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Nick has experienced enough festivals that he knows to get in line for the portaloos the second he feels like he has to wee, and Coachella is another beast entirely compared to the festivals back home. He’s almost to the front of the line when he sees a boy who clearly doesn’t know Best Festival Weeing Practices™ dancing around near the line. It’s a really fit boy, too, with curly hair past his chin and long, slim legs that keep knocking together at the knees as he tries to hold it in.
The boy looks up and meets Nick’s gaze just as Nick’s eyes lift up from checking out his chest. He throws Nick a little smirk, a dimple popping in his left cheek. He’s really cute, so Nick smirks back. Nick thinks that’ll be it until the kid starts to walk toward him.
“Hey,” the boy says, and his voice is lower than Nick had been expecting.
“Hiya,” Nick replies.
“So, I was wondering if you could help me out with something?” And now Nick can hear that he has an accent that surprisingly sounds like home, and he talks as slow as molasses.
“Oh? What exactly could I help you with?”
“Well, I really really need to wee, and the line is like, ages long, and I don’t suppose you’d mind helping a fellow countryman out and letting me cut in front of you?”
“I’m not sure the people behind me would like that very much,” Nick reasons.
“Hmm. You have a point. But have any of the people behind you offered to buy you a drink after like I am?” He even breaks out the puppy dog eyes, and if Nick was even thinking about saying no before, he’s definitely not now.
“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I hope you wee fast.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m always fast when it involves my dick,” he says with a cheeky grin, just as a door opens and he makes a run for it, leaving Nick to shake his head. He’s already fond of this cheeky kid and he doesn’t even know his name.
*
To be honest, Nick’s half expecting the kid to have fucked off while Nick was in the portaloo, but he’s still there when Nick steps out, lingering off to the side. He smiles at Nick when he sees him, a big grin that shows off his dimple just as much as his little smirk does, and holds up a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer as Nick approaches him.
“Didn’t know if you had any of your own.”
Nick does, but he takes a squirt in the palm of his hand anyway. It smells like apples.
“Thanks, smells good,” he says.
“You’re welcome. And thank you, for letting me cut and all. I’m Harry, by the way,” he says, holding out his hand to shake Nick’s now-sanitized one.
“I’m Nick,” Nick replies. Harry’s hand is warm in his, his grip nice and firm.
Harry smirks again. “I know. You’re Grimmy, yeah?”
Nick tries to keep the wide smile off his face, but he can’t. He loves it when people recognize him, especially when it happens out of the country, fellow countryman or not.
“I am, yes. Do you listen to the show?”
“Yeah, all the time. I actually start work before you do, but you’re on by the time I’m heading to uni for my classes, so I listen then. Loved that interview you did last week with Cheryl Cole.”
“Thanks,” Nick says, as they meander their way around various groups of people and head for the beer garden. “So what do you do that you’re at work before six-thirty?”
“I work in a bakery, so I start work at half four. I’m there until seven, and then I’m in classes from eight until two,” Harry says.
“That’s a long day.” Seriously, the only reason Nick can manage the six-thirty starts is because he’s literally going to his dream job every day.
“Yeah, it is, but I guess I’m used to it by now. I worked in a bakery back home when I was doing my A-levels, in Holmes Chapel, so it was pretty easy to keep doing it when I started uni in Manchester.”
“Manchester, huh? That’s where I’m from. Well, Oldham, but close enough.”
“Yeah, I know,” Harry says, and he’s blushing a little. It’s adorable. “I mean, I’ve heard you mention it, on radio and all.”
“So, you’re not stalking me? Didn’t hear me say I was coming to Coachella and make your way here only to nearly piss yourself looking for me?” Nick asks with a cheeky lilt to his voice so Harry knows he’s joking.
Harry elbows him gently in the side. “Nah, I’ve wanted to come to Coachella for ages. I somehow managed to convince Niall and Zayn to come with me, those are my flatmates, since it’s our Easter hols at uni.”
“Yeah, what are you studying?” Nick asks.
“Law. Not sure what I’m gonna do after uni though.”
“Become a barrister?” Nick feels that’s fairly obvious if you’re studying law at uni.
Harry shrugs though. “M’not sure. I like studying law, but I’m not sure I really want to practice it, you know? And since I’m not sure, I dunno if I should stick it out another two years, or do something else. Like, maybe take a gap year, do something like this,” he says, gesturing around them.
“Like what, travel the world and get drunk at music festivals? Sleep in tents? Buy strange men drinks?” Nick asks.
“No, like, singing, maybe,” Harry says, already sounding happier than when he was talking about school. “Dunno, Niall and I do an open mic night sometimes and it goes over really well. Sometimes Zayn joins in. He sings better than both of us, but he’s pretty set on being an English teacher, and he’s in his last year so he probably wants to go straight to work. But maybe. Not done trying to convince him yet.”
With the way he says it, and the look on his face, Nick is pretty sure Harry hasn’t met very many people who say no to him, at least not seriously. Nick realizes he can already count himself in that category, and he’s known Harry for all of twenty minutes.
“Well I’m sure if anyone can convince him, it’s you, young Harold,” Nick says, bumping his shoulder with Harry’s.
“I hope so. And it’s just Harry, by the way. Harry Styles. But you can call me Harold if you want,” Harry says, full of cheek.
Nick looks at Harry’s pretty smile and big green eyes and thinks about the fact that while he could probably talk to a tree and make it his best friend in under an hour, talking with Harry feels different in a good way, a way he hasn’t felt in a while. Like something is tingling under his skin. Or maybe that’s just the start of his desert sunburn. Either way, he’s into seeing where this goes.
“I think I want,” he says.
Harry smiles wider. “Yay. Okay, let’s get some drinks and then head over to the B stage, maybe? Or do you have to meet back up with your friends?”
“I do at some point, but you’re welcome to come with me if you want,” Nick finds himself offering. He hopes to god Aimee is on her best behavior today.
“I think I want,” Harry replies with a smirk.
“Good,” Nick says, pleased. “Come, young Harold, and I’ll show you the Coachella experience of your wildest dreams.”
*
To Nick’s surprise, Aimee is on her best behavior. So are all of his friends -- or maybe it’s just that Harry is so damn charming he has them all practically swooning after five minutes. So much so that Nick feels a little twinge of possessiveness, which is odd for him in the first place, but especially after such a short time. Besides which, while he and Harry have been heavy on the flirty looks and innuendo, neither of them has made an actual move yet. Almost like he can sense Nick’s existential crisis (the first of many, Nick wishes he could warn him), Harry slips his hand into Nick’s back pocket as they listen to Pixie tell them about the dog she and George are going to get when they’re back in London. Well then. That seems to answer that question.
Nick does wonder for a second if Harry might be doing this because of who Nick is back home, but he quickly decides he doesn’t really care. Harry is fit and fun, and apparently up for it, and it’s been a while since Nick’s had a shag he was looking forward to, rather than it being something perfunctory in a club toilet. Nick puts his arm around Harry’s shoulders, which makes Harry smile up at him. It’s not a bad sight at all.
Harry winds up sticking with Nick and his group the rest of the night. At one point, when they’re joining the crowd waiting for the Arctic Monkeys, Nick asks if Harry needs to find his friends, but Harry just smiles and says he’s fine where he is, and that’s that. As the night goes on, Harry’s hand in Nick’s back pocket leads to Nick’s hand in Harry’s back pocket, which leads to them holding hands, and then to Nick’s arms around Harry’s waist as they watch Blur, and finally to snogging during the last half of their set.
Harry’s mouth is lush and wide and he knows how to use it, tongue curling perfectly against Nick’s. They kiss until Nick starts to get a crick in his neck, and he spends the last few songs with his face buried in Harry’s thick curly hair. After Blur finishes, Nick is supposed to ride back to the hotel in Palm Springs with his friends. A quick glance at Harry and he knows that’s not going to happen. He hugs Gelz, who’s closest, and tells her he’ll see everyone tomorrow, and then he’s grabbing Harry’s hand, and Harry is tugging him away and back toward the campgrounds.
Nick’s never camped at Coachella, sort of hates camping in general if he’s honest, but Harry tells him it’s the only way that he and his friends could afford to come to the festival.
“We’ve all been saving for a year. Part of my plane ticket was my birthday present from my parents. And Niall’s got a cousin in LA who loaned us his car and a tent, so we have that. It’s not that big; my air mattress is only a twin,” he explains as they trip through the crowds heading the same direction.
Nick squeezes his hand. “I don’t think we’ll have trouble sharing,” he says.
Harry responds with a cheeky grin, his dimples popping again, and Nick can’t help himself: he stops right where he is and kisses Harry again, hands cupping his sharp jaw. They are totally those people right now, and Nick does not give a single fuck. He’s not even drunk, but he feels like he is. He’s not sure how Harry has had such an effect on him in one evening, but he feels so good. He wants to drown in this boy’s mouth.
He doesn’t want to get too caught up -- people are jostling all around them as they block traffic -- so he makes himself pull back. Harry’s eyes are dark, and he looks dazed.
“C’mon, it’s this way,” he says, tugging on Nick’s hand again and leading him along.
When they finally make it to Harry’s tent, there’s someone else already in it -- a guy with dark hair and long dark eyelashes -- sound asleep on one side. Nick hesitates when he sees him, but Harry just crawls past him to where his mattress is set up at the back.
“Come through, it’s just Zayn. He can sleep through anything, trust me,” Harry says, his hand held out, beckoning Nick closer.
Nick does as he’s told and crawls past Zayn and over to where Harry has sprawled out on his back. Nick settles on his hands and knees over him and just looks his fill for a minute: Harry’s curls splayed out over his pillow, his lips shiny and wet, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out. Nick doesn’t move until Harry reaches up with one hand, tangles his fingers in Nick’s hair and tugs a little, drawing Nick down into a kiss. Harry moans into Nick’s mouth, opening for him right away, and using the hand not in Nick’s hair to press between his shoulder blades so he collapses and presses down against the length of Harry’s body with his own. Harry moans even louder when Nick’s weight settles on top of him, and he rolls his hips up against Nick’s, the feel of his hard cock taking Nick from chubbed up to nearly all the way there himself.
Nick bites on Harry’s lip, rolling his hips down as he does it, loving the whimpering sounds Harry’s making. He gets them in a rhythm, a slow and dirty grind against each other as he kisses his way down Harry’s jaw to suck and bite at his neck. His skin is so pale and soft, it makes Nick want to mark him up in a way that’s not usual for him, that will let everyone at the festival know that this one is taken. Nick has no idea where his head is.
They rub off against each other until it starts to edge on painful, too many clothes and not enough moisture, but Harry seems close, both hands on Nick’s arse, tugging him closer, his breath hitching. Nick pulls away, and Harry sort of flops back down from where he’d been clinging on.
“What’re you-“ he starts to say, but stops once Nick slides down in between his spread thighs, his fingers going for the flies on Harry’s stupid jorts (Nick’s wearing stupid jorts too, he’s not judging or anything, but Harry’s are particularly stupid). Nick gets them open and down Harry’s thighs, then over his knees and off. He’s been low-key admiring Harry’s legs all day, the slender, shapely calves leading up to his thick thighs. They’re great legs -- and Nick knows from great legs; he’s seen his own in the mirror -- and he pays them some attention now, rubbing his fingers lightly up from Harry’s ankles, watching how it makes him shiver as he tries to keep still for Nick.
He leans in and bites at Harry’s inner left thigh, sucking a mark that Harry will hopefully feel tomorrow. He feels Harry’s hands back in his hair, hears his strangled, “Nick, please”.
Nick noses his way up to the crease of Harry’s thigh and breathes him in. He should smell terrible, after walking around a desert festival all day, but Nick loves this smell. The musk of arousal, the tang of sweat, and something that must be uniquely Harry underneath it all. It makes his mouth water, and he reaches up to pull Harry’s briefs down over his cock. He could feel that Harry was big, but it’s nice to have it confirmed. Harry’s long and thick, the head of his dick flushed and peaking out from the foreskin, already so slick at the tip.
“Nick,” Harry says again, and Nick looks up at him. “Please,” Harry begs.
Nick doesn’t keep him waiting any longer, leaning down and taking in as much of Harry’s cock as he can, until it hits the back of his throat. Harry bucks up a little at that, and Nick puts one hand on Harry’s hip to hold him down. He wraps the other around the base of Harry’s dick as he slides his mouth up, tonguing along the thick length of him to get him nice and wet. He sets up a steady rhythm between his mouth and his hand and lets Harry move his hips a bit. Nick loves this part, loves when a blowjob starts to hover on that line between giving and being used. Harry’s breathing is going short and sharp above him, his hips starting to twitch out of rhythm, so Nick takes the opportunity to press both hands on Harry’s thighs and take him all the way into his throat, until his nose is buried in the neatly trimmed pubes at the base of Harry’s cock.
“Fuck, shit, Nick,” Harry gasps, both hands tangled in Nick’s hair, tugging a little. Nick pulls off so he can take a breath, and then immediately does it again as Harry continues to curse.
Once more and Harry’s tugging on Nick’s hair hard, gasps, “Nick, m’gonna come.” Nick pulls back again, but not all the way, sucking hard, hands squeezing Harry’s thighs, and Harry groans loudly as he comes, spilling hot and heavy into Nick’s mouth, so much that he almost can’t swallow it all.
Nick pulls off with a pop and wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He notices Harry watching him, totally blissed out, so he puts on a bit of a show, drags the bit of come he was after into his mouth and sucks on his thumb a bit. Harry isn’t still for long; he sits up and grabs for Nick, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Nick’s lips feel rubbed raw, his throat a bit scratchy and his jaw aching, but kissing Harry feels good so he doesn’t stop him.
Harry reaches down to palm at Nick’s dick, still so hard and trapped in his jorts, practically forgotten while Nick was busy getting Harry off. He remembers now, and his hips twitch forward, pressing harder against Harry’s hand.
“What do you want?” Harry breaks the kiss to whisper.
Nick really wants Harry’s mouth, but he’s a bit too far gone at the moment to make that desire more explicit (probably Harry could guess, with how much Nick has been staring at it all day), so he manages to gasp, “This is perfect,” while reaching down to help Harry unfasten his flies.
They manage to get Nick’s cock out, and then Harry’s large hand is gripping him, jerking him off in tight, sure strokes. Nick makes a probably embarrassing noise when he comes all over Harry’s stomach not long into it, but he’s too blissed out to care. He collapses forward and to the side, careful not to lie on Harry or his own mess, and buries his face in Harry’s neck.
Once he’s caught his breath, the absurdity of their current situation hits him and he laughs.
“What’s funny?” Harry asks.
“Just,” Nick says, gesturing at them both, lying there with their cocks out still, his come drying on Harry’s stomach, and then around at the fact that they’re not even alone in the tent, not to mention just in a fucking tent at Coachella and the noise of everyone else filtering in now that the haze of lust has worn off (and Nick cannot even believe he just thought that phrase, what the fuck). Anyone walking past a few minutes ago would have heard everything.
Harry gets it without the words, because he laughs too, (and Nick is not going to think too deeply right now about the fact that Harry gets him without words already), and rolls onto his side to dig around in a backpack. He comes back with a wet wipe packet and takes one for himself before handing one to Nick. They both clean up and get their clothes back in order, and then a yawn is cracking Nick’s jaw wide. He rolls to his side and Harry cuddles up behind him.
“Hope you don’t mind being the little spoon. I’m kind of a cuddler,” Harry says into Nick’s ear, voice even lower now that he’s about to fall asleep.
Nick kind of hates cuddling, as a rule, but he can deal with it as long as he feels like he has air to breathe, so being the little spoon is actually kind of perfect for him. “Yeah, m’good, thanks.”
“Mmmmm. ‘Kay. Night then.”
“Night,” Nick murmurs back, and somehow falls asleep amongst all the campsite noise.
*
Nick is woken up in the morning when someone very loud -- and, from the sounds of it, very Irish -- leaps into the tent.
“Mornin’ lads! Rise ‘n’ shine!” Loud Irish yells.
“Niall, nooooooooo,” Harry groans behind Nick. Nick agrees.
Niall, apparently, does not, as he flops down right on top of the both of them.
“C’mon, Hazza, you’re already missing out! You’ve talked about nothing else but coming out here for a year, and now that you’ve got a shag in, you just wanna lie in? No offense, mate, hiya,” Niall directs to Nick.
“None taken,” Nick replies while trying to roll more onto his back through Harry’s iron grip, which hasn’t loosened since Niall jumped on them.
“Oh hey, you’re Grimmy!” Niall says now that he can actually see all of Nick’s face. “You’re great, man, I listen all the time. Nice pull, Haz,” he says, tugging on Harry’s curls. When Nick turns towards him, Harry’s face is bright red; Nick likes Niall already.
“Thanks,” he says to Niall, smiling brightly.
“Yeah, thanks, Niall, bye now Niall,” Harry adds, trying to push Niall off him with some inventive wriggling, since he still won’t let go of Nick.
Niall relents and gets up. “Fine, no point trying to wake Sleeping Beauty over there. But you lads should get up soon anyway, there’s something dumb that would only happen in the morning at Coachella going on. Can’t miss it!” And with that, Niall’s crashing back out of the tent just as suddenly as he had appeared.
“Sorry about him,” Harry says into Nick’s neck.
“Nah, I liked him. Loud but funny, my kind of people.”
That makes Harry frown a bit. “I’m loud and funny,” he pouts.
Nick laughs and scritches his fingers against Harry’s scalp, which seems to have already appeased Harry a little. “I know you are, love. S’what made me let you cut in line.”
“Mmm, that and you think I’m pretty.”
Nick can’t disagree with that, so he doesn’t. Instead he asks, “Do you want to get up and find out what Niall was on about? I should probably call Aimee soon anyway and beg her to bring me my stuff. I have to DJ at Henry’s party this afternoon.”
Harry perks up at that. “Really? That’s cool. Not sure what the other lads are doing today. Zayn won’t wake up for a while.”
“You wanna come to the party with me? You can hang out in the booth while I’m on,” Nick suggests, warmed by Harry’s enthusiasm.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, of course. Everyone’ll be happy to see you again anyway. You charmed the pants off everyone I know last night.”
“Yours were the only ones I wanted off, though. And it worked,” Harry says, cheeky grin in place. And getting up be damned, Nick just has to kiss him. So he does.
*
After snogging for long enough that Niall comes back to the tent and threatens to pour water on them if they don’t hurry, they finally get up. Nick has to grit his teeth to deal with a baby wipe shower; this is why he always stays in a hotel. Camping is gross.
Luckily, Aimee takes pity on him and brings him his laptop and headphones so he can actually do his set at the House of Holland Pool Party. He’s making do clothes-wise with his jorts from yesterday and a Hawaiian shirt of Harry’s that Harry insists Nick wear half-unbuttoned as “it looks better that way, shows off your chest,” and really, who is Nick to argue with that logic, especially when Harry is also getting his chest out in another ridiculous print shirt.
Harry sticks pretty close the whole time, hanging out in the booth with Nick during his set. He fits in with Nick and his friends so effortlessly. Usually Nick would be annoyed if a hookup stuck around this long, but it’s like they’ve all known Harry for years. When Nick isn’t thinking about sucking Harry’s cock again, he just really likes hanging out with him. If he thinks about that too much, he’ll panic, so he forces it out of his mind and asks Harry if he’ll go get him a drink. Harry smiles and does. Aimee catches Nick’s eyes as he watches Harry walk away and gives him one of those looks like she knows exactly what’s going on is his head and they’ll be talking about all of this later. Nick thinks it’s probably not a bad idea to check in with her so they can make sure California hasn’t made him totally lose his marbles.
Nick knows he’s lost some of them, anyway, but he and Harry seem to be the same kind of reckless idiot, so maybe it’s not so bad. What is bad is their self-control, as they immediately make their way back to Harry’s tent after Nick’s set is finished, with promises to meet up with everyone later for the headliners.
On the way, they run into Zayn, who looks like a walking magazine advert, all in black with Doc Martens and a leather jacket on, smoking a cigarette near the edge of the campgrounds. Nick’s not sure how he’s not burning up, but he doesn’t even look like he’s sweating. There’s no way he’s real.
Harry hugs him and introduces Nick. Zayn and Nick shake hands, Zayn with a bit of a smirk around his cigarette like perhaps he wasn’t as asleep as Harry had insisted last night.
“What are you up to?” Harry asks him.
“Just going to meet Niall and the crew he’s managed to round up already. You guys wanna come with?” Zayn asks.
“Uh, we were just gonna, um. We might meet you later?” Harry says, looking obvious and shifty. Nick rolls his eyes.
Zayn just laughs a bit and shakes his head. “Yeah, alright, see ya later then.”
After he walks away, Nick pokes Harry in the ribs. “Real subtle, Styles.”
“Hey,” Harry says, long and drawn out. “It’s not like he couldn’t figure it out. Come on. I wanna blow you.”
Nick doesn’t hesitate. And once they finally get back to the tent, he finds out that Harry’s even more talented with that mouth of his than Nick had hoped.
*
It’s a bit of a trip, watching Phoenix’s set later with Harry and all of his friends. This band was a bit of a heartbreak/heartache band for him when he was at uni. Nick could never have guessed where he would be now, seeing them at Coachella with his pack of crazy friends and a really fit lad with an arm around Nick’s waist. A fit lad who has to go back to Manchester in two days. Nick’s trying not to dwell on that part, but maybe Phoenix headlining tonight is appropriate.
The early evening trip to the tent has eased their need to get their hands all over each other immediately, and Harry choose to ride back to Palm Springs with Nick and everyone. Hens and Gelz try to get them to stay up and party, but the ride back was long enough, so Nick begs off and drags Harry to his room.
Once inside, Nick pulls Harry straight into the bathroom. “I want to do this right, but we are filthy and not in the fun way,” he says as he turns on the shower.
Harry doesn’t complain, just starts taking off his clothes. Nick joins him after watching for a moment. He’s seen Harry’s body in bits and pieces, but not all the way naked, and it’s quite the sight. He’s lightly muscled all over, but he’s got some soft bits too, around his hips where Nick just wants to squeeze. His legs are long and thick, and his cock is even more impressive outside the dim light of a tent. His random patchwork of tattoos should look a bit ridiculous, but for some reason on him they just work. Nick’s already become a big fan of the birds on his chest. Harry looks pleased by Nick’s scrutiny, until he decides that Nick isn’t getting naked fast enough.
“C’mon, off,” he says, getting his hands on Nick’s flies, while Nick finishes unbuttoning his shirt.
Once they’re both naked they get into the shower. Harry’s wet skin is so tempting, but Nick’s determined to get them both at least a little clean before they mess around. He starts in on his hair while Harry grabs the body wash, and then they switch. Nick’s finally feeling human again, so he crowds Harry against the shower wall and leans down to kiss him, licking into his mouth, his hands making their way down Harry’s slippery skin to wrap around his hard cock and gently squeeze.
Harry breaks the kiss on a gasp, his head lightly hitting the wall as he relaxes into it, letting Nick set the pace. Nick bites and sucks a trail of kisses along Harry’s shoulder and neck, his skin tasting clean like soap and fresh water. He feels Harry squeeze his hip, and then his cock fills out even more in Nick’s hand, Harry’s groan echoing off the tile as he comes, splashing out over Nick’s fist. Nick strokes him through it, then rinses off his hand under the showerhead.
Harry’s quick to catch his breath and drop down to his knees, pushing Nick back to lean against the wall and sucking him all the way down in one go. It feels amazing; Harry’s mouth is hot and wet, and he sucks hard, like he can’t wait to taste Nick’s come. Nick tangles his fingers in Harry’s wet hair and lets Harry pull the orgasm from him, Harry swallowing when Nick comes. Harry stands back up, with a little help from Nick, and Nick walks them back under the water.
He kisses Harry again, tasting himself in Harry’s mouth, chasing it away until it’s just Harry again. Nick slides his hands down to palm at Harry’s arse, loving how tiny but plump it is. He spreads him wide, and Harry shudders against him, nosing into Nick’s neck and resting his head there while Nick runs a finger lightly down his crack and over his hole.
“Want you to be nice and clean, gonna eat you out,” he tells him in a whisper, and Harry full-on moans.
“Yeah, fuck, Nick, please,” he says, already begging. Good.
“Finish up in here, then meet me in the bedroom,” Nick orders, kissing Harry once more before stepping out of the shower.
He grabs a towel and dries off quickly, walking into the bedroom as he rubs his hair. He throws it on the floor by the bed, thinking they might need it later, then digs around in his bag for lube and condoms, in case Harry wants to go that far.
By the time he has what he needs in hand, Harry’s in the room. His cock is already on its way to fully hard again. If Nick’s really lucky, he might get to make him come three times tonight.
“On the bed, on your front,” Nick tells him, and he watches Harry flop down and starfish across the bed. Nick laughs as he climbs up behind him, smacks him lightly on the bum, Harry’s mouth turned up in a grin from what Nick can see.
“Arse up,” he says, and Harry complies, bringing his arms in close to his body and arching his back. He’s truly a sight to behold, and Nick leans up to sweep the hair off the back of Harry’s neck and kiss him there.
“Can’t wait to taste you, Haz. Might just lick you out until you come again.”
“Fuck,” Harry groans. “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Nick says, then drags his mouth down Harry’s spine, over the swell of his arse, and then tongues down to his hole.
Nick can hear Harry moan above him, his legs spreading wider as Nick gets his hands on him and parts his cheeks. He leans in and licks him again, from his balls and all the way up, then again, getting him nice and wet. Harry tastes like clean skin here too, but the smell of him is stronger, thick with arousal, and it makes Nick’s mouth water. He’s always loved doing this, the way it tastes, smells, the feel of someone coming apart on his tongue. He wants to make Harry feel that way.
He tongues around Harry’s rim, feeling it clench and unclench with each stroke.
“Nick, please,” Harry moans.
Nick teases him with a few more circles, then points his tongue and presses in. Harry keens, and falls forward a bit, so Nick tightens his grip and pulls him back onto his face, letting Harry know he can grind back if he needs to.
Harry takes instruction so well, rocking his hips in tiny thrusts back as Nick eats him out. Nick loves making it sloppy, he has spit all over his face, and Harry’s wet enough that Nick can easily slide a finger inside.
“This okay?” Nick asks.
“Oh god, yeah,” Harry says, pushing back for more already.
Nick licks around his finger and presses it in deeper, then adds a second one.
“Go on, Haz, you can touch yourself, get yourself off for me,” he says.
Harry’s hand practically flies down to his cock, his hips lifting up higher so he has room to really pull himself off. Nick presses his fingers in deep, finds Harry’s prostate and rubs against it. Harry’s noises are growing high-pitched and Nick can tell he’s close, feels him tensing up from inside.
“Yeah, that’s it, come on, come for me,” he instructs, so turned on he’s surprised his voice is steady.
Nick pulls his fingers out and gets his mouth back on Harry, tonguing into him then sucking at his hole. That’s enough for Harry and he whines and comes, rocking back and forth between his own hand and Nick’s face.
When Harry collapses down onto the bed, Nick sits up, wipes his face off with his other hand. He lets Harry catch his breath for a minute, then pats his leg.
“You up for one more?” Nick asks.
Harry looks at him over his shoulder, hair falling into his eyes, face flushed red, lips raw from where he’s been biting them. He looks like pure sex.
“Yeah, want you to fuck me,” he says, sounding like pure sex as well, and it makes Nick’s cock throb.
He helps Harry roll onto his back and gets in between his spread legs, leaning up to kiss him. He probably should’ve rinsed his mouth out before this, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, sucking on Nick’s tongue, his hands in Nick’s hair, pulling him down. Nick goes, and it feels good to rub against Harry’s toned stomach, Nick’s cock so hard and leaking.
They kiss until Harry starts rutting back up against Nick, his cock starting to plump up again. Nick reaches over to where he’d tossed the lube and gets his fingers wet with it, kneeling up over Harry so he can get his fingers back inside him. He goes right in with two, and Harry’s still relaxed enough from before that he takes them easily.
Nick takes it slow, still, mindful that three times in one go is a lot, even for a nineteen year old. But it’s not long before Harry’s rocking down onto Nick’s fingers in earnest, and Nick has three in and is teasing a fourth when Harry pushes at him.
“C’mon, Nick, fuck me.”
Nick slowly removes his fingers, wipes them off on the duvet. He gets the condom on and adds some more slick, then settles between Harry’s legs, Harry helps by grabbing the backs his knees to spread himself wide.
“Bendy little thing, aren’t you?” Nick remarks, delighted by this information.
“Yoga,” Harry replies with a smirk. “Now fuck me please, Nicholas.”
“As you wish, Harold,” Nick says, as he presses his cock against Harry’s hole, pushing past the slight resistance and then sliding slowly inside.
Harry takes his cock beautifully, opening right up. He’s so smooth and tight inside, Nick wishes he could stay here forever. Once he’s all the way in, Harry breathes heavily a few times before he drops his legs to wrap around Nick’s waist, and Nick takes that as his cue to move. He starts off slowly, shallow thrusts, watching Harry’s face for reactions. Harry’s got a little line between his brow like he’s concentrating really hard, and Nick wants to smooth it out. He kisses him there instead, and Harry immediately relaxes his face, smiling softly.
“You okay?” Nick asks.
“Mmm yeah,” Harry says, blinking slowly to look up at Nick. “You feel good.”
“Yeah?” Nick punctuates with a hard thrust.
“Fuck, yeah,” Harry groans. “God, do that again.”
Nick thrusts hard, the smack of his hips against Harry’s arse loud in the room.
“God, yes, please,” Harry moans, and Nick picks up the pace, keeping his thrusts hard, but going faster.
It’s not long before he feels his control slip, Harry feeling too good beneath him, hot and tight and so fucking gorgeous, like a walking wet dream. He gets a hand between them and on Harry’s cock, trying to get him closer to where Nick is. Harry clenches down immediately, a breathy moan escaping his lips, and that’s it for Nick, he loses his rhythm completely, coming hard into the condom, Harry so tight around him. He thrusts a few more times while he’s coming down from it, giving Harry something to come on as he strokes him off. Harry’s nearly dry this go round, but he shudders hard, his entire body tensing. Once he relaxes enough for Nick to pull out, he does it slowly, Harry still shaking with aftershocks.
Nick quickly gets rid of the condom, and wipes Harry off with his damp towel before collapsing beside him. Harry immediately rolls to his side and snuggles up against him, one leg thrown over Nick’s.
Nick wraps his arms around him and strokes his hair. It’s a while before either of them speaks, but eventually Harry looks up at him and says, “You’re really wonderful.”
It’s so earnest it makes Nick feel a little embarrassed for him. But Harry isn’t embarrassed at all, just naked in every sense of the word, and Nick has never really known what to do with that kind of honesty. He thinks this is one of those moments when he should probably return it, though.
“You are so fucking lovely,” he replies, and Harry lights up like a Christmas tree, leaning up to kiss Nick again before snuggling back down.
Nick should get them up and clean again, but he just reaches down to pull the covers over them and holds Harry close until they fall asleep.
*
They spend Sunday drifting between Harry’s friends and Nick’s, checking out sets here and there, but mostly just trying to spend as much time together as they can. Nick thinks it might be stupid, that they should’ve parted ways this morning like they have to tonight. Nick has another week of his holiday, and they’re all staying on in Palm Springs for a few days. Harry has to ride back to LA tonight in order to make his flight back to the UK in the morning.
Nick’s under no illusions that this can work once they’re both back home. He’s not made any promises, and neither has Harry. They live relatively close to each other, but Nick knows himself. He gets obsessed fast and early, and then he’s over it the next minute. Besides, he works all the time and Harry still has to finish uni and has absolutely no clue what he’s doing with his life next. The timing would be terrible even if Nick were the boyfriend type.
It’s just that Harry feels like the kind of person who could stay.
Nick pushes it to the back of his mind and convinces Harry that the Red Hot Chili Peppers are definitely past their prime enough to skip out on, even though it’s the closing set of the whole weekend. Instead, they hang out around the campsite, talking and drinking and snogging in relative privacy.
It’s all too soon when people start making their way back, the festival over. Once Niall and Zayn get back, that’s Nick’s cue to go find his friends for the drive back to Palm Springs, while Harry and his mates make their way back to LA.
Nick stands and pulls Harry up into a hug. Harry clings hard, and Nick does as well. No one’s around who will take the piss out of him for ages after, so he might as well get his fill.
“Don’t be a stranger, Harry Styles,” he says. “Text me and let me know how you’re getting on. I expect to be given the exclusive first play when you end up a massive pop star instead of a lawyer.”
Harry laughs. “You will, I promise. And I will. Text you, I mean. You have my number, right?”
“I do.” It’s saved in his phone under Harold with a heart emoji.
“I’m really glad I met you,” Harry says, as he pulls back a bit and looks at Nick, his eyes big and earnest and a little wet. Nick swallows hard.
“Me too. Glad you couldn’t hold your wee.”
That gets a laugh and a smile out of Harry and that’s good, that’s really good. Nick doesn’t do sad emotions, not if he doesn’t have to.
“C’mon, Haz, they’re about to let our row out!” Niall calls from the car.
Harry nods, then leans up to kiss Nick one more time. “Gotta go,” he says quietly.
“Yeah. Have a safe drive, safe flight.” Nick kisses him again, just one more, then lets him go.
“Bye, Nick,” Harry says.
“Bye, Harry,” Nick replies, watching as he gets in the car and waves out the window. Nick stands in the middle of the emptying campsite as the car pulls away from him, and waves back.
It takes him a while to navigate his way back to where Aimee said she would wait for him. He’s not sure what his face looks like by the time he gets there, but it makes Aimee say, “Oh love, let’s get you drunk,” when he’s close enough for her to see him. Getting drunk sounds like a very good idea to Nick.
*
Late the next afternoon, while Nick is curing his hangover with more alcohol by the pool, his phone chimes with his text tone. It’s Harry.
Jet lag is going to be terrible. But back on home soil.. Thank you for the most amazing weekend. xxH.
A text message should not be so endearing. Nick has a feeling he’s sort of fucked.
He writes back. Glad you made it safely. I had a great weekend too. Study hard! Lol hard. xx
Harry immediately texts back.
Penis jokes! With the aubergine emoji and a smiley face. Nick laughs, then puts his phone down and goes in search of more alcohol and a distraction. Same kind of idiot indeed.
*
Nick’s holiday has to end eventually, and soon enough he’s back in London, and back on the radio. He and Harry have been texting pretty steadily since Harry got back to Manchester. Since Harry is one of the few people other than Nick’s team up at the ungodly hour of half five in the morning, they usually text during Nick’s ride into the studio.
Apparently he’s come in to the studio in too good a mood for too many days in a row, and Fiona corners him on Thursday morning.
“Okay, who did you meet? What did you do? Tell me everything.”
Nick is tempted to brush it off, but right at that moment another text from Harry comes through and Fiona grabs his phone before he can stop her.
“Ooooh who’s Harold Heart Emoji, then? And is that a string of kissy faces?” She sounds thrilled at this discovery.
“Give it back,” Nick squawks, making grabby hands for his phone. “We’re going to be late and then Finchy won’t stop bitching.”
Fiona relents at that. “Fine,” she says, handing him back his phone. “But we are talking about this later. Whatever you’re doing for lunch, it’s with me now.”
Nick knows a determined Fiona always gets what she wants, so he doesn’t even try to get out of it. “Okay, come back to mine after the show.”
“Good. Now let’s go wake up the nation,” she says, leading him into the pre-show meeting. Nick quickly texts back some heart emojis to Harry before he joins her.
After the show and the post-meeting, Fiona follows Nick down to his waiting cab and climbs in with him. Once they’re at Nick’s, she settles on the sofa while Nick goes into the kitchen to get out his collection of takeaway menus.
“I don’t have anything in,” he says, handing them over to Fiona. “Pick wherever you like and I’ll order us something.”
“I think I’d like a Chinese,” she decides, and Nick calls in their order, then fiddles about in the conservatory, clearing off the table so they have room to eat. Fiona sees right through his delay tactics.
“Alright, out with it. What happened in California? Who’s this Harold?”
Nick quits messing about and sits down on the opposite sofa. “I’m not sure why this needs the Spanish Inquisition, but what happened in California is that I met a boy named Harry at the festival. He’s a law student up in Manchester and he was lovely, and that’s that.”
“And you’re still talking to him?” She asks.
“Yes, we’re still talking. Well, texting. We get along really well, just have the same sense of humour and everything.”
“So what’s the deal with the heart emojis then? Are you doing a long-distance thing, or?” she asks, trailing off.
“Well, no, not really. We didn’t really talk about it, seemed like it would be a just-at-Coachella thing,” he answers, feeling a bit wistful about it all.
“But you really like him.” She’s not asking, and Nick just shrugs in response.
“You know I hate talking about feelings, Fifi.”
“Oh fine, don’t say anything, but you’ve had this look on your face every morning this week.”
Nick hates it when his face does his talking for him. “Well, like I said, he was lovely,” he says, trying not to sound as defensive as he feels.
“Not lovely enough to make London to Manchester work, though?”
Nick sighs. He can’t deny it’s something he’s thought about this week, but Harry hasn’t brought it up, and neither has he, and maybe it’s just better this way. Less complicated. “It’s not that, it’s just. It would be too hard. I’m busy and he’s got exams soon. There’s no time.”
Fiona looks like she’s about to argue the point, but lucky for Nick the door goes and he has to go pay the deliveryman for their lunch.
*
On Saturday, Nick’s just got back from visiting the dog he’s finally decided to adopt, when his phone goes off. It’s Harry, but it’s not a text, he’s calling. It takes Nick a second to remember what he’s supposed to do, and he’s sliding to answer just before it goes to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Nick? It’s Harry,” he says, as if Nick wouldn’t know.
“Hi, Harold. How are you on this fine Saturday? Well, it’s not really fine, is it, raining and all. But maybe it’s fine where you are.” Nick starts pacing around the flat like he always does when he’s on the phone.
Harry laughs a little. Nick’s missed his laugh. “It’s okay here. And I’m fine, good. Just, you know, trying to get everything done, with classes and work and stuff. It’s a lot. But overall, good. How are you?”
“The same, really. Good, busy. I just got back from visiting my future dog, actually.”
“Really? I didn’t know you were getting a dog. That’s sick! What kind of dog?”
“She’s a Jack Russell, so she’s small with lots of energy. She’s a rescue and the trainer and I have had to do a lot of work to get her ready to come home, but she’s nearly there. Should have her in another few weeks,” he says. Nick’s happy to chit-chat with Harry, but he’s beginning to wonder if there’s a point to this phone call. He keeps pacing.
“That’s so great, Nick, I can’t wait to see her. I mean, pictures of her.” Harry sounds a little awkward with him for the first time that Nick can remember. It makes him even more curious as to why Harry’s calling him instead of just texting like usual.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice, Harold?” he asks.
Harry’s quiet for a few seconds before he answers. “Well, I wanted to ask you about something, and I thought it would be better to talk rather than text.” He goes quiet again, long enough that Nick starts getting anxious. “That way,” he starts again, “if you think it’s stupid, we can just forget I ever said anything and there’s no evidence I even brought it up, right?”
He sounds hesitant, and Nick is quick to reassure him. “Of course we can, Harry. Whatever you want. Just. What did you want to ask me?”
Harry takes a deep enough breath that Nick can hear it over the phone. “I know we never talked about what would happen with us after Coachella, I mean, we exchanged numbers and all, but we never really said we would talk or ever see each other again, and I was okay with that. I mean, I’m sure you had your reasons, I had mine. But I’m glad we’ve kept in touch, and I really had an incredible time with you, and I don’t think it was just because I was at a festival I’d wanted to go to forever. I think it’s because you were there and we met and it was amazing. We were amazing. Weren’t we?”
Nick’s heart feels like its in his throat by the time Harry stops talking, but he manages a response. “Yeah, we were.”
“Yeah. So, I just though. I mean, we’re not really that far apart, London and Manchester, are we? And I don’t think I’ll be here much longer. So I thought that if you felt the same as me, that maybe we should try it. Like, dating. Just, see how it goes.”
Now Nick’s stomach has been filled with butterflies. He always finds it difficult to really say what he’s feeling, but there’s something about Harry, probably his overwhelming earnestness, that makes Nick want to let his walls down a little. “I, well,” he starts, then decides to lay it all out there. “To be honest, dating isn’t something I usually do. I hate dates, me. But what we were doing never felt like dating. You kind of fit right in, and I’ve never had that happen before. Usually when I bring a date along with my friends, they get mad at me for not paying them enough attention, but not you. You just made everyone fall for you.”
“Everyone? Even you?” Harry asks, sounding hopeful.
“Yeah, yeah I think even me,” Nick replies honestly.
“So does that mean you want to date me, or you still don’t do dating?”
If Nick’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t stopped thinking about Harry since he drove away from him in a dusty field in California. And Harry’s right, they’re not that far, and they could see what happens. Which they can’t do unless they try. Nick’s been thinking for too long, because Harry clears his throat and starts to backtrack, sounding defeated.
“Okay, I just, sorry, I should probably-“
“Harry,” Nick cuts him off. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I think if you think we should try out dating, then I’m on the same page as you.”
“Really?” Harry asks, and Nick can practically see his smile.
“Yeah, Haz, really,” Nick confirms, feeling his own face break into a stupid grin. “I want to date you, too.”
“Yay. I’m sorry, I’m actually really excited but you can’t tell because of my morbid voice.”
Nick laughs. “I know that by now, Harold. So, how does this work then?”
“Could I come to London and see you?” Harry asks in a rush.
Nick laughs. “Now?”
“No, not now, but maybe next weekend? I could get the train after classes Friday, stay until Sunday?”
Nick doesn’t even bother to check his calendar; whatever he has on can be moved. “That sounds perfect. Text me the details once you’ve booked your ticket.”
“I will. Nick?”
“Harold.”
“Thanks for not saying no.”
“Well, thanks for asking,” Nick says, smiling to himself and feeling a bit stupid about it, but not doing anything to stop.
They end up on the phone the rest of the evening, and Nick falls asleep on his couch with the sound of Harry’s sleep snuffles in his ear again. It’s the best sleep he’s had since Coachella.
*
The Friday that Harry’s due to come to London, Nick knows he’s being even more obnoxious than usual during the show, and that he’s in true terror mode during the Nixtape. He knows he’s being over the top, but he’s got too much nervous energy, and he hasn’t really told anyone why yet. Fiona keeps looking at him pointedly and gesturing at his phone, but he doesn’t want to say anything just yet. He’s not sure why; it’s not like he and Harry have never spent time together. But that was before they’d defined this as something, and Nick’s worried that if he announces it before they test it out, he’ll ruin it before it’s even started.
It makes no sense, which is why he’s kept his paranoia to himself. It is making him thankful his team are patient enough to put up with his behavior, though.
By the time he has to get to Euston to meet Harry’s train, Nick’s about to buzz out of his skin. He’s surprised when he gets himself there in one piece. The traffic’s horrendous, and his cabbie gets him there just as Harry’s train is scheduled to arrive at the platform. Nick waits where he’s supposed to, and eventually he sees Harry’s unruly mop of curls bouncing toward him. When Harry finally catches sight of Nick he picks up his pace a bit, his face crinkled in a wide grin. Nick can feel a matching one forming on his own face. When Harry gets to him, he drops his bag at Nick’s feet and wraps his arms around Nick, Nick’s arms automatically going around Harry’s waist. Oh god, this is straight out of a film.
“Hi,” Harry says in his ear.
“Hiya,” Nick says back.
“I missed you,” Harry says, squeezing Nick harder.
“I missed you, too,” Nick replies, and he can’t stand it anymore, has to pull back a little so he can get his lips on Harry’s, kissing him breathless right in the middle of the station. They slow it down pretty quickly, not wanting to get too heated in public.
“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get a cab,” Nick says, helping Harry get his bag resettled on his shoulder.
Harry looks up at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes huge. “Like it when you call me that.”
Nick rewinds what he just said and flushes a little himself. “Yeah? Well, okay then.”
“Okay,” Harry agrees. He holds out his hand for Nick to take, and they walk out of the station hand-in-hand.