One Month Later
**
“Okay, no peaking,” Louis says for what has to be the tenth time.
Harry has his eyes firmly shut beneath the blindfold. “Couldn’t if I tried.”
He’s holding Louis’ hand, getting led towards his supposed birthday present. He’s been trying all day to guess what it is but Louis, the sneaky little shit, is far too good at keeping secrets, unlike Harry himself.
He woke this morning surprised to find Louis already out of bed, and in the kitchen actually cooking breakfast. And not only was it actually edible, but it tasted good too. Amazing.
What followed was the most mindblowing morning sex they’ve had––maybe not ever, but it definitely ranked pretty high. It involved toys (Harry’s latest obsession. Started with a joke-Christmas gift from Nick, a gift card to one of the local adult stores, and Harry swears he wasn’t going to use it, but then he caught Louis on the website later that night and well, one thing led to another and suddenly his top draw is stocked full with neon) if he’s honest, it does add an interesting new dynamic to their sex life, and sometimes they take longer because they’re figuring out how to use certain things, and it’s fun. It should always be fun.
Afterwards they spent an inhumanly long time making out on the couch, because the other three were out so they didn’t have to worry about their level of decency. Not that they often do, anyway.
So ultimately, it’s been the best birthday ever, all things considered. Though, it doesn’t really take a lot for Harry to be happy when Louis is involved. He’s probably into him an unnatural amount, but, ah, life is short and – oh, Zayn would kill him – you only live once.
Harry did remain a level of suspicion when Louis was peering out the window and up at the sky every few minutes, frowning a little (adorably) whenever clouds would roll in. He also pushed Harry down on his back and tangled their mouths together whenever Harry would ask him about it, not that he was complaining in the slightest.
So when they heard a vehicle outside, and Louis outright leapt over the couch to grab a blindfold and pull it over Harry’s head, he was a little concerned. Not really though, because it’s Louis, and he’d gladly jump off a cliff with his eyes open if Louis promised to catch him at the bottom.
At this point, all he can tell is that they’ve gone out the front door. He can hear a loud engine running, smell exhaust fumes in the air, and feel Louis squeezing his hand in excitement.
“Oh my God, did you buy me a monster truck?” Harry asks with fake enthusiasm. “Every little boys dream!”
Louis jabs him with his elbow. “Shut up. Take your blindfold off.”
So Harry does, and parked in their driveway is, in fact, the crappiest rental truck he’s ever seen. It’s got Dave’s Automotive Rentals’ faded logo on the side and it’s…
It’s a shitty rental truck. Oh.
That’s not what catches him off-guard though, it’s that, posing nonchalant on the back are Niall, Zayn and Liam, in fancy suits, admittedly looking like actual models. Harry is speechless. He absolutely adores these boys.
“Surprise!” Liam yells, breaking his pout-like-no-one-is-watching pose to jump off the back and hug Harry, in all his waist-coat and polished-shoes glory. “Happy birthday, H.”
“This is…” Harry looks at Louis over Liam’s shoulder. “You remembered.”
“Of course,” Louis says with a shrug. “Little hard to forget when you were so descriptive. Liam said you might cry if it’s not perfect.”
Liam lets Harry go. “Well it’s probably true. You cry about everything.”
Harry frowns. “Thanks Liam.”
“You do though! Last week when we were having lunch, you only had enough bread to feed one bird and you got really upset–“
“Is this Make Fun Of Over-Emotional Harry day?” Harry crosses his arms.
Liam smiles and kisses Harry on the cheek. “I do it because I love you.”
Niall is next to offer his affections, holding a hand to his heart. “Harry, my love, my oldest friend, my partner in crime, the Rose to my Jack, the Gabriella to my Troy, my one and only, my–“
“You’ve literally insulted everyone else here, but thank you,” Harry says, hugging Niall.
“Mm, yeah. The oldest friend thing was a bit of a stretch considering I’ve known Liam since the days of VCR’s and bleached tips,” Niall says, stepping back from the hug. “Me and you did that retreat in Thailand though, so spiritually, we’re older friends.”
“Spiritually, I don’t give a fuck,” Liam says, unhappy. Niall punches him softly in the arm and mutters, “drama queen.”
“Happy birthday, mate,” Zayn says, one-armed hug, squeezing the side of his neck. “You like the painting?”
Zayn had left a painting in the living room, pink bow attached to the top of the canvas and a cutesy card detailing the work – a note above it stating: only read if you really want to know. Self-interpretation can be more effective sometimes. So Harry didn’t read it. But he thinks he got a pretty good idea, given that the title was actually one the texts he sent to Zayn a while back, before Louis had told him he loved him, before they even went on a date, where Zayn had said: you know he’s going to freak out at some point. Fair warning. Hold onto him, and Harry had replied: always will.
That’s the title of the painting that now sits in a prime place in the living room, where the afternoon sunrays hit perfectly and he can see it first thing in the morning when he comes downstairs.
“I love it. Thank you,” Harry says, smiling back, both about the painting and in admiration that Zayn is wearing an undone bow tie and suit with a slight blue shimmer in amongst the dark black shade. It does him wonders.
Harry is incredibly relieved that things worked out the way they did with the whole Manchester Situation. Not only because he gets to stay living with Louis, but because he’s sure if he did actually leave, Zayn would have hunted him down and destroyed him with just his glare. So despite things being better than ever between them, Harry really only narrowly avoided imminent death.
“C’mon, let’s get dressed,” Louis says, tugging Harry along by the hand.
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?” Harry asks, frowning at the thought of Louis changing out of his adorable sweater.
“It doesn’t fit your theme, Harold. I’m all for accuracy.”
In the end, Louis still lets Harry pick out the blazer he likes most, a maroon one, with a white shirt that he buttons himself, and Harry puts on a plain black suit with pin stripes running up the sides.
Back outside, the sky is threaded through in a swirl of grey-blue and orange, clear as ever. Harry can’t believe how lucky he is; his friends voices floating through the air, can’t believe how much he loves them, and then there’s his boyfriend who literally looks like a prince. Suddenly, lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Let’s get this baby on the road,” Liam says, and Zayn snorts.
They file in, Liam driving, Niall battling with the ancient radio that only picks up one frequency, Zayn gets in the back and Louis holds open the door for Harry. “After you.”