#I guess maybe I should be thankful that I’ve moved so wholly away from Harry Potter in my life that I don’t even register fan shit anymore

[thats-highly-significant]

Nothing makes you eat humble pie faster than seeing an incredibly standard and famous ship name you’ve seen a thousand times before and genuinely thinking for a moment that it’s referring to characters from a show that like three people on tumblr have ever heard of

[rhnuzlocke]

Chapter Ten: Street Fighting

Slateport was a bustling port city that had slowly taken over the entire cape and began to creep inland. It wasn’t as built up or modern as Kogane, in whose shadow Ren had spent her childhood. Instead it reminded Ren of the more distant Asagi, complete with a towering lighthouse shining above it all.

Ren bought them fresh Carvanha fritters and kumara chips in the crowed market by the fishing docks, then picked up a bag of ginger-coconut biscuits at a bakery as they wove their way south. She’d been missing fish and there was nothing like getting the morning’s catch before noon—even if it wasn’t quite the same as the Koiking korokke and roast yakiimo she used to pick up on her way into town.

Slateport’s beaches were enormous—the largest Ren had ever seen. They wrapped two-thirds of the way around the city and stretched at least a hundred meters beyond the dunes and smooth slate walkway. There were sandbars out further still that people and pokemon had swam to. Ren took off her boots and let her feet sink into the dry, shifting sand. She winced at the scorching heat until it was up to her ankles, but Tāraki flopped down and let out something akin to a purr as he splayed out.

“According to the visitor’s guide, all the battling in the city takes place out here,” Ren told her team.

Māia gave a few experimental flaps on her shoulder. “Excellent! The wind is perfect!”

Panahi clacked her beak in agreement.

“Akahana, you should still be taking it easy, so just let me know if you’d rather rest in your ball.” She nodded. “Iki.”

The Surskit startled out of Ren’s shadow. “Y-yes?”

“I want you to take the lead, if you feel up to it.”

“What?”

Ren rubbed at her shoulder. “Sometimes it seems like you still don’t think you’re a battler. But that’s my fault for neglecting your training. If you give me another chance, I bet I can prove to you that you can be.” Iki fidgeted. “What’d ya say, little bug? Want to give this a go?”

Iki glanced at Akahana before squaring up to Ren. “Y-yeah, let’s do it!”

Was it hope, or did you see potential in her?

“I knew she could be great. Even though it scared her, she always had such unshakable dedication. It ran deeper than even I knew. She threw her all into every fight. The fear never made her freeze, it only made instincts keener. There was no way she wouldn’t become a top battler.”

I see.

“Is that why I chose her in the first place? I thought…”

Do not doubt yourself. The way you have sought to heal and empower all of those bonded to you—to use your strength to protect even strangers—is why I chose you. It is at your very core, Ren.

“You’re right. I’ve always wanted to do good with my abilities, even when I still wanted to do great things.”

It is my belief that you will do both.

Trainers were scattered all around and battles took place wherever they could find enough open space between the other beachgoers. Much to Tāraki and Māia’s delight, there were more than enough opponents around the right badge level for Ren’s entire team to get some practice between Iki’s bouts.

The matches by the seaside were particularly exciting and informative. Water moves could manifest so differently with a source so readily available, and fully aquatic pokemon could maneuver in in wholly new ways. And Iki could skate across the waves with a speed and grace that blew her movements across dry land out of the water.

But high on the beach, where the sand was loose and drifting, her spindle legs sunk beneath the surface and her speed fell behind the Slugma she was facing. It glided across a layer of glass melted by the heat of its magma, and Iki only managed to escape by turning more sharply than it was able. She zigzagged away from a Rock Throw only to be driven further into the sand by an Ember. Ren could see her trembling.

“Dig deep, Iki! You can do this!”

The shaking stopped as the Slugma surged forward, but instead of ducking down for a Fell Stinger, Iki stood tall and released a rushing stream of bubbles from her open mouth. They burst and hissed upon impact, splattering the Slugma’s viscous skin asunder until is disappeared in a cloud of steam.

The sea breeze cleared it a moment later, revealing a sunken puddle of black rock with magma glowing through the cracks

“Oh,” Iki murmured in shock.

“That was Bubble Beam!” Ren cheered. “You have a water move now! This is gonna change the game for you!”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, little bug!” Ren grinned wide and Iki smiled tentatively back.

The other trainer stood back up from inspecting her Slugma, and withdrew it. “I’m gonna take Mote to the Pokemon Center.”

“Thanks for the battle!”

“Oh, uh, you too.” The trainer almost turned to go, but hesitated. “You said this was your first time in Slateport, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Then you might not have heard, but they hold tourneys at the Seashore House every Friday. It’s a bar just down there on the west end.” Ren followed where she was pointing and spotted a blue roof a ways off on the beach. “It’s worth a go if you’re still in town tomorrow. I always go.”

Ren threw her an appreciative smile as thanks. “Sounds great! We’ll be sure to check it out.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then bye!” She said in a rush before jogging off.

Ren turned immediately back to the task at hand. “This is perfect! We just need to do a little target practice and we’ll be ready for thing!”

Iki looked over at the sunken hole where the Slugma had been. “If you say so.”

...

The pink and orange of sunset painted the horizon and set the sand alight as Ren and her pokemon set out the next evening. The Seashore House was packed when they entered—filled to the brim with trainers and their pokemon. A smiling middle-aged man and a Tentacool bustled behind the long bar serving up drinks while one harried waitress took orders from the seated patrons. Buoys and lifesavers splashed bright color across the slatted wood walls, and the smell of fried seafood wafted powerfully from the direction of the kitchen. The room was buzzing with conversation and pulsing with excitement. Ren felt her heart beat a little quicker and a grin overtake her face.

She drifted outside with the rest of the mingling trainers to find the large stone patio being cleared. She grabbed the end of one of the remaining picnic tables with some of the others and set it down in the sand in line with the rest now encircling the patio.

“Hey, y’all! Listen up now!” A voice boomed from an amp near the side door. The buzz quieted and everyone’s attention turned to a girl who couldn’t have been over twelve, mic in one hand and the other thrown in the air, standing on a crate to see over the sea of heads.

“This is your Master of Ceremonies, your Officiator of Fun and your ultimate Judge of Battle Badassery, KAT KORRAAAAA!”

The regulars roared their approval while some of the new initiates clapped unevenly in confusion. Ren whooped. After an appropriate amount of adoration, the girl lowered her hand and all fell quiet.

“Let me lay out the rules for the new blood and all them that’s just passing through. All matches are one v one, standard League rules. The first tournament is for greenhorns through two badges. Next is for three and four badges, so on and etc. You get the idea. Winner of each tourney gets as many free drinks as they can knock back! Remember, you can only lose once, but you can win again and again so step right up hopefuls, gather round spectators and prepare yourselves for the BEATDOWN!”

Ren waded through the crowd and wrote her name in the bracket beside the building. Spectators filled the picnic tables while pokemon took the edge of the patio for a better view. Ren and her competitors surveyed each other appraisingly.

“I’m seeing a lot of plant, dark, and fire-types.” Ren whispered down to her team. “This is yours to win, Iki!”

Iki was trembling, but she nodded resolutely.

Pride mixed with excitement rushed through Ren’s veins and had her tingling down to her toes by the time her first match was called. Her opponent sent in a Houndour against Iki, and Ren glimpsed Akahana don a matching grin.

Ren had Iki douse the ring with Water Sport to dampen its fire and use the puddle to hydroplane around its jaws. A Quick Attack to each flank had it staggering and third to its shoulder brought it down before it had managed to land a single hit. The swiftness and decisiveness of the victory caused a moment of quiet before Kat shattered it with her judgement and sent Iki skittering back between Ren’s legs.

They faced a Seedot in the next round, which proved tougher. But Ren correctly guessed that its joints were the most vulnerable, and Iki had the precision to follow through with Fell Stinger. The third round was a Numel whose combination of Magnitude and Flame burst had Iki quaking, but once again she didn’t freeze and it succumbed. The fourth was a Cacnea, whose troublesome Sand Attack they beat back with Bubblebeam. It was difficult to land any effective hits without getting in range of its Needle Arm, but they managed to distract and encumber it enough to get a decisive hit on its vulnerable crown.

The crowd grew more and more raucous as each successive tier of the bracket filled until the final battle was announced. A trainer with a mohawk and piercings stepped into the ring with his Boldore opposite Ren and Iki.

Finally a real challenge! Ren felt her body lower and her hands come up like she was preparing for a judo bought, and Iki mimicked the stance in front of her. The other trainer sneered and his Boldore postured to play to the crowd. It was about four times Iki’s size and must have been near ten times her weight. They would have to be quick and careful to beat it, but that was where they excelled.

You seem to think of your confidence as a weakness of late, but to my mind, it is perhaps your greatest strength.

“Thinking I could handle things I couldn’t has gotten pokemon killed! You know that! You’ve seen it!”

I disagree. Look again, Ren. Look harder.

Ren and Iki waited for the opening move they knew was coming, and the Surskit sprang to the side to dodge the rock launched at her. It shattered by Ren’s feet, but she felt rather saw it as her eyes followed Iki’s zig-zagging path around the edge of the ring. Three more rocks narrowly missed before the attack was spent, but by then Iki had lined up a clear shot and hit it square in the leg with Bubble Beam.

The Boldore stumbled in surprise, but then leapt back at her with a Smackdown. Instead of running, Ren had Iki parry with Fell Stinger, which unbalanced and sent it stumbling back.

The crowd roared almost as loud as Ren’s heart in her ears, the pitch of it climbing at her audacity. But Iki paid the price when her own unsteady legs failed to carry her out of range of a Headbutt. The crowd gasped as the force of it pinned her to the ground. There was no getting away this time, and the Boldore raised a leg to stomp her.

But Ren didn’t reach for her ball or call their surrender. Instead her command rang out in the relative quiet as the audience anticipated the end. Iki raised her head and blasted the Boldore point blank in the face with Bubble Beam. It staggered as the first bubbles exploded against it, wobbled as Iki pressed the attack, and collapsed as Ren and Iki’s strength outlasted it.

The crowd went absolutely wild. People and pokemon were jumping and screaming and cheering. Iki didn’t jump this time. Instead, light suffused her and a breeze rushed out from her, quieting the crowd.

Iki emerged from the shell of light looking unlike any of the many Masquerain varieties in Ren’s Pokedex. Her head was crowned with a pointed, golden helm with a plume of red rising from the back. Her false eyes were a stark and hypnotizing contrast of black and white, and her mask was a deep shade of pink. She was amazing.

“What a tournament! What an upset!” Kat yelled over the mic. “Folks, it looks like we have our winner! Give it up for Ren Kosugi and her MVP, Iki the Surskit!” The crowd cheered wildly again and the girl waited for a lull to continue. “Or should I say Masquerain? Let’s congratulate her on that awesome evolution!” The cheering picked up again, but this time with more applause and a few lycan-whistles. “I think we can all agree we’ve never seen a bug quite like that folks! What a sweep! Be sure to collect your reward, Ren!”

Iki’s head was tilted down, trying to catch her reflection in the sheen of water over slate.

“Iki!” Ren called.

Iki turned and looked up, but her eyes found Akahana instead. The Poochyena’s black lips curved upward in a rare smile. Iki’s wings began to beat furiously, propelling her up several feet before she got them under control. Ren ran to her rescue, scooping Iki up and hugging her in her arms.

“You look awesome, little bug! I’m so proud!”

Ren felt Iki press her face into her shoulder. “Thank you.”

In another moment, Ren loosened her grip enough to look down at her pokemon “So do you believe me yet?”

Iki took a moment to answer, but there was hope and happiness in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

...

Later that night in their room in the Pokemon Center, Ren was drifting off on a bunk with Akahana already snoozing beside her, when a low whistle pulled her back to consciousness. It repeated, sharper this time.

“Iki!” It was Māia.

Ren cracked an eye open and saw Iki’s red plume jolt in the shade-filtered moonlight.

“Y-yes?”

“The others and I wanted to congratulate you on your evolution,” said Panahi gently.

“Really?”

There were murmurs of ascent all around.

“Of course, dear. You worked very hard, and you did so well. We were all impressed.”

Iki fidgeted in her cushion. “Oh, wow, thank you. I-I mean that’s very kind. I didn’t think I was doing that great…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” hissed Māia. “That tournament was awesome!”

“Especially that last battle!” Tāraki gushed. “The way you received that Smackdown with your head spike!” He was on his feet, imitating the motion with the frond sprouting from his head.

“That took guts!” Said Māia. “And I would know.”

Iki was quiet for a moment, then ventured: “because your ability is called Guts?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh.” Then Iki let out a little tinkling sound that might have been a giggle.

Ren pressed her hands over her mouth to stop herself from squealing and giving herself away.

“You see?”

Yes. I see a trainer who cares very deeply about her pokemon and their happiness.

“I—You!—Don’t laugh at me after being so kind!”

Only if you cease mocking your virtues.

“Personally I liked the way you used Water Sport to speed yourself up and Bubble Beam to slow the others down,” said Hakeka. “I didn’t know you were so clever.”

“Ren helped me with—”

The Shroomish interrupted before Ren could: “still, props on the execution.” Iki did not deflect again and Hakeka continued. “Now that you’re talking to us, I’ve got a question for you—if I may?”

“Um, sure. What is it?”

“Why do you hang out with the grumpy Poochyena so much?”

Ren saw Iki rise up off her cushion, false eyes flaring. “Aka is not grumpy! She’s really nice!”

“Yeah, lay off her, Hakeka!” Māia chirped. “Akahana defeated me in battle. She’s super cool!”

“Whoa! Alright, okay. Clearly I’ve been missing out on something.”

Tāraki started giggling, and soon the rest of them joined in until Panahi gently shushed them and made them go to sleep.

...

Ren wove between the colorful stalls of Slateport’s central market, laden down with bags and Panahi perched on her shoulder. The crowds dissipated as she made her way north to a small park in the shadow of a large, gaudily decorated building. She collapsed onto a bench by a fountain that shot elegant arcs of water from the snouts of patinated copper Horsea, Seadra, and a single Kingdra atop the rest. Panahi hopped down to float in the pool and Ren leaned back to let the mist cool her face.

“I hate shopping.”

“Well I love it!” Panahi declared, paddling around placidly behind her.

“Happy you’re a trainer’s pokemon now?”

“I can no longer deny it has its benefits.”

“That necklace was one pricey battle item, so I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

Panahi huffed. “You think I got this for me? Please, Honey, this is a service to humanity! Just look at me. I’m radiant!”

Ren craned her neck at an awkward angle to watch the Wingull puff out her chest with pride. The cerulean jewels twinkled in their web of delicate silver chains like the warm shallows off the beach. Ren hoped the rest of her team was half as pleased with their gifts as Panahi seemed to be.

Ren sat up as people began to pour out of the building opposite, their excited murmuring overtaking the peaceful splashing of the fountain behind her. Some of them dispersed, but many hung around—in anticipation of what, Ren couldn’t be sure.

“Goodness, that’s a sizable flock,” Panahi commented.

Ren shaded her eyes and squinted to read the golden lettering above the doors. “Oh, it’s a contest hall. One must have ended.”

“Are contests where pokemon put on performances instead of battling?”

“I think so? I’m not so sure exactly what happens. We don’t have them in Johto.”

The crowd suddenly parted to make way for a news crew as a woman in a frilly costume and her equally adorned Altaria emerged. She smiled wide as she answered questions and the pair posed for pictures.

“Must be some life,” Panahi sighed.

Ren turned back to her, and all bubbly satisfaction from earlier was gone. Panahi absently preened  one of her primaries that was nicked by a move the day before.

Ren sucked on her tongue as she fought with herself about what to say. “Ahi, you know you don’t have to be a battler, right?”

“Don’t worry about me, Honey,” Panahi said, brushing the thought aside with a wing. “I don’t mind pulling my weight, even if I’m not as enthused as the chicks.” She yawned. “I could use a nap though.” Ren pulled Panahi’s pokeball off her belt. “Send one of the others out to keep an eye on the shopping,” Panahi instructed sternly before tapping the button and flowing inside.

Ren turned the ball over in her hands. She’d have to think of something. But maybe now wasn’t the time.

Does this Ren seem selfish to you? Impulsive?

“I suppose not. No… I guess I have been a little hard on myself lately.”

Ren stowed Panahi’s ball and tapped Iki’s. The Masquerain emerged in a flash of red light.

“Do you mind being out for a bit? It’s fine if you’re still tired from last night.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

She drifted on whirring wings and landed with the tips on the surface of the pool, hydrophobic coating keeping her afloat while Ren set up her vapor box. She lowered her purchases into it, watching them melt into the wood one by one. Behind her, Iki was staring down at her reflection. She raised her false eyes for a moment and then slowly let them droop. Ren opened the last package instead of stowing it and held it out for Iki to see.

“These are for you.”

Iki snapped out of her contemplation and peered at the pair of polished blue stones instead. “So pretty.”

“They’re mystic water gems. You can wear them in battle to boost the power of Bubble Beam.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. Thank you, Ren.”

“I thought we could mount them on your helmet instead of a necklace. What do you think?” Iki tilted her head, watching the sunlight play through them. “I’d like that.”

“Great! The vendor said we could go back and she’d help me attach them.”

Someone passed by them, and Ren’s eyes caught on a dark, tattooed forearm. She glanced up and, even in profile, the broken nose and scared lip were unmistakable. Ren jumped to her feet.

“Josh!” The tall, gangly teen startled and stopped in his tracks, shoulders hunching. “What are you doing here?”

He turned around slowly. “Hey, R-ren.”

Ren’s cheeks puffed out as she bit back whatever she was planning to say. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “How do you know my name?”

“They, uh, s-s-said. On the news.”

“Right. Shit.”

“I d-d-d-d—” He stopped, took a breath. “Your f-father is a gym leader?”

“Yeah, um—”

“Wow, your M-m-masquerain is—wow.”

“I know! Isn’t she beautiful?” He nodded and Iki glanced between them, pink mask flushing redder. Then Ren remembered who she was talking to and the warm feeling vanished as quickly as it had come over her. “Wait! Stop that right now! We are not friends, Josh. Remember? I didn’t call you over for small talk!”

Josh flinched and looked down at his feet. “R-right, yes, yeah, of course… Sorry.”

“Good. Now, what are you doing here?”

“N-n-nothing! N-not st-st-stealing! J-j-j-j-j—I’m running some errands!”

“You can’t even lie properly? Why did they hire you?”

Josh swallowed hard, eyes scrunching closed for a second as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Who? What—”

“Cut the crap! You aren’t just some thief trying to make a quick buck.”

“No!” His brows lowered into a scowl, then his eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

“You work for Magma. You’re here for them. What are they doing here, Josh?”

“I’m not—They—N-n-nothing illegal! A n-normal errand! I have to go!” Josh took off running and Ren ran after him.

“Ah, so this is why we’re here?”

You would rather move on?

“I know our first two meetings were important but— I’d rather not dwell on this one. Makes me feel stupid. I should have seen that stunt he pulled on Mt. Pyre coming.”

I had thought his actions there might have gone some way towards mending things. But perhaps you did not see?

“See what?”

He followed you to the peak. He risked his life to make sure you were unharmed and in safe hands.

“Oh… I suppose that makes us even again. But, uh, what did you want ask about this moment?”

Why did you confront him?

“Ah, that’s fair. Of course I wanted my involvement with Magma to be over after what happened in Granite Cave. But it also made it hard for me to [i]not[/i] be involved. I couldn’t just let him go and learn later on that I could have helped but did nothing… Oh, I think I see your point.”

Before Josh had run thirty feet, he stopped abruptly and Ren nearly crashed into him. He pulled something out of hip bag as she recovered her balance and pressed it into her hands.

“This is for you.”

Ren was so startled that took it without thinking. It was something light and flat in a brown paper bag. She reached in and pulled out a TM.

“What—?” She meant to ask him, but he was already gone. “Ugh! What the hell was that? He just—and I—I can’t believe he tricked me into taking this! He probably stole it!” She flipped the TM over and growled in pure frustration. “Smackdown? What kind of joke is this? Why that beanpole son-of-a—”

“Maybe it’s not a joke,” said Iki by her ear.

“What?”

“Maybe it’s a gift. You did save his life.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t just trying to…” Ren trailed off and took a breath. “You know, you’re probably right.” Ren cast around one last time before returning to her abandoned vapor box on the bench. She stowed it and Iki’s gems in her shoulder bag. “Let’s go get you fixed up!”

[tllthesundies]

27?

Louis’s squealing in the bathtub, a hand over his mouth and hunched over, and a bottle of this hotel’s best wine in his other hand. He doesn’t know what’s funny; Harry’s sitting on the rug outside of the tub, but he’s leaning forward, too, with a hand gripping the ledge, and he’s belly laughing. He thinks it started when Harry kept stumbling over his words, failing to string together a coherent sentence.

They’re very pissed.

“Did I ever tell you,” Harry says, Louis giggling softly against the back of his hand, “about the time that Mitch thought it would be funny to replace all my briefs with lace thongs?”

Louis eyes him.

He’s still giggling, but, slowly, it fades, and he becomes quiet.

“No,” he says. “When was this?”

Harry hums, scrunching up one side of his face.

“Like … ,” he trails off. He wanders off in thought for so long, Louis fears he might have to bring him back down to Earth. “Earlier today.”

Louis rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“No wonder I haven’t heard it,” he mumbles. “So? What about it?”

Harry shrugs.

“Nothing, I guess,” he replies with a sluggish shrug, leaning forward to grab the bottle of wine from Louis’s hand. He throws his head back, baring the expanse of his throat. Louis’s eyes fixate on it; on the alcohol that visibly makes it way down taut muscles and tendons against his pale complexion. Louis blinks a few times, averting his drunken gaze with a thick swallow. “I just think it’s weird. You know? On me. I think it looks beautiful on other men, but it’s not for me, personally. Now, I have to go commando.”

Louis takes a second to blink again, then tilts his head, looking at Harry.

“Mate, you forego pants all the time,” he says.

“I know, but he completely took away the absolute freedom of my choice to do so,” Harry explains.

Louis makes a face.

“You’re such an Aquarius,” he says.

Harry laughs.

It echoes in his head happily, dancing alongside I think it looks beautiful on other men.

Louis blinks, again, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “Do you—” He has to keep pushing the words up his tongue to get them out. “Do you, um, think they’d look weird on me?”

Face blank, Harry blinks.

Louis tries again.

“Like. I’ve never worn any before, but—I’ve thought about it.”

They’re best friends; they’re honest like this.

Harry licks his wet, reddened bottom lip, gazing at Louis more directly, something warmer creeping into his irises and digging into the centre of Louis. “You should,” he says, then tips his head back to swallow more wine, but never disconnecting their gazes.

Louis’s brows rise, fingers slightly trembling.

“I should?” he echoes.

Looking away, removing the bottle from his lips, Harry shrugs. “If you want. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, if that’s the issue.”

Louis opens and closes his mouth several times, before looking away.

“Yeah,” he lies. “That’s it.”

Harry gets onto his knees, then, and clumsily climbs into the bathtub. Louis tries to make room, but Harry keeps him caged in, wedging himself between Louis’s legs and cupping Louis’s face in his hands. He leans down to press gentle kisses all over Louis’s face, and Louis just bashfully scrunches his nose, trying not to squirm or disrupt him.

Lastly, he kisses the tip of Louis’s nose, then pulls away, still cupping his face.

“Come on,” he urges softly, “come dance with me. I wanna show you my new moves.”

Louis tilts his head back, meeting his eye. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

He just watched Harry sing and dance for two hours on stage. He complained to Louis not even an hour ago his feet hurt and then promptly took off his shoes, now barefoot.

Harry gives him a smile.

“Absolutely not,” he says, and drops both hands from Louis’s face to reach down for his hands, intertwining their fingers. “Come on.”

Louis tries to sigh, but he’s smiling.

He lets Harry pull him up.

The next time Louis thinks about lingerie is when he’s passing Victoria’s Secret.

He’s in a small mall in America that’s fairly empty on a weekday afternoon. Normally, if it were crowded, he wouldn’t even take a second glance, no matter if something caught his eye. But he takes a pause. A pink, sheer shirt of sorts hangs on a display mannequin, and he glances over at it several times before courage leaks into his feet and carries him over.

He reaches for the tag, reading the Lace-trim Babydoll words.

He doesn’t know what a babydoll is.

But he feels the material with his fingers, despite that, and his eyebrows rise at the unexpected softness. It’s not itchy, like how it looks, and it’s really … pretty.

His hand drops.

Louis starts to back away when his eyes catch a white version of the same babydoll. He thinks he almost prefers that, but it blurs as he looks back and forth, and he has to take a deep breath, looking away as he swallows. He looks around to see if anybody’s watching him, and notices a Buy 3, Get 3 Free sign.

There’s a massive variety of multicoloured knickers both neatly and messily strewn about in white drawers.

He bites his bottom lip.

I think it looks beautiful on other men.

Louis wanders over.

He feels like all eyes are on him. He feels so out of place and like he shouldn’t be here. Like he could crawl out of his own skin.

Maybe he should leave.

“Hi!” a feminine voice chirps to Louis’s right, spiking his heart rate. An uncomfortable rush of blood pools in his chest, trapping his heart, and he doesn’t know what to fucking do with his hands anymore as he meets her smiling face. “Are you finding everything okay?”

“Uh—” He feels like his panic is written on his face. “I’m good. Thank you. Just—just looking.”

He regrets those last two words.

“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything,” she says, then walks away.

Louis breathes in.

He’s going to have a quick look, then go, because he does not want to encounter that woman again, or any other one who works here.

The issue, however, is that he finds a lot of knickers that are tempting — that are made entirely of lace, or have only lace lining; are sheer, cut into unique styles, shapes, cover very little of his arse or all of it. Colours range from deep and rich to something soft and feminine, and they’re so … tempting; his fingers curl with indecision as he just stares at the variety he’s offered.

Perhaps, if he weren’t guaranteed an extra, free three, he’d be more inclined to pass it up.

But they’re screaming at him.

Louis, hesitantly, picks up a palm tree lace thong knicker he sees amongst the other lace knickers, and unfolds it. It’s black, and has this sheer, shiny foil look to it in different areas that feels like nylon.

It’s nice.

He plays with the strappy waist and the centre ring it’s attached to, to figure it out, and finds out the waist can be removed.

Interesting.

He keeps it in his hand, and picks up another black knicker. It’s similar to the one already in hand, centre ring and all, except it has two waist straps instead of one; and it has slight more coverage in the back, so, he holds onto it. He picks up a blush pink floral lace thong knicker, a rich red thong, a pretty sky blue knicker that looks comfortable to lounge in and another pair of it in pastel pink.

They’re heavy in his hands.

Louis neatly lines them on top of each other to form a pile, and folds them in half, trying to flatten them as much as possible in his grip. It’s difficult to be wholly discreet, but he thinks he manages an okay job enough where he can sort of comfortably walk back towards the babydolls he was looking at. No one’s paying him mind, either, so, his legs are easier to control.

There is just as much a variety as there is knickers.

An entire one made of silk speaks to Louis on some sort personal, enchanted level, but he’s not sure what to fucking do. Should he even buy one? How would it look on him? Should he try it on?

That’s probably what he shouldn’t do.

The more time he spends in here, the more his nerves are driving him crazy. He chooses to risk it, picking up a random unlined sheer one that’s either a deep red or pink—he’s not sure, and, quite frankly, doesn’t care—and heads to the till. The person ringing his items up doesn’t look at him in any particularly strange way, but he still doesn’t look them in the eye. He just pays and leaves as quickly as possible.

Come to the show tonight, Harry told him. Begged him. Pleaded with him.

Louis would’ve never said no. He’s never told Harry no the near decade they’ve known each other, and he doesn’t think it’s wired in his DNA to deny him. But whenever Harry requests something from him, he always acts like Louis will. Part of it makes Louis laugh, as well as has the other part of him silently longing. Sometimes he does wish he could shut his devotion off for a moment, just to put it towards someone who could return it, just to see how it feels, but it’s never a lasting thought.

Sometimes nights are easier than others, to calm his yearning.

But tonight is fucking difficult.

After the show, Harry couldn’t keep his hands to himself; and Louis still feels Harry’s imprints on every part of himself Harry touched. As soon as the curtains came down, he darted straight to the stairs and came running towards Louis, wrapping him up in his arms and lifting him off his feet.

“I am carrying uncovered water in this cup, you dickhead,” Louis exclaimed, “you’re gonna make me spill it.”

“Don’t care,” Harry sang.

Louis could only loosely wrap his arms around Harry’s neck.

He actually carried Louis until they reached the very backstage where his black velvet curtains hung all over the walls and then laid him down on one of the settees with the most fragile approach.

Louis’s core melted like ice cream.

Now, he’s sitting on the edge of his hotel room bed, leg crossed over the other, and staring at his black bag packed with his clothes. He promised Harry he would come to his room in ten minutes, but he’s stuck in his head, anchored to the bed by the ghostly weight of Harry’s hand on his thigh. Harry kept rubbing it, dipping his fingers to his inner thigh repeatedly, when they were sat on the settee and, more importantly, right in front of his fucking band.

But each time his fingers crept so close, intimately, the vision of himself wearing one of the knickers he’d bought was so loud and colourful in his head. He wanted Harry to touch him like that without knowing what was underneath.

Louis uncrosses his leg and rubs the nail of his index finger as he stares at his bag.

He’s washed all the lingerie he bought a couple weeks ago, but he hasn’t worn any of it. He packs the same babydoll and blush thong and two others every time he has to travel somewhere, in case one of the nights he’s away he gets the courage to wear it.

He never does.

But tonight is the first time Louis’s wanted to.

He lifts himself just an inch or so off the bed, hesitating briefly, before walking to kneel in front of his bag and lift it open. The lingerie pieces are buried at the very bottom, and he pulls them out. Louis stares at the babydoll, and the only encouragement he gets to stand and move into the bathroom is the memory of Harry removing his hand from his thigh to curl around his waist, pulling Louis right into his lap and wrapping his arms around his stomach to keep him from going anywhere.

Louis removes all his clothes in front of the wide mirror placed above the double sinks, and observes his bare body cautiously in bright, white lights. He gently sweeps his fingers across his flat stomach, some permanent markings painted under his ribcage; he thinks he’s got an all right body, but he really hopes what he sees now translates well underneath the babydoll.

He puts the thong on first.

It’s—comfortable.

Louis turns to the side, eyeing the floral lace that’s wrapped smoothly around his hips and curve of his bum. The blush colour complements his skin so well, but it digs weirdly in between his cheeks.

He tries to fix it.

He spends a long time just gazing at himself; at the thong knicker and adjusting to the intrusiveness. Then, eventually, he convinces himself to stop stalling. His hands are trembling as he slips the babydoll on, and he inhales sharply when he forces himself to look properly in the mirror.

It’s so fucking sheer, Jesus. But it doesn’t look bad.

The top half where boobs would fill it out and underneath covering the ribcage is lined with lace and thin stripes.

Louis sees his body so clearly, and it’s doesn’t look as weird on him as he feared. And the colouring is nice, at least; it’s a light shade of a varying burgundy, and it contrasts with the nude of his thong, but it’s not a horrible mismatch.

It’s maybe, kind of cute.

Britney Spears starts singing at the other side of the room, and his heartbeat picks up at Harry’s signature ringtone.

He walks over, and picks it up.

“Hi,” Louis greets.

“You said you’d meet me in ten,” Harry says, “and it’s been twenty. You’re a filthy liar.”

“Um—” He brings a hand up to his mouth, pressing the nail of his thumb and index finger between his lips, against his teeth. “Could you, like … Can you come here, instead? To my room.”

Harry’s response is delayed. “Sure,” he answers. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Louis lies.

“No, you aren’t,” Harry counters, but it’s so calmly matter of fact; so direct. “See you in two.”

The line ends.

The panic sets in Louis’s throat. They’re on the same floor, separated by a few rooms, so, he has one minute to choose between hiding in the bathroom or under the covers. He’s already thinking this risk he’s taking with their friendship is a regret, and he has to inwardly avoid hating himself and feeling shame as he cracks the door to his room open for Harry to come in, then crawls under the sheets.

He has his back facing the door when he hears Harry’s footsteps in the hall reach his door, his knuckles tapping against the creaking door, and Harry softly calling, “Louis?”

“Hi,” Louis responds, quiet.

The door closes, and Harry comes around, crawling onto the bed until he’s lying next to Louis.

He looks warm in his white tank top and trackies; curls twice as defined from his shower and stray strands hanging in front of his face. Louis has the duvet covering up to almost his entire shoulder, but if Harry were to look close enough, he’d see the thin, red straps of his babydoll, and notice something different.

Louis wants him to notice.

“Hey, baby,” Harry says, voice just as soft as the look on his face.

Louis smiles.

It’s small, but he knows it fills his face. “Howdy, stranger.”

Harry’s smile widens, and he chuckles softly. He brings a hand to Louis’s forearm not tucked underneath the duvet, and gently rubs it with his palm. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

At the weird face Harry makes, he has to play it off with a light laugh.

“What?”

“You’re acting strange,” Harry comments.

“Huh,” Louis says, “so unlike me.”

Harry laughs at his dry tone, and trails his hand farther up Louis’s arm to his shoulder, and Louis’s heart starts to beat harder than it previously was. He can’t say anything nor move when Harry lifts himself up to draw the covers down to get underneath. He just keeps a sturdy grip on his end to keep himself covered, and holds his breath in his tight throat when Harry shuffles closer and wraps his arms around Louis to hold him against his chest.

Louis looks up.

Harry’s eyebrows and mouth twitch, confused, and he tilts his chin down at Louis.

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks. “It’s nice.”

He slides his hand down Louis’s back again, and Louis feels frozen in his hold; his heart is racing, warmth oozing from various directions in his core, locking him in with paralysed nerves. He has to take an unsteady breath before opening his mouth, looking away entirely to avoid Harry’s gaze.

“Um,” Louis hums, hearing how shaky his voice is, “just—don’t make fun, okay?”

“I would never,” Harry says.

His tone is absolute, if a little confused.

Louis knows that, but he still needs to make that clear for his own sake.

Harry lets go as Louis moves back a few inches, and he pulls the trigger by carefully pulling his side of the duvet down and off his body, revealing his entire figure.

He watches Harry carefully: watches his mouth part at the new sight of Louis lying on his side in a sheer babydoll with a lace thong underneath, eyes widening and nostrils flaring. There’s something that grows in his eyes and entire face that Louis can’t decipher — maybe fascination? Awe? Admiration? He feels like he’s reaching, but there’s no repulsion, so, it can’t be too bad, whatever Harry’s feeling.

Louis gently falls back to lie flat, to ease the insecurity creeping into him.

“Louis,” Harry says immediately.

Louis turns his head.

Whenever Harry addresses him by his first name, it’s usually serious. There’s a darker look in his eyes, a slightly deeper change in his tone.

Louis swallows.

“What?”

Harry appears to struggle, lips parting then closing again and again.

“Wow,” he settles on.

Louis blinks.

“‘Wow?’” Louis echoes plainly.

Harry’s already shaking his head, briefly squeezing his eyes shut.

“No,” he backtracks, and meets Louis’s eyes, “I mean—wow. You look beautiful. Why are you … wearing all this?”

Louis’s cheeks burn.

He turns away from Harry, baring his backside to him, and doesn’t say a thing. But it doesn’t stop Harry from moving close to him, from throwing a leg over and pressing a hand into the mattress right in front of Louis’s face to loom above him on all fours.

“Do you mind?” Louis retorts, purposely still gazing ahead.

“Absolutely not.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Tell me,” Harry urges softly. “Or don’t, if it makes you uncomfortable. But I’d like to know.”

His fingers touch Louis’s warm cheek then, a tender caress with his knuckles, and Louis’s body eases, melting into the mattress. Harry always has his insides feeling so soft he may as well be floating on a cloud.

Louis covers the hand in front of his, gripping the edge of Harry’s palm.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Only if you wish to tell me,” Harry says.

Louis sighs.

“Yes, or no, wanker,” he says.

“Love when you talk dirty to me,” Harry replies. “Yes, please.”

Louis inhales deeply, letting it sink its claws into his very core, then quietly clears his throat.

“I’m wearing this for you,” he mumbles under his breath.

Harry’s caresses pause, tips of his soft fingers pressing against Louis’s cheekbones, and Louis’s heart breaks out into a sweat at the following silence. The backs of his knees and his palms are overheating, but he doesn’t know how to get out from under Harry without exposing his vulnerability even more.

“Baby,” Harry murmurs then, and Louis’s insides are sweeter than candy, “look at me.”

Louis refuses.

But his innate instinct to do as Harry tells him overtakes him a couple seconds later, and he turns his head, looking up at him. Harry’s staring at him like he wants to devour Louis, gaze heavy, reflecting in every crevice of his features, and as much as it pokes hope into his heart with sharp sticks and fills him with a quiet reassurance that he’s not as stupid as he thought for doing this, it makes him even more shy.

“What?” Louis asks, dumbly.

“Tell me again,” Harry orders. “Louder. Why are you wearing this?”

Louis searches his gaze.

“For you,” he simply answers.

Harry trails his eyes down his face then body, and he’s still touching Louis’s face. He looks back up. “Is this because of our conversation the other week?”

Whatever colour that was dissipating in his cheeks now returns.

“Well,” Louis starts, and stutters, “no—maybe. I just—I just haven’t done this before, and—” He’s having a difficult time getting the words out; he knows what he wants to say, but it’s like all his thoughts clump together and he has no idea what he’s attempting to communicate.

He just wants Harry to touch his waist.

A softness seeps into the heat of Harry’s eyes, and he moves his fingers to properly hold the entire left side of Louis’s face. “You don’t need to be nervous, baby,” he says. “Were you afraid I wouldn’t like this?”

Louis nods.

Harry looks at him, then presses his lower body against Louis’s thigh.

Louis inhales sharply.

His cock is hard against the side of Louis’s thigh, and Louis thinks he can get a feel of it really well, which means Harry’s not wearing anything under his trackies, and that spikes a secret tender spot at the very bottom of his spine, shooting straight to his core and making the tip of his dick throb.

Jesus, when did he become so needy?

“Feel that?” Harry murmurs. “You’re beyond any wildest dream of mine; how could I not like this even a small bit? Every time I see your face, I have to hold myself back. You’re so bloody gorgeous that you make it easy to want you. Even now, it’s taking everything in me not to turn you over and take you right here.”

Louis stares at him with wide eyes and a racing heart, and he blinks.

“You’re holding it together pretty well,” is all he can think to say.

“Barely,” Harry replies.

He ducks down and kisses the corner of Louis’s mouth, and Louis uses the tiny burst of confidence to turn onto his back and press their lips together.

Harry goes with it eagerly; he cups both sides of Louis’s face, moving forward on his knees and hunching over, moving his lips against Louis’s in deep, fierce drags. Louis can barely breathe at first, trying to comprehend every move Harry’s committing and match it, and he gets the hang of it.

But it’s almost like he’s a starving dog and Louis’s his feast.

“Baby,” he whispers against Louis’s mouth, “tell me what you want me to do.”

“Touch me,” Louis whines softly.

Harry pulls back.

“Be specific,” he says, dragging his hand down to Louis’s sternum.

“I—” Louis doesn’t fucking know. He just wants Harry to take the reigns, do as he pleases, and give Louis something he can just as easily take away. “Just do whatever you want with me; I don’t care. I just want you all over me.”

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he stares at Louis.

“Whatever I want?” he echoes.

“Whatever,” Louis affirms.

“So, like … ,” Harry trails off, fingertips traveling farther down Louis’s chest to his stomach. Louis’s skin is sensitive, so, it tickles and leaves goosebumps down his arms and legs, and he keeps his eyes trained on the way Harry’s fingers drag to the top of his thighs where the babydoll ends. He shuffles backwards, and bends down to press his lips to the skin where the edge touches, mouth featherlight. “If I were to kiss you”—Harry moves the lingerie up just an inch to kiss closer to Louis’s hip— “all over … that wouldn’t be an issue?”

Louis swallows.

“No,” he says, almost a mumble.

Harry continues to kiss around that area, then he pushes it up more and kisses a trail of gentle, lingering kisses along his hip and towards his stomach. But once he reaches Louis’s ribs, he falls back to his hip, looking at Louis through his lashes.

“I still can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t love you like this,” he comments.

At this point, Louis’s blush is never going away.

“Well,” he mumbles.

“Look at you,” Harry continues, tone marvelled. “You’re absolutely stunning. I’m serious — look down at yourself.” Louis does, gazing at the thin material laying against his body, and the lace that covers his hips and cock. “I’m not even sure what I could say to fully encompass just the way you are. I wanna make a mess of you.”

“So do it,” Louis challenges.

They stare at each other, Louis’s heart beating in his ears.

Harry straightens himself and grabs Louis’s waist to turn him over in one, fluid motion. A little, surprised squeak escapes Louis at the sudden turn of events, and at feeling Harry tug the material of his thong out of his crack, kneading the meat of his arse.

He spreads his cheeks, and Louis feels his skin stretch from the exposure.

“Oh, my God,” he hears Harry softly groan. “You’re all smooth, baby, Christ.”

Louis hums.

He drags his legs up the bed some and arches his back, lifting his bum a few inches off the bed to properly display it to Harry, and what he gets in return is a loud, sharp smack to his left cheek, making him whimper and cock twitch, a patch of wetness soaking into his knicker.

“You like being spanked?” Harry asks.

Louis hums, holding back and biting the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah,” he breathes out on a shaky voice.

He wants to reach inside his knicker and touch himself so badly, but there’s a far more powerful side to him that wants to be a good boy for Harry and come only when Harry makes him.

Soft lips press a kiss to his warm skin.

“We’ll save that for another time, then,” Harry promises. “One thing at a time.”

Louis opens his mouth to ask him what that means, but a high pitched whine is ripped unexpectedly from him when he feels a wet tongue drag up his perineum to his hole, diving right in. Louis’s fingers tightly cling to the sheets as Harry licks the outer and inner skin, sucking and biting eagerly. He feels paralysed with overwhelming sensitivity, hanging his head. He can’t do anything, except let his mouth hang open on silent moans, eyes fluttering whenever Harry’s tongue presses deeply into some of his most tender spots, and whimper and push his arse against his face every time he slows down.

“Har—ry,” Louis says, voice breaking on the first syllable and eyes welling up.

As much as he’d like for this to send him over the edge, because it could if it’s not stopped, he wants the first time Harry makes him come to be while he’s got his cock buried in his arse.

“Angel,” Harry coos in response.

Louis pushes his head against the pillow.

“Please, fuck me,” he begs.

“Tell me what else made you wear this,” Harry says, taking his mouth away from Louis’s hole and replacing it with teasing fingers, “then I might.”

Louis whimpers pathetically.

“Nothing,” he lies.

Harry circles his hole, rubs it, or glides a finger over it, but never pushes in like he knows Louis wants.

It’s driving Louis fucking mad.

“Tell me, baby,” Harry urges kindly.

He bites his bottom lip, keeping silent, and just when he contemplates opening his mouth, he feels the tip of Harry’s index finger nudge inside, and his whole body tenses. Thing is, Harry knows Louis too well; Louis isn’t so straight forward, or so daring, with such monumental things such as this, and Harry knows when he happens to be, it’s for more than one reason.

He’s just gonna keep pushing Louis’s buttons until he gives in.

But Louis’s already weak.

“No, the conversation wasn’t the sole reason,” he bites out when Harry’s finger is fully buried in his arse, unmoving.

“Hm, wasn’t it.”

“If you don’t start fingering me, I’m not gonna tell you shit,” Louis says.

That gets Harry laughing.

It’s a soft, joyous kind of sound that rings reassuringly in Louis’s chest, making the corners of his mouth twitch with a fleeting smile. But it’s forgotten as Harry languidly moves his finger in Louis. It’s not as dry as it would be because of the leftover saliva from his mouth, but there’s still a satisfying roughness to it.

“Bashful and shy, and quick to threaten,” Harry says, and Louis hears a smile in his voice. He feels Harry’s free hand against the side of his thigh, rubbing it in a gentle stroke. “You are the very love of my life.”

It’s so casually stated, but it makes Louis’s breastbone suffocate in heat.

“Shut up, knobhead,” he mumbles.

He lifts his head to look back, and Harry’s still smiling, eyes shining.

Louis’s so in love with him.

“I tell you that often, and you like it, but when I say it during sex—”

“I’m wearing this because I’ve, also, wanted you to fuck me in something like this for ages,” Louis interrupts him, “okay? Jesus.”

Harry doesn’t say anything.

He keeps fingering Louis at a slow pace, but it gradually picks up, Louis whining into the pillow. Harry teases spots where he’s most sensitive, either brushing them slightly, or passing them altogether, and, eventually, he carefully sneaks his middle finger in. It’s a rougher slide, a tough stretch, but it feels so fucking good.

“How long?” Harry asks, suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you wanted me to fuck you?” Harry clarifies.

Louis moans at the deep thrust of his fingers, arching his back, and stalls a little. “D’know,” he says. “Few years, probably.”

“You know,” Harry begins, fingering at a faster pace now, “you could’ve shown up at my door at any time and asked me to, and I would’ve happily done it, no questions asked. You didn’t need to wait for an opening, baby.”

“I—needed the push,” Louis admits.

Harry takes his fingers out, and then Louis’s being pushed onto his back.

He crawls up Louis’s body to hover over him, and Louis spreads his legs wider in desperation for something to fucking fill his hole again. It’s achingly and uncomfortably empty, and the line of Harry’s cock in his trackies is so prominent, now, it makes him whine a little. He wants Harry to tear him apart with it. He’d normally tell himself to get a grip, but it’s really difficult right now, and because he just doesn’t care anymore. He’d get on his knees and beg, if he had to.

Harry appears to sense that, by the telling way he looks at Louis and drags his eyes down his figure, then gripping his cock through his trackies.

Jesus Christ.

Louis takes the initiative to reach forward and try to pull it down, but his hands are gently smacked away.

“Behave, baby,” Harry says. Louis’s dick twitches. “Do you have any lube?”

“It’s in my bag,” Louis tells him.

Harry moves away from him and off the bed, walking over to Louis’ bag still open and a bit disorganised from earlier, and begins to search. Louis realises too late, then, that he didn’t put back the knickers that had fallen out when they accidentally came out with one he currently has on, and they’re laying on top of his boxers off to the side.

Harry’s fingers drift to them, picking up the black palm tree lace pair.

“Um,” Louis says.

Harry turns back to Louis, eyebrows raised and mouth parted, thong unfolded in his hands.

Louis sighs.

“Look,” he continues, defeated, “when a sign tells you that if you buy three pairs of something that you’ll get another three free, it’s kind of an unspoken rule that you have to buy it.”

Harry smiles, slightly shaking his head. “I think that’s just you, angel.”

“I don’t think it is,” Louis argues.

Harry hums.

He stares at the thong in his hands, and Louis’s about to pitch a fucking fit if he doesn’t get his arse moving and fuck him today, but Harry folds it and lays it where he found it to return searching for the lube. He crawls back onto the bed and over Louis after, and then tugs his clothing off.

Louis bites his lip as he stares at Harry’s cock.

It’s very thick, and even longer when it’s hard, its head a patchy, rosy colour, stiff and curved, and, shit, Louis can’t fucking think.

He just wants it in him.

“Hands and knees, or back, baby?” Harry asks.

Louis tears his eyes away.

“Knees,” he answers without thinking, turning himself over to get into that exact position, curving his spine and arching his bum while keeping his head low.

“Fucking Christ,” he hears Harry swear quietly.

Louis smirks.

“You good?” he asks innocently.

“Fine,” Harry answers.

Louis chuckles silently to himself, pressing his lips together in a smile, and listens to him opening the bottle. It’s a few moments before Louis feels anything, and when he does, it’s to Harry rubbing his cock against his hole. He bites his lip, spreading his legs even farther, and has to avoid thinking about his hard, leaking cock in his knicker. He’s going to end up caving and touching himself if he does, and he wants to last.

Harry pushes the head in.

Louis mewls, tightening his grip on the sheets beneath him.

“Good, baby?”

“Mhm,” Louis hums brokenly.

Harry continues to push the rest in, and it’s such a fucking stretch after being celibate for a long time; it fills him up in a way he had almost forgotten; it hurts him in the best way. He has to take a few deep breaths until Harry bottoms out, and then when he adjusts to the feeling, he chooses to move his hips in a slight figure eight motion.

Harry groans.

“Baby, please,” he says, placing his hands on Louis’s hips and squeezing.

“Whoops,” Louis says unapologetically, smiling.

Harry huffs out a light, amused breath, leaning forward then to press a gentle kiss to Louis’s upper back. He starts slow; they’re shallow thrusts the first few times, then once there’s something he fucks into Louis with his entire length, dragging it against his walls for him to feel every fucking bit of it.

Louis bites his pillow, moaning and whining as the white heat in his pelvic area increases.

It becomes worse, like he’s hanging onto a rapidly weakening vine against a wall, as Harry’s rhythm speeds up and he brushes against the same sensitive areas as earlier before directly hitting them and making Louis arch his back farther in a long moan, mind encompassing only the feeling of Harry’s cock bruising him and filling him hotly. He hears Harry breathing heavily and his own quiet moans and grunts falling from his mouth.

He feels himself slipping two minutes later.

Then, with absolutely no warning, Louis’s spilling in his knickers.

It’s warm and in short spurts, leaving his head and cock in a heady headspace. Harry continues to fuck him through it, even as he feels his hole clench tightly around his cock. Louis feels like he’s still coming even when he’s unable to produce anything else, wiping his teary eyes on the same pillow he was just roughly biting into.

Harry pulls out, leaving him feeling too stretched and empty.

He shifts his bum, trying to adjust to being empty after being fucked, and listens to the sounds of Harry working his hand over himself, moaning as he releases his come all over Louis’s arse.

Louis can’t be mad when he specifically dared Harry to make a mess.

“Are y’all right, Louis?” he asks then, sounding breathless and rough.

Louis sighs softly.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. He pulls a face when Harry wipes his arse with the duvet, and rolls over onto his back. “Seriously?”

Harry shrugs.

Cheeks red, eyes a richer green with a dreamy, glimmer coating, and lips a shade of that only comes from gnawing them — he looks as how Louis feels. He crawls over to lie beside Louis, wrapping an arm around Louis’s waist.

“I’m too lazy to get up,” he says.

He then kisses Louis’s cheeks, and pulls him against his chest.

Louis scoffs, warmth blossoming in his core and traveling throughout the nerves attached to his heart; they trickle in clumps to his legs, feet, toes, and up in his arms, head, back of his mind. But the generator is stationed in his chest, pumping and fueling it.

He lets the minutes pass in silence, but he breaks it when he can’t stop shifting his legs.

He digs his chin into Harry’s hard chest, looking up at him with purposely soft, big eyes. “Do you wanna go again?” he asks.

Harry’s raises a brow. “Again?” he says.

Louis’s cheeks burn.

“This time, I wanna wear the black lace ones that you saw earlier,” Louis tells him.

A beat passes.

“The one with the strappy waist?”

Louis smiles at Harry’s interested tone an the spark in his eyes. “Yes,” he answers, trailing fingers from his chest to his stomach.

“Go change into it.”

Louis kisses him, pulls away, and climbs off the climb to get to his bag.

[looselucy]

- Catch Up -

“How’s Liverpool? Still amazing?” My mum questioned. It was the very first time someone had asked me about living in my favourite place and I hadn’t replied with immediate excitement and electricity, nothing but positivity and joy enlacing every word. Instead, I rolled my eyes, turning over on my bed and staring up to the ceiling, sighing and trying to choose my words carefully before replying to her. “I dunno, to be honest. I think I might be done with Liverpool.”

“What do you mean?” “I think… maybe it’s time for a change.” I sighed. “Maybe… my reasons for moving here were a bit silly.” “Bellona, Sweetie, you’ve only just got yourself a new job! And your reasons were not silly at all. Anything you’re passionate about isn’t silly.” “Yeah, but unfortunately I’m passionate about a band who haven’t been about since the bloody sixties.” “Well, technically they didn’t officially call it a day until seventy.” My mother quipped. “Urgh, let’s not argue about this again.” I chuckled. I had made such a beautiful life for myself in Liverpool. I was working again, in a good job, one I was starting to love. I had a great network of friends. I loved the place and everything about it; the culture, the people, the history. Everything. But for the past few weeks I’d been feeling utterly miserable. I felt like I needed a change. I needed to remove myself from that existence and explore something new. “I’m going to pass you onto your dad, because I know you’ll actually talk to him about what’s going on in that little noggin of yours.” “Alright.” I groaned. There was a slight shuffling and some mumbling before I heard my dads voice, accompanied by the sound of footsteps, like he was walking the following conversation into another room. There was something about my dad that helped me to open up. He was very tender, kind, always good with advice and aware of the right thing to say. “Hello, you!” He beamed. “Hiyaaaaa.” “What’s up then? What’s going on?” “M’thinking of leaving Liverpool.” “And why’s that?” I’d been pretty quiet about what was going on recently. I didn’t necessarily feel like I had anyone I could talk to about it all, so I just hadn’t! That was about to change. “Me and Harry have had a… fall out.” “That’s not like you two.” “No, it’s not.” I sighed. “But it’s now been eight whole days since I last spoke to him, and even that was just… this big argument. I guess… being here has always centred around him, and I’m only just realising it. Now we’re not friends… I dunno. Liverpool has lost a lot of its appeal.” I had no intention of speaking to Harry, despite how difficult even the concept of that was. The way the conversation the week before had panned out left me with no desire to reach out to him or try to save our friendship. I missed him every second of every day, but all I could think about was how he’d spoken as though my affections were something he worried about gaining, how after sharing an evening with me that felt so intimate and right, his main concern was that I’d focused too much on the emotional factors than the physical ones. And he was right, I had, and if that was something he wanted to reject, it was the right thing to walk away from him. Entirely. “What did you fall out about? Surely it’s something you can fix?” My dad spoke hopefully. “M’not sure it is, y’know? He kinda… thought I was feeling more for him. More… than a friendship, if that makes sense.” “It does.” “And he seemed so… It was like he thought that would be a really bad thing. And it’s not even true! I don’t feel that way about him, but the way he reacted to thinking I did… It’s just a mess. Made me… see him differently. I still think he’s the best person, but he’s so… fucked in the head sometimes. He cares so much about not hurting people it’s like he can just be… totally void of emotions, sometimes. It’s stupid. He struggles with attachment.” “Well, I know full well he’s very attached to you.” “I used to think so too.” “He is, Bellona. You two are very close. It’s clear you mean a lot to him, and I’ve never even met him.” All my parents had ever really experienced of Harry was my stories, the way I spoke about him, how he intertwined with almost every tale I had to tell when I went back to see them. There had also been the odd time when I’d been on the phone to my parents, and Harry had grabbed it out of my hand and spoke to either of them like they were old friends. I couldn’t imagine what my dad would be saying if he had actually seen the two of us together, experienced our bond first-hand. I knew it was irreplaceable. “I remember when you first made friends with him.” He continued. “You liked him because he wore a ring on every finger.” “Just like Ringo did.” I mumbled, glum, empty. “And that’s why he changed from Richard to Ringo. Which is ridiculous, given how great a name Richard is.” “You would say that.” I huffed, finally laughing a little. “It’s your bloody name.” “Exactly!” He laughed. “But I remember you saying you’d found your very own Ringo. I knew immediately that he was someone special.” I felt my bottom lip beginning to tremble, thinking back to those early days, the first time I’d seen him outside of work. He had a ring on every single finger on his right hand, which I complimented immediately, and he blushed and thanked me. That was when he’d first learnt about my love for Ringo, and every day since, until the last few weeks, I felt like we’d learnt something new about one another. I missed learning about him. I missed his voice. I missed the way things used to be. “He is special.” I choked, withholding tears. “And you’re sure it’s just a friendship?” He asked. I tilted my head back a little more, staring at the wall above the headrest of my bed, looking at the Yellow Submarine that Harry had made from cardboard and painted with love two years earlier for my birthday when he was skint. I closed my eyes, pressing my brows to the centre and gritting my teeth so hard I thought they may shatter. “I’m not sure about anything anymore.” I replied.

I’d stayed up on the phone to my dad for far too long. We spoke about anything and everything, and the only thing that brought the conversation to a halt was when I’d been rambling on for a little too long and then heard him snoring down the line. The following day at work, I was struggling to keep my eyes open, on my third coffee before I’d even gone for lunch. Everything was much more difficult than it needed to be. Max began his approach, rather hesitantly, looking both suspicious and amused. “You rough?” He questioned, sitting himself down on the edge of my desk. “I wish.” I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. “I was on the phone to my dad until pretty late.” “I’m not buying that.” He sniggered. “You don’t have to, but it’s true.” I could tell he didn’t believe me, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but I was very happy in the knowledge I was telling the truth, and my evening had been wholly innocent. Everyone at work was lovely; they all made an effort with me, and whenever I was struggling or confused they were always there to help and never made me feel like I was being an idiot, which I appreciated more than I could voice. It was taking some time for me to fully grasp my new role. Max, however, was especially lovely. It surprised me, a little. I thought after the way we’d started and the Maxwell Edison debacle would have made him avoid me like the plague, but he’d done quite the opposite. He was definitely the one I’d been most chatty with. “Gunna nip out and get some Thai food for lunch. My treat. You want anything?” “You’re a dream.” I groaned. “If they’ve got Massaman, I’d love that.” “Consider it done. How you doing today? Other than being hungover.” “I’m not hungover.” I laughed. “M’alright. Still feel like I’m finding my feet. Is that bad?” “Not at all. It’s a new role, so we’re all trying to figure it out, really. You’ll get there, and until then, I’ll be here helping.” “Thanks.” I smiled coyly. He shot me a relatively quizzical look, one I couldn’t place or read, though I tried. I tilted my head, letting him know I was quietly attempting to figure him out, encouraging him to say what was on his mind. “What’re you doing this weekend?” “Um… No plans yet. Why?” “I wanna take you out.” I tried not to look too alarmed by his statement, concerned my shock may portray as a look of disgust, because that certainly wasn’t how I felt, but nor did I feel good about what’d he’d just proposed. Max was great! He was a few years older than me, good looking, kind, intelligent. He’d been nothing but nice to me since I started, so I felt as though I should have been jumping at the chance and jumping for joy that he’d even asked me in the first place. Yet I didn’t feel that way at all. The very first thing I thought was how I’d have to go on the date alone, which I was not used to after so many god-awful years of double dating alongside Harry. As painful as that had been, more times than not, it was a routine I’d gotten used to. I wasn’t sure I knew how to date one on one. But that wasn’t the only reason I was thinking of Harry. It was like I could feel his lips on my neck as Max looked down to me waiting for me to form a reply. I could feel Harry’s hands on me, hear him whispering, telling me I was beautiful. I wished I could have thought of his latter words. I wished I was recalling the way he’d been with me in that bar the week before, but instead my mind immediately leapt towards what it had felt like to be with him at our most beautiful, rather than our ugliest. “Like… a date?” I stuttered. “Yes.” He was obscenely confident, patiently awaiting my answer. I cursed my mind, feeling blessed that I’d moved on from thinking of Harry but cringing over the fact that I was once again fixating on Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, and the fact that Maxwell Edison asking a woman out on a date wound up with her being dead. I tried to shake my thoughts, of both Harry and The Beatles, but that was a near impossible ask, given it was me. If there was a collection of things I thought about far too often, they would be at the very top of the list. “Are you allowed to date colleagues?” I tried to quip, being playful. “I believe so. Wouldn’t it be fun if we got in trouble though?” He raised his brows, rather suggestively. “I say we find out.” It was a relatively quiet office. We had the radio on, but it wasn’t overwhelming, and thanks to how spaced out it was in there, we’d gained the attention of a few of the people around us, looking over their shoulders and smiling our way. I needed the interaction to end. “I’ll think about it.” I simply said. “You’ll think about it?” He raised his brows, seemingly surprised. “Yeah.” I shrugged. “I’ll weigh up my options. I could be very busy this weekend, I dunno. I’m in high demand.” “I bet.” He smirked. “Alright. Let me know.” “I will.” He seemed intrigued as he hopped off my desk and walked away from me, glancing back over his shoulder once before turning around, shaking his head, and going back to his own workspace to collect his wallet before heading out to grab us some food. I watched him leave, chewing nervously at my lip, and the very second he was out the door I leapt up and scuttled over to Babs, who was waiting eagerly for me to arrive. “Did you hear that?” I gasped. “I did, I did!” She seemed just as excited. Thanks to the industry, we were a heavily female dominated office, and that subsequently meant that I’d only been at Babs side for a second before a few of the other girls who had overheard the conversation were coming to join us and gossip between ourselves. “I had no idea what to say!” I placed my hand on my chest, trying to calm down. “You should have said yes!” Pam piped up. “I dunno.” “No,” Babs tapped my arm excitedly. “I think you did good to keep him on his toes. Probably has enough girls falling at his feet.” “Does he do this with like… every new starter?” I questioned. The whole time he’d been speaking to me, I felt nervous and strange and too consumed by other thoughts to even entirely take in his proposition. But speaking to the other women in my office, suddenly I felt all excited and giggly. It felt nice. “Just the one girl, when the company first started.” Babs told me, her knowledge helpful since she’s been there from the very beginning. “But they were in a long-term relationship. He was smitten with her.” “So why did that end?” “Why does anything end?” She shrugged. “Sometimes these things just fall apart, even when you really love someone.” I nodded, immediately shooting my eyes down to the floor, her words clogging up within my throat, enough to make my mood drop once more. “I’d just be wary,” Pam spoke again. “Maxwell Edison and all that.” I shot my head up hearing that, eyes wide, holding my hands out to her. “Me and you,” I gawped. “We’re totally on the same wavelength. Can I date you?” She laughed appreciatively, crinkling her nose as she did. Just over a week after starting there, I was steadily beginning to feel as though I was building relationships with my colleagues that had the potential to function beyond the workplace. It felt good to be around people I could truly see myself being friends with. Once again, I began wondering if the best plan was for me to stay in Liverpool, or if maybe I should have just quit and moved on before I got too attached to a life there without Harry playing a role in it. It didn’t feel like something I wanted to be attached to. He was everywhere. I shared memories and moments with him in every crevasse of that city, so much so I felt as though I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing him built within the brickwork and feel him flowing within the wind. I was reminded of him constantly, and it was becoming exhausting. I didn’t want to head home, either. The tiny town where I had grown up meant next to nothing to me, even my parents wanted to leave, they’d just become too settled there. I’d made a conscious decision to leave, to burn the town where I was born so that it was nothing but glittering ash in the back of my mind, and maybe the time had come to place Liverpool within those ashes, set it alight and let it disperse. “He seems nice.” I mumbled after thinking for a while, letting the rest of the girls mumble around me. “That’s because he is.” Babs encouraged, waiting for a more solid answer from me. Nodding again, I wandered slowly back over to my desk, dragging my feet as I went. I couldn’t deny that I was intrigued to know what it would be like to spend time with a boy and get to know him without the looming doubt of him subsequently beginning to hate the relationship I had with Harry, because that was a relationship that no longer existed. What I’d said to Harry the night that he’d kissed me was true; no relationship would ever work with us being as close as we were. It was too intense, no one had ever been able to understand it. Maybe I could finally make something work. I still had eyes on me as I sat down, people eagerly awaiting more news from me, but I just smiled and shrugged. “Like I said,” I exhaled. “I’ll think about it.”

That night, I sat with my knees crossed on my living room floor, rain pouring so heavily outside that despite the fact my living room was windowless, I could still hear the downpour crashing down onto the building from above, and against the window in my bedroom down the hall. I sat flicking through my vinyl collection, trying to decide what it was I wanted to listen to. After drinking so many coffees that day, I was once again awake much later than I should have been, and I wanted to listen to something soothing that would trick my body into a state of exhaustion. During my initially mindless search, I stumbled across a Stone Roses vinyl, one that Harry had given me a few months earlier, but I’d never gotten around to listening to. I froze, hovering over it, wondering if I should finally pay it some attention or if I’d only wind up depressing myself in the process. I pulled it from the box, my chest heaving as I removed the sleeve from its home, hating how many ways Harry had etched himself into my life. Before I could even get to the vinyl, I spotted a note he’d attached to the inner sleeve. Listen and fall in love. X Instantly, I put it back in its place, shaking my head and trembling, choosing to ignore my instinct to listen, and his message asking me to fall in love. Feeling so emotionally and mentally attached to someone I was trying not to acknowledge was infuriating, to say the very least. I knew that even if I did move from Liverpool, he was etched upon my belongings too, making him almost impossible to escape. I just wanted it to be easier than it was. I didn’t want to feel the way I was feeling. I continued my search, tapping my fingers across the tops of the cases to separate them, feeling as though I was just on the verge of settling on a sound, when an unexpected one grabbed my attention. I bolted my head to look behind me, hearing the unmistakable sound of the lock in my door rattling, and I felt as though my heart stopped beating completely, simply listening to the unsettling noises, fretting over what my course of action should be. Though my building wasn’t the best, I had never really felt any need to worry there, I had never felt unsafe, and even upon hearing those sounds, after a temporary moment of panic, I decided not to overthink and to instead, deal with the situation head on. I raised to my feet, slowly making my way out of my living room and trailing down the hallway. I kept my eye on the door as I moved, seeing it shake, the lock twisting and shuddering, my heart mimicking its pattern. I took a deep breath in once I’d reached the door, turning the lock on the inside and only being able to pull at the handle for a second before Harry had pushed himself indoors, pinned me against the wall and kissed me, fervent and feverish. Without thinking, I was kissing him back, tasting the mint upon his tongue, reaching up and running my hand through his soaking wet hair. His clothes were damp, sharing the sodden material with my body as he pushed himself up to me, trapping me in place and grabbing at my waist, moaning miraculously into my mouth. His desperation was palpable, and I imagined mine was too. I clawed at him, embracing his body, immersed by the sensation of his tongue fooling with mine. I couldn’t think of anything other than him, his lips, his hands, and my heart. “I missed you.” He groaned. I didn’t return the words, despite the fact I felt the same way. I had missed him more than I could ever describe, but I couldn’t fathom that in those moment. I just wanted to kiss him. I just wanted to be with him. It was clear he was feeling a mixture of emotions, evident in the tenor of his grunts, the way he grabbed onto me, his breathlessness and the way he’d just leapt for me, like my lips were a fantasy he’d been dying to materialise. I couldn’t place all of his emotions, but I could feel them, like they were radiating from his body and sinking into mine. The cocktail of his complicated emotions tasted so sweet, a flavour I wanted to rest on the tip of my tongue for an eternity. The mixture of his moods was being produced as a passion I had never known the likes of. I should have been telling him to stop. This was exactly what we’d been liked when we’d slept together; we didn’t talk, we just grabbed at that passion without ever discussing what was happening or why it was happening, why we were experiencing those impulses so intensely. Nothing had been okay between us for weeks, and that should have been at the forefront of our minds. An honest discussion should have been the only thing upon our lips. But when he kissed me like that, it felt physically impossible to push him away; even the concept of saying anything that could shatter the moment felt negligent. “M’gunna make you come.” He gasped before biting beautifully at my bottom lip. “Harry-” He didn’t let me speak, smothering my mouth with his, possibly afraid that I was about to see sense and halt our actions. I reached upwards, holding his pink cheeks within my hands, wondering why he was as drenched as he was, questioning whether he’d been outside debating with himself whether or not to let himself into my building and into my flat and cultivate his cravings. What was strange was how when I’d last kissed him, there had been a part of me that felt unsure, that felt confused and startled by what was happening between us. None of those feelings existed when I kissed him then. I felt bizarrely serene, like I was coming home. It shouldn’t have been that way after all the bullshit we’d been through in the past month, but there was something about Harry and the way I felt when I was with him, something about the two of us together. I pulled away from him, parting our lips and crashing my head against the wall behind me, my stomach twisting as one of his large hands reached up and fastened to the side of my neck. “Don’t stop.” He begged, trying to close the gap again. “Please, Lona-” “I’m not, I don’t want to stop.” I swallowed. “I wanna go to bed. C’mon.” I hitched away from him, edging my way out of the trap he’d created in an attempt to make my way to my bedroom, but something stopped me quite quickly. I was only a few steps in the right direction when I heard him stumbling, turning myself to see him taking a few steps backwards as he lost his balance, unsteady on his feet. My mood changed in a second. I’d glued myself to the spot, glaring at him as he tried to follow me, soon noticing that I was no longer moving. “Are you drunk?” I asked quietly, tilting my head upwards when his body got too close to mine. “What?” “Are you drunk?” I asked again. “No. Nah, m’good.” He tried to move again, but I wasn’t budging, my nostrils flaring as his body hit mine, his head down to the floor. “Look at me.” I demanded. “Lona-” “Look me in the fucking eye, Harry!” I yelled. Clenching his jaw, he apprehensively raised his vision to latch with mine, now unable to hide his bloodshot eyes. He was fucked. Without thinking what I was doing, I pushed him from me, using all my might to send him stumbling back down the hallway towards my front door, not quite able to comprehend the rage I was feeling. I felt so fucking stupid, for letting him in at all, for kissing him and accepting his embraces when he did not deserve even an ounce of my attention. What he’d said to me the week before should have summed it all up for me, it should have been enough of an answer and enough to keep me from yet again handing myself over to him and allowing myself to be vulnerable when he didn’t want my vulnerability or my devotion. He only wanted my body and I should have fucking known. “Get the fuck out!” “No.” He argued weakly, head back down to the floor. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FLAT, HARRY!” “NO!” “You’re such a fucking coward.” I trembled, still with veracity, but with tears streaming down my cheeks. “I don’t want to see you again, I want you out!” “LONA-” “You don’t just get to want me when you’re drunk and ignore me when you’re sober!” I roared. “I am worth more than that! I should mean more to you than that! Fuck you! Get out!” “You don’t understand-” He paced towards me again. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” I shrieked at him, forcing him to cower. “You can’t just pick and choose when you want my affections and which ones you’re okay with!” He was still a little unsteady on his feet, my words tightening around him and bringing trembles from the very core of his body, and it was really like he couldn’t look at me. I thought he’d pushed in there and kissed me so suddenly because I was all he wanted, but looking at him then I realised it was largely down to the fact that he was trying to hide his state from me, trying to cover his lack of poise and his bright red eyes. He didn’t want me to know that once again, it was alcohol that had brought his lips to mine. The mint I’d tasted was there to try and disguise whatever it was he'd spent his evening drinking, and he had only decided he wanted to see me when he was drunk enough to stomach my company once again. “I don’t wanna leave.” He whispered down to the ground. “That’s not your choice to make.” I huffed, trying to get past him and open the door. He moved for me again, clutching my cheek and turning my head so he could put his lips on mine, but I pushed him from me within a second, and with much more strength than I had done before. He stumbled, crashing against the pink wall behind him, then unable to take his eyes off me, staring at me desperately like I had just crushed his entire existence. But I felt like he had crushed mine. “I’m done with you, Harry.” I told him, unsympathetically. “I want you to leave. And I don’t want to see you again.” “You’re lying.” He quivered. “I’m not!” I screeched. “You’ve fucked this up. You’ve fucked everything up!” “We fucked everything up!” He argued, finding some equilibrium just to stand up to me. “We had sex, Lona! It’s not just my fault!” “I’m not talking about that, Harry! How do you not understand?” I cried. “I was ready to fix things with you after that night. I wanted to save us! But every move you’ve made since has made me feel worthless. That’s why you’ve ruined everything.” “I don’t know how to deal with this!” He placed his hand on his chest, and I noted the tears in his eyes. “I have no idea how to… understand what I’m feeling! I don’t know… the right thing to do! I’ve not dealt with this before, you can’t expect me to be perfect!” “I don’t expect anything from you anymore, Harry.” I scowled. “The only thing I want from you now, is for you to leave. And I don’t want you to come back.” “Lona, please-” “Give me your key.” I commanded. “What?” “Give me your key and get the fuck out!” He shook his head, his bottom lip trembling as the first few tears spilled, lolling his head back against the wall, his throat hitching. I held my hand out, waiting for him to pass over the key that I’d purposefully gotten cut for him, because I no longer wanted him to have that easy access not just to my home, but to my life, to me. I was done. “I’m not walking away from you.” He spoke with sorrow. “M’not doing this.” “You’ve already done this. We can’t save this now, Harry. It’s gone too far.” He released a light sob, shaking as he went to reach into his back pocket to retrieve my key, trying rather urgently to compose himself as he did. I watched him hesitating, and all too soon he’d brought his empty hand back to the front of his body, and simply shook his head again. “You’re such a fucking child.” I stormed the short distance towards the door, swinging it open and then approaching him once more. “I’ll change the locks.” “Don’t do this, Lona, please-” I grabbed at his t-shirt and dragged him from his spot, practically throwing him towards the door. “I’m sorry, please listen to me!” “I’ve heard enough.” I was finally able to get him outside, pushing him into the hall, the alcohol he’d drank making him tumble forward for a moment before he straightened himself and tried to get back inside, rushing towards me. “STOP! Lona, listen, I’m in-” I slammed the door in his face, crashing the wood against the frame and locking him out, slinging the chain across so that even with his key he didn’t stand a chance of getting back to me. I finally felt as though I could release the ambush of tears that had been somewhat constrained throughout our argument, but not fully. I wished I hadn’t cried at all, but at least I had managed to hold in those tears, because they were so intense, so overwhelming, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to be as strong as I had been. I wouldn’t have even been able to speak if I had been weeping the way I was then. He banged his fist ruthlessly against my door, crying my name. “LEAVE OR I’LL CALL THE POLICE!” I screamed. He produced one more bang, much more aggressive than the last, and then he stopped. I experienced a moment of silence before I heard his footsteps, finally traipsing off down the corridor, cursing loudly as he went, but at least he was leaving. I bolted to my bedroom, leaping up onto my bed and ripping the Yellow Submarine he’d made me off the wall, screaming as I threw it down onto the floor before collapsing completely, crumbling downwards. I curled up, grasping at the duvet with my fingers and crying heavier than I ever had before in my whole life. I had never felt worse than I did in that moment. I had never known that agony could pierce a heart so severely. Laying there, my blurred vision fluttering over the cardboard cut-out, I realised more than ever before that Harry was all around me at all times. He was up on my walls, woven within my bedsheet, carved into my lifestyle in every way he could be. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to exist in that space. I wanted to be a million miles away, somewhere I had never been before, surrounded by new people and new cultures and a life so separate from the one I had been leading that Harry would not appear in every inch that surrounded me. I’d made up my mind, or rather, he had made it up for me. I was going to leave Liverpool.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Who Names The Colors~

Hi loveys!! I’m home! I was ready to be, though I’ll miss the beach and monkeys! Here is your new chapter! Usual warnings apply- These two seem to not be able to stop themselves from weaving themselves together despite the reasons not to! Like the 20 year age gap. 

Are they crazy? Am I? Are you? Come talk to me if they are!

I owe a lot of my sanity and creativity to @nocontrolforlouis, @dirtystyles, and @bleedinglove4h! Look at the pretty banners, the songs, and the lack of horrible mistakes, all them!

And did you all see that RESTED WROTE ME A GIFT FIC in the WNTC Universe- still buzzin! Search my blog or hers for Stirring the Pot! AHHH- I’ll have an extra it inspired on Thursday after posting to!

Jo was used to Harry giving her space for a couple days when she ran on him. It was a bit sad that they already had habits about it. She couldn't decide what was worse, that she was always running after they got close physically, or that she had gotten close enough to need to run again. Yesterday had been worse, because the closeness was physical to be sure, but it was more than sexual and crossed into affection and flirted with intimacy. Jo felt like this was the time that she needed space desperately.

Her feelings were gonna drown her, she could feel them welling up and painting had not helped. Because she wanted to see him, to talk to him, to stay by him. And her spaces, where Jo worked through her feelings, were haunted by him now. Her studio carried his essence and her memories and the things she wanted to paint were forms of mourning or longing for him.

All of her concerns, those most certainly still existed and were the undertow that made all that water dangerous.

Jo was still Harry's advisor, though she had checked her rosters and luckily when school started in  4 days time, he would not be in any of her classes to sit front and center and make her skin feel to tight on her bones and her heart a helium balloon trying to escape her rib cage.  That would be some kind of relief.

She was still 20 years older than him. That was not a fact that was going to change, though in some ways she was sure that he was light years ahead of her, certainly in his talent, and his heart. That boy was the most considerate person ever, asking her is she needed to get Zoe before their last round yesterday, though it would have left him with balls so blue they were fauvist. His singularity had her on her back, metaphorically. Was he just born that way?

Born that way when she was already bearing a son, she reminded herself.

Bearing a son, who was her main reason to not do this, to keep in mind that the biggest complication was a relationship more important than any she could make with Harry. No matter how many threads she and Harry tied together, Ethan was the going on of her and their bonds were blood and DNA. Blood was thicker than water no matter how liquid Harry made her feel. They could not get into this. It was to complicated and, she could not shake the feeling it was wrong, or crossed too many lines or was just to selfish. She had other people who depended on her and no matter how much Jo wanted to run away to or run into that golden valley Harry opened up inside her, she was not allowed to.

That's why him showing up on her doorstep threw her immediately onto her back foot. Her resolve was not strong enough against him, and he'd bulldozed through every other wall she had built up against him so far. The 16 hours since she could actually feel him rather than his phantom touches was not enough to do much more that throw up some paper mache and scrawl Ethan and Zoe and teacher and job all over them.

He was here though, so she was going to have to fake it until she made it she guessed. Maybe if she pretended that her fortifications against him were made of stacked stones and she only cared to look at him from the highest turret, he would leave her along in her paper castle and she could build it better for next time.

"Harry you can't keep just showing up here." Jo crossed her arms and stared him down. Or drank him in, she hoped her posture and put upon stare were believable.

"And you can't keep running from me," He emphasized. "And I've been just showing up at your house for 10 years now." Harry threw his hand like he was knocking away her excuses like flies.

"yeah Harry, when Ethan's home. people will talk." People would talk and they would be right

"Jo it's not out of the ordinary for me to be here. You're overthinking it. I can show up if you need me to and I needed to see what was wrong. I could just feel something was off with you, like a pit in my stomach." He placed his hand over the center of his butterfly and her eyes stuck there, like a stone in her tummy too.

"Nothing's wrong with me Harry, I'm busy. I have to get everything ready for Monday, and I needed to get Z0--"

"Did I make you late to get Zoe? I asked you if you needed to go before that last time." He smirked at her and it totally undermined his sweetness, that he was happy she stayed that last time.

"What are you doing, Harry? What are we doing? This whole village knows everything everybody is doing. Can't you just hear it? It'll get round to your mother, your mum Harry, who is my age!" She sighed. "and then Ethan will hear when he's home, down at the pub, how his best mate is fucking his mum? That can't happen, and that is what will happen if you keep this up. That's what's wrong Harry, with this, but that's all fine, right?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's obvious why are you leaving my house at all hours of the morning or coming at all hours of the morning or sleeping ove--."

"Oh you inviting me to sleep over? I didn't know we were at that stage but I'm thankful to see that you recognize what's going on here." Harry huffed at her when his joke fell flat.

"I recognize that you think there is more going on than is." He threw his hands out and she noticed his eyes were an entirely new shade of green, they looked like a tropical frog's back, beautiful but dangerous.

"No, Jo! stop! There is more going on than you're willing to look at and you kno--."

"Harry people are going to talk! And it's not worth anybody finding out. You can't just come over here whenever

"Not worth anybody finding out? Why the fuck do you care about anybody seeing us?"

"Because it's wrong!" She finally yelled in frustration and laced her arms together. But it felt nice to say the truth that had been festering in her mind for months, years at this point.

Harry's entire body shuddered for a moment. He looked at his feet for just a second, and then stared into the center of her. "This is not wrong Jo- we are not wrong, it's a couple years." He insisted.

He looked like she'd kicked him in the stomach, that's why this hurt to see she decided. He looked like he'd taken a blow. He approached her slowly, like a spooked horse, until she was inside her kitchen and he was too.

"20! It's 20 years!! I could be your mother!" That itched at her, saying it was a relief, like when you find that spot that keeps moving. It needed to be said out loud, so they couldn't ignore it anymore.

"You are very much not my mother!" He took her hands and even though she didn't want it to, Jo's body relaxed enough that she could feel it and she let him hold part of her. "Jo, does this feel wrong to you? Do we feel wrong, baby?" He said the word like it was made of glass and approached her like she was too.

"But I am your professor, your teacher!" She threw up another layer of paper on her walls.

"Come off it Jo! I'm teaching you Just as much- which is the way a relationship is supposed to be." He went for her waist then while he peeled her layers. So she threw up another.

She had to put up more defenses. "What relationship- we've fucked a few times!"

"Yeah Jo! you'd risk everything for a fuck- I must be damn good" he looked pissed again, furrowed brow and ran his hand through his hair before he assumed a haughty posture on the last word.

"Don't be smug , you little ass!" Her posture swelled on that wave of anger and she pointed her finger at him.

He rushed into her space, "I'm not little, I'm a man, and I'm yours- you know that right?" He took her finger then and ran a hand up to her elbow. The wave created inside her and crashed down.

Jo goes silent, can feel her anger uselessly lapping at the shores of her heart. She had to duck dive under that wave and couldn't find the energy. So she lets it wash over her.

Jo knows she should refute his assertion strongly, but, her whole body warmed and her heart beat faster, when he said it.

Hers.

She belonged to a lot of people, she was Ethan's mum, and Zoe's too, she was a teacher, and then a mentor, and now a professor. She belonged to people, especially her kids, and she was raising them to release them to someone else. But Harry wanted to be hers, was offering himself, and it would be just for her. She wanted him to be hers. Which she knew, but was sure she should not have him. How selfish was it to take this, wholly for herself, despite the risks.

"Jo, C' mom," he gripped both elbows and pulled her a little closer, like half a hug, "I feel your moods and know your needs and we, we just work. I can feel that you want to touch me back right now, think you shouldn't. - you're in my mind all the time, and I know I'm on yours can't help but look at me every time I'm anywhere need you."

"That's just lust," she threw some modge podge on their sticky situation.

"Yeah Joe, the full hearts in your eyes, just sexual. Oh, and the risk, sounds like you. To risk the respect you've had to earn for an orgasm. And the job you love that gives you the chance to create and mold minds! And that you'd," he choked a little, "that you'd hurt your son, who we both love, just for a fuck! Sounds exactly like something you'd do! Totally a part of your character! Christ Jo, you forget I've watched you for years! Known you half my life."

That smarted. But she knew she was risking all of these things, and that she tortured herself over them, but she still didn't want to stay away from him. Didn't seem to be able to. Even though she'd known him since he was a boy. That always cropped up in her mind, like the weeds in a otherwise pleasant garden. It was unfair that they were so mismatched in age but well suited otherwise. How did she get out of this, show them both it couldn't work, but give them a chance to experience it so the need would go away. She let him hold her  a bit closer while he continued talking.

"Watched you bite your lip and worry and give advice, and stop yourself from giving advice. Watched you forgo sleep and stay up late doing school projects, cleaning clothes, cleaning floors, watched you take food off your plate and put it on his." His eyes bore down on her, and she remembered all those things mothers do, everyday, that nobody sees. But Harry did. "If I'm nothing but a way to get off, and you'd put Ethan at risk for that, I don't know you at all!" At that he wrapped her up in him, and put his nose to hers, "But I do, I know you!"

She was dumbfounded. Felt like she needed to say 'You're right, it's not worth it because the risks remain. And I can't risk Ethan" But it mattered so much that he knew her, saw her, chose her. Even if she should ask him to leave, maybe even transfer his advisorship, ask him not to come over to see Ethan, Jo couldn't and she could only get out his name.

"Harry..."

She swore Harry lit up like a Christmas tree, like the one she let Ethan put the tinsel all over when he was wee even though she thought it was ugly because of his glee. So she buried his face in her neck, and he kept talking.

"Jo give it an actual shot if only for a minute just to try. Let yourself feel it, feel me, something for me." His voice opened like the dawn, "Let's go somewhere, like a real date. Give me a chance, give us a real one, without fetters, where we can feel what it is like to be a real couple and you can see it's not wrong or even weird! That it feels right! It feels so right to me."\

"People are gonna think I'm your mom!" There was that to, the vanity.

"No, they are gonna think I'm punching way above my weight." And he knew she was soft, could feel that her shoulders had come down, and he moved to press his lips to hers and held her close, "because I am. Know it."

So, she found herself in his car mid Saturday morning, after having rationalized herself to death that this was to appease the what ifs in both their heads. To prove all her fears right and then be able to move past the want. So she had agreed to the date that Harry planned and made arrangements.

Audrey had been happy to come sit with Zoe, overnight she winked when Jo told her she had a date. Jo did not tell her it was with the hot swim instructor who's two years seniority Audrey had declared a big gap. And she was ignoring that gap and it's weighty implications today. She was going to give Harry what he asked for and go on the date with an open mind and heart and just be with him. Just for a minute, an hour, a day, until somebody stared or she couldn't ignore his immaturity or they had radically different taste in music, and art, and well, she imagined everything with their generational gap. But she could just give him the day, she wanted to.

She drove to his apartment, and was charmed by his car immediately. It was an early 90's Volkswagen Eurovan. When he walked her to it she quipped, "I thought you couldn't get your amber waves lady to me? You absolute liar!" She hopped just a little bit up to get in the car.

Harry looked sheepish for just a moment until he caught her smile and a cheeky grin took over his face. "Well, she's big and heavy, and taking her back and forth would be a pain. The first time was legitimate, and she was just coming out. After that...." he smirked at her.

"After that what?" she slapped his hand as he set his phone into some cup he had in between the two seats.

"I might have noticed that you seemed to," he started the engine and side eyed her with an eyelash flutter, "really like my studio."

"God, am I that obvious?" She pulled her hand back and he caught it and held it, brought it to his lips.

"Not so much, and I didn't pick it up right away, but when you said my name, in that way only you ever have," he groaned, "and well, I could feel it after that, the way your eyes touched me, and I could see you shifting around on your stool, and I could just, the mood in there.... course I wanted to get you back there whenever possible."

Jo blushed and looked away, put her hands in her lap, then realized she didn't have a seat belt on. Before she could reach across herself, Harry caught her hands and reached across the console to get her attention. When she looked at him he was biting his lip and looked hesitant, but she could tell he wanted her attention, so she turned into him and gave him it and her eyes. She only had them for him it seemed. "H?"

"I don't think I need to say this, like, you seem to already be trying, but I just," And he leaned in and kissed her, and she pulled away to look around to make sure no students might be in their vicinity, though she wasn't even sure that many students lived in his complex.

Harry sighed, "Sorry, thought it'd make me braver. Forgot where we are. But there's not many students here, and well, I just want to be together, today, um, and not worry about it, see how it feels." He put his hands in his lap then, "and I wanted to ask you to be there with me, I know it's a bubble, but can we just live in it for a while?" His brow rose and his eyes were big and round and jade today.

"Yes, I can, I'm trying, but we need to get away to do that. You said you had a plan? Where are we going?" She leaned over and touched his chin, then spun a curl around her finger. She loved his look today, his hair down and curly and covered by a hat, and a see through velour shirt over his broad shoulders, and tight jeans, the ones with the ripped pocket and brown boots. He looked like such a bohemian art student and she was ineffably charmed. Jo was going to take this opportunity to be affectionate and touch him as much as she could.

"Nope, not telling," he made a lock and key sign at his fleshy pout and pretended to throw it away, but she wanted to open his mouth right then. He was so cute.

It only got worse while he drove them onto the motorway and she watched him shift the car and felt it in her stomach, deep. He handled the car like it was an extension of himself. His shifts were smooth and well timed. He didn't force it into gear, he guided it, but he was in control. There was some metaphor there she was trying to work out, but watching the flex of his forearm and dance of his mermaid and beat of his heart was making hers pound. She shifted in her seat and watched the road.

"Are we going to Liverpool?" She asked when she noticed the turns he was making and wondered if Harry knew she grew up nearby.

"Like I said, I'm not telling. Will you put on some music, there is this band I want you to hear, think you will like them. Called The Aces, downloaded them the other day." He handed her the phone and smirked when she took it carefully so as not to touch him.

Three songs in and she was wiggling a little in her chair to the beat and giggled when Harry shimmied his shoulders at her, and sang a little bit to her. "Making me feel like I could go crazy!"

And he reached across and took her hand and held it like he had in his studio. She figured this would be a chatty drive, but right now it was so nice to just hold his hand.

They started talking when he said, "Hey, baby, can you put on the playlist called colours?"

Jo nodded and thrilled at the baby, like every other time, but didn't admonish herself like usual. Her song, the one he had sang to her came on and they shared the lyrics together like a creed. Like today they would do the work and live the song. He smiled at her and said, "there's another song on there you need to hear."

"Oh yeah?" she flirted with him, like she was a much younger lady.

"Yeah, it's definitely one of ours, It's called 'Jenny Don't Be Hasty.'"

"Weird title!" Jo scanned for it.

"Spot on lyrics, though."

And once they started to play, she caught his cheeky joke. "You are not 18! Nearly 23!" she pushed his shoulder.

"See, you can even marry me!"

"Think we should finish our first date before we go there, idiot. Maybe get to know each other a bit better. Know a bit about marrying fast, not doing it again." She shrugged off the shame.

"So, let's do it." Harry took her hand where she had put it on her thigh.

"What?' She looked up from his phone.

"Get to know each other, like this." He looked so excited.

"Ok, shoot, I guess." She tried to look away, what would he ask? About her marriage? Her divorce? Her unfortunate single motherdom?

None of those, better, "When did you know you wanted to paint?"

"Um.....I don't think I ever really thought about it, I just was a painter, I guess." She sat back in her chair. "My mum had the nanny take me to all sorts of enrichment opportunities."

"That sounds nice." He smiled at her but he must have seen it wasn't. "I actually don't know much about your parents. Like, I don't think I've ever even heard much about them." He left that there and when she didn't respond he kept talking, "Unless you don't want to talk about it. We don't have to."

"Um, no, I guess, I liked classes and sport, well some of them, I was pretty good at tennis. And it's where I found art. Those were always my favorite. My mum insisted I learn piano. I like violin, but she wasn't really interested in my interests, ya know." He squeezed her hand. "Have you ever read 'Pride and prejudice?'"

He glanced at her quickly before putting his eyes back on the road. "Yeah, um when I was in year 8 maybe?" He furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Do you remember that part where Darcy talks about what it takes to be considered an accomplished young lady to him, and it's like a very long list?" Harry nodded so she continued and tried to get to the point. "I think my mother was trying to give me a regency era pedigree or something, and it meant she didn't have to deal with me. She largely ignored me unless I was window dressing. I was, well, am, a huge disappointment. It looked very bad when I got pregnant young and out of wedlock. You'd have thought I was Lydia Bennett." She tried to joke, but her parents tolerance of her rather than love smarted no matter how old she got.

Harry didn't comment, or try to fix it, her. He just raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. And waited.

"But, art was on her list of things I should know, though she was not happy when I decided it was what I was gonna do. I was supposed to marry well, and a degree would help that. An art degree even, and she could explain my eccentricities away with it. But, it's all I ever wanted to do." She squeezed his hand back. "While I'm painting not much else matters, I'm the most me then, maybe?" She looked at him and he nodded while making a lane change.

"Yeah, think that's true, you look most comfortable with a brush in your hand." He was quiet a minute, the air stilled in the car though the blowers were still on. "You know it was you, right?"

He looked at her scrunched brow as long as he could while driving. "What was me?" She finally asked.

"That made me learn that about myself, that I was an artist." He didn't glance at her, but kept his eyes carefully on the road. Was he embarrassed? He had no need to be.

"I think you had it in you and would have found it." She leaned over the console and kissed his dimple, just like she had always wanted to, "but I'm really proud if I was some small part of that process for you!"

He looked at where she had just cleared the space between them a little, and glanced hastily back to the road, and kissed her quickly on the mouth. "When I first watched you, which I did for a long time before I got the courage to ask for my own brush, I was so amazed that you got to be in charge of all of it. Like, it's entirely yours, the things you draw, and what you don't define too, and the names of the colors. It opened up this yearning inside me." Jo stayed close to him while he talked, the console digging into her ribs, she felt like one of her beat ladies,trying to get somewhere undefined. Maybe the one whose foot steps turned back to gold after Harry left yesterday. "I would come home from Thursdays so excited I couldn't sleep, which is how I feel when I leave you now, not sure if it was about you or the art now." He pinched his lip and caught his eyes when they tried to see her, averted them to the road.

"It was the art then. Something changed with us a couple years ago." Jo leaned back in her chair and thought about that green t shirt. It wouldn't fit him now, it was really tight then, and he'd broadened further. Maybe it would fit her. "Don't you think?"

"Something changed with us, definitely, it changed my whole world." And he looked at her and she wanted him to keep looking at her like she was the missing piece in his big puzzle forever. He needed to drive and when he looked up he muttered "shit" and looked over his shoulder to begin lane changes.

Jo realized they were in Liverpool, by the waterfront and she hoped and also just knew that he had chosen to bring her to her favorites place in the world, without knowing it. "Are we going to the Tate Modern?" She could hear the hummingbirds in her voice.

"Yeah, they have an exhibit on Roy Lichtenstein I wanted to see and it felt, well, I'm not sure...." he parked the car and looked at her, "it felt very us. you maybe?"

Jo didn't even  look around. There was nobody here that knew them, she leaned over the console and caught his jaw with her hand and turned him to her and kissed him like she was allowed to. Once she drank from his lips all his wonders, she confessed, "This is my favorite place in the world, maybe." and Harry had gotten it in one.

[my-one-love-is-music]

Promises of Tomorrow’s Yesterday ch. 13

Things have finally managed to settle down a bit here at Uni. Scotland is amazing and I'm loving it so much. These next five months are going to be fantastic. I'm also not used to the amount of free time that I have which is part of the reason this chapter is getting posted a wee bit earlier.

Anyway, I hope that you're ready for more of these lovable dorks.

Also on AO3!

               Jason reluctantly let his arms fall away as Tim moved out of his embrace. He rubbed at the tear tracks on his cheeks and sniffled a few times before clearing his throat.

               “We should probably get changed. Bane’ll be expecting us,” he said, getting up from the bench and turning to look for his locker.

               “Right…” Jason turned and pulled his own locker open slowly, wanting to put off the meeting as long as possible. He pulled out his change of clothes and ID card and headed towards one of the changing stalls. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it heavily, letting his eyes fall shut. He suddenly felt the weight of the years that he’s already lived. The things that he experienced in his other life and the pessimism that had developed rearing its ugly head after being quiet for so long.

               He breathed in and out carefully and began to go about getting undressed. The urge to punch something was back with a vengeance, but he’d already punched someone that day and he didn’t need to get into any more trouble. Maybe if he still actually had a job after this, he could spend a little more time at the heavy bag and really work out his anger. And when that was done…he just wanted to hold Tim and protect him from all of the idiots and horrible people that caused problems. Jason had the urge to keep him locked away, hidden from everyone wanting to do him harm. But that would only lead to more problems.

               Shaking his head, he pulled the door open roughly and walked back towards the rows of lockers, freezing when he looked up and saw Tim sitting on the bench, hands fisted in his lap and bag at his feet. Jason forced himself to relax and take a few careful breaths before letting himself walk closer. He packed up his things slowly, trying his best to exude a sense of calm that everything was okay and that Tim would be okay.

               “Ready?” he asked, slipping his backpack on.

               Tim looked up at him, the worry clear in his eyes and nodded. He stood and slipped his arms through the straps of his own backpack. Jason eyed him up and down before turning on his heel. He only managed to make it one step before a hand grabbed ahold of his and stopped him in his tracks. He turned and looked down at Tim who was watching him nervously. He smiled and nodded, giving Tim’s hand a gentle squeeze before leading him out of the locker room and across the floor towards the offices.

               The door to Bane’s office had been left open and Jason could see him nearly slumped over his desk, head in his hands. He cleared his throat and stepped inside. Bane looked up and Jason could see just how tired he looked and how old he was.

               “Have a seat, Jason.” Bane’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Tim standing behind him. “Uh…Tim you can have a seat, too. Since this does have to do with you as well.”

               Jason let Tim’s hand go as the two of them took the chairs in front of his desk.

               “I looked over the security tapes to get a better judge of the situation. Unfortunately because of the size of the gym and their location, there’s no audio, but I did see that he approached you two and that Tim had visibly reacted to his presence. Regardless of that fact and as much as I hate to do this, I’m going to have to reprimand you in some way, Jason.”

               Jason bowed his head. “I understand.”

               “I’m going to suspend you for the next week. That includes both from work and from the premises. The desk attendants will know that you aren’t allowed inside and the card scanner won’t recognize your card. Please refrain from lashing out again. If you do, I’ll be forced to fire you.”

               Jason felt relieved that his punishment was so light. He knew that the kid who’d come after Tim probably wouldn’t be happy about it and neither would his parents, but he wasn’t fired. Only a week away from this place. “Is that all?”

               Bane looked at him, eyes roving over his face. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Get out of here. Don’t let me see you for a week.”

               Jason grabbed his backpack and pushed himself from the chair. He was aware of Tim watching him as he walked out the door and across the floor of the gym to the exit. He felt bad that he was leaving Tim to conduct their classes on his own, but at least he wasn’t fired. He just needed to keep telling himself that and maybe then the bitter taste of having to leave Tim alone would diminish.

               “Jason!”

               He whipped around as Tim burst through the door and hurried towards him.

               “Tim? What is it? What’s wrong?”

               “It’s just…I’m…I’m sorry…about your job. That you’re suspended, I mean.”

               Jason shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. At least I’m not fired. That’s at least some consolation.”

               “Look…do you want to…I mean…” Tim huffed a breath, obviously frustrated that he wasn’t able to get his words out. “Do you want to come over? To my house? Now?” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You know what? Never mind. I’m just going to go and jump off a bridge.”

               Jason laughed. “Yes.”

               “Is that a yes to what I asked? Or a yes to jumping off the bridge? Or are you wanting to jump off a bridge with me?”

               He reached out and pulled Tim’s hands from his face. “It is a yes to doing anything with you. Whether that includes jumping off bridges or walking over bridges or swinging from bridges. But we can limit the death-defying stunts for the day and watch a movie or something instead.”

               Tim smiled shyly and if that didn’t just do Jason in right then and there. Jason cleared his throat and shifted nervously.

               “Okay. Where to?”

               “Right. This way,” Tim said, turning and taking hold of one of Jason’s hands. He led him down the sidewalk in the opposite direction that Jason would go in to catch the bus. Not that that was surprising considering the wealthier part of town was this way. He took a minute to look over Tim as he was pulled along. He seemed to be in a better mood, much to Jason’s relief. He didn’t want him brooding over his classmate’s words from earlier and wished that he could do something about how he was treated at school.

               Letting a smile slip onto his face, he quickened his pace just slightly so that he caught up to Tim’s side and was walking next to him rather than behind him. He felt Tim’s eyes on him, but refused to look at him, content with letting their hands hang loosely intertwined between them.

               If Jason hadn’t had experience in Wayne Manor in his past life then he would’ve been wholly unprepared for what greeted him at Drake Manor. It wasn’t as large as Bruce’s, but it was still a pretty impressive size. The front door was pulled open as they started walking up the steps and Tim hastily let go of his hand, but Jason still caught the knowing smile that the butler wore.

               “Master Timothy and…?” he greeted.

               “Jason. Jason Todd.”

               “And Master Jason,” he repeated, allowing them to walk through the doorway.

               “Thank you, Percy,” Tim said, making a bee-line for the stairs. Jason waved politely at the butler and followed after Tim, looking around at the high ceilings and sparse decorations as they passed by the large sitting room and made their way up the stairs. The Manor wasn’t as dark or gritty as Bruce’s had been, but it wasn’t the most welcoming environment for someone to be in on their own. Tim walked through the hallways quickly and pushed through a doorway far ahead of where Jason was taking his time to move down the carpet.

               After a few seconds he stuck his head back through the doorway and furrowed his brow at Jason. “What’s taking you so long?”

               Jason shrugged as he approached. “Just getting a look around. I’ve never been to your house.”

               Tim opened his mouth to object and Jason knew that he was going to object. It was true that they’d lived together underneath the nightclub that Tim had run, but he’d never been to his house. The house.

               “Oh,” he said instead. Tim reached out and pulled Jason through the doorway, shutting it behind them.

               “It’s cleaner than I thought it would be,” he remarked.

               “Hey!” Tim objected, crossing his arms and pouting in the most adorable way. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very neat person.”

               Jason grinned. “Somehow, I find that a little hard to believe,” he said, chuckling. He pulled his backpack off and set it down next to the bed before taking a seat on the floor. “Now, what is it you wanted to do?”

               Tim shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, honestly. Want to watch a movie?”

               “Sure. What’ve you got?”

               He waved at a bookshelf that was positioned next to his bed and Jason immediately spotted the shelves that were filled with DVD cases. He turned around and leaned closer to get a better look at the various titles that were filed alphabetically.

               “You have the entire Star Wars collection, Lord of the Rings collection, and Harry Potter?” Jason asked, incredulously.

               “Yeah well…you’re going to have to pick one in there. We don’t have enough time to watch all of those right now. Or even today.”

               Jason laughed and pulled down the third HP film. “I guess we can go with this one then.”

               Tim took the case from his hand and moved over to the DVD player set up below a huge flatscreen, because of course he would have one of those, and loaded the disk. “Why the third one?” he asked, picking up two remotes and dimming the lights before sitting down on the floor like Jason and making himself comfortable.

               “Remus Lupin.”

               Tim nodded as he fiddled with the various remotes. “That makes sense. He is one of the most well-written characters of the books.”

               “Have you even read the books?”

               “Wouldn’t have made the comment if I hadn’t.”

               “I don’t know about that…”

               Tim scowled at him. “Hey, just because I don’t always have my nose in a paperback like someone, doesn’t mean I don’t read.”

               “Could’ve fooled me.”

               “Hey-“                “Shh, the movie’s starting.”

               Jason bit his lip to stop himself from outright grinning. What he could see of Tim’s expression out of the corner of his eye was adorably affronted. He knew that Tim wasn’t used to being teased or cut off so easily, but this was something that he could enjoy. It was taking his mind of what had happened earlier in any case.

               “Whatever,” he grumbled and settled back against the bed as the camera panned down Privet Drive.

               Tim had his knees pulled against his chest and was biting his thumbnail as Harry and Hermione were chased through the Forbidden Forest. Jason knew that he should’ve been paying more attention since he was the one who’d picked out the movie, but he couldn’t get over how engrossed Tim had become in the film, especially since it was one that the both of them had seen before. They knew the outcome, but there was just something about watching it again that brought back the excitement and rush of emotions.

               A knock on the door pulled them both from their deep focus, Tim a little more abruptly than Jason. Tim reached for the remote and paused the film.

               “Come in,” he called.

               The door opened to reveal Percy standing there. “If the young Masters are hungry, dinner has been prepared and is waiting in the dining room.”

               “Thank you, Percy,” Tim said.

               The butler bowed slightly and left the door ajar as he walked back down the hallway.

               “Let’s go then,” Tim said, pushing himself to his feet.

               “To dinner? You want me to stay for dinner?” Jason asked.

               “I’m not exactly going to kick you out of my house when there’s a perfectly good meal waiting and no one else to eat it. I’m sure my parents aren’t home yet and we still have to finish the movie. Don’t you want to find out what happens to Sirius?” he asked with a wry grin.

               Jason rolled his eyes and stood. “Ha ha. We both know what happens at the end of the film.”

               “So no objections then,” he said walking through his bedroom door and leaving Jason standing in the middle of the room.

               Slowly, and almost in a daze, Jason followed after Tim. He was slightly worried that he wouldn’t be able to navigate the hallways to the dining room without Tim, but found him waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Tim rolled his eyes at him and started down the staircase.

               The dining room was about as spacious and wide as Jason would’ve expected based on the rest of the house. There were two place settings arranged on the table across from each other and several dishes between them piled with food. Jason sat down slowly, looking over everything that was in front of him. He didn’t know how they were expected to eat all of this. Jason did have a pretty decent appetite, but even this was pushing it and Tim looked like he wouldn’t even last past one plate.

               “If you’re worried about the amount of food, Percy usually saves the leftovers and I’ll take them for lunch during the week or have them for dinner if no one cooks. There’s very little food waste, but if you want, we could box some of it up and you could take it home to your mom,” Tim explained quietly.

               The explanation helped Jason relaxed, not even having noticed the amount of stress that was building just from the prospect of being faced with so much. “Yeah, she’d really like that actually. It’d be a great surprise for when she got home from work since she has a later shift tonight.”

               “Shouldn’t you have told her that you were coming over?” Tim asked, placing a slice of chicken on his plate before reaching for the carrots.

               “Nah, she probably wouldn’t have seen a text in any case and she trusts me to know what I’m doing. If anything, she would’ve just assumed that I went to the library or was doing something with Roy and Kori at the last minute.”

               “Oh.”

               “Do…do you have any friends? At school or out of school?” Jason asked.

               “Not really. I was never very good at making friends and there’s an even less chance of me connecting with people now that I’ve pretty much pissed off the entire school with how different I am.”

               Jason shrugged. “You never know. Maybe once the initial shock dies down, there will be a lot of people or are inspired by what you did and want to get to know you. You could start an LGBTQ society and a support network for other people who might need it.”

               Tim’s hand froze over the bowl of dinner rolls. “That’s…actually a pretty decent idea.”

               “Yeah?” Jason asked, grin pulling at the sides of his mouth.

               “Yeah. I could help other people who might not be ready to face the world like I have. It could get a little tricky trying to keep out people who don’t mean well, though.”

               “You could always hold meetings off of school grounds and to know what the location is or whatever, they have to email you. From there do a little bit of background checking on their social media to see what sorts of things they post and if they speak out against any groups or the community. If you want, you could even go so far as to screen each person individually to make sure they don’t have any ill intentions.”

               “That’s really brilliant. How’d you think of that?”

               Jason shrugged as he chewed a bite of his food. “I just thought of it. Makes sense at least.”

               “Yeah. Yeah it does. Does your school have an LGBTQ group?”

               “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t really have an interest in joining. I don’t think it would really benefit me in any way at least.”

               “And a book club would?” Tim asked, grinning.

               “Hey,” Jason said, pointing his fork at Tim. “Reading is a perfectly suitable pastime.”

               “I’m sure, I’m sure,” he said, holding up his hands defensively.

               “Are you going to the football game on Saturday?” Jason asked, reaching for another roll.

               Tim’s brow furrowed. “Football game?”

               “Yeah. Our schools are playing each other. It’s homecoming for us, so I guess it’s a big deal. Not that I particularly care about the whole dance and all the activities. I didn’t know if you were going though.”

               “I didn’t even know about it, honestly,” Tim answered, clearly distracted. “Are you going?”

               “I’m not sure. I’ll probably end up being dragged along by Kori so there’s a pretty good chance I’ll be there,” Jason answered before turning to focus in on his food.

               Tim hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything else.  

               The rest of their dinner passed quietly. Jason was a little worried if he’d said something wrong because of how quiet Tim was being. His unusual manner carried through the rest of the movie as well, making the situation slightly awkward, but not wholly uncomfortable. Jason left just as it was starting to get dark with several containers of food and a promise to text Tim later since he wouldn’t see him at the gym for the next week.

               The walk back home was pleasant, even if it did leave him with a sense of discomfort over how he and Tim had parted. He let the sounds of the city become muted around him as he focused on his own thoughts, for once taking the time to look around himself and absorb just what he walked past each day even while his mind was buzzing with thoughts of Tim.

               Jason pushed through his apartment door and was met with darkness. He flipped the light on and noticed that his mom’s coat was still gone which meant he hadn’t missed her at least. He left his shoes near the door and carried the bag of food into the kitchen, slipping it into the fridge and scrawling out a note to leave on the counter before dragging himself back to his bedroom. He left his backpack on his desk chair and let himself fall face first onto his comforter, letting out a groan at how much better it felt. Not bothering to push himself underneath the covers, he pulled himself up his bed to let his head rest on his pillow and went to sleep.