this was supposed to be like, 2k of harry and louis smoking pot and shotgunning and somehow it wound up being almost 5000 words. WTF.
thanks to brooklinegirl for the help when I was stuck and the awesome beta! this is for drunktuesdays who not only lets me shriek at her in email but also shrieks back and LOTS of times the things she shrieks about are AWESOME. (such as the email I got titled HARRY: HIGH AS BALLS) and, well, then I wrote it :D
hope you like it, lady!
title - come on, baby
pairing - harry/louis
word count - 4900
rating - r
warnings - pot smoking! shotgunning!
come on, baby
When the idea comes to him, it's so brilliant Louis can't believe he hasn't thought of it sooner.
“Harry.” Louis jumps on the couch and repeatedly knocks his head into Harry's shoulder. “Harry. Harry. Harry.”
Harry barely glances up from his phone. “What?”
“You know what we should do?”
“No,” Harry says. “What?” But he’s not paying Louis any attention, still on with his damn phone and that won’t do. Not with the amazing idea Louis has had and all.
Louis rolls his eyes. Plucks the phone from Harry's hands and waits till the grabbing and flailing stops after he shoves it down the front of his trousers, (fuck you very much, Harry), then says: “We should smoke.”
“What? Ew. No. That's gross. I have enough of Zayn’s smoke every day, thanks.” Harry makes a move toward Louis’ pants but Louis slaps his hands away. Shakes his head.
“Not like that, you twat.” He waits until Harry looks up at him, then pinches the tips his fingers together and pretends to suck air. “Like this, smoke. Fun smoke, yeah?”
“Like this smoke?” Harry mimics him, but he's chuckling a little when he does it so Louis doesn't mind. Not really. Harry shrugs and grabs at Louis’ dick again for his phone. “So what, you want me to try and find something for us?” he finally says.
Louis pulls a face. “Harry. You wound me.” He gets Harry’s phone out of his trousers and then pulls a little baggie of pre-rolled joints from his front pocket. He tosses the phone in Harry’s lap and Harry picks it up gingerly between two fingers and wipes it on the thigh of his jeans.
“My phone has bollock sweat on it, you fucking prat,” he mumbles, but then he looks up, catches Louis’ eye and the way he’s waggling his eyebrows as he shakes the baggie around. “What, tonight?”
“There’s no time like the present, young Harry,” Louis says and settles more comfortably on the couch at Harry’s side. “We have a night off. I was able to discreetly get something for us from one of the tech guys.” Harry snorts at that and Louis shoves him. “Oi! What! I can be discreet! Anyway, I got us something and we’re both here, with nothing pressing to do. So…what do you say?”
Harry laughs wide and bright. “I’ve never been known to say no to anything yet, Tommo. Let’s have at it.”
And that, pretty much, is that.
It takes a few minutes to get themselves settled after that. Harry insists on taking his shoes off and sitting cross-legged across from Louis on the bed instead of the couch, though Louis has no idea why. Then they realize they don’t have anything to light it with, which leads to an argument on whether they should ring Zayn and ask to borrow his lighter. (Harry says Yes, of course, why can’t they, after all it’s just a bloody lighter? While Louis argues that No, they can’t do that, Christ, what are they supposed to tell Zayn, that the two of them had just decided to light a joint while Zayn and Niall had a lie down and Liam was doing a Twitcam? Really, Harry, Jesus.)
In the end they ring room service for some sandwiches and ask them to bring up a book of matches with it, which they do. So. Problem solved. Finally they are sitting. Settled and ready, laughing nervously across from each other, the joint hanging loosely from between Harry’s fingers.
“All right, mate, cheers,” Harry says, and yanks a match out. He strikes it across the back of the book and the tip bursts into flame.
Louis watches as Harry touches the match to the joint, the end sparking and crackling quietly. The pit of his stomach is twisted in knots. He’s not nervous, really, just…excited. This is fun. Something he and Harry have never done together before, and things like that always shoot a thrill though Louis, getting to share something, make something new happen between the two of them.
Harry takes a long drag, then holds his breath, his face pinking up and eyes watering a little. He coughs once and holds the joint out to Louis. “Here,” he says, and a long stream of smoke passes through his lips.
Louis takes it carefully and turns it around in his fingers a few times. Harry’s watching him and Louis doesn’t know why but he feels almost like he doesn’t want to mess this up somehow, which is stupid. He finally puts the joint between his lips and inhales.
It’s strange, more than anything. He can feel the smoke pass under his fingers as he holds it between his lips. It tastes sweet, a little. Kind of strong. If Louis had ever thought of mixing flowers and whiskey together and smoking them he’s pretty sure it would have a similar flavor, and like the other few times he’s tried this, it’s weird, more than anything else.
He holds his breath when he’s done and passes the joint back to Harry.
“Your first time?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head, turning to the side to blow the smoke out, his chest rattling with a cough.
“Nah. Me and Stan did once or twice, back home.”
Harry’s rustling around on the bed, shoving his back up to the headboard and kicking his legs out in front of him. Louis moves along with him and he still feels fine. Nothing strange or special. It’s a little disappointing. “I think we had really bum stuff though. Never felt a thing.”
Harry nods. “Yeah,” he says, and he’s smoking again, holding his breath before blowing the smoke out a second time. “I did a few times with my band but it was never anything special either. S’what happens when you leave Will in charge of something.”
Louis laughs at that. Goes to take the joint back where Harry’s passing it to him, and whoa. That’s…strange. He just felt a little something. A kind of shift of the room, if you will.
He shrugs and takes another long hit.
They pass the joint back and forth until it’s too small to hold between their fingers without burning, and then Harry leans toward the side table to grab his bottle of soda and Louis hears him laugh quietly.
“Whoa,” Harry mumbles. “That’s…” he almost giggles a little then, and says, “That’s actually kind of nice, right, Lou?”
And Louis would answer him, he really would, but he’s so fascinated with watching Harry he can’t remember how to speak very well. Harry is still leaning over, trying to get to the table, and then he reaches…reaches…reaches…and yeah! Yes! He’s got the bottle. He’s opening it now and dropping the piece of the joint inside, swirling it around and recapping it, and that--
He must start laughing, because the next thing he knows Harry has an arm around Louis’ waist and is dragging him back with him on the bed. “What?” Harry says. His breath is sticky sweet next to Louis’ ear.
Louis lets himself fall back, his head against Harry’s shoulder and chest and it’s… nice. Comfy.
“Nothing. It was just…” Louis rolls his hand in the air gesturing toward the bottle sitting back on the side table. “That was pretty cool, what you did before.” He means what Harry did with the bottle, but his mouth feels funny and the whole room seems to be pulsing. Harry is kind of staring down at him, his arm under Louis’ head, but he smiles, slow and lazy and doesn’t seem to mind that Louis isn’t making much sense at all right now.
“You feelin’ all right?” Harry asks. Louis blinks. He can hear Harry talking but it seems so far away. He kind of wishes Harry was closer, like somewhere next to him or behind him or—
“Oh. You are right behind me!” Louis says happily, and snuggles closer into Harry’s side.
Harry cracks up at that. Huge belly laughs that shake his whole frame, and he says, “Are you having talks inside your own head, mate?”
Louis thinks back. Or, he tries to at least, and yeah, yep. “I think so,” he says and nods. “This is…this is much better stuff than Stan used to get. Aces, tech guy whose name I can’t be buggered to remember right now!” He lifts his arm as high as he can and waits until he feels Harry’s knuckles brush against his in a lame sort of fist-bump.
They’re both quiet for a second after that, and Louis thinks it’s nice. As much as he loves talking to Harry and joking around with him he appreciates how he can be quiet with Harry if he wants as well. (Not that Louis has ever really wanted to be quiet, but still. It’s nice to know the option is there.) He pushes back and looks up over his shoulder to say something to Harry (he has no idea what, truth be told) but Harry is looking down at that moment, his face a lot closer to Louis’ then he’d thought it was going to be and oh.
Harry is sort of ridiculously pretty. It’s not like this is news to Louis, really. He always appreciates Harry’s body and face and hair in kind of an objective way. Like, he can understand why people fall all over Harry and think he’s the best looking one of the group, because, well, Harry is, at least as far as Louis is concerned, but this. This right here.
Harry’s hair is all mussed up from leaning back against the headboard, and his eyes…his eyes are a lot droopier than normal but not in an unattractive way. More like in the most attractive way Louis has ever seen. Bedroom eyes he thinks he’s heard people call it, and, huh. Thinking that – thinking about a bedroom (which they’re in) and Harry with his eyes and face and mouth my god, why has Louis never really noticed his mouth before tonight? – well, let’s say Louis has never really thought about the two of them in a bedroom quite like this before.
“Mmmm.” Harry picks right now, though, to bury his nose in Louis’ hair and the back of his neck, and breathe in deep. “Y’smell nice, Lou,” he says, his voice even slower and thicker than usual. “Is that, like, coconuts?”
Harry’s nose drags over Louis’ skin and Louis shivers. He shuffles around, pushes back so he isn’t leaning on Harry anymore but looking at him instead. That’s not much better, he realizes too late, because Harry’s mouth is close and red and wet. His shirt is rucked up from the waistband of his jeans and his legs are splayed wide open on the bed, and oh. Louis thinks he could probably fit right there, right in the vee between Harry’s thighs. He could maybe lean his head on Harry’s chest. Bite at his nipples through his t-shirt try and yank off that stupid, useless belt with his teeth if Harry would just—
“So, Lou,” Harry says, slowly, and Louis is thinking yes, yeah, okay. Whatever you say. I’m good. Let’s do it.
“You want to call for room service again? I’m starving.”
Well.Yes. Sure. Food. Definitely. Food would be good.
“Louis?” Harry repeats, and Louis realizes he’s done it again. Talking in his head when he thinks he’s talking out loud. He’s really going to beat the piss from Stan next time he sees him because nothing had ever prepared him for this.
“Yeah. That would be…” Louis trails off. Inches back when he realizes how close he’s gotten to Harry. “Food would be good,” he says again but this time out loud so Harry can actually hear him.
“Fantastic,” Harry says, and then they’re shuffling around on the bed again. Harry tries to climb over to grab the phone but Louis is still lying there, and then their arms get half-twisted together and their legs tangle and oh, bollocks, somehow Louis’ dick is pressing up against Harry’s thigh and ugh. That doesn’t need to be happening right now so Louis kind of lurches back nearly rolling off the bed and onto the floor.
“All right, mate?” Harry says sounding a little curious , but before Louis can even answer Harry finds the menu and the phone and shouts, “Aha! Triumph!” He flips the menu around and stares at it blankly for a second, then tosses it on the floor and dials the front desk. He orders them some more food and chips, and his voice is so slow. Thick and quiet, and Louis thinks about how it would sound if Harry talked like that but right into Louis’ ear. How it would feel to have Harry’s lips against his skin there, his breath tickling along Louis’ neck and cheek, and his hands maybe--
“Ugggggggggggh.” Louis can hear himself moaning, but when Harry asks him what’s wrong he buries his face in the pillows and shakes his head back and forth. He can hear Harry laughing at him but Louis stays where he is because if he’s not looking at Harry he can ignore how horny this pot has made him and how sexy Harry looks right now and, Oi. No.
The food gets there, which is a welcome distraction for Louis. Harry gets up to sign for it and Louis escapes to the loo for a minute to try and figure out what’s happened to his life in the past hour. He takes a piss and is standing at the sink washing his hands when he chances a look up in the mirror and oh. Uhm. That’s not good. Louis has spent many a time checking himself out in the mirror and this right here, this is one of his very best morning after looks if he does say so himself.
Which makes no sense. He didn’t actually shag Harry, and he’s a little disturbed that it looks so much like he did. If he’s going to look like that he should have at least had the fun to go along with it.
Louis takes a second to splash some water on his face. He straightens his hair the best he can and when he goes back into the room Harry is tearing through a burger and chips like he hasn’t eaten in a week. He shoves a tray toward Louis, and says around a mouthful of food, “So, I was thinking.”
Louis crosses his legs under him and picks at his plate. He’s not noticing the way Harry’s trousers are pulling too tight across his lap. Or the way his shirt is hanging too far to one side, giving Louis the tiniest peek of collarbone. Not noticing that at all.
“Thinking what?” and he makes a mistake of taking a sip of his drink when Harry says, “We should do that again tonight,” and Louis coughs and splutters all over the coverlet.
“Well, I’m barely feeling it anymore now, yeah?” Harry polishes off his burger and gestures toward Louis’ plate. Louis shoves it towards him. He has a feeling he’s not going to be eating much anyway. “And you did get a whole bag of joints from the techie—“
“I was confused! I didn’t know how many we were going to need!”
“I’m just saying, what’d you say before? It’s a night off. It was a good idea once, yeah? Why not do it again?”
Harry’s grinning at him, wide and bright. “Well, all right...” Louis hears himself say, and then sighs. He always did have a problem saying no to Harry.
They change into sleep pants and vests, and both use the loo to freshen up. Then they’re back sitting cross-legged on the bed facing each other, close enough that their knees touch. It’s almost a replay of where they were just a few hours ago, but this time, Louis is ready.
He’s just going to have one puff (all right, maybe two) but that’s it. If Harry wants to smoke he can but that – whatever happened to Louis before - probably shouldn’t happen again. The whole wanting to snog Harry, bury his face in Harry’s crotch thing. Louis is still a little confused by that, to be honest.
Harry lights the second joint from the bag and smiles around it slowly. He takes a hit and passes it to Louis who takes a small puff then blows it out. Harry’s still holding his breath and he frowns a little at Louis as he exhales.
“You do remember how this works, yeah?” Harry asks him. “It’s only been about an hour.”
“No, I remember. Sure.” Louis shrugs it off. Tries to act cool. “I’m good.”
Harry frowns and huffs as he takes the joint from Louis’ hand. Louis clucks his tongue a little. Looks up and down and all around the room. He can see Harry taking a really long drag from the corner of his eye, and oh, well, okay. Maybe Harry likes smoking a little more than he let on earlier. That’s fine. Louis is good with that. In fact, if he were thinking about it—
“Lou.” Harry’s voice is weirdly thick. Louis looks over to answer, but before he has a chance Harry curls his fingers around the back of Louis’ neck and pulls him in close, seals his mouth over Louis’ and exhales a mouthful of smoke past Louis’ lips.
Louis flails a little. His hands flap and he’s trying to pull Harry closer and push him away at the same time, he’s not sure. He wasn’t ready for that, and it makes his lungs fill up, his chest burns with how the smoke rips down his throat, and then he’s pushing Harry away, coughing and spewing smoke out of his mouth and nostrils and bloody frigging eyeballs it feels like.
“What the hell, Haz!” he says around a racking cough.
Harry grins, the cheeky bastard. “Shotgunning! I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Always wanted to try it.” Louis shakes his head. “Maybe give a little warning next time?”
“Nah,” Harry grins and shrugs. “Would ruin the surprise.”
“Your surprise nearly killed me dead, though, so maybe a head’s up would be good.” Louis takes a second to remember how to breathe, both from the smoke but more from the fact that Harry’s lips were just all over his, which. Well. Harry’s lips were just all over his.
“Eh.” Harry seems unimpressed with Louis’ reasoning and now that Louis is breathing a little better he does have to admit it wasn’t a completely bad idea that Harry had. He’s definitely…really stoned now. Maybe more than he was before, even, and oi, that makes his earlier problem even worse.
All Louis can think about now is the way it felt when Harry pressed his mouth against his. His lips and his fingers around the back of Louis’ neck. It’s enough to make Louis think insanely amazing, terrible, horrible, wonderful things and all of them are making him hard. Making him think things about what he wants to do with Harry and ugh. This is what he had been trying to avoid from happening again. Fucking bloody Harry Styles.
Louis chances a look at Harry, who’s staring intently at the joint he’s twirling in his fingers. He’s not looking at Louis, and Louis…
He licks his lips. His mouth feels dry and funny and Harry’s mouth looks so wet again. His lips and teeth and the way his long fingers keep spinning that silly joint around and around and around…
Harry looks up. Blinks slowly. “Yeah?”
Louis curls his fingers impatiently, gesturing for the joint. “Oh,” Harry says, slowly. “Sure, mate. Cheers.”
“Yeah, okay, I—“ Louis sits up, walks on his knees to where Harry is sitting on the bed, and takes a long drag himself. He holds it in. Counts to three, then looks right at Harry as he slides his hand into the back of Harry’s hair and pulls him in. Harry bites down on his bottom lip, and Louis flat out whimpers because Jesus, fuck, Harry’s possibly the hottest thing Louis has seen in real life.
“C’mon, Lou,” Harry says, and he’s watching Louis, fingers flexing on his thighs and Louis thinks, fuck it. He leans down and slots his mouth over Harry’s, blowing the smoke past his lips, into his mouth, and Harry whimpers high in his throat. Louis could scream with how good Harry feels under him. His mouth is soft and wet and Louis could probably die right now and be happy. Harry grabs onto Louis’ arms and pulls himself up, twisting his head away so he can blow the smoke out and okay, that’s fine, that’s what Louis was going for, really—
And then Harry kisses him and the top of Louis’ head nearly fucking explodes.
They fall over and Louis has a split second to think, shit! the joint! just as Harry grabs it from his fingers and stubs it out on the side table. Louis is pretty sure they’re gonna have to pay for that and he doesn’t much care, because Harry is kissing him – (Harry is kissing him)! – and even though it’s something he just started really thinking about tonight, it is actually the best thing Louis has thought of ever so he’s just going to go with it.
Harry is pulled right up close, his leg sliding between both of Louis’, and his hands are everywhere. Touching Louis’ face, skimming over his chest, tucking under the waist of Louis’ pants and Louis barely has time to think let alone realize what’s happening.
“What-what’s happening?” Louis splutters.
Harry just groans, pulls Louis even closer and rubs against him and Louis honestly doesn’t care what’s happening as long as Harry doesn’t stop.
“Ugh, I don’t know,” Harry pants. His fringe is hanging into his eyes and Louis reaches up to push it away. Harry tries to bite Louis’ thumb and Louis lets him. Presses down on Harry’s bottom lip, pushes it into his mouth and Harry sinks his teeth into the pad of Louis’ finger and growls. “I just need to get off,” Harry says and Louis’ head spins. “Get me off and then I’ll do you, yeah?”
And god - god - that sounds amazing. Brilliant. Harry is brilliant and Louis would tell him if he could stop kissing him long enough to make words. He licks into Harry’s mouth again, pants against his cheek and chin and says, “No. Just - together, all right?”
Harry rolls on top of him. Sinks his teeth into Louis’ throat and starts shoving their pants down, rushed and clumsy and Louis is so hard he could cry. He thinks he might when Harry’s fingers brush against him and he bucks his hips up, pressing their dicks together with Harry’s hand trapped between them and Harry grunts and Louis can’t stop touching him.
He grabs Harry’s hair. Yanks it so Harry’s mouth drags wet over Louis’ cheek and chin, deep in the hollow of his throat. He slides his hands up Harry’s shirt. Scratches his nails against Harry’s back, sinks his fingers into Harry’s hips and pulls him down, grinding against him. Louis thinks he might go crazy with it, how desperately he needs to come, how badly he wants to feel the space between them get slick and wet. He wants Harry to bite him. Keep rubbing his dick against Louis’ hip and belly and then when they’re done he wants to do it again. He wants Harry’s mouth on him. He wants Harry to hold him down, fuck him open with his fingers and tongue and then—
“Oh, bloody hell, Harry, I’m gonna—“
“Do it, you fucker—“ Harry grunts and that’s it. Louis can’t take it anymore. He grabs Harry’s shoulders, pushes up and Harry’s tightens his fist as Louis comes all over the both of them.
“I just. I. Shit, Hazza.”
“Oh my god, Lou.” Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, his fingers digging deep into Louis’ ribs. “Make me come, yeah? I need to--fuck,” he chokes off. Louis slips his hand between their bellies and he’s pulling Harry’s cock hard and fast. His hand stutters for a second because this is Harry - Harry - and it’s so crazy and amazing to see his own fingers curled around Harry’s cock, knowing he’s the one responsible for every one of Harry’s gasps and moans.
“Come on,” Louis breathes into Harry’s ear. He bites down on the side of Harry’s neck. Sucks hard enough to bruise and then bites him again. “Fucking do it, Haz. Lemme see,” and Harry shoves his hips down and makes the most wounded sound Louis has ever heard as he comes.
They lie there for a minute before Louis nudges Harry off so he can breathe. Harry moans a little and flops around on the bed. Louis manages to yank his shirt off to clean his hand and belly and then he passes it to Harry who does the same.
“I think I might actually be dead right now,” Harry says, really slow and quiet.
Louis snorts. “It’s quite possible.” He feels a smile trying to tug at the corners of his mouth and realizes he feels almost giddy with everything that’s happened tonight.
They’re quiet for a second, but Louis isn’t worried. He’s fairly certain that if there were any two people in the world who could manage to smoke two joints and then roll around in bed together without getting weird about it, it’s him and Harry. He’s proven right a second later when Harry pokes him in his side, and Louis turns to find Harry already grinning and scooting closer to him on the bed.
“So what now?” Harry says quietly.
Louis isn’t sure if Harry is asking about the two of them right now, or the two of them in general, but either way he’s sleepy and can’t think about much at all.
“Now we sleep.” He turns more onto his side and throws an arm over Harry’s waist. Harry grins and tugs the covers up, his head tucked close against Louis’ shoulder
“Sleep is good,” Harry mumbles, but Louis barely hears him, already drifting off.
They wake the next morning to Liam with his arms crossed at the foot of the bed, huffing.
“Rise and shine, lads,” he says, giving Louis’s leg a shove. “We need to be dressed and in the lobby in half an hour.”
Louis moans, loud and long. This is terrible. “They sent you in here because they’re fairly certain we won’t shoot you, right?” he groans. Louis thinks he has it all figured out. Smoking pot has made his smarter somehow. “Because you’re Liam? Because that’s a load of rubbish.”
“Whatever the reason, get your lazy arses out of bed,” Liam says. “It’s past time to get up.”
He’s so reasonable Louis wants to kill him, but he never gets the chance because Liam just shoves them around on the bed some more and then leaves, the door banging shut behind him. Louis holds his middle finger up but the door doesn't seem to care.
“Ugggggggggh,” Harry groans, somewhere from under Louis’ left armpit. Louis shifts around and sees dirty clothes and sheets and pillows tossed every which direction. Harry is half under Louis and lying sideways across the mattress, and when he opens his eyes he smiles slow, like moving too fast might hurt.
Louis wants to touch him, so he does. He full out grins, and leans over to chew on Harry’s stomach. Harry flails around laughing, and when Louis stops he slides his fingers into Louis’ hair and scratches his head.
“Oi, Hazza. You trying to kill me?” Louis says. Harry laughs against but doesn’t stop, just scratches slower, touches his fingertips to the shell of Louis’ ear and Louis shivers. “So, I was thinking,” Louis lifts his head and tries his best to sound casual. “We have another night off next Tuesday.”
Harry smiles. “We do.”
“So maybe, I mean, if you want—“ Louis flounders for a second which is stupid. This is Harry. He needs to stop being ridiculous. “I could talk to that tech again and see if he can help us out if we, you know. Maybe want to do that again.”
Harry is pulling a face and Louis thinks he might die if Harry’s going to be weird about this. “Well, I mean, you can do that if you want,” he says. “But…” Louis breath gets stuck in his chest. He might actually pass out. “I think we can skip the beginning part next time, yeah? Maybe get right to the good stuff.” Harry’s tone is light and cheeky but Louis knows him and can hear the thread of uncertainty underneath.
Louis tries to make sense of it, and when it all finally clicks and he takes in the way Harry’s looking at him, his thumb rubbing slow circles behind Louis’ ear, something bursts soft and warm in Louis’ chest.
“You know, Hazza,” Louis says, crawling up and kissing the side of Harry’s smile, “Sometimes we really do have the best ideas.”