Fic: Cannot Hide This - Part 1 [RPF: Harry/Liam/Louis]
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson
Word Count: ~20,600
Disclaimer: Not mine, not real, never happened.
Warning(s): Threesome, a bit of unsafe sex...
Summary: “The three of us, Liam. You, Harry, me, in one relationship. Not me and Harry and you separately, or Harry and you, or me and you. All three of us. Together.”
Notes: Lots and lots of love to badjujuboo for being an epic hand-holder through this entire thing. Couldn't have done it without you, Bacon. And a great big thank you to fr333bird for the super quick beta read. ♥
Title taken from One Direction's Moments because I couldn't help myself.
There are times that it's difficult for Harry to remember that Liam is truthfully one of his best mates. He never means for it to happen, but on occasion he just forgets that Liam is the sweetest, kindest person he's ever met. Sometimes, it's just so much easier to hate him.
The hardest part is that Liam doesn't even deserve it. Liam is honestly nothing more than a completely innocent bystander, but he gets dragged in against his will and Harry can't help misdirecting his screwed up feelings of hurt and anger toward him.
It's Louis. It's all Louis, always. Harry knows that, but when Louis comes back, all smiles, bad jokes, and overly touchy, Harry forgives him instantly, without a second thought. Liam is the one who earns the residual tension, the short, snappish tone and the moody glares; Liam feels the brunt of Harry's lasting temper, not Louis.
Harry doesn't mean to, doesn't want to treat Liam poorly when he knows that Liam never wanted any of it, but it's him that Louis goes to every time they have a disagreement. It's a jealousy thing, and Louis knows it pisses Harry off, and that's exactly why he does it. Every time, Harry will see it coming without any idea how to stop it. Louis will press his buttons, bored and too obnoxious for one person to handle, and Harry will say something that gets Louis all bothered, worked up over absolutely nothing, and Louis will leave, slamming the door behind him, and head straight for Liam's flat, to hang all over him, grin stupidly in his face, tuck himself right up close and just laugh. Which should make Harry happy, not having to deal with Louis' shit for a couple of hours, but it's not the touches or smiles that get to him so much, it's the look on Louis' face as he does it, the 'someone else wants me' and 'do you see how easily I could have somebody else?' that pisses Harry off.
It's not fair to Liam, not in the slightest, and Harry hates that he's involved, doesn't want for him to have to be, but at the same time, Harry wouldn't want it to be anyone else either. If it has to be someone, then Harry is glad it's Liam because no one else would be able to handle it. Liam is the most mature of them, the serious one, and he can cope with Harry's misguided outrage, can work his way through it gently to open Harry back up.
Niall would be so confused, wouldn't know what to do with Harry's indignation ― honestly, Harry can't even imagine being properly angry with Niall, he's too guileless and baby-faced. Zayn would take it all so personally. He'd get so hurt and offended to be in the middle the way that Liam is. Not that Liam isn't confused too, or hurt; he is, Harry knows that. But Liam can handle it, where the other guys wouldn't know how to.
There's a knock on the door, and Harry looks up at it, dubious. None of them knock. It's a terrible habit that should probably have been corrected after the first couple of awkward incidents, but that's half the point. Knocking is only the polite thing to do, and between them, no one's willing to miss out an opportunity to catch each other doing something potentially humiliating for a nicety.
Harry goes to open it, partially shielding himself with the door just in case, but it's only Liam. He smiles carefully at Harry and Harry has to force out a tight smile in return. It's a bit more difficult to keep from making a biting remark about how Louis had just gone over to Liam's a few short hours ago, shouldn't Liam be there with him?
“Can I come in?” Liam asks hesitantly, his tone gentle.
Harry steps aside silently to let him in and closes the door with more force than is really necessary. They both stand there, awkward and stiff, saying nothing. Harry resolutely stares at the wall on the other side of the room and waits for Liam to say whatever he came over for.
“I left him at my place with Niall and Zayn. Hopefully they’ll wear each other out and won't trash it too horribly before they all pass out.”
Harry sort of gives up at that, tension draining out of his body and leaving him weak. He drags himself to the couch and flops down on it, sighing. It's so easy to forget that Liam never asks for any of this. Louis annoys him just as horribly as he annoys Harry, probably even more considering all the hell Louis makes him go through with Harry, after. Being silently pissed at Liam when he's two flats over is one thing, but trying to stay mad at him when he's looking at you with those completely guiltless, gentle eyes is something else entirely.
“I wouldn't count on it,” Harry says, propping a foot on the coffee table.
Liam sits beside him, still cautious and worried. “I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see right now,” he starts. His tone is void of blame, like it's just entirely okay with him if Harry hates him for being nothing more than a good friend to Louis.
“No,” Harry says. It sounds as though he's trying to convince himself more so than Liam, and it only makes it worse when he repeats it again, with a shake of his head.
Liam looks as though he wants to say something, to finally broach the subject, but they never have before, and to start now doesn't seem all that wise. Harry still almost wishes he would, wants Liam to call him on his shit, and to definitely call Louis on his, but Liam just shuts his mouth before any sound even makes it out and looks away, resigned.
“Okay, well. I was wondering if I could sleep here tonight? Zayn's flat smells and Niall never has any extra bedding,” he says in a way of explanation. “I, um, I don’t really want to go back to my flat right now.”
Harry falters, surprised. He clears his throat before he speaks, unsure of his voice. “Yeah, yeah, of course, Liam. Um. I'm sure Louis wouldn't mind you using his bed.”
The words nearly kill him to say, but he does so regardless, standing before he's even finished to escape to his own room, so he won't punch Liam in the face.
“No! Harry, the couch. The couch is fine. I don't want... I don't want to sleep in Louis' bed.”
“Right,” Harry says curtly. He stops at the linen closet on his way, pulling out an extra pillow and blanket for Liam, though Harry doesn’t entirely believe he has any interest at all in sleeping on their couch. “Night,” he offers, dropping the covers onto the sofa despite Liam’s obvious move to reach out for them.
“Goodnight,” Liam replies meekly.
As Harry gets ready for bed, he waits for the telltale creak of floorboards across from his room that will give Liam away as he sneaks into Louis’ bedroom. It never comes. Harry brushes his teeth with his ear pressed to the bedroom door, but the only thing he hears is the distant squeak of leather when Liam shifts his position. Then silence. Nothing.
In the quiet, dark of his bedroom, Harry’s guilt starts to eat away at him. He’s sure Liam is still out in the living room, probably futilely trying to get comfortable on the too narrow, stiff couch. It’s so stupid that Harry reacts this way, every single time, when it’s Liam. Liam, who just wants to make everyone else happy, who cares more about the wants and needs of others than himself; Liam, who would literally give the shirt off of his back to someone in need.
Nothing about it is right.
Harry’s regretting treating Liam like shit. He can’t sleep, and he can barely give himself the chance to try, because he doesn’t even want to. He doesn’t want to go to sleep mad at Liam, especially when Liam doesn’t deserve it. There’s no way he can sleep knowing that Liam isn’t going to get much rest at all with that horrible couch as his bed.
Harry kicks back the blankets, frustrated with himself, and quickly pulls on a pair of pajamas before he quietly creeps out into the living room. He doubts Liam is asleep, but he whispers anyway, just to be safe. “Li.”
When he gets no reply, he takes another careful step forward, peering over the back of the sofa at Liam’s prone form. “Li,” he whispers again.
Liam glances over his shoulder, sees Harry leaning over him, and sits up quickly. “Do you want me to go? That’s fine, totally. I’ll crash at Niall’s. Can I borrow this stuff, just for the night? I’ll have it back–”
“Jesus, Liam, no!” Harry cuts him off sharply. Liam makes this sort of surprised, upset sound, almost the word ‘but’, just not quite, and Harry continues before Liam can misunderstand him further. “Just take Louis’ bed, alright? I’m sure he won’t be back tonight, and it’s fine. He’s not going to care, and I– I don’t care either.”
“Oh,” Liam breathes out, quiet and relieved. Harry tries not to react, or not to overreact, at least. “That’s... Thanks, but no, thank you. This is fine, Haz, really.”
“It’s really not. No one even sleeps on this couch by accident, you know that.”
Liam sighs, giving Harry this sort of stressed out, intense stare that goes on forever. “It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry, just go get some sleep. I’m not sleeping in Louis' bed, so just forget about that.”
Harry’s mind is made as soon as the thought comes to him. Without bothering to voice his solution to Liam, Harry’s grabs his hand and pulls him up from the couch.
“W– What?” Liam protests mildly.
Harry doesn’t bother with a reply, and Liam keeps quiet and follows without fighting as Harry leads him down the hall toward his bedroom, much to Harry’s satisfaction. “Sleep,” Harry says gruffly, flopping carelessly back into his previously vacated spot in bed.
Harry keeps himself propped up on his elbows, waiting for Liam to get in. The bed is huge, and it’s not as though they’re doing anything they haven’t already in the past ― and those times that bed sharing had been necessary, they’d been in a much smaller room, with a much smaller mattress. It’s no big deal to Harry, and he’s too tired to wonder what the look on Liam’s face means.
“Liam,” he groans, tired and grumpy and still mixed up somewhere between loving and hating this big idiot that is staring at him with the most confused expression Harry’s ever seen.
The bed hardly even shifts when Liam crawls in. Harry drawls exaggeratedly, “Finally,” as he switches off the lights. He kicks around beneath the covers until he’s finally comfortable on his side facing Liam. “Go to sleep, you freak,” he grumbles, reaching over to flick ― what he hopes is ― the side of Liam’s head.
“Sweet dreams, Hazza,” he thinks he hears whispered into the darkness a few minutes later.
Harry wakes to someone bouncing on him. It’s not even remotely surprising to him as it’s the way he wakes most mornings ― one way or the other, sometimes more crudely than others. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Louis.
Harry groans his discontent into the pillow beneath his face. It’s meant to sound like leave me alone, it’s too early for this shit but Louis never has been great at interpreting situations for what they really are.
“I knew you’d be happy to see me,” Louis croons into Harry’s ear, pulling his hair with these oddly comforting little tugs, right at the back of Harry’s head. He groans again. “Look at you and Liam all snuggled up in bed together. It’s giving me the warm fuzzies, seeing my two favorite boys in bed with each other.”
Harry lifts his head from the pillow and looks toward Liam. He’s not awake yet and he’s still right where he’d been when Harry had fallen asleep. They’re far from snuggling, at least an arm’s length separates them, but they are still in bed together, and for the briefest of moments, he wonders why Louis isn’t jealous.
He doesn’t dwell on it long, as he notices Liam’s open mouth, the darkened patch on the pillow beneath it, and feels the sweetest kick of satisfaction that Liam is drooling all over Louis’ half of the bed. Despite the slightly disgusting drool, he looks so sweet all curled up beneath the duvet. Harry’s content to just let him sleep, but, as usual, Louis has a different idea.
The slap is sudden and loud. Liam jerks awake, nearly falling right off the bed. Harry startles too, shocked at Louis’ unexpected movement. Liam stares at them, squinty-eyed and rubbing his sore cheek, for a few moments before he darts upright. One hand goes to his mouth, wiping the wet from his lips, while the other pats at his fluffy morning hair. His cheeks are flaming red, but Harry thinks it’s probably from being mashed against the pillow on one side, and Louis’ rude slap on the other, because he surely has nothing to blush about, why would he be embarrassed?
“Um,” he starts, glancing from Harry to Louis and back again.
“Morning, sunshine,” Louis crows eagerly, flinging himself across the bed to get at Liam, who is quick enough to avoid any more of Louis’ obnoxious behavior.
He stands beside the bed, watching nervously as Louis rights himself back on top of Harry, straddling his hips. “I should go,” he says finally. He turns to leave without another word, quickly slipping out of sight.
“That was awkward,” Louis states the obvious, loudly enough that Liam probably hears since he can’t have left that quickly. “Maybe he thinks I was trying to have sex with you.”
Harry scoffs, turning his face back into his pillow to mumble, “You’re dressed. Or, well, you’ve got pants on, at least. And there’s a blanket between us, he’s not that naive.”
“Oh, young Harry. That’s where you’re wrong. I am clearly trying to have sex with you right now.”
“You’re doing a piss poor job of it, I must say,” Harry grumbles, eyes rolling.
“Am I? Am I really?” Louis asks. His voice is breathy against Harry’s ear, and Harry represses a shudder.
“Yes, you really are an arsehole.”
Louis laughs into his ear, and the sound alone raises the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck. He knows by now that sound, that laugh means nothing but trouble. And yet he doesn’t put up much of a fight at all when Louis tries to pin him, only enough to make it look real.
“I’ll show you an arsehole,” Louis says, flinging the duvet to the floor and removing Harry’s pajamas just as quickly.
After Harry’s showered and dressed, he easily makes the way from his own flat to Liam’s. As usual, he doesn’t bother knocking before he walks in.
He doesn’t know what he expects to see ― a mess maybe, from the boys being wild there the night before, Niall passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor, Liam cleaning, something, but the last thing he expects is to find Liam sat on the couch with a jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and the mopiest expression Harry’s ever seen. His lips smack stickily as he sucks more peanut butter from the spoon, leaning his head onto his free hand, staring at absolutely nothing at all.
Harry takes a deep breath before he steps into the room. “Did one of your turtles die?” he asks carefully. He really hopes not, Liam is so attached to those things.
Liam startles, eyes going huge as he hastily shoves the spoon into the jar of peanut butter and hides it behind the lamp on the end table next to him, like Harry wouldn’t notice.
“Harry, hey. What? No. No. Hey. What’s up?” Liam blurts. He rubs his hands down his shirt first, then down his legs, like he always does when he’s nervous.
Harry sits down warily, watching Liam’s fidgety hands pick at the seams of his trousers. “Nothing, just stopped by to make sure you didn’t have a huge mess to clean up. Is everything okay, Liam?” There’s no segue to be found there, but Harry can’t honestly give a shit.
“Fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine, actually. They didn’t even break anything.”
Had Harry not walked in on Liam looking so dejected, he might have believed the smile he puts on to be the real thing, but from up close, Harry can tell it’s off. It just doesn’t quite make it the whole way to his eyes.
“Liam,” Harry starts. He inhales, thinking of what to say, and frowns. “You really smell like peanut butter.”
Liam’s fake smile drops into this self-loathing sort of grimace and he chuckles humorlessly, licking his lips. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“No need to be sorry,” Harry says, scooting across the couch to sit closer to Liam's side. He reaches around Liam for the jar he stashed by the lamp and loads the spoon up for himself. “But most people who are fine don't sit about on their sofa eating peanut butter by the spoonful.”
Liam's cheeks redden slightly and he looks away, biting his lip. Harry doesn't take his eyes off of him, curious. The peanut butter is the gross, low-sugar kind ― because Liam is actually an old man, apparently ― but Harry eats it anyway, making the most disgusting noises that he can to purposely irritate Liam.
“Is it about this morning?” Harry prompts. He's determined to find out what is bothering his friend, and Liam clearly isn't going to spill it on his own.
Harry's surprised when Liam grows visibly uneasy at the mention of that morning. He didn't actually think it had anything to do with what had happened, because Louis was always smacking Liam ― which Harry has never really understood, but that was often the case when it came to Louis ― and surely Liam wouldn't take it personally.
He laughs then, suddenly realizing why Liam is discomforted. “Oh, God,” he groans, shaking his hair out of his eyes and glancing at his friend. “You weren't gone yet, were you?”
Liam reddens further and blinks about four times before his eyes dart toward Harry and then away again. Harry laughs harder. “Jesus, you heard him eating me out. That's fucking embarrassing.”
It's not, really. He doesn't care. Well, it's a little embarrassing considering the stupidly desperate sounds he makes whenever Louis does that but it's not as if Liam's never heard them going at it before ― tour buses aren't exactly the most private of places to get off. He wonders if Liam came back and saw them, or if he could just hear Harry's needy whimpers; he wonders how long Liam stayed, long enough to hear Harry come, or longer yet to hear Louis say, “Fucking fuck, just suck me off already, Haz, open up,” ― to hear Louis using Liam's nickname for Harry in such a filthy way.
Harry snorts, loading up the spoon once more and shoving it into his mouth. He moves to lean around Liam to put the peanut butter back on the table, but decides to press his mouth to Liam's face instead of leaning away.
Liam jerks back, startled. His hands come to Harry's chest, trying to shove him off, but Harry only presses closer, kissing messily over Liam's cheek. He's half on top of Liam, practically in his lap with his hands twisted tightly into Liam's shirt, rubbing his mouth along Liam's jaw, laughing, when their lips accidentally line up.
Harry should pull away. He knows that; it's the first thought that pops into his mind once it happens, but he doesn't. Liam goes still, probably waiting for Harry to finally give up, but Harry kisses him.
And just like that, they aren't playing around anymore. Liam pushes Harry away from him harshly and stands abruptly, leaving Harry in a heap against the cushions.
Liam looks at Harry just once before he walks away, and the expression on his face is so hurt that Harry can't even make a joke. He can't laugh it off like he'd meant to, or call Liam a serious Payne-in-the-arse. Instead, he's left there staring after the line of his friend's tense shoulders.
He doesn't know what to do. Liam may be the serious one of them, but he can take a joke. He's got a sense of humor and he's not like this, never has been before. They only ever apologize when things go really wrong and someone does end up getting hurt, and this doesn't feel like it's supposed to be one of those times. Harry doesn't know how he could have hurt Liam, but the pain on his face had been unmistakable. Maybe he'd unintentionally kneed Liam in the bollocks, or just disgusted him that horribly, Harry doesn't know.
Confused, he walks back over to his and Louis' flat. He's unsurprised to find Louis asleep in his own bed, and he goes to wash his face before he strips off and climbs in with him. He straddles Louis' hips and braces his hands on the bare skin of his stomach. He jostles Louis when he doesn't open his eyes.
“You're going to make me pee on you,” Louis whines.
“Kinky,” Harry replies, moving his hands lower to press harder at Louis' tummy.
Louis pinches Harry's thigh ― hard ― in retaliation and Harry jerks away from the pain, and then settles back against Louis' lap with a sigh, still waiting for Louis to open his damn eyes.
“I know that sigh,” Louis says, cracking one eye open to peek at Harry. He opens the other soon after, and Harry must look pretty bad because Louis is instantly concerned. “Hey, what is it, Hazza?”
Harry frowns at the use of that name, mind consumed with the image of Liam's hurt face. “I kissed Liam,” he whispers, squinting at Louis when it comes out like a question.
Louis simply stares back at him, rubbing his hands up and down Harry's thighs comfortingly. “Okay,” he says after a few quiet moments. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Harry sighs again, distractedly chewing at his lower lip. “I– I didn't think it would be. It was just a joke, but he... he.” Harry shakes his head, unsure of what to say. “He acted weird.”
Louis' hands still then, stopping to rest against Harry's upper thighs. He squeezes once and then nudges Harry off him. “I have to pee too much to have this conversation right now.”
Harry groans as he falls over sideways to the bed and wraps himself up in the duvet to wait. Louis takes his time and doesn't return for nearly ten minutes, a bowl of cereal balanced in his hand.
He sits cross-legged on the bed beside Harry and shovels a spoonful into his mouth before he mutters, “Tell me exactly what happened,” around the mouthful.
So Harry does.
Everything's awkward after that. Harry's never ― not ever ― felt uncomfortable around any of them, but suddenly, he can't sit still or meet Liam's eyes. It's not like Liam's any better as he's actively trying to avoid Harry just as much as Harry's secretly trying to avoid him. The downside is that they are both horribly obvious, though Harry guesses that Liam is trying to be as inconspicuous about it as he is. Maybe Harry is really overreacting about the whole thing ― Louis thinks he is ― but if that's the case, then Liam is as well, because even when he's trying to act normal, he's far from normal.
The worst part is that Louis has turned into this completely obnoxious hornball. It's not that he wasn't that before, but now he's even worse, especially when Liam's around. At first, Harry was certain that it was jealousy, despite Louis' insistence that it was really no big deal because so what, Harry kisses people sometimes. It was just a kiss, and it's not like it even meant anything. It didn't, or it wasn't supposed to at least, but it kind of did. Obviously. If it hadn't meant anything, they wouldn't have to be dealing with this horrible awkwardness.
It's not jealousy, though, Harry comes to realize, because just as often as Louis is kissing Harry in front of Liam, groping him and generally being a fucking horny bastard; he's also pushing Harry toward Liam, getting them alone together. It doesn't make sense, and it's so painfully uncomfortable that Harry has no idea what to do.
Harry's the jealous one. It's been made obvious time and time again. But it's not like Louis doesn't get jealous too. He does, usually at the strangest moments, when Harry's not even doing anything. This isn’t one of those times. It's more like Louis has decided to make a game of it, to push Liam and Harry to the brink, to see which of them will break first. It's got to the point where Harry can't even be in the same room as Liam without it feeling hard to breathe, like the room's so stuffed full of tension that there's no space for air.
The others have noticed, but if they've said anything, Harry hasn't heard about it yet. They stick with Liam, mostly, follow him out of the room with disgusted eyerolls and comments about Harry and Louis needing to get over their honeymoon phase already.
It's not as if Harry simply spreads his legs and lets Louis go for it, either. The problem is that Louis is annoyingly persistent and when he wants something, he generally gets his way. It would take, well... someone much, much stronger than Harry to resist Louis when he's determined.
“Want you flat on your stomach, rutting against the bed while I fuck you. Want you to get the bed all messy with your come.”
Harry huffs out a shaky breath, eyes darting in Liam's direction unintentionally as Louis whispers in his ear.
They're supposed to be watching a film, but Harry all of a sudden can't remember what it's about or even if he was liking it before Louis started in on his filthy talk.
“Won't even let you use your hands, I'll fuck it right out of you.”
Harry groans, completely involuntarily, and the sound is stuck somewhere between being exasperated and helplessly turned on. He shoves Louis away from him as much as he can and puts one of the throw pillows in his lap to block Louis' next attempt to get into his pants ― which he has no doubt is imminent.
The plot of what they're watching is lost to Harry. Something explodes on screen, and he watches indifferently as a female character cries. He's not sure who she is or if he's supposed to feel bad about what's happening. Harry grows bored of it quickly and lets Louis fit himself up against his side, under his arm. Harry looks Liam's way again. He doesn't really mean to, but he can't help it either; it's like he suddenly has to be aware of where Liam is at all times. He's surprised when he catches Liam's eye, but it lasts just a second before Liam flits his stare back at the television.
It only takes another five minutes for Louis to try slipping his hand into Harry's trousers, and Harry's squirming and muttered warnings draw everyone's attention.
Liam is the first to get fed up with it ― he usually is, lately. “Give it a rest,” he hears grumbled as Liam walks past, out the door.
Harry wants to get up and follow him, to finally confront him about what's going on. It never used to be like this. Liam never got so visibly bothered by Louis' shameless public displays of affection in the past. Harry just wants to know what's changed.
“You two are not fucking in my flat,” Zayn warns sharply.
Louis leaves one last sloppy kiss to the side of Harry's neck before he pulls away. “The sex smell would freshen it up in here a bit, honestly. And I think what you meant to say is that we're not fucking here again.”
Harry clamps his hand over Louis' mouth about a quarter of a second too late. Louis laughs from behind Harry's hand, while Harry rushes to assure Zayn that Louis is just joking ― he's not, which Harry's sure Zayn knows. Niall is laughingly holding a mostly jokingly irritated Zayn back, and Louis pries Harry's fingers off of his mouth easily enough, yelling out a laters as he drags Harry off the couch and out the door.
He pulls Harry behind him down the corridor, shifting them so Harry's in front and Louis is pressing him on from behind, impossibly close, once they've rounded the corner.
“You are such a twat,” Harry laughs, gasping when Louis spins him around and pushes him up against their door.
“You love my twat,” Louis says, and Harry means to groan, but it comes out as a laugh anyway.
Louis kisses him mid-laugh, pushed up on his toes to reach, and Harry opens up for him, really groaning this time, when Louis angles Harry's head lower.
They're not even inside yet, Louis hasn't so much as taken the key out to open the door, but he's flicking the button on Harry's trousers loose already, reaching inside.
“Louis,” Harry hisses. “Lou, for fuck's sake, not out here.”
But Louis' got him in hand already, the pad of his thumb circling over the very tip while the rest of his hand works down the length of him. He uses every trick he knows to get Harry to shut up, and it works flawlessly for Louis. He's got Harry where he wants him, like putty in his hands.
Harry sags back to lean his weight on the door behind him, biting his lip to hold in the whimper Louis twists out of him. Louis pushes forward, bracketing Harry's thigh between his, and fucks the bulge in his jeans up against Harry's hip, stripping Harry off ruthlessly.
“You're going to come, and then I'm going to put you to bed and make you come again,” Louis whispers, words dripping with promise. Harry bites down harder on his lip.
Movement on the fringe of Harry's line of sight catches his attention, and he sees Liam before Liam's noticed them. Harry jerks up into the hold of Louis' hand, cursing, drawing Liam's eyes to them.
Harry means to tell Louis to stop immediately, but the words get stuck in his throat when Liam doesn't look away. Where they're standing, Harry and Louis are covered by mostly darkness. What they're doing is obvious, even from a distance, Harry has no doubt, but Liam wouldn't be able to see everything ― wouldn't be able to see that Harry's noticed him, wouldn't be able to see Harry's cock leaking pre-come into Louis' fist. But Liam is bathed in light, obvious, even as he backs off just the slightest bit. He never looks away from them.
“Lou,” Harry forces past his lips. “Louis, wait, just–” He cuts off with a gasp, head thumping back against the door when Louis bites down on his neck. It hurts, fucking stings, and there's going to be a nasty bruise there, but it pushes Harry over the edge, coming with his eyes still locked on Liam. “Fuck,” he grunts.
Liam is still there; further off, but still there. Close enough that Harry can see him, see the way he grips at himself through his trousers.
Louis unlocks the door, holds Harry up as he stumbles inside, shaking and confused. Harry's in Louis' arms when Lou flicks the lights on, illuminating Harry, making it obvious to Liam in the distance that Harry's looking right at him.
The door closes, kicked shut by Louis who's holding Harry tightly to him, squeezing his arse and rubbing up against his oversensitive dick. Harry blinks away the brown eyes and looks into blue ones.
“Liam was out there,” Harry says.
Louis pulls back slightly, meeting Harry's eyes properly. His features kind of twist, and then he asks, “Was he?”
To Harry's ears, it's too innocent. He blinks and searches Louis' face for something, a sign, a giveaway. He wants to ask, Did you know he was there? but Louis is pushing him toward the bedroom. Harry's knees are still weak with confusion and the orgasm that was ripped from him, and Louis keeps him moving down the hall. Unfocused, Harry's forced to keep himself standing by leaning into Louis and using the walls for support; his mind feels like it's being torn, going in two different directions, neither of the paths very clear.
Louis' bedroom is closer and he guides them in, easily shoving Harry to the bed. He climbs atop Harry and yanks his shirt over his head before he stands again and jerks Harry's trousers and pants from his body.
“Arse in the air, love,” Louis says as he strips his own clothes off.
Harry complies, rolling onto his stomach with his knees beneath him just enough to spread him open. Louis groans, drops to the bed between Harry's legs, and thumbs over Harry's hole, making him shudder.
Harry closes his eyes and sees Liam; he instantly opens them again and stares straight ahead at the wall. He feels dirty, body all messed up with confusion over what happened. It'd been an accident; it never should have happened.
To Harry, it feels like Liam's been there, with him and Louis, since that stupid inadvertent kiss. It started there, and it's gone all the way to the point of Liam actually being there while Harry got off. It feels like he's with them now, right in bed with them as Louis works Harry open with his fingers.
Harry tries to shake off the feeling, glancing back over his shoulder to see Louis ― just Louis ― behind him, tonguing over his teeth while he fucks his way into Harry's body one finger at a time.
“Lou,” Harry moans.
He's hard already, aching with it despite coming so recently. He pushes back into Louis' hand shamelessly, feels the sticky-wet between his stomach and the bed where his cock is dripping messily.
He blushes, hot all over, when he thinks of Liam being able to see him like this. He wonders what Liam would do ― would he be surprised at how desperate Harry is, would he like it, would he want to touch, take over, fit his fingers into Harry's body alongside Louis'?
Harry whines high in his throat, needy and terrified. He looks over his shoulder again, sees Louis, and turns the monologue in his head into nothing but Louis Louis Louis. Just Louis.
It's easier to clear his mind once Louis pushes into him. Familiar and exactly what he needs, the only one who's ever been in him this way. Louis is everything, and has been for so long now.
Louis settles right in, nuzzles up behind Harry's ears and breathes his damp breaths there. It makes Harry shiver, happy and warm, but not so fever-hot like his skin could melt off. He sucks the air into his lungs, filling himself completely with Louis, the smell of him and them, together, musk, and the feel of him moving so deep inside.
“Good?” Louis asks, kissing the tops of Harry's shoulders.
“Yeah,” Harry sighs. He nods loosely and arches into Louis' next thrust, closing his eyes to really feel himself being opened up around Louis.
“You liked Liam watching,” Louis says.
Harry tenses and drops his face into his arms. No, no, no, he thinks, squirming away from the idea, from Louis bringing it up.
Louis braces a hand on Harry's hip and holds him flat to the bed as he fucks into Harry more quickly.
“It's okay. It's alright, Haz. Just think about it. Do you want him here now, watching?” Harry hisses, shaking his head and pulling at his own hair. “Shh, I just want you to think about it. What do you want Liam to do? Do you want him to touch you? He could hold you down for me, spread you open so I could go deeper. Do you want him to kiss you? He could suck on your fingers or lick right over that tender spot on your neck. Do you want his hand around your cock? No, no. If he was here right now, you'd want him beneath you, so you could rub up against his stomach, his cock, come all over that soft, silky skin.”
Harry cries out, hopelessly lost to Louis' words, the insistent press of his cock inside, making Harry shake until he spills over.
“God, yes,” Louis moans. His hips snap and roll, harder than before, pushing Harry into the softness of the bed, right into the wet warmth of his come. It feels good, too good, too much, on the point of hurting, the way his dick catches on the soiled fabric. Then Louis slows, holds himself deep as his cock pulses warmth through Harry's body.
And Louis, he's always been too curious, likes to watch things, make them happen, just to see. He sits back on his knees after pulling out of Harry's body, and he spreads Harry apart, watches as his come slips from Harry's body down his balls, dripping to make the bed messier yet. His nail catches on Harry's sore rim when he thumbs inside, forcing more of it out, and he simply pats Harry's arse at the sound of his pained hiss.
“Do you think Liam would lick you clean if we asked him to?”
Harry full-body shivers, trembling all over, still not fully recovered. He sobs as his clenches up tight around Louis' crooked thumb.
“Don't,” he pleads. “Please, don't.”
Louis withdraws his hand and lays himself flat against Harry's back, arms looped under Harry's chest. He holds him tightly, nodding into the back of Harry's neck. “No more,” he promises. “No more for tonight.”
Louis keeps his word and they don't speak of what happened that night. The next morning comes and the memory weighs heavy on Harry's mind, dream-like in quality. He almost can't believe it wasn't something he'd fabricated in his sleep. It feels so unreal.
Harry's not going to be the one to bring it up, and he's not entirely surprised that Louis doesn't either.
They're normal. Everything is just as it was, except now Harry has Liam on his mind even more than he did before. He doesn't know if it's more unsettling that Louis knows or if it would be worse if he didn't.
It feels like cheating, to want someone else. But it's not as though Harry just wants Liam; he wants Louis too, needs Louis. It scares him, frankly. It had been hard enough wanting his best friend the way he did before he and Louis were together. He feels abnormal for wanting Liam the same way, for wanting everything from his closest mates.
He wants to talk to Louis about it, to get it out there, but he's afraid too. He thinks that Louis should be jealous, would have a right to be. Harry knows he'd be jealous if it was Louis openly wanting Liam this way. Maybe he does. He's the one who brought it up, after all, so he must want it too. But it feels okay, somehow. Like it's alright because he knows that Louis wants Liam for Harry, not for himself. Wants them all together.
Harry doesn't know. His mind's a muddled mess and nothing makes the slightest bit of sense ― not his wants, or his thoughts, or his feelings. It's all too much.
Harry looks up and Louis is hanging half out the door, shouting down the corridor. Texting would have been easier, more effective, but it's Louis and he's never happy unless he's doing something stupid.
Harry settles back against the couch, chewing at his cuticles. He tells himself to stop, it's a gross habit, but he can't help it when he's nervous.
Niall is the first to show, pushing his way past Louis who's blocking the doorway like a twat. Zayn waves as he walks by, says he'll go get Liam.
Harry does force himself to keep his fingers from his mouth then. He tries to sit still, tries not to fidget, but his knee bounces and his toe taps. Niall ― bless him ― brings Harry a drink, and Harry downs it in one go.
Niall finds that hilarious and Harry's eyes dart to Louis, find him leaning against the wall, watching Harry. Harry blushes and stands to get a refill, but quickly sits back down when the door opens to admit Zayn and Liam. Louis raises an eyebrow, clearly amused at how flustered Harry is.
He's so nervous and he doesn't even know why. He just wants to act normal and can't seem to no matter how hard he tries. It's so stupid. It's Liam, the boy who still gets nervous and shy around them about certain things, he'd never say anything about what happened in front of the other boys, probably wouldn't say anything about it ever. It's not like Harry has anything to be embarrassed about anyway. Liam had been the one to stand there watching them ― Liam didn't know anything else had happened, couldn't have any idea about the thoughts Harry had then and later on. Harry's not about to give himself away.
He swallows down his ridiculous unease and stands up, smiling as he normally would at Zayn and Liam. Liam's cheeks go pink, but Harry ignores that. “Hey, boys. Grab a drink.”
Harry slips around the backside of the table, next to Louis to mix up another drink. He hip-checks Louis out of his way and snorts when Louis spanks him for it. Across the room, someone coughs, but Harry doesn't look up to see who. The grip he has on his control is delicate at best, he's not about to risk it by catching Liam's eye again so soon.
Zayn and Louis are talking nonsense, and Harry sticks to Louis' side, just because it's easier that way than potentially getting left semi-alone with Liam. He's not really paying attention to their conversation, but he's pretending to be, and that takes up just enough effort.
Niall wanders over eventually, which leaves Liam somewhere alone. Harry starts to inject his own thoughts into their rambling, just so Louis won't catch on and try to make him go entertain Liam.
No one really notices besides Harry when Liam joins them. He says nothing, and quietly sorts through the bottles on the table, reading some of the labels. As is usual lately, Harry is hyper-aware of his presence, stiffening slightly before reminding himself to relax.
Louis must feel Harry's reaction though, as he wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder, squeezing him closer and rubbing his shoulder slowly. His hand moves further up, massaging softly as he goes, and then his thumb is unexpectedly pressing harshly into the bruise he'd left with his teeth the night before.
Harry hisses, jerking away. The talking stops abruptly, and then Niall is laughing, choking out, “Jesus, what'd you do to his neck, Tommo?”
“Should see the rest of him,” Louis bluffs easily. He takes a sip from his cup and raises his eyebrows at Harry's betrayed expression.
“I don't want to hear about it,” Zayn groans, half raising his hands towards his ears already in case Louis decides to reveal the sordid details of their night.
Harry's heart jumps up into his throat at the possibility. The tenuous hold he had on his nerves is shot. Blushing, he gulps down what's left of his drink and immediately turns to fill another. He doesn't think of having to face Liam before he turns, but then he's right there, eye to eye with Harry.
Harry wants to kiss him. Liam smiles stiffly, and Harry wants to lick the smile right off his face. He wants to see Liam's lips puffy and bruised, slick and shiny with spit. He wants to push Liam across the room, lay him flat out across the couch, fit himself right into the space between Liam's thighs, and kiss him until everything's changed, until it's right.
Liam's the one who's supposed to be fixing everything. But he's doing nothing; he does nothing but stare at Harry for the briefest of moments then turns away. Harry wants things to go back to the way they were before, when he kind of hated Liam, would have rather hit him in the face than kiss him, back when Liam so easily wriggled his way back into Harry's good graces with the sweetest of smiles and the softest of words.
Now Liam doesn't even talk to him, and Harry wouldn't know what to say if he tried. They haven't talked since the kiss, not really. There's been nothing more than the occasional muttered word within the awkward stretches of silence since that day.
So maybe Harry's wrong for wanting to snog Liam silly. Clearly Liam thinks so. Maybe that's just it ― Liam isn't interested in him. That pisses Harry off, really, because it's not fair. He's seen how Liam looks at Louis sometimes, and Harry just wants Liam to look at him like that too.
Harry pours another drink, angry and bitter, and swallows that one too fast too. He's going for another when there's a hand at the small of his back, stopping him.
“Hey, slow down,” Louis says, concern evident in his voice. “You're going to make yourself sick.” And that's kind of the point right now. He just wants to forget how ridiculously obsessed he is with Liam, and Liam's stupid face, and his stupid mouth, stupid voice and hair and legs and birthmark. “Go get some food, alright?”
Harry does just that, leaving his cup behind, and not just because Louis told him to. Three drinks in under an hour is going to hit him hard.
He slams his way around the kitchen, drops a frying pan to the stove, slams the cupboards, rattles his way noisily through the fridge. He's a bit lost in his own world, and it makes him jump when he's being forcefully pushed back, back, back, until he's up against the wall.
Louis pins him there, a solid weight on Harry's chest for him to shake against. Harry struggles just a little, twisting, defiant, but Louis holds him harder, fingers bruising his flesh where they're gripping his waist tightly.
“It's not fucking fair,” Harry snaps quietly into Louis' ear. His voice doesn't need to be loud for all the hurt and confusion and frustration to seep into the tone; he sounds mean, even at just a whisper. “I know how he looks at you. You do too, it's why I get so jealous. He wants you, he always has. But he won't even fucking look at me. He won't talk to me. Why doesn't he want me?”
Harry growls and grinds his teeth, breathing raggedly into Louis' hair. Louis says nothing, just somehow manages to hold Harry tighter yet, the wall a cool line down the heat of his tense back. Something's broken inside of him, damaged from holding this all in for too long. It's all coming out now. They should have talked about it earlier, right away. It never would have come to this if they'd have just talked this morning. But Louis must not have realized just how deep it runs for Harry, how much it's all bothering him. Harry didn't even realize it himself.
“I want him. I want him so fucking much. And he wants you. I need him to want me like he wants you, Lou. I need him to want us both.”
“So stop being shy, Hazza. You weren't shy for me, don't clam up on him. Show him what he can have,” Louis whispers back, sounding almost angry with intensity.
Harry inhales sharply at Louis' final sentence. He has to know if he means it, if he really means what he's said, and when Harry catches his eye, he can see it there.
“Yeah?” Harry asks.
Louis nods. “Yeah. If it's what you want, then yes. The three of us.”
Harry's almost certain it's not the best idea to decide this now, while they're intoxicated, but can't honestly give a fuck. He feels giddy and light-headed, and he loves Louis so much he can hardly breathe. Harry kisses him, and it's surprisingly gentle despite the fact that Louis still has him pressed painfully to the wall.
“Your sandwich is burning,” Louis says into Harry's mouth.
It confuses him for a second, 'til he registers the sound of the frying pan sizzling and the smell of bread getting burned black.
“Shit,” he curses, hastily flipping the sandwich over. It's not too bad, he can scrape it off.
Louis' fingers trail along Harry's lower back as he walks by, back to entertaining their small crowd. “Remember what I said,” he reminds with a significant look in Harry's direction.
Harry eats his grilled cheese with a glass of milk, and wonders if he'll regret it later, if he's throwing up. He's done with the heavy drinking for the night and grabs a beer from the fridge, decides to sip on that for a while.
The boys are all crowded into the living room, Niall and Zayn in the recliners with their feet up and their drinks hanging precariously from their fingertips. Louis is sprawled across most of the couch, his head pillowed on Liam's thigh. Harry could sit on top of Louis, push his legs out of the way and sit normally on the couch, or sit on the floor, he supposes, but there's a small gap between Liam and the other end of the sofa, and Harry hesitates before he moves to sit there.
It's a tight fit, but he works his way into the space, feeling the heat of Liam's body all down his side, and Harry lets his leg rest over the top of Liam's, thighs and knees overlapping. Liam seems uncomfortable at first. He shifts around, but stills when Louis makes a noise of complaint. He brings his arm from where it had been along the back of the sofa between them, and then realizes how much worse that makes it and puts it back, stretched out awkwardly away from Harry's body.
Uncertainty sinks in quickly, the small amount of confidence he'd managed to work up slipping away at Liam's obvious rejection. Harry looks down to Louis, catches his eye, and Louis widens his own encouragingly, tilting his head subtly in Liam's direction.
Harry sighs and leans back, settling into the cushions and Liam's warmth. He rests his head back against Liam's arm and then snuggles closer yet, lets his head get comfortable on Liam's shoulder. He meets Louis' eyes again, feeling slightly emboldened by the smug smile Louis gives him before he looks toward the television, laughing loudly at something that happens, along with Niall and Zayn.
Liam and Harry stay quiet, while the other lads talk over the sound of whatever they're watching, laughing with stupid enthusiasm every time anything remotely funny happens. It feels right; it feels normal.
“Hey,” Harry whispers, turning his head slightly to get closer to Liam's ear.
Liam glances at Harry, an almost startled look on his face, and looks straight ahead again just as quickly. Harry doesn't look away, and he sees Liam's Adam's apple bob when he swallows and his mouth open as he hesitates, then whispers back, “Hey.” He turns toward Harry just slightly, an unsure smile curving his lips.
Harry returns the smile with a wide one of his own. “Haven't talked much recently,” he says. He feels Liam's shoulder tense behind his head, and he waits to see if Liam will reply or not ― Harry's sure Liam has no interest in broaching the subject of the tension that's been between them, or why it's there, but they've got to start somewhere.
Harry can feel the twitch of his muscles, hear his nails picking at the fabric of the cushions behind their head, and that's Liam's tell. He fidgets so horribly when he's nervous or anxious. “No, it's been a while, hasn't it?” he replies finally, his voice forced into something that's indifferent and calm.
Harry nearly glances at Louis for reassurance again, but then he shakes the impulse off. Instead, he turns his face into Liam's shoulder, drapes an arm over his waist, shifts himself closer, and whispers, “Missed you, Li,” into Liam's neck.
Eventually, Liam brings his arm around Harry, pulls him in the slightest bit more and squeezes his hand around Harry's ribcage. “Missed you too, Haz.”
Harry hums happily and stays right where he is, letting his eyes fall closed to just bask in the warmth, the closeness.
He really has missed Liam. Even though before he spent half of his time pissed off at him, he's missed having Liam there for him whenever he needed him. For a second, he feels the uncertainty build again, wondering what if ― what if it doesn't work, what if it messes everything up, what if Liam doesn't ever talk to him again.
But then he thinks what if ― what if everything works out perfectly, and Liam will be a part of them, an intricate piece to their complex puzzle. He'd always be there, theirs, and Harry would have him around all the time.
The thought doesn't frighten him, having Liam with them constantly, part of their relationship. Maybe it should, maybe he hasn't really considered exactly what it would mean, for all of them, but right now, he wants nothing more. He thinks that if he had both Louis and Liam, he'd never want for anything else ever again.
It's not that Louis isn't enough. Louis is great, and, most of the time, Harry couldn't be happier. Sure, Louis gets on his nerves ― Louis is loud and obnoxious and he just doesn't know when to quit, he gets on everyone's nerves. Harry loves him, unconditionally, without end or expiration. Louis is enough; he's more than enough, frankly, but Harry can't help feeling greedy.
He loves Liam too. Like a friend, but also like someone that could be more, given the chance. Harry thinks, knows that he could fall in love with Liam, there's no doubt in his mind. There's always been something there, it just never had the chance to build itself as Louis had put himself out front and never backed down. Louis was the one that demanded attention from the start, distracting Harry from everyone else. Without Louis, Liam probably would have had his chance. He and Harry have always been close, something special between them, Harry just never realized how deeply those feelings ran. Harry can't remember a time since meeting Liam, besides the past days, that he and Liam went willingly without speaking for any length of time. Even when Harry was being a prat, he got over it quickly enough to be sure not to actually start missing his Liam.
And maybe it's been the problem from the very start, this thing between them. Maybe it's the fact that they all belong together that Harry gets jealous. Maybe this is what he's been waiting for all along.
Or perhaps Harry is just drunk.
He drops his hand from Liam's waist to Louis' face, fingers dancing over his high cheekbones and stubbled jaw and smiling lips. It's strangely arousing, just to be cuddled half in Liam's lap while touching Louis. It's what he wants to be able to do ― have Louis right there, right with him, close, at the same time that he's touching Liam, simply snuggling, or snogging, or shagging.
Louis nips at Harry's fingertips, startling him. He flits his fingers away from Louis' mouth, up to his fringe, skating over it just enough to leave it a bit messy.
“Harry,” Louis warns darkly.
It doesn't even matter that they're staying in, that no one but them will see Louis' hair. Everyone messes up Harry's hair ― he messes it up most often himself ― but no one will dare to touch Louis'. Louis is ridiculously uptight about his hair, and none of them are brave enough to fuck with it, except Harry, who's feeling reckless and clumsy.
Louis must see the smirk that plays across Harry's lips because he tries to pull away before Harry can do the damage, but he's too late and Harry's fingers rake through his hair, breaking up the product in it and making it stand up in weird places.
“You little shit,” Louis says, incredulous, and Harry curls in closer to Liam's side when Louis rolls over, starts moving closer.
Louis crawls right over the top of Liam and Harry squeaks embarrassingly when Louis' fingers dig into his ribs, tickling. When Louis tickles, it's the farthest thing from fun. He's relentless and mean about it, digging his fingers into armpits and under shirts. Harry has no chance at all, despite Liam's protective arm curling around him, his cautionary, “Hey, hey, hey.”
Louis gets a grip on one of Harry's thighs and pulls him half on top of Liam, holds him down and goes in for the kill, somehow getting his hands under Harry's shirt easily. Harry's curled in on himself, his hands tucked tight under his armpits in defense. They're both squirming and jerking around so hard it's a miracle they don't topple right to the floor. Louis doesn't keep at it for too long, thankfully, but Harry still has tears of laughter in his eyes when he's finished.
“Bastard,” Louis grumbles.
Harry wraps his legs around Louis' hips before he can pull away, and Louis gives him the eyebrow, the one that says 'oh really?' He grins wickedly, and Harry realizes just how brilliant he is when a few short moments later Louis is making out with him in Liam's lap.
“Um,” Liam says, flustered, if his restlessly shifting legs beneath Harry are anything to go by.
The other boys are laughing, joking, saying, “Oh, man, Liam, you're going to be stuck there all night,” and, “Hope you like gay porn, dude, because it's about to happen right on top of you.”
Louis doesn't fight fair, and his tongue is in Harry's mouth, making him forget almost everything else instantaneously. The nail of his thumb scratches along the bruise at Harry's throat and Harry moans, cock jerking in his pants at the feeling.
Louis pulls away, triumphant, and Harry glowers before he jolts upright after him and shoves his hands into Louis' hair, messing it completely. Harry laughs at the shocked look on Louis' face, and Louis falls onto him startlingly fast. Harry shrieks, still laughing, but then Louis' at his neck, the unmarked side, and he bites right into the junction of Harry's shoulder. He's cut off mid-laugh, head tilting back as his hips jolt up unbidden. The moan that comes out of his mouth is embarrassing, and everyone quiets. Harry feels his face flame up, hot, knowing they've all just learned something about him that he'd never intended them to find out.
“You guys, seriously,” Liam squeaks.
Harry looks up at him, dazed, sees his face is just as red as Harry feels. Harry pushes at Louis' shoulder and Louis sits back, pulling at the collar of Harry's shirt to see the teethmarks he left. Louis scratches over it, and it's raw, sore. The feeling makes Harry shudder and Louis' smirk widens.
“Don't cream your pants, Hazza,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear him. His hand goes to the placket of Harry's trousers, palming the obvious erection there.
Nobody's laughing. They've all gone uncomfortably quiet, and Harry raises his eyes to Louis, fully intending to silently beg him to stop, but when Lou catches his eye, he glances toward Liam, and Harry follows. Liam's eyes are fixed on Louis' hand, his bottom lip clasped firmly between his teeth.
Harry shifts in Liam's lap, 'til his bum is pressed to the noticeable bulge in Liam's trousers. It could be from anything, really ― the wriggling around in his lap, or from Louis ― but Harry wants to believe it's there for him, more than anything. He wants the blush that's spread beneath the neck of Liam's shirt, down to his collarbones, to be for him.
Louis squeezes Harry's cock one last time before he sits back on his haunches, fixing his hair. He looks like a cat, the way he paws at it, trying to flatten it back down. Shuffling into a more comfortable position, Harry reaches for Louis and unbalances him, pulling him closer again.
“Harry, I swear to God,” Louis warns.
“Just shh,” Harry says. “Let me fix it.” Louis fights him at first, twisting and slapping Harry's hands away from his hair. “Let me fix it, Louis.”
With a huff, Louis settles against Harry's chest and lets him straighten his hair back into place as best as he can. They're basically using Liam as a recliner, and although he doesn't really seem all that bothered, he doesn't look exactly happy about it either.
Harry pauses for a moment to grab hold of Liam's wrist. “Fix his fringe,” Harry instructs, placing Liam's hand against Louis' forehead.
Liam looks confused while Louis just sort of purrs happily at being petted and fussed over. “There,” Harry decides. He grins at Liam and sort of tangles their fingers together to pull his away, and then leaves them twined together awkwardly.
“Drinks?” Louis asks everyone as he pops up off the sofa.
Harry grabs his beer, and it's still mostly full so he shakes his head. Zayn and Niall both say yes. Liam doesn't answer so Harry reaches back again to grab Liam's too, and it's nearly empty and Harry calls for a beer for Liam as well.
“No, thank you,” Liam amends. “I'm a bit tired, actually, should probably turn in soon.”
Harry scoffs, and Louis yells from the kitchen that that's nonsense. The other boys sort of mumble agreements, but neither of them are particularly paying attention to anything besides the television.