Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Stupid fucking knotheads with their stupid fucking knots, and their stupid fucking attitudes,” Louis grumbles. He’s already climbing into the backseat by the time Harry can whip around from his driver’s side door and welcome him. He’s obviously perturbed-- his clothes once perfectly pressed and placed with obvious delicate attention to detail now hangs carelessly on his form, his hair is tufting in different directions, and if not given the pretext that Harry was so unfortunately privy to, one could think that he had woken up late and was in a rush to a regular 9-5 office job. 

But see, Harry did have context, and he did have the foreknowledge to know exactly where he was and what the little omega in the backseat was coming from. 

Harry hears the faint ringing off Louis’ phone when he finally makes it to the other side of the black BMW to shut the door. With precise neutrality he says, “Good evening, Mr. Tomlinson.” 

He’s not met with a response, which is unusual. Mr. Tomlinson, amongst others of comparable fame, is refreshingly polite and caring. Harry’s professional ‘hello’s’ and ‘good mornings’ were met with familiar greetings and well wishes. Mr. Tomlinson went so far as to make sure that Harry was invited to professional parties as guests, and that he and all his other employees were given healthy bonuses and company gifts around the holidays. Harry could say with complete transparency that Louis Tomlinson was the best boss he ever had or will have, and there would never be an ounce of hesitancy in his voice.

Though they typically drove in comfortable silence as Louis was quite the busy man, Harry had grown fond of the generosity from his boss. So, the alpha had found it understandable and reasonable that he was concerned by the icy bite of his boss’ cold shoulder. 

Were he Savannah, Louis’ PA, he would have pressed on and asked more. Why are you upset? Did something go wrong with your business meeting? Savannah would ask. Just the thought of Harry repeating those words seems to shatter the firm professional atmosphere that he had worked so meticulously to establish these past three years.  

“C’mon pick up, pick up,” Louis’ voice sounds from the back seat. Harry can see him from the rearview mirror-- He’s wilted over with a hand on his stomach and his phone clasped so tightly on his phone that Harry wonders for a fleeting second if he’s trying to break it. 

“Mr. Tomlinson? Am I taking you to your house?” Harry asks. He’s surprisingly able to control his voice despite his growing concern for his employer. Besides the visual signs of distress, Louis is starting to smell like anger and something… else. Vulnerability, perhaps? Harry’s not sure, but it’s setting his alpha on edge. 

He can feel the growing tension in his shoulders creep down his spine in reaction to the pure pheromones that are seeping into the car’s enclosed area. With a quick hand, Harry presses the recirculate button. Hopefully, it will help. 

He hears a faint sigh of defeat when Louis’ phone clicks to voicemail. The visual anger in the omega seems to have dissipated into acceptance for a brief second before he’s glaring back up at his driver. 

“I just don’t fucking get it!” The omega nearly shouts, “Alpha’s are just so-- ugh! Never have I wished I was a beta more!” 

Harry’s sure that Louis couldn’t be talking to him because-- a) They’ve never had such a … passionate conversation. Hell, they’ve never gone past pleasantries let alone alpha’s being so-- as Louis so eloquently puts it--  ‘ugh.’  and b) Harry was an alpha, and Louis knew that. 

But the small wrinkles that were forming between the omega’s brows and the maintained eye contact through the rearview mirror left no question as to who the comment was geared to. Harry’s brow moves to mirror the omegas in a quiet plea, a push for more information other than “alphas suck.” 

“Sir ?--” Harry’s asks in search of clarification 

“And-- And to think I was going to invite him to the launch party?” Louis screeches, “He’s dead to me. And he’s going to be dead to this whole industry if I have anything to say about it.” 

The recirculate button that Harry had so eagerly pressed just minutes before is proving useless as every seething word that pours itself from the delicate pink flush of Louis’ lips steeps itself in his angry pheromones. In the back of his mind, he can hear the wrestling of his inner Alpha begging him to comfort the smaller man in the back seat of his car. 

Professionalism. He has to keep reminding himself. 

Harry begins to pull out of Louis’ associate’s driveway hoping that the movement was distraction enough from the hairs that were slowly starting to rise on the back of his neck. At the moment, Harry has no explanation for the agonizing response that his body is having to his distressed boss. Louis’ an omega in distress, and while it’s normal for Harry to feel compassion and concern, the overwhelming need to console Louis was eating away at the carefully curated boundaries that Harry has built.

Louis had gone silent for a moment, and Harry could feel the air shift from rage and aggression to more of an acute pain and sadness. He looks back through the rearview mirror to see his boss with his back to the door and his feet resting on the cinnamon leather of the back seat. His eyes are closed and for a moment, and Harry wonders if he’s asleep-- or at least trying to be, but when he hears a quiet sniffle, he knows it’s much more than that. 

“Sir?” Harry asks again. It’s quiet and reproachful, filled with the necessary caution to ensure safety in the face of such a vulnerable moment. 

Harry will never get used to seeing his boss like this-- the dichotomous reality to the media’s built up representation of Louis Tomlinson, world famous designer. His brand and his name are an enigma-- the epitome of luxury fashion although, in comparison to larger names like Versace or even Gucci, relatively new. Louis entered the public eye in an unprecedented spout of fiery ambition, and the media has painted him as such since. 

The small omega was unpinnable. His vision was an evolving kaleidoscope of gender-questioning yet confirming styles that baffled his peers and begot discourse that has since changed the very fabric of his industry. In addition to creating a name for himself, it was never enough-- Louis still had found himself dodging the traditionalist questions about alphas, babies, and settling down even through the very crux of his career. 

Louis’ eyes open to meet Harry’s through the narrow mirror. Their usual crystal blue is rimmed with the angry red of his veins. He doesn’t let Harry speak again before he’s parting his lips, “When I went over, it was under the pretext of sex,” Louis admits jadedly, “I know what I was there for. All we did was start talking about my fall line and he started to try and direct me and--” 

Harry’s heard enough from Savannah to figure out Louis’ response from there. Louis never took kindly to criticism, especially not to alphas who almost always looked for Louis to feminize and gender his designs. 

“And, of course we started arguing. And like-- how was I supposed to do it when he had so openly hated everything that I’ve created myself on. And I left after a titillating debate on why he thought that even though I was so completely turned off, I still should put out.” Louis doesn’t speak more after that, but Harry can see the exchange play behind his eyes. His knuckles were gripped tightly on the wheel of the tinted BMW, and he was positive that anybody in a 10 mile radius could smell how on edge he was. 

Louis doesn’t comment and Harry assumes he’s too emotional, wrapped up in his own despair,  to comment on Harry’s scent. Instead he continues, “So he was aggressive about it and I… I just left,” Louis finishes. 

The silence that follows is far from comfortable and Harry can sense that Louis is waiting for some type of response from Harry-- at least an acknowledgement or validation of the atrocity that the omega had experienced, but Harry wasn’t sure he could express the inexplicable anger that had taken a seemingly permanent seat atop his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tomlinson,” He starts. A simple, cliche “We’re not all like that-- I’m not like that,” doesn’t seem sufficient or appropriate in this moment, so instead Harry goes with, “I’m glad you’re safe now. I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

He’s looking at Louis through the mirror now, but Louis’ eyes are closed in a moment of self-manufactured serenity, as if the acknowledgment that he did the right thing, that he was free from culpability, gave him the permission to rest even for just a moment. 

It makes Harry think, to wonder how often that Louis has gone through this, and for a minute he feels himself take on the weight that was once on his boss’ shoulder. Logically, he knew Louis faced a lot of criticism on the outside, but to not even be free in intimate moments seemed daunting to even the alpha. For the first time, Harry felt himself yearning to comfort the omega with more than just the bare-boned apology that their current cordial relationship permitted. 

～♕～

To Harry, it feels like after their car ride that day, his relationship with his boss has changed so rapidly that he finds himself with emotional whiplash. It’s not that he’s crossing boundaries, per se, but it’s such a night and day difference between them that Harry finds himself accepting offers that he had otherwise denied throughout his previous years of employment. 

Louis was never shy to invite both Savannah and Harry into his home, to bring them to dinner parties, and to make sure that they were overall taken care of. Up until recently, Harry has politely declined the invitations in the name of maintaining his calm and collected professionalism, but now he found himself more often than not sitting in his bosses' kitchen with Savannah and Louis over ordered food when given the opportunity. 

He isn’t sure if he began accepting these invitations to prove to Louis that there were Alphas he could be friendly with, that did not overlook his achievements or belittle his ideas, or if he did it to prove that he was somebody that Louis could be friendly with, that he wouldn’t overlook his achievements or belittle his ideas. And although the difference is significant, Harry can’t bring himself to care. All he knows is that he’s so infinitely elated that he did. 

Harry knew that the omega didn’t have many friends. Most of their car rides were alone or with Savannah, and Harry had always just assumed that Louis kept a relatively small circle, but now more than ever Harry realizes that Louis simply did not have people over because there was nobody to invite. And there was a small part of him, a part that Harry is not even fully conscious of, that aches when he realizes this. Aches when he realizes that every rejection, every declination of Louis’ invitations into his home after a shift, was Harry withholding another degree of companionship from the omega. 

“--And Donatella told me that Alessandro doesn’t even have a theme yet for this season’s show-- could you imagine?” Louis asks. 

Harry’s feeling particularly lost today, as he’s only ever heard these names in passing. He knows they’re other designers, but the companies, their respective launch dates for upcoming shows, and the actual substance of their work was a foreign language to him. He takes a cue from Savannah when she snorts into her plate, and gives a silent but participatory chuckle along. 

“I can see it-- they’ve said he’s losing his touch. I’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re looking for an ‘apprentice’ for him to undertake. I don’t know about you but that spells out replacement for me,” she answers. Her shoulders tip back, making the silvery hairs that rest just below her shoulder slide backwards and shake along with her laughter. “What about you Harry? Maybe you should apply for the position,” she teases.

“Oi! You better not be trying to get rid of my best driver-- I can’t go looking for a replacement, I’m too busy!” Louis says with a playful slap to Savannah’s shoulder. It's jestful, like the rest of their conversation, but there is a possessive bite to his words-- my best driver-- the words bounce through Harry’s ears until he can just hear the words my and mine. It falls deaf on Savannah’s beta senses, but for a minute Harry thinks he can sense the same words zooming through Louis’ thoughts. 

My, mine. 

My alpha. 

And woah, Harry’s taking it too far. At least, he thinks he’s taking it too far, but when he looks back up from his plate, Louis’ eyes are heavy on his, and for a fleeting second, Harry can pretend he heard Louis say it. 

Louis prevents any awkward silence by clearing his throat and standing from his seat, “Well,” he starts, “I guess it just leaves more room for us to shine.” 

Savannah looks between the two of them with a satisfied smile and a knowing glint in her eyes, “How… unfortunate.” 

And if Harry were more aware, maybe he would have realized she is no longer speaking of Alessandro. 

～♕～

 “No, tell Cindy to take that God awful hat off of my design. No, I don’t care. Amelia, Amelia listen to me do you want me to vomit on the model when I’m dressing them? Do you want me to stop breathing? Tell me right now. Tell me you want me to die because that’s what you’re telling me when you just sent me that picture. That is disgraceful. I would not show that to my elderly grandparents because I think they would turn to dust just looking at it. I don’t even ever want to hear the word cloche whispered next to a picture of that design. Do you hear me? Or you will be arranging my funeral with your next paycheck,” Louis seeths. 

Harry can see him out of the corner of his eye waving his hands as he spews his rapid aggression. It’s not new for the alpha to see Louis like this, to see him so animated and combative over the phone. Most of his office staff, faceless people that Louis often left behind when he was around others like Harry; his family; or Savannah, knew not to bother him when he was not in the office space-- his time at home was kept much like the rest of his non-professional life, private. 

Though Louis has often expressed that he works on his designs at home, and often creates his best work in the living room with a glass of wine in one hand and a sketchbook and pen in the other, he never brings noise home with him. That is,with the alpha as the sole exception, most rarely sees Louis audibly deal with the command of his brand while he’s outside of the office space. 

When he’s away, Savannah takes control and merely passes things through Louis for quick final judgements. It’s the most clean work/life balance that Harry has witnessed, and it still boggles his mind to this day. 

“Harry you need to turn back around please, I need to go back to the office,” Louis says after he hangs up. They’re nearly halfway to the omega’s home already, but there seems no room for question in the tone of the omega’s voice. 

“Okay, Louis. Should I wait outside or will you call when you’re ready to be picked up?” Harry asks, he’s already making a quick turn on the next road, re-navigating to circle back to his office. 

“Just go home, Harry. I’ll probably be late. I’ll find a way home one way or another.” His voice is tired with just the pinch of frustration that makes Harry’s chest sink and press against his heart. He knew Louis was having a rough couple of days, that more than ever he was falling asleep in the back of the car from pure exhaustion, but to see the near defeat splayed over the omega’s features pulled at an empathy Harry wasn’t fully aware of just yet. 

Perhaps this is why it took so much of him when he watched Louis walk up white marble steps of his office building, and maybe that’s why every fibre of his alpha forced him to stay still in the very spot he left Louis in. No, he couldn’t leave him like that-- An omega late in the middle of the night leaving the office in even one of what realtors would call a ‘good’  neighborhood just didn’t fall so nicely on his alpha’s conscience. 

So, that’s how he ends up nearly three hours later with the car shut off, sitting inside waiting for his boss. It’s stupid, Harry doesn’t even know when Louis is going to leave, and he really deserves to be sitting on his sofa with his feet perched up and a beer in one hand, but the moment Harry hears his name being called from twenty feet away by the very omega he couldn’t stand to leave, he can’t bring himself to care. 

“What in God’s name are you doing here?! Are you crazy?” It’s not the most pleasant of greetings, but Louis is barrelling into the backseat of his car, so he’s sure that he isn’t doing the wrong thing. 

“I didn’t have anything better to do.” A lie. A dirty, nasty little lie. Flashes of his sofa and the six pack in his refrigerator flash into Harry’s thoughts the second that he allows the bittersweet fib to tumble from his pursed lips. 

“Oh, you loser! You’re the best! Here, as a thanks I’ll pick up take out,” Louis jests. 

And when Harry makes the drive to Louis’ favorite spot to eat, without the omega having to say another word, he’s overcome with the realization that maybe there’s just a little bit more to his relationship with Louis Tomlinson than his so called professionalism. 

Just a little bit. 

But when Louis seems like he’s playing along, Harry wonders if it’s all as one sided as he may initially believe. Somehow he always ends up back at square one. 

～♕～

Harry thought that his recent revelations would have earth shattering consequences. It made sense, at least to him, that after three years a sudden change in his emotional affliction for his boss, would blur once clear set lines and boundaries. It terrified him, at first-- the thought of trying to navigate a job that had become second nature was daunting.  

The reality is much, much different and for Harry, it’s worse. In his mind’s eye, the shift would be loud. A cacophonous explosion of animalistic desire and uncontrollable passion that drove Harry to spill every single emotion that he wants to keep locked deep inside.

 Instead, what Harry got was much, much worse. It was agonizing subtlety-- heightened senses, and longing stares that seemed all but unreciprocated from the omega. It was a type of pining that Harry had never allowed himself to experience before. Now, all Harry can smell is Louis Louis Louis. When he enters the car, Harry is engulfed in the rich caramel and tangy apple of the omega’s scent. Though always aware, Harry can now smell it everywhere; it’s like it lingers on everything the alpha owns. 

When he goes home, there’s no relief. Interwoven into the stitching of Harry’s clothes is the persisting delectable scent. It’s all he can think about, and it takes three showers to wash out of his hair. Never has he wanted to be a beta, with their weak senses of smell, so badly. 

Harry’s godforsaken misery doesn’t end with just Louis’ scent. It’s like every hair stands on end when he’s around the omega now. Today, as Louis was climbing out of the car he had tripped on a small rock on the street, and without hesitation Harry was able to catch the smaller man in his arms and for all but a second, Harry felt what it would feel like if he were to have the omega in his arms, and it was tantalizing.  

And now, when he’s driving, he has to mentally remind himself to look at the road to the point that he is tearing his eyes away from his boss in the back seat. It’s disgustingly dangerous, but his only motivation is convincing himself that he had to drive safely to protect Louis. 

He’s hopeless, and even that’s being generous. 

So, as Harry sits in his room under the security of his duvet while swimming deep with his thoughts, he calls the one person that he knows will understand him.

The phone only rings once in it’s position cradled against Harry’s shoulder before a bright and chirpy voice responds, “If it isn’t my favorite brother!” 

“Your only brother,” Harry answers. His voice can’t seem to match his sister’s cheer even though he tries, but he allows himself to get lost momentarily in the distraction of their call. 

“To what do I owe this extremely late night phone call?” 

Harry should probably, no definitely, ease into such a … delicate phone call, but against his better judgement he says, “IthinkIhavefeelingsformyboss.” 

The line goes dead for a beat and for a second Harry fears that his sister had hung up the phone. He’s waiting perfectly impatiently for his sister to provide some much, much needed wisdom, but all he gets in reply is a sharp intake of breath and an, “Oh, Harry.” 

It’s a pity response, Harry’s not an idiot-- he knows his sister can fully realize the god-sized pile of shit that he’s allowed himself to step right into, and she’s not about to coddle him for it with fantasies of them ending up together. Just as fast as Harry built a world with Louis in his mind, his sister is tearing it down just as fast with only two words. 

“It’s stupid,” Harry retracts, “Just completely forget I made this call. You know what? I’m belligerent. I am completely drunk right now, out at a pub, ten drinks in--” 

“Oh my God, Harry shut up and let me think,” Gemma hisses over the line. It’s harsh, and oddly Harry is thankful for it. Maybe he needs a reality check. “Okay, look. Do you like like him, or is it just… I don’t know, is it just like… you think he’s cute and you want to fuck?”

It’s not something that Harry has really thought about. A few days ago, the depth of Harry’s emotions seemed as shallow as a puddle in London at half past, but now he was beginning to question… well, everything. 

“I, uh.. Well--” Harry’s stuttering again, and it’s something that he has not dealt with in years, but Gemma’s question has his brain working faster than he can process language and construct sentences. 

“Listen, H, darling, it seems like you have to answer these questions for yourself before you can even think about pursuing this or not. Look, I have off these next three days, why don’t I come down and we can go out, take your mind off of things,” Gemma suggests. And although he knew it was in her omega nature to be so nurturing, Harry was calming at his sister’s voice. 

“I don’t know Gems, I don’t really have many days off…” Harry started. 

“What? You’re in love with a man that doesn’t give you a day off?” She teases. 

At the word love Harry’s stomach lurches back into the twists it was in just a few minutes earlier, and his sister must have caught on to this by the way his side of the line fell deadly silent. 

“H, calm down I was only joking. Even if you’re working we can find some time to just hang out. Please? I’m invoking my big sister card,” Gemma teases. 

It’s not that Harry can’t ask for a couple of days off for an unexpected visit. Louis was more than generous with his staff and their personal days, and Harry has near perfect attendance (save for that one week a year ago when he caught the nastiest bout of the flu) there was no reason Louis would say no.  

“How could I say no?” He responds. 

“How could your omega say no?” Gemma teases. And it’s a joke,  and deep down Harry knows that it’s a lighthearted joke on his sister’s part, but just the very association of Louis and the words “your omega” pull on a part of Harry’s core that he hadn’t known existed. 

And for once, the calm and composed alpha in Harry had to battle a possessive, affirming growl. 

～♕～

“No, absolutely not,” Louis answers. Harry can hear an obnoxious shuffling on the other end of the line, “Just not today, Harry. Tomorrow and the day after fine, no problem, but I need you for today. I have an emergency flight to Paris in like three hours so I need you to drive me there. Savannah’s coming with us for the ride and then you have to drop her back off at the warehouse where she has to pull fabrics for me, and then bring them back to the office so that we can get started on a couple of the show pieces that I only have mock-ups for right now.” 

Harry’s stunned on the other line. Though he knew his request is a minor inconvenience, to be straight-out denied was a type of rejection that he wasn’t sure how to process. Without another moment to think Harry says, “Yes, Mr. Tomlinson.” 

It comes out with a harsher bite than he anticipates, and he’s sure that the omega on the other line can feel it too because he hears a quiet, “goodbye, be here ASAP” before the click of the other line. 

Harry hadn’t used formalities like “Mr. Tomlinson” since the beginning of their ever growing friendship-- Louis himself had asked him not to--  and it had felt foreign on his tongue after so long. It was as that one word re-erected stone walls that had taken nearly three years to crumble. It was an impulse, a stupid one and Harry wasn’t even sure where it had come from. 

It was perfectly reasonable for Louis to expect his own personal driver to do his job, right? So why did Harry feel so upset that Louis so carelessly told him no? He couldn’t place it, and he didn’t think he was in the right mental space to even try and conceive an answer, so he chooses to pull himself into his clothes and head out to the car. 

～♕～

When he gets to the house, Harry’s fully expecting Louis’ usual optimistic demeanor. It seems likely to Harry, the more he thinks about it, that the omega was just pressed for time. And that the cold shoulder he received on the other end of the phone line was a direct product of Louis’ unscheduled interruption into his routine. 

However, the reality that Harry receives is worlds different than he could have predicted. Savannah’s standing outside with a large black umbrella to protect the small designer from the angry pellets of rain that were slamming onto the cement walkway of his home with her arm wrapped tightly around a hunched figure. It takes Harry a minute to realize that hidden under a large black trench coat is actually Louis, who is holding on tightly to Savannah’s waist. 

Though he doesn’t have much time for questions as the pair are rushing hurriedly to the car, Harry can feel everything. He’s hyper aware of the hair on his arms that feel like they’re starting to tremble. And for a second, it feels like he’s scanning everywhere for a potential threat he knows, logically, does not exist. They’re rushing down the pavement to the car with Louis’ suitcases in hand, and Harry makes the grave mistake of trying to meet them halfway because the minute he surges forward, he’s slammed with the truth of the situation. 

It overtakes him in that second-- his feet stutter and nearly tumble over themselves, and his neck jerks down to look for the familiar powder blue of his boss’s eyes. He’s too well hidden, and it aggravates his alpha. Why won’t he look at him? Why is he hiding? 

Focus. 

Focus. 

He’s trying to ground himself, but the very cause of his delusion-- the strong wafting of delectable caramel and crisp apple that’s shaded by a pesky coat. Harry wants to rip it off-- he wants to lean down to the omega’s height and look him over, just for himself. 

It’s brutish, but like a neanderthal Harry feels carried by his instinct. Louis is in heat, or dangerously close to it, and it’s all the alpha can think about.

“Harry,” Savannah hisses. Her eyes are dark and warning, but she doesn’t say another word. Harry can only imagine what he looks like now, threatening and hungry-- there are suitcases being shoved into his hands by the angry beta; it snaps him out of it for just long enough to regain control over himself.

“His plane is already fueled and ready to go, we just have to get there, he’s--” 

“ Savannah, I, ” Harry interrupts, he doesn’t know where he’s going to go with this conversation. He has so many questions, and before he can stop himself, he thinks that he can’t possibly drive Louis right now. Not only was it hard for Harry, it was dangerous for Louis to be around any alpha. 

“Harry, don’t even start with me. You think I haven’t tried to talk him out of it?” She whispers, quiet enough to hide it from the omega who was just steps away. 

And with that, what else can he say ? 

Harry’s ride to the airport belongs in the seventh ring of hell. The violent downpour prevents him from opening up his window to vent out the pungent smell of Louis onslaught heat and the recirculate on his car is doing virtually nothing to help. When he looks in the rearview mirror, he’s watching as Louis is clinging desperately onto Savannah’s arm for any form of physical touch. 

At this point, as far as Harry can tell, he’s reaching a pivotal point in his pre-heat. He’s looking for touch and affirmation and although she’s trying her best, Savannah is just a beta. She cannot calm Louis or validate and care for him the way an alpha can. This is what grudges Harry in the most volatile way-- he knows what Louis needs right now, his alpha knows what Louis’ omega needs-- yet, he cannot do a single thing about it. 

When they get out of the car Louis is still holding on tight to Savannah as he’s walked to his private plane; Harry loads his suitcases onto the attendant’s carts to be brought up never once taking his eyes off of the little omega.

With a strangling hug to Savannah and a reproachful wave to Harry, Louis was ushered up the steps and into the plane. In a way that Harry does not want to admit, he feels an anger wash over him on his walk back to the car with Savannah. Though he knows his anger could never be directed at Louis-- for they are not together and Harry has no liberty to say what the omega should, could, or would do-- he is angry at something. The situation, perhaps, but all he knows is that he, or at least his alpha, is angry. 

He is angry that Louis would endanger himself like this for the sake of his brand, he’s angry that he had to watch Louis stand there so helplessly, he’s angry that he couldn’t help-- 

And ouch. Harry isn’t expecting the last point, but when it dawns on him, it makes sense. He is angry that he couldn’t help Louis, and not just in the ‘I’m going to satisfy your heat’ way, but he is angry that he couldn't protect Louis from whatever dangers he may fall into. 

When they get into the car, Savannah slides into the back seat with a grave look covering her usual smile, “I hope he’s okay,” She finally whispers as they pull off. 

Harry’s lips are pressed in a fine line, like they could stop the waterfall of emotions that begged to drip from the cracked skin. Of course he wishes the same, but could he say anything without revealing how truly devastating it was to watch the omega leave? 

To fill the silence, Savannah tries to change the subject, “When I’m at the warehouse, do you mind pulling around the back because I actually have a lot of fabrics to pull. I have to email a picture of them to the office, I have to finalize Louis’ hotel details--” 

Harry wishes he was listening to the rest, maybe it would have distracted him from the damning realization that now occupied every thought he was able to produce. It doesn’t make sense, none of it does, when he’s looking at Savannah in the back seat. Savannah, Louis’ assistant. Savannah is present for nearly every actual business meeting that Louis attends.  Shouldn’t she be on the very plane that Harry just watched Louis walk up to? 

He surprises himself with how calm he’s able to ask the next question. “Savannah,” He starts seriously. 

The crease in her forehead is deep as she looks up to Harry, like the sudden shift in conversational tone has already given away the next words out of the alpha’s mouth. “Why are you here?” 

The beta looks away as if there is something more interesting buried deep in the hem of her sweater that she so deeply inspects. 

“Savannah,” Harry says. His voice is threateningly serious. 

“Because I have business to take care of here, Louis has business to take care of there.” 

Without context, Savannah’s words mean nothing. They’re riddles with know discernable clues to the outside ear. But, the problem was Harry unfortunately did have context. He did have clues-- three years of clues. No, this wasn’t a business meeting. It was a business meeting. 

Harry’s not sure how he feels. The feeling is fleeting and unidentifiable, but at the same time it’s constant. It’s loud and it demands to be felt and acknowledged. When he places the emotion, when he’s finally able to name it, it leaves him with more questions than he previously had thought possible. The truth is, it’s the taste of betrayal, and like a red hot branding iron in Harry’s mouth. Without just cause, he’s filled with the taste of copper and vilified anger. 

Louis is in heat, and Harry has just dropped him off to fly to another alpha. 

“That’s incredibly dangerous.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“ Savannah. ” His voice is heavy, and it settles deep in the car. Savannah may just be a beta, but even she can sense the command in Harry’s tone. 

“Listen Harry, he’s his own person. I can’t tell him what to do, neither can you. Especially not you.” She sounds tired, like she’s said this already countless times before. He knows he cannot dismiss what Savannah says as anything but the truth. Louis is his own person, and he can make his own decisions. As his worker, who was Harry to tell him what to do ? 

Was it possible that Harry only feels so overtaken by this crude emotional trip because he has spent the last few days convincing himself of his feelings for his boss? It seems too maladaptive, even for him. But the crushing veracity of his situation was that Harry was nothing but a worker, and hardly a friend. 

It sits weird on his tongue, now, the word Employee. He was a failed friend, and never a lover. 

No, he doesn’t think he could have invented his feelings for Louis, but any fantasy that Louis could ever reciprocate something for him was just that… a fantasy. A daydream that Harry let run too wild, and now he was facing the imminent repercussions. 

Harry knows he has no right to be upset, to feel angry and betrayed that Louis would look for somebody else during his heat. It was normal, natural even, to look for help during such a vulnerable time. He had no claim over Louis, they weren’t mated, they weren’t married, they were nothing. And even though just the thought of them being “nothing” stung Harry’s heart and reverberated bitterness through his veins, he was realistic enough to admit that Louis had done nothing wrong. 

They were boss and employee, nothing more, and he had to remember it. 

“Your alpha is showing,” Savannah says. It’s not meant to be snarky, and her tone conveys more compassion and understanding than Harry is expecting.

“Why couldn’t he find somebody here, though? Somebody that was going to put his well being over their own convenience.” It was a reasonable question for Harry to ask. Why hadn’t Louis found somebody closer to home? Why did he have to fly there ? “Somebody that… like--” 

“Somebody like you?” 

Harry’s hand slips on the wheel out of pure shock, and the car swerves just barely before he’s able to regain control and straighten the car out. 

“I-- I didn’t-- I,” he stutters out. He feels like he’s on display when he manages to make eye contact with Savannah once more, and she’s staring directly back. 

“Mhmm,” Savannah muses. When Harry pulls up to the warehouse, she’s quick to slide out of the car, but not without leaving Harry with a peculiar piece of advice, “It’s not such a shot in the dark.” 

It does little to clarify anything for the alpha. 

～♕～

Harry is waiting at the airport five days later when a magazine on the display catches his eye. 

“Louis Tomlinson Spotted in Paris with Former Rumoured Beau for a Romantic Walk Through the City” 

This isn’t the first time that Harry has seen his employer on the cover of a trashy magazine written to exploit the famous, but the thing that makes Harry absolutely shake with inexplicable rage is the photo they have splashed over the cover. 

Louis’ face is lit up with the flashes of what seem like multiple cameras though he looks like he’s trying to keep his face hidden in the vessel of Luke’s chest, but Luke has his chin held high and an arrogant grin swallowing his cheeks. He’s simply parading Louis around like a show piece. 

In the corner, Harry can see an unfamiliar fear in his boss’ eye. His cheeks are bright red, and there’s a fresh sheen of sweat that is covering every inch of his visible skin. By just a simple picture, Harry knew Louis belonged in the house away from prying eyes and nosey alphas. He was clearly in a later stage of his heat, when he should be made to feel safe and protected, not toted around like a doll. 

Harry opens the page and reads the article without a second thought, 

“Louis Tomlinson was spotted on the streets of Paris with former rumored boyfriend and long time friend, Luke Malark, last night for a romantic evening walk. Though the renowned and highly-controversial designer declined to comment, Luke happily suggested that this was not Tomlinson’s first night in Paris. With weeks away from his newest launch, Tomlinson has found time to galavant through foreign streets, leaving other big-industry names baffled as they confine themselves to long hours inside the office. Does this mean that Tomlinson geared and ready, weeks in advance? Though we can’t be sure, time will surely tell if Louis Tomlinson can answer the age-old question-- Can this omega have his cake and eat it, too?” 

Harry quickly puts down the magazine in a quiet fit of aggression. It’s wrong, so so wrong— did nobody else see what he sees ? Could nobody else tell that Louis was in actual danger in this photo? 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been thinking about this the past five days. Even while Gemma was here, bless her soul, he just could not help himself but think of Louis in a foreign country, in heat, with another alpha. No matter how hard they tried, Harry couldn’t focus on anything else. They rode around the city, they visited shops, they went out for dinner, and nothing. Harry was constantly surrounded by people, his sister and her friends, yet he couldn’t help but feel completely desolate without the one person he wanted to be with. 

When he finally sees Louis step out of his tiny plane, there’s an undeniable and inappropriate sense of relief that flashes through him. Without restraint, Harry’s eyes are searching over his boss’ body as he walks down the tarmac with suitcases in tow-- no injuries, no visible signs of distress. It appeases his alpha, calms him down for the first time in what feels like eons . 

Louis is meek when he approaches the alpha waiting by the trunk of his car-- his eyes are cast down and he doesn’t attempt to bring them up. 

“Mr. Tomlinson, how was your flight,” Harry prods. There’s a hint of jest in his voice to cover the tension he’s sure is fluttering about the air between them. When Louis looks up to meet him, he’s sure to give a warm smile-- it’s a clear message, no hard feelings. 

Louis shrugs, “Perfectly pleasant, Mr. Styles. Happy to be in the homeland.” 

Harry notices that his voice is tired and scratched, but doesn’t pry for an answer-- instead,  he puts his boss’ luggage in the boot and escorts his boss into the back seat. 

Louis’ airport clothes would always be Harry’s favorite outfit on the omega. It always consists of something soft and easily converted into a blanket for the harsh draft of the airplane; today it was a thick knit cardigan paired with worn grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. It was simple, and it brought out the softness in Louis’ features-- his scruffy bed hair, and his fingers that peaked through the over-stretched sweater sleeves. It was a nice change to the elaborate details of Louis’ usual wardrobe. 

He doesn’t think much of Louis’ response, it’s more formal and cordial than he would have liked, but Harry chalks it up to jet lag and general post-heat irritability. When he gets in the driver’s seat, though, he can smell Louis’ frustration. It’s an odd smell to the alpha, one he’s not used to experiencing, so he turns back to see the small omega with his nose scrunched up in the air. 

“Mr. Tomlinson?” He asks hesitantly. 

Louis wastes no time responding, “What whore did you have back here?” 

It’s so harsh that Harry physically recoils from the words. Though he had not thought about it, he supposes that Gemma could have accidentally altered and left her scent in the car-- they had spent a lot of time together and-- 

“It’s bad enough you smell like her, but my car?” It’s meant to sound more harsh, more bitter, but the truth is that Harry can sense a shift in Louis’ words-- it wasn’t anger anymore. No, instead, a dull sadness had swept away the omega’s anger and taken its place. Harry wasn’t sure which was worse. When the alpha looks back at his boss, there is no hint of sadness in his features. Instead, the omega’s emotion is masked by a nasty sneer and angry eyes-- a face he’s never seen before directed at him, and never wants to see again. 

“My sister,” Harry says plainly. He’s building up his professionalist walls once again. If Louis wanted to act rashly, he had to be the calm one. Harry understands Louis’ situation-- an omega coming home after heat-- and is able to write this behavior off as a symptom of Louis’ post-heat. Of course he didn’t want to smell another, unfamiliar smell, in a space that he had rightfully claimed as his. 

When Louis hears Harry, his face softens and for a moment, shame overcomes his features. He’s obviously embarrassed. 

“Oh,” Louis says. He sinks back into the leather of the car without another word and Harry lets him steep in the shame for a minute. 

“Hello?” Louis says, breaking the silence. He’s cradling his phone to his ear when the alpha looks back at him, “No-- no, it has to be today. Well, can’t Nina do it ? Amarra? Well who approved the PTO? I didn’t! Send Avanna to do it. Ugh! Is nobody available? Because I’ll go myself so help me… Let them know I’m coming.” 

Harry stays quiet as he listens-- he’s amazed by how effortlessly Louis can go back to commanding his company after being away for nearly a week. 

“Harry?” Louis asks. It’s gentler than his previous provocation, and Harry welcomes the change. 

“Sir?” 

Louis rolls his eyes, “Change of plans,” He responds, “I need you to stop at the boutique near Basil street, right off of Hyde park.” 

While Harry reroutes the navigation, he hears Louis rummaging through something in the back seat. When he takes a look behind him, Harry has to physically cover his mouth to stop himself from omitting an audible gasp for what he sees he’s sure will be stained on his brain with the deepest crimson mark. 

Louis is sitting in the middle of the seat, topless as he rummages through his bag. Harry’s holding his breath now, and he can hear the little mumbles coming from the omega behind him, “shirt, shirt, shirt.” 

There’s a glint that catches Harry’s eye, at first he thinks he’s seeing things, but when he refocuses and catches the sight of a dainty gold waist chain, he’s sure that he could pass out. There’s a dip in the road and Harry nearly misses it so he swerves, just barely, to avoid it. It alerts Louis, though, so he looks up immediately. 

He’s frazzled from being caught, but quickly recovers his smooth and snarky demeanor, “Eyes on the road,” he admonishes. 

Harry turns a fiery read, and readverts his eyes to the road. Okay, he tells himself, he’s just changing for work. No big deal.  

Except it’s a very, very big deal. Colossal. Every part of him wants to keep looking back, to study the parts of Louis’ skin that he’s never had the privilege to see. In every fantasy, in every dream he’s had since he discovered his amorous desires, he’s thought about this very torso that was just an arms reach away. That very chest. He knows Louis could probably smell him, smell how nervous he was getting. He felt so foolish, like an adolescent alpha who’s gone through his first heat. It’s so overwhelming, yet so… stimulating at the same time. 

He’s glancing up every so often, trying to keep his breathing calm as he sneaks his glances. He sees Louis beginning to slide off his pants-- the way his thumbs hook under the elastic of his waistband, the way it curves under the protruding bone of his hip-- and he rips his eyes away again. He’s unwilling to cross such an intimate barrier without Louis’ explicit permission. 

He only dares look back to Louis again when they pull up to the store. He’s laying across the back seat, with his feet up in the air as he pulls on his boots and with his newfound imagery he can picture Louis just like this. So openly vulnerable. Waiting for him, just him. Washed away are the thoughts of another alpha that had plagued his mind for five days, and brought anew is the harrowing reality that there is so much more that Harry wants from his boss than just employment. 

When Harry walks around the car, he’s forced to shake the images from his mind lest his arousal be noticed by any omega in a 10 foot radius, Louis included. But when Louis gets out of the car, with his legs painstakingly accentuated by flared pants that hug every inch of his body and whispers, “Did you like what you see?” Harry can’t help but gape.  His voice is breathless and there is a shy bite to his words despite their domineering nature that is keeping Harry’s alpha tossed in a fit of unquenchable thirst. 

Louis’ cheeks are flushed with the most innocent shade of pink, and Harry may be able to convince himself that what he heard was just a figment of his newly overactive imagination, but when he sees the way that his boss gives him a sly wink before hurrying up into the store, he’s sure that it was real. 

Harry is a stuttering mess, but with ten cars honking behind him to move the car from the street, he’s forced to pick his jaw off the floor and get back into the car. 

Maybe this tension wasn’t as unrequited as Harry thinks. He’s not sure why, but there’s something deeply unsettling about that fact. 

～♕～

Harry wants to punch himself in the face. He’s convinced he’s the worst alpha in the world and in no uncertain terms, he should own a shirt declaring him the asshole king of his whole gender. It has been a whole day since the car-changing incident with Louis and they have not exchanged a word more than a dry goodbye that day and hello today. 

He should have never looked in the backseat, he should have never made it so obvious. 

Did Louis just say what he did to diffuse any tension? Did Harry just imagine the way Louis' voice sent an excruciating wave of unfiltered want and need? He couldn’t be sure. Instead of torturing himself with uncertainties Harry regresses to what he knows best-- rigid professionalism. If Louis was uncomfortable, Harry would sterilize any traces of his possessive alpha and out of control fantasies to ensure his job security and Louis’ feelings. 

“Yeah Lotts, no I understand. You know me, I get it more than anybody else. Yeah yeah, I’ll see you soon. We’ll catch up, yeah? Alright, love you. Bye.” 

The only problem with Harry’s  logic is that it completely erases any progress on their “friendship.” And though this friendship had only consisted of post-work meals with Louis and Savannah with light, small talk, Harry would have otherwise felt comfortable asking Louis why after that seemingly inconspicuous conversation, the omega was moping in the backseat with his forehead pressed on the glass as if he were in an early 2000s music video.

 Harry shouldn’t feel so compelled to comfort his boss when he’s like this, and he’s sure it’s taking every ounce of his steely self-control not to crack.

“Harry?” 

And oh. That’s new. 

The omega seems shy in the backseat, like he’s curled himself in a blanket of hesitancy and is a moment away from crumbling into tears. 

“Louis?” Not Mr. Tomlinson. Not sir.  

It’s an olive branch of words, a way of shattering the surface tension in the car’s atmosphere. 

“What does your sister look like?” 

It’s an odd question, far from anything Harry was expecting. 

“Like me, but shorter. Less cool and longer hair. She’s um-- well actually I think that’s it.” It’s an unremarkable response-- Gemma is, well, just Gemma. Though Harry’s not really given much thought to how others may view her, he thinks his response is perfectly astute. But a perfectly astute response would not illicit hushed tears from the man in the back seat. 

“Louis?” Harry ventures when he notices the omega crying. He’s not sobbing, he’s not angry, but the few tears that manage to slip from his bosses’ eyes are concerning enough that Harry is consistently glancing to the back of his seat. 

Louis looks up at him and foolishly tries to wipe the tears from his eyes as if Harry had not already caught the whole ordeal. 

“You probably think I’m the worst,” He mutters, “A mess that can’t keep myself together.” He laughs like he’s joking, but Harry knows his boss enough to say that self-deprecating humor was not Louis’ preferred comedic routine, “My sister was meant to stay here with me for a week in a couple days, she just called and cancelled.” 

“Oh,” Harry says empathetically. From what the alpha could tell, Louis was close to his family. Among the plethora of magazines and stacks of fabric samples that lay adorning different parts of the omega’s home, there were twice as many family photos. They couldn’t live close, Harry thinks logically, because then he would have seen them more often than not. Instead, in his three years working with Louis, Harry has yet to meet all of the omega’s siblings. 

“It’s just--” Louis sighs. He shakes his head and straightens himself up in the seat, “No, you know what? Just ignore me, I’m being a little kid about this.” 

Harry puckers his lips at this and begins to slow down on the road, “No, Louis. I think you’re entitled to feel how you’re feeling.” It’s a bold validation, but it’s something that Harry knows is appropriate. Something that he feels Louis will appreciate. 

Louis lets out just the smallest hum of recognition, “I just think that I’ve been so overwhelmed-- with everything. The show is only weeks away, and a--and Savannah just sent me the absolute worst article that the Daily Mail released just this morning about me, my line-- my--” he sniffles. 

Harry’s convinced he’s watching the rearview mirror more than he’s watching the road. Louis is throwing pheromones left and right-- anxiety and sadness, loneliness and insecurity-- and Harry can feel it tenfold. He’s so paranoid that he begins to pull over to the side out of excessive precaution. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Harry murmurs; his tone is hushed and fills the car with calmness. “Louis c’mon. It’s okay.” Louis won’t look at him, though. It’s frustrating and Harry’s alpha is begging him to reach back and scoop the smaller man up in his arms. To scent him and assuage any pent up depressive thought. 

Louis looks up at him eventually, but his eyes dart away just as quickly. Harry follows their path to try and see what Louis is looking at, but all he comes up with is the empty passenger seat. He can see a conflict in Louis’ eyes-- the scrunch on the bridge of his nose and the glassed over, unfocused gaze give him away-- but before he can say another word, Louis has his hands on the metal bar of both the front seats’ headrests and he’s climbing over the center console. 

Though Harry’s never given it much thought, this is the first time he’s been a breath away from Louis’ body. If Harry moved even a hair while Louis was climbing through the car, they would touch. It was breathtaking for Harry,  the thrill and anticipation-- the possibility that he could just reach and touch a person that he had spent the past few weeks pining over. 

When he settles in the front, Louis begins to wiggle his hips, getting accommodated to the leather and change of perspective. He looks up at Harry under desolate, hooded eyes and asks, “Is this okay?” 

It’s a ridiculous question, and Harry has to stop himself from laughing and potentially embarrassing his boss, “It’s your car,” Harry reminds him gently with a warm smile. 

Louis closes his eyes when he realizes his faux pas. With an airy laugh, Harry thinks for a second that it’s enough to resolve the omegas anxiety, but he’s proven wrong when the crestfallen frown finds his face once again. 

“How about,” Harry says quietly, “We go grab cheesecake from that store off the road by your house?” It’s a telling suggestion— Louis has requested a very specific cheesecake from a very specific store for the past three years— raspberry chocolate with a syrup drizzle. It’s his go to celebration cake, birthday cake, post-heat cake, and everything in between. Harry could honestly say that he’s never seen Louis happier than when he’s coming home from the market. Maybe after a launch, but even then Harry could argue against it. 

Louis’ eyes flash with a spark of happiness— like he should have thought of it himself, and with a quick nod and what Harry first assumes to be a lack of better judgement, he launches himself into Harry’s arms across the center console. 

In his mind's eye, he had never given much thought to how Louis would feel in a real hug, but having the omega so firmly in his arms, he realizes that even if he had, nothing in his alpha-bred brain could have come close by any margin to how Louis feels. And no matter how hard he could try, Harry could not manage to string together a sentence worthy enough to encapsulate the truly intoxicating sensation of Louis pressed so tight to his being. 

Harry loses himself in the feeling, the ecstasy of having the omega so close that he almost misses it. It’s subtle at first— a barely-there sniff that could be mistaken as a short breath— but then, it’s followed quickly by another and then another. 

Louis’ nose is placed just above his scent gland, and his breaths are getting quicker like he’s expecting something. And then it clicks. 

He’s trying to get scented. His nose is digging desperately at Harry’s scent gland as if begging for more, and the alpha wants nothing more than to give it to him. He’s grabbing onto Harry tighter now, arms still gripping close like he’s just… waiting for what he wants. And Harry’s going to give it to him. 

Harry’s wrapping his arms around Louis when he starts, carefully he begins scenting the omega snuggled in a tight hug. 

It begins to make sense to Harry while he does it— Louis is an omega, recently out of heat, under a lot of stress— he’s touch starved, and he’s looking from comfort from an alpha he trusts. It’s startling at first for Harry, the thought that Louis trusts him enough to melt into his arms and be scented, but it also seems to stroke his ego. Louis trusts him enough that he can be scented the first time he touches the omega. Harry’s nearly certain that Louis did not have a pleasant heat if he’s this desperate, and when the images from the airport magazine resurface in a memory he had hoped to bury deep, Harry has to sequester his alpha and force himself not to react so viscerally to the thought of Louis laying there without an alpha worthy and willing to protect him. 

It’s not that time for that, no, and Harry tucks away the thought later to process and work through. Now was the time to comfort Louis, to assure him that he’s safe enough to relax in the face of such a stressful time in his life. 

By the time Harry is satisfied with how he’s doused Louis in his scent, he runs his hand up and down the omegas back, shaking him from his momentary peace. The omega sniffles again, nose pressed tight against Harry's neck, and with a shy and tiny smile, he’s looking back up to the alpha. 

It’s innocent, like an invisible thank you, and Harry takes the moment in, takes his careful time to remember every detail— the way Louis’ hair falls precariously into the very eyes that have hypnotized and controlled his every waking thought, the corners of his lips that carry the most delicate wrinkles as memories of every smile he’s ever produced. It’s Louis’ precious beauty in the eyes of an Alpha who realizes for just how long he’s felt such enriched romantic sentiments for a man he had no business caring for. 

Louis blinks away quickly, and Harry notices a flush pink tinge occupy his cheeks. He’s pulling away now, and Harry almost wishes he could hold him there— even for just a second longer— so Louis could feel just how much he wanted, maybe even needed, it too. 

“Cheesecake?” Harry asks awkwardly. It's not what he wants to say or what he wishes he has the courage to say, rather. It’s a cop out, a cheap filler to frost over the true moment they just shared. 

Louis purses his lips in thought before nodding in silent agreement. Harry’s sure the moments passed, and he’s already mourning the loss of Louis' warm body pressed so unbelievably close to his own, when he hears the faintest, “Harry?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Louis’ body turned directly to him as he pulls back on to the road. 

“Louis?” Harry answers 

“We should hang out sometime.” 

“Like, dinner with Savannah?” Harry asks dumbly

“No… like, y’know. Hang out,” Louis presses on. 

“Oh, like…. outside of the car?” Harry’s 0-2 for possibly the dumbest question, and Louis looks like he’s about to hit him. 

“Yes, like outside of the car. We should, I don’t know… like go to a movie. Maybe dinner,” Louis says, melting away his momentary frustration, “Just the two of us,” he tacks on quickly. 

Harry finds it immeasurably cute— the way Louis, once so confident and assured, falls to a stumbling mess when he’s asking the alpha on something that can only be described as a date. 

“You want to have dinner with me… like a date?” Harry clarifies. 

Louis’ eyes brighten, and his lips curve in a mischievous grin, “Well, I thought you’d never ask. Of course I would.” Gone is the brief bout of insecurity in the omega as he twists Harry’s words. 

“But— you were the one who—“ Harry tries. 

“I’m free on Thursday?” Louis interrupts. 

Harry figures out quickly that this isn’t something that Louis is going to openly admit, and he really shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

“I suppose I am too,” he concedes. 

It doesn’t hit Harry until after he’s dropped the omega off home with a whole cheesecake in hand that he’s just agreed to a date with his boss. 

～♕～

They agree, on Louis’ own suggestion, to a quiet dinner at Louis’ house. Harry shouldn’t feel so anxious— he’s had dinner at Louis’ house, he’s been inside, and he’s spent at least 75 percent of his time with the omega since the date of his employment. Yet, as Harry pulls up to the omega’s house he notices that his palms feel so slick with anxious condensation that he fears he might slip right off the wheel. 

And when he finally gets to the door, bouquet of orchids and daisies in hand, he spends 30 seconds trying to fully wrap his head around what he is walking into. 

A date. With his boss. At his house. 

After three knocks, Louis quickly swings the door open. “Harry! Come in, come inside,” he says, ushering Harry inside. 

“I’m— um, these are for you,” Harry answers quickly, pushing the flowers at Louis. The omega takes the flowers in his arms with a bright smile. The bouquet is heavier than Harry had expected, and it covers nearly all of Louis' chest. 

“Oh wow,” Louis whispers, looking at each petal, “these are just breathtaking,” 

Harry nods quickly with a shy smile taking over his lips, “My mum used to work for a florist, she helped me pick out the flowers over the phone,” 

Louis raises his eyebrows, “I can tell… let me put these in some water, come to the kitchen, dinners almost ready.” 

Harry follows him through the hallway when he hears Louis from ahead of him, “I didn’t have much time to cook, I’ve been working from my home office today, but I had this made for us from Villa Bella.” 

Harry purses his lips, “And here I thought I was getting a home cooked meal.” 

It’s a gentle hearted tease that he hopes will break the ice. Thankfully, Louis’ laughter soon fills their space. 

“I can cook,” he promises, “But tonight was a no-go.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Louis I’ve known you now for three years. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you cooking.” 

Louis spins on his heels once they reach the dining room, “Listen, I send out for my groceries, but I do cook. I’m an omega after all,” he says sarcastically.

It’s meant as political satire, a joke on the home economics courses that all omegas are forced to take in school, but there is still a personal bite to it— like Louis was offended that Harry might actually believe he couldn’t cook or take care of himself. 

“I’ll have to see for myself one day then,” Harry muses. It’s a smooth like, one that he’s not sure how he was able to manage when he still felt like his whole body was shaking with nerves. 

“Asking me out again already? We’re not even done with the first date,” 

It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Louis, once the initial tension was broken. They talk about family, about work, the people and places that Louis’ gone. For the first time, Harry’s infatuation feels more than just… a serious crush. 

It’s more than the idea of Louis. And although Louis has been physically there the whole time, now Louis seems reachable, tangible. For once, it’s not so outlandish to think that they could be anything more. 

Harry loses track of time so quickly that it’s passed 1 AM when he checks his phone. 

“Oh wow,” Harry says, “I didn’t realize it was so late,” 

Louis looks at the clock on the wall, “Oh jeez, sorry. I was talking too much, I’ll walk you out,” he laughs. 

Harry shakes his head, “No, no, it’s fine,” he assures. On their way to the door, Harry can’t help but wish to say more. To express just how much he enjoyed hearing Louis talk about his family and tell his different stories. If he had the choice, he would stay up trying to memorize every story, every moment they shared. 

When they get to the front, Louis’ waiting for him at the door frame. “I had a good time tonight,” He whispers, “Thank you.” 

Harry’s watching him, almost unwilling to cross the threshold and end their date, “Thank you , Mr. Tomlinson.” 

Louis’ laughing now, “Have a good night, Harry,” he says. Positioning himself in front of the alpha, he places a hand on Harry’s chest. 

Harry looks down at the hand on his chest, and without really thinking about his next move, he places his hand on Louis’ chin. The omegas eyes shutter close immediately, and without much pressure from Harry, he’s tilting his head up and waiting for what Harry knows is a kiss. 

He’s embarrassed to admit it, but he’s scared to close the gap. He’s scared to make the move that he knows will effectively end any semblance of professional boundaries. If he were to back away now, he believes he could pretend that tonight was all a lie— that he didn’t feel such a strong and overwhelming connection to the omega; that he didn’t want this. 

But when he sees Louis standing there, so vulnerable with his eyes closed and waiting for the alpha, Harry knows what he needs to do. His mind is an engine, spitting out the same thought over and over, “ Louis, Louis, Louis,” 

So he leans in, closes his own eyes, and slots their lips together, and allows himself to experience the emotions he’s held back for far too long. 

It’s sweet, with Harry’s hand cradling Louis' cheek, and the omega’s hand flat against the alpha’s chest. Their kiss is kind and inviting, it asks Harry to memorize their feel, their taste. And their kiss is tempting, with Louis beginning to nip at the softest pucker of the alpha’s lips. 

Harry pulls away just quickly enough to earn a curious ‘hmrph’ from Louis and a raised eyebrow. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry says with a breathless laugh. It seems like an appropriate finish to the night— a tempting kiss to end a surreal night. 

And although Harry feels the reluctance begging him to cave and return to the tantalizing taste of Louis’ puckered pink lips, he knows it’s time to leave. With a self-surprising amount of willpower, Harry steps past the door and with a nod and shy wave he’s off to his car. 

Although he  leaves Louis, Louis doesn’t seem to leave his mind the whole night. Or morning for that matter. Instead, Harry can’t keep the little omega out of his mind. The way his eyes looked when he pulled away, the way he smelled when Harry was up so close, the way his heart ached when he left. 

It seems like Louis occupied every thought-- his past, his present, and most importantly, his  future. 

～♕～

Harry finds himself thinking about Louis as he gets ready in the morning. He ties his tie and presses it firm against his chest, he takes extra time to iron his shirt and shave his stubble, all while secretly hoping that Louis would notice. That a clean shave might give Louis the excuse to press one of his baby-soft hands against the alpha’s chin. 

It seems like his effort pays off when Harry’s holding open the door for Louis later that day, and the omega animatedly pats his cheek and greets him with a, “Looking sharp, Mr. Styles.” 

Before Harry can respond, there’s a glass container being shoved into his hands, “And what’s this?” The alpha asks, holding it up to his eye.  On the inside Harry can see little slices of steak, mashed potatoes and what looked like vegetables, but before he can look up and ask, Louis’ grinning from ear to ear. 

“I said I was going to cook for you, didn’t I?” He says confidently. 

Harry raises his eyebrows high. The thing is, it looks delicious. There’s a gentle drizzle over the steak, and the potatoes look smooth and creamy. The vegetables look perfectly roasted as if under the broiler. 

“Oh my-- wow. Thank you,” Harry stutters out, “When did you even have the time? I went home late last night.” 

Louis looks away shyly, “I woke up early,” He admits. 

Harry down at Louis with his mouth open agape. It’s overwhelmingly sweet, to the point that Harry wonders what he did to even deserve something like this. He wasn’t sure how Louis even had the time-- he must have put off some kind of work to do this instead. And just the thought that Louis would even consider him worth it enough to put off something for his career… it was beyond Harry’s vocabulary. 

“Louis,” He breathes, “You really didn’t have to. Thank you so so much.” 

Louis looks worried for a minute, his eyes fall and Harry can only describe it as a look of regret, “I mean if you don’t want it I mean, I just, I thought you would like it…” 

“No, no, no. I do, I appreciate it. I can’t wait to eat it,” Harry promises. It’s interesting to see Harry assuring Louis. Usually the omega was so confident, he’s the type to dominate conversations and command entire rooms. But in this moment, when he’s presenting Harry with something that he made, he’s what could only be described as insecure.  

It satisfies him in the most archaic of ways. He’s going to make sure that this omega is well assured that his gift is appreciated. If he could, he would eat it right now, at 8 o’clock in the morning, right in front of Louis just to show him how much he appreciates the effort he knows it took to make this food. 

“I was thinking,” Louis says, “We could eat it over lunch? I have mine, too.” 

“I think that would be lovely,” Harry grins. 

～♕～ 

It becomes a regular thing for them. Louis brings Harry a plate of food, they eat together up in the office, or if it’s a really nice day, in the park just across the street. Harry looks forward to their lunch dates every day, and for once he’s sure Louis’ does too. Maybe it’s the way Louis meticulously checks his watch once an hour, waiting for lunch. Or maybe it’s the way his eyes light up just as Harry opens the container to try his cooking. He’s not sure, but all he knows is that it’s the best part of his day. 

Not to mention that Louis’ cooking has quickly become his undeniable favorite thing to eat. Louis is a natural in the kitchen, and Harry is sure that it was partly due to his infatuation with the omega, but all Harry can think about was how he wishes he could have food like this every day for the rest of his life. He is in over his head, it’s only been a few weeks, but Harry’s become so irrevocably obsessed with Louis. They text and call every day, even on Harry’s day off, even when Louis should be in his meetings. 

But today, while Harry waits outside of the office building during Louis’ usual lunch break, he’s surprised to see the omega coming out with an unusual grimace on his lips. 

“Lou?” He asks. It’s a new nickname that accidentally slipped out one day during their lunch date. Harry had nearly choked on his rice, scared that he had overstepped a boundary too soon, but Louis had the most serene happiness in the little wrinkles by his eyes, that Harry didn’t have to think twice before saying it again. 

“I think I need to cancel our lunch,” Louis says miserably. 

“Oh?” Harry implores. 

Louis nods his head, “I have to go home and pick up some drafts that I thought I had brought yesterday--God, I’m such an airhead-- and then I have to send some work over to the New York office for my VP and--” 

“Louis, Louis,” Harry assures, “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll take you home.” It hurts to say, and every part of Harry wants to say “fuck work! Screw it! Call out, spend the day with me!” 

It’s incredibly unrealistic, and he would never ask Louis (mostly out of fear of rejection, though Harry would never admit this) to do so.  So as he guides Louis into the back of the car with a ginger hand on his side, Harry can only imagine what a real day off with Louis would look like. 

Louis’ been sitting in the passenger's seat more often. Mostly when there’s nobody else (i.e Savannah) in the car to entertain, and Harry has learned to cherish their moments in the car as quality due to the scarcity in “real” alone time. Louis independently chooses to sit beside him, and it’s enough to make Harry’s heart purr, but even that isn’t helping the sinking longing festering in his stomach when he drives. 

It shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does. Louis was a busy man, with an important business to run. Harry knows that, and he knew it when he first agreed to… whatever it was they were doing. He tries convincing himself to suck it up, that he’s being overly dramatic, but nothing will cure the lingering dejection that seeps into his very marrow at the thought of missing the one thing he was looking forward to all day. 

When they pull up to the omega’s home, Harry notices that Louis doesn’t make the immediate move to leave. Instead, Louis is sitting with his eyes lowered to his lap, and Harry quickly smells a faint sadness coming from the man. 

“Harry?” He finally asks, “I mean, I might not be much company, but do you want to come inside for lunch? I have to get some work done, but. I dunno.” 

Louis has this terrible habit of rambling when he’s asking a favor of Harry. To Harry, it’s a refreshing break from the rigid, put-together entrepreneur that the world knows him as. It was a side to Louis that Harry knew was reserved for the very few people he trusted. And it was a side that was so traditionally omega that shocks Harry even now. 

Though omegas are taught to be non-intrusive, to apologize for their presence in a space, and to resign themselves to more feminine and unseen roles, Louis was never the type to subscribe himself to that construct. He was boldly himself, and unapologetically created his own space. 

In his work, Louis created clothes for everybody. For everybody ranging from the omega that wanted to be traditional, to the alpha that did not. And though Harry knows that Louis is inclusive of everybody, he finds himself checking his own personal biases and upbringing when he really gets to experience Louis’ ability to navigate and exist on his own terms. And the more he observes, the more Harry realizes how advantageous it could be to simultaneously challenge and affirming gender conceptions. 

“Louis,” Harry starts, “It’s okay, really. I would love to have lunch with you, even if it is only me eating.” 

And so they do. 

Harry sits with Louis while he works from his laptop instead of his home office, and though most of it is in silence, Harry enjoys every minute. He sits next to Louis, feeding him bites from his own plate, making sure that the omega is still eating despite being so focused on his work.

 Harry can see how much it pleases Louis when he lifts the fork up to his lips to feed him a bite-- his nose scrunches, and although he tries to hide it Harry can see the way his lips turn up in the smallest smile. 

When Louis is finished, he closes his laptop with a loud groan, “Finally,” he says, “Twenty emails sent back and forth, drafts and head shots scanned overseas, and it only took me an hour and a half.” 

Harry laughs along with him, “ Only ,” He teases.

Louis looks up at him. He tries to smile, but his eyes are too tired to make it seem genuine.  “Yes, only. I tend to get distracted very easily.” His voice is low, slow. It could be from the exhaustion, and Harry believes that for a moment, but when he really looks at Louis, he can see a mischievous gleam in the light blue of his irises. 

Harry cocks a brow, “Oh?” He asks. 

“Yes, oh so distracted. I guess, today,  you really kept me… focused.” 

Harry watches the omega slide out from the chair and move to stand right in front of him. Everything about the languid movements stirs something awake inside Harry, something that he hasn’t acknowledged since their first kiss. Harry thinks about that moment a lot-- the way that Louis had bitten so delicately, yet so so erotically on his bottom lip. 

It drives him crazy just thinking about it, and Harry thinks often about what may have happened if they were to go ahead and follow the path that was so obviously in front of them. Their kisses since have been small, not as deep as their first. They were hellos and goodbye kisses, the ones not meant to go in any specific directions, but that still express a great affliction for one another. 

But now, with Louis right in front of him, Harry knows that this is not going to be another hello kiss. Rather than a kiss, though, Louis takes Harry’s hand, and pulls him off the stool, “C’mon. Let’s go to the couch.” 

Harry watches Louis in front of him, the way the omega walks is almost as intoxicating as the omega’s sweet carmel-y scent and the way it’s thickening in the air by the second. Harry knows exactly where this is leading, why they’re moving from the kitchen, and what Louis is intentionally doing with his hips right now. 

In all the ways he’s imagined it, Harry was just as eager, hungry and ready to be satiated on top of the omega. As he walks behind the omega, though, he thinks back to those many weeks ago when he first saw Louis cry over the, as he put it, “stupid fucking knotheads” and he can’t help but feel wary. They haven’t had a conversation about their relationship-- where they stand, what their intentions are, what each other wanted. Could Louis think that he is just in it for a convenient lay? 

Logically thinking, Harry knows that they are closer than a simple friends with benefits arrangement, but the uncertainty, the lack of communication between both parties in regard to their relationship status, tills around in his mind as Louis sits him on the couch. 

Internally, Harry is panicking. He wonders if Louis can smell him, smell the turmoil that’s going on inside of his brain. He wants something very specific from the omega, and now as Louis’ hand races up his thigh with a minxy smile, pouring over his face, Harry isn’t sure that they’re on the same page. 

He’s looking from Louis’ hand, up to his face, and then back again struggling to verbalize what he’s feeling. How do you put something like this into words without disrupting the mood? On one hand, Harry knows that he is ready for whatever Louis is going to give him, but on the other he recognizes how fragile whatever it is they have is. 

If something goes wrong, Harry knows he’s potentially jeopardizing whatever their future may be. 

It’s an anxious roll of intrusive thoughts that speed so rapidly through the alpha’s mind that he pushes a hand over Louis without a second thought. When the omega looks up in confusion, Harry looks so intently into his eyes that he loses whatever eloquent question he was going to pose in a matter of seconds. 

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is a shaky, “Wait, Louis, no.” 

Louis opens his mouth, most likely to question the interruption, but Harry is a truck on black ice swerving to disaster, “I don’t want to be just another guy for you.” 

The minute it leaves his mouth, Harry realizes just how asinine he sounds. How completely vile, sexist, and nasty it comes across without pretext and insight into the crazy mental jumps he was making just before he said it. 

Harry watches the seasons of emotions dance across Louis’ face-- confusion, denial, disbelief, embarrassment, anger, and finally betrayal. The pain and anger set deep within Louis’ features validates the feeling of untamed desperation that has quickly flooded Harry’s veins. He’s fucked up. He knows it. 

    Louis pushes away from Harry faster than he’s ever seen the omega move, effectively creating a sizable distance between the two of them. 

“Get out.” It’s simple, it’s straight to the point, and it makes Harry’s body go numb. He knows Louis is serious, he’s standing tall and puffing out his chin-- a typically alpha stance of dominance, and if he weren’t terrified he would be able to appreciate the significance. 

“Louis, I didn’t mean it like--” 

“Get. Out.” Louis cuts him off with a growl. It’s borderline feral, and ladened with untapped and boiling anger. 

Louis leaves no space for discussion in between his words, no matter how much Harry wishes he would. So he has no choice but to surrender, and walk out of the omega’s house knowing that he’s just defiled the one thing that he tried so hard to preserve. 

And on the drive home, Harry realizes that he’s lost not only his chance, but  most likely his job as well. Though for once, Harry can’t make himself care about the latter. 

～♕～ 

It’s three days. Three days since he was nearly forcibly removed from Louis’ house and he’s gotten nothing but deafening silence from the omega. 

Despite literally working for the man, he’s not seen the omega since he shamefully walked down the cobblestone pathway of his house. Every day about an hour before his shift, Savannah calls to tell him that Louis has decided to work from home. 

Three days. Three days in a row. Harry knows this can’t be about work-- fashion week is fast approaching, this is valuable time that Louis usually spends in the days working for at least 12 hours in the head office. No, it’s not about work, this is about Harry. The more days that he stays home to sulk and mull over what had actually transpired between the two of them, the more Harry feels like the biggest knothead on the planet. 

“I don’t want to be just another guy for you...” 

What a fucking douche. Who even says something like that? Well, Harry thinks, I guess I say things like that. There were so many better ways to phrase it, and as an act of self-inflicted penance, his brain came up with what felt like forty two alternatives just on the way to the car day.

It should be ironic-- the very opposite of what Harry was trying to say and show the omega was the very thing that came out of his mouth. He knows, especially as he rakes himself over the flaming hot coals of his humiliation, that he never intended to hurt Louis or try to scorn him over his past. In fact, Harry was trying to do the opposite. He was trying to prove to Louis that he wasn’t going to be like the alpha’s that he dated before. That he wanted to take things slow and show him that he was in it for the long haul. 

Fate would have it, though, that he’s only so eloquent after potentially screwing himself beyond repair. 

On the fourth day, when Savannah calls Harry at dawn, he’s bitten with edge, “Let me guess,” He garbles over the phone in a sleep-laced voice, “Mr. Tomlinson has decided to work from home.” 

It’s more bitter than he’s probably entitled to. He’s dug himself into a hole, probably deeper than he can ever imagine clawing himself out of, and he’s the one bitter about it. 

“Good morning to you, too, Harry,” Savannah says cooly. She’s been cold to the alpha ever since the first call. Harry assumes it’s because Louis’ voluntary house arrest makes her job all that more difficult. “You’re wrong. Louis needs you to be ready by 8 at his house. He has some things he needs to bring to the office, and some in person approvals for his line. Something he can’t get out of.” 

“Really?” He asks incredulously. He’s not able to adequately process Savannah’s attitude this early, and he believes that only one person has permission to be angry with him. Which is probably why when Savannah snaps back at him, he’s taken far aback. 

“Yes, really, Harry. For the first time in days the world isn’t going to revolve around you and your hellish decisions. Maybe you should try to keep it that way and learn from your mistakes-- keep your mouth shut and your eyes on the road. Maybe you’ll keep your job while simultaneously not hurting the one person stupid enough to listen to your god-awful anecdotes.” 

It stings, and Harry’s not sure what hurts more. There, of course, is the shame that comes with Savannah knowing that he hurt somebody that they both cared about. 

It’s not important, though. He’s not prideful enough to cling onto the shame-- he is, and realizes that he always will be, more hurt over the fact he hurt Louis.  

～♕～ 

Harry is sure that you could wring out his shirt and fill a gallon jug with his anxious perspiration. He had to blast the car’s air because he was sure he was going to sweat through his suit jacket and that was far too embarrassing to recover from. He finds himself driving unnecessarily fast down the familiar roads to Louis’ house considering he’s already twenty minutes ahead of schedule. 

His earliness is a byproduct of his anxiety after Savannah had hung up the phone. Harry was faced with the possibility of being too early where it will leave him outside alone to his thoughts while he’s faced with the reality that the very omega he’s been obsessing over for the past three days is just a few feet away while also battling with the thought of arriving late to Louis already standing outside of his house, giving Harry no time to check if he looks okay in the mirror or to air out his sweaty armpits. 

Harry decides it’s better to be early and have a mild freak out in the car rather than have Louis impatient and angry at his tardiness. He’s fully expecting to see Savannah walk out of the very same glass door he was kicked out from just a few days ago, but is quite shocked to see Louis walking by himself down the stone path to the BMW. 

Harry’s waiting for him by the passenger’s side door, ready to open the door, when Louis makes an obvious turn to the back of the car, opens the side door by himself, and slides in. 

Harry should have expected this. He knows Louis is still upset, his unread and unanswered texts should be proof enough, but seeing Louis not even acknowledge not only hurt him emotionally, but stung the very core of his alpha. To watch Louis blatantly and disrespectfully ignore him, when he was trying to extend a semblance of respect. Frustrating didn’t begin to cover it. 

Harry doesn’t press— how could he when in this position? Maybe he can get Louis talking while they drive into the city. Then he can plead his case. Harry has his whole speech practiced; every word expressing how he was inexplicably apologetic and spent the last few agonizing days filled with the most dramatic anguish and self hatred. Harry what he really meant, and how seriously he wants to try again and make this work for them. 

When Harry returns to drivers seat, he’s taken aback by the sound of Louis’ voice

“Hello?” He hears the omega whisper. It’s a welcomed surprise, the way Harry’s very fingertips go numb at the sound of the little omega’s voice. And in this newly confined space, Harry smells for the first time in days the soury-sweet delicate scent of tangy apples and thick apples. 

Harry thinks it’s for him at first, the greeting, but when he checks his mirror he finds Louis holding his oversized smartphone in the palm of his small hand. 

“No, no I’m not busy, tell me what’s going on.” 

It stings. A lot. Harry sucks it in and pulls away from the omegas driveway. If he doesn’t want to talk now, Harry will wait for Louis to hang up. 

On the drive there, Harry’s mind wanders to where they would be had he not been so foolish. On their everyday rides, when Louis would sit up next to him, they would point out little signs on the roads. Different restaurants they wanted to try, different scenery and landmarks. The most enchanting part of their rides were that they were all theirs. In the privacy of the car, Louis was untouchable by the outside world in a way so unmatched and vulnerable that Harry grew to anticipate their rides. 

In his house, Louis was surrounded by opportunities to work. There were no excuses not to pick up his phone, or even his sketch pad, and do work. In the office, it was hard to get Louis to focus on anything but his brand. But in the car, Louis was fully there . He was in the moment, participatory, and invigorated in ways that Harry knew were unique to the comfortable leather of the car's interior. 

Now, with Louis tucked away with his phone in his hand, he is once again unreachable, and for once Harry begins to doubt ever truly having a moment with Louis in the first place. Was any of this real to the omega, if he’s able to so quickly throw out their established routine? It’s sick, the places Harry’s mind is traveling to-- the way his mind begins to second guess the very things that once brought him joy. But when he starts to feel bad for himself, when he begins to feel even the very hint of self-doubt, he refrains. 

No, he’ll remind himself, you did this to yourself. He is undeserving of any pity, even his own. 

Harry waits patiently for Louis to finish his conversation for his chance to force himself in and create conversation. It takes him a few minutes and a good chunk of their drive, but Harry can hear Louis begin to end his conversation with the required pleasantries. 

“Yeah, alright love. I’ll see you soon. Yeah, yeah, right under the third drawer in my office desk. Perfect. Alright. Talk soon, bye.” 

There is a three second pause, which Harry quickly fills with, “Hey, Lou--” 

He’s cut off by the dial tone of Louis’ phone dialing another number. It’s insurmountably rude, to the point where Harry feels the faintest hint of bubbling anger. He writes it off as not being loud enough, or assertive enough, so he clears his voice. 

“Louis,” He says again. This time, it’s stronger. Confident. Yet, Harry still is met with the most volatile silence. 

The ringing is louder now, as if Louis had raised his volume to drown out Harry’s voice. Harry glances up at Louis through the mirror and finds the omega’s body completely turned away from the driver and facing the car window. 

“Louis,” Harry repeats again with frustration. After everything they had done together, the past three years of Harry’s employment concluded, he knows he deserves more than the silent treatment from his boss. Not only was a human, inherently deserving of respect from his peers, but he was also at least a friend.

No, Harry wasn’t frustrated anymore. He was angry, and with this rage his mind began racing.

“Hey, Gary. No, I’m not busy right now,” Louis says casually. 

Harry’s not sure what sets him off more-- the fact that Louis is pretending that Harry doesn’t exist, or the blatant disrespect. 

“Louis.” Harry growls in vexation. It’s pure alpha, enough to have any omega in a few feet radius attentive and on edge, ready to listen to Harry. He’s pulling off to the side of the road when he hears Louis clear his throat. 

“Yeah...I’m going to have to call you back.” Louis’ voice is meek in comparison to the bellow that had just left Harry’s mouth. It’s small and dainty, ready to make itself smaller in front of Harry. 

Harry hears the ending tone of the phone call when he shuts off the car’s engine, and he immediately turns his body around to face Louis. 

The omega’s face is turned slightly down, as if his body is unwilling to maintain any form of eye contact. It’s a classic form of submission in omegas in response to such a powerful and evoking call to attention from an alpha. 

It’s a rare sight for Harry. He can count the amount of times he has used his alpha voice on an omega on one hand. Though it wasn’t uncommon, Harry recognized the power his voice held over another person and often found it quite a scary part of himself. Unwilling to use such a powerful part of his nature, Harry often seeks different methods if he needs to assert himself. 

In all the times he’s used this voice, though, it was never as an act of aggression. With this as his first, he surprises even himself. In the midst of reconciling with the fact that he’s lost control over a very important part of himself, Louis seems to regain some of his typical bite back. 

“Well you’re just 0 for two recently, aren’t you?” He ridicules. 

Harry begins to fishmouth, “Listen Louis, I--” 

Louis shakes his head, as if he could shake away the feeling that Harry’s voice alone caused. “No,” He says, “You’ve spoken enough, I think.”

“Lou--” Harry begins. 

“Don’t you ‘Lou’ me. You can’t call me that anymore. Only people that love and respect me can.” 

“Louis, please. I didn’t mean to…” 

“You didn’t mean to what? Scream me into submission. I mean that’s low, even for you because first of all, how fucking dare you,” He seeths. His tongue is a whipping silver that’s crafting words that cut deep into Harry’s thinning skin.  

Harry’s eyes are wide in apology, “Louis, look. What I did was wrong, and I regret it. But seeing you intentionally ignore me, it just.. I don’t know if it got to me or something. I’m so sorry Louis, please I just want to talk.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, “Yeah because that was the best way to get me to talk,” he snaps back. 

Harry’s not used to being on the receiving end of Louis' quick wit and jarring bite— it’s a snap to reality he is not quite expecting. 

“Louis, I keep fucking up, I’m sorry. Just—“

“God! Just nothing , you.. you..” Louis falters. It’s the first time Harry has ever seen him lost for words. “You absolute alpha!” He finishes. 

Harry’s looking at him in confusion, and silently begs for an explanation. 

“Everything, just everything has to revolve around you, doesn’t it? I can’t just be angry! I’m not allowed to feel hurt, betrayed, embarrassed? I’m not allowed time to heal and recover from the humiliation of having the one alpha I thought was different basically call me a slut just as I was about to get on my knees for him? I can’t have even just a moment to myself because you,  oh high and mighty alpha king, you tell me that you’re ready to talk, right? So since you’re ready to talk that means I have to be ready!” Louis screams

Harry feels his whole body begin to shut down at the very revelation. He isn’t sure how to describe what Louis was feeling. How he made Louis feel. 

“Louis, I’m sorry. I feel so fucking awful,” He tries

“Oh so how you made me feel just a few days ago? Get a grip” He practically snarls, “Don’t you see, Harry? in the few weeks that I’ve known you intimately you fucked up you fucked up and you fucked up and you fucked up. Can you see how I am hesitant to pursue anything? Why the thought of us together is literally the furthest thing in my mind right now?” 

Harry can see his window of opportunity slowly slipping away. He knows, in this moment, that Louis is the farthest from him than he’s ever been. 

“Louis, I know that you’re upset. But please help me fix this. I know I can be better for you,” Harry begs. In the moment, Harry can forget how pathetic he looks, how completely un-alpha it is to plead this case. 

“I thought you were different than they were,” Louis whispers, wilting forward as if the truth of his pain weighed too heavy for his body to carry.. 

It’s quieter than anything he’s said the whole ride, yet it rings deafeningly in Harry’s ear. 

I thought you were different. 

Harry wants to scream “I am ! I am different!” But he stops himself. Is he really? Has he proven to Louis that he’s any different than the alpha on the cover of the airport magazine ? The alphas that made Louis cry all those weeks ago? 

“I understand how I have messed up and I don’t deserve a chance but please just give it to me. Give me the chance to show you that this could work— that I want this and I’ll do anything to show you that you can feel the same about me. It’ll take time, but I promise it will happen. You’ll see, you’ll see it I swear to you,” He tries pathetically. 

Louis is still strapped in the back seat of the car, and Harry wishes for nothing more than to climb into the back of the car and grab ahold of the omegas hand. To squeeze it, and hold a part of him while he declares his truth. 

“That’s the thing though, you don’t realize that I already felt the same way. I had the same faith that this would be different, even after everything that I’ve been through. I had already developed intimate, deep feelings for you, but then you turned out to be the very type of alpha I want to escape. Look at where we are every single one of your choices has been centered around how you feel and never once have you considered or even tried to consider how I may feel.” 

Harry looks away from Louis for the first time to conceal the wretched shame that spun in the pit of his gut. It’s nauseating, the way Louis speaks with such finality— like there’s no hope for them.

“Please, I’ll be better,” Harry says, unable to return eye contact.

He misses Louis shaking his head, “I’m not asking for an apology,” he says softly. His voice is raspy and exhausted, like he had used all his energy shouting just moments before. 

Harry looks up to him finally out of desperation, “Then what are you asking for? Name anything and it’s yours. I will work down to my bare bones if that’s what it takes to prove to you that all I want, all I’ll ever want will be you. I’ll give you everything that I have, even if you don’t need it.” The words come out of Harry’s mouth without the filter of forethought. And although he speaks quickly, he speaks his heart with impenetrable compassion. It’s new to Harry, go explore the beautiful hidden depth of emotions that he now knows he holds for Louis, but he knows deep down that he’s only scratched the surface— that, if Louis so permits, he’ll continue to discover just how hard he’ll work to keep the pure rush of adoration that he feels within just Louis’ proximity. 

Louis looks at Harry with a peculiar fascination. It’s news to him, Harry realizes, just how serious Harry’s words are. Louis sits there for a moment, and Harry assumes that it’s to seriously ponder his next response. It feels like hours, but Harry waits there patiently, eyes trained loyally on the omega. 

“And if it fails?” He asks faintly. There’s no trace of emotion on his face for Harry to build off of. Though his words seem open, Harry refuses to acknowledge this as a chance that Louis is opening back up to him. 

“It won’t,” Harry responds without hesitation. 

“If it does,” Louis persists. The ‘if’ is too easily replaceable with ‘when’ for Harry. 

Harry lets the thought wash over him. He sits to contemplate the thought of losing Louis for a second time, “Then I’ll spend every night remembering that I had my chance. And I’ll spend every moment savoring and remembering even the faintest of your smells. Of your passions. Of your quirks of your touches of your looks. I’ll spend the rest of my time on this earth surrounding myself with every thought of you.” 

Louis’ eyebrow twitches up faintly at Harry’s poetic promise. He seems unconvinced, “You’re so confident it will work.” To Harry, it sounds more like a question than a statement. 

“You’re not?” Harry asks. 

“I’m not without my faults Harry,” he admits sagely. 

Harry tries to shake his head no, as if to combat the idea, but Louis raises a hand to stop him. 

“I refuse to see any,” Harry finally says. 

“You’re idealizing me. I can see it now. I am only going to disappoint you in the end, when I don’t live up to these expectations. Look at us Harry, really try to look-- and think, not with your heart. Think with your brain, logically. Maybe we should just take this as a sign that we’re not meant to be. Just cut out losses before we really end up hurting ourselves.”

He’s slipping again, Harry can feel it. “I have my own faults, you’ve seen them yourself,” He tries to respond, “I am thinking perfectly logically,” 

“My faults are things I am not sure that I’m willing to fix, Harry. Who I am, what my priorities are can’t be fixed. And I’m sorry Harry, but I don’t know if my alpha is always going to be first in my life. My passions are my passion and as much as I could be married to you, I’ll always be married to what I love to do,” Louis says. 

Though he will not admit it in the moment, Harry’s heart stutters at the words ‘my alpha’ and ‘married to you.’ It’s enough to distract him momentarily and give Louis another breath. 

“Harry what you pulled-- using that voice on me? It’s not okay. I won’t apologize for my gender and how I responded, but that’s a part of the package deal. Although I can’t control my response to things like an alpha voice, I can control how I present myself. I just don’t think I can be that little omega I think you want me to be,” he says firmly. 

“Louis, first of all, I can never ask you to separate yourself from the very thing that makes you happy, for my own sake. Our relationship won’t be easy-- you’re a busy person, you’ve always got so much on your plate, but the very nature of a relationship is about taking risks. And Lou, I’m ready to risk it all with you.” 

Louis looks away when Harry finishes, like he’s trying to hide his reaction from the alpha, “Such brave words for an alpha,” He says finally. 

“Have faith in me, Lou. You’ll see it’s not just bravery.” 

Louis looks up at Harry for a minute, and Harry can see a hurricane of emotions hit landfall on the man’s delicate features. There’s grief saturated in the wrinkle of his brow, hesitancy brewing over his irises, and trepidation in the twitch of his nose. But when Harry looks down, he can see even the faintest marks of hope and faith fall over the man’s lips. 

“I’ve never done something like this,” Louis says finally. 

Harry is quite slow on the uptake, on the realization that this is Louis' concession to his persistence. Louis wasn’t openly admitting to trying again, perhaps it’s pride-- Louis’ other, unspoken ‘fault’-- that holds him back, but he is trying to give Harry a sliver of hope by admitting that he’s never been in a long term relationship before. 

Harry lets himself smile for the first in what feels like days, “Let me be your first,” He answers. 

Louis sighs, “You say everything like this is so easy for you. But I’m calculative, every single move, every single moment of my life is planned in writing before it happens. I need stability and I need to make sure that my alpha is included in the stability.” 

Harry does the one thing he’s been dying to do the whole time he’s turned to look at Louis; he grabs the omega’s hand and gives it a bone-crushing squeeze, “If you’re trying to convince me to walk away, please know that this is one thing you can’t talk yourself out of. I want this Louis, and if you want this too, just say the words and I’m yours. I’m already yours, but I’m waiting for you to be just as invested in this, too.” 

Louis doesn’t answer him, instead he takes Harry’s hand and tugs him, asking for the man to sit in the back seat of the car with him. Harry obliges by climbing over the center console, not even being cautious of the leather. Louis pulls him into a tight hug, and nuzzles his nose right on Harry’s scent. 

It’s heavenly, for the alpha, to watch Louis sink so quickly into his scent. He’s about to pull away from the hug to look into Louis’ eyes, when he feels the omega’s tongue on his skin, gently lapping at the spot. 

Despite the emotional toll that their conversation has had on Harry, it’s painfully erotic and if Louis doesn’t stop now Harry’s not sure if he’ll have the willpower to stop himself later on. When he’s about to pull away, Harry stops himself. 

He doesn't want to pull away. If anything, Harry’s sure that he wants everything that Louis is willing to give him. He thinks back to three days ago, when he stopped Louis then, and he realizes that he wanted Louis just as much that day too. That the only thing that had stopped him was his stupid mental mantra of wanting to make sure that Louis knows that he wants a serious relationship. But now, looking back at the undeniably heartfelt declaration of love that Harry had delivered, wasn’t it obvious. 

So if Louis knows how serious Harry is. And Harry knows how serious Louis is. What’s stopping him but himself? There is a monsoon of warm relief that washes over him in that instant, when he realizes he can healthily give into his natural desire-- Louis. 

Instead of pushing the smaller man away, he raises his hand to cup just the back of his neck and squeeze, pushing Louis’ face further into Harry’s neck. He gets to work scenting the omega, washing him in his scent and allowing Louis to suckle on his neck. Without meaning to, he applies a light pressure to his fingertips, just grazing where Louis’ mating mark should one day be. 

The man in his arms gasps and melts impossibly further into his grip until Harry can smell the rich scent of caramel and the tangy bite of a crisp apple. It brings Harry back to the morning at the airport when he had realized that Louis was in heat-- the way the smell of the man’s pre-heat and the faintest whiff of his slick made Harry want to go berserk. Now, Harry was closer than ever before. He could put his hand down the waist of Louis’ pants right now and feel it if he wanted to. And oh, did he want to. 

He pulls back to dip Louis’ head back, pulling him into a gentle kiss. “My flower,” He says gently, pecking kisses to Louis’ cheekbones. 

Louis’ eyes are fluttering, like he’s already in Elysium from the alpha’s touch alone. Harry chuckles and gives Louis a gentle shake, “Lou, is this okay with you? What we’re about to do,” he asks. 

Louis furrows his brow, like it was a question he wasn’t prepared to hear, “Mmm,” he hums, “yes,” he finally consents.

Harry pulls Louis up directly into his lap, and begins to kiss down his neck, “What a sweet, sweet omega,” He whispers. He moves his hand down from Louis’ neck from his back, laying his back down on the seat, “I can already smell you, baby. Just delicious. But then again, I’ve always been able to smell you, haven’t I?” 

Louis looks up at him from the seat with the laziest of smiles, “Have you?” He asks. 

Harry nods his head. He raises his hands to span over the exposed skin of Louis’ belly, uncovered by the ridden up material of his shirt. “Especially when you’re close to your heat,” He whispers, pausing over the little bulge by his waist. If he thinks hard enough, he can imagine what Louis would look like with a bigger belly, filled with a baby. The thought of having Louis like that, mating him, getting to call Louis his omega-- it’s driving him mad already. 

Louis looks down at Harry with a mischievous smirk, like he can read exactly where the alpha’s mind is going, and the way he tries to shake himself out of it once he’s been caught. 

“Drove me crazy driving you to the airport like that,” he whispers. He leans down, a difficult task to complete in the confinement of the car, and kisses just above Louis’ belly button. 

“Mm, I’m sorry alpha, I won’t do it again. Promise. ” Louis whispers. His voice is dripping with promiscuous intention. He’s fully aware of what his words will do to Harry. 

Alpha. The word hangs in the air of their car for a heavy second, and Harry takes his time soaking it up. Louis is recognizing him as his alpha, and although it’s not made permanent by an accompanying mark on the omega’s neck, it feels right.  

Harry looks up and scans the back window for any signs of people. It’s still early in the day for late risers to be mulling about such a quiet street, and the early risers are already off to work. It’s a nearly silent residential area to begin with, and it’s secluded enough that Harry is instinctually comfortable enough to continue without risk of a dangerous interruption. 

Harry moves his hand down Louis’ body to unbutton his trousers. It’s a silent action, but Harry keeps his eyes locked with the omega’s while he pulls each leg out of the soft material.

“ Omega ,” He breathes out, “You’re breathtaking,” He takes a good minute to look Louis’ body over one he makes quick work of removing Louis’ top. His skin, so soft and warms, calls to Harry to touch it, and he’s all too happy to oblige. 

Louis moves his legs to wrap around Harry’s waist, dragging him closer and closer to his smaller frame, “Yours,” He whispers when Harry is just inches away from touching their chests together, “Your omega,” 

It jars Harry from his rapid forming tunnel vision, and begs him to recognize the weight of what Louis was saying. He nods after a while, “ My omega,” He parrots. 

Louis’ head tips back when Harry answers him, and his face fills with earthly satisfaction. Harry takes the time to undress himself, making sure that parts of their skin are touching at every chance. Just as he’s ready, Harry touches a hand right between Louis’ legs and looks up, asking silently for permission to continue.

Without straining his neck, Louis gives a gentle nod, and Harry pushes two digits in. He watches Louis’ face scrunch quickly at the foriegn intrusion, but slowly, his body relaxes the muscles so that the alpha in front of him may continue. 

Harry feels like he can smell Louis even stronger now that he has two fingers inside. He’s getting lost inside the moment as he fingers him open, desperate to make Louis comfortable and ready for his knot. Below him, Louis’ lips gently part as soon as Harry brushes against the slightly rigged spot inside-- as soon as he feels it, more slick being produced from inside the omega, he knows he’s ready.  With his hands on Louis’ hips, he lines himself up between the man’s legs. 

As if making it a show, he raises one finger to his lips and licks off the gathered slick. Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the tip of his tongue met his finger, but what he surely wasn’t expecting was the way his knees nearly buckled, turning weak at the action. 

Louis was a marvel, something that Harry couldn’t believe was real, yet here he is, right below him and ready for Harry to take. 

“The most delicate and divine creation,” Harry says slowly, “Claim me as yours.” 

Louis’ eyes are struggling to stay open as they watch Harry’s lips shine with his sticky slick. He answers Harry with a resounding whine, but it’s not enough for the alpha. Instead, Harry puts his spare finger against Louis’ mouth and smears the remaining slick between his lips. 

“Claim me, omega,” He demands again. Louis parts his sticky lips, “ My alpha,” He breathes. 

Harry has a satisfied smirk across his lips when he bends down. Louis’ claim strokes his wildy ravenous alpha. He seals the claim with a kiss to his lips, carefully cleaning the omega of the slick as he slides himself between his legs. 

When he pushes in, Louis’ eyes immediately jump open and his mouth falls slack, in a silent gasp. “Oh-- god, ” the omega finally gasps out. 

Harry puts a delicate hand on his cheek and with his thumb, he begins to stroke the bone, “shh, shh, omega. Do you want me to stop?” He asks, fully ready to pull out if need be.

Louis scrunches up his brow, “You better fucking not,” He grits out. It’s enough to get a chuckle out of Harry while still assuring the safety of the man below him. 

The air in the car begins to collect a sheen of steam on the car windows when Harry finally begins to move his hips in a steady rhythm, “So fucking good for me, my delicate flower,” He praises with his hand still firm on his cheek, “Look at my beautiful boy,” he coos. 

Louis looks to preen under the attention and glow, but Harry begins to pick up the pace of his hips, limiting him to the sound of tiny, “uh, uh, uhs,”  

Louis wraps his hands around the seatbelt as if trying to get a better grip, to give him some kind of leverage, but Harry quickly moves his hand to the omega’s throat and gently squeezes. No, Louis would not be trying to gain any leverage here. 

Louis lets out a choked garble, and for a second Harry’s worried that he’s gone too far, but Louis moves his hand over Harry’s and begins to stroke lovingly on the alpha’s wrist-- it pleases him to watch his omega give so easily into his body. 

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry teases, “At your caliber, I didn’t know you could be such an amazing… subordinate.”

Louis’ eyes look like they’re struggling to focus, but he does manage out a breathless moan before he’s biting back with just as much seduction, “Well, sir, ” He says, “I guess I’m just made to impress.” 

Harry has to stop his hips from stuttering at Louis’ quip. It was meant to be a joke, but something about it stirs Harry so deep inside that he files it away for later use. 

Harry can feel Louis begin to edge. His whole body has turned a flushed pink color and his whines are getting louder and louder by the second. He lets go of Louis’ neck to reach down and grab his prick and stroke him to climax. Harry’s movements are short and quick as Louis begins to squirm and arch under him, signaling his close orgasm. 

As it happens, Harry is thankful for the fact that the BMW is fully tinted from the back because he knows if anybody else were to see Louis, the way he sees him right now, Harry would have to kill them. The way the omega below him looks so vulnerable and exhaustingly spent when he comes, is something Harry wants immortalized in his memory forever, and it’s enough to bring him to his own finish. Gathering the boy in his arms to sit him on his bare lap, Harry jerks his hips one last time before his knot locks firmly into place. 

With Louis laying his head on Harry’s shoulder, Harry takes the opportunity to stroke the omega’s back. 

“Flower, you did so so well,” he praises, planting a kiss gently on his nose. 

He can see the smile begin to ghost over Louis’ lips, “Thank you,” he whispers. 

Harry pecks his cheek, “Thank you,” he answers back. 

Harry notices how floaty and spacey Louis gets after sex, the way his eyes gloss over and he struggles to form sentences more than three words long. The paradox to his usual fiery attitude is well welcomed. Shortly after, Harry wonders how long it lasts, how long before Louis begins to recover post-orgasm. 

“You could have had this three days ago.” Harry hears coming from his side.

Well, there is his answer. 

～♕～ 

When Harry is able to remove himself from the omega, Louis follows Harry to the front of his car and returns to his spot in the passenger's seat. It’s a pleasant change, and it comforts Harry’s alpha to have him so close. 

“You’re going to smell like me when you go into the office,” Harry mentions offhand. Their trip has been quiet thus far, just them soaking in each other’s presence after their three day long self-inflicted separation. 

Louis nods, “And?” he asks. 

“Well,” Harry says, “What are you going to say?” 

Louis thinks about it, “Hmm. I guess I can’t say that my alpha just railed me in the back of my car, huh.” 

Ah, so the ‘my alpha’ wasn’t just a sex thing. 

Harry chuckles shakes his head, “No you cannot. Think of something else.” 

“Hmm, and I guess I can’t say that I just got completely destroyed by the very man that gave them three days of added stress because I decided to have an emotional breakdown during the most important week leading up to one of the biggest launches of my career,” he muses. 

“I would rather you didn’t,” Harry offers, trying to stay light hearted. 

Louis reaches over and squeezes his hand, “Well, what do you want me to say?” He asks. 

Harry thinks about it for a minute. It’s a thoughtful request that Harry hadn’t really contemplated. How would they come out as a couple-- to the world and to Louis’ office. Would there be backlash? Would there be judgement? Louis can’t even change his hairstyle without somebody noticing, let alone a serious boyfriend. 

By Louis flipping the script on Harry, he is answering this very question-- what do you want? What does Harry, the one person who has to choose to stay in or outside of the public eye, want? 

It’s not an easy question to answer. He sees how they rip Louis apart, would they do that to him, too? To his family. Their first public outing would most likely be Louis’ launch, and no. Harry can already see it, all interviews just focusing on their relationship, where they are, what their future holds-- nothing to do with Louis’ greatest accomplishment, his brand. 

Harry sighs for a moment, the thought of keeping them a secret is daunting. He would show Louis off every chance he got, but he also knew that Louis’ passion-- his job would always be a top priority. 

“I think you should say that your alpha took care of you, and nothing more,” He answers. 

Harry reads a sense of disappointment in the flash of Louis’ eyes, but a mutual respect and understanding for his response. He knows the life he lives is not for everybody, and that Harry is entitled to want to keep a shred of privacy. He almost looks disappointed until Harry clears his throat.

“And then,” Harry amends, “When things die down, my flower, together we’ll tell the world all about our love. And I’ll properly court you as my omega.”