Chapter Text

JUNE AGAIN

Louis and Dominic might not be “like that” whatever that is, but they start spending more time together, and a lot of that time is at the bar, which means Harry has a front row seat to the show. Thankfully, Louis and Dominic don’t seem serious because Harry does not want to adjust to their tendency to make out and grind against each other wherever they might be when the urge hits. 

One night about a week after the first softball game, Harry leaves before they’ve finished closing the bar. He’s not doing all the work while Louis and Dominic go at it on one of the prep tables in the kitchen. 

It’s terrible. Being single is hard enough without Louis rubbing it in his face that he’s not. The only reason Harry doesn’t bitch about it more than he does—and he does, loudly and often—is that Louis didn’t complain much when Harry and Sam were hooking up. 

Today, to distract him from Louis and Dominic, his own nonexistent love life, and the search for a teaching job that he’s virtually abandoned, Harry focuses on Liam’s problems. Liam loves working in radio, but despite everything he’s tried to make the situation more tolerable, he hates his boss, and being someone’s assistant doesn’t offer much, if any, room for growth. 

“I want to be on the radio,” Liam says, causing Harry to heave yet another exasperated sigh. 

“What did I say?” Harry asks, popping the top off a beer and setting it on the bar in front of Liam. 

“I don't know if I have the balls to just ask for it.” Liam pouts at his beer, then takes a long pull. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Harry likes this part of being a bartender. Giving advice and pretending he knows what he’s talking about, asking rhetorical questions, or questions with obvious answers, or saying things like, “It is what it is,” which he stole from Louis. 

“The worst that could happen is I lose my job,” Liam says, tapping his fingers against the side of his beer bottle. “But I don’t think they’ll fire me, so realistically, the worst that could happen is I piss off my boss, and he’s angry all the time anyway, so…”

“So… You should go for it,” Harry says.

Liam peels the corner of the label on his beer. “Maybe I should.”

“You should do it now,” Harry says, snatching the beer back. 

“Really?” Liam checks his phone, and says, “Four o’clock. The suits are still in their meeting.”

“Do it!” Harry reaches across the bar, and shoves Liam’s shoulder. “Do it now!”

“Okay, okay,” Liam says, sliding off his bar stool. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Don’t come back until it’s done!” Harry shouts as Liam walks towards the door. 

“What’s he doing?” Louis asks, and Harry jerks back, hand to his heart. 

“You’d know if you weren’t always so busy fucking your boyfriend in the alley,” Harry says, dumping Liam’s half-finished beer in the sink. 

“We aren’t always fucking,” Louis says, crossing his arms. 

Harry tosses the empty beer bottle in the recycling bin, and says, “My mistake.”

“No mistake. He was sucking my dick,” Louis admits, smirking when Harry groans miserably. 

Grabbing the empty ice bucket, Harry pushes past Louis on his way to the kitchen, smiling sweetly as he says, “I hate you.” 

“You love me!” Louis calls after him, and Harry lets the door swing closed without responding, grateful for the relative quiet of the kitchen.

Less than an hour later, Liam returns to the bar, hopping onto his stool, big grin on his face. “Look at me!”

“I’m looking,” Louis says, handing Liam a beer. 

“How’d it go?” Harry asks, resting against the bar. 

Raising his hands high in the air, Liam announces, “You’re looking at the producer of his very own sports talk show!” 

“Oh my god!” Harry claps, leaning over the bar and hugging Liam around the neck. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, man,” Liam says. 

Harry drops back down onto his feet, and says, “I’m so happy for you, Li.”

“When can we hear your dulcet tones?” Louis asks, reaching across the bar to tug on Liam’s ear. 

“Prime time for truckers, baby!” Liam claps and says, “2:35 to 5:35 a.m.”

“Amazing,” Louis says. “Proud of you. Moving up in the world.”

“Thank you.” Liam tips his beer back, taking a long sip. “I’m going to have to adjust my sleep schedule.”

“Yeah?” Harry sits on top of the beer cooler, and says, “Six to two, uhh… six to two, or something in between?”

“I think it’ll be easier to go to sleep before work, like, get up, eat dinner—”

“Or breakfast,” Harry suggests. “Since that’ll be your morning.”

“Right, right.” Liam bobs his head side to side, and says, “So, I’ll need to leave the loft at 1:45 to get to the radio station on time, and like, it’ll be easier for me to get to sleep if none of you are home, so that happy time is usually somewhere between four and six p.m. If I go to bed at four, wake up at midnight, eat breakfast, and shower…”

“You aren’t going to be able to hang out,” Louis says with a dramatic pout. 

“Still have two days off a week,” Liam says. “And I’ll be wide awake at the best time for hanging out. Midnight to four a.m.”

“Whatever works for you,” Harry says. “Not like you can’t change your mind if you think you’ll sleep better in the morning.”

“True.” Liam knocks his knuckles against the bar, and says, “And I start Monday, so I want to throw a party before my first show.”

“A party?” Niall asks, appearing from nowhere. “Where? When? Who are we inviting?”

While Liam fills Niall in on his news, Niall’s eyes grow bigger and bigger, and when Liam finishes explaining, Niall says, “A rebranding. Rebranding!”

“It’s a party,” Liam says, and Niall loudly scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

Niall claps Liam on the shoulder, and says, “You’re going from lowly assistant to—”

“I wouldn’t say lowly,” Liam interrupts. 

“From lowly assistant to radio personality,” Niall says. He smiles, cupping Liam’s cheek. “Let me take care of everything. We’ll host it at the loft. And the theme will be…”

“Don’t say danger,” Louis says. 

Liam laughs and says, “I’m betting it’s danger.”

“It’s not danger!” Niall bangs his fists on the bar. “Although, that’s not a bad idea for a theme.”

“It’s been the theme for your last three birthdays,” Louis says. 

“He does themed birthdays?” Harry asks, looking from Louis to Niall. 

“Oh, that’s right… You missed his twenty-eighth,” Louis says, stepping closer to Harry and rubbing his lower back. “It was right after you moved in. You were watching Dirty Dancing.”

Harry gasps quietly, eyes wide. “You didn’t invite me?” 

“Actually, I did,” Niall says. “Don’t think you heard me over the sobbing.”

Sticking his lower lip out, Harry says, “Oh.” 

“Anyway,” Niall says, turning back to Liam. “The theme will be rebirth!”

“Rebirth?” Liam frowns and asks, “You aren’t going to baptize me, are you?”

“No…” Niall shakes his head like he was planning to do exactly that. 

There isn’t much time at all to plan the party, but luckily Louis and Harry are still working the same schedule, and have Saturday night off. Niall does as promised, and takes care of everything. Party decorations, cases of beer, and bottles of booze take over the surface of the dining table, and every night when Harry and Louis come home from the bar, there’s more stuff on top of the pile. When they leave for work on Friday, the pile has spilled over into the chairs and onto the floor, but Niall is there, dutifully and happily sorting. 

Liam’s party, or rebirth, starts with a literal bang when Niall smashes a gong he borrowed just for the occasion, and except for having to lock his bedroom door to keep Louis and Dominic from desecrating his space, the party’s going off without a hitch until Harry sees Sam standing in the open doorway. 

“Zayn,” Harry whispers, ducking down behind him, then shimmying over to hide behind Robby instead. “Sam's here!”

Zayn looks around the loft, and way too loudly, he asks, “Sam? Where?”

“Shhh…” Harry peeks between Zayn and Robby, and says, “Near the door. Keep me hidden.”

With a grip on each of their shirts, Harry shifts them around as Sam walks through the loft. Backing towards the hallway, Harry drags Zayn and Robby with him until he’s safely hidden in the bathroom and they’re blocking the door. 

“What’s he doing here?” Harry asks, and a familiar moan drifts from inside the stall. Any control over his temper evaporates, and Harry hammers his fists against the sidewall of the stall. “I fucking hate you, Louis Tomlinson! I hope you enjoy this orgasm, because I’m going to make it my mission to ruin every chance you get to have one from now on!”

Robby points at the stall door, and whispers, “Is he… Are they…”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Louis says from inside the stall.

“Shut up,” Harry snaps. He turns to Zayn, and whines, “Why is Sam here?”

“My fault,” Sarah says, pushing her growing belly between Zayn and Robby to get into the bathroom. “I was at the liquor store—really freaks people out seeing a pregnant person buying booze—and I bumped into Niall. We were at the register talking about the party, and Sam walked in. One thing led to another, and I accidentally invited him.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Harry takes a deep breath, walking over to the mirror to check his reflection, and he’s already flushed, hair messy from running his fingers through it. 

“I meant to. I was going to call you as soon as I left the liquor store, but I forgot,” Sarah says, rubbing her belly. She beats on the stall door, and yells, “Get out! I have to piss and it’s either in that toilet or on your bed, Louis.”

“Shit, shit, alright.” Louis opens the door, tucking himself back into his pants as he walks out of the stall. 

“Were you still fucking with us all right here?” Zayn grimaces, stepping out of the way. Smirking, Dominic shrugs, and Harry fights the desire to throw him through a wall. Not that he’d be able to, or even actually want to, but the impulse is there. 

“Use this to clean up if you need to.” Harry yanks Louis’ towel off the hook by the shower, and hands it to Sarah, who smiles, and takes it with her into the stall. “Sarah, how could you forget to tell me?”

“Pregnancy, H,” Sarah says with a sigh. “I’m lucky I remembered to put on shoes before I left the house. This baby is sucking my brain out through my uterus. I’m really sorry.”

“Ugh…” Harry moves away from the mirror, scowling at Louis as he takes his place and turns on the sink. “At least you have the decency to wash your hands.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Louis says. 

“Oh, believe me, that’s the last thing I am.” Harry clasps his hands in front of his chest, turns to Zayn and Robby and begs, “Please get me out of here before Sam sees me.”

“You got it,” Robby says. He turns around, facing into the hallway, and sticks his arms out behind him. “Stand as close as you can to me.” Harry only hesitates a second before doing so, then Zayn presses up against his back. 

“We’ll take the sides,” Louis says, pointing at Dominic who positions himself on Harry's left. 

They make their way through the hallway and to the front door, Louis opens it, and the four of them crowd together while Harry runs for the stairs. It’s late, and he doesn’t want to walk around the neighborhood in the dark, so Harry goes up to the roof. It’s not like he needs to get drunk to celebrate Liam’s new job. He and Liam had a lot of fun together earlier that evening making fun of Niall, asking him where the birthing pool would be set up, and whether or not he would be performing the ceremony.

Alone on the roof, there’s nothing for Harry to do but think, and of course, his mind is on Sam. Hopefully Sarah didn't give him the impression that Harry wanted him to come to the party. 

While he’s up there, he might as well be comfortable, so Harry settles in one of the lawnchairs in the corner of the roof, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, hands linked on his stomach. Listening to the sounds of the city, Harry breathes steadily until he feels calm. He could fall asleep up on the roof, and a little while later he’s almost there.

“You like being on your knees for me,” Louis says, voice drifting across the roof. Harry bolts upright, whipping his head towards the side of the building where their balcony is. He clambers out of the chair, heading for the low brick wall.  

Either the wind is just right, Louis is very loud, Harry's ears have been trained to pick up Louis’ sex sounds against his will, or he’s imagining things. 

There’s no reason to be sneaky when he fully plans to interrupt, so Harry plants his hands on the bricks, and leans over the wall to look at the balcony about twenty feet below, confirming his suspicions. 

“I heard you way the fuck up here!” Harry shouts down at them. 

Head tipped back, mouth hanging open, Louis locks eyes with Harry, and grunts, tearing his gaze away, and thrusting faster, fucking Dominic’s face. Harry pushes back from the low brick wall, but not before he sees Louis pull Dominic off his cock, come spurting over Dominic’s lips and chin. It happens in seconds, and Harry's worry about Sam is engulfed by white hot rage. 

There’s nothing wrong with a little exhibitionism, but it seems like it’s always Harry who goes to the walk-in cooler for a keg of beer and interrupts Louis and Dominic giving each other handjobs, or Harry who presses the button to call the elevator and sees a flash of Louis’ bare ass when the doors slide open before he can pull his pants up. It’s become like a game to Louis. It’s as if he thinks it’s funnier if Harry catches them, like Harry’s blushes and anger are more valuable. Tonight Louis crossed a line, and Harry is ready to murder him. Not really, though he kind of wants Louis to think he might do it.

Harry storms over to the rooftop door, yanking it open while being sure not to hit himself in the face. He tromps down the stairs, freezing on the landing. 

“Hey,” Sam says, pausing halfway up the steps. “I was about to leave, but then I thought…”

Pushing himself forward, Harry starts down the steps, and Sam moves aside to let him pass. “I've had enough of exhibitionists today, thanks.” 

“Huh?” Sam turns to keep facing him as Harry walks past, and says, “Harry, please wait.”

Harry stops, dropping his chin to his chest, hands hanging heavy at his sides. “What?”

“I need to talk to you,” Sam says. He walks past Harry on the stairs, standing two steps below so Harry has to look down at him. “I want you back, Harry. I know I messed up, and I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Harry pushes his hair back off his forehead, then crosses his arms. “And you just expect me to be here, waiting?”

“No.” Sam shakes his head, reaching out for Harry’s arm, and drawing his hand back. “No, I don’t expect anything. But I had to try, you know?”

“I don’t understand why… Why should I believe you?” Harry hugs himself tighter, and meets Sam's gaze. “I wouldn’t’ve known your last name or that you were a doctor if you hadn’t accidentally forgotten your wallet! You haven’t exactly been… forthcoming. And now you… you just show up and I’m supposed to believe you want a real relationship?”

“I know.” Keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s, Sam says, “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Looking down at his shoes, Harry sighs. “I mean, I want to believe you, but—”

Sam takes Harry’s face in his hands, pulling him into a bruising kiss, and Harry jerks back, turning his head. 

“No!” Harry’s shout echoes around the stairwell, so he lowers his voice. “You can’t just kiss me! Why would you do that?”

“I thought I could show you—”

“That’s all this was to you. All of it. The whole time,” Harry says, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

“No, it wasn’t, Harry, I—”

“I’m not doing this. I’m always so ready to believe the best in people, and I’m just… I’m tired of being gullible. I’m done,” Harry says. He should leave, but he stays put, waiting for Sam's response.

“I’m sorry.” Reaching for the stair rail, Sam moves out of Harry’s way. “I wish things were different, but I get it. I screwed up, and now it’s too late.”

Pressing his lips together tightly, Harry nods, and says, “Yep. Exactly.”

“I’ll, um…” Sam gestures vaguely in the direction of the door to the Dth floor, and says, “I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Giving Sam a wide berth, Harry walks around him, hurrying down the steps. “I’m leaving this time.”

Harry rushes back to the loft, pushing past the party guests still hanging around despite the fact that the lights are all up, and the music’s off. Fumbling with the key pin, Harry finally pops the lock to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it. 

Before Harry can take his shoes off, there’s a knock at the door, and Louis says, “Harold?”

“What do you want?” Harry asks, sitting on the edge of his bed as Louis opens the door. 

“Hey, um, I wanted to apologize,” Louis says, shutting the door. Harry stares up at him, but Louis keeps his eyes trained on the floor. 

“What’s the point in apologizing when you’re probably going to be fucking on the couch when I get home from the grocery store tomorrow?” 

“Sorry. Ughhhh… Sorry.” Louis drops onto the bed beside him, laying back with his hands covering his face. “Dominic is really into public sex. And it’s hard to say no.”

“How difficult for you,” Harry deadpans, clenching his jaw. He crosses his arms, resting them on his knees, and turns his head to watch as Louis sits back up. “Can you just… stop? Like, grow a pair and tell your boyfriend that your friends are tired of being brought into your sex life without consent. Jesus.”

Louis groans, hugging his knees and hiding his face against them. “Okay. I’ll say something. When you put it that way, I— I really am sorry.”

“I will interrupt you mid-coitus if it ever happens again,” Harry says, and though Louis’ face is hidden, his ears blush bright pink. “Now I know your O-face.”

“Shut up.” Louis sits up, bumping their shoulders. “You said coitus.”

“Sam asked me for a second chance.” Harry studies Louis’ face, but he just looks on expectantly. “He said he made a mistake and wants to try for real.”

“You said no, didn’t you?” Louis asks, and when Harry nods, he reaches up and tugs one of Harry’s curls. “Why?”

“Because… Why should I believe him? It’s been like two months and now, all of a sudden, he wants a real relationship?”

“Maybe it took him that long to realize, or maybe he knew it right away, but it took him two months to work up the courage to talk to you?” Louis shrugs, then he slips his arm around Harry, and rubs his back. “Or maybe he’s lying. Maybe you’re that good in the sack, Harold.”

Harry snorts, elbowing Louis, but without much force. “Maybe I am. You’ll never know.”

“Maybe you are,” Louis says. He pushes the tip of Harry’s nose with his thumb, and laughs when Harry gnashes his teeth. “But I get the feeling that isn’t why he came back.”

“You don’t think I did the right thing?” Harry asks, desperate for reassurance. 

“I don’t know. But I…” Louis gently knocks his index finger against the underside of Harry’s chin. “I think you’re the type of guy someone would come back for.”

Hope blooms in Harry’s chest, and he closes his eyes. “I made a mistake.”

“Okay,” Louis says softly, smiling as he eyes the bedroom door. “So fix it.”

“Fix it,” Harry repeats, standing and wiping his hands on his pants. 

There’s no way to know where Sam parked, or if he’s already gone, but Harry runs out into the hall, slapping the button for the elevator. It has to come all the way up from the lobby, and Harry impatiently bounces on his toes until it arrives. He presses the button for the Ath floor, and repeatedly pushes ‘door close’ until they do just that. 

When they open again, Harry darts out through the lobby and onto the sidewalk. Instinct takes him to the right, and he’s nearing the end of the block when he realizes he’s going to have to make another choice: left, right, or straight ahead. The light is green, but Harry stops, torn. 

He looks up ahead, decision made. Sam's pacing back and forth on the sidewalk beside his truck. 

“Sam! Wait!” Sam turns at Harry’s voice and stops, arms hanging at his side as Harry sprints across the street, and up the sidewalk towards him, slowing to a walk a few feet away. “Hey, um…”

“You came after me.” Sam's eyes flicker back and forth, then settle on Harry’s face. 

“Yeah, I…” During his race to get here, Harry didn’t consider what to say, and he frowns, thinking. 

“Harry, I know you don’t believe me, but when we met… I’d just gotten out of a relationship that really screwed me up, and I—”

“I believe you.” Throwing his arms around Sam's neck, Harry pulls him into a kiss, and Sam bends down, wrapping Harry up in a hug while pressing soft lips against his, tasting his mouth again.

Dating Sam is different, yet familiar, and they easily fall into a routine. It’s perfect, really. When Harry works, Sam will come up to the bar before closing, and they’ll spend the night at the loft, and when Harry’s off, they stay at Sam's place. Some nights, Sam has to be at the hospital, and if Harry doesn’t have anything else to do, he’ll go to bed alone after staying up late watching back to back romcoms. 

Something seems to shift with Louis and Dominic. The only thing Harry interrupts is a make out session. They aren’t tame by any means, but they’re together more often, and not just for sex. Harry would say they’re dating, but when he did say that, Louis made sure to correct him. 

“We’re just having fun,” Louis said, and going against everything Harry's learned about him in the almost year they’ve lived together, Louis insisted, “And we’re not exclusive.”

All Harry could say was, “Okay.” And he’s left it at that. 

Because of their jobs, Harry and Sam don’t see each other much more than they did before. It makes Harry miss teaching more than he already did, but at the same time, he’s happy with the way things are. There’s no reason to rock the boat.

“Hey, babe?” Midthrust, Sam grabs hold of Harry’s hair and pulls his head back, dicking in deep. Grinding against his ass, Sam leans over to kiss the back of Harry’s shoulder, and says, “Let’s go away for a few days. My boss has a cabin.”

Sitting hard on Sam's cock when he draws his hips back, Harry comes, spilling over his hand as he pictures them in a perfect little cabin in the woods where he’ll definitely pretend they’re living together. “Yes! Fuck, yes!”

Maybe Harry’s a little domestic when he’s in a relationship. Maybe.

“‘Domestic when you’re in a relationship’.” Air quotes and an eye roll, and Louis says, “You mean it gets worse?”

“Shut up.” Eyebrows raised, Harry holds up two magnum bottles of rosé, one in each hand. He fits them on either end of his large cooler bag, and figuring he’ll try one more time to convince Louis to join them, says, “I don’t understand why you won’t come. Two days in the mountains, and it’s not like it’s far. If you hate it, go home.”

“Why are you inviting me anyway? I thought this was supposed to be a romantic getaway.” Louis grinds against the refrigerator, and says, “You and Doctor Sam all alone in the woods… Unless. Are you worried he’s going to murder you?”

“No.” Harry smacks Louis’ bum hard, and he yelps, spinning around and swatting at Harry with both hands. They devolve into a slapping fight until Harry catches Louis in the balls, and he calls a truce. “I’m just nervous. I want this weekend to be perfect. I need it to be perfect.”

“Lower your expectations,” Louis sings, swinging his arms. “Look, Harold, Dominic and I aren’t… off to the cabin romantic getaway type people,” Louis says, and Harry oh so slowly rolls his eyes. 

“If you say so.” Harry zips up his cooler bag, carries it over and sets it on the couch, checking his list on the way to his room. “I’ve always been a free cabin type person.”

“It’s free?” Louis asks, squeezing past him to his room. Harry leans in through his doorway, watching him grab a duffle bag from under his desk and dump it out on the floor. “I’ll call Dominic. Be ready in like, five minutes.”

“I’ll text you the address,” Harry says, picking up his already packed bag from his bed. Sam's waiting downstairs, and a couple of hours in a car with him is very different from a road trip with Louis and Dominic in the back seat.

“I brought games, and books, and wine,” Harry says, waving vaguely at the back seat of Sam's truck. “What else could we need?”

“I brought condoms, lube, and those baby wipes you like,” Sam says, gently stroking Harry's cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

“Sounds like the perfect weekend.” Grinning, Harry grabs his travel mug from the cupholder, and sips his coffee. “Oh! I also brought coffee.”

Sam turns down a wooded road, and admits, “I’m a little surprised you invited Louis and Dominic, to be honest.”

“Did you not… Was I not supposed to?” Harry sets his coffee down, turning in his seat as much as he can with the seatbelt on. “You asked if any of my friends…”

“No, babe, it’s fine! Promise. I just… For some reason, when I said invite another couple, I assumed you’d ask Zayn and Robby.”

“Oh…” Closing his eyes, Harry slowly nods, sitting back in his seat. When Sam suggested he ask another couple to join them, Harry thought of Louis and Dominic, and hadn’t considered inviting Zayn and Robby. Things between them have been kind of rocky lately, and he didn't want to watch Zayn and Robby argue for two days. He clears his throat, and says, “Zayn and Robby couldn’t come.”

“No big deal, babe,” Sam says, smiling over at him. He pulls into a driveway, parking in front of a rustic A-frame cabin. “We’re here.”

“It’s so romantic.” Harry climbs out of the truck and looks around, shading his eyes with his hand. 

The cabin isn’t in the middle of nowhere, but it feels like it is. It’s surrounded by trees and brush thick enough to block the view of any neighboring houses, with a fire pit outside surrounded by adirondack chairs, and a jacuzzi that Harry's definitely not going to use. They always seem so germy. 

Everything they brought is easily hauled inside in two trips. The large bedroom upstairs is cozy and cute with a queen sized bed, an attached bathroom that also opens to the hall, and two large windows. A smaller bedroom across the hall has two twin beds which Louis and Dominic can push together. 

They’ve just finished unpacking the food when there’s an unmistakable roar of a motorcycle. Harry and Sam step out onto the porch as Dominic cuts the engine of his bike, and Louis hops off the back. 

“Welcome, campers!” Harry announces, and Louis waves, jogging up the steps. 

“Free cabin!” Louis shouts, and Dominic whoops, following him across the porch and into the cabin.

“It’s my boss’ cabin,” Sam says as they pass by. 

“It’s so much cooler up here.” Harry rubs his bare arms, thinking of his soft yellow cardigan. 

“Supposed to drop into the low fifties tonight.” Reaching his arm around Harry's waist, Sam steers him back into the cabin. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”

When they walk inside, Harry stills, then immediately hurries through the cabin to the bedroom to grab his sweater. They’re not nearly as loud as he’s heard them before, but Louis and Dominic are definitely having sex, christening their room. Harry takes his cardigan, his coffee, and his book outside, and while Sam starts a fire in the pit, Harry reads, and thinks about whether they should play Scrabble or Monopoly first. 

It’s a few hours before anything goes wrong. 

“Was the fridge cold when we were putting everything away earlier?” Harry asks, holding up his room temperature bottle of rose. 

“Yeah, of course.” Sam takes the bottle from him, then ducks down to look inside the refrigerator. “Or… Maybe not. Maybe we just assumed it was cold?” 

“It’s definitely not,” Harry says, pulling out the cheese he brought. 

Louis flips the lightswitch on the wall by the fridge, but nothing appears to happen, so Harry tries the one by the door. Still, nothing happens. Sam pulls out his phone, and a moment later, he says, “My boss said sometimes the power just goes out. It shouldn’t be off the whole time we’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell you that before?” Harry asks. They could’ve brought any number of flashlights and lanterns. 

Dominic rattles the door under the stairs, and before Harry can think to say something, he’s popped the lock with his pocket knife. Normally, Harry would be opposed to breaking and entering, even if it’s just the owner’s closet, but Dominic finds enough battery-powered light sources for every room of the cabin, and the sun’s about to go down. 

“It’s rustic,” Harry says, turning on his flashlight and setting it on the fireplace mantle. 

“It’s boring,” Louis says, yawning without bothering to cover his mouth. 

“You can always leave.” Harry smiles sweetly, and goes back to the kitchen. 

“Look what else I found,” Dominic says, leaning into the closet. He pulls back with a bottle full of green liquid, setting it on the kitchen island, and because Liam likes it so much, Harry assumes it’s melon liquor. 

“Sweet.” Giggling at his own pun, Harry picks up the bottle, unscrews the top, and takes a swig, sputtering when it doesn’t taste like melon at all. “Eww… Licorice. What is this?”

The label is faded and peeling, and before Harry can decipher it, Louis grabs the bottle from his hand, sniffs it, and says, “So… You just drank absinthe.”

“No…” Harry snatches the bottle back, squinting at the label. 

“Yeah, you did,” Louis says. He tilts his head, standing close to Harry’s side while he studies the bottle. “Don’t worry, Harold. It’s a good brand. Basically just strong liquor.”

“I need something to wash the licorice taste out of my mouth,” Harry says, but then he picks up the bottle and takes another drink. “Might as well.”

“Indeed.” Louis takes the bottle from Harry and tips it back, swallowing at least as much as Harry did in one go. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he says, “No going back now.”

Harry pops open a can of seltzer, swishing some around in his mouth, and spitting it into the sink before chugging half the can. He belches loudly, and in his periphery, sees Louis hold up his hand. High-fiving him without looking, Harry barks a laugh, then picks up the bottle, and offers it to Sam. “Want some, babe?”

“Sure.” Sam takes the bottle, sniffing it and wrinkling his nose. “Bottoms up.”

“If you say so.” Dominic says with a smirk, and when Sam finishes drinking, he passes the bottle. 

Tequila is Harry’s liquor of choice when he wants something to sip slowly, and vodka is his go-to for cocktails. Both are eighty-proof, and according to Louis, this bottle of absinthe is almost twice that. The way Harry figures it, he had the equivalent of six shots of tequila in about thirty seconds. 

It’s a mellow drunk at first, but Harry hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and the absinthe gets the best of him pretty quickly. At least he’s not alone. Sam seems pretty messed up, too. 

“Doctor… Doctor Sam,” Harry says low and slow. 

“Paging Doctor me!” Sam giggles, sliding down in his chair. 

Harry points an accusing finger at Louis. “Are you ready for some Scrabble?”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis says, biting down on a smile. 

“Scrabble. Scrabble. Scrabble.” Stopping to listen to the echoing in his ears, Harry pouts at the ceiling, and a wave of nausea hits him. He wants to lay down, and tries to run for the stairs, but it’s more of a tripping walk.  “I’m gonna… check on my bed.”

“Tell it hello from me!” Sam calls after him. 

When Harry reaches the second floor, he goes straight past the bed to the bathroom, retching as he drops to his knees in front of the toilet. 

“Sounds like a real fun time,” Louis says, and Harry flips him off while puking. Once his stomach finishes evicting the absinthe, Harry gets to his feet with a groan, and flushes the toilet. “Harold, Harold, Harold.”

“That was terrible,” Harry tells his reflection. He bends down to rinse his mouth out, and when he stands back up, he says, “Never doing absinthe again.”

“Feel better?” Louis asks, jerking back when Harry burps in response. “In defense of absinthe, you aren’t supposed to chug it. It’s more of a sipping thing.”

“Did you need to puke, too?” Harry asks. 

“Nope. My alcohol tolerance worked in my favor. Sam's sort of glued to his chair, so I followed you up here. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thanks for looking out,” Harry says, giving Louis two thumbs up. When he crosses the room to the door, Louis gets up off the bed, and Harry stops with his hand on the doorknob. “Hey, Lou, um… I like Dominic. He’s cool. And I know you said you guys are just hooking up or whatever, but I think he really likes you.”

Louis hums, and Harry opens the door, leading the way to the stairs. He freezes on the top step, eyes wide. Like Louis said, Sam's in the chair, but he’s not alone. Dominic is in his lap, legs thrown over the arm of the chair, kissing Sam's neck while Sam mumbles, “I’m with Harry… Harrrrrrrrrrrrry. Harry.”

“Look, Louis.” Dominic tips his head back and laughs. “We switched!”

“What the fuck?” Harry whispers. When he turns to look behind him at Louis, his head spins, so Harry sits down on the top step. 

“I think— Hey, Dominic, um, get up, yeah?” Louis steps around Harry, jogging down the stairs. He takes Dominic’s hand, pulls him to his feet, and says, “Did you think I was— I went upstairs with Harry because I knew he was going to be sick. Not— Not for—”

“Oh…” Dominic nods slowly, smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright. My mistake.”

Using the railing for leverage, Harry stands, and carefully makes his way down the stairs. Mind still foggy, Harry searches for an appropriate response, but can only repeat, “What the fuck?”

“No big deal,” Dominic says with a shrug. 

“You tried to kiss my boyfriend.” A blush begins to bloom on Harry's cheeks at the word, and he glances at Sam, who’s moved from the chair to the floor. “It’s a very big deal.”

“I don’t—” Dominic shrugs again, lifting his arms out to the side. “Why else did we come to a cabin together?”

“To hang out?” Harry suggests, and Sam groans at his feet. Looking down, Harry pets Sam's head, and he leans against Harry's thigh. “I just can’t believe you’d do this to Louis.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Louis says, shaking his head. “He didn't do anything to me. We’re not together like that. He can do whatever he wants.”

“And you don’t care that he tried to kiss my boyfriend? I don’t think so, Louis.” Harry huffs, crossing his arms, and says, “This isn’t you.”

“This is me! I’m me, Harold!”

“You’re not the ‘cool guy’ with the open relationship or whatever you’re calling it,” Harry says, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“We’re not calling it anything!” Louis shouts.

“Oh… Wait. Haven't we been here before?” Harry scratches his chin as he pretends to think. “Dylan?”

“Why are you bringing up Dylan?” Louis clenches his jaw, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Because it's the same thing! I know you, Louis. You’re not this guy with no labels or no strings or whatever. You’re not.”

“Oh, yeah? You think you know me? Well, at least I’m not pretending to be in some perfect relationship. At least we aren’t pretending to be a perfect couple when we’re not.”

Gritting his teeth, Harry says, “I’m not pretending to be anything.”

“Right. Okay. The only reason you even invited us is because you didn't want to be alone with Doctor Sam.” Louis looks down at Sam on the floor, lifts an eyebrow, and says, “We’re your buffer, Harry, because you’re afraid to be real with your boyfriend.”

“Is that true?” Sam asks, looking up at him from the floor, breath hot against Harry's leg. 

“Yes. No. It’s not really… It’s out of context,” Harry explains, turning to Louis. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“You think you know everything about me, Harry, and you don’t. I’m a cool guy. Like, really cool,” Louis says. 

“Sure you are.” Lips pressed tightly together, Harry nods, and Louis picks up the bottle of absinthe from the kitchen table.

“You don’t think so? I’m cool enough to do this.” Louis brings the bottle to his lips, tips it back, and chugs.

“Holy shit!” Dominic’s eyes grow wider the more Louis drinks, and he says, “Pace yourself, man. Chill.”

Louis slams the bottle down on the table and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “Fuck…”

Groaning, Sam clambers to his feet, runs to the front door, opens it, and throws up off the side of the porch. That sobers Harry up a little more, and he walks outside, rubbing Sam's back until he’s finished. They go upstairs to clean themselves up, and then they set the table with the food they brought that doesn’t need cooking, ignoring Louis’ muttering and occasional shout from the couch. 

“Absinthe!” Louis yells, rolling off the couch onto the floor. 

“Dinner’s… ready, I guess,” Harry says as he pulls out a chair for Sam. He sits beside him, and Dominic takes the seat across from Sam, but Louis pushes the armchair over from the living room and sprawls in it at the head of the table. 

It’s mostly cheese and crackers, with some sliced fruit, and glasses of water for everyone. Dominic pointedly ignores his water, and drinks a beer instead. 

“Sam, can you pass the gouda?” Dominic asks, pointing to the cubes of cheese on the tray in front of Sam. 

“Yeah,” Sam says, picking up the tray which Harry immediately takes from him.

“No, I’ll pass it to you.” Harry smiles, mouth closed, and passes the tray to Dominic, then pulls it back before he can grab it. He does it again, extending the tray towards Dominic, and taking it back at the last second.

Dominic huffs, and asks, “What are you doing?” 

“My bad,” Harry says, “I thought you and the gouda had a thing. An open relationship.”

“I said I was sorry!” Dominic leans back in his chair, looking to Louis, then rolling his eyes when Louis is busy staring back through a tiny hole in his cracker. “I thought that was why we came up here. I thought you guys were into… I don’t know.”

“You look so tiny this way!” Louis squints at his cracker, then pops it into his mouth, crumbs spraying as he says, “Absinthe! God… I like the cabin. I like it. Like it. Like it. Like it.” Turning towards Harry, he says, “I like beer. I like beer more than wine. Don’t like your pink wine, Harold.” Opening his mouth wide, Louis stretches his jaw, and growls. “I like spiders but Niall hates them. I once got attacked by a seagull and they still freak me out to this day. I like sweatpants. Best pants. I don’t like belts, but I wear ’em sometimes.” With a big sigh, Louis slumps in his chair, and turns towards Dominic. “I don’t like that you tried to kiss Sam. Because I like you.”

“I… I didn't know,” Dominic says, rolling his lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not…” Louis rubs his hands over his face. “I know we said it was open. I know. But I…” Trailing off, he picks up a piece of Manchego, studying it. 

“Hey, man,” Harry says, poking Louis’ piece of cheese. He waits until Louis looks at him, then gives him a thumbs up and a smile. 

They finish their cobbled together dinner in uncomfortable silence, and then they leave everything out to deal with in the morning. Harry's too tired to worry about doing dishes in the dark. He takes Sam by the hand and leads him upstairs to their room where they brush their teeth very well. After Harry puts on a pair of pajamas, he feels a lot better. 

So much for cabin in the woods sex, though. Harry isn’t at all in the mood, and Sam doesn’t seem to be either. He rolls onto his side to face Harry, and says, “What Louis said… about not wanting to be alone with me…”

“That’s not…” Harry squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. I was just nervous. And this… I guess things couldn’t have gone more wrong. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Nah… It’s alright,” Sam says, tapping Harry's nose with the tip of his finger. “We’re not perfect. The first time we slept together, I didn't even know your name, so…”

“That’s true.” Harry smiles, hiding his face in the pillow, and Sam cradles his cheek, rubbing his thumb over Harry's cheekbone.

“And… I think the important thing to pay attention to here is how I handled myself with Dominic. He’s, like, super hot, and I was super fucked up, and I didn't kiss him. I said no to him because I’m with you.”

Harry scrunches his nose, and lifts his chin, kissing the pad of Sam's finger. “You’re right. That’s pretty important. And he is super hot.”

Mouth stretching into a yawn, Sam turns his head, covering his face with both hands. “I’m so tired.”

“I’m tired, too. And… There’s no rule that you have to have sex when you go away to a cabin in the woods, so… we should sleep.” Harry chuckles, rolling onto his stomach. He wiggles around until he gets comfortable, and turns his head to say goodnight, but Sam's already asleep, eyes closed, mouth open, snoring quietly.

When Harry wakes up in the morning, he doesn’t feel hungover at all. He just feels disgusting, and with no hot water, he’s not taking a shower anytime soon. With no power, he isn’t having coffee either, but he heads downstairs anyway. 

“Good news and bad news,” Sam says, holding up his phone and smiling when Harry walks into the kitchen. 

“What’s the bad news?” Harry asks, bracing himself for a broken down truck to trap them there indefinitely. 

“Bad news is, my boss asked us to clean out the fridge since the power’s been off, and we’ll have to haul the trash away because there’s no garbage pickup out here,” Sam says, picking up the already full garbage bag from the floor. “Good news is, the power should be back on within the hour, so we—”

“Morning,” Louis says from the landing at the top of the stairs, stretching his arms overhead. He jogs downstairs, and walks over to the kitchen table, knocking the wood with his knuckles. “I have an announcement to make.”

“Okay…” Harry glances at Sam, and Louis sighs. 

“Dominic left.” Louis claps, then raises his eyebrows, and says, “To be clear, he, um, he left me. Took his motorcycle, and my phone charger.”

Frowning, Harry shakes his head, moving closer. “I’m so sorry, Lou.” 

Louis takes a step back. “No hugs, Harold.”

“That sucks, man,” Sam says. 

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not great news, but…” Louis tips his head side to side, and says, “I do kind of need a ride home.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam says. He picks up the bag of trash, and starts towards the front door. “I’m going to put this in the back of my truck. We can leave whenever you want, Louis.”

After the door shuts behind Sam, Harry tries again to hug Louis, and this time he allows it, but only for a moment. Harry tightens his hold around Louis’ shoulders when he tries to push him away, and they wind up in a shoving match. When Harry trips over one of the legs of the kitchen table and almost falls on his ass, they call a truce. 

“Sorry about making you take me back early,” Louis says. 

“I, um… I’m kind of done with cabins for a while. The power is supposed to be back on soon, but I don’t care,” Harry says with a short laugh. Pointing at the stairs, he makes a decision he hopes Sam won’t be bothered by. “I’m actually going to run and pack real quick so we can just go, if that’s okay.”

“Ready when you are, Harold.” 

Harry hurries upstairs. It doesn’t take much to pack his bag, and Sam comes up before he’s finished checking under the bed. 

He leans against the door jamb, and says, “I was thinking we could come back after we take Louis home. The power should be on by then. We can make it a proper night in a cabin in the woods.”

“Oh…” Harry wipes his dusty hands on his jeans, and looks around the room. “If the power’s on, maybe? Not sure I’ll feel like making the trip back and forth like that. And, um…”

“What?” Sam steps into the room, reaching for Harry, and rubbing his arms. 

“Louis,” Harry says, twisting his lips and biting the inside of his cheek while he thinks. “He’s good at pretending, you know, that he’s fine. But he’s not. And I think I should probably be there for him. Like, at the loft.” 

Furrowing his brow, Sam nods, and says, “Okay.”

He releases his hold on Harry, bends down to pick up his bag, tossing it on the bed, and Harry explains, “It’s just, um… Louis was really there for me when you, um… when we…” 

“Oh. Yeah, I get it,” Sam says. He moves a little closer, resting his hands on Harry’s hips, and pulls him into a quick kiss. “You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks.” Harry grins, lifting up on his toes and throwing his arms around Sam's neck, kissing him again, deeper this time, until Sam slides his hands down and digs his fingers into Harry’s ass. Panting, Harry breaks the kiss. “Get your stuff together. I’ll check the other bedroom, and make sure everything’s cleaned up downstairs.”

The ride home is quiet, and Louis pretends to sleep even though he’s stuck in the tiny backseat of Sam's truck. Harry lets him fake it. And he tries to tone down the couple stuff, but Sam insists on driving with his hand cupped around the back of Harry’s neck. It feels good, warm and steady and a little proprietary, which Harry revels in, though he doesn’t like saying it out loud. He loves the feeling of belonging with someone, and while the relationship with Sam is new, they were sleeping together for so long before that it seems more settled. 

Sam pulls up in front of the building, and Harry lets Louis out of the truck before climbing back in to kiss Sam goodbye. 

“Text me later,” Sam says, pressing another kiss to Harry’s waiting lips. 

Harry grins, lip curling because that’s what they used to say. “I’ll text you.”

“Go on.” Pointing over Harry’s shoulder, Sam says, “Louis’s waiting. Hope he’s not too broken up about Dominic.”

“Yeah… I don’t know.” Harry crawls back out of the truck, blushing when he realizes he was practically in Sam's lap. He blows a kiss, closes the door, and waves, turning to catch up with Louis. 

Harry doesn’t bother Louis about Dominic in the elevator. He waits until they’ve both showered, and he’s thrown together some sandwiches with salt and vinegar chips for lunch before he knocks on Louis’ bedroom door. 

“What, Harold?” Louis calls, and Harry opens the door, pouting. 

“How’d you know it was me?” Harry asks. He walks over beside the bed, looking down at Louis who’s sprawled on his back in his threadbare grey sweatpants. 

“Besides the fact that Niall’s at work and I can hear Liam snoring through the wall?” Rubbing his tired eyes with his knuckles, smirk tugging at his lips even as he stifles a yawn, Louis says, “You have a very distinctive knock.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s always knock, tiny pause, knock-knock,” Louis says while rapping his fist against the wall behind his bed. 

“Weird.” Harry points back towards the living room, and says, “I made lunch.”

“For me?” Louis asks, already sitting up. 

“For both of us,” Harry says, turning to leave now that he’s sure Louis will follow. He takes his usual seat on the sofa, sitting cross-legged with his plate in his lap. “How are you doing, um… post-Dominic?”

When Louis sees the cold beer on the coffee table, he grins, then drops onto the couch with a sigh, and pulls his feet up, leaning against the arm. “I’m okay. Like, I don’t know. I wasn’t in love with him or anything. And it’s not like I’d want to be with him if he doesn’t want to be with me. I just… I wish he hadn’t left like that. It’s embarrassing.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Harry says softly, reaching over to touch Louis’ arm, but Louis jerks away. 

“This is why. Because now you feel sorry for me,” Louis says. “I don’t want that. That’s embarrassing.”

“Okay, then. I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“Simple as that?”

“Why not?” Harry shrugs, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“Sure.” Louis rolls his eyes, and Harry throws a chip at him. 

“If you can decide that you don’t want to be with Dominic because he doesn’t want to be with you, I can decide not to feel sorry for you,” Harry says, not that he actually has that kind of control over his emotions. “That seems like a big deal for you, though. Not how things were with Cash.”

“Look at me growing up.” Louis laughs, raising his eyebrows and throwing a chip back at Harry. He chews on his lower lip, brow furrowing as he says, “I… I don’t want to waste my time. That’s all. I think about Cash and the years I spent with him, and then afterwards, just pining like an idiot, and I wonder, like, what if I already met someone else—someone better, someone perfect for me—but I was too caught up thinking about him?”

“Do you think there’s someone perfect for you?” Harry asks, and Louis tips his head side to side. “Like… Do you believe in fate?”

Louis stuffs a few chips in his mouth, washing them down with his beer. “Probably not. It’s a nice thought. Like, meant to be and all that. But it’s not realistic.”

“Louis Tomlinson the realist,” Harry says, dodging another chip. “I don’t believe in fate. I believe people can have amazing chemistry together even if things don’t work out. But I think relationships take effort. And relying on fate or destiny or whatever is stupid when you could just… talk.”

“Talking.” Louis huffs a single laugh. “The key.”

“Make fun all you want, Lewis. Things have only gotten better with Sam since we started being open and honest with each other,” Harry says, holding a hand up to stop Louis before he can start. “And yes we did talk about me dragging you guys along to the cabin.”

“Oh?” Louis looks impressed, and Harry can’t help but preen a little. 

“We did. And… It was great, actually.” Harry purses his lips, scratching his chin with his thumbnail. “I know I don’t have a lot of experience, like… a range of experience, I guess? Spencer was my only real relationship, and he talked a lot about his feelings on… everything. But never about us.”

“That’s great, Harold,” Louis says. He reaches over to pat Harry’s thigh, and smiles. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, instantly regretting the direction the conversation has taken when Louis’ smile disappears and he turns away. Changing the subject to something he hopes is less likely to upset Louis, Harry asks, “Hey, so… How’s your book going?”

“Z is for Zombie is officially abandoned,” Louis says. “I started outlining my detective novel. Haven’t written much, but it’s like, I’m trying to do it right. Plan it out. Make it good.”

“Does it have a title?” Harry asks, unable to contain his excitement. 

Louis shakes his head. “I have a main character: Julius Pepperwood, private investigator. But that’s all I’m saying for now.”

“Oh, that’s all you’re saying?” 

“Yeah, the rest is a secret,” Louis says, and Harry narrows his eyes. 

“I’ll let you have your little secret for now, Tomlinson,” Harry says, leaning back into the couch cushion. “But I’ll check back in.”

“Whatever you say, Harold.”

“Exactly.” Harry reaches for the remote, turning on the television and starting the DVD. “But for now, it’s Dirty Dancing time.”

“No lifts.”

“Yes, lifts!” Harry taps Louis’ beer bottle and says, “Drink up. I’m going to lift you this time.”