Work Text:
“You know you’ve never looked good in maroon,” Louis lied, slowly recrossing his legs as Harry twirled in front of him. Clad only in an oversized jumper Louis had bought and forgot almost two years ago and a tight pair of black Armani pants, the man was a walking wet dream.
“You know you’ve always been a shit liar,” Harry shot back sweetly, granting Louis a cheeky wink before pulling a pair of jeans on. “But if you insist. It’s not like it’s my birthday or anything.” It was his birthday, but it was also crucial to Louis’ plan that he not be sporting a semi throughout the night’s festivities. Harry pulled the jumper over his head and tossed it aside, walking over to straddle Louis in the worn brown armchair they had bought together almost four years ago. Harry had been shorter than Louis, had curled into the protective arm around him as Louis bartered for a lower price on the piece of junk. It was the first piece of their forever, the first tangible promise of a lifetime together that Louis had given him. It was only fitting that they keep it in their first house.
“Mm, the longer you dick around the longer it’ll be until we go out, you know.”
Harry pouted and ran his hands through Louis’ hair, loosely locking his arms around Louis’ neck.
“Baaaaaaby c’mon. It’s my birthday. You haven’t touched me all day.”
“Bold fucking lie there, Harold. The kitchen counter begs to differ,” Louis said with a small smile, leaning forward and quickly pecking Harry’s lips. “I wanna go out. You already said we couldn’t have a party here, or a party anywhere, so at least let me get you drunk.”
“Will you take advantage of me?”
“Absolutely.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
An hour later saw Louis in all black: jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket, leaning against a bar in a smoky club surrounded by five thousand of their closest friends. Harry was having the time of his life; Louis watched him over the rim of his watered down Jack and coke, watched him flailing his arms in an erratic dance that had everyone in a fit of giggles. A few of the more hopeful girls flailed along with him, their eyes catching on the tattooed ferns peeking out above the waistband of his jeans every time his shirt lifted in time with his jumps.
The jeans specifically were why Louis was keeping his distance. Black and skin tight, ripped from just below the upper thigh all the way down to below his knee caps in precise slits that had Louis clenching his fist from the moment Harry had walked down the stairs.
“I went with a black shirt, see babe? We match,” he had said sweetly. He had indeed, a sheer black number that was a repeat buy after Louis had shredded the first one in what Harry would later fondly refer to as “a sex induced bull-like rage.”
“You look great,” Louis had said, looking at the floor, then the ceiling, then Harry’s scuffed black boots. He hadn’t planned on taking cigarettes with him that night but somehow a pack had ended up in his pocket. In case of emergencies.
It was now that Louis began feeling the weight of the box in his back right pocket, his hand automatically sliding around to trace the shape of it. He was wondering if Harry would notice him sneaking out when a sweaty arm slid around his waist and a large hand grabbed his drink.
“Mate this is sick, I can’t believe he wouldn’t let you do a proper rager this year but this is still better than my party was,” Liam said quickly, downing the rest of Louis’ drink and setting it behind them. His arm tightened around Louis’ waist in a quick hug. His party had been a small affair on a night cruise, but it had still been a night Louis would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.
“Yeah let’s not talk about that,” he laughed, nudging Liam’s side. “I’ve never puked up so much rum in my entire life. Not even at Leeds.”
“Right I forget how differently two people can remember things.” Liam turned around and leaned over the counter, grabbing two bottles of beer from a tub of ice and handing one to Louis. “I’m out though, being dragged home by my ear,” he said with a wink, pulling the cap of his beer off with his teeth and spitting it behind the bar. He clapped Louis on the back and was gone as fast as he had come.
Louis popped the cap of his drink off using the underside of the bar, because he was a proper gentleman and terrified of chipping a tooth, taking a long sip before surveying the crowd again. Harry had disappeared, as expected, but Louis wasn’t too bothered. It had taken him a few years to finally get it into his head that no matter what, Harry went home with him. Let the girls think they have a chance for an hour or two, Harry would only remember one name in his post orgasm haze. The thought put a small smirk on Louis’ face. He leaned back against the bar and took another sip of his drink.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Did you see me on the bar, baby?” Harry asked again, his words slurring as he tightened his grip on Louis’ hand.
“I did, love. You kept yelling ‘Louis look at my sexy mating dance,’ how could I miss it?”
Harry chuckled. “It must have worked cause you’re taking me home,” he winked. He pulled Louis outside and took a quick turn into a familiar alley. He leaned back against the brick wall and tilted his head back, breathing slowly. “Thank you for not throwing me an actual party this year. I know how much you wanted to.
Louis couldn’t help but to admire him; his breath fogging in the chilly February air, his skin glowing porcelain underneath the clear light of the full moon. He took a step forward and pressed his lips to the silky skin, skin tingling as he felt Harry’s shaky exhale beside his ear.
“You’re welcome baby,” he whispered against Harry’s skin.
“You do know we’re back here for a reason,” Harry said casually, sliding his arms around Louis’ waist.
“Oh? Here I was thinking you had me out here to maybe enjoy the full moon, or get murdered,” Louis matched his tone, lips sliding down Harry’s neck. He bit down right above Harry’s collarbone, his hands finally touching the promised lands of the ripped jeans. “I can’t fucking believe you wore these,” he said, roughly gripping above each of Harry’s knees. He slowly slid his hands up, fingers catching on the tears.
“Can’t fucking believe you barely looked at me all night when you knew I wore them for you,” Harry hissed, his own hands sliding down to Louis’ bum.
“Admit you love getting me off in public,” Louis said, pushing his hands up underneath Harry’s shirt. He dragged his nails up Harry’s sides.
“Admit you hate it,” Harry shot back, shivering under the touch and pulling Louis closer.
“Just fucking kiss me.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second sheer black shirt shared the same fate as the first, lying near buttonless on the floor of their living room. Harry surveyed it with a pout.
“You know I actually really liked that one,” he said, leaning over the back of the couch to look at Louis.
“I did too,” Louis frowned, finishing stirring sugar into Harry’s tea and lifting both of the teacups. “Guess we have some shopping to do.” He carefully walked to Harry, handing him one before sitting down beside him and blowing the steam away from his own.
“Maybe you should work on your self control,” Harry suggested. “I hear yoga -”
“I hear you going to bed alone,” Louis smiled sweetly, taking a sip of his tea before setting it down on the glass coffee table. Their second purchase together. He grabbed Harry’s cup and set it down beside his own.
“You know I really love you, right? I love that you wear ripped jeans for me, that you let me ruin your birthday by not throwing you a party, that you let me put too much sugar in your tea, that you let me pick a glass coffee table when we both know you were attached to that piece of shit bamboo one.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Louis with a small smile. “I do those things because I love you. More than anyone has ever loved anybody.”
“Okay, Edward Cullen.”
Harry pinched Louis’ arm. “That makes you Bella Swan.”
“Maybe let’s not,” Louis said with a chuckle, leaning his head onto Harry’s shoulder. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry’s stubbly cheek as the birthday boy’s eyes began closing. A red blanket was kept on top of the couch for emergencies such as this, and Louis didn’t hesitate to grab it and spread it over the two of them.
“Maybe let’s,” Harry mumbled.
“Happy birthday sleepy baby,” Louis replied, flicking off the light beside him and closing his eyes. He slumped down and propped his feet up on the table he had pouted a half hour for. “Here’s to a million more together.”