The text comes with an irritating ping. Louis blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting against the bright sunlight filling the room. He’s been somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness for the past twenty minutes. He’s got a mild ache in his skull and his mouth feels awfully dry. Letting out a loud groan, he thinks he must’ve dozed off on his couch last night, since his bedroom is always pitch black in the mornings. He cracks his neck and stretches his limbs out.
The phone pings again, reminding him that he’s still got a message to read.
He searches for the phone blindly, eyes still adjusting to the light, and finds it squished between the couch cushions.
The text is from Tomlinson Twat, which is odd in itself.
Don’t even think about touching my cock, Tomlinson. I’m on my way.
His face scrunches up in confusion and he stares at the text for a full thirty seconds, trying to make sense of it. He tosses the phone on the coffee table and sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He feels odd. His head feels fuzzy and he doesn’t feel good.
There’s a half-full wine glass next to the phone, where he’d tossed it. And an empty bottle. The telly screen is on stand-by. It’s probably the hang-over making him feel loopy. But he doesn’t remember having a hangover quite like this before.
It takes him a moment until everything slides into place, suddenly.
He looks around the room and realises he’s not in his own living room. He nearly cracks his neck with the abrupt movements of looking around the room and winces at the sharp pain on the left side of his head. Panic swells up in his chest. Has he been kidnapped and drugged by a crazed fan?
He’s certain he fell asleep in his own home last night, is the thing. He’s pretty sure he didn’t go on a Friday night prowl to pick someone up. Even if he did, it doesn’t explain waking up on a couch. He’s certain he’s got more pull than that. He vaguely recalls being on the phone with Harry and dragging his feet sleepily to his bed. He also remembers that he doesn’t own an iphone. He got himself an android a little over half a year ago.
Dream. It’s probably one of those really bizarrely realistic dreams he sometimes has. He really hopes Liam isn’t going to try to kill him in this one. The last dream where he had, it terrified him enough to give actual real life Liam a painful flick against his forehead. He never really did explain what it was for. He pinches himself and grunts at the pain. It stings.
Or maybe it’s like in Inception. He’s managed to get himself into someone’s brain. Probably Harry’s. Only Harry would be such a neat freak. Maybe Niall. His suitcase is always neatly organized on tour.
He takes a few deep breaths and throws the comforter off himself. He blinks down at his bare legs, only to realise that they are not his either. He pokes at one of the thighs and feels it. So the legs are definitely attached to him. They’re quite nice, the thighs. He looks at his massive hands. The fingers are long and thin, elegant somehow. He flexes them a few times in fascination. He’s got an anchor tattoo at the side of his wrist. A few rings on his fingers and some colorful bracelets around his right wrist.
He’s wearing dark grey Calvin Klein boxers and a white t-shirt. Not his usual choice of bedwear; he prefers sleeping naked.
This has to be the weirdest dream in the history of dreams, ever. He stands up on wobbly feet and roams his hands all over his new body. It feels odd. He’s got a sinking feeling in his gut that he can’t shake. Like something awful is about to happen.
He pulls the band of the underwear away from his belly and checks if he’s still got a cock, just to be sure. He does. A pretty nice one at that. But definitely not his. He’s well acquainted with his own. This one, however, is a stranger to him. It’s half-hard, thick and quite big. A prick Louis wouldn’t mind sucking if he had to pick the owner of it up in a club.
A laugh bubbles up in his chest and he can’t stop it. Before he knows it, he’s laughing hysterically, his eyes welling up. He’s in someone else’s body. Like that is a thing that actually happens.
There’s an odd clicking noise coming from somewhere nearby. He searches for the source of it and lets out a loud squeak when a ball of fur emerges from another room, happily heading towards him. He jumps back on the couch and covers himself with the comforter, as if it will somehow protect him. The intruder in question waggles its tail and blinks up at him expectantly.
Louis definitely does not have a dog. He’d remember getting one. He’s not that irresponsible. He did once get a goldfish and absolutely forgot about it until it died but that was ages ago. He would never get a dog and fail to remember that. Getting a dog is sort of like having a baby. At least that’s what Liam’s mum told him when he got Loki.
The dog barks and Louis startles, pulling the blanket higher to cover himself, only letting his eyes peek out. He’s not used to having a dog in the house. This one seems friendly at least, so he’s not totally worried about being eaten as a feast. Niall once told him that humans taste like chicken when they’re deep fried. He’d read it in an article. Not that the dog possesses skills to fry him in the first place. Probably raw chicken then.
He reaches his hand out hesitantly, and lets the dog nuzzle it happily. The dog’s nose is wet when it touches his fingers and it starts licking his hand. Revolting. But he has to admit that it’s also kind of cute. Sort of like dealing with Harry. He does the weirdest things but he can’t help but feel fond. Harry’s disarming that way.
“Hey, pal. You’re a nice doggy, aren’t you? You’re not going to eat me, are you?” he coos, scratching behind the dog’s ears. His current voice is very different from his usual high tone. Deeper. And familiar somehow. He trails his fingers across his throat. The skin is soft and smooth under his hand. A shudder runs down his spine at the touch.
He also can’t shake the feeling that he’s seen the dog somewhere before. His hand freezes when he remembers that age old instagram video Harry had shown him of himself wearing a massive elephant head and a pup trying to bite it. Pup. Puppy.
Puppy, as in Nick Grimshaw’s dog. He does a double take at the dog and feels his blood freeze.
“Um.” He swallows heavily. “Puppy?”
The dog barks happily and Louis takes that as his confirmation. Now he’s panicking.
“Grimshaw?” he calls out groggily. He scrambles up, wrapping the comforter around his shoulders like a cape and takes a tentative step towards the room he had seen Puppy gallop out from earlier. “Nick?”
He’s met with absolute silence. He’s beginning to think Harry and Nick have orchestrated a prank on him. Why else would he be in a house with Nick Grimshaw’s dog.
Oh god. Oh god, god, god. The realization hits like being completely drenched in ice cold water. He’s in Nick Grimshaw’s body. Nick. Grimshaw’s. Body.
“Grimshaw, I swear to god if this is some kind of a sick joke, I will shave your quiff off, you wanker!" he yells in alarm. "Stop being a twat and come out!” As predicted, no one answers.
Puppy barks at Louis’ yelling. He shushes her.
If he’s in Nick Grimshaw’s body, that probably means Nick has his. He shudders at the thought.
He gazes around the room again. It’s spacious, neat and nicely decorated. The shelves have lots of books and knick knacks on them. He steps closer to a big chest of drawers with pictures on top of it. Sure enough, Grimshaw’s stupid mug is staring back at him, pouting ridiculously in the pictures; alongside Puppy and his friends. ‘The Clique’ as he has dubbed them. It’s embarrassing that he knows quite a bit about Nick’s life. Louis recognises most of the faces. Even Harry is smiling back at him in a couple of photos.
He’s in Nick Grimshaw’s body. He never imagined himself saying that in this kind of context. He’s man enough to admit to himself that he’s imagined fucking Nick, but to actually swap bodies with him never really crossed his mind nor did he believe it to be possible in the first place. It takes him a few moments to gather up enough courage to walk up to the big ornate mirror on the wall, surrounded by different paintings. Definitely not Louis’ taste. He grimaces before he can stop himself.
He approaches it tentatively, as if he would walk up to a cornered animal. After a few deep breaths, he finally steps up and takes a good look at himself. He lets out a yelp and watches, mesmerised, as Nick’s face contorts around his emotions. Nick Grimshaw’s face is staring back at him, looking completely horrified. The dark hair that is usually styled into a high quiff is droopy and messy. It’s all over the place. His eyes look puffy and slightly red. He looks pale. It’s odd, seeing Grimshaw from this perspective.
Nick’s still handsome, even if he’s hungover. It makes Louis a bit envious. It’s another quality to compete with.
He studies himself from every possible angle for what feels like an eternity. He prods and pinches at Nick’s cheeks, stomach and thighs. Checks out his dick again, this time from different angles. He has to admit that Nick’s got good thighs.
He grows bored eventually and waddles into the kitchen to look through the cupboards for some cereal. He can actually reach everything without having to use the help of a chair. It feels delightful.
He’s on his way through a second bowl of coco puffs when there’s a loud knock on the door. He can hear Puppy’s nails clicking against the floor as she runs towards the sound, yipping loudly. Bowl still in hand, he shuffles after her, in the direction of where he assumes the hall is.
Grimshaw’s house is bigger than he would’ve thought.
The knocking gets more incessant by the second. He opens the door and locks eyes with himself.
His face looks distraught. Or he guesses Grimshaw’s face in his body. It’s confusing.
Grimshaw’s mouth is open as if he’s about to say something but he makes a weird choking noise and closes it. He pushes past Louis aggressively without a word. He scoops Puppy up from the floor and hides his face in her tummy. Louis shuts the front door.
Puppy isn’t nearly as enthusiastic as Grimshaw is about being cuddled and fights to be released from the tight embrace. Nick is clearly upset about not being able to hold his dog but lets Puppy out of his hold.
With nothing to hold on to, he finally meets Louis’ eyes. They study each other for a few moments. Louis feels weird, seeing himself from this perspective. He takes in his height and realises how tiny he is. And how curvy. His hair is a chaos, unstyled and his fringe falls messily on his forehead. His eyes are a bit puffy from sleep. He’s unshaven, as he has been for the past week and a half. He looks anxious. Or he supposes Nick does.
“So …” Louis starts awkwardly. “You’re me.”
It feels ridiculous to say out loud. Nick makes a grimace with Louis’ face. He gives a little shrug of his shoulder.
“I’m still half convinced it’s a nightmare,” Nick says petulantly, folding his arms across his chest.
It feels odd to hear the sound of his own voice. It always has. It’s one of his biggest insecurities. He never watches his own interviews or listens to recordings of himself singing if he can help it. But the way Nick uses his voice to speak doesn’t bother him somehow. It makes him feel good about it, at least for now. Nick doesn’t project his insecurity the way Louis usually would. He uses Louis’ voice confidently.
Louis reaches out and pinches Nick’s arm, hard. Just to be a little shit. Nick lets out a high whine and slaps his hand away. “Very much awake, Nicholas.”
“You wanker,” he curses, rubbing the sore spot. “God, of all the people I could’ve switched with, it had to be you.”
Louis shrugs his shoulders, “Could’ve been worse, if we’re being honest here.”
It’s not that Louis hates Nick. It’s never been about that. Sure, they’ve had quite a few semi-public rows and the media seems to think they don’t think fondly of each other. But the truth is, Louis’ never really hated him. He’s always simply felt a mild annoyance when it comes to Nick, probably because of their similarities. According to Harry, at least. That and Louis is very possessive over his friends. The idea of Harry being close to Nick has irritated him since the beginning. Nick’s always been sort of like an annoying itch under his skin that he can’t shake off. He’s always felt torn between wanting to throttle him and shag his brains out.
“We need to find a way to reverse this-” Nick motions his hand carelessly back and forth between them, “-whatever that is. I have to be on the radio on Monday. There’s no way you are taking my place, Tomlinson. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Louis scoffs. “I think I have more reasons to be concerned, Grimshaw. Last time I heard, you are completely tone deaf. So unless you magically gained my ability to sing ..” he raises his eyebrow haughtily, mimicking Nick’s stance by folding his arms and lets Nick fill in the spaces of his train of thought. When it hits him, whatever colour was left on Nick’s face seems to vanish.
“Louis,” he gasps, “I can’t- I can’t perform in front of billions of people and pretend I’m you! I don’t even know all the words to your bloody songs!”
“It’s hardly billions, Grimshaw,” Louis rolls his eyes. He’s calmer than he would have anticipated. This entire situation still feels too surreal for him to take seriously. “Our next concert isn’t before Friday. We’ve got plenty of time to find a solution to this-” he gestures his hand in their general direction “-oddity.”
“For you, maybe. I have a Breakfast show to host on Monday! And unless you’ve forgotten, I will be interviewing One Direction. Ring a bell?”
“Well,” Louis purses his lips thoughtfully. He had forgotten about the Breakfast show interview like he forgets what he has for breakfast sometimes, “I guess we better figure out how to switch back by Sunday night then. We’ve got about 48 hours to do it.”
“Do you think we should tell someone?”
“Let’s wait 24 hours before we say anything to anyone. God forbid someone finds out I’m you. Maybe if we sleep and wake up tomorrow, it’ll have passed, sorta like a flu,” Louis suggests with a shrug. “You can make me a cup of tea in the meantime.”
Nick rolls his eyes but marches into his kitchen. It’s odd for Louis to see himself this comfortable in Nick’s house. He knows it’s not actually him, but it still makes an interesting picture. It brings up an unusual feeling in him. He shrugs it off and plops down on a chair.
“I did touch your cock, by the way,” he says casually, resting his chin on his hands. “Just because you said not to.”
Nick sighs long sufferingly, as if dealing with a particularly difficult toddler. “I’m really not surprised.”
“You’ve got a nice prick,” he continues, as if Nick hadn’t spoken. He perks up suddenly. “Actually, how about you strip off those joggers, I wanna see my cock from an outsider’s point of view.”
“You are a menace, Tomlinson,” Nick says calmly and makes no move to remove the sweatpants. He adds plenty of sugar to his mug. Louis’ face contorts in disgust.
“I can totally see what people mean about my bum, though. It is rather pleasant to look at,” Louis hums happily.
“It is quite squishy and baby-soft,” Nick adds, turning around slightly to give him a smirk. Louis lets out a cry of protest at that. “You can’t blame a man for investigating, Tomlinson. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity after all.”
“Shut up and make me a tea,” he answers bossily instead. There’s a blush high up on his cheeks and a few butterflies fluttering in his tummy. He’s planning on murdering them as soon as possible.
They spend the rest of the day lounging in Nick’s living room watching old reruns of ‘Friends’ on Comedy Channel, playing with Puppy, drinking copious amounts of tea and bickering throughout it all. They can’t seem to agree on anything.
“So let’s say this situation can’t be reversed, what’s the worst case scenario?” Nick asks quietly. They’ve been silent for a long time now, just watching the telly. It’s clear neither one of them have been able to focus much. Louis’ hazy eyes clear and he turns to look at Nick.
“I guess you’ve got to teach me your hipster ways then, Nicholas,” he snorts. Nick sighs impatiently, his nostrils flaring and mouth forming into a thin line. He should’ve expected not getting a clear answer out of Tomlinson.
“I guess this is my cue for bed,” He stirs, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn.
“No wanking off in my body, Grimshaw. I mean it,” Louis warns, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Nick stares at his own face for a long second, just taking in his features. He’s not bad-looking. It’s bizarre, seeing his own face look back at himself, something he doesn’t think he could get used to. It still freaks him out a bit. Kind of like looking at cats without fur. He’s always sort of curious but too revolted to actually pet one. He stands up slowly and can’t hold back the mischievous smile spreading on his lips.
“Too late for that,” he winks and ducks out of the way of a flying couch cushion, galloping to his bedroom with a roar of laughter.
“Arse!” Louis calls after him and Nick can hear the quiet huff he makes as he leans back against the sofa.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it,” Nick beams gleefully, turning to present Louis’ bum and gives it a light smack. Louis levels him with a glare. “The bed stuff is in the hall closet. Sleep well, pumpkin!”
He shuts his bedroom door and leans against it for a second, breathing out a long sigh. His bed’s a mess, just as he left it last night. Puppy has already positioned herself on the right side of the bed, gloriously taking up most of the space for such a small dog. He knows his face is doing the fond thing it sometimes does. He wonders what it looks like on Louis’ face.
He thinks about not brushing Louis’ teeth, just to be a pest. But he reconsiders it, since it’s another chance to look at Tomlinson naked in his bathroom mirror.
Louis opens his eyes slowly, much to the same scene as the previous day, this time without a hangover, thankfully. He stretches out his limbs and takes a peek at his hands, only to find that he still has Grimshaw’s massive paws. He sighs dejectedly. So sleep has not changed anything.
He knows he should be more alarmed than he currently feels but he can’t be bothered, quite frankly. He gets up and makes himself a cup of tea, making as much noise as possible.
Sure enough, less than five minutes later Grimshaw stumbles into the kitchen, looking harassed and glares at Louis. Louis grins back innocently. “Sleep well, love?”
Nick grunts and starts shuffling through his cupboards, only to discover he can’t reach the higher ones, even when he stands on the tips of his toes. Louis bites his lip to hold back laughter, even though he knows he’s usually the one in this kind of conundrum. It feels good to have one up on Grimshaw.
“Need some help, Nicholas?” he asks gleefully. He reaches over him and their shoulders brush against each other, sending a shiver down Louis’ spine. He suffocates the giddy feeling that starts to rise in his stomach, but his tummy still does an excited flip anyway. He grabs the box of weetabix and positions it on the counter in front of Nick. Grimshaw looks like he’s just been burnt. His mouth is hanging open slightly and his eyes look wild, staring at the box like it has personally offended him.
Louis turns his back to him, busying himself with his own cup of tea. “So, sleeping clearly didn’t work,” he mumbles, taking a huge sip, just to have something to do with his hands. He feels weirdly nervous.
Grimshaw seems to regroup himself and starts preparing his breakfast. “Right.”
“Do you think we should tell someone, in case this doesn’t change by Monday?” Louis suggests, still avoiding eye contact with Nick.
“I already texted Haz. He said he’ll be over in twenty minutes,” Nick shrugs, sitting down at the table.
“Does he know?”
“I just said it’s an emergency,” Nick responds, finally locking eyes with Louis again. There’s a weird charge in the air. He can feel it throbbing in his veins. He’s always been kind of on edge around Nick, but this, somehow, feels more. “Didn’t quite know how to explain. Figured it’s easier just to show him.”
No more than five minutes later the doorbell rings and Nick and Louis exchange looks. “You should open the door, so we don’t freak him out right away,” Nick explains quickly, indicating towards the hall with his head.
Louis sighs in annoyance but stands up. He feels anxious again. What if Harry doesn’t believe them? He knows he wouldn’t, if Harry and Nick exchanged bodies. It’d take a lot to actually convince him.
He trots down the hall and pulls the door open. “Sup, Nick,” Harry greets merrily and wraps him in a bone-crushing hug. “You okay? Did you mess up the settings on your washing machine again?”
Louis lets himself be hugged. He feels a sense of familiarity and comfort in Harry’s embrace. His hands come up and he holds on, longer than he usually would.
“Nick, hey,” Harry inquires softly, pulling back so he can look at Louis’ face. “What happened?”
He opens his mouth to explain when Harry’s eyes focus on something behind him and his mouth drops open, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Lou? What are you doing here?”
“Hey Haz,” Nick greets him with a soft smile. “Maybe you should come to the kitchen and sit down. We need to tell you something.”
The look of disbelief on Harry’s face is comical. Louis snorts quietly. Nick makes Harry a strong cup of tea and Louis asks him to sit down.
They explain the situation to him under Harry’s intense laser eyes, which focus on them both. It’s always felt really revealing to have Harry stare at him like that. He can never stop squirming when he looks at Louis like that. Harry listens patiently, alternating between staring at them both for long amounts of time.
“Um, so … yeah,” Louis says awkwardly, picking at his fingernails, to conclude their little presentation.
Harry reacts better than they expect. A slow smile makes its way onto his face and his eyes twinkle in amusement. Louis feels like he’s missed out on something important. He sneaks a peek at Nick, who looks much the same. Harry bursts out laughing and they both jump at the sudden loud sound in the otherwise silent house. Harry slaps his knee and his eyes squint into little slits.
“This is the best thing ever,” Harry cackles. “You two, oh god-”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up you lousy giraffe,” Louis retorts, wrapping his hands around himself protectively. His face heats up.
“Oh god, Lou,” Harry cries happily, “the thing we talked about! And now this!” He slaps his knee twice more and shakes his head as he grins widely.
Louis’ eyes widen in horror. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He covers Harry’s huge mouth with Nick’s massive hand and Harry laughs harder at that, the sound muffled behind the palm.
“Talked about what?” Nick inquires curiously, pouting at being left out of their conversation.
“Nothing,” Louis says with a tone of finality. Nick looks at him inquisitively but doesn’t comment.
It takes a while for Harry to calm down enough to start looking at their dilemma more rationally but he still has bursts of laughter every now and then and profusely apologizes while trying to silence his chuckles. Louis glares at him every single time.
The best they come up with is Nick giving Louis a crash course in hosting the Breakfast show and Louis suggesting Nick comment as little as possible during the interview. Harry helps out as best as he can, mostly by filling Nick in on One Direction trivia, to make sure fans don’t notice that something’s off. By the end of Sunday night, both of them fall into bed in exhaustion.
They don’t comment on the fact that they’re sleeping in the same bed.
The alarm starts blaring at five in the morning and Louis grunts, hitting snooze immediately. He barely gets to doze off again when Nick whips him with a pillow. “Get the fuck up, Tomlinson. If you ruin my career, I will never forgive you.”
Louis squints his eyes open and glares at Nick. He’s not really a fan of early mornings. “I think I can live with that.”
“Don’t forget I am wearing your arse like a coat right now, Tomlinson. You’re not the only one with the power. Get dressed,” Nick commands curtly. He looks exhausted, like he’s been tossing and turning the entire night. Louis considers punching him for a second, just for being so annoying but remembers that he’d technically be hitting himself. He lies back down and blinks at the ceiling, willing himself to wake up properly.
Nick gets out of bed before him and disappears into the bathroom but not before Louis catches a glimpse of his hands shaking. He frowns.
He stares down at his morning wood and considers having a quick wank but opts for a shower instead. He hops out of bed and strolls in on Nick standing under the spray, the water pouring down his face. He’s not even washing himself. Louis drops his joggers and gets in, only to hear Nick’s loud protest.
“It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked,” he shrugs and reaches for the shampoo. His heart is threatening to break out of his chest.
Nick is still gaping at him like he’s sprouted a second head. He starts washing himself reluctantly, his eyes staying on Louis’ face.
They shower mostly in silence, just observing each other. It should probably be the weirdest thing in the world but it doesn’t feel that way. It almost feels . . . nice.
Nick finally shakes himself out of the odd bubble they’re both in and steps out of the shower, drenching the floor in water droplets. He grabs a towel and dries himself hastily, disappearing out of the bathroom like he’s dodging being stung by a bee. Louis blinks after him in confusion.
He gets out of the shower and gets ready quickly. Both of them avoid eye contact. Nick lets him know the driver will be waiting for them in five minutes. He’s curt and only talks when it’s absolutely necessary. It pisses Louis off. Nick takes Puppy for a quick wee around the block. Louis really hopes nobody snaps a picture of him walking Nick Grimshaw’s dog, since they’ve switched bodies. He doesn’t know how he’d explain that one. Nick comes back pink-cheeked and with his hair tousled. Louis can’t keep his eyes off him. Even in Louis’ body, it’s so clearly Nick that he’s seeing. It’s bizarre, having a glimpse into his life like this. Being almost domestic with Nicholas Grimshaw. He never expected his life to turn out quite like this.
Nick is unusually quiet and hard to read. It frustrates Louis immensely. He wants to provoke a reaction out of him and the urge to do it gets stronger by the minute. He hates being ignored. He feels like a child who’s disappointed their parent. He hates it.
By the time they get to the car, Harry is in the back seat, waiting for them. He’s happily chatting with the driver, offering him one of his twix bars.
“Lou! Nick!” He bellows happily, his voice always sleep rough and deeper in the mornings. “Fincham has been filled in. He’ll help you the best he can, Lou.”
Louis gives a quick nod and sits on one side of Harry, while Nick takes the place on the other side of him, both of them sulking. Harry looks between them in confusion for a moment and then shrugs, biting into his chocolate and munching without a care in the world.
When Louis spots the BBC building out of the car window, his heart starts beating erratically. He’s going to have to talk for 4 hours and pretend to be someone else while doing it. He’s going to have to interview his own band and someone who is pretending to be him. He might need a moment or two to catch his breath. Or maybe throw up.
There are a few fans in front of the building, waiting to snatch a photo with Nick. Louis feels like a fraud, posing next to them. He feels like that most days of his life by being in the closet anyway. Pretending to be someone he’s not. The fans are delighted about getting pictures with all three of them. Harry, as always, goes out of his way to make people feel special. Nick is also really nice, helping one of the girls snap a picture when she can’t quite manage to take a selfie of them together.
“Can I take one with you two together?” one of the girls asks, pointing to Nick and Louis. They exchange a look, Nick’s eyes finally locking on his. The moment feels frozen. Then Nick smiles and says ‘sure’ and the girl squishes herself between them while Louis snaps the photo.
They get into the building easily. People send them some curious looks, probably because it doesn’t happen often that Louis Tomlinson and Nick Grimshaw are seen in the vicinity of each other but Harry trudges forward nonchalantly so they follow him.
Fincham stares at them both for a long moment and then pulls Louis aside, quickly running them over all the important bits. Louis is already feeling overwhelmed. Harry and Nick sit in the lounge area. Nick looks like he’s swallowed something sour. It makes Louis squirm with irritation. He’s not completely useless, really. He hasn’t done anything to deserve Nick’s attitude. He’s been really nice these past few days, considering how he’d usually be with Grimshaw.
They decide not to switch the cameras on for the day and Fincham promises to help him out as much as possible. They also decide to include Harry in today’s show so Louis’ not all on his own and if he does mess up, Harry can easily distract people.
It starts out well, is the thing. Nick keeps staring at him from the sofa and it makes Louis really uncomfortable, but all in all, he thinks he’s doing a pretty decent job. They’re chatty and put on good music. There are no awkward silences and if it seems to be heading towards it, Fincham immediately fills it. Harry makes him relax and gives him reassuring squeezes every once in a while. Louis is actually enjoying himself. He’s really hoping he can pull the show off as Grimshaw. He makes a lot of self-deprecating jokes about himself as Nick.
Nick, clearly, is not happy.
Louis doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does, but he utters the words ‘Everybody knows what an utter knobhead I am. Pretty shit at radio, so nothing new here, really” as a response to a comment a listener had sent in. His previous jokes had been pretty mild. The way Nick’s face falls makes his heart lurch painfully and he wishes he could take the words back right away. There’s radio silence for two seconds while Harry pinches him hard, making him yelp and then laughs awkwardly, telling him to not be so hard on himself. The moment is saved, but all of them know it was a close call. Harry starts sharing a story about an adventure he had experienced on tour and Louis zones out, not in the mood to give Harry shit for it, turning to look at Nick instead.
Louis imagines being shit at radio might be one of Nick’s biggest insecurities, considering the amount of listeners he lost when he took over BBC. He feels like shit, worse than before.
Nick’s face has morphed into a determined sort of anger. He glares at Louis, his eyes dark and mouth twisted into a sneer. Louis feels his dick twitch in interest and swallows noisily. He goes to flick his fringe nervously only to discover it’s not there, since it’s styled into Grimshaw’s signature quiff.
He focuses back on Harry’s story and does his best to ignore Nick’s stare.
Nick is absolutely fuming. As soon as Louis does something cute, he has to counteract it by being a massive brat. Nick’s been unable to relax at all, even though Louis’ been doing a fairly good job of hosting his radio show. But there’s a nagging feeling that something could still go wrong and he has to be on guard. He also doesn’t appreciate being made into a laughing stock by the miniature demon who is currently possessing his body. He doesn’t mind cracking jokes about himself but it makes his blood boil when Louis does it. It feels like rubbing salt to a wound.
When he starts insulting himself on air, Nick barely holds himself back. He wants to throttle Tomlinson. Louis might have found fame on a telly show but Nick’s worked his arse off to be where he is. It’s not a joke to him.
Niall, Liam and Zayn come to the studio soon after. Zayn smirks when he sees him, taking a seat next to him on the couch and wrapping his arms around him. Nick tenses up. Clearly Louis hasn’t told his other bandmates about their little body swap.
“Excited about being interviewed by your favorite radio host, bro?” Zayn grins dopily. Nick gives him a curious glance. “Can’t wait to hear you two sniping at each other. Keep a firm grip at the base so you don’t explode during the interview.”
Niall plops down on Nick’s lap before he has time to respond and he lets out a loud ‘oof’.
“Lads, getting a bit rowdy in the studio, are we?” Louis asks, giving Nick a pointed look. Zayn’s eyes twinkle when he looks at him and then looks at Louis meaningfully. “The other half of One Direction has just arrived and are getting ready to be interviewed by me, sir Nicholas Knobhead Grimshaw.”
Louis raises his eyebrow haughtily. Zayn and Niall look at him like he’s being particularly stupid but decide to shrug it off. Nick fumes silently.
Liam finally trudges in, giving Nick’s arm a quick squeeze. They all sit closer to the mics and wait for Louis to introduce them.
“We have the One Direction boys in the studio today. Hazza’s been already filling us in with his long-winded stories, thanks man. We now have Liam, Zayn, Niall and the ever gorgeous Louis Tomlinson with us. Welcome, pals!”
“I’d rather disagree with you, Lo- Grimshaw. I think you meant to say a bratty popstar. That does sound more like me,” Nick retorts and his cheeks flush under the scrutiny from the other boys. Zayn’s hand wraps around his wrist. It’s probably a gesture that’s supposed to ground him, his and Louis’ thing they do, but it doesn’t work on him. He feels stupid, having stooped down to Louis’ level of immaturity.
“Right,” Louis says flatly. “Fascinating.” He ignores Nick for the rest of the show, aiming all of his questions to the other boys. He goes as far as starting each question with the name of the person he wants an answer from, just so he doesn’t give Nick a chance to say anything.
By the time the day has finished, Nick is dragging Louis out of the studio and into the car. He doesn’t even protest, just goes along easily. Harry stays behind to fill the other boys in.
They ride back to Nick’s flat in silence, both of them sitting on one side of the backseat, staring out of the window.
Nick unlocks his front door quietly and Louis follows him in.
As soon as the door closes, Nick turns around and lets out a frustrated sound. “You are a horrible little cuntbucket, Tomlinson. God, what a brat you are. I can’t believe what a joke you made out of me today.”
Louis snorts evilly. “You started it. Besides, you always make fun of yourself. I was just filling in your shoes.”
Nick scoffs, “Please, you’re a petulant child who clearly does not understand how to be a professional. You were embarrassing me.”
Louis’ eyes narrow angrily and he raises onto his tippy toes out of habit, forgetting that he’s already taller than Nick since he’s inhabiting his body. “Clearly you’re not much better than me, Nicholas. I didn’t see you take the highroad. You’re thirty and you still act like a fucking toddler. No wonder you like hanging around Harry so much.”
Nick sneers, making Louis’ face twist awfully and launches himself at him then. He grabs Louis and pulls him in by the front of his t-shirt, sees Louis’ eyes widen in surprise, and hauls him into a violent kiss. There’s more teeth than actual kissing.
Louis pulls back after a couple of moments and gasps for a breath, “What the hell are you-”
Nick pulls him in again and actually kisses him this time, taking his sweet time with it. It feels odd to essentially be kissing himself as well as Nick. His hands slide up Nick’s arms and into his hair, pulling him in even more. He melts into it.
They snog for a long time against the wall in Nick’s hallway, neither of them bothering to move anywhere. He can hear the muted sound of Puppy scratching and whining behind a door somewhere in the flat. Nick finally pulls away. He looks calmer but still mildly irritated. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”
Louis smirks, “Kiss yourself?”
“Cheeky,” he chuckles. “That too, yes.”
“Such a narcissist,” Louis says fondly, leaning in to peck him on the lips. He can’t help himself. It’s disgusting, really.
“Can I blow you?” Nick asks, stepping even closer to him. He reaches his hand down and cups Louis’ dick, giving it a light squeeze. “I’d rather like to see what it’s like to give myself a blowjob, if you don’t mind.”
Louis snorts. “You are a ridiculous human, Grimshaw.”
“Was that a no?”
“Did you hear me say no? Get to work,” he says, pushing Grimshaw’s head down. Nick rolls his eyes but drops to his knees unceremoniously.
He pulls down the zipper of Louis’ jeans and leans in but doesn’t do anything. Just breathes on his dick. Louis grabs Nick’s hair in his fist and yanks, “No time like the present, Nicholas. Chop, chop.”
“God you’re annoying,” he sighs but pulls Louis’ boxers down. He looks at his own dick from an outsider’s perspective and it’s the most surreal thing in the existence. He leans in and smells himself first and then lets out a puff of air. Louis shudders at the warm air on his prick.
“God, will you stop teasing you horrible-” his words die in his throat when Nick finally takes his cock in his mouth and he lets his head fall against the wall with a thud, a loud moan escaping his lips.
Nick hums with his dick in his mouth and takes him in even deeper. He puts everything into it, wanting to make it really good. It doesn’t take long before Louis’ a shuddering mess and comes down Nick’s throat with a little shout, scrunching Nick’s hair in his hands.
It takes him a moment to regroup before he slurs, “Solid effort. I’d say a two out of five.”
Nick slaps his thigh in retaliation. “You’re horrible, always so horrible.” He rests his head on Louis’ thigh for a moment and tries to make sense of what just happened. Louis brushes his fringe out of his eyes. Louis must admit, his hair is really very soft. Definitely better than Grimshaw’s.
“Yet you still like me,” he beams.
“I regret that every day,” he murmurs and lets out a yawn. “You’re welcome to put your bratty little mouth to a good use now, Tomlinson.”
Louis rolls his eyes and pushes Nick back by his shoulders. His prick is clearly tenting in his trousers. He keeps nudging him until Nick gets the idea and lies back on the floor. Louis gets rid of his jeans and boxers quickly and kisses his mouth for a while, his hands lightly stroking his thighs. He brushes past his dick but never gives quite the satisfaction of actually properly touching him. Nick whines loudly.
“You’re teasing,” he grunts.
“Beg me,” he smirks, biting lightly on Nick’s bottom lip. He nips at his jaw and traces his tongue over the bites to soothe it.
“Are you always this evil in bed?” Nick huffs. “I’ll finish myself off, then.”
Louis takes his wrists and holds them over his head. He feels gleeful at being physically stronger than Nick in his body. “Beg me, Nicholas, come on now. Be a good boy.”
Nick’s hips twitch at that. A mumbled ‘please’ escapes his lips. Louis grinds his hips down, their cocks sliding together. Nick closes his eyes and moans, exposing his neck by pushing his head back.
“I think you can do better, Nick. Come on, ask me nicely. Show me what a polite boy you are,” Louis grins devilishly, leaning down to nip at Nick’s jaw line and earlobe. He raises his hips and Nick tries to chase it, never quite reaching the friction he desires.
“Please, Louis, fuck,” Nick whines, “please.”
“Such a nice boy,” Louis praises, pecking Nick’s lips once and shuffles down his body, taking his cock in his mouth. It’s a whole other way of getting to know his own cock. Seeing it from all angles and actually sucking it. It makes his cock give a light twitch.
It’s less than two minutes before Nick comes, his face scrunching up in his pleasure. “C’mere.” He makes grabby hands towards Louis. He crawls up Nick’s body and leans all his bodyweight down on him, making Nick grunt in displeasure. Louis kisses him again.
“I fancy you,” Nick mumbles, his eyelids slowly drooping. “If I didn’t make it clear enough. I kinda wanna strangle you most of the time but I quite fancy you also. Ever since we met, really.”
“Your flirting technique has been atrocious, Nicholas. So middle school, really,” Louis mocks, tracing his thumbs over Nick’s cheeks, thinking of all the mentions he’s gotten on Nick’s shows and their public bickering in the media.
“Shut up, you pest,” he grunts. “I don’t know why I like you in the first place. You’re quite horrible, actually.”
“I guess we’re more alike than you think then,” Louis smiles, “but yeah. I’ve fancied you for ages, too. All the boys tease me about it.”
Zayn’s and Harry’s reactions suddenly make sense to Nick and he returns the smile. “Fancy a shower and a kip?”
“I’d quite like a nap more, honestly.”
“Dirty boy,” Nick says, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust.
“Come to think of it, maybe I’m actually attracted to myself and not you at all,” Louis muses, wiggling his eyebrows and checking his own body out. Nick pinches his side and makes him cry out in protest.
“I’m taking you to bed now, you menace, c’mon,” He pushes Louis off him and they both stand up. Nick grabs his hand and pulls him towards his bedroom.
They decide to shower in the morning and cuddle in bed instead. Nick insists on spooning. It’s the best night’s sleep Louis’ had in ages.
Louis opens his eyes and squints against the bright sunlight. Nick’s hair is tickling him and he brushes it out of the way. He lets out a soft grunt at waking up this early.
He shuffles around on the bed so he can properly look at Nick. He takes in Nick’s messy dark hair and the long line of his body.
He reaches down to his own bum and squeezes it, letting out a sigh of relief. Hands roaming over his skin, he gives himself a quick hug, happy to be back to normal. The last couple of days have felt a bit like a bizarre dream. It feels good to be awake again, in his own skin.
Turning his gaze back to Nick’s face, he smiles contentedly and grabs Nick’s hand, placing it around his waist, snuggling closer to him.
He’s excited to properly shag Nick, now that he’s back in his own body. Also, he makes a mental note to investigate further into this body swapping business, once his brain is able to form more coherent thoughts. He’s sure they can figure out all the other important details as time goes by. He dozes off with a soft grin on his face.