hands clasped tight: coming oct 23 for the @1dreversebang
Harry turns up the charm a few notches, flashing Jack a dimpled smile. He’s a nice guy, really, one that Harry can see himself grabbing a few beers with after work. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome, as well as funny and kind to boot. He almost feels a little bad he’s mostly using him to make Louis jealous.
“Wait, hang on,” Harry says, touching Jack’s forearm gently. “I’ve got a hotel recommendation for you if you want it.”
Jack smiles. “Yes, absolutely.”
Jack pulls out his own phone, just as Harry expected he would, and as he reads off the name of the hotel for him to write down, Louis excuses himself from the conversation with Steve and makes his way through the crowd, just like Harry knew he would.
“Thanks so much,” Jack says, pocketing his phone. “I’ve really been looking forward to going there for years.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Harry says. “I think you’ll really enjoy your stay there.”
Jack is just starting to reply when a warm hand winds its way around Harry’s waist.
“Hello, dear, I was just beginning to wonder where you’d gone off to,” Louis says sweetly, and he turns to Jack. “Hi, I’m Louis. Harry’s husband. Who are you?”
To his credit, Jack doesn’t falter. “Hi, I’m Jack. Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Louis says. His tone is agreeable, but Harry’s spent the last six years with Louis; he can detect the possessiveness that undercuts his words, feels it in the way that he digs his fingers into Harry’s waist the tiniest bit. “Harry, can I talk to you about something for a minute?”
“I can go,” Jack says, clearly sensing the tension. “Was just getting ready for a refill anyway.”
Louis shakes his head and turns back to Harry, eyes dark. “That’s okay. We’ll find a place. Nice meeting you, hope you enjoy the rest of the party.”
Something builds in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he bids goodbye to Jack and follows Louis out of the living room. It might be nerves, it might be arousal; all he knows is he kind of likes it. When they get to the kitchen, Louis turns on his heel suddenly, crowding Harry back against the counter.
“What are you doing?” he hisses, jaw set tight.
Harry shrugs. “Socializing? Making new friends?”
Louis frowns. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
Harry swallows and looks at the floor, then back at Louis’ face. They’re pressed close together in the quiet kitchen, the only noise that of the thumping music coming a few rooms over. “It’s just chatting.”
“Mhm. Flirting with this random guy you just met? Is this your idea of keeping it fresh?” His tone is pure jealousy now, and Harry loves watching him get heated.
“You’re not the only good looking guy here, you know.”
“Stop fucking with me until we get home,” Louis says, voice commanding, mouth close to Harry’s ear. The sound of it sends goosebumps scattering across Harry’s skin.
“You’re not the boss of me,” Harry says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I think I do,” Louis hisses. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you need to stop.”
Harry raises an eyebrow. “Why, is it working?”
Harry leans in to whisper in Louis’ ear, just as he brings his hand down to trail his fingers lightly across the crotch of Louis’ jeans. “Sure seems like it is. Seems like you’re pissed off and turned on and jealous.”
The next moment passes in a blur: Louis lets out a strangled whine, mutters a curse, and then grasps Harry’s wrist firmly and drags him down the hall. Harry follows without thinking; neither of them have been here before and they have no idea where they’re going, but thankfully the first door that Louis tries is the bathroom. He shoves Harry inside, locking the door behind them.