bring your love, it's on your tongue (h/l, l/z)
title: bring your love, it's on your tongue
pairing(s): harry styles/louis tomlinson, side liam payne/zayn malik
word count: ~12,000
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
summary: AU. louis ran away to spain after a breakup and now he's back to a snowy london winter and this kid allegedly called harry styles.
notes: everyone's switching to ao3 and i know i should too but i have a weird loyalty to lj and ugh idk i suck i'm sorry. okay so anyway! this was meant to be some sort of cute cuddly winter fic, and i guess in a sense it is, but then my need for actual plot took over and this happened. this is for tracedust, who demanded i write this ("lovingly"), and influira and wandersfound because "after all this time?" "always", and mady and sadie and daniella for pumpin me up, and teapirate because it's her birthday!! massive and huge thanks and love to checkthemargins for encouragement and playing therapist and not letting me take the easy way out.
Louis curls tight into his coat as he hurriedly walks down the snowy sidewalk, trying as hard as he can not to slip. He slipped earlier, when he was leaving his flat, and it was quite humiliating. Like, at least ten people saw. Three laughed. Two did that horrified alright, mate? courtesy yell. All Louis could really do is stand up, laugh a little at himself, and brush the snow off his arse.
But, really. No repeats necessary, thanks.
He's coming up on the cafe now, just one more block. He can make it. He's been promised a free coffee, and he hopes to fuck Zayn's got some whisky hidden away to make it Irish. Or maybe Niall will be in. Niall's always got whisky secreted about his person. Louis balls his icy fingers in his coat pockets and noses deeper into his scarf. The snow's coming down quite quickly now, making his view white and hazy. The streets are quiet and blanketed and the trees are reflecting the light off the streetlamps.
It's all very romantic. Louis is incredibly cold.
Finally, finally, he reaches the door.
"Bloody fucking shit motherfucker bastard wank shit fuck!" he exclaims as he slams inside. "It's fucking freezing out there."
Zayn glances up - well, fair play, everyone glances up - at him as the door slams behind him.
"And if it isn't the ever-polite, soft-spoken Louis fucking Tomlinson," Zayn says, wiping his hands on his apron. His smile is stretched all the way across his face, eyes crinkling so his lashes brush together. He comes over to Louis, struggling to hang his coat on the rack, and throws his arms around him. "Shit, mate."
Louis grins back, tucking himself close into Zayn's warm body. "Hi," he whispers.
"Hi," Zayn says back, smiling down at him, softer now, private. "Missed you."
"Missed you back," Louis says, rubbing his icicle nose under Zayn's jaw. He pulls away slightly, surveying the inside of the shop, with its soft lighting and Zayn's paintings along the walls and the mismatched armchairs and dark wood coffee tables. "Looks lovely in here, Zayner, really."
Zayn stands back, watching him, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. He shrugs, glances away, bashful. "Thanks. Hey, let me introduce you around."
Louis nods excitedly and loops his arm through Zayn's elbow, walking them up towards the counter. There's a tall pretty boy with big pretty brown eyes and a big pretty mouth and big pretty shoulders standing behind in, watching them curiously. He offers Louis a small pretty smile.
"Hi!" Louis exclaims. "I'm Louis Tomlinson. I'm your boss's best mate, so I'll require free muffins and love."
The boy blinks a bit, but his smile stays put. He holds out a big pretty hand to Louis. "Hi. I'm Liam."
Zayn sighs. "Lou, if I could afford free muffins for myself even..."
Louis pretends to pout for a moment, before smiling back at Liam. "Fine. But I'll still require that free love."
Still standing, smiling, and looking confused, Liam delicately extracts his hand from Louis's grip, glancing to Zayn deferentially.
"Yeah, mate, you are quite needy that way," Zayn says, tugging him in closer to whisper in his ear, "But not Liam, yeah? We're kind of..."
Louis pulls back, eyes widening a bit in understanding. "Zayn Malik. Zayn Malik. I leave for six months and you've gone and fallen in love with someone else? How could you?" he all but shrieks, voice rising hysterically.
Liam's mouth falls open and he steps back from the counter, looking horrified. "I don't-"
"Ignore him, Liam," Zayn says sharply, teeth clenched. "He thinks he's funny."
Grinning beatifically, Louis turns back to Liam. "I kid, I kid. You're a lucky boy. How long did it take him to ask you out? Were there months of stuttering and dropping plates and avoiding eye contact and walking away in the middle of sentences? Because, I tell you what, mate, Zayn here isn't the most-" a hand wraps around his mouth, effectively cutting him off.
"You've been back not five minutes and you're already making me want to strangle you, Lou. Were you going for some kind of record?" Zayn pinches his side and it's decidedly not a love-pinch.
"Oi!" Louis cries, squirming away. "Be nice to me! I've only been back five minutes and you're already hurting me!"
"I'm sorry about him," Zayn says to Liam, rolling his eyes. Liam laughs nervously.
"You're not...?" he trails off, glancing back at Louis.
Louis takes pity on him. "No, mate, no, no. Strictly best friends, like. But I'll warn you, I am the worst third wheel. So, um. I hope you don't think I'm too annoying already."
Zayn laughs a little, smiling at Louis. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head ruefully. "But he'll grow on you. Like a little parasite."
Louis sticks out his tongue. Liam laughs.
"So, anyway," Zayn says, sliding back around the counter. "Where's Harry?"
"Oh," Liam says, "I think he took a break?"
"Another?" Zayn rolls his eyes. "Don't I pay him to, like, work?"
Liam shrugs. "It's the face, no one can resist."
Louis glances up from where he was studying the list of tea. "Wait, what? Who? Irresistible faces? I'm intrigued."
"Oh, no," Zayn says to Liam, ignoring Louis. "I forgot. This is going to be insufferable."
"What?!" Louis demands.
"What?" Liam asks.
Zayn's still speaking exclusively to Liam. "Louis. When Louis meets Harry. This is... well, you'll see."
"What?" Louis says, leaning over the counter to peer into Zayn's eyes. "Am I going to like him? Am I going to love him? Is he perfect?"
"Shit," Zayn mutters.
Liam just laughs. "Can I get you anything, Louis?"
"Yeah, yeah, a cuppa Yorkshire, please, mate, thanks," he says, distracted.
Liam nods and and digs around for a teabag. "Where have you been? Zayn says you've been gallivanting, but I'm not quite solid on what that means."
Louis laughs. "I took the semester off and went to Spain! Andalucia and Valencia, mainly. I ventured up north a bit. And Madrid, of course."
"Wow," Liam says, eyes widening. "That sounds amazing."
Louis nods. "It really was. But now I'm back and broke and cold and lonely! Speaking of free love, mate, seriously - check out Spain."
Liam chuckles. "I'm not really a free love kind of guy, I guess you could say."
"Nah." Louis smiles down at the counter. "Really gotta work for it with Zayner, don't you?"
"Hey now," Zayn says. "What's that mean, then?"
Liam slides a steaming mug over to Louis and Louis wraps his hands around it, finally sinking down into one of the barstools. "It took me months until you even deigned to acknowledge my presence, love. And I sat with you every day in maths."
Zayn smirks. "You were annoying as fuck."
"I wanted to be your friend!"
"You wanted to copy my homework."
Louis pauses, concedes. "Well, okay, but I also wanted to be your friend!"
"Ugh," Zayn says to Liam. "His way of trying to be my friend was turning my backpack inside out, tugging on my earlobes when he had a question, and doodling rude cartoons on my notes."
"I am charming," Louis sighs, smiling wistfully.
"Parasite," Zayn says, raising his eyebrows to Liam. Liam chuckles.
A slam echos through the room, coming from the back of the shop. Louis glances up and Zayn takes a deep breath, speaking quickly in low tones to Louis. "Okay, Lou, so you're about to meet Harry. He's a kid, alright? He's 18 and he's sweet as hell and very earnest and lovely and I need you to not smash him into tiny pieces, okay?"
Louis flinches. "Excuse me?"
"Fuck," Zayn whispers. "You'll see, okay? Just... lay off, yeah?"
And then this boy enters the room - Harry, presumably - and he's shaking snow out of his hair and his cheeks are flushed from the cold and his long body knocks into the counter as he turns to grab his apron and Louis bites his lip because, yeah. Fuck.
"Zayn!" Harry says brightly. "I just took a quick fifteen, hope that's okay."
Zayn grins, wry. "Not much I can do now, yeah?"
Harry laughs, batting his eyelashes. Snow's still clinging to them, Louis notes. "Well, don't fire me, please, boss. How could I get the ladies with no job?"
Liam snorts. "Ah, yes, it's hard enough for you as it is."
Harry's eyes widen innocently. "Whatever are you insinuating, Mr. Payne?"
Zayn rolls his eyes. "Sure, yeah. Alright, Haz, this is my best mate, Louis. He's just come off a six month sex extravaganza on the Continent and shown up like a lost kitten in my shop. Louis, this is Harry."
Louis slides off the stool and holds his tea-warmed hand out to Harry. Harry looks over at him and lights up, smiling with big red lips and warm eyes.
"Hi," Harry says, shaking Louis's hand and dragging his curly fringe across his forehead, out of his eyes. "Harry Styles."
Louis blinks, laughs. "Harry Styles? Nope. Not falling for that one. Do you get a lot of facebook stalkers or something?"
Harry throws his head back, mouth opening wide into a deep laugh. "No, mate, no. I swear to you. Harry Styles."
Louis arches an eyebrow, smiling at him. "Zayner, I'm gonna need to see your employee records. I think this boy is lying to me, and I won't stand for it."
Harry's still giggling, grinning widely at Louis. "And you're Louis...?"
"Tomlinson," Louis supplies. "And that is a real last name, my friend."
"How can I get you to believe me?" Harry asks, tying his apron around his slim hips with long, pale fingers.
Louis shrugs, trying to pretend like he's not staring obscenely. "It would take quite a lot for me to believe some northern boy has got a name like that."
"Oi!" Harry says. "Low blow, there. Watch it."
Louis grins. "I'm from Yorkshire, mate."
"Ah, I see." Harry studies him, smiling. "Hey, have you got your mobile on you?"
"Ooh, quite forward of you, Styles," Louis says, digging in his pocket. "I like it."
Harry laughs and takes it from him, fingers tapping expertly. "There," he says. "You've requested me on facebook."
Louis smirks. "But now I look like the forward one, don't I? Not sure if I fancy that, to be honest."
Harry leans over the counter to whisper conspiratorially, "I won't tell a soul."
Louis winks and tips his mug in a salute. "I'd just die from the shame."
"So, tell me about this six month sex trip, then," Harry says, settling in and leaning on his elbows.
Zayn clears his throat. "Haven't you got work to do, Haz?"
Harry looks back at him and then glances around the empty shop. "I... er? I feel like the answer's meant to be yes, but..."
Louis snorts. "Zayn's just trying to stop me from seducing you with my wiles. Is that the word you used, Zayner? Wiles?"
"It absolutely is not," Zayn spits, as Liam and Harry laugh.
Smirking, Louis slides a pound across the counter and hops off his stool. "I should get going, I want to phone my mum and all, but drinks later? All of us?"
"Excellent." Harry beams.
Liam nods and gives him a bright smile. Zayn scowls but it quickly softens into fondness, and he rounds the coffee bar and pulls Louis in for another hug. "Glad you're home, mate. Missed you."
"I know," Louis says quietly. "I missed you too. And I'll be good, I promise. He's lovely, though. Liam, too. I'm so glad things are going well for you."
Zayn sighs a bit, ruffling Louis's hair. "Harry's great, Lou, and I won't, like, stop you, you know? Just. I know you."
Louis bites his lip and tries not to look hurt. "Sure," he says lightly. "Right."
"Lou, wait-"
"It's fine," Louis says, smiling. "I know what you meant." He straightens up and walks over to grab his coat from the hook. "Linda's at nine, then, lads?" He waits for three nods before waving and stepping out into the frigid London winter.
*
Louis doesn't manage to leave his flat until 8:45, because he's pretty sure the bloody heater is broken. He's pretty sure he's not meant to see his breath when it's been turned on high for three hours. He's pretty sure he might have hypothermia. But he makes it out, and he even braves his near-freezing bedroom to change into what he considers evening clothes. He wishes someone was there to laugh at him, honestly - tired of hearing his own footsteps echoing through the empty rooms.
But there's not, and that's his own damn fault, because he drove Greg off seven months ago, and that's that.
So he changes into some black jeans and a black sweater and pulls on some boots. Studying himself in the mirror, he tries to weigh the pros and cons of fringe versus quiff, turning his head to the bed, opening his mouth to ask for an opinion, only to shut it again. Rubbing a hand over his face, he grabs his product and quiffs his fringe lazily, then he slips into his coat and dashes out the door.
He's only ten minutes late. As he walks in the door, Zayn and Liam are curled up at the center of the rounded booth, framed by Niall and Harry. They wave him over, yelling greetings. Louis grins and flings his coat up on the hook by the door, sauntering towards the table.
"Glad to see you didn't feel the need to wait for me," he says, arching his eyebrow at the round of pints spread out.
Niall laughs. "Got you one, mate," he says, holding out the darkest beer Louis has ever seen. He pulls a face and slides into the booth next to Niall.
"It's like you don't know me at all," he mutters, grinning. Niall laughs again, tugging Louis into his body for a one-armed hug.
"So glad you're back! Need someone else single around. Been getting boring and frankly disgusting." Niall nods his head to where Zayn is whispering in Liam's ear, but really just brushing his lips against his face. Louis sighs, takes a long pull of the pint in front of him.
"Oh, fuck off," he exclaims, making a face at the glass. "This is rank. I need a Corona."
Harry laughs from across the table where he's nursing something fruity-looking. Vodka-cran, maybe, Louis thinks.
"Hi, mate," he says to Harry, smiling over.
Harry grins back. "How was the rest of your day?"
"Well, I live in an ice box that I am paying an obscene amount for, so that is a tad disappointing. Oh, and I'm in bloody England, instead of at a club in Spain getting fawned over, so, you know. It is what it is." Louis winks.
Harry chuckles and takes a sip of his cocktail through the straws - honestly, is this boy real? - and says, "I feel your pain, mate. Well, no, I don't. But I sympathise."
"Thank you," Louis says. "That means a lot. I'm going to go get a different, better drink. While I'm away, please break that," he gestures to Liam and Zayn, who have abandoned all pretense and are now just making out, "up and remind them we are in public and I am bitter."
Niall snorts. "You've been gone too long, mate. There's no stopping them. I've tried."
"Brilliant," Louis mutters.
When he gets back, Niall's moved on to finishing Louis's beer and a woman is curled into Harry, playing with his fingers, and glancing up at him coyly as he speaks to her in low tones, eyes dark.
Louis's fingers tighten around his glass and he blinks down at the ground for a moment before sliding back in beside Niall.
Harry and the woman look up. "Louis, this is my friend Caroline! Caroline, this is Zayn and Niall's friend Louis! He's just back from Spain, the lucky bastard."
Louis smiles politely, nodding at her.
"Spain!" she exclaims. "Why did you ever come back?"
"Ah, love, I've been asking myself that all day," he says. "Alas, the funds ran out."
Harry laughs a bit, then turns back to Caroline, asking, "Are Nick and Pix and the rest coming?"
She nods and pulls out her phone, glancing at it. "Yeah, actually, they should be here any minute."
Louis glances at Niall, who's sprawled easily into the leather of the booth, sipping at his beer idly. Liam and Zayn have disappeared.
"Where's Zayn?" Louis asks. "Liam doesn't seem like a bar-loo shagger, really."
Niall smirks. "This is what they do now. They show up for a semi-polite period of time and then go back to Zayn's."
Louis blinks. "They left? But I've just got here! Zayn didn't even bloody say hello!"
Niall shrugs. "He said to tell you goodbye and that he'll call you tomorrow."
Harry watches their exchange. "Some of our friends will be here in a minute, if you're lonely!" he says, grinning at Louis.
Louis glances away and takes a long sip of his gin and tonic. Niall nudges him under the table. "Alright?" he mutters.
Louis shrugs. "I should maybe go. I don't know."
Niall sits up. "Come out for a fag, yeah?"
They slide out of the booth and Louis absently listens to Niall assuring Harry they'll be right back before palming the small of Louis's back and guiding him out into the alley.
Louis looks to him expectantly. "You smoke now?"
Niall shrugs and pulls a pack out of his pocket. "Socially. Want one?"
Louis takes one and waits for Niall to hand him a lighter before saying, "So, exactly how much has changed since I've been gone?"
Sighing, Niall tilts his head back to gaze up into the falling snow, eyes clenching shut as flakes his his face. "A lot. It's... I dunno, mate. It's been weird without you."
"Well, you smoke now."
Niall laughs a little dryly. "Easy to find people to talk to when you're smoking."
"Since when have you had trouble talking to people?" Louis asks.
"It's like... you've not been here, we don't hang out with Greg anymore - sorry - and I don't see Zayn unless he's attached at the mouth to Liam, and even then he never sticks around long. Aiden's got Matt and all of Matt's music friends. Cher stopped wasting her time with me. I dunno. Everyone's just... spread out." Niall takes a long drag of his smoke. "You kind of held us together, mate."
Louis leans back against the dirty brick of the building. "This Harry bloke seems nice, though."
Niall cuts him a sharp look. "Yeah, no, he is. He's a laugh."
"But...?" Louis says, raising his eyebrows.
Niall shrugs. "A bit hard to read. Has all of these older friends, you know? Comes out with us and ends up disappearing for half the night. I don't know. Bit of a mystery."
"Oh," Louis says, flicking the cigarette between his fingers, sending a shower of gold onto the wet ground. "Zayn warned me off him."
"Really?" Niall laughs a little at that. "Would have figured he'd want you to go for it. Rebound, and all."
"Seemed to imply he's all sweet and innocent and that I'm too awful and slutty for him, actually," Louis says.
Niall pauses. "Huh."
"What?"
"I mean, don't get me wrong, Harry's sweet, but innocent? Nah. From what I can tell, anyway, he could give you a run for your money. Pre-Greg, that is."
Louis's mouth tightens. "Can we not, actually?"
"Yeah, sorry, mate. Have you heard from him, though?"
"No," Louis says shortly. "I think I'm gonna head home."
Niall studies him for a moment. "Want company?"
"Thanks."
Niall nods and stubs out his cigarette, stepping back inside to grab their coats and say goodbye to Harry for the both of them.
Louis stays outside, shivering in his thin sweater, and stares at the hazy dark grey of the sky, still spitting down snow. It's December fifth. Last year at this time, he and Greg were holed up in his flat, probably decorating a damn Christmas tree while Louis laughed protestations about how stupid it was, and Greg convinced him it was fun. Mostly, they were probably making out. Or cuddling. Or watching Harry Potter marathons.
Last year, winter was lovely. Winter was hot chocolate and snowball fights and friends and love and all of that bullshit.
Now, Louis is alone and he's not sure what's happened.
*
There's the scent of bacon floating through the flat when Louis wakes up. It's freezing - of course it is - so Louis digs around until he finds a pair of sweatpants and a huge knit jumper. As he walks out of his bedroom door, he glances in the mirror and hazily recognises the jumper as Greg's, one that Louis used to nap in on the couch, one that Louis begged Greg to let him keep. One that hasn't been touched in seven months.
Louis scrubs a hand through his hair and pads to the kitchen where Niall has the radio cranked up and bacon crackling on the stove.
"I love you, Nialler," Louis mumbles, hooking his chin over Niall's shoulder and wrapping his hands around his waist.
Niall laughs. "You're mad if you think any of this is for you, mate."
Louis grins and gets down two plates and two mugs, flicking the kettle on and hoisting himself on the counter. He kicks out at Niall's hip and Niall catches his foot.
"It's good you're back, Lou. We were all a bit worried, you know?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "I'm fine. Nothing a bit of sun and dozens of gorgeous Spanish boys can't cure."
Niall smiles softly. "Okay. Well. You know."
"Right," Louis says, glancing away. "What the fuck is on the radio, honestly?"
"Oh," Niall says, laughing. "'S the Radio1 Breakfast Show, remember that?"
Louis pulls a face. "Fuck Moyles."
"No, yeah, but it's not Moyles anymore. Some bloke Nick Grimshaw. Good mates with Harry from last night."
Raising an eyebrow, Louis says, "Harry the coffeeshop boy is mates with a Radio1 DJ? High roller, that."
"Yeah." Niall turns to look at him, faced scrunched up in thought. "They might be sleeping together, actually. Can't ever tell with him. That group, actually. Harry's older friends? Think they all just might orgy instead of, like, have individual sex lives."
Louis blinks. "Oh. Well. Can't judge, I guess."
Niall snorts. "Bit like what you got up to in Spain, I imagine." He pours out the bacon onto the plates in a puddle of grease, dropping some bread on top to soak it up, apparently. Louis is faintly disgusted, but a lot more hungry.
He scoots over on the counter so Niall can hop up next to him and they set their plates down between them, staring out the window over the sink and nudging their ankles together in tandem.
"Hey, Ni?" Louis asks, glancing down at the strip of bacon between his fingers.
Niall's chewing loudly. "Mmm?"
"D'you think I fucked up?"
"What? Coming back?" Niall's talking around a mouthful of bread and bacon. Louis pulls a face. "Nah, I'm glad you did. Zayn would be too, if he could get his damn head out of his ass. And it'll probably be good for you, y'know. Can't run away forever."
"Yeah." Louis looks down at their feet, hooks his around Niall's and holds them still. "But, no, like. I meant with Greg. Do you think I fucked up there?"
Niall stares hard at Louis's face in profile. "This... is usually Zayn's job," he says.
"Right." Louis laughs bitterly. "And where the fuck is Zayn?"
"He'll come round. Liam's great, though. You'll love him. And I'm glad for Zayn. About time he got over-"
"Yeah," Louis cuts him off, not wanting to hear it. "Yeah. No, I'm happy for him. I'm just selfish, I don't know. Missed him."
"Yeah," Niall says, chewing some more. "And, like. The Greg thing? I don't know the whole story, like, but from what I do know, it sounds like you made the best decision? If you'd gotten married just because he wanted to, Lou..."
"I know."
They're quiet for awhile.
"Zayn's better at this," Niall says finally.
Louis smiles over at him and punches his arm lightly. "You're not so bad. Looks like we're gonna be hanging out a lot anyway. Too bad you're straight, yeah?"
Niall chokes. "Don't even try it on, Tomlinson."
Laughing, Louis slides off the counter and gathers their plates, dumping them in the sink. "Wouldn't dare."
*
Niall leaves around 10am and Louis wanders around his flat, reacquainting himself with it. It turns out that exploring a tiny city flat only takes about a half an hour, no matter how slow he moves, so he showers and dresses and sits in front of the television.
Everything is so quiet: his flat is empty, the streets are covered in the life-stalling blankets of snow, and there's not even a goddamn siren in the distance.
Louis sighs. He hates being alone for too long now, because it just makes him think about what could have been. He pulls on his coat and his boots and sets out on the silent street. Dragging his feet, the snow builds up on top of them and he kicks it up, trying to juggle it like a football, scowling when it all splatters across his thighs.
Ten minutes later, cold and wet, he makes it to the coffee shop.
"Zayn!" he yells as he shakes off his coat. "Zayner, I need whisky in my coffee and I need it, like, twenty minutes ago."
Someone laughs from the coffee bar and it is decidedly not Zayn's laugh. "He's not here today. Actually, no one's here today. Well, I am, obviously. But that's it."
Louis turns around after beating all the snow off his body to meet Harry's eyes. "Oh," he says. "Well. You'll do. Have you got whisky?"
Harry winks. "Only if you hang out with me for awhile. It's dead empty and no one's been in all day. I've been baking pastries, otherwise I'd close early."
"Pity, that," Louis says. "But can I have one? I've just trekked through the wild Russian tundra for you, love, it's really the least you could do."
"Ah, but I'm pretty sure you trekked for Zayn. I'm just what you're stuck with." Harry taps his nose pointedly.
Louis smiles a little and curls into one of the overstuffed armchairs by the window. "Bring the coffee, whiskey, cream, and two glasses, babe. Let's have ourselves a snowday." He waves Harry over, indicating the other chair beside him.
Harry bites his lip, hiding his grin. "Yeah, alright."
As Harry walks over with his hands full, Louis gives him a lazy smile, tilting his head back. "You're quite pretty," he says. "Zayn warned me off you, you know."
Harry snorts. "You did mention something like that. Don't quite get it."
"Ah, well. You see, I had a bit of a reputation, I suppose. But I settled down."
Harry raises his eyebrows. "Before or after your sex trip?"
Louis huffs a little laugh, lips quirked. "Right. Well, that was deserved. Anyway, enough about me. Tell me everything."
"Everything, hm?" Harry grins rather wickedly.
Louis wrinkles his nose and takes a sip of the coffee Harry hands to him. "Well, leave some things to my imagination, you know. A boy likes to be surprised."
Harry laughs, delighted. "Right, well, I'm from Cheshire. Moved down here when my mum married a rich bloke, so I could go to uni and all. In a band, sort of. I dunno. I'm rather boring, honestly."
"Oh, I doubt that. I hear you're sleeping with an R1 DJ." Louis tilts his head, amused, giving Harry an out if he wants it.
Harry just barks a loud laugh and promptly covers his mouth. "Where on earth did you hear that one?"
Louis shrugs. "I have my sources," he says, waggling his eyebrows mysteriously.
"Right." Harry peers over, curious. "Well, anyway, yeah, Nick's a good mate. He's fun. You should meet him. I'd bet you'd get on, you have similar senses of humour."
Louis kicks off his boots and pulls his feet under him. "Better him than Moyles, I suppose."
"Yeah," Harry laughs. "I'm not friends with Moyles."
"We should all put that on our CVs, I think," Louis muses. "21 years old, uni degree in progress, not friends with Chis Moyles. Surefire hire, I'd say."
Harry hums, nods. "What's your degree in?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "English," he says. "Of course."
"'Of course,'" Harry echoes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what would you expect from some flaky mess of a boy who takes off for Spain randomly, yeah?" Louis stares out at the falling snow. "It's a mess of a degree for a mess of a person."
"You don't seem like a mess to me," Harry says, quiet.
Louis smiles tiredly. "You don't know me, Harry."
Harry just wrinkles up his nose in a kind of adorable way and pours another shot of whisky into Louis's coffee. "Let's not get all morose now, love. It's snowing!"
"Yeah," Louis grumbles. "It's bloody freezing and wet and miserable."
Harry looks at him for a long moment, considering. "Come on," he says, getting to his feet. His back cracks loudly.
Louis looks up at him. "Er, thanks, mate, but I'm actually comfortable and warm, and I really doubt whatever you have planned is better than that, so."
Harry rolls his eyes. "Come on." He holds out his hand to Louis.
Sighing, all long-suffering misery, Louis grabs it and lets Harry pull him up. Hands joined, Harry kicks Louis's boots toward him, then drags him over to the coat rack, pulling on his own boots and jacket. "Get warm," Harry says.
Louis watches him warily. "I want it on the record that I am doing this under extreme duress."
"Noted. Put your damn coat on, Tomlinson. We're going to have a proper snowball fight." Harry winks and wraps a scarf around Louis's neck. "Now, get warm."
"Fine," Louis huffs, biting his cheek, knowing he's not hiding a smile, like, at all. He pulls on his jacket and gloves and yanks the door open, racing outside.
"Okay, so. The rules are-" Harry starts, and then finds it quite difficult to talk around a faceful of snow. "You little shit," he yells.
Louis dashes away, diving behind a car, cackling madly. "No rules in street ball, motherfucker!" he screams in his most obnoxious American accent.
Harry just laughs and starts pelting snowballs in Louis's direction while Louis bobs up and down, teasing and hurling more back. After fifteen minutes of the most competitive snowball fight Louis has ever been involved in, he crawls out from behind a lorry - his home base - and flops in the middle of the street on his back.
"I surrender, Styles. Your stamina is too much for me," he calls.
There's silence for a moment, and then a rustling noise as Harry drops from a tree on the other side of the road.
"Free shot?" Harry says.
Louis sighs. "Fine. One." He sits up, resting back on the palms of his hands behind him, legs splayed out.
Harry grins wickedly and takes his time, winding up like a pitcher and spitting at the ground. Louis rolls his eyes, and lets out an oof along with most of his oxygen as a packed ball of snow hits him right in the ribcage.
"Cunt," he groans, collapsing back. "I've been hit! Medic!"
Harry laughs and runs over, dropping heavily on top of him. "I declare myself victorious! Happy V-E day, bitches!"
"Ugh," Louis says. "You're such a geek."
Harry bats his eyelashes. "I'm wonderful and charming and you're besotted."
Louis pushes at Harry's face, trying to ignore how close they are. "I certainly am not! My keeper has told me off you, remember?"
"Ah," Harry says, raising an eyebrow. "But can you resist?"
Louis lets himself smile softly. "Not a good idea, love."
Harry repositions himself on top of Louis, one leg between his and one on the outside and leaning heavily on his elbows pressed against Louis's chest. "What do you mean?" he asks, thoughtful.
Louis stares at the sky. "I'm a bit fucked up at the mo."
"Well," Harry says. "Who's not, honestly?"
Louis laughs a little. "Fair enough, yeah."
Harry hums quietly to himself, but it's recognisable. Louis quirks an eyebrow, humming along. Harry grins broadly and finally rolls off Louis to lay next to him, staring at the sky, belting out the chorus: "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?"
Louis shakes his head, chuckling. "You're insane."
"Mmm, I'm going to get you to kiss me someday."
Sighing, Louis sits up and rubs his face with cold, wet hands, squeaking as they touch his skin. "Fuck. Let's go inside."
"And get drunk?" Harry asks hopefully.
"You're the worst, honestly. I'm going to tell Zayn."
Harry stands up and holds out his hand. "You're such a tattletale."
Louis grabs it and pulls himself up, smiling up at him. "I just don't trust myself around you," he says, and turns, straightening his coat and walking back into the coffee shop. He glances into the rippled reflection of the window, grinning privately into his scarf when he sees Harry beaming to himself.
part two.
pairing(s): harry styles/louis tomlinson, side liam payne/zayn malik
word count: ~12,000
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
summary: AU. louis ran away to spain after a breakup and now he's back to a snowy london winter and this kid allegedly called harry styles.
notes: everyone's switching to ao3 and i know i should too but i have a weird loyalty to lj and ugh idk i suck i'm sorry. okay so anyway! this was meant to be some sort of cute cuddly winter fic, and i guess in a sense it is, but then my need for actual plot took over and this happened. this is for tracedust, who demanded i write this ("lovingly"), and influira and wandersfound because "after all this time?" "always", and mady and sadie and daniella for pumpin me up, and teapirate because it's her birthday!! massive and huge thanks and love to checkthemargins for encouragement and playing therapist and not letting me take the easy way out.
Louis curls tight into his coat as he hurriedly walks down the snowy sidewalk, trying as hard as he can not to slip. He slipped earlier, when he was leaving his flat, and it was quite humiliating. Like, at least ten people saw. Three laughed. Two did that horrified alright, mate? courtesy yell. All Louis could really do is stand up, laugh a little at himself, and brush the snow off his arse.
But, really. No repeats necessary, thanks.
He's coming up on the cafe now, just one more block. He can make it. He's been promised a free coffee, and he hopes to fuck Zayn's got some whisky hidden away to make it Irish. Or maybe Niall will be in. Niall's always got whisky secreted about his person. Louis balls his icy fingers in his coat pockets and noses deeper into his scarf. The snow's coming down quite quickly now, making his view white and hazy. The streets are quiet and blanketed and the trees are reflecting the light off the streetlamps.
It's all very romantic. Louis is incredibly cold.
Finally, finally, he reaches the door.
"Bloody fucking shit motherfucker bastard wank shit fuck!" he exclaims as he slams inside. "It's fucking freezing out there."
Zayn glances up - well, fair play, everyone glances up - at him as the door slams behind him.
"And if it isn't the ever-polite, soft-spoken Louis fucking Tomlinson," Zayn says, wiping his hands on his apron. His smile is stretched all the way across his face, eyes crinkling so his lashes brush together. He comes over to Louis, struggling to hang his coat on the rack, and throws his arms around him. "Shit, mate."
Louis grins back, tucking himself close into Zayn's warm body. "Hi," he whispers.
"Hi," Zayn says back, smiling down at him, softer now, private. "Missed you."
"Missed you back," Louis says, rubbing his icicle nose under Zayn's jaw. He pulls away slightly, surveying the inside of the shop, with its soft lighting and Zayn's paintings along the walls and the mismatched armchairs and dark wood coffee tables. "Looks lovely in here, Zayner, really."
Zayn stands back, watching him, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. He shrugs, glances away, bashful. "Thanks. Hey, let me introduce you around."
Louis nods excitedly and loops his arm through Zayn's elbow, walking them up towards the counter. There's a tall pretty boy with big pretty brown eyes and a big pretty mouth and big pretty shoulders standing behind in, watching them curiously. He offers Louis a small pretty smile.
"Hi!" Louis exclaims. "I'm Louis Tomlinson. I'm your boss's best mate, so I'll require free muffins and love."
The boy blinks a bit, but his smile stays put. He holds out a big pretty hand to Louis. "Hi. I'm Liam."
Zayn sighs. "Lou, if I could afford free muffins for myself even..."
Louis pretends to pout for a moment, before smiling back at Liam. "Fine. But I'll still require that free love."
Still standing, smiling, and looking confused, Liam delicately extracts his hand from Louis's grip, glancing to Zayn deferentially.
"Yeah, mate, you are quite needy that way," Zayn says, tugging him in closer to whisper in his ear, "But not Liam, yeah? We're kind of..."
Louis pulls back, eyes widening a bit in understanding. "Zayn Malik. Zayn Malik. I leave for six months and you've gone and fallen in love with someone else? How could you?" he all but shrieks, voice rising hysterically.
Liam's mouth falls open and he steps back from the counter, looking horrified. "I don't-"
"Ignore him, Liam," Zayn says sharply, teeth clenched. "He thinks he's funny."
Grinning beatifically, Louis turns back to Liam. "I kid, I kid. You're a lucky boy. How long did it take him to ask you out? Were there months of stuttering and dropping plates and avoiding eye contact and walking away in the middle of sentences? Because, I tell you what, mate, Zayn here isn't the most-" a hand wraps around his mouth, effectively cutting him off.
"You've been back not five minutes and you're already making me want to strangle you, Lou. Were you going for some kind of record?" Zayn pinches his side and it's decidedly not a love-pinch.
"Oi!" Louis cries, squirming away. "Be nice to me! I've only been back five minutes and you're already hurting me!"
"I'm sorry about him," Zayn says to Liam, rolling his eyes. Liam laughs nervously.
"You're not...?" he trails off, glancing back at Louis.
Louis takes pity on him. "No, mate, no, no. Strictly best friends, like. But I'll warn you, I am the worst third wheel. So, um. I hope you don't think I'm too annoying already."
Zayn laughs a little, smiling at Louis. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head ruefully. "But he'll grow on you. Like a little parasite."
Louis sticks out his tongue. Liam laughs.
"So, anyway," Zayn says, sliding back around the counter. "Where's Harry?"
"Oh," Liam says, "I think he took a break?"
"Another?" Zayn rolls his eyes. "Don't I pay him to, like, work?"
Liam shrugs. "It's the face, no one can resist."
Louis glances up from where he was studying the list of tea. "Wait, what? Who? Irresistible faces? I'm intrigued."
"Oh, no," Zayn says to Liam, ignoring Louis. "I forgot. This is going to be insufferable."
"What?!" Louis demands.
"What?" Liam asks.
Zayn's still speaking exclusively to Liam. "Louis. When Louis meets Harry. This is... well, you'll see."
"What?" Louis says, leaning over the counter to peer into Zayn's eyes. "Am I going to like him? Am I going to love him? Is he perfect?"
"Shit," Zayn mutters.
Liam just laughs. "Can I get you anything, Louis?"
"Yeah, yeah, a cuppa Yorkshire, please, mate, thanks," he says, distracted.
Liam nods and and digs around for a teabag. "Where have you been? Zayn says you've been gallivanting, but I'm not quite solid on what that means."
Louis laughs. "I took the semester off and went to Spain! Andalucia and Valencia, mainly. I ventured up north a bit. And Madrid, of course."
"Wow," Liam says, eyes widening. "That sounds amazing."
Louis nods. "It really was. But now I'm back and broke and cold and lonely! Speaking of free love, mate, seriously - check out Spain."
Liam chuckles. "I'm not really a free love kind of guy, I guess you could say."
"Nah." Louis smiles down at the counter. "Really gotta work for it with Zayner, don't you?"
"Hey now," Zayn says. "What's that mean, then?"
Liam slides a steaming mug over to Louis and Louis wraps his hands around it, finally sinking down into one of the barstools. "It took me months until you even deigned to acknowledge my presence, love. And I sat with you every day in maths."
Zayn smirks. "You were annoying as fuck."
"I wanted to be your friend!"
"You wanted to copy my homework."
Louis pauses, concedes. "Well, okay, but I also wanted to be your friend!"
"Ugh," Zayn says to Liam. "His way of trying to be my friend was turning my backpack inside out, tugging on my earlobes when he had a question, and doodling rude cartoons on my notes."
"I am charming," Louis sighs, smiling wistfully.
"Parasite," Zayn says, raising his eyebrows to Liam. Liam chuckles.
A slam echos through the room, coming from the back of the shop. Louis glances up and Zayn takes a deep breath, speaking quickly in low tones to Louis. "Okay, Lou, so you're about to meet Harry. He's a kid, alright? He's 18 and he's sweet as hell and very earnest and lovely and I need you to not smash him into tiny pieces, okay?"
Louis flinches. "Excuse me?"
"Fuck," Zayn whispers. "You'll see, okay? Just... lay off, yeah?"
And then this boy enters the room - Harry, presumably - and he's shaking snow out of his hair and his cheeks are flushed from the cold and his long body knocks into the counter as he turns to grab his apron and Louis bites his lip because, yeah. Fuck.
"Zayn!" Harry says brightly. "I just took a quick fifteen, hope that's okay."
Zayn grins, wry. "Not much I can do now, yeah?"
Harry laughs, batting his eyelashes. Snow's still clinging to them, Louis notes. "Well, don't fire me, please, boss. How could I get the ladies with no job?"
Liam snorts. "Ah, yes, it's hard enough for you as it is."
Harry's eyes widen innocently. "Whatever are you insinuating, Mr. Payne?"
Zayn rolls his eyes. "Sure, yeah. Alright, Haz, this is my best mate, Louis. He's just come off a six month sex extravaganza on the Continent and shown up like a lost kitten in my shop. Louis, this is Harry."
Louis slides off the stool and holds his tea-warmed hand out to Harry. Harry looks over at him and lights up, smiling with big red lips and warm eyes.
"Hi," Harry says, shaking Louis's hand and dragging his curly fringe across his forehead, out of his eyes. "Harry Styles."
Louis blinks, laughs. "Harry Styles? Nope. Not falling for that one. Do you get a lot of facebook stalkers or something?"
Harry throws his head back, mouth opening wide into a deep laugh. "No, mate, no. I swear to you. Harry Styles."
Louis arches an eyebrow, smiling at him. "Zayner, I'm gonna need to see your employee records. I think this boy is lying to me, and I won't stand for it."
Harry's still giggling, grinning widely at Louis. "And you're Louis...?"
"Tomlinson," Louis supplies. "And that is a real last name, my friend."
"How can I get you to believe me?" Harry asks, tying his apron around his slim hips with long, pale fingers.
Louis shrugs, trying to pretend like he's not staring obscenely. "It would take quite a lot for me to believe some northern boy has got a name like that."
"Oi!" Harry says. "Low blow, there. Watch it."
Louis grins. "I'm from Yorkshire, mate."
"Ah, I see." Harry studies him, smiling. "Hey, have you got your mobile on you?"
"Ooh, quite forward of you, Styles," Louis says, digging in his pocket. "I like it."
Harry laughs and takes it from him, fingers tapping expertly. "There," he says. "You've requested me on facebook."
Louis smirks. "But now I look like the forward one, don't I? Not sure if I fancy that, to be honest."
Harry leans over the counter to whisper conspiratorially, "I won't tell a soul."
Louis winks and tips his mug in a salute. "I'd just die from the shame."
"So, tell me about this six month sex trip, then," Harry says, settling in and leaning on his elbows.
Zayn clears his throat. "Haven't you got work to do, Haz?"
Harry looks back at him and then glances around the empty shop. "I... er? I feel like the answer's meant to be yes, but..."
Louis snorts. "Zayn's just trying to stop me from seducing you with my wiles. Is that the word you used, Zayner? Wiles?"
"It absolutely is not," Zayn spits, as Liam and Harry laugh.
Smirking, Louis slides a pound across the counter and hops off his stool. "I should get going, I want to phone my mum and all, but drinks later? All of us?"
"Excellent." Harry beams.
Liam nods and gives him a bright smile. Zayn scowls but it quickly softens into fondness, and he rounds the coffee bar and pulls Louis in for another hug. "Glad you're home, mate. Missed you."
"I know," Louis says quietly. "I missed you too. And I'll be good, I promise. He's lovely, though. Liam, too. I'm so glad things are going well for you."
Zayn sighs a bit, ruffling Louis's hair. "Harry's great, Lou, and I won't, like, stop you, you know? Just. I know you."
Louis bites his lip and tries not to look hurt. "Sure," he says lightly. "Right."
"Lou, wait-"
"It's fine," Louis says, smiling. "I know what you meant." He straightens up and walks over to grab his coat from the hook. "Linda's at nine, then, lads?" He waits for three nods before waving and stepping out into the frigid London winter.
*
Louis doesn't manage to leave his flat until 8:45, because he's pretty sure the bloody heater is broken. He's pretty sure he's not meant to see his breath when it's been turned on high for three hours. He's pretty sure he might have hypothermia. But he makes it out, and he even braves his near-freezing bedroom to change into what he considers evening clothes. He wishes someone was there to laugh at him, honestly - tired of hearing his own footsteps echoing through the empty rooms.
But there's not, and that's his own damn fault, because he drove Greg off seven months ago, and that's that.
So he changes into some black jeans and a black sweater and pulls on some boots. Studying himself in the mirror, he tries to weigh the pros and cons of fringe versus quiff, turning his head to the bed, opening his mouth to ask for an opinion, only to shut it again. Rubbing a hand over his face, he grabs his product and quiffs his fringe lazily, then he slips into his coat and dashes out the door.
He's only ten minutes late. As he walks in the door, Zayn and Liam are curled up at the center of the rounded booth, framed by Niall and Harry. They wave him over, yelling greetings. Louis grins and flings his coat up on the hook by the door, sauntering towards the table.
"Glad to see you didn't feel the need to wait for me," he says, arching his eyebrow at the round of pints spread out.
Niall laughs. "Got you one, mate," he says, holding out the darkest beer Louis has ever seen. He pulls a face and slides into the booth next to Niall.
"It's like you don't know me at all," he mutters, grinning. Niall laughs again, tugging Louis into his body for a one-armed hug.
"So glad you're back! Need someone else single around. Been getting boring and frankly disgusting." Niall nods his head to where Zayn is whispering in Liam's ear, but really just brushing his lips against his face. Louis sighs, takes a long pull of the pint in front of him.
"Oh, fuck off," he exclaims, making a face at the glass. "This is rank. I need a Corona."
Harry laughs from across the table where he's nursing something fruity-looking. Vodka-cran, maybe, Louis thinks.
"Hi, mate," he says to Harry, smiling over.
Harry grins back. "How was the rest of your day?"
"Well, I live in an ice box that I am paying an obscene amount for, so that is a tad disappointing. Oh, and I'm in bloody England, instead of at a club in Spain getting fawned over, so, you know. It is what it is." Louis winks.
Harry chuckles and takes a sip of his cocktail through the straws - honestly, is this boy real? - and says, "I feel your pain, mate. Well, no, I don't. But I sympathise."
"Thank you," Louis says. "That means a lot. I'm going to go get a different, better drink. While I'm away, please break that," he gestures to Liam and Zayn, who have abandoned all pretense and are now just making out, "up and remind them we are in public and I am bitter."
Niall snorts. "You've been gone too long, mate. There's no stopping them. I've tried."
"Brilliant," Louis mutters.
When he gets back, Niall's moved on to finishing Louis's beer and a woman is curled into Harry, playing with his fingers, and glancing up at him coyly as he speaks to her in low tones, eyes dark.
Louis's fingers tighten around his glass and he blinks down at the ground for a moment before sliding back in beside Niall.
Harry and the woman look up. "Louis, this is my friend Caroline! Caroline, this is Zayn and Niall's friend Louis! He's just back from Spain, the lucky bastard."
Louis smiles politely, nodding at her.
"Spain!" she exclaims. "Why did you ever come back?"
"Ah, love, I've been asking myself that all day," he says. "Alas, the funds ran out."
Harry laughs a bit, then turns back to Caroline, asking, "Are Nick and Pix and the rest coming?"
She nods and pulls out her phone, glancing at it. "Yeah, actually, they should be here any minute."
Louis glances at Niall, who's sprawled easily into the leather of the booth, sipping at his beer idly. Liam and Zayn have disappeared.
"Where's Zayn?" Louis asks. "Liam doesn't seem like a bar-loo shagger, really."
Niall smirks. "This is what they do now. They show up for a semi-polite period of time and then go back to Zayn's."
Louis blinks. "They left? But I've just got here! Zayn didn't even bloody say hello!"
Niall shrugs. "He said to tell you goodbye and that he'll call you tomorrow."
Harry watches their exchange. "Some of our friends will be here in a minute, if you're lonely!" he says, grinning at Louis.
Louis glances away and takes a long sip of his gin and tonic. Niall nudges him under the table. "Alright?" he mutters.
Louis shrugs. "I should maybe go. I don't know."
Niall sits up. "Come out for a fag, yeah?"
They slide out of the booth and Louis absently listens to Niall assuring Harry they'll be right back before palming the small of Louis's back and guiding him out into the alley.
Louis looks to him expectantly. "You smoke now?"
Niall shrugs and pulls a pack out of his pocket. "Socially. Want one?"
Louis takes one and waits for Niall to hand him a lighter before saying, "So, exactly how much has changed since I've been gone?"
Sighing, Niall tilts his head back to gaze up into the falling snow, eyes clenching shut as flakes his his face. "A lot. It's... I dunno, mate. It's been weird without you."
"Well, you smoke now."
Niall laughs a little dryly. "Easy to find people to talk to when you're smoking."
"Since when have you had trouble talking to people?" Louis asks.
"It's like... you've not been here, we don't hang out with Greg anymore - sorry - and I don't see Zayn unless he's attached at the mouth to Liam, and even then he never sticks around long. Aiden's got Matt and all of Matt's music friends. Cher stopped wasting her time with me. I dunno. Everyone's just... spread out." Niall takes a long drag of his smoke. "You kind of held us together, mate."
Louis leans back against the dirty brick of the building. "This Harry bloke seems nice, though."
Niall cuts him a sharp look. "Yeah, no, he is. He's a laugh."
"But...?" Louis says, raising his eyebrows.
Niall shrugs. "A bit hard to read. Has all of these older friends, you know? Comes out with us and ends up disappearing for half the night. I don't know. Bit of a mystery."
"Oh," Louis says, flicking the cigarette between his fingers, sending a shower of gold onto the wet ground. "Zayn warned me off him."
"Really?" Niall laughs a little at that. "Would have figured he'd want you to go for it. Rebound, and all."
"Seemed to imply he's all sweet and innocent and that I'm too awful and slutty for him, actually," Louis says.
Niall pauses. "Huh."
"What?"
"I mean, don't get me wrong, Harry's sweet, but innocent? Nah. From what I can tell, anyway, he could give you a run for your money. Pre-Greg, that is."
Louis's mouth tightens. "Can we not, actually?"
"Yeah, sorry, mate. Have you heard from him, though?"
"No," Louis says shortly. "I think I'm gonna head home."
Niall studies him for a moment. "Want company?"
"Thanks."
Niall nods and stubs out his cigarette, stepping back inside to grab their coats and say goodbye to Harry for the both of them.
Louis stays outside, shivering in his thin sweater, and stares at the hazy dark grey of the sky, still spitting down snow. It's December fifth. Last year at this time, he and Greg were holed up in his flat, probably decorating a damn Christmas tree while Louis laughed protestations about how stupid it was, and Greg convinced him it was fun. Mostly, they were probably making out. Or cuddling. Or watching Harry Potter marathons.
Last year, winter was lovely. Winter was hot chocolate and snowball fights and friends and love and all of that bullshit.
Now, Louis is alone and he's not sure what's happened.
*
There's the scent of bacon floating through the flat when Louis wakes up. It's freezing - of course it is - so Louis digs around until he finds a pair of sweatpants and a huge knit jumper. As he walks out of his bedroom door, he glances in the mirror and hazily recognises the jumper as Greg's, one that Louis used to nap in on the couch, one that Louis begged Greg to let him keep. One that hasn't been touched in seven months.
Louis scrubs a hand through his hair and pads to the kitchen where Niall has the radio cranked up and bacon crackling on the stove.
"I love you, Nialler," Louis mumbles, hooking his chin over Niall's shoulder and wrapping his hands around his waist.
Niall laughs. "You're mad if you think any of this is for you, mate."
Louis grins and gets down two plates and two mugs, flicking the kettle on and hoisting himself on the counter. He kicks out at Niall's hip and Niall catches his foot.
"It's good you're back, Lou. We were all a bit worried, you know?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "I'm fine. Nothing a bit of sun and dozens of gorgeous Spanish boys can't cure."
Niall smiles softly. "Okay. Well. You know."
"Right," Louis says, glancing away. "What the fuck is on the radio, honestly?"
"Oh," Niall says, laughing. "'S the Radio1 Breakfast Show, remember that?"
Louis pulls a face. "Fuck Moyles."
"No, yeah, but it's not Moyles anymore. Some bloke Nick Grimshaw. Good mates with Harry from last night."
Raising an eyebrow, Louis says, "Harry the coffeeshop boy is mates with a Radio1 DJ? High roller, that."
"Yeah." Niall turns to look at him, faced scrunched up in thought. "They might be sleeping together, actually. Can't ever tell with him. That group, actually. Harry's older friends? Think they all just might orgy instead of, like, have individual sex lives."
Louis blinks. "Oh. Well. Can't judge, I guess."
Niall snorts. "Bit like what you got up to in Spain, I imagine." He pours out the bacon onto the plates in a puddle of grease, dropping some bread on top to soak it up, apparently. Louis is faintly disgusted, but a lot more hungry.
He scoots over on the counter so Niall can hop up next to him and they set their plates down between them, staring out the window over the sink and nudging their ankles together in tandem.
"Hey, Ni?" Louis asks, glancing down at the strip of bacon between his fingers.
Niall's chewing loudly. "Mmm?"
"D'you think I fucked up?"
"What? Coming back?" Niall's talking around a mouthful of bread and bacon. Louis pulls a face. "Nah, I'm glad you did. Zayn would be too, if he could get his damn head out of his ass. And it'll probably be good for you, y'know. Can't run away forever."
"Yeah." Louis looks down at their feet, hooks his around Niall's and holds them still. "But, no, like. I meant with Greg. Do you think I fucked up there?"
Niall stares hard at Louis's face in profile. "This... is usually Zayn's job," he says.
"Right." Louis laughs bitterly. "And where the fuck is Zayn?"
"He'll come round. Liam's great, though. You'll love him. And I'm glad for Zayn. About time he got over-"
"Yeah," Louis cuts him off, not wanting to hear it. "Yeah. No, I'm happy for him. I'm just selfish, I don't know. Missed him."
"Yeah," Niall says, chewing some more. "And, like. The Greg thing? I don't know the whole story, like, but from what I do know, it sounds like you made the best decision? If you'd gotten married just because he wanted to, Lou..."
"I know."
They're quiet for awhile.
"Zayn's better at this," Niall says finally.
Louis smiles over at him and punches his arm lightly. "You're not so bad. Looks like we're gonna be hanging out a lot anyway. Too bad you're straight, yeah?"
Niall chokes. "Don't even try it on, Tomlinson."
Laughing, Louis slides off the counter and gathers their plates, dumping them in the sink. "Wouldn't dare."
*
Niall leaves around 10am and Louis wanders around his flat, reacquainting himself with it. It turns out that exploring a tiny city flat only takes about a half an hour, no matter how slow he moves, so he showers and dresses and sits in front of the television.
Everything is so quiet: his flat is empty, the streets are covered in the life-stalling blankets of snow, and there's not even a goddamn siren in the distance.
Louis sighs. He hates being alone for too long now, because it just makes him think about what could have been. He pulls on his coat and his boots and sets out on the silent street. Dragging his feet, the snow builds up on top of them and he kicks it up, trying to juggle it like a football, scowling when it all splatters across his thighs.
Ten minutes later, cold and wet, he makes it to the coffee shop.
"Zayn!" he yells as he shakes off his coat. "Zayner, I need whisky in my coffee and I need it, like, twenty minutes ago."
Someone laughs from the coffee bar and it is decidedly not Zayn's laugh. "He's not here today. Actually, no one's here today. Well, I am, obviously. But that's it."
Louis turns around after beating all the snow off his body to meet Harry's eyes. "Oh," he says. "Well. You'll do. Have you got whisky?"
Harry winks. "Only if you hang out with me for awhile. It's dead empty and no one's been in all day. I've been baking pastries, otherwise I'd close early."
"Pity, that," Louis says. "But can I have one? I've just trekked through the wild Russian tundra for you, love, it's really the least you could do."
"Ah, but I'm pretty sure you trekked for Zayn. I'm just what you're stuck with." Harry taps his nose pointedly.
Louis smiles a little and curls into one of the overstuffed armchairs by the window. "Bring the coffee, whiskey, cream, and two glasses, babe. Let's have ourselves a snowday." He waves Harry over, indicating the other chair beside him.
Harry bites his lip, hiding his grin. "Yeah, alright."
As Harry walks over with his hands full, Louis gives him a lazy smile, tilting his head back. "You're quite pretty," he says. "Zayn warned me off you, you know."
Harry snorts. "You did mention something like that. Don't quite get it."
"Ah, well. You see, I had a bit of a reputation, I suppose. But I settled down."
Harry raises his eyebrows. "Before or after your sex trip?"
Louis huffs a little laugh, lips quirked. "Right. Well, that was deserved. Anyway, enough about me. Tell me everything."
"Everything, hm?" Harry grins rather wickedly.
Louis wrinkles his nose and takes a sip of the coffee Harry hands to him. "Well, leave some things to my imagination, you know. A boy likes to be surprised."
Harry laughs, delighted. "Right, well, I'm from Cheshire. Moved down here when my mum married a rich bloke, so I could go to uni and all. In a band, sort of. I dunno. I'm rather boring, honestly."
"Oh, I doubt that. I hear you're sleeping with an R1 DJ." Louis tilts his head, amused, giving Harry an out if he wants it.
Harry just barks a loud laugh and promptly covers his mouth. "Where on earth did you hear that one?"
Louis shrugs. "I have my sources," he says, waggling his eyebrows mysteriously.
"Right." Harry peers over, curious. "Well, anyway, yeah, Nick's a good mate. He's fun. You should meet him. I'd bet you'd get on, you have similar senses of humour."
Louis kicks off his boots and pulls his feet under him. "Better him than Moyles, I suppose."
"Yeah," Harry laughs. "I'm not friends with Moyles."
"We should all put that on our CVs, I think," Louis muses. "21 years old, uni degree in progress, not friends with Chis Moyles. Surefire hire, I'd say."
Harry hums, nods. "What's your degree in?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "English," he says. "Of course."
"'Of course,'" Harry echoes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what would you expect from some flaky mess of a boy who takes off for Spain randomly, yeah?" Louis stares out at the falling snow. "It's a mess of a degree for a mess of a person."
"You don't seem like a mess to me," Harry says, quiet.
Louis smiles tiredly. "You don't know me, Harry."
Harry just wrinkles up his nose in a kind of adorable way and pours another shot of whisky into Louis's coffee. "Let's not get all morose now, love. It's snowing!"
"Yeah," Louis grumbles. "It's bloody freezing and wet and miserable."
Harry looks at him for a long moment, considering. "Come on," he says, getting to his feet. His back cracks loudly.
Louis looks up at him. "Er, thanks, mate, but I'm actually comfortable and warm, and I really doubt whatever you have planned is better than that, so."
Harry rolls his eyes. "Come on." He holds out his hand to Louis.
Sighing, all long-suffering misery, Louis grabs it and lets Harry pull him up. Hands joined, Harry kicks Louis's boots toward him, then drags him over to the coat rack, pulling on his own boots and jacket. "Get warm," Harry says.
Louis watches him warily. "I want it on the record that I am doing this under extreme duress."
"Noted. Put your damn coat on, Tomlinson. We're going to have a proper snowball fight." Harry winks and wraps a scarf around Louis's neck. "Now, get warm."
"Fine," Louis huffs, biting his cheek, knowing he's not hiding a smile, like, at all. He pulls on his jacket and gloves and yanks the door open, racing outside.
"Okay, so. The rules are-" Harry starts, and then finds it quite difficult to talk around a faceful of snow. "You little shit," he yells.
Louis dashes away, diving behind a car, cackling madly. "No rules in street ball, motherfucker!" he screams in his most obnoxious American accent.
Harry just laughs and starts pelting snowballs in Louis's direction while Louis bobs up and down, teasing and hurling more back. After fifteen minutes of the most competitive snowball fight Louis has ever been involved in, he crawls out from behind a lorry - his home base - and flops in the middle of the street on his back.
"I surrender, Styles. Your stamina is too much for me," he calls.
There's silence for a moment, and then a rustling noise as Harry drops from a tree on the other side of the road.
"Free shot?" Harry says.
Louis sighs. "Fine. One." He sits up, resting back on the palms of his hands behind him, legs splayed out.
Harry grins wickedly and takes his time, winding up like a pitcher and spitting at the ground. Louis rolls his eyes, and lets out an oof along with most of his oxygen as a packed ball of snow hits him right in the ribcage.
"Cunt," he groans, collapsing back. "I've been hit! Medic!"
Harry laughs and runs over, dropping heavily on top of him. "I declare myself victorious! Happy V-E day, bitches!"
"Ugh," Louis says. "You're such a geek."
Harry bats his eyelashes. "I'm wonderful and charming and you're besotted."
Louis pushes at Harry's face, trying to ignore how close they are. "I certainly am not! My keeper has told me off you, remember?"
"Ah," Harry says, raising an eyebrow. "But can you resist?"
Louis lets himself smile softly. "Not a good idea, love."
Harry repositions himself on top of Louis, one leg between his and one on the outside and leaning heavily on his elbows pressed against Louis's chest. "What do you mean?" he asks, thoughtful.
Louis stares at the sky. "I'm a bit fucked up at the mo."
"Well," Harry says. "Who's not, honestly?"
Louis laughs a little. "Fair enough, yeah."
Harry hums quietly to himself, but it's recognisable. Louis quirks an eyebrow, humming along. Harry grins broadly and finally rolls off Louis to lay next to him, staring at the sky, belting out the chorus: "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?"
Louis shakes his head, chuckling. "You're insane."
"Mmm, I'm going to get you to kiss me someday."
Sighing, Louis sits up and rubs his face with cold, wet hands, squeaking as they touch his skin. "Fuck. Let's go inside."
"And get drunk?" Harry asks hopefully.
"You're the worst, honestly. I'm going to tell Zayn."
Harry stands up and holds out his hand. "You're such a tattletale."
Louis grabs it and pulls himself up, smiling up at him. "I just don't trust myself around you," he says, and turns, straightening his coat and walking back into the coffee shop. He glances into the rippled reflection of the window, grinning privately into his scarf when he sees Harry beaming to himself.
part two.