every good boy does fine - harry/niall - standalone [2/4]
Title: every good boy does fine
Pairings: Harry/Niall
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff
Rating: R
Summary: Harry has a sex addiction, and Niall just complicates things.
To be honest, Harry’s never really been good when it comes to dates.
Sure, he’s been in a few and none of them ended up horribly or anything, but he’s never really been the dating type. It’s not because he’s antisocial or weird or anything like that, but dates are always awkward, he thinks, because it’s difficult to find a common interest when he’s only met the person for a few minutes, hard to keep coming up with new topics just to get the conversation going and it’s exhausting sometimes, like trying to catch his breath at a marathon but he can’t because he still has a few yards to go and everyone’s already speeding past him, and really, he’d rather not deal with all the stress and just sit home and enjoy a movie while eating leftovers in the fridge.
But with Niall, it’s different.
When he asked Harry out to go to this restaurant near his place over breakfast, Harry was almost sure he was going to say “no, thank you” because that’s what he usually says in this type of situation, his safety net when he doesn’t feel like committing, but his mind had other plans and before he could think about what he’s going to say, he’s already telling Niall that “sure, I’d like that” and in a second, Niall’s lips were stretching from ear to ear, a glint of joy flashing behind his blue eyes, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Niall’s real fascinating, he thinks, not just because he can eat his way out of a pickup truck, and really, as Harry eats his pasta at a modest pace, he starts to wonder how on earth Niall could be so skinny after he orders a second plate of rib-eye steak, but because he seems to be genuinely interested in Harry, and it baffles him. He’s never really met anyone who gave two shits about his favorite movies or what he watched on the television a few days ago or how he gets his hair so curly (though Zayn doesn’t really count because he’s interested in everyone like he’s watching a private soap opera except he doesn’t have to pay for the monthly bill), and it was a very interesting experience when they started to share random trivia about each other like it’s every day conversation over a cup of tea, like how Harry has a star tattoo under his arm that he got from a friend when he turned sixteen and how Niall thinks rabbits are pointless because they don’t really do anything beneficial to society.
Time flies faster than Harry can keep track and when he looks down at his watch after Niall excuses himself to the bathroom, he realizes they’ve been talking for a little over two hours, and he has to raise an eyebrow because he didn’t know he had so much to say in the first place, always so used to giving one-sentence responses when someone would ask him how his day is. Then again, he didn’t really know how the date would go himself, just sort of let fate handle the course like he’s always done with everything else and it’s a nice surprise, he thinks, a nice break from the monotony of lazy weekends, and he decides that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to like Niall.
Niall comes back to the table wearing his smile like it’s permanently etched on his face and Harry watches him take his seat with a grin, watches him pick up his knife and fork without missing a beat and moving his chair closer to the table in one quick motion. Niall cuts into his steak and lifts his eyes up to look at Harry, and Harry gives a start like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to and he sits up straight, picking up the napkin next to his glass and wiping down the rim of his plate, not really knowing what to do with his hands.
“Something on my face?” Niall asks with a chuckle and Harry shakes his head and picks up his fork.
“No, no, you’re good,” Harry replies, face getting warmer, and he takes a small bite of his pasta to distract himself from his heartbeat. Niall grins and stuffs the piece of steak in his mouth.
“Well, you’ve got something on your-” Niall begins as he chews, finger tapping at the corner of his lips, and Harry picks up his napkin and wipes the stain off with a laugh, marveling at how comfortable he feels with someone he’s only met the night before like they’ve known each other their entire lives. He reckons it’s probably just Niall’s sunny disposition putting him at ease, with the smiling and laughing and telling jokes any chance he can get, but there’s a part of him that thinks it might be something else, something that he can’t quite put his finger on but he knows it’s good because he finds himself holding back his laughter when a piece of steak falls out from Niall’s fork and tumbles on the table down to the floor, and he drowns his laughs with the back of his hand when Niall looks at it in horror like he’s just broken a particularly expensive piece of furniture.
“It’s not funny!” Niall says, reaching across the table and smacking Harry lightly on the shoulder. “This is the most depressing thing that’s ever happened in my life.”
Harry washes down the last bits of laughter with water, his heart running a hundred miles an hour, and when Niall sees how red Harry’s face is, it’s his turn to laugh.
“Karma’s going to bite you in the arse, just you wait,” Niall adds with a smile, and Harry just shrugs and finishes the rest of his pasta.
The check comes a few minutes later and Niall insists on paying, but Harry takes the booklet in a flash before Niall could pull out his wallet and sticks his credit card inside, snapping it shut and holding it out of Niall’s reach.
“Come on, let me,” Niall says, standing up and making a grab for the booklet, but Harry shakes his head and hides it under the table.
“No, I’m paying, alright?” Harry says, and after trying one more time to grab the bill, Niall finally drops his shoulders in defeat and sits back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a kid who’s just lost a match, but his smile betrays his face and when the waiter comes over and picks up the booklet, Niall uncoils his arms and rests hands behind his head as he leans back in his seat, watching Harry with a satisfied look.
“If I’d known you were going to pay, I would have ordered another plate,” Niall says, patting his stomach with a grin and Harry laughs, still not getting over how Niall looks exactly as he did two hefty servings of steaks and mashed potatoes ago.
-
“This was really fun,” Niall says when they push through the doors of the restaurant, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking at Harry with a small smile.
“I-er-I had fun, too,” Harry says with a nod, shifting his eyes down to his trainers because he can feel his face heating up again despite the cool weather, and he tightens his jacket around him when he feels a cold wind brush past them.
“Told you it’d be fun, didn’t I?” Niall says matter-of-factly, and Harry looks up just in time to see him stuff his hand in his pocket to dig something out. Harry’s eyes follow his fingers as they emerge from the fabric with a folded piece of paper, and Niall moves forward and holds it out.
Harry’s not really sure what it’s for, but he slips it out of Niall’s fingers and opens it, and he traces out seven digits in blue ink. He shifts his attention back to Niall, who’s scratching the back of his head with a small smile.
“It’s my number,” Niall says, gesturing to the paper with a shrug. “I meant to give it to you before we left this morning but I forgot.”
Harry smiles and looks at the numbers again, following the neat penmanship, and he starts to feel a swelling in his chest, pushing out against his skin and squeezing his heart until he can hear every beat in his ears.
“If you want to hang out or talk or anything,” Niall continues, moving his eyes to the pavement and balancing himself on the balls of his feet, nerves almost tangible, “just give me a ring, yeah?”
Harry’s not quite sure what to feel, really, doesn’t really know how to react to this sort of thing because it’s never come to this point most of the time, never ended up with lunch dates or the exchange of numbers because they’d usually be out of his flat when he wakes up the next morning, and maybe he’s been a bit rusty at these things, quite detached because all he worries about lately is getting off and meeting his deadlines at work and there hadn’t been much room for anything else, really, especially nothing like this. But it’s an odd feeling, though. Not a particularly bad one, mind you, but still quite peculiar.
“Sure,” Harry replies, grinning now and sliding the paper in his pocket, deciding to take the chance with this one. “I’ll do that.”
Niall looks up and returns his grin, flashing brighter than the morning sun, and there’s that feeling in Harry’s chest again, getting bigger and bigger and stretching down to the pit of his stomach, and when Niall makes a step forward and places a kiss on the corner of his lips, his heart stops for a second and a jolt runs through his body, right down to his toes.
“I’ll-er-I’ll just see you later, then,” Niall says, stepping backward and sliding his hands in his pockets with a nod. “Have a nice day, Harry.”
Harry blinks himself out of his stupor and taps the paper through his trousers with a smile, the feeling of Niall’s lips still burning on his skin
“You too, Niall.”
-
Harry closes the door behind him and throws his briefcase on the sofa, cracking his neck with a deep sigh and feeling like there’s something heavy sitting on his shoulders.
The big talk of the day was the emergence of a virus in the company’s main hard drive, spreading through everyone’s computer stations like wildfire and deleting a few important files from Harry’s folders. There were many speculations as to what caused the virus; some say the firewall wasn’t installed correctly or that a few of the antivirus programs couldn’t recognize and stop it in time before it spread across the building, but the damage was done and Harry had spent the entire day walking around trying to figure out what’s going on and running over to the electronic store to buy external hard drives to back up everything important in his files before they were deleted as well, and he had to re-type a few reports and statistics on top of everything and by the end of the day, he could feel his head going numb from seeing countless numbers and graphs flashing non-stop on his screen.
He tugs off his scarf and slides his jacket off before turning on his laptop on the kitchen table and sitting on the chair, watching the screen boot up with eyes glazed over from fatigue but he needs this right now, needs to forget that he’s exhausted because he has to get up very early tomorrow.
As his desktop flashes on the screen, he unbuttons his shirt and slides it off, leaving it on the floor as he goes to undo his belt, and with his free hand, he opens a browser and he types in the new website he found a few days ago. He drops his belt on the floor next to his shirt and tugs down his zipper, finger skating the trackpad and hovering over the different categories, biting his bottom lip as he tries to figure out what he’s in the mood for. He clicks on “Blowjobs” and watches a mass of thumbnails flicker to life, and he pulls down his trousers along with his underwear and kicks them under the table. He slides his hands along his leg and up his thigh, feeling the hairs tickle his palm as he makes his way to his waist up to his chest, and he starts to rub himself when he clicks on a video down at the very bottom.
The player shows a young man with blond hair with his face inches away from the camera, smiling broadly at the man on the other side and saying something in another language. The image pans out after a few seconds and Harry slides his hands down to his stomach when blondie takes the man in his thin fingers and begins to tug at it, eyes glinting as he laughs at what the other man says. Soon, Harry’s leaning forward, watching the way blondie bobs his head up and down furiously, the moans of the cameraman blaring out deep and rough, and Harry picks up the pace, trying to match blondie’s rhythm and imagining his lips around him.
He slows to a stop, however, when blondie comes up for a breath and his eyes wander over to a piece of paper stuck under the saltshaker in the middle of the table, still folded. He pauses the video and reaches over to grab it, and, reading the blue numbers again, Niall’s face flashes in the back of his head, his laugh ringing in his ears, and his heart starts to race for a different reason, faster than it had been a moment ago.
He crumples the paper in his hand and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to clear his head. He tries to think about blondie’s mouth around him, wondering what his mouth feels like and how much he’d enjoy it if he could have him for a few hours. It doesn’t work, though, because he starts to think about that day in the restaurant, where the twinkle in Niall’s eyes when he laughed was more than enough reason to keep on staring and it’s crazy, he thinks, absolutely mental because he’s only spent a few hours with Niall and he’s already deep under his skin and he wonders what makes Niall so special.
He opens his eyes and sees blondie frozen on the computer screen, eyes looking straight at the camera with his mouth wide open, staring right at Harry, and he sighs and closes the laptop, the feeling in his chest returning again.
He stands up and scratches his head, growing anxious, trying to figure out what to do. He debates for a moment, walking around the living room and sitting on the sofa, before he stops pretending he hasn’t already made his decision, and he reaches over to grab his jacket from the floor and fishes out his mobile from the pocket. He unfolds the paper and types in the number, his heart picking up and his face getting hotter, and he takes a breath before he pressing the mobile against his ear and listening to the ring.
There’s a part of him that hopes Niall won’t answer because he doesn’t really know what to say, especially because it’s been about a week since the last time they’d seen each other and he’s always been shitty when it comes to keeping promises, but then there’s another part that wants to hear Niall’s voice, hear his laugh, like there’s an inexplicable hunger gnawing at his stomach, spreading all around his body, and he grips the mobile tight as he tries to steady his heartbeat, trying to decide which outcome he’d rather have.
He doesn’t dwell on it for long because Niall’s answers after the fifth ring, giving him a start, and he feels his palms starting to sweat and a lump forming in his throat.
“Hello?”
Harry bites his bottom lip, mind working furiously for something to say.
“Is anyone there? Hello?”
His mind comes up blank and he closes his eyes, flames flaring up under his skin.
“Harry, is this you?”
Harry opens his eyes and his heart skips a beat at his name. There’s an image of Niall grinning at him from across the table, eyes crystal blue, bright and happy.
“Harry?”
Harry holds his breath and clicks his mobile off, heart and mind going faster than a bullet train, and he drops it on the sofa and sinks back in his seat, eyes plastered on the wall opposite him, trying to figure out if he’d just made a mistake.
-
Harry picks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and pays the cab driver before pushing out the door and breathing in the cold morning air, ready to get the day done and over with.
He couldn’t sleep very well the night before, spending most of his time looking at the ceiling and watching beams of light shine through his curtains as cars drove past, trying to get Niall’s voice out of his head.
He’s not entirely sure why he couldn’t answer Niall when he picked-why he called in the first place even more, and sure, it’s been a while since they’d spoken to each other but it really shouldn’t be affecting him this much, how it feels like Niall’s constantly creeping inside his body and curling inside his chest, coiling around his heart like he wants to bore a hole and crawl deep inside. There’s something about Niall that sticks, more than anything should, really, and it’s a wonder how all of this stemmed from a few hours spent with the man when none of his other conquests have birthed anything other than a few bills missing from his wallet or an attempt to get his number for another round in his bed.
He’d decided then that pursuing Niall was a bad idea.
He tightens his jacket around him as he looks around, watching people getting in and out of the cafes and restaurants lining the street, and it’s then that he hears his stomach growling. Lack of sleep made him forget to cook breakfast but he reckons he can let someone else do it for him for a change, and stuffing his free hand in his jacket pocket, he looks both directions before running across the street and making his way to the café on the far end of the sidewalk.
He hears the distant tinkling of a bell and he sighs in relief, feeling the warm air wrapping around him as he listens to the idle chatter of patrons scattered across the place.
He walks up to the counter and picks out his order from the blackboard behind the cashier, and in a few minutes, he finds himself sitting in a table next to the window with a warm ham and cheese croissant and a hot cup of coffee steaming underneath his chin. He takes a few bites and watches cars rushing past him, people walking by on their mobiles, others running, late for work, perhaps, and he takes a sip of his coffee before turning to the couple sitting on the table beside him.
The woman has short-cropped blonde hair and pale skin, and she looks at the man sitting across from her with bright blue eyes, a smile stretching her lips as he tells her something Harry can’t quite make out, and all of a sudden, it’s as if he’s looking right at Niall, having taken her spot in a flash, laughing at the man’s joke as he stirs his coffee, and before he knows it, he finds himself staring.
He traces out the bridge of his nose, the faint lines around his eyes, and he’s not really sure what’s happening but he can’t stop himself, can’t make himself look away, and it’s only when he blinks that he realizes that Niall was never there, it’s always been the woman sitting where he was just a moment ago.
He shifts his eyes over to the man and sees him looking back with a puzzled expression, like Harry had just done something out of the ordinary, and he feels his heart starting to race.
“Got a problem, mate?” the man asks him, eyebrow raised and motioning to get up, and Harry’s taken aback by the question, wondering what it was he did. He looks over at the woman and sees her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, like something’s crawling in her skin, and it doesn’t take long for Harry to realize what he’d been doing.
“I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Harry begins, face heating up, but he stops when the man stands up and he sees the woman grab his arm in an effort to calm him down. It doesn’t work, though, and Harry knows he’s beyond reason at this point and he decides it’s better to drop his excuse and leave the place, so he collects his breakfast and utters a quick “sorry” before walking across the cafe and pushing through the doors.
He stands outside for a few moments, trying to calm his breathing and wondering how in the world he put himself in that situation this early in the morning.
He takes it as a sign, convincing himself that Niall will only lead to trouble and he has better things to do than sit around thinking about some guy he met for a few hours who decided to overstay his welcome, like going to work. He looks at his watch and sees he still has a few minutes before he needs to punch in, but he’s already lost his appetite and the coffee’s already turning cold, so he walks over to the trash can next to the entrance and throws them away.
-
Harry bites his bottom lip to stop himself from making too much noise but he’s getting there, getting very close, and he grabs the top of the stall wall to steady himself, huffing through his nose and drowning out his moans because it feels so fucking good and he squeezes his eyes shut, imagining lips wrapped around him, taking him fast and deep and tight and fuck he’s almost there, almost there, the grip on the stall getting stronger until his knuckles are turning white and his knees are bucking out from under him, the sensation taking over his body and he heaves a loud grunt as he shoots in the toilet, the streams collecting in the water at the bottom, and he holds himself for a second to catch his breath, squeezing out the last bits before bringing the remnants to his mouth and licking them off his finger.
He pulls off a few pieces of toilet paper and cleans himself up before flushing and walking out of the stall. He runs his hands under the tap and looks at himself in the mirror, watching the redness of his cheeks and the dark lines under his eyes. Sleep’s coming easier but not completely, fragments of Niall’s smile still finding their way in the back of his mind and he’s tired, tired of thinking, tired of feeling like there’s a part of him missing when there’s nothing there to fill. He sighs and brings his face down to the sink, washing it over with cold water before ripping of a few paper towels and drying himself up.
Outside the men’s room, Zayn’s chatting up with an intern from the sales deparment, a young woman with hair an odd shade of purple, and Harry has to shake his head because Zayn’s always been into peculiar things, thinks embracing things that are out of the ordinary makes him more universal or something and Harry decides to just accept it because at this point in their relationship, there’s really no point in questioning anything Zayn does.
“Been there an awful long time,” Zayn says after saying goodbye to the intern, balancing himself on the balls of his feet and wiggling his eyebrows like Harry’s supposed to know what it means. Harry just looks at him like he’s speaking another language.
“And?” Harry finally asks after Zayn doesn’t bother to elaborate, and Zayn grins at him with a shrug.
“You weren’t doing-you know-were you?” he asks, tipping his head closer to Harry and Harry immediately realizes where he’s going with this, and he sighs and shakes his head, making his way past Zayn with a roll of his eyes.
“Fuck off, Malik,” Harry says, not really feeling up to fooling around, and he hears Zayn laugh, followed by footsteps close behind him.
“Oh, come on, Haz, I was only joking,” Zayn says giddily, clapping Harry on the back. Harry shrugs his hand off and walks faster, just wanting to get to his cubicle without any more disturbance, but he feels Zayn’s arm sliding across his shoulders and he sighs again, wondering if Zayn’s even capable of taking a hint.
“What’s wrong, mate? Come on, you can tell me.”
Harry doesn’t answer until they get to his cubicle and Zayn looks at him earnestly, worry in his eyes, and Harry reckons he should appreciate his concern because they’re mates after all but sometimes, Zayn makes just everything more difficult with his roundabout way of expressing himself, acting more and more like a child with every year.
“I’m just tired, alright?” Harry replies, tone firm but not annoyed. “I’ve been trying to back everything up because of that fucking virus and it’s taking every last bit of my energy.”
Zayn nods, scratching his nose. “Yeah, I know how you feel. They’ve been trying to get me to figure out where it came from and it’s been a nightmare, honestly. It’s coming along, though.”
“Good. The sooner you figure this out, the sooner we can rest.”
“Could do with a little less pressure but I’ll take it.” Zayn grins and Harry finally indulges him with a smile. “You know what we need?”
Harry shrugs. “Alcohol?”
“Exactly,” Zayn says, tapping Harry’s nose with his finger. “Nothing a few rum and cokes can’t fix.”
Harry grins. Maybe getting shitfaced to hell and back isn’t such a bad idea.
← part one ♕ part two ♕ part three →
Pairings: Harry/Niall
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff
Rating: R
Summary: Harry has a sex addiction, and Niall just complicates things.
To be honest, Harry’s never really been good when it comes to dates.
Sure, he’s been in a few and none of them ended up horribly or anything, but he’s never really been the dating type. It’s not because he’s antisocial or weird or anything like that, but dates are always awkward, he thinks, because it’s difficult to find a common interest when he’s only met the person for a few minutes, hard to keep coming up with new topics just to get the conversation going and it’s exhausting sometimes, like trying to catch his breath at a marathon but he can’t because he still has a few yards to go and everyone’s already speeding past him, and really, he’d rather not deal with all the stress and just sit home and enjoy a movie while eating leftovers in the fridge.
But with Niall, it’s different.
When he asked Harry out to go to this restaurant near his place over breakfast, Harry was almost sure he was going to say “no, thank you” because that’s what he usually says in this type of situation, his safety net when he doesn’t feel like committing, but his mind had other plans and before he could think about what he’s going to say, he’s already telling Niall that “sure, I’d like that” and in a second, Niall’s lips were stretching from ear to ear, a glint of joy flashing behind his blue eyes, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Niall’s real fascinating, he thinks, not just because he can eat his way out of a pickup truck, and really, as Harry eats his pasta at a modest pace, he starts to wonder how on earth Niall could be so skinny after he orders a second plate of rib-eye steak, but because he seems to be genuinely interested in Harry, and it baffles him. He’s never really met anyone who gave two shits about his favorite movies or what he watched on the television a few days ago or how he gets his hair so curly (though Zayn doesn’t really count because he’s interested in everyone like he’s watching a private soap opera except he doesn’t have to pay for the monthly bill), and it was a very interesting experience when they started to share random trivia about each other like it’s every day conversation over a cup of tea, like how Harry has a star tattoo under his arm that he got from a friend when he turned sixteen and how Niall thinks rabbits are pointless because they don’t really do anything beneficial to society.
Time flies faster than Harry can keep track and when he looks down at his watch after Niall excuses himself to the bathroom, he realizes they’ve been talking for a little over two hours, and he has to raise an eyebrow because he didn’t know he had so much to say in the first place, always so used to giving one-sentence responses when someone would ask him how his day is. Then again, he didn’t really know how the date would go himself, just sort of let fate handle the course like he’s always done with everything else and it’s a nice surprise, he thinks, a nice break from the monotony of lazy weekends, and he decides that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to like Niall.
Niall comes back to the table wearing his smile like it’s permanently etched on his face and Harry watches him take his seat with a grin, watches him pick up his knife and fork without missing a beat and moving his chair closer to the table in one quick motion. Niall cuts into his steak and lifts his eyes up to look at Harry, and Harry gives a start like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to and he sits up straight, picking up the napkin next to his glass and wiping down the rim of his plate, not really knowing what to do with his hands.
“Something on my face?” Niall asks with a chuckle and Harry shakes his head and picks up his fork.
“No, no, you’re good,” Harry replies, face getting warmer, and he takes a small bite of his pasta to distract himself from his heartbeat. Niall grins and stuffs the piece of steak in his mouth.
“Well, you’ve got something on your-” Niall begins as he chews, finger tapping at the corner of his lips, and Harry picks up his napkin and wipes the stain off with a laugh, marveling at how comfortable he feels with someone he’s only met the night before like they’ve known each other their entire lives. He reckons it’s probably just Niall’s sunny disposition putting him at ease, with the smiling and laughing and telling jokes any chance he can get, but there’s a part of him that thinks it might be something else, something that he can’t quite put his finger on but he knows it’s good because he finds himself holding back his laughter when a piece of steak falls out from Niall’s fork and tumbles on the table down to the floor, and he drowns his laughs with the back of his hand when Niall looks at it in horror like he’s just broken a particularly expensive piece of furniture.
“It’s not funny!” Niall says, reaching across the table and smacking Harry lightly on the shoulder. “This is the most depressing thing that’s ever happened in my life.”
Harry washes down the last bits of laughter with water, his heart running a hundred miles an hour, and when Niall sees how red Harry’s face is, it’s his turn to laugh.
“Karma’s going to bite you in the arse, just you wait,” Niall adds with a smile, and Harry just shrugs and finishes the rest of his pasta.
The check comes a few minutes later and Niall insists on paying, but Harry takes the booklet in a flash before Niall could pull out his wallet and sticks his credit card inside, snapping it shut and holding it out of Niall’s reach.
“Come on, let me,” Niall says, standing up and making a grab for the booklet, but Harry shakes his head and hides it under the table.
“No, I’m paying, alright?” Harry says, and after trying one more time to grab the bill, Niall finally drops his shoulders in defeat and sits back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a kid who’s just lost a match, but his smile betrays his face and when the waiter comes over and picks up the booklet, Niall uncoils his arms and rests hands behind his head as he leans back in his seat, watching Harry with a satisfied look.
“If I’d known you were going to pay, I would have ordered another plate,” Niall says, patting his stomach with a grin and Harry laughs, still not getting over how Niall looks exactly as he did two hefty servings of steaks and mashed potatoes ago.
-
“This was really fun,” Niall says when they push through the doors of the restaurant, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking at Harry with a small smile.
“I-er-I had fun, too,” Harry says with a nod, shifting his eyes down to his trainers because he can feel his face heating up again despite the cool weather, and he tightens his jacket around him when he feels a cold wind brush past them.
“Told you it’d be fun, didn’t I?” Niall says matter-of-factly, and Harry looks up just in time to see him stuff his hand in his pocket to dig something out. Harry’s eyes follow his fingers as they emerge from the fabric with a folded piece of paper, and Niall moves forward and holds it out.
Harry’s not really sure what it’s for, but he slips it out of Niall’s fingers and opens it, and he traces out seven digits in blue ink. He shifts his attention back to Niall, who’s scratching the back of his head with a small smile.
“It’s my number,” Niall says, gesturing to the paper with a shrug. “I meant to give it to you before we left this morning but I forgot.”
Harry smiles and looks at the numbers again, following the neat penmanship, and he starts to feel a swelling in his chest, pushing out against his skin and squeezing his heart until he can hear every beat in his ears.
“If you want to hang out or talk or anything,” Niall continues, moving his eyes to the pavement and balancing himself on the balls of his feet, nerves almost tangible, “just give me a ring, yeah?”
Harry’s not quite sure what to feel, really, doesn’t really know how to react to this sort of thing because it’s never come to this point most of the time, never ended up with lunch dates or the exchange of numbers because they’d usually be out of his flat when he wakes up the next morning, and maybe he’s been a bit rusty at these things, quite detached because all he worries about lately is getting off and meeting his deadlines at work and there hadn’t been much room for anything else, really, especially nothing like this. But it’s an odd feeling, though. Not a particularly bad one, mind you, but still quite peculiar.
“Sure,” Harry replies, grinning now and sliding the paper in his pocket, deciding to take the chance with this one. “I’ll do that.”
Niall looks up and returns his grin, flashing brighter than the morning sun, and there’s that feeling in Harry’s chest again, getting bigger and bigger and stretching down to the pit of his stomach, and when Niall makes a step forward and places a kiss on the corner of his lips, his heart stops for a second and a jolt runs through his body, right down to his toes.
“I’ll-er-I’ll just see you later, then,” Niall says, stepping backward and sliding his hands in his pockets with a nod. “Have a nice day, Harry.”
Harry blinks himself out of his stupor and taps the paper through his trousers with a smile, the feeling of Niall’s lips still burning on his skin
“You too, Niall.”
-
Harry closes the door behind him and throws his briefcase on the sofa, cracking his neck with a deep sigh and feeling like there’s something heavy sitting on his shoulders.
The big talk of the day was the emergence of a virus in the company’s main hard drive, spreading through everyone’s computer stations like wildfire and deleting a few important files from Harry’s folders. There were many speculations as to what caused the virus; some say the firewall wasn’t installed correctly or that a few of the antivirus programs couldn’t recognize and stop it in time before it spread across the building, but the damage was done and Harry had spent the entire day walking around trying to figure out what’s going on and running over to the electronic store to buy external hard drives to back up everything important in his files before they were deleted as well, and he had to re-type a few reports and statistics on top of everything and by the end of the day, he could feel his head going numb from seeing countless numbers and graphs flashing non-stop on his screen.
He tugs off his scarf and slides his jacket off before turning on his laptop on the kitchen table and sitting on the chair, watching the screen boot up with eyes glazed over from fatigue but he needs this right now, needs to forget that he’s exhausted because he has to get up very early tomorrow.
As his desktop flashes on the screen, he unbuttons his shirt and slides it off, leaving it on the floor as he goes to undo his belt, and with his free hand, he opens a browser and he types in the new website he found a few days ago. He drops his belt on the floor next to his shirt and tugs down his zipper, finger skating the trackpad and hovering over the different categories, biting his bottom lip as he tries to figure out what he’s in the mood for. He clicks on “Blowjobs” and watches a mass of thumbnails flicker to life, and he pulls down his trousers along with his underwear and kicks them under the table. He slides his hands along his leg and up his thigh, feeling the hairs tickle his palm as he makes his way to his waist up to his chest, and he starts to rub himself when he clicks on a video down at the very bottom.
The player shows a young man with blond hair with his face inches away from the camera, smiling broadly at the man on the other side and saying something in another language. The image pans out after a few seconds and Harry slides his hands down to his stomach when blondie takes the man in his thin fingers and begins to tug at it, eyes glinting as he laughs at what the other man says. Soon, Harry’s leaning forward, watching the way blondie bobs his head up and down furiously, the moans of the cameraman blaring out deep and rough, and Harry picks up the pace, trying to match blondie’s rhythm and imagining his lips around him.
He slows to a stop, however, when blondie comes up for a breath and his eyes wander over to a piece of paper stuck under the saltshaker in the middle of the table, still folded. He pauses the video and reaches over to grab it, and, reading the blue numbers again, Niall’s face flashes in the back of his head, his laugh ringing in his ears, and his heart starts to race for a different reason, faster than it had been a moment ago.
He crumples the paper in his hand and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to clear his head. He tries to think about blondie’s mouth around him, wondering what his mouth feels like and how much he’d enjoy it if he could have him for a few hours. It doesn’t work, though, because he starts to think about that day in the restaurant, where the twinkle in Niall’s eyes when he laughed was more than enough reason to keep on staring and it’s crazy, he thinks, absolutely mental because he’s only spent a few hours with Niall and he’s already deep under his skin and he wonders what makes Niall so special.
He opens his eyes and sees blondie frozen on the computer screen, eyes looking straight at the camera with his mouth wide open, staring right at Harry, and he sighs and closes the laptop, the feeling in his chest returning again.
He stands up and scratches his head, growing anxious, trying to figure out what to do. He debates for a moment, walking around the living room and sitting on the sofa, before he stops pretending he hasn’t already made his decision, and he reaches over to grab his jacket from the floor and fishes out his mobile from the pocket. He unfolds the paper and types in the number, his heart picking up and his face getting hotter, and he takes a breath before he pressing the mobile against his ear and listening to the ring.
There’s a part of him that hopes Niall won’t answer because he doesn’t really know what to say, especially because it’s been about a week since the last time they’d seen each other and he’s always been shitty when it comes to keeping promises, but then there’s another part that wants to hear Niall’s voice, hear his laugh, like there’s an inexplicable hunger gnawing at his stomach, spreading all around his body, and he grips the mobile tight as he tries to steady his heartbeat, trying to decide which outcome he’d rather have.
He doesn’t dwell on it for long because Niall’s answers after the fifth ring, giving him a start, and he feels his palms starting to sweat and a lump forming in his throat.
“Hello?”
Harry bites his bottom lip, mind working furiously for something to say.
“Is anyone there? Hello?”
His mind comes up blank and he closes his eyes, flames flaring up under his skin.
“Harry, is this you?”
Harry opens his eyes and his heart skips a beat at his name. There’s an image of Niall grinning at him from across the table, eyes crystal blue, bright and happy.
“Harry?”
Harry holds his breath and clicks his mobile off, heart and mind going faster than a bullet train, and he drops it on the sofa and sinks back in his seat, eyes plastered on the wall opposite him, trying to figure out if he’d just made a mistake.
-
Harry picks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and pays the cab driver before pushing out the door and breathing in the cold morning air, ready to get the day done and over with.
He couldn’t sleep very well the night before, spending most of his time looking at the ceiling and watching beams of light shine through his curtains as cars drove past, trying to get Niall’s voice out of his head.
He’s not entirely sure why he couldn’t answer Niall when he picked-why he called in the first place even more, and sure, it’s been a while since they’d spoken to each other but it really shouldn’t be affecting him this much, how it feels like Niall’s constantly creeping inside his body and curling inside his chest, coiling around his heart like he wants to bore a hole and crawl deep inside. There’s something about Niall that sticks, more than anything should, really, and it’s a wonder how all of this stemmed from a few hours spent with the man when none of his other conquests have birthed anything other than a few bills missing from his wallet or an attempt to get his number for another round in his bed.
He’d decided then that pursuing Niall was a bad idea.
He tightens his jacket around him as he looks around, watching people getting in and out of the cafes and restaurants lining the street, and it’s then that he hears his stomach growling. Lack of sleep made him forget to cook breakfast but he reckons he can let someone else do it for him for a change, and stuffing his free hand in his jacket pocket, he looks both directions before running across the street and making his way to the café on the far end of the sidewalk.
He hears the distant tinkling of a bell and he sighs in relief, feeling the warm air wrapping around him as he listens to the idle chatter of patrons scattered across the place.
He walks up to the counter and picks out his order from the blackboard behind the cashier, and in a few minutes, he finds himself sitting in a table next to the window with a warm ham and cheese croissant and a hot cup of coffee steaming underneath his chin. He takes a few bites and watches cars rushing past him, people walking by on their mobiles, others running, late for work, perhaps, and he takes a sip of his coffee before turning to the couple sitting on the table beside him.
The woman has short-cropped blonde hair and pale skin, and she looks at the man sitting across from her with bright blue eyes, a smile stretching her lips as he tells her something Harry can’t quite make out, and all of a sudden, it’s as if he’s looking right at Niall, having taken her spot in a flash, laughing at the man’s joke as he stirs his coffee, and before he knows it, he finds himself staring.
He traces out the bridge of his nose, the faint lines around his eyes, and he’s not really sure what’s happening but he can’t stop himself, can’t make himself look away, and it’s only when he blinks that he realizes that Niall was never there, it’s always been the woman sitting where he was just a moment ago.
He shifts his eyes over to the man and sees him looking back with a puzzled expression, like Harry had just done something out of the ordinary, and he feels his heart starting to race.
“Got a problem, mate?” the man asks him, eyebrow raised and motioning to get up, and Harry’s taken aback by the question, wondering what it was he did. He looks over at the woman and sees her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, like something’s crawling in her skin, and it doesn’t take long for Harry to realize what he’d been doing.
“I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Harry begins, face heating up, but he stops when the man stands up and he sees the woman grab his arm in an effort to calm him down. It doesn’t work, though, and Harry knows he’s beyond reason at this point and he decides it’s better to drop his excuse and leave the place, so he collects his breakfast and utters a quick “sorry” before walking across the cafe and pushing through the doors.
He stands outside for a few moments, trying to calm his breathing and wondering how in the world he put himself in that situation this early in the morning.
He takes it as a sign, convincing himself that Niall will only lead to trouble and he has better things to do than sit around thinking about some guy he met for a few hours who decided to overstay his welcome, like going to work. He looks at his watch and sees he still has a few minutes before he needs to punch in, but he’s already lost his appetite and the coffee’s already turning cold, so he walks over to the trash can next to the entrance and throws them away.
-
Harry bites his bottom lip to stop himself from making too much noise but he’s getting there, getting very close, and he grabs the top of the stall wall to steady himself, huffing through his nose and drowning out his moans because it feels so fucking good and he squeezes his eyes shut, imagining lips wrapped around him, taking him fast and deep and tight and fuck he’s almost there, almost there, the grip on the stall getting stronger until his knuckles are turning white and his knees are bucking out from under him, the sensation taking over his body and he heaves a loud grunt as he shoots in the toilet, the streams collecting in the water at the bottom, and he holds himself for a second to catch his breath, squeezing out the last bits before bringing the remnants to his mouth and licking them off his finger.
He pulls off a few pieces of toilet paper and cleans himself up before flushing and walking out of the stall. He runs his hands under the tap and looks at himself in the mirror, watching the redness of his cheeks and the dark lines under his eyes. Sleep’s coming easier but not completely, fragments of Niall’s smile still finding their way in the back of his mind and he’s tired, tired of thinking, tired of feeling like there’s a part of him missing when there’s nothing there to fill. He sighs and brings his face down to the sink, washing it over with cold water before ripping of a few paper towels and drying himself up.
Outside the men’s room, Zayn’s chatting up with an intern from the sales deparment, a young woman with hair an odd shade of purple, and Harry has to shake his head because Zayn’s always been into peculiar things, thinks embracing things that are out of the ordinary makes him more universal or something and Harry decides to just accept it because at this point in their relationship, there’s really no point in questioning anything Zayn does.
“Been there an awful long time,” Zayn says after saying goodbye to the intern, balancing himself on the balls of his feet and wiggling his eyebrows like Harry’s supposed to know what it means. Harry just looks at him like he’s speaking another language.
“And?” Harry finally asks after Zayn doesn’t bother to elaborate, and Zayn grins at him with a shrug.
“You weren’t doing-you know-were you?” he asks, tipping his head closer to Harry and Harry immediately realizes where he’s going with this, and he sighs and shakes his head, making his way past Zayn with a roll of his eyes.
“Fuck off, Malik,” Harry says, not really feeling up to fooling around, and he hears Zayn laugh, followed by footsteps close behind him.
“Oh, come on, Haz, I was only joking,” Zayn says giddily, clapping Harry on the back. Harry shrugs his hand off and walks faster, just wanting to get to his cubicle without any more disturbance, but he feels Zayn’s arm sliding across his shoulders and he sighs again, wondering if Zayn’s even capable of taking a hint.
“What’s wrong, mate? Come on, you can tell me.”
Harry doesn’t answer until they get to his cubicle and Zayn looks at him earnestly, worry in his eyes, and Harry reckons he should appreciate his concern because they’re mates after all but sometimes, Zayn makes just everything more difficult with his roundabout way of expressing himself, acting more and more like a child with every year.
“I’m just tired, alright?” Harry replies, tone firm but not annoyed. “I’ve been trying to back everything up because of that fucking virus and it’s taking every last bit of my energy.”
Zayn nods, scratching his nose. “Yeah, I know how you feel. They’ve been trying to get me to figure out where it came from and it’s been a nightmare, honestly. It’s coming along, though.”
“Good. The sooner you figure this out, the sooner we can rest.”
“Could do with a little less pressure but I’ll take it.” Zayn grins and Harry finally indulges him with a smile. “You know what we need?”
Harry shrugs. “Alcohol?”
“Exactly,” Zayn says, tapping Harry’s nose with his finger. “Nothing a few rum and cokes can’t fix.”
Harry grins. Maybe getting shitfaced to hell and back isn’t such a bad idea.
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