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va te faire foutre, chéri

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Louis isn’t lonely. He’s not.

It’s just. He doesn’t feel the need to always be on the hunt for a partner. That’s just dumb. He is perfectly fine as he is. He’s got the lads, the crew, his family and Stan.

Which is why, when Jay tells Louis about a ‘potential’ - more like mandatory - blind date with one of her friend’s son, he’s mildly annoyed.

“Oh, Louis, darling. It’ll be good for you. You’ve been so down since you and that Henry lad broke it off. You were so cute together. ”

Louis narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, hiding slightly behind his teacup. “Harry and I have never been a thing, grandma. We’re just friends.”

Jay gives Louis a stern look from the other side of the table and Louis shrugs. “Whatever you say, darling. Don’t try to lie to me though; I saw how you looked at him.” His grandma can be incredibly stubborn at the best of times (Jay always says that’s where Louis got his stubbornness from, which is probably the truth), but what made her so convinced that he and Harry was a bloody thing, he might never know. It’s not like Harry visited Doncaster about a thousand times. Nope, no. Not at all. Pfft.

Anyway. What mum and I are trying to say, is that you should give it a shot, love. I think he could be just right for you, or he could be a total prick-,”

“Language, young lady.”

“-Which I’m pretty sure he isn’t. The thing is that you’ll never know until you try, right? Maybe it’s a good way to make friends as well. Meeting new people and that.” Jay tilts her head and looks at him sadly. Louis tries not to roll his eyes. His mum is such a cliché. “I just want you to be happy, boo.”

He can hear his grandma opening and closing the cupboards and then a small box of biscuits is placed on the table. There is some soft grumbling about everything being too high and Jay complains about her mother being too physical for her age. Louis considers his options; going on the bloody date and making his mum satisfied, or completely ignoring it and staying on his couch while eating crisps that exact night. Maybe he could persuade Harry into going out to a club with him or something. That’d be fun.

Louis drinks his tea quietly, eating a biscuit or two, while the bickering on the other side of the table grows louder. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just don’t mention it to the girls, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Jay almost shouts out of joy and rises from her chair so fast it startles both Louis and his grandmother. She hugs Louis so tight he might die - he doesn’t - and runs off to call her friend about ‘the happy news’. Cliché.

Half an hour later when Jay has spoken to her friend, (Emily, Elaine, Ellie, something) she enters the kitchen with the biggest grin Louis has ever witnessed. She is suspiciously quiet, and she sits down on the chair next to him, still beaming but not saying a word. Louis raises an eyebrow and gestures for her to speak up. “So?”

“She was very happy that you choose to go. Her son has been paying way too much attention to his job, and she thinks that you’re exactly what he needs right now. All she has to do is convince him to go too, and then we can decide on the details.”

-

Louis goes back to London four days later, after an awful amount of hugging and promises to be careful on tour. He makes a brief stop at Sainsbury’s to get some groceries before driving back to his flat. It takes him about eight seconds after unlocking his door to know that he’s not alone.

“Have you ever heard of renting a temporary flat?” Louis drops his bags in the hall and hangs his jacket on the hook. He peeks into the kitchen, but to his surprise it’s empty. He continues towards the lounge, where he’s met by a mop of curls and bright eyes, hands stretched out to swallow Louis up in a hug. Harry is wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of sweats that Louis is about eighty-nine percent sure is his, since they’re a bit too short for Harry’s long legs.

“Louis, you’re back!” Louis fights the urge to reply with something sarcastic, because of course he’s bloody here. Tour starts a month, Christ. Instead, he breathes in the smell of Harry’s after shave and raspberry shampoo, feeling oddly like home, even though he technically just left home. “Y’alright, mate?” Louis asks into Harry’s hair.

They let go of each other and Louis makes his way into the kitchen, putting the kettle on. “Yeah, I’m good. They’re still working on the house though, so I need somewhere to kip for another week or two. Maybe three if we’re out of luck.”

“Hey, don’t be stupid. You know you’re always welcome here.” Louis takes down two teacups and the teabags from the cabinet as the water boils. Harry gets out sugar and milk before reaching over to the kettle to switch it off. They make their tea in silence, not needing to fill it with conversation. Louis walks out of the kitchen, Harry hot on his heels, and into the living room where the TV is showing one of Harry’s stupid cooking shows, muted. They sit down on the couch and Louis changes the channel to a football game instead. Much better.

“So how’s everyone back in Donny? Haven’t been up there in while. S’ Jay alright? The girls?” Harry’s love for the girls is astonishing sometimes, even to Louis. Every time Harry goes to visit the girls are his number one focus, all band member oaths forgotten. Louis isn’t jealous.

“They’re good, yeah. Mum has probably gone mental, though. Forced me into going on a blind date,” The flat is kind of chilly, so Louis cuddles close to Harry, head on his shoulder. Harry throws an arm around Louis, pulling him in. If anyone would walk in on them right now, they might question the whole ‘friendship’ thing, but Harry makes him feel safe and that’s all that matters. “Don’t think I’ll show up though. Don’t even know the bloke’s name.”

“Lou. That’s just rude.” Louis rolls his eyes. “By the way, isn’t that kind of the thing with blind dates, though? Not knowing anything about one another?”

“Yeah, well, a name would still be nice.” He mutters as he reaches for the TV remote so zap through the channels again. He settles on a re-run of Top Model where Tyra Banks is complementing a pale girl’s cheek bones. Louis mentally agrees; the girl does have an amazing bone structure.

Harry puts his already half-empty cup (how did that happen?) on the coffee table and looks down on Louis. “When are you going? Is it up in Doncaster?”

“I dunno yet. Mum was gonna call me when she knows if he even said yes. It was kind of decided that we are going without actually asking us if we wanted.”

Harry looks thoughtful, a small frown on his pretty little face. As if on cue, Louis’ phone rings and he answers without having to look on the caller ID. He has a special phone signal for everyone in his family, even his biological dad, although they barely speak at all. Louis hardly remembers him, but it’s still nice to know that Louis can call him if he wants.

“Hello, Lotts. What’s up?” Louis takes a careful sip of his still hot tea, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. There is a slight rumble on the other line and Louis shrugs at Harry who’s looking questioning. “Hello?”

“Yes, hi, love. It’s me,” Louis frowns and gets up to leave the room. It’s not like he’s keeping secrets from Harry, but his mum can be pretty embarrassing sometimes. He’s not very fond of Harry overhearing her complaining about Louis not washing his bloody ears properly. Not again. “You busy?”

“Mum? Why are you calling from Lottie’s phone?”

“Oh, mine’s dead. We’re in the car to go shopping, and I just got a call from Eileen,” Louis sighs and makes a noise for her to continue. “He said yes, and we decided on next Saturday, is that alright? He’s very busy; he’s doing some very important job at BBC.”

A snobby one, then, probably. Isn’t that just lovely. Louis makes a mental note that if the bloke starts bragging about his job in the first half hour, Louis is going to leave. Right away. Well, if he decides to turn up at all. Duh.

“Fine. Just tell Ellen-“

“Eileen.”

“Whatever. Just I’ll her to tell, uhm, him, that I will not sign anything. At all. Not even a napkin.”

Jay laughs. “Will do. Bye, puppet. I’ll text you when and the name of the restaurant in a bit. Love you.”

“Bye. Love you, too.” Jay hangs up after that and Louis turns around to head back into the lounge, when he meets Harry’s smirking face. “Shut up.”

Harry raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.” The little shit is still grinning knowingly, though, and Louis wants to punch his face.

Louis walks past him into the living room, leaving his teacup in the kitchen, and flops down on the couch again. Harry stays in the doorway, watching him. Louis feels his face heat slightly under Harry’s gaze, for no reason at all, so he decides to look the other way. Which. He of course does. Right.

Harry snorts and shakes his head, walking towards the couch and Louis. “So? Are you going to tell me about it?”

Louis tries to roll his eyes nonchalantly, but it probably looks way too fond, judging from the look on Harry’s face. Harry settles next to Louis and Louis does his best to ignore his puppy eyes. Louis is pretty much immune to them by now. Almost. “You don’t deserve to know, you little shit to eavesdropper, but fine. I’m feeling nice today. We’re going out on Saturday next week. Where, I don’t know. Mum said she’d get me the d-“

“Next week?” Harry interrupts; eyes wide in surprise. “But that’s like,” Harry pauses for a bit and brings up his hand to count the days left on his fingers. Child.

“Eight days?”

“Right. That’s eight bloody days, Lou! We have to get you a haircut, you look horrible,”

“What? Fuck no!”

“We need to get you some nice clothes,” Harry continues, ignoring Louis’ protest. “And then you need to buy him flowers. We’ll do that the same day though, or otherwise they’ll die.”

If Louis is giving him a death stare, Harry is the only one to blame. Harry must be mental, Louis is sure. “Are you actually serious?”

Harry frowns. “Yes, of course.”

“Harry, I’m not going to get a fucking haircut for a stranger. I’m quite fond of my hair, thank you very much.” Harry is pouting again, but Louis just snorts and turns up the volume of the telly, which is now playing old Scrubs episodes. Not that he particularly likes the show, but it’s better than Harry’s stupid pouting and exaggerated puppy eyes.

“Fine. You’re still going, though.” Harry mumbles, and then the conversation is over.

-

Rehearsals are going great; it’s always just as exiting every time a new tour is about to start. The lads are buzzing with energy after the long break, Louis included, and it’s just fun. The days pass a lot sooner than Louis wants them to, though, which is less fun. In the blink of an eye it’s suddenly a couple of days left to the stupid date. Louis isn’t agitated about it at all.

They are meant to meet up at a fancy, small Greek restaurant on the west side of London and ‘if it goes well, you can go to a pub that’s right around the corner’ (Jay’s words, to Louis’ horror). Not that Louis thinks that a first date could ever go so well that deciding to have a pint after would be suiting. That’s, like, against the rules of first dates or summat. But still.

When he comes into the kitchen on Friday morning, Harry is sitting hunched up on a chair, leaning close to the radio that is placed on the table. Louis can hear voices coming from it and it takes him a second or two to register what they are talking about. They are discussing blind dates, of course, and Louis can hear Nick Grimshaw laugh at something Matt Fincham just said. Harry snorts and leans closer to the radio, lowering the volume.

“Morning, Haz.” Louis rasps as he walks over to the counter where his favourite cup is neatly placed next to his Yorkshire teabags. Harry is an angel.

He can see Harry jumping a bit from the corner of his eyes, and then the radio is turned off. That’s definitely okay, though. Louis isn’t really a big fan of Nick Grimshaw, doesn’t listen to the show as regularly as Harry. Only when they’re on tour and he can’t sleep. Maybe once or twice in the car to work as well. If he has the show as his alarm too, well, nobody needs to know. “Christ, Lou. I didn’t hear you coming in,” Harry clears his throat. “Slept well?”

“Alright, I guess,” Louis turns around with his tea in hand, blowing lightly on the surface to make it cooler. Harry is avoiding his gaze and scratching his scalp, a habit he always has when he’s feeling nervous. “You?”

Harry nods, too eagerly and Louis raises an eyebrow at him. He’s being weird. “Yeah, fine. I just – I have to make a call.” He hurries out of the kitchen, taking the radio with him. Louis frowns and shakes his head. That lad needs serious help sometimes.

-

“You’re nervous.”

Harry is helping him pick out clothes for the dinner as Louis sits on the bed, hair dripping from his shower. He isn’t wearing anything but a towel wrapped around his hips and it’s getting kind of cold now. He wishes Harry would stop talking and get him some bloody clothes already.

“Am not.” Louis tries. It’s obviously a lie, but it’s worth a try.

“Your leg is bouncing, which it only does when you’re nervous or mad. I would guess nervous in this situation, since you have nothing to be mad over, only a date in about ninety minutes. Therefore, nervous.” Harry turns away from Louis’ wardrobe and winks before throwing a t-shirt at his face.

“Calm down, Sherlock Holmes.” Louis mumbles, but his ears heats up anyway. Harry reads him like an open book, and it’s not as scary as it should be. It’s rather comforting, actually, not always having to talk about your emotions and all that.

Harry chuckles, picking out a pair of pants and Louis’ favourite black jeans. He folds them and puts them next to Louis on the bed, reaching over to give him a kiss on Louis’ forehead. “I’ll get the hairdryer.” He whispers before walking out of the room, leaving Louis to get dressed.

Harry is back ten minutes later, just as Louis puts on his t-shirt, hairdryer in hand and a fond look on his face. He murmurs something about Louis looking quite handsome, making Louis roll his eyes, and grabs the dryer from Harry’s hand. He plugs it in and starts styling his hair, not quite getting it as he’d like. Maybe he’ll just wear a beanie instead. It’s not like he has to convince some stranger that he’s pretty. Hopefully the bloke has eyes for himself. Duh.

By the time Louis has to leave, he is absolutely shitting it. Harry isn’t helping either, teasing Louis towards insanity.

“Be careful now, alright? Try not to kill him, use a condom, and please. Wash your mouth before coming back home. I don’t want to be forced to smell –“

“Goodbye, Harry!” Louis shouts before closing the front door in Harry’s face, walking out to his car. Louis takes a deep breath before starting the engine and backs out of the parking lot. He decides to drive around the block a few more times, making him a teeny, tiny bit late. Well, almost ten minutes, but who’s counting? Not Louis.

When he arrives at the restaurant he is greeted by a dark-haired, young woman with a bright smile. He tells her his name and she nods eagerly, asking him to follow her. She walks right across the entire restaurant, to the back where small booths are installed, decorated with black leather and dark, red roses on the tables. The lady beckons him over to a booth where a man with brunette hair is sitting, back towards Louis, and he has to take a deep breath before approaching.

Which, well, he probably shouldn’t have done.

As it turns out, the hair belongs to Nick Grimshaw, who is looking just as surprised to see Louis, as Louis probably looks to see Nick. Suddenly, everything makes sense. Fancy job at BBC, Harry hiding the radio as well as telling Louis not to kill the bloke. He is now not very sure he can keep that last promise.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise, huh, Tomlinson?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Louis turns towards the girl who is now looking slightly uncomfortable and confused. “Are you sure this is the right table?” He tried to look behind her shoulder to see if there might be anyone else who is waiting for someone, but there isn’t. He looks down on Nick, who is looking mildly annoyed about the night’s events, but still gestures Louis to sit down on the chair across of him. Cunt.

Louis shakes his head. “No fucking way. I’m not going to waste a perfect Saturday night on you, Grimshaw. That’s not going to happen. Bye.”

He turns around to leave the restaurant, but is stopped by a hand around his wrist, forcing him to face Nick. “Oh come on. It’s not that bad. I’ll be nice, promise. Just sit down, would you? You’re causing a scene.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Give me one good reason.”

Nick sighs and lets go of Louis’ wrist. His wrist feels cold without Nick’s hand and Louis has to look down to stop himself from blushing. It’s stupid. “I’ll pay for dinner?” Nick tries. It’s not a very good reason to make him stay, Louis is a multimillionaire, gosh, but he does it anyway. Why, he isn’t quite sure. Maybe it’s because almost the entire restaurant are looking their way, and Louis feels like a twit.

He takes the seat opposite of Nick, as asked earlier, and the waitress hands him the menu. He scans it through, glancing over it once or twice (or ten times) to watch Nick as he reads his own. Nick is wearing navy-blue, skinny jeans, a red t-shirt with some dumb hipster band’s logo on and what looks like a leather jacket hanging on his chair. He could be quite attractive, if he didn’t have such stupid hair and stupid eyes and stupid nose and stupid face. Louis has the sudden urge to lick Nick’s cheek and kicks at himself at the same time for thinking such things. How embarrassing, he is.

“So,” Nick says after a while, putting down his menu on the table. “What do you do for a living, dear?”

Louis rolls his eyes and tries to act unconcerned. “Shut up. You probably know more about my life than I do.”

“Yes, I probably do, but we’re on a date and the point of dating-“

“We’re not dating.”

“-is to get to know each other, right? So I’m going to ask you again, Lewis-“

“It’s Louis, twat.”

“I know. Now stop interrupting me and answer my question. What do you work with, Louis?” Louis has to take a deep breath not to put his fork into Nick’s body. That wouldn’t be such a nice headline, Louis thinks. ‘Popstar Murders BBC Radio One Personality – The Nation Mourns Together’. On a second thought, that does sounds kind of nice. Louis could just flee to Russia or North Korea to hide from going into jail. That could work.

Louis puts down his menu on the table, clearing his throat. “I’m in a band.” This is stupid.

Nick oh’s and looks what too enthusiastic, leaning closer to Louis. “Have I heard of said band?”

Louis tries very hard not to scoff, but it’s useless. “Yeah, you have. We’re sort of a big deal these days.”

Nick chuckles and Louis can see his Adam’s apple bob. He is not affected.”Flattering ourselves, are we, dear?”

Louis grits his teeth, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to either, because in that moment the waitress arrives and they both order their drinks. Louis has to drive home, so he settles for mineral water, meanwhile Nick orders a glass of red. The waitress leaves and returns again shortly after, drinks balancing steadily on her black tray, and then they’re left alone, silence hovering over them.

Nick sighs and rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I work with?”

“No.”

“Alright then. How are the rehearsals going?”

“You could just ask Harry. You seem to talk quite regularly. ” Louis knows he’s being a prick, but he can’t help it. Nick frowns and takes a sip of his wine.

“Is that why you don’t like me? Because I’m pals with Harry?” Louis blushes.

“No.” It’s the truth. Harry can hang out with whoever he wants.

“You obviously have something against me, I want to know what.”

Louis can’t answer that. It’s quite noticeable that Louis doesn’t like most media people, but Nick is different. He’s not only a media bloke, he is a friend, or at least he should be. He sounds like home, Harry always says, which is understandable since they’re both from Manchester-ish. So instead of answering, Louis just shrugs.

“You need to stop lying to yourself, Louis.”

Louis frowns but doesn’t ask about it. Where the fuck did that some from? Louis doesn’t lie to himself. He’s an adult, damn it. An adult that’s perfectly fine on his own, thank you very much. The question is why he’s still here. This is just stupid.

Louis swallows and decides that it’s time for them to stop talking. He waves a waiter over to their table and orders his food. Louis considers ordering the most expensive dish in the list, just because Nick promised to pay, but he doesn’t. He decides on Souvláki brochettes, meanwhile Nick orders some chicken Maka-saka-bla bla bla thing. Louis doesn’t pay attention. He’s quite too busy looking at Nick’s mouth. Not that he’d ever admit doing so, though. He’d rather behead himself.

They are not speaking so much after that, just small questions and observations from Nick’s part. He is a talker, Louis knows, otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten The Breakfast Show, obviously. Louis just isn’t in a mood for a conversation with him right now. Or ever.

Their food arrives and they eat in silence. Louis’ brochettes are delicious and Nick made a great choice of restaurant. Not that Louis would tell, of course. Maybe it’s not so good after all. The sauce is kind of over salted when he thinks about it. So unprofessional.

“So where are you heading first?” Nick asks after a while before taking another careful sip of his wine. He’s got curry sauce on his chin and Louis can’t help but snicker at him. He’s so dumb.

“South America,” Louis can’t remember all of them, not yet, but it is fine. It’s not like he’s going to miss something, anyway. “Colombia, Peru, Brazil and all that.”

“Interesting,” Ya, right. “And then you’re coming home again? Playing a few shows here, too, I suppose?”

Louis isn’t sure what Nick is trying to accomplish, but decides to ignore it. Maybe Nick is just genuinely curious (who is he kidding, Harry has probably emailed him the tour dates a dozen times already) and is just trying to be polite. Well, isn’t that a thought. “Yeah, we are. Coming back in May again. We’re playing a few shows in Ireland first, though. Croke Park. ” Niall almost cried when he found out they were going to play there, so it must be a big thing or summat. Louis is just a tiny bit proud.

Nick nods and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Fancy.”

They’re quiet again after that, both of them finishing their meals. Louis feels so full he literally doubts if he’ll ever be able to stand up again. Nick is reading on the small drinks menu thing-y standing on the table, and Louis watches. He watches Nick’s long, dark eyelashes and he watches Nick’s tongue as it darts out to wet his lips. He watches Nick’s mouth extra carefully, for no reason, all pink and thin and pretty. Louis must be going mental. It’s the sauce, he is sure.

The waiter comes to collect their empty plates and Nick asks for the bill, as promised. Louis raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it. A promise is a promise, he guesses.

They leave short after that, not saying a word as Nick follows Louis to his car. There is a tension between them so thick Louis can cut it with a knife, and Louis wants it gone. The parking lot isn’t far away from the restaurant, but when Louis stands in front of his car it feels like they have been walking for years. He stops to turn around and say good bye to Nick but is abruptly interrupted by pressure on his lips.

Did Nick just slap him?

Wait, no. That’s not a hand.

That is. Lips. Okay, then.

The kiss is firm but quick and the loss of Nick’s warm, wet lips leaves Louis wanting more. He doesn’t have any time to reflect over it and before he knows, he is throwing his arms around Nick’s neck, pulling him in roughly. They’re in public and it’s a stupid decision, Louis can feel it from his toes, but he keeps kissing Nick. He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until Louis can feel Nick’s tongue on his bottom lip and he’s immediately dragged back into reality. Louis pulls away swiftly and takes a step away from Nick, not meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I. You can’t-. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” Nick clears his throat. “It’s okay if, you like, don’t mention that to Harry.” Louis wants Nick to stop talking. Why does he always have to talk? Can’t he just. Not.

“Shut up. I hate you and, I- maybe. Shut up,” Louis can hear how fragile and pathetic he sounds, and he hates it, but he has already lost all control of the situation. He might as well go on. “Do it again.”

Nick looks at Louis as if he is mad, eyebrows raised and a strange look in his eyes. They’re quite beautiful from the short distance between them, almost yellow on the inner side of his irises. Louis likes them.

Nick snorts at him (bloody snorts) and then he is grinning. “Well, that’s settled then.” He says, and then they’re kissing again.

-

Two months later

Jay lets out a shriek and goes to pull Louis in for a tight hug, only milliseconds after she has opened the door. The band has a few days off before moving on to the Europe leg of the tour, and Louis might have promised Jay to let her meet Nick before he has to leave again. Nick had been surprisingly calm on the ride up, right until Louis pulled of the A1 and he suddenly started worrying about things like his outfit. What he was supposed to talk about. How he was going to act towards the girls. If they should have brought wine with them. Or soda.

They have been going out for about one and a half months, since neither of them had wanted to bring up a second date for weeks. In the end, Harry had noticed a change in Louis’ behaviour, and forced them together. Louis might be a little thankful.

“Oh, my little boy. I’ve missed you so much. How is the tour? The boys? Hurry up, you have to tell me everything,” Jay pulls back and smiles gently at Nick. “And you must be Nick. So nice to finally meet.” She stretches out a hand towards Nick, who takes it and shakes it politely.

“Eh, yes. That would be me.” For being a confident radio personality, Nick seems very out of his element. He lets out a shaky breath, which is probably supposed to be a laugh, and shields himself slightly behind Louis. Louis rolls his eyes.

Jay steps to the side and opens the door even more. “Please, gentlemen. Do come in.” She winks at Louis and he rolls his eyes yet again. He has a strong wish that his mum would stop reading her stupid romantic books, because right now it’s affecting both Louis and Nick. God, this weekend will never end.

Nick gives Louis’ nape a quick peck before pushing him slightly into the house, arms gripping Louis’ waist from behind. It’s familiar and together will the smell of his mum’s chicken coming from the kitchen it makes Louis’ stomach twist with the feeling of home.

Before Louis can register, he is attacked by the twins and almost falls backwards onto the porch. He laughs and crunches down to their level, saying hi and hugging them both. When released, Phoebe peeks around Louis’ shoulder and eyes Nick suspiciously. “What’s your name?” She asks carefully, shy towards new people. Nick answers with a smile as he shakes Phoebe’s hand seriously, making her giggle.

“Are you Louis’ boyfriend?” asks Daisy, who is not as shy as her sister. Which is, well. Nick looks at Louis with wide, distressed eyes. They haven’t talked about labels yet, it’s still far too early into their relationship. But, well, they have been on quite a lot of dates, shagged, made out, fought, stayed over at each other’s places and stuff like that. Relationship-ish stuff.

Louis shrugs and fiddles with Phoebe’s hair instead of looking at him. It doesn’t really matter what Nick says, it’s not like the twins are going to question it. They’re too young for that.

“Yes, I am.” Nick says and yanks slightly at Louis’ t-shirt, making him stand up again. Louis rolls his eyes and takes of his shoes and jacket, walking into the living room with Nick hot on his heels. The twins continue to ask Nick questions, which he answers politely, before Louis shoos them out of the room. When the two of them are alone, Nick flops down on the couch, sighing heavily. “They hate me. They absolutely detest me, I’m sure.”

Louis snorts and sits down next to Nick on the couch. “Yeah, I know. We should probably never speak again,” Louis says casually. Nick holds out his arm towards Louis and he cuddles up against Nick’s neck, bodies fitting perfectly together. “You’re the worst, you know.”

Nick huffs out a laugh and presses a kiss to Louis’ hair. “You too, love.”

Louis sighs. “You’re stupid and I hate you.”

“You too, love.”