Archive of Our Own

“Just a Stella, thanks,” Louis says as he leans into the bar, voice raised loud enough to carry over the thumping music. The bartender nods and grabs a glass from the rack, spinning it with a flourish, the Stella logo etched on the clear surface coming to life as the amber liquid flows out of the tap and fills the glass.

Louis had lasted all of ten minutes in his tiny, shared room in the backpackers, but the stifling heat and his snoring roommate, Nate, had driven him out in search of a drink. 

Exactly how Nate was able to sleep in that sauna was beyond Louis, although he suspects the stench of weed in the room probably had something to do with easing him into a blissful slumber. Nate wasn’t a bad egg, not really, and he’d been happy to share his stash with Louis on more than one occasion over the last week while they’d been occupying the room together, so he can’t really complain too much.

The bar, conveniently located downstairs, had seemed like a good escape, both for the beer and the terrace with its views across Sydney Harbour. It’s just that Sydney in February is oppressively hot. All. The. Fucking. Time.

It’s not that he wasn’t aware of the heat of the Australian summer, and at least Sydney’s weather is an improvement on the fortnight he’d spent in Adelaide where the mercury had climbed over 40 for five days straight. Although he’s not entirely sure if the 95% humidity in Sydney right now is really that much better. 

The bartender sets his beer down, barely even making eye contact with Louis as he holds out a card reader and Louis taps his phone to pay for his drink. He gives the guys a nod, offering a mumbled ‘Thanks’ before picking up his beer and making his way through the late Friday night crowd in the hopes of finding a spot on the terrace where he can (literally) chill out for a bit.

Sydney is the second last stop on the Australian portion of his holiday, after this, it’s off to Brisbane, and then New Zealand before he heads back home. He’d been dreaming of taking this trip for years, so when he was finally at a loose end in the UK after finishing up his last teaching job, it had seemed like the perfect time to take the leap. No more thinking about it. Time to just jump in feet first. 

The breeze coming off the Harbour feathers Louis’ fringe as he steps out onto the terrace. It’s not too busy and he spies a spare seat at a high table off to the side. Thankfully, the thumping music fades into the background and the chatter from a multitude of conversations fills the air instead. Suited guys and high-heeled women are enjoying each other’s company after the working week, the strong smell of their cologne and perfume mixing with sweat and alcohol in the night air. 

He slides up onto the stool, taking a sip of his beer before setting it on the table and allowing the environment to envelop him. The view from the open-air terrace has to be one of the best in the world with the spot-lit Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House laid out before him. Above, the darkness of the cloud-free night is illuminated by the cityscape and the deep harbour shimmers below. 

He’s halfway through his beer and absorbing the ambient noise of the crowd around him when a man appears on the other side of this table. 

“You have got to be shitting me. I fucking knew it was you.”

Louis nearly chokes on his beer. “Nialler?”

“Tommo!” Niall shouts, a beaming smile fixed on his face as he rounds the table.

Louis sets his beer down just in time to be pulled into a warm embrace, Niall’s cologne invading his senses and the inexplicability of his presence warping his mind.

Niall pulls back, leaving his hand on Louis’ shoulder and staring at Louis like he can’t believe it either. He looks good. The years have obviously been kind to him.

Louis remembers him fondly as a bit scrawny with bandy legs, dyed blonde tips on his thick brown hair, and terrible style. Those days are clearly long gone though. He’s filled out nicely, strong arms and defined muscles, a tuft of chest hair peeking out of his unbuttoned collar, and teeth far straighter and whiter than when Louis had last seen him. 

He looks expensive too. Really expensive. From his Omega watch and Hugo Boss polo shirt to the heavy, silver ring on his pinky finger and dark sunglasses tucked into his breast pocket.

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “What the fuck, mate?”

“This is so random. It’s been, what? Ten years?”

“Something like that. Shit. How’ve you been?”

Niall’s eyes practically sparkle when he replies. “Amazing. Busy. Livin’ the dream, man.”

“That’s awesome.”

“You here alone?” Niall asks and Louis nods. “Come on over to our table, yeah? Wanna catch up properly.”

“Yeah, alright.” Louis slips off his stool and follows Niall through the crowd towards the other side of the terrace where there are four raised-up undercover booths.

The booths are each constructed with horseshoe-shaped seating surrounding a round table in the centre with the padded seats and throw cushions in turquoise, tan, and white. Small tea light candles in clear glass jars add to the ambience and the tabletops are tiled with beautiful blue and green mosaics. The solid roof overhead provides some protection from the weather, while the billowing sheer white curtains allow a certain amount of privacy between each booth. 

“Liam! I was fucking right,” Niall shouts as they approach a handsome-looking guy who bears a striking resemblance to David Beckham, including an impressive array of tattoos. 

Liam, apparently, looks up from his phone, a welcoming smile blooming on his face as Niall sits down, motioning for Louis to take a seat opposite them.

Louis reaches out across the table and Liam takes his offered hand. “Great to meet you. Louis, yeah?”

His English accent is clearly Northern, and Louis’ heart skips a beat with a hint of homesickness, but the feeling passes quickly. “Yup, that’s me. Liam, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam says and withdraws his hand, nodding towards Niall as he says, “This one here nearly pissed his pants when he saw you.”

Louis chuckles. “Gotta say I was pretty shocked when I saw him too.”

“So what’s the deal? How do you two know each other?”

“Tommo and I went to uni together, back in the day. Played in a band too. Shit, haven’t thought about that for ages.”

Louis remembers it well and he smiles. “Jangles. Fuck, yeah.”

Liam gives Louis a quizzical look. “Jangles?”

Louis nods, smirking at the memory of the night they named the band. All sitting in Jet’s garage, smoking weed. They’d reached that point where every idea they had was a revelation and thought they were so clever when they came up with the name for the band. “J for Jet on vocals, A for nothing, N for Niall on base, G for Gavin on drums, L for me on guitar, E for nothing, and S for Spotto who was on keys. Jangles.”

Liam just kind of stares, eyebrows furrowing, before he bursts out laughing. “Ohmygod. That’s awful,” he manages to get out through peels of laughter.

Niall whacks him on the arm with the back of his hand. “Hey. We thought it was super smart.”

“We were high, mate,” Louis counters. “There was absolutely nothing smart about it.”

“Whatever,” Niall dismisses with a wave of his hand. “It was fun while it lasted, but truthfully, we were pretty shit.”

Louis hums in agreement. They really were, is the thing. Each of them individually were alright, but they just didn’t gel as a band. Differing music tastes, a few too many egos to really make it work, and no real idea of what musical genre they wanted to aim for. But that’s all in the past and Louis is far more interested in the here and now. “So what are you doing in Australia?”

“We’re working actually. On tour with Harry Styles,” Niall offers and takes another sip of his beer as Louis’ brain short circuits.

“Holy shit! Seriously?”

“Yup! Liam’s the tour manager and I’m the tech crew manager,” Niall states, the pride evident in his voice. And he has every right to be proud. Harry Styles is a big fucking deal. A global superstar, multiple Grammy award winner, and currently on a sold-out world tour. His musical style isn’t usually what Louis would go for, but there’s just something about him that draws Louis in, and even if it didn’t, he’d be able to appreciate the success he’s achieved. Plus, he’s hot as fuck and is a regular guest star in Louis’ fantasies. So there’s that.

“Mate, that’s fucking amazing,” Louis says in awe as a waiter comes up to the end of the booth and sets down a clear plastic bucket filled with ice and bottles of Stella. 

“Sorry for the delay, guys. Busy night,” the waiter apologises as he collects the few empty bottles and fixes his gaze on Louis’ almost finished drink.

“No worries, mate,” Liam assures him. Louis drains the last of his beer and hands over the glass, the waiter giving them a nod before hurrying off into the crowd.

“Help yourself,” Niall says and grabs a fresh beer for himself. “What brings you to the land Down Under then?”

Louis takes a beer and twists off the top. “Just a holiday. Finished up my last teaching gig and figured now was as good a time as any to take a trip. Doing the backpacking thing for a couple of months.”

“That’s sick,” Niall says and leans back in his seat. “I backpacked through South East Asia with some mates a few years ago. Bit hectic at times, but one of the best things I ever did. What’ve you got planned for the rest of your trip?”

“Gonna stay in Sydney for another week or so, then I’m heading up to Brisbane and over to New Zealand for a couple of weeks before making my way back home to the UK to start looking for a new teaching job.”

“That’s awesome. NZ is amazing. You’re gonna love it,” Niall assures him.

The next few beers are spent regaling each other with tales of their respective adventures, Liam chiming in with his own stories of a road trip across the US when he was just out of uni. The conversation flows easily and Louis feels himself settling into the comfortable back and forth. It’s great catching up with Niall, and Liam is hilarious, as well as being knowledgeable on so many interesting topics, although Louis’ eyes do glaze over a bit when he starts in on NFTs and cryptocurrency.

“So, what’s life like on the road with such a big tour?” Louis asks when there’s a lull in the conversation, curiosity curling in his gut.

Niall and Liam exchange a look that tells Louis there are plenty of stories to share on this subject.

“Mate, it’s awesome. Hard work, but fucking brilliant,” Niall says with a broad smile. “Nothing better. The atmosphere at these places is something else. When the crowd’s pumping, screaming their lungs out, and Haz is smashing it on stage, it’s other-worldly.”

Louis quirks a brow as he grabs another beer from the bucket. “Haz?”

“Harry. We’re good mates now. Been with him for two tours. It’s a tight-knit group and he likes everyone to feel like family, so it’s pretty relaxed. We all do our jobs, but we have a lot of fun too.”

Louis nods in understanding. “That’s really cool. How about you, Liam?”

Liam takes a sip of his beer and sets it down. “I’ve known Haz since the beginning. First tour. Well actually, it wasn’t even really a tour, I suppose. I was his roadie when he was playing tiny venues. Pubs and clubs and stuff back in the UK. It was just Haz, his band, a sound guy, and me. He likes familiarity. Prides himself on knowing everyone on the team, which makes for a great working environment. He’s gotten bigger, of course, but his ego hasn’t grown with it. Still down to Earth.”

“He’s always been a charming son of a bitch,” Niall says with a smirk. “Part of his appeal, really.”

“He seems like a lovely guy, from everything I’ve seen.” Louis isn’t unaware of exactly how charming Harry Styles is. He’s watched and read enough interviews to have observed the effect he has on people, Louis included. He’d often wondered whether it was all an act, just part of the public image he was maintaining, so it’s kind of nice to know that it’s genuine. 

“Alright, I think it’s time to kick this up a notch,” Liam announces, catching the waiter's attention with a wave of his hand. “Tequila?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Niall agrees. “You in, Tommo?”

Louis checks the time on his phone. It’s after 1am, but he has no set plans for tomorrow and he’s really enjoying himself, so he tips his beer in agreement. “Bring it on.”

“Atta, boy,” Niall says and gives Louis a devilish grin.

The waiter makes his way over, weaving through the crowd. “What can I get for you? Another bucket?”

“Yeah, that’d be great and ten shots of Tequila, thanks.”

“Coming right up,” the guy says with a wry smile before taking his leave.

Louis chuckles at the number of shots Niall’s ordered. Raising his eyebrows, he questions, “You guys not working tomorrow?”

Niall shakes his head. “Nah, day off. One more show in Sydney the day after, then we’re heading off to Brisbane for one show before we move the travelling circus over to NZ. Then we’ve got two shows in Auckland and two in Wellington, and after that, we’ve got a week off before we kick off the Asian leg of the tour.”

“Must be crazy at times. But you both seem to love it.”

“Best fucking job on the planet,” Liam offers with a beaming smile. “Seriously. I can’t imagine doing anything else. We get to travel the world. Seeing the sights. Hanging with a great group of people. There’s truly nothing else like it.”

“Too right, Li,” Niall says, clinking the necks of their beers together.

Louis thinks about his chosen vocation. Teaching music was supposed to be a filler gig while he worked out what he wanted to do. That was ten years ago though, and he’s yet to find something that affords him the satisfaction that is clearly evident on both Niall’s and Liam’s faces. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy teaching. He loves imparting his knowledge and helping others learn and grow their craft. He’d just like to do… more. To have something that fulfils him and allows him to extend and challenge himself. Something fun and exciting. He just needs to find what that something is.

“That’s really cool,” is what Louis says instead of sharing his internal thoughts.

The waiter comes back, a tray of shots balanced on the palm of one hand and a fresh bucket of Stella’s in the crook of his arm. “Here you go, guys,” he says as he bends, sliding the bucket into the middle of the table and carefully placing the tray on the table. With a nod of his head, he adds, “Enjoy.”

“So, ten shots?” Louis inquires as he sets down his beer.

“Three each and a spare,” Niall explains like it’s obvious, grabbing one each for himself and Liam.

Louis laughs as he picks up one of the little glasses, the potent smell of the sticky liquor reminding him of their heady uni days; nights spent enjoying the excess of student life and days spent feeling like shit while sitting in lectures.

“What’s the toast?” Louis asks, holding out his shot glass.

Liam and Niall hold their glasses out too, Liam offering, “To old friends and new friends.”

“To old friends and new friends,” they all say in unison, throwing the shots back.

The liquid burns as it slides down Louis’ throat. He hasn’t had Tequila in years, and he’ll likely regret it in the morning, but for now, it tastes a lot like good times and a lot like freedom.

The rest of the shots disappear far too quickly and they play a round of rock-paper-scissors to award the tenth shot, Niall winning out with his paper covering Louis’ rock. Louis doesn’t mind. He’s pleasantly buzzed, or perhaps a little more than buzzed if he’s being honest. He hasn’t gotten properly smashed in what feels like ages, and it’s well past due.

As Niall sets the last shot glass back down on the tray, his phone pings with a notification. He glances down, brows furrowing and eyes squinting before his expression morphs into one of shock. “What the- oh holy shit.”

He immediately picks up the phone, swiping it to life and tapping it a few times before putting it up to his ear.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks, concern evident on his face.

“It’s Gus, he’s-” Niall cuts himself off as the call must connect. “Mate, what’s happened?”

Louis watches as Niall listens intently, eyes closing as he purses his lips. He assumes it can’t be good news if someone has messaged him this late at night. Although it could be someone from the UK, so the time difference would mean it’s a far more reasonable time of the day. 

“Oh, buddy. I’m so sorry… Of course… Don’t worry about that. Family comes first… Yeah. We’ll be fine… You got a flight, yeah? Okay. Don’t worry about that. The tour will cover the cost. Just email me the receipt when you get a chance... No really. Haz wouldn’t hear of you paying for it… Let me know if you need anything else… Stay in touch… Alright, mate. Give my love to the family… Bye, Gus.”

Niall ends the call, letting out a long sigh.

Liam sets down his beer. “What’s going on?”

“Fuck. Gus’ dad has had a heart attack. He’s fine. In hospital. But yeah, Gus has to head back to the UK right away. He’s got a flight booked for tomorrow afternoon.”

Liam’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit. Thank god he’s okay.”

“It’s his second heart attack, so yeah, it could’ve been a lot worse. Luckily he was at home with people around, so they got the paramedics there quickly.”

“That’s good that his dad’s gonna be alright,” Louis offers and Niall nods, his glassy eyes and rosy cheeks belying the fact that his brain must be going a million miles an hour.

“What’re you going to do to fill in for him?” Liam asks, worry etched on his brows. “Can anyone else cover?”

“Not really. Everyone has their jobs to do. Plus, Gus is a specialist. Not an easy replacement to find at short notice. Guitar techs are a breed all of their own.”

Louis stays quiet, sipping on his beer and just letting Niall and Liam try to sort through the issue at hand.

“What about Ira or Hank?”

Niall shakes his head. “Nah. They’re busy with their own stuff and besides, they know the basics, but not enough to fill for the rest of the tour.”

“Can we get someone out from the UK or the US?”

“Yeah, maybe. That’ll take time though.” Niall tips his head back. “Fuck. This is properly shit.”

“I mean we could see if we could get someone local to-”

“Wait!” Niall interrupts, snapping his head back down and fixing his gaze on Louis. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips and he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “So, Tommo,” Niall says all casual and Louis is instantly suspicious. “How much longer did you say you were on holiday for?”

Louis furrows his brows, tilting his head curiously at Niall. “Another month. Brisbane and then over to NZ. Why?”

“And you’re planning on heading to Brisbane and then NZ?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, dragging out the word, the wariness in his voice coming through loud and clear.

The devilish smile that curls Niall’s lips is enough to increase Louis’ heart rate. “Fancy swapping your backpacking accommodation and economy airfares for 5-star hotels and business class flights?”

Louis feels his eyes nearly bug out of his head and even though he thinks he knows where this is going he still asks, “What’re you saying, Nialler?”

“I’m saying… How would you like to be the replacement guitar tech on Harry Styles’ tour?”

Louis fish-mouths, the beer and Tequila sloshing around in his brain and making his head spin. 

“That’s brilliant!” Liam shouts, holding his hand up for Niall to high-five. They slap hands, Niall looking very pleased with himself while Louis is still reeling, rendered mute.

Niall trains his gaze back on Louis. “So. Whaddya say, mate?”

Louis’ mouth opens and closes a few times, words evading him until he finally manages to stammer out a garbled, “I don’t- I mean- holy fuck. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Niall says firmly like it’s Louis who has lost the plot, which, for the record, he hasn’t, but apparently he’s the only rational person at this table because Niall just continues on. “You’re a fucking wizard with guitars. Always were. And I trust you. And you’re here. So you meet all the necessary criteria for the job.”

“Come on. It’ll be awesome,” Liam adds encouragingly. “You’ll love it. The crew is amazing and life on the road is pretty cool.”

Louis glances between them, still in disbelief. “I don’t even know what a guitar tech for a major tour does.”

Niall snorts out a laugh as though Louis is the most ridiculous person on the planet. “They get the gear set-up, have the instruments ready for the transitions, fix any issues, do maintenance and all that. You used to do that in our band and I assume you still do some of that now in your teaching roles right?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But like, this is on a slightly larger, more critical, scale.”

“Same-same,” Niall dismisses with a wave of his hand. “So, will you do it?”

“Uhm…” Louis trails off. He could say no. Could just stick with his holiday plans.

Or…

Or he could grab this opportunity with both hands and potentially change the course of his life. It wouldn’t look too bad having a job like this on his CV, after all, and Niall and Liam must have pretty good connections in the industry. Maybe this could be the career change he’s been looking for?

“You know you want to say yes. So just do it,” Niall says, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Fucking count me in.” Louis raises his beer, holding it out across the table.

“Yes!” Niall and Liam whoop in unison, both of them reaching forward to clink their bottles together.

“This is going to be fucking sick. I promise you won’t regret it,” Niall says, giving Louis a wink.

~*~

Niall’s promises aren’t worth shit and Louis is regretting his decision with every fibre of his being. 

He’s standing in the middle of a room backstage at the venue in Sydney surrounded by more guitars and associated paraphernalia than he’s ever seen in one place in his entire life.

His head is pounding like a son of a bitch. The four hours of sleep he’d managed to steal between leaving the backpackers and checking into the ritzy hotel down the road, and being picked up by a car to bring him to the arena, were nowhere near enough to make him feel human. The caffeine and sugar hit he’d gotten from the coffee and pastries Niall had thrust into his hand when he’d met him at the entrance to the venue had helped a bit, but have long since worn off, and he really just wants to curl up in the corner.

Also, he wants to strangle Niall.

There’s no show today, thank fuck, because Louis has a steep learning curve to traverse in order to get himself ready for tomorrow night. Niall had given him a tour, introduced him to a bunch of people whose names he has little chance of remembering, and done a basic run-through of tour life.

Gus had graciously agreed to come in for a couple of hours before he headed to the airport and had done a rushed handover with Louis. Louis had studiously taken notes and pictures on his phone, trying to sort through all the equipment and, most importantly, the rundown for the show. It’s complex. Really fucking complex. Even just the logistics of the changes themselves are a bit of a mind fuck, swapping out each of Harry’s guitars at the right times, ensuring his gear was at the A stage and the B stage when he needed it, and then there’s the scariest bit; the unknown.

Gus had very successfully scared the shit out of him with nightmare scenarios, things that could happen, things that have happened. Everything that could, and would, go wrong and how Louis would need to respond.

Gus left a few minutes ago with a grateful handshake and a reassuring smile and Louis had tried his best to seem like Gus was leaving everything in his capable hands, but inside, Louis was imploding.

The technical aspects were easy enough. He’s confident in his abilities to do the maintenance side of things in downtime between shows and he knows he’ll be able to do the set-up and pack-up activities with no issue. What he hadn’t considered when he’d agreed to all of this in his slightly drunken state, was the reality of having to manage incidents in real-time. On stage. In front of tens of thousands of people. And global superstar, Harry Styles.

Louis hasn’t met the man in person yet. It’s a day off, after all. But Niall had assured him that he’d get a chance tomorrow before show time.

Louis squares his shoulders and looks around the room. He can do this. He has to do this.

The room is exactly what he’d expected to find backstage at a venue like this; breeze block white bricks making up the four walls, easy to clean dark grey linoleum flooring, and no external windows, meaning the fluorescent lights are doing nothing to ease his persistent hangover headache. But Gus has set it up in a very sensible order, everything labelled and in its place, which appeals to Louis’ ordered mind.

He sighs, feeling overwhelmed and so fucking tired he could cry. Maybe he’ll just grab a cup of tea first.

~*~

For a well-oiled touring machine, the sheer number of incidents and dramas that have to be dealt with backstage is mind-blowing.

Harry’s late arrival is the current drama and the cause of the panicked look on Liam’s face as he paces up and down in the hallway, AirPods in his ears while he waves his hands around, voice raised as he barks out instructions to the poor person on the other end of the line.

Harry had apparently spent the day in interviews at his record label’s Sydney office in the centre of the city and was due back two hours ago. But a pile-up on the motorway between the city and the arena, which is thirty-minutes out of town, has resulted in him being stuck in a massive traffic jam. 

The venue is packed with fans and the support act is already halfway through their set and he’s pretty sure Liam is going to explode if Harry doesn’t arrive soon.

For his part, Louis is as prepared as he can be. All the guitars are on the trolley and ready to be wheeled on stage for him to set up. The B stage gear is good to go as well. Gus had left things in good order, but Louis had still checked and rechecked everything multiple times. Every strap and connection and string. He knows the run sheet and transitions by heart and has spent the last two days intensely listening to Harry’s songs on repeat to make sure he knows them backwards and forwards. Niall had sent him some links to a few taped live shows too, which was super helpful too.

Louis had been a fan of Harry and his music before, but he now has a keen appreciation for Harry as a performer as well. He engages with the crowd and owns the stage in a way Louis has rarely seen from any other artist.

It was comforting though to see that Gus didn’t make an appearance on stage in any of the footage from Niall, which is something Louis definitely wants to avoid if at all possible.

Louis wheels the trolley down the long hallway to get in position. The support act is nearly finished and even if Harry isn’t here yet, Louis still wants to be ready for when he does arrive. 

He turns a corner and is met by a wall of people coming towards him, shouting and heavy footsteps filling the space. At the centre of the chaos is none other than Harry Styles, in a partial state of undress, shirt half off, trousers unzipped, and no shoes on his feet. Liam is barking out orders, as are about five other people, all ushering a very stressed looking Harry along the corridor. His shirt gets thrown off, caught by one of the attendants, another holding out a number of rings her hand, which Harry grabs and slides onto his fingers with practised ease.

Louis guides the trolley off to the side of the wide hallway and out of the way to let the swarm pass him by. It’s not the first time he’s seen Harry Styles shirtless, having poured over enough pictures of him in the years since he burst onto the music scene, but seeing him up close and in person is on a whole other level. He’s fucking gorgeous and Louis is star struck for a moment, rooted on the spot, before he gathers himself and continues along heading towards the stage entrance. He has a job to do.

~*~

As with most disastrous events, everything is going great until it isn’t.

The show had miraculously started on time. Harry had made it to the stage fully dressed, hair done, and with a smile on his face. The fans went absolutely wild as soon as the screens had lifted to reveal the man they’d come to see, and Louis isn’t sure he’ll ever become accustomed to the sheer volume of their screams.

Louis is standing off to the side of the B stage near the sound desk so that he can respond quickly if anything goes wrong and he needs to deal with it swiftly.

Harry had done the first set on the A stage and had moved up to the B stage for some quieter numbers. There have been no incidents with the transitions and things are running smoothly.

Louis is just starting to relax which is, of course, when it happens.

Harry’s chatting with the crowd between songs, charming them as seems to be his default position. Louis is lost in what he’s saying, so he doesn’t immediately register that there’s a problem. Harry’s switched guitars and is fiddling with his strap and it takes a few beats for Louis to realise that taking him too long.

“Now,” Harry says to the crowd. “The next song we’re gonna sing for you is- If I can get my guitar strap on, we will sing a song for you at some point.”

“Fuck.” Louis’ heart leaps up into his throat. He spings into action, covering the short distance at a jog and rounding the stairs, clearing the four treads in one stride. It really would’ve been helpful if he’d managed to at least get introduced to Harry before he had to accost him on stage, but there’s nothing that can be done about that now.

Louis comes up behind Harry, the strong spotlights blinding him briefly before his eyes adjust to the sharp contrast after standing in the dark all night. Harry’s talking into the mic on the stand, fiddling with the connection point for his guitar strap with his right hand. Louis doesn’t think Harry’s realised he’s there yet, still facing towards the audience at the back of the arena.

“The next song we’re gonna sing for you is a song I wrote a few years ago. And uh- I gave it to-”

Louis tries to assess the situation, placing his hand over Harry’s where he’s trying to secure the guitar strap. Harry moves his hand out of the way at Louis’ touch.

It’s not until Harry glances over that the shock washes over his face. He does a double-take and furrows his brows. “Uh- Hullo?”

“Hey,” Louis says quietly in response, hoping the mic doesn’t pick up his voice. “I’m Louis. I’m replacing Gus.”

“Oh,” Harry says directly to Louis before turning back to the mic. “This is Louis. Everybody say hello.”

The crowd goes absolutely ballistic. Screaming out Louis’ name at an almost deafening volume.

Even under ordinary circumstances it would be a lot, but given his current predicament where he is desperately trying to fix a problem, Louis is sweating absolute bullets. 

Louis tries to just focus on the problem at hand and reaches under Harry’s arm where it’s resting on the body of his guitar, trailing the strap to find the end. Harry flinches, obviously surprised by Louis’ action. He’s just doing his job, but he gets how weird this must be for Harry. Some stranger just turning up on his stage and manhandling him.

Louis can’t get a good look at the issue though, so he drops to his knees beside Harry, bringing his eyes in line with the connection point. 

“Oh. Oh! Uhm-” Harry stammers out and Louis raises his gaze briefly, smirking when he realises the implication of the position he’s in.

Harry just grins back down at him, cocking his hip and placing his hand behind his head in an incredibly suggestive pose. He’s a cheeky shit. Louis can’t help but snort out a laugh and he waggles his eyebrows in response because Louis is more than capable of playing along with a bit of flirty banter with global mega stars.

What he isn’t able to do though, is fix the guitar strap while said global megastar is still holding onto the instrument.

“I think it’s broken, mate,” Louis says, taking the weight of the instrument in readiness for Harry to release it. “Need you to let it go.”

Harry smiles all coy and Louis feels all the blood in his body rush south. Awesome. That’s just what he needs. To get a boner on stage the first time he meets Harry and not to mention in front of an arena full of screaming fans.

Harry addresses the crowd with a cute little sheepish, “I’ve broken it.” 

A long ‘awwww’ rings out around the arena in response and Harry glances down at Louis, giving him a wink. Louis grins and shakes his head. This guy is really something.

Harry grabs the mic from the stand and flounces off down the stage, reengaging with the crowd while Louis gets to work.

He reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his little toolkit of handless screwdrivers, pliers, and replacement fittings. It’s simple enough now that he can see it properly. The connection on the end of the strap has come away from its housing. He can’t fix this strap, but all the straps for Harry’s guitars are interchangeable, so he quickly gets to his feet and grabs the one off Harry’s other guitar that’s resting on a stand at the rear of the B stage. Harry won’t need that guitar for the rest of the show, so he swiftly swaps over the straps, coming back to the front of the stage and waiting for Harry to finish singing Happy Birthday to a very excited fan in the crowd.

Harry glances over, raising his eyebrows in question and Louis nods in reply, letting Harry know the problem has been resolved.

“Ahhhh it seems like the Lovely Louis has fixed my guitar, so we can continue the show!” Harry says into the mic and the crowd screams yet again. Louis would very much like to join them.

Lovely Louis? Louis mouths at Harry and earns a devilish smirk in response.

Louis rolls his eyes with a fondness that far exceeds their level of familiarity, holding the neck of the guitar in one hand and the strap in the other. Harry sets his mic back into the cradle on the stand and Louis steps up beside him. “You should be good now.”

Harry leans away from the mic, ducking his head under the strap and letting the body of the guitar rest against his torso. His gaze lands on Louis, eyes twinkling in the spotlights, as he drops his voice low and practically purrs, “I’m always good, Louis.” 

Louis gulps, very nearly swallowing his tongue. Harry’s looking at him with such intensity and it feels like the rest of the world has fallen away, reduced to just the two of them even though they’re surrounded by a sea of thousands of people.

“That’s, uhm. That’s good to know,” Louis murmurs while he lets his hand drag down the strap against Harry’s back, trailing his fingertips to Harry’s forearm and giving it a little squeeze.

Harry smiles, one eyebrow raised in question.

Fuck. Louis has to get a hold of himself. He can’t go around fondling rock stars, who are also technically his employer. That’s just bad form and super inappropriate. Although the hungry look in Harry’s eyes tells him that the attention is certainly not unwelcome. And anyway, Harry started it with the whole Lovely Louis comment, so Louis figures he’s on solid ground.

Louis steps back and Harry gives him a little bow before refocusing his attention on the audience. “Alright! Where were we before our little interlude? Ah yes, this is a song I wrote a few years ago and gave to the wonderfully talented Ariana Grande. If you know the words, sing along.”

Louis heads back to the stairs and retakes his position near the sound desk, butterflies fluttering away in his stomach, and eyes transfixed on the enigma that is Harry Styles. 

~*~

“Nice work, mate,” Niall says as he comes into the gear room. Louis looks up just in time to accept a high five.

“Thanks, yeah. It wasn’t a big issue. Easy fix.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. It can be daunting trying to work under that kind of time pressure, with all the lights and shit, and in front of such a big crowd. You did well.”

Louis chuckles softly as he rests his bum against the empty desk. He’s just finished packing up all the gear for the roadies to load onto the trucks for the trip to Brisbane, so he’s essentially done for the night. 

“It was a bit wild. But I guess it went okay.”

“You thought on your feet, which is critical in a job like this. Or well, you thought on your knees,” Niall adds with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” Louis chides, but there’s no heat behind it. He can handle a bit of teasing and to be fair, he was on his knees. It’s not like he wouldn’t enjoy doing other things on his knees for Harry either, but probably best not to share that with someone who is essentially his boss.

“Speaking of…” Niall trails off, giving Louis an exaggerated wink, and okay, maybe his and Harry’s little flirting display on stage hadn’t been as subtle as Louis had thought. “Harry wants to see you. Wants to make up for not meeting you before the show.”

“Oh! Oh, alright. I thought he’d have been long gone by now.”

“Nah. He prefers to wind down at the venue when he can. Sometimes it isn’t possible because of the fans, but this one is pretty far out of town and the public transport options are timed to coincide with the end of the show. Come on.”

Niall heads out of the room and into the corridor. Louis grabs his backpack and follows, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him. It’s still a hive of activity in the venue. Roadies are rushing about, some with boxes in their hands, others pushing trolleys and crates of equipment, all headed for the loading dock. “It’s such an undertaking,” Louis says as he side-steps a burly man with about fifty cables draped around his neck.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Busy, busy. This is nothing though. The onboard is way crazier than the offboard. Brisbane is particularly shit, to be honest. Their dock is atrocious and the backstage looks like it was designed by someone who enjoys torturing humans in a labyrinth. Nearly lost my fucking mind last time we were there.”

“What’s he like? Harry, I mean.” Louis is curious. Wondering whether their interaction on stage is any gauge of how Harry is in real life when he’s away from the bright lights and screaming fans.

“He’s fucking awesome. Best boss I’ve ever had. Treats every as if they’re family like I said the other night. But he takes his shit seriously, too. He’s a professional and expects everyone to behave in the same way.”

Louis can definitely appreciate that. Harry wouldn’t have risen to his level of success without a good work ethic and Louis is pretty sure Niall wouldn’t be caught dead working for a dickhead diva, no matter what other benefits might be on offer.

Niall slows his steps as he reaches a closed door, a clear plastic frame stuck to the exterior with Harry Styles printed on an A4 piece of paper slid into the casing.

Niall knocks on the door, glances over at Louis and gives him a wink. “Come in!” Harry calls from inside and Louis’ stomach does a little swoop.

“Don’t be weird with him,” Niall instructs. “Remember. He’s just like us.”

“Sure he is,” Louis says, words dipped in sarcasm.

Niall walks backwards down the hallway, nodding towards the door and with a final smirk, he spins and strides away.

Louis takes a deep breath and grips the handle, but he doesn’t have time to turn it before he’s being yanked forwards. He drops the handle, but it’s too late, he’s already falling, eyes closing reflexively and mouth gaping open on a cry as he’s startled.

A strong pair of hands grab his hips to steady him as he nose dives into a bare chest. It’s warm and firm and it takes him a beat to realise that his mouth is still open and is now filled with a puffy nipple.

Jesus Christ.

He pulls back, closing his mouth and pushes himself off the human wall. Before he even braves a glance upwards he knows what he’s going to find, and sure enough, when he does, Harry Styles is grinning right down at him.

“You certainly are good at making a memorable entrance, aren’t you,” Harry states, his big hands sliding up from Louis’ waist and coming to rest on Louis’ shoulders.

There are honestly people Louis has known for years that he hasn’t touched as much as he’s touched Harry in the couple of hours since he met him.

Louis can feel the flush on his cheeks, but he pays it no mind. His body might be showing signs of embarrassment, but his bravado is already kicking up a notch to counter it. 

“Well, I’ve always had a flare for the dramatic,” Louis says cheekily, lips curling up into a grin.

“I don’t doubt that. Come on in.”

Harry steps back, hands falling from Louis shoulders and he kind of misses Harry’s touch already.

Louis steps over the threshold and it’s like he’s transported into a whole different world. He whistles, long and low as he takes it all in. “Holy shit. Nice place you’ve got here.”

The space is lucious, that’s really the only way to describe it. Thick black curtains frame the entire space, covering the breeze block walls, Persian rugs on the floor to hide the linoleum, and potted plants dotted around the room. There are two plush looking leather sofas in the middle of the centre and border a coffee table, bottled water and a bowl of fruit sit on top of a long table off to the side with more black cloth draped over it, soft lamplight casting a golden hue and softening every surface. 

“Thanks. I like to keep my backstage environment consistent wherever I go. So this will all get packed up and shipped to the next venue.”

Louis walks further inside, picking up on little details; the Mac and a pile of papers on the coffee table, a guitar propped up against the couch, another long table on the far wall, an open suitcase sat on top with clothes spilling out. “It’s really nice, Harry. Feels homey.”

“Yeah, I like the calming effect it has on me. So, uhm,” Harry says and Louis turns, finding Harry sitting on the arm of the couch. “I’m really sorry we didn’t get to meet before the show.”

“That’s alright. It was all a bit crazy. I appreciate you taking the time now.”

Louis leans back against the table with the water and fruit, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Of course,” Harry says and crosses his legs at the ankles. His feet are bare like his chest, low slung black sweatpants stretched over his thighs. “I like to get to know everyone who is part of our tour family.”

“Niall mentioned, yeah. I think that’s really good of you. Must make the experience better for you too. Being away from home for so long.”

Harry nods and gives Louis a small smile. “It really does.”

As easy silence extends between them as they regard each other. Harry’s gaze is intense, but not imposing in a way that makes Louis feel uncomfortable. He really is just a guy, like Niall had said. An incredibly attractive, successful, talented, famous guy for sure, but yeah, he’s still human. 

Louis is startled by a knock on the open door of Harry’s dressing room. “Hey, Haz,” Liam says and Harry twists around. “You right if we pack all this up? The final truck is ready for loading.”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll just sort out my things,” Harry says and stands, picking up his laptop and phone from the coffee table.

“Cheers, mate. Oh, hey, Louis. Y’alright?”

“Good thanks. I’ll uhm- I should leave you to it. Head back to the hotel.”

Louis starts making his way to the door as two burly men stride into the room. 

“Why don’t you come back to the hotel with me?” Harry asks and Louis stops in his tracks. He glances over to where Harry is standing in front of his suitcase, his back to Louis.

“What?”

Harry turns, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I mean. We’re going to the same hotel. You could just come in my car. I don’t feel that we really got to chat properly.”

“Uhm- okay?”

“Great! Just gimme a sec.”

Louis steps out of the way of the roadies who have already started to take the room apart, two more men coming in through the door. It’s like a well-oiled machine, which makes sense, they’ve obviously done this same routine for the entire tour.

Louis watches on as the couches are carried out, the rugs rolled up, and the curtains begin to be taken down. But even with all the activity around him, he still finds it hard to keep his eyes off Harry.

Harry flits about, collecting the rest of his personal things and zipping up his suitcase before slipping on a pair of worn Vans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt.

Without his tattoos on display and in such understated attire, he could almost pass for one of the crew. Almost. 

Harry slings a shoulder bag over his head and slides his suitcase off the table and onto the floor, extending the handle and wheeling it behind him.

“You ready?” Harry asks as he comes towards Louis.

“Yeah, sure.”

Louis is a bit overwhelmed that he’ll be travelling back to the hotel with him, but he suspects it won’t just be the two of them.

That suspicion is confirmed when they step outside of Harry’s dressing room and a large, heavy-set man with a shiny bald head starts trailing them down the corridor.

“Louis, this is Max, my security.”

Louis looks over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, Max. Good to meet you.”

“Louis,” Max says with a curt nod.

Harry bumps shoulders with Louis. “Max is a man of few words.”

“I just choose them carefully, Harold,” Max counters, the smirk in his voice coming through crystal clear. Louis likes him instantly.

“Harold?” Louis queries and hears Harry huff out a laugh.

“M’name’s not Harold, Maximilian.” 

Louis chuckles, enjoying the easy banter between Harry and Max, pleasantly reassured to witness how relaxed Harry is with those that work for him, just as Niall had said.

They round the corner to the loading dock and it’s still bustling with activity as expected. There’s a massive black SUV idling off to the side, doors open to reveal some more people Louis hasn’t met, but he assumes they’re part of the requisite entourage that is par for the course for someone in Harry’s position.

“Good evening, Sir,” the driver greets Harry as they approach. He’s tall, really fucking tall. At least 6 foot 5, but Louis has always been shit at judging people’s height, so he might be more than that. He’s in his mid-forties, Louis would guess, wearing a black suit and a crisp white shirt, shoes polished to a mirrored shine, clean shaven with slicked back salt and pepper hair. He looks every bit the stereotypical chauffeur.

“Quentin. How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

“My apologies. Good evening, Harry.”

“Much better.” Harry wheels his suitcase around and Quentin loads it up into the back. “Quentin, this is Louis. He’s coming back to the hotel with us.”

“Very good, S- Harry. Nice to meet you, Louis,” Quentins says and shuts the rear door, extending his hand for Louis to shake.

“You too, Quentin. Thanks for the lift.”

Harry leads Louis around to one of the open doors. “Poor Quentin here had to put up with my two-hour-long hissy fit when we got stuck in that traffic jam before the show. He actually did an excellent job of trying to calm me down,” Harry says with a little chuckle as he motions for Louis to get inside. “I wasn’t exactly being the best version of myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis queries as he climbs into the vehicle, settling into one of the empty seats in the middle row that appears to have been left purposefully unoccupied pending Harry’s arrival.

Harry slides in beside him, dropping his shoulder bag onto the floor. “At one point I may have suggested we call in a helicopter to extract me and get me to the venue, but luckily he talked me down.”

Louis snorts out a laugh as he buckles up. “A helicopter?”

Harry shrugs, looking at least a little bit sheepish as he fastens his own seatbelt. “What? It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Did it now,” Louis deadpans, and Harry just grins at him as Max closes the door and takes his place up front next to Quentin. 

“Yeah. Anyway, Louis, this is Maria, my PA. That’s Mike, her assistant, and Julian from the label,” he says, pointing to each person in turn. “Everyone say hi to Louis. He’s very graciously agreed to fill in for Gus for a while.”

Louis reaches around and shakes each person’s hand in turn, the group then exchanging some pleasant chit chat as Quentin guides the car out of the venue and onto the motorway. 

Harry stays mostly quiet, scrolling through his phone and letting the conversation flow around him, but Louis still watches him out of the corner of his eye. It’s easy to forget he’s a global superstar, but those brief moments are quickly overtaken by the constant reminders surrounding them; his security detail up front, the entourage of people in the car, the huge SUV, and then there’s Harry himself. He’s effortlessly cool, but down to earth at the same time, a contradiction that makes him an enigma.  

The city is relatively quiet as they approach the hotel and turn down into the underground carpark. Quentin pulls the vehicle to a stop in the loading dock, jumping down and opening Harry’s door before going around to the back to retrieve his suitcase.

Louis slides out of the car behind Harry and they all make their way up the ramp to the goods lifts. It’s certainly a different experience than coming in through the extravagantly decorated lobby upstairs, but Louis supposes it’s a necessary step to take to avoid any unwanted encounters. It gives him a moment's pause though, this different kind of life Harry has to live because of his fame, although Harry doesn’t seem all that bothered by it.

Max presses the button for the lift and takes his place beside Harry as they all wait patiently for it to arrive. The others are talking amongst themselves, but Louis just stays silent, observing Harry as he interacts with his team, his tour family. It’s nice, is the thing, the ease with which he addresses them all; little teasing gestures, in-jokes, chatter about tonight’s show and the trip to Brisbane tomorrow afternoon. 

The conversations continue as they ride up to the floor that has been booked out for the tour and they all pile out of the lift. Louis is about to say his goodnights and head off to his room, when Harry’s hand grips onto his arm. Louis slows and turns. “Hang back for a minute,” Harry says as the other’s peel off into their rooms, Max walking to the end of the corridor to what Louis assumes is Harry’s room.

“What’s up?”

Harry smiles softly. “We didn’t really get to talk much back at the venue. Can I interest you in a nightcap?”

Louis swallows thickly. “Uhm- Yeah, sure.”

Louis doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but there’s a definite heat in Harry’s gaze. He’s not opposed the evening taking a turn, but he’s also not convinced that fucking his employer is a super smart idea either, and certainly not on the first day he meets him.

Max comes out of Harry’s room and gives him a nod. “All good. You’re in for the night?”

“Yeah, thanks, Max. See you in the morning.”

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Louis says as Max walks past them.

“And you, Louis.”

Harry holds the door open for Louis to go inside, following in after him and letting the door click shut behind. They toe off their shoes and Harry sets his suitcase down on the luggage rack, Louis dropping his backpack onto one of the chairs at the dining table.

Harry’s suite is massive, which is to be expected. The floor to ceiling windows frame the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House with the twinkling city lights shimmering on the water.

“Nice digs,” Louis offers as he walks over to the windows, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

“Gorgeous, right? Sydney is such a stunning city. Australia in general, really. Love it here.”

“You enjoy the travel then?” Louis asks as he hears Harry pottering about in the kitchenette.

“I do. It’s one of the best perks, to be honest.”

“I’d think there would be a lot of perks in your job,” Louis says and turns to find Harry coming towards him with two bottles of beer in one hand, long fingers stretched around the necks.

“There are. There are sacrifices too, but I have no complaints. Wouldn’t swap it for anything in the world.”

Harry hands over one of the bottles and Louis takes it, bringing it to his lips and taking a swig, the cool liquid quenching a thirst he didn’t know he had. He watches Harry do the same, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. 

Louis surveys the room. “I kinda thought it would look different in here.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry says and motions towards the soft looking couch, covered in a mustard yellow fabric which matches the other soft furnishings in muted yellows and tans and creams. They make their way over and sit at either end of the three-seater, both of them tucking one leg underneath themselves and leaning back into the arm rests.

“Yeah. Sort of thought you would’ve had it personalised like your dressing room at the venue.”

Harry chuckles and takes another sip of his beer. “How do you know I didn’t? Maybe this is my style.”

Louis looks around, making a show of assessing the decor. There is an abundance of mirrored surfaces, and gold and black details everywhere he looks. It’s opulent, more than a little garish, and doesn’t seem at all like the man he’s getting to know.

“Nah. It’s not you. You’ve got better taste than this.”

Harry smiles, big and broad and Louis feels his stomach do a little flip-flop. “This is a five star hotel, Louis. You really think it isn’t tasteful?”

“Nope,” Louis says, popping the p. “It’s too much. Too over the top.”

“I agree, wholeheartedly.” Harry gives him a curt nod, regarding Louis for a few beats. “So, tell me about yourself. Niall didn’t say much, just that he knew you from uni and you’d be perfect for the job.”

Louis takes another gulp of his beer. “Well, what he said to me was, and I quote. I trust you. And you’re here. So you meet all the necessary criteria for the job. Not entirely sure that’s a ringing endorsement. I was just in the right place, at the right time.”

Harry laughs at that, looking at Louis with mirth in his eyes. “I think that’s actually a massive compliment from Niall. He’s a great judge of character, and if he trusts you, you must be something special. You used to be in a band together, right?”

“We did. Jangles.”

“What now?”

Louis grins and launches into the same story he’d told Liam at the bar a couple of nights ago about how the band name came about. Harry nearly chokes on his laughter.

From there, the conversation flows easily, comfortably. As they move onto their second and third beers, Harry tells Louis about his life on tour, his fame, his music, his family.

Louis shares the joy he finds in music, his love of travelling, as well as his younger years, growing up in a large family surrounded by love and chaos.

They switch from beer to cups of tea as Harry talks passionately about writing and performing and his fans, about his early days playing the pub circuit and smaller venues, and about his meteoric rise to mega stardom. 

It’s fascinating and Louis is so engrossed that he doesn't realise how late it is until the early morning sun starts filtering into the room.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’ve kept you up all night. I should go.” Louis sets his mug on the coffee table, standing up and pushing his fists into his lower back, a loud cracking sound ringing out in the quiet room.

“Please don’t apologise. I’ve really enjoyed it. Plus, it was my idea anyway,” Harry says as he stands. “So I should probably be apologising to you.”

“You’re fine. Haven’t had an all-nighter in a while.”

“I love watching the sunrise,” Harry muses, a hint of whimsy in his tone. “But I am usually getting up, not going to bed.”

Louis chuckles, padding over to the kitchenette and setting his mug in the sink. “I’m not much of a morning person, to be honest,” he admits, turning to find Harry close behind.

Harry reaches around him, adding his own mug beside Louis’, his heady scent invading Louis’ lungs; sweet and manly and intoxicating.

Louis sucks in a sharp breath at their proximity and then takes a steadying step backwards, a hint of a smirk tugging at Harry’s mouth. “You all set for Brisbane?”

“Yeah. First time visiting, actually.”

Harry leans against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “You’re gonna love it. Gorgeous city.”

“So I’ve heard. Are you flying with us this afternoon?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Just easier on these short legs. No need for private planes and all that stuff.”

Louis grins, huffing out a breath. “Private planes. It really is a whole other world.”

Harry casts his eyes down, a small crinkle forming between his brows. “Does it- Does it bother you?”

Louis leans his hips into the counter, hand resting on top of the granite worktop. “What do you mean?”

“Like. Is all of this too much? For you, I mean.”

“It’s definitely different. But it’s a great work environment. Exciting, you know?”

Harry nods slowly, snagging the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth. “Right. For work. Of course.”

Louis isn’t sure what’s changed and why the tension in the room has ratcheted up, but something’s clearly bothering Harry. He may not know Harry that well, but after spending six-hours straight with him it’s obvious from his body language that something has shifted. 

“I didn’t-”

“No. No it’s fine,” Harry says, cutting him off and pushing off the counter. “Anyway. We’d better get some sleep before it’s time to leave.”

Louis can tell he’s being dismissed and even though he wants to resolve whatever is going on, he senses now isn’t the time. “Yeah, okay.”

He grabs his backpack and shoves his feet into his shoes, making his way to the door with Harry following along behind him. “It was great to chat to you, Louis. I think you’re going to fit right into our tour family.”

Harry’s tone has lost the soft cadence it had settled into during the night, more stilted and standoffish, and Louis feels his heart sink a little.

Harry opens the door for him, leaning back against it to keep it open. “Thanks, Harry,” Louis says as he slides past and steps out into the corridor. He turns back around, hand gripping the strap of his backpack that's now slung over his shoulder. “Hope you get some rest and I’ll see you on the plane.”

“You too. See you later.”

Louis pauses for a beat, but there’s nothing left to say, so he gives Harry a small smile and then heads off, the sound of Harry’s door clicking shut ringing out in the quiet hallway.

~*~

The backstage area of the Brisbane venue is much the same as Sydney, although Niall was definitely right about the labyrinth feel. Louis had gotten in early to deal with some maintenance tasks after he unloaded all the crates. The support act is on stage and he’s loaded the A stage trolley and is now finishing up with the B stage trolley so he’ll be ready to go as soon as he’s given the green light to move them into position.

He hadn’t seen Harry at the hotel yesterday when they were all heading to the airport, nor at the airport itself, Harry presumably being taken through a VIP section. He’d spotted him up front on the plane, but hadn’t managed to make eye contact and then Harry had been whisked off the flight before the rest of the passengers and driven away in a car that’d been waiting on the tarmac.

Louis had travelled along with some the rest of the crew in a big convoy of hired SUVs and dropped at the hotel. It was fine. Everything was fine. Only it wasn’t.

Perhaps this is just the way Harry operates, befriending his crew up to a point until he’s comfortable with them, but Louis can’t help but wonder if he said something wrong the other night. Things had seemed to be going so well and he really thought they were getting along. 

He shakes his head, trying to put it out of his mind for now so he can concentrate on the task at hand. 

“All set?”

Louis turns to find Niall in the doorway, locking and pocketing his phone.

“Yeah. Just finishing up on the B stage gear. A stage is good to go.”

“Awesome. You really are taking to this like a duck to water,” Niall comments as he leans against the door jam.

“I uhm- I don’t think I actually thanked you properly for this opportunity.”

“You’re doing me a favour, mate. No thanks necessary.”

“Regardless. I really appreciate it.”

Niall tilts his head, raising one eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you think this is something you’d be interested in doing on a more full-time basis?”

Louis considers the idea for a moment. It is, is the thing. He wasn’t bullshitting Harry when he said he liked the tour environment and everyone has been so welcoming. He enjoys the work too and perhaps this is the exact opportunity he’s been looking for. A change. A challenge. The chance to see the world.

“Yeah, I think it is.”

Niall lights up, a beaming smile spreading across his face as he steps further into the room. “That’s good to know. Really good. Turns out Gus won’t be returning to the tour and he’s decided to focus on his family for the foreseeable future. So, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Yup. I can get a formal offer drawn up for you, if you’re interested.”

Louis nods eagerly. “That’d be awesome.”

“After this tour has finished, we’ve got some festivals and other events in the schedule, so this wouldn’t be a gig based deal. It’d be a full-time role, with all the benefits that implies.”

It’s like manna from heaven and precisely what Louis wants. “Fuck. This is wild. I should send Nate a fruit basket.”

Niall looks at him curiously. “Nate?”

Louis chuckles. “My snoring roommate at the backpackers. He was the reason I came downstairs to the bar.”

“Nate. Fate. Whichever way you wanna look at it, I think it was meant to be.”

“I think you might be right.”

“Okay. I’ve gotta get on and check-in with the others. It’s great to have you aboard,” Niall says and extends his hand for Louis to shake. Louis slides his hand into Niall’s and is pulled in for a one-armed hug, Niall patting him on the shoulder as he pulls away. “Alright. I’ll see you out there. Good show.”

“Good show,” Louis repeats as Niall turns and heads back out into the corridor.

Louis is buzzing with excitement as he gets back to work, barely able to believe his good fortune. A full-time job, just like that. “What the fuck?”

The support act finishes and the backstage area shifts into a whole other gear, people racing around to get things in order. Louis wheels his A stage trolley out, Clive, one of the roadies, helping with the B stage trolley. 

The fans are going mental while they wait for the main show, singing along to the music being piped into the arena in anticipation of Harry’s grand entrance. Louis goes about setting up all the guitars on their stands in the proper order, checking and rechecking everything. 

It’s not until he’s on the B stage that he hears it. Someone is calling his name. Or screaming, might be a better description. He assumes it’s one of the crew and he looks off towards the sound desk, but Maddie and Al are just working away on the raised platform, not paying Louis any mind.

Louis furrows his brows and scans the crowd. The house lights are up and make it easy to zero in on a group of five young women, one of which is holding up a sign as they all lean over the railing on the first tier of seating.

He reads it. And then reads it again, not entirely sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. Because there, emblazoned in black marker surrounded by a bright rainbow and copious amounts of glitter, is something he could never have imagined in a million years.

We’re here for Lovely Louis.

Louis freezes, one of Harry’s guitars in his hand, mouth gaping open. Lovely Louis. It’s how Harry had referred to him at the Sydney show when Louis had come on stage to help with his broken guitar strap. But how would they- Oh shit. There must’ve been video of the interaction and it’s clearly made its way onto social media.

When the fans realise he’s spotted them, they absolutely lose their shit. Their phones are thrust out in front of them presumably recording his reaction as they jump up and down and scream his name, over and over again.

Louis is so fucking confused. He points to his chest with his free hand and the women nod enthusiastically, screaming louder and flapping the sign, a cascading waterfall of glitter fluttering to the ground.

“Looks like you’ve got some fans of your own there, Louis,” Abe says as he passes behind Louis on his way to check Harry’s mic.

“What the hell, man? Why would they-”

“It’s the Harry effect, mate,” Abe states simply as though that explains everything. Which, for the record, it absolutely does not.

The women seem intent on keeping his attention though, shouting things at him in quick succession over the top of each other. It’s one of the most bizarre moments of Louis’ life.

“Why does Harry call you Lovely Louis?”

“We love you!”

“You’re so hot!”

“Are you Harry’s boyfriend?”

The last question has Louis’ eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he sucks in a sharp breath. Niall had warned him about engaging with fans, flagging it as a massive no-no for the crew, and he’s not about to risk losing this gig which he’s thoroughly enjoying. So, he just grimaces, gives them a wave, and refocuses on the task at hand. He finishes up his work and then books it out of there as fast as he can, back to the safety of backstage to wait for the show to begin.

The first part of the show goes off without a hitch and Louis is able to stay in his spot off to the side of the A stage. When Harry moves down to B stage, Louis stands near the sound desk, just as he had done in Sydney. He glances up every now and then to where the girls with the sign are standing, watching as they wave it around excitedly.

Harry has likely noticed it, it’s right in front of him after all. Louis just hopes he’s not going to be too put out by it. As it turns out, he doesn’t have much longer to wait to find out.

“Now. I see some interesting signs out there tonight. One sign in particular,” Harry says with a grin in his voice when he takes his usual break between songs to interact with the audience. He rests the hand not holding the mic on top of the stand, cocking his hip, all casual and exuding confidence.

“Right. We need to talk about this one. I’m not sure this is good for my narcissistic tendencies, but… The sign says We’re here for Lovely Louis.”

The crowd goes wild, screaming and hollering and Louis’ heart plummets down to his toes. He braves a glance up to the big screen above and sure enough, the cameraman has zoomed in and the girls and the sign are right there, bold as brass, on display for the entire arena.

Louis feels a blush rampage up his neck. “Shit. Fuck. Shit.”

“So. Firstly, I don’t think you actually bought tickets to this show with the express purpose of seeing Lovely Louis, given that he only joined the crew a couple of days ago. But. I can appreciate your thinking, because secondly, I agree he is very lovely.”

And if Louis thought the crowd was loud before, he wasn’t prepared for the decibels to blast off the charts. It’s absolutely deafening, akin to a freight train driving right through the arena.

Harry starts to turn towards Louis. And no. No, no, no.

But also yes, yes, yes fuck. Harry’s gaze finds him and Louis feels a spark of electricity shoot up his spine. The camera follows, because of course it does, and if Louis thought the crowd was so hyped they couldn’t possibly be any more hysterical, he was very, very mistaken.

They go absolutely ballistic.

Louis shifts nervously from one foot to the other as a spotlight lands on him, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights, skin prickling and beads of sweat sliding down his back.

“Ahhhh, there he is. Give your fans a wave, Lovely Louis,” Harry goades, more than a little cheek in his tone. He does an exaggerated flick of his hair and then gives Louis a wink. 

Harry’s definitely flirting, although Louis suspects it’s probably just all for show. 

Regardless of Harry’s intent, Louis’ panic is instantly overtaken with fondness for this quirky manchild. He chuckles to himself, grinning from ear to ear as he raises his arm in the air and gives the crowd a wave, spinning around on his heel. He’s never been afraid of a bit of attention, and while this is on a whole other level, it’s also kind of cool. Plus, he’s pretty relieved Harry seems to be okay with it.

“Right! That’s enough attention for Louis. This is supposed to be all about me!”

Laughter fills the arena. Harry winks at him again before returning to focus on the crowd and launches into the intro for his next song.

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch, flowing seamlessly from the B stage back to the A stage for the final few songs and the encore.

The off-board is smooth, and soon enough the trucks are loaded and Louis is heading back to the hotel with a few other crew members piled into a van. They all give him a decent ribbing about the interlude during the show, but they don’t mean any harm and he bats the comments away with good-natured retorts.

He’s just coming out of the bathroom in his hotel room when there’s a firm knock on his door. He glances at the clock on the bedside table and wonders who in the hell is coming around at 2am. He just hopes everything is okay.

Louis grabs a t-shirt out of his open suitcase and slips it over his head as he pads over to the door. When it swings open he’s confused to find Max, Harry’s security, standing on the other side. 

Louis frowns, tilting his head to the side. “Hey, Max. Y’alright?”

“Sorry for the late hour. Harry was wondering if you might have a moment?”

And Louis certainly wasn’t expecting that. “Oh, okay. Uhm- just let me put on some sweatpants.”

Max glances down at Louis’ bare legs, just a pair of boxer briefs and t-shirt covering his body. “Good idea,” he says with a smirk and starts to walk away, saying over his shoulder, “He’s in his suite at the end of the hall when you’re ready.”

Louis lets the door slip closed and goes back to his suitcase, stepping into a pair of sweats and grabbing his room key and phone on the way out.

He knocks on Harry’s door and steps back, hands sliding into his pockets as he rocks up onto the balls of his bare feet. 

The door swings open, a cosy looking Harry revealed before him. He’s got grey sweatpants and an old Rolling Stones band t-shirt on that’s clearly seen better days, more holes than material down one side.

Harry’s gaze trails down and snaps back up to meet Louis’ eyes. Louis can’t help the slightly smug grin that blooms on his face.

“You know, you shouldn’t walk around barefoot in hotels. It’s unsanitary. Protip number nine for life on the road.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Did you really ask me here to berate me about my footwear choices?”

“No. But my point stands. Come on in.”

Harry grins, starting to walk away and Louis has to slap his hand on the door to stop it from closing, following Harry into the suite.

“So, what did you want to see me about?”

“Drink?” Harry asks in lieu of answering Louis’ question, already leaning down into the mini bar to retrieve two bottles of beer.

“Sure. Love a beer after I’ve just brushed my teeth. Extra fizz.”

Harry snorts out a laugh as he spins around, handing one of the bottles to Louis. “Sorry about that. It’s not too late for you, is it?”

There’s a hint of concern under his bravado, but it vanishes when Louis shakes his head and takes a long sip of the beer. “Nah. I’m good. I kinda like the rock star hours anyway.”

“Fancy yourself a rock star then?”

“Fuck no.” Louis shakes his head, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He swipes it away in a practised move, cocking his hip. “I’ll leave that to the likes of you, I reckon.”

“The likes of you,” Harry parrots back, doing a woeful impersonation of Louis’ stronger Northern accent. “But you were in a band, yeah? Must’ve been something you wanted, back then anyway?”

Harry motions towards the wall of windows. There’s an open sliding door on the right, sheer white curtains billowing in a gentle breeze beside.

Louis follows Harry out onto the balcony, the city skyline laid out before them. “I guess I did. That was a long time ago though.”

The balcony is impressively big, large enough for a comfortable looking outdoor three-seater lounge and two of those egg-shaped pod chairs that always seem ridiculously hard to get in and out of. He opts to take a seat on the lounge shuffling back into the armrest, Harry sitting at the other end, one leg tucked underneath his bum.

“So. How are you finding everything on tour? Settling in okay?”

Right. Harry just wants to check in on his newest tour family member. That’s nice, Louis thinks to himself. “Yeah. Love it. Everyone has been super friendly and helpful. It’s a lot to learn, but it’s going well.”

“That’s good. I’m really happy you’re finding your feet.” Harry takes another sip of his beer and Louis does the same, a bit unsure if he’s supposed to carry the conversation or allow Harry to guide it how he wants. 

“The show was excellent tonight,” Louis offers, unable to allow the silence to drag out.

Harry grins. “It was… Interesting little bit on the B stage with the fans.”

Oh shit. Is Harry annoyed about that? Louis thought it had been okay, but perhaps Harry really was just acting it up for the audience. 

“Yeah. Listen,” Louis says, setting up straighter. “I’m really sorry about that. I saw them before the show when I was setting up, but I didn’t realise it would be a thing. I don’t know why they would’ve done that. I’m a nobody and I’m truly sorry if it was an issue for you.”

Harry holds a somewhat steely expression for a few beats and Louis is about to jump in and apologise some more when Harry bursts out laughing, eyes crinkling shut, hand over his diaphragm. “It’s fine,” Harry drawls out once he’s somewhat regained his composure. “I thought it was wonderful. Plus, it was my fault for giving you the nickname the other night anyway.”

Louis huffs out a disgruntled breath. “You’re a bit of a cheeky shit, you know that?”

“I do, in fact, know that,” Harry admits, raising up the foot that’s planted on the floor and poking Louis in the shin with his big toe. “Part of my charm, or so I’ve been told.”

“Clearly you have too many people blowing smoke up your arse.”

“And I pay handsomely for it.”

“Really? You got an official arse-smoke-blower then?”

Harry quirks a brow. “Not at the moment. Angling for a promotion?”

Louis snorts out a laugh, any tension that was still hovering is effectively banished and dissipates in the warm night air. “Fuck no.”

From there, the conversation flows freely just like it had during their late night interlude in Sydney, that hint of standoffishness he’d felt from Harry at the end of that night evaporating into the air. They weave in and out of safe topics like sport and travel before gradually wading into more serious subjects on their second and third beers.

Harry talks about his love of songwriting and the process of crafting an album, going away to a studio and turning his thoughts and feelings into poems that become the lyrics. He shares the difficulty in choosing the tracks for the albums so that they tell the story he wants to convey. About all the songs that will never see the light of day. About how nervous he feels to reveal his innermost insecurities and desires and laying them bare for the world to pick apart and judge. How vulnerable he feels and how much he finds reassurance in the support of his fans. He tells Louis about the sheer, unadulterated joy and sense of freedom he feels when he’s on stage and how important it is to him to give it his all every single night.

Little by little, they manage to migrate closer to each other on the couch every time one of them gets up to grab another drink or use the bathroom. Harry’s arm drapes over the back of the couch, a mere hair's breadth away from Louis shoulder. Their knees bump into each other as they talk animatedly, the city lights reflecting in their eyes as they search each other’s faces. Learning, understanding, knowing.

Louis tells Harry about feeling adrift in his life and career, unsure of where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do. About the fear that he’s missed his chance to find a path to something satisfying and purposeful. He reveals that he writes music too, nothing on the scale of Harry’s prowess, but that it’s something that he enjoys, even if only for himself. Harry demands to hear some of Louis’ songs and Louis inexplicably finds himself agreeing to share them sometime, although he stops short of allowing Harry to badger him into doing it on the spot.

It’s all so easy and just really fucking nice. It’s been a long time since Louis has felt a pull to someone like this and he has to keep reminding himself that this is Harry Styles, mega, global, massive superstar, Harry Styles.

It’s just. Harry doesn’t come off like that. Not at all. He’s not big-headed or arrogant. He’s not guarded or aloof. He’s a complex mix of curiosities and quirks. He’s open and generous, funny and intelligent, thoughtful and he listens intently to every word Louis has to say. He listens like Louis is important, awarding him his undivided attention, like he’s the only person in the universe.  

And then there’s the flirting and teasing.

Harry flirts. Louis flirts back. Louis teases. Harry teases right back.

It’s a whole thing and it’s doing Louis’ fucking head in.

He desperately wants to do something, anything, to act on what he’s feeling between them, but that little niggle in the deep recesses of his mind is holding him back. Why had Harry felt the need to pull away from him at the end of their night in Sydney? What were his concerns? What had Louis missed? 

Maybe he’d read the situation wrong, but he knows he’s not going to be able to let it go until he gets it out in the open.

“The other night- uhm- in Sydney when we were in your room. At the end.”

Harry’s posture stiffens. “What about it?”

Shit. Louis wants to rewind the last ten seconds and have a do-over, but he’s started now, so he barrels on. “It’s just- I was worried I’d done something wrong. Your whole demeanour changed and I wasn’t sure what happened. One minute everything was nice and easy and then you kind of just, I dunno, sort of withdrew.”

Harry nods slowly, eyes cast down to watch as he turns his beer bottle around in his hands. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I was- It’s hard, like, making connections with people when you’re- Well, when you’re me, I guess. In my position. With the fame and everything.”

“Connections?”

Harry looks up and Louis can see the push and pull going inside his head just from his expression. “It’s like, I pride myself on being a good judge of character. I can get a read on people fairly quickly, but it’s sometimes difficult to know if it’s all a put on. People want to make a good impression, particularly if they want something from me, whether it be time or access or money or endorsement.”

“Or employment,” Louis offers and Harry smiles shyly. Louis’ heart clenches in his chest.

“Yeah. That too. I dunno. I thought we had this great connection that was more than just about the job but then you brought it back to just that and I guess I was disappointed. I had to reset my expectations.”

“Shit. I’m really sorry I gave you that impression. I mean, it was technically true, and still is. I want to do a good job, and I really like the job, but- But that’s not all I was feeling either.”

Harry looks at him with something like hope in his eyes. “It wasn’t?”

“Nope. I knew I’d fucked up as soon as I said it, but I didn’t know how to take it back and then you were ushering me out of the door, so I figured I’d blown it.”

“You didn’t. Not really. I uhm- I’ve had a hard time putting you out of my mind,” Harry says, voice soft like his admission is something precious, a closely guarded secret.

“Is that why you asked me to come over tonight?”

Harry nods, a flush painting his cheeks. “I needed to be sure that there was nothing else here. Between us.”

Louis reaches out his hand, fingers brushing over Harry’s bare shin. “And what’s the verdict?”

“That my first impressions were correct. There is something more here.”

“I think so too,” Louis murmurs, the air around them heavy, thick with the potential of what’s to come. 

Their gazes lock, Louis’ skin tingling, thrumming, alight with a million pin pricks of anticipation.

“Hey,” Harry says, tapping Louis’ hand, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Wanna go for a swim?”

The change in tack takes Louis by surprise. “What?”

“A swim. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Harry looks so excited, a glint of mischief in his eyes and the thought of swimming around half naked in a pool in the middle of the night with Harry doesn’t exactly sound like a hardship.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright,” Louis agrees easily, already so fucking gone for this enigma of a man.

The words are barely out of Louis’ mouth before Harry is up out of his seat and beelining for the door to the suite. “I’ll just call Max so we can get access. It’s on the rooftop,” Harry shouts from inside as Louis hauls himself up from the comfort of the cushions.

“You sure you want to bother him? Won’t he be asleep?”

“Nope. He only sleeps a few hours a night. Probably still reading his Harlequin romance novels.”

“His what?”

Louis wanders into the kitchenette, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle on the counter.

“Max is obsessed with these trashy romance novels,” Harry says as he swipes his phone, putting it to his ear. “You know, the ones with, like, Fabio on the cover. I don’t get it, but he loves them.”

“Takes all sorts, I guess,” Louis offers with a shrug.

“Hey… Yeah, everything’s fine. Thought I’d go for a swim. Can you… Thanks, mate. Meet you there in a few minutes.”

Harry ends the call, pocketing his phone and wandering through an open doorway into what Louis assumes is the separate bedroom.

“I’ll just go and grab my swimmers,” Louis says, voice raised for Harry to hear. “Meet me in the hallway.”

He hears Harry chuckle from the bedroom. “I see what you did there. Nice reference.”

“It’s one of my favourite songs of yours actually.”

Harry saunters back out of the bedroom, a pair of yellow swim shorts in his hand. “Oh yeah?”

Louis decides to go all-in, because why not. “Yup. That, and Medicine.”

Harry snorts out a laugh and gives him a look that lets Louis know that he gets exactly what he’s implying. “Unsurprisingly, I’m not surprised. You need to work on your subtlety.”

Louis shrugs his shoulders. “Why? Subtlety is a fool's errand.”

“I like that,” Harry says and takes a step towards Louis, less than an arm's length away. “Honesty has always been my default position too.”

There’s a palpable tension hanging between them, making the room seem smaller all of a sudden. The walls feel like they’re edging closer, but not uncomfortably so. “Honestly is an incredibly attractive trait.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me more about the attractive traits. I’m intrigued.”

Harry’s deep, gravelly voice seeps into his ears, thick like slow-moving lava. Louis holds out his hand to keep the distance between them, just to see how Harry will respond.

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” Louis chides. “I’m not gonna give it to you that easily.”

Harry presses his weight into Louis’ hand and Louis smiles his most innocent smile, earning a smirk in response. “I think you might.”

Louis lifts his chin in defiance. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you.”

Harry’s gaze is earnest and sincere, but there’s a definite hunger there, confidence too, but not in an aggressive way. “You need to get your swimmers. Not that I’d be opposed to a spot of skinny dipping. Balls in your court.”

Louis steps back, pursing his lips, forcibly holding his smirk at bay. “How about you just keep your balls in your swimmers.”

“Party pooper.” Harry pouts and for a rock star, he’s really far too adorable. 

Louis scoffs at him, backing away and spinning around, heading for the door. “See you in a bit,” he says with a cursory wave over his shoulder.

Back in his room, he digs his swimmers out from the bottom of his suitcase. They’re dark blue and hang down to mid-thigh, little bright blue anchors dotted all over them. They’ve had plenty of use on his trip, Louis having taken advantage of the Australian Summer and the stunning white sandy beaches at every opportunity. There’s a small tear in the seam that runs under his balls, which is unfortunate, but not all that noticeable. He shrugs to himself and strips out of his sweatpants and boxers, slipping them on and putting his sweatpants back on over the top before grabbing a towel and heading back out into the corridor. 

Harry is waiting at the end of the hallway near the lifts, leaned back against the wall, arms wrapped around the towel clutched tightly against his chest. His head is tilted up to the ceiling, elongating the long line of his throat, legs crossed at the ankles, feet bare.

“What about protip number nine?” Louis challenges as he comes to a stop in front of Harry.

“Huh?”

Louis points at Harry’s feet. “No shoes.”

Harry chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and hitting the button for the lift. “Ahhh yes, protip nine. There’s a notable exception carved out for middle-of-the-night adventures to rooftop pools.”

“Convenient.”

“Hmmm…” Harry hums as the lift dings, doors opening to reveal a very-much-not-tired-looking Max already inside, a book clutched in one of his hands.

“Evening, lads.”

“Hi, Max,” Louis greets as Harry gives Max a fist bump, each of them turning to face the doors and taking up spots on either side of Max.

“You’ve got a couple of hours. Cleaners will be in at seven, so you’ll need to be out of the pool by then,” Max advises curtly, even though there’s the hint of a smirk underlying his tone.

“I’m sure we’ll be done by then. Enough time to watch the sunrise.”

Louis feels his lips curl up into an involuntary grin. So, Harry wants to watch the sunrise with him. That sounds delightfully romantic. Louis could do with some romance in his life, it’s been too long.

The lift slows to a stop and Max leads them out into a lobby with a glass door in front of them, the rooftop pool visible beyond. He punches in a code and the door clicks open, standing aside and allowing Harry and Louis to walk through first.

Louis can feel Max at his heels and he leans against Harry’s side, whispering into his ear, “Is he coming for a swim too?”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “Nah. Just us.”

Louis isn’t convinced until he glances over his shoulder to find Max grabbing a patio chair and carrying back into the lobby, closing the door behind him and sitting down facing the lifts.

“He’s just gonna stay in there and read?”

“Yup,” Harry replies as they walk around the pool. 

It’s quite the set-up. The pool is massive, one half under a shade sail, the other exposed to the elements. Sandstone pavers cover the entire surround, blue-green tiles illuminated by the embedded lighting making the water shimmer in the dark evening. 

The city is sleeping around them, lights from the skyscrapers like mosaics against the night. There’s a waterfall off to one side of the pool, one of those ones you can swim behind, just near a built-in spa which is bubbling away providing the only disruption to the quiet.

Harry sets his towel down on a lounger and Louis follows suit, stripping off his t-shirt and dropping it on top.

Louis heads over to the edge of the pool, dipping his toe in the water. It’s not cold, but it’s not super warm either, which is perfect. He’s about to turn around to see if Harry’s ready to get in when a human blur whizzes past him, cannonballing into the pool and causing a wave of water to cascade over Louis.

Louis stands there, eyes closed, water dripping off him as he hears Harry shriek in delight.

He opens his eyes, glaring down at a smug Harry who is standing chest deep in the water, hair slicked back on his head, and a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

Louis drags his hands down his face, revealing a scowl. “You absolute fucker. You’re gonna pay for that .”

“Big words, tough guy,” Harry challenges, poking out his tongue.

“Who even are you?”

“Like no one you’ve ever met before,” Harry says cryptically, pushing off the floor of the pool and floating away on his back towards the waterfall.

The action has the definite advantage of allowing Louis to freely ogle Harry’s body; chest bare, tattoos glistening, and his yellow swim shorts doing nothing to hide his bulging cock. It’s quite the view.

The water is sufficiently deep, so Louis decides that a graceful entrance is the best option. He clasps his hands above his head, springs off the edge and dives in, the cool water enveloping him as he opens his eyes and glides along the bottom of the pool.

He can see Harry floating above, legs bent at the knee, his feet dangling down lower, arms outstretched at his sides. Louis pushes through the water, surfacing beside Harry’s hip and pinching him under the arm. Harry flinches away and rights himself, feet planting on the bottom of the pool.

Harry gazes down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

They’re close, but apparently not close enough for Harry’s liking. He glides forwards, right into Louis’ space. Louis stands his ground, narrowing his eyes in challenge.

“It’s nice in the water, isn’t it?”

“It is. Great idea.”

Harry grins at him, water droplets dripping off his nose and chin. “I have the best ideas.”

“Do you?”

“Mhmmm…” Harry hums in confirmation. “The best.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I have another idea. Can you guess what it is?”

There’s a hunger in Harry’s eyes and Louis is pretty certain he knows what Harry’s alluding to, but he needs to be sure they’re on the same page. Not just with this, right here and now, but more generally.

“I can. But- Can we just talk for a minute?”

“We’ve been talking for hours, Lou.”

Louis tilts his head at the nickname. “Lou?”

Harry nods. “It fits, I think.”

Louis smiles, reaching out and taking Harry’s hand. “C’mon, H.”

“H?”

“It fits, I think,” Louis says, parroting Harry’s words back at him.

“I like that. No one calls me H.”

“And ain’t that crying shame. Guess it’s mine now. I’ve staked my claim on it.”

“Okay,” Harry says with a giggle. 

Butterflies flutter in Louis’ chest, but he tamps them down, choosing instead to wade through the water towards the waterfall, pulling Harry along behind him.

The water is splashing against the rock formation, fake, but effective nonetheless, and there’s enough room behind the cascading water to stand without being under the stream. He leads Harry into the space, turning himself around and backing up against the waist-high wall of rock that juts out to form a shelf big enough to sit on.

Harry rests his free hand beside Louis’ hip, caging him in and Louis looks up, finding Harry looking down at him curiously.

He’s not entirely sure what he wants to say, but he’s gonna give it a red hot go anyway. “So. I just wanna have a proper conversation about this, whatever this is, before it goes any further.”

“Ohhhh, adulting. That’s hot,” Harry says and licks his lips lavisciously.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’m all about honest and open communication. Did you want to go first?”

Louis chuckles. “Not particularly, but I will.” He takes a deep breath, willing his nerves to calm the fuck down. “I like you. I like you a lot. And I like my job, new as it might be, and I think I could be really good at it. But I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Because if those two things don’t go together as bedfellows, for want of a better word, I’d like to know now.”

“Yeah, I get that and I understand your concern. Just to be clear, I like you too, and I want to make sure we’re on the same page as well.”

The waterfall is cocooning them in their own little world, like they’re the only two people in the entire universe. Louis waits for Harry to say more, but it appears that Harry is waiting on him, gazing down at him expectantly.

Louis steals himself for his next admission. It’s not something he shares with many people, mainly because he’s rarely felt this kind of pull to someone before. There’s just something about Harry that makes him want to lay it all out on the table. To give it a chance and see where it can go. 

“I uhm- I don’t really do this kind of thing.”

Harry’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, that’s okay, I guess. I don’t want to put pressure on you or-”

“No. No, that’s not what I meant. Shit,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head. “I’m truly awful at this.”

Harry slides his hand up Louis’ arm, cupping his jaw. “Just take your time.”

“What I’m trying to say, and failing miserably at, I might add, is that I don’t really do hook-ups, or friends with benefits, or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays. I’m a relationship guy and everything that implies.”

Harry bites the corner of his lip. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah. I’m all about commitment. I’ve only had a few relationships. I mean, I dabbled in the dating pool and mucked about at uni and whatever, but yeah, I’m just not built for it. And I understand if that’s not your thing, but I just wanted to-”

“Me too,” Harry says, cutting Louis off mid-sentence, a grin blooming on his gorgeous face.

Louis sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah?”

“Mhmmm… I know a lot of things get said in the media about me, about who I’m sleeping with and whatever, but it’s pretty much all bullshit.”

Those butterflies in Louis’ chest take flight once again. “So we’re on the same page?”

“We are. I’m interested in you as more than a fling and I’d very much like to see where it can go, where we can go.”

Louis sighs in relief. “I really like the sound of that. So, what happens now?”

Harry chuckles, leaning in and resting his forehead against Louis’. “I was kinda hoping I could kiss you.”

Louis smiles and closes his eyes, nosing at Harry’s cheek. “Yeah. Go on then.”

“So gracious,” Harry whispers, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding water.

Louis is about to wheel out a snappy retort when Harry cuts off his train of thought, sealing their mouths together. He was expecting it, of course, but that doesn’t stop Louis from sucking in a sharp breath at the feel of Harry’s lips pressing against his own.

It’s soft at first, tentative almost. Chaste and gentle and Louis sighs into it.

Harry spins them around, backing himself up against the rock shelf, his hands sliding around to the swell of Louis’ arse, pulling him in. Louis’ feet skitter across the slippery tiles as their bodies align from chest to knee, the heat of Harry’s skin bleeding onto Louis’.

Louis grips onto Harry’s hips, fingertips digging into the fleshy part above the waistband of his swimmers. He tilts his head to the side, Harry mirroring his movements and opening up, tongue running along the seam of Louis’ lips.

Louis trails his hands up Harry’s broad chest and over his puffy nipples, earning a stuttered breath in response before he threads his fingers behind Harry’s head. “Fuck, Lou.”

Harry tucks his fingers down the back of Louis’ swimmers, exploring, making Louis’ skin feel like it’s on fire, goose pimples prickling all over his body. 

Harry kisses with his whole being, insistent and heated, and Louis’ brain is a mess of want and urgent need, his cock hardening up rapidly even in the cool water.

Louis spreads his legs a little and Harry slides his thigh between them, lifting it up as he pulls Louis down, creating a tantalising pressure that Louis desperately wants more of. He gasps into Harry’s mouth. “Oh god, yeah.”

Harry kisses along Louis’ jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin under his ear. “Been dying to do this since you first walked onto the stage and dropped to your knees. Thought I was going to get a hard-on in front of ten thousand people.”

“I’m sure that wouldn't have been the first time,” Louis murmurs cheekily and Harry responds by pressing his thigh into Louis’ cock with even more intent.

Louis groans and scratches his fingernails down Harry’s back, rocking back and forth on Harry’s thigh. He can feel Harry’s cock pushing against his stomach and he wants to get his hand around it, or his mouth, but that’s not particularly practical in the pool, so he slides his hand between their bodies.

“Yeah, baby. That’s it,” Harry encourages, sucking in a breath, his stomach concaving to give Louis more room. The waistband of Harry’s swimmers provides little resistance and Louis wraps his fist around Harry’s cock. It’s smooth and hot, rock hard, and it twitches with every stroke of Louis’ hand. His fingers don’t meet and that’s a lot to take in, but he tries to refocus and not think about how it would feel to have it inside of him, for now anyway. 

“Do you think Max knows what we’re doing out here?”

Harry chuckles, sliding his free hand into the front of Louis’ swimmers. “I think he’s got a fairly good idea. He’s a man of few words, but he’s deceptively perceptive.”

“Probably a good trait for a body-”

Louis’ words die on his tongue as Harry takes him in his hand, long fingers stretching all the way around, grasp firm and sure and maddeningly good.

Harry seeks out Louis’ mouth once more and Louis kisses him back greedily as they build a matching rhythm, water splashing between their bodies as they jerk each other off in tandem. 

Louis’ legs are trembling and even with the extra support from the water, he’s having trouble holding himself upright. Harry must sense it, gripping onto Louis’ arse cheek to steady him.

“Fuck, I’m getting close,” Harry pants into Louis’ mouth.

“Me too, shit. Are we really just gonna come in the pool? That’s kinda gross.”

Harry pulls away, looking over his shoulder and Louis knows what he’s thinking before he even puts his thoughts into action.

Harry turns back, a grin on his kiss-bitten lips. “Nope.”

He slides his hands out of Louis’ swimmers, pushes them down to Louis’ knees and picks him up under the arms, lifting him onto the rock shelf behind them.

The rock is cold on Louis’ arse, but he doesn’t have time to protest before Harry is wrapping his lips around his cock, sinking his mouth all the way down and burying his nose into the trimmed thatch of pubic hair.

Louis thumps his head on the rock wall behind him. “Jesus Christ. Are you a fucking porn star on the side?”

Harry doesn’t respond, just hums around Louis’ cock as Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s hair, gripping on tightly, earning more glorious vibrations from Harry’s throat.

Louis knows he’s not going to last much longer, Harry’s clever mouth and tongue doing things to him that he’s never before experienced. He chances a look down and he immediately regrets it, the image surely burned into his brain forever. Once he’s looked though, he can’t drag his gaze away. Harry bobs his head like a man on a mission, sucking and licking with perfect pressure and technique and Louis can’t do more than whimper as his orgasm slams into him. 

He sits slack jawed, his entire body buffeted with wave after wave of pleasure, a low buzz taking up residence in his ears and blocking out all other sounds. Harry works him through the aftershocks, licking him clean, placing a final kiss to the tip of Louis’ softening cock.

“Y’alright, Lou?”

Louis opens his eyes, still feeling a bit dazed and sex-drunk, but recovering quickly. “Mmmmm… I’m excellent,” he slurs, grinning wide. “Your turn.”

Harry quirks a brow and steps back as Louis shuffles forward, slipping on the rock shelf and into the water. He pulls up his swimmers and pats the shelf, indicating for Harry to jump up, which he does after he’s stripped off his own swimmers.

Now that Louis is presented with the wonder that is Harry’s massive cock at eye level, it’s a slightly more daunting proposition. But Louis has never been one to back down from a challenge and he’s not about to start now.

Harry must sense a bit of hesitation in Louis’ stare and he brings his hand up to stroke Louis’ cheek. “You don’t have to, Lou.” 

Louis snaps his gaze up to meet Harry’s. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just try and stop me.”

Harry barks out a laugh and a bloom of warmth spreads through Louis’ chest. Louis comes closer, pushing Harry’s legs apart so he can stand between them. He takes Harry’s cock in his hand, giving him a final wink before sinking down.

It’s a lot, just as he knew it would, but in the best possible way. His mouth is pulled taut at the edges, stinging a little until stretches to accommodate Harry’s girth. 

Louis slides down, hands resting on Harry’s thighs as he relaxes his jaw as much as he can,  breathing through the intrusion as Harry hits the back of his throat. He swallows around him, Harry’s moans from above urging him on. He hasn’t done this in a while, but he’d always been pretty good at giving head, and a part of him wants to impress Harry a little bit too.

He goes at it with dedication, working his tongue and lips and throat. 

“God. Your mouth, baby. And you think I’m a porn star on the side. Fucking hell.”

Harry’s hips stutter and Louis would smirk if he didn’t currently have his lips stretched around Harry’s cock. 

Louis looks up through his eyelashes as he bobs his head up and down, finding Harry gazing down at him in wonder. Harry reaches out, placing his hand on Louis cheek reverently and Louis holds his stare, not breakin away as Harry’s eyes go wide and he comes down Louis’ throat with a guttural moan.

He chokes a little, pulling off slightly as Harry’s come fills his mouth. He swallows it down as best he can, a few drops escaping down his chin. Harry’s breathing heavily above him, chest rising and falling as he just stares, pupils blown to almost black.

Louis lets Harry’s cock slip from his mouth, licking up the shaft and swirling his tongue around the head just to give Harry the full pretend porn star experience. Harry groans and slides off the shelf and back into the water, cupping Louis’ face and tilting his head back, diving in for a heated kiss. Louis melts into it easily, wrapping his arms around Harry’s back, feeling boneless and sated and so fucking happy he could cry.

They kiss lazily for what seems like hours, now that the touch barrier has been obliterated it’s like they can get enough; hungry and eager, exploring and mapping every inch of each other’s bodies.

“We’re gonna turn into prunes,” Louis says as he finally pulls away, nipping at Harry’s bottom lip.

“We are. Plus, the sun’s coming up. Wanna watch the sunrise with me?”

Louis smiles, eyes crinkling. “I’d love to.”

They make their way out of the pool and dry off with one towel so they can use the other to wrap around them. Harry lays down on his side and pats the space in front of him. Louis joins him, Harry’s arms tightly wrapped around him and his leg slung over Louis’ hip.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon, beams filtering between the buildings that surround the hotel, reflecting off the steel and glass structures. Dotted clouds in the dark blue sky are lit from beneath, pinks and oranges and purples, stuck to the canvas that is the breaking day.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, turning over in Harry’s arms, seeking out his lips for a chaste kiss.

“I think I might’ve found something more beautiful though,” Harry confesses, brushing Louis’ hair from his forehead and gazing at him lovingly.

“Me too.”

Louis tucks his face into Harry’s neck, breathing him in, feeling safe and secure and warm in Harry’s embrace.

~*~

12 months later…

“Sydney! Let me hear you!” Harry shouts, arms held high as his deep, sexy voice fills the stadium and filters up into the dark night sky.

The crowd, as instructed, goes fucking wild. Not that there was ever any doubt. Harry can get just about anyone to do anything under normal circumstances, and a captive audience who have already shelled out their hard earned cash to buy tickets to his show aren’t exactly independent bystanders.  

Louis watches on from the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the B stage which is at the end of 40 metre long catwalk. Harry was put on the Earth to strut down a runway, and now he has his very own, one that he can dance and gyrate and slink down at every show.

He might put on a world class performance, egging on the fans, and prowling around the stage, but Louis knows that he’s the only person who gets to lay in Harry’s arms every night.

It’s been a crazy twelve-months since Louis randomly ran into Niall and Liam at that bar in this very city and his life was upended, setting it on a new course that he could never have even dreamed of. 

Things had progressed swiftly between him and Harry right from that first night at the pool. There had been no question about the type of relationship they would slide into after they’d had such an open and honest conversation about it. Boyfriends from the start and going stronger than ever a year later.

They had a lot to learn about each other, of course, but tour life comes with many advantages, not least of which is plenty of downtime; in airports, on planes, in hotels, sightseeing, and backstage at the multitude of venues as they travel around the globe.

Harry is currently touring his fourth album, playing to sold-out stadiums, and Louis is still his guitar tech, much to the fans' delight. On any given night, there’s almost as many signs in the crowd for Lovely Louis as there are for Harry himself.

They’ve managed to maintain a degree of privacy with their relationship for the most part, but the media machine and paps can be relentlessly intrusive. The tour does operate like a little travelling bubble though, additional security and strict schedules providing an extra layer between them and the public.

Harry had been concerned about it at the beginning, the rabid desire for information and dirt on them becoming a heavy weight on his mind. To overcome his worries, Harry had set up even stricter rules for access and personally scrutinised any new hires for their tour family even more than he’d done before. 

Louis understood completely and supported Harry with every new step he took; every protocol, every restriction and limit Harry put in place.

In public, they’re a united front and a force to be reckoned with.

In private they’re still the same people though, when it’s just them, two peas in a pod, desperately, utterly, and head-over-heels in love. 

Harry finishes his chat with the crowd between songs and Louis knows which track is coming up next. It’s his favourite song, one that Harry had written for him a few months into their relationship. A stunningly haunting acoustic number; no production, no band, nothing to detract from his beautiful voice and the gentle strum of his guitar.

The crowd knows it’s coming too, the torches on their phones lighting the stadium like thousands of fireflies in the night. 

“So this next track is off my latest album,” Harry says into the mic, voice low and gravelly. “I can see you all know which one it is and I’m sure you’ve probably all heard me wax lyrical about this man enough to last a lifetime, but I don’t care.”

Harry chuckles, a cheeky smile curling the corners of his mouth as the crowd screams in delight, feet stomping on the floor before they start shouting Louis’ name like they do at every show.

Louis leans back against the railing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, a grin already firmly fixed on his face. It should probably be weird having 45,000 people chanting his name, but there’s a lot of things in his life now that are very much on the flip side of normal. 

“Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh. I have a secret to tell you all,” Harry murmurs when the crowd settles down and that has Louis’ attention sparked. Harry glances over to him and gives him a quick raise of his eyebrows, Louis frowning in reply. What the hell is he doing? This is definitely off-script and a shot of adrenaline fires through Louis’ body.

“Some of you may not know, but Lovely Louis and I first got together in Australia last year.”

Of course the crowd knows. The whole world knows. They hadn’t exactly hidden their relationship, and the pap pictures of them holding hands sharing a romantic dinner in New Zealand, hands held across the table as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes, had made headlines across the globe. 

“He’s the love of my life, which is probably fairly apparent as half my bloody album was written about him.”

Harry glances over to Louis again and gives him a wink. Louis just rolls his eyes fondly and blows him a kiss in return, Harry making a show of catching it and putting it in the pocket of his trousers.

Louis is in love with a sap. An adorable, quirky, hot-as-fuck, sap.

“So, here it is. This is Love On A G String.”

The crowd quietens as soon as the first strum of Harry’s guitar sounds out in the stadium, phone lights twinkling all around. 

It’s sweet and tender, soft and soulful, Harry’s love offered up on a platter. Of course, what the audience doesn’t realise, and will never, ever be told, is that the song has a double-meaning. It’s wonderfully romantic, of course, a declaration of true love, but this is Harry, so there’s a pun in there too.

The meaning behind the lyrics that the fans understand is that it’s about how Louis and Harry met when Louis stepped in to be Harry’s replacement guitar tech, so the G String is a string on a guitar. 

The slightly less PG 13 version of that, and the one that will never be revealed to the public, is currently wedged up Louis’ arse crack.

Louis smiles to himself as he remembers the romantic evening in their hotel room to celebrate their one-month anniversary. Harry had been twitchy all the way back from the venue, but each time Louis probed for a reason, Harry would just change the subject. When they’d arrived at the suite, the scene that was laid out before them was breathtaking. Rose petals cover almost every surface, candlelight creating a warm golden glow around the room. There had been champagne on ice, chocolate dipped strawberries, and a bathtub filled with bubbles for them to soak in.

Louis had thought that Harry had just been nervous about whether the hotel staff would’ve followed his instructions about the room set-up, but then he sheepishly brought out a small white bag and handed it over to Louis. He hadn’t thought to get Harry a present, not realising that a one-month anniversary required a celebration on this scale, and he’d felt quite guilty. That was until he’d opened Harry’s gift and found two g-strings (or thongs as the American’s call them); one red lace and one black satin. 

He flushes at the memory. Louis had been so overwhelmed and so fucking turned on that they’d pounced on each other and gone for a round before Louis had even put one of them on. Once they’d recovered, Louis had selected the red lace one at Harry’s urging, and round two commenced almost immediately, Harry rimming him into oblivion and then fucking him into the mattress.

At first, it had been a fun thing to do every now and then, half for laughs, and half for how riled up Harry got, but then Louis got to like the feel of them. Which is how he now finds himself standing on the floor of the stadium in Sydney, eleven-months later, wearing a lacey blue g-string, while the love of his life stands on stage and sings about his underwear to 45,000 people.

If they only knew.

Harry comes to the end of the song and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The crowd is waiting for the big finale. They know it’s coming and Louis would never want to disappoint them.

He walks over to the front of the stage as Harry swings his guitar around to his back, dropping to his knees. Louis plants his hands on the edge of the stage and pushes himself up, feet dangling off the ground as he cranes his neck and tilts his head up towards Harry.

“Love you, Lovely Louis,” Harry murmurs and leans down, kissing Louis’ pouting lips.

“Love you too, H.”

Louis drops back down onto his feet and saunters off, returning to his spot beside the stage, swaying his hips exaggeratedly as the crowd explodes into a cacophony of wolf-whistles and screams. 

He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Harry is staring at his arse, imagining the g-string hidden beneath his jeans, and that’s just as it should be.