• 6.4 ~ If You Wanna Try Me On
He gives Zayn his shoe size, and then sticks the phone in his pocket so he can’t read Perrie’s scorn, or Niall’s bragging.
“Yep,” he says. “He’s been off the wall about going to Paris.”
“Ah.” Zayn looks almost apologetic, for some odd reason, before he stops in front of a rack of shoes. “So. Heel or no heel?” Harry would like to answer that question. He really would. Mostly he’s a bit distracted by all the shoes. He’s tempted to take Zayn out at the knees and make off with all of the boots in Perrie’s size, if only to get his phone to stop buzzing.
“Well?” Zayn looks almost amused when Harry turns to look at him.
“Um,” he starts to say, when Zayn’s phone goes off, the generic iPhone text tone jarring in the relative silence of the closet. Zayn glances down at it, cheeks immediately flushing and eye twinkling, and Harry narrows his eyes.
“What was that?” he says. Zayn pockets the phone and steps well out of Harry’s reach in one smooth move.
“No one important,” he says, equally smoothly. “Now come on, Haz. We haven’t got all day.” Harry narrows his eyes even further, but dutifully picks out a pair of shoes, accidentally knocking one of the display boots off the shelf.
“Woops,” he says, not sorry at all, and glances at Zayn’s phone when he bends to pick it up. It’s lit up with a message from Boo, which Harry tries not to read too much into.
He’s in the middle of arguing quietly with one of the designers for one of the opinion pieces when the other shoe drops, to make a horrible pun. Louis comes striding past him on his way to lunch, on the phone laughing.
“Oh fuck off, Zayn,” he’s saying. “What, did you expect candles?” He meets Harry’s eyes briefly, smiling all crinkly like, before adding, “and stop calling me that, only my mum calls me that.” He laughs. “Right, okay, so I should be glad that you’ve at least dropped the ‘bear’ bit off because Boo is that much better” And then he’s out of the office, taking Harry’s sunlight and general will to live with him. Suddenly the small hoard of clothing he’s got stashed in Zayn’s office isn’t all that exciting. Liam looks almost apologetic from where he’s been memorizing the guest list for Paris.
“Harry?” says the designer, into the phone, and Harry swallows the lump in his throat. Professional. Harry is a professional. He just has to get through today, and he can go home and have Niall call Greg James and then he never has to see Louis or Zayn again. Somehow, that almost seems worse.
Niall finds him the next morning, wandering into Harry’s bedroom and then into Harry’s loo with his toothbrush in his hand and one hand down his boxers. He gets all the way through brushing his teeth and spitting into Harry’s sink, before he realises that Harry hasn’t left for work yet, and is instead sat in the middle of the floor staring morosely at the new clothes he’d gotten from Zayn. There’s the sound of choking from the loo, before his flatmate emerges, sans toothbrush, to stare at him.
“Um,” says Niall. “Harry?” Harry sighs, and reaches up to finish molding his hair flat to his skull.
“Hello, Niall,” he says sadly. “Why are you using my loo?” Niall continues blinking.
“Mate?” he says. “It’s sort of, all of ours?” Harry tilts his head to the side.
“Right,” he agrees. “Sorry.” He finishes with the pomade and chucks the stuff across the room. Niall comes to stand in front of him and nudges the pile of clothes with his toe.
“So this is it, then?” he says. “Shouldn’t you be hanging this stuff up, or something?” Harry blinks up at him.
“I should, shouldn’t I?” he agrees. Niall’s lips purse.
“So, why aren’t you?” he says. Harry looks down at the floor.
“Niall,” he says, again. “Louis is dating Zayn.” There’s a beat.
“Come again?” Niall seems honestly curious when Harry lifts his head.
“Zayn,” he repeats. “Dating Louis. He’s got him in his phone as Boo.” There’s another beat.
“You,” says Niall, shaking his head. “Are you, do you still want me to call Greg James?” Harry lets out a long breath.
“I suppose,” he says. “I’d really rather not have to face Louis or Zayn for the rest of my life, to be honest.” He glances back up, and Niall looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Oh God, you are serious,” he says. Harry frowns, hurt.
“No, wait, Haz.” Niall is a bit red in the face now, and it’s really not funny at all. In fact, Harry’s entire life is over, because while he’s definitely got his dream job in the journalism world, he’ll never get to be a Tomlinson-Styles. Obviously, Niall is an awful flatmate and best mate. “Haz, H, come on, Harry!” Harry glares at him, but doesn’t move from his spot on the floor.
“H, I’m dating Zayn,” Niall gets out, before finally succumbing to the laughter. Harry lets that sink in.
“Yeah.” Niall swipes at the corners of his eyes, still giggling a little, and sinks down on the floor next to Harry. “And Louis is in his phone as ‘Louis the Tommo Tomlinson. All one name. Like-”
“Did you text Zayn the other day?” Harry interrupts a bit desperately. “After lunch time, maybe?” Niall pauses.
“Erm, yeah? Why?” Niall’s brow furrows. “Oh, he didn’t,” he says. “He’s really got me in his phone as ‘Boo’?” Harry lets that sink in as well.
“Yeah,” he manages. This, changes everything.
“That arse,” says Niall, amused. “And here I was being a gentleman and putting him in mine with just his name.” He gets to his feet, still laughing a little, and comes back into the room a few minutes later with his phone. “Come here and help me pick an emoji,” he tells Harry.
They spend the next few minutes giggling about the various options, before Niall ends up picking both the heart and the poop emoji, because Niall is a awful person and Harry loves him dearly.
“That’ll teach him,” Niall says, screencapping the screen and texting it to Zayn. Harry grins back at him, before it occurs to him that Louis isn’t dating Zayn. Something of that must show on his face, because Niall looks concerned.
“Harry, you alright?”
“Niall,” Harry interrupts, scrambling to his feet and reaching up to bat at his hair. It’s gross and sticky and not going to do anything to help him impress Louis. “Louis isn’t dating Zayn!” Niall shakes his head at him, not quite getting it.
“Yeah, I know,” he says slowly. “Weren’t we just talking about how I’m the one doing that?”
“I can’t go to work looking like this!” Harry says over him. “Niall, help!” So Harry hops in the shower to get the pomade out of his hair while Niall texts and finally calls Liam and Zayn to tell them why Harry’s going to be late to the office. And like, Harry’s in the shower anyway, so he decides why not clean every inch of himself. Just in case. Also, he uses more of Perrie’s shampoo. It smells like apples. Sue him.
Harry’s feeling pretty good about himself when he shows up at the office wearing the leopard print top and a long pea coat. He’d also piled his hair up of his forehead in a quiff and even gone so far to put on a spritz of cologne. Harry Styles is dressed to impress. Needless to say, the first thing Liam does upon seeing him is give him a round of applause.
“Good morning Mr. Styles,” he says, grinning, once Harry’s finished doing a full turn around the office.
“Liam,” Harry replies. He glances at Louis’ door as he does so, pleased to see that it’s been left open this morning. He’s a little confused by the lack of coat across his desk, before he notes the coat rack standing just inside the door.
“Zayn returned it this morning,” Liam explains, still grinning. Harry has to hand it to him, he would not be nearly as pleased when faced with someone attempting to woo the object of his affections, decisions to move on aside.
“Ah,” he manages. He supposes it’s good he hadn’t bought the one on Amazon, after all. Also, he’s got quite a few ideas for how to make up for it, plenty of other presents that he can give Louis if this all works out.
“Anyway,” Liam starts, but before he can finish, Louis speaks up.
“Is that Harold?” he calls. “Where have you been? Zayn wouldn’t say.” He sounds amused, more than anything, but also jealous. “Wouldn’t let me call you, either.” Harry wouldn’t have been able to answer the phone anyway, but Niall would have, and Harry remembers how he spent the end of his shower with two fingers pressed up against his prostate and the loofah between his teeth, and swallows. He makes a note to thank Zayn.
“Sorry,” he tells Louis, shaking off the residual nerves and striding into Louis’ view. “I hope you didn’t miss me too badly.”
“Not at all, actually. Mostly, I don’t want to have to hire another assistant. For some reason none of them like to stay on for more than three months” Louis isn’t looking at him, pen caught between his lips, but he lifts his head before he finishes that sentence. The pen drops onto the desk. Harry stares back at him, a little self conscious, but glad that he’d left the coat outside the office. After a pause, he knocks the stopper away from the door, letting it fall shut with a click behind him.
“Oops,” he says.
“Hi,” Louis repeats, lips twitching. He oh so subtly shifts the papers in front of him to the side, not caring for the order they’re in. And, like, Harry is definitely liking the way Louis is looking at him, eyes gone dark and cheekbones unfairly sharp because he’s got his head tilted slightly down, but he knows very well just who will be stuck straightening those papers later, so he ends up bridging the gap between them to grab hold of them.
“Don’t, do that,” he says, voice breaking when Louis reaches up to close a hand around his wrist, gazing up at him unblinkingly. “You’ll mess them all up,” Harry continues, quietly.
“I’ll mess you up,” Louis mutters under his breath, before releasing Harry’s wrist and getting up. Harry is on board with this movement, up until the moment Louis steps away from him, and stops looking quite so aroused, and almost looks angry. When Louis notices him look, he immediately goes soft in the eyes.
“Oh, Harry, don’t look at me like that,” he says quickly, shaking his head, and looking torn. “It’s not that I wouldn’t like to fuck you across my desk. It’s just, you do work for me.” As soon as he finishes speaking, Louis stops, closes his eyes, and breathes out his nose. “I don’t suppose you could pretend I didn’t say that first bit?” Harry very subtly shoves the papers off the desk, winces when they go fluttering, and settles himself up in their place. Louis blinks open one eye, and swallows, eyes trekking from the jut of Harry’s Adam’s apple all the way down his chest, to where his ankles are crossed in front of the desk. Harry gazes down at the top sadly.
“I really wanted buttons,” he tells Louis, reaching up to thumb at the collar where it sits unfairly high across his neck. “Cause then I could have my tits out, as my flatmate puts it.” He rolls his eyes. “But I really like this top, and I’m going to have to give it back to Zayn anyway because it’s unfair for him to give me all of this-” He breaks off when another hand joins his on his neck, and looks up to find that Louis has also joined him across the room. He swallows. He hadn’t noticed him approaching at all.
“It looks lovely on you,” Louis says. “Burberry, yes?” Harry swallows and then tries not to think about how Louis’ fingers press against his throat just a hint when he does.
“Yes,” he repeats back.
“Mmm.” Louis flicks his eyes down and up again, unconcerned. Harry takes back everything he said about how Louis had possibly been flirting back prior to this moment, because every other look he’s been on the receiving end of has been tame by comparison.
“This is when I mention that I’m leaving to become a serious journalist, yeah?” he manages to say, and then breaks off when Louis’ eyes go a bit darker.
“Oh, are you?” he says. Harry swallows past the overwhelming arousal humming through his veins and shifts his hips back against the desk, reaching up to drape both his arms across Louis’ shoulders.
“Assuming my former boss writes me a stunning recommendation letter, of course,” he says. Louis’ lips definitely twitch this time.
“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I hear your boss is very intimidating.” Harry lets out a breath somewhere near Louis’ ear.
“Not really,” he says. “It’s all talk, he’s a big softie, once you get to know him.” And probably he was asking for it, but the moment Harry’s lips finish rounding around the word ‘soft’, Louis slips a thigh between Harry’s legs and makes him well aware of just how ‘soft’ he is. Once that’s done, he grins at Harry, a little feral, but mostly amused. Harry is reminded of just how much he likes Louis, wanting into his trousers aside.
“Maybe not so much a softie,” he decides, tapping a finger to the back of Louis’ neck and then getting a bit lost in the baby-soft hair there. Louis’d taken to wearing his hair in an unfairly feathery fringe for the past few days, which had done nothing to help Harry not choke on bananas before he gave up on that point of attack. “I have to ask, though, were you not at all affected by the bananas?” There’s a pause, before Louis pulls back a bit, eyes a narrow.
“Hang on, was that on purpose?” he sputters out, sounding almost impressed. “Oh, you wanker, I knew it wasn’t a health kick or whatever else Liam tried to tell me it was.” Harry has to hand it to Liam for being both happy for Harry and Louis, and yet backstabbing at the same time.
“But you did notice,” he clarifies. Louis shakes his head.
“Yes, you idiot.” He smacks a hand to Harry’s chest and leaves it there. “Harold, you can put nearly an entire banana down your throat, I reckon anyone with a dick would be affected watching that.” He pauses, and then raises his voice. “Hey, Payno, did Harry deep throating bananas make you question the very meaning of life?” There’s a small pause.
“Fuck off, Tommo,” Liam finally calls, before he’s hushed by what sounds suspiciously like Niall. Harry pauses.
“Zayn?” he calls.
“Yeah, bro?” Zayn calls back, before someone kicks him, and he hisses, “Ow, Ni-” and then cuts off. Harry meets Louis eye’s, grinds his hips forward against the leg between his thighs, and then calls out to their nosy friends.
“If there happens to be a blond Irishman out there,” he says. “Please tell him to call his friend about that interview, and also tell him to very kindly take everyone out for lunch.”
“Will do, H!” Niall says gleefully from outside the door. “Use protection, have fun, also I’m still dating Zayn!” There’s a bit of laughter from Zayn and definitely Liam (Harry makes a note to make him deal with Louis’ ruined paperwork on the floor) before the door closes and they’re left alone. Harry drops his head forward to rest against Louis’ chest and sighs, hips stilling.
“I hate him,” he decides. Louis seems to be silently laughing, if the vibrations Harry feels against his forehead mean anything.
Wat zijn ze toch leuk niet?
Nou nog één stukje hierna
en jullie kunnen vast wel raden, wat daar gaat gebeuren?