, not covered in travel grunge, not if there's even a minuscule chance.

"Will you be going out tonight, Mr. Horan? I'll be available if you are."

"Please, call me Niall. I won't need you tonight, thanks again, Mike. You're a lifesaver."

Niall unlocks the door and enters the alarm code. He watches on the security panel while the driver pulls through the gate and then closes it. Upstairs, he drops his bag on the bed and walks into the closet. The clothes here in LA are casual. He lets his fingers glide over the material and finally settles on a blush colored button-down shirt covered in palm trees, deciding to pair it with jeans and boots. Turning around he sees the belt hanging on the rack. Reaching out, his fingers touch the soft, cool leather. It's a snap decision because he knows if he thinks about it he'll put it away, but something in him needs to wear the belt tonight.

After turning the water on in the shower he removes his dirty clothes and tosses them into the basket. The warm water washes over him for a few minutes before he takes a bottle of shower gel off the shelf and pours it onto the poof hanging beside it. There's nothing like a hot shower to loosen up sore muscles. He flexes his bicep to wash it and makes a mental note to roll up the sleeves on his shirt so it shows them off. He's spent hours in the gym to build up his body and he's proud of it, he's not the skinny kid Harry remembers anymore.

Ten minutes later his hair is dry and he's dressed, looping the belt through his jeans. His fingers shake a bit as he buckles it and he takes a deep breath. "Fuck's sake, get a grip," he mutters "You're 25, not 15."

He checks the bag to make sure he has everything and heads downstairs. In the garage he grabs the keys to the Range Rover and slides into the driver's seat. He enters the address Harry gave him into the car's sat nav and drives toward the street, stopping momentarily to look for fans or paps. The last thing he needs is someone following him tonght.

At half seven the buzzer on the gate sounds and Harry crosses over to the intercom to see who it is. He's been watching for fans and paparazzi all day to make sure no one is camped outside waiting for him. So far he's remained an anonymous renter here and he's grateful for the peace.

"It's me. I think I wrote the code down wrong. It's not working."

Harry opens the gate with a sigh of relief and moves quickly to the door to welcome his guest. He's strangely calm and not at all sure what that means. He's usually a bundle of nerves being around someone he fancies but this is Niall and he's never nervous around Niall.