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The house is a bloody mess when Louis gets home. There are string lights draped over every available surface, baubles scattered haphazardly over the kitchen table, and enough tinsel to sink a small ship spilling out of a cardboard box near the stairs. Louis follows the path of destruction up the stairs while he shrugs off his coat, pulling the beanie off his head and letting his hair fall free.
He finds Harry in their bedroom, wearing nothing but a jumper, a pair of grey checkered boxers, and a pair of half calf wool socks. He’s on his back with his feet propped up on the headboard, crossed at the ankles. He’s playing with the little wisps of hair by his ear while he chats on the phone, and Louis leans against the door frame, out of sight, just to watch him for a few minutes.
“Mum will be thrilled,” he muses, smiling up at the ceiling. He must be talking to Gemma, Louis thinks. “Yeah. Well, you know how she is.”
Louis toes off his shoes next to the dresser and creeps over to the bed. Harry startles a bit when Louis lays down beside him, but immediately reaches out with his free hand to pull him into his side. This close, Louis can hear Gemma’s voice through the speaker of Harry’s phone.
“It’ll be fine, I think,” she’s saying. “You brought Louis your second Christmas together, this is just the same,” she says.
Louis perks up at the mention of his name, but Harry just scratches at his head a bit to settle him. “Yeah, but mum loves Louis more than even I do.”
“Mum likes Michal!” Gemma argues. “She follows him on Instagram, doesn’t she?"
“Is that how we show our affection these days?” Harry chuckles, glancing down at Louis. Louis sticks his tongue out at him, and Harry kisses it quickly.
“Shut up,” Gemma mutters, “not all of us have perfect relationships like you, dickhead.”
“Hey,” Louis interjects, ignoring Harry when he tugs his hair a bit in retribution. “Don’t talk to my boy like that.”
“Oh, god, he’s here,” Gemma whines. “Well, that’s definitely my queue to go. Bye, losers.”
“Bye, Gems, love you,” Harry laughs, but Gemma hangs up on him.
Louis takes the phone out of Harry’s hand and tosses it to the end of the bed, rolling over on top of Harry. Harry’s hands find his hips and Louis positions his elbows on either side of Harry’s head, hovering over him.
“So,” Louis hums, peering down at him. Harry already seems to know what he’s going to say, cheeks pinking slightly. “Care to explain why it looks like Christmas took a shit all over our house?”
“It’s December!” Harry exclaims, digging his fingers into Louis’s hips. “Christmastime!”
Louis blinks at him, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s November,” he tells him.
“Is it?” Harry hums, feigning ignorance. “Well, looks like we’ve got a head start, then,” he grins.
“I hate you,” Louis tells him, leaning down a bit to bite at his chin. “What were you and Gemma talking about?”
“She’s bringing her boyfriend home for Christmas this year,” he explains, shivering when Louis buries his face into his neck, still cold from the wind outside. “And since this the first year in a while we’ll both be home for Christmas, mum’s gonna have a lot of extra cooking to do, because we’ll both be bringing our lovely boyfriends,” he says.
Louis frowns, picking his head up to look at him. “I thought we were going to mine for Christmas this year?”
Harry freezes up a little, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “Oh, well, um, yeah… I was just, like- I was thinking, like, since Gemma’s gonna be home this year and like, we’re home, maybe we could go to mine? Gems and I haven’t been free at the same time during Christmas for years,” he reasons.
“But Haz, my mum’s expecting us,” Louis says, trying not to whine. “We went to yours last year.”
“But Lou,” Harry actually whines, “I really want to go to mine so we can all finally be together. Please, we can go to yours for the next five years in a row,” he pleads.
Louis sits up, straddling Harry’s thighs. His jumper has ridden up a bit and Louis rests his cold hands on his exposed skin, sliding them up under the soft knit.
“You’re sad,” Harry notices, placing his hand over his jumper where Louis’s hands are hidden under it. “Lou-”
“No, it’s fine,” Louis assures, giving him a tight smile. “Just, let me think about it?”
“Course,” Harry smiles, sitting up to kiss him. “I mean, if you really don’t want-”
Louis cuts him off with another kiss, shaking his head. “It’s fine. It’s just my birthday. And my favorite holiday. And I haven’t seen the girls in weeks, but it’s fine. It’s fine,” he mutters, climbing off Harry and then off of the bed.
Harry knows better than to follow him when he gets like this, so when Louis heads down to the basement, he’s alone. He plops down on the sofa and pulls a blanket over his legs, flipping aimlessly through the channels on the telly while he thinks.
Maybe he’s being selfish. Of course Harry would want to go to his mum’s for the holidays this year, he hardly gets to see his family either, and it has been a while since he and Gemma have been able to spend Christmas like they used to. But his birthday is no fun while he’s at Harry’s, because while he loves Harry’s family to death and he knows they feel the same about him, it just isn’t as nice. He wants to see his mum the day he turns 25, he wants to wake up in his own house and spend the day being showered in attention by his own family. It’s not fair that Louis’s plans have to be compromised just because Gemma’s home. It’s not fair.
He spends some time moping by himself, scrolling through Instagram and watching a few football videos. It’s a few hours before he hears the door to the basement open, and Harry pads down the stairs.
Louis doesn’t look up from his phone until Harry sits down beside him on the couch, looking anxious. He’s cross legged sitting sideways to face him, and when Louis looks up, Harry gives him a tiny smile.
“Hi,” he says, quietly. “Are you still upset?”
“Not upset,” Louis assures.
“Then what?” Harry sighs, slouching a bit. “I know you’re not pleased, just tell me how you’re feeling?”
Louis falls silent for a moment, looking down at Harry’s lap. He’s put on a pair of sweats, and there’s a tiny hole in the seam along his inner thigh.
“I don’t know, I just,” Louis shrugs, eyes down. “I’ve just been looking forward to spending Christmas at my mum’s. I’m being selfish,” he says, shrugging his shoulders again.
“You’re not being selfish,” Harry gushes, inching forward and grabbing Louis’s hand. “You’re not being selfish. I know you wanna go to your mum’s, and I know it’s important to you, but this is important to me too.”
Louis nods, staring at Harry’s hand for a moment. He knows that if he opens his mouth again he’s going to say something he doesn’t mean, so he settles for pulling his hand away from Harry as gently as possibly and picking up his phone again.
“Lou,” Harry says, but Louis ignores him. “Louis.”
“What, Harry? It’s fine, you wanna go to your mum’s. I’ll just miss another magical holiday with the twins, and I guess I can just call my mum on my birthday. Wouldn’t be the first thing I’ve given up for you, why the fuck not, right?”
There it is, he thinks, the thing he doesn’t mean. He pushes the blanket off his lap and gets up, walking over to the fridge in the corner that he keeps stocked with beer. He grabs a bottle and takes a long sip before he turns back around.
Harry looks absolutely ruined, twisting his fingers together in his lap. It’s not fair, what Louis just said to him, and they both know it, but Harry will take it to heart. He always does, when Louis says things out of frustration.
Louis makes his way back to the couch and sets his beer down on the coffee table, dragging Harry into a hug. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“No, but you’re right,” Harry says, pulling back. “You do- you do so much for me, god, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Shut up, Harry,” Louis laughs, dragging him back in. Harry cuddles into his side, and Louis kisses his head warmly. “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry mutters, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Louis says. He has no idea how they’ll figure this one out, because both of them are so stupidly stubborn, but he has no doubt that they will.
“I went for Nando’s,” Harry says, glancing up at him. “It’s upstairs.”
“Shit, why didn’t you open with that?” Louis grins, pushing him away. “Let’s go!”
Harry laughs and follows him up the stairs, bringing with him Louis’s beer that he forgot about. “I do love you, you know?” Harry says, kissing his lips before letting Louis take the bottle.
“I know,” Louis grins, rolling his eyes. “Likewise,” he adds as an afterthought, peeking into the takeaway bags on the kitchen table. Harry got him his favorite meal, and it’s still warm.
Yeah, he does love him quite a bit.
-
They don’t talk about it again for a couple of days. It’s not until the end of the year, anyways, so there’s no use fighting about it with every moment of their free time.
It’s not a big deal, anyway. Louis’s almost positive that Harry’s going to come around in time, and it’ll be fine. He has his whole life to spend Christmases with Gemma, anyway. Louis only has a few years to spend the important ones with the youngest set of twins. He’s terrified of them growing up without him around, and Harry knows that. He’ll come around.
Louis just talked to his mum earlier, and he told her about the whole situation, because he tells her everything. She didn’t have any spectacular advice, though, nothing life changing. She suggested they sit down and have a long talk about it to hopefully come to a conclusion, but if there’s one thing Louis hates, it’s long talks, so he’s avoiding that like the plague.
Harry is out right now, but he’ll be home soon, and Louis has a plan. It’s not incredibly well thought out or creative, but it’s worked time and time again with other disagreements, so there’s no reason it shouldn’t work now.
Louis’s in the kitchen when Harry comes home, and he smirks when he hears him setting down all his shopping bags by the door. He slinks over while Harry hangs his jacket up, peeking into one of the bags.
“Oi!” Harry shouts suddenly, and Louis flinches away. “What if that was your Christmas present?”
“Is it?” Louis asked excitedly, lunging for the bag again. Harry rolls his eyes and pulls it away from him, pushing him gently away from the bags.
“No, you dick,” Harry mutters. “I’m not getting you any presents this year.”
Louis pouts, pushing the bag out of Harry’s hands and pressing himself up against his chest. “Why not?”
“Because you’re horrible,” Harry says, but it’s weak. Louis’s plan is already working.
“What if I let you open your present now? Then will you get me one?”
Harry narrows his eyes at him. “It’s the third of December, no way you already got me something.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Harold,” Louis hums, smirking. “What do you say? Want a hint?”
Harry still looks curious, so Louis grabs his hand. Harry’s expression doesn’t change until Louis places Harry’s hand over his own crotch, and Harry bursts out laughing.
“That was, without a doubt, the worst thing you’ve ever pulled,” Harry giggles, pulling his hand away from Louis’s crotch.
“Best thing you’ve ever pulled, though,” Louis grins, backing Harry against the door and pressing himself into his thigh. “What do you say? Wanna go upstairs?”
“I just walked in the door!” Harry cries, but Louis’s winning, he can feel it in his heart. And against his hip.
“So?” Louis hums, kissing at Harry’s neck. “Is there a grace period I’m not aware of?”
“Lou,” Harry chokes, as Louis sucks a deep mark into his neck. “Louis.”
“Yeah, moan for me,” Louis breathes, grinding against Harry’s thigh.
“What has gotten into you?” Harry rasps, grabbing at Louis’s hips and pushing him off, holding him at an arm’s length. “What were you up to while I was out?”
“Always want you,” Louis says, struggling against Harry’s hold. Harry won’t let him close again, though, so Louis whines. “Please!”
Harry still looks confused, but he loosens his grip and allows Louis to crash back into his body. Louis kisses him so hard Harry’s head hits the door, but neither of them really notice. Harry moans quietly into his mouth and Louis can’t help but smirk, sticking his hand right down the front of Harry’s jeans.
“Louis!” Harry gasps, breaking away from the kiss. “Fuck, slow down, wait-”
“Don’t wanna wait,” Louis pants, fingers finding Harry’s dick and wrapping around it. “Wanna go upstairs. Now.”
“Lou,” Harry says again, like he’s trying to calm him down a bit. Louis doesn’t want to calm down, though, so he bites into Harry’s neck, hard.
Harry screams, actually screams, and bucks his hips against Louis’s. Louis licks over the bite mark and looks up, seeing that Harry’s eyes are black and glassy. “Upstairs,” he says again.
“Upstairs,” Harry agrees, his voice already shaking. He grabs Louis by the wrist and drags him toward the stairs, and Louis grins the whole way there.
Louis kicks the door closed and shakes Harry off his wrist, pulling at his shirt. “Off,” he demands, tugging his own clothes off while Harry quickly strips.
“Seriously,” Harry says, a bit out of breath. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Aren’t I allowed to be horny for my boyfriend when he comes home?” Louis asks innocently. “You know, most guys wouldn’t question it. Maybe I should-”
Harry cuts him off with a bruising kiss, holding him by the back of his neck and forcing him to kiss back. If Louis didn’t have an endgame, he might let Harry have this, might let Harry take control and wreck him the way they both know only he can. As it is, though, Louis has a goal, and he’s not going to fuck it up.
He breaks away from the kiss with some effort, Harry reluctant to let him go. He looks hungry, wild for it, and it makes Louis shiver. “On the bed,” he demands.
Harry all but throws himself onto the bed, flipping over onto his back and watching Louis carefully. Louis walks to the bedside table and retrieves their bottle of lube, still new and mostly full, and then climbs up onto the bed.
“Arms up,” Louis says, spreading Harry’s legs and settling himself between them. “And keep them there. If you touch, I’ll stop.”
Harry reaches up and holds onto the headboard, keeping his eyes locked on Louis. It almost hurts, how much Louis loves him.
“Good. Don’t come until I say so,” he says, waiting for Harry to nod. With that he ducks down, sucking half of Harry’s cock into his mouth in one go.
Harry cries out, but keeps his hands where they are. “Louis,” he whines, arching his back a bit as Louis bobs his head.
Louis holds his hips down and sucks as hard as he can, giving the best blowjob he’s capable of. Harry seems to approve, moaning and writhing and kicking his legs, but he doesn’t move his arms, and Louis is so proud of him.
He works like that for a few minutes before he goes for more, sinking down a bit further. Harry moans long and low as Louis allows him to slide right into his throat, swallowing around him.
“Louis, oh my god,” he pants, biceps straining when Louis glances up at him. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”
“No you’re not,” Louis says, pulling off and stroking him slowly, just enough to keep him on edge. “Don’t, Harry.”
“Won’t, won’t,” Harry assures. “Please.”
Louis gives him a smile and goes back in, sucking hard on the head of his cock. Harry’s trying very hard to keep himself together, Louis can tell, but he’s not doing a very good job.
“Louis, please, please let me-”
“No,” Louis smirks, pulling off again. Harry’s cock is so hard it looks painful, and he wails when Louis blows gently over his spit slick head.
Louis reaches for the lube, slicking up three fingers and pressing one into Harry’s hole without any warning. Harry makes a strangled little noise and his arms shake where he’s still holding onto the headboard, his dick throbbing when Louis gets his mouth back on him.
He works slowly, stretching him easily with his fingers and sucking the life out of his cock. Harry’s breathing is labored and rough and every time Louis gets close to his prostate his hips twitch a little, but Louis is a pro at this by now, pins his hips down with his free hand and runs the edges of his teeth over the head of Harry’s cock warningly.
“Fucking hell, Louis, your mouth,” Harry wheezes. If he doesn’t calm down, Louis’s going to have to get his inhaler for him. “Please, need to come, want-”
“Are you going to come?” Louis demands, pulling off of his cock. He presses his fingers into Harry’s prostate and rubs tiny, hard little circles, making Harry’s whole body quiver.
“Yes, god-”
“Are you going to come, Harry?” Louis asks again, firmer this time, giving him a look when Harry glances up at him.
Harry catches on quickly, sobbing just a bit. “Not until you say,” he whimpers pitifully. If Louis wasn’t so stubborn, he might let him have it now.
“Good boy,” he smiles, petting at Harry’s hip and pulling his fingers out of his hole. “Now let go of the headboard and turn over for me.”
Harry nearly kicks him in the face in his haste to do as Louis asked, sitting up and rolling over onto his front. He goes to put a pillow under his hips but Louis stops him, pushing his knees under his torso so he’s forced to hold his arse in the air, face on the pillow.
“What are you gonna- ah!” He cuts off with a yelp when Louis smacks his arse, digging his nails into the stinging flesh.
“No talking. The only time I want to hear you speak is if you’re going to come, understand?”
“Yes,” Harry sobs, fisting the material of the pillow under his head and bowing his back a bit, presenting his arse to Louis nicely.
Louis smirks and slaps him again, watching his firm little bum jiggle. He gets up on his knees after a moment and slicks himself up, teasing Harry with the head of his cock for longer than he probably should.
Harry doesn’t say anything, though he whines incessantly into the pillow. Louis slaps him one more time before he presses in, Harry’s high whining cutting off into a low, deep moan.
Louis fucks him brutally, finding his prostate within seconds and slamming into it over and over. Harry’s an absolute mess, wailing and crying, and Louis can tell by the way his hips are starting to move on their own that he’s getting close.
“Are you close, Harry?” he asks, looking over Harry’s shoulder at his face. He looks pained, eyes squeezed shut.
“I, Louis-”
“When were you going to tell me?” Louis demands, reaching down to wrap his hand around the base of Harry’s cock. Harry shrieks when Louis squeezes to keep him from coming, fucking him a little faster. “Hm?”
“Need to, please,” Harry sobs, rubbing his face into the pillow. Louis slows his hips to a stop, letting Harry’s orgasm fade away from him.
“You can do it, love,” Louis assures him, stroking his cock slowly. “Can’t you?”
“Can,” Harry gushes, turning his head to look back at him. “Can.”
“There’s my boy,” Louis hums, rocking his hips slowly. He works back up to his brutal pace from before, stroking Harry’s cock fast and hard at the same time, and it’s only a few minutes until Harry’s back on the edge.
“Gonna come, need to come,” he sobs, “Louis, please.”
“Shh,” Louis soothes, thrusting in deep and grinding his hips in the way he knows drives Harry mad. “Just one more thing for me, love, okay?”
“Anything, what,” Harry chokes, peeking one eye open to look back at Louis when he drapes himself over his back, getting close to his face.
“You can come,” he says, eyes twinkling, “if we can go to my mum’s for Christmas.”
“Louis!” Harry barks, but he’s wrecked, Louis has him right where he wants him.
“Have it your way, H, but I swear to god I’ll pull out right now and leave you like this,” he threatens jovially.
“Fine!” Harry grunts, pushing his hips back into Louis’s. “We can go to yours. Now please, please let me-”
Louis grabs him by the hair and shoves his face into the pillow, grinning when Harry screams. It takes two more thrusts before Harry comes all over the bed, his body quaking and screaming seemingly without his permission.
Louis pulls out and jerks himself a few times, coming all over Harry’s arse and back. Harry melts into the mattress when Louis gets up to get a towel, and doesn’t move until Louis has cleaned him all up and climbs into bed beside him.
“Did you mean it?” Louis asks, letting Harry drape his long, lanky body all over him.
“Mean what?” Harry mumbles, dazed and sated.
“That we could go to mine for Christmas,” Louis says, scratching his head sweetly.
“Nope,” Harry grins, licking Louis’s chest affectionately.
“You’re a fucking dickhead,” Louis spits, shoving him off his chest.
“Louis,” Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back down when Louis tries to get up. “Babe.”
“No, I hate you,” Louis mutters, trying and failing to get away. Damn Harry and his stupid strength.
“No, you love me,” Harry hums, pulling Louis’s squirming body into a forced cuddle, playing big spoon.
“You’re an ass,” Louis argues, trying to get his foot up high enough to kick Harry in the balls. Harry shifts and digs his fingers into Louis’s side, conquering him with a tickle attack.
“Harry!” He shrieks, trying even harder to squirm away. Harry has him laughing, though, the absolute bitch, and Louis knows from experience that he won’t stop until Louis has forgotten about what he was even upset about.
“Tell me you love me,” Harry demands, rolling on top of Louis and burying his fingers in his armpits. Louis clamps his arms down and howls, trying to buck Harry off.
“Get off me!” He gasps, but Harry just lays a little heavier on him and tickles him mercilessly.
“Tell me you love me,” Harry repeats, freeing one hand from Louis’s armpit and going for his neck.
“I love you!” Louis screams, voice distorted by the way he contorts his neck. “I love you, I love you, you fucking bitch.”
Harry giggles softly, finally relenting. He lays down right on top of Louis, nuzzling into his neck and tangling their legs. “I love you too,” he hums. Louis can hear the smile in his voice.
Louis sighs, wrapping his arms around Harry because he has no other choice. “You really are a dick, you know,” he mutters.
“You’re the one who tried to manipulate me with sex, and I’m the dick?” Harry laughs.
“Yes,” Louis grunts, pinching Harry’s hip.
“Okay, shhh, nap time now,” Harry whispers, pressing his nose into Louis’s throat.
“Can’t sleep with my fucking oaf of a terrible boyfriend on top of me,” Louis complains, wriggling uselessly. Harry reaches up to cover his mouth with one hand, effectively silencing him.
Louis could lick him, or bite him, and if he wanted to, he could definitely get out from under him. All he has the energy to do at the moment, though, is close his eyes, and he drifts off to sleep quickly.
-
As the month goes on and Christmas grows nearer, their fights get a bit more serious.
It’s about the middle of the month when Louis comes home drunk, having taken a night out a bit too far. Harry never minds, not really, just has him brush his teeth and then tucks him into bed. Louis has a bone to pick with him tonight, though.
Harry’s still up, reading in bed when Louis stumbles in. He looks amused watching Louis kick off his shoes, until Louis straightens up and glares at him.
“Have a good night?” Harry asks, folding the corner of his page and putting the book down.
“You listen here, Styles,” Louis spits, taking a few steps closer to the bed. Harry sits up a bit, watching him carefully. Louis is stupid when he’s drunk, unpredictable, and he’s never done anything too bad but Harry knows to be cautious. “I’m not going to your mum’s.”
“Lou,” Harry sighs, rolling his eyes. “Let’s not talk about this right-”
“Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me!” Louis bellows, clumsily taking his jacket off and throwing it on the floor. “Listen, it’s not fair. I’ve been looking forward to Christmas at mine all bloody year, why do Gemma’s plans get to mess up mine? We’re supposed to go to my house this year, and I’m not going to debate it any further,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Harry’s annoyed, Louis can tell. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s not doing a good job. “Look, why don’t you go brush your teeth and come to bed and we can talk about this in the morning.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it in the morning!” Louis shouts, sounding more like a child than an adult. “I wanna talk about it now! Why does Gemma get to ruin my birthday?”
“Louis, this isn’t Gemma’s fault,” Harry says defensively, crossing his arms. “Do not blame her. If you’re gonna be angry, be angry at me. She didn’t mean for this to happen, or for you to be a baby about it.”
“I will be angry at you,” Louis spits. “I am angry at you. Christmas has fucking sucked every year since before X-Factor and this is the first Christmas that had the potential to not suck, and now you’re just making it suck anyway,” he says.
“You’re being ridiculous, Louis. It’s not like going to my mum’s is a horrible time, is it?” Harry asks. “You always have fun. And you know you’ll have fun this time. You can see the twins the very next day, if you want, and give them all the presents in the world and it’ll be just like the real thing.”
“But it’s not the real thing!” Louis complains, actually stomping his foot. “Why are you making this so hard? Why can’t we just do it the way we planned?”
“Because that’s not what I want to do,” Harry says, exasperated. “Listen, you’re drunk, and there’s no way we’re going to be able to have a rational discussion about this. We can talk in the morning.”
“You’re being a dick!” Louis yells. “Why do you always have-” his stomach turns mid sentence, and he lurches forward. Worry flashes in Harry’s eyes but it’s gone in a second, and Louis turns abruptly to run to the bathroom.
Harry usually comes and rubs his back when Louis’s sick, but this time he leaves Louis to it. Louis heaves over the toilet for a long few minutes, tears wetting his cheeks, until finally his stomach settles and he leans back against the bathtub.
He’s angry and sad and his head is spinning as he struggles to his feet so he can brush his teeth, holding onto the sink. He doesn’t flush the toilet, knowing that Harry will be up first in the morning and be the one to have to deal with it. That’s a good punishment for this, he thinks.
He strips down to his boxers in the bathroom and stumbles back to bed, falling in beside Harry just as the other boy turns out the lights. Louis reaches over to cuddle without even thinking, but Harry slaps him away.
“Don’t touch me,” he grits out, turning his back to Louis and settling down. Oh, Louis thinks, he might have fucked up.
He turns over and curls up, cold even under all the covers. The alcohol knocks him out quickly, though, and he sleeps like a rock.
-
Harry isn’t in bed when Louis wakes up.
On a normal morning, Harry wakes up hours before him, but he’s usually still there when Louis rolls over. Today, though, the bed is cold, and Harry didn’t bother to tuck the extra blankets around him when he got up like he usually does.
Louis pulls on a pair of joggers and stumbles down the stairs, head pounding. Harry doesn’t look up from his phone as Louis heads for the medicine cabinet, even when Louis sits down at the kitchen table across from him.
“I’m not speaking to you right now,” Harry tells him, getting up and walking away. Louis wracks his brain, trying to think of what he did last night, but all he can remember is being terribly angry and he doesn’t really recall why.
Harry heads for the living room couch, so Louis makes a bowl of cereal and takes it to the basement. The basement is Louis’s place, it’s where he goes when he doesn’t want to be seen or talk to anyone, or when Harry doesn’t want to look at or talk to him.
He turns on some old cartoon and bundles under a blanket, because they don’t keep the heat on down here and it’s absolutely freezing. As he munches on his cereal he slowly begins to recall what happened last night, how he screamed at Harry and made him feel like shit for what really isn’t his fault.
His stomach is still growling when he finishes his cereal but he feels too guilty to go back upstairs, so he curls up on his side on the couch and counts the hours until Harry will come find him so they can talk.
When Harry’s upset enough at Louis to ignore him, he doesn’t like to be approached before he’s ready. He’ll come talk to Louis when he cools down, but if Louis shows his face before then, it won’t be pretty.
He makes it until just after noon, and by then he’s so hungry it hurts. He takes his cereal bowl upstairs to the kitchen to put it away, and he finds Harry by the fridge when he walks in.
Harry acts as if he’s not even there, so Louis just sets about making himself a cheese toastie without a word. It occurs to him, as he’s gathering the bread and cheese, that maybe this could be a peace offering.
“Want a cheese toastie, Haz?” he asks sweetly, trying to meet his eyes.
Harry just shakes his head, glancing at him before leaving the room empty handed. Louis can’t remember what he said last night that pissed him off this much, but he feels like absolute shit.
He takes his sandwich back to the basement when it’s finished, tail between his legs. He feels like a child in a time out, and he fucking hates it.
It takes another hour for Harry to finally come find him, and Louis switches off the telly immediately and turns his body to give him his full attention when he sits down on the sofa. Harry doesn’t say anything for a long few minutes, and Louis’s stomach twists.
“Haz-”
“Don’t,” Harry cuts him, but he doesn’t sound angry, not really. “Just- don’t, for a sec, yeah?”
“Course,” Louis nods, settling back against the sofa and staring at his knees. Finally Harry sniffs loudly and shakes his head, glancing over at him.
“Did you mean it, what you said last night?” he asks. It sounds like he’s in pain, like he isn’t sure if he wants the answer.
“Haz, I don’t even really-”
“That I’m ruining your birthday. That Gemma is ruining your birthday, and your Christmas. That Christmas has sucked for years and this Christmas is going to suck too because of me.”
Louis’s jaw drops, and he shakes his head slowly. “No, Haz, I didn’t mean that. Fuck, I didn’t mean that. Yeah, I’m extremely fucking disappointed that I won’t get to spend my two favorite days of the year with my own family, but…” he trails off, shaking his head.
Harry sniffles, and Louis’s heart plummets when he realizes that Harry is trying very, very hard not to cry. “I feel horrible. I feel so fucking bad, Louis, I cried myself to sleep last night because I hate the fact that I’ve fucked up your holiday. But I don’t know what to do because I love you to death and I want you to be happy but I really, really want to go home for Christmas, and I know that you’re not going to be happy with that but-”
“Harry, love,” Louis soothes, reaching out to pull him into his arms. Harry goes easily, whimpering quietly into his chest. “Hey, stop. You don’t need to be so upset about it, love, I’m gonna be happy wherever we end up going, I promise,” he says.
“But you want to go to your mum’s house,” Harry argues, leaning heavily against him. “I know you’ll still be happy at mine, but it’s not what you want. God, why can’t we figure this out?”
Louis smiles, holding him a little tighter. “Because we’re both stubborn as hell, and we both love our families to death,” he shrugs.
“What if we do Christmas Eve at yours, and Christmas Day at mine? Then you get to spend your birthday with your family, and I get to spend Christmas with Gems,” Harry says.
“It’s over an hour between the houses, Haz, and we’re not gonna want to drive that long on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day,” Louis sighs.
“True. What are we gonna do, then?” Harry frowns, looking up at him.
“We’ll figure it out, babe,” Louis assures, giving him a little smile. He doesn’t know when they’re going to figure it out, time is kind of running out, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll work it out.
-
There’s three days until Christmas Eve, and they still haven’t worked it out. Louis’s starting to get worried, because they’re both still set on going to their own house, and the only way this is going to end at this point is a blowout fight. Harry’s annoyed more often than he isn’t lately, and Louis’s just about the same. They’ve been at each other’s throats for the past week, and if it doesn’t come to a head today, Louis doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Wherever they end up going, they have to leave tomorrow afternoon, and it’s not going to be good if they’re still fighting about it then.
Harry seems to know it as well, because he keeps doing little things to butter Louis up. He made Louis’s favorite pancakes this morning for breakfast and then ran a bath for the both of them, and after a pretty rambunctious round of shower sex, made him an extravagant lunch. Louis’s been careful not to fall for any of his traps, because Harry’s good, and if Louis lets his guard down for even a second Harry will win this.
They boil over during dinner, eating Louis’s favorite pizza on the couch in the living room. Harry usually doesn’t let him eat here, but today seems to be an exception.
“So,” he says finally, moving the pizza box to the coffee table and glancing over at Louis. “Uh, we haven’t decided what we’re gonna do about Christmas,” he says.
Louis purses his lips, throwing his uneaten crust into the box. “Haz, I really wanna go to mine.”
Harry sighs in frustration, running his hand through his hair and messing up the already messy strands. “I know you do, but please, please let me spend the holiday with my sister. I miss her so much, Lou, I never get to see her,” he says, looking devastated.
“I know, Harry, I do. But I just… I wanna spend this with the twins so badly. I feel like I’m missing their lives, and Christmas is so important, especially to me. I wish you could understand how much it hurts my heart when I get pictures of them and they look completely different from the last time I saw them. It hurts so much, Harry, I need this,” he pleads.
Normally, when Harry is frustrated or angry, he gets scarily quiet, almost like he’s sad. This time, though, he takes a page from Louis’s book and explodes.
“That’s bullshit, Louis. You could go home anytime you like, you could see them whenever, but you’re too busy out partying and sleeping and being a dick. They’re growing up without you because they don’t know you, Louis, because you’re not there. It doesn’t matter, just give up,” he spits. He regrets it immediately, Louis can tell, but the words have already done their damage.
Before Louis even knows what’s happening he’s storming away, tears already dripping down his cheeks. Harry runs after him but Louis doesn’t even flinch when Harry grabs his arm, tugging it away and storming up to their bedroom.
“Louis, I didn’t mean that, I swear,” Harry gushes, whimpering when Louis slams the door in his face. “I’m so sorry, Louis, I’m so sorry. Please, let me in, let me apologize.”
“Go to hell!” Louis screams, hurling Harry’s pillow at the door. He wipes angrily at his face and flops down on the bed, curling up with his face pressed into his own pillow and trying to force himself to calm down.
Harry gives up after a long few minutes, and Louis can hear him trudge back down the stairs. Part of him hopes he trips and breaks his stupid neck, but a bigger part of him wants him to come back and hold him and make him feel better.
He’s right, though, is the thing. Maybe Louis should be spending more of his free time at home, watching the twins grow up. Maybe this is his fault, maybe he is to blame. Suddenly he feels ridiculous, like Harry’s been right the whole time. The twins don’t even really know him, it’s true, they wouldn’t bat an eye at his absence on Christmas morning.
He spares a moment for the rest of his family, who would almost all definitely miss him. He hopes they don’t think the same thing as Harry, that all Louis does is party and sleep and waste time.
He has himself a good long cry about it, until eventually he dozes off. He’s still in his clothes, on top of the covers, and when he wakes up his neck is stiff and it’s about two in the morning.
Harry clearly hasn’t tried to break into the room; he must be in one of the guest rooms. Louis rolls out of bed and creeps down the hallway, looking into both of the guest rooms to find them made up and dark.
He walks slowly and silently down the stairs, expecting to find Harry asleep on the couch. He frowns when the couch is empty, as well, peeking into the kitchen.
The door to the basement is cracked open, so Louis peeks his head through and listens for a moment. The tv is on but the lights are off, and when Louis crouches down on the third step from the top, he can see Harry sleeping on the couch, curled up in Louis’s favorite blanket.
Louis doesn’t let himself feel fond, shaking his head as he walks back up to the kitchen. He thinks briefly about locking the door from the outside, but he only entertains the thought for a moment before hating himself for it. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge on his way back to the stairs, taking a small sip to wet his stale mouth.
He changes into his pajamas when he gets back to the bedroom, brushing his teeth in the bathroom and then climbing back into bed. He curls up on his own side and tries to go back to sleep, trying to will away the heavy feeling still weighing on his heart from Harry’s words.
He falls asleep eventually, cold and lonely and a little bit heartbroken.
-
He opens a group text with Liam and Niall before he even gets out of bed the following morning, snuggled up in his duvet and feeling a bit like he needs a vacation from his own head.
Louis: morning assholes who wants to get day drunk today :)
Liam: not meee!
Niall: got a plane t catch tonight , but my house is free until then !
Niall: and no day drinking , but ‘ve got fifa and crisps !
Louis sighs in relief, thankful for the immediate responses. He drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower and typing out another text before he gets in.
Louis: be there in thirty minutes !! :D
Liam: is harry coming too??
Louis: harry who
Liam: oh no
Louis leaves it at that, stripping out of his pajamas and jumping into the shower. His eyes hurt a bit when he washes his face under the warm water, and he hopes they’ll be less puffy by the time he gets to Niall’s. He doesn’t know yet if he wants to talk to them about this, but since Liam asked about Harry, he thinks it might come up.
He already feels better when he gets out of the shower, wrapping himself up in a towel and heading to the bedroom to get dressed. He goes for a worn pair of black skinny jeans and a grey band shirt, towelling off his hair and leaving it to dry on it’s own.
He braces himself before he goes downstairs, finding Harry in the kitchen cooking what appears to be a full english in nothing but his pants.
“Hi,” Harry says, watching Louis carefully while he grabs a granola bar from the pantry. “Good morning.”
Louis doesn’t say a word, leaving the kitchen without even looking in Harry’s direction. Harry follows him, and Louis can almost hear him frowning when Louis bends over to put his shoes on.
“Lou, can we talk?” he asks, stepping between Louis and the door quickly.
“No,” Louis says simply, grabbing a beanie and a coat out of the closet.
“Where are you going?” Harry asks nervously.
“Out,” Louis says, his back to Harry as he pulls on the coat.
“With who?” Harry asks.
“No one,” Louis mutters. He feels like he’s being interrogated by his mum, for crying out loud.
“Lou, I’d really like if we could talk about what I said last night, I know you’re upset but-”
Louis pushes past him without a word, tugging the beanie down over his wet hair as he slips outside.
“Louis!” Harry calls, stepping out onto the front stoop but not following Louis down the stairs, as it’s all covered in snow and he’s barefoot. “Louis!”
“Eat shit, Harry!” Louis calls back jovially, getting into his car and slamming the door a little harder than is probably necessary.
Harry looks gutted when Louis finally glances up at him. Good.
-
“So,” Niall sighs, plopping down next to Louis on his sofa. Despite Niall’s no day drinking rule, Louis’s on his second beer and it’s only about one in the afternoon. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Louis lies, taking a long sip from his bottle. “Can’t a guy just hang out with his best mates before Christmas?”
Niall and Liam share a look, and then Liam sits down on his other side. “Where’s Harry, then?”
Louis purses his lips and looks down, playing with the label on his beer bottle. “Choking on his own fat tongue, hopefully.”
Liam and Niall sigh in unison, and Louis feels the floodgates open.
“I just,” he grits out, leaning forward to slam his bottle down on the coffee table. “I’m so fucking mad at him. We’ve been fighting all month about where we’re gonna go for Christmas, because Gemma’s home so he wants to go to his house, but I wanna spend the holidays with my family because the kids are all growing up so fast, and it was my turn anyway, but whatever.” He leans back into the couch, pretending he doesn’t see the looks Liam and Niall are giving each other. “But then last night we were talking calmly and rationally about it and all of a sudden he just-” he cuts off with an unexpected hiccup, and the other boys tense.
“What?” Niall asks gently, while Louis works on swallowing the lump in his throat. “Louis, what did he do?”
“He told me I was acting like a baby, and that the twins don’t miss me because they don’t even know me, and that that’s my own fault because I spend too much time partying and not enough time visiting them. And he said it’s pointless to even want to go home, because it won’t mean anything to them,” he says quietly, wringing his hands in his lap.
“What the fuck?” Niall spits, while Liam reaches out to hug him.
“What a dick move,” Liam sighs, letting Louis cuddle into his chest.
“Yeah, so,” Louis breathes, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to do now.”
“Not that it’s your fault, but this is the stupidest fight ever,” Liam tells him.
Niall hums in agreement. “Yeah, and not to defend what he did, but Harry probably feels like shit right now.”
“Yeah,” Liam butts in. “Maybe you should just let him win, like, just so you can have a peaceful holiday, and I bet he’ll jump through hoops for months to make it up to you.”
“That’s manipulative and horrible, Liam Payne,” Louis mutters, sitting up and giving him a little smile. “I like it.”
“Good,” Liam grins, ruffling Louis’s hair. “Sorry about not getting your way, though. That’s shitty,” he frowns.
“Yeah,” Niall pulls him the opposite way for a hug. “But I think Liam’s right about just ending the fight. I hate when you two fight, it’s worse than my parents fighting,” he mutters.
“Oh, shut up,” Louis laughs, pulling away.
He feels a bit better now that he knows what to do, even if it’s what he probably should have done the whole time. Besides, maybe Harry will be so torn up by the time he gets home he’ll just let Louis win, and he’ll get what he wants after all.
Niall pulls him out of his head by pushing a bag of crisps into his hands, while Liam finally turns on the telly. Louis ends up having the best afternoon he’s had in awhile, and he’s hardly upset anymore by the time he heads home.
-
Harry’s loitering in the living room when Louis gets home, dressed in a pair of loose track bottoms and a jumper. Louis takes a few minutes to gather his thoughts while he hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes, but when he finally opens his mouth to tell Harry his decision, Harry beats him to it.
“I told my mum we’re coming to hers.”
Louis’s jaw drops, staring at Harry’s hard set face. Harry just crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look stern, but Louis can see that he’s nervous.
“What?”
“We couldn’t make a decision, so I just made one. We’re going to my house.”
Louis blinks at him, shock etched into every one of his features. Yeah, like, he was going to let Harry win anyway, but the fact that Harry just did it, just went ahead and made a decision for them both, especially after what he did the night before…
Louis could cry.
He steps forward instead, shoving Harry as hard as he can. Harry stumbles backwards but stays upright, so Louis pushes him again. “Fuck you,” he spits, feeling sickly satisfied when Harry trips a little over the couch.
He storms up to their room, slamming the door behind himself and locking it. He’s so angry he wants to scream, so he does, slamming himself down onto the bed. He wants to break something, namely Harry’s neck, but he settles for hurling his pillow across the room instead.
He’s bone crushingly sad, suddenly, and he changes into a pair of sweats and crawls under the covers. He buries himself under the duvet and rubs at his face, willing himself to stay calm. Not only does he now have to call his mum and tell her they’re actually not coming tomorrow, but he has to suffer through his birthday and Christmas at Harry’s house while he wants to wring Harry’s neck.
He dozes in and out of consciousness while he hides, napping on and off for a few hours. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when the door handle starts jiggling, swinging open a moment later.
Harry kept all his bobby pins from when he had long hair, of course he’s able to pick the locks. Louis should have pushed the dresser in front of the door.
“Hey,” Harry says, his weight making the foot of the bed dip. “You in there?”
“I could literally strangle you right now,” Louis says, voice muffled by the duvet. “So I suggest you leave before I get the chance.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry says, sounding quite sincere. “I’m so fucking sorry, Louis. I didn’t even think about it until after I did it. I was so angry when you left this morning, I think I did it just to spite you. I can’t call and tell her differently now, though, she’ll be heartbroken.”
And, like, Louis gets it, in a way. It sounds like something rash and stupid that he would do, he can’t really blame Harry. He’s still got a sour look on his face when he peeks out from under the duvet, finding Harry sitting at the end of the bed with a tray on his lap.
“I brought some hot chocolate,” he offers, handing over a mug when Louis sits up. Louis takes it and sips at it carefully, doing his best not to tense up when Harry moves to sit next to him. “Are you mad at me?” Harry whispers. He hates when Louis gets mad. Louis’s pissed.
“Yes,” he mutters, staring down at his hot chocolate. “But, like, it’s fine, I guess. It’ll be fine. I was with Niall and Liam earlier and they told me I should just let you win, so I was gonna come home and tell you I was fine with going to your mum’s, but, you know,” he shrugs. “I’m hurt that you just did it anyway. And you can call my mum later and tell her why we’re not coming,” he says.
“Anything,” Harry says. Louis can see him staring at him hopefully out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll do whatever you want to make up for this. I’m sorry you won’t get to spend your birthday at home,” he says sadly.
Louis wonders just how sad he really is, taking another sip of hot chocolate in lieu of answering. Harry reaches for him and Louis worms away, ignoring the dejected look on Harry’s face.
“I just don’t really wanna talk right now,” he says, putting his mug down on the bedside table and getting up. “Sorry.”
Harry looks down as Louis leaves the room, heading for the basement. Harry knows better than to come after him at this point, and Louis just really, really wants to be alone.
He stays downstairs until he can hardly keep his eyes open, finally trudging back up to the bedroom. Harry’s just getting ready for bed when he gets there, and he looks at Louis nervously.
“Do you want me to sleep downstairs again?” he asks carefully, watching Louis strip down to his pants.
“No,” Louis mumbles, walking over and tucking himself into Harry’s arms. Yes, he’s mad at him, but he’s making himself miserable, and Harry is the only person Louis knows that can bring him out of it.
Harry holds him tight, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you,” he hums, rubbing his palm down Louis’s spine.
“I know,” Louis breathes, nuzzling into his chest. “Can we go to sleep?”
“Course,” Harry smiles, sidestepping toward the bed and prying Louis off his body so they can climb in.
Louis cuddles right back up to him once they're under the covers, lights off. Harry holds him tight, like if he lets go Louis might disappear. “I'm still mad at you,” he clarifies, eyes closed.
“I'm mad at me too,” Harry admits. “Let's just sleep, yeah? Gonna have a long car ride tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Louis mutters, pressing his nose into Harry’s collarbone. It doesn't take long after that, his mind finally giving him a break as he slips off to sleep.
-
Louis wakes up alone the next morning, but the bed beside him is still warm, so Harry can’t have been gone long. With any luck he’s remaking that full English from yesterday, because Louis is starving and he regrets walking out on that.
Harry creeps back into the room about fifteen minutes later, smiling slightly when he sees that Louis’s awake. “Hey,” he hums, walking over to the bed. “I made breakfast, if you wanna come eat?”
Louis nods, pushing the covers down and rolling out of bed. “Is it another full english?” he asks hopefully.
“No,” Harry winces. “I used that all up yesterday, and ended up having to toss half of it, thanks to you,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it.
“Well, you have made me cry twice in the last two days, so, I think you can deal with a little lost food,” Louis mutters, following Harry down the stairs.
Harry stops at the bottom, tugging Louis into his arms. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says, sounding achingly remorseful.
“I know,” Louis chuckles quietly, pulling away. “Just forget about it,” he hums.
Harry watches him for another moment before he turns around, leading Louis to the kitchen and letting him sit. “I made french toast and bacon,” he says, making a plate for Louis and setting it down in front of him.
“Even better than a full english,” Louis grins, picking up the fork and knife Harry provided him with and digging in. Harry ruffles his hair gently before he gets his own plate, sitting down across from Louis at the table.
“So,” Harry starts, looking awkward. “Are you still mad?”
Louis sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not happy, but, I don’t know. I don’t want to be mad at you on Christmas, or on my birthday, so I guess not. If you ever pull this shit again, though,” Louis gives him a firm look, “I don’t know that I’ll be able to put up with it.”
Harry looks vaguely terrified, reaching across the table to hold Louis’s hand hesitantly. “This will never, ever happen again. That I can promise you,” he says sincerely. “I never want to see you cry ever again, especially if I’m the one that caused it.”
Louis smiles, squeezing his hand a bit. “Well, I’d hope so.”
Harry grins, squeezing his hand tight before letting go. “Alright, then, eat up. We’ve a long ride to Holmes Chapel,” he hums.
Louis nods, trying not to let his heart sink. Harry must notice because he kicks Louis gently under the table, and Louis smiles around his french toast.
-
They throw the bags Harry packed for them into the trunk of Harry’s car, making sure they have all of their presents wrapped and ready. Harry’s driving as part of his streak of good deeds, and Louis’s pretty happy about it because it means he gets to sleep on the way there.
Harry does most of the talking since Louis’s feeling uncharacteristically quiet, staring sadly at the sign as they get on the highway towards Holmes Chapel.
He’s being silly; they’ll see his family for New Years, as that’s usually how it goes. He already misses his mum, though, wants one of her warm mum hugs and her special birthday dinners. He pulls his legs up under him on the seat and puts his head down, watching out the window while he listens to Harry talk.
“I bought Gemma the best gift,” he’s saying, rambling on and on about the book he found online and the museum tickets he got through a friend. Louis lets his eyes slip closed, and within minutes, he’s out like a light.
He sleeps for the next three and a half hours, and when he wakes up, he’s alone in the car. They must already be at Harry’s mum’s, and Harry graciously left the car running for Louis to sleep. He rubs at his eyes while he reaches over to turn the car off, stuffing the keys in his pocket and stepping out of the car. He doesn’t notice until he’s at the walkway that they’re not at Harry’s house.
Excitement bubbles in his chest and he runs for the door, bursting in to find everyone chatting in the sitting room. His mum perks up when she sees him, getting up to give him a hug.
“What is going on?” he laughs, pulling away and looking over at Harry, who is sandwiched between Lottie and Gemma on the couch. Louis’s couch, in his own house. They’re at Louis’s house, after all.
“Surprise?” Harry grins, just as the youngest set of twins come barrelling over to give Louis hugs and kisses. Louis drops on his arse on the floor and pulls one of them, Doris, into his arms, peppering kisses all over her little face.
“Lou!” She screeches, breaking out of Louis’s hold and running off after her brother.
Louis giggles as he stands up, turning to watch them both disappear around the corner. He throws his arms up as he whirls back around, not realizing that Harry is leaning in to kiss his cheek at the same time. Louis punches him straight in the nose, both of them gasping in unison.
“Shit, sorry, sorry,” Louis laughs, as Harry holds his nose. “Sorry, are you okay?”
“Was that my punishment for stressing you out so much the past few days?” Harry jokes, but he looks like he’s genuinely in pain. “Am I bleeding?”
He pulls his hand away to let Louis look at his nose, and Louis’s smile falls away when he sees that Harry actually is bleeding. “Oh, bollocks,” he breathes, mindful of the children in the room. “Here, come to the bathroom.”
He takes Harry’s hand and leads him to the bathroom, unable to keep the smile off his face even as Harry sits up on the counter, blood dripping down his face.
“Did you put this all together?” he asks, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and mopping at Harry’s face.
“Yes,” Harry blushes, taking the tissue from Louis and cleaning himself up a bit more gently. “I did it yesterday, while you were out being angry at me. I called my mum to cry to her right after you left and I told her everything and she suggested that we all just celebrate together, so I called your mum to set it up since she has the bigger house, and it all worked out, luckily,” he explains.
Louis grins, pressing himself into Harry’s chest. “I love you,” he mumbles, holding him tight. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Harry hums, running a hand through his hair and twisting around to check his nose in the mirror. It’s hardly bleeding now, but Harry gets a fresh tissue to hold against it anyway. “I’m sorry I made you so angry. I thought this would be more fun as a surprise, so I told you we were going to my house, but I just made you sad for a whole two days,” he pouts.
“It’s worth it,” Louis chuckles, wetting another tissue to clean up the last little bit of blood left around Harry’s nostril when he pulls the tissue away. “Is your nose okay? Broken, you think?”
“I don’t think so,” Harry giggles, leaning forward to peck Louis’s lips. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“I’m happy you’re glad,” Louis muses. “Now let’s go back out there, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been aching to see my mum for about a month now.”
They spend the evening in the living room, eating Chinese out of cartons and sharing stories. This is a better way to spend the holidays than Louis ever imagined, even if the lead up was a bit horrible.
There are only enough guest rooms in the house for Harry’s mum and stepdad to have one and his sister to have the other, so the boys are stuck on the futon in the den, with the light of the Christmas tree twinkling over them.
Louis’s on top of Harry as soon as everyone else has gone to bed, positioning himself over Harry’s lap and kissing him hard. Harry goes along with it until Louis starts rutting against him, and Harry pulls away laughing.
“Lou,” he chuckles, pushing Louis back by his chest.
“What?” Louis whines, grinding down against Harry a little harder. Harry tries to hide it, but Louis hears his breath catch.
“We can’t fuck in your mum’s living room,” Harry pants, keeping his voice low.
“Why not?” Louis breathes, frowning as he rocks his hips in slow, tantalizing circles. “Sure we can, as long as you’re quiet.”
“Louis,” Harry scolds, but he doesn’t pull away when Louis kisses him again. Louis takes it as an invitation to stick his tongue down his throat, and Harry whimpers.
“Was thinking,” Louis hums, climbing off of Harry’s lap and shucking off his joggers, leaving his jumper on. “I wanna thank you for setting all this up. So,” he grins, getting the lube from Harry’s travel bag and settling back down on his lap, “sit back and relax, yeah?”
Harry has heard that line before, knows exactly what it means. He leans back against the pillows up against the wall and keeps his hands off Louis’s body, because he knows better than to touch right now.
Louis slicks up his own fingers and reaches behind himself, flicking the hem of his jumper out of the way and finding his hole. He hums softly as he toys with himself, eyes locked on Harry’s.
“How’s it feel, love?” Harry asks him, settling his hands on the bottom of Louis’s thighs, just above his knees, safe territory.
“Good,” Louis breathes, dropping his head back as he pushes the first finger inside. “Really good,” he moans quietly.
“Yeah?” Harry inquires, wanting more. He loves when Louis talks dirty, Louis knows, but that’s not what this is about right now.
“Yeah,” he confirms. “Remember what I said about being quiet?”
Harry chuckles quietly, jostling Louis a bit as he shimmies his own trousers down under his balls. “Sorry. You’re not letting me feel, I thought you could at least let me know what it’s like,” he muses.
“Eat a dick, Styles,” Louis breathes, shaking his head fondly, two fingers deep in his own arse.
“Only if it’s yours, Tomlinson,” Harry fires back.
Louis laughs quietly, straightening up and then leaning forward to kiss Harry’s lips. He moans quietly against them just for show, and Harry’s fingers twitch on his thighs. He adds his third finger and breathes out hard into Harry’s mouth, grinding down a little on his own hand.
Harry pulls back, and even with his eyes closed Louis can tell he’s looking at him. He bites his lip and bounces on his fingers, a whimper of delight getting caught in his throat.
“C’mon,” Harry complains, sliding his hands up Louis’s thighs. “Hurry, I’m so hard.”
“We’re having a moment, Harry,” Louis grunts, peeking an eye open to glare at him. “Don’t be greedy. This is a gift, don’t take it for granted.”
Harry falls silent, but Louis sees him roll his eyes. Louis works himself open until his own cock is dripping all over the place, and Harry’s squirming is getting relentless.
Louis finally removes his fingers and reaches for the lube, only to find that Harry’s moved it. When he looks down, he finds Harry’s hand moving steadily over his own cock, already lubed up and ready.
“You’re the worst,” Louis chuckles, snatching the lube out of Harry’s hand and pouring a little more into his palm, knocking Harry’s hand out of the way to get his cock good and slippery.
Harry drops his head back against the wall as Louis sinks down on him, biting his lip to keep quiet. Louis leans in and kisses him again, working himself up and down in tiny increments until Harry’s buried deep inside of him.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry pants, breaking away from the kiss. “You just fingered yourself for about four hours, how are you still this tight?”
Louis giggles softly, biting at Harry’s nose, and then at his earlobe. “Shut up, and focus. I’m gonna ride you nice and slow, just like this, until I’m too tired to carry on. Then you’re gonna take over, when we’re both good and worked up, and you’re gonna make us come, yeah?” he hums, licking at the shell of Harry’s ear, smiling when Harry shivers.
“Yeah,” he croaks, grasping tightly at Louis’s hips.
Louis smiles and sits up a bit, focusing on the movement of his hips. He wants to drive Harry wild, wants to work him up until his thighs give out, and by then Harry will be so crazed with it that it won’t take long at all. He counts quietly in his head, giving himself four seconds for every rock of his hips.
They’re both dripping sweat within minutes. Louis is still in a heavy knit jumper, and Harry’s in a cozy long sleeve t-shirt with his joggers still around his thighs. Louis’s legs are already shaking a little from the exertion but he doesn’t plan to stop any time soon, not until the hairs in Harry’s silly little quiff are plastered to his forehead and his lips are raw from biting at them.
Louis lasts for the better part of an hour, he guesses, until finally the burning in his thighs becomes too much and he collapses forward on Harry’s chest. He sobs quietly into Harry’s neck when Harry’s hips buck reflexively, his fingers pressing hard into Louis’s hips.
“Please, can I?” Harry pants, voice strained and rough. Louis nods quickly, getting a hand between their torsos and wrapping it around his cock.
Harry manhandles him a bit, gets a better grip on his hips and fucks up quickly, hips snapping so fast the futon creaks under them. Louis bites down on Harry’s shoulder to muffle a scream, Harry’s cock pounding into his prostate with every harsh thrust.
“Now, now, now,” Louis whimpers, pressing his whole face into Harry’s collarbone as he comes. It hits him like a brick wall, crashing over him so magnificently he loses track of everything but the feeling of Harry fucking in one, two, three more times before coming hot and wet inside him.
Louis’s entire body turns to jello, dead weight on top of Harry. Harry pets at his back under his jumper, fingertips running up and down Louis’s spine as a pleasant soreness settles over his body.
“Love you,” Harry breathes, kissing at the side of Louis’s sweaty neck. Louis grunts in what he hopes Harry takes as a love you too, and continues taking inventory of his tired body.
Harry lifts him up after a few minutes, pulling out and carefully helping him onto his back on the cool side of the futon. He grabs a few tissues and cleans up Louis’s come from under his jumper, splattered all over his belly. They managed to only get a little on his jumper, but it’s nothing that won’t come out in the wash.
Harry strips out of his own clothes and pulls on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, nothing underneath. He helps Louis on with a pair of boxers and opts to leave the jumper on, probably because Louis is already mostly asleep.
When Harry finally settles down next to him, pulling the blankets up and over their exhausted bodies, Louis rolls over into his side. “Past midnight,” Harry whispers, carding Louis’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”
Louis grins sleepily, humming happily as Harry’s arms wrap around him. “Birthday, baby,” he whispers nonsensically, tucking his face into Harry’s shoulder. Harry laughs into his hair, and Louis falls asleep smiling.
-
Christmas morning is every bit as magical as Louis hoped it would be.
They went out to dinner for Louis’s birthday, a buffet style selection of every option on the menu in a function room of the nicest restaurant Harry could find online. They came home early so the kids could get to bed, while the adults and Louis’s oldest younger sisters sat around getting the rest of the presents ready and toasting to Louis’s twenty-fifth year.
Harry was exhausted by the time they finally called it a night, worn out from dancing around the function room with the kids all night after dinner. Louis stayed awake just to watch him sleep, propped up on his elbow and playing with Harry’s hair until the sun was nearly back up.
Naturally, Louis was the last to wake this morning, when the kids came barrelling down the stairs and looking for presents. Louis stayed under his blanket on the futon watching it all happen, even when Harry got up to help Ernest open the gift he and Louis got him.
It isn’t until Harry comes back to the futon with him and hands him a present that he sits up, leaning into his side. Harry kisses his head and Louis smiles, turning to look up at him.
“You didn’t have to get me a present,” he hums. “You managed to bring both our families together for Christmas, what more can I ask for?”
“It’s not much,” Harry promises, nudging him. “Go on, open it. Where’s my gift?”
“Under the tree,” Louis grins, nodding to it. “Beside Fizzy.”
Harry gets up to grab it, and Louis gets to work tearing the paper off his own gift. Harry plops back down beside him just as he gets to the box, letting the paper flutter to the floor. He lifts the top of the box and lets Harry pull him back into his side, digging through the paper to find the soft material of a shirt underneath.
He grins as he pulls it out, lifting it up to get a good look. It’s a Rovers jersey, with Louis’s name and the number 28 on the back. Harry nudges him and Louis digs through the box again, pulling out another jersey, exactly the same but in a bigger size.
“Why are there two?” he asks, glancing over at Harry.
“Well, actually, this one’s for me,” Harry says, stealing the bigger one out of his hands. “So we can match.”
Louis’s stomach fills with butterflies and he can help but laugh, drawing the attention of everyone still gathered around the tree. Louis pulls the jersey on over his head and grins as Harry does the same, his smile not faltering even as everyone starts groaning and gagging.
“You two are ridiculous,” Jay chuckles.
“I can’t believe I gave birth to such a cheeseball,” Anne shakes her head.
Louis giggles as he leans into Harry’s side again, hugging him around the waist. “Thanks, Hazza,” he hums. “Now open yours.”
Harry takes his arm from around Louis’s shoulders and reaches for the small box he left in his lap, carefully peeling the flap away and unfolding the paper. Louis rolls his eyes but waits patiently as Harry removes the small jewelry box, cracking it open to peek inside.
“Oh, Louis,” he coos, looking over at him. “Thank you.”
“What is it?” Gemma calls from across the room, seemingly as invested in Harry’s reaction as Louis is.
Harry pulls out the ring, two thin silver bands looped through each other to form a knot. It’s Gucci, which Louis knows is Harry’s favorite.
Harry slips it on his middle finger happily, leaning over to kiss Louis’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers again.
“You’re welcome,” Louis chirps happily, cuddling up to his side. It seems the gift giving is mostly over by now, everyone settling down and the kids off playing with their new toys and gadgets.
“Oh, I have one more thing for you,” Harry says, looking over at Louis.
“Harry,” Louis whines, tipping his head back and glaring at him. “You agreed you’d only get me one thing this year!”
“But the jersey was for your birthday,” Harry argues, getting up to rifle through his bag. “This one is for Christmas. It’s a good one,” he assures.
Louis rolls his eyes and waits patiently, and Harry comes back a moment later with an envelope. Louis takes it with a frown, opening it up and peering inside.
“Ah, yes, thank you for the index card, Harold,” he hums, pulling out the little white card.
“No,” Harry laughs, shaking his head, “read it.”
Louis takes a moment to read the card, frowning at the name of his tattooist in London. “You got me a business card from my tattooist?” he asks.
Harry sighs like Louis has bestowed the greatest burden on him, reaching over and flipping the card over in Louis’s hand. Louis frowns at the little sketch on the back, until finally it dawns on him.
“There we go,” Harry mutters, as a grin splits over Louis’s face.
Louis just about tackles him over, laughing into his neck. “Yeah?” he hums, pulling back to look at his face.
“Yeah,” Harry hums, pecking his lips quickly.
“Alright, then,” Louis grins, pulling back completely. “I’m finally getting the lighthouse.”
“Oh, gross,” Gemma groans, but Louis ignores her, Harry’s lips pressing firmly against his own. Everyone’s whining for them to stop, but Louis just kisses Harry a little harder, still clutching the card in his hand.
Eventually they all migrate to the dining room where Jay and Harry serve breakfast together, and Louis chats about footie with Gemma’s boyfriend across the table. It’s a perfect Christmas, exactly what Louis had hoped for, and he couldn’t be happier. Harry settles down beside him when they all finally have stacks of pancakes in front of them, and as they dig in, Louis realizes that nothing could be as magical as this.