Harry bolts upright, which causes Louis to stir out of his blissful sleep from the shift in weight, peeping an eye open toward the lad.
It's the best sleep he's had in fucking ages, and he doesn't understand why when there was a massive giraffe like man crowding his personal space all night.
Louis frowns at Harry and he's quick to spring off the bed when he sees the ashen skin, tinges of green within.
"Alright, love, it's alright," Louis coos, lifting Harry up as gently as possible and rushing him through the house and into the bathroom.
Once there, Harry is over the bowl of the toilet, spewing every ounce of alcohol from his body.
"I'm never drinking that shit again," Harry strains out, gagging.
Louis pulls Harry's hair back for him, rubbing small circles into his back from where he's placed his hand under the tshirt. His skin is warm, clammy and slightly slick with sweat.
"Good, because that shit was mine," Louis easily jokes with a small smile.
Harry is groaning, resting his head on the glass of the shower beside him. "My head is killing me."
Louis leans down and pecks Harry's forehead. "All better?"
Harry looks up at him, confusion swirling in his green irises and that kind of hits Louis with pain into his heart, embedding deep into the cracks.
Harry shakes his head, his head looking heavy on his neck when he lulls it forward and begins chucking up again.
Louis flushes the toilet for him, so the smell can stop assaulting the nose. He finds a room spray in the cupboard beside him, spraying it around them to hopefully mask the scent.
"You alright now, love?" Louis asks after a while of Harry just dry heaving.
Harry nods, slumping slightly back into Louis' touch. "Yeah," he breathes.
Louis grazes his lips over Harry's temple. After last night, he feels as though he's now allowed to, but clearly from the way Harry is pushing him off him and giving him a weird look, says otherwise.
"What are you doing?" Harry says, voice strained as though what Louis just did has wounded him.
Louis quirks a brow. "Do you remember anything that happened last night?" he quietly replies.
Harry shakes his head. "I remember spilling whiskey on the carpet, and you coming in. But that's about it."
Louis begins chewing his bottom lip. He should've known not to be as careless and stupid.
Of course the drunken git wouldn't remember fuck all of the heart to heart they had last night, the secret he spilled on Louis, the kiss they shared.
Louis runs a hand over his face. "Haz, you told me you were gay," Louis says bluntly.
Better get this over and done with, get Harry's rejection and arguments of, I was drunk, I wasn't thinking straight (figuratively and literally) of course I wouldn't want to be with a boy like you, and I am still very much into girls.
Harry's eyes are wide, looking as though he's a deer caught in headlights and Louis evidently sees the way his breath hitches, and he's buckling over the toilet again, throwing up once more.
Louis soothes circles into his back, continously gnawing at his bottom lip that he's surprised he hasn't touched muscle yet.
"Fuck," Harry wheezes out, his breath short and shallow. "Fuck," he repeats.
Louis flushes the toilet once more and pulls Harry into his arms. "Breathe," he calmly says into his ear, swaying them side to side just that little bit.
"Th-think I'm gon-gonna have a p-panic attack," Harry admits weakly, tears sheering his vision.
He begins trying to hit his head against the wall, bottom lip quivering whilst his limbs coil on themselves, trying to get as small as possible, and Louis hates seeing him like this.
"I wasn't- wasn't meant t-to tell anyone that! F-fuck. What's Jeff gonna do? Wha-wha-," Harry heaves, tears spilling over and he's shoving the balls of his palms into his eyes harshly to stop them from spewing further.
"Jeff isn't going to find out," Louis says determinedly. "Because, I for one, am not going to tell anyone. Anything said between these fucking walls of this goddamn estate, stays here, H! I'm not going to go blab my mouth about over the fact that Harry Styles has the hots for me." He nudges into Harry gently with an encouraging grin to show he's teasing on the last part.
It causes a little lift of Harry's lips, dimples faintly kissing his cheeks before they vanish, along with his small smile.
"I can hide secrets better than you know," Louis admits, running a hand through his hair.
Harry nods as if he's trying to convince himself that what Louis says is true. "Okay. Alright."
A rumble of a tummy can be heard and Louis pats Harry's thigh, going to stand, using the sink for support.
"Come on, love, let's get some brekky, then we can do fuck all the rest of the day," Louis decides, stretching until his back pops and releases the tension in his shoulders.
Harry sniffs. "I smell, Lou."
Louis' lips purse and he nods slowly in agreement. "Yeah. You do. So we can rather shower together, or I'll meet you in the kitchen in half an hour, where Mabes will have fixed up the perfect hangover cure known to man."
"Maccies?" Harry questions.
Louis scoffs. "Fuck off, no. A full English." He winks at Harry. "So which'll it be?"
Harry is already walking Louis out the bathroom. "I'll shower alone."
"Aw, but Harold, last night you said you'd make an exception for me as this wasn't our third date. Surely you can still owe up to your end of the bargain," he taunts softly.
Harry rolls his eyes. "Did I really? Well maybe the fourth date, then we can shower together," Harry jokes back with a soft smile.
Louis' eyebrows recede into his hairline. "We haven't even had our first, yet!"
"Exactly. Better get on that, then, Lou, goodbye." Harry locks the bathroom door and Louis sighs heavily through his nose.
"Alright, smart arse, but if you're not in the kitchen by ten thirty, I'm going to eat your hashbrowns!" Louis yells through the door.
He hears the hum of the water tank and the tsh of the shower turning on.
"You wouldn't dare!" Harry's voice sounds between the shower, making Louis grin.
He leaves the cottage, goes into the house as quietly as possible, hoping that no one hears the beep of the alarm. He's about to creep up the stairs— feeling much like this is the walk of shame, though they did nothing but cuddle— when Mabel calls his name from the kitchen.
He rolls his eyes, motions with his hands that strangle the air and masks his defeat and slight guilt despite himself, with a smile.
"Morning," he cheerfully greets.
"And where have you been all night?" Mabel asks, going straight into the deep end.
Louis shrugs, acting as though he has no fucking clue what she could possibly mean. "No idea what you're on about, darling. I was just giving H some towels for his morning shower ten minutes ago."
Mabel hums, not sounding convinced. "So, what, you so happened to have made time extend from that ten minutes into how many hours? I've been in here since seven, babes, and not once did I see you leave through that door. But it's funny how you return through the door, without a trace of ever leaving." She has a spatula propped in her hand, the sound of sizzling bacon popping behind her.
Louis purses his lips in false thought. "I guess you missed it through the sound of your own pining."
She scoffs. "How was sex with Harry last night? Does he bleach his arse?"
Louis chokes on his spit. "Fuckin' hell, Mabes, we didn't fuck!"
"Ah, but you admit you were there last night," she points out. "So when's the wedding? Because I saw a gorgeous bridesmaid's dress in the window of a shop in Weybridge, I thought would look perfect for my figure."
"We're not getting married," Louis splutters.
"Could see Phoebe and Daisy now, the little flower girls," Mabel says wistfully. "Imagine Harry in a suit... or better yet a wedding dress." She winks at Louis, seemingly enjoying tormenting him.
"We are not getting married!"
"I bet you have a Pinterest board full of wedding ideas already planned out. Duck green and yellow for the decor, a big three tier cake with little yous on the top." She hops away when Louis charges for her with a tea towel.
He drops the towel, grabs the wooden spoon that sits idle on the side of the counter. "I'm warning you, Mabel, if you don't shut up, I'm going to shove this spoon so far up your ar-"
"Morning," Harry's voice sounds, cutting Louis off.
Louis quickly hides the spoon behind his back, grinning at Harry who's curls are damp and prettily framing his face. He wears a yellow tshirt that reaches below his thighs, just the hems of some pink shorts being seen from beneath it.
"I've got us a fry up on the go," Mabel says, pushing Louis out the way with her hip, snatching the spoon from him. "And this little shit was just about to make the teas for us." She eyes him.
"Was I?" Louis sasses, shaking his head. "Never heard you say such things. I was on my way to the bathroom before you cornered me. I could do her for verbal assault, you know," he says to her, looking at Harry.
"And I can do you for being a prat. Get the teas going, before it's me whipping you with a towel."
"Mm, saucy," Louis giggles, flashing a grin to Harry who's now slumped in a chair, head in hands.
Louis rifles through the cupboards, finding a pack of paracetamol and fills a glass with water before handing the two to Harry.
"Thanks," Harry bumbles, slowly taking the pills before downing the whole glass of water.
"So, what are you two boys up to later?" Mabel asks from behind her shoulder, flipping some eggs in a pan.
Louis looks to Harry whilst sitting down opposite him, propping his feet into Harry's lap. "Dunno."
"I was thinking of writing some more songs, but if my headache proceeds, I might just slump on the sofa and hope death knocks at my door," Harry wallows.
Mabel looks at him then, pointing a spoon his direction. "You're sounding far too much like our Louis, I fear you've spent far too much time with him."
Harry's lips toy upward. "Maybe I'm just as dramatic," he points out.
Louis nods. "Oh yeah, you're very dramatic."
Harry pokes his tongue out at him. Louis wants to pull that mouth to his and feel their tongues dance together, but he keeps that to himself.
At least he's got some great wanking material for later, what with the kiss last night and the feeling of Harry fully on top of him as well.
He shifts a little in his seat, propping his hands behind his head.
"Did you make the tea?" Mabel asks, placing plates of food on the table.
Louis shakes his head. "My arms won't reach." He flops an arm in the direction of the kettle that's on the opposite counter to him. "So, so far," he whines.
Mabel shakes her head. "You're impossible. Surprised you haven't made me wipe your arse for you like I did when you were four!"
"That's Harry's job now," Louis simply states, causing Harry to heat red.
"And who is to say he wants to go anywhere near that?" Mabel quips.
Louis puts a mocking hand to his heart. "You wound me, Mabel, you wound me."
...
They're upstairs in the front room, Clifford fast asleep by the unlit fire, limbs kicking with dream. Shadows dance along the walls from the sun coming in from the window, and Louis is glad he bought that damn fan or else they'd be melting.
They decided to have a quiet one. Harry is scrolling through his socials, abandoned book on his tummy whilst he lays with his knees bent, head on Louis' arm.
Louis has his book propped on his tummy, using one hand to hold it open, the other carding fingers through soft curls on Harry's head. He's never felt so full in his life. It's the small touches he's never been lucky enough to have that mean something more than what they are. With his ex, it was very possessive, and it sometimes turned sour, it causes Louis' throat to burn just thinking about it.
But this, this is nice. There's no time limit here, they can sit here all night and just be in each other's company, the silence welcoming for a change which is new to Louis. His mind mostly always overruns when there's silence, but with Harry here, his mind is grounded to the book in hand and the thoughts of just Harry, Harry, Harry.
He feels the hairs on his neck stand on end, indicating he's being watched. He squints his eyes shut as they begin to sting more and more, a few tears sheering his vision from the pain.
"I have spidey senses, and they're telling me I'm being stalked," Louis mumbles.
Harry softly laughs through his nose. "You're about to cry, are you okay?"
Louis shakes his head. "'M not. My eyes sting."
"Oh. Do you have eye drops?"
Louis shrugs a shoulder, feeling hear creep into his cheeks. "I have glasses I'm meant to wear, but I look stupid with them on."
Harry gazes to the coffee table where Louis has abandoned his glasses. He leans forward and plucks them up before settling back down again, Louis' hand automatically going back to Harry's hair. He reaches behind him and drops the glasses onto Louis' face with puckered lips.
"Aw! You look adorable!" Harry says sweetly, bopping Louis' small nose.
"I look like an idiot, but thanks." Louis eyes adjust slightly, and it's easier to read this way.
"You're so beautiful," Harry whispers.
Louis blushes, biting his lip. "Shush."
"No, I won't. I'm telling the truth!" Harry protests, reaching his hand up again to prod at Louis' lip, running the pad of his finger along the bottom one. "You're so fun to just sit and admire."
"You're going to make my head too big if you keep up with the compliments. Also, that's such a creep thing to say, you really are a stalker, aren't you?"
Harry shrugs. "I just like to keep what I find admiring and pretty."
Louis pecks the pad of Harry's finger, before biting gently down on it, causing his heart to flutter, and Harry's breath to hitch slightly.
"I bet you have a rock collection," Louis says on a snort.
Harry's cheeks turn a pretty pink. "I do, actually. I pick new ones up every time I go away. I have two shelves full of tiny rocks."
Louis looks down to him then, smiling softly at him. "You're honestly so adorable."
Harry bites his lip, dimples fully on show and Louis prods one with a finger.
"So pretty," Louis mumbles, scanning Harry's face, lingering on his lips for a little too long.
Harry must notice, because he slowly inches his way up with his head, pressing Louis' lips to his, his hand coming up to cup Louis' face.
Louis deepens the kiss, craving the contact that he's missed for so long. Harry moves so he's now facing Louis, kneeling on the sofa. Louis pulls him closer by placing his hands on Harry's bare thighs, pulling him onto his lap. Harry entwines their fingers together, and a small moan leaves Louis' lips.
He swipes his tongue into Harry's mouth, Harry opening his mouth in order for easier entrance. Their tongues move in rhythm, and Louis can feel his heart thud like a hammer against a nail, his stomach feels light, and his boxers begin to strain despite himself.
He hasn't had physical contact like this in ages, so shoot him.
He roams his hands around the tshirt, lifting it up slightly and caresses Harry's abs with light touches of the pads of his fingers. Harry's moans get caught in his throat, and he instinctively grinds down onto Louis' lap.
And Jesus fuck, Louis hasn't felt this flustered in ages. He wants to rip Harry's clothes of and do him from behind, but he also knows not to rush into these things, especially after his ex, he doesn't know if he's able to trust anyone like that again. He knows Harry has a better heart than anyone he's ever met, but you can't be too sure with some people.
He thought his ex was the one... then he went and did that, and things changed forever.
Harry pulls away in order to catch a breath, leaning his forehead into Louis'. He thumbs Louis' bottom lip, Louis bringing it into his mouth to give a quick suck before his lips pop off. He tucks a strand of Harry's hair behind his ear.
"Is this going to be a recurring thing between us?" Louis breathlessly asks.
"Only if you're willing to take it. Yes."
"I'm willing to take everything you have to offer, Harry. Say the word and I'm yours."