The Princess and The Outlaw

Bright Enough

Eight Months Ago.

Saying no to Harry – the act of denying the man anything – is not only abominable but laughable in their eyes now. Louis tried once when the man asked him to attend the garish first day of a carnival because his boy deserved the novelty enjoyment of a night under the stars but after four attempts, he found himself being hauled into the parking lot ten seconds after his final class. Harry did not take no for an answer and with Louis he wasted no time in even allowing the boy an option.

"I know I used to say no to get on your nerves but this time I'm serious, Harry." Louis pleads futilely, his arm caught in his companion's grip. Pouring his words out to Harry's broad shoulders was hardly effective.

Harry was all but dragging him in the direction of his car now that Louis' school day is over. He had splendid plans for him and his boy on this fine Friday. "What is there to worry about, princess?"

"Crowds? Loud people? People, in general." Louis had an infinite many other complaints to make but Harry was already holding the door open for him. He stepped back with his hands on his hips. "I don't want to go to a club."

"I'd like you to accompany me, princess." Harry did his painstakingly attractive motion of pinching his bottom lip and smirking through it. "What's it going to take to get you there?"

Louis rolled his eyes. "Nothing you can afford, Styles."

Harry's laughter is as phenomenal as his many less timid quirks, and he makes a grab for Louis that leaves the boy trying not to shriek in his poor escape. Louis' waist is captured abruptly and harshly from behind, his weight swung off the ground so Harry can redirect him to the car. Fighting is useless and getting Louis nowhere as he squirms against Harry's hold; it's been happening much too often.

"You deny me this, princess." Harry buries his face in Louis' neck and nuzzles the soft skin so it tickles his victim. "Or you try most ardently, at least. We are going out tonight and I'm going to keep you safe from the nasty loud people if they ever come near you."

"Don't make fun of me, Styles. It isn't classy." Louis flicks Harry's ear and gets himself lowered to the ground once more. "I'll come if you never ask me again."

"Unlikely, princess. Let's get moving."

They drive to Louis' house first so he can pick a sufficient outfit that Harry approves of from his closet. Instead of the plain white T-shirt, Harry gives him a faded band T-shirt that covers most of him except for the abundance of tears in its fabric. Louis picked at it continuously until Harry pulled a denim jacket on for him and took the boy's hand, towing him out the door. The door is locked behind them and Louis waits, clutching Harry's sleeve to get in the back-seat while groups of teenagers happen by them already drunk.

He remained that way, his fingers fisted into the material of Harry's coat, for the entire night without expecting to. The club is nauseating with its dim lighting and deafening sound system. Louis doesn't drink anything even when Harry assures him it's safe; he goes to sit next to the man when a booth opens up but Harry plants him rather on his lap. It would have driven him to shock but Louis has been on his lap than a chair since he met Harry.

The people Harry socialises with are nice enough but none do more than make Louis slightly uncomfortable. He spends most of the night observing them in their natural habitat whilst subtly blocking out the noise with his clammy palms. Harry drinks half his weight in alcohol but nothing about him comes to show him – not a slur in his voice or sway in his step. He balances Louis on his thigh and never gives up the arm wound firmly around the boy's waist. At odd points in the night he stopped to give Louis his sole focus, stealing kisses when his boy is looking elsewhere or whispering something nonsensical into his ear.