Chapter Text
The night hums along in a warm blur, music low, glasses clinking, kids shrieking with laughter somewhere out in the garden. Finn and Alfie are charging around with Jacob, muddy knees and wild grins, their joy carrying through the open back door.
Louis is leaned against the kitchen counter with Harry at his side when Liam sidles up, pint in hand and a mischievous glint in his eye. He nods toward the back garden, where Kate is chatting with Gemma near the door, her laugh carrying over the noise.
“So…” Liam drawls. “Who’s the pretty blonde then?”
Harry blinks. “That’s Kate, Jacob’s mum.” He says it like it’s obvious.
Liam raises his brows, smirk spreading. “Right. And is she single, or…?”
Louis nearly chokes on his drink. “Jesus Christ, Payno.”
Harry bursts into laughter, curls shaking, dimples on full display. “You’re unbelievable.”
“What?” Liam shrugs, grinning like he’s done nothing wrong. “She’s gorgeous. And she laughed at my joke earlier. Could be fate.”
Louis shakes his head, muttering, “It’s a housewarming, not a dating site,” but his lips twitch, giving him away.
Harry leans in, stage-whispering loud enough for Liam to hear, “Imagine it though, our kids already mates, family BBQs, built-in babysitters. Could be perfect.”
Liam brightens like he’s just been handed the plotline for his next five years. “Exactly!”
Louis groans, dragging a hand over his face. “God help us.”
Liam drains the last of his pint, winks at Louis and Harry like he’s about to do something heroic, then saunters across the room toward Kate. He smooths down his shirt as he goes, muttering something under his breath, probably rehearsing his opening line.
Kate looks up as he approaches, polite curiosity in her eyes. “Hi,” she says, friendly but cautious.
“Evening,” Liam replies, all charm, offering his hand like they’re at some formal gala instead of a house full of shouting kids and casserole dishes. “I’m Liam. Mate of Louis’. Thought I’d come say hello properly.”
Kate shakes his hand, amused. “Kate. Jacob’s mum.”
“I know,” Liam says smoothly, leaning just slightly on the counter. “Harry filled me in. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”
Across the room, Louis has his arms folded, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “He’s actually doing it,” he mutters.
Harry’s grinning so hard his dimples could crack. “Look at him, full dad-flirt mode. He thinks he’s James Bond.”
Louis snorts, shaking his head. “More like Mr Bean.”
Harry laughs into his drink, eyes never leaving the scene as Liam leans in, animated, clearly trying to make Kate laugh. To her credit, she doesn’t look put off, if anything, her smile’s growing.
Louis groans. “If this works, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
Harry nudges him with his shoulder, smirking. “If it works, we’re stuck double-dating at play centres.”
Eventually the Liam-and-Kate sideshow loses its novelty, and Louis drifts away from Harry’s orbit. He grabs another drink on the way, steels himself, and makes his way toward the sofa where his mum and Anne are holding court.
Beth is still there, legs crossed neatly, wine glass in hand. She looks like she’s trying her best to blend in while also being very aware she doesn’t, at least not anymore.
Jay brightens when Louis sits, patting his knee like he’s just come home from war. “There’s my boy.”
Anne smiles warmly. “We were just comparing notes on you and Harry when you were little terrors.”
Louis groans, tipping his head back. “Brilliant.”
Beth chuckles softly, and Louis feels his chest squeeze. He glances at her, forces his voice steady. “How’re you doing? You alright?”
She blinks, surprised he asked, but nods. “Yeah. I am. It’s nice, actually. Being here.”
Louis nods, fiddling with the rim of his glass. “Good. I’m glad you came.”
Jay watches them both with a sharp, protective eye, but her hand rests on Louis’ shoulder, grounding. Anne, bless her, keeps the conversation flowing, leaning toward Beth with an easy smile. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. And I have to say, you both raised a wonderful little boy.”
Beth smiles faintly, eyes flicking to Louis. “Well, I picked a good man to be his dad.”
Louis shifts awkwardly in his seat, Beth’s words still sitting heavy between them. Compliments about the past always land strange now, like they belong to another life.
Beth clears her throat, glancing toward the garden where Finn’s laugh carries in over the hum of the party. “He seems happy. That’s what matters.”
Louis nods, forcing the words out steady. “Yeah. He is.”
The silence stretches just a bit too long, awkward around the edges. Louis fiddles with the label on his beer bottle, Beth sips her wine like it might give her something else to say.
Jay, never one to let discomfort stew, cuts in gently. “You definitely did, love.” Her hand rests on Louis’ shoulder, firm and warm. “Even if things changed for you two, Finn’s a good kid. That’s what counts.”
Beth’s lips twitch, her smile small but genuine. “Yeah. He’s the best.” She looks at Louis then, just for a second, and it’s not bitter. Just… resigned. A quiet acknowledgment of where they are now.
Louis manages a half-smile back, throat tight and lifts his beer to his mouth, but his eyes snag on something as Beth tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The glint of gold catches the light. Her wedding ring. Still on her finger.
His chest goes tight.
He tries not to stare, but once he’s noticed, it’s impossible to unsee. It feels strange, final paperwork in his pocket, and yet here she is, still wearing the band on her finger that says otherwise.
Beth must catch the flicker of his gaze, because her hand shifts on her wineglass, thumb rubbing over the metal like she suddenly remembers it’s there. For a heartbeat, her expression falters.
Louis clears his throat, eyes dragging back up to hers. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t call it out. Just says quietly, “Finn’s lucky to have you.”
Beth exhales, shoulders dipping as she murmurs, “And to have you.” She takes another sip, letting the ring clink softly against the glass, not offering an explanation.
Jay pats Louis’ shoulder again, as if she feels the undercurrent but chooses not to dig at it.
Louis clears his throat, the words sticking in his chest. “Excuse me a sec,” he mutters, setting his bottle down. Jay gives him a look but doesn’t stop him. He slips through the living room, past the laughter and the chatter, and down the hall to the bedroom.
The moment the door clicks shut behind him, the buzz of the party dulls to a muffled hum. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair.
Why? Why would she still be wearing the ring? After everything. After months of paperwork, after agreements and late-night phone calls, after the solicitor’s email that made it official just this week. Done. Finished.
And yet there it was, gleaming on her finger like none of it ever happened.
His chest twists, ugly thoughts tumbling over each other. Does she still want him? Is she stuck? Is it just habit, or worse, does she wear it because she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s not married anymore? Because she doesn’t want to admit it failed?
Louis presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He knows he shouldn’t care, it’s done, it’s over, he’s got Harry now, and god, Harry’s everything. But seeing that ring felt like a punch to the gut. Like he’s still tethered to something he thought he’d cut loose.
He drops his hands, staring at the floor, his breath uneven. The muffled sound of Finn laughing outside drifts in through the window, grounding and cruel all at once. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself.
Harry does a sweep of the living room first, craning his neck toward the kitchen, then the back garden. Nothing. He pads back toward the sofa where Jay is perched, wine glass in hand, keeping half an eye on Finn darting around outside.
“Jay, have you seen Lou?” Harry asks, trying to keep his voice casual.
She tips her head. “Slipped off a few minutes ago, love. Might be in your bedroom.”
At that, Beth, still sitting nearby, visibly winces, eyes darting down to her glass, fingers tightening around the stem. Harry notices, but he doesn’t linger. He just hums his thanks and makes his way down the hall.
The bedroom door is shut, but the faint creak of the mattress gives Louis away. Harry knocks softly, then eases it open.
Louis is perched on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging useless between them. His eyes are distant, jaw tight. He doesn’t even look up when the door clicks shut again.
Harry crosses the room slowly, crouching a little in front of him. “Hey,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
Louis exhales through his nose, sharp and unsteady, and drags a hand over his face. “She’s still wearing her ring. After everything, after it’s all done, she’s still got it on.”
Harry’s chest twists at the words. He reaches out, steady fingers curling around Louis’ knee. “Alright. Talk to me.”
Louis drags both hands down his face, words tumbling out before he can stop them.
“Maybe it’s not even a big deal, right? Maybe I’m just,” he shakes his head, restless. “But this is supposed to be our night. Our housewarming. Our, fuck, I don’t know, our debut to the world or some shit. Like, look, here we are, this is our life now, our family. And she’s just… sitting out there, with my mum, wearing her fucking wedding ring like nothing’s changed.”
His voice cracks at the edges, sharp with frustration. “It’s like she’s still tethering me to something I’ve already walked away from. Like, like it makes me look like I’m still halfway in it when I’m not. I’m not, H, you know I’m not.”
Harry squeezes his knee, waiting until Louis finally looks at him, eyes bright and unsettled. “I know, love. I know.”
Louis swallows hard, shoulders sagging. “I just… I wanted tonight to feel clean. Ours. And now I can’t stop bloody staring at her hand.”
Harry shifts closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the side of his face. “Then look at mine instead.”
His thumb brushes gently across Louis’ cheekbone. “Hey. Breathe for me, alright? Just breathe.”
Louis lets out a shaky exhale, but his knee bounces, restless. “I know it’s stupid. I know. But it’s like she’s making some statement and I don’t even know what it is. And it’s right there, H, it’s…”
“I know,” Harry cuts in softly, steady as stone. “But maybe it’s not about you.”
Louis blinks, jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”
Harry shifts, sitting on the bed beside him now, their knees touching. “You were a big part of her life. Years of it. Maybe she’s just not ready to let go of the last bit yet. That ring’s not a promise anymore, it’s just… a reminder. Something she hasn’t figured out how to put away.”
Louis stares at him, throat tight. “You really think that?”
Harry nods, unwavering. “People hold on in different ways. Doesn’t mean she wants you back. Doesn’t mean she’s trying to step into this. It’s just her way of… catching up to where we already are.”
Louis looks down at their joined knees, Harry’s hand still firm on his leg. His chest aches, but it’s softer now, less frantic. “Feels like it’s gonna be a long time before everything’s untangled.”
Harry leans in, presses a kiss to his temple. “Then we’ll take it one knot at a time. Together.”
Louis lets out a shaky huff of a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Christ. What did I do to deserve you?”
Harry tips his head, curls brushing Louis’ shoulder, lips quirking. It makes Louis’ throat tighten all over again, but this time in the good way. He cups Harry’s jaw, thumb stroking over the dimple that’s peeking through. “I love you so much, you know that? More than I can ever say.”
Harry’s smile softens, eyes shining as he leans in, their foreheads pressing together. “And I love you. Always.”
Louis closes the gap, kissing him slow, tender, a quiet promise more than anything else. The noise of the party hums faintly through the walls, but right here, it’s just them, steady, safe, exactly where they’re meant to be.
When they finally step back into the hum of the living room, the shift is immediate, laughter, glasses clinking, Niall’s voice booming over everyone else. Jay’s sharp eyes clock them straight away.
“Everything alright?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a thread of mum-concern running through it.
Louis nods, quick but steady. “Yeah. Just had to check on something.”
Jay studies him for a beat longer, then seems satisfied, turning back to Anne with a little hum.
Harry, though, Harry’s beaming like Louis has just handed him the moon. He reaches up without thinking, brushing his fingers gently across Louis’ cheek, tender in a way that doesn’t need an audience.
Louis swallows, the touch grounding him all over again.
“Gonna check on the boys,” Harry murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before slipping toward the back door.
Louis watches him go, his chest easing, and when he looks back, Jay’s smiling at him knowingly. He just shakes his head, cheeks warm as he reaches for his drink and takes a long sip.
Lottie corners him near the hallway, tugging him by the elbow with that no-nonsense little-sister glare. “You okay?” she asks, quiet but direct.
Louis forces a shrug. “I’m fine.”
She tilts her head, unconvinced. “So… why’s Beth here?”
He blows out a breath, glancing back toward the sofa where Beth is still perched with Jay and Anne. “Didn’t want her to feel excluded. Just ‘cause I fucked up doesn’t mean she should be pushed out. Finn doesn’t need that.”
Lottie softens a little, but her eyes are still sharp. “Yeah, but Lou… she’s still wearing the ring.”
Louis groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t even get me fucking started.”
Her lips twitch, the corner of her mouth betraying her. “Reckon she’s trying to make a point?”
Louis narrows his eyes, stepping closer. “Reckon you’re trying to wind me up?”
Before she can dodge, he pokes her in the ribs. She squeaks, swatting at his arm, and just like that they’re tussling like teenagers again, him jabbing her side, her shoving at his shoulders, both of them trying to keep quiet while muffled laughter escapes anyway.
“Grow up!” Lottie hisses through a giggle, smacking him half-heartedly.
“Make me!” Louis grins, ducking another swing and catching her in a quick hug that turns into another poke.
They’re both breathless by the time they straighten up, trying to look composed before heading back toward the noise of the party.
“You’re an idiot,” she mutters, grinning despite herself.
“Runs in the family,” Louis shoots back, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walk.
Harry slips back in from the garden, cheeks pink from the cold, curls ruffled from where one of the boys clearly tackled him. He’s laughing under his breath as he shakes dirt off his sleeves.
“Alright,” he says, voice carrying easily. “Three kids sugared up, settled with biscuits and a film. We’ve got about an hour before they riot.”
The room chuckles. Niall shouts something cheeky, Anne rolls her eyes fondly, and Harry just grins, dimples flashing.
And then, he does what Harry does. He moves through the room like sunlight: topping up drinks without anyone asking, checking plates, making sure everyone’s looked after. He crouches to pick up Jacob’s forgotten toy before someone steps on it. He leans down to thank Kate for bringing that dip, murmurs something that makes her laugh. He even pauses by Beth, offering her a fresh glass of wine with a gentle smile. “You okay? Need anything?” he asks softly. She nods, almost startled, but grateful.
And through it all, he keeps drifting back to Louis, touching him in passing, fingers brushing his back, a squeeze to his shoulder, a smile aimed only at him like he’s the sun Harry orbits around.
Louis watches, chest aching in that soft way that makes his throat tight. He doesn’t even try to stop the smile tugging at his mouth.
Jay catches Louis watching him, eyes shining, and squeezes his arm. “You found a good one there, love.”
Louis swallows hard, eyes never leaving Harry as he laughs at some ridiculous story Niall’s telling. “Yeah,” he says quietly.
The night starts to thin out, laughter softening as glasses empty and people slip their coats on. Finn and Alfie have long since conked out on the sofa, curled together under a blanket with Jacob sprawled half across them.
Beth is the first to stand, slipping her arms into her coat. She smooths her hair back, then looks toward Louis and Harry with a faint, wavering smile. “Thank you,” she says, voice quiet but clear. “For inviting me. You didn’t have to.”
Louis opens his mouth, but Harry beats him to it, stepping forward with that easy, open warmth that seems to disarm everyone. “Of course we did,” he says, drawing her into a hug before she can protest. He squeezes, gentle but genuine, then leans back enough to meet her eyes.
“You’re always welcome here,” he says, his tone soft but steady. “We’re a family, one way or another. And I really appreciate the grace you’ve shown through all of… this.”
Beth blinks at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before something in her posture eases. Her lips curve into a small smile, not bitter, not sharp, just tired, but real. “Thank you, Harry.”
Louis watches, something twisting in his chest, relief, maybe, tangled with gratitude. He nods once, offering quietly, “Safe drive, yeah?”
Beth nods back, then bends briefly to kiss Finn’s sleeping head before slipping out the door.
The room exhales with her absence.
The front door clicks shut behind her, and for a moment there’s a quiet ripple across the room, like everyone’s recalibrating. Then Niall, of course, is the first to break it.
He throws his hands up, dramatic as ever. “Jesus Christ, Tommo! Little heads up next time, yeah? Nearly choked on me pint when she walked in.”
Louis groans, dragging a hand over his face. “Christ, Niall!”
“Don’t ‘Christ, Niall’ me,” he shoots back, eyes wide. “That was your ex-wife sittin’ on the sofa with your mum and your fella’s mum like it’s Sunday roast! Nearly had a stroke!”
Lottie pipes up from the other end of the room, arms folded but smirking. “He’s right though, Lou. Bit of warning would’ve been nice.”
Louis levels them both with a flat look. “What do you want me to do, send out a fucking newsletter? Special guest appearance from Beth, tickets on sale now?”
Niall cackles, clapping his knee. “Would’ve helped, mate!”
Harry, ever the peacemaker, is already laughing as he tidies glasses off the table. “You lot are so dramatic. She was lovely.”
“Lovely?” Niall repeats, scandalised. “She’s your boyfriend’s ex-wife! That’s not lovely, that’s…” he waves his hands around helplessly “that’s EastEnders!”
Louis chucks a balled-up napkin at him. “Shut up, you muppet.”
Lottie’s grin only widens as she sips her drink. “Still weird though.”
Louis groans, throwing himself into the armchair. “Never inviting family again.”
As the teasing dies down, Jay clears her throat pointedly, cutting through the noise like only she can. “Well, I thought it was lovely to see her,” she says, calm but firm. “And nice to see everyone getting along.”
Louis lifts his brows, caught between exasperation and agreement. “Yeah, well…”
Before he can finish, Lottie snorts into her glass. “God knows you don’t deserve her kindness, with what you did.”
The room bursts out laughing, Niall nearly choking on what’s left of his beer, Liam smacking the sofa in delight.
Louis groans, rolling his eyes. “Alright, pack it in.”
Jay gives Lottie the mum look, but Harry’s already laughing, curls bouncing, dimples deep. He sets down the glasses he’s collecting and shakes his head, grinning at Louis like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.
“Don’t worry, love,” Harry teases, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “You’ve got me now. Kindness and all.”
Louis huffs a laugh despite himself, leaning into him with a muttered, “Lucky me.”
One by one, the house starts to thin. Niall’s the loudest on his way out, shouting his goodbyes from the doorway like he’s announcing the end of a football match. Oli and Ed clap Louis on the back, Liam lingers long enough to help tidy up stray bottles.
When Kate finally stands to go, Jacob is fast asleep on the sofa, cheek pressed to the cushion, hair stuck up every which way. She looks a bit flustered, glancing down at him.
“Need a hand?” Liam offers immediately, already setting his pint glass aside.
Kate hesitates, then nods, relief in her eyes. “If you don’t mind?”
“Course not,” Liam says, scooping Jacob up with easy dad strength, the boy curling instinctively against his chest.
Louis and Harry trail them to the door. Kate hugs them both, quick but genuine, careful not to jostle Jacob. “Thank you for having us. And Liam, he’s lovely.”
Harry grins, dimples flashing. “He’ll be insufferable now you’ve said that.”
Louis smirks, muttering, “Already is.”
Kate laughs softly, then follows Liam out to the car, the two of them chatting low as they go.
Jay, Lottie, Anne and Gemma follow not long after, arms full of leftovers and coats, offering last hugs and kisses before disappearing into the night. The house finally exhales, quiet settling in like a blanket.
The house is finally quiet, just the low hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the clock. Finn and Alfie are out cold on the sofa, tangled in blankets, Jacob’s toy car still clutched in Alfie’s hand. Louis pauses in the doorway, arms folded, just… looking. His chest loosens seeing them like that, safe and happy.
Harry sidles up behind him, looping his arms lazily around Louis’ neck, chin resting on his shoulder. “Leave them,” he murmurs. “They’ll be fine there for the night.”
Louis hums, still staring, but lets himself lean back into Harry’s warmth as he presses a kiss just under Louis’ ear, voice dipping into that wicked lilt. “Come on, love. Post-party shower?”
Louis huffs a laugh, finally glancing at him. “Shower?”
“Mmhm.” Harry grins, all dimples and mischief. “Get all that ex-wife off ya.”
Louis bursts out laughing, shaking his head.
Harry nips at his jaw, tugging gently. “I promise I’m much more fun than the washing up.”
Louis groans, pretending to fight it, but his smile gives him away. “Christ. Alright. But if one of them wakes up, you’re explaining why we abandoned them in the living room.”
Harry just beams, tugging him toward the hall. “Deal.”
In the bathroom, steam already curling up from the hot spray, Harry’s got that wicked little grin plastered across his face as he peels his jumper off and tosses it somewhere near the hamper.
Louis leans against the sink, arms folded, watching him like he’s trying not to smile. “You’re awfully smug for someone who nearly slipped carrying the drinks earlier.”
Harry gasps dramatically. “That was choreography, thank you very much.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Louis’ jeans, tugging him closer. “Now strip, or I’ll do it for you.”
Louis chuckles, shaking his head, but obliges, kicking off his shoes, tugging his shirt over his head. Harry’s eyes sweep over him shamelessly, curls falling into his face as he smirks.
By the time they step under the water, the heat makes them both sigh in unison. Harry grabs the shampoo, squirts far too much into his palm, and works it into Louis’ hair with exaggerated, dramatic “salon hands.”
“Mhm sir,” Louis drawls, eyes closed as Harry massages his scalp. “Five star service.”
Harry snickers, leaning in to kiss the side of his neck, suds dripping between them. “Shut up.”
Louis tilts his head back, letting Harry rinse his hair, then retaliates by grabbing the soap and smearing it deliberately across Harry’s chest. “Oi!” Harry yelps, laughing as Louis takes his sweet time smoothing the suds over his skin, fingertips lingering, teasing.
It devolves from there, slick hands roaming, mouths finding each other between bursts of laughter. Harry presses Louis back against the tiled wall, kissing him through the steam, his hands gliding down his sides. Louis nips at his bottom lip, one hand sliding over Harry’s soapy hip.
“Thought this was supposed to be a wash,” Louis teases against his mouth.
Harry grins, curls plastered to his forehead, eyes bright. “Multitasking, babe.” He kisses him again, deeper this time, water pounding over their shoulders as they cling, playful touches turning slow, lingering, every press of lips and hands threaded with love as much as want.
Louis’ laugh breaks against Harry’s mouth, but the sound turns into a sharp inhale when Harry’s hand slides lower, fingers wrapping around him under the spray.
“Fuck, H,” Louis groans, head knocking back against the tile. The water cascades down his chest, mixing with Harry’s slick hand as he strokes, slow and deliberate.
Harry grins, breathless, eyes dark as he kisses along Louis’ jaw. “Told you I was more fun than washing up.”
Louis barks out a laugh, cut off by a moan when Harry squeezes just right. “Cocky little shit.”
Harry shifts and wraps his fingers around both of them at once, slick and hot, their cocks pressed tight together in his grip. Louis groans, the sound ripped out of him, forehead pressing against Harry’s.
“Fuck, baby,” Louis rasps, thrusting into Harry’s fist, the friction almost dizzying.
Harry moans in response, his lips brushing Louis’ jaw. “God, that feels so fucking good.”
Their hips move in sync, rutting hard against each other, Harry’s hand stroking them both, water cascading over their bodies. Louis nips at his lip, teeth sharp, and Harry gasps, nails digging into his shoulder with his free hand.
It’s frantic, slippery and unbearably intimate, skin sliding, cocks grinding, every kiss broken by panting breaths. Louis’ grip tightens on Harry’s arse, pulling him closer, closer still, until there’s no space left between them.
Harry tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut, his hand pumping faster. Louis kisses him hard, swallowing the sounds falling from his lips, their bodies shuddering as the heat coils low, building quick and unstoppable.
The playful edge is gone now, what’s left is raw hunger, desperate friction and two boys completely lost in each other under the pounding spray.
Louis holds Harry tighter, both of them slick with water and sweat, Harry’s hand working them together in a rhythm that’s maddening. Every thrust, every slide makes Louis’ head spin, makes his breath come ragged.
Harry’s gasping, whimpering into his mouth, but he won’t stop, stroking, grinding, pressing them closer until Louis can’t tell where he ends and Harry begins.
“Fuck, baby, slow down,” Louis groans, hips jerking helplessly.
Harry shakes his head, curls plastered to his forehead, lips swollen from kissing. “No, I wanna feel you. I wanna…” His voice breaks, a high, needy sound.
Louis growls low, biting at Harry’s lip, then pulls back just enough to look at him, his flushed cheeks, his blown pupils, his hand moving desperate between them. The sight alone nearly undoes him.
“Christ. You’re, fuck, you’re killing me,” Louis pants, grinding harder, chasing it. He fists Harry’s curls with one hand, holding him steady as his other hand clutches at his hip.
Harry lets out a choked moan, twisting his wrist just right, and it tips them both over the edge.
Louis’ orgasm rips through him first, hot and blinding, spilling across Harry’s stomach, his chest, slicking between them. His whole body trembles with the force of it, head buried in Harry’s shoulder as he groans, “Oh, oh fuck, H!”
Harry follows almost instantly, the sight and the sound too much. He jerks against Louis’ stomach, cock twitching in his fist as he comes with a desperate cry, spilling over their joined hands, his body arching into Louis’.
They collapse against each other under the water, mouths pressed clumsily, breathless and laughing between kisses. The water washes their mess away, but the heat lingers, pulsing between their chests.
Louis strokes Harry’s wet curls back from his face, kissing him softer now, reverent. “My beautiful boy,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but tender.
Harry just smiles against his lips, utterly blissed out.
When the water finally cools, Louis reaches around Harry to turn the tap off, both of them shivering in the sudden quiet. He steps out first, grabbing the stack of towels from the rail.
“Here,” he murmurs, shaking one out and wrapping it snugly around Harry’s shoulders before pulling him close. His arms come around him automatically, cocooning him in warmth.
Harry melts against his chest with a tired little sigh, cheeks pink, curls plastered damp to his forehead. Louis presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, then another to his lips, slow, sweet, nothing like the frantic hunger of minutes ago.
“Better?” Louis asks, voice soft, fond.
Harry hums, eyes fluttering closed as he nods. “Much.”
Louis chuckles, rubbing his hands up and down Harry’s back through the towel. “Good. Don’t want you catching cold after all that, do we?”
Harry snickers against his throat. “You’re such a dad.”
Louis laughs, kissing his wet curls.
They stand there for a while, wrapped up in steam and terrycloth, just breathing each other in. Eventually, Louis nudges Harry gently toward the door. “Come on, love. Let’s get you dressed before the boys wake up and catch us starkers.”
Harry laughs, eyes sparkling, and lets Louis guide him out, still wrapped up in his towel, still held like the most precious thing in the world.
The living room is dark now, only the faint glow of the TV screen lighting Finn and Alfie where they’re sprawled together under a blanket, mouths open, dead to the world. Louis and Harry creep past on tiptoe, towels bundled in their arms, sharing a conspiratorial grin.
In their room, they pull on soft sleep clothes, the mundane comfort of cotton and drawstrings grounding after the rush of the night. Louis drops the towels in a heap, then slides into bed, lifting the duvet for Harry to slip beneath.
As soon as Harry settles, Louis curls in close, arm slung around his waist, face pressed to his shoulder. The warmth, the familiar weight, the quiet, it’s everything he needs.
“I love you,” Louis whispers, lips brushing Harry’s skin.
Harry smiles in the dark, fingers finding Louis’ hand and threading through. “I love you too.”
They breathe together, the hum of the house finally at peace. Within minutes, they’re asleep, tangled up, safe, theirs.