time after time [2/2]
title: time after time
author: leira17
ships: louis/harry
rating: pg-15
word count: ~7k
warnings: lots o' swearing
summary: right. okay. the day was repeating itself. t-that’s fine -- that’s cool. louis can deal with that. weird shit happens in this band all the time.
note: beta'd by my lovely laurencake. written for this prompt (and also posted) at the kinkmeme. all polished up and beta'd now! also, disclaimer, i have never seen groundhog day, though i have, in fact, seen the episode of the suite life on deck where the same thing happens.
louis comes home to an empty flat and is glad for it. he heads straight to harry’s room and strips down, putting on a pair of harry’s sweatpants and the ‘harry ♥ louis’ shirt. he climbs into harry’s bed and wonders when he became this cullen-esque creep, closing his eyes tightly against the thoughts that cloud his mind. he’s so tired. he doesn’t want to deal with any of this. he doesn’t want to live the same day for the rest of forever because his subconscious decided it was a good day to fall in love with harry styles. it’s all so ridiculous and he hates every second of it, except for the part where he doesn’t.
-
(when he texts liam how absolutely scared he is of telling harry that this time-loop is all his fault, liam responds you tawt even if hazza didnt love u-love u he woud still LOVE U whats the issue which makes a lot of sense, oddly enough, but love is senseless. or maybe that was just louis.)
-
“not going to ask me how jail was?” harry asks the next morning, all smiles and cheekiness in louis’ bedroom door. louis takes a moment to thank a higher power for the fact that this spell or whatever always puts him back in his own bed and pajamas every morning.
“how was jail?” louis obliges, sitting up and stretching.
“not as bad as gemma made it sound.” at louis’ questioning look, “don’t ask.”
“great, haz,” louis says, in a bit of a rush to be away. “i’m going to have a shower now, if you don’t mind.”
“o-okay.”
harry leaves, his eyebrows all bunched together worriedly. louis bangs his head against the wall, lightly, calling out an ‘i’m okay!’ to harry before he can come back in. fucking hell. it’s worse, seeing him, knowing how mad he’ll be that this fucking day is louis’ fault, all louis’ fault. he isn’t in the mood to do anything ridiculous today, and he doesn’t, ignoring harry’s increasingly anxious looks as the day goes by without event.
-
harry comes in the kitchen and gives louis a big smile, like he’s so fucking happy to see him, and louis tears his eyes away like they’ve been burned. there’s a bit of an awkward pause while he puts his energy into mashing the potatoes in front of him.
“having a midnight snack?” harry asks lightly.
“yep.”
“mashed potatoes, huh?”
“yep.”
he knows it’s not fair, because harry hasn’t actually done anything wrong except be loved by the wrong person, but if he looks at harry again he’ll just break down.
there’s a weight on his back, then, and louis realises that harry is hugging him from behind. harry hooks his chin over louis’ shoulder, totally oblivious to how louis tenses. or maybe he isn’t, but is ignoring it because he’s harry and they’re harry and louis and the idea that louis doesn’t want him clinging is a foreign one.
“hey,” harry says, voice soft, “remember when your mum used to put peas in and mix them all up so you’d eat your peas?”
“my mother never did that.” louis resists the urge to physically throw harry off of him, because harry will indeed remember in the morning, and what the fuck kind of luck was that? if it was only louis in this situation, he could try every day to phrase ‘i want to kiss your face’ in a way that wouldn’t make harry laugh or cringe or, worst of all, be totally disgusted. he can’t figure out whether or not he’d prefer to be alone in this. it’s a bit of a moot point, though, so he pushes it from his mind.
“really?” harry nuzzles into the junction between louis’ neck and shoulder. “mine did. yours should’ve, too. you sure she didn’t?”
if he was really angry at harry, this would be the point where he’d crack into a smile and offer to share the mash. but he isn’t angry at harry. he isn’t even angry. he’s just sad.
“i’m sure,” he says, extricating himself from harry’s arms on the pretense of getting a spoon.
“huh,” harry says. louis doesn’t turn to look at him, just brings the whole pot of potatoes into the living room and turns on miranda. a few minutes later, he hears harry’s bedroom door close. louis sighs deeply, tipping his head back. loving harry was the easy part. now, telling him, that was -- that was something else.
-
the best person to confide in, louis decides, is niall. because he’s already told liam, even if he’s forgotten by today, and he doesn’t imagine his reaction will be much different, and zayn will just unintentionally be as unhelpful as he possibly can, so on the way home from the interview/fan session, louis tugs niall away from the others, asks if he wants to go to nando’s. he ignores the hurt puppy look he gets from harry, instead slinging an arm around niall’s shoulders as they walk down the street with two of their guard in tow.
“what’s on your mind?” niall asks, eternally cheerful.
“i’m having a bit of a problem,” louis says. he’s determined to boil it down to the basics -- for one thing, they’re on a busy street and for another, niall wouldn’t react as liam did, would probably think it all a joke. “a problem of the ‘fancying someone you shouldn’t’ persuasion.”
niall nods like he understands. “the very worst kind, then.”
“so give me your irish wisdom.” louis is only half-joking, and guesses that niall picks up on that pretty quickly, because he pulls louis to the side of the nearest building and stops, flicking a hand out to prevent the security getting too close.
“okay,” he says, his eyes still dancing with the smile that’s left his mouth, “so first of all, tell me who it is before i wrestle it out of you.”
twisting his lips into a mocking smile, louis says, “pass.”
“all right,” niall says. he doesn’t seem overly bothered but then, he never does. “so then, what’s stopping you from fancying them? there’s got to be a reason you ‘shouldn’t’, yeah?” he puts air-quotes around the word and it’s so precious that louis wants to pinch his cheeks and coo like a great-aunt but he doesn’t, just thinks about the question long and hard. what actually was the issue?
“it’s a guy,” he says, and niall says, “is that the problem?” and louis shakes his head.
“he’s my best mate,” he says, and niall says, “you’ve given me all the clues i need and i still don’t see a problem, mate.”
louis takes a deep breath. “he doesn’t. like me. that way. probably. that’s why i shouldn’t.”
“lou,” niall laughs, “if everybody everywhere thought the way you do, nobody in the world would be together. you can’t say you ‘shouldn’t’ because they might not fancy you, because then it’s just a missed opportunity and what if they do?” then he pauses in this delightful wisdom that louis thinks he might trick zayn into tweeting and says, “besides, haz fuckin’ adores you. if you think he’s going to, whatever, shun you, then you’re sort of a twat.”
he hasn’t mentioned the important part, where he got harry stuck in a groundhog day eternity and why would anyone adore anyone after being told that, but it’s all a bit complicated and niall is already onto the topic of breaded chicken, so louis just walks alongside him, feeling light.
-
“pence for ‘em?” harry asks in a careful tone that makes louis want to punch himself repeatedly in the face. he lets himself smile and harry smiles back, hovering in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s welcome.
“nuh-uh,” louis says. “these thoughts are worth more than that.” he scoots over to make room for harry, whose smile widens before he slips under the covers and leans back against the wall. louis curls up so his head is in harry’s lap, and harry hesitantly strokes louis’ hair. when louis does nothing but keep smiling, he does it again. repeatedly.
“fine, okay. pound for your thoughts?”
“eh, good enough,” louis laughs, because it’s easier to do this laughing. “i love you. like in a very non-platonic sort of way.”
harry’s nails catch on his ear, which. ow. he’s quiet for what feels like an entire ice age, but is probably under a minute, before he continues playing with louis’ hair. “you’re right,” he says quietly, “that is worth more than a pence.”
“glad to hear it,” louis says. harry just hums, fingers carding through louis’ hair absently, and louis isn’t the best at knowing when to keep quiet, he never has been, but honestly if harry doesn’t say something soon he will combust. “so, like,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut, “that’s why this. the day. thing. that’s why it’s happening. because i, you know. love you.”
now harry stops. “we -- you got us stuck in a fuckin’ time loop because you wanted in my pants?”
“well, i didn’t know.”
“about the time loop or about wanting in my pants?”
louis says, “er, a bit of both?” and harry says, “you’re such a bloody idiot,” and he’s kissing the top of louis’ head, which is nice and all, but not exactly a reaction one way or the other.
“um,” harry finally says, blowing out a breath against louis’ hair as he does. “i’m not sure how to say this.”
wonderful. louis would try to get out of the bed except that harry’s kind of holding him there and also, if he’d been the one with nothing but platonic feelings for harry, he certainly wouldn’t want him to just run off and be embarrassed. no, no, that wasn’t the larry stylinson way. they were a team, they could work through this like they had every other obstacle that came their way, be it a manager in a suit or a time loop straight out of doctor who. so he just snuggles closer to harry, glad when harry’s arm wraps around him.
“um,” harry says again, and louis just wants to cry and tell him that he doesn’t have to say anything, he just doesn’t, because it’ll make it worse, but he’s already in the middle of a sentence, “-- like stars -- if this is a dream, i don’t want to -- baby you light up my world --”
“what,” louis says, thoroughly confused.
“how the fuck,” harry explodes, “am i supposed to follow that? i can’t just -- i can’t say ‘i love you too’ because that’s lame and unoriginal and i don’t do lame and unoriginal, but i’ve -- i’ve never met anyone like you, lou, ever, and how i feel about you’s always been, you know, different, and new, and if that’s what love is, spending every waking minute with someone and -- and still wanting to know what they thought about the day, if the pizza tasted as good to them as it did to you or if there was a hole in their sock that was bothering them for hours -- if that’s love, then, yeah, yes, i’m in it.”
literally all louis can say is “oh”, and that takes quite a lot of effort. harry’s fingers have started to explore, now, scratching behind his ear and brushing his collarbone like they’ve been given permission. which makes it pretty hard to think, actually.
“also,” harry says in a very conversational sort of tone, “since it’s probably why you waited so long to tell me, you dick, i’m not mad about the beaver day thing.”
“no?” louis’ voice is small, and harry chuckles.
“hell no. did you see all the things we got to do? i got rid of zayn’s entire hair collection!” he sounds so proud that louis doesn’t bother pointing out that it’s back now, anyway. “but this is probably the last one, isn’t it? i mean, if you really did cause it, it’s done. you’ve told me. finally. we’re going to wake up and it’ll be tomorrow, won’t it?”
louis rolls onto his back, startling harry’s roaming fingers. he shrugs, which is a hard thing to do when his head is in his best mate’s lap. which -- okay, he won’t go there.
“dunno,” he says, grinning a little. “maybe you’re meant to kiss me. just in case.”
“you’re such a shit,” harry says, but he’s laughing and shoving louis off his legs. louis spares a moment to be offended that is instantly overtaken by pleasant surprise when harry straddles his thighs, unabashed. “i really don’t know what i see in you.” louis’ witty retort is lost in harry’s lips, which, rude.
he finds he doesn’t mind much, though, because harry’s lips are soft and pliant over his, and he sighs into the kiss, his hands finding purchase on harry’s hips. which, apparently, is a signal for harry to coax his tongue into louis’ mouth and this is wonderful, really, not just the kissing but the newness of it, the idea that there’s more to learn about harry, about all the places that make him giggle and sigh and moan and louis thinks that if this loop is indeed eternal, he’ll gladly spend until the end of the universe memorising harry. and when harry’s tongue curls against his, he’s hit with a sudden jealous rage at all the people harry’s kissed, every single one, and he digs the pads of his fingers into the denim at harry’s hips, which just seems to spur harry on more.
louis has so many things he wants to say, ranging from ‘you’re kind of a slut’ to ‘i fucking love you’ to ‘please stop making that noise’ to ‘please never stop’, but harry gives him zero chance to speak.
he kind of likes that, actually.
-
thunder booms outside louis’ window, jolting him awake. harry’s eyes open, too, and he grins.
“beat it, i guess,” he says, snuggling into louis’ warmth.
louis is just about to drift off again when a thought hits him, and he says, “wait, which of the days actually happened?” harry doesn’t seem to care much, since he’s not in a jail cell and he’s got a louis beside him, so the louis in question resolves to ask liam later, just catching the tail end of harry’s mumbled, “i hope it’s the one where zayn’s products were murdered,” before tucking his head against harry’s chest and falling back to sleep.