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Louis is, quite frankly, having a shit day.
His new neighbour(s?) moved in last night, and for some reason decided that it was crucial to arrange the furniture just how they liked and kept Louis up til 3am in the process. Of course, everyone at his firm is embroiled in a huge case, so Louis has to wake up at 5 to catch the bus and make it across town by 6:30, where he sits and answers phones all day for a bunch of barristers who seem — judging by the amount of times he’s been screamed at over the phone, today alone — fairly incompetent. A migraine had settled just behind his eyes by lunchtime, and the two hour long meeting he had to take notes for hadn’t helped. And, he managed to slice his finger on some heavy-weight paper, and it bled all over the notes he’d taken in the meeting and had to re-write them.
By the time he changes out of his monkey suit and hits the ridiculously crowded ASDA at 7:30pm (why it’s so crowded, he has no fucking clue, but he’s pretty resentful of it), Louis is honestly about ready to murder someone. Or himself. He’s trying so hard to keep it together that he doesn’t notice the guy growling down the aisle.
He does notice when the door he’s holding open to grab some frozen peas shatters, however.
"What the fuck,” he says, and the guy — the really huge, really weird-looking (and Louis really doesn’t like to talk about people like that, his mum raised him better, God rest her soul) man tilts his head back and yells.
Louis glances into the freezer. "Did you want the peas, then?”
The man takes a step closer and Louis’ stomach tightens. "They’ve also got beets,” he offers, "Though I don’t think a frozen beet’ll be any good. Ha! Beetle. Beatle.”
Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t laugh. Louis hadn’t expected him to. He keeps approaching Louis, until he’s barely centimeters away, looking down at him. Louis looks back. He’s truly hideous up close; his nose flat and cheeks mangled and forehead protruding and extra wrinkly. Louis opens his mouth to say something, anything, but someone else beats him to it.
"Oi, ugly!”
The man turns and Louis leans around him, blinking at the sight of a girl in, what, workout clothes? She’s holding a wooden stick with a pointy end and a grin that makes Louis’ dick twitch a bit in his trousers. That’s new.
The man yells unintelligibly at her, and she runs at him. Louis dodges out of the way before her foot makes contact with the man’s leg and brings him to his knees. There’s an intense scuffle then, one that Louis can’t really follow because it’s just moving limbs and grunting and yelling. He should, by all rights, like, run away, but there’s something about the way this girl moves that makes Louis want to stay. Makes him unafraid.
She knocks the man’s feet out from under him and pins him with her hips and drives the stake into his chest with both hands. He disappears under her. Louis concentrates very hard on breathing.
"What the fuck was that?" he splutters. "Where the fuck did that guy go?" He stares around, trying to figure out where the man escaped to. He's never had a hallucination from working too hard before, but, he supposes, there's a first time for everything.
The girl just laughs, tossing her hair out of her face. She doesn't even look winded, which honestly is a little annoying because Louis bets her boobs would look great heaving as she tries to catch her breath.
"Drugs are horrible," she says. Her voice is throaty and gorgeous. "Who knows what kind of crazies lurk in Asda aisles?"
"But you — are you a ninja?"
"Of the teenage mutant turtle variety, yes," she says. She gives him a lingering once-over. "You'll be okay…"
"Louis," Louis says, grinning up at the girl. "And you are?"
She checks her phone and winces. "Running extremely late," she says. "Bye!"
Louis frowns but watches her jog down the aisle away from him. It’s not a bad sight at all; he adjusts himself in his basketball shorts as she goes. Her leggings fit her extremely well, her thighs flexing with muscle. They're the fancy work-out leggings, marbled white and grey. Louis wonders idly if it'd be odd to ask her to crush his head with her thighs. But he doesn't want to come on too strong. Also, she’s long gone.
"She's probably a lesbian, anyway," he tells himself as he walks home. "A lesbian would beat up a drugged-out fiend like that." He pauses, horror dawning on him, as he's gone to ASDA this late at night with a serious case of the munchies more than once. "Am I a drugged-out fiend?"
—
The first time, Louis figures he’s just had the unfortunate luck of having night owls move in next to him. Really fucking noisy night owls, who move furniture at three in the morning while Louis is trying to get his beauty rest before his hellhole of a job even weeks after they've finished moving in. It’s unusual sounds, like thumping and crashing and glass breaking. So, maybe they’re clumsy or something. Louis can’t really be bothered when he’s half asleep.
Except, then, it starts happening during the day, too.
Louis get home from work and the neighbours are over there making odd noises. It sounds almost violent sometimes, like actual fighting, but he only ever hears groans and sounds that sound more like moans that screams or pain or whatever. Sex noises, not death noises, or something.
"Maybe they’re into weird sex stuff,” Niall says one day, licking icing off her fingers casually as 1) Zayn stares at her like he wants to consume her and 2) a rhythmic thud thud thud comes from next door.
"I’m into weird sex stuff,” Zayn says. Both Louis and Niall ignore him.
"I don’t think they are. I mean, they might be. Fuck, it might only be the one guy in there with a different person every time,” Louis says, sighing. He’d met the man a few days ago finally, down at the mailboxes. He’d seemed normal enough. Tall, short curly hair, wide eyes and a mouth Louis wants to bite. Unfairly attractive but seemed a bit distracted, like he was only half registering what Louis was saying to him.
"He seemed weird,” Louis adds, shrugging. Niall shrugs back at him and shoves the rest of the cupcake into her mouth. At least she chews the thing before swallowing and saying,
"Everyone’s weird when they meet you. You make people weird.”
Louis scoffs, affronted. "I do not.”
Niall looks at him. "You asked me if I thought green poo was normal within the first five minutes you met me.”
"And you said it was, so fuck off,” Louis says, and then the thumping stops. All three of them stare at the wall.
"You think they finished?” Zayn says, and Louis sighs.
"I hope so. I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”
—
The thing about Niall’s suggestion, though, about the sex maniac thing is that now Louis can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t stop imaging Harry — the neighbour, as Louis finally figured out from a letter in his mail that was meant for Harry — and the girl who comes round most often. She's a dead ringer for the girl who beat up the drugged-out Asda guy - she's tall, got a few inches on Louis and almost matches Harry for height. Her hair’s long and light brown and she’s got huge brown eyes and really, Louis thinks she’s extraordinary looking. She's not like a supermodel or anything, but she looks like she could fully bench-press him if he asked. So. Just the type of girl he’s always gone for, then.
And, weirdness during attempted conversation aside, Harry’s exactly the type of guy Louis’ always gone for.
So, to hear them grunting and groaning and thumping around at three in the morning, when Louis’ already in a vulnerable state, well. It’s difficult. It’s hard, and there’s definitely more than one thing that’s hard about it, especially when Louis squeezes his eyes shut and lets his mind wander to weird stuff they could be doing. Together.
—
To be honest, Louis considers holding onto Harry's mis-delivered letter until he can hand it back in person, and strike up some kind of conversation that would lead to him making some kind of innuendo-laden comment on Harry's noisy, late-night exploits, but in the end, he just slips the letter through Harry's mailbox and goes on to work.
He regrets the decision more and more throughout the day. "It would be wrong of me to steal one of those massive packages they get sometimes, right?" he asks Zayn that night, stealing Niall's nail polish and busily painting some designs on a frisbee he'd found wedged behind the couch.
"The fuck are you even talking about?" Zayn asks, squinting at Louis from where he's sprawled out, leaning back over the armchair, a book open and face-down on his chest.
"To like, knock on their door and say, 'Hey, I seem to have got this box of massive dildoes and fuzzy handcuffs addressed to you by mistake.'"
Zayn sighs and pushes himself up in his chair a little straighter. "Are you still going on about the neighbours?"
Louis manfully resists retorting 'have you seen the neighbours?' and just shrugs. "Just a thought," he says, reflecting on all the kinky things that they've probably got coming to them in the mail all the time. "It seems appropriate for a relationship built on mail and sex noises."
"It seems illegal," Zayn says, leaning back in his seat again and letting his eyes drift closed. "Just introduce yourself as their new neighbour or something if you're really that bothered."
"They've been living here for months," Louis says, plaintively, but Zayn's point is well taken.
It takes a few days, but eventually Louis bucks up and makes his way down the hall, a casserole dish full of mostly-fine-but-partly-burnt spinach artichoke dip. He’d got the recipe out of Chrissy Teigen’s cookbook (a joke Christmas gift from one of his sisters, but who’s laughing now), only he didn’t really have all the ingredients, so he can’t really say it’s Chrissy Teigen’s spinach artichoke dip. He’s calling it the Louis Special and hopes it doesn’t give anyone food poisoning.
He stands in front of flat 125 and takes a deep breath. He knocks, and waits.
Nothing happens. There’s no shout from inside, no weird noises or anything. Louis frowns, certain he’d seen Harry wander up the stairs. He can’t have left in the short amount of time it took Louis to get here.
"Hello?” he calls, and knocks again.
"Is that for me?”
Louis jumps about five feet in the air before turning around to see Harry grinning at him, mail tucked under his armpit. That makes sense, then.
"You should wear a bell around your neck, or something,” Louis says, "Nearly scared me half to death.”
Harry chuckles in response, his face still warm and amused and god, stupidly beautiful. Really. It’s actually kind of annoying, Louis thinks.
"I brought you this,” he says in a rush, thrusting out the casserole dish. "It’s dip, or it’s supposed to be anyway. I realised I never like, welcomed you or whatever, so. Yeah.”
Harry tilts his head and takes a step closer, gingerly taking the dish from Louis’ hands. "It’s got a good heft,” he says, eyes fucking twinkling, because he’s a cartoon character or something. "I like that.”
Louis’ face turns bright red. "Sorry if it’s terrible,” he says, averting his eyes. "Bye.”
He makes it to his door before Harry calls out his name. Louis turns, face still burning.
"Come to dinner tomorrow night,” Harry says. He’s not asking. Louis kind of likes that. "I’d love to have you.”
Louis nearly chokes, nodding. Harry smiles.
"Eight o’clock?”
Louis nods again, and scrambles back into his flat without saying goodbye.
—
"Have a nice night, honey," Zayn says, the tone of his voice even dryer than Louis's dick has been for the past, like, eleven months. "Don't snoop through the neighbour's possessions when you're at dinner. That's rude."
Louis pauses from where he's reaching for the bobby pins Niall'd left wedged next to the bathroom sink. "You're just as curious as I am," he accuses, and slips one into his pocket.
"I can assure you, I'm actually not," Zayn says, but Louis isn't having any of it.
He checks his hair in the bathroom mirror, then curses himself inwardly for bothering to check his hair in the bathroom mirror, then runs a hand through it to give it a little lift, anyway. "You could probably come too, you know," he points out.
"I have really important plans," Zayn says, vaguely.
"I wouldn't consider Lego Harry Potter III that important in the face of neighbourly snooping," Louis says. "But I love and respect your weird-arse opinions."
Zayn flips him the two-fingered salute. "Just because me and Niall started this one without you there…"
"I didn't want any part of your video game foreplay anyway," Louis says. He scrubs a hand through his hair one more time, then wipes his hands off on his jeggings. "Does my bum look good in these?"
"Sure," Zayn says.
When Louis turns around, Zayn isn't even looking at him. "Bro."
"Lou, your bum always looks great in those things," Zayn says, rolling his eyes. "Stop fishing for compliments and get out of my flat."
"Our flat," Louis mutters. He brushes an obnoxious and slobbery kiss across Zayn's whole entire forehead on his way out, mentally high-fiving himself as Zayn's shouts of disgust follow him out into the hall.
"You didn't bring your flatmate?" Harry asks, as he opens the door.
He's wearing this weird half-bathrobe thing that drapes over his broad chest and leaves, like, nothing to the imagination. It looks kinda like all those pictures of nebulae and galaxies that Louis looks up when he's stoned and wants to feel even more fucked up, but silky, clinging to his skin. Part of it is tucked into the waistband of his frayed skinny jeans, the denim bulging over the fabric of it. Among other things.
Louis gulps. "Zayn is antisocial and weird," he says — reassuringly, he thinks. "Nice bathrobe."
Harry frowns. "It's not a — well. Thanks?"
"You're welcome," says Louis. He wipes his the palms of his hands on his jeans again - they're warm; he's nervous, and — oh. They're also empty. "I bought beer," he says, frowning. "For dinner. But I left it in my fridge. I can go get it?"
"That's fine," Harry says. He steps back a little, beckoning Louis inside. "I have wine."
Louis tries not to wrinkle his nose at that. "Cheers, great," he says, looking around as the door closes behind him, eyes wide. The flat looks stunningly normal. "Your flatmate around?"
"Haven't got one," Harry says, cheerfully.
"Oh, because sometimes it sounds like you've got people hanging around inside here," Louis says. He raps his knuckles on the doorframe. "Thin walls."
Harry, to his credit, doesn't blush. "I have a lot of friends," he explains, glib as anything.
"Are any of them coming tonight?" Louis asks. "Or is it just the two of us?"
"Liam - she's the one who's always around - will be over later," Harry says, shrugging, as he leads the way into the kitchen. "But like, much later. Not for dinner. So it'll be the two of us for now. Red or white?"
"Then why —" Louis starts, before it dawns on him. "Ah. I'll use headphones tonight."
Harry gawks at Louis for a pronounced moment. "Probably not a bad idea," he finally says, a slow, wicked smile spreading over his face and lighting up his features.
Harry's smile emboldens Louis, and he shakes off the awkwardness of a new encounter and, hoisting himself up to sit on Harry's kitchen worktop, launches full-tilt into information-gathering mode. "Definitely red," he says, to get the important things out of the way first. It's very marginally less disgusting than white wine. Then, he adds, "You know, I think I've seen Liam around. Or someone like her. Does she have a twin?"
"Not that I'm aware of, no," Harry says, quizzically. He pours a healthy glass of wine for each of them and passes one over to Louis, taking a large swallow as he does so.
"Only I swear someone who looks just like Liam once beat up a guy strung out on… something at the Asda down the road, back when you first moved in," Louis says. He takes a tiny sip of the wine himself, and tries not to make a face. It tastes better the more you drink of it, he reminds himself. "It was almost like the guy disappeared after that."
Harry, to Louis's delight and intrigue, spits a little of the wine out, his mouth opens, shocked, that quickly. "Is that — is that so," he says, weakly. "Huh."
"I did have a migraine," Louis allows. He takes another tiny sip. It's not as bad if he swallows quickly. "Though if I'm honest, that's the first time I"ve had an exhaustion-and-headache hallucination."
"Ah," Harry says. He shakes himself, and blinks, then smiles at Louis. "That must be it. Um, I made pasta with red sauce. I figured that'd be alright?"
"Sounds great, mate," Louis says. "I'll eat literally anything." He pauses. "Maybe not raw vegan sushi. My sister had that once and it sounded fucking nasty."
"Good to know," Harry says, tone rich with humour. "Garlic bread?"
"Please," Louis says. He has another sip of wine, larger this time, as Harry busies himself getting out a crusty loaf and slicing it up, spreading some kind of refrigerated paste on the slices as his oven preheats. "Uh, where's your loo?"
"Down the hall and to the right," Harry says, glancing up from where he's lowering the tray into the oven. "Second door down."
"Cheers," Louis says, hopping down from the counter. "Be right back."
He opens the first door on the right first, since it's already ajar. It's clearly Harry's bedroom in there - there's a large bed with a plush duvet, a cat curled up at the foot of it. Louis doesn't go inside - he doesn't want Harry to think he's pooping - but he can see the shelves and shelves of giant old books stacked up against the wall opposite Harry's bed.
Nerd, he thinks, drawing the door back closed.
Louis tries the handle on the left-hand door next. It's the one he's most curious about, anyway — that room is the one that shares a wall with his own bedroom.
Bizarrely, though, for a man who claims to live alone and have no one else in the apartment at the time being, it's locked. He slips his hand into his pocket and fingers Niall's bobby pin contemplatively, but there's a particularly loud clatter of pans that comes from the kitchen, and Louis jumps and moves on. Next time, he promises himself.
The bathroom is as startlingly ordinary as Harry's living room and kitchen, save for a small, ornate box carved all over in markings that Louis can't understand that's sitting on the same shelf as a stack of towels in the en-suite linen closet. The box, like Harry's spare room, is locked shut, and when Louis picks it up, he feels a weird prickle down his spine, the hairs on his arm rising up.
He puts it down in a hurry.
He doesn't actually have to pee, but he flushes the toilet anyway to sell the cover story, and washes his hands three full times before his skin starts to feel normal again.
"Noticed the litter box in your bathroom," he says, loudly, as he walks back to the kitchen. "You got an illicit cat?"
"Please don't tell the management," Harry says. "I know it's not allowed, but I just can't give her up."
"I'm incredibly good at keeping secrets," Louis promises. He wiggles his eyebrows at Harry, who laughs but doesn't offer up an explanation for his locked door clear out of the blue.
Rude.
—-
In all fairness, Louis doesn’t mean to get drunk, but Harry’s been plying him with wine all night and red’s always got to him quicker than he’d like. So, by the time Liam walks in the door, Louis really can’t help what comes out of his mouth.
"Oi, you are that girl that beat up that crazy in Asda. I’d recognise that arse anywhere.”
It’s a particularly fine arse, truth be told. Louis would quite like to bite it.
"You and the rest of the world,” Harry says, laughing, and huh, apparently Louis said that last bit out loud. Fucking wine.
"I’m Liam,” Liam says, smiling at him nicely enough, so perhaps she doesn’t really care that Louis would like to jump her bones. "You’re the neighbour? Harry’s been talking about you non-stop. Glad I got a chance to put a face to the name.”
"We’ve met,” Louis blurts, shaking her silky smooth hand and immediately wishing he hadn’t because now he wants it on his dick. Christ, he’s got to go home. "I mean, you and me. You attacked that guy in the Asda. He wanted peas, or something.”
Liam makes a strange sort of face with her mouth. "Don’t think that was me, but —”
"No, it was you,” Louis says, sitting up straighter. "You had on those leggings and you had like, a piece of wood or something? Really. I'm about ninety-eight percent positive I didn’t dream it.”
Liam glances back at Harry who does a weird sort of shrug and Louis gets the impression that they’re like, talking to each other somehow, but also he can’t really be sure.
"Maybe it was me, then,” she says finally. "But I don’t make it a habit to carry around wood.”
"You wouldn’t, wood, you,” Harry says, and then laughs uproariously at his own joke. Louis blinks at him, and turns back to Liam.
Liam has taken her hair out of its ponytail and is currently shaking it out around her shoulders and christ, fuck, Louis wants to touch it. Maybe tug on it a little bit, or something.
"I’ve got to go,” he says instead, because he’s not drunk enough to think having a threesome with his new neighbour is a good idea at all. At least, not a good idea when he’s not sober enough to remember every detail. "I’m sure you’ve got things to do. Furniture to move, whatever.”
Liam gives him a strange look as he stands, and Harry leads him to the door. "You don’t have to go,” he says, big hand on the knob and licking his own wine stained lips. Somehow, miraculously, Louis resists the urge to push him against the door and kiss him.
"I really, really do,” he says instead, and flees as fast as he can.
Later, if he shoves a hand down his pajama bottoms and jerks himself off while listening to the grunting next door, well. No one’s there to see him, at least.
—-
"I mean, the most likely scenario is that they just have a giant fuck-off sex dungeon like that guy in 50 Shades of Grey probably does," Louis says, flopping back on the couch. He winces as his back hits something hard, then grins triumphantly when he reaches behind himself and pulls out a bouncy ball. Tossing it against the wall and very nearly failing to catch it when it bounces back at him, he adds, "Why else would someone lock their own second bedroom door?"
"Is he still going on about Harry Styles' flat?" Niall asks, coming into the living room with a huge bowl of cheese dip and an open bag of tortilla chips. She sets them down on the coffee table and stuffs a handful in her mouth.
"For the fourth day in a row now," Zayn says, mournfully, from where he's sitting in the armchair adjacent to the couch, massaging his temples. He brightens momentarily when Niall sits down on the arm of the chair and slings her arm over his shoulders, and reaches - obviously, in Louis's estimation - across her calves to get at the food.
"This is why I don't live with you guys," Niall says, wisely, mid-chew.
"I resent that," Louis says. He tosses the ball against the wall again, and catches it better this time. "You love me."
"It's the stockholm syndrome," Niall assures him.
Louis flips her off lazily, and then shouts, "Hey!" as Zayn reaches over and punches his leg.
"Be nice to Niall," Zayn says. "She's put up with you describing the restraints and whips and ball gags you suspect Harry has squirreled away for half a week now."
"'S a lot of time for someone who doesn't live with us," Louis says, consideringly. "Big of you, Nialler."
"You're such a dick," Niall says, but she's laughing, and Zayn is smiling because she's also leaning closer to him in the process. "Anyway, it might not be a sex room."
"What else could it be?" Louis asks. "Hydroponics? Liam beats up drug users!"
"Better hide the bong then," Zayn says, rolling his eyes as Louis tosses the ball at the wall again. "Keep her from unleashing unholy hell on you."
Louis's mind flashes over to Liam unleashing unholy hell on him — on his arse, in particular; Liam could unleash unholy hell on him any time she liked as long as she wore those leggings of hers while she did it — and misses the ball when it comes back at him. He shouts when it hits him in the nose. "I deserved that, probably," he mumbles.
"Yeah, you probably did," Niall agrees.
"I'm still going to try to get back in that flat and figure it out," Louis says. "Hey, do you think I could tell Harry there's ants coming in through the outlets in the wall and I need to look in that room of his in case he's spilled honey?"
"Oh, so now they use honey in their kinky sex dungeon?"
Louis snaps his fingers at Zayn. "So you do agree there's a kinky sex dungeon in there!" He pauses. "Well. A second-floor flat version of a kinky sex dungeon."
"Maybe it's like a headquarters," Zayn says. "Where Harry brings Liam and they decide which Asda shoppers - or other bad guys - they're going to take down next."
"Yeah, right," Louis says. "Be realistic."
"I don't know," says Niall. "Sounds about as reasonable as a Christian Grey sex dungeon to me."
"Ugh," Louis says, hauling himself up. "I'm going to go bake a batch of…. something."
"But we don't have pot butter," Zayn points out. "And also you can't even cook."
"Obviously it's a front," Louis says. "To go ask Harry for a cup of sugar and get an unannounced look inside."
"Tell him your toilet's flooded and management is running late instead," Niall suggests.
Genius. Absolute genius. Louis would kiss her, if he wasn't vaguely concerned that Zayn would be quietly upset about it for weeks. "What do we have that I can shove down our toilet?"
"You don't actually have to put things in it," Zayn says, sounding very alarmed indeed. "Just… lie about it, or whatever."
"Terrible influences, the both of you," Louis says, happily, and heads toward the door.
—-
"My toilet’s broken and I’ve really got to wee,” is the first thing Louis says when the door to Harry’s flat opens.
Unfortunately, it’s not Harry who opens it. It’s Liam, with her hair in a messy ponytail and those stupid leggings and a flush down her cheeks and neck and onto her chest. Louis watches a drop of sweat disappear slowly between her breasts. He looks back up to her face, feeling only slightly chastised by the raised eyebrow she’s giving him.
Liam crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorway. "You can’t just go in the sink? We’re busy.”
They’re fucking, they’re fucking you’ve interrupted their fucking you absolute legend, Louis mind screams at him. He clears his throat. "I promise not to get in the way of your weird feng shui shit,” he says. "Promise. Please? In and out in a jiff.”
Liam stares at him a moment and then heaves a huge sigh. She gestures him through the door. "Make it quick, then.”
Louis gives her a wink and rushes through, acting like he’s desperately got to use the loo, but keeping an eye out as he goes; the mysterious locked door looks as shut-tight as ever — and listen, he did acting in sixth form and was quite good, so probably Liam doesn’t suspect a thing — and clicks the door shut behind him. He doesn’t touch the creepy box again, but he does rifle through the cabinets, disappointed when he only finds some forgot little things of eye makeup, a few tubes of lube and a half empty box of condoms. No weird medications or anything. He frowns and flushes the toilet, dips his hands under the water and exits the bathroom, flicking the water off them as he goes. It’s fruitless, though, because no one’s in the hall, and no one’s in the living room or kitchen when he walks out there.
Louis frowns. Where the fuck could they have gone? He checks Harry’s room, putting his ear to the door and a hand to his crotch to keep his dick from doing anything weird while he listens for them. It’s silent, though, and then there's the sound of breaking glass, followed by a a giant, muffled bellow from behind him - it sounds sort of as if Liam has shouted "Come in and fucking fight me, then, why don't you?" but that can't be right, can it? - so he turns around to spot the source of the noise… and comes face to face with the other door. The locked door.
Only, it’s not locked anymore. It’s open, just the tiniest crack, and Louis’s weak, alright, and this is what he came over for anyway, to snoop. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open.
A knife comes flying out, landing squarely in the wood behind Louis’s head. "What the fuck,” he says. He has to blink a full four times before he can even start to take in the scene in front of him.
"Louis!” Harry’s shouting at him as he struggles with a guy — a guy who looks like the guy from Asda, all weird and sort of misshapen around the face. Harry's fully clothed, the arm of his unbuttoned fancy t-shirt fluttering over a plain white top ripped at the seam and falling attractively over his bicep. He's sweating, red in the face as he struggles against the guy. It doesn't look like sexy sweating or kinky roleplay, though. Not that Louis would know; the kinkiest roleplay he's engaged in to date was pretending to be Niall when Zayn was fucking him, right after Louis'd found out about Zayn's crush, for thirty seconds before Zayn told him to cut it the fuck out. "What the fuck!”
Liam appears and pushes Louis bodily to the side so that she can yank the knife out of Harry’s bedroom door. "You said you’d be quick!”
She's stronger than she looks; Louis half-falls, half-flies into the doorjamb of the maybe-not-sex-dungeon, wincing as his back bumps against the lock. He struggles upright.
"I — ” But it doesn’t matter, because Liam’s not listening. She’s turned around and run back into the room - knocking Louis right back into the doorjamb - to jump on the guy’s back, driving the knife into the meat of where his shoulder meets his neck so that she can distract him enough to pull him off Harry.
"Cheers," Harry says, breathlessly, helping Liam to wrestle the guy - knife still sticking out of his flesh - to the ground, where the fragments of the broken window lie scattered on across the floor, at which point Harry kneels on the guy's arms to keep him from squirming, and Liam stabs him in the heart with another one of her stakes.
"Okay,” Louis says, as the guy fully disappears and Harry drops to the floor with a thud, and then he faints.
—
Harry’s couch is incredibly comfortable. That’s the first thought that enters Louis’ mind as he comes to, and the second is that he’s incredibly wet.
"Did you throw water on me?” Louis asks, blinking his eyes open to see Harry and Liam both looking down at him with mildly concerned twists to their mouths. Their hands keep brushing against each other, fingers tangling in a way that seems almost like they don't even notice it.
"We weren’t sure you would wake up,” Liam says, shrugging. For all that she's standing still, it's almost like Louis can see the energy coursing under her skin, following the lines of her muscles, vibrating through her entire body. "Bit of Holy Water never hurt anyone.”
"What are you, a priest?” Louis groans as he sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face. "So.”
Harry frowns down at him. His eyes are also bright from the exertion of their fight with that — that thing. "Louis.” His voice is gentle, makes something in Louis’ chest twist unexpectedly, which is stupid. "What were you doing here?”
"Taking a piss.” Louis bites his lip when Harry’s stare hardens. "Snooping,” he says, because he’s weak, he’s so, so weak. "So you don’t have a sex dungeon?”
"Of course we haven’t got a sex dungeon,” Harry responds, sounding a little more alarmed and offended than Louis likes. "We don’t even have a dungeon.”
"But the door’s always locked!” Louis gestures wildly around. "And you — I hear things! All night!”
"You mostly hear fighting,” Liam says, rolling her eyes. "You hear us — or, me, really — fighting. And training for more fighting. And then more fighting on top of that. And some sex. But mostly fighting.”
Louis raises an eyebrow. "Fighting what? You can’t expect me to believe those are drug addicts.”
Liam looks back at Harry, her mouth in an uneasy line. Harry shrugs at her and reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder. She takes a deep breath and turns back to Louis. "No, they’re not drug addicts.” She takes a big breath. "They’re vampires. I’m a Slayer.”
Louis stares. He stares at them both, waiting for either one to smile or crack and say haha just kidding, of course we’re just having raucous sex all night, or even we're a dedicated heavy metal cover act but that doesn’t happen. All that happens is they stare back and everyone is quiet for a long, long moment.
"Oh,” Louis says finally, feeling faint again. "Cool?”
—
The more things change, the more they stay the same. For all that Louis has experienced the biggest paradigm shift of his entire life, his life itself doesn't change that much — he still annoys Zayn daily with his ruminations about their noisy neighbours (though Louis is definitely omitting a huge piece of important information about them), and he still sometimes beats off to the sounds they make, grunting in the not-sex-dungeon that backs up to his bedroom wall. At least, the sounds that seem less likely to result from fighting.
The biggest difference, maybe, is that he's seeing vampires everywhere, now that he knows that they exist.
"Dude," Zayn says one night as they're walking back from a bar. Louis has just jumped at a shadow that turned out to be one of London's ubiquitous foxes, and nothing more. "Why the fuck are you so jumpy lately?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Louis says, loudly.
"You haven't even made noises about snooping on our neighbours anymore," Zayn says, frowning. "Wait, did you figure out their weird sex thing? ...Is it too weird even for you?"
"Nothing could be weirder than that picture you think you have hidden in your room," Louis says. He still can't unsee Niall, in sketch form, standing buck-naked over a cartoony depiction of Zayn, golf club in hand and wicked smile on her lips. There are pros and cons to that kind of mental image. Mostly pros, as far as Zayn is concerned - it's great ammunition and Louis isn't disinterested in it.
He also didn't need to know about the tail Zayn had sketched coming out from behind Niall, though. That one is definitely a con.
"Nice try, but I know your diversionary tactics, Tommo," says Zayn.
Louis, mature adult that he is, sticks his tongue out at Zayn with aplomb. And Zayn must really be focused on Louis's demeanor, because he doesn't even crack a joke about how Louis should put his tongue somewhere more useful.
The thing is, though — Harry and Liam had offered to talk Louis through their big revelation, and Louis had agreed it's a good idea. He just… hasn't got around to going over for that conversation yet.
Soon, maybe. Probably, definitely soon.
—
"Soon” ends up being the next day, but not because Louis marches over like he should. It’s because Harry and Liam pound on his door until Niall answers it grumpily and directs them to his room.
"Well, this is pleasant,” Harry says as he plops down on Louis’s bed. Louis bounces slightly as he scrambles to sit up.
"It’s a tip,” Liam says with a snort, holding up a pair of almost certainly dirty boxers between a pinched forefinger and thumb. She wrinkles her nose and tosses them in the general direction of Louis's largest pile of indiscriminately clean-or-maybe-dirty clothes, and then sits down in the chair at Louis’s desk. "I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, honestly.”
Louis frowns. She's right, but she hardly even knows him. "I’m pretty sure I’m insulted.”
"You should be,” Liam says at the same time Harry says, "Listen, we’re here for a reason.”
Louis rolls his eyes. No doubt they’re here to talk about the vampires again, or the demons or the what the fuck evers it is that Liam fights. Blah blah blah, they’re dangerous, blah blah blah don’t follow us. It’s basically every discussion he ever had with his mum from age 8 to 18.
"The creatures that show up,” Harry starts, and Louis rolls his eyes again, holding his hands up to stop him. The movement flips the covers down, revealing his bare chest, and he catches the way Harry’s gaze flickers, sense how Liam stiffens in her seat a bit. He’ll just file that away for later, then.
"Please,” Louis says. "I know what you’re going to say. It’s dangerous, right? I could get hurt?”
"You don’t have proper training,” Liam says, clearing her throat. "You almost died in Asda.”
Harry nods. "And again in my flat.”
"Only because I was caught off guard,” Louis protests, but honestly, they have a point. Those monsters do seem more dangerous than say, wandering around the rail yard at night or breaking into the old, abandoned factory like he used to do with his friends. He’s never been in a physical fight in his life. Now’s probably not the time to start. "But you’re lucky. I won’t go off alone looking for monsters or whatever. Promise.”
Two sighs of relief later, Louis ushers them both out of his room and out of his flat. He means to keep his promise. He doesn’t much fancy wandering around alone looking for a fight, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge or, say, being warned off doing anything. It's his fatal character flaw and he's well aware of it, but if there's anything his half-module of English literature back in his mostly-successful attempt at uni taught him, it's that you can't just go about changing a fatal character flaw to save your own arse. Anyway, life is boring if you back down every time someone tells you something is a bad idea. Plus Liam clearly knows what she's doing when she's fighting these things, so if he just happens to follow her and Harry around once or twice a week, well, who knows what he’d find.
"Niall, have you got a ski mask? Black, preferably.”
—
"Are you sure about this?”
Zayn sounds almost concerned about him, which is sweet. But Louis can take care of himself, and if he can’t, then Liam will save him. Probably. Louis pulls the black beanie over his hair — Niall didn’t own a ski mask, as it turns out, and nearly bit his head off when he asked — and nods.
"Because there’s a difference between, like, thinking of lame reasons to snoop in someone’s flat and like, following them dressed like a fucking creep.”
Louis’s mouth drops open. "Rude. I make a beautiful creep, you know that,” he says, ignoring the way Zayn rolls his eyes. He may have neglected to mention the whole fighting monsters thing to Zayn, but only because there’s no chance Zayn would even believe him. Probably. Honestly, Louis’ not really sure he believes it himself and he’s seen it. Twice.
Third time’s a charm then, maybe?
"Besides,” he continues, "it’s just reconnaissance. I want to see where they go on dates.”
"So you can woo them?”
Well, he’s not wrong. "No,” Louis says anyway with a sniff. "I’m just curious.”
"A normal person might just ask, you know,” Niall says from the kitchen, and Louis frowns.
"You both suck and I’m leaving. Don’t have sex in my bed while I’m gone.”
Niall sticks her head into the living room specifically to roll her eyes at him while Zayn flushes bright pink and sputters out something about how stupid that is.
Louis ignores them both and makes his way to the door.
"Hey," Niall pipes up, when Louis has got his hand on the doorknob. "Louis."
She sounds dead serious, actually, enough that Louis pauses and turns around. "Yeah?"
"I want it on record that I think this is a stupid fucking idea," Niall says. "You haven't got any clue what they might be getting up to, and it could end up… not quite the way you expect it to."
"Niall, don't kink-shame," Louis says, tsking his tongue against his teeth. "It's rude. I don't tell you that your kink of acting like you pay rent here and live with us 100% of the time is unappreciated."
"That's because you'd starve to death if I didn't come over every day," Niall says, crossing her arms. "Lou, just — be careful."
Louis opens his mouth to argue, but Zayn looks at Niall, and then looks over to Louis, face no longer hysterically red at the thought of fucking Niall. "Louis," he says.
"Fine," says Louis. "Gang up on me. I'll look both ways before I cross the street, alright Mum and Dad?"
"You're going to get yourself hurt one of these days if you're not careful," Zayn grouches, but after another long, tense glance at Niall, he flaps his hand at Louis, and Louis makes his escape.
He ends up hiding in an alleyway, pressed against grimy brick and waiting for Liam and Harry to walk by so he can follow them. He doesn’t even know if they’ve got a monster to kill tonight, but he figures he can wait to find out.
The wait, as it turns out, is several hours. It’s half-midnight when they finally scamper by. Louis's bum has gone cold and numb, and he's smoked his way through an entire pack of cigarettes. He's honestly so dazed and out of it that he hardly recognises them — except he'd recognise Liam's thighs anywhere, and the way Harry leans a little to the side when he walks — so he quietly and covertly begins to follow them. He’s doing fairly well at it too — ducking behind lamp posts and post boxes or into alleys when they glance around. He hardly notices when they slip from the familiarity of their neighbourhood into the next one over, one that Louis’s not spent a lot of time in because it’s the posh part of town and he sticks out like a sore thumb whenever he wanders over. Harry and Liam don’t, though. They look like they belong there, what with Harry’s long peacoat and elegant long legs and Liam’s face all done up and her hair curled.
Oh shit he thinks, stopping suddenly. What if they are on a date?
He grunts as someone knocks into him from behind, the "Oi, watch it,” halfway out of his mouth until he’s quite literally lifted off the ground.
"What the fuck,” he says, and looks up. The creature that’s got him isn’t a vampire, but that’s all he can really decipher before the world goes black.
—
Louis has got to stop fainting when he gets overwhelmed. It’s starting to get embarrassing, and what’s even more embarrassing is waking up with people standing over him.
Or, in this case, monsters. There’s a monster standing over him. "Oh come on,” he says, groaning. His head pounds. Maybe he didn’t faint after all, then. "They’re going to be pissed at me.”
"Why were you following them?”
Louis blinks and looks at the … thing. "I didn’t know you could talk.” It gives him a succinctly unimpressed look, which is actually kind of impressive. "Anyway, I wasn’t following anyone. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
The creature lifts an eyebrow — or the closest thing to an eyebrow it has; mostly it just seems to have fold upon fold of disgusting greeny-gray cottage cheese textured- and odored- flesh falling all over his face — and takes a step closer. It’s then that Louis notices he’s in a chair, and tied to it tightly enough that he can’t struggle.
"I’m not one of them, okay,” he says, voice taking on a pleading edge. "I’m really not. They’re just my weird neighbours and they do really weird sex things and I wanted to find out — ”
The creature roars at him and lifts his hand (claw?), backhanding Louis with what Louis hopes is all of his strength but is probably actually just an iota of it. His head snaps to the side with the force of it, his cheek stinging, the taste of blood in his mouth and dots in his vision. "Fuck,” he spits, and it spatters, worryingly red, on the floor. He blinks a couple of times, trying to regain his bearings.
"Why were you following them?”
"I told you," Louis says. "I don't think with me big head. Just the little one. You know, my dick."
"Humans don't have two heads," the creature says. It's not screaming, per se, but Louis feels like it is, feels his insides shrinking back at the way its voice grates and rumbles in its chest and throat. "Don't lie. Why were you following them?"
Louis can't quite suss it out - the light is dim, and his vision is still swimming - but he could swear the thing has four fucking rows of teeth. He gulps, testing the confines of his binds, but he can't even wiggle his fingers. "You know, you're going to wreck the bloodflow to my hands and then I'll never be able to finger Liam," he says. "Or Harry. Have you seen how gorgeous they both are? Do you think they're actually an item, or do I just want them to be? You know, I know there's an alternate explanation for their noises besides sex dungeon now, but can't it be both fighting chamber and sex dungeon?"
"I grow tired of your pontificating," the creature says, rolling its maybe-shoulders and sighing in relief as hooked barbs come rippling out of its arms, and then it pauses. "You know where they live?"
Before Louis can answer, there’s a crash, followed by a shout, followed by a series of more shouts and crashes. It almost sounds like Liam is yelling for the thing to come at her, bro, but surely Louis is mishearing that?
But then the creature gets yanked out of Louis's field of vision, at which point there are even more shouts.
And then Harry is crashing down to his knees in the middle of the chamber.
"Harry?" Louis asks, incredulously. He tries to raise an eyebrow, but his face is still smarting way too much to respond to his attempts. That's… probably not good.
"Hey, Louis," Harry says, squinting up at him. "Fancy meeting you here."
"I thought I was the only one who used this service," says Louis. If he really focuses, he can just make out if Louis squints — he can just make out the strong, long arch of Liam's leg, rising up from her hip to where her foot is firmly connected with the demon's face in an almighty kick. "They're not really very aesthetic about their bondage here, are they?"
"Oh god," Harry says. "Please don't tell me you're concussed again."
"I'll have you know," Louis starts, but Harry is stumbling to his knees, grasping for a wicked sharp knife, curved at the tip and glistening with something opaque.
"Here, Liam," he says, throwing it mostly-carefully in her direction.
Louis tracks the throw with his eyes as much as he can, until his head starts to ache with it. The knife embeds itself in a column in the room, and Liam just yanks it out like it's nothing - like it's a warm butter knife in a tub of off-brand butter-flavoured margarine product, and not a giant half-sword of a knife in the middle of a column of indeterminate (but very likely not-butter) material. She swings it in an arc, taking the monster's hand - paw? Claw? - off as she does. The barbed spines sticking out of its skin clatter as they hit the ground.
Harry, meanwhile, is fully upright and on his feet, shoving a hand into the satchel that he's still got flung around his neck. He comes up with a book that looks to be at least a hundred years old, flicking through pages with a deft thumb. "Hey! Fyarl!"
"Yes, petty human?" the creature grunts, curling around the stump of its former appendage and lashing out at Liam with its other claw-thing.
Harry starts reading - or at least, Louis thinks he does; the language sounds entirely unlike any he's heard before. The creature cowers at the sound, arm-stump and other arm going up around what Louis assumes are its ears.
Liam takes advantage of the moment to dart in and stick the knife right dead-center in the creature's chest. She twists it around as Louis watches, pulling it down and to the side and back up again.
"Please note that I fucking hate this part," she shouts at Harry, who nods, holding one finger up in the air as if to say so noted.
"What part?" Louis starts to say, but then she's tilting the knife at an angle and yanking it down.
When she pulls it away, a great gob of flesh falls from the creature's body, and then she's reaching into the cavity and pulling out its fucking heart, which she follows up by cutting off its fucking head in one strong thwack of her blade. Still clutching the heart, she lets the head fall to the side as the creature slumps to the floor.
Harry's weird language comes to a crescendo as Liam holds the heart aloft, and, as Louis watches, Harry points at it and there's this flash of light, enough that Louis has to blink a few times to clear his vision. By the time the afterburn of the light has faded, the heart is growing metallic. Even from halfway across the room, it looks hard, like it's now more stone than flesh.
"God," Louis says, slumping down as far as his restraints allow. "I don't know whether to find that completely revoltingly horrifying or incredibly hot."
When Liam gives him an extremely weird look, tossing the heart at Harry, who has to drop his book in order to catch it, Louis hastens to clarify.
"I mean, not the blood and the yanking a still-beating heart out of a… whatever it is that thing was," Louis says, even though he actually is a little turned on at how efficient Liam was at getting rid of the thing. "More of the like, badass quotient."
"Badass quotient," Liam says, flatly, raising her eyebrows at him. She squints at the knife in her hands, looks around the room, and then wipes all the blood and ichor off it onto the creature's furry leg. Or pants. It's unclear what, exactly, is on his limbs.
"I like the term," Harry says. He's stowed the book and the rock-hard heart in his bag and produced a handkerchief in the process. He walks to Liam and leans down, pulling her up and into a fierce embrace. Louis glances away when they start to snog like their lives depend on it — which, you know, make sense after that beast of a fight. When Harry pulls away, looking very satisfied with himself indeed, he hands the handkerchief to Liam, who mock-scowls and uses it to further clean the knife. "And he's right, Li. You're very sexy when you defeat the forces of evil."
"Aww, thanks, Harry," Liam says, only a little sarcastically, tone offset by the swift follow-up kiss she brushes against Harry's lips. Knife effectively cleaned, she wraps the handkerchief around it and, after retrieving her - admittedly very large - purse from the side of the room, drops it inside. "You know your ancient Akkadian always impresses me."
"I do," Harry says, looking pleased as a peach.
"I love how into each other you are," Louis says. His ears aren't ringing anymore. That's probably a good sign. "But I'm still a little tied up at the moment, myself."
"Should leave you there for following us around," Liam says, but she pulls out a pocket knife and goes over to hack at the binds. Louis can feel the heat of her hands even though they never actually brush against his while she frees him of his restraints.
"I wasn't following you," Louis says, indignantly. At the twin look of disbelief that both Harry and Liam shoot his way, he says, "Okay, I was, but I wanted to see if all you guys do is kill monsters or if you like, do normal people stuff, too."
"Normalcy is a social construct, you know," Harry says, conversationally, as the ropes fall from Louis's wrists. "Also it's overrated."
"Not this again," Liam says, rolling her eyes, but the tone of her voice is impossibly fond. She leaves Louis to tug free of the now-cut ropes and goes to pick up the creature's head by the tuft of hair at the top of it. She tosses it to the side, further away from its body. "Haz, this is the farthest south I've ever seen a Fyarl demon."
"I know," Harry says, frowning. "It's probably not meaningful or important, though?"
"You know what is important is that you could have let me go earlier," Louis complains, rubbing at his wrists. They're bright red, ridged from the bite of the rope, and they ache worse than they've done since the first time Louis gave someone else a handjob, probably. "Or thrown me your knife so I could've got myself free."
"No, you'd have got in the way," Liam says, completely matter-of-fact.
Louis wants to argue that she's got the wrong idea of him, that he can be pretty scrappy in a fight and he's not a total waste of space but - honestly, she's got him pegged to a T. He doesn't know how to fight these things. He could have got killed tonight, on his stupid hackneyed attempt to crash Harry and Liam's romantic-date-or-hunting-date. He could have —
"Are you alright?" Harry asks, frowning and rushing over to Louis. He kicks the creature's head to the side as he goes to support Louis, who is swaying where he stands. "You don't look so — oh." He breaks off as Louis doubles over, spilling the contents of the food he'd snuck from under Niall's nose in the kitchen earlier that night all over his nice suede shoes. "Oh my God. Okay. Um." He pats Louis's back awkwardly as Louis continues to upchuck. "There, there."
"Honestly, you're both useless," Liam says rolling her eyes. She comes over and wedges herself under one of Louis's arms as he finally gets himself under control, wiping the back of his mouth off with his other hand. "C'mon, let's get you some water, you great idiot."
—
"You interrupted our date, you know,” Liam says, rather cross as she presses a frozen bag of peas to his face.
"Thought you had gone out hunting, didn’t I?” Louis says, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at her. The adrenaline that has been coursing through his system since the demon first apprehended him seems to be dissipating somewhat, and he's starting to feel achy and tired.
"I think you wanted in on our date. Zayn said you did, at least.” Harry plops down next to Louis right as he's making a mental note to murder Zayn to death and make it look like that demon thing did it. Fortunately, Harry's taken off his soiled boots; one of his socked feet worms its way between Louis’s. He leans in, closer than anyone really should lean in and, with the gentlest touch, lifts the bag of peas to survey the damage. He tsks and pushes Louis’s fringe away as his gaze drops to Louis’s mouth. His hand lingers on Louis's scalp. "Such a shame,” he says, "Such a pretty face.”
Louis’s cheeks burn and he can feel his heartbeat up in his throat as he meets Harry’s eyes, which are still bright and energetic from the heat of the battle. He should look away, he knows, away from Harry's gorgeous and vibrant eyes and the way that, even now, his lips are slightly parted, but fuck if Harry isn’t stupidly gorgeous, even if his sort-of girlfriend is in the room and probably angry.
"Um,” he says, sounds stuttering out of him. Smooth, Tommo. Real smooth. "It’s fine. It’ll heal.”
"Oh, so you think you’re tough, huh,” Liam says from his other side, and Louis hadn’t even noticed her weight shifting the couch as she sat down. He feels her now, though, where her breasts are pressed up against his back and her hand has snaked around his waist to land on his stomach. His skin buzzes with it. He sucks in a breath, jittery, suddenly remembering the burst of arousal he'd felt right after Liam ripped the heart out of the demon.
"What’s happening,” he says, because this is quite like most of the dreams he’s been having lately. "Did I hit my head again?”
"Of course not,” Harry says, taking the peas and dropping them over the back of the couch. His fingertips touch Louis’s cheek, gentle, and then his jaw. There's a pause, and when Louis twists to look, Harry's eyes are locked on Liam's, almost like they're having a silent conversation. And then everything unpauses, and Harry's thumb brushes against the very edge of Louis's lip. "We just thought you might like to join us. Since you followed us all that way. That okay?”
Louis lets out a shaky breath, adrenaline spiking back through him. The thing is, he’s looking at Harry and Harry doesn’t look like he’s joking and when he turns around to look at Liam, she doesn’t look like she’s joking either. They both just — look like they want him. That can’t be right, can it? Especially after all their lecturing about how he could have got all of them killed.
"Are you sure you’ve not made a mistake?” He hates how quiet his voice gets when he says it, but he has to ask. And he’s not like, down on himself or anything. Louis Tomlinson is a fucking catch, and he knows it. Even for badass chicks who can rip the hearts out of monsters with pretty much just one hand. It’s just — he’s never been caught by two people at once before. It’s one thing when they’re ogling him shirtless, it’s completely different when he’s pressed between them on the couch. "I mean — just — Are you sure?”
Liam’s breath hits his ear and he squirms as her fingers tighten in his shirt, nails barely scraping his stomach. "I’m sure. Harry, you sure?”
"Yeah, I’m sure.” Harry’s voice has gone low and Louis’s dick jumps in his pants at the sound of it. Harry’s hand lands on his knee, squeezing gently; he reaches to rest his other hand on where Liam's wrist is pressed against Louis's stomach. "Are you sure, Louis?”
Louis swallows, his throat tight, and looks at Harry and then at Liam. He's starting to understand something about the two of them, maybe, about the physicality with which they live their lives and how it must translate to more than just fighting the forces of darkness and evil. "Yeah,” he says, nodding. This is what he's been angling for for over a month; like he could say 'no' now. "I’m sure.”
Harry makes a pleased noise as Liam hums beside him, sliding her hand up his shirt as Harry’s hand slides up Louis’s knee to his tease at the button of Louis's jeans, palm resting heavily on where Louis's dick is beginning to take interest and starting to chub up below. "Oh, fuck,” Louis breathes, his head falling back on Liam’s shoulder as Harry’s hands tug at his waistband. "Haven’t even kissed me yet, have you?”
Both Harry and Liam pause so long that Louis lifts his head, worried he’s said the wrong thing. But all Harry says when they make eye contact is a murmured, "C’mere,” as he crawls up.
Louis leans down to meet him, cheek twinging with a momentary pain as their mouths meet, but then Harry licks into his mouth, drawing a broken noise from Louis as he runs his tongue over the backs of his teeth. "Fuck, you’re good at that,” Louis says when Harry pulls away, and turns his head to Liam. "Your turn, love.”
"Oh, is it?” she asks quietly, not waiting for an answer. Liam’s lips are, somehow, even softer than Harry’s, the press of them no gentler but more urgent. He cranes his neck to get more, moaning into her mouth as Harry’s hands draw his dick out of his pants and work him to full hardness. He pulls away from Liam with a gasp as Harry envelopes him in wet heat, hands going to the base of Louis’s cock as he works over the head.
"He’s good with his mouth, isn’t he,” Liam says on a sigh, her hands working up and under Louis’s shirt again; Louis feels a little thrill of victory about actually being right about the nature of their relationship and getting the opportunity to be a part of it and learn even more about it. The thrill shivers under his skin in time with the swooping little quiver in his stomach muscles as Liam's fingers brush over them, infinitesimally light. She finds his nipples and pinches, hard, rolling the nubs of them between her fingers, and Louis’s back arches, hips lifting, thrusting up.
Harry makes a choking noise as his lips meet the base of Louis's cock, and Louis swears, his hand going to Harry’s hair to pull him off and ask, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
Liam laughs in his ear and Harry raises an eyebrow at him. "I like it,” he says, voice raspy, like it should be the most obvious information in the world, and sinks down on Louis’s cock again.
"Oh, okay,” Louis says, feeling faint. Liam sucks a mark into his neck, her teeth grazing his pulse point as Harry doubles down, taking Louis in until his nose hits the hair at the base of Louis’s cock, deliberately this time. "Fuck,” Louis swears, and swears again when Harry starts to swallow around his dick, throat fluttering around the head.
Louis feels like every muscle in his body’s gone taut, just on the edge of coming, but Liam’s hand grabs Harry’s hair and pulls him off roughly, causing an obscene slurping noise. Louis gasps, confused, a complaint at the tip of his tongue, but Liam just pushes Harry out of the way and climbs into Louis’s lap instead, placing one hand in the sweat collecting on his heaving chest.
His hands go to her hips, and she smiles down at him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them under her dress. He gets the hint, using one hand to cup her, feeling the wetness through her knickers. He runs his finger over the edge of the damp fabric down to the inside of her thigh, smiling at the way she shivers. She opens her mouth to speak, but Louis doesn’t let her. He pulls her knickers to the side and sinks a finger into her, licking his lips at the feeling and wishing he’d got his mouth on her instead.
That monster didn't cut my circulation off too badly, he thinks, absurdly, as he twists his wrist a little to get a better angle on her, and he's about to huff out a hysterical chuckle at the thought when Harry’s hands wrap around his cock again, only this time he’s rolling a condom on and, instead of laughing, Louis’s breath leaves him all at once. "Christ,” he gasps, and fucks a second finger into Liam’s cunt, making her moan. She shifts on his lap as she leans down and into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leans his forehead against his.
"Please,” she says, and Louis doesn’t need to be told twice. He pushes in, pulling down on her hips so they meet in the middle, Liam’s nails clawing at his back. He lets her set the pace, snapping his hips up to meet hers as she rolls hers down, and looks up at her as her cheeks and neck get even more flushed, as her chest starts heaving and her hair, still in the no-nonsense ponytail she pulled it into when she came to rescue him, bounces with her movements.
She’s a fucking vision, honestly, tendrils of her hair pulling free of the elastic and curling around her face, and Louis works her dress open in the back and yanks it down inelegantly, curling in a little so he can get his mouth on her breasts, Harry helping him out and running his hands over and over Liam's shoulders once they're bare, scratching lightly where they're flushed red with her arousal.
Liam makes a lovely sound as Louis bites at the edge of her nipple and sucks it into his mouth, working it into a hard little nub and tasting the sweat on it and the hint of blood behind it. Harry's hands disappear as Liam grinds her hips down, and Louis releases her breast to move to the other one, biting gently as he shifts over.
There's a rustling, and Harry pushes Louis forward a little so that he can settle down behind him, pressing in close enough that Louis is half-sitting, Harry's hard cock pressed tight against the small of his back as Liam fucks down on Louis. "How’d you know she’d love that,” Harry murmurs behind him when Louis bites down on her nipple again, mouth hot on his ear and one hand at Louis’s collarbone, trapped between his and Liam’s bodies; he nudges it over to take Liam's free nipple between his fingers, knuckles digging into Louis's chest. He's trailing his other hand down Louis’s spine slowly, clearly, thrillingly, making his way toward Louis’s arse. "She likes that the most, you know,” he continues, blithely inching his fingers down past Louis’s waistband. "Loves when I play with them. One time I got her off with just a pair of clamps and my fingers.”
"Fuck,” Louis gasps out, hips jerking up in a hard thrust. Liam whimpers above him, rocking down harder against him, mouth wide open and panting.
Harry’s fingers slip between Louis’s arse cheeks, making him gasp again. Harry's cock twitches against his back. "Think I’ll have a go at you next time,” Harry says, drawing his hand out and working it between Louis and Liam’s bodies to rest on Louis’s stomach. "If you’d like that, of course.”
Louis leans his head back, reaching blindly back with one hand and grasping for Harry’s lap, tugging at his flies. "Take your damn jeans off,” he growls out, making Harry laugh. He fumbles them open one-handed, and Louis knocks that hand out of the way so that he can get his own hand on Harry's dick. Harry’s dripping wet, leaking precome at the head, and Louis uses it to slick his hand and jerk him off the best he can, even though the angle is making his wrists ache where the rope had been biting into his skin.
Harry starts moaning, letting the hand he has in between Louis’s and Liam’s bodies fall away from Liam's nipple; he pushes it further down, close to where Louis is still thrusting up into Liam. Louis can feel Harry's knuckles at the base of his cock, nudging a little; that, and the way that Liam gasps tells Louis that Harry is rubbing at her clit with his thumb. Louis drives his hips up harder, feeling the beginnings of his own orgasm fast approaching, vision clouding for the second time that night - luckily for a much nicer reason now.
He loses it when Liam comes, spilling hot into his condom as she clenches around him, eyes screwed tight shut as her nails dig into the flesh of his chest and his side hard enough to leave marks, panting against Louis’s neck as she tightens around him, rhythmic and warm, and glorious.
She slides off him when she’s done, and, condom still wet around his softening dick, Louis scrambles around, flipping onto his knee and pushing Harry back against the couch. He's desperate to get his mouth on him, practically moaning once he feels the weight and musk of Harry on his tongue. Louis is way too far gone for very much finesse, but it doesn't seem to matter - it's only just a few moments more before Harry’s spilling into his mouth and all over his chin and the couch.
Louis swallows what he can, because he’s a good person, and sits up. Liam is sat next to Harry now, squeezing on a little patch of cushion, arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders as she runs a hand through his short hair again and again, scratching lightly. "There, there," she's murmuring, almost too soft for Louis to make it out.
"Do you always have sex like this after you've killed something?" Louis asks, once he's managed to catch his breath. He's pretty sure he's clocked them, the way they could fight without talking on the battlefield because they were so in-sync with the way they moved together; the way they fucked just now. It's pretty fucking obvious that Liam talks with her body at least as much as she does with her words, especially around Harry. That much has been obvious since Louis first ran into her at Asda. It's not a startling revelation. A good staking says as much as a speech to her, maybe. The way she's looking at Harry, eyes soft, chest still heaving a little as she comes down from her orgasm — the same could be said about sex, for her.
More surprising, at least on the surface, is how Harry seems to be just the same way. His physicality is a little more understated; he's a little more uncoordinated. But when it really matters… Louis gets the sense that sex after fighting might be his way of touching base, of expressing some of his feelings. About Liam, or about her slaying, Louis can't be sure. His heart still lodges, firmly, in his throat at the thought of it.
Harry and Liam exchange a look. "Yeah, pretty much," Harry says, still breathless. Those three words speak untold volumes.
Liam shrugs and nods in agreement, then adds, "Well. Usually it's just the two of us."
"Good to know,” Louis says, heart leaping again, and closes his eyes.
—
"So, hey," Liam says.
Louis blinks blearily at her. He's vaguely aware of Zayn, because he's emanating heat behind him, staring at the vision in their doorway.
Liam is wearing jeans for once, instead of her ubiquitous leggings, and they hug her thighs really, really nicely — Louis wants to put his teeth on them, worry at the seams running up her legs. Her shirt drapes loose over her breasts, and her hair is down, pulled over one shoulder.
"You're fucking gorgeous," Louis says, before he registers that that's not necessarily the most appropriate response to a greeting. He shakes his head and says, "I mean, hi. What's up?"
"Me and Harry were thinking," Liam says running a hand through her hair and twisting the ends of it around her fingers. "Since you keep ending up, you know. Around us. When things are happening. That maybe we should — um." She casts a look at Zayn over Louis's shoulder, then re-focuses on Louis. "Help you prepare. You know, with us. In Harry's spare room."
Louis squints. He's only just woken up, and he's not entirely clear on whether she's inviting him to have really raunchy sex with them in the sex dungeon, or whether she's saying they want to train him to fight monsters.
Either way, he's in. "Sounds good," he says. He pauses, still hyperaware of Zayn, and offers, "Fancy a cuppa? I can flip the kettle on."
Liam flashes a smile, shaking her head so that her hair falls back over both shoulders. Louis has to drag his eyes away from the arch of her neck. "Cheers for the offer," she says. "I've actually got to get to work right now; just thought I'd pop by on the way out."
She turns to go, and Louis lets the door fall closed behind her. Liam gives music lessons to kids — she'd wanted to go into music engineering before she'd come into her powers, and has told Louis that keeping with that even a little bit on top of her slaying keeps her sane — because she's the coolest girl in the entire world.
"What," Zayn says, as the latch catches behind Liam, "the fuck."
"You know me and the ladies," Louis equivocates. "And the gents."
"You didn't tell me," says Zayn, slapping at Louis's shoulder, but not putting too much energy into it. "You dickhead."
"That Harry and Liam decided we can all be friends? Pretty sure I did, mate," Louis says, patting Zayn blearily on the cheek.
"That's not — whatever," says Zayn. "I have to — go. Talk to Niall. Or something"
"Okay, well, I'm going back to bed," Louis tells him. "Tell Niall to be quiet if she comes over."
"If she comes — right," Zayn says, a weird expression crossing over his face, very briefly. Louis ignores it in favor of his pillow, though, and as he's just about to faceplant on his bed, he registers Zayn calling behind him: "We're still talking about this when you get up!"
—
Unfortunately, Louis doesn’t get the chance to practice fighting until after he makes an arse out himself at least one more time.
There’s a pounding knock on Louis’s door and he perks up from where he’s sat on the couch. He thought Liam and Harry were out for the day — some sort of appointment across town that they promised wasn’t hunting related and Louis was too high and lazy to follow them this time — but perhaps they’re back early and want to have him for dinner. Or he could have them for dinner, since it’s his flat. Whatever.
"Come in,” he yells, hoping it’s loud enough. "Door’s unlocked!”
And, Niall’s always on him about how stupid it is to leave the door unlocked - even though it benefits her, mostly, because she can swing by whenever and neither he nor Zayn need to get up to let her in - but clearly she’s wrong because there’s the door opening to let Harry and Liam in and Louis hasn’t had to leave the couch.
Except, it’s not Harry or Liam who walk through the door. It’s a massive fucking vampire, weird wrinkly forehead and all and it growls from where it’s stood in the doorway.
"Shit,” Louis says, and scrambles off the couch. The vampire takes a step in, takes a big sniff — which, weird, what, is it smelling the air?? — and yells again. Louis makes a noise in his throat, unable to keep it in, and runs into the kitchen. There are knives in the kitchen, pointy knives, and maybe he can like, stab it? Kill it? Oh god.
He pulls a drawer open once he’s in there, looking for the longest knife he can find, but he’s grabbed around the waist before he can get one, his fingers scrabbling in the drawer as he’s lifted away. "Fuck, fuck!” he yells, hoping Zayn or Niall is home, but knowing they’re not because, fuck, Zayn went to Niall’s to like, do — something? Whatever, he doesn’t know. It doesn’t seem too important when a vampire’s got a death grip on his waist.
"Put me down, put me down, put me down,” he says, kicking his feet as hard as he can and scratching desperately at the thing’s arms. He’s bitten his nails down, though, in preparation for more sex and — fuck, it’s like trying to knock down a fucking wall. "What do you want? Fuck, come on!”
The vampire doesn’t answer, instead it slams him into the kitchen table.
The table shatters under him, it feels like. Wood splintering easily as if it were glass and not teak, and fuck that burns. God. Christ. He can’t breathe.
"Where is the Slayer,” the vampire asks, and Louis wheezes out a breath. The vampire steps over him, looking down, and Louis closes his eyes, wraps his fingers around a piece of wood and tries to remember everything Harry’s told him about vampires.
They don’t like sunlight, obviously. Or fire, or holy water, or having their heads cut off. The stake can work, but only directly in the heart.
Directly in the heart. Right. No problem. Louis can totally do that. He shrugs at the vampire to hide the way he's now got his hand firmly wrapped around a makeshift stake.
"I will not ask again, human.”
Louis opens his eyes. "I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he says, "But my roommate isn’t home, and none of us even listen to heavy metal, so...”
The creature growls, reaching down, but Louis rolls, managing to get between the legs and stand up behind it. He’s a bit dizzy, but bolts for the windows, pulling down the curtains and blinds as the vampire matches his speed like it’s nothing. It probably is nothing, really, but the sunlight slows him down, and Louis has never been more thankful for a west-facing window. The vampire yells again, covering its face and staggering back. Louis takes the opportunity to push it over the back of the couch and follows it, landing on its chest.
They stare at each other a moment, surprised, and then Louis lifts his stake and yells as he plunges it into the vampire’s chest.
It disappears under him in a cloud of dust and he thumps slightly to the floor, his hands still tight around the makeshift stake. His chest is heaving and his heart feels like it might pound out of his chest, but fuck. Fuck. He’s alive.
"Okay,” a voice says from the doorway, and Louis looks up to see Liam and Harry, their eyes wide. "Seeing someone else do it,” Liam says, her head nodding slightly. "I get it. It is kind of hot.”
Louis gives her a grin but it feels weak on his face. "I, um.” He takes a deep breath, trying to uncurl his fingers. "I think I need some help,” he says, lowering his arms. "I don’t, um.” He looks up at them, swallowing hard. "I can’t move my hands?”
Harry rushes over, landing hard on his knees and reaching out to touch Louis’ hands gently. "There we go,” he says softly, one of his hands going to Louis’s back. He’s so close that Louis can smell him, something warm and comforting about it, a hint of freshness from his cologne. Something in Louis’s stomach unclenches and he leans into him with a gasp. "That’s it,” Harry says, a hand cupping the back of Louis’s neck. "Give me the stake, love. Come on.”
Louis lets it go and takes in another deep breath, the gravity of what’s just happened hitting him. He’s just killed a vampire. A vampire, that he invited in because he’s a stupid idiot and he definitely almost died and he definitely has never felt more bad-ass and more terrified in his life.
"Oh god,” he says, pressing closer into Harry, closing his eyes in relief when Harry’s arms wrap around him. "Oh my god.”
"Think we ought to keep this,” Liam says, closer than Louis expects. Louis turns to look at her. She’s got the stake in her hands, examining it carefully. "May come in handy.”
"We can put it in our shrine to Louis,” Harry adds, and Louis snorts.
"Please,” he says, but can’t actually think of anything else to say. Harry and Liam both seem to get it, and Louis feels Liam’s warm body envelop him from behind. He sinks into both of them with a sigh, feeling safe and protected and good.
"Thank you,” he mumbles. The only reply he receives are soft kisses to either side of his head.
—
He gets a text from Zayn a good four hours later when he’s laying in between Harry and Liam in Harry’s huge bed, naked and knackered.
no offense bro but what the fuck happened to our table
Ah. Right. Louis winces and types out a reply.
you wouldn’t believe me if I told you
—
Louis, for how fucking traumatised he feels, sleeps soundly that night, nestled between Harry and Liam. He wakes with a mouthful of Liam’s hair and Harry wrapped around him like an octopus. He groans, wincing at the pain in his ribs, but doesn’t move. Harry stirs a moment later, humming, the vibrations tickling Louis’s back.
"Morning,” he says, voice raspy, and Louis’s dick kicks to life with a vengeance.
"Put that away,” Liam groans, and Louis grunts at her in reply.
"I’ll make breakfast, shall I?” Harry says, entirely too cheerfully. He slips out of bed and Louis rolls over onto his back, breathing slowly, willing his morning wood to go down.
"I was terrified my first time, you know,” Liam says quietly a few moments later, once Louis’s dick has been wrangled to half-mast. The ivory sheets barely cover Liam’s unmentionables, and Louis has to press the heel of his palm down on the base of his dick to keep it under control. Liam clarifies, "The first vampire I killed. Nearly killed me too, I think.”
Louis looks up at her face, brow furrowing. It’s hard to imagine Liam frightened, much less terrified for her life like Louis was. She seems so cool, so unshakeable. Louis reaches out, runs his thumb down her jawline. "But it didn’t.”
"It didn’t,” Liam agrees, nipping at his thumb. Louis scoots closer, wincing again at the pain in his ribs. Fucking vampires. Fucking tables. "I had no idea what was going on, though. Harry found me and explained it all. I didn’t want to do it.”
"Be a Slayer?”
Liam nods, running a hand through Louis’s fringe. "It’s a lot of responsibility. A lot of risking my life for the good of everyone else. A lot of sacrifice.”
Louis looks at her, really lets himself look and think about what it’s like, what it must take to go out night after night and risk her life to save millions and billions of people she’s never met. People who don’t know or care. Fuck. They don’t deserve her. He rolls onto his knees, straddling her waist, nudging their noses together.
"I think you’re brave,” he says softly. "Bravest person I’ve ever met. And I think it’s ace what you’re doing. What you’ve done. You could've just had the power and not used it, and look at you. Most badass Slayer in London.”
Liam lets out a breath, soft against Louis’s lips. "You’re just trying to get in my pants again.”
Louis grins. "Hard to get in your pants when you’re not wearing any,” he says, and she laughs, a bright sound that fills Louis’s chest with warmth. He kisses her quiet until Harry comes back in the room with breakfast, and then the three of them sit on the bed wrapped in Harry’s ruined sheets to eat the eggs he’s made.
—
Training with Liam is like training with one of those crazy blokes that Louis sees sometimes on facebook in videos that his casual acquaintances share. She makes him do things with kettlebells and ropes and she makes him go to an actual gym which is, frankly, ridiculous.
Of course, they do all of their hand-to-hand combat in Harry’s spare room. There’s a rather large mat that takes up most of the floor space when it’s all spread out, and Louis’ just spent the last hour and a half getting knocked on his arse over and over again. He’s sweaty, sore and desperately needs a piss.
"Please,” he wheezes out, star-fished on his back and looking up at the ceiling. "I’ve got to have a break. I’ve got to go pee.”
"A likely story,” Liam says, and hauls him up like he weighs nothing. And, yeah, alright, Louis is pretty tiny but he likes to think he’d be a bit more difficult for a girl to throw around. Super Slayer Strength, he reminds himself, and takes a deep breath, bending slightly at the knees to get in position.
Liam launches herself at him and he manages to dodge, doing a rather elegant spin to do so and running to the opposite side of the mat. Liam’s on him still, though, so it’s a desperate attempt to take her down when he dives for her legs. She side-steps, but he wraps an arm around her thigh and it’s apparently surprising enough that she actually goes down with a yelp.
Of course, she lands on top of him, the bulk of her weight landing heavily on his bladder. He wheezes out a breath and squeezes his eyes shut, the need to pee about ten times worse than it was before. It aches, almost, a deep ache between his hips that’s similar to arousal but bordering closer to pain than pleasure. It makes his pulse kick up, his chest go a bit tight, but not in a bad way.
"You’re getting better,” Liam says, panting slightly. Louis can’t even think of how to answer. She hasn’t moved from her spot. She shifts a bit, her bum sliding back, and Louis’s hips jerk, overwhelmed from the pressure on his bladder and his dick.
"Liam,” he says in a warning tone. Or, the most warning tone he can manage when he’s about five seconds from both wetting himself and getting hard. Or getting hard and wetting himself? Or — just — God. He can’t fucking think.
Liam frowns down at him and they stay like that for a long moment, just staring at one another. Then, slowly, Liam picks her hips up and presses them back down. Louis chokes on his breath and grabs her hips, fingers digging in. "Liam,” he repeats, pleading this time.
"You’ve really got to go, huh?” Her hand slips down his torso and lands low on his belly. Her touch is light, ticklish, almost worse than if she just dropped all her weight on him at once. His ab muscles flutter involuntarily and he whimpers. "I want you to do it here. Only if you want to, though. Can you do that for me?” Her eyes are dark when she looks at him, something hungry in her gaze, a combination of their sparring and the power she's currently got over him. The way his half-chub is pressed up between her and his aching bladder, the way she's sitting. She looks like she wants to consume him. Louis would let her. "Louis? Can you?”
This is, by far, the weirdest fucking thing he’s ever done, ever really even thought of doing, but fuck if he doesn’t want to give Liam everything she asks for. Her eyes are so dark, and she's beautiful with little tendrils of hair falling into her face. She shifts down, harder, against his bladder, putting more of her weight there and smiling at him encouragingly.
Why she wants him to piss himself, he’s got no idea. But he’s going to do it. He nods, his hold on her hips loosening.
Liam adjusts on top of him, sliding down his body again, leaning onto his bladder and whispering things that Louis hears but can’t comprehend. She looks fucking beautiful as always, her hair frizzing out of the elastic, her chest flushed and damp with sweat and her sports bra just barely covering the fading love bite he’d left on her while Harry fucked her from behind. He can’t help but get turned on, the pull of arousal in his gut making everything turn into sweet-sharp pain that makes him bite his lip and lean his head back against the mat. He moans Liam’s name, lifting his hips, but Liam’s weight settles against him, pinning him.
"You really are gorgeous like this,” she says, almost idly as she runs her hands under his shirt and back down his sides. The next time she digs her nails into his skin. "It’s almost unfair.”
Louis gasps, hands going to her wrists and gaze meeting hers. "Liam,” he says, voice still pleading to match the way his hips have started rocking up into hers needily. "Please.”
She softens at that, freeing a hand to bring it up to his face, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead. "Of course love,” she says. "Go on. Show me you can do it.”
"Fuck, kiss me,” Louis gasps, and Liam leans down, pressing her full weight into his hips as she bites at his mouth. Louis whimpers and lets go, soaking his shorts until the front is warm and wet, the pee spreading down between his legs and puddling behind him on the mat on the floor below them.
He lays there for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut, his face burning red. He just wet himself. With Liam on top of him. With Liam’s encouragement. Christ. He takes a deep breath, getting ready to say something but he’s interrupted by Liam leaning over him and then tugging his shorts down.
"Liam, what —” He doesn’t get to finish, because she dumps the rest of his water onto his crotch. He yelps, sitting up on his elbows and staring at her, eyes wide.
"Just to be clear,” she says, smirking at him with his empty water bottle in hand. "There aren’t any demons you can kill with uric acid.”
Louis stares at her as she laughs at him, and decides that simply won’t do. He rears up and tackles her, surprising himself with the amount of force he’s able to get from his odd position. Liam must not expect it at all because she goes down easily, though she’s still laughing even as he’s on top of her.
"Louis,” she says, wriggling around. Louis holds fast, though, and manages to pin her on her belly with his hips on her arse and hands on her wrists. His dick is still half-hard, his shorts soaking wet and rucked down so they’re mostly around his thighs and he’s pressing right up against her arse. Usually he’d be embarrassed, or worried about being rude, but Liam’s not said anything and she’s never had any trouble with that before. Fuck. Fuck. She shifts under him, bringing a leg up so their hips slot together even better and Louis has to keep himself from rutting into the sweet swell of her bum. God, he wants to. Her leggings are damp from his piss and the water that's now trickling down from his crotch; he can just picture the way the fabric would drag against his dick.
He leans down to speak in her ear. "Are you going to yield?”
Liam lets out a short breath, her eyes widening. "Louis,” she starts, but he cuts her off with a bite to the shoulder. He noses up into her hairline, teeth grazing the tendon in her neck. He feels her shiver under him, hears the tiny, tiny noise she makes. It makes his dick twitch, and fuck, he wants to be inside of her.
"You going to let me fuck you like this, Liam?” He presses his hips into hers, gasping at the feel of the smooth wet fabric of her leggings against the head of his cock. "Hm? Gonna let me take your leggings off and get my dick in you?”
"Yeah, yes, fuck,” Liam says on a gasp, that makes something pull low in Louis’s gut. "Please, Louis.”
"Of course, darling.” He gets a hand in the waistband of her leggings and tugs them down, biting back a moan when he exposes her arse. Fuck, it’s such a good arse. He should’ve taken the time to go down on her, left a few marks on it, but now all he can think about is fucking into her and hearing her moan. "Stay still,” he says, as he uses both his hands to tug her leggings completely off and bend her legs so he can sit behind her, getting his hands on her hips again.
"Never seen you this obedient,” he says, swiping two fingers between her legs to check that she’s wet. She is, which is good, because he hasn’t got a condom or lube out here. They haven’t really been using condoms, not since Liam mentioned her IUD and then Harry dragged them all to a free clinic to get tested because he’d wanted to fuck Louis bare. He rubs at her clit with his thumb for good measure, just to make sure that she's really raring to go, grinning to himself when she mutters that he deserves her obedience now, after how good he was for her.
Louis wishes, for a split second, that Harry was here to see him fuck Liam like this, both of them so wet and desperate and turned on, but he doesn’t have much time to ruminate on it before Liam’s groaning and impatiently asking, "Well, are you going to do this or not?”
For that, he fucks in all at once, a hand holding Liam at the base of the neck as he snaps his hips forward. Liam cries out, a beautiful, "oh fuck,” in the tone he’s come to know means she’s enjoying herself.
He goes slow, taking the time to pull all the way out and press back in hard, grinding once his hips meet her bum. Liam takes it, not trying to roll over or getting bossy like she usually does when someone’s fucking her. It makes Louis’s chest clench up, makes him think maybe she should be rewarded.
His hand digs into the base of her neck and he tugs, speeding up his thrusts as she lifts herself up on her hands. Louis wishes there were a mirror in front of them so he could see her face, see what her tits look like bouncing as he thrusts into her. Harry hasn’t got a mirror in here, though, something about demons and vampires and monsters and mirrors and — whatever, he really shouldn’t be thinking about this.
Louis leans back, changing the angle, grinning when Liam gasps out his name and falls onto his elbows, her hips fucking back to meet his. He reaches around, gets two fingers on her clit and works it as he fucks her, slowing down as she starts to come, thrusting all the way in, grinding as she comes down. He only pulls out when she bats his hand away with a weak noise.
She flops over, chest heaving. "Jesus Christ,” she says, and Louis lets out a weak laugh as he gets a hand on himself, coming when Liam’s hand joins his, teasing around the head. He comes all over her hip and the mat, and flops down on the opposite side when he’s done.
They lay there for moment, catching their breath before Louis asks, "So, can I come out on patrol next time?”
Liam laughs and shoves her hand in his face. "Not a chance,” she says, and rolls up to put her leggings back on. Louis can’t even be mad about it.
—
They let him come along on patrol a few weeks later.
"There's no apocalypse predicted for tonight," Liam says, anxiously, peering out at the moonless night from Harry's front-room window. It's balmy out, thick with the promise of rain but not yet committing to any particular influx of weather. "Nor have there been reports of any strange deaths lately, so it should be fine."
"Do you… often deal with expected apocalypses?" Louis asks, frowning. He runs his thumb over his nice new sharpened stake, and yelps as he gets stuck with a splinter.
Harry comes in from the kitchen, tray full of steaming mugs of tea in hand, as Louis sticks his thumb into his mouth to suck the splinter out. He stares at Louis for a moment, expression funny — eyes tracking Louis's hand, yet somehow also distant. "Every so often," he says, finally. "What, once a year? Twice?"
"Thereabouts," Liam agrees. "Someone inevitably makes an attempt."
Louis doesn't know why he is, at this point, surprised. "When's the next one expected, then?"
"August, I think," Harry says. He puts the tray down and passes teas all around. "Unless there's a big bad that rears its ugly head beforehand, but usually word of mouth gets to us before the devastation rains down."
"Usually," Louis repeats, dumbly.
"There was that Lumpir uprising a year and a half ago," Harry says, vaguely. "We stopped it in the end, but..."
"Right," Louis says. He gulps down some of his tea, for lack of any other good way to react. "Great. Good to know. Appreciate the heads up."
"August shouldn't be too bad," Liam says, not at all reassuringly. "Just your regular run-of-the-mill human trying to gain unprecedented and unparalleled demonic power."
"Oh, just that, then," Louis says, a little hysterically. "Right. I'll just clear my schedule for that, shall I?"
"That's probably for the best," Harry agrees, placidly, but he takes a few steps closer and wraps a big warm arm around Louis's shoulders, reassuring; it's when he places his other hand soft over Louis's heart, though, that Louis can take a deep breath without passing out. "But me and Liam find it best to tackle one thing at a time. Preventing his invincibility next month, when it's predicted to occur. And today, vampires."
"You know, those things are very strong," Louis points out.
"But you've trained," Liam says, coming over and joining in on the hug. "And I'll be there. And Harry too, I suppose." She leans in and in a conspiratorial whisper that is definitely loud enough for Harry to hear, adds, "And you're so much less useless than he is, great clumsy Watcher that he is."
"Hey," Harry protests, and ruffles her hair.
Louis takes another few deep breaths. He did kill that vampire on his own without any help. Of course, he invited it in without any help, too, but he managed to defeat it once he'd learned of his mistake. He'll be with Harry and Liam all night, too. It'll be okay. "Okay," he says, finally. "Let's go stake some vamps."
"There's the spirit," Harry cheers, and they all file out into the night and into Highgate Cemetery, which Liam has to break into to enter and where, she assures him, an earlier-generation Slayer already staked Karl Marx over a hundred years ago, so at least they won't have to worry about him.
Louis doesn't know how to respond to that, so he flips his stake around in his hands to get a better grip. "Do people even still rise here anymore?"
"People do still get buried here," Harry points out. "But generally, of greater concern are vampires who nest in various memorials about the place."
Louis winces. Nests of vampires doesn't sound particularly appetizing.
"Look, we wouldn't have you come out here if we didn't think that you'd be more of a help of a hindrance," Liam says. Wickedly, smile curving her lips, she adds, "I've had to save your arse far too many times to risk that again."
"Hey," Louis says, shoving playfully at her.
"Hey," a new voice echoes. When Louis looks over, startled, he finds a girl with a gorgeous body and the telltale hideously-bumpy face of a vampire. "Slayer for dinner tonight, girls, who's with me?" She sniffs, a grotesque sound with her nose all vamp-y and scrunched up. "And some paltry men," she adds, scathingly.
"Won't disagree with you on that last point," says Harry, gripping his stake tight by his side. "But you won't be having Liam for dinner tonight, thanks."
I'd quite like to have Liam for dinner, Louis thinks, before he registers movement out of the corner of his eye and whirls to find another gorgeous girl vampire with a horrifying face, licking her fangs sloppily. He hesitates just long enough to notice Liam leaping stake-first at the main vampire, ponytail flying out behind her, legs poised to kick, and then rushes at the vampire closest to himself.
He jabs his stake between her ribs, and she growls, throwing him off her body.
"Why didn't…?" Louis asks, but Liam and Harry are both embroiled in their own battles.
"The heart, Lou," Harry shouts, as the dust from his target explodes around him, a cloud of dessicated vampire bits wafting on the air. He tosses Louis his stake, and Louis, shockingly, catches it, clutching it tight against his chest.
"I've never proper studied anatomy," Louis yells back. He does vaguely remember stuff about rib spaces from the early seasons of Grey's Anatomy he'd managed to force Niall into watching with him, though, and the stake his target is currently trying to wrest out of her body does appear to be hanging a little bit low.
He shoves Harry's stake a few inches higher while she's preoccupied with flinging his own away from her and, just as she's leaning in to yell in his face, or bite his neck and suck his blood, or whatever, she, too, disintegrates.
Liam has dispatched with the other two by the time Louis has retrieved his and Harry's stakes. "See," she says, grinning, swooping in to press a sweaty, grimy kiss against his jawbone, just under his ear. "You can hold your own."
"I can," Louis says, smile dawning on his face, and he passes the kiss on to Harry, handing Harry's stake over as he does so. "I can!"
—-
He can't.
He's stuck a week and a half later, held aloft by an incredibly strong, stupidly tall vampire, dreading being eaten and turned by the thing. Especially on a day when he'd left to help Liam patrol after fighting with Zayn about where he keeps 'disappearing off' to ("around, Zayn"), and whether it's safe ("obviously, what danger could I get into?"), and if it's really necessary to go out following Liam and Harry every night ("clearly"), and can't Louis just accept that he has a really bad feeling about all this.
Liam isn't actually there. She's run off after a demon that's been causing a ruckus at the local water purification plant, after triple-checking that Louis was fully stocked with holy water and crucifixes and stakes.
He was, but it's hard to access anything when you have a million-foot-tall monster pinning your arms against your side as he keeps you pinned up against the wall. Actually, Louis has had fantasies like this before, but it's been Harry doing the holding, not a vampire with giant ugly teeth and weird bumpy facial abnormalities, and also in the fantasies they're both naked and when Harry bites him it's not to make him turn into a vampire, it's to make him come.
"Do you see how small I am?" he demands of the vampire. "I hardly even have any blood inside of me! Super not satisfying!"
"You talk a lot," the vampire observes, shoving him harder against the wall, which is just — it's rude is what it is. Louis doesn't want to die on the elaborately-carved marble side of a mausoleum.
Plus, Louis isn't some motormouth. He wields his words like a carefully-crafted weapon. He wields his words like Liam wields her sharp, pointy objects. Like Zayn wields his broody looks. Like Harry wields his ancient tomes. Like Niall wields her — whatever, now's not the time, not when a vamp's incredibly rancid breath is blowing more and more strongly across his face. "You're rude," he tells the vampire. "Honestly. Attacking a harmless old human like me."
"A Slayer's friend is hardly harmless," the vampire contends, which is how Louis learns that the monstrous underbelly of London knows that he's been traveling around with Liam now, officially.
That's probably… not very safe.
"I don't know any spells and I'm not strong," Louis says, wiggling a little to try to get access to something a vampire can't stand. "I'm really only in it for the se — um." It's probably even less safe to admit to a murderous vampire who's going to turn him and enslave him to the cause of all that is evil that he's sleeping with Liam. "The stories. Love to impress a cute little witch with stories, me."
"There's no such thing as a cute little witch," the vampire says. He tightens his grip on Louis's arm when he notices Louis wiggling. Which is annoying, but Louis has, at least, managed to get a hand on the hoodie pocket where he stashed a bottle of holy water, so he's at least two percent more prepared for this entire situation than he was a few minutes ago.
"You probably just haven't met the right one yet," says Louis, sympathetically, and he wiggles the top off the bottle with the tip of his thumb and splashes it up, out of his pocket, at the vampire's wrist.
The vampire hisses and drops him. Louis hits his head on the way down. It's not enough to knock him out, but his vision does go a bit dim for a terrifying moment. As he blinks the stars from his eyes, he could swear that he hears a low growl coming from off in the distance — but surely that's a function of the knot forming rapidly on his head.
Louis manages to wrest a crucifix out of his other pocket — holding it aloft with his left hand — and grab one of the stakes he'd dropped earlier before the vampire stops shaking water droplets off his arm. The vampire is still a billion feet taller than he is, though, and broad and strong and annoyingly insistent on ruining about seventeen percent of the fantasies Louis has been harbouring about Harry, and it manages to back him against the wall again as soon as he straightens up.
"You're annoying," the vampire observes, licking its fangs. "It will be a joy to kill you."
Dying is probably better than being turned, because then, at least, he won't be used as a tool of darkness. That's what Louis tries to convince himself of, at least. "You don't look like you'd be very good at murdering," he says, bravely, gripping his stake like the lifeline that it is. "Your hands are too big and clumsy for a neat little kill, huh."
The vampire growls, and lunges at him; Louis knocks his head against the wall again as he tries to duck.
And that's when he realises — the growl didn't come from the vamp. It came from the great big gross hairy wolf-beast — werewolf, his brain supplies, and he's seen too many weird things lately for the unlikeliness of a werewolf running through a graveyard in London to truly register with him — bearing down on them.
The beast leaps at the vampire, knocking it away from Louis and digging its teeth in deep to the flesh of the vampire's shoulder. The vampire yowls, twisting away from the bite, but the wolf holds on, shaking its head, the ruff on its neck trembling with the movement.
Queasily, Louis watches the very moment when the flesh of the vampire's arm starts to separate from its body. Even more queasily, he stands and takes a few shaky steps forward. As the wolf snaps its head back, half-lifting the vampire up off the ground, Louis darts in, slamming his stake in the vampire's heart.
Belatedly, he realises his mistake. With no monster to chow down on, he's the only living thing in this entire cemetery for the werewolf to target. He doesn't even know how to kill a wolf. He doesn't know anything about actual, real-life werewolves: do they, like vampires, turn people with their bites, or just kill them? Do they, also like vampires, dabble in both strategies?
"Please don't eat me," he tells the wolf, backing up against the mausoleum wall again, this time of his own volition. All he has on him is an empty bottle of holy water, a silver crucifix, and a stake. His obituary is going to be really weird. "I would hate to have Zayn say 'I told you so' to my casket."
The wolf regards him for the longest, scariest moment of Louis's life, its eyes eerily blue even in the incredibly dim light of the moon, and even more eerily self-aware. He can feel its breath, puffing hot over his stomach. He closes his eyes when it presses its warm, wet nose against the fabric of his t-shirt, readying for the bite.
The bite doesn't come. Instead, he hears footsteps coming close, and then heavy paw-steps bolting away.
"Lou?" Liam asks, coming around the side of the mausoleum. When Louis opens his eyes, she's covered with ichor, ponytail matted to the side of her face, a cut deep in her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Louis says. He takes one deep breath, and then another. Now that the danger has maybe passed, he can feel the dull ache settling deep in his head. "I am now." He stumbles forward a few steps and puts an arm around her — to hold her up, or to hold himself up, he couldn't say. "You?"
"I am now," she echos, pressing a truly disgusting kiss, all smeared with demon guts, or blood, or whatever it is that's soaked her from head to toe, against his cheek. "Let's get back to Harry's, hm? Debrief and get patched up?"
"Yeah," says Louis. "Let's."
—-
Louis has to look away while Harry stitches the cut on Liam's arm up with a combination of pilfered suture kits and magic. She briefs them on the demons — slain, and attempting to drug the entire population of London into doing their bidding through the water source no more — while Harry works and Louis holds an ice pack to the back of his head.
"And how was your part of patrol, Louis?" Harry asks.
When Louis looks over, Harry has the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. Louis wants to kiss it, but then he catches sight of the needle working its way through Liam's flesh, a spark of magic guiding it correctly, and he winces and looks back to the wall. "Killed a vampire," he says, loftily.
"Oh, well done," Harry says, earnestly.
A chord of guilt twinges through Louis's heart. "I mean," he says. "The vampire did almost kill me first. After destroying about six of the distinct fantasies I have about Harry."
"But you got away," Liam says, voice low. Her tone is reassuring, almost, though Louis would honestly find it more reassuring if she or Harry asked for clarification on the fantasies.
"I might not've," Louis admits. "If it wasn't for the werewolf."
He senses, more than sees, both Harry and Liam freeze next to him. "The werewolf?" Harry asks, slowly.
"At least, I think that's what it was," says Louis. "Certainly looked like a human-wolf-thing. It attacked the vamp right when it was trying to kill me, and then I could get a good stake in."
"And then it… left? Without biting you?" Liam asks.
"Guess I smelled bad," Louis says, shrugging. "I'm completely bite-free today."
Liam and Harry exchange a look. "That's odd," Harry says, finally. "Are you sure it was a werewolf?"
"Well, I've never seen one before, have I?" Louis asks. "But like, I have no idea what else it could be."
Liam and Harry exchange another look. "So," says Harry, after another very long and very pregnant pause. He clears his throat, and adopts a more upbeat tone. "What are these fantasies you've had about me, then?"
"Well, I don't have them anymore," Louis says. "Being held up against a wall kind of loses its lustre when you've been nearly killed doing it."
"If you're sure," Harry says, in a doubtful sort of voice that Louis has learned means challenge accepted.
"Not while I've still got this great lump on me head, at least," Louis concedes. "Give it at least a week, Styles, you insatiable beast." But he turns his face up for the reassuring little kiss Harry leans in to brush against his mouth, anyway, and lets the relief at still being alive finally, finally flood through him.
—-
Zayn and Niall are not impressed when Louis makes his way back over to his flat the next morning. Niall is, in fact, pacing at the door.
"Where have you been," she demands, grabbing Louis by the arms none-too-gently and pulling him close, shaking him a little.
Louis is probably seeing things, because he could swear that she sniffs his neck during one particularly strong shake.
"Um, next door?" he says, pulling free of her grip and casting a glance back at Zayn. "I told Zayn when I left yesterday!"
"You yelled it at me," Zayn points out, voice flat. "After I told you I had a bad feeling about it."
"Did something happen?" Louis asks, frowning, looking between the two of them. "Oh god, Zayn, is your family —"
"My family is fine," Zayn says, shortly.
"Did something happen?" Niall interjects, incredulous. "Louis, have you seen your face? You're all scraped up; you tell us!"
"Sometimes, when a man loves a man and a woman very much," Louis says, defensively, even though it's not — it's not like he loves Harry and Liam yet; he just likes them a great deal, and likes that he doesn't have to sneak around to get them to involve him in their fight against evil — "He'll let them do really consensual kinky things to him. Ones that leave marks."
He hadn't even fucked Harry and Liam last night. He'd just curled up with them in Harry's giant soft bed in a huge doggy-pile of bodies, trying to keep his breath even, feeling the beats of their respective pulses against his arms as he laid awake, reminding himself that, against all odds, he survived.
"Really," Niall says, giving him a sharp look. "You stayed home with them all last night. You didn't take any walks by yourself in sketchy parts of the city."
That's — that's actually an incredibly weird question for Niall to ask, unless she actually saw him. And the only time he was alone was when Liam ran ahead in the cemetery to track down the demons. The vampire had shown up less than three minutes later, so if Niall had seen him, somehow, she would have seen a lot more than just Louis, standing alone in one of London's more run-down graveyards.
"Why would you think that?" he asks, finally, unwilling to outright lie.
Niall narrows her eyes at him for a long and very intense moment. "Just a hunch," she says, reluctantly.
"We just want to make sure your new sex friends aren't making you do anything dangerous in exchange for being your sex friends," Zayn explains. His voice is still tense, and when Louis looks at him, he notices that Zayn's eyes are also tight, and quietly watchful.
Louis deflates a little at the sight. "I love you," he tells them. "I'm sorry you were scared." He licks his lips, then thinks fuck it and pulls them into a big old group hug. "I promise, I'm safe with them."
Not safer, maybe; his world has opened up to so much more risk of being attacked by monsters. Or weirdly sniffed by monsters who then gallop away when Liam starts walking up, whichever. But between the two of them, Liam and Harry pretty much negate any increased risk Louis might experience by knowing them. Probably.
Hopefully.
"If you're sure," Zayn says, grudgingly, in a way that makes it clear that the matter is tabled for now, but definitely not dropped.
"Look, let's have them over for dinner," Louis suggests. "Niall, too — not that you're ever not here for dinner, Nialler — and that way you guys can get a sense for them and how they're okay people."
"If you insist," Zayn says, sounding very belabored indeed. But Louis can tell that he likes the suggestion, so instead of taking offense, he just ruffles Zayn's hair.
"Fine," Niall agrees, extricating herself from the hug. "Did you eat over there, then, or do you wanna go get breakfast?"
—-
Louis sits down heavily on the couch, the old thing creaking under his weight. He sighs and leans back, closing his eyes and relishing the brief, beautiful silence. They’d got a new associate barrister at work last week, and somehow it fell on Louis to introduce him around. Ed, the barrister, is nice enough, but he likes to talk. A lot. And he likes to sing. A lot. Used to want to be a performer or something, which means he makes a song out of every fucking thing he does in a day. He’s latched onto Louis, probably because Louis is the only one who’s spoken to him for more than fifteen minutes in a week, which means that Louis is the one who hears all the songs and the stories and it’s just — A lot. It’s a lot.
He forgets that he invited Harry and Liam over for dinner until about an hour before, which means he has to run to the Asda and pick up the stuff he’d said he get for Harry to cook — just because Louis is hosting doesn’t mean he’s cooking, after all — since all that’s in his freezer is a value size bag of frozen peas. The Asda’s crowded as fuck of course, so it takes much longer than he’d like to get the stuff and make it back. By the time he’s heaving the bags up the stairs, he can see Harry and Liam coming out of their door, looking fresh faced and lovely as always. A smile spreads across his face before he can stop it, which is dumb. Why’s he smiling? He’s not a smiler.
"Hello darlings,” he says, trying his best not to look terribly out of breath and red-faced. Harry smiles at him in that beautiful serene way he’s got and Liam quirks an eyebrow.
"Nice monkey suit,” she says, but presses a kiss to his cheek once he’s reached them all the same.
He shoves the key in the lock and rolls his eyes, turning his head to hide his pleased smile. "Just got off work, didn’t I?” He jiggles the doorknob and shoves the door open, holding it grandly for them as they walk in. He lets it fall shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he looks at the both of them. Harry’s in one of his bright, flowy shirts, floral and red contrasting with his black skinnies and stupid boots. Liam’s got a dark pair of jeans and one of those shirts with the straps that look like something out of a soft-core bondage magazine. Her hair’s in a side ponytail, the ends of it just below her breasts, and Louis wants to drag the both of them to his room and situate himself in between them for the night, but he can’t. He’s got this ridiculous dinner. Ugh. Whose idea was it, anyway. Anyone who says it was his is a liar and should be ostracised accordingly.
Harry waves a hand in front of his face, brow scrunched up adorably. "All right, Louis? Lost you there.”
Christ, he’s got to get ahold of himself. Louis laughs it off, running a hand through his hair. "Here,” he says, dumping the bags into Harry’s hands. "You get that started. I’m going to change.”
The right corner of Harry’s mouth and his brow quirk simultaneously. "You need any help with that?”
A fuck yes is on the tip of his tongue, but no. He can’t. They can’t, not yet. They have to make it through dinner. He rolls his eyes instead and slips down the corridor, loosening his tie as he does. He’s not in a suit per se, but it is a nice shirt and a fancy jacket with elbow patches that his mum had got him when he got the job. That was years ago now, but he hangs the jacket up carefully every time he’s done with it and takes care not to drop shit on it, because it’s one of the last things his mum ever got him and he hasn’t got the money for a replacement if he fucks it up. Not that he’d even want a replacement.
Whatever.
His fingers slide down the buttons of his shirt and he lets himself think about her a bit, about what she’d think if he told her he’s with two people. He’d keep some of the kinkier details out of it, of course — and he very specifically doesn’t think about his mum like, spying on him in heaven or whatever it is that angels do, supposedly — but he thinks she’d be happy for him. She only ever wanted him to be happy, really, and safe and he’s both of those things. More happy than safe, probably, but close enough. She’d like Liam’s fire and she’d adore Harry, possibly even more than she adored Louis, honestly, so it makes him a bit sad to think about how it’ll never happen.
"God, I am morose,” he mutters to himself, flinging himself on the bed once he’s changed into his joggers. He hasn’t got a shirt on, but he figures it can wait. It’s not as if Harry and Liam have never met Niall and Zayn. The world won’t explode without him.
The door creaks open after a few minutes, and the bed sinks next to him after a moment, the smell of Harry’s weird, special homemade body wash making Louis blink his eyes open. He hadn’t realised he’d closed them.
"Hey,” Harry says softly, running his thumb over Louis’s jaw.
Louis tilts his head into the touch. "Hey.”
"Food’s about halfway done.” Harry’s voice is still soft, coating Louis like honey. "Liam’s watching it.”
Louis snorts. "Oh, so we’re ordering in, then?”
Harry laughs, and lays himself down next to Louis on the bed. Louis’s hand finds his and Harry hooks their fingers together, palms smooth and warm. Louis wants to roll over and press his face into Harry’s chest. He doesn’t.
"You alright?”
Harry’s looking at their hands when Louis looks up at him. His brow’s furrowed green eyes clouded with concern, and Louis feels ridiculous all of a sudden.
"Just thinking about my mum,” he says on a breath and sighing afterward. So dramatic, so ridiculous. "She died a year ago.”
"I’m sorry,” Harry says, and everyone says that, but it sounds real from him. Genuine. Tears prick up at the corners of Louis’s eyes.
"Not your fault,” he says, and takes another deep breath. "Anyway, just wondering what she’d think of all this. Of you and Liam.”
Harry hums beside him, clearly not knowing what to say. No one ever really knows what to say, which keeps Louis from talking about it, but he’s just — got to say something.
"I miss her, every day,” he says. "And she really hated a lot of the shit I did, but I think. I dunno. I think she’d be proud. I think she’d like you. And Liam.”
"I should hope so,” Harry says, turning over to cup Louis’s cheek. He leans down to kiss him softly, and Louis lets out a breath against his mouth. "I’m proud of you, you know,” he says, when they’ve pulled apart. "All of this — it’s not easy, and you do it well.”
Louis’s face heats up. He loves praise and compliments, but this — so intimate, with Harry’s face only a few inches away from his — he’s overwhelmed. "Tell me how you became a Watcher,” he says, rolling onto his side. Harry laughs.
"It’s fairly boring, actually. A family thing, mostly. My sister is a Slayer, so I went to Watcher school to keep an eye on her.”
Louis raises an eyebrow. "They’ve got a school? Like what, Hogwarts?”
"No,” Harry snorts. "It’s in Hampshire. Nowhere near as cool as Hogwarts. But, useful. Of course, by the time I’d graduated, Gemma had already been assigned a Watcher, and I got assigned someone else.”
Louis frowns. "Liam?”
"No,” Harry says again. His expression goes dark, worried. "My first one, I was with her a year, but she died.”
"Oh.” Louis breathes out. He hadn’t thought — Harry is so young, is all. He’d thought he’d been with Liam the whole time. It makes sense, of course, but. Louis just hadn’t really considered that other Slayers do this. That they die. That Liam could die, or he could die or Harry could die. He pushes the thoughts away quickly. "I’m sorry. That’s — I’m sorry.”
"Not your fault,” Harry says with a shrug, but there’s something still off about his expression. "Unless you’re a demon disguised as a very fit neighbour, in which case I’m screwed.”
Louis barks out a laugh. "Literally, aren’t you? Or you could be later, if you want.”
Harry snorts and Louis leans up to kiss him, rolling onto his back and pulling Harry over with him. He wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, pressing his heel into his lower back to pull his hips down as their mouths meet over and over. He’s breathless by the time the knock on his door startles them apart.
It’s Liam, of course, looking at them with an amused twist to her mouth. "As much as I hate to end this, I think the food’s almost done.”
—
Harry’s at the hob when Zayn and Niall walk in, chattering away to each other before realizing they’re not alone. Louis is too distracted by the way Harry’s shoulders look as he reaches up for plates and sets them next to the stove, but Liam’s got a funny look on her face when Louis glances at her.
"Hey,” he says, and Zayn turns around quickly.
"Shit, mate, what are you — " It dawns on him once he sees Harry and Liam, who give him little waves. "Right,” he says, clearing his throat.
"Remember how our neighbours are coming over for dinner?" Louis asks, loudly. He's about 70% sure he forgot to actually mention the date of it to Zayn.
"Right,” Zayn says, clearing his throat and shooting a glare at Louis. "Just didn’t realise that was tonight.”
"Surprise,” Louis answers with a grin.
"Harry’s a very good cook,” Liam says, smiling prettily at them. She focuses on Zayn. "I saw those comics on the bookshelf, Louis said they’re yours?”
Louis said no such thing, but Zayn lights up like he does whenever he gets to talk about Marvel and Iron Man and whatever so he lets it slide. Niall frowns at them as they go off together, and Louis rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness of it.
"You get him every day, let someone new talk to him,” Louis says, looping an arm through hers and leading her into the kitchen. "Anyway, this is Harry.”
Harry turns around, a huge grin on his face. Louis rolls his eyes, a smile of his own coming to his face. Harry’s just so damn cute. It’s infuriating.
Niall looks him up and down. "The kinky sex dungeon owner?”
Harry’s expression quickly shifts. "Sex dungeon,” he says, alarmed. "We haven’t got a dungeon. Louis, did you tell her that I had a sex dungeon?”
Niall shrugs. "We hear enough thumping and moaning from over there that it seems like a logical explanation. And Louis —" she casts a stern look at him "— won’t tell us what’s actually in there, so, y’know. Sex dungeon.”
Harry barks out a laugh. "Well, I suppose if that’s what you want to call it,” he says, giving her a wink before he turns back to the stove.
Niall blinks, laughs softly, almost like she can’t help it. Louis is particularly familiar with the feeling.
Harry announces that dinner’s ready and sends Louis and Niall to set the (new, non-smashed) kitchen table. He follows them with the food, setting it out on the table family style. Niall pulls Zayn away from the comics and Louis pulls Liam into the chair next to him. There’s general chatter as they pass and serve the food, and then, once everyone’s plates have been filled, silence.
Awkward, awkward silence.
Well, maybe not technically silence, since there’s like, eating sounds or whatever. But there’s no conversation. No ribbing or teasing or long-winded storytelling. Just like, forks scraping on plates and silverware clinking. It’s sort of unnerving.
"Had a weird dream the other night,” Zayn says, loudly enough to startle Louis. Zayn turns to Niall. "You were like, a dog or summat. One of them white wolf looking things, like on Game of Thrones.”
Louis laughs, but he’s the only one who does. Niall’s face goes red, her blue eyes goes wide and — wait, blue eyes, like the one — like the — No. That’s stupid. He looks at Harry and Liam, who are both frowning, probably confused.
"Zayn has weird dreams all the time,” Louis says, a compulsive need to make this less awkward some way. "He’s always sketching them out. Told him he should make a proper book of it.”
"I’d love to see them sometime,” Harry says, smiling politely at Zayn. He’s got that look he gets when he sees a supernatural being and knows what it is before Liam does, but Louis doesn’t know what Harry could know about Zayn’s drawings. They’re just drawings.
"Sure,” Zayn says with a shrug. "But they’re not that good. Just like, doodles and shit.”
"Still,” Harry says with a shrug of his own.
"So what is it that you do?" Niall interrupts, turning to Harry with a pleasant smile. "Louis mentioned Liam's music lessons, but he hasn't said what your job is."
"Oh," says Harry, who pretty much lives off his stipend from the Watcher's council. "I, uh."
"Research," Liam interrupts, and Harry smiles at her, gratefully.
"Yeah," he says. "I'm in research. Translating and interpreting old myths and legends and the like, you know."
"No, I'm afraid I'll have to ask for a bit more detail than that, mate," says Zayn. His tone is mild, but Louis still kicks at his ankle, anyway.
"Well," Harry says. "In line with that dream you mentioned — lately I've been translating an old version of Giraud de Barri's treatise on Irish werewolves."
Niall knocks over her beer, and it goes splashing across the table. Liam jumps in surprise, automatically throwing her napkin over the spill.
"Sorry," says Niall, going a bit red. "I've just — heard of that, I suppose. Thought it was already translated?" She clears her throat. "In school, they told us that it was part of a really rotten book."
"Always worth reading the original Latin for yourself," says Harry, carefully, and then: "I'm reading it for the folklore, not the politics."
Louis gives Niall a long, suspicious look, but forces himself to blink and redirect his attention on the food. "Harry's very clever," he says, as blandly as he can manage.
"And Liam, you look like you work out a lot," Niall says. Louis wonders if she's trying to change the subject on purpose, and decides the answer to that is a lot more complicated than he's prepared to confront in this moment if he's to make sure dinner doesn't go entirely down the tube. "How on earth do you do it? I feel like me muscles are soup."
"I guess I just like… uh. Karate," Liam says. "Mixed martial arts. Boxing. That sort of thing." She pauses. "Harry's kind enough to let me train in his spare room, you know; men can be such pigs about those kinds of things at gyms."
"You're a fighter, then?" Zayn asks. He looks like he's torn between excitement and suspicion. Louis knows that Zayn loves boxing, himself, so that's probably where the excitement comes from, but then Zayn says: "But just for sport, right? You don't use it in the, um. Kinky things you do that leave Louis coming home with bruises, right?"
"Jesus, Zayn," Louis hisses. "You're not my real dad."
"Someone's got to be," says Zayn, darkly, but when Niall punches him in the arm, he winces and admits: "Sorry. Suppose I deserved that."
"I'm so, so sorry about him," Louis tells Harry and Liam, stung by Zayn's words and aching at how horrified they both look. "It seems my best mate has forgot what 'consensual and private' means."
Zayn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And another. And another. "I really am sorry," he says on exhale, after a long, fraught moment. "I really do believe you're wonderful people who wouldn't deliberately bring harm to Louis. I just get these bad feelings sometimes, and I've been getting them more since you've all been… hanging out." He turns to face Louis. "I'm sorry to you, too, bro, but you do keep waving me off when I bring it up."
"So you thought you'd corner me at this dinner, which I planned to show you how nice they both are," Louis demands.
"Hey," Harry interjects. His expression is cautious, but firm. "It's okay, Louis. If my friend started, you know, a thing with two people the way you have with us, I'd probably want to ask some questions, too." He spreads his hands wide, tries for a joke. "Zayn, my intentions toward your best mate are entirely impure, I'm afraid, but ultimately predicated on his safety."
"Same here," Liam says, reaching out and putting her hand over Louis's. "Except with fewer syllables."
"You know," Louis adds, loudly. "As the expert here on everyone in this room, I think you'd all get along well." He flashes back to how Liam looks when she's kicking one monster in the fucking face while stabbing another through the heart at the same time — which, maybe that shouldn't be part of his personal spank bank, but he's only human — and tries to picture the look on Zayn's face if he saw that. Alarmed, sure. Possibly also impressed? He thinks Niall would definitely get a kick out of it. Petulantly, he adds: "Plus I bought a swiss roll for pudding and you're only getting it if you're nice to each other, Zayn."
"I love swiss roll," Niall says, enthusiastically. She stands up. "I'm getting another beer, anyone want a drink refresher?"
"I'll take one, too," Liam says, gratefully.
They go back to the silence after that, mostly, but this time Louis is grateful for it.
—
"I think we should investigate the wolf thing.”
Louis is sitting at the table when he says it, Harry’s table, while Harry washes an assortment of various pointy-looking things with ornate detailing at the sink. He’s got some special soap, apparently, that he made himself and it’s the only thing that gets demon blood out. Louis doesn’t really care, he just likes the way Harry waggles his hips as he hums to himself. "You’ve got a great bum,” he blurts, which is what gets Harry’s attention.
He’s got a wicked grin on his face when he asks, "Did you say something?”
Louis frowns. "Yes, actually. I said I think we should investigate the wolves. Wolf? The thing. You know.”
Harry’s face turns into one giant frown. Louis doesn’t laugh, but only because he doesn’t want Harry to pout. "I dunno,” Harry says, shrugging. "We’ll need to discuss it with Liam.”
Louis rolls his eyes. "Obviously. But — Don’t you think that’s a good idea?” Louis can’t be wrong about this. The whole point of Harry and Liam is that they figure out why weird shit happens and stop it. Like, that’s their whole thing. They can’t refuse to find out about a wolf, can they?
"It is.” Harry sighs and turns fully toward Louis, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the sink. "We’ll talk to her about it.”
"Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
Harry’s grin returns. "There could always be a ‘butt’ coming, you’ve just got to ask.”
"That was absolutely terrible,” Louis tells him as Harry takes a step toward him. Harry’s smile doesn’t falter though, and he’s right in front of Louis in no time at all. "This is a distraction, you’re distracting me.”
Harry hums and sits in Louis’s lap, and even then Louis has to tilt his head up to look at him. Tall bastard. Louis puts his hands on Harry’s hips, to steady him, because Harry’s a terrible klutz. Everyone knows that.
"I’d be happy to distract you,” Harry says, and leans down to kiss him. Louis forgets to argue.
—
Liam walks in twenty minutes later, home from work early, when Louis’s three fingers deep in Harry and in the middle of sucking a dark mark just above his nipple. Her deep sigh distracts him, but nothing’s more distracting than the way she flips her hair over her shoulder and starts unbuttoning her shirt.
They all end up on the kitchen floor, and Louis is too distracted to bring up the wolf thing again anyway. It’s fine. He’ll ask again eventually.
—
To be fair, Louis considers as he runs through the park, his breath puffing white in front of him in the cold night, suggesting an investigation was probably not a great idea.
"Just had to find out what was going on,” he mumbles, or, sort of half-mumbles and more pants breathlessly as he skids around a tree in an effort to get the giant fucking grey wolf off his arse. "Couldn’t just leave it be.”
He can see Liam’s sneakers glinting in the distance, which, thank god and he’ll never make fun of her love of reflective gear again. He pushes through the burning in his legs and runs straight for her, yelling for help.
There’s no answer before he’s nearly tackled by a golden-white wolf. He throws himself to the ground as it skids in front of him and rolls toward a tree to hide. Because there are two wolves, now. Two wolves that want a Louis-supper: the new great giant gray one, and the pale one in between them.
Well, maybe not, actually. The second wolf, the smaller, golden one (though 'smaller' is entirely fucking relative; it's definitely big enough to eat him, too), has placed itself between him and the first wolf, the one that was chasing him, and they’re sort of just staring at each other and growling.
The dark wolf is new, completely unfamiliar and Louis hadn’t meant to stumble on its nice little cave home or whatever, but he had, which is why he ran. The golden wolf though, he knows it. It’s the same one that saved him from the vampire a few weeks ago. It must be — it has the same uncanny eyes. It jumps at the darker wolf, snarling and snapping which is probably typical wolf behavior, if Louis could guess (which he can’t because he’s obviously not a fuckng wolf expert), but he doesn’t understand why this thing keeps trying to help him. And it is helping him, because this is the second time he’s met it and he’s not tried to eat him or attack him or anything. It’s literally fighting off the other one. What the fuck is going on?
A hand grabs his shoulder and he lashes out before thinking, but it’s only Liam, looking at him with her hair askew in the ponytail and dirt smudged on her face. "You alright?” she asks. Louis doesn’t even want to know what he looks like. Something wet and coppery-smelling hit his forehead a few minutes ago and he's still scared to wipe it off and confirm that it's someone's — something's — blood.
He nods. "Yeah. Dunno about them, though.” He gestures to the wolves, which have started charging each other and backing off again, like they’re trying to claim territory.
Liam grimaces at them, and stands. "I know one way to stop them, but I don’t want to have to do it,” she says, reaching to the back of her waistband and pulling out a revolver.
"Jesus fuck.” Louis’s eyes widen. "What the fuck is that? Where did you get it?”
Liam shrugs as she digs around in her pocket, eventually coming up with a handful of small, silver bullets. Of course. The only way to stop a werewolf. Except Louis doesn’t fancy the idea of her shooting a werewolf, firstly because they don’t actually know if it’ll work, and secondly because, well, a werewolf is a person, right? Liam can’t kill a person. Louis can’t let that happen.
"I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, but Liam ignores him and steps into the clearing, yelling to get the wolves’s attention. They stop their growling and look at her, and Louis catches sight of the golden wolf’s eyes again. They’re blue, bright blue, just like —
"Niall?” He stands quickly, nearly braining himself on the tree. He walks toward the wolf and it backs away. "Niall,” he says, feeling ridiculous. But, like, it’s her. He knows it’s her. Ever since her reaction at dinner, he thinks, a part of him has known it to be her. "Niall, show me.”
Liam steps forward, hand outstretched and telling Louis to step back as the wolf sits. Louis doesn’t move and the wolf turns into Niall — a very, very naked Niall — with a series of disgusting cracks and limbs bending in ways they shouldn’t. Louis stares. Niall, looking furious, stares back and finally stands to start yelling. "What did I tell you, Louis? It’s dangerous out there, too dangerous for you to be wandering around with some kind of Slayer wannabe— "
"Hey!” Liam sounds hurt, but Louis can’t form the words to defend her or himself or to say anything at all really. At least he hasn’t fainted.
"I’m —”
He’s interrupted as the other wolf transforms with a similar series of cracks and pops, and by the time Louis has turned around, another very, very naked woman is standing where a wolf used to. This woman is taller than Niall, hair longer and darker, and she’s got an amused sort of twist to her mouth. Louis isn’t really sure what’s funny.
"Well,” she says, and her voice doesn’t sound how Louis expects it to, even though he’s not sure what he expected, exactly. "If it isn’t Niall Horan.”
Niall stills instantly, and for a long, tense moment the two women stare at each other as Louis and Liam stare at them. It’s very, very quiet.
"Ellie,” Niall eventually says, tone clipped. But then, she’s breaking out into a huge smile and crossing the clearing and giving her a hug. Louis is definitely not thinking weird things about his naked best friend — his apparently sexy-when-naked best friend — hugging another beautiful naked woman, absolutely not. Liam pinches his side like she knows anyway, and Louis grabs her hand and squeezes, trying to say this is really fucking weird and I’m glad you’re here and where the fuck is Harry?
"This looks fun,” Harry says, his hand landing on Louis’s lower back. Louis leans into the touch.
"You get lost?” he says, watching Niall shove her nose into Ellie’s neck.
Harry snorts. "Took the long way, didn’t I?” Which means yes, he obviously did. Honestly.
Liam clears her throat, loudly enough that Niall and Ellie hear and turn their attention away from each other. "Sorry to interrupt,” Liam says, not sounding sorry at all. "But do you two...know each other?”
Ellie smiles, and Niall rubs a hand on her neck sheepishly. "Yeah. Ellie actually...she turned me.”
Louis blinks. Niall is a werewolf. He knew that, obviously, but like, he supposes he forgot for a moment and now he remembers again and it’s just a lot. It’s a lot. She’s a werewolf.
"Explains why you’re so grouchy at the full moon,” he says weakly, but Niall gives it to him, rolling her eyes instead of yelling or anything. "Does Zayn know?”
"No,” Niall says so sharply that Louis holds a hand up in defense. She softens. "He doesn’t. I don’t want him to. I didn’t want either of you to know.”
"Well, that’s a bit ruined, I’d imagine,” Harry says, deliberately and obtusely cheerful as anything as always. Louis steps quietly on his foot; now is not the time to try to smooth things over with a smile. "So, if she turned you, why didn’t you recognise her scent?”
"I did,” Niall says, rubbing at her neck again. "Or, I thought I did, but I didn’t want her to —” She looks to Ellie. "Didn’t want you to turn Louis.”
Ellie laughs. "I wouldn’t have,” she says, glancing at Louis out of the corner of her eye. "I would’ve had him for dinner.” Her fangs flash and Louis takes a step back, tightening his hold on Liam’s hand. She growls at Ellie, as if she’s the fucking wolf, and Louis would laugh if it weren’t all so unbelieveable.
"I won’t now,” Ellie says, waving her hand. "Me and the pack will move on. Clearly Niall’s got it under control here.” She smiles at Niall, pushing a bit of hair out of her face. "You’re always welcome to come with us.”
Niall shakes her head. "I don’t need to. I’ve got a pack.”
Ellie raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Harry takes a step forward. "Sorry, but could you tell me why you’re here? Like, did something draw you here?”
She looks at him warily. "If she's trying to be a Slayer, then you'd be her Watcher-figure, I'm assuming," she says, not even waiting for Harry's nod of assent before adding, "Always wanting to know why when you ought to be asking who or how. Just like the rest of your kind.”
Harry takes another step, but she transforms again, back into a wolf, and runs off before he can get a word out. Louis blinks at him, and then at (still very naked) Niall, and Liam. They all blink back.
"Well,” he says. "I guess we’ve got some things to discuss.”
—
"Where the fuck have you been," Zayn demands, from the bench outside their buildings. He's got a half-smoked cigarette in hand and several butts at his feet. "Why don't you answer your phone anymore, Louis, goddamn it."
"I've never answered my phone," Louis points out. He separates from the group — Liam still scratched-up and dirty from pushing through trees and wolf dens and the like and preparing to be a great sexy savior of Louis's, Harry all svelte and spry and menacing in his jeans and t-shirt and giant warm leather jacket, and Niall, who is back in wolf form because all her clothes are back at her flat— and drops down on the bench next to Zayn.
"Yeah, but I told you I had another bad feeling," says Zayn. "And then — I couldn't shake the feeling that something's not right. I needed to make sure you were okay, Louis; I need you to answer your damn phone."
"Everything's fine," Louis insists, carefully covering up the rip in his jeans with one hand. His leg is scratched and bloody beneath it, but it's a shallow scratch, and there's not enough blood to stain his clothes. Reassuringly, he wraps his other arm around Zayn and gives a squeeze, dropping a kiss on Zayn's skinny shoulder through his shirtsleeve. "I'm fine, see? We're all fine." He doesn't promise to pick up his phone, though. As much as he wants Zayn to feel better about it all, he can't help but envision how quickly a vampire would try to kill him if his phone fucking rang in the middle of a stakeout or whatever.
Zayn looks up and takes in everyone else, then jumps, dropping the last little bit of his cigarette directly into his lap. "There is a wolf behind you," he hisses, pitching his voice so that it carries to Harry and Liam. He twists to look directly at Louis, dislodging Louis's arm in the process. "Louis, there are no wolves in Britain."
"This one's an Irish wolf," Louis quips, but Zayn looks confused and even less amused than before, if possible.
"What do you—"
"We should all go inside," Louis says, thinking about Niall shifting, still completely buck naked, now closer to the glow of the street lights and the thrum of human London.
"Yeah," Zayn says, standing and brushing his cigarette off his lap, and leads the way. He gets indignant again, though, when Harry, politely, holds the door open for Niall. "Wait — what —"
Niall's haunches rise and fall a little, her big blue eyes wide and staring at Zayn. Louis can't tell yet if that's a shrug or a sigh. Her flesh ripples and her hind legs lengthen. There's the same series of cracks as before, and horrifying angles, and front legs twisting into arms, claws receding and paws stretching out into hands. Her back is the last to shift save for her face, and she rolls and cracks it and then it's suddenly human, fur pelt quickly receding beneath her skin.
By the time she's standing up straight, she's entirely herself. "Fucking hate doing that," she says, twisting a little to crack her back again, not even bothering to cover her nakedness from Liam's and Harry's and Louis's and Zayn's gazes. She reaches up and fluffs her hair back. "Hi, Zed."
Zayn blinks at her, and blinks again, and then closes his eyes for a much longer moment, rubbing them like he's a bloody cartoon character. "Niall?" he asks, faintly, once he's opened them again and she's still stood there, naked as the morning dew, dirt on her feet from where she was running bare-pawed through the parks of London.
"We kind of," Harry interrupts, but he pauses and clears his throat at the look both Niall and Zayn throw at him — startled, interrupted, reproachful. "Were thinking we should all talk. For real this time."
"First I was thinking I could get one of your vests and some basketball shorts or something," Niall says, looking at Zayn. "Don't have much call for clothes when I'm wearing fur, you see."
"Right," says Zayn. He looks uncertainly at Niall for a long moment. "I'll go grab some for you, then. Wait here."
Niall doesn't point out that they're in the middle of the foyer of their apartment building, and that it's not limited to just them, but she does glance around a little, uncomfortably, once Zayn has gone.
Liam is the first one to spring into action. She walks over, tentatively, and tucks Niall under her arm, shielding the bulk of her nakedness from Harry and Louis and anyone else who might wander in with a hug, pressing her half against the wall. Niall tenses at first, which — Liam's the Slayer, so it makes sense — but she settles into Liam's warm embrace soon enough.
Louis can relate to that.
Zayn comes back pretty quickly with shorts and a vest in hand, and Niall pulls them on even more quickly. "So," she says.
"So," Harry says, and they all stare at each other a little while longer.
Louis is starting to feel small standing there, vulnerable in a way he can't quite figure out. He lingers at the doorway to his flat, uncertain whether he should gesture Zayn and Niall in and the rest after them — there is, after all, a lot to unpack — until Harry says, carefully, "Maybe we should all… sit down and talk it over tonight, then?"
No one refuses the suggestion, and so Harry opens the door to his flat and ushers them all inside.
"You okay?" Niall whispers to Zayn as they shuffle in. He shrugs, and she pulls her arm back, bitten.
Louis doesn't blame Zayn, precisely. Zayn did watch Niall shift from a giant beast of a wolf down into her slight human form — skinny, small breasts, bitten fingernails — in front of his very eyes. It threw Louis, too, and he's had the benefit of weeks of confronting supernatural phenomena.
He hadn't even known werewolves could control their shifts like that, particularly during a full moon. From the shell-shocked look on Liam's and Harry's faces, they hadn't, either.
Harry gestures for everyone to sit, and they do, silently, staring at each other but not quite making any eye contact. When Harry's cat comes into the room and winds her way around Louis's feet until she spots Niall, hisses, and darts back toward the loo, Louis shivers. He shakes himself again, then, on purpose, trying to shake off all his weird feelings, and claps his hands. "Right," he says. "I'd offer a tea, but I think we could all use something a bit stronger. Anyone want one of Styles's weird-ass beers?"
"Yes," Niall says, emphatically, so Louis stands up again and goes off to Harry's kitchen to grab whatever fruity ale he's got in there this time.
Harry follows him. "Are you okay?" he asks, as Louis debates juggling five individual bottles or just bringing the entire six-pack and having one leftover bottle for whoever needs it most. "You've got a bit of —" he gestures, indicating the blood Louis is fair certain is still on his forehead.
"It's not mine," Louis says, but he lets Harry dampen a kitchen towel and wipe it away, soft and careful. It doesn't hurt him physically, but emotionally, he's gutted at the care that Harry takes to press just enough to wipe away the gore, but not so hard as to risk hurting Louis.
Louis reaches up before he can help himself, putting one hand over Harry's. Harry pauses, looking at him quizzically, and Louis leans up for a kiss.
Harry leans in immediately, his mouth a slick slide over Louis's. He parts his lips, but doesn't lick through them into Louis's mouth.
Still, it goes a long fucking way toward making Louis feel more human. He blinks, sighs a little, and squeezes Harry's hand before grabbing the whole fucking six-pack. "I'm ready," he tells Harry. "I think."
"Whatever happens," Harry tells him. "I don't think it will be bad. Just — important, maybe."
"Right," Louis says, because Harry's likely not wrong, and he smiles up at Harry, a proper, twinkly-eyed grin that draws a grin from Harry in turn.
Louis feels a little better, walking into that quiet room. He hands out the beers, putting the sixpack and the lingering bottle on the coffee table, and sits down on the couch, tucked up next to Liam. Harry sits back on his armchair, but he smiles reassuringly at everyone — Zayn and Niall included. "So," he says.
"Nialler's a werewolf," Louis interrupts. "Bit surprising, mate, if I'm honest."
"Don't stereotype," Niall says, but her voice quavers a little as she says it. "Werewolves don't all act the same way."
"Clearly not," Louis says. "Suppose I've got you to thank for saving my life the other night. And tonight."
"You're welcome," Niall says. "Why it was necessary, though, I haven't the f —"
"I'm the Slayer," Liam interrupts, and when Niall turns to stare at her, her cheeks go a marvelously lovely shade of pink. "Not, um. Not just a Slayer wannabe, like you said earlier. An actual empowered Slayer. So."
"That'll do it, then," says Niall, very respectfully indeed. "Uh, you're not going to — slay me, right?"
"Only if you start murdering a lot of people," Liam says, and Louis forces a laugh along with everyone else even though he's not entirely sure that she's joking.
"So that's you and me sorted," Niall says, still eyeing Harry warily. "Harry? I'm like, 98% sure I already know, but. I need to hear you say it."
"I'm her Watcher," Harry says. "Louis is —"
"Nothing special, same old me!" Louis says, brightly. "I'm only in it for the sex."
He's not, but he's pretty sure that now isn't the time to get into how he feels when he's alternately helping out and getting fully in the way. How at first it was curiosity and intrigue, but more and more it feels necessary to be there and watch Liam fight and Harry help out with blows here and spells there. He probably couldn't save them, when push came to shove, if the situation called for it, but he could be there with them. If something happens to them, it can happen to him, too. That's beginning to feel just as important as the sex and adrenaline of it all.
"So that leaves Zayn," Liam says, after exchanging a very long and penetrating look with Harry.
"I'm nothing special either," Zayn says.
"Don't sell yourself short; of course you're special," says Niall, fiercely. "You're special to me, at least."
Zayn looks over at her in surprise, a hint of a smile overtaking his features. "I just get feelings," he elaborates. "I have dreams sometimes. Sometimes when Louis went out with you guys, I got this sense that something bad was going to happen."
"Really," says Harry, leaning forward in his seat. He props his chin up with the back of his hand, elbow balanced on the arm of his chair. It's clear he's trying to look inquisitive, but triumph at pegging the situation right is spreading over his features too quickly for him to rein it in. "Are these feelings — would you call it more foreboding or premonitory?"
Zayn gives him a Look. "I hadn't really thought that deeply about it," he says, which, if Louis knows Zayn as well as he thinks he does, is a bold-face lie.
"Anyway, are they recent or have you always had them?"
"Since puberty," Zayn allows.
Niall and Louis both look at him in shock. "And you didn't say anything?" Niall demands, looking so very askance that it's abundantly clear that this is not what she'd had in mind, when she brought up how special Zayn was.
"You didn't tell us that you're a werewolf!"
"Fair point," Niall says, leaning back in her chair. She keeps looking at Zayn, though, unwavering and intent.
"Don't think the beer is helping much," Louis says. He's starting to feel small again, and not in a good way. He's glad that they all know the truth about everything now, but he just wants to curl up in Harry's giant bed, pressed naked against Harry's back, or Liam's. He wants to kiss them, and watch them kiss each other, and fall asleep. "If I'm honest. Which I am; we all are now."
"Well," says Zayn, casting another glance over at Niall. "There is one more thing."
—-
"I can't believe Zayn and Niall have been fucking for weeks," Louis says from his space on Harry's bed, for probably the thirtieth time that hour. His head is firmly in his hands. He didn't even get up off Harry's couch to hug Zayn and Niall goodnight when they went back to Zayn's room in his own flat. "I thought he was still pining! He kept it secret for so long!"
"To be fair, mate, you did keep — part of us — secret for a while, too," Liam points out.
"I'm not interested in your logic, Liam Payne," says Louis. "Not one bit. Plus, I told Zayn the very first day we all slept together."
"Cheers for that," Harry says, but he's smiling so Louis figures that he's in the clear.
"Are you… okay?" Liam asks, as she strips off her sports bra and lets it fall to the floor. She catches sight of Harry's expression, and leans over to move it to the hamper, breasts swinging as she does.
Louis's mouth goes dry. "I am now," he says, staring at her - quite obviously, but he's not embarrassed about it.
"I mean, you went all quiet for a bit earlier. And then you went very, very loud again."
"I'm a loud person," says Louis. His mouth is still dry, but it's not just about the way that Liam's nipples are dark and delicious against the creamy flesh of her tits now. "That's all."
"Oh, Lou," Liam says, and she goes over and pulls him into a big hug, said tits pressing — magnificently — against his chest. "Today was a lot, huh?"
"I guess," Louis allows, and he distracts the both of them by capturing her mouth in a kiss.
Harry comes in, wrapping the both of them up in a wide-armed embrace. He nuzzles in against Liam's neck, obviously seeking comfort first, but as Louis licks his way into Liam's mouth, he can feel her gasp from the way that Harry's started nibbling her neck — likely the sharp little bites that Louis is, by now, so wonderfully familiar with.
"I like you very much," Harry says, drawing away eventually and exchanging an apologetic look with Liam as he does. His mouth is shiny with spit and use, and it's incredibly distracting. "Liam, too. But we're still getting to know you, Louis, so tell me: do you need to be pushed to talk right now, or is a distraction good for you?"
Louis's heart feels too big to be confined by his ribcage. "I'm okay," he promises. "It really is just another thing to get used to, right?"
Harry looks impossibly sad at that. "I mean —"
"I didn't say that's bad," says Louis, hurriedly. "You know me, I throw myself all-in once I've wrapped me head around something."
"I have got that impression, yeah," Liam says. The look that she gives Louis is loaded, heated, and Louis's mind flashes back to the feeling of his urine, warm and so, so wet, pooling in his lap while Liam was pressed flush against it. He shivers, arousal settling in low at the base of his spine, and winks at her, and wonders what it would look like, to see Liam pressed all up against Harry like that, Harry desperately canting his hips up as she settles low on them, gasping when the swell of his dick catches against her clit. Louis has seen it before, obviously; but not — not as just a bystander. He thinks, maybe, being able to watch his greatest fantasies unfold but not feeling the pressure to actively engage in them may actually be just the ticket after the kind of day he's had.
"Could wrap me head around watching the two of you go at it," he tells them, smiling crookedly at the way Harry's hand is resting on the curve of Liam's neck, picturing Harry's thumb digging into the lovebite Louis'd left on her collarbone the night before.
Liam pauses. The tips of her hair brush against her breasts, and Louis's mouth waters. He wants to touch — but knowing he's potentially taken himself out of the equation, for now, removed but still involved by virtue of being present… it's not generally his style, but right now, the thought sends a flare of that arousal through him.
"I'm fine with that," Liam says, cautiously, glancing over at Harry, who nods. "As long as you strip down, too. Or else I'm putting my top back on; I feel very underdressed compared to you two."
"Never that!" Harry says, dramatically, and puts his hands over Liam's tits, cupping them so her breasts rest heavy in his palms.
"You're insufferable," Liam tells him, in a way that sounds very much like she means I love you. Pulling away, she adds, "I'll just be off to the toilet, then. When I come back, you both best be ready."
"Aye aye, captain," says Louis, saluting her.
Both he and Harry take a moment to watch Liam walk away, because it's a lovely sight that deserves to be treated reverently.
"Hey," Harry says, once she's gone. "I know you don't want to — engage, right now, but. Do you want a kiss?"
"Always," Louis tells him, and lets Harry lick into his mouth, reaching down as he does so to undo the snap on Louis's jeans and pull the zipper down.
"'Mnot trying to make you do anything you don't want," Harry murmurs. It's hard to make out the words, because he doesn't break the kiss to speak, but Louis pieces it together. "Just doing what the lady requested."
"You, too," Louis mumbles back. He tugs Harry's lower lip between his teeth and nibbles, pulling up on Harry's plain white t-shirt until he'd have to break the kiss to move it any further.
Harry grins as he makes the executive decision to pull back. "I like you so much," he confesses, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it in the direction of his hamper before starting to undo his jeans. "I'm glad you decided to insert yourself into our lives."
"Thanks," Louis says. He shimmies out of his jeans, pushing his underwear down with them, sighing at the flush of cool air on his cock as it springs free of its confines. God. He's going to watch Harry fuck Liam and touch himself. This is so far beyond any of his wildest dreams. He allows: "Me too."
They make quick work of the rest of their clothes and sit on opposite sides of Harry's bed. Harry, respectfully, doesn't approach Louis again once they're naked, though he does levy a hot, heavy sort of significant glance at where Louis's cock is standing, proud and mostly hard, between his legs. And then, as Louis watches, Harry lies back on the bed, head cradled back in one arm, the other extended across the expanse of the mattress, his fingertips just brushing against Louis's knee. He grins and reaches further so that he can squeeze Louis's leg properly; Louis grabs Harry's hand and holds it tight in his own.
Harry blows him a kiss, eyes crinkling at the corners, even as he reaches down and cups his hard cock with his free hand. It jumps a little at the touch, and he grips the base. "You're so gorgeous," he says.
"You are, too," says Louis. He's hard just from the anticipation of it all, at how Liam is walking in from the bathroom now, stark naked and with her hair all down and soft around her face. She's gorgeous, is the thing, lithe yet firmly muscled from her Slaying, and she walks with a fluidity and grace that's truly striking to behold.
Also, her bum jiggles when she walks. Louis can't see it from here, which is a true fucking travesty, but he knows what it looks like and he can picture it perfectly. He squeezes Harry's hand again, tighter.
Harry squeezes back, like he knows what Louis is thinking, and then Liam is straddling Harry nudging up further and further until she's positioned right over his cock.
Harry stares up at her, mouth gaping open, blinking slowly. "You — you're so wet," he marvels. "I haven't even —"
"Touched myself a little in the loo," Liam admits, ducking her head a little so that her hair swings in front of her face and hides her smirk. She rolls her hips against his, the muscles in her thighs flexing with the effort. She's got a bruise forming just above her knee, on the outside of her leg, from the fight earlier — deeply purple, about the size of Louis's balled-up fist — but she acts like it isn't even there as she rises up on her haunches and leans in to kiss Harry deeply.
Her hair falls in the line of Louis's sight, and for several terrible moments, he can't watch the way their mouths work as they both bite into the kiss. But then Harry's reaching up with his big broad hand and tucking Liam's hair out of the way, pushing it over her back so that Louis can see the lines of their jaws, the way that Harry is craning his neck up to meet Liam in the kiss, the way that Liam's breasts, top-heavy as they are, are swaying gently as she rocks minutely back and forth.
"Wanna be inside," Harry mumbles, tracing his hand down Liam's spine, giving little scritch-scratches with his fingertips until she shudders under the touch, whole body clenching and spasming with a sensation Louis is also intimately familiar with. He cups his dick with one hand, holding it gently but not touching it properly, as he watches Harry move on to grip Liam's hip tight in one hand.
"Want you inside," Liam admits. Her voice is quiet, but Louis still hears it clearly. He grips the base of his dick more firmly, letting his other hand drift up to pinch at his own nipples. "Lou, do you think Harry deserves to be inside me?"
It takes Louis a moment to find his voice. "Think he's been pretty good today," he says, finally. Harry keeps angling his body ever-so-slightly, pressing the side of him that's closer to Louis more firmly into the bed, holding Liam further aloft than Louis suspects he would do if it was just the two of them there, so Louis can see.
He still can't see much, of course, beyond the way that Liam's nipples are tight and hard, standing erect at the tips of her breasts, but what he lacks in physical vision he can more than make up for with imagination: the way Liam, slick with arousal, is leaving a glistening smear of her wet on the base of Harry's cock.
"Then that's that," Liam says, satisfied, and she rises up, gripping Harry's dick in one hand. She hovers longer than Louis knows her to generally do, long enough that Louis can see the knob of Harry's cock, dark dusky red against Liam's fingers, little pearls of precome gathered at the tip. She spreads the precome over the head of his dick with her thumb, then carefully lines herself up, guiding his cock inside of her as she lowers down onto it, inexorably slowly.
The pace Liam says is excruciating, low, long drags of Harry's dick inside her. Louis thumbs over the head of his cock, smearing precome over the tip, as he watches the way Harry's face screws up, mouth hanging open with a silent sort of shout, interspersed with high-pitched groans and short, guttural exclamations as Liam swivels her hips, risen almost all the way off Harry's cock and lowers back down, slow as you please.
"Is she clenching around you?" Louis asks, when Harry lets out a particularly loud burst of a breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight and biting hard enough into his lip to draw blood. "Harry. Is she?"
"I am," Liam says, grinning. She's clearly out of breath, sweat beading down her back and on her chest, dripping down faster than the rolls of her hips. The pace she's setting and the way she's holding herself are both a testament to her athleticism, the strength it takes to drive a stake through the heart of a humanoid vampire bent half over her back and come up swinging. She's only using one hand to prop herself up as she moves, planted right to the side of Harry's neck. With her other, she's dragging her nails down Harry's chest, hard enough to leave raised red lines in her wake.
"God," Louis breathes, reverently. He allows himself to start jerking off, trying to match Liam's pace stroke for stroke. It's so much slower than he likes; she's a wanton tease and he adores her.
"Sure you don't want to join us?" Liam asks. It's not a loaded question; her tone is purely matter-of fact. "Could finger my clit, if you wanted."
Louis does want, but he likes just watching them, too. This, he thinks, is an important moment: seeing how beautiful their bodies are as they move together, reminding himself that he can be with them, and they want him, but it can be on his own terms — that if he wants, he can just watch them and not have to be actively involved.
Also, there's something incredibly titillating about imagining everything that he can't actively see or feel. He can tighten his hand over his own dick, dragging precome over the shaft, and squeeze when he imagines Liam must be squeezing around Harry. It's like one of them vibrators from a distance things he's seen ads for lately. It's not something he'd ever thought he'd be into, but that's Liam and Harry in a nutshell: introducing him to new and varied things that he loves.
"Haz, did Liam tell you about the time she made me piss myself in your training room?" he asks, and grins to himself when Harry closes his mouth, throat working as he swallows, hard, at the thought. "Wouldn't let me pee, just pressed down on me bladder till I was even wetter than she gets, and then she fucked me."
"That was - a great day," Liam says, with a lazy sort of smile, a hitch in her breath as she speaks and the way her eyes are heavy-lidded, more and more sweat gathering at the swell of her breasts belying how affected she truly is. She twists her hips and picks up the pace, but only a little. "So dirty for me, Lou. So gorgeous."
"Why don't you ever let me wee on you," Harry manages with a pout. He's got his eyes open again, and his pupils are blown wide. HIs hand is still on Liam's hip, fingers digging deep into the meat of it.
"You've never asked," Liam says, delighted. "Maybe you and Lou can both get desperate and have some fun together."
"You, too," Louis says. He wants to kiss, but he also wants to see it through, being separate but still with them while they make beautiful love together. He bites his lips instead. "God. You're both so - so gorgeous."
"Takes one to know one," Harry says. He brings his other hand up to Liam's other hip. "Babe, can you — I'm so —"
"Faster?" Liam asks, and she leans down, hair falling in sheets again, and captures his mouth in a noisy kiss. She rolls her hips against his slightly more rapidly, though. The undulation of her body from tit to thigh mesmerises Louis, and he gives his cock a good, strong stroke, pulling the foreskin down and rubbing more of his precome into the tip of it.
"Liam could wee on both of us," he says, and then: "I know uric acid doesn't kill demons, but maybe they'd still be repelled if we walked around like that?"
Harry lets out a bark of laughter that gets swallowed by a particularly loud groan when Liam reaches up and tugs on his hair, rising up high and sinking down low so fast that Louis's dick jumps in his hand at the sight.
"You're a menace," Liam tells Louis, glancing over long enough for him to see the glint in her eyes. She refocuses on Harry, using the hand she's got cupped around his head to guide him until he's half-sitting and able to get his mouth on her breast, tongue sliding wide and wet over her nipple before he draws it into her mouth.
She arches into him, abandoning the long, slow push-pull movement she's been largely sticking to and starting up staccato thrusts, short and quick and to the point. She gives a little high gasp whenever Harry's fully inside of her, the angle they're at allowing for the base of his cock to bump against her clit — not enough to get her off, Louis knows from experience, but enough to drive her fucking wild.
"You're a miracle," he tells her, and forces himself to grip the base of his cock until Harry thrusts up into Liam, hips jerking high and hard enough for him to have them both half-raised off the bed as he spills into her, hands digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
Liam lets out a high-pitched, desperate little whine as Harry spills into her. "Fuck, Haz, I can — I can feel you," she says, bearing down on him, hips shifting minutely despite herself, like she's trying to get more friction against her clit to bring her over the edge.
Louis wants to be the one to give that to her. The knowledge of that fact dawns on him slowly at first, but his need to get his hands and his tongue on her quickly becomes overwhelming. "I want to feel, too," he says, forcibly letting his cock go so that he can sway up onto his hips and shuffle-walk on them till he can touch Liam's side and feel the heat emanating from under her skin.
She half-twists to look at him. "Are you sure?" she asks, seriously, looking him straight in the eye. Her pupils are blown with the sex she and Harry have just engaged in, but her gaze is unwavering until Louis nods, emphatically.
"I am," he says. "I just — I want to feel Harry's come in you."
"Yes, please," Harry says, breathlessly, from below them. He pauses a moment, then says, "Louis, do you want to be touched or do you just want to touch?"
"Yeah, how do you want me?" Liam asks. She's slowly rising up off Harry's cock now; there's a slick little sound as his spent dick pulls free and falls against his stomach, and she pats it consolingly — adorably — as she swings an unsteady leg over his body so that she's no longer straddling him.
"Lie down," Louis says. "Want to get my mouth on you."
Liam grins at him, twisting around so that she's lying down, top-to-tail, next to Harry. "Want you to," she tells him, tugging her hair back so that it's puddled around her head as she settles in position, legs crooked at the knee and feet firmly planted, wide, on the bed.
Louis lets himself run his hands over her inner thighs, calloused thumbs dragging against her skin. Her cunt is glistening with her slick and Harry's come, dark pink and so, so wet. He can see where Harry's big cock stretched her wide, and when he reaches out to touch and pushes two fingers roughly inside of her, he can feel where Harry's left his thick load. He drags his fingers through it, and a little bit spills out as he pulls them free and sticks them in his mouth.
"You two taste good together," he mumbles, dragging his fingers free and using them — wet now from his spit instead of Harry and Liam's mingled arousal — to draw tight, damp little circles around Liam's clit, never quite touching it directly.
"I want to touch you," Harry says. He's pulled himself up so that he's half-sitting, better able to see the way that Louis is touching Liam. "If you're okay with it. While you're eating me out of her."
Louis considers it for half a second. "My cock is at your disposal, if you can reach it," he says, because it's so, so hard, and he wants to jerk himself off, spill over the outside of Liam's cunt so that he can lick himself off and Harry out of her at the same time, but he wants to get his mouth on her more and he doesn't want to take any hands away from her pleasure to suit his own, not right now.
Harry pushes forward into Louis's personal space and presses a kiss to his jaw. "Cheers, Tommo," he says, voice rumbling low in his ear. "Get settled and I'll get started."
So Louis wiggles back a little and then leans down, so that his knees are folded under him. It's a great vantage point, actually, really gives him an excellent angle. He fucks his fingers inside of her one more time, pushing three in together and twisting them around, dragging her and Harry's commingled slick out and up, rubbing it all over her clit.
"Making a mess?" she asks him, archly, but her voice is rich with arousal, so he just smirks.
"I always like to play with my food," he says, and dives in.
He fucks her with his tongue first, pushing it as deep as it can go, steadily and rhythmic. Harry's jizz is thicker than Louis's, a mass of it still inside Liam despite Louis's fingering, and he chases after the musky taste as best he can, gripping her thighs tight in each hand now, holding her legs just far enough open that he can strain to capture every last drop of Harry onto his tongue.
That's when he feels Harry's work his hand underneath him and grip his cock loosely. "Can't move much from this angle," Harry tells him, but he strokes his fingers around the head of Louis's cock with these little tantalizing swipes. He rustles around a little before lying down next to Louis, nudging him a little higher up on his knees so that he can get a better angle and start to jerk Louis off in earnest. He adds, "If I hadn't just come inside Liam for you, I'd want to fuck your thighs right now."
God. Louis wants Harry to fuck his thighs now, too. His dick twitches in Harry's hand, and the way that Harry tightens his grip in response sends shivers through Louis's entire body.
When he can't reach any more of Harry's come deep inside Liam, he pulls back a little, releases one of her thighs, and pushes his index and pointer fingers back inside, crooking them in the way he knows Liam likes. She lets out a high-pitched moan, so he twists his hand in deeper, working his ring finger inside, too.
Liam shifts her hips against Louis's hand, desperately. "I need —" she says, reaching down and grasping, erratically, at Louis's head. She catches hold of his hair and tugs, gently but firmly, until Louis nods and licks around the base of his fingers, collecting the moisture gathering there. He then works his way up, licking through her folds, tasting every variation of her musk until his tongue catches on the little hood over her clit. He lays the flat of his tongue against it and then, as Harry slips his thumb over Louis's slit, pressing down ever-so-slightly, Louis licks up to the point of his tongue and, funneling it into a stiff little peak, thrums it over her clit in a steady little beat.
When Liam rolls her hips up against Louis's face, leaving him shoved nose-deep into her curls, he finds his mouth pressed up around her clit enough that he can purse his lips and suck on it, drawing the coppery tang of skin that's had a lot of blood suddenly brought to the surface. He's learned that this, more than any other act, brings Liam immediately to the edge.
And that's when he carefully works his pinky finger inside of her too, all fingers gathered into a tight little bundle pressed as deep inside of her as he can get them. That's when he grazes her clit, as gently as he can, with the edge of his tooth.
Liam shouts then, thighs tightening around his head, and there's another rush of wet around his fingers. Louis works his hand out carefully, immediately replacing it with his tongue so he can capture that little bit more.
His own orgasm comes almost as an afterthought. Harry twists his fist around the tip of Louis's cock right as Louis gets a particularly heady taste of Liam, the grip of her thighs slowly releasing, and then he's coming into Harry's hand, hips stuttering enough that he has to pull - regretfully - free of Liam's cunt to keep from jostling her too much.
"Tasty," Harry says, a few moments later, and Louis realises that he's licking his hand clean.
"Give me some," says Liam, and as Louis rocks back and collapses onto his side, one hand still resting right on the little thatch of damp curls just above Liam's cunt, pinky still slipped partway between her folds.
When he manages to blink enough that his vision is no longer bleary with his orgasm, coupled with the warmth and damp of eating Liam out, he sees that Harry is kissing Liam extremely deeply, cupping the side of her jaw to hold her face steady.
When they notice that Louis is watching, chest still heaving with all the exertion, Harry pulls free and leans in to kiss Louis, too, immediately licking into Louis's mouth.
"I can't taste my own come," Harry says, sadly, once they've come up for air. "But Liam, you're lovely on Louis's mouth."
"Cheers," Liam says. She stretches out, back popping as she does, and then sits up. "I think."
"It was a compliment," Harry assures her, dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. He reaches over and strokes Louis's arm. "You doing better, babe?"
"Yeah," says Louis, hoarsely. He's not surprised to find that it's true, and a surge of gratitude toward these two people rushes through him. He puts his hand on Harry's and squeezes his thanks. "Ready to brush me teeth and sleep, I think."
He checks his phone right after Liam reaches up to flip the lights off. maybe u've never heard us fuck cuz you lot are always so fucking LOUD, Zayn has texted. Louis snorts, and flicks his phone screen dark, and curls up around Harry, hand meeting Liam's on Harry's hip.
—-
"Don't wanna go to work," Louis complains. He'd been out late the previous night with Harry whilst Liam was off after some intel on a new horrifying apocalypse prophecy with a Slayer from Brighton, casing one of the neverending cemeteries in greater London, and he's still sore as fuck from the fight he'd got into with a vamp he ultimately managed to stake.
"How else will you get rich and buy me shiny things?" Harry asks, looking over the rims of his reading glasses at Louis.
"You don't even need glasses, and you've got a job of your own, haven't you?" Louis says, reaching over and flicking Harry on the nose.
"Just because the Watcher's council got firmly and rapidly re-established after Buffy the Sunnydale Slayer bequeathed her power unto all potential Slayers doesn't mean the stipend allows for nice clothes," Harry sniffs.
"Aye, just a lot of dusty old books and sharp axes," Louis says, with a tone of utter commiseration so melodramatic that it's clear he's mocking Harry. Nicely. Nice mocking.
"Those are a work expense write-off," Harry says.
"And I'm assuming fashion can't be categorised under 'blinding to demons and therefore essential?'"
"I tried so hard," says Harry, plaintively. For all his banter, though, he keeps glancing, worried, at his phone. Liam still isn't back from her little trip.
"Got it," says Louis. "Piss and million-pound shirts: not effective weapons against the armies of darkness." He pauses. "What if you combined the two?"
"Do not pee on my favourite shirt," Harry says. "That's a hard limit of mine."
Louis swoops in for a kiss. "You'll text me when Liam gets home, yeah?" he asks.
"If she doesn't text the both of us soon as she's clear," Harry assures him. He looks a little less nervous after Louis frames his face in both hands and gives him a second, lingering, kiss.
"Hey," Louis says, running his thumb over Harry's lower lip and watching it drag down. He doesn't have time to start anything — he really does have to get to work — but Harry's lips are so pretty, pink and wet and pouting at how Louis is half-dressed after the extremely frantic shower sex they had to celebrate their successful-yet-filthy slaying and subsequent few hours of naked sleep-cuddling.
Harry bites at Louis's thumb, not without intent, and Louis's heart and dick both shiver with it. He looks Harry straight in the eye, silent, for several very long moments before pulling away and looking for something to wear.
"Should start bringing some of me work clothes over from my glorified closet of a bedroom," he comments, looking through the pile of vaguely-athleisure clothes he's dumped in Harry's hamper after hunts all week.
"You and Liam and your glorified closets of a bedroom at your glorified storage centers of personal apartments," Harry sighs, dramatically. He's still buck naked, save for his fake-ass poser glasses. Louis is of a mind that he should stay that way. "You can borrow some of my things."
"I'd be positively swimming in your clothes," he points out.
Harry just shrugs, looking well pleased with himself for the suggestion. "I don't mind."
"You wouldn't," Louis says, and forces himself to roll his eyes instead of going for another kiss. He really is running incredibly late. "Fine, though."
Harry gets out of bed, and Louis allows himself to watch the way that the muscles in Harry's smallish-but-shapely butt flex as he walks, steps loose and unhurried, around the room, poking into his closet and coming back with a pretty decent set of trousers and a button-down shirt.
The shirt, as it turns out, is a lot tighter than Louis usually wears. "Why do you have this?" he demands of Harry, looking down at how it clings to every inch of his torso. "You'd rip it in half, great muscley Watcher that you are."
"It's old," Harry says, with an impish grin. He straightens Louis's collar and then pats him on the shoulder. "Great look on you, though. You can keep it."
"So considerate," says Louis. He rolls his eyes again, but he also covers Harry's hand on his shoulder with his own and squeezes.
They stand like that for another moment before Harry leans in and brushes a kiss against his cheek. "If you don't leave soon, I'll take these clothes right back off and you'll never make it to work," he warns.
"Fine," says Louis, and goes to rummage through Harry's apartment to find all his things and shove them in his satchel. He stops briefly in the bathroom to splash water on his face and borrow Harry's toothbrush — and, as always, try to open that weird box on the shelf, to no avail — and heads for the door.
Harry meets him there. "Fixed you up a lunch," he says, handing Louis a little brown bag.
Louis peeks inside. It's just a tupperware of leftovers and another of carrot sticks, but it's just enough to get him through the day, particularly when Harry also hands over a thermos of tea and a cereal bar. "You know I'm never gonna touch these vegetables," he tells Harry.
"Oh, I figured," says Harry. "But I thought I'd keep trying."
Something flutters around Louis's heart, swooping down to his stomach and back up again. He feels warm all over. "Well, this is disgustingly domestic," he says, and pats Harry's cheek. "See you and Liam this evening?"
"I've got some errands to run — you know, crossbows to buy and axes to sharpen — but I'll be back by six," Harry promises. "Now go."
Louis, who is only human, gives Harry's naked dick a quick, wicked grab before he skedaddles out the door.
—-
"Cute lunch bag," New Guy Ed the Singing Barrister says as he walks into the break room. "Your girlfriend give it to you?"
Louis looks down at it. He supposes Harry did scribble all over one side of it with a silver pen — little doodled hearts and stakes piercing through them. "Not my girlfriend," he says, distracted by the rush of fondness that crashes over him at sight of the drawings.
"Well, who else would draw a bunch of hearts with arrows in 'em?" Ed laughs. "Your mom?"
"My boyfriend, actually," says Louis, even though they've never actually established labels like that between the three of them. Slayfriends? Sexy slayfriends? Whatever. He's feeling very defensive of Harry's artwork, defensive enough to take a loud, supportive bite out of one of the horrible carrot sticks.
"Oh, sorry mate, didn't peg you for, uh, you know."
Louis forces a smile. "No worries," he says, cheerfully. "Happy days. Is there something I can do for you, Mr Sheeran?"
"Please, you know I prefer to think of us as equals," says Ed. "You've got the power here, really, mate. I'm just the new guy."
I'm just the admin assistant, Louis doesn't say. "Well, then, you're definitely not getting any of these carrot sticks off me," he jokes, biting miserably into another one.
"Damn it," Ed says. He pulls a chair up to the table and straddles it backwards, resting his arm on the back and leaning forward. "There go all of my plans foiled."
"Sorry to disappoint," says Louis.
"Hey, so actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about," Ed says. "I'm thinking of like, trying to put on a little show for some friends and their mates in a few weeks. Can I count on you to come?"
Ed has spent the few weeks he's been at the company talking ceaselessly about music, which is his one true passion in life. Louis might as well go. "Sure," he says. "I'm honoured you count me among that number."
"Bring your boyfriend," Ed suggests.
"Could bring all me best mates," Louis offers. If Ed's any good, they'll have a nice time, and if he's not, they can joke about it for ages to come. Actually, that sounds just like what they all need, after all the complicated revelations that have been going on of late. "Put me down for five people."
"Cheers," says Ed. He claps Louis on the shoulder and stands up. "I'm happy to hear this."
"Sure thing," Louis says, and forces himself to eat the rest of the carrot sticks.
—-
Harry's flat is dark and quiet, until Louis hears a sound coming through from behind Harry's closed bedroom door.
He locks the front door behind him, toes off his shoes, and walks back down the hall.
"Honey, I'm home," he calls, pushing the door open with a bang — and freezes. Blinks three times. Says: "Holy fucking shit."
In front of him, Harry is on his knees on the bed, arse up in the air and held firmly in place by Liam's strong, beautiful, capable hands. His face is wedged up against the mattress, head tilted to the side so that he can breathe, arms stretched out in front of him. As Louis walks closer, he can see the white of Harry's knuckles from where he's gripping the edge of the bedspread tight.
Liam is resplendent, kneeling behind him, hair falling every which-way. The bruises from her last fight are fading, hardly even noticeable, and her breasts are bouncing with the ferocity of her movements, nipples dark and standing proudly erect. She's naked but for a harness strapped around her hips, the dark leather cutting a stark line across her skin.
It takes Louis a moment to realise that Liam is fucking into Harry with a large and - from what he can make of it as Liam pulls back, slow and steady, before shoving back into Harry with a groan - glittery pink strap-on dildo.
"Hey babe," she says to Louis, flicking her hair out of her face with a toss of her head. She sounds deceptively casual for the situation. "Fancy joining in?"
Louis doesn’t bother answering, save for a frantic nod. He's already pulling off his shirt and trying to shove his trousers down without undoing his belt at all.
"Take your time," Liam says, fucking into Harry again. Harry’s face screws up even tighter. "I certainly am."
"She is," Harry says, lifting his head slightly off the bed, presumably so Louis can hear better, but his voice is still shot when he speaks. "S’been proper torture — ahh! — she wanted to — " Harry’s head dips as Liam grinds in close. Harry gasps, forcing words out. "Wanted t’make sure you saw."
"Cheers for that," Louis says, feeling dazed. Successfully disrobed, he gives his cock a few good pumps of his hand to encourage it to progress from the half-chub he's already sporting. "Where do you want me, Li?"
"I think Harry should suck your cock," Liam says, still casual. She tightens her grip on Harry's hips and pulls him back on her strap-on, grinning as he lets out a great big grunt. "If you feel so inclined."
Louis nods and stands at the edge of the bed. He’s gentle when he speaks to Harry. "You wanna come up on all fours for me? Or do you wanna lean down?"
"No, I can do this," Harry manages. He pushes himself up on his hands, swaying a little as he grinds back on Liam's dildo, so Louis climbs up on the bed, walking closer on his knees and gripping his dick in one hand until he can guide it, smoothly, into Harry's mouth. The blunt head of Louis's dick presses against his lips, and then he's opening wide and taking Louis down, tongue first.
Louis finds himself face-to-face with Liam, separated only by the long line of Harry's back. This close, he can see the way that her chest is flushed red with exertion, sweat beading on her forehead. "You're beautiful," he tells her, and then the drag of Harry's wicked tongue distracts him from further conversation.
He loses himself in the heat and wet of Harry's mouth, the way that Harry pulls up and then works Louis's foreskin down with his lips as he takes him back down, further and further and further until he's practically choking with it, face red and hair falling down over his forehead. Louis stares down at him, pressing the flat of his hand against Harry's cheek so he can try to feel for his cock, and then slowly moves his hand back so that he can tangle it in Harry's hair and give himself some leverage as he carefully rolls his hips forward and fucks properly into Harry's mouth.
Harry pulls back a little, focusing on working his tongue over Louis's slit and the head of his cock in a way that makes Louis's entire body hum, and then he freezes and immediately works on trying to swallow all of Louis down.
When Louis looks up, Liam winks at him. "It vibrates," she tells Louis, voice a lot more high-pitched now than it was when Louis first walked in. "He loves it."
Louis can hear the mechanical whir over the sounds of their sex, Liam's thighs slapping against Harry's with the sticky-wet pop of sweaty skin slamming together and pulling back apart, Harry moaning around Louis's dick, Louis's own heavy breathing and Liam's quiet little whimpers. "Good girl," he manages, and holds out his free hand for a high-five.
Liam lets go of Harry's hip and leans forward to slap Louis five, both of them pushing into Harry as they do, and he positively yells around Louis's cock as Liam's and Louis's hands meet.
"Fuck," says Liam, and instead of bringing her hand back down to Harry's hip, she threads her fingers through Louis's and squeezes, so tight it almost hurts.
It's that point of connection, and the way that Liam looks when she's sunk her strap-on hilt-deep into Harry, the way Harry is rocking desperately back and forth between Louis and Liam, that brings Louis to the edge. "Harry," he gasps, and it's all the warning he can get out before the tension of arousal coiling around his dick and the base of his spine and stretching all the way up to his nipples snaps, and he spills all over Harry's tongue.
Harry pulls off before Louis is done coming, and some of Louis's come spurts over Harry's lips and chin. Louis relaxes his hold on Harry's hair and leans forward to wipe the come off with his thumb.
"Please touch me," Harry gasps, once Louis's dick has slipped completely free. "M’close."
Louis leans down and works his hand under Harry's body. He's barely even able to wrap it around Harry's cock before Harry starts shooting off, all over Louis's hand and the duvet below.
Liam grips Harry's hips tighter than ever and pushes in one last time, holding him there for a long, long moment, hips stuttering a little with the effort and, presumably, the way the vibrating strap-on is wedged against her clit, before releasing him, pulling out, and falling back against the bed with a sigh that Louis feels in his bones.
Louis stares at the way the strap-on stands up from her body. "I'd suck your dick, Liam," he tells her.
"So big of you," Liam says. She sounds fucking exhausted. "Next time I'll take you up on it."
"Move me up," Harry says, a little dramatically, sounding just as exhausted as Liam does. "Feel like all my bones turned to jelly."
"That'll teach you to hunt jelly-bone demons," Louis jokes, but he pushes Harry over until he flops onto his back, and then helps him scoot up the bed.
"Please, the jelly-bone demon is the only peaceful demon race out there," Harry says. Louis can't tell if he's kidding or not, so he kisses him.
Once they're all firmly ensconced in bed, Harry tucked in the middle, both Liam and Louis facing inward and Liam wrapping her arm around the both of them, Liam sighs. "That was so good, guys," she says, and there's the sound of her pressing a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "I'm glad we got the chance to do that."
"Missed you last night," Harry tells her, patting her side. "Glad you made it back safe from your recon mission with Eleanor-from-Brighton."
That's right. Louis had focused on the text Harry had sent during work that Liam was back safe, and hadn't actually asked what she'd discovered. "Was the news very bad, then?" he asks now. He runs his hand down the curve of Harry's side and leaves it settled on Harry's hip.
"Oh, yeah, end times bad," Liam says. "Some idiot is trying for an Ascension. Going full demon on us, by choice." She pauses. "I know that this was prophesied ages ago and we'd heard of it, but we did miscalculate the invincibility ceremony. Thought it was coming up, but they already completed it. We're very possibly doomed."
"Well, at least we'll die having had all this great sex," Harry says, wedging one of his legs in between Louis's. His words are tongue-in-cheek, but there’s a tension in his tone that misses the playful mark. He’s worried, Louis can tell.
"We can stop it though, right?" Louis asks. "Even at this point?"
"Yeah, Lou," says Liam. "We can stop it. It's been stopped before."
That reassures Louis a little, but it doesn't stop him from having dreams of the world burning down around him and Harry and Liam while they're all fucking each other all night long.
—-
A few days later, Louis is on his way to the flat that is, at least in name and rent owed, still his own for some quality Zayn time. Liam and Harry invited him to this convocation of all the Slayers and their affiliated Watchers in Britain to share information they've gleaned about the rise of apocalyptically bad evil planning to Ascend... somewhere... in the nation, but that sounded profoundly horrifying to Louis — particularly since, as neither Watcher nor Slayer, Harry wasn't quite sure they'd even let him in — so he'd opted out.
"You're sure you're sure?" Liam asks, one last time, as she pats through her purse to make sure she's loaded up on holy water and stakes. "It'll be weird, being away from you for that long."
"How long will the thing even take?" Louis asks. He'd imagined Harry and Liam getting back in a few hours, full of fresh knowledge and messages of impending doom.
"Could be quick," Harry says, coming up behind Louis and resting a hand, heavy, on the small of Louis's back. "Could be a few days. Depends on how much there is, really. With all the Slayers out there these days, there's really a limit on who gets which extremely rare books of prophecy handwritten by monks and shit."
Louis purses his lips. "Is your sister going to be there?" He'll consent to being on the periphery of horror — especially for Liam and Harry — if there's a chance he'll get to meet someone from Harry's family and get some glorious dirt on Harry as a child. Plus, Gemma sounds pretty badass, from what Liam and Harry have told him.
Also, even though they haven't really defined their relationship beyond 'we kill things and spend a lot of time together and fuck each other exclusively and have as-yet undefined feelings about it all,' he thinks it's about time they all start meeting family members.
But Harry shakes his head. "She's still in — Patagonia, I think? There was a Hellmouth situation Edinburgh and after that she wanted to travel outside the country for a bit."
"Oh, so you do get time off," Louis jokes. He's still torn, actually — he does want to be involved — but. "Think I'll still stay. I've been neglecting my vaguely psychic best mate and his werewolf maybe-girlfriend lately. Should focus on smoothing some things down with them, especially if the world is about to end."
"Be good, then," says Liam, kissing Louis quickly.
"Never," Louis promises. He drops a kiss on Harry's lips, too, for good measure. "Be safe."
"Always," Harry promises, and then Louis opens the door to go.
And promptly trips over a pair of Harry's shoes that are — for some reason that definitely isn’t related to Louis scattering his shit everywhere, and by proxy Harry’s shit everywhere — out of place. He throws his arms out, trying to catch himself against the wall before he falls, but misses, falling headfirst toward a bag of particularly gnarly-looking steel-tipped barbed arrows that someone — again, definitely Not Louis — has dumped unceremoniously next to the couch.
Oh, fuck, he thinks, and: Well, it's been nice to have all my body parts intact this long, but then he hits solid muscle and bone instead of sharp metal. It still knocks the wind out of him, but it doesn't put his eyes out or leave him otherwise horribly disfigured.
Liam clings to him for a second longer before gently easing him back onto his feet. "You alright, babe?" she asks.
"This is the fourth time you've saved my life," Louis tells her. He says it dramatically, but it's not all in farce — he's definitely shaken. "Liam Jane Payne, hero amongst Slayers, protector of the not-that-small and still-totally fierce civilians just learning about the bloody business of the underworld."
"You're welcome," says Liam, laughing a little. "Glad to do my part."
Harry kicks his shoes out of the way with a scowl, then tugs Louis into a reassuring hug, patting his back until Louis pinches his side. "Ouch!"
"You've saved my life too, probably, at least once," Louis teases, and leans up on his tiptoes for one more kiss.
"Cheers," Harry says, dryly, and then: "Alright, though?"
"Just fine," Louis promises. He walks out of the doorway to prove to them that he can. "Go, find out how fucked the world is so that we can figure out how to save it."
He waits in the hallway till they're both gone — admittedly, it's partly to compare the way their butts move when they walk away from him — before making his way into his own flat.
—-
"Wait, so you've actually killed them?" Zayn asks, frowning, eyelids heavy with the weed they'd smoked. "Like, actual murdering a vampire."
"Pretty sure it's called slaying," Louis points out, knocking the butt of his bottle of beer against Zayn's arm. "Ridding the world of evil and demons, one bloodsucker at a time."
"Yeah, but they also call killing werewolves slaying, don't they?"
Louis shifts a little, uncomfortably. Remembers the way that Liam had been prepared to go all in, silver bullets blazing, before they'd realised Niall was Niall. "I guess it depends on the wolf," he says, and then: "It's not all black and white, is it?"
"Nothing ever is," Zayn says. He sounds tense, agitated.
"Harry's put out a message," Louis says. "Stick only to killing things that are clearly harming humans. A reminder that not all wolves are bad. Apparently also some demons only eat kittens so, like. That's awful but not as awful as taking human fertility slaves for their egg spawn or whatever."
"How likely is that to be accepted, though?" Zayn asks, and Louis doesn't have an answer for him.
"Niall's careful," is all he says.
"I just." Zayn folds his hands together, leans back in his chair. "Bro, I keep having all these dreams. Real fire and brimstone-type dreams. I thought for a little bit that it was just about you hooking up with a Slayer, but… they've been getting worse, not better."
Louis freezes. "So," he says. "As it turns out, Harry and Liam are at this meeting thingy for all the Watchers and Slayers in the area — they invited me, but I wanted to spend time with my best mate —"
"Cheers for that," Zayn interrupts. He smiles at Louis, but it doesn't meet his eyes.
"Of course, babe," Louis says, fluttering his lashes at Zayn. "Anyway, it's because there's an apocalypse coming."
"The apocalypse, surely," says Zayn, frowning.
"No, apparently there are almost-apocalypses, like, all the time?" Louis says. "It's more common than you'd like to think. But this is a real big bad. I think they called it an Ascension? Some human is attempting to become full-on demon — it's happened, like, three or four times in the past and ended full civilizations every time. This person has apparently already got further than most manage to do, so."
"Jesus," says Zayn, succinctly.
Louis tries for a joke. "Actually, he didn't Ascend like that."
Thankfully, Zayn snorts at that. "Alright, bad man," he says. "How can I help, then?"
"You — what?"
"If the world's gonna end, I'm going to be right there next to you, saving it," Zayn says, as if it should be obvious. Which, Louis supposes, maybe it should have been. "I don't want to speak for Niall, but I expect she'll want to help, too." He pauses. "As long as there's not a lot of Slayers there trying to murder her."
Some stress that Louis didn't even realise was knotted up in his chest loosens as Zayn talks. "I love you, bro."
"Yeah, yeah," Zayn says, rolling his eyes a little. "You too, you big scary demon killer."
Louis smiles a little at that, faintly. "In that case," he says. "Want me to teach you some moves?"
"Might as well," Zayn says, but he's smiling for real now. "Show me what you've got, Tommo."
Louis squeezes his arm and leads him out and over to Harry's training room.
—-
The sun is warm on Louis’s back where he’s sprawled on Harry’s bed, fingers somehow tangled in Harry’s curls. That’s the first thing Louis registers actually, the fact that his hand’s stuck and when he tugs, Harry makes a noise in his sleep.
"Careful,” Liam whispers as Louis blinks sleepily up at her. "We don’t want Hazza going bald.”
Louis can’t think of any response except a grunt this early in the morning, and Liam smiles at him like she can tell. She’s all done up in her work uniform, which she looks as lovely as ever in, but it means she’s leaving. Louis doesn’t like that. He pouts at her, and she rolls her eyes, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"Be good,” she says, and Louis rolls over and nuzzles into Harry’s back as she leaves the room.
Louis wakes again with a sharp pain on his hip, a flash of hard points that leave a dull, throbbing ache. It’s Harry, of course. Louis doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know, but he does anyway, greeted by Harry’s green eyes gazing back at him.
"Morning,” Harry says, and takes Louis’s cock into his mouth. Louis’s hips lift without his permission and he gasps, a hand tightening in the blankets beside him.
"Fuck, love,” he says, as Harry works him over, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and moving in time with his mouth. Louis buries his hand back in Harry’s curls — he’s not sure how Harry got free without waking Louis up, actually — and tugs until Harry goes still and Louis can fuck his mouth like they both love.
Louis comes in no time at all, between the soft heat of Harry’s mouth and the way his hands run up and down Louis’s thighs and hips and the way his fingers sneak between Louis’s cheeks to tease at his hole.
Harry kisses him once he’s come down, kisses him deep with tongue and a hint of teeth and rubs his hard cock in the crease of Louis’s hip. "Want you,” he mumbles, and Louis can still taste himself after Harry’s kiss, can feel his dick fattening up again at how low and rough Harry’s voice has got. Harry leans close, stealing Louis’s breath as he pins his hips and wrists to the bed. "Wanna fuck your thighs and then your tight arse, yeah?”
Louis shivers under him, arousal spreading through his body, his fingertips tingling at how much he fucking wants it. "Yeah,” he answers, nodding. "Yeah, fuck, want that.”
Harry leans over him to dig through the drawer in the bedside table, his usually puffy nipples now tight and hard and hovering right over Louis’s mouth. Louis leans up the best he can to kiss Harry’s chest, making his way to the pink little peak and using the broad of his tongue to lick over it. Harry’s reaction is immediate. He shivers with his whole body, groaning like he can’t help it and folds in on himself, pushing his chest into Louis’s mouth. Louis is happy to spend his morning pinned to the bed and playing with Harry’s nipples until they’re raw and tender. Harry braces himself with an elbow above Louis’s head and whimpers as Louis works, using his lips and teeth and tongue until Harry pulls away, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.
He’s got the lube in one hand and uses the other to help Louis flip onto his stomach. Louis preens a bit once he’s turned over, pressing his knees together and arching his back because he knows it’ll drive Harry crazy. He’s not wrong; the next thing he feels is a sharp slap that makes him gasp, followed by Harry’s mouth pressing kisses to the hurt.
"Fuck, Harry, fuck me.” He’s begging, voice mostly muffled by the sheets, but he’s fully hard again and fucking gagging for it, wants Harry’s cock to stretch him out and fill him up.
"Thighs first,” Harry says. Louis hears the lube click open and groans as Harry rubs it onto his skin. Louis squeezes his legs together as tight as he can, biting his lip as Harry’s dick slips between his thighs, wet and big and perfect. Harry groans as his cock nudges up against Louis’s balls. Louis makes a noise in return, words escaping him.
Harry takes his time with it; pulls out slowly and thrusts back in at the same pace, his hands all over Louis’s arse, sticky fingers rubbing at his hole and taint, cock grinding between Louis’s thighs. Louis loses his breath and can’t get it back, so he breathes the best he can into the sheets and pillows and tries not to come all over himself before Harry even gets in him. Harry must be able to tell that Louis’s close, because the next time his fingers prod at Louis’s hole, they’re wet and cold, and slide into him to open him up. Louis moans, thrusting his hips back against Harry’s fingers. Harry laughs, the bastard, and removes his fingers. The next thing Louis feels is his cock pressing in and he makes an awful, embarrassing, broken noise as Harry thrusts in all the way. He grinds in little figure eights and leans down, pressing his back to Louis’s to speak in his ear.
"Gonna fuck you now, yeah? Hard. You want it hard?”
Louis makes the same broken noise and nods, crying out when Harry thrusts in hard, just like he promised. Louis braces a hand on the headboard to keep from sliding up the bed too much and lets Harry do as he pleases. He’s saying all sorts of filthy things that Louis doesn’t even really process, can’t process, so he just moans and reaches down to tug at his cock and come for a second time.
Harry pulls out when he comes and Louis feels it splatter all over his arse and back, weakly protesting as Harry rubs his come into Louis’s skin.
"You’re a barbarian,” he mumbles, rolling onto his side to glare at Harry. He’s too beautiful to stay mad at, though, especially with his hair wild and his eyes bright like they are now.
"You like it,” he replies, and Louis doesn’t disagree.
—
Later, when Louis steps out of the shower after giving himself a thorough cleaning, he stops to examine his face in the mirror like any self-respecting twenty-eight year old does. Of course, he barely gets past the slight lines by the corner of his eyes when the weird box on the shelf behind him starts to glow. Louis turns around to stare at it.
"That can’t be good,” he says, and the box opens, a flash of white engulfing the room.
—
Louis walks back into Harry’s room in a daze, his ears ringing, though he’s not really sure why. He’d expected spots in his vision or something with a light that bright, but he’s alright. He can see just fine. Harry’s moving his mouth, though, like he’s saying something, and Louis definitely can’t hear that. At least, not until Harry touches his shoulder and all sound comes rushing back, making Louis’s head pound.
"Fuck,” he says, swaying, grabbing onto Harry’s arms. Harry helps him to the bed, his face scrunched in concern. He runs his fingers over Louis’s face and Louis leans into the touch, the pounding in his head subsiding.
"Alright, love?” Harry asks quietly. Louis nods, shaking away the rest of the weirdness.
"Yeah, good, thanks,” he says, patting Harry’s cheek. "But, um, that box in your bathroom?”
Harry lights up at the mention of it. "Yeah! My friend Kendall gave it to me. She’s a Watcher in the States, told me she’d got it from this demon’s lair or whatever, and…”
Louis nods patiently while Harry rambles, smiling at him when he seems to realise that he’s gone off on a tangent, cheeks pinking up. "What about it?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.
Louis clears his throat. "It’s open.” Harry’s eyes widen and he stands, moving toward the bathroom. He hears Harry shout from the other room, WHAT and NOT GOOD.
"I thought not,” Louis says, following him. He finds Harry in front of the box, examining it carefully. "What’s bad about it?”
Harry startles, and turns to look at Louis, confusion flashing over his face. It’s gone in a moment, though. "Did you touch it?” he asks, without answering Louis’s question.
"Nah. There was just like — A bright light? Which makes it sound like I was dead or something, and I guess I could’ve been but then it cleared and I like, couldn’t hear?” Louis stops to take a breath. Maybe Harry’s rambling thing is rubbing off on him. "I dunno. S’weird.”
"Huh,” Harry says, and looks back to the box warily. "It opened on its own?”
"Yep, I didn’t even shake it this time.”
Harry throws him a scandalised look and shakes his head. "Well. We’ll just leave it, I suppose." He sounds doubtful, though. "It didn’t hurt you, right?”
Louis shrugs. "No. Seems harmless. We could try to close it?”
Harry shakes his head. "No, not yet. Let me do some research first.”
Louis rolls his eyes. Of course Harry wants to do research about it. "Nerd,” he says affectionately, smiling as Harry frowns grumpily at him.
"Don’t make that face,” Louis says, pinching Harry’s side. "You’ll get wrinkles.”
"You’re mean,” Harry says, pouting, but lets himself get dragged down into a sweet kiss. Louis closes his eyes and sinks into it, smiling when he hears lovely lovely lovely. It doesn’t occur to him that Harry’s mouth is occupied and he can’t speak.
"I think you’re lovely too,” Louis says when they pull apart, and Harry only looks slightly confused as he smiles back.
—
Louis starts noticing odd things. Well, odder than usual anyway. He gets particularly good at predicting his bosses’ needs and wants at work. He’ll prepare their documents and they'll come down to him and ask him to do it, but he's already done it. When he says they've already asked him to do it, they give him a look as if he's a bit mad and say they've been in their office all morning. But Louis could swear he heard someone telling him to do the tasks. So. Louis isn't quite sure what to make of it. Mostly, he takes the compliments and tries not to think about it.
Until Harry corners him one day in his own flat as he's trying to Hoover up some suspiciously blonde dog hair — Zayn's been on about it so much lately; he figures he might as well.
"I heard from my friend, Kendall,” Harry shouts at him over the noise of the vacuum. "She's said, um. She said — "
Louis frowns at him. "What? I can't hear you Harry, speak up!”
"SHE SAID —" Louis shuts the Hoover off. " — THAT THE BOX IS CURSED.”
Louis blinks at him. "Christ, Harry, there's no need to shout.”
Harry makes a face at him and Louis rolls his eyes, bending over to detach the dust canister thing. A small cloud of dust puffs up in his face, and his eyes water. They should probably hoover more often, really. Zayn probably should have brought it up earlier. He takes it over to the bin and flips the lid open.
"Louis,” Harry says, his tone serious enough that Louis looks up at him just as he empties the dirt into the bin. Harry's mouth twists before he says, "Can you hear people's thoughts?”
A large cloud of dust and werewolf dander hits Louis in the face. He sneezes. "What?” He sneezes again, violently, covering his face in his hands and smearing the dust on his face. "Oh, Christ,” he says, sneezing again and dropping the canister all together. He hears Harry sigh and the next thing he knows, he’s being led into the kitchen, the faucet turned on and his hands stuck under the water. "Shit, that’s cold.”
"Well, maybe if you weren’t a complete disaster when it comes to housework,” Harry mumbles. Louis frowns at him.
"That’s not fair.” Even though it is. Louis’s made the dishwasher overload on multiple occasions, and has no real concept of how to like, properly mop a floor. It’s not his fault! He could just never be bothered when his mum tried to teach him, particularly since he was fairly certain she’d go back over what he did later anyway.
Harry wets a towel and wipes at Louis’s face gently, getting the dirt off his forehead and chin and cheeks. It’s soothing to be taken care of like this, makes something tug in his chest as he looks at Harry’s face intense with concentration.
LOVE he hears, as Harry rubs at a spot on his cheekbone, carefully, with his thumb, I LOVE HIM.
Louis’s breath catches in his throat. He looks into Harry’s eyes, trying to figure out if that was really his thought, or if it was something else or if he’s just fucking hallucinating. If maybe he's projecting his own thought into Harry's mind. He feels odd hearing Harry’s thoughts. Or anyone’s thoughts, really. Those aren’t for him to know, and it feels like an invasion of privacy.
He clears his throat. "Um, yeah, I think I can, actually. Like, hear people. What they’re thinking. Or like, part of it, at least?”
Harry’s brow furrows. "What do you mean?”
"Like, at work. I keep hearing my boss tell me to do stuff and I will but then he’ll come down and he says he hasn’t told me to do anything, but he must’ve because, like, I’ve already done it.”
"Right,” Harry says, looking worried. "Well, I think you’ve been cursed.”
"Cursed,” Louis repeats, dubious. "Like, cursed. What?”
"The box. It curses whoever opens it. Or, whoever's around when it opens, I suppose.”
"And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?" Louis demands. "This is, like, one of the three times I didn't try to figure out what's inside of it!"
It's weird, knowing that Harry is thinking YOU BEAUTIFUL IDIOT right now. There's a lot of imagery, too, snatches of memories of Louis sneaking along on hunts and getting himself in trouble.
Luckily, they all seem to be fond thoughts. "I know I'm too curious for my own good," Louis tells him. "It's my fatal character flaw."
"Don't say that," Harry hisses, and there's a sudden flurry of images — of Harry's last Slayer, maybe? — that Louis isn't quite prepared to unpack.
"Sorry," says Louis, and then: "But like, is it really a curse? This could be dead useful." He pauses, reflecting on the implications. "Like, what if I come across someone who knows Rihanna's phone number? A quick thought and then we have it!"
Harry gives him a very unimpressed look. "I can reach Rihanna any old time," he says. "She's a Slayer; she's on the network."
"And you didn't tell me? Styles, I'm horrified. I'm breaking up with you."
The expression on Harry's face turns shrewd, and Louis hears his AHA! before he even starts to talk. Fucking bizarre, that. "Louis, babe, it's okay if this is scary."
"No fair," says Louis, carefully. "I thought I was the only one who got the fancy brain-reading superpowers."
CURSE, Harry's thoughts correct, worriedly.
"Curse, then," says Louis, and he tries not to look at the expression on Harry's face anymore, or listen to the thoughts rolling off him in waves. If he acknowledges Harry's concern in the face of this, his own fear will grow, and that won't benefit anyone, now, will it.
"We'll get this sorted," Harry promises, framing Louis's face with both of his big warm hands and guiding him into a kiss.
Love you too, Louis thinks. He says, "Cheers, Haz," and then: "But first, have you told Liam yet? Can we use my curse to our advantage and prank her with it first?"
Harry laughs, and kisses him again.
—
Now that Louis’s aware, he can't shake the feeling that he's intruding on all these private moments, and thoughts and stories he hasn't earned yet. He understands, now, that Liam communicates her feelings through action more than through word because ever since she came into her powers, she's learned she can trust her body, and she still hasn't learned how to trust her voice that much. He understands now why Harry's always seemed more subtle about speaking through his physicality — he wasn't initially that way, used to be more effusive with his words and impressions rather than letting the cut of his knife or his spell or his arse carry the load for him. But he'd lost his first Slayer right after an impassioned speech about her abilities and their friendship, and now he shies away from anything that could be construed as famous last words.
He knows, now, the horror Zayn feels when he wakes up from a premonitory dream, the hundred ways all the trees and buildings of London could go up in flames while its streets run with with blood and ichor. He knows the way looking at Niall quietens Zayn's thoughts, pushes away the terror with soft feelings. The way Niall dreams of the wind in her fur and dirt under her paws, and the strength it takes to keep from waking up howling under the full moon when she doesn't want to shift.
And all that's just the easy stuff. He knows the infidelities and wishes of strangers on the tube, the struggle the other assistant at his firm is having with conceiving a much-wanted child with her wife, the fight his barista had with their mother last night.
And he knows that someone at work is planning something. That someone at work isn’t human, isn’t what they’re pretending to be. He hears — filtered among things like the fucking Trolley Song — things about a plan, an Ascension. He sees London burning, bodies strewn everywhere and blood running through the streets. He can’t tell who it is, though, and he doesn’t want to tell Harry and Liam if he can’t tell them whose arse it is that they need to kick, particularly given how stressed out and preoccupied they clearly are.
So, Louis does a bit of investigating by himself. He knows he shouldn’t, because it’s dangerous and he could, by all rights, die. But he supposes if he dies while trying to stop the end of the fucking world that it’ll be worth it. He’ll be someone for people to be proud of, or whatever. And like, he’s not doing it because he wants to be a hero. Just like, if something happens. It probably won’t be a total waste.
Anyway, all it really means is that Louis takes to sneaking (very badly, mind) around work and trying to figure out whose thoughts are whose. And, all that means is that he’s purposefully trying to hear his bosses’ thoughts which, honestly, he’d rather not be privy to. There’s quite a bit of infidelity when you’re a rich, powerful dude, apparently. And some if you’re a rich and powerful woman, though slightly less. Or, perhaps, she just thinks of it less often. Louis really doesn’t know and doesn’t care to ask.
He’s walking down the corridor one day, arms full of papers and files that need to be digitised, when DEATH SOON stops him in his tracks. It sounds a bit suicidal but the feeling’s not behind it. Louis has got pretty good at deciphering emotions and context of the thoughts, if he does say so himself. This one feels more like someone wishing death upon someone else. A lot of someones, maybe. He looks around at the doors. The associate barristers have offices on this floor. Winston, Wootton, Sheeran and Corden.
Benjamin Winston’s a bit of a jerk about women, but not the type to start an Ascension, Louis thinks. He’s also out for the day, so there’s that. Corden’s a lad and good for a laugh and Louis knows his thoughts from everyone else’s, so it’s not him. He’s at lunch, Louis’s pretty sure. It can’t be him. So, that leaves Music Ed and Dan Wootton.
Ed’s fucking annoying, but Louis can’t really imagine him thinking about laying waste to London. Or even having any idea what a demon is, since he’s so wrapped up in his guitar and singing. (Louis’s fairly certain he’s the one singing the Trolley Song in his head day in and day out.)
So, that leaves Wootton. He’s a bastard for sure, Louis knows. He’s got more than one admin assistant fired after specifically telling them to do something incorrectly and then reporting it to the partners. When he and another associate barrister lost a huge case last year, Louis was fairly certain that Wootton had thrown the other barrister under the bus and got him fired. He’s been acting oddly lately too: taking long lunches and staying late when he’s really not supposed to. He’s a shady figure, for sure, and probably the best bet for who’d try to take over the world.
Louis hurries down the corridor when he hears a door open, not bothering to look and see who it is. He’ll get reprimanded either way if he’s caught standing and doing nothing. Besides, he’s got to formulate a plan before he can tell Harry and Liam anything, and he’s got to get cracking.
—
He starts simply with covert coming-and-going logs of Wootton’s movements, just to get a real idea of his daily routine. He takes long lunches three times a week, and when Louis checks Wootton’s online schedule, it says he’s meeting clients on the other side of the city. Fair enough, but Louis doesn’t trust it. Especially not with the way the DEATH DEATH DEATH thoughts get more intense every time he walks through the door in the afternoon. Louis wishes he could do more investigation, like looking at his financial records and the like, but he doesn’t know how he’d do it. Unless he got into Wootton’s office on his lunch break or something, but he can’t do that. Can he?
Fuck. He’s going to.
He hides out in the men’s loo on the associate barrister’s floor the day of one of Wootton’s across town meetings. Once he’s sure Wootton’s gone, he sneaks down the corridor and waves his keycard in front of the pad on Wootton’s door. The light flashes green and Louis sighs with relief and blesses the day he was able to convince the head of security to give him full clearance in the name of record-keeping.
Louis slips into the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. It’s clean, well-kept, almost sterile, really. There’s no pictures of Wootton and his family or any friends, but Louis supposes the prick doesn’t have any friends, so. It makes sense. The background on his computer is some stock photo of green hills and the sea, and Louis rolls his eyes at the fact that Wootton leaves his computer unlocked. Idiot.
He clicks around a bit, opening the browser and looking through his bookmarks. There’s a lot of weird shit bookmarked that Louis doesn’t want to even address, so he looks over it and exits when he can’t find anything. He goes through the personal until he gets to some saved bank account statements, two versions of each that have clearly been altered. Seems like Wootton’s had regular deposits every three months for amounts about double his salary. Money’s surely important when planning an Ascension, right? Whatever. Louis sends the documents to print at the front desk and closes everything down, slipping out of the office, straightening his tie as he stands in the hallway.
This whole spying thing is a piece of cake, really.
—
Louis sits on the knowledge of Wootton’s bank accounts before telling Harry and Liam anything. He isn’t sure why, really, because they’d know what to do, but he just. Doesn’t. He wants to give them something certain, not just give them information and let them do all the work and get dragged along for the final show. He wants to be useful. He can be useful.
Louis starts asking around, taking note of where exactly it is that Wootton goes. He tries to do it without being suspicious, masking it as exasperation that Wootton gets special long lunches when no one else does. He makes sure to look at Wootton’s takeaway cups and write down the names of the restaurants. It takes him a few weeks to gather all the information, but eventually he’s amassed a complete file.
But he still doesn’t know anything about the supernatural beings running the show. Wootton could be a demon, but probably not. He could be a vampire, or a werewolf or something, but really Louis has no idea. He hasn’t been doing this long enough to figure it out on his own.
Maybe if he follows Wootton and sees who he’s meeting, Louis can figure it out and take the information to Harry and Liam. They’ll yell at him for doing something dangerous, but it’ll be worth it. He’ll have helped, truly helped. They’ve been worried about him, he knows. Giving him odd looks when they think he can’t see, and letting their touches linger a little longer than usual, like they’re trying to ask him whether or not he’s alright. It doesn’t help that he can hear their thoughts banging about in his head. He doesn’t know what to tell them. He doesn’t really know what to tell them, at this point, so he just doesn’t tell them anything.
One night Louis stays as late as Wootton does under the guise of catching up on the digitizing. That’s what he texts Liam and Harry and Zayn and Niall, at least, when they ask when he’s coming home. He turns his phone on silent and slips it into his pocket, making sure to turn off all the computers at the front desk and get everything in order.
He’s just pulling on his coat as Wootton gets off the elevator. Louis offers him a polite smile.
"Have a nice night, sir,” he says. Wootton only grunts in reply, his face twisted unpleasantly. Bad mood, then. Maybe his Ascension planning’s not going well.
Louis waits half a minute before following, locking the door behind him in order to keep a safe distance between him and Wootton. He takes a deep breath. Is he really about to do this? He is. He has to.
He takes off down the street, keeping a close eye on Wootton but trying not to act too suspicious. He’s got much better since the time he’d followed Liam and Harry, so he thinks he’s doing quite well.
—
Wootton ends up in an abandoned storefront across London from their office. Louis heads into the alley and finds an unlocked back door and slips in — resisting the urge to make a dirty joke to himself, mind — finding himself in what probably used to be the staff room. There’s a table and chairs scattered about the room, some overturned and some bent at odd angles. There’s marks on the wall like there used to be posters that have long since gone, and there’s two doorways. One’s open, the light of the corridor outside it streaming into the room, the other closed. Louis tries to open it but it’s locked, so he gives up and sneaks out into the corridor.
Of course, the second he steps foot outside the room, there’s a commotion at the end of the corridor and he panics, running across the way to an empty supply closet. He presses his ear to the door, listening.
Footsteps, he hears definite footsteps. He doesn’t feel the weird pull of people’s thoughts, though, which is strange. Or, maybe the curse has lifted itself or something. Maybe that means he’s on the right track.
The footsteps get louder and Louis can hear voices as well. Thick and Southie sounding, like one of Zayn’s ex-girlfriends when she got drunk.
"Not to worry Mr. Wootton, we’re just going to have a nice chat,” the voice says, followed by the sound of a door shutting. Louis waits a moment for any other noises, but the don’t come. He cracks the door and looks around, finding the corridor empty. Thank christ. His heart slows down a bit and he takes a breath. He hadn’t even realised he was so nervous, really.
"Louis!”
His heart jumps into his throat again and he whips around, a stone sinking into his stomach when he sees Harry and Liam at the other end of the corridor. Liam looks highly annoyed and disapproving, but Harry — Harry looks well and truly pissed. His mouth’s gone all thin and his gaze is hard. It’s actually a little frightening to look at him. Louis looks at Liam instead.
"What are you doing here?” he says in a furious whisper. Liam looks affronted, and then annoyed again.
"What are we doing here? What the bloody fuck are you doing here, Louis?” she whisper-shouts, and Louis scampers down the corridor to them so they can lower their voices even more.
"I’m investigating a lead,” he says, but even as the words come out of his mouth, it sounds stupid. Christ, he’s so stupid. "I was hearing things at work. I think one of my bosses is the one planning the Ascension.”
Liam rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up. "Then why wouldn’t you tell us? Me and Harry, who are specifically trained and like, paid to do shit exactly like that?”
Louis feels his cheeks heat. "I just wanted — I wanted to help.”
"Help.” It’s the first thing Harry’s said this whole time, and his voice is flat, emotionless. He still looks angry. "You wanted to help.”
Liam puts a hand to the nape of Harry’s neck, but it does nothing to soothe the tension in his shoulders. "Helping means telling us the first moment you think something could happen,” Liam says, tone gentler. "That’s how you can help, Louis. We can’t have you running around and playing at things you don’t really understand.”
Louis takes a step back, stung. So he’d been right, then. He’s not useful, not helpful. He’s just their what? Their sex toy? "Okay,” he says slowly, his throat feeling tight. "I, um. Alright. Well, they’re in that room.”
He turns to point, which is, of course, when they all realise they’ve had an audience this entire time.
"If you lot are through,” the Southie says, hands on his hips. "We’d love for you to join us.”
—
Being tied to chairs is really starting to get old, honestly.
It’s only happened the one other time, but the last time was a demon and not some skinny shitehead with two huge bodyguards. Liam has super strength and all that, but Louis doesn’t know if she could take them, even.
He lets out a sigh and looks over to Harry, who’s got his eyes closed and seems to be concentrating very hard on something. Louis’s really gone and fucked up now, he knows. Harry rarely ever gets quiet and angry. So rarely in fact that Louis is pretty sure this is the only time he’s actually seen it happen, rather than hearing about it later from Liam. He should’ve just told them, he knows. Then they wouldn’t be here. Fuck. He’s so fucking stupid and now they hate him and won’t want him to be there at all and he’s really honestly just fucked up the best thing ever to happen to him. What’s worse is that he can’t hear anyone’s thoughts, so he has no idea what’s going on. He just wants to know what Harry’s thinking, what he’s doing. How they’re going to get out of this.
Something hits him gently in the side of the head and he turns toward Liam, frowning. She’s got out of her ropes, because of course she has, and she keeps glancing toward the men with their backs to them, watching the skinny mobster man speak to Wootton, who, to Louis’s great surprise and enjoyment, is also tied to a chair. Louis doesn’t really understand what they’re saying because the man’s speaking too fast and not letting Wootton answer, but it seems to be something about their deal gone wrong.
It dawns on Louis that he’s spectacularly, spectacularly wrong.
These blokes are much too stupid to be supernatural beings. A demon or a vamp would know the exact moment Liam got out of her bonds, and they’d know immediately what she was and what Harry was and they’d know who Louis was because they all know. Fuck.
He feels his ropes loosen, feels Liam’s breath on the back of his neck and then she’s moving away, and he’s turning his wrists over, rubbing at the burn.
Louis looks to Liam where she’s untying Harry, a pulse of jealousy stabbing through his chest when he smiles up at her gratefully. He’ll probably never smile at Louis like that again. Fuck.
"Right,” Liam says, and Louis scrambles to stand next to her, distancing himself from the huge men. "Sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be going now.”
"The fuck you will,” Skinny says. "Al, Frank, get them back in the chairs.”
Liam moves into her fighting stance as the men lumber forward, but Harry steps between all of them calmly, facing them. "As the lady said, we’ll be going now.”
The men laugh, and one of them moves forward, swinging a fist at Harry. Louis flinches but Harry calmly catches the fist and twists the man’s arm around, pulling it back until there’s a sickening crack and he collapses, yelling in pain. The other man makes a low, angry sounding grunt and goes for Liam, but Harry’s there before Liam can even react. Harry twists the man’s arm around his back and pushes him to the floor, holding onto his wrist and pulling his arm as he steps between the man’s shoulder blades.
"I want to be very clear,” Harry says, leaning down, and his voice eerily calm and low, yet somehow still perfectly clear over the man’s cries of pain. "My friends and I don’t care about you. You’re meaningless, but if you try to hurt them, I will kill you. They’d probably only knock you around a bit, because they’re better people than I am, and generally speaking we’re all pretty good people. But I know men like you, and I know you think you’re important but trust me when I say, you’re not. I used to be like my friends, used to have more patience for people who got in the way, but I’ve seen too much, dealt with too much to care anymore. You get it?”
This is by far the most frightened and turned on Louis has ever been at once. He grabs Liam’s hand, squeezing, relieved when she squeezes back. The man on the floor yells out his assent and Harry lets his arm go. He doesn’t bother looking at Skinny or Wootton as he turns away and walks out. Liam and Louis follow him, nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides.
The cold outside air is like a slap in the face. Louis breathes in deeply, speeding up to catch Harry’s arm.
"Harry,” he says, "I just —”
Harry rips his arm out of Louis’s grip and bites out a, "Later,” that makes Louis’s heart sink into his stomach. He falls back beside Liam, letting her wrap an arm around him as they take the tube back to their side of town.
The ride is dreadfully long and quiet, and the walk back to their flats is almost even worse. Harry stops at his flat door, unlocking it, and Louis stands awkwardly before clearing his throat and detaching himself from Liam. Harry had said later, but Louis doesn’t know what that means. If he were Harry, he wouldn’t want to see himself at all until tomorrow.
He digs around his pockets for his keys, stopping only when he feels a hand on him, a little less gentle than usual, but familiar.
"What are you doing?”
Harry’s voice sounds less angry and his gaze has softened a bit, but a shiver of fear still runs up Louis’s spine.
"Going home,” he says, voice croaky.
"No,” Harry answers and pulls him into his flat.
Liam turns on the lights and slips away somewhere and Harry paces around the living room, tugging at his jacket and eventually taking it off and dumping it on the couch. That’s not good Harry always takes the time to hang his coat by the door. If he can’t be bothered to do it now, then he must truly be upset.
"I’m sorry,” Louis says, his throat tight. He probably sounds like he’s about to cry and fuck, he probably is. "It was stupid, I know. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
Harry stops with his back to Louis, his head shaking and his shoulders raise in a sigh. He turns eventually, a hand over his mouth. "Do you even understand how incredibly stupid what you did was? How dangerous it is for you to go off on your own like that?”
"I just wanted to help,” Louis says weakly, "I just wanted to be useful. I wanted to be more than just like, someone you have sex with.”
Harry closes his eyes, shaking his head. "No. That’s not good enough, Louis. You are useful. You know you’re useful and you know we — we need you. Do you get it?”
Tears well up in Louis’s eyes. He can remember Harry’s voice in his head so clearly. LOVE YOU LOVE LOVE LOVE. Louis doesn’t know why he’d put that in jeopardy. Why he feels the need to destroy every fucking good thing in his life that happens to him. "Harry,” he says, voice breaking. Harry’s next to him in a moment, wrapping him in a hug, his mouth at Louis’s ear when he says:
"We can’t lose you, alright? I can’t lose you. You are too important.”
"Stop,” Louis says. Christ, he’s going to start crying.
"I won’t,” Harry says, pressing kisses to Louis’s cheeks. "I want more than anything to keep you safe, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on. I need you safe, so you need to tell us things. Okay? Deal?”
"Deal,” Louis says with a sniff. He feels wrung out, fucking ridiculously relieved that Harry isn’t kicking him out, that they want him around and still like him and don’t think he’s too much of a bother. He just needs one thing to make it better, really. "Could I have a kiss?”
Harry makes a face like he’s considering it. "I dunno,” he says. "You gave me an awful fright tonight. I dunno if you deserve one.”
Louis pouts, bringing his hands to Harry’s hips and squeezing just like he likes. "Please?” he says, giving Harry his best under-the-eyelashes look. Harry rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss him. Louis kisses back, squeezing Harry’s hips again.
They move into the bedroom and snuggle up under the covers with Liam, all three of them tangled together under the sheets, fitting perfectly. Louis wouldn’t have it any other way.
—
When Louis gets up to piss in the middle of the night, he notices, through his sleep-haze, that the box on the shelf has closed. That explains that, at least.
He leans against the sink, looking at it with his lips pursed.
"Told me what I needed to know, huh?” he says softly. "I'd say thank you, but I'm not sure you deserve it.”
The box glows faintly at him, as if trying to answer. But that doesn't make sense. Does it? Louis is truly too exhausted for this. He shakes his head and wanders back into bed. He can tell them about the box in the morning.
—
"Hey," says Ed, sliding down into the seat across from Louis. He glances to the door, which had slammed shut after Dan Wootton scurried out of the break room the minute he'd seen Louis. "So that was weird."
"Oh, yeah," says Louis. He's still a little dazed from the week before. "I walked in on him in a… compromising position the other day. I think he's embarrassed."
Ed waggles his eyebrows. "Dish," he demands, but Louis shakes his head and takes a bite of his apple. (He's been eating fruits and vegetables lately. It's a guilt thing. He'll be back on sausage rolls and chips as soon as this Ascension nonsense is over.)
"I could tell you," he says. "But then I'd have to kill you."
"You're no fun," Ed says with a crooked smile. He reaches forward and grabs Louis's lunchbag. "So what did the boyfriend draw today?"
This time, it's a bunch of doodled flowers, some of which have dicks for stems. Harry'd left off the religious and paranormal iconography after Louis had finally fessed up about the Ascension thoughts he'd overheard at work, 'so you don't get yourself into even worse trouble, you insufferable man, we definitely want the jump on this person.' Honestly, Louis misses the days of vampire teeth and crosses. The willies are a nice touch, though. Maybe after all this is said and done and they've (hopefully) saved the world, he can ask Harry to draw willies in hearts, instead of stakes.
"Cute," Ed says. He rummages through the bag. "Got anything for a hungry barrister?"
Harry'd made biscuits the other day in a fit of pique at not having solved this whole thing yet. Louis's been looking forward to the two he knows Harry packed for him all day. "I'm mostly done," he says, as Ed dumps the baggie out into his hand.
"Ouch," he says, suddenly, and when Louis glances across, Ed's gone and snagged his hand on the little plastic knife Harry'd thrown in the bag so Louis could cut into the leftover lasagne if he felt so inclined.
"Oh, mate," Louis says, dismayed, reaching automatically for something Ed can use to press against the cut and stop the little bit of sluggish bleeding that's bound to follow, but before he can even grab at any serviettes, the skin of Ed's finger knits back together in front of his very eyes until it's like there was never a cut there in the first place. "Uh…"
"Guess I just got surprised!" Ed says, cheerfully, pulling his hand rapidly out of Louis's line of sight. "No harm done. No skin broken."
Ed's skin had been definitely broken. Louis flips through the mental rolodex about what he knows about the Ascension, and invincibility. All records indicate that invincibility means harm gets erased as quickly as it's introduced to a body — not that harm can't be done in the first place. Records from the last attempted Ascension, back in the days of the One Slayer, mentioned the guy in question having his head sliced clean in two by a sword. It could get cut, but seconds later it was like nothing at all had happened, and the man was just fine.
Well, as fine as any lunatic who wants to Ascend and destroy the world in the process can be.
"Guess so," he agrees with Ed. He hopes his bluster isn't too apparent. "Lucky, that."
He lets Ed abscond with one of his biscuits, counts slowly to three hundred after Ed leaves the break room, and then goes to Sophia, the other admin assistant, and tells her he just puked his guts out and needs to head home for the day. He must look pale from what he just saw, because she waves him off and promises to cover for him.
He's opening a group text to Harry, Liam, Zayn, and Niall and texting 999 future demon located before he's even out of the building. He follows it up with a for real this time and a sorry again and, as soon as he's a few blocks away from work, requests an Uber. There's no way he's going to risk losing mobile service on the tube right now.
—-
Harry Facetimes some old bloke named Rupert — lives in Cleveland, Ohio, but he's British — after he's got the whole story off Louis. A blonde, a brunette, and a redheaded woman are sitting with him when Harry gets through. They introduce themselves, too, and Liam looks a little awestruck — so does Harry, for that matter — but Louis is honestly so preoccupied with how he missed that it was Ed the whole time that the names don't stick.
"Well," the redhead says, frowning. "Dawn wasn't there for the last Ascension, but the rest of us were -"
"Hey," the brunette — Dawn — breaks in. "I do still have memories of it, even though I wasn't there. The monks made sure of that."
"Doesn't count," the blonde says. She looks very tired.
Dawn pouts, and the redhead adds, "Anyway, it was really awful. Half of me and Buffy's graduating class were killed, or turned, or something. He's really already invincible?"
"Saw a cut vanish before me very eyes," Louis confirms.
All three women and Rupert wince. "That's like, extremely bad," the blonde says. "You won't be able to kill him until he turns, and that will be… very hard."
"Well, the Codex of Dark Magyks suggests that it may be possible—" the redhead starts, and she and Rupert become embroiled in a very fast and very deep discussion of spells and weapons and demons that Louis finds very difficult to follow. Instead, he watches the pattern of expressions playing out over Harry's face — Harry seems to be following most of it, at least, and most of it seems perhaps less than ideal.
"Liam, right?" the blonde says, eventually, and Louis snaps to attention.
"Yes, ma'am," says Liam, face turning such a brilliant and vivid red that Louis very nearly takes a moment to thank the universe for the knowledge that cool, capable Liam Payne can be starstruck like this.
"Buffy's fine," the woman smiles. "How many Slayers are in London with you right now? Do we need to send some more?"
"There's six of us active in the city," Liam says.
"We've also put a call out to nearby towns with more than one, and other cities in the UK with more than two," Harry adds. "Once we've settled on when and where the Ascension most likely is, we can likely get up to twelve or thirteen Slayers, either in-house or nearby." His face is grim. Louis doesn't have to wonder why — if they need that many Slayers to take down a demon, there's a very good chance it means that most of those Slayers won't come out alive.
He reaches over, takes Liam's hand in his, and squeezes. She glances over at him, flashes a smile that's only mildly reassuring, and focuses again on Harry's tablet.
"So we just need to figure out when," Liam adds. "And where, since there's no actual Hellmouth in London."
"It'll probably be some kind of gathering," Rupert says, cleaning his glasses off on a handkerchief. "He'll need a lot of people to eat to gain the strength he needs right after the transformation."
"There were a couple hundred at our graduation," says the redhead. "Students, their families."
"Principal Snyder," the blonde says, with a snort. She quickly sobers, though. "We trained the entire senior class to fight and a lot of them died, anyway. It was… of the bad." She pauses. "But wouldn't the location need to at least be high in mystical energy? If it's not all, you know. Hellmouthy."
Something pings, deep in the recesses of Louis's mind. "What about a self-organised concert?" he asks.
Everyone looks at him. He shifts under the weight of six pairs of eyes, staring at him — in person, through the internet from somewhere in America, whatever.
"He loves singing," Louis clarifies. "Keeps talking about how that's all he wants to do." He pauses, reaches for Harry's hand, too, so that he's holding on tight to both him and Liam. "He's organizing a show to put on in, like, two weeks? Three, maybe? I have the invite somewhere around here; I told him I'd go and bring some friends."
"That could do it," Rupert says, quietly. "Harry —"
"On it," Harry promises. "Lou, you think you could get some more invites, for the other Slayers? Maybe a guest list?"
Louis, quite honestly, never wants to talk to Ed again. He's seen what's inside his head, the blood and violence he craves when he's not thinking about his blasted music. He grits his teeth. "I can try," he says, and squeezes both Harry's and Liam's hands.
—-
Louis wouldn't ordinarily peg Camden as a hotbed of supernatural activity or other mystical energies, but Ed is more than happy to chat on and on (and on and on, and on and on some more) about the sick classic old venue he's managed to book for a free show, how it's a Mecca for indie gigs and he's so, so humbled to get the chance to play at the former Barfly. Et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum, and other Latin words that don't quite make up a spell.
Actually, Louis could very well be charmed by Ed's excitement — even by his cocky little "Maybe if they want to sign me I can quit this lawyering gig, eh?" and wink — if he hadn't got a front-row pass to the thoughts swirling through Ed's head, back when the box was still open and its powers were inside of him.
As it is, the images of people twisting in grotesquely painful ways in the streets as a giant demon form picks them off the ground one by one and consumes their living flesh, the images of people venerating the demon to avoid death and dying in the process of trying to save their own (literal) skins… well.
It certainly puts a damper on Louis's appreciation of Ed's enthusiasm.
He goes out to the venue with Harry, Liam, and Niall after an afternoon of truly embarrassing begging and effusive promises to not run off on his own again and try to save the day if they just let him come with, and they case the joint, get a sense of the entrances and exits and any features that might lead to any kind of advantages in the upcoming battle.
"In Sunnydale, they had to literally blow up the school to stop the Ascension," Harry says, doubtfully, prodding at a pile of electrical cables with his booted toe. "But I dunno how feasible that is here."
"Lots of residential shit," Louis agrees, forlorn. They don't want to be worse than the monsters in trying to stop the monsters, after all.
"Do we even know what kind of demon he's trying to turn into?" Liam asks, from where she's practically hanging upside down from the ceiling, getting a good look at the light fixtures there. "Because that could affect things, right?"
"All I got from him was blood and music," Louis says. "And death."
Niall pokes her head around the bar, where she's got distracted by photographs of famous acts who've performed there before. "Zayn's been talking a lot about pincers," she says. "In his sleep. Pincers and leathery wings."
Harry taps the info into his phone. "I'll cross-reference that with the list of known Old Demons in my books once we get back," he says, and yawns so widely that his jaw pops.
It is half four in the morning, Louis supposes. They didn't want to risk anyone coming in during their investigation. The only saving grace here is that tomorrow's a Saturday, so he doesn't have to try to act normal around Ed on an hour and a half of sleep all day. He snaps a few photographs of the layout of the room, being sure to get the fire extinguisher in the corner and the pickaxe behind glass next to it — In Case of Emergency, the sign reads, with a little hammer to break the glass.
Louis hadn't exactly planned on signing on for anything this intense when he first started following Harry around and snooping in his flat, but he's here now. It's not even a matter of making the most of a bad situation at this point. He'd have been all-in even before hearing the way Harry and Liam think — during fights, during sex, during mundane daily activities — but he's even more all-in now. He envisions smashing through and grabbing the axe, wielding it, cutting off Ed's demon claws with it, and tries not to picture Ed grabbing him and ripping him limb from limb immediately thereafter. It's hard, though, impossibly hard to shake the feeling that he's going to end up dying to save humanity.
The idea isn't as scary as he'd imagined it might be.
Still, he grabs Harry by the waist as soon as everything seems to be wrapping up and drags him in for a big bear hug, beckoning Liam and Niall over to join them. He'll get Zayn as soon as they all get home.
—-
It proves impossible to sneak weapons back into the venue in advance of the fight, but Louis learns a fair few exciting spells for making swords deadly sharp and enhanced enough that they always make contact when they're swung. There are potions, too, ones that leech poison strong enough to fell any lesser demon and hopefully effective against an Ascended human/Old One hybrid, as well.
Liam draws the line at putting together any bombs. "I don't care if that's what saved the world in California," she says. "Slayers aren't meant to hurt humans whilst they do their duties."
"He'll hurt humans if he breaks free," Harry argues, looking all the while as if he he very much regrets needing to make that argument.
"No," Liam repeats, but then she winces. "Okay. In a car nearby that I - that someone can get to just in case, as a last resort."
"Fine," says Harry, shortly.
"Fine," says Liam, even more shortly.
"It'll be fine," says Louis, as reassuringly as he can manage. In between the truly wicked cool weapons and spellcasting lessons he's getting from Harry and Liam and some of the other London teams, he's trying to come to terms with the knowledge that there's a very good chance none of them will survive this encounter. He's even read up on some of Harry's massive dusty old tomes on Ascensions. They don't sound like a lot of fun. Surviving is… not terribly common. Some lesser vengeance demon once wrote about an ascension she observed like it was the most horrifying moment of her thousand-year existence.
Louis thinks that if something rattles a creature called a "vengeance demon," it's probably pretty horrifying.
"Really just — fine," he reiterates, going to put one hand each on Harry's and Liam's backs. If he's got about a three percent chance of living to see his 29th birthday regardless of whether he helps stop Ed's Ascension or runs the other way and allows it to happen with his negligence, he can try to give Liam and Harry all the moral support they need to try and best this thing. A lot of that comes in the form of incredibly athletic sex, interspersed with the random word of affirmation, but it does seem to calm them down a little every time.
Liam curves into Louis's touch, burying her head in his shoulder. "Thanks, babe," she says. He strokes her back softly, fingers tangling in her hair as he does.
Harry's cat comes up and head-butts Harry in the leg, and Harry deflates, too. He runs a hand through his hair — it's getting longer in the front, curls forming the longer Harry puts off cutting it; it's a good look — and nudges his way into a three-way hug. "This'll be the hardest fight we've ever had," he says. "But Liam, if anyone can do it —"
"We can," she says. "Together. You, me, Louis, all the other Slayers and their Watchers in the audience." She tries for a smile, and it wobbles a little but doesn't vanish. "Hell, do you think Ed Sheeran, wannabe demon, has a werewolf on his side?"
"Well, if he does, then they're evil," Louis says. "But he certainly doesn't have anyone with a direct link to the future on his side, for sure." He forces a smirk. "Otherwise he'd know not to even bother trying to go up against us, right?"
"I just," Harry says, fiercely, meeting Louis's eyes. "This has to work."
Louis still gets flashbacks to the thoughts he'd seen when the box was open, of London in flames, awash in blood, humans but a figment of the past. "I know," he says, fervently. He's got to be strong for them. He hasn't made things terribly easy for either of them since the first time he snooped through Harry's flat; it's the least he can do to try to start now. "Good thing we're all too pretty to lose to Ed's great ugly mug, right?" He chucks a finger under Harry's chin, tickling him there until Harry smiles, grudgingly.
"You do make a good point," Harry allows.
"I make an excellent point," says Louis. "Anyway, we've got a week to sort all this out. How about you show me that thrusting pattern with this great big sword again? And then you can show me and Liam a thrusting pattern with your great big dick."
"I do like the sound of that," Liam interjects.
"You drive a hard bargain," Harry says, but his frown is etched into his forehead a little less deeply, and he presses a soft kiss to Louis's mouth before he steps back to retrieve the sword.
—-
It gets even more complicated when other Slayers start trickling in. Their team is in charge — home ground advantage — but it doesn't seem that way, what with all the personalities in the room. Eleanor-from-Brighton wants them to put as many Slayers in the room as possible, and Dani-from-Manchester thinks it makes more sense to set the extra Slayers up nearby, but not in the same building, in case they need the backup support.
Louis isn't even taking charge of any of the logistics beyond getting tickets for the final agreed-upon number and he's already getting a migraine.
"I don't know how he does it," he confides to Liam, as they watch Harry smile blithely at yet another Slayer-Watcher duo and explain why they're not to deviate from his original plan.
"He hasn't got any other alternative," Liam says, running her thumb over Louis's knuckles until he tilts his hand enough to the slide that she can slip her fingers through his. She looks at him sidewise. "You'd tell me, right? If this was getting to you more than it maybe should."
Guilt swells up in Louis, hot and rancid. "It's scary," he admits. "I didn't realise how scary it could get. But I have faith in us."
That's all true, after all. He just doesn't mention that he's got greater faith that most of them won't make it out alive.
"Me and Harry've stopped apocalypses before," Liam tells him. "And that was when there was just two of us."
The thing is, Louis has been wondering, lately, if he'd be this caught up in the outcome of the battle to come if he hadn't been able to hear how Harry and Liam both feel about him. "You're such a badass," he tells her, smiling faintly.
"We've got you now, too," Liam says, pointedly. "You don't just get in the way, you know."
"It feels like that sometimes," Louis admits. "But I know. I've carried me own weight a time or two."
"You have," Liam says, and right there, in the milling crowd of Slayers in from out of town, popping by the hotel suite the Watcher's council rented for them all — to Niall's great relief; she hadn't wanted a crowd of violence-happy anti-werewolf girls in the next flat over — Liam leans in and kisses Louis right on the lips.
"Well, this is interesting," a voice says from right behind them. "Payno, I thought you were going out with my brother."
Brother? Louis thinks, as Liam pulls back and gives the stranger a bit of a frown. "I am," she says, defensively.
Wait. What?
Before Louis can voice any of his confusion, though, Harry's interrupting the incredibly involved conversation he was having with another Watcher and running full-speed across the room to where Louis and Liam are sat. He crashes into the woman behind them and pulls her into a bear hug, ruffling up her white-blonde bob as he does so.
"You must be Gemma," Louis realises, as the hug enters into its second full minute.
"Are you a new Watcher?" she asks, disentangling from Harry's grip to shake Louis's hand.
"No, I'm Harry and Liam's token civilian," he says.
Harry slings an arm around Louis's shoulders. "Louis here is the one who figured out who our guy was in the first place," he says, stroking his thumb over Louis's collarbone. It's warm and reassuring, and Louis relaxes into the touch.
Gemma gives them both a shrewd look. "Pleased to meet you," she tells Louis. "Harry — a word? I want to be caught up on everything."
—-
The morning of the apocalypse dawns bright and warm; it's the sunniest day London has seen all month.
"Unfair," Louis groans, staring at the way the light slants in between the curtains in Harry's bedroom. "Where's the thematically appropriate doom and gloom?"
"Presumably in Camden," Liam says, leaning in for a kiss, morning breath be damned.
By the time they stagger out of bed, fully dressed and only a little bit debauched, Harry has prepared breakfast for the three of them, plus Niall and Zayn. "I've got lunch with the other Slayers and them," he reminds everyone as they tuck into scrambled eggs and beans on toast. "Lou, you're going to work today, right?"
"Yeah, to tail Ed," Louis confirms. "You know, if he shows up."
"I'm doing reconnaissance," says Liam. "Making sure we can get everything we need into the venue."
"I've got my old pack," Niall chimes in. "We're ready to stand guard just outside, and shift to fight if we need to." She pauses. The solemnity of her expression looks entirely out of place on her face, with the laugh lines just starting to form around her eyes and mouth. "But only if we've got binding confirmation that no one on your end will try to slay us mid-fight."
"We've all promised under spell and oath," Liam reassures her.
"Zayn, you're still okay with your role, right?"
Zayn nods at Harry. He's to remain out of the thick of the fight, in a building far enough away that it won't be in the blasting zone, should worst come to worst. A proper witch that Gemma knows will have Zayn linked up telepathically with some key team members so that he can let them know immediately if he has any kind of prophetic impressions at any point during the night.
"Right," Niall says, and twists the corner of her mouth into a brave semblance of a smile. "One last round of sex apiece before we all go off, then?"
Harry's knuckles go white, and Louis flashes back to his hangup about famous last words. "Nah," he says, loudly, reaching out to cover Harry's hand with his own. "We can save that for after we beat this bastard."
"Hear, hear," says Liam, and Louis tries not to think about how he'll probably never have sex again.
Zayn pulls Louis aside on his way out the door. "Hey, bro," he says, quietly.
"What's up?" Louis asks. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, just —" Zayn blinks, runs a hand through his hair. "Had this dream last night. Thought I should let you know that those spells you've been learning for swords edges? Think they work for axes, too."
"Um, thanks," Louis says. He's seen the kinds of dreams Zayn has; if an image stood out that strongly to Zayn, Louis would do well to take heed. "I'll keep that in mind."
"It's really important that you do," Zayn says and then, to Louis's surprise, he pulls Louis in for a hug. "I love you, man."
"Love you too, bro," Louis tells him, and squeezes extra hard.
—
It’s quiet as they make their way to Camden, where it is, unfortunately, still ridiculously sunny. Louis’s situated himself firmly between Harry and Liam, holding both of their hands in a white-knuckled grip. Gemma sits across from them, keeps glancing from their hands to Harry’s face. She rolls her eyes eventually and leans forward.
"The world’s not going to end if you tell them how you feel, baby brother,” she says, not unkindly. Harry’s cheeks pink up, and he looks away. Louis squeezes his hand extra tight.
They make it to the venue eventually, all of them filtering in and showing their invitations and IDs to the bouncer. Louis wonders briefly if the bouncer’s one of Ed’s demon cronies, but he figures that’s not really important yet. If he has to end up fighting them, he will. Or one of the other Slayers will, or one of the wolves they've got lingering outside the club. If it's a bridge that needs crossing, someone will eventually cross it.
Harry tugs Louis and Liam to the back of the line, worrying his lower lip between his teeth so hard that it blooms red when he lets it go. Christ, Louis wishes they’d had sex.
"I just —” Harry starts, but stops. He takes a deep breath and instead of speaking, grabs Liam and kisses her, fingers threading up into her hair. Liam’s smiling when they break apart, and Harry turns to Louis and kisses him as well. It feels meaningful, like this is Harry telling them he loves them without saying it. Louis kisses back the best he can, squeezing Harry’s hips and thinking I love you I love you I love you as hard as he can and hoping Harry hears him.
Fuck, if they make it through this alive, Louis will tell them.
—
Ed takes the stage less than an hour after people start to arrive. He comes out from behind a curtain with a beat up acoustic guitar and wearing a tank top and cut off shorts.
"What the fuck,” Louis says because he looks like a bum. "Far cry from a monkey suit, that’s for sure.”
Liam shrugs. "It’s his aesthetic, I guess. Don’t question it. Besides, it’ll probably make the transformation easier.”
Huh. Probably. Still, Louis wasn’t expecting to see Ed’s pasty, freckled skin today. "Think I might prefer the demon form.”
"Don’t be rude,” Liam says, elbowing him. "Just because he’s pure evil doesn’t mean you’ve got to insult his face.”
"Alright, alright, Christ, I’m sorry,” Louis says, holding his hands up in defeat. "But I do think it’s apt he’s a redhead, pre-Ascension.”
"Very true,” Harry says, handing Louis a drink. "I can’t believe we missed that clue. The ‘red-heads have no soul’ thing. Classic.”
Liam rolls her eyes, taking the drink Harry’s offered. They’re plain Cokes, because no one wants to risk being even slightly intoxicated when he Ascends. Which is a (necessary) bummer - Louis could definitely go for some liquid courage right about now.
The energy is tense as Ed sits down on his stool and pulls the microphone toward himself. "I just want to say thank you to everyone who’s here and who’s still coming in. I love playing music and appreciate that you can recognise my genius, unlike those idiot record execs.” He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner and a few people laugh. Louis rolls his eyes. Harry snorts.
"Christ, is he doing all this because he didn’t get a record deal?” Liam asks, incredulous.
"You wouldn’t believe how petty people can be,” Harry says. "Or how ambitious.”
Liam sighs and they all turn back to the stage where Ed has begun strumming his guitar. Louis figures Ed will play a song or two and then give up the ghost and transform. Or, Ascend or whatever. Except, two songs pass and Ed keeps playing. And playing, and playing some more.
"Oh good god," Louis groans. "He's actually going to do his entire act first? That's truly evil."
"I quite like his music," Liam says, offended, and then winces miserably as she takes in what she just said. "D'you think he's cast a spell so that I like it?"
"Nah," says Louis. The music sounds dead awful to his ears. "Then I'd have to like it too, wouldn't I?" He shudders as Ed launches into yet another song. "Whiny guitar singing. Not my style."
Harry sighs at the both of them and wraps them up under his arms while they listen. The music isn’t objectively bad. Louis supposes. Some of it’s rather jaunty and very interesting rhythmically, even if it's not to his precise taste, so Louis can only assume that Ed didn’t get a record deal because of his personality, or something. Who knows. He'd take the regular assault on his ears if it meant the world wasn't going to potentially end tonight, though, that's for certain.
Finally, Ed ends and stands up to take a bow. Louis doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he's more than ready to get this show on the road.
"Thanks for listening,” Ed says, "Now who’s hungry?” Some people in the audience cheer — probably the humans who saw the invite and didn’t realise what was going to happen, those poor souls — and Ed grins. "Great,” he says, setting down his guitar. "Let’s eat.”
Louis isn't sure what he expected from an Ascension. Buffy and Rupert described the one they witnessed to him, and it has sounded grotesque, but watching Ed’s head split in half and a giant black, multi-headed creature emerge is truly horrendous. He's got great leathery wings that protrude from his back and a long, long neck with three faces. All of them have got a tuft of reddish fur atop their heads.
"Can I call him ugly now?” Louis asks, and then all Hell breaks loose.
It's true chaos, unlike Louis has ever experienced. There's people running about and screaming, all the Slayers and Watchers immediately forgetting everything they've been training for in the past week and a half and trying their hardest to get a good punch or kick or spell in on Ed. Louis watches Eleanor-from-Brighton jump on his back and drive a large sword at the base of his neck. It has no effect and Ed throws Eleanor back into the fray and Louis loses sight of her.
"Shit,” Louis says, and repeats when Ed picks up a Slayer from a different part of London, one who Louis doesn't know but Liam talks about all the time. Ed eats her in two bites, blood spurting from his mouth. A few hot droplets of it fall on Louis's arm, and he freezes.
"Come on,” Liam says, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. "Stick to the plan.”
"Right," says Louis, and shoves a screaming human man in Gemma's general direction. "One for you!" he shouts, thrusting his way into the fray to remind everyone he passes that they've got to set up a perimeter for Liam to do her job.
He doesn't want to let go of Liam's hand, particularly after watching Ed consume another of her kind like she was nothing, nothing at all, just a mild inconvenience on an otherwise normal day full of evil and horror and general asshattery and dickheadishness. But Liam smiles back at him and says, "We've got this," and presses the quickest of kisses against his mouth — more accurately, the corner of it.
Louis gives her hand a squeeze and lets her throw herself into the thick of the fighting, swinging her giant sword at Ed and yelling. He watches her for half a second before running up to Dani and pulling her away from where she's trying to bodily rip off Ed's leathery wings.
"Someone's coming to help," he yells, over the din in the room, pointing at where the doors to the venue have opened up and a flock of indescribably gross monsters are flooding through the walls. They're opportunistic shits, they are, wanting to see the eradication of humans in London. Like Ascensions have historically spared non-Ascended evil beings, or something (they haven't, but Louis isn't about to tell the idiot demons that). "We have to stop them!"
Dani nods at him and runs after them, pulling her crossbow off her shoulder and fitting a bolt to it as she goes.
Distantly, Louis hears the howls of wolves, but then there's a hand on his shoulder and he whirls.
"You know that face bumpies are, like, extremely last year, right?" he asks the vampire that's trying to pull him into a position where it can sink its teeth into his neck, and slams one of his stakes into its heart with as much force as he can muster.
He stumbles through the cloud of dust, knocked off balance from the force of his thrust and the disappearance of the support of the vampire's body, and falls into Harry, who's got a knife in one hand and a spellbook in the other and is chanting, desperately, in Ed's general direction.
Louis freezes. He doesn't want to interrupt Harry by asking how he's doing, or even squeezing Harry's shoulder in support, so he looks around them, instead. Eleanor is struggling to her feet in the corner of the room. "Help me!" he calls to her, crouching into a fighting stance, his back to Harry's, without waiting to see if she responds. He can't see the way that Harry keeps trying to direct spell after spell at Ed to get him to slow down from here. He can't see the way Liam is darting in and landing blows, here and there, over and over, trying to weaken Ed enough to dart in and do some real damage.
Maybe that's for the best, though, because he can see the way that the rest of the slayers in the room, and their fighting companions, are keeping the forces of darkness at bay. They're slowly carving an area out around Liam and Ed so that his Ascended form is the only thing she has to contend with. When he looks toward the exit, Gemma is shuttling the last of the intact humans out of the doors and then joining the wolves, milling around outside, keeping the demons from beating any kind of effective retreat away from the fighting. Niall's golden-furred form launches at a goatlike demon while he watches and rips its arm off.
And then there's a roar, and a handful of vampires surges at him just as Eleanor reaches his side. "You take the one on the right," she tells him. "I'll get the four on the left."
Louis doesn't argue; that's a fairly equitable division for a normal person and a Slayer. "Keep him safe," he tells her, jerking his head back at Harry, and darts in at the vampire.
He doesn't land a killing blow immediately. It takes a few abortive strikes, and then the vampire knocks his stake out of his hand and all he's left with is the sword he'd practiced spelling and laced with potions. The vampire laughs at him. "You can't run me through the heart with that," it says. "It'll never work."
"No," Louis agrees. He takes the hilt of the sword in both hands and swings it around, hacking at the vampire's neck until the sword bites clean through, severing its head from its body. "But decapitation also works," he reminds the pile of ash at his feet.
Before he can even straighten up, though, a giant mass knocks into him. He's airborne in seconds, grabbed around the waist by a giant… something or another. It looks rather like the Creature of the Black Lagoon, but Harry'd told him once that wasn't based on any kind of myth, legend, or truth.
"Fuck off," he tells it, stabbing it with his sword. The sword lodges deep in the thing's side, and it screeches, high-pitched and ear-splitting. Then Louis is flying through the air, hands totally empty, flung off into some corner far from Harry and Liam and the thick of the battle.
Louis’s breath is knocked out of him as he hits the wall, his arm smashing into the box with the fire extinguisher. It seems to be alright, just a nasty cut and what'll probably be a nasty bruise tomorrow. If he makes it to tomorrow. God, whatever, there are more important things to worry about right now. He's got to make sure that Harry and Liam stay alive. Short of that, he's got to make sure that they do enough that humanity can survive.
He stands shakily, allowing himself ten seconds of deep breathing so that he can get his bearings on the room. His first inclination is to take the extinguisher and spray it at the monsters surrounding Harry, but when he looks over, Eleanor seems to have a handle on it. The not-Creature of the Black Lagoon is in a puddle of gross black-green ichor on the floor, and she's got Louis's sword in hand now, brandishing it at the remaining vampires. They're trying to back away, even, but the other Slayers fighting other demons are stopping their retreat. Harry is a full few feet away from any of the fighting now, shouting his spells out louder and louder, light flashing off his knife as he waves it in Ed's general direction.
Liam is still struggling to gain purchase with Ed, though. As Louis watches, she lands a blow on her knee, only for him to reach forth with a great ugly claw and knock her back a few paces.
I can do something there, Louis thinks. He'll be getting in the way less if he helps Liam now than if he helps anyone else, probably. As Liam works her way back to her feet, as Harry starts reaching a kind of crescendo, Louis grabs the fire extinguisher and raises it above his head.
"Oi, fuckface!”
Ed’s three heads turn to look at him.
"You're a shite barrister and an even worse demon!” Louis shouts, and launches the fire extinguisher at him.
It lands a good foot away from him and rolls. Ed watches it, picks it up with a claw and launches it out the window.
Well. That was anticlimactic, but at least Harry's had an opportunity to finish the spell. He releases his hold on the knife and it flies directly at where Ed's heart — if, indeed, Ascended beings have hearts — lays.
It lodges itself deep in his flesh, and Ed shivers a little, but keeps standing.
Meanwhile, Liam has made her way back up to him. She's holding her massive sword, the grim determination on her face belying exactly how ready she is to fight him for once and for all. As she lifts the sword, Ed redirects his attention to her.
From where Louis is standing, he can see one of Ed's wings rising, angling around to where it will be able to wrap around Liam. From where she's standing, there's no way that she'll be able to see it before it's too late.
Louis looks around for something, anything to help and spots the emergency axe.
God I hope you're right, Zayn, he thinks and thrusts his hand through the glass that his head broke — shards be damned — and pulls it out. He performs the sharpening spell on it as quickly as he can, already starting to run before the last of the words are out of his mouth.
His mother had always made him promise to never run with sharp, pointy objects, and if he somehow, through some miracle, makes it out of this alive, he still won't be able to apologise to her for breaking her biggest commandment. He sends a prayer up in case she's listening somewhere and, holding the axe a little bit away from his body, runs faster.
There's a broken-down table at the edge of the stage. Louis climbs up on top of it, and yells at Ed again.
"Louis," Ed says. His voice sounds mostly the same, but it's bigger, somehow, and it grates on Louis's ears like nothing has ever done before. "I thought we were mates."
His wing is still moving toward Liam. "We were never mates," Louis shouts, and then he launches himself onto Ed's back.
Ed screeches as Louis starts hacking away at the wings. They flutter, pounding the air strong enough that anyone standing within the room — human, Slayer, and monster alike — stumbles in the force of the air. Everyone except Liam, who has thrust her sword into the floor and is holding herself upright, as if for dear life.
She pulls it free and stabs at his legs and belly while Louis swings the axe down, again, at Ed's wings. Ed rears back and Louis manages to hold on, wrapping his legs around Ed's neck and thrusting his hand through the ruff of red fur on the back of one of Ed's heads.
He watches, horrified,.as Ed gets hold of Liam — sword and all — with one of his disgusting claw-hands, and starts to pull her up.
"No!”
Tightening his grip on Ed's middle neck with his legs, Louis leans over and starts hacking at one of the other two heads. It takes a few strokes, but eventually, he manages to cut through it cleanly. Liam is still caught, though, so he moves onto the next, the warm blood splattering on his face and arms and chest. The second falls off and Louis starts on the head attached to the neck he's currently latched around, his arms and chest burning from the exertion.
Ed lets out a terrible scream as Louis hacks the last head off, but it cuts off, abrupt, as Louis works his way through the last of the sinews. His body gives a massive lurch, throwing Louis off his back, and Louis lands hard on the floor, wind knocked out of him.
"Fuck,” he breathes, shaking, but at least, in his convulsions, Ed has released Liam and she's slowly pulling herself to her feet. "Fuck.”
—
It's easy enough after that. Most of the smaller bads attempt to vacate the premises under their own steam, only to be taken in by the pack of good werewolves and reserve Slayers.
At least, Louis assumes that's what happens. Once he's clocked that no one is actively trying to kill them, he crawls his way over to where Liam is holding herself upright by clinging tight to another half-broken table. "Are you okay?" he asks, frantically, pulling himself up next to her and kissing her before she even has a chance to try and reply. "Are you?"
"I'm alive," she assures him, and then: "You're alive," and then: "You saved my life." She kisses him again. Their faces are smeared with all manner of disgusting demon bodily substances, so it's a close-mouthed kiss, but Louis wouldn't be able to stop if you paid him a billion pounds.
Harry limps over. He avoided a lot of the physical fighting, but he still looks exhausted from all the hard spellcasting work. "I'm not sure," he starts, and frowns, looking anxiously at Liam. "I'm not entirely sure that he's dead. Like, we cut off his heads, but — this kind of Old One has never been called forth with an Ascension before, as far as the written record goes. It's possible that chopping his heads off only stopped him for a little while."
Liam looks green at the thought. "So… what do we do, then?"
"You can't come back if you're ash," Louis says, and when they look at him, he says: "What?"
He still can't get over how they're all alive. How they're mostly in one piece. He's pretty sure he's cracked a few ribs, but he can breathe and he can kiss Liam — or Harry — and that's more than he ever expected from this night.
"No, it's just — you've given me an idea," says Harry.
Before they can implement it, they have to help with clean-up. There's still a little bit of fighting in the streets, but of more pressing concern are the humans who didn't make it out of the venue. Some of them have been bitten, and a few Slayers carry them off to keep them under surveillance to see if they turn.
Others seem to just be concussed, or to have passed out from the shock of the Ascension or from blood loss. Gemma and her Watcher, a similarly-blonde woman called Lou, carry these people out into the street and a few blocks down, where Zayn stands watch with Niall and her wolfy friends until emergency services can arrive.
Harry — the most intact one of their group — drags Ed's three heads to different corners of the room, and waits for Gemma to come back with some of the emergency explosives they'd left in that car a few blocks away. Louis helps him stuff small amounts into each of the heads, wincing as he digs out enough gross demon-flesh to pack it in. Liam handles the body, making cuts along Ed's flanks and shoving more stuff in there.
When she's done, she douses the entire thing with lighter fluid.
Eleanor finishes the inventory of casualties by the time Harry, Liam and Louis are finished with their tasks. "Just the one Slayer," she tells them. "A few humans. That's it. Everyone else is alive." She smiles, tremulously. "We fucking did it. We survived."
Eleanor herself is a little worse for wear, just like the rest of them, but. Ultimately, they're all fine.
"Better yet," Louis says, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he'll live to be with Harry and Liam another day — that, more than that, he was the one who, arguably, saved the day here. "Ed certainly won't be, ever again."
Pair by pair the Watchers and their Slayers leave the premises, going home to nurse their wounds and hide out, far from the source of action. No one wants to be questioned about what's happened here. How on earth could they even explain it? All the weird demon bodies. All the vampire dust.
The fire that's about to break out.
Harry promises each pair that he'll reach out and check in within the next few days, and soon enough, it's just the three of them standing in there. Niall comes in, shifting back to her naked human form, and Zayn follows her.
"The wounded got picked up," he tells them, and smiles at Louis. "How did the axe work out for you?"
"Fan-fucking-tastic," Louis tells him, with a wolfish grin. He debates giving Zayn a hug, but he's too busted up and filthy for that. "Cheers for that suggestion."
"My pleasure," says Zayn. He tenses then, and cocks his head. "We should go now, if we want to get out of here without any, like. Police trouble."
"Let's go home,” Harry says. They all follow him out.
Liam, the last one to leave, flicks on a Zippo lighter at the door. She throws it behind her, and they all walk away, flames licking up behind them.
—
They fall into bed once they make it back to the flat. Louis doesn’t even bother to wash off the blood and dirt and grime before they’re all huddling together and passed out.
The sun’s streaming through the curtains when they he wakes up, and he sits up gingerly on the bed. His arms are throbbing like mad, and so is the rest of his body. He feels like he’s been put through a ringer. He can’t even imagine how Harry and Liam feel.
He grunts as he tries to free himself from the blankets, but Harry’s arm sticks out and pulls him back down. He grunts again as he hits the mattress and stares at Harry’s face.
"Why,” he croaks. Harry doesn’t answer, instead just leans forward to kiss him.
"I’m so glad you’re alive,” he says when they pull apart. Louis’s still a bit dazed, but he nods anyway.
"Same, both of you. I —” He turns over, checking to see if Liam’s awake and she is, if barely, her gaze catching lazily on his. "I have something I need to say.”
Harry’s brow furrows and he pushes himself closer, sitting up when Louis pushes himself up against the headrest. Liam sits up as well, looking at him curiously. Louis takes a deep breath. It’s not hard to find the words because he knows exactly what he wants to tell them, what exactly it is that they deserve to hear, but it’s still big. It’s a big thing. He’d said he’d do it though, if they all survived. They need to know it.
"I love you,” he says, "Like, I’m in love with you. Both of you. And I know you probably guessed already, but I just thought it might be nice to hear me say it, or something.”
It’s quiet for a long, long stretch and Louis knows they love him too, has heard it in their heads enough times, but he’d still like to hear it.
He feels Liam’s hand on his before he looks at her, and she’s smiling when he finally does. "I love you too, Louis. More than I expected to. I love you both more than anything, alright?”
Louis nods and gives her a hug, leaning his mouth up for a kiss. He stays there for a bit, relishing in the happiness coursing through him. When he breaks away, they both turn to Harry with expectant looks on their faces.
"Of course I love you,” he says, cupping Louis’s cheek. "Both of you. I’ll never stop.”
Louis leans into kiss him, breaking away with a gasp and watching as Harry and Liam kiss. He feels right, good, better than he’s felt than any other time in his life, including the past few months he’s been with them. It’s reassuring to know they love him, that they’ll always love him and that he loves them. It’s better than reassuring. It’s everything. They’re everything to him.
"So,” Harry says, once he’s pulled back from Liam, a glint in his eye. "Who’s up for a shower?”
END.