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cheesybadgers · 2 years

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Narcos Fic: Trigonometry (Part 1: Sine)

Part 2, Part 3 - Masterlist - Read on AO3

All In Universe Masterlist

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Steve Murphy x Javier Peña

(Parts 1 and 2 focus on Carrillo/Murphy, but part 3 will be Carrillo/Murphy/Peña)

Words: 3,708

Summary: Set in the aftermath of All In, the trio have largely been avoiding each other. However, when Peña doesn’t show up for work and no one knows where he is, Murphy and Carrillo are forced to put their differences to one side, but soon discover they have more in common than they’re prepared to admit.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Canon-typical violence, knife play, weapons kink, power dynamics, lashings of sexual tension, descriptions of a past threesome and masturbation, a hint of praise kink, jealousy, mild angst, swearing, smoking, drinking.

Notes: So, a version of this fic has been sat in my WIP folder pretty much since I finished All In over a year ago, but it got put on the backburner when OHDH took over my life lol (I haven’t forgotten about that fic btw! I’m hoping to update sooner rather than later...it’s just a lot of work). But then I recently had pangs to re-visit this and, erm, one thing led to another 😂 It’s three parts and the second part is almost finished, so that should be posted soon!

I also feel like I should say now I’m a sucker for Steve in his hot mess era, and I’m also a sucker for his and Carrillo’s jealous frenemies dynamic as they fight over Javi, so those vibes are very much present here 😉

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Part 1: Sine

It wasn’t unlike Javi to go off-grid for hours at a time, preferring to ignore his pager if he had something – or someone - better to be doing. And in his defence, it was barely 10am; still early by his standards, so Steve poured himself another coffee and resumed scanning through the files piled on his desk.

Even as lunchtime approached, he was only mildly curious to know Javi’s whereabouts. Maybe Messina had sent him off to scope out a new CI. He was always so cloak-and-dagger; it wouldn’t have been out of character for him to sneak off without saying a word.

It was a thought that caused Steve’s stomach to swoop given what Javi tended to get up to with his informants, even though he didn’t have much right to feel that way. Sure, they had their new arrangement, but it wasn’t as though it was exclusive. It wasn’t as though it had happened again since that night in Carrillo’s office. And in the bathroom immediately afterwards, obviously.

In fact, the three of them had been avoiding each other as much as possible. Conversations were kept brief and strictly work-related, but Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on how to describe the cloud of tension that still enveloped them. Awkward, yes, but not quite regretful. It was more like an unspoken question that none of them was prepared to ask out loud. But occasionally, a look would pass between them when no one else was around. A look which, if they were honest, probably gave them the answer they needed, but no sooner had it appeared than it was gone again.

And then there were the flashbacks. Steve may have strutted away in the aftermath like the cat that got the cream, but a stiff drink or several was required when he made it back to his apartment and into the shower. And there was no escape even once under the white noise of the faucet.

He closed his eyes to rinse the shampoo from his hair, his fingers gliding through each soapy strand until they weren’t his fingers anymore. They were Carrillo’s gripping and tugging as he fucked Steve’s mouth with abandon. A groan echoed off the tiles as he tried to ignore the demanding twitch of his cock. But it only reminded him of how he reacted to the delicious warmth of Javi’s tongue swiping up and down his length, catching beads of precum on its journey.

Even once he gave in and took himself in hand, he was back in Carrillo's office getting off on watching them together. Or watching Javi’s face twist in pleasure through the bathroom mirror whilst vigorously ploughing into him. The rhythmic slapping of skin on skin, the strangled moans and the overpowering scent of sweat and semen filling his senses. The intoxicating thrill of Javi being orbited by him and Carrillo as they pushed and pulled, snarled and grunted to vie for his attention. Neither quite prepared to relinquish the perceived control they had over the situation, even if it was more of a fallacy than they cared to admit. It was no wonder he came for the third time that night, despite there barely being anything left for his body to release.

As the clock on the wall above his desk approached 2pm, Steve noted he hadn’t seen Carrillo anywhere all day either. There was that swooping sensation again, only this time, it dug deeper into his gut, twisting keenly like a knife as various scenarios swam through his mind.

He tried to reason with himself that even if any of them were the truth, it was nothing the two of them hadn’t already been doing for months (or years?) before he was involved. And they were perfectly entitled to do that without inviting him or seeking his permission. It wasn't like he hadn’t indulged with Javi in the absence of Carrillo, so there was no getting around the fact he was being a giant fucking hypocrite.

Still, his curiosity had the habit of getting the better of him, which was why he was striding down the corridor towards Carrillo’s office before he could stop himself.

Fuck knows what he was expecting to find in the middle of the day when anyone could have walked in on them if his suspicions had been right. And yet the reality still caught him off guard as he threw open the door.

“Don’t you ever knock, Murphy?” Carrillo looked up with a face like thunder from the vast array of reports, maps and files scattered across his desk.

Steve glossed over Carrillo as if he was just a minor footnote and scanned around the room, darting to the space behind the door and underneath the desk.

“Looking for something? Or someone?” The disdain dripped off Carrillo's words as he pushed his chair back to stand up, leaning forwards across the desk, his robust arms bearing the brunt of his weight.

Steve scoffed as he moved closer, placing his own arms on the other side of the desk and mimicking Carrillo’s stance in return. Because he was just feeling that fucking petty, apparently.

“If you must know, Javi didn’t show up for work today. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” His voice rumbled low and deep as he showed no respect for Carrillo’s space, the sharp scent of tobacco circling the two of them now that they were in close proximity.

“Why would I? I’m not his keeper. And you’re the one who lives in the same building as him. Shouldn’t you know where your own partner is?”

“Surely you of all people know Javi’s not the type to be kept by anyone. But he should’ve checked in by now.”

“Well, I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen much of him since…” Since we were all in this very room together with the blinds drawn and the door locked was what Carrillo couldn’t bring himself to say. It was one thing to have let it happen here in the first place; it was quite another to talk about it in the cold light of day.

He glanced at the chair Steve had pushed to one side when he’d begun this hostile act of provocation. The chair that Steve had sat in whilst being serviced by Javi and whilst servicing him.

His eyes flickered over Steve's features for a second before clearing his throat and drawing a line under that dangerous train of thought. “Have you tried Messina?”

“Not yet. I wanted to ask around first before raising the alarm. If - if something has happened, sending an overblown rescue mission courtesy of Uncle Sam might scare someone into doing something stupid.”

Steve could hardly believe what was coming out of his mouth. To talk in such extreme terms when it could all be for nothing felt like a betrayal. But these were volatile times in Colombia. And although American federal agents enjoyed certain privileges not available to local law enforcement, anything was possible.

Carrillo was quiet for a moment, his jaw rigid until he nodded, mildly irritated to find Steve's reasoning sound. “Makes sense. I’ll speak to some of my men, see if they’ve heard anything on the ground. Come find me if he hasn’t shown up by 5.”

Part of Steve wanted to argue that they should be out there looking for him now, not sat twiddling their thumbs for a few hours on the off-chance Javi might saunter through the door. But the more objective part of him knew Carrillo was right. No matter his personal feelings towards the man – and there was a giant question mark over what those actually were – he knew his tactical judgement was solid.

So instead, he nodded, their gaze heavy on each other in an unspoken truce that they would have to trust each other on this one.

------------------------------------------------------

After a torturous afternoon in which Steve could barely concentrate on anything, 5pm came and went with no sign of Javi. Messina had been asking questions, and he managed to fob her off with a vague cover story involving an informant, for now at least.

He steeled himself for another encounter with Carrillo, this time knocking and figuring he would at least try to be the bigger person given the circumstances.

Upon opening the door, he was unnerved to find Carrillo sitting at his desk with an ashtray full of cigarettes in front of him. There was a glass of whiskey in one hand whilst the fingers on his other pinched and massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Still no sign of him. I asked around the other departments – discreetly - and no one’s heard anything either,” Steve reported as he closed the door behind him.

“Neither have my men. Nothing from our usual contacts, nothing from the brothels or his favourite bars.”

“So, now what?”

Carrillo downed the remnants of his drink and picked up a half-finished cigarette from the ashtray before he spoke again. “Now, we do things my way.”

“Your way, huh?”

“Yes. Think you can handle it?”

If Steve didn’t know any better, he would say Carrillo was eyeing him with the same look he’d shot at him that night. There was no doubting it was a challenge.

Steve laughed and shook his head at the same time. He leaned down to Carrillo, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. “You already know I can, and one day, you’re gonna have to just accept it.”

Before he even thought about what he was doing, he took the cigarette from Carrillo’s fingers, making a show of clamping his lips around the tip in the exact spot where Carrillo’s own had just been. His exhale was slow and deliberate, causing wisps of smoke to ghost across Carrillo’s face.

Carrillo gave no response, but his stoicism was betrayed by the brief bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed thickly.

The faintest trace of a smirk danced over Steve’s face at his brazen antics having the desired effect. He reached for the ashtray to stub out the cigarette, a familiar darkness flashing across the steel blue of his pupils. “Where do we start?”

------------------------------------------------------

They waited until the sun had set over Medellín, allowing them to move unseen amongst the shadows of the deserted side streets. Carrillo knew the comunas like the back of his hand, but even he couldn’t ignore the vulnerability of the leader of Search Bloc venturing out with his only backup being a DEA agent who stuck out like a sore thumb. A DEA agent who looked to him for answers he wasn’t confident they would get tonight, although he couldn’t bring himself to admit that to Murphy.

The leads they had were tenuous at best. His men weren’t pushovers, so if no one had confessed anything already, he doubted they would now. But he had to do something. Anything to distract himself from thinking the worst.

It was why he didn’t feel remorse when he yanked back the head of a low-level sicario they’d picked up downtown, pressing the muzzle of his gun into the dimple of the man’s chin.

Nor did he regret pulling the knife out of his back pocket and flicking it open millimetres from the second sicario’s face before scoring the blade across his jugular and issuing quiet threats to his ear.

Neither man gave them anything useful, but it had taken the edge off, even if just for a while, and it was worth a shot.

So far, Steve had remained passive but curious, watching Carrillo closer than ever. In the past, he hadn’t stuck around long enough to witness Carrillo in full flow, but this time he couldn’t drag his eyes away. It was disturbing yet mesmerising, horrifying yet alluring in a fucked-up way that he didn’t fully understand and was quite sure he didn’t want to, either.

By the fifth person they accosted, Steve took the lead, seizing him by the throat and squeezing with one hand. He jabbed the tip of his gun into the sicario’s forehead with such force it branded a perfect circle on his skin.

“Yo soy tu patrón. ¿Sí?” Steve asked again and again. He continued until his victim was a nodding, whimpering wreck who soon scarpered once he gathered himself up off the floor where Steve had thrown him.

Now it was Carrillo’s turn to be enthralled. His pupils dilated from watching Steve’s wild gaze pop against the half-light of the alleyway as his grip tightened around the man’s throat and his gun. He’d never seen Steve handle a gun like this, and Carrillo realised it wasn’t dissimilar to how he wielded his knife.

He was even mildly impressed Steve had the balls to threaten someone in Spanish, rather than get him to do the dirty work. He had heard stories from Javier and caught glimpses of it now and then, but he had never witnessed Steve so ruthless.

He understood, though. They both had a shared interest in this. They both had more to lose than they wanted to admit. And they were no closer to finding him. A fact that Carrillo was rapidly losing patience with, and he knew the perfect person to take out his frustrations on.

“What the fuck was that?” Carrillo finally spoke, his tone scathing.

“Oh, I get it. It’s okay when you do it, but not me?”

“I meant the choking. How do you expect him to talk if you cut off his air supply?”

“Oh, come on, he knew jack shit anyway. This was a fuckin’ waste of time! I thought you said you had a plan?”

“I thought you gringos always came to the rescue. Isn’t that why you’re here? So we can all bow down to what hot shit you are?” Carrillo had had enough of this and reached for his lighter and a fresh cigarette from his pocket.

However, before he could ignite it, he felt a heavy weight on his chest as he was thrown back against the wall behind him.

During moments like this, Steve’s height advantage came into its own. He towered over Carrillo, effectively pinning him in place with one hand fisted in his shirt and the other braced on the brick beside his head.

A charged silence hung between them, only their laboured breathing reverberating off the wall as they stared each other down, foreheads almost touching. Their chests rose and fell in unison, each exhale reducing the gap between them whilst increasing their shared body heat.

Carrillo carried more muscle, but Steve was surprisingly strong and made light work of caging Carrillo in like this. Compressing whatever tension they had let loose into such a small space, it was liable to explode at any minute.

“In case you needed reminding, one of those gringos is Javi. And I’ve already lost one partner, I ain’t losin’ another.” Steve’s voice was barely more than a hiss out of the side of his mouth as he pressed his weight harder against Carrillo to emphasise his point.

Despite being outdoors, the atmosphere was oppressive, and Carrillo needed space to get some air. He used the extra momentum from Steve to propel himself forwards, one hand clutching the front of Steve’s shirt, the other reaching into his own back pocket.

Before Steve knew what was happening, they had switched places, his head roughly making contact with the wall. He grunted as though the wind had been knocked out of him, barely having time to adjust when he caught a glint of light in his peripheral vision.

Carrillo’s right elbow was now pinned just below Steve’s left shoulder, and he held his knife a few millimetres away from Steve’s throat.

“You think losing one partner is bad? Try losing a dozen. And they didn’t have the protection you have despite this being their country. So, I’d tread very carefully if I were you, Murphy.” Carrillo spat his words against the shell of Steve’s ear, his elbow crushing against its target until he heard a wince.

It hit a raw nerve for both of them and went part way to explaining why they had gone off the deep end over Javi. Steve more so than Carrillo, because Carrillo had been here too many times before.

“And in case you needed reminding, I’ve known Peña a lot longer than you have, so spare me the sermon,” Carrillo continued after Steve had let him have that one unchallenged.

He was on the cusp of saying he knew Javier better too but caught himself just in time. Because he didn’t even know if that was true anymore, and that was a thought he wasn’t prepared to examine just yet.

For a long moment, they remained locked in a stand-off, neither wanting to be the first to break eye contact or back down. Carrillo’s hands were as steady as a rock whilst Steve struggled to keep the tremors out of his breaths. His throat was dry, and his palms were sweaty, one clenched in a fist by his side and the other still inexplicably grasping at Carrillo’s shirt.

Carrillo’s charcoal irises stormed in their dimly lit surroundings, and Steve had seen that look before: when Carrillo discovered Steve and Javi outside the bathroom that night.

Despite how dicey his current position was, Steve couldn’t stop the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And yet you couldn’t keep him satisfied.”

No sooner had Steve spoken than he felt a sharp, ice-cold pressure at the base of his throat. It wasn’t remotely enough to break the skin, but the fact one false move from either of them could swiftly change that was almost enough to trigger Steve’s fight-or-flight response.

He concentrated on keeping stock still, willing his heart rate to even out and trying to aggressively ignore whatever the hell was going on in his jeans.

“If you’re not careful, that big mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble again, Murphy.” Carrillo’s low rasp dripped like venom fused with honey as he lightly dragged the blade across Steve’s skin.

Steve had hit another sore point, it seemed. Carrillo should have seen it coming that night once Peña went after Murphy. He never did ask about the logistics of what went on between them, but having now seen Murphy in a new light, he could hazard a guess.

He wasn’t naïve enough to think Peña had never been with other men; however, it still rankled regardless, even when it shouldn’t. But he meant what he said in the corridor as well. He wanted to see Peña’s face when he was fucking or being fucked by someone else. He wanted to know exactly what it was Murphy could give Peña that he couldn’t. And if he was honest, part of him wanted to put Murphy in his place once and for all. But their current situation was a start, at least.

Just one swipe from left to right across his neck was all it took to elicit a half-gasp, half-groan from Steve. His body visibly trembled, and his fist scooped up more of Carrillo’s shirt to tether himself. As soon as the sound escaped his lips, he regretted it, knowing Carrillo now had him exactly where he wanted him. And he couldn’t be having that.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” A retort that would have hit closer to its mark if Steve wasn’t practically panting, confirming in an instant what Carrillo had suspected all evening about the blue-eyed all-American boy’s darkest desires.

The fine edge of the knife grazed feather-light back and forth and up and down with precision, Carrillo expertly applying the perfect amount of force so as not to go too far.

He brought the blade up to Steve’s cheek and traced the flat surface of it delicately along his bottom lip. “Whichever shuts you up quickest.”

Carrillo held the knife still in place and pressed it ever so slightly until Steve took the hint and parted his mouth.

Steve’s lips subtly caressed the weapon as though he was hypnotised, following Carrillo’s instructions without blinking or hesitating.

“Good boy.” The words of affirmation had barely left Carrillo’s throat when he felt their immediate effect throbbing against him where their bodies connected. Of course. Given how much Steve had desperately craved Carrillo’s approval ever since he arrived in Colombia, it was hardly a surprise, and Carrillo filed that one away for the time being.

With every challenge each man laid down, the other immediately picked up the gauntlet and escalated it further. A twisted game of one-upmanship that they would never admit they were playing with each other, but one they couldn’t resist.

Carrillo caught a flash of tongue swiping along the blade and had to swallow a groan. He supposed he deserved that after his last manoeuvre. His own lips were now only a hair’s breadth from the knife, the scent of faded aftershave and cigarettes engulfing their senses as they stood on the precipice of something unfathomable, addictive and dangerous.

But then, without warning, Carrillo abruptly withdrew as though he’d been scalded, snapping the blade of his knife shut and backing away from Steve. A moment of sobering clarity that they had gone too far and had more pressing matters to deal with.

“We’re done here. We’ll head back to Bogotá and try his apartment just in case there’s anything we’re missing.” Carrillo’s orders were delivered as though he was leading a run-of-the-mill field op, and whatever the two of them had been a party to was over as quickly as it started.

The mention of Javi’s apartment also flicked a switch in Steve’s brain, his gut lurching at the memory of why they were here in the first place.

He cleared his throat and tried to regain some composure, although his limbs felt boneless, and his pulse raced in his ears. “Er right, yeah. Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

They didn’t have time for this, whatever the fuck this even was. A question they were both more than happy to leave to one side as they exited the alley and made their way back to Carlos Holguín in awkward silence.

48 notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 9 months

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lost n found

summary - you are lost in italy the night before your wedding

pairing: fiancé!harry x reader

word count: ~2k

You were definitely lost.

Drunk and lost.

To: harry - im so sor:(y

From: harry - Baby, you’re fine❤️ Drop me your location and I’ll come find you. Please don’t move xx

To: harry - okaY.i love you xox

So currently you were sat on a stone wall, somewhere on a random side street in a small Italian village, waiting for your boyfriend to come and pick you up.

Harry had gone out with a few of his closest guy friends for drinks, for one last night as an unmarried man.

You and your girls had gone out for drinks too and you had mentioned to the boys that you would catch them up later.

At some point during the evening, though, you and the girls had all gone to the beach and you had gone to the toilet. It had been a trek to find one, only when you tried to find your way back you took so many drunken wrong turns that you couldn’t tell your legs from rights now.

Reading a map was useless, but sending Harry messages wasn’t.

You originally hadn’t wanted to send him any messages, not wanting to ruin his last night a “free” man but at some point you had become a little too lost to care.

Swinging your legs as you sat on the wall, you watched the birds fly overhead amongst the clear blue sky. You detailed all the cracks in the old buildings and counted twelve windows on one wall alone.

Your brain was fuzzy and your eyes kept on wanting to close from tiredness. You would be blaming a lot of your girl friends tomorrow for the continuous passing of shots your way.

Your phone rang in your hand.

“Yeah?” You answered, not even checking the caller ID.

“Baby? Love? Can y’hear me?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not where y’said you’d be.” Harry sounded stressed.

“N-no I am. I sent you my location a-and I haven’t moved.”

You stood up and could feel yourself starting to panic. If Harry didn’t know where you were then there was no way of you knowing. Harry wasn’t ever a big enough drinker to get really drunk, unlike you.

You only ever got drunk when you felt you were in a safe environment, like tonight had been surrounded by all your closest girl friends. Or always with Harry.

Now that you didn’t have anyone and you were still drunk, you were getting anxiety of being alone and intoxicated.

Cue to shaky hands and tears.

“Are y’sure baby?”

“Y-yes. Fuck me. You’re not going to find me. Fuck. I don’t – shit – I.. I’m…”

“Hey, hey. Y/N, baby. Woah, slow down for me, okay? I am coming for you, okay? I just.. It was my mistake and I just need to relocate myself. You’re okay.”

Your phone was shaky in your hands and you started twisting your body around, as if expecting some random creepy guy to come around the corner and take advantage of you.

The twisting didn’t help your head, though, and was making you feel increasingly dizzy and sick.

“Y/N?” Harry asked urgently and you wondered whether you’d missed something he said.

“I-I’m scared.” You honestly said, backing yourself against a wall and trying to let the cool stone calm you down.

Your tears will no doubt have ruined your minimal makeup by now, not that that was a main priority of yours right now.

“Honey, you’re okay. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Harry sounded like he was running.

His voice sounded a little breathy and you could hear the fast movement of wind through the speakerphone.

“Y/N, love, turn on your data.” Harry said.

“I ran out.” You banged your head back against the wall, not even thinking about the pain that just caused.

You whimpered as you sank down onto the floor, knees tucked close to your chest and arm wrapped around your legs. Your phone was still to your ear, with Harry’s voice being the only sane thing in this moment.

“Okay, okay.” Harry muttered to himself rather than you. More running sounded from Harry’s end of the phone. “Baby, y’still there?”

“Mm.”

Your mind travelled to many worst case scenarios and due to how bad they were your panic only increased.

This was supposed to be your last nights as an unmarried couple and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d ruined that. He must’ve been having such a good night.

You’d seen a couple of photos on his private Instagram story and other people’s Instagram stories. Your fiancé looked divine. He just looked so perfect that it was difficult to believe that he had chosen you and you got to call him yours.

It did make you nearly cry that he was thinking of you, via Instagram, though.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Harry asked.

“Don’t know. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry or upset. Just want to make sure you’re okay, my love.”

“Okay.”

“So you have to be brave for me, okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

You got stuck for a moment, trying to think of possible ways you could calm yourself down and distract yourself. Luckily, Harry was already one step ahead.

“Hey, baby?” He grabbed your attention.

“Yeah.”

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but let the smile take over your face. You weren’t scared at all for tomorrow. You had no nervous jitters. All you felt was love in your heart for your husband to be.

“We are.”

“And you’re going to look so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress. I bet it looks so pretty.”

You sniffled, building back your strength and overcoming your anxiety. A lot of your strength came from the love you hold for Harry.

You heard a noise from your left and looked to see a cat rustling through some litter.

Your heart deflated when you realised it wasn’t Harry. You knew he was coming though. He was on his way and he would not stop running until he found you.

It was almost like a bad scene out of a romance movie.

The night before your wedding and something terrible goes wrong. It’s a sign!

“I think it’s just perfectly me.” You said, talking about your wedding dress.

“Sounds perfect to me then.” Harry paused for a moment. “Baby, did you walk under an archway, like, uh, a stone archway covered in pink flowers?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.” You ran a stressed hand over your forehead.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Everyone’s going to be so mad at me.” You began getting frustrated with yourself. “Fuck.” You breathed in a sob and exhaled with a bigger breath.

“Promise you no one’s mad, baby. Gem has messaged me a thousand times asking if you’re okay. I can’t even answer ‘cause this bloody maps apps is a fucking nuisance. I swear to–”

“Harry?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up from your knees to check your phone. He was still on the line. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Harry shouted your name, but not from down the phone.

You could see Harry walking over to you very quickly, clearly panting from having run street after street.

“H.” You dropped your phone and cried as you saw him faster approach you.

Definitely a moment worthy of a romcom.

Harry was probably living his Ryan Gosling dreams.

“Baby, hey. I’m here. You’re okay.” Harry sank down to the floor and scooped his arms around you, pulling you close and squeezing oh so tight.

He sank down to his bum and leaned against the wall, pulling your entirely onto his lap. Too close wasn’t an option right now.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you sat sideways on his lap. Your face was tucked under his chin and his head rested on top of yours. You cried as Harry held you tight.

You couldn’t see Harry’s facial expressions but he was breathing out sighs of relief, some tears in his own eyes from the adrenaline of trying to find you. He had been just as scared as you, but had to remain strong for you. Now he had you he could let it all out.

“You’re never going to the toilet alone again.” Harry laughed. You laughed back.

“Deal.”

“That was scary.” Harry kind of mumbled, but you heard him anyways. He kissed your head a few times and you melted at the feel.

“Harry.”

“Yeah, love?”

“My head is so dizzy.”

Harry used a hand to tilt your head up so he could see your face. He noticed your mascara ridden face first of all, but beneath that you were all beauty.

“Tequila is only our friend for two rounds, remember?” He laughed at you. He was able to tell from your eyes that you weren’t exceedingly drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“I did not remember.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours as he shook his head with a grin. “You’re such a handful, you.”

“M’sorry.” You pouted.

“Never said I didn’t love you as a handful.”

“Do you? Love me a handful?” You used a hand to stroke over his cheek that had gotten so scruffy with the stubble he was trying to grow.

“‘Course. Love you every way and anyway. Love you so much. Love you until my body literally decomposes my wedding ring off my finger, and then some more.”

“That was dark, even for a 2AM drunk thought.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry chuckled, noticing that smile on your face becoming more and more permanent.

“But I’ll love you for the same.” You promised.

Harry kissed you then, not wasting another moment of this evening away from you. Well, morning now. His lips were soft against yours and you smiled into the kiss, happy that he was here with you even if it was under really weird circumstances.

“Let’s go, trouble. We’ll go back to the hotel and I’ll kiss you all night.”

“Don’t you want to spend the rest of your night with the boys? You know, last night as a free man?” Even though you were suggesting this, all you actually wanted to do was kiss, kiss and kiss him.

“Free man?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows with disgust, “What are you talking about?”

“You know? People say the last night before they get married is their last chance to be free?”

“Why would I need to be free when I’ve got you? I’m choosing you, like I always have. Never needed to be free.”

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m shackling you to me for life.”

“Too right you are, baby. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Now, take me home, trouble.” You giggled.

“Oh. So I’m the trouble now?”