The Brother I Never Wanted (Larry AU)

Chapter 14

Saturday doesn't come soon enough for Louis' liking. Things have gotten better between Harry and him, but he wouldn't call their 'relationship'...well, a relationship at all. They just kind of coexist and deal with it, and the two boys hardly even talk despite the fact that they live under the same roof. It's kind of really pathetic how their only interaction will be an awkward eye-lock, or if he's feeling frisky, a tiny head nod. But it's a lot less pathetic than hating each other and he'll take that. And his dad finally seems content with their new family, and Louis would sooner throw himself off a cliff than purposefully hurt his dad. He doesn't mind getting along with him if his father is happy.

And since things have finally kind of simmered down, and Louis has finally stopped complaining about Harry every fleeting second, Niall thought it'd be a brilliant idea to have a lads' night out on the town. Although the chick flick that Niall picked out at their local cinema that makes him feel like he's actually producing estrogen doesn't exactly exude manliness.

To be honest, Louis only agreed to come for the popcorn. Because movie popcorn is the s**t.

Niall blows his nose obnoxiously into a tissue he apparently came prepped with, the hanky stuffed in his jean pocket, and Louis genuinely questions the meaning of their friendship right then. Even in the dark, he can see the pink puffiness around his shining eyes that tells him he's not entirely faking it either. "Why did she leave him?" He wails quietly. "They were so perfect for each other!"

"I genuinely hate you right now. You make me embarrassed to be in the same building as you."

"Oh, hush," Niall breathes. "I saw you shed a tear or two. Besides, those girls up there are totally checking us out...I call dibs on the blonde." Louis punches him in the arm, hissing at him to shut the f**k up, but he just leans further over the chairs in front of them, breathing over some poor guy's popcorn without his knowledge. Dear Lord. He's got a child for a best friend, he swears. "It's times like these when being bisexual is f*****g fantastic. I can check out your hot stepbrother and hit on gorgeous moviegoers."

Louis feels his hackles rose slightly when Harry is mentioned, hands tightening on the arm rest. It's weird. They're not even related, but Louis has this strangely powerful primitive instinct to pull Niall limb from limb if he even breathes the same air as his stepbrother. It's also kind of frightening, he'd say. He's never been a violent person, but Harry fires him up for reasons he wishes he understood. "You will not touch him," he growls lowly, poking his chest harshly with his finger.

"That sounds like a threat," Niall laughs, popping kernels into his mouth.

"It is."

His face twists. "Well, fuck."

Louis frowns, snatching the bucket of buttery goodness harshly from his hands. "And I f*****g paid for this too. But you already ate like all of it."

The couple in front of them give them dirty looks, shushing them obnoxiously. Louis gives them the finger when they look away. At least they had the decency to sit in the back. The small device in his pocket vibrates silently against his thigh, drawing his irritation to his phone instead. He plucks it from his pocket carefully, turning the brightness all the way down, and opens up the new message.

Louieeeee

What the hell? Who the f**k texts him from an unknown number at ten f*****g thirty at night and calls him 'Louieeeee'? He doesn't even have friends! He knows it's not Niall. His attention is entirely too focused on the wedding taking place on screen. He swears he hears Niall hiss, "f**k, yes. Get together already dammit."

It's official. He's getting a new best friend.

Who the hell are you and why is your number blocked?

I'm offended, Lou. I would've guessed you'd have my number in your phone by now. What if it's an emergency?

Louis sighs in distaste.

What do you want, Harry?

He exits out of his messages and makes sure to put Harry's number in his contacts as 'The d**k'. Because Harry's just naturally so good at being one. It's very fitting, he thinks.

Oh sweet Lou

Glorious nice smart sexy Lou

Stop buttering me up, Styles. Just spit it out already.

Yeah here's the thing...I need a ride.

Shocker. Only Harry would do this to him.

Ever heard of a taxi? It's a really great innovation actually. Maybe you should try it sometime. Or oh here's a thought. Take the bus

Wtf no. Public transportation is disgusting

Louis scrunches his nose, chewing on the straw of his drink absentmindedly. It already has marks from his teeth. That's how much Harry stresses him out. Where could he possibly be where he's needing a ride home at this late at night?

Suddenly it dawns at him. Harry's at a party or a pub or something. He has to be drunk or likewise, otherwise he wouldn't be calling Louis for help.

Where are you?

Is that a yes?

Answer my question first and maybe I'll think about it

A hot puff of air hits his ear and he jumps like a startled cat, nearly chucking his drink at the seat in front of him. "Niall, I swear to God. If you don't remove your lips from my ear, I will cut them off and sew them to your arse."

"Who are you texting?" He asks ignorantly.

"David Guetta."

Niall's face lights up. "Really? Can I meet him?"

"It's Harry."

His face doesn't change. In fact, his lips curl into a deep smirk that makes Louis' chest vibrate in a silent hiss. He knows Niall's just playing, but Louis' about to disown him and he doesn't think he should be pushing his luck. He stands up next to Louis, brushing popcorn off his jeans and sucking the butter off his fingers. It takes him a little while to figure out that the lights are on, and nearly everyone has already left. Oh thank god. It's over. He grabs his trash and jogs after Niall's figure, tossing it on his way out the door.

His mobile lights up again.

Um I'm at toxic I think

You think? I'm not driving all the way across town to pick you up if you don't even know where you are

No it's toxic

Louis feels like ripping his eyeballs out. That's a good thirty minute drive from here. And to some f*****g new dance club too. That's just bloody great.

He goes to tell him to just f**k off and call a taxi, but then his phone buzzes again.

You owe me remember?

Shit.

Fine. But if you're drunk and stripping on a table, I'm turning right back around.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Louis gives Niall an apologetic look. "Sorry, Ni. I've got to go pick up my i***t stepbrother. He's drunk at some club downtown."

"Toxic?"

"That's the one."

"s**t, yes! Can I come?" Niall screeches, drawing a few looks. "I've always wanted to go there! I heard they had lights in their f*****g cups!"

"Definitely not."

Niall pouts childishly. "Aw, why not?"

"I don't feel like babysitting two people tonight," he deadpans, already starting to drift away to his car. Niall crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out at him. "And I'm definitely not staying longer than to drag his drunk arse to the car."

"You suck."

"I'll remember that next time you need to borrow money." He puts quotation marks with his fingers around the word 'borrow'. Niall's face contorts in mock fear, and Louis laughs, running down the parking lot before Niall can chase after him, no doubt going to be making grabby hands at his wallet.

He unlocks his car, sliding into the front seat. The gas light flashes brightly at him as he turns the key, and he groans loudly, knocking his forehead on the steering wheel. Life hates him, he swears. He checks his phone quickly before shoving it in the glovebox.

Why turn around when you could enjoy the show? ;)

Yup. Definitely drunk. This is going to be fantastic. He can already feel the migraine throbbing under his temples.

Louis whips out from his spot by the theater, honking at Niall who is at his car and receiving a middle finger in response. A small giggle leaves his lips, hand flying out to tweak with the radio. It's a long arse drive so he better make the most of it. He knows he's going to wish he had savored this quiet.

He pulls into a gas station briefly to fill up his car and buy a twenty ounce Pepsi because he feels like he'll pass out if he drives another minute. Not feeling the edge kick in quite yet, he rests in his seat, propping his feet on the dashboard. Let him wait. He's not in any hurry. And even though two minutes isn't nearly enough time, it's enough to feel some of the caffeine surge through his veins, and he pulls back onto the highway.

Twenty minutes later, he's cruising down the streets of the next city over, thankful that's it's surprisingly deserted. He would've thrown a hissy fit if Harry forced him to drive through traffic to get here, and he will wish he had taken the bloody bus home. But it looks like Harry got lucky. Today.

The bright lights of the club are burning the back of his corneas before he even sees the building. He grabs his extra large pop, taking another swig and weighing the drink in his hand. Nope. Not enough. He should've bought another one. Once his car is turned off, the bass of the club fills the air, reverberating in his lungs. He doesn't see how people think this is fun.

He snatches his keys from the ignition with a spent sigh, taking one last sip of his soda before entering what looks like the gates of Hell. As soon as the door is pushed open, he's pummeled with scents that make him want to retch up all that popcorn he just ate, and there's so many people he feels claustrophobic. This is ridiculous. Why would these people voluntarily come here? It's honestly disgusting. He's ninety percent sure he stepped in some vomit.

The further in he gets, the more he begins to question whether this was such a good idea. There are some people who are staring at him like he's the last chicken wing as he passes, and a hand definitely grazes his bum on purpose. Louis shudders in disgust and quickens his pace. How is he even supposed to find Harry in a place like this? There's so many bodies, he can't see a f*****g thing. He contemplates just heading back towards the entrance and texting him to tell him to meet him outside, but then the crowd parts slightly and he sees the back of what looks like Harry's head. And, shockingly enough, he's not stripping on a table.

"Harry!" He tries to call out to him, his voice straining with all its might to be heard. But it's barely audible even to his own ringing ears. Elbowing some teenagers out of the way, he presses closer. "For f**k's sake. Move!"

"Harry!"

The boy finally turns around at his last shout, curls a frizzy, sweaty mess and emerald eyes rimmed with pink. An unsteady grin breaks out across his face, gaze darting up and down his body quickly. This might be the first time Harry actually doesn't seem all that gorgeous. "Glad you could make it," he slurs loudly as Louis squeezes through the last line of people. And now he's uncomfortably close to him, his breath smelling strongly of booze and possibly cigarettes - he doesn't know. He just wants out.

In his panic of frenzied annoyance, he almost didn't recognize the young girl hanging off of his arm. She looked like she could be pretty, but Louis has to squint.

"Yeah, well," he spits. "Can't have my little brother wandering the streets alone, now can I?"

Harry smirks, lips flushed a slick red color, peeling the girl from his bicep and stepping into his space. Louis takes a large step back. It appears as if he attempts to follow, but his long legs tangle and he stumbles instead, knocking into some other person, but he doesn't even seem to feel it.

"Damn, you're wasted."

"It's no fun to be only half-wasted," he supplies blankly. And sure, why not? Why come all the way out here to get tipsy?

"You're a hell of a lot of work, you know that?"

He feels fingers hook into the back of his shirt, and he panics at first, flailing a little because he doesn't want to get kidnapped. But when he looks behind him, he sees that the hand is connected to Harry, and he seems to be using him for stability or direction more than anything else - telling him silently to lead the way out.

"What?" Louis asks, walking forwards. "You don't want to pick up a few f***s on the way out? I thought that'd be your thing."

"I want sleep."

"Well, so did I. But I'm here picking up your sorry arse instead." He thinks he hears Harry mumble a soft, "sorry." But he might be mistaken. It's too f*****g loud to even feel himself think in here. "Why are you even here? It's not safe to come to a place like this alone."

"I wasn't alone," Harry defends automatically. "I came with Zayn and Liam."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "And where are they now? They ditched you, and you don't even care?" Harry shrugs indifferently.

Not long after that, Louis spots the entrance to the club, feeling the crowd thin, and he exhales in relief. But that satisfaction is cut short when he feels a large hand slap across his bum. He yelps, jerking to a stop so that Harry staffers into him. His stepbrother's nose smashes into the back of his skull, and he pulls away, sniffing violently. There's no blood, but Harry's eyes flash as he touches the tender skin and he turns towards the guy who smacked his bum. He suddenly doesn't look so drunk anymore. The fist by his side clenches and then it's in the air, cleanly hitting the guy's jaw so that his eyes roll backwards and he tumbles backwards, people behind him squirming to catch him so he doesn't land on them.

"Harry! What the hell?"

His fingers tug on the material of his shirt, steering him quickly towards the entrance instead so he's dragging Louis behind him as the yelling gets louder where they left the crowd. s**t. Harry could probably get arrested for that. What the f**k was he thinking?

Harry pulls him outside, staggering into the cool air. He releases him as soon as they get to the sidewalk and brings his hands up to rub his temples. "Take me home," he demands.

"Did I hear a please?"

"Please."

Louis feels pretty triumphant after that. He unlocks his car and watches Harry climb in ungracefully. His knuckles are swelling when he puts a hand on the dashboard to steady himself, and Louis wonders if maybe he should pick up some Tylenol on the way home. He might be ignorant to the pain right now, but he'll definitely feel it in the morning and be bitchy about it. Leaning in his seat, Louis twists to reach into the back seat and grab an old bag off the floor. He really needs to clean it out someday. Harry's hot breath ruffles the small hairs at the back of his neck.

Louis thrusts it at Harry. "If you throw up, do me a favor and do it in the bag."

He grabs it off his lap, swallowing. His head goes back against the headrest and his eyes close like he's struggling already. "Okay." Is it strange that Harry seems to actually be easier to deal with when he's drunk? Louis thinks it is.

Time seems to fly quicker than he thought it would, Harry staring at his large cup a majority of the time. Once he actually grabs it and takes a sip from it, but Louis' too tired to care. "You know, that pop could've been like a month old." He almost never cleans his car. It very well could be that old. The only thing that gives away that it's recent is the condensation gathering on the outside. Not to mention, the carbonation could upset his stomach and have him hurling up its contents, but thankfully he doesn't. And before he knows it, they're pulling up their driveway, headlights clicking off and engulfing them in darkness.

Louis prods his near sleeping stepbrother's shoulders. "Do you need any help getting inside?"

The lanky boy yawns, stretching out in the small confines of his car. There's not much room for someone of his stature. His green eyes are bleary, dipping down dangerously, but he doesn't look drunk anymore. "No," he groans quietly, tossing his door open to get out. Louis quickly climbs out after him, fumbling to keep up so that he makes sure he doesn't trip and wipe out on the cement.

The house is eerily silent when they enter, the clock ticking quietly. Floorboards creak under their footsteps, Harry not even bothering to be courteous to their parents when he pries the heel of his shoe off his foot with his toes and chucks them to the floor. Louis wonders if his mum even knows that he was out getting drunk tonight, or if he now has some kind of blackmail over him. He's kind of praying for the second one. You never know when you might need it.

Louis trails him to his room, only planning to stay long enough to see him crawl into bed. "You good?" Harry nods, face-planting into his pillow, causing Louis to snort softly. "I think I like you better drunk. You don't talk back as much."

He vaguely remembers Niall saying one time that people reveal their true identities when they're drunk because they don't filter their words or feelings. He doesn't know if it's true or not, but he'd like to think he could tame Harry enough to get him like this all the time. That would be nice. His step brother doesn't say anything in response though, back rising and falling steadily. Figuring he fell asleep already, he turns off the light and grabs the doorknob, starting to close the door behind him.

"Thank you."

Louis starts a little, peeking his head back inside. There's something very genuine about his tone of voice despite the fact that his eyes are closed, and he'll definitely take it. "You're welcome." He goes for the door only to hesitate again. "Hey, um, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," he mumbles, soft looking lips barely moving to form the words as they flutter across the pillow.

"Why exactly do you hate me?" Louis figures he should ask now. When Harry is intoxicated and not in his right mind. That way he knows he's getting a straightforward answer and not some stiff lie or indifferent answer. He really wants to know. Because as far as he knows, he doesn't remember doing anything wrong. The response is immediate, stunning him.

"I don't hate you."

"Oh. So what would you call it then?"

Harry doesn't even twitch. He's so still that Louis worries he's just talking in his sleep. "Hate would mean I have to know you and still dislike you. I don't know you well enough to hate you." So it's just a strong dislike. Great. Glad they could clear that up.

"I hate Zayn. I hate Liam. They're asses. I hate this town. I hate my new school. And I hate celery. But I don't hate you."

"Oh, uh. How flattering?" He's higher on his list than celery...Damn, he must be special.

"You're the one good thing, besides my mum."

That's when Louis feels a tingle in the pit of his stomach, heat flooding involuntarily to his face and turning his cheeks pink. He must still be drunk. He doesn't know what he's saying anymore. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Wait." Louis halts at the door. "Will you make me pancakes tomorrow?" That's so random. And dangerous. Clearly he has not seen Louis try to cook before.

"Uh . . . Sure. I guess." If he doesn't burn down the house first. "Why pancakes?"

"I like pancakes. Remind me of London."

"Okay, yeah. I can do that." There's a rustling and then it's silent. Louis assumes he's finally conked out and goes up to his room. Harry's not the only one who's going to need an aspirin in the morning. But he can't help but smile a little.

I don't hate you.