Archive of Our Own

Niall usually checks the mail in the morning while Harry makes coffee, tea, and toast, but by chance, Niall wakes up first on the Tuesday in question. By the time Harry rolls out of bed at 8:15 and follows his nose to the kitchen, Niall is in the middle of an English (though he likes to call it Irish even though it’s starting to resemble American) breakfast, so Harry goes to check the letterbox-- well, the mail box as it’s called here in LA-- instead.

It’s interesting how coincidences work-- fate, rather, if you believe in it (and Harry does). Fate brought Niall and him to the X Factor UK in 2010, and though they didn’t meet and neither of them made it very far, they both found their ways to London shortly after, and to LA after that where their paths finally crossed when Harry tripped over Niall’s mate’s dog while trying to walk down a crowded sidewalk.

Harry spent no less than five minutes apologizing-- not to the owner, but to the dog-- while a voice beside him chuckled. It should have felt weird, should have felt like he was being laughed at, but it didn’t even occur to him then, not when Harry became captivated by the bright blue eyes of the guy smiling down at him. His whole face was lit up in amusement, making his sun blushed nose crinkled and his braced teeth show. Harry couldn’t tear his gaze away from him, especially not after his warm palm slid into Harry’s after he introduced himself and asked Harry to stay a while.

Niall asked for Harry’s number before they parted ways that evening, and even though it took them another six months (or maybe longer) to figure out they were gone for each other, they both cite that day as their anniversary, only remembering the date exactly because Harry’d written about meeting a cute boy in his journal.

And that led them here, to Niall making breakfast on a Tuesday morning five years after-the-fact, and Harry being the one pulling a self-sealing yellow mailer out of the mailbox.

It’s strange to say the least, and Harry hesitates when he reaches to close the box-- is this really meant for one of them? All of the mail they receive is from friends, family, or billers; no one else knows their address (it’s not like they’re celebrities by any means, but they’re both known writers in the popular music industry; they’re doing well for themselves, well enough to be wary about not giving out their home address).

Harry studies the scrawl on the front of the package as he goes back inside. He kicks the front door shut behind him, toes his shoes off in the entryway, and shuffles down the hall to the kitchen, all the while still focused on his name written in a stranger’s handwriting.

“What’s that, petal?”

Niall stands from his position perched against the edge of the island and plants a kiss to Harry’s cheek. Breakfast is already on the table, Harry realizes once he looks up. Niall was waiting for him to come back inside before sitting down to eat.

“Not sure,” he mumbles, tilting his chin down to kiss Niall on the mouth. It’s warm and sweet and Niall’s stubble scratches his bottom lip and Harry’s mind goes from mysterious mail to NiallNiallNiall.

“Well let’s have a look,” Niall chuckles lowly against Harry’s mouth, puckering his lips a couple more times to give Harry his fix before stepping back, one hand on his boyfriend’s waist, the other reaching for the envelope.

“No,” Harry insists-- whines more like-- and tosses the package like a frisbee to land on the center of the table. “It’s probably just junk mail.” He lowers his voice as he speaks, attempting to be sultry as he draws Niall back in by his hips, lips already dangerously near to closing in on Niall’s once more.

“H,” Niall laughs, “as much as I’d love to kiss ya, you’re being a bit suspicious.” Niall ducks to the side quickly when Harry tries to silence him with affection, and before Harry can catch him, he’s rounding the table to pick up and tear open the top of the large envelope.

“So…?” Harry asks, bracing his hands on the back of the chair in front of him as Niall’s eyebrows furrow while he scans the first page of what seems to be an entire stack of documents.

“Who’s James Fenton?”

“The poet?”

“Huh?” Niall looks up at Harry with the same tight expression, and then shakes his head. “No, not the poet. Wait, unless--” Niall says, confused. “Did the poet send you mail?”

“No. I mean,” Harry tilts his head slightly, gaze drifting over Niall’s shoulder as he thinks. He’s reached out to a couple of poets inquiring about sampling their pieces in a song or two, but not James Fenton. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s James Fenton in Illinois.”

“Oh. Oh yeah!” Harry’s head snaps back up to the right position and he smiles brightly at Niall. “I bought a farm.”

“You--” Niall’s eye widen and his eyebrows twitch up incredulously. “You what, Harry?”

“I… bought a farm?” Harry says softer through half-pouted lips like a child being scolded by his mum. He shrugs his shoulders when Niall stares at him, stiff as a board, waiting for Harry to say he’s kidding or explain why he’s done it.

There’s none of that, though.

Niall stares at him in disbelief, mouth gaping like a fish; ‘a cute fish,’ Harry thinks, ‘an angry cute fish, though.’

Harry, sheepish under Niall’s glare, pulls out his chair and sits in front of the plate prepared for him.

Niall doesn’t move; doesn’t take the bait to pretend like nothing’s happened.

“These eggs are good,” Harry says a minute later, pretending that Niall’s face isn’t getting redder by the second.

“Why did you buy a farm?” Niall asks after, calmly. It’s eerie-- it always is when he does this-- that his face doesn’t match his tone of voice. Harry freezes up, heart thumping hard in his chest as he stares down at his plate.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, picking at his food with a fork.

“Harry, that’s not like you. You overthink everything, even down to what you post on Instagram, for fuck’s sake.” There’s a bite creeping into Niall’s voice, and Harry looks up finally, surprised to hear Niall’s tone moving toward genuine anger.

“Why did you buy a farm?” he asks again, but the edge is gone. Harry knows Niall too well to think he’s off the hook. Niall is trying to keep calm for his own sake; neither of them like arguing, but that doesn’t mean they never do. They get a bit ridiculous when they argue, and Harry’s ‘I did it without thinking’ is never a good enough reason for Niall’s meticulous and calculating brain to wrap around.

“I just… I think I was drunk.” Harry shrugs again and Niall smacks the envelope down onto the table and braces his hands on his hips.

“That’s not a fucking excuse,” he says, and although he’s not yelling yet, Harry knows he probably wants to based just on the way he’s standing and his chest is heaving slowly.

“Did you even think to ask me about this? That’s a big decision to make, Harry. What do you even need a farm for?”

Harry lays his fork down slowly and swallows thickly, balling his fists protectively where they sit on the table-- it’s not like he’s going to do anything violent or even suggestive of physically fighting, but he does it because over the years he’s caught onto the nervous habit of Niall’s, to close his fingers together and feel them against his palm to anchor himself somehow.

He looks back down at the table and mumbles “I dunno. It might be fun.”

“Fun? Do you intend on running a farm? Do you have any idea how hard that is?”

“Well, I remember him saying something about it not being an active farm, but we could get chickens and a couple of goats or a cow-- it would be so fun,” Harry says, physically and emotionally perking up, “And I could start a garden and we could grow our own food--

“Oh, come on, Niall,” Harry whines when Niall’s expression turns to a scowl. “I may not know what I’m doing right now, but we’ll figure it out. Give me a break--”

“Give you a break, Harry?!” Niall’s voice is breathy and strained as he throws his hands up, catching a fistful of his hair with one, and the back of the chair with the other. “You really did the whole transaction without me? Bought a farm in Illinois of all fucking places, without me. Do you have any idea how big of a deal this is, ‘cause you’re not acting like it.”

“I didn’t do the whole transaction when I was drunk,” Harry reassures in his softest voice. The silence that hangs around each one of his words is thick and frigid. “I just asked for the paperwork, okay?” Harry slowly rises to his feet, giving Niall his most innocent look. “And then I forgot about it. Nothing is set in stone, love.”

They stare at each other for a moment, Niall frowning, and Harry pouting, until Niall finally sighs and throws the envelope into the trash can at the end of the counter.

“Why do you insist on giving me a bloody heart attack,” he huffs. “Fuckin’ saying you bought a farm and shite-- they can find someone else to buy,” he concludes, dropping into his seat. “Now eat.” Niall punctuates his final word like a warning, pointing his fork at Harry, mad though never the one to throw a cold shoulder or change their routine over a row no matter how big it may be. His right hand still finds Harry’s left on the tabletop; he still cleans up, dries the plates after Harry scrubs them; he still gives him a sweet kiss and a murmured “I love you” before leaving for the studio.

Harry loves that about Niall, but it also makes him feel guilt weighing heavily in his throat and the pit of his stomach when he pulls the papers out of the envelope in the trash and files them away in his office to look at later.

x

Niall and Harry have a heart to heart when Niall gets home that evening. Harry meets him at the door with a fresh pout and arms already reaching to wrap around his shoulders before Niall’s coat is hung on the rack beside the door. Niall hums when their arms firmly twist around each other, and he immediately relaxes, the tension in his body from a long, stressful day in the studio melting away as Harry pecks small kisses all across his face and jaw.

They stay like that for a while; Harry, ever the affectionate one, spreading love (and spit) all over Niall, while Niall lazily plants a kiss wherever he can reach, preferring for the time being to focus on being loved on rather than loving on his partner.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry whispers against Niall’s jaw once he’s sure he’s kissed every inch of Niall’s face at least twice.

“No, pet,” Niall says softly, “can’t stay mad at you. But was I annoyed with you this morning? Yes, absolutely, and I was hurt that you’d make such a big decision without me,” Niall mumbles into the side of Harry’s head, giving him a small kiss in front of his ear. “We’re a partnership, you know that. You can’t just go running around trying to buy farms without me, you bugger.”

“I know,” Harry whines softly, “I just… thought we could use a little change, you know? We’re different than we used to be, we’re getting all… LA.”

Niall sighs, long and slow. Harry can feel one of his hands sliding to rest at the center of Harry’s back, palm flat against his spine.

“I know, pet. I don’t like it either,” he says gently. “But this just isn’t the time, alright?”

“I love you,” Harry folds. He tucks his face down against Niall’s neck and doesn’t push it; doesn’t say what’s on his mind-- ‘if now’s not the time, then when is it?’-- just stays quiet.

They’re swaying somehow without either of them knowing why, almost like they’re dancing with no music, and Niall hums a little tune that Harry hasn’t heard before.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.”

“It’s not a competition,” Harry pouts, raising his head to look at Niall, but only because he lost. Whenever he gets to say ‘I love you more,’ he boasts and holds it like an honor to get to claim more love over Niall than what Niall has on him.

“I know it’s not,” Niall chuckles. A soft, fond smile overtakes his face as he looks at Harry. He stops humming but keeps them swaying. “Love is not a battlefield or a war or whatever,” he supplies, taking Harry’s arm from around his neck to hover at their sides. He intertwines their hands and holds their arms up so they look like they’re proper dancing as they sway and begin to turn.

“Is it a dance?” Harry asks with a giggle.

“It can be. It’s a partnership; give and take on both parts. It doesn’t work if both parties aren’t completely involved.” Niall’s voice trails off as he leans in for another kiss, and Harry accepts it eagerly, sighing contentedly against Niall’s lips.

“And I love dancing with you,” Niall sets up, and Harry responds

“And I love dancing with you more.”

x

Harry hates lying to Niall; hates sneaking around, going to meet up with James Fenton when he’s supposed to be at yoga; hates claiming he’s looking up vacation spots or inspiration for writing when really he’s looking at Illinois travel sites to get a feel of what the state is like.

Most of all, Harry hates that Niall is too smart to not notice that something is up with him.

Niall stands in the open doorway of their shared study silently, looking over Harry’s shoulder unbeknownst to him. He hasn’t got the greatest eyesight, but he can tell Harry’s looking at a city, and in another tab that he switches to he’s looking at cars. Neither of these things are particularly alarming, but Harry always tells Niall when he wants to visit someplace new or buy something, even if it’s as small as a pack of gum. Why would he hide in his study? Why not sit on Niall’s lap on the couch and browse these things on his phone?

This isn’t the first time this has happened, either. First Harry started getting more mail than usual. Instead of let Niall collect it as he did more often than not, Harry insisted things like Niall deserved another minute in bed or he just wanted to stretch his legs, and he’d be out the door before Niall could protest. If Niall ever asked where it went afterward, Harry would shrug and say nothing was urgent so he filed it in the office to look at later.

Then it was Harry not being where he claimed. One time he said he was out to lunch with Nick, but then Niall ran into Nick in a shop. Next it was saying he was going to yoga class, but then his friend from yoga called Niall to ask where Harry’d been the past few weeks because he hadn’t been showing up to class like Niall thought he was.

Then it was on their shared off day where Harry, rather than take full advantage of being alone with his boyfriend for a whole day, decided to go out for a few hours right in the middle of the day and then came back smelling like someone else’s cologne and cigarettes.

Niall doesn’t like fighting-- he never likes to fight, so every time he caught Harry in a lie, he’d swallow it down, consider maybe Harry was planning a surprise for Niall’s birthday-- but then September 13th came and went, and Harry kept acting weird. Niall couldn’t bite his tongue forever, and it was nearing the end of the month by the time he finally broke, ready to face any argument to find out what’s been going on.

So here he is, watching an unassuming Harry do what seems like menial searches while cooped away as though he’s on a top secret mission.

“Are you cheating on me or something?” Niall finally asks, making his presence known. Harry visibly jumps and audibly gasps, clapping one hand over his heart, and one on his laptop screen, swatting it down so that it closes and his webpages are hidden.

“God, you scared the shit out of me,” Harry says, turning his swivel chair to face Niall. “But no, love, what the fuck? You know I wouldn’t do that, I would never cheat on you.” Harry keeps one hand on his heart to show his promise while relaxing back in his seat, leaving his other hand to fumble with the bottom hem of his shirt in front of his hip.

He only fumbles when he’s nervous, Niall knows that. Harry’s usually cool and still, unlike Niall’s own constant state of being mildly anxious.

“Then what are you doing all the time, H? You're sneaking about and you’re always jumpy when I get near your phone or your computer and I don't like it.” Niall crosses his arms, stays a strong, solid presence in the doorway, not leaning on the frame casually, and not coming in closer.

He’s being defensive, Harry realizes. It’s one of Niall’s many handsome looks and Harry loves seeing it from behind or maybe the side when Niall barks at someone to stop eyeing up his man at a pub after a few pints, but he doesn’t so much like being on the receiving end of the glare.

“Well…” Harry drawls, moving to sit up straight and twiddle his thumbs in his lap. “Remember a couple of months ago when I got mail… about that farm?”

Niall’s face falls as fast as his arms slide down to his sides.

“Harry,” he warns, stern look overcoming his face. His hands brace low on his hips, and Harry’s eye trace all his soft lines and hard edges-- God, he’s still so attractive even when he’s staring down his nose like a mother scolding her child.

“Harry!” Niall says again, snapping him out of his daze.

“Sorry, got lost in your eyes for a second.”

“Be serious, Harry! No more fucking deflecting, no lying.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry insists, leaning forward in his chair, clasping both of his hands in his lap. “I’m serious, I swear… but what was the question?”

“I can’t fucking believe you right now!” Niall throws his hands up as he yells. Harry pales, his expression falling into something resembling shock when Niall stomps across the room, firmly planting both of his hands on the armrests on either side of Harry’s chair once he reaches it. Their faces are inches apart and Harry wants nothing more than to lean in for a kiss and diffuse the tension, but Niall’s eyes are so, so angry that he freezes in his spot.

Niall has never been like this to him.

“Tell me,” Niall demands, “just yes or no: did you go behind my back and buy that farm?”

Harry gulps, feels his hands tremble as he slowly reaches out. He nods slowly, a small “yes” falling from his mouth right as his fingertips brush at Niall’s shirt, but Niall jumps back, stands up straight with his hands fisting in his hair as he turns away.

“Unbe-fucking-lievable!” he shouts.

“It’s such a nice place, Niall--”

“How would you know?! You've never bloody been there, Haz!”

“Well, I-- I know, but,” Harry says softly, getting up from his chair, “we've been fixing it up.”

“We?” Niall turns back, his brow quirked up. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest again as Harry approaches. “Who is ‘we’?”

“Well, me… or… actually, Niall… I have a crew working on it. And they keep me updated every day and it's almost done, Ni!” Harry speeds up when Niall’s expression sours, “Just enough so that when we move in we can decorate it and change it as we please.”

“Excuse me? When we do what?”

“It’ll be fun, I promise. We need a change--”

“No, this isn’t gonna be fucking fun, Harry! You lied to me. You lied and you bought a bloody farm in another fucking state in the middle of nowhere even though you knew I didn’t want you to, and now you expect me to pack up my entire life and fucking go with you?!”

“Niall-- no! Niall, please.” Harry’s voice breaks down into sobs. “Please don’t say that.” Niall’s never yelled at him like this before, and it scares the shit out of him, frankly, to be spoken to so harshly by the one who means the most to you-- especially when everything they’re saying is right, when you know you’re in the wrong and there’s no going back.

“Please come with me, please don’t let this be the end-- not like this! I love you too much, Niall please, please, please, please!” Harry begs, grasping at anything he can-- Niall’s arms, his shirt, his shoulders when he starts to turn away. He’s frantic, clawing and blindly grabbing as Niall swats him back, his vision blurry and unfocused. He doesn’t stop begging until Niall stop pushing and allows Harry grab onto him and attach himself with all his might.

“Harry, stop, calm down. I’m not-- Harry, really,” Niall sighs, sliding his hands beneath Harry’s shirt to glide across his bare skin, pressing warm against his back as he sobs into Niall’s collar. “You’re gonna hyperventilate, pet, calm down. Take a deep breath for me.”

“No,” Harry whines, voice feeble and weak. “How am I supposed to calm down when you’re gonna leave me?”

“Harry, I’m not gonna leave you over this… but I’m not moving to your farm either, especially not after you lied to me about it for two months. God, I am so mad at you, but I just… I’m not gonna break up with you, okay? I love you, always.”

“Niall,” Harry sniffles, lifting his head. His palms find Niall’s cheeks and hold his head steady so he has no choice but to look at Harry. “You can’t tell me you wanna stay here. I know you don’t like LA, okay? I know you only stayed here because I wanted to and I hate to feel like I’ve brought you somewhere you don’t like, but I really think the farm will be good for us.

“We’ll get this city life out of our systems, have-- have some chickens,” he snivels, “maybe a cute little barn cat, we’ll have a proper garden, and so much land, Niall. It’s private and has its own lake and some forest and–”

“You should have talked to me about this, Harry.” Niall’s expression is blank. His palms slide out from under Harry’s shirt. “You can’t make decisions like this without me. This isn’t a ‘Harry’ decision.”

“I know, but Ni--”

“‘But’ nothing. That’s it, plain and simple. You shouldn’t have made this decision alone; you betrayed my trust, Harry.” Harry’s heart falls, the tears well up in his eyes again and he whimpers as he drops his head back to the hidden comfort of Niall’s shoulder, and Niall holds him again, hesitant arms wrapping around his waist.

“Can I at least show it to you?”

“Harry,” Niall sighs, retracting himself from the embrace he’d just accepted.

“Please, please just look,” Harry begs softly, stopping Niall at an arm’s distance away by planting his hands firmly on his shoulders.

They share a locked stare. Niall’s always been the stern one, but Harry is very persistent. They both know this stare could go on for an hour if no one folds.

“Niall, please. This means so much to me; I want this to be our home,” Harry admits, sliding one hand down Niall’s arm to grab his wrist and tug him toward the desk. They resemble a toddler trying to tug their parent across the room since Harry doesn’t stop trying and Niall is adamant about anchoring himself to the ground, here in LA where they stand, refusing to move at all toward the laptop or the farm.

“I can imagine growing old here with you; I can already see children here and grandchildren,” Harry keeps on, “and we can have Christmas and Thanksgiving with our families and host them ‘cause we’ll have guest rooms. It’ll be beautiful, Niall.”

Niall grabs the hand around his wrist and pulls, making Harry stumble toward him, meeting Niall in the middle.

“You mean that?” Niall asks softly. His expression is something different now; it’s softer, fond again, and Harry stares in awe at Niall, and Niall stares back. “You wanna grow old with me?”

“Haven’t I told you that before?” Harry takes both of Niall’s hands, links their fingers together, and steps closer until their noses can bump together. "Niall, you’re it for me. I want you and no one else for the rest of my life. I want your kids to be my kids and I want your family to be my family and I just want you and a place to be ours.” Harry feels tears springing back into his eyes. He sighs a shaking breath and raises one hand, still clasped with Niall’s to brush the tears away before they spill.

“Please, love,” he begins again, “look at this house and tell me you can’t see us there, see our families, see our family there. If you really hate it, I’ll sell it… might even make some more on it than I spent, I dunno,” Harry shrugs, looking down at the closed screen. “I just want you to look at it.”

“Okay,” Niall says after a beat-- a long pause of staring at Harry, of considering how much this must mean to him to go behind Niall’s back for so long, a pause of thinking about their future.

Is he willing to let this end their relationship? Despite the hurt, no. Absolutely not. Harry may be a fool but he takes Niall out of his comfort zone and maybe that’s what they need.

“Okay,” Niall sighs softly. “Show me, pet. Let’s see about this house.”

Niall may still be victim to Harry’s charm even five years into their relationship, but the hurt and the anger is still there, inside.

“Can we go to bed?” Harry asks, letting go of one of Niall’s hands to take his laptop from the desk and clutch it to his chest. “For a cuddle, yeah?”

Niall agrees, leading Harry out of the room with an arm each stretched between them.

They burrow under the blankets, Niall lying on his back with Harry’s laptop perched on his chest, and Harry tucked into his side. Harry’s the one to click through the photos, first showing Niall the “before” pictures on the real estate site, and then showing him the updated pictures that his contractors sent him most recently.

A two story house, white all around the outside with a gray tin roof; a covered porch that wraps around the side of the house; window boxes full of flowers; refinished hardwood throughout the entire house; an updated, modern kitchen; a room with a grand piano; four bedrooms, four bathrooms; so much space, and that’s just the start of it.

It’s… kind of nice, actually. But being a nice house doesn’t take away the sting of what Harry’s done or what he’s asking Niall to give up by moving there.

“Harry--”

“Please, Ni,” Harry interrupts, closing his laptop and moving it to the edge of the bed on Niall’s other side, using this as an opportunity to crawl on top of his boyfriend. “Just think about it for a couple of days-- or a week or a month, I don’t care. Just think about it, please? For me?”

“Okay.” Niall nods, leans in to kiss Harry’s forehead, and wrap both of his arms around him. Harry wiggles around excitedly in Niall’s arms, and if he weren’t still overcoming the shock of their confrontation, he could have squealed. Instead he silently grins into Niall’s neck for no more than two minutes before mumbling

“So… do you wanna have make-up sex?”

“Oh my god, Harry,” Niall chortles, turning his head away. “Way to change the subject.”

“I’m serious!”

“I know you are, is the thing with that. When are you not serious about sex?” Niall rolls his eyes playfully, pinches Harry’s bum and pretends to fall asleep (complete with dramatic snores and his head dramatically tossed to the side) when Harry starts to kiss his neck.

“C’mon, Haz, not tonight. Let’s just go to bed.”

Harry gives in without question or protest-- no means no, after all, and he’s never gonna push Niall so far in one day.

Niall turns them on their sides so Harry can twist and shuffle until he’s the little spoon; he says it’s his favorite way to cuddle even though he can never hold it longer than 15 minutes before he’s squirming and kicking to reposition himself and get more comfortable. They almost always drift around in their sleep anyway, leaving Niall on his back and Harry on his stomach beside him, cheek squished against Niall’s shoulder or chest about nine times out of ten.

Harry’s not in bed in the morning when Niall wakes up-- he’s already in the kitchen making breakfast no doubt-- and taking advantage of this solitude, Niall has a peek at the pictures of the farm on Harry’s computer again before he goes to join his man in the kitchen.

x

“Let me carry you in!”

“What? No.”

“What? Why not? It’s tradition, Ni!”

“Whose tradition?”

“It’s an American tradition-- I think. It’s in all the rom-coms, Niall! A man’s supposed to carry his wife over the threshold the first time she enters their house for, like, luck or summat.”

“Well,” Niall says, glancing around between them and the open door, “there’s no wife here, so we’re good.” Niall pats Harry’s chest and walks in, but only gets a step before Harry’s whining.

“Niall!” he whines, “Let me be the wife, then. Carry me in! Pretty please , love? It’ll be so sweet , Ni. This is our first home together-- not just a house. A home! Come on, have some fun!”

Niall rolls his eyes and goes back to the threshold. He crosses it dramatically with an over exaggerated step and crouches down. Harry watches him curiously as he wraps his arms around Harry’s thighs and heaves. Harry yelps as he’s forced to lean over Niall’s shoulder as he’s carried into the house, dangling upside down.

“Niall,” he laughs, drawing his name out in two distorted syllables, patting Niall’s arse several times as he kicks his legs, just to be difficult. “This isn’t how they do it, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” Niall groans, trying to carefully put Harry back on his feet once they’re in the house. “This is how we’re doing it.”

Harry tries to pout at him, but his hair is entirely covering his face from his time upside down-- even his lips are covered. Niall laughs and brushes away strands and curls until just Harry’s lips and nose are clear, then he leans in for a short kiss. It could have been longer, but the curtain of hair is tickling both of them, so Harry pulls back, shakes his head similar to a dog, and then uses his hands to part his hair and flip it back into place.

After that, though, Harry’s lips are back on Niall’s.

“We have a house,” Harry whispers against Niall’s mouth. Niall half-opens his eyes to measure up the look on Harry’s face; his eyes are watery and bright-- he’s so excited, it’s clear-- and Niall smiles in contagion.

“Yeah, pet. We do.” Though he smiles, and he is happy that Harry is happy, Niall doesn’t feel as excited and inspired as his partner. He’s still uneasy about this place, unconvinced that it’s the right move for them to make at this point in their lives-- in their careers -- but he’s here anyway. For Harry.

“How about we look around?” Harry says with a faltering smile as he reads straight through Niall’s strained grin and the way his gaze drifts away and becomes unfocused.

“Sure,” Niall agrees, standing back from Harry. “This the living room then?”

“Yeah,” Harry says softly, reaching to link his right hand with Niall’s left. “I was thinking we could get a big L-shaped sofa to put against these two walls,” Harry starts, waving his free hand wherever he pleases as he describes to Niall how he imagines the room.

“And I want one of those fancy elaborate rugs to put in the middle to tie it all in.”

“You mean ‘ornate’?” Niall chuckles. He supposes a nice red rug would look alright with the dark wood floors.

Harry looks over at him and blinks a couple of times before muttering “yeah, probably.”

“Alright,” Niall chuckles, “we’ll come back to that once the furniture we already owns gets here, yeah?”

Harry agrees quietly and lets Niall tug him into the next room.

“This hall is weird,” Harry says once they step out of the living room. “I asked the renovators if they could remodel it at all, but they said a lot of weight-bearing posts are in these walls and it would cost another several thousand and I just… well I didn’t dislike it that much, you know?”

“Sure.”

The open doorway on the back wall of the living room goes into hall they’re in; directly on their left side is a door on a hinge swing that Harry says has “character” and leads into the kitchen. On their right side, the hall stretches out the length of the house.

When they turn to the right to explore deeper, the first thing is an open doorway that leads to the upstairs. Next is a large, formal dining room on the left, the library (a room with floor to ceiling bookshelves on two walls and a grand piano in the center) on the right, and at the end of the hall are three closed doors; one to a bathroom, one to a laundry room, and the one in the center goes out onto the porch at the side of the house.

“Can certainly tell the house is old,” Niall says as they peer into the closed rooms at the far end of the hall. “The design is all sorts of fucking weird.”

“I know,” Harry agrees, sound a bit wistful when he says “I would have preferred an open concept, but this isn’t too bad. It’s… original.”

They walk together through the bathroom, the laundry room, even the room with the grand piano, but when Harry becomes enamored with the dining room, Niall wanders off.

Harry is in awe of the entire room, honestly. It was beautiful in the pictures that he saw of it before he bought the farm and the house-- and honestly he’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t one of the things that made him want to buy so bad-- but seeing it in person is even more awe inspiring.

The floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows at the back of the room overlook the acres of green field behind the house and the black barn in the distance. In the center of the room are an antique wooden table and chairs that were left from the previous owners. The dining set is gorgeous , Harry thinks as he runs his finger along the newly polished surface of the table. He can already imagine hosting dinners for his and Niall’s families for Christmas with cute and totally not gaudy red placemats to accentuate the red tone of the wood, and--

“Ugh. Harry!” comes Niall’s voice from the kitchen. Harry rounds the corner out of the dining room quickly and rushes into the next room to Niall-- in his mind, he can’t help but to giggle at how dramatic he feels pushing open the swinging door and letting it go behind him.

The first thing Harry sees is Niall-- well, that’s not unusual; when Niall is present, the first thing Harry sees in any room is him-- arms crossed, glaring at open cubbies along the walls.

“They didn’t even fucking screw the doors on the cabinets.”

Harry gives Niall a soft, hopefully not patronizing, smile and crosses the room with his hands reaching for Niall’s waist.

“It’ll be our first project, then,” Harry coos, leaning his chin down on Niall’s shoulder once he’s pressed his chest to Niall’s back.

“What are we gonna put them up with, H? Sticky tape?” Niall asks, turning his head toward him.

“We can get tools,” Harry says in his best soothing voice, softly pressing his lips against the corner of Niall’s. “It’ll be alright, baby.”

“Don’t you ‘baby’ me,” Niall sighs, reaching for another kiss anyway.

“But you are my baby,” Harry mutters between soft kisses as Niall turns around in his arms.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says in return, turning his head away to stop Harry’s advances, but of course it doesn’t go to Niall’s plan.

“I’m absolutely lucky,” Harry purrs, brushing his lips past the stubble on Niall’s jaw, effectively making Niall tilt his head back and swallow as Harry licks the side of his throat and grazes his teeth over his pale skin.

“Haz,” he sighs softly, curling his fingers into Harry’s biceps. They’re hard like he’s flexing and Niall knows that he’s doing it on purpose, but he plays along instead of poking fun and ruining the mood. He holds tight while Harry sucks a bruise onto his skin and hums, pleased, once one of Harry’s hands trails down Niall’s back to cup his arse.

“Harry,” he tries again, though he doesn’t know what he’s trying for exactly. His body feels warm and tingly where Harry touches him, and it’s nice. The stress of the move and Niall’s own residual bitterness toward Harry’s shady means of bringing about this change had kept them from making love much of late-- there were still some shower handjobs and lazy blows on the sofa, but no real bedroom eyes, foreplay, teasing, mounted sex-- and Niall wants it bad.

Niall shifts his weight from one leg to the other, taking the opportunity to drag his growing bulge across Harry’s crotch to gauge the effect this is having on him.

“Oh, pet,” Niall moans when one of Harry’s hands cups the back of his head and the other squeezes his bum, urging his body forward to force pressure on their matching hard-ons.

“The bed’s already put together,” Harry pants, dropping his head to Niall’s shoulder, his hot breath ghosting over Niall’s collarbones. “We’ve gotta break in the house proper like, yeah?”

“How’s the bed already together? We just got here.”

“Paid extra for assembly,” Harry says, and Niall doesn't have to look to know he’s smirking.

“You’re a knobhead,” Niall laughs. He gets his arms between their chests and shoves, trying to get Harry to back up, but he holds steady and ruts their hips together.

“Oh, I’ll show you a knobhead.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Niall groans, half between a chuckle and a moan. He keeps their arms between them, though-- kinda likes making Harry work for it, pull him back in, keep showing Niall that he wants him just as bad.

“Why don’t I go get our special box from the car,” Harry mumbles against the shell of Niall’s ear, “and you go wait upstairs for me, with your kit off, like a good boy.”

Niall hums, pretending to weigh his options in his head just to rile Harry up.

“I dunno…” he teases, and Harry finally raises his head from attacking Niall’s neck to look at him with one eyebrow raised.

“You’re telling me you don’t want me to have sex with you?”

A slow smile builds on Niall’s face as Harry stares at him, hands still firmly groping his bum.

“Nah, I do. Why don’t you go get that box?”

Harry grins back and kisses Niall one more time, taking Niall’s bottom lip gently between his teeth and pulling just slightly before he lets go of Niall entirely.

“Upstairs,” he commands, turning toward the door. “I’ll be up in a mo’.”

Niall watches Harry rush out of the room before he himself leaves in a hurry too, taking the stairs two at a time until he’s on the next floor. He allows himself a moment to look around (there’s a lovely chandelier hanging in the small open space beside the stairs-- a small lounge, maybe. Niall peeks his head into every room, mostly trying to find the bed which marks the master bedroom, but also because he just wants to see the rest of the house) but not much longer, because he knows Harry will be coming back in less than a minute and if Niall hasn’t done what he was told to do, Harry would surely keep up his dominant act for hours-- today’s not the day for it, they’ve got so much to do, but on another occasion, Niall might like to be disobedient.

The box that Harry retrieves from their car (after a brief struggle to unpack and repack what they managed to squeeze in there) is filled with anything and everything they own related to sex. It was Niall’s idea to keep it all in one place and take it across the country themselves, mainly because he was gonna be way too paranoid about the movers snooping and finding it. Harry didn’t mind, and still doesn’t. It came in handy, ‘cause now they’ve got everything they need to keep each other occupied even though almost all of their furniture and other belongings are still being shipped.

Niall leaves their bedroom door cracked open, so when Harry goes upstairs, he knows exactly which room to go to. He stands there for a moment, silent as he can manage, watching Niall on the bed, naked and pale with his eyes closed, cup his balls in one hand and rub the tip of his prick with the other.

Harry licks his lips, shifts his weight to his other foot and bounces his leg nervously to make use of his pent up energy, and tries so hard not to go in yet. He’s not being weird by watching-- Niall knows Harry’s gonna find him like this. Shit, he probably knows Harry’s watching him right now. They’ve talked about it before, how Harry likes to watch Niall touch himself and how Niall fantasizes about Harry while he does it. It fuels his ego knowing Niall loves every dirty thought of him so much that he can make himself come from it. Harry likes praise, he likes attention, likes affection-- loves knowing Niall wants him.

“Well are you gonna come in or just stand there?” Niall finally mutters, peeking one eye open. Harry snaps out of his daze, pushes the door open with his shoulder and leaves it wide open as he bounds into the room and straight over to the bed.

“Just admiring the view,” Harry says with a smirk as he puts the box down. Niall hums and makes it obvious when he looks down to Harry’s crotch straining in his jeans, and Harry chooses to ignore it as he fervently strips himself bare.

“Are you gonna fuck me, pet?” Niall asks as he rifles through the box until he finds his preferred lube-- one thick and not too runny but will give Harry a nice glide. Then he lays back down and watches Harry crawl on top of him, reaching up to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck when he starts to lean in.

“I dunno,” Harry breathes, pressing their mouths together firmly while he kneels between Niall’s legs. “I wanna make love to you and fuck you at the same time, I just dunno where to start.”

“Well,” Niall chuckles, giving Harry another, softer peck. “Why don’t you work on getting in me and then we’ll figure it out.”

Harry does end up doing a bit of both, as he wants. Some may say it’s not any different, but it is to them. Harry fucks into Niall hard and fast, chasing the feeling and talking absolute filth, but then Niall will breathlessly ask him to hold on a minute or slow down and Harry comes out of it like a dream and stares in awe at the beautiful man he has the honor of being with. When Niall tells him he can go again, Harry’s slower, calmer, more affectionate. He praises Niall, tells him how much he loves him, and eventually it turns into a cycle, going back and forth until they’re satisfied.

When they’re going hard and Niall’s pulling Harry’s hair and biting his skin, Harry urges him to be as loud as he wants since they no longer have any neighbors at all, and Niall indulges this new freedom, almost screaming just for the sake of it.

When they’re going slow, bodies touching as much as possible, fingers intertwined, lips on lips, Harry tells Niall he’s the person in this world that means the most to him, and Niall tells Harry that he loves him about a million times and kisses him to stop Harry from making himself tear up.

Sex is a fun and loving experience for both of them, truly.

After it’s over, Harry sacrifices his pants to keep any jizz from getting on their brand new mattress (since there are no sheets or pillows to take the blow), and after cleaning up to the best of their abilities having no flannels or even tissues, they hold each other and take a well deserved nap.

Niall wakes up half an hour later to Harry, wearing his jeans and button down top again, shaking him and saying something about going to the hardware store.

x

“And we have to get tomato cages, too.”

“What did you say?”

“Tomato cages? For the tomatoes.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I thought you said-- cages?”

“Yes, honey. For the tomatoes,” Harry teases, leaning across the center console as if he needs to get closer for Niall to catch his tone.

“Why are we putting the tomatoes in cages?” he jokes back with a laugh, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“So they’ll have structure when they grow.” Harry is very matter of fact when he tells Niall this as if of course that’s why you’d put tomatoes in cages-- Niall assumes they’re not real cages, but he can't exactly reason out what they’d look like.

“Okay, love,” he chuckles anyway, “Whatever you say.”

The sat-nav pinpoints the end of their conversation, telling Niall to turn at the next right and there’s his destination-- Home Depot.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t try to find some tiny family-owned store to go to,” Niall chuckles and Harry shifts around in his seat.

“Yeah, well. Maybe another time. A chain store can’t exactly kick out two gay men, but a small town family probably could.”

Niall pulls into the lot, picks the first empty spot he finds, and parks.

“Don’t think about it, love,” he says softly, turning toward Harry now that he doesn’t have to focus on driving. “Nothing we’re doing is wrong.”

“I know,” Harry smiles, taking and squeezing Niall’s hand. “Just a bit nervous about living in a small town. We’ll open that can of worms later, though.”

Niall gives Harry a slow but chaste kiss before getting out of the car. Harry’s pretty quiet at first, nervously clearing his throat and flipping his hair, but as they start to walk toward the store, he perks up.

“Oh! And it’s so the chickens won't dig them up.”

“What?”

“The tomato cages. Chickens like to dig,” Harry nods, “and we’re gonna get chickens, Niall-- four of them, ‘cause I read that you’re supposed to have two per person-- and those little chickens will dig up my garden, so we need the tomato cages.

“I knew there was a better reason than ‘to help them grow,’ but I couldn’t remember in the car.”

“You’re an eejit, you know that?” Niall chuckles. Harry looks over at him, grins wide and crooked. He starts to reach for his hand once they step off the street and onto the sidewalk at the storefront, but then he freezes and gasps, his gaze completely past Niall’s head.

“Look, there’s a pussy cat!”

Niall turns his head to look and ends up watching Harry crawl down to the ground, reaching for the little calico kitty.

“Aww, Niall we need a little barn cat,” Harry says when the cat lays down and lets him pet her.

“Harry,” Niall warns gently, knowing where this is going.

“Oh, it’ll play with the chickens, Ni,”

“Harry.”

“It’ll be so cute!”

“Haz, stop,” Niall insists, “you can’t get everything you want at once.”

“What?” Harry looks up at Niall like a wounded kid, confusion clouding his expression. “I-- I wasn’t saying --”

“What if you get a cat and it kills a chicken, huh? You’ll cry about it and be mad at the cat, and then you’re gonna be upset with yourself for being mad at it.”

“Ow,” Harry whines. Niall has a moment of panic thinking that he’s hurt Harry’s feelings, but based on the way his head tilts down and he mumbles something to the cat about being nice to him, and he knows that’s not the case.

Niall sighs and reaches out to run his fingers through Harry’s hair when Harry’s head hangs and he doesn’t say anything else to Niall.

“I read that you gotta get more chickens than you think you’ll need ‘cause they could die pretty easy when they’re young,” Niall mumbles. Harry leans his head up into Niall’s hand, much like the cat leans up into his. “So why don't we get 6 or 7 instead of 4? And let’s just start there.”

Harry beams.

“I thought you were gonna yell at me.”

“I’m sorry, pet. I’m not gonna yell at you.” Niall frowns as Harry stands, his face moving from a dangerously familiar point in front of Niall’s hips while he’s on his knees to just at the bridge of Niall’s nose once he’s on his feet. (Niall secretly loves that Harry’s taller than him, but he’ll never admit it. Especially not when Harry wears those boots with the big heels and Harry’s mouth is at Niall’s brow ridge. Never then, even if Niall loves tucking his head under Harry’s chin, being completely enveloped in his lover’s arms when they hug.)

“I hate being mean to you,” he says now, accepting a kiss from Harry’s rosy lips as his fingers find Harry’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again when Harry kisses him a second time-- sweeter, with a hand cupping his cheek, the other gently wrapped around his bicep, and far longer than he usually cares to do in public. Niall supposes they’re both fully aware that there are far fewer people around than they’re used to in LA, even though the area isn’t exactly as… progressive.

“I’m on edge,” is what Niall says when they pull back. “A bit stressed. Please don’t ever let me snap at you, for future reference.” Harry cracks a lazy smile, and his hooded eyes are fond.

Niall swats at Harry’s chest next. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Harry’s smile only grows, so Niall rolls his eyes and turns away, finally going toward the cold rush of air coming from the automatic sliding glass doors that keep humming as they open and close at the couple’s movements.

“C’mon, loverboy.”

“Niall,” Harry whines, catching up with a short jog and a firm hand at the small of Niall’s back, “You didn’t even snap at me but you’re so apologetic; you’re such a good man. I love you so much.”

“For being a decent person?” Niall raises a brow, flicks his eyes toward Harry, and then swings his arm between them to knock Harry’s arm off his back. From there, he catches Harry’s hand before it can go back to where it was, and intertwines their fingers completely.

“I love you more, Haz.”

“Impossible,” Harry insists, “I love you sooooo much,” he sing-songs, happily following where Niall leads. Neither of them really know where they’re going, but Niall hopes he’s going toward the garden section. He saw an outdoor area when they pulled in the lot, thinks it’s at the back of the building somewhere.

“And I love you sooooo much more,” Niall chuckles.

They don’t end up getting the tomato cages-- Harry doesn’t even have tomato plants yet, ‘cause he hasn’t even seen the garden yet, let alone gotten the chance to till it, but he tells Niall that he promises he’s gonna do it soon so that they don’t miss peak growing season-- not that Niall is really torn up about not planting yet, or anything. Besides, it’s only May.

They almost leave without buying the tool set that they came for. Niall briefly panics over what kind of screwdriver he’s gonna need before he realizes that he can just get a fancy drill with interchangeable screw heads. Once he’s finally made this discovery, it takes him ten minutes to talk himself into handing over so much money for it, and then it takes five more minutes to find Harry somewhere else in the store.

He’s in the paint aisle looking at color swatches and Niall is not surprised.

“Of course you’d be here,” Niall says, his free hand naturally finding its spot on Harry’s back.

“I’m going to ignore whatever that means-- look at this,” Harry says, holding up a swatch with three different shades of yellow. “Do you prefer ‘Touch of Sunshine,’ ‘Italian Straw,’ or ‘Pineapple Delight’ for the living room? And probably the hallway too? It’s, like, a nice soft but neutral color, I think.”

“Mm,” Niall hums, “I think ‘Pineapple Delight’ is a bit too bright for a room that size. Maybe ‘Touch of Sunshine’?”

Harry turns his head and smiles, waiting until Niall looks up to peck his cheek.

“I was thinking the same. It’s soft. It won’t be overwhelming.”

“It’s like… eggshell.”

Harry snuffs a small laugh and shuffles the yellow swatch into the stack in his hands.

“I’ve got lots of others to show you--”

“Can we maybe do it at home? Then we can, like, tape the swatches to the wall and try to visualize it like they do in those home makeover shows.”

“Oh!” Harry exclaims, blinking owlishly down at all the colors. “Oh-- aw, damn it!

“I should have asked someone to film our renovators! We could have gotten on a show or somethin’.”

Niall snorts and shakes his head.

“Let’s go and checkout, pet. Then let’s go home and do the cabinets, plan some paint colors, maybe pick where all our furniture will go, and what kind of new stuff we’re gonna buy for the house; all that.”

Niall draws out his list as long as he can manage, dragging Harry to the check-out line in the meantime. It’s when, on the way home, Harry lists more things that Niall hadn’t even thought of that the anxiety of the move catches back up with him. If they’d just stayed in LA they wouldn’t have to buy a truck because Harry says it’s most authentic to a farm and he’ll need his own vehicle since everything is so far away; they wouldn’t have to buy a tractor and an industrial mower to tend to their fields; they wouldn’t have to build a chicken coop, get chickens, take care of them; redecorate and fill an entire fucking house--

Niall tells Harry he has a headache when they get back to the house. They lay down instead of getting right to work on the cabinets, and in their room, in bed, with his eyes closed, Niall can pretend that nothing has changed, and that they’re still in LA where they should be.

x

Niall trudges downstairs after a while and finds Harry out behind the house, pulling weeds from an area that looks like it was once a raised garden. He calls Harry in, accepts his eager yet sweaty kiss and then makes Harry wash the dirt off his hands before they put the cabinet doors on (which, if Harry recalls correctly, were taken down to be restained to match the new tiles). Niall makes sure the doors are straight and Harry uses the power drill to secure them in place ‘cause Niall thinks they need to be straight, and Harry thinks the drill is fun to wield.

(He’s easily amused; Niall knows that.)

Once they’re done, they stand back and admire their handiwork. None of the doors swing open on their own, meaning they’re straight, and none of them are wobbly on their hinges, meaning Harry screwed them in tight.

“Maybe we should have…” Harry drawls, opening and closing several cabinets, “gone somewhere to buy dishes. We’re kind of… lacking.”

“They’re being shipped. They should be here soon, right?”

“Um…” Harry hesitates, slowly turning toward Niall with a ‘deer in headlights’ look.

“Harry.”

“I’m sorry!” Harry holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t know they would take two weeks to ship or else I would have suggested we drove the moving truck ourselves!”

“Two weeks?!”

“Or maybe four, I dunno!”

“Harry, are you fucking kidding me? All of our shit is with that company. We don’t have have a couch to sit on, or-- or plates to eat on, or sheets for the fuckin’ bed!”

“We have a dining table…?” Harry tries feebly, but Niall groans and turns away.

“I’m going back to bed. Wake me up in two to four weeks.”

Harry lets Niall leave the room through the swinging door, not because he doesn’t care enough to follow after, but because he knows the right balance of ‘giving space’ and ‘giving chase’ when he’s done something wrong. If there were a scale of ‘least annoying’ to ‘most annoying’ things Harry has done, accidentally sending essential items through the mail because he didn’t know the estimated shipping time at the time of signing a contract is fairly low. Maybe down near accidentally ruining Niall’s third favorite shirt because he didn’t realize it was in the washer when he poured bleach in.

Harry never wants Niall to think he’s completely incompetent and inconsiderate. He wanted their move to be as least stressful as possible because even though Harry plays dumb, he knows Niall still holds resentment for Harry going behind his back to buy the farm. And when he ruined Niall’s shirt, he assumed the washer was empty so he started to wash their white sheets and duvets so they would be warm and clean when Niall got home after a long day at work.

Niall’s very understanding when it comes to Harry, is the thing, and it’s fantastic. Harry loves that they never truly fight, only argue, and nothing has ever majorly come between them. In their five years of being together, never has one of them slept on the couch or been ‘in the doghouse,’ but this move has brought them close to it.

Harry tries. He tries really hard to do things that he thinks Niall will like or that will make him happy. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way he thinks it will. He’s very impulsive, doesn’t think his decisions through all the way. Niall isn’t like that; he plans very carefully once he’s had an idea, and he’s very thorough in his follow through.

It’s a nice balance, Harry thinks as he goes out the back door in the corner of the kitchen. Harry has big ideas, crazy impulses, and Niall always supports him but also evens him out so that he can realistically meet his goals. In exchange, Harry is Niall’s biggest advocate, encouraging him to make bigger and bolder decisions and to stop selling himself short. Harry and Niall feed on each other’s energy; their relationship is a tidal wave of support and affection and positive vibes and these dainty little wildflowers that Harry has been picking out of the back yard should be a lovely peace offering and symbol of apology.

When Harry goes back inside, clutching a fistfull of cute mini purple and yellow and white flowers, he’s surprised to hear a slow, haunting tune drifting down the hall from the piano.

Harry moves as carefully as possible through the kitchen and down the hall to the library (study? piano room? They’re really gonna have to decide what to call it). He stands still in the wide, unobstructed doorway and listens to Niall play and mumble under his breath-- he’s singing something, but Harry can’t tell what it is. When he tries to come closer, the floor creaks and the music stops abruptly as Niall turns to look at him.

“Shite, you scared me,” he sighs, “how long have you been there?”

“Just a minute.” Harry hesitates then goes forward and sits on the piano bench beside Niall with his back to the keys so that their right shoulders touch.

“I brought you these,” he says, holding the flowers up to Niall. “I can’t really let go of them though or else they’ll fall all over the place.”

Niall looks down at Harry’s hand of flowers and chuckles. His right hand reaches around to rest on Harry’s thigh while he leans in for a kiss.

“Thank you, petal. But what are you gonna do if you can’t let go of them?”

“Turn into a statue, I guess. Just put me out in the garden and make sure to water my flowers so they’ll grow back next year,” Harry giggles, and Niall laughs too, shaking his head.

“Couldn’t do that to you. How am I supposed to love up on a statue?”

Harry’s face breaks out into a large grin.

“You could if you really wanted to.”

“Mm, yeah, I guess I could,” Niall nods. “For you.”

They kiss again, Niall cupping Harry cheek while he smiles against Niall’s lips.

“I adore you,” Niall mumbles into the kiss. “And I’m very, very hungry. Do you wanna go get some food?”

Harry laughs in Niall’s face and accidentally presses random keys when he leans back, making an awful noise drown out his laugh.

“Alright, alright, come on, I saw a McDonald’s when we were out earlier.” Niall gets up from the bench and pulls Harry with him by his wrist.

“But what about my flowers?” Harry whines.

“Put ‘em in your hair, it’ll be cute.”

Harry does put them in his hair, and the teenage girl at the register at McDonald’s does compliment him and she even says that she thinks Niall and Harry are so cute together after she notices that they’re holding hands, and it makes them both blush.

x

“And this is the barn,” Harry says once they’ve reached the end of the dirt path, turning around and spreading his arms triumphantly. He insisted on giving Niall a “tour” of the land a few days after they move in, but this “tour” so far has only consisted of them walking half a mile to the lake so that Harry could point at it and say ‘here’s the lake, there’s the forest, and here we are in the middle of the field.’ Niall tried to convince Harry to go into the forest and explore, but Harry was too afraid of getting attacked by any nocturnal creature that may have been waking up soon.

They were on their way back to the house when it seemed like Harry just remembered that they have a barn because when Niall mused that they hadn’t been in it yet, Harry perked up and excitedly pulled him toward it.

“Will you carry me through this threshold, Ni-Ni?”

“‘Ni-Ni?’ I--” Niall chuckles and watches Harry stick his bottom lip out, so in response, Niall sighs overdramatically and rolls his eyes even as a pert smile forms on his lips.

“Okay, pet. I’ll do it proper this time, only ‘cause that door is so big that I won’t hit your head on it.”

Harry looks like he could squeal; he gets so excited at the little things they’ve been doing, like filling the fridge with food, buying curtains and a rug for the living room, and finalizing what colors they’re gonna paint the walls. Niall hopes they never stop doing these kinds of things if it’ll make Hary keep using silly pet names and smiling the way he is right now.

Niall watches Harry wrap his fingers around the edge of the tin door and pull using his entire body-- his legs and back flexing wonderfully, might Niall add-- until the door rolls open with a rumble. The muscle show is gone a moment later as Harry whips back around and takes off, running as fast as he can toward Niall even though he’s standing a mere ten feet away.

“Harry, wait--” Niall tries, but it’s too late. Harry jumps, arms circling Niall’s shoulders. Their torsos hit together so hard that it makes Niall stumble backward. He darts an arm out at the last possible second to catch Harry’s legs behind the knee, and his other wraps around Harry’s back.

“Or not,” he groans, bouncing on his toes to toss Harry up a bit and catch him in a better position so that he’s a little easier to carry. Harry only giggles and presses his sweaty forehead against Niall’s damp temple, trusting Niall completely to bring him inside without dropping him.

It’s noticeably cooler inside the barn than it is outside, Niall observes when they’re in the center of the large, incredibly dark building. It feels much nicer than the humid heat outside.

He puts Harry down and lets him-- more like makes him, honestly-- stand on his own two feet again. “Think we can just live in here until the sun goes down?” Niall jokes.

Harry waggles his eyebrows and makes a ridiculous show of moving his jaw as he swpies his tongue across his teeth.

“Wanna make love on the floor?” he drawls. “It’s a bit dirty, but it’s not like we haven’t gotten dirty before.”

Niall looks down, already knowing that Harry is joking from the way he’d said it, and yeah it’s a good thing that he isn’t serious because the floor isn’t just dirty, it is dirt.

“How is this kind of floor safe?” Niall kicks his toe into the dirt, and a chunk comes up with a small puff of dust. “Isn’t it gonna, like… turn into mud when it rains or summat?”

“No,” Harry drawls, spinning on his heel to face away from Niall. “There’s a roof, silly; tin, like the house. And no leaks-- the repairmen checked it last fall after a bout of rain, I guess.”

“So what do we keep in here then? Since our dirt floors are so secure.”

“Well, the tractor, obviously,” Harry says, going toward a side wall. “And maybe the chickens would like to live inside the barn, but we would have to fence them off from the tractor for their safety. Oh, and Niall, I really want a cow.” Harry feels around on the wall while he talks, and upon finding a light switch, he flips it.

“A cow? No, absolutely not--”

With a hum and a flicker, an orange light comes on from somewhere above.

It does little to light the space.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Harry sighs, looking up at the light. “We’ll have to get a better light bulb, maybe.”

“I didn’t even know barns had electricity,” Niall says, squinting toward the ceiling.

Harry chuckles, turns the switch back off, and faces Niall again.

“Some of them do, Nialler. How else would you see after it gets dark?”

“Torch? Old timey lantern, maybe? A small fire, perhaps. In the winter, you know. To keep you warm as well as to let you see that your barn will soon be in flames.”

Harry laughs, loud and high pitched-- at least as much as you can consider his baritone to be high pitched-- and Niall scrunches his nose up in solidarity with how cute his man looks when he properly laughs.

“C’mon, let’s go back to the house,” Niall says, holding his hand out toward Harry.

“We’re gonna have to get a lawn mower of some sort soon,” Harry says while jogging toward Niall with his hand outstretched. He takes Niall’s hand and allows Niall to lead him out, making sure to pause and close the door.

“The grass is starting to get ridiculous,” he continues while they move, “and we’ve only been here a week! It was so nice and trimmed when we got here.”

“Maybe you can convince James to come back and cut it again.”

“I don’t think so. He lives in LA, he just had one of his cousins cut it for us as a, like, welcoming gesture, or something.”

“Well that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you card?”

“Yes, of course. Signed your name for you-- you were still asleep when I mailed it.”

Their hands swing between them as they slowly make their way back to the house, walking in the ruts in the ground made by the old tire tracks of the previous owners.

x

It takes about a month to get all the kinks worked out. They get a tractor and a large mower so they can cut the grass and mow the field. Harry gets his garden tilled and planted, including the tomato cages so that their new chickens won’t dig it up. Their stuff arrives from the movers and they finally get to unpack and turn the house into home and it makes Niall feel more comfortable staying there. But is he starting to like it? Not quite.

It took them three weeks to get internet and TV, first of all, and they had to pay to have a special company come install it because their house is so fucking far out of any other company’s range. The internet was Niall’s only way of connecting back to LA. Without it, he was entirely cut off from his producers and co-writers, therefore he was set back an entire three weeks of work. Without work, they aren’t paid, and money isn’t limitless, despite what Harry seems to think.

They only money they’ve made this first month came from Harry selling eggs at a local farmer’s market and clothes that he doesn’t want anymore at a flea market in the next town over. They also made a random $200 from a farmer down the road who gave it to them for the right to rake and bale the already cut grass in their field to give to his cows (Harry tried to convince Niall to haggle with him for a cow, but Niall absolutely refused and Harry reckons the man probably did not have milk cows anyway).

Things may seem okay on the outside, but Harry’s bank account ran dry before they even left LA what with paying the down payment, the movers, the renovators, and some of the new furniture, and all. Niall’s been paying for almost everything they’ve bought since arriving, and all the bills, and as much as Harry’s not going to want him to, he needs to go back to LA for a couple of weeks to make some of their damn money back.

“What? Baby, no,” Harry whines. “Please stay. We just got here.” Niall can hear Harry getting up from his seat at the breakfast bar to fill in the space behind him where he stands at the stove.

“Haz, when was the last time you sold a song?” It’s a rhetorical question; Harry doesn’t have to answer because Niall already knows that Harry stopped working on music back when he was finalizing the transfer of the farm under his name.

“We don’t have money,” Niall sighs when Harry’s chin comes to rest on his shoulder. Niall keeps his eyes down on the pancakes in front of him. It’s about time to flip the next one.

“Playing house is fun and all, but I’m not giving up my career just to stay here and be broke,” Niall mumbles, “I need to do something.”

“Niall, I’m not asking you-- I would never ask you to give up your dreams for me.”

“I know you wouldn’t, babe…” Niall sighs, lowers his voice, and turns the stovetop off. “So I’m definitely going to go to LA for a couple of weeks. I’ve been writing a lot since being here, so I think,” Niall pauses, takes a deep breath that puffs up his entire chest, and then slowly says, “I might finally make that album I’ve been thinking about.”

“Niall?” Harry voice perks up, his chin rises when he stands up to his full height. “Niall, baby, that’s fantastic. I am so happy for you! What have I been telling you all along?” Harry asks excitedly, tickling Niall’s sides until Niall squirms and barks out a laugh. “You’re so incredibly talented. I want the world to know you, they’re going to love you.”

Niall turns around in Harry’s arms and hugs his neck.

“I don’t care if they love me as long as you still do--”

“Aww, you cheesy babe,” Harry says, cutting Niall off. Niall just chuckles and keeps talking.

“It’s all for you, after all. I want you to be proud of it.”

“Niall, I’ll always be proud of you.” Harry leans their foreheads together and then bumps their noses. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, petal.”

“I love you most, darling.”

“Mm, well I’m gonna miss you most.”

“No way,” Harry pouts, brushing his lips against Niall’s. “Me and the chickens are gonna miss you most.”

Niall laughs and slides one of his hands into Harry’s hair to pull him in for a kiss that shuts them both up for a good five minutes. Their pancakes are cold when they sit down to eat them, but neither of them really minds.

x

Harry drives Niall to the airport a few days later after what he calls a “sex marathon” intended to satiate them while they’re apart.

Of course it doesn’t work, though. That’s not a thing that happens. Ever.

x

“Hi baby,” Harry coos, looking at Niall’s smiling face on his phone screen. “How was your first day back in LA?”

“It was really good! Yeah, yeah, I got to see Louis in the studio, met a few new guys when I was recording a song today. They’re really cool, I think I’m gonna work with them again tomorrow.”

“Did you get a lot done?”

“Kinda. We recorded my vocals for one of my songs, but like… the playback didn’t sound right, you know? ‘Cause they have to edit my voice or whatever--”

“No they don't,” Harry frowns, “your voice is beautiful. What are they doing to it?”

“I dunno exactly, there’s a vocal filter that, like, cuts out if you sing too low and so it kept making my voice skip and I didn’t like it very much. I think it might sound good on another song, though, so I’ll let you know how that goes.

“I was just really excited to get this one song finished-- it’s my favorite that I’ve written, but it just--” Niall cuts himself off with a heavy sigh that turns into a frustrated groan. His head leans back against his pillow and Harry gets to stare at the underside of his jaw. “It won’t fucking work!” Niall yells into his empty room.

Harry hums and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly says, “Well, I’m positive you’ll figure it out. You’re really good at literally everything in the studio, you can get it how you want it, I’m sure.”

“Thanks pet,” Niall says so soft that the microphone almost doesn’t pick it up. His head’s still tilted back and Harry can see that he’s tugging on handfuls of his hair.

He’s gotta be doing it on purpose, Harry thinks.

“Those love bites look like they’re fading already,” Harry says to test the waters. Niall turns his head just a little so he can look at Harry’s expression-- it’s as blank as he can manage, but it’s pretty clear that he’s chewing on the inside of his lip.

Niall smirks softly and tilts his head back again.

“Wish you were here to fix me up with some more.”

“I’d suck on something else if I was there.”

Niall sits up slowly and smirks right into the camera, changing his voice to something lower and slower than before-- his bedroom voice.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, babe?”

“Niall Horan,” Harry chuckles, pretending to be surprised, “are you propositioning me? Over FaceTime?”

“I absolutely am, 100%.”

“Cheeky bastard,” Harry laughs softly and shuffles around on the couch so that he can lean his back against the arm and prop one leg up on the cushion in front of him. His other leg stays on the floor, leaving ample room for him to slide his hand into his underwear and stroke his fingers along his shaft slowly.

“Mm. Well go on, then.”

“Are you naked right now?”

“No,” Harry chuckles, “You said you didn’t want my bare arse on the new sofa. And then you fucked me on said sofa. And then you said you still didn’t want me sitting on it naked because guests will come over eventually and they’ll have to sit on the ‘naked arse sofa’ and it’ll bother you. So I’m wearing briefs, but I’ll have you know, Niall, that my hand is already down my pants.”

“Why don’t you show me, then?” Niall asks through a tiny, amused chuckle. “Let’s see how you pull yourself off in your pants just lookin’ at me.”

“Are you saying I won’t get any dirty talk?” Harry asks, switching the camera around so he can show Niall the bulge of his hand moving around his fattening cock. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Depends. Are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?”

“Of course I will.”

“Are you just saying that because you know that I’m not there to stop you and you can do whatever you want?”

Harry laughs instead of answering and Niall scoffs.

“I’d spank you right now if I could get my hands on you. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

Harry hums to say yes and lets out the first little moan of the night as he struggles to move his hand how he wants because of his tight confines.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

“It’s a bit dry, if I’m honest,” Harry jokes. Except he’s not really joking-- the friction of his dry hand only feels good in the initial ‘getting it hard’ stage. After too long, the chafing becomes unbearable.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and get some lube?”

“That’s where all the toys are, sir,” Harry says, continuing to joke around. “Are you trying to get a free show out of me?”

“I’m already getting one, what are you talkin’ about?”

Harry squawks and turns the camera back toward himself so that Niall can see his exasperation, and Niall just laughs.

“Go upstairs and lay in bed, Harry,” Niall says, again low and deep. Harry does as he’s told, keeping one hand between his dick and his boxers as he goes, taking the stairs two at a time to get there faster.

“What do you want me to do after I get to bed?”

“Get the lube out of my bedside table. Get naked. Show me.”

Harry does as Niall says, making a point to lay on Niall’s side even after he’s retrieved the lube so that he can press his face into the pillow and smell the last hints of Niall being there.

“Okay,” Harry says, panning the camera down his body so Niall can see that he’s naked. “What now?”

“Do you want a lazy job or the whole shabang?” Niall asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Harry laughs, focusing the camera back on his face.

“Just pick one.”

“Okay then,” Harry drawls, rolling his eyes. “Give me ‘the whole shabang,’ please, love.”

“Alright then,” Niall smirks. “Get that purple dildo from the closet.”

“The glass one?”

“No, the really thick one.”

“Oooh, okay, daddy,” Harry says in a light tone, rolling out of bed. Niall groans and chuckles.

“Do not, you little menace.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Harry sing-songs. Niall watches the smile on his face as Harry shuffles through their toy box.

“You don’t even have a daddy kink, you weirdo,” he says.

“You say you don’t either but you sure sound like you like it. Remember the first time I said it and you came on my--”

“Stop, stop, okay, you little eejit. Maybe I like it when you call me daddy, but not when I can’t get my hands on you. Just get the dick and get back in bed.”

“Sounds like a life motto I can get behind,” Harry says, again doing as he’s told. Niall is unphased, but he’s storing that in his mind for later teasing.

“Do you wanna clean up first? You can call me back if you want.”

“I think I’m okay,” Harry says, squinting into the distance. “It’s been like… all day since I’ve pooped. I’m pretty clear. I’m gonna check, though. Stay on, I’ll be right back.”

Niall stares at the ceiling of their room through his phone screen, glowing only with the soft light of Niall’s bedside lamp. It’ll be enough for Niall to see Harry. Maybe Niall should do the same.

Niall gets up while Harry is gone and strips himself bare. After, he turns the hotel TV off so there’s no weird blue glow on him like some cringey porno. He takes his time fluffing his pillows and arranging them nicely so he’ll be comfortable when he settles in for the next half an hour? Full hour? He’s not sure, so he takes extra caution in making sure he’ll have everything he needs within an arm’s reach.

“Niall, are you there?”

“Yeah, babe,” Niall says, picking up his phone and flopping back down in bed. “Just getting ready.”

“Ooh,” Harry coos, once Niall’s back on screen. “I love that chest hair. Just wanna rub my fuckin’ face in it.”

Niall barks out a laugh and makes a point of scratching his fingers through it.

“You do. And you will once I come home.”

“Can’t wait for you to come home.”

“Me either, baby. You good to go?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Then prop your legs up however you want and let me see you finger yourself. Start with just one finger, you’re going slow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry turns on the bed so that he can raise one leg and prop his foot high on the wall, and the other leg he just spreads out to the side as far as he can reach. Harry rests his phone on his stomach while he opens the bottle of lube and squeezes some onto his fingers. After the bottle’s down, he positions his camera so that Niall can see as he swirls his finger around his rim, lubing the area sufficiently so that once he relaxes and pushes in, his finger won't catch until he hits the last knuckle.

“You take it so good, baby.”

“It’s only one finger.” It’s true, but Harry’s cheeks still flush when Niall says it.

“Yeah, but it went right in, look at you. So pretty for me, you know that?”

“Yeah?” Harry slowly starts moving his finger in and out, curling just a bit on the inside to try to make room for what’s incoming.

“Mhm. Real pretty. Why don’t you go on up to two fingers whenever you want? Know you get impatient with just one.”

“Thank you,” Harry sighs, taking his finger out. He makes sure his second finger still has lube on it before curling his fingers at his hole, pushing the tips in slowly. He wriggles around, trying to lift his ass higher to get a better angle, and then he slides them in most of the way, moaning softly as he gently presses on his prostate.

“Feel nice?”

“Yeah,” Harry moans.

“Tell me about it, petal.”

“I touched my prostate,” he pants. “Feels good. My cock is leaking. It’s tickling my belly.”

Niall chuckles.

“That’s how it works, babe, you know that. Keep playing with it and you’re gonna have a huge mess to clean up.”

“I don’t mind. It’ll make it feel like you’re here if there’s lots of mess.”

Niall grins, watching Harry bear down on his two fingers, moving both his hand and his hips to meet in the middle.

“That’s both disgusting and somewhat romantic, I hope you know.”

“I do know. I’m very good at that,” Harry laughs, but his voice chokes off in the middle and he whines.

“How do you feel, baby?”

“Good-- really good. Can I touch my dick?”

“No, not yet. Do you still feel tight?” Niall pauses and waits for Harry to whine; he takes it as a yes. “Then keep going until it doesn’t feel so full, then add a third finger for me.”

It takes another couple of minutes of mumbling sexy things mixed with jokes, and of Niall slowly teasing himself watching his boyfriend finger himself, before Harry’s ready to take another finger. He has to put down the phone for a second to get more lube, but he talks Niall through it, posh-ing up his accent further than it already is to dramatically narrate his every movement until the camera shifts again and Niall can watch him moan and whine on three fingers.

“Can I do it now?” he whines after a while. “I want the dildo, Ni.”

“No, I think you need to go four.”

“But Niall,” he moans louder, “I want it so bad. Please let me, please--”

“Harry, it’s big. I’m not gonna watch you hurt yourself on a fuckin’ fake cock. Do a fourth finger for a few minutes, then I’ll let you use the dildo. Do you wanna ride it? Or stay on your back?”

“Don’t wanna ride anything if it isn’t you,” Harry manages to get out through his uneven voice. “Riding is only fun if I get to feel your whole body under me.”

“Mm, I can think of some other positions that are fun with my whole body under yours, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry whines, “so many.”

“Add that fourth finger, pet.”

Harry hesitantly takes his three fingers out and again puts his camera down while he gets more lube. He takes his time now, making sure the majority of his hand is covered in slick before he reaches back down and shows Niall how he bundles his fingers together so he can get them all to slowly push into his hole.

He only gets the tips in before the burn of the stretch hits him. He pauses and groans, chest heaving as he tries to force himself to relax his muscles.

“Take your time with it, baby. Don’t let it hurt you.”

“I won’t,” Harry promises. He sighs before trying again, not getting much further. This time he twitches his fingers, trying to spread them to make room to slide all his fingers in. They’re significantly wider at the point where they meet his palm than where they’re all together at his hole, and no amount of cramping his hand could make it easier to work out this stretch. Niall doesn’t usually do four fingers, and this is pretty intense for Harry playing alone.

He eventually gets where he wants to be, though, no less than ten moan-and-yell-filled minutes later. Niall’s encouragement has his whole body tingling, and the sensation of being so full has his legs quaking.

“I’m ready for it, Niall,” Harry moans as he shows Niall a close up of him fingering himself steadily with all four fingers. “Please let me take the dildo, wanna show you how good I am.”

“Show me then, baby boy. You think you can handle it?”

“Yeah, I can take it. I can handle it, Niall.”

“Do it then, baby.”

“Yes, sir, yes, yes,” Harry chants, taking his fingers out and sitting his phone down. Niall can hear him lubing the dildo-- it’s slippery and it squelches between Harry’s fingers, and Niall’s cock gives an interested twitch where it’s sat, red and angry, on his stomach. Niall wraps a hand around himself and gives only one slow tug before Harry’s moaning loud and Niall looks back at his screen to see the tip of the dildo disappearing and reappearing as Harry teases himself with it.

“You like a tease, don’t you, pet? Makes you feel naughty.”

Harry moans in a way that kinda sounds like “mhm” so Niall takes it as agreement and moves on with the dirty talk.

“You’re a good cock slut, huh? And just for me, you’re my cock slut and you love fucking yourself and pretending it’s me, huh?”

“Yes, Niall. Oh, fuck yes,” Harry moans loud. “It’s so fucking good.”

“God you’re so fucking hot, Haz. Man, wish I could get my fucking mouth on you, shove my tongue so far in your ass, have you kicking and screaming for me.”

Harry makes a strangled noise and briefly raises the camera to show Niall the spit dripping out of the side of his mouth which has been watering since sometime when he had three fingers in his ass.

“You love it so much,” Niall pants, licking his lips. “Love seeing that.” At this point, his hand is working steadily on his cock, following the pace that Harry sets into himself with. He squeezes tight, imagining Harry bearing down on him, and he rubs his thumb into the slit on the head pretending it’s Harry’s tongue.

“Ah, fuck,” Niall sighs, “wish I was there.”

“Yeah?” Harry stutters. “What would you do if you were here?”

Niall hesitates, takes his time licking his lips, waits until he can tell Harry’s about to ask again.

“Come in you. Eat it back out.”

Harry’s eyes widen and his body jerks in an involuntary reaction. He lets out a loud moan that transpires into needy, pathetic whines and groans of Niall’s name as he comes, moving the dildo deliberately in a way that brush his prostate to keep his body jerking and spasming until it’s too much and he has to stop.

“Oh my god, Niall,” Harry sighs, pulling the dildo until it slips out. He keeps the camera low and lets Niall watch his hole clench and flare as Harry comes down from his orgasm, then he shows Niall the absolute pool of cum on his belly.

“It’s so messy,” Harry whines, and Niall tsks.

“It’s ‘cause you kept touching your prostate, that’s just what happens. You know that.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry pouts, taking the camera back to his face. “Why don’t you sod off and let me watch you come?”

Niall chuckles. “Face cam or dick cam?”

“Surprise me.”

“Both cam it is, then,” Niall says, adjusting his phone so that it’s propped up on his pillow and Harry can see both Niall’s face and his hand stroking furiously over his dick.

“You know me so well,” Harry murmurs.

“You always wanna see both.”

“Wish you were here,” Harry says. “I’d love to suck you dry right now.”

“Let me fuck your mouth?”

“Fuck my throat, Niall. Feel you all the way at the very back, make me choke on it, on your cum.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Niall pants. Harry can see his chest heaving, knows he’s close to coming.

“Yeah, baby. Wanna taste you on my tongue. I love it when you fuck my throat raw.”

“Fuckin’ shit, Harry,” Niall groans as he comes. The stripes shoot up his stomach, landing as far up as the center of his chest as Niall slowly strokes himself through.

“Miss your bloody mouth, Haz.”

“I miss all of you, Niall.”

“Babe,” Niall chuckles lazily, “gimme a second to wipe the jizz off my chest before you get sweet on me.”

“But I always wanna be sweet on you.”

They spend another hour and a half on facetime cooing and awwing at each other and exchanging kissy noises and happy smiles until Niall can hardly keep his eyes open. They bid each other good night, and they’re on the phone together right after they wake up in the morning so Harry can tell Niall that he found seven eggs in the chicken coop today instead of six , and so Niall can talk slyly about the song he’s working on today. (He’s been a bit secretive with his projects since moving to Illinois, but Harry doesn’t so much as mind. He knows that Niall wants things to be perfect when he presents them, so he waits patiently for the day Niall excitedly plays him a new track.)

x

Harry’s generally sad that Niall is away from him, but they’ve done this before, they know how it goes. It’s never resulted in tears before though, so when Harry calls Niall on FaceTime in the middle of dinner and he sees the preview of tears running down his boyfriend’s face, Niall answers quickly, excusing himself out to Louis’s balcony.

“Baby, baby, baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Niall asks quickly and softly, holding his phone as if he’s crading Harry’s face.

“I-- I lost it I can’t f-- find-- and it’s so dark-- Ni-- Niall!” Harry sobs and sniffles. His camera is shaking and the audio is crackling like crazy and Niall is genuinely worried.

“Harry, petal, calm down, take a deep breath. What is wrong? Who did you lose?”

“A chicken!” Harry whines miserably. If Harry wasn’t panicking so deeply right now, Niall would almost laugh about it.

“You lost a chicken? How did you lose a chicken, H? And where are you right now?”

“In the field,” Harry whimpers, “I’ve been looking all over for her but all I can find are feathers and I think she’s dead.” Harry’s face crumples as another small sob comes over him.

“Harry,” Niall sighs softly, “Babe, go back to the house. It’s late, it’s already 10 there, it’s so dark outside and you hardly know your way around.

“I’m sorry, petal, but something probably got her, like a hawk or a fox or something. We knew this was gonna happen, it’s just what happens to chickens. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is my fault!” Harry whines. He’s holding the camera so that Niall can see under his chin, and Harry is looking up-- forward-- while he walks, hopefully going back to the house like Niall said. “I fell asleep after dinner and I forgot to close the chicken coop and we were missing a chicken. It’s my fault, Niall, it’s all my fault. God, how am I supposed to take care of children if I can’t even take care of chickens? I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Harry, don’t you dare,” Niall says in a tone strong enough to make Harry stop and look down. “You’re not stupid and don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. And what did you just say about children, where did that even come from?”

Harry stares down at Niall’s concerned face on his screen and sighs, then continues walking. He sits soon after and Niall can tell that he’s on the porch swing at the side of the house.

“I was looking at the spare bedroom at the top of the stairs--” Harry sniffles “--the one that looks out at the front of the property?” he says as a question to make sure Niall knows exactly which one he means.

“The one we thought about turning into a mini studio?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, “that one… well I was in there and I was thinking, you know, maybe we could paint it pastel pink, or a light little yellow, put a white crib on the wall between the windows… maybe in a few years put a nice little day bed there… we could put teddy bear stickers on the wall, you know, a nice toy box, a changing table that might double as a desk later on…”

“Harry…”

“I dunno, Niall,” Harry whines softly, “I just saw a future in that room, I saw a little girl and you and me, and I saw a whole family and it just made me miss you so much that I laid in bed holding your favorite t-shirt for a while and somehow I fell asleep and then I didn’t lock up the chickens, and I’ve just been really down since you’ve been gone ‘cause I don’t know anyone here and I guess everything just piled up on me and blew up at once.”

“Babe, I’m sorry about your chicken,” Niall says quietly, “but back up for me… you’re already planning a nursery?”

“Not exactly,” Harry says, fast and nervous. “I was just thinking-- just looking. It’s not like we could even do that right now; I know we’re in a tough spot and it’s my fault. I got us here, and now you’re there to make up for it…” he sighs as he starts to break down under his own guilt again, and Niall thinks that if Harry sheds one more tear he’s gonna be on the next flight home.

I just called it home, Niall silently realizes.

“Harry, I love you so much and it’s breaking my heart to see you like this, so I’m gonna need you to listen to me, okay?” Niall pauses, Harry nods.

“You’re the most important man in my life. You are beautiful and you are kind and you are thoughtful, and some day, when we’re ready, you’re going to make the most amazing father to some beautiful children. That’s why we moved to that house, Harry. So that we could make a home for the rest of our lives.

“I miss you every second that I’m away from you, and if you keep crying and being so hard on yourself, I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from going home to you. Accidents happen, pet, but you need to remember that chickens aren’t children-- I’ve seen you with children, and it makes you so happy and you’re so good with them, and when we have some, you’re gonna be even better.

“And you didn’t make me do anything, so don’t blame yourself for me being in a bad mood our first couple of weeks there. I moved to a farm in the middle of nowhere because I love you, and I’m here right now because I love making music. I’ll be home soon, though, H. Just another couple of weeks and I’ll be home and I’m not letting you cry ever again, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Harry says through a tearful smile. “God, I miss you so much.”

“I miss you to pieces, lover. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more… are you busy, do you need to get off the phone…?”

“I was having dinner with Louis and Eleanor, but I was finished anyway. What do you want, pet?”

“A cuddle,” Harry sighs. “I just wanna lay in bed and see your face and pretend you’re holding me.”

“Why don’t you go inside then, love? I’ll go back to my hotel and we’ll cuddle.”

“That’d be nice.”

“I’ve got something for you, by the way. Can’t give it to you until I get to my room, though.”

Niall gets up and goes back inside, mouthing his goodbyes and thanks to Louis and Eleanor for having him over. They don’t ask why he’s leaving so suddenly-- Louis opened the window after Niall’d been on the balcony for more than five minutes. He caught on that it was a domestic issue and Eleanor made him close the window again to give them their privacy.

“Ooh,” Harry perks up, his puffy, red, post-crying face turning up in a smile, “what’s my present?”

“Keep your mind out of the gutter, perv.” Niall rolls his eyes.

They don’t say anything for a while after that.

Harry goes inside, strips down (“for comfort, Niall. You know I like being naked,” he claims when Niall tells him again that the surprise is not sexual), and lays in bed hugging Niall’s pillow which he has freshly misted with cologne.

Niall puts his phone on the passenger seat of his rental car while he drives back to his hotel. Harry doesn’t mind listening to the sound of his keys jingling, Niall singing to the soft murmur of the radio, or the general humming of the car. If he closes his eyes, it feels like he’s there, sitting in the seat beside him.

Harry’s almost forgotten about the surprise once Niall says he’s at the hotel. He’s excited at the prospect of cuddling (even if it’s through a screen), so imagine his confusion when Niall sits at the piano in the hotel lobby.

“I like the one at home better,” he says, testing a few of the keys. Some of them fall a little flat, and Niall quietly curses at the lack of respect and upkeep for this gorgeous instrument, but softly so as not to disturb the desk staff or any passerbys.

“I dunno how this is gonna sound so forgive me, petal, but I’ve been working on this song for you and I just can't get a recorded track to sound right.”

Harry recognizes it as soon as it starts. It’s the same melancholic tune Niall’s been playing since they day they moved in, but only when he thinks Harry isn’t in the house. He wonders how long Niall’s been sitting on this and what it’s going to contain after coming from such a stressful point in their lives, but what he hears is better than anything he could have dreamt up.

Niall’s voice is soft but light while he sings lyrics about looking back where they started, growing together, and knowing they’re right for each other. Harry is so full of love and appreciation and shock, quite frankly, that all he can say once Niall’s finished is “come home soon. Please come home.”

It takes Niall another nine days to finish his part of his album. He trusts his producers to tweak the sounds he isn’t sure about, and he knows the musicians he worked with will know what Niall wants enough to speak on his behalf. That means that once Niall makes it extremely clear that all finishing touches need to be run by him, he’s booking a flight home.

He calls Harry every day when he leaves the studio, and while on his way to the airport, he considers pretending he’ll need to stay a few days longer, but he just can't. A surprise sounds fun and all, but he can’t wait to give his love the good news. As soon as he hears Harry’s voice, he blurts that he’s on his way to the airport, and Harry yells excitedly into the phone. Niall can just picture him bouncing around the living room in an absolute fit, almost knocking things over as he goes.

They have an emotional reunion at the airport, complete with them falling on the ground in each other’s arms while laughing and crying at the same time.

When they get home, Niall fucks Harry on his hands and knees in the entryway of their house because they can’t wait to make it up to their bedroom. Luckily, Harry had packets of lube in his pocket because he wasn’t sure they’d be able to stop from pulling the car over on the way home and fucking in the backseat. (It was a narrow escape from that, really. Harry almost made them do it when he noticed how straining the bulge of Niall’s crotch was when they were ten minutes from home-- a bulge that was his fault, of course. He was openly touching Niall’s dick through his jeans and telling him how bad he wanted to be fucked.)

After cuddling (naked) on the couch (fuck the ‘no naked arse on the sofa’ rule), they give each other blow jobs, and after dinner they go to bed and Harry makes love to Niall slow and deep, dragging it out as long as possible to show him exactly how much he missed him.

They next time they lose a chicken, Niall’s there to help Harry look for her, and when they only find a pile of feathers, Niall calms Harry down before he cries.

There are days when, while mowing down the thick grasses in the field, Niall will spot Harry swimming in the lake and take a break to join him. (It took quite a bit of convincing the first time it happened. Niall stopped to tell Harry to get out before something gross in the water made him sick, but Harry patiently explained and insisted that it was an artificial lake and the only weird things that had been in it were cows, and speaking of cows, Harry still wants one. Niall doesn’t give in to the cow as easily as he gives in to swimming under the 100 degree heat.)

On another occasion, Niall notices that Harry talks to his plants like they’re his babies, complete with cooing and awwing. Niall, inspired by Harry’s habit of taking pictures of everything they’ve done in their new house, takes pictures of Harry and his produce without him noticing. On their one year anniversary of living on the farm, Niall presents him with a photo book titled “The first year of the rest of our lives.” There are pictures of everything in there, from the house before their move to what it looked like after. There’s Niall at the piano; Anne and Gemma and Bobby and Maura all in their living room at Christmas; Harry at the farmer’s market; and Niall making breakfast wearing nothing but an apron (it was Harry’s birthday-- that picture is just for him and they agree to take it out of the album later. In its place he puts a picture of them kissing that was taken on the same day).

“I wouldn’t have done this for anyone, you know? Give up everything I knew in LA and move and all that. You’re so special to me, Harry. I knew from the moment I met you that you were gonna be something special. You apologized to a dog for tripping over it, for fuck’s sake,” Niall chuckles, and Harry does too.

“Pet, we’ve had these six incredibly hectic years together but no matter what happens, I’ve always had your unwavering support and love and I just really think I oughta tell you how much I appreciate you more often. You’re the greatest part of everyday and I can’t stand the thought of not having you in my life.”

“Ni,” Harry whines, smiling a watery smile. He looks up to the ceiling and swipes his thumb beneath his waterline, gently shaking his head. “I love you so much.”

Niall can’t tell if he’s caught on to what’s happening yet, but regardless, he takes Harry’s looking away as an opportunity to slip off the couch and onto one knee.

“Harry Edward Styles, you absolute babe, you were right about everything-- about staying in LA to keep workin’ after we’d both been rejected a dozen times, about moving out once we’d got our foot in the door, about coming here and settling down. We’ve finished all our projects, we’ve had our families come to visit like you wanted. I think it’s time to move onto something new.

“So what d’ya say, pet? Will you marry me?”

Niall doesn’t have time to pull the ring out of his pocket before Harry’s diving off the couch and tackling him to the floor. It’s a bit of sensory overload all of a sudden, to have Harry’s weight pinning him down, kissing him hard, and squealing and wriggling at the same time. His knee’s throbbing too, and his bum and his back are already sore from being thumped on the floor, but none of it matters. Nothing matters except for Harry chanting “yes, yes, yes” while kissing Niall so much that it feels like he’s trying to consume him.

Niall laughs. He doesn’t know why at first but he laughs, and he laughs and he laughs, and Harry stops kissing and laughs too until their happy tears take over and they don’t know what to do besides stare at each other in awe.

“Ni, you asked me to marry you.”

“I did.” Niall chuckles and Harry sniffles before letting out a tearful laugh as well.

“We’re gonna get married,” Harry says. His voice cracks in warning of an incoming sob.

“We are.” Niall sounds nearly the same as Harry. “We’re gonna get married, Harry. You and me.”

“We’re gonna be husbands.” Harry whimpers and buries his face against Niall’s neck. His voice is so ragged the next time that he speaks that Niall almost can't make out the way he says “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too, Haz,” Niall says softly. He runs his hand up and down Harry’s back slowly, gently shushing his cries between statements.

“I’ve been thinking about proposing since before we left Los Angeles.”

“Really?”

“I've known that this is what I wanted for a long time, H.”

“I’ve been looking for rings,” Harry admits with another sniffle. “I was gonna find the perfect one and propose to you the day I found it, when ever that would have been.”

“You’re so sweet, pet,” Niall gently coos. “Whenever you find that ring, you let me know. I’ll wear the hell out of it. Everyone will know I’m yours; won’t even need to ask.”

“Can I propose to you when I find it?” Harry giggles.

“Oh, definitely,” Niall grins, “you got to.”

And Harry does, six weeks later. He finds the ring in an antique shop near Chicago, and even though it’s only noon and he had planned to be out until the evening, he rushes home as fast as possible with the plan to propose to Niall wherever he stands, whatever he’s doing.

Niall, playfully over-acting, drops the bagel he’s eating and gasps loudly when Harry barges into the kitchen and drops onto his knee at Niall’s side.

“Harold!” he exclaims, and Harry giggles while reaching for Niall’s left hand.

“Today’s the day, Nialler. I found your ring,” Harry slips it onto Niall’s finger, “and now you’re not allowed to take it off ‘cause you already said you’ll marry me so hah! I got you, you’re mine for ever.”

Niall throws his head back and laughs, closing his newly ringed hand around Harry’s. Harry stares up at him fondly and waits for the fit to pass, spending the meantime kissing up Niall’s arm.

“That’s one way to propose, alright. You got me forever, pet.”

“Good,” Harry says, wrapping his free hand around Niall’s neck to draw him down to meet his mouth. “‘Cause I could never imagine my life with anyone but you. You make me the happiest man in the world and I’m so ready to marry you.”