Love’s Truest Language by summerwine

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn’t really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where’s your order forms, then?”

“I don’t want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

We can take the long way home by eleadore

“Fertile,” Louis says, and then laughs because it sounds stupid to say out loud. He hasn’t ever really thought of himself in those terms. Baby-making terms. It’s just one of those things his body can do, like exercise, or go without tea. Doesn’t mean he will.

or,

The band takes a break. Harry and Louis come together.

Little White Lies by xxSterre

“I lied when I got my job.

I told them I had a kid so I could leave early ‘to pick him up from day care’, to take him to doctors appointments and occasionally miss a day ‘when he’s sick’. Long story short – I’m in too deep. I didn’t think this through.

Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy aged 4 to 6 with curly hair who plays soccer, essentially he has to look like the stock photo in the frame on my desk. Also must be artistic as the macaroni noodle drawings I made seem a little advanced for someone his age. He also needs to respond to 'my Little Picasso’ as that’s what my spouse and I call him. Also I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of my spouse when dropping him off. His name is James, he’s named after his grandpa and he’s a defense attorney who often brings his work home.

You know what, just message me for the details, serious inquiries only. H.”

A Slight Stretch by xxSterre

Because once you start a little white lie, it’s really hard to forever escape it. For better or for worse, the truth will always find a way to catch up with you in the end.

Or - a short-story sequel to the short-story that is Little White Lies.

A Few Very Good Mistakes by louisandthealien

He almost wishes there were a better story.

“Fucked up pop star ends five day bender by wandering into a dive bar alone and passing out in public.”

That would’ve generated press, he thinks, and if there’s one thing that’s constantly on his mind (or more accurately, on the mind of everyone else around him) it’s that all press is good press, and good press is good press but bad press is great press.

Besides, he’s 25 and trying to do the whole transition from boyband to solo pop star. He’s pretty sure a press-fueled meltdown is, like, a right of passage.

The truth, alas, is a whole lot more boring.

—

Louis falls asleep in Harry’s bar. Harry takes him home to hang out.

“Harry! I’ll tell you what,” Louis exclaims, clapping his hands together. There’s a big grin on his face. “If both of us are still single by your thirtieth birthday, we’ll marry each other.”

Harry’s head snaps up, eyes widening. “What?” 

Louis freezes, muscles tensing up. This means just one thing. His memory suddenly brings him back to ten years ago, in a cheap bar downtown. Harry’s curls, Harry’s smell, and too much alcohol. A cry, a laugh, a kiss.

Louis swallows. The deadline for their deal is approaching.

This is what heaven and hell both look like. This is what dreams are made of. This is going to be Louis’ death and, well, it’s like in that old song, isn’t it?, the pleasure, the privilege will be his. He’s always known that, for everyone, death has a look, but he had never thought that, to him, it would come with Harry’s eyes.

Louis should leave now before it’s too late.

In that moment, Harry notices him and smiles, his dimples popping in the middle of his cheeks, waving his hand as a greeting, and Louis knows.

It’s already too late. And he’ll go down the abyss in silence.

“Harry! I’ll tell you what,” Louis exclaims, clapping his hands together. There’s a big grin on his face. “If both of us are still single by your thirtieth birthday, we’ll marry each other.”

Harry’s head snaps up, eyes widening. “What?” 

Louis freezes, muscles tensing up. This means just one thing. His memory suddenly brings him back to ten years ago, in a cheap bar downtown. Harry’s curls, Harry’s smell, and too much alcohol. A cry, a laugh, a kiss.

Louis swallows. The deadline for their deal is approaching.

This is what heaven and hell both look like. This is what dreams are made of. This is going to be Louis’ death and, well, it’s like in that old song, isn’t it?, the pleasure, the privilege will be his. He’s always known that, for everyone, death has a look, but he had never thought that, to him, it would come with Harry’s eyes.

Louis should leave now before it’s too late.

In that moment, Harry notices him and smiles, his dimples popping in the middle of his cheeks, waving his hand as a greeting, and Louis knows.

It’s already too late. And he’ll go down the abyss in silence.