A/N:
switch around the words in the title a bit and you'll know what's gonna happen at the end of the chapter ;)
you'll figure it out, babes
•••
"Baby boy..." Louis mumbles, slowly running his fingers through Harry's hair.
"Mm," Harry mumbles, preening into Louis' small fingers, the nickname almost slipping past his thoughts.
Almost.
"Come on, sweetheart. We're in New York!" Louis groans, crawling on top of Harry and resting his head on his chest.
"But you're comfy. Never wanna leave," Harry responds, finally opening his eyes to look at the smiling boy on top of him.
"Don't worry. I'll hold your hand the entire time we're exploring the city," the older says, leaning down slowly in anticipation of Harry's bubblegum pink, soft lips.
"The whole time?" Harry smirks, leaning up so their lips are barely centimeters away.
"Whole time," Louis says and closes the distance between them, Harry laying back down and holding the older's hips.
They close their eyes, kissing each other like it was the first time. (Which was only a few days ago, anyways)
Louis' thin lips taste like mint, signifying that he'd already been up long enough to brush his teeth. His lips are perfect, thin and a little bit rough and meshing in perfectly with his own.
The kiss is perfect, no matter how short or long or sexual or sweet. Harry's plump, soft lips slot in perfectly with his own, just a hint of emotion showing through in the kiss.
"New York," Harry mumbles in awe once they've pulled away to catch their breath.
"New York," Louis responds, smiling like an idiot.
"Are we going to be that cheesy couple that takes pictures of ourselves holding hands the whole time?" The younger giggles, Louis pushing himself up and straddling his chest, hands tracing the sparrows right above his nipples.
Harry gasps at that, his breath catching in his throat as Louis' small hands splay across his chest, his pinkie finger just grazing his right nipple.
"Lou-" He chokes out.
"Hm? Well, to answer your question, and knowing you, I do in fact believe we'll be that couple. But I'm okay with that. We'll probably get some really cute pictures in, and I think that-" Louis rambles, cutting himself off when he sees that Harry's absolutely writhing underneath him, legs squirming behind him and hands tugging at his long hair.
"H-Harry? You alright there, babe?" Louis asks, concerned when he sees Harry's eyes squeezed shut, face contorted in–pleasure?
As a way of responding, Louis supposes, Harry lets out a long moan. It finally hits the older one to maybe look down, and he sees that both of his hands are resting against Harry's nipples.
And well, his hands aren't resting on them. He was subconsciously playing with Harry's nipples as he spoke, pinching them and rubbing the pads of his fingers over them and god, the boy probably wasn't even fucking listening because he was just so focused on Louis' hands.
"O-Oh," Louis starts, looking back up at Harry but not daring to move his hands. "I-I didn't realize, um, I didn't know I was-"
"Shut up, Louis. J-Just, keep going, please."
Louis swallows the lump in his throat, nodding quickly. "Yeah, yeah, okay."
He scoots down a bit so that Harry's other two nipples are exposed. He experiments with them, brushing his pointer finger over the upper one daftly.
"Are... are they sensitive?" Louis whispers, talking about the other two, eyes so focused on Harry's writing body that he doesn't know what to do with himself.
Harry shakes his head. "Not as much as the others."
Louis nods. Harry's main two nipples are extremely sensitive, literally perking up at any given moment, so the fact that the other two aren't as much might not really mean anything. Duly noted, Louis thinks.
"Fuck, Harry, you're incredible," the older says, watching his face contort from pleasure to confusion.
"What–what do you-"
"You're just fucking incredible. An absolute angel. You literally have four nipples. What kind of mother fucking god given angel," Louis mutters wondrously, Harry blushing from his words.
"I'm so fucking lucky that you're mine, princess. All mine and no one else's. No one else gets to see you like this–only me, okay? I'm the only one that gets to make you feel like this–feel good, alright?" Louis whispers, thumb brushing over his left nipple to annunciate his words.
Harry nods quickly. "God, y-yes, Lou. All yours. Always."
"Always and forever, right?"
"Always and forever," the younger confirms. "Now, god, please touch me."
Louis grins wickedly. "Gladly," he mumbles, kissing down Harry's stomach.
•••
Maybe an hour later, once both boys are sweaty and completely out of breath, not to mention the serious need of a towel, or at least some baby wipes, Harry and Louis are laying on the hotel bed with their hands intertwined in the middle.
"Well, shit," Louis mumbles, laughing as he turns to look at Harry, whose cheeks are redder and more flushed than the strawberry he fed him just days ago.
"You're so–I can't, um, oh my god," Harry stutters, laughing as he tries to catch his breath. "You're just really, really good. At, god, at everything."
Louis laughs, taking Harry's probably really fucking unclean hand and kissing it with his definitely really fucking unclean mouth.
But Harry doesn't really give a shit if his mouth is clean or not, because it was just licking circles around his ass, so.
(smug ass little bitch lmao i can't)
"Lou," Harry mumbles again, letting his hand rest on his upper chest.
"Hm?"
"We really need a towel."
Louis laughs, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to Harry's lips before getting up and going to the washroom, grabbing a hand towel and wetting it with warm water.
He walks back out of the washroom, stopping in his steps when he sees Harry.
The air in Louis' body leaves in a shaky breath, him staring at Harry who hasn't noticed it yet.
He's laying on the bed completely naked, the covers drawn up just above his groin. His body is covered in sweat, his stomach painted.
Harry's eyes are wide, pupils still blown as he looks up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling heavily.
Louis' is so, absolutely, one-hundred percent in love with this boy.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, walking over to sit on the bed next to Harry.
The boy blushes, turning to face the older as he wipes the towel across him.
"Stop, you're making me blush."
"Oh, come on. I was making you do more than blush just a few minutes ago," Louis chuckles, wiping himself clean before throwing the towel off to the side.
Harry rolls his eyes. "Shut up."
The older stands up, going to his suitcase to grab an outfit for the day. "Great way to start off in New York, huh?"
Harry smiles, getting up and doing the same. "I suppose so."
They get dressed, sneaking little looks at each other when they think the other isn't looking.
But he always is.
"You know, babe, considering how much you're looking at me, would you just like to dress me?" Louis teases, only half-joking.
Harry shrugs, walking over to Louis and taking the shirt he was about to put on from his hands and holding it himself.
"Arms up, love," Harry whispers, the edge to his words sending shivers down Louis' spine.
"Really, Haz?"
"You suggested it, sweetheart."
Louis rolls his eyes, not actually annoyed with this at all, and puts his arms up. Harry slides the material over his hands, down his arms and over his head, kissing him when his lips appear as the shirt falls down his chest.
Harry pulls away, Louis pouting at that, and goes down on his knees.
"Don't get excited, babe," the younger mumbles when he sees Louis' eyes (and dick) perk up.
Harry grabs the material of Louis' long-sleeved thin jumper, slowly pulling it up as he leaves fire-trailing kisses up his stomach.
When Harry gets to his ribs, he lets the material fall back down and stands up.
"What was that for?" Louis asks, confused.
"I love your tummy," Harry shrugs as he tugs on a shirt, as if that just explained it. Louis can't disagree more.
"Well, I love you."
"I love you too."
"Well, alright," Louis laughs as he tugs on his pants, watching Harry do the same and wishing he had kept up with his earlier commitment.
Harry throws on a fluffy jacket, grabbing a beanie and putting it on before slipping on an old pair of boots, considering they'd probably be walking in the snow.
"Louis, you need a jacket. You'll be freezing in just the jumper."
"Oh, I'll be fine, baby. I'm strong, a little cold won't hurt me," Louis responds, accent heavy in his words.
Harry eyes him up and down. "Oh, really? Whatever happened to Mr. 'I get cold easily, so if you have an open window in the car, I'm gonna get a bit grouchy', huh, Louis?"
The older huffs. "I'll be fine. Long as you don't open the window in the car," he mumbles, placing a small hand on Harry's stomach as if they had to be touching at every given moment.
Harry's breath stutters at the small, innocent touch because yes, they do have to be touching at every given moment and yes, that tiny little hand made his entire body tingle.
Louis splays his fingers out across his stomach, knowing his hand is covering the butterfly tattoo now. Harry smiles and looks at Louis, blue and green eyes mixing together in a whirlpool of love.
"You're going to be freezing, and I'm going to have to give you my jacket because I'm a nice boyfriend," the younger comments, watching with sad eyes as Louis' hand falls back to his side.
He rolls his eyes. "It's not gonna happen, baby boy. Don't get your hopes up that you'll be able to swoop in and save the day like a hero," he mumbles, grabbing Harry's hand and walking out of the suite, towards the elevator.
"Aren't I the hero though, babe?"
Louis looks up at him and smiles. "I suppose you are, kitten."
•••
They walk down to their car, excited but also really fucking nervous to be driving in the streets of New York. Louis made sure that Harry knew he was the one that would be driving because "I'm literally two years older than you" and "babe, you've only been driving for, like, three years. I've been driving for seven".
Besides, Harry can't drive with only one hand and Louis can, which means that he can hold onto the younger's thigh while they're rolling through the city.
Louis really, really, really likes Harry's thighs.
I mean, who doesn't?
So they get into their sleek black sports car, Louis turning the key in its ignition and feeling the bursts of excitement in his stomach when he hears it roar to life.
He pulls out, placing a steady hand on Harry's upper thigh as he drives into the streets of New York City.
Harry blushes at the touch, loving the feeling of Louis' small hand barely covering his black jegging clad thigh.
"Lou, look how pretty the city is," Harry comments, taking his hand off of his thigh and intertwining their fingers, protruded blue veins hiding under peachy skin.
"S' almost as pretty as you, my love," the older responds, eyes widening as he carefully looks around the city, bright lights contrasting against the warm glow of the winter sun, snow lining the sidewalks.
Harry blushes like he always does when Louis compliments him, or says anything about him, really.
"So where do you want to go first?" Louis asks.
Harry lulls over it, biting at his lip ring and not really noticing the fact that Louis' staring at him intently with dark eyes and a smirk painted across his face.
Well, he notices it when the truck comes screeching towards them, flying down the wrong side of the road.
"Louis!" He yells before everything goes black.
•••
"Har? Baby, please wake up. H, come on kitten. Please," a faraway voice begs. Harry's mind is foggy, only bits and pieces of the pleading voice coming through.
Harry wants to open his eyes, fuck, he wants to open them so bad to see the face he knows the voice belongs to. The beautiful blue eyes that are piercing to anyone except the person they stare at fondly, who Harry is cognizant enough to know is himself. The hint of stubble on his chin, barely there but enough to scratch and burn at his thighs when he leaves soft kisses burning on his skin.
He knows he won't be able to open them, because he's just so fucking tired, until he feels a small hand on the back of his neck, and it's like his body is coming alive like a livewire, but also sinking into the touch as his muscles loosen at the same time.
So Harry's still-bright green eyes open, blinking up at the boy who's fingers are running up and down the back of his neck, his other hand's fingernails scratching bluntly atop his head.
"W-What happened?" Harry croaks out, wondering why the hell he's laying in the backseat of their sports car and why the hell Louis' laying on top of him.
"Well, there was a truck that was driving on the wrong side of the road. It was coming towards us but you yelled at me and I was able to, like, swerve to the side so it barely missed us. I looked over to make sure you were okay, but you passed out, so I pulled over into a parking lot and I've spent the past twenty minutes trying to wake you up," Louis mumbles, one hand squeezing at the back of his neck as the other strokes through Harry's hair.
Harry's eyes flutter shut for a second, slits of green hiding behind eyelids. "O-Oh. I d-didn't mean to scare you, sweetheart."
Louis chuckles. "You fucking pass out for almost half an hour and you're worried about how I feel? You're an angel, I'm telling you."
Harry reaches up to cup Louis' cheeks, the boy now laying flush against his chest. "What can I say? I don't want you worrying. I'm glad we didn't hit the truck, though. Did it hit anyone else?"
"Yeah. The guy behind us, but it was pretty minor. Everyone's okay, ambulance showed up to check on some people anyways."
"Good. Sorry for worrying you."
"Worrying me? Baby, you literally saved my life. Our lives. I was too busy staring at you biting your lip to even notice it," Louis mumbles, staring at said lip. (Which is still red and bitten, thank you very much)
"You can bite it right now if you'd like."
"I'd like that very much," Louis responds, smiling and leaning down to capture the younger's lips in his own.
Harry's hands go to wrap around the smaller's back, Louis' going to tangle themselves in his hair. "Beautiful," the older murmurs against his bubblegum pink lips.
Bleached-white teeth nip at a red-hot bottom lip, nibbling on Harry's lip ring as the younger holds back a moan underneath him.
After a few more moments, and maybe a few more pecks in between tongues clashing together, Louis pulls away with Harry's bottom lip in between his teeth.
"Fucking love it when you do that," Harry responds when Louis lets go of his lip. (And it's not like Louis is caught off guard by the curse except–well, he is, because Harry never curses. Like, ever. So he assumes that when the vacation's over, he'll go back to his flowery-ways)
Louis smirks. "I know," he responds cheekily.
It's quiet for a moment, as it usually is after the two boys kiss, both of them just staring at each other, breathing in the other's scent.
"So, to answer your earlier question, first thing I'd like to do in New York, you know, besides almost getting hit by a car, is get a bagel. Cause, like, New York bagels are supposed to be really, really good, you know?" Harry mumbles, looking up at Louis expectantly.
"Yeah. You wanna go to a shop? We passed one when we were driving. Looked like the line was out the door."
"Yeah, I'd love that. Is it, like, a date?" Harry asks, smiling so wide that his dimples sink in like craters.
"Haz, we're dating. We're in a relationship. You're my boyfriend," Louis responds, returning the smile.
"O-Oh," the younger says, looking down almost... sadly?
"But-" Louis rushes in quickly. "It's a date. People in a relationship still go on dates. This is a date, if you want. The whole day is, kitten."
Harry smiles, deep dimples digging into his skin. "Good," he mumbles.
Louis smiles widely, staring at Harry's bright green eyes. "You're a flower."
"What?"
"You're a flower. You're all bright and pink and all you ever want to do is make other people happy. And if someone, like, insults you, it's like they're stepping on your petals because you get really, really upset. Like, you get all broken up. Plus, you smell really good," Louis giggles, staring down at the younger.
"O-Oh. Thank you... I think?" Harry responds, laughing slightly.
"It's a compliment, don't worry." Louis moves and accidentally elbows Harry in the side.
"Ow!" He cries out.
"Sorry, baby," Louis responds, moving the younger's legs and sitting up in the seat.
Louis crawls to the driver's seat, watching as Harry does the same to the passenger's side.
Louis turns on the car, slowly pulling out of the parking lot and very, very carefully driving onto the main road.
Harry grabs Louis' hand, intertwining their fingers tightly.
"I love your hands," the younger murmurs.
Louis smirks. "When you're holding them, or when they're up your a-"
"Louis!"
"I'm just asking."
"Well, I meant when I'm holding them. But I like them the other way, too..."
Louis laughs. "My hands are too small."
"No, I like them that size. Because whenever you kiss me, and you cup my cheeks, they don't, like, take up my whole face. I dunno. They just fit," Harry explains.
Louis laughs again. "Well, alright then. I like your hands, too."
"Thanks."
It only takes a few minutes to get to the bagel shop, considering it's only a block down. Louis finds a parking spot quickly, cutting off some old woman who was trying to park there, despite Harry's whining.
"Louis! That was so rude of you," he mumbles, watching as the old woman sighs and drives away.
"Baby, this is New York. You eat or get eaten," Louis responds with a smirk and raise of his eyebrows, getting out of the car. He walks over to Harry's side, opening the door for him before he can do it himself.
"Thanks, babe," Harry says, grabbing his hand as he shuts the door and they walk into the shop.
It's a huge shop, wouldn't expect anything less in New York City, and there's a line wrapping around the inside of the building, curving towards the washrooms.
It's crowded, which is normal, but it seems a little bit... different. Harry can't really put his finger on it
That is, until he hears a woman in the front yelling about how she has to buy things for the New Year's Eve party she's having and-
Shit.
"Louis," Harry breathes out, eyes wide.
"Hm?"
"It's New Year's Eve."
Louis looks up at him, eyes equally as wide. "W-What?"
"It's New Year's-"
"No, I heard you. But how... how did we forget?" Louis asks, stepping forward as the line moves.
"I have no idea. What, um, what the hell?" Harry laughs. "What do we do?"
Louis presses his lips together. "Do you remember watching the ball drop as a little kid? And all those people would be screaming and a ton of bands would play?"
"Yeah?"
"That happens here. In New York."
Harry stops. "What? Really? I always thought that happened in, like, California or summat."
"Well, it does, but it also happens here. I think it happens at like, Times Square. Do you think we could go?"
"That'd be amazing, Lou, but how do we get in?" Harry asks.
"I dunno. I think it's free, you just have to get there in time. I'll look it up."
Louis looks up "New Years time square thing New York" on his phone. Nothing about tickets came up, or needing to buy them, so he assumes that it's a first-come, first-serve type thing.
"I think it's free. We just have to get there a few hours early. It's, um, it's about an hour drive away from where we are now."
"So, should we leave after we get the bagels, or..." Harry wonders, a glint of sadness in his eyes.
Louis laughs, eyes igniting in flames from the fond he feels for the boy. "Of course, m' love. I'd never leave without getting you your bagel."
Harry smiles for a second, eyes lighting up before the grin slips off of his face. "You... you mean get us our bagels, right?"
Louis looks at him, confused, before realization hits him and he sighs. "I, um, yeah. I just meant that you wanted your bagel and I didn't want to leave without getting it for you. You know, cause like, you really wanted one."
"But you're going to get one too, right?"
Louis gulps. "Um, yeah. I will."
Harry smiles, proud. He reaches down and grabs onto Louis' hand tightly, the older typing away with his free one quickly.
Harry figures he shouldn't be nosy, so he pays attention to the man scratching at his arse fiercely in front of them. Ew.
Louis types in "how many calories are in one of those really good bagels", impatiently awaiting an answer.
The page comes up, and he scrolls down quickly, trying to look at all the numbers and average one out to figure out how much weight he'd be gaining by this.
The average for one New York made, rich in fat bagel was about five hundred calories.
Well, fuck.
"Um... H-Haz, do you think we could, like, share a bagel?" Louis asks quietly, head facing his shoes.
Harry looks down at him, a hint of a frown on his face. "What do you mean? They're not very big as it is."
Well, if that didn't make Louis feel even worse than he already did. "I know... um, never mind. It was stupid. I shouldn't have asked. Sorry."
Harry sighs, turning to face Louis, holding both of his hands in the middle. "Lou... it's okay. You can eat a bagel. It's not... it's not that many calories and you don't have to get anything on it."
"I know. But, Harry, please, let's not do this here."
"No, we're going to do it here. Please, just order a bagel. Only eat half of it. It's okay."
Louis grimaces, Harry's words only making him feel worse. "Harry, stop. I really don't want to talk about this here. The bagels are just a lot of calories, I looked it up."
"So only eat half of it!" Harry says, the words being much louder than he expected, causing a few people to turn their heads.
Louis' heartbeat speeds up at the people staring at him. They're probably only looking behind him, or trying to find where the noise came from, but it still knocks the air out of Louis' chest.
"Harry, I really don't want to talk about this here. Please," he begs.
"I'll stop talking about it if you just get a bagel! I don't know where this came from, you were perfectly fine with getting one just a minute ago."
"Harry! I'm not fucking talking about this now!" Louis screams and yeah, there are definitely eyes on him.
"Louis, be quiet, you're causing a scene," Harry whispers.
"I'm causing a scene? You're the one that kept pushing when I told you to stop! Get me a fucking bagel, Harry, but I'm leaving," Louis screams, storming out of the restaurant with hundreds of eyes on him.
Harry watches as he leaves, and he curses at himself when he sees a tear slip down his cheek. Everyone stares at him, looks of disapproval and sadness bearing onto him.
He looks up and realizes that it's his turn to order. Harry knows he needs to get out of there as quick as possible to get to Louis, because he could be god knows where by now, considering he has the car keys.
"Yeah, hi, I'd like a plain bagel with nothing on it, and a blueberry bagel with blueberry cream cheese," Harry rushes out, so quickly that the cashier can barely understand him, what with his deep voice and heavy accent.
"Would you like those toaste-"
"No, thank you. I'm sorry, as you can see, I'm in a bit of a rush," Harry explains, motioning to the door, and the woman nods.
"Is that all?" She asks.
"Yes," he mumbles, and hands over the obnoxious twenty-five dollars.
"Thank you," she says as she hands him the two bagels in a bag.
He mumbles out his thanks, quickly rushing past everyone he has to get by and running out of the door.
"Louis?" He calls out the second he gets outside.
"Louis!" He screams, turning the way he saw Louis run and walking quickly, head turning every which way.
He pushes past people, calling out Louis' name and seeming a lot like a freak.
"Louis! Louis! Lou-" He calls out, turning his head to the right and seeing a small figure curled up into a ball, hidden in a tiny alleyway in between two stores.
"Oh, Louis," Harry whimpers, walking slowly towards his shaking body.
"G-Go away," Louis spits, not removing his head from his knees.
The comment stings, but the younger chuckles. "Hate to tell you, babe, but you're stuck with me."
Louis grumbles unhappily. Harry walks over and kneels in front of him, placing his hands on his knees, to which Louis flinches at, but lets him do it.
"I'm so sorry, Lou," Harry starts.
Louis stays silent.
"I shouldn't have pushed you. Especially not in a restaurant like that. I should have stopped when you told me to stop, and I didn't, and I'm sorry. I feel awful about that. I caused a scene and I'm so, so sorry, Lou," Harry pleads, heart breaking as Louis' head still stays in his knees.
"I, um, I brought you a bagel. It's plain, and it doesn't have anything on it, so it isn't that many calories. And I just... I'm so sorry. Please forgive me?"
Louis finally looks up, eyes red-rimmed and tear-stained. It breaks Harry's heart to see him like that.
"Oh, love, why are you crying? Did I make you that upset?" Harry asks, hands cupping his cheeks.
Louis shakes his head. "N-No, it wasn't you. I m-mean, you did p-piss me off, and m-make me feel like shit, but I'm n-not crying that much over it. I just... e-everyone was staring at me. And it k-kind of freaked me out."
"So... you're crying because you got scared? Because everyone was looking at you?"
Louis shakes his head, and not because Harry was wrong, but because Louis thinks he's a fucking idiot and he hates himself.
"I'm a fucking l-loser, I know. I'm a f-freak. Don't h-hate me," Louis admits, leaning over to cry into Harry's shoulder.
Harry sighs. "Baby, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."
"But, b-"
Harry moves so his body is blocking the street, hiding Louis from anyone's view.
"No one can see you now, can they?" He asks.
Louis purses his lips. "W-Well, no, but-"
"I'm so, so sorry for what I did. I didn't stop when you told me to and I should have. I caused a scene and I made you feel like this and I'm so sorry. You're not a freak or a loser and god, Louis, I don't hate you. I could never hate you," Harry explains, breathing out love onto Louis' face.
Louis sighs, wanting to be mad at Harry but finding it so, so hard.
"It's okay," he mumbles, because Harry's bright green eyes are bleeding pain and there's a hint of a smile on his face from the thought of him accepting his apology.
"No, it's not. I'm really, really, really sor-"
Louis leans in, his lips wet from snot and tears and it's probably really fucking disgusting, but neither of them bother to care. He shuts him up with the kiss, lips sliding against the younger's.
"Haz," he says when he pulls away. "Stop, p-please. I forgive you. It's okay. J-Just don't do it again, alright?"
"Alright."
•••
They get into the car and quickly drive back to the hotel, running to the elevator and impatiently awaiting the ascent to their room.
The minute they get to their room, the boys are running to their drawers and picking out some clothes that are a bit more appropriate for New Year's Eve in Times Square, of all places.
Once they're ready, and Harry's put on a bit of makeup (which may or may not have made Louis the slightest bit hard), they leave their hotel room and enter the elevator.
Harry notices that Louis' wearing his lilac sweater, which he's positively drowning in.
"Don't you look ravishing," Harry comments, eyes raking up and down the older (and more dominant, mind you) boy's body.
Louis blushes. "Thank you," he responds.
"You're still going to be freezing."
"You're not going to give me your jacket, Harry."
"Am too."
"Are not."
"Am t-"
Louis kisses Harry softly, but rough enough to show him just who's boss. A small hand flies up to cup Harry's cheek, and Louis deepens the kiss a bit, trying to make it as good as he can for the few seconds he has him alone.
Louis pulls away. "Give me your jacket, and you'll never get one of those again."
Harry looks at him, lips swollen, and pouts.
"Yes, I will," he says after.
"Try me, Styles."
"You wish, Tomlinson."
The elevator dings and opens, the two boys walking out (hand in hand, because what else?) after.
They walk into the parking lot, more speed walking than anything else, really, and Louis steps into the driver's seat.
Once they're buckled in safely, because Harry had to make sure, Louis starts the car and drives, rather quickly, onto the main road.
"D'ya know where we're going, exactly?" Harry asks, pulling out his phone to check the address.
"Of course I do. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I started driving us somewhere and I didn't even know where I was going?" Louis scoffs, hoping Harry doesn't see through his little lie.
"Oh, really? Then why did you just go straight when you were supposed to go right to turn onto the highway?"
Louis' eyes widen. "I-I, um-"
Harry laughs. "I'm only joking, babe. But you do have to turn here," he says, holding onto the side of the door as Louis makes the sharp right turn and drives onto the highway.
Louis sighs. "Just put the address in."
Harry laughs as he does so, sitting back once it's inputted. "I win," he says happily.
"No, you don't."
"And why is that, Louis?"
"Because I'm the one that's going to get sucked off while he's driving."
And well, Harry can't really disagree with that.
•••
So Harry bends over the dashboard and leans right in front of Louis' almost embarrassingly hard dick.
He pushes his pants towards his thighs, bobs his head just perfectly, and tries not to get them both killed.
Twenty minutes later, Harry's back in his seat, very, very content. (Mainly because of the way Louis looks so absolutely fucked out, and so absolutely in love. It makes Harry proud to know that he did that to him)
"You're fucking unreal. Absolutely unreal," Louis says, once his pants are back up on his hips and buttoned and he's finally gotten his breathing under control.
Harry squirms happily in his seat. "I–thank you, darling. But it's no skin off my arse. I love making you happy."
"Correction: You love making Louis Jr. happy."
"There's not really any junior about it, but alright."
Louis looks over at him, laughing under his breath. "Aw, baaabe," he drawls out, partly sarcastic but mostly serious.
Harry laughs. "But seriously, I like pleasing you. Seeing you happy is one of the only things that makes me truly happy, and knowing that I'm the reason you're so happy is icing on the cake. I don't care if I'm pleasing you sexually or just making you happy. I just like seeing you smile."
Louis looks at him for as long as he can without getting themselves killed, eyes glistening with the love and admiration Harry allows him to so easily feel.
"Like I said; unreal," Louis says after a few moments of silence, because that's all he can say, really.
Harry smiles, because that's all he can do, really.
•••
They arrive in Times Square quicker than they thought they would. With about six hours to spare before they gates close, they figure it'd be best to find a place to sit close to the stage and eat their bagels.
For one reason or another, there aren't that many people there yet. So they find a spot just feet from the stage where the performers will be, well, performing, and about fifty feet from where the ball will be dropping at midnight.
Louis eats his bagel (all of it, Harry made sure) very slowly, and Harry can see how he winces at each bite he swallows, but he has to do it. He has to...
Right?
Louis puts up a happy façade normally, and it always used to fool Harry. But, in these past couple of weeks, the two boys have grown immensely as if it had been months, and Harry feels like he knows Louis so much more than he ever did.
The first hour is spent sitting in the front on the floor, Harry leaning against the barrier and Louis sitting in between his spread legs, back to his chest.
("I think my arse is gonna fall off."
"Just deal with it, Styles. I'll kiss it better later.")
The second hour is a bit more languid, albeit spent making out in a spot where they thought they couldn't be seen. They were caught about forty-five minutes in by some old woman that politely asked them not to make out in front of her seven year old granddaughter, who found another child and asked if she could do that to him. It didn't go down well.
("My grandchild's spent the last forty-five minutes watching you two eat each other without my realizing it. Can you maybe not do that in such a public place?"
"Grammy, can I eat that boy's face like these boys were doing?")
Harry spends the third hour positively lavishing Louis for no reason other than that he just wants to, whispering sweet things in his ear as he sits in his lap.
("You're so gorgeous. I don't even understand how someone can be this gorgeous. You're just like, cute and hot at the same time, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and pretty, you're so god damn pretty.")
The fourth hour is spent with them face-timing the boys back at home, wishing them a happy new year and saying that they wish they could be together.
("Niall, I swear on the gods above, if you drink all my liquor, I will personally rip your balls out with a spoon and make you eat them."
"Sorry, Lou, but when you get home, there'll be two things you're missing. And one of them will be your spoons.")
Harry and Louis spend the fifth hour sitting around, doing absolutely nothing. So Harry decides to play a little game.
("Staring contest. Forty minutes. Never break eye contact. Go."
"Harry, this is stupid."
"Do it or I'll never go near your dick ever again, unless I'm cutting it off."
"Ready, set, go!")
By the last hour, a huge crowd has gathered around because it's nearing eight at night. Harry and Louis make sure to stand their ground, excitement bubbling in their chests when the cameras turn on and the live stream of the event starts.
"Lou," Harry whispers when the camera fans over them and it's absolutely obvious that they're on the telly.
"I know. Look like you're having a good time, they'll love it," Louis responds, so they both start jumping up and down and screaming.
The cameraman smiles, flashing them a thumbs-up before zooming in on them. Louis turns to Harry and cups his cheeks, bringing him in close and kissing him on the cheek while the younger just giggles happily.
"Wow, Lou," Harry screams over the impossibly loud crowd. "You really know how to work on camera."
Louis laughs. "Who knows, maybe we'll become famous singers or summat," he says, flipping his hair sarcastically. "I've gotta learn to get used to it."
Harry smiles at how absolutely adorable his boyfriend is.
"I love you," he says honestly, emotion dripping from each word.
Louis pauses his dancing and looks up at Harry. "I love you too," he replies, not breaking eye contact.
•••
"Holy fuck, guys," Niall says to Zayn and Liam. The Bradford boy is currently sitting on Liam's lap, a bit too busy to notice Niall, or bother to care, really.
"Guys. You're supposed to kiss at midnight. You're gonna get drool on their couch, and then they're gonna blame me, cause they always blame m-" Niall rambles, so Zayn rolls his eyes and moves so his face is buried in Liam's neck.
"Oh, come on. It's not like they haven't made their own stains on here," Liam comments. Niall shrieks.
"No, lads, look. They're on the telly!" Niall screams, and that seems to get their attention.
Zayn's head whips up and the three of them watch as Louis kisses Harry on the cheek, the two of them dancing and screaming and having, what looks like, a "fucking fuckton" of fun, as Niall would say.
"I fucking hate them," Zayn mumbles.
•••
Harry sees Louis shivering, he really does. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, the younger still sees him shaking.
"Here," Harry mumbles, slipping off his jacket and handing it to Louis.
Louis shakes his head. "Nope. You don't get to be the hero. I'm fine, thank you."
"Louis."
"No."
"Louis."
"Oh, fine, but only because you're absolutely begging that I take it!" Louis says overdramatically.
Harry smiles and slides it onto Louis' shoulders, the jacket hanging off of his shoulders and falling passed his hands.
"Thank you," Louis mumbles quietly.
"What was that?" Harry teases. "I can't quite hear you."
"Shut up."
"I'm the hero, and you know it."
"I'll let you believe it if it makes you happy," Louis says.
Midnight comes sooner than it should, really, what with the two boys dancing and singing until they'd lost their voices, and Harry's hips just stopped working after grinding on Louis' side for so long.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!-" The crowd yells, and Harry turns to Louis.
"Will you be my midnight kiss?" He asks sweetly, voice shy.
Louis chuckles, so fucking fond over his amazing boyfriend. "Wouldn't dare not to be."
"Three! Two! One!" The crowd cheers as the ball drops, couples all around them kissing.
Louis stands on his tiptoes and cups Harry's cheeks, leaning in and kissing him with as much passion as he possibly can. The fireworks illuminated in the sky only mimic how the two boys feel inside.
Harry breaks away from the kiss to rest their foreheads together. "I'm so irrevocably in love with you."
Louis grins wickedly. "I'm so irre–irro–ah, fuck it. I'm so fucking in love with you, Harry."
•••
The drive back to the hotel is nothing less than perfectly imperfect. The excitement still hasn't died down yet, and the mood has a special taste that itches the tip of the boy's tongues–and they just can't figure out what it is.
"God, I need a shower so badly. That okay if I take one?" Harry says at one in the morning once they've gotten back to their room and flopped onto the beds.
"Can I join you?" Louis asks with a smirk on his face, winking at Harry.
"Louis."
"Fine, fine. Have fun. Don't slip. If I don't hear anything in thirty-five, minutes, I'm going in there," Louis says, pressing a chaste kiss to the younger's lips before he walks into the washroom and shuts the door.
Louis sighs, leaning back on the headboard as he folds his hands in his lap.
His bright blue eyes scan the room, landing on Harry's suitcase that hasn't been fully unpacked yet. He stands up and walks over to it, deciding he wants one of Harry's jumpers so he can drown himself in his boyfriend's intoxicating scent.
He finds a jumper he likes and pulls it out, about to stand up and put it on before something catches his eye.
It's a brown journal, one Louis' never seen before. He assumes it to be Harry's journal, or diary, or whatever you're supposed to call it.
The jumper long forgotten, Louis takes the journal back to the bed and hesitates before opening it.
Yes, it's a huge invasion of privacy. But Louis just wants to see if Harry's written anything about him, so technically, it's not an invasion of anything, really.
Besides, what could Harry possibly have in there?
Harry turns on the water, scalding, as he prefers, and steps into the shower.
Burning hot water runs down his skin, making him hiss slightly. It soothes his aching muscles, washing the day's emotions down the drain along with the cinnamon-scented shampoo he uses.
Steam rises and wisps around the washroom, flying in a way that almost looks like fairies fluttering around. It makes Harry giggle.
Harry thinks about everything as he washes his hair. And by everything, he means his everything, which is Louis.
Basically, he thinks about Louis.
He loves Louis.
He's fucking perfect. But he just can't see that, is the thing. And it hurts Harry more than anything's ever hurt him before and-
Well, that's not true.
He hurt him.
He hurt him in a way that Louis couldn't do if he tried.
But Louis wouldn't try, would he?
Louis flips through the journal, laughing at the ten pages of jokes, even though maybe one of them is funny. But he laughs because Harry wrote them and he loves Harry. Simple.
The journal is quite run-down, and Harry's writing has definitely matured since the first couple of pages (that Louis didn't read, mind you).
So it seems like the younger boy has had it for a while, now.
Interesting.
Louis flips to a doggy-eared page, one that seems to be his most recent entry. The date in the corner says that he wrote that only two days ago.
Louis' eyes run over the couple of page, drinking in the way Harry slants his "t's" and stretches out his "r's".
Everything about Harry is so completely intoxicating, and this journal is the whiskey to Louis' collection.
Louis decides to actually read the pages, eyes scanning over the first couple of lines and-
What?
This isn't like Harry's other entries. The other ones were more of a storytelling kind, like, "today I did this" or, "today Louis and I did this".
This is almost like... a poem.
And as Louis reads on, he realizes what the hell this is about.
And he wipes the tears that fall from his cheeks before they can splatter onto the otherwise-perfect pages.
"Oh my god," he mumbles out loud subconsciously, eyes burning from the sudden rush of tears.
He continues to read, drinking in every word and letter and punctuation mark until his cup is empty, and he sees Harry's signature sign at the bottom of the page.
-H
And... oh my god.
Harry shakes out his hair, wrapping it up into a towel as he loosely ties another around his waist.
He walks back out into the bedroom, going over to his drawer and grabbing a pair of boxers, sliding them on underneath the towel and dropping it once they're on.
"It's been more than thirty-five minutes. I was kind of hoping you'd come in," Harry admits, chuckling to himself.
Harry looks at Louis, gasping slightly when he sees the state he's in.
"Lou, what's wrong? Are you okay?" He asks.
Louis lets out a small sob in response, causing Harry to immediately become concerned.
"Hey, Lou, what's up?" Harry murmurs as he sits down on the corner of the bed, and his voice is quiet, like he knows the taste of the mood in the air and he's not going to ruin it while he still has the choice.
"I–I, Har," Louis sobs, crawling over and curling into Harry's lap.
"Oh, Lou, what's wrong?" He asks, hand rubbing up and down his small back.
Louis pulls away. "Nothing's wrong," he whispers, looking at Harry with red rimmed eyes.
"Then why are you crying? Tell me what's on your mind," the younger says, hands reaching out to grab Louis'; he notices the leather bound journal laying on the pillow and-
Oh.
"You–you read my journal," Harry says, a possible hint of anger in his voice, but mainly coated with observation and slight confusion.
He knows which part he read.
How could he not?
"I... I'm sorry, H. I j-just saw it sitting in your suitcase and I know I had no right to look at it but I did and I read the..." Louis trails off, looking at Harry for help when he finds himself unable to come up with a word for the symphony of poems that Harry wrote.
"Entry," he offers.
Louis nods. "I r-read the entry and... fuck, Haz. That was–god, that was the most amazing thing I've ever read."
Harry grins, leaning into the praise.
"Is... is it about me?" Louis asks, voice strained and yeah, he already knows the answer but god, if it wouldn't feel like heaven, hearing the answer spill from Harry's lips.
"God, of course it is. Who else would I say anything like that about?"
Louis bursts into tears again because fuck, Harry really loves him. Loves him enough to have a secret journal dedicated to spilling his feelings into the ink that marks the pages. Loves him enough to have written something so pure, so beautiful, hand grasping the pen as it runs quickly across the pages, peachy skin over the undercurrent of blue veins.
"Harry, y-you're fucking talented. I've never read anything so... so." He finds himself wordless, unable to describe the first fallen leaf of autumn, the sharp pitch the tea kettle makes or the dismembered thoughts that were lost in its journey from Harry's mind to the page.
"It wasn't hard to write," Harry offers, as if that would make him seem modest in Louis' grey-blue eyes, filled with electricity fueled by Harry's words.
"What–what do you mean? Harry, that was a fucking work of art. You... you have a real talent. What you wrote–that piece... that wasn't even writing. That was art. That was a drawing strung across the pages, but with words instead of brush strokes. You're an angel, darling," Louis whispers, still feeling full even after the words spilled from his lips, but he knows he'll never be able to fully describe how he feels about the piece.
"Wow–god, thank you, Lou. Thank you so much. But that's just how I feel. I didn't write it for you to see, made it for my eyes only, but it really wasn't hard. You're a poem, my love. You're a poem waiting to happen, what with your tanned skin, laced with poison for blood and your eyes that scream for help, for attention. You just... you inspire me daily. And I didn't really know that I was, or could be, a writer, a poet, even, until I saw you."
And maybe Louis does start crying for the third time that night. But Harry just called him poetry. And he doesn't even fucking realize how amazing what he wrote was, how he could probably be published by thirty journals if he just sent that off.
"Sh, Lou, don't cry. Don't cry. It's not worth your tears, darling," Harry whispers, taking Louis' small figure into his arms.
And suddenly, as if the veins in Louis' body turned to an electric current, shooting fire into his heart and ice through his blood, he sits up.
"I've no words, angel. I just... fuck," Louis sobs, mind racing with thoughts that he knows there are no words to express. Knows that there's only one way to express the kind of love he feels for Harry.
He knows how he has to show Harry that he loves him just as much.
It's silent for a few moments, sonnets of love trapped underneath heavy breathing, until Louis speaks again.
"Angel?" He murmurs.
"Hm?" Harry responds, as if that was his own name.
Harry takes off the towel wrapped around his hair, throwing it off to the corner.
"This was like... like your love declaration for me. Wasn't it? It really was. You didn't even mean for me to see it, and I know we've been saying that we love each other and that we're in love with each other but... this was kind of it, wasn't it? This was your way of showing me that you love me," the older whispers, voice breathing out the words more to himself than to Harry.
"I... I don't really know, Lou. I mean, like, I suppose it kind of was-"
"This was your way of saying that you love me. That you, like, really love me. I think this was it, Haz," Louis mumbles, sitting criss cross in front of Harry and watching as the younger does the same.
"I mean... it kind of was, I guess. Yeah, I'd say it was. But I don't get what that has to do with anything..." Harry admits.
Louis sighs. He knows that there's no way he can prove to Harry that he loves him the way Harry just proved that to him. He can't write him a love poem, he can't sing him a song that would explain it, he can't do some kind of beautiful dance.
But he can give him something.
He can give him his innocence, his everything.
Louis slowly turns around, pushing Harry onto the bed softly. His wet hair fans across the pillow and the moonlight shines softly through the open curtains, that and the lamp next to them being the only light in the room.
Louis reaches over and turns off that lamp, the room still well lit due to the bright moonlight, and breathes in Harry.
Breathes in everything he is. Everything he has to offer, everything he's giving up for Louis.
"You look stunning in the moonlight, my love," Louis admits, leaning down to capture Harry's lips in his own softly.
Harry preens into the kiss, tipping his head up just that much, keeping the connection of their lips soft.
Harry can feel that this is different. There's a different sense of urgency–not one where they feel rushed, but one where they feel like they have all the time in the world.
"Lou, what are you doing?" He asks.
Louis looks up at him, eyes shining brightly. "You... you proved to me how much you love me. And now... now I'm going to prove how much I love you."
"W-What?"
"I'm going to show you how much I love you. I can't write something beautiful like you can. But I can... I can give you something I've kept in for a long time. I can give you my innocence," Louis mumbles, arms hurting as he keeps himself above Harry.
"H-How can you do that?" Harry asks, swallowing hard. But he knows. He knows how Louis can do it.
Louis presses a soft kiss to Harry's neck, right under his chin. "I can make love to you."
Harry swallows hard again. "O-Oh," he says, because that's all he can say, really.
"Is that okay, angel? Can I show you how much I love you?"
Harry thinks about this, he genuinely does. Thoughts and memories swirl through his mind, fingertips pushing bruises into his arms, his hips, his back.
But his arms are clear. His hips have no bruises, and his back no longer has a long gash on it from the knife he used to keep him in place.
Louis isn't him. Louis loves him. Louis will take care of him.
"Will... will you keep me safe? Will you take care of me?" Harry asks, though he knows the answer.
"God, yes. Of course, princess. Of course I will."
"You'll... um, you'll hold me afterwards, right?"
"Of course. Wouldn't do anything less." Louis doesn't even know why he's asking such a question, honestly.
Harry nods, swallowing thickly. "Then yes. Show me how much you love me, Lou."
Louis smiles widely, leaning down to kiss Harry once more.
Their clothes are stripped, thrown to the floor. Louis kisses Harry with the passion he deserves, he needs. He presses his naked body to the younger's, making sure he's ready over and over again.
"God yes, Louis, please, I'm ready," Harry pants, pleasure consuming his body as the older works slowly but diligently on prepping him.
The older grabs the condom he sneakily placed in the drawer just in case, spreading lube on himself generously.
"Louis, make love to me."
The older swallows thickly, pressing in slowly and kissing Harry to ease the pain.
Pleasure consumes the pain, ripping throughout Harry's body quickly.
The moonlight bleeds softly against their skin, love radiating off of their bodies.
"Is-is this it? Am I showing you how much I love you? Is this enough?" Louis pants, fearing that Harry still doesn't understand how the older's heart beats only for him.
"L-Lou, god, you've done it. You've given me your innocence, your v-virginity. That's the biggest–fuck–the biggest love declaration of the century," Harry responds, body on fire. "Oh m-my god, feels so good."
"This is the b-best new years–god, ever!" Harry cries, face contorting in pleasure.
Louis smiles.
And he smiles as Harry wraps his legs around his hips. He smiles as Harry leads the older's hands to his hair and tells him that, "yes, god, you can pull".
He smiles as he makes love to Harry for the entire night, moonlight replacing the love in his heart and fire replacing the blood in his veins.
•••
A/N:
"You're a poem waiting to happen, what with your tanned skin, laced with poison for blood and your eyes that scream for help, for attention."
thoughts on harry and louis finally having sex? why louis kept his virginity? why harry was so hesitant to do it? why louis got so scared with all of the eyes on him in the bagel shop?
THERE'S SOME GOOD ASS MOTHER FUCKING FORESHADOWING IN THIS AND IT'S SO GOOD THAT IT'S MAKING ME TEAR UP HONESTLY
cough bella knows exactly what it is and what it means so go attack her not me bella_beverly
anyways i wrote the "sex" (can you even call it that lmao) scene pretty much right after i wrote that almost car accident thing so i've been really really really eager to publish this chapter and yay now i finally can!
i really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. i know i enjoyed writing it
if there are any parts you really really liked, feel free to comment them!
anyways enjoy this little peaceful thing they've got going on cause that's gonna change soon :))))) cough bella cough. (not change for the worse, just change)
i hope you enjoyed the chapter!
i love you all so much
all the love.
zoe xx
INSTAGRAM: hoeforlarries
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