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Harry wakes up feeling groggy and regretful. He'd stayed up late last night, researching everything that he possibly could about BDSM and being a submissive. It was hard to find ones not directed towards women, but once he did find one for men, he'd read the whole website from top to bottom. Which would be fine, except it forced him to stay awake hours after when he would normally be sound asleep.
Still, he gets up dutifully when his alarm goes off, mostly getting ready with his eyes closed as he tries to hold onto precious moments of calm. He makes sure he's got his bag of candy—fully stocked, this time—and hurries out the door.
In the hallway at school, a few students wave at him, making him think he didn't do a half-bad job yesterday. He can only hope that he'll keep up his streak for the next two days.
When he makes it to the classroom door, he pauses to look through the window, because he can hear voices inside. He wouldn't want to walk in on Louis talking to the principal, or something. He hears Louis' voice, and another one that has to be a student—his voice is deep, but squeaky in some places.
"I need this class to graduate, sir," the boy pleads. "You can't fail me."
"Perhaps you shouldn't have cheated, then," Louis says. Harry can tell he's struggling to hold in a laugh. "I've got work to do, Stan. If you don't have anything important to say, I'd rather you left now."
An enraged groan sounds the room as the student whips open the door, disregarding Harry as he storms away.
"Um," Harry whispers, poking his head through. "Is it, uh, safe?"
Louis' previously stressed face morphs into a grin. "Harry!" he cries. "I sort of thought you'd have stayed home today, or transferred."
"No can do," Harry shakes his head. "My professor assigned me this class, so here I am."
"So you're only here for your professor?" Louis teases, standing up from his desk and cocking his hip against it as he thumbs over a copy of The Taming of the Shrew .
"Among other reasons," Harry giggles, stepping closer. "This is all your fault, by the way. I was up all night studying. Not studying for any classes , mind you—studying weird sex and different ways to make people cry."
Louis raises his eyebrows. " You want to make people cry?"
Harry narrows his eyes and frowns. "What if I did?"
Putting his hands up in a surrender position, Louis shakes his head. "Your choice, man."
Finally relenting, Harry slips back into an easy grin. "I'll leave that to you, I think," he directs his eyes down to Louis' book, asking, "What's that for?"
He doesn't expect the heavy sigh that leaves Louis' mouth upon being reminded of Shakespeare's play. "Unfortunately, this is our next school-mandated teaching material. I, personally, think this play shouldn't be taught to impressionable young women, but I have no say in the matter."
Harry can't help but laugh at how dramatic Louis is. "What's so, uh, bad about it?"
"Do you want me to rant about sexist themes in The Taming of the Shrew or do you want to talk about something more interesting for the five minutes you have me today?"
Harry has to scrunch his nose up to keep from smiling ridiculously. "Right. What's the deal with that Stan kid?"
"Well, I have to say, he was quite clever," Louis smirks. "The assignment was for every student to memorize twenty five lines of any Shakespeare play, and act them out for the class. If they brought a prop, they got extra credit. Stan, here, made his own sword out of cardboard, and he was looking at it pretty intensely as he said his lines. After class I asked him if I could keep the sword to hang above my desk, and, sure enough, his entire monologue was written on the blade. Creative, don't ya' think?"
Harry laughs incredulously, trying to imagine how that stunt would've ever worked. " A plus for effort?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "He's lucky I didn't turn him into the school board. Could've gotten him suspended."
Students start filling in after that, forcing them to cut their conversation short. Harry sets down all his stuff, reading over the lesson plans for the day. All they're doing is watching one version of The Taming of the Shrew on DVD, so he may not need the candy at all. As soon as all the teens are accounted for, Louis says goodbye and heads off to his meeting.
"Call me tonight, yeah?" Louis asks quietly, just for Harry.
Harry smiles and nods as he shuts the door behind him. When he turns around, the entire class is silent, some even sitting with their hands folded on top of the desk. Suspicious, Harry asks, "What's just happened?"
One fake flower crown-wearing girl in the front row cries, "Mr. Tomlinson likes Mr. Styles!"
The room erupts into chaos as everyone starts laughing and screaming, singing childish "sittin' in a tree" songs and relentlessly teasing Harry about it. He doesn't have the heart to tell them to stop, or else they'll think of him as a stuck-up, no-fun substitute teacher. Instead, he simply rolls his eyes and waits for them to quiet down.
They do, eventually . When the room is quiet once more, Harry says, "Take that up with Lo—Mr. Tomlinson, not me."
He has a feeling he's just gone and made it worse. He can only pray that he won't get thrown out for being unprofessional. Louis doesn't seem like the type to do that, but what if a student reports him?
He scans the faces in the crowd, looking for anyone who might seem uncomfortable, and finds none. That's a good sign, at least. He relaxes and allows himself to laugh a little, finally reining in the class while he gets the DVD set up.
The day goes by quicker than yesterday, that's certain, but Harry still hasn't been sold on the benefits of teaching high school.
That evening, he does what Louis told him to, and calls him. It rings only once before Louis answers with a chirpy, "Hello!"
"Hey," Harry bites his lip against a smile. "Um, fair warning, your students think we're dating."
There's a tiny giggle on the other line as Louis says, "They think I'm dating everyone. Once, when I first started teaching, my stepdad came into help me get situated and all the kids started singing Mr. Tomlinson and Mark sitting in a tree . They sang that today, right?"
"Yeah," Harry laughs. "A classic, that one."
"Indeed," Louis shuffles something around, and Harry can hear his feet pit-pattering on the floor. What sounds like a fridge opens, and then, "So, um, I've got a ton of this really expensive coffee that my friend brought back from his vacation, but I'm not a coffee drinker. And you seem like you'd appreciate that kind of pretentious thing. Uh. So, do you want to come over, maybe?"
Harry stops breathing for a moment, his heart rabbiting on while his lungs deflate. "Oh," he says, a smile spreading across his face before he can stop it. Not that anyone is watching, of course, but for posterity's sake. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He's not the coffee connoisseur Louis thinks he is, but he's always up for a cup.
"Great," Louis says. He's got the kind of voice that always gives away whether he's smiling or not, and Harry is happy to hear that he is. "I'll text you my address. Just show up whenever, I'll be here."
He has full intentions of waiting a bit, lest he look desperate, but as soon as the phone has been hung up, Harry is throwing on a clean t-shirt and something a bit sexier than work khakis, and heading out the door. He punches the address into his GPS with a wild sense of desperation—he hasn't had a crush this strong since grade school. And if he's reading the signals right, then Louis likes him back. Of course, there's the whole Louis is a dom who makes people cry and Harry is a (maybe?) sub who is inexperienced and a little bit scared thing, but they'll iron that out later. For now, coffee. Harry can do coffee.
He can already smell the rich tones of it seeping underneath Louis' apartment door. He doesn't need to check the room number, not when it smells as if Louis has just opened a coffee shop in his own kitchen. It doesn't take an espresso extraordinaire to tell that it's strong stuff, and that Louis definitely wasn't lying when he said it's expensive and pretentious.
Harry breathes in once, twice, and then knocks on the door. It opens less than thirty seconds later, so fast that Harry can hear the knob colliding with the other side of the wall. "Shit," Louis mutters, closing the door a bit so he can inspect the damage. "Ah, sorry. Need to get one of those springy things. You know? Anyway. I'm so glad you're here."
"I'm glad you invited me," Harry says politely. The words might sound like just a formality, but his tone is anything but. "How was your day?"
"Awful," Louis groans. "I had to drive for two hours just to get to the damn building, then the meeting lasted for five hours. Five hours, Harry. The meeting was all about elementary teachers anyway, none of it was even relevant. But state regulations, you know. Gotta get my training in. How was yours? Aside from the K-I-S-S-I-N-G'ing, I mean."
Harry blushes under Louis' smirk. "Good. It was good. They all liked the movie you told me to play, I think."
"I'm suspicious," Louis laughs. "They're never this good for a substitute. What've you done to my children?"
Harry does one of his embarassing, full-body cackles, the kind that immediately ruin a situation because the comment is not nearly funny enough to warrant a laugh that loud. He's done them since he was a kid, and if there was one thing he could change about himself, it would be that damn laugh.
Louis looks startled for a second, but then he's set off in a fit of laughter as well, his eyes glittering. "That's—That's mad cute, you know."
"'S embarrassing, is what it is," Harry blushes under the compliment. "But thanks."
"No, no, I like it," Louis nods, like he has the final word in the argument. "It's cute. You're cute. Uh, I probably shouldn't say that, yeah? Too soon?"
"I saw you lead a naked man around on a leash and collar yesterday, I don't think there's such a thing as 'too soon' for us."
Louis snickers, pointing his finger up in a you got me there fashion. "Good, then. I think the coffee's done."
The machine beeps as soon as the words are out. As Louis reaches up to grab two mugs, a sliver of his stomach pops out of his shirt, and Harry is reminded of his first meeting with Louis. He can hardly believe that it was only two days ago. There's something about him that makes it feel as if he's known him for ages—and maybe it's just because Harry watched him do something so intimate with someone else, but it's something else too. Something more.
"You okay?" Louis asks with a smirk. "Got something on my shirt?"
Harry rolls his eyes and refuses to let himself be embarrassed. Not when Louis has been so forward all night.
"So how's college life?" Louis asks, only his eyes visible over the rim of his mug.
Harry is a bit taken aback, considering how young Louis must be; he couldn't have left college too long ago. Is he making conversation or pulling his leg? "Um, it's good. Well, not good necessarily, but it's fun sometimes. And classes aren't so bad. Did you go to college here?"
"Nope," Louis says. "I went to uni in Doncaster. You haven't heard the accent? Jesus, I've only lived in the states for a few years and I'm already losing it."
Now that Louis mentions it, he does indeed have an accent. Harry has no idea, frankly, where Doncaster is, but he's assuming it's in the UK. Or... Britain? Is that what they call it? He doesn't want to expose himself as being completely clueless, so he says, "I just figured it was a personality quirk or something."
Louis smirks. "Personality quirk. I'll use that when I go back home. God, I don't even want to imagine how badly my parents will make fun of my accent now."
It's truly astonishing that Harry hadn't noticed his voice before. Sure, the accent is watered down and he's been using a fair bit of American slang since he's met him, but it's there nonetheless.
"Why'd you move, then? If your parents are still there?"
"The kids in Doncaster are little shits. Unteachable." Louis takes another sip of coffee, cringing at its taste. "Nah, it's more because I had never really travelled before. Like, my friends and I would take trips to London every once in awhile, but that was the farthest I'd gone from home. To be honest, I picked up a road map of the US, closed my eyes, and decided to move to the first place my finger landed on."
"It conveniently landed right on L.A., did it?" Harry snickers.
"Well, so," Louis scrunches his nose up in a pout. "It landed on middle-of-nowhere Idaho . You can't blame me for choosing again. Why, do you have a better suggestion for where I should move next?"
"You're moving again?" Harry can't help the slight disappointment. He would quite like to get to know Louis.
"No, wasn't planning on it. I like these students way too much for that. And, you know. Where else would I find a good friend who owns and runs a BDSM sex club? Not an everyday occurrence, that."
"So who's the mysterious friend?" Harry asks. "You didn't point him out to me."
Before he answers, Louis takes his own mug of coffee and gestures towards Harry's cup. He's got no clue what he means by it, so he simply nods in confusion. Louis takes his own mug and pours the coffee out into Harry's. "Nasty, nasty. I'm making some Yorkshire, want any?" he asks, standing up again. Harry shakes his head politely. "Oh, but the friend? That's Zayn. He's wicked. He's an ex-pornstar—completely by choice, by the way, not because he needed cash—and he opened the club a few months before I met him. We met at a bar and he said he could 'smell the dom' on me and handed me his business card. Got curious, showed up. At that time, it was relatively empty, so he was my sub. And that's it, mystery solved."
"Is he still your sub?" Harry asks.
He's still not sure how it all works. Liam mentioned that Louis is his dom sometimes, and that he doms other people, but he doesn't know if there's a limit of sorts.
"No, not anymore," Louis laughs. "He's amazing, though. He's verse, he flips between dom and sub, and he's equally good at both. If he's ever free one night, he'd be a good first choice for you. Just a suggestion."
"Oh," Harry's eyes widen. He had been of the impression that if he did it at all, it'd be with Louis. "I—I don't, uh."
"Sorry, sorry, ignore me. You don't have to do anything. And if you did want to try something, you can always still come to me."
Harry hides his grin behind his coffee cup. Nice.
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The last day of Harry substituting for Louis' class goes off without a hitch. The students all seem to genuinely like him by now, greeting him by name in the hallways. It makes him feel important. And even though nothing he taught in class was particularly intensive—though they did have one class discussion about a book Harry has never read, which was stressful—he feels like he did a good job. Compared to his attitude on the first day, he wouldn't be completely opposed to being placed in a high school for his upcoming teaching assistant position. The high school slots are extremely easy to get into, due to their almost non-existent demand. Everyone thinks they want to teach kindergarteners until they actually walk into the classroom. Self-deprecatingly, Harry realizes that now he would fall into that category.
Harry only substitutes for the first half of the day, before Louis is officially freed from his meetings and is able to take over. He offers for Harry to stay awhile—to observe the learning —and even though his brain is saying " No, go home! Catch up on sleep! " his mouth forms the words "Yeah, alright."
So there he is, sitting in a surprisingly comfortable desk chair—fitted with wheels and everything—in the front corner of the classroom while he watches Louis in his natural element.
He can tell he was made to be a teacher. The way he flits around the room, can read a student's confusion from just one glance at their eyes, how well he knows the material—he was born for this job. The students know it too, since they show him the utmost respect. Louis gets them to stop talking all at once with just one tap on a little metal bell. When he begins, Harry doesn't even listen to what the book Louis is discussing is about, but rather the enthusiasm he speaks with. He commands attention and respect without being harsh and unlikeable. Harry is in awe.
There are only a few times where the students become unbearable, namely when Louis slips up and calls Harry "love", causing an uproar of jeering. "I'm British ," Louis insists, though his cheeks are suspiciously red. "I call everyone love."
It doesn't make a difference for Harry, still sends him into a fit of smiles either way.
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