Chapter Text

DECEMBER AGAIN

Harry waits until Louis leaves for work to get his baking done. Watching Louis try to sneak bites of cookie dough made that decision for him. There’s no way Louis could be trusted to keep his hands off the cookies when they’re warm and gooey from the oven. 

Niall and Liam are both shockingly good about not touching the fresh cookies, so he rewards them by letting them each have one when he’s finished wrapping them up. Thankfully, Harry’s closet is large enough that he has plenty of space to stash the guys’ presents and his cookie tins. 

Harry debates going to see Louis at the bar. It sounds like it might be fun, and Liam’s promised him that Louis never charges them for drinks, but he’s tired. Fridays are always his worst day as a teacher. He doesn’t like how much he looks forward to the weekend, but five days in a row at school is really exhausting. Some weeks it’s hard not to skip to his car on Friday afternoons, and times like this, with the holidays approaching, the kids are wired and it’s even more tiring than usual. In the end, Harry puts on his pajamas and stays in. He falls asleep at a decent hour, which is great because Louis wakes him up at four o’clock in the morning. 

“Harold!” Louis calls through the door, yanking Harry from a deep sleep. He knocks nonstop until Harry gets out of bed, and opens the door, and then he tries to knock on Harry’s face.

“Stop it,” Harry says, pushing Louis’ hand away. “It’s four in the morning, you dick.”

“You dick,” Louis repeats, tired eyes blinking slowly. “You gave Niall and Liam cookies.”

“Oh, go to bed, Lewis,” Harry says, trying to close the door, but Louis stops him.

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something? I helped dry the dishes,” Louis says, poking Harry in the chest. 

“Are you drunk?” Harry asks, poking him back right in the V where the top of his flannel shirt is unbuttoned. “Weren’t you at work?”

“Got off at two, drank a lot,” Louis says, pushing past Harry into his bedroom. “Paul?”

“Paul’s not here, dummy,” Harry says, covering a yawn. “What do you want?”

Louis opens one of Harry’s desk drawers, and says, “Cookies.”

“No.” Harry closes the drawer, almost shutting Louis’ hand inside, then he takes him by the shoulders and guides him back out of the room. “Go to bed, Louis.”

“I knew we shouldn’t’ve let you move in,” Louis says, throwing his hands in the air and stumbling across the hall to his room. He slams his bedroom door, and Harry closes his, leaning against it. It’s one thing to know, and another to hear it straight from Louis’ mouth. Harry gets back in bed, but doesn’t fall asleep right away, and when he finally drifts off, it’s a restless night that leads to a morning Harry doesn’t want to face. 

Before the rest of the loft wakes, Harry tiptoes out to the kitchen to make coffee, then takes it back to his room. According to their website, the mall opens at ten, so Harry only has to kill a few hours before he can sneak out of the loft and spend the entire day at the mall if that’s what it takes to find a gift for Paul. 

A little after nine, Harry’s trying to convince himself to get up and make himself another cup of coffee when Louis’ scratchy morning voice drifts through the door, “Harold.” Hoping he’ll go away, Harry keeps his mouth shut, but Louis is undeterred. He taps quietly on the door, and says, “Harry, I know you’re awake. Can I come in?”

“Fine,” Harry says, pulling his comforter up over his shoulders. 

The door slowly opens, and a very grumpy looking Louis appears. The longer his hair gets, the messier it is in the mornings, and it’s like a squirrel's nest today. He’s still in his jeans from last night, but they’re not buttoned, only half-zipped, and he’s shirtless, which means he probably got out of bed naked, pulled on his jeans, and padded across the hall. 

Rubbing his eyes, Louis shuts Harry’s door, then walks around and falls face first onto Harry’s bed. He lifts his head, and says, “Sorry I was a dick last night.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” Harry says, looking away. 

“I was pissed ’cause I thought we were having fun yesterday, but then the boys came up to the bar and Niall told me he ate your cookie, and—”

“Did he say it like that?” Harry asks, closing his eyes and shaking his head. 

“Like, did he make it sound dirty?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. “Of course he did. Liam was normal about it. Said you made the best cookies.”

Ignoring Liam’s compliment, the desire to get up and go tell Niall he’ll never have the privilege of eating his cookie, and the question of what exactly that means, Harry says, “You didn’t want me to move in here.”

“You already knew that,” Louis says, groaning and hiding his head under the pillow. “I didn’t mean what I said last night. I was just annoyed.”

“But you did mean it,” Harry says, frowning and turning to face him. “You said I knew—”

Louis’ hand lands roughly in the center of Harry’s chest, then he lifts it to cover Harry’s mouth. “I didn’t want you to move in, but I’m glad I got outvoted. I like you, Harold, except when you give everyone cookies but me.”

Because Louis doesn’t move it away, Harry licks the palm of his hand, and he jerks it back. Rolling to the side, Harry swings his legs off the bed, and gets up, going to his closet. He sits back down on the bed, and says, “I was going to give you these when you left for Chicago.”

“What?” Louis pushes himself up onto all fours so his ass is eye level and only inches away from Harry’s face. The dip of his waist is exaggerated by his position, and his back muscles shift as he sits up, resting on his heels. 

Thankful for the excuse to look at something other than Louis’ partially naked body, Harry passes him a round red metal tin with his name written on the lid in gold paint pen. “There’s a dozen ’cause I didn’t know if there were any in-laws or nieces or nephews back in Chicago, and I thought you might want to share.”

“I’m not sharing,” Louis says, grinning and taking the tin. He opens it, and does a little wiggle dance, setting the tin on the bed and choosing a cookie. “I’m really sorry about last night. Such a dick move, waking you up to yell at you about cookies.”

“Niall woke me up the other night yelling ‘Blammo!’ at like one in the morning,” Harry says, though he doubts that was intentional and he didn’t mention it to Niall the next day. 

“He says that after he orgasms,” Louis says, biting into a cookie and moaning. 

“How do you— Never mind,” Harry says, and when Louis holds the cookie up to take another bite, Harry pushes his hand, stuffing the cookie in his mouth. Louis’ shocked expression, choking and sputtering on the cookie is worth the time it’ll take to wash his bedding. 

Still coughing, Louis gets off the bed, and clears his throat again. “We going to the mall?”

“Think Liam and Niall will want to come?” Harry asks, brushing crumbs off his pajamas. 

“Let me hide my cookies and I’ll ask,” Louis says, closing the tin and stopping in Harry’s doorway to check both ways before darting across the hall and slamming his door. 

Harry hears the lock click, and laughs, shuffling off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. 

There are only a few more days until Christmas, and Paul, Louis, and Liam are all going home to see their families. Niall won’t be around for Christmas because he’s going to stay at his friend Benjamin’s house and look after his dog while he’s in Hawaii. Niall insists that they all—Paul and Zayn included—come to his office holiday party on the twenty-second so that he can see everyone dressed up and they can take a loft portrait. Because he didn’t know what else to do with Paul for the holiday, Harry latched onto that idea, and now he and Paul are going to meet up to exchange gifts before the party. If only Harry could think of what to get him. 

“Why did they come if they weren’t going to help?” Harry asks as Liam and Niall take off in the opposite direction as soon as they walk into the food court. 

“You don’t want their help anyway,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s elbow and steering him around one of the hundreds of Christmas trees inside the mall. “Niall’d probably tell you to buy Paul a butt plug and Liam would either suggest something like a basketball.” Louis pauses for Harry to groan, and laughs. “Or he’d say you should get tickets to a couple’s cruise or something.”

“How are those like the exact opposite ends of the gift giving spectrum?” Harry asks, dodging a kid with a lollipop in her hand. 

“So what’s the deal here?” Louis asks. “Do you and Paul have a price limit?”

“No, but what a great idea,” Harry says. The restriction would make it much more fun; the lower the better. “I think it’s like… it’s like I said yesterday. Everything with Paul is so new. We’ve only been together for a few weeks, and I don’t know him that well.”

Louis shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and says, “How do you feel about him, Mr. Talk-About-Your-Feelings? That might help you figure out a gift.”

“I don’t know. I like him, but I don’t know if it’ll be more than that,” Harry says, pulling his backup gift from his pocket. “I was getting desperate last night when I couldn’t think of anything, and I made him a gift certificate for sex, but I don’t want him to think that it’s only about sex for me. Like, I don’t want him to think I’m using him for his dick.”

“He’d probably be okay with that, actually,” Louis says, snatching the red envelope from Harry’s hand. He quickly dodges Harry’s attempts to take it back, and slips the card out, unfolding it, and reading it while Harry looks on, cheeks flushing. “Good for one night of piping hot sex—no refunds or XXXchanges. One night? That’s like a free sample or something. A coupon book is more of a Christmas gift, I think.”

“Give it back,” Harry says, reaching for it after Louis puts the card back into the envelope, and smacking Louis’ shoulder when he misses. “Free sample.”

Louis jerks his arm out of Harry’s grip, and turns away, blocking Harry with his back while he puts the envelope in his pocket. “I’m keeping this. I’ll redeem it for some piping hot sex when you least expect it.”

“Haha.” Harry lets him keep it. He’s not giving it to Paul anyway. Louis isn’t wrong about a coupon book being the better option, and if he had the time or the imagination, he’d do it, but all he can think of to make coupons for right now are a few different positions and maybe sex on the couch, though he doesn’t know how he’d guarantee they wouldn’t be interrupted by one of his roommates. A book of five coupons is almost sadder than a single coupon. Harry sighs, and wanders into the Hallmark store. 

“Not a bad idea,” Louis says, picking up a Charlie Brown snow globe and giving it a shake. “Even if you guys don’t have a price limit, you should set one for yourself. Like, thirty dollars before tax or something.”

“Okay, yeah,” Harry says, taking the snow globe from Louis and setting it back on the shelf. “Nothing breakable.”

“Snoopy?” Louis asks, bopping Harry on the nose with a stuffed Snoopy wearing a Santa hat. 

“He’s cute,” Harry says, taking the toy and straightening Snoopy’s scarf. “I like it. I’ll give him this and I’ll make him a new coupon that says it’s good for sex and, like, breakfast in bed.”

“Great,” Louis says, picking up the Charlie Brown snow globe again. “I’m getting this.”

“It’s fifty bucks,” Harry says, and Louis whines dramatically, stomping his feet. 

Pulling out his wallet, Louis says, “Split it with me. It’ll be the only Christmas decoration in the loft and it’ll be ours. Liam and Niall can’t touch.”

“Alright,” Harry says, bidding goodbye to another twenty-five dollars. He gives it a week before the snow globe is shattered.

On the way back to the loft, Harry takes them through one of the neighborhoods he found his first year in LA. It’s late afternoon, so none of the houses are lit up, but some of their inflatable decorations are on, and it’s probably all he’ll get to see today. 

“Where are we?” Niall asks, peering out the back window. 

“Candy Cane Lane,” Harry says, slowing as he comes to the intersection with Snow Street. “At night it’s really beautiful. All the lights and decorations. I used to drive through here the night before I’d fly home for Christmas.”

“We’ll have to come back at night,” Louis says, leaning back in his seat. 

“Niall’s office party’s tonight, Lou,” Harry says, waving at the family adding more lights to their front porch. “And your flight’s Christmas Eve.”

Niall clears his throat, and says, “Louis’—”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Niall!” Louis yells, making Harry’s ears ring as he turns in his seat to scowl at Niall in the backseat. “I can’t miss my flight again. Don’t even suggest it.”

Liam huffs a laugh, and says, “I think he was saying—”

“Liam! You, too?” Louis reaches back and smacks Liam’s knee. “Let it go! Both of you!”

“It’s fine, guys,” Harry reassures them, smiling in the rearview mirror. “I’ve driven through here every year by myself. It’s not a big deal.”

Once they’re back at the loft, Harry makes a new coupon for Paul, and wraps his Snoopy in tissue paper and puts it in a gift bag. He isn’t supposed to be looking forward to Niall’s office party, but he’s actually never attended one before. Schools don’t do holiday parties. Harry and his teacher friends all went out to dinner on a Thursday night and exchanged bottles of wine with each other before getting so trashed on Margaritas that they were all hungover the next day. He did go to one party with Spencer during his brief stint working for a caterer, but Harry was there more as a moral support than as a date. 

For Niall’s office party, Harry dresses up in his purple floral embroidered suit because it’s his nicest, most expensive outfit, and he loves the way he feels in it. Whenever he wears it, people compliment him, and then he gets the pleasure of telling them he found it at a consignment shop in Portland. It’s always a conversation starter, and he doesn’t know anyone Niall works with, and it’ll give Paul a taste of what Harry’s like outside school and outside the bedroom. 

Harry puts his jacket on and takes it off at least a dozen times before finally hanging it on the back of his desk chair because he made himself start sweating. He turns on his fan, and untucks his black shirt, unbuttoning it all the way, and standing there until he cools down. When he buttons it again, he leaves the top two undone, tucks it in, and puts on his black boots. He needs a glass of wine before Paul arrives.

“Oh!” Harry holds his hand to his heart, and Louis laughs, pushing away from the door. He tucks his thumbs into the pockets of his dark jeans, rocking back on his heels. Taking in Louis’ grey tweed jacket, and blue plaid shirt with thin stripes of bright green, Harry smiles, and says, “You startled me, Lewis.”

Louis tugs on his collar, and Harry reaches out to fix it without thinking, but Louis doesn’t stop him. He lets Harry straighten his collar, but knocks his hand away when he unfastens the top button of his shirt. “Stop trying to get me naked, Harold.”

“Your buttons are wrong,” Harry says, and Louis frowns down at them. The doorbell rings, and Harry sighs. “I wanted to have a glass of wine before he got here.”

“Paul?” Louis asks, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Go get your wine. I’ll stall him.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hurrying off to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother with a glass, opening the rosé he started a few nights ago, and drinking directly from the bottle. He can hear Louis and Paul talking, but he can’t make out the words, and he doesn’t really care what they’re saying.

“Well, hello,” Niall says, walking out of his bedroom wearing a black and white checked shirt, and black trousers, Santa hat perched jauntily on his head. He holds up a tiny velvet drawstring bag, and it jingles. “My costume. Gotta go. See you guys there.”

Harry nods while finishing off his rosé, then swallows and wipes his mouth, gently setting the bottle in the recycling bin, and following Niall through the loft. Paul and Niall bump fists on Niall’s way out the door, then Paul turns back to Louis, and Harry stifles a laugh. Louis stalled him by asking him to help fix his buttons. At least they’re properly done up now, but there’s an unwelcome flare of possessiveness and jealousy in the pit of his stomach that takes Harry by surprise. 

“What?” Harry asks, realizing he’s missed something.

Louis snaps his fingers in front of Harry’s face, and says, “Paul was just helping me with my buttons.”

“I can see that,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. 

Turning to face Harry so that his back is to Paul, Louis mouths, “You’re welcome!”

“Paul, do you want to, um… come to my room,” Harry suggests with a smile, nodding towards the hall. 

“Yeah,” Paul says, taking Harry’s hand and holding it out to the side. “Love this suit.”

“Thank you,” Harry says with a glance at Paul’s navy suit, white shirt, and red tie. “Navy blue looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” Paul blushes, and Harry leads him to his room, dropping his hand once they’re inside and going into his closet to grab Paul’s gift. 

Harry holds the little gift bag in both hands, extending his arms, and says, “Merry Christmas.”

“Our first Christmas together,” Paul says, taking an envelope from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “On three?”

“One, two, three,” they count together, then exchange gifts quickly, laughing quietly when their hands bump awkwardly. 

Harry waits while Paul opens his gift bag, and Paul’s eyes go wide as he pulls Snoopy out by his hat. “Oh, he’s a cutie, isn’t he?”

“I’m glad you like him,” Harry says, pointing at the bag. “There’s a card.”

Paul opens the unsealed envelope, unfolding the card, eyes scanning it. He sputters a laugh, and says, “Love this. You’re so creative.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, pulling a folded piece of paper from Paul’s envelope. He opens it, and gasps. “Two tickets to Vienna? Oh my god. Paul, I gave you a homemade coupon for sex and Snoopy.”

“Yeah, but it’s great,” Paul says, holding up his coupon to face Harry. “Redeeming this tonight.”

“Your gift is so… it’s so nice,” Harry says, trying not to think about the cost of round trip airfare from LA to Austria. He takes Snoopy from Paul’s lap and adjusts his scarf. “Mine’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Paul says, taking Snoopy back. “It’s great. It’s fun and unexpected. Like you! And I… I love it. I really love it.” Setting Snoopy aside, Paul pulls Harry into a hug, and Harry smiles against his shoulder. “I love it, Harry. I do. I… I love you.”

Harry catches their reflection in the mirror in his closet, and closes his eyes when he sees the astonished look in them. He hugs Paul tighter, swallows, and whispers, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Paul says, and rubs Harry’s arms, putting a little space between them. 

“So… You really like the Snoopy?” Harry asks, getting up and slipping his arms into his jacket, praying Paul won’t say it again, and that he’ll go along with the change of subject.

“I do,” Paul says, standing and opening the bedroom door. “I love that suit. Amazing.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, grimacing as soon as he knows Paul can’t see his face. 

Since Niall already left, the rest of them ride to the party in Harry’s station wagon. Thankfully, the second they step out of the building onto the sidewalk, Louis calls shotgun, and Harry makes a mental note to bake him more cookies. 

Associated Strategies, or Ass. Strat. as Niall calls it, is decorated for the holiday with lights and artificial snow, making Harry curious how festive the party will be. Niall is supposed to be dressed as Sexy Santa, but Harry has no idea what to expect other than that. 

Paul links their hands together as they climb the steps of Ass. Strat. and Harry can’t find an excuse to let go until he sees Zayn and his most recent boyfriend, a photographer named Kyle. 

“Z!” Harry drops Paul’s hand and hurries over to Zayn, throwing his arms around him in a hug. “You wore it!”

Zayn reaches up to touch his green Christmas tree hat, jingling the bell on the top of the tree. “Of course. So fashionable, my beautiful bauble.”

“Ooh…” Harry widens his eyes, and says, “Love that one. What else you got?”

“Saucy cranberry,” Zayn says, and Harry laughs, throwing his head back. 

As soon as Harry gets close enough, Paul takes his hand again, and they wade through the office full of festively dressed employees, past a bar and a bartender, and a few waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres. Rounding the corner, Harry drops Paul’s hand again, and brings his own up to cover his mouth. 

Sitting in a leather desk chair, wearing a Santa hat, a fake beard, a bell covered collar, and a tiny pair of red shorts, is Niall. 

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Niall bellows, voice lecherous and unnaturally low as a woman in a cocktail dress sits on his lap. 

“Are those my shorts?” Harry asks, because they look like his red Nike running shorts. 

“I think so,” Louis says. “Do you think he’s seen us or can we run away and hide?”

“I’m going to go get us some drinks. Beer, Louis?” Paul offers, and when Louis nods, Paul steps away and heads back towards the bar. 

Looking around, Harry doesn’t recognize a soul other than Louis. Liam’s wandered off, Zayn and Kyle are huddled in the corner, so Harry takes the opportunity to do as Louis suggested and hide. Harry ducks behind a row of filing cabinets, covering his face with his hands. 

“What’s going on?” Louis asks, leaning up against the filing cabinet beside him. “You’re acting weird, and not in your usual way. Like, bad weird.”

Harry glances around, and whispers, “Paul told me he loved me. And I couldn’t say it back. So I said thank you, which I think is worse than not saying anything at all.”

“Oh…” Louis brushes his hair off his forehead, and hums. “Do you think it was just too early? Like, do you think you’ll get there?”

Shaking his head, Harry says, “I don’t know. I mean, I like him, but…”

“Harold, if you don’t feel the same, you should tell him,” Louis says softly, shrugging one shoulder. 

“Yeah, but it’s Christmas,” Harry says, already feeling guilty over the thought of ending things with Paul.  “And then it’s New Year’s, and—”

Louis squeezes Harry’s arm. “Harry, if you don’t tell him now, it’ll hurt him more. It’s like leading him on. Or like, you know When Harry Met Sally when Billy Crystal’s wife leaves him, and she waits to tell him she wants a divorce because she doesn’t want to ruin his birthday?”  

“Yes,” Harry says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay. You’re right. I have to tell him.”

“Yeah, you do,” Louis says, and Harry blinks, smiling and reaching up to rub his thumb over Louis’ scruffy jaw. “What’re you doing?”

“You have glitter in your beard.” Scratching lightly, Harry frowns at the immovable sparkles, and says, “Didn’t realize you knew When Harry Met Sally that well.”

“Are you kidding?” Louis takes Harry’s hand, holding it away from his face. “I love romcoms. But you’re making excuses.”

“Fine.” Harry heaves a sigh. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”

“Good boy, Harold,” Louis says, and Harry blushes, heading for the bathroom instead. 

He pushes the door open, and stops short when Zayn’s just inside, standing by the sink. He gives Harry a small, sad smile, and says, “Hey.”

“What are you doing in here?” Harry asks, and Zayn takes a deep breath. 

“Kyle’s being a dick,” Zayn says, and Harry huffs. “Yes, per usual. What are you doing in here?”

“Paul told me he loved me, and I said thank you because I don’t love him. Louis says I have to tell him, so I’m hiding,” Harry says, and Zayn nods, taking Harry by the hips and guiding him over to the mirror. 

“Fix your hair,” Zayn says, and Harry does as he’s told, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Louis is right. You do have to tell Paul, so… suck it up, my sweet little plum pudding.”

“I love you,” Harry says, leaning his head back on Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn kisses Harry’s cheek, and says, “Love you, Christmas cookie.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Harry says, combing his fingers through his hair and messing it up again. “Push me out the door.”

Hands still on Harry’s hips, Zayn nudges him towards the door. “I’m pushing, I’m pushing.”

“Hey, did Kyle get you anything for Christmas?” Harry asks on his way out the door. He doesn’t quite hear Zayn’s response, but it sounds like a no. 

Of course, when he wants to see Paul, he can’t find him. Harry walks around the office party twice, then walks past a glass door he missed the first time, and spies Louis and Paul outside. As Harry approaches, Paul and Louis embrace, and Louis pats his back. Confused, Harry pushes open the door.

“Is this where all the cool kids hang out?” Harry asks, and doesn’t even earn a snicker from either of them despite the fact that they’re both usually quick to laugh at his jokes. “What’s going on? Why are you guys hugging?”

“No reason!” Louis says, looking to the side, then tipping his chin up and staring over the top of Harry’s head. 

“Just talking! Just talking,” Paul says with a watery laugh, then he sings, “Talking about a revolution sounds like a whisper…”

“Tracy Chapman, alright,” Harry says, letting the glass door close behind him. “Were you talking about music?”

“I told him you didn’t love him,” Louis says, finally meeting Harry’s gaze.

“What?” Harry gasps. 

“He was really nice about it,” Paul reassures him, and Louis nods, then tries to step around Harry towards the door. 

“Why would you do that?” Harry asks, swatting at Louis with both hands. “This has nothing to do with you! Why would you— That wasn’t yours to tell!”

“I’m sorry!” Louis dodges Harry’s hands, and backs away. “I’m sorry!”

“What is wrong with you?” Harry finally lands a good smack on Louis’ upper arm as he darts past him towards the door.

“You two have a lot to talk about so—” Louis yanks on the door handle, but the door doesn’t budge. “No! No, please, no. Don’t be locked.”

Ignoring Louis isn’t easy, but Harry tries. He takes Paul’s hand, and says, “I really like you, Paul. I care about you a lot.”

“Louis told me,” Paul says, and Harry closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.

“Well, he’s right,” Harry says, trying to focus on Paul and not Louis’ incessant knocking behind him. “I just, um… My last relationship… I got hurt pretty badly, and I, um… I think I need time to kind of get there, you know?”

“Yeah, I understand,” Paul says, and Louis’ knocking gets louder. “I knew… I mean, you told me about Spencer. I guess I thought we were on the same page though.”

“I think, um… I think you’re a few pages ahead of me,” Harry says, and when Louis begins to bang on the door with both fists, Harry spins around, and shouts, “Louis! This is your fault, so sit down and shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Louis says, turning his back to the door and hiding his face in his hands as he slides down to sit on the ground. 

“Paul, it’s just… I’m trying so hard not to get hurt again, you know?”

“I would never hurt you,” Paul promises so sincerely that Harry can feel himself starting to give in.

“What if we…” Harry clears his throat, and asks, “What if we just take it slow? Slow down a little?”

Paul sighs, rubbing his temples. “I don’t think I can do that. I don’t think I know how.”

“All he’s asking you to do is slow down a bit, man,” Louis interjects, and Harry stares daggers at him. “What? It’s not hard!”

“Louis!” Harry yells, and Louis nods, dropping his head back against the glass door. Turning to Paul again, Harry says, “I’m sorry, Paul. I just need to take it slow, you know?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Paul says quietly, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can. It wouldn’t feel right to me. And I… If you need that, I don’t think I can do this any—”

“Come on, Paul!” Louis whines loudly, kicking at the dead leaves gathered in the corner by the door. “It’s Christmas! Don’t break up with him.”

“Shh…” Harry leans forward and presses his hand over Louis’ mouth. “It’s okay, Lou.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul says, and Harry tries to smile. 

“Me too,” Harry whispers, opening his arms wide for a hug. 

“Oh my god, get me out of here,” Louis mutters, standing up and knocking on the door again. 

Liam appears on the other side of the glass, and the second he opens the door, Louis screams in triumph and pushes past him into the building. Liam clears his throat, and asks, “Have you guys seen a little kid? Brown hair, glasses, plaid shirt?”

“No,” Harry says, and Paul shakes his head. “I’ll help you look.”

“I’ll, um… I’m going to call a cab,” Paul says, following them back into the building. “I’ll see you at school, Harry.”

“Bye, Paul,” Harry says, pressing his lips together. He turns to Liam, and asks, “Who are we looking for?”

“Niall’s boss’ kid,” Liam says, taking off down the hall with Harry on his heels. “I think he got upset because of Niall’s Sexy Santa, and now we can’t find him.”

“How old is he?” Harry asks, heading down the hall towards the front of the building.

“I don’t know,” Liam says as they pass Paul sitting on a bench by the exit. “Seven, maybe? That’s a guess.”

“Think he might be in there?” Harry steps outside, pointing at the large, lighted igloo surrounded by ice skating penguin decorations. 

Liam runs down the stairs and around to the igloo, then stops and gives Harry two thumbs up before squatting down in front of the igloo. 

Relieved that the kid’s been found, Harry heads back inside. In the short time since he passed Paul on the bench by the door, he’s disappeared, and that’s probably for the best. Now that he’s dateless, Harry finds the quickest route to the bar, and orders a vodka cranberry, sipping it as he walks around the party looking for Zayn. They find each other back at the bar a little while later.

“Hey,” Harry says, taking a drink of his second cocktail. “Paul and I broke up.”

“Tis the season,” Zayn says, ordering a vodka on the rocks. “I broke up with Kyle.”

“Really?” Harry asks, linking their arms together as they try to find a place to sit. 

“Yeah, he was being a dick,” Zayn says with a shrug. “He wanted to go to some party, and I said I wasn’t interested, and he said he hates how boring I am, so I told him it was over. Can you guys give me a ride?”

“Of course, yeah,” Harry says, taking Zayn to the now empty bench by the entrance. They sit side by side, and Harry rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “You’re working all through Christmas, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, on a boat,” Zayn answers with a bored sigh. 

“On a boat?” Harry asks, reaching for Zayn’s hand. “Will they let you wear your floaties?”

“Shut up,” Zayn says, elbowing Harry’s side. “They have life jackets. I asked. But I’m also bringing mine.”

“You own a life jacket?” Harry narrows his eyes, looking at Zayn through his lashes. “It’s like I don’t know you at all.”

“Please, you know me too well most of the time,” Zayn says, waving at Liam when he comes through the entrance with Elvin. When they pass by, Zayn whispers, “I overheard Niall’s boss offer Liam a nanny job.”

“A job’s a job,” Harry says, remembering his days as a nanny. “I think Liam would make a good nanny. He was really worried about that kid tonight.”

“He’s a good guy,” Zayn says, tipping his cup back and draining his drink. “How long are we staying at this thing?”

“Until Santa Niall is finished, I guess.” Harry looks the other way down the hall, and says, “Louis is supposed to drive.”

“Louis stayed sober tonight?” Zayn asks with a short, sharp laugh. 

“We drew straws,” Harry says, shaking his empty cup and fishing a piece of ice out. He crunches down on the ice, and hums. 

“Hey,” Zayn says, patting Harry’s leg. “I’m sorry about Paul.”

“It’s just… It’s bad timing,” Harry says, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

“You guys ready to go?” Liam asks, appearing in front of them again, dragging Louis behind him. 

“Yeah, should we say goodbye to Niall?” Harry asks, peeking back into the party and shaking his head. “Never mind. We’ll see him at home.”

Louis opens the door, and they all slip out without saying goodbye. He jogs to catch up to Harry, and says, “Harold, man, I’m really sorry about what happened with Paul.”

“Why did you tell him?” Harry asks quietly, handing over his keys and getting into the passenger seat of his station wagon. 

When Louis climbs behind the wheel, he says, “It was a mixup. Promise. I thought he looked upset, so I asked if you guys had talked, and he said yes, only he meant you’d talked about something else, and I… I sort of panicked. I told him way too much.”

“What else did you say?” Harry asks despite being afraid to hear the answer.

“That you said the sex was great, and you really liked him, but you wanted to slow down,” Louis says, starting the engine, and pulling out of the parking space. 

“All true things,” Harry says. 

“You want to go to Candy Cane Lane?” Louis asks, and Harry smiles. 

It’s not a long drive to Candy Cane Lane where they join the long line of cars inching down the street past the lights and decorations. 

“You’re right, it’s better at night,” Louis says.

“Of course it’s better at night,” Liam says with a loud scoff. 

“Every other time I’ve been through here, it’s been super late, and there haven’t been many other people,” Harry says, waving at a family walking down the sidewalk. “I like seeing other people enjoy it too.”

“Does it make you want a tree in the loft?” Zayn asks, pulling himself up to rest his chin on Harry’s seat. 

“Niall’s very anti-Christmas decorations,” Harry says, leaning back against the headrest. “Because it ruins his loft aesthetic.”

“I’ll ruin his loft aesthetic,” Zayn says, and Harry giggles. 

“We’re working on it,” Louis says with a grin in Harry’s direction. “Harold and I bought a snow globe. We’re going to add little holiday decorations one by one, and by the time Niall notices, it’ll be too late.”

“He already noticed the snow globe,” Liam says, propping his feet up onto the console between Harry and Louis. “I told him you guys had a bet to see how long it’d take him to notice it, and that Louis said you’d notice right away, but Harry said it’d take a day or two, so he’s determined to pretend not to notice it, so neither of you win.”

“Thanks, man,” Louis says, grabbing Liam’s shoe and pushing his feet back off the console. “You think you could do the same if we put up a tree?”

“Why do you want a tree anyway, Louis?” Liam asks, kicking Louis’ arm out of the way. “You hate—”

“I hate real trees, yes!” Louis announces, drowning out whatever else Liam was about to say. “Real trees leave such a mess! But Harold here said they have artificial trees. Can you believe that?”

“Sounds fake,” Liam says flatly. 

“Exactly,” Louis says, throwing a wink at Harry as he pulls back onto the highway, taking them home for the night.