Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Local Football Star Who Broke His Neck In Freak Accident Will Not Let It Break Him and Is Determined To Walk Again

Louis Tomlinson was 22 and playing in his usual Thursday five-a-side football match when he was tackled and fell, resulting in a broken neck.

His life changed in an instant, Louis spent the following seven months in hospital, undergoing multiple surgeries and treatments after being told he would never walk again.

But even after the diagnosis of paralysis was given, the determined young lad has fought to remain in high spirits and vows that he will not be confined to a wheelchair forever.

Before his injury, Louis, now 25, was a keen football player and worked at a bustling graphic design agency in the city.

Now he works from home and spends his time focusing on his recovery. He has physiotherapy sessions three times a week at home and trains with weights in order to maintain his fitness.

The local community rallied around him and several fundraisers have been held in his name. With the money raised he has been able to pay for specialist treatments and a custom car with extra space for his wheelchair.

He and his partner of eight years, Harry (23) were also able to renovate their bungalow home to accommodate Louis’s wheelchair, including converting the bathroom to a wet room and lowering the counters in the kitchen.

Every time we speak to Louis he seems in good spirits and this time was no exception. “I feel like I’ve come such a long way since my accident. The first year was the worst but now I’ve realised that I can still live a good life even in a chair, I’m feeling more positive than ever.”

“My family, boyfriend and friends are always happy to help and I’m still able to do a lot of the stuff I loved doing before, I just need a hand to do it!”

“The support from everyone has been nothing but incredible and I’m so grateful for everyone who has donated or shared my GoFundMe page, because without you I wouldn’t be able to be as independent.”

Louis is hoping to travel to America next year to a centre in Florida, where he would take part in an intensive physiotherapy course that would see him use a special machine to walk - a dream that he’s never let go of.

“The road to recovery is one I’ll be on for the rest of my life, but I’ve never lost faith in myself and my ability to get better,” Louis says.

“Being able to walk again, even for just a few steps, would be an absolute dream come true.”

“It seems like such a trivial thing, but it’s something you don’t realise you take for granted and just the idea of it makes me so excited!”

If you would like to donate to Louis’s GoFundMe, then you can by following this link: https://bit.ly/2SXL7iw

"Lou. Lou. Louis."

Louis stirs, blinking a few times before he finally wakes properly. The room is still dark but he can make out Harry's silhouette, his sharp eyes and his hairline, his chiselled jawline and his dopey, familiar grin, and he smiles warmly. Harry is so beautiful in the early morning, and Louis feels lucky every single day that he still gets to wake up beside him.

And then he spasms, his whole body going taut and stopping him right in his tracks. He hisses and scrunches up his face as he rides it out, grateful when Harry grabs his hand and lets him squeeze it for the duration. “ Fuck.”

“You okay, love?” Harry questions, and when Louis opens his eyes he sees his face has gone from smiling and brilliant to tight with worry. His spasms are unpredictable and always unpleasant, but they’re not dangerous nor do they typically last a long time, thank god. But Harry worries, worries, he always worries.

“I’m fine,” he grits out, then seconds later he goes lax again. It lasted barely 15 seconds this time, which is not as bad as it can be. “That one wasn’t too bad, to be fair.”

Harry leans down and kisses his forehead. “Okay,” he says softly. “Sorry I woke you anyway. I wouldn’t normally because I know you’re not working this week, but Claire just rang and asked if she could come at 10, not 12, so she’ll be here soon.”

Louis hums an affirmation and fumbles for the bed remote, using his knuckle to raise the bed up. It wasn’t cheap, but recently they’ve been able to invest in a double bed-frame that can be moved up and down using a remote, not dissimilar to a hospital bed, and he can be raised from lying down flat to sat upright at the press of a button. “Cool, that’s cool,” he mumbles through his yawn. “Can you sort me out?”

“Yeah, you wanna get up now? It’s only just past 9.”

“Yeah, may as well,” Louis nods, then holds out his arms for Harry to pull off his sleep shirt. It’s only then that he realises that Harry’s still basically naked himself, dressed in nothing more than a pair of basketball shorts, slung so low on his hips that Louis can see his pubic hair. “Give you time to put your dick away and all.”

Harry pinches his nipple playfully, and they tousle and banter back and forth as Harry helps him dress and then transfer from the bed into his wheelchair. Louis then wheels himself into the bathroom to brush his teeth and sort out his hair, and when he’s done in there he wheels himself back through to find Harry dressed and ready to go.

“Can you make me a tea please, my sweet?”

“I can make you anything you like,” Harry offers, using his shoulder to push open their bedroom door, even though now they’ve had power buttons installed so Louis can get into every room in the house without assistance. But this is typical Harry, ever the gentleman even before Louis needed a little more help with things. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Louis mulls it over as he rolls down the hall towards their kitchen and living area. “Yeah, I suppose I’d better if I’ve got physio.” He beats Harry to the door, and he sticks out his tongue as Harry rolls his eyes and moves to pull it open anyway. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I had a coffee,” says Harry, moving towards the kitchen as Louis rolls into the lounge. “I hadn’t long come back from the gym when Claire rang, to be fair.”

Louis hums and grabs the remote off one of the low tables, turning on the telly. Jeremy Kyle springs into life on the screen, and he finds himself yawning again before he asks, “Have you got the time to make bacon sarnies, do you reckon?”

“Sure thing, babycakes,” Harry says, already pottering around the kitchen. He sets the dishwasher going before he pulls out a frying pan, and Louis finds himself wheeling back over after only a couple of minutes. They make light chat over the sizzle and the crackle of the bacon, then Harry sets to work slicing the bread and buttering it before he pours them both an orange juice.

Louis isn’t really allowed to help out in the kitchen anymore because his injury has played havoc with how his body feels heat, so there’s always a worry he could burn himself and not even realise. However, all the counters and the drawers have been lowered so he can at least hoick out the cutlery and make a good go of setting the table, so that’s exactly what he does.

(They both use their hands to eat their sandwiches. Neither of them comment on this.)

It doesn’t take either of them long to eat, so once they’ve finished up Harry carries both their empty plates over to the sink, not bothering to wash them yet. “Shall I set up in here?”

“Yeah, please,” Louis says, rolling over to the cupboard in the corner where they keep the bulk of his physio gear. “Can you help me roll out my mat and get the weights from the back of the cupboard? I want to do arms today, I think.”

Harry nods and squeezes past Louis to grab the practical Aldi carrier bag they keep Louis’s weights and various other physio equipment and pulls it out before he grabs the yoga mat that Louis likes to lie on for his sessions. Louis reverses and moves himself out the way as Harry unrolls the mat onto the floor and then sets out Louis’s weights onto the sofa arm, before he heads over to the kettle and flicks it on. “What’s the time, babe?”

“9:59,” Louis says, checking on the screen of his iPhone that stays almost permanently nestled between his thighs so he can access it when he needs to. “She’ll be here any minute then.”

“Do you want another cuppa?” Harry asks over the sound of the kettle. “I’m making one for Claire as usual, so speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nah, I best leave it,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t want to need a wee halfway through the session, that’d be a pain in the arse if ever there was one.”

The sessions Louis has with Claire vary week to week, but this week it’s one session at home and then two sessions at one of the gyms in town. His at home sessions usually consist of weight training, stretches and massages under Claire’s careful guidance, and he’s grateful for them because his body really, really needs it. And while Harry is great and has picked up tips and tricks along the way, he’s just not as good as massages and stretches as Claire is, bless him, so he really looks forward to their sessions.

As if summoned by Louis’s thoughts, the doorbells rings. Harry scoots off to answer it and comes back a few seconds later with Claire in tow, who beams when she sees him and rushes forward to give him a hug. “Hi, darling!”

“Hey, love,” Louis grins. “How’s things?”

“Things are good,” she nods, leaning back against the fridge and smirking between the pair of them. “And how are my boys?”

“I’m good, and I think Harry’s alright,” Louis says, sticking out his tongue at his boyfriend when he rolls his eyes. “What? You are alright, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m tip top,” Harry grins, shaking his head so his hair flies all over his shoulders. “Just a bit sleepy, that’s all, but what’s new?”

Claire snorts. “You pair,” she says fondly. “Shall we have a quick cuppa and we’ll talk about what we wanna do today?”

Harry moves over to the kettle, squeezing Louis’s shoulder as he goes, and pops two teabags into empty mugs. Louis wheels himself over to the sofas and Claire follows, catching him up on one of her other clients that Louis has met a time or two through his physio gym in town. He’s laughing when Harry toddles over with three mugs precariously balances in his grasp - a tea each for Louis and Claire, Louis’s with a metal straw, and a strong smelling black coffee for Harry.

“You’re a good boy,” Claire says as she takes the tea from him, taking a hearty swig. Louis sips his slowly through the straw, shooting Harry a look because he didn’t want another tea, he really didn’t, but Harry makes the best tea in the world and he can only be a little mad about that. “Mmmm, delicious as always, Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry says, smirk evident in his voice. He’s avoiding looking at Louis and they both know it. “Do you want anything else while you’re here, Claire? Some toast or anything?”

Claire catches Louis’s eye and they both chuckle as she shakes her head. “I know I’m early but it’s not that early,” she says. “Thanks, Harry, but I’m alright.” She turns to Louis. “Does he always try and overfeed you too?”

“ Hey.”

“Every day,” Louis says sombrely, holding out his hand for Harry to take. Harry pouts. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

“I just don’t want anyone to go hungry,” Harry grumbles. “And I know what you in particular are like when you’re hungry, so I try and steer clear of that wrath.”

“I’m a growing lad,” Louis tells him sternly. “I need lots of food or I’ll waste away. It’s a tough job sitting on your arse all day, you know.”

“You know, my mother always said never work with children or animals,” Claire cuts in. “And you are two of the biggest man children I’ve ever come across.” She sets her mug on the coffee table. “Now shall we do some actual physio?”

“We probably should, shouldn't we?” Louis pretends to ponder, then moves to undo his leg strap. His legs can often spasm from disuse so to be on the safe side he keeps them strapped down, because if he has a big one and there’s nobody around he could run the risk of falling out of his chair. “Did you have anything in mind to do today?”

“That depends, as always,” Claire says, getting to her feet. “Any particular pain or discomfort this week? Anything you want us to work on?”

“It’s always that knot in the back of my bloody leg,” Louis says, sitting back in his chair and letting his legs move up of their own accord, tight and stiff even after only an hour or so in their confines, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “I feel like it’s getting worse.”

Claire nods. “Do you want to transfer to the sofa or the yoga mat?”

“Yoga mat,” Louis tells her. “I find it easier to sprawl on the floor when my legs need doing.”

“Sure,” says Claire. “Harry, can you do the honours?”

Harry nods before he shuffles over to Louis, tucking a strong arm under the backs of his knees as Louis winds his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry lifts him across the room easily and crouches so he can set him down onto the mat. It’s something they’ve done countless times at this point but Louis really does marvel at the way that Harry seems to be more confident in doing it each time, how much stronger it feels like he’s getting, and how much he doesn’t mind it at all anymore.

Now he’s sat on the floor, legs sprawled uselessly in front of him. Harry grabs one of the pillows from the sofa and tucks it behind him so if he does end up toppling backwards it won’t be quite so painful. Claire sits herself opposite him on the floor, legs crossed, and drags Louis’s problem leg into her lap where she gives it a squeeze.

“This the one that’s giving you grief?”

“Yep,” Louis moans, twitching a little as Claire’s fingers work to loosen the tightness in his muscles. “Ooh, fuck. Yeah, it’s that bit there. Shit. ”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Claire sniggers, deft fingers still working away. “Hey, can you flip over for me?”

Louis hums and nods, letting himself fall back against the pillow before using his elbows (and only a little help from Claire) to roll himself over onto his tummy. She works on his legs for a little longer, working a few of the knots out and flexing his toes in her hands, and it’s so relaxing and enjoyable that he almost finds himself dozing off.

Almost.

“Oh, hell no,” her voice cuts through his stupor, and he opens his eyes to find Harry’s face pressed right into his. He’s laughing at Louis, the dickhead, and when he blinks himself back to life properly he sees Claire isn’t even by his legs anymore. She’s on her knees beside him, just behind Harry, arms akimbo. “You can’t fall asleep during a session, Louis! We’ve barely even started.”

Louis groans, pushing Harry’s face away weakly. “He’s not the only one who’s tired, alright?”

“Just means I need to push you harder, I think,” she tells him sternly, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “If it’s your legs that are giving you an issue then that’s what we’ll focus on today. Come on, stop glaring at me. Harry, can you help him sit back up a second?”

“Hello, darling,” Harry says cheerily, sliding an arm under Louis’s shoulders and taking the brunt of his weight as he sits upright. Louis grumps and groans and protests but they all know it’s only in jest and within a couple of minutes he’s woken back up enough to allow Claire to start bending his leg up to his chest, stretching out the muscle even more.

For the next hour and a half, Claire leads him through a variety of exercises for his thighs, his calves and his ankles. It’s exhausting and it’s both physically and mentally draining and by the end of it he’s ready for an actual nap. He’s a little sweaty and a lot thirsty, and when Claire finally calls it a day he collapses back onto the pillow again, his leg kicking weakly against her knee.

“I think you broke them even more.”

“Oh, shut up you,” she chastises gently. “If the work I’m doing is enough to send you to sleep then it’s not going to help you in the long term, is it?”

“We really do appreciate your time and help, Claire,” Harry chimes in, ever the diplomat. “Do you want another cup of tea before you go?”

“No, I need to rush off actually, loves; my next lad is on the other side of town so I’d better get on.” She leans down to give Louis a quick hug from where he’s still lying on the mat, panting but not as heavily as he was a few minutes ago. “See you on Friday, yeah? No need to follow me to the door, I know my way out by now.” She scoops up her bag. “Bye boys, have a nice nap!”

Harry waves her off and then toddles back over to Louis, dropping down onto the floor and sitting cross-legged beside him, using the sleeve of his hoodie to mop some of the sweat from Louis’s brow.

“Can’t believe you fell asleep in the middle of physio, you little bugger.”

“Yes, alright, asshole,” Louis says, sticking out his tongue. “Now, can you lift me up please and take me to our actual bed?”

“Can I or will I?” Harry titters, bending down even further and sticking his face right close to Louis’s.

“Ha ha ha,” Louis says dryly before he waves a fist at Harry, his fingers twitching weakly as he tries and fails to uncurl them. “And can you guess which finger I’m holding up?”

Harry plants a hand each side of Louis’s head, knees each side of Louis’s hips. “Oh, I can hazard a good fucking guess,” he mumbles, then attaches his mouth to Louis’s neck, sucking lightly (and then suddenly not so lightly). “And the thing is, baby, I could pick you up and we could go and take a nap, or I could eat you out on the living floor instead, how does that sound?”

And Louis might be limited in his movement these days, but his body never stopped reacting to Harry’s touches, and he’s still only a man.

It’s a wonder they ever manage to get anything done, honestly.

*

Louis was only 22 when he had the accident that would change his life forever.

As someone who had played 5-a-side football every Thursday night for pretty much his entire adult life, Louis felt at home on the pitch. He’d been playing the beautiful game since he was a toddler and while perhaps not the strongest player out there, he was dedicated, quick on his feet and had a knowledge of the sport unlike the other members of his team. He was captain of the team in secondary school, vice captain of his 5-a-side team, and he really, truly never thought he’d ever stop playing.

It’s almost ironic to him, really, that the thing he loved so much ended up being what hurt him the most. He’s broken his ankle twice, fractured his fibula four times, and he’d even thrown up on the pitch once or twice out of exhaustion and dehydration.

All of that stuff seems relatively insignificant now given that all those injuries, though they felt monumental at the time, were basically nothing. None of them altered his life, none of them lasted more than a few weeks, and he was able to get back on the pitch like nothing had ever happened.

Until the day he tried to tackle a player on the other team, tripped and fell harder than he’d ever fallen before, and just never got back up again.

No, he definitely didn’t see that ever happening.

He was rushed to hospital and immediately into surgery, but he can’t remember any of it. He can’t remember a single thing from after the accident, except lying there on the grass and trying to stand, only to realise he couldn’t stand, and not because he was in too much pain.

He literally, physically couldn’t.

After that it’s a total blur. He remembers being in hospital, lying in a bed that was too small in a ward that was too loud. He remembers everyone speaking to him like he was a child again, but he wasn’t able to get his thoughts out or ask for help or pain relief or anything because he couldn’t speak. Or wouldn’t speak. He still isn’t sure which of the two it was.

Because when the doctor came in and told Louis about what had happened and about what he could expect from his injuries, he had almost wanted to end it there and then.

Paralysed.

Specifically, the break in his neck meant the use of his legs, torso, arms and hands were all compromised. He would no longer be able to walk, run, stand up, dance or play football again, nor would he be able to do… well, at the time it seemed like he’d never be able to do anything ever again. He was going to have to use a wheelchair, undergo extensive treatment and physiotherapy, and had to have several operations before he was even allowed to go home.

Harry was there, of course, and his mum was there and so was the rest of his extended family and his best friends, milling in and out and coming to visit when they could. Everyone wanted to see him and speak with him, but when they did it was all the same. They’d say his name, tilt their head to one side and ask “so how are you feeling?” and it drove him fucking crazy.

He didn’t want to be pitied or babied, for fuck’s sake. He wanted them to tell him he was going to be okay, that this was all some weird and fucked up prank and he was going to wake up the following day right as rain again. This wasn’t his life, this couldn’t be his life; this accident was the kind of thing that happened to other people, but not to people like him.

But that didn’t happen.

Louis will never, ever forget the way Harry cried that day. He will never admit to this, not for all the money in the world, but he lay there pretending to be asleep, nerves and guilt and a thousand other exhausting emotions seeping through him like poison, as Harry sat on the other side of the ward and cried into Lottie’s arms for what felt like hours. And he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t offered comfort of any kind, because what comfort could he offer when he was the reason Harry was crying like that in the first place?

Harry was only a baby, just 20 years old, and suddenly Louis realised how much he’d upended the lives of everyone else around him, but mostly Harry’s. They’d only been living together for six months at this point, still learning how to work dinner in the evenings and laundry and trips to Tesco into their busy schedule. And now they would have to swap all that out to learn how to live… well, like this.

He’d tried to end it with him the next day.

“Are you fucking serious?” Harry had spat at him, cheeks flaming red and eyes pouring with fresh tears. “Don’t you fucking dare try this. You’re a fucking idiot if you think you can just… it’s been three fucking days, Louis, and you’ve not said a fucking word to me or anyone and now… now…”

“Harry,” Louis had forced out, voice croaky and dry from lack of use. He wasn’t far off tears himself. “This is… I can’t ask you to stay with me now, I just can’t.” He hated the fact that he couldn’t even hold his hand at the point, his useless fingers just curled into a fist that he couldn’t uncurl, taunting him. “I won’t be angry if you walk away now, I swear. I’ll get why you’re doing… why you want to stay but I… I think you… you should think about it.”

“Too fucking bad, Louis,” Harry had snapped, running a shaky hand through his limp, greasy hair. He hadn’t been home since that Thursday night and Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he found out he hadn’t slept in that time either. “Too fucking bad. I’m fucking staying and I’m not…” And he hadn’t said anything else on the matter because he was suddenly crying too hard to speak. He stood up and stormed out the room, then came back a few hours later with the doctor and carried on like that conversation had never happened.

And he’s still here, three years and four months on.

Over the next few weeks Louis worked with doctors, nurses, physiotherapists and surgeons to get to grips with and manage his injuries. And they boiled down to this.

An incomplete fracture to his C6 Vertebrae, which resulted in paralysis from his torso down, as well as paralysis in his hands and fingers. While still able to maintain some movement in his elbows, wrists, shoulders and neck, the rest of his body just didn’t respond when he tried to move them, and he tried fucking hard. And on top of that, he would also now suffer with an inability to control bladder and bowel movements, his body would struggle to regulate its temperature, and spasms would occur sporadically.

Fucking fantastic.

He’s learnt how to live with it though. Three years and four months have passed, and he’s seven surgeries in and Louis thinks he’s doing better than ever, given the fact that he was ready to give it all up. He hadn’t seen a way to live like this, but now he’s almost okay with it. Well, maybe not okay with it, because there are days when it hits him harder than others and days when he gets so angry that he can barely function, but he’s better than he’s ever been.

His health is at its peak and he’s stronger than ever, working out four times a week with Claire, his physio, who helps him work weights and stretch his tight limbs and keep his body functioning as best it can while it’s stuck sitting down all the time. He still needs round the clock care and probably will for the rest of his life, but that’s okay. He’s come to terms with that too.

They’ve had to start their days pretty much identically since Louis came home from hospital permanently, which was just over two years ago now. Every other day, their alarm goes off at half past seven on the dot and they both grumble and groan and stay pressed close until Harry’s phone rings, letting them know that their private nurse is 15 minutes away. Harry gets up, goes for a wee himself, then helps Louis remove the urine bag. He helps Louis into his shower chair and then sits himself on the bed, lifting Louis’s legs onto his lap so he can knead at his legs, working out any of the kinks and knots in them until the nurse arrives to help Louis go to the toilet.

The worst bit about his injury, hands down, is the fact that now his boyfriend has to wipe his arse for him.

Realistically he knows he should be over it by now. He’s been with Harry for eight years, and five of those years were before his accident anyway. Harry’s fingered him more times than he’ll ever be able to count, has fucked him and rimmed him and even licked his own cum out of Louis’s arse, but this... is such a completely different setting, such a completely different kind of feeling, that it almost feels alien still, having Harry’s hand perform such a private task when it should be his own.

He’s never voiced that out loud, though. He lets himself burn with his own private humiliation every single day, but he would rather die than voice it out loud. And if Harry has any idea, well, then he doesn’t voice it either.

That seems easier, somehow.

After that, Louis showers, Harry stood behind him to wash his back and his feet and the fiddly little bits of him that he can’t do himself. When the nurse used to shower him he’d keep a flannel over his crotch, but now it’s with Harry he doesn’t really care, lets himself hang free and open like you should be able to when you’re having a wash. Harry tends to strips himself down too and they’ll shower together, which is enjoyable and intimate enough for Louis to feel better, any lingering embarrassment wearing off when he watches Harry wash himself in front of him too.

After that, Louis will roll back to their bed and Harry will help him back on to it, because they’ve both found it to be easier for Louis to put his boxers and trousers on if he’s lying down. Harry then helps him transfer into his wheelchair, then helps him put on a shirt or a hoodie, then once he’s dressed himself they go for breakfast.

They used to live in a top floor apartment, but that stopped being an option the second they realised that Louis was going to be confined to a chair. Luckily for them, they’d been saving for a bigger place anyway, so with what they already had and some help from some friends and family, they were able to convert Harry’s stepdad’s bungalow into a fully accessible house for them. The kitchen worktops were lowered, the bathroom was turned into a wet room with a walk-in shower and plenty of space for Louis’s shower chair, and they were even able to take it from a four-bedroom down to a three, knocking through a wall to make their master bedroom massive, with space for Louis to move around in while still keeping all their original furniture. It was a project, but Louis has never been more grateful for anything in his life.

Thanks to countless donations and the generosity of more people than Louis will ever be able to comprehend they were able to get brand new furniture, including this new custom bed that could be raised and lowered as well as sofas big enough for Louis to both sit and lie on, depending on how much his legs are aching that day. They got a mini fridge that sits next to the big fridge that holds all Louis’s cans of Coke and favourite snacks so he can grab them himself when Harry’s not around, as well as revamping the second biggest bedroom into an office with custom-built desks for Louis to use to work from home. It’s big and it’s brilliant, and Louis does love his work space, even though sometimes he does pine to be back in the office, bantering with the boys and going for drinks straight from work on a weeknight even though he knew he shouldn’t.

But working from home has its benefits too, and sometimes they outweigh the nostalgias. When he worked in an office he didn’t get a lie-in three times a week, nor did he get to cuddle his boyfriend whenever he felt like it. Here he gets to have mates over whenever he wants and nobody can tell him he can’t watch all three Lord of the Rings films starting at 11am on a Tuesday morning because he is doing his work while he watches it (kind of). He can do his work in his pyjamas and order Chinese and then fuck work off for a bit because he’s bored or tired or wants a break.

He gets to pretty much run his own life now, make his own schedules and plan his own days and be a freer man, even if he’s lost that freedom in another respect. But even though that sucks, he gets to see his family more now, spend time with his younger siblings and Niall’s little girl and watch them grow up. He gets to tag along to Harry’s work trips, eating out at lovely expensive restaurants for free and calling it a job, and all the while just spending time with his man, time they never got to spend with each other before in their conflicting work schedules.

So yeah, maybe breaking your neck isn’t ideal and being confined to a wheelchair definitely sucks dick, but Louis is learning to make the most of it and he thinks he’s getting better at that with every passing day. Gone are the days when he used to cry about it when nobody else was around and gone is the time for moping. He has his down days about it all, of course he does, but they’re definitely not as frequent as they used to be, and he’s glad. He’s got a life to live, a job to do, a family to love and a recovery to undergo. Moping will just get in the way.

It is what it is, after all .

*

Wednesday is usually Lad’s Night - always has been and probably always will be - but this Wednesday Liam rings Louis in the early morning and asks if he wants to go to the pub later, just the two of them.

“I mean, sure,” Louis answers in between mouthfuls of Coco Pops. “But what about the rest of the lads?”

“Niall has to take Lucy to her hospital appointment with Hailee,” Liam tells him. “And Zayn’s woken up with a migraine, bless him, so he’s having the day in bed. I think the stress of this deadline is getting to him.”

“I heard that!” yells Zayn’s tinny voice in the background. “And you can fuck off!”

Louis snorts as Liam coos something sweet and only mildly patronising Zayn’s way. “Well, that actually works out okay for me because I think Gemma’s dropping some stuff round for Haz later on, and you know what he’s like. He’ll wanna spend time with her without me there but he’ll be too polite to say anything.”

“Perfect,” Liam says brightly, then Louis hears some shuffling on the other end. “Shall I pick you up around 6? And we’ll get dinner there?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect.” Louis makes a mental note to ring Harry and let him know all this, another thing to add to his list of a million and one things to do today. “Text me when you’re setting off from work and I’ll be ready for when you’re here.”

“Looking forward to it, bro,” Liam says cheerily before sounding off a cheery goodbye and hanging up. Louis finishes up his last bite of cereal and pushes the bowl away, then reverses away from the table and wheels himself out the kitchen back to his office, glad to have something to look forward to after a full day of work. Harry’s out for the day, some business meeting down in London, so he’s on his own for a bit before Lottie comes round in about an hour to be his babysitter for the day, helping him if he needs a wee and just generally be there just in case.

His work have been nothing but understanding about cutting his hours and reducing his workload, and Louis is so grateful for it because there’s no way in hell he’d ever want to give up working all together, no matter how severe his injury.

Thankfully, he’s been able to get a studio set up in the house and with a little help from one of the company’s tech geniuses and some external funding they were able to create him a functional desktop and set him up with a custom mouse and drawing pad.

He never lost his creativity nor his enthusiasm, and he happily works 18 hours a week from home, designing the posters and developing resources for a film and theatre company. It’s been a little odd going from a 40+ hour week to this, but honestly, Louis has no idea how he had the time for a full time job before because he barely seems to be able to fit these hours in some weeks.

Today he’s working on a billboard design for an upcoming tour of Kinky Boots, and he buries his head in Photoshop until he hears Lottie let herself in.

“Lou?”

“In here,” he calls, turning his chair so he can greet her. She comes trudging through looking perfectly put together as always, and he opens his arms for a hug when she’s near enough. “Hi, darling.”

“Hey,” she says, pulling back. “Whatcha working on?”

“Billboard poster for Kinky Boots,” Louis says, turning back to his desk. “I’m trying to think of a clever design that doesn’t involve, like, actual kinky boots, you know?”

Lottie snorts. “Oh. That seems… almost too clever for me, sorry Lou.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t think it can be done, to be fair. I don’t have a lot of time - I need to get the first draft sent back over to Dave by Friday, and I’m out tonight and tomorrow, so. I’d better crack on.”

He can practically hear Lottie rolling her eyes. “Yes, alright, I’ll get out your hair. What time do you want lunch, and what do you want?”

“Pizza?” Louis says hopefully, turning around again to blink at her in what he hopes is a convincing manner. It always seems to work on Harry, so why not give it a go on his sister? “Domino’s? I’ll pay, obviously.”

“You’ve become so demanding in your old age,” Lottie comments with a laugh.

Louis juts out his bottom lip. “No, please, you don’t understand. Last night Harry made me fucking quinoa then got all offended when I told him it tasted like cardboard. Like, he didn’t put anything else in there, just served it up next to this, like, barely seasoned pork chop. Lottie, it was awful. ”

Lottie roars with laughter as Louis continues to pout. “Yes, alright, I’ll order us a pizza. I’ll come find you in about an hour to order?” Louis beams from ear to ear and nods. “Fab. I’m gonna go and do some editing in the lounge, stick last night’s Love Island on catch up.”

“Go for it,” Louis calls, waving her off. “See you in a bit!”

Harry is less than impressed when he comes back from London to find pizza boxes in the recycling bin. Luckily for Louis, his train home ran late so when he gets home it’s just as Liam arrives to pick him up, Lottie having helped him change into a nicer shirt before she’d quiffed his hair for him.

“I’m going out for dinner with Liam okay Gemma texted not long ago saying she’ll be here in half an hour have a good dinner with her I love you byeee,” he rushes out, waving a limp hand in Harry’s direction. “Run, Liam, run!”

“ Christ, Louis, don’t drag me into your domestics,” Liam grumbles, but he’s laughing. “Right, remind me how it’s easiest for me to do this.”

Louis pops the breaks down so his chair is nice and secure, then sits himself up a little straighter. “How confident are you that you can lift me entirely?”

“Um, fairly,” Liam says, voice wavering a little. Louis can see Harry watching from the front window so, like the wind up merchant he is, holds out his arms and pretends to whimper.

“Lift me, oh strong knight in shining armour.”

“Is Harry- oh, for fuck’s sake, does Harry have to watch this?” Liam whines as he bends at the knees, sliding a careful arm under Louis’s thighs and using the other to secure his back. “Is this okay? Am I doing it right?”

“You’re fine,” Louis assures, wrapping his arms tightly around Liam’s neck. “Now lift me into the seat and just make sure I’m as upright as possible… woah, alright, warn a guy!”

“You’re literally in my arms, how much more warning do you need?” shrills Liam. But he does as he’s told, raising Louis more easily than Louis had expected up and into the passenger seat. Screw Harry and his healthy eating; clearly he’s not too heavy for this. “How’s this, you comfy?”

“Yeah, good,” Louis says, shifting as best he can to the left so Liam can buckle him in. “Are we heading to The Dog and Duck then, yeah?”

“Obviously,” Liam says, folding Louis’s wheelchair up and sliding it into the backseat of the car. “Zayn might come a little bit later if he’s feeling up to it, but I wanted to have dinner with you first, I’ve got some things I wanna talk to you about on your own.”

Louis pretends to gasp. “You’re breaking up with me?”

Liam snorts. “Hilarious, aren’t you? Best friends since we were 3 and I’m booting you while at our favourite pub on the night they do our favourite meals.”

“You’ve done worse to me,” Louis titters, nudging Liam with his elbow when he goes to put the car in reverse. “You missed my graduation.”

“You missed your own fucking graduation, Louis.”

“Yeah, because I was in hospital, not because I wanted to,” Louis sniffs, pretending to be indignant. And before Liam would have coughed and spluttered and probably attempted to apologise profusely, but now he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Be nice to me, I’ve had a fucking long day at work.”

“Did that kid call you an Aldi version of David Beckham again?”

“Why would you bring that up?” Liam whines. Then he sighs. “It’s not that kid, for once. It’s just shit, like, now some of the younger kids have realised I’m a PE teacher who is living with another man. They’re, um, not always the kindest, let’s put it that way.”

“Oh, Li,” Louis says with a sad sigh. “Really? That’s fucking wank.” He scratches awkwardly at his leg, feeling bloody guilty now. “Have you had a word with the headteacher about it or anything?”

“Nah.” Liam shrugs. “Why, do you think I should?”

“Absolutely,” Louis says vehemently. “Don’t they teach fucking sex ed in schools anymore? Christ. Why has it got to be the biggest deal?”

Liam shrugs weakly. “I dunno, Lou, it wasn’t anything, like, majorly bad if I look at it now. Just what you’d expect from bratty kids, like, jokes about bumming and stuff like that.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “It’s really no big deal, I don’t even know why I brought it up.”

“No, I’m not having that,” Louis says snappily. “You’re a good fucking teacher, Liam, and if you let them get away with this then they’ll think they can walk all over you which is something they can’t do. You’re the teacher, you can be the one to fail them at the end of the day, you’re an adult that they need to learn to respect and they’ll do well to remember that.”

Liam snorts humorlessly. “Thanks, Lou.” He sighs. “I wish it felt that easy when I’m at work.”

“Want me to sort them out?” Louis offers, and the pair share a laugh because that’s how it’s always been. Liam’s always been physically the bigger and the stronger of the pair, but it was always Louis getting into fights in his honour in school. Liam would never ask him to because he hated the idea of getting either of them in trouble, but Louis hadn’t given a shit back them. Liam was his best friend, and if anyone thought they were getting away with being a little bitch then they were sorely mistaken.

“Yeah, go on then,” Liam giggles, reaching out to pat Louis’s arm as they pull up to a traffic light. “Sort them out like you sorted out Nick Pearson in Year 11.”

“Listen,” Louis says sharply, crossing his arms. “How the fuck was I meant to know the kid was a fucking taekwondo pro? He looked weedy as shit.”

“Weedy as shit until he gave you a bloody nose,” Liam mutters.

“Yeah, and he wasn’t even doing taekwondo when he gave me that, the little cunt.”

“Alright, I’m sorry I brought tha t up,” Liam says, raising a hand in mock protest. “What have you been up to today anyway?”

Laughing, Louis launches into an explanation of his Kinky Boots quandary and by the time Liam looks thoroughly baffled and as stumped by it all as Louis feels, they’ve arrived at their favourite pub; the pub that they’ve been going to since they were teenagers, the pub where they bought their first pints and watched all their World Cup matches and got themselves kicked out of every Saturday night of their Sixth Form years. It’s as much a part of their lives as their own houses are at this point, and Louis is convinced he’ll be drinking there until the day he dies.

All the staff know them there; Paul, the owner and one of his stepdad’s good mates has been a key player in helping Louis raise money for his fund, hosting all kinds of events out of the pub. He also made sure that every bit of the pub was fully accessible and paid out of his own pocket for a ramp that means Louis can get up to the games area, so even though he can’t play darts or snooker anymore he can still be around his mates while they all do.

Yeah, Louis will never find another pub to drink in.

Liam assists him back into the chair and pushes him through the entranceway, and there’s a lot of familiar faces inside that they both wave to. They rock up to their usual booth and Louis slides his legs under the table before popping the breaks on his chair, and within seconds Paul is over to them, clapping both lads on the shoulder in greeting.

“Boys!” he crows. Louis grins - he’s glad some things have never changed, even after all this time. “Feel like I’ve not seen you two lads in ages. How you keeping?”

“Same old, same old,” Louis chirps, Liam nodding behind him. “How are you, Pauly? How’s the wife?”

“She’s grand,” Paul says with a nod, clapping Louis’s shoulder again. “And your boy?”

“He’s grand as well,” Louis says, beaming. “With his sister tonight so I thought I’d bring young Liam out for a bit, like old times, yanno?”

“Hey, this was my idea!” Liam says, pretending to pout.

Paul roars with laughter and shakes his head. “You two, eh? What am I gonna do with you?”

“Bring us a couple of beers maybe?” Louis tries, his grin never faltering. Paul rolls his eyes.

“Yes, sir!” he says, pretending to salute, then he disappears back behind the bar to pull them each a pint.

“You would never have gotten away with that shit if you had working legs,” says Liam dryly.

Louis roars a laugh. “I know right. It’s amazing the shit I get away with now. It’s literally one of the only perks.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Dickhead. Do you want to look at a menu?”

“Why?” Louis snorts. “It’s Wednesday, ain’t it?”

“True,” Liam says, setting out a knife and fork for each of them from the pot on the side of the table. “Fish and chips and mushy peas it is then.”

Paul returns with their beers and they banter away for a little longer before he disappears back to the bar with their orders - Wednesday night has been Fish & Chips Night at the place for as long as any of them can remember, and it’s one of Louis’s favourite things to eat in the whole world. It’s not long before Josh, one of the familiar faces from the kitchen and one of Louis and Liam’s schoolmates, is carrying out two great big plates of food for them; hefty portions of beer battered cod, proper chunky homemade chips, and the only mushy peas Louis would ever consider eating, practically overflowing.

“Thanks so much,” Louis says, practically licking his lips as the meal is set down in front of him. “You’re a wizard, Joshua, honestly.”

“Such a compliment coming from you, Lou,” Josh snorts as he pretends to cuff him round the back of the head. “How are you doing anyway? Haven’t seen you in a while, have we?”

“Just been busy with physio and work and that,” Louis says, beaming at Liam as he slides Louis’s plate towards him and starts to cut up his fish. “And Harry’s been in and out of the office a lot for a change.” He reaches for the ketchup, then nudges that towards Liam too. “And how’s Shawn? He keeping alright too?”

“He’s great,” Josh says. Shawn, Josh’s other half, plays on the same team that Louis used to, and the four of them had gone on double dates together a time or two. “He’s looking to move jobs, you know, get some better hours in because we don’t see each other as much as we’d like, but he’s great.”

“When’s your next evening off?” Louis asks. “We’ll have to go for drinks or dinner or something.” He picks up his fork as Liam slides his plate back. “Thanks Li, you’re a gem.”

“Mmmm, Friday?”

“Sound, I’ll talk to Haz and see if he’s free then, then drop you a text?”

“Sound,” Josh echoes, then turns back towards the kitchen with a fleeting wave. “See you lads soon!”

Louis’s grinning as he digs into his meal. “This is delicious.”

“It always is,” Liam agrees, buttering a slice of bread. He slides one piece over to Louis and then picks up another piece for himself. “I literally don’t think I’m ever going to find a pub as much as I love this one anywhere else ever. Even if Zayn and I do eventually move I don’t think anything will ever beat this one.”

“I was literally just thinking this earlier,” Louis chirps, and then, “Wait. What did you just say?”

Liam suddenly becomes very interested in his slice of bread. “I, um. This is the best pub in the world?”

“No,” Louis says slowly. “That bit about you and Zayn moving away.” His eyebrows are practically in his hairline. “Is there something you want to tell me? Because you’re not allowed to move away.”

“Um,” Liam says again, then looks up at Louis with bright, shiny eyes. “I have something to tell you, actually. It’s kind of the reason I, um, just invited you tonight and not the others. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Louis has a feeling he knows what Liam’s about to say, but he can’t wait to hear it from him.

“I… so I may have asked Zayn to marry me last night…”

“You did?” Louis yells, throwing down his fork and clapping his hands together. “Oh my god, Liam. ”

People are definitely looking over at their table but for once Louis couldn’t give a single fuck.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you plan something!”

“I didn’t tell anyone, ” Liam says defensively, then reaches up to the collar of his t-shirt to pull out a necklace that Louis hadn’t even noticed. Louis’s eyes are wide when he sees the gold band nestled there and his heart soars with excitement and love and pride. “I was too scared someone would talk me out of it or something, I dunno.”

“So you’re engaged,” Louis says, and it comes out strangled. “You’re engaged?”

“I’m engaged,” Liam echoes, and Louis lets out an almighty shriek, awkwardly reversing his wheelchair out from under the table before he shoots himself forward into Liam’s (thankfully ready) arms. “Fuck, Lou. I’m engaged. ”

“Oh my god, I’m so fucking happy,” Louis sing-songs, mostly muffled by Liam’s shoulder. “Fuck. Fuck. This is such a good day, such a good day!” He rolls back and claps his fists together. “You two deserve this, bro. You so deserve this. I’m so fucking happy.”

“So you keep saying,” Liam laughs, reaching over to squeeze Louis’s hand. “We told our families last night but I wanted to tell you in person, because I have something I want to ask you.”

Louis’s stomach lurches. “You…”

“Louis, will you be my best man?” Liam asks, grin so wide his cheeks look ready to split.

“I… Of fucking course!” Louis shrieks, then rolls right back into Liam’s arms. He honest to god feels like he’s floating. “Oh my fucking god, Li. Really?”

“Really?” Liam deadpans, hands on Louis’s shoulders. “Did you really think I would ask anyone else?” He shakes Louis gently. “Best mates since we were 3, remember?”

“Well, yes, but…” Louis cuts himself off before he can say what he doesn’t want to say, because this is too happy of a moment for him and his wheelchair woes to bring down. “Whatever. I can’t wait. I can’t wait. ”

Behind them, a champagne cork pops and they both jump, but it’s only Paul coming up behind them, an overflowing bottle of fizz clutched tightly in his fist. “Eyyyy, lads!” he cheers, pulling Liam into a tight hug. “Congrats, boyo, congrats.”

“Thanks,” Liam says, cheeks pink. “You didn’t have to do this though, Paul.”

“Course I did,” Paul guffaws, flopping down into a spare seat where he starts pouring the champagne into flutes. He hands the first to Liam, the second to Louis. “On the house, of course. It’s not everyday one of my best customers gets engaged, is it?”

Louis laughs as Liam blushes down to his neck and sips his bubbly as Paul starts asking a thousand and one questions about location and dates and food and everything Liam doesn’t seem to have an answer for. “Oh, give it a rest, Paul,” he titters playfully, pretending to swat at him. “They only got engaged last night, Liam will be fucked if he’s got any idea about any of this stuff.”

Paul rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he says gruffly, “I’ll stop with the third degree.” Liam looks relieved, bless him. “But you best hold your reception here, boy, or else they’ll be trouble.”

Liam and Louis both snort. “I’m sure that’s one thing I can say for certain this early on,” Liam laughs. “We’d never dream of having it anywhere else, Pauly, you know this.”

“Good,” Paul says, clapping him on the back.

The rest of the evening flies by. Louis and Liam finish up their now-lukewarm dinners, Paul fetches them both some cake and ice cream, and they leave just before he rings the last orders bell because they both unfortunately have work in the morning.

They only have the one glass each because Liam is driving and they both know that when Louis starts he doesn’t stop, so after another round of hugs and further promises to show their faces more often, they head out the door and back to Liam’s car. They chat about possible stag do ideas the whole drive back and when they pull up outside Louis’s bungalow and Liam sets Louis back into his chair, Louis can’t help but pull him into another tight squeeze.

“Did the champagne get to your head more than we thought?” Liam snorts, but returns the hug anyway. “What’s this for?”

“I think ending up in a wheelchair has just made me soppier, to be honest with you,” Louis giggles as he pulls back. “Honestly, I might even cry on your wedding day.”

“There’s a novelty,” Liam says dryly. “Here, do you have your house keys?”

Louis nods, but as he starts rummaging in his little bag the front door opens anyway. Even in the dark Louis can see Harry’s raised eyebrows and soft grin, and he rolls himself down the pathway towards his house and his boyfriend. “Hi, darling.”

“What time do you call this?” Harry says in lieu of a greeting, pretending to peer at an imaginary watch. “You pair of dirty stopouts.”

“I’m getting married, Haz,” Liam says softly, stopping a few feet from the front door. Harry gapes at him. “Sorry, it’s my fault he’s back so late.”

“I’m… I’m fucking joking, Li, shit,” Harry says, already striding forward to pull him into a hug. “Come here, oh my god. ”

Louis grins up at the pair, two of his favourite people in the whole world, and ignores the pang of jealousy in his stomach about wanting to be involved the hug too.

“Congratulations,” Harry says, voice cracking on the final syllable. It doesn’t take a genius to see the lad is seconds off crying. “I… oh, Li, I’m so happy for you both. This is… fuck , I’m so excited and happy.”

“You sound just like your bloody boyfriend,” Liam chuckles. “I know you’re fucking happy for me, Haz, I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

Both Louis and Harry shoot him the same dry look at the same time and they all end up dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Louis doesn’t think he’s been this happy in a fucking long time, honestly.

“Come in, let’s have a drink!” Harry says, tilting his head towards the front door before he goes to push Louis up the little ramp to get into the house. “I want to hear all the details. All of them!”

Liam ends up staying until it’s almost midnight, and Louis has to practically shoo him out because poor Harry looks mere minutes off falling asleep and he needs him to put him to bed. But he leaves with the promise of a slap-up meal the following night at one of their favourite restaurants, their treat, and the same dopey smile he’s been wearing ever since he told Louis the news.

“Wanna go to bed?” Harry asks, punctuated by a yawn. Louis nods and heads towards their room, aware of Harry trailing behind him. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have to,” Louis says with a groan. “Got a deadline for Friday. What about you?”

“Yeah, but from home too,” Harry says, then yawns again. “Hey, do you wanna go to bed bed yet or can we just have a cuddle for a bit before we sleep?”

“I’m always here for a cuddle,” Louis chuckles. He moves his chair as close as he can to the bed and glances up at Harry, who’s currently unbuckling his jeans. “Do you want to do a transfer with the board if you’re tired?”

“No, I got you,” Harry assures, and once he’s down to just his boxers he helps Louis lower the bed, then carefully lifts him out of the chair and into it. “Boxers or naked tonight?”

“I don’t care,” Louis says with a giggle and a shrug. “I love you and all but I think sex may be off the table for tonight, so boxers maybe.”

“Sorry, baby,” Harry says sheepishly as he fumbles with the laces on Louis’s Converse. He slides one off, dropping it to the floor haphazardly, then starts fighting with the other. “I just feel like I’ve had, like, the longest day ever and it’s not even been that long.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Louis asks gently, lifting his hips ready for Harry to slide his jeans down his legs.

“Nah, let’s talk about the fact our best friends are getting fucking married and you’re gonna be Liam’s best man, how fucking brilliant is that?” Harry beams. “Bet you’re buzzing.”

“Oh my god, I really am,” Louis says, letting his head fall back against the pillow as he grins dopily. “Part of me kind of already knew it’d be me, I think, but then part of me didn’t want to assume, you know? But I’m so happy he finally asked Zayn and asked me and just… oh, fuck, it’s just all so exciting, isn’t it? Our little boys are growing up so fast.”

He opens his eyes as he feels Harry’s deft hands go to open the flies of his jeans, and he makes the same joke he’s made every night for almost two years now.

“Trying to get into my pants, are we Styles?”

Harry snorts a laugh and carries on undressing Louis, shaking his head fondly. “You know I am,” he titters, then once Louis is trouser-free he coughs and hides his face behind his hair before he says, “So, would Liam be best man for you at our wedding?”

That takes Louis aback. He hasn’t thought about his own wedding… well, at all really. “I mean, probably,” he says with a shrug, then grins. “Almost definitely now I’m going to be his.” And his grin only grows bigger as he continues to think about it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m pretty sure he would be. Who would be yours?”

“Mitch,” Harry says without missing a beat. “Or maybe Niall, I dunno.”

“You do know,” Louis chuckles. When Harry moves up to unbutton his shirt he wraps his arms around his neck and tugs him upward so they’re pressed nose to nose, and Harry goes almost cross-eyed as Louis stares into him. “Do you think about our wedding a lot, baby?”

“I, um, yeah, I mean, I think about it from time to time,” Harry mumbles. A delicious flush creeps up his neck and Louis can’t help but grin even wider, pleased as punch. “I’ve been thinking about it a bit more these last few months, not gonna lie.”

“You wanna marry me?” Louis coos, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. He tugs sharply and Harry bites his lip, but it doesn’t do much to mask his gasp. “You wanna make me yours for the rest of our lives?”

“ Yes,” Harry moans as he moves himself up onto the bed properly, then they’re kissing like they’re teenagers again, licking into each other’s mouths and pressing their bodies together, trying to get as close to each other as physically possible. Harry rests his thigh in between Louis’s and curls an arm around his back, and they kiss until they both can’t breathe with it.

“I wanna marry you so bad,” Harry whispers against Louis’s collarbone when they’ve broken apart. He uses his thumb to wipe a little of the dampness from Louis’s lips, then he giggles softly. “I have such a picture of it in my mind, I have to tell you. It’s gonna be such a good day.”

Louis feels giddy when he asks, “So how does the day go then? What can I expect?”

“Well, we’re getting married in a beautiful stately home, obviously,” Harry starts, pulling Louis in even closer. They don’t often get to lie face to face like this anymore, because Louis has to sleep on his side facing the wall to avoid getting tangled up with his tubes, so they both really relish moments like this.

“ Obviously,” he echoes cheekily, and Harry pinches his cheek.

“Do you want me to walk you through this or not?” he asks, and Louis nods. “Okay, good. So we get married in a stately home in Yorkshire, and all our family and friends are there, of course. It’s not big but it’s not small. I’d like to think there’s going to be about 200 guests.”

Louis nods again, a little dazed. That seems pretty damn big to him, but Harry’s barreling on before he can query it.

“And we’re both wearing these matching suits, blue silk and custom made for us, obviously. We book out the whole place and we all sleep there the night before, have a massively fancy rehearsal dinner in the grand dining room or whatever. And then in the morning we stay apart for a bit because obviously it’s bad luck to get ready with each other before the ceremony, but it won’t be for long because we’re getting married in the early afternoon. And it’ll be in the spring so it won’t be too warm or too cold, so we can take our photos outside but the party afterwards will be inside, in the grand dining room again maybe.”

“But in terms of the actual ceremony, you’re waiting me for at the altar, because I’m the princess here and I get to walk down the aisle to you, and you greet me with such a big, beautiful smile because you’ve not seen me yet and you miss me and because we’re going to spend the rest of our fucking lives together.”

“Isn’t that, like, a tad old-fashioned?” Louis chimes in. “Like, just because we’re both men doesn’t mean one of us has to be waiting for the other.”

“But I want you to be,” Harry pouts. “I have it all planned out, Louis, don’t interrupt.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Louis says, holding up a hand in mock defence. “Please continue.”

“And then we have the ceremony and I cry all the way through,” Harry says, and Louis has to laugh at that. He can one hundred percent see this happening. “And then afterwards we kiss and we kiss some more and then we dance the night away and get really drunk and then make love for hours in the bridal suite or whatever giant bed the hotel can offer us.” He looks so happy and content that Louis has to kiss him again, he just has to.

“And when do we see this happening?” he hears himself asking before he can stop himself. “Soon? Or a few years down the road?”

“Well, that depends,” Harry shrugs. “I want to marry you when you want to marry me, so it’s whenever you feel ready, baby.”

“I wanna marry you,” Louis murmurs, “so much. I can’t believe I never really thought about it before but now… now I wanna marry you tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

The grin that spreads across Harry’s face is brilliant and beaming, and Louis can’t stop kissing him tonight, he really can’t. “Okay, that’s… that’s really fucking good to know,” Harry says with a soft laugh. And then Louis starts laughing too, because the whole thing seems so absurd, two people who have been together for eight fucking years finally having the conversation about whether they want to marry each other. “You make me so happy, Louis, fuck.”

“Fuck,” Louis echoes, burying his face into Harry’s warm chest. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me? Like, seriously?”

“I think I have an idea,” Harry smirks. “Because I’m kinda the same way for you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Do our suits really have to be blue though?” Louis has to ask, and Harry throws his head back in a laugh, a loud, raucous sound that Louis loves so much. “I don’t know if blue is my colour.”

“Everything is your colour,” Harry tells him, and suddenly they’re kissing again. It’s an overwhelming conversation and Louis is so glad Harry seems as affected by it all as he is, because right now he feels like he’s floating. “ Oh, and I’m the one that’s proposing to you, by the way. Don’t get any funny ideas about how you’re doing it because I’ve got this all planned out too.”

“You can’t be the one to propose and the one to walk down the aisle to me,” Louis protests. “What do I get to do then?”

“Whatever else you want,” Harry says. “Obviously there’s some stuff that is firmly non-negotiable here but, like, in terms of everything else, like, it’s your call.”

“ Obviously, ” Louis mocks again, then kisses the pout off Harry’s lips. “Alright, darling, alright. Whatever you want.” He frowns. “Although maybe I jumped the gun a little saying I’d marry you tomorrow. I’ve got a big fucking deadline so I can’t really spare you the time.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “We have time, Louis. Plus, now I know it can be soon then I can actually start planning my proposal rather than just daydreaming about it, you know?”

“I love you,” Louis says gently, softly, trailing his knuckles across Harry’s cheek. He honestly has no idea how he got so lucky. “I love you and I’m so grateful to have you, and I don’t know how to thank you for being you sometimes.”

“Just… just say yes, will you?” Harry says, eyes wide. “You will say yes when I ask, like, this is something you want for us, isn’t it?”

“Of course I’ll say yes, you tit.” Louis pretends to punch him. “I kinda knew we’d get there eventually but, like, obviously things happened and things got rearranged, but I can’t ever picture myself wanting to not be with you. That’s something that’ll never change for me, Haz, and I’m, like, so unbelievably happy it hasn’t changed for you, you know, after everything.”

Harry frowns. “Why would it?”

“Harry, I’m a pain in the arse at the best of times, but now I’m a pain in the arse who requires round the clock care because his legs don’t work.” Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re only 23 years old, yet here you are talking about marrying a quadriplegic and signing up for a life of that round the clock care, so.” He shrugs. “Like… you never owed me staying just because we were together before the accident, you know? I would have let you go if you didn’t want this to be your life.” He shrugs again. “It would have broken my fucking heart but I would have understood, you know?”

Harry’s voice is shaky when he says, “Don’t think like that. Don’t ever think like that, Louis, Christ. It’s bullshit, like… it’s fucking bullshit, okay?” He sniffs weakly. “I couldn’t give a shit whether your legs work or not, Louis. I chose you back then and I still choose you now, and I’ll always fucking choose you, okay? You’re my Louis. Don’t… just don’t, okay? Because hearing that you’ve ever thought that is… that hurts, a little bit, but it also... it’s bullshit.” For a terrifying split second, Louis thinks he’s fucked up and made him cry, but he doesn’t. “I love you so much, alright? And if you ever have doubts or need any kind of reassurance or whatever, please come and talk to me. Please.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out weakly. “Harry…”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t promise we will be together forever, Louis, I can’t, but we’re here talking about marriage and that’s about as permanent as you can get.” Harry stares him down for a few seconds, stroking stray pieces of hair behind his ears, and Louis doesn’t know what to say to him so he just doesn’t say anything. “I know we’re unconventional and I know we can’t do the same shit that other couples can or whatever but I still would rather fall asleep with you than anyone else in the world, and that’s… that’s all I’m gonna say, because if I carry on I’ll probably cry.”

“Harry, I’m sorry…” Louis starts, but Harry shakes his head, cutting him off.

“No, Lou, it’s fine, it’s like… I need to know how you’re feeling, right? And I don’t want you to say yes to marrying me based on some kind of, like, obligation because I’m not the only one who could feel obligated to stay…”

Louis’s mouth drops open in horror. “Shut the fuck up, Harry, Jesus . I just said I’d marry you tomorrow and I fucking mean it, and I don’t ever want this to become a big deal just because I get insecure sometimes.” He pulls himself up closer to Harry, cradling his head to his chest as best he can, and Harry lets him. “This conversation has helped, I swear. I hope you know how much I trust you, because I do, with my life , and…”

Harry cuts him off with a harsh kiss, one with bite and passion and some much emotion that Louis almost tears up from it. It’s tender and it’s brilliant and Louis goes pliant in Harry’s strong hold, letting him roll them over so he’s hovering over him. The room feels hot and the energy between them feels charged, and pretty soon Louis feels the familiar tug low in his belly, his cock stirring in interest.

And from the looks of things, Harry’s in a similar state.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Louis hisses, and he keeps his hold on Harry tight as he manipulates Louis’s legs so they’re open wide, then kisses him and kisses him as Harry does the bulk of the work, grinding down and fucking their crotches together until they’ve both made a mess of their boxers.

(Louis is eternally grateful that his injury hasn’t stopped him from being able to get hard. In many cases of paralysis, the man is only able to get hard from reflex erections, but as Louis’s injury is classed as an incomplete break, he’d been fortunate enough that his cock still reacts when touched, and even though he can’t always achieve orgasm anymore, he still enjoys the sensation and the closeness that having sex with Harry brings. And tonight he was able to come, which is just the icing on the cake, really.)

“And you thought sex wasn’t on the cards,” Harry mumbles in between lazy kisses. Louis chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

“Oh, shut up,” Louis titters. He’s comfy in Harry’s hold but he’s a little further down the bed than he’d like to be, so he tries to wiggle his way back up. “Hey, can you just move me back onto the pillows a little?”

Harry nods, gripping him by the hips and shifting him up a little. Louis smiles and whispers a thank you, then pouts as Harry sits back on his haunches and starts wrestling Louis’s sticky boxers down.

“So you really are just trying to get into my pants.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry mocks, peeling them down his legs and wrinkling his nose. “You can sleep in sticky boxers if you’d really like.”

“No thank-you,” Louis says primly, wincing a little as the cold air hits his naked body. Harry climbs off the bed then climbs out of his own soiled boxer briefs, then disappears into the bathroom, presumably to get a flannel. He hears the tap running, then the loo flushes, then by the time he’s back in the room with a warm, wet cloth Louis’s teeth have started chattering.

“Why didn’t you call me back in?” Harry says sternly as he runs the flannel down Louis’s thighs and over his crotch. “I’m only in the next room, idiot, it’s not like I have to come far.”

“Alright, calm down, princess,” Louis snaps. “It’s because you’re only in the next room that I didn’t. You weren’t going to be long and you weren’t, like, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Harry groans. “Alright, I’m sorry, I just…” He uses his dry hand to push his long hair out of the way, behind his ears. “You worry me all the time, dickhead.”

“I know,” Louis says, partly defensive and partly just tired. “And I’m sorry, but it’s not that big of a deal, it’s just…” He groans himself, resting a hand over his eyes. “I don’t want to argue with you because we’ve basically just agreed to get married and I already upset you tonight, I don’t wanna do it again.”

“I’m not upset now,” Harry insists. “And I know it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal to you, and maybe it shouldn’t be as big of a deal to me, I dunno, but here we are. I worry about you more than I think I need to, but that’s... “ He trails off, scratching at his head. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a prick, to be honest Louis.”

“I don’t think you need to say anything,” Louis says pragmatically. “I know what you’re trying to say and I know… I just know. And I promise you, Harry, I absolutely promise you that if I feel I’m in danger or I’m really, truly uncomfortable or I know something isn’t right then I will be telling you, yeah? Because it’s not about me being insecure or stubborn or whatever, it’s like…” He sighs. “Will you just come here? So I can kiss you?”

Harry crawls back onto the bed and then tugs the covers over both of them, kissing Louis ever so softly and gently. “I don’t mean to have a go…”

“I know, baby,” Louis reassures, patting his cheek lightly. “I know. This whole situation sucks.”

“It doesn’t suck…”

“Harry, it fucking sucks,” Louis says dryly, giving him a look. “I hate the fact that I feel like a liability and I hate the fact we have to have conversations like this so regularly, like I fucking hate it.”

“But you’re not a liability…”

“And you’re welcome to repeat that all you want, darling, but it still won’t make me believe it,” Louis tells him, but his voice goes softer, sadder, as he says it. “I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, yeah?” He shrugs weakly against the pillows. “Can we just leave it at that for tonight? Please?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, then rests his head on Louis’s chest. “Yeah, we can.”

They lie there in silence for a bit, their slightly laboured breathing the only real sound in the room. Louis feels himself dozing off, knackered out both emotionally and physically from the sex, when he feels Harry start to shift and sit up, so he cracks an eye open.

“What’s up, love?”

Harry is looking at him with a strange mix of intensity and fond. “You know I love you so much too, don’t you? And that I want to spend the rest of my life with you as well?”

And Louis finds himself grinning from ear to ear again, that familiar warmth that comes from being so in love he doesn’t know what to do with himself flooding over his whole body again.

“ Obviously. ”

Harry pinches the inside of his thigh for that, hard, but he’s also grinning from ear to ear, and it’s not like it hurts Louis that much anyway . And Louis supposes he was asking for it, just a little.

*

Niall became Louis’s best friend at university within about ten minutes of them meeting each other.

The two lads were put in the same flat together and Niall had knocked on Louis’s open door to introduce himself within twenty minutes of him moving in, a can of Carling in one hand and the most disgusting looking sandwich Louis had ever seen in the other, asking if Louis wanted to order to pizza and share his crate of beer.

The rest, as they say, is history.

In his third year of university, Niall, an international student from Ireland, had met Hailee, an international student from Los Angeles at a random flat party. The pair had shagged back in the flat that Louis, Harry, Zayn, Liam and Niall all shared, and within days she was a pretty permanent feature on their sofa and another person to hog the shower in the mornings and steal the last condom from the bathroom drawer. She was brilliant and beautiful, with a cracking voice and a wicked sense of humour, and she and Niall fit together like magnets.

Two weeks before graduation day, Hailee found out she was pregnant.

Louis vividly remembers the night when him and the other three had hidden in their tiny bedroom like they were recreating that scene from Friends as Niall and Hailee screamed and yelled at each other for what felt like years. They called each other every name under the sun - “stupid, reckless, incompetent fucking cunt” - but then the screaming stopped and the sobbing had started, and Louis, like the other three, doesn’t think he’s ever felt so helpless in his entire life.

The next morning, when Hailee had gone back to her own flat for a bit and everyone emerged puffy-eyed and bleary as hell, Niall told them how he’d basically ended up proposing to her, desperate to do the right thing and so, so scared of what Hailee’s parents back home would think of him.

“I love her so much,” he’d whimpered into Liam’s shoulder, squished in between all of them in a group hug. In all their years living together Louis had never seen Niall cry, and it was truly heartbreaking to see one of the strongest, chilled out people he knew crumple like this. “And yeah, I’d love to have a family with her at some point, but now? What the fucking fuck am I going to do with a baby, eh?”

“You’re going to raise it and love it and be the best dad you can be,” Harry had said. He squeezed Niall’s hand. “This is unexpected, sure, but think about it. Chances are it’ll be one of the best things that’s ever happened to you.”

“But I’m still a kid m’self,” Niall garbled. Louis patted him on the head. “I go out drinking four nights a week at least. I’ve got three quid in my bank account right now and I don’t get paid for another week. I can’t be a fucking dad.” He sniffed. “But I can’t… she has to keep it, right? I can’t ask her to do that and I… well. I don’t want her to, for fuck’s sake.”

“Just because you’re both young and a bit stupid doesn’t mean you’ll be a bad dad,” Zayn said diplomatically. “You’re both committed, like, strongly to each other and you will be to this. I think it’s normal to need a bit of time to process it. And you have time to work out the money thing and shit like that.”

“My mum had me young, and I turned out kinda okay,” Louis chipped in, and after they’d all shot him sardonic looks and had a good laugh about it, Niall seemed to perk up a bit about the whole situation and things kind of went back to normal for the day.

Kind of, because Hailee had shown up at their door just as they were all heading to bed, tears running down her cheeks, almost unable to speak she was crying that hard. Niall had let out a strangled gasp and held her right there in the doorway for close to an hour while the other four had milled around, feeling helpless and overwhelmed and unsure of how to help, or if they even could help, for fuck’s sake.

Eventually they broke apart, and Hailee had trailed through into the lounge and taken her usual seat on the sofa, pulling Niall down next to her and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Hi, boys.”

“Hi,” everyone had chorused awkwardly, and even though she was clearly still distraught she’d managed an eye roll and a weak laugh.

“I don’t need that tone, you know. And I know you all already know.” She sniffed, using the hand not clutched in Niall’s to wipe her nose. “I’m pregnant and I have to go back to America in three weeks and I’m so scared…” She’d trailed off, and Niall had wrapped her in an even tighter hug than before, eyes shiny and red as he’d kissed the top of her head again and again. “No, it’s okay Ni, I just… I’m fucking scared. I really am, but I’ve had a good fucking cry about it now and I need you guys to help me figure out what to do, yeah? I can’t… I don’t wanna tell the bitches in my flat and you guys are literally my best friends here so.” She shrugged. “Help me, please?”

It was surreal from start to finish and a little more pressure than Louis was looking for this side of finishing exams, but they did it.

Niall proposed to Hailee properly on their graduation day, getting down on one knee awkwardly in his gown with a ring that he’d found in a second hand jewellers for £100. His family were there and so were hers, and even though everyone seemed a little shell shocked and confused at how sudden it all was, all the lads were able to talk up how much sense it made given how madly in love they were and the fact they might have to go long distance, and it seemed like everyone bought it.

They got married at the end of summer, when Hailee was just starting to show and before everyone else had to start real jobs in new places and they wouldn’t get to see each other every day. They had the reception at the local TGI Friday’s, Niall got drunker than Louis has ever seen him and then proceeded to cry into the tablecloth, and for the first time in his life Louis felt okay with the idea of adulthood. Despite the unusual circumstances it was clear that the pair were completely besotted with one another and them getting married was likely inevitable anyway, and part of Louis started thinking about his own future, his own wedding.

(And then Harry ruined it by smashing a cake into his face and he’d started plotting murder, not marriage.)

Hailee’s pregnancy had been pretty smooth up until about two months before her due date, when extreme fatigue started to set in and her blood sugar levels started to drop dangerously low. She took early maternity leave and took the time to rest for a bit and for a couple of weeks things looked like they were getting better, that that had just been a fluke.

It wasn’t a fluke.

Niall came home from work one evening to find Hailee slumped on the sofa, blood everywhere, unmoving. He’d dialled 999 and then called Harry and Louis in hysterics, begging them to meet him at the hospital because he couldn’t do this alone. His family were a sea away and so were Hailee’s, so they really were the closest thing Niall had to family around him. Both of them left work and sped straight to the hospital, where they found a sobbing Niall sat alone in the corner of the waiting room.

“She’s in surgery,” he wept into Louis’s shoulder. Louis was seconds away from crying himself. “I can’t see her. They don’t know if either of them…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and really he didn’t need to.

But they both did. A few hours later a doctor called Niall into the room and ten minutes later he emerged with a tiny, tiny baby swaddled in a huge pink blanket. Her skin was pale, tinged almost blue, and she had a shock of dark hair. She was also one of the most beautiful things Louis had ever seen.

“She’s okay,” he breathed, leaning down a little to show them her tiny face, bright red and contorted in sleep. “She’s okay and Hailee’s gonna be okay too, they think.”

Louis and Harry had both burst into tears at the same time, relief washing over like a tidal wave.

Unfortunately, that relief too was short-lived. Little Lucy was taken back to the neonatal unit and placed in an incubator where she stayed until she was seven months old. Her early birth had taken a heavy toll on both mother and baby and for the first few months there were sleepless nights, angry outbursts, floods of tears and unbearably long periods of not knowing anything.

But little Lucy Horan was a fighter and despite a multitude of health problems she survived.

It took them a few weeks to give them a cohesive diagnosis, but what they were eventually told is this: Lucy was born with a structural defeat to her heart, which hadn’t been picked up when Hailee had had her scans. As such, Hailee’s body was working harder than normal to keep the baby going, which explained the fatigue during her pregnancy but also meant that the birth had been quite traumatic. The whole thing was confusing and horrible and Louis spent a good few weeks not really understanding what the problem was, but he knew it was serious. It was more serious than any of them, Niall and Hailee especially, were ready for.

Lucy has to take medication every single day, multiple times a day, to keep her blood pressure normal and her heart rate in check. She’s in and out of hospital appointments on a weekly basis to make sure everything is going as smoothly as it can. There’s talk of her having surgery a little later on in life to repair the defect, but right now they’ve deemed her little body too weak for any kind of operation so they just keep her monitored for now.

Having said that, the bulk of her childhood was fairly normal. Aside from her taking her daily medication she seemed to be doing fine, living a normal enough life that Hailee could go back to working part time and Niall could work full time. They moved closer to Harry and Louis and Zayn and Liam so they had close friends who were able to help here and there, but for the most part they seemed to be handling things well on their own.

Louis isn’t really sure what changed, but over the past year things suddenly have. Suddenly she’s having hospitals three times a week instead of just the once. Suddenly they’re seeing less and less of their friends because they can’t leave her or they don’t want to leave her because she’s been so unwell. She gets tired quicker and frustrated about it too, because that child has always loved being out and about and she’s just a little too young to understand why it’s such a struggle for her at the moment. She can’t go over to her friend’s houses after school and she can’t play sports and she has to make sure she takes a tablet with her lunch at school, and from what Niall’s told him over the phone the other kids around her are starting to pick up on that and some of them haven’t been the nicest. It’s enough to break Louis’s heart all over again.

Any excuse for Lucy to come round they’ll take, so when Niall rings up and asks if they can pop round for dinner because Lucy’s appointment ran over and they’re close by and it’s been a while since they’ve caught up. Harry being Harry can’t just settle for ordering in pizza though - Louis rolls into the kitchen to find him shoving a joint into the slow cooker and whacking it onto full heat.

“Surely putting something in the slow cooker at this time of night is counter-productive.”

Harry just looks at him.

“What?”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Harry hisses. “I am not ordering takeaway for our friends when they come here to eat. Especially not for Lucy. I refuse to be behind anything that feeds that girl rubbish.”

The doorbell rings then, and even from a hallway away Louis can hear Lucy singing a Dua Lipa song, so out of tune that it’s hilarious.

Louis loves her so much he can barely stand it sometimes.

“Hello, darling,” Louis says with the widest grin, opening his arms wide for Niall to plop Lucy into them. He peppers her with kisses, laughing as she giggles and squeals and shoves at him playfully. “Hey, don’t pretend you don’t love your Uncle Louis, give me a kiss.”

“Uncle Louis, stop,” she giggles from under his armpit. She kisses his shoulder and then wriggles to sit more comfortably in his lap. “I think I’m ticklish.”

Louis pretends to mull it over. “Hmmm. I think so too.” He lightly digs his knuckles into her sides. “Shall we try that again to find out?”

“No!” she cackles, wiggling even harder to try and free herself from his grasp, jumping down from his lap and running to hide behind her father’s leg. “Daddy, tell Uncle Lou to not tickle me.”

Niall scoops her up. “Uncle Lou, don’t tickle Lucy here please, that’s my job.” Lucy shrieks and fights herself out of his arms, so Niall sets her down and lets her scuttle off back into the hallway. “She’s getting bloody big, ain’t she?”

“You’re telling me,” Louis says, flicking up the breaks on his chair so he can roll forward. “And she’s getting prettier by the day and all. You sure she’s yours?”

“Ha ha,” Niall says dryly, then flops down onto the sofa. “Very funny.”

“And how’s she doing, more importantly?” Louis asks, rolling a bit closer. “She been okay since the other week?”

A couple of weeks ago, little Lucy had collapsed in her classroom after a PE lesson, skin turning blue and her little hands and feet swelling as her body struggled to adjust itself after all that running around. Hailee had called Harry frantically because Niall had the car and she was stuck at work, so all three of them had ended up rushing to the local hospital to see her. They’d been told that she’d developed a respiratory tract infection, which is not an uncommon occurrence in kids with a congenital heart disease, and her taking part in PE had pushed her little body over the edge of what it was able to cope with at that time. Lucy was kept in hospital overnight for observation, advised not to take part in PE for the rest of the term, and given another set of antibiotics to take.

It breaks Louis’s heart to see Lucy struggle in so many aspects of her little life. She’s in and out of these hospital appointments and therapy sessions on a weekly basis, and her parents are forced to spend so much time and energy on making sure she’s safe. He knows how much of a toll her condition takes on Niall and Hailee as well, how many tears have been shed and how many nights they’ve spent awake worrying and the strain it’s put on their relationship with one another, but they’re honestly the strongest people Louis knows. He can’t imagine going through what they’ve been through and he’s in a wheelchair, for crying out loud.

“She’s okay, I think,” Niall says quietly. He rings his hands together. “Hailee’s been crying a lot, bless her. She’s found this last incident quite hard, but I think Lucy’s kinda forgotten about it already, to be fair. She seemed quite excited about not having to do PE again too.”

Louis snorts. “Like father, like daughter.”

“Well, true,” Niall says. “But she’s only a kid, you know? Kids shouldn’t feel like they can’t run around and be kids.” He groans. “I just want her to be a kid so bad.”

“She is a kid, Ni. She’s a great kid.”

Niall sighs. “I know, I know.” He straightens up. “She’s my kid, man, of course she’s a great kid.” He shrugs again. “I hate how much this is affecting Hails though. Last time really got to her and I get it, I do, but she’s barely letting the kid out her sight now. I dunno, Lou, I don’t know what to do.”

The cry of “Uncle Louis, Uncle Louis!” cuts off Louis’s reply, and he rubs his knuckles over Niall’s knee briefly before turning to Lucy as she comes charging back through the door, a toy in each hand.

“Whatcha got there, nugget?”

On her tail are Harry and Hailee, a loose arm thrown around her shoulders as she rests her head on his arm. Clearly they’ve been having a similar conversation to the one he’s just been having with Niall. Louis shoots her a brief smile before turning back to Lucy.

“Are those pirates?”

“Yeah!” she shrieks delightedly, waving the plastic figurine around dangerously close to Louis’s eyeballs. He goes cross-eyed and she laughs even louder. “Look, Uncle Lou, this one is my favourite one.”

“Lucy, no toys near faces,” Hailee warns, but instead of sounding fond in her sternness as she usually would, she just sounds exhausted. “We’ve talked about this, honey.”

“Sorry,” Lucy says, not sounding sorry at all. She’s just so like her father sometimes it’s uncanny. “Do you wanna play?”

“Um… oh, sweetheart, you know my hands don’t work like normal hands,” Louis says ever so gently, heart sinking a bit. He feels everyone else in the room go a bit tense and he hates that. “I’d love to play but my hands won’t let me.”

“That’s okay,” Lucy says like it’s not a big deal, with her pure, unadulterated innocence that makes him love her even more. “I can be the pirates and you can do the voices.” Now silly voices is something he can do. “Daddy, did you bring the ship in?”

“Yeah, darling,” Niall says softly, grinning between Louis and his little girl. “It’s in Mummy’s big bag in the hallway. You can get it if you like.”

“Be right back, Uncle Lou.” She scampers off, socked feet skidding a little on the hardwood floor, and Louis grins after her, heart warm.

“She looks more and more like you every day,” Harry comments, giving Hailee’s shoulders another squeeze.

“Yeah, and thank god it’s Hailee and not Niall,” Louis remarks, easily dodging the punch Niall throws his way. “And what kind of example is that for your baby girl, Horan?”

Lucy comes charging back in not seconds later, waving a rather large plastic pirate ship. Louis and her play for all of five minutes before she gets annoyed with how he does the voices and asks her dad for her Nintendo instead. She settles onto the sofa with it, telly on Cartoon Network in the background, as the four adults retreat to the kitchen for wine and a chat.

“Dinner will be in about 45 minutes,” Harry says, trotting over to the slow cooker and using a wooden spoon to poke at the contents. “Anyone for a snack in the meantime?”

“Nah,” Niall says as he pours himself a hearty glass of wine. Hailee must be driving then, even though she looks like she could use a stiff drink. Louis rolls himself into his usual space and nudges his glass towards Niall for him to pour him one. “Wanna save myself for your pulled pork.”

“I’ll have something small if you wouldn’t mind,” Hailee says. It’s the first time Louis’s properly heard her speak since she arrived and fucking hell, she does sound like she needs something, whether that be a stiff drink, good food, anything to take her mind off all the shit going on. “Just a bag of chips or whatever will do.”

Niall slings an arm around the back of her chair and Louis doesn’t miss the way his fingers dance over her elbow. She shuffles her chair and rests her head on his shoulder. He kisses her hair.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, glancing between Harry and Louis. “It’s been the longest fucking week of my life, it feels like.”

“I agree,” Niall groans. “I feel like I haven’t slept since last year.”

“What even is sleep?” Hailee agrees as she laces her fingers with Niall’s, resting their clasped hands on the table. “I swear to god, that child has no energy throughout the day and I feel awful for her, and then she’s wide awake at 1am buzzing with it and I just can’t understand it.”

“Has she been okay at school?” Harry asks, dropping a straw into Louis’s wine glass.

They both shrug. “She still seems happy enough,” Hailee says. “They’re learning about dinosaurs at the moment which has quickly become her favourite thing.” She takes a long pull of her wine. “But it seems to burn her out. Like she’ll be fine all day, I’ll pick her up and she’ll fall asleep in the car on the way home and then suddenly it’s the middle of the night and she’s raring to go again.”

“It’s like we’ve still got a baby,” Niall says with a sigh. “You should be asleep when they’re asleep and all that.”

“You poor things,” Harry says sympathetically. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Feed us,” Hailee says, cracking a small smile. “Keep my wine glass topped up. That kind of thing helps.” Niall kisses the top of her head. “Nah, alright, let’s talk about other things,” she says, waving her hand. “How’s your week been, darlings? How’s work?”

Conversation flows easily between them as it always has, and pretty soon Harry’s serving them up steaming bowls of food, with some fresh bread in the centre of the table. Lucy gets her own spot at the table and joins in the chatter as best a kid her age can and it’s a lovely evening all round, despite how obviously drained both Hailee and Niall are.

Louis wishes he could do something.

And so does Harry, clearly, because he jumps in and finally asks something that they’ve been talking about together for a few months now but haven’t actually spoken to Niall nor Hailee about.

“Hey,” he says towards the end of the evening, when bowls have been cleared away and replaced with ice cream cones. He covers Louis’s hand where it’s sitting on the table and beams wide and bright over to Lucy, who’s now made her way into her father’s lap and is curled up against his chest, getting ice cream on his shirt. “Hey Lucy Lou, would you fancy a sleepover party with your two favourite uncles some time soon?”

Her little mouth drops open. So does Niall’s, but for a different reason. “Haz…”

“No, seriously,” Harry continues, glancing at Louis briefly. Louis nods. “If you ever want a sleepover party here with me and Lou then you’re more than welcome.”

“Harry, I…”

“Yayyy!” Lucy shrieks before Niall can get any more words in. Louis waggles his eyebrows in his direction triumphantly, because if there’s one thing in life Niall is terrible at, it’s denying his baby girl anything. “Daddy, Mummy, can we have one tonight?”

Both Niall and Hailee’s eyes go wide and they open their mouths at the same time, but Harry beats them to it.

“Not tonight, darling,” he says, shaking his head. “Your Uncle Louis and I are busy tomorrow so I won’t be able to make you breakfast and we don’t want to have a sleepover without breakfast, do we?”

She pouts. “Okay,” she grumbles, settling a little in her dad’s lap. “But when though?”

“Your Mummy and I will sort it,” Niall tells her quickly, kissing the top of her head. “Come on, lovely, finish your ice cream.”

“But when, Daddy?”

Niall sighs. “I… I don’t know yet, baby. Soon though, I promise it’ll be soon”

Louis and Harry don’t even bother trying to be subtle when they fist bump, and when Niall goes to not-so-subtly flip them off over his daughter’s head Hailee smacks him, which makes them both giggle and snicker louder than they should.

Lucy ends up falling asleep not long after, so Niall goes and lays her on the sofa. The second her daughter’s out the room Hailee turns to the pair with a look of pure fire.

“What the fuck, you two?” she hisses. She runs a hand through her hair. “What have you done that for?”

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. “To give you two some free time, darling.” He shrugs. “It’ll do you two some good.”

“But she’s such a handful in the evenings, I just told you,” Hailee says, slumping in her seat. She reaches for her wine again but doesn’t drink it. “It isn’t fair to dump that on you, especially because… well. No offence, Lou, but you can’t exactly chase her, can you?”

Louis snorts loudly. “Yeah, maybe not, but she’ll listen to us, I reckon. It’s because you’re her parents, innit? She knows how far she can push you.”

Niall comes back into the room then, sliding into his chair and winding his arm around his wife again. “What the fuck, you two?”

“Listen,” Harry says gently, reaching across the table to squeeze Hailee’s hand where it’s resting over her wine glass. “Lou and I have discussed this already. We want to do this for you. No, we want to,” he says sharply, pointing at Niall when he goes to open his mouth. “I’m not going to argue here.”

“Haz and I are both aware that he’d be doing the bulk of the work,” Louis tacks on, because he knows that was the point Hailee was trying to make in a much more tactful way. “I made that point too.”

“And honestly you deserve the time off,” Harry finishes. “We’re not saying it’ll become a once a week thing but like. We can trial it once and if she decides she hates it and wants me to drive her home then I will. If she decides she loves it we can talk about doing it more often, yeah?”

Niall looks at Hailee and Hailee looks at Niall.

“ Fuck, ” Hailee sighs out, resting her forehead on Niall’s shoulder. “Does it make me a bad mother if I agree that this does sound fucking appealing?”

Niall squeezes the back of her neck. “Only if I’m a bad father too.”

“Listen, the ball is one hundred percent in your court,” Louis says. “We only brought it up in front of Lucy because we knew there would be literally no chance of her letting you forget it. Just… think about it, will you?”

Hailee and Niall sigh in unison, which makes them all laugh.

“Okay,” Hailee eventually mumbles, her Californian drawl stretching the word out. “We’ll think about it.”

And it ends up coming around quicker than Louis anticipated, because Niall rings him the following week and sheepishly asks if they’d want to take Lucy on the Thursday night.

“For our, um, anniversary,” he mumbles, and Louis frowns.

“But you got married in August.”

“Not that anniversary,” Niall mutters, and oh.

“You fucking animal,” Louis says with a big fat smirk on his face. “Of course we’ll take her.”

“Thanks,” Niall says gruffly. Louis can tell he’s gone bright red in the face, bless him. “Don’t tell Hailee yet though, if she asks. I wanna try and, like, make the night a bit of a surprise.”

“Obviously,” Louis tuts. “Nah, my lips are sealed. I’ll let Harry know and we’ll start planning.”

They (and they means Harry) turn the living room into a den of sorts, with a mattress in the middle surrounded by tons of pillows and blankets and stuffed toys Louis didn’t even know they had (they didn’t have them) (Harry went out and bought them specifically). Harry also gets all the trappings for homemade pizza, making dough from scratch that morning before coming back from Asda with bags and bags of cheese, ham, mushrooms and sweetcorn, as well as plenty of snacks for a movie night.

“Jesus, Harry, she’s only one tiny child,” Louis tells him sternly as Harry frantically starts unpacking all the shit. “She won’t care if you’re unpacking shopping when she’s here.” He warily eyes the three giant bags of crisps Harry’s now unloading onto the countertop. “And also, how much stuff do you think she’s going to eat?”

“I like to be prepared,” Harry sniffs. “Fuck’s sake. I still have all this shit to chop and put in the princess bowls and the…”

“Princess bowls?” Louis asks, covering his mouth with his hand to cover a laugh. “Oh, babe. You’re actually so adorable.”

“Not now, Louis,” Harry snaps, waving him off. “I have too much shit to do for you to do… that thing you do.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Woah, alright. What thing is that please?”

“That thing where you try and butter me up and then I don’t actually get that much done,” Harry says, running a hand through his now-limp hair. “I just want it to be perfect, okay?”

“Harry, I know,” Louis tuts. “There’s no need to be a prick, babe. Just because I can’t, like, physically help doesn’t mean you have to dismiss me entirely though.”

Harry sighs. “I’m not,” he says forlornly, then slams both his hands onto the counter. “I’m just stressing, like, a little bit. I dunno why.”

“Yeah, I dunno why either,” Louis tells him, rolling round the kitchen so he’s trapping Harry against the cupboard, arms either side of his knees. “It’s only Lucy, darling. And it’s only Niall and Hailee. They know us, they trust us, please get out of your head.”

Harry sighs and sags against the counter. “Urgh, I know, I know. I just want it to be a success, you know? I want this to be something we feel we can offer out on the regular, something both Niall and Hailee feel okay with saying yes to.”

“They do,” Louis assures, stroking a fist up Harry’s thigh. “I know you, Haz, and you’re gonna make it a success whether anyone else likes it or not.”

It is a success, of course, and nowhere near as much hassle as Niall or Hailee had painted it out to be. They both show up to drop her off in Hailee’s beat up little Mini wearing clothes Louis hasn’t seen either of them wear in years - Niall’s wearing a blazer , for fuck’s sake, and Hailee’s wearing a sleek black jumpsuit with red heels. She looks beautiful and they walk towards the door with their hands clasped tight, and Louis has to smile. He knows how big of a deal this is for them and he’s proud and pleased they’re letting him and Harry do this.

Lucy runs straight towards them and clambers right into Louis’s lap, throwing her arms around his neck. “Uncle Louis!”

“Hey, darling,” he coos, wrapping his arms around her and settling her so she’s seated. “How’s my bestest friend in the whole world?”

“I’m so excited!” she screeches, clapping her hands together. “I have been looking forward to this my whole entire life.”

“Really? ‘Cos so have I!” Louis beams. “And so has Uncle Harry.”

“Where’s my cuddle?” Harry says, and he pretends to look upset. “I can’t believe I didn’t get a cuddle on sleepover day!”

Lucy scrabbles to get down off of Louis’s lap and takes a running jump towards Harry, who catches her like she weighs nothing and plonks her so she’s sat on his shoulders. “Uncle Harry,” she shrieks, kicking her little feet out in delight. “This isn’t a hug!”

“Lucy, no kicking,” Niall warns, pointing a finger at her. She points back and sticks out her tongue. “Oi, madam. I’ll take you straight home again. I will.”

“Okay, sorry, Daddy,” she rushes out, then cuddles her arms around Harry’s neck. “Sorry, Uncle Harry.”

“That’s okay, chicken,” Harry says. “Why don’t we go inside, yeah? Guess what we’re having for dinner?”

She gasps. “What?”

“Pizzaaa,” Harry yells, then ducks them under the front door and runs inside. They can still hear them shouting once they reach the kitchen, and Louis snorts.

“I just don’t know who’s more excited.”

“It’s me,” Niall says, winding an arm around Hailee’s waist, and she grins and presses a kiss onto his cheek. “And maybe her.”

“Definitely me as well,” Hailee says, shrugging. “I feel so guilty but, like, fuck , I’m so excited for a good fuck.”

Niall’s eyes go wide and his cheeks bright red, and Louis roars with laughter. He forgets sometimes just how brash Hailee can be without her kid around.

“Same,” he hears Niall whisper, and the pair share a quick kiss. Louis groans.

“Get outta here, you horny teenagers.”

“Her bedtime is half 7, 8 at an absolute stretch,” Hailee tells him. “Please don’t give her too many sweets either. Her meds are in the left pocket of the bag, she needs one with her food and one first thing in the morning. Anything else, call me. But thank you so much Lou, we love you!”

“Nice one, mate!” Niall calls, already back in the car. “See ya tomorrow!”

Louis laughs again as he waves them off, then spins on his wheels and rolls back towards the kitchen where Harry and Lucy are decorating a giant pizza base to look like a smiley face.

She definitely has a lot more energy than Harry or Louis is used to, but that’s just because she’s so excited to be here. She runs around with her Bratz dolls and yells excitedly when Harry suggests pulling up the movie on Netflix, but only once she’s promised to put on her pyjamas and eat her dinner nicely.

Which she does, chomping on her pizza that Harry sets on a tray for her on the sofa. She eats it and ignores the film, chatting animatedly away to her uncles about her friends from nursery. Once she’s finished her pizza Harry fetches her some strawberries and ice cream, then once she finishes those he convinces her to get into bed and cuddle up to him and the stuffed penguin he bought for her to watch the rest of the film.

She promptly falls asleep, and Harry carefully peels himself out from underneath her, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead before he stands.

Louis watches all this from the sofa, a funny feeling stirring in his chest. This feels… awfully domestic and, well, normal, and he doesn’t really know what to make of it.

“Hey,” Harry murmurs, flopping down on the sofa, resting his head on Louis’s shoulder, curling an arm around his waist.

“You’re gonna make a fucking great dad one day.” Louis can’t help but blurt out at him. “A really fucking great one.”

“Don’t swear,” Harry admonishes, but there’s no fire behind it. He squeezes Louis tighter, pulling him even closer to him, and they carry on watching Bratz: The Movie together in a warm, comfortable silence long after Lucy has fallen asleep.

There are tears when Hailee comes to collect Lucy the following morning because she doesn’t want to leave. Hailee takes it her stride, however, scooping her daughter up and promising her that she can do this again soon.

“Right, Uncle Harry? Uncle Louis?” she asks carefully, like she’s worried they’re going to say no. Like they ever could say no to either of them, honestly.

“Of course,” Harry says brightly, leaning forward to kiss Lucy on the cheek. “You’re welcome anytime, darling. Just make sure you ask your Mummy and Daddy first.”

“But I’m gonna miss you,” Lucy whines petulantly, then starts crying even harder. “I want to stay, Mummy!”

Hailee sighs, but she seems a lot less exasperated than usual, more just fond. Clearly the night away with Niall did her some good, and even though Louis can’t rib her about it like he wants to in front of Lucy, he shoots her a knowing smile.

(While trying not to wince at any of Lucy’s loud, piercing sobs.)

“Come on, baby,” Hailee says gently, hoisting her up higher. “Your Daddy’s home today and he’s taking you swimming.”

She stops crying almost straight away. “Yeah?” she hiccups, rubbing at her eye with a fist. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Hailee parrots, then rolls her eyes over her daughter’s head. “That was easy enough, wasn’t it?” She turns back to Harry and Louis. “How was she, everything okay?”

“She was brilliant,” Harry says, ruffling her hair. “She’s welcome back anytime.”

“The second weekend of August, maybe?” Louis hints, which earns him a glare. “How does that sound?”

“Fuck off,” she mouths, then grins sweetly when Lucy tugs on her hair to get her attention. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Want to go swimming,” Lucy mumbles. “Can we go now?”

“You wanted to move in a minute ago,” Hailee says with a sigh, but she sets Lucy down and takes her hand anyway. “Say thank you, Lucy.”

“Thank youuu,” Lucy screeches, drawing out the word, then runs over and wraps herself around Harry’s leg. “Can we come back next week?”

“Okay, let’s get going,” Hailee says loudly. “Say byeee!”

“Byeee!”

Louis and Harry both stay waving from the front door as Hailee loads Lucy into her booster seat before she drives them away. They wave and wave like they won’t see them for ages (even though they’re seeing them on Sunday) and when they’re off the driveway and out of sight they both sigh in unison before Harry bends down and gives Louis a quick peck on the lips.

“That was fun.”

“It was,” Louis admits, wheeling backwards so Harry can shut the front door. He follows Harry into the living room, which is still a mess of blankets and cuddly toys. “We’re gonna do this again, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah, course we are.”

“Good, because that was so much fun,” Louis says with a grin. “And easy, don’t you think? I think we’ll make excellent parents.”

“Alright, slow down, eager beaver,” Harry says, chuckling nervously. He turns his back on Louis as he starts folding the blankets.  “One thing at a time, yeah?”

“I’m teasing,” Louis says, but he’s also kind of not. Something about how good Harry was with Lucy has really stirred something in him he didn’t know he had, or maybe it was something he’s always had but hasn’t ever thought about. That ultimately doesn’t matter - what matters is he’s mildly turned on and Harry’s on the other side of the room, and that simply won’t do. “Although watching you be so good with Lucy has made me feel a certain type of way.” He grins coyly when Harry spins around, brows raised. “Come here, will you?”

Harry moves over to him, still looking bemused. “A certain type of way, eh?”

“Yeah,” Louis says breathily, pulling Harry closer once he’s in reach. “Daddy.”

Harry bursts out laughing. “Really? That turns you on? After all this time?” he says, but he tangles his fingers into Louis’s hair regardless, tilting his head up. “Is it a daddy thing or a Daddy thing?”

“Neither,” Louis hums, licking his lips. “ You turn me on. Wanna go make out?”

The pile of blankets may or may not get defiled that afternoon, and the next time Lucy sleeps her unicorn duvet cover has mysteriously been replaced by a My Little Pony one.

It’s never mentioned again.

*

“Baby?”

Louis nudges his glasses further up his nose before he turns his chair around, smiling when he sees Harry trudging through the door in his gym clothes, a Starbucks in each hand. “Hi, darling.”

“Hello,” Harry says brightly, setting the cups down on Louis’s desk before leaning down to give Louis a quick kiss. “I bought you the fancy tea.”

Louis grins even wider. “Aw, thanks, darling,” he says, rolling forward so he can grab a straw from one of his desk drawers. He doesn’t always need a straw these days, but it’s just easier with hot drinks so he doesn’t run the risk of accidentally knocking it down himself. “How was your run?”

“Exhausting,” Harry says. He’s dripping with sweat - Louis can see just how damp his hair is, and he’s wearing grey, which isn’t the most forgiving workout colour - but he sits himself down in Louis’s armchair anyway, reaching for his own drink (iced black coffee). “I pushed a little harder today because we had that takeaway last night, and I really want to get my mile to seven minutes.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “And how do you suggest I go about burning off that takeaway, hmmm?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can arrange something,” Harry says coyly, waggling his eyebrows, and Louis laughs and shakes his head. “Not that you need to, of course. You’re perfect just as you are.”

Louis pretends to vomit into his Starbucks cup, turning back to his desk and clicking back onto his browser. “I’m not even going to entertain that with an answer, you twat.”

Harry laughs again, and they end up sitting for a while in comfortable silence while Louis cracks back on with work. Harry’s only part-time at his job these days so he’s home a lot more in case Louis needs anything. Louis likes the fact that he’s around a lot more now he’s forced to work from home too, partly because he thinks any time with Harry is time well spent, but also because they get to enjoy each other’s company like this; no pressures, no forced conversation, just being around each other.

And then his stomach rumbles, snapping him out of his work daze for a bit. Harry kisses him on the forehead before he disappears into the kitchen for a bit, then comes back with two big bowls of Louis’s favourite pasta. Louis wheels back and let’s Harry shift some stuff around so they can use his desk as a makeshift dining table and they eat away, chatting lightly about their plans to see Anne and Gemma next week.

After lunch, Louis gets back into working and Harry brings his laptop into Louis’s study, and he takes up his place on the armchair again, where they both work until Louis honestly can’t be arsed anymore. He saves his document, slams the lid of his laptop shut, and spins around, wheeling himself over to Harry at speed. “Let’s go do something now, yeah?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “What do you wanna do?”

“Anything,” Louis says, eyes glinting. “I wanna take you out somewhere nice, let’s go somewhere nice.”

“Like on a date?”

“Like on a date,” Louis confirms, knocking Harry’s boney knees with his fists. It’s only then he twigs that Harry’s still in his running gear from this morning, and hasn’t even showered yet. That’s the sign of a couple who are too comfortable around one another, he’s sure. “But only if you go and shower first, you disgusting layabout.”

Harry laughs, leaning forward to peck Louis’s lips once, twice, three times. “Alright, I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He stands up. “Come with me and we’ll decide where we wanna go?”

Harry obligingly showers as Louis books them a table for two for one of their favourite local restaurants on his iPad, then with a little help and a fresh spritz of deodorant, he changes into a button down shirt instead of his hoodie, then Harry helps him swap his bed socks for Converse. It’s not exactly a Michelin Star restaurant, where they’re going, but since his accident Louis’s found himself becoming just a little bit vainer, keen to be the Hot Guy in the Wheelchair if he has to be the Guy in the Wheelchair at all.

That’s always been an issue lurking in the back of his mind though, even before his injury. Harry’s fucking gorgeous, and now he’s making more of an effort with his fitness (which is partly for himself and partly so he’s strong enough to lift and carry Louis when he needs to) he’s more gorgeous than he’s ever been. And Louis loves it, he really does. He loves the way Harry can lazily carry him from room to room if he wants to these days, he loves looking at the tanned slope of his back and the thick muscles in his arms when they’re showering or doing physio together, and he certainly loves curling up against Harry’s warm chest before he goes to sleep...

But he doesn’t miss the way that people almost always address Harry before they address him, the way that people’s faces often fall for the smallest of seconds when they realise that Harry is, in fact, romantically involved with the lad in the wheelchair rather than just doing him a service by pushing him around. And it would hurt a lot more, Louis thinks, but he’s so incredibly lucky because he is so, so confident in his relationship, but sometimes, just sometimes, he misses getting attention from others, to be reminded he’s actually a catch himself.

And Harry’s amazing, he really is, because sometimes Louis gets all in his head about things like this, particularly when they’re going out, and he’s so good at pulling Louis out of it. “Hey,” he murmurs to him, standing in front of his chair and resting his hands on Louis’s cheeks, grinning down at him brilliantly. “You look hot as fuck, baby. I’d totally do you.”

And Louis has to laugh, honestly, because sometimes he get so caught up in his own head but Harry always knows exactly what to say to bring him back to Earth. “So do you,” he titters, resting his own hands on top of Harry’s and, instead of squeezing them like he used to, he scratches his nails over them lightly, which has become his kind of alternative to that. “You look very suave, darling. It’s amazing what a bit of soap and water can do.”

Harry pretends to frown, face pulled into such a contorted scowl that Louis has to tug him down and kiss him, he just has to. After a minute of snogging he gently pulls back, then kisses Harry’s nose, each cheek, and then his chin.

“I love you,” he says, very seriously.

“I love you too,” Harry replies with a grin, only wincing a little when he stands back upright and his back makes an almighty clicking sound. “ Christ.”

Now it’s Louis’s turn to frown. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want either.” He walks behind Louis to grab the handlebars of his chair, kissing the crown of his head before he starts to push. “Don’t stress.”

“I do stress though,” Louis says, picking up his legs and adjusting them a little. “Who would stink out my room with their day old gym sweat if you were to break your back too?”

Harry snorts dryly. “It’ll still be me, babe. It’ll still be me.”

It’s not as easy to talk when Harry’s pushing him because they can’t always hear what the other is saying, but when they get to the car and Harry scoops Louis out of his chair bridal style and straps him into the passenger seat, then they’re on level ground again and conversation can resume. “So where did you book for us to go?”

“The nice mediterranean restaurant by the river,” Louis calls, twisting his head so Harry can hear him as he folds up his chair and slides it into the boot. “Fancied a steak and some of those really good dough ball thingies.”

“Such a good shout,” Harry says, voice a little muffled, and then he slides into the driver’s seat and fumbles with the keys. “Do you wanna do something after that too? Maybe go and see a film or something?”

“Yeah, we totally could,” Louis hums. “We can check what’s on at the cinema and times and stuff when we get there.”

It’s only a ten minute or so drive into the city centre and it passes quickly, the pair chatting lazily about how well Lottie’s new brand is going, then before they know it they’re pulling into the car park. Harry finds one of the larger blue badge spaces and parks up, then ruffles a squawking Louis’s hair before he gets out the car and hoicks his wheelchair out the back.

“Ready?”

“Yep,” Louis answers, voice only a little strained as his whole body is hoisted up and out the car. Harry sets him carefully into his chair, crouching down so Louis can use his shoulders as some leverage so he can get himself comfortable. Then he’s strapped in, his feet are adjusted comfortably onto his foot plate, and with a brief nod of affirmation the pair set off towards the restaurant.

They’re greeted by a friendly waitress with a bright smile, who happily maneuvers chairs and tables out of their way so they can get to their own, which is nice and secluded towards the back, tucked in a corner and overlooking the water feature outside. She easily moves the chair closest to them out the way so Louis can slide in, then Harry takes his seat opposite, smiling privately as Louis manages to flick the menu open on the first go.

“Can I get you both some drinks?” the waitress asks. Her name tag reads Gina. “And some bread for the table?”

“That would be great, thank you,” Louis says with a nod. “And I’ll have a gin & tonic please. Haz?”

“A half lager shandy please.”

Gina nods and doesn’t bother to write it down. She scuttles off and Louis grins over at Harry one more time before he looks down at his menu, even though they both know he’s going to have the same thing he always has when they’re out.

“Do you fancy some garlic bread with the cheese and tomato coulis?” Harry asks, reaching for Louis’s hand across the table. “And let me guess? Medium rare, no peas, extra mushroom?”

Louis snorts. “Yes, alright, I’m a creature of habit. Sue me.”

“The only thing I’m gonna be suing you for is looking too damn good in that shirt,” Harry tells him, his face the picture of sincerity, which only serves to make Louis groan louder.

“What a fucking line, Styles.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Is it working? Do I get to take you home tonight?”

“I’ll think about it,” Louis murmurs, scratching at Harry’s hand briefly as Gina comes back over with their drinks. “Have you decided what you’re having, love?”

Harry nods and reels off both their orders. Louis goes to take a sip of his drink and realises there’s no straw, and he shuffles uncomfortably in his chair because he hates having to ask for one.

“Oh, and can we have a straw for our drinks please?” Harry tacks on the end, smiling brightly as he folds both of their menus closed and hands them back to Gina. “Thank you so much.”

Louis offers her a tight smile, one that he doesn’t mean to be so tight, but he hates how much he still lets this stuff get to him even though he knows they mean no harm or foul. And it’s no big deal, he knows that, but it can be in his head and he hates it.

“Baby,” Harry mutters lowly, squeezing his hand back. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Louis says petulantly.

“It’s only a straw,” Harry reminds him, thumb stroking over his knuckles. Louis sighs and nods. “Okay? Please smile for me.”

The smile Louis pastes on is wide and fake, and it has them both dissolving into a fit of giggles as Gina comes back over with their straws. “Here we are, sorry about that,” she apologises, which Louis quickly shrugs off. “Do you want your garlic bread cutting up in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, that would be great, thank you,” Louis croaks. Harry beams at him. “And, um, could you cut up my steak as well, would that be okay?”

“Absolutely,” Gina says with another nod. “Are you both okay for drinks?”

They both murmur a quick affirmation and she disappears off again, their empty wine glasses in hand. Louis turns back to Harry and offers a real, soft smile. “Shut up.”

Harry holds up his free hand in defence. “I didn’t say a word.”

Louis sticks out his tongue. “Good boy. I’m glad you know better now.”

Their meal is delicious and decadent and after a huge sticky chocolate brownie that Harry sneers at, Louis decides they’re going to start going out for dinner like this at least once a week.

“Once a week, eh?” Harry says, licking at the spoon he’s been using to shovel strawberries and ice cream into his gob. “You want to spend time with me that often?”

“Hard to believe, I know,” Louis says dryly. “But yes, I do.” He grins dopily. “I want to spend time with you like this, where you’re my boyfriend rather than my carer and where we can just talk about shit and eat good food and be a normal couple for a bit.” He shrugs. “That alright with you, sir?”

“That sounds more than alright to me.” Harry’s beaming, and he puts down the spoon to squeeze Louis’s hand tightly. “Oooh, and we can start going to nicer places and call it my job.”

Louis snorts and then pretends to pout. “You not gonna treat your man like I deserve? You’re really gonna take me to nice places and then claim our meals on company expenses?”

“I treat you plenty.” Harry’s intense scowl looks so ridiculous that Louis can’t work out if it’s real or not. “You’re so rude to me.”

Louis rolls his eyes again. “And I treat you plenty, hence me suggesting this weekly thing. I wasn’t going to make you pay for it, babe. I make more than enough money to take you to nice places on the regular.”

To reiterate his point, he pays for the meal and leaves a generous tip while Harry’s in the loo, which ends up with him getting snogged as Harry helps him back into the car.

“For the record, I love it when you treat me.”

“Mmmm, gotta give you at least one reason to keep me around,” Louis hums, giving him another quick peck on the lips. “Do you wanna go and see that film?”

Harry shrugs. “Do you want to go and see that film?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not really, no.” Harry nods and strolls around to the driver’s side, getting back in the car. “I wanna go home and cuddle up with Bake Off instead, is that alright?”

“More than alright.” Harry’s grinning as he starts up the car, flicking his hair behind his shoulders. “Hey, I have a question. Do you think I should cut my hair?”

“Um?” Louis asks incredulously. Now, that’s a question that catches him off guard. “Seriously?”

“I… yeah, seriously.” Harry’s blushing, skin hot under Louis’s gaze but Louis refuses to look anywhere else, not when his boyfriend is going to spring stupid fucking questions like that on him. “I dunno, I just fancy a change. A spruce up, if you will.” He shrugs again. “But if you don’t like the idea then I won’t do it.”

“I… I dunno, I’ve not ever considered it a thing.” Louis’s still watching him carefully. “I’m… I guess it just caught me off guard, I dunno. I’m… I guess I’m just confused because you’ve spent so many years growing it. I just never thought you’d get rid of it.”

“Me neither,” Harry admits. “But. Maybe.” He finally meets Louis’s gaze at they pause at some traffic lights. “Give it some thought for me, will you?”

“Hey,” Louis says softly, running his knuckles over Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t mean to come across so harshly, but he just can’t imagine his Harry without his trademark curls. “If you want to then you should. My opinion doesn’t matter much, does it?”

“Well, it matters more than anyone else’s.”

“Listen,” Louis tells him sternly. “It’s going to take more than you cutting your hair for me to leave you, I hope you know that.” He snorts, then runs his hand down to rub at Harry’s hip.  “Live your best life, my darling.”

Harry snorts as he turns onto the dual carriageway. “Okay, love, okay. I’ll give it some thought. No rash decisions today.”

“Good boy,” Louis says, and then, “hey, you wanna have sex instead of watching Bake Off?”

Harry’s laughter rings loud and raucous through the car.

The following week the pair go to a Chinese restaurant near the river, dining on duck pancakes and fresh prawns and beautiful white wine. The week after that they bring Lottie and her boyfriend Tommy to a brasserie, where they drink craft ale and eat the best sausages and mash Louis’s ever had. As summer carries on they go to more and more new places, beer gardens and fancy restaurants, even a vineyard, and it’s so much fun. It’s nice to go out and explore and try new stuff, and even better that they start getting an excuse to go to more unique and elaborate places for Harry’s work.

Harry’s food column is really starting to take off again since he took an indefinite hiatus after Louis’s accident. He’d started his food blog way back in their university days, reviewing small independents in the city that were within a student budget, and over time that had grown into something much bigger than he’d ever anticipated. He was picked up by a national newspaper just before graduating, which was wild and exciting and terrifying all at once, and Louis had never been prouder. He was being published within two months of starting there and the whole thing had just snowballed, and it was incredible to be a part of.

Before the accident he was working crazy hours and crazy days, getting out four to five reviews a week for restaurants all over the country. It was getting to the point where top name chefs were emailing Harry’s team inviting him (and sometimes a plus one) to new eateries all over the country, hoping he’d come and give them a glowing review. He was slowly but steadily climbing to the top of his game, with a hell of a lot of followers on social media and weekly hits in the six figures.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Harry got an invite to Paris either. He had planned to go, even booking a hotel on his own credit card so he could stay an extra couple of days. But then a few days before he was meant to fly out Louis’s injury had happened, and he’d cancelled the trip and never rescheduled. They’d never really talked about it, and in hindsight Louis should have anticipated that now things are picking up for him again he might get invited further afield again, but this catches him completely off guard.

He never means for it to be a big deal, not then and certainly not now. He’s never been very good at being apart from Harry, even back when he was at university and Harry was still in Sixth Form, but he never wanted his neediness (something he’d deny until he was blue in the face anyway) to hold Harry back, and it shouldn’t. He could be a bit of a pissbaby and maybe bombard Harry with too many text messages when he would go away for a few nights, but it was always in good humour. He never actually meant he had to stay home and babysit him, for crying out loud.

But now it’s a different ball game and they both know it. Louis needs constant attention in a different way and it’s not feasible for Harry to just call and say he’s been offered a gig down in London so he’ll be away for the night because Louis literally can’t even open the door to the kitchen without help, let alone take a shower, cook a meal or get himself ready for bed.

It’s not his fault but it’s one of those things that feels like his fault, and when Harry returns home late and in a funny mood even Lottie, who’d been Louis’s assistant for the day, gives him a wide berth. He seems tired, irritated and his mind is definitely elsewhere. And Louis doesn’t know what to make of it so he does what he always ends up doing - he keeps his mouth shut, knowing that Harry will tell him when he’s ready to tell him.

They had plans to go out for dinner, as they do every Tuesday, but Louis finds himself hanging back, almost unsure of whether they’ll actually be going. But Harry reappears into his office with a fresh outfit and a tight smile, and Louis can’t be arsed to argue.

They head to a new Italian that’s opened on the other side of their town. This isn’t a work trip for Harry; they had seen it advertised on Facebook and they’d just fancied it, and Louis is glad. He’s pretty sure Harry’s shitty mood is because something shitty happened at work today (Harry always hates his one long day a week in the office) and he hopes that a nice, chilled out meal where he’s not got any added pressure will ease him out of it.

Boy, was he wrong.

“So I had this, um, this meeting at work today,” Harry mumbles once they’ve sat down and ordered, and something about the tone in which he says it makes Louis’s stomach drop. By now Harry would have taken his hands across the table or something else dumb and affectionate like that but tonight he can’t seem to even look Louis in the eye.

“And?” he croaks, unsure of what to expect from Harry’s answer.

“They want me to go to New York in February,” he says, then finally looks up. “For two weeks.”

Louis blinks at him. “That’s it? That’s what you’ve had me worried for over an hour about?”

Harry frowns, blinking at him a few times. “What do you mean, that’s it?”

Louis has to laugh. “So you’re going to New York on a business trip. That’s fucking sick, Haz. When in Feb?” He gasps. “Not over Zayn and Liam’s wedding, I hope?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, thankfully not. No, I’d be here for my birthday and the wedding.”

Louis nods and shrugs. “So what’s the problem?”

“Well, I can’t go, can I?” Harry says, and he sounds frustrated. Louis’s stomach drops again. “Unless you can come with me, of course.”

“What?” Louis says incredulously, a little too loud for their restaurant setting. But the question and the tone in which Harry asked the question really caught him off guard. He lowers his voice a little as he says, “why not?”

“You know why, Louis,” Harry hisses. He looks tense, like he doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“Oh, because I need you to look after me,” Louis says, tone flat. He’s already annoyed and with that his defences have gone straight up. “And that’s why I need to come. Not because you want to go to New York with me, but because you need to get me dressed and wipe my arse.”

“Well, yes?” Harry says, cheeks flaming, phrasing it like a question. If Louis could kick him right now he would.

“I have a mother too, you know,” he tuts, crossing his arms defensively. “And a sister and some very good friends. Liam Payne? Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

“Please don’t get snippy with me,” Harry says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like I don’t know that, is it? It’s that… well, it’s partly that I want you to come with me, but…”

“But?”

“But I’d obviously need to check with work regarding expenses and stuff,” Harry says. “I want you to come but I don’t want to take the piss.”

Louis’s mouth drops open. “Did you… did you really just say that? Wow, Harry.”

“Look, I feel like I can’t win here,” Harry snaps. “You’re right, I am your carer so yes, it isn’t feasible for me to just up and leave on a work trip. But also I want you to come with me because you’re my boyfriend and I love you and we’ve been talking about going to New York for fucking years, but we both know it’ll come with some complications.”

“Right, okay,” Louis says hollowly, then shuts up when the waiter places their meals in front of them. He doesn’t really know what to say right now and he knows he isn’t always the most tactful when he’s pissed off, so he opts to focus on his linguine instead.

Thank fuck he chose a plate of food that he doesn’t need Harry’s help with.

The rest of the meal is awkward and the drive home is silent. Louis won’t even look Harry in the eye when he transfers him from chair to car and then car back to chair when they arrive back to their house. Once they’re inside he wheels himself straight to his office and closes the door behind him, something he never does regardless of whether Harry’s in the house or not.

He’s too tired to really focus on work so he answers a few of the emails he’s been putting off until there’s a weak knock on the door.

“Louis?” Harry calls without opening it. Louis stays quiet. “Can I come in?” There’s a heavy sigh and it sounds like a stamp of a foot. “I… I really hate the idea I upset you over this, Lou. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

Louis groans. “You can come in.”

Harry shuffles in sheepishly, lips pressed together and body hunched over. He does look fucking miserable, Louis has to admit, and he can’t work out if he’s been crying or not. And suddenly he feels awful, because ultimately everything Harry does comes from a good place, a loving place, it always does. It hurts to think he’s seen as a liability but at the end of the day he knows he is, and Harry shouldn’t have to feel bad about that. He’s never been very good at staying mad at his boyfriend, but especially not when it’s his own stupid fault.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry says, taking a seat on the chair next to Louis and reaching for his hands. He’s tentative, like he isn’t sure whether Louis is going to snatch his hands back or not but Louis doesn’t. “I wasn’t thinking when I spoke, and that’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is that we have to have these conversations at all,” Louis says hoarsely, nudging himself closer to Harry. “I want you to go to New York and I want you to feel like you can just take me places without having to apologise for me being this way.”

“Louis.” Harry gapes at him. “Louis, fuck me. That is not what I was saying in all this. Shit.” He sniffs and fuck , maybe he is about to cry. “I meant it like I don’t want to go if you can’t go and they’ve offered to pay partner’s expenses if you can get the time off work. They know you’re in a chair, for fuck’s sake. They’ve just emailed me back and told me they need a list of the things you’ll need and they’ll get back to me within a week to see if it’s possible to get us a hotel and transport and shit like that.”

“Oh.” Louis keeps his gaze fixed on Harry’s hands “So what did you mean in the restaurant when you said you couldn’t go without me?”

“I mean… alright, I meant it like you took it,” Harry says forlornly after a pause. “I don’t… I dunno, I just don’t like the idea of me going away for a bit and having someone else do that for you, I dunno.”

Louis frowns. “Harry, that’s not fair.”

“I know,” Harry says, then uncurls his hand from Louis’s and uses it to gently knock his chin up so they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “I know it’s not fair. So I don’t really know why I feel this way.”

“That having to happen is inevitable,” Louis says. “Just because it hasn’t yet doesn’t mean it shouldn’t either.”

“I know,” Harry repeats. “And I feel guilty for feeling like that and I… I took it out on you, a little. I dunno why.” A tear escapes the corner of his eye. “Louis… I am so sorry I made you feel like shit like that. I’m just…” He bows his head, so Louis gently mirrors his actions from earlier, uses his fist to gently push Harry’s chin back up. “I don’t want to sound like a dick when I say this but I think I’m going to no matter how I word it.”

“Tell me,” Louis says, and it comes out more strangled than he means it to.

Harry takes a deep breath. “There’s a part of me… that would love a break.” He rushes out the last bit. When Louis’s eyes go wide he shakes his head frantically, then takes Louis’s face in his trembling hands. “Not, like, from our relationship or anything like that. Fuck no.” He stares into Louis’s eyes with such an intensity, with such a fierceness that Louis almost goes cross-eyed. “I love you so much and I want to be there for you every single step of the way. And I’ve been there every single morning for the past two years getting you out of bed and dressing you and doing everything but…” He sniffs again. “Some mornings I just wanna sleep in without the interruption of a nurse. Sometimes I just want to be able to lie how I wanna lie and have a duvet all to myself and be in a bed alone.” Another tear slides down his cheek and the guilt on his face is deep set when he says, “but I don’t want to leave you and I don’t want you to feel like that’s your fault, alright?”

“Harry, baby,” Louis says slowly, still trying to find his voice in all this. “I… that’s normal, babe. How can I be cross because you want something normal?”

Harry blinks. “Normal?”

“Baby.” Louis snorts a laugh. “Harry, my darling, darling boy.” He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, pressing so close he definitely does go cross-eyed this time. “I fucking want that more than anything.”

There’s a pause. “ What?”

“I would literally love nothing more than to sleep on my fucking back,” Louis says, eyes dropping closed as he thinks about it. Stretched out, legs wide, arms lax by his side. It’s such a simple act yet it sounds like pure fucking bliss. “To sleep with a duvet of my own and to sleep the whole night through without waking up with a spasm, and then worrying I’m going to boot you in the shin because of the stupid spasm.” He laughs hollowly. “We’ve been around each other all day every single day for the best part of three years now, baby. That is too much time together.”

Harry chuckles wetly. “Oh,” he says weakly, and then, “you feel that way too?”

“Harry,” Louis groans, winding a tired arm around Harry’s neck and pulling him closer, resting their foreheads together. “I’m literally here 24/7, being essentially babysat 24/7. I fucking hate it sometimes.” He pauses. “No, scratch that. I fucking hate it the bulk of the time.”

Harry shrugs. “So what? Do… do you still want to come to New York?”

“I would love to go to New York with you,” Louis says honestly. “But I want you to have that time away without me there, I really do.”

Harry licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry says again, then kisses him. Louis kisses back and he finds himself smiling into it. It really is impossible to stay mad at Harry, especially when all they’re both asking for is to go back to normality.

“I’m sorry I’m this way,” Harry mumbles when he pulls back, gently wiping at the corner of Louis’s mouth. Louis shakes his head.

“Sorry for wanting normal things? Don’t be daft.”

Harry goes red again. “Alright, fine. But…” He kisses Louis again quickly. “But if you think you’re not coming to New York with me then you’re the daft one.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “I thought we just agreed I’m not coming.”

“Well, maybe,” Harry says, shrugging a little. “But come on, Louis. You’ve got to come to New York with me. I can’t go to New York and not bring you, can I?”

“I mean, you could…” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off with another kiss.

“No, I couldn’t,” he says gently once they’ve pulled apart. “And yes, I agree that maybe some time apart would do us a bit of good, maybe. But I also know you pretty well and I know no matter how much you profess to being okay about me going to New York alone, you’d actually be pretty pissed at me if I did that, so.”

Louis snorts. “Alright, fair enough.” He bumps their foreheads together again. “I’m sorry I got all pissy with you in the restaurant. That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel inferior,” Harry whispers, pressing his lips together. He looks despondent and guilty still and he really doesn’t need to because Louis’s long forgiven him. He runs a hand over the back of Harry’s neck, shakes his head against his.

“You didn’t,” he says, only lying a little. “And anyway, I love you and can’t stay mad at you for long because…” He pulls back and throws his arms in the air. “You’re taking me to New York.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, I am,” he says proudly, and he puts his hands on his hips and thrusts his chest forward. “And it’s going to be the best work-slash-holiday trip ever.”

That night they curl up together and compile the list for Harry’s managers so they have an idea of what they’ll need on the trip. They Google hotels and look at cab companies and see how many of them offer accessible cars and gradually the whole dreamy idea looks like it could become a reality.

But then it doesn’t.

The next day Harry comes home looking all mopey, hair tied up in a scraggly topknot and his tie loose around his neck. He traipses into Louis’s office and flops down on the sofa with a heavy sigh, and Louis takes one look at him before he bursts out laughing.

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

Harry glares at him. “Work did,” he grunts, then sighs again. “New York is off the cards, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh.” The smile slides off Louis’s face. “Why?”

“Apparently the hotel they wanted to put us up in can’t accommodate us until the following week and that would mean being there over Zayn and Liam’s wedding, so I had to tell them no.”

“Oh.” Louis frowns. “What, there’s only one hotel in the whole of New York that can accommodate a guest in a chair?”

“I know,” Harry says, voice soft. “I know, I said that to Ben. I said it feels like I’m being fobbed off.”

“And what did he say to that?”

“He said ultimately it’s not his call to make, even though he agrees it’s really fucking unfair. There’s a few others in the area where we’d need to stay but it’s New York, isn’t it? The hotels over there aren’t exactly cheap. But that price difference is peanuts to a company like this, which is why Ben and I spent the day trying to argue it.”

Louis sighs. “So what happens now?”

Harry laughs but it’s empty. “Either I go the week before without you, stay where they want me to stay and I’m back in the country before Zayn and Liam’s wedding. Or neither of us go at all.”

Neither of them say anything for a bit.

“You should go,” Louis says eventually, quietly. “It’s your fucking career, Harry, and it’s… I mean, at the end of the day you’ve got to view it like a work trip. It’s not like it’s a holiday, is it?” He shrugs. “I mean, how many other companies would pay for their partner to go away with them?”

This time when Harry laughs it’s laced with at least a little bit of humour. “Louis. Not many people are in our situation, are they?” He unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt. “Think about how easily they just let me return to work after the nine months I had off after your injury. That wasn’t even me in hospital. We aren’t even married yet, for fuck’s sake. My issue is they’ve always been so ready to accommodate for you before, so why stop now?”

“Haz, it’s fine,” Louis says, even though everything doesn’t feel fine. He’s a little offended, he can’t deny that, but at the end of the day he can see why Harry’s managers have made the decision they have. “I’m not… it’s okay, you should still go.”

“Nah, I already told them where to shove it,” Harry breathes, shaking his head. “How can I say yes when they’re being like this? Nope, I’m not doing it. It’s the principle of the damn thing.”

“ Harry. ” Louis is torn between being baffled and proud. “It’s New York. ”

“New York will still be there next year when we’ve got the time and money to go ourselves,” Harry says. “And also, it’s not really a massive career move. It’s just a business trip.”

“Still…” Louis rolls over to him, resting his fists on Harry’s knees. “I thought you wanted the time away?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not like this I don’t.” He covers Louis’s hands with his and squeezes. “Maybe another time? Right now I can’t imagine anything worse than not being able to curl up next to you, not after the shit day at work I’ve just had.”

Louis chuckles. “Alright, darling, alright. I still think you’re a mug, but you’re my mug and I love you for what you’re doing.”

“I love you too,” Harry grins, pecking him softly on the lips, and then, “Fuck them anyway. Let’s have a treat night instead, shall we? Curry for tea?”

Curry is one of Louis’s favourite takeaways because nothing needs cutting up and he can eat it all with his hands. Harry knows this and always offers up a curry when he thinks something he’s said or done has hurt Louis’s feelings, and Louis isn’t sure if Harry knows that he’s cottoned on to this. Nevertheless, he’s hungry and tired and wants to lighten the mood, and a lazy night in their pyjamas eating poppadoms seems a good way to do that.

“Christ, you must be in a bad place to willingly suggest feeding me junk food,” he jokes, but he nods. “I’m down for that.”

Even though Harry says it’s fine, his behaviour says otherwise. He feels… off, almost, in the days following his decision and Louis has no idea what to do. He can’t shake the feeling that this is his fault still, which is kinda is, but it’s also not his fault that Harry’s being such a damn martyr about it.

So they keep on keeping on, as they always do. Louis tries to keep things as cheery as possible when it’s just the two of them, which seems to be a lot this week as he has two hospital appointments and some extra time with Claire scheduled.

By the time Friday rolls around Louis is exhausted and in a pretty bad mood. He’d slept badly and woken up with cramps in both his legs, and Harry’s still acting weird so he pointedly doesn’t ask him for help in loosening his muscles even though he wants nothing more than a massage. The nurse has been and gone and he knows he’s got work to do, but he tells Harry he doesn’t want to get up yet.

“I slept shitty and I want to go back to bed,” he informs him, punctuated by a yawn. Harry nods and helps lift him enough so he can shimmy his boxers back up, but keeps quiet. “Here, will you put my phone under the pillow so I can ring you when I want to actually get up?”

“Yeah,” Harry says blandly, and he scoops Louis up without another word, sliding him back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over him. “I, um… do you want to sleep on your back?”

Louis blinks at him. “Do… do you think I could?”

Harry shrugs at him. “Well, I mean you’ve got no tubes to get in the way. Worth a shot, innit?”

Louis nods against the pillow and wriggles a little, trying to get comfy. This position feels alien now and the more he wriggles the tighter his joints start to feel and he ends up spasming, hard.

“Jesus Christ.”

“You alright?” Harry asks in a low voice. He wraps a hand around Louis’s wrist. “Shit, Lou, you’re wound tight.”

“I know,” Louis says hotly, with more bite than he’d intended. He’s just so uncomfortable. “I slept so bad.”

Harry sighs. “Baby, why didn’t you just say?”

Louis tries to shrug but it just ends up triggering another spasm, and he hisses. “ Fucking hell.”

“Roll over for me,” Harry says softly after he’s ridden it out, putting a gentle hand on Louis’s hip. “Let me work on your shoulders for a bit, come on.”

Louis does as he’s told. When his back is properly turned and he can no longer see Harry’s face he mutters, “And my legs please.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles. “Yeah, sure.”

Without another word said between them Harry uses deft, well-practiced movements to start working the horrible kinks out of Louis’s shoulders and back. He pauses each time Louis’s tired body starts to spasm, letting him ride it out as Claire told him to, but gradually they become less frequent and less intense, which is a relief.

“Thank you,” Louis all but whispers. Harry’s fingers slow but don’t stop, and Louis feels the bed dip as his boyfriend slides onto the mattress before he presses a lingering kiss into the back of Louis’s head.

“Louis.”

Louis groans softly. “Yeah, babe?”

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s tone makes it very clear that he’s not just asking about his muscles.

“No,” he answers honestly, and then, “Roll me back over?”

Harry does. When he’s back on his back and Harry’s hand still hasn’t moved from his hip he rubs a fist up and down his forearm, a silent apology.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Louis sighs. He may as well swallow his pride and say it because he hates it when Harry’s upset. “You want me to be completely honest? Okay. I feel like you’re cross with me. For… you know.” He knows he doesn’t have to say it, he knows Harry knows.

Harry’s brows furrow together, his mouth dropping open like he wants to say something, then he snaps it closed again.

“Why would you think that?”

Sighing again, Louis shoots him a look. He’s definitely not going to be able to get back to sleep now. “Well, aren’t you?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Harry says, licking his lips. When he next speaks it’s in a slow, careful tone, like he’s really thinking about his words. “I’m mad about the situation, sure. But it’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Harry,” Louis says, voice cracking. He’s too tired for this, as well as emotionally drained from feeling on edge all week. “Go to New York. Please. I’m literally begging you here.”

“ No. ”

“Harry…”

“I said no, Louis.” Harry already sounds annoyed. “I’m not going to New York and that’s final.”

“This is dumb…”

“No, do you know what’s dumb?” Harry cuts in. “What’s dumb is the fact that you always, always view yourself as the reason I’m not doing something when that’s almost never the case. We’re two adults in a long term relationship, Louis. We’ve talked it over. If I wanted to go, I’d fucking go.”

“But you’ve been, like, off with me all week,” Louis says weakly, not prepared for Harry’s retort to be so sharp.

“ You’ve been off with me all week,” Harry shoots back. He groans. “Okay, listen. I have… my reasons for not going, alright? Can we just leave it at that?”

“Of course we can’t,” Louis snaps. “You can’t dangle that string like that and expect me to just accept it.” He hugs the duvet up around his neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. The idea of Harry keeping a secret from him is foreign and uncomfortable. He certainly has no secrets from him. “Why, Harry? It’s not… I literally don’t understand why you can’t tell me.”

Harry groans again. “Alright, alright. Can I… can you not look at me when I tell you this?”

What.

Louis finds himself going cold even under the duvet.  “What?”

“It’s not… it’s nothing bad,” Harry rushes out, and he looks guilty and upset and torn all at once. “I know how it sounds but I swear it’s nothing bad. Listen. I need… I had this plan, okay?” Louis feels the bed dip as he perches on the end of it, resting a gentle hand on Louis’s tummy. That makes him feel a little better, he can’t deny. “Okay, so like… in New York… ” He hears him swallow thickly. “Jesus Christ, I can’t actually believe I’m telling you this.”

Louis rolls his eyes even though he’s facing the other way. “Harry, I swear to god…”

“Look, I had this… this plan,” he says again. “This fucking brilliant plan for a… a certain question I wanted to ask you, alright?”

Louis’s eyes fly open and he practically propels himself back over. “ Harry.”

“It was gonna be so perfect,” Harry carries on, still not meeting Louis’s eyes. He’s bright red and Louis can see tiny little beads of sweat gathering on his temples, even in the low light. “And you know I… you know this is something I’ve - we’ve - been thinking about for a long time and it has to be perfect, it has to. And I had it all worked out but then… then it fell through and that’s…”

He cuts himself off because Louis starts grabbing at his wrists, trying with his meek upper body to pull Harry forward so he can have a fucking cuddle. His mind is racing at 1000 miles an hour and his heart is beating Harry Harry Harry. He needs him in his arms right fucking now.

“Lou, what...”

“Come here,” croaks Louis, tugging again, and this time Harry goes. He moves the duvet back and slides inside it and their bodies crash together, frantic on Louis’s part and needy on Harry’s.

They lie there for a long time after that.

“I had… I had no idea,” Louis admits quietly into Harry’s chest. He tightens his grip around Harry’s middle. “No idea at all.”

“You weren’t ever meant to,” Harry says with a wet chuckle. He strokes through Louis’s hair. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It still would have been a surprise wherever you did it.”

“Maybe,” Harry concedes. “But it was one of those where I’d convinced myself it was going to happen and I’d got it all planned out in my head only for it to fall through. That’s why I’m so upset, babe. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“I’m still sorry,” Louis mumbles. He wants to be Harry’s fiancé more than anything. “Shit. I want to be your fiancé more than anything. You know that, right?”

Harry nods, kisses the top of his head again. “I do know that.” He sighs. “Like, I feel like I’ve known that for such a long time. And I feel like I should be able to just pop the question, shouldn’t I? I should just do it and then we can stop all this messing around because I want to be your fiancé more than anything too.”

Louis surges forward and kisses him properly. He’s overwhelmed and nervous and excited and fuck - this is really not how he thought this conversation was going to go. He really saw a fight happening and now… now he feels like he’s flying. And Harry’s kissing back with force, with bite, and suddenly it’s messy and suddenly he’s being rolled onto his back and his hold around Harry breaks as Harry pins his wrists to the bed, eyes wild and hair all over the place.

“Louis Tomlinson,” he begins, voice quivering.

Louis’s breath hitches.

Is that happening?

When Harry starts speaking again he’s rushing, blurting his words in a way that’s so different to how calculated he was being just minutes ago. “I have been in love with you for so long and I already know I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

A tear slips down his face and falls into Louis’s neck. Neither of them flinch. “I love you too,” he all but whispers, and that’s all he can manage, at least for right now. He knows he shouldn’t interrupt this but he needs Harry to know. It’s the surest thing he knows in this world.

Because this is really happening.

“You make me so happy even though you’re so infuriating and you answer me back every single time I ask you do something and you complain about my cooking and you haven’t let me win a single argument since we got together but I don’t give a shit because I want to argue with you until I’m dead, quite frankly.”

“Wow,” Louis giggles, has to, because what a statement.

“Louis,” Harry says, face breaking out into the biggest, wisest grin that Louis thinks he’s ever seen on his boyfriend’s face. “Look, I probably would have gotten on one knee for this under any other circumstances and I know I just babbled on about wanting it a certain way but this… this actually feels so right, doesn’t it? Just going for it?”

He nods. “Say it,” Louis says.

“Marry me, Louis,” Harry says, then bites his lip. “Tell me you’ll be my husband.”

“Yes.” He’s crying already and Harry’s now crying and they crash together, bodies colliding heavily as Harry pulls them impossibly closer, kissing whatever part of Louis’s chest and face and neck his lips can reach. “Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you , holy shit! ”

Harry’s laughing and it’s the most beautiful sound in the whole world. Louis finally finds his mouth with his own and they kiss and they kiss and it’s messy and damp and suddenly they’re both crying and shaking but they’re still laughing and it’s honestly the greatest moment of Louis’s entire fucking life.

“I love you,” he gets out between kisses, then makes a strange squawking sound when Harry locks his legs around Louis’s and rolls them over so he’s lying on top of Harry, lying atop his chest like a cat. “God, I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Harry says, and when Louis goes to awkwardly brush away some of the tears as best he can they laugh again. “ God. Fucking hell. You’re my favourite person in the whole world, god.” He pulls Louis closer, closer, closer. “Who needs New York when I have everything I need right here?”

Louis groans and digs his chin into Harry’s collarbone. “What a line .”

“Listen,” Harry tells him, poking at his nose. Louis scrunches up his face and pretends to bite at him. “You’ve just agreed to marry me, baby. You’ve therefore agreed to laugh at my jokes and accept my cheesy one-liners for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, I take it back then,” Louis says with a sniff.

Harry flicks him on the cheek.

“Oh my god,” he says suddenly, and his eyes go wide. “Here, shall I get you the ring?”

Louis blanches. “You… you have the ring already?” He frowns. “But we weren’t even meant to go until next year?”

“Baby,” Harry says, drawing him in for another long kiss. “Baby, I’ve had the ring since I was 18.”

Louis’s mouth drops open. That feels a little…  dramatic, even on a Hopeless Romantic Harry level. “Excuse me?”

“Not… not in a creepy way,” Harry laughs, then pouts. “Please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“You knew you wanted to marry me at 18?” Louis has to ask, because yeah, they’d been together a while at that point but Louis definitely wasn’t thinking about marriage back then. “For reals?”

“No,” Harry answers, then bops Louis on the nose. “Will you let me explain?”

“Go on then.”

“You remember when my grandad died?”

Louis nods. Of course he remembers. It had been about a month before Harry’s A-Level exams and Harry had been a right mess. Louis had been traveling back and forth between uni and home to be with him and at that time he’d never seen him so upset.

“Remember how I told you he’d left me some money but not the little ornament from his house I’d really wanted?”

Louis nods again.

“Well that was… a very small lie. He left me that money but he also left me his wedding ring because… well. You’re going to scoff.”

“I am not going to scoff,” Louis scoffs.

“Well.” Harry’s face is bright red again. “It was engraved, wasn’t it?”

Louis’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “And he was obviously called Hugh and she was Lydia, so, like, the engraving… well, it works perfectly for us, doesn’t it?”

“You fucking soppy arsehole,” Louis breathes out, then surges forward for another kiss. He doesn’t ever want to stop kissing Harry and now he doesn’t have to. “You knew… even back then? You knew?”

“Well, obviously I didn’t know know, but I kept it a secret just in case.” Harry’s positively magenta at this point . “I thought it was a lovely twist of fate regardless.”

“You’re insane,” Louis tells him. “But it’s a good insane. A lovely insane, in fact.”

Harry grins. “So do you want it?”

“Obviously,” Louis says. “Where is it?”

Harry draws Louis into him again and sits up, then carefully rearranges them so Louis is sat upright using a pillow for support. He slides off the bed and waddles over to their wardrobe, where he pulls out a cardboard box from the top shelf.

“It got easier to hide, I see,” Louis chuckles. Harry rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, it did,” he says. “Although before I had it hidden in a box of batteries in the cleaning cupboard ‘cos I knew you’d never go in there either.”

“ Oi.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Harry trots back over, box in hand, and he sits back on the bed. He cracks it open slowly and Louis’s breath hitches a little because oh fuck, he’s finally getting his ring!

“Here you are,” Harry says, sounding strangled. Louis thinks he might cry. “Can I put it on you?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, holding out his left hand. The ring is gold, fairly simple and plain all the way round with the exception of two little diamonds at the front. It looks well worn and Harry lifts it closer so Louis can make out the H+L written on the inside, and he feels tears prick the back of his eyes again. It’s beautiful in its simplicity and Louis can’t believe this is actually happening.

Harry carefully sets the box on Louis’s lap as he ever so gently uncurls Louis’s ring finger. He’s suddenly very aware of how much he’s trembling in his excitement and it takes a few attempts, but eventually they get it straight enough for Harry to slide the ring onto.

It’s big. It’s much too big for Louis’s little hands but Louis doesn’t want to ever take it off and he’s only been wearing it four seconds.

“I… I didn’t even think about the fit,” Harry says, and he sounds upset. Louis shakes his head.

“Haz, it’s fine.” He holds out his hand to admire it. “It’s beautiful, in fact. I can’t believe you saved this for me.”

“But it doesn’t fit,” Harry says miserably. “We… I can take it to get adjusted for you tomorrow, is that alright?”

Louis can’t stop staring at his hand. “I… I mean, if you want?” he says, already unimpressed at the thought he might have to take it off. “I mean, it’s not like it’s going to fall off me, is it?” He shakes his permanently curled fingers for emphasis. “See what I mean?”

“True.” But Harry’s still frowning. “Or… I mean, is it comfortable? Do you feel like it’s going to annoy you?”

“I dunno yet,” Louis says with a chuckle. He lets himself fall into Harry’s body again, cuddling up against his chest. “But I’m happy with it as is. I don’t want you to make any mega adjustments to it if you don’t have to. It’s such a… like it’s clear how important this is to you, you know?”

Harry curls an arm around him and noses at his hair. “Alright,” he mumbles into Louis’s temple. “Let me know later, yeah?”

Louis snorts. “Babe. I’m not gonna stop letting you know about it, believe me. You’ll never be able to shut me up.”

“Me neither,” Harry admits, squeezing him even tighter. “I’m… fuck, I’m so happy, Louis. Just so happy.”

“Same.” Louis shuffles up a little higher in Harry’s arms and pulls Harry’s hand into his lap. He’s wearing a ring on his index and middle finger already, always has on his left hand, but Louis can’t help feeling it looks weird him having one and Harry not.

He wants to buy him a ring.

“I want to buy you a ring,” he announces, flipping Harry’s hand over. “One that you want. Whatever one you want, literally.”

Harry’s eyes go wide. “You… what, really?”

“Really really,” Louis tells him, smiling softly at Harry’s surprise. Why he seems surprised he has no idea. They’re both hopeless romantics and possessive bastards rolled into one. It’s probably one of the reasons they work so well together. “You got the proposal and you also get the walking down the aisle bit, so the least I can do is buy you a ring.” Harry curls his fingers around Louis’s fist and squeezes. “I know it won’t have the same cool backstory that yours has but I…”

“I don’t care.” Harry uses his free hand to nudge Louis’s chin up and presses their lips together again, close mouthed but long and drawn out. They’re both smiling too hard to deepen it right now. When they pull apart Harry rubs their noses together in an Eskimo kiss and Louis winds his arms back around Harry’s neck and pulls him back down, and they don’t leave their bed for a long time after that.

It gets to around noon before they decide to emerge. After they’ve showered and dressed and gotten comfy on the sofa they order in a pizza (Louis’s choice, of course, but he doesn’t want Harry to be away from him for measly things like cooking, for fuck’s sake) and settle Harry’s Macbook on a dining chair opposite so they can FaceTime their mothers.

“Whose shall we go with first?” Louis asks, tugging his sleeves down to cover his hands.

“Hmmm,” Harry mumbles. “Well, mine is definitely home so we can call her first. And we’ll have to phone Gemma separately, of course.”

“Oh, god, and we’re gonna have to phone my mum, then Mark, then Lottie and Tommy, then Fizzy at uni.” Louis gasps. “Oh, Jesus. Then Liam, then Zayn, then Niall, then Hailee, because they’ll all be fuming if they don’t hear it direct from us.” He knocks his head against Harry’s shoulder. “Why oh why do we have to be so popular?”

Harry laughs and kisses the crown of his head. “It’s a hard life, isn’t it, baby?”

“It is,” Louis says sombrely. He sighs. “Why don’t we just text them instead?”

Harry’s eyes go wide. “Louis,” he says slowly, “Do you really think for one second our families are going to let us get away with announcing our engagement to them over Whatsapp?”

“Sure, why not?” Louis shrugs. “I mean, we have a group chat with all our friends, haven’t we? And my Tomlinson family group chat has Lottie and Fizzy and my mum in it, and…”

“No.” Harry’s tone is flat. “Absolutely not.”

Louis sighs again. “Alright, well then you come up with a compromise, asshole.”

Harry flicks Louis on the nose again and licks his lips as he mulls it over. “What about…” he starts, then pauses again for a second. “What about if we text everyone that…”

“Harry, I will hit you…”

“... that we want them to come over tonight and keep it quiet, then when everyone is here we tell them. If they haven’t seen your ring and twigged it themselves, of course,” he finishes, peering over at Louis, holding back a little in case Louis does actually decide to hit him.

“That’s… not actually a bad shout,” Louis mumbles. He hates it when Harry’s right. “The only thing is it might be a little short notice but we can work with it.”

“Yeah, anyone who can’t come we can call later, can’t we?”

“You know, you’re not just a pretty face,” Louis grins, then winds his arms around Harry’s middle once more. Harry hums and returns the cuddle, which ends up being more than a cuddle, and they don’t end up texting everyone until it’s definitely too late.

Sue them. They just got engaged, they’re allowed to be handsy.

And as luck would have it, almost everyone can come, with the exception of Mark and Fizzy, the former being at work and the latter being fifty miles away at uni. In the hours before everyone turns up Harry whips together a chilli that he leaves in the slow cooker before he runs to Asda for rice, snacks and champagne. When he gets back they end up at Louis’s computer until guests arrive, searching for the perfect ring for Harry.

There’s one that really sticks out, from a jewellers in the next town over. It’s expensive, so they don’t order it straight away, but they do phone the shop and ask if they can put it on reserve for tomorrow so they can come and look at it.

Harry could have a ring on his finger by tomorrow.

Fucking hell, this really isn’t how Louis saw his Friday going, but fuck, he’s not complaining.

He’ll never complain about any of this.

It’s Lottie who arrives first and she’s barely inside the house before she notices the ring on Louis’s hand.

“What the fuck is that?” she demands, pointing between him and Harry, eyes wide. “Is this… are you…?”

“Maybe,” Louis says with a Cheshire cat grin, and she shrieks so loud he has to roll backwards. “Oi, fucking hell, woman. Calm down.”

“Engaged!” she yells, then jumps forward and throws her arms around him, shaking him from side to side a little more roughly than he was ready for. She kisses all over his face and then, once Louis has successfully batted her off, she rushes over and does the same to Harry. “You guys. You guys. ” She claps her hands together then winds an arm around Harry’s waist. “Since when?”

“Since about ten o’clock this morning,” Harry tells her, beaming over at Louis as he says it. “We couldn’t wait any longer.”

“This is the best. This is the best,” Lottie squeals. “Let’s see the ring, Lou, come here.”

“It’s a bit big but I’m working with it,” Louis says as he moves towards her, pushing his wheel with one hand and holding out his other. “It was Harry’s grandad’s wedding ring.”

Lottie squeals again as she takes Louis’s hand, then wraps him in another hug before he knows what’s happening. “This is amazing.”

“Oh my god, we get it, ” Louis says, rolling his eyes over-dramatically. “You’re not allowed to just announce it though. We want to make people work for it.”

Lottie pouts. “Would I do such a thing?”

Louis eyes her. “Maybe.”

‘Maybe’ turns out to be ‘absolutely’ as Gemma turns up next, still in her posh suit from work, and Lottie blurts it out before she’s even finished giving Harry a hug hello.

“Harry asked Louis to marry him!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lottie!”

“What? How am I meant to keep this quiet?”

“Because I fucking asked you to, you bitch!”

“Will you two calm down…”

“You’re engaged?”

“Surprise?”

Gemma steps back, looking between Louis and her brother, hands pressed over her mouth. “Engaged?” she repeats, her eyes twinkling with mirth and excitement. “That’s… fuck, you two, that’s amazing, oh my god.” She pushes herself back into her brother’s arms and starts squealing, just like Lottie had.

Girls are strange, Louis decides.

“But I thought you were... you know, New York?” he hears Gemma whisper. Subtlety has never been her strong point. Harry shakes his head.

“Fell through and I couldn’t wait,” he says with a shrug. “It was kinda spur of the moment anyway but, like, in a really good way.”

Gemma nods then moves over to Louis, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight. Louis knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. “Lou,” she breathes out, and he squeezes her back. “Congrats, baby. This is amazing.”

“Thank you, Gems,” he mumbles, trying not to get choked up himself. Everything is just so much today. “Thank you.”

And if Louis thinks he’s going to cry when Gemma gives him a hug, he’s vastly ill-prepared for Anne’s reaction.

Anne bursts into tears, loud uncontrollable sobs that Louis has never seen from her before. Harry bundles her up into a hug and looks frantically between Louis and his sister, who then look at each other with wide eyes.

“Mum?” Harry croaks gently. “Mum, are you okay?”

She tears back, a weird, manic look on her face, and she slaps him on the chest, hard.

“Ow!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she howls, then hits him again. “Why didn’t you call me straight away? I raised you better than this!”

Louis isn’t sure whether to laugh or to try and rescue Harry. He chooses the former.

“We wanted to get everyone together…”

“But you still tell your mother first,” she shrills, then turns to Louis with that same manic expression. He promptly stops laughing. “I hope your mother knows.”

“Um,” Louis says dumbly, which earns Harry another slap.

“Ow! Mum!”

“The pair of you!” Anne takes Harry’s face in her hands and drags him down to her height, then she starts kissing all over his face. “But… I… am… so… happy… for… you…” she gets out in between kisses, then draws him back in for another tight hug. “Oh, you idiot boy. You idiot, idiot boy!”

“Thanks, Mum,” Harry mumbles, looking miserably at Louis, who’s back to laughing. They look a right sight.

“And you!” Anne suddenly drops Harry and spins around to Louis, who shuts up again. “You… my darling, darling boy!”

“How is he your darling boy but I’m an idiot?” Harry asks incredulously, hands on hips. “I’m your bloody son!”

“And now Louis will be too,” Anne says brightly, crossing the room in three long strides before she takes Louis’s face in her hands and kisses all over him as well. “Oh, baby. Oh, I’m so happy. So happy!”

When she pulls back she’s got tears in her eyes again, and that’s what makes Louis well up.

“Thank you, Anne,” he says softly, squeezing her wrist between his two fists.

“No, thank you,” Anne says, and then she’s crying again. “I’m so happy it’s you he’s marrying, so bloody happy. You’re the love of his life…” She cuts herself off with a sob and then Harry’s there again, winding his arms around her waist and cuddling her in. Louis really wishes he could join in.

“Mum.” Harry croaks, and like he already knows what Louis’s thinking he coaxes her to bend down and wraps Louis up in the hug with her. “God, Mummy…”

The doorbell rings again and they break apart. Lottie goes and answers the door and it’s Niall, Hailee, Zayn and Liam, with Lucy on Liam’s shoulders. There are various greetings and cries of “Hello!” as they move down into the living room, and once they’re in Louis doesn’t even bother making them sweat because he’s too riled up and too excited and quite frankly too bloody emotional.

“I’m engaged!” he yells, throwing his left hand in the air once they’re all in eyeshot. “Harry and I got bloody engaged!”

It has pretty much the reaction he’s expecting.

Everyone stops in their tracks for a few seconds, then Hailee bursts into tears and the three lads run towards Louis and Harry at a worrying speed, yelling and screaming so loud in congratulations that Lucy also starts to cry in her confusion.

“Your Uncle Louis is marrying Uncle Harry, baby,” Niall says, scooping Lucy up onto his hip. He’s still grinning from ear to ear, then he elbows Harry cheekily with his free arm. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She looks at Niall like he’s stupid. “They should already be married, Daddy,” she tells him, little face all scrunched up. Then she turns to Louis and Harry. “Why aren’t you married already? What’s the big deal?”

Louis schools his face into something more serious, and he can tell Harry’s trying really hard (and failing) not to laugh. “I’m sorry, Lucy,” he says sombrely. “Uncle Harry and I will make sure we do it soon.”

“Good,” she says, seemingly pleased they’ve gotten it sorted to her standard now, wiggling to get down out of her father’s hold. “And I’m not allowed to yell in the house so why are you?”

She really is Niall’s daughter.

Louis’s mum cries the most, turning up late with all the kids in tow. By this point Louis’s migrated onto the sofa, where it’s easier for him to hug people, and she takes one look at Louis’s left hand, Harry’s right hand clasped tight in it, and her face just crumples.

“You two,” she croaks, then rushes forward and wraps them both up in her arms. She’s only small, but somehow her hugs have always felt all-encompassing and warm in a way nobody else’s, not even Harry’s, ever have. “Oh, you darling two.” She turns to Harry and squeezes his cheeks, stroking a thumb over the apples. “Harry, my darling Harry.”

“Hi, Jay,” he croaks out, curling his hands around her wrists. “I’m… sorry I didn’t, like, get to ask your permission or anything, it was kind of spur of the moment and…”

“You don’t need my permission,” Jay scoffs, then bundles him into a hug. “You’ve basically always had my permission, for fuck’s sake.”

Louis’s eyes go wide. “Mum!”

“He has, darling,” Jay tells him, then practically hauls him into her lap like he’s a kid again and cradles him close. Harry kisses his temple quickly and shuffles a little the other way, giving them some time, just mum and son. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, even though nobody else is listening. “You’re gonna make such a good forever pair, the two of you.”

Louis laughs quietly and hugs her back. “I feel like we always were a forever pair.”

“Maybe,” Jay says with a small shrug. “You put the boy through a hell of a lot and he’s still around. I’m so proud of and grateful to him for that, you have no idea. I couldn’t do what he does now.”

Louis burns hot. “Mum…”

“I have six other kids, darling,” she says gently. “Of course I couldn’t. But he just took it on without question and… and the way he looks at you and handles you shows me he still loves you and that’s so important to me, Lou. So important.”

“Well, obviously,” Louis says, cheeks still flaming.

“Look, I’m not trying to make you feel shitty, baby, that’s the last thing I ever want to do.” Jay takes her son’s face in her hands and forces him to look at her. “My point was I’m your mother and it’s my job to worry. I’ve worried about you every day for the past 25 years anyway, but the last few years I’ve just worried a little more, yeah? But I’m so glad I’ve never had to worry about Harry, or whether I was leaving you in the wrong hands, or if you were ever in a shitty relationship with someone who was only staying because they felt they had to.” She presses a kiss onto Louis’s slightly sweaty forehead. “I love Harry like he’s my own and I always will. And I’m proud you picked a partner that you’re proud of.”

“Thank you, Mum,” Louis croaks, winding an arm around her neck so he can pull her into an awkward hug. It doesn’t last long before Harry charges into the kitchen yelling, “Oh my god, I forgot we got champagne!” but it lasts long enough. His mum’s approval means everything and he’s content to just lie here and cuddle her for a bit, because he doesn’t get to do it that much anymore.

Champagne (and Ribena for the kids) is passed around and they all cheers the happy couple, which makes a fair few people (both their mothers) start crying again, especially once they’ve announced that their plan for tomorrow is to find Harry an engagement ring to match. After that there’s food in vast quantities, followed by pudding, and it’s just so nice and relaxing and wonderful to share the best news of Louis’s life with his favourite people in the whole world. He wants to do this every week, and part of him wants the celebrations to go on long into the night.

But there’s another part of him, a selfish part, that wants everyone to leave so he can fold himself back into Harry’s arms and never leave.

It’s dark when everyone eventually leaves, with kids asleep in parents’ arms and the kitchen and living room an absolute disaster. There’s half-drunk champagne glasses and bits of rice trodden into the carpet, but that’s another problem for another day, in Louis’s humble opinion.

He tidies up as best he can from his chair (which isn’t the best, he can’t lie) before he rolls into the kitchen. Harry’s stacking the dishwasher, fucking Marigold gloves on his hands, but Louis isn’t having any of it.

“Leave it,” Louis tells him, tugging at his elbow. “Leave it and take me to bed.”

“In a second, baby,” Harry says, though he already sounds torn. “Just let me…”

“Leave it and take me to bed,” Louis repeats. “I shouldn’t have to ask you again, Haz, it’s our fucking engagement night.”

“You’re such a mouthy little fuck,” Harry says with a sigh, but he pulls his Marigolds off and does just that. He scoops Louis out of his chair and carries him into the bedroom, where they kiss and touch and mumble the lamest, cheesiest shit against each other’s lips. They make love until the early hours, the sound of rain pit-pattering against the windows outside, and then again once the sun rises and they’re meant to be getting ready. But Louis can’t help the fact that he wakes up hard some mornings, and when he does they like to take advantage of it because it doesn’t always happen anymore, so they do.

Twice.

Their plan was to be up bright and early and in the car by 9 anyway so they can drive to the little jewellers to see if Harry’s potential ring is everything they hope it is. They manage to get on the road only an hour later than planned, which in Louis’s mind is a victory in itself, because as much as he wants this ring he also wants to have sex again. And again. And again.

“There’s time… fuck, Lou… for this later,” Harry says, batting Louis’s hands away when they go to cup his dick through his jeans. He’s the perfect height to do it in his chair and he decides then and there he doesn’t do it nearly enough. “Louis, stop.”

“Just one more go,” Louis tries, rolling forward, but Harry dodges him neatly.

“No,” he says firmly, then gets behind Louis and grips his wrist so he can’t move at all. Asshole. “Just because you’ve already got your ring…”

“But I want to suck your dick,” Louis whines petulantly. “We’ve not done that yet.”

“We have,” Harry says. “Plenty of times.”

“Not in the last 24 hours though, which is my point.”

“You can suck my dick when we get home but fuck me, Louis, stop being a menace. Stop.”

Louis drops his hands and pouts all the way to the car.

Even though he didn’t get to suck Harry’s dick, Louis is in such a chipper mood the whole drive there. It takes just over an hour so their plan is to pick up the ring first then go for a slap up meal, just the two of them, to make a day of it all.

Normally on long car rides they like to put on Harry’s playlist and sing along to it in loud, out of tune voices but today the music remains low as they natter constantly about all things wedding, from possible honeymoon destinations to who’s going to be in the wedding party.

By the time they get there they’ve decided that Liam is going to be Louis’s best man (obviously) and Harry’s best childhood friend Jonny will be his so neither Niall nor Zayn feel awkward. Lucy will be the flower girl and Ernie and Doris will both be ring bearers, and Louis will meet Harry down the aisle as Harry really wants his parents to give him away.

Finding the jewellers once they’re there is a task and a half, what with Harry trying to push Louis while he navigates them on Google Maps at the same time, but they eventually find it, tucked down a bumpy side street that really hurts Louis’s arse as they go over it.

“This ring better be the best ring ever to warrant that kind of torture,” he tells Harry sternly as Harry holds the door open one-handedly so Louis can wheel himself inside. “My poor bum.”

“I’ll give it a thorough check over later if you like,” Harry smirks, side stepping around Louis so he can push his chair up the little ramp into the shop for him. “Extremely thorough. Better than any medical exam you’ve ever had.”

Louis stares at him. “You’re so fucking weird.”

“Can I help you gentlemen?” a voice asks from somewhere behind them, and they both jump.

Harry recovers first. “Hiya,” he greets, offering the bloke a smile. “I rang yesterday to pop a ring on reserve. Name is Styles?”

“Ah, yes.” He smiles and disappears back through the doorway he came from, then reappears moments later with a green ring box, which he sets down on the glass display in front of Harry. “This one, correct?”

Harry nods dumbly. Louis too is rendered speechless because shit, that’s one hundred million percent Harry’s engagement ring right there. It’s pretty simple and not far off the design of Louis’s, but it has a pair of stones nestled in the front, a blue sapphire and a green jade, and it’s so Harry that Louis will personally knock him out if he decides he doesn’t like it.

Although the look on his face suggests he kinda does.

“Haz…”

“It’s so nice,” Harry stammers, voice catching on the last word. He turns to Louis. “What do you think?”

“I think you should try it on,” Louis says and goddamnit, his voice isn’t much better. “What size is it?”

“This is the last one we have left in your specified size,” the bloke says in a knowing voice, smile big and kind. “But we can make some minor adjustments if we need to.”

Thankfully they don’t need to. It slides into Harry’s finger like it belongs there and they both gasp in sync, even though it’s just putting on a ring, for fuck’s sake. Harry looks at Louis, Louis looks at Harry, and they both know that’s the one they’re taking home.

“I, er, yeah, it fits,” Harry says, swallowing audibly. He looks down at it again and doesn’t tear his eyes away from it. “Oh, Lou. It’s perfect, babe, it’s exactly what I wanted it to be.”

“I’m so pleased, baby,” Louis says, rolling forward so he can get a closer look. “Oh, fuck, it really is a beauty, ain’t it?”

“It is,” Harry says, still in awe. “How much does it cost again?”

“£695,” the man says, folding his arms behind his back.

“That’s… Lou, I mean, can we afford this?” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Shit, I don’t know how much I thought it was but…”

Louis, who had already transferred the money out of his savings account the night before, shuts up him with a gentle nudge of his wheel. “Baby. Be quiet.”

Harry gapes at him. “But Louis…”

“It’s, like, the same price as two plane tickets to New York, yeah?” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “And I’m getting it for you, so be quiet.” He turns to the man behind the counter with a smile. “We’ll take it.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else while Louis pays for the ring, but when the bloke’s back is turned he smacks a wet kiss right onto Louis’s lips, then he keeps a hand on Louis’s shoulder as he punches in his pin and gives his details over for insurance.

They’re almost out the door when Louis remembers something. “Oh!” he says, which stops Harry in his tracks. He gestures with his head for Harry to reverse them. “I meant to ask. Can you resize rings here?”

“Of course,” the man says, furrowing his brows. “Why do you ask?”

“I have my engagement ring here… Haz, can you help me?” Louis holds out his hand and Harry gently uncurls his finger so he can slide it off. “And it’s just a touch too big, but I can’t, like, uncurl my fingers anymore so I don’t know if it’s worth keeping it big for comfort or what.”

The bloke slides out from behind the counter and holds out his hand for the ring. “Hmm,” he says, holding it up to eye height and inspecting it. “Can I see your hand, do you mind?”

Louis shakes his head and holds it up.

“It does look quite a bit larger, yeah,” the man hums. “But what I’d do is shrink it a couple of sizes so it’s still got a little bit of give but not as tight as I’d normally go, how does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Louis beams.

“It’s engraved on the inside,” Harry says, wringing his hands. “So could you not do that bit?”

He chuckles. “Of course I won’t, son.” He glances at his watch. “Have you fellas got a bit of time? Any more shopping to do?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, will it take a bit?”

“About an hour, maybe two depending on how busy I get in here,” he muses. “Are you okay to come back this afternoon?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry nods. “We’re gonna do a bit of shopping then get some lunch, can we come back after that?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods, then claps Harry on the shoulder. “You don’t have to look so worried, lad. This isn’t my first time doing this.” He holds the ring up to the light once more. “Family heirloom on your side, I take it.”

Harry nods, biting his lip. “My grandfather’s wedding ring.”

“It’s in safe hands with me,” the man promises, then claps Louis on the shoulder before he disappears out the back.

“Alright then,” Harry says, then starts pushing Louis again. “Where shall we go first?”

“Hey, are you okay?” Louis says, turning to look at Harry carefully. Maybe he should have checked with him before he did that, but he did say it was okay to do it yesterday. “Sorry, I know I should have checked but…”

“Lou, it’s fine,” Harry says. Once they get out the shop he pulls them over to one side and takes Louis’s hands in his, squeezing. “I promise you, it’s fine. I’m, like, a little nervous, not gonna lie, but it’s what you need, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, “But I should have…”

“Louis, my love,” Harry cuts him off and squeezes his hands again. “The ring is yours now. Yesterday was the first and last time I’m gonna propose to anyone and the ring is yours. I want you and your baby hands to feel comfortable wearing it, yeah?”

“Dickhead,” Louis mutters, but he’s smiling. “Alright, darling. I love you, yeah?”

“Love you too,” Harry says with a grin, then after a brief kiss they start walking back towards the main shopping centre, ready to kill some time.

They buy a few bits here and there - Louis grabs a new game for his X-Box and Harry buys them both some new Calvin Klein boxers - then they find a nice, kind of posh restaurant to eat lunch in.

“I have an idea,” Louis whispers across the table once the waiter has taken their drinks order. He’s a genius, honestly. “Where’s the ring?”

Harry frowns, confusion reading clear on his face. “In your bag, why?”

“I have an idea,” Louis says again, rubbing his hands together. “I’m so good. Get it out for me, will you?”

“What are you doing?” Harry sounds less than impressed. “Louis.”

“Get me the ring,” Louis urges. If he could kick Harry he would. “Listen. Just follow my lead, yeah?”

“I don’t like this,” Harry says, eyes wide, but he gets up and pulls the ring box out of Louis’s bag anyway. He sets it on the table next to Louis’s water glass. “Tell me what you’re doing please.”

“Follow my lead,” Louis hisses, then beams as the waiter comes over with their drinks. He reels off their food order for them, then winks at Harry when he turns and disappears off. “Right, it’s time. Harry.”

“Louis?”

“Harry, my darling Harry,” Louis starts, louder than his usual voice. People are starting to look over at them now, which for once is exactly what he wants. Harry’s eyes are like saucers. “I have been in love with you for eight years now, the best eight years of my life, and I know we’ve had some horrible, horrible times since my accident but you’ve stuck by me and I want to keep you forever!”

Harry looks, quite frankly, bloody terrified. Everyone in the room is looking at them now, and Louis grins wide, reaching forward to touch Harry’s pink cheek.

“Marry me, Harry,” he says, fumbling to get the ring box open. Once it’s open he nudges it across the table and Harry finally catches on, pretending to swoon before he nods frantically.

“Yes!” he croaks, then leans across the table to kiss him. The restaurant explodes into applause and they end up laughing into each other’s mouths. “Yes, Louis, I’ll marry you.”

Their waiter rushes back over, bottle of champagne in hand, as Louis’s sliding the ring as best he can down the fourth finger on Harry’s left hand with his knuckles. “Congratulations!” he yells, Italian accent thick, then uncorks the champagne to more applause from the surrounding tables. “That was so lovely to witness, oh my goodness.”

“Thank you,” Louis says somberly. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, my darling?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry purrs. “But such a lovely surprise. I mean, I kinda knew it was inevitable but I was not expecting this today. What a shock!”

They get their bottle of champagne and their meals on the house, which was basically the whole point of Louis’s plan to begin with. They end up being congratulated by multiple diners as they leave the restaurant, calling them everything from adorable to inspiring, and they leave the restaurant after almost two hours with full bellies, great big smiles, and untouched bank accounts.

“I can’t believe we just fucking did that,” Harry says, awe in his tone. “That was brilliant, but fuck, Louis, what a gamble.”

Louis shrugs, still grinning. “A gamble worth gambling, no?”

“I mean, maybe, but my god, if someone had clocked on…”

“Nobody was going to clock on, Haz,” Louis scoffs. “I mean, why the fuck would I have an engagement ring in my bag if I’m not here to propose, am I right?”

“Jammy bastard,” Harry sighs. “You’re right though. It’s hilarious but, like, I dunno. Is it not a little bit deceitful?”

“Deceitful, maybe, but I just spent nearly seven hundred quid on one thing today, so I’ll take the money saving where I can get it, babe,” Louis tells him. Harry sighs.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbles, then pats Louis on the head. “Thank you for proposing.”

“You’re welcome for proposing,” Louis says, leaning his head back for Harry to kiss him on the lips instead. It’s a daft move to do on a relatively busy pavement, but Harry does it anyway, smiling against Louis’s lips.

They make their way back to the ring shop once they’ve nipped into a couple more shops on the way back. The resized ring feels so much more comfortable on Louis’s hand, and he’s also given it a polish so it’s much more shiny. They don’t even have to pay - “you’ve spent enough with me today, lads, so consider this a wedding present from me to you” - and once it’s safely and snuggly back on Louis’s ring finger, they thank him profusely once again they head back to the car.

And when they get home, Louis gets to suck Harry’s dick, so all’s well that ends well.

And the celebrations don’t stop there. Mark takes them out for a slap up meal on the Sunday to make up for not being able to make it on the Friday, which is lovely and decadent and special.

Then Louis officially asks Liam to be his best man the following day while they’re having another celebratory dinner at the pub, even though there was never really any question about who it was going to be, honestly . But Liam cries and Louis cries and then Harry cries and Paul cracks open another bottle of champagne and demands to know where Harry and Louis’s reception is going to be held because “ if it ain’t here you bastards are barred” is yelled at them in such a serious voice that it has everybody in stitches.

Louis’s on such a high that he almost forgets he actually has to do work otherwise he won’t be able to afford to pay for the wedding, and it takes a few days to slide back into reality. He’s been neglecting work so much that he has to cancel a poker night with the lads that Wednesday so he can work for nearly 12 hours straight. It’s a long old day of drawing and drafting and then redrafting, and he only stops when a haggard looking Harry comes into his study and tells him it’s almost 1am and can he please let Harry go to bed.

“Sorry, darling,” Louis says with a wince, clicking save on all his files. He’s practically done anyway, he’ll just need to give them a quick once over in the morning before he sends them over to his manager for the final sign off. “I hadn’t realised what time it is.” He shuts down the computer and then holds out his arms. “You okay to do it like this?”

Despite his obvious tiredness, Harry chuckles then pretends to mull it over. “Am I too tired to accept my fiancé into my arms? Hmmm.” He shakes his head and then shrugs. “I guess I can live with it.”

Louis grins. “Come here, you.”

Harry scoops him up, then narrowly avoids yawning right in Louis’s face. “Urgh, sorry babe.”

Louis tucks his face into Harry’s neck, kissing his collarbones. “You’re alright,” he mumbles, suddenly very aware of how tired he is himself. “Are you working tomorrow?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nope. I might go over some stuff for next week but it’s nothing pressing, thankfully.” He uses his shoulder to knock open their bedroom door. “You?”

“Yeah, got a bit to do still.” Harry gently lays him on the bed and they make quick work of his t-shirt. “Nothing major but enough to keep me out of trouble.”

“So we can have a bit of a lie in then,” Harry murmurs, sliding Louis’s Toms off his feet. “Thank fuck tomorrow isn’t a nurse morning.”

“Thank fuck indeed.” Louis groans as he takes a moment to let his body stretch itself out, which results in only a small spasm, thank god. “Here, I’ll sleep in just my boxers, I think.”

“Yeah?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. Get yourself ready and I’m gonna have a bit of a stretch.”

“You aching?”

“Only a bit,” Louis answers honestly. He likes just lying on his bed sometimes and moving what bits of him will move, just to remind himself he still can. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks, Lou. Wildly reassuring.”

Harry strips down to nothing at all and then climbs into bed before Louis can say anything. His feet are freezing and he presses the soles of them into Louis’s ankles, which is the one part of him that still feels temperature as normal. It makes him squawk.

“Fuck off.”

Harry lets out a very manly giggle and then sighs, burying his face in Louis’s shoulder. “Wanna hold you for a bit, come here.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “And what makes you think I’m gonna let you after that?” But even as he says it, he lets Harry wrap him up in his arms and he presses closer. He could easily fall asleep like this, they both could, but they can’t and they both know it, which sucks.

They keep themselves awake with light chatter, because Louis has been trapped in his office all day and they’ve not really caught up, and naturally, talk turns to the wedding again.

“Did you mean what you said before?” Louis asks, toying with Harry’s necklace. “About us wearing all blue and having matching ties and shit?”

“Did I say anything about matching ties?” Harry questions. “I don’t know if I care about the ties.”

“That’s a bold faced lie,” Louis tells him, poking him in the chest. “You’re fully going to be obsessed with every single tiny detail. You’ll be worse than Liam.”

Harry snorts. “Alright, yeah, probably. But you’re not allowed to complain because it’s our wedding and if it’s not perfect then I’ll be very upset.”

“Um, yes, I fucking well am.” Louis bares his teeth and Harry laughs, kissing the grimace away. “If you drive me as crazy as Liam’s driving me I swear to fucking god…”

“Liam and Zayn’s wedding is a whole different kettle of fish,” Harry says, always the pragmatic one. “Liam wants a big white wedding with the proper three courses and the cake based on their history together and great big canvases blown up with pictures of them decorating the hall and all that bollocks.” He pauses. “I mean, unless you want that? Because I want a big-ish wedding, sure, but I want it to be ours. We’ve both said we want a fair amount of people there but I want it to be more, like… rustic?”

“Haz,” Louis giggles, then leans forward and pecks him on the nose, giggling again as Harry goes cross-eyed. “I want that too. But please…” Another peck. “I know what you’re like and you’ll start doodling all these specific ideas in your little book and you’ll get het up with niche little plans. And I love that, I really do, but we’ve been engaged for five days, darling.”

Harry pulls a face. “And?”

“And we have time, is my point,” Louis finishes. “We haven’t even looked at potential dates yet.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little prepared,” Harry says with a pout. “It’s like… oh, whatever. I’m just really fucking excited.”

“Me too,” Louis agrees quietly, and his big fat grin is back. “I’m so fucking excited. I can’t believe I’m going to be your goddamn husband.”

“ Husband, ” Harry titters, shuffling down a little so he can kiss the word into Louis’s mouth. They lie there for a long time, kissing and smiling and kissing some more. It’s near getting outside when they finally get themselves ready to go to bed, which Louis knows he’ll regret tomorrow, and once Louis’s in the right position with the necessary tubes in place he tugs Harry’s arm over him, holding him tight.

“It’s mad, isn’t it?” he mumbles drowsily, glad to now be under the cover of darkness. He’s always found it a thousand times easier to get soppy when it’s dark outside. “It’s mad how much I can’t get enough of you now we’re engaged, you know? Like I know we’d gotten used to sleeping beside one another in this way and it not being uncomfortable when one of us rolled over, but now I just… I just want to sleep with you like this.”

He feels Harry smile into the back of his neck. “Ditto, baby.”

Louis lets out a long breath and lets his eyes drop closed, all ready for sleep. He’s just drifting off when Harry shuffles forward a little bit, closer to Louis. Normally Louis wouldn’t care that much but it feels like all of Harry’s long hair is suddenly tucked right at the base of his neck and it fucking tickles.

He tries to squirm away but Harry’s holding him firm, and the fucker has always had the ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. But there’s no way Louis’s going to be able to sleep like this, so he begrudgingly prods him back awake.

He comes back to life with a start and an eloquent grunt of, “Huh?”

“Sorry, babe,” Louis murmurs gently. “Can you flick your hair back? It’s driving me mad.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, shaking his head so his hair is safely out the way. And then, like he knows what Louis’s going to say next, he scratches the patch of skin where the hair had been sitting. “That okay?”

“Perfect,” Louis says, and then, “I’m sorry I had to wake you but that was driving me crazy.”

“It’s alright,” Harry tells him, punctuated by a yawn. “It is like a separate entity these days.” Another yawn, and then, “Maybe I should cut it like I said I was going to.”

Louis snorts weakly, shaking his head. “Sure, babe,” he says dryly. Harry can talk about it all he wants, but they both know he won’t actually cut it. It’s his pride and joy. “Do whatever you want.”

It’s a lot easier to drift off to sleep after that, the smile still firm on his face.

*