Work Text:
March 3rd 2015
Harry pulled his cap further over his eyes and adjusted his face mask, trying to redirect any unwanted attention.
The London streets were as busy as ever, but the weather was nice for the first time in years, and Harry felt cooped up at home in the midst of writing his second album. Mitch was driving him insane with deadlines, and management was up his ass about interviews and tour—
So, he needed a break. A distraction to clear his head, and maybe he could finish writing.
He walked up to a bike leaned against a wall and scanned the code, like he always does, paying for the bright green bike.
That’s how he ended up peacefully cycling on his bike, Airpods in his ears. Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’ on loop.
Harry wasn’t sure where his mind was. He was enjoying the brisk London breeze blowing through him, ignoring the few stares he got from locals who might have recognized him, even under a surgical mask, but it wasn’t until his ride was stopped unceremoniously did Harry snap back to reality. One moment Harry was cycling around a sharp corner, and the next his bike was coming to an unexpected stop as he collided with something— or rather, someone.
CRASH
Harry came to a stop, toppling off the bike and to the ground with the grace of a bull in a China shop, skidding his knee on the cement and losing his hat and glasses in the process.
“For fuck sake!”
“I am so, so sorry—“ Harry was on his feet in seconds, ignoring the gravel digging into his skin and his new scrape stinging in favor of helping the person he knocked to the ground.
“Are you alright—“ Harry stopped as he reached out a hand to the stranger, finally getting a good look at him. It wasn’t until the man looked up at Harry with (mildly pissed off) blue eyes, shaggy hair and tanned skin did Harry really process what he had done.
Shit. He’s hot.
The stranger that he unceremoniously hit with his bike, was wearing joggers and a baggy sweatshirt—no doubt just on his way to the shop or something simple before Harry turned the corner. He didn’t take Harry’s offered hand as he stood, brushing himself off and wincing in pain.
“Fine, Mate,” the guy scoffed.
“Are you hurt?”
“You ran me over with your bike.”
Harry grimaced. He pulled down his mask to say something— probably to apologize again— when recognition flickered behind the stranger’s eyes.
Harry knew that look anywhere. It was a look people got before a bunch of fans stormed up to him and trapped him between camera flashes and invasive questions.
“Do I know you?” The boy asked, his eyes narrowing at Harry.
“Uh—“ Harry tensed at the question,” I’m not sure.”
He further inspected Harry, his brows scrunched in concentration as he did so. Harry tried to think of a way out of the awkward situation, quietly panicking at the prospect of this ending up on every update account. Harry glanced down to where he had hit the man, noticing a dark tire mark over his pristine shoe laces, no doubt from the accident. Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest.
“Are you alright? I was going kind of fast I—“
“Seriously, you have this whole incognito thing going on. Are you just trying to hide the fact you’re an awful cyclist?” The stranger interrupted. Harry blinks away his confusion, raising a brow at the attractive stranger. (ie: victim)
Harry’s sure he’s gone red, feeling more awkward than he should about the situation, now acutely aware how embarrassing this was. (And now how he was being interrogated by this said stranger, but he supposes he deserves that for not looking where he is going.) Harry couldn’t help but think about the album he was avidly avoiding with this little adventure, and battled with the decision about whether he should tell Mitch about this or not.
There was a long awkward pause, where Harry was able to hear his own breathing unsure how to reply to him. He could feel the weight of the boy’s gaze as he observed the scene before him like he was taking mental notes. Harry debated leaving before things could get more humiliating, but before he had a chance to make a break for it, the boy was extending his hand.
“Louis.” Harry carefully took his hand in his and shook it. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of asking.”
“Harry,” he replied with a small smile, although hesitantly.
“Just Harry? No last name? No mysterious backstory?”
As they pulled their hands away, Harry nervously chuckled. “Something like that.”
“Well, Harry, no-last-name, do you regularly run people over?” Louis rested his hands on his hips, inspecting his dirty joggers and the marked laces from the tire.
“Look, I’m really sorry, I’ll buy you new shoes—”
“Relax mate,” Louis reassured, dismissing his offer,” I’m fine. Really.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, picking up the discarded glasses and hat left on the side of the road in the commotion. “At least let me buy you lunch or something. I need to prove I’m not a complete disaster.”
“Are you asking me on a date? Aren’t we moving kind of fast? You ran into me only a few seconds ago,” Louis smirked, watching the words dawn on Harry.
“Sorry I—”
“I’m only joking,” Louis replied smugly,” But that was cute, so I accept your offer.”
Harry wanted to run into oncoming traffic. Is he going on a date with this guy now? They had just met, but Louis was making him more nervous than anyone has before, which was saying a lot. He wasn’t sure if it was the circumstances, or if it was the whole casual grunge look Louis had going on that made Harry’s palms sweaty.
“Well, I could go for a drink. Coffee?”
“Tea,” Harry replied trying to conceal his excitement. He was way too eager to keep talking to this stranger for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
“Posh,” Louis rolled his eyes, but his crooked smile betrayed his tone. Harry laughed in return, deciding that maybe this (hot) stranger he hit with his bike was alright.
“Do you like coffee?” Harry asked.
“Nah.”
Harry couldn’t help the giggle that jumped out of his throat, covering his mouth with his hand. “Seriously? Then why did you ask?”
“An experiment,” Louis replied flippantly,” And you hit me with your bike. I’m mooching off you, babe.” Louis shrugged, throwing a wink in his direction. Harry thought he was going to die, trying to suppress the butterflies from erupting in his stomach.
After internally debating whether it was a good idea to take this Louis character out for a cuppa, Harry relented, deciding that it was too bright outside to get kidnapped on the side of the street. Probably. And Louis was a relatively normal guy. But then again so was Ted Bundy.
Harry could picture Paul’s face when he tells him what he got himself into, but he wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity.
Harry let Louis lead the way. They continued their trek to the shop on foot, Harry ditching the bike. He removed the mask, but kept his face shielded with his hat and glasses, trying his best to keep his head down and avoid people’s gaze as to not draw attention to Louis as well.
The walk was brisk, the midday sun beating down on their backs, and Harry pushed down the thought that it was one of the nicest days he has seen all spring; it was convenient he happened to bump into Louis. Honestly, Harry didn’t know what he was doing. This was probably reckless and slightly irresponsible, but he owes Louis at least a drink— plus, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t sticking around because he didn’t mind being on a spontaneous ‘date’ with this stranger he met.
The cafe was quaint and rather quiet, a hole in the wall kind of establishment. Bland music played in the background as they entered, potted plants hung from the ceiling, lights and other decorations lined the wall, giving it a rustic charm. Small round tables splayed directly in front of the shop had a few people enjoying a drink with a cigarette between their lips, scrolling aimlessly on their phones or some out for brunch with their friends.
Louis smiled noticing the way Harry’s eyes lit up, taking in the atmosphere of the cafe. Harry hesitated before removing his sunglasses indoors, sticking his hands in his pockets, trying to keep a calm exterior.
A teen at the register barely even blinked at them when they walked in, too busy looking bored, eyes locked on the clock, no doubt waiting to go home.
Louis ordered Yorkshire, and Harry an English Breakfast (with three sugars and a splash of milk.) Harry slid the barista twenty pounds, and told the kid to keep the change, taking their cups to a table in the back corner
“So,” Harry cleared his throat,” Do you come here often?”
Louis takes a sip of his tea, watching Harry carefully over the rim of the cup. “You could say that. My friend Niall happens to own this place.”
Harry nodded, also taking a sip of his drink, ignoring the fact it was too hot, and burned his throat slightly as it went down in favor of keeping a relaxed composure.
The two fell into silence, and Harry couldn’t help feeling exposed out in the open like this. For the most part civilians leave him alone, but every once in a while one fan causes a crowd of them, which draws attention to the paps who were out for him. With a second studio album in production and news of a tour, his numbers were sky rocketing, and so was the bounty hanging over him; but he had to admit, it was nice to talk to someone other than his small circle of friends or management and actually have them be normal about him.
“What were you doing earlier? On your ride I mean,” Louis asked, sparking up another conversation. Harry faltered, unsure of what to say. He couldn’t exactly tell him the full truth.
“I needed a breath of fresh air. Work has been… A lot recently, I guess.”
Louis hummed in response, thinking over what was said not pushing any further. “So you have a high pressure job. You’re either a government spy, or one of those poor bastards that works in an office.”
Harry shook his head, making a show out of rolling his eyes. “What do you do?”
“Eh, I’m a footballer sometimes. I’m still trying to graduate Uni though.”
Harry always wanted to go to Uni if music didn’t work out. He often wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t gotten lucky and made a big break when he was sixteen right out of school; now nearly at the age of twenty two.
Harry meant to reply, but he was cut off by a girl no older than sixteen tapping him on the shoulder, redirecting his attention. She was holding her phone in shaking hands, and Harry immediately felt sympathy for her.
“Hey, c-can I get a picture with you?” She quietly asked.
Louis glanced between he and the girl, looking on with curiosity. Harry didn’t want to turn her away, feeling bad for her (obviously)very nervous state. Ignoring the fact that he is now going to have to explain to Louis why a random teenager just approached him, he replied with a simple,” Sure.”
He took the selfie with her, giving her a quick side hug before watching her scurry off. Harry was watching her leave, dreading facing the person across from him. He was going to find out sooner or later, even if it just because his face pops up on the telly from time to time.
When he was finally brave enough to make eye contact with Louis again, he took a deep breath, preparing for the reaction. “Listen, the thing is—”
“It’s fine, Harry. I know who you are.” Louis held up a hand, stopping Harry before he could continue.
Harry blinked, trying to keep his jaw from falling to the floor. “Wait…you recognized me this entire time?”
“Yeah,” Louis replied nonchalantly,” I mean, it’s not like I was going to go full fan girl on you.”
Harry was slightly taken aback at Louis’ nonchalance and casual tone. “So no selfie or autograph?”
Louis smirked, leaning back in the metal chair. “Would that make you feel more at ease if I asked for one?”
Harry let out an airy laugh, shaking his head softly.
“Not to mention it’s hard to fangirl when my knee still stings from kissing the concrete,” Louis shrugged.
“Hey,” Harry feigned hurt,” I did apologize for that.”
“Yeah, yeah, probably just because you don’t want me to run right to the press. Imagine the headline: Pop Star Runs Over Pedestrian.”
Harry grinned. “That’s not— I mean, no. Not exactly the image I’m going for.”
Louis playfully rolled his eyes, fiddling with the spoon in his tea, stirring the beverage. “Alright, Mr. World Super star; Tell me; why were you really cycling around London like a tourist?”
Harry hid a soft smile behind his hand. “I’m not a world super star—“
“—Wait!” Louis shouted, interrupting Harry with wide eyes.
Harry’s heart sank.
“What? What’s wrong?” Harry whipped his head around, looking at the shop to see any signs of danger.
“You have dimples.”
Louis’ face melted into a grin, smirking at the way Harry flushed a dark red. Louis reached out and poked his dimple with his pointer finger, leaving Harry with a pounding heart when Louis’ hand lingered on his cheek.
“Are you serious? I thought it was urgent!” Harry groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. He could feel his face radiating with heat, Louis laughed softly in the background, taking a sip from his tea.
“It is urgent! You know that’s millions of fan girls’ phone wallpapers, right?”
“I think I regret buying you this drink.”
“Oh come off it. You must know you’re like…” Louis paused, searching for the right word, “Britain’s sweetheart.”
Louis’ laugh was warm and teasing and Harry could feel himself getting dizzy. It didn’t help the fact Harry was pretty sure he was already going to die from embarrassment. If the floorboards could swallow him whole, he would hugely prefer it.
“Surely you’re used to people fawning over your every move?” Louis said smugly, a teasing expression on his face.
Harry sighed dramatically and covered his eyes peaking out through his fingers to look at the other man, “I hate you.”
Louis dissolved into a laugh and Harry felt the chuckles escaping his mouth too. When Louis smiled his eyes lit up, and his nose crinkled in a way that made Harry stomach ignite with butterflies, each batting their wings behind his rib cage at the sight.
Ugh, why was the stranger he hit with his bike attractive?! He had questions. Mostly: how did Louis know who he was? Why didn’t he say anything? But Harry kept the intrigue to himself.
Harry let their laughs lull and the coffee shop, the outside chatter from other patrons begin to fade in.
“You’re not really anything like what I expected you to be like,” Louis says softly. Harry looks up at him, tilting his head.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,“ Harry comments, nervously.
“No, I mean— you’re just a regular guy, not this untouchable thing.” Louis gestures to Harry’s person, his street clothes and casual setting.
“Yeah…funny how that works,” Harry rested his head on his fist, staring down at his tea like it was the most interesting thing in the world to him, “not many people really try to figure that out if I’m being honest.”
Louis frowned, his eyes sad, “I get it.”
Although both he and Harry knew he never truly would.
Harry cleared his throat, changing the subject to something lighter.
They talked about Louis’ family, which Harry was surprised to learn had two sets of twins. Harry talked about his mum and sister, throwing in stories about his best friends, Liam, and Ed. Louis only fangirls slightly at the confirmation that, ‘yes it is Ed Sheeran’.
The two were getting ready to leave, still engaged in their conversations, now on a topic about Louis’ friend, Zayn, who is an art major and writes music like Harry, when Harry picked up on a distinct noise— one he would recognize anywhere. The sounds of cameras flashing.
Harry stopped mid conversation with Louis, brushing off Louis’ concerned questions, looking through the large shop windows to observe the paparazzi that had caught up to him. Quickly doing his password, Harry opened his phone and went immediately to Twitter.
The selfie of him and that girl was already posted all over the site, various fan and update accounts alike plastering the picture on their pages. This was like a moth to a flame; his location was leaked, and now it was only time before pictures of he and Louis at the table began to circle around.
“Harry, is there something—“
“We have to go, like, now,” Harry jumped up, gathering his things,” We are going to get boxed in if we don’t leave.”
Louis jumped to his feet, though Harry could see the panic and confusion on his face, he followed Harry out the side door and away from the cameras. Harry grabbed Louis’ wrist in his hand and tugged him behind a dumpster in the nearest alley.
Once they were relatively safe, Harry jumped onto a random updates account and refreshed it until another image popped up.
“What is that?—“
Harry clicked on the picture, immediately feeling his stomach hit his feet. It was a picture of him at the table talking to Louis. Luckily Louis’ face wasn’t visible, only the back of his head, but more pictures were bound to leak. He refreshed once more, scrolling through tens of posts each caption ranging from wondering where the singer has been, to speculating on who the mystery person was.
‘Who the hell is he with ??!?’ One post read, and several comments under the same post had pointed out how it looked like a date. Harry sighed, agitated. He knew this was going too well. There was no way the press would leave him alone, especially this close to the tour.
Louis must have also been checking socials, because he looks kinda pale and a lot shocked. He’s doing so aimlessly, flicking his thumb through instagram posts.
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Harry sighs, his voice low. Louis powers his phone off and turns to face the other boy.
“Hey, life was getting kind of predictable anyway. I don’t mind,” He nudged Harry with his shoulder, gently, smiling softly up at him when Harry caught his eye,” Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I think I’m okay,” Harry says after a moment.
Before Louis can comment though, Harry picks up on the sound of people getting closer. He didn’t know if it was someone looking for him or not, but he wasn’t going to risk it. Harry gestured to Louis for him to follow, once again taking him by the wrist and ducking out of the alley.
The two sprinted down the street to a rather empty public garage off a side road, deciding people probably wouldn’t expect them to hide out there.
A few times fans had caught Harry in the streets, asking to talk to him, which he had to politely decline and rush past them as quickly as he could without being rude. Louis was just behind him, somehow Harry’s hand going from around Louis’ wrist to holding his hand as they navigated the parking garage.
Harry was out of breath when he leaned up against the concrete wall, holding his chest like it would make his lungs stop throbbing.
“Harry?”
Harry waved Louis’ concerns off, taking a moment to breathe.
“Asthma,” Harry said, his voice raspy. Louis nodded, looking determined.
“Stay close,” Louis muttered, his hand sliding around Harry’s lower back and securing his waist. Harry ignored the way his heart almost jumped out of his throat at the contact, instead focusing on the task at hand. He was starting to feel light headed, so he was thankful for Louis grounding him and practically hauling ass to a less open space.
They finally reached a floor with only a couple of cars, and decided to find a quiet corner to call Harry’s driver, Paul, when the voices of fans echoed off the wall of the large parking garage. One moment Harry was standing upright, and the next Louis was yanking him down to the ground, pushing him behind a nearby SUV’s wheel so he was out of sight.
“What?—“ Harry intended to berate Louis for not warning him, but Louis was slapping a hand over Harry’s mouth, furrowing his brows accusingly at him.
“Shut up, Harold, I saw someone a row over.” He whispered.
Harry remained silent as Louis slowly removed his hand, but he didn’t hide his glare. He wanted to ask where the new nickname came from, but decided against it as it could wait until they were no longer being hunted for sport. Or for the tabloids.
Same thing.
“I swear I saw them come down here!” A voice said.
Their bodies were pressed up against each other, Harry trapped in between Louis and the car, the boy’s hand rested next to his head so he was secured.
Harry and Louis stayed in that position until they were in the clear, both letting out a sigh of relief. Louis carefully stood up, still looking around for another teenager trying to charge Harry for pictures, and pulled Harry up onto his feet.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Louis fixed his fringe, not breaking eye contact with the star.
Harry shrugged, trying to ignore the fact his back was pressed up against the SUV and Louis was standing close enough for Harry to smell cologne and a faint scent of cigarettes on his collar.
“You get used to it.”
Louis didn’t really seem to like that answer, his face dropping. “That doesn’t really seem like something you should get used to. All the running and hiding…surely you must be going mad from time to time?”
Harry thinks for a moment before responding, looking down at the space between them, noticing that it was only a few inches and the top of Louis’ shoes were now touching his. “Yeah, well, it has its perks.”
“Right. Like hiding out in a parking garage with me?” Louis teases ignoring Harry’s blush. “So, what now? Do you leave me to fend for myself?”
“I suppose I owe you another drink sometime,” Harry replied.
“Trying to keep me around, eh?” Louis wiggled his eyebrows, mockingly. Harry couldn’t help but smile warmly.
“Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t want to go back to work.”
Louis chuckled, his airy laugh floating through the parking garage, making Harry’s hands sweat. “You’re a bit of a mess, aren’t you?”
“Possibly,” Harry pretends to think, tilting his head. Paul had been alerted, and now all they had to do was wait here until their asses were brought to safety, and Paul lectures Harry’s ear off.
Louis was looking down at his lips, and Harry could feel the tension in the air thicken as their chests were pressed up against each other.
“My morning was supposed to go way differently,” Louis mutters, not taking his eyes off Harry. Harry brings a hand up to Louis’ shoulder and rests it there.
“How many times do I have to tell you sorry?” Harry smirked.
“A few more times would do,” Louis shrugs. Harry allows his hand to slide up to Louis’ cheek and he pulls him in, the shorter boys’ hands resting on the car behind Harry, pressing him further into the door.
Harry hesitates, because while this is not the first kiss he’s had with someone that’s lead to a fling, this feels different. Slowly Louis connects their lips and Harry thinks his knees are going to give out. The kiss is soft, the warmth of Louis’ mouth rested on his lips, and Harry found himself completely lost in the moment.
He often read books and watched shitty movies about love at first sight, and all that cheesy shit— but as Harry cupped Louis’ face in his hands and deepened the kiss, Harry thought that maybe he understood why people were so charmed by cheesy romance novels.
They pulled away after a long moment, both with blown wide eyes and sloppy smirks on this faces.
“I don’t usually kiss on the first date,” Louis is smiling, his body still inches from Harry’s.
“I seem to have that effect on people.” Harry is grinning like a lovesick idiot, coming down from the high of the kiss, when reality comes back to smack him in the face. “Paul is going to kill me.”
“Paul?”
“That’s my driver,” He replies sheepishly,” The one going to save our asses.”
As if on cue a sleek black car with tinted windows pulled onto their garage floor and Harry waved him down.
A man with scruffy facial hair and kind eyes despite his intimidating demeanor greeted them as the two slid into the back seat.
“Louis,” the boy extended his hand in greeting. Paul took a good look at the two of them and scoffed, rolling up the divider so they were alone in the back,” Right, my bad.”
“He’s a good guy…just tired of my shit,” Harry explains, grinning easily at Louis’ mildly offended expression.
“I’m taking that personally.”
The two lapsed into easy conversation, as if the whole kissing thing hadn’t happened, talking about life. Louis went on about football and this guy on his team he can’t stand— Harry found himself entertained by the story as they flew through the London streets.
Once they had reached Louis’ flat, Harry pushed down the dejected feeling of letting him go. With one hand on the handle, and looking at Harry sadly, Louis perked up.
“Pass me your phone I’ll put my number in, lad,” Louis took the iPhone in his hand gratefully, and typed in his information, making sure to include a small smiley face at the end of his constant name.
“Thanks, Louis,” Harry took his phone back, and bit his lip in order to fight off a face splitting smile.
“I should be thanking you,” Louis says,” Not for the bike part though. Gonna need to wash my shoes.”
Harry rolled his eyes, shoving Louis softly,“asshole.”
“Hey, you kept me around for the past few hours,” Louis winked, and Harry didn’t resist the sappy look he got on his face.
“Have a good night, Lou,” Harry leaned over to open the boy’s door, but was stopped short with another brief kiss.
“Night, Harry,” Louis jumped out of the vehicle and bent down so Harry could still see him from where he was sitting,” so I’ll pick you up Friday?”
Harry bit back a look of surprise,” I— yeah, why not?”
“What? Thought you could get rid of me?”
Harry barked out a laugh, “I’ll text you.”
Louis shut the door, and Harry watched the boy walk up to his flat and unlock the door, greeting a large dog that came skirting around the corner nearly knocking Louis off his balance. Harry sighed in content, sinking into the car’s leather seats, holding his phone like a teenager talking to his crush for the first time.
Paul rolled down the divider as he pulled out of the area, eyeing the boy from his rear view mirror.
“He’s a character.”
“Yeah,” Harry replies breathlessly, “He is.”
July 16th 2017
“Ah, morning, lads!” Niall chimed from behind the counter, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he cleaned up.
“Mornin’, Ni,” Louis says through a yawn,”Harry wants us to go to some lame event so I need a pick me up.”
Harry rolls his eyes, shoving a wad of bank notes towards Niall who tries to give them back.
‘They play this game every other morning,’ Louis thinks, fondly. He’s glad his boyfriend and best friend got along; their joint little group was one that Louis knew would stick with him for a long time.
After they ordered and Harry was already at a table, eating his tea with a side of toast, Niall stopped Louis.
“So, you gonna do it?” He asked, drying off a few mugs and putting them into cupboards.
“Shut up, twat, he’s right over there,” Louis scowled at his friend’s dumbassery.
“Come on, he’s way too invested in that stupid book,” Niall sighed, looking over at Harry with his nose in a Bukowski poetry collection.
Louis leaned in so he could whisper to his best mate,” I’ve got the ring and everything, I just need a time and place.”
“Maybe this time you should hit him with a Lime bike.”
“You’re an annoying little prick, you know that? How do you have a girlfriend?” Louis bit back, but there was no real heat behind his words.
“You took your time,” Harry commented, not looking up from his book,” Niall giving you grief?”
“When is he not?” Louis took the seat across from him, getting to work on his tea. He could see Harry’s smirk even with his face buried in the pages, and Louis felt lighter this morning. He could imagine life like this. If he could live next to Harry and go to little cafes in the early morning hours to watch the sunrise, he thinks that’s all he would need.
Harry glanced up from his poetry, raising an inquisitive brow at his boyfriend.
“What?” Louis asked, furrowing his brows.
“Why do you always stare at me like that?” Harry narrowed his eyes playfully.
“Please. I’m just trying to understand how I got so incredibly lucky.”
Harry’s cheeks turned a dark rose shade, just like they did two years ago when they met.
“You sappy, Bastard.” Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. Louis returned it.
“Yeah, well, you love it.”
Harry laughed, but didn’t argue, instead allowing the conversation to float between topics like it always does.
Louis thinks believing in fate is stupid, but how he ended up on that specific street corner the day Harry ran into him was beyond him— it felt too good to be true.
Harry was perfect. They were perfect.