Chapter Text
For as much as Louis wears suits, he absolutely despises them. They’re always too hot, too constricting, and feel like they’re not his size despite being tailored to perfection.. Liam always says they’re just the right amount of tightness and then pinches his bum. Louis just thinks Liam needs to learn boundaries.
But right now, he’s grimacing through it, fake smile plastered on his face and never letting his wine glass go more than half empty. It’s the only way to get through the night.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.”
The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair.
“You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.”
“If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass. Louis knows for a fact that he doesn’t even like wine, and gains some satisfaction from knowing that he’s not enjoying it.
“I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.”
“You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.”
Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead. A camera flashes in their direction. “We’ll need to destroy that memory card later. Don’t let me forget.”
“Oh, suddenly it’s ‘we’ need to do something?” Harry’s teasing him, taking another sip of his wine and just barely concealing a grimace. “I thought you preferred to work solo.”
“Fine, I’ll destroy the drive,” Louis huffs. He flags down another server, gesturing at his half-empty glass.
“How do you drink so much and manage to stay so sharp while working?” Harry asks, instead of leaving like Louis wishes he would. “Isn’t it unprofessional to drink while on the job?”
“I’m not a messy drunk like you.” To really make his point, Louis takes another sip from his glass. “Some of us can handle our alcohol.”
“Maybe that isn’t as much of a bragging point as you wish it was.”
Instead of retorting with something smart, Louis just scrunches his face in a mocking sort of way and turns. Unlike some people in the room, he has a job to do and he refuses to be distracted. He surveys the room and spots the target. As if he can read Louis’ mind, Liam’s voice sparks up in his ear.
“Lou?” he asks, making sure he has Louis’ attention. “Are you feeling sharp?”
“Of course,” Louis answers, hiding himself behind another sip from his wine glass, finishing it off. He feels more than hears Harry shifting from foot to foot behind him, waiting for his own orders.
Liam reviews the information one last time, giving Louis the go ahead and the inspiration to complete the mission. It’s easier to steal money from rich people when it’s confirmed that they’re really bad rich people.
“Ready, Tommo?” Harry whispers in his ear from behind, breath tickling the hairs falling over his ear. “Just say the word.”
“Why does working a mission with you always feel like foreplay?”
“Because it is.”
Louis can imagine his cheeky smirk without even turning around. He heaves a sigh and prepares himself.
“The woman, Veronica, is all yours,” Louis says. “Remember that.”
“Sure thing, boss. See you after.”
Louis just barely sees him turning and heading for the other side of the room from the corner of his eye. He takes a second to compose himself - always thrown off by Harry’s presence - and takes the steps for his own target.
He strides towards the most powerful group in the room. If it were up to Louis, every single one of them would lose every penny they owned tonight. They’ve each got rap sheets a mile long, all horrible in different ways. Unfortunately, tonight he has eyes only for Lucas Reynolds, billionaire funneling millions of dollars into human trafficking. At the same time that Louis catches Reynolds’ eye as he approaches, there’s a team reaching one of his many vacation homes and hopefully rescuing all of his victims.
Reynolds mumbles something to the other men standing near him. Louis assumes he’s excusing himself, and is proven correct when the man approaches him.
“I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?” Reynolds says, reaching for Louis’ free hand and kissing the back of it. Louis tries not to visibly shiver in disgust. “I think I would remember a pretty face like yours. I’m Lucas”
“No we haven’t, but I think we could have a memorable night,” Louis responds. He omits offering up his own name, and if Reynolds notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he chuckles, a vile sound sure to haunt Louis’ next few nightmares.
“How forward.” Reynolds finishes off his wine glass, droplets still wetting his lips as he speaks again. “It’s strange that I’ve never seen you before. This is my event, you know.”
“I had no idea,” Louis feigns ignorance. “I thought it was Mrs. Reynolds’ event?”
“She’s a co-sponsor.” The untrained eye might have missed the way Reynolds’ lip curls slightly at the mention of his wife.
“Well, give my appreciation to her. The event is lovely,” he says.
“So you’re having a good time?”
Louis nods, keeping his smile soft. “I love coming to things like this. Free alcohol and plenty of people to keep me company.”
“Looking for specific company tonight?” There’s something in Reynolds’ expression that has Louis fighting back a shiver of disgust, disguising it by reaching out and taking a hold of his forearm.
“I think I’ve found it, actually,” he says, and it sounds warm, even to his own ears, holding none of the repulsion that he feels. “Do you have a room?”
Reynolds gestures with his free arm to the wide doors to the room, and Louis knows there’s a pair of elevators just outside that he’s probably anxious to get them to. “I do, actually. The penthouse, if you can believe it. Shall we head up?”
Louis smiles brightly and tries to keep himself from throwing up in his mouth. “I would love nothing more.”
Kissing Reynolds is like kissing a dead fish, too wet and cold and leaves Louis feeling like he needs a seven hour long shower. Reynolds' suite is larger than Louis’ apartment, and he tries not to give away how much that pisses him off as he pushes Reynolds down onto the couch.
Louis climbs on top of him, straddling him and avoiding his lips. He avoids kissing his targets as much as possible - always feels so dirty when he does.
“Eager much?” Reynolds laughs, hands coming up to rest on Louis’ waist. Louis tries not to push them away.
“Can’t help it,” Louis mumbles, leaning his head back to hide his eye roll at the ceiling. He looks back down, smirking the best he can when all he wants to do is recoil in disgust. “Do you like to be tied up?”
“What?” Reynolds pauses at this, hands frozen in their path along Louis’ back.
“Because I think you’d look so good tied up while I ride you,” he continues. “I have the prettiest scarf that I think would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”
Louis watches the way his throat moves as he swallows, consideration bright in his eyes.
“Yeah, okay,” he finally says. “Yeah.”
Louis leads them to the bedroom, pushing Reynolds down onto the bed. He instructs the man to leave his clothes on, as is part of his normal routine when he’s doing this, pulling the scarf out from his pocket.
He ties it tightly, ignoring the way Reynolds’ face winces when he tugs just a little too hard.
“These are a little restricting, sweetheart.”
Louis feels bile in his throat at the nickname. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
Reynolds stays quiet as Louis secures the scarf and sits back, admiring his work.
Reynolds doesn’t stay quiet when Louis starts walking around the room, admiring the artwork on the walls and the expensive furniture he’ll never be able to afford.
“What are you doing?” he asks, trying his best to sit up. The best he can do is tilt his head up and follow Louis with his eyes.
“Being nosy.”
He’s looking for nothing in particular, just using the last few seconds before the rest of the team arrives. His job is sometimes the easiest of all of them - get the target incapacitated in any sense, keep an eye on them, and wait until the rest of the team arrives to place him under arrest. It’s crucial to remove the target from the public eye, however, as not to alert any of his friends of what’s happened to him.
Confidentiality is key in this field.
Louis decides there’s nothing of import laying around anywhere, and takes a seat at the desk. Louis’ no expert in wood, but it appears fancy enough, matching the rest of the furniture in the room. He drums his fingers across the desktop, waiting patiently for Zayn to show up.
“Done looking for dirty laundry?” Reynolds asks, resigned to his fate as he stares straight at the ceiling. Sometimes the targets struggle against the restraint, but Reynolds seems to understand that he’s done for.
“Yeah,” Louis sighs. “Now I’m just waiting for them to be done arresting your wife so they can come and get you. It’s not as fun when there isn’t an audience to watch you get taken down, but.” He shrugs in a ‘what can you say’ kind of way. “But we wouldn’t want your friends downstairs to know we were on to them.”
“Hmm,” Reynolds hums. He doesn’t have much else to say, and that’s fine by Louis. He has no urge to sit around and listen to Reynolds’ excuses. There’s no excuse for the crimes he’s committed, in Louis’ books.
Thankfully, the team he works with feels the same way. For the past four years, they’ve gone undercover and dismantled plenty of shady operations, and saved thousands of victims. Of course, what Louis and his team do isn’t necessarily legal, but it’s not immoral. His team will bring Reynolds back to headquarters, rough him up a little, and then hand him over to the FBI.
As if summoned by Louis’ thoughts, Zayn comes bursting through the door, ever the dramatic one. He could have just swiped the master keycard they’d had Liam make.
“Reynolds!” Zayn cries, as if seeing an old friend. “Ready to go?”
Reynolds doesn’t even try to lift his head to see who’s talking to him. “Not really. I’m not too sure I want to go where you want to take me.”
“You definitely don’t,” Zayn replies, still just as cheery. He gives the signal for the team to make the arrest, standing back and watching it unfold with a half-smile on his face. He wanders over to where Louis’ still sitting, too casual for the scene unfolding around them. “Never gets old, does it?”
“It maybe gets a little old,” Louis says. “Like it’d be super cool if we didn’t have to do this.”
Zayn shrugs. “Well obviously that’s the ideal situation. But at least we can steal his money and give it to good causes instead.”
“Right.” Louis snorts. “Like a proper Robin Hood. How noble.”
“Robin Hood was noble,” Zayn defends. “Harry seemed to have a bit more trouble than you did.”
“I knew Veronica was going to be scrappy - that’s why I passed her off,” Louis says. “Harry likes the challenge.”
“Well, he’s going to need you to kiss his wounds tonight,” Zayn says. “I think his ego’s feeling it a bit.”
Louis does his best to look offended and disgusted, but isn’t sure he’s convincing either one of them. “Not sure why you’re telling me this. He can have whoever kiss his wounds. He’s practically got a fanclub.”
“Lewis and Shawn may be the presidents of the Harry Styles fanclub,” Zayn agrees, “but he’s not sleeping with them.”
“He could be. I’m not stopping him.” Louis notices the room has all but emptied out, save for a few members of the team collecting evidence. “Do you think Harry Styles is his real name?”
Zayn bites the inside of his lip as he thinks. “Is Louis Tomlinson yours?”
Louis decides it’s his cue to leave.
“That’s one secret I’ll never tell.” He turns and heads for the door, sparing one second to turn around and wink at Zayn, who’s stuck staying back to watch over the cleanup of the scene.
Of course Louis Tomlinson is his real name, but he likes to leave everyone guessing. The more confusion, the better. He likes the chaos.
Louis can’t believe he’s knocking on Harry Styles’ door again .
He cusses quietly under his breath before the door swings open and reveals Styles’ smug face, beaming brightly as his dimples set deep in his cheeks.
Harry’s mouth twists as he tries to get his smile under control. “You have ‘no idea’ how you keep ending up in bed with me?”
“Who said I’m here to sleep with you?” Louis rolls his eyes and does his best attempt of a scowl as he pushes into the familiar apartment. He wishes he didn’t have an assigned spot on the mat next to the door to keep his shoes. He wishes there wasn’t an extra coat hook just for him. He wishes he didn’t know his way past the kitchen, down the hall, and into the master bedroom.
“Right,” Harry drawls from behind him, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He hasn’t even bothered to put a shirt on, grey sweatpants riding low on his hips. Louis also wishes he didn’t have a habit of leaving dark bruises on those same hips. “So you don’t want to sleep with me, but you’re sitting at the edge of my bed. When are you going to stop this charade?”
Louis divests himself of his own shirt, laying back into the soft sheets. He remembers when Harry made the switch from cotton to silk. He feels luxurious when laying in them, and it’s just a reminder to buy a set for himself.
“Not a charade,” Louis whispers, watching as Harry strides towards the bed. He climbs from the bottom up, until he’s on his knees, between Louis’ legs, and nose to nose with him.
“So you’re not mad that I had to sleep with Veronica?” he asks, trailing his pointer finger across Louis’ collarbones. “That doesn’t upset you?”
“Doesn’t upset me as long as you had a good time,” Louis says. He bites the inside of his cheeks and pretends his skin isn’t warming up at the idea. He’s not jealous.
“What if I liked it more than sleeping with you?”
“Maybe you should sleep with her again.”
Harry snorts, falling on to one of his elbows while he continues tracing with his finger. “Maybe if it were possible, I would.”
As far as Louis knows, neither of them have ever actually had to sleep with a target, but pretending like they have makes this whole ‘enemies with benefits’ thing that much more exciting. If asked, he would say he only goes along with it for Harry’s sake, but they both know the truth.
“Don’t make me beg for it, Styles,” Louis says, voice all but a whisper. The words hang between them, and Louis feels like he could cut the tension in the air with a knife. He doesn’t know how it always feels like this, time and time again, even after doing it for so many years (longer than Louis would like to admit).
Harry’s mouth quirks in a lopsided smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but Louis gets the hint.
“Please,” he breathes out, and that’s all it takes before Harry is sliding down the bed and stopping until he’s face to face with Louis’ dick, covered by jeans and boxers still. He mouths along the bare skin of Louis’ hips, making quick work of the buttons and shimmying the denim down his legs. Louis’ boxers are next, leaving him exposed to the cool air.
Harry easily takes Louis into his mouth, using his hands on Louis’ hips to keep him pressed into the bed.
For as much as he hates Harry, Louis loves his mouth. Louis would probably agree to do anything Harry asked of him as long as he agreed to use his lips against Louis forever.
He takes his time, obviously in no hurry even as Louis attempts to push into his mouth, body on fire. Harry does everything slow, and this is no exception, twirling his tongue around the head and taking it all the way back in. Louis can feel how warm and wet it all is, and he’s not sure how much more of it he can take before he tells Harry to just get on with it .
Harry must sense his impatience, though, because he pulls off. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, breaking out into a wide smile.
“Not sure what you’re grinning about, asshole,” Louis grumbles, but it probably doesn’t sound as threatening as he would like it to, breathless and face blotchy.
“How beautiful you sound, obviously,” and the way he says it, it’s like it should be obvious to Louis. He doesn’t give Louis a chance to respond, which is probably for the best, before he’s spreading Louis’ thighs and lowering himself between them. He adds in a whisper, “Beautiful down here, too.”
Louis barely keeps himself from groaning, head thrown back against the pillow. Harry’s horrible bedroom talk is a small price to pay for how sinfully good he is in bed, overall. Listening to his cheesy lines is worth it when he licks over Louis’ hole.
“Jesus Christ .”
“Language,” Harry whispers, breath warm and teasing.
“Fucking hell -” Harry doesn’t give him a second to breathe, alternating between featherlight kisses and long strokes of his tongue.
Louis barely even notices when he slips a finger in, pressing in and licking around it, just grips the bedsheets and tries to ignore the stars behind his eyes and fireworks under his skin.
He’s not too sure what’s any less intimate about letting Harry go down on him like this versus letting Harry kiss him, but he’s not going to sit down and think about it. It’s easier to allow Harry to do this - it feels dirtier than anything else, especially with the way Harry’s lips shine when he sits up to kiss along the jut of Louis’ hip bones.
It doesn’t take much longer for Harry to slip in two more fingers beside the first, sitting back and watching his fingers work inside. Louis felt self-conscious the first few times he did this, but by now he’s learned to ignore it, focusing instead on the way it all feels.
“Condom,” Louis pants, spreading out while he watches Harry dig around in the drawer. Why he didn’t just grab the condoms when he grabbed the lube, Louis has no idea, but it doesn’t matter because Harry comes back to the bed eventually, settling between Louis’ legs again.
“Ready, baby?” he asks, pressing the tip against Louis’ hole and running his hands along the inside of his thighs.
Louis shakes his head. “Not like this.”
A puzzled expression takes over his face, smoothing out as Louis motions for him to lay down on the bed.
“Wanna ride you tonight,” he explains.
“Anything,” Harry breathes, and it’s so sweet that Louis feels like he needs to look away.
The first press in is always just on the right side of too much, leaving Louis with this feeling like he needs to gasp for breath and clutch at Harry’s shoulders.
Harry reminds him to breathe, whispered sweetly against the skin of Louis’ wrist as he presses kisses there and smoothes his hands down Louis’ sides. His hands settle firmly on his hips, thumbs digging in the exact way they always do, and Louis’ always so surprised that there aren’t permanent thumb-size bruises there.
They fall into a rhythm easy enough, Louis grinding down when Harry thrusts up, quiet except for the few moans that fall from Harry’s lips. Their breathing grows more ragged and Louis knows they’re both close to the edge.
“She didn’t feel anything like me, did she?” Louis pants, thighs begging for him to stop while every other nerve in his body is screaming for him to keep going forever.
“Nobody feels like you, baby,” Harry replies easily, hands sliding from Louis’ hips, reaching around to grab at his ass. “Nobody makes me feel like you do.”
Louis can’t hold off any longer, one hand reaching to stroke himself while the other steadies himself against Harry’s stomach. He comes between them, biting his lip to hold off his moans, shaking as Harry continues thrusting into him.
“Baby,” Louis whines, and it’s enough. Harry comes, head thrown back against the pillow, chest red from where Louis’ been scratching it, hair spread out across the pillow. He looks beautiful like this, Louis thinks, and promptly throws that thought away.
He climbs off of Harry’s hips, thighs sore and body sweating. He plops down on the bed, waiting patiently while Harry heads into the bathroom to grab a rag to clean themselves off. He does so gently, wiping Louis’ stomach and pressing a kiss that tickles the skin.
“Are you staying the night?” he asks once he’s returned from tossing the rag into the laundry.
“No,” Louis answers, but it doesn’t mean much when he’s got his eyes closed, practically already snoring.
Louis tries to slip out in the morning.
Every goddamn time, he tries to slip out in the morning.
The problem comes from sleeping with someone who’s trained to be aware. Even when Harry is sleeping, he’s on edge, a furrow between his eyebrows and his shoulders tense, like he’s just waiting to get attacked.
Louis’ sure he looks the same while he’s asleep.
He tries to slip out the bed without jostling Harry, but it doesn’t even matter because Harry’s eyes snap open and his grip tightens around Louis’ waist. (They always end up cuddling and Louis really needs to put a stop to whatever is going on between them sooner rather than later).
“Why do you even bother trying to sneak out?” Harry mumbles, voice deep and full of sleep. He loosens his grip around Louis’ waist enough that they aren’t so tightly pressed against each other. “I just wish you would kiss me goodbye.”
“Fuck off, Styles,” Louis says, but after years of this arrangement it’s started to lose the heat behind it.
“Not fucking off until you kiss me goodbye,” Harry responds. “You know the rules.”
Louis rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop himself from leaning in and gently pressing a kiss to Harry’s damp forehead. He always runs at such a warm temperature - he’s like Louis’ own personal space heater.
“No kiss on the lips because you’ve got the worst morning breath,” Louis explains when Harry huffs and puckers his lips expectantly. “Now, I’m going home and we’re going to pretend this didn’t happen because it won’t be happening again.”
Harry rolls over onto his back, arms flailing out to his sides as Louis strides across the room. Louis blows him one last kiss from the doorway and ignores Harry shouting at him, “Maybe you could start switching the speech up every once in a while. I’m getting bored!”
Of course, Louis doesn’t go straight home.
He’s always so paranoid that Harry will follow him, finally figure out where he lives after all these years working together. Louis’ honestly surprised he hasn’t tried harder to figure it out yet. Sometimes he’ll ask in passing, but never presses when Louis gives him no details. But that doesn’t stop Louis’ paranoia.
He runs a few errands, stopping first by his favorite coffee shop. It’s the halfway point between his flat and Harry’s, and they know him by name at this point. It’s maybe a sign he stays at Harry’s too much, but Louis always ignores that thought when it threatens to surface.
“Will!” his favorite barista, Ronnie, greets him as he comes in through the entrance. The bell chimes overhead, but he’s learned to tune it out at this point.
“Ronnie,” he says with a smile, stepping up to the counter. They may know him by name, but they don’t know his name. “How’s my favorite barista doing today?”
“Not too shabby,” she answers. She pulls out a clear cup and doodles something on it before passing it down the line. “You’re looking a little sleep deprived today. Would you like me to throw in an extra espresso shot in that iced latte?”
“What a polite way of telling me I look like shit,” Louis laughs. “Nah, I’m good with it how it is. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Tell your boyfriend he needs to start letting you sleep.”
Louis would respond, tell her that Harry is not his boyfriend, never will be his boyfriend, but -
But it doesn’t matter, does it? She doesn’t even know Harry’s name. It’s for the best if she knows false things about him. It keeps both of them safer. So if she wants to think he’s staying at his boyfriend’s house this much, he’ll let her.
“Will!” another barista calls out, holding up his iced latte. Louis takes it, smiling gratefully. He can feel the caffeine headache coming on. “Good to see you, man. Have a good day.”
He nods and then throws a wave at Ronnie before exiting back on to the street. People are bustling around him, busy to get about their days, and Louis falls into the crowd easily. He has a few hours before he has to get to his own job - his day job - and he decides to walk the rest of the way as opposed to hopping on the bus.
Louis finishes his latte just as he turns on to his own street. He tosses it into one of the trash cans outside his building and enters through the front door. He waves at one of his neighbors and climbs the stairs to the first level.
A ball of fluff and excitement greets him when he opens the door, and if he weren’t expecting it he would have fallen to the ground.
“Cliff!” he says, petting him all over, accepting the kisses all over his face. “Hi baby. Did you miss me?”
Of course, Clifford doesn’t answer, but he wags his tail even faster, so Louis suspects that’s as much of an answer as he would get.
“Are you hungry this morning?” Louis asks. Once again, tail wagging. Louis takes it as a yes and goes to the kitchen to fill up his bowl. Clifford is a good companion, and his neighbors are good neighbors for taking care of him while he’s gone. They never even ask any questions, just let Louis drop Cliff off at one of their apartments when he expects to be away for more than a night, and they always check on him when Louis’ gone overnight. It’s a good system, and Louis will be sad if he ever has to move.
He sits at his kitchen table to keep Cliff company while he eats, tail never slowing as he chows down.
There’s a million things he should be doing, but he allows himself the few moments of peace before his day truly gets started. The sunlight coming in through the window lands just right to give the room a true feeling of serenity and Louis uses it as an excuse to lounge around for just that extra slice of time.
Finally, he can’t waste any more time and he stands from the small table shoved off to the side of his kitchen and heads down the hallway to his bedroom to get ready for his shift at the record store. He admires the photos of his friends and family strung carelessly along the walls - there’s one of him and Niall sticking their tongues out together in a selfie, one with his mom and sisters, and even a group photo of the “Robin Hood gang” where Harry is throwing up a peace sign behind Louis’ head.
He rolls his eyes and continues walking.
Louis’ bedroom may be his least favorite place in the whole apartment. It’s the coldest room in the whole place, and he can never seem to shake the chill even when he wears socks and layers three blankets on top of himself. There’s a tiny square window on one of the walls, but they put up another building next door and now his only view is a brick wall. It’s always dark, no matter what time of day it is.
He prefers to spend most of his time in the living room or at his breakfast nook in the kitchen, where light is abundant and comes through softly in the mornings and vibrantly when the sun sets. That’s where Cliff spends most of his days too, curled up on his worn dog bed by the wide living room window.
Unfortunately, the couch is too uncomfortable to sleep on every night and he has to come in here to reach his closet, so Louis sucks it up and shivers as he digs around for something to wear.
He sifts through his vast collection of t-shirts, a collection he’s grown proud of as it’s grown over the years, until he finds a vaguely unfamiliar one. It’s a Rolling Stones tee-shirt, faded and printed on a soft white t-shirt. It’s probably seen some better days, if the tiny holes at the hem are anything to go by, but it’s the perfect shirt to wear to a record store.
Cliff is curled up in his spot by the window, passed out after eating, so Louis only scratches behind his ears and places a small kiss on the top of his head. The dog doesn’t even notice, just lets out a heavy sigh in his sleep and keeps on snoring. Louis wishes he knew that kind of peace in his own life.
The walk to the record store is one of his favourite routes in the city, taking him past the cute diner on the corner, tucked next to the bookstore owned by the adorable married couple that always remember his name, and just a few doors down from where his favorite farmer’s market sets up. In the summertime, flowers line the sidewalks and people line the block, seated at the patios of all the restaurants on the block. There’s not a chain restaurant or store for at least a ten minute walk from the neighborhood, and for just a moment, Louis can pause time and pretend that this is his life.
Of course, this isn’t his life, and probably never will be.
“Will!” Calvin greets when he enters the record shop, a bright smile on his face. “Exactly the person I was so excited to see.”
Louis snorts. “Yeah, only because now you get to leave.”
“Among other reasons,” Cal teases. “It’s been pretty slow today. The weather’s nice so everybody’s hanging outside. I can’t blame them, I guess.”
“Sounds like you’re only a little bitter,” Louis says, punching in on the computer. Exactly on time, just like he is for every shift. Calvin could complain about many things with Louis as his employee, but he can’t complain that Louis has ever been late.
Calvin also likes to blame absolutely everything else on the fact that no one ever comes into the tiny record shop without considering the fact that the sign is so faded outside that nobody can even make out the name of the place and that it’s so small a person could blink and miss it. Louis himself hadn’t even known it existed until James told him he would have to apply here.
It’s unsuspecting enough that it offers him the protection he needs, and that’s all that really matters to Louis. It’s only a bonus that it’s usually dead enough he can read a book to pass the time, and one of the baristas at the coffee shop next door seems to have a crush on him and brings him coffee and a pastry any time they end up working the same shift. Life could be worse.
In fact, he could be Harry. Harry’s “day job” is waiting tables at a bistro across town, and he despises it. The patrons are rude and poor tippers and he says he’ll have to burn his uniform when he’s finally able to quit because the smell of the place has seeped into the fabric. Louis absolutely does not envy him.
Niall, Zayn, and Liam seem to also have gotten off lucky. Liam works at a library and actually manages to spend most of his time doing research for missions, Zayn takes tickets at their local art museum, and Niall teaches guitar lessons. Harry is the only one in their squad who’s pulled the short straw, and he doesn’t hesitate to complain about it.
“Alright, well I’m heading out then,” Cal says. He grabs his bag and surveys the small room before deciding it’s safe to leave Louis alone. There’s literally nobody else in the store. “William, do not let my baby burn down. I will haunt you.”
Louis rolls his eyes. Calvin gives him the same speech every shift.
“Calvin, I pinky promise that if I burn down your baby, you could absolutely haunt me. Although, not sure how that’d work because ideally, we would both still be alive.”
“Louis.” Calvin takes a deep breath. “If you let this place burn down, you better hope you burn down with it.”
As if. Louis would just change his name and move. However, that is a hassle, so he won’t let the record store burn down. “Aye, aye.”
He mock salutes Calvin and finally the man leaves, although hesitantly. When he’d first been hired, Louis wondered why there were only three employees in total, but now he gets it - Calvin’s way too paranoid to hire anybody. It’s a process . It had taken the last new hire four interviews before Calvin decided to hire him on a trial run .
About a person an hour comes in for the duration of his shift, and he helps some of them find specific records and lets the others wander around mindlessly to pass time. Closing up is easy enough, locking the doors and double checking that nothing really looks too out of place. (No matter what Calvin thinks, Louis is not going to go through every record individually to make sure they’re all in the correct place. Fuck that.)
He’s just relocking the door from the outside when his phone buzzes. He shoves his keys in his pocket and answers with a sigh.
“You’ve got perfect timing, you know that?” Louis says, listening to Liam’s soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “It’s fucking creepy. Are you watching me?”
“You don’t want to know the answer to that question.”
He’s right, Louis decides. He really doesn’t want to know what kind of surveillance they run on him every day. “Alright, go on. What do you want?”
He hears Liam take a deep breath. “Can you come to base?”
Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and releases a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding back.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Louis makes it to base in eighteen minutes, slightly sweaty, definitely pink-cheeked.
“Nice of you to join us,” Zayn teases, kicking out the chair next to him.
Louis takes a seat, surveying the room. Liam’s called in everyone - Niall, Zayn, Lewis, Shawn... Harry . “And what is he doing here?”
Liam rolls his eyes and Louis can all but feel Niall’s sigh from across the room.
“He’s part of the squad,” Liam says. He’s probably tired of giving this lecture by this point, but Louis will not rest until he doesn’t have to deal with Harry Styles as part of his usual routine. “Now-”
“Are you wearing my shirt?” Harry asks, effectively cutting off anything Liam was about to say.
“What? No.” Louis glances down at his chest. Come to think of it, he probably is. He has a vague memory of borrowing it one night he stayed at Harry’s and then never returning it.
“Alright, guys,” Liam butts in. “We don’t have time today for you guys to pretend like you hate each other.” He ignores Louis’ cry of ‘ but we do hate each other! ’ and continues on. “We’ve got our next target. I don’t think it’s going to be a simple one, so we need all hands on deck.”
Louis feels a chill up his spine as he takes in the stony expression on Liam’s face. It’s always dangerous, the things they do, and it’s definitely not legal, but he’s never seen Liam look the way he does now. All of his usual playfulness is washed away with something more determined.
“I’m assuming you’ve all heard of Walter Hurst, one of the men running for presidential nomination,” Liam says, typing something on his laptop until his screen is shared onto the large screen mounted on the wall. Walter Hurst’s face pops up, a creepy smile etched on his face as he poses while shaking someone’s hand out of the picture. He’s always given Louis a bad taste and he could never figure out why, horrible politics aside, but he’s assuming Liam is about to tell them.
“So I heard from one of my sources that the FBI has been trying to take him down for years for embezzling money from his campaign donations into his own bank account,” he explains. “But now, it’s just been revealed that he’s been making money by encouraging doctors and pharmaceutical companies to diagnose patients to make more money off of them.”
Their sources are people high up on the inside, people who would rather spill their dirty secrets to Liam on their own terms than have them aired out for everyone to see if the squad forcefully takes them down (Liam usually takes them down anyway). Louis’ never questioned how Liam gets people to rat each other out and confess to anything he needs them to, and he’s not going to ask now. Out of all of them, Louis’ sure Liam has the most secrets. He’s the slowest to reveal anything personal about himself. One time, Niall asked him what his zodiac sign was and Louis thought Liam was going to have a heart attack before he finally revealed himself to be a Virgo.
“He’s done plenty of other shitty things, as most of our... clients have. But we’re going to get to him to get the list of doctors and pharmaceutical companies that are paying him. From there, we’ll find everyone on their payroll and take them out. We’ll go until we hit them all or until the FBI decides they want to step in.” Liam pauses, glancing around the room at each of them. “I’ve compiled a folder for each of you to read. It will detail the plans I’ve made and all of the information I know about Hurst and his accomplices.”
Liam hands them each a different color folder. Louis’ is blue, Harry’s green, Niall’s yellow, and Zayn’s violet. These have been their assigned colors from the start, and Louis doesn’t know what would happen if one day Liam decided to shake it up and hand them each a new color folder. There’d probably be riots or something.
Louis opens his folder, thick with literally hundreds of sheets of paper, and takes in the first page. He has no idea how different the information within his folder is from everyone else’s because they’ve never looked into each other’s folders before. Nobody’s ever asked, and this point it’d just be weird, he thinks.
Flipping through the pages, he takes note of the bolder headers. Wife . Son. Daughter. Daughter-in-law. Mistress. There are italicized subtitles and all of it makes Louis’ head spin. He doesn’t think he’s ever received a folder so dense. He closes it with a thud.
“Li,” Harry says, his folder still shut on the conference table. “If this is as big as you’re making it out to be, do you really expect us to be able to do all of this by ourselves? We’re not that kind of organization, not really. We just steal money from rich people.”
“We’re going to do as much of it as we can.” Liam shakes his head and clicks to the next slide. It’s a brief ( very brief) overview of their plan. Louis wonders how he got all of the information from the folders onto such a short slide.
“Okay, so, lay it on us. What’s our plan?” Louis asks. He leans back in his chair and folds his hands together across his stomach, the perfect picture of relaxation. He’s anything but. They’ve never taken on anything of this size.
“Alright, so. Louis, Harry.” Louis and Harry perk their ears up. “I know you’re both normally the icing on the cake, distracting the targets so we can take their money and hand them over to be arrested, but this time you’ve got a few other things to do. Your special assignments are outlined in your folders.”
Louis nods, following along.
“Each of your first targets is someone that my source has said is crucial to this whole operation going smoothly in any manner. They’re both lawyers, and we need you to gather any information you can from them. Get them drunk, get them loose. That’s the motto, right? It is very important that you do not get caught. Hurst cannot know we are on to him.” Liam fixes them with a stare that could make any man run away his tail between his legs. “Do you hear me?”
Louis nods. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry do the same.
“Liam, we will not fuck this up,” Harry promises, and Louis wants to roll his eyes, but he refrains. “What’s next?”
“Well.” Liam takes a deep breath. “You’ve each got your specific details in your folders. I’ve been working on this for quite a while, and it is quite detailed, so it’s probably best if you go over those individually and then ask me if you have any questions.”
Niall hums. He and Zayn are usually the stealthy pieces of the mission, sliding through ducts and moving their bodies in ways Louis could never dream of moving. He’s seen the training they do - he wants no part in it.
Of course, they’re all trained in self-defense and a few fighting moves, but nothing like the way Niall and Zayn are. He’s never met two people who can so easily slide through a crowd without anyone ever noticing them, or drop from a ceiling and climb back up without ever making a sound. The two things that Louis is thankful for are that Liam is his handler and that he doesn’t have to do what Zayn and Niall do.
Shawn works as Harry’s handler, and Louis’ been lucky enough that Liam usually is his handler for missions. He thinks he’d go insane if he had to listen to Shawn buzzing in his ear while he was trying to get shit done. Sometimes, if Liam is needed doing god knows what else, Lewis will take over, but anyone is better than Shawn. Nothing against him personally, but he’s always talking and he’s from Canada .
“I just say go home and look over this by Friday,” Liam says. “I want each of you to call me when you’ve finished reading through, even if you understand it all. That gives you three days to read it, do any research you need to do, and get back to me. Harry and Louis, your part starts Saturday evening.”
“What are we doing?” Louis asks.
“Hurst is meeting with his lawyers Saturday evening before he goes to some fancy appearance in D.C. From the lawyers’ itinerary that I snatched from both of their phones, it looks like they’ll be going out afterwards to grab drinks. This is your opportunity to get as much information as you can. If you suspect they have any information physically on them, take it. We’ve got to work fast.”
Louis’ head is spinning. For the first time since joining the squad, he thinks he might be in too deep.
Liam dismisses them before Louis can compose himself, and he sits there thinking about what’s in store for him next. He watches Niall, Zayn, and Shawn file out together, laughing about something that Louis didn’t catch.
“Lou, Harry,” Liam says, catching their attention. Louis notes out of the corner of his eye that Harry hasn’t made any effort to leave yet, either.
“Yeah?” Harry responds, eyebrow quirking.
“I think, at least for this first part, it might be better if you do your research together,” Liam suggests. “These lawyers have to collaborate quite a bit, and I think it’d be beneficial if you were both on the same wavelength. I wouldn’t want one of you finding out something that ends up being crucial to the other, or do something that puts the other in danger.”
“Got it.” Louis nods and finally pushes his chair back from the conference table. It’s the same one they’ve had for years, worn and chipped, but Louis loves it for everything it represents - the squad, family, turning over a new leaf, freedom.
“Lou, want to come over to mine and get started?” Harry asks, falling into step beside him as they exit the building. Their headquarters are located in the backroom of an art supply shop, owned by one of the higher-ups in the organization. It’s as good a front as any, Louis assumes.
“I do not,” he answers. “I kind of want to go home and hang out with my cat.”
“Oh, so you have a cat?” Harry’s face perks up. He’s always looking for an opportunity to find out anything about Louis’ personal life. “What’s their name?”
“Her name is Petunia.” Louis keeps his face straight, all the while thinking about how Cliff is probably missing him right about now. As if he would ever own a cat named Petunia.
Harry’s face just lights up even more, as if he’s excited . “Can I come meet her?”
“Absolutely not.” Louis stops in the middle of the sidewalk and crosses his arms. “No way. You know the rules.”
“Right.” Harry nods, mouth forming a straight line. “So do you want to come over to mine or not?”
“No.”
Louis will not do it. Today is the day he says no and means it .
Louis wakes up in Harry’s bed, pulls a pillow over his face, and screams into the warm fabric. One day he’ll say no and mean it, but apparently that day is not today.