Work Text:
If there’s anything that baffles Louis about the holiday season, it’s the way that it’s so highly taken advantage of by corporate America. In his opinion, holidays should be about family, spending time with them and celebrating each other. Instead, it’s taken advantage of to get people to spend outlandish amounts of money. That’s the reason he’s here, working at 10pm at Tito’s, instead of hugging his sisters, because some capitalist moron decided that ringing in the New Year should be marketable.
Anyways.
At least Tito’s is a good high-end restaurant to work at, with nice managers, decent customers, and a well-paying wage that lets Louis afford his own place. They’re hosting their special New Year’s Eve dinner, with free flowing champagne until midnight, when they’ll all ring in the new year together. The owner, Tito, always makes sure to give every employee a glass and a little bonus for working the holiday, which makes the work a little more enjoyable.
And… well, if there’s another, more personable reason that Louis decided to pick up the holiday hours, then who needs to know?
“Lou! Can you drop these off to table 19? I’ve really, really got to pee.”
Louis looks up from an order ticket to see Leila holding a plate of champagne glasses, practically hopping from foot to foot. “Jeez, yes, give me that before you drop it,” he says, taking the platter with practiced ease. “Go, go.”
She practically shouts a thank you before peeling off towards the bathroom, Louis shaking his head fondly at her retreating form. Surely he wasn’t that hyper in high school?
He delivers the champagne glasses to the table, smiling at the gaggle of rich businessmen who are paying his wages before rolling his eyes after he’s turned around. Carefully depositing the empty glasses into the kitchen, Louis nearly takes someone’s head off with his tray when he turns around.
“Oi, watch it!” he snaps, bringing the tray down and letting out an exasperated sigh when he sees who it is. “Harry, you know better than to stand behind someone who’s holding something in the kitchen.”
A few rogue curly brown hairs fall into his face as Harry smiles sheepishly, rubbing at his forehead. “Sorry. I haven’t seen you all shift though.”
The words settle in Louis’ chest like hot chocolate, warm in all the right ways, but just a touch too hot. He can feel the blush on his cheeks forming, praying that it’s light enough to be brushed off as heat from the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s been busy as fuck. I’ll see you at midnight though,” he says, phrasing it more like a question than anything else. Who knows, maybe Harry would rather hang out with Nick, the other sous chef.
“Of course! See you then!”
Harry’s enthusiastic response and wave sets off another wave of butterflies in Louis’ stomach, even as his name is called from the front. Fuck. He takes a deep breath to neutralize whatever emotions are on his face and then heads back out to do his job.
Sometimes he hates the hold that Harry has on him, the draw that started the day they first met and has only gotten stronger since. Louis can still remember the day Harry joined the staff a year ago, long hair pulled up into a bun as he stumbled around the kitchen. Even with the sweat pouring down his face, he was still the most attractive person Louis has seen in he doesn’t know how long.
(Harry got a haircut not too long after he started, citing that his long curls were too annoying to deal with in the kitchen, and although Louis really mourned the loss, he can’t say it made him any less attractive.)
The rest of the night passes in a blur, with Louis coordinating the arrival of the last few courses before everyone heads outside to the courtyard. Times like these he’s thankful for the existence of overtime pay.
He breathes a sigh of relief when the last dirty plates make their way into the kitchen, wiping the sweat off his brow as he leans against the wall. “Another year in the books,” he says, cracking a smile at the manager.
“Successful one, too. Thanks for all your help, Louis.”
With all the courses finished, he leans against a wall in the back, keeping one eye out on the main room just in case one of the guests needs something. He occasionally sends out the waiters for drink servicing, but other than that, he can relax until the owner comes out to let everyone into the courtyard.
Ducking into the back room for his coat, Louis grabs a glass of champagne on his way out, raising an eyebrow when he sees Leila trying to sneak one off the platter too. He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything, turning a blind eye. Kids will be kids, and he knows for a fact that Leila lives within walking distance. He does make a mental note to keep an eye on her though.
It’s chilly outside, and he shivers through his button up. The restaurant outside courtyard is decorated with fairy lights all around, patio heaters spaced out to warm the whole area up. Platters with champagne glasses have already been set out by the entrance so the waiters don’t have to worry about getting more for guests. Louis sees a gaggle of kitchen staff over in the far left corner, a couple of busboys trying to discreetly smoke in the shadows. Clearly they must not know that the smell is very distinctive.
Past his eye roll, Louis spots some senior staff off to the side, so he goes to join them, clinking his glass with theirs in cheers. It’s not that often that he gets to drink the good shit, although with his position as head waiter, he’ll sometimes be tasked with tasting the night’s wine. Professional wine tasting was definitely not something he thought he’d ever have to get into but alas. He’s not complaining about it.
A hand comes down on his shoulder and Louis jolts so hard, he nearly spills his champagne all down his front.
“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to do that.”
“I’d really hope not, Harry,” Louis says with a sigh, pulling him into the group with an arm around his shoulders. Maybe it’s the tingle of alcohol already running through his veins, but he leaves his arm there, fingers resting on the soft felt of Harry’s coat.
The conversation continues to flow around them, even as Harry stiffens minutely under his touch. Louis is about to remove his arm when Harry finally relaxes into it, tilting his head ever so slightly so that it’s brushing up against Louis’ shoulder. He can hardly breathe for fear of disturbing the balance, but Harry slides right into the conversation like nothing’s wrong.
“I’ve honestly heard that it’s quite a mediocre movie,” Harry says, taking a sip of champagne. “What d’you think, Lou?”
“I uh… hm?” Louis refocuses, putting all thoughts of Harry from his mind. “Sorry, what?”
The group laughs and Harry shakes his head, turning to eye him. “Drink too much already?”
“No, shut up,” Louis huffs, giving him a light shove. Harry laughs, high and delighted, fitting himself right back into Louis’ side. They stay like that for ages, long past when their champagne glasses go dry, neither of them making a move to get another.
Louis only budges when someone shouts out that there’s a minute left until midnight, letting his arm fall, much to the relief of his upper arm muscles. Nobody told him that putting the moves on would be so painful.
“Another glass?” Harry queries, nodding towards Louis’ empty flute.
“Sure,” he shrugs, figuring he might as well ring in the new year with champagne he couldn’t otherwise afford. Inexplicably though, Harry tangles their fingers together on the short walk over, giving a gentle squeeze before he lets go to get a new glass. The contact shakes Louis to the bone, so much so that he nearly drops his empty flute all over the floor. “Fucking shit.”
Gently, Harry takes it from his fingers and replaces it with a full one, smiling fondly. “Here you go, butterfingers.”
“Oh hush,” Louis says with a grumble, rolling his eyes. People start counting down behind them, and he tips his glass towards Harry with a raised eyebrow. “To a better new year?”
“Absolutely.”
They clink their glasses together and take a sip at the same time, just as the countdown hits 10. When Louis brings his glass back down though, Harry is much closer than he had remembered, something sparkling behind his eyes. He hears the numbers tick down in the background and as midnight strikes, the only thing he’s paying attention to is the pink flush that’s blossomed across Harry’s cheeks, the rogue curl that’s straying into his eyes.
Louis doesn’t want to dare let himself hope, but they’re practically forehead to forehead now, breathing in each other’s air. “Can I…” he breathes out, free hand coming up to cup Harry’s cheek.
Harry answers by closing the distance and pressing their lips together.
Nobody tells you that first kisses are usually awkward. Rarely are they coordinated or as sweet as the movies have people think. Louis thinks that this fits under that category.
It’s not bad, but he can taste the splash of champagne on Harry’s lips, which are awkwardly butting up against his own. Pulling back with half a giggle, Louis huffs and shakes his head. “Can we try that again?”
“As long as you promise me that we can keep doing it and that this isn’t just… a spur of the moment thing for you,” Harry says, a tremor of nerves belying the smile gracing his face. It makes Louis’ heart ache.
“I think if I admitted how long I’ve wanted this, you’d laugh at me.” Louis shakes his head, blindly putting down his champagne glass back on the tray so he can cup Harry’s face with both hands. “Of course we can keep doing this. Happy New Year, love.”
Second kisses are always so much better.