Chapter Text
He can’t be here.
Knuckles white against the steering wheel, sucking in one calming breath after the other, Louis tells himself on repeat; don’t kill her, don’t kill her. She’s 19 years old, doing normal 19-year-old things. It’s not her fault. He forces his fingers into the collar of his button down, loosening the suffocating tie.
Four hours into a late evening at the office, going cross eyed from scrolling spreadsheets and combing through client financials, the buzz of his phone cut through the silence, his mom on the other line in a panic because his younger sister, Savannah, was not in her room.
Even though she’s 19 years old, he understands why she worries. He tried to calm her, but she was distraught – his fault. So, he begrudgingly gave up on spreadsheets and promised his mom that he would find her.
He did not expect when he pulled up to the location where he tracked Savannah’s phone, that it would be the worst kind of party. Cars line the streets for blocks, and each time Louis had to circle around, his annoyance ticked up a notch.
Finally parked, he can hear the music blasting through the walls of the house, and see the strobe lights flickering through the windows, while piles of drunk college kids are scattered in the front lawn doing everything from keg stands to beer pong, to... handstand twerking against the wall?
Right.
He shakes his head, unable to stall any longer, and flings his car door open, immediately sliding his hand into his pocket and tracing his thumb across the raised texture of his sobriety coin.
Two years clean.
No parties – No bars. It’s on his list.
He hates that he’s breaking a rule - the first one broken in two years' time. But he’s fine. His mom and sister are important to him. He owes it to his mom to make sure Savannah is safe.
Inside feels even more suffocating than his tie. There is a wall of people jammed against the entryway, bodies rubbing against each other, and now him. He can’t breathe without being assaulted by the overwhelming smell of alcohol and weed, and he doesn’t have to guess what’s splattering all over his shoes and shirt from the red solo cups of sloshy partygoers.
Searching feels useless. He’s struggling to see anything through the strobing lights, people are shoving him, his shoes are sticking to the floor. He’ll either have a seizure or end up punching someone before he makes his way out of here with Savannah.
After what feels like an eternity, he can breathe again after he’s spit out on the other side of the crowd. Shirt wet and clinging to his skin, he scans a back patio full of even more students scattered across the lawn and in the pool. He’s getting exponentially more pissed off by the second. He’s too old for this shit, and he feels like an idiot in his stupid khakis and button down. People are looking at him like he’s someone’s dad here to crash the party, which he supposes he kind of is.
Probably ten minutes into what feels like a futile search, he catches a quick glimpse of Savannah in the hot tub with a girl snuggled up to her chest, her head thrown back in laughter. His view is soon blocked by the crowd, but he snatches up a stray towel and makes his way over, the hint of relief doing little to tame his frustration.
Just when he thinks he’s reached maximum levels of rage, he stands before Savannah and comes to the terrifying conclusion that the girl she’s with is not a girl at all. It’s Harry fucking Styles, with his stupid man-bun and his stupid dimples.
Harry Styles – the new intern under his guidance that he did not choose, son of the CFO/Co-owner, spoiled brat, and professional douche bag, responsible for at least 20 of his gray hairs forcing their way out early. Harry grates every cell in Louis’ body on the daily; showing up late, texting, taking selfies, obnoxiously chewing gum, and complaining about work he doesn’t even do.
And now he’s giggling and flirting with his sister.
Oh. Fuck no.
He almost feels bad about the force with which he throws the towel at his sister.
“Louis?!?!” He can hear Savannah’s shriek over the music.
He’s not looking at her though, because he’s staring daggers into Harry. Harry’s green eyes are on him too, and he sits back causally, opening his arms across the back of the hot tub, displaying an upper body full of tattoos Louis didn’t know he had, and a tiny barbell pierced right through his nipple.
He almost says the ‘fuck me’ out loud.
Louis’ eyes quickly flick back up to his face, where he’s greeted with the smug smile he knew would be waiting for him.
Asshole.
Savannah scatters out of the hot tub and covers herself with the towel, high pitched voice squealing something about being 19, but Louis won’t look away from Harry's gaze. Not first. He can pretend all day that there’s no attraction simmering underneath the rage – that seeing Harry half naked, wet, hair in a bun, cheeks pink from the heat of the hot tub isn’t breaking something open in him.
It’s only when another girl pushes herself into Harry’s orbit and his attention is easily taken away, that Louis can focus on his sister storming off and disappearing into the crowd. He swallows the overwhelming urge to turn Harry’s face into a punching bag – or bend him over, he’s not sure – and goes after his sister. He follows her blonde head weaving through the crowd, and out the front door where he catches up and tugs lightly on her arm.
“What are you doing here?!” She yells, spinning around to face him.
“Mom was worried Sav. You can’t just run off like that.”
“I’m 19!”
“You live at home! Her house her rules.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!”
“Sav... you know what she dealt with... with me. You can’t worry her like that.”
“So, because you couldn’t control yourself, I have to live with the consequences?!”
Louis feels the fight drain right out of him. He knows it’s not fair to her, but he can’t help the way he’s damaged his mom. “I know Sav. It’s not fair. You’re right.” His fingers run across the coin in his pocket. “But you can’t just disappear like that. Give her something, yeah? Even if you have to lie.”
Savannah sighs heavily but starts walking to the car, leaving Louis on the porch.
“Sav, where are your clothes? Don’t you have a bag or something?” He has to follow her, cause she’s not waiting up.
“I’ll have Harry bring it to class.” She waves him away and stands stubbornly by the passenger door. Well, that answers his next question, which was ‘how the fuck do you know that asshole?’
The ride home is quiet, almost 45 minutes to where his mom and Sav live, and Louis has been snuffing the words in his throat, but they finally escape.
“So, Harry Styles... bit old for you...What’s going on there?”
Her head snaps over so fast that he can see the movement from his peripheral vision. “How do you know him?”
“He’s one of my interns. If you can even call it that.”
“Harry’s my friend.” She says, stubbornly. “He’s really sweet.”
“Riiiight.” That’s unlikely. He’s just charming her with his stupid doe eyes and his stupid big toothed smile... and dimples. Fake - a ploy to fuck any girl who looks his way.
He can’t tell Sav that he shows up to the office with a neck full of hickeys every week. Or that he’s constantly texting girls instead of doing his job, spending his lunch away from the office and coming back late, looking like he did everything but have lunch.
“Be careful with him....” He warns.
“Oh my God Lou... it’s not like that. We’re just friends!”
He pulls into the driveway and slams the car into park, silence filling the car again, until Savannah speaks.
“Are you gonna tell Mom?”
“I don’t know. Are you drunk? High?” He inspects her face when she looks at him. He can't tell by smell because he’s reeking up the car from whatever spilled onto his shirt, but her eyes are clear and she seems aware.
“No, actually. Thanks to Harry. Who is like... the only person who respected it when I said I didn’t want anything.”
“Oh, now you’re gonna tell me he’s some kind of saint?!” Louis wouldn’t believe it for a second. “He was wasted Sav.”
“Yeah, cause he was drinking out of my cup all night when people kept handing me drinks.”
“Alright, ok. Whatever Sav. I won’t tell mom. This time. But if it happens again...”
“Fuck!!” She interrupts, slamming her head back onto the seat.
“What?”
“My phone... I left it by the hot tub!”
“Sav... you’re joking.”
"Sorry dad I was a bit distracted with you stomping into a fucking party in front of all my friends. But Mom will kill me if I lose it... we need to get it.”
“Mom is gonna kill you if you’re not inside in the next five minutes.”
“I just got it for my birthday... she worked extra shifts to-”
“It’s ok Sav... I’ll go back, but get inside... where is your bag, I’ll just get everything.”
“I’m sorry Lou. It’s upstairs, in the room at the end of the hallway. Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go. You owe me gas money.”
She rushes out of the car thanking him and apologizing, while he prepares to drive all the way back to the house, praying the party has calmed down a bit by the time he gets back, and that Harry is gone, too.
♥
The drive back to the party feels longer, and he's struggling to keep his eyes open after such a long workday. The smell of alcohol on his shirt has become more prominent than it was earlier, so he rolls down his window and lets the fresh air calm his nerves and tame the scent.
When he pulls up, about an hour and a half after leaving, he’s glad to see that it does appear slightly less crowded. The number of cars parked on the street has lessened a bit, and the front lawn is basically empty aside from a few stoners on the front porch. He makes his way inside again, and while the music is just as loud, and the lights are just as annoying, the crowd isn’t as packed, and he can easily get around to search for her phone.
Bad news is, there is no sign of the phone. Good news is, there is no sign of Harry.
He hopes that maybe Harry - the saint he apparently is - put Savannah’s phone with her stuff, so he ventures upstairs to the room at the end of the hallway.
The music is shockingly muted up here, and the further he goes toward the door at the end of the hall, the quieter the music gets, and the louder the sounds from that room get.
“Harder!” Grunt, moan, thud... “Come on. Harder!”
A man’s voice. Getting fucked. No chance. In the one room that he needs to get into.
He’s not leaving without that fucking bag. So, he chooses to wait them out, sliding into the only other open door in the hall, a bathroom right next door. He can, unfortunately, still hear the action. He sits on the ledge of the bathtub, phone in hand, scrolling through e-mails to close out some of the issues he was dealing with at work tonight.
He’s really trying to drown out the sounds, but the constant string of whining ‘Fuck! Harder! Please, Harder!’ is forcing its way through the walls and vibrating in his ears. He’s close to banging on the door and yelling “Will you just go harder!?!?!” because seriously, the instructions are very clear. What’s wrong with this guy?
He can’t help but laugh when he hears only one of them moaning frantically. Shame, but at least he can get Savannah's bag soon. The other voice has gone shockingly quiet, which he’s sympathetic to, but it’s almost 1am.
He gives it a minute before he leaves the bathroom, finding the door to the room at the end of the hall just cracked, and the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. Nice. Coast is clear.
He swings open the bedroom door and almost shits himself because the coast is, in fact, not clear!
Also, the figure standing in tight black jeans, bare back facing Louis, with barely enough light to see, as luck would have it, is Harry. The bun sitting at the top of his head is unmistakable, and Louis is stuck in the doorway- a laugh bubbling its way up his throat when he thinks of Harry fucking this guy so terribly that he ran away.
Thank God he catches it before he busts out laughing. The movement of Harry’s arm, elbow rising and falling, shoulders hunched because he’s desperately palming himself. Louis’ body freezes, except for his stomach that catches in a traitorous flip.
It wasn’t Harry that was bad at sex... it was Harry getting fucked. Harry begging, and now his brain is replaying the sound. He just heard Harry getting fucked. And now he’s standing here like a creep watching him get off.
Jesus, Shit, Fuck.
He takes the stealthiest steps he’s ever taken, backward into the hallway, pulling the door with him.
It creaks - loudly.
“Justin?”
Louis cringes, freezing with his hand on the knob... no time decide... make a quiet escape, or book it as fast as he can?
He’s slowly starting to peel his fingers away when the door flies open, and Harry stands there, eyes wide, for only seconds before grabbing Louis’ arm and pulling him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Fuck! What are you doing here?” Harry whispers, bare chest heaving, cock about to burst from his jeans.
Louis tries for his usual tight, unaffected demeanor, shoulders stiffening. “I just need Savannah’s bag.”
“Yeah. Um shit. Sorry. It’s here...” Harry says, panting, awkwardly brushing the back of his neck.
Louis is trying desperately to play it cool, looking around the room for the bag, trying to ignore the scent of Harry right now, who smells like sweat and sex. Ignoring the way his skin is damp, the way his happy trail disappears into his jeans, the way his chest is still rising and falling rapidly, the desperation he can still hear in his voice.
“Do you know where her phone is? It was by the hot tub.”
“Yeah, I grabbed it. It’s in the bag.”
Great. Fan fucking tastic, he’s out of here. He crosses the room, grabs the bag, and returns, but Harry moves to block the door. “Wait.” He whispers, hand flying out to push against Louis’ chest.
The contact sets off a spark, Harry's large warm hand causing his heart to skip a beat. He looks down and Harry pulls his hand back like it’s on fire.
“Sorry.” Harry whispers. “Please... just wait.”
It’s worse, closer. The smell of Harry, musky... manly... delicious.
Two years clean.
No sex. It’s on his list.
“What is it, Harry? I need to go.”
“Just wait. Please.” There’s a different kind of desperation in his voice now, and it makes Louis pause. “What uh... did you hear?” Harry finally asks. He won’t meet Louis’ eyes. He’s panicking.
A grin spreads wide across his face. He can’t turn down the opportunity.
“Heard two guys fucking... one of them was really bad at it. Was it you or...” He teases, even though he knows the answer.
“Fuck! Did you see....”
“The other guy? Nah, hiding behind his hoodie... in shame. As he should.” He looks Harry up and down, who is still surprisingly about to burst from his zipper. You’d think it would have gone down at this point. “Leaving you like... this... is crazy work.”
Harry returns the gaze up and down Louis, eyes burning a trail of heat with them, and crosses his arms turning smug quick. “You offering to fix it old man?”
"Excuse me... I’m only like 8 years older than you...”
He wants to shove the words back in, because he shouldn’t have done the math already, when he looked at Harry’s file after getting dumbstruck by his face. Before he knew his shit personality.
“Really? With all that gray? Still... probably too old to be oogling your intern.”
“Not oogling...” Louis laughs and reaches for the doorknob because he doesn’t need this HR nightmare, but Harry’s warm hand falls on top of his once it's on the knob and the attitude drops again.
“Shit, wait.”
He sighs. “Harry, whaaaat...” He slides his hand away, because this is way too much touching.
“Please don’t tell my dad.”
Louis turns to him, disbelief and disgust all over his face. “You think I’m gonna talk to your dad about hearing you fuck?”
“Louis... you know what I mean. He doesn’t know I’m...”
“You’re...”
“Gay.”
“Not bi?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head. “Ok, as long as you’re not trying to fuck my sister...”
Harry’s hands fly out in front of him in surrender. “No, no! I love Sav, she’s not. She’s just a friend it’s not like that.”
“How do you even know her?” He tries, unsuccessfully, to tame the big brother rage that boils hotter at Harry calling her ‘Sav’... like they’re close... this asshole and terrible influence.
“Class. We had group assignments together and just... clicked.”
“And you invited her to this party, with drugs and alcohol?”
“No. I didn’t invite her. Just saw her here...”
“Right.”
Louis has to take a step back, he hadn’t realized he was coming closer to Harry with his urge to punch him... bend him over, whatever it is. Harry’s hands are still up.
“I didn’t, Louis. I promise. We just study together at the library, usually.”
“You were all over her...”
“I’m just...” Harry sighs, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I get a bit more cuddly than usual when I'm drunk but it’s not... I’m like, really gay. It’s not that.”
“Alright Harry. It’s fine. I won’t tell your dad. Can I go now?”
“Yeah. Ok. Sorry.” He breathes, backing away from the door.
Thank God.
“Alright.” Louis’ hand is on the doorknob, and he briefly considers saying more. Maybe thanking Harry for, according to Sav, being supportive... for keeping track of her phone. But he can’t seem to, so instead, he looks him up and down.
“Sort yourself out, yeah?”
Harry looks down one more time and pulls at his jeans. “Fuck you.”
Louis laughs as he exits but immediately drops the facade when the door closes behind him. The flicker of temptation he just felt is concerning. Fuck. His hand flies back into his pocket, desperately brushing his thumb against his coin like it can save him from his thoughts, and he forces himself to flee the party before he turns around and does something stupid.