This note was written in January I think but I won't change it — but now this story has 112K and I have 7.18K followers🥺
Pre-note: First of all, i just want to thank you all for 7K followers and 100K on this story. it is a huge milestone because i never thought this story would get this popular when i started writing it. at the beginning, harry wasn't even supposed to become a don 0-0 wild, i know. so, this story was supposed to be particularly short, more of a good vs. bad until one of them gets caught (think of 'Don't Call Me Angel') but i am so incredibly proud of this story. it holds such a dear place to my heart because of how much my writing has changed since i started it. this being the first story where i started writing with the flow of what i felt and discovering things i never knew about myself. also thank you again for 7K followers.

you are all so special to me. i am so thankful you're all enjoy it and are here for the ride. thank you for this. thank you for reading, voting, commenting and sharing. loving you always. wishing you the best. stay safe !!
here's ch. 28 (with a twist of a scene in ch. 14, because of character development)

P.S. please check the latest announcement on my message board regarding updates on updates/my life and the epilogue for two of my other fics !!

WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: reckless driving!

Songs:
Is It A Crime - Sade
Woman - Harry Styles
Prisoner - The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey
Laughing On The Outside - Bernadette Carroll (p.s. thank you to whoever commented this song :^P)

The jazz music sounds through the ballroom, coming from the singer and band on the stage in the far corner. One floor above on the gallery are a few guests, they laugh and enjoy themselves. They were so calm despite being unarmed according to Leopoldo since every weapon was locked away, unlike Harry's gun that was nestled in a holster under his jacket.

Louis had given him some of his gifts already. A new cross necklace, but silver this time. A few new rings, one was a lion with a jewel in between its teeth, a sliver snake, and a pair of angel wings, all of which Harry was wearing now. On his wrist was one of two vintage Rolex watches, the heavy gold catching light every time his sleeve rid up.

Louis' Gift to Harry (the watches at least): Rare & Vintage Rolex.

[1st: $270,358.17 and 2nd: $137,223.53... O-O]

Worst of all, Louis said that those fairly expensive gifts were only the beginning. Harry knew Louis didn't mean to flaunt his money and rub it in his face, but it always made him nervous knowing how much Louis has spent on him so far. The memory of spotting a shiny new Tesla in his parking spot was still fresh in his mind. Instead of complaining (which he did at first, but Louis shut him up with a bunch of kisses,) he got shy whenever he was complimented on his new jewelry and deeply praised Louis' generosity.

Harry excuses himself from the few people, promising to swing by later in the evening to continue their conversation about Harry and Louis' potential visit to Africa, for business, the older gentleman concludes after telling stories about him and his spouse in their home city.

He moves fluidly, shaking hands throughout the room and speaking to guests. It's strange because Louis isn't by his side. Harry didn't need to look to him for guidance anymore, he was self-assured and calm. A collected man who was charming every person in attendance, a striking difference to the first time he met these people.

A small hand lands on Harry's arm, squeezing his bicep. "I quite like this song, don't you, sweetheart?"

The Agent looks to his side, "Hey, darling, but I think it's almost done."

"Don't you still want to dance?" Another squeeze.

"Well, actually—"

"I said I quite like this song." Louis' eyelashes flutter, playing innocent while his nails dig into Harry's bicep. "Don't you, honey?"

Harry grins at the Donna then turns to the women and men who have surrounded him. "My apologies, everyone, it seems Ma Reine wants a dance."

He brings Louis to the center of the dancefloor, the black and beige tiles shine beneath their feet as the moonlight glimmers through the stain-glass ceiling. The light casts on Louis' face and Harry can't resist pressing a chaste kiss on his lips before placing both hands on his waist. Louis' hands rest on his shoulders and couples continue to sway around them, the two of them falling into synchronization.

"Those people seem nice. A few of them are from Russia or Asia and usually keep to themselves but they've grown fond of you." Louis' tone is stiff as he locks his eyes with Harry's necklace.

"I didn't know you had so many connections around the world. Many of their files have landed on my desk before being assigned to someone else—actually, burdened may be a better-suited word." Harry lowers his voice, easily muted under the jazz singer.

"Are your suspects too hard to catch, daddy?"

Their feet move together flawlessly, neither is one step behind. "Not really, one of them fell right into my arms. Almost hopelessly, may I add." It's faint, but Harry swears he saw Louis' eye twitch.

The Donna's tone goes cold and sharp, sending goosebumps over Harry's skin. "Oh, maybe you should continue speaking to your guests. Perhaps some of them would love for you to slap a pair of handcuffs on their wrists."

When Louis pulls away, Harry doesn't let him get too far. Nuzzling his nose into the Donna's neck, bathing in his hypnotizing perfume. "How long have you been watching me come up with that conclusion?"

Louis glares up at him, his usual sweet features are now a little on the spicier side.

"You think they want me, baby?" The Agent asks. Abruptly dipping the Donna as a quiet gasp slips from his lips. "You think they could handle me?" His hand squeezes Louis' thigh over his dress, licking one long stripe from his collarbones to his jaw. "I'm not an easy man to please."

Louis scoffs, his fingers digging into Harry's shoulder and arm. "I disagree. And with that statement, you've added liar to that list as well."

Harry chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. He nibbles on Louis' neck, barely touching the heated skin with his teeth. He grips Louis' hip. "I beg to differ, doll. My taste is very, very particular. Do you want to know what it is?"

Again, that same gasp falls from Louis' lips as Harry pulls him up, resuming their previous and less sexual position.

He moves fast, spinning Louis and letting go to watch him twirl to the middle of the dance floor. His dress swaying as he steadied himself easily, he was always calculated and composed. He didn't stumble, hell, he never stumbled. Either one step ahead of Harry, or on the same page, never straying behind.

In the centre of the tiled floor, heels pointed in effortless symmetry, Louis stands with a calm expression and an intriguing twinkle.

The Agent walks to him, sheer flouncy sleeves brushing his wrists, he keeps his hands to himself while Louis drags a hand down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons. There it is, that flicker of urgency in his blue eyes, the look that told Harry exactly what he wanted. He circles him slowly, like a wild beast to a mere forest creature. A hungry wolf preying on a tiny, plump bunny.

"My love is wider than Victoria Lake,
Taller than the Empire State,"

"I'd say I'm a simple man, but that would be a harsh understatement." His lips twist into a smirk, "I like a bit of heat, someone not afraid to burn me if I push them a little too far. The kind of man who's going to keep me on my toes." Harry rasps, volume dropping. "Someone not afraid of a challenge, an omniscient force built from conviction, prowess and influence—puissance, in literal terms, if you will."

"It dives, it jumps,"

"People like that don't come often, and it just so happens that the one person who satisfies my specific taste is quite the handful." Harry follows where Louis' dainty fingers were working on the buttons on his jacket. "A masterpiece of a heavenly soul and devilish talent. In the eyes of others, he's the queen on a chessboard. But through mine, he's more and he's far different. He glows, do you know what he shines like?"

"I can't give you more than that, surely you want me back,"

Louis shakes his head, small breaths escaping his glossy lips. "No."

"He shines like the moon, baby, a diamond in the night sky. He's more than a piece in a game to me, he's my lover."

"Is it a crime,
Is it a crime,"

Louis' hand falls when Harry steps behind him, still not touching him but that didn't stop Louis from feeling radiating his body heat. The Agent's signature tobacco vanilla cologne clouding the Donna's senses. He comes to Louis' left, eyeing up his curves hungrily. Nearly licking his teeth like an animal.

"He's a sweetheart who doesn't mind getting a little dirty. He provokes me. Tests my patience and teases me every chance he gets. But he knows this dynamic won't last forever, people will stop referring to me as his pet, and instead, I'll be his partner. Our relationship has already changed dramatically since we first met, and he knows it's only a matter of time before the tables turn and I'll test his patience."

Louis' hands rest on his chest again, he's listening with rapt attention and his knees tremble.

"Perhaps in the future, we will be neck and neck most of the time," the temperature rises with every second, "outside eyes would watch a constant battle for control—but between the two of us, he's much different. Always dressing up and playing the nightmare but he just wants to fall into my arms like a desperate Angel."

Louis' breath stutters when Harry's hand touches his cheek. Delicately cradling it with his soft palm and rough fingertips. Cold rings meeting heated, flushed skin, the shock sends a stream of comfort and familiarity through Louis' where it lands in his mind, his vision tunnelling—and at its centre is Harry. They are close enough that their noses brush. The Agent delights in the way Louis begs silently for a kiss, only for Harry to remain distant. The Donna's whimper is music to Harry's ears, he'd put it on a record and listen to it day and night.

"And I'd catch him. Every time he wants me, every time he needs me, I'll be there." This went far beyond a mere sexual attraction, it was heavy with the promise of emotional support.

"For as long as he'll put up with a man like me—my heart is beating in his hands, my deepest thoughts and desires trailing behind his feet, and my soul—as tainted and blue as it may be, is bared to his eyes only." He speaks with confidence. "For him and only him, I am just a man. Not an Agent, not a corrupted version of my past self. To him, I am vulnerable."

"Does that frighten you?"

"No. I am vulnerable to him because I trust him. I allow him into my mind, to read and dissect who I am because I am confident he will never hurt me." He declares, "My vulnerability is not weakness—it is trust, and that my dear, may be the greatest weapon of all."

"Tell me is it a crime."

"Though, my lover has yet to realize I am not leaving him," his tone silky and his fingers trace Louis' cheekbones, his thumb brushes his lips, "I am here to stay. Nothing, not a knife to my throat or a gun to my head will scare me away. I am his, just as much as he is mine."

Harry has stars in his eyes, a face full of adoration and promise. "I am devoted to you, Foxglove. Believe me."

Louis holds his gaze. The veil has lifted, and Louis is standing defenceless on a battlefield.

"As clever and intelligent as he may be, he has yet to grasp that." He slowly drops his hands to his sides. He keeps Louis close, pressing their front together as the music bounces off the stone walls. "Though his eyes and lips tell me he's mine, he'll make me beg for him—" The smallest voice in Harry's mind concludes it all. He'd do anything for Louis. Live for him, die for him—but could he kill for him? It's one thing to risk his own life, but to end another's was different, at least to him it was. "—because even the most faithful angels can't resist the temptation of chaos."

There is honesty and lust curling around Harry's disclosure.

A shudder goes down Louis' spine, following after Harry's wandering hands. "Isn't that right, Louis?" Punctuating his name with a pale kiss. Telling more than Harry could ever write or say, it's soft with zeal and overwhelming with feeling.

Harry slowly tongues into his mouth, tasting alcohol and red velvet, most importantly, tasting Louis. Both his hands pull him closer, the kiss growing heated. His cock rubs against the Donna's stomach while Louis grinds against his thigh. His whine has Harry growling like a beast, biting on Louis' lip to pry his lips open further. A delicious burn blooms from the nape of his neck where Louis' fingers have made home, wildly pulling the strands.

The song switches into a slow tempo with heavy drum beats, the woman who was previously singing switches spots with the bassist. A flutter of piano keys sound before the rest of the instruments kick in. The Agent forces himself away before they fully start making love on the dance floor. A string of saliva connecting their raw lips. "And with that, I hope you know there's no reason to be jealous, Foxglove." Harry smirks, pressing his fingers into his angel's, his lover's waist.

"I'm selfish, I know,
I told you, but I know you never listen,"

Louis' chest is rising and falling rapidly, eyes darting between Harry's eyes and his lips. He's just so gone, and Harry is responsible.

"Jealous?" Louis scoffs lightly, feigning feistiness. "As if you'd ever score better than me."

Harry lets out a low chuckle, finding amusement in Louis' quick change in character. He smiles with an open mouth with his tongue pressing into his cheek. He feels Louis glare at him, probably because he looks cocky now. "You're right, baby. I'm never going to find better than you." Harry brings the Donna into his arms before releasing him and stepping back, "never going to find someone more divine with a brighter fire, someone who can beat me in the ring and still have the ability to make me weak in the knees."

He tugs on the Donna's arm, hard, and Louis spins into his arms. "Never going to find someone who'd threaten to kill me during a fight, then love on me days later."

"But you're making me bleed,"

"I'd hardly call grinding, loving on." Louis pushes back, his backside rubbing on the Agent's hardening member under his pants. The Donna glances around the room before his chin is gripped tightly. His gaze forced to meet Harry's over his shoulder.

They move as the chorus rings through the open air, the slow rock muffling the guests' chatter and the occasional clank of glasses. It covers them, warm yet intense and carrying the weight of anticipation.

"Tempted, you know,
Apologies are never gonna fix this,"

Harry drinks in Louis' scent and presence, feeling it down to his toes and his fingertips. It seeps through his skin, igniting a flame deep within. It glows bright, beaming almost.

"Your tongue is fairly quick tonight, baby, despite my heartfelt speech. Maybe you need a reminder on what that mouth does best." Harry remarks, dragging his thumb along Louis' bottom lip before barely dipping the tip in.

"And if I bite you?"

"Then, I'd have you sit on my face until you're crying, and absolutely dripping for me. Taking you to your high until you're sobbing and that cock of yours is milked dry. And you'd let me overstimulate you, stuffing you full of my fingers and my tongue even though you're sensitive because the bottom line is that you're my baby. And you'll always give me what I want."

"This thing upon me, howls like a beast,
You flower, you feast,"

A glint of something tastefully filthy flashes in Louis' eyes, pooling with hunger as he envisions Harry's words.

"Then, I'll be sure to bite as hard as I can."

The Agent chuckles, "That's what I love most about you, Foxglove."

The four letters slip from Harry's mouth before his brain could catch up. Embarrassment erupting on his face. Was it possible to love something about someone before loving them? Harry asks himself. That was if he didn't already love Louis.

The Donna twists around, his ass no longer pressed to Harry's groin. He tugs down the front of the man's jacket, licking his lips. "You've healed nicely, would be a shame if I made it a fresh cut again."

Harry blinks down at him, desperately wondering if Louis heard him. But the man is hard to read, blues locked with Harry's pectoral muscles. "If you want to then go ahead, baby. I felt your blade when I dipped you."

The Donna hums, kissing the scar on the man's chest, above his heart. Harry wants nothing more than for Louis to surround him, drip all over him and finally drown him until he can't taste anything but his tantalizing being and honey lips.

Harry bites his lip, trailing his fingers down Louis' dress to cup his ass. "You look so pretty, doll." He squeezes the flesh. "Could take you right now..."

Louis' eyes shine, matching the twinkle of the diamond on his cheek. He leans up as far as he can but even then, his lips merely brush the Agent's jaw. "Save that for later." He pulls away, before spinning back into Harry's arms. He's cradled by the muscles clad in blue. "Your surprise doesn't end when this party does. In fact, I'd say it goes well into the morning hours."

Harry escapes the crowded ballroom to the garden. About ten minutes ago, he lost Louis. He left to the bar and never came back. Then, Harry set off looking for him. First, he went to the upper level of the ballroom and even stopped by the bathroom before finding the door to the garden.

Even in the darkness, it was lush and green. Healthy grass, and a variety of flowers blooming around the stone walkway. Visible in the moonlight and outdoor lamps are vermillion roses, dahlias and blue hydrangeas. A fountain in the center with two paths on either side. One lead to a glimmering kidney-shaped pool and the other into a greenhouse. Harry peeks through the glass, spotting the Donna on a bench with a phone to his ear. He waits until the call is ended to knock on the glass door.

The man looks up. "Hi."

"You okay, darling?" Harry asks, walking to him in precise steps. "You ditched me back there."

Harry nearly loses it when Louis blushes.

"I got a call from New York, they've closed the case on the body behind Nine Lives."

"You mean they were bribed to close?" Harry raises a brow.

Louis sighs dreamily. "You know me so well."

"Sure do, love." Harry dips down, capturing Louis' lips in his own. It's not a lewd exchange, because yes, he could be soft sometimes, especially with his Foxglove. Their lips move slow, tasting each other in a drawn-out session that lands them on the bench with Louis in Harry's lap.

They separate and Harry licks his lips, eyes tracing the Donna's exquisite cheekbones and down to the unmarred expanse of his neck. "I like your house."

Louis thanks him with a cup of his jaw, he smiles. "It's my private home, as private as it can be with chefs, gardeners and housekeepers. Sometimes I'll stay in the mansion with everyone else... but this," he points over his shoulder, "is my blood-related family home."

"You grew up here?" The Agent raises his eyebrows.

He nods. "Zayn and I used to play outside for hours. In the winter we'd build snow forts until we were frozen and in the summer, we swam in the pool until we were sunburnt."

Harry can't contain his fond. "That's adorable, baby. Do you have any photo albums?"

"Are you hoping to embarrass me with my baby photos?"

"Maybe." Harry smiles cheekily, "Show me later, yeah?"

Louis is reluctant and eventually accepts with rosy cheeks.

Before they grew close, Harry wanted to indulge in Louis like religion and praise him like a god. Now, it was the same, with the same masterpiece but Harry admired him without rose-coloured glasses. He's studied the strokes and edges, memorizing every colour and shape. He's grown a deeper connection to Louis, and looked at him like he put the sun and stars in the sky. All because he's the embodiment of everything Harry's ever wanted, sweet, strong, determined and definitely not afraid to get a little rough.

Domestic dreams aside, Louis was worth the risks in every aspect. Harry wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

"May I help you?" Louis asks, looking at Harry. Since he was in Harry's lap, they were at eye level.

Harry is a little flushed from being caught. But, Louis was all too magnificent, how could he not stare? "Have you ever been in love?"

"In love?" Louis' eyes grow wide. Like Harry's question caught him off guard. "Do you mean have I been infatuated, borderline obsessed, and helplessly devoted? In love," He repeats, "seems a little out of my comfort zone."

"Why?" Harry's face is solemn, he caresses Louis' hips.

"A relief such as love is bound to have trouble on its tail." The Donna states. "But how about you?" He shoots back.

"Have I been in love?"

"On second thought, let's dig a little deeper, shall we?" Louis leans close, glossy lips quirked in a smirk. "A survey revealed that men confess their love for someone about 88 days into a relationship. With that, I'll ask you something. Do you love me?"

Harry chokes on a breath, coughing into his fist.

"Or, do you love the circumstances?"

Harry's mind drifts to his old concept of Louis that seems years in the past now. The untouchable deity, the dark and glorious Donna with blood-painted fingertips. It was inaccurate and all too fictitious. He wasn't untouchable, he was just protected and even then, there was a lingering chance of harm.

"I am a selfish man and I wouldn't want you to ever be with anyone else." The Agent pauses, "The amount I feel for you, it's enough to make me feel complete like I've reached my highest peak of destiny. I-I treasure you." He takes his time, slowly uttering each syllable. "All of you. The cold demeanour, the ruthless leader, and the vulnerable man."

The Donna shrinks, pink lips in a small pout. "You are too good for me. Sometimes I think you are a test." In Louis' lap, his hand clenches into a fist and Harry reaches to intertwine their fingers instead. "A test of temptation to see if I am weak and starved for something as simple as the touch of another human. Being alone can do more harm than putting a pistol to my head—the silence in the abyss, it gets so cold." In the blink of an eye, Louis snaps out of it. His sad eyes morph into those playful electric blues, and his posture goes from cowering to confident. "My apologies, I get so deep into my head sometimes."

"That isn't something you should apologize for. You can go deep with me, you can always trust me." Harry proclaims and it's a promise.

Louis' gaze drops to their hands. Harry's large hand cradles his own, the man's rough thumb rubbing his knuckles. "I'm trying."

"I know and you're doing great, Foxglove. I'm proud of you." Harry brings Louis' hand to his lips, kissing all over and he gets the pleasure of seeing the blush rise on Louis' cheeks.

A small dimple appears on Louis' cheek as he smiles. "Recalling that we both avoided the question of being in love, that might make us perfect for each other."

They lean close, noses brushing and lips barely touching. Then, frantic footsteps find them, along with a wide-eyed Niall.

"Louis, you need to come with me right now." The edge in his tone has Louis scrambling from Harry's lap and going after him. Harry stumbles behind them, following Louis' loud heels on the stones then the tiled ballroom floor. There's a crowd of people by the grand french doors, which Harry promptly excuses himself through. They part for him and he nearly stops in his tracks upon reaching the center.

There was an unconscious man on a stretcher, his grey shirt unbuttoned exposing a nasty bullet wound in his lower rib. The red staining the fabric and dripping onto the floorboards beneath.

"Dr. Enzo, I told you to take the night off." Louis is by her side, holding his dress with one hand while he inspects the man.

"Well, I didn't and look what happened." The woman has a heavy Italian accent like most people around Louis did. They were always Italian or French. "A guest found him in the bathroom down in the East wing, and it's a good thing I cancelled my dinner plans and chose to stay in tonight."

"Zayn, get everyone inside the ballroom, please," Louis says and as on Zayn's order, members start leading guests away.

Everyone must also include Harry, because he's being ushered in as well, by a tall woman he's never seen before and he explains who he is, trying to be as polite as possible even though she doesn't let up. That is until Zayn steps in and releases her grip on his arm.

"Jackie, this is Monsieur Harry. You haven't met him since you've been in the hospital."

Harry spots a cast on her arm, barely noticeable with her dark attire. Her brown eyes widen, skin going a pale shade. "My sincerest apologies, Monsieur Harry."

That title keeps slipping his mind. Here in Louis' house with the family, he's not Harry, he's Monsieur Harry. He just has to remember it.

The woman and the rest of the members are successful with hoarding all the guests into the ballroom. The doors shut with a click and it's once again silent. Harry steps over the blood, getting close to observe the man who's temporarily patched up and still unconscious. The blood loss slowed down and his chest rising and falling in short intervals.

Harry's first instinct is to cradle Louis and comfort him, though the man must've seen more bodies than a mortician.

"Who is he?"

"Maksim Sofia, runs his own mob in Russia," Louis answers, crossing his arms. "I haven't seen him all night. How long do you think he was in the bathroom?"

Dr. Enzo slips off her bloody latex gloves, turning to Louis. "Can't be certain for now but I'll take him down to the infirmary. Hopefully, Yan and Ona aren't asleep so they can help me with him. The faster he's taken care of, the less blood on your floors, Ma Reine."

The man is wheeled away down the hall with the doctor following. Several people accompany her, for assistance, Harry guesses. He faintly hears the ding of an elevator, and of course Louis' house has an elevator and an infirmary with personal doctors and nurses. Hospitals have security, cameras and some people who can't be bribed—bribed easily at least.

Harry sits on the couch by some bookshelves as the floor is cleaned. The dull sound of the wet mop on the floorboards. Louis still stands in the same spot.

Moments drag on, along with the muted rhythm of the music resuming in the ballroom. Harry can't expect murderers to mourn a death with sobbing but he didn't think they'd continue the party. He also tries to not bother Louis. He gives him space even though a part of him doubts that is the right move. After all, someone was nearly murdered in his home but after a few minutes, he can't take it anymore.

"Louis," He calls, the Donna slowly turns. His lip is between his teeth and his eyes hold uncertainty. "Come here." He holds open his arms.

The sandy-haired man sits in his lap, stone expression crumbling by the second. He breaks, tucking his face into Harry's neck. "Don't go." His hands grip Harry's suit jacket. "I don't want to..."

Harry's heart breaks at that. The humane side of Louis is one he doesn't see too often but he feels for him all the same. He'd move mountains, he'd cross the most treacherous oceans, travel around the world three times and do it all over again if Louis asked him to.

"You won't be alone." Harry finishes for him, wrapping around Louis tightly. One hand combs through his hair while the other rubs along his back, the silk-chiffon material is soft under his touch. "I'll stay, baby. I'll stay as long as you need."

The walls are a soft cream, the ceiling carved in a similar fashion as the living room downstairs, reminiscent of an Italian villa. Louis had a private wing for himself, the decor and colours a combination of dark and lively Paris and bright and fresh Italy. There were several doors they passed on their way to his bedroom, Louis not speaking a word as he opened the tall French doors to his bedroom.

It was large with hardwood floors and a white fluffy carpet. Thick lilac curtains over the windows, three armchairs surrounded a small glass coffee table. An ensuite was to the right, Harry knows it must have the most luxurious shower and jacuzzi bathtub. A dark wooden four-poster bed was pushed to the longest wall, in the perfect spot for sunrise with matching nightstands with gold detailing on either side. The sheets were plush and white, contrasting against the wooden headboard. Elegantly pinned on each of the posters was the sheer white canopy lined with lace.

Across from the bed was a large television and on either side of it was wide doorways. Two walk-in closets that Harry has yet to see but judging by the size of Louis' room, he knew they had to be like as his apartment. Maybe bigger. Probably bigger.

Harry is looking at the few framed photographs on Louis' nightstand when he hears the sound of heels on hardwood floors. The Donna stands at the doorway to the left, clad a short blue dress and a white fur coat. His hair is a little messy and his eyes are tired.

Louis' Outfit: Vintage Christian Dior, Stand Studio (faux fur coat), Tiffany & Co., Cartier & Aquazzura.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going for a drive."

Harry bends over to slip his boots on again. "A drive where?"

Louis shrugs in disinterest. "I think I need to leave here, just to clear my mind."

Harry frowns, standing and spotting his jacket on the armchair by the double balcony doors. "I'm coming with you,"

Louis shakes his head, tone falling flat. "No, you should get some sleep. The flight is tomorrow night and you're going to work in the morning."

"I'm going with you." Harry repeats firmly, a deep furrow between his brows. He stares at Louis, it could even be considered a glare from the intensity behind it.

"Fine." Louis gives in, "but I'm driving."

The stars shine above and wind wisps through the opened window of the vintage white Beamer. Harry has one hand hanging out the window, watching the moonlight reflect on his rings. He hopes he looks calm because, under his jacket, he's sweating profusely from how fast Louis was speeding.

The Donna has a death grip on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road as they smoothly streak by gated off mansions and trees. Soon, the private neighbourhood is far in the rearview and long winding roads turn to downtown streets. Blazing passed stores and small buildings, the humming engine disrupting the sleeping city.

Harry looks at Louis who was gnawing on his bottom lip. Hesitatingly reaching out for his arm. "Sweetheart."

Silence is the only reply, Louis' jaw clenches as the car speeds up even more.

The Agent tightens his hand, "Honey, please slow down."

The scenery smears into shades of grey and green, melting into the dark of the sky and the wind picks up, the air pressure irritating Harry's ears.

"Louis, slow down right now." Harry demands with a nervous twinge in his voice. The car further accelerates, Louis leaning forward as Harry is pinned back into the passenger seat. They rush through a red light. So far the streets have been empty but that luck will surely run out soon. Harry feels his palms turn clammy, the beating of his heart in his throat as they race down the avenue.

They come up to another light. It turns from green to red and Louis doesn't stop. In the distance, there are a few cars going left to right, right to left and they're getting bigger—closer. Harry holds onto the grab handle.

"God, slow down before you get us killed!"

The car slams to a screeching halt, the smell of burnt rubber from the tires immediately wafting through the open windows. Harry almost knocks his head on the dashboard, and Louis narrowly misses breaking his nose on the steering wheel.

They're both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling. Harry blinks. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Fear still bubbles in Harry's stomach, his mind filled with scenarios where Louis didn't hit the brakes. They could have gotten hurt, splattered all over the road or trapped in a flipped car. He doesn't even want to consider the worst one, their brutal end.

The Donna's lips part and close. Blue eyes shiny as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. Still, he doesn't speak.

Harry undoes his seatbelt then Louis', "I'm going to driving now," He exits the car and walks around the front, opening the door as Louis sniffles quietly, his cheeks are dry but the tears pooling. Harry sighs, squatting down and gently tucking hair behind Louis' ear. "Move over, baby. Please?" He adds when the Donna doesn't move.

With cautious hands, Harry maneuvers the quiet man to the passenger seat. He straps him in and settles in the driver's seat. With a last glance at Louis, Harry begins driving.

The car stops on a dirt road at a small lookout point. Rare light sparkling down below, mirroring the Los Angeles sky. They've been sitting in silence for what feels like hours as if the tension and unspoken questions made time move slower. Finally, Harry gives up.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?"

He was expecting more silence, perhaps a quiet whisper but he's surprised when Louis nearly jumps from his seat.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Louis pleads, taking Harry's hand and bringing his knuckles to his mouth. "Dio, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats the apology over and over again, lips pressed firmly to Harry's skin.

The Agent is a little stunned but doesn't let it show. His heart grows. After shifting around, he pulls Louis to straddle his lap. He holds him tight, kissing every part he can reach; Louis' ear, cheek, jaw, neck, collarbones and shoulder. "My love," he murmurs, "what was on your mind that you couldn't say?"

Louis looks down, shame written on his features. "I'm sorry. Usually, I don't get so deep into my head like that." Much less when he's behind the wheel.

"Tell me. You can always talk to me."

With a final nod of encouragement from Harry's end, Louis takes a breath.

"Normally, I'm aware of everything going on under my roof. Even when I was growing up, my parents told us everything we needed to know, even if we didn't want to. They kept conflict to a minimum inside the house."

Harry nods silently.

"Executions and any violence were committed across the property. My father built a bunker—fifteen feet in the dirt, soundproofed and reinforced concrete walls." Louis closes his eyes, "He would discuss business in his office, then ever so calmly leave with his consigliere who would be hauling a weeping client out the backdoor. I never saw those people after that."

"The child in me chose to only see the... lighter explanation." He says somberly. "Of course, reality bled into that daydream. Tonight, there were supposed to be no weapons beyond the ballroom doors." His eyes narrow. "I was told everything was confiscated."

"Is that why you're upset?"

Louis nods. "And the purity has been violated. There has never been a foul drop of blood in that house—now my family home is tainted with it. Stained, contaminated. No matter how well it's scrubbed, the truth will stand that a man was nearly murdered under its roof."

"Someone dared to commit an... an..." he grits his teeth, frustratedly clenching his fists, "an ungodly act under my mother's roof, within my father's walls."

"When we find who did it and whoever allowed them, let me handle it." Harry doesn't let Louis to protest. "If you handle it, you'll do something you'll regret. When you're emotionally invested in something like this, you run the risk of making rash decisions."

Louis crosses his arms. "Oh, is the angelic Agent Styles back again?"

"I'm just looking out for you and your mind, you wouldn't want that on your conscience. Not to mention what it could do to your reputation." Harry persuades. "You're not alone anymore, sweetheart, let me help you."

"What if that was you?"

Harry considers for a moment, but nothing comes up. "We don't have to think of that."

"What if instead of him, you left the ballroom and you were lying in the infirmary?" Louis swallows thickly. "How would you help me then?"

"I'd interview any witnesses, examine security footage and interrogate suspects from bed in the infirmary." Simple. Harry smiles softly. "Believe me, I'll do whatever I can."

"Are you comfortable? Do you need another blanket? Pillow?"

"It's been a long night, baby." Harry groaned, "You—We should get some rest."

"I needed you." Louis murmurs, settling into the mountain of plush pillows and fluffy blankets. His skin is freshly clean and moisturized, courtesy of Harry's generous nurturing.

"You're thinking of sleep when I'm asking you to fuck me?" Louis nibbled on Harry's ear, eliciting a moan from the man.

"And you have me, Foxglove." Harry almost sings, running a towel through his wet hair. Their eyes meet in the reflection of the vanity. "Just not where you want me, huh?"

"Mhm." Harry threw his head back when Louis' mouth trails down his neck, unbuttoning his blouse. "No. We shouldn't. I'll take care of you, but softly. Okay?"

"You can take one of the guest rooms tonight. I'm not in the mood to share a bed with a man who doesn't want to fuck me."

Harry laughs, going into the bathroom before returning empty-handed. "Baby, just let me love on you." He shuts off the lights and goes to the free side of the bed, crawling under the covers.

He does in fact love on Louis, through tender and sweet caresses, paired with passionate kisses as he takes him apart on his fingers over and over again, but that was as far as it goes before he cleans and wraps them in the plush comforter and hums a tune until Louis falls asleep.

NOTE: well Bonjour honeybuns, it has been a hot minute. Perhaps I'm back? Or I'm just popping in? Or this is all a dream and you'll wake up to see that I still haven't updated and my account is gone? (•̀ᴗ•́)و
Anyway, thoughts? Questions? Concerns?