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In the heart of Yorkshire, where the winter unexpectedly covers the towns with a blanket of snow, the air is filled with the spirit of Christmas. The streets shimmer with the seasonal magic, with bells jingling and all that stuff.
Soft flakes drift gently from the sky, turning the landscape into a scene straight out of a Christmas carol. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine that mingles perfectly with the aromas of festive cooking and the bustling sounds of residents hurrying through their last-minute preparations before the celebrations begin.
Approaching a cosy home tucked away on the city's outskirts, it's impossible not to sense the warmth emanating from within, perfectly mirroring the sentiment of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" (though it’s undoubtedly Christmastime already!). The inviting glow unveils a scene that could be lifted straight from a Hallmark holiday film — a picture of joy and togetherness.
Inside, the halls are truly decked with boughs of holly, adorned with twinkling lights that dance in rhythm to the seasonal tunes playing softly in the background. A majestic Christmas tree stands tall, decorated with vintage bubbles, hand-made ornaments and glittery knickknacks from around the world. The family gathered within exudes contentment, sharing laughter, reminiscing, playing games, and eagerly awaiting the first star to appear in the sky. It is, indeed, the most wonderful time of the year.
For everyone but one Louis Tomlinson.
It was supposed to be a damn idyllic family time, with his ever-growing clan. His husband of ten years, the grandparents — Jen and Lenny, married for half a century, the whole sister gang (plus Ernest!), the blokes — Lewis, Ryan, and Jack, and the little rascal Lucky. Oh, and let's not forget Phoebe's princess, the little angel Cassie. No professional obligations for over a month, no stupid pap-walks, no eye-roll-inducing meetings. And for once, no responsibility for this blond Californian kid, who's finally allowed to spend the most family-packed holiday with his loved ones, not in freezing Yorkshire.
So there they are, all crammed together like a bunch of sardines in Louis' grandparents' house, and Louis wouldn't change it for the world - well, at least not up until just now.
*
The Tomlinson-Styles arrived at Doncaster three days ago, trying to prep for Louis' upcoming 32nd birthday and the whole Christmas bash. Harry's been playing house with Jen, swapping recipes like they're oddly friendly MasterChef contestants. Two days in, Lucky tumbled through the door, followed by the rest of the circus — Lewis and Lottie, who's still flashing that damn engagement ring, and Daisy&Ryan, stuck to each other at the hip like glue. Bloody hell. Ryan's a decent bloke, but Louis can't shake off the overprotective older brother mode with him. Then there were Phee, Cassie, and the red-headed troublemakers of Doris and Ernie, brought in by Jack just yesterday. And as soon as that door closed shut behind their backs, it was like Christmas exploded in the house.
Louis' 32nd birthday party on the 24th went astonishingly festive. Even though it's not some big round number, cause frankly - turning 32? No big deal. But Harry, out of the tour and free from dealing with any annoying stunt or riding a lime bike, decided he's got nothing better to do. So he'd thrown himself into organizing a perfect birthday for Louis - magic everywhere and surprises galore. Louis' usually the one in charge of surprises, but he must admit: his husband did a marvelous job and yesterday he had the time of his life. And even the precious Cassie didn't manage to steal his thunder, though the kid's got him wrapped around her tiny finger. Cute as a button, just like her mum, aunties, and Jay. God, they all miss her. Especially on days like these, but they feel her presence, her protection. Home feels good.
And then, after all that glitter and sparkles — everything went to shit, seriously.
*
No ominous signs heralded the impending catastrophe. After a blissful night's sleep — yes, even the little terrors played nice and snoozed for a decent 8 hours — the dawn broke on a snowy, Christmas day.
The Tomlinson-Styles kicked off the hectic day by attacking their friends and relatives with spirited Christmas greetings. Well, to be precise, the festive phone calls followed a delightful, lingering snogging session. Their daily ritual gained an extra edge of arousal and excitement from the thrill of keeping it furtive in a house bustling with activity. The group video call with The Boys became a merry carnival of toasts, each one celebrating their latest achievements — Louis' array of awards, Niall's victorious stint on The Voice and The Show's triumph, Zayn's creative Mixoloshe gig, and the imminent release of both Zayn and Liam's new music. Between the mad banter, the long overdue group call concluded with a collective commitment to meet-up in January for a proper catch-up and jam session.
The FaceTime rendezvous with Harry's family took a considerably shorter time, as Gemma was excitedly compelling Anne and Michal onto an ice-skating escapade. They were just about to glide onto the rink, so farewells were hastily exchanged. With wishes for a safe and enjoyable time thrown into their phones, the connection was promptly cut short.
After a simple breakfast, Louis, Phoebe, and the younger twins threw themselves into creative activities, dealing with Lucky's bustling energy — drawing, crafting more Christmas trinkets, and organising an epic snow brawl in the backyard. Oh, and of course, they had the occasional duty of keeping an eye on Cassie.
Meanwhile, the four Tomlinson siblings’ partners took charge, shepherding Granny and the granddaughters out of the kitchen. With their newfound control, they may have left the kitchen looking like the aftermath of a hurricane, but somehow, all the planned dishes were prepared to perfection. Along the way, there happened to be a few unexpected moments — most notably, Lewis challenging Harry to a singing duel. Needless to say, it was a showstopper, and Lucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched his dad perform an improvised guitar solo on a frying pan, as if he’d just witnessed an early Christmas miracle.
With this turn of events, Charlotte rounded up the grandparents for a brisk city stroll, while Daisy barricaded herself in the attic, battling the avalanche of still-unpacked presents from various family members. It's a classic Tommo move, to procrastinate such mundane chores until the last minute — so bless her organizational prowess. Let's face it, they're all indebted to her till the end of times!
*****
With the family expanding year after year, the annual gift-buying frenzy eventually turned into a logistical nightmare. It’s not about financial strain — Harry and Louis can easily afford anything anyone desires, and the rest of the Tomlinson clan is far from struggling. The real struggle lies in an absolute avalanche of people to cater to, each deserving to feel cherished and thought of. So, for a few Christmases now, they've adopted the sanity-preserving Secret Santa swap strategy, with the following rules applying: Each Santa draws name slips from three distinct pools: a bought gift, a self-crafted creation, and a heartfelt Christmas card. Phoebe’s ingenious idea was an instant hit, and this year, even the nine-year-old Deakin twins proudly declared they were old enough to join in.
Initially sceptical about his crafting abilities, Louis wasn't too keen on this part of his holiday duties. However, after a couple of years, it became his favourite assignment. A significant influence contributing to this newfound passion was undoubtedly Harry's absurdly infectious enthusiasm and child-like delight in getting his hands dirty. There's something about seeing his husband gleefully engaged in such activities that warms Louis' heart, making it one of his greatest pleasures.
So, when three weeks ago he lucked out with finally drawing Harry from the "hand-made-gift" pool, Louis wholeheartedly committed to making it worthy of his husband — an expression of gratitude for the eternal happiness Harry brings into his life each day.
In addition to this crafting challenge, Louis also faced the task of purchasing a gift for his soon-to-be brother-in-law Lewis and composing heartfelt wishes for Phoebe. The latter left him quietly marvelling at the surreal reality that his little sister produced her own teeny-tiny human being. Mind-blowing!
*****
In the middle of the hustle of various Christmas activities, Ernie proposed a film interlude, which received eager approval from Doris and Lucky. After a heated debate among the twins, they settled on "Inside Out" for their movie session.
Amused by the characters on screen, Doris playfully whispered into Phoebe's ear, "I think Louis is the Anger of our family." Her laughter bubbled as the red character flared up again. "He looks funny like that when he gets angry!"
Phoebe joined the merriment. "He does, doesn't he? And he's quite short as well!"
"Oi, you two! I can hear ya!"
"Okay, so who are the other emotions?" Phoebe teased, running her fingers through Lucky's soft, blonde locks as the boy remained engrossed in the vibrant characters on the screen.
"Harry's Fear!" Ernie declared with a chuckle. "He's tall, and remember his shrieks when I put the frog in his shoe on Lottie's birthday?"
"Yeah, and Lottie's Disgust, obviously! And maybe Lewis is Sadness? I don't know who can be Sadness, truly; we're all happy, right?" Doris pondered, her brow furrowed.
"Yeah, among us, I believe Lew suits the blue character best," Phoebe admitted. "So who's Joy, then?"
"I am Joy, clearly, you misfits," Louis interjected, finally brushing off his siblings' accusations of his short temper. Unsurprisingly, the room erupted in unrestrained laughter at his remark.
After some light banter and illustrative impressions, the twins crowned Daisy the Joy of the Tomlinson clan, much to Phoebe's mock dismay. Louis couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction.
*****
This year was the first time in forever that Louis could fully dive into the Christmas fever. The European leg of the tour concluded triumphantly in the third week of November, with a sold-out O2 industry shit-show and a stellar fan-fest in Birmingham that left him buzzing (despite the disappointment of a missed last meet-and-greet). The Rolling Stone's Award performance was a knockout, even with the unfortunate substitution of Michael and Isaac by two random session guitarists and dodgy audio. Yet, with Steve, Matt, and Zak having his back, it turned out to be a blast. And then, there was Harry at the afterparty... Oh, well, shush... It was a secret, right? So when December came, Louis found himself with an abundance of time to conjure up the most fookin epic presents ever.
Starting with the easiest one, Louis consulted his stylist, Helene, and snagged a Prada leather baseball cap for the snapback-freak Lewis. Simple, yet undeniably effective.
Moving along, for the love of his life, Louis undertook the challenge of mastering the art of... knitting. His impulsive husband had shaved his head to dodge another ridiculous stunt agenda his management insisted on, only to start whining about the cold as soon as the hair clipper stopped buzzing. Louis, ever the considerate partner (and the hilarious one in their duo), took it upon himself to keep this beautiful head of his warm, and knit him a hat. But not your average cap or beanie, mind you, Harry already had a stash of those. Despite Louis' questionable crafting skills, he poured his heart into creating a hat that would let his husband roam the streets incognito. More like a mask, really. It's warm, covers the entire face, and sports the most-Harry shade of green. Oh, it also may or may not, have the tentacles? Yes, it's essentially a Cthulhu hat. Because why the hell not?
Phoebe's Christmas wishes took the form of a poem... That may also be a song, should anyone ask. And not just any song - a kind of lullaby, you know, for a young mother wanting to soothe her baby girl... Louis recorded it in their home studio and sent it to Phoebs at the exact moment she opened and read his card, but never actually got a chance to learn her reaction, because of how the events unfolded after that.
*
So... You wonder what actually happened?
In the middle of the Christmas celebration, with everyone gorging on the delicious, collectively crafted feast, Jen brought up the considerate suggestion: why not secure the gifts from Lucky and Doris rocking around the tree - by distributing and opening them right then and there? The younger twins, unable to contain their excitement any longer, promptly abandoned all pretences of restraint they kept during the meal. With infectious joy, they delved into the bags, eagerly shaking parcels and unveiling the treasures within. They checked the tags, handed out the gifts, and Lucky, still in his clumsy phase and wearing an elf hat, eagerly joined in the chaos as their tiny helper.
For Louis, witnessing his loved ones so joyful was deeply heartwarming. Amongst the gifts that quickened his heartbeat and brought a tear to his eye, was Harry's pastry decorating set from Doris, just because it made his husband's eyes twinkle in pure delight. Then, Lottie received a veil from their grandmother — a beautiful, ethereal piece once belonging to Jay, now modernised for her wedding. There was also the football-themed Christmas card from Jack to Ryan, full of puns, which kept the two of them giggling. They might not fully understand the greatness of Donny Rovers, but Louis didn’t mind — they're both good for his little sisters, after all.
As Lucky careened toward him with the first gift of the evening, Louis, nestled under Harry's arm on the cosy nook of the sofa, felt a surge of warmth. He effortlessly scooped up the little boy, laughter bubbling from his mouth as he landed in Louis' lap.
"All right, champ, what treasures have you got for your favourite uncle, huh? An envelope? Must be wishes, then? Oh, from Pops! Give your great-grandpa a big, sloppy smooch from me, will ya, Lucky?" Louis flashed a warm smile and sent his nephew on a mission to the elderly man on the other side of the table, giving his nappied bum a playful pat.
Much to his surprise, the contents of the envelope weren't heartfelt handwritten wishes but rather a voucher. A coupon for a one-on-one drama workshop with... Whoa, one of the most renowned British actors. Louis hadn't expected someone of such calibre to offer private masterclasses. While it was sweet of his grandfather to dig this up, Louis couldn't help but wonder why the old man deemed it the most fitting gift for his first-born grandson. Not that he was about to kick up a fuss. Perhaps, for the old guy, the idea of meeting a silver-screen star was still more mind-boggling than for Louis, who had become somewhat blase after 13 years of daily celebrity encounters.
He flashed the voucher at Harry. "Did you know he's offering private lessons now? Is his acting career taking a nosedive? Wasn't he rumoured to be snagging the part in the latest Bond?" Louis whispered, shoving it back into the envelope.
"I don't know, Boo. You know I'm not big on action flicks. He certainly hasn't been starring in any rom-coms for years now!" Harry chuckled, running his buzz-cut head over Louis' temple. A true kitten, this one...
The gift giveaway raged on, filled with bursts of laughter, carol singing, and cooing over the meticulously crafted gifts and cards. Lewis and Jack remained glued to their phones, incessantly recording every precious moment with their partners and kids. The atmosphere was full of joy and celebration. Throughout the whirlwind, Ernie quietly snuck over and sat down at Louis' feet, his strawberry blonde head nestled under his older brother's arm.
"Psst, Lou... Got your Christmas wishes!" the boy whispered, slipping another envelope into his hands, earning himself a playful ear rub.
"Cheers, lad!" Louis boomed, tearing the outer paper and examining the hand-made card. The image portrayed a festive Christmas kitchen, adorned with a wreath at the door, colourful lights hanging from the ceiling, and every available surface covered with mouth-watering dishes. A poultry roast basked in the glow of a lit-up oven. "Nice job, little bro, I can practically smell the Christmas on this card!" he teased, eliciting giggles from his brother.
Inside, a few lines of carefully calligraphed text (quite an impressive scrawl for a 9-year-old) greeted him. A quick glance at their structure made Louis realise it was a limerick. Impressive, indeed!
"Madly in love with Harry, Louis did plan
A fancy dish with mozzarella and ham.
Parmesan though? Fans in a fuss,
Larry Stylinson they discuss,
"Obviously," he sighed, "it's just a chicken, ma'am."
All the best for Christmas, Boobear!"
"THE FOOK?"
In an instant, all eyes in the room fixated on Louis, and a sudden hush fell, the only sound being Cassie's peaceful gurgling, blissfully oblivious to the uproar.
"Loulou, language!" his grandma scolded, shielding Lucky's ears as she rocked him gently on her knee. Ernie, having sidestepped from his brother to Harry's side, couldn't contain his hysterical chuckles, sprawled out on the floor.
"Sorry, Nan! Ernie... Very funny, lad, hilarious... Hahaha," Louis deadpanned, his cheeks tinged with an embarrassed pink. "You little scamp..."
"It's a masterpiece, innit?" Ernie burst with pride, taking a deep breath, and... "Madly in love..."
"Don't you dare!"
"Oh, come on! Now we're all ears! Pray, continue, Ernie!" Lottie's eyes flitted between her brothers, an amused twinkle playing in them.
Louis growled and buried his head under his husband's arm, covering his ears, but Harry's chest trembled with laughter, and his hands couldn't really block his family's amused shrieks after Ernie insolently finished his declamation. It was so embarrassing.
"You're a little shit... How do you even know about this fookin circus, huh? Aren't you too wee to browse the internet?" Louis murmured to his brother, making sure his grandparents were out of earshot. They all came back to swapping gifts, and Harry's arms were coddling him tightly, easing his frustration.
Soo... Yes, Louis made a fool of himself. Even though it was his management's schtick. But they've made it an ultimatum - it's been either bringing up Larry or doing another stunt, and he had made up his mind about avoiding stunts at all costs ages ago. And while he adores their Larries for supporting Harry and him discretely, just being there in the peripherals... But for once he could have used ANY bait or an unequivocal comment. He's been singing "I love him" at every concert now, and Harry's "Where Do Broken Hearts Go", and he's been fookin loud, and, like out of spite, this evening no one said ANYTHING that could have been related to them. For bloody 40 minutes, he's been browsing their replies, with Harry parading in front of him in only a pair of black, skimpy knickers and Louis' new custom-made Neill Barret mesh bomber jacket, looking so bloody hot... So when Louis saw the chicken... It was obvious they were talking about CSWMWIPHWASOHM, right? He didn't even finish reading the short tweet - just copied what they told him to say, adapting to the context, and called it a night. Well, started the night with his outworldly sexy husband. So yeah, he made an ass of himself. But it was worth it.
The thing is - their fandom saw right through the farce and didn't give a shit about it. Some memes were even half-funny. For a day. The rags and the general public drawled it for a fookin two weeks till it became unbearably infuriating... But finally, it was over. Why did his brother bring it up almost two months after? Well, perhaps because he's 9 years old. Seems like a proper explanation.
"C'mon Lou, it IS good! And proper funny!" Ernie whined, glueing himself to Harry's long back, petting his regrowing hair. "And the chicken in the oven is dope!"
"Yeah, sure. Cheers, lad." Louis took a long swig of mulled wine, using it as a lifeline to maintain his composure. What a nuisance his brother is...
Following that, Harry unveiled the most extravagant card they had ever laid eyes on: adorned with golden leaves and delicate gemstones, inscribed with luxurious, emerald ink in Lotties' impeccable handwriting (because, let's be honest, would you really expect anything less from her?). Of course, she didn't miss the chance to proudly disclose the card's origin – none other than the bloody Abu Dhabi. Yet, transcending the outward flirtation with kitsch, the words she penned were profoundly touching. Louis found himself tad too emotional, on the verge of tears at the sheer warmth conveyed through his sister's affectionate greetings.
"Hey, Santa's little helpers, hurry up with the gifts, chop chop!" Jen exclaimed cheerfully, coming back from the kitchen in her lilac frilly apron, and blowing over a spoonful of cranberry sauce. "I put the main in the oven to heat up, so we've got 15 minutes till the food is served! What's left under the tree?"
Doris efficiently doled out the final couple of presents, including Louis' poem-song for Phoebs and his own mysterious gift. Louis eyed the square-shaped flat package, wrapped in luxurious blue-and-silver silky paper, noting a conspicuous thickening along one edge. His instinct suggested a spiral-spined notebook, but given it was supposed to be the handmade one, perhaps it was made into an album? The attached small tag revealed Daisy as the giver- and Louis had a flashback to their last gathering in Doncaster where the girls sifted through a box of family photos.
Disregarding the pricey paper and stealing glances at Phoebe's reaction in between, Louis tore into the wrapping unceremoniously, indeed revealing the spiral notebook, backside up. Harry, clinging to Louis' back, with a chin nestled on his shoulder, chimed in with a soft "Yay, a scrapbook!"
Despite the growing chorus of admiring sights and squeals from the older twins engrossed in Louis' lyrical greetings for his sister, the rushing blood in his ears drowned out the ambient sounds when he flipped over the little notebook. The first thing to catch his eye was another unmistakable fucking golden chicken roast. Then, the glittery title: "Cluck-Ups and Feathery Fails: 20 Chicken Recipes for Dummies," complete with an "editor's" note: "Full of Cheesy Meltdowns and Culinary ConunDRUMSticks."
It should come as no surprise that Louis lost it.
*
"Lou, love, please come back downstairs. They're just teasing; you know it's all in good fun. They all adore you! The Tommo way? Love..." Harry mumbles, circling around his husband in their designated bedroom, Louis hastily packs his duffel bag, tossing things inside with wild abandon. A palpable tension fills the air, only interrupted by the faint strains of festive music seeping in from downstairs. When Louis turns to the wardrobe for the last pieces of his attire, Harry is already there, arms open, an adorable pout, and puppy eyes on full display. "Hey, c'mere! I'll kiss it better!"
"This is fookin infuriating, Haz! You know it was a forced choice to avoid another ridiculous stunt! I made a fool of meself, but it was for us, and I'd do it a thousand times more, again and again. They're clueless about how painfully bloody difficult it is!" Louis punctuates his tirade by repeatedly punching the backseat of an armchair in the corner of their tiny room. His voice wavers, taking on a shaky note, and he looks like he could start bawling at any moment. "Take me home, please... Can we go back to London? I just wanna be home with you..."
Harry quickly closes the distance, and Louis, a bit reluctantly, allows himself to be enveloped in his husband's arms. "Louis, love of my life, listen to me. No one here wants to hurt you, right? The adults are just teasing, Ernie is just Jay's son through and through. Cheeky little shit."
Harry's soft murmurs are accompanied by fervent kisses peppering Louis' face and neck, tender fingers raking through the soft, caramel mane that's slowly getting out of hand. Harry curls his fingers, giving a slight tug on the hair, creating a tension on Louis' scalp that feels just right.
Louis breathes out a sigh of relief as Harry's gentle touch begins to work its magic, fingers dancing gracefully across his back and ribcage. The teasing banter fades into the background, the atmosphere shifting into something more intimate.
"I'll ask them to easy on the teasing, 'kay...?" Louis' body responds to Harry's ministrations and his whisper. The graze of teeth on his earlobe sends shivers down Louis' spine, and the soft flesh succumbs to the warmth of Harry's lips, drawing forth involuntary whimpers.
Harry's promise hangs in the air. "Keep your temper, be a good boy for the rest of the evening," he murmurs between whispered breaths. The words linger, laced with a suggestion that quickens Louis' pulse. "And I can grant you three Christmas wishes." It's a declaration that sets Louis' imagination ablaze, each word heavy with anticipation. With a final squeeze to Louis' hip and a delicate kiss on his nose, Harry concludes, "Like a wanton yuletide genie..." Louis gasps, his palms instinctively clenching the silk of Harry's blouse.
"Harry, please..."
"Are you gonna be good, Louis?" The teasing sternness of the question sends an electrifying shiver down his spine, raising goosebumps on his skin. This dynamic isn't their usual, but in this moment, with the frustration he's been feeling, Louis finds it strangely grounding, a welcomed release from responsibility.
"Can I... Can you grant one in advance? Just... just to help me focus?" he pleads, bargaining for a reprieve.
Harry's expression softens, his eyes glinting with amusement. Hooking his finger on the waistband of Louis' slacks, he giggles and draws closer to the bed. "Focus, you say... Let's see if you can keep your focus..."
*
Later, well after the gluttony of their dinner, when the beef Wellington is taken back to the pantry (thank god, Louis was dreading the relentless return of the chicken!), the living room basks in the soft glow of Christmas lights. The atmosphere is languid, filled with laughter and conversation harmonizing with the crackling fireplace. The room is wrapped in a comforting embrace, aromatised with scents of mulled wine, hot cocoa, and gingerbread cookies.
Content with their familial warmth, three generations of Tomlinsons&co engage in conversation, play, and savour the simple joy of being together. To divert the spotlight away from Louis, the discussions meander through various topics, but the one that amuses him the most is Harry's latest distinction — being voted the Biggest Babygirl by Grindr users. Even after a decade, it still strikes Louis how, even with a shaven head, his husband manages to exude an enchanting doll-like charm. Clad in silks and fluffy socks, adorned with a pearl necklace and baby-pink nails, Harry remains breathtaking in his role as his babygirl.
After a brief intermission, Lottie reappears with another armload of present bags. Lucky's eyes light up with delight, not just because his mama has returned.
"Dori, Ernie, Lucky – I declare a bath time!" The youngest boy's joyful beam instantly transforms into a tearful pout. "No, no, no, baby, don't start crying! Look what mummy's brought. Festive pyjamas! Aaand... another set for daddy! It's the same, see? Aaand... one for me too!" While Charlotte compares their matching pajamas with Lucky, Lewis disperses the other bags among the remaining family members. Phoebe and Daisy revel in their partners' evident horror — this marks the first year they are graced with the honour of receiving the official Tomlinson matching pyjamas set.
Louis takes the bag from his brother-in-law and hands it over to his husband, both of them watching the young lads attempting to evade donning corny matching outfits. "Chop, chop, Harold. Set an example!"
"Think I can wear the outfit I found under our Christmas tree instead?" Harry murmurs lowly, only for Louis to hear. "I very much prefer the black lace and ribbon to the plaid cotton..."
For the last couple of hours (after focusing really closely on being really quiet in a house full of his family), Louis' been on his best behaviour. No temper tantrums, no biting responses to chicken provocations — he's become the embodiment of Christmas joy and merriment. Harry, on the other hand, has taken it upon himself to tease and incite Louis at every turn. Stripping off his Christmas cardigan, he leaves little to the imagination with his sheer silk blouse that rides up with every gesticulation, revealing a tantalizing strip of tan tummy just above his pelvic bones. He revels in inserting innuendos every other sentence, showcasing his exceptional wordplay skills. Countless touches, suggestive gestures, and lingering looks — Louis is ablaze, eagerly anticipating the moment they can finally call it a night. The urgency to witness his husband in the skimpy harness and lace panties set has reached a fever pitch.
"Hazza, Boo - upstairs now and change into PJs!" Lottie slips into her no-objection-mummy mode, a striking resemblance to Jay. "I need to put this little one to bed! He insists on staying awake, but he'll hit the hay any minute now. Come on, be good uncles!"
"Harry's on his way, right Harold?" Louis squeezes his husband's knee and plants a quick kiss on his temple. "I am NOT putting this on. It's even more hideous than last year! I swear to God, Lots, where do you buy those things?" Harry, prompted by the statement, gets up and takes a few steps toward the stairs.
Charlotte buries her face in her hands, then leans over him, tugging at his arm. "Louuuu... Please, cooperate for once! A couple of nice family photos, and you'll be dismissed! No one but us gonna see them anyway, you know I know the drill. Please...?" And here Louis' been thinking she had outgrown her whiney phase...
Harry's voice, barely audible, emerges from behind Lottie, echoing the same austerity as earlier in their bedroom. "Lou, please cooperate." Louis tilts his head, shooting him a glare. Maintaining a straight, almost bored expression, Harry places his tongue in his cheek, one hand loosely fisted by his plush, pink lips. The gesture is fleeting, lasting only a fraction of a second, but the intensity of the hot flush washing over Louis leaves him momentarily weak.
"Coming," he mutters under his breath, face downturned, hidden beneath his fringe. "Be right back, Lots."
"Thanks, Harry," she glances briefly in his direction, visibly relieved, oblivious to his persuasive tactics. Lucky, who stumbles out of the living room and into her arms, prompts a radiant smile. "Hi, gorgeous baby! Everyone, hurry up! Photo time!"
*
Aligning 14 people for a photo proves to be a challenging and exasperating task. Jen inadvertently closes her eyes, Jack stifles a yawn, and Ernie mischievously gives Louis bunny ears with his fingers. A sneeze disrupts the moment, and someone's smile appears a bit too toothy. The only undisturbed soul is Cassie, peacefully sleeping swaddled in Phoebe's arms. On the sidelines, Ryan confesses to Louis that, in addition to utilizing all the sisters' smartphones to shoot pictures and record some videos, he's also set up his own to film the entire commotion and plans to edit a blooper montage later. Good lad, that's the spirit!
Once the thousand photos, encompassing both large group shots and various smaller formations (including the iconic Tomlinson sibling take, destined to circulate among the One Direction fandom despite Louis not being in it), had been captured, Lewis and Jack usher the youngest members of the clan upstairs. Meanwhile, the remaining party reconvene in the parlour, replenishing their chosen beverages. The conversation meanders around the prospect of eating up the plum pudding and mince pies, and a comfortable peace settles over the family.
On the plush carpet sprawled in front of the crackling fireplace, Ernie and Doris enthusiastically showcase their haul of gifts to Jen. Lottie and Phoebe snuggle close on the floor, absorbed in Lenny's reminiscing about their mum. Louis, sitting at his husband's feet, half-listens while absorbing the warmth emanating from the dancing flames.
Last but certainly not least, Harry engages in conversation with Daisy and Ryan about their upcoming New Year's Eve plans. Simultaneously, his deft fingers card through Louis' hair, treating him to a soothing scalp massage with rhythmic, circular motions. Louis wouldn't change it for anything in the world. This is pure perfection.
As Jack descends the stairs, baby monitor in hand, he heads straight to the kitchen, generously offering yet another round of warm, aromatic beverages. The collective response is an eager and unanimous acceptance.
In the commotion of exchange of tumblers and cups, Harry leans in over Louis, planting a featherlight kiss on the tender spot right behind his ear. The rhythmic motion of his fingers through Louis' hair continues, pleasingly verging on overstimulation. In a hushed murmur, he professes, "Love you, Lou. My very good boy. Can't wait to have you all to myself..." The words create a delightful shiver that courses through Louis' entire body.
With an equally soft response, Louis whispers, "Love you. Just a few more minutes, love..."
As Harry returns to the discussion about New Year's travels, Louis redirects his attention to his sisters. Earlier, Phoebe had shed real tears over the song, and Louis caught her humming the simple tune to Cassie during the impromptu photoshoot. It was a thank you to him that words could never express. Her natural affinity with kids, evident in the way she's been engaging with the younger twins and Lucky, is remarkable. Meanwhile, Daisy plays with Lottie's hair, both still giggling at their pop's anecdotes. At this moment, they look like carefree teenagers again, momentarily shedding the roles of the strong, independent women they've become.
Jen rises from her spot by the fire and sits in the middle of the sofa, gracefully settling between Harry and her husband. She shoots Louis an apologetic smile as she steps over him. "Alright, Boo?"
The simple question is laced with genuine affection and concern, and though Louis isn't entirely certain about what she's inquiring about, all he can feel is pure happiness. The only fitting response is, "Chuffed. Good day." After exchanging another warm smile with her, he continues, "And you? What did you get? Spill all the details!"
In the brief litany of praises showered upon the thoughtful and beautiful gifts the grandparents received from their grandchildren, Lenny leans in and embraces his wife, planting a peck on her cheek. Louis can't help but once again notice the evident love and gentleness they share even after all these years - it's been truly enviable and inspiring.
"Lou, did you end up liking your presents?" the older man asks, his wide grin hiding behind his wife, earning him a pointed glare from his grandson.
"Well, I'm just thrilled to be here with all of you. I appreciate the effort they've put into crafting those gifts. It's obvious they've poured a lot of time and thought into them." Louis opts for a diplomatic response, navigating the awkward situation. "Although I've got to admit, I'm quite relieved you didn't join this circus, pops! No plans to kickstart a movie career anytime soon, but the workshop can be proper nice." He playfully nudges his grandfather's knee with his fist. "I quite liked him in that last movie... What was the title? Can't remember it for the fuck's sake..."
"Boo!" Jen interjects, not truly scornful, still wearing a smile.
"Sorry, Gran..." His apology lacks sincerity, and he grins back mischievously.
"When you mention the circus..."
"Oh, you know exactly what I mean. All the chicken drama. Can't escape it. That, and the Rolling Stone probing about this Harry's buzzcut..."
"Ha, funny you should mention that," Louis' grandpa chuckles lightly. "Because you see, I've been following your career for the last thirteen years, and considering the extensive media training you've had, it genuinely shocked me how rubbish you were at feigning surprise! Hence the voucher - to have a professional teach you some basic acting!" The elderly man beams proudly, still hiding behind his wife's frail frame.
Louis stiffens, eyes bulging in disbelief. For a few heartbeats, he's left utterly speechless, his face oscillating between shades of red, a tumultuous mix of anger and embarrassment. Finally, with a deep breath, he erupts, "HAROLD! WE ARE LEAVING!"
Between the confused family, Harry attempting to calm his agitated husband and Lenny chuckling as if possessed, Doris clutches Phoebe's hand and deadpans into her ear, "I've been telling you he's the Anger. Without a shadow of a doubt." She sighs contentedly, "I love Christmas."
Phoebe hugs her closely, planting a kiss on the top of her red hair. "Me too, little sister. Me too."