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"I'd really prefer it if you put that knife away."
Louis glares at the boy lingering rather unhelpfully behind his back. "I'm trying to get us out of this situation, you ungrateful arsehole."
"Well, excuse me, but I'm trapped in the flat of a moody stranger who's waving a knife around. I think that's a viable reason for concern," Harry counters, not a trace of said concern in the slow, deliberate way his mellow baritone delivers the words.
The metal clanks as Louis continues to stab at the lock on the handcuffs with a kitchen knife. "Moody," he huffs, tightening his fist around the plastic handle. "You try spending your birthday with an idiot hanging from your wrist."
He squints against the sunlight filtering in through the blinds drawn halfway over the window above the sink. It assaults his stinging, sleep-deprived eyes and highlights the speckles of dust coating the kitchen appliances. He should clean the place one of these days… and maybe learn how to cook.
"That's not how you pick a lock," Harry comments after watching him struggle for a while longer, leaning against the counter in his ridiculous purple coloured animal print yoga pants that strain around his monster of a cock and cling to his slim legs. Louis is not staring. He's not.
"You would know, wouldn't you?" he sneers as he reverts his eyes back to the handcuffs and twists the knife with more force.
"For the fifth time, I did not break into your flat."
"No, you just jumped in through the balcony." Louis' life is a travesty, he concludes as he heaves a sigh from the depth of his soul before discarding the knife in favor of picking up his phone again. "Anyway, you don't need to worry. I'm not a murderer," he remembers to point out. "Yet," he tacks on when he spots Niall's name in his contact list.
"That's reassuring."
He dials Liam after the call to Niall goes straight to answerphone like the previous ten times.
"Do you know what your twat of a roommate did?" he asks as soon as Liam picks up.
"Louis, I don't have time for your games."
"He stole a pair of your handcuffs," Louis continues like Liam hasn't spoken at all, "told my neighbour something had happened to me to let him use his balcony to break into my flat-"
"Lou –"
"– proceeded to smother me with a pillow and scream my name until said neighbour followed him in and then he handcuffed us together. And you know what he said?"
"Louis –"
"He said it was my birthday present, the absolute idiot, and ran away before I could strangle him. You need to bring me the key, Li. I'm tired and hungover and my family's coming over for lunch. It's an emergency."
"I'm working a case in York. I'll be back tonight."
"What? Liam, Liam, no, you can't do this to me," Louis' voice grows frantic as he paces barefoot over the cold kitchen tiles, Harry stumbling after him. "You're an officer of the law, you're supposed to help people. Li, please. You have to-"
"I can't talk now, Lou."
"Liam James Payne, don't you dare –" He looks up at Harry in horror. "He hung up. He seriously fucking hung up on me."
Harry shrugs, looking terribly unaffected for someone who claimed to fear for his life a minute ago as he one-handedly fixes the bun atop his head, his bicep bulging under the intricate tattoo of a ship decorating his bare arm. "Better get started on that cooking."
***
"I need a wee. And a shower. And a nap," Louis laments after they've managed to situate themselves somewhat comfortably on the couch. The muscles of his right arm already ache from being tugged around ever since he was so violently roused from sleep an hour ago.
"You're still wearing yesterday's clothes, aren't you?" Harry asks, eyeing Louis head to toe with undisguised distaste while he himself is sitting with his feet tucked under his bum like he enjoys having his junk at full display under the tight material of his pants.
"How was I supposed to know that I wouldn't get a chance to change them in the morning when I got home pissed as fuck last night? And who are you to talk? Have you seen yourself in the mirror today?"
"Your friend interrupted my yoga session," Harry says like that explains everything while Louis’ gaze is drawn to his pert nipples poking through his bright yellow tank top.
"Ah, yes, the yoga you do on your one square metre of a balcony." Louis is well acquainted with the sight of his neighbour folding himself into pretzel-like shapes each morning when Louis comes out for a smoke. It's not unimpressive. Louis sometimes finds himself entranced by the fluid movements, the flexibility of his limbs and the strength of his muscles. His mind almost drifts to pleasant imagery of the ways such talents could be put to use, but then... the flute. His neighbour never fails to grate on his nerves, and when he's doing yoga, it's the chirping of the flute that he uses as background noise that makes Louis want to pull his hair out.
"I like doing it in the open," he grins like he's proud of himself, proper dimples settling into his cheeks.
Louis ignores the innuendo. "Very open, that square metre of space."
"The sun and the air, Louis, is the point," he sighs dramatically, casting his green eyes toward the ceiling. "The constraints are liberating, anyway."
"Oh my god, who says stuff like that?" Louis grimaces. "The fuck is it supposed to mean? Are these handcuffs liberating, too? Jesus Christ."
"You complain a lot," Harry notes, letting his head fall back against the cushions as he stretches his back. Louis' eyes follow the curve of his neck and travel down to the expansion of his ribs under the flimsy top. It rides up a bit, revealing a strip of pale smooth skin and the jut of his hipbones. God, he hates him. He's even more annoying up close.
"Of course I complain," he bursts out. "Do I need to remind you what's going on right now?"
"It's curious, though..." A grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he drags out his words. "...that your friend thought I'd make a good birthday present."
"Exactly what are you implying?" Louis cuts in sharply. "Yes, I've mentioned you, as in the neighbour that annoys the hell out of me."
"I annoy you?" He sucks his lower lip into his mouth to trap it under his teeth as he frowns like he's contemplating his entire existence now that he’s faced with the fact that someone actually might dislike him.
"Yes," Louis exclaims, eyebrows arched high in disbelief, "Haven't I made that clear?"
"But... why?" He sounds genuinely confused and Louis could punch him, honestly. He just doesn't fancy dragging an unconscious body around wherever he goes. "You don't even know me."
"Have you not noticed how thin these walls are? I practically live with you. I hear your stupid music and your weird squealing pet, your sex life keeps me up at night and your morning cooking wakes me up at the arsecrack of dawn. It's fucking annoying, alright?"
He sags sideways onto the couch and flings a pillow over his face when he's done with his rant, already regretting not keeping his mouth shut. His arm remains stuck behind his back, stretched taut toward Harry's hand that's resting on the back of the couch.
"Sorry," is what Harry chooses to mumble in response. The pillow muffles Louis' groan. He can't do this. His temples are throbbing, his stomach is rolling, and his mouth tastes like stale vodka. He's in no state to deal with another human being in his presence, let alone his arsehole of a neighbour. "I didn't realize any of that," he continues, oblivious to Louis' internal screaming. "How come I never hear you then?"
Louis' eyes snap open, eyelashes dragging against the pillowcase. "What?"
"I've never heard you, like, having sex or something."
The pillow hits the floor with a soft thud. "Are you – are you seriously suggesting that I don't have a sex life? And you wonder why I can't stand you – "
"No, I wasn't – ," Harry's eyes go wide. "I didn't mean to insult you, I'm just saying that's why I didn't know – "
"I'm going to take that piss now," Louis declares as he rises to his feet and stomps off to the bathroom, tugging Harry along and ignoring the sounds of him crashing into furniture. "Like the fucking Human Centipede," he mutters.
Harry wouldn't know what it's like being heavily closeted. He's perfectly fine screaming out other men's names for the whole building to hear. And Louis, well, he's only ever told Niall and look how well that turned out.
He really fucking needs to get out of the damn handcuffs before his mother shows up on his doorstep.
"Well, this is a new experience," Harry comments, as helpful as ever, when they reach the toilet, his hot breath tickling the back of Louis' neck. His hand dangles from the other end of the chain that binds them as Louis unbuttons his trousers and takes out his cock.
"Shut up."
"I'm not watching, I swear." His voice sounds deeper, though, quieter as his lips move right next to Louis' ear. A shiver coils down Louis' spine and no, he absolutely refuses to get hard while he's taking a piss in front of a stranger.
"I told you to shut up, you kinky bastard."
Harry gasps in mock offence. "And pray tell, why am I kinky?"
Louis watches his long fingers twitch, now suspended in air above Louis' cock, as far as the chain lets him. "I've heard quite enough to know for fact that you are."
"Oh, yeah?" he breathes. "Did you like what you heard?"
Louis turns his head to the side to give him an unimpressed look, but his eyes land on Harry's plump lips instead, finding them hovering closer than he anticipated and coloured a vivid red that can't possibly be natural.
"Are you wearing lipstick?" he asks before he can stop himself.
Harry's tongue darts out, swipes once over his lower lip and leaves it glistening under the fluorescent bathroom light.
"No, I was born with it," he quips and Louis' too engrossed in following every micro-movement that shapes the words that he misses his cue for an eye-roll.
He can picture it now, the way his mouth parts to release the groans he hears through the wall, the way he maybe squeezes his eyes shut and flexes those fingers into the sheets as he comes and—.
Louis abruptly turns back around and fumbles to tuck his cock back into his trousers before he gets fully hard.
It's the remnants of those tequila shots in his bloodstream, he tells himself as he lets the cold water pour down to his wrists. He watches it spill into Harry's palm, his soft exhales still tickling his cheek, the warmth of his body engulfing his back.
He doesn't like how small it makes him feel, the way Harry's hand looks almost twice as large as his, the way he surrounds him completely with his broad shoulders and strong arms, their eyes at the same level when they meet in the mirror only because he's hunched over.
"Is that your kink then?" Harry questions, tongue tracing the contours of his lips like he's trying to drive Louis mad. "Lipstick?"
Louis rolls his eyes as he reaches for a towel.
"What else then? Skirts, lingerie? You'd like seeing me in some garters?"
"I wouldn't like seeing you in anything," Louis cuts him off before he gets more mental images he doesn't need.
"If you say so."
***
"Niall, darling... Where the fuck are you?"
"At home. Why?" His response is followed by muffled cackles.
"Have you happened to come across a certain key while you're there?" Harry's eyebrows rise at Louis' passive-aggressive tone.
"Nope. I've looked everywhere." He sighs like he's exhausted just thinking about how much effort he put into looking for the key. "Liam said he'll get you out when he comes back."
"Niall, you know I can't wait that long – " He lowers his phone to stare at the screen now showing that the call has been disconnected. "He fucking hung up."
"I'm sensing a pattern." Harry's sense of humour is unyielding despite the situation at hand.
Louis glares at him.
"Why are you so unconcerned? Don't you have anywhere to be?"
"I don't work on Saturdays," he explains, tugging on Louis' hand as he shuffles to make himself more comfortable on the couch. He ends up curled against Louis' side, head resting on Louis' shoulder without any regard for his personal space. "I was planning on getting some cleaning done, but I suppose that can wait until tomorrow."
"And what exactly is it that you do for a living?" Louis simply knows it's going to be something ridiculous. He can feel it.
"I'm a dog stylist."
"What?"
"A dog stylist. I do haircuts. For dogs."
"Fucking hell."
Harry looks up at him and pouts. "What? It's a nice job."
Louis hums. "Contributing to society in the most noble way."
Harry's fingers dig into his side in a playful pinch.
"Hey," he protests, attempting to slap his hand away with the hand that's tied to it. His wrist is starting to cramp.
"Are you ticklish?"
"Oh, no, you don't."
Harry grins and the next thing Louis knows he's gasping for air in between giggles, edging on screams, squirming uncontrollably until he makes them tumble off the couch.
He huffs when Harry's full weight lands on top of him, knocking the air out of his lungs.
"I hate you," he breathes, his stomach muscles burning. He tries to lift up on his elbows but finds himself trapped under the weight of Harry's body. He pretends it doesn't make his skin flush.
Harry shows no intention of moving, eyes flicking down to Louis' lips, so close Louis could count his eyelashes. A loose strand of hair hangs down the side of his face, his cock a firm line pressing into Louis' thigh.
"Do you mind?" Louis' impatient sigh loses some credibility when his voice wavers under Harry's gaze.
Harry exhales a soft laugh, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "Sorry, got a bit carried away." He rolls to the side, folding his bare feet underneath himself as he sits up, inevitably stringing Louis along. "For someone as bitchy as you are, you're terribly alluring."
Louis' pulse stutters at the words.
"I'm actually straight," he says, looking away, "so you can stop with those lame lines." He attempts to cross his arms over his chest before realizing he can't and settling for drawing his knees up.
"Oh."
Louis flexes his jaw as he stares at the chipped corner of the coffee table and taps his foot against the floor, the tension steadily rising with each minute that passes without a way to get out of the situation.
"Sorry," Harry says for what must be the hundredth time. "I could’ve sworn –"
"Just because you're gay doesn't mean everyone is," Louis snaps.
"I'm actually pansexual."
"Ugh."
"You have a problem with that?"
"No. Never mind."
"Come on now. What is it?"
"I just... It's ridiculous. Suddenly there's, like, fifteen different types of sexuality."
The silence that follows prompts Louis to look up.
Harry's eyebrows are drawn tight, mouth set in a line and eyes a dark stormy green radiating an amount of anger Louis wouldn't have thought him capable of. "So you're a homophobe."
"I'm not a homophobe, for fuck’s sake." He doesn't have to explain himself. Why are they even talking about this? "I just think that there's no reason to put a label on everything. Everyone's sexuality is different, 'cause people are different and unique. There's no need to categorize it when you can just accept it for what it is."
All he gets in response is a sceptical huff.
***
Half an hour later, Harry's enthusiasm seems to have finally waned. He's made no further attempts at conversation after Louis' slip and has resorted to staring at the TV, the look in his eyes growing increasingly hollow with boredom.
Louis' just about to doze off when a shrill squeal breaks the silence.
"There it is," he grumbles, unfortunately well familiar with the sound.
"That's Jagger!" Harry's face lights up. "Wow, the walls really are thin."
"Your pet's name is Jagger?"
That's how Louis finds himself tiptoeing out of his flat barefoot and handcuffed so Harry can go feed his fucking guinea pig.
"Hurry up before someone-"
As if on cue the door across the hall creaks open, revealing an old lady with a hat and an umbrella hanging from her forearm. A scandalized gasp leaves her thin lips as her eyes zero in on the handcuffs between their wrists.
"Good morning," Harry greets with a polite smile as if nothing were amiss.
Her eyes widen and she fumbles to lock the door and storm off to the elevator without a word, her shoes clicking against the worn out tiles.
"Now that you've embarrassed me," Louis hisses into Harry's ear, fingers digging into his wrist, "can you hurry the fuck up and open the goddamn door?"
Harry continues to stare at the front door of his flat for a beat longer. "I don't have my keys."
Louis' forehead thuds against the wooden door. "Of course you don't." He takes a deep breath to keep himself from smacking him. "Couldn't have thought of that before you made me step into the public like this?"
"We'll have to get in through the balcony."
"I am not risking breaking my neck over a bloody guinea pig."
"How can you be so heartless? A tiny adorable creature is starving and you refuse to help it?"
"It's not my fault you're an idiot –"
A cough sounds from behind his back and he whips around to see a man in a suit rush by them.
He whacks Harry over the head for letting them bicker in the hallway. It's all his fault.
"Hey!"
Louis ignores his pout and tugs him back toward his own flat. "Get back inside for fuck's sake."
***
They do end up on the balcony but only so Louis can light up a desperately needed cigarette. Harry proceeds to cough and bat at the smoke coming his way with unnecessary, flourishing movements.
Louis' eyes flutter closed at the burn in his throat, his elbows resting on the metal fence, chips of paint sticking to his skin. He can already feel the nicotine soothing his nerves.
"Louis," Harry whines when he hears Jagger squeal again.
"I'm sure he's fine," Louis waves it off, exhaling a puff of smoke.
"You're endangering my health with second hand smoking. The least you could do to repent that is let me feed my pet."
Louis takes another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he flicks off the ashes. He hums to himself, a random tune to display just how much he doesn't care while he watches a sunbeam break through the thick cluster of clouds hanging above the city.
"You're such an arsehole, honestly."
"Don't be mean, Harold, it doesn't suit you."
He barely registers Harry's hand move before it plucks the cigarette from between his lips.
"What the f –"
"Enough." His tone makes Louis flinch. "I'm done standing here watching you poison yourself." He squashes it against the railing and flicks it to the ground. "Get back inside and call your friend again. I don't fancy being stuck with you much longer."
He turns on his heel and drags Louis along as he crosses the threshold to the living room. Louis' too stunned by the sudden firmness in his voice to do much else than follow, his mouth agape and cock perking up of its own volition.
***
"There's someone at the door."
"I know."
"They seem persistent."
With a sigh, Louis braces himself for crossing the few steps to the front door. Harry is a constant presence behind him, a weight holding him back.
He flexes his toes over the ridges of the floorboards and taps his fingers against his thighs as he listens to the knocks get louder in accordance with the beats of his heart.
"Louis?" a muffled female voice travels through the wooden barrier.
"What's the worst thing that could happen?" Harry's low voice rasps into his ear, a parody of an encouragement, Louis thinks as he groans at the scenarios going through his head.
Chanting 'no' under his breath, he turns the lock and whips the door open, stretching his lips into an exaggerated smile.
"Mother," he greets, but her attention goes straight to Harry, along with another four pairs of eyes.
"Who's this then?" she asks, head tilted in confusion – yet tone cheerful – her lips curved
into a polite smile.
"Hiii," Harry drags out the word and Louis can hear the grin in his voice. "I'm Harry, Louis' friend. Nice to meet you."
It seems like all is going well until Louis feels his hand being tugged upward and realizes that Harry is waving, the metal handcuffs at full display.
He's going to murder him.
He snags his hand behind his back, but the damage has already been done.
"Louis?" His mother's expression shifts like thunder out of clear sky. "What is this?"
"What are those?" Phoebe chirps from where she's half-hidden behind her mother's skirt, blue eyes opened wide in fearful curiosity.
Louis pinches Harry's wrist in retaliation before exhaling a nervous laugh. "It's a long story. Why don't you come in?"
He crouches to hug his little sisters one by one, complimenting their outfits and matching braids while their small bony arms wrap around his neck, exclaiming high-pitched happy birthdays into his ear. Harry answers their questioning glances with wide smiles and high fives and soon they're running off into the living room to cause mayhem amongst Louis' scattered textbooks.
When he dares to look up, he finds his mother still standing by the door, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Would you like some tea or –"
"I would like an explanation."
He sighs. "Niall pulled a prank on us, that's all. We don't have the key yet, so..." He forces a smile. "Poor Harry's stuck with us today, I suppose."
"Still so immature." She shakes her head in disappointment, pursing her lips. "I don't know what to do with you." The sceptical turn of her mouth doesn't fade away, but she doesn't pry again as she walks over to the living room where the girls are chasing each other around the couch.
Louis' nails dig into his palms, his insides twisting in anxiety. He can feel Harry's eyes on him.
Lack of personal space has never felt more suffocating. He doesn't want Harry, or anyone else for that matter, to see this side of him, the Louis that bows his head in defeat.
"All right?" Harry asks quietly, a slightest frown etched between his brows. His thumb presses gently into the hollow of Louis' wrist.
His knees feel weak with the sudden urge to melt into the touch, to let someone else support his weight while he gives in to the exhaustion, before he remembers that Harry is nothing but a stranger, despite being plastered to his side so diligently it messes with his subconscious.
"Just fine," he grimaces and leads the way to where his family is waiting.
***
Harry is brilliant with kids, which is something Louis never needed to know.
He sits on the floor cross-legged telling a story he makes up as he goes with both sets of twins sitting still in front of him and drinking the words in, enthralled. Louis doesn't deal well with not being the centre of attention, especially on his birthday, but as his headache escalates to a pounding that makes it difficult to keep his eyes open, he's perfectly fine with letting Harry take over.
When pizza arrives, the level of noise doubles. Louis can't do much else than trust Harry to coax the girls into taking their seats at the table and eating with minimal ruckus while he leans on his elbows with his eyes closed, trying to breathe evenly through the nausea rearing its head at the smell of food. He startles when he feels a hand on the back of his neck. He looks up at Harry with bleary eyes to find him smiling softly as his fingers dig into Louis' flesh, strong and deft as they massage the sore muscles.
"I still hate you," he mutters lowly, but lets his eyes flutter closed, the sensation too soothing to resist.
His head snaps up at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
His mother stands in the doorway, back from the kitchen with a glass of water in hand, eyeing them distrustfully.
Louis pulls away as much as he can, leaning in to ruffle Daisy's hair to distract himself from the tension cutting through the air. He knows the look in his mother's eyes, the fear that he's something he doesn't dare to admit. And though the handcuffs aren't the result of a gay fuckfest as she's probably suspecting, she's still right, no matter how much he wishes she weren't.
He curls into himself under her steady gaze, tugging his sleeves over his wrists, the fabric catching on the metal ring turning his skin red.
He doesn't touch his slice, just stares numbly at the cheese melting down on the paper plate.
"You're quiet today," his mother comments after she sits down, cutting up her slice into smaller pieces with an actual knife and fork.
"Just tired. Sorry."
"Celebrating last night?" She smiles tightly.
"Yeah." He nods, fiddling with his napkin. "With Niall and Liam."
"And Harry, too, obviously. How did you two meet? You've never mentioned him before."
He grits his teeth. "He lives next door."
"Does he?" Her eyes flit over to Harry, lingering on his clothes until Louis feels his cheeks burning, painfully aware of the thoughts going through her head.
"Yep," Harry replies. "Truly a pleasure, having Lou so near. Always ready to lend a hand." He smirks to emphasize the innuendo, ignoring the kick in the shin he receives from a horrified Louis. "You've raised him well."
Louis can only watch the colour drain from his mother's face. He finds it strangely satisfying, even as he plots Harry's murder, curling his hands into fists.
He slaps Harry's hand away when it attempts to settle on his knee under the table.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hisses later while his mother is busy cleaning Fizzy up after she spills orange juice all over the front of her shirt.
"Couldn't resist, sorry," Harry whispers back. "Did you see the way she was looking at me?" He narrows his eyes as he watches her berate Fizzy, slamming her glass back on the table with unnecessary force. "And the way she was talking to you. I know it's not my place, but I can't just listen to that calmly."
A misplaced hint of gratitude clenches Louis' chest. He bats it away before it grows into something sillier.
"What are you two whispering about?" His mother straightens up, her eyes burning behind the smiling mask she wears.
Louis doesn't dignify her with a response.
***
While the girls are engrossed in a cartoon, Louis uses the opportunity to sneak out for a smoke. Well, 'sneak out' might not be an appropriate term since it's hard to go unnoticed while dragging a multi-coloured giant along.
"So, not really straight, are you?" Harry asks after Louis slides the glass doors closed behind them and fishes the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
He says nothing as he lights up and stares at the cars zooming past below them.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Obviously not," he snorts through a puff of smoke. "But thanks for offering your amateur therapy services."
"I'll have you know I'm an expert, being a dog stylist and all. It's practically in my job description."
"What, curing Chihuahuas’ obsessive compulsive disorders?"
"Among other things, yes." He nods seriously, leaning against the railing so their elbows are touching.
Jagger's squeal reaches them through the balcony doors of Harry's flat.
"It takes some knowledge of how their mind works to get them to sit still for long enough to make them look fabulous."
"Makes sense."
"Ouch, you must really be down if you're agreeing with me."
Rain begins to drizzle, a soft patter that could lull someone into a sleep.
"Seriously, though," Harry continues, voice getting lower, "I'm sorry for causing trouble between you and your mum."
"It's not your fault," Louis argues, exhaling another cloud of smoke and watching it rise in swirls. "Don't be silly."
"Is she always so... strict?"
"Only when she suspects me of sucking dick." He laughs humourlessly, flicking the cigarette butt down onto the street. "Really, we get along well. We're pretty close, actually. She's just a bit... traditional... when it comes to that." He shrugs like it doesn't matter and turns to go back inside.
Harry's fingers curl around his wrist to stop him.
"If that's the case," he whispers, his lips just a breath away from Louis' temple, "you should be honest with her. I'm sure she would accept it eventually."
"It's not that simple," Louis replies without looking up. "But thank you."
***
Later when Daisy's dozing in his lap having tired herself out, Harry's words are all he can think about. He can feel him looking at him from where he's sitting by his side as Louis threads his fingers through Daisy's silky hair, her head resting against his chest. The warm weight of her is comforting.
He's acutely aware of the fact that Harry, who he's only actually met a few hours ago, now knows what he can hardly bear to admit to himself at times. He doesn't know what to do with how vulnerable it makes him feel.
His mum is still seething, he can tell, her lips pursed as she watches Harry interact with the rest of Louis' siblings, gaining their sympathies effortlessly. Louis' chest feels tight, skin tingling with pinpricks of anxiety. An irrational fear of her walking out of his life the way his father had all those years ago still grips him whenever her kindness turns into this distant resentment he can never quite understand.
He tells himself it doesn't matter. When the day is done she'll go back to pretending he's normal and she never noticed a thing. He doesn't need her to know.
His hands tremble when he clutches Daisy closer, bowing his head and inhaling the sweet smell of her hair. He listens to her quiet breaths and assures himself he already has more than enough to be grateful for.
But as he looks up and their eyes meet, his mum's features soften and just for a moment he thinks that he could be alright with telling her the truth. Maybe not today, but someday.
***
The flat feels too empty and quiet when the door clicks closed and Harry and Louis are left standing by the coat hanger alone.
"Well, that wasn't a complete train wreck," Louis sighs, unsure what to do with his hands. He's too aware of the closeness of Harry's body, of his knowing eyes. "Despite your best efforts to ruin my life."
"What can I say," he grins like the arsehole he is, "I love watching you squirm."
He takes a step closer, crowding Louis against the wall.
"What do you think you're doing?" Louis' heart thumps against his ribcage so hard he wouldn't be surprised if Harry could actually see it. He wants to punch him for making him feel like he's being spun in a washing machine.
"Nothing at all," he breathes, his parted lips glistening, drawing Louis' attention like a swinging pendulum. "You're staring at my mouth."
"I'm not," Louis is quick to deny, dragging his eyes away only to be sucked into the vortex that are Harry's vividly green eyes.
"If you say so," he smirks and pulls away. Louis refuses to feel disappointed.
He leads the way into the bathroom and Louis has no choice but to follow, his brow furrowing. "Where are you going?"
"Need a wee," Harry explains.
Oh.
Louis is determined to zone out and spare himself the sight of Harry's cock for the sake of his sanity. Harry seems to have other plans.
"Buckle up," he teases, taking Louis' hand and laying it on his lower stomach.
Louis can't suppress the gasp that escapes him when his fingers come into contact with bare skin where Harry's top rides up. It's warm and smooth, makes him stay put despite the initial instinct to move his hand away.
He presses his hand harder into Harry's flesh to resist the tug of the handcuffs when Harry moves to pull his leggings down. Harry hisses at the pressure, leans back into him like he can't help it.
Louis breathes into the side of Harry's neck with nowhere to go to escape him. He strains to keep the breath of space between the lines of their bodies, refusing to look past his shoulder.
"I'm starting to wonder if I have a watersports kink," Harry shares over the sound of him relieving himself.
Louis snorts out a laugh, hiding his flaming face into Harry's neck. He's glad he's not the only one getting worked up over being in this awkward situation again.
"Aren't you hungry?" Harry asks as he soaps up his hands. Louis finds himself entranced once again by the size of them. "You haven't eaten all day. I could fix us something up real quick."
"There's literally nothing edible in this flat," Louis informs him, suppressing a smile that tugs at his lips when their eyes meet in the mirror. "Either way, I doubt I could keep anything down."
"Still hungover?" He pouts in sympathy. "Wanna lie down?"
That's how they find themselves snuggled under a blanket on Louis' couch. He's too tired to even question it.
"I think I've gotten used to having you around," Harry muses as he settles on his side facing Louis. "I might miss you when we're freed."
Louis snorts like he finds the notion silly despite the swoop in his stomach. He lets his eyelids drop, willing the feeling to go away.
When he blinks his eyes open, head fuzzy with sleep, the first thing that comes into focus are Harry's lips, plump and tempting and so near. Without thought, he drags his leg higher where it's already slung over Harry's thigh.
Harry's lips part on a sharp inhale.
"Been watching me sleep?" he rasps.
Harry's eyes follow his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips.
"It's not like I have a choice," he defends himself, rattling the handcuffs to emphasize his point.
"Yeah, I don't think that's it," Louis teases. He doesn't move his leg away though a small rational part of his brain is screaming at him to do so. Every point of contact between them is searing his flesh.
He watches Harry's curls splayed over the throw pillow, his hand curled into a fist between them like he's restraining himself. A flame burns behind his gaze, his lip caught between his teeth.
His clothes feel too warm, too tight against his skin. His fingers twitch where they lie next to Harry's.
Their eyes meet, hesitant and overwhelmed, only to flit away again.
Louis doesn't feel in control of his limbs when his leg tightens around Harry's hip, pulling him in. Something snaps in Harry's eyes at the motion and it's with unprecedented determination that he lowers his hand to curl it possessively around Louis' thigh.
Louis' breath hitches, whole body thrumming with anticipation.
Harry's hand slides up until it's cupping Louis' arse, squeezing and kneading at the flesh. A low moan sounds from Louis' throat, his body tingling under the attention. He feels his skin flush all over when his cock rubs against Harry's stomach through the fabric.
"Want it so bad, don't you?" Harry taunts, barely louder than a whisper. His lips linger a breath away from Louis', moving out of reach whenever he surges forward.
He growls in frustration, attempts to lift his hand to grab the back of Harry's neck to hold him still but the chain doesn't let him get too far. He settles for holding onto Harry's forearm, nails digging into the skin.
"You're the one to talk," he mocks, watching the way Harry's chest heaves with desperate breaths when their hips roll against each other.
He merely grins in response, his lips an endless temptation. Louis is ready to stomp over his pride just for a taste.
He leans in, feels Harry's breath on his lips as he parts them, wets them with a tip of his tongue and–
A knock on the door stops them dead in their tracks.
They scramble up and to the front door, wrenching it open to find Liam standing there in his uniform looking like they're the last thing he wants to deal with at the end of his work day.
"You haven't killed each other," he notes before introducing himself to Harry. There are dark circles under his eyes from spending the night out with barely an hour to spare before heading to work.
"Took you fucking forever," Louis scoffs and goes to cross his arms over his chest until Harry's hand gets in the way. He's not sure why that gets him flustered, but Liam doesn't miss it. His eyes linger on their wrinkled clothes and disheveled hair, narrowing in suspicion.
"Shall we move this along?" Louis reminds him, extending his hand.
Liam fishes a key out of his pocket and reaches for the handcuffs, frowning in annoyance. "I can't believe who I'm friends with."
"Neither can I," Louis grumbles while Liam twists the key. "You left me like this all day. On my birthday."
"Doesn't look like you minded all that much."
The lock clicks open and Louis is finally free to lift his hand and whack Liam over the head.
"That's what I get for saving your immature arse?"
"Fine," Louis rolls his eyes. "Thank you, Li," he says with as much sarcasm as he can muster, lifting on his toes to peck his cheek. "You're free to go now."
He glances over at Harry who's rubbing at his chafed wrist, a slight crease between his brows.
Liam grumbles as he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand before turning on his heel and making his way to the elevator.
"I guess I should go, too." Louis startles when Harry pushes past him, lingering in the doorway for just one more moment, a tight smile on his lips. "I'll see you around, Lou."
Louis watches him silently as he makes the few steps toward his flat before realization dawns on his face. "Have to use the balcony," he chuckles to himself as he reenters Louis' flat and walks swiftly through the living room like he can't get out soon enough.
A sinking feeling weighs on Louis' stomach after Harry swings his legs over the metal railing with one last glance thrown Louis' way.
He sighs when he finds himself alone again. He looks around like he expects a sign to pop out telling him what to do now that he's free. It's what he'd wanted, isn't it?
He feels self-conscious though he knows no one is there to see him fumbling with his limbs like he doesn't know where they belong. He hears Jagger's excited squeal through the wall and the deep rumble of Harry's voice cooing in response. He groans when it only serves to amplify the restlessness he feels.
It's not like he expected Harry to stay and finish what they started. It's not like he wants him. It was just a side-effect of the circumstances, he tells himself as he paces back and forth, rolling his aching wrist in an attempt to shake off the stiffness.
He lies to himself for another half an hour before his resolution breaks.
A smirk graces Harry's lips when he opens the door. "Yes?" He leans against the doorway, a towel hanging low from his hips, his damp hair curling over his shoulders.
"Is it really possible to get those abs from doing yoga?"
"Is that what you came here to ask?"
Louis takes a deep breath to clear his head and meets his eyes. "I, uh..."
"Eloquent." Harry's grin grows wider when Louis gives him a pointed stare. "Come in," he relents, stepping out of the way.
Louis isn't surprised to find his flat rich with details where his own houses only the necessities. There are motivational posters and decorative stickers glued to the walls, flowers lining the window pane and old records stacked under the antique coffee table. A yoga mat is rolled up by the balcony door and next to it is a three-stories high wooden guinea pig cage, painted white and engraved with swirling decorations. Louis can see a little ball of fur munching on hay in the corner of the bottom floor.
Despite the amount of stuff crowded into the confined space, there's a sense of order, with everything sitting neatly in its place, forming a balanced design that would fit right into the pages of a home decor magazine.
He turns back to Harry, eyes dropping straight to his lips. "So the thing is..."
Harry walks closer until they're almost flush together and Louis has to tip his head back to look at him. His stomach flutters at the proximity, his fingers twitching at his sides.
"You missed me," Harry says with complete assurance and undisguised glee. There are droplets
of water sticking his eyelashes together, making them look darker and accentuating his piercing eyes.
"You're so in love with yourself," Louis accuses him, feigning contempt to mask the shakiness he feels spreading down to his knees.
"Can you blame me?" He licks his lips, too slowly for it to be innocent.
"You're insufferable," Louis breathes as he lays his hands on Harry's chest, hoping he doesn't notice them trembling. "Arrogant." His skin feels like fire under his fingertips. "Irritating."
He holds onto the back of his neck as he lifts on his toes, his lips parting on shuddering breaths. "Self-centered." Harry's lips are slick and soft under his when they meet, warm and inviting. His eyes slip closed, his body melting into Harry's when he feels his grip on his hips. "Tease." He swipes his tongue over Harry's lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, reveling in Harry's responding moan. "Trouble-maker," he whispers when he pulls away for breath only to dive back in for another kiss, feeling Harry's lips stretch into a grin.
Harry's lips never leave him as he steers them in the direction of the bedroom. They move together with ease until Louis' back hits the mattress, Harry settling between his open knees.
Louis blinks at the ceiling while Harry's hands ruck up his shirt, dumbfounded by the fact that he's somehow found himself at the other side of the wall. "So this is where the magic happens," he muses.
Harry's cheeks are tinted pink when he lifts his head to look at him. "You make it sound like I'm a sex addict or something."
"Never mind me." He drops his head back into the fluffy pillow and lets his eyes slip shut when he feels Harry's tongue tracing a path up his chest. "My perception is skewed by a lengthy dry spell."
"We'll have to remedy that, won't we?" His lips close around Louis' nipple, the warm wet suction making him curse and tangle his fingers into Harry's hair.
Harry takes his time exploring every inch of Louis' body, tracing his skin with his lips and discovering the spots that make him gasp and arch into his touch. Louis' heart is hammering by the time he's stripped naked. He can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingertips, his hands trembling with the force of it.
It's not what he's used to. There's no rush, no fear of getting caught in the act. No chase for a quick relief just for the sake of it.
There's warmth in Harry's gaze when their eyes meet. Louis feels vulnerable under it, like he's given away all control, but he can't stop.
"God, what a day," Harry chuckles as he unwraps the towel from around his waist and tosses it somewhere behind his back, revealing his thick cock.
"Are we having small-talk during sex?" Louis asks even as his mouth waters at the sight of him.
"Like an old married couple," Harry grins. His dimples have butterflies swarming Louis' insides.
He doesn't know if this is a one time thing. He doesn't know if he wants it to be. Harry is a stranger still, though he feels like more than that.
"I'm confused," Louis declares out loud, throwing his arms into the air for added dramatics.
Harry snorts out a laugh where he's rummaging through a drawer, his eyes twinkling with mirth that warms Louis' chest. He sits up, a condom and a bottle of lube in hand. "I'm listening," he says like they're not both naked and hard.
"Is this, like, a thing now?"
Harry leans down to slide his lips over Louis'. "I like you, if that's what you're asking."
"Okay," Louis replies as flatly as he can just to be a shit. "Now get a move on before I go soft, idiot."
Harry pouts before his lips give in to a fond smile.
"What do you want?" he asks, lowering onto his elbows over Louis, his lips finding the sensitive skin of his neck. Their cocks brush, Louis' hips canting up to chase the sensation.
"Everything," Louis answers, dragging his fingertips slowly down Harry's back, watching the shivers ripple through him in response.
"I'm fine with that," Harry agrees a little breathlessly. "We've got time."
"But most of all," Louis continues, taunting him with slow thrusts of his hips. "I really, really want you to fuck me."
He hears Harry's breath hitch. "Yeah," he breathes, "could do that."
He sits up on his heels to grab the bottle of lube he'd dropped somewhere on the bed. Louis gets a better look as he clicks it open. "Is that –"
"Glittery lube?" Harry grins. "Yep."
"You're ridiculous."
"It'll look brilliant on you. That perfect arse sparkling."
"Idiot."
Every insult only seems to brighten Harry's smile. He leans down to kiss him again and Louis thinks he could get used to this.
He gasps when a slick finger circles his rim. Harry's eyes remain locked on his as he hovers over him, tracking every reaction. Anticipation buzzes through Louis' muscles.
Harry's fingers slide in and out in long careful thrusts, reaching deeper and stretching wider until Louis' thighs are trembling around Harry's waist.
"Forgot how good that feels," he murmurs through heavy breaths.
Harry hums, licking a stripe over Louis' collarbone, teeth sinking into the flesh when he reaches his shoulder. Louis' fist tightens in his hair at the sting of pain.
He lifts his head to watch Louis' mouth fall open on a moan as he curls his fingers inside him, brushing over his prostate.
"Harry," he gasps, clutching onto his shoulders.
"Yeah?" His eyes are dark as they bore into him, lips curved into a smirk.
Though Louis' eyes threaten to slip closed under the overwhelming pleasure, he struggles to maintain eye contact and that has a whole new level of need coiling in his stomach.
"Fuck yes," he agrees, breaths stuttering as Harry's fingers rub over him insistently.
"Wanna eat you out later," Harry tells him, flicking his tongue over his lips like he's hungry for it. "When you're open and sensitive, messy from lube and my cum."
Louis groans at the words. He's never come untouched before but he feels like he might now. "You'd get glitter on your lips," he says, impressed with himself for managing to form a coherent sentence though his panting lessens the impression of unaffectedness.
"Like lip gloss," Harry says. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Louis hums, pushing his hips up into Harry's hand that has slowed down to a teasing rhythm.
"Bet you'd like me calling you daddy."
The thing is, Louis never understood the appeal of the word. Quite the opposite, in fact. He thought it rather creepy. Until now, apparently, because he shudders and comes all over his stomach.
"Oh my god," he whimpers, eyes squeezing shut for various reasons.
He reaches down to still Harry's hand, wincing in overstimulation.
"Wait," he pleads when Harry's fingers keep moving even after Louis' hand wraps around his wrist.
When he opens his eyes he finds Harry shaking his head and grinning like the Cheshire cat. He slips a fourth finger in.
"Harry, please," Louis gasps. "I can't –"
"Nope."
He feels like he's on fire. "Just give me a minute –"
"I'll give you a minute after you've come again."
He groans, trembling all over as he tries to get air into his lungs but it keeps getting punched out of him each time Harry presses into his prostate. He writhes, twisting away and into the touch at the same time.
Harry lifts up so that he can balance himself on his knees before curling his other hand around Louis' cock. It only takes a couple of tugs before Louis' spilling over his fingers with a shout.
His muscles keep twitching as he comes down, soft whimpers slipping from his lips after Harry withdraws his fingers.
"Fucking hell," he curses weakly, dazed eyes blinking up at Harry.
"Liked that?" Harry asks, looking far too pleased with himself for Louis' liking.
"Fuck off," Louis tells him though his chest is still heaving.
Harry chuckles, stroking Louis' sides in gentle soothing circles until his eyelids feel heavy. "Seriously, though, are you alright?" His voice has gone soft, doing all sorts of weird things to Louis' heart.
"Yeah," he exhales, feeling boneless as he melts into the mattress under Harry's touch. "More than alright."
He hisses when the head of Harry's cock pushes past his rim. No matter how slow and careful he goes, it still burns as he slides in deeper. His lips are a welcome distraction, trailing soft kisses up his jaw.
It seems to take forever until he finally bottoms out.
"Taking me so well," Harry praises quietly, pressing a kiss against Louis' temple. It feels so strangely intimate that the retort Louis had dies on his lips.
He's never felt so full. He swears he sees stars explode across his eyelids when Harry moves.
He notices Harry lowering his head to watch himself slide in and out of him.
"Am I sparkling?" He thinks he might be slurring his words, drunk on how good Harry feels in and around him.
"Like a diamond, babe." Harry's voice is reverent, eyes gentle and full of wonder when he looks up. He rolls his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, keeping his thrusts long and deep. "You feel so good," he groans, biceps bulging as he holds onto the headboard.
"Gonna feel even better when I'm inside you," Louis tells him before biting hard into his neck.
Harry groans louder. "Yes," he breathes, hips speeding up. "Can't wait... oh fuck, Louis..."
The mattress squeaks under them, the headboard thumping as it hits the wall with each forceful thrust of Harry's hips. It's a familiar sound and Louis feels dirty for the way it turns him on even more.
"So how about a date tomorrow?" Harry asks as he pants into Louis' ear.
Louis laughs so hard his stomach hurts and it only gets worse when Harry laughs as well, the sound so shrill he slaps a hand over his mouth.
"Can't say I've ever laughed with a cock up my arse before."
Harry laughs harder.
Louis fails to bite down the grin that overtakes his face, impossibly charmed by the ridiculous boy on top of him. "And yes, I suppose I wouldn't mind a date." Somehow the thought of being seen with a boy isn't as terrifying as it was a few hours ago.
Harry's eyes widen in surprise like he didn't really expect Louis to say yes. His smile shines like the sun.
It's clear to Louis now that he's far from the person Louis thought him to be. He's like a puppy in human form, excitable and good-natured, only feigning arrogance for the sake of banter.
It's like someone's flipped a switch, though, when he resumes fucking Louis with even more vigor, all teeth and bruising grips and eyes that make Louis tremble to the core.
Louis' throat feels raw after he comes for the third time. Harry follows with a grunt and a shudder and Louis almost wishes the condom wasn't there so he could feel him spilling inside him.
He trails his fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach, lifts them to Harry's swollen lips and watches his tongue lap it up without hesitation, his cheeks flushed and curls ruffled. He slumps against Louis' side as they catch their breaths, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin.
"That was pretty spectacular." His hand finds its way to Louis' arse again, squeezing his cheek possessively.
Louis hums in agreement, barely registering that he's inching closer until he's curled half on top of him. He's sated and sleepy and Harry's still touching him. He never wants to move again.
"I should go," he murmurs though his eyes are already closing.
"Don't," Harry tells him, kissing the corner of his lips. "Stay."
"Okay," he agrees immediately, making Harry chuckle.
"You're much nicer after coming," he notes, trailing his fingers up and down Louis' back. "Pliant and obedient. It gives me all kinds of ideas."
"Gonna have to borrow those handcuffs again, huh?"