Archive of Our Own ^beta

"LOUIS!" 

Harry was so done. One of them was fucking moving out.

From where he’d been smoking in the balcony, Louis sauntered inside, his expression relaxed. “What is it this time, Styles?”

He wanted to punch him. Instead, he threw the sock at his stupid pretty face. Louis only looked mildly repulsed at the stink coming from it.

“I was looking for the remote, because you always have to hide it, don't you? But guess what I got my hands on instead. A dirty, stinky sock. Why the fuck would you leave a used sock on the couch, Louis? I was about to lay down there!”

He was shouting, but hardly cared. It had been a long day. Harry was fucking knackered from his classes and double shift at work and all he wanted was a moment of peace watching some shit on the telly before he retired to bed. But of course, of fucking course his roommate couldn’t let him have even that tiny piece of heaven. Who the fuck left their dirty socks on the couch?

“Christ, mate. It’s barely two weeks old. Chill out.” Louis stuffed it into his pocket.

Harry’s eyes bulged out. He wanted to throw up. Or wash his hands at the very least.

"Louis, we've talked about this! We do not trash the common areas. Is it so hard for you to follow the rules? Is it so hard for you to take care of your own stuff?"

“Fuck’s sake, Harold. I must've forgotten it here. You’re making a deal out of a fucking sock.” Louis rolled his eyes. “Move out if you can’t adjust.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. The audacity of this guy! He fisted his hands, trying to slow down his breathing, trying not to flip out—

“Fuck you, Louis Tomlinson! If anyone’s moving out, it’s you! You’re only here because of me. The landlord didn’t want you, remember? I gave him my word that you won’t fuck it up. But you know what? I regret doing that every single day. You are the one who can't adjust. You are an insufferable asshole who has no regard for anyone. You don't even know how to look after yourself. You should be fucking thanking me for bearing with you for so long, you know? You're the worst fucking roommate ever!"

God, it felt good. He might have taken out all his frustration on him, and even overdid it a little, but Louis was so annoying he couldn't bring himself to feel bad. Besides, it felt good.

“Are you quite done?” Louis looked fed up with him, a bit mad even, when he had no fucking right to be. Harry wanted to push him up against the wall.

He stormed off to his room before he could act on his instinct.

Harry was an organised person, he was. Still, his possessions liked to get lost in the little space of his room more than often.

He cursed when he didn’t find his new t-shirt in even the sock drawer. He had upended the entire room but the item was nowhere to be found. Running his gaze over the mess he’d made over the stupid thing, he was ready to scream in frustration. Of course he had other clothes, but he didn’t wanna put together another outfit at the last minute. Also, because he was a pig-headed piece of shit, he wanted that shirt and that shirt only. Maybe, if he didn't find it, he won’t go at all—

No, he had to go, he’d swore to Niall he’d come. There wasn’t enough time for his dramatics. He needed to get going in less than ten minutes and he couldn’t find his clothes and he hadn’t even started on his hair and fuck, which pair of shoes was he gonna wear again?

He dropped to his knees and opened the bottom drawer, half his mind still trying to locate the lost tee. His hands picked his nice black boots almost subconsciously. He clearly remembered putting the new shirt in the wash last week, then bringing the load back to… did he bring it back to his room or left it in the bathroom while he was getting ready? He was running late that day, just like he was now.

The thought only made him panic more. He glanced at his watch and it was seven minutes to seven. He focused on tying his laces but was it his room or the bathroom? He didn’t have the time to remember, so he decided to go and check the bathroom first.

His heels clicked on the floor as he jogged towards the door at the end of the hallway and threw it open. A second later he remembered he was shirtless and had a roommate, but it was too late anyway.

“Forgot your manners, Styles?” Louis was standing in front of the toilet seat, tying up his sweats. Why was he still in his sweats? Wasn’t he supposed to be getting ready too? How did he look that good in sweats? Wait, no, no no no, he wasn’t letting Louis distract him right now.

Ignoring him, Harry looked around for a basket of clothes, probably stashed away somewhere. But there was nothing. Only pale white tiles that Harry tried his hardest to keep clean. For fuck’s sake, where was this thrice-damned t-shirt?!

“Are you lookin—”

“Shh, no, just- just shut up.” He turned and walked out of the bathroom, making vague gestures with his hand behind himself. He heard a ‘fucking rude’ muttered at him, but he didn’t care at the moment.

Back in his room, Harry stood with his hands on his hips and stared at his belongings. He must have put the basket somewhere in his haste, somewhere definitely in this room. But where? He had searched every corner, from his beloved wardrobe to… under the bed! He’d kicked it under the bed and out of the way last week, and hadn’t checked there yet. 

He didn’t waste any time getting on his knees and peeking under the bed. And there it was. With a grin, he pulled it out. The clothes on top were a little dirty again, but fortunately the shirt he wanted was buried deep. And that was a good thing, considering it was plain white, with only the outlines of dainty hands printed on it. He threw the rest of the clothes on a building pile on his bed and pulled the t-shirt on.

This time when he went to the bathroom, Louis wasn’t there. Harry didn’t give himself a chance to work out whether he was relieved or disappointed, just got to work on his curls.

He was done in the record time of five minutes, and didn’t look too bad considering how quick he had had to be. His hair was pushed back from his forehead and curled around his ears. His outfit was the classic combination of a white tee and black skinny jeans. The shower he'd taken before had made his skin look fresh, though all the hassle for the shirt resulted in a thin layer of oily perspiration on his nose and hairline. He dunked his face under water to treat that.

It was only three minutes past seven when he stalked to the door of the apartment, stuffing his phone and wallet in his pockets. He figured, as he picked up his keys, that he could make it down to the pub in ten, and that wasn’t too late. Only Niall would’ve made it there by now.

Harry was pulling the door open when Louis called from behind.

“Hey, Styles.”

With one hand still on the doorknob, he turned to face him. If Louis was gonna ask him to wait for him, then he might as well not ask because Harry wasn’t waiting for the princess to get ready and then to spend all that torturous time walking with him. But the sight before him was something else entirely.

Louis was strutting over to him, and he was dressed up. He’d not just gotten ready in less than ten minutes, he’d managed to look delectable in under ten minutes. He was wearing a deep maroon shirt under a black denim jacket, and black ankle-length jeans that looked painted on his shapely legs, with a pair of white vans on his cute little feet. Harry might or might not had had to bite the inside of his cheek to resist turning him around and ogling his perfect ass. His hair was still a mess like it had been in the bathroom, but somehow it looked artful now. The boy himself looked like art now.

He was rolling his jacket sleeve up his arm as he walked, revealing the sun-kissed skin of his arms. The action was so hot, and so was the way Louis’ eyes dragged down Harry’s form and his chin slowly tilted up in confidence. Harry was sure his lips were parted a little inappropriately, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

Not until Louis came right up to him, and walked straight out of the door mumbling a ‘thanks, mate’, without another glance in his direction.

The sweet, familiar scent of vanilla filled his nostrils as he breathed in to collect his senses, and he had to physically shake his head to snap out of it. 

Louis Tomlinson had just insulted him. Even though he looked like a prince, Harry was not his fucking butler who held doors open for him and wasn't worth a second look, and he would not be treated like one. It was partly his fault to be stunned by Louis, to develop a stupid crush on the guy who hated him the most. But no, he will not stand this slander.

Eyes narrowing as he tried to come up with a rebuttal, he carefully locked the door behind him. He'd get his revenge when they met at the pub.

Only, Louis was still here. The elevator doors were wide open, one of Louis' hands stopping them from closing while he scrolled his phone with the other one. He wasn't… he couldn't be holding the elevator for Harry, could he? Oh god, how long had he been doing that? There were other people in the building too!

Harry rushed inside, and Louis followed without looking up from his phone. Maybe he had been holding it for Harry. But neither of them acknowledged it. Louis kept texting someone the entire ride, lips curling up at the corners because Harry’s eyes refused to look anywhere else.

As they started for the pub, neither of them bothered to make conversation. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. It usually ended up in them snapping and trying to out-sass each other. The tiny bit of getting along was just for the sake of being functioning roommates. That came in the form of rare acts of kindness they did, like Louis holding the elevator for him.

A year and two months ago, when Liam had asked for help on behalf of a friend of a friend, Harry hadn’t anticipated this was what his life would come to. Apparently, this friend of a friend needed a new place urgently, and Harry, with his old roommate having moved out recently, had been happy to help. Treat people with kindness and all that.

The first time they’d met had been at the flat itself, when Liam had brought Louis to show it to him, Zayn in tow. Harry remembered his heart skipping a beat when his eyes first landed on Louis. Remembered being excited when Louis said yes to living with him. Because that guy, and to have the chance to share a place with him all day every day for at least six months, was the sweetest reward he’d ever gotten for his helpfulness.

But he hadn’t anticipated that it would be so hard. That, for reasons still unknown to him, Louis wouldn’t like him, and on top of that try to get on Harry’s nerves every chance he got. That he’d be living with the prettiest person he’d ever seen, would be pathetically crushing on him even after all this time, and the said boy wouldn’t even give him the time of the day.

It hurt if he thought too much about it. So he tried not to.

They reached the pub in painful silence. It was Niall who finally broke it, waving them over to his booth with a shout. With that shout, the tension left Harry’s body. It was easier with people around to distract him from Louis. 

As they neared the rounded booth, he was surprised to see Zayn there, sitting in the middle. He was usually the last one to show up. Him and Liam.

“Nialler!” Louis slid in beside Niall, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “How’s my favourite Irish?”

Harry settled in opposite the blond boy, who grinned wide. “I’m mad, Tommo. What took you so long?”

“It’s not easy possessing all this beauty, mate.” Louis sighed like he was tired, making Zayn snort. Harry internally agreed. It truly couldn't be easy, he was in awe of Louis.

Niall laughed. “Who you doing it for today, princess of Yorkshire?” 

Louis hummed, made a show of assessing the crowd. “We’ll find something worthy.”

And that was Harry’s cue to tune out. It was why he didn’t like going out with the boys too much. Having to watch Louis pull guys, and then go home where they were doing the dirty in the room across his, left every last bit of him aching.

He'd also had to share his breakfast with too many random guys.

"So," He turned to Zayn. "You done with the creative writing assignment?"

Zayn played with one of the dirty coasters, making it spin on the equally dirty table. “I think I know what I want to write about. But I’ll be honest with you, mate, I’ll have to be at least as high as my apartment building to actually work on it.”

Harry grinned. The way he saw it, Zayn was a balm for the pain in the arse that was Louis. His writing was like no other, and Harry always looked forward to getting to read it. It was a privilege, you see, the boy wrote a lot but only ever shared it if the professors explicitly asked them to. His writing process was also unique. Not everyone was talented enough to do assignments while high, after all.

“It’s due on Monday. You remember that, right?”

“Sure, man. It’s just one poem.” Zayn flattened his hand on the coaster. “What about you, you finish it yet?”

“Jesus, lads,” Niall huffed before Harry could answer. “It’s a night out and you’re talking about old Wankworth.”

“Heyyy,” Harry drawled out, offended. Mrs. Dankworth was one of his favourite professors, and he was one of her favourite students. They were on a first name basis already. “She is great! And will you stop calling her that, it’s getting old.”

There was a very familiar haughty scoff. Harry raised an eyebrow at Louis.

"Doesn't it hurt?" He asked, directly addressing Harry for the first time since they set out. "Having a stick up your ass all the damn time?"

Harry fisted his hands. He'd quite like to stick something else up someone else's ass. He was about to retort when Liam popped up beside him.

“Drinks, boys!” He announced happily, putting five glasses down on the table. “Oh great, you both are here too. I got you your usual, just in case.”

“Wankworth is literally her official name at this point, mate.” Niall said over the commotion of everyone grabbing their glasses. Harry let Liam sit next to Zayn, because it was better than being stuck between them the entire night. It meant that he was now directly across from Louis, but oh well.

Liam made a face that had nothing to do with the bitter drink he’d just swallowed. “Why are we talking about her?”

“Harry started it.” Niall waved an accusing finger at him. “Payno, you tell me. Is Wankworth getting old?”

“The woman or the joke?”

“The joke, shithead.”

Liam shrugged, smiled at Zayn. “It’s as old as the woman, I’d say.”

Zayn’s eyes shone at him like Liam had just made an astonishingly witty remark. Harry rolled his eyes at the same time as Louis, before catching himself.

“See?” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “I told you it’s—”

“Harry, mate, I’m sorry,” Liam interrupted. “It’s old but it’s, like, a thing in our uni.”

“Wha—” He turned back to the brunette, the look of offence so deep on his face that it made Liam sheepish. Niall cackled in the background, calling it a gift from the alumni. “But why? No one even laughs at it anymore!”

In his opinion, the students needed to let the woman live in peace. They saw her only as a strict teacher, but she was a person too. In fact, she only had a couple of years left before her retirement. He wanted her to have happy memories of the place she’d spent all her life teaching at.

“Only you do that, Geek Lord,” Louis muttered around his glass of beer. 

But Harry didn’t miss it. He glared at his roommate. “Yeah, because I don’t want to be rude like so many people I know.”

“Fucking hell, Harold.” Louis shook his head like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. "You know, if I'd known you, I'd never have moved in with you."

He was talking? Him and Zayn got themselves kicked out of their old flat for being a bad influence on the kids in the building. He should thank Harry for giving him a place to stay.

"If I'd known you, Tomlinson, I never would've offered in the first place." No stinky socks on the sofa. Bliss.

“Christ on a stick,” Niall slammed his suddenly empty glass on the table, scowling at the two of them. “Stop fighting like an old couple who refuses to get a divorce! Or, I dunno, get a bloody divorce.”

Louis scoffed loudly and looked away, and Harry wished he could pull off indignation as perfectly as the boy opposite him.

The lads steered the conversation to non-geeky and uncontroversial topics. They guzzled down multiple glasses of liquor and filled the space with carefree, boyish laughter. All the while, Harry tried to ignore his roommate’s existence. But his eyes kept straying to him every few minutes, like he needed to make sure Louis was still in front of him. The dim lights washed his face in a golden glow, cast his hooded eyes in the shadows, emphasised how his eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. Harry could hardly blame himself, Louis looked like an angel falling from grace.

On one of these sneaky glances, Harry saw the look. And he knew that look. Louis was trying to spot someone worth going home with. He could even tell when he found that someone. 

Just like he’d thought he would, Louis straightened in his seat. “All right, lads. I think I’m gonna dance for a while.”

It was like his code word, and everybody knew. Niall cheered him on and Zayn wished him luck. Smirking, Louis grabbed his jacket with dainty hands. Buzzed as he was, Harry couldn’t tear his gaze from his collarbones moving mesmerizingly under his skin as he shrugged it off his shoulders. 

Louis must’ve sensed him staring, because his eyes narrowed. Harry had to physically turn away while he dropped the jacket on his seat and slipped into the crowd.

One round later, Zayn and Liam were snogging in the corner, and despite all his protests, Niall dragged Harry to the dancefloor. But once he was there, Harry let loose. The alcohol was setting in, and he told himself he was here to enjoy the night with his friends. He shouldn’t let the pretty boy with the magical blue eyes who was dancing somewhere around them stop him from having fun, right? Right. 

So they danced together for a while, trying to see who could pull the silliest moves. Most of it was just bumping into each other and everyone near them, and laughing too loud afterwards. Harry was attempting a twerk when a girl with long brunette hair squeezed herself between them. Her arms wrapped around Niall’s neck, who smiled at Harry apologetically. Harry just shrugged him off with a dopey smile. Niall was probably getting laid tonight. Niall deserved to get laid tonight.

The two of them got lost in the mass of people, but Harry was drunk enough to happily dance alone. He could feel the beats in his chest and he kept bouncing to them, raising his arms above his head and belting out lyrics to the few songs he recognised.

Out of nowhere, a smaller, warmer body plastered itself to his front. The scent of vanilla broke through the stink of sweat like a ray of sunshine through a stormy sky. Harry froze, his hands instinctively finding the other person’s hips. The lights were so low here that he could hardly see him, but there was no doubt in his hazy brain as to who it was.

Louis. With his back pressed snugly to Harry’s chest, with his head full of messy, soft hair tipped back, with his hands covering Harry’s and his bum rubbing directly against Harry’s crotch, it was Louis. 

Harry was frozen in his spot, but Louis kept moving with the music. He was too confused for how intoxicated he was. What was Louis doing? Why was he doing this? Didn’t they just have a quarrel? Did he realise it was Harry he was dancing with?

If he’d been sober, he’d have pushed him away and demanded answers. But he wasn’t, he so wasn’t and he pulled him closer instead. Louis must’ve been so not sober too, because he came easily. He dropped his head on Harry’s shoulder. One of his hands came up to cup his face blindly and tug him in further.

Harry had been out of breath from all the dancing, but now he was breathing hard for an entirely different reason. He’d only ever been this close to Louis in his dreams. A big part of him still thought this must be one of those dreams, because Louis’ body against his felt unreal. The way he was moving was so sensuous, and Harry wanted more. He wanted to run his hands all over to feel him. Wanted to wrap his arms around him to press closer, so much closer.

Just as suddenly as he'd appeared, Louis turned around. Harry was stunned by how dark and blown out his eyes were.

Louis grabbed him by the back of his neck, and pulled him in until his lips were pressed against Harry’s ear. “Don’t be back too soon. Conner and I might need a couple of hours.” 

It was like he'd stabbed Harry in the gut, and killed all the butterflies. Harry couldn’t do anything as Louis pulled away from his grip. His smirking face disappeared among the swarm of bodies.

Harry turned on his heel, heading in the opposite direction. Louis' words echoed in his head as he shuffled to the bathroom. He didn't know why Louis had done all that just to tell him he was going home with someone. He only knew that he was gonna throw up.

So after a nasty visit to a nasty bathroom, Harry trudged to the bar, keeping his eyes low. He sat down on one of the stools, asked for water, stared determinedly at the bar top because now he couldn’t even look at Louis walk out of the door with another guy’s arm wrapped around his waist.

Like Louis had asked, Harry didn’t go back. Not until three hours later.

He stayed at the bar, long after the rest of the lads had left too, although he’d lost the thirst. He truly didn’t want to walk in on something he won’t be able to handle. He’d rather stay here, nurse his hour-old gin, watch random people dance, and turn them down when they asked him to join. The bartenders took pity on him, and let him sulk in peace.

But when he did reach home, clear-headed as ever, it was not to what he expected.

From where he was taking off his shoes, he could see Louis sprawled out on the couch, fully clothed. His head was tilted back awkwardly. The dim light from the lamp washed his skin in gold, and highlighted the angles of his face.

Maybe Conner and him didn’t need all that time, after all. Harry pushed the thought away and ignored the sick pleasure that the sight gave him. It was none of his business.

His legs carried him over to the sleeping boy without him meaning to. Up close, Harry could see his parted lips and the peacefulness on his face in sleep. He still had his shoes on. And that must be uncomfortable.

Getting down on his knees in front of Louis, he slowly untied the laces of his left shoe. He tried his best not to jostle him too much as he lifted his leg to pull the shoe off. Surprisingly, Louis’ feet didn’t stink.

He was working on the other laces when a rustling sound came from above him. 

"’arry?" Louis slurred out, squinting down at him. 

Once again that night, Harry froze, laces still in hand. He waited for a shrill shout, waited to be pushed away. But neither came. When he dared to look up, Louis had wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes were threatening to shut, but he was fighting sleep to watch Harry.

Swallowing dryly, Harry got back to work. He didn’t know what he could even say to him. The whole night had been so weird.

This time when he went to remove the shoe, Louis cooperated. Or at least tried to. He pulled down his socks too, because for some reason, he knew Louis didn’t like to sleep with them on. Once his feet were free, he sighed appreciatively, wiggling his toes a little. Harry couldn’t stop his lips from curving upwards. 

He picked up his shoes and went to put them in their proper place, wondering if Louis had even once in his life taken the trouble to do so. Wondering if Louis’ feet would look just as tiny next to his, like his vans did next to his own boots.

When Harry came back to the boy, he was dozing again. He hadn’t meant to do more than cover Louis’ body with his jacket, or bring him a blanket if he was feeling too generous. But either he was not as sober as he had thought, or Louis had cast a spell on him. Bending down, he slipped one arm under his knees and the other under his torso, and picked him off the couch with a grunt.

The sudden movement woke Louis up again. He looked around in confusion for a moment before dropping his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“‘Rrre ya takin’ me, ‘arold?” He probably wanted to sound menacing, but it wasn’t very effective since he could barely speak clearly, and was nuzzling into his neck like a kitten.

“To the dump,” Harry told him as he headed for the hallway. Louis didn’t seem to have registered his words.

“Fuckin’ dickhead.” He kept mumbling, but Harry could only make out a few words. Nevertheless, he got a pretty good idea from "refused" and "fuck" and "asshole". Louis hadn't got the night he'd hoped for. A part of Harry felt sorry for him, but he also couldn’t help but think, karma, bitch.

He shouldered open the door to Louis’ room. It was a mess, as always. He had to take baby steps while making his way to his bed because he didn’t want to accidentally trip on a skateboard and fall.

Very carefully, he laid the boy down. Louis immediately burrowed himself in his sheets, turning over to lay on his stomach and sighing when he found a comfortable position. Harry was contemplating leaving him to it now, but there was one last thing he wanted to do.

Trying to keep his footfalls soft, he walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a couple of painkillers. When he came back, Louis was still muttering nonsense.

“This is some water and aspirin for you.” Harry put them down on his cluttered bedside table, making sure Louis was watching him. "Take these when you get up in the morning, okay?" 

He wasn't sure if Louis was understanding a thing, because his eyes kept fluttering with sleep and the alcohol. He was smiling, though, and Harry wondered what was going on in his stupid, beer-filled brain. 

As he pulled the covers over him, Louis let out a tiny huff of laughter into his pillow. “Should’ve come home with you, Harry.”

Then he promptly fell back asleep. Harry couldn’t breath for a good thirty seconds.

Next morning, Harry woke up cursing. He had brought some aspirin to Louis, but why didn't he have the sense to do that for himself last night? 

Gulping down one of the tablets, Harry clutched the kitchen counter until it didn't feel like someone was drilling a hole in his skull. He wasn’t in a state to cook, so it had to be either toast or cereals. He opened the fridge before doing a double take. A plate full of pancakes sat on the tiny dining table, in front of Harry's usual chair. Frowning, he walked over it. Had Louis made them before he left?

When he got a closer look at them, he had no doubt that Louis had, in fact, stepped into the kitchen for more than five seconds, cooked, and left some for Harry. The pancakes were misshapen and slightly burnt on one side. Louis had not put much effort into plating them properly either. There was a note beside the plate in Louis' messy scrawl, tucked under the bottle of syrup.

made some pancakes. thought i'd leave the best ones for you xxxxx

That little shit. His grin was concerningly wide as he sat down. Whether it was the tablet that cured his hangover, or the pancakes, he didn't know.

Why was the bus moving so much slower than usual? Harry banged his head lightly on the window, wishing the driver would speed the fuck up. All he wanted was to go home and just fucking sleep. No, he needed to. 

He had had only 4 hours of sleep, having had to stay up till 3 last night, doing the Stats assignment he had to turn in today. He knew it was his own fault he hadn't completed it in time, procrastinating till it was the very last day. Hell, he wouldn't have come anywhere near completing it had it not been for Liam's help. Even then, he couldn't get himself to feel guilty. He hated Stats.

The thing was, he didn't function properly on less than 6 hours of sleep. And the classes today had been extra gruelling, or at least they seemed to Harry. He had almost dozed off during French. The only good things were that he would get extra credit for that stupid assignment and the class after break, the last class today, had been cancelled.

The bus bounced over a speed bump, and he winced. His brain was sensitive from all the exertion, and he was trying to stave off the second headache of the week. Thankfully, the next stop would be his. Fucking finally. 

He didn't move from his position for a while, keeping his eyes shut and hugging his bag to his chest. The little walk from the stop to his apartment seemed a too tiring task, he just wished someone would pick him up from the bus seat and deposit him in his bed. He was being dramatic, but still, it'd be nice.

The bus rolled to a stop and he had to get up. He could almost hear his bones and muscles moaning as he climbed out and started walking. The thought of the comfort of home was the only thing making him place one foot in front of the other. But then he remembered he didn't live alone like he sometimes so wished he did.

He groaned, making a face at the ground. Louis would be home, probably blasting Oasis, watching footie. The bastard rarely had any classes on Fridays and all of their friends were jealous of him for that. But only Harry had to put up with Louis on his extra long weekends. He'd listen to his favourite music all day, making a mess of their entire flat while he finished his chores. At least, they weren't having a party this weekend.

Even then, Harry was in no mood to deal with Louis and his antics right now. He entered the building, managing a smile for the guard and leaned against the cool wall of the elevator. Maybe he'll pretend to be sick so Louis wouldn't disturb him too much. 

Days like these, he had no idea how he could bear living with a whirlwind like Louis. But he had been sharing the apartment with him for more than a year now, and their friends claimed that was the second longest Louis had ever gone without changing roommates (the longest was obviously Zayn). Apparently it had something to do with Harry, according to Liam and Zayn, but Louis said he loved the flat and was going to 'usurp' it and make Zayn his roommate. Eh. Whatever. It was an empty threat anyway. 

When he opened the door, the apartment was quiet, just like he wanted it to be, and that took him by surprise. Was Louis not home? Was this one of the few rare occasions that he got to exist by himself? Had the universe taken pity on him? 

He was just about to rejoice, when he heard a muffled noise coming from the direction of the bedrooms. Maybe his sleep deprived brain was imagining things, but hadn't that sounded like his name? No, that couldn't be. He froze, listening hard for any other sounds. There was nothing for a moment, but then– was that… was that a moan?

What the fuck.

Harry moved towards Louis’ room, anticipation thrumming in his veins just at the thought of what he might find. As much as Louis annoyed him, he had never been able to shake the intense feeling of attraction he had felt towards the boy since the very first day. Everyone else was dull and dry in front of Louis. The tragedy here was that Louis hated his guts. So Harry had learned to be content himself with dullness.

If it was Louis making those noises, maybe he had someone over and they were going at it. He wasn't going to, like, peep through the keyhole like a perv. Let them enjoy, he would just slip into his room and try to sleep and try not to wank to Louis again.

But the noises weren’t coming from in there. His eyes widened as he realised they were coming from his own room.

What. The. Fuck. 

He didn't bring anyone home yesterday, he was studying, for fuck's sake. Who the hell was in his room and what in the devil's name were they doing?

With a suddenly dry mouth, he slowly walked over to his door. Yup. The source of the noises was definitely in here. Just as he placed a hand on the handle to open it, a moan came from inside that sounded disconcertingly like Louis. Fuck.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open, his breath leaving him as soon as he lifted his gaze and took in the scene before him.

Louis was in his bed. He was completely naked from the waist down, but he had a sheer black tee on that looked suspiciously like the one Harry had taken off before heading out. It was so big on him that his sharp collar bones were on display, the full sleeves were bunching around his hands and the flimsy material was pooling on the top of his thighs. A stark contrast to the dark cloth was Louis’ pink cock, curving against his stomach and smearing precome on his tee. On Harry’s tee that he had on. Shit.

Harry’s eyes travelled lower, and his own cock twitched when he noticed the shiny, black thing peeking from between Louis’ beautiful, thick thighs. It was a dildo; one of Louis’ hands was keeping it in place while he bounced up and down, fucking himself on it. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Louis was in his bed, wearing his tee and riding a dildo, looking like the definition of erotic.

What a turn in Harry's day.

The pleasured look drained from Louis’ face as soon as he registered Harry’s presence in the room. He gasped, sinking down on the plastic toy one last time and breathing raggedly. “H-Harry.”

He looked scared. He looked vulnerable. He looked like he was about to bolt off to nowhere any second. Harry couldn’t have that. He needed Louis now.

So, he shut the door behind him, dropping his bag to the ground carelessly. Taking a slow step toward the bed, he removed his tee and threw it to the corner of the room, wondering if Louis had ever worn it while he got himself off like this. Damn, he really wished he had. “Hi, Louis.”

Louis’ blown out blue eyes raked up and down Harry’s torso, and if the stutter in his breath was anything to go by, he liked what he saw. Harry smirked, working his belt loose and moving closer to him. Louis’ eyes snapped up to meet his. “What- What are you doing?”

Without bothering to answer, he pushed his jeans down his legs and stepped out of them, now left in his boxers. On all fours, he climbed onto the bed and crawled toward the other boy. He didn’t break their eye contact as he asked, “What are you doing, baby?”

God, Harry had waited so long to call him baby. It sounded so good falling from his lips for Louis, it felt like it fit.

“I… I, uhm…” Watching Harry draw closer, Louis was clearly too affected to form a proper response. The taller boy stopped right in front of him, sitting on his knees, mirroring Louis’ position. Louis’ gaze travelled up and down Harry’s form again, stopping at Harry’s semi that was tenting his boxers. Harry watched intently as he bit his lip, shaking himself from whatever thoughts the sight had given him. “Uhm, I was…”

“Should I tell you what you were doing?” Harry placed his hands on either side of Louis’ hips, caging him in and supporting his weight as he leaned forward. Louis’ gaze immediately dropped to his lips, but he leaned back, making vague noises in his throat.

Harry licked his lips, coming to a decision himself. “You were sitting on my bed,” He moved forward again, forcing Louis to shift back further. “wearing nothing but my tee, which probably smells like me, doesn’t it?” Louis used his elbows to drag himself away from Harry’s advances. “And you were riding a dildo, looking like absolute sin, and moaning my name.” Louis gasped and fell back among the pillows, Harry now hovering over him. “Weren’t you, baby?”

Louis closed his eyes, fisting the covers in his hands. “I was.” He admitted on a weak whimper.

“Why?”

All Harry got in response was Louis shaking his head subtly and biting his lip. That reaction slowed him down a bit. Did Louis not want this? He was getting off to him, clearly, but maybe he didn’t want to actually be with him? If that’s the case, Harry would never force him, as much as it disappointed him.

He cupped Louis’ face gently, caressing his cheek and trying to erase the distraught look from his features. “Are you alright, Louis?” The smaller boy slowly opened his eyes, swallowing but not saying anything. “Do you want to stop?”

Louis shook his head again at that, his hands coming up to clutch Harry’s shoulders as if to stop him from moving. “I- I thought you wouldn’t be back for a while. So, I came here because—” Like he was too ashamed to continue, he cut himself off by biting his bottom lip and closed his eyes once more. Harry planted a soft kiss on his forehead as a reward for speaking up and encouraging him to continue, and felt his fingers twitch against his shoulders. He breathed in deeply, then confessed everything as he breathed out. “Because I was feeling horny and I just wanted to wank to the thought of you fucking me.”  

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. Jesus Christ, Louis was actually wanking to the thought of them fucking. Fucking hell, he’s probably done it before too. Well, that made the two of them.

Harry let out a groan at the onslaught of sensual images his brain suddenly came up with. He couldn’t believe this attraction was mutual when all this time Louis had made a point to make sure Harry knew he hated him. He couldn’t believe there was a chance that Louis would let him ruin him and take care of him afterwards. He dipped his head down, open lips grazing Louis’ smooth jaw. “Do you still want that?”

“What?” It didn’t sound like Louis didn’t understand what he meant, more like he couldn’t believe Harry said that.

He dragged his mouth to Louis’ ear, breathing out the words. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, Harry.” Louis whined, his hands sliding up towards Harry’s neck. “I do. I want you to fuck me.”

Harry held back a growl at the words. He was fully hard in his boxers now. How couldn’t he be? He had run into the star of his wet dreams wearing his tee fucking himself on a dildo in his room to the thought of them fucking. He couldn’t imagine a hotter scenario. Of-fucking-course he was hard. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

Pulling back, he looked down at Louis to find him already staring at him. He shifted himself to get comfortable and Louis spread his bare legs for him to settle between. Harry could barely suppress a moan when their hips aligned. He took a deep breath to calm down his overwhelmed senses. His eyes fell to Louis’ lips, looking red and wet. Louis nodded, giving Harry permission silently.

So, ever so slowly, Harry started lowering his face. He had dreamed about this exact moment almost every day since he met Louis, and now that it was finally here, he wanted to remember every microsecond, wanted to get the picture before his eyes carved behind his lids. 

When their lips met, it was barely a brush at first, then the softest and gentlest of kisses Harry had ever given or received. Louis’ hands came up to frame his jaw, holding his face close to his own, as he kissed Harry back. Louis’ lips were as soft and sweet as they had been in Harry’s dreams, but this time, they were also real and that made it all that better. Within seconds, Harry knew he was hooked. He was sure he would never get this experience anywhere else, not like he planned to move, unless Louis pushed him away himself.

Hot lust and impatience soon turned the kiss deeper and dirtier. Harry teased Louis’ lips open with his tongue and licked into the warmth of his mouth without wasting any time. Their mouths fit together while their tongues tangled, and Harry felt a small hand slip into his hair to clutch his curls. Shit. He has always liked his hair being pulled during sex, but Louis made it even more hot.

Their mouths parted with a smacking sound when Harry pulled back, starting to kiss his way down to Louis’ neck. He took his time marking the skin there, enjoying the vibrations against his lips every time Louis moaned. Moving down further, Harry trailed kisses along those gorgeous collarbones, and kissed and bit and licked until there was a red bruise right in the middle. When he leaned back to stare at his work, Louis shifted under him. His hands went straight to the hem of the sheer top to try and remove it, but Harry stopped him.

“Don’t.” Louis looked up at him, confusion on his flushed face, and Harry couldn’t keep himself from stealing a kiss. “Wanna fuck you like this, wearing my shirt.”

The smaller boy whined, clutching Harry’s arms for something to do with his hands. “Then please, Harry.”

"Yeah, Lou." Harry nodded, his cock now throbbing. He wondered how long Louis had been playing with himself before he came in, how close he had gotten to his climax. All this foreplay must be edging Louis, and Harry didn’t want to tease him too much during their first time. Hopefully, there would be a next time, and he could make him beg and plead then.

For now, he quickly kissed down Louis’ chest and stomach over the cloth, until he reached his leaking dick. No dick had any right to look as pretty as Louis’ did. There were drops of precome dripping down the length, and a vein running up the underside to the head. Harry wanted to taste him, so he did.

Placing both his hands on Louis’ hips, he leaned down and licked a wet stripe following the trail of his precome up to the tip. Louis moaned loudly as soon as Harry wrapped his lips around his cock, his hands gripping his curls. Harry sucked softly, licking the tip again and again. He even got a few beads of the white substance leaking directly onto his tongue, and he groaned just thinking about giving Louis a blow job some other time. Not now, no, because now, he had a different goal.

He pulled off Louis’ cock, leaving the head shiny with his spit, and moved lower, to his tight balls. It was like he had lost all control, because he couldn’t resist taking one of them in his mouth too. He heard Louis whining, and pictured him throwing his head from side to side. “Harry, Harry, please. Oh god.”  

After a moment, he sat up a little to get a good look at what was, essentially, the root of all this. Just like Louis’ pink rim, the black dildo was wet and shiny with lube. Louis’ hole was stretched wide around the toy, of which just a little over an inch was  not  inside Louis. That made Harry wonder how much of it was inside him. He bit his lip at the thought, bringing a finger to gently trace the skin clinging to the plastic.

Louis gasped at the feeling, making Harry look at him instead. He had raised himself up on his elbows and was staring at Harry’s hand between his thighs. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his cheeks were a bright pink and his neck, which was littered with bites, had sweat pooling at the base. Louis’ mouth was hanging open, and when Harry repeated the action with his finger, his eyes closed and his lips parted further, letting a moan escape.

Holy fuck. He looked and sounded so beautiful. Harry counted it a blessing that he got to see him like this.

“Harry, please.” Louis was staring at him now, and it looked like it was taking him a lot of effort to speak. “Need you. I can’t, ungh, can’t hold back much longer. Please.”

Nodding vigorously, Harry rushed forward and pressed their lips together again. He brought one hand up to cup the back of Louis’ head and carefully laid him back down. “I got you, darling.” He murmured into the kiss. “Gonna give you what you need.”

It simply wasn’t within Harry’s power to deny Louis.

After he pulled back, he quickly got rid of his boxers, finally setting his hard cock free. Louis gazed at it with hooded eyes while Harry tossed his boxers away, to be dealt with later. Harry watched Louis watching him as he wrapped a hand around himself and gave a couple of lazy tugs, giving Louis a show. Louis swallowed, his eyes fluttering up to meet Harry’s. The want on his face made Harry squeeze the base of his dick, needing to delay his orgasm and focus on Louis instead.

He licked his lips as he settled between Louis’ thighs again. He placed one of his hands on his inner thigh, caressing the soft skin there, while his other hand hovered in front of the dildo. He looked up at Louis. “I’m gonna take this out now, okay?”

“Yeah.” Louis breathed out, watching Harry’s every move.

Harry felt Louis’ thigh muscles clench under his palm as he took a hold of the black plastic and started pulling it out carefully. Louis whimpered once the seven-inch long toy was out of him and in Harry’s hand, his empty hole quivering. Harry couldn’t decide what to focus on — the wet dildo that was giving him dirty ideas, or Louis’ exposed hole that he was soon gonna be sinking his cock into. He let out a ragged breath, shaking himself out of it. Louis. He had to concentrate on him.

He reached over to his bedside table, placing the dildo on it, then opening the upper drawer and fishing out lube and a condom from the very back. He ripped open the condom packet and rolled it over himself, Louis’ gaze on him making his hands tremble just a bit. Then he poured out a generous amount of lube and covered his dick, getting it wet and ready for Louis. Louis was already wet and ready for him, and the thought made his cock twitch pitifully. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A groan escaped his mouth as he stroked Louis’ hole with his lube-wet fingers. “Fuck, baby. Got yourself open and ready for me, didn’t you? Look so pretty like this, Lou. Always so pretty for me.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Louis whined, gripping the sheets in his fists. “Please, get inside of me.”

“Want me inside you, darling, like you had that dildo inside you?” Harry asked, an idea forming in his head. “Would you ride me, like you were riding the dildo before? Hmm?”

“Fuck, yeah.” With a keen look on his face, Louis started to get up. “Wanna ride you, Harry, please. Just need you in me.”   

“Okay, Lou. Of course.” Harry mumbled as they swiftly changed positions. He laid on the pillows, half leaning against the headboard so he had the perfect view as Louis straddled his lap.

He rubbed Louis’ strong thighs as he lifted himself up and lined Harry’s cock with his hole. Even the light touch from his hands on his sensitive skin sent sparks up Harry's spine. Louis then placed his hands on Harry’s torso and stared into his eyes as he started to lower himself slowly. The head of his dick breached the tight ring of muscles and Harry cursed. All he could think about was Louis' weight on top of him and his hands on his chest. All he could feel was the snug warmth of Louis' body as it engulfed him inch by inch.

"Christ, Harry." Louis moaned when he bottomed out. 

Harry agreed. His hands squeezed Louis' hips and he fell forward, their lips connecting again. Harry let Louis have as much time as he needed to adjust to his size, staying frozen against his body's need to thrust up. He bit Louis' bottom lip, pulling at the soft skin before releasing it. "So good, baby, feels so good already. You feel so nice."

Louis whined against his jaw, nibbling on the skin there as Harry grabbed his asscheeks in his big hands. He decided to keep talking, or else he was gonna lose control. "Like how my cock feels inside you, sweetheart? Do you feel good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Harry." Louis murmured against his mouth before covering it with his own. "You're so big. Fuck."

Louis started swivelling his hips before Harry had a chance to respond. Friction, finally. Negligible, but still. Harry dropped his head on Louis' shoulder when Louis got more confident in his movements. His small hand came up to tangle in Harry's hair as he raised himself up slowly, then sat back down. Harry's mouth fell open with a groan that he buried into Louis' neck. 

By the time Louis worked himself up to a rhythm, he was panting, letting out tiny puffs of air against Harry's hair. His cock bounced with his movements, getting more of his precome on the sheer shirt. It was almost slipping off his frame, exposing more sweaty skin which Harry wasted no time putting his mouth on. Clutching Harry's shoulders, he let his head fall back to give him more space to work. He made such pretty noises, almost as pretty as he looked.

Harry was struggling not fuck up into the heat of Louis' hole, so he contented himself with tiny, jerky thrusts in time with Louis pushing down on him. He couldn't get enough of feeling Louis' body under his palms. He ran his hands up his sides beneath the shirt, dragging his nails down his back, kneading his lush globes and stroking his thighs that must surely be burning by now. All the while, he kept muttering praises to the boy, telling him how good he was doing. "Fucking perfect, baby. Love having you like this. You're doing so great, making both of us feel so good."

Louis whined and keened, pulling Harry closer. For a while, the praise seemed to fuel him, but soon his hips stuttered, his thighs quivering under Harry's palm. "Harry, please, I can't–"

His voice broke with a dry sob. One last time, Harry pulled him down on his lap and Louis gasped, eyes widening when Harry’s cock jostled inside him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t–” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and hiding his face away. But he kept rotating his hips, like he couldn’t sit still, like even now he was trying to chase the pleasure.

“Shh. Nothing to be sorry for.” Harry soothed him, rubbing his back with one hand and grabbing his hip with the other to slow his movements. "I know you're tired, sweetheart, it's okay. You did great. I'll take care of you, now, would you like that?"

At that, Louis finally stopped moving. Harry felt him nod. There was a whine in his words when he spoke. "Please, Harry. 'M so close, wanna come." 

"Gonna make you, baby." Harry promised, surprised at how deep with arousal his voice came out. He wound an arm around Louis' waist and placed a hand on the back of his neck to support him as he flipped them. Louis landed on the pillows with another gasp, his grip tightening around Harry. "Gonna fuck you, Lou, and make you come for me."

Louis whimpered out one more 'please'. Harry kissed under his ear, on his neck and his jaw multiple times before untangling himself. He used his forearms to raise himself above slightly. Looking at Louis spread out beneath him, for him, did something to him. He just looked so gorgeous at that moment – blue eyes wide, dark and trusting, face flushed pink, sweaty skin positively glowing golden in the afternoon light.

"Ready?" Harry asked, and Louis nodded in response, compliant. There was an itch to control, to command, to capture his wrists and pin them above his head, to hold him down with a gentle but firm hand on his throat. Jesus Christ, what was happening to him? 

He didn't want to overstep any boundaries Louis might have, didn't want to overwhelm him or make him uncomfortable when Louis was already sharing such a special moment with him. But just to scratch that itch, he took Louis' hands in his own, intertwined their fingers. He held them against the mattress as he started slowly moving in and out of him, hoping Louis took it as the intimate gesture it was.

Louis closed his eyes as Harry rocked gently into him, letting out a broken sigh. Harry leaned down to join their lips in a slow but deep kiss. The boy under him returned his kiss immediately, while hooking his feet over Harry's knees, and Harry was certain he could spend all eternity right here, like this, with Louis.

"Faster, please Harry." He asked, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

Harry changed the pace to his liking and was rewarded with Louis moaning out in pleasure. He let the sound ring around the room and mix with that of skin slapping against skin, working to prompt more of such noises from Louis. Dipping his head low, he nosed along his jawline and kissed down his neck. The strong scent of Louis’ skin filled his nostrils and suddenly he wanted more of it.

Pulling one of his hands away, he reached between them and found the hem of Louis’ – Harry’s – shirt. He slid his hand inside and inched it up his torso while dragging his palm across his tacky skin. Louis took a sharp breath when Harry’s thumb brushed across his nipple. Harry pushed himself up to bask in the sight before him - Louis’ chest rising and falling with his short breaths, an expanse of tan skin that he wanted to leave love bites all over, a pair of pink, pert little buds that he wanted to suck and bite.

“God, baby.” Harry marvelled, stroking his nipple again. “Look at you. So fucking gorgeous, every inch of you. Wanna put my mouth on you.”

Louis keened under his words and his touch, his free hand finding Harry’s curls. “Want you to. Please.”

“Yeah?” He didn't wait for an answer, just placed a wet kiss over his pec and wrapped his lips around his nip.

Above him, Louis made indistinct noises and gripped his hair tighter as Harry alternated between sucking and rolling his nipple with his tongue. He gradually started thrusting even faster, moaning out and pushing the balls of his feet into the mattress. Louis folded his legs around his waist, allowing him to drive deeper.

"Fuck, Harry. Oh God, yes." Louis let go of his hand in favour of clutching Harry's back, his blunt nails digging into his skin. He pulled at his hair, extracting a low groan from Harry and guiding his mouth to the other side of his chest. 

Harry used both his forearms to hold himself steady and took the chance to shift his hips. Just as he bit down on Louis' nipple and pushed in at the new angle, Louis' body arched off the bed with a cry. Looked like he had found the sweet spot inside Louis.

"There, baby?" Harry growled out, heat pooling in his gut when Louis' walls tightened around his dick. "Like this?"

"Ungh, yeah." Louis' hips rocked down involuntarily as he panted. "So close, Harry, please."

"C'mon, baby. Come for me." Harry was seconds away from his own climax. The heat in his belly was a raging fire now, ready to consume him whole. "Come on my cock, Louis, show me how good you feel."

“Harry, Harry.” Louis moaned loudly, and Harry realised this was the same sound he had heard when he entered the apartment.

On just the next push of Harry's hips, Louis' eyes rolled back in his head and he curved off the mattress again, spilling all over his tummy with a soft sob. Louis' hole became a hot, vice-like grip around Harry's dick, and he was sure he was seeing stars as he fucked into it a couple more times before coming hard. 

"Louis, oh God. Lou." Harry buried his face against Louis' neck, his cock spurting out ribbons of jizz inside the condom.

Before his arms gave out, Harry remembered to carefully pull out of Louis and throw away the condom. He hissed at the oversensitivity but simultaneously missed the feeling of being engulfed by Louis' warmth. Oh well. All he could do was hope for a next time. 

Louis merely gave a tiny whimper at loss. Harry laid down, half on top of him, with a sigh. His body was overheated and tired, but sated. Pressing his nose to the fabric of the shirt bunched up under Louis' arms, he took a deep breath in. It had smelled like Harry when he'd last seen it, but now, the smell of Louis was mixed in there. Christ, it should be disgusting considering how sweaty it was, but all Harry could think about was how he could get used to it.

He could get used to it all — coming home to Louis, him wearing Harry's stuff, fuck, them sharing clothes. Having Louis like this, with him. Casual couple things like cuddling on the couch. Making Louis breakfast before going to uni together. God, he wanted so much. But right now, he had more than he ever did before and he was gonna appreciate it. He smiled to himself, gently stroking the bare skin on Louis' side, and closed his eyes.

That didn’t last long, though, because Louis was pushing him off a second later.

“Get off of me, Jesus fucking Christ,” Louis grumbled, and as Harry landed on his back beside him, all the warm hope he had felt earlier turned into cold disappointment. Nothing had changed between them, then. Louis still hated him.

He didn’t know where to go from here, how to process everything. But once again, he didn’t have time to, because Louis draped himself over him, his head resting on Harry’s chest, his arm around Harry’s waist, his leg between Harry’s own.

“Fucking giant,” Louis complained, getting comfortable.

And Harry… he was just so confused. Ever since the night at the pub, Louis had been sending so many mixed signals. He was pushing Harry away, but also clinging to him. His demeanour had been so different just minutes ago. He didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t know how to ask Louis about it either.

He wrapped a tentative arm around Louis’ shoulders. His heart skipped a beat when Louis didn’t push it away, and snuggled a little closer instead.

With the exhaustion in his bones and the warmth from Louis' body pressed to his, Harry was starting to drift into a much-needed sleep. Louis chose that exact moment to move.

Harry's groan of protest was forgotten as Louis sat up and stretched. The shirt fell down his torso, but he bunched it in his hands and pulled it off. Then he threw it at Harry's face. “Get up, lazy bum. We need to shower.”

Harry had a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but Louis winced as he stood, and Harry considered it a payback.

A shower with Louis or sleep? There was only one correct answer. He got off the bed and followed Louis out.

Louis shivered, turning around. Harry tugged him closer by his hips, and he didn’t resist. It took him by surprise. He had been afraid Louis would call it a one-time thing, warn him not to touch him again if he didn’t want to be poisoned. Emboldened, he kissed up his neck while Louis tilted his head away with a sigh, hands clutching Harry’s shoulders. Maybe this was something substantial. Maybe Louis would be open to talk about this, because Harry was desperate to. He couldn’t go without an explanation now.

So, in a casual murmur, he asked the first thing he could think of. “How long have you been doing this?”

There was a pause. The shampoo bottle clicked open behind Harry, and he felt lithe fingers slipping into his curls. He pulled back at the lack of response. But Louis didn’t meet his gaze, intently working on lathering up his hair. Finally, he shrugged. “Only a year.” 

“A year?!” Harry gaped at him. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeled. A year? Louis had been doing this all this time? Stealing his clothes, slipping into his room, getting off to him. And Harry never noticed before today. How the fuck had he not? “How did I never notice?”

“You’re sweet and hot as fuck, Styles,” Louis rolled his eyes. “But you’re dumb as fuck too.”

Jesus. Louis thought he was sweet and hot. Was this a dream? Was he sleeping in the bus? Needing confirmation, he leaned down suddenly, and smashed their lips together. Louis squeaked in surprise, but kissed him back. His lips were wet under Harry’s, his mouth was warm, his fingers were gently massaging his scalp. This was not a dream.

Louis was breathing hard by the time they pulled apart. “What was that for?”

"I thought— I thought you hated me!"

“Fucking hell, Harry.” Louis’ voice was almost fond. “You think I’d have stayed with you so long if I hated you? You think I’d have moved in with you if I hated you?”

A giddy laugh bubbled out of Harry. “So you’ve never hated me?”

“Only a little.” Louis hummed, quietening. “Only because you decided you didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t— Lou.” Harry squeezed him, shaking his head so his wet curls flew everywhere. “I could never! You annoy me a little, yes. But I do have a feeling you do that on purpose. And have you met yourself? You- you’re amazing, baby, I didn’t have a chance.”

The words made Louis blush, though he tried to hide it behind another eye roll. It wasn’t a common sight, and Harry bathed in it. He rested his forehead against his, continuing with soft voice. “I’m serious. I like you, I really do. You have no fucking clue how happy I was when you agreed to live here. And when you let me fuck you today. I was pretty sure you’d kick in me in the balls.”

"Oh, if I hadn’t been in such a compromising position, I would have.” Louis replied quickly, but there was no usual heat behind the words. “It's hard to fight naked with a dildo up your ass."

Harry laughed, for probably the first time at something Louis had said. Louis didn’t miss it either, lips twitching with a smile. 

He nudged his nose with his own, making him scrunch it up cutely. "You were nicer to me while you had my dick in you."

Louis’ gaze fell to Harry’s mouth, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "You could put it back in me if that's the case."

Their eyes met, and they leaned in as one.