The Brother I Never Wanted (Larry AU)

Chapter 17

"Why the hell did your coach just call me and tell me that you got suspended from school? For a week?"

Louis flinches at the harsh tone of his step mum's voice, sliding his backpack off his shoulder to drop onto the wood floor with an unsettling guilty feeling clawing at his insides. He can see Harry in the kitchen from where he's standing, and he doesn't look like he has an ounce of remorse about telling her that he got suspended. The curly lad just leans back, putting one elbow on the counter behind him and meets her fiery gaze. Louis could never do that - play it off like it's no big deal.

His shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug, and his voice drops back to that slow drawl. "I punched some prick. I got suspended. It's pretty straightforward."

"He said that you sent the poor kid to the hospital, Harry! I thought I told you to get over this rebellious phase of yours! Hurting people is not funny - it's not even remotely acceptable. Under any circumstance. I thought I raised you better than this."

Harry picks at the bandage of his hand, some blood splattered across the white there, and his mum looks like she's about to lose her s**t upon seeing that. His emerald eyes dart up and meet Louis' down the hall as he stands frozen by the door, then they quickly flicker away as if he doesn't want to look at him. "I had a good reason. You know I wouldn't physically hurt someone like that if I didn't."

Anne presses her hand to her forehead. "There's never a good reason to do something like that, Harry! There's a reason we teach you kids to learn to talk things out before getting physical." She sighs. "I'm very disappointed in you."

Louis frowns at that, stepping between his dad - whom has pursed lips and a slightly red, angry face like he too expects much more from Harry - and the counter to reach the fridge. He sounds like a broken record, but his stepbrother really doesn't deserve any of this. If a bully was picking on Niall or someone else he loved - not that he thinks Harry loves him - he would not hesitate to assert some authority back, and if that meant decking them, well . . .

"It was justified, you've got to believe me!"

"I don't know what to believe anymore, young man. Your behavior has been atrocious lately."

Harry steps from the counter. "Whatever, mum. I'm not apologizing for what I did. That guy was an arse and deserved every single punch. You told me I should always stand up for what I believe in, so I did."

"That's it, mister. Give me your phone."

"What? Why?" He scoffs incredulously.

"Because this is a very serious situation, and I will not just simply ignore the fact that you put a kid in the hospital. No matter the reason, that was completely out of line. Clearly I need to start disciplining you better. And we will start with your technology. Therefore, give me phone. Now."

His eyes narrow in the makings of what looks like a harsh glare, but something in her expression makes him back off, and he slowly reaches into his pocket and hands it over.

"And your laptop."

"But, mum!"

"Harry."

"This is so stupid."

"This is your last warning, or I'm taking away your television privileges too. Get your laptop and put it in my room. You're not allowed to use it while you're suspended."

He rolls his eyes angrily, snorting and walking down the hallway to his room. To get his laptop, Louis' guessing. Louis looks down at his vans, staring for a little bit while his step mum complains to his dad about his behavior - his dad occasionally giving a small murmur of agreement.

*********

It's when the small clock by his bed flips to eleven that Louis rubs at his sleepy eyes and flings the sheets off his body. He swipes his glasses off the nightstand, stumbling to his closet to put some skinny jeans on and trying to fix his hair at the same time. The house is silent and dark - signaling that his parents are already in or on their way to bed, and his footsteps sound worryingly loud as he creaks down the stairs.

Louis opens the wooden door, following the crack of light slowly and steadily until his eyes adjust and he can see a lump on the bed. He has the incentive to predict that he's been laying there for a while since he's grounded from pretty much everything entertaining.

"Harry."

When he doesn't respond, he picks up a shoe on the floor and tosses it at him. It hits him square in the back, and he jerks awake. "What the hell?" He rolls over to face the door, rubbing his face and squinting at him. "Louis?"

"Get dressed."

Harry scoffs, dropping back onto his pillow. "Do you know what f*****g time it is? I'm not going anywhere."

"Not even to a party?"

His eye peeks back open. He props himself up on his elbow, sheets falling from his bare chest and pooling around his hip. "What are you talking about, Louis? I'm grounded, remember? I can't go to a bloody party."

"Do you always listen to your parents?"

A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, and he slides out of his bed, nearly blinding Louis in the process. His eyes immediately turn to the ceiling, and he can feel his face turning red. "Jesus, Harry. Put some bloody clothes on."

"Why? You have something against going all natural? It's nothing you won't see at some point. I always sleep naked. You're bound to see it a few more times."

Louis keeps his eyes glued to the pattern of the ceiling, trying to ignore the sounds of him fumbling around in his closet. He fiddles with his fingers nervously and sucks in his bottom lip, chewing on it. There's the sound of a zipper, and only then does Louis assume it's safe enough to look. Harry tilts his head, inserting his arms into his t-shirt.

"You've never snuck out before, have you?"

Is that obvious? It must be. "No."

Harry grins, grabbing his phone and slipping past him through the doorway. "Well, then you're in for the best night of your life." Louis has to jog to keep up with him, heart pumping a little faster as he looks up and realizes that they're right under their parent's bedroom. Honestly, no. He's going to be too paranoid to have any sort of fun, he can already tell. "What about that Niel guy or whatever? I thought you were going with him."

"Niall," Louis corrects sharply. "And he already knows about my plan to sneak you out. He's not expecting me until, like, eleven thirty."

He rubs his large hands together, smirk only getting deeper. "Damn, you had this all planned out, didn't you Shorty? I'm honored." Louis rolls his eyes, closing the front door behind him quietly. "What's the plan then?"

"We get in. We 'party' for an hour, two tops, and then we come home. Preferably before one because I have to go to school tomorrow."

Harry winks, climbing into the car so that his voice becomes muffled. "Don't worry your pretty little head. I'll have you back home before one."

But, of course, the very first thing Harry does when they arrive is bump Louis out of the way and rush to the alcohol. He fills a cup to the brim with beer and disappears into the living room somewhere. Louis just rolls his eyes, wandering in the opposite direction in search of that blonde quiff.

Louis makes an entire loop around the house, circling upstairs and then coming back down, only to end up at the exact same place he started. Only this time, he can make out his best mate in the kitchen, his obnoxiously loud laugh carrying through even the music to reach his ears, and Louis thinks that's pretty damn impressive because it's quite loud. He reeks of alcohol and his blonde hair is slightly sticky with sweat, but, overall, he doesn't look too pissed. His blue eyes light up upon seeing him, and his lips quirk.

"So goody-two-shoes showed up after all," he teases lightly, ruffling his hair - which Louis detests. "I was beginning to think you were going to chicken out." He sips at his drink. "Speaking of which, where's that stepbrother of yours? Did he ditch you for the dance floor?"

Louis sighs, sitting in the chair across from him and crossing his legs anxiously. "Yes."

"Aw, I'm sorry Lou." Niall leans in a little closer, whispering into his ear. "We'll get you a new girlfriend."

"Shut up," he laughs.

Niall tilts the bottle in his hand, eyebrows raising in an offer for a sip, but Louis just waves him off. If he's going to a high school party, he's going to stay sober. He's already seen some things he wishes he could un-see, and he really doesn't want himself to make the same idiotic choices. Plus, he doesn't want to die in class tomorrow.

"There's some pop in the fridge, I believe."

"Thanks."

Louis grabs a can of soda from the fridge and sits back down.

"How did your parents take the whole suspension thing? You said he got in trouble, right?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "He got both his phone and his laptop taken away, and he's on house arrest till his suspension is over. I feel so bad. It's all my fault. He was just standing up for me, and he took all the heat for it."

"He probably would've said something if he felt like he shouldn't be blamed for it. What did you tell your parents about what happened? You didn't tell them about the bullying, did you?"

"Harry just said something about sticking up for what he believes in, I don't know. His mum didn't buy it."

Niall chugs down the rest of his bottle, shrugging. It must be those Irish genes inside him that allows him to just inhale alcohol like that. He lets out a short burp, setting it down with a clank and grins. "You wouldn't happen to want to dance, would you?" Shaking his shoulders obnoxiously, he shimmies closer, and Louis pulls a face.

"Definitely not with you. I have a reputation to maintain, and I don't want to be known as the boy who danced with, shudder, Niall Horan."

"Boo. You stink."

"I didn't take a shower today, okay? You don't have to take your anger out on my scent."

He cackles, clearly finding that much too funny with his drunken brain. It really wasn't funny at all but whatever. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm not dancing with you then."

It's about an hour that he spends in the kitchen with Niall, giggling back and forth stupidly, and Niall pounding back drink after drink when the door to the kitchen swings open, and one of their teammates, Jack, comes in with a look that's very hard to read. It looks somewhat like a mixture between amusement and disgruntlement. He weaves through the crowd and taps Louis on the shoulder. "Um, Louis, I think you should come here. Your brother is doing body shots in the living room. Maybe you should take him home before someone posts something online and gets him in even more trouble." His face contorts in sympathy, as if he feels for Louis about taking home his drunk stepbrother. Louis always knew he liked Jack.

Louis steps off the chair, eyebrows furrowing. "What the f**k are body shots?"

"Exactly what you think, mate."

He slaps a hand across his face, running it down slowly in exasperation. Oh, this is going to be something. He sighs. "Thanks, Jake. I promise I'll get him home." Jake smiles warmly, grabbing another cup of alcohol and disappearing down the hallway somewhere.

"Come with me," Louis demands, grabbing Niall's skinny wrist and dragging him along behind him before he can decline.

The sight that he comes upon is simply appalling. His stepbrother is perched on the coffee table, sitting shirtless on the edge with a lime wedge between his teeth. Eyes red and hair mangled, he looks more than a little tipsy, and there's a very basic looking, too much makeup wearing girl obscenely licking up his bare chest, stopping when she reaches his neck. Harry squirms under it and giggles, letting her dip her fingers under the waistband of his jeans.

Louis gapes for a second before realizing that she's pulling something out of his jeans and it's not his f*****g d**k. It's a small cup instead, filled with some kind of clear liquid that Louis assumes must be alcohol based on the way her face scrunches up and the people holler as she downs it.

Then Harry nods his head slightly, and she wastes no time in leaning forward - almost as if to kiss him - but she just grabs the lime with her own teeth and pulls back, sucking on it. People chant out hollers, signaling the completion of the body shot, and Harry just grins, pupils wide and head lulling as he resets for the next one, stuffing a cup into his jeans.

Louis huffs, dropping Niall's arm and elbowing people out of his way. "Harry, what the f**k are you doing?"

His head shoots up at the sound of his voice, lips pulling even higher on his face. "Body shots. They're so fun. She did a good job, don't you think? I remember my first body shot. It didn't end quite as well -"

"Harry, this is a horrible idea. You realize that everyone here has a phone, right?"

"So?"

"What if someone is recording all of this? What if someone posts it on twitter or face book and our coach sees it? Do you know how much trouble you'd be in if you got caught intoxicated - underage, at a party? You're already on thin ice. And your mum would f*****g kill you, we both know that."

Harry plucks his bottom lip with his thumb as if thinking about it. His green eyes are unclear and glazed though, suggesting that he's too drunk to process a word he just said. "You want me to go home?"

"Yes," Louis snaps impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll go get the car warmed up, if you want to stay a few minutes longer, but that's it. I'm not taking responsibility for you getting in trouble again. Especially if I can prevent it the second time. Now let's go."

Grinning, he sits up a little straighter. "Okay, I'll go."

"Thank fuck."

"But -" Louis freezes. "Only if you do something for me. It's only fair that I get to have a little fun before you take it away. And I'm doing this as blackmail because I know you'd say no otherwise, party pooper."

Louis' heart skips a beat, throat constricting in fear. The music seems to pound just a little bit louder and his head aches a little bit more. When you agree to do something a drunk person tells you to do, I think you should be more than a little worried. Who knows what he's going to make him do.

"What will I have to do?" He asks slowly, suspiciously.

Harry twists to reach behind him. His long fingers wrap around a cylinder container behind him, and he licks over his lips devilishly, handing it over. Louis looks at the label, and it reads: salt. What the hell is he supposed to do with this? He locks gazes with him, and Harry wiggles his eyebrows as if he enjoys seeming him squirm.

"Do a body shot."

All of Louis' fears are confirmed in that one sentence. His face flushes, cheeks warming to an unnatural temperature, and he feels lucky that they're in a dark room. Otherwise that would've been very embarrassing.

He wants Louis to do a body shot. Off of his f*****g body. In front of a good twenty people that are circled around them. Sure, most of them are pissed out of their mind, but what if there's that one person who's sober enough to remember everything that happened. He'd be known as the nerd who did an inappropriate body shot off of his step brother. Not to mention, Niall's watching, and he knows he'll never let him forget it.

"Harry, come on. This isn't funny. Take that bloody drink out of your pants so that we can just leave. You're going to have a nasty hangover tomorrow, and you're going to be cranky if you don't go to sleep. So, please. Let's just go home. There will be other parties."

He crosses his arms over his chest childishly, ignoring his plea to leave. "You're boring as fuck."

What the hell is wrong with him? He's drunk, but why does he want Louis to do a body shot? Like, what the hell? Wasn't that girl enough? What sick satisfaction would he get from seeing him do it. Louis winces, gazing at the salt. "Do I have to?"

His dimple deepens in a smirk, sensing his submission. "Yes."

Louis glances over his shoulder, meeting Niall's gaze. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he's got his arms raised like he's asking what the hell is going on. He looks about as confused as Louis feels, tapping the back of his wrist and gesturing in a way that tells him that they need to leave.

"I f*****g hate you," he tells Harry, pouring some salt into his hand and setting it back on the table behind him. Some of the watchers had lost interest on what was happening, but a couple of them shoot curious stares still. He swallows, closing his fist around the white grains.

Harry grins, placing his hands at his side and slightly behind so that's he's leaning away from him. "It'll be fun." Yeah, no it won't.

Louis takes that one shaky step closer to close the distance between them, and he licks his first finger, dragging it through the salt on his hand. Being this close, he can smell the alcohol on his breath and see the shine of his sweaty neck under the lights. It's weird, almost like he's not actually there - that it's not actually him doing this. Or even having the confidence to do this. He exhales and smears it on his neck, seeing it pulse and twitch under his touch.

As strange as it seems, it feels like it's the first time it clicks in his brain that Harry's a living, breathing person just like him - with warm flesh and blood. It just kind of hits home then, and suddenly he calms down a little. He no longer feels like he's trying to impress this perfect image of a person who will make fun of him. In fact, he doesn't feel much at all. Just the small bit of warmth that radiates from the body beneath him and the tickling of the breath from his nose on his neck. It feels nice too - a little cool breeze that sends goosebumps up his arms.

When the salt is finally applied, he leans back and looks at the trail on his neck, dusting his hands together to drop the rest onto the carpet. Harry raises an eyebrow expectantly, tilting his head to the side. Louis bites his lip.

"I don't know what to do."

He sighs loudly, shifting on his seat. "You lick the salt off, take the shot, and then grab the lime with your teeth and suck on it. The order doesn't really matter. I'll let you do whatever you want, but you have to do all three."

The noise around them gets a little louder, and Louis feels that flash of panic again at remembering that they have an audience.

Louis puffs out a breath, hands trembling as he moves to take a small, experimental lick of the salt. He still has cologne lingering on his clothing despite the overpowering stench of alcohol and salt. Harry's knee knocks into his thigh, and he moves around a little. It almost seems like he's trying to make this difficult for Louis, twitching away from him to make the process longer. This irritates him further because he'd really like this to just be over with.

He places a hand on the other side of his neck, so that when he licks again, his neck can't dance away again. He gets a little more confident after that second one, moving instead to a sucking lick with his lips, and it tastes really horrible. It's overbearing on his taste buds. But Harry rolls his head a little, lips parting, and that eggs him on further.

Louis must admit, it's not as bad as he thought it would be. With his face in the crook of his neck, he can almost pretend that no one else is watching. And his skin is very warm and soft, so it's not like he has to lick over warts or anything.

Harry makes a weird humming sound, hooking a finger into his belt loop and pulling on it to get his attention. He pulls off as soon as he feels that, looking into his dark eyes to await instruction. "You can do the shot now." His voice is gruff.

"I didn't get all the salt off."

"I know, it's okay." Louis frowns in confusion, but he's not going to complain so he takes a mini shuffle backwards. "Don't forget to use your teeth."

"Yeah, yeah," he grunts, sinking down to his knees so that his mouth is practically level with his crotch. It's such an odd position, and he feels so uncomfortable that he can so clearly see the bulge in his jeans, cheeks feeling warm again. Harry knocks his head back, eyes closed.

His fingers hesitate at the edge of his jeans, trying to find a spot where he can touch as little skin as possible and dipping his fingers in. He brushes against warm skin and boxers, stretching the denim a little so that he can get his teeth around the edge of the cup. After some tugging, he manages to get it to slip out, and he hears a cheer of profanities and laughter ripple out around them. Oh, God.

He gets back onto his feet, staring levelly between Harry's eyes and the liquid. Harry licks the middle of his rosy lip, a smirk slowly creeping onto them, and he nods to the cup. "Drink it."

Louis rolls his eyes and tips his head back, letting the liquid slide into his mouth. It burns as soon as it hits the back of his throat, and his lungs spasm, nearly making him cough it back up. It tastes like gasoline and nail polish, to put it simply, and he's never been happier that he doesn't drink.

When it's over though, he realizes with a relieved sigh that he's nearly done. Harry grabs a lime from the bowl at his hip, shaking out his curls before putting it flesh out and biting the rind. Louis makes the mistake of darting his gaze to the crowd around them and sees all the drunk faces whistling and raising their cups in praise when he looks at them, confidence faltering again. This was a bad idea, but I guess it's too late to back out now.

He inhales, reaching out a couple fingers to pull the citrus fruit from between his lips, but he's met with resistance. Harry's jaw doesn't move, teeth sinking further into the lime and eyebrows furrowing. His stepbrother smacks his hand away from his mouth, and he takes it out himself.

"What are you trying to pull here, Louis? You have to use your mouth." When Louis gives him a disbelieving look, he quickly adds, "Or you lose."

"Fine," he snaps.

The lime is placed back in his mouth, and Louis decides to just pounce on it, jerking to get their faces close together. But instead of biting the lime, he chickens out, breathing on his cheek before pulling away slightly again.

Harry, sensing his reluctance, huffs and purses his lips so that the lime is further from his face and easier for him to snatch. Louis decides that that's okay. It's better anyway. He thinks he can grab it if he just gets a little -

Suddenly the lime is gone from in front of him, Harry sucking it into his mouth and he stumbles forward. Their lips meet ungracefully, a pleasant shock running up his spine at the contact. And Louis just kind of freezes, body going stiff. A stiff, plastic like object hits his lips, and he opens them on instinct, still in complete shock as he worms the lime into Louis' mouth, letting his tongue slide against his bottom lip on the way out. And, f**k, Louis doesn't remember this part.

His stepbrother removes his lips with a pop, shooting him an easy, lopsided grin. Whereas, Louis feels like his heart is positively racing, blue eyes wide. Another wave of hollers runs through the ring of bystanders, and Louis' face flushes again, spitting the lime onto the table.

"Harry!"

"Oops," he giggles.

A flash of irritation stirs in his stomach, and he grabs Harry by his bicep, yanking him after him. Harry lets out a small noise of complaint but follows willingly.

Niall intersects him on the way to the door, dropping in next to him with a gaping mouth. His eyes flicker to the drunk boy he's hauling and back. "s**t, Louis. What the hell did you just do?" He couldn't have summed it up better himself. He doesn't have an answer either.

"I have no f*****g idea," he whines quietly. "Please just drop it."

He shoots him another look then moves to his other side, tossing Harry's arm around his neck so that they can haul him out the door when he starts drooping to the floor. Harry apparently doesn't let that stop him from reaching across Niall to grab onto a stranger. "I love you," he tells them frantically, and when they stare, he just moves onto the next one, hugging the girl this time. "I love you, man. Are we still up for glow bowling tomorrow?"

Louis yanks him off the poor girl, genuinely embarrassed like a mum dragging their kid through the store. "I'm so sorry."

The cool, spring air feels like a f*****g slap to the face when they step out of the stuffy, heated house, and Harry leans more of his weight into Louis' body. Louis has reason to believe he only has a few more minutes before he passes out on the grass. That boy must have a gut of iron because it's a miracle he's not throwing up his insides right now.

Together, they maneuver Harry into the back of Louis' car, Niall complaining about his weight and stretching while Louis straps his stepbrother in with the seatbelt. It goes in with a click, and Harry just rolls his head to look at him. "Why do I always have to take care of your drunk arse?"

Harry's eyes dip in exhaustion, and he just curls up against the seat, mumbling incoherent things under his breath.

"Bro, how are you going to sneak that past your mum?"

"It'll take a miracle," Louis agrees, praying to the Lord above that his mum is very asleep.

Sometime along the way home, Harry wakes up from his nap, seemingly more drunk than he was before he passed out. Which makes no sense at all, but who knows what alcohol does to your brain. And he rasps on the window loudly, making Louis cover his face with his hand and making Niall tear up in laughter as he orders three kids meals from McDonalds through the glass. They're not even stopped or near a McDonald's. That's the sad part.

"Your brother's awesome," he cackles, clutching his stomach. "I think he's way past drunk right now." He does have to admit he's a lot more entertaining when he's drunk. Stupider, but funnier.

Louis drops Niall off first, putting the car in park and staring warily into the backseat where Harry's throwing wrappers into the air and saying something about aluminum rain. "Are you sure you don't want to help me?" He adds an extra pleading look, but it doesn't work.

"Positive," he chirps, smirking as he shuts the passenger door and jogging up the stairs to his front door. Why hasn't he gotten that new best mate yet?

Some ten minutes later, they're swinging into their driveway, and Louis genuinely worries if his stepbrother has some brain damage. By the time Louis opens the back door, Harry's already unbuckled, and he pounces on him. His shoes dig into his sides and climb on his hip as he moves to attach to his back, nicely shaped thighs clinging to his side and ankles locking in front of his abdomen.

"Piggy back ride!"

Louis stumbles, nearly falling forward with a squeal. "Harry!" His hands move to grip under his knees, so that he doesn't slip off and dent his skull in, but he's not happy about it. He definitely doesn't like the muscle definition in his legs or his curls tickling his stubble. No, definitely not.

The house is thankfully dead silent when he opens the door, and Louis has to press a finger to his lips to remind Harry to be quiet. He giggles but seems to understand, not making a sound until they reach Harry's bedroom and Louis tries to pry him off his back. Then his face contorts in a serious expression and he clings on tighter, using his feet to push him away from the bed. His stepbrother nearly climbs over him to avoid it.

"What are you doing, Harry? Go to bed."

"No!"

"Stop squirming, Harry!"

His boot hits Louis in the stomach, and he loses it. He grabs Harry by his waist, fingers digging in and he hurls him off of his back and onto the bed with a growl. Luscious curls fan out around his head like a halo, pupils wide.

"Stay," Louis commands, moving to yank his shoes off his feet and tossing them on the floor. "There. Now go. To. Sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"It's one f*****g thirty in the morning, Harry. I'm tired. Just go to sleep. Some of us have to wake up tomorrow."

"There are ways you could tire me out."

He sends a cheeky grin to him from his spot on the bed, and Louis just raises an eyebrow. "What?" Harry laughs, rolling onto his stomach and sniffing his pillow.

"I swear to God, Harry. I'm going to just collapse right on top of you if I don't go to sleep."

"Bed's big enough for two."

And, okay. Surely he heard that wrong. "I'm sorry?" he asks incredulously.

The lanky boy kicks out his legs and arms to spread across the bed, fingertips not even touching the edges. "See?" he slurs. "Plenty of space."

Louis sighs, not caring whether he fell asleep on the bathroom floor at this point. And his bed certainly looks inviting after the night he's had. Plus, it's not that bad, right? Brothers can sleep together. It doesn't have to be weird. "Whatever. Scoot over." He waits for him to do so before slipping in himself, feeling fatigue wash over his limbs and tug at his brain. It smells like Harry's green apple shampoo and a muskier scent that is hard to describe as anything other than his stepbrother, but it's warm and it's plush, and it's almost comforting to have another presence beside you in the dark.

A light hum fills the air, and Louis blinks his eyes open momentarily to see Harry on his back, eyes to the ceiling as he sings softly to himself. His hands are folded neatly across his stomach and he tweaks his thumbs like he doesn't know he's being watched, but for someone drunk, he sings very well. And it's so soothing, he may or may not have fallen asleep to it. But Harry doesn't have to know he was listening.