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Harry Styles only has one fault, if any- which Louis still isn’t sure about, even after over three years of knowing him, and even with almost all of that time being intimate enough to put his face between the boy’s thighs. It’s not even a real fault, exactly, more like an annoying habit. He has the irritating tendency to always convince Louis to give up secrets and make it absolutely impossible to plan surprise parties.
Which was fine in the end, because that way Louis could devote the time normally spent on cloak and dagger nonsense to just focus on planning a birthday party better than any Harry had ever had in the last 20 years. Including the one where Louis tied him to the bed for the whole evening.
And after weeks of planning, the night had finally arrived. It was literally the perfect setup: all of Harry’s closest friends and family under one roof, plus cake and alcohol and everything good in the world. Not to mention it was a clever party, because enough of the lads’ functions had gone awry thanks to paparazzi and fans and leaked photos for Louis to know better. Phones would be collected at the door, after you were checked against a guest list. No pictures. No drama. Just a celebration of the greatest good Louis would ever get: Harry.
Niall was hosting, since his new place was still undiscovered by the world at large. Louis had been over there all day, chewing his nails and babbling excitedly and instructing Liam on where to move tables while Zayn looked on and smirked. Harry had been confined to quarters until Louis came home to pick him up, lest he get any big ideas about interfering in the final arrangements. After all, just because the party was common knowledge didn’t mean he didn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.
“I just moved the couch from there, and now you want me to move it back?” Liam huffed in exasperation. “It’s fine, Louis, you’re nitpicking.”
“No I’m not-”
“You are,” Zayn chimed in. “Just like you were nitpicking the last four times.”
Louis’ eyes narrowed as he prepped a snarky response, but Niall cut him off with a nudge as he walked by with a fizzy drink in one hand and the remote in the other. “Couch is fine, you can still see the telly. Shouldn’t you be heading home to get H anyways?”
The clock confirmed. “Probably should, yeah,” Louis mumbled. “People will start getting here in half an hour. Are you sure we’ve got everything-”
“Yes, Jesus, go!”
And Louis was off. He’d been in his new suit for an hour, tugging nervously at the cuffs and straightening his tie a billion times. If you asked him, suits were for old men. But Harry liked it when Louis was made to wear a suit, and oddly enough Louis found himself compelled to wear suits more.
What a mystery.
“Haz? Babe?” he called as he shut the door to the flat behind him. “Helloooo? Harry?”
The bedroom door was shut tight, and the sounds of the TV came softly from within. Louis rapped on it gently with one knuckle, waiting for a response that never came. “You ready, Harry?”
The reply was an undeniable snore, and a smile broke out across Louis’ face. The kid was getting to be as bad as Zayn, really, falling asleep whenever he sat down- but when he opened the door, Louis didn’t find Harry dressed and ready to go and toppled over on the pillows like he expected. Instead, he found a Harry-sized lump under the duvet surrounded by a minefield of crumpled tissues, an empty mug, and an ice-cold bowl of untouched soup.
“Oh dear,” Louis sighed, recognizing the scene at once. Harry was too tidy of a person to nest like this unless he was sick, and when Harry got sick, he got sick. He didn’t even stir when Louis brushed clear a path for himself in the carpet of Kleenex and crawled into bed next to his unconscious boyfriend.
After a few gentle strokes of Harry’s curls, green eyes fluttered open. “L-lou?”
“Yeah, doll. You feeling okay?” Louis muttered with concern, though he knew the answer. “You look miserable.”
Harry didn’t answer, just struggled up onto one elbow and looked past Louis to the wall clock. “Oh, shit- I was supposed to be ready to go by now. We’re going to be so late-”
But Louis’ hand was already on his chest, pushing him back down onto the pillows before he could sit up properly. “You’re not going anywhere, kid. You feel like shit, you can’t pretend you don’t.”
“I just have a runny nose,” Harry defended, and already there was a stubborn set to his jaw.
Unfortunately, no stubborn streak of Harry’s could match Louis. “Harry Edward. How long have we been together? And how many times have you been able to bullshit me?” Silence. “Exactly. So own up, how sick do you feel?”
“Pretty sick,” confessed the boy at last, just above a whisper.
Louis’ frown deepened, even as he pressed a hand to Harry’s forehead like a worried mother. “And you didn’t say anything? I knew you had a runny nose last night, but if you felt this bad all day you should have called, babe.”
“Well you said not to be bugging you all day-”
“I meant not to be nosy about the party,” Louis huffed. “Obviously if you’re sick or hurt or something I want you to call. Jesus.”
“Okay, well, consider this your warning that I’m a bit ill,” Harry said with as much sass as you could manage with a fever-flushed face. “Now let me up, I need to get dressed. I don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”
Louis was undeterred. “As gentlemanly as that is, you’re still not going anywhere. Lay down- there we go. Now, I’m going to tuck you in- stop squirming! I’m going to tuck you in, and we’re going to stay right here until you feel better.”
“No, Lou, we have to go. It’s my birthday party, I can’t just not show up!”
“Sure you can. It’s your party. And I planned it. We do what we want.” Apparently this wasn’t good enough for Harry, because he just peered up at Louis from his blanket cocoon with narrowed eyes. Louis snickered, then sighed. “I’ll call up Niall and let him know. If people want to stay and party without us, they can. If not, they can go home. We’ll reschedule, okay?”
Harry is still not satisfied, but he doesn’t struggle when Louis kisses his forehead and scoots down to lie next to him. “You shouldn’t hang around me,” he mumbles as a last defense. “You’ll get sick, too.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Well. You shouldn’t.”
“The whole point of me making you stay home is so that you won’t be miserable on your birthday. Of course I’m not leaving you, that would defeat the purpose.”
Harry’s cheeks get redder. Louis doesn’t mention the blush.
When Louis calls, Niall informs him that the party will continue on in Harry’s honor, which makes the birthday boy happy. He lets Louis cuddle him for hours, the TV on, interrupted only by trips to the kitchen for water, or tea, or whatever else Louis decided his patient needed. The only time Louis left the flat the entire night was when, nearing midnight, he kissed Harry’s cheek and snuck out to the shop.
He returned with a plastic container with six cheerful yellow cupcakes and two giant candles- a 2 and a 0. “The only cake they had was this awful pink thing with butterflies,” he apologized as he fumbled in his pocket for a lighter. “Didn’t want to reinforce stereotypes, so. Cupcakes alright, cupcake?”
“Very sly,” Harry snickered as he took in the proffered treat, which was far too small to support the two candles now flickering atop it. “You know I can’t eat that though, right? I throw up anything solid.”
“Blow. The candles, Harry, don’t give me those flirty eyes. There we go. And yes, I know that you can’t have this,” Louis answered nonchalantly as he plucked the candles out and licked the icing off of them. “But it isn’t a birthday party until there’s cake and candles and stuff. So.”
"This is a party?" Harry giggled.
"Hell yeah,” defended Louis. “In fact this was my plan all along- well, sort of. There have been a few hitches. Sorry the strippers didn’t get the memo about the location change."
That had Harry’s head snapping around to look up at Louis in shock. "You invited strippers? Louis, you know how I hated when Nick did that last year- Jesus, my mum is going to be there-"
"Shhhh, no strippers, I promise,” Louis soothed, adding a kiss to Harry’s forehead just for good measure. “Go to sleep, love, you're tired. I want you better."
"And you thought giving me a heart attack was good medicine?”
"I thought strippers would help, to be fair. Everyone likes strippers.”
"You're ridiculous,” grumbled Harry, but there was a smile on his face when he snuggled closer to Louis’ chest.
Louis smiled too, combing through Harry’s curls with the kind of tenderness only Harry ever saw from him. "And you're delirious. Go to sleep. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Thanks for the party.”
“Happy birthday, love. Now sleep."
Harry slept.