Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hello, lovers!”

About half of the group huddled near the bench turn their heads at the greeting Niall calls out as she approaches. She feels a rush of sympathy for her friends who have to play in the crisp morning air; the light breeze has her shivering in her cardigan and she clutches her paper coffee cup to her chest as she strides toward the field. The kickball league that they all signed up for months ago had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that the schedule has been released and nine o’clock games on Saturday mornings have become a reality, Niall is sure she’s not the only one on their team with some regrets. 

“You’re late.” Louis, Niall’s best friend and favorite ex-girlfriend, crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, staring Niall down. Her wife, affectionately known as Hot Luke (for reasons obvious to the naked eye), ruffles her hand through Louis’ short brown hair, but Louis remains unmoved.

“Sorry, sorry,” Niall says, swallowing a laugh at Louis’ pout. “I told you, I had to go out with my sister and the rest of the bridesmaids last night.”

The umpire blows her whistle from home plate, drawing attention from both sides of the field. 

Louis shakes her head, pointing at Niall as she says, “I better hear you cheering from the stands,” before she jogs away. 

Now that their fifth inning stretch has ended, the players, suited up in blue shorts and t-shirts, set down their water bottles and what looks like snacks of orange slices, and everyone else heads over to the stands. They sit in groups of two and threes, most in beanies and some with blankets. Niall settles next to her friends Liam and Shawn. The decision not to play had been made for Liam this week; the girls voted to rotate her on and off the bench in an effort to combat her addictive personality. Shawn, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to decide whether or not to play by the time sign ups closed, so she’s a spectator by default. And Niall had anticipated a grueling hangover following the makeshift bachelorette party the night before, so their friend Zayn had agreed to play after Niall promised to put together some IKEA furniture for her. 

“So, Ni,” Liam says, her eyes focused on the field, “how was it last night?”

“Yeah,” Shawn says, looking over at Niall with a wide grin. “Was it all, like, penis straws and cosmos?”

“Actually, yes,” Niall says, breaking into a laugh. “And everyone kept apologizing to me? Especially when they passed out the penis shaped lollipops.”

“You’re joking,” Liam says, finally tearing her eyes away from the game. “Did they…”

“Make a game out of going down on them? Yes, yes, they did.”

Shawn winces. “That sucks that you had to go.”

“It’s okay,” Niall says, shrugging and taking a sip of coffee. “I feel better now about not going on the bachelorette trip to Nashville. I told my sister, ‘I love you, but I don’t love you that much.’”

They both laugh at that, and Niall is pretty sure they think she’s joking, but she absolutely is not.

“Was it fun at all?” Shawn asks, running a hand through her mop of dark curls. “You know some of her friends, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Niall says, nodding. She glances at the field to see that Louis is trying to sign something to Zayn, who looks completely checked out in left field. “From birthday parties, things like that. And it was fine, it was just awkward. Like, they started talking about whether they’re dominant or submissive during sex, and when they got to me, I tried to explain that sex with women is just different. If I really wanted to blow their minds, I could have told them how much better it is, how everyone gets to come each time.”

“Spoken like a true top.”

The remark comes from the row in front of them and Niall looks down to see who spoke. A girl with chin length brown curls and a playful smile twists at the waist to look up at her.

Harry.

Niall gets a little lost in the gleam in Harry’s green eyes as Liam and Shawn laugh beside her. She’s known Harry for a few years, but not well, existing on opposite ends of the same friend group. It’s like they’ve been orbiting around each other, attending the same brunches, concerts and now kickball games, but mostly interacting through averted glances and shy smiles. The few times that Harry has replied to Niall in the group chat, she’s lost sleep analyzing each word, teetering on the edge of belief that Harry likes her, only to pull back at the last second and do nothing about the horrible crush she’s had on her since the moment they met. 

It’s not until Shawn claps Niall on the back that she snaps back to attention.

“What?” she asks, looking around. She can’t help the grin spreading on her face; it happens every time Harry speaks directly to her. “It’s true!”

Harry rolls her eyes, but the grin on her face matches Niall’s. “It’s really not. You come every time? Your partner comes every time? That’s, like, statistically impossible.”

“I mean…” Niall sits back with a smirk. “I haven’t heard any complaints.”

“You know queer women fake orgasms, right?”

“With men, sure.”

“With each other too,” Harry insists, turning fully around on the bench to face Niall. “People think that just because lesbians are mostly working with the same type of body, they magically know how to make each other orgasm and that’s just not true. And when we perpetuate that myth, it makes it harder for all of us to communicate with each other when it’s just not going to happen. And so we fake it. And that’s just not what sex should be like.”

Niall realizes that Liam and Shawn are watching the conversation like they would a game of tennis, swiveling their heads back and forth. If she had it her way, she and Harry would have a bit more privacy when discussing what sex should be like. 

Fuck it.

“So,” she starts, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, holding Harry’s gaze. “What should sex be like, then?” 

The crowd around them erupts in cheers and Niall looks up to see Louis rounding the bases on the field, beaming as their teammates cross home plate one by one. As important as this conversation with Harry is to her (and it is very important), Niall stands up and claps her hands, yelling along with the rest of the crowd as the scoreboard puts them ahead by four runs. When they sit back down on the benches, Harry glances over her shoulder with a shy smile, but she turns back to the game, chatting with their friend Bebe about how ugly the uniforms are. Niall tries to pay attention to the game, but she’s caught in a spectacular spiral of self loathing for the entire last inning, unable to stop thinking about blowing her conversation with Harry. 

Well, really it’s all Louis’ fault for kicking the ball over the fence, but that’s a technicality. That couple of minutes of volleying back and forth about the female orgasm is the most she’s ever talked to Harry. That was her chance, right there for the taking, bundled up on the bench in front of her in an enormous patterned cardigan. And it slipped right out of her fingers. 

Whose bright idea had it been to join a kickball league anyway?

“Hey, everyone,” Louis shouts from the fence by the field. “The brunch reservation is for ten-thirty, so if you’re coming, you better come now!”

Harry smothers a laugh, glancing up at Niall, and Niall outright cackles, assuming that Harry is as tickled by Louis’ choice of words as she is, considering their earlier conversation. And then, with one last lingering look, Harry shuffles down her row, following Bebe over to the parking lot.

“Hey,” Shawn says, nudging Niall to get her attention. “You going to brunch?” 

Niall had been planning on it; as the resident Virgo in their group, she was in charge of RSVPs and making the actual reservation for their large party. But now that she’s missed her chance with Harry, the thought of going home and crawling into her bed to wallow for the rest of the weekend is very tempting.

“Harry’s going,” Shawn adds with an assumed air of nonchalance. “Before you got here, Liam decided to go home and FaceTime Sophia, and Harry said she’d take her spot.”

“Well, obviously, Shawnie,” Niall says, adopting her casual tone. “I mean, I planned it. Of course I’m going. I was always going.”

“Have fun,” Liam says, her knowing smile almost making Niall blush. “Drink a mimosa for me.”

Shawn laughs, readily agreeing, but while Niall’s hangover is much lighter than expected, the idea of drinking at brunch makes her feel a little green. They part ways in the parking lot, Niall giving Shawn a ride since she’d carpooled to the game with Liam. When they arrive at the restaurant, the hostess seats them at a long table in the back. The chaos that ensues when everyone starts picking their seats is pretty typical for them, and Niall wishes she could have brought place cards. She ignores her friends, nabbing a chair at the end of the table, and studies the menu for a few minutes before looking up to see who landed around her. 

Her eyes meet Harry’s, and she wonders if Harry ended up in the seat across from her by chance or on purpose.

Harry smiles when she catches Niall’s eye, ruffling her curls with her long fingers and tweaking the ends. Her hair used to fall well past her shoulders, and from the looks of it, she’s still getting used to the new length. Which, speaking of, Niall hadn’t complimented yet.

“Your hair,” Niall says, gesturing toward Harry and nodding. Wait, that wasn’t a compliment. Niall clears her throat and tries again. “I like it.”

“Oh,” Harry says, lifting her hand to touch the ends. “Thanks. I’m not sure if I do? I took a picture of Phoebe Waller-Bridge to the salon, and I guess it’s the same cut, but I don’t look as much like her as I thought I would.”

“Been there,” Shawn says from her seat next to Niall. “Well, sort of. I really thought I wanted mine super short after I came out, but I hated it. At least it’s finally growing out a little.”

Niall ruffles Shawn’s hair, literally biting her lip to stop herself from saying that Shawn’s girlfriend Camila had probably talked her into the cut before she was ready. In Niall’s experience, there are some things you just have to learn for yourself the hard way.

“Well, I really like it,” Niall says, turning back to Harry. “Your hair. I think you look great. I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Zayn drops into the seat next to Harry, looking much more herself in a worn leather jacket than she had in the team uniform. Her trans flag pin glints in the light, and somehow it doesn’t look out of place against the distressed leather. That’s just Zayn, though; she truly is one of those people who could wear a paper bag and make it look good.

“So,” Zayn says, smirking at her phone. “Liam says you two were having an… interesting conversation at the game.”

“That’s right,” Harry says, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table. “Niall was asking me how sex between queer women should work.”

The sound of a throat clearing draws all of their attention to the end of the table, where a server has appeared, her pen poised over a small pad of paper.

“Hi ladies,” the girl says with a bright smile. Her voice is a bit squeaky and her cheeks are pink, but she gamely forges on. “Can I get you started with anything to drink besides water?”

They manage to give their drink orders and only laugh at the awkwardness when the server has moved down the table. Niall wonders if the moment has passed, but Harry elbows Zayn, nodding toward Niall.

“So, Niall here thinks that women come every time and never fake it.”

“Well, yeah,” Zayn agrees readily, giving Niall a once over. “She’s a top.”

“Oh my God,” Niall laughs, looking around the table. “Will someone back me up here? I was just saying, sex between women is better, that’s all.”

Harry crosses her arms, a funny little wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows, and Niall knows she’s not going to let her off the hook. Louis told her once that the reason she and Harry didn’t work as a couple was because they were both too stubborn. That wouldn’t be an issue for Niall; she’s perfectly willing to be wrapped around the little finger of the prettiest femme she’s ever met. She just has to get through this conversation first.

“Okay,” Niall says, leaning forward. “You want to talk about it, let’s talk about it. I think it’s fair to say that both partners’ pleasure is centered when women have sex. Right? And a woman is more likely to know how to get another woman off. We have the same bodies.”

The server returns with their drinks and takes their food orders before moving onto Hot Luke and Louis, who are sitting in the middle of the group chatting with Selena, who Niall went on a few dates with last year, and her friend Taylor. Niall takes a sip of her matcha lemonade, waiting for Harry’s response now that she knows she won’t let this go. But it’s Zayn who speaks first.

“I think this is a worthy debate, but let’s remember that not all women are made the same, folks.”

Niall can practically hear her pronouncing it like ‘folx,’ the way she always types it. 

“You’re right,” she says, addressing Zayn. “I guess I’ve mainly had sex with people with vulvas, and that’s just been my experience. You know what works because of your own body, and more importantly, you care about what works for your partner.”

“I’m sure you take great care of your partners,” Harry says, a light blush rising to her cheeks. “But an orgasm isn’t the only point of sex. You can have good sex without coming. You can feel pleasure, connection, intimacy. You can have fun. And sex can last hours–”

“Yeah, it can,” Niall says, because she just can’t help it.

“But an orgasm takes a fraction of that time; it’s less than a minute. If you or your partner doesn’t come, does that automatically mean the sex was bad?”

Niall had thought they were just bantering, maybe lightly flirting, but now she can tell that Harry is actually serious about this, and she wonders if the way she’s talked casually or joked about sex before has bothered her. Or any of their other friends.

“No,” Niall replies at last. “It doesn’t. I think I was just, like… equating the orgasm with sex being good as a shorthand or something? Because I do agree with you. I was just being flip, I guess.”

“I think I just get tired of the jokes sometimes,” Harry says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “From everyone. It gets in my head, like there’s something wrong with me or my body if I don’t come. And I hate that.”

“You can’t really control it,” Zayn says, rubbing her hand over Harry’s back. “It takes longer for some people, or what about if you’re on, like, antidepressants?”

“Yeah,” Shawn says softly next to Niall. “That can make it kind of impossible. I’ve heard.”

Niall smacks an obnoxious kiss to Shawn’s cheek in hopes of making her smile, and it works. 

“Well, folks,” she says, lifting her glass in a toast. “I’d like to thank all of you for your thoughts and for giving me a new perspective on how to brag about how good I am at sex.”  

Everyone laughs and they clink glasses, and from there, the awkward tension that Niall’s always felt between her and Harry dissolves. They get caught up in their own little world as brunch continues, talking about the truly terrible TV shows they’re suffered through every episode of for the slightest representation of queer women. Niall has to ignore Harry’s quirk of sticking her tongue out before taking a bite of food, so that she doesn’t start fantasizing about her right there at the table, but she doesn’t think Harry even notices. The time flies by, and when the plates have been cleared and the separate checks have been paid (with a hefty tip from Niall, and hopefully the others, too), Harry clears her throat, seemingly gearing up to say something. Niall waits, her body thrumming with anticipation. This is it.

“So,” Harry starts after a few moments, running her fingers through her curls. “There’s this great flea market nearby.”

“Oh, really,” Niall says, trying to keep a straight face as her heart rate picks up. This is it, this is so it. “I love flea markets.”

It’s not strictly true; Niall would rather pay for something new and right out of its sterilized packaging as opposed to something used and potentially germ-ridden, but Harry doesn’t need to know that. Yet.

“I was thinking of heading there after this,” Harry says, before lightly biting her plush lower lip.

What Niall would do to bite that very lip.

“That sounds like fun,” she says, lifting her glass and draining the rest of her lemonade.

“Yeah,” Harry adds, looking around the table. “It's more fun to go with someone.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Zayn mutters, shaking her head. She points at Shawn across from her. “Shawnie, do you want a lift home? Since these two are obviously going to the flea market from here.”

“That would be great, yeah,” Shawn replies, scooting her chair back. “I’m just going to the restroom, if that’s okay?”

“I’ll go with you,” Harry declares, standing up. She picks up her tote bag, her eyes on Niall. “I’ll be right back, and then…”

“And then you two will go to the flea market,” Zayn finishes for her, rolling her eyes.

Niall glances at Harry, who’s lingering by her chair, and nods. Harry grins, and then she and Shawn wind their way through the tables toward the restroom.

Louis, who had been sitting next to Shawn on her other side, moves into her seat. She sits back, crossing her arms as she faces Niall.

“So,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You and Harry.”

“Yeah,” Niall says slowly, looking over Louis’ shoulder to see Hot Luke trying to hide a smile behind her coffee cup. “We’re going to the flea market.”

“Niall thinks it sounds like fun,” Zayn adds, smirking. “You know Niall, she loves that kind of thing.”

“Listen,” Louis says, leaning forward and resting her elbow on the table. “I actually think you and Harry would be great together. I tried to set you up at Halloween two years ago, remember?”

“It’s so funny that we do that,” Niall remarks, laughing at the absurdity of her married ex-girlfriend trying to set her up with another one of her exes. “Like, you’re my ex and she’s your ex–”

“Yeah, yeah, lesbians are hilarious,” Louis says, waving her hand dismissively. “But if you’re actually going to go out with Harry, you have to promise me something.”

“What?” Niall asks, glancing at Zayn, who holds her hands up as if to declare she’s not involved in this. Whatever this is.

“Don’t break up with her for a dumb reason, okay?”

“Okay? Why would I–”

“Because,” Louis says, cutting Niall off and ignoring Zayn as she starts to laugh, “you break up with everyone for a dumb reason. That’s, like, your thing.”

“Um, no, it’s not,” Niall protests, shaking her head. “Name one time I’ve done that.”

Louis heaves what can only be described as a long-suffering sigh. 

“Barbara. Her favorite show was How I Met Your Mother.”

“That’s actually not a bad reason,” Zayn says, eliciting nods and a couple of laughs from around the table.

Louis holds up her hand, counting off as she continues, “Selena’s a Cancer.”

“Wait,” Selena says, leaning forward and looking down the table. “What?”

“Thanks for that, Lou,” Niall says, giving Louis a capital ‘L’ look as Taylor puts her arm around Selena’s shoulders and everyone suddenly becomes very busy looking at their phones.

“Hailee was homeschooled,” Louis says, not missing a beat. “Ellie–”

“Alright, alright, enough,” Niall interrupts, holding up her hand. She frowns at Zayn and Hot Luke, who are both trying to hide laughs behind their hands, and turns back to Louis. “Maybe I’ve done that. Once or twice. Maybe.”

“Or every single time that you’ve dated someone,” Louis says, shaking her head. “Just promise me, you won’t do that with Harry. She’s a good one, okay? She deserves better.”

“Wait a sec,” Zayn says, tilting her head and looking between Niall and Louis. “Why did you two break up? What was the dumb reason?”

“I met Lukey,” Louis says, jerking her thumb at her wife. “So really, it was the smartest reason.”

There’s a collective “aw” from around the table, and Niall is about to pantomime gagging when she spots Harry and Shawn heading back from the restroom.

“You know what,” she says, standing up, “we’re being really rude. I’m sure they need to turn over this table.”

And without a second look at her friends, she speed walks to meet Harry in the middle of the crowded restaurant.

“Ready to go?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m really excited about this flea market. I hope you weren’t just talking it up.”

Harry’s eyes widen with obvious excitement. “No! No, it’s so great, you’ll see.”

“Lead the way,” Niall says, gesturing with her hand. “Bye, Shawnie!”

Shawn calls out “bye!” after them as they make their way to the door at the front of the restaurant. A teenager is leaning against the front of the building, looking at his phone while the small dog on the leash he’s holding looks up hopefully at Niall and Harry.

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Niall says, bending down to let the dog sniff her hand. She looks up at Harry. “I love dogs, don’t you?”

Harry smiles, but before she can say anything, an older man, maybe the kid’s dad, emerges from the restaurant door with a takeout bag. Niall straightens up, waving to the dog and smiling at his owners before turning back to Harry, who beckons her to walk down the street to their right. Niall’s hand twitches by her side as they walk toward the flea market, and she wishes it weren’t too soon to place her hand on Harry’s back or take Harry’s hand in hers. Harry keeps up a steady stream of conversation about succulents on the way, seemingly unaware, but once they enter the flea market, she grabs Niall’s hand.

“So we don’t get separated,” she explains with a shy smile. “Come on, I really need a rug for my new place.”

Niall lets Harry drag her around the crowded flea market, admiring her as she oohs and ahhs over the junk that fills every vendor’s section. She thinks she’s doing a good job of hiding her reactions to the used furniture and knick-knacks, but after a while, Harry drags her to the side of an aisle with a knowing smile.

“You kind of hate this, don’t you?” she asks, ruffling her hair. 

“I do,” Niall admits with a wince. “I’m sorry! I just like things neat and very, very clean. And this stuff…”

“It’s okay,” Harry laughs, taking her hand again. “Come on, I just want to stop at one last booth, and then maybe we can get coffee and you tell me about being a neat freak. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Niall says, sighing in relief when Harry squeezes her hand.

Their last stop is an artisan who hand weaves rugs, and Niall relaxes as they look around at the wares. Handmade is easier for her to deal with than used. Harry finds a dark green rug that she thinks will look good in her bedroom, and Niall whips her card out before Harry can.

“Niall,” Harry says, crossing her arms. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Niall replies as she scrawls a signature on the screen of the seller’s iPad. “I wanted to.”

After thanking the seller and dropping the rolled-up rug in the back of Niall’s car next to the ladder she keeps there more often than not, Harry takes Niall’s hand and they walk slowly down the busy street. They chat about the kickball game, and how Harry has two left feet so she decided not to play even though it looks like fun. When they’re tucked in the back of a coffee shop, both with iced oat milk lattes in front of them, Harry folds her hand on the table and attempts to give Niall a serious look. 

“So,” she starts, before collapsing into giggles. “What’s your deal, neat freak?”

“Oh my God,” Niall laughs, shrugging out of her cardigan. “There’s no deal! I just like things to be orderly, and I don’t like germs.”

“You’re, like, a professional organizer, right?”

“Yeah,” Niall says slowly, her eyes tracking the movements as Harry sticks her tongue out and then wraps her lips around her straw. She shakes her head to clear it. “Yeah, I’ve been with the same company for about five years now. I head up my own team on most assignments.”

“Is it like that show on Netflix? The women who did Reese Witherspoon’s closet?”

“No,” Niall says, just barely restraining herself from snapping at Harry. It’s not her fault that fucking show is so popular. She takes a deep breath. “It's nothing like that. That show is trash, okay? All they do is put things in clear bins. Seriously, that’s it. Watch it. No, actually, don’t.”

Harry watches Niall rant with a mostly straight face and then she giggles again.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, picking her phone up off the table and waving it. “Louis put me up to that. She owes me five bucks.”

Niall buries her face in her hands, but she can’t help laughing as she looks up.

“Louis is an unholy terror,” Niall says, swirling her plastic cup. “It’s like she was put on this earth to pester me.”

“Yeah, but she’s fun,” Harry says, taking another sip of her latte. “Five years. So you must really like it?”

“I do,” Niall says, tapping out a quick ‘you’re dead to me’ text to Louis before returning her full attention to Harry. “It’s really satisfying. At the end of an assignment, you can actually see your work and see the difference it’s going to make to your clients.”

“That’s awesome, Niall.” Harry smiles and then parts her lips as if to say something else, but she doesn’t, chewing on the end of her straw instead.

“Go on,” Niall says, gesturing with her hand. “Ask. Everyone does.”

“Ask what?” Harry gives her a faux innocent look. “I wasn’t going to ask anything.”

“It’s okay,” Niall laughs, ignoring her phone as it buzzes, mostly likely with a reply from Louis. “Everyone asks about celebrity clients, but I always have to sign an NDA, so I can’t share much.”

“Okay,” Harry says, giving up the pretense. She leans her forearms on the small table. “What’s something you could tell me without, like, naming names?”

“Well,” Niall says, looking up at the ceiling and scanning her brain for something harmless. “Well, okay. So there was this one actor who hired us to organize this, like, red room. It was so obviously for show, no one needs that many whips and cat o’ nine tails. And he kept dropping in to check on our progress and then hovering, like waiting for us to ask, you know? It was so gross.”

Harry’s eyes go a little hazy at the mention of whips, and she sticks her tongue out as she tries to connect with the straw, failing a few times before eventually managing to connect and start to suck. It’s a lot for Niall to process in a busy coffee shop, where she can’t do anything about how fucking hot Harry is without even trying. 

“So,” Harry says slowly after a minute or two. “An actor? Someone I would recognize?”

“Someone all of America would recognize,” Niall says, swirling her cup again just to have something to do with her hands besides grab Harry and haul her in for a kiss. “A couple of people have flown us out to their Hamptons homes, but it’s usually nothing too exciting. After a while, it’s just people’s stuff, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Harry says, tilting her head. “So which came first? You’re a neat freak, so you became an organizer. Or being an organizer has made you a worse neat freak?”

“I think both are true, actually,” Niall laughs. She leans forward, matching Harry’s posture. “I don’t know, it gives me a sense of control or something. And what about you? You’re in graphic design, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, a slow grin spreading across her lovely face. “I love it, I love being able to take a blank piece of paper or screen and fill it, you know?”

“That’s really cool,” Niall replies, a little surprised to find she really means it. “I’ve never thought of it that way. That takes…”

“If I were a guy, I’d say it takes balls.”

They linger over their lattes, keeping the small table for far longer than is socially acceptable, talking about their jobs. Harry works a hybrid schedule, only going into her office a couple of times a week, and she tells Niall about making the effort to meet up with friends, going to yoga and going on hikes so she's not too cooped up. It’s the opposite of Niall’s work schedule; she’s always on the go somewhere, so she loves being a homebody in her off time. The more time they spend together, the clearer it’s becoming to Niall that she and Harry are opposites in lots of ways, but Niall finds that she likes it. She’s never met someone as interesting as Harry before, and she loves hearing what Harry thinks about, well, anything.

When they can’t ignore the dirty looks from the employees behind the counter any longer, they decide to go and walk around the botanical gardens. Niall tries to fight the grin on her face as she drives them there, but it’s impossible. She wasn’t ready for their time together to be over, and neither was Harry going by the way she immediately suggested this next activity. They hold hands as they wander aimlessly, again just so they don’t get separated. Niall tells Harry about the drama in her sister’s wedding party and how she had to create a separate group chat to set them all straight.

“No pun intended,” Harry says, smirking. “Right?”

“Right,” Niall laughs, shaking her head as they walk along the perennials. “I still can’t believe she’s getting married, I’m too busy dealing with her insane friends. It’s always something. I don’t know how they have the energy for it.”

“It’s nice of you to try and shield your sister from it.” Harry stops to admire a few shrubs with purple flowers. “But let me guess, you don’t think queer women have drama.”

“Oh, no, we do,” Niall says, following Harry as she walks along the path. “It’s just not always the same kind of drama. Me, I try to stay out of it, no matter who it is.”

“Is that why you never update the chart?”

Niall rolls her eyes at the mention of the shared Google Doc. Someone had gotten the bright idea to create their own chart to track who’s dated or hooked up with who in their friend group after their annual rewatch of The L Word, and as far as Niall’s concerned, it’s caused nothing but headaches.

“I hate that thing. Sophia stopped talking to Liam for weeks because someone just had to add that Liam hooked up with that girl, what’s her name–”

“Kate?”

“No, the other one. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. But it’s not like they weren’t open; Soph just didn’t expect to see Liam’s hookups in black and white in front of everyone. It’s just annoying.”

“You know what I think?” Harry grins as they round a corner. “I think the real reason you hate the chart is because you’re on it so much.”

“Hey! I’m not on it that much.”

“A little much,” Harry laughs, holding her thumb and index finger a couple of inches apart. “What is it, like second adolescence?”

Niall looks down, scuffing the toe of her sneaker on the ground. This is why she actually hates the chart; it makes her think about things she would rather not. When she looks up, Harry is looking back with a kind smile.

“Just… looking for the right person, I guess.”

“Me, too,” Harry says, shrugging. “I’m just pretty useless about it. Oh, wait.” Harry grabs her phone from her tote bag. “This reminds me. I want to text Zayn about Selena. They were totally flirting over orange slices before you got to the game today.”

“I thought she wanted to be single for a while after– no! Never mind! I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business.”

“Oh my God,” Harry says, grinning down at her phone. “Someone added us. They wrote ‘date to the flea market, even though Niall hates flea markets.’” She looks up, beaming. “Niall! You didn’t have to go with me if you really hate them that much. We could have done something else.”

Niall looks up at the clear blue sky for a moment, trying to find the words to say that she would be happy to do anything with Harry, anywhere, any time, without coming on too strong. 

“Come on,” Harry says, letting Niall off the hook and grabbing her hand. “I want to go see the dogwoods.”

“I bet that’s where you take all the girls,” Niall jokes, quickening her pace to match Harry’s.

“Nah,” Harry says, glancing at her. “Only the ones I’ve wanted to go out with for literal years.”

Niall’s mouth falls open in shock, but Harry doesn’t wait for her to reply, tugging her along the path until they eventually find a low shrub with red-tipped leaves. They don’t talk; Niall just watches Harry admire the plants, her features relaxed. Serene, even.

“So, is this a–”

“Shh, Niall,” Harry says, lifting a finger to her lips. “You’re going to ruin our date if you ask if it is one.”

Niall turns, grinning at the shrub in front of them. She knew it was a date.

They spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around the gardens; they talk about any and everything, and sometimes they just walk in companionable silence, swinging their joined hands. Before, where there was an awkward tension, now there’s a different kind of tension building between them. Niall is pretty sure they both know how the day is going to end and she’s very much looking forward to finding out how queer sex with Harry is, but she’s in no rush. She’s perfectly content to talk and laugh and gossip. Just a little. 

By the time they emerge from the gardens, they’re both hungry, so they decide to head to a taco truck that Harry follows on Instagram. When they get out of the car, Niall walks on the side of the pavement closer to the street and Harry smirks when she notices. There are a few benches nearby, totally deserted because it’s not really a meal time; they just happened to have burned off their hearty brunch before the dinner rush. Looking at the menu, they decide to split an order, and that’s when Niall is sure that she and Harry are thinking the same thing for their next activity. They sit at one of the benches and eat the light meal and talk and laugh a little more, and by the time they’re throwing their trash away, Niall is more than ready for Harry to stick her tongue in her mouth instead of out for a bite of food. 

It was kind of a given that they’d go back to Harry’s place, since the rug that Niall bought for her is in the back of the car, but Niall’s heart still thumps wildly in her chest when Harry extends the invitation. She pays careful attention to the road as she drives, not wanting to get in a fender bender or get pulled over or and delay the inevitable. She listens with one ear as Harry keeps up a steady stream of chatter about the house and how it’s the first place that she’s had all to herself, without a partner or roommate. Finally, Niall pulls into the drive. 

When she gets out of the car, she automatically goes to the back to get the rug. But before she can open the trunk, Harry arches a brow at her, and it’s game over. They each take a couple of steps toward the other, their lips crashing together as they meet in the middle. Niall wraps her arms around Harry’s slim waist, resting her hands just above her ass, while Harry places both of hands on Niall’s face and hauls her in closer. Fuck. Niall’s been thinking about this on and off for years, and the whole day has felt like some kind of extended foreplay. She’s aching for it as soon as she feels Harry’s tongue on hers, and she lets her hands drift lower, squeezing Harry’s cheeks. It’s probably a bit obscene for the front yard, but Niall couldn’t give a fuck.

Harry takes a step backward, pulling Niall along with her, and they stumble to the front door as well as they can without breaking the kiss. When Harry turns to unlock the door, Niall mouths at her neck, breathing in her scent. Her perfume contains familiar notes of warm vanilla, but this is the first time that Niall has been close enough to pick up the faint hint of tobacco. Both the fragrance and the knowledge are driving her insane. She moves her hands from Harry’s waist to cup at her breasts. The sounds of Harry’s harsh breaths spur her on, and she thumbs over her nipples as she gently bites her earlobe. Finally the door opens and they practically fall through it. Harry manages to slam Niall back against it after she closes it, and their kisses are heated, frantic. Niall pushes off the door and they manage a slow path down the hallway. Harry trips when they make it to the large open living space, and they laugh as she flips the light switch. 

Niall’s eyes land on an emerald green velvet couch in the living room, and she’s about to compliment it – as well as she can with Harry’s lips attached to her neck, anyway – when she realizes there’s a small cat perched on the middle cushion, eyeing them with disdain. 

“You have a cat?” 

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs against her skin, pawing at every part of Niall’s body she can reach.

“What’s…” Niall trails off, panting. She has the prettiest, sexiest, most interesting girl in the world in her arms for the taking, and she can’t take her eyes off of her cat. It’s just… Harry has a cat. And Niall is not a cat person. “What’s their name?”

“Cat,” Harry says, groping at Niall’s chest. “We’re independent beings and we don’t belong to each other, so I didn’t want to impose a name on her.”

Niall finally tears her eyes away from the cat and looks at Harry. “Really?”

“No,” Harry laughs, shaking her head. She tugs Niall to follow her as she starts walking toward an open door. “C’mon, I’ve got a nail brush with your name on it.”

Niall lets Harry pull her into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them, and then into the en suite, her mind swirling as she processes the latest way in which she and Harry are opposites. Harry is a cat person, Niall is a dog person. She always has been, there’s no contest. Cats are aloof, dogs are enthusiastic. Cats hiss, dogs lick your face. Cats shed, dogs… Well, some dogs shed, too. But–

“Hey,” Harry says, hopping up on the bathroom counter. “Where’d you go?”

Niall blinks a few times, then focuses her attention on Harry. Lovely Harry. Sexy Harry. She makes up her mind: The cat can wait. 

There’s another pussy that Niall needs to tend to at the moment.

“I’m right here,” she says, crowding into Harry’s space, standing between her open legs. “You said something about a nail brush?”

Harry laughs and hauls her in for another kiss. Niall could get used to this. She lets Harry thrust her tongue in her mouth, and then turns the tables, sucking on Harry’s tongue and cupping her breasts. Harry whimpers, moving her hands to claw at her cardigan, trying to get it off. Niall manages to help her without relinquishing her tongue, and between the two of them, they get the clasp to Harry’s bra undone. Harry slumps against the mirror behind her as Niall caresses her bare skin underneath her t-shirt. It’s a little awkward, maneuvering around the lacy cups of the still half-on bra, but Niall is nothing if not determined. Suddenly, Harry’s hand shoots out to the left, knocking over a bottle of Tom Ford cologne, and she starts blindly feeling around the counter for something. Niall spots the brush that Harry mentioned and smirks.

“I was right earlier,” Harry says, biting her lip as Niall leans over and starts washing her hands. “Wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” Niall says, singing the happy birthday song twice in her head to make sure she washes her hands for the proper amount of time. She stumbles over one of the ‘to you’s and looks over at Harry. “Wait, about what?”

“You’re a top.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. I mean, I like receiving oral, but I don’t really like being penetrated? I like giving everything to my partners, though.”

“That works for me,” Harry says, her eyes on Niall’s hands as she starts scrubbing under her nails. “Yeah.”

Niall takes the time to thoroughly clean her nails both because it’s what she would do normally and because she can tell Harry is getting more and more worked up the longer it takes. When she’s done, she grabs a hand towel and dries off before turning back to the quivering girl in front of her.

“Bed?” she asks, lifting her brows. “I mean, I really like the energy here, but maybe we can come back for round two.”

Harry nods, her chest rising and falling with her breaths, and she hops down off the counter. She whips off her t-shirt, letting her bra fall to the floor, and walks into the bedroom without a second glance. As much as Niall likes undressing her partners, she has to admit that Harry casually shedding clothes as she saunters to the bed is really working for her. She tears off her own clothes as she follows Harry, watching as she stretches out in the middle of the mattress, clad in just a skimpy pair of lacy, dark green panties. 

All thoughts of the cat out in the living room are gone as Niall climbs onto the bed and crawls over Harry’s body, her lips skimming Harry’s milky white skin on her way to recapture her lips. It would be enough just kissing, their naked bodies tangled up in the sheets, her hands grasping at Harry’s supple flesh. But after a while, Harry pulls back with a coy smile, and Niall knows exactly what she wants. She shuffles down the bed, dipping her fingertips below the lace of her panties to pull them down, but Harry shakes her head.

“What is it, baby?”

“Can you…” Harry buries her face in the pillow, apparently shy.

“Whatever it is, baby, the answer is yes.” Niall presses a lingering kiss to the velvety soft skin of Harry’s inner thigh. “Just tell me.”

“Can you do it, like, over the panties?”

Niall’s clit actually throbs at the request, and she stares at the dark green fabric that contrasts so beautifully with Harry’s skin.

“It would be my pleasure,” she replies, nuzzling the lace. She looks up, meeting Harry’s green eyes, blown almost black. “Literally.”

Harry throws her head back as Niall mouths over the damp fabric covering her pussy. It’s surprisingly tantalizing to feel the soft, heated skin along with the texture of the lace, which is almost rough against her tongue. She can see why Harry gets off on this; the only downside is that it mutes the taste of her. Niall flattens her tongue, running it along Harry’s folds, hoping Harry’s anticipation reaches a frenzied peak right along with her. When her lips are slick, she mouths around Harry’s clit, and then she sucks. Hard. Harry gasps, drawing Niall’s eyes, and Niall almost loses her rhythm when she sees that Harry is writhing above her, pinching her own nipples. She moans, shifting her hips up, and Niall tries to slip a finger inside of the panties, pausing when Harry makes a disapproving noise.

Oh. Oh. So when Harry asked her to do it over the fabric, she meant everything. Okay. 

Niall keeps a steady pressure on the pulsing nub as she lightly tugs Harry’s panties down her ass. Not enough to pull them off, just enough to give her some leverage. She runs her finger back and forth over the lace, now soaked through, and Harry’s thighs shake around her. When she thinks she’s drawn it out enough, she slowly moves her finger inside Harry, mindful of the lace. She thinks a little pain is the point, but she doesn’t want to actually hurt Harry. Going by the moans above her, she’s splitting the difference perfectly. The sounds that Harry is making are a boon to Niall’s ego, and she feels confident squeezing a second finger along with the first and, of course, the lace. It takes all of her concentration to find and rub her lace-covered fingertips over Harry’s spot and it pays off when Harry cries out, bucking her hips.

After what already feels like hours of going down on her, Niall’s tongue is finally coated in Harry’s wetness. Her own pussy aches, and she doubles her efforts to make Harry feel as much pleasure as she can. Whether Harry comes or not, Niall wants her to enjoy this as much as Niall is. Because Niall can’t get enough of her. Her taste, her scent, the heat of her thighs threatening to close in around her. It’s like she’s worshiping at Harry’s altar, and Harry’s pleasure is her benediction. This, Niall thinks wildly, this is exactly how queer sex should feel. And then Harry’s cries break off and she arches her back and bears down, taking as much of Niall as she can as she finally, gloriously comes in her mouth. Her whole body shakes with it, and she falls to the bed, breathing heavily. Niall eases Harry’s ruined panties off and then lifts her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She’s about to say something, she’s not sure what but probably something sexy, when she clocks movement out of the corner of her eye. 

The cat is sitting on the dresser, looking decidedly unimpressed. 

Niall startles so badly that she knocks her chin against Harry’s propped knee, and she curses. She cradles her jaw as she clumsily shifts into a sitting position on the bed, her heart racing and adrenaline coursing through her body after the unexpected shock.

“What’s wrong?” Harry practically slurs, laying bonelessly in the sheets. 

“Sorry, nothing, just–” Niall breaks off as she points at the dresser, where the cat’s expression has turned downright imperious. “Cat. The cat. She was watching us.”

“Oh,” Harry says, sounding much more alert as she lifts her head to look. “Oh, you silly girl! Come here.”

Harry pats the mattress next to her, and Niall hastily pulls the sheets over their naked bodies before the cat makes the jump from the dresser to the bed. 

“I thought I closed the door,” Niall says, resting her hand over her thudding heart. “Behind us. How did she get in?”

“Oh,” Harry says, reaching a hand out for the cat to sniff. “Sometimes it doesn’t latch properly. It didn’t seem important enough to call, like, a handyman or something.”

“I’m pretty handy,” Niall says, stiffening when the cat looks at her. “I could take a look.”

Harry finally turns her head to look at Niall. “Really? Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem,” Niall says, using the back of her hand to brush her hair off her forehead. She watches as the cat slowly walks over and then hops right up onto her lap, circling once and then sitting down to lick one of her paws, as if to show off that she can clean her own hands and Niall can’t. “Oh, uh… What is she…”

“She likes you!” Harry turns on her side, resting her elbow on the mattress and propping her chin up on her hand. “Oh my God, this is so cute! I wish I had my phone, I would take a picture.”

Niall manages a weak smile, and imagines what the photo would look like. She’s sitting up straight and leaning as far back as she can, trying to keep her hands away from the cat so she doesn’t try to sniff them. But Harry looks so happy, like she hasn’t noticed how uncomfortable Niall is. 

“What’s her name?” Niall asks, relieved that her heart rate is finally slowing to normal. “You said it’s not Cat?”

“No, it’s not,” Harry laughs, sitting up. “That’s from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. No, her name is Fleabag.”

Niall looks down at the small cat in horror.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I promise she doesn’t actually have fleas. I just like that show, and I thought it would be a funny name to tell people. The vet loved it.”

In spite of her discomfort, Niall laughs.

“What?” Harry starts laughing, even though Niall hasn’t explained yet.

And the thing, it’s really fucking cute.

“Nothing, just…” Niall gestures toward Harry’s mussed curls. “You’re obsessed with Fleabag. First the haircut, now your cat’s name. It’s cute, is all.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, you’re right. I thought I just liked it a normal amount. Maybe it’s the recovering Catholic in me?”

“That or you want to draft Phoebe Waller-Bridge over to our side.”

“Okay, right?” Harry sits up, grinning. “She’s like Natasha Lyonne, it just seems like she belongs to us.”

They both laugh again and Fleabag apparently decides she’s had enough and jumps down off the bed, stalking through the door with her tail high in the air.

“Hey, um…” Harry looks down, biting her lip.

“What? What is it?”

“So you’re not really a cat person, huh?”

Niall blows out a breath. She doesn’t want to upset Harry, but she doesn’t want to lie either.

“No, I’m not. We always had a dog when I was a kid, never a cat. I guess I’ve just never been around one before.”

“Yeah, you seemed a little freaked out,” Harry says, finally looking up. She raises her eyebrows. “It’s not, like, going to be a problem, is it? Because I really like you, Niall. I have since we first met, and I just… I really like having you here.”

“Harry,” Niall says, scooting as close as she can and looking into Harry’s bright green eyes. “It’s not going to be a problem. I feel the exact same way about you, I promise.”

“Okay,” Harry says, beaming. She rests her hand on Niall’s thigh. “Do you maybe wanna…”

“I think the moment’s over,” Niall says, huffing a laugh. “The cat startled me half to death. I think I’d rather clean up.”

“It was good, though,” Harry says with a smirk. “Like, really good.”

“Yeah, it was,” Niall murmurs, leaning in for a lush, open-mouthed kiss. “Really fucking good.”

“So you had good sex without coming,” Harry murmurs against Niall’s lips. “Interesting.”

“You are so lucky,” Niall laughs as she pulls back, “that I think it’s cute how stubborn you are.”

“I’m adorable,” Harry declares, throwing the sheets off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “You’re lucky.”

And Niall has to agree with her there. She follows Harry into the en suite, and they get in the shower, staying in the hot spray until Niall is satisfied that she’s thoroughly washed both of their bodies. Fleabag had made herself scarce while the shower was on, but she reappears once it’s off and hovers by the door watching them towel off. They dance around Harry’s kitchen in their t-shirts and clean pairs of underwear (no lace this time, sadly) and make popcorn after Harry suggests watching a movie. While it’s popping in the microwave, she sets down some wet food for Fleabag, who gobbles it up like Harry’s been starving her, even though Niall can see an automatic feeder with dry food in the corner. Harry shakes her head, but she smiles.

They sit out in the living room on the fabulous green velvet couch, but they don’t get to cuddle as much as Niall wants to because Fleabag settles in Harry’s lap this time, occasionally looking up at Niall as if to say, ‘see? She’s mine.’ It’s weirdly unnerving. Niall doesn’t think she’s had a dog who was this territorial before. She tries to ignore the cat and revel in her arm around Harry’s shoulders as Harry outright ogles Cate Blanchett on screen. It’s enough to make Niall wish she still dyed her hair. After the movie ends, Harry doesn’t ask if Niall wants to sleep over; she merely offers to find a new toothbrush for her in the linen closet. They exchange minty tasting kisses in bed, Niall still clad in her borrowed t-shirt and underwear, but Harry completely nude. For a second, Niall thinks it could turn into something more, but then Harry breaks a kiss to yawn and Niall realizes how tired she is too. She kisses the tip of Harry’s nose, and then curls up behind her when she turns over, and they fall asleep.

It’s pitch black and very still in the room when Niall wakes with a start. She blinks a few times, and lifts a hand to rub one of her eyes when she belatedly realizes it hurts. The reason becomes clear as her eyes adjust to the dark and she sees Fleabag perched on her chest, staring into her eyes. The cat must have pawed at her. Niall freezes, unsure what to do, but before she has to make a decision, Fleabag stands up and walks toward the foot of bed, hopping down. Niall rubs her eye again. Either she’s crazy or the cat had woken her up out of a deep sleep just to fuck with her. She turns on her side and curls her body around Harry’s, burying her face in Harry’s neck. But even though she’s exhausted, and Harry’s a very good (and very naked) little spoon, it takes her a long time to fall back asleep. 

When she wakes up, bright light is streaming through all the windows and Harry’s side of the bed is cold. She rubs her eyes, wondering if Fleabag’s tiny paw left a mark, and gets up to use the bathroom. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she feels much more human, and when she emerges from the en suite, Harry is walking into the bedroom, clad in a long-sleeve pajama set and a pair of white sunglasses. She’s holding a tray with plates of food and mugs of coffee complete with a flower in a tiny vase. It’s so cute and so sweet, Niall has to lean against the door jamb just so she doesn’t pass out. 

“Good morning,” Harry says, setting the tray down with a flourish. “Did you sleep okay? Do you like waffles? Do you want to borrow a pair of sunnies? I love how bright the sunshine is, but it’s so bright.”

Niall cackles at the absurdity of it all. She loves it. She walks over to Harry and presses a lingering kiss to her mouth, tasting hints of syrup.

“Good morning,” she says, pulling Harry in for a hug. “Everyone loves waffles, me included, and yes, the sun is bright, but no, thank you, I’m good.”

“And did you sleep okay?” Harry asks as they settle in the bed. She hands Niall a plate, a mug and silverware, looking at her expectantly.

“Um…” Niall buys herself time by taking a long sip of coffee. “Mostly? The cat woke me up in the middle of the night, and I had a hard time falling back asleep.”

“She did?” Harry looks around, as if Fleabag will appear at the sound of her name. “How did she wake you up?”

“I know how this will sound,” Niall says with a nervous laugh, “but I think she kind of punched me in the eye?”

Harry takes her sunglasses off, her eyes wide with horror. She claps a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, no, Niall! I’m so sorry. She’s never done that before. But you know, cats are light sleepers because they have to be alert for predators, and they worry about their humans when they sleep for hours at a time. So she was probably just checking on you.”

That sounds like a crock of shit to Niall, but she nods, drinking more coffee so she doesn’t have to think of something nice to say. Fleabag jumps up on the bed and sits in front of Niall, looking up at them innocently.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Harry coos, petting the cat on the head. “See, Niall’s okay, she was just sleeping.”

Niall picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite while Harry leans over and grabs her phone from her night stand. She takes a photo, and then swipes and taps at her phone, obviously posting it somewhere. She holds it out for Niall to see.

“Is it okay if I post this?” Harry bites her lip.

Harry’s Instagram account – which Niall may have scrolled all the way through once or twice – is up on the screen, and there’s a photo of Fleabag with Niall in the background accompanied by the caption breakfast with my girls #thetortoiseandthehare

“The tortoise and the hare?” 

“Yeah, she’s a tortie– a tortoiseshell cat, and I’m Harry. The hare.”

Harry looks so proud of herself that Niall can’t help but agree to having her photo posted, even though Fleabag is the clear focus and she looks kind of grumpy in the background. Plus, she’ll only have to give it about two minutes before someone adds a notation to the chart. 

“So,” Harry says, tossing her phone aside and putting her sunglasses back on. “I don’t have any plans today…”

“Well, your rug is still in my car. I can bring it in and roll it out for you. Oh, and if you have a toolbox, I can take a look at the latch on the door. And I noticed–”

“Niall!” Harry laughs. “I don’t want to put you to work. Well, not that kind of work, anyway.”

“I’d be happy to do any kind of work for you. On you…”

They’re staring into each other’s eyes with goofy smiles when Fleabag pounces. She steals a scrap of bacon from Niall’s plate and runs off with it, and Harry gets up to chase her. Niall stuffs a large bite of her waffles into her mouth and thinks about how Fleabag has a knack for ruining the moment. 

*

Over the next few days, they’re only apart when Niall has to go to work, and they keep up a steady stream of texts during those hours. Harry makes a habit of sending Niall TikToks throughout the day, insisting on watching her watch them when they’re together. It seems like Harry’s love language is physical touch; she’s constantly reaching out for Niall, nuzzling her head in Niall’s hand until she caresses her curls or linking their pinkies together when they’re brushing their teeth before bed. The two of them are inseparable.

Well, it’s more like the three of them. Harry hasn’t even been to Niall’s apartment yet; it just makes sense for Niall to go over to Harry’s house to spend time together because of Fleabag. Cats are more independent than dogs, and much less work – Fleabag even has her own self-cleaning litter box thanks to Harry’s last bonus. But Harry doesn’t like leaving her alone for too long. 

And it’s fine. It’s totally fine. Niall barely even notices her.  

She’s even putting together a miniature green couch for Fleabag that Harry ordered online. The toolbox that Harry presented to her the other day when she wanted to fix the bedroom door latch contained a tiny hammer and a box of Band-Aids that she assumes came in handy when Harry was attempting to hang her own photos after she moved in. So Niall brought her own toolbox from home, and she’s using one of her Phillips head screwdrivers to attach the pieces.

“You’re so butch,” Harry remarks, walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water in hand. She offers it to Niall as she sits down on the floor next to her. “I love it.”

“Thanks, doll,” Niall says, accepting the glass of water and taking a sip before setting it down. “This is a piece of cake. Come up with something harder next time, okay?”

“I’ll get right on that,” Harry laughs, reaching out to touch the velvet material of the cushion on Fleabag’s sofa. “I can’t believe I found a sofa for her that matches mine.”

Niall wants to ask if Harry really thinks Fleabag will use the sofa, but she bites her lip. It doesn’t really matter; she knows that Harry will be pleased just having the matching set. 

“Where is Fee-fee, anyway?” Harry asks, twisting at the waist and looking around the living room.

“She’s in the box,” Niall answers, pointing with the screwdriver. “I forgot about that, cats like boxes, don’t they?”

“Oh, she’s so cute,” Harry exclaims, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. She knee walks over to the box that Fleabag is currently occupying and crouches down to take photos. 

At the rate she’s going, Niall thinks she’s going to run out of storage on her phone. But Niall can get her a micro SD card for extra storage if (but probably when) that happens. 

Niall picks up the instructions and hides a yawn behind them. She doesn’t feel as rested sleeping over at Harry’s as she thought she would. The feel of Harry’s soft skin against hers is soothing at night (Harry remains a very good and very naked little spoon), but Niall’s woken up more than once to Fleabag clawing at her feet through the comforter. Sometimes she just stands on Niall’s side, her tiny body feeling considerably heavier as her paws dig into Niall’s thigh. Niall doesn’t want to burst their newly together bubble, so she hasn’t mentioned it to Harry since their first morning together, upping her daily iced coffee intake instead. Which isn’t so bad, really.

Fleabag hops out of the box and lets Harry pat her head a few times before walking away. Niall laughs at Harry’s pout, and beckons her for a kiss. This time it’s Niall that Harry knee walks over to, and she crawls into Niall’s lap, pushing the assembly instructions away. Niall can’t help smiling even as they kiss; Harry’s just so cute and so sweet. It’s impossible not to like her.

When Harry draws back with a triumphant smile, Niall catches sight of Fleabag over her shoulder looking like she’s up to no good. As usual. She cranes her neck to get a better look just in time to see Fleabag start drinking out of her water glass.

Oh, that’s gross. That’s so gross.

“What are you looking at?” Harry turns her head. She claps her hands together. “Fee-fee, please don’t do that. That’s Niall’s water. You wouldn’t want Niall to drink your water, would you?”

Fleabag takes no notice of Harry’s reprimand, and Niall looks over at the fancy water fountain on the floor of the kitchen. Well, Harry’s right about one thing. Niall wouldn’t drink out of that fountain if her life depended on it. She presses her lips together, smothering a sigh. The cat isn’t drinking out of Niall’s glass because she needs to, she’s doing it because she wants to. And Niall doesn’t think Harry’s gentle parenting is going to correct that. 

“Sorry, honey,” Harry says, turning back to Niall and draping her arms over her shoulders. “I’ll get you a new glass.”

“Thanks, baby,” Niall says, pursing her lips for another kiss. As Harry stands up and heads toward the kitchen, Niall calls after her, “Wait, what were we talking about before?”

“Oh, right,” Harry laughs, reaching into a cupboard for a new glass. Niall admires the sliver of skin that’s revealed when her shirt rises up. “So Cara and I went to a few Carly Rae Jepsen shows in February. We flew into Glasgow, and then did the train to Prague. It was amazing. I love just, like, walking around without a plan on vacation, don’t you? Exploring.”

“Oh, I actually love a plan,” Niall says, fidgeting with the screwdriver in her hands. She wants to be the kind of person that Harry would go to Europe with, but she can’t lie. She is who she is. “I’m the one with a spreadsheet who books everything in advance, and then everyone just asks how much to Venmo me for.”

“So you always have an itinerary,” Harry says, raising her eyebrows until Niall nods. She walks over with a new glass of water, and hands it to Niall before sitting. “And you get tickets in advance? To museums and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Niall replies, taking a sip of water and checking for Fleabag before she sets it down. “I feel like if you have a plan, and make arrangements, then you can get the most out of the trip. I always do the research beforehand.”

Harry props her chin in her hand. “Would you ever just keep an afternoon free and wander around? See what you find?”

“I think,” Niall says, twisting the last screw and righting the finished sofa on the floor, “that if I were traveling with the right person, that could be fun.”

Harry beams, either at Niall’s comment or the completed miniature sofa. But maybe both. 

“So,” Niall says, setting the screwdriver back in its slot in her toolbox. “Where do you want it? Keep in mind, I look very butch moving tiny furniture.”

*

At the end of their second week of non-stop togetherness, Niall has an office day planned. She doesn’t have a job site to go to for once, and she can spend her workday catching up on emails and working on her team’s schedule for the next couple of months. She just has one meeting in the afternoon that she should put on a clean shirt for, but otherwise, she can just hang out on Harry’s green couch with her laptop, get lots of kisses between tasks, and enjoy working from home together. 

The perfect day.

And it starts out that way. Harry seems to enjoy topping off Niall’s coffee and enforcing hourly breaks from screen time. They watch an episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills while they eat lunch, not because Niall enjoys it but because Harry is a self-proclaimed Bravo dyke and it’s her favorite city in the franchise. If only Niall could tell her who organized the British one’s closet, but the NDAs she has to sign are always airtight. The only snag is when Niall returns to her emails after lunch. Fleabag decides to walk on her keyboard while she’s typing and somehow manages to claw the R key off. Not like she’s going to need that or anything. Harry snaps it back on for her, and it’s a little sticky, but basically fine. 

When Niall’s meeting time rolls around, Harry moves across the room and puts on headphones. It’s a weekly check in with the team leads and Niall’s bosses, and after Niall’s turn to give a brief status update on her assignments, she sits back and glances at Harry while she reaches to press the mute button. Fleabag has wandered over to Harry’s desk, and Harry is now sitting on the floor, petting her. Niall smiles. As much as she’s still firmly a dog person, she can admit to herself that they are pretty cute together. Harry starts rubbing her hands on Fleabag’s flanks, and the cat lowers the front half of her body but keeps her butt in the air, and Harry laughs.

“Gimme that butt,” she coos, rubbing Fleabag’s flanks and scratching above her tail. “Oh, gimme it, gimme that butt! You love butt stuff, don’t you? Yes, you do!”

Niall covers her mouth with her hand, stifling her laugh, and after a moment, she realizes that her call has gone silent. She looks back to the screen to see all of her coworkers staring at her.

Her boss, Lewis, clears her throat. “Niall? Can you hit mute?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck.

“Sorry!” Niall sits up, fumbling for the button. “I’m really sorry, everyone.”

“That’s okay,” Lewis says, chuckling. “Alright, moving on. Where are we on the Cameron job?”

Niall catches sight of Harry mouthing ‘sorry’ at her, but she keeps her eyes on the screen. Her cheeks burn as the meeting continues. She knows that Lewis won’t hold it against it – part of the reason she’s such a great boss is that she has a great sense of humor and loves to laugh – but Niall’s never been so embarrassed in front of her colleagues. Ever. She prides herself on her professionalism, and she let herself get so distracted that she disrupted a meeting with her girlfriend cooing about “butt stuff” to her cat. Not that they could tell what the context was. And how is Niall going to find a way to explain?

She’s never going to live this down.

The meeting goes on for about half an hour after that, but it feels like an eternity. When Niall finally leaves the call, she shuts the lid of her laptop and sits back, raking her hands through her hair. Harry takes off her headphones, resting them around her neck.

“Is everything okay?”

Niall takes a deep breath and counts to three before exhaling. She’s not going to yell. Before the divorce, her parents yelled at each about everything, and Niall hated it. And logically, she knows this isn’t a big deal. It just feels very big at the moment.

“Everything’s okay,” she says, rolling her shoulders, trying to release the tension that’s built up. She makes a split-second decision. “I’m, uh… I’m done with work, and I think I’m just going to head out, if that’s cool?”

“You’re mad,” Harry says, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I thought you were on mute and I just got carried away. Don’t leave, okay?”

“It’s okay,” Niall says, grabbing her laptop bag and shoving her computer inside. “Everything’s okay. I just have a ton of laundry and I haven’t picked up my mail in days, and… I just want a night in my own bed, you know?”

“Yeah, of course.” Harry stands up, but she forgets to take her headphones off and she stumbles when she tries to take a step. She doesn’t make much noise when she trips, but it’s enough to send Fleabag running. “Oh, fuck, I just– sorry, Fleebs!”

Niall expects her to run after the cat, but instead Harry crosses the room and throws her arms around her neck.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” Harry says, pressing a soft kiss to Niall’s cheek. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Niall promises, brushing a loose curl from Harry’s forehead. “I’ll text you in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay…” Harry bites her lip. “Do you want me to come? We could watch that show you were talking about, the scary one– What was it?”

“The Haunting of Bly Manor,” Niall says, squeezing Harry’s hips before she takes a step back. “Maybe another time, okay?” 

Harry nods, forcing a smile by the looks of it. And Niall feels bad leaving, she really does, but this is just how she handles things. She doesn’t yell and argue. She just needs a night alone, some time to herself, to get past feeling embarrassed and annoyed, to stop kicking herself for being so stupid. It’s not a big deal.

“I’ll text you,” she says again, hitching the strap of her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door. 

*

Niall doesn’t bother knocking when she arrives at Louis’ house with flowers and a box of Cocoa Puffs. The door is unlocked, and Hot Luke’s car isn’t in the driveway, so she knows it would just be an inconvenience for Louis, who’s supposed to be resting after breaking her elbow the day before doing God knows what. And Louis complains enough about being inconvenienced when she’s totally fine; Niall can only imagine the amount of whining she’d have to put up with for making Louis come to the door when she’s in a cast and on painkillers.

“Lou?” she calls out, shutting the door behind her. “It’s Niall.”

“Neil! I’m in the living room. Can you grab me a beer?”

Niall turns the corner and has to bite her lip not to laugh. Louis is laying on the couch surrounded by candy wrappers with a recording of a USWNT game on in the background. There’s a blanket on her lap, but you can barely see it because her giant dog Clifford is splayed across her, nuzzling his head into her good hand.

“Nice try,” Niall says, setting the vase down on the coffee table. “Hot Luke already texted me and said you’re not allowed any while you’re on pain meds.”

Louis groans, rolling her eyes. “It was a mistake to marry someone so responsible, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it must really suck having a hot and responsible wife,” Niall says, shaking her head. She holds up the cereal box. “I didn’t know what to get you, so I got this.”

“My favorite,” Louis says, resting her good hand over her heart while Cliff whines. “You remembered.”

“You complained enough about my Corn Flakes,” Niall reminds her, sitting in the armchair across from the couch. “Every single time you spent the night. Makes it hard to forget.”

“Well, they’re disgusting,” Louis says, petting Cliff’s head. “It’s not my fault you have terrible taste in cereal and excellent taste in women. Speaking of, how’s Harry?”

Niall sits back in her chair and sighs. She’d meant it when she told Harry everything was fine after that disastrous work call, but once she was at home on her own, she couldn’t stop thinking about how things were going between the two of them. Well, the three of them.

Louis narrows her eyes at her.

“Neil…”

“I know I promised not to break up with her for a dumb reason–” 

“You want to break up with her,” Louis explodes, pointing at Niall. “Are you kidding me? It’s only been two weeks!”

“Wait,” Niall says, leaning forward. “Hear me out.”

“I can’t wait to hear what you’ve come up with this time.”

“Is breaking up with her because of her cat a dumb reason?”

Louis stares at Niall for a few moments. The silence grows uncomfortable, and Niall starts fidgeting with her hands.

“Yes,” she says at last. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course that’s a dumb reason. That’s the dumbest reason you’ve come up with yet. Her cat?”

“I’m not a cat person!” Niall gestures toward Clifford, who’s resting his head on Louis’ ample chest. “I grew up with dogs, like you. And this cat, Lou. She hates me.”

“The cat hates you? Niall, come on.”

“No, seriously,” Niall insists. She scrubs a hand over her face. “Okay. The cat will jump up onto the kitchen counter–”

“Gross.” Louis wrinkles her nose.

“Thank you! It’s so gross, completely unsanitary. But she only does it in front of me, not Harry.”

Louis rolls her eyes again.

“No, really. I mentioned it to Harry, and she said that the cat has never done that before.”

“What else?” Louis beckons for her to continue. “You know I love a good conspiracy theory, get it all out.”

“She tries to trip me,” Niall replies, shuddering as she remembers the close call she had on the stairs down to Harry’s basement the other day. “It’s like she wants me to fall and break my neck.”

“You think the cat tried to murder you?”

“And okay, we were working from home together the other day. The cat stepped on the keys while I was trying to type an email–”

“Oh, so she’s trying to get you fired, too.” Louis shakes her head, mock seriously. “Wow, what are you going to do?”

“You haven’t even heard the worst of it,” Niall says, scrubbing a hand over her face. She proceeds to tell Louis about the work call and how all of her coworkers overheard Harry talking about butt stuff with zero context, and Louis almost falls off the couch, she laughs so hard.

“Forget it,” Niall says, sitting back. “I knew you would think it’s dumb.”

“No, wait, wait,” Louis says, catching her breath after her laughing fit. “What about Harry? How’s it going with her?”

“Harry’s not the problem. I really, really like her.”

“Your first date lasted until you had to go work that Monday morning, right? I saw it on the–”

“Chart, yeah. She’s… amazing. She’s so different from me, we’re total opposites, but everything that I would expect to bother me just makes me like her more. Except…”

“The cat.” Louis shakes her head. “Listen, I’m not a cat person, either. Okay? I get it. But it’s still a dumb fucking reason to break up with Harry when you’re so into her. I’m holding you to our deal. And listen, Harry’s a great person. Maybe you could just, I don’t know, talk to her? If it’s really that bad.”

“You… actually have a point,” Niall concedes, hating every second of it. “About talking to her.”

“I know, I’m brilliant. Just give her a chance, alright? A real one.”

“Alright, yeah,” Niall says, raking her hands through her hair. As much as her interactions with Fleabag give her the familiar itch that usually precedes a breakup, she loves spending time with Harry. Doing anything. She’d probably enjoy doing their taxes together. And what Louis is asking is fair. She can do this, she can give Harry a real chance. She looks over at Louis, who’s wincing as she adjusts her bad arm. “So what did you do anyway? How did you break it?”

“Not telling,” Louis says, reaching for the box of Cocoa Puffs. “That secret’s going with me to the grave.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Niall says, standing up. She opens the box of cereal and hands it to Louis. “You know that, right?”

“No more ridiculous than you. Her cat. You honestly thought I was going to let you get away with that?”

“Not really,” Niall admits, sitting back down. “So what are we watching?”

“The Paris game from 2019. A classic.”

“You need anything? Ice? A pillow or something?”

“Nah.” Louis shakes her head. “Just keep me company until Lukey gets home?”

“I can do that.”

They watch some of the game, and talk over parts of it, and it’s fun, but the whole time Niall can’t help but think about how she’d rather have a dog like Clifford than a cat like Fleabag. Cliff can tell that Louis is injured, he won’t leave her side and periodically lifts his head to lick her cheek with his long tongue. And he’s probably never tried to kill Louis on purpose. 

After Hot Luke gets home, Niall helps her unload the groceries she’d bought and then says her goodbyes. A text from Harry is waiting for her on her phone, and Niall sighs as she turns on her car. She does want to grab dinner with Harry, she does want to spend time with her. But Harry and Fleabag are a package deal, and Niall’s not sure she’ll get used to that, even after giving it a fair chance. If she hadn’t made the deal with Louis, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But then Harry sends a selfie, making a kissy face at the camera, and Niall’s face breaks into a smile. If this is her biggest problem, then she must have it pretty good.

*

On her way from Louis’ house to Harry’s, Niall stops to pick up the Chinese food that Harry ordered for them. It smells so good during the drive that she’s almost forgotten how frustrated she’s been about the cat. Almost. Harry greets her in the kitchen with a kiss, and then starts chatting about her yoga class that afternoon while they unload the bag. Niall grabs a plate and silverware for her sweet and sour chicken, while Harry rummages through a drawer for chopsticks. Fleabag jumps up onto the counter and noses at the box containing Harry’s vegetable lo mein.

“Flee-bee! No, no, no,” Harry says, sounding scandalized as she picks Fleabag up and looks her right in the eyes. “That’s not good behavior, is it?”

Niall tries to smother her laugh with her hand, but Harry looks at her anyway.

“Is this what you were saying the other day? She jumped on the counter like that?”

“Yeah,” Niall replies, scooping rice onto her plate. “A couple times.”

“You’re an adventurous girl, aren’t you?” Harry says to the cat, shaking her head. She sets her down on the floor, and Fleabag scampers into the living room. “I wonder if there’s a way to, like, discourage her from doing that?”

“Tin foil on the counter,” Niall says automatically, having done a little light research into that very subject. “I’ve heard. Sometimes that works.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry says, leaning her hip against the counter. “You’ve heard. Well, we should try it.”

“I can grab some tin foil at the store tomorrow,” Niall offers, licking a dab of sweet and sour sauce from her thumb. “If you want.”

“How many times has she jumped on the counter in front of you? Really.”

“Like eight times,” Niall says, relieved that Harry’s listening to her. “And you know me, I’m a–”

“Neat freak, yeah.” Harry straightens up and takes a few steps toward Niall, pulling her into a hug. “I bet you couldn’t sleep at night, thinking about the germs.”

Niall wraps her arms around Harry’s waist, burying her face in her curls while she musters up the– well, not the courage, exactly. More like searches for the right words to say to Harry.

“Actually,” she says at last, drawing back, “there’s something I wanted to mention. About sleep. Want to take our food over to the couch?”

Harry looks a little puzzled, but she nods and they gather their food and settle on the couch in the living room. Fleabag sits on her own couch, watching them with an expression that can only be described as haughty.

“What’s up?” Harry asks, peeling the lid off her takeout box. “Something about sleep? Is it my bed? Is it not comfy enough? I just picked that mattress because of my back, but I can–”

“Hey, hey,” Niall interrupts, resting her hand on Harry’s knee. “It’s not the mattress. It’s just… Fleabag keeps waking me up in the middle of the night. She’ll headbutt me or start clawing at my feet, and then I have trouble falling back asleep.”

“Oh,” Harry says, glancing at the cat. “Oh, I’m such a heavy sleeper, I had no idea. We should just close the door at night.” 

“Really?” Niall’s eyebrows shoot up. She doesn’t know why, but she wasn’t expecting Harry to offer such a simple solution. “You would do that?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, shrugging. “I can try putting on one of those bird videos for her at night, keep her entertained.”

“That’s… that would be awesome. Thank you.”

“Wait, was that it?” 

“No, I also wanted to tell you that you’re very pretty and I’m glad you’re my… girlfriend?”

“Oh, thank God,” Harry says, dropping her head back for a moment. “I’ve been using the ‘g’ word since I made you breakfast that first morning.”

“I can be a little slow on the uptake,” Niall says, leaning in for a soft, lingering kiss. “Your lips look so good tonight. Like especially pretty. Is that a new lipstick?” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, smirking. “Cara told me at yoga that you’re supposed to match your lips to your nips, so I went shopping after class.”

Niall tilts her head, looking closer at Harry’s mouth. Her plump lower lip is a pleasing shade of berry pink. It suits her. But Niall’s going to need to do further examinations to confirm that it matches her nipples.

“You know, I’ve always found that Chinese food is better when you reheat it.”

“Interesting. You know, I’ve always thought the same thing.”

They move at the same time. Harry leaps up and makes a dash to the bedroom, and Niall grabs their food and shoves it into the fridge before chasing after her. When she turns to close the door behind them, not wanting Fleabag to follow them, she swears she hears the cat sigh. But she must be hearing things.

Cats don’t sigh. Do they?

*

“Babe?” Niall calls out, juggling her phone, wallet, keys, chapstick and water bottle as she walks out of the bedroom. “Are you taking your tote bag to the game?”

Harry doesn’t bother responding, looking down at her phone in one hand and holding up a tote bag with a drawing of a cat next to the words “Lesbians eat what?” with the other.

Niall walks up to her, setting her things on the counter before resting her hands on Harry’s waist and nuzzling her neck. “Do you think you could–”

“Yeah, I can carry your stuff,” Harry says, leaning back against her. “It’s cute that you still ask. I just plan on it at this point.”

Niall presses a kiss to Harry’s neck, inhaling her cologne. “And maybe you could–”

“Braid your hair, yeah,” Harry laughs, turning in Niall’s arms. She shoves her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and lifts her hands to run her fingers through Niall’s hair. “Your hair is so soft, I love playing with it.”

“I love playing with you,” Niall murmurs, drawing Harry in for a kiss. “We don’t have time for–”

“No, we don’t,” Harry says with an actual pout. “And actually, we should just leave now. I can do your braids when we get there. Louis will be so pissed if we’re late.”

“I thought she was an annoying team captain,” Niall says, leaning against the counter as Harry tosses things into her tote. “But she’s so much worse as a coach.”

“I know,” Harry says, reaching over to squeeze Niall’s shoulder. “It’s just because she’s sad she can’t play, though.”

“Babe, no,” Niall says, grabbing her keys and heading to the door. “You’re supposed to pile on, not make me be a good person.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says, rolling her eyes. She walks over to Fleabag’s miniature couch and pats her on the head before walking back over to the kitchen. “God, you’re right, she’s such a tyrant. And she still won’t tell us how she broke her arm.”

“I can’t believe Hot Luke won’t tell either,” Niall says, wondering what Harry’s getting when she opens the refrigerator door. “Zayn got her drunk at happy hour the other night, and her lips were still sealed.”

“It’s kind of annoying how good they are together.” 

When Harry turns from the refrigerator with a smile and a ziploc bag full of orange slices in her hand, Niall swears she feels her heart skip a beat. Harry is just so cute, acting like their little kickball team mom. As much as it pains her to admit, even to herself, Louis was right.

“Ready?” She holds up her keys. “Like you said, Louis will murder us if we’re late.”

“Well, then,” Harry laughs, walking over to the door. She smacks an obnoxious kiss to Niall’s cheek and then swats her butt. “Let’s go!”

Niall complains about her uniform for the whole drive; otherwise, she won’t be able to stop thinking about Harry and how cute she is and how pretty she is and how she makes the hottest noises when Niall eats her pussy. It would just be too distracting. Harry mostly ignores her, scrolling on her phone and saying, “uh-huh,” at regular intervals. The traffic is fairly light and they make it to the field with plenty of time to spare. When they reach the baseball diamond where they’re assigned to play, Niall and Harry exchange a glance and a smile upon seeing Louis directing Hot Luke and Liam in stretches. Luckily, Niall has the excuse of needing Harry to braid her hair, so she doesn’t have to join in. 

Although once Harry starts combing her fingers through Niall’s hair, she thinks she might be better off stretching. The firm but gentle movements are soothing, but Niall starts to squirms on the bench halfway through the first braid, getting a little turned on. She really wishes they’d had time to fuck before the game. Oh, well. There’s always after the game. They don’t really need to have brunch with everyone every week, do they?

Almost everyone has arrived by the time Harry is done with her braids, and they get a few cat calls as Niall pulls Harry in for a kiss to thank her. She has no doubt they’re encouraged by the way Harry fully grabs her ass in front of everyone. Harry skips off in the direction of the stands without a care in the world, and Niall is left wishing she could adjust her shorts; her underwear isn’t as dry now as it was when they got there. She doesn’t have too much time to think about it, though. Louis has Hot Luke clap her hands together to get the players’ attention, and then she starts going over the lineup. From the serious tone, you’d think she was discussing the nuclear codes or something, but Niall remembers what Harry said about Louis being sad, and decides not to make fun of her. 

It’s a good game. The other team is made up of employees at a tattoo parlor, and Niall thinks that Harry’s been there before, but she’s not sure. She smiles as she glances over her shoulder toward the stands. Another way she and Harry are total opposites. Harry’s covered in ink, and Niall would never let someone touch her with a tattoo gun. Harry beams and waves, and Niall lifts her hand to wave back. She jumps at the sound of a whistle.

“Neil,” Louis yells, “you’re up!”

Niall jogs over to home plate, nodding at the catcher and the ump before turning her attention to the field. There’s no hint of a smile on the pitcher’s face; she’s the picture of concentration as she gets into position. Apparently Louis isn’t the only one taking this seriously. Niall stares the woman down, adjusting her stance. If it’s like that, then. 

The pitch is fast, but Niall is ready for it. Her foot easily connects with the ball, sending it flying into left field. She takes off running for first, watching the other players out of the corner of her eye. One of them is chasing after the ball, so she has time to round to second, and then decides to just fucking go for it, hauling ass past third. Her adrenaline is pumping, and she barely hears the roar of the crowd as she crosses home, slowing to a stop and bending to catch her breath.

When she straightens up, she’s swarmed by half the team. They’re still up, so they have to move to the side of the field, and Niall follows her teammates as they chatter about the home run. Harry is standing and cheering for her. When she sees Niall looking back at her, she pulls off her sweatshirt to reveal a t-shirt with the words BALL ME MAYBE scrawled across the front. Niall stumbles, unable to take her eyes off the girl she’s somehow convinced to date her, and Liam has to pull her the rest of the way off the field. The next player up, a friend of Niall’s named Julia, strikes out and the inning ends with their team up by two. Not bad, not bad at all.

Louis sidles up to Niall during the break in the game, handing her an orange slice. She gives her a knowing look.

“So it’s going well, then?”

Niall sighs. Louis has earned the right to be smug, but still.

“It’s going really well, okay?”

“And I was…” Louis prompts her, waving her good hand.

“You were right, Coach.”

“Ha! Thank you. Wait, no. You should be thanking me.”

“Yes, Louis,” Niall says in a sing-song tone. “Thank you, Louis.”

“Everyone thinks you two are adorable,” Louis says, nudging Niall with her good arm. “It’s kind of gross. It’s all anyone can talk about. Even when they should be focusing on the game.”

“So adorable.”

Niall and Louis both turn to see who spoke. Selena is standing behind them, suited up in her blue uniform, with one hip cocked. She looks decidedly unimpressed.

“But aren’t you worried that she’s an Aquarius?”

Selena doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, turning on her heel and stomping away. Niall can’t really blame her, she can admit that she earned that. With an assist from Louis.

“Again,” she says, turning back to Louis. “Thanks for that.”

“She just needs some time to process,” Louis says, shrugging her good shoulder. “You know, she’s a Cancer.”

The ump blows his whistle, signaling that it’s time for the next inning to start, and Niall takes a bite of the orange slice that Louis brought her, fitting as much into her mouth as possible before saying, “Thanks again, Coach.” She grins at Louis as she tosses the peel away. It’s okay that that’s all the payback she has time for; Louis can’t stand it when people talk with their mouths full and she full-body shudders as Niall jogs onto the field. The next couple of innings drag a little; as much fun as it is playing with her friends (and exes), but she can’t keep glancing at Harry in the stands in her homemade t-shirt. They’re definitely skipping brunch.

They end up winning by five. The stands go wild and even Louis looks on in approval. Niall follows her teammates to high five or bump elbows with the players on the other team, saying “Good game,” over and over before jogging off the field. As she approaches, Louis points at her.

“You’re not skipping brunch.”

“What? I wasn’t going to–”

“Forget it, Neil. I can read you like a book. You and Harry can fuck later.”

Niall kicks the dirt. The whole morning has basically been foreplay, but she knows she won’t be able to get out of brunch now. It’s fine, though. It’s fine. She’s a grown woman. She can wait.

Harry bounds up to her, throwing her arms around her neck, and Niall envelopes her in a hug.

She knows from experience that Harry is worth the wait.

*

Harry takes Niall’s breath away. In a figurative, 80s power ballad kind of way, but also literally.

Niall sits back against the headboard, her breath catching as she rests her hands on the meat of Harry’s thighs, taking in the sight of her girlfriend bouncing in her lap. It’s their first time using the strap, and it definitely won’t be their last. Harry’s eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth hanging open as she lifts her hips, and Niall lifts a hand to brush her fingertips over those lush pink lips. Harry’s rhythm stutters as she sucks two of Niall’s fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them. Niall thrusts up to meet her and Harry’s mouth falls open. She throws her head back, showing off the line of her throat. The sounds she’s making are somehow sexy and cute at the same time, little huffs that almost seem punched out of her. 

Definitely worth the wait.

“You’re taking me so well,” Niall says, running her hands up Harry’s sweat damp torso to pinch her nipples. Harry gasps, slamming down her hips. “Fuck, baby, love the way you ride my cock.”

Harry moans as Niall plays with her tits. She can’t get enough of them, grasping the flesh and rubbing her fingertips over the hard buds of the nipples. When she drops her hands, the mounds jiggle in front of her with every movement of Harry’s lithe body. If the angle weren’t too awkward, she would bury her face in between them and happily let Harry smother her. While Niall rhapsodizes about her tits, Harry’s moans are growing high pitched, and she bears down more, squeezing around the dildo. 

“Yeah, just like that.” Niall brushes Harry’s disheveled curls off her forehead and then smacks her ass. The sound is loud in the room, which is completely still aside from Harry’s heaving breathing and moans. “Fuck yourself just like that, baby. You’re so fucking hot.”

After gripping Harry’s ass and giving her a few more light smacks, Niall moves her hand to cup Harry’s pussy as well as she can. She splays her fingers, letting Harry’s clit rub up against the two middle ones as she works herself up and down on the dildo. Harry goes fucking wild for it. She spreads her legs and claws at Niall’s shoulders, fucking herself down hard. Niall can tell she’s trying to get the toy to rub against her spot, so while Harry concentrates on the angle, she slides her fingers over the hot, pulsing nub, gradually increasing the pressure until Harry’s moans turn deep, almost guttural. She knows better now than to define good sex by an orgasm alone, so she puts that as an end goal out of her mind and focuses on just making Harry feel as good as possible in the moment. 

She can tell Harry’s right on the brink, though, from the sight of her slack mouth, the moans low in her throat, the heat emanating from her flushed skin, even the smell of her. Nothing gets Niall off like this, like the experience of her partner coming apart right in her lap. Her whole body is thrumming with it. She curls her fingers a little, just enough to make the slide against Harry more intense. A moan dies on Harry’s lips and she stills as she comes, hovering over Niall and thrusting her chest in her face. That’s it, that’s fucking it. Niall shifts her hips in a figure eight motion, fucking Harry through the aftershocks and mouthing at her breasts.  

After a couple of minutes, Harry slumps against Niall, pressing her face into Niall’s neck and giving her a kitten lick. Niall rubs Harry’s back, humming softly while she catches her breath. Harry rolls into her back, her chest still rising and falling, and she throws Niall a coy look.

“Will you sit on my face?”

Niall doesn’t have to be asked twice. She eases out of the harness as quickly as she can, tossing it to the foot of the bed. Harry licks her lips as Niall swings a leg over her prone body, looking up at her with dark eyes. Niall can’t take her eyes off of her as she gets situated, resting her hands on the headboard. Harry’s so fucking beautiful, her curls spread out on the pillow like a halo, her face flushed, her tits heaving. Harry doesn’t seem to notice the heat of Niall’s gaze; she lays back and opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out. Niall is so turned on that she’s practically dripping on Harry’s chin, but she can’t help smiling at the sight of Harry approaching eating pussy just like she does eating food.

Harry’s melted into the sheets, laying back and ready to be used, so Niall isn’t expecting it when she runs her hands up the back of Niall’s thighs. She shivers, a little stunned for a moment, and Harry must be growing impatient, because she grabs Niall’s ass and urges her forward. Niall shifts, spreading her legs wider and lowering her body until she feels the first brush of Harry’s tongue against her pussy. A low moan escapes Niall’s lips and she grabs the headboard, starting to rock her hips back and forth. Harry’s hands are still on her ass, and she pulls her lightly, egging her on. Niall reaches down, managing to tangle her fingers in Harry’s hair and gently but firmly lift her head. Harry seems to read her mind, mouthing around her clit.

God, Harry’s mouth was made for eating pussy. Her mouth is wide, her lips lush and puffy from kissing, her tongue long and eager. Niall’s thighs shake with the effort as she kneels over her, bucking her hips wildly and moaning as Harry keeps up with every motion of her body. In the throes of it, Niall wishes it could last forever, the hungry strokes and heat of Harry’s mouth on her, but it’s only a couple of minutes before the pressure that’s been building since they got back to Harry’s house and she quirked a brow at her snaps and Niall cries out, digging her nails into the headboard as her whole body shakes with the force of her orgasm. 

She eases off Harry’s body, falling to the mattress beside her, and they lay together, holding hands as they catch their breath. Niall feels kind of gross, sweaty and sticky, and Harry knows by now that Niall likes to shower after sex, so they make their way into the bathroom once they’ve come back to themselves. Harry practically purrs as Niall runs a soapy loofah over her skin and she has trouble standing when Niall washes her hair for her. Honestly, she’s so easy for a bit of petting. When they’re done in the shower and they’ve toweled off, they head out to the living room, so Niall can check the locks and turn off the lights while Harry puts on a video of birds flying around for Fleabag.

Speaking of. Just as they’re walking over to the bedroom, Fleabag appears out of nowhere, zooming past them to flop down in front of the door. She lolls on her back, showing off her tummy and begging for pets.

“She’s just like you,” Niall remarks, gesturing toward the cat, who’s already purring. “Always wanting to be pet.”

Harry throws her head back and laughs. “I never thought about it that way. I have to admit, you have a point.”

Niall feels awkward, standing over the two of them and watching as Harry pets Fleabag, so she crouches down next to her. She doesn’t really know how to pet a cat, so she’s still just watching, but it feels less awkward to be on their level.

“Okay, baby girl,” Harry coos, giving Fleabag one last pat. “Good night. I love you. Go enjoy your stories.”

Niall snorts. Her stories. How does Harry make sounding like Niall’s grandmother so endearing?

Harry shoos a begrudging Fleabag away from the door and they manage to duck in without her sneaking past them. As they settle in bed, Harry in Niall’s arms, she thinks about how stupid it would have been to break up with Harry instead of just talking to her. And about how Louis is going to hold that above her head for the rest of her life. Harry scoots back, pressing her body as firmly against Niall’s behind her as she can with a little content sigh.

It’s worth it.

*

“I have something for you!”

Niall shuts the door behind her, grinning at Harry’s sing-songy greeting. She’s standing in the front hallway, beaming, with her hands behind her back.

“Hi. baby,” Niall says, ducking in for a kiss. But she’s left chasing Harry’s lips as Harry takes a step back. “What’s going on?”

“I want you to guess what it is,” Harry says, taking another step back and bumping into the wall. “Oops.”

“This is a dangerous game,” Niall laughs, reaching out for her. This time Harry lets her rest her hands on her hips, but she takes another step back, this time more slowly. “Wait, wait. Where are we going?”

“Just guess!”

“Okay…” Niall tries to think as they stumble down the hall toward the living room. “You know, it would be easier to guide you if–”

“If you don’t make at least one guess, I’m not going to give it to you.”

Niall cackles. She loves how weird and stubborn this girl is.

“Okay, okay,” Niall says, looking behind Harry to make sure their path is clear. Luckily Fleabag is nowhere to be seen, instead of winding around their legs to trip them. “Is it… a candle? Diptyque?”

“No,” Harry says, shaking her head. “Cold, very cold. But don’t buy the pumpkin one, I’ll get it for you.”

“Citrouille,” Niall corrects her, mostly as a joke but also because she’s kind of an expensive candle snob. When Harry makes a show of rolling her eyes, Niall kisses the tip of her nose. “Thank you. Okay, if we’re playing hot or cold, then it’s not something for the living room?”

Harry shrugs her shoulders, but she can’t keep the wide grin off her face.

Niall glances toward the kitchen. “A water cup with a lid on it?”

“Cold,” Harry says, shaking her head. “That’s a good idea, but no. Ice cold.”

“Ice cold?” Niall grips Harry’s hips, shifting her a few steps toward the bedroom. “Hm… a jade face roller? Like the one we saw at Sephora?”

“Warmer,” Harry says, her tone sing-songy again. “Warm, warm, warm.”

Niall tries to think as they shuffle awkwardly through the bedroom and into the en suite. Harry is careful to stand so that Niall can’t see whatever she’s holding behind her back in the mirror, and Niall scans the countertop, crowded with skin care products and makeup, trying to think what Harry could have gotten for her as a surprise.

“A new eye cream? For my dark circles?”

“You don’t have dark circles!” Harry looks scandalized as she defends Niall against herself.

“Baby, my family is Irish,” Niall laughs. “We all have dark circles. Okay, I give up. Can I give up?”

“Yeah, that was a lot of guesses,” Harry says, jerking her chin toward the counter. “Do a drumroll.”

Niall drums her fingers on the countertop as Harry brings her hands in front of her with a flourish.

“Ta-da!”

“What is this?” Niall says, picking the small object up from Harry’s cupped hands. “Oh, a new nail brush?”

Well, that’s thoughtful, considering how many times Niall has cleaned under her nails at Harry’s house lately. It’s smart to change them out regularly, like toothbrushes.

“No, but look,” Harry says, turning it over in Niall’s hands.

Niall bursts out laughing when she sees her name appliqued to the handle.

“Oh my God, I love it!”

“I figured,” Harry says, looking pleased with herself. “As a professional neat freak, I bet you love labeling things.”

“I do,” Niall says, nodding. “I really, really do. Thank you so much.”

They lean in for a kiss at the same time, and it’s soft, sweet. When they draw apart, Harry picks up the old nail brush from the counter. 

“I’ll just toss this in a drawer, and we can keep yours by the sink.”

Niall winces at the sight of jumbled contents of the drawer that Harry places the brush in, and Harry catches sight of her in the mirror.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Niall bites her lip, not sure if she should say anything.

“Seriously, what is it?”

“I was just thinking, maybe I could help organize in here? A little bit?”

Harry giggles. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Not long.”

Harry stares at her, crossing her arms.

“Okay, for a long time! I’m sorry, it comes with the job. I have a hard time turning it off.”

“It’s okay, I’m not offended or anything,” Harry says, stepping back from the counter. She stands next to Niall and gestures toward her things. “What would you do?”

“Well, for starters,” Niall says slowly, glancing at Harry. It’s a relief to see that she merely looks interested, and not offended. “Not everything has to be out on the sink. You have a lot of storage space that you’re probably not using effectively. The Container Store is having a big sale over Fourth of July weekend, we could go stock up on–”

“Oh, but I like having stuff on the counter,” Harry says, pointing. “See, it’s all arranged in order. There’s my skin routine in the morning, then makeup, then the stuff I use at night. If I put it away, like away away, I’ll forget the right steps. That’s why I started doing it this way.”

Niall looks at the counter, really looking at it this time. To her eye, everything has looked disorganized, the jars and bottles haphazardly placed. But as she looks from left to right, she realizes that Harry does have a system that works for her.  

“I get it now,” she says, turning to Harry. “I don’t know why I didn’t see that before.”

“It’s okay.” Harry wraps her arms around Niall’s neck. “You know you’re my favorite Virgo, right?”

Niall kisses her in lieu of an answer. They both know she knows.

“But maybe…” Harry says, turning her head and looking at the counter. 

“What, babe?” Niall nuzzles Harry’s neck.

“Maybe you could help me clean out the drawers sometime? When I moved, I just brought everything with me and I was so tired unpacking, I just shoved stuff in without cleaning out.”

“It would be my honor,” Niall says, already excited to sort and organize. But she doesn’t want to be pushy about it, so she adds, “Whenever you want. I know it can be a lot.”

“Yeah, not tonight. Maybe in the next couple of weeks? We could pick a Saturday?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Fleabag appears out of nowhere, hopping onto the counter. She steps into the sink and starts lapping at the faucet, even though it’s not turned on.

“I think you meant purr-fect,” Harry laughs. “Get it? Because–”

“That was terrible,” Niall deadpans. “Just for that, I’m not using my new nail brush tonight.”

“But Niall!” Harry puffs out her lower lip in a pout. “We have to break it in.”

“Oh, alright,” Niall says, pretending to acquiesce. “But I’ll need the sink, so–”

“I’ve got her,” Harry says, picking a disgruntled Fleabag up. “I’ll put a glass of water in the kitchen to distract her.”

Niall laughs as Harry walks out of the room, Fleabag struggling in her arms. She has a system now; she keeps a close watch on all of her water glasses. And she runs a Lysol wipe over the kitchen counter before she uses it – which she’ll probably start doing in the bathroom now, too. She might not be a cat person, but she’s figuring out how to live with one. 

*

If Niall had to pick a favorite room in any house to organize, it would be the closet. Most of her clients prefer to see their clothing and accessories displayed, and she loves sectioning by clothing type, time of year, and color. But offices are pretty high up on the list, too; there are so many small things to sort. Luckily, that’s her assignment for the day with her coworker Fletcher. They’d spent two full days on a garage last week, both of them hating every sweaty minute. But this afternoon, Fletcher is happily alphabetizing books while Niall approaches the desk by taking everything out of the drawers first. She hears a thunk in the distance, but doesn’t think much of it. Their client does have young kids. 

But then a big orange cat leaps onto the desk and starts nosing in the open top drawer. Niall laughs, surprised that the cat is just as agile as Fleabag, who’s pretty small.

“Sorry, sorry!” 

Niall turns to see their client Terry in the doorway.

“Is he bothering you? I had the door to the den closed, but one of the kids let him out.”

“No, no,” Niall says, shaking her head. She holds her hand out for the cat to sniff. “He’s cute, what’s his name?”

“That’s Cheddar,” Terry says, smiling as the cat flops down on his back. “My oldest named him after his favorite food.”

“That’s awesome,” Fletcher says as she stands up. She walks over to stand next to Niall. “Kids are so funny.”

“Let him sniff you first,” Niall advises as Fletches moves to pet the cat’s belly.

“Oh, do you have a cat?” Terry asks, leaning against the door jamb.

“Yeah, we– my girlfriend does,” Niall says, ignoring Fletcher as she snorts. “A little tortie.”

“Oh, I bet she’s a sly one,” Terry laughs. “This one, he’s just a lump.”

“A friendly lump,” Fletcher adds, scratching at Cheddar’s belly after he sniffed her hand.

“Just let me know if he gets in your way,” Terry says, straightening up. “Or put him in the hallway and close the door. He’s never bitten anyone, so it should be okay to pick him up.”

“Thanks,” Niall says, petting Cheddar on the head as he starts purring. Loudly. “I bet he’ll be fine after some attention, but will do.”

Fletcher waits until Terry is gone to elbow Niall.

“What?” Niall rubs her side. “Ow.”

“You used to complain about that cat non-stop,” Fletcher laughs. “But now it’s ‘we’ have a tortie? That’s hilarious.” 

“Whatever,” Niall mumbles, pulling out her phone. “Move your hand, I want to text Harry a photo.”

*

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Harry is painting Niall’s toenails on the floor of her living room. She’s already done both their fingernails and her own toes in varying shades of pinks and purples. Apparently Niall is a soft summer, and Harry had chosen her colors carefully. Niall laughs as Harry huffs a breath, a loose curl dangling over her eyes while her hands are occupied. Niall’s too far away to brush it back for her, sitting with her back to the couch and her legs stretched out in front of her. And besides, her hands are occupied, too. She’s tossing a Diet Coke bottle cap for Fleabag, surely the only cat in existence who knows instinctively how to play fetch.

“She really loves that thing,” Niall remarks, watching Fleabag scamper after it into the kitchen. “Way more than her toys.”

“I know,” Harry says, looking up with a laugh. “There’s a whole basket of toys in the corner that she wants nothing to do with.”

“She always looks, like, embarrassed for me when I try to get her to play with one.” Niall picks the bottle cap up when Fleabag returns and throws it again. “But the basket is pretty. It really pulls the room together.”

Fleabag wanders back over to the living room, having already lost interest in their game. She lays down just out of Niall’s reach, and then looks at her expectantly, her tail flapping against the floor when Niall doesn’t pet her right away.

“She can’t be mad!” Niall gestures toward the cat, her pink fingernails gleaming. “I can’t reach her.”

“It’s so funny how she does that,” Harry says, waving her hand over Niall’s toes to make the polish dry faster. “It seems like it’s on purpose sometimes.”

“Baby.” Niall waits until Harry looks up and meets her eyes. “It’s definitely on purpose! She’s so moody. She’s not a Cancer, is she?”

“I wish I knew, actually. When I got her, the vet said she was probably a year old. And that was…”

Niall listens with one ear as Harry talks about her attempts to figure out Fleabag’s astrology chart. The cat’s tail has stopped thumping against the floor, and she’s staring at Niall, but for once it doesn’t seem menacing. She blinks at Niall a few times, slowly.

“Oh my God!”

Niall startles, looking at Harry. “What?”

“Niall! Look at her. She was slow blinking at you!”

“Yeah… so?”

“So, don’t you know what that means?”

Niall looks back at Fleabag, who blinks again.

“It means that she loves you! That’s what cats do. Oh my God, this is so sweet, I have to get a photo! I need a new hashtag for you two. What’s a good pun?”

As Harry flips out, grabbing her phone from the coffee table and lifting it to take a picture, Niall starts to feel the walls closing in on her. This, all of this, Harry and her house and her fucking cat and spending all of their time together, it’s too much suddenly. Niall can’t do this. Any of it. She stands up, causing Harry to squawk at her ruined photo.

“Niall! What are you doing? It’s all blurry now.”

Harry looks up and she must recognize the panic on Niall’s face, because her tone softens immediately.

“Niall? Honey? What’s the matter?”

“I have to go,” Niall declares, the itch that usually precedes a breakup having flared into what feels like hives all over her body. Her forehead beads with sweat. “Yeah, I’m just gonna– I’m gonna go.”

“Niall,” Harry says, standing up. She grabs Niall’s wrists. “You can’t, honey. Your nails are still wet, you can’t put your shoes on.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Niall insists, heat spreading across her chest. “I’ll get them later.”

“Niall,” Harry says, tugging on her wrist until Niall makes eye contact. “Just breathe, honey. You’re okay. Let’s just sit for a minute.”

Niall can’t breathe. She gasps for air, but can’t feel it in her lungs. Harry pulls her over to the couch and they sit.

“It’s okay,” Harry repeats, her voice soothing as she rubs circles on Niall’s back. “Hey, look around the room for me. Can you tell me everything that’s green?”

“Um,” Niall says, breathing harshly. This feels silly, but she knows how stubborn Harry is. She’s not getting out of this. “The couch. Both couches.”

“That’s good! What else?”

Niall looks around the large open space, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest.

“Plants.” She lifts a weak hand to point at the corner.  

“Perfect. Anything else?”

Niall’s breathing starts to slow, and she feels like she can concentrate more as she looks around again. One of the art prints on the wall features lots of green leaves.

“The print,” she says, pointing again. “The one you got in Prague.”

“Yes! Look again, I bet there’s at least one more thing.”

Niall wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, grateful that her heart rate is slowing. She spots a dark green book on one of the shelves across the room.

“That book, that’s green.”

“Do you feel better?”

Niall nods. Now that the panic has subsided, she’s kind of exhausted. But Harry’s looking at her so kindly, she can’t muster any embarrassment.

Harry picks up the reusable water bottle that she just bought for Niall to keep at the house and hands it to her. She waits until Niall has downed at least half of it before speaking again.

“Honey, what happened? One minute you were with me, and the next you weren’t.”

Niall takes a few deep breaths, trying to make something coherent out of the jumbled thoughts racing through her mind. She remembers something from their first date, and figures that’s as good of a place to start as any.

“Do you remember when we were at the botanical gardens and you asked me about being on the chart so much?”

Harry nods. There’s a worried pinch between her eyebrows, but she doesn’t speak, waiting for Niall to explain.

“The truth is… I always break up with people before it gets serious.” Niall scrubs a hand over her face. “I find some dumb reason to break things off, like if she’s a vegan or something.”

Harry waits a few moments, but when Niall doesn’t continue, she asks, “Why do you do that? You… don’t want a relationship?”

“It’s not that exactly,” Niall says slowly, burying her face in her hands. Fuck. She prides herself on being honest, but maybe the one person she hasn’t been completely honest with is herself. And for good reason, this is excruciating. She rests her elbows on her knees, looking at the floor instead of at Harry. “My parents got divorced when I was a kid. Before my dad moved out, they fought all the time. All the time. And then after, it was like they never spoke again. They can barely even be in the same room for graduations. Forget holidays. My sister kept this DVD of their wedding, and we used to watch it after school while my mom was still at work.”

Harry hums sympathetically, rubbing circles on Niall’s back again as she pours her heart out.

“And the thing is, they looked so fucking happy. They’re smiling the whole day, they’re holding hands and dancing and laughing together. And I don’t know what happened. I’ve never been able to understand it. And, Harry…” Niall turns to face her. “There’s no, like, control over that? There’s no manual, no instructions to follow. No guarantees. Sometimes things just fall apart and there’s no reason.”

“And you’re scared,” Harry says simply, immediately getting what it’s taken Niall until now to fully understand. “Of course you are, honey. Of course you are.”

“My sister’s the total opposite,” Niall says with a wry smile. “Always jumping in with both feet, chasing what they didn’t have. Getting married, for fuck’s sake. But me… I just don’t want to go through that.”

“So you’ve always avoided getting serious, so you don’t get hurt. That makes so much sense.” Harry’s forehead wrinkles. “But what upset you earlier? What made you think of it? I was taking a photo of the cat, and…”

Niall can see the moment that it dawns on Harry.

“Something about you saying that Fleabag loves me,” Niall says with a shrug, catching sight of the cat perking up across the room at the sound of her name. “I don’t know, it just hit me all at once how serious all of this is. How serious we are.”

“You don’t have a dumb reason about me, do you? Were you about to end… this? Us?”

“To be totally honest,” Niall says, taking Harry’s hands in hers, “I thought about breaking things off at first because of Fleabag. I wasn’t sleeping, and it just always seemed like she was trying to fuck with me. But Louis made me promise to give you a real chance.”

“Louis,” Harry says, shaking her head. “She’s so fucking nosy.”

“She is,” Niall says softly, lifting her hand to thumb away a tear at the corner of Harry’s eye. “But I’m so fucking glad she’s the nosiest ex of all time, because I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It feels like…”

“What?” Harry whispers, her eyes wide.

“Love. It feels like love. Baby, I love you.”

Harry inhales sharply, as if she’s surprised. And maybe given the context of the conversation, she is, but how this girl doesn’t know that Niall is crazy, head-over-heels, once-in-a-lifetime kind of in love with her is beyond Niall’s comprehension.

“And I freaked out and I’m still pretty scared, to be honest, but when I look at you, I just know. You’re worth it. You’re worth risking the chance of being hurt. You make me so fucking happy. I love being with you, and I even love Fleabag at this point. I would build an entire living room full of tiny furniture for her if you ordered it and then I would spend the rest of the day throwing that stupid bottle cap all day if that’s what she wanted. I’m in. I’m all in.”

Harry smiles, even as a few tears slide down her cheeks.

“I’ve been all in since you said you’d go to that flea market you hate with me. I love you, too.”

Fleabag jumps onto Niall’s lap as if to join the declarations of love, and as they laugh, Niall wonders how much the cat actually understands. 

She’ll have plenty of time to try and figure it out.

*

The wedding takes place on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. 

By the time she sinks into a chair next to Harry to watch the first dance, Niall is fucking exhausted. Her parents have raised avoiding each other into a very stressful art form, and the sleepless night on the couch in the bridal hotel suite didn’t help. She’d tried to get out of it, wanting to be at home with her favorite little spoon and unholy terror of a seven-pound cat, but her sister had pouted and said “pretty, please” just like she always did when they were kids and Niall caved just like she always used to. She was on high alert for last-minute messiness from her family or the bridesmaids (or both), so she hadn’t been able to relax and enjoy the brunch. And getting her hair and makeup done and then squeezing into a long pink dress had been a whole different set of weird and uncomfortable triggers that she really should have brought up months ago, but didn’t because she was trying to be supportive. She’s been mediating and reassuring her sister and fake smiling all day. 

And the worst part is that she’s barely spent any time with her girlfriend. 

“Hi, baby,” Niall says, scooting her chair close to Harry’s and wrapping her arm around her shoulders before giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Harry had been watching the dance floor with a dreamy expression, but now she turns to Niall with a line between her eyebrows. “Why? What for?”

“For leaving you on your own,” Niall says, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “All day. You must be miserable.”

“No, it’s fine, honey,” Harry says, resting her hand on Niall’s thigh. “Totally fine. I sat next to one of your aunts at the ceremony, and she told me all kinds of embarrassing stories about you.”

Niall manages to smile and groan at the same time.

“And I made everyone do an ice breaker when we sat down.” Harry lifts her hand to gesture around the half full table. “My favorite one, we all went around and said a boring fact about ourselves. Between that and the open bar, we’ve been having a great time.”

“Still,” Niall says, pulling Harry close and kissing her temple. “You’ve been amazing, and I really, really appreciate it.”

“I love you,” Harry whispers, resting her hand a few inches higher on Niall’s thigh. 

“I love you, too.”

Harry rests her head against Niall’s and they sit in companionable silence for a while, watching the crowd dance to a mix of uptempo songs. There are at least three generations on the dance floor; plenty of people of Niall's parents’ age mixed with her sister and brother-in-law’s friends and even a few little kids. Normally Niall would be out there with them, tearing it up, but she’s been wearing high heels for hours and her feet are killing her. 

“Did you see Louis’ text earlier?” Harry asks her, reaching for her glass of wine.

“No,” Niall says, glancing over her shoulder at the head table where her ugly pink clutch is lying next to a piece of cake. “I haven’t checked mine all day. What was it?”

“She had a question about the hotel,” Harry says, sitting back. “For Dinah Shore weekend. I checked the Google Doc you created, and texted her back, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

A slow song comes on just as Niall melts. She loves Harry all the time, even when the Aquarius placements in her fourth house rear their ugly head, but sometimes it just hits her all over again just how deeply in love with her she is. She holds a hand out to her, lifting her eyebrow, and Harry beams as she takes it. When they stand, Niall kicks off her heels before leading Harry to the middle of the dance floor. She wraps her arms around Harry’s waist, holding her a little tighter than might be appropriate for a family wedding, but Niall can’t find a fuck to give.

“This is a really nice wedding,” Harry says, looking around the ballroom. “It’s almost enough to make me want to get married someday.”

Niall stumbles, even though they’re mostly just swaying and not actually dancing.

“You– You don’t want to get married?”

“Nah,” Harry says, shrugging as she looks back at Niall. “I’ve just never really been interested? It’s not like you need a big party to really be committed to someone.”

This is something that Niall has lowkey been dreading discussing at some point. Marriage. The idea of it just makes Niall feel itchy. After her parents’ divorce had blown up her childhood, she vowed never to get married herself. And maybe it was weird or problematic of her to assume that her romantic, femme girlfriend would want to have a wedding, but she did.

She takes one of Harry’s hands in hers and kisses the back of it. “I feel the same way.”

“I figured,” Harry says with a little laugh. “You looked physically ill every time the wedding has come up since we started dating. I thought it was time to put you out of your misery.”

“Have I told you that I love you in the last five minutes or so?”

“No,” Harry says, shaking her head. Her expression is serious, but her eyes are twinkling. “A terrible oversight.”

“I’m sorry.” Niall leans in for a soft kiss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She catches sight of her cousin’s young daughter dancing with a stuffed animal and she squints to get a better look. When she sees that the stuffed animal is a cat, she laughs and points it out to Harry.

“Hey, has Zayn texted at all?” she asks, remembering that Zayn had agreed to check on Fleabag since she would be alone all day. “How’s Miss Flee-bee doing?”

“She’s good,” Harry laughs. “Zayn posted a video on her story, she was dancing around to Renee Rapp and Fleef was in the background just staring daggers at her.” 

“That sounds like our girl,” Niall says, laughing. “Hey… Have you ever thought about getting another cat? To keep her company.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, looking thoughtful. “Torties are so independent. It’s a pretty big step, I’m not sure if she’s ready.”

The slow song fades out and “Shout” by the Isley Brothers comes on at full volume. Niall holds onto Harry as people flood the dance floor. It’s probably time to drop the pretense.

“I’m not really talking about Fleabag,” she says, raising her voice so Harry can hear her. “I meant me! Me!”

“I know,” Harry yells back, looking happier than Niall has ever seen her. “Move in with me! With us! Whenever you’re ready!”

“I’m ready,” Niall shouts. It feels like it’s just her and Harry in the room, even though there’s at least a hundred people trying to cram on the tiny dance floor and sing their hearts out. “Baby, I’m ready!”

For the first time in a relationship, Niall feels sure. Ready. There’s no itch to run, to get away. And she can accept that she’ll spend the rest of her life owing Louis for making her give Harry a chance. She’s worth it. 

They’re worth it.