Work Text:
His skin itches.
His skin itches because it’s been two months since he’s gotten laid and he can’t.
It’s the last show of the week though, and you can see the exhaustion clear in everyone’s eyes. Zayn has been sleeping basically the whole day –even through soundcheck, he just went backstage and fell asleep in a corner. Niall has been moody, which is weird, since Liam’s the moody one most of the time. Liam has been snapping at everyone and everything since they got together in the morning; Harry’s been quiet –but he’s always quiet so there’s nothing new about that. And Louis’ been, just.
Louis’ been getting on everyone’s nerves because holy shit he can’t keep still. He’s been going through a dry spell, what with being on tour and not staying at a hotel for more than a couple of hours until they’re back on the bus (with no semblance of privacy) which means he hasn’t been able to bring anyone back with him for two months. He hasn’t been able to get off properly either; whenever he gets back from a concert he’s either too tired or too wired to properly do anything before Harry –fucking Harry, sneaks into his bunk and cuddles him, hands warm and on his belly, until they both come off the high of the night and fall asleep.
And it just.
Harry’s the main culprit of Louis’ current situation.
Harry with his stupid curly hair and big green eyes that go all soft whenever he sees Louis wake up from a nap, all fuzzy edges and fluffy hair. Lately though, Harry’s been getting more physical with Louis –touching him whenever they pass by each other, doesn’t matter if they’re at a concert or eating at a restaurant. They’ve always been a touchy-feely band, everybody knows that, but it’s weird that Harry’s hugs have been tighter around Louis’ frame, his hands moving dangerously close to his bum more often than not.
It’s weird and it’s frustrating, simply because Harry doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that Louis would very gladly jump his bones if Harry were just a little bit less straight.
Last show of the week, Louis keeps repeating in his head.
After this, we have a two-week break and I can do something about this.
If only it were that easy.
///
It’s now two in the morning and Louis can’t sleep.
He feels hot and sweaty, all tangled up in his blankets and decides that, since the rest of the boys are sleeping, the best way to actually fall asleep is by getting off.
He’s two fingers deep when he hears his curtain slide open and he kind of, maybe, would really like to die right now. He’s on his knees with his face buried in his pillow, so he has to turn his head to see who the fuck decided to randomly look into his bunk at 2AM.
He tries to adjust his eyes to the darkness but he already knows who it is –only one person would find Louis with his fingers in his arse (the ones he still hasn’t taken out for some ungodly reason) and not say anything or move away.
“Lou, what are you doing?” Harry’s voice is raspy and sleep-meddled and Louis doesn’t need that at all.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing, Harry?” Louis snaps.
He’s about to take his fingers out –his hand was cramping, mind you, when Harry’s hand wraps around Louis’ dainty wrist and holds it there.
What.
Harry, with his hand still wrapped around Louis’ wrist, climbs into Louis’ bunk and closes the curtain, then he sits with his back against the wall, manhandling Louis so he would be straddling his thighs. Louis’ fingers are still in his arse. What the fuck.
“Harry, what the fuck?” The last word dies in his throat because Harry has started to move Louis’ fingers out and then back in and what the f u c k.
Harry shuts him up by bringing his free hand up to Louis’ mouth, all the while saying “Shhh baby, have to be quiet now, don’t wanna wake up the lads, do we?”
And Louis wants to cry because Harry, of all people, is fucking him with his own fingers. The boy that has been the main character in Louis’ wet dreams ever since they met in that bathroom, is fingering Louis. How often does that happen? Never.
Eventually, Harry slows his ministrations and lets go of Louis’ wrist. Louis suppresses a whine even if he’s thinking that it can’t be over, not when I was so close. But then he almost gasps when he feels another thick finger enter him, one that definitely is not from his own hand.
Harry smirks while looking down at Louis, who has his eyes partially closed, almost in tears from Harry’s finger stretching him. “You like that baby, right? Yeah, you do. You were never gonna be able to get anywhere by yourself, good thing I found you.”
And Louis’ breath hitches because Harry’s stretching him out so good and the drag of his finger plus Louis’, inside of him feels out of this world.
Harry removes the hand that was covering Louis’ mouth brings it down to Louis’ nipples, tugging on the left one harshly. Louis whimpers because he wasn’t expecting that and Harry’s eyes snap to him, shutting him up just by glaring at him.
Louis’ wrist is hurting by this point but he throws all the care out the window because Harry just squeezed in another finger inside Louis and he just can’t keep quiet anymore. He makes a weird garble noise inside his throat and slumps against Harry’s chest, mouth open on his collarbone, little whimpers escaping his lips every time Harry’s and his own fingers thrust inside his body.
Harry’s enjoying, every second of this, Louis can tell. His free hand is running all down Louis’ back until he gets to his bum, there he grabs Louis’ right cheek and spreads him open, all whilst guiding his hips up and down, making the smaller boy ride his fingers.
“You like riding my fingers, yeah?” Harry whispers to his temple. Louis can’t do anything but nod dumbly, forehead resting on Harry’s shoulder and tiny hand grabbing his bicep.
At one point, Louis takes out his fingers and wraps his other hand around Harry’s left bicep, and then Harry just goes all for it. He fingers Louis fast and hard, trying to find his prostate while tugging on his rim whenever his fingers go out.
He finds Louis’ prostate and Louis makes a keening noise high in his throat that makes Harry stop everything. And what a good moment to stop, because the bunk in front of Louis’ is Liam’s and they can hear the curtain sliding open.
“Lou, you alright?” Liam’s words slur together, sleep still evident in his voice.
Louis would reply, but what with Harry’s fingers rubbing his prostate and his other hand back on Louis’ mouth, well, he’s a bit occupied. But leave it to Harry to save the day.
“Lou’s fine, Li,” Harry whispers, but loud enough so the other boy can hear. “He’s been feeling a bit under the weather, think he caught something from the rain earlier.”
And, seriously, how can Harry be so fine with this? So nonchalant while fingering his male best friend? Louis has no idea what’s going on but he just wants to get off, for fuck’s sake.
Liam lets it be and they can hear him closing his curtain, which means Harry’s fingers start fucking him with full force again. Louis is losing it.
“Couldn’t keep quiet, could you? Gonna have to gag you next time.”
And it’s the fact that Harry started tracing Louis’ stretched out rim and the promise of a next time that has Louis’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, making him go limp against Harry, coming all over Harry’s naked torso.
Harry keeps moving his fingers, letting Louis ride out his orgasm gently. He takes them out once Louis starts wriggling his bum in an attempt to let him know it’s too much.
He takes Louis’ discarded t-shirt from the corner of the bunk and wipes both of them clean, kisses Louis on the forehead then lays him down on the mattress before climbing out of the bunk and promptly closing the curtain.
Seriously, what the fuck.
///
It’s been three days and they still haven’t talked about it.
Harry’s apparently fine with it because the day after it happened, he acted as normal as ever. No lingering thoughts about fingering his best mate in his mind, then.
Louis, on the other hand, has been freaking the fuck out.
Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.
Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?
Louis would really like to know.
They’re in a hotel that day and the other boys are sightseeing (Louis has no idea which State they’re in, if he’s honest) which left Harry and Louis all alone in their shared room.
Yes, shared, because the fact that Harry made Louis (his platonic best friend) orgasm a couple of days ago means nothing to the younger boy.
Louis could’ve said he didn’t want to share a room with him, but he didn’t do it because then the other boys would’ve known something was up and he really didn’t want to explain; also, Harry would’ve been upset, and Louis hates making him upset. So yeah, shared room.
Harry’s taking a shower and Louis is trying to nap, but to no avail, considering it’s like one in the afternoon and this hotel has white curtains and no blinds.
He still fakes that he’s napping, though, and tries not to move when Harry comes out of the shower. Louis can’t help but imagine the sight; Harry’s skin all wet, little droplets of water running down his chest, his hair even curlier because of the steam in the shower. He could probably live off that image, if he’s being honest.
Louis is still too deep inside his head to notice that Harry’s walked closer to Louis’ bed and is only aware of the fact that he’s climbing on it because he feels the edge dip down. Also, Harry’s hands are on his bum, so there’s that.
“I know you’re not sleeping, Louis.” Harry says and Louis goes rigid because fuck this kid, honestly.
He feels Harry peeling off his sweats and oh, okay then.
“ ‘ve been meaning to try something ever since the other night, but we were still in the bus and we know how you can’t keep quiet so I didn’t want to risk it.” And Louis blushes, remembering how Liam was so close to finding out what was going on.
Louis’ on his stomach and feels Harry settle between his legs, prying them open and then making Louis prop up on his knees while bent at the waist, his face smushed against the pillow.
He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels something wet between his cheeks.
Louis pushes himself up on his elbows and tries to look at Harry, but the younger boy shushes him –he wasn’t even saying anything, and presses on the center of his back to make him bend again.
“Relax.”
And Louis does.
Harry licks at his rim again, and Louis feels himself become pliant under the man touching him, a sigh escaping his lips. Harry spreads his cheeks open with both hands and licks a little faster, with a bit more pressure put into it.
Louis thinks it can’t get any better (or worse? He’s not sure.), when Harry presses a kiss to his hole and licks over it again, this time pressing his tongue in. Louis lets out a high whine and pushes his arse back, trying to get more of Harry’s tongue inside him, anything to help him get off.
He tries to wrench his arm under him and grab his cock but Harry slaps it away, without ever breaking contact with Louis’ arse, and circles it himself, tugging slowly and spreading the precum at the top down Louis’ shaft.
Harry presses a finger to Louis’ hole and it slides in easily, all the while licking around it and tugging at Louis’ cock. “You wanna come for me, don’t you baby?”
Louis doesn’t even get a chance to respond because Harry does some weird twisty thing with his hand in the upstroke that has Louis gasping Harry’s name and spilling all over the sheets.
His body is shaking uncontrollably, he’s never had an orgasm like that and to think that the one person that gave it to him his straight best mate? Louis’ life is a joke.
Harry turns him over and lays him down on his bed since Louis’ has the wet spot, then gets the towel he used to dry himself after his shower and cleans Louis up. He presses a kiss to his forehead, puts on some clothes, grabs his phone and walks out the door, saying he’ll be back in a couple hours.
Louis is asleep in minutes.
/// Two weeks later ///
It’s been two weeks since the last incident and Harry’s still acting like nothing happened. There’s one last show that week though, and everyone’s buzzing.
Louis is getting his hair done when he looks at his reflection in the mirror and sees Harry through it, in the back of the room. Harry’s shirtless and staring at Louis, but that’s not what makes Louis blush, not at in the slightest.
What makes Louis blush is the fact that Harry made a wiggling motion with two of his fingers, winked at Louis, then left the room.
If Lou had to snap her fingers in front of his face a couple of times to get him to pay attention, nobody has to know.
The show’s over and Louis is alone in the bus.
Louis’ skin hasn’t stopped itching since that day at the hotel because fucking Harry Styles doesn’t deem it important to talk to his best pal about getting him off twice all the while claiming he’s straight. Fuck no.
Louis knows they need to talk but he hasn’t been able to get Harry alone in a while and, when he does get him alone, Harry just ignores him or tries to change the subject. Louis is emotionally drained, to say the least.
He’s happy that the rest of the boys decided to head out and burn off some of the remaining energy they had from performing, because that meant he would have the bus to himself for at least a couple of hours; he could curl up with a cup of tea and catch up on Scandal, wondering whether Olivia and Fitz were going to fight in this episode like they always do.
He’s about to get up and refill his cup when the bus door opens and he sees Harry walking in. He doesn’t say a word as he takes his shoes off and leaves them by the door, walks over to where Louis’ sitting and sets himself down behind the smaller boy on the couch, manhandling Louis so he can sit on his lap.
Louis says nothing as he feels Harry nosing the nape of his neck, his big, warm hands spreading along the expanse of Louis’ stomach under his shirt. Louis visibly shivers and Harry smiles just a little, the little shit.
“You’re watching Scandal Lou, really?” Harry snorts.
Louis rolls his eyes and makes to get up so he can go to the kitchen and refill his cup and get away from the fucking demon hands that are inching closer and closer to the waistband of the sweats he has on, when he feels Harry softly kiss the back of his right shoulder, his hands stilling on Louis’ hips.
And Louis just.
He can’t.
Louis jumps from Harry’s lap, ripping his hands off his body and turns to him, visibly shaking and eyes wide.
“You can’t just do that, Harry!” He shouts.
“What are you talking about, Lou?” Harry has the balls to look confused, as if running his hands all over his male best friend’s body and kissing his neck and his shoulder is normal behavior for a straight male like Harry.
And the thing is, Harry knows.
Harry knows Louis is gay – again, the only one in the band that knows, since it’s kind of hard to hide one night stands from your flatmate; and he still thinks it’s completely fine to cross physical boundary lines like that, thinking Louis won’t get affected by his actions.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Louis snaps. “Stop being an idiot and admit that what you’re doing is wrong!”
This time, it’s Harry that snaps. “What the fuck are you going on about? You’ve never been against me touching you in any way, and now you just decide you’re against it? So what if I like cuddling you? You’re my best friend, Louis, it’s not that big of a deal!”
And the problem is that they’ve never had a fight like this before.
Harry’s right: Louis never, not even once, stopped Harry’s advances; not even before he was out to him. Louis knows that their dynamic is completely different from the rest of the band’s but, back to the original problem, Louis hasn’t gotten laid in two months and he may have a small, barely there crush on Harry, so he feels the need to take his anger out on who he thinks is at fault.
Apparently, Louis doesn’t think it’s him.
So he continues this pointless fight.
“Not that big of a deal!?” Louis shrieks. “You are so full of shit that you don’t even realize that the way you’re behaving towards your gay, male best friend is not as platonic as you think it is!”
And that.
That makes Harry’s face soften and eyes go wide. His lips part and Louis has to concentrate on the fact that he’s furious so he doesn’t get distracted by them.
“You’re in love with me,” Harry whispers, his eyebrows scrunching up.
Louis feels like he just got slapped.
His face contorts into this very unattractive thing, all the while his eyes widen and fill with tears, his arms limp by his sides, but his hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Say it Louis,” Harry presses, pushing himself off the couch and closing the distance between them. “Say you’re in love with me.”
Harry dares put a hand on Louis face, cupping his cheek and tilting his head upwards, but Louis’ not having any of it. He squeezes his eyes shut, stray tears escaping and making their way down his cheeks, and pushes at Harry’s chest, hard. Harry stumbles and falls on the couch, stunned.
“Fuck you,” Louis whispers, not really meaning it.
Louis wipes at his eyes and makes his way towards his bunk, getting inside of it and closing the curtain. He buries his face in his pillow, wishing that everything that happened the past two weeks would have just been a dream.
///
It’s another week until they even look at each other again and another five days until they talk.
They only talk to each other because Niall sits them down and makes them get their shit together.
“Okay so,” Niall starts. “You shitheads have to fix whatever the fuck’s going on because Liam, Zayn and I are getting tired of having to deal with Louis being sad and quiet, while Harry’s been going out almost every night to get drunk, be it by himself or not.”
Louis and Harry look at each other but quickly avert their eyes, not daring to maintain eye contact for more than a second.
Niall sighs and gets up, grabbing Louis by the hand and leading him towards the back of the bus, to the room they use whenever they bring back people –apparently not everyone wants to have sex in a bunk; he goes back and gets Harry, bringing him to the room as well. It’s only three seconds later that both boys realized what Niall has in mind.
Louis tries to stop it, but Niall shuts the door too fast. He twists the door handle, trying to unlock it. “Seriously Niall, this is stupid; the lock is on the inside, you nut!”
“Look again, Louis. I hope that by the time I’m back, you guys have made up already!” After that, he hears the tour bus door shut.
Louis looks down at the door handle confused for a second, until he gets it.
That little shit, he thinks, because Niall apparently planned this out to the last detail; he took off the doorknob and screwed it back on but backwards, so the lock is on the outside of the room.
“I’m gonna kill that fucking idiot,” Louis mutter under his breath, resting his forehead against the door.
He hears Harry chuckle and then the springs of the bed squeaking. Louis turns around and finds Harry laying spread-eagle, his thin, white t-shirt exposing a sliver of the skin on his stomach. He rakes his eyes up his body, getting momentarily lost in the sight of his bulging biceps, tattoos on full display; when he gets up to his face, he’s surprised to find those green eyes locked on him, apparently aware of Louis’ blatant staring.
“So, uh,” Louis clears his throat. “You’ve been drinking a lot, then?”
Harry scoffs and Louis winces because he knows that Harry doesn’t want to make small-talk. Whenever they fight, Harry’s not one to beat around the bush, he likes to get everything over and done with from the very start –he says it saves for a lot of headaches and screaming. But they’ve never fought like this, so Louis has no idea what to do.
“Look, Louis,” Harry starts. “If you want to say something, please don’t start with that shit. Either you start saying whatever you want to say to explain that little scene three weeks ago, or you can shut up and let me speak.”
Louis stands there, stunned into silence because what? There’s nothing for Harry to say.
He tells him as much, “There’s nothing for you to say, Harry. You made yourself clear the other day.”
Harry rolls his eyes and groans, sounding defeated, but then he sits up on the bed and looks at Louis, taking a deep breath before he starts talking.
“That Night,” and Louis blushes because he knows he’s talking about the night that started this mess. “We did something that, you’re right, wasn’t platonic at all; but I’m not apologizing for it because I’m not sorry and I know you aren’t, either. We were both stone-cold sober so that means you could’ve stopped me if you wanted to or I could’ve just walked away and acted like I didn’t see anything if I wanted to, but neither of us wanted that.
“We’ve always been different, you and I. After you came out to me, I felt weird; I didn’t know what was going on because I wasn’t disgusted by you, and you know this, but I wasn’t thrilled by the idea either because that meant you were going to be less careful around me when you brought somebody home and I had to be fine with it because I didn’t like you that way.”
Louis slides down to the floor with his back against the door because the room kept spinning. He felt lightheaded because Harry spoke in past tense, as if he doesn’t feel the same way anymore.
“What are you trying to say?” Louis manages to choke out, his voice barely even there.
Harry takes another deep breath and closes his eyes for a second, opening them slowly again and focusing on Louis once more.
“I’m saying that I wasn’t happy with the fact that you were going out and having sex with strangers while I was home, waiting for you to come back; and That Night, made it clear to me why I was feeling that way. I love you, Louis. No, wait, I’m in love with you.”
And Louis has to cover his face with his hands because no, that’s not what’s supposed to be happening right now.
A couple of minutes pass and Louis still hasn’t moved, but he slowly drags his hands down his face and lifts his gaze up at Harry. He looks more affected by this than Louis thought; he takes a moment to appreciate the picture in front of him: Harry’s green eyes wide and red-rimmed, his lips bitten and red from worry, he has a blush creeping up his neck and the bags under his eyes became more prominent in the minutes they’ve been in here.
Louis mulls over everything Harry said and weighs his words carefully.
“Harry, this isn’t just some joke, this is a big thing,” Louis says, wringing his hands together. “You can’t just admit to being in love with me after getting into my pants a couple of times, it takes a lot to love somebody.”
Louis expects Harry to do a lot of things, but he definitely doesn’t expect Harry to cross the room in half a second and haul him up to his feet, looking into his eyes for a beat before he leans in and captures Louis’ mouth with his.
At first, Louis is a bit too stunned to respond, but then he feels Harry’s tongue prod at his lower lip and he lets himself melt into it. He feels Harry’s hands explore his body, but this time without the purpose of taking it further; it’s almost as if Harry wants to learn every curve of Louis’ body for future reference, softly circling his thumbs on Louis’ hipbones, his long fingers splayed over Louis’ lower back.
Harry kisses the way he talks; all slow and languid but with purpose, letting Louis know everything he’s feeling just by licking into his mouth, nibbling softly at his lower lip and sighing every so often.
They break apart after what seems like forever but was only about thirty seconds, and Louis opens his eyes, becoming startled when he finds Harry was already staring at him, his lips parted and his cheeks red.
Louis almost wants to die because he did that.
“Please don’t think I said that because I got into your pants,” Harry whispers, his gaze apologetic. “I do love you, Lou and even if it takes a lot to love somebody, I’m willing to go through hell and back to make you see that I’d do anything for you.”
“I’m not going to be your experiment,” Louis says, pained.
Harry squeezes his hips, his thumbs digging into Louis’ hipbones. He nudges Louis’ nose with his and makes him hold his gaze.
“Don’t say that, Louis,” Harry scolds him. “Never say something like that again in front of me, ever. I’m in love with you and I don’t care if you’re a guy, nothing’s gonna make me change my mind. I’m not scared.”
Louis is the one that kisses him this time.
And if the other boys get back to the bus a couple of minutes later and find them making out, well, it’s a great coming-out story.