#If I see ANY disclosure. It's delete and block on sight

[narrysgolden]

So uh, hi, I’m not a writer but I do occasionally (used to) write and some lovely lovely person brought that to my attention today! They mentioned a totally different fic I was writing and forgot about (oops) but reminded me I wrote Part 3 of this ficlet ages ago and never posted it SO here’s that now. Happy Holidays to you all ☺️

Private Nights - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

They were both much more quiet now than they had been the whole flight. Thoughts, and a hangover, swimming around in their heads. Niall was debating in his head whether he was hoping to not have to see Harry again this weekend, or was hoping to run into him again. He was leaning more towards the latter.

With an ounce of liquid courage left, he decided to ask anyways, just out of curiosity. “Hey where are you staying tonight?”

Harry’s face went blank. He closed his eyes, lowered his head into his hands and whispered shit.

“I think….I don’t think I actually have a place to stay.” He said with a chuckle, an attempt to not scream. In years past Harry would just stay at his house, but since he sold his LA home he had been staying with Jeff. Now that Jeff and his wife are out of the country, Harry not thinking to bring his spare key, that’s not an option either. Surely he could call up another friend, pop into a hotel or something. “Forgot I don’t live here anymore and usually I’d just go to Jeff’s but, “second honeymoon.” He shrugged.

Without thinking Niall blurted out “you can stay at mine” before realizing what he said. “I mean got a spare room and all, not too far from tomorrow’s venue.”

“Oh I don’t want to be a bother, can just call up a friend, get a hotel for a change or summat.”

A friend? Did he not consider me a friend? Niall thought. That kind of hurt but he tried not to take it personally. Would probably be awkward to have Harry sleepover anyways. “Uh yeah sure, sure. I’ll be there if you uh, need anything or whatever.” Now Niall was being awkward, tripping over his words and trying to play it cool.

“’course, thanks Niall.” Harry pat him on the shoulder with a soft smile as he peeled himself off the leather seat.

The boys parted ways after the flight, engaging in a much less awkward hug than the first one, and hopping into separate cars. As Niall went back to his LA home, Harry was feeling out of sorts. Even with his countless contacts in the area, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do and had the driver drop him off at the Beachwood Café. Out of all the places in LA, this it felt most like a home away from home. He frequented the dainty café every time he was in town, knew the workers by name and they were always considerate of his privacy.

After greeting the employees behind the counter and ordering his usual, he sat himself in the back corner booth, shoving his Gucci bag underneath the table and pulling out his book. He had brought Norwegian Wood with him, grabbing it last minute from his shelf as a way to keep himself busy on the long flight. Even though he’d already read the book, twice, it was his favorite and impossible to put down. In an attempt to clear his mind, he began reading, for the third time, sipping on his coffee in an attempt to beat the already setting in jetlag.

When he woke up the room was half lit with soft sounds of mugs clattering together. He jolted his head up with a gasp, forgetting where he was and searching his surroundings. Harry had gotten so engrossed in his book he completely lost track of time….and consciousness. Jetlag hit hard and despite his second cup of coffee, he dozed off through chapter nine and slumped back in the booth. A slight bit of panic set in as he frantically looked at his phone, not knowing what time or even day it was at this point.

9:45pm

The café closed in 15 minutes. Harry quickly shuffled out of the booth, grabbing his stuff and swiftly placing his dirty dishes on the counter. “So sorry for hogging up the booth all day, keeping you here” he quietly apologized to the employee, voice coming out hoarse from sleep.

As he darted out the door he really started to realize he has nowhere to stay tonight. It was nearly 10pm on a Sunday and he’d feel bad for bothering anyone for a place to crash at this hour. He quickly remembered Niall’s offer earlier, along with how much of a dick he probably sounded for so quickly turning it down. In his sleepy haze he decided to just fuck it and call Niall up anyways.

Three calls later. No answer. Harry would really start to feel like a needy boyfriend if he called again. And fuck all if he remembers how to get to Niall’s house, let alone his address. Unless…

Harry unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and clicks on Niall’s name. And sure enough, right under the address bar is Niall’s street, number and all. Even after all these years, Harry couldn’t bare to delete Niall’s number or any of his information, and he’s thanking God now that he didn’t.

While in the Uber on the way to Niall’s he starts to become really anxious. This isn’t creepy right, just showing up at his house? I mean it’s Niall and he offered anyways. Right?

The car pulls up to the soft gray home, light coming through a couple windows with Niall’s car parked in the driveway. Thankfully Niall’s gate code was still programmed into his phone as well, so he could at least get past the fence without looking like an awkward stalker who shouldn’t be at this residence in the first place.

With all signs that Niall is home and another few phone calls going unanswered, Harry assumes Niall must have fallen asleep early too. He makes his way up to the front door and knocks, then rings the doorbell, then the buzzer and repeats the three for what feels like 30 minutes before giving up. He doesn’t want to yell or cause a disturbance in his neighborhood at now 11pm. So he sits down on the stoop, back up against the door, jetlag already taking over again.

Niall jolts awake with a weird feeling. All the lights are on, his damn shoes are still on and he’s very disoriented at this point, not intending on passing out so early in the day. He goes to check his phone, 11:30pm, and notices the 6 missed called from Harry. Immediate panic shoots through his body. Is something wrong? Did he need me? Oh god I wonder where he is. Am I overreacting?

Despite his hesitation, he decides to just call Harry back. No answer. So he calls again. After the fourth ring with no answer is when Niall really starts to panic. Without thinking he jumps up, grabs his keys from the counter and heads for the door. He flings the front door open so fast he barely has time to process the body thumping at his feet.

Harry is shocked out of his slumber as he flies back and his head smacks down on Niall’s feet.

“Jesus, fuck! Harry what the fuck!?”

Harry rolls over with a loud groan of pain and confusion. “Oh my god” he grunts.

“Harry WHAT the hell” Niall yells.

As Harry continues to writhe around on the stoop, Niall’s demeanor changed. “Har-Harry are you okay? C’mere”. He reached down to gently place his hand under Harry’s head and help him sit up, worried that he smacked his head too hard. Harry finally squints his eyes open to look up at Niall. He doesn’t know if it’s the jet lag delirium or the fact that he banged his head half on Niall’s foot and half on concrete, but he smiles up at the Irishman with a dopey grin and dimple on full display. “Hi.”

Niall is confused but can’t help smiling back. After a moment of innocent affection, Niall’s concern creeps back in. “Are you okay? Really? Need some ice?” Harry’s smile turns into a frown as he remembers his throbbing head and nods, taking Niall’s hands to help him up. In full disclosure, Harry is a total baby when it comes to being sick or hurt. He will take all the love and care that anyone is willing to give him and he will milk that shit like it’s his job. Niall knows, Niall kind of loves it, and Niall acts just like the caretaker Harry wants. “C’mon baker boy” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist to lead him inside.

The name gets Harry to chuckle, lightening the mood. “Baker boy? Really? It’s been nearly 10 years Niall.”

“And yet you still talk about bread, Harold.”

For those few moments it’s like Niall and Harry we’re back in 2015. It felt different than the plane ride earlier which was fueled by alcohol. This time, the comfort was fueled by vulnerability. Something they shared closely between each other, years ago.

Harry laid down on the couch, sinking into the big plushie cushions and trying really hard to block out the memory of what happened on this couch the night Niall moved in. The heated kissing, the touching, the clothes thrown about the kitchen. It was also the one and only time that Harry had stepped foot in this house, other than at this moment. Niall brought over a bag of ice, handing it to Harry along with a pillow to prop his head up. As his mind began to clear up, he decided to take a seat at the other end of the couch. He could feel emotions resurfacing that he wasn’t ready for and did not think was appropriate for the time.

Harry thanked Niall and laid back on the ice, wiggling uncomfortably as the cubes poked the back of his head, but he was grateful for the gesture. Neither of them said another word, sleep taking over both of them yet again after Niall had put the golf channel on the tv for some background noise. As Niall dozed off, he could hear Harry’s labored breathing. Through hooded eyes he took in the sight of Harry’s chocolate curls sticking to the melting ice bag. His lips slightly parted, looking plush but dry, in need of some chapstick. The way his skin was so clear and glowed under the light of the tv. He was just....so....pretty. And with that thought, Niall fell into a deep sleep as well.

Niall awoke to a heavy weight on his stomach and a tickle of hair on his arms. He squinted one eye open in the dim lighting of the room and moved just enough to get Harry’s attention. The lanky boy on top of him groaned a small “mm cold” before readjusting his head to now be on Niall’s crotch and curl his legs up next to him.

“D’you wanna go up to bed?” Niall mumbled. Harry nodded, continuing his “baby” act.

The two of them groaned as they got up, sore from the awkward couch positions and groggy from on and off sleep all day. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder as they trudged up the stairs, coming to the guest bedroom on the right. Niall stopped ahead of Harry. “Sheets are clean, bathrooms on the le—“

“Can I...” Harry began to interrupt. “My uh, my head still hurts.” It didn’t. But Harry didn’t have another excuse to sleep with Niall and he knew Niall wouldn’t deny him the comfort he really needed right now.

“Uh yeah, sure, my rooms down thi—“

“Mhmm I remember” Harry interrupted again with a smug tone. Niall just rolled his eyes and continued on down the echoey hall. With each step Niall began to strip off another article of clothing, desperate to be comfortable in his own bed again and not caring that Harry was right behind him,

“Eager are we?” Harry remarked, watching closely each piece of fabric fall to the floor.

“Oh shut up.” Niall jabbed back, sprinting the last few steps and catapulting himself onto the bed. His head fell back, getting engulfed in the mountain of pillows stacked at the headboard.

“Jesus, Niall. Preparing for a pillow fight or something?”

Niall let out a cackle, pick up the pillow closest to him and chucked it in Harry’s direction. ”Maybe.”

Harry caught the pillow with impressive accuracy and threw it straight back, jumping on the end of the bed and launching Niall’s legs in the air. The two boys burst into a fit of laughter, lazily tossing pillows at each other in the process.

The laughter died down and their eyes began to droop again, but neither of them wanted to sleep another minute.

#narry fic #Niall horan #harry styles #private nights fic #private nights #part 3 #narry #fanfic