theme
home is wherever i’m with you; chapter 17.

[prologue[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11 pt.1] [chapter 11 pt.2] [chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [chapter 15] [chapter 16]

fic summary: louis gives his teacher a blowjob and gets sent to boarding school, where he meets an incredibly young and lanky and adorable harry and basically falls in love with him.

rating: mature

warnings: i’m too american for my own good so excuse my mistakes, long chapter again, lack of commas sry

previously: it’s almost harry’s bday and louis’ been a sneaky bugger and harry got uncomfortably hit on by a barista  and louis kneed ben in the balls because he’s an independent woman and also ben preeeettyy much knows he’s gay now

(february 1st)

Harry wakes to the sound of an off key rendition of Birthday by the Beatles.

More accurately, Harry wakes to the sound of Louis and Niall’s voice , screeching in his ear, singing an off rendition of Birthday by the Beatles. A guitar is being strummed, loudly, and the blankets have been pulled off his legs. 

“Where am I,” he croaks, mostly to himself.

He winces as he rolls over, peels an eye open just enough to see a floor length Michael Jackson poster hung flat against a grey wall. 

Ah, yes. Zayn’s bedroom.

Harry closes his eyes as someone climbs on the bed with him and starts jumping near his legs, the sound of Niall’s guitar seemingly magnifying as he flounders closer and closer to consciousness. There’s a crick in his neck and he wants to cry out in pain as the mattress dips and his head flops around helplessly.

Suddenly, a very small creature with unusual strength - who he’s positive is Louis - falls on top of his legs, leaning forward to grab his wrists and, despite his firm grip, shake him gently, whispering hotly against his ear to wake up. He opens his eyes fully, an unwelcomed light piercing at his poor, innocent eyeballs, and a very, very excited Louis staring down at him. 

Louis sits above him smiling broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way Harry finds annoyingly beautiful. He knows he must look like shit right now, can’t imagine what he’s managed to do in his previous life or current life or future life to deserve this look that Louis is currently giving him, like the sun is shining out of his arse rather than the obnoxiously large window beside Zayn’s bed, AKA his enemy.

Louis pinches Harry’s cheeks and bounces on his stomach, chuckling at the way Harry growls at him like a pissed off kitten. “Nana nana nana,” Louis sings shrilly, a smirk stuck permanently on his face. 

“I’m glad it’s your birthday!” Liam shouts suddenly, pushing Louis into the wall (“fucker!”) and taking his place. Liam grabs Harry by the elbows and pulls him roughly into a seated position, much to Harry’s (and his brains) dismay.

“Happy birthday to you!” Zayn finishes, laying across Liam’s lap and planting a sloppy kiss on Harry’s cheek. Harry glares at him, feeling like someone’s just done wheelies on his brain.

Niall jumps on the bed, guitar strap hanging off one shoulder, a blue pick held loosely between two fingers. He falls next to Louis carelessly, plucking at his strings with a practiced ease and counting off loudly. 

Yes we’re going to a party, party!” They chant, and Harry blinks around at them and their stupid faces.

The thing is, Harry thinks he might puke. He wonders briefly why he can’t just be like a normal person and get to sleep his hangovers off, as he should.

At some point they finish singing and they’re cheering and Harry vaguely waves his fist in the air, clearing his throat. Louis jumps forward, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him full on the lips. 

“Happy birthday, love,” he says, still smiling, probably at the idiotic look on his face. 

Not that he doesn’t appreciate Louis’ beauty, because of course he does, but Harry sort of wants to cry because it can’t be past 8 in the morning and Louis looks freshly showered and his hair is perfectly feathered and he’s wearing a very soft looking cashmere jumper that Harry wants to rub his cheek against and Harry thinks he should say something nice but all he manages is, “I need a chiropractor.”

Louis guffaws, grabbing Harry’s hands and dragging him across the bed. Harry thinks he might actually vomit as his brain rattles around inside of his head, spindly fingers wrapping tighter around Louis’ smaller ones for dear life.

“God, you’re such a lightweight,” Louis says fondly, rubbing one hand across Harry’s forehead and down behind his ear. “The second bottle of red probably wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

Harry nods offhandedly, suddenly self-conscious as he looks around and realizes he’s the only one who isn’t dressed, clad only in a pair of boxers. Even Zayn is awake, looks like he’s been awake for awhile now. “Wha’s going on?” He mutters, looking at Louis with a bemused expression. “Why does everyone look all dressed up?”

“It’s your birthday, mate!” Liam bellows. He looks genuinely excited, brown eyes wide with enthusiasm. Sometimes Harry wonders why he associates with Liam.

“Yeah, Haz,” Niall falls down next to him on the bed. “Now you get to know your super secret birthday surprise.” He nudges him with his elbow, a secretive glint in his eyes.

Harry does not like this. The fact that Niall knows something he doesn’t makes him uncomfortable to unfathomable amounts.

“What kind of birthday party begins at…” he searches for his mobile, tangled within Zayn’s velvety red bed sheets. “7:49 in the bloody morning?”

“The best kind, Harry,” says Louis seriously. His blue eyes bore into Harry’s seriously. Harry blinks. “The best kind.”

*

Harry isn’t dumb. Which is why when they all board a bus that’s next stop is Leeds, his natural assumption is that they’re taking him to Leeds.

He’s sitting between Louis and Niall, using Louis’ shoulder as a headrest as he lets the Ibuprofen he’s just swallowed settle in and finish massaging his aching brain or, you know, whatever Ibuprofen does. 

After Louis had dumped him out of bed, he’d practically forced Harry into the shower, reminding him to clean behind his ears and get rid of his awful morning breath. Harry had rolled his eyes and searched for shampoo, only to realize with incredibly out of place rage that his shampoo was missing. Once he’d gotten out (after having been forced to use his back up Herbal Essences shampoo) he’d dressed in a pair of skin tight black jeans and a red jumper. It’s quite loose, and there’s a hole in the sleeve, but Louis likes it on him and it’s the comfiest thing he owns besides the comforter on his bed. 

Liam looks completely pleasant in his seat, chewing on orange slices he packed for himself and bobbing his head from side to side as he sings inside his head. Harry wonders exactly how long this trip is going to be, noticing Niall, Zayn and Liam had backpacks, but Harry and Louis didn’t.

“Excited, Harry?” Zayn asks opposite from him, propping his feet up on his lap.

Harry grins. “Coffee.” He mutters, dreamily.

“I meant for your birthday surprise.” Zayn clarifies, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, yes. Obviously,” he sits up, adjusting the orange beanie smothering his curls. “My beau planned me a birthday surprise.”

Louis squeezes his nose at the stupid voice he pulls and Harry yelps, pinching his cheek in return. Louis bats his hand away, grabbing it and pushing it to his side. 

“Oi, get your dirty paws off of me!” Harry squawks. “It’s my birthday!”

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat and urging Harry to lay back on his shoulder. 

“So, what’s first?” Harry asks, sighing contentedly as Louis brushes his tanned fingers through Harry’s curls, pausing every once in awhile to scratch his scalp in a very soothing manner. 

“Well, first, we arrive at your mystery location,”

“Leeds.”

“Maybe,” Louis says faintly. “Then we will walk to a nameless coffee shop and get some caffeine in you so you can stop being such a slug.” 

Harry grins without opening his eyes. “That sounds perfect.”

“Well, I’m quite perfect, so it’s only fitting.”

“You’re quite hideous, actually,” says Harry, matter-of-factly.

“Quiet, wench.” Louis mutters, flicking his nose. 

*

They get off at Leeds and Harry feigns surprise (“whaaaaaaaat?”), cheering animatedly as he skips along the sidewalks with Niall. Ibuprofen can do wonders, honestly.

Eventually Louis catches up to them, jumping on Harry’s back and resting his arms over his shoulders. (Which, by the way, have gotten quite broad lately.)

It’s a testament to how in touch they are with each other when Harry merely hooks his hands under Louis’ thighs, barely even flinching when the older boy sneaks up on him. Had he done this with Zayn, Louis’ positive he’d end up splat on the pavement with Zayn crying about his hair next to him.

A bell chimes dimly in the background when they enter Genevieve’s and Louis hops off his back, kissing his cheek briefly and handing him his wallet before escaping to the toilets. Harry smirks after him, unzipping his jacket and tossing it on their claimed couch. 

Harry and Liam decide stand in line while Zayn and Niall save their seats, complaining in a way they must think is quiet about how depressing the music is. (“I’ve only been in here for a minute and I feel like a wanna call my mum for a cry.”) 

The only other person in line is a rather dodgy looking fellow with comically large glasses and green hair, and Liam, having never been in this cafe, or Leeds at all for that manner, shoots Harry a worried glance.

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry whispers under his breath, laughing quietly. 

Though he can’t see over the guys head, he notices the barista taking his order has blonde hair, and Harry wonders briefly if it’s the same barista as last week, the one who winked at him before he promptly ran for the hills. Surely, he can’t be that unlucky, though. Surely that’d be all different levels of curel.

Surely not, he realizes bitterly, as Green Hair slithers out of line and reveals The Barista, neck tattoo and all. The Barista lights up when he recognizes Harry, looking quite cheery as they stand in front of the counter. Harry stares at him in something like polite horror, waving uncomfortably. 

“Is he wearing eyeliner?” Liam whispers, almost inaudibly. 

“Hey!” The Barista chirps, smiling at Harry for a moment too long before he notices Liam. “Back again? I’m starting to think this is some Saturday tradition for you.” He laughs. 

“Kind of,” Harry responds, shrugging. 

“Different lad, I see. What a player.”

Harry lets out a strange noise, looking at a blushing Liam briefly before shaking his head. “No, no, he’s - my other friend is by the couches, we’re best mates,” he rambles, wondering why the fuck he was even explaining himself. 

The Barista laughs. “Only joking, love.” He says and Harry’s left eye twitches involuntarily. “You look too sweet to be a heartbreaker.” And then the baboon winks at him - again. Nobody’s ever winked at Harry flirtatiously in his life and now suddenly it’s one after the other. This bloke is just handing out winks it seems. Free winks. I don’t want your winks, Harry thinks, crossing his arms.

“It’s Harry’s birthday,” Liam says, clapping him on the back.

“Is it?” The Barista asks, fixing his fringe. “That’s exciting! I’d feel like a right grinch if I made you pay, now.”

“As you should,” Liam says.

Harry makes a vague gesture before realizing what he was saying. “Wait, what? No, that’s quite alright, really.”

Liam smacks his chest. “Free drinks, mate!” He hisses. 

Harry make a low noise before shrugging, again. He chews on his lip contemplatively. “Is that offer for all my mates, as well?”

The Barista gives him a smile that can be described solely as flirtatious and Harry sighs inwardly, figuring if he has to suffer through this, he might as well get free coffee out of it. 

“Well, I’m not supposed to do this, like at all, but if my boss saw your dimples, I’m sure she’d do the same.” He says easily, and Harry smiles bashfully against his will, blushing. 

Stop it, Harry, get your shit together, a voice in his mind tells him. You’re letting yourself be subjected by a guy with a neck tattoo. 

“It’s Harry’s dimples’ world and we’re all just living in it,” says Liam, poking his cheek. 

The Barista chuckles, leaning against the counter so his hands rest flat against the surface, pushing up his sleeves innocently. However, he’s known Louis (and Liam for that matter) far too long to know this isn’t a thoughtless action. He’s trying to get Harry to look at his arm veins, and guess what, he’s not falling for it.

“So, what can I get for you?”

“One Earl Grey, one Yorkshire, two hot coffees and the closest thing you have to a frapuccino. With extra whipped cream, please.” Harry lists quickly. 

“Sure,” says The Barista, lining up their cups. “You want yours with extra cream and sugar?”

Harry blinks. “Um. Yes.” 

“My name’s Max, by the way,” he says, idly fiddling with a professional looking coffee maker. “In case you were wondering.”

“Good to know,” Harry replies, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Max turns back to fixing their coffees before he hears light footsteps behind him. 

“Done spending my money?” A teasing voice behind him says, arms winding around his neck, and it’s Louis, probably standing on his tiptoes as he speaks. 

Harry’s arm search blindly behind him before finding Louis’ waist, pulling him in closer. “I’ll never be done,” he says. “That’s the only reason I’m with you; for your money.”

Louis pinches his side before sliding his wallet out of Harry’s back pocket. “Then this relationship might not last long,” he mutters. Harry turns to look at him from over his shoulder. “Have you even paid?” He asks, his eyebrows knit together in confusion, checking the contents of his wallet.

“The barista, he. Er,” he mutters unintelligently, scratching his cheek. “Gave us it for free. It’s a birthday thing around here, I guess.” 

Louis shrugs, unconcerned. “Cool.”

Eventually, Louis tires, and lets his arms fall from his shoulder, resting his feet flat on the ground. He leans back against Harry’s chest instead, tapping his fingers against the counter tirelessly. 

The Barista, or, Max, gives them their drinks on a tray, which Liam takes with a quick thank you before finding the lads, leaving them behind.

“Thanks for the free coffee, mate,” Louis says, and Max eyes him with a look of barely concealed disdain. 

“Not a problem.”

Harry turns around and twines their fingers together, dragging Louis behind him. They fall onto the cushions with a dull squeak of the springs beneath them and Louis curls his legs beneath him. There are only two drinks left on the tray and when Harry looks up Liam is giving him a panicked look, his eyes ridiculously wide. 

Harry furrows his eyebrows, picking up his coffee when Liam not-so-subtly points at his own cup.

It’s then that Harry realizes (with a slight wave of nausea) that there’s something written on his cup. In narrow, black letters it reads: Harry, I’ve finally built up the courage to leave you a cheesy note like they do in the movies. To keep it short I think you’re fit, and I’d like to hear your voice on more than just Saturdays. Call me. ps, happy birthday. And of course, because the universe hates him, the message is followed with a 10 digit number that Harry pays no attention to. 

“Zayn!” He squeaks, arm lurching forward without a second thought. “I think I’ve mistakenly picked up your coffee.”

Zayn’s eyebrows furrow, “Er, no -”

Yes, I did, Zayn.” He insists, turning the coffee so he can see the scrawl on letters between the gaps of his fingers. 

“Oh!” Zayn says, eyes wide, the cogs turning in his head. “That’s why it tastes so repulsive. Silly me.”

They swap coffees while Louis sucks distractedly on his coffee shake thing and plays Temple Run 2 on his phone. Zayn’s lips curl into a sly grin as he inconspicuously raises the cup to eye level. 

Harry raises his arm so Louis falls into his side, curling his arm around both of Louis’ shoulders. He wonders how long The Barista has been wanting to talk to him, has been looking at him, thinking how much he wants to talk to him. How would he not notice that? Like, he’s never paid much attention to the bloke. He’s got blonde hair and a decent smile but his nose isn’t cute like Louis’ and his cheekbones aren’t as sharp as Louis’ and he’s extremely pale, unlike Louis’ indecently tanned skin. 

Harry realizes with a pang of guilt that for months he’s been throwing tantrums over boys looking at Louis’ bum, and here Harry is, unintentionally flirting with baristas. And this is his punishment. Actually, it could’ve gone worse. Louis could’ve seen, which is - he doesn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened, then.

Louis curses silently as his character flies off a cliff but smiles up at Harry when he catches him staring, pressing a light kiss against the corner of his lips. “Good?” He asks, referring to his coffee.

Harry nods, taking a sip and hoping Louis doesn’t notice the grimace twisting at his lips. Zayn is such a bloody stereotype, he thinks, the aspiring musician drinking black coffee. What teenager drinks black coffee? What type of person drinks black coffee? Have they no soul?

“Can I have a sip?” Harry asks, pouting at Louis’ sugary drink. Louis gives him a stern look before it melts into something fonder. 

“Fine,” Louis says, holding his cup out for him with both hands. Harry ducks down and takes a generous sip. “Not too much, you greedy bastard.”

Harry pulls off and swallows, licking his lips in a purposeful way. “My birthday.” He mumbles, letting Louis kiss the artificial pout off his mouth. 

“You could get away with anything with a face like that.” Louis’ lips twitch, fighting off a smile.

“Does you buying me waffles fit into the ‘anything’ category?” Harry asks, a hopeful look etched on his face.

“You, Harry Styles, must be a psychic, because that was the exact destination next up on our list.”

“Yes!” Harry cheers, unthinkingly taking a sip of his coffee. 

If Louis notices the disgusted blegh he lets out as they stand up, he says nothing.

 *

The diner is nice, mostly because it’s so inexpensive. But it’s also warm, and they serve especially delicious strawberry waffles. Harry stuffs his face so his cheeks are round and there’s powdered sugar on his lips and Louis thinks God damnit I’m dating an 8 year old but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Louis pays for him and Harry gives him sugary sweet kisses, sticky fingers leaving marks on his cheeks that he tries kissing off. Before the leave, Harry asks for a to-go cup for his cup of unfinished coffee and although they don’t usually do it, Harry pouts and the waitress gives him a kiddie cup with a pink bendy straw. 

The boys sigh, telling him he needs help. Harry tangles their fingers together as they walk out, rosy lips wrapped around his bendy straw. 

It’s noon when Louis leads them further into the city, stopping at little shops along the way. Niall and Harry find a basket full of matching bracelets made out of braided rope and small beads and it’s so understated and simple that Harry falls in love with them, urging them all to buy one so they can match. 

And again, Louis gives in, because how couldn’t he when Harry is looking at him like that?

At around two they find themselves at an ice skating rink called The Ice Cube. Harry’s stomach drops because Harry plus ice skating equals disaster and Louis should know this, he’s seen him trip over his own two feet enough times to be aware of his utter incoordination, let alone on ice skates.

Louis promises him he’ll be fine but Harry ends up falling too many times to count, wobbling along the ice before flailing unsteadily and falling on his arse. ‘I feel like a bloody giraffe on roller skates, Louis. Why am I such a giraffe?

Louis will apologize each time he falls, like it’s his fault that gravity hates him. Unsurprisingly, Liam skates circles around them, while Niall trails behind with a corndog in his mouth and Zayn purposely skates slow to check out a blonde girl’s bum, a sheepish grin on his face once he’s caught.

Harry leaves the ice skating rink with bruises on his bum and scrapes on the palm of his hands, pouting down at his boyfriend, and Louis buys him a cupcake at a nearby bakery to make up for it. 

Later, Louis asks a woman in her twenties with red hair and thick framed glasses to take a picture of them. She gives a quick of course, babe before Louis skips back to where the boys are stood in a sort of line. He wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and kisses his cheek, and Harry blushes so deep he’s sure it’ll show on camera. They take another one, with Niall jumping on Harry’s back and Zayn picking Louis up off his feet. The woman laughs before handing the camera off to Harry and telling him how cute of a couple they are. 

Niall nustles up against Harry’s cheek and smiles. “You’re too kind,” he drawls, and the woman laughs airily, waving at the boys as she struts back toward the car park.

Harry gives Niall a look and pushes him off, shuffling back over to Louis, physically unable to keep his hands off the older boy. Louis leaves his conversation with Liam to kiss him sweetly, insisting they should leave soon for food.

Despite it barely being 4 o’clock, it’s already getting dark out, and Louis curses the wintertime. On a more positive note, it’s not snowing. The streets are quite clear and there’s hardly any ice on the ground, which is good, mostly for Harry.

With a sudden spring in his step, Niall bounces along the sidewalk until they approach a Mexican restaurant that Harry vaguely remembers saying he’d wanted to go to once. Harry pokes Louis’ stomach, giggling.

“I’ve been saying I wanted tacos for ages!” 

“I know.” Louis tries not to look too smug about it. 

They’re seated at a booth in the back and the lighting is dim but not in a dingy way. It’s incredibly loud and very warm, maybe a little too warm, but Harry basks in it. In fact, as Louis scoots in closer to him, it feels quite romantic. 

The restaurant serves food family style so they order anything that looks good, really, shoveling the food onto their plates and more or less shoving it down their throats. It’s weird, being his age, because he’s always been quite eager to pig out when given the chance, but now it feels like he can never eat enough. 

He finishes his plate and holds his stomach with his hands, finishing his water before collapsing against Louis. 

“Still alive?” Louis asks him.

“I feel like I’ve died and gone to food heaven,” he mutters. “Just a suggestion, but I wouldn’t kiss me until I’ve had a piece of gum. At least a dinner mint.”

Louis chuckles and pets his head gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He feels so tired he thinks he could fall asleep right here, in Louis’ arms, and wonders how much longer they’re meant to be out. It’s almost six now. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, kitten, we’ve still got more to do.”

“How much more?” Harry moans.

“Trust me, you’re not gonna be tired once you see it.”

Harry sits back, face scrunched up in confusion. “Wha -?”

He’s cut off by a blaring trumpet, jumping so high in the air his knees knock the table and he nearly falls out of his seat. He whips his head around to find a mariachi band lined up around their table and multiple strangers snickering at him. He blushes, fighting the urge to hide in Louis’ shoulder.

If anything, though, Harry can definitely say he’s awake now. 

*

Louis was 100% right when he said their next stop would wake Harry up.

It’s called the Leeds funfair, and Louis tells him they’re lucky they can go because it’s been scheduled early due to “weather issues”. In front of him is possibly the coolest thing Harry’s ever seen, a scene he’s only witnessed in movies. 

There are bright neon lights twined around every surface in sight and a ferris wheel in the distance. In front is a thing Harry refers to as a spinny-chair thing and behind it are roller coasters and carnival tents with games and teddy bears and Harry wants to cry because this is like, the most perfect thing anyone has ever done for him, ever. 

They’re each given pink wristbands after they pay and Harry runs excitedly to the first ride he sees, trusting the boys will follow him. The rides go by in a blur: first there’s the big bulky one, with separate carts that raise into the air and spin really, really fast until you think you’re going to go flying out, and they laugh the entire time, until their cheeks are bright red and their stomachs hurt.

The second one is a roller coaster, which Harry finds unexciting but it’s an excuse to discreetly hold Louis’ hand in public again so who really cares, anyways? Then they go on the ferris wheel, splitting up because there’s only enough room for four in each and they can’t leave someone alone. It ends up with Liam and Zayn in one cart and Niall, Harry and Louis in another. 

Niall looks out the glass and waves at Zayn and Liam, in the cart below them. 

“This is fucking awesome!” Niall blurts, smiling like a madman. “I mean, I knew it was gonna be awesome, ‘cause I was with you the entire time you planned it, but it’s even better than I thought it’d be.” 

“Is that what you two were doing?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised. “Walking around Leeds planning my birthday?”

Louis shrugs. “Sort of, yeah. Needed someone to help me, and Liam can’t keep a secret for shit, and Zayn would rather fist fight a cactus than spend multiple days walking around with me talking in his ear all day. So, Nialler was the obvious choice.”

Harry urges himself not to lunge forward and kiss him senseless, grips onto the armrests on either side of him.

Niall screams for no apparent reason as the wheel comes to a stop, laughing as Louis jumps out of his skin. “Ni, would you mind taking a picture of Louis and I?” Harry asks suddenly, handing Niall his phone before he can answer.

“‘Course.” Niall responds, aiming the lens at the pair. 

“Make sure to get the lights and stuff in the back.” Harry says.

Niall scowls. “You ruined the picture flapping your damned mouth! I know how to take a good picture!” 

Harry holds back a laugh as he settles back into Louis’ side. He tells himself to smile before he realizes he already is, probably has been all night. He feels Louis’ soft lips against his cheek and it grows wider, fingers digging into Louis’ side.

“Perfect,” says Niall, handing over the phone. “That’s background worthy, mate.”

*

“Where are we off to now?” Asks Harry in disbelief, a bright blue teddy bear under his arm and a stick of pink cotton candy in his other hand. 

“Our last stop of the night,” Louis informs him, grinning ahead. 

Harry glances at Niall, who looks about the same as Louis does. 

What.

Zayn’s feet are dragging as they practically crawl down the sidewalk leading up to their final destination and Liam’s eyelids are drooping. 

“This place has got good coffee,” Louis says, placing his hand on the small of Harry’s back and leading him into a building he didn’t have a chance to notice the name of. It looks a lot like a pub, however, the brick building taller than it is wide. 

Harry is confused at first, noticing a small lobby, a receptionist’s desk, and an even tinier bar.cafe section to the far right. Niall drags him over to one of the tables as Louis talks to the woman at the front desk.

“Time for prezzies!” Zayn hollers, placing his rucksack on the wooden surface of their assigned table and digging out a small, decently wrapped box. Zayn and Liam sit across from him, digging through their bags as well. 

When Louis comes back, he sits in between Zayn and Liam, resting his chin on his hand.

The first gift he opens is Zayn’s, a complete box set of Oscar Wilde’s works, and Harry squawks in amazement and surprise before lunging forward to hug him. 

“You’re killin’ me, man!” He coughs just as Harry releases him, a wicked grin stuck on his face. 

The next is from Liam, a plaid cream colored bowtie labeled Burberry. Harry gasps in shock, looking at Liam with a dumbstruck expression before hugging him as well and saying thank you about a million times in a row.

Lastly, because Louis’ probably just spent an obscene amount of money on him, Niall hands him his gift, much bigger than the rest. It looks hastily wrapped but Harry doesn’t mind it because it wouldn’t be right if it was done any other way.

Niall gives him a photo album; it’s simple and black with the word LADS written across the cover in silver letters. He opens it immediately, recognizing with a choked back laugh/pathetic sob a picture from the first day of school back in September. 

“I mean, I know it’s only February, but I take pictures like. All the time. So this is like our half way mark.” Niall tells him, leaning on his forearms to examine his work. 

He flips the pages, biting his lip. It’s them, like. Harry hanging upside down off his bed in his boxers and Zayn with Niall on their first trip to Leeds and Liam in his uniform at chorus rehearsal, giving a thumbs up while Harry flashes the camera behind his back. There’s the first ever picture of Louis, sitting uncertainly around the fire on Harry’s lap, and Harry and Louis playing football on the back hill, and Zayn drunkenly passed out in the middle of their hallway, Harry not too far behind him. Memories he’d forgotten about ‘til just now, the scenes running through his mind like they were yesterday. 

“Aw, Ni. I think I may cry.”

“I wanna see!” Louis says, pulling the book toward him as Harry leans over to hug Niall. “Oh, babe, look how much shorter your hair was. Oh - look! Look at us, you were barely any taller than me here. Those were the good ol’ days.”

Zayn snorts, looking over his shoulder. “I actually cannot wait ‘til spring so we can get back to our spot. Miss it out there.”

Harry nods in agreement. “Has anyone bothered to go out there and take the seat cushions inside?”

He receives blank stares in return and rolls his eyes. “Alright, that’ll be fun to deal with, then.”

Louis scrunches his nose and lets out a faint, ‘ew’ before turning the page.

It’s 9:30 when Harry checks his phone.

“Are we heading out soon, Lou? I fear I may actually fall asleep in my seat.”

“Oh, right,” Louis says, a secretive sort of glint in his eyes. “Time for my proper birthday present to you.”

“What?” Harry crows, throwing his hands up. “Louis, you’ve just spent your entire day on me, what else could you possibly do? Pull the bloody Queen out of your arse?”

Louis guffaws, standing up and climbing over the table. He sits on Harry’s lap and crosses his legs before turning to the other boys.

“See you, lads!” He says, waving dramatically. Niall rolls his eyes, and they all pile in to have an awkward group hug around Harry’s chair. 

“Wait, what?” Harry asks bemusedly as they crowd around him, stuck. “Where are they going?”

Louis grins, pulling something out of his backpocket before placing it in the palm of Harry’s hand. The boys laugh at the expression on his face. 

It’s a roomkey. 

*

Harry didn’t even know this fucking place was a hotel in the first place. He feels like he’s dreaming when Louis takes him by the hand and leads him to the elevator, looking way, way too smug about surprising him.

He’s not exactly sure what the point of renting a hotel room is. This isn’t exactly The Plaza, so the room service can’t be that extravagant. Not that he’s complaining, because he is not. This is fucking incredible. 

The elevator stops with a ding and Harry drags his feet down the hall, his teddy bear and presents still bundled in his arms. Louis stops at room 25 and plucks the roomkey out of his hands, swinging the door open before literally scooping Harry off his feet and carrying him inside bridal style. Harry makes a small noise, squeezing his impossibly long body so it fits through the narrow doorway.

The room is - it’s very white, with a simple desk and a small bathroom to the right, the main objective of the room being the king size bed placed in the middle of the room.

“Louis.” Harry says, observing the pink rose petals on top of the comforter. The red comforter. Next to the bed are two suitcases and suddenly Harry’s missing shampoo bottles make a lot more sense. 

“Yes?” Louis asks innocently, dropping Harry onto the bed. He drops his belongings unceremoniously onto the floor, still sort of bouncing as Louis climbs onto the bed, making himself comfortable by the sea of pillows.

“This. Is. Ridiculous.” He says, picking a rose petal out of his hair.

“Not quite the reaction I was looking for…”

Harry throws off his coat, immediately seeking out Louis on the bed. “No, no. Like. I mean. It’s - amazing. You’re amazing. I just - this is so much? How did you afford it?”

“Unimportant, Harold. I’ve been saving my money up for something special, I just didn’t know what. This seemed appropriate.” 

Harry smiles into the mattress, closing his eyes. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while,” Louis says, letting his fingers curl around the fabric of Harry’s jumper. “Haven’t snogged you once all day, you know. It’s been quite the struggle.”

“After this, you can pretty much have whatever the hell you want,” Harry tells him, moving to straddle Louis’ lap. He looks at him for a long moment, grins because when he’s this close up, he can see the slight freckles on his nose. Louis sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, waiting for Harry to move. 

Harry sucks in a breathe and curls a hand around the back of Louis’ neck, ducks down to press light kisses over his nose and his cheeks, and Louis’ grip on his jumper becomes stronger, needier. “Harry,” he murmurs, tipping his head back, searching for his lips. 

Harry nods, pressing their lips together, and Louis makes a low noise in the back of his throat. The kiss turns heated abruptly, and Louis moves his fist to Harry’s hair, pulling him in impossibly closer. Their lips move together slowly until it’s just a tangle of needy tongues and carnal moaning that’s making Harry painfully hard in his jeans.

He pulls away with a sharp breath and Louis’ fingers find the hem of his shirt, telling him to lift his arms before yanking it off his body and tossing it behind him. Louis’ free hand falls onto Harry’s chest, rubbing a thumb over his nipple before twisting it, forcing a very embarrassing moan out of Harry. Louis smirks, biting his lip as he does the same to his other one.

Harry lets his head fall onto Louis’ shoulder, breathing raggedly as Louis presses down on his bulge, cupping it and squeezing until Harry is moaning hotly in his ear. “Want me to touch you?” Louis asks calmly.

“God yes,” Harry blurts out, fingers scrambling to unzip his jeans. Louis chuckles as Harry kneels in front of him, pushing the incredibly suffocating fabric down his thighs and almost sighing in relief. Louis licks his lips, hand teasingly playing with the elastic of Harry’s boxers before dipping inside, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s hard length. Harry curses softly, holding onto Louis’ shoulders.

Louis watches Harry carefully, pressing down on his erection with the heel of his hand, pumping his fingers along his length until he can’t keep his eyes open. He tells Harry to push down his pants and he does as told, too far gone to hear the soft gasp Louis lets out. He’s hard and leaking in his hand, the head of his cock swollen deliciously, and Louis resists taking him in his mouth. Harry is shaking above him, stomach muscles tensing. He brushes his thumb over the head of his cock, pressing into his slit, and Louis can see the veins in his neck bulge. 

“Don’t come yet,” Louis mutters, chewing his lip. 

Harry growls in frustration and it’s ridiculously adorable and out of place considering the situation. “Why not?”

“I’ve got one more surprise for you. I was gonna wait a little bit longer to show you, but you’re about two seconds from coming on me, so.”

Another?” Harry’s eyebrows furrow as he falls off Louis’ lap, legs splayed out in front of him. 

Louis giggles, rolling off the bed and unzipping his suitcase, rummaging through their belongings. He tosses something on the bed and Harry grapples for it, holding it in front of his face.

Harry scoffs. “Strawberry lube, Lou? That’s my surprise?”

“Quit jumping to conclusions, Mr. Rudeness,” Louis says, ripping off his shirt and trousers, pants tented obscenely. “Technically, it’s not for you anyways.” 

“Is this the part where you pull the Queen out of your arse?”

Louis kneels on the bed in front of Harry, leaning down to kiss him roughly. Harry makes a deep noise in the back of his throat, scooting closer. “No, love,” Louis says lowly. “This is the part where you lube up those pretty little fingers of yours and stretch me nice and wide for your cock. I know I’ll be needing it.” He says easily, eying Harry’s hardness with a quick raise of his eyebrows. 

Harry is rendered speechless as Louis pushes his boxers down his thighs and bends forward, back arched and forearms resting against the pillows as he sticks his arse in the air. 

“Are you - serious?” He stutters, his knuckles white around the pink bottle in his hand. 

“Quite.”

“O-okay,” Harry murmurs, fingers shaking as he tries to unwrap the plastic covering the lube’s cap. He fumbles with it for around 30 seconds before he finally gets it, ignoring the way Louis watches him amusedly over his shoulder. He realizes suddenly he’s still got his trousers on and sets the bottle down. It’s quite a lot of effort getting them off, but he’s done this more times than he can count, so it’s not that much of a task.

Harry kneels behind Louis’ thighs, biting back a moan at the sight in front of him. Louis’ body is the epitome of sexy and he’s completely positive that there is no way he’s going to make it through this without coming all over himself. He sits there for a moment, a very long moment, staring at the way his shoulder blades jut out (Harry wants to bite them), the bow of his spine and the cinch of his waist, and the way his waist smoothly expands into the roundness of his bum (which he also wants to bite).

He’s never seen a bum like Louis’, not in any porn he’s ever watched or any girl he’s ever seen on the cover of a magazine. It’s like - fucking perfect. Grabbable, he’d say. Harry notices his mouth has gone completely dry as he uncaps the lube and splashes it over his fingers. 

Louis’ hands reach back to pull his cheeks apart and Harry cannot help the noise he makes, a small, choked whimper. He’s not even touched Louis yet and he thinks he may actually faint.

“Touch me, babe,” Louis mutters, arching his back and pushing his arse back, like it’s a prize he’s presenting to him. 

Harry nods to nobody as he rubs his fingers around Louis’ rim, first rubbing it up and down to spread the liquid before moving his fingers in circles. Louis makes an appreciative noise and readjusts his hands, which has Harry nearly swooning. 

“Do you - use your fingers, ever?” Harry asks.

“Sometimes.” Louis says simply.

“Can I - are you? Erm. Like. Tight?”

Louis huffs a laugh, spreading his knees. “I’ve been fingering myself since I was fourteen. Safe to say I’m used to it.”

“O-oh. That’s - okay.” Harry stutters, pushing down lightly with one finger. It’s tight at first and Harry could cry because you said you were used to it

“Babe,” Louis says, almost desperately.

Harry moves his finger further inside of him, gently moving it around. “When was the last time?”

“What?” he says, like he had been holding his breath. “Oh. December? Maybe.” Harry makes a considering noise before pushing his finger into him, up to his knuckle. Louis groans, pushing back against him, and Harry curls his finger briefly before pushing in all the way. “Yes. More, Harry.”

Harry pulls out all the way before pushing two in, feeling the tight heat of him slowly allowing him access. His drizzles a bit more lube between his cheeks and lets the clear liquid run down, twisting his fingers before forcing them in even further and curling them upwards. Louis cries out, dropping his hands to the bed so he can grab onto the sheets.

“What did you think about? In December?”

Louis is silent. “Um,” he speaks slowly. “I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall?” Harry asks, fucking him with his fingers now, Louis pushing back against them greedily. “The first time I fingered myself was before we were even together.” 

Louis’ breath hitches, biting his lip. “Really?”

Harry shutters before scissoring his fingers, bending forward and planting soft kisses along Louis’ spine. Louis shivers as his breath ghosts over his skin, back arching beneath his touch. “One day, in class, you were bent over our table, looking at my notes I think. You were breathing on my neck and I got so hard I had to excuse myself to the toilets. When I got to my room later, I thought about you bending me over a table, fucking me.”

Shit,” Louis hisses.

“It hurt but I came so fucking hard. After that I was like a man obsessed.” He says, squeezing three fingers into the smaller boy. 

“I thought about the first time you deep-throated me. In December.” Louis finally tells him, touching his cock. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so - so innocent, just like, doing anything to please me.”

Harry fucks his fingers in faster until Louis is a whining mess, head hanging low between his shoulders. “Are you gonna fuck me?” He asks in a broken voice.

“Wanna do a lot of things to you right now,” Harry says honestly.

“Well, we have a whole 20 hours to do all of those things.”

“Fair point,” says Harry, slowly pulling out his fingers. Louis flips over so he’s sat on his bum, pulling Harry in for a long kiss. Without pausing, Louis draws back and moves to Harry’s cock, taking him in his mouth easily. Harry makes a surprised noise, hips bucking into his throat.

Louis spends a minute working on the head, tonguing the slit and tasting him, before covering his entire length. He hums around him like he’s enjoying it himself until Harry is so achingly close he has to grab a fistful of Louis’ hair and pull him off. 

“Sorry,” says Louis, utterly unsorry. He takes the lube into his hands and pours it over his fingers, covering Harry’s length with it. “Whatever you do,” Louis says meaningfully. “Don’t be gentle with me.” 

He returns to the position he was in before, smiling over his shoulder at Harry as he wiggles his bum, patting it gently. “Come, come.”

“Wait, um,” Harry sits unsurely at the end of the bed. 

“Yes?” Louis asks inquisitively. Harry looks longingly at his bum. “It’s your birthday, love, what do you want?”

Harry silently plays with his finger, looking contemplative. “Want you to ride me,” he says finally, trying to sound confident, and Louis’ eyebrows shoot up.

“Well alright.” Louis is smiling when he rolls over, laying in an odalisque pose as he waits for Harry to lay beside him. Harry grins through the striking blush on his cheeks, crawling next to him. They kiss slowly as Louis pushes Harry onto his back, following him so he’s straddling his thighs. 

Harry’s heart is beating so fast right now he thinks it may jump out of his chest, because this is real, and though he knows Louis’ not a virgin, technically Harry is still sort of one, as he’s never fucked anyone, only been fucked. This is the first time Louis is letting him take control and it means a lot but the thought of messing it up by coming in seconds leaves him mildly anxious.

Their lips part and Louis sits up straight, Harry’s cock in his hand and holding it below his entrance. Harry grips on to the bedsheets like it’ll help somehow.

It doesn’t, because as soon as Louis lowers himself onto his cock, his entire body jolts in pleasure. His toes curl and his front teeth dig into his bottom lip while Louis moves forward to rest his hands on Harry’s chest, leaning his weight against him. 

Harry watches Louis as he moves, as his hips roll, fucking himself onto Harry’s cock, moaning above him. “You’ve got a lovely cock,” Louis breathes, gripping the base of his own tightly and moving his hips in short circles. 

“Thanks,” Harry responds,  eyes wide as he watches the way Louis moves. Does he look as good as Louis when he does this? 

Belatedly Harry realizes he’s not moved once during this entire thing. He holds Louis’ hips and bends his knees slightly, digging his fingers into Louis’ skin as he bucks up into him forcefully.

Louis lets out a loud sob immediately, curling over and begging him to do it again. Harry bites his lip in concentration and does as he’s told, marveling in the way Louis unravels in front of his very eyes. “Oh fuck,” Louis mutters, eyes shut. He’s so close he’s given up all hopes of looking sexy, instead resorting to simply bouncing up and down on his cock as Harry moves with him easily. 

“Coming,” Louis mutters, although the warning isn’t all that necessary when he’s coming all over Harry’s chest a second later. Harry loses it then, wondering as he comes inside of Louis how he even lasted that long. He groans beneath him as Louis slowly moves his hips, riding out both of their orgasms. 

Louis lifts up off his knees when they’ve finished and falls beside him, immediately reaching over the bed for his t-shirt, cleaning off his stomach before Harry has the chance to wipe it on the sheets like he usually does. Harry holds his wrist, though, running his fingers lazily through the mess he’s made and putting them in his mouth. 

Louis’ jaw drops idiotically, watching as his boyfriend sucks his come off his fucking fingers. “Jesus Christ,” Louis whimpers, dropping the t-shirt and pulling him into a rough kiss. Harry’s fingers move between Louis’ legs, feeling the come that’s dripping down his backside. 

Louis makes a weak noise of protest as Harry dips his fingers back into his hole, pushing all the way inside before Louis has to bat him away, completely overstimulated. 

“Not yet, love,” Louis says lightly, kissing him again. 

He pushes Harry’s hand away when he’s done and lays down next to him, curling into his side and resting his head on Harry’s warm chest. 

 

“That was fucking amazing,” Harry states after a minute. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of you riding me out of my head.”

“Yeah?”

“S’like permanently engrained in my brain, I think.”

Louis laughs. “I wish you’d taken a picture. We could’ve added it to your photo album.”

Harry chortles, looking at the ceiling. “Niall would love that.”

“Perhaps too much.”

“‘Aw, lads. You two are so cute togeder.’” Harry mimmicks.

“‘Look at yer faces in dis one. Dese are deh moments we need remember.’”

“‘Ain’t love grand?’”

Harry cackles, letting his head fall to the side. Louis stretches his neck out to leave a soft kiss on his lips, smiling widely in return. He falls back to his previous position, running the tips of his fingers along Harry’s stomach.

It’s relaxing, too relaxing, and Harry’s eyes fall shut as all of the walking he’s done today catches up with him. His lips part just barely, breathing heavily. “Just going to let my eyes rest…” He mutters.

“‘Course.” Louis nods, smirking as he lets his eyes shut as well. 

“Not falling asleep.”

“Definitely not.”

“‘Cause I wanna do that again, soon.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. My eyes are just resting.”

“Gotcha.” 

It only takes ten minutes for Harry to start snoring. Louis thinks he couldn’t be anymore in love.

———

hi i know some of you super hate top!harry but idk i love bottom!louis and a lot of people do so yolo

also this is basically harrys outfit just w/ orange beanie

image

  1. oopsstory reblogged this from boolondon
  2. thatoneoddkid reblogged this from boolondon
  3. fallingoutoftouch reblogged this from boolondon
  4. larry-stylinson-ftfw reblogged this from too-old-for-this-ship