larry smut

the meet-cute - 1/4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280872/chapters/2651488

here's part one to the 'you'll breathe me (you won't release)' series, enjoy!

~✰~

"Have you ever done this before?"

Harry blinks at Louis, grip white-knuckled. "Yeah, I'm not completely clueless."

Louis gives him a small, reassuring smile. "And we're not moving too fast?"

Harry bites his lip, looking up from under his lashes. "Are we?"

"Look around."

Harry does. He knows they're on a motorway, since there haven't been traffic lights for a while and he's on fifth gear, but 100 kilometres per hour suddenly seem a bit much, and the cars around him are definitely slower. "What do I do?" he asks, slightly panicked.

"Relax," Louis starts. "You either switch to the right lane or slow down."

Harry trains his eyes on the cars to his right, looking for an opening. It's a nightmare.

No one told him driving would be so confrontational. The first time a driver cursed him out, he was near tears. The first time he nearly ran over a girl that crossed the street in the middle of the road, he couldn't breathe for a solid minute. How is he supposed to know if there's enough room for him to squeeze into the lane? He's barely spatially-aware enough to walk, let alone drive a motorised death machine.

He decides to just let it go and slow down, but as soon as he reaches for the gear stick, Louis' hand settles over his, warm and small and very distracting. "You can do it, H," he says, like he means it. All of a sudden, Harry wholeheartedly believes him. Because Louis wouldn't bullshit him – he's a sarcastic shithead nearly all the time they spend together, but when he encourages Harry he's completely serious.

Harry takes a deep breath and starts signalling to the right. He waits as car after car zooms ahead, until finally there's enough of a gap in traffic for him to veer into the lane. He still waits for Louis', "Go on then."

He keeps his hand under Louis' on the gear stick. Just in case.

*

For Harry's seventeenth birthday, he gets Louis Tomlinson.

No, that's not right. For Harry's seventeenth birthday, he gets a provisional license and a promise that if he passes the tests, he could get his own car. Harry's ecstatic, has set his sights on a licence ever since Niall got his and tried to teach him how to drive. He failed, of course, loved Harry too much to tell him he was awful, and Gemma had already moved to the States. His mum was too emotionally fragile to see him behind the wheel, and Robin just didn't have the time.

In comes the driving instructor. And he's a decent guy, fifty-something with an impressive moustache and an even more impressive credit debt, going by the arguments he keeps having on his phone during Harry's very first lesson. The problem is his short temper. Harry's a very easygoing guy, he likes to enjoy each moment and all that shit. So he speaks slowly and flails around, tends to go off-topic at times. His first lesson starts out well enough, learning the gears and "feel of the car", controlling the hunk of metal. But then he gets distracted at a roundabout and misses the exit, and the instructor just snaps at him and tells him to shut up and focus.

Which is horribly rude, but Harry's all about giving people the benefit of the doubt. So he lasts four whole lessons before declaring the guy a total prick and asking for a different instructor, someone less... surly.

His first lesson with Louis takes place first thing in the morning on a Saturday.

Harry stumbles out through the front gate in thrown-on baggy jeans and his ratty Ramones shirt, sees Louis leaning casually against the car, and his knees nearly give out. Apparently "not surly" meant a drop dead gorgeous twenty-something scruffy guy with shaggy brown hair and cheekbones sharp enough to chop a salad with. Clearly, Robin's trying to take Harry out.