your translation's just a little off (lt/ng)
title: your translation's just a little off.
pairing: nick grimshaw/louis tomlinson (sorry)
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
word count: ~9,500
summary: AU. so louis kind of doesn't like nick. like at all. really. he swears.
notes: okay OKAY DON'T YELL AT ME I'M REALLY SORRY, this is the one and only time this will happen, I'M JUST SO INTERESTED IN THEIR DYNAMIC okay omg i'm sorry. i'll write so much harry/louis that you'll want to throw me off a CLIFF, okay, cool. anyway. a lot of people are responsible for this, not just me, so! based on a prompt idea by carla, shamelessly encouraged by my girls flimsy and miss_mady, and read over by sadie. thanks so much, ladiez.
going off that, i guess i have tumblr now. that's a very louis-positive space, enter with care.
sorry again.
It's one of those nights where everything manages to come together perfectly. Harry's on his last encore just as Louis issues last call, there are no drunken arseholes propositioning him (or threatening him, or threateningly propositioning him), Nick's not too drunk to stand, Liam is manning the door and directing the taxies, Zayn's calmly chainsmoking out back, and Niall's ready at the wings of the stage to haul equipment.
It's refreshing, Louis thinks, because usually Harry's swayed by adoration into six or seven encores and Louis has to deal with disgruntled arseholes who want more drinks because the music's still going and Nick's a complete mess at the soundboard and egging Harry on and Liam sometimes gets distracted by Zayn and Niall's too busy socialising to actually cut Harry off and in that hour span of disasters, Louis manages to receive an upwards of twenty comments on his arse, spanning the spectrum of complimentary to fucking illegal.
But tonight it seems like they might actually have the club emptied by three in the morning and that might be a goddamn record.
Nick's looking over at Louis, now, arching an eyebrow, and Louis nods to him. Nick jerks his head at Harry and Harry throws him a wink and drawls into the mic, "Thanks so much, everyone, I've had a brilliant time up here, as always, and you were fantastic. I'm Harry Styles and behind me on keyboards is Aiden Grimshaw, with Matt Cardle on guitars, and Greg James on drums. We're Upset Victory. Thanks for listening."
And everyone's yelling as they set their instruments down and Louis raises his eyes to the sky, mouthing a quick prayer that Niall will unplug the amps immediately and he does and everything's just coming up aces.
Louis is so, so, so, tired.
It takes about an hour to clear everyone out and it's okay, it's fine, because no one's belligerent, and there are only three blokes who grab his arse as he rounds the bar and Zayn comes back in to help and.
Yes. Three o'clock on the dot, the place is empty, but for their rag-tag little group. Harry comes to the bar and slumps down, resting his cheeks on his fists.
"Lou," Harry moans, voice rasping dangerously. "Whisky."
Louis grins. "Haz, by the sound of it, you'd do better with some tea."
Harry looks at him murderously. "Whisky."
Louis shrugs and turns around to grab a glass, just as Nick, Zayn, Liam, and Niall sit down.
"Where'd the band disappear to, then?" Nick asks, glancing around the empty room that looks so much smaller and grottier when there aren't two hundred sweaty patrons pressed together.
Harry snorts. "Aiden and Matt had some stuff to do, apparently, and Greg copped off with some bloke in the crowd, I don't know. He was short."
"Oi," Louis interjects mildly.
Harry smiles at him and Nick smirks. "No offense, love," Harry says.
Louis rolls his eyes and sets the whisky in front of Harry, sweeping his eyes over the rest of them. "Anyone else going to exploit me after my shift? Tell me now before I sit down and die."
Liam looks at him sympathetically, before glancing at Zayn.
Zayn purses his lips to hide the stupid smile Louis knows he wants to let out. "Actually, I think I'm gonna head home. Uh, Li, do you want a ride?"
Liam smiles down at his hands. "If you're headed in my direction."
"That could be arranged," Zayn replies, quirking an eyebrow.
Louis widens his eyes at Harry, blinking exaggeratedly. Harry giggles.
"Oh, just go, you two," Nick snaps. "We get it. You're getting laid. Rub it in more, thanks."
Liam blushes spectacularly and Zayn just smirks. "Fine. We're out," Zayn says, grabbing Liam's arm and they stumble out the back entrance, hips knocking together.
"Fuck them," Louis mutters under his breath.
"Aw," Nick coos. "Did the poor little pretty boy not find anyone good enough?"
Louis clenches his jaw.
The thing is, Nick is the anomaly of their weird little clique. He's thirty - seven years older than Louis, ten years older than Harry, and nine years older than Liam, Zayn, and Niall. And it's weird - well, at least, Louis thinks it's weird - that he hangs out with them once the shifts are over. Because it's not like Nick doesn't have other friends. Nick is a professional shmoozer, a professional networker. He's a socialiser in the exact way Louis is not.
So, it doesn't make sense to Louis, because if he were Nick, he wouldn't be hanging out with a group of boys that were essentially kids compared to him. He'd need some extra motivation there. And that's why Louis is worried, because he has a vague idea what Nick's motivation might be and it makes his stomach clench involuntarily.
And it's dumb, because Harry can do whatever he wants. Harry can fuck whomever he pleases and Harry is his own person and Louis has absolutely no claim over him and it's just. Dumb. Louis is being dumb. But Harry's also so young and trusting and blindly unaware to the cynicism of thirty year old men and Louis just.
Louis just worries, because if Harry sleeps with Nick, if Harry falls in love with Nick, and Nick hurts him, Louis will probably have to go to jail for murder.
And, like, Louis wouldn't do well in jail. Louis can barely make it through a shift at the club unscathed.
The point is, Louis is wary of Nick and Nick seems vaguely unimpressed by Louis as a whole anyway so they orbit each other carefully, stuck in a cold war. A tentative detante.
Louis blinks, and everyone's staring at him, because apparently he just spaced the fuck out, staring at Nick, and grinding his jaw together.
"Oh," he says, dumbly. "No, actually. I prefer not to sleep with blokes that think it's acceptable to drunkenly grope their bartenders, shockingly enough."
Niall snorts. "Sounds fair enough. Can I get a pint off you, mate?"
Louis nods and starts pulling it, focusing intently on the glass because he can feel Nick's eyes on him and whenever Nick starts looking too closely, Louis' skin feels tight and.
There's just something about Nick that puts Louis on edge.
He slides the pint over to Niall and arches an eyebrow back at Nick. "And anything for you, highness?"
Nick considers him for a moment. "Would a G and T be out of the question?"
Louis shrugs, pulling down two glasses, rapidly mixing the two drinks. He hands one off to Nick and says, "Budge over," to Harry, squeezing his way in between the two of them.
He gives Nick a vaguely triumphant look, but Nick isn't looking at him anymore. He's turned, talking to Niall rapidly about carpooling to Rita's party next Thursday.
Harry says quietly, "Everything alright, mate?"
Louis could probably make some pretty embarrassing sex noises about how good it feels to sit down, to rest his feet, to relax on this uncomfortable bar stool, but he just shrugs and says, "Always," with a small smile, just for Harry.
Harry just looks at him skeptically. "Really?" he says, dropping the volume of his voice even more.
Louis leans over and rests his head on Harry's shoulder. "I'm so tired," he breathes.
"Yeah," Harry says into his hair, voice soft. "Yeah, I know. Shall we go home?"
Louis closes his eyes for a moment, then straightens up, shaking himself, glueing on a bright smile. "No. No, I'm fine. Whatever you want to do."
Nick looks back at them, then. He eyes Louis. "You look knackered, mate."
Louis shrugs, taking a long pull of his drink. "Really?" he says. "I feel fine."
Harry says, "Come on, Lou. Let's go home. I need some sleep."
"Okay," Louis says. "If you're sure."
"Lou," Harry says.
Nick's still watching them. "I'll drive you home," he offers.
"That'd be-" Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.
"I've got it, thanks," Louis says, smiling tightly. He waves his half-full glass. "First one of the night."
Nick glances from the glass to Louis' face. "You look dead on your feet, love," he says. "I'll drive you guys home."
Harry grips Louis' shoulder as Louis opens his mouth to refuse again. "That'd be great, Nick, thanks," he says pointedly, fingers digging into Louis' collarbones.
Louis clenches his jaw.
*
Harry invites Nick inside when they pull up to their flat, because of course he does.
"Beer?" he offers.
Nick glances at Louis, who's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, fidgeting. He wants to go to bed but he doesn't want to leave Harry alone with Nick, or Nick alone with Harry, and he hates himself for it, because Harry's an adult and why can't Louis remember that?
"Sure," Nick says.
Louis sighs internally. "Me too, Haz."
Harry looks surprised. "Really? Are you sure you don't want to go to bed?"
Louis forces a smile. "I'm sure."
They file into the living room and Harry takes the opportunity to show Nick the sound system he'd spend an entire weekend hooking up and - Louis notices - completely fails to mention the fact that it was actually Louis who did most of the work.
"This is pretty fuckin' brilliant," Nick says, nodding. "Play something for me."
Harry beams and grabs his iPod. "Let's see. Any suggestions, Lou?"
Louis tilts his head back on the couch, studying them both with half open eyes. "How about some Wagner?" Louis says.
Harry rolls his eyes and Nick just blinks, letting his gaze float over Louis as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.
Louis takes a long, slow pull of his beer. "But anyway, I'm sure Nick would rather hear something nice and sensual, wouldn't you, big guy?"
"Yeah," Nick says, curling his lip. "Yeah, Harold, play me some Boyz II Men."
Harry rolls his eyes again. "You two, I swear to god." He puts on Fleet Foxes and Louis groans, because, like, boring, but Nick grins.
"Did you know, young Harold, that when you were just a wee one, I saw Fleet Foxes at one of the tiny stages at Leeds and they were fucking horrid. Look where they are now! That'll be you in a few years, once you leave the horrid phase."
Harry swats at him. "You evil man!" he gasps.
Nick chuckles, catching his hand before it hits him. "It's tough love, babe. Tough love."
Harry pulls them both onto the couch beside Louis and Nick crashes down, long legs tangling with Harry's, and like.
Yep. That's Louis' cue to leave.
"Well, lads - or, I guess, lad and man - I'm going to turn in, I think," he says, sitting up a little. His head feels like it weighs about sixteen stone.
"No," Harry whines, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. "No, cuddle. Cuddles now."
Louis bites his lip. "Cuddle with Nick," he says, trying oh-so-hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"No," Harry moans. "Nick's not soft like you are."
From beside Harry, Louis hears Nick snort. "I wouldn't stand for that, if I were you, Lou," Nick says.
"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean," Harry says. "Nick's all bony and sharp and you're all soft and warm and cuddly."
Louis scoffs. "You're saying words, but all I'm hearing is fat fat fat fat."
"Aw, come cuddle, Lou," Nick says mockingly. "We don't care that you're fat."
Harry elbows him hard in the stomach, and yeah, Louis thinks. Harry can say what he wants, but he's the only one.
"Thanks," Louis says, all ice, "but I'm going to pass."
He drops his bottle in the sink and trudges towards his room, not getting there in time to miss Nick's whispered, "I was just kidding," and Harry's reply, "Well, don't."
*
Nick's gone when Louis wakes up. Harry's curled up on the couch with a blanket over him. Louis lays down next to him, pressed between Harry and the back of the couch, and wraps his arms around him.
Harry shifts, rolls over. "Hey," he rasps.
Louis smiles. "Hey."
Harry blinks a bit, scrunching his face up. "Oh," he says. "Oh, Lou, Nick was just kidding, you know? Just being a bit cheeky."
"Whatever," Louis says. "I don't care. Did you guys do anything?"
"Nah, he finished his beer and left. I dunno. I think he felt really bad," Harry says, widening his eyes at Louis.
"Oh, stop it with those," Louis says, blowing gently into Harry's face so he has to squeeze his eyes shut. "I don't care. There's just a difference between what you can say and what, like, anyone else can say, you know? Especially people who don't even like me."
"What!" Harry exclaims. "He likes you."
Louis snorts. "Sure."
"I'm sure he does," Harry says confidently. "He hangs out with us, doesn't he?"
"He hangs out with you, Haz," Louis replies, rolling his eyes. "Just... be careful there, yeah?"
Harry's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
Louis sighs. "You know."
Harry blinks a bit and then his mouth drops open. "Oh my god. No, Louis, seriously, come on."
"Whatever," Louis says, shaking his head. "Just be careful." He pulls himself away from Harry then, sliding off the couch and padding into the kitchen. Harry follows closely.
"I promise it's not like that, Lou," Harry pleads.
Louis puts the kettle on and glances back at Harry. "I don't care, mate, seriously. I just don't want you to get hurt!"
Harry brushes past him to get to the fridge, pulling out eggs and peppers and onions and potatoes. Louis grins. He loves Harry's fry-ups.
Harry says, "I'm going to forget this conversation happened, because Nick doesn't fancy me and I don't fancy Nick. Got it?"
Louis just shakes his head and pours two cups of tea, sliding one over to Harry. Harry nods his thanks, keeping his gaze on Louis.
"Is that why you were being weird last night?" Harry asks.
Louis huffs a breath. "I wasn't being weird last night."
"You were, though."
"I was just tired. Make me food, slave."
Harry throws him an unimpressed look and shakes his head. "Nick and I aren't going to fuck."
"Fine, jesus, sorry I mentioned it," Louis snaps. "Let's move on."
Louis' mobile buzzes, then, on the coffee table in the living room. Louis groans and Harry rolls his eyes, but stops chopping vegetables and goes and gets it.
"I love you so much, Harry Styles," Louis calls after him.
Harry comes back wearing an evil smirk. "Yes," is all he says, and tosses Louis the phone.
There's a text open and Louis says, "Your mum really never taught you privacy, did she," as he glances down at it.
It's from Nick.
hey louis i just wanted to say i'm really sorry about last night? i never meant anything, just banter. sorry again x
Louis pulls a face. "You read this?" he asks Harry.
Harry shrugs. "Yeah. Sweet, innit? Told you he likes you."
Louis just wrinkles his nose. "Whatever." He sets his phone down.
"What are you gonna say back?" Harry presses.
"Er," Louis says. "I dunno? Nothing?"
"You can't just say nothing, Lou! Rude."
"Fine." Louis grabs his phone again. "What should I say then, o great all-knowing one?"
Harry looks exasperated. "Just say it's not a big deal!"
its cool mate is what Louis ends up typing. He holds it out to Harry. "Good enough?"
Harry pulls a face. "You could be friendlier. Why aren't you friendlier to him?"
"I'm perfectly friendly!" Louis protests
Harry levels him a look. "You're borderline polite," he says. "At best."
"Fine!" Louis says. "Fine."
its cool mate i was just really tired no worries x
He holds his phone out again. "Better?"
Harry nods, a small smile pulling at his cheeks, and gets back to fixing breakfast.
"You're weird," Louis says, watching him.
"You're crazy," Harry shoots back.
"Yeah," Louis sighs.
Harry slides a plate in front of him, fried up just the way Louis likes, because Harry is fantastic.
Louis sometimes really regrets they never fell in love with each other, because the thought of ever living apart from Harry scares the fuck out of him. The thought of not having Harry read his every mood and his every affectation is genuinely terrifying.
Which, speaking of:
"Are you alright, mate? Like, really?" Harry says, through a mouthful of potato.
"Of course!" Louis says, smiling at him. "What do you mean?"
"You've just..." Harry trails off, motioning wildly with his hands, as that was an acceptable answer. "Seemed off, lately, I guess," he finishes.
Louis smiles kind of wryly. "Just a bit tired, H, really."
"Yeah?" Harry looks at him skeptically. "Well. I mean. If you ever... you know."
"Yeah," Louis says quietly. "I know."
*
Work is quieter that night. It's a Sunday and Sundays generally end earlier than any other night, and Louis sends a silent thank you to the working week. Zayn has the night off, so Louis is working the bar alone, and Harry doesn't play Sundays, so Nick is blasting his shitty pseudo-ironic pop (Louis would bet a million quid that Nick secretly loves it) and a few people are dancing, but more are huddled around the bar, talking quietly, looking for a shag.
Louis could do with a shag himself, honestly. He scans the line of faces at the bar, looking for something promising.
All he's met with is a various assortment of leers.
Louis sighs. It gets hard, sometimes, watching people cop off. It gets hard, sometimes, knowing that he's fueling these people's chances of getting laid. It gets hard, sometimes, when he's not had any sort of connection with anyone in months.
And, like, it gets hard literally, too, because he's twenty-three and how the fuck is he this celibate? He doesn't have, like, leprosy or anything.
Maybe he has leprosy of the personality, he thinks. Maybe that's what it is.
After the crowd thins out even more and Louis issues a quiet last call, Nick puts on a folky playlist and wanders over to the bar, pulling up a chair.
Louis raises an eyebrow in his direction, running a grimy rag over the mahogany. "Get you anything?" he asks.
Nick shrugs a bit. "G and T?"
Louis nods shortly and Nick takes a deep breath.
"So, again, I just wa-"
Louis holds up a hand, effectively cutting him off. "Seriously, mate. I was being too sensitive."
Nick shakes his head. "Anyway," he says, "how was tonight?"
Louis shrugs. "I'm just a bit wiped. Watching people finding other people to shag really drains me."
Nick chuckles. "I feel you there, love."
Louis eyes him. "You haven't got a bit on the side, then?"
"On the side of what, exactly?" Nick asks incredulously. "My trousers are as barren as the desert. It's a national tragedy, to be honest."
Louis snorts a laugh. "Yeah. I think I've got leprosy."
Nick pauses, with the glass in his hand, halfway to his lips. "Excuse me?"
"Yeah." Louis nods. "Yeah, like, invisible leprosy? You can't see it, but you can tell? Or something."
Nick blinks a few times, still holding his glass like a dumbshit. "You... think you have... invisible leprosy...?"
"Leprosy of the soul," Louis supplies. "Yeah, that. That sounds good. That'll be the title of my memoir."
Nick's just staring at him now, and he mouths leprosy of the soul silently, shaking his head. "You, my dear, are fucking batshit."
"Well, what else could it be?" Louis exclaims. "I'm twenty three, I've never really thought I was terrible to look at, I'm clean, I have a stable job. What's the problem?"
"Well," Nick hums thoughtfully. "Maybe it's the six fucking inches of bulletproof glass around you."
Louis arches an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Nick sighs. "You're not exactly approachable."
"Well, no one's trying hard enough," Louis says, affronted.
"Yeah," Nick says, looking down into his glass and swirling the ice around. "Maybe not."
Louis narrows his eyes, feeling a weird shift in the conversation. "Or I'm too fat," he says pointedly.
Nick's head jerks up again, mouth opening to protest, until he sees Louis' wink. "You're awful," he says instead.
"And you're miserable," Louis says back.
Nick raises his glass in a mock toast. "Pour yourself one, mate."
Louis glances around the almost empty room, noticing Liam ushering the stragglers out the door and into the taxis lined up outside.
"Why the hell not," he mutters and makes himself a vodka tonic.
Nick smirks. "Not a gin night?"
"I turn into a lonely forty year old woman with gin," Louis says, taking a long drink.
"Oh, and vodka's the cure for that?" Nick asks. "Because I'm pretty sure you just said you had leprosy of the soul, totally sober."
"Yeah," Louis says, "and you said nothing to make me feel better."
Nick laughs. "Oh, what, you want some ego stroking? Fine. Louis Tomlinson, you are the most gorgeous piece of ass I've ever seen and the things I'd do to you are absolutely filthy."
"Ego stroking," Louis snorts. "Whatever."
Nick rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."
"Whatever," Louis says again, downing the rest of his drink and pouring another. Nick watches him warily.
"Might wanna slow down there, darling," he says.
Louis smiles. "Want another?"
"Yeah," Nick sighs. "Fuck it."
Louis is starting to feel warm and loose. He grins at Nick again, sliding the glass back across to him. "If you hurt Harry, I'll kill you," he says through his million-dollar smile.
Nick pauses with his glass in midair again. "What?" he says.
Louis shrugs.
Nick unfreezes, takes a long drink. He swallows slowly, setting his glass down all careful-like. "You think," he says, "that I'm after Harry?"
Louis shrugs again, taking another long drink and staring at the wall behind Nick's head.
Nick's quiet for a moment, before bursting into loud laughter. "Oh, honey, no."
Louis scowls. "I'm not stupid, Grimshaw. I know what old men like you do with little boys like him."
Nick's laughter cuts off shortly and he stares at Louis, shocked, before his face crumples into laughter once more. "Oh my god, Tomlinson," he shrieks.
"Oh, shut the fuck up," Louis says. "Just don't you dare fuck with him."
Nick shakes his head, eyes crinkled into a fond smile. "You are something else, babe."
"I'm a prize," Louis says haughtily.
Nick's still chuckling, staring down into his drink. "You are unbelievable."
Louis doesn't want to let this go without a real answer. "If you're not after him, why the fuck do you hang around with us?"
Taking another drink and avoiding Louis' eyes, Nick shrugs. "You guys are fun? I didn't know I needed to justify being friends with you? Would you rather I stopped? I just might be able to fill my time after the obligatory Louis doesn't like me mourning period."
Louis narrows his eyes. "You're honestly not trying to fuck him? Why not?"
Nick widens his eyes back. "Seriously? A minute ago you were about to kill me because you thought I was!"
"Harry's lovely!" Louis says, offended. "Everyone wants him. Why wouldn't you?"
"Louis," Nick says, exasperated.
Louis shakes his head. "Nope. Walk me through it, cowboy, or no more drinks for you."
"Jesus," Nick sighs. "I don't know. He is lovely. And kind, and funny, and cheeky, and gorgeous. But I just... don't? I don't know. He's a brilliant mate. And, fuck off, if you want him so much, why aren't you together?"
Louis cringes. "Because," he says.
"Because...?"
Louis shakes his head. "In twenty years, if we're both single, maybe. But he's just... I don't know. I don't want to do that to him."
"Do what to him, exactly?" Nick asks.
Louis almost smiles. "Me."
*
Harry's asleep when Louis gets home. Louis opens his bedroom door quietly and slips across the room, pulling the covers back and sliding in next to Harry. Harry shudders in a deep breath and rolls over, throwing an arm around Louis' waist.
Louis closes his eyes and curls into it, pretending for a moment it's something real.
*
Louis wakes up to his mobile buzzing on the mattress next to his head. He glances over to Harry to see if he's awake, and stares right into a bright smile.
"Was I the luckiest boy alive last night and don't even remember it?" Harry asks, delighted, teasing.
Louis rolls his eyes and grins back. He opens the text and it's from Nick. Of course it is, because this is Louis' life. He braces himself for something embarrassing.
if the leprosy isnt catching, want to do brekkie ?x
"Who's it from?" Harry says, watching Louis' expression change.
"Nobody," Louis mumbles, shoving the phone under the pillow.
Harry waits just a moment to lull him into a false sense of security before snatching it. "Oh my god, Lou," he says. "Oh my god, are you and Grimmy fucking?"
"Christ, Harry, no," Louis spits out. "He probably just wants to make fun of me for whatever I said last night."
"Uh huh," Harry says. "And what'd you say last night?"
Louis blushes. "I maybe said some things I shouldn't have."
"Oh no. Lou. No. You didn't," Harry groans, and shoves his face in the pillow.
"Whatever!" Louis says. "You should be honoured I'm protecting your virtue from the big scary old man."
Harry just shakes his head and types something into Louis' phone so quickly that Louis can't gather the mentality to grab it back.
"There," Harry says, smiling.
"Fuck off," Louis grumbles, grabbing the phone and reading what Harry sent.
sounds lovely babe as long as you pick me up :) x
"Oh my god, Harry, you absolute wanker."
Harry grins just as the phone buzzes.
.........yeah ok harold youre not invited
*
Nick does pick Louis up, as it turns out, and they walk down the high street rather awkwardly.
"We've never hung out alone outside of work, you do realise," Louis says after a few moments of silence.
Nick smirks. "Well, we're mates now, so."
"Are we?" Louis asks. "How do you figure that?"
"You got drunk and told me your problem with me, I cleared up the whole situation, and now there's no reason why not," Nick recites smoothly.
Louis is silent for a moment. "I still don't understand why a thirty year old man is hanging out with a bunch of twenty year olds."
Nick grins wickedly. "You're cute, babe, but you're not twenty anymore."
Louis elbows him sharply in the side. "Arsehole. Closer to twenty than you'll ever be again."
Nick just laughs. "Let's get croissants."
"Posh," Louis says, pulling a face.
"Delicious," Nick corrects as he guides Louis into a bakery.
They sit close to the window and Nick expertly tears off a piece of his croissant and dips it in his hot chocolate. Louis watches, disgusted.
"This isn't breakfast," he says. "This is a coma."
Nick rolls his eyes. "What do they eat where you're from, then? Gravel and cinnamon?"
"You can't get through the day on bread that's more air than anything!"
"Louis," Nick says patiently, "you don't work until eight o'clock in the evening. I guarantee you'll be able to hold onto your stamina until lunchtime. Have a damn croissant."
"You know nothing about my stamina, Grimshaw," Louis says.
Nick winks. "Just say the word, love," he drawls.
"So, really. Why are we here?" Louis asks.
Nick narrows his eyes. "Because we are friends. Dammit, Tomlinson, are we going to have to get matching teeshirts or something?"
Louis considers this. "Only if I choose them. Your fashion sense is frankly appalling."
"You're in public with me," Nick says. "Are you embarrassed?"
"Dreadfully," Louis responds. "Literally if anyone I know sees us, I'm ducking under the table."
Nick slides a wounded expression onto his face. "I'm going to have to blog about how the cute boy in my english class won't talk to me in public," he says, punctuated with a heaving sigh.
Louis just shakes his head and takes a tentative bite of the fucking croissant. He chews slowly, before swallowing and looking at Nick suspiciously. "You're not going to take me to a fucking art museum or summat, are you?"
Nick grins winningly. "As a matter of fact, my mate's got a show opening today and it's just around the corner."
Louis glares at him. "We are not friends."
*
The gallery is a large white room with massive pillars in hugely inconvenient places. The paintings on the wall are graphic, colourful, and life-sized depictions of men in various stages of undress, and, as they walk further through, various stages of arousal and fornication.
Louis shoots Nick an evil look. "You took me to a porn show," he accuses.
Nick's eyes are wide as he takes in the scene. "I honestly had no idea, I'm not fucking with you."
"Bullshit," Louis says, staring at a startlingly lifelike oil painting of a man, bent in half, with the head of his own dick touching his lips. "That's not even possible, is it?"
Nick tilts his head, considering. "I mean, I guess it'd depend on flexibility and, you know, size," he says thoughtfully. "Have you ever tried?"
Louis flushes. "I-oh, fuck off. Who hasn't?"
The corners of Nick's mouth tighten as he tries not to smile. He arches an eyebrow down at Louis. "No success, then?"
Louis turns away, walking to the next painting. "Can't be that awesome doing it to yourself, though, can it? I mean, you have to do all of the work, deal with the mess, and be stuck in a supremely uncomfortable position, right? And," he says, turning back to Nick, "at your age, that could do some lasting damage to your back, mate."
Nick ignores that, moving to stand beside Louis again, their shoulders and arms brushing lightly. "One could argue the same for giving someone else head, too, though, right? Are you saying you don't do that, princess?"
Louis grins wickedly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, glancing up at Nick through his eyelashes.
Nick stares at the painting in front of them with dark eyes. It's depicting a very interesting angle of a rimjob, and Louis blinks a bit before looking down at the floor. A couple comes up next to them, talking quietly to each other, and Nick leans down, grazing his hand across Louis' lower back and whispering in his ear, "How many people here do you think are taking notes?" he asks lowly.
Louis fights back a shudder and something tight, hot, and unpleasant twists in his stomach. "Are you?" he shoots back, raising an eyebrow challengingly.
Nick makes a small noise in his throat. "I really wasn't expecting this," he says. "Completely forgot my bloody notebook."
"Pity, that," Louis says.
"Grimmy!"
Nick and Louis turn around, seeing a tall, slight, pretty man walking toward them, bouncing excitedly, almost gracefully. "Grimmy, you son of a bitch, you didn't tell me you were coming!" he exclaims, as his eyes travel from Nick to Louis. He brightens even more. "And look what you've brought me!" he purrs.
Nick's hand tenses, still on the small of Louis' back. Louis steps away from Nick slightly, nodding to the man. "Louis," he says, holding out his hand.
The man grins delightedly. "Alex," he says, shaking Louis' hand and winking, before looking back to Nick. "Grimmy, what a delicious opening gift, I'm so honoured. If you see anything that inspires you, Louis, please just say the word." He winks lewdly.
Louis fixes his polite smile with some effort, but Nick's lips thin coldly. "Actually, we were just heading out. Sorry, mate," he says, and his hand finds the small of Louis' back again, pressing his shirt against his skin firmly, guiding him towards the door.
"Good show," Nick calls over his shoulder and Louis nods shortly. Alex watches them leave, eyes narrowed.
Once they're outside of the gallery, Nick drops his hand and turns to face Louis, running a hand through his floppy quiff. "God," he says, "Sorry about that."
Louis shrugs. "S'fine."
Nick squints at him, saying, "I can see what you're thinking."
"What?" Louis says, smirking. "What am I thinking, then?"
"You're thinking about how you're used to it and how it'd be weirder if that didn't happen every time you stepped out of your fucking flat," Nick says.
Louis grins, shrugging again. "You said it, not me."
Nick shakes his head. "You make me look bad just standing there, kiddo," he says.
"Actually," Louis says, "I probably make you look awesome. I'm just saying."
"Because your beauty far surpasses mine and random observers should be high-fiving me as we walk down the street?" Nick says dryly, arching an eyebrow.
Louis chuckles. "Don't take it too hard. I'm sure they're also thinking you're very rich, so."
Nick blinks, and then says, "You are actually a devil child, Tomlinson."
"Whatever," Louis says, laughing a little. "I need to get back, but I guess this was fun?"
"You guess," Nick repeats flatly. "Cheers."
Louis grins and elbows Nick in the ribs. "Come on, Prince Charming. Drive me home. Harry'll be there, probably."
Nick nods a little, cutting a sharp look at Louis. "Maybe I should be trying to sleep with Harry," he says. "At least Harry is nice to me."
"Harry's nice to everyone," Louis replies loftily.
"And you're not?"
Louis raises an eyebrow and Nick snorts. "Fair play," he says.
*
Nick leaves their flat two hours before they're all due at work and as soon as the door closes behind him, Harry turns straight to Louis.
"You're so full of shit, Lou," Harry says, smiling with his eyes.
Louis blinks at him. "Excuse me?"
"You were not protecting me," Harry answers, laughing. "You were jealous! I cannot believe I missed that."
"I... Excuse me?" Louis says again.
Harry shakes his head. "You want Grimmy to hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear and take you home to his mum and give you back rubs and propose marriage and pop out babies."
Louis opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. "Excuse me?" he says, one more time.
Harry's smile fades slightly and he peers curiously into Louis' face. "Don't you?"
"No!" Louis exclaims. "That's ridiculous. We don't even get along, Haz."
Brow furrowing, Harry says, "It certainly looked like you get along, Lou. I was bloody third-wheeling with my two best mates."
Louis stares at Harry. "All three of us were playing FIFA, Harry. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to third wheel there."
"You honestly don't like him?" Harry asks, frowning a little.
"Er. No?" Louis says. "I mean, to be fair, it's never crossed my mind, but that's pretty telling, so."
"Oh," is all Harry says for a moment. Then, "I'm not usually wrong about you, Lou."
Louis just shrugs. "Sorry?"
Harry just looks at him. He says quietly, "It wouldn't be bad if you did, you know."
Louis looks down at the ground, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "Whatever," he says.
*
The night is decidedly not going well. Before Harry's set, a group of uni girls bought him shot after shot and he downed them, licking his stupid lips and smiling his stupid smile and basically getting them to drop trou right at the bar and Louis couldn't say no, really, because money is money but he was getting furious so Zayn took over and now Niall is nowhere to be found and Louis thinks it's because one of the girls that Harry was playing with had spotted him and now they were playing PacMan or whatever the fuck Niall does with birds and Liam keeps drifting towards the bar, towards Zayn, heedless of the countless underage kids coming through the door and Louis is fucking overwhelmed.
Nick, though. Nick's sober. Which, like, whenever a night even has a slight bad turn, Nick's first move is to get trashed and let someone else deal with the fallout and the subsequent clean-up. And that someone is always Louis.
But tonight, Nick's sober and glancing over at the bar worriedly because Harry's at the end of his regular set and there's no sign at all that he's stopping and it's closing in on two in the morning and Niall's not there to cut him off and if Harry will ignore Nick if he tries anything and Louis' head is killing him and fuck.
He presses the heels of his hands to his eye sockets.
"Alright, love?" drawls a voice from across the bar.
Louis looks up into the leering face of a forty year old man, whose eyes are running over his chest and hips and thighs, then back up to his lips.
Louis takes a deep breath and avoids his gaze. "What can I get you," he says flatly.
The man smirks. "How much for a blowjob?"
A muscle in Louis' cheek jumps. "You've got three seconds to order a drink, mate," he says, letting his eyes scan the room as if bored.
"Ooh, feisty," says the creep. "I like that. Are you a screamer? Do you scratch? Bite back?"
Louis has no idea what his expression looks like, but it must not be pleasant, because suddenly Nick is there, grabbing the guy's shoulder. "Mate, you need to leave," Nick says, all authority.
The guy snorts, looking Nick up and down. "Yeah, in a minute," he slurs. "Gonna get this piece to come with me." He gestures to Louis.
Louis balls his hands behind the bar, fingernails cutting into his palms.
"No," Nick says, voice forcibly calm. "You're not."
The guy steps up into Nick's face. "And who the fuck are you? Is he yours?"
And, see, Louis is usually better at standing up for himself. Louis is the fucking champion of standing up for himself. But tonight all the fight drains out of him and he just looks at Nick, and Nick looks back at him for a brief moment before turning back to this fucking arsehole, who's now prodding his finger into Nick's chest.
"He good in bed?" the guy's saying. "He a screamer? He looks like he can take it hard, can't you, babe?"
Louis just looks at Nick, saying nothing.
"Right," Nick says, and punches the guy in the face.
"Oh, fuck," Louis says, into the moment of silence that always begins chaos.
And then the guy buries his own fist into Nick's stomach, and Nick doubles over, gasping, and Liam's there - thank fuck for Liam - and restraining the guy as his nose pours blood. Everyone's yelling, swarming around, trying to get closer to the action, and Harry's finally lost his audience, so he jumps off stage, heading over to see what's happened.
Liam looks at Louis. "What the fuck happened?" he asks.
Louis opens his mouth and widens his eyes and just shakes his head briefly. "I... he was being rude?" he says.
Liam looks at him hard for a moment, and then nods, seeming to understand. "Alright, mate, you're out of here," he says to the guy, holding his arms behind his back by his wrists, as if Liam were a goddamn cop.
The crowd is dispersing a little, the fight having brought everyone back to reality. The obviously underage kids scarper off, clearly afraid of police being called, while everyone else backs away, realising the music's over and the bartender's shaken and perhaps it's closing time.
Louis rounds the bar and comes to stand next to Nick, who's slumped onto a stool, leaning against the counter. "Fuck," Nick says. "That's what I get for defending your goddamn virtue, I guess."
Louis smiles weakly. "You shouldn't have done that, you fucking idiot."
Nick just shrugs. "I mean. People can't talk about you like that, you know?"
Harry comes up to them, then. "Fuck, mate, what the hell happened?" he asks Nick. "I just had to wrestle that guy into a taxi with Liam and he was screaming about lawsuits and shit. What did you do?"
Nick grins, delighted. "Harry Styles! You think I provoked a man twice my girth into a fight?"
"Well," Harry says, blinking, obviously considering this. "I mean, no, but he did say you threw the first punch."
"Ah, well." Nick nods sagely. "We can't have our Tommo harassed in the workplace, can we?" He throws his arm around Louis's neck, bringing his hand up to pinch Louis' cheek.
Louis squirms away. "Fuck off. I can take it."
Harry's face immediately darkens. "What'd he say to you, Lou?"
Louis just shakes his head. "It's fine. It's over. This knight in shining armour took care of it, I guess."
Harry doesn't look convinced, but he nods, keeping his eyes on Louis. "Well," he says, "I need a drink, lads, what about you?"
Nick says, "God, yes."
Sighing, Louis starts to round the bar again, saying, "Orders?" but Nick grabs his arm.
"No," Nick says, "your shift is over."
Louis shrugs. "I don't mind."
"No," Harry says. "Nick's right. Let's go to ours, yeah?"
"Brilliant!" Nick says, clapping his hands together. "I'll get us a cab."
Louis hesitates. "Wait, though. Who's gonna take care of closing up everything here?"
Nick and Harry turn back to look at him. "Louis," Harry says patiently. "Let someone else do things for you, for once."
Nick eyes Louis curiously after Harry says that, but nods his agreement.
Louis sighs. "Alright, alright. Let's go."
*
An hour and a half later, Louis is spectacularly drunk.
Like, phenomenally drunk.
"Three fuckin' sheets to the wind!" he crows, throwing his arms above his head.
Harry looks at him from the floor, where he's inexplicably playing dead like a goddamn possum, limbs held straight into the air.
Nick just looks at both of them, amused, from his spot lounged across the couch, toes nudging against Louis' thigh.
"Hey," Harry says, slowly. "Hey, guys, I just had the best idea ever."
"Ooh!" Louis yells. "Harry idea! Harry idea Harry idea Harry idea!" He turns to Nick and whispers conspiratorially, "Harry always has the best ideas."
Nick arches an eyebrow lazily, his eyes half-lidded and dark, his lips bitten red, swollen. Louis glances away, taking another drink.
"I think," Harry says, "we should play truth or dare!"
"Truth or dare!" Louis yells, throwing his hands in the air again.
"With three people?" Nick asks. "How's that work?"
Harry stares blearily at Nick. "Are you new? I go like, hey, Grimmy, truth or dare? And then you choose one, and-"
"No, fuckhead," Nick says. "I know how fucking truth or dare works. I was twelve once, too-"
Louis snorts. "But your memories must be getting hazy by now," he interrupts.
"-but I mean, how is it going to be fun with only three people?" Nick finishes, throwing Louis a dark glare.
Louis smiles serenely.
"No, no! It'll be fun. I promise," Harry says. "I'll go first. Lou, truth or dare."
"Dare," Louis says, smirking.
Harry makes a considering sound, glancing from Louis' face to his half-full drink. "Okay. Chug your drink."
Louis shrugs, does so. "Okay. So. Hazza, truth or dare?"
Louis feels warm, light, loose, and his thoughts are jangling around dangerously. Nick's toes are stroking against his thigh and he reaches down a hand to still them, but his hand ends up staying there, just resting.
Harry smiles. "Truth."
"Boys or girls, Harry? Answer honestly now." Louis smiles right back.
Nick laughs. "Whippin' out the big guns, I see."
Harry tilts his head to the side, his eyes going distant and thoughtful. "That's a tough one," he says. "Why do I have to choose?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "You don't have to choose, like, only to fuck one or the other for the rest of your life. I'm just wondering, like, which you prefer."
Harry hums to himself for a few seconds, swaying back and forth. "Girls, maybe? But also boys? But girls. I think. But, wait."
Nick snorts. "Don't hurt yourself, love."
"Whatever," Harry says. "Grimmy. Truth or dare."
"Dare," Nick sighs. "I cannot believe we're doing this. You're such children."
Louis coughs into his hands, and it sounds suspiciously like paedophile.
Harry's eyes turn wicked in a millisecond. "Right. Nick, snog Louis. Thirty seconds, open mouths, real snogging."
Louis' head snaps up and his cheeks flush even more. He stares at Harry.
Nick's gone pale. He says, "What?" and his voice breaks.
Louis chances a glance over at him and Nick quickly meets his eyes before turning back to Harry. "What?" he says again.
"I dared it, and so it is law!" Harry cries.
Swirling his drink in his hand, Nick stares down, before taking a long pull, draining the glass.
"Alright, sailor," he says, licking his lips and raising his head to Louis. "Come on over here."
Louis hesitates, because Nick's sprawled out across the couch lengthwise, and the only way to get in a comfortable snogging position - Louis can't believe this is his life - would be to actually crawl up his body and straddle his hips.
But Nick doesn't seem like he's about to move so Louis shrugs and sets his glass on the table and crawls up his body to straddle his hips.
Nick makes a choked off sound, as if he wasn't expecting Louis to rise to the bait, but Louis smirks down at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Well? Lay it on me, old man," Louis says.
Nick narrows his eyes and pulls Louis down by the nape of his neck, long spider-fingers brushing through the soft hair there. He pauses, barely a breath away from pressing their lips together, and meets Louis' eyes. Louis stares back, before rolling them and crashing his mouth down on Nick's.
It's nice. It's sloppy and wet and neither of them are too concerned about form, apparently, and it tastes a little too much like gin for Louis' comfort, but Nick's hands are large and warm and they stroke down Louis' back, resting on his hips, pulling him in tighter, and Louis groans a little, rocking down, feeling his thighs tense. He brings his hands up to grab onto Nick's hair, clenching and tugging lightly and smiling against his lips when it makes Nick gasp.
Louis pulls back briefly to catch his breath. He stares down at Nick for a moment, who's gazing up at him, flushed, absolutely wrecked, with his fingers still digging into Louis' hips and Louis blinks. He turns to look at Harry.
Harry's still on the floor, but now he's sitting up straight, staring, open-mouthed.
"Oh," Harry says.
"Oh," Louis says, and he's pulling back for real now, rolling off Nick's body and onto the floor. He crawls over to Harry on his hands and knees, burying his face in Harry's neck.
Harry's hands come to wrap around his waist, and he presses a kiss to Louis' hair. "Bedtime, love?" he whispers.
Louis nods and pulls himself up. He avoids Nick's eyes as he picks his way across the living room floor. "G'night, lads," he rasps.
"Night, Lou," Nick says, and it sounds resigned.
*
At some point in the night, Harry crawled into his bed.
Louis realises this the second he blinks into consciousness, because he snorts up a curl and his body is so overheated he thinks he might burst into flame.
"Oi," he says, and then winces because his motherfucking head.
Right.
Right, last night.
Right.
Fuck.
He gropes for his phone to check the time. 9:32 in the morning. That weird grey area between too early and too late.
"Harry," Louis says, shaking him by the shoulder. "Harry!"
Harry mumbles something incoherent and turns over, flopping his face into the pillow.
"Harry!" Louis says again, tickling at his ribs.
"Fuck off, what," Harry grunts.
"Did Nick say anything to you after I went to bed?" he asks.
Harry squeezes his eyes closed. "I dunno, mate. Maybe? I think he was a bit ticked off at me."
"At you?"
Sighing, Harry rolls over to look into Louis' face. "Yeah, me. Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" Louis snaps. "Because we snogged and it was awkward and I kind of drunkenly ran away?"
Harry shrugs. "Didn't look awkward. Was hot."
Louis rolls his eyes. "Did he go home?"
"I think so," Harry says around a yawn. "He said he'd kip here for a few to sleep it off, then head home."
Louis bites his lip. "So I should like. Talk to him. Right?"
"Louis, fuck, I really want to help you through your emotional crisis here, you know I do, but my head feels like a bloody warzone, you know?"
Louis smiles slightly, saying, "Yeah, 'course. Sorry. Go back to sleep."
Harry puckers out his lips in a garish and pathetic air-kiss and rolls back over, immediately breathing steadily and deeply.
Glancing back down at his phone again, Louis unlocks it and hesitantly types a new text.
hey mate. brekkie again ? maybe no porn gallery but i'd like to see you x
After five minutes of locking his phone, unlocking his phone, refreshing his text messages, staring at the ceiling, and playing with Harry's hair, the stupid thing buzzes in his hand.
sounds good. i'll come get you in an hour x
Louis rolls his lips into his mouth and stares at the text, analysing all the possible tones it could have, before shaking himself and slipping into the shower.
When Nick arrives, he's clean and shaven and quiffed another six inches high, looking entirely too put-together in tight jeans and a loose v-neck. He gives Louis a half smile.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," Louis says back. "So, um-"
Nick shakes his head quickly. "Breakfast first," he says, eyes soft. "Gotta get a croissant in me before being let down easy, you know?"
"Oh." Louis blinks. "Oh, no, I-"
"Lou," Nick says. "Breakfast."
Louis nods, and they make their way to the same bakery as before, this time completely silent. It's not awkward, per se, but it's tense, almost frenetic; potential energy crackling between them.
The release of potential energy turns it into kinetic energy, or something. Louis almost snorts at his train of thought.
They get their food and sit at the same table as before.
"So," Louis starts.
Nick holds up a hand. "Can I go first?" he asks.
Louis nods, picking at the flakes of bread on his plate.
"Okay," Nick says. "So you know how you thought for apparently, like, ever that I was into Harry?"
Louis nods and his stomach tightens, dreading this already.
"Okay," Nick says again, nodding back. "I was never, ever into Harry."
Louis stills momentarily, then nods. "Okay," he says slowly.
Nick's looking at him meaningfully, as if there's something he should be understanding. Louis has no idea. "And?" he prompts.
Nick rolls his eyes, then, snorting, "Christ," under his breath. "Okay, boy genius, what I'm saying is, like." He stops and rubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, okay. I've liked you, you little brat. And you seemed to really, really hate me until, like, three days ago? So, I'm sorry if this is going to get weird, or if last night is going to make it weird, or what the fuck ever, but I figure, like, you know. Since last night happened, you probably deserve to know?"
Louis stares across the table at him.
Nick's eyes flit around the room nervously. "So, like, you know, if it's ever like, oh, Grimmy's being a bit weird around me, you can just be like, oh, right, because he's in love with me. Poor bloke. Or whatever."
"You..." Louis trails off. "Really?"
Nick huffs out a sharp breath. "No. No, actually, I'm completely joking. I just thought it'd be a laugh to wind you up," he snaps sarcastically.
Louis feels the corners of his mouth tug up involuntarily. "You're insufferable," he says.
"Yes, well, you look like you're about to laugh at the arsehole who just told you he was in love with you, so neither of us are really at our best right now," Nick says.
Louis just shakes his head, the smile on his face growing. "I was so sure you liked Harry and it bothered me so much."
Nick rolls his eyes again. "Well, sorry for that too, then."
"No," Louis says. "No, I mean. It really, really bothered me. And I couldn't figure out why, so I just, like, blamed your age?"
Nick looks like he's trying as hard as he can not to get hopeful. Louis keeps smiling, looking over at him through his eyelashes.
"But, like, I think I know why it bothered me?"
"Louis," Nick says, "you're going to have to say something like Oh, Nicholas, I want your lovely quiff pressed up against mine within the next ten seconds or I might actually have a coronary."
"Quiff shagging?" Louis asks. "Is that a thing these days? Are you more hip to the sex scene than I am? Frankly, that's embarrassing."
Nick ignores him and says, "Louis."
"Yeah," Louis says. "Yeah, Nick. Right?"
Nick finally allows himself to smile, and it spreads across his face, reaching his eyes. "Right," he says.
After a moment of them sitting in a bakery over stupid fucking posh croissants, smiling at each other, Nick says, "I hope you realise I'm going to hold the fuck out of your hand."
"In public?!" Louis asks, feigning horror.
"I think you'll get over the embarrassment," Nick says confidently.
pairing: nick grimshaw/louis tomlinson (sorry)
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
word count: ~9,500
summary: AU. so louis kind of doesn't like nick. like at all. really. he swears.
notes: okay OKAY DON'T YELL AT ME I'M REALLY SORRY, this is the one and only time this will happen, I'M JUST SO INTERESTED IN THEIR DYNAMIC okay omg i'm sorry. i'll write so much harry/louis that you'll want to throw me off a CLIFF, okay, cool. anyway. a lot of people are responsible for this, not just me, so! based on a prompt idea by carla, shamelessly encouraged by my girls flimsy and miss_mady, and read over by sadie. thanks so much, ladiez.
going off that, i guess i have tumblr now. that's a very louis-positive space, enter with care.
sorry again.
It's one of those nights where everything manages to come together perfectly. Harry's on his last encore just as Louis issues last call, there are no drunken arseholes propositioning him (or threatening him, or threateningly propositioning him), Nick's not too drunk to stand, Liam is manning the door and directing the taxies, Zayn's calmly chainsmoking out back, and Niall's ready at the wings of the stage to haul equipment.
It's refreshing, Louis thinks, because usually Harry's swayed by adoration into six or seven encores and Louis has to deal with disgruntled arseholes who want more drinks because the music's still going and Nick's a complete mess at the soundboard and egging Harry on and Liam sometimes gets distracted by Zayn and Niall's too busy socialising to actually cut Harry off and in that hour span of disasters, Louis manages to receive an upwards of twenty comments on his arse, spanning the spectrum of complimentary to fucking illegal.
But tonight it seems like they might actually have the club emptied by three in the morning and that might be a goddamn record.
Nick's looking over at Louis, now, arching an eyebrow, and Louis nods to him. Nick jerks his head at Harry and Harry throws him a wink and drawls into the mic, "Thanks so much, everyone, I've had a brilliant time up here, as always, and you were fantastic. I'm Harry Styles and behind me on keyboards is Aiden Grimshaw, with Matt Cardle on guitars, and Greg James on drums. We're Upset Victory. Thanks for listening."
And everyone's yelling as they set their instruments down and Louis raises his eyes to the sky, mouthing a quick prayer that Niall will unplug the amps immediately and he does and everything's just coming up aces.
Louis is so, so, so, tired.
It takes about an hour to clear everyone out and it's okay, it's fine, because no one's belligerent, and there are only three blokes who grab his arse as he rounds the bar and Zayn comes back in to help and.
Yes. Three o'clock on the dot, the place is empty, but for their rag-tag little group. Harry comes to the bar and slumps down, resting his cheeks on his fists.
"Lou," Harry moans, voice rasping dangerously. "Whisky."
Louis grins. "Haz, by the sound of it, you'd do better with some tea."
Harry looks at him murderously. "Whisky."
Louis shrugs and turns around to grab a glass, just as Nick, Zayn, Liam, and Niall sit down.
"Where'd the band disappear to, then?" Nick asks, glancing around the empty room that looks so much smaller and grottier when there aren't two hundred sweaty patrons pressed together.
Harry snorts. "Aiden and Matt had some stuff to do, apparently, and Greg copped off with some bloke in the crowd, I don't know. He was short."
"Oi," Louis interjects mildly.
Harry smiles at him and Nick smirks. "No offense, love," Harry says.
Louis rolls his eyes and sets the whisky in front of Harry, sweeping his eyes over the rest of them. "Anyone else going to exploit me after my shift? Tell me now before I sit down and die."
Liam looks at him sympathetically, before glancing at Zayn.
Zayn purses his lips to hide the stupid smile Louis knows he wants to let out. "Actually, I think I'm gonna head home. Uh, Li, do you want a ride?"
Liam smiles down at his hands. "If you're headed in my direction."
"That could be arranged," Zayn replies, quirking an eyebrow.
Louis widens his eyes at Harry, blinking exaggeratedly. Harry giggles.
"Oh, just go, you two," Nick snaps. "We get it. You're getting laid. Rub it in more, thanks."
Liam blushes spectacularly and Zayn just smirks. "Fine. We're out," Zayn says, grabbing Liam's arm and they stumble out the back entrance, hips knocking together.
"Fuck them," Louis mutters under his breath.
"Aw," Nick coos. "Did the poor little pretty boy not find anyone good enough?"
Louis clenches his jaw.
The thing is, Nick is the anomaly of their weird little clique. He's thirty - seven years older than Louis, ten years older than Harry, and nine years older than Liam, Zayn, and Niall. And it's weird - well, at least, Louis thinks it's weird - that he hangs out with them once the shifts are over. Because it's not like Nick doesn't have other friends. Nick is a professional shmoozer, a professional networker. He's a socialiser in the exact way Louis is not.
So, it doesn't make sense to Louis, because if he were Nick, he wouldn't be hanging out with a group of boys that were essentially kids compared to him. He'd need some extra motivation there. And that's why Louis is worried, because he has a vague idea what Nick's motivation might be and it makes his stomach clench involuntarily.
And it's dumb, because Harry can do whatever he wants. Harry can fuck whomever he pleases and Harry is his own person and Louis has absolutely no claim over him and it's just. Dumb. Louis is being dumb. But Harry's also so young and trusting and blindly unaware to the cynicism of thirty year old men and Louis just.
Louis just worries, because if Harry sleeps with Nick, if Harry falls in love with Nick, and Nick hurts him, Louis will probably have to go to jail for murder.
And, like, Louis wouldn't do well in jail. Louis can barely make it through a shift at the club unscathed.
The point is, Louis is wary of Nick and Nick seems vaguely unimpressed by Louis as a whole anyway so they orbit each other carefully, stuck in a cold war. A tentative detante.
Louis blinks, and everyone's staring at him, because apparently he just spaced the fuck out, staring at Nick, and grinding his jaw together.
"Oh," he says, dumbly. "No, actually. I prefer not to sleep with blokes that think it's acceptable to drunkenly grope their bartenders, shockingly enough."
Niall snorts. "Sounds fair enough. Can I get a pint off you, mate?"
Louis nods and starts pulling it, focusing intently on the glass because he can feel Nick's eyes on him and whenever Nick starts looking too closely, Louis' skin feels tight and.
There's just something about Nick that puts Louis on edge.
He slides the pint over to Niall and arches an eyebrow back at Nick. "And anything for you, highness?"
Nick considers him for a moment. "Would a G and T be out of the question?"
Louis shrugs, pulling down two glasses, rapidly mixing the two drinks. He hands one off to Nick and says, "Budge over," to Harry, squeezing his way in between the two of them.
He gives Nick a vaguely triumphant look, but Nick isn't looking at him anymore. He's turned, talking to Niall rapidly about carpooling to Rita's party next Thursday.
Harry says quietly, "Everything alright, mate?"
Louis could probably make some pretty embarrassing sex noises about how good it feels to sit down, to rest his feet, to relax on this uncomfortable bar stool, but he just shrugs and says, "Always," with a small smile, just for Harry.
Harry just looks at him skeptically. "Really?" he says, dropping the volume of his voice even more.
Louis leans over and rests his head on Harry's shoulder. "I'm so tired," he breathes.
"Yeah," Harry says into his hair, voice soft. "Yeah, I know. Shall we go home?"
Louis closes his eyes for a moment, then straightens up, shaking himself, glueing on a bright smile. "No. No, I'm fine. Whatever you want to do."
Nick looks back at them, then. He eyes Louis. "You look knackered, mate."
Louis shrugs, taking a long pull of his drink. "Really?" he says. "I feel fine."
Harry says, "Come on, Lou. Let's go home. I need some sleep."
"Okay," Louis says. "If you're sure."
"Lou," Harry says.
Nick's still watching them. "I'll drive you home," he offers.
"That'd be-" Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.
"I've got it, thanks," Louis says, smiling tightly. He waves his half-full glass. "First one of the night."
Nick glances from the glass to Louis' face. "You look dead on your feet, love," he says. "I'll drive you guys home."
Harry grips Louis' shoulder as Louis opens his mouth to refuse again. "That'd be great, Nick, thanks," he says pointedly, fingers digging into Louis' collarbones.
Louis clenches his jaw.
*
Harry invites Nick inside when they pull up to their flat, because of course he does.
"Beer?" he offers.
Nick glances at Louis, who's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, fidgeting. He wants to go to bed but he doesn't want to leave Harry alone with Nick, or Nick alone with Harry, and he hates himself for it, because Harry's an adult and why can't Louis remember that?
"Sure," Nick says.
Louis sighs internally. "Me too, Haz."
Harry looks surprised. "Really? Are you sure you don't want to go to bed?"
Louis forces a smile. "I'm sure."
They file into the living room and Harry takes the opportunity to show Nick the sound system he'd spend an entire weekend hooking up and - Louis notices - completely fails to mention the fact that it was actually Louis who did most of the work.
"This is pretty fuckin' brilliant," Nick says, nodding. "Play something for me."
Harry beams and grabs his iPod. "Let's see. Any suggestions, Lou?"
Louis tilts his head back on the couch, studying them both with half open eyes. "How about some Wagner?" Louis says.
Harry rolls his eyes and Nick just blinks, letting his gaze float over Louis as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.
Louis takes a long, slow pull of his beer. "But anyway, I'm sure Nick would rather hear something nice and sensual, wouldn't you, big guy?"
"Yeah," Nick says, curling his lip. "Yeah, Harold, play me some Boyz II Men."
Harry rolls his eyes again. "You two, I swear to god." He puts on Fleet Foxes and Louis groans, because, like, boring, but Nick grins.
"Did you know, young Harold, that when you were just a wee one, I saw Fleet Foxes at one of the tiny stages at Leeds and they were fucking horrid. Look where they are now! That'll be you in a few years, once you leave the horrid phase."
Harry swats at him. "You evil man!" he gasps.
Nick chuckles, catching his hand before it hits him. "It's tough love, babe. Tough love."
Harry pulls them both onto the couch beside Louis and Nick crashes down, long legs tangling with Harry's, and like.
Yep. That's Louis' cue to leave.
"Well, lads - or, I guess, lad and man - I'm going to turn in, I think," he says, sitting up a little. His head feels like it weighs about sixteen stone.
"No," Harry whines, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. "No, cuddle. Cuddles now."
Louis bites his lip. "Cuddle with Nick," he says, trying oh-so-hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"No," Harry moans. "Nick's not soft like you are."
From beside Harry, Louis hears Nick snort. "I wouldn't stand for that, if I were you, Lou," Nick says.
"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean," Harry says. "Nick's all bony and sharp and you're all soft and warm and cuddly."
Louis scoffs. "You're saying words, but all I'm hearing is fat fat fat fat."
"Aw, come cuddle, Lou," Nick says mockingly. "We don't care that you're fat."
Harry elbows him hard in the stomach, and yeah, Louis thinks. Harry can say what he wants, but he's the only one.
"Thanks," Louis says, all ice, "but I'm going to pass."
He drops his bottle in the sink and trudges towards his room, not getting there in time to miss Nick's whispered, "I was just kidding," and Harry's reply, "Well, don't."
*
Nick's gone when Louis wakes up. Harry's curled up on the couch with a blanket over him. Louis lays down next to him, pressed between Harry and the back of the couch, and wraps his arms around him.
Harry shifts, rolls over. "Hey," he rasps.
Louis smiles. "Hey."
Harry blinks a bit, scrunching his face up. "Oh," he says. "Oh, Lou, Nick was just kidding, you know? Just being a bit cheeky."
"Whatever," Louis says. "I don't care. Did you guys do anything?"
"Nah, he finished his beer and left. I dunno. I think he felt really bad," Harry says, widening his eyes at Louis.
"Oh, stop it with those," Louis says, blowing gently into Harry's face so he has to squeeze his eyes shut. "I don't care. There's just a difference between what you can say and what, like, anyone else can say, you know? Especially people who don't even like me."
"What!" Harry exclaims. "He likes you."
Louis snorts. "Sure."
"I'm sure he does," Harry says confidently. "He hangs out with us, doesn't he?"
"He hangs out with you, Haz," Louis replies, rolling his eyes. "Just... be careful there, yeah?"
Harry's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
Louis sighs. "You know."
Harry blinks a bit and then his mouth drops open. "Oh my god. No, Louis, seriously, come on."
"Whatever," Louis says, shaking his head. "Just be careful." He pulls himself away from Harry then, sliding off the couch and padding into the kitchen. Harry follows closely.
"I promise it's not like that, Lou," Harry pleads.
Louis puts the kettle on and glances back at Harry. "I don't care, mate, seriously. I just don't want you to get hurt!"
Harry brushes past him to get to the fridge, pulling out eggs and peppers and onions and potatoes. Louis grins. He loves Harry's fry-ups.
Harry says, "I'm going to forget this conversation happened, because Nick doesn't fancy me and I don't fancy Nick. Got it?"
Louis just shakes his head and pours two cups of tea, sliding one over to Harry. Harry nods his thanks, keeping his gaze on Louis.
"Is that why you were being weird last night?" Harry asks.
Louis huffs a breath. "I wasn't being weird last night."
"You were, though."
"I was just tired. Make me food, slave."
Harry throws him an unimpressed look and shakes his head. "Nick and I aren't going to fuck."
"Fine, jesus, sorry I mentioned it," Louis snaps. "Let's move on."
Louis' mobile buzzes, then, on the coffee table in the living room. Louis groans and Harry rolls his eyes, but stops chopping vegetables and goes and gets it.
"I love you so much, Harry Styles," Louis calls after him.
Harry comes back wearing an evil smirk. "Yes," is all he says, and tosses Louis the phone.
There's a text open and Louis says, "Your mum really never taught you privacy, did she," as he glances down at it.
It's from Nick.
hey louis i just wanted to say i'm really sorry about last night? i never meant anything, just banter. sorry again x
Louis pulls a face. "You read this?" he asks Harry.
Harry shrugs. "Yeah. Sweet, innit? Told you he likes you."
Louis just wrinkles his nose. "Whatever." He sets his phone down.
"What are you gonna say back?" Harry presses.
"Er," Louis says. "I dunno? Nothing?"
"You can't just say nothing, Lou! Rude."
"Fine." Louis grabs his phone again. "What should I say then, o great all-knowing one?"
Harry looks exasperated. "Just say it's not a big deal!"
its cool mate is what Louis ends up typing. He holds it out to Harry. "Good enough?"
Harry pulls a face. "You could be friendlier. Why aren't you friendlier to him?"
"I'm perfectly friendly!" Louis protests
Harry levels him a look. "You're borderline polite," he says. "At best."
"Fine!" Louis says. "Fine."
its cool mate i was just really tired no worries x
He holds his phone out again. "Better?"
Harry nods, a small smile pulling at his cheeks, and gets back to fixing breakfast.
"You're weird," Louis says, watching him.
"You're crazy," Harry shoots back.
"Yeah," Louis sighs.
Harry slides a plate in front of him, fried up just the way Louis likes, because Harry is fantastic.
Louis sometimes really regrets they never fell in love with each other, because the thought of ever living apart from Harry scares the fuck out of him. The thought of not having Harry read his every mood and his every affectation is genuinely terrifying.
Which, speaking of:
"Are you alright, mate? Like, really?" Harry says, through a mouthful of potato.
"Of course!" Louis says, smiling at him. "What do you mean?"
"You've just..." Harry trails off, motioning wildly with his hands, as that was an acceptable answer. "Seemed off, lately, I guess," he finishes.
Louis smiles kind of wryly. "Just a bit tired, H, really."
"Yeah?" Harry looks at him skeptically. "Well. I mean. If you ever... you know."
"Yeah," Louis says quietly. "I know."
*
Work is quieter that night. It's a Sunday and Sundays generally end earlier than any other night, and Louis sends a silent thank you to the working week. Zayn has the night off, so Louis is working the bar alone, and Harry doesn't play Sundays, so Nick is blasting his shitty pseudo-ironic pop (Louis would bet a million quid that Nick secretly loves it) and a few people are dancing, but more are huddled around the bar, talking quietly, looking for a shag.
Louis could do with a shag himself, honestly. He scans the line of faces at the bar, looking for something promising.
All he's met with is a various assortment of leers.
Louis sighs. It gets hard, sometimes, watching people cop off. It gets hard, sometimes, knowing that he's fueling these people's chances of getting laid. It gets hard, sometimes, when he's not had any sort of connection with anyone in months.
And, like, it gets hard literally, too, because he's twenty-three and how the fuck is he this celibate? He doesn't have, like, leprosy or anything.
Maybe he has leprosy of the personality, he thinks. Maybe that's what it is.
After the crowd thins out even more and Louis issues a quiet last call, Nick puts on a folky playlist and wanders over to the bar, pulling up a chair.
Louis raises an eyebrow in his direction, running a grimy rag over the mahogany. "Get you anything?" he asks.
Nick shrugs a bit. "G and T?"
Louis nods shortly and Nick takes a deep breath.
"So, again, I just wa-"
Louis holds up a hand, effectively cutting him off. "Seriously, mate. I was being too sensitive."
Nick shakes his head. "Anyway," he says, "how was tonight?"
Louis shrugs. "I'm just a bit wiped. Watching people finding other people to shag really drains me."
Nick chuckles. "I feel you there, love."
Louis eyes him. "You haven't got a bit on the side, then?"
"On the side of what, exactly?" Nick asks incredulously. "My trousers are as barren as the desert. It's a national tragedy, to be honest."
Louis snorts a laugh. "Yeah. I think I've got leprosy."
Nick pauses, with the glass in his hand, halfway to his lips. "Excuse me?"
"Yeah." Louis nods. "Yeah, like, invisible leprosy? You can't see it, but you can tell? Or something."
Nick blinks a few times, still holding his glass like a dumbshit. "You... think you have... invisible leprosy...?"
"Leprosy of the soul," Louis supplies. "Yeah, that. That sounds good. That'll be the title of my memoir."
Nick's just staring at him now, and he mouths leprosy of the soul silently, shaking his head. "You, my dear, are fucking batshit."
"Well, what else could it be?" Louis exclaims. "I'm twenty three, I've never really thought I was terrible to look at, I'm clean, I have a stable job. What's the problem?"
"Well," Nick hums thoughtfully. "Maybe it's the six fucking inches of bulletproof glass around you."
Louis arches an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Nick sighs. "You're not exactly approachable."
"Well, no one's trying hard enough," Louis says, affronted.
"Yeah," Nick says, looking down into his glass and swirling the ice around. "Maybe not."
Louis narrows his eyes, feeling a weird shift in the conversation. "Or I'm too fat," he says pointedly.
Nick's head jerks up again, mouth opening to protest, until he sees Louis' wink. "You're awful," he says instead.
"And you're miserable," Louis says back.
Nick raises his glass in a mock toast. "Pour yourself one, mate."
Louis glances around the almost empty room, noticing Liam ushering the stragglers out the door and into the taxis lined up outside.
"Why the hell not," he mutters and makes himself a vodka tonic.
Nick smirks. "Not a gin night?"
"I turn into a lonely forty year old woman with gin," Louis says, taking a long drink.
"Oh, and vodka's the cure for that?" Nick asks. "Because I'm pretty sure you just said you had leprosy of the soul, totally sober."
"Yeah," Louis says, "and you said nothing to make me feel better."
Nick laughs. "Oh, what, you want some ego stroking? Fine. Louis Tomlinson, you are the most gorgeous piece of ass I've ever seen and the things I'd do to you are absolutely filthy."
"Ego stroking," Louis snorts. "Whatever."
Nick rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."
"Whatever," Louis says again, downing the rest of his drink and pouring another. Nick watches him warily.
"Might wanna slow down there, darling," he says.
Louis smiles. "Want another?"
"Yeah," Nick sighs. "Fuck it."
Louis is starting to feel warm and loose. He grins at Nick again, sliding the glass back across to him. "If you hurt Harry, I'll kill you," he says through his million-dollar smile.
Nick pauses with his glass in midair again. "What?" he says.
Louis shrugs.
Nick unfreezes, takes a long drink. He swallows slowly, setting his glass down all careful-like. "You think," he says, "that I'm after Harry?"
Louis shrugs again, taking another long drink and staring at the wall behind Nick's head.
Nick's quiet for a moment, before bursting into loud laughter. "Oh, honey, no."
Louis scowls. "I'm not stupid, Grimshaw. I know what old men like you do with little boys like him."
Nick's laughter cuts off shortly and he stares at Louis, shocked, before his face crumples into laughter once more. "Oh my god, Tomlinson," he shrieks.
"Oh, shut the fuck up," Louis says. "Just don't you dare fuck with him."
Nick shakes his head, eyes crinkled into a fond smile. "You are something else, babe."
"I'm a prize," Louis says haughtily.
Nick's still chuckling, staring down into his drink. "You are unbelievable."
Louis doesn't want to let this go without a real answer. "If you're not after him, why the fuck do you hang around with us?"
Taking another drink and avoiding Louis' eyes, Nick shrugs. "You guys are fun? I didn't know I needed to justify being friends with you? Would you rather I stopped? I just might be able to fill my time after the obligatory Louis doesn't like me mourning period."
Louis narrows his eyes. "You're honestly not trying to fuck him? Why not?"
Nick widens his eyes back. "Seriously? A minute ago you were about to kill me because you thought I was!"
"Harry's lovely!" Louis says, offended. "Everyone wants him. Why wouldn't you?"
"Louis," Nick says, exasperated.
Louis shakes his head. "Nope. Walk me through it, cowboy, or no more drinks for you."
"Jesus," Nick sighs. "I don't know. He is lovely. And kind, and funny, and cheeky, and gorgeous. But I just... don't? I don't know. He's a brilliant mate. And, fuck off, if you want him so much, why aren't you together?"
Louis cringes. "Because," he says.
"Because...?"
Louis shakes his head. "In twenty years, if we're both single, maybe. But he's just... I don't know. I don't want to do that to him."
"Do what to him, exactly?" Nick asks.
Louis almost smiles. "Me."
*
Harry's asleep when Louis gets home. Louis opens his bedroom door quietly and slips across the room, pulling the covers back and sliding in next to Harry. Harry shudders in a deep breath and rolls over, throwing an arm around Louis' waist.
Louis closes his eyes and curls into it, pretending for a moment it's something real.
*
Louis wakes up to his mobile buzzing on the mattress next to his head. He glances over to Harry to see if he's awake, and stares right into a bright smile.
"Was I the luckiest boy alive last night and don't even remember it?" Harry asks, delighted, teasing.
Louis rolls his eyes and grins back. He opens the text and it's from Nick. Of course it is, because this is Louis' life. He braces himself for something embarrassing.
if the leprosy isnt catching, want to do brekkie ?x
"Who's it from?" Harry says, watching Louis' expression change.
"Nobody," Louis mumbles, shoving the phone under the pillow.
Harry waits just a moment to lull him into a false sense of security before snatching it. "Oh my god, Lou," he says. "Oh my god, are you and Grimmy fucking?"
"Christ, Harry, no," Louis spits out. "He probably just wants to make fun of me for whatever I said last night."
"Uh huh," Harry says. "And what'd you say last night?"
Louis blushes. "I maybe said some things I shouldn't have."
"Oh no. Lou. No. You didn't," Harry groans, and shoves his face in the pillow.
"Whatever!" Louis says. "You should be honoured I'm protecting your virtue from the big scary old man."
Harry just shakes his head and types something into Louis' phone so quickly that Louis can't gather the mentality to grab it back.
"There," Harry says, smiling.
"Fuck off," Louis grumbles, grabbing the phone and reading what Harry sent.
sounds lovely babe as long as you pick me up :) x
"Oh my god, Harry, you absolute wanker."
Harry grins just as the phone buzzes.
.........yeah ok harold youre not invited
*
Nick does pick Louis up, as it turns out, and they walk down the high street rather awkwardly.
"We've never hung out alone outside of work, you do realise," Louis says after a few moments of silence.
Nick smirks. "Well, we're mates now, so."
"Are we?" Louis asks. "How do you figure that?"
"You got drunk and told me your problem with me, I cleared up the whole situation, and now there's no reason why not," Nick recites smoothly.
Louis is silent for a moment. "I still don't understand why a thirty year old man is hanging out with a bunch of twenty year olds."
Nick grins wickedly. "You're cute, babe, but you're not twenty anymore."
Louis elbows him sharply in the side. "Arsehole. Closer to twenty than you'll ever be again."
Nick just laughs. "Let's get croissants."
"Posh," Louis says, pulling a face.
"Delicious," Nick corrects as he guides Louis into a bakery.
They sit close to the window and Nick expertly tears off a piece of his croissant and dips it in his hot chocolate. Louis watches, disgusted.
"This isn't breakfast," he says. "This is a coma."
Nick rolls his eyes. "What do they eat where you're from, then? Gravel and cinnamon?"
"You can't get through the day on bread that's more air than anything!"
"Louis," Nick says patiently, "you don't work until eight o'clock in the evening. I guarantee you'll be able to hold onto your stamina until lunchtime. Have a damn croissant."
"You know nothing about my stamina, Grimshaw," Louis says.
Nick winks. "Just say the word, love," he drawls.
"So, really. Why are we here?" Louis asks.
Nick narrows his eyes. "Because we are friends. Dammit, Tomlinson, are we going to have to get matching teeshirts or something?"
Louis considers this. "Only if I choose them. Your fashion sense is frankly appalling."
"You're in public with me," Nick says. "Are you embarrassed?"
"Dreadfully," Louis responds. "Literally if anyone I know sees us, I'm ducking under the table."
Nick slides a wounded expression onto his face. "I'm going to have to blog about how the cute boy in my english class won't talk to me in public," he says, punctuated with a heaving sigh.
Louis just shakes his head and takes a tentative bite of the fucking croissant. He chews slowly, before swallowing and looking at Nick suspiciously. "You're not going to take me to a fucking art museum or summat, are you?"
Nick grins winningly. "As a matter of fact, my mate's got a show opening today and it's just around the corner."
Louis glares at him. "We are not friends."
*
The gallery is a large white room with massive pillars in hugely inconvenient places. The paintings on the wall are graphic, colourful, and life-sized depictions of men in various stages of undress, and, as they walk further through, various stages of arousal and fornication.
Louis shoots Nick an evil look. "You took me to a porn show," he accuses.
Nick's eyes are wide as he takes in the scene. "I honestly had no idea, I'm not fucking with you."
"Bullshit," Louis says, staring at a startlingly lifelike oil painting of a man, bent in half, with the head of his own dick touching his lips. "That's not even possible, is it?"
Nick tilts his head, considering. "I mean, I guess it'd depend on flexibility and, you know, size," he says thoughtfully. "Have you ever tried?"
Louis flushes. "I-oh, fuck off. Who hasn't?"
The corners of Nick's mouth tighten as he tries not to smile. He arches an eyebrow down at Louis. "No success, then?"
Louis turns away, walking to the next painting. "Can't be that awesome doing it to yourself, though, can it? I mean, you have to do all of the work, deal with the mess, and be stuck in a supremely uncomfortable position, right? And," he says, turning back to Nick, "at your age, that could do some lasting damage to your back, mate."
Nick ignores that, moving to stand beside Louis again, their shoulders and arms brushing lightly. "One could argue the same for giving someone else head, too, though, right? Are you saying you don't do that, princess?"
Louis grins wickedly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, glancing up at Nick through his eyelashes.
Nick stares at the painting in front of them with dark eyes. It's depicting a very interesting angle of a rimjob, and Louis blinks a bit before looking down at the floor. A couple comes up next to them, talking quietly to each other, and Nick leans down, grazing his hand across Louis' lower back and whispering in his ear, "How many people here do you think are taking notes?" he asks lowly.
Louis fights back a shudder and something tight, hot, and unpleasant twists in his stomach. "Are you?" he shoots back, raising an eyebrow challengingly.
Nick makes a small noise in his throat. "I really wasn't expecting this," he says. "Completely forgot my bloody notebook."
"Pity, that," Louis says.
"Grimmy!"
Nick and Louis turn around, seeing a tall, slight, pretty man walking toward them, bouncing excitedly, almost gracefully. "Grimmy, you son of a bitch, you didn't tell me you were coming!" he exclaims, as his eyes travel from Nick to Louis. He brightens even more. "And look what you've brought me!" he purrs.
Nick's hand tenses, still on the small of Louis' back. Louis steps away from Nick slightly, nodding to the man. "Louis," he says, holding out his hand.
The man grins delightedly. "Alex," he says, shaking Louis' hand and winking, before looking back to Nick. "Grimmy, what a delicious opening gift, I'm so honoured. If you see anything that inspires you, Louis, please just say the word." He winks lewdly.
Louis fixes his polite smile with some effort, but Nick's lips thin coldly. "Actually, we were just heading out. Sorry, mate," he says, and his hand finds the small of Louis' back again, pressing his shirt against his skin firmly, guiding him towards the door.
"Good show," Nick calls over his shoulder and Louis nods shortly. Alex watches them leave, eyes narrowed.
Once they're outside of the gallery, Nick drops his hand and turns to face Louis, running a hand through his floppy quiff. "God," he says, "Sorry about that."
Louis shrugs. "S'fine."
Nick squints at him, saying, "I can see what you're thinking."
"What?" Louis says, smirking. "What am I thinking, then?"
"You're thinking about how you're used to it and how it'd be weirder if that didn't happen every time you stepped out of your fucking flat," Nick says.
Louis grins, shrugging again. "You said it, not me."
Nick shakes his head. "You make me look bad just standing there, kiddo," he says.
"Actually," Louis says, "I probably make you look awesome. I'm just saying."
"Because your beauty far surpasses mine and random observers should be high-fiving me as we walk down the street?" Nick says dryly, arching an eyebrow.
Louis chuckles. "Don't take it too hard. I'm sure they're also thinking you're very rich, so."
Nick blinks, and then says, "You are actually a devil child, Tomlinson."
"Whatever," Louis says, laughing a little. "I need to get back, but I guess this was fun?"
"You guess," Nick repeats flatly. "Cheers."
Louis grins and elbows Nick in the ribs. "Come on, Prince Charming. Drive me home. Harry'll be there, probably."
Nick nods a little, cutting a sharp look at Louis. "Maybe I should be trying to sleep with Harry," he says. "At least Harry is nice to me."
"Harry's nice to everyone," Louis replies loftily.
"And you're not?"
Louis raises an eyebrow and Nick snorts. "Fair play," he says.
*
Nick leaves their flat two hours before they're all due at work and as soon as the door closes behind him, Harry turns straight to Louis.
"You're so full of shit, Lou," Harry says, smiling with his eyes.
Louis blinks at him. "Excuse me?"
"You were not protecting me," Harry answers, laughing. "You were jealous! I cannot believe I missed that."
"I... Excuse me?" Louis says again.
Harry shakes his head. "You want Grimmy to hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear and take you home to his mum and give you back rubs and propose marriage and pop out babies."
Louis opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. "Excuse me?" he says, one more time.
Harry's smile fades slightly and he peers curiously into Louis' face. "Don't you?"
"No!" Louis exclaims. "That's ridiculous. We don't even get along, Haz."
Brow furrowing, Harry says, "It certainly looked like you get along, Lou. I was bloody third-wheeling with my two best mates."
Louis stares at Harry. "All three of us were playing FIFA, Harry. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to third wheel there."
"You honestly don't like him?" Harry asks, frowning a little.
"Er. No?" Louis says. "I mean, to be fair, it's never crossed my mind, but that's pretty telling, so."
"Oh," is all Harry says for a moment. Then, "I'm not usually wrong about you, Lou."
Louis just shrugs. "Sorry?"
Harry just looks at him. He says quietly, "It wouldn't be bad if you did, you know."
Louis looks down at the ground, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "Whatever," he says.
*
The night is decidedly not going well. Before Harry's set, a group of uni girls bought him shot after shot and he downed them, licking his stupid lips and smiling his stupid smile and basically getting them to drop trou right at the bar and Louis couldn't say no, really, because money is money but he was getting furious so Zayn took over and now Niall is nowhere to be found and Louis thinks it's because one of the girls that Harry was playing with had spotted him and now they were playing PacMan or whatever the fuck Niall does with birds and Liam keeps drifting towards the bar, towards Zayn, heedless of the countless underage kids coming through the door and Louis is fucking overwhelmed.
Nick, though. Nick's sober. Which, like, whenever a night even has a slight bad turn, Nick's first move is to get trashed and let someone else deal with the fallout and the subsequent clean-up. And that someone is always Louis.
But tonight, Nick's sober and glancing over at the bar worriedly because Harry's at the end of his regular set and there's no sign at all that he's stopping and it's closing in on two in the morning and Niall's not there to cut him off and if Harry will ignore Nick if he tries anything and Louis' head is killing him and fuck.
He presses the heels of his hands to his eye sockets.
"Alright, love?" drawls a voice from across the bar.
Louis looks up into the leering face of a forty year old man, whose eyes are running over his chest and hips and thighs, then back up to his lips.
Louis takes a deep breath and avoids his gaze. "What can I get you," he says flatly.
The man smirks. "How much for a blowjob?"
A muscle in Louis' cheek jumps. "You've got three seconds to order a drink, mate," he says, letting his eyes scan the room as if bored.
"Ooh, feisty," says the creep. "I like that. Are you a screamer? Do you scratch? Bite back?"
Louis has no idea what his expression looks like, but it must not be pleasant, because suddenly Nick is there, grabbing the guy's shoulder. "Mate, you need to leave," Nick says, all authority.
The guy snorts, looking Nick up and down. "Yeah, in a minute," he slurs. "Gonna get this piece to come with me." He gestures to Louis.
Louis balls his hands behind the bar, fingernails cutting into his palms.
"No," Nick says, voice forcibly calm. "You're not."
The guy steps up into Nick's face. "And who the fuck are you? Is he yours?"
And, see, Louis is usually better at standing up for himself. Louis is the fucking champion of standing up for himself. But tonight all the fight drains out of him and he just looks at Nick, and Nick looks back at him for a brief moment before turning back to this fucking arsehole, who's now prodding his finger into Nick's chest.
"He good in bed?" the guy's saying. "He a screamer? He looks like he can take it hard, can't you, babe?"
Louis just looks at Nick, saying nothing.
"Right," Nick says, and punches the guy in the face.
"Oh, fuck," Louis says, into the moment of silence that always begins chaos.
And then the guy buries his own fist into Nick's stomach, and Nick doubles over, gasping, and Liam's there - thank fuck for Liam - and restraining the guy as his nose pours blood. Everyone's yelling, swarming around, trying to get closer to the action, and Harry's finally lost his audience, so he jumps off stage, heading over to see what's happened.
Liam looks at Louis. "What the fuck happened?" he asks.
Louis opens his mouth and widens his eyes and just shakes his head briefly. "I... he was being rude?" he says.
Liam looks at him hard for a moment, and then nods, seeming to understand. "Alright, mate, you're out of here," he says to the guy, holding his arms behind his back by his wrists, as if Liam were a goddamn cop.
The crowd is dispersing a little, the fight having brought everyone back to reality. The obviously underage kids scarper off, clearly afraid of police being called, while everyone else backs away, realising the music's over and the bartender's shaken and perhaps it's closing time.
Louis rounds the bar and comes to stand next to Nick, who's slumped onto a stool, leaning against the counter. "Fuck," Nick says. "That's what I get for defending your goddamn virtue, I guess."
Louis smiles weakly. "You shouldn't have done that, you fucking idiot."
Nick just shrugs. "I mean. People can't talk about you like that, you know?"
Harry comes up to them, then. "Fuck, mate, what the hell happened?" he asks Nick. "I just had to wrestle that guy into a taxi with Liam and he was screaming about lawsuits and shit. What did you do?"
Nick grins, delighted. "Harry Styles! You think I provoked a man twice my girth into a fight?"
"Well," Harry says, blinking, obviously considering this. "I mean, no, but he did say you threw the first punch."
"Ah, well." Nick nods sagely. "We can't have our Tommo harassed in the workplace, can we?" He throws his arm around Louis's neck, bringing his hand up to pinch Louis' cheek.
Louis squirms away. "Fuck off. I can take it."
Harry's face immediately darkens. "What'd he say to you, Lou?"
Louis just shakes his head. "It's fine. It's over. This knight in shining armour took care of it, I guess."
Harry doesn't look convinced, but he nods, keeping his eyes on Louis. "Well," he says, "I need a drink, lads, what about you?"
Nick says, "God, yes."
Sighing, Louis starts to round the bar again, saying, "Orders?" but Nick grabs his arm.
"No," Nick says, "your shift is over."
Louis shrugs. "I don't mind."
"No," Harry says. "Nick's right. Let's go to ours, yeah?"
"Brilliant!" Nick says, clapping his hands together. "I'll get us a cab."
Louis hesitates. "Wait, though. Who's gonna take care of closing up everything here?"
Nick and Harry turn back to look at him. "Louis," Harry says patiently. "Let someone else do things for you, for once."
Nick eyes Louis curiously after Harry says that, but nods his agreement.
Louis sighs. "Alright, alright. Let's go."
*
An hour and a half later, Louis is spectacularly drunk.
Like, phenomenally drunk.
"Three fuckin' sheets to the wind!" he crows, throwing his arms above his head.
Harry looks at him from the floor, where he's inexplicably playing dead like a goddamn possum, limbs held straight into the air.
Nick just looks at both of them, amused, from his spot lounged across the couch, toes nudging against Louis' thigh.
"Hey," Harry says, slowly. "Hey, guys, I just had the best idea ever."
"Ooh!" Louis yells. "Harry idea! Harry idea Harry idea Harry idea!" He turns to Nick and whispers conspiratorially, "Harry always has the best ideas."
Nick arches an eyebrow lazily, his eyes half-lidded and dark, his lips bitten red, swollen. Louis glances away, taking another drink.
"I think," Harry says, "we should play truth or dare!"
"Truth or dare!" Louis yells, throwing his hands in the air again.
"With three people?" Nick asks. "How's that work?"
Harry stares blearily at Nick. "Are you new? I go like, hey, Grimmy, truth or dare? And then you choose one, and-"
"No, fuckhead," Nick says. "I know how fucking truth or dare works. I was twelve once, too-"
Louis snorts. "But your memories must be getting hazy by now," he interrupts.
"-but I mean, how is it going to be fun with only three people?" Nick finishes, throwing Louis a dark glare.
Louis smiles serenely.
"No, no! It'll be fun. I promise," Harry says. "I'll go first. Lou, truth or dare."
"Dare," Louis says, smirking.
Harry makes a considering sound, glancing from Louis' face to his half-full drink. "Okay. Chug your drink."
Louis shrugs, does so. "Okay. So. Hazza, truth or dare?"
Louis feels warm, light, loose, and his thoughts are jangling around dangerously. Nick's toes are stroking against his thigh and he reaches down a hand to still them, but his hand ends up staying there, just resting.
Harry smiles. "Truth."
"Boys or girls, Harry? Answer honestly now." Louis smiles right back.
Nick laughs. "Whippin' out the big guns, I see."
Harry tilts his head to the side, his eyes going distant and thoughtful. "That's a tough one," he says. "Why do I have to choose?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "You don't have to choose, like, only to fuck one or the other for the rest of your life. I'm just wondering, like, which you prefer."
Harry hums to himself for a few seconds, swaying back and forth. "Girls, maybe? But also boys? But girls. I think. But, wait."
Nick snorts. "Don't hurt yourself, love."
"Whatever," Harry says. "Grimmy. Truth or dare."
"Dare," Nick sighs. "I cannot believe we're doing this. You're such children."
Louis coughs into his hands, and it sounds suspiciously like paedophile.
Harry's eyes turn wicked in a millisecond. "Right. Nick, snog Louis. Thirty seconds, open mouths, real snogging."
Louis' head snaps up and his cheeks flush even more. He stares at Harry.
Nick's gone pale. He says, "What?" and his voice breaks.
Louis chances a glance over at him and Nick quickly meets his eyes before turning back to Harry. "What?" he says again.
"I dared it, and so it is law!" Harry cries.
Swirling his drink in his hand, Nick stares down, before taking a long pull, draining the glass.
"Alright, sailor," he says, licking his lips and raising his head to Louis. "Come on over here."
Louis hesitates, because Nick's sprawled out across the couch lengthwise, and the only way to get in a comfortable snogging position - Louis can't believe this is his life - would be to actually crawl up his body and straddle his hips.
But Nick doesn't seem like he's about to move so Louis shrugs and sets his glass on the table and crawls up his body to straddle his hips.
Nick makes a choked off sound, as if he wasn't expecting Louis to rise to the bait, but Louis smirks down at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Well? Lay it on me, old man," Louis says.
Nick narrows his eyes and pulls Louis down by the nape of his neck, long spider-fingers brushing through the soft hair there. He pauses, barely a breath away from pressing their lips together, and meets Louis' eyes. Louis stares back, before rolling them and crashing his mouth down on Nick's.
It's nice. It's sloppy and wet and neither of them are too concerned about form, apparently, and it tastes a little too much like gin for Louis' comfort, but Nick's hands are large and warm and they stroke down Louis' back, resting on his hips, pulling him in tighter, and Louis groans a little, rocking down, feeling his thighs tense. He brings his hands up to grab onto Nick's hair, clenching and tugging lightly and smiling against his lips when it makes Nick gasp.
Louis pulls back briefly to catch his breath. He stares down at Nick for a moment, who's gazing up at him, flushed, absolutely wrecked, with his fingers still digging into Louis' hips and Louis blinks. He turns to look at Harry.
Harry's still on the floor, but now he's sitting up straight, staring, open-mouthed.
"Oh," Harry says.
"Oh," Louis says, and he's pulling back for real now, rolling off Nick's body and onto the floor. He crawls over to Harry on his hands and knees, burying his face in Harry's neck.
Harry's hands come to wrap around his waist, and he presses a kiss to Louis' hair. "Bedtime, love?" he whispers.
Louis nods and pulls himself up. He avoids Nick's eyes as he picks his way across the living room floor. "G'night, lads," he rasps.
"Night, Lou," Nick says, and it sounds resigned.
*
At some point in the night, Harry crawled into his bed.
Louis realises this the second he blinks into consciousness, because he snorts up a curl and his body is so overheated he thinks he might burst into flame.
"Oi," he says, and then winces because his motherfucking head.
Right.
Right, last night.
Right.
Fuck.
He gropes for his phone to check the time. 9:32 in the morning. That weird grey area between too early and too late.
"Harry," Louis says, shaking him by the shoulder. "Harry!"
Harry mumbles something incoherent and turns over, flopping his face into the pillow.
"Harry!" Louis says again, tickling at his ribs.
"Fuck off, what," Harry grunts.
"Did Nick say anything to you after I went to bed?" he asks.
Harry squeezes his eyes closed. "I dunno, mate. Maybe? I think he was a bit ticked off at me."
"At you?"
Sighing, Harry rolls over to look into Louis' face. "Yeah, me. Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" Louis snaps. "Because we snogged and it was awkward and I kind of drunkenly ran away?"
Harry shrugs. "Didn't look awkward. Was hot."
Louis rolls his eyes. "Did he go home?"
"I think so," Harry says around a yawn. "He said he'd kip here for a few to sleep it off, then head home."
Louis bites his lip. "So I should like. Talk to him. Right?"
"Louis, fuck, I really want to help you through your emotional crisis here, you know I do, but my head feels like a bloody warzone, you know?"
Louis smiles slightly, saying, "Yeah, 'course. Sorry. Go back to sleep."
Harry puckers out his lips in a garish and pathetic air-kiss and rolls back over, immediately breathing steadily and deeply.
Glancing back down at his phone again, Louis unlocks it and hesitantly types a new text.
hey mate. brekkie again ? maybe no porn gallery but i'd like to see you x
After five minutes of locking his phone, unlocking his phone, refreshing his text messages, staring at the ceiling, and playing with Harry's hair, the stupid thing buzzes in his hand.
sounds good. i'll come get you in an hour x
Louis rolls his lips into his mouth and stares at the text, analysing all the possible tones it could have, before shaking himself and slipping into the shower.
When Nick arrives, he's clean and shaven and quiffed another six inches high, looking entirely too put-together in tight jeans and a loose v-neck. He gives Louis a half smile.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," Louis says back. "So, um-"
Nick shakes his head quickly. "Breakfast first," he says, eyes soft. "Gotta get a croissant in me before being let down easy, you know?"
"Oh." Louis blinks. "Oh, no, I-"
"Lou," Nick says. "Breakfast."
Louis nods, and they make their way to the same bakery as before, this time completely silent. It's not awkward, per se, but it's tense, almost frenetic; potential energy crackling between them.
The release of potential energy turns it into kinetic energy, or something. Louis almost snorts at his train of thought.
They get their food and sit at the same table as before.
"So," Louis starts.
Nick holds up a hand. "Can I go first?" he asks.
Louis nods, picking at the flakes of bread on his plate.
"Okay," Nick says. "So you know how you thought for apparently, like, ever that I was into Harry?"
Louis nods and his stomach tightens, dreading this already.
"Okay," Nick says again, nodding back. "I was never, ever into Harry."
Louis stills momentarily, then nods. "Okay," he says slowly.
Nick's looking at him meaningfully, as if there's something he should be understanding. Louis has no idea. "And?" he prompts.
Nick rolls his eyes, then, snorting, "Christ," under his breath. "Okay, boy genius, what I'm saying is, like." He stops and rubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, okay. I've liked you, you little brat. And you seemed to really, really hate me until, like, three days ago? So, I'm sorry if this is going to get weird, or if last night is going to make it weird, or what the fuck ever, but I figure, like, you know. Since last night happened, you probably deserve to know?"
Louis stares across the table at him.
Nick's eyes flit around the room nervously. "So, like, you know, if it's ever like, oh, Grimmy's being a bit weird around me, you can just be like, oh, right, because he's in love with me. Poor bloke. Or whatever."
"You..." Louis trails off. "Really?"
Nick huffs out a sharp breath. "No. No, actually, I'm completely joking. I just thought it'd be a laugh to wind you up," he snaps sarcastically.
Louis feels the corners of his mouth tug up involuntarily. "You're insufferable," he says.
"Yes, well, you look like you're about to laugh at the arsehole who just told you he was in love with you, so neither of us are really at our best right now," Nick says.
Louis just shakes his head, the smile on his face growing. "I was so sure you liked Harry and it bothered me so much."
Nick rolls his eyes again. "Well, sorry for that too, then."
"No," Louis says. "No, I mean. It really, really bothered me. And I couldn't figure out why, so I just, like, blamed your age?"
Nick looks like he's trying as hard as he can not to get hopeful. Louis keeps smiling, looking over at him through his eyelashes.
"But, like, I think I know why it bothered me?"
"Louis," Nick says, "you're going to have to say something like Oh, Nicholas, I want your lovely quiff pressed up against mine within the next ten seconds or I might actually have a coronary."
"Quiff shagging?" Louis asks. "Is that a thing these days? Are you more hip to the sex scene than I am? Frankly, that's embarrassing."
Nick ignores him and says, "Louis."
"Yeah," Louis says. "Yeah, Nick. Right?"
Nick finally allows himself to smile, and it spreads across his face, reaching his eyes. "Right," he says.
After a moment of them sitting in a bakery over stupid fucking posh croissants, smiling at each other, Nick says, "I hope you realise I'm going to hold the fuck out of your hand."
"In public?!" Louis asks, feigning horror.
"I think you'll get over the embarrassment," Nick says confidently.