sequel to this lil fic. as always everything is fake!
—
“There he is!” Nick says, letting Niall in. It’s half-eight the next night and Niall’s got two plastic bags full of Nick’s favorite Greek food balanced on one arm, a duffel bag over the other. “The Irish playboy-”
“Shut it,” Niall says warningly. Nick shuts the door, but not his mouth.
“Seriously, what a wake-up this morning. My producer is dead convinced you and Laura Whitmore are three minutes from popping out adorable blonde babies. Ohh-” Nick puts on a terrible Irish accent. “De cute little Irish babies with de little Irish button noses and freckles-”
“That is so fucking bad, mate.” Niall laughs despite himself, reaching into one of the bags and feeding Nick a bite of pita. It shuts him up for a minute, at least.
“You would have cute babies, though,” Nick says, once he’s swallowed. He takes one of the bags from Niall’s hands, starts to spread its contents over the dining room table. “I’m serious.”
“We’re not planning to, I’m pretty sure,” Niall says. “But I’ll let her know.”
Nick goes to fetch plates, and Niall slides into a chair, reaches for a styrofoam box. Chicken kebab and rice, which is Nick’s. Niall flicks it shut again and reaches for the other box.
“Thanks for dinner, Horan,” Nick says, passing him a fork. “You’re a star.”
They eat in (relative) silence for a few minutes, Nick telling work stories around mouthfuls of rice and hummus. Niall notices he doesn’t mention the night before - dinner at Rita’s, Harry sleeping over. It’s all Niall can bloody think about, and the absence is glaring.
“So,” he says finally, reaching over to steal a piece of Nick’s grilled veg. “How was last night?”
“I should be asking you that,” Nick says, pointing his fork at him. “Stumbling around town with a blonde bombshell. God, would you jump in my grave that quick?”
“I- what?” Niall snorts. “What does that mean?”
Nick wrinkles his nose. “I’m not actually sure. Me mum says it.”
“Ring up Eileen, let’s ask her.”
Nick pulls a face at him and swallows a bite of chicken. Niall glances up at him, then down at his plate.
“We’re not sleeping together,” he says. “Me and Laura. Just, like, so you know.”
Nick shrugs. “Wouldn’t matter if you were.”
“We’re not. She’s like my sister.” Niall stabs a piece of lamb. “She actually wasn’t too happy with me for grabbing onto her last night.”
“But holding hands with a member of 1D as you fall drunkenly out of a club is a rite of passage. We’ve all done it. We’ve all been violently harassed by teenage girls on Twitter the next day.”
Niall looks up at him sharply, but Nick’s reaching over for more pita and not paying attention.
“Anyway,” Nick says as he straightens up. “Speaking of 1D, or- formerly of-” he pauses for a wince, and Niall holds very still until Nick speaks again. “Or, you know what I mean, whatever. Last night was fun! Rita can’t cook so she ordered Nobu and a million bottles of sake. Which, like, I don’t like sake that much. I kinda feel like it just tastes like white wine. Or like a mix of white wine and beer? But everyone pretends to love it so much, it’s weird. Oh god, that reminds me, one time at uni we had no mixers so we made a red wine and vodka punch, heavy on the vodka, put like two lemons in it and told people it was sangria, and every single person who attended puked. Every single person. Most of them in our back garden, which was pleasant the next morning-”
“Grimmy,” Niall says, patiently, trying not to laugh. “Last night.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. God, you’re bossier than my producer. So we had sushi and got a bit drunk and chatted. It was nice.”
Niall looks down, dragging his fork through his rice. “Harry stayed over?”
“He did, yeah.” Nick reaches for the baklava. “We watched the Simpsons and fell asleep at half ten. Kendall got in this morning, so he left after to meet up with her.”
“Do you know her?” Niall asks, putting a piece of lamb in his mouth.
“No, never met. She seems sweet though.” Nick waggles a hand. “You know, in a Kardashian-y way. I love them though, they’re mental, oh my god. I’ve interviewed Khloe and Kim a couple times. Harry assures me Kendall’s the exception to the completely-crazy rule but like, you’d have to be a bit fucked-up to be in that family right? Cameras on you all the time, no privacy, even when she was an awkward teenager-”
“Bit like X Factor,” Niall says wryly, and Nick raises an eyebrow, nods.
“True. Maybe that’s why they cliiicked. Overexposed reality show babies.”
He laughs. “God, if there’d been a camera on me at fifteen - tragic. First of all I would have fully loved it because I was a vain little twat even though I looked like a potato.”
“Was?” Niall breathes, and Nick flicks a piece of phyllo dough at him, sticking out his tongue.
“But really, I think I was just born into the wrong family. I essentially have the soul of a Kardashian.”
Niall snorts. “I wouldn’t brag about that, mate.”
“Heyy, your boy’s dating one, be nice. Friends support friends’ relationships with questionable people, even Kardashians.”
“My boy,” Niall mutters. “Ha.”
Nick arches an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push. It’s nice how he does that sometimes, lets something go, even when Niall doesn’t ask.
“So other than dragging your new girlfriend into a cab and ravishing her, what’d you do last night?”
Niall flicks him off, and Nick kicks him under the table, laughing.
“Not much. A fashion thing at Claridge’s, I dunno, Laura knew about it.” He thinks of the end of the night, cab idling outside Nick’s flat at an ungodly hour. No need for Nick to hear about that particular mental break. “She texted me after we left and said she tried to melt cheese onto popcorn and nearly set her flat on fire.”
“Ohh my god,” Nick laughs. “What a classy lady.”
“Right?”
“I’ve melted cheese onto so many things while drunk. It’s like all the Northern comes out in me and I’m just desperate for cheese and gravy. One time I’m pretty sure I melted brie onto a Jaffa Cake.”
“That could be good, actually.”
“I was going for like a sweet-savory thing.”
“I’d try that.”
“Thank you!” Nick says. “I’ll test a new cheese/biscuit combination out on you next time we’re pissed.”
“Cheers, mate.”
They grin at each other for a minute until Nick looks away to grab another piece of baklava.
“Pass me one?”
“Mmhm,” Nick mumbles, mouth full, and Niall takes the piece, licks honey off his fingers. “There you go.”
—
Nick rinses their dishes while Niall sits on his counter, scrolling through Twitter. Sugarscape’s got a full breakdown of his night with Laura, along with photos of every other time they’ve hung out in the past six years, it seems like.
He opens up a text- Hope ur not getting too much shit about last night. Ill buy you dinner soon (and try not to make it seem like a date haha) Love u Xx
He doesn’t realize Nick’s craning over him to see his screen until Nick says, “God, it’s mental what they’ll run with, isn’t it?”
Niall swallows hard and nods. He can’t play dumb, though, he knew it’d happen. Some little awful part of his drunken brain just wanted a couple rumors to start. He’s been going out with Nick a lot, enough that the tabloids have started making all these comparisons with him and Harry, lining their faces up along with pictures of them stumbling out of bars on Nick’s arm.
Sometimes Niall thinks it’s obvious, that they’re sleeping together. That people should just guess already and save Niall the trouble of having to, like, come out, or talk about it. And then sometimes Niall can’t bloody breathe, thinking about anyone sussing it out.
“You’re not mad, are you?” he says, weird and sudden into the quiet. Nick looks up from the phone screen.
“No,” he says, huffing a laugh. “Do I seem mad?”
“No, I just.” Niall shrugs. “I dunno. It’s annoying.”
“I’m not mad.” Nick nudges his phone aside, steps between Niall’s legs, slides his arms around Niall’s shoulders. “Seriously. C'mon, you know Harry and I used to- y'know. If I got angry over every rumor about a girl in the papers I’d be fully crazy by now.”
He presses a kiss to Niall’s mouth and steps back, grabbing for the detergent under the sink.
“What happened?” Niall asks. “With you and Harry? Like. Why’d you stop?”
Nick’s back stiffens for a split second, before he keeps pouring detergent. They haven’t talked about it much. Maybe ever.
“He just got a bit bored,” he says eventually, back still turned. “Nothing too dramatic.”
Niall’s hands clench on the countertop, nervously. “Of you?”
“Me. London. All of it, I guess.” Nick shrugs. “It’s not his fault. It all seemed very shiny and fascinating when he was eighteen, I s'pose.”
He turns the dishwasher on, turns around to face Niall.
“That makes him sound awful, though. He’s not. You know how he is, he’s lovely.” Nick’s eyes slide away from him, and he huffs a breath and grabs a glass, fills it from the sink. “He’s a genuinely good person. I’m just one of those weirdos who keeps the same friends for twenty years. No new frieeends.”
“Mm,” Niall says dully, cos he hasn’t got the energy for anything else. It’s true, which is the worst bit. Harry is a good person. He just makes Niall want to punch him sometimes.
“But yeah, just got over it, I guess. Also, he really fancies women. Like we had fun, I’m not saying that, but I always felt like we’d have a bit more fun if I had a cunt and not a cock.”
Niall’s face goes hot and he looks away. He wonders what Nick thinks of him. When they sleep together, Niall’s not thinking of a girl, or wishing Nick had anything other than a cock. Not one fucking bit.
Nick sighs, rinsing his hands. They’re still damp when he puts them on Niall’s jaw, draws him into a kiss that gets dirty fast, open-mouthed and messy right there in the brightly-lit kitchen. Nick tastes like honey and he’s not even touching any other part of him but Niall’s quivering anyway, feeling it all the way to his toes.
Nick bites at Niall’s bottom lip, laves his tongue over it, and Niall huffs a breath that’s too close to a moan.
"Mm,” Nick murmurs, sounding amused as he puts one hand over Niall’s dick, half-hard in his jeans. “You get all worked up just from a snog, I like it.”
Niall noses at his cheek until Nick opens his mouth and kisses him again, sucking his tongue until Niall groans, squirming closer. He’s a brilliant kisser. Makes it feel like sex. Niall can be doing fuck-all, at the gym or out with the lads, wedged into the back of a booth at the local drinking a pint, and he’ll go bright red just thinking about Nick kissing him.
“Bed,” Nick says, hands fit around Niall’s hips now. He gives a little squeeze. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Niall breathes, sliding off the counter, both of them staggering back, off-balance. “Let’s go.”
—
Niall wakes up in Nick’s empty bed to Pig snuffling against his back and a long string of texts from Liam.
Mateeeee im havin tea at mine
Curry? ?? or pizza? Hmmmm [pizza emoji] [rice emoji]
Tonight I meant to say!!! 7pm. Harrys comng w/ kendle. Tommos in LA
Soph may or may not be there [sunglasses emoji]
I cnt believe she told you we were back 2gether
[five blushing emojis]
Sersiously tho u better come I havent even seen you in 10 years too busy hanging out with Grimmy!!!!
Bring beer! See you tonight 7PM Be there or be [poo emoji]
Niall tosses his phone away and reaches to turn on the radio. He catches Nick during a link, rambling about some film he saw at the weekend, and he grins and turns it up.
Pig lifts her head, sleepy and curious.
“I know, that’s your dad on radio,” Niall murmurs, scritching behind her ears. “He’ll be home soon.”
Pig whines at the radio, and Niall laughs, pats her head and rolls out of bed. He’s poking at a couple scrambled eggs in a frypan when his phone buzzes.
Im serios u better come mate! If u make up some xcuse Im never letting u over to use the indoor pool again [swimming emoji]
Niall rolls his eyes, types one-handed.
Yea I’ll be there !
Liam sends back seven party hat emojis and the face with glasses, and Niall spends so long debating some sort of Just so you know harry and i havent spoken text that his eggs burn. In the end he doesn’t send anything.
—
Dinner isn’t bad at first. Liam’s excited enough to see them that he babbles enough to cover for the auspicious lack of conversation between Niall and Harry. They exchange words exactly twice - once when Harry asks Niall to pass the fish tikka, and then-
“You been over to meet the baby yet?”
“No.” Harry looks away from him, brow furrowed. “Not yet.”
After dinner Niall lingers to pour himself another beer, comes out to see the four of them lined up on the sofa - Sophia with a hand on Liam’s thigh, Kendall perched on Harry’s lap, leaning back to kiss him with an easiness that makes Niall feel weird.
He shakes it off, sinks into an armchair. “Fifth wheel, I see how it is, thanks.”
They all groan in faux-pity, and he raises his middle finger.
“Y'know who you should have brought,” Liam says, eyebrows waggling. “Selena.”
Everyone oohs, and Niall huffs a laugh. “Selena’s not in London.”
“Oh, nice excuse,” Kendall says, grinning at him. Harry’s not laughing, but his mouth is curled halfway up in easy amusement, fingers spread wide against Kendall’s hip under her shirt. He’s got no clue. Niall’s glad, cos that means Nick didn’t let anything slip.
“Seriously, though, what happened with that?” Liam continues, sipping his beer. “I swear, this is what he does all the time. Actually has a good chance with a cool bird and then he goes ghost.”
“Fuck you,” Niall says lightly, pulling a face. Sophia’s quiet, watching him with her face utterly blank, and Niall has to look away. She knows - stuff. Stuff Liam would probably know by now if he weren’t so bloody dense.
“You should call her,” Kendall suggests, eyes lighting up. “Right now. Ask her out!”
“That’s a ridiculous idea,” Sophia breathes.
Kendall’s eyes narrow. “Uh, I was kidding.”
Sophia ignores that and takes a sip of her drink.
“That’d be hilarious,” Liam laughs, oblivious. “Oh my god, mate, you should. She fancied you.”
“Maybe after another beer,” Niall lies, hoisting himself upright. “Anyone want anything?”
Head-shakes all around, so Niall gets the fuck out of there.
The kitchen’s quiet. Niall fills a glass of water and gulps it down, pulls out his phone.
Fifth wheel at this dinner right now ha
Can i come over after this ?
He sends it off to Nick, a smile tugging at his mouth. It’s not as bad as it usually is to sit there and let Liam talk at him, cos he’s actually got somewhere to go afterwards.
“Hey,” he hears, and he wheels around to see Harry in the doorway, eyes dark.
“Hey,” Niall says, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Want a beer?”
“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Harry slides onto a stool at the counter. “How’ve you been?”
Niall turns his back to fumble for a bottle in the fridge. He can feel his neck burning. “Good. Fine. How are you?”
“Good,” Harry mumbles. “Like- like what’ve you been up to?”
Fucking your best friend, Niall thinks, and he has to school his face into indifference even as his stomach twists excitedly at the thought of just saying it flat out. “Not much. You’re the busy one, aren’t you?”
It comes out surprisingly mean. When he turns around Harry’s looking at his clasped hands, brow furrowed.
“If you’re mad,” he says slowly. “Why don’t you just tell me so we can actually talk about it?”
“I’m not mad.” The lie makes his throat hurt.
“It’s not exactly fair,” Harry says, looking up at him. “To just start ignoring me without talking about it. Not healthy, either. Like if we don’t talk through stuff-”
“Save the LA touchy-feely bullshit, Haz,” Niall says, voice coming out light even as he burns with anger. Healthy. Fuck off. “Not everything has to be some kinda therapy session.”
“I just want to talk,” Harry says, looking heated for the first time all night. It gives Niall some odd satisfaction, making Harry mad. “Cos you’re probably seeing a lot of shite about me that’s making you angry and it’s not all my fault. I know the papers have been, like, full of shit.”
Put in his time. Reap the rewards. Obvious standout. Star of the show. Finally, it’s time for the world to hear the real Harry Styles.
Niall shrugs. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”
“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters. “You know what the fuck I’m talking about, don’t be a twat.”
Niall’s eyes narrow. “Wow, mate, that’s not very zen of you.”
A muscle in Harry’s jaw clenches and he draws in a deep steadying breath.
“Fine,” he says. “I can’t talk to you if you don’t want to hear what I’m saying.”
“You haven’t said anything.”
“Because you won’t let me!”
Niall’s eyes catch Kendall’s as she appears in the doorway, and he looks away fast, fumbling for his beer. Harry doesn’t turn around until she slides a hand onto his back.
“Hey, baby,” she says. “Thought you got lost or something. Also Liam and Sophie are making out and I was like, awkwardly watching.”
“Sorry,” Harry says, distracted. Niall can’t look at him. “Just catching up.”
She squeezes his shoulders with both hands for a minute, but her eyes are on Niall, steady and cool. Niall’s really got no clue what she’s thinking, or how much Harry has told her.
“How’s life post-1D, Niall?” she asks, manicured thumbs massaging where Harry’s neck meets his shoulders. “The weather here is so depressing, honestly, like, you should come to LA.”
“Don’t mind it,” Niall says stiltedly.
“I mean, London is super fun, I get it, it’s just too fucking cold. You’ve been going out a lot with Harry’s friend, haven’t you? The reporter?”
“Radio DJ,” Harry says, just as Niall says, “He’s on radio.” They catch eyes for an uncomfortable moment.
“Yeah, yes, him. I keep seeing that on Twitter. I’m blanking on his name though. Oh my god, there’s this one photo of my sisters and he’s like, photobombing in the back, and it’s so fucking funny.”
“It’s Nick,” Niall says. Harry’s fiddling with his phone, now, like he’s over the whole conversation.
“Niick. Right. Babe, you stayed at his place last night, right?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, still not looking up. Niall has to fight not to glare at him.
“We should get dinner or something,” Kendall says. “Us four. Before we fly out. I kinda wanna meet him, he seems hilarious.”
Niall looks up at her quickly. Us four. She’s looking at him, head tilted, utterly innocent.
“I think there’s a thing tomorrow night,” Harry says. “So I dunno.”
“Yeah, I’ve got- a thing too,” Niall says lamely.
Kendall raises her eyebrows. “Oookay, never mind then.” She ruffles her hand through Harry’s hair. “You wanna go back to the hotel and meet up with Jeff and Glenne? I’m like kind of scared to go back in there. Don’t wanna see too much. No offense to them, both super hot people, but, like.” She snorts.
“Sure,” Harry says, straightening up, and Kendall waves at him.
“Really good to see you,” she says. “I know Harry’s been looking forward to it, right, babe? Band reunion.”
Harry just smiles at him, tight. “Yeah.”
“Good to see you too,” Niall says politely. He can feel the strain in his jaw from clenching it. “Have a great rest of your trip.”
—
He’s halfway to Nick’s when Nick finally texts back.
Mates are over we had dinner but yes come! we’ve got fancy chicken Xx
Niall sends back three chicken leg emojis and shoves the phone into his pocket.
Nick swings the door wide open, face red from what Niall’s assuming is a healthy amount of wine. “Hiiiiiya, Horan! Come in, come in.”
He pecks a little kiss to the side of Niall’s mouth once the door’s firmly shut behind him. Niall can hear laughter in the living room, and the air smells of garlic and onions. He had a curry at Liam’s but his stomach rumbles anyway.
“I need to hear every detail of this surprise couples tea,” Nick laughs, dragging him down the hall. “You know that’s my entire life, by the way. Just sitting there while couples do cute things.”
Niall snorts and waves at the people sprawled out over Nick’s sofa. Pixie, Aimee, Ian, Daisy, he knows them, and then a bloke with an amazing jawline and a big mouth who looks like he just stepped out of a fashion shoot, holding a glass of wine.
“Niall, come help me kick Ian’s ass,” Aimee says, beckoning him over.
“What’re you playing?”
“It’s kind of like gin rummy,” Daisy says, frowning thoughtfully at her cards. “But for more than two people. With like a bit of Go Fish.”
“That’s a weirdly accurate description, Daize,” Jawline Guy says in a posh accent, chuckling. He looks up at Niall, extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Douglas, by the way. I can’t move, I’ve had too much wine, I’m sorry.”
Niall snorts and leans over the sofa to shake his hand. “Niall. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Douglas lets go, whines when Daisy puts a card down. “I hate you, I was going to play that.”
Daisy grins and smacks a kiss on his cheek.
“I don’t get all the rules but I’m definitely winning.” Aimee peeks over Ian’s shoulder at his cards and he gasps, shoving her away.
“Come have chicken first, I made it myself,” Nick whines, grabbing at Niall’s hand. “Well, Daisy helped, even though it goes against her morals as a vegetarian. Apparently it’s more important to keep me from fucking up dinner than it is to save the animals or whatever.”
He yanks a dish out of the fridge, hands Niall a chicken thigh and starts pouring him a glass of wine.
“How’s Haz?”
Niall pauses mid-bite, licking oil off his fingers. “He’s fine.”
“Did you talk?” Nick hands him the wine. “He said you haven’t spoken in a while.”
Niall huffs a sour laugh, tears off another bite with his teeth. “We talked.”
“Oh. Good. I think good? Your face says maybe not good.” Nick reaches into the fridge again. “You want salad?”
“No thanks.”
Nick leans against the counter, reaches over for a piece of chicken for himself. “He misses you. Normally I wouldn’t get involved, cos, like, not my business. But you’re kinda my business right now, so.”
He winks and puts a scrap of chicken in his mouth, and Niall rolls his eyes.
“It was fine,” he says, sipping his wine. “Don’t really feel like talking about it, if you don’t mind.”
Nick shrugs, eyes steady on his, and then turns back to pour himself more wine. “Fine. Come play cards then.”
“I can stay over, yeah?” Niall asks, swallowing.
Nick smiles at him, head tilting, and reaches out to put his hand in Niall’s hair. He tips Niall’s head back, leans in to slowly kiss his bottom lip and then the quivering skin of his throat, his lips grazing gently, breath sweet with wine. When he lets go Niall feels an actual pang of loss, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Yeah,” Nick says, looking a bit pleased with himself. He pats Niall’s arse and ducks past him out of the kitchen. “You can stay.”
—
They’re both a little drunk and a lot knackered when the last person (Daisy) straggles out of Nick’s flat, stumbling up the steps to her waiting cab. Niall starts clearing up the living room as Nick locks the door, and Nick sighs a laugh when he comes back down the hall to see Niall with an armful of empty glasses and a couple mismatched decks of cards
“You don’t have to do that, weirdo. You’re the worst guest. Or the best guest, I guess. Actually, continue.”
Niall snorts, carries everything to the kitchen and starts washing up. He’s never minded a bit of dish-washing. It was his favorite chore as a kid. That and a good vacuuming. He wouldn’t say it out loud to anyone, but it’s relaxing for some reason.
“God, you’re helpful,” Nick says, squeezing his shoulder as he pads into the kitchen with two empty wine bottles in each hand.
“Don’t mind it. The cleaning, I mean.”
“Aren’t you gonna make a good husband someday.” Nick laughs. “God, I hate it. Soon as I could afford it, I hired a cleaner.”
“Oh c’mon, mate, this place is tiny.”
“There are a million weird things to dust, though,” Nick says, leaning against the counter next to him. Niall beckons at his glass of water and Nick hands it over, refills it once Niall’s gulped it down. “And wood floors are hard. Don’t tell me you actually clean your own place.”
“Course I do.” Niall kicks his ankle, swings the dishwasher shut. “Unless I’m on tour or somethin’.”
“Which is always. Or, you know, was always. You’ve really been cleaning it this whole year so far?”
“I like doing it,” Niall laughs. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You’re so lazy,” Niall says, but he can’t control his grin when Nick leans into him, presses a little kiss right behind Niall’s ear.
“I’m tiired,” he sighs pitifully. “And I’ve got work tomorrow, somehow. I swear this is the longest week ever. Shall we turn in?”
Niall tips his head back and lets Nick kiss him on the mouth, a real kiss.
“Yeah,” he says. “Let me just finish these.”
“Alright, Mrs. Doubtfire, see you in a bit.”
He ducks out of the kitchen and Niall snorts to himself. Mrs. Doubtfire. And Niall’s the weirdo.
–
“A date has been set,” Nick reads dramatically off his Ipad, Niall sprawled out on his belly next to him in bed, staring blearily at his phone. “For the date that the date of Harry Styles’ album release will be announced. Wait, so. A date has been set just for the release to be announced? Oh my god. Way to build the hype, Hazza.”
He laughs to himself.
“Genuinely can’t think of anything less interesting,” Niall says, meaning to say it lightly, but it comes out with just a bit too sharp of an edge. He can feel Nick look over at him, and he stares pointedly at his phone, reaching back to tug the sheet over his arse.
“Nothing less interesting? Really?” Nick nudges him with his knee. “C’monnn.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Niall says, flicking through Instagram furiously. “Any articles about Harry and Kendall on there? That could beat it.”
Nick goes quiet. The silence is taut and Niall wants to say I’m joking, I’m sorry, but he can’t quite open up his throat enough. He just glares at his phone.
“Not trying to be a complete arsehole, love,” Nick says, slowly. “But people are gonna pick up on it if you seem bitter. And it won’t come off very well. It never does.”
Niall almost laughs, because it’s so ridiculous. Really original advice, to not tell people when he’s mad at the others. He’s never heard that before, in the past five years where they had to act like best fucking mates every fucking second.
“Don’t be mad at me,” Nick says, poking at Niall’s hip.
“I’m not. Just.” Niall does laugh then. “You think I don’t know how to hide what the fuck I’m feeling? You thought I was straight til like two months ago.”
He can’t look at Nick. His throat’s hot.
“No one knows I’m into blokes,” he says thickly. “And no one’ll know I want to punch Harry in the goddamn face sometimes. It’s fine.”
Nick looks uncomfortable. Course he does, they’re not the type who does this. They fuck around and they have a good time. None of this - messy shit. “Alright.”
Niall lets out a shaking breath. He’s starting to feel the slightest bit panicky, which is something that really, really can’t happen in front of Nick. “Sorry.”
“No, uh, no worries.” Nick runs a hand through his hair, swipes something on his Ipad. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
Niall nods, too many times, and then he climbs off the bed and goes into Nick’s en suite and shuts the door.
“Just a minute,” he says behind him, and Nick says something he can’t hear over the rushing in his ears.
The door locks with a thunk and Niall looks in the mirror, tries to breathe deep, He can’t look at his own reflection without feeling worse than before. Shit.
He’s sitting on the closed toilet, sipping water from a paper cup and kneading his toes into Nick’s fluffy bathmat, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse.
“I need a wee,” Nick says, muffled. “Are you, uh-”
Niall stands up so fast his head spins, dropping the empty cup in the bin. He yanks the door open.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Nick says. Niall tries to duck past him but Nick stops him, a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.”
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, don’t lie,” Nick sighs. “Normally I wouldn’t mind because I also hate talking about feelings, but, like. Don’t hold back just cos Harry’s my mate.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t-” Niall stops, draws in a long breath. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”
“God,” Nick murmurs, sliding his arms around Niall’s shoulders until they’re in an awkward sideways hug, Niall’s face pressed to Nick’s arm. “I did not know you were this moody.”
Niall chokes a laugh that sounds like a sob. That’s the point, isn’t it? No one knows.
“Oh, shh,” Nick mumbles, rubbing his back. “Let’s have a breakdown in bed, not the doorway of the toilet, what d’you think.”
“I’m not- having a breakdown,” Niall says thickly, following Nick back towards the bed. Nick doesn’t let go of him, so they stagger awkwardly like a three-legged race. “Thought you needed to piss.”
“Lied. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Nick pulls him down til they’re sat at the edge of the bed, Niall’s head on his shoulder. “See, I can lie too.”
Niall laughs again, and then he does cry a tiny bit, choked and sudden, into Nick’s warm bare shoulder. Nick rubs his back and sounds scared when he says, “It’s alright, it’s alright, love. You’re fine.”
“Sorry,” Niall mumbles, as soon as he’s got the composure to speak. He straightens up. His face is burning, sweat damp on his forehead. He probably looks a mess. “Sorry.”
“For snotting in my chest hair? You’re forgiven.” Nick leans over to fetch a tissue.
Niall wobbles out a laugh. They’re quiet for a minute, Nick absently dabbing at his chest with the tissue. It takes a while for Niall to work up the will to speak.
“The thing is, like, he promised. He promised me he’d be back. With all of us.”
It’s more than he’s ever said out loud. Nick looks at him.
“Harry?”
Niall shrugs. Nods. He scrubs at his eyes with one hand and crawls back into bed before Nick can figure something out just by staring at him.
Nick sighs and tosses the tissue in the bin, reaches out to turn off the lamp.
“Oh, Haz,” he says wearily, tugging the duvet up over himself. “He likes to promise things, doesn’t he.”
“Doesn’t mean shit,” Niall says, squeezing his eyes shut.
“It does, though.” Nick runs a hand through Niall’s hair. “Means he cared enough to want to make a promise at the time. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.”
He sounds wry and exhausted.
“The thing is, I really think he means it,” he says quietly. “When he’s all emo over something and he’s like, blah blah, forever, blah blah. But then the moment passes and he doesn’t feel that way anymore and - and he’s not the self-sacrificing type, is he?”
Niall can’t say anything.
“His follow-through’s a bit shit.” Nick huffs a laugh. “But, like. This is happening, you know? And it’s Harry, so it’s not gonna fizzle out. You can be mad as long as you like but it won’t change things and it won’t make him stop.”
He sighs. “I dunno if that’s good advice.”
Niall doesn’t know either. It probably is, but at the minute he doesn’t want to hear it.
“Maybe I’m not supposed to tell you this, I dunno, but. He’s bloody bricking it, about the album. About everything. He’s terrified.” Nick rests a hand on Niall’s thigh. “He needs you.”
Niall shakes his head.
“Yes, he does. I’m serious. He needs his mates more than ever now so he doesn’t go into a crazy diva spiral and start, like, walking offstage cos someone was on their phone instead of watching him perform. Or like fight Zayn Malik at an awards show.”
“God.” Niall snorts wetly, rubs his nose with his wrist. “Shut up, mate.”
“He’d probably give a lecture on how social media is like, stifling our generation or summat. That’s the Harry Styles version of a diva fit, just a long boring talk about morals.”
Niall chokes a laugh and Nick echoes it, slides down into bed.
“I think the really annoying bit,” he says, turning over halfway til he’s got one long leg between Niall’s. He rocks forward, just a little, and Niall slides a hand onto his back, gives him a squeeze and a pat, Nick squirming forward on top of him with a muffled little hnhh. Nick’s got these soft bits - his hips and the dimples in his lower back, not to mention the nice curve of his bum. He doesn’t mind Niall playing with them. “Mmm. The really annoying bit is how much fucking energy it takes to be mad at him. And time, ugh, it takes so much time. It’s a lot easier to just, like, take it as it comes.”
He leans down, face close. Niall can see the pockmark below his eye, the spray of freckles across his nose.
“This is embarrassing, but, like.” Nick shrugs. “I used to want to be his favorite person. You ever had that feeling?”
He laughs like it’s a joke, but Niall knows him a bit, and it’s not. Niall also knows Harry. He knew Harry back when Harry and Nick first snapped together like magnets, like they’d known each other their whole lives. He remembers the phone calls on tour, Harry murmuring in his bunk, laughing about every ten seconds, it seemed like. Just Nick, he’d say later, when Liam would ask him who the hell he was talking to.
Niall still remembers the look on his face when he said it. Soft and the tiniest bit smug. Nick was his favorite person back then. Niall doesn’t relay that information though, cos he’s a horrible selfish person.
God, even back then, Niall wanted - something. Whether it was Harry or Nick or just the mumble of a secret conversation behind closed curtains, he’s not sure, but he wanted it.
Nick’s starting to kiss his neck, bracing himself with an elbow next to Nick’s head.
“You’re my favorite when you - when you do that, with your mouth,” Niall says stupidly, sliding his hand up into Nick’s hair.
Nick sucks a long kiss against Niall’s pulse. “This?”
“Mm. Lower.” Niall snorts when he feels Nick laugh against him.
Nick ducks down to put his mouth on Niall’s nipple, looking up at him with big eyes, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. Niall’s stomach twists hot, and his legs splay around Nick’s thigh, hitching upward.
“There?”
“Close,” he manages to say hoarsely, and Nick’s lashes flutter as he bends his head again, sliding his mouth down Niall’s belly.
“Oh,” Nick murmurs, his thumbs in the hollows of Niall’s hipbones. He nuzzles his mouth against Niall’s prick, half-hard in his briefs. Exhales hot against it. “There? That what you meant?”
Niall can’t stop staring at him. He’s shaking already, and Nick hasn’t done anything. It’s just all hitting at once - the night, the fight with Harry. Kendall’s half-amused gaze when she said Us four. What the fuck did she mean by that? Maybe she’s figured out what Harry’s too thick to understand. Maybe it’s obvious.
Nick draws down his briefs, grinning when Niall’s prick springs up. He runs his fingers back up Niall’s thighs until he’s cradling his hips in his hands, mouth right there, hot and wet.
“Yeah,” Niall says belatedly, lamely. He swallows, throat dry. “Fuck. There.”
Nick slides his mouth down and stops teasing.
Niall’s head thunks against the mattress and there’s nothing in his head, not Harry or Kendall or anything. Just Nick. His eyes flutter happily shut.