Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Louis was sixteen when he was diagnosed with his anxiety disorder. His narcissistic mother couldn't grapple with a child who couldn't cope with life, so she immediately thrust him into therapy. A demanding onyx-eyed glare to health professionals that easily read, 'fix my kid'. She was a hard woman to please, always unhappy with methods and suggestions, which ultimately had Louis tossed between four different specialists. Louis wasn't hopeful for the fifth to last, but when they did, he exhaled. 

Dr. Lowd was his mother's last and final choice. She was a young Indian-American who said everything his mother wanted to hear, while having a totally different outlook inside their confidential sessions.

Her name was comical within all its perplexity because she was extremely soft-spoken. Louis thinks that's why they meshed incredibly well. Most of their sessions were silent meetings that happened every day, except weekends, at four-thirty. They'd sit cross-legged on her burnt orange shag rug she called Shaggy, eat a dozen donuts from Dunkin’ she’d bought, and chug bottles of Coke. They'd meditate to rainwater and press stickers into the scrapbook she'd made him as a coping mechanism. It was the calmest the rushing waters in his head had ever felt in his life.

Things seemed to be looking up, until they weren't looking up far enough for his mother. She'd shown up thirty minutes before the end of a session demanding answers on why he wasn't fixed yet.

"He's not broken!" Dr. Lowd hissed, "Anxiety isn't something you fix Martha, and the sooner you let Louis learn to love his disorder instead of trying to force him to push it in the dark, you'll be able to love him like he needs."

"I'm not paying you to fix this with love!" she replied, nose upturned as she pushed Louis behind her back. "I'm paying you to do a job. A job you're consistently showing me you aren't qualified for."

She allows a soft but deprecating laugh fall from her lips as she stares behind the brazen woman, and at the person who'll truly be missing out. "This has nothing to do with my qualifications, just my genuine care for my patient."

"Well, he's your patient no more."

He held back his building tears as she pulled him unwillingly out of the building. The growing need to scream and protest, held back only by the scrapbook stashed in the Jansport thumping at his back. The moments he shared with Dr. Lowd would stay with him forever because of that book, and he'd protect it with his life.

***

He spent the remainder of his high school experience guarding the safe keep gifted to him. Relying on it, and the secretly purchased stickers to keep his anxiety in order. It was his escape from the perfect bubble his mother kept them encased in. Until graduation morning came, and he couldn't guard the book any longer.

He'd slipped into his cap and gown, and was smoothing down the fine hairs tickling the tips of his ears. His attention was focused on his smiling reflection and not the scrapbook open on his mattress, the last designed page on full display.

His mother's abrupt entrance was nothing new, so as she bombarded his space with demands and requests, he continued his self-assessment. Until she was anchored at the foot of his bed, a frown ingrained across her red-painted lips. He didn't even bother gauging the rest of her reaction, his own eyes flitting down to the book he could see clearly in the mirror. The glittery Pride flags and symbols that he'd snuck and purchased behind her back, making his stomach plummet out. He willed his mind to ignore the razor teeth of dread sawing into his back.

He stared long and hard at her manicured hand flipping hazardously through the pages. He rushed after her as she held the book limply, his eyes forever trained on its glossy pages. All that staring made it easy to watch it burn in the fireplace. His reliance burned to, right along with the book. Ashes upon ashes left behind that ended up burying that love he'd grown for stickers—stickers that he'd leaned heavily on to ameliorate his anxiety.

His stickers didn't reemerge again until after his mother passed, which was not only wildly fucked up, but challenging for Louis to grasp. She'd run off the one person outside their family who’d been successful in helping him, and maliciously destroyed his one helpful routine that aided in his survival of the shitshow that was his life.

When she cut him off from the world at sixteen she became the only other human being capable of talking him down from the cliff of impending doom. So, at nineteen, when the harsh realities of adult life were beating him senseless, he finally let himself admit that she was a horrible mother. However, he could only disclose it in the darkness of his one-bedroom apartment when his racing thoughts would remind him of the missed opportunities for better coping mechanisms.

Because of her, he had to suffer through harmful and horrible habits. Like being stuck in public when a crawling thought would wiggle it's way like a slimy worm into his brain and nestle there to grow big and fat. The going would get tough, and he had no choice but to find solace in the incessant picking of his unhealed scabs, and the mauling of his raw, tomato red, nubs of his already bitten nails. It was in those late-night reminders that he cursed her name the most.

***

He'd been without his mother for six whole months when he met Kenny and Andy, and around that time, he'd already hit bottom and even started digging a hole. Most nights spent huddled in the booth of some rundown bar, knocking back shot after shot of something that not only burned and seared but expunged. The one thing that emptied his constant rolling mind and made his anxiety feel like a distant relative that only came around when he allowed.

He'd swallowed his fifth shot when they approached him. His shaky hands were slick with sweat as he gripped the edge of the table to help ease the spinning of the room. His warm tongue thick and heavy in his mouth as his head swayed.

"You alright, dude?" a lean-figure dreadhead with bright gray eyes asked. He was smiling one of those sympathetic smiles that sober Louis would've been bothered by.

"I'm actually better than ever." he'd mastered the art of drinking copious amounts of hard liquor, so their widened eyes at his unslurred speech made a blush fan across his warm face.

"You should probably call it quits," the other man advised. He was heavy set with an indurate face and caviling blue eyes. "You need a ride?"

"I rode the bus … I only live—" Louis suppressed the rising burp, cheeks extending as he eyed the rippling brown liquid in the small shot glass. "—a block away."

"We'll walk you home man." gray eyes insisted, "You shouldn't be walking alone."

They laughed when Louis' head fell in between nodding and shaking.

"Come on, you're trashed."

Louis rambled the entire way home; it was something only his boozed conscience could accomplish. They laughed at every random thought he muttered, let silence overcome them when he mentioned his deceased mother, and simultaneously patted his back when he openly cried about his loneliness.

They kept coming around after that night, and every night that followed, Louis found himself less and less drunk. His sobriety allowed him the opportunity to learn about his newfound friends. He learned that Andy’s been growing his dreads since he was ten and that Kenny's boyfriend, Ethan, is studying abroad in Australia. On the anniversary of his mom's passing, he stopped drinking altogether and finally confided in them about his anxiety disorder, briefly mentioning the stickers that once helped. It was nice to get it off his chest, and it was even better to have companions.

Then, during the first holiday season with Andy and Kenny, all those old memories of his muddied childhood washed to shore. A simple gesture confronted him with the images of the singed scrapbook that was now just black dust in the landfill of trash on the city outskirts.

They were gearing up for their first Christmas as new friends, and Louis was just happy to not be spending his birthday and the winter holiday alone. On his birthday, they came over around noon with Dunkin and gifts in their hands. They'd sat on his couch eating the holiday donuts and watched classic Christmas films with him.

Louis’ face could split in two from his happiness. And when the gift giving came around he was way to giddy and uncaring of what they'd got him. Their presence in his home was all he needed. That idea sufficed until he tore open the wrapping paper of their shared gift for him, and two notepads filled with glossy emblems sat in his hands. They rushed to tell him it wasn't meant with any malice when he'd been on the verge of tears, but as they stared at him with a shared understanding, the 'joke' would carry on for the next four years.

Every year they would give Louis a different set of stickers that varied significantly. A pamphlet filled with planets and galaxies to ones littered with varying types of trees. He managed to stop pitifully crying after the first year and instead laughed gleefully as he stuck an entire page worth on each one of their hairy calves.

Every year that passed, Louis would become more excited for the next. He'd pull the two men close and hold back his tears as he gazed at the colorful images embellishing the waxy paper. The pressing need to ask them to only gift him stickers always at the tip of his tongue. It was eager to tumble out and wrap itself around them in the tightest hug it could manage. He just wanted to ease it into the folds of their clothes so that they remembered he wanted all the stickers and nothing else.

Except his silent hope for only stickers wasn’t realized, because they eventually switched to other things. Andy started giving him gift cards to Dunkin, and Kenny settled on funny socks that were adorned in either goofy figures or quirky sayings. He was grateful, always grateful, but nothing would ever compare to the sheer joy and content he got from the surplus of pretty symbols.

See, those first few pads of stickers had him tumbling down a memory hole he'd filled a long time ago. Unpacking those moments had him reliving the hours spent huddled up in Dr. Lowd's office pasting stickers into his therapy book. That simple method evoked in him the groundbreaking truth that his anxiety is manageable and something he doesn't have to fear. It was the subtle remembrance of his past that he needed in order to feel comfortable indulging in the hobby once again. It was also an unfolding madness that he hated to admit he loved.

It was easy to buy the thin booklets, limiting himself to two and throwing in an extra one when he managed the entire week without an anxiety attack. It was the motivator he loved only because he made it his goal to stay free of an anxiety attack.

Saturday grocery runs ending with three notepads of his choice and building his collection so quickly that his apartment was ripping at the seams with stickers by the end of the year. Wherever he looked, whether it was the oatmeal carpet in his living room or the gray marble counters in his kitchen, stickers covered them. It was initially an eminent problem but was immediately mended by the holiday totes he bought for fifty percent off at Target.

Anytime he thought: maybe I can throw just a few away; nausea would deluge his insides, and the thundering storm of impending dread sat dormant in his mind. He was scolded by his conscience and reminded of the fatal doom that would arise if he tossed them out. The only remedy to soothe his restless mind at that point was going out and purchasing more stickers. Even summoning a simple thought that involved a life without his stickers again, meant a world he wouldn't survive in.

***

He presses a sticker onto the polished wood, mirthful sapphires fixated on the picture of a small llama wearing a red fedora. "Hmm." he rubs the pad of his thumb over it, "I think … you're in my top ten."

He kept his tone level with the feel in his quiet room, admiring the sticker now situated on the back of his bedroom door. It was his latest project, emblems that had his lower stomach thrumming with warmth and a fuzzy flutter settling in the grooves of his ribcage. It was the exact feeling he got when he ate a Boston crème donut. He slid his pointer finger down the image before stepping away to examine the, almost a year, progress.

"Louis Bluey!"

Louis eases out of his room with a soft smile kept mildly at bay. It fills out to his cheeks when he opens his front door to see Kenny and Andy crowding his entrance. Jovial smiles on their faces as they shuffled into his meager foyer. The door hadn't even been locked and shut adequately before they were transposing into his front room that was crowded with colorful bins overflowing with stickers. He'd forgotten all about his organizing attempt, his plan to store the different figurines into properly labeled containers abandoned. He blamed the llama in the red fedora, it had garnered all his attention with an unspoken demand to be put on his bedroom door.

He often came across a sticker that begged and pleaded to be put either on his door or in the small tin lunchboxes he carried with him out in public spaces. They were his coping stickers, special garnishments that he could use as a ladder out of his rabbit hole.

"Good god Louis, not this shit again." Kenny groaned. He pushed an overflowing bin with his foot, a few notepads falling to the carpet. "It's getting old."

"We've created a monster," Andy added spookily, right hand plunging down into a bin of individual stickers, the ones he collected from the gumball machines at his dentist office and neighborhood Walmart.

His giggle is airy, a peal of light laughter because he knows they're just joking. He knocks his glasses up and off the edge of his nose with his knuckle. "Give me a break. I'm giving them new homes."

"You need to throw them in the fucking trash—hell—give'em to a boys' and girls' club. All I know, right now, is that no perfectly sane and functional twenty-four-year-old has or needs these many damn stickers." Louis frowns because this doesn't sound like a lighthearted joke anymore, and Kenny instead sounds like an overbearing father figure that Louis doesn't need. "If you don't get this shit under control, I swear, I won't come back over here."

His eyes shoot to the kitchen bar top, one of his metal lunchboxes visible from his place on the floor. "I—they—no." Louis decides that's the ultimate answer, and there is no sense to beat around the bush about it. Kenny obviously doesn't like that response when his face bubbles up red, and he poises his mouth to shout some more. Louis doesn't understand the guilt fanning out in his chest.

"Ken, you bastard, leave him alone. Let us not forget your creepy obsession with Australian coins."

Kenny gives Andy an incredulous stare, "Coins that my boyfriend, who might I remind your inconsiderate ass is studying abroad, gives me." his steel blues brim with anger as he looks to the cluttered floor again. "This isn't due to a relationship. This is due to an overly dependent—never mind—I've gotta get the hell out of here, it's just so fucking … messy, ugh!"

Louis' eyes don't stray from the metal box perched on the high countertop, not when Kenny grumbles through his foyer or when he slams the apartment door. He keeps his eyes locked on the metal box to help settle that rising irrationality within him. He even slides a sweaty palm up onto the lid of a nearby tote and presses down hard.

"I don't want to give them away," eyes finally drifting from the lunchbox to a frowning Andy, "They make me happy, D." Louis' tone is convincing enough that Andy gives him a simple smirk.

It's as the lanky man gazes hard at the bins littering the small space that he becomes apprehensive again. "Lou-pie, it is a bit weird. That doesn't mean Ken isn't a dick because he is, and yes, he needs to take a chill pill. However, he—we—worry. Just think about all the money wasted right now in this room alone. Thousands of dollars on a hobby that isn't worth nearly as much time or energy you give it."

Louis pouts until Andy ruffles his soft locks and flicks gently at the glass of his chunky black frames. Instead of confronting the evident discontent he feels right now, he shuffles over to an open bin of notepads and pulls one out entitled summer fruits. "They're important." he mutters softly, finger dancing over a glossy yellow lemon before he smiles big and pulls it off, extending forward to press it against Andy's hairy calf. His smile travels up the looming body that is grinning down on him, "Makes others happy too."

"I know, I know, Lou-pie. I'm just suggesting you break free of the chains that spell out stickers are my life. The handling you have on your anxiety is exceptional, and I think that the dependency on the stickers is all in your head. Which makes me also think it's doing you more harm than good." he starts to back towards the exit, his eyes never wavering from Louis' crouched form. "Venturing out, even coming to have a drink or two at the old hangout, could help show you that these things aren't worth it. So, just think about it."

Louis can't watch the man leave, so he averts his eyes down at the sticker book still open in his lap. The door's click is his queue to rise from his place on the floor as slowly as he can. Louis doesn't want to fast, doesn't want his mind and body to think the worse, and skyrocket into an unsuspected downward spiral. The lightheaded feeling that began to build behind his eyes subsides the minute he places his palm against the cold metal of the lunchbox he'd been eyeing the entire stiff encounter.

He inhales, "One. Two. Three," whispered out on his exhale.

He loves his friends, or at least he thinks he does. They've been the only two people, besides Jordy, he's had since his mother's passing. He must admit he loved them a lot more when they understood just why these little sticky pictures meant everything to him.

A whimper pushes past his trembling lips, and he squeezes his eyes shut. "One. Two. Three." this hobby was harmless. "They are worth it." he adds with concrete finality, his finger brushing over an emblem that’s an ear of corn. "Worth every penny."

"You said I could keep the Michigan home, Daniel! You promised!"

Harry rubbed at his right temple to alleviate the steady pounding mounting inside his head, the first indicator of an impending headache. Something for which he solely blamed his client's soon to be ex-wife. Only because his temple was thumping along with the slam of her hand.

"Ms. Waters, please, calm down." it was the overtired moderator's advice, morose eyes flitting sluggishly over the hysterical woman.

She's standing when she approaches her next tirade. "How can I be calm when the man I gave and did everything for is sitting here trying to fuck me over! Almost like he's trying to reward himself for knocking up his secretary and leaving his beloved wife of ten years penniless with his first two children!"

When Harry stifles his yawn, he also stifles that overhanging need to just walk right off the edge of sanity. He's never liked any of his clients, including their distraught partners. He'd mastered his job so well that now the only people that could afford his services were petulant adult children who had way too much money—rich men and women with microscopic doses of power who treated divorce as their own sadistic board game. It disgusted him to the ends of the earth and served as his daily reminder that love and commitment was for suckers

This case, with the blubbering ex-wife, had been his best friend Liam's. Liam was his law partner, who was currently on paternity leave due to his wife going into unexpected labor. Harry had gotten a semblance of a briefing on the client, but one could never truly be prepared for the train wreck that was mediation meetings.

Mr. Harper was an esteemed boat salesman and owner whose cocky demeanor and overcompensating attitude screamed douchebag effortlessly. Harry had seen plenty enough pictures of the nuclear family his client was trading in and plenty more of the secretary he was trading it all in for. He'd seen it all and could even see none of it to know that it'd be the biggest mistake of the man's life. It was apparent his homewrecking concubine was after his money, but Harry's fleeting look into boat sales in the area told him the man had enough now but wouldn't later. So, when Harry thought about that little bit of money drying up right alongside the secretary, he'd chuckle to himself because men like Mr. Harper deserved it.

Harper's soon to be ex bothered Harry considerably, but he still pitied the woman, although he pitied her for reasons most wouldn't expect. It was the fact that she was a beautiful woman who'd given an idiot like her ex-husband ten years and two kids. Pitied her most because she'd obviously been way too in love and not logical enough at the age of twenty-two to know that you never signed a prenup without reading the small print first. Now her world was being ripped up from under her, and she was being left a penurious fool.

He pulled himself out of psychoanalyzing his client's wrecked life to acknowledge the all-consuming tension that felt like a persistent rain cloud. It was as he leaned forward, clasped hands garnished in rings, that he itched to have a drink, a real drink.

"My client can ensure that his children will be given the best of care. He will also provide Ms. Waters with a temporary living space for the next year." he allowed his sage-colored eyes, darkened by the dim lighting, to rest briefly on the bawling woman before they stationed themselves on her debilitated lawyer.

It took an awkward minute for the attorney to get her words in order, but the deranged spouse was yelling once again when she did. "Temporary, fucking temporary! How dare you!" she wailed.

The despondent lawyer attempted to calm her down, voice low as she whispered quickly into her distraught client's ear. It took the woman another stilted minute to compose her client before she spoke up again.

"I think it's a little egregious that my client's being treated as this unwanted houseguest. It'd be only fair, as well as just, that Mr. Harper provides my client with permanent accommodations to raise their two children."

Harry lets his eyes roll over to his client. He's undeniably detached from the meeting altogether, too busy scrolling through his Blackberry. Attitudes like Mr. Harper's bothered him most, and clients like Harper never even made it to Harry's desk. Harry has always had those select few potential clients who walk in his firm and assume that he tolerates spousal mistreatment because he's a divorce lawyer. Opulent men and women who were amongst the upper-echelon of people Harry wouldn't be caught dead associating with outside of a work setting.

"As I mentioned earlier, counsel, Mr. Harper will ensure that the lives of his children go uninterrupted."

She bristles. A grim smile that pulls her rose-stained lips into a thin line. "And his devoted wife?"

"She signed the prenup. My hands are tied." Harry reminds, clenching his fist when Ms. Waters slams her bony hand down again.

"A prenup that he said himself meant nothing! Was just a technicality!"

The mediator sighs deeply, wipes at his forehead with a thin blue handkerchief. "Ms. Waters, if you cannot hold yourself together, we'll be forced to reschedule for a later date.

God no, Harry thinks. The last thing he wants is to have this case postponed. He poised his mouth to object, give an eloquent spiel that would have them out of this room in the next five minutes, until the opposing lawyer beat him to the punch.

"That won't be necessary. My client will reign in her temper towards being conned for ten years."

Harry works hard to suppress the escalating need to belly laugh. It pushes against his lips and makes him execute a poorly placed cough. The uneasy silence carried on far longer than Harry would've liked; the reminder of how much this case was paying had his griping nonexistent. Eight-hundred and fifty an hour is the only reason he bit his tongue and tolerated the snobs he found himself consistently representing.

"Counselor Styles." Harry eyes the unamused mediator, "Will your client consider any other avenues to support Ms. Waters?"

Harry observes his withdrawn client first, then the middle-aged woman, with blotchy red eyes, whose life is now in shambles. "No."

Her eyes narrowed at Harry before turning her sinister gaze on her ex. "You're a bastard, and you'll rot in hell for this." the icy words were like long thick icicles, except they hadn't perforated any skin just shattered to the ground. That underlying need to cry again obvious in her tone as she stood, fleeing the room with her lawyer rushing after her.

They allowed that final outburst to settle before the stout man stood and peered down on Harry and his own client with an uninterested gaze. "We'll fax over the final documents. Thank you, gentlemen."

Harry rises quickly, a curt nod and firm handshake given to the man who made it clear he didn't do this job for the atmosphere and happy faces. As he rebuttons his suit jacket, he remembers his client, who is still absorbed into the screen of his cellphone.

"Styles, thanks again. Just have Niall fax the invoice over to Kathy, and once again, you're an all-star man. I don't know how you do it."

"Me neither." he says with this slight bluntness that can be easily overlooked.

***

"It was awful, I mean Liam, the guy couldn't care less." Harry was hunched over his desk, iPhone pressed between his ear and right shoulder, complaining to the only other person who could understand his dilemma. "She was so emotional. Crying, screaming, the whole fucking nine."

Liam's laugh is the one that is interchangeable between them both. The laughter that says, I know exactly what you're going through. "Shit, I'm sorry, H. Had I known how emotional this case would've been, I would've warned you better. I know how much you hate those." The distant sound of a baby crying draws their attention briefly. "I'll be back first thing tommo—"

"Absolutely not. You will stay home with your wife and fetus. I can handle a few dreadful cases on my own."

Liam chuckles once more, "The fetus is named Carmen."

"Yes. Your wife never fails to remind me when she's cursing my existence in Spanish."

"CC's softened her up a good bit."

His mind fills with images of Liam's little family he'd been sent over the weekend, and he smiles alone in his office. "Take your time, man, all the time you need. We're good on this home front over here."

"Thanks, H, I appreciate it. It's nice to know it's an actual heart pumping under that cold exterior."

"Ha. Ha." heavy sarcasm as he reads the time on his desktop. "I'll let you get back to domestic bliss. Talk to you tomorrow."

When he hangs up, he places his phone face down on his desk, staring at it a moment longer before he looks out into the dark, desolate corridor. Niall was sent home early, and he'd expected to follow behind him but got caught up with paperwork and Liam's phone call. When the analog clock clicks over to ten, he decides to pull somewhat of an all-nighter, the four cases sitting in his 'in' box calling out to him.

Louis didn't care about the line of teardrops trickling down his face, or the few prickles of them left clumped along the bottom of his eyelashes. He just wanted his hands to stop shaking and his jackrabbit of a heart to stop beating so damn fast. Louis wanted the stolen notepads pressed hard to his wheezing chest to ease this rising panic so he can make it home without a public breakdown. His shaking eases up as he pulls off his glasses to wipe away the accumulating tears, and it calms almost wholly when he realizes he's only a block away from home.

When his slippery hand grasps the doorknob and pushes into his abode, he only makes it into the middle of the foyer when his legs give out, and his body crumples in on itself. The click of the door allows his rapid hyperventilating to grow, and he pushes the handful of booklets closer to his chest again.

"Why would they—" a broken sob cutting him off. The booklets burn now, and he tosses them further into the room to stop the pain. He occupies his hands by placing them over his eyes—the perpetual need to claw the images from his eyelids.

It's an hour and a half later before he calms himself down, crawling into his living room to search out his metal box on the coffee table and just hold it close to his stomach. Let the aluminum cool his burning skin.

"I hate them. Hate them, hate them, hate." he whispers viciously, body swaying back and forth.

Louis grips the vibrating phone, blurry irises glaring at the twenty-one missed calls and text messages. He averts up to the time in the right corner, huffing when he realizes he needs to be at work in thirty minutes. It'd be so easy to lay flat on his living room floor and curl into a ball for the rest of eternity. Except there's Jordy, the elderly man he sits with, almost every day, who will miss him. Plus, today is a special day that he doesn't want to miss out on. So, he begrudgingly pulls himself to his bedroom, and after meditating with his hand pressed to the back of his door for five minutes he feels ready. He changes into something more comfy, and scoops the two spare keys from his front room floor, tosses one in the trash and hides the second in the hallway junk drawer.

***

"Thought I was gonna have to play monopoly with Paula." Jordy smiles big at Louis, "She cheats, you know."

Louis shuffles into the warm room. Jordy's got Gilmore Girls going on his TV, and he's already dressed for their day outside. "She does not; she's just better than you."

"Lies!" he shouts, his knitting needles raised to the ceiling.

A grimace is all Louis can manage to pass the dramatized man. It's usually relatively easy for him to get comfortable in Jordy's room. However, his nerves are shot, and he can only mentally focus on the box tucked under his arm.

"Spill the beans, cookie," he says, leaning forward to scrutinize the boy who still hasn't sat down, and is instead standing forlornly in the walkway.

"I don't think I'm friends with Kenny and Andy anymore."

Jordy pats the thick brown quilt across his bed, "Come here, kiddo."

Louis drags his body over to the queen mattress and plops down. The tears wiggle down his face way before Jordy's wrapped him in a hug. Louis' hands travel up the frail back, and he uses his right pointer finger to wrap a coil of silky midnight hair around his finger.

"Scale?"

Louis breaths in the overwhelming but soft scent of Downy fabric softener. "Seven."

"Before you got here?"

"Ten." Louis knows when he's ever at a ten, he's supposed to call out. "I didn't want you to chew me out for not coming today."

He squeezes the warm body hard, "Never over prioritizing your mental and physical health."

Louis pulls away, hands wiping gently at his damp cheeks. Jordy's got his unwavering gaze on him, and he can't help but give him a cheerful grin.

"There's that shining smile." Jordy beams, shaking Louis' shoulders. "Now, what did the bastards do?"

"They hate my stickers," Louis grabs the metal tin box next to him, "And they—they took a bin from my house, without my permission, and I found them giving them away in their complex."

"Who in the hell would want sticker notepads?"

"Innocent kids!" Louis whines, "So I looked like a complete maniac as I snatched up what was left when I got there." he stands and begins to pace, "But I, but. They're mine, and I love them more than anything—so why." he pulls at his roots because he needs something to tether him to reality, so he doesn't fall apart again.

"Breathe, cookie," Jordy advises, tremulous form rising from the bed to comfort an unstable Louis. "Open your box, and just breathe."

Louis' maneuvered back to the bed and immediately flips open the aluminum top. He pulls out a frog wearing a tuxedo and lets a watery smile spread across his face as he recounts the memory of its arrival.

It was just over a year ago that Louis collected it from a gas station on the opposite side of town. He and Jordy had been visiting a nearby ice cream stand the older male remembered from his childhood when they ventured into the hole in the wall shop.

"Well, how about that," Jordy whispers with surprise, chuckling as he watches Louis rub the picture between two fingers.

"They didn't even have the decency to say sorry." Louis watches Jordy grab the monopoly game from his dresser. "Just looked at me like I was as crazy as I felt."

"Jackasses."

His smile grows as the hunched man brings the box over, "Yeah they are."

"We should head out to the garden. The primroses are beginning to bloom."

"Will Leo be joining us?" Louis smirks when the older man knocks his leg with his cane.

"He better. I didn't spend fifty-five years learning about them to have him not nag me on the day of blooming."

Louis follows Jordy, holding on to the man as they laugh. When they get to the far edge of the garden, Louis lets Jordy direct them to the area amongst the primroses that allows him to feel the spirit of his late husband best.

He helps the man down into a chair before sitting in his own. "He never nags you."

"I know." and just as he says those words, a gentle breeze encompasses them. Jordy’s rich brown hand dances in the air, and makes Louis smile.

***

It's after eating turkey sandwiches paired with cool ranch Doritos, chugging back a four-pack of diet coke he snuck in, and letting Jordy annihilate him in four games of Monopoly that he's glad he forced himself up off his apartment floor. He's all smiles when the bus drops him off, and it doesn't waver during his short walk to his apartment building. He didn't have time to think about the fucked up thing done to him because somehow he managed to convince the executive director to let them have an off-site visit.

He's walking onto the elevator, mind still thumbing through potential places for them to visit when he smiles over at the tall frowning gentleman already in the lift. Louis' grin finally falters. He's got his lunchbox tucked under his right arm before he pulls it out and lets it sit in both hands. He thumbs over a sticker, a piece of cherry pie with a dollop of whip cream, and realizes he must pay his happiness forward.

"H-hello." Louis' almost surprised by how timid he sounds. His dirty, partially tied vans have never been so interesting. He's staring at them for way too long now, though, because he has to push on the right edge of his lenses to prevent them from sliding further down his nose. "Would you like to look at my stickers?"

The man's eyes are a Sacramento green that seem to almost fade into black at the iris when he peers down on him. A thick coffee-colored beard that cocoons a down turned mouth. The disinterest sways Louis slightly.

"I beg your pardon?"

Louis' stomach coils up and rolls around in the pit. A voice so deep and thick, like melted dark chocolate, he's immediately unswayed and giggles instead. He watches the numbers go higher before landing his eyes back on the well-dressed gentleman. "My stickers. Would you like to see them? You looked upset a minute ago, and whenever I'm upset, my stickers make me smile."

"You're kidding." his face scrunches up in annoyance, but the dinging of his watch briefly catches his attention. After he’s typed at the small screen, he's eyeing Louis again, a calculated gaze that shifts up and down his body and makes him feel as though he's under a microscope. "How old are you exactly?"

Louis' cheeks bulge out, big eyes squinted as he smiles. "Twenty-four, I’m Louis." the dimming numbers catch his eye again, and they're two floors away, which prompts him to unclick the front lock of his lunchbox. His hand sifts through the miniature pictures. "I can't give you one of these because they're my favorites, but maybe you can swing by my apartment and get one?"

Louis's incessant rambling had him not realizing the man was giving his undivided attention to his cellphone screen. When the lift dings, he's finally wrapping up his winded reply, and the man is pocketing his phone.

"No thanks, I'll pass."

"How old are you?" Louis rushes, halting the man from stepping out the lift.

"Twenty-eight."

"What's your name?" Louis asks hurriedly, trailing behind the man as they exit the elevator.

"Harry," he mutters as he continues in the opposite direction, only to be stopped when Louis speaks up again.

"What do you do?" Louis' large eyes of wonder rest on Harry’s briefcase unaware of the bated aggravation that still hasn't deterred him.

"I'm an attorney, goodbye."

Louis finally gets the message, "Goodnight, Harry."

He kicks his shoes into the hall closet, drops his phone and house keys on the coffee table before heading back to his bedroom. Jordy had also made his day ten times better by gifting him three new stickers. They were all going on his door. The first that he presses into the wood is a mango wearing sunglasses, the second a porcupine in a teacup, and the last a rainbow with the words happy below it. 

His stomach swoops, and his lip quirks up. "Welcome home, cuties. These are your brothers and sisters."

"Some oddball wanted to show me his stickers in the elevator. God, we have to get out of this complex."

Zayn had just swallowed down a spoonful of Lucky Charms, his chuckle airy as he watched Harry throw his suit jacket and briefcase into the hall closet. "Does Counselor Styles have a menace?"

"Hope not. I can only handle one of those, and you already cost me over time." Harry badgered annoyingly, ambling to his bedroom, "He was off. Just another great reason to move." He emphasized loudly, emerging shortly after changing.

Zayn rolled his eyes, smiling despite Harry's irritable behavior. "We'll never find rent this cheap. Not all of us are wealthy hot-shot lawyers."

"Oh yes, some of us are struggling artists who spend most of our days smoking marijuana and having epiphanies about life."

"You're a dick." Zayn said through faint laughter, "My art will be in museums one day, so watch your fucking mouth."

"How does one watch their mouth? Once that is explained to me, I will gladly watch my mouth."

"Goodness, you're the most condescending asshole I've ever met."

Harry shrugged, "You should feel lucky. At least you aren't living with stickers down the hall."

"Hmmm, what seems better, a bubbly, happy-go-lucky individual or a patronizing bastard?" Zayn played like he was thinking over his comment, side-eyeing an unimpressed Harry who sauntered into their kitchen after flipping him off.

"Indian or Mediterranean?" Harry shouted.

"Surprise me." Zayn placed the bowl of blue colored milk on their coffee table, and when Harry groaned deep and loud, he smiled.

"Why must you be an indecisive fuck?" Harry asked in a bored tone sitting next to a grinning Zayn, a pamphlet to both restaurants in each hand.

"Not indecisive, spontaneous." Zayn corrected, red-tinged eyes moving off his roommate to watch the TV screen, an episode of House. "You know, you remind me a lot of Dr. House. Your personalities are so similar; it's a bit…uncanny."

"That's clearly an insult posed as a compliment, but I won't dwell on it. We'll have Indian."

"Cool beans, man." Zayn's eyes were bleary, his right foot knocking into his glass bowl from earlier, making the leftover milk ripple. "I can eat anything right about now."

"You're unbearable, and clean up your mess." Harry muttered, pushing at a clearly stoned Zayn, and rising from the loveseat to retrieve his sneakers. "I'm getting our usual."

"Extra naan bread, please."

"I'll think about it," Harry told him, stomping his right foot into his shoe. Zayn's mantra of please the last thing he hears as he leaves.

Staring down the darkened hallway to the opposite end, Harry thought about the stilted conversation from moments earlier. He'd never seen this Louis character before tonight, but then again, today was the earliest he's been off in six months. He spent most nights at the office going over divorce petitions and settlements given to him by pushy clients. Days that tended to blend together and sometimes push into the early hours of the next. All-nighters with Liam that included greasy takeout or salty chips and candy bars from the vending machine in their waiting area.

Stickers was off his rocker, and with little time to spare, he wouldn't waste it on the free spirit down the hall. He had enough on his plate.

***

"Niall just have him wait in the conference room. I'll be there in fifteen mi—." The folder he'd been thumbing through fell from his hand, papers scattered across the floor. "Fucking hell!" he hissed angrily. He abruptly ended the call, pocketing his phone and dropping to one knee, gathering up the loose articles frantically.

"Oops, I'm sorry." came a delicate voice beside him, soft giggles piercing through Harry's bout of outrage, and causing him to briefly pause his frenzied actions.

Stickers.

He was bent down beside Harry, smelling faintly of baby lotion and sugar cookies. Fluffy gold-tinted locks falling over his eyelids, thick eyelashes meshing beautifully with his sapphire eyes framed behind chunky black glasses. His smile was gentle as he stared up at Harry before he blushed prettily and averted his gaze to the fallen items. 

Amongst Harry's papers was an array of stickers. They were all different, various glossy designs littered amongst his paperwork. He shook the miniature pictures off his documents, the disdain for them palpable.

"You should watch where you're going." Harry advised with a calm sternness, narrowed eyes watching the shorter male's blush bloom further down his neck, rising to his cheeks and making his eyes appear unreal. "You just cost me time that I do not have."

Louis scooped up a handful of stickers, dropping them in the opened cardboard box near his feet. "I apologized." Louis reminded him, that same unwavering smile landing on an agitated Harry. "Here." Louis had a sticker of a cactus wearing a blue bandana in his palm outstretched toward Harry, who was stuffing papers back into the manila folder.

Harry gave Louis' outstretched hand a disparaging glance before traveling upward to the elated face, bright eyes that hadn't dimmed at all since their fiasco. Closing the folder, Harry stood swiftly, eyes never wavering from the hand. Keeping his feigned disinterest intact, he slowly withdrew the thin icon, sliding it into the pocket of his suit. "You may have apologized, but I am still late."

***

"He's not really happy that you're late," Niall mumbled as discreetly as he could, trailing behind a frazzled Harry.

Harry glares at his assistant, who's staring anxiously around his office. "I'm here now. Also, if he's so unhappy with my tardiness, he can acquire another attorney. Problem solved."

"I know, but I just wanted to forewarn you. He was a huge dick earlier, shouting and acting snooty." Niall grumbles, arms crossed as he remembers what he endured with the man-baby.

Harry eyes the bothered man, "He yelled at you?"

Niall raced after Harry as he exited, "Harry, no, it's fine. I just—I just wanted you to know." he reassured, "Don't bite his head off. He's loaded, so just let it go."

"I don't care how much fucking money he has Niall; no one disrespects my employees."

Harry pushes open the door to his conference room, the opportunity for Niall to settle the waters one more time lost. The assistant decides to duck out while he still can before witnessing the malicious nature of his boss.

"He finally graces us with his presence." the condescending brunette grumbles, pocketing his cellphone.

Harry's irritation flares, and he bites into the side of his cheek to stop from saying the first insult pushing at the back of his teeth, begging to break free. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, "I would advise for future reference that you do not speak to my staff like you're an entitled buffoon."

Dickhead fish mouths, "Excuse me!?" he sits forward, "I'm Henry Cartwright, the owner of Cartwright Auto Sales, so I'd advise you to watch how you speak to me!"

Harry's eyes become dark, and he narrows them down on the man, "You pay me dumbass." his tone deathly low, "You want me to represent you, not the other way around. So, again, I advise you to speak to my employees with respect."

He sits back, mouth still slightly ajar. It closes when Harry clicks the intercom button on the conference room phone, "Niall. Come in here, please."

Niall pushes open the conference room door, "Yes."

"Apologize to him," Harry orders. When he begins to protest Harry's demand, the lawyer raises his hand, "Apologize, or leave and take your business elsewhere."

A reddened face flitted between the two men. His battle between complying or standing his ground makes Harry smirk discreetly. "This is fucking stupid." he hissed.

"Please stop wasting my time, Mr. Cartwright. I have other cases that could be benefiting from my time. I can't spend my entire workday catering to an egotistical brat."

"Sorry, damn! There, you happy!" Cartwright exasperates loudly.

"I'm spending the next month or so working with you. I'm far from happy." Harry deadpanned, eyes skirting over to his put-out assistant, "You may go, Niall."

The closing of the door has Harry sitting down and instantly thumbing through Cartwright's divorce settlement. "Is your husband aware of this divorce?"

He's taken aback by Harry's quick change, but just like the lawyer had done, he gets right into business mode. "Yes."

"Any affairs or unplanned children I should know about?"

"Oh, um, no—I—"

"Out with it, I need to know every little detail."

"I'm having an affair, but it's not why I'm leaving him."

"It doesn't matter if it was or it wasn't. His lawyer will use it against you." Harry groaned. His pointer and middle finger press into his right temple, "Is there a prenup?"

"No. We were already married when I acquired my car lot."

Harry was still fishing for more, and it was obvious Cartwright was holding back, "And?"

"And … I didn't make him sign one because, at the time, it wasn't necessary."

Harry laughs, but it's muddied with sarcasm, "For a businessman, you aren't very smart," his eyebrows draw down, and he grimaces at the fidgety body. "I don't even know why you're here."

"Look, man. When you're in love, that shit is the last thing on your mind. I just … I never—I never expected to fall out of love."

Harry chuckles in aggravation, "How does one fall out of love? When you took your vows, you made a commitment.

"Hey, look! I didn't hire you to be my fucking shrink. I hired you to make sure I don’t lose all I’ve worked for!"

"How in the hell am I supposed to accomplish that when you've pretty much fucked it to shit!" Harry retorts, nostrils flared, and chest heaving. "If you come out with nothing but a pot to piss in, it'll be your mistake, not mine."

"There is no prenup, so can we just move the fuck on!"

Harry didn't want to move on. He would've preferred to hurl more insults at the incompetent man's head. "Your mistake."

Louis had a rebuttal ready, but Harry was already rushing off, so he was left to stare at his retreating back instead. "Hope his day gets better."

Once all his stickers had been returned to the tan box, he smiled and stood to his feet.  Louis was also running late, but he didn't care. Life always on the move didn't allow you any time to enjoy what was right in front of you. Harry seemed to have a rushed life, and as Louis drifted toward the elevator, he thought that maybe he could help the man slow it down.

"I think … he needs a day of fun." Louis voiced out loud, thin fingers swooping over and under as he braided Kaylee's soft lilac-colored curls into chunky plaits. "Maybe I should invite him out with Jordy and me tomorrow. We're going to the Exploreum."

As Kaylee hums in thought, Louis looks down at Beatrice, a beagle puppy licking at his ankle. They've only got three puppies in the kennel today, which is good. More people are adopting from them, and not the puppy mill forty miles away.

"He seems like a dick. What did Andy and Kevin say? They're your best friends." Louis tugs on a strand of her hair. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, sorry," he rushes, petting at the piece of her head that he yanked, "We're not … I'm not friends with them anymore, at least, I don’t think."

She turns and looks up at him quickly, "You're lying."

His face warms, and he instead focuses on the puppies playing, "Nope."

Louis lets her pull away from his hands. She rises from the chair, and her green eyes are pinned on him, not once wavering in their scrutiny. When he starts to fidget, she eases up and walks down the hall to stop Leo, a blind golden retriever, from walking into the cinderblock wall.

"Do I want to know?" she asks a small distance away, her question echoing faintly through the room.

Louis considers Kaylee a work friend, and he doesn't think telling her about what happened, which could bring about unwanted problems, is worth the trouble. "Nope."

"Okay." she smiles back at him, shimmying over and knocking into his shoulder. "So, in that case, I guess I would say steer clear of grumpy. You don't want to deal with anybody like that, they'll suck all that happiness right out of you, and you are way too bright for that."

He blushes hard again and twirls a piece of his hair around his shaky finger, "I'm not that happy."

She shouts, which is followed up by quick laughter, "Lou, you are literally the embodiment of sunshine, so yeah, stay far away from Mr. Grumpy."

Louis smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, his glasses scrunching up on his face. "Than-Thanks Kaylee, I'm—"

"Stop it." she raises a hand. The shaking of her head makes the uneven braids flop around, "Don't get all sappy on me."

He shoots her a thumbs up, "Right."

Harry loosens his tie, right hand gripping hard into the ridges of his iPhone case. "He's incompetent, Liam. I just know I'm going to lose."

"Are there truly any winners in divorce court, Harry?" Liam asked over the cellphone line. Harry rolled his eyes because he didn't need to see Liam to know he was wearing his condescending grin.

"My clients, no matter how much I despise most of them, not hashing out millions of dollars to their ex-spouses' counts as a win for me." the quietness across the line allowed his comment to settle, "Okay, that sounded extremely callous, but you get my point."

"Yes, I get your point, but are you willing to stand by it?"

"With risk of looking like a god-awful human being? Yes."

There was shuffling and laughing through the speaker, "You should come over for dinner, or I don't know, go out and enjoy life. Being around failed marriages can't be healthy."

"Fun will only aid in driving me to insanity, but I can have Niall pencil you in."

Liam laughed again, "Goodness, I thought our friendship meant more to you, young Styles."

"I'm a busy man Liam, I make exceptions for no one, not even my mother. All engagements must be accounted for. My time is precious."

"It's the weekend." Liam deadpanned.

"Weekends still have the word 'week' in them, Payne."

"Whatever, just be at my house Sunday at eight-thirty."

"I'll tell Niall."

Liam huffed in disbelief, "See you Sunday."

Immediately after hanging up, Harry pressed the intercom button on his office telephone. "Niall, clear my schedule for Sunday night."

"Okay. Also, a Frankie Johnson wants to meet with you sometime this weekend."

"Uhh," Harry stared down at the calendar laid out across his desk, "We can do tomorrow at two."

"Okay, and another thing…"

Harry sighed slowly, "Yes, Niall."

"Um, may I please go home? A new episode of—"

"You're already boring me. Just go." Harry said before Niall could start rambling, fingertips pushing at his brow line.

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry listened out for the alarm that beeped anytime the door opened. When it sounded off and then died out soon after, he took a deep breath. "Fuck."

His bones ached, and his eyes had that pins and needles feel to them as he stared hard at the papers laid all over his desk. His forest irises moved over the small box at the bottom of his desktop screen. "Goodness, already ten-thirty." the urge to call it a night grew the longer he eyed the time. The ache in his body grew the longer he sat stationary.

"Fuck it." he huffed, sliding the paperwork back into one pile and standing slowly from his swivel chair. His back and knees crack beautifully on his ascend, and he shakes his limbs slightly just to ease the pent up feeling in his bones.

He lifts his suit jacket and down flutters the sticker he'd been gifted earlier. The first thing that flashes in his mind are the iridescent blue eyes that he must admit in his own privacy were quite beautiful, and the smile that's itching to break out across his face is beat down by that part of him that doesn't want to be amused. However, as he peels off the back paper and presses it down on the corner of his desk calendar, he thinks that a cactus is very fitting for him. "He's still quite ... eccentric."

On the way to his car he list in his head all the reasons he placed the sticker on his desk, but none of them negate the fact or idea that he is entertaining stickers and his hobby when he shouldn't be.

"Siri, call Zayn."

He answers on the third ring, "Yo."

"I'm leaving work. Did you cook?"

"Made my world-famous crunchwraps, and before you write them off, I must say that I truly outdid myself."

"You're lucky that I'm way too tired to stop, so your college boy food will suffice."

Zayn cackles, "See you in five."

***

Louis adjusts his backpack strap as he stands to get off the bus. He glances at his watch, an immediate frown falling on his lips. Louis didn't like being out later than ten, and the time was pushing eleven. The cages were disgusting, and although that's a job for the weekend crew, he and Kaylee couldn't leave the puppies in filth.

He waves back at Dorinda. "You be careful, kid." she advises him with a tired smile.

"Always! See you tomorrow Dori."

He shoots her another minute wave before he heads in the direction of home. It's late, and he feels extremely overworked, but he still manages to keep a smile on his face as he enters the gate of his complex. His fingers dance through the overgrown shrubs leading up the path to the double doors, and he's alone on the elevator, reaching out to press his floor when Harry ambles through looking just as tired as Louis feels.

"Hi, Harry." he greets quietly, the happiness to see his floor neighbor still evident. His head feels too heavy to travel up the man's frame and look him in the face. "Did your day get any better?"

Harry groans shortly, the eye roll unnoticed. "Not you again."

Louis jostles when the elevator begins the upward rise, "Yes, me again. I do live here." his giggles are faint dustings in the calm atmosphere.

Harry rubs his eyes, "Thanks for reminding me." he rolls his shoulders, the fatigue incessant, "And to answer your earlier question, no, it did not." he pinned a bored gaze on the small man until the petite man was frowning, and Harry had to force himself to look up at the changing numbers.

"M'sorry," Louis said with all the sincerity he could muster. It was a tender and melodic apology that had Harry, for a split second, dropping his designated asshole act.

Harry sighs and tries to give Louis some semblance of a smile. "It's fine. I just hate my career some days."

When the lift dinged, Harry let Louis exit first. His eyes travel briefly over the man's ass, which Harry could admit secretly of course, was phenomenal. He pulled them away reluctantly when Louis started talking again.

"You never told me what type of law you practice."

"I'm a divorce attorney."

"Oof, that's no fun…definitely explains your bad day."

"Exactly." Harry agreed, his tone deprecating as he rubbed over his face. "Eight years in, and I'm still trying to understand the complexities of human relationships."

Louis looks up at the mottled brown ceiling, assessing the spiderweb cracks throughout the infrastructure. "Love is a beautiful thing, but it can also be sad sometimes."

Harry lets loose a dry laugh before he really scrutinizes the man, because he doesn't truly believe this is a twenty-four-year-old. Honestly, the guy is so fresh-faced and propitious that Harry is baffled as well as slightly intrigued. He's got a black Jansport backpack littered in stickers tossed over his shoulder, and the distressed skinny jeans with holes at the knees are rolled up to reveal dainty ankles. Green orbs travel higher to the oversized white crewneck with the word 'smile' stitched into the fabric, pink and loopy cursive. No matter how Harry wanted to see Louis, he was breathtaking. A surprise for the lawyer to think seeing that optimist wasn't his type.

"It's a waste of time." he finally responds bluntly, his voice even and precise. "Divorce is a testament to that."

When Louis frowned, shiny eyes staring at him blankly, Harry felt off. "Not true, Harry." when he finally smiles, Harry relaxes again. "Divorce just proves that sometimes, and in some cases, people don't get it right the first time around."

Harry's laugh was short chuckles until he thought about some of his more extreme clients, and his laughter grew. Grew to the point his stomach was uncomfortable, and his cheeks ached. He exhaled after the last chuckle. "Oh god, for an adult, you sure are…naïve."

Louis frowned again, and Harry couldn't ignore it, so the agitation from before was back. "Am not."

Harry looked behind him in the direction of his apartment. "Have you actually been in a relationship before?"

The grimace deepened, and Harry wanted to break out of his skin. "Well, n-no, but I—"

"Point proven." He interjected, keeping his eyes far away from the face that was making his insides churn. "I rarely get cases where they're splitting up for the better. It's usually over a bastard child or an affair gone awry."

Harry releases the breath he was holding when Louis finally smiles big and wide. "I don't need to have been in a relationship to know love is beautiful, Harry." He wrings his hands together, and when he leans forward on his toes, Harry catches the briefest smell of Johnson and Johnson. "When you fall in love, you'll see it from my point of view."

Harry drops the intense gaze, "Highly doubtful, but I just love that auspicious spirit of yours."

Louis obviously can't detect the sarcasm because his smile grows even more significant, and he blushes shyly. "Thank you."

Harry smirks because this must be a joke. "Goodnight, Louis."

When his right hand is gripped, Harry stops himself from yanking the pixie close. Louis' hands are warm and weirdly comforting. It's released way too soon for his liking. "Oh, um, I—I wanted to invite you somewhere tomorrow. It's through my job, but it'd just be me, you, and my friend."

Harry's giving Louis a look of disbelief. "You have a job?"

Louis throws him a scowl that's anything but threatening. He can't even hold it for long because he giggles. "Mhmm. I'm an aid at a nursing home Monday thru Thursday."

Harry's eyebrows rise, "Why is that so fitting for you."

"Anyways, I'm taking my patient, Jordy, to an interactive museum tomorrow morning, and then we usually get lunch and take a walk around lake—" Louis doesn't realize he's rambling, his eyes boring into his scuffed converse. His glasses begin to slide, so he quickly pushes them upward with his knuckle. "—He might convince me to go in a couple shops, so we might do that, and he'll probably want ice cream from Jake's, which he can't—"

"I'm busy." Harry interrupts.

The little 'o' shape shouldn't be endearing to Harry, but it is. Until Louis frowns and then allows his face to go completely blank. "Oh, okay. G-Goodnight."

Harry doesn't quickly turn his back and walk away. He instead watches Louis hurry down the opposite end of the hallway and promptly push inside his apartment. He stands for a minute longer, and the terrible taste in his mouth that he expects to subside doesn't, so he finally turns to make his way to his own doorstep.

***

"I was beginning to worry you'd been offed by one of your client's disgruntled ex-spouses," Zayn yells as Harry passes him up on the way to his bedroom.

"I would never get so lucky."

The loud cackles bring a brief smile to his lips. It's gone the minute he remembers Louis' dejected face, and now instead he's grimacing. It was all he could mull over as he showered and slid in his pajamas. That face of happiness plummeting so fastly into sadness eats at his conscience that he groans softly on his way back to the front of the apartment.

"Food's in the oven. Everything to put on them is in the fridge."

"Thanks." Harry sighs.

Zayn leans forward because he's expecting a drier response than that, like a complaint about the food. He keeps his eyes on the lawyer up until he's sitting next to him on their couch. "Uh, you…okay?"

"I saw stickers again." Harry eats two bites of his crunchwrap.

That explains everything, so Zayn relaxes and smirks discreetly. "Oh yeah, your apartment nemesis."

Harry gives the artist a scowl, "Watch it."

Zayn chuckles as he holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm done."

"So yeah, anyway, we were talking, and he's definitely something—" Harry pauses and thinks about before, then Zayn's staring at him with this look Harry despises. "—Well, he invited me out tomorrow morning, and I said no, but now—"

"Aww, does Counselor Styles finally have a heart."

Harry rises to take his plate to the kitchen, "Never talking to you again."

Zayn quickly follows the grumbling man, laughing loudly. "Dude, dude, I'm sorry it just caught me off guard. You never talk to me about your feelings."

"Hey!" Harry throws a finger up into Zayn's face, "I was not talking about feelings."

Zayn wants to correct him that they were, but the glare Harry's giving him makes him decide otherwise. "Well, look, you're always busy, and he doesn't know that, so just explain it to him tomorrow or you know, leave him a note on his door."

"A note!" Harry's rushing out of the kitchen and to the hallway where he slips into his sneakers, a baffled Zayn watching from the kitchen entry.

"H, I meant tomorrow."

Harry waves the man away, grabs his keys and wallet, and heads out the door. When he pulls up to the 24-hour arts and crafts store that's two buildings down from his law office, he reevaluates what he's doing exactly. He owes Louis nothing, they aren't friends, and he'll never see the male outside of their complex, so why does he feel the need to overcompensate.

Then those big blues flash through his head. "Oh, that's why. He's fucking radiant." Harry grouches to himself, heading into the store with a frown.

He doesn't know what to grab or how many to buy, so he goes with his gut. His gut has him buying one of each from the aisle. It's twelve when he finally makes his way out of the little shop, a large brown paper bag filled to the brim with stickers.

At first, he feels like he's fucked because he may have seen Louis go into an apartment, but it's blurry on which one. That is until he approaches the last door on the hall, and it's got a few stickers surrounding the peephole. Harry tries his hardest to hold down his smile as he places the bag at the door. He contemplates leaving a note but decides not to, he doesn't want to give the ball of sunshine any indication that he felt bad.

***

Louis hasn't cried this hard in so long that when he presses his back to his apartment door, slides down, and bawls like a baby, he's more than surprised. It's not like he didn't expect Harry to decline, but it was how fast he did it that bothered Louis most. He gets over it quickly, though, and after a warm bath and eating a bowl of Trix, he concludes that Kaylee was right.

He's watching YouTube when he hears shuffling outside his apartment door. Immediately he assumes it's Kenny and Andy because he's been ignoring them ever since they ruined his trust, and it wouldn't surprise him if they showed up unannounced. When he finally approaches the door and peaks out the peephole, the hallway is empty. Frowning, he opens it slowly and can barely catch the paper bag leaning against his entrance.

His excitement was almost difficult to tame as he carried the bag to his living room coffee table, and it's a long, warm hug when he dumps them out. They're all different, and his sour mood is immediately replaced with immense happiness.

"Maybe they are sorry," Louis mumbles as he passes a finger over a Ferris wheel.

He goes to text the two men but thinks it'll be better if he tells them face to face tomorrow before he heads to get Jordy. He snuggles under his covers with a smile, and it stays pressed into his pillow the entire night.

"We're so sorry, Lou. We just wanted you to get better." Andy says.

"I am better. My stickers make me better." Louis emphasizes.

"So, you honestly think we would get rid of the bastards just to bring you more?" Kenny chimes in, giving Louis one of his looks that he only gives to people he finds incompetent.

"Oh, I just thought—never mind." he peered at his watch, fixing his glasses, and heading for the front door. "I have to—go."

"Nice going dickhead." Andy groused, following Louis. "Lou, we don't care about that shit. We just want to be friends with you again."

Louis grips the strap of his messenger bag tight, his empty hand reaching out for the doorknob, but averting to rub over a large sticker on the front flap instead. "That's just it, D." Louis huffs, turning to eye both men up, "You don't care about this, and this is a part of me."

He doesn't want to stick around for the apologies, he should've known they wouldn't have done something so thoughtful. Louis' almost tempted to cancel again, go home, and just hide under his covers. Except, Jordy hasn't been outside the facility in nearly two weeks, and he was able to lift Louis' spirits last time, so he can't bail on the man now.

"People suck," Jordy says when they're eating their cones and walking through the downtown shops. "The ones who vow to stick by you and don't, suck the worse."

Louis licks at his mint chocolate cone, "They were everything to me, especially when I couldn't be everything for myself."

"But that's just it, cookie. You're so much better now, and you can be everything." he squeezes at Louis' hand before taking two big bites out of his strawberry.

"Jor, how do you manage to bite your ice cream?" Louis fakes a shudder before grinning.

"It's all in the fake teeth, kid, plus when Leo and I would go out for ice cream, he'd take big bites out of mine. It was the only way I could get back at the bastard, so I was converted."

"Was Leo ever mean to you?" Louis asked softly, mind thinking of a certain stony-faced brunette.

"Mean how?"

"I dunno."

Jordy frowns as he thinks, "Leo never did anything to intentionally hurt me. He was easily bothered, and his temper made me want to knock his head off his shoulders sometimes, but man could he pull off an apology." Louis laughs gently before he smiles. "He'd go out of his way to make me smile, never downplayed his wrongs, and always told me he'd be better. I was never worried because one thing about Leo, he kept his word."

"I … like someone, but he's a bit ... blunt."

"Hmm." Jordy took another bite of ice cream, "Is it purposefully directed towards you?"

Louis looked to the sky, "Uhhh, I don't think so."

"Keep being you cookie, and he's sure to come around." Jordy smiles over at Louis. "You've got something about you kiddo, he's probably already fallen and just hasn't realized it."

He blushes so profoundly that his cheeks feel warm. "Thanks, Jor."

"So, Zayn tells me you've got a crush on someone in your building." Liam's laughing immediately after his statement because Harry looks like he could kill.

"Zayn is a lackadaisical stoner whose word isn't believable." the lawyer grits angrily. "Louis is not my type."

"If he weren't your type, you wouldn't have called him by his name. You would've used something a little bit more—"

"Demeaning!" Yamina yells from the kitchen before appearing in the dining room. She places dinner on the table, and Harry doesn't even acknowledge her comment, just begins piling food on his plate.

"Louis' personality is too benevolent. He also has some questioning views pertaining to love and relationships that don't align anywhere with mine. Also, he smiles way too much for a world doused in detestable actions and conditions—" Liam thinks the man is finished and goes to chime in about something different. "—He smells like a baby who's been dipped in cookie dough for god's sake. He even has this sticker collection that shouldn't be a thing, but is, and I—"

"Geez, dude, we get it." Yamina’s black shoulder-length curls frame her face as she peers down at Harry. She rolls her hazel eyes and gives him a mischievous smirk. "You're head over heels."

Harry frowns again and almost bends his fork out of shape. "You're the worst." he looks over at Liam, who's trying to suppress his own laughter. "Both of you."

"I'm happy for you, H, just, don't run him off and don't be so much you."

"No!" Yamina shakes her head quickly. "Don't be you at all if you want to keep him around."

"Ha." He tells her bluntly, shovels in rice and beans to stop himself from jumping on the defense.

Louis gets another bag of stickers the following week. The first is on Monday morning, and it's just as full as the one from Friday night, except the stickers inside are different. He doesn't realize how much time he spends basking over his new babies until it's time for him to head to work.

Ripped jeans, dirty vans, and his pink and yellow tie-dye crewneck with 'happy' in loopy black letters across the front is his outfit of choice. He slathers his exposed ankles and wrist in baby lotion because it's the only cream that doesn't make his skin itch. He then sprays himself in his sugar cookie body spray from Bath and Body Works and grabs his DD perks card to grab him and Jordy breakfast. He snags up the first metal lunchbox he sees and leaves.

It's as he's waiting for the elevator that he notices Harry approaching. He's on the phone and in deep conversation, so Louis just keeps to himself. They haven't had any other run-ins since Friday, which, on Louis' part, was purposeful. He's gotten better at gauging when someone doesn't like him or his happiness, and even though Harry hasn't said that straight out, his brusque attitude does the job.

"Good morning, Louis."

He shoots wide eyes up at Harry, whose phone is no longer pressed to his ear but being slid in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. When the lift dings, Louis breaks out of his shock and shuffles into the elevator. "Good morning Harry."

"How was your weekend?"

Louis looks up at the man again. He’s stunningly dressed, fitted black dress pants, and a sheer white top under a navy blue jacket. His hair is slicked back and his beard has been trimmed down. He feels weird because Harry still looks uninterested, but he asked Louis a question, not the other way around.

"Um, pretty good. I spent Saturday with Jordy, and then Sunday I added some new stickers to my door and lunchbox."

"New stickers?"

"Oh, yeah, um, somebody has been leaving me bags of stickers at my door." Louis rubs his thumb over a banana split emblem. "I thought it was someone else, but it isn't, so I can't thank whoever it is."

Harry nods, a large hand rubbing over his bearded face, and then he finally looks down at the fidgety man. "Do you like them?"

"Oh, most definitely!" Louis smiles big, and Harry's heart somersaults, "They help me, and that's why I wish I could tell whoever it is that I'm so-so grateful."

Harry can't ask the sticker lover why they are important because the lift shakes and settles before opening its metal doors. Louis steps out and gazes up at Harry with a subtle grin. "H-have a good day, Harry. I really enjoyed talking to you."

"You have a good one as well," Harry said, giving a curt nod before rushing outside to his car.

***

"He was a lot nicer today," Louis tells Jordy. They're sitting out under the terrace eating the half-dozen box of donuts Louis brought, three of their favorites each. "He asked about my stickers. He didn't smile or anything, but he seemed interested in what I had to say." Louis can't help the goofy grin that rises to his lips. "I like him a lot. A lot Jordy."

"Shouldn't you be falling for the dope that's leaving the stickers outside your door?" Jordy asks, biting into a Boston crème. "I mean, that screams future son-in-law to me."

Louis smirks at Jordy's wording. "I guess you're right. I'll have to form a stakeout and find out the culprit. They have to live in the building, but I talk to so many residents I can't even begin to make a clear assumption."

"Well, gay, that's your first clear one." Jordy chimes in, laughing at Louis' frowny face.

"Thanks for the obvious."

He finishes off his second donut and smiles. "Of course, cookie."

"Haz, you've got a thank you basket on your desk from Cartwright. I think he's got a crush on you now." Niall tells the man as he waltzes inside.

"Entitled cheaters aren't my type." Harry quips as he walks into his office. He groans at the large basket sat in the middle of his desk.

He goes to throw the entire thing out until the two jars of local honey catch his eye, and he makes the exception. He grabs the two glass containers out and clicks the intercom for Niall. "You can have it," he tells the brunette as he places the honey jars on his bookshelf.

"Thanks, boss," Niall chirps with a bright smile. Harry manages a straight-laced grin back before he gets started on reviewing Johnson's case.

He's about three good hours into his work when he gets distracted by his mind, or maybe he gets distracted because he keeps staring down at the cactus sticker and being reminded of a certain someone. His mind plagued with the smile Louis wore as he talked about the secret stickers he's been receiving—the stickers Harry has been intentionally leaving the man. He wanted to see that smile again, and he was feeling slightly reckless because he wanted to see that smile in the flesh, during the moment Louis got them. Harry groaned because, again, that was reckless.

Even after his conclusion, he still finds himself looking for stickers online. He'd pretty much cleaned out the store next to his firm, so now he had to find other options. His other options came in the form of a website called Etsy, and now his cart was almost totaling a little over a thousand.

"Why are you buying a surplus of stickers?" Niall asked over Harry's shoulder.

Harry minimizes the browser and glares up at Niall, who has his lunch he'd ordered in his hand. "Why are you snooping?"

"I wasn't, so again, why are you buying thousands of dollars in stickers?"

"Don't worry about it." Harry grits, grabbing the bag of food.

"So, can I use company time to e-shop too?"

"Get out, Niall," Harry shouts, frowning at the retreating back of his giggling assistant. He rubs at his forehead, and when he's sure the man isn't going to make another abrupt return, he goes to check out. After placing his order that should arrive in two days, he kicks himself because he sure wishes he could see Louis' face when he gets them.

It's not until day three of his stakeout that Louis' world is flipped upside down. He'd almost gotten to the point of thinking that whoever had been leaving him the heartfelt gifts were closing up shop. Then Wednesday evening came. He'd been just about to cuddle up on his couch and enjoy his Michelina pizza roll TV dinner alongside a glass of water, when he heard shuffling outside the door. It took him an entire minute to break out of the cover mountain he'd been in, as well as safely place his food on the coffee table. He didn't even brace himself for who could be on the other side. He was undeterred by the fact he was in his pajamas, an x-large white Kiss t-shirt he'd gotten from the thrift store, black biker shorts, and knee-high socks that had 'be kind' at the top. He just swung his door open with the biggest smile.

It fell the minute he processed that it was Harry, the man who didn't like him or his hobby, with a padded mailbag in his hand. The green eyes rolled, and that made Louis frown even more.

"H-Harry are you," he focuses on his finger beginning to chip at the paint on his front door. "Is this a joke?"

Harry sighed in disbelief, "You honestly think that I would spend almost two grand on stickers as a joke?"

Louis shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself and stepping back into the comfort of his apartment. "I dunno. You were pretty mean before, so I'm just…"

"I wasn't—" he sighs, "I was a pretentious dickhead who also has a mundane personality." Harry looked Louis in the face, "I'm sorry."

Louis' cheeks color red, and he squeezes his body. "Than-thank you, Harry. Do you want to come in? I'm having dinner."

Harry declines with a slow headshake, and when he sees Louis beginning to frown again, he speaks up. "I can't tonight, but my roommate is sleeping over at a friend's tomorrow, and I'll have the place to myself. I can cook us dinner?"

"That sounds lovely," Louis whispers. When he grins up at the brunette, Harry's heart swells. "I can't wait. Is it okay if I come over around eight?"

"That'll be perfect." Harry extends the jiffy that's filled with the stickers from the online shop. "Here you are."

Louis smiles even bigger. A smile so broad that it makes his eyes crinkle and briefly hides his oceans of blue. "Night, Harry. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

"So, I have to be gone for the entire night?" Zayn asked slowly as he slipped into his jacket.

"Yes, go stay with Niall. He's been missing you," Harry groans. He ushers the man towards the front door. "Please, for your safety, do not return to this apartment."

"Wow, dude. I've never seen you so flustered." Zayn laughs when Harry glares at him, "It looks good on you, man. I can't wait to meet stickers."

"Do. Not. Return." Harry says again before closing the door on his grinning roommate's face.

Harry stares at the closed door. He is flustered, which bothers him more than it should because, well, he's never flustered. Louis is still not someone he plans on being long-term with; he just needs a warm body to make the stresses at work not seem so suffocating. Besides, Louis' just too happy. He wouldn't be able to consistently take that much happiness, probably wouldn't ever see the man get upset or angry, which would just bother him overtime. Harry needs someone who realizes that life is a poorly scripted horror film and not a never-ending reel of running through fields of flowers.

His hands are sweatier than he expects when it’s five to eight. He made steak with a simple side salad and dinner rolls. He almost misses the light successions of knocks that rain down on his door because he's too busy scrutinizing the set-up. Before he answers, he assesses his reflection in the hallway mirror. Navy blue dress pants and a simple white dress shirt rolled to his elbows. His hair is slicked, and he'd trimmed his beard down a tad just so it wasn't too bushy.

"Good evening Lou—" Harry's eyes were traveling way before his words could finish forming. He was surprised because every time he's run into Louis, his clothes have always swamped his petite frame. However, now, he was dressed stunningly. Black fitted jean capris, a loose gray crop top with a Rose embroidered on the front, and red converse. Harry's irises stayed on the golden flat tummy. He wanted to lick whip cream or any kind of sweet condiment for that matter out of the concave of Louis' belly. He had a small black backpack on his right shoulder that was covered in the signature stickers. "—Louis. Good evening."

"Hi, Harry," Louis mumbled, rubbing at his forearm, and shifting on his feet. He looks over the lawyer's shoulder, which clues Harry in on what he was doing.

"Shit, my apologies. Come on in." Harry willed himself not to look down at Louis' backside, but he never claimed to be a saint, and he's glad he allowed himself the opportunity because holy fuck, what an ass. "Uh, how was your day?"

"Pretty good. Jordy and I finally reorganized his closet." Louis put his bag on the hallway table and headed further inside the apartment. "How about you?"

"Eh, it was work. I'm balancing four cases right now so, fun times." Harry joked, trying to ease a smile onto his face. Louis didn't seem convinced considering the strained smile he gave.

"Well, we don't have to have dinner tonight if you're busy. I wouldn't want you to get behind on your work." Louis tells him, glimmering eyes peering up at Harry.

"Not to sound too cocky, but I'm pretty damn good at my job, so we can have dinner."

Louis giggles prettily, delicate hand covering his mouth. "Okay."

"Alright then, right this way. I've got the table ready, and the steaks are in the oven staying warm. So, just have a seat, enjoy your salad and the rolls while I get the main course. Oh, and the vinaigrette is homemade."

Louis nods, sitting down, and immediately grabbing a roll from the basket. He moans just as Harry is headed towards the kitchen. The sound has Harry faltering, reaching out for the wall, and turning his head back to stare at the smiling fay. "These are yummy."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, hurrying into the kitchen to fix his bulge. He took a few deep breaths before retrieving the steaks from the oven and heading back into the dining area. "Alright, dinner is served."

When Harry was seated, Louis thanked him and began to cut his steak up. Harry had already devoured a quarter of his when he noticed Louis gazing at him shyly. "Something wrong? Too pink?"

"Oh no, it's looks and smells phenomenal. I just—do you have any ranch?"

Harry was only a man changed so much, and the dumbfounded gaze he gave Louis had the man's cheeks turning ruby. "Ranch."

"Mhmm, ranch. I like it with my steak."

Harry shook his head, baffled by what he was hearing. "You don't—" he released a short sarcastic laugh. "—You don't put ranch on steak. It's a meat best ate alone."

Louis rolled his eyes, "So, no ranch?"

Harry frowned, grumbles igniting as he ambled his way back into the kitchen. "Ranch with steak." he scoffed quietly, "Unbelievable."

It was hard for Harry to watch Louis dip each morsel of steak in the god-awful white substance. Every time he wanted to beg the man to stop, he'd stare up at Harry with those galaxy irises and settle any upset Harry might have had.

"It's so good, Harry, you're an amazing cook. I'm total shit in the kitchen." Louis confessed, pink cheeks illuminated by the warm light.

"I have a bottle of red we can pop open if you want?" He goes to stand when Louis stops him.

"I'm not having alcohol right now. I just switched medications, and I kind of want to get used to taking it first."

Harry's puzzled face watches Louis', who's still happily munching on his dinner. "Medication? If you don't mind me asking."

"Oh yeah, no, you're fine. It's for my anxiety." Louis clears up, still undeterred by Harry, who's putting all the information together.

"No fucking way." Louis' eyes are wide, and he's smirking subtlety up at Harry. "No way—you—you're joking."

"Nope."

"Fuck." Harry ran his hands through his hair and down his face. "I was so shitty to you."

"Please, please, please don't try to rewind," Louis whined softly, dipping his last piece of steak in the ranch puddle. "It makes it obvious that you think something's wrong with me when you rewind."

"I'm not rewinding. I'm just realizing that I'm a dickhead."

Louis shrugged. "Eh, I've experienced worst. You just seem blunt, not mean, besides I still thought you were cute."

Harry pauses his freakout and gazes heatedly at Louis. "Just cute?"

Louis shifts in his seat, "Other things too."

"Same goes for you," Harry added, dark eyes on a squirmy Louis. "Would you like to stay?"

"I didn't bring any pj's." Louis breathes out, his own eyes steady on the tall brunette.

"That's no problem."

 ***

They're at opposite ends of Harry's couch when they first start the movie. It's Anchorman, Louis' pick over Harry's choice for Children of the Corn. Then Louis asks for a change of clothes, and when he reemerges from Harry's guest bathroom in one of his gym t-shirts and barely noticeable boxers, he pats his thigh and gives the shy male a sultry smirk.

"Come here."

"No funny business, I'm not that easy," Louis whispers as he sits slowly down into the warm lap. "Just want a cuddle. Haven't had one in a while."

Harry rolls his eyes at Louis's back because the last thing he wants to do right now is cuddle. He wants to get his hands on the ass pressed close to his cock. "You want to spend the night and cuddle?"

"Mhmm." Louis hums, leaning back and laying his head on Harry's left shoulder. "Belly rubs?"

Harry goes to groan but thinks maybe if he indulges the man, he'll get to indulge in his body. "Fine, but only a few."

He rubs Louis tummy the entire duration of the movie, and he's so comfortable that he doesn't even notice that sex is the last thing on his mind as they laugh and enjoy the film. Any time he would go to stop the light rubbing, Louis would whine softly, and Harry would immediately continue. They watch two more films, both Louis' picks, and cuddle closer with no funny business.

Halfway through the third, Louis dozes off, and Harry carries him to his bedroom where they fall asleep with again no sex. It's as he's setting his alarm for tomorrow morning that he realizes this is the first date he's had in over three years that didn't have an end result of some sort of coitus. He reaches deep down in himself to be bothered, but when Louis rolls over and snuggles close, he loses grip of it and shuts his own eyes instead.

Harry enjoys having Louis in his bed. The man is so tiny and compact that it's easy to forget he's even there, and the only time Louis' remembered is when he comes to cuddle back up to Harry in the middle of the night. He's colder than Harry, so the lawyer always braces himself for the icy feet that slide in between his calves for warmth. He smells so good that Harry can't help but dive his nose into the feathery strands of hair.

He doesn't need this, though. He needs quickies and lovers who can understand that he doesn't do the long-term attachment. Staring down at Louis, whose thick eyelashes rest delicately against his high cheekbones, that seem to be rosy even in the morning light, he can't even fathom how he'll just let this taper off.

The blues that eventually peak up at him make the brunette smile slightly. "Good morning, Bumble." Louis' eyes expand briefly before he calms and instead smiles gently up at Harry, who can't believe he let the nickname slip.

Louis rubs at his eye, an airy yawn falling past his lips. "Morning. How did you sleep?"

"Very good. You're a phenomenal cuddler."

"I know," Louis reveals, laughing when Harry eyebrows rise. "Wanna go get some breakfast?"

Harry has the decline aimed and ready, but he makes the mistake of looking into Louis' lucent blue eyes that seem to be sparkling although Harry's curtains are drawn, and the room is still fairly dark. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Dunkin'." Louis suggests as he rises out of bed, "There's one right on Baker. Which is right near the bus stop I take for work."

Harry's so enamored by the sticker lover that he eases off his mattress as well and pulls Louis close before he can dart into Harry's bathroom to change. "Hold on, what time do you have to be in?"

"Nine. I usually get on the bus at 8:30, just in case traffic's bad or something."

"Well, my firm is on Baker, so we can head out now, pick up Dunkin' and just hang out in my office until you have to catch the bus. My first client meeting is at ten."

Louis stares up at Harry whose holding him a lot closer than a few minutes ago. "Sounds perfect." he looks down at Harry's chest briefly before back up at the mildly austere eyes. "I want a kiss."

"What do you say?" Harry says, his dominant edge appearing entirely on its own.

"Please."

Harry's not the least bit surprised that Louis' lips are as soft as they are. Everything else about the man is dreamy, so he wouldn't expect his lips to be nothing short of the same. They're slightly cold, but Harry's warmth makes up for it, and it's also clear Louis is not only inexperienced but extremely submissive. He goes pliant instantly, and Harry, always the dominant being, has no problem taking charge and guiding Louis' lips along. It takes everything to break apart.

Louis whimpers and grabs up two handfuls of Harry's white t-shirt, standing on his tip-toes to get another taste. "P-Please."

"No, Bumble. We have to go get breakfast."

Louis nods slowly and turns to head into the bathroom. He stops and gives Harry another hopeful gaze, which makes the lawyer smile. "How about later?"

"If you're lucky," Harry tells him.

***

Louis loves Dunkin', and the employees love him too because Harry hasn't seen someone order so much food from a mediocre donut shop, and minimum wage employees be so excited to see one customer. They know him by name, and they know his order by heart. Harry adds on a large black coffee and bagel with cream cheese before paying.

Louis' flashing him a pink and orange card with a frown when they step away from the cashier. "I have my perks card. I could've paid."

"It's fine. You deserve it."

When they're leaving out, Louis pulls his strawberry donut from his bag and takes a big bite. He offers the treat up to Harry, who declines. "I'm not really a sweets guy."

"Come on." Louis takes another bite, then offers it back up to Harry. "One bite, for me?"

Harry huffs with exaggeration before taking a large bite of the sweet bread, "Happy?"

Louis gives him a big grin and finishes the donut off, "Mhmm."

When they’re in front of Harry's firm he ushers Louis into the building. He sees Niall at his desk, the surprise on his assistant's face makes him sigh in disdain. He's still got his hand on Louis' lower back, and the man is too busy drinking his iced coffee and peering at the walls covered in degrees and accolades to notice the insinuating looks Niall's passing him.

Niall's up and in front of Louis before Harry can sweep him into his office. "Hi, I'm Niall."

"Louis." he greets with a smile, wiping his wet hand on his jeans before shaking the extended hand.

Niall stares at Harry first, then puts his eyes back on Louis, who's draped in one of Harry's old band t-shirts that's knotted at the side. The brunette notices the bag covered in stickers and smiles big. "You're…new."

"Enough, Niall. Stay away from my office, understood?"

Niall's still assessing Louis, who's wrapped close to Harry and too occupied with looking around to catch what is transpiring. "Understood, boss."

"He was nice. I've never been in a law office before," Louis says as he takes out his breakfast. Two egg and cheese wraps, an order of hashbrowns, another donut that's chocolate sprinkle, and ketchup.

"It's a very dull environment. Lots of meetings and egocentric clients," Harry tells him as he slathers his bagel in cream cheese. "Is the nursing home your only occupation?"

Louis giggles and Harry's bored confusion makes him stop, and instead busy himself with making a ketchup puddle on the crinkle paper. "You said occupation."

"That's the correct terminology."

Louis giggles again, "Yeah, I know, it was just funny serious Sally. But yeah—no, it's not. I volunteer at an animal shelter on Fridays."

Harry pouts at the nickname, before slathering the other half of his bagel. "How good a samaritan of you."

"You have very dry humor."

"I know, and you're doing better than most. Seriously though, that's amazing."

Louis' balling up his trash when he grins Harry's way. "Thanks, Counselor Styles. It's nice to give back and we've been inspiring more people to adopt from us than the puppy mill." he stands, waltzing over to the trash can and studying the large bookcase on his way. His eyes eventually land on the two jars of honey. Louis points them out and smiles at Harry, who has moved behind his desk to get ready for the workday. "You like honey?"

Harry wills himself not to blush because he'd forgotten about the jars he snatched from the treat basket. His eyes catch on the sticker he'd gotten from the man a few days back, and he quickly covers it up. "Yes, I do enjoy it."

"I know how to make a bee-friendly version. I learned from Jordy, he used to make it with his husband."

"How does one make honey bee-friendly?"

"It's hard to explain, but it involves dandelions. I'll make you some, and if you like it, we can make another batch together."

"Is this your way of planning a second date?"

Louis' head ducked down into his shoulders. "If you're … up for it."

With a glance down at his watch Harry notes that it's getting close to the time for Louis to leave. He joins the man in the middle of his office and grabs him just as firmly as he had back in his apartment. "I might be."

"Okay," Louis says, nodding gently before leaning his head back. "Goodbye kiss?"

Harry doesn't make Louis wonder or wait, just kisses him with a deep burning that makes the shorter male's knees tremble. It's languid, but hard, just enough for them both to want more. "I'll walk you out, and if you write your number down, I'll let you know about a second date."

"O-Okay." Louis pants, forehead pressed to Harry's chest.