82. | hey boy, i really wanna be with you
82.
hey boy, i really wanna be with you
cause you’re just my type
liam/louis (4542 words)
OMG this is the craziet thing. I'm a little bit late because I got distracted by tirimasu ice cream and bad Mary-Kate and Ashley movies, but IT'S HERE NOW. A SYMBOL OF THE NEW YEAR. MY YEAR OF INSANITY. This is, obviously, for 1datemylife, but especially for Ace, who's been encouraging this and sending me the best pictures/gifs/stories ever. YOU ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE, PRESIDENT.
This is also ridiculous. THIS IS SO RIDICULOUS. HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES, I'M RIGHTING ABOUT UNDERAGE TEENS.
eta: omg i should also add that i've been drinking chapagne for a while now, so OOPS sorry typos. not druink i swear.
Liam is sitting on the couch watching the news because he’s too comfortable to get up and find the remote to change the channel. There’s political crap and international crises and, embarrassingly enough, a small entertainment section that recaps X Factor. It must be a really slow day, Liam thinks lazily, stretching out a bit and curling more securely around his pillow.
The doorbell rings.
Liam seriously considers not answering it. His body protests the idea, but his mum isn’t home right now and what if it’s something important? His body and moral code war with each other for a brief moment, and the bell rings again, almost curious sounding, like hello?
He pushes himself up, giving the couch a look, before walking to the front door. He contemplates looking through the peephole but there’s a huge wreath hanging on the door as part of his mum’s Christmas decorations and it’s not worth the trouble, and just as he’s swinging the door open, Louis presses the ringer again.
“Oh. Hey!” Louis’ smile is bright and cheerful, despite the overcast skies, and Liam thinks for a moment that he’s actually imagining this moment. It doesn’t compute in his mind, that Louis could be standing on his doorstep with a duffle bag and a grin that stretches wide and happy.
“Hi?” Liam finally remembers to say, although it’s kind of hesitant and confused, and Louis’ smile dims a little. “I mean, um, what’s -- what’s going on here?” Liam frantically tries to remember if he’d invited Louis over without realizing, or if Louis had (more likely) told Liam he was coming over, or even if Louis had tweeted anything about it (not that Liam gets Louis’ tweets to his phone, or anything like that).
“I was just thinking, you know, that I should come see you.” Louis is trying and failing miserably to look innocent as he edges his way into the house; Liam automatically steps back to let him in. “Because you had to be missing me, seeing as I am the best thing that has ever happened to you and the world in general.”
He lets his bag slide down to the floor and surveys the room, looking at the television, which has switched over to some strange reality court case show; the judge brandishes her gavel and looks supremely bored, and Louis’ lip curves a little. Liam crushes the urge to explain that he wasn’t this boring normally, he really wasn’t, but he kind of was.
“So...” Liam cannot believe how idiotic he sounds right now. He’s always been a little awkward around Louis, for reasons that shall not be named, but this is ridiculous. He forces himself to regroup and then says, “You’ve come to visit me?”
Louis throws himself onto the couch and beams up at Liam. “I called your mum and she said it was fine with her. I brought my sleeping bag, this is going to be so awesome.” He picks up the remote and presses random numbers to see what pops up.
Part of Liam’s mind is cursing his mother (she knows how he feels about Louis, dammit, but she also adores him because he’s a charming little freak who can be immature enough to put salt in his hat and put it on his head, but still sweet enough to remember to call on her birthday) and the other part is wondering why Louis came to Liam’s house.
He immediately feels bitchy for thinking that. It’s not a great feeling, but it’s one that he often associates with Louis. Because, as evident by the internet at large, which Liam does not spend any time on at all, Louis and he aren’t the closest band members. Louis and Harry are practically inseparable when together and Zayn has always been the easiest to relate to for Liam.
Liam’s completely aware that his own inability to spend time with Louis is due to some unfortunate feelings he might have, but Louis clearly just likes him as a regular sort of friend, and nothing quite as deep as would be necessary for an impromptu slumber party.
But. Liam isn’t going to suggest that he go somewhere because not only is that so incredibly rude that his mum would probably kill him, but he’s a little pleased that Louis chose to come here. Unless he wasn’t able to stay at any of the other guys’ houses and Liam is a last choice. The thought of that is so unspeakably depressing that Liam can’t bring himself to ask, so he says, “Uh, alright. So, um, have you seen the other guys recently?” Oh, very nice, Liam. Incredibly subtle.
“Hmmm,” Louis hums, intent on the television, “nah. Texted Harry earlier and tweeted at Niall about three days ago. He was doing a video without a microphone, that twat.” He laughs a little bit.
Liam’s smiling before he can help it. He sits down to cover it up and says, “Sounds like Niall.” He suddenly fiercely misses the rest of them. It’s been a dull ache, being separated after so long all together in such close quarters, but with Louis sitting in front of him, enraptured by a rerun of Next Top Model, he realizes that he wishes they were here.
At the very least, he wishes Zayn were here, so he could at least have someone to talk to. Harry would give him leers and gesture obscenely at Louis where he couldn’t see and Niall would give him deeply obvious looks whenever Louis did anything remotely flirty, which was practically all the time, given Louis’ personality. And yet, he still wishes they were here.
“So, uh,” Liam ventures after a few moments of Tyra making truly horrible faces as examples to the models, “how long are you here?”
Louis is quiet for a moment, staring intently at a model contorting her body around a miniature city while a photographer barks at her to look like a thunderstorm. “Not sure,” he says finally. The silence should be awkward, like it usually is, but there’s a question there and Liam can answer it.
“Okay,” he says, and settles back onto the couch, curling around the pillow and trying not to freak out when Louis settles against him.
His mother, of course, is all giggles and smiles when she gets back from shopping, and Louis is introduced to Liam’s room and they have an almost normal dinner. Louis does do something weird and funny with his glass of water and a fork, but it’s not as strange as some of the things he’s done before and his mother almost dies laughing.
After dinner they watch television some more, and Louis prank calls Niall and Harry, but Zayn doesn’t pick up. (He later sends a tweet that says “so original, louis” and a thousand girls send hearts and smiles at Louis. He laughs brightly, reading all of them and grinning to himself.)
“I prank called you once, you know,” he tells Liam, who stops playing solitaire on his phone to look up in surprise.
“Really?” It’s actually something that Liam was doing his best not to obsess over, the fact that Louis hadn’t tried to do it to him yet. “Wait -- wait, were you that guy who called about the refrigerator running?”
Louis’ cheeks go pink. “I might’ve panicked a little.”
“I honestly thought that was a nine year old just learning that you could call people you didn’t know and bug them,” Liam tells him, laughing a little. Louis pouts a bit but nudges him good-naturedly with his shoulder and goes back to his tweets.
Hmm. Liam contemplates the floor where Louis’ sleeping bag is spread out. It’s bright yellow and has little pikachus all over it, which is really only to be expected. Louis is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and humming to himself -- it’s Only Girl In the World, which isn’t cute at all.
Liam runs his tongue over his teeth and looks at his bed. This is sort of weird. He kind of feels like he should offer his bed to Louis, but he does not want to sleep on the floor or in that sleeping bag. Plus, he doesn’t know how long Louis is going to be staying -- what if it’s days of sleeping on the ground? Liam decides to shuffle over to his bookshelf and look at the books there like he’s being thoughtful and intelligent, or something.
“I’m knackered,” Louis announces, stretching and wandering into the room. His shirt rises up over the hem of his boxer shorts and Liam quickly goes back to reading the back of a thesaurus. “All the excitement must’ve gotten to me, eh?” he grins, and Liam smiles back at him helplessly.
Why are you here, he thinks again, and waits for Louis to crawl into his bag and shuffle around a few minutes before declaring himself “comfortable, thanks” and shutting off the light. His bed is absurdly cold and he shivers for a few minutes before relaxing against the sheets.
I can hear him breathing, Liam thinks. Correction: snoring. Louis turns over in his bag and the sound lessens, and Liam closes his eyes and falls into a fretful sleep.
He wakes up in the morning and turns over into the bed to smash his face into his pillow just because it’s morning. It smells strange, like a shampoo his relative might wear. He breathes deeply and smiles.
Louis is in the bathroom again, whistling the song from Snow White and making way too much noise. Liam stretches and gets up.
The next few days are actually incredibly awesome. Liam is sure that things are going to be weird, but Louis is oddly calm and prone to falling into silences, and so Liam is obligated to cheer him up -- it takes away from the awkwardness that comes of Louis acting like an attention whore and Liam not sure how to react to it.
They go shopping, even though it’s like a week from Christmas and there are insane people fluttering around stores screeching at their children and fighting with their spouses. They watch people doing their late shopping and Louis gives them voices.
“No, dear, I do not want this stupid fucking toaster for my mum, I want that stupid fucking toaster -- your mum doesn’t even eat toast! -- not the point, dear, now get me an espresso, we have to get to the Gap in a bit, your dad could use some weekday underwear.” Liam laughs and Louis gives him this look out of the corner of his eye, ducking his head and smiling just a little bit.
They buy bags of skittles and wander around eating them and window shopping. Louis seems to want to look at everything, and they go into stores regardless of what they’re selling -- once they wander into a maternity store and look through the clothing for about ten minutes before a hugely pregnant woman wanders by and asks them if they’re shopping for their mum. Louis cracks up and Liam flushes and drags him out.
Five days pass and nothing big happens.
Harry texts Liam:
Louis w/ u?
y
dont knck him up, k
...
;)
Liam keeps waking up every morning and the smell is still on his pillows. He wakes up and rolls over and it smells like oranges, like something citrusy and ripe on his pillowcases. His own shampoo is sort of pine-y, so he knows it’s not him. He glances at the floor, but Louis curled up in his yellow sleeping bag, eyelashes fluttering and mouth pink.
Liam buries his face in his pillow and groans.
The thing about spending so much time with Louis is that he’s in this horrible halfway point between thrilled and awkward. Liam’s always been that way around Louis, but the extended exposure means he’s having to get over the awkwardness, and now they’re in this unexplored place of friendship that Liam isn’t sure he can handle.
He just -- there isn’t any reason he should like Louis, there really isn’t, but the more time he spends with him, the more he likes him. He likes his silly smile, and his blue eyes, and his laugh and his obnoxious jokes and the way he reads all of his fans’ letters and the way he touches Liam’s elbow sometimes, like he wants to wrap his hand around his arm but doesn’t quite know how to go about doing it. Liam’s actually pretty sure he’s starting to more than like Louis, but there’s really not a lot of reason to get into that, is there.
Louis laughs across the room, talking to Harry on the phone.
Liam texts Zayn:
fml y do i like hm.
Zayn texts back:
jst lucky liek that. itll get better.
Sure it will, Liam thinks. Of course.
One night, they get drunk. It’s just some wine Liam sneaks out of his parents’ liquor cabinet, and it’s pretty awful wine at that, but they hide in his room and take turns passing it back and forth. It’s Christmas Eve, and Louis has shown no signs of returning home.
Louis takes a swig and tips his head back onto the edge of Liam’s bed. They’re curled up on the floor, sitting across from each other. Liam’s got his back against the wall, and his cheeks feel a little warm and his mouth is buzzing a little. He’s smiling slightly, but Louis is almost frowning, this thoughtful, strange turn to his mouth.
“Vas happening?” Liam ventures, trying to make him smile just a little bit, and it works, but then Louis steals the bottle back and drinks again. “Louis, c’mon, what’s up?”
Louis doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Liam blinks and watches him sway a little bit. The bottle is more than half gone by now.
“I know, you know.” Liam doesn’t, but he has a moment of pure terror that cuts through his alcoholic haze and leaving him reeling and sober, and thinks fucking fuck HE KNOWS but then Louis continues, “I mean, I’m not really even a band member. The only thing that keeps me around are my stupid pranks and shit.”
Liam’s relief is so great that the adrenaline rush speeds up his blood and he flops backward, and he must make a weird face because Louis flushes and says quickly, “No, nevermind.”
Liam struggles to stop looking so pleased that he’s not been accidentally outing himself and focuses on Louis’ words instead. “What are you talking about, not really a member.”
Louis smiles, but it’s not real. “My own mum said that I’m not the greatest vocals, okay, I know it’s true. I just feel sometimes that I don’t belong with you guys.”
“You can’t really think that,” Liam protests, “I mean, Harry and Niall and Zayn like you plenty, and of course our fans love you, and not just because you’re funny or anything like that.” He takes the bottle back but doesn’t drink from it, trying to convey how serious he is about this.
“But you don’t, right?” Louis asks, and Liam swallows hard.
“I--”
“I know, you know,” Louis says, leaning forward. “That you don’t really like me. It’s fine, it really is. I’m happy you put up with me this week, though. I couldn’t stay at home anymore, it was bothering me that such a big deal was being made over something so small, and I wanted to get away from that. To see one person who didn’t make a big deal about me.”
Liam wants to die.
“I don’t hate you, Louis,” he says, feeling tongue-tied. The bottle feels strange and cool in his hand and he absently drinks again, while Louis leans against the bed and watches him with eyes that are startlingly serious. “And I do -- I do make a big deal of you, all the time I--”
Louis smiles. Liam feels himself trail off. “I like you well enough for the both of us,” Louis tells him. He levers himself up and leans in close, so close that Liam has to cross his eyes to see him well. Louis smells of peppermints and wine.
Liam presses against the wall and for a startlingly bright moment, cannot think. And then Louis is kissing him, hard and fast and pressing him more firmly against the wall, and Liam is pulling him closer, and the wall hurts his shoulders but Liam doesn’t even feel it -- Louis tastes like he smells, and also of bubblegum somehow, and Liam cannot get enough of it. He digs his fingers into Louis’ shoulders and Louis makes this small, pleased sound, and Liam does it again and then runs his hands down over Louis’ side.
They end up sliding to the ground and making out all over Louis’ stupid pokemon sleeping bag. The last thing Liam remembers is Louis’ hand, sneaking firmly over his hip, and Louis murmuring something he can’t make out.
“Fuckity fuck,” Liam curses. The lights are bright and the room is empty when he opens his eyes. His head is pounding and the wine bottle is gone, although there’s a smell like perhaps it got spilled when he and Louis were--
Oh god.
Liam blanches, which is a horrible feeling when you’re already hungover, and he practically falls over himself trying to get to the toilet in time. He vomits and then rests his face on the lid, trying not to cry.
He made out with Louis. More than that, it was like heavy petting or something, and Liam cannot even comprehend how that happened. He vaguely recalls Louis talking about not belonging with them, which was utter crap, and then kissing and kissing and kissing--
Where is Louis now, Liam thinks dizzily. He has to figure out what is going on.
He manages to pull his head out of the toilet and tries to make himself presentable enough that his mum won’t give him stern looks over breakfast. He looks around the room again -- Louis’ things are missing.
His stomach starts to sink and it doesn’t get any better when he gets downstairs and finds his mum pouring his father coffee, but no Louis.
“Mum--”
The look she sends him says everything. Liam’s father gives him a pitying look over his paper, and Liam struggles not to just drop to the floor and freak out. He can practically see the headlines that out him and simultaneously break up the band already. He can picture Simon’s face as he tells Liam to forget the record deal. He sees Niall and Harry and Zayn giving him looks like what-the-hell-were-you-thinking-you-ruined-our-lives.
(Louis, fuck, Louis, what happened and why did it happen and why didn’t Liam keep his shit together.)
He’s interrupted in this mental war between breakdown and keeping it together by a text.
It’s from Niall:
mate what happened?
Liam can picture Niall’s face, concerned and confused all at once. He doesn’t pretend not to understand.
i dont even kno he sends back.
He turns off his phone and goes back to his room, struggling to understand.
This is the worst Christmas ever.
He spends the entire day in his room, ignoring his parents calling him and just laying in bed, trying to forget anything happened. It’s the coward’s way of dealing with things, but Liam’s tired of being responsible, tired of doing things for other people, tired of pretending he knows how to do everything. He curls up on top of the covers and tries not to think.
He lasts perhaps ten minutes before he sits up again and starts pacing, thinking hard about what happened. Louis had kissed him first after all. Did that mean that he liked him as well? Was it because they were drunk? Liam grabs his head in frustration and flops back onto the bed.
Still feeling a little ill, he slowly drags his hand down to his pants pocket; he pulls his phone out and regards it. After some debate, he turns it back on -- immediately he sees he has four messages from Niall, a voicemail from Zayn, and a message from Harry.
Harry: u guys are ridic just fuck alrdy
Niall: why dont you ask
you just need to talk liam
hey
liam come on he likes you too
Zayn’s voice: “Look, I know that we’re unofficially just pretending we don’t know what’s going on between you guys, but you both need to fix this up before we get back together. You just need to go see him, Liam. I know it’s a bit awkward or whatever but seriously, I think you’ll be better for it. Call me, alright?”
Liam waits until it’s almost five o’clock before leaving the room. His parents look up from their places in the living room, blinking at him curiously. There are still presents under the tree and the lights are shining brightly around the branches. Liam takes a deep breath.
“I’m going to Louis’ house. I need to talk to him.”
His mother smiles. “And how do you plan on that?” Liam looks at her questioningly. “The trains aren’t running today and tomorrow. It’s the holidays, Liam.”
Liam -- hadn’t thought of that. His father sighs.
“It’s a bit of a drive, lad. Are you serious about this?” he asks, and Liam can barely keep from bursting out with, “Yes, yes of course.” His dad smiles a bit.
“Alright then. Take the car.”
Liam’s out the door in less than five minutes, a bag slung over his shoulder and the keys gripped in his hands tightly.
The drive does nothing but make him nervous. Several times he thinks about turning around and going home, but the thought of ruining any chances he has of fixing this, whatever it is, keep him going. It’s almost eight when he finally gets to Louis’ house, and he parks the car outside and sits in it, drumming his fingers on the wheel nervously.
Finally, he gets out and shoulders his bag, heading up to the front door. He knocks on it rather than ring the bell, and after a few seconds it opens. It’s -- one of his little sisters.
“You’re Liam,” she notes, looking at him suspiciously.
“Er, yes,” he admits, not sure what Louis has told her about him.
She regards him a moment more and then shouts, “Louis, your boyfriend is here!”
There’s a crash from upstairs and Liam winces. Louis shouts “fuck” and there’s thumping as someone moves around. The sister gives Liam a half-smirk, half-stare.
“Our parents are at a Christmas party, just so you’re aware. I’ll get the others to leave you alone for about ten minutes, which is more than enough time for you two to kiss and make up, right?”
Liam has nothing to say. She nods her head and shouts some more, and there’s giggling and dear god, this is mortifying.
After a moment, Louis comes downstairs, rubbing the back of his head and looking incredibly uncomfortable. There’s a flush riding high on his cheeks but he’s resolutely looking at Liam, so that’s something.
“Hullo,” he says, coming to a stop in front of Liam.
“Hi,” Liam replies. “So, um, you left a bit abruptly this morning.”
“Oh, well, you know, Christmas Day and all.” He gestures around the living area, where there’s wrapping paper and ribbons and boxes strewn everywhere. “Thought I should let you be with family and such.”
They’re being rubbish at this, Liam thinks. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists and says, “Why did you leave after we kissed?”
Louis bites his lip and looks away. “Look, mate, we were drunk and it was just -- it was a mistake, it’s fine, I don’t want it coming between us or anything.”
“It was a mistake?” Liam repeats. Louis looks miserable and nods. Liam’s insides shrivel up and he cannot believe he drove this far to have his heart broken instead of only stepped on a little. Fuck Niall. “But you said--”
“Forget what I said,” Louis says, almost desperately. “I didn’t mean to and it won’t happen again, so just forget it, and we’ll just pretend the whole week didn’t happen.”
“But I loved this week,” Liam blurts. “I love you, you fucker, I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
Louis freezes and Liam actually steps back in shock because he was not planning on dropping that piece of information even if Louis actually liked him back, but he said it and he meant it as well, so he stares firmly at Louis and tries not to let his panic show.
“Really?” Louis asks, almost too quietly to hear properly. Liam nods his head, well aware that he’s red.
“So, you know,” Liam starts hesitantly, “just in case you also want to tell me you also like me, that would be--”
Louis leans in and kisses him again, but this time he tastes like cocoa and mint, and he’s warm and cold all at once from the cold night at Liam’s back, and he fists his hands in Liam’s hair and Liam fairly melts against him. Louis’ hair smells of oranges (of his pillows, and Liam cannot believe he didn’t figure that out sooner.)
He’s faintly aware of Louis’ siblings making whooping sounds from the kitchen, but he blocks it out. This is his second kiss with Louis Tomlinson, and it’s all that really matters at the moment.
(“Why do my pillows smell of your shampoo, Louis?” Liam asks a while later, curled up on the couch sipping eggnog -- non-alcoholic, unfortunately. Louis smiles mischeivously.
“You’re a pretty heavy sleeper, d’you know?” He glances sidelong at him and dips his head a little, trying for cute. It works, sadly.
“Did you molest me in my sleep?” Liam asks, trying to sound stern. Louis licks his nose in response and they dissolve into kissing again. Liam never gets an answer.)
Niall gives them both great hugs the next time they all meet, in Scotland (they had to put Liam and Louis into separate cars in the end, because Zayn and Harry were complaining too much about their snogging.) Harry and Louis are doing their strange groping/hugging thing and making far too much noise, and Zayn claps Liam on the back and gives him a grin.
“Glad that’s over,” he says, rolling his eyes, and Louis pulls away from Harry long enough to shout, “Far from it, mate!”
And he blows a kiss to Liam, who, although he feels foolish, reaches up and catches it. It makes Louis smile so brightly it must hurt, and Liam knows he can’t match it, but he gives it his best, because he feels like the sun is inside of him and somehow that, no matter what happens, this is the happiest he’s ever been.
hey boy, i really wanna be with you
cause you’re just my type
liam/louis (4542 words)
OMG this is the craziet thing. I'm a little bit late because I got distracted by tirimasu ice cream and bad Mary-Kate and Ashley movies, but IT'S HERE NOW. A SYMBOL OF THE NEW YEAR. MY YEAR OF INSANITY. This is, obviously, for 1datemylife, but especially for Ace, who's been encouraging this and sending me the best pictures/gifs/stories ever. YOU ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE, PRESIDENT.
This is also ridiculous. THIS IS SO RIDICULOUS. HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES, I'M RIGHTING ABOUT UNDERAGE TEENS.
eta: omg i should also add that i've been drinking chapagne for a while now, so OOPS sorry typos. not druink i swear.
Liam is sitting on the couch watching the news because he’s too comfortable to get up and find the remote to change the channel. There’s political crap and international crises and, embarrassingly enough, a small entertainment section that recaps X Factor. It must be a really slow day, Liam thinks lazily, stretching out a bit and curling more securely around his pillow.
The doorbell rings.
Liam seriously considers not answering it. His body protests the idea, but his mum isn’t home right now and what if it’s something important? His body and moral code war with each other for a brief moment, and the bell rings again, almost curious sounding, like hello?
He pushes himself up, giving the couch a look, before walking to the front door. He contemplates looking through the peephole but there’s a huge wreath hanging on the door as part of his mum’s Christmas decorations and it’s not worth the trouble, and just as he’s swinging the door open, Louis presses the ringer again.
“Oh. Hey!” Louis’ smile is bright and cheerful, despite the overcast skies, and Liam thinks for a moment that he’s actually imagining this moment. It doesn’t compute in his mind, that Louis could be standing on his doorstep with a duffle bag and a grin that stretches wide and happy.
“Hi?” Liam finally remembers to say, although it’s kind of hesitant and confused, and Louis’ smile dims a little. “I mean, um, what’s -- what’s going on here?” Liam frantically tries to remember if he’d invited Louis over without realizing, or if Louis had (more likely) told Liam he was coming over, or even if Louis had tweeted anything about it (not that Liam gets Louis’ tweets to his phone, or anything like that).
“I was just thinking, you know, that I should come see you.” Louis is trying and failing miserably to look innocent as he edges his way into the house; Liam automatically steps back to let him in. “Because you had to be missing me, seeing as I am the best thing that has ever happened to you and the world in general.”
He lets his bag slide down to the floor and surveys the room, looking at the television, which has switched over to some strange reality court case show; the judge brandishes her gavel and looks supremely bored, and Louis’ lip curves a little. Liam crushes the urge to explain that he wasn’t this boring normally, he really wasn’t, but he kind of was.
“So...” Liam cannot believe how idiotic he sounds right now. He’s always been a little awkward around Louis, for reasons that shall not be named, but this is ridiculous. He forces himself to regroup and then says, “You’ve come to visit me?”
Louis throws himself onto the couch and beams up at Liam. “I called your mum and she said it was fine with her. I brought my sleeping bag, this is going to be so awesome.” He picks up the remote and presses random numbers to see what pops up.
Part of Liam’s mind is cursing his mother (she knows how he feels about Louis, dammit, but she also adores him because he’s a charming little freak who can be immature enough to put salt in his hat and put it on his head, but still sweet enough to remember to call on her birthday) and the other part is wondering why Louis came to Liam’s house.
He immediately feels bitchy for thinking that. It’s not a great feeling, but it’s one that he often associates with Louis. Because, as evident by the internet at large, which Liam does not spend any time on at all, Louis and he aren’t the closest band members. Louis and Harry are practically inseparable when together and Zayn has always been the easiest to relate to for Liam.
Liam’s completely aware that his own inability to spend time with Louis is due to some unfortunate feelings he might have, but Louis clearly just likes him as a regular sort of friend, and nothing quite as deep as would be necessary for an impromptu slumber party.
But. Liam isn’t going to suggest that he go somewhere because not only is that so incredibly rude that his mum would probably kill him, but he’s a little pleased that Louis chose to come here. Unless he wasn’t able to stay at any of the other guys’ houses and Liam is a last choice. The thought of that is so unspeakably depressing that Liam can’t bring himself to ask, so he says, “Uh, alright. So, um, have you seen the other guys recently?” Oh, very nice, Liam. Incredibly subtle.
“Hmmm,” Louis hums, intent on the television, “nah. Texted Harry earlier and tweeted at Niall about three days ago. He was doing a video without a microphone, that twat.” He laughs a little bit.
Liam’s smiling before he can help it. He sits down to cover it up and says, “Sounds like Niall.” He suddenly fiercely misses the rest of them. It’s been a dull ache, being separated after so long all together in such close quarters, but with Louis sitting in front of him, enraptured by a rerun of Next Top Model, he realizes that he wishes they were here.
At the very least, he wishes Zayn were here, so he could at least have someone to talk to. Harry would give him leers and gesture obscenely at Louis where he couldn’t see and Niall would give him deeply obvious looks whenever Louis did anything remotely flirty, which was practically all the time, given Louis’ personality. And yet, he still wishes they were here.
“So, uh,” Liam ventures after a few moments of Tyra making truly horrible faces as examples to the models, “how long are you here?”
Louis is quiet for a moment, staring intently at a model contorting her body around a miniature city while a photographer barks at her to look like a thunderstorm. “Not sure,” he says finally. The silence should be awkward, like it usually is, but there’s a question there and Liam can answer it.
“Okay,” he says, and settles back onto the couch, curling around the pillow and trying not to freak out when Louis settles against him.
His mother, of course, is all giggles and smiles when she gets back from shopping, and Louis is introduced to Liam’s room and they have an almost normal dinner. Louis does do something weird and funny with his glass of water and a fork, but it’s not as strange as some of the things he’s done before and his mother almost dies laughing.
After dinner they watch television some more, and Louis prank calls Niall and Harry, but Zayn doesn’t pick up. (He later sends a tweet that says “so original, louis” and a thousand girls send hearts and smiles at Louis. He laughs brightly, reading all of them and grinning to himself.)
“I prank called you once, you know,” he tells Liam, who stops playing solitaire on his phone to look up in surprise.
“Really?” It’s actually something that Liam was doing his best not to obsess over, the fact that Louis hadn’t tried to do it to him yet. “Wait -- wait, were you that guy who called about the refrigerator running?”
Louis’ cheeks go pink. “I might’ve panicked a little.”
“I honestly thought that was a nine year old just learning that you could call people you didn’t know and bug them,” Liam tells him, laughing a little. Louis pouts a bit but nudges him good-naturedly with his shoulder and goes back to his tweets.
Hmm. Liam contemplates the floor where Louis’ sleeping bag is spread out. It’s bright yellow and has little pikachus all over it, which is really only to be expected. Louis is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and humming to himself -- it’s Only Girl In the World, which isn’t cute at all.
Liam runs his tongue over his teeth and looks at his bed. This is sort of weird. He kind of feels like he should offer his bed to Louis, but he does not want to sleep on the floor or in that sleeping bag. Plus, he doesn’t know how long Louis is going to be staying -- what if it’s days of sleeping on the ground? Liam decides to shuffle over to his bookshelf and look at the books there like he’s being thoughtful and intelligent, or something.
“I’m knackered,” Louis announces, stretching and wandering into the room. His shirt rises up over the hem of his boxer shorts and Liam quickly goes back to reading the back of a thesaurus. “All the excitement must’ve gotten to me, eh?” he grins, and Liam smiles back at him helplessly.
Why are you here, he thinks again, and waits for Louis to crawl into his bag and shuffle around a few minutes before declaring himself “comfortable, thanks” and shutting off the light. His bed is absurdly cold and he shivers for a few minutes before relaxing against the sheets.
I can hear him breathing, Liam thinks. Correction: snoring. Louis turns over in his bag and the sound lessens, and Liam closes his eyes and falls into a fretful sleep.
He wakes up in the morning and turns over into the bed to smash his face into his pillow just because it’s morning. It smells strange, like a shampoo his relative might wear. He breathes deeply and smiles.
Louis is in the bathroom again, whistling the song from Snow White and making way too much noise. Liam stretches and gets up.
The next few days are actually incredibly awesome. Liam is sure that things are going to be weird, but Louis is oddly calm and prone to falling into silences, and so Liam is obligated to cheer him up -- it takes away from the awkwardness that comes of Louis acting like an attention whore and Liam not sure how to react to it.
They go shopping, even though it’s like a week from Christmas and there are insane people fluttering around stores screeching at their children and fighting with their spouses. They watch people doing their late shopping and Louis gives them voices.
“No, dear, I do not want this stupid fucking toaster for my mum, I want that stupid fucking toaster -- your mum doesn’t even eat toast! -- not the point, dear, now get me an espresso, we have to get to the Gap in a bit, your dad could use some weekday underwear.” Liam laughs and Louis gives him this look out of the corner of his eye, ducking his head and smiling just a little bit.
They buy bags of skittles and wander around eating them and window shopping. Louis seems to want to look at everything, and they go into stores regardless of what they’re selling -- once they wander into a maternity store and look through the clothing for about ten minutes before a hugely pregnant woman wanders by and asks them if they’re shopping for their mum. Louis cracks up and Liam flushes and drags him out.
Five days pass and nothing big happens.
Harry texts Liam:
Louis w/ u?
y
dont knck him up, k
...
;)
Liam keeps waking up every morning and the smell is still on his pillows. He wakes up and rolls over and it smells like oranges, like something citrusy and ripe on his pillowcases. His own shampoo is sort of pine-y, so he knows it’s not him. He glances at the floor, but Louis curled up in his yellow sleeping bag, eyelashes fluttering and mouth pink.
Liam buries his face in his pillow and groans.
The thing about spending so much time with Louis is that he’s in this horrible halfway point between thrilled and awkward. Liam’s always been that way around Louis, but the extended exposure means he’s having to get over the awkwardness, and now they’re in this unexplored place of friendship that Liam isn’t sure he can handle.
He just -- there isn’t any reason he should like Louis, there really isn’t, but the more time he spends with him, the more he likes him. He likes his silly smile, and his blue eyes, and his laugh and his obnoxious jokes and the way he reads all of his fans’ letters and the way he touches Liam’s elbow sometimes, like he wants to wrap his hand around his arm but doesn’t quite know how to go about doing it. Liam’s actually pretty sure he’s starting to more than like Louis, but there’s really not a lot of reason to get into that, is there.
Louis laughs across the room, talking to Harry on the phone.
Liam texts Zayn:
fml y do i like hm.
Zayn texts back:
jst lucky liek that. itll get better.
Sure it will, Liam thinks. Of course.
One night, they get drunk. It’s just some wine Liam sneaks out of his parents’ liquor cabinet, and it’s pretty awful wine at that, but they hide in his room and take turns passing it back and forth. It’s Christmas Eve, and Louis has shown no signs of returning home.
Louis takes a swig and tips his head back onto the edge of Liam’s bed. They’re curled up on the floor, sitting across from each other. Liam’s got his back against the wall, and his cheeks feel a little warm and his mouth is buzzing a little. He’s smiling slightly, but Louis is almost frowning, this thoughtful, strange turn to his mouth.
“Vas happening?” Liam ventures, trying to make him smile just a little bit, and it works, but then Louis steals the bottle back and drinks again. “Louis, c’mon, what’s up?”
Louis doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Liam blinks and watches him sway a little bit. The bottle is more than half gone by now.
“I know, you know.” Liam doesn’t, but he has a moment of pure terror that cuts through his alcoholic haze and leaving him reeling and sober, and thinks fucking fuck HE KNOWS but then Louis continues, “I mean, I’m not really even a band member. The only thing that keeps me around are my stupid pranks and shit.”
Liam’s relief is so great that the adrenaline rush speeds up his blood and he flops backward, and he must make a weird face because Louis flushes and says quickly, “No, nevermind.”
Liam struggles to stop looking so pleased that he’s not been accidentally outing himself and focuses on Louis’ words instead. “What are you talking about, not really a member.”
Louis smiles, but it’s not real. “My own mum said that I’m not the greatest vocals, okay, I know it’s true. I just feel sometimes that I don’t belong with you guys.”
“You can’t really think that,” Liam protests, “I mean, Harry and Niall and Zayn like you plenty, and of course our fans love you, and not just because you’re funny or anything like that.” He takes the bottle back but doesn’t drink from it, trying to convey how serious he is about this.
“But you don’t, right?” Louis asks, and Liam swallows hard.
“I--”
“I know, you know,” Louis says, leaning forward. “That you don’t really like me. It’s fine, it really is. I’m happy you put up with me this week, though. I couldn’t stay at home anymore, it was bothering me that such a big deal was being made over something so small, and I wanted to get away from that. To see one person who didn’t make a big deal about me.”
Liam wants to die.
“I don’t hate you, Louis,” he says, feeling tongue-tied. The bottle feels strange and cool in his hand and he absently drinks again, while Louis leans against the bed and watches him with eyes that are startlingly serious. “And I do -- I do make a big deal of you, all the time I--”
Louis smiles. Liam feels himself trail off. “I like you well enough for the both of us,” Louis tells him. He levers himself up and leans in close, so close that Liam has to cross his eyes to see him well. Louis smells of peppermints and wine.
Liam presses against the wall and for a startlingly bright moment, cannot think. And then Louis is kissing him, hard and fast and pressing him more firmly against the wall, and Liam is pulling him closer, and the wall hurts his shoulders but Liam doesn’t even feel it -- Louis tastes like he smells, and also of bubblegum somehow, and Liam cannot get enough of it. He digs his fingers into Louis’ shoulders and Louis makes this small, pleased sound, and Liam does it again and then runs his hands down over Louis’ side.
They end up sliding to the ground and making out all over Louis’ stupid pokemon sleeping bag. The last thing Liam remembers is Louis’ hand, sneaking firmly over his hip, and Louis murmuring something he can’t make out.
“Fuckity fuck,” Liam curses. The lights are bright and the room is empty when he opens his eyes. His head is pounding and the wine bottle is gone, although there’s a smell like perhaps it got spilled when he and Louis were--
Oh god.
Liam blanches, which is a horrible feeling when you’re already hungover, and he practically falls over himself trying to get to the toilet in time. He vomits and then rests his face on the lid, trying not to cry.
He made out with Louis. More than that, it was like heavy petting or something, and Liam cannot even comprehend how that happened. He vaguely recalls Louis talking about not belonging with them, which was utter crap, and then kissing and kissing and kissing--
Where is Louis now, Liam thinks dizzily. He has to figure out what is going on.
He manages to pull his head out of the toilet and tries to make himself presentable enough that his mum won’t give him stern looks over breakfast. He looks around the room again -- Louis’ things are missing.
His stomach starts to sink and it doesn’t get any better when he gets downstairs and finds his mum pouring his father coffee, but no Louis.
“Mum--”
The look she sends him says everything. Liam’s father gives him a pitying look over his paper, and Liam struggles not to just drop to the floor and freak out. He can practically see the headlines that out him and simultaneously break up the band already. He can picture Simon’s face as he tells Liam to forget the record deal. He sees Niall and Harry and Zayn giving him looks like what-the-hell-were-you-thinking-you-ruined-our-lives.
(Louis, fuck, Louis, what happened and why did it happen and why didn’t Liam keep his shit together.)
He’s interrupted in this mental war between breakdown and keeping it together by a text.
It’s from Niall:
mate what happened?
Liam can picture Niall’s face, concerned and confused all at once. He doesn’t pretend not to understand.
i dont even kno he sends back.
He turns off his phone and goes back to his room, struggling to understand.
This is the worst Christmas ever.
He spends the entire day in his room, ignoring his parents calling him and just laying in bed, trying to forget anything happened. It’s the coward’s way of dealing with things, but Liam’s tired of being responsible, tired of doing things for other people, tired of pretending he knows how to do everything. He curls up on top of the covers and tries not to think.
He lasts perhaps ten minutes before he sits up again and starts pacing, thinking hard about what happened. Louis had kissed him first after all. Did that mean that he liked him as well? Was it because they were drunk? Liam grabs his head in frustration and flops back onto the bed.
Still feeling a little ill, he slowly drags his hand down to his pants pocket; he pulls his phone out and regards it. After some debate, he turns it back on -- immediately he sees he has four messages from Niall, a voicemail from Zayn, and a message from Harry.
Harry: u guys are ridic just fuck alrdy
Niall: why dont you ask
you just need to talk liam
hey
liam come on he likes you too
Zayn’s voice: “Look, I know that we’re unofficially just pretending we don’t know what’s going on between you guys, but you both need to fix this up before we get back together. You just need to go see him, Liam. I know it’s a bit awkward or whatever but seriously, I think you’ll be better for it. Call me, alright?”
Liam waits until it’s almost five o’clock before leaving the room. His parents look up from their places in the living room, blinking at him curiously. There are still presents under the tree and the lights are shining brightly around the branches. Liam takes a deep breath.
“I’m going to Louis’ house. I need to talk to him.”
His mother smiles. “And how do you plan on that?” Liam looks at her questioningly. “The trains aren’t running today and tomorrow. It’s the holidays, Liam.”
Liam -- hadn’t thought of that. His father sighs.
“It’s a bit of a drive, lad. Are you serious about this?” he asks, and Liam can barely keep from bursting out with, “Yes, yes of course.” His dad smiles a bit.
“Alright then. Take the car.”
Liam’s out the door in less than five minutes, a bag slung over his shoulder and the keys gripped in his hands tightly.
The drive does nothing but make him nervous. Several times he thinks about turning around and going home, but the thought of ruining any chances he has of fixing this, whatever it is, keep him going. It’s almost eight when he finally gets to Louis’ house, and he parks the car outside and sits in it, drumming his fingers on the wheel nervously.
Finally, he gets out and shoulders his bag, heading up to the front door. He knocks on it rather than ring the bell, and after a few seconds it opens. It’s -- one of his little sisters.
“You’re Liam,” she notes, looking at him suspiciously.
“Er, yes,” he admits, not sure what Louis has told her about him.
She regards him a moment more and then shouts, “Louis, your boyfriend is here!”
There’s a crash from upstairs and Liam winces. Louis shouts “fuck” and there’s thumping as someone moves around. The sister gives Liam a half-smirk, half-stare.
“Our parents are at a Christmas party, just so you’re aware. I’ll get the others to leave you alone for about ten minutes, which is more than enough time for you two to kiss and make up, right?”
Liam has nothing to say. She nods her head and shouts some more, and there’s giggling and dear god, this is mortifying.
After a moment, Louis comes downstairs, rubbing the back of his head and looking incredibly uncomfortable. There’s a flush riding high on his cheeks but he’s resolutely looking at Liam, so that’s something.
“Hullo,” he says, coming to a stop in front of Liam.
“Hi,” Liam replies. “So, um, you left a bit abruptly this morning.”
“Oh, well, you know, Christmas Day and all.” He gestures around the living area, where there’s wrapping paper and ribbons and boxes strewn everywhere. “Thought I should let you be with family and such.”
They’re being rubbish at this, Liam thinks. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists and says, “Why did you leave after we kissed?”
Louis bites his lip and looks away. “Look, mate, we were drunk and it was just -- it was a mistake, it’s fine, I don’t want it coming between us or anything.”
“It was a mistake?” Liam repeats. Louis looks miserable and nods. Liam’s insides shrivel up and he cannot believe he drove this far to have his heart broken instead of only stepped on a little. Fuck Niall. “But you said--”
“Forget what I said,” Louis says, almost desperately. “I didn’t mean to and it won’t happen again, so just forget it, and we’ll just pretend the whole week didn’t happen.”
“But I loved this week,” Liam blurts. “I love you, you fucker, I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
Louis freezes and Liam actually steps back in shock because he was not planning on dropping that piece of information even if Louis actually liked him back, but he said it and he meant it as well, so he stares firmly at Louis and tries not to let his panic show.
“Really?” Louis asks, almost too quietly to hear properly. Liam nods his head, well aware that he’s red.
“So, you know,” Liam starts hesitantly, “just in case you also want to tell me you also like me, that would be--”
Louis leans in and kisses him again, but this time he tastes like cocoa and mint, and he’s warm and cold all at once from the cold night at Liam’s back, and he fists his hands in Liam’s hair and Liam fairly melts against him. Louis’ hair smells of oranges (of his pillows, and Liam cannot believe he didn’t figure that out sooner.)
He’s faintly aware of Louis’ siblings making whooping sounds from the kitchen, but he blocks it out. This is his second kiss with Louis Tomlinson, and it’s all that really matters at the moment.
(“Why do my pillows smell of your shampoo, Louis?” Liam asks a while later, curled up on the couch sipping eggnog -- non-alcoholic, unfortunately. Louis smiles mischeivously.
“You’re a pretty heavy sleeper, d’you know?” He glances sidelong at him and dips his head a little, trying for cute. It works, sadly.
“Did you molest me in my sleep?” Liam asks, trying to sound stern. Louis licks his nose in response and they dissolve into kissing again. Liam never gets an answer.)
Niall gives them both great hugs the next time they all meet, in Scotland (they had to put Liam and Louis into separate cars in the end, because Zayn and Harry were complaining too much about their snogging.) Harry and Louis are doing their strange groping/hugging thing and making far too much noise, and Zayn claps Liam on the back and gives him a grin.
“Glad that’s over,” he says, rolling his eyes, and Louis pulls away from Harry long enough to shout, “Far from it, mate!”
And he blows a kiss to Liam, who, although he feels foolish, reaches up and catches it. It makes Louis smile so brightly it must hurt, and Liam knows he can’t match it, but he gives it his best, because he feels like the sun is inside of him and somehow that, no matter what happens, this is the happiest he’s ever been.