“I can’t believe that yer on a private jet and the first thing you do is school related,” Niall says exasperatedly from the seat across from Harry.
Harry nods and mumbles something incoherent under his breath, focused with his work as he scribbles down words on the piece of paper in his lap. His legs are too long to fit crisscross in the small seat, so he’s in an awkward angle with a pen in his mouth and laptop balancing on his thigh.
“Harry,” Niall whines pathetically, watching as he continues to write the essay needed for the application process for his online university courses.
“Yeah?” he asks distractedly, glancing at the screen of his laptop, then back down and writes some more.
Niall’s socked-covered feet shuffle across the floor until he’s in front of Harry, and he sinks down to his knees. His long, pale fingers reach up and fumble with the buttons of Harry’s jeans until they pop open, and just as he gets the zipper halfway down, Harry finally notices and jerks his hips away, accidently brushing up against the palm of Niall’s hand in the process. A brief, elicited moan tumbles past Harry’s pretty plump lips, eyebrows scrunched together, and a deep blush settles upon his cheeks as soon as the noise escapes.
“What’re you doing?” Harry asks in a hushed whisper, eyes skittishly peering around to see if the personal stewardess is anywhere nearby.
“Getting yer attention,” Niall says nonchalantly with a shrug, hands reaching back out to tug down Harry’s jeans.
“Yeah, well, you got it,” Harry whines, shoving away Niall’s hands again, “Will you stop, what if—”
“She won’t,” Niall reassures, pulling down the brunet’s jeans so their bunched up mid-thigh.
His fingers push underneath the white cotton shirt Harry’s wearing and skim lightly over the trail of hair that runs down below Harry’s bellybutton, making his hips buck up almost involuntarily. Niall shuffles a bit closer and ducks down, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin of his hip, over the tattoo that’s permanently imprinted there. Harry breathes out a noise that sounds like a mix between a laugh and a whine, his head falling back against the seat’s headrest as his fingers wind into Niall’s soft, feathery hair.
The whole aircraft unexpectedly gives a small jerk forward, forcing Niall’s face to press into Harry’s lap with a quick, sudden movement.
“’S like fate even wants me to suck yer dick,” Niall says with a loud laugh against Harry’s pale thigh, a laugh that makes Harry even chuckle a little. He starts to pull back, but a dark mark peeking out under from the fabric of Harry’s boxers catches his attention.
“What’s that?” he asks, almost too quickly to be considered just mere curiousness.
“What’s what?”
“What’s that?” Niall emphasizes, motioning towards the mysterious mark.
“Oh, that? That’s nothing,” Harry mumbles shyly, trying to squirm away from Niall’s gaze.
“No, no that’s definitely somethin’,” Niall says, lips spreading into a wide grin. He rucks up the black fabric and his smile quickly falls when it comes completely into view.
“It’s an N,” Harry murmurs, a pink tinge spreading across his face, “for Niall. Got it a day after our first fight. When I thought you weren’t coming back, I panicked, because I realized I had nothing to remember you by.”
Niall’s mouth opens and closes twice, throat tight, and he just stares back at Harry with a confused and questioning gape. He strokes over the small black tattoo, goosebumps prickling the skin around it from the rough pad of Niall’s thumb.
“I don’t understand you sometimes,” Niall whispers, giving his head a small shake before pressing a kiss to Harry’s thigh, teeth dragging across the soft skin in a playful nip.
Harry manages to get his pants back up and fully buttoned – it was no easy task though with Niall still knelt in front of him, the cheeky bugger. Time passes slowly, agonizingly, eight hours still left until they land at LAX. It’s at a point where any type of conversation would be heaven to the two – who knew an eleven hour flight could be so boring? It’s also at a point where Harry thinks it’d be a perfect time to bring up the photo sent to his phone – oddly enough from Niall – since they never really spoken to each other about it.
“I got that picture, in a text from you,” Harry starts off, and it doesn’t take long for Niall to realize what he’s talking about, letting out a guttural groan. (It’s a great reminder though that when he gets back to London, he’s going to kick Zayn’s arse.) “I think it’s . . . cute. Makes us look like a proper couple.”
“Is that why it’s your phone background?” Niall asks, and it was meant to come out in a teasing manner, maybe even smug, but his voice is soft, gentle.
“Yeah,” Harry mumbles back, voice just as soft; a trace of a blush still tinting his cheeks, “Is that why it’s still your phone background, too?”
And now it’s Niall’s turn to flush a light pink color, blue eyes bashful and downcast. He has a small smile, even with his lower lip tucked under his teeth, and it’s one of the first times Harry has ever seen him so quiet. Instead of words, Niall uses his lips to answer, pressing them to Harry’s gently, the warm, soft feel comforting and familiar. (Niall’s really glad that he moved to the seat beside Harry – totally convenient kissing distance.) They pull apart and lean their foreheads together, both smiling at the disgustingly cheesy moment that they’re having right now.
“I love—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Horan, but would you like some wine? The bottle was hand picked by Mr. Smith himself,” says the stewardess from completely out of nowhere, standing beside the two with a wide smile and an unnaturally straight posture.
There goes the cheesy moment.
“’M fine, thanks,” Niall says as nicely as he can manage – which isn’t much.
“And you, sir? You seem like you might need it,” she says to Harry, glancing towards Niall with a frown, but turns back to Harry with a smile.
“No, thank you,” Harry says, slipping his hand into Niall’s.
The stewardess nods and turns on her heal to leave, but looking back over her shoulder before doing so. “If you need anything, just push the button on your seat and I’ll be here.” She winks, and disappears behind a white sliding door.
Niall’s jaw is tight; teeth clenched so tightly that it almost hurts, and his face is a splotchy red, not like the small blush from earlier. He can feel the jealously buried deep inside slowly starting to emerge and course through his veins and burn like acid, his chest aching. He keeps his eyes trained to the carpeted floor, fingers drumming against his thigh in almost an anxious manner as it bobs up and down. He doesn’t care how childish he’s being, seeing your boyfriend getting hit on isn’t exactly the most pleasant thing.
“”S okay,” Harry whispers, giving a small smile, but Niall sits quiet.
“Do you realize how incredibly ridiculous you’re being? You’re jealous that a female flight attendant was flirting with your gay boyfriend.”
The corner of Niall’s lips twitch upward, and he lets out a breathy, short laugh. His shoulders slump forward, like all the tension was knocked out of him. He glances over to Harry and Harry can practically see the smile trying to fight its way onto Niall’s lips in their bright blue hue.
Niall leans over, eyes flickering down momentarily to the exposed skin of Harry’s neck and prominent collarbone, so pale and smooth, like it’s screaming to be marked up. Harry knows the look burning bright in Niall’s eyes all too well, and it’s not much of a surprise when Niall presses a soft kiss to his shoulder, trailing over until he reaches his neck, the spot where he sucks gently at the now hot skin, leaving behind a beautiful red color. The next love bite is much darker, almost purple, and Harry’s so caught up in the feel of Niall’s tongue and lips that his mind is swirling. It gives the perfect chance for Niall to reach over and press the little red button on the arm of Harry’s seat, and the stewardess makes her way out in a flash. Her eyes widen as Niall pulls away from Harry with a smirk, looking at the love bites scattered across Harry’s skin until he decides to look at the woman before him, who in which appears angry, face reddened.
“I think I’d like some of that wine now,” Niall says smugly, relishing in the way the stewardess jerkily nods and disappears to retrieve the rich bottle of liquor.
***
LA isn’t quite what they expected, the roads cluttered with too much traffic and sidewalks filled with people that have a “you do your own thing, and I’ll do mine” type of attitude. But the weather is nice, sunny and warm despite it being winter, and there’s a ton of different foods to try and a ton of different places to go to.
So when Niall gets a phone call from Janice from Midnight Records saying that the meeting with Mr. Smith is rescheduled to tomorrow, he takes the opportunity to take Harry out because with all the shit they’ve been through, he really deserves one normal night. They end up wandering around the city with only a map in hand for directions, the time close to midnight. The sky is pitch black, but with all the flashing lights around, it feels like its still daytime.
Their ears pick up on music amongst the buzzing chatter of voices and laughter, so they follow it and end up gathered around a small stage type thing set up with a group of four lads with instruments and amps, performing for the group of ten or so people staying to listen. There’s a guitar case set nearby with sparse change thrown in it, which is surprising since the band sounds pretty damn good, too good to be performing on the street for money.
“That was the last song for tonight, guys! Thanks for coming by,” calls out one of the guys with a wave after finishing their cover of Teenage Dirtbag, an Australian lilt evident in his voice. His hair is colored white and black, spiked up in all different directions.
The group of people slowly disperses, some tossing more money into the guitar case, leaving only Niall and Harry left.
“You were really great, lads. If I had any money on me, I’d give ya some,” Niall says; walking over to them with his tattooed arm wrapped around Harry’s waist.
“’S alright,” the blond one says with a smile, putting his guitar in its case, “but thanks!”
“Hey, ever thought about joining a band? Got a great voice, mate,” says the guy beside him with a wide, toothy grin. “’M Ashton,” he adds, stretching his hand out.
“Niall,” Niall says, shaking his hand. “And not really, more as a solo artist. But uh, how dya know I can sing?”
“Well, you were the only one singing in the crowd during Teenage Dirtbag, so . . .” Ashton trails off with a giggle.
“Oh,” Niall mumbles with an embarrassed laugh, heat rushing to his cheeks.
“I can’t really help ya by joining yer band,” Niall says moments later, taking his phone out of his back pocket, “but I think I can some other way.”
—
A/N: Helloooo! How are you guys? It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve updated, but I’m pretty much done with packing so new chapters should come a little quicker now. So what do ya think about the end? I’m pretty excited to add 5SOS into the story, and I hope some of you guys are too. We’ll just see how it works out! Make sure to comment/vote! Love you all :) x