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it's always have and never hold, you began to feel like home

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It's two am when a text lights up Louis' phone. He was awake anyway, wallowing in a cloud of his own pathetic singleness and trying to build up the motivation to wank. But, alas, he is very lazy and apparently his sloth-ism has no limits. He reaches over and picks up his phone, glaring at the porn on his screen that has failed to do anything helpful.

The text is from Harry:

be ready in 5, I saw ur lights on, lets drown our sorrows in chocolate milk

Louis taps out a quick reply:

business casual or black tie?

Harry's response comes only a moment later:

the usual

Louis smiles to himself, rolling his eyes at his absolute loser of a best friend, before going to his closet and pulling out his tux. He gets dressed quickly, stumbling only over tying the tie, something he still hasn't mastered but he knows Harry will fix it for him and he won't even have to ask.

He clicks off his light and walks into the living area, where his roommate Zayn is still curled up on the couch with his boyfriend Liam. Sickening, the two of them. Movie nights and romantic dinners and nights Louis really wishes he was deaf. Assholes.

Oh god, Louis' so alone.

And there they are and Liam is snuffling softly into Zayn's neck and the TV screen has gone blue. Zayn looks up, blinking sleepily at Louis. He looks so fucking innocent. He can't fool Louis, he's found the whip and the fucking handcuffs. Gross, god.

“Going out.” Louis mouths, but Zayn has already dropped his head down on Liam's and pressed his lips to the bigger boy's short hair. Disgusting.

He grabs his wallet and heads out of his flat, face changing from a scowl to a grin when he sees Harry. Harry's leaning against his car puffing his breath into his fingers. He has his larger-than-average bowtie situated below his neck and black blazer over a crisp white button down. He's really an awful wingman, because whoever Louis tries to pick up usually ends up going home with Harry. It's the damn baby greens, Louis always says, and Harry pokes his hollowed cheek and says maybe Louis should try showing off his baby blues more, they're always trained on the guy's crotch.

Louis usually hits him.

“Top o' the morning!” Harry greets him, pushing himself off the chipped blue paint of his car and opening the door for Louis with a grand gesture.

“Spent the day with Niall, did you?” Louis asks sliding into the warm leather. Harry thought to preheat his seat for him, how lovely. It's really the only good thing about the godforsaken vehicle, those heated seats. Harry slides into the driver's side and puts the car into reverse, pulling out of his parking space.

“That, my friend, is a story for the third or fourth chocolate milk.” Harry says, with a deep sigh.

“Niall and Gemma?” Louis asks and picks a cat hair off his trousers. Damn it, Lady, must you shed?

“Zip!” Harry says, making some sort of dramatized motion with his hand, “I must be properly drunk to discuss this.”

Louis holds up his hands in a surrender, laughing at the curly haired boy.

They pull into the Friendly's parking lot and Louis grudgingly opens the door to the cold January air, flurries of snow floating into the car and a snowflake uncomfortably invading his nostril. They walk toward the decomposing restaurant. The F R I L Y and the apostrophe are all out, so at night it reads “ end s”.

Harry often tells Louis that it should read beginnings, as this is where they met as horribly confused teenagers.

Not that they still aren't horribly confused teenagers, but now they're in uni so of course they're more sophisticated. They can go and drink chocolate milk at 2 am every night, if they wanted to.

“Hi boys.” The elderly woman who works the night shift says from her position behind the counter.

“Hi Val, how are you?” Harry asks, shaking the snow out of his hair.

“Oh I'll live, I suppose.” She replies with a sigh.

“That's the spirit!” Louis cheers, also wiping flakes from his suit-clad shoulders. Val notices and shakes her head, silvery curls bouncing weakly, most of the life in them pinning down by hairspray, “I will never understand why you boys get so dressed up for this place, especially at this hour.”

“Can't two blokes look spiffy for a night on the town?” Harry says in mock offense.

“A night on the town being this crumbling children's ice cream place?” Val counters, picking out two color-changing bendy straws and sticking them in the chocolate milks she must have pre-prepared. It's gotten to the point where she recognizes both Harry and Louis' cars.

She slides them across the counter to the stools as Harry and Louis plop down. It's almost as if it's a well rehearsed dance or something.

“So what's the reason tonight then?” Val asks.

Louis sighs, “I am so single. Not even my hand wants to date me.”

Val wrinkles her nose, “And you, Harry?”

“Also quite lonely. Doesn't help when your mate's fucking your sister in the next room.” Val walks away then, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, not wanting to hear anymore.

“This is a story that must be told.” Louis says, turning to Harry with interest. Harry holds up a finger and takes a long drink of milk, holding the straw away to get more. Of course they know they can't really get drunk, but neither of them can hold their alcohol very well, and neither of them are good at being designated drivers either. So chocolate milk seemed like the best alternative.

“So I'm sleeping, right?”

“Right.”

“And Gemma was staying over. With Niall, which I'm already like not cool with, at all. And I figured maybe they'd be courteous enough to not go at it like rabbits. But, inevitably, I woke at 1:30 to sounds someone never wants to hear their sister making.”

“Such as?”

Harry blushes a little, but there's no one else in the restaurant and Val is quite used to their shenanigans after two years of entirely single and pathetic louisandharry.

“It was something like...” Harry says, and then starts moaning lowly and it slowly gets louder and higher pitched and then he's literally screaming oh NIALL! Yes Niall! Yeah yeah yeah! Uh!” And then he stops and Louis is doubled over in laughter.

“You sounded exactly like a girl, my god.” Louis says, wiping a tear that squeezed itself from his duct.

“It was really quite scarring, Tomlinson, I don't appreciate your laughter.” Harry chides, taking another sip of milk. “But then alright so it got quiet 'cause she, you know, and I hear Niall say something but apparently his accent gets thicker during sex and I couldn't understand him through the wall at all, but she says 'I can't come a fourth time Ni, I can't' like what the hell is he doing to my sister? Is it even possible to come four times in a row?”

Harry looks positively distressed. Louis doesn't even want to think about hearing Lottie or something. God.

“You know, I always thought sex with Niall and Gemma would be more like 'oh god Niall say something'” Louis makes his voice change pitch and accent with whatever voice he's imitating, “'Your vagina is the most tight babe!' or whatever the hell straight guys say and then Gemma'd go, 'oh god! Niall! Your grammar is atrocious its 'tightest' oh god I love correcting you ah ah I'm so smart! Oh god I graduated from uni! Uh! I'm coming!” Louis laughs.

Now it's Harry's turn to be doubled over, nearly crying with laughter, “To be perfectly honest I'm surprised it's not. She really does love rubbing her graduate-ism in everyone's face.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Val asks, coming over with a second round of chocolate milk.

“His sister's sex noises.” Louis answers, blinking innocently. She shakes her head and walks away from them again.

“So, anyway, they start going at it again and the headboard is banging against the wall and there's no way I could possibly get back to sleep so I got dressed in my suit and made quite a show of slamming the door so they'd know they'd woken me. Then I drove to your house and you were awake so I texted you. I would have just walked in if you weren't, honestly.”

“What else are friends for?” Louis says, nudging him with his shoulder, “But you would have walked in on a pretty disgusting scene with Zayn and Liam.”

Harry looks horrified, “They weren't using the toys in the living room, were they?”

“No! Oh god no! They save that for when I'm out, apparently it takes hours.” Louis says, trying not to think too deeply about that but failing miserably. “They were-” he pauses for effect, “-snuggling.”

Harry's eyes widen and he recoils in mock dismay, “Not snuggling! However did you make it out alive?”

Louis takes a shaky breath, “The thought of a handsome lad in a tux outside my flat kept me strong.”

Somewhere in the back Val snorts.

“You're an idiot.” Harry mutters, bumping Louis with his elbow. Louis just grins, knocking his own elbow into Harry's side in response.

Behind them, the bell signaling the opening of the door jingles. They turn around and in walks a man who looks like he's forty-five or so. He doesn't look up, not when Val tries to seat him, walks straight past her and into the middle booth on the left side. He scoots all the way in, pressed uncomfortably against the side, and drops his head into his hands. They watch as Val tentatively walks toward the man and asks softly- a voice Harry and Louis have never had the privilege to hear, all they get is sarcasm and insults- if he'd like to order anything. He just shakes his head and she walks away.

Now Louis and Harry have never been people to let other people's emotions or other people in general control them. Once, at a fancy restaurant for Zayn's birthday, they started loudly singing the “you look like a monkey” version of Happy Birthday, an extended version they'd stayed up 'til 4 am (at Friendly's) writing the previous night. And it wasn't that they hadn't noticed the people glaring at them, per se, it was that they really didn't give a fuck. They were having fun, screw everyone else.

They got kicked out anyway.

So when Louis is ready for the third round of chocolate milk and he thinks maybe he should stay quiet to let the man sort through whatever emotions he's feeling, he quiets that thought and instead starts loudly singing. Hm, there seems to be a pattern.

“WELL SOMETIMES I GO OUT BY MYSELF, AND I LOOK ACROSS THE WATER!” He starts, and Harry doesn't even miss a beat with the “doo doo doo”s.

“AND I THINK OF ALL THE THINGS WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND IN MY HEAD I PAINT A PICTURE!”

Harry adds in a little background “paint a pictu-ure!”

“SINCE I'VE COME ON HOME WELL MY BODY'S BEEN A MESS, AND I MISS YOU/R SILVER HAIR AND YOUR FRIENDLY'S UNIFORM DRESS! WON'T YOU COME ON OVER, STOP MAKING A FOOL OUT OF MEEEEE! Take it away Harry!”

Harry takes a deep breath and bellows out, “WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER VALERIE!”

Louis harmonizes with him then, “VALERIE-E-E! VALERIEEEE!”

And then Harry stands up on the counter and holds his hand out for Louis. Louis gladly takes it, both of them still belting out the lyrics, “blah blah”ing the ones they can't remember, and twirling on the counter.

“And dip, Louis!” Harry commands, breaking his harmony for a moment after a twirl. His right hand holds securely at the small of Louis' back and his left rests on the dip of his waist, so light it nearly tickles. Louis remembers in school once, in gym class they were learning the tango (god knows why) and he had to be dipped and he either fell or screamed. But he trusts Harry with everything, wholeheartedly and forever, so he lets most of his weight go and lifts up one leg, dipping back gracefully while singing the second chorus. “Over” is still interrupted by a high pitched squeal-scream, which has Harry laughing, all open mouthed and shiny-eyed, and the song in the room is replaced by a different kind of music.

“You boys know full well my name is Valentina.” Val says, finally appearing. Or had she been there for a while? Louis' not sure, he was busy being twirled.

Harry's still giggling and Louis' is still hanging from his arms, head tilted back and pressure building up in his nose.

“Can we have more chocolate milk?”

Val sighs, “You're going to vomit and I just mopped.”

“Wow, thanks, glad to know you have your priorities straight.” Louis mutters, pouting, and it must be a weird sight honestly, upside down and all.

“We'll switch to ice cream if you dance with us!” Harry offers, standing Louis up and opening his arms in invitation. Val rolls her eyes and shrugs, moving closer to the counter they are standing on.

Harry helps Val up and she says, “Always wanted to have a threesome.”

“Valentina, you are positively destroying the mood.” Louis says with disgust and the old woman just shrugs, “A bucket list is a bucket list.”

“Well I'm sorry to tell you it's not being crossed off tonight.” Harry says, making sure she's steady on the counter.

“Are you going to sing again?” She asks, insulting them while still being maybe slightly genuinely frightened. It's not that they were bad, per se, it's just that they were bad. They could be good, but they chose not too, bad is more fun.

“No, I'll play some music.” Louis decides, thumbing through his phone and settling on a song. For two songs they all stand on the counter top and dance obnoxiously, until Val decides she's “too old for this shit”. She probably felt like a third wheel, they know how much she loves to dance, but Louis and Harry just know each other, they know how they work and how they move. It's easy to dance with someone you know the way the sea knows the shore.

She gets down from the counter easily, and mutters something about tending to the man in the back as she walks away. The song changes then, one of Louis' favorites, but too slow to dance like they had been. He reaches for his phone in his pocket, spewing the tinny music, but before he can reach it, suddenly he's pressed against Harry, with Harry's hands on his back and holding him there. Harry is slowly swaying back and forth.

“Har-”

“Sh.”

“Did you just shush m-”

“Sh.”

“But-”

“Sh. Slow dance with me, you idiot.”

Louis mentally shrugs, and repositions himself so he's not haphazardly crushed to the taller boy's chest. He shifts his arms and then clasps his hands behind Harry's neck, and Harry moves his hands so they're on his waist.

Louis looks up at Harry, “Am I the girl in this relationship?”

Harry smirks, one corner of his mouth quirking up and eyes twinkling, “You're smaller, and stuff.”

Louis just 'harrumph's and moves closer, resting his head in the crook between Harry's neck and shoulder. They sway and turn at the same time (wow multitasking) very slowly. Harry's thumbs drag slow, light circles into the fabric of Louis' suit, the sensation ghosting through to his skin. Eventually, he's turned 180 degrees and is now facing Val, who's sitting at a booth with a crossword in front of her, but she's not looking at it. She's watching them, glassy eyed, and swaying along to the song as well. The man in the back is looking too, and he has tear stained cheeks, but there is a small smile on his lips. Louis just blinks sleepily at them, it is three am after all, and Louis can hear Harry's heart thudding and thumping and it's probably the most calming sound he's heard, despite the fact that as far as heartbeats go, this one is racing.

 

Long story short, Louis fell asleep on Harry's shoulder.

“Louis, you're tired, let me take you home.” Harry says. They've been arguing for a few minutes, sitting in the warmth of Harry's car still parked in the Friendly's parking lot.

“No! I had a nice little snooze, I'm not tired anymore.” He insists. A yawn stretches his mouth wide, completely contradicting him. Harry looks at him pointedly.

“No, I don't want to go home. I'll get lonely again.” Louis says, and Harry's resolve seems to fizzle out.

“Fine, where do you want to go?”

Louis thinks for a minute, then says, “Take me to the beach, Curly.”

Harry doesn't argue, or express any surprise really, just buckles himself in and starts driving.

 

Louis get's a little philosophical and gay (not hard when you're already gay) at four am. Happens to the best of us, really. The snow is hitting the windshield as they drive on the highway, but when he looks out the window it looks much slower and floaty-er.

“I think my new favorite color is the color of headlights. Not the new blue-y ones, or the pink-y ones either. Like, traditional headlights. Headlight colored. Or street lamp lights. Christmas lights, the white ones.” Louis rambles, laying his temple on the cold plastic of the interior of the car, feeling the cold air leech through the glass of the window and fizzle into his hair, kissing onto his scalp. “You?”

There's a beat of silence, and Louis watches through droopy eyelids as Harry ponders, looking over at him for a moment before returning his attention to the road, “The color of the sky when it snows at night. S'like a blanket, or something.”

Louis nods a little, satisfied with the answer, and turns his gaze back to the snowflakes.

People, he thinks, are a lot like snowflakes. They have a start and an end. They have their ups and downs- happy moments and sad days. Louis assumes sometimes snowflakes get sad. Sometimes snowflakes have to get angry. Snowflakes can have bad days and be colder than the others. Sometimes snowflakes must get lonely. But like people, snowflakes end up falling together and building this beautiful, wonderful thing that glitters in the sun.

“Has anyone ever told you,” Harry says, and his voice catches a little, Louis takes the small pause and looks up, raising his head from it's rested position, “that you have quite a prominent jawline?”

“Eyes on the road, Curly.” Louis says, chuckling a bit and rolling his eyes. Harry makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan and keeps driving.

“We're going to need to stop for gas soon.” Harry says, interrupting the short silence.

“Alright, I'll pay.” Louis offers.

“No.”

“And why ever not?” Louis protests, sitting up straighter, “I am the one dragging you and this godforsaken vehicle to the beach in the middle of a snowstorm, it's only fair I feed the monster.”

“Hey! Be nice to Louise.” Harry says, rubbing the dashboard with one hand.

“You named your vehicle Louise?” Louis splutters, and then, “Oh my god, Harry, did you name your chipped and dented and piece of shit car after me?”

“Well, I-”

“What a blow to the self esteem, man! Am I the equivalent to your shitty, bajillion year old and broken automobile?”

“No! You're wo-”

“I don't think our friendship will ever recover. You named your shit car after me, your shit car reminded you of me!” Louis' not actually mad, really, he just likes to give Harry shit.

There's a bit of a splutter and pause before Harry bursts out, “Well I love my car.” He'd tripped over his words, 'my' coming out like 'yimy', so now, naturally, Louis has to mock him.

“Yimy?” Louis giggles, and watches the side of Harry's face he can see blush a lovely shade of pink.

“You know, you can pay. And you can put the gas in the car. And I think it's a bit presumptuous to say I named my car after you.” Harry says, his voice sounds steely but his mouth is quirking up.

“It'd be presumptuous if you'd named your car "hottest man alive with the best bum ever."" Louis says, and when Harry doesn't reply he singsongs, "Love you, Curly!”, leaning his head down and bopping his forehead on Harry's shoulder.

“Love you too, Lou.” Harry mumbles, with far less gusto than Louis.

Harry gets off the highway at the next exit where there was a sign for a gas station. Louis leans his head onto Harry shoulder and leaves it there, the bone digging into his temple but he doesn't really care.

“I'm very glad I have you to make me un-lonely.” Louis murmurs the thought that crossed his eyelids when he blinked.

“Shut up, Lou, you get sappy when it's late.” Harry says, and Louis can hear the eye roll. He knows Harry like the light switches in his house back in Doncaster. He just shrugs, moving his head to a slightly more comfortable position, and staring out the windshield where the headlights are setting the snowflakes on fire, and the red tail lights of the car in front of them spread their color all through the scattered water droplets on the glass- a thousand fragments of a heart, drops of blood, frozen passion and hatred.

Louis falls asleep for five minutes until he feels the car stop beneath him.

“Lou, I'll do the gas but I need you to take your head off me.” Harry whispers, and Louis feels his finger jab into the hollow of his cheek. Once when he was sleeping, Harry filled that spot with salsa and ate chips off his face. Harry seems to be rather obsessed with Louis' bone structure.

“No, no, I'll do it.” Louis slurs before even opening his eyes. He does then, sitting up slowly. Five minutes really can take a toll on your body. He stretches, arching his back and unfurling his arms, whimpering noises being pulled from his chest as he does so.

He thinks he hears a little sigh from Harry, “Alright! I'm going I'm going.” He says, relaxing his muscles. Harry starts to say something but Louis' already got out of the car and closed the door.

He enters the correct amount of gas and inserts the nozzle in the car. Snowflakes keep falling into his eyelashes and if he crosses his eyes he can see one perched on his nose. His nose is always cold, perfect snowflake habitation.

Well, it's four thirty in the morning and it's snowing, why not be a five year old again? Louis decides, beginning to twirl in the shower of snow, sprinkling down from the clouds. He starts giggling as he twirls, the world passing by his eyes in a blur- like he's riding past time, faster than it and racing it until the very end and he'll get there first. He'll win, win against time and the world and life and the universe, he'll come out on top of it all.

“Louis.” Louis hears, and stops spinning suddenly, Harry is standing in front of him. Louis keeps giggling, the world tipping. The snow has picked up in his brief spin break, and he can't quite read Harry's expression through the snow. The whole dizzy thing isn't helping. He uses one hand to steady himself on Harry's shoulder, but misses and ends up resting his palm on Harry's chest, but it works.

“Louis.” Harry repeats, and he sounds choked. Louis moves closer to minimize the amount of snowflakes between them so he can see his face. He looks confused, maybe a little scared?

“Harry, are yo-” He starts but then Harry's kissing him like he's in free fall without a parachute: fast and desperate and like he's too scared to scream.

Louis kisses back, and suddenly he doesn't know why he never thought of this. It all just, it all fits. Like puzzles or gears or, well, people, he supposes. Their lips, its like there's never been a better match. They're moving together so nicely, completely severing Louis' mind from his body with the feeling. He's so warm and Harry's mouth tastes so sweet and his little whimpered moans are even sweeter. If Louis wasn't feeling so floaty he might have realized that he's pushed Harry back so he's up against the car, his fists wound up in the fabric of his suit. He never wants to stop doing this- this is how to live, this is what god had in mind when he created humans or mother nature when she got the formula right for evolution- it all leads up to this exact moment: Harry's tongue in his mouth and his hands in his hair and moans being passed between them lightning passes between the earth and the sky. The whole world could blow up right now and it would be entirely okay with everyone because mankind's purpose was fulfilled the second their lips met.

Though, damn god or mother nature or whoever, because regrettably humans have to breathe. Harry's the first to pull away, eyes wide and lips red and swollen. Sound catches up with Louis' ears, all the noise whooshing right back to his ears. The gas machine sounds confused and the snowflakes make quiet 'blips' when they hit the ground, but all Louis hears is Harry's heartbeat and his breathing and his voice when he says, “That wasn't supposed to happen.”

Louis heart had been skipping and running and leaping in his chest, and it skids to a halt, falls flat on its face and rakes up a mouthful of dirt.

“W-what?” He stammers, somehow managing to command his fingers to unclench from Harry's suit. He can feel his face rearranging from a look of euphoria to one of absolute devastation.

“No, Lou, I meant it wasn't meant to happen like that.” Harry amends as Louis steps backward. He reaches out, pulling him back.

“Then how was it meant to?” Louis asks, genuinely curious because he's not sure there was anything more amazing than that kiss.

“I was just going to tell you- tell you I'm- I'm really un-lonely when I'm with you, and like, hopefully we'd kiss then. But, like gentler. And I wanted to tell you I lied, my favorite color is gold, like your skin. I don't know, I wanted it to be sweeter for the first time and-”

Louis cuts him off with his mouth, then, leaning in and pressing a closed mouth kiss to Harry's chapped lips. After a few moments he pulls away, “Like that?”

“Yes, yes exactly like that.” Harry nods, looking entirely blissed out.

Eventually they do tend to the disgruntled gas machine and Louis pays. Then they get into the car and everything seems a lot more real n the enclosed space. Like, now what? Is kissing a regular thing? Are they dating? Friends with benefits? Or was it a one time thing?

Harry answers his question a few minutes down the road, swerving and pulling over in the break down lane, “Can I kiss you again? And can we be lonely together, like together?”

They've always been on the same wavelength, they know each other like a dying man knows his last breath.

It's all Louis can do to nod before Harry's leaning over the glove compartment and the stick shift to attach his lips to Louis'. It was supposed to be short and like moderately chaste, but somehow Louis ends up with a hard on pressing to the fabric of his dress pants and Harry's trying to get as close as possible, presumably with the same issue.

“We probably shouldn't, too early and all that.” Harry says, panting a bit.

“Always the fucking voice of reason, aren't you, Curly?” Louis huffs, really enjoying the idea of making Harry come in his pants but still seeing where he's coming from.

“Always.” Harry grins, white teeth framed by strawberry lips. Louis lets out a dramatized sigh, trying to find a comfortable position so his dick isn't pressing to the inseam of his trousers.

“Louis, you look positively exhausted, go to sleep, will you? I'll wake you up when we're there.” Harry urges, still turned to him as they're still on the side of the road.

Louis knows arguing is useless, so he just says, “Hold my hand, you twat.” and curls up on his side and holds out one hand. Harry interlocks their fingers, and again Louis is struck with just how perfect everything is, just how fitted they are. He drifts off with the thought, sleep over taking him slowly, snowflakes layering over his mind building up into something silent and heavy.

 

“Lou, love, wake up.” Harry's voice filters into Louis' sleep ridden mind. Harry always called him love, but now it's not just a friendly pet name, but something that sends a jolt down Louis' spine.

Louis' eyes fly open, and his body begins to slowly grind into motion, fingers beginning to clench before they feel that Harry's are still between them, though when he looks at the clock its an hour later, nearly 6 in the morning.

“Mornin'.” He grumbles, frowning at the sleep taste in his mouth, “Got any gum?”

Louis regrets asking because then Harry's fingers are gone from between his own and he feels strangely un-whole and empty. Looking at the curly haired boy, dark against the nearly turquoise sky, Louis just doesn't understand how he hadn't seen it earlier. But, in a way, some part of him had. When they'd first met at “ end s” three years ago, some part of him just gravitated toward the boy with his baby face and pink lips and tight curls. And, he supposes, what he thought was instant friendship may have been love at first sight. Maybe.

And maybe when they had sleepovers they cuddled a bit more than normal friends and maybe Louis had complimented Harry's lips a few too many times and maybe Harry had held his hand with the fingers interlocked and pinched his nipples too much and maybe they gave each other boners sometimes “as a joke” and... Louis doesn't know how they just kissed tonight, after all that.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Harry's voice brings him back from his reverie, and he finds himself staring out the windshield and there are lips hovering just over the shell of his ear, warm breath curling into the spirals of the architecture and sending a shiver down his spine. Harry's lips are so close he can feel him smirk, but he's still not touching. Louis is frozen, waiting, and then there it is- Harry lightly scrapes his teeth over the cartilage, and then moves down and closes his lips around the lobe, suckling and nibbling a bit. Louis' dick twitches in his pants, but he tries to ignore it. There's a sunrise to watch over the ocean and all.

“Years of being best friends has had its advantage.” Harry says lowly in his ear.

“And what would that be?” Louis prompts, pretending it didn't take all sorts of control to keep his voice even.

“I know exactly what makes you tick. I know all your favorite spots to be kissed, licked- helps that I have this huge crush on you and took all the bits of information to think about when I'd wank. I know all your kinks, all your secret desires. I know, that if I just...” Harry leans over him more, as Louis is still lied down from when he'd been sleeping, “...bit... right... here.” He touches the spot gently, “That spot you're always playing with when you're nervous. Calming when you do it,” he pauses and leans down, Louis' breath hitches and then Harry's teeth and lips are on his neck, just above his collar bone and nearly on his shoulder. Louis lets out a moan, almost keening, “but exciting when it's someone else.” Harry finishes.

And then he sits back so fast Louis is unsure he was ever there, and he says cheerfully, “Sun rise is about to start, I checked my phone earlier, lets sit on the hood and watch.”

Louis' mouth drops open, as now he's almost completely hard. Harry just grins and then opens and closes the door, a few snowflakes drifting onto the black fabric of the seat. He watches Harry walk up and climb onto the hood of the car, facing the sea and the skyline. Louis takes a moment to calm the buzzing in his body, hoping his boner isn't embarrassingly obvious.

When Harry's eyes go straight to his crotch though, it's obvious it is.

“Shut up, it's your fault.” Louis says, sitting down next to him, the metal a shocking temperature difference to his body.

“I never said it wasn't, now would you be quiet and watch the world wake up?”

“Australia's already woken up.” Louis points out.

“Twat.”

Louis just smiles, tucking it into his shoulder. Harry looks at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up just a bit.

He turns his head and looks then, at the colors littering the sky. It's still snowing over them, but closer to the horizon there's an end to the clouds with small ones striping the sky. The edges are all different shades of pink and orange- the colors of happiness and summer days and lazy cuddling. And then the sun pokes out over the sea, glowing yellow and gold and washing everything with more light- golden beams shooting out and setting everything ablaze with light and warmth. The snowflakes falling around them look less silver and more gold, maybe copper, glinting in the weak beginning light.

“What a lovely beginning.” Harry murmurs, and it really is.

“I want all my beginnings with you.” Louis says, turning to face him. Harry turns too and smiles, his face washed gold in the sun and snowflakes trembling in his eyelashes.

They kiss, blazing in the sun rays and bathing in snowflakes. Louis pushes his hands under Harry's suit jacket and button up shirt.

“You're cold.” Harry murmurs into his mouth (Louis then remembers he never got any gum, but his mouth tastes better and Harry hasn't said anything.)

“Warm me up.” Louis says, and Harry knows what he means.

They kiss more, surrounded in gold and silver and pink and orange and yellow. The grind down into each other on the hood of the car, moaning and groaning and whispering to each other, and when they come nearly simultaneously, so does the sun, it bursts up over the horizon, encompassing everything and anything and for a moment burning it all into dust, lines blurring and shifting, the gold is everywhere, all around them. They are in a pocket of paradise, a piece of bliss. It all feels like the most important beginning Louis will ever experience. That when the earth woke up this time, it was only for them.

They come down, shifting from the haze and breathing hard.

“I can't believe we just did that in suits.” Harry says, more breath than voice. Louis lets out a breathless laugh, and they stay there for a few more minutes, kissing lazily before starting to shiver and retreating to the warmth of the car.

They get straight in the back, and Harry lies down first, opening his arms in an invitation for Louis to settle into them. Harry wraps his arms around Louis' waist, holding him close and pressing a kiss behind his ear, and all those times Louis was alone and was yearning to be somewhere- it was here. Right here in the sunlight and the snowflakes and wrapped in Harry's arms.

The last thing he sees before sleep slips over him is two snowflakes falling together.