C H A P T E R    T H I R T Y T H R E E

Coffee and Conversation

(17 days til' Christmas)

❄●❄

HARRY WOKE TO two things: an empty sofa save for himself (he thought he'd dreamt Louis joining him last night anyway, so this wasn't much of a surprise) and a startlingly loud, familiar honking laugh that nearly mirrored his own, just...a bit higher-pitched.

He only vaguely wondered what Gemma was laughing at before he turned his head slightly, just enough to bury his ears further into his pillow and the sofa back. But then he heard the giggle, the one that often kept him awake at night as he attempted to figure out what good he'd done in a past life to deserve to hear that giggle. And suddenly he didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep again.

If Louis was here though, laughing with Gem, it must not have been a dream, him climbing onto the sofa with Harry. That would explain Harry's cramped joints and stiff spine, and also the extra warmth he still felt on his chest, his neck, the inside of his arms. His nerves, his stomach. His heart.

That was about when it hit him. That something had changed. If Louis was willing to sleep beside Harry, to let Harry hold him the way he usually did...something had to have changed. Maybe Ed explained it better than Harry ever could have, or maybe Louis didn't even make it there and the walk had been cathartic enough, maybe... Harry was afraid to hope.

Because what if Louis only allowed last night after making the decision to end it? To go home? What if last night was his "one last time" before he tells Harry goodbye for good and catches the train back to London as soon as it's available? Perhaps Ed hooked him up, the same way he'd done for Harry all those months ago.

Yes, he was afraid to hope. But he did it anyway as he pushed himself up and rubbed at his face, wanting to wake himself up a little more before he faced potential impending heartbreak.

A glance over the back of the sofa showed him his sister leaning against the kitchen counters, a mug of coffee in one hand and the smirk they shared left over on her face from that laugh that had woken him up. In front of her, his back to Harry, Louis sat at the island with his own coffee mug sat in front of him and a third in front of the empty stool beside him.

Harry straightened, stretching his arms out and allowing a yawn in order to alert the other two he was awake. The stretch has him groaning as well, a joint popping somewhere, and then he checked his hair to confirm what he already knew was there – a knotted mess.

"He's actually awake this time I think," Gemma said.

Harry wondered what that must mean, standing and slowly rounding the sofa toward the kitchen. He avoided Louis for now – he just needed a few more minutes – and went straight to his sister, who was watching him through bright, amused eyes and a quirked brow. He could feel Louis watching him, could feel the burn of his stare, but he wouldn't look. He approached Gemma instead and wrapped lazy arms around her from the side, leaning into her heavily and sighing contentedly. He remembered when she was taller than him, when this felt more representative of their ages, but it still felt as safe as it did then.

Gemma let it go on for maybe fifteen seconds. "H, I love you, but go brush your teeth."

Harry, eyes shut, turned and kissed her hair before doing as he was told. And when he returned to the kitchen, Louis was staring at him so intensely that Harry couldn't for the life of him continue to avoid looking back any longer. But there was nothing sad or angry or fleeting in his favorite blue eyes. There was a truce. And Louis slid that third coffee mug across the island toward him.

"It's still hot," Louis said quietly.

Harry didn't know what this meant. Were they okay? Was everything okay? Was he still just being amicable because he was leaving or could Harry relax? Should he relax anyway? They have a lot to discuss. But if Louis chose to stay, then it wouldn't matter, because everything would eventually be alright, right?

So he held Louis' stare as he brought the mug to his lips, searching that gaze as if it held all the answers. At the very least, if Louis looked away, then Harry knew it was likely bad news. But nobody looked away. "Thank you."

Louis responded with his tight-lipped smile, the one that had his eyes squinting and sometimes twinkling, like now. They were twinkling now. Harry had to consciously force himself not to beam, though this didn't mean he was in the clear yet. It just sure as hell felt like it.

"I brought home some groceries," Gemma blurted – it sounded intentional, like she knew very well what she was interrupting. Harry almost glared at her. "There wasn't much here before. But I think I'm going to head back to the hospital now."

"When should we come back?" Louis asked before Harry could.

"Lunch. Mum has a few tests this morning."

Gemma glanced between Louis and Harry and then tucked her hair behind an ear, exposing the elven point that sent Louis over the edge the last time he'd seen one. Harry knew she did it on purpose. His own eyes flitted over to the presence at the island, but Louis reacted in no way other than with a soft intake of breath, nothing out of the ordinary had Harry not been looking for it.

"Can we bring lunch so that nobody has to eat hospital food again?" He didn't necessarily plan to do this before now, and he wasn't sure he wanted to spend his morning cooking, but Harry had to ask something to diffuse whatever tension might be bubbling up. He couldn't detect any, but...just in case. "It's rubbish."

"You didn't even have any," Gemma scoffed. "But why don't you bring Mum's favorite stew? The one with the – "

"The beets and carrots," Harry nodded. "Easy to make, easy to eat."

"Easy to digest, hopefully," she agreed.

"Do we have everything for that? Will we need to make a second grocery run?" The cupboards were mostly empty, but it looked like they had nearly everything between what was already stocked up and what Gemma just brought home.

"You should have everything, but I mean, if not you know where the shop is. I'm going to head back; don't want to keep Mum waiting."

Harry continued looking, loading up the counter with what he'd be using. "See you later."

She patted his head on her way past him, and as she rounded the island Harry caught her squeezing Louis' shoulder out of the corner of his eye. And Harry realized part of him was dreading the moment she left them alone, but then the door was clicking shut and that moment was upon them. Harry gazed unseeingly into the open cupboard before him.

There was only a short pause before Louis said, "She's great."

Harry swallowed. "Yeah."

"Reminds me of you."

Pursing his lips and fighting a small smile, Harry glanced over his shoulder. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Louis looked up from his mug. "You should." Then he smiled again.

This felt good, felt like...like a relief. Harry wanted it to continue terribly, tried to think of something to keep their little rapport going but he didn't know where to begin. He turned back to the cupboard, closed it, and opened the next one to continue his search for the vegetables he'd need for the stew.

When he found everything. They could start again once he found everything.

So instead of that conversation, he asked, "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"I think we should talk first," was Louis' response, which effectively halted Harry from continuing his search.

He'd had high hopes up until now, but that...that's a bad way to begin conversations like this, and Louis probably knew that. It was the "I'm breaking up with you" prerequisite, not the "I forgive you let's move forward" one.

But then Louis said, "I didn't really give you the chance to explain anything last night."

As he spoke, Harry could hear the stool scraping. Louis was standing, and soon he was moving, and though Harry still hadn't turned around, he looked to his right where he knew Louis would appear.

And he did, reaching for Harry's hand before tugging him toward the living room. "So," he continued, "let's talk."

❄●❄

"...AND STARTING AS early as September we're all meant to take a train to our cities and start getting our stuff on the radio or on bookstands or wherever else. From then until Christmas we immerse ourselves in human culture and try to spread as much holiday cheer as we can, try to get, you know, as many people as possible into the spirit of Christmas as we can, and when it's over we come back here.

"We spend the next two months at the Hit-Maker House discussing what went well and what didn't and developing new techniques and laying out our plans for the rest of the year until September comes around again, and...yeah. That's about the gist of a Hit-Maker Elf's career," Harry finished.

Louis was staring at him like he hadn't understood a word that just came out of his mouth, and then he asked, "So it's your fault, then, that holiday music plays at Gibson's late summer, early fall?"

Harry hunched his shoulders at the accusatory gleam in Louis' eyes. "Yes."

Louis' nostrils flared only once before he told Harry to go on, so Harry launched into the inner workings of the Elf Council, explaining the Elder Elves and their roles as well as why they've canceled Christmas this year. And he didn't really want to linger on this, but Louis butt in.

"Is Christmas really canceled?"

Harry nodded.

"That sounds... That sounds like a fake thing."

Snorting, Harry adjusted his legs, which had been tucked beneath him. "It's really, truly canceled. Santa will be making zero deliveries at the end of the month. Hit-Maker Elves are all here."

"Why does holiday music still fucking play everywhere then, hm?"

"Humans enjoy Christmas too, Louis."

"If it's canceled, why are you putting on that party at the hotel? What's the point?"

Harry knew Louis was just trying to understand and God, Harry desperately wanted him to, but these questions were hard ones. And they were intentionally hard. Louis still wasn't fully sold, which is understandable, but damn. They're hard to answer.

"My job consisted of spreading the cheer, you know?" Harry began. "I was meant to get people involved and to help them to believe again, or at the very least to feel something this time of year again. When Christmas was canceled and I couldn't be promoted, I guess... I decided to come here and do it anyway. Hopefully I can save the holiday that way."

They've already been talking for over an hour. Louis' first question was about how Harry was only half and elf, how that was possible, and then Harry spent a good amount of time trying to describe the layout of the North Pole without drawing it out. He tried not to look too amused when Louis claimed it sounded nothing like the North Pole he's seen in movies.

And Harry would admit, Louis' been taking it rather well. A lot better than expected. He may not understand everything by the time Harry's done explaining it, but he doesn't seem to be discarding or discounting any of the new information either. It felt like progress, and it felt like...a relief.

"But me doing that, it's...it's not enough. So my mum's been meeting with the Elders, trying to convince them to keep Christmas going, but they only want to speak with me for some reason," Harry continued.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Genuinely no clue. I essentially quit my job and my life as an elf, so I don't know what I could offer them that Mum can't."

"So let me just throw something out there," Louis said, sounding like he's changed the subject. He folded his own legs beneath him, turning his body to better face Harry.

"Shoot."

"Do you truly enjoy Christmas as much as you claim to, or is it just because you're from here? From – from the North Pole, and all that."

Harry chose to ignore the stumbling and stuttering over his home. "I would definitely love Christmas as much. Even if I'd been raised a human and knew nothing of my heritage, I would love it as much."

Louis bristled. "That's naïve, though, Harry. Believing in all this is...naïve."

"Is it still naïve now that you can see it for yourself?"

When he doesn't get a response, Harry continued. "If you hadn't experienced everything that made you hate this time of year, would you still feel that way? Would you still hate it?"

Again, no response. Instead Louis stared, cocking his head a little like a confused puppy until his gaze became more assessing. Perhaps he's trying to come up with something to say, some comeback, or maybe –

Harry's train of thought was effectively silenced when Louis leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. He continued to press forward, closer and closer to Harry until Harry had no choice but to lie back on the sofa while the little jungle cat cutting off all his oxygen climbed atop him.

His blood began to boil at all the contact, and he knew he'd let Louis kiss him for as long as he'd like, breathless or no. But Louis pulled away after only a few moments. Harry was expecting some sly remark, so what was said caught him off guard.

"No matter what I think or feel about Christmas, it won't change the way I feel about you."

And fuck if Harry wasn't immediately choked up, which was ridiculous – he knew – but after a full morning of wondering whether they were going to make it or not, this was important enough to warrant such a reaction. They would be alright.

Adrenaline rushed through him as he reached up and wrapped one arm tightly around Louis' torso; using the other as leverage, he flipped their positions in one swift movement to continue where they left off. Louis' lips parted beneath his, and instead of taking advantage of this, Harry felt himself beginning to smile. He paused the kissing, pulling back to brush Louis' fringe out of his eyes and just...look at him. They would be alright.

Louis' lips had remained parted, like he was too lazy to press them back together, and he quirked a brow. "What?"

In place of a vocal response, Harry kissed him again, kissed him probably too hard but he didn't care much. Louis parted his lips again, and Harry was going to take advantage of it this time, he was. But... He pulled back instead, because there he was. Louis. His Louis. How could he not look at him?

This time, Louis chuckled. "What?"

A giggle escaped Harry's own mouth, and he silenced it with more kissing. The urge to continue staring at his favorite human was unbearable, and he tried – he really, truly tried this time. But though he even managed to finally take advantage of Louis' parted lips – that entire, perfect mouth now fully there for his taking – it was only for a short moment because fuck it all he had to look one more time. And he couldn't stop smiling.

Before he'd gotten very far, Louis caught his chin with a gentle but firm grip. "We should probably make lunch."

Probably thinking Harry would get off him, Louis released his chin. Before he could be stopped, Harry quickly pecked Louis' nose, a sure surprise, and then hopped off.

With Louis giggling in his wake, on his way to the kitchen Harry thought he might be in love.