My Only Lover(s)

This Is A Date?

When Harry agreed to dinner he didn't expect for it to be at the house of two of the biggest names in the music industries' home.

As Ed pulled into the community through the front gate Harry's palms started getting a little sweaty. These houses were ridiculously huge. They might as well have been hotels.

Harry glanced at the address he'd scribbled across a napkin before glancing at the numbers on doors, the numbers getting higher and higher, before Ed pulled to a stop in front of one of the many mega-mansions.

"You have you're phone on you?"

Harry nodded.

"If you need anything Cher and I will come get you right away, okay?"

Cherry rested her hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave him a bit of a squeeze, "Ed's just being fretting, everything will be fine." She sounded so sure of herself, "These are your mates."

"We'll pick you up at half past eight, okay?" Ed jumped in.

Harry smiled fondly as he got out of the car. Waving his friends goodbye and wishing them well on their own date before they sped away. He didn't mention the fact that he was pretty sure he was about to get dumped without ever even getting to go on a date. At least they were doing it in person. Harry was pretty sure a text would just about kill him.

Standing in front of Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Maliks' house Harry felt terribly out of place. It was imposing, white-concrete, and floor to ceiling windows that were so clean that were so spotlessly immaculate that had Harry not been on extra high alert, he probably would have walked into them.

He approached the door, his hand held out ready to knock, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He reached out, he'd almost worked up the nerve to do it too when the door shot wide open.

"You must be Harry." The voice was so freakishly familiar from all the interviews he'd been watching. Measured and thoughtful. Although, he was pretty sure even if he'd never heard it before it would still make his legs wobble and his heart ache.

"And I guess you're Zayn," Harry reached his hand out awkwardly. He was pretty sure this was the first time in his life he'd shaken hands with someone under the age of like sixty. It was weird. Really weird.

Their house was bright, glowing with soft light, and Harry could smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen. He breathed it in deeply.

"I hope you like pasta."

"I love." Harry assured.

Zayn grinned, "Thank fuck. Lou nearly hired caterers because he was worried you wouldn't like any of the things we can cook."

"No, pasta is perfect." Caterers? What exactly was he dealing with here?

The kitchen was large, with sprawling white counters and every appliance known to man, but Harry could only stare at the man, standing at the stove. Zayn wrapped his arms around the mans neck, and seeing the two of them together, in person, something clicked in his soul. He wasn't sure what, but he couldn't shake the feeling of desperately wanting.

"Harry, this is Lou."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off the two of them. He was in the presence of gods. He was about to make a fool of himself again by reaching out his hand when Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Harold." Louis' gaze was smoldering, and in a moment Harry was flanked from behind by Zayn as well. This was not how he pictured things going at all. Yet he was so inexplicably happy. He wanted to stand there embracing for hours. For the rest of his life maybe.