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"Would it make this moment really weird if I kissed you?" Louis asks, the remnants of an exhilarated smile on his face as he looks down at Harry, casually pinning his arms to the ground.

They've been doing this all day. It's their first Friday off in forever, and they don't have anything to do on Saturday or Sunday, either, and the excitement has been overwhelming, to say the least. They keep tackling each other and wrestling for a while before collapsing into giggles on the floor.

This is the first time Louis has said that, though. Harry was sort of thinking the same, actually, and he's not sure what that says about him. Just, Louis looks really nice right now, flushed with exertion and smiling wide. Harry hums thoughtfully, looking back at him. It's strange how not strange this is. It's as though Louis's asked him any old question.

"I don't think so," he muses, shifting a little. Louis is straddling his thighs, and it's starting to hurt a bit. "If it's weird, we can just stop."

"That's what I was thinking," Louis agrees, and then he's shuffling down Harry's legs a little. He looks ridiculous, and Harry laughs, but then Louis kisses him and his laughter dies rapidly in his throat.

It's a little awkward at first, but not, Harry thinks, in some sort of kissing-his-friend way. The angle's just wrong. He automatically tilts his head to adjust it, and then their lips just fit together. Harry's not amused at all anymore, just curious and a little intrigued.

He doesn't know how far they're going to take this, whether it was just supposed to be a peck or if it's supposed to be getting deeper, if he's supposed to be parting his lips so that Louis's tongue can stroke past them, but it's happening whether he's supposed to or not, and Louis doesn't seem to mind.

One of them makes a quiet noise, Harry thinks it might've been him, but they're so fused together now that it could've come from either of their throats, and Louis isn't holding his arms to the floor. His hands have moved to cup Harry's cheeks, his thumbs stroking over his cheekbones and the tips of his fingers brushing the back of his neck.

Harry settles his newly freed hands at Louis's hips, but he's not paying much attention to them. Their kiss has become something Harry couldn't have anticipated at all, and suddenly he's all too warm but also coming over with shivers. Sometimes, their lips separate, and then Louis dips his head back down to lick into his mouth, suck on his tongue.

Harry's reluctant to break it, but he's pretty sure they have to. It seems to be mutual, because Louis is just pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to his lips now, and Harry lets the last one linger before sighing and bonelessly settling back on the floor. His eyes are still closed but he's too relaxed to open them.

"Wow," Harry hears Louis breathe, and he opens his eyes to see Louis peering down at him, even more flushed than he had been and looking wonderfully ruffled. Louis seems to catch himself then, clearing his throat and giving Harry an aloof look. "Not bad, Curly."

"Not-" he sputters, grinning and pushing at Louis's chest until he manages to get him onto his back, and then they're just rolling around on the floor again, growling at each other playfully and being entirely too ridiculous. It's pretty much perfect.


"So, earlier," Louis starts, and Harry already knows which part of earlier he's going to talk about, so he leans up onto his elbow on the sofa, looking down at Louis on the floor. He's not sure why Louis is on the floor. He is sure Louis would have a reason if he asked, but Harry's pretty content to just let Louis be Louis.

"Earlier," Harry prods when Louis doesn't continue. Louis isn't looking at him, and actually, as Harry looks closer, he thinks Louis might be blushing. Must be a trick of the light, though, because Louis doesn't blush at anything.

"Earlier," Louis says, swallowing. "That was, I really liked that." He looks nervous, but Harry can't imagine why. They were both there, both willing participants. It's not like Harry's going to be a twat about it now.

"So did I," he agrees, sparing a glance to where Alan Carr is still chattering away on the television. "Glad it was mutual."

"Yeah, I." Louis finally looks up and meets his eyes. As they look at each other, Harry notices that Louis's shoulders relax a little, and he looks less tense. "I was thinking, you know, we've never really established the - boundaries of our friendship, if you will." He makes some sort of movement with his hands that's probably supposed to convey the word boundaries, but Harry's too busy being confused to try and decipher it.

"I - just assumed we didn't have any," he says slowly, tugging at one of the strings coming loose from the stitching of the couch. "We've never really... I mean, we're just us, aren't we?"

"I've been wanting to do that again all day," Louis says in response, and the tone of his voice makes it sound like a confession. "And I wasn't sure if you'd be alright with that."

Harry feels a sort of rush in his chest, a spark, it feels like, and he's a little breathless as he thinks back to how that kiss made him feel, warm and shivery all over. Doing it again is definitely not something he's averse to. "I think I'd be alright with that, yeah." He's trying for casual, but his voice is lower than it normally is, he can tell. He wonders if Louis can.

From the expression on Louis's face, he did. His eyes are wider than usual, and he licks his lips a little. The movement makes Harry shift uncomfortably, and then press his hips down into the couch.

"Can I do it now?" Louis asks, scooting closer to the sofa and moving onto his knees. Harry barely has time to nod before they're kissing again.

They don't waste any time, quickly becoming engrossed in the position. Again, it's slightly awkward, because Harry's on the couch and Louis, well, isn't. But it's still so good, better than it has any right being. Louis rests his hand below Harry's ribs and Harry tangles one in Louis's hair, using it to tilt his head to achieve a better angle and then oh, yes.

It feels like they've been doing this forever. They should've been, at least, Harry thinks appreciatively, his tongue curling around Louis's. It would've relieved a lot of stress, or something.

"Mmm," he hears Louis murmur, and while he never really wants to stop doing this, they should probably stop before they do cross some unspoken boundary, so he strokes the tip of his tongue over Louis's one more time before slumping back on the couch, smiling lazily.

Louis looks just as debauched as he did the first time. Kiss-ravished is a good look for him, Harry notices absently, running his fingers through the ends of Louis's hair before removing his hand entirely. Maybe they should make out sometimes before shows, the girls would just throw themselves at the stage to get to him.

"Yeah," Louis sighs, leaning heavily against the front of the couch. "Yeah, I really like doing that. We should do that more often."

Harry couldn't agree more, and he makes sure Louis knows it, dragging him into another kiss and nearly falling off the couch onto him. Instead, he yanks at him until Louis is laughing too hard to kiss. Louis does crawl up onto the couch with him, though, resting between his legs but carefully avoiding any groin contact as they start kissing again.

Harry slowly realizes that they have, technically, all weekend to explore this new development in their friendship. He's sure it'll be time well spent.


"You two are the gayest non-gays I've ever met."

Zayn's voice is parts amused and perplexed, and Harry mumbles, stretching his arms in a yawn. There's a weight on his chest, but he'll figure out why that is when he's not as incoherent.

"How'd you even get in?" he hears Louis mumble grouchily, and oh, that's the weight on his chest. He guesses they must've fallen asleep mid-kiss last night.

"I've got a key." Zayn's voice is patient. "You wanted someone to have an extra and you knew Liam would check in all the time and Niall would steal all your food, so I was the obvious choice. Get up, entertain me."

Harry blinks his eyes open, meeting Louis's instantly. They're very blue, he notices. And sleepy, drooping a little. It's kind of cute, or it would be if Harry ever thought such things about Louis.

Louis is smiling, and Harry belatedly realizes that he is as well, the corners of his mouth undeniably curved. They don't say anything, just looking at each other until Zayn huffs, leaning over to flick Louis in the back of the head.

"Hey, stop staring longingly at each other and make me breakfast," he says expectantly, raising his eyebrows until, grumbling, Louis untangles himself from Harry's limbs and pads into the kitchen.

"Y'know, you're the one barging into our flat, you should be making us breakfast," comes his voice amidst the clanking of pots and pans. "Toast is the extent of my culinary abilities unless Harry's helping." He pokes his head out the doorway, giving Harry a pointed look until Harry decides that yes, he'd quite like to help, thank you.

He lifts himself off the couch, and Zayn immediately takes his spot, lounging back on it and flicking on the television. "I want eggs!" he calls, grinning when Harry tugs off one of his slippers to throw at him.

The moment Harry steps into the kitchen, Louis's arm is winding around his waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his lips. It's gentle, and not at all like the ones they'd shared the previous night. Louis's hand is stroking the bare skin of his hip where his shirt's ridden up, and it just feels really, really nice.

"Morning," Louis murmurs when they break apart, smiling hopefully at him. Harry smiles back and returns the sentiment, pulling Louis into a short hug and then stepping past him to get the eggs out of the refrigerator.

"Do we have any eggs?" he asks, bending to peer into the lower shelves. "I think we used them up yesterday."

"Yeah, probably," Louis says carelessly, raising his voice. "We're out of eggs, your majesty. Fancy going to the shop to get more?"

Zayn shouts something that sounds rude back at them, so Harry assumes toast will be fine. He puts a few slices into the toaster, pressing them down and then jumping when he turns to see Louis standing right behind him.

"Hi," he says softly, a small smile on his face as Louis grips the counter on either side of him. "Did you want some too?"

Louis laughs, and then they're kissing again. Harry thinks he might've been the one to initiate it, because Louis actually starts a little before settling into it. Harry sighs, sucking on Louis's tongue and thinking he actually tastes more like morning breath than anything else, and he shouldn't really be enjoying this because of that fact alone, but he is enjoying it, so he decides not to question it.

The toast pops up in what seems like no time at all, and Louis makes a quiet noise of protest, leaning in even harder to Harry and then seeming to realize what he's doing and leaning away with a sheepish smile.

Louis really needs to stop looking so debauched after they do this, Harry notes absently, turning in the tight space between Louis's arms and standing on his toes to grab a plate to put the toast on. Harry smiles to himself when Louis simply wraps his arms around his waist, pressing his cheek between Harry's shoulderblades while Harry spreads butter on the toast.

Louis kisses the back of his neck before removing his arms to let Harry take the plate out to Zayn, and it makes Harry shiver so hard he knows Louis can feel it.

Zayn looks at him suspiciously when Harry hands him the plate. "You look way too happy," he informs him, popping one of the slices into his mouth. "You obviously didn't work hard enough," he mumbles around it before biting down.

"I worked very hard, I'll have you know," Harry huffs, folding his arms over his chest. "Do you know how hard it is to know how long to leave the toast in for? I'm exhausted." He pretends to swoon.

"Whatever. Tell Louis to make me some tea, wouldja?" Zayn smiles innocently when Harry huffs again, but it's not like he minds going back into the kitchen. The kitchen is where Louis is, after all, and kissing seems to happen often when he and Louis have been in the same place lately.

He traipses back over, ducking through the doorway and smiling when Louis mutters something about already having put the kettle on before yanking him into another kiss. This is going to be a very interesting weekend.


Louis accosts him twice more before Zayn leaves, once outside the bathroom and then again when Harry's changing his t-shirt. That one had been interesting, trying to keep kissing as his arms are getting progressively more tangled in the sleeves and eventually they just dissolve into laughter until Harry loops his bound hands behind Louis's neck and pulls him into another kiss.

Zayn's caught on to the fact that there's something weird going on. It'd be pretty hard for him not to have, when every other minute one of them is grinning maniacally at the other and then muffling laughter. He excuses himself after about an hour, mumbling something about seeing what Liam's up to.

After the door closes behind him, Louis and Harry remain where they are, both staring at the closed door for a few moments until Harry bubbles over with laughter, springing at Louis and grinning when they both tumble over onto the floor.

They spend a few minutes just rolling around, trying to pin each other down, exchanging wide smiles and smacks round the head as easily as treading water. They segue into kissing almost seamlessly, Harry half on top of Louis and panting a little as he connects their lips.

Louis whines a little when he does it, and Harry's almost positive it's the hottest thing he's ever heard in his life. He kisses him harder, sucking on his lower lip until Louis makes a breathy sound and strokes his own tongue out over Harry's cupid's bow. Harry groans then, he's pretty sure, muffled into Louis's mouth but audible all the same.

Harry's thigh is pressed snug between Louis's, so it's not really surprising when he feels something there he's not really used to feeling when he's kissing someone. Louis is hard, pressing just below Harry's hip, and it feels really weird, but Harry's bizarrely proud that he's managed to cause that reaction in Louis.

He doesn't really know what to do with other peoples' cocks, so he doesn't do anything, simply keeping his leg where it is and kissing Louis that much harder.

It always seems to happen mutually when they end it, deciding by unspoken agreement to slow down, kiss a little more gently, relax against each other. Harry sucks on Louis's tongue one more time before sighing and simply resting on top of him, his face in the crook of Louis's neck. Louis smells like he always does, like that fruity shampoo he likes and a little like that stupidly expensive Gucci stuff he wears from time to time.

"Are you sniffing me?" Louis mumbles, running his hand down Harry's back. "S'a bit gay, Hazza."

"You just had your tongue in my mouth, I think we've gone past 'a bit gay'," Harry replies, nuzzling his nose into the hair above Louis's ear. "And you smell nice."

He feels Louis smile against the curve of his throat. "Thanks," he says quietly, rucking up Harry's shirt in the back and running his hand up under it. He remains quiet for a moment, just running his fingers over Harry's skin, but Harry stays silent. He's pretty sure Louis isn't done talking, and besides, that feels really good.

"Is it?" Louis says suddenly, startling Harry out of his reverie. He hums in question and Louis clarifies. "Gay, this. Is it?"

Harry thinks about it, folding his arms on Louis's chest and setting his chin on top of them. "Well, we're not," he says slowly, sure of at least that. "I mean, I definitely still like girls."

"Yeah, me too." Louis swallows. Harry watches the movement of his throat. "I just... You know. I like you too." He looks a bit sheepish and Harry thinks maybe he's wondering if Harry had felt him pressing against his thigh before.

"I like you too, too." Harry laughs softly. "Don't think about it too hard. It's just us, you know? I think maybe we work differently from other people. It's not like you want to go off and have a sexy romp with Zayn."

Louis wrinkles his nose, and Harry laughs again at his expression. "Definitely not. Alright, it's just another us thing, then?" He looks at Harry for confirmation.

"It's just another us thing," Harry confirms, pecking him on the chin quickly and then making an aborted shrieking sound as Louis flips their positions, connecting their lips properly. He's really hoping they stop being so eager about this eventually, their inability to be not-kissing for more than ten minutes could really affect them in the studio.


They last another hour before it happens again. They're sitting on Louis's bed, pretending to be casual even though they both know what they'd rather be doing, and they're throwing each other glances every other moment. They're watching some video on Louis's laptop, until Louis sighs, reaches over and closes the lid.

"Did you actually watch any of that?" he asks, giving Harry a sideways glance, and Harry sees no reason to answer anything but honestly.

"Not a word," he admits, lips curling into a wry smile. "You?"

"Could've been donkey porn and I wouldn't have noticed," Louis agrees, bobbing his head once. "Wanna make out instead?"

"God, yes," Harry answers hoarsely. Louis leans in and pushes Harry back against the pillows, slinging one leg over his hips and then kissing him hard.

Kissing Louis is rapidly rising Harry's List of Good Things, currently right underneath actual sex and perfect cups of tea. He's sure at this point that he's memorized the taste of Louis's tongue, the feeling of his lips, but there are still new things every time it happens, something different Louis does when he flicks his tongue, or a different pressure than Harry's used to. He likes it; likes that Louis keeps it interesting.

Harry's hands roam down Louis's back, feeling it flex a little when Louis moves, and then settling them at his hips. Louis makes a quiet noise into his mouth, and Harry wonders if maybe he could get Louis to make it again. He's been so focused on being kissed that he's not paid nearly enough attention to kissing.

He curls his tongue around Louis's, tilting his head up into it and then biting down lightly on Louis's lower lip. Louis makes the sound from earlier again, this time more breathy and with a hint of a whine to it. It sparks something low in Harry's belly and he suddenly wants nothing more than to make Louis make that sound over and over and over again.

Harry shoves his hands up the back of Louis's shirt, then, after a moment, pushes it higher, grateful when Louis silently leans back and only looks at him for a few seconds before yanking his shirt off the rest of the way and then leaning down to reconnect their lips.

Kissing while one of them is shirtless is subtly different from kissing while neither of them is shirtless, and Harry rather likes the change. There's more of a charge between them than there usually is, and when he settles a hand on Louis's side, all he feels is warm, smooth skin instead of the rougher cloth of a t-shirt.

Louis pants into his mouth, muttering something that Harry only catches the end of because he's really bad at listening while he's being thoroughly kissed.

"- so fucking hot," is the tail end of Louis's sentence, and Harry goes warm all over, licking over Louis's lower lip and then back inside. He strokes his fingers up over Louis's stomach and then his chest. It's strange, kissing someone without breasts. He's never done that before. He plants his feet and then arches up a little, simply to feel his chest rub against Louis's. Yeah, that's different. He doesn't really mind, though, but he's almost positive that's not because it's a guy, it's because it's Louis.

Another thing he notices is that Louis is hard again, but avoiding pressing directly against Harry. It's okay, though, because Harry's hard as well, pressing insistently against the front of his pajama bottoms. He figures if Louis can ignore it, he can, too, and just kisses him harder, shivering when Louis lets out a genuine moan.

... He sounds a little like a porn star. Harry isn't sure if that's amusing or arousing, quite yet.

He weaves a hand into Louis's hair and tugs lightly. Louis moans again, and, arousing, Harry decides, definitely arousing.

"Fuck, you're good," Louis sighs, kissing Harry's lower lip. "So good..."

Harry raises his eyebrows a little. Alright, now that sounded like an actual line from a dirty video. A glance at Louis's expression shows him mischievous amusement, and, oh, is that how it's going to be?

Harry grins. Two can play at that game.

"Louis," he moans in as convincing a lustful tone as he can manage. It's not bad, actually, probably because he's still pretty revved up after that series of kisses. "Louis, you're so hot..."

Louis muffles a soft snort, absently rocking against Harry's stomach. He freezes a little once he realizes what he's done, and Harry doesn't move, not wanting to push at anything Louis doesn't want him to push at. After a moment, though, Louis shimmies his hips back a little, and when Harry looks up, he seems embarrassed, but he's smiling anyway.

Harry gives him a smile he really hopes says it's no problem, hooking his hands behind Louis's thighs and pulling until Louis slides back up to where he was.

They stay there in peaceful silence until-

"So good?" Harry asks incredulously. "You realize you're not actually in a dirty movie?"

"You're one to talk, Mister 'Louis you're so hot'," Louis mimics, shoving at his chest. "Even if it is true." He sighs dramatically, tossing his hair and laughing when Harry wrestles him off of his body, pinning him to the bed and then shouting in victory.

They degenerate into a rough-housing mess, each trying their best to outdo the other in their attempts at porn-worthy lines. Harry's particularly proud of "Take me, you fucking animal!"

Finally, Louis wins when he nearly screeches "Come on my fucking tits!" though Harry protests that it shouldn't count as Louis doesn't actually have tits.

Louis calls him a sore loser, and Harry just pouts until Louis kisses it off of his face.


Louis is biting his lip. That's the first thing Harry notices when he turns to see Louis in the doorway, and it's the one sure way Harry knows to tell he's nervous.

"Hey," he says slowly, dropping the shirt he's just removed to the floor. He was just getting changed for bed, but if Louis wants to talk about something, he's willing to postpone it no matter how sleepy he's become over the past half hour or so. It's not been a particularly productive day, but apparently being thoroughly kissed every twenty or so seconds is more exhausting than Harry would've assumed.

Louis, Harry notices, is already sporting his pajama bottoms, and is shifting from one bare foot to the other. "Hey," he says in return, remaining in the doorway.

"Did you need something?" Harry prods after a bit, shaking his hair out of his eyes. It's getting a little longer than he likes it, almost long enough that it's losing some of the curl. He'll need to get it cut... At some point, when their lives slow down to something a little less hectic. He sighs, jerking out of his thoughts when Louis speaks again.

"I was just... Wondering, y'know..." He rubs his arms, leaning against the doorjamb. "If... I could stay in here tonight," he finally says slowly, eyes lifting from where they were fixed on Harry's left shoulder to meet his. He's feigning nonchalance but Harry can see where his brow is drawn slightly taut with nerves.

This seems like an important moment. They've slept in the same bed before, of course they have, they all have, but this is different. They've never shared a bed after spending a day with their tongues in each others' mouths. They've never shared a bed after they've had a day of making each other hard. This is very different from the other times they've shared a bed, and Harry knows he should consider his answer carefully, but he's never been good at thinking about his actions.

"Yeah," he answers as casually as he can before bending to pick up his t-shirt from the floor to both have something to do with his hands and hide the flush he's pretty sure he can feel on his cheeks.

He hears Louis smile anyway, and then the bedsprings creak as Louis sits down. When Harry looks up, Louis is lying down, watching him. There's a strange look in his eyes, but Harry's pretty sure it's not bad.

They both know Harry usually sleeps naked, but he thinks that might be pushing it a little, so he takes off his sweatpants but leaves the shorts he's wearing underneath on. He doesn't know if the sigh he hears from Louis is relief or disappointment as he slips into the other side of the bed.

"Night, Lou," he says quietly, reaching over to turn off the lamp on his table, but when he settles back into position, Louis's arm is curving over his waist.

Harry smiles into the dark. It feels nice, this, nicer than it probably should. Or maybe not; after all, he and Louis have cuddled before and it always feels quite nice.

This is different, though, because they are different. Louis having an arm around him hasn't ever made these pleasant feelings bubble up in his stomach, hasn't made him set his hand on top of Louis's and lace their fingers.

Louis squeezes his hand anyway, then squirms closer, as close as he can get, Harry thinks. Louis kisses the back of his neck, gently, then again, leaving his lips there for what seems like forever. When he does stop, Harry feels him move and then press his lips against the side of Harry's neck, then again.

Louis continues leaving short, soft kisses on Harry's neck until Harry doesn't think he could possibly get any more relaxed. He's putty in Louis's hands, his body slowly sagging backwards until there's no space between them at all, and when Louis stops kissing the column of his throat, Harry turns his head automatically to accept the kiss Louis presses to his lips.

He sighs, keeping his eyes closed when Louis leans his forehead against Harry's temple.

"Goodnight, Harry," Louis says very quietly, the words sort of unintelligible as they're mumbled into Harry's jaw, but Harry hears anyway and laughs, squeezing the hand he still has tangled with Louis's.

"Don't grope me in my sleep," he replies in a voice that's rougher than he would've expected. His head's already fuzzy with sleepy contentment, and it won't be long before he's asleep, he knows.

"I won't make any promises I can't keep," is the last thing he hears, Louis's voice rife with mischief. Harry would be worry, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't actually mind.


Harry wakes up gradually, and it's a nice contrast to yesterday and Zayn's rude intrusion. He snuffles into his pillow in his half asleep state, until a soft laugh informs him that he's not quite alone in bed this morning.

He peeks an eye open and at first sees nothing but hair until he shoves it out of his eyes with a grimace, and yes, there's Louis, leaning up onto his elbow and looking at Harry with a smile that he's only ever seen aimed at him. He's not to know, but it's a mixture of indulgence and slight awe.

"Sleep well, sunshine?" Louis asks, watching Harry stretch. "You really should work on that snoring thing."

"And you really should work on that staring at people when they're sleeping thing," Harry shoots back, lowering his arms back to the bed and raising his eyebrows when Louis turns a rather interesting shade of red. "Oh my god, I was joking, were you really?"

"No," Louis denies, swiftly changing the subject. "Never noticed how your room gets the brunt of the sun through that window. It interrupted my beauty sleep."

"You'll get used to it," Harry shrugs, belatedly realizing that he's just kind of made the assumption that Louis is going to be spending enough time sleeping in Harry's bed to get used to it, which he hasn't actually gotten any confirmation of. He hazards a glance to Louis. He's smiling.

"We'll just see." His tone is light, but with that sentence he's just answered all of Harry's pressing questions. This hasn't made anything weird, they're still them.

"D'you want breakfast?" Harry offers quickly before the sappy thoughts in his head can make their way to his vocal chords. "We still haven't got eggs, but there's more bread and probably some sausages or something I can put on."

"You, Harry Styles, are an expert on the way to a man's heart," Louis informs him, curling a hand behind Harry's neck and pulling him into a short kiss. "Breakfast sounds magical. Like a land of dreams."

Harry's slightly distracted by sudden panic as he wonders in his head if that's what he's trying to do, make his way to Louis's heart, but Louis doesn't let him think about it for too long, bounding from the bed and fixing Harry with an expectant look.

"Well? Come on, young Hazza, those sausages aren't going to make themselves. Breakfast is magical, but it's not that magical."

"You're ridiculous," Harry snorts, but he slides out of bed, not bothering to put on any additional clothing. It's just them, after all, and while he's slightly hesitant to sleep in bed with him while wearing less, it's nothing Louis hasn't seen before.

"You're the one dawdling when there's breakfast to be had," Louis reasons. He takes Harry's hand and pulls him along until Harry laughs and acquiesces to being dragged. Louis doesn't let go of his hand until they're in the kitchen, squeezing it and then sitting at one of the chairs around the table, giving Harry an impatient look.

"You only love me for the food," Harry teases, putting bread into the toaster and setting out the butter so that it'll soften a little by the time the toast is done. A look in the refrigerator yields the package of sausages he had thought it would.

"Nope," Louis's tone is lighthearted. "Food's just one of the reasons."

Harry's glad his back is turned to Louis as he puts the sausages in the pan, because the smile on his face is edging on goofy, and it's entirely embarrassing.

He senses Louis before he turns around and manages to replace the smile with something a bit more toned down, raising his eyebrows with what he hopes looks like mild disinterest.

Louis is sitting on the counter opposite, smiling at Harry innocently. "C'mere." His voice is anything but innocent, and Harry very nearly obeys automatically, but stops himself.

"And why should I do that?" he asks, folding his arms over his chest.

Louis's smile just widens. "Because you're not fooling anyone, and you want to kiss me right now just as badly as I want to kiss you. Come here."

Harry does.

"The sausages are going to burn," he warns, stepping into the V of Louis's legs and leaning up when Louis leans down.

"You're tastier anyway," Louis whispers, and it's ridiculously, hilariously Louis, but Harry thinks it's as good a reason as any, so he slips his tongue into Louis's mouth and forgets about everything else.

Their breakfast ends up being cold toast and sausages burned black. It tastes horrible, and neither of them can stop smiling as they eat it.


They really should have known better than to think it could last forever, this ability to kiss and have nobody know about it. It had seemed safe enough, though, doing it inside the house. They didn't think about it too hard, caught up in having fun and feeling good and not thinking about the fact that they have nosy bandmates named Liam who enjoy walking in on people making out on sofas.

"Um," is their first clue to his presence, and they both scramble apart but the damage is done, and Liam's eyes are wider than Harry's ever seen them. "Um."

"You don't even have a key!" is, for some reason, the only thing Harry can think to say.

Liam waves the key in his hand vaguely, not taking his eyes off them. "I, uh, Zayn let me take his." He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at them. "You two were - that was - right?" He doesn't finish any of the sentences he starts, but they get the idea.

"... A little bit?" Louis offers, giving Liam his best smile which fades a little when Liam just stares back at him. "Maybe a lot," he mumbles, sighing.

"Okay," Liam says slowly, still looking from one of them to the other. "Okay. Not, I'm not. Okay." He seems to gather his wits and nods at them. "Let's not talk about this right now," he decides, waving the key again. "I'm going to give this back to Zayn, and you two can just... Continue what you were doing." He swallows, hard; Harry can see the movement of his throat from his seat. "And never talk to me about it."

"I think that sounds like a good idea," Harry agrees quickly, and Louis nods his approval as well, so Liam quickly turns to exit their apartment, batting away the cushion Louis tosses after him with a shout of, "And maybe knock next time!"

They don't look at each other for a little while after Liam's gone, until Louis rubs the back of his neck and looks up at Harry sheepishly.

"I'm guessing that's put you right out of the kissing mood?" He sighs, dramatically. "Damn Liam and his terrible timing. I was about to charm myself right into your knickers."

Harry recognizes what Louis is doing as a diversion tactic, so they don't have to talk about what just happened, so they don't have to talk about how Liam's probably going to tell the others and then they're going to have to deal with questions about them, when they aren't even sure what they are. And eventually, they're going to have to figure out what they are. But right now, Louis is offering him an out, and Harry gets squirmy when it comes to serious conversations, so he takes it.

"You were not. My knickers are remaining firmly in place, you terrible man," he says haughtily, squealing (though he'll later deny it) when Louis tackles him and digs his fingers into Harry's ribs.

Louis spends the next twenty minutes alternating between tickling Harry and kissing him senseless. Harry thinks it's a twenty minutes well spent.

(Except the tickling parts.)


"Am I gonna need a drink for this?" Louis mumbles, giving Harry a suspicious look. "You've got your serious talk face on."

"I have a serious talk face?" Harry didn't know that, but he shakes away the irrelevant thought. "I don't think so. I don't think it's that serious. Is it that serious?"

"It's your talk, you tell me." Louis is feigning confusion, but they both know what they need to talk about.

Harry gives him a look, and Louis sighs. "Do we have to, though?" he whines, flopping back onto Harry's bed. "Can't we not? We've done well enough so far not talking about it, haven't we?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry admits, but Louis sighs and grumbles at him.

"No, don't put on that face. Harry." Harry would stop if he had any idea what face Louis was talking about. "Fine. We'll talk about it. But I want the record to show that I was under duress."

"I think that only works in courts," Harry says, confused. "Or like, when there's actually someone taking a record."

"Semantics." Louis waves a dismissive hand. "Just come here. If we're having a serious talk, I want snuggles while we have it."

"I think that can be arranged." Harry gives him a lopsided smile, then crawls into bed next to him, not bothering with the covers and just curling into Louis's side.

Louis lets out a slow breath, hugging Harry close. "Alright. So. Here we are."

"Here we are," Harry agrees. He clears his throat as he tries to think of what to say next. "What are we?" is what he decides on. There, nice and vague.

He leans back to watch Louis's face and watches him come up with and reject several jokes he could make. Finally, he shrugs, rubbing Harry's side.

"I dunno," he says quietly. "I thought we were just, you know, friends who kissed sometimes, but then we became friends who kiss all the time. Which I don't mind," he adds quickly.

"Right, me either," Harry agrees. He shifts so that he isn't crushing one of Louis's arms. "It's really fun, I like it."

"Yeah, me too, it's fun." Louis chews on the inside of his cheek. "That's what I thought it was, just a bit of fun, but then last night happened."

Harry knows exactly what he means by last night, too. He doesn't mean last night as in when they were making out instead of paying attention to Friends reruns, or when they tried to see what it was like to kiss when they had food in their mouths. (Disgusting, is the answer to that one.) Louis is talking about last night when they were in bed, lying next to each other, and there was hardly any kissing at all, just Louis holding him and him feeling Louis close and fuck, just thinking about it gives Harry a feeling scarily close to butterflies in his stomach.

"Last night happened," Harry repeats quietly. "Yeah, it did." He looks back up at Louis, expression curious. "Was last night not fun, then?"

"No," Louis says, his voice gentler than Harry's used to. "No, it wasn't fun. It was just... Really, really nice."

Harry's stomach unknots a bit, and he releases a breath he's been holding. "Yeah, for me too." He wraps an arm around Louis's waist. "I'm really glad it wasn't just me," he says. "And that I'm not, y'know, going crazy or something."

"See, I'm not gay," Louis says slightly louder, seemingly ignoring Harry. "I like girls, and I've never been attracted to guys, but then there's you." Louis sounds upset, and Harry automatically rubs his stomach a little. "And you're just, you're easy to talk to, and you're fun, and you laugh at my jokes even when I don't even think they're funny." He takes a pause for breath, which Harry hopes, stupidly, will put air in his own lungs as well, because there's certainly not any making its way there now.

He takes in a gulp of air before Louis continues. "And you're just so pretty," he says, voice straining, like he'd rather not be saying it. "You're so pretty and you look so good when I'm kissing you, I want to make you look like that all the time."

Harry kisses Louis's shoulder without thinking, because Louis's voice is actually shaking a little now and it's sort of scaring him. It does seem to calm him, at least slightly.

"And I was just thinking," Louis says, his voice barely a whisper. "I just thought it, last night, when we were... And then I couldn't stop thinking about it. About how, I." He clears his throat, and when he speaks again, he sounds beyond embarrassed. "I just… I just sort of realized that I don’t want to sleep in beds that don’t have you in them."

Harry is moving before he can really think about it, scrambling his way over Louis and kissing him, over and over, pressing their lips together until Louis kind of shoves him away, face alarmed.

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'm irresistible, but y'know, kind of just poured my heart out, a bit more of an audible reaction, please," Louis requests, but he's smiling, and Harry knows that Louis approves of his reaction, audible or not.

"You're the wind beneath my wings, you light up my world like nobody else, et cetera," Harry says impatiently. "Now if we could get on with this, I'd like to kiss you for as close to forever as I can, if that's alright with you?"

"I think that can be arranged," Louis replies as quickly as he can to get it out before Harry's kissing him again, because after that, he knows he isn't going to be saying anything for quite a while.

Some ten minutes later, Louis calls out "Come on my fucking tits!", completely ruining the moment, but as Harry collapses onto him in a fit of laughter, he thinks to himself that he's pretty sure it's one of the best moments of his life, anyway.