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Harry leans lazily against the wall on the bus, trying very hard to focus while checking his e-mails on his phone, but his vision’s a bit blurry. He's re-reading the same sentence for the third time when he hears Liam calling his name. He looks up, eyes trying to adjust to the bright overhead lights, and immediately squints his eyes shut. When he opens them again, it’s just to see sparkles and stars and a very out of focus Liam.
Liam walks up to him slowly, frowning deeply as he sees Harry blinking. ‘What’s wrong, Haz? You look knackered.’
'Really? Hadn't noticed,’ Harry retorts.
‘You should have a kip, mate. Lie down for a bit.’
‘Thanks a lot for the advice. I hadn’t even thought of that yet,’ Harry snaps and immediately regrets it, he didn’t mean to sound so sulky and childish, but the lack of sleep has really been getting to him.
‘Oh no, someone’s grumpy. C’mere, you,’ Liam says as he reaches out for Harry’s arm and pulls him into a hug as easy as anything. Harry lets himself be embraced, Liam’s arms around his torso - one hand settling on his waist, the other on his lower back - and feels his muscles relax almost instantly at Liam’s body heat seeping through their clothes and warming his own body. It’s always so effortless, getting hugged by Liam, so easy to just let go and stop thinking. Harry leans in closer, puts his arms around Liam’s neck and buries his face there as well, his mouth probably very close to the birthmark he finds so endearing.
He huffs out a long, unsteady breath and rubs his nose further into the soft skin of Liam’s neck. Inhaling deeply, he drinks in Liam’s scent. Harry feels bad for snapping at him when all he does is be nice to Harry in return. His guilt lies heavy in his stomach, but he couldn't help it, he's been feeling tired and on edge all the time lately. Liam starts rubbing soothing circles on Harry’s back with one hand, and all Harry can do is focus on his breathing - in and out, in and out.
''m sorry,' he mumbles into Liam's neck.
‘Want to tell me what’s wrong?’ Liam asks, almost a whisper, but Harry can still feel the vibration of Liam’s voice prickling on his skin, sinking deep into his bones.
It takes Harry a while to answer, and Liam waits for him to speak up, doesn’t push any further.
‘I can’t sleep.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know, that’s my problem. I just lie awake and like, doze off sometimes but then I wake up again after a while and like. I’ve not been able to sleep even a few hours straight for three nights in a row now. It’s driving me mad.’
Liam hums in agreement. ’That’s rubbish.’
Harry feels one of Liam’s hands come up and dip into his mop of hair, stroking his head lightly; and Harry can’t help but let out a little moan because it is so nice and he can feel his muscles relax so he steps a bit closer to Liam - slumps down a little further - lets the weight of his body sink onto Liam and lets himself be held.
‘Have you tried anything to help you sleep? Like, home remedies or something.’
‘No.’
‘Well, maybe you should. Try it out.’
‘Okay, but I don’t know any home remedies. I’ve never had trouble sleeping before.’ Harry whines, moving his head up to lean into Liam’s touch, eager like a kitten seeking to be stroked.
Liam laughs a little in return, ‘Haz, don’t play dumb. We’ll google some for you then. And I hate to say it, but you’re getting a little heavy. How about you lie down in your bunk for a bit?’
‘Only if you come with me.’
Suddenly Liam’s hand stills where it’s been smoothly running through Harry’s hair and Harry feels him tensing up a bit - but only for a split second - so that he is left wondering if he only imagined it or if it really happened.
‘Come with you?’ Liam asks.
‘Yes.’ Liam’s hands are always so warm and soft and have the power to make him relax. He lets his thoughts drift a little, about the meaning of it all, if he’s supposed to be thinking about Liam’s hands like that until every fibre of his body is yearning to be touched. He gives in to the itch, just wants to scratch it and make it stop. ‘You can do that thing where you scratch my head, it feels really awesome. I bet that’ll help me fall asleep.’
Harry slowly loosens his grip on Liam, pulls back to look up at him with the most innocent puppy-eyed look he can muster. He knows from experience that Liam’s not going to be able to say No to that face.
‘Really? You’re going there?’
‘I just went there.’ Harry responds, dimpled smile spreading across his face. ‘Come on, Liam, let’s cuddle. You’re my hug dealer, remember?’
‘Yeah, alright.’ Liam smiles, and follows Harry as he climbs up into his bunk.
;;
‘So, I’ve googled a few things that should help you with your sleeping problem,’ Liam says as he looks up from his laptop. He’s in the back lounge of the tour bus, sitting cross-legged on the couch, Harry next to him in the same position, but with his nose buried in a book.
When he doesn’t look up, Liam bumps his knee with his own, eliciting a quiet growl out of Harry.
‘What?’ Harry asks, frowning at him.
‘I said I googled something for you. It’s a list of 15 Things To Do When You Can't Fall Asleep.’ He adds air quotes when he reads it out and Harry can’t help rolling his eyes at Liam.
‘Well, what does it say?’ he asks, quite curious now, putting the book to his side and shuffling closer to Liam. If Harry puts an arm around Liam’s shoulder and leans against his broad back to rest his chin on his other shoulder, well then it’s only to get a better view of the screen.
‘Well, what about the first one? Have a relaxing bath right before you go to bed. Sounds nice, yeah? Maybe you could do that on hotel nights.’
‘Hmmm, ‘spose I could.’ Harry mumbles into Liam’s shoulder, as he leans in just a bit closer, nuzzling his neck. Liam always smells so nice, and he’s warm and comfortable, unlike any pillow Harry’s encountered in the past.
‘You do yoga, right? It says that should help as well. Maybe you could just try a relaxing sort of yoga, meditation yoga or something?’ Liam asks, moving his shoulder a little to move Harry’s head and get his attention.
Harry just hums and tries to find a position he’s comfortable in. They’re so close now that he can feel Liam talking, a pleasant low rumble going from Liam’s body through his own.
‘What about breathing techniques?’ Liam asks.
‘Like this, you mean?’ Harry takes a couple of deep breaths and feels his head grow heavier.
Liam huffs out a laugh, ‘Yeah, like that. Only I think there are, like, actual techniques you’re meant to use?’
He hums in response to whatever Liam said, he’s not sure anymore, something about relaxing maybe? He’s relaxing just fine.
;;
Harry tries, he really does. He tries all the things Liam told him about. They just never work out the way they should, and they never end with Harry sleeping.
When he takes a bath, the water is too hot and instead of feeling sleepy afterwards he’s only restless, dizzy and sweaty.
When he puts lavender oil on his wrists, neck and pillow before he goes to bed, he just gets a massive headache that doesn’t let him drift off until the early morning hours.
When he listens to a chill out mix and does relaxation exercises, he only ends up coming up with new song ideas in his head and spends hours scribbling in his journal until the sun rises.
When he does yoga, he uses a carpet instead of a yoga mat and slips on it, ends up straining his thigh muscles and can’t go crazy during their shows for a few days and it just frustrates him more.
There must be another way to wear his body out, he figures, to get so exhausted that there’s no other option than to fall asleep, and that’s how he ends up late at night in the hotel gym, working out with Niall.
Harry’s walking on the treadmill while Niall lifts weights across from him. Niall's going on about the ISS and how you can see it from the earth because it’s huge enough to reflect the sunlight and Harry isn’t really paying attention - at least not the way he usually does when someone, and especially Niall, is talking to him. It's not that he's not interested, it's that he can't focus on anything and his thoughts are hazy. He feels so bloody tired and yet can never seem to fall asleep - it makes him angry and frustrated.
'You even listening to me, mate?' Niall's face comes into vision, up close and in Harry's personal space. Wait, how did he move so fast?
Harry gives him an apologetic smile, 'Sorry, I've just. I'm so tired I must have like, zoned out or something.'
Niall stands right next to the treadmill, cocked hip and raised eyebrows. 'Why’re you not in bed, then?'
'That's the thing. I can't sleep. Thought a proper workout would wear me out eventually.'
'What d’you mean, you can't sleep? Just saw you napping on Liam's shoulder earlier,' Niall says with a laugh.
Oh. He's right.
It doesn’t count as proper sleeping, though, Harry figures. It’s been happening a lot lately, on their tour bus, during breaks between interviews, huddled too close together on a sofa, or at meet and greets, Harry hanging off of Liam’s back for a fun snapshot, just allowing himself to close his eyes for a moment. It’s been incredibly easy for Harry to relax around Liam. He’s like a teddy bear, comforting and familiar, something secure that Harry can cling to when he’s feeling restless and frayed.
Beeping noises indicate that Niall's turning off the treadmill for Harry and he slows down his walk, until he finally stops and grabs the towel Niall's offering him.
He wipes it across his forehead and puts it around his neck, stepping off the treadmill.
'Haven't been able to fall asleep at night lately,' he starts explaining to Niall. 'You know I can sleep anywhere and anytime, man. I don't know what's wrong, it started a couple of weeks ago and Liam's been trying to help me with it.'
'And?' Niall prompts.
'And nothing works!' he exclaims.
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, bro. Every time you’re with Liam seems to me like you’re falling asleep on him in no time. I would say it’s working out alright.’
Niall might have a point there. He only seems to be able to fall asleep with Liam around anymore.
‘I mean,’ Harry starts, and he doesn’t know what to say, really. ‘The things he told me to do didn’t help, yeah? But he’s just so warm and so comfortable to be around, that I sort of, like, I can relax when I’m with him, I think.’
They walk over to the bench and sit down together. Harry is still holding on to the towel draped around his neck, unsure where to put his hands.
Niall throws his arm around Harry, comforting, but in a different way, not at all like Liam. ‘Hey, you know I’m here to listen, right?’ He asks and squeezes Harry’s shoulder gently.
Harry knows. And he would love to take Niall up on that offer, except he’s not sure what he would talk about. Is there even something to talk about? The bond between the five of them has always been a close and special one, unlike any other friendship Harry has ever had. He has nothing to compare it to. It’s always been a deeper love, a brotherly love, between them and how can he even differentiate between this love and something even more than that? He can’t explain why it feels so different to be around Liam, and what it is that is so special about it, why he doesn’t feel the need to lean in closer to Niall, who’s also one of his closest mates.
His head starts to hurt and his stomach is in knots, and thinking too hard is a challenge at the moment. Harry’s exhausted and his body is tired, his joints and muscles aching in a way that is uncomfortable, and he just wants to sleep, not think about one of his band mates in a way he’s never thought of him before.
‘Cheers mate, appreciate it. It's just that- I can't even think straight anymore, I don't know what’s going on? I'm just so tired of everything.'
‘Don’t worry about it. But I’m here if you need me, okay?’ Niall squeezes his shoulder reassuringly before he gets up. ‘Come on, we should try to get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.’
‘You’re probably right,’ Harry mumbles and follows Niall into the elevator and up however many floors to their respective hotel rooms.
Dragging his feet along on the plush carpet of the hotel corridor, he realizes just how tired he actually is. His bones feel heavy, and all he can focus on is the comfy double bed in his hotel room. Harry finds himself delighted by the idea of finally lying down.
When he does, all he can think about is Liam.
;;
Harry gets pissed.
He gets properly pissed because he doesn't know what else to do, doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that Liam doesn’t feel like a brother to him anymore, that there’s something more to it, doesn’t know if he should tell him or act on it. Doesn’t know what would happen if he did, and it scares him - the last thing he wants is to ruin a perfectly good friendship with Liam - so he tries not to think about it too much.
Which proves to be difficult because Liam is everywhere.
They have a couple of hours before they have to be back on the tour bus for the ride to the next city, and it is easy enough to drag Niall along. He doesn’t even have to ask, just tells Niall he’s paying for the first two rounds and Niall is already grabbing his wallet and phone.
They go to a relatively small club not far from the hotel, sneaking through the back entrance under Paul’s watchful eye. Inside, it’s shabby but cosy, almost intimate, and small enough that they don’t get recognised by anyone.
‘What do you think?’ Harry asks, elbowing Niall’s side. ‘Sorta underground rock’n’roll, yeah?’
Niall just rolls his eyes, sitting down in a booth in the corner of the club, while Harry orders their drinks at the bar, carries them over and slides in next to him. They toast to a successful tour so far and Harry keeps the drinks coming, impatiently grabs at Niall’s glass every time he’s still downing the rest of his drink. After a few rounds, Harry orders shots too, because he still thinks about Liam whenever he feels Niall’s hand squeeze his shoulder, or leans into him and he just wants to stop thinking.
Against his better judgment, Harry ends up rambling to Niall about Liam and his pretty, plush looking lips. About Liam’s solid shoulders and his warm hands.
Knocking back another shot, Harry carefully sets the glass back onto the table, nudging it until it's lined up neatly with the rest of the empties. He wants to do the same thing with his brain, just pull out all his thoughts and stack them up in neat piles, file away all the ones about Liam and his stupid pouty lips and his dumb solid shoulders and the way his hands feel, warm against Harry’s skin. File them away and lock them up, so he doesn’t have to think about the way he wants to lean in when Liam gets too close, the way he wants to know if Liam’s lips are as soft as they look, or how his stubble would feel, scratching against Harry’s skin.
‘If you were hoping to keep those thoughts to yourself, Harry, getting pissed and telling me was not a great game plan.’
‘Niall,’ Harry whines. ‘Tell me what to do.’
Flagging down a bartender, Niall orders a glass of ice water, sliding it across the table to Harry. ‘Drink this, to start. We’ll talk when you sober up a bit, yeah?’
Sulkily, Harry sips at his water. Niall doesn’t even cuddle him, just squeezes his shoulder again before slipping out of the booth, threading his way through the crowd towards the tiny dance floor.
Gulping down the last of his water, and not feeling any more sober, Harry follows after Niall. He tries to lose himself in the crowd, watching Niall from where he’s pressed between stranger’s sweaty bodies. He can see Niall dancing with a cute girl with glasses - practically beaming at her and trying to impress with his silliest dance moves - and wishes he had someone to dance with as well. Someone with broad shoulders and steady hands, someone who knows exactly how to work their hips and take the lead. He’s moving his limbs in an uncoordinated way, feels weightless like his head is floating, disembodied, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead and neck.
When he catches a glimpse of a ‘Keep Calm and Call Batman’ t-shirt in the crowd, he immediately thinks of Liam. He tells himself he’s imagining it, that Liam has no reason to come here and curses himself for thinking about Liam when the whole reason he went out drinking was to get his mind off of Liam. He pushes through the throng of moving bodies to get to the bar, wants to order another round of shots to numb his senses a bit more.
He doesn’t make it to the bar though, running into someone along the way. Losing his balance and stumbling to the side, he feels the other person grabbing his elbows and pulling him back up. When he looks up to apologise, it’s like a punch to the gut because it’s Liam looking back at him.
‘Liam?’
‘Harry! There you are.’
‘Sorry, I - wait, are you real?’ Harry slurs and wavers a bit, feeling Liam’s hands grip tighter around his elbows and hold him upright.
Liam chuckles quietly, ‘I guess Niall was right. You really did have a lot to drink.’
Harry’s head feels like it’s wrapped up in cotton wool, and it’s really hard to think in this state, but he’s pretty sure Liam’s mentioned Niall and he can’t quite connect the dots, so he frowns, ‘Niall?’
‘Niall texted me, I’m here to pick you up, Haz. Come on, let’s go, Paul’s waiting for us outside.’ Liam says, leaning into Harry’s space so he doesn’t have to shout in order to be heard.
‘No. Stay, Liam. Stay a bit, can we?’ Harry drawls and closes the gap between them.
He puts his arms around Liam’s waist and engulfs him in a tight embrace, leaning his head on Liam’s shoulder. He might have started drinking to forget about the way Liam smells like all the things he wants and doesn't allow himself to have, but it hadn’t worked in the first place; so if Liam is here now, he might as well stay for a bit and let Harry indulge in this for a while. Besides, since he stopped dancing, the ground had started to move beneath his feet so he might just need a moment to take a few deep breaths and get used to it.
‘Can you stay and hold me for a moment? I think the room is spinning, Liam,’ he mumbles into Liam’s neck, lips slowly dragging across the skin. He didn’t mean to do that, but it feels really good, sends shivers down his spine and makes him crave more. Makes him want to do it again, to feel the skin heat up under his lips and taste it; try out if Liam tastes as sweetly as he smells.
He leans in again to nuzzle Liam's neck and moves his nose and lips across Liam's neck slowly. He feels Liam tense up against his own body - feels his throat move but doesn't hear what he's saying - but he doesn't let go, and that is all the encouragement Harry needs. He lets out a slow breath he didn't even realise he was holding and drags his lips over Liam’s Adam's apple, and starts sucking gently on his birthmark.
‘Liam,’ he breathes out, hot air blowing over the wet spot and he can feel Liam shivering slightly, ‘what if,’ he cuts himself off and resumes to suck at the sensitive skin while his hands find their way around Liam’s back and rest at the hem of his shirt. Harry darts his tongue out and licks around the birthmark - tiny little swirly patterns - then moves on to use his teeth, nibbles and bites at the skin, before he closes his lips around it again and sucks a little. He feels Liam’s throat vibrating while he works on it, and he must be talking to him because a moment later Liam's hands reach Harry's hair and he feels a gentle pull, lets himself be pulled off.
When he pulls his head back a little further and glances up, he can't read Liam's face. He looks surprised and shocked and flushed, and Harry can't tell if it's because he liked it or he's embarrassed or mad at Harry. He didn't mean to freak Liam out, but he'd been thinking about this a lot lately and he couldn't help it.
'Harry, mate, I think you've had one too many. Let's get you to bed, alright?' Liam's eyes are downcast as he finally speaks up, deliberately not looking at Harry.
'Alright,' Harry whispers. And then, a beat later, when Liam's still not meeting Harry's eyes, 'I'm sorry, Liam.'
'No, it's fine. Just,' he says, lifting his head to look at Harry, 'let's leave.'
On the ride back, Liam rests his forehead against the cold glass of the car window and looks out into the night. He doesn’t say anything when Harry slides close to him and rests his head on his shoulder, instead just slings an arm around him. Harry closes his eyes, breathing slow and steady, until he feels himself lose consciousness.
He startles awake, feels Liam gently pushing at his shoulder, whispering, 'Hey, Haz, we're here. Wake up, sleepyhead.'
Harry responds with a low and grumpy sounding noise, clinging tighter to Liam.
'Come on, we need to get out,' he whispers, tugging at Harry's arms to pull them off his waist. He bends forward to thank the driver, takes Harry's hand and opens the door. He gets out and pulls Harry after him, shuts the car door and starts walking towards the bus. Harry clings to Liam, he’s sleepy and disoriented, still feeling dizzy and a bit too fuzzy around the edges to walk on his own.
‘Where are we going, Liam?’ he grumbles, trying to keep up with Liam’s pace, which seems impossible.
‘We’re walking to the bus, Harry, so you can lie down and sleep it off, okay?’
‘Okay,’ he huffs out against Liam’s neck, clinging closer to him with each step of the way.
Back on the bus, Liam guides him to the tiny bathroom and helps him brush his teeth while Harry sits on the toilet seat with a hunched back. His head keeps slumping down so that Liam needs to steady his face with one of his hands, while his other is curled around Harry’s and the toothbrush. His head feels so heavy, and his temples begin to throb - the beginning of a gnawing headache - so he knows he should probably drink lots of water and take something before he goes to sleep, or otherwise he’ll regret it in the morning.
‘Okay, Haz, can you stand up and spit in the sink?’ Liam asks.
He slowly drags the toothbrush out of Harry’s mouth and hand and puts it on the sink.
‘Come on, let’s get you up,’ he says and Harry lets himself be pulled up, feeling a sharp pain where Liam’s hands grab him tightly under his armpits.
‘I know you’re sleepy, but can you stand on your own?’
Liam sounds annoyed now, and when Harry looks at him, he looks annoyed, too. Or is he just exhausted? Harry can’t tell, just staggers forward as Liam lets go of him, puts his hands to both sides of the sink and spits the foam into the running water. He rinses his mouth under the spray and it hits him how thirsty he is. He drinks a bit from the tap, then stands back up.
Liam turns it off and says, ‘Alright, let’s get you to bed, then.’
He turns around and leaves the bathroom, holding the door open for Harry who trails after Liam, hands on his temples. The pain is getting more intense, and he thinks to himself that the whole purpose of getting drunk was to forget about Liam, not to be taken care of by him.
‘Need some paracetamol?’
Harry looks up at Liam and nods, ‘Please, yeah.’ He walks slowly to his bunk and leans against it, hiding his face in his hands, trying not to fall asleep right then and there. To keep himself occupied, he starts to take off his shirt, which isn’t as easy as he’d thought it would be, one of his arms getting tangled up and trapped in the sleeve until he’s half undressed. When he hears footsteps coming closer, Harry tries to get out of the shirt but doesn’t manage quickly enough. He looks up and sees Liam, standing next to him with some paracetamol and a bottle of water.
He grins at Harry, ‘Want to take the tablets or get changed first?’
Harry glares at him, ‘Very funny. Help me first?’
Liam puts the bottles on the floor and Harry closes his eyes, a wave of sudden tiredness washing over him. Eyes still closed, he hears a soft, ‘Arms up’ and complies, lifting them up so Liam can pull the shirt up over his head and off.
Liam then hands him the tiny bottle and Harry pops two tablets into his mouth, pushes it back into Liam’s hand and grabs the water, downs the pills with one big gulp.
‘Try to finish the bottle before you go to sleep. Your body needs more water.’
He’s too tired to argue so he does as he’s told and hands the empty bottle back to Liam with a weak smile. He feels dizzy and his head definitely does not approve of the upright position he’s in, so Harry lifts up his leg and grabs it with one of his hands, trying to get his boot off. As it turns out, standing on one leg while the room around you is spinning is pretty hard, and he staggers a bit while struggling with his boot.
‘Get off, you bloody boot,’ mumbles Harry, losing his balance in the process. Once again - for the second time that night - he’s saved by Liam from stumbling face first to the floor.
‘Need some help with that,’ says Liam, and it’s not really a question. He gently pushes Harry against the bunk and gets on his knees. Harry looks down, blinking at Liam, who’s kneeling in front of Harry and whose face is right in front of his crotch, much to Harry’s bewilderment. He’s confused; suddenly all he can hear is the hammering of his heart against his chest, and seriously, what the hell is happening?
He smiles down at Liam and tries to sound nonchalant, ‘It’s okay, I was just talking to my boots, Liam. I wasn’t really talking about getting off.’
It was supposed to be a joke, but Liam’s not laughing. He just scowls at Harry, thick brows drawn together, his cheeks reddened. ‘What are you even talking about? Just try to stand still, alright?’
The next thing Harry feels is his boots getting yanked off of his feet effortlessly, followed by quick and chilly hands pulling his socks off.
Oh.
Liam gets up then, fumbles with Harry’s belt and fly before he gets his jeans down, too quick for Harry to follow, feeling startled and woozy - too woozy - so he squints his eyes shut. He lifts his legs and steps out of the jeans when he feels Liam tap at his calves. Stripped down to his pants, he shivers slightly, wonders if his goosebumps were caused by the air conditioning or Liam helping him undress. Harry feels exposed and vulnerable, which is odd because he spends a good amount of time naked or half-naked in front of the lads, or anyone, really. This time it feels different, like he’s been stripped bare, completely disarmed and his walls have come down. It feels like Liam could see right through him if he wanted to.
He feels Liam move beside him and pull back the curtain of his bunk.
‘Alright, get in,’ he ushers.
Harry risks a glimpse at Liam before he climbs into his bunk. He’s overwhelmed by fondness and equally ashamed of putting Liam through this.
‘’m sorry, Liam,’ he whispers as he lies down and curls in on himself, facing the aisle of the bus.
‘For what?’ Liam asks, sounding surprised.
‘For ruining your night.’
‘Don’t be daft, Harry. You didn’t ruin my night.’
‘For making you take care of me all the time.’
‘I like to look out for you, okay. We’re like brothers, it feels natural.’
‘Oh,’ sighs Harry, ‘you think?’
‘You don’t?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe you’re more than that.’
Liam shuffles his feet, restless, eyes trained on the mattress - almost as if he’s nervous, Harry thinks - and laughs quietly. ‘Okay, well, I think it’s time for you to sleep now.’
‘Okay.’
‘Goodnight, Harry.’ Liam moves to walk away, but Harry reaches out and clasps his wrist, pulls him back easily.
‘Don’t. Can you, maybe,’ Harry pleads with a firm grip on his wrist and big eyes, ‘can you do that hair thing again? Just until I fall asleep, please?’
Liam sighs in defeat, ‘Alright, alright.’
Harry lets go of his arm and gets comfortable, wraps himself up in his blanket and places his head on the pillow, right at the edge of his bunk, so Liam doesn’t have to reach far to touch his head.
‘You’re a great friend. Thank you,’ he whispers as Liam starts to rub the back of his head, fingers carding through thick, soft curls. He closes his eyes and savours the feeling, a slight tickling, the constant pressure of Liam’s fingers massaging his scalp, shivers running down his entire body. He relaxes into it and the throbbing in his skull lessens, he focuses on how good it feels to have someone to do this to him. To have Liam do this to him.
‘Liam?’ he breathes, his head sinking deeper into the soft pillow.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve been thinking about this. What if the only cure for my sleeplessness is you? Like, what if this is like that Disney movie, Sleeping Beauty, but kinda like, reversed? You know, I can only sleep when you’re around. Maybe you have to kiss me to sleep, Liam.’
Liam doesn’t say anything back for a beat or two, then clears his throat and lets out a stilted laugh. ‘Don’t take the piss, mate.’
‘I’m not,’ Harry insists.
Liam’s fingers still in his hair for a long moment, not moving again until Harry pointedly nudges his head into Liam’s palm.
‘Fine, don’t kiss me,’ Harry mumbles. ‘Just don’t stop doing that.’
‘I’m not - Harry, I’m not going to kiss you.’ Liam sounds a little strained. ‘You’re drunk.’
There’s a retort on the tip of his tongue, but the drowsiness is washing over Harry in waves and the words won’t come. ‘So,’ he manages, voice thick with sleep.
‘You don’t mean it,’ Liam says softly, almost too quiet for Harry to catch. Or maybe Harry imagines it, imagines he can hear the disappointment in Liam’s voice as he drifts off to sleep.
;;
The next day, Harry wakes up with what must be one of the worst hangovers he’s ever had in his life. And he’s definitely had a fair amount of hangovers before. What’s worse than the headaches, and the generally feeling poorly, is that Liam doesn’t talk to him all day. Which is probably Harry’s fault too, to be fair.
It starts at breakfast, when he drags his hungover body to the kitchen on the bus. Niall’s sitting on the bench at the kitchen table, munching something and going on and on to Liam who’s sitting opposite him, sipping on a mug of tea.
Harry pours himself a bowl of cereal with milk and grabs a cup of coffee, and when he walks over to the table he hovers awkwardly for a bit, not sure if he should sit down next to Liam or not, so he ends up slotting in right next to Niall.
‘Morning,’ he mumbles, not daring to look up at Liam. Harry takes a sip of his coffee and ends up spilling most of it when Niall pats him on the shoulder, ‘Hey, mate. Good morning to you, too. How we feeling?’
‘Shit, Niall,’ Harry grumbles in response, wiping away the spilt coffee with the edge of his t-shirt. His head is pounding and he pokes at his cereal with the tip of his spoon, unsure if it’ll settle his queasy stomach or make his nausea worse.
Niall cackles, ‘Sorry, but it’s not my fault you’re so hungover you can’t even function this morning.’
He takes a bite off his toast and continues speaking with his full mouth, ‘Should‘ve called Payno earlier last night, eh?’
‘Shouldn’t have called him at all,’ Harry says, but immediately looks up at Liam as though in shock, he didn’t mean for it to come out this harshly and certainly didn’t mean it like that.
He wants to clarify, wants to say something but it gets stuck in his throat when he sees the expression on Liam’s face, sees the way his face falls and he looks away quickly.
‘You were proper drunk, mate,’ Niall giggles and Harry can’t take his eyes off Liam, heart thumping in his chest, desperately searching for the right words, but they never come before Liam gets up and leaves without saying anything.
Harry’s heart sinks and it’s an uncomfortable weight in his belly, stomach flipping over itself until he’s not certain anymore if the ill feeling comes from all the drinks or the thing with Liam.
A couple of hours later, when Harry’s got up from a nap and feels partly human again, he goes to have a shower and wash off the last of his hangover.
He stands under the hot spray of water for a good while first, lets his head hang low, chin pressed to his chest, and just feels the water run over his back. Feels his skin warming up and his muscles loosen a little, he rolls his shoulders and works at the knots in this neck, pressing his thumbs in where he’s tense.
Harry catches himself thinking about Liam’s hands.
When he grabs the shampoo bottle and squirts some into his hand, he closes his eyes and imagines Liam washing his hair for him. Harry soaps up his hair, massages the shampoo in carefully, foam gathering on his head, and he sees Liam’s hands, can feel the ghost of his fingers running through Harry’s hair.
He’s so screwed.
Doesn’t dare open his eyes and look at himself because he knows he can’t deny what’s there if he sees it.
Harry steps back under the spray and lets his head fall back, lets the water sluice over his face and wash down the shampoo. It runs down his body and the memories of last night come rushing back to him with full force, like snapshots.
Him knocking back shots. Him dancing on his own. Him running into Liam’s arms.
He bends forward to reach for the soap and lathers up his arms first, then his chest. Opens his eyes and watches the soap bubbles form and spread on his skin.
Him clinging to Liam. The taste of Liam’s skin, the feel of Harry’s tongue against it, the sharp pang of want in his chest when he looked into Liam’s eyes afterwards.
There’s no avoiding it anymore. Harry swallows down his denial and runs a soapy hand down his stomach, then lower.
The moment he touches himself, a wave of relief rushes through him, letting out a low moan. The soap bar falls to the ground and all Harry can think about is Liam, and how easy it would have been for him to just lean in and kiss him.
He’s already so worked up that he feels weak, knees shaky, has to lean into the tiled wall while his hand works over himself quick and dirty. Imagines how it would have felt to lick Liam’s lips, to feel his tongue on his own, except the skin of his neck.
That's all it takes, then Harry's hips are stuttering and he comes with Liam’s name on his lips.
That’s when he knows he’s screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.
;;
Later that night when there’s a quiet knock on his hotel room door, Harry pads over still feeling grumpy and already making up excuses in his head why he can’t go out tonight; but when he opens the door Liam’s standing there, in a pair of grey track bottoms and a worn out black hoodie, hair still a little wet, and Harry’s heart does a somersault.
Liam grins a bit sheepishly at him, holding up a couple of DVD cases, ‘Movie night?’
‘Alright?’ says Harry, tentatively stepping back from the door, 'Come in.' He thought Liam was avoiding him all day, but now Harry’s not so sure anymore, maybe he’d overreacted? He still feels the need to apologise to Liam, for what he’d said earlier and for always making him take care of him.
Liam walks into the room and straight to the bed, puts down the DVDs and sits down next to them. 'Right, I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for, so I brought a couple of films to choose from.' If Liam isn’t going to make a big deal out of this though, then he isn’t either.
'What did you bring?' Harry asks, walking over to Liam after shutting the door.
'Well,’ Liam says, ‘I've got The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, Disney's Sleeping Beauty...'
Harry can't hold back a laugh, his cheeks pinking up at the mention of Sleeping Beauty and the memories of the night before. He remembers he said something to Liam, something he should have kept to himself, even though he doesn’t remember the exact words he said. 'I can't believe you brought that,' he says, picking up the case, holding it up to take a good look at it. Liam certainly must have brought it for a reason. 'Let’s watch this.'
'Alright,' Liam grins up at Harry.
And just like this, they’re back to normal. It’s as easy as it used to be, and Harry’s heart kicks up again as he walks across the room to pick up his laptop and set it up next to the telly. Liam’s right behind him, standing so close that Harry can feel his body warmth, making his hands shake a little with anticipation. Not enough to be visible, though, and he’s glad Liam can’t see how nervous he is.
Harry clears his throat, ‘Uh, do you want like, something to drink?’
‘Yeah, cheers,’ Liam nods and starts putting the movie on.
‘Um, I have,’ Harry trails off, walks over to the mini bar and opens it so Liam can see, ‘whatever’s in here, I suppose?’
Harry turns to look at Liam and waits for him to decide, all the while holding on to the door of the fridge, slouching down in a rather uncomfortable position.
‘Whatever’s fine,’ Liam says while he’s kicking off his trainers and sits down cross-legged at the right side of the bed. ‘Not here to drink, anyway, am I.’
Of course. But why is he here, Harry asks himself. He turns to grab one of the bottles and settles in next to Liam on the bed as the film starts playing.
There’s a few inches of space between them and Harry tries not to let it distract him, how badly he wants to lean in and close the distance. He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen, pretending he’s as absorbed in the film as Liam appears to be.
Sleeping Beauty has been hidden away in the middle of the woods, which seems a bit dramatic, but somehow Prince Charming has managed to find her anyway. Harry’s about to open his mouth to point out how unrealistic it is, until he remembers that there are also fairies and magic involved, so it’s probably not a very good argument. There’s also the fact that he has no idea where he stands with Liam right now, and interrupting a film to ramble pointlessly isn’t the greatest of ideas.
He risks another glance at Liam, who’s still watching with rapt attention. Something jolts in Harry’s chest. It’s - god, if it’s ridiculous to find your Prince Charming off in the wilderness, then what does it say about Harry that he’s managed to find his in the hotel room in the middle of nowhere, America?
Though that’s not exactly true, either. This thing between him and Liam, whatever it is, wasn’t an instant spark. It snuck up on Harry when he wasn’t expecting it, and he doesn’t know how he got here, over-identifying with a children’s film and pining pathetically for his best mate. Sleep deprivation, he decides. It’s a handy excuse.
Maybe he just needs to sleep. At least that’s one thing Harry’s figured out the solution for.
'Liam,' Harry whispers, turning his head to look at Liam.
'Hmm?'
'Is it still okay if we cuddle?' His voice sounds small, and it mirrors exactly the way he feels.
'Yeah, 'course,' Liam responds, fond smile curling around his lips, and moves closer to Harry.
‘Can I be the little spoon?' Harry aks. His heart feels like it’s stuck in his throat.
‘If you want.’ Liam says, untangling his legs and moving to lie down next to Harry.
He’s holding out his arms and a wave of relief ripples through Harry.
Shifting on the bed, Harry moves to his side and gets settled in Liam’s arms. They twist a few moments until they’re both in a comfortable position, but once they are, Harry can already feel his breathing even out.
It’s only a matter of minutes until he dozes off now, Harry knows it. Feels it because when he lies there, his legs tangled up with Liam’s, one of Liam’s arms a solid weight around his waist, holding him like an anchor, he doesn’t pay attention to the movie anymore. Blurs out everything except the feeling of Liam’s beating heart pressed against his back, steady and calming, lulling him to sleep.
;;
Harry doesn’t know for how long he’s slept when he blinks suddenly awake, a shaft of moonlight bathing the room in a soft glow. His limbs are still heavy with sleep and his head is fuzzy and disoriented. Harry feels safe and warm and after a long moment, it registers that Liam is still spooned behind him, his arm wrapped securely around Harry’s waist. It’s nice, Harry thinks drowsily, and he presses himself back, until he’s flush against Liam from the top of his spine to the bend of his knees.
Several things become apparent all at once. The first is that Liam’s fingers had snuck beneath the hem of Harry’s shirt to trace gentle circles across the laurels inked just above Harry’s hips. The touch becomes obvious when Liam’s fingers still, suddenly frozen as if he’d been caught in some incriminating act. Maybe he had, because the other suddenly apparent thing is that Liam is hard, the evidence pressed up against Harry.
He can feel Liam's breath on his neck, very aware of every part their bodies that are touching. His heart is hammering in his throat and the air around them feels heavy, used up.
For a minute, neither of them say a word and the only sound is twin breaths of air. Then Liam’s catches in his throat, almost ragged, and he starts to shift himself away from Harry, cool air slipping in the space between them, prickling at Harry’s heated skin.
Before Liam can roll away, before the moment is completely shattered, Harry reaches out behind him and grabs Liam’s hip, fingers gripping with determination. They’re tangled up, a confusing knot of limbs, and Harry feels like he could come undone between one heartbeat and the next.
‘I’m not drunk this time,’ he says, voice a little hoarse from sleep and something else. He can hear the gulp as Liam swallows.
‘Don’t play with me, Harry.’ Liam sounds strained and a little sad, almost. Harry doesn’t like that at all. Still gripping Liam’s hip, arm bent awkwardly, Harry grinds back against him with purpose. He can feel the way Liam’s breath stutters, prickling at the sweat dotting his neck, and he nearly grins.
‘Feel like a joke to you?’
Liam buries his face in Harry’s hair, and that won’t do at all. Harry wants to see his face, wants to watch his eyes darken and his lips part with a gasp, wants to see him fall apart, the way that Harry already has.
Rolling onto his stomach, Harry untangles their limbs, pushing up onto his arms. Liam watches him, his bottom lip wet and red, like he’s been biting it. Harry almost groans.
Nudging Liam onto his back, he throws a leg over his thigh until he straddling him, sitting across his legs. Liam’s hands find their way to Harry, fingers running up and down his thighs, his touch like sparks even through his trackies.
‘I need you to tell me if I’ve got this wrong,’ Harry says, ‘because I’m completely serious right now.’
It’s apparently all the encouragement Liam needed, because suddenly he’s thrusting his hips up, upsetting Harry’s balance. He falls forward, catching himself with a palm on the mattress on either side of Liam’s head, his face inches from Liam’s. All Harry has to do is lean down and he’d be kissing him, feeling the slick slide of his lips against Liam’s. A second thought chases the first - there’s nothing stopping him from kissing Liam, his eager eyes and wet mouth an obvious invitation. Harry leans down.
Liam’s mouth is hot, electric; he greedily swallows the small sounds Harry makes. Harry can feel his hips working underneath him, rutting up and seeking friction. Liam’s grip on his hips guiding him, Harry squirms until the angle’s right, until every twitch of Liam’s hips sends tingles of electricity coursing through his veins. They haven’t even managed to get their clothes off, layers of fabric between them, but Harry’s still dizzy with it, the drag of material against his leaking dick, the rough burn of Liam’s stubble against his cheek, the slick heat of Liam’s mouth.
When Liam lets out a quiet little moan and breaks the kiss to plant his mouth on Harry's hot neck, lips soft and wet, it makes something in his head short-circuit. He stops thinking and starts moving with more intent, rutting almost desperately.
‘Please,' Harry whines, not sure what exactly he’s even begging for. One of Liam’s hands runs down Harry’s back, fingers dancing briefly along the edge of Harry’s pants before slipping inside and cupping his arse. Liam uses the leverage to pull Harry closer, breath coming in hot pants, fanning across Harry’s flushed skin.
Harry hasn’t come in his pants since he was sixteen, but he’s also never seen Liam look so wrecked; his pupils blown wide and ringed with honey brown, lips a bruised, puffy red, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. The knowledge that Harry did this, that Liam might let him do it again, that next time he might be able to trace the blush in Liam’s cheeks down his neck, leave a mark on Liam’s skin - it’s a rush like Harry’s never felt.
He comes with a low groan, smothering the sound in Liam’s shoulder, and the erratic hitches of Liam’s hips tells Harry that he’s close too, following Harry over the edge with a muffled shout.
Harry collapses half on top of Liam, still breathing heavily, and Liam lets him, face turned towards Harry so their foreheads touch. It’s an intimate sort of touch, makes Harry feel strangely exposed and wildly thrilled and safe, all at once.
Sweat cools, tacky on his skin, and the mess in his pants is even more uncomfortable as they both come down. Harry’s probably going to need to do something about that, but right now he never wants to move again.
Liam’s fingers find their way to Harry’s hair, scritching at his scalp, and Harry sighs, tucking his face into Liam’s neck.
‘Ugh, gross. Did I just come in my pants, Liam?’ he mumbles into the salty skin.
Liam laughs and Harry feels it rumble through both of their bodies where they’re connected. ‘S’pose we both just did.’
Harry breaks away from Liam’s neck to look at him, needs to see his face when he tells him. ‘It was the hottest fucking thing.’
‘Yeah, I never thought it would happen like this,’ Liam says quietly.
‘Wait, what? So you thought about it before?’ Harry asks, his heart racing.
Liam squeezes his eyes shut, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. ‘Fuck.’
Leaning in closer, Harry pokes Liam’s nose with his own. ‘What? Tell me,’ he demands.
‘Um. Yes?’ Liam peers at Harry through his lashes, a bashful smile forming around his lips. ‘I’ve sort of had this thing for you for a while now?’
Harry’s nose is still pressing into Liam’s, his eyes going cross-eyed but he doesn’t care. He wants to be as close to Liam as possible, fearing he’d fall apart if he let go of him this moment.
‘Oh my god,’ he whispers. ‘It’s mutual.’
Glancing down at their messed up pants, he adds, ‘In case it wasn’t obvious.’
‘You’re an idiot,’ Liam laughs and tightens his grip in Harry’s hair, pulls him down gently and brings him in for another kiss. This time, it’s sweeter, slow and languid, without any rush. Harry loses himself in it, sighs softly into Liam’s mouth and lets him take the lead.
When they break apart again, Liam asks, ‘So, do you think it worked?’
‘Did what work?’ Harry’s confused.
‘Did my kiss cure you?’
‘Oh,’ Harry smiles. ‘I don’t know. Might need to try again. Could take awhile, you know, to get happily ever after right.’
‘Right,’ Liam smiles back and closes the distance between them.
The End