Narry: One Shots

Once In Your Life

“Avoid,” Niall scrunches up his face and Harry moves his hands so he’s resting his chin on them, “uh. Avoid Tom, snog Crew Alan, marry you.”

“You’d marry me over Tom?” Harry says, bewildered.

“What?”

“You did see his wedding speech, right? You’d give that up for me?”

“Couldn’t do it to Giovanna. M’not a homewrecker, Harry. She bakes me cakes,” Niall says pointedly.

“Can’t believe it. Feel like I’ve won the lottery.” Harry grins and Niall makes a move like he’s going to chuck his bottle at Harry but realises at last minute that it’s still full.

“Alright, calm down,” Niall says with a laugh. “Only marrying you for the money and your record collection.”

“We’d have a great wedding,” Harry continues unfazed as he flops back on the bed, Corona spilling out of the bottle and dripping down his hand. “In a barn. Like, obviously not with all the animals still inside. Well, maybe the sheep, they’re cute. Do sheep even live in barns? Can you train them to sing? We could do it all up, have the priest standing on a stack of hay. So many fairylights, too many fairylights. It’d be a fire hazard. We’d have to have the fire service on stand-by. Channel Four could pick it up as one of their documentaries, World’s Most Dangerous Wedding. Did I mention the chainsaw jugglers?”

“You’re a child.” Niall snorts.

Maybe, maybe the thought has been on his mind a lot tonight, maybe he’d gotten a tad too weepy as Zayn and Perrie exchanged rings but, to be honest, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Maybe that’s the reason Harry had declared a Singles Only after party in his hotel room which consisted of him and Niall and some stolen booze.

“How many do you want?” Harry asks, “children, I mean.”

“Dunno,” Niall answers, “probably ‘bout twenty. A whole herd. You?”

“Same,” Harry nods, the ceiling starting to ripple in his vision again. “Could start a travelling family circus. Or like, become the Osmonds. The Styles Five.”

Niall starts humming ABC under his breath and Harry joins in after a second, making the words up off the top of his head. It somehow turns into a song about how to check if your spaghetti’s properly cooked and has Niall cracking up halfway through. Harry grins up at the ceiling.

“First dance song?” Harry asks once Niall manages to stop choking.

“Somethin’ proper cheesy but classy, yeah?” Niall answers, “Have I Told You Lately?”

“Yes bro!” Harry cheers, leaning off the bed to get a high five off Niall. Their hands slap together a little sloppy and Harry lingers enough for it to definitely be classed as handholding before he lets go. “Rod Stewart’s version though, what a tune. Could get Ed to sing it, he loves a wedding.”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” Niall says, grimacing.

“Such a sick wedding,” Harry sighs wistfully. If this was a cartoon, Harry would suddenly have a glowing lightbulb above his head. But it’s not, and all he has above his head is an empty bottle of brandy. “Let’s do it.”

“Do what?” Niall asks.

“Get married!” Harry crows. The lightbulb would burn a little brighter and then shatter into tiny little heart-shaped confetti. Harry might not be above pitching an idea to Pixar. It could happen, they probably follow him on Twitter. “Not right now, obviously.”