Pairing: Harry Styles/Nick Grimshaw

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: None

This is loosely based on the events Nick spoke of on The Breakfast show (01/17/17) but it is in no way implying that this is anything other than a work of fiction.

I truly love this oneshot and I hope you all do too.

Votes and comments are always wonderful to receive if you feel like leaving one.

I'm sending you all lots of love xxxx

- starr

Nick's splayed out on the sofa in his pants and a rumpled t-shirt, which he hasn't moved from since he returned home after a quick lunch with Aimee when his phone buzzes, interrupting his blissful alone time, forcing him to lift his head up from the cushions so he can see who is trying to get a hold of him.

And although Nick had previously declared this a lazy afternoon, it is Monday after all, which is the best day to spend lounging about after having to be up so early following the weekend, meaning he hasn't been paying attention to any of his messages in favor of focusing on his bag of crisps, when he spies Harry's name, he immediately reaches for the device without even pausing to brush the dust from his fingers in his hurry to read the text.

Nick cringes once he realizes how desperate he's acting, and honestly, it's a bit embarrassing, but at least no one else is here to witness it besides Pig and Stinky Blob.

And really, Nick thought this sort of behavior would wear off eventually, the whole "heart skipping a beat whenever he thinks of Harry" crap that he'll never admit to actually experiencing, but it hasn't, and Nick's starting to believe that it never will.

In his defense, they haven't been speaking all that much, not until the last few weeks that is, so if Nick is a bit overeager to shower Harry with what's probably a bit too much attention, he can't really blame himself.

Nick's missed Harry - he's stopped trying to deny it, not in his head anymore at least. He'd never properly gotten over him, even though he'd pretended to, but now Nick's come to the conclusion that he was simply lying to everyone including himself.

Nick hasn't been pining or anything - he hasn't, okay, maybe just a bit, but he's been mostly managing to deal with the loss of Harry until recently.

He'd thrown himself into his work, even gotten a real boyfriend, although that had ended not too long ago as well, the timing almost perfectly coinciding with Harry's random reappearance in his life.

And it's not like Harry hasn't been there, because he has, more often than he used to even when they were seeing each other thanks to the band's hiatus, but Nick has just been avoiding him as much as he can in an effort to give Harry some space, or maybe to protect himself, or whatever excuse he can concoct to make himself feel better when he turns down invites to events that Harry's attending.

They hadn't ended on bad terms or anything; Harry's too sweet to be cruel, and Nick doesn't blame him for calling off whatever they had when he did.

In fact - it was probably one of the calmest breakups Nick's ever experienced, but it still feels like the worst, leaving him a bit gun shy of anything Harry related.

Their relationship - if Nick can even call it that had been getting difficult for the both of them, what with Harry gone ninety percent of the year and Nick not being able to spend nearly as much time with him as he used to thanks to his commitment to the Breakfast Show, but its termination had still hurt, Nick can't deny that.

Nick tries not to think of that night, to erase the memory of how beautiful Harry had looked when he'd stopped by Nick's place the evening before he had to jet off for another tour, of how tired he'd been, of how red his lips were due to his constant gnawing on them.

They'd been going through a bit of a rough patch at the time. Harry had only gotten two weeks at home which were still filled with interviews and photo shoots, and Nick had barely been able to find three days where their schedules were both free, leaving the pair of them stroppy and frustrated even if they did meet up at night and at least fall into the same bed together.

"Are you happy?" Harry asks him when Nick queries about his wellbeing, his uncharacteristic silence prompting Nick to speak even though his first instinct is to pretend that everything is fine since he's only got a few hours left with Harry.

The question is random and also expected all at once, the solemn tone of Harry's voice twisting Nick's insides in a manner that is literally painful.

"'Course," Nick responds casually, trying to avoid what a part of him knows is coming, or to delay it, but as much as he doesn't want to, he has to turn Harry's inquiry around. "Are you?"

"Sometimes..." Harry sighs deeply, "when I'm with you I am."

"That's not all that much," Nick remarks, his heart tearing in two when Harry's eyes go cloudy and he chokes back a pitiful noise.

It had devolved from there into tears on Harry's part and salty sweet kisses and Nick trying to pretend he wasn't on the verge of sobs when Harry had suggested that they both take a break to see if this was what they really wanted.

Nick had agreed, not because he had ever doubted that Harry was his everything, but for Harry's sake. He couldn't hold him back, couldn't stand the thought of making him unhappy, and the fact that Harry had brought this up at all meant he had been questioning things, so Nick emulated the responsible adult he's supposed to be and let Harry go even though it almost destroyed him.

They'd promised to remain friends, and they are, but Nick's never been good at staying close with his exes, and although he and Harry had never been properly labeled, Nick considers him one.

They'd continued to chat occasionally, but even that had tapered off eventually. Nick had done his best to move on, to let Harry enjoy being a popstar without a thirty year old boyfriend tying him down, and if he did continue to keep tabs on him like a desperate fan praying to have a chance with Harry, he never told a soul.

Nick had dated around before settling down with Michael for a bit, as well as spending almost all of his free hours with friends and family so he didn't have much of a chance to pine over Harry; basically he did his best to pretend like he wasn't broken up over his split with Harry even though he was.

He still got jealous when he saw pictures of Harry getting cozy with Tom whatever the fuck his name was on the set of Dunkirk, and he may have ogled his Another Man photoshoot a bit more than was probably healthy, but as time passed, he became skilled at pushing away memories of what he and Harry had shared, he'd even rearranged the interior of his house so it no longer resembled the home the two of them had practically made together.

He and Michael had fizzled out in October, or was it later than that? It could have been November when they properly broke up, Nick doesn't recall now, but if he's being completely honest, it hadn't bothered him all that much.

Michael was nice, charming even, but he's not Harry, and it's hard to mourn his loss when Nick's still completely caught up on the boy who took half his heart with him when he left.

And then Harry had called him out of the blue early in December, after almost six months of no contact between them, after not seeing Harry in person since his birthday, after Nick had finally almost convinced himself that he was properly over him, or as close to it as he would ever get anyway.

Nick had ignored the first call, because he just - he wasn't ready to speak to Harry after so long without hearing his voice. He knows what he's like, and how he gets, and how Harry's stupidly attractive drawl makes his insides feel runny and he forgets that he's not allowed to be in love with him anymore.

It had been late as well, or at least for Nick who has to get up at five in the morning if he wants to be at work on time, so he'd let it ring, burying his face in the pillow to try and smother his affection for Harry Styles that stubbornly refused to go away.

But then he'd rung him again barely a minute after, and then again, and Nick's curiosity had beaten out his fear, but only just barely, leaving his hand shaking as he'd answered the call, his voice rough as he croaked out a hello that he'd have blamed on the hour and not his unruly emotions if anyone had called him on it.

And fuck - Harry had been crying, or recently finished. He had barely said three words before Nick could tell, because he knows Harry, still does even now, and the fact that Harry was upset hurt him more than a knife in the chest ever could.

When Nick had gotten Harry to calm down a bit, he'd explained that Louis' mum was in the hospital, which - fuck, Nick doesn't even like Louis all that much, but he'd gotten teary as well when he heard the news.

Nick knows that Johannah's like a second mum to Harry, that Louis is basically his brother. It's obvious in Harry's tone that he's cracking under the strain of dealing with this downturn in her health, and he can only imagine that Louis isn't doing any better, no matter how expected this all was.

What Nick still doesn't understand though is why Harry had called him up out of all people, but at the time, he hadn't questioned it, he'd simply talked to Harry for four bloody hours, trading sleep for Harry's slow mumbles and sorrow tinted laughs as Nick did his best to cheer him up as much as he could with only his voice.

Nick had assumed that late night conversation was going to be a one-off, he'd even managed to convince himself that Harry had simply gone through his entire contact list and Nick had been the only one awake at the time, so he didn't reach out to Harry again after sending him a text the next day asking if he was holding up all right to which he received a simple thumbs up emoji and a "thanks" in response.

But barely a week later, his phone had rung again, once more at a ridiculously late hour, almost two in the morning this time, but at least it was a Saturday, which meant that Nick didn't have work in a few hours.

He had actually been asleep this time, but for some idiotic reason, he'd kept the device near his pillow, and although Nick doesn't really believe in fate, he wonders if he somehow knew that Harry was going to need him through the odd subconscious connection that still ties them together unknowingly.

When Nick answered, Harry had started talking before he could finish uttering a greeting, his words slurred and unintelligible, causing Nick to sit up further in bed in an attempt to hear Harry better over the pounding music in the background.

"Haz where are you? I can't make out what you're saying," Nick sighs in frustration after a few minutes of Harry babbling nonsense against a backdrop of noise that can only be caused by a club.

"I - I'm...hold on a moment," Harry huffs. Everything becomes muffled for a few seconds that feel like years to Nick before the annoying bass beat fades away, leaving him to assume that Harry has stepped outside. "Better?"

"Yeah, everything alright popstar?" Nick asks, something uncomfortable twisting around his brain stem, because he knows Harry's been at the hospital with Louis almost nonstop, that the fact that he's out right now can't bode well unless Harry's celebrating his mum's return to health, which he highly doubts is the case.

"No." Nick can almost hear Harry's face crumble, can sense it in his wavering tone and his harsh intake of breath. "Louis told me he needed some space to process everything...and I..."

Nick jolts to his feet when Harry starts sobbing brokenly, pulling on trousers and shoes one handed without giving his actions any real thought.

Nick hasn't checked any of his social media since Friday after he'd somehow spent that entire afternoon looking at recent pictures of Harry, so he'd been doing his best to avoid obsessing over him for the rest of the weekend in an effort to remind himself that one stupid phone call doesn't mean anything, but he has a feeling he should have, and - of course, when he opens his laptop so roughly it almost snaps in two and navigates his way to Twitter, typing in Louis' name once it loads, his finds the page full of well wishes and condolences, cementing his suspicions instantly.

"Where are you love?" Nick presses almost frantically, his urge to protect Harry welling up inside him with such intensity that Nick thinks he'll go mad if he can't find an outlet for it.

Nick's aware that he's got to be quick if he wants to shield Harry from the media who will surely have a heyday if they find him having a cry before he does, not to mention he might start getting wet eyes soon as well if Harry keeps whimpering like that.

"I don't know, some club," Harry sniffles, "I just wanted to forget, I didn't want to be at home by myself anymore, but I'm still sad Nick...it hurts a lot. I don't want to be alone."

"You're not, I'm coming to get you," Nick promises, his mind instantly erasing the past two years now that Harry needs him again, "but you have to tell me where you are so I can pick you up, can you do that for me?"

"Think it's called Hot Wire," Harry finally answers shakily, and that's all Nick needs to hear before he's rushing to his car, not bothering with calling a cab since he can't bear to hang up on Harry for even a moment.

Nick had kept Harry on the line the entire time even though he's shit at speaking on the phone and driving, especially when he's heading to an unfamiliar place.

He'd managed well enough though, eventually finding Harry slumped on a bench near the entrance of the club with his head in his hands and thankfully no one else around.

Nick had bundled him into his vehicle, all but carrying Harry who was so pissed he could barely walk a straight line. He'd headed back home after Harry had admitted that he'd lost his keys, his face scrunching up at the confession like he was about to cry over that too.

Nick had shushed him gently, breaking the speed limits as he rushed back to his place, his eyes drawn to Harry the entire time even though he really should have been keeping an eye on the road instead.

Harry had practically collapsed on Nick's sofa when they'd arrived without bothering to shed his heavy jacket or his boots. Not knowing what to do, Nick had simply sat himself down by his feet, covering Harry with a nearby throw blanket when he began shivering violently.

It hurt Nick to see Harry like this, to see him at all, but in a way, it was almost easier than Nick thought it would be since he was too focused on rubbing soothingly at Harry's calf when he started sobbing again than on how gorgeous he was even with swollen cheeks and red eyes.

Harry didn't speak a word, and neither did Nick, they just sat together until Harry's tears had dried and they'd both dozed off, only for Nick to be awoken some indeterminate time later by the sound of Harry retching in the toilets.

Nick had patted his back until his stomach had settled, remembering how he used to have to move Harry's curls out of the way when he'd get sick, but now they were gone, leaving Nick's palms itching with the desire to feel the shorter tufts of hair even though he didn't think Harry would appreciate that, especially not in his current condition.

Nick had dragged Harry into his bedroom when he could stand again, helping him undress before slipping him under the sheets and returning to the couch to try and sleep, which was impossible with how rapidly his mind was churning.

Harry's mum had called Nick not long after the sun had risen, her voice slightly panicked, which matched how Nick felt inside since he had no clue why she was ringing him up unless she had GPS on her phone letting her know that Harry was here.

"Nick?" Anne asks before Nick can mumble out a hello, "I hate to bother you this early, but you haven't seen Harry by any chance? Louis hasn't been able to get a hold of him, he's worried, we both are."

"He's here," Nick admits, his eyes darting down the hallway where Harry is currently resting. "He was in a bit of a state earlier, but he's sleeping now."

"Oh thank god," Anne exhales heavily. "Thank you Nick. I'll let you go then, just wanted to make sure that he's safe."

"He is, and I'm so sorry to hear about Johannah by the way, she was a lovely woman," Nick murmurs, knowing condolences are crap at comforting most people but still feeling the need to utter them anyway.

"She was, we're all going to miss her," Anne sighs, "but I'm sure I woke you, so don't let me keep you on the line for any longer than I already have."

"Wait," Nick speaks up before he can stop himself, his question pouring past his lips so rapidly he doesn't have time to decide if he really wants to hear the answer or not. "Why did you call me...I mean, why'd you assume Harry would be with me?"

"Oh..." Anne chuckles wryly, amusement bleeding through her tone even though Nick can't figure out what's so funny. "Just motherly instinct I guess. You mean a lot to him Nick, you always have, and he wouldn't turn to just anyone when he's this upset."

"I..." Nick trails off, because really, he has no idea what to say to that. Well - he could press Anne for more information, maybe even ask her if Harry's spoken about him at all lately, but he's not going to stoop to that level, especially not now. "I'm glad, he means a lot to me too."

"I know, thanks again Nick, for everything. Tell Harry to come home soon yeah?"

"I will, say hi to Gemma for me."

The call ended not long after that, and despite his exhaustion thanks to his mostly sleepless night, Nick continued to toss and turn uncomfortably even after his eyes refused to stay open, Anne's words replaying through his head on an endless loop that bled through to his dreams.

Harry was gone in the morning, but he'd left a note.

It was simple, just a "thanks xxxx" but it had four x's, four.

Nick doesn't know what that means, because Harry had once explained to him his system with x's. He uses one for things he signs for fans, two for mates, three for family, and four for the most special people in his life, and Nick had gotten four.

Nick had teased him at the time, reminding him that Harry's sent him loads more x's in texts, and Harry had just grinned cheekily and airily claimed that he must be really important then, but that was ages ago, back when they had been together, not now when they could barely call the other anything more than a professional friend.

Nick resisted the urge to message Harry as the minutes dragged into hours which he hated to say were mostly spent staring at Harry's note, not wanting to appear clingy even though he was dying to ask why Harry had called him as well as slightly terrified for the younger man.

He'd been so distraught last night, not without good reason of course, but still - Harry isn't the kind of person to drink away his problems, that's always been Nick's forte.

But as much as Nick hates to admit it - it's none of his business, and if Harry wants to talk to him again, he can, but he's probably back with Louis, and Nick doesn't want to interrupt that with a nosy text.

Harry doesn't seem to feel the same way though given the fact that he messages Nick around noon, apologizing for his sloppy behavior while also thanking Nick for coming to get him last night.

Nick wants to pretend that he doesn't smile so wide his cheeks hurt when he reads the few lines of text, but he does, and the expression stays present even after he's typed out a casual reply saying that it was no problem and that Harry can call him anytime he's in a bind.

After that, it's like the past year of hardly any contact never happened.

Harry texts Nick almost every day, not constantly or anything, sometimes it's just a picture of a place they used to go together or a "god how do I always manage to lose all of my matching socks" sort of thing, but it's more than they've shared in ages, and Nick loses himself in how easy it is to slip back into being friends with Harry.

It's almost enough to erase his heartache, leaving Nick happier than he's been since - god, he doesn't even know, well, probably since things were last good between him and Harry honestly.

It's not like they are back together, or that they might be soon, Nick isn't stupid enough to start thinking like that. They haven't even seen each other in person since the night Louis' mum passed, but they're talking, they're getting along just like they used to before either of them admitted their feelings for the other, and Nick didn't realize how much he missed this until just now.

But when Nick sees what Harry's said in his message that's interrupted his treasured alone time, which he had expected to be a photo of something silly or a string of random emojis, not a "what're you doing? I'm bored and lonely", followed by "do you want to go out tonight, maybe grab some dinner?", the comfortable aura of their newfound friendship tilts on its axis momentarily.

Nick gulps back the wave of panic rising in his stomach when he reads over the few lines of script, because he's being silly, and overdramatic, which - okay, Nick is a bit of a diva, but he shouldn't be filled with anxiety simply because of an offer to hang out with Harry who he's been talking to consistently for over a month now.

But he is, and it's not like he doesn't want to see Harry, he's just scared.

So far he's been playing the part of a friend perfectly instead of the pining lovesick puppy he actually is. It's easy when a phone is separating them, but seeing Harry, having his long legs and soft lips and his broad shoulders which Nick used to wrap himself around right in front of him isn't something Nick thinks he is ready for.

So he takes the coward's way out, letting Harry down easy with a perfectly valid excuse that actually isn't a lie, although Nick really could pop out for a quick bite to eat if he wasn't so bloody petrified by the simple thought of being near Harry again without a crisis making his presence necessary.

"Wish I could, but I'm stuck home for the night. Need to watch that iBoy movie before I interview Maisie Williams tomorrow."

Nick sighs heavily once his reply is sent, something that might be disappointment curling in his gut when Harry doesn't respond right away, not that he has to, or should, especially since Nick's turned him down.

It's for the best, Nick tells himself. Maybe one day he'll be able to handle seeing Harry again, and if it was something like a party with mutual friends or another similar event were Nick could escape if he needed to, he would, but this - one on one with only Harry to occupy his attention is too much for Nick in this fragile state, although he really should be over their breakup by now.

Nick's debating on whether he can be bothered to whip up a meal for himself when his phone pings brightly, signaling a new text which is, of course, from Harry.

"I haven't seen that film."

"Well that's because it's not out yet and you don't have exclusive access like me," Nick responds cheekily, a grin tugging at his lips which sort of annoys him since he shouldn't get so much joy from just texting Harry. It makes him feel like a teenager who's crushing on someone instead of the thirty two year old he actually is.

"I could come over and watch it with you," is Harry's reply, which leaves Nick a bit winded when he realizes that Harry really does want to see him tonight, not that his first offer didn't make that apparent, but still - fuck, Nick isn't sure what to do about that.

"If that's alright with you," Harry adds a few seconds later, the hesitant nature of his message inciting a guilty sensation that washes over Nick, maybe because he dislikes the idea of Harry being unsure about if Nick would want to spend time with him or not, or - no, that's probably what it is.

Nick chews on the inside of his mouth roughly as his fingers dance across the keyboard of his phone, his heart waging a battle with his head as he tries to make what feels like the most difficult decision of his life.

And in the end, Nick knows what he really wants, and that's Harry here, Harry in his home, even if it's only as a friend. He can't keep putting this off until he stops loving Harry, because he probably never will, so no matter how uncomfortable this might be for him, he values Harry's friendship more than the welfare of his own shattered heart.

"I'd like that, see you at six?"

Harry responds with two rows of smiley face emojis that Nick takes as a yes, and although he's so nervous he's practically shaking, he's also excited too.

He even goes so far as to tell his dogs that Harry is coming over to visit, which just earns him a huff from Pig and complete ignorance from Stinky Blob.

Nick relaxes back down onto the sofa for all of ten minutes before he springs upward so quickly he startles Pig, the abandoned bag of crisps falling to the floor like a giant, ugly leaf as Nick darts into his bedroom.

Fuck - Harry's coming over, which - okay, is not a big deal, or at least, that's what Nick is going to keep telling himself, but he hasn't showered, and he looks like shit, and oh god - he does not have enough time to make himself presentable before Harry gets here. Why the hell did he say six and not seven?

Nick rushes into the shower so quickly he almost slides into the wall and gives himself a concussion, which would be equal parts mortifying and hilarious if Harry ended up finding him naked and passed out in the tub when he arrives, if he even still has his spare key that is.

Nick forces himself to slow down a bit as he washes himself hurriedly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with every tick of the clock, his best attempts at staying calm failing miserably as he finishes as quickly as he can without braining himself, only to spend the rest of his free moments agonizing over his outfit.

It's difficult to choose though. He wants to look good - this is Harry he's hosting after all, but he also can't appear like he's trying too hard to impress him, because he's not, except he totally is. Harry's already seen him at his worst, but still, this feels important - is important, at least to Nick.

This is a big step for them; whatever it means to Harry, it is special to Nick. Harry's reaching out to him, Harry wants to spend time with him again when he's not in the middle of an emotional breakdown, and even if he just wants them to stay friends, Nick thinks he can live with that, but he also can't bear to come off as a slob in front of maybe the only person that Nick's ever properly loved.

Fuck - Nick has to stop saying that, even in his head. His feelings for Harry are only going to make this more awkward than it needs to be, and as sad as it is to contemplate, Harry's probably completely over him already.

Sure - Harry hasn't been tied to anyone in the tabloids lately, but they had their chance to make it, and it hadn't worked, so Nick isn't going to push things.

He just wants Harry to be happy, to feel like he can trust Nick again like he used to. He's been through a lot lately, and he's probably searching for a supportive shoulder to lean on, which Nick can be. He is determined to make it through this without ruining things, but he has to pick an outfit first, and he's only got ten minutes left with which to do that in.

~~~

Luckily, Harry shows up almost half an hour late, giving Nick just enough time to shimmy into his jeans that make his arse look amazing but are also casual enough not to appear like he put them on especially for Harry, coupled with a plain grey jumper that's light and cozy.

Harry of course looks ridiculously stunning as usual, and as much as Nick hates himself for it, he has to stop and stare when he opens the door and sees Harry clad in a peach button-up shirt with a tan coat pulled over himself and a patterned scarf wrapped around his neck, his hair windblown and tousled and soft looking and oh fuck - why does Nick want to run his hands through it so badly?

"Hiya," Harry grins when Nick continues to stand there, his fingers which are still covered in various rings waving at Nick briefly before he drops his hand back down to his side. "Can I come in?" Harry giggles quietly, the deep sound seeping into Nick's soul and healing the jagged edges that he hadn't been aware still existed there, and god, Nick needs to get a grip on himself if he's already become this soppy seconds into seeing Harry in person.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just...weird seeing you here again - nice though, very nice," Nick stutters, his face heating up instantly which leaves him cursing himself in his head.

Harry hasn't even been here for a minute and Nick is already flustered and tripping over his words, which doesn't bode well for the rest of the evening, but it's too late to cancel on him now.

"Well I did say I was coming," Harry laughs again. He sounds so comfortable and happy to be here that Nick sort of wants to punch himself in the face, which makes no sense whatsoever, but it's freaking him out having Harry on his doorstep like it's 2013 all over again and nothing has changed even though everything has. "Did you think I wouldn't show?"

"No," Nick protests immediately, because that's not it at all, he's just sort of having an existential crisis focused around Harry, but he can't exactly say that aloud.

Luckily Nick is saved from explaining his odd behavior by Pig and Stinky Blob who barrel into Harry's knees the second they step inside, their tails wagging happily as Harry coos and leans down to pet them behind their ears.

"I've missed them," Harry whispers so softly that Nick isn't sure if he's supposed to hear it, his chest aching as he pretends that Harry is going to add on that he's missed him as well. He doesn't though, but that's all right, Nick's heart will probably combust if he hears that in Harry's voice anyway.

"Looks like they've missed you too," Nick grins, "they always did like you better."

"That's because you don't give them enough treats," Harry chuckles, his hand coming up to touch his neck like he's about to push away the hair he no longer has from his face.

"No - you bloody spoil them is what, can't have them getting any fatter than they already are," Nick groans, his lips quirking upward thanks to the friendly argument that they used to partake in every time Harry would slip his dogs food when he thought Nick wasn't looking.

"But that's what the stepfather is supposed to do," Harry teases, which he's said a thousand times before after he'd officially announced he was the honorary father of Nick's dogs by association, but fuck - it hurts now, mostly because it reminds Nick of when he'd end this back and forth with a kiss instead of the strangled cough he lets out instead.

"I've got my eye on you Styles," Nick forces his mouth to form words when Harry stands up and starts shedding his coat, "so don't go sneaking them morsels thinking you can come back and erase all my hard work, they hardly even beg at the table anymore."

"But Nickkk," Harry whines, ignorant to how Nick shivers as if he's touched a live wire after hearing Harry say his name like that again after so long, "they always look so hungry."

"They're manipulative little devils, don't let them fool you," Nick sighs, his gaze meeting Harry's bright green one briefly before he forces it to skitter away again. "So uh...how've you been?" Nick dares to ask, because even though Harry looks happy, Nick knows he's become an expert at hiding his inner turmoil behind a smile, and Nick's not sure if he's as skilled at reading him as he used to be.

"I'm good - really," Harry emphasizes when Nick remains silent. "Been spending some time at home, Louis' doing better now too. He told me you texted him by the way, thought it was proper sweet of you."

"Oh...uh - yeah, I might have," Nick admits, because he and Louis may not be on the best of terms, but when he'd seen how distraught Harry had been over Johannah's death, he had sent Louis a short message as well even though he hadn't been sure how it would be received. "I really am sorry for his loss, yours as well, can't imagine losing my mum that young."

"He's strong, he's going to be fine. We both got bad for a bit there you know, but he's alright now, and I am too, promise."

"I'm glad," Nick smiles genuinely, Harry's words ringing true at least as far as he can tell. "Louis never texted me back though, quite rude of him actually," Nick can't resist tacking on in the hopes of lightening the atmosphere in the room, which earns him a grin from Harry that he doesn't quite manage to hide with the sudden duck of his head.

"Oh god Nick, you're ridiculous," Harry snorts.

"Not ridiculous," Nick argues teasingly, "I'm wounded by being left on seen if anything."

"Shut up, you know Lou's shit at responding to texts, you've got to call him if you want to have a chat with him."

"Yeah...not doing that," Nick mutters under his breath, because as much as his heart does ache for Louis, he doubts a conversation with him would cheer him up any, and luckily Harry doesn't hear his snarky remark.

Nick really doesn't mind Louis, he's a nice enough lad, he'd just gotten very protective over Harry back when he'd been seeing Nick.

They'd shared a few harsh words at one point during which Louis had accused Nick of being a starfucker that was only shagging Harry for fame, which was just as absurd as it was hurtful, and Nick had never really forgotten that even after the sting of his words had faded away.

"You've redecorated," Harry exclaims before Nick can steer their conversation in a new direction with another of those typical 'how's the family, you been working on any new projects lately' type of questions that feel odd when posed to Harry since they never had any need for such pleasantries before.

"Oh yeah - got bored one day," Nick shrugs, hoping his face isn't betraying the fact that he did it because everything in his home reminded him of Harry and it had become too much to bear, because nope - he's never letting Harry figure that one out.

"Well go on, I need the grand tour then." Harry beams up at Nick as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the entryway without bothering to straighten them at all just like he always used to.

Nick rolls his eyes fondly at Harry as he rocks back and forth on his heels, swallowing down the comment that's on the tip of his tongue regarding how Harry used to practically live here, instead slipping what he hopes is a complacent mask onto his face as he begins showing Harry around like he's a stranger and not someone he slept with for three years.

Harry oohs and ahhs over everything that's changed in Nick's home, his hands never staying still for more than a moment as he picks things up and pokes at the new pillows Nick had put on his sofa and generally just makes a mess of Nick's careful organization, not that he minds at all since his actions are so Harry-like that it has Nick reminiscing on happier times, and he can fix it all once he leaves anyway.

"And this is the spare bedroom," Nick says as they enter the area he hardly ever uses, his tone overexaggerated in an imitation of a posh relator which has Harry giggling brightly every time Nick points out something in his silly pitch.

"What's that?" Harry exclaims, interrupting Nick's running commentary about the pieces of art he's hung up on the walls, his socked toe kicking at something that Nick can't quite make out against the dark carpet, causing the object to fly across the balcony.

"Oh...well," Nick blushes as he moves closer to the small brown nugget, "I think that's a poo. I must have missed it when I cleaned up in here last. Bloody dogs keep trying to use the loo in the house since it's so cold out."

Instead of being disgusted, Harry laughs heartily, earning himself a weak smile from Nick who feels less like he wants to sink into the carpet and die of embarrassment than he had a moment ago.

Harry occupies himself with inspecting the guest toilets while Nick cleans up the poo, but he joins Nick in the kitchen as he's washing his hands thoroughly, his hair looking a bit flatter than it had before as if Harry had been making use of some of Nick's products while he was in there.

Nick gets a bit lost staring at Harry again, so he forces himself to pay attention to his hands, scrubbing at them a bit more furiously than he needs to in the vain effort at trying to wash his affection for Harry down the drain along with the suds dripping from his fingers.

"You never have any food," Harry complains when Nick shuts off the sink, his statement startling Nick momentarily, but he manages not to jump at the very least.

Nick chortles when he sees that Harry's got his face stuffed into Nick's fridge, which - okay, is a bit sparse, but there is something edible in there Nick is pretty sure.

"I do too, you're just picky," Nick sniffs, trying not to remember how he used to specifically go shopping for the foods he knew Harry likes when he'd come over in the past.

Nick can't help but notice that Harry's acting just like he used to do whenever they'd spend time together; he's loose and relaxed and simultaneously messing up Nick's place and his plans while greatly improving the quality of his day all at once.

His behavior is wonderful, but also jarring since it isn't what Nick expected. He assumed Harry would be unsure of himself initially, or as nervous as Nick is at the prospect of being in his home again, but he's not, and Nick isn't really certain what to think of that.

"Well whatever that is, it doesn't look very appetizing," Harry groans as he continues to shift items around. Nick can't see what he's referring to, but honestly, he's probably right. "Let's get curry," Harry announces, leaving Nick sputtering at the suggestion even though it's not all that ludicrous.

"That's outrageous, having a curry on Monday," Nick scoffs, "that's only for Saturdays."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Harry states, one of his perfect eyebrows arching upward as he peers at Nick around the door of the fridge. "I'm hungry, and I'm paying, so I want curry."

"Forgot how demanding you are," Nick mutters under his breath, his eternal fondness for Harry bleeding through his tone even though he's not really in the mood for curry again since he just had it two days ago.

"Good, that's settled," Harry smirks in a manner that would be irritating if anyone else besides him looked at Nick that way. "What do you want? I'll call in the order right now," Harry questions over his shoulder as he digs through Nick's drawer of takeout menus that he apparently hasn't forgotten the location of.

"Just my usual chicken curry."

"Really Nick?" Harry's head snaps upward, his eyes flashing with something that Nick might label as delight, although he's not sure why the prospect of calling for food has Harry looking that way. "Don't tell me you've gotten boring since I last saw you."

"Boring - me?" Nick stutters, his hand coming up to cover his heart in a mocking display of injury. "Harold, you wound me."

"I'm picking something new for you," Harry tells him instead of asks, his dimples popping out as Nick pretends to swoon just to continue with his current dramatics even though his pulse just skipped so erratically the motion isn't entirely faked.

"But I like chicken curry," Nick huffs when Harry ignores his antics, making his way to Harry's side to try and snatch the phone from him, only for Harry to dart away quickly.

Nick feels sort of dizzy as he watches Harry prance into the main room, and no - it's not because Harry looks so beautiful and content and like he belongs here in Nick's place, because he doesn't - not anymore.

And although Nick really doesn't want to have to deal with whatever horrible curry Harry's probably going to force on him, he's enjoying seeing Harry smile and laugh too much to put up a proper argument, so he leaves him to it, busying himself with letting out Pig and Stinky Blob for a bit before locking them up so they won't try to run out when their food arrives.

"Do I even want to know what you got me?" Nick groans when he plops down next to Harry who's sprawled across the sofa just like he always used to, his long limbs relaxing and his chest rising gently as he nuzzles into Nick's new pillows which are much softer than the old ones.

"It's good, it's got potatoes, you'll love it," Harry promises, his finger coming up to poke at Nick's cheek when he scowls at Harry. "You can't be mad until you taste it."

"Fine, but really, did you have to order me double carbs? It's like you're taking revenge on not being able to fatten up the dogs by doing it to me instead."

"Oh no, you've uncovered my brilliant plan," Harry giggles hysterically, his eyes practically sparkling as he bounces back to his feet with the endless energy he still seems to possess even though he's no longer a teenager. "Don't put on the movie yet, I want some wine," Harry states as he makes his way back into the kitchen, clueless to the fact that Nick stares at him as he goes, completely mesmerized by Harry's every minute action.

When Harry returns with two glasses and a bottle of some kind of white wine that Nick doesn't remember having or else he'd have probably opened it earlier, Nick clinks their cups together before taking a sip, silently celebrating the return of Harry in his life even if it's only going to be a fleeting thing.

Harry immediately starts asking Nick how everyone at the station is doing, his genuine interest leaving Nick grinning as he fills Harry in on some of the more interesting bits of what's been happening at Radio One, which is quite a lot actually given their long stretch of no contact.

And in that moment, Nick thinks that he can get used to this, that having Harry here again is easier than he thought. He's still struggling to remember that they have boundaries now, that he can't press his lips against Harry's wine-soaked ones or tug him into his lap or touch him in any fashion, but his awkwardness eases away the more Harry talks, leaving Nick pleased and warm as they continue to swap stories while waiting for their food to arrive.

The doorbell rings just as Nick is regaling Harry with a recitation of his last encounter with Matty Healy who had co-hosted with him recently, interrupting his narration. The sound seems to shock Harry given the fact that he flinches, the spasm of his legs causing his knees to bump into Nick's before he pulls them back quickly.

Nick gets up rapidly in an attempt to hide his blush, and really - when the hell did he start turning red when someone brushes against him in such an innocent fashion, but it's Harry after all, so that's the only excuse Nick needs to explain why he's such a mess.

Apparently Harry's already paid with his card over the phone, so Nick simply thanks the delivery boy as he hands him their food, making sure to slip him a tip even though Harry probably covered that as well.

Nick's stomach rumbles in anticipation as the smell hits his nose during his return to the living room, but then he remembers that he's got some weird potato concoction waiting for him instead of a nice, safe chicken curry.

"Thank god," Harry exclaims when Nick tosses him his sandwich, "I'm starving."

"Some things never change," Nick mumbles under his breath, earning himself a soft bump to his side from Harry.

Harry doesn't move even when Nick shoves him back in retaliation, choosing instead to lean his weight into Nick as he unwraps his meal excitedly, which Nick shouldn't be so thrilled about, but his skin is practically vibrating everywhere that Harry's touching him.

"Are you going to eat yours?" Harry asks around a mouthful of food, his eyes locking onto Nick's sandwich that he hasn't touched yet. "You'll love it, I promise."

"Let me at least start the movie first," Nick protests just for the sake of being stubborn, and perhaps to give his stomach a few moments to contain the horde of butterflies that are swarming inside of it thanks to the constant pressure of Harry's body that's unfairly warm and inviting.

Harry whines and kicks his feet like a child, which shouldn't be as endearing as it is, but he does move so Nick can reach his laptop. He doesn't return to his original position when Nick pulls up the link Maisie sent him with the film, and even though Nick shouldn't be disappointed about that, he is just a bit.

"What's this called again?" Harry queries, somehow making the act of spraying crumbs across Nick's pristine carpet adorable, but Nick does manage to scowl at him despite his internal grin.

"iBoy, think it's supposed to be some sort of thriller," Nick shrugs as the video loads, using the opportunity to finally look at his sandwich which appears to be more of a fajita filled with potatoes than anything else, but whatever, Nick's hungry, so he's eating it. "I just need to be able to ask her some questions to prove that I at least sort of paid attention."

"Saving it until the last minute of course," Harry giggles, hiding his smile by taking another sip of his wine, his cheeks slightly flushed thanks to the alcohol Nick suspects, although he'd like to think some of the rosy tint is caused by their closeness.

"Hey - she only sent me it to me yesterday," Nick defends himself, not that he would have watched it any sooner if she'd gotten it to him weeks before, which Harry seems to know if his smothered laughter means anything at all.

"Well you're still not paying attention," Harry points out, and yes - all right, he's not wrong, but how in the hell is Nick supposed to focus on a movie when Harry Styles is beaming up at him like that?

"Because you're distracting me, never should have invited you over," Nick teases, taking a bite of his sandwich after he speaks, which is actually surprisingly good, but he's not going to inform Harry of that.

"If I wasn't here, you'd still be lazing about and you know it," Harry replies smugly, "and you wouldn't be eating a lovely curry sandwich, honestly Nick, I don't know how you survived without me."

Nick wants to say "I almost didn't", but he can't. That's too much, too heavy, and he refuses to ruin this evening with his feelings, so he just grins instead.

"I will admit that curry Monday's might be better than curry Saturday's, it's quite enjoyable actually, and now I don't have to go out after feeling stuffed and sleepy."

"And you like the sandwich?" Harry prods, his bottom lick sticking out slightly as if he's going to properly pout if Nick's answer isn't an affirmative.

"Yes Hazzah, it's very tasty." Nick gives in easily just like he always does with Harry, his body rushing with heat when Harry graces him with those bloody dimples again as he cheers obnoxiously. "Now hush, I've got to pay attention remember," Nick sighs while pointedly staring at the screen.

"Netflix, and chill, and curry," Harry whispers almost in defiance of Nick's instruction, but Nick's too busy choking on a bit of potato to chastise him, because yes - Harry is just messing around, but holy fuck.

It hadn't quite sunk in that what he and Harry are doing right now could easily end in them fooling around if it had occurred two years ago, but now it is, and Nick isn't ready to process that piece of information just yet.

"Really Harold?" Nick groans when he can speak again, but Harry only laughs like he's told the funniest joke in the world before he returns to his sandwich, actually managing to stay quiet for more than a minute this time which gives Nick a chance to focus on the movie.

And Nick does try to watch it - he really does, but it's so hard to take his eyes off of Harry, and once they're both finished with their food and they're sipping idly on the last of the wine, Nick finds himself gazing at Harry's profile more often than not, the glow from the laptop highlighting his pretty cheekbones and painting his skin in shades of blue that flatter him much more than a shitty glare should.

Nick notices all the little mannerisms that Harry still does as he observes him, taking delight in how little he's changed, not that it should surprise him since Harry breaking up with him hasn't morphed him into a new person.

Still - it's endearing to Nick how he plays with his hair even at its new length, or how he's constantly shifting and fidgeting, trying to find the best position to sit in, and the way he picks at the rip in his jeans absentmindedly when the film gets a bit slow, and really, none of that's anything special, but Nick loves it - loves Harry - fuck, here he goes with that train of thought again.

So Nick ends up playing tug of war with his gaze more than anything else, managing to catch bits of the movie that seem important while still gawking at Harry more than he probably should.

Harry doesn't notice though - thank god for that, and he actually seems fairly invested in this film, he even jumps occasionally at certain parts.

Each time he flinches, Nick shifts closer to him subconsciously until there is barely an inch of space between them, but he doesn't close the gap, no matter how tempting it is.

And just when Nick is stubbornly trying to bury his pesky adoration for Harry that keeps popping up at inconvenient times back in the dark hole he's been storing it in, Harry moves closer to Nick, pressing their thighs together gently as Harry yawns and rests his head on Nick's stiff shoulder.

And okay - this is fine...friends cuddle all the time right?

Of course they do; Nick is so clingy when he's with Aimee that an outsider would assume he's dating her, so this doesn't mean anything, except for the fact that Nick's heart is beating out of his chest and his lungs are seizing and he thinks he might actually be about to faint, but he's too scared to move in case Harry catches on to how panicked he is.

Harry's either pretending not to notice Nick's rigid posture or he's too cozy to care, and after a few minutes, Nick manages to relax slightly.

It's nice having Harry this close, nerve wracking, but familiar too, and if Harry wants to be a bit affectionate with him as they watch a film, Nick's not going to complain.

Nick forces himself to lie back when Harry stays where he is, flexing his tense spine as he sinks into the cushions, and Harry goes with him, his body remaining directly against Nick's like they are glued together.

Before Nick can second guess himself, he wraps his arm loosely around Harry's side, something heavy and warm unfurling in his chest when Harry sighs happily and nuzzles his face into Nick's neck just like he used to do.

"Sleepy popstar?" Nick asks, the nickname slipping past his lips easily, granting him a pleased hum from Harry who only burrows himself deeper into the space that always seemed to be made just for him.

"Maybe a little," Harry admits in a low rumble, "had a busy day earlier." Harry pauses for a moment, his torso shifting from side to side before he speaks again. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, lovely," Nick chokes out, trying his hardest to keep any emotion from coloring his tone and failing miserably, but Harry just grins against his skin and settles back down.

Nick keeps repeating to himself on an endless mantra that he needs to not read into this, that Harry's always been touchy, even before they dated or whatever the fuck they did, that Harry probably cozies up like this with all of his mates, that Nick isn't special anymore, that this doesn't mean anything, but it doesn't stop him from inhaling deeply, breathing in the faint scent of whatever cologne Harry's got on mixed with his laundry detergent and that soft pleasant smell that always clings to Harry's clothes even when he's not wearing them.

And once again, Nick feels like he's been transported back in time to when they'd first done this, because in so many ways, it feels the same. He's just as scared as he was then, filled with insecurities and confusion and an overwhelming longing for Harry that obliterates everything when Nick allows himself to dwell on it for more than a second.

And although Nick's attempting not to get his hopes up, maybe this is Harry's way of saying he wants to try again with Nick, that he misses him as more than just a friend, or maybe not. Nick could be grasping at straws and turning an innocent cuddle into a love proclamation. He's honestly clueless in regards to what Harry's thinking at the moment.

It doesn't really matter right now though, not when Harry's dozing off and Nick's got him in his arms which is something that he thought was forever out of reach for him barely a month ago.

But it seems like Harry is determined to fuck with Nick's head just when he's gotten comfortable, because as Nick is finally managing to get sort of interested in the movie, Harry moves, causing his lips to graze along the hollow of Nick's collarbone with such a soft pressure it should be hardly noticeable, but it leaves Nick shivering all the same.

"Still a sensitive spot for you?" Harry asks, and he doesn't sound half asleep at all, no - he sounds very aware of himself, filled with curiosity and awe and fuck, Nick is so fucked.

"Yeah," Nick confesses, because it is, Harry knows that, god - Harry used to suck dark marks onto his skin there because he knew how much Nick loved it.

Harry puts his mouth back in the same place when he snuggles closer, scraping his teeth over it this time which has Nick biting back a gasp.

Nick wants to ask what Harry's doing, or maybe why would be a better inquiry, but he's forgotten how to speak, and he's too afraid Harry will cease his nibbling if he blatantly questions him.

Nick throws his head back when Harry bites down harder, his skull thudding dully against the sofa as he tries not to moan, or pull Harry closer, or kiss him, or any of the million things he wants to do to him. Harry continues to press down with his teeth, most likely leaving indents which he then licks over gently with his tongue.

"Alright?" Harry asks breathily, his tone so hesitant and eager all at once, and fuck - Nick isn't mentally equipped to handle this. He has no idea what's going on, but he doesn't want it to stop.

"Harry," Nick chokes out since apparently that's the first word that popped into his head, his neck tilting forward so he can meet Harry's eyes which are dark and glittering, his pupils expanding as he peers up at Nick questioningly.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry pleads softly, his voice emitting in an even deeper pitch than usual, and that's it for Nick.

Nick surges forward so roughly he almost knocks Harry off the couch, his lips seeking Harry's desperately, their noses bumping together as Harry kisses him back with just as much force. His fingers dig into Nick's jumper which he immediately starts tugging upward, inspiring Nick to toss it over his head before he returns to kissing Harry with as much fervor as he can muster.

Harry kisses just like Nick remembers, his mouth is warm and slick, his body going lax against Nick's as he whimpers into his mouth while Nick begins working on the buttons of his shirt.

Harry tosses the fabric away from his torso once it's completely unfastened, his hands immediately locking around Nick's neck so he can drag their bare skin together in a manner that feels so good Nick can't believe that it's real.

"Haz, love...wait." Nick makes himself disconnect from Harry's lips with great difficulty when he begins rolling his hips down heavily, his chest heaving as Harry gasps wetly, his eyes unfocused and glazed when they meet Nick's. "What do you want?"

Nick has to hear Harry say it, because as incredible as this is, he's so afraid that he's going to fuck up and damage something within their newfound friendship, or that Harry will regret this in the morning even though he hasn't had enough wine to really even be properly tipsy. Nick isn't strong enough to stop, but he has to give Harry the chance to do so before this escalates any further.

"I - I don't...Nickk..." Harry whines, his words emerging in a desperate mumble that goes straight to Nick's cock, his head hanging down as he speaks, preventing Nick from reading anything off of his expression.

"It's alright," Nick murmurs, although he's not sure who the sentiment is meant for, himself or Harry.

"I just...you don't have to, but fuck, I'm so hard," Harry whispers, and oh god - he is. His cock is straining against his trousers, the hot pressure of it pushing into Nick's belly when Harry tilts his hips forward needily.

"Tell me if you want my help," Nick grits out, needing audible confirmation that this is okay with Harry before he does anything, even though his body is all but screaming at him to ravish Harry now and ask questions later.

Harry doesn't answer at first, he's too busy fumbling with his jeans, somehow managing to get himself out of the stiff fabric without standing up, which is a skill that Nick's never been able to emulate, making it even more fascinating to watch than it already is.

When Harry's left in nothing but his clingy black pants, he seats himself back down in Nick's lap, making sure to push their lower halves together, leaving Nick so dizzy he swears he sees spots dancing at the corner of his vision when Harry's gaze meets his, his lids heavy and drooping already.

"Please touch me."

Nick doesn't know what to say, or maybe he can't speak, so he just kisses Harry again instead, his hands smoothing through Harry's cropped locks, attempting to get enough leverage to tug at them like he knows Harry likes so much.

Nick is almost certain that he somehow died from one minute to the next and he's in Heaven, because this is everything he's been dreaming about for months, or maybe this is a brilliant hallucination and he's going to wake up any second now.

Nick's heart is beating so quickly he is sure it's going to burst soon, if it hasn't already and his death scenario isn't playing itself out, but whatever the case may be, he's going to make the most of every second he has left.

Harry moans sharply into Nick's mouth, breaking him out of his musings, his muscles going slack and tense all at once when Nick sucks on his bottom lip.

Nick can't stop touching him, his fingertips trace over his ribs, his thumb brushes over his nipples, his other hand still fisted in his hair, and it's still not enough.

Apparently it isn't for Harry either, because when Nick pulls away to catch his breath, he sees Harry with his cock out and his pants stretching at his thighs, the fabric digging into the pale skin there, leaving red lines behind that Nick wants to trace over with his tongue.

Nick gasps aloud at the sight, his hips twitching upward without his consent when Harry whimpers softly as he fucks into his fist.

"Please Nick," Harry groans when Nick remains frozen in place, his gaze locked onto Harry's length which is pink and red at the tip, precome dripping down it as if Harry's been hard for the entire movie.

Nick's hand moves to Harry's belly before he's aware of himself, allowing him to feel Harry's abdomen flexing as their knuckles brush against each other roughly.

Harry's panting heavily already, his chest flushing red and his eyes fluttering shut before he snaps them back open, fixing Nick with a pleading stare that Nick can't ignore.

"It's alright love," Nick whispers hoarsely, his hand gently moving Harry's away so he can wrap his fingers around him instead, earning himself a guttural moan from Harry that's so obscene Nick can feel himself leaking into his pants. "I've got you."

Harry collapses against Nick when he drags his palm down his length, his entire body going boneless and pliant as he gasps against Nick's shoulder.

As lovely as it is having Harry pressed against him from stomach to chest, it's a terrible angle for Nick's wrist, so he gently pushes Harry onto his back, settling himself in between his legs which automatically spread for him just like they always used to.

Nick takes the time to remove Harry's pants entirely before he strips away his own jeans as well, giving his cock a bit of relief now that it's not digging into his zipper constantly.

Nick's cock pulses as he nestles himself against Harry's thighs, memories of nights spent in this same position assaulting him, remembrances of Harry begging Nick to fuck him, of the sounds he would make when Nick would push inside of him, of how tight he felt - fuck, Nick's almost certain he could come just from this.

Nick wants to experience all of that again, god - he aches for it, but at the same time, this is more than he ever thought he'd receive this evening, so he's not going to be an idiot and press his luck by asking for more.

"God Hazzah," Nick groans as he circles Harry's tip, wetting his hand with the precome dripping from him before he begins to work up a steady rhythm that he knows will have Harry losing it within minutes, "forgot how pretty you looked like this."

"Kiss me?" Harry pleads, his mouth falling open and his neck straining, almost as if Nick's touch has paralyzed him entirely, his lower half chasing the pressure of Nick's hand with jerky movements that Nick isn't going to bother controlling even though he always used to make Harry wait for it in the past.

Nick bends himself over so his lips can graze against Harry's, their melding quickly growing sloppy when Nick plays with Harry's balls briefly, dragging pleased noises out of him that are even better than Nick had remembered.

And although a part of Nick is having a mini meltdown, he can't help but fall back into this like they never stopped. He and Harry aren't the same people they were two years ago, but this is.

Harry still sounds the same, reacts the same when Nick drags his thumb over his perineum, still begs and whines and clutches to Nick like he's the only thing keeping him grounded when he focuses on the sensitive spots that he'd discovered long ago, and that pleases Nick more than it probably should.

Nick knows Harry's body better than his own, and time hasn't erased that, if anything, it's clearer than it's ever been. Nick will never forget what it's like to touch Harry, or what he prefers, of how exhilarating it is to be the one making Harry squirm and cry out, and this reminder has only solidified the fact that Nick is really mad for Harry. It's never been like this with anyone else, and Nick doubts it ever will be.

And Nick still loves it just as much as he did back then, god - he's harder than he should be considering the fact that his cock hasn't been touched yet, but watching Harry fall apart because of his touch has Nick pushing his crotch into Harry's thigh whenever the angle lines up, his lips dragging against the column of Harry's throat when his spine arches and his nails dig into Nick's side.

Harry cries out when Nick digs his thumb into his slit, his entire body going tense as a strangled noise emerges from his swollen lips.

"Nick - don't...don't stop," Harry gasps, his legs kicking out as he tries to gain more leverage with which to shove up into Nick's fist.

"I know you're close sweetheart, I want you to come for me," Nick encourages him, chasing his words with a harsh flick of his wrist, his tone awestruck and filled with adoration, but he's too overwhelmed to bother trying to hide how much he's enjoying this.

That's all Harry needs to start spilling over Nick's knuckles, a few drops of his come splashing against his belly before Nick gets his free hand in between them to catch the rest of it so that it won't leave stains on his sofa.

Nick keeps his hand around Harry's cock even once he's empty, knowing Harry loves the slight edge of too much, which is apparent in his shaking limbs and his broken moans, but sooner than Harry probably likes, Nick has to let him go so he can get his own cock out of his pants.

He pushes the fabric down to the top of his thighs before he wraps the hand splattered in Harry's come around himself, an embarrassing groan leaving his lips as his cock swells and his stomach churns. He drinks in the sight of Harry covered in a light sheen of sweat while he works his length, his long limbs splayed out all around him as his chest heaves and his shoulders vibrate with small tremors.

Nick may or may not whimper when Harry sits up suddenly, knocking him back onto his heels as he shifts his position on the sofa, crowding Nick into the corner so he can kneel down in front of him.

Nick is helpless to do anything but watch as Harry bats his hand out of the way, his wet mouth sinking down over Nick's cock before he can tell Harry that he doesn't have to reciprocate anything.

And Nick does try to speak, to assure Harry that he can get himself off, but then Harry inhales deeply and pushes his nose into the wiry curls surrounding the base of Nick's cock, his throat fluttering around his length in a manner that has Nick's hands tangling in the short strands of hair at the back of Harry's neck as he tries not to come instantly.

"Close - Harry, I'm gonna come," Nick croaks out when Harry begins bobbing his head eagerly, his thighs aching with the strain he's putting on them as he tries not to snap his hips forward so he can properly fuck Harry's mouth like he's dying to.

Harry only moans around Nick's cock, his eyes watering slightly as he stares at Nick determinedly, and fuck - Nick can't hold back, not with Harry on his knees for him and his green gaze shimmering and blown out as he sucks heavily on the crown of Nick's cock, so he lets himself come. His lids slam shut as his hips snap into Harry's mouth, the wet heat drawing out his orgasm for so long that Nick almost can't handle the insane amount of sensations flooding through his bloodstream.

Nick tugs Harry upward when he remembers how to move again, his tongue darting out across his slack mouth, tasting himself and wine as he kisses him tenderly until Harry's completely slumped against him and Nick's lungs ache so badly he has to disconnect their mouths so he can drag in some much needed air.

Nick wants to ask what just happened, or why Harry did that, and if it meant anything, but he's so scared, and dazed, and just so fucking in love with Harry that if the answering is anything other than the one he wants he doesn't think he'll be able to handle having his heart broken a second time.

So Nick doesn't say a word, he just presses his lips against Harry's forehead before getting up, quickly making his way into the kitchen once he's readjusted his pants so he can wet a towel.

Harry doesn't ask where he's going, or try to follow him, and when Nick returns to the living room, Harry's curled up in the spot Nick was previously in, his tattooed skin that Nick's seen too many times to count capturing his attention so thoroughly that Nick almost trips over the coffee table as he makes his way back to Harry's side.

Harry hums happily as Nick cleans him up, a soft smile tugging at his mouth when Nick helps him back into his pants, leaving the rest of their clothing off since Nick doubts he'll be able to wrestle either of them into their jeans right now.

Harry immediately cuddles up against Nick when he sits down, his hand clutching onto his thigh as Nick rewinds the movie a bit so he can try and hide how shaken he is behind the pretense of needing to see the ending of the film.

Harry's asleep by the time it's over, and fuck - Nick spends the entire however long it's been watching Harry again instead of paying attention to the plot, but whatever, he'll just focus on the beginning scenes and pray that Maisie doesn't notice.

And even when the credits stop rolling across the screen, Nick remains where he is, his body perfectly still as his eyes drink in the picture that he and Harry make right now.

It's just like it used to be; Nick's once clean living room is trashed with takeout containers and empty wine glasses, and Harry's snuggled into him and Nick's so bloody happy he has to pinch himself to make sure that he isn't dreaming.

Harry looks so - so right with his head in Nick's lap and his slender legs curled up under the throw blanket, and although Nick has no idea if Harry had simply gotten bored and a bit horny, or if it was just instinctual after they'd spent so long doing similar things together that had caused this, but honestly, it doesn't matter.

He's got Harry here now, and he's sleepy and sated. They can talk in the morning, or never, because really, Nick will take whatever Harry's willing to give him, and if this is only a one-off, he doesn't want to waste the rest of the evening pondering Harry's motivates when he could be holding him instead.

Nick's tempted to move them into his bedroom, but he thinks that might be too forward, so he stays where he is, doing his best to stretch out next to Harry without waking him, and apparently curry and orgasms are all Nick needs to find himself dozing off, and maybe the fact that he's wrapped around Harry is helping a bit with that.

~~~

When Nick wakes up, Harry's right there next to him.

Harry's exhaling warm puffs of air against Nick's chest, his arm looped over Nick's back like he'd clung to him during the night, and fuck - Nick's never been so tempted to call into work before then he is right now.

He makes himself get up though, mostly in an effort to avoid whatever awkward conversation is going to ensue after Harry regains his senses.

Nick's sure it won't actually be all that bad; knowing Harry, he'll probably be able to tell that Nick doesn't want to talk about it and he'll just laugh the whole thing off, but Nick would rather flee altogether so he can pretend that Harry's still in love with him and last night meant just as much to him as it did to Nick.

Nick throws on the first clean clothing he spots, doing his best to fix his quiff which is in a right state after sleeping on the sofa last night, but at least it looks better than his sore muscles feel.

Nick forgets about his discomfort though when he pads back into the living room to grab his shoes, because Harry's peering up at him blearily, a pout tugging at his lips as he observes Nick tying up his laces.

"You leaving?" Harry asks, his tone sounding so wistful that Nick thinks his blood has turned into sugar, there's no other explanation for why he's suddenly become so ridiculously soppy.

"Yeah, just for work though, be back around eleven if you want to stay."

Which - what the fuck, Nick didn't meant to say that, because he's not ready to face Harry after having his hand around his cock not too long ago, but apparently his brain thinks he is, and when Harry beams up at him before snuggling back down into the blanket he has tucked up under his chin, Nick doesn't regret his offer all that much.

"Mhmm," Harry mumbles sleepy, which could mean anything, but Nick's too busy staring at his sharp cheekbones and long eyelashes to try and figure out if that's an affirmative or not.

"See you later popstar," Nick smiles when Harry appears to be nodding off again, resisting the urge to kiss him as he turns around reluctantly.

"Nick," Harry speaks up suddenly, startling him so much he may have jumped a bit, "I missed you."

And - fuck...okay, that's...just a lot.

Nick might be reading into it too deeply, but for once, he doesn't think he is. Harry's on his couch practically naked and he's telling Nick he missed him after they got off with each other last night, which - god, that has to mean something.

"I missed you too," Nick chokes out, his eyes which are not teary at all except that they actually are glancing back over his shoulder so he can send Harry a small wave. "Want me to bring you back some lunch?"

"Only if it's Chinese food," Harry mumbles.

"Spoilt child," Nick responds fondly, his heart swelling so fiercely in his chest that he thinks he might need to seek out medical attention if it doesn't stop soon, but honestly, Nick wouldn't mind if he keeled over right here and now, at least he'll have died happy.

Nick may still be confused, and a bit petrified about what his future holds and if Harry's going to be a part of it, but it seems that Harry still cares for Nick, which is more than he ever thought he'd receive.

He's still madly in love with Harry, he probably always will be, but it's not as painful now as it was a week ago. He thinks he can live with whatever Harry needs him to be, whether that's a friend, or someone to shag occasionally, or a boyfriend.

As long as Harry's in his life in some way, Nick's happy, so much so that he smiles the entire way to work and he can't shut up about Harry for more than ten minutes.

And when Harry messages Nick a simple "I missed you talking about me on the radio", Nick's stomach flips over and his grin grows so wide it almost hurts, which he could definitely get used to, and apparently so can Harry since he texts back ten seconds later.

"We should do this again soon."

And yes - Nick is perfectly okay with that.