Close your eyes before you sleep (by Walking_dreams)

1.

Louis has just removed his apron when a lanky, curly-haired angel (in all black—an angel of death?) walks into the coffee shop.

He's tying his apron back on and knocking his coworker out of the way without even thinking about it. He's a bit rough with it, knocking her into the counter. "Oops," he says to her and then, "hi, welcome," to Curly, too loudly and too soon. He's unabashedly eyeing Curly up and Jesus—legs and toned arms and holy shit, wide green eyes and full lips.

"Aren't you on break?" his coworker hisses at him. She's just jealous. Most of their customers are middle aged people on the way to work. Well, and maybe her hip hurts from hitting the counter. He'll apologize later.

He jabs an elbow into her side instead. She's new: she doesn't get to complain about him taking over. Handling a hot customer is all about how long you've worked there.

"Hi," Curly says back, and yeah, he would have a voice that sends chills up Louis' arms. Deep and low, dragged out. Is he checking Louis out? He's either staring at the pastries or at Louis' hips.

"What can I get you?" Louis asks in his warmest voice. He leans on the counter, and when his coworker snorts, he thinks he may be laying it on a bit thick. Oh well. He was never one for subtlety.

Curly looks at the menu for a second or two, and then orders a medium passion fruit tea, iced. A tea drinker then. Louis contemplates what this means for their compatibility as he scrambles to make the drink. Is both of them being tea drinkers enough common ground to ask him out? Probably should get Curly's name first, maybe his number. Louis goes to the uni a mile up the street; maybe Curly's a student, too. Term does start next week.

"Passion fruit tea," Louis calls out. Another customer has approached the register, but he makes no move to take their order. He's supposed to be on break, after all. His eyes are on Curly and that adorable smile of his as he steps forward to claim his drink.

"What's your name? I want to stop calling you Curly in my head," Louis says, feeling brave, as Curly reaches the counter.

Curly smiles, raising his eyebrows. Is he flirting? God, Louis is pathetic. He honestly can't remember what it's like to have a boy flirt with him. He's out of practice. "Harry," Curly—Harry replies, drawn out and low. "Harry Styles." He reaches out, not to grab his drink, but to shake Louis' hand.

Louis is hopelessly charmed, both by the Harry telling him his full name and by the way Harry's hand dwarfs his own. "Pleasure to meet you," he tells him, trying not to blush at the way Harry's positively smirking now.

"Pleasure, Louis," Harry says back. Louis is completely confused for the half second it takes him to remember he is at work and wearing a name tag, and then he is utterly embarrassed that he didn't tell Harry his name.

Harry takes his drink, but doesn't move to leave. Those wide green eyes study him even as he studies them back. Fuck it. He's going all out. "I work here," he blurts out, and starts blushing as Harry laughs and raises an eyebrow. "I mean, I work here Monday through Friday, 6 to 10 every day. AM, I mean. In case you ever want to come back and see me." He hopes he doesn't sound weird or desperate or anything. In addition to never having boys flirt with him, he is also hopelessly out of practice with flirting with boys himself.

His heart nearly pounds out of his chest as he waits for Harry's response. The other boy looks him up and down lazily, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk. "Depends on how good the tea is," Harry tells him, straight-faced. There's another customer behind him, probably waiting for their drink. Louis can feel his coworker staring holes in the back of his head. Just. He doesn't care.

Louis hands Harry his drink, trying to look confident about it. Breathe. He's flirting back. He's interested. At least a little. Harry accepts the drink, wraps his lips around the straw, pulls his mouth off, looking thoughtful.

"Not bad, Louis. Guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow," he says, lips curving into a little smile.

Louis tries to hide how giddy this makes him feel. It's not a phone number, but somehow this is even better. God, he'll have to get up so damn early tomorrow to style his hair. It's not a date. He's just coming back in for another tea. Less pressure. "Tomorrow then, Harry," he says and gives a smirk and a wave. He feels bubbly inside.

Harry grins and turns, leaving with his drink. Louis watches him go, entranced by the way his bum looks in his dark jeans. Tomorrow.

He turns to his coworker, who has this twisted expression on her face. Grudging respect. "Now I'm on break," he tells her primly, and takes off his apron, folding it over. He walks out the back of the coffeehouse, and once he's sure he's alone, he gives a shout and a little fist pump. What an outstanding start to being back to school. Fall term was starting on a decidedly good note.