Work Header

Let's See to It

Work Text:

Niall isn’t going to just ask for it outright or anything, like; hasn’t the guts, really, and he doesn’t want to push for too much too soon besides. He adores all the lads, bottom of his heart and all that, but Harry’s the best of the best, his closest mate above all else, and he’ll be fucked if he’s going to let some stupid feelings mess things up.

He’s always been good at compartmentalising, is the thing. He loves Harry like he loves the rest of them: always and unconditionally, their little family borne out of a shared experience since they were practically kids.

But then there’s the nights where Niall’s lying in bed, firm grip on his cock as he wanks himself off slow and steady; imagining Harry’s hands on his hips, mouth on his cock. Niall working a couple of fingers inside himself, if he fancies it, imagining they’re Harry’s flexing deep inside, thumb playing with the rim. It’s a totally separate thing. It’s been five years, and Niall still wants Harry to give his arse a thorough dicking, and Harry’s still not given any indication that he’s into cock, so.

It’s fine.

That was before, though – it was so much easier to keep it separate when Niall was all but certain that he didn’t have a shot. No use dwelling on what he could never, ever have except in, like, an abstract way; something to get him off at night before setting those feelings neatly aside, pushing them down deep where no one else’ll ever find them and never having to think about them long enough to get all fecking sad about it.

But now he’s got this all of a sudden, woke up a couple of days ago in this body that looks something like it did before and yet entirely different and Niall can’t stop thinking what if what if what if, round and round in his head.

He’s not gonna ask for it outright, but if he can turn the conversation a certain way – give subtle hints, have Harry think it’s his idea as much as Niall’s, then maybe he can have something. He doesn’t want to think about what he wants too much because it’s so within reach that it hurts, but at least even if it doesn’t happen he can know that he tried, at least a little bit, and Harry wasn’t interested, and everything will be neat and separate and something-like-easy again rather than this jumbled up mess of want.


Harry wants Niall to come over to his room to drink beer and watch crappy comedies on the telly, which is nothing new, but Niall’s trying to figure out how to dress this body, which is new. He’s been mostly covering up with his baggiest jumpers and hoodies these last couple of days but he’s getting pretty sick of wearing so much, to be honest, and besides – he wants to look good, let Harry see what he has to offer (which is weird, he’s fuckin’ weird, shouldn’t be doing this) but – he’s kinda committed, now. A restless itch under his skin he wants to scratch and he won’t be happy until he does so.

He hasn’t got any decent underwear, for a start; his boxer briefs feel stupid and awkward when there’s nothing in them, and it’s not like he can magic up a bra from fucking nowhere. He settles for going commando under a pair of trackies and a vest top, spending a couple of minutes looking at himself in the mirror and fretting about it. Do people with tits wear tight-fitting stuff without a bra on in front of other people or is it, like, weird? You can kind of see his nipples faintly, and the obvious outline of his tits, and yeah he doesn’t mind sexy (weird, this is weird) but he doesn’t want Harry to freak out or – even bloody worse – laugh at him.

He tries to remember when he’s spent time with girls just as mates and what’s considered normal to wear when you’re just chilling out in someone’s room, but he’s never been that close with a lass really – they’ve either been people he hangs out with alongside a bunch of other mates, or he’s been shagging them. He kind of feels like he’s been dropped in someone else’s life all of a sudden, where everything’s similar to before but off kilter somehow.

He’s fucking hopeless, really.


Harry doesn’t comment on Niall’s choice of clothing or on anything else when Niall knocks on his door, which Niall takes as a positive; just says alright and smiles at him, handing him a beer and then getting on the bed to sprawl back against the heap of pillows, flicking the TV on. Niall settles into his usual spot next to Harry, taking a swig of beer and it’s normal. This is what they do. His skin isn’t normally this hot, feeling like he’s burning up and prickling with anticipation but otherwise – yeah. Harry’s all easy grins and lazy movements and it’s calming, in a way.

Niall doesn’t have a plan as such, but when he shifts against the pillows, arching his back for a moment to shove another cushion behind him, Harry’s eyes flick over to him and linger over Niall’s body that little bit too long, and Niall smiles to himself and thinks that maybe he’s not a completely hopeless case after all.


It takes twenty minutes or so, which is better than Niall expected. Niall’s been trying not to expect anything at all, really, but it’s late at night and he’s lying on a bed inches from Harry and everything’s all shimmery-bright with potential.

“What does it feel like?” Harry asks him out of nowhere, turning onto his side, propped up on one elbow and gesturing lazily at Niall with his beer bottle.

“What’s what feel like?” Niall says, heart rate tripling in seconds because Harry could be going anywhere with this.

Harry takes a slow drag from the bottle in his hand, and Niall can’t help but watch his lips, glossy-wet and pliant. Niall’s honestly just a fan of anything which involves Harry putting things in his mouth. “Having tits,” Harry says, the bottle resting against his lower lip, exposing just a hint of the slick inside of his mouth; lips pulling up in a slow, dirty smile.

Niall takes a quiet breath to steady himself, shifting on the bed, glancing down at his chest and back up to Harry’s face with a smirk. “Why? You thinking of getting a pair for yerself, Haz?”

Harry laughs and looks at his tits again, unashamedly eyeing him up now. “Just wondering what they feel like, is all.” And well – fuck. Niall wants to tell him he can feel them any damn way he wants to, but he’s trying to play it cool here, see.

“Dunno. S’weird, I suppose? Not really used to it yet,” Niall shrugs, setting his beer down on the side table and sitting up properly, propped up on his hands and looking down at himself contemplatively. “Like – they’re kinda heavy when you’re not used to it? Not too big though, at least; that’d be a right pain, I reckon.”

“Yeah, they’re fuckin’ perfect,” Harry breathes, and Niall shouldn’t feel a jolt at that, shouldn’t be getting wet from that, but he is all the same. His pulse is picking up all excited and this right here is a turning point, he thinks. He wants to say something but doesn’t know what, heart pounding in his throat, words sticking there. Harry, thankfully, gets in there first.

“Can I see them?” Harry says, setting his beer aside and turning his full attention onto Niall.

Harry’s gaze is dark and intense, still a hint of a smile there, but he’s looking at Niall with a bit of uncertainty in his eyes, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck – as though he shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t be asking for things like that when in reality he’s just made Niall’s fucking life.

Niall hesitates for a second because what if he’s not good enough, what if Harry changes his mind and then peels his vest off over his head, and feels about as naked and vulnerable as he ever has in his entire life even if he’s still technically half dressed. He needs to fucking breathe right about now if he isn’t going to pass out, lightheaded from it.

And then Harry’s up on his knees in front of Niall, lifting a hand and asking can I all earnest and Niall’s heart skips a beat. He’d be so fucking hard right now, so obvious, if this was before; then again, maybe Harry can tell how turned on he is anyway, hot flush across his collarbones, breath gone ragged and uneven. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Go for it,” Niall breathes, and Harry’s so fucking gentle it’s ridiculous. He skims his knuckles lightly under the curve of each breast and then cups them carefully, Niall’s nipples hardening at the close proximity of his fingers. Harry rubs his thumbs over the firm little tips of them, watching Niall’s face unwaveringly as Niall shudders against him. “Fucking hell, Haz.”

“Are they sensitive?” Harry asks him redundantly, giving another experimental rub and flicking his thumbnail over one of them.

Niall’s back arches on reflex, breath leaving his body in a rush. “Fuck – yeah. Jesus.”

“Mine too,” Harry says thoughtfully, hands teasing down Niall’s ribcage and mapping the curve of his waist and hips. “S’like they’re wired straight to my cock or summat.”

Niall’s just gonna file that under ‘things he didn’t know about Harry that he’s hopefully going to get to use at some point in the near future’.

“Mine weren’t before, really,” Niall says. “They are now, though, feels fucking amazing.”

“Bloody gorgeous, Nialler,” Harry says, smiling at him. The thing is, Niall never really had any problem with his body the way it was before – it was decent, it was nice, and a more than acceptable number of people found him attractive. It’s not like he prefers the way this body feels, not really, but – this is the first time he’s felt like he’s got something special here, like he has something that people really want. That Harry wants. Like he’s not just average anymore, and it’s kind of overwhelming, in a nice way.

Maybe it’s Harry – maybe everyone feels like this in Harry Styles’ bed – like the centre of his fucking universe, the most desirable thing. Niall thinks that in the end, it doesn’t really matter all that much. It feels good, and if this is all he gets then it’s more than he ever had before.

Harry gets his hands on Niall’s waist, easing him down till he’s laid on his back against the pillows with Harry lying between his legs, low light from the telly casting shadows and glancing patterns off his beautiful face and toned arms, and Niall couldn’t want him more.

Niall does it before he can talk himself out of it; pulls Harry down by the nape of his neck to kiss him open and wet and hot. He wonders absently if such intense a desperation has a taste, but it’s too late now to do anything about it if it does. Harry goes with it, opens up for him and groans softly into Niall’s mouth, licking inside before pulling away, breathless.

“Bloody hell, Niall,” Harry laughs, giggling into Niall’s neck as Niall strokes his hair.

“What?” Niall says, choking back a hysterical laugh. “You think I’m gonna just let you play with my tits wi’ none of the romance? What kind of lad d’you take me for, Styles?”

Harry laughs quietly again, low in his throat, eyes crinkling in the corners and he’s so fucking beautiful it’s actually unfair. Niall grins at him, confidence bolstered by the fact that Harry’s still here and seems to want this too. He kisses him again, a slow slide of lips. “G’on then,” Niall says, nudging Harry’s head gently and arching to make his tits even more obvious.

Harry smirks at him, curls tickling against Niall’s skin as he slides down his chest, and then he gets one of Niall’s nipples in his mouth and sucks and Niall doesn’t even try to hold in the sound he makes at that, crying out with how good it feels and grasping at the duvet.

It’s not in any way a surprise, but Harry really, properly knows what he’s doing; the perfect amount of suction, a little scrape of teeth, gauging Niall’s reaction with his mouth on one nipple and his fingers lazily playing with the other before switching it up and Niall’s gonna just, like, die from this.

He understands, now, what Harry meant when he said they’re wired straight to his cock; Niall almost expects to feel his own cock jerk against his stomach with each sleek pulse of pleasure before he realises it’s just a ghost of a memory – his mind and his body not quite in tandem yet. Goes straight to his cunt though, feeling all wet and sensitive and needy, slicking the inside of his trackies when his hips jump up.

Harry holds himself up on one elbow, looking down at him. “Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” He leans down to press their lips together, teasing Niall’s tongue into his mouth as he slips his fingers down inside Niall’s trackies. He sucks on the tip of Niall’s tongue at the same moment as he gets two fingers up against his cunt; not in, but a slow drag between the lips of him, rubbing slick over his clit and making him bite his lip around a shudder.

“Christ, Haz, do that again,” Niall groans, and Harry does, fingers teasing lightly just inside and then dragging up and over again and Niall wants something, anything, inside him right now.

“So fuckin’ wet, Ni,” Harry murmurs, watching his fingers as he trails them up Niall’s stomach, glossy streaks in their wake. “That for me?”

Niall’s pretty sure that’s not a question that needs to be asked; says yeah anyway, because maybe Harry likes to hear it. Harry sits up and unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it off, and Niall just wants to get his hands all over him if he weren’t distracted by the fact that Harry’s now hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Niall’s trackies and sliding them down, Niall lifting his hips for him and letting him pull them all the way off before he has chance to feel embarrassed about being so exposed.

“Really fucking beautiful,” Harry says quietly, gentle fingers teasing over his cunt, and maybe it shouldn’t have Niall feeling so squirmy and hot and pleased, but it does – Harry’s gorgeous voice, telling him how much he wants him, Niall’s heart thudding inside his chest in anticipation.

He has to take a couple of deep breaths when Harry gets down onto his stomach on the bed, tongue wetting his lower lip and hooking his arms under Niall’s knees. Harry’s eyes flick up to him, giving him a moment to back out if he wants to, and Niall has to resist the urge to just grab him by the hair and tell him to get on with it.

When he finally does get his mouth on Niall’s cunt Niall has to bite down on his fist to keep from shouting out because holy fucking god, it’s insane. Harry sucks lightly over his clit, tongue flicking over him, and Niall’s pictured Harry between his legs hundreds of times but it’s never been quite like this.

“You tried getting yourself off yet, Ni?” Harry murmurs, looking up at him, breath hot against Niall’s cunt.

“Yeah,” Niall exhales as Harry mouths over him again. “Had a go last night, like.”

Harry grins, then spreads Niall’s cunt open with his fingers and licks languid and wet over him to make him shake. “Maybe you should tell me ‘bout it,” he says, reaching under himself to adjust his cock in his jeans as Niall tries not to bite through the edge of his tongue.

“Two fingers,” Niall says quietly, stilted by the lack of air in his lungs. “I put two fingers inside meself.”

Harry sucks softly over his clit and gives a happy little hum of approval that vibrates right through him. “Two fingers? Like this?” he smirks, still so close to Niall’s clit that the fullness of his lower lip brushes against him as he speaks. He gets two fingers against Niall’s cunt and slides them in slow till they’re as deep as they can get and shit it’s nothing like it was last night; last night was good and all, but this is on another fucking level.

Harry plays with him idly, crooking his fingers inside him and rubbing against the walls of him; scissoring them to feel the stretch and stroking him from the inside. It’s stupidly, ridiculously good. “What else?” Harry says, watching his hand working between Niall’s legs. "What did y’do with your other hand?”

“Fuck. Touched myself like – over my clit,” Niall breathes out, words shaped oddly in his mouth – someone else’s body, someone else’s words, feels like. “Made myself come like that.”

Harry splays a gentle hand against Niall’s skin where it’s soft, in the V of his thighs above where his mouth’s working him over, and presses down, massaging there and amplifying the sensations. Niall moans and presses his hips forward and Harry just goes for it, the arm still looped under Niall’s knee tightening, pressing his leg back to open him up further and eating Niall out like he can’t get enough; quiet groans against Niall’s hypersensitive skin and it’s so much, so fast.

“What were you thinking about?” Harry murmurs against him, tongue dipping inside to taste. “What got you off?”

You, Niall thinks but doesn’t say. You you you. “Getting fucked.”

Harry lets out this gorgeous, guttural groan that’s muffled and soft against Niall’s cunt and pulls his two fingers out to add a third, shoving all three inside knuckle-deep and crooking his fingers, strong and sure. It’s not a shock when Niall comes, the build to it obvious and all-consuming, but it still knocks him breathless and blanks his mind for a few seconds; undone by Harry’s tongue and the wet heat of his mouth, Harry’s fingers inside him pressed deep and flexing in time with the throb of his pulse while his other hand strokes down over Niall’s trembling legs.

Niall’s still breathless and panting when Harry gently puts his legs down and straddles Niall’s waist, up on his knees; his hand is still wet and smeared sticky from Niall’s cunt when he unzips his jeans and gets his cock out and Niall can’t even handle it, closes his eyes for a few seconds to ground himself.

“Good?” Harry smiles at him, stroking his cock lazily with one hand and leaning down to place the palm of other on Niall’s cheek, kissing him sweetly. He tastes different and Niall realises belatedly that he can taste himself in Harry’s mouth, the idea of it stupidly sexy as they slowly trade kisses back and forth.

“God, would’ya let – would’ya let me suck you off?” Niall says; he can see Harry’s hand working over the fat length of his prick out of the corner of his eye, absolutely fucking gorgeous, and he needs this, feels like he’s got nothing to lose by asking. Harry must know though, by now, is the thing – it’s Niall who’s changed, and Harry’s still Harry. It’s no secret amongst the band that Niall likes blokes sometimes, but there’s no reason why Niall in this body would want to suck Harry off any more or less than he did before. That’s a discussion for another day or preferably never, though.

“Really? Yeah,” Harry says, and Niall’s mouth waters as he watches Harry thumb over the head, precome pearling out of the slit and making Niall ache to get a taste. “How did you want to – ?”

“Like this s’fine,” Niall says, sitting up a bit so he’s half lying, half sitting against the headboard and pillows, not even caring how blatant it is that he’s absolutely gagging for it.

“Beautiful, fuckin’ gorgeous, Nialler,” Harry says softly, feeding his cock into Niall’s willing mouth, thumbing over his cheekbone and carding gentle fingers through Niall’s hair. Niall’s wanted this for so fucking long and it’s amazing, the fat heft of Harry’s cock making his jaw ache, Harry thrusting slowly in and out with Niall’s hands on his hips to control the pace. “So good at that Ni, god, your bloody lovely mouth on my cock. Absolutely perfect.”

Niall sucks harder and enjoys the way Harry whimpers softly when he presses into Niall’s throat, Niall controlling the way he gags around him. When Niall looks up at him, Harry’s hips stutter slightly, and Niall simply groans round him and sucks harder.

“Fuck, Ni,” Harry says, gripping his cock and pulling out, letting the head rub messily over Niall’s lower lip and swallowing thickly, eyes hungry. Climbing off to lie on the bed for a moment, Harry pulls his jeans off and then rolls onto his side to kiss Niall deep and intense, his cock a hard, hot line against Niall’s hip. He rolls them so Niall’s on his back with Harry on top of him and gets a couple of fingers between Niall’s legs again, dipping inside to feel how slick he is. He’s so dripping with it that when Harry pulls his fingers out a trail of wet follows, a sticky string connecting them before snapping off. Harry sucks his fingers clean and kisses Niall briefly to share the taste.

“Fuck me,” Niall says, bracketing Harry with his legs. “Honestly, just do it, Haz.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, breathless, “fuck, lemme just,” and he scrambles off to get a condom from the bedside drawer. His hair is tousled and wild, eyes dark, and Niall wants Harry to just fucking ruin him. “Are y’like – totally sure?”

“Do I look like I’m not bloody sure? Stop asking stupid fecking questions,” Niall groans, getting both of them laughing.

“Alright, alright,” Harry says. “I just – don’t want to hurt you or owt, if you’ve not tried it like this before.”

And yeah, it kind of is like a first time in a way, Niall supposes, but it’s not like it’s the first time he’s had a good shagging – just a bit different is all. Harry’s big though. Probably best to start out slow.

Harry sees him hesitate and think it over for a second and sits back against the headboard, rolling the condom on. “You should get on top of me, like this,” Harry says. “C’mon, you can get used to it like this and then we’ll see where it goes after.” He holds a hand out and Niall swings a leg over his thighs, one of Harry’s hands on his waist to steady him and the other positioning his cock underneath him.

He sinks down slowly, wet leaking down his thighs where he’s squeezed tight around Harry’s cock, and it’s a weird stretch – not like being fucked in the arse at all, a different kind of ache as he adjusts. He doesn’t mind the hurt, though; gets him wetter, makes him hope he can still feel it tomorrow.

“Shh, there you go,” Harry murmurs as Niall gets almost all of the way down, pressing his lips to Harry’s shoulder to bite back the sounds he wants to make. Harry shifts his hips up a bit, jostling him, and they both groan at that, exquisite friction as they slide together.

It’s a really fucking good position to kiss, and Niall does, Harry smiling and holding him close as Niall rolls his hips experimentally. “Fuck, s’nice,” Niall shudders, tightening his muscles around Harry’s cock to see what happens and discovering it makes Harry moan beautifully, gripping Niall’s hips and pulling him down onto his cock till he’s balls deep in there.

Harry lets Niall take his time, opening up and relaxing around him as he rides his cock slowly. They kiss slowly, breathing together, and it’s like all this desperate space inside Niall is finally full up. It’s intimate without being weird or awkward – just this, in this moment, and he’s not gonna overthink the whole thing like a tit because fuck knows he should just take something for granted for once in his life.

Harry gets an arm around his middle to press their bodies close; like this, Niall can get his tits up against Harry’s chest and it’s proper fucking nice. He remembers what Harry said earlier and presses up against Harry’s nipples before working a hand in between them to trail his fingers across his chest, pinching lightly at Harry’s nipple to make him gasp and buck his hips up.

“You have no idea how bloody good you feel,” Harry groans. “Fuckin’ hell, Ni. Like y’were made for riding my cock.” It’s just dirty talk, Niall tells himself, just one of many things that Harry’s probably told countless people before but it burns, glows beautifully, like fire under his skin.

“God, c’mon,” Niall says, fingers digging into Harry’s back, surging forward to kiss him open-mouthed and filthy. “Shag me proper, get me on my back, like.”

Harry wastes no time in lifting Niall bodily off his cock and rolling them over, crowding in close on top of him. “Ready?” Harry says, amused tilt to his lips, snubbing the head of his cock against Niall’s cunt a couple of times, rubbing wetly over his clit and then just leaving it there, right on the edge but not pushing inside.

Yeah, I’m ready, come the fuck on,” Niall begs him, trying to shove his hips forward to get him inside.

Harry just laughs, low and deep, and gets Niall’s legs over his shoulders. He waits, waits until Niall’s going absolutely mad with it, and then he pushes in deep and every thought in Niall’s head flies elsewhere.

He’s pinned in place, Harry on top of him and he just fucking goes at it, pounding into him hard until Niall’s gasping out broken-off words, swearing under his breath. He can’t even remember the last time he was shagged so hard. Harry lets his legs drop from his shoulders after while, lets Niall get his heels on the bed as Harry pushes inside in long, steady thrusts.

“Can you come like this?” Harry pants, hoisting Niall’s hips up a bit and shoving in deep.

“Not sure,” Niall gasps, “fuck, I dunno, I’m close.” It’s there, just out of reach; he can’t think straight and he just needs something else but he doesn’t know what.

Except Harry knows, Harry always fucking knows; drapes the length of his body against Niall’s and pulls Niall’s legs up around his waist, rocking forward against him. “Like this,” Harry says breathlessly, short little thrusts pressed deep inside. “Y’can grind up against me like this, c’mon, want to feel you come like this.”

It’s intense as anything, Harry pressed deep and rocking down into him as Niall grinds against the base of his cock and he comes with Harry’s breath against his ear and Harry’s hand pinning his wrist to the bed, Niall shaking apart for what feels like an endless peak of full-body pleasure.

His head’s spinning, feeling spacey and elated, and Harry’s still fucking him. Niall’s sensitive and sore in the absolute best way.

“Too much?” Harry says, looking wrecked in a way that suggests he’s not far off coming himself.

“Nah,” Niall grins up at him, stretching his arms above his head. “Y’can keep fucking me, it’s good. So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Harry says shakily.

“Best of me life,” Niall says, because this might be his one chance to be honest about it, and it is, the absolute fucking best.

Harry positively beams at him, sweat on his back and his neck and his biceps taut where he’s been holding himself up for so long.

Niall teases a hand down over Harry’s back, groping at his arse and trailing a finger over his hole. “You ever been fingered before?” Niall asks him, and Harry pushes in deep and whimpers again Niall’s neck as he comes, which – Niall didn’t expect him to be quite that easy, and it’s really fucking hot. “Fuck, Haz, I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Niall laughs.

“That would be a yes,” Harry grins, all flushed and breathless and gorgeous when he pulls out unsteadily and disposes of the condom, dropping down on his back next to Niall, legs and arms taking up every bit of space which Niall isn’t. Niall wants to smile like a fucking idiot, still buzzing from the couple of mind-blowing orgasms he’s just had.

“D’you want to watch a film or summat?” Harry says easily, like a mate. Hands Niall a fresh beer, like a mate. Smiles at him, like a mate.

And if Niall’s still got this, and never gets anything more, then it’s enough (it has to be) and he’s happy (because he wants to be).


“M’not awake yet, go away,” Niall mumbles, reaching over from where he’s laid on his side to bat at the hands stroking down over his back. It’s not entirely true, he’s been drifting in and out of sleep for a while now, but he feels like if he gets up then that’s the end of this and he just wants a few more minutes before it’s all over.

“Sorry, Ni,” Harry’s voice comes from behind him, all amused and sleep-rough. “Just looking at you. God, I really want to fuck you again.” Niall is definitely, one hundred per cent awake after that; breathes out well fuckin’ do it then, and goes over easy when Harry encourages him over onto his stomach with a warm, strong hand on his hip. He hears Harry ripping open a condom packet behind him and then he’s rubbing a couple of spit-slick fingers against his cunt making sure Niall’s ready enough before pushing inside. Niall can just lie there and take it, pressed between the weight of Harry’s body and the sleep-warm sheets, quiet except for their soft-gasped breaths and the sound of Harry’s cock sliding all slick inside his tight wet cunt.

Niall can’t remember a time when waking up felt this good.


They stumble down to breakfast over half an hour late, trying not to look well-fucked and utterly failing. When the other lads make snarky comments and poke Niall playfully in the ribs he holds up a middle finger, rolling his eyes and trying not to grin as he bites into his toast.

“Oi, leave our Nialler alone,” Harry says warmly, pulling Niall into his side with a protective arm around his waist.

“You not figured out a way to change back yet, Ni?” Louis says, perched on the counter and absently flicking the switch on the kettle up and down.

“Nah, I’ll get it sorted, mate” Niall says.

“Right,” Louis snorts, smirking at him and swinging his feet back and forth, something sharp and knowing in his gaze.

When Niall sits down at the table to eat, Harry sits beside him, leg pressed warm up against him and foot nudging at his ankle, curls a mess where Niall’s run his fingers through them and lips kiss-swollen and pretty.

Niall can fix this tomorrow, or whatever. Just one more day of this, now that he’s had a taste; he just needs that little bit more before things go back to normal.

It’s fine.