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Once a week, every week, for six months now.
That’s how often Louis has delivered food to Harry. Usually on a Friday evening, sometimes Saturday if Harry goes out after work.
Louis doesn’t really know him, but after the 5th time of delivering to him Louis had plucked up the courage to banter with the man a little, and over the weeks they’d got to the stage where they would now have a brief chat every time.
Louis had needed courage, because Harry is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen, and even brushing fingers with him when he had handed over the bag made Louis’ mouth go dry, so actually managing to speak to him and not sound like a total tool had been a massive achievement.
He looks forward to Harry’s order coming through now, and if he’d had to have an incredibly embarrassing conversation with the dispatcher to make sure he always gets sent to Harry’s address, it was worth it. Those few minutes talking to Harry on his doorstep were always the highlight of Louis’ week, and if he has to suffer the piss-taking of Frank the dispatcher to make it happen, so be it.
Harry’s just so beautiful. He’s tall, broad shouldered - muscled, Louis thinks, or at least imagines when he’s thinking about the man late at night, which is an all too regular occurrence. But he’s so soft too, all shy smiles and floppy curls, with these gorgeous fucking dimples for Christ sake, like he could be any cuter. He wears soft joggers and jumpers that make Louis want to nuzzle his nose into them like a freak.
And he’s sweet of course. He has a deep, soft voice, shining eyes and a lovely laugh, and Louis now makes it his mission to make the man giggle at least once with every exchange. He always succeeds, because Harry is so sweet that he would obviously put on a laugh so as not to upset Louis. Louis has no idea how Harry feels about him - no idea whether Harry has any feelings at all, whether he even really registers their exchanges, he’s just a delivery guy after all.
Louis isn’t obsessed. Definitely not. And he definitely doesn’t mess up his bedsheets and his shower screen thinking of Harry’s soft body writhing under him, crying out the man’s name, most days and nights. Nope. It's all FINE.
It's a Saturday, and it's nearly Christmas, and Louis is on the way to Harry’s, which isn’t unusual in itself, but what is odd is that he delivered there last night as well. Louis has no qualms at all about seeing Harry twice in a week of course, he’d love to see him every night if he could, but it is a bit strange because it's never happened before.
Harry’s ordered pizza, which again is a bit strange because usually he has something more adventurous like Lebanese, or sushi, or whatever the latest food fad is. So when Louis knocks on the door of the little terraced house, he’s a little worried already, and that triples when he lays eyes on the man.
Harry is in joggers and a jumper as always in the colder weather, but he’s buried his nose in the neck of it, and is peering at Louis with red rimmed eyes. His hair is dishevelled, and he has definitely been crying. Louis’ stomach drops. The urge to drop the food and envelop Harry in his arms is almost irresistible.
“Hey Louis,” Harry croaks, letting the jumper's neck drop from his face so that he can smile sadly at Louis. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Hiya,” Louis says tentatively. “Two nights in a row huh? Is your oven broken?” He aims for lighthearted but it comes out as if he’s genuinely concerned that Harry’s oven is broken, and he has to consciously stop himself rolling his eyes at his own lack of chill.
Harry chuckles weakly, trying for the kind giggle he always gives Louis, but failing. “Um, no, I just couldn’t really face cooking to be honest. You OK? It's cold out, you must be freezing.”
Just like Harry to be like this, Louis thinks. He’s obviously upset, and yet he’s concerned for Louis’ welfare out in the cold. Louis shakes his head and shrugs.
“I’m OK,” he says, “This coat is thick and you’re my last delivery tonight, so I can get home after this.”
Harry nods distractedly, and there are a few beats of silence. Louis holds back a sigh, realising that Harry isn’t very chatty tonight, and he’s about to excuse himself when Harry speaks again.
“S’been a tough day today,” he says quietly, almost a whisper, and Louis’ heart sinks again. “Just needed some comfort food.”
Louis nods seriously, and for the longest moment considers asking whether Harry wants to talk about it. But he’s just a delivery driver . A stranger really, they don’t know each other. It would be weird and creepy for Harry to talk to him about personal stuff. Harry would be freaked out by him even asking, probably.
So he sighs and says, “I’m sorry about that mate, I hope you’re OK. The pizza’ll cheer you up right? Carbs and that.”
Harry looks down at the pizza box now in his hand and nods sadly, glancing up at Louis and trying to smile again. “Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m sure it’ll help. Thanks Louis.”
Louis nods again, thrusts his hands into his pockets awkwardly and shifts from foot to foot a little. “Well, I’ll leave you to your dinner Harry. Take care yeah?” He looks seriously at the man, trying to convey that he really does want him to take care of himself. Harry just nods again sadly and closes the door.
His moped takes him about 100 yards round the corner before he screeches to a halt, almost breathless with the churning in his gut. He’s really worried about Harry, and he knows it's weird and intense but he can’t stop thinking about him. And he just remembered the ice cream he snaffled from the delivery before this one that gave him the wrong address so the food was spoiled.
He’d put the ice cream in the cool box to have later, and now he remembered that ice cream was what people ate when they were feeling down, right? Harry could use some ice cream right now. That was enough reason to go back, just to give a loyal customer some ice cream to help him through whatever it was that he was going through. That’s a reasonable thing to do right? Not weird or stalkery at all.
So he heads back, hoping to God that the ice cream hasn’t melted so that he doesn’t have an excuse any more. No, not an excuse, a reason.
He digs it out of the cool box and breathes out a relieved sigh when he sees it intact. It's cookies and cream, and he doesn’t know if Harry likes that but he feels like it's somehow the right flavour for the man.
He heads back to the door and knocks again, and this time when Harry answers it's very clear that he’s been crying literally just now. Louis shouldn’t have left him.
He feels a pang of guilt and anger at himself, almost as if he’s responsible for whatever Harry is upset about, and for a fleeting moment he hates himself, before reminding himself he’s just a fucking delivery driver and hasn’t actually done anything to hurt Harry.
“Louis?” Harry says rather wetly, sniffing noisily and rubbing his nose with a tissue. His red eyes are wide with surprise and confusion.
“Yeah, Hi, so I’m back,” Louis says, and before Harry can point out how obvious that is, Louis ploughs on. “I realised I had some ice cream in my cool box and I thought, since you’re such a loyal customer and that, you could have it. Goes well with pizza, and you know, like you said, er, comfort food…”
He trails off, thrusting the ice cream out so that Harry can see it's real and he’s not a madman.
“Because I’m a loyal customer?” Harry asks, a hint of amusement breaking through his sadness as he looks into Louis’ eyes. Louis swallows loudly, caught in the forest green gaze.
“Um, well, yeah. And also because you said you’d had a tough day.” He pauses, wondering whether to continue. He figures he’s already made a massive fool of himself, so what the hell. “I was just a bit worried about you, being on your own when you’re down.” He says it quietly, and watches as Harry’s expression softens.
“That’s so sweet Louis,” Harry says softly, and when his eyes fill with tears again Louis feels like his knees might give out.
He clears his throat and shrugs one shoulder. “If you- um, I was just thinking if you wanted someone to talk to about it- about whatever’s wrong, you know, then I could do that. Listen, I mean.”
Harry has a curious look on his face, and Louis’ not sure what to make of it. He backtracks, horribly embarrassed. “Yeah I mean that’s stupid isn’t it? You don’t want to pour your heart out to the delivery guy on your doorstep in the freezing cold, so, yeah. Just- just enjoy the ice cream Harry, OK?”
Harry’s expression hasn’t changed, and Louis’ about to turn and speed walk back to his moped to go and drive it off a cliff when the man finally speaks.
“Do you want to come in?” he asks tentatively, and Louis’ stomach swoops again, his face warming despite the frigid air.
“Yeah” he breathes, then stops, worry making him tense. “Wait, no! No, that's not right.”
Harry looks crestfallen and Louis panics. He is totally messing this up.
“Harry, no, I want to come in, I really do, but you don’t know me, you don’t know if it’s safe and I need you to be- I mean, you need to stay safe, you know?”
“Am I not safe with you Louis?” He asks quietly, and Louis tries not to groan with frustration and embarrassment.
“No! Shit, I mean yes , you’re definitely safe with me. Oh god I don’t know. I just worry- like, you shouldn’t invite strangers into your house!”
He stops abruptly and Harry smiles shyly, genuinely, for the first time all evening.
“I have never invited a stranger into my house before, Louis, and I never will again. But I trust you, somehow. It’s a risk, yes, but I’ve had the worst day and honestly, right now it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He pauses, looking pleadingly at Louis. “Please Louis, I could really use the company.”
And there is no way Louis can refuse him when he’s looking at him like that.
He digs his wallet out of his pocket. “Ok, Ok sure,” he says, producing his driving licence and handing it to Harry. The man looks at him like he’s insane.
“Just keep this until I leave ok? That way you’ve got my details and you know you can trust me coz I wouldn’t give you that if I was going to hurt you, right?” He knows it really makes no sense but he’s panicking, and wants Harry to really know he’s trustworthy.
Harry giggles, and shakes his head in exasperation and Louis fucking preens at the sound, grinning uncontrollably as Harry opens the door wide and ushers him inside with a smile.
“Just come in Louis, it’s fucking freezing,” he says, and Louis takes a breath before stepping inside.
The house is small, and warm, and Louis immediately feels his nose and fingers tingling from the sudden heat. He carefully removes his boots at the door, before following Harry down a narrow hallway and into a cosy lounge/diner, with an open fire in one wall surrounded by arm chairs, a soft sofa, blanket throws and copious cushions. The room is full of Christmas decorations, from the garlands hanging above the fireplace and on the walls, to the fluffy Father Christmas sitting on the hearth, to the numerous strings of fairy lights giving off a warm glow.
The dining space has a small, round, wooden table with four chairs, and Louis smiles as he spots some mistletoe hanging from the wide archway between the two rooms. There’s a door to a long galley kitchen, in which Louis can see the pizza box abandoned on the counter.
“You didn’t eat the pizza?” Louis asks, concern fizzing through him at the thought of Harry not eating. He frowns a little at the sensation, bemused by his instinctively protective reactions to the man in front of him.
“No, um, I cried a bit after you left,” Harry admits softly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Louis is about to reassure him when Harry starts fussing around him, telling him to take his coat off and take a seat. Louis sits at the table and gestures to the pizza box.
“You should eat Harry,” he says seriously, “don’t hold back because I’m here. You need to eat.” Harry gives him an unreadable look, but doesn't argue, heading into the kitchen and grabbing the box.
“It’s still warm,” he calls from the other room, and Louis listens to the clatter of plates and crockery. “You want a beer or some wine Lou?”
The shortened name makes Louis’ breath hitch and he curses himself for being so gone for this beautiful man that any sign of familiarity makes him have the kind of thoughts that are getting him way ahead of himself.
“A beer would be great, if that’s OK love,” he calls, and physically winces at the endearment, swearing under his breath at his own awkwardness. The kitchen falls silent for a few seconds, and when Harry reappears he is bright pink and blinking as if in some sort of shock.
He carefully places the pizza and plates down, avoids eye contact with Louis and pops back to the kitchen to grab the beer. He hands a bottle to Louis and settles into the chair opposite him, with a full wine glass in his own hand.
When he eventually makes eye contact with Louis he flushes again, and Louis can only hope it's for good, nice reasons and not that he’s petrified he’s invited some over-familiar, creepy weirdo into his house.
Louis picks up a pizza slice and puts it on a plate, pushing it in front of Harry and nodding at it to encourage him. He really doesn’t know why he’s so obsessed with Harry eating but he can’t seem to help it, and he feels it in his muscles when Harry takes a bite, relief washing through him.
Louis has always had strong caregiver urges, but hasn’t felt the need to care for someone quite this intensely before, except maybe for his siblings when they’re having a hard time. But this is so different - and not just because of the obvious physical attraction. Louis mulls it over as he watches Harry eat in silence, trying not to watch his mouth as he sips his wine.
He knows Harry’s a grown man who can look after himself, that much is obvious. The house is really nice, cosy and cluttered but stylish, obviously designed by someone with a good eye. Up until tonight, Harry has been confident and funny, an intelligent, put together man who Louis has found deeply attractive. So he knows Harry doesn’t need him at all, and yet the instinct to look after him is so strong Louis can’t control it, not like he normally can.
“So,” Louis breaks the silence to try and dampen the emotion that’s bubbling up in him. “You want to talk about your bad day?”
Harry is on his second slice now, and something in Louis settles knowing he has food in his belly. He sips his wine and looks at Louis intently, as if trying to work something out.
“My boyfriend dumped me,” he blurts after a long pause, and several things happen at once in Louis’ brain:
YESSSS, he’s gay!
Rebound shag?
NO LOUIS, CHRIST WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU.
Oh, he’s hurting and I want to cuddle him so much.
Stop looking at him like that, you'll freak him out.
Louis coughs and tears his eyes away from Harry’s for a second to regain his composure. “Shit,” he says, half in response and half at himself. “I’m so sorry Harry, but honestly, it's very much his loss.”
He says it so earnestly that Harry giggles, and that familiar warm feeling floods through Louis at the sound. Harry shrugs a shoulder.
“I don’t know about that,” he says, sadness crossing his face again. “I’m harder work than you might think.” He looks so forlorn that Louis has to clench his fists and hold them on his thighs to stop himself reaching out to him.
“I don’t believe that,” he says firmly, and leans forward a little to encourage Harry to look at him. When he eventually raises his eyes, Louis smiles. “I know we don’t really know each other Harry, but I’m a good judge of character, and I can tell you’re a good person. What did this boyfriend of yours say to you to make you think otherwise?”
Louis is aware that he just said the word boyfriend as if it was a dirty word, but his anger is rising at whoever has made Harry feel shit about himself. Harry is looking at him again with that curious, assessing look, and Louis isn’t sure what to make of it, so he stays quiet and waits it out.
Eventually Harry nods very slightly, and Louis thinks maybe he’s decided something about Louis, and he feels calmed by it somehow, even though he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on in Harry’s head.
“I have-” Harry pauses again, twisting his face slightly as if trying to decide how to word something. “I am needy , I guess.” Louis guesses he looks sceptical because Harry smiles slightly before he continues. “To be fair to Brad, my boyfr- Shit, my ex,” Harry shakes his head sadly, “he’s not wrong. I know I’m a lot.”
Louis shakes his head as if to protest, but Harry holds up a hand. “Seriously, I have particular, um, traits that can be difficult to deal with if you’re not a particular sort of person.”
Louis is really confused, but refuses to believe that Harry is difficult or hard work in any way. He really wants to understand, and despite knowing it's probably weird to press too much, he can’t help it.
“What sort of traits?” he asks as gently as he can. “You don’t have to tell me but honestly, I’d love to know, to help, if I can?”
That assessing look is back, and this time Harry turns his body slightly so that he’s facing Louis more before he speaks. He breathes out as if steeling himself.
“OK, yeah, OK. Why not?” he says, almost to himself. “So, what do you know about kinks Louis? I mean, not the really pervy ones!” he follows up immediately, giggling slightly and flushing. “But you know, um, have you heard of people having a praise kink?”
Louis manages to nod, as things start to fall into place. He doesn’t want to assume though, so he tries to remain calm despite his brain shouting OH MY GOD OH MY GOD HE HAS A PRAISE KINK AND I’M GONNA PRAISE HIM UNTIL HE COMES UNTOUCHED JUST FROM THAT.
“I know a bit about kinks,” he says, amazed that he’s managed to keep his voice level while controlling his shouty, filthy brain. “And just so you know, I know a lot about praise kinks.”
Harry’s mouth drops open at the emphasis and his face goes bright pink, up into his hairline and down his neck. He’s quiet while he stares at Louis, and Louis realises he needs to grab this moment - because if he doesn’t he might not get this opportunity ever again.
“I have my own kinks Harry. You want to know what they are?” he says as calmly as he can, and Harry nods, eyes wide and mouth open slightly. “The main ones, amongst others, are giving praise, and caretaking.”
“Oh,” Harry manages, whispering the word and leaving his mouth in an O shape for a few seconds. Louis smiles, keeping his face calm despite his thumping heart.
Louis debates saying something about Harry’s beautiful eyes, or his pink, soft lips, or maybe just what a gorgeous person he is, but decides to let things settle a little before jumping in. He knows at this moment though, that he wants Harry as his own. He wants to care for him, praise him, give the man everything he needs and more. He cannot let Harry slip through his fingers.
“It sounds like this Brad,” he spits the name derisively, “just didn’t understand what it takes to take care of you properly. Do you mind telling me how your praise kink manifests?” he asks, and Harry leans forward keenly, nodding and straightening his back. He’s like a child, Louis thinks, finally being given permission to tell his story.
“Yes, I- I like to be praised a lot,” he breathes, eyes still wide with apprehension and hope, “but, um, it's a bit more than just compliments.” Louis nods to encourage him to continue. “I kinda need praise for most things, you know? Like, if I get up on time for work or make breakfast or dinner, or when I choose an outfit, or like, even if I just say something funny. I need it all the time Louis. I wasn’t lying when I said it's a lot.”
Louis leans forward, puts his elbows on the table and gazes at Harry. He knows what he wants to say, but it’s far too soon, so he’s not sure how to progress.
“Sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” is what he goes with, keeping it light and playful, hoping to convey that he’s not phased by any of it. “I don’t see what’s so difficult about praising someone as enchanting as you.”
Louis knew his words would have an effect, but couldn’t have predicted the intensity of Harry’s reaction. He gasps first, then puts a shaky hand to his mouth. His face flushes even deeper than before, and tears spring to his eyes. He licks his parted lips and his pupils dilate as Louis watches.
Louis has had plenty of partners with praise kinks, he sought them out to feed his own urge to care, but he’s never met anyone so affected by it. Harry is panting slightly now, and Louis can tell he’s trying to regain his composure as he looks away, swallowing thickly and shaking his head.
Louis lets him have a few moments, aware that the situation they are in must be intense - the man has just been dumped and is now discussing mutual kinks with the delivery guy who he’s only ever had five minute conversations with. It doesn’t take too long before Louis knows what he has to do.
“Harry,” he says tentatively, “would you like to come out with me some time?” He waits while Harry registers what he’s said, aware that the man is already slightly fuzzy. Louis realises he needs to be careful with that, Harry obviously goes into subspace easily. So he waits, smiling as Harry processes, his body warming as he lets out that gorgeous giggle that Louis already adores.
“Yes, I’d really like that,” Harry says, sitting forward a little more so that he’s on the edge of the seat. “When? I’m not working tomorrow, we could meet tomorrow? You could come here again maybe, or, I could come to you of course, although I don’t know where you live, but you could give me the address and I could come to you. Or we could go out somewhere too, whatever you want. I will do whatever you want, Louis.”
He’s breathing hard now, overwhelmed and floaty, and Louis places a gentle hand over his on the table. The effect is immediate, and Harry’s body seems to slump slightly at the contact, the tension leaving him and his eyes glazing a little more.
Baby. The urge to say it is so strong Louis has to bite his lip to stop himself.
“Hey, Harry, look at me,” he says instead, and Harry does, focus returning a little as he gazes into Louis’ eyes. “Let’s meet for brunch tomorrow, yeah? You know that cafe on the corner of Cross Street?”
Harry nods vaguely. “The one with the pretty macarons in the window?” he says, and Louis can’t help but chuckle fondly at his childlike response.
“Yes, sweetheart, that one,” he knows it's soon for fond names but he can tell Harry is floating, and wants to try and bring him back a little before he leaves. “Let's meet there, yeah? Tell me what time you can get up and get ready, Harry.”
He wants Harry to focus, needs to know he’s not going to float away when Louis has to go. He’s desperate to just stay and take care of the man, but he can’t, it's too much too soon and Harry needs to process tonight and decide if he really wants to see Louis again. Plus, Louis doesn’t just want Harry to want him because of a kink. He wants Harry to actually like him too, to enjoy his company.
“Harry?” he presses gently, and Harry frowns a little, obviously trying to think clearly.
“Um, I get up early Lou,” he says, still childlike but more lucid. “I do yoga, you see, just over there in the lounge.” He points to the corner where Louis can see a rolled up mat tucked next to an armchair. He nods encouragingly.
“That’s brilliant Harry,” he says, opting for praise that’s not too intense. “What time shall we say then?” Harry seems to be back with him; his eyes are clear now, but the look of awe remains on his expressive face.
“Um, is 10 OK?” He says, and Louis agrees, pleased that Harry is back and that he can leave without worrying about him too much.
“10 it is then, meet you there!” He gets up and grabs his jacket, heading to the door as Harry follows quietly. As he’s putting on his boots, Harry stands in the hall, shifting awkwardly and wringing his hands in front of him.
“You could, um, stay a bit longer if you wanted?” he asks, and Louis straightens, turning to him fully.
“I think it's best if I go now Harry,” he says as kindly as he can. “I feel like we both need a bit of time to, er, collect ourselves.” Harry giggles and Louis puts a hand out to him, resting it lightly on his forearm. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow though,” he says, and tries to memorise the look on Harry’s flushed, beautiful face.
As he opens the door and goes to leave he can’t help but turn back. “Harry, will you promise me you’ll eat a little more please? You can reheat the pizza if it's gone cold. And have some of that ice cream too?” He knows he might be pushing it, but his urge to make sure Harry is OK is so powerful that he just can’t stop himself.
Harry lowers his head and fails to hide a beaming smile, but he nods and mumbles a promise, before Louis gives him a little wave, and closes the door behind him, leaving the most beautiful man he’s ever seen alone to hopefully decide that Louis is someone he wants to see again.
It doesn’t take him long to get home, and he has a quick shower before dropping onto his bed naked, face first, spread eagle and a bit overwhelmed by it all. His phone pings and he groans, hoping it's not Frank trying to persuade him into a late night delivery. He’s confused when Harry’s name pops up, before he remembers that Harry has his number because of the deliveries - Louis usually texts to let customers know he’s on his way, or is outside, or whatever.
Louis saved Harry’s number many months ago, and is faintly embarrassed by what he called the contact.
Dimples: I hope you didn’t get stopped on your way home, I still have your driving licence… 🤭
Louis grins, warmth spreading over his entire body as he reads and rereads the message. He really wants to tell Harry what a good boy he is for letting him know, or tell him how sweet he is for caring. Actually, what he really wants to say is “you’re so fucking perfect Harry, I don’t know how I got lucky enough to meet you and now all I want to do is treat you like the precious jewel you are,” but he figures that really is too much. So instead he replies with:
Louis: 😂 No arrests thankfully. You’ll just have to bring it tomorrow when we meet at 10, yeah?
Dimples: Definitely, I can’t wait. I’ve had some more pizza btw, and I’m having a bit of ice cream now.
Fuck. How can he not say good boy ? He has to. Harry wants him to, Louis can tell. Can he risk it? Before he does something stupid, he responds.
Louis: Well done Harry, that’s great! You should get some sleep once you’ve had the ice cream.
Dimples: OK, I will. I promise.
Louis’ not sure what to say now, so he forces himself to put the phone down for a bit as he pulls on some sleep shorts and gets himself comfy in bed. He resists the urge to check in on Harry, and eventually starts to drop off. He’s woken by another message alert and he grabs his phone, suddenly wide awake.
Dimples: I’m in bed now Lou. Just wanted to say thank you for this evening, and I’m so looking forward to tomorrow. Good night.
Louis has to concentrate on breathing for a second, the thought of Harry in bed, because Louis told him to sleep, almost too much for his desire-addled brain to cope with.
Louis: Glad to hear it love. Can’t wait to see you too! Sleep tight.
Harry immediately hearts the message, and Louis smiles, snuggling down into the covers as he rereads the whole exchange over and over, until sleep finally takes him.
***********************************
Harry hasn’t slept so well in the last couple of years, he thinks. He’s not a hundred percent sure its the reason, but Louis telling him to go to sleep last night in that message made him instantly drowsy, and he had quickly finished his ice cream, yawning and barely able to keep his eyes open as he’d brushed his teeth and got into his PJs.
By the time he’d got into bed he could hardly manage the final message he’d sent Louis, but the need to tell the man that he’d been good , that he’d followed Louis’ instructions, was too strong to ignore. He’d pouted when Louis hadn’t called him a good boy, but he had said he was glad to hear Harry was in bed, and that was good enough to let him slip into sleep within moments.
He’d woken refreshed and buzzing, and his yoga didn’t calm him the way it usually did, although Harry didn’t mind. He was so excited about seeing Louis again that there was no way he was going to find that zen-like headspace that yoga usually offered.
He’d fancied Louis since the very first time the man had turned up on his doorstep and handed him his sushi. Those piercing blue eyes had met his and held them, for a few moments longer than was comfortable, and Harry had blushed like a schoolgirl and mumbled a thanks.
If Louis hadn’t chatted first Harry was convinced he never would have plucked up the courage to start a conversation, so it was overwhelming when Louis had asked him how his week had been with that gravelly, lilting voice of his, that sent shivers down Harry’s spine.
He’d started ordering takeaway every single Friday, or Saturday if he went out with Brad on the Friday, just so he could have a chat with Louis. He didn’t really like takeaways all that much in truth, so he’d tried lots of different things just to mix things up a bit. Louis had taken charge of the chats, thank God, and each week they got a little bit more relaxed with each other.
He didn’t know much about Louis at all really, and because he’d been with Brad he’d made sure not to be too flirty or over familiar, as that felt wrong. But he’d found out Louis was delivering food to pay his way through University, where he was doing a Masters in Music Production.
Harry had been so impressed by that, he was a keen singer - amateur of course - and was fascinated with the music industry and the way songs were made. Louis already had a few production jobs under his belt, and his reputation was growing, but it wasn’t paying the bills yet, and delivering food allowed him to go to Uni, head to the studio as and when he needed to, and work in the evenings.
Over the weeks, Harry had expressed concern for Louis’ busy life but the confident, impressive man had waved his concerns away as if they were nothing. He was so damn hot when he was cocky, Harry decided, and had soon started bantering with Louis just to witness him taking charge of the conversation.
Harry realises as he showers that he’s barely thought about Brad all morning.
His ex-boyfriend had come over earlier than usual yesterday, arriving late morning and surprising Harry, which had made for a stressful half an hour while Harry insisted on making them breakfast even though Brad said he didn’t want any.
He’d been cold and distant, which wasn’t unusual, and Harry had been desperate to please him, the compulsion to earn the praise of his boyfriend so intense that he couldn’t settle. Brad had lost patience with him quickly, and it hadn’t taken long before he was announcing that it was over.
Just like that, after over a year of dating, it was done. Harry had only just managed to stop himself begging, like the pathetic loser he was.
He’d known for a while that Brad wasn’t the one, and if he’s honest with himself, the reason he was so upset wasn’t because he is going to miss Brad himself, it’s more that he just can't see how he could ever find anyone who really understands him and accepts him for who he is. Someone who can give him what he so desperately needs, and someone who he can give himself to in return.
All he wants really, is to be loved and to be in love.
He’d ordered pizza because he couldn’t think of what else to eat and couldn’t face cooking, and it was only when he’d opened the door that he’d remembered that by ordering food, he’d get Louis turning up on his doorstep again. He’d been so happy to see the stunningly gorgeous man that he’d almost blurted out a desperate plea for him to stay.
He’d burst into tears again when Louis had left, and when he knocked again 10 minutes later, supposedly to give him free ice cream, there was no way he was letting him go again without finding out why he’d really come back.
The revelation that Louis had a caregiving kink - a giving praise kink - almost sent Harry into his subspace on the spot. It had been so embarrassing, but Louis had not only taken it completely in his stride, he’d then asked Harry out.
Harry has never been so excited about any date, ever, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’s finally found someone who is actually compatible with his weirdness. The fizzing excitement and arousal at the thought of Louis praising him has an edge to it though - it’s all very well sharing kinks, but Harry wants something long-term, a proper relationship, and he wants to be valued as a person.
So he does some breathing exercises to calm his racing heart and his fattening cock, before deciding what to wear, giving himself a good talking to about staying calm, not getting ahead of himself, and making sure that Louis isn’t just after some kinky sex.
The thought of kinky sex doesn’t help with the situation in his trousers so he focuses as best he can on choosing the best outfit possible.
It’s lucky he got up so early, because it turns out finding an outfit that’s suitable for winter whilst also being cute, appropriate for brunch, stylish, and irresistibly hot is almost impossible. When he eventually decides it’s more out of necessity than anything, as it’s 09:30 am and he really doesn’t want to be late for Louis.
He’s gone with baggy, ripped jeans over his converse trainers, a green and pink sweater vest with a dark pink blazer on top. Just before he leaves he suddenly decides it’s not sexy enough, and quickly removes his shirt, leaving him bare-chested under the sweater vest.
He’s going to be freezing, but fuck it.
Throwing on the warmest coat he owns, wrapping a long, soft scarf around his neck and grabbing a face mask left over from the pandemic to keep his nose from going red from cold, he leaves the house, nerves bubbling in anticipation. A bitter wind makes him regret his outfit choices for a moment, but just as he shuts his front door, his phone pings, and suddenly he is hot all over.
Louis: Morning love, I hope you slept well. I’m on my way to the cafe, if you get there first try and grab the table at the back by the window. And wrap up warm Harry, it's cold outside. See you soon. x
There’s nothing remotely suggestive or particularly intimate about the message, but the heat it provokes in Harry, just by its tone, keeps him cosy all the way to the cafe.
He arrives before Louis, and is thrilled that the table he had suggested is free. He grabs it before it goes, and takes off his coat, mask and scarf, arranging his necklaces and the vest to highlight his tattooed collarbones. Shameless really, but Harry is nothing if not determined, and he is going to make Louis the delivery guy want him.
When the door jingles and he glances up, Harry can’t breathe for a second. Louis is even better looking in normal clothes instead of his bike jacket. He’s wearing a smart overcoat, jeans and a dark turtleneck, his bright blue eyes scanning the room before they land on Harry. He smiles, and Harry’s stomach swoops at how happy this stunning man looks to see him.
“Harry,” he breathes as he sits down, and Harry fixates on the way he removes his thick leather gloves a finger at time. As he does so, he reveals tattooed fingers, and Harry feels tingles up his spine as he imagines that hand around his wrist, his cock, his neck…
He snaps back to reality as Louis repeats himself. “Harry, are you OK, love?” the man is asking with a concerned look, and Harry blushes furiously, as if Louis can tell exactly what he’d been thinking.
“Sorry, yes, I’m good,” he manages, smiling shyly and glancing down at Louis' hand again. When he flicks his eyes back up, Louis is smirking, and now Harry thinks he actually can tell exactly what he’d been thinking.
Figuring that he is going to spend the entire brunch blushing anyway, Harry gives up fighting it and giggles, shrugging slightly and widening his eyes as if to say sorry, I can’t help it. Louis’ answering flush is worth every ounce of embarrassment Harry feels.
They chat rather awkwardly about what to order, and when the waiter comes over they both have to make a decision and stop staring at each other. They order, and once the hot chocolate has been placed in front of them both, the tension seems to ease a little.
They talk. And talk. And talk more, about Brad and work, and Louis’ Uni course, and his plans for the future, and Harry’s dream of opening his own bakery instead of just being Head Baker for one. They talk so much that when the food arrives Harry is a little disappointed to have to stop talking and eat, and by the look on Louis’ face, he suspects the gorgeous man feels the same.
They eat in comfortable quiet for a while, before Harry has a realisation.
“I don't know your last name!” he says, and Louis smiles so that his eyes crinkle. Harry is so gone for this man.
“It's Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says, and exaggeratedly offers his hand across the table. “Pleased to meet you. Harry…?”
Harry giggles, taking the hand and shaking it. “Styles, Harry Styles. Pleased to meet you too, Louis Tomlinson.”
Still smiling, Louis puts his fork down and leans forward. “Harry Styles, hm?” he says in a fake posh voice, “of the London Styles dynasty?” Louis takes a paper napkin from the table, shaking it out before tucking it into his turtleneck so that it sticks out at an angle. He pulls a cartoonishly posh face and raises his eyebrows questioningly.
Harry can’t stop his giggles, and he knows he’s spluttering over his food like a love-struck teenager but he can’t seem to care. “No, not the London Styles’s” he says as derisively as he can manage, mirroring Louis’ fake posh accent. “I’ll have you know I come from the Cheshire branch of the family.”
“Oooh Cheshire! Proper posh!” Louis says in his normal voice now, eyes twinkling mischievously, making Harry giggle again.
“Ha, not really,” he replies, “we’re not really posh, but, you know, we lived in a nice house and stuff.” He wants to tell Louis more, but isn’t sure if it will bore the man. It appears he doesn’t need to worry about that though.
“Who’s we?” Louis asks, entirely focused on Harry. “Parents, siblings?”
“My Mum, and my sister, Gemma. Dad too sometimes but he and Mum are divorced, so most of the time it was just the three of us.” Louis nods seriously, and Harry wonders if he’s looking for signs of distress about the divorce, so he elaborates.
“Dad and I have a pretty decent relationship, I’m not as close to him as Mum, but it's all good.”
“Good,” Louis says, and Harry preens internally that the man cares. “I’m from Doncaster originally, and I have bloody loads of sisters. It’s chaos and I don’t know how Mum copes really.” He’s smiling despite the faux grumpy tone, and Harry can see love in his eyes as he talks about his family.
“And your Dad?” he asks carefully, aware that Louis hadn’t mentioned him.
Louis shakes his head and shrugs. “Not around, I don’t know him, don’t want to. My Mum gave me everything I needed. Mark, that’s the girls’ Dad - has been more of a Dad to me than anyone really.”
“How many girls are there?” Harry asks curiously, and his stomach swoops as Louis’ expression softens into one of total fondness.
“Four would you believe? Lottie’s the eldest, then Felicite, we call her Fizz, then the twins, Phoebe and Daisy.” He pauses and looks intently at Harry. “They’d love you Harry, I’d love you to meet them some time.”
Harry’s heart is racing. Louis wants to introduce him to his family and right now Harry wants to cry or whimper or something equally embarrassing.
“I’d like that too,” he squeaks, and honestly, he is impressed he managed to get words out at all so a squeak is something to be proud of at this stage.
They talk for over an hour, about family, their childhoods, school, and every single thing Harry says is treated as if it's the most interesting thing Louis has ever heard. The really miraculous thing though, is that Harry thinks he really means it.
The only minor disagreement comes when it's time to pay. Louis insists he should, Harry refuses, they bicker fondly for a few minutes before deciding to split the bill. As they leave, Harry grabs his coat and drapes it over his arm, when Louis stops him, his hand resting on his bicep. The contact makes Harry’s breath hitch.
“Baby, its cold outside, put your coat on,” Louis says, and Harry whimpers at the fond name - he actually fucking whimpers like the pathetic wimp he is, his face bright pink. He fish-mouths a bit, while Louis chuckles and helps him into his coat. Louis picks up the scarf and hooks it round Harry’s neck, holding it and pulling Harry into him, very slightly.
“Good boy,” he says quietly, holding Harry’s gaze with his blue, blue eyes. Harry doesn’t know what to do. He’s suddenly too hot and his skin is prickling, and he is feeling hazy like he’s going to go into subspace just from a couple of words.
And his cock is hard. Like, not just a semi, properly hard.
“Um,” he croaks, “can we go back to mine now Louis. Please.” Louis looks at him like he’s dinner, which really doesn’t help the cock situation, and before Harry knows it he’s being ushered out of the door and into the cold.
The Christmas lights and beautiful shop windows that Harry enjoyed on the way to the cafe are a blur to him now, he’s so desperate to get home and do whatever it is that Louis is currently thinking about.
Because God, the man has this look on his face every time he makes eye contact, and Harry thinks that if he says one thing that remotely counts as praise right now, Harry might actually come in his pants.
They get home in record time, and Harry gets them inside quickly. They are in the hall when the awkwardness returns. Louis suddenly seems tentative - unsure even, like he’s waiting for Harry to do or say something. But Harry is so gone, that he needs Louis to take charge, and doesn’t quite know how to ask for it.
Once their shoes are off and they are in the lounge Louis finally breaks the silence, a smile breaking out on his face as he looks up.
“Mistletoe,” he says, nodding upwards to draw Harry’s attention to it.
This is it. Is this it? God please let this be it.
Harry giggles and nods, moving in front of Louis and looking up with him at the white-berried greenery hanging from the arch. When he looks down again, Louis is gazing at him, and as he watches, the beautiful blue eyes drop to his lips.
Harry leans in, and when their lips touch he feels like he might die - his heart is thumping and he can feel himself heating up. Plus, his erection is getting really uncomfortable.
The kiss goes from chaste to dirty in no time at all, and their hands explore each other urgently. Jackets are removed and Harry’s sweater vest is rucked up to reveal his tattooed stomach, which makes Louis moan.
“Jesus Harry, you’re stunning,” he breathes, and Harry can’t help but shudder with the praise, his body and mind responding viscerally, not just to the words, but to the utter sincerity in Louis’ tone. Harry’s reaction seems to make Louis pause, and Harry momentarily panics that he’s going to decide not to fuck the living daylights out of him after all.
“Look at me Harry,” Louis says, and Harry realises he’s closed his eyes. He opens them and surreptitiously crosses his fingers at his sides, for luck. “If you want me to, baby,” Louis says quietly, “I can give you everything you need. Will you let me?”
Well thank fucking GOD for that .
Harry nods furiously, making Louis laugh, and usher him towards the stairs. “Bedroom baby, lead the way,” he says, and Harry concentrates on breathing and not falling up the stairs as they ascend.
When they reach the bedroom Louis takes control with a practised ease that makes Harry feel safer than he’s ever felt with anyone, and it's the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him.
“Take your clothes off Harry. Let me see that beautiful body of yours,” Louis says calmly, as he removes his turtleneck, revealing his tattooed, toned chest. He’s stunning, and as Harry quickly obeys, he can’t take his eyes off the beauty in front of him.
Harry is in only his boxers when self consciousness creeps in, and he flushes, realising that Louis is studying every inch of him, every bump and flaw. He suddenly wants to hide his little pudge at his sides and the blemishes on his shoulders from this gorgeous man, and he curls his shoulders in slightly.
Louis notices immediately. “Ah-ah,” he scolds gently, “none of that. Let me see you baby. Boxers off.” Despite his uneasiness he can’t not obey, so he slides his boxers down, but keeps his gaze fixed low, his cheeks flushing.
He feels Louis walk over to him and lift his chin with one of those sinful tattooed fingers.
“Look at me baby,” he murmurs, and Harry does. And he’s glad he does because that look is back, the look that makes Harry’s insides churn with want and makes him want to float away. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, Harry,” Louis says, and it's the most serious he’s looked since Harry met him. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not, got it?”
Louis kisses him, and the tension leaves him, and he believes it. He believes he’s beautiful because this amazing man is telling him so, and he’s telling the truth.
“You are gorgeous,” Louis murmurs, kissing him again, “and clever,” he kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth, “and sexy,” his jaw this time, “and funny,” his neck now, and Harry can barely stand any more, and his poor aching cock is harder than it's ever been.
“And your cock is delectable, baby,” Louis murmurs as his mouth trails to a nipple, and when he sucks it into his mouth, biting slightly and tugging with his teeth, Harry lets out what can only be described as a desperate wail.
He really might come soon, the combination of Louis words and the slow, teasing attention he’s getting taking him far too close to the edge. As embarrassing as it would be to come completely untouched, Harry can barely bring himself to care. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and no one has even had a hand job yet.
Louis’ chuckles make things even worse, the man sounds devilish, and Harry is relieved when he’s instructed to lie down on the bed on his back. He lets out a shaky sigh as he does so, and Louis surveys him, still standing at his side.
“Fuck,” Louis says under his breath, “look at you.”
It's too much.
“I’m close,” Harry grates out, trying hard to calm his overheated body, trying to resist the waves of pleasure that flood through him every time Louis speaks. The blue eyes widen, and Louis raises his eyebrows high.
“Yeah?” he asks, full of wonder. “Gonna come for me baby? Gonna paint that exquisite chest white, just from me telling you how fucking amazing you are?” He’s smiling with this look of determination on his face, and Harry wants so much to please him, but isn’t sure he can.
Louis can tell though, is the thing. It's like he can read Harry’s mind, because as soon as the thought appears Louis is lowering himself onto the bed, running soft hands down his chest and lowering his mouth to the other nipple, biting and licking.
Harry moans, and Louis whispers into his skin. “Want you to come untouched for me baby,” he says, “you’re such a good boy, I know you can do it.”
The kissing and biting is taking effect now, and even though Louis hasn’t touched his cock or hole Harry is getting closer by the second. He can feel his orgasm building, and it's the strangest feeling, this slow swell of pleasure. He’s never felt anything quite like it before, and it's overwhelming in the best way.
Louis’ mouth and hands roam his most sensitive zones, his neck, sides, wrists, his ears and his nipples. He can feel his body tensing and relaxing in waves as the peak slowly approaches.
Louis’ mouth is by his ear now, his hand pinching and twisting his nipples again, making Harry gasp.
“I know you can do it baby, come on. You’re the most incredible boy I’ve ever met. So beautiful. So sexy. So fucking obscene. ”
It's the last words that finally do it. The orgasm hits Harry in these drawn out waves, that are so intense that all he can do is whimper through it as his body convulses slowly, come spurting up his chest and hitting Louis’ hand which is harshly twisting a nipple.
His body ripples with pleasure, and it takes what feels like an eternity for the waves to pass enough that he can open his eyes. When he does, he finds Louis looking at him in awe, hand resting on his chest now and his eyes roaming Harry’s body, seemingly mesmerised by what he’s just seen.
Harry wonders what Louis is going to say to this unusual situation.
“Shit. Fucking hell, Harry, I swear to all things holy, that is the hottest fucking thing I have ever fucking seen,” is what he goes with, and it may not be eloquent but it makes Harry almost cry with happiness. He isn’t able to string a sentence together yet, but he knows what he wants.
“Fuck me,” he manages, and Louis grins, suddenly jumping up and almost ripping his jeans off his body in his haste to oblige.
Harry is panting, still coming down from one of the most intense, and weirdest orgasms of his life, so he is slightly taken aback when Louis heads to the bottom of the bed, standing there in all his naked glory. Harry can’t take his eyes off Louis’ cock, which is hard and upright against his stomach. It's big, and Harry has never really found cocks that attractive in truth, they’re generally funny looking things, but this one makes his mouth water.
It's long and thick, and Harry wants it in him as quickly as possible, please and thank you.
Louis lifts one of Harry’s feet and kisses it, making him squirm a little, ticklish. Harry’s eyes widen as Louis continues up his ankle, peppering kisses and licks along the inside of his calf. When he gets to the knee he goes back to the other foot and does the same, before settling himself on the end of the bed, spreading Harry’s legs and starting to do the same to Harry’s trembling thighs.
Harry is determined not to come untouched again, that would be so pathetic, but Jesus Christ.
The kisses and licks are bad enough, but Louis is murmuring to himself the whole time, and Harry can make out words like “gorgeous” and “fucking beautiful” and “sexy” and “how did I get so fucking lucky,” and Harry can barely cope with this level of stimulation.
He’s never been so bombarded with praise - he’s always known about his kink, right from the first time a partner called him sexy he knew his reaction to it wasn’t completely normal, but because he’d never met anyone who’s own kink was praise giving , he’d never dreamed an experience could be this intense.
Harry’s squirming and moaning with abandon now, and Louis is relentless, avoiding his cock but kissing up his inner thighs, pushing his knees up, and before Harry even realises what’s happening he feels a wet, hot tongue against his hole. It takes every ounce of self control not to come again, and he only manages it because Louis’ mouth is busy, so he can’t actually speak for the moment.
Louis’ tongue laps at him, prodding teasingly before flattening and swiping up from his hole to his balls, and Harry can only whimper and whine, unable to focus on anything but the man between his legs, and how much he wants to get fucked.
Louis takes his time, and Harry can’t, he just can’t. “Please,” he whines, his voice so weak it doesn’t sound like his own. “Please.” He can’t come up with anything else, and just hopes Louis knows what he means. The trouble is, his plea makes Louis talk again.
“Oh baby,” he says, voice thick with longing, face wet with spit. “You taste so fucking good baby, I could eat you all day.” Harry preens and sobs a bit, it's just so much.
“Need me to fuck you huh?” Louis is smirking now, and he reaches over to the bedside table, opening the drawer and fumbling around until he pulls out condoms and lube - looking triumphant. If Harry were lucid enough he’d ask how he knew they’d be there, but Louis reads his mind again. “Love that you’ve got all the necessities where I’d expect them. Such a good boy Harry, so perfect for me. So fucking amazing.”
Louis quickly puts on the condom and lubes himself up, pulling at his cock a few times and hissing at the sensation - Harry almost feels sorry for him, he’s so hard and it must ache, he hasn’t even been touched this whole time.
As Louis lines himself up to thrust in, he curls his fist round Harry’s cock, which is hard and leaking against his tummy, gripping the base, somehow guessing that Harry would probably come too quickly if he didn’t.
Holding it tightly, Louis pushes in painfully slowly, and Harry stops breathing. The stretch is delicious and overwhelming - and Louis doesn’t stop pushing, even though Harry thinks he might actually need him to, just for a second. But he doesn’t stop, he pushes in millimetre by millimetre, until Harry can feel his balls pressing against him.
Harry thinks Louis may have the biggest cock he’s ever felt, but either way he knows he will never want to be fucked by any other cock, ever again.
Louis doesn’t give Harry enough time to adjust and it's perfect, Harry just wants to be ruined , and Louis seems to be able to read him like a book. When he starts thrusting, it's only his firm grip on the base of Harry’s cock that stops him coming on the spot, and Harry is hazy, knows his subspace is approaching, but he wants to feel every moment of this before he floats away.
“M’slipping,” he slurs, and Louis hesitates for a second before slowing his rhythm down to long, deep strokes.
“So beautiful, feeling floaty, gorgeous boy?” he asks fondly, and Harry nods, moaning and arching, tipping his hips up to meet Louis’.
“Wanna feel it,” he mumbles, hoping Louis understands, knowing he will, somehow.
“OK baby, I’ve got you,” he says soothingly, and suddenly his pace is increasing, and he’s ramming into Harry hard, hitting his prostate on every thrust. Harry keens, because that’s all he can do, and now Louis’ hand isn’t gripping the base of his cock anymore, it's moving, fast and firm, and Harry’s orgasm barrels into him like a train.
His whole body convulses and spasms as Louis fucks him through it, and it only takes a few more snaps of his hips before Louis is groaning and swearing, his face a beautiful mask of pleasure and awe above Harry as he comes.
Louis slumps on top of him, and Harry tries to lift his arms to embrace the man, unable to speak but wanting to thank him for the most incredible experience of his life. He can’t though, he’s so floaty and his body won’t cooperate. Louis lifts himself slightly, still inside Harry, and smiles down at him.
“S’OK baby,” he whispers, “just let go, float away, you’re safe, I’m here. I’ll be here when you come back.”
Harry floats.
And as reality fades he doesn’t really register Louis as he continues to whisper to him.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. M’gonna stay for as long as you’ll let me.”
******************************
Louis isn’t in love.
He can’t be, it's only been about 24 hours since the first time he had a conversation with Harry that lasted longer than 5 minutes. He doesn’t believe that real love happens this quickly.
But the thing is.
Harry is lying there, obviously down, and Louis has cleaned him up gently, and has gathered snacks and water from downstairs. He knows he should start to bring Harry back, knows that spending too long in subspace can leave people tired and fuzzy afterwards, and he knows Harry has work tomorrow, but right now he needs time to process.
He needs time because he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before. Gazing at the beautiful man in front of him, the thought of being anywhere but next to him fills Louis with a gut wrenching dread. The thought of Harry not feeling the same way? Louis can’t bear it. Feels physically sick at the thought.
He knows it can’t be love. But what if it is?
His brain is working a mile a minute, imagining how he will take care of Harry, how he will fill the man’s life with love and praise, how he will make sure that Harry really knows how amazing he is, in every minute of every day.
He’s not sure whether to say it all, that’s the problem. He has no idea if Harry feels as strongly as he does, and is petrified that if he says it all out loud he’s going to scare the man off. There was definitely a two way connection - Louis has never been with anyone who responded to him as intensely as Harry did - but Harry has literally just come out of a fairly long-term relationship. What if he doesn’t want anything serious right now?
Louis is in turmoil as he watches Harry’s chest rise and fall, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He can’t do it, not now, not tonight. Subs are often vague when they come back up from subspace, and it's not fair to expect Harry to have such an important conversation in that state. Louis sighs, deciding to be patient.
“Baby, you with me?” he says quietly, as he positions himself next to Harry on the bed, settling into the man’s side and stroking his face. “Come back to me love, time to come back.” He says all the things he knows will help, and slowly, Harry starts to stir.
“There you are baby, open those beautiful eyes for me, yeah?” he says, and Harry does, smiling serenely at him and taking a deep slow breath. Louis strokes his face and neck, peppering him with small kisses as he comes to.
“May I remind you how fucking beautiful you are Harry?” he says cheekily, and Harry’s breath hitches, a flush warming his cheeks. Louis laughs. “Ah, you are back with me!” he says gleefully, and Harry’s giggle makes his stomach swoop.
Louis fusses over him, encouraging him to drink water and have fruit, intent on making sure he’s back up properly and isn’t going to drop. He constantly asks Harry simple questions, and eventually the man rolls his eyes at him.
“I’m fully back Lou,” Harry says, smiling shyly, “there’s no need to worry.”
“I’m not worried baby,” Louis replies, “just like taking care of you. It's my thing, remember?”
They are both smiling uncontrollably, and despite Louis’ fear of saying what’s on his mind, he can’t help hoping. The way Harry is looking at him seems like, well, like something .
After a while, Harry starts to yawn, and Louis insists that he sleeps, knowing he has work in the morning. As Harry gets up to go to the loo, he pauses, looking back at Louis on the bed.
“There’s a spare toothbrush in there,” he says tentatively, nodding towards the bathroom. “You will stay, right?” Harry’s expression is so vulnerable and hopeful that Louis can’t stop himself jumping up and gathering him in his arms.
“Of course I’m gonna stay baby,” he breathes into Harry’s curls, “as if I’d leave after all this.” He feels it when Harry relaxes, and the dimpled smile that the man gives him makes his heart feel like it's beating out of his chest.
When they settle in bed a little later, Harry immediately snuggles into Louis, and they wrap themselves around each other as sleep takes them.
**********************
“Lou?”
Louis stirs, and it takes him a few seconds to establish where he is. Then he sees Harry leaning over him, and the man is fully dressed and looking far too apprehensive for Louis’ liking. He’s suddenly wide awake.
“Harry, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, leaning up on his elbows. Harry flushes and smiles.
“Nothing, Lou, don’t worry, it's just I massively overslept, and now I’m going to be late for work, so I have to run.” He looks mortified and the need to care for him bubbles up in Louis’ chest like ravenous hunger. “I’m so sorry to just leave you, help yourself to anything you want for breakfast, um, and just pull the door shut when you leave. And, if you want to, um, maybe we could talk later tonight?”
“Yes, definitely Harry, let’s do that. And please don’t worry, I’m fine, don’t be late on my account,” he says reassuringly, and Harry looks relieved. “Go on! Go Go!” he waves Harry away, grinning, and the man giggles as he goes to leave. He turns at the bedroom door.
“Speak later then,” he says, and Louis nods, a little overwhelmed at how abrupt their parting is turning out to be.
Uni is a distraction, but even there he can’t really concentrate on his tutorial, or the thesis he’s supposed to be writing at home later in the day. All he can think about is Harry, and he doesn’t even know when Harry gets off work, so he’s not sure when to expect a message or call.
He could message Harry, of course, but he’s still full of conflicting thoughts about whether Harry feels the way he does, and the last thing he wants to do is put pressure on the sweet man. He gets the impression that Harry is such a people pleaser that if Louis blurted out how he feels, Harry might say he feels the same just to avoid upsetting him, and he really doesn’t want that.
He wants Harry to really want this, just like he does. So he waits, and he tries to write the summary of his thesis but every line he writes is so bad he ends up deleting an entire page of typing before slamming his laptop closed with an urge to throw it across the room.
It's 5pm now, and surely Harry will be finishing at the bakery soon? Or perhaps he finished earlier in the day, he had gone out early, before 7, so maybe he finished at 4 or something, and just hasn’t messaged Louis. Maybe he’s having second thoughts about contacting him? Maybe he’s trying to work out how to let Louis down gently or something?
Louis is spiralling.
He grumbles as he gets up from the table, trying to pull himself together with stern words under his breath. He puts the kettle on and immerses himself in the familiar routine of making tea, allowing his mind to numb a little, and it feels like a relief from the mania that had plagued him all day. He lets himself wallow in the numb feeling for a while, before eventually padding back into the lounge.
He’s turning on the TV, ready to try and drown out his thoughts with some trashy reality show or other, when he notices his phone light up on the table. He nearly drops his tea in his haste to grab it, his heart thumping as he opens the message notification, from the very person he’s been desperate to hear from all day.
Dimples: Hey Lou, I’ve just got back from work. How’s your day been?
Louis has to breathe for a few seconds just to calm himself and think clearly. Keep it light Tomlinson, let him lead the conversation.
Louis: Hey love, glad you got home safe. My day was OK, went to Uni, then I’ve been trying to write my thesis, not very successfully. How was the bakery? Did you bake anything interesting?
Dimples: Yes! I made this new pastry with chantilly cream. I brought some home actually. Thought you might like to try one.”
If Louis thought his heart was thumping before, he now wonders whether he might actually be having a heart attack. Fuck it, he figures, time to take some risks.
Louis: Yeah? I’d love to try it. Just say when baby, I’ll be there.
Dimples: Well you can’t have pastry until after dinner, right? And I may have also gone shopping on the way home, and I may have bought the ingredients for lasagne, which I remember you saying you liked? So, I thought maybe you could come over for dinner and then you can have a pastry?
Louis is immediately typing his response when his phone pings again.
Dimples: But you don’t have to of course. I just thought it might be nice, because I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday Lou, about how amazing it was.
Looking at his phone, Louis watches as the “typing” bubble pops up again, and he waits for Harry’s next message with his heart in his mouth.
Dimples: Louis, I really need to say something before you come over, I mean, if you do come over, like I said you don’t have to, but before you do (if you do) I need to just say something.
Dimples: God, I’m making such a mess of this!
Louis isn’t sure whether to feel hopelessly endeared at Harry’s babbling, or petrified that he is about to be told that this was all just a bit of fun. The bubble appears several times, stopping for several seconds in between, and Louis can tell Harry is typing and then deleting. Eventually, after what feels like hours but is probably only a minute, another message arrives.
Dimples: OK look, this is the thing. I really want you to come over, and I really want us to do more dirty stuff. Like, I REALLY want that Lou, I’ve been half hard all day thinking about you. BUT, I need you to know that I don’t think I can do casual with you. I’ve never had an experience as intense as yesterday, and I can already feel myself developing feelings for you Louis. I know its probably much too soon to be telling you any of this, but if I let you come over now and we fuck again, and then you don’t want the same thing, I’ll just end up getting hurt and I can’t handle that, not again. So I wanted you to know, full disclosure. If you don’t want to come over now please just tell me because I’ll be sitting here in an absolute panic until you respond!
Louis is glad there is no one here to witness quite how much of a sap he is, because he’s crying a bit, and finds himself jumping up and whooping with glee, before he laughs at himself and calms down. There’s so much he wants to say, but he knows Harry will probably be pacing and worrying, so he decides to keep his response short and to the point.
Louis: No need for panic, baby boy. I have never been happier to receive a message in my life, and I promise, I feel EXACTLY the same way.
He’s grinning like an idiot, and is already up and gathering his things, wanting to get to his boy as quickly as possible.
Dimples: Yeah? Oh my god!
Dimples: So you’re coming over? When? Now please?
Louis has his coat on ready, pulls on his boots and grabs his keys before responding.
Louis: I’m on my way right now, and don’t start cooking yet, because when I get there I’m gonna kiss every inch of the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Dimples: Fuck
Louis: Damn right baby, that’s exactly what we're going to do, and you’d better get used to it.
Louis laughs happily as he leaves the house, straddling his moped, ready to go and see the man he is now sure is the love of his life.
He’s happier than he’s ever been, and it's all thanks to Harry.
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