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Later on, Liam won't repeat what the guy said.
Louis didn't hear it, it was too loud in the pub, the football turned up and people cheering. He can guess though, it wouldn't be the first time he's heard it. He's in a boyband, he likes to wear pastels, his features tend to fall closer to pretty than rugged, he likes cuddling his mates in public; if he had to reckon, he'd guess it was somewhere in the arena of fucking faggot.
Louis doesn't let that shite bother him, because if he did, he'd never have left his house, and any way, fuck them for thinking they know him. So fuck that. If he'd heard it in time, he would have told Liam not to bother, that that day-drunk moron and all the others just aren't worth the trouble. He didn't hear it though, so.
He had heard the gasp of the crowd, and turned just in time to see Liam, sweet, kind, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly Liam, bury his fist in some dude's face.
And really, Louis does pay attention in their interviews (well, most of them anyway) and he did know that Liam knew how to box, but somehow he'd never put that knowledge together with the concept of dropping a bloke twice your size to the ground, bleeding from a most-likely broken nose.
"Liam-" Is all he chokes out, and Liam's head whips around to face him, all angry eyebrows and intense eyes.
"Ya little shit," the asshole grinds out, and then he rushes Liam, and oh, my god, this is a proper fight. Louis has no idea what to do. Liam, however, seems to, as he dodges away from the guy at the last second, his feet dancing like Muhammed Ali's in that movie or really, Will Smith, and Louis takes a second to be really, really impressed.
They dance around a bit, the guy swinging and Liam dodging, and it's all tense. But then Liam's sneaker slides on some spilt beer, and he loses his balance and suddenly things are really not amusing any more. The guy grabs Liam by his shirtfront and socks him one in the face, and that is not on, so not on. Louis is really fond of Liam's face. He doesn't even think about it, just picks up a chair and shouts, "Hey, asshole," as he swings it up to use as a weapon.
And really, it's not the best comeback he's ever made, but it does the trick as the guy drops Liam and turns around.
Gulp.
Okay, he's really big. This is not Louis's best plan, and Liam's had his clock rung, shaking his head like a dog, trying to get his sense back. Louis may be about to die in this shitty pub that he'd made Liam come to because he was tired of watching footie matches in a bland hotel room. And Liam will probably die too, because he's not the sort to let that go, and then they'll both be dead and it will be all Louis's fault.
The guy takes one step toward him, and Louis tries to brace himself.
And then the guy goes flying off to the side, bouncing off a table and crumbling to the floor. Paul's standing there, looking epically pissed as he takes in the damage. Then he takes in Louis, standing there with chair in hand, and he breaks face, sighs. "Oh for fuck's sake. Just... put that down. Get Mike Tyson here and get in the car."
Louis grabs Liam, and drags him out the door, despite the protestations of "He started it, Paul, he said... well, he was being rude and-" that Liam is shouting as they go.
Once they're in the safety of the towncar, with all the doors locked and the black-out partition up, Louis lets out a shaky breath. This is going to be a shitstorm. It's going to be on twitter, and Sugarscape, and if they're very unlucky, YouTube. Or oh, god, what if the guy presses charges and they have to go to court? He looks over at Liam in a panic, but. "Oh, my god, Li, you're bleeding."
"S'what happens when someone clocks you in the face, generally," Liam sniffles, and swipes at his nose, smearing the trickle of blood there.
Louis tsks him, waving his hands away, and grabbing at the box of tissue in the console. "Here, let me."
And he carefully wipes the blood off Liam's face and hands, trying to keep his movements gentle and wincing with Liam when he obviously fails. "Sorry, sorry."
"It's okay," Liam says quietly, and he looks down at his hands, the knuckles of his right hand swelling and red. "I hit someone."
"You did." Louis agrees, and he looks around for something to help with the swelling. There's not a minibar in this car, but the driver's put a small cooler in the back with a few beverages and it's filled with ice. He looks around for a towel or something to put it in, but there's nothing. So he whips off his t-shirt, kneeling on the floorboard while he uses it to make an icepack.
"I had a fight." Liam says the words like he's trying them out. "In a pub."
"You did," Louis says again, but this time he can't help but smile. "A proper sick one, mate. All the lads will be so gutted they missed it."
Liam gives a little chuckle, and looks pretty pleased with himself. The skin beneath his eye is starting to darken, and he's going to have a hell of a shiner come the morning, Louis thinks.
"Hurts way more without the gloves, though," Liam remarks, looking down at his hand as Louis puts the ice on it.
"It would, wouldn't it?" And he remembers once, when they were backstage somewhere and he'd been goofing around and smashed his finger on something, Liam had kissed it better. So he moves the ice, picks Liam's hand up gently, and bends his head to press dry lips to the first knuckle.
"My hero," He says it with a slight smile, the twist of his lips to let Liam take it as a joke if he wants to, but Louis means it. Liam's gone quiet, eyes dark in the shadowed interior of the car. Louis doesn't know how to decipher that look, or thinks he must be wrong about it, because it looks like heat and want and... well, like nothing he ever thought he'd see on Liam's face. He's not sure, he doesn't know, but he takes a chance and dips his head again, kissing each knuckle, each forming bruise, softly. His voice is a little shakier than he'd like when he looks up after the last one and says, "There, all better."
"You-" Liam's voice breaks too, raspy and deep, and it sends a shiver down Louis's spine. "You missed a spot."
Louis just stares up at him for a second, gobsmacked, and then Liam taps his cheek, under his hurt eye and oh. Louis can do that, and he rises up on his knees, between Liam's sprawled thighs, and leans in to give the bruise there the same delicate treatment.
Liam's eyes flutter shut, and Louis can feel the brush of his lashes against his skin. He presses on, butterfly kisses across Liam's cheek, his hands sliding to the outside of Liam's thighs to keep his balance. Liam's eyes are still closed as Louis starts to pull back, and Louis can't resist, just a quick kiss, chaste and sweet. Liam opens his eyes, and Louis smiles at him. "Thank you. For standing up for me."
"Someone had to," Liam's eyes don't meet his, still focused lower, focused on... Louis's mouth, he realizes with a jolt, and Liam's voice shakes a bit when he says, "No one should say such awful things to you, you're... you're lovely."
And his eyes flick up to meet Louis's at that, like Louis might be angry, like Louis could be angry at that. Louis cups his jaw, on the uninjured side, and rubs his thumb there, just to make sure, to give them both a second to change their minds, and then he's leaning in.
The second kiss is not chaste, not sweet; it's strong, and sure, and hungry, Liam's arms encircling him, pulling him closer, holding him tightly as they taste each other. He slides his hand up, threading his fingers into Liam's hair and tugging to change the angle of their kiss. Liam rocks against him, shuddering involuntarily, and Louis can feel how hard he is, pressed up against his stomach. Hard like he's been hard for a while, from the adrenaline, from the touching. Louis reaches down, cupping Liam through the denim and pressing firmly.
Liam bites down on Louis's lip. "Fu-fuck."
Louis kisses him again, harder, and for a moment, it's just that, Liam rocking against his hand while Louis licks and bites his way into Liam's mouth. But Louis wants more, wants to give more, and he moves his hand off, swallowing the protests from Liam at the loss of contact, and reaches up to flick open the top button of Liam's trousers. He starts to tug them down, and Liam lifts up to help, and there's a time and place for taking things slow and this is not it. Paul could come out at any moment, they don't have time for the niceties. He yanks trousers and pants in one go, and then it's just. Liam.
He bends down, pulling Liam's cock into his mouth and running his tongue in a circle around the head a couple of times, before going for it and swallowing him down as far as he can in one go. Liam gasps, and Louis can feel the clench of his abs as he rubs his fingers up Liam's sides. He pulls off, sucking hard, until Liam's cock slides free of his lips with an audible, wet pop.
He grins up, and takes Liam's hand and pulls it to the back of his own head. Liam threads his fingers through Louis's hair, but he doesn't pull, just holds on, steady. Louis swallows him down again, fast and dirty, bobbing his head up and down as he strokes Liam in time. He just wants to keep making Liam make those breathy little noises, to feel him shake apart underneath him.
"Lou. Louis," Liam moans, growls really, and now Louis's the one shuddering as he swallows around Liam. Louis milks him through it, lapping at the head until Liam tugs at his hair.
Louis leans his head against Liam's knee, panting for air as he stares up at Liam, hugging his naked skin against Liam's denim-clad leg. Liam looks wrecked, his face flushed and bruised, lips kiss-swollen, all the tension and fight melted out of him. He reaches out, sliding a hand gently down Louis's cheek, the brush of his thumb mimicking Louis's touch from earlier, and Louis leans into it, tilts his head to kiss Liam's palm, and Liam smiles and he smiles back.