“What do I even do, Niall? Do I wake him up? He's still sleeping!”
Louis groans, the whisper-yell making his head pound. His tongue feels too heavy and his stomach is roiling, though he's not sure if it's hunger or nausea. He smacks his lips and tries to banish the taste in his mouth, somewhere between day old-sweat sock and morning breath. That'll teach him to do tequila shots.
Sitting up is a chore. His body protests and he wonders when Zayn's couch got so goddamn uncomfortable. It's lumpy in places he can't remember it being and it smells vaguely of cinnamon. Maybe Zayn's changed air his air freshener or something. He rubs his belly and blinks awake. “Zayn?” he calls out. “Mate, what the fuck are you-”
“Um, I don't mean to be rude, but who the hell are you?”
The unfamiliar voice makes him sit up straighter and his eyes go wide when he turns to the source. There, standing in a pair of ridiculously tiny briefs and brandishing a frying pan in one hand, is quite possibly the prettiest boy he's ever seen. (And he's friends with Zayn, so that's saying something.) Tousled curls, comically wide green eyes, and endless miles of smooth, tattooed skin that make Louis want to explore it with his mouth. He shakes his head, trying to get the image of this boy spread out on silken sheets (because he looks like a guy who deserves silken sheets, damn it, did you see his lips?) out of his head. “Um, I-” he starts to say, but the boy cuts him off again.
“Niall, I'm going to have to call you back. If you don't hear from me in half an hour, call the police.” The boy hangs up the phone and tosses it into an arm chair, still staring at him with that same incredulous expression.
Louis can't help but be affronted. Like he would do anything to harm this cherub of a boy standing in front of him, even if he is wielding a frying pan like he intends to use it. “You finished, or can I answer your question now?” His voice feels like sandpaper in his throat. No more tequila, he decides resolutely.
“Um, yes. What are you doing on my couch?”
His couch? Confusion floods through Louis like a tidal wave. “Your couch? A bit presumptuous, don't you think?” Of course this beautiful man would be walking through Zayn's apartment, probably after spending the night doing unspeakable things to each other. If he didn't love Zayn like a brother, he would probably lock himself in the bathroom and wank himself stupid over the mental image. As it were, instead it just rankles him. “I don't know what he told you, but it's not going to be commitment ceremonies and sharing space, love.”
An adorable furrow appears between the boy's eyebrows and Louis wants to kiss it, Zayn's cast-offs be damned. It wouldn't be the first time. “What?” he asks, clutching the frying pan to his chest. “Are you drunk or something?”
"Hungover,” Louis corrects him. “It makes me cranky, sorry I'm being rude. I'm sure it was magical and amazing and it'll be a night you'll never forget.”
The boy's eyebrows lift and he licks his lips. Louis isn't ashamed to admit he follows the action very closely with this eyes. “I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Zayn is my neighbor, why would I spend the night with him?”
That stops Louis short. What. “What?” he finally manages to say. Something like dread is curling in his stomach as he waits for the other boy to answer. Oh god. He's become that guy. Zayn is never going to let him live this down.
Surprisingly, the boy chuckles and lowers the frying pan, which makes him look adorable and considerably less threatening. “I've only ever talked to Zayn in passing. He's cute, but I wouldn't sleep with him.” He bites his lip, like he's holding back laughter.
Not like Louis doesn't deserve it. He drops his head in his hands and groans. “So, if you didn't sleep with Zayn, then that means...” he trails off, reluctant to continue that line of thought. He scrubs his hand across his face and looks back up at the boy. “I'm in the wrong goddamn flat, aren't I?”
The boy nods, but he's smiling. That's something. “Imagine my surprise when I went to make myself breakfast and found you sleeping on my couch. How did you even get in here?” he asks. Thankfully, he sounds more curious than upset. Louis will take it.
“Well, I was out with some mates and Zayn told me he was spending the night with his latest flame and so I guess my drunk brain figured it was best to come back here. You, uh, hide your extra keys in the same spot,” he replies, heat flooding his cheeks. This might be the single most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to him, and it happened in front of this Adonis. Way to go, Tomlinson. “When I saw you this morning, I just assumed you were here because of Zayn.”
He laughs, the sound rippling up Louis' spine. Now that he wasn't off-limits, the boy was ten times more attractive. Maybe it's the hangover, but he's almost shining in the morning sunlight.
Louis really needs to lay off the tequila. It turns him into a sap for fit strangers whose flats he accidentally breaks into.
“Nope, it seems that's still a mystery. I'm Harry, by the way.” He thrusts out a hand and Louis shakes it heartily, resisting the urge to pull Harry into his lap. He could always blame it on the alcohol still in his system. “Now that I know you're not here to rob me, would you like to stay for breakfast...?”
“Louis. And can it be greasy, after-a-night-of-binge-drinking breakfast?” he asks hopefully. It's probably rude of him to make such a request, considering he passed out on this stranger's couch, but if Harry was offering, well. He just hopes his mother never finds out.
Harry laughs again. “Sure, I'm pretty ace at those. Why don't you go freshen up a bit? The toilet is down the hall and there's probably a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, if you want.” He heads over to the kitchen and starts bustling around the small space. It makes Louis' gut clench a little.
“Used to having overnight visitors, are you?” he tries to tease. Something about that thought makes him uncomfortable, but he really doesn't have a leg to stand on. He already sort of implied that Harry was a slag, which was not a good way to go about wooing pretty boys. Lucky for him Harry seems to be a good-natured sort who won't hold it against him.
“Nah, I just happen to also have a mate who has the tendency to get drunk and crash on my couch,” Harry replies with a cheeky wink. “Maybe Zayn and I should start a support group.”
Louis laughs all the way down the hall.
After scrubbing his teeth and splashing some well-deserved cold water on his face, Louis almost feels human again. By now, the delicious smell of breakfast is wafting through the flat and it beckons him back out to the kitchen.
Harry is a vision, frying eggs and flipping eggy bread in a pan like a pro. If Louis wasn't already enamored with him, he certainly is now. How could anyone not appreciate a gorgeous man cooking them breakfast in so little clothing? If only this would end up like it does in porn, Louis could die a happy man.
“Do you mind bacon instead of sausage? I seem to be out,” Harry asks, pulling Louis from his lecherous thoughts.
“Mate, you're making me breakfast after my impromptu home invasion. I think whatever you decide to offer me is fine.” Boy, if that statement wasn't rife with innuendos that make Louis' blood run a little hotter. Okay, he's seriously not going to be that guy. “Get a grip, Tomlinson,” he mutters under his breath, before loudly adding, “You really didn't have to do this.”
Harry shrugs as he scoops eggs onto a plate. Over medium, just like Louis likes them. He's beginning to wonder if he's stepped into the Twilight Zone. “It's no trouble at all. I was going to make breakfast anyway, so why not? You seem nice enough.”
Louis feels his insides warm just a bit. “Did you decide that before or after you threatened me with a frying pan?” he teases.
“What would you have done, finding a strange man sleeping on your couch? And snoring like a congested elephant, no less,” Harry says, eyebrow arching as he sets Louis' plate down in front of him. He slides into the seat across from Louis and starts eating.
Clutching his chest, Louis scoffs and musters up as much fake indignation as he can. Harry doesn't look swayed in the slightest. Damn, he's good. “A congested elephant, honestly. You wound me. I hope your cooking skills are better than your insults.” He makes a show of picking up his fork and biting into the eggs and bit of bacon he scooped up.
Oh. Oh god. This might very well be the best breakfast he's ever eaten. He doesn't hold back the moan of contentment, and he notices that Harry doesn't even pretend to hide his smug smile. “I sit corrected. Fuck, this is good.” He's practically shoveling food into his mouth, not realizing how hungry he was until he put such perfection into his mouth. Plus, it keeps him from getting to his knee and proposing to Harry right there. It's that good.
“Glad you're enjoying it. Slow down, though, or else you might choke on it.”
Louis takes a giant swig from the glass of milk that Harry was kind enough to set in front of him to wash it down. “Don't have a gag reflex, there's no worry about that.” He continues eating, pretty sure he didn't imagine that way Harry chokes on his own bite. Why he said that, he's not sure, but whatever. He can blame it on food euphoria or something. When he's done eating, he pushes back from the table and pats his stomach. “That was absolutely fantastic.”
Harry beams at him, a devastating dimple appearing on his cheek that Louis kind of wants to lick. He's such a goner. “Thank you. Glad you liked it. So, I-” he starts, but the sudden shrill sound of a phone ringing cuts him off. Looking sheepish, Harry answers. “Hi Niall...”
Using picking up the dishes as an excuse to eavesdrop, Louis takes his sweet time to start to clear the table. It's the least he can do after Harry was kind enough to make him food and look so fucking hot doing it. Plus, he needs to know what Harry thinks of him so he knows if he should try to put the moves on him. Zayn might argue with his etiquette, but if you can't ask out the seriously gorgeous guy who's apartment you broke into, who can you ask out?
It's a hell of an icebreaker, but it'll be an interesting story to tell their children. He can picture it now, Harry surrounded by cute curly-haired blue-eyed babies, regaling them with stories of how their incredibly dashing father won him over with his good looks and winning personality...
Louis realizes he probably looks like a moony-eyed fool when he's startled out of his reverie by a loud thump against the table, followed by a groan. He glances over to see Harry face-down, riotous curls falling like a chocolate cascade against the wood.
Thank god he didn't say that out loud. Louis almost wants to smack himself.
“Everything okay?” he asks. He's itching to put his hand on Harry's shoulder, but he doesn't think they're quite at that level of familiarity.
“Niall, seriously... I can't believe you...” Harry groans again. Chatter from the other side of the phone makes Harry sit up and run a hand over his face. “I know what I said. I just didn't think you would actually do it.” He holds up a finger and Louis sits back down at the table. “Whatever, look, I've got to let you go, since now I have to deal with this before work. I'll call you tonight.” He flings the phone across the table and starts tugging on his lip, which only serves to make Louis want to bite it instead.
“Everything okay?” Louis tries again. Anything to distract himself from Harry's ruby red lip tucked between his pale fingers.
Harry finally stops playing his lips (much to Louis' relief) and lets out a sigh. “The one time Niall decides to take me seriously...” he starts, getting up from the table. “Niall called the police. They're probably on their way over right now.”
“Oh fuck, um... you're not-”
Harry waves his hands around wildly, cutting Louis off. His eyes have gone as wide as dinner plates and he looks like some kind of cartoon character. Louis has never been more endeared to a human being in his life, and he has six younger siblings. “No! No, don't worry. I'll just sort everything out when they get here. I just can't believe he called the police.”
“He was probably worried about you. At least he cares. Zayn hasn't even texted me, the wanker.” Something in Louis' chest inflates when Harry laughs at that, green eyes sparkling. “Though, if you're going to have company, you might want to have something on besides your pants.” He points down to the tiny, tiny briefs that Harry has on, as much as it pains him. Louis would very much like to see him cavort around in them for the rest of his life.
Harry flushes an adorable shade of pink, from nipples to nose. “I guess you're right. Be right back, yeah?” He dashes off down the hallway before Louis can answer, but it wasn't like he was going anywhere.
While he waits, Louis busies himself with scraping the remnants of breakfast from the dishes into the bin and puttering around Harry's kitchen. He thinks about actually washing them, but he hears Harry walking back down down the hall and decides against it. “Hey, you-”
His words die in throat. If he had thought the briefs were bad, they had nothing on Harry now. He looks like a walking hipster wet dream, with his barely buttoned plaid shirt, sinfully tight skinny jeans, and scuffed brown boots. Normally, that look would turn Louis off, but all it does is make him want to climb Harry like a tree. “Um, I...uh, was going to the dishes.” Smooth, Louis.
Harry just waves his hand and smiles that devastating smile that makes Louis' insides light up like roman candles. “Nah, don't worry about it. I'll do them when I get home tonight. I appreciate it, though.” He gives Louis a thumbs up and a wink.
Louis just nods dumbly. He's too busy thinking about that stretch of tanned skin peeking out of Harry's shirt to do much of anything. He just wants to put his mouth on it, cover him in marks, trace the tip of his tongue along Harry's tattoos-
“Hello? Earth to Louis?”
He snaps back to the present, eyes focusing on Harry, who's face is dangerously close to his own. It would be nothing at all for him to lean close and press their mouths together. His eyes trail down to Harry's lips, full and plush and so fucking pink that they can't be real. They look like they would taste like candy floss.
Before he can, though, a knock sounds on the door and the moment is broken. Harry pulls away and heads to the door, opening it to reveal two rather confused looking policemen on the other side. “We were called here about a hostage situation?”
Louis and Harry groan at the same time. See, they're soulmates, why else would they be able to respond in unison? “I'm going to kill him,” Harry grumbles just loud enough for Louis to hear. “No sir, there's been a misunderstanding. You see...”
That's probably Louis' cue to leave. He tunes out the conversation Harry's having with the police officer and goes back to the couch to gather his things. Thankfully, drunk Louis had the foresight to leave his important things like his keys and wallet in his shoes. (Drunk Louis was so thoughtful, even if he did accidentally break into other people's flats.) He shoots off a text to Zayn saying he's on his way over, to which he only gets a “k” in response. What a wanker, why are they even friends?
He glances up just as Harry is closing the door behind the two policemen. “Everything all right?”
“Yup! I explained everything. Though, they did advise me to find a new hiding place for my spare key, lest I wake up to any more uninvited guests,” Harry replies with a smirk.
An utterly irrational flare of jealousy burns in Louis' stomach at that. He was the only uninvited guest Harry needed, thank you very much. “Good plan, I think.” He rubs the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. This isn't his usual standard “spending-the-night-awkward-morning-after” protocol, so just bailing seems like a shitty thing to do. “So, I guess I should thank you for not turning me over to the police for breaking and entering.”
Harry lets out an adorable bark of laughter before he claps his hand over his mouth. He sounds like a fucking seal and Louis wants to bottle the sound to keep it forever. “You're quite welcome. I wouldn't suggest making a career out of it, though. Not everybody would be as nice as I am.”
“You mean, making me hangover breakfast after accusing them of being my best friend's one night stand? Can't imagine why.” Playful banter he could do. Playful banter was good. Louis is the master at playful banter.
It gets another laugh, much softer and sweeter this time. “Exactly!” Harry's smile goes soft around the edges and he shoves his hand in his pocket. “I hate to do this, but I have to head to work. I'll... see you around?”
Louis' insides freeze at that. No, no, no, he can't leave now! Not when he is on the verge of seducing this heavily tattooed cherub of a boy with his wit! “Um, yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to keep you.” He shuffles towards the door, like his pitiful excuse for steps would delay the inevitable.
“It's no problem. And now that you know where I live, you can visit any time!” Harry exclaims happily, as he closes the door behind them. “But let's try knocking first, hmm?”
The teasing is sweet and Louis can't get enough of it. “Sure. Have a good day at work, yeah? Thanks again.”
“Thanks! Bye, Lou!” Harry offers him a cheerful wave before he heads down the hallway. Louis watches him disappear around the corner towards the stairs, mesmerized by his long, pretty legs and his adorable little bum in those too tight jeans. It takes him a few minutes to shake himself out of his stupor and head towards Zayn's door, unsurprised to find it unlocked.
“Honey, I'm home!” he calls out, plopping down next to Zayn on his familiar and considerably less lumpy couch. He grabs the remote and turns on some inane program that neither of them are going to watch. “Didja miss me?”
“Not one bit. Where were you? I thought you said that you were crashing here last night?” Zayn asks, not looking up from where he's typing on his laptop. He's a vision, shirtless and all artfully messy bedhead with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. If Louis wasn't immune to his beauty (and hadn't just met the man of his dreams/love his life/potential soul mate that morning), he would be utterly charmed.
As it was, he just scoffs. “Oh, now you give a shit. Didn't seem too worried before I texted you, hmm?” he snarks, reaching over and attempting to tweak Zayn's nipple.
It's a testament to just how long they've been friends when Zayn parries his attack without missing a beat. “You're a grown lad, you can take care of yourself. Besides, this isn't the first time you've told me you were coming over and you've mysteriously disappeared. And you still didn't answer my question.”
Louis lets out a sigh and lets his head roll back on the couch. “Zayn, I have a problem.”
“As if that's something new.”
“Can you stop being an insufferable twat for two seconds and listen?” Louis snaps. When Zayn motions for him to continue, he rubs a hand over his face. “Thank you. Now, my problem is that I never realized how incredibly fit your next door neighbor is. Like, really, really fit. Like, he's exactly my type fit.”
Zayn finally closes the laptop and sets it down on the coffee table. “Okay? So, you think Harry's hot and that's a problem? I could have told you that.” He takes a drag of the cigarette before handing it to Louis. It's like he knew.
He takes his own drag and then hands it back, blowing the smoke out of his nose. He could probably talk Zayn into smoking a bowl with him, but no. Louis needs to focus right now. “Does he have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Is he single? Please tell me he's single.”
“Um, well, there's some blonde guy that usually goes in and out of his flat, but they always seem like friends- wait, why are you asking me? When did you see Harry?”
It's now or never. Louis' probably going to have to deal with Zayn never letting him live this down, but it's all for the sake of love. Or, you know, at least getting into Harry's unbelievably tight pants. “When I woke up on his couch this morning.” He waits a beat, before turning his head to look at Zayn.
“You what?” Zayn asks, eyes wide.
Louis clears his throat. “You heard me. I met him this morning when I woke up on his couch.”
“And why, might I ask, did you wake up on his couch this morning?”
“It's kind of a long story. Apparently you both keep your spare keys in the same place and I accidentally stumbled into his flat instead of yours and woke up with him in amazingly tiny briefs and wielding a frying pan like a weapon,” he answers fondly, already conjuring up a mental image of Harry from this morning. Louis wants to get it tattooed to his eyelids. “After I accused him of invading your flat, he made me breakfast.”
It takes only a minute before Zayn breaks down, laughing so hard he's doubled over on the couch. He's got tears streaming down his face and he's clutching his sides. Louis contemplates pushing him off the couch. “I hope you choke, you arsehole.”
“I swear to god Louis, only you,” Zayn replies between loud, wheezing laughs. “You're unbelievable.” The laughter goes on for another few minutes until he manages to get himself under control. Wiping tears from his eyes, Zayn shakes his head. “Okay, so, what's the problem?”
“Glad you're finished and ready to actually be of some fucking use,” Louis grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. “The problem is that he's beautiful and sweet and I want to put his dick in my mouth.”
“I still don't see the problem. So, why didn't you after breakfast?”
Louis groans again and wipes his hand across his face. “You really think that didn't cross my mind? He had to go to work and his stupid friend Niall called the police, saying it was a hostage situation, and-” That sets Zayn off into another round of laughter and Louis has to fight not to pinch him. “Fuck this, I should call Liam. He won't fucking laugh at me.”
He goes to get up off the couch, but Zayn pulls him back down. “Oh come on, Louis. Stop being a twat. If this was me, you would laugh at me for the next fifty years.” Okay, true, but that was so not even the point. Why wasn't Zayn understanding his predicament? “But why does all this mean you can't put his dick in your mouth?”
“Because he probably thinks I'm a crazy weirdo who gets drunk and crashes on stranger's couches!”
“But you are a crazy weirdo who gets drunk and crashes on stranger's couches.”
“Not the point!” Louis cries, finally standing up. He's tempted to throw himself onto the floor and stay there until he rots, but that would be a bit dramatic even for him. “The point is that he probably thinks I'm weird and wants nothing to do with me ever again.” He leaves out the fact that Harry had said he hoped he saw him around, but that probably was because Harry was the nicest human being on the planet and said that to be nice. Nice people did things like that all the time. It didn't mean anything.
Zayn quirks an eyebrow at him as he finished his cigarette and stubs it out in the ashtray on the coffee table. “You said he made you breakfast and didn't turn you over to the police. That should count for something.”
Zayn and his logic could get bent as far as he was concerned. “I don't know, Zayn. He's just so pretty and I want his dick in my mouth. Is that so much to ask?” Louis laments, draping himself over the couch.
“I still don't see why you can't go over there after he gets off work and tell him you want to put his dick in your mouth. Maybe if you're lucky, he'll put his in your arse and we'll all be happy.” Zayn leans over and flicks him in the forehead, earning himself a half-hearted swat. “You'll stop whining at me and you'll get laid by somebody that'll actually respect you in the morning.”
Louis smiles into the fabric of the couch. Despite the atrocious way they talk to each other (Louis' mum's words, not his), he knows that Zayn's got his back and just wants him to be happy. Louis is a romantic at heart, despite the way he tends to offer his arse up any time he's got too much tequila in him, but. And he's already planning he and Harry's wedding in his head. Now, if he could only get the other boy on the same page they'd be golden. “You think so?” he asks, peering back up at Zayn through his fringe.
Zayn pets through his hair for approximately two point five seconds before he swats Louis in the back of the head. “Yes, you tart. Now, I need you to pick yourself up off my sofa and go take a shower. You still smell like bar and bad decisions. How Harry allowed you to stick around in his flat is beyond me.” Louis launches himself at Zayn and a scuffle ensues, ending with both of them sprawled out on the floor, laughing breathlessly.
The rest of the day continues much the same way, with Louis whining at Zayn about wanting Harry's dick in his orifices, and Zayn threatening to kick him out. Finally, Zayn seems to get fed up and pushes him out the door, slamming it with, “Don't come back until you've been good and dicked!” Which, rude. He can't help it that he's pining. He probably could let himself back in with the spare key, but Zayn had mentioned Liam coming over later and isn't that an interesting new development.
He'll tease Zayn for it later, after he's managed to make Harry fall madly in love with him.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Louis heads down the stairs and out into the street. He could go back home, but the idea of going back to his own flat isn't appealing. Besides, he's got to come up with a plan of how he's going to succeed in Operation: Suck Harry's Cock before Harry gets back from work. (Which might be more successful if he'd actually asked what time Harry was off of work, but he makes it a point not to dwell on the past.) So, he stands out in front of the complex with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, staring intently at his shoes like they have the answer to all of his problems.
“You are so bloody ridiculous,” he tells himself. He doesn't know what it is about this boy that fucks him up so badly. Uusally Louis has no problem giving fit boys his phone number, asking him to call him since he's certainly not going to do it himself. Of course, these are boys he usually meets in bars and pubs and clubs of questionable propriety with no intention of seeing them again, but whatever.
Because this one matters, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Zayn says in his head. Because this one you want for keeps.
Bolstered by his internal pep-talk, Louis heads back up the stairs towards Harry's flat. He's just going to leave his number, give Harry the chance to come to him. Yeah, that's nice and non-threatening. Then if Harry didn't want to see him again, no harm no foul. It's a perfect idea.
Until he gets halfway up the stairs and remembers that he doesn't have a pen. Or paper. Fuck. There goes that idea. Louis slumps back down towards the lobby and his thoughts start spiraling downward again. Maybe the universe is telling him that it isn't meant to be. That all of his meticulous plans of getting his mouth on Harry's dick were just a bygone fantasy and he should just stick to nameless boys he'll forget in the morning.
That thought depresses him. Maybe he should just go home and get drunk enough to black out (and even in his own bed this time).
Louis clutches at his hair and contemplates smacking his head against the wall. There was no reason for this defeatist attitude. He was Louis Fucking Tomlinson, and Louis Fucking Tomlinson did not give up when there was something he wanted. He would go and sit outside Harry's door until he got home so he could tell him how he felt. It always works in those rom-coms that Louis definitely doesn't watch in the privacy of his own flat.
He turns around and heads back up the stairs with renewed spirits, plopping himself down in front of Harry's door. He'll wait all night if he has to!
Ten minutes in and Louis is already restless. He's never been good at sitting still and having nothing to do is not helping the situation. His phone battery died sometime between when he left Zayn's and the third time he paced up and down the hallway, so he couldn't even play Trivia Crack to pass the time. If he didn't find something to do, he was going to explode in a ball of manic energy. Or worse, the crazy cat lady at the end of the hall was going to invite him in for a cup of tea again. With the way she had been leering at him, he's pretty sure he wouldn't make it out alive. She'd probably chop him into bits and feed him to her army of demon cats she was training for her plans of world domination-
Apparently he's slowly losing his mind. Shaking his head, Louis gets to his feet and starts walking down the stairs again to get a change of scenery. He continues to contemplate what he's going to say to Harry, so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice someone's walking up until he's nearly knocked them off their feet.
“Shit! I'm so sorry, fuck, I didn't mean-”
All of that contemplation had been for nothing because everything that Louis had planned on saying flies right out of his head. Harry is still a vision with his mind-melting plaid shirt and his fucking long legs and is that paint on his face?
“Is that paint on your face?”
Harry cocks his head and furrows his eyebrows, making Louis want to melt into the floor. What the hell is wrong with him? “Um, yes. Did an art project with the kids today, and those tend to get messy, but they love it. Are you all right?” he asks, his face softening into a smile.
“Fine,” Louis squeaks out. Great, not only is he gorgeous, he works with kids. And if the way his eyes are sparkling is any indication, Harry apparently loves it. Images of Harry laughing with beautiful curly-haired blue-eyed babies fill his head and it physically pains him not to get down on his knees and blow him right here in the stairwell. He clears his throat and tries to get a hold on himself. “Fine, sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going. Sorry about that.”
“It's fine, Lou,” Harry says with a wave of his hand. The nickname makes Louis' tummy flip in the most embarrassing way possible. “Were you on your way out?”
Those damn dimples are out in full force, which is probably why Louis completely mucks it up when he opens his mouth. “Uh, yeah. Zayn has company coming and I need to head home. Got stuff to do.”
He probably imagines it, the way Harry's face falls for a fraction of a second, because his face lights up in a smile a beat after. “Oh, okay. Well, it was good to see you again.” Harry waves and starts heading up the stairs towards his flat.
There are words on the tip of Louis' tongue, to stop Harry from walking away or to hold on while he collects his thoughts or anything at all, but he can't seem to get them out. Instead, he hurries down the stairs and out of the building with his tail between his legs. He collapses against the wall outside and scrubs his hands over his face. He was being a giant idiot about this but he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what the hell was wrong with him.
He's a disgrace. Even Liam has more game than him, and Liam is the human equivalent of a Labrador retriever with about as much poise and grace as a brick wall.
“Still haven't talked to him?” a too familiar and wholly unwelcome voice asks from above, breaking Louis out of his self-deprecating spiral. He had a good brood going, too.
“Does it look like I talked to him?” Louis snaps, glaring up at Zayn. He wants to apologize, but his frustration needs an outlet and Zayn works just fine. It's his fault anyways. If he hadn't hid his spare key in the same place that Harry does, Louis wouldn't have gotten confused and ended up on Harry's couch.
Zayn holds his hands up in surrender. “Chill out, mate. It's not my fucking fault you're too much of a pussy to do it. Harry is just Harry, the goofy kid who sings too loud on Sunday mornings and asks our neighbor's dog how it's doing. I don't know what you're so afraid of.”
Righteous indignation roils in Louis' veins for half a second before he deflates, letting out a breath. Zayn's right. “I don't know, okay? Something about him just fucks me up and I don't just want to fuck him, I want to date him and make him smile and wake up beside him in his bed and not on his fucking uncomfortable couch. I just met him this morning, what is wrong with me?” he wails, hiding his face in the sleeve of his jumper.
He braces himself for the inevitable teasing that's going to come. Zayn is totally going to take the piss out of him for this, he just knows it.
Instead, Zayn cards a hand through his hair and looks at him with this soft, knowing look. “I think it's sweet, Lou. Harry's a good guy, I meant what I said earlier. And you deserve that.” He leans over and kisses Louis' forehead with a loud smack. “And seriously, you need to get laid. Who better to do it than my super hot neighbor who is probably just as weird as you are?”
Louis lets out a wet laugh and shoves him. Emotion clogs his throat and it's getting to be more touchy-feely than Louis is willing to be. Well, at least with Zayn, but he doesn't need to know that. “Oi, don't be a cunt. You're just jealous of my awesomeness.”
“I'm sure that's it.” Zayn straightens back up with a roll of his eyes. “I need to stop giving you compliments, they go straight to your head.”
“Better than straight to my arse, right?” Louis replies cheekily, letting out a sigh. “I've had about all the pep talks I can stand for the night. When did my life become a romantic-comedy?”
“I thought you didn't watch those,” Zayn asks. He dodges easily when Louis kicks out at him, returning it to the sole of Louis' shoe. “Well, if you puss out again, there's consolation pizza in the fridge waiting for you.”
As if on cue, Louis stomach grumbles at that. “Might take you up on that. What kind is- wait. Why are you inviting me back up for pizza? I thought Liam was coming over. Isn't that why you kicked me out?” He folds his arms across his chest and does his best to glare up at Zayn. Something is fishy, and he thinks he's looking right at it.
Zayn looks less than impressed. “Oh, I'm actually heading over to his right now. I just told you that so you would stop moping around my flat and would do something about your pathetic pining.” He smiles and tips an imaginary hat in Louis' direction before turning around and walking away.
“I hate you, Zayn Malik! You're the worst person in the history of the world!” Louis yells out, to which Zayn responds with a wave. Seriously, Zayn deserved the World's Worst Best Friend Award. He could even take it away from Harry's equally Terrible Friend Niall after the whole calling-the-police-fiasco. Naturally that leads him to start thinking about Harry, which makes him groan again. He needs to do something about this Harry situation, otherwise he's going to lose his mind.
Maybe Zayn is right, even thought Louis would never admit that out loud. Harry seems like a sweet guy and he wouldn't crush Louis' heart under his heel. Plus, he'd seemed genuinely disappointed both times they had to separate, so that was a point in his favor. At the very least, Harry would probably just reject him in the politest way possible and that would be that. Louis could move on and stop thinking about all the interesting positions they could try out with Harry's long limbs.
He picks himself up off the ground and dusts off his trousers. So, all he needed to do was head back up the stairs and knock on Harry's door. He could totally handle this.
As he was collecting himself, he notices a woman standing on the street corner, waving around bouquets that were filled with beautifully-colored blossoms. Louis can't help but smile; it's like the universe is finally smiling down on him and letting him catch a break. Maybe living in a rom-com wasn't as bad as he thought.
“How much?” he asks when he reaches her, already pulling out his wallet. It's a gamble, because Harry could absolutely hate flowers, but hopefully the sincerity and thought behind the gesture will come through.
The woman smiles at him and hands him one of the bouquets. Louis has no idea what flowers are in them or what they even mean, but it's pretty. Pretty things deserve pretty things, after all. And this is about all he can do on such short notice. “Five pounds, love,” she says finally.
Louis practically pushes the note in her hand and then dashes back towards the building. This is the part where the dramatic music starts playing, the crowds clear, and suddenly the two main characters are reunited in a single, blissful moment that swells and blossoms and everything is bunnies and rainbows...
Except he's not in a movie. He's just plain old Louis Tomlinson, standing in front of a door and preparing to hand the bouquet and his heart to the prettiest stranger he's ever met. And he's fucking terrified.
“Just knock on the door. Just knock on the fucking door,” he mutters to himself, hand poised and ready to follow his own advice and knock on the fucking door.
He raps his knuckles against the wood and waits, heart in his throat.
The door opens and Harry is standing there with the most adorably confused look on his face. He's shirtless and in a pair of low-slung joggers that hang dangerously on his doughy hips. Louis has to make a concentrated effort to keep his eyes above Harry's navel. “Lou? I thought you were-”
“These are for you,” Louis cuts him off, thrusting the flowers at him. “I know it's probably really weird and you probably think I'm the biggest creeper on the planet, but...these are for you. To say thank you for not having me arrested for breaking into your apartment because I'm apparently the biggest fucking drunk twat in the world. And-” he takes a breath, knowing he needs to get this out or he'll never do it otherwise. “And I also came here to tell you that you're probably the fittest, nicest human being on the planet and I would very much like to date the fuck out of you and probably put your dick in my mouth, multiple times a day if I could.” It all comes out in a rush and Louis prays to whatever might be listening for Harry to understand him because there's no way that he could say it again.
Judging by the look on Harry's face, he won't have to. His mouth is open and his eyes are comically wide, just like his expression that morning when he threatened Louis with a frying pan. He probably shouldn't be as endeared as he is, but Louis is quickly learning that Harry is the exception to most things.
The silence stretches for what seems like years and Louis can feel the itch to run creeping over him. He's still clutching the flowers and Harry is still staring at him like he's an alien and he should have known that this was a huge mistake. “Okay, well... good talk. Here,” he shoves the flowers into Harry's chest and turns to make a break for Zayn's door. Maybe he can drown himself in leftover pizza and forget this day ever happened
A hand curls around his wrist and he's jerked back, Harry pulling him through the door and closing it behind them. Louis finds himself pressed against the door and this was so not where he expected to be, but he's all for it. “Thank you for the flowers. And for the record, I am totally on board with the dating and dick in the mouth thing,” Harry says, mouth curving into a smirk right before he leans down to kiss Louis.
It's so much better than he thought it would be. Harry's mouth is warm and plush and he's doing things with his tongue that's making his toes curl in his shoes. Louis might have died and gone to heaven. He reaches up and cups Harry's face in his hands to deepen the kiss, making both of them gasp into the scant space between their lips. It's hot and messy and everything a good first kiss should feel like.
Without breaking their kiss, Harry tosses the flowers to the floor and starts directing Louis towards his couch. It shouldn't turn Louis on as much as it is, being manhandled like this, but fuck if he isn't already on his way to hard in his jeans. Harry's pretty damn strong for such a cupcake.
Harry successfully maneuvers them onto the couch, shoving Louis down and crawling on top of him as their kiss gets even more heated. Louis sucks on his tongue and rocks his hips up, against the shape of Harry's cock pressing into his thigh. It makes his head swim, feeling Harry so close, and it's already better than all of his lame one-night stands.
So he's a romantic. Sue him.
It isn't until Harry's sneaky fingers move up underneath his shirt and tweak his nipple that they break apart. He pulls away with a groan and does his best to glare up at Harry, who just grins. “That's so not even playing fair,” Louis mumbles, biting his lip when Harry does it again.
“Says the man grinding his thigh into my cock,” Harry remarks. He pulls his hand out of Louis' shirt, only to whip it up over his head before he can protest. “I feel like now we're even.” He tosses it over the edge of the couch before diving down to lick across Louis' nipple. It pulls another noise out of Louis and he tangles his fingers into the curly locks he's been dreaming about since this morning. He pulls when Harry bites down and he can feel Harry's moan vibrate against his skin. That's definitely something to keep in mind.
“Fuck, your mouth,” Louis whimpers as his hips roll up against the hard lines of Harry's stomach. The barely there friction is enough to make his blood burn but not enough to get him off. The tease is driving him crazy. “Need your mouth.”
Harry pops up, pressing one last kiss to the tight little bud he'd been happily tonguing before shimmying his way down to Louis' crotch. Fuck, he's so endearing Louis might not last the night. “I thought you wanted to put my dick in your mouth,” he teases. His eyes sparkle up at Louis as he mouths along his bulge, using his hands to force Louis' hips down.
It takes Louis longer than he'd like to admit to get back with the program; the promise of Harry's mouth near his cock had sent his brain into short-circuit. “T-that can be arranged, you know?” he forces out passed his clenched teeth as Harry's mouth closes around the head of his cock through the sweats he'd borrowed from Zayn. Maybe he should have worn pants...
“I really like the way you think. Two for one?” Harry asks cheekily. Without waiting for a reply, Harry wiggles out of his joggers and pushes them over the arm of the couch. He sits up and Louis nearly chokes. Fuck, but he's gorgeous, miles of pale, tattooed skin that Louis wants to map with his tongue and a long, thick cock bobbing between his thighs that makes Louis' mouth water. “See something you like?”
Harry's question pulls him out of his lust-stupor and Louis nods like his life depends on it. “You have no idea. Now c'mere.”
Harry doesn't speak, but instead yanks Louis' sweats off and drops them on the floor. He licks his lips, staring down at Louis in a way that makes his cock twitch. “Goddamn...” he breathes, leaning down again and sucking a mark into Louis' hip. “No pants?” he asks, licking once over it before leaning back up. His hand wraps around Louis' cock and tugs him in a way that's almost too perfect for words.
It stings in a way that sets Louis' nerves on fire. “Like you're one to talk,” he manages to grit out. He fights against Harry's hold, wanting to fuck up into the circle of his fingers, but Harry doesn't let him. It's maddening and so fucking good.
“Maybe I was hoping you would come by,” Harry whispers, voice low and rough. “Maybe I was going to have a wank right here on my couch while I thought about you.”
“Oh fuck.” The thought of Harry stroking his big cock right where he slept last night makes his body tight with heat and his cock flexes in Harry's grip.
“But now I have something much, much better.” Harry lets go, much to Louis' dismay. He swallows down his protest, though, when Harry turns around so that his cock is right there, right where Louis can finally get what he wants. Harry doesn't make him wait, either, immediately taking Louis' cock into his mouth. It's all wet heat and tight suction and it takes Louis a moment to remember that he's supposed to be reciprocating. Harry's mouth is just so, so good.
He licks over the tip of Harry's cock and his own hips twitch after Harry groans around him. He suckles the head for a moment, opening his eyes to see that Harry's gorgeously perky little bum is right there. The same perky bum that he had been admiring in those skinny jeans earlier. He pulls off Harry's cock, earning himself a noise of protest, but he ignores it. “Harry, are you clean? Please tell me you're clean.”
Harry pops off and looks back at him, mouth flushed a fantastic shade of red. “Yes?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you-” It hits him at once and Louis watches his mouth go slack and his eyes glaze over just a bit. “Oh, um. Yes. I showered earlier, when I got home. You can, um, you can.”
That's all the encouragement Louis needs. He snakes his arms up around Harry's legs and spreads him open, dragging the flat of his tongue across Harry. It makes the boy above him squeak and latch back onto Louis' cock, sucking him down.
Normally, Louis isn't overly fond of rimming, because arse still tastes like arse no matter how clean, but Harry's reaction is enough for him to want to eat him out for hours. He's sucking Louis' cock and twisting his hand as Louis licks him, occasionally pointing his tongue and jabbing it into his hole. Spit is running down his chin but Louis doesn't care, can't care when Harry is writhing deliciously on top of him and bobbing on his cock like he is.
Arousal burns in the pit of Louis' belly and it feels good, pumping his hips up into the wet heat of Harry's mouth as he lazily licks him out, slurping and sucking along his rim before pushing his tongue back inside with sharp thrusts that make Harry squirm. Filthy wet noises fill the air around them and it's turning Louis right the fuck on. He pulls out and circles Harry's rim with his tongue, dragging his tongue from his balls to the top of his arse before licking at him again. He has to muffle his groan, buried between Harry's cheeks when the tip of his cock hits the back of Harry's throat.
He doesn't know how long they stay like this, sucking and licking and slurping at each other. He can feel his orgasm building, heat swirling in the pit of his stomach. Louis pulls back with one last long lick and groans when Harry sucks hard on the head of his cock. “Gonna come if you keep doing that.”
His response is Harry getting up, careful not to knee him in the face, and suddenly finding himself on his hands and knees. His face is squashed into the cushion until he lifts himself up onto his elbows. “Jesus, Harry, warn a guy!” he gripes, but he knows the way his face heats up gives him away. His cock flexes when he sees the hungry way Harry's eyeing his arse. He's used to boys drooling over his bum, knows it's his best asset (heh) but the naked awe and appreciation on Harry's face is making him feel hot all over. “Want you to fuck me,” he says, finally.
“That's wonderful to hear, because I really want to fuck you,” Harry teases, running his massive hands along Louis' bum. “Next time, though, it'll be my turn.”
Louis' heart does a somersault in his chest at the prospect of next time, that he's not the only one who wants this to be more than a one time thing. Seriously, he's not sure what good karma he's racked up recently to deserve this boy and his huge cock, but Louis is going to keep on doing it.
Harry leans over and grabs a bottle of lube that was conveniently waiting on the coffee table. Too conveniently, if the jealousy suddenly swirling in Louis' gut has anything to say about it. “Expecting company?” he bites out before he can stop himself.
Harry looks startled at first, but a glance to the bottle on his hand seems to help him add two and two together. He drapes himself over Louis' back and kisses against his hairline. “No. Meant what I said when I told you I was going to have a lonely wank on my couch, thinking of you.”
The earnestness of his words makes Louis melt. “Now you can put it to better use,” he says in apology. Harry seems to understand because he shifts, mouthing along the knobs of Louis' spine. It relaxes him, to the point where he barely notices when Harry circles his rim with a wet finger until the tip pushes right inside. Louis takes a deep breath and bites his lip against the feeling of the finger wriggling inside of him. It burns, but in the best way.
“Jesus, you're so tight,” Harry murmurs. He starts to rut against Louis' thigh, and he can feel the sticky trail from where his cock slides across his skin.
It should be cheesy and Louis should roll his eyes and have some witty comeback at the ready, but the delicious feeling of Harry's finger moving inside of him knocks the words right out of him. He clutches at the material of the couch and rocks back, eager already. “It's been a while,” he manages to get out.
Harry hums and the stretch gets tighter, lightening shooting up Louis' spine. He can feel Harry scissoring his fingers, opening him up and stretching him out. Now he can't help but move back against the feeling. They're so long and so thick and hit him in all the right places that have Louis' toes curling.
More lube is drizzled on against his skin, a gasp leaving his mouth at the cold shock of it. But Harry pets him through it, never ceasing the slow, deep pull of his fingers. “Can't wait to fuck you,” Harry groans out. The pressure increases and Louis realizes he must have added a third finger.
Louis bites down on the arm of the couch at the feeling, the fullness and fuck, he can't wait until it's Harry's cock moving like this. “Then do it, fuck me now, waited all day for this.” Patience is not his strong suit and right now, Harry is driving him mad. He fucks back against his hand and hopes it spurs him on to finally get on with it.
It must work, because Harry pulls his fingers out and Louis whines at the sudden emptiness, earning himself a sharp smack on his arse. He swallows down a moan, but the intake of breath behind him lets him know he wasn't successful. “Well, isn't that interesting...”
No, no it's not. That's not allowed to be interesting. Not until he gets fucked through the couch first. “Shut up!” he snaps. He gets another swat for his trouble and Louis takes a breath as his cock throbs between his legs. Now was not the time to discover new kinks. “You can spank me later, just fuck me!”
Harry chuckles, the sound dancing along Louis' skin. “Only if you pull my hair.” Well.
Louis is more than sure they can work something out. It seems Harry's not as much of a cherubic angel as Louis thought and isn't that just perfect? See, even the universe thinks they're perfect for each other.
“What's the problem?” Louis asks, swinging back to look at Harry, who's just... sitting there when he should have been inside Louis like ten minutes ago.
Harry looks a bit sheepish. “You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you? Like... handy? I can go get up and get one if-”
“Look in my wallet. It's in the pocket of my sweats...wherever you threw them.”
He shifts and twists around to grab them from the floor, giving Louis a spectacular view of his torso and his cock, which is still hard and red and everything Louis wants right now. It's like he's gone from rom-com to a well-shot porno and he is so okay with that. He reaches underneath to palm at his own cock, hissing at how hard he is. “Found it?”
Harry pops back up and grins, holding the condom between his fingers as he wiggles his eyebrows. “Were you expecting company?” he teases, but Louis doesn't miss the look in his eyes. God, they've known each other for less than twenty-four hours and already they're possessive little shits. Louis wants to marry him right now.
“For emergencies. Like when fit boys about to fuck me forget to stash condoms in convenient places in their lounges.”
Harry just throws his head back and laughs, but not before slotting himself up against Louis again. He rubs his cock along the crease of his arse as his laughter turns breathless. “Now I can fuck you.”
“About damn time,” Louis grumbles, wiggling his hips. He hears the crinkle of foil and he starts getting impatient again. He's about to demand Harry hurry the fuck up when Harry drags the tip of his cock along his rim, just enough to make him groan.
He rubs the head over Louis' hole, to tease them both, before shifting to press the tip against him. Harry pushes until the head pops inside and Louis smushes his face into the couch to hide his burning face. Harry's cock feels huge and it burns, but he wants to push back against it, feel it fill him up until he bursts. It's been so long since he's been properly fucked and he just wants.
It feels like forever until Harry's completely buried in him, hips flush to Louis' arse, and he has to drag in a ragged breath. They're both panting and sweaty already. Harry holds on to his hips, waiting there, cock like a weight inside Louis. A few more deep breaths and the burn is tolerable enough that Harry can start to move. He shifts his hips back, hissing at the feeling, but Harry definitely takes the hint.
He starts with slow, shallow pushes that make Louis clench his fist into the cushion and his half-hard cock start to fill again. It hurts, but on the right side of pain that starts to subside into something better as Harry's thrusts deepen. Louis wriggles back against him, falling into the rhythm of push-pull Harry has set.
Before long, the pain is gone and Louis can finally enjoy just how full he is, how good Harry's cock feels dragging along his insides. Harry's fingers dig into his sides and he knows he's going to have red marks, which just makes heat flare in Louis' belly. He's always been a fan of souvenirs, and this time he has the added bonus of actually liking the guy leaving them. That thought spurs him on as he fucks back against Harry, pulling him in deep enough to make his eyes cross.
“Fuck, you're so tight, so good,” Harry croons as he quickens his pace. His hips slap hard against Louis and he jolts him forward with each thrust.
Louis reaches back between his legs and grabs his cock, fucking into the circle of his fist as Harry keeps dicking him harder. He shifts his hips just enough and he cries out when the head of Harry's cock snubs up against his spot. “Fuck! Right there!” He keeps rocking back, to the point where Harry stops moving and just lets him pump his hips the way he wants. It's hot, knowing that Harry's just letting him use him to get off like this.
“Right there?” Harry echoes, widening his fingers and griping tight enough to pull Louis back onto him hard enough that he bounces.
He nods, cock flexing and throbbing in his grip. He's so fucking close already and it just feels so good. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants. It tapers off into a moan when Harry picks up the pace and starts fucking him again. Louis is in absolute heaven.
Harry drapes himself across his back and shifts his hands up, reaching underneath to pinch Louis' nipples. It makes him squirm and he can feel the touches sending shockwaves through his body. “Do it, Lou, I know you're close, I can feel it,” Harry murmurs encouragingly.
It's too much. With one more thrust right into his spot and a twist of his hand, Louis' orgasm slams into him and he's coming, leaving filthy wet trails all over the cushion of Harry's couch. He'd feel guilty about it if fireworks weren't going off behind his eyelids and his cock wasn't twitching in his grip. He milks the last dregs of his orgasm out of himself and nearly collapses when he lets go, Harry still relentlessly pounding into him.
He lays there, exhausted, letting Harry use him. He's over-sensitive and ready for a nap, quite frankly, but if the sounds Harry is making are any indication, it won't be much longer. Louis musters the last bits of his strength and starts rolling his hips, trying to pull Harry over the edge with him.
“C'mon, wanna see you come, want you to fill me up,” Louis husks out, voice wrecked.
Harry keeps thrusting, his grip tightening on Louis' hips. “Can I...fuck, can I come on your arse?” he pants.
Louis doesn’t see why not. That just gives him an excuse to lure Harry into the shower. “Yeah, do it.” He lifts his head and looks over his shoulder, not wanting to miss it.
And what a sight it is. One more hard thrust and Harry pulls out, whipping the condom off and tossing it to the floor. He takes that big, beautiful dick into his hand and strokes, throwing his head back as he jerks. Hot stripes of come paint across Louis' skin and it makes him shiver, watching Harry writhe until finally he falls back against the couch.
It takes them both a few minutes to collect their breath. Louis only barely manages to keep himself hovering above the wet spot he created. Thankfully, Harry pulls him back against his chest, though it smears them both with the rapidly cooling mess on his back. “Now you've made us both messy. I guess now we'll have to shower together.”
“The horror,” Harry jokes, running the fingers of his clean hand along Louis' side. “And you're one to talk. Look what you did to my couch.”
Louis wrinkles his nose. “Please, like it matters. This is the world's worst sofa, like a little come on it is going to change the fact that it's lumpy and the pattern looks like one of me nan's old jumpers. Where did you even get this monstrosity?”
Harry shrugs as he leans forward to press a kiss to Louis' neck. “I'm pretty sure Niall and I found it on the side of the street when I moved in.”
That explains it. Still, Louis can't help but be endeared. This is the couch that allowed him to meet his future husband, of course. “Well, we'll just flip the cushion and spray it with some air freshener and it'll be fine. Now... how about that shower?”
Harry just laughs.
After they're showered and Harry lent Louis the same toothbrush from this morning, they find themselves laying naked in Harry's bed. Not only is Harry an excellent cook and fantastic in bed, he's also an amazing cuddler. He even lets Louis be the big spoon. It's all terribly domestic and Louis can't get enough.
Harry's dozing lightly in his arms when Louis picks up his phone from the bedside table. There are three missed messages he'll deal with later, but the one from Zayn catches his eye.
Made it home. See you're not here and the pizza's in tact. Guess you didn't puss out after all. Get it!
He responds with: Got it. ;) Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hot, naked boy to cuddle to sleep.
Gross. Ew. Yuck. Happy for you, wanker.
Louis doesn't respond, tossing his phone somewhere beside his clothes. He meant what he said when he had a boy to cuddle. He breathes in Harry's apple shampoo and the warm, sleepy smell of his skin, and starts to drift off. It's perfect.
Maybe he can even talk Harry into blowjobs and waffles in the morning. Not necessarily in that order.