Louis wishes he knew how to tie a tie.
Doing so, he thinks, should be common knowledge - well, if that's a thing - but he's never been presented with a tie-worthy occasion until now, in front of his bathroom mirror, and he's kind of panicking.
"Wear something nice," Harry had said. "We're going somewhere... well, I think you'll like it."
"Nowhere super expensive, please."
"Hush. You know money isn't an issue. It's our first proper date, Lou. I want it to be special."
So, needless to say, Louis plans on ordering the least expensive thing he possibly can. If he can tie his tie.
He huffs, thoroughly frustrated, and tugs at the fabric around his neck. "Jesus Christ."
"You look weird," comes a voice from the doorway. Louis scowls at his reflection. If he had a pound for every time one of his sisters barged into his room, they'd all be rich. He shoos Lottie, the intruder, out of his room with a stern warning and a sigh. His mother should be home by now. She promised she would be home to watch the girls. Taking four children on his Very First Date Ever is a less than desireable set of circumstances. As if on cue, the front door opens and two shouts of glee echo through the house. Thank God. Usually, when he visits Harry instead of the other way around, Louis leaves the girls under the watchful eye of his neighbor, Mrs. Payne. Mrs. Payne has a son, but he moved out last year or something - Louis doesn't know. Mrs. Payne blubbers about him a lot, but Louis usually tunes her out with a forced smile and a nod of the head. Polite, sweet, and reserved. They get on well enough. Asking Mrs. Payne to watch all four of his sisters from seven to - well, God knows when, Louis doesn't have a curfew - seemed out of the question, and rightfully so.
There's a knock on hi doorframe, effectively snapping him out of his time consuming thoughts. He whirls around, grasping his tie protectively. It's only his mum, of course, not a psychopath-murderer. Admittedly, Louis knows a tie isn't the best option for defending one's self. Technicalities, Louis scoffs to himself, and nothing more.
"My ba-"
"Mum, please." He tugs at his fringe, sheepish and flushed. "You're embarrassing me."
She places her hand on her chest. "I'm sorry, lovey, you know how I get."
"I know." Louis needs to stop staring at himself. But what if Harry turns up looking like a Gucci model? Louis scowls once again, irritated by his own appearance as he simultaneously realizes that Harry always looks like a Gucci model. Fuck. He's overthinking it, he knows, but it's hard to remain calm given the circumstances.
"When will you be home?"
"Dunno," Louis replies, a bit mindlessly at that; he's taken to sorting through his socks, trying to find a pair that corresponds with his outfit. He's wearing a sea blue button down, according to Daisy, (which he hopes looks alright in comparison to his eyes) along with the nicest black trousers he could find. His tie is black as well, and he's certain he'd look positively dashing if his tie wasn't a Hopeless Case and if his cheeks weren't the color of a ripe tomato. Well, positively dashing compared to what he usually looks like. "Knowing Harry, he'll fly us to Peru and we'll wine and dine, skin bathed in the moonlight; some poetic shit like that. He's classy, Mum."
"Don't swear. You haven't got a passport either," Jay tuts, sounding genuinely concerned. Louis gives her a look. "Oh, alright. Never mind."
Harry is due any moment now, Louis realizes with a pang. He sits on the edge of his bed, feeling a bit woozy, and motions for Jay to join him. She does shuffling over and patting Louis's thigh. "You'll have fun."
"I'm a bit worried someone from school may see us," Louis admits, a little ashamed of himself and hi tone. It's not Harry himself that he's worried about, but... people. He doesn't want the other people or their whispers or their stares. He wants to go out with the boy he like and enjoy himself. "And then they'll say things."
"What sorts of things?"
Louis looks at her. "The kinds of things they said... before."
"Darling, we don't live there anymore. You're all older now, more mature. I'm sure no one will say a thing."
"We're still kids, Mum. Kids will be cruel."
He feels gentle hands pulling at the tie draped around his neck. His mum ties it for him, lightly and quietly, and smooths his shirt down after she's finished. Louis feels himself relaxing into her touch almost involuntarily.
"Kids will be cruel," she says, "but that doesn't mean you have to listen to them."
********
Harry is here and he looks like a heavenly sin, which makes no sense, but it's the only comparison Louis can think of.
He's wearin this ridiculously long peacoat, so Louis can barely see his actual clothes, but his legs are smooth and bare, so Louis can only assume a skirt is involved. Fuck. His curls are down around his face, which is makeup-free (a surprise) except for the bright red lipstick he seems to be teasing Louis with, and Louis likes him so much. Being Harry, he's got his white Converse on - "I thought you said to dress nicely?" - and mismatched socks - "I said dress nicely, not I'm-going-to-a-wedding formal." - which Louis thinks he's okay with, really. He looks adorable and sexy and Harry, and Louis can deal with that.
Harry greets Louis with a kiss to the cheek and Louis doesn't even care to wipe the lipstick mark from his face, too smitten to even breathe properly. His mum fondles over them and insists on taking pictures, which Louis hesitantly agrees to, and then they're off. Louis forgets Harry has his own car sometimes, truly.
He still doesn't know where they're going, which makes him increasingly nervous, but he holds Harry's hand and he thinks that everything will maybe be just fine.
*********
"Where are we?"
Harry shifts the car into park. "My mum's bakery, of course."
Louis narrows his eyes, fumbling with his seatbelt. "Is it even open?" He gets a snort and a, "Doesn't matter!" in response, so he supposes he ought to just trust Harry. It's worked pretty well up to this point.
The bakery is closed, thank you very much, as made blatantly obvious by the flashing sign on the front door. Louis squeezes Harry's hand in his own until Harry goes to open the driver's door. "Wait!"
Louis scrambles to get out, shutting the door to his own side carelessly, and rushes around the back of the car. He slams his knee against the boot, but he ignores the irritating waves of pain in favor of making it to Harry. He opens the door like a proper gentleman, panting a bit, and leans against it. "Hi."
"Hi," Harry purrs, and Louis can't breathe.
"Hey."
"I think we've already gone through introductions, Lou," he teases, and Louis turns beet red again, marvelous. He feels like he does that a lot. "But hi."
"Think we've already gone through introductions, H." Louis isn't that proud of his comeback, knows he can do better, but Harry is making him really weak in the knees because Louis wants to do things to him and it's not okay.
"You are such an idiot," say Harry, voice muffled by his giggles, but he seems to want to humor Louis. He takes Louis's extended arm and they begin to walk to the door, hand in hand, and a new worry suddenly strikes Louis. He stops walking. "Harry?"
"Hm?"
"Will your mum be... in there?"
Harry's brow furrows. "Why do you ask? You've met my mum before."
"Yeah, but... that was before we..." he trails off. He thinks Harry understands though, because he hears a soft hushing noise from the other boy.
"No, she won't be," he pauses, kissing Louis's cheek, "I wouldn't worry about it." Louis gets another peck to the cheek, which he returns with newfound confidence, but Harry cheekily tilts his head so that Louis kisses his red painted lips instead. Louis's hands land on Harry's hips as if there's a magnetic pull or something, and Harry tugs at Louis's hair as if it's the only thing keeping him on the ground. Louis really really likes this, thinks he could maybe stay here (forever) if he had to. Harry's starting to get into it, Louis knows, because his touch is growing a little intense and his tongue pokes clumsily at Louis's own lip, to which he finds himself groaning at. Of course, as always, an unwanted voice spoils it.
"Keep it in your pants."
Both boys jump apart, Harry's hands still latched in Louis's hair that he had spent so long on, and Louis looks sheepishly at the source of the voice. It's a girl, and Louis isn't sure if he's seeing doubles or if this girl just happens to look just like Harry. Her dark hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, and she's wearing a uniform that leads Louis to believe she works here.
"Lou, this is Gemma." And, oh, that makes sense. Louis struggles to find an appropriate response to her amused and overall smug expression. Harry lets go of his hair, thank God, but their hands immediately link together again. Gemma rolls her eyes.
"I will be your server this evening," she drawls in an overdramatic and, well, rather posh voice if Louis has ever heard one. He glances nervously at Harry, who's grinning ear to ear like a bloody idiot, before he turns his attention back to Gemma. "If you'll follow me."
They walk inside, and Louis's already flushed body is enveloped in a blanket of pleasant-smelling warmth. Or heat. Comes along with several ovens being used at the same time, he supposes. There are a few small tables with chairs and a cute little booth against a window in the back; it seems to be where Gemma is leading them. He looks over at the glass display cases, which are filled with all sorts of scrumptious looking pastries, and he wonders why he's never had Harry take him here before.
When they reach the booth, Harry slides into the side opposite Louis and folds his hands on the table. "The usual, Gem."
Gemma shuffles away, and Louis cocks an eyebrow at Harry at the same time Harry begins to struggle with taking his coat off. He finally gets it off, and, okay. He's wearing a long sleeved white shirt, modest enough, but the skirt he's wearing is tight and black and Louis honestly wasn't prepared, okay? He's glad they came somewhere private, because he appreciates it a lot when Harry has the confidence to wear whatever makes him happy and he isn't sure he'd feel that way if they had went somewhere else. He reaches for Harry's hand again, simply because he misses the way it feels. Harry smiles at him, softly, and he looks so beautiful. Louis doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but it must have been something pretty fucking excellent.
"You're so beautiful," he blurts, because it's the only thing he can think of now. Harry preens under the attention, Louis can tell, because he blushes without shying away. "I- I don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me."
"I could say the same thing," says Harry, leaning closer, "I'm constantly at a loss for words when I spend time with you, Louis. You don't realize how incredibly amazing you are, and it's a damn shame. So my goal is to make you aware of it, because you need to know. You need to know how important and sweet and cute and lovely and-"
Gemma returns with two glasses of ice water and a pair of rather elegant looking danishes. Louis's stomach rumbles in approval. "What else can I get you, sir?"
Harry takes a drink of water in response, but then his eyes widen comically. "Shit, the lipstick!" Louis has to suppress his giggle behind his hand, because he doesn't want to laugh at Harry during what seems to be a very serious misfortune, but he lets it loose when Harry darts off to the loo to 'just fix it, don't worry'.
And then he realizes he and Gemma are alone.
She clears her throat, making Louis shrink a bit as she plops down in Harry's spot. He feels like he might pass out from fear, even though she's smiling, and even says a quick prayer. Sue him.
"So, you like him, yeah?" she asks. Louis nods enthusiastically, so hard he thinks his head might pop off. Gemma's smile fades a little. "Be careful with him."
"Huh?" Louis blanks.
"You have no idea what he's dealt with. He's fragile. Do not, for the love of God, try to change him."
"I wouldn't."
"Don't." She runs a hand through her hair. "He's a big dummy and he'll never admit it, but he needs someone to be there for him. He needs someone who can-"
"Look," he starts, "I know you're his big sister and you want to protect him, but you have got to trust me. If I know Harry at all, then I know he wouldn't waste his time on someone who he didn't want around. I also appreciate you looking out for him, but I'm... I really like him, okay? Don't try to scare me away, 'cause I'm not going away."
"Louis." He whips his head around and sees Harry there, of course, and he wonders just how many times people are going to overhear things not meant for their ears this evening. "Babe..."
"I'll leave you two," Gemma mumbles, looking quite satisfied, and makes her way back into the kitchens. Harry takes his former spot across from Louis, but he grabs Louis by the collar of his shirt and kisses him roughly before Louis can even utter a single syllable. When Harry releases him, Louis falls back against the booth limply, running his thumb across his lower lip.
"You- motherfucker," Harry laughs, a little hysterical, and Louis thinks they're becoming a stereotype. "Why are you so great?"
"I-"
"Makes me so scared to lose you," he admits, voice smaller this time, and he picks at his danish. Louis bites his lip.
"You won't ever lose me, H." Harry looks up at him. "I promise."
Without a word, Harry sticks his pinkie out.
And without any hesitation, Louis links his and Harry's together.
*to be continued bc i have no wifi and I hate writing on mobile so the next chapter will be a continuation of this*