Work Text:
Niall has always found the subject of masturbation fascinating. Sure, he’s whacked it himself, multiple times in fact, but it’s always interesting to hear what other kinds of habits some people have.
For instance, his neighbor, Zayn, had once shared the unfortunate anecdote of when he had shoved the handle of a badminton racket, usually used for well, badminton, up his arsehole. Despite Zayn’s protests, “I swear it happened! My bum hurt for fucking weeks!”, Niall had just thrown him a look of disgust and waved it off, not wanting to delve further into the story.
You see, that sort of thing is very hard to believe.
Niall, on the other hand, has never bothered to try anything in regards to his arse and really has no plans to start any time soon, although it does seem intriguing. He thinks he’ll leave that to a boyfriend, if he is to ever actually get one. For whatever reason, boys seem to gravitate away from him, even when he goes to clubs where he’s so sure that there’s going to be someone there that wants to take him home for the night. Unfortunately, Niall is normally left feeling frustrated, horny, and very drunk, having sat by the bar, glaring at people that are enjoying themselves, and by the time he calls a cab to bring him back to his flat, he’s given up hope on ever getting with anyone.
It’s a bit of a vicious cycle.
Niall is currently sitting on his front porch with a book that his friend from uni had lent him and he is trying very hard to concentrate on the words, but he keeps looking up like he’s expecting something to happen.
It’s the middle of the summer and he’s off from school, so Niall has had basically nothing to do for the past month and a half. He’s spent his time playing videogames with his flatmate, Louis, but even that gets boring after a while, especially when Louis always wins. Other than that, he’s been lying around in a somewhat vegetable state wherever he finds himself, whether it be his bed, the couch, or even on the floor, face down. He knows he should find a job, though he doesn’t necessarily need the cash, but he’s pretty desperate to find something to pass the time until uni starts again in the fall.
He huffs in annoyance, anxiously tapping his bare foot on the ground. Upon realising that there’s no more point of attempting to read the rather boring text, he throws it aside and stretches himself out on his lawn chair, looking to take a nap in the warm sun.
His breathing eventually evens out as he dozes, his arm slipping off his of his stomach to hang at the side of his chair, a light snore escaping his slackened jaw. His eyes pop open at the sound of a motored vehicle and he turns his head slightly to see the mail-truck rumbling to a stop in front of his neighbour’s house. The hand that pops out to open the mailbox has a small tattoo, almost too small to be noticeable from Niall’s spot, of a cross. The fingers themselves are long, with clean, unblemished nails, and are also adorned with numerous rings. Niall has an inkling that the person that the hand belongs to is probably incredibly attractive, so he sits up, waiting for the mail-truck to move in front of his home. After a few moments, the truck starts back up, moving slowly to Niall’s mailbox. Niall shoots off the porch, doing a run-walk (as to not look like too much of an idiot, though he’s aware that he still looks like one anyway) to get his mail from the carrier. He smooths his hair back and plasters a small smile on his face, hoping that the years of braces will be noticed by the hot mailman, or so Niall assumes.
He isn’t wrong.
The man sitting in the truck appears to be of Niall’s age, if not younger. He has this long, very curly brown hair that looks as though it needs a cut, and it’s held back by a bandanna, showing off a clear face with dazzling green eyes and expressive eyebrows. His lips are the colour of cotton candy - the pink kind that you would find at a carnival. Niall’s smile falls off his face as his mouth drops open, having not exactly prepared for how ridiculously beautiful this person is.
“Urm, hi,” Niall squeaks, carding a hand through his hair, not really registering that his hard work on his usual quiff has probably gone to shit now. He sticks his tongue in his cheek as the boy’s lips curve into a gentle grin that makes his eyes seem impossibly brighter, his teeth quite stupidly pearly white and straight.
Niall wants to kiss him.
“Hi,” the boy says, his voice deep and slow, a lot like what melted chocolate would sound like if it actually made any sound. He holds out a package of mail, the ring on his index finger glinting in the sunlight.
Niall bites at his bottom lip as he grabs at his mail, unintentionally brushing his knuckles against the boy’s fingers. He jerks his hand back as if he has just been stung and the boy gives him an odd look.
“You okay?”
Niall gulps and bobs his head, knowing that he looks like a knob and feeling a bit like one as well. “I-I’m fine. You’re uh, you’re the new mail carrier, aren't you?” Niall mentally kicks himself because duh, of course the boy is. Why else would he be riding in the fucking mail-truck?
The boy’s grin comes back as quickly as it had faded. “Yeah, it’s my first day on the job,” he says, a hand reaching up to adjust his bandanna. Niall would like to think that that’s a nervous habit he has because he would really like to think that he’s the one that’s making the boy all jittery.
Niall scratches at the back of his head, a blush beginning to heat his cheeks as the boy continues to stare at him, that same, fond smile still lighting up his face. Niall cocks his head when he notices the dimples showing up. He wants to poke them. Then maybe fuck the boy in the back of the mail-truck. “So um-?”
The boy snaps out of whatever reverie he was in and lays his hands back on the steering wheel. Niall watches his fingers curl around it and can’t help but fantasise how one of those large, large hands would feel around his dick. Niall shakes his head violently.
“I’m sorry, I gotta go and deliver the rest of this mail,” he says, eyes shifting from Niall, to the mail at his side, and then back again, “I never got your name, by the way.”
Niall blinks. “Oh. It’s Niall. Niall Horan.”
The boy smiles again. To be completely honest, Niall would probably never get tired of seeing it. “My name’s Harry. I’ll see you around.” With a wink that Niall barely catches, he presses down on the gas and chugs on. Niall stands still, his heart pounding in his chest, staring at the back of the mail-truck as it moves down the street.
“Shit.”
----
Niall refrains from telling Louis about Harry. He can’t exactly figure out why he would hide something like this from him, because Louis has been hoping for Niall to get a boyfriend ever since they moved in together - and that was four years ago. Yes, even after four fucking years of Louis’ constant encouragement, or what Niall would say, whining, for Niall to “get the fuck out there”, he has yet to snag anyone. It’s rather sad.
Until now. Maybe.
He could be very wrong, but he thinks that it’s altogether possible that Harry had been pretty damn interested in Niall, what with the blatant staring and the constant smiling. Then again, Niall doesn’t do a spectacular job at distinguishing certain facial expressions from one another, as he has been told.
It’s nice to hope though, right?
After several nights of rather violent wanking in the shower, filled with filthy thoughts of a certain brunette maybe, possibly sucking the life out of him, Niall is once again on the porch, sat on the concrete step, impatiently waiting for Harry to show up. He checks his watch and sees that it’s half two, which is actually a bit later than he had initially wanted to be outside, but a call from Zayn, gushing about how his boyfriend, Liam, had brought him out on a wonderful date to a diner and then they had fantastic, mind-blowing sex has him running a bit late.
He taps his fingertips against his thigh, eyes scanning back and forth, looking for the junky mail-trunk slowly making its way down Niall’s street. It’s a bit insane, actually, because ever since Niall met Harry, hell, he doesn’t even know his last name, he’s been on Niall’s mind literally ever since. Sure, he’s had his share of guys that he thought he may have had a thing for, but those are nothing compared to what it is he’s feeling for Harry.
He gnaws at his lip, a habit he has acquired over the course of a week. He thinks that maybe Harry will take note of how plump his lower lip is and will possibly take advantage of it; of course, Harry may need just a little bit of prompting, but Niall probably won’t do anything about it.
Niall’s ears pick up the familiar sound of the mail-truck and his heartbeat accelerates in anticipation. Though Harry may not be interested, Niall has made it his mission to at least ask Harry out for a drink at a local club - that is, if he can muck up enough courage to get past the whole blubbering thing he’s suddenly got going on whenever he so much as looks at Harry. He untucks his shirt that has somehow gotten into the waistband of his jeans (his skinniest jeans, obviously) and rubs at his nose. He grimaces and wipes his fingers on his pants, hopefully getting rid of anything that may have found its way out of his nostrils - God forbid he have snot hanging out while talking up one of the most gorgeous guys Niall has ever had the absolute, and he means absolute, pleasure of meeting. Oh, and he may or may not be wanting to thread his fingers through that mane that Harry calls hair.
“Jesus Christ,” Niall mutters, negative thoughts coming to mind when he thinks of all the things that could go wrong in the few minutes he’ll be able to spend with Harry. What if I sneeze on him? What if I gross him out somehow? What if I blurt out something that he should not hear? Niall has never felt this fucking edgy around anyone and that even includes Zayn.
“Hi, I’m Zayn,” his neighbor had said with a brilliant smile, his hand extended out for Niall to take. Niall had only stared at him, completely awestruck.
“You’re beautiful,” he managed to choke out. As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened in horror and he rapidly began to redden. Zayn merely laughed and grabbed at Niall’s hand, giving him a firm shake. He gave Niall another smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“We’re going to be great friends, I can tell.”
Ever since then, Niall has had Zayn over to his own place countless times. To Niall’s disgruntlement, Louis had somehow rigged Zayn into sleeping with him. At the beginning, Niall was upset and refused to speak to Louis for a long while until Louis apologised and said that he had actually never had sex with him because Zayn was so into Liam, who, at the time, had no idea what Zayn felt for him. Niall had smacked him in the back of the head with a shoe and called him a fucking asshole, but Louis had merely chuckled and ruffled Niall’s hair.
Niall walks as patiently as he can to the bottom of his driveway, looking off to the right to see Harry’s ridiculous hair blowing back behind the windshield. He grins widely as Harry rolls to a stop in front of Niall. As soon as he spots Niall, his face splits into a big, fat smile of his own.
“Good afternoon, Niall,” he says, saluting the blond with a slight flourish of his hand.
Niall positively glows with pleasure.
Harry turns to the side, rummaging for Niall’s mail, and turns back, holding out a stack of envelopes for Niall to take. “So, were you waiting for me to show up or something?”
The corner of Niall’s mouth twitches. Shit. “Um, no? I just happened to be out here at the same time that you were coming by-”
Harry purses his lips and presses the back of hand against his lips, clearly trying not to laugh. Niall notices and scoffs at him. “What’s so damn funny?”
Harry shakes his head slightly, amusement making his eyes sparkle. “No, nothing’s funny. It’s just- I was joking, Niall.”
Niall crosses his arms and pouts, his lower lip protruding as he trains his eyes on the sidewalk. He peeks up through his eyelashes to see that Harry has begun playing with the rings on his fingers, a guilty expression starting to make way onto his face. Niall sighs.
“I know you’re kidding, Harry, but hey-” he pauses. Harry blinks at him, waiting.
“Would you like to-” he gnaws on his bottom lip, “would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”
A crease appears in between Harry’s eyebrows, looking as though he’s actually offended that Niall would even dare ask him such a thing. Niall gulps, already fearing the rejection that’s sure to come at any moment.
“Niall-”
Niall drops his gaze back down to the ground and scuffs his shoe against the pavement, feeling disappointment washing over him. “I’m sorry I asked, but I mean you’re just really pretty and-”
“Niall, I would love to.”
Niall’s head snaps up, thinking that he had heard wrong. “Wait, what?”
Clearly Niall really does have a problem with reading people’s expressions.
Harry dimples again as he reaches an arm out the window in his door to curl his fingers underneath Niall’s chin, gently tugging him closer to the metal separating the two of them. Niall’s eyes connect with Harry’s own and he can’t help but get lost in the green depths of them. His mouth parts slightly.
“So, can I kiss you now?” Harry says.
Niall nods robotically, rooted to the spot. Harry chuckles and presses his lips to Niall’s.
They’re soft, supple, and Niall closes his eyes and begins to trace the seam of Harry’s lips with the tip of his tongue, urging Harry to open his mouth. His tongue curls around Harry’s as they kiss rather sloppily due to the fact that Niall is quite short and Harry is up in a seat a few feet above the ground, but they make it work anyways. Harry breaks the kiss and pulls away, leaving Niall pretty fucking dazed beyond belief.
“So, does tomorrow night at about seven work?” Harry asks, his stupid green eyes twinkling again, “I can pick you up.”
Niall grabs at his chest, feeling as though his heart is going to burst right out of his ribcage. “I- yeah, that would work,” he stammers.
“Good.” Harry leans back over the window and pecks Niall on the lips, this time lingering a bit. His hand that is hanging out the window twists itself into Niall’s hair, fingering gently at the strands. “You have really soft hair, babe.”
Niall beams at the endearing pet name that he has somehow already received even though he’s only known Harry for all of a week. “Thanks, I grew it myself.”
Harry guffaws loudly at that and Niall’s lower stomach flutters.
“I have to go and deliver more mail, so I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Harry says, his hand still in Niall’s hair. He takes it out and Niall can’t help but whimper a bit because well, having hands in his hair is always quite pleasurable. Just ask Louis - he has his locks played with all the time.
Harry shifts to drive as he gives Niall one last glance, winking at him much like the first time that they met and Niall feels as though this is the start of a beautiful relationship. Imagine, dating a mailman?
Never would have thought.