Archive of Our Own

It's incredible, Harry thinks, how much he's learned about Louis in the course of five, almost six years.

There's the standard things of course: Louis' favourite colour, his favourite food, his favourite TV show, the way he takes his tea. How he likes to pull pranks, how he likes to tease Harry, and how he always makes himself louder, his presence big enough to fill a room.

Then there's the more intimate things: how Louis likes to aggressively cuddle things, how he sings quietly in the shower every morning, how, when he gets sad, he just clams up--curls in on himself and refuses to speak until he's thought everything through twice over, until he's confident enough in the words he's going to say.

Then there are the things that are for Harry and Harry alone--like the way Louis looks asleep, in their king-sized bed. The way Louis looks waking up, when his eyes are bleary and his blinks slow. The way he smiles at Harry and he looks like the sun rising.

It's not only the sappy stuff though. Harry also knows that Louis likes having his arse played with, likes fingers up in him, likes the way they stretch him open. He knows that Louis prefers being eaten out than having his dick sucked, and that no matter how much he complains, he does actually like when Harry lavishes his attention on his pretty arse.

Oh, and he's actually really got a thing for Harry's clothes. Like, a really huge thing. Bigger than Harry ever expected it to be.

He won't admit it, though. Despite the overwhelming evidence (meaning, all of Harry's clothes that he's ruined), he still 'hates' on Harry's clothes, pretending to roll his eyes every time Harry breaks out a new, particularly colourful shirt. Sometimes he tells Harry that they remind him of the curtains in his grandmum's house, which, ouch. His grandmum's curtains aren't that ugly, Harry's seen them. He quite likes them.

The point is that Louis won't admit it, and usually Harry would let him do whatever he wants, would go around pretending not to acknowledge this, this kink he has, but Louis isn't speaking to him, hasn't been speaking to him for a few days except to order Harry around, and Harry's kind of tired of being ignored.

So he devises a plan.

Well, sort of.

They're filming the music video for History today--their last music video in a while--and the instructions given to them were rather simple; they've got one set-up, and they can wear whatever they like, as long as it doesn't blend with the brick wall in the back. The other boys still opted to get their stylist to choose their clothes from the many piles of stuff they were given, but not Harry. Harry is a man on a mission. Harry has a plan.

Louis' eyes darken the instant he catches sight of Harry, and Harry tries to hold back a smirk as Louis gives him a rather obvious once-over. Liam's in front of him, talking a mile a minute, but it's obvious that Louis isn't listening anymore, staring rapt at Harry over Liam's shoulder.

Harry waggles his fingers.

Louis rolls his eyes.

He makes his way over to them, shaking a few of the production crew's hands along the way, and he's about ten feet away when he's attacked by a wild Irishman.

"Harry," Niall says breathlessly, "what's her name?"

Harry turns to him. He's already dressed for the music video, with his hair properly styled. His glasses, though, are a bit askew, probably from barrelling into Harry from...wherever it is he came from.

"Um," Harry says, reaching over to fix Niall's glasses. Niall doesn't even blink, simply stays still and waits for Harry's response. "Who?"

"Her," Niall gestures vaguely to his right. "I can't point, cause it'd be obvious we're talking about her, but what's her name?"

Harry squints at the mass of people towards Niall's right. "Niall, there are like fifteen people there right now. Which one are you talking about?"

"Her," Niall answers stubbornly. He makes a gesture to his right again, like it helps. Which, it doesn't. The entire production crew is gathered right there for a company call. "The girl, in the black."

"Niall, there are six girls and they're all in black."

"She's in black-black," Niall clarifies. "Like black, but, more black."

"...Um?"

"Never mind," Niall dismisses, looking annoyed. Which, is unfair, because really, Harry's just trying to help. "You're useless."

He stalks off, probably going back to where he came from, and Harry stares at him a few seconds, before he makes his way over to where Liam and Louis are.

"Harry!" Liam exclaims when Harry's within reach. He slings one arm around Harry's shoulders, giving him a quick side hug. "How are you, mate?"

"I just saw you yesterday," Harry answers, looking at Louis. Who isn't looking back; he's got his eyes trained at something on the floor and is steadfastly ignoring Harry's presence.

Harry doesn't know how many times he needs to apologize before Louis forgives him. He highly suspects that Louis has already forgiven him, and is just taking the piss out of him.

He narrows his eyes. Two can play at that game.

Liam squeezes his shoulder. "I saw you talking to Niall, a few moments ago," he says. "Was he asking about--" he makes air quotes "--'her'?"

"Yeah," Harry answers, turning to look at Liam. "About the girl in the black, yeah? He asked you too?"

"Yep," Liam tells him. "I told him that they were all in black."

"That's what I said!" Harry exclaims. He turns to look at the production crew again, who have now scattered off to do whatever it is production crew do. "I really want to help him, honest, but I really don't see her."

"It's cause you're blind," Louis says, out of the blue. It's the first thing Louis has said to him in the past few days that's not 'make me breakfast' or some variation thereof, and it makes Harry a bit giddy. Finally.

He schools his face into a neutral expression. "Oh," he says, feigning shock. "So you're talking to me properly now?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "Do you see another blind person around here? Liam isn't, so." He shrugs.

Harry frowns. "I'm not blind."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

"Oh," Liam says, stepping back. He takes his arm off Harry's shoulder ."Are you two fighting?"

"No," Harry says, because they aren't. Really. Louis is just being a pain in the arse.

"Oh, we're fighting," Louis tells Liam, his eyes fixed on Harry's. He raises a challenging eyebrow and makes himself stand taller. "We're definitely fighting."

"No we're not," Harry insists.

"Well, I'm mad at you," Louis says, crossing his arms, "so I'd say we're definitely fighting."

"I said I was sorry," Harry says, his brow furrowed. He takes a step forward and immediately, Louis takes a step back. "I didn't mean to do it."

"But you did anyway," Louis says angrily, dramatically, and really, Harry kind of wants to bash his head against the wall. It's not even something to get really butthurt over. It's not even that serious.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologizes, still, because the best thing to do in situations like this is to follow Louis' lead. He takes a step forward, and this time Louis doesn't take a step back. "I'm really sorry, baby."

Louis still shoots him a pointed look. "Do you even mean it?"

What? "Of course I mean it," Harry answers. "I mean it from the absolute bottom of my heart."

"And the shirt is what, then?" Louis fires back. He waves a hand toward Harry's torso. "Are we going to pretend that you didn't wear it to goad me into talking to you?"

 Damn. Louis saw right through his plan.

"No," Harry says, pinching the bottom of the shirt in between his thumb and index finger. "I wore it because I like it."

Louis snorts. "Sure you did."

"I do," Harry insists. It's not the whole truth, but it's a bit of the truth, which is better than, well, outright lying, right? "Look at it, it's lace."

"I know," Louis answers, and Harry can tell he's obviously trying not to roll his eyes. "And when have you ever worn lace shirts?"

"I've worn see-through shirts," Harry says, "lace is no different."

"Mostly because you wanted to see me in them," Louis dismisses. "I know you, Harry. I know your tactics."

"Not everything I do revolves around you, you know," Harry answers, trying not to let his frustration show on his face. He's pretty sure he fails, because he's never been good at hiding his emotion, and Louis can read him like an open book. "Has it occurred to you that I wear it for me?"

Louis doesn't say anything, just raises a questioning eyebrow. He's still in his defensive stance, his arms crossed, and, God, Harry hates it when they fight. He doesn't want to ever fight with Louis again.

Now if Louis would just fucking accept his apology, that would be grand.

"This is like watching my parents fight," Harry hears Liam whisper to someone. "I don't like it."

"I know," Harry hears Niall answer. He must've joined their little circle while they were bickering. Because they're not fighting, nor are they arguing. They're just. Bickering. "I don't want them to fight. Please don't fight. I'd rather they fuck in front of us than fight."

"No," Liam answers, scandalized. Harry tries not to laugh.

Louis, Harry can tell, is also having the same problem. He can see the flash of laughter in his eyes, the way his lips twitch up in a smile, before he's forcing it down again, keeping his expression neutral. Louis was always much better at a poker face.

"Lou," Harry says. He steps forward again, but Louis doesn't let him, takes another step back. Harry tries not to be disappointed. "I'm really sorry."

Louis studies him critically. And then, he smiles. "No."

Harry, Liam, and Niall all simultaneously groan.

. . .

So, maybe his plan didn't work out as flawlessly as he imagined. Louis has always been a bit of a wild card, and Harry can never really predict what he'll do next. He can try, and sometimes he gets it right, but usually he's left floundering in the dark.

Maybe he should just stick to actually trying to talk it out with Louis. Again. Maybe Louis will let him have a proper conversation, this time.

They're called to do a few test shots by the director and the camera men, but then there seems to be a problem with one of the cameras, so they're sent back to their dressing rooms for a bit while they try to figure out this problem. Louis, despite being mad at Harry, still decided to share a dressing room with him, which Harry takes as a good sign. He can't be that mad. He just wants to be a pain. A pain whom Harry is so in love with.

They walk in silence back to their dressing room, their steps in sync. Harry ends up staring at him for most of the walk, trying to get Louis to talk to him, but it doesn't work--Louis doesn't even turn to look at him. He does smile, though, when Harry almost trips over his own feet, and Harry counts that as a win. Sort of.

Finally, when they reach their dressing room, Louis addresses him. "What, Harry?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry again," Harry blurts out. He looks down at his toes, and twists them toward each other, like a child being scolded. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"I know it won't," Louis answers, pushing into the dressing room and flopping down on the sofa in the middle of the room. He looks up at Harry. "I know you didn't mean it. But, if I'm being honest, I was hurt."

"I'm sorry again," Harry offers feebly. "Really, Lou." Although he doesn't think that what he did warrants this much apologizing. But, whatever Louis wants. He just wants Louis to talk to properly talk to him again.

Louis sighs. "I know, love. It's alright."

Harry perks up at that. "Really?"

"Sure," Louis answers, shrugging. He toys with the cuffs of his sweater, before shooting Harry a smirk. "But you're not just going to walk out of here like nothing ever happened."

"I'm not?" Harry asks, deflating a bit.

"Nope," Louis answers. "I demand compensation for the hurt and trouble I underwent."

"What hurt and trouble?" Harry asks incredulously. "You literally--"

"Shush," Louis interrupts. "I'm the hurt party in this situation, and I want compensation."

Harry sighs. Louis wasn't even hurt, is the thing. It wasn't anything that bad. But, the best way to deal with this is to just go along with whatever Louis says, so, sure. "Fine. What do you want?"

Louis studies him critically, and Harry can already see the gears turning in his head, devising a plan. Probably a better, much more thought-out plan that Harry's own. "Later."

"But you'll start talking to me properly now, right?" Harry asks, straightening up. Because, yes, finally, they're going somewhere.

Louis shoots him a cheeky grin. "Nah," he answers, and Harry deflates. He hears Louis giggle. "Don't look like that, love. I promise I'll talk to you again when I get compensation."

Harry pouts at him. "Can I have a kiss though?" He's really missed kissing Louis these last few days, especially since Harry could only kiss him when he was sleeping. When he was awake, he avoided Harry's kisses with such grace and such skill that it had seemed like something out of the Matrix.

Louis sighs, like he's put-upon, but Harry can see his eyes twinkling with happiness. He must've missed it too, Harry realizes. Being mad at each other is so much effort. Which is why they shouldn't be mad at each other anymore.

 He beckons Harry closer. "Fine," he says, "but just one."

Harry wastes no time in stepping closer to Louis, cupping his face, and leaning down and kissing him. He goes straight in right away, his tongue mapping out the contours of Louis' mouth, and Louis moans softly into his mouth, opening up for Harry. Harry doesn't stop kissing him, doesn't stop tasting Louis until his lungs start to burn, from the lack of air.

He breaks off and takes a deep breath, pressing his forehead to Louis'. Louis is still seated and Harry's still standing, and his back is starting to hurt but Harry wants to stay like this, for a little while longer.

"There's your kiss," Louis murmurs into the space between them.

Harry makes a noise and leans forward and kisses Louis again, harder.

"You should stop now," Louis says, when Harry breaks off a few moments later. "I said one kiss. Besides, that position is bad for your back."

Harry pouts. "Can I at least make it three kisses? So they can stand for 'I love you'?"

"That's the most disgusting thing you've ever said," Louis tells him, rolling his eyes, but he lets Harry have one more kiss. Harry makes this one last longer, makes this one much gentler and much softer, much like their early morning kisses, when neither of them want to get up and move yet.

They're still kissing when there's a knock on the door.

Harry whines when Louis pushes him away.

"Um," one of the production crew says. She's holding a clipboard and wearing a headset, and Harry tries frantically to remember her name. "We're going to start shooting again, in a bit, so." She jerks her thumb outside.

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but Louis beats him to it. "Thank you, Alice, we'll be right out."

She smiles at them and closes the door behind her, and Harry turns back to Louis, raising an eyebrow. "Alice?"

Louis reaches up toward Harry, and Harry grabs his wrists, pulling him up from the couch. "That's her."

"Um," Harry says. "Yeah, I figured that out. That was Alice."

Louis rolls his eyes. "No, you don't get it. That's--" he makes air quotes "--'her'. As in 'her' her."

It takes a while for Harry to get it. "That's Niall's her?"

Louis shakes his head. "You really are blind, aren't you?"

"It's not my fault I can't tell a black outfit from an even more black outfit!"

"You don't have to," Louis answers, shrugging. "Just look at her."

Harry thinks about it for a few moments, before it finally clicks. "Lou, she's exactly Niall's type!"

Louis sighs. "See why I said you were blind?"

. . .

"Her name's Alice," Harry singsongs into Niall's ear when they're on set. He's got his eyes trained on Alice, who's standing in front of them, doing something with the lights.

Niall turns to him so quickly that Harry gets dizzy. "That's her name?" He jerks his head toward her.

Harry waggles his eyebrows. He bites at his bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide.

"That's her!" Niall exclaims, wrapping Harry up in a large bear hug. He pulls away, grinning, his face a bit flushed. "I finally have a name for my mystery girl in black! Alice! Like the cartoon character! The one who got high on weed!"

"Uh, she fell into a hole and ended up in Wonderland," Harry tells Niall. "She didn't get high on weed."

Niall waves a hand. "Whatever. You have your interpretation, and I have mine. The point is, she has a lovely name. Now I can go talk to her. No more awkward trying to figure out her name."

"Good luck," Harry says, clapping him on the back. "Go get `em, tiger, and all that."

Niall takes a deep breath. He takes one step forward, pauses, turns and walks back toward Harry. "What am I gonna talk to her about?"

Harry shrugs. "Wonderland?" He tries not to giggle at his own suggestion.

Niall gives him a look. "Louis," he whisper-shouts, and Louis turns to him, from his conversation with Liam. He takes a few steps forward, so that he's right beside Harry.

"Yeah?"

"What do I talk to Alice about?"

"Why are you asking me?" Louis asks. "Wonderland, I guess?"

Harry really doesn't mean to laugh, but, well.

"You guys are the worst," Niall complains. He waves his hand for emphasis. "The absolute fucking worst."

"Did Harry say that? Louis already say that, shooting Harry a cheeky grin, one that Harry returns easily. "Then, um, the Mad Hatter?"

"The Cheshire cat," Harry pitches in. "Or that huge Caterpillar."

"The Queen of Hearts!" Louis exclaims.

Niall sighs. "Look, I'm glad you guys aren't fighting anymore, but you don't have to team up on me right now."

"Oh we're still fighting," Louis tells Niall. "Definitely still fighting."

"Yep," Harry nods seriously. "Still fighting." He waves a hand. "Niall, just talk to her, like a normal person?"

"Wait, you're still fighting?" Niall asks incredulously. "Why haven't you made up yet?"

"Harry hasn't given me due compensation," Louis tells Niall. "We're fighting until he gives it to me."

"What do you want from him?" Niall asks, his brow furrowed. He pauses. "Wait, this is a sex thing, isn't it?"

Louis scoffs. "It's nothing, Niall. He doesn't know what I want, either." He winks at Harry. If Harry wasn't sure it was a sex thing before, he's sure it's a sex thing now. "Now, how about you go talk to Alice like a normal person, eh?"

Niall takes a deep breath. "Like a normal person. Okay. I can do that. I'm normal."

"Debatable," Harry murmurs under his breath, and Louis laughs. Harry laughs too,

He takes another deep breath and confidently steps forward. He's gotten about two steps in when Alice looks up from where she's fixing the lights.

"Um, excuse me," she says, fixing Niall with a look, fierce enough that it makes Niall look suitably cowed. "Please go back to where we blocked you."

"...What?" Niall asks.

She sighs. "I'm trying to fix the lights," she says, waving her hand to the stand-alone lights she has beside her. "There is a little dot there somewhere, on the floor. Please go back to it. And just--" she waves her hand "--stay in that area."

"Okay," Niall answers. He takes two steps back, so he's in the area again. He raises a hand. "I'm, uh, Niall, by the way."

"That's nice," she says, and goes back to fixing the lights. She doesn't say anything, after that. Neither does Niall.

Harry and Louis burst into laughter.

. . .

So it's a sex thing.

The thing Louis wants him to do is a sex thing.

Well, it's not like Harry wasn't expecting it. Usually when Louis wants Harry to make up for something, he either tortures Harry through making him do all the errands around the house, or he tortures Harry using sex. He prefers the latter to the former though, because Harry actually enjoys doing the housework, and Louis knows this.

Harry sits down on the couch in the middle of his dressing room. They're currently on a break, and Harry's exhausted. Despite this music video being much simpler than their old ones, it still takes up so much time. He's had to mouth the words to 'History' about ten times now, and he's kind of annoyed.

The only thing keeping him alert is Louis' compensation. A sex thing. Hm.

Harry wonders what Louis will do. Louis has this tendency to spring surprises when Harry least expects it, which gets Harry all flustered, to the point that he can't think straight, anymore. He's still not over that time during the Apple Music Festival, when Louis wore pink lingerie just because Harry had claimed, as a joke, that they should match. Or that time Harry came home to Louis in his furry vest, naked and asleep, with a plug in his arse.

Maybe it's going to happen now. Maybe Louis is going to get on him, get him hard, and leave him, so that Harry will have blue balls and will have to try and make his stiffy go away. Maybe he'll tease Harry all throughout the shoot, until Harry is aching for it, begging to get his hands on Louis.

That's not going to happen. Harry will be prepared, this time.

He unbuttons his jeans and quickly pulls it down, so it's mid thigh. He pulls the waistband of his boxers down, enough  so that he can draw his (still soft) dick out. He keeps it in his hand.

There. Now he's ready.

It doesn't take long until the dressing room door opens and Louis enters. He takes one look at Harry, sprawled out on the couch, his dick soft in his hand, and snorts.

"Put that thing back," he says, obviously trying not to laugh. He reaches over, making a motion as if to slap it. Harry protectively covers it with his hand. "I'm not impressed."

Harry shrugs. "I just thought you wanted to see my dick," he says innocently, but obediently tucks it back in his boxers. "I was excited for the sex thing."

"Who said it's a sex thing?" Louis asks, making his way over to where their bags are, tossed in a corner.

"Um," Harry says. "It's obviously a sex thing?"

"But what if it's not?" Louis challenges. He bends down, rummaging through one of the bags.

"It obviously is?" Harry says. "Like, if it's not, I'd just be confused."

"I won't make it a sex thing, then," Louis answers, his focus still on the bags. He bends over even more, his hands pulling out random items, and Harry turns his head to takes a peek at his arse.

It's a really lovely arse.

"So you're saying it is a sex thing," Harry crows, "Or at least, it was a sex thing."

Louis sighs. "Stop trying to figure it out, or I'll get mad." He makes a noise of triumph pulling out a set of keys from the bag. It takes a moment for Harry to realize that those are his keys.

"Don't you have your own?" Harry asks, as he watches Louis study the keys. Louis picks one out, unhooks it from the keychain and puts it in his pocket. He drops the rest of the keys into Harry's bag.

"I'm just borrowing it," Louis says, patting his pocket. "For later."

"For our sex thing."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Stop saying 'sex thing'."

Harry pouts at him. He was really enjoying saying it. "Fine. But it is a sex thing, right?"

Louis gives him a look. "Stop."

. . .

Watching Niall try to flirt with Alice is probably the most hilarious thing Harry has ever seen in his twenty-one, almost twenty-two years of existence.

For one, he's so smitten to the point that he's so awkward. Niall's usually very cool and calm, but watching him just stumble over his words as he tries to ask her questions about herself is just so fucking funny. Harry can't stop watching. It's like watching a trainwreck.

She's also incredibly fierce, Harry realizes. Of course she has to be fierce, she's doing production, but she's just not taking any of Niall's shit, simply blinking at him and going, 'um, okay'. Harry strongly suspects that she's really just doing this to give Niall a hard time.

"I'm actually rooting for them," Liam whispers to him, as he, Louis and Harry watch Niall try to flirt. "Like, look, at that."

"I play the guitar for some of our songs in our concerts," they hear Niall say."Well, I used to, when we still had concerts. But yeah. I play the guitar."

"Um, okay cool," Alice says blankly, as she fixes the lights. Harry, Louis and Liam giggle simultaneously.

"This is so fucking funny," Louis says. He's got a hand covering his mouth and his eyes are crinkled up.

"It's absolutely ridiculous," Harry answers, his eyes fixed at where Niall is explaining something to Alice, his hands waving around. Alice just blinks up at him, like she's confused as to what he's doing here. "It's so bad it's ridiculous."

"I'm still not talking to you, Harold," Louis says dismissively.

"Of course you're not," Harry answers.

"Can you, uh, go back your bandmates," they hear Alice ask, and they collectively giggle. "I have to fix the lights now. Again. Because that's my job."

"Oh," Niall answers. "Okay. Cool. Talk to you later."

He extends a hand to her. Alice blinks at it for a few moments, looking like she doesn't understand why there's a hand in front of him her. Niall eventually retracts it, using it to shoot her a rather awkward wave, before he's speed-walking back to the others.

"Don't," he hisses, when he's near enough. "Don't say anything."

There's a pause.

"Guess he didn't find Wonderland," Louis murmurs.

"Unlike Taylor Swift," Liam puts in.

. . .

Louis disappears right after the director calls 'cut', quick enough that Harry can't catch him. Harry isn't worried too worried; Louis has a tendency to do that and Harry knows he'll reappear again, right before Harry decides to go home, or at home, already playing FIFA.

His stuff are still in the dressing room, which means that he's somewhere around the area, just hiding. Harry takes off his shirt, and quickly changes into one of Louis' hoodies, before throwing the lace shirt down on the couch. Louis didn't tell him, but Harry knows that Louis very obviously wants it for their sex thing. He saw the way Louis was observing it, a while ago.

He goes out again, to thank the production crew and the director, but mostly to watch Niall, who's still fruitlessly talking to Alice. It's actually turning out to be like one of those trashy reality TV shows. It's so addicting to watch.

"Do you want to go out for a drink next time?" Niall asks, just as Harry's within hearing range. He made it to the good part, then. Awesome.

"Oh," Alice says. "Um." She turns around to take the lights down. "I have a boyfriend."

There's a silence.

"What the fuck," Niall says incredulously. His eyes are wide, behind his glasses, and he looks like someone just pulled the rug from underneath his feet. "You have a boyfriend?"

"I do," Alice answers. She turns to take down the lights, efficiently folding them down for storage.

"A boyfriend?"

 "Yep," Alice nods. She turns to look at Niall over her shoulder, bursting into laughter at the expression she finds there. "Aw, you're cute."

And then she's gone, off to dismantle another light, and Harry and Niall are left staring at her retreating back.

"That's that, then," Niall says. He still looks a bit gobsmacked. Kind of like Chicken Little, when he saw that the sky was falling.

Harry shrugs. "Maybe Selena wants to hang out?" Last he checked, Niall and Selena were close. He doesn't know if they're friends or more than that, but they're cute together.

"Maybe," Niall says, his voice contemplative. He thinks for a few moments, before he shakes his head. "Oh, yeah. Tommo told me to tell you that he went home, and that he'll see you there."

"He left already?"

"Yeah, he said he wanted to prepare some stuff."

Oh. "Oh," Harry says. "For our sex thing."

Niall looks at him. "He also specifically told me to tell you that it's not a sex thing."

"Which means it's definitely a sex thing."

Niall shrugs. "Yeah, obviously."

Harry claps Niall on the back. "Cheers."

He heads back to his dressing room to gather his things, rolling his eyes at the mess he finds there. Louis must have decided that it would be a good idea to play with Harry's stuff, to the point that all the things that were previously in his bag, is now strewn about the room.

Louis' stuff, he notices, when he finishes packing his own things, are already gone, together with the lace shirt Harry had left in the sofa. Louis must've took it home, then.

The ride home is quick, about twenty minutes, and it's only as he's walking up the door to his and Louis' house that it occurs to him that Louis might have stolen his house key and locked him out. He frantically digs into his bag, pulling out his keys, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees it still there, hanging from his keychain.

So Louis didn't lock him out.

The house is quiet when he enters, the lights on, but no sound coming from anywhere. He toes off his shoes by the door, and drops his bag by the sofa in the living room. He'll pick them up later. First he has to find his wayward boyfriend.

"Lou?" He calls out, padding towards the kitchen. The lights are on, and there's an empty mug by the sink, which means Louis' been here. He's not here now, but he's been here.

He checks their office, their dining room, their basement, and even their laundry room, but Louis isn't there. The lights are all on though, and Harry sighs as he flicks them off. He knows that they have money, so much money that Harry doesn't even know what to do with it, but that doesn't mean Louis should turn on all the lights. That's just wasteful.

"Lou?" He calls again. He climbs the stairs two at a time. "Lou? Are you here?"

His phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out, his brow furrowed.

Louis is calling him. But through FaceTime. Weird.

Harry shrugs and answers it. "Lou?"

"Hey," Louis says happily, on the tiny screen of Harry's phone. He smiles at Harry and leans back, lying on the pillows. He's in the bedroom, then. "You're here!"

"I am," Harry says, making his way down the hallway towards their bedroom. "What are you doing?"

Louis ignores him. He shifts upward on the bed, enough that Harry catches sight of what he's wearing. It makes Harry stop short.

"You're wearing my shirt," he says, dumbfounded.

"I always wear your shirts," Louis dismisses. "I don't know why you consistently act all shocked about it."

"No, but, you're wearing my shirt, now, even while you're mad at me," Harry says excitedly. "That means I was right! It's a sex thing!"

Louis rolls his eyes. "No, it's not."

"It is," Harry insists. He leans on the wall of  their hallway. "It's a sex thing." Not like he wasn't sure of it before, but, well. It's nice to get confirmation.

"Fine," Louis sighs. "It's a sex thing."

"Yes!" Harry fist pumps. "I called it!" He bounces on the balls of his feet. "It's a sex thing, yaaaay."

"Shut up," Louis says. "It wasn't supposed to be a sex thing."

"Oh, come off it," Harry answers. "It was always supposed to be a sex thing, and you know it."

"It wasn't."

"O-kay."

Louis just rolls his eyes again, before he's moving again, obscuring the camera. Harry squints down at it, trying to figure out what's going on.

He gives up after a bit. "Lou," he says, "what are you doing?"

"The sex thing," Louis answers, his voice a bit muffled, and then, "there!"

The camera finally stays steady, at the foot of the bed, and Louis is resurfacing again, popping up on the screen. He climbs their king-sized bed delicately, leaning back on the pillows. Enough so Harry can take a good look at him, wearing Harry's lace shirt. And nothing but Harry's lace shirt.

"Can you see me?" Louis asks. He shifts a bit, so that the lace shirt rides up, exposing more of his thighs. Harry swallows loudly.

"Yeah," he answers."I can see you."

"Good," Louis says, and then he's reaching over, out of the screen, rummaging for something. He comes back with a bottle of lube, and two fingers slicked up.

Harry should be ashamed by how quickly his cock perks up at that, but.

"Hm," Louis says, squinting at the camera on the foot of the bed. He wiggles a bit and spreads is legs, enough so Harry gets a view of his arse.

"I didn't think this through much," Louis confesses after a moment.

"You're doing fine," Harry says, his eyes fixed at Louis' hole. It's pink and so, so pretty. God, Harry wants to taste it.

He makes his way down the hallway, to the end, where the double doors of their bedroom lie. The sooner he gets to put his hands on Louis, the sooner he can kiss him, taste him, the better for everyone involved, really. They can stop bickering in front of the others, and--

The doorknob doesn't turn.

Harry freezes. On screen, Louis' face changes into a smirk.

He rattles it again. It doesn't budge.

"Fuck," Harry whispers, his eyes widening, when he realizes what, exactly Louis has done. He frantically pulls out his keys and searches through them, looking for the one that opens their bedroom door.

It's not there.

"Fuck," Harry says again, dropping his keys on the floor. He turns his gaze to his phone. "Louis, what the fuck."

Louis shrugs innocently. Harry can see his cock filling up, in between the gap of Harry's shirt. Teasing always gets Louis going.

Not like he can say anything about it. It's got the same effect on him, as well.

Harry rattles the door again. "Louis, let me in please."

Louis shakes his head. "Nope," he says.

"Louis. Please."

Louis ignores him then, and Harry can see his brow furrowing, can see his finger trailing down, down, down--

--until it reaches his hole, so pink and pretty, and so fucking grainy, in Harry's little iPhone screen. He circles his finger around his rim twice, before pushing in the tip.

Louis moans exaggeratedly. Harry's cock twitches at the sound.

"Oh," Louis moans, as he slowly, torturously pushes his finger into him. Harry can do nothing but watch as he opens up, as he stretches to take more of himself in.

Harry's grip on the doorknob tightens. "Louis."

"Harry," Louis answers breathlessly. He grinds down on his finger, and Harry can see him wiggling it, trying to stretch himself open.

"Louis." He rattles the doorknob again, even though he knows it's fruitless. His cock is painful, in his skinny jeans, and Harry takes his hand off the doorknob and presses the heel of his palm on it. "This is torture."

"This is compensation," Louis shoots back. He's got his finger fully inside him now, and he pulls it out, until only the tip is in. He pushes it in his hole, again, and he throws his head back and moans, exaggeratedly, like some kind of porn star.

Like Harry's own personal porn star. One he's not allowed to touch.

Fuck, what did he do to deserve this?

"You know fucking well what you did," Louis snaps, still fucking himself with a finger. Harry hadn't realized that he'd said that out loud. "You left me."

"Louis," Harry whines. He presses his back to the wall and slides down until he's sitting on the ground. "I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to do it."

"You put me in danger, Harry," Louis sniffs. He pulls his finger out, and reaches off- screen, only to come back with two fingers slicked up.

"I would never," Harry says fiercely. He balances his phone on the wall beside him and quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling his cock from out of his boxers. "You weren't in any danger."

"You left me, Harry," Louis says. Harry watches as he pushes the second finger in with the first, pausing to scissor it to stretch himself out a bit more. "You left me all alone."

"Yeah," Harry answers. He licks at his palm, before wrapping a hand around his cock. "In the shop. It's not like I left you on the edge of the cliff, or summat. You weren't in any danger."

"I was!" Louis exclaims, dramatically. "There were people, Harry, what if one of them was a serial murderer--"

"It was just fucking Sainsbury's!" Harry interrupts. "I doubt there are serial murderers there!"

"There are serial murderers everywhere," Louis answers, and, okay, this kind of talk should turn Harry off, but Louis is fucking himself with his fingers, and Harry can hear the squelch of the lube and, he just wants to fucking touch Louis, please. Before he dies of frustration.

He settles for jerking himself off. He uses his thumb to collect the precome at the head of his dick and slick up his shaft.

"You asked me if I wanted to come with you to the shop," Louis continues, and Harry closes his eyes. "And I agreed. Then we proceeded to grocery shop, and I said, by the check-out--"

"That you'd be right back, I know," Harry grits out. He gets it, it was his mistake.

"I wanted to get my favourite cereal," Louis says. He lets out a long groan, his body twisting, trying to make his fingers go in deeper. "And when I came back, you were gone. You fucking left me at Sainsbury's, Harry."

"I'm sorry," Harry says, because that's all he can really say. He did accidentally leave Louis at Sainsbury's.

In his defence, Louis never comes grocery shopping with him, and he'd seen a poster about an art sale happening a few blocks over.

"You forgot about me," Louis accuses. There's sweat glinting on his throat, and his skin is flushed, a lovely contrast to the yellow of Harry's shirt. "You fucking forgot me."

"I would never," Harry says earnestly, or as earnestly as he can with his hand wrapped around his dick. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"Do I mean absolutely nothing to you?" Louis demands, which, wow, that isn't fair. Louis is probably the most important thing in his life.

"You're the most important thing in my life," Harry says. He twists his hand when he reaches the tip of his dick, the way Louis does it when he's giving him handjobs, and he moans loudly. "I promise. It won't happen again."

"Damn right," Louis says. He pulls his fingers out of his arse, reaching over to slick up his third finger. "I'm never going grocery shopping with you again."

Harry chokes out a laugh.

Louis pushes in all three fingers, and Harry watches as his hole stretches to accommodate the intrusion. He's so stretched, so wide, and so fucking wet with lube that Harry's cock gives a jerk at that.

He could come just at watching Louis, just jerking off to the video of him, but that's no fun. He wants to feel Louis' skin beneath his fingers, wants to touch him and bend him and mark him up.

He forces himself to stop jerking himself off, to grab the base of his dick. He breathes in, trying to will his hard-on down, at least for a bit.

It's a bit challenging, seeing as Harry refuses to take his eyes away from Louis, on the screen.

"Baby," he says. His hand twitches. "Talk to me."

Louis peeks down at the camera.  "Why'd you stop?"

Harry bites on his bottom lip. "Want to come inside you."

"Yeah?" Louis asks. He pushes his fingers deeper, his hands bent at an angle, and Harry knows he's looking for it, looking for his prostate. "Tough luck, Harry Styles. You get this, or nothing."

Harry whines. "Louis."

"Oh," Louis moans loudly, and Harry knows he's found it, can tell by the way he jumps, as if electrocuted, can tell by the way he starts grinding down on his fingers even more.

"If you let me in," Harry tries to bargain, "I'll finger you? So you don't have to get cramps?"

Louis barks out a laugh. "Nice try, Harold." He shifts on his fingers. "I can handle a little bit of cramps."

"Louis, please," Harry begs. He uses his free hand to bang on the door, and he watches as Louis jumps in surprise at the sound.

Louis turns to glare at the camera. "Don't do that."

Harry does it again, just to be a little shit.

"One more and I'll turn the fucking camera off, I swear," Louis threatens. He starts fucking himself with three fingers, his hand a steady pace. Harry watches as Louis' hips grind down to meet his fingers, to try and get them in him deeper.

Harry starts jerking himself off again, his eyes fixed at where Louis' fingers disappear into his arse, and oh, how he wants to touch Louis, to slap Louis' fingers away, to push his fingers in and set a relentless pace that has Louis crying out, begging to be fucked.

"Look at you," Harry says, his hand moving faster and faster on his shaft. If this is his only option for release, then he's going to fucking take it. "Bet you feel so empty right now, don't you?"

"I've got my fingers in my arse," Louis answers. "I'm not empty."

"But is it enough?" Harry asks, as Louis pulls away and returns with all four fingers, lubed up. "I bet you wish they were my fingers, don't you?"

Louis whines.

"My fingers in your arse, stretching you open, getting you ready for my cock," Harry continues. He can feel the familiar pooling in his gut, one that means that he's close, so close.

He doesn't want to come yet, though, so he grits his teeth and forces himself to slow his strokes down.

"You're so open," Harry says, his eyes glued to Louis on screen. "So, so open. I bet if I came in there now, I'd be able to slide right in, wouldn't I?"

Louis moans at that. He uses his free hand to wrap around his cock, spreading the precome down his shaft.

"You'd like that, yeah, baby?" Harry continues. He squeezes the base of his cock and resumes his strokes, slowly. "You like the thought of me just sliding into you, easy and effortless, don't you?"

 "No," Louis answers, but his hand speeds up, jerking himself off with surprising speed. He bucks up into his hand, fucking into the air, and he looks like absolute sin.

"You do," Harry replies, his hand moving again. "You like feeling all stretched out and open, like the idea that I can just fuck you, whenever I want, whenever I feel like it. That I can slide my fingers into you, play with your arse for a bit, yeah?"

Louis moans in response.

"Maybe my tongue and my fingers," Harry continues. "I could eat you out while fingering you. You'd love that, wouldn't you, baby? You love me lavishing attention on your pretty arse."

"Guest room," Louis gasps, all of a sudden. His fingers are pushing in and out of his arse in a relentless pace. "It's in the guest room."

"What's that?"

"The key," Louis clarifies. "Guest room, first drawer on the dresser." He moans again, loudly, his hips snapping up.

Harry scrambles up from his position, quickly divesting himself of his trousers and his pants, and all but sprints to the guest room. He finds the key quickly enough, buried under a bunch of receipts, and he sprints back to their bedroom.

It takes him three tries to open the door, his hands shaking too hard for him to unlock it properly, but when he does, he all but jumps on the bed, knocking Louis' iPad off the bed and onto the floor.

He kisses Louis hard, biting at his lip, and Louis opens up easily under him. His mouth is warm and slick beneath Harry's own, and Harry explores it, tangling his tongue with Louis'.

He pulls off after a while, moving to pull the neckline of the lace shirt down, so he can suck a lovebite on Louis' neck. Louis makes a noise, and his hands come up to grip at Harry's hair.

"God," Harry murmurs, into Louis' skin. "You taste so fucking good."

"I'm made of caramel," Louis answers, and Harry laughs into Louis' skin.

"Yes, you are," Harry answers solemnly. He presses one more kiss at the mark he left on Louis' neck before he's pulling away, hovering above Louis.

Louis' face is flushed, and his pupils are blown, nothing but a tiny sliver of blue left around them. His fringe is matted to his forehead, and there's sweat dripping from his temples, down the hollow of his throat, and disappearing into Harry's lace shirt.

"You're gorgeous," Harry says reverently. "In my shirt. God, you really do look good in yellow."

"I look good in everything," Louis dismisses. He wiggles under Harry, so that their cocks brush against each other. Harry bites his lip to stifle a moan.

"But you never look better than when you're wearing my clothes," Harry tells him. He grinds down on Louis, aligning their cocks together. "I love you in my clothes. I wear my shirts because I like to imagine you wearing them."

"I love your shirts," Louis confesses. He hisses when Harry grinds down particularly hard. "They make me feel pretty."

"Oh, baby," Harry says. "You're pretty. You're so, so pretty. You're so fucking pretty it hurts, sometimes."

He doesn't give Louis a chance to reply, simply pulls away. He lifts Louis' legs, spreads them out, and slides in Louis' open hole.

Easy and effortless.

Louis gasps at the sensation of Harry's cock, and Harry lets him have a few minutes, before he's pulling out and thrusting into him, making sure to aim where he knows Louis' prostate is. Louis keens, at the back of his throat, his hands disentangling themselves from Harry's hair and scrabbling to find purchase on Harry's back.

"Hey," Louis says breathlessly a few moments later, pinching the neckline of Harry's hoodie in between his fingers. "This is my hoodie. You're wearing my hoodie."

"You're wearing my shirt," Harry answers. He punctuates this with a thrust, that has Louis moaning loudly.

"My hoodie," Louis mumbles. His hand curls into a fist, gripping the fabric. "And my boyfriend. Mine."

"Yours," Harry answers earnestly. He fucks into Louis harder, faster, enough that it has Louis tightening his grip on Harry's hoodie. "All yours."

"Mine," Louis says again. He uses his free hand to place it on Harry's chest, right where his heart would be. "Mine."

And that's all it takes for Harry to groan, and with one last thrust, he buries himself into the hilt and coming into Louis' arse. Louis holds him, kisses him while Harry spills into Louis' marking Louis as his.

He wraps a hand around Louis, stroking him once, twice, thrice, before Louis is seizing up as well, moaning loudly into Harry's mouth as he spills threads of come all over Harry's fist, and Harry's lace shirt. Harry strokes him through it, holds him through the aftershocks, kisses him until Louis relaxes onto the pillows.

"I get it now," he mumbles, as Harry pulls out and curls up beside Louis, trying to avoid the wet spot on the bed. He'll clean it later.

"Get what?" Harry asks. He presses a kiss on Louis' forehead.

"Why you like seeing me in your clothes," Louis says, turning to his side so he can face Harry. "You wearing my clothes is hot as fuck." He reaches over and pinches the fabric of the hoodie in between his two fingers. "Although now you've ruined it."

"You've ruined like, ten of my shirts," Harry complains. "You can live without one Adidas hoodie. Besides, you have three dozen more in your closet."

Louis pouts. "But that's my favourite."

"I'll buy you a new one," Harry dismisses. He presses a kiss on the corner of Louis' lips. "In fact, I'll buy you three new ones, if you want."

Louis makes a noise. "I want them in all the colours of the rainbow."

"Fine," Harry says, his lip twitching. "I still owe you for leaving you Sainsbury's, after all. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," Louis yawns. "I just can't believe you even did that. Leaving me there for what, an art sale?"

"It was three blocks away!" Harry protests. "In any case, I'm still very sorry."

"`S fine," Louis says, snuggling into the pillow. His eyes are half-lidded, and Harry knows he's almost asleep. "But I was serious, a while ago. I'm never going grocery shopping with you again."

Harry deserves that.