five | i've literally got (two left feet)

"Have you ever been flamenco dancing?" Harry asks me as we eat breakfast in our (oh my god; his) room. This time he took the liberty of making food, settling with breakfast burritos and churros. He honestly didn't do so bad, so maybe he didn't lie about being the experienced chef he is. Might as well just add that to the never ending list of things Harry manages to be great at. Cooking, laughing, talking, walking, breathing-- wait. He just asked me about flamenco dancing. More specifically, dancing.

For the past two days, we've been playing it lazy. I only have three more days left; one was spent out on the town, and the other three were spent in Harry's house, bumming with the occasional make out session in between hours. I even got my stuff from the hotel (or I didn't; one of Harry's many workers did) I would love to check out some of the culture, but I can't dance for my life.

Harry probably can, considering he seems to be able to do everything. That bitch can probably raise the dead.

"No," I groan, "Oh god please don't tell me you're taking me dancing."

"I'm not taking you dancing." He grins as he cuts his burrito in half (weirdo) and I sigh in relief.

"Oh thank god," I sigh in relief, "because I cannot dance at all."

"That sucks," he smirks, "because I'm taking you dancing."

"What?! But you--"

"I was telling you what you wanted to hear!"

"Dick move Styles," I mumble, "dick move."

"Come on," he whines, tilting the bed as he moves closer to me on the bed, holding me as he cuddles his nose into my neck. It seems to be a tendency now, because no matter what we were doing, or where we were, his nose always found a way to my neck.

It's cute honestly, but it got me thinking about if I had any tendencies with him. The way I seem to follow him around like a hopeless puppy dog no matter where I go could be one.

"Mm, fine," I sigh, "what time?"

"We leave at noon, and we'll get there soon after one."

"Why so far away?"

"Because," I hear his voice quiver, "the house is kind of far from Barcelona."

"Why bother seclude yourself?"

"Reasons."

I shrug it off, not wanting to argue with Harry about his choice of location. He offers me a bite of his burrito and I deny, full from my own. Plus I'd feel bad taking his food, even if he's offering it.

"Can I ask you something Liam?"

"Of course," I say, slightly nervous for what he's going to ask. Is he going to propose? Wait no, it's been three days.

"Do you trust me?"

"I..." I don't know how to answer that, because there's actually a lot of ways to answer his question. I could trust him with my life, as in, if I were to be in danger, I could trust him to come help. I wouldn't be able to trust him with my heart though, with my body, actually loving me on a spiritual level. There's so many ways trust branches off, so I leave him at a crossroad.

"I don't know," I respond, "I guess it depends on situation."

"Then I'll give you one."

He taps his chin, rocking back and forth in the bed as he thinks of an acceptable situation. I bite my lip, trying to hide my stupid grin as he acts in such an adorable manner.

God, am I this whipped already?

"Okay, what if you fell off a building; would you be willing enough to trust me to catch you?"

"Of course," I respond, "that was a dumb example, you know."

"Yeah I know," he sighs, "but I couldn't think of anything else really. You're too captivating; I lost my focus."

"Oh wow," I say sarcastically, rolling off the bed with my tea in hand, "you're so smooth, I fell."

"In love with me," he comebacks. One eye roll later, I'm rummaging through my suitcase that's been discarded on the floor, trying to find something decent to wear for flamenco dancing.

-

"Liam!"

I wake up hastily, my head bouncing against Harry's. His head flies back, a face of pain etched on his face. I guess I accidentally smacked his head with mine.

"Ow," I groan, "really?"

"You're the one that should be saying that."

"You know..." I mutter, rubbing my forehead. Instead of continuing to gripe, he leans from where he's standing outside and kisses where our heads collided.

"Come on," he says, "the dancing has already started; we're late because you decided to fall asleep and drool on my new shirt."

"Hey," I protest, "maybe if it wasn't an hour away I wouldn't have slept."

"Okay okay," he says, now pulling me out of the car instead of letting me ease my way out, "come on."

The music playing is groovy (from a lack of words) and I immediately feel myself wanting to move my hips to the music.

"Yeah, there ya go!" Harry taps my hips cheekily before wrapping a protective arm around the small of my back. I rest my head on his shoulder, sporting a pair of sunglasses I borrowed from his arrangement of them. Soon we see people dancing the flamenco, their feet stomping with the music and their hands clapping along.

I'm going to die.

"You don't look anxious," he says, pushing a few strands of hair out of my face, "you good?"

"You're literally making me come out here and stomp dance," I reply, "I can't dance!"

"It's flamenco dancing," Harry corrects me cockily and I roll my eyes, "and you don't need to know how to dance. Just, watch me."

He steps onto the marble floor that's been carved out for the dancers, adjusting his feet in his heeled boots. The music begins to play and he raises his hands up.

Step clap clap, step clap clap, step clap clap...

And of course, to probably no one's surprise, he follows along with the beat perfectly. His hands smack together at every right moment and I watch in awe, because Harry really can do anything. He's like Kim Possible, but male, and not in high school. But maybe he kicks ass? Either way, he's a special one.

Whatever. He holds his hand out as the music slows down, motioning for me to come out and join him.

"Please? At least just one?"

"I--ugh," I groan, "fine."

He cheers, knowing he's won this time as he literally spins me into his arms. I stumble and he steadies me, resting one hand on my hip and one hand on my shoulder. The square is cheering for us and the other dancers, and I blush in embarrassment.

"I'm gonna look like trash next to them..." I mumble to Harry as he lets go of me, shaking his hands around as the reprise of the beat comes back, "Is this safe for my self esteem?"

"Liam," he continues to speak, "you're British. Don't expect to be good at this. Just know that all you can do it your best."

"It's more than that, and you're British too! But you're fucking killing it anyway--"

"That's me Liam. Me. I may have experienced more than you, but that doesn't mean you should just belittle yourself around me. You have your own special qualities."

"Like?"

"If I wore my hair like that, I would never be attractive again. You pull it off well."

The music picks up and he eggs me on, helping me through the steps and eventually, I did get past my shyness and started to enjoy myself. There were tourists around us doing worse than me, and next to Harry I looked pretty damn good. Soon we're moving past the flamenco and people are just simply dancing to whatever music plays.

I have fun, to be blunt and tell a long story short. Harry really helped me blossom from my past insecurities and after a while, I was in the center of dance circles, having the best fucking time of my life. It's amazing, how Harry seemed to be the only person that could break me out of my shell.

I went to a school dance with Zayn when I was in high school. He was the hot shot of the school,

"You seem to be having fun," Harry mentions a few hours later, after pulling me over for a slower song. I nod, shrugging as I rest my hands on his shoulders. He settles with my hips, swaying softly as we both look intently at each other.

"I guess it just took some getting used to," I respond honestly, because now I feel as if I don't have a problem at all.

"Mhm," he says, pulling me closer to his chest, "I know. I told you so."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I smirk, hugging his waist and closing my eyes as I rest my head on his tough chest.

"I hope you're happy Liam," Harry says suddenly, "you are happy, right?"

"Of course," I tell him, "why wouldn't I be happy?"

"Because, I wouldn't want to sweep you off your feet only for you to be not enjoying it."

"Stop doubting, trust me, I'm having the time of my life with you. In fact, this vacation didn't feel like a vacation until you took me under your wing. I was really lonely."

"You were?"

"Zayn didn't feel like flying all the way to Spain only to come back after a week. He wanted to take a month's worth trip. So I ended up going by myself."

"Oh," he says, "I see."

"And well, this may seem crazy, but I was so drawn to you when we first met. Your appearance alone made the trip unseemingly more interesting."

He nods, leaning down to place a kiss above my nose. I smile, crossing my eyes and he chuckles, catching my lips in his shortly after.

"You're an angel," he whispers, "an actual angel."

"Don't say that," I say back, "trust me, there are better."

"Yeah, maybe, but you're the best. You're the best to me."

"How do you know so soon?"

"Because I'm not a puzzle to myself," he says, and my mind traces back to when he stated that he likes enigmas. So, he understands himself, and no one understands him?

"I know what I feel, when I feel it, and how much I feel it. Regardless of anything that happens during or after this trip, I will still feel for you in some way."

"I..." I'm left at a null, speechless after his wordy speech. He smiles awkwardly, letting me go as the music ends.

"Nothing will stop me from feeling for you."

Clapping resumes and I look to the stage, applauding the band that was playing as they walk off. An acoustic guitar group replaces them and as I feel my hand being laced with another, I look up to Harry with my cheeks burning.

"Where are we going?"

"Street festival," he points, "it's open now that it's night time."

We turn the corner from where we were dancing and I bite my lip, holding onto his arm as well. I can see the lights from (presumably) the festival twinkling bright and it has me a bit curious as to how far they go for a nightly festival.

"Well how great is it--oh my, god..."

I've been amazed by a lot of beautiful things during these past few days. To name a few obvious things, the country of Spain, Pablo Picasso, and Harry Styles. But none of those things (maybe Harry) can compare to the beautiful sight in front of me. The long street it lit with fairy lights strung on top of all the booths, complementing the night sky. People crowd the streets and just the social atmosphere I'm hit with once my eyes land on the sight before me makes my inside bubble gleefully.

"I love this," I say almost immediately, "I love this, I love this, I love this."

My death grip on Harry's hand doesn't stop him from laughing as I look around like an excited kid. There's just way too much excitement for me to take in right now.

"I don't come here often, but I wanted to show you anyway," His eyes twinkle as we walk through, me clutching on his arm as well.

"Why don't you come often?"

"They usually have the same stuff up every night," He explains, "I come when I feel my brain has forgotten enough of it."

"So it feels like you're experiencing something new?"

"More or less," Harry shrugs, "I'm more of a New Money person; rolling in, fresh at the club--"

"Fresh at the club?"

"--questions and comments after the presentation!" He scolds me playfully and I laugh, not bothering to let him continue as I pull his lips to mine and give him a sweet kiss. He hums, holding me as my hands reach up to grab his cheeks, intensifying the friction between our mouths. He pulls away, pecking me a few times before taking my hand again.

"Thank you for that."

"I was feeling it," I shrug, "I've sucked your dick more than we've kissed."

"Oh that's not true!" He exclaims and I laugh heartily, "I wanted to have sex with you the day we met!"

"But you don't want to now?"

"No I just...don't think I want to have sex with you yet. Let's save it for after the trip."

I nod happily and he smiles, swinging our hands around as I let the thought seep in that there is going to be an after for us.

-

"If you ever make me eat those again, I will vomit on you."

"Yeah, you keep saying that."

"Polvorones are good!" Harry exclaims, shutting and locking the door before he gently pushes me on the couch.

"Nothing you say will ever make me like them," I giggle as he sits next to me, gripping my chin and kissing my lips.

"Mmm, what if I say they taste like my lips on a sunny day?"

"Wouldn't they be sweaty?"

"God damn it Liam."

"Don't blame me," I tease him and he pulls me into his lap, "you're not good at this."

"You're right," he sighs happily, "I'm terrible at this love thing."

"I was talking about sweet talking me into doing stuff."

"I know but, I'm not really good at this either."

"And yet you seem to win me over every day..."

Harry pushes my hair back when it flops all over the front of my face. I blush and smile sadly, because my hair has grown so long and is untamable without gel (which I decided to ditch this morning).

"Liam?"

"Yes?"

"If not me at the end of our chapter, I hope you find someone that will treat you like a king."

"I thought I was a prince," I say, tangling my hands with his, "your prince."

"You'll always be my prince," he smiles fondly and kisses me softly, "I promise. And one day, if not today, I'm going to show you the world. And then we'll build our own kingdom."

"We always go in this pattern."

"What pattern?"

"You getting my hopes up, and then saying something cryptic that makes me doubt you."

"Don't doubt me," he says to me, "just don't, underestimate me. I'm capable of more than you think."

"If...if we have a kingdom, where will it be?"

"Wherever you want it to be Liam. Even on the highest mountain in Tokyo."

"Yay," I giggle, pressing my mouth to his in a slower manner, wanting to feel his affection for me in the kiss. His fingers run up the sides of my stomach, moving to my dress up shirt as he pops open each button.

"My beautiful prince..." he whispers against my lips, "imagine if I never met you."

"Or if we met somewhere else..."

Harry grunts and takes off his own shirt before taking mine off and laying me down with my back to the couch, slotting himself between my legs.

"It wouldn't be the same."

"How do you know?"

"The feel wouldn't be there. The specific things we bonded over wouldn't be there either, and there wouldn't be this fiery passion we have."

"Fiery passion," I chuckle as he unbuckles my jeans, "you fucking said it. It's from my brain to my dick."

"As you are sporting it right now," he smirks, sliding my jeans off my legs and grazing his fingers over my boner. I bite my lip harshly, throwing my head back and whimpering.

"So we're doing this?" He asks as he gently inches himself closer to my face. I nod frantically and he grins. We both go with the thought that this is the right time, and leave that as the conclusion to our mess. Wow. Our mess.

"Let's go to the bedroom," he sing songs as he picks me up (again, what a strong and built fine man Harry Styles is), and sets me down on the ground.

"Race you."

And then he's gone, leaving his shirt on the floor and sprinting away from me.

"Hey!" I exclaim, running after him as well and practically diving into the bed in order to beat him.

"What?!" He exclaims, "For real?! How?!"

"My sex drive gives me more energy," I tell him, pulling him on top of me and letting lust overpower me, "no foreplay. Get to it."

did i mention there's no full on smut?