Two Degrees of Separation

Chapter 7: Cracked

Author's Note: This one is a bit short, but it oozes fluffiness and I love their banter so much. :D

Chapter 7: Cracked

"How did you write Sign of the Times?" Scott asked, glancing up from the Chinese food in his hands, allowing the chopsticks to fall from his fingers.

"How?" Harry asked, confused.

"It's pretty... epic. What came first?"

"The lyrics came first," Harry shrugged.

"I would have assumed the opposite." Scott mused.

"Yeah, that one was a weird experience. I think the whole process took weeks. It just sort of took on a life of its own."

Scott nodded, not knowing what more to say. Since their almost-kiss, he was having trouble wrapping his head around anything that was going on.

Was it even an almost-kiss? Was Harry actually leaning in, or was I acting like a psychopath?

Harry stood from his spot on his chair and plopped down next to the blond. Their legs were brushing up against each other, leaving Scott feeling anxious.

"I like Cracked," Harry said suddenly, after a moment.

"You... like crack?" Scott said, blinking at him. Scott enjoyed watching Harry's face burst into a wide smile with his comment.

"I like your song, Cracked, you tosspot." Scott felt a warmth radiate in his chest, now.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, what in God's name is a tosspot?"

"You know, like a stupid person." Harry was grinning at him.

Scott feigned offence, placing his hand over his heart.

"Anyway. Who wrote that one?" Harry continued.

"I wrote it with our old bass singer and a couple of other people." Scott said with laughter still in his voice. "Took about an hour." He paused. "I'm surprised you have even heard that one."

"I may have done my research before committing to write songs with you." Scott didn't miss Harry's slightly flushed cheeks as he admitted this. "You made a mistake with that one, though," Harry added after a moment.

"How so?"

"Well, it's not necessarily a mistake. It's only considered to be if you wanted it to get radio attention."

"That's not really ever our intention," Scott shrugged, not knowing that Harry found his comment to be extremely attractive.

"Ah, alright then. Well I guess it's fine that the one section being actually impossible for anyone to sing along to doesn't matter, then."

"What part?" Scott couldn't help but laugh.

"The bridge. Impossible. I actually am doubtful that you can do it. The breath control, and then that run... I stand behind my theory. Impossible. In fact, I doubt you even ever sing that one live." Harry's face was in a permanent smile now, as if this were a challenge. Scott attempted to look insulted, but his mouth kept smirking, unintentionally.

"Harry Styles, I am offended."

"Then prove me wrong."

"There are plenty of live videos of that song. Look it up."

"No. Prove it now."

"Jerk."

"Poser."

"Wow."

"Wow, indeed. Go."

Fire, fire, rising inside me
Liar, liar, treat me so bad
My oh my, you hurt me so gladly
Why oh why you do me like that

Fire, fire, rising inside me
Liar, liar, treat me so bad
My oh my, you hurt me so gladly
Why oh why you do me like that
Whoa, whoa, whoa...

Scott closed his eyes and riffed for longer and more intricately than he had for the recording.

Well mine's cracked.

Scott opened his eyes after a moment, meeting Harry's wide ones.

"You win." Harry's voice was monotone, and his face was contorted in pure shock. Scott sat back, smugly.

"Better watch it now, Styles," he teased.

"Guess so," Harry replied.

"You should probably apologize to me," Scott pouted, allowing his eyes to emote as much hurt as possible.

His acting attempt was short-lived, however, because suddenly there was a hand on his jaw and lips had captured his own, greedily.

They were kissing?

They were kissing.

Harry had kissed him.

Scratch that.

They were making the fuck out.

Scott began to run his hands through Harry's hair as Harry nibbled on Scott's bottom lip. Scott was temporarily mortified at the sound of his own needy low moan, but Harry made him forget it quickly as he swung his leg over Scott's lap, straddling him.

Harry's tongue was down Scott's throat. Harry was sitting in his lap. Harry was...

Oh, God. Harry was grinding down on him and Scott might actually pass away.

Just when Scott thought he was going to die of asphyxiation (because, quite honestly, he had forgotten how to breathe), Harry pulled back, resting his forehead against Scott's and panting slightly. Scott was glad he wasn't the only one who had forgotten how to carry out basic life functions.

"I've wanted to do that since I saw you standing at the bar." Harry whispered. Scott's heart was pounding painfully in his chest. No, wait. He might actually be dying. With Harry still straddling his waist, he suddenly felt like he couldn't catch his breath.

Harry was clearly worried by Scott's silence, so he spoke again, placing a soft hand under Scott's chin to force him to look at him. "You with me, beautiful?"

Scott's eyes were suddenly focused on the man above him. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around how this is even possible."

"You're so damn cute," Harry replied, laughing lightly.

"What is actually happening?" Scott asked, still bewildered, no longer caring if he sounded stupid.

"You're going to let me take you out." Harry said, simply.

"When am I gonna do that?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Okay."

"Okay." Harry smiled as he took Scott's lips into another quick kiss before hopping off of his lap.

"See you tomorrow." Harry drawled as he walked away, slowly, pausing only to pick up his guitar and shoot Scott a wink.

And with that, Harry was gone, leaving Scott with an overwhelming feeling of longing. And God, he wished those butterflies would leave his stomach alone.

Scott lay awake that night, wondering if he had fallen sleep at all. Every time he shut his eyes, he was met with those beautiful green orbs staring into his soul, that perfect body draped over his, and those strong hands rubbing along his jawline.

He was pretty sure that for as long as this man continued to show him any interest at all, Scott was doomed to a life of sleepless nights.

A/N: The fluffiness has to be broken up soon, and if any of you know me, you know I like to make poor Scottie suffer... Enjoy this while it lasts!!