Chapter Text
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The lights echoed a warm buzz as they dimmed with the setting sun. The atmosphere of the bar was welcoming; plush couches and worn stools all being made to use during these later hours of the evening. Behind the counter, a young man loosely wipes down a glass clean. He reaches for a bottle on his shelf and generously pours the liquid. With the glass in hand he slips out of the bar and makes his way towards a particular pair of patrons seated across each other.
Their voices held no ounce of restraint as they conversed, seemingly unaware of how much time had passed and how many patrons had left for them to be so engrossed. The barkeep only laughs to himself as he swiftly passes the blonde man of the two and places the drink beside the brunette.
The brunette looks over with a grin. While holding no mischievous intent, the holder held playfulness in his nature. He grabs the drink gratefully. “Thanks, Payne.”
Liam nods and brings his hands to his hips. “No problem, though I suggest you two slow down— unless you want to open shop with me tomorrow morning.”
“You sound like you don’t want us to keep you company! I thought we were your favorite patrons...” the blonde chimed in with a childish frown. “Is that why you got Tomlinson a refill and not me?”
“You haven’t even finished your drink yet, Horan. But who am I to stop you from using your tab.” Liam laughs before briskfully making his way back towards the bar.
Niall lets out a happy cheer before turning his attention back towards the man in front of him. “By the time Zayn arrives we might drain the pub clean.”
“Might as well!” Louis cheekily takes a swig from his glass. The gentle burn in his throat sends warmth down his spine. He represses the urge to continue and lets out a sigh once lowering his drink, toying with the rim as it balances on the arm of his chair. “The offer is far too tempting, but I’ll admit that I’ve been called on tomorrow.”
“Called on?”
“A meeting with Cowell.” He grimaces. “He wants to discuss the reconstruction of his most recent endeavor. Something about garnering a certain image.”
“An image of what?”
“That, my friend, I haven’t the slightest clue.”
Louis is well versed in the dealings of his fellow Viscount. Having inherited his title at such a young age, he was primed to blossom among his older peers. His commitment to his position benefitted his family’s standing amongst the ton and created an air of respect with his name. Simon was also well aware of this. From how often he made sure to cross paths with Louis one could only assume.
From the look on Niall’s face it seems he also reflected on that fact. The brunette decides to not delve deeper and sinks further into the cushion, placing his drink to the side. “His mooching will never end I suppose. Like a fattened leech.”
Niall lets out a choked cackle, a smile returning to his face. “By the end of the ‘meeting’ you’ll end up fairer than a sheer glove.”
“How scandalous, Niall.”
“Oh you know what I mean— you’d be wrung dry! Like a phantom in the night.”
“I’d probably weigh as much as one too. I’d fly off in the wind…” Louis lifts his arms into the air before flopping forward with an exaggerated sigh. “Get snagged in a tree…”
Niall chortled another laugh. “Maybe you’ll be spared after Cowell becomes engrossed by the new arrival.”
Louis peeks out, still committed to his collapsed form. “New arrival?”
“Have you not heard the news? We’re to have an addition to the ton.”
“Really? A new family is moving in?”
The blonde snickers while Louis finally straightens back up in his chair. “Well, they used to occupy the ton before establishing other land across England and I think France? Now the son is back from his travels to officially claim his title since his family’s moving.”
“Reclaiming a title when the head of his family is alive and well is rather odd.” He reflects.
“It’s no ordinary title.” Niall cheekily states. “He’ll be a Duke.”
“A Duke?”
“The Duke; Styles.”
Louis pauses for a moment. The man next in line for the Styles name… “The rake?”
“I don’t believe he’s a rake.” Nial tuts, looking off for a quick ponder.
The brunette shakes his head dismissively and picks up his glass. “Ohoho no, I’ve heard Whistledown’s reports. I’ve listened to the whispers.”
Niall quirks a brow. “I didn’t take you for a gossip, Louis.”
“It’s difficult to not know of the more scandalous affairs with six sisters lurking about. Though I do feel it should surprise me how much they hear. Even my brother is well informed.”
“I’ll make sure to not ramble in front of them again, wouldn’t want you to know of my gossip.”
The brunette scoffs. “As if you would withhold anything from me to begin with.”
A new voice enters above Niall, warmly familiar yet teasing in nature. “Your blabbering is a rather distinct trait, Horan.”
Louis lets out a chuckle as he looks up at the beautiful man looming over the chair while Niall turns his head with a playful scoff. “You finally decide to show face yet the first thing you do when you arrive is insult me, Malik? What kind of friend can you call yourself?”
“An honest one.” Zayn retorts, nudging the back of Naill’s head forward before making his way towards the seat between the two men and sitting himself down. “Apologies for my tardiness.”
“Come off it, mate, you’re alright.” Louis taps his foot against Zayn’s in a subtle emphasis. “I’ve heard your most recent endeavor has been quite the handful.”
He nods with a tired yet amused huff. “You wouldn’t be wrong in that. Admittedly I’ve spent a few nights in the studio.”
“More reason to bring you out to have a drink with us!” Niall exclaims with a wide gesture.
“And more reason for me to invest in protecting my hearing.”
At Niall’s exasperated expression, Louis only furthers Zayn’s point by letting out a bolstered laugh in response. His volume only lowers during the exchange when Liam approaches with two drinks in hand and an amused smile on his face. He silently places one glass down next to the blonde.
“Payne, can you believe this disrespect?” Niall turns his attention towards Liam and dramatically points towards the tanner man in question. “Kick this man out before he taints your fine establishment!”
Liam offers a curious glance to Niall before leaning over and placing the second glass in Zayn’s palm. “You should add theatrics to Horan’s distinct characteristics, Malik.”
“Not you too, Payne!!” The blonde whips his head towards the man across from him. “Tomlinson, you wouldn’t abandon me, would you?”
“I would never!” He exclaims…before a Cheshire like grin dawns his features. “Unless you cost me a fine night out on the town with artists or the rest of my drinks for the night.”
Niall deflates into his seat before joining the groups laughs in jest. Watching the energy of the night continue to spark, Louis takes another sip of his drink to feel the familiar buzz.
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The familiar pitter patter of feet echoing through the halls stirs Louis from his slumber. He stretches his arms out with a sigh in an attempt to distract himself from the urge to bury his head back into his pillow. He knew the inevitability of having to leave once he finally rose, so he absorbed the afterglow of his sleep until the sense of dread became too irritating to bear.
Sitting up with a grunt, he rubbed away the crust of his eyes and pulled back his sheets. The muffled giggles and chatter that seeped through the walls eased the creak in his bones while he undressed. He intricately assembled his outfit in waves through a haphazard routine; first slipping into his undergarments and trousers before quickly moving to the restroom to brush his teeth, then returning to don his shirt and vest before fixing up his hair, and finally pulling up his socks and shoes to walk towards the door. He lazily snags his jacket off of its hanger but when grabbing the door handle he hesitates. His gaze snaps back towards his desk and he quickly hustles over.
A pin laid quietly on the edge of the wooden table. Carefully etched white petals were layered against each other, only unified in the center. Every piece was traced in gold to conceive an intricate yet simple rose. Although age withered at the outer edges of the leaves, the pendant remained in pristine condition.
He lifted up the piece with care, tracing along the outer edge with his fingertip before threading the backing needle through the lapel of his jacket. He quickly slides his arms through and briskly exits his room.
Making his way down the stairs, Louis absentmindedly smiles while the choir of chatter grows louder. He approaches the doorway with careful steps, creeping behind and peeking around the corner. The giggling continues and the voices become clearer. Biting back a smile, Louis takes a few moments to brace, counting down in his head before leaping out with a yell. Four heads whip around in surprise before erupting in shrieking laughter.
“NO LOUIS NOO–” Phoebe shouts as Louis lifts her up, kicking her feet out and failing to repress her fit of laughter. A tug on his trousers brings Louis’ attention back down, grinning as Daisy attempts to climb up his leg.
Georgia runs over to Félicité and tugs at her arm. “TACKLE HIM DOWN!” She shouts, leading the older girl to Louis’ side. He momentarily panics when both girls grab onto his arms. He sways, knees buckling awkwardly in an attempt to not crush the younger girls as he clumsily stumbles onto the ground. Luckily, the only injury sustained was a set of bruises on his knees and ego, so no real harm done.
“ACK– Watch the leg!” Louis yips at the added weight and deflates with a breathless grunt. All four girls climb atop him, holding down his limbs with tiny yet determined fists. He rapidly slaps the ground with a hiccupped laugh in an attempted surrender. “You win! You win! Christ, when did you ‘lot get so big?”
Lottie glances over from behind her and snickers. “You’ve been outnumbered, brother. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Literally, it seems.”
“Beating a man while they're down, now you’re just being cruel.”
The girls giggle at the shared quips and slowly descend off of their brother’s back. Louis straightens up, hiding his wince and pinching at his aching muscle. At the commotion, two new additions make their way to the collapsed group. The pair jump into Louis’ unsuspecting arms in a blur while he attempts to hold the two from slipping.
The twins clutch onto Louis with bubbly squeaks, only calming when a warm voice enters the room. “Doris, Earnest, I beg of you both to not run in the house.”
All seven heads look up to the woman with guilty smiles. Louis dawns his signature charming grin. “Apologies for the rowdyness, mama.”
She simply shakes her head with a smile. “Now, all of you cease in your commotion and rise off of your brother, your breakfast is cooling.”
The children giggle and shuffle off to the dining room in a hurry. Doris and Earnest hesitate to let go of their brother’s shoulders, yet are comforted by the rumble of laughter in Louis’ chest as he carefully rises from the floor to carry the two of them off in his arms, Lottie following in tow.
Each child happily slid into their seats, reaching over to grab their utensils and begin their meals. Louis circles around the head of the table and places the twins in his arms next to their mother. “Upsettingly, my seat will remain empty for this feast.’
The group turns their attention towards the oldest with sour expressions. “What do you mean, Louis?”
He turns his attention to his mother with tightness in his shoulders. “My audience was requested, if I don’t leave now I don’t envision myself attending at all.”
Her brows crease in worry. “Now? But you haven't had any breakfast, and you’re already slim as it is.”
“I am to meet with Cowell for brunch; knowing how little I wish to provide any spoken participation, I’ll surely get my fill then.”
“Louis.”
“Alright, alright, look—“ He lazily reaches over to pick a scone off of one of the plates, messily shoving the biscuit into his mouth. “shatishhied?”
“Hush! Your crumbs will get all over my carpeting!” She fusses.
“The dogs could fix that issue right up for you if you wish. The taste is fruitful so I have no doubts they’d like it.” Louis quickly wipes away at his lip before pecking his mother’s forehead. He bustles away before another beckon could be heard.
Light blinds Louis’ vision once he steps out the entryway. The cool autumn air breezes through the trees as the man hustles down the walkway, adding to the friction he feels towards this encounter. This song and dance he’s participated in for years never seems to get easier. He expects for his foot to be stepped on, maybe a severed toe, but all he knows by the end of it he’ll be exhausted by the end of it. Viscount Cowell always has something up his sleeve or some secret agenda and his connection to the Tomlinsons are his favorite pawn to move in whatever plan he makes. Louis just hopes he isn’t to be paraded around like some token or accolade.
Wishful thinking he supposes.
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In a less elegant fashion than the setting sun, Louis sits himself down in the nearest stool of the bar, exhausted. The vampiric Viscount had indeed drained Louis of all of his energy as was expected. Now, with the muttering of men drinking to their leisure in the background, he decides to drown his current headache out with an impending one the next morning. Future him could deal with the consequences.
Louis orders a refill of his usual and throws his head back with the glass. Placing it back down onto the table with a hum, he relishes in the slow build of warmth blossoming his chest. The option of melting into the counter and leaving the next morning is more than appetizing, although before he was able to begin his thaw, someone hurriedly shuffled into the seat next to him. Pity. Reluctantly, he spares a glance and immediately freezes.
Nevermind. Thank the Queen for him not dissolving in front of a Greek God.
The man was tall with a seemingly leaner build. Cascading off of his broad shoulders he wore a finely pressed suit detailed in a fabric that appeared foreign in texture. His sharp jaw carried not a bit of stubble yet his neatly groomed hair curled at his ears and nape. His features held a balance of youth and strength, but his demeanor expressed the utter opposite.
His eyes darted back and forth in search of…something. His posture was cautious with his shoulders raised just enough to not draw attention but still promise unpredictability. The movements weren’t erratic or theatrical, Louis probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been so taken aback at first glance, but after garnering what he could from looks alone he decides to just busy himself with his drink. Loons could still be beautiful, he supposes. As long as he didn’t engage, he should be fine.
“Hello.” The stranger finally muttered, though his voice had been so hushed Louis almost missed said awkward greeting. Damn it.
“Evening.” He watched the bloke prod at his fingernails with fervor. Louis took a moment to evaluate before speaking, reminding himself how he was raised to not judge others based on their odd habits alone. “Are you alright?”
The man shifted his position on his stool and finally met Louis’ gaze. His lips strained with an impression of a polite smile, though his downturned brow fought the expression. One could say it was comical how he tried. “Possibly?”
Louis offered a playful scoff, didn’t want to frighten the bloke…at least more than he already seemed. “I don’t believe ‘possibly’ is an acceptable response to that question.”
“My apologies— I didn’t intend to insult you, I’m…” The stranger glances around, fidgeting with his fingers. “I feel rather overwhelmed.”
Louis paused. He kept his voice soft, tilting his head to meet the strangers eyes. “That’s an understandable feeling to have. I often feel overwhelmed and I’ve been surrounded by this crowd most of my life. I can only imagine how it may feel for you, given that I’ve never once seen you amongst the ton.” He shrugged.
Flickers of green meet Louis’ blue as the stranger takes a moment. Louis can see the creases in his frown fade into more of an awkward and bashful smile. “I am most definitely new to this sort of thing. If I had more choice in the matter I wouldn’t even have to be new, I would just never encounter this sort of environment.”
“If this is how you act at a bar with only a few men of the ton I’m curious to see how you stand at any of the balls.” Louis chuckled, glancing around at the less than full crowd before returning back to the man. The bloke’s face had completely dropped, eyes becoming wide. Louis had to bite back a laugh.
“I’ve completely forgotten about the balls.” He admitted.
Louis lifts his glass, resting it on his bottom lip to hide his growing smirk, eyes never leaving the distressed man. “What? Not looking forward to swarming mamas?”
He lets out a deep groan, burying his head in his hands and slides his fingers into his hair. “The mamas.”
“With you being a newcomer to these types of pleasures, the mamas may go easy on you.” Louis knew that was a lie, yet he said it anyway. He’s not sure why.
The stranger paused, his eyes becoming downturned. “I fear that to be impossible, especially for my position.”
Louis finally set his glass down with an arched brow. “I cannot tell if you are boasting. As a Viscount I assure you the mamas are used to such status.” He tuts.
“You’re a Viscount?” His eyes are set in disbelief, yet Louis cannot pinpoint the reason for the hint of disappointment that existed within those green orbs. If Louis had met someone around his age who also happened to share his title he would’ve been thrilled.
“Surprised I have a title myself?” Louis offered, presuming a more proper position to emphasize his point. “Are you not also a Viscount? Or do you presume yourself to be some lucrative prince?”
“Ah, you misunderstand— I’m definitely not of any princely status—” He waved his hands frantically, gaze returning to Louis and seeming apologetic. He takes a breath. “I’m a Duke..”
“Oh.”
A beat passes between them.
“OH. Christ, why didn’t you mention this sooner before I utterly embarrassed myself— and insulted you.” Louis grumbled, his eyes turning wide before mirroring the action of burying his face in his hands. He should’ve counted his drinks.
“There is no embarrassment— if I didn’t know I was a Duke I probably would’ve reacted in the same fashion.” The Duke rubbed his hand against the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “Albeit with a tad more restraint.” He tried.
Louis let out another scoff, peeking out from his fingers. He laments a smile and quickly fixes his fringe, straightening up. “Then I apologize for lacking your restraint, Duke Harold Edward Styles.”
“Oh no, it is just Harry. No Harold.”
Another pause. “So your name is just..Harry Edward Styles and not Harold Edward Styles?”
“Why, yes it is!” His smile was wide, excited even, over the simple prospect of his own name. It’s uncommon to have ‘Harry’ not be a direct derivative from ‘Harold’. The only instances where that name was present were in areas of what the ton viewed as the ‘lesser’ society below; people who bore grime on their shoes and clothes, chipped nails, struggling to make it by financially. ‘Harry’ was not a name for a Duke amongst the Queen’s ton. Louis would know. Yet, Harry announced it with such delight.
Louis stares up at him for a moment too long, and only then does the beautiful stranger’s smile begin to fade. His eyebrows creased once again in worry. Louis had to bite back a smile over the dramatics. The name, and ‘Harry’, now seemed almost…
“Charming.”
Like night and day the expression switches once again. “Then may I have your name? Since you now know mine, Sir Viscount…”
“Viscount Louis William Tomlinson. Although I’m English my mother preferred the French pronunciation, an honor of my grandfather no doubt.”
“So I shall never call you ‘Lewis’?”
“Not unless you’d prefer to be known as ‘Harold’ in my eyes.” He laughs.
The Duke, Harry, gleams. He stares for a beat and his eyes shift. Louis isn’t sure what thoughts are passing through behind those eyes yet he recognizes that he wouldn’t come close to guessing at this time of night. Wait, what time was it—
He absentmindedly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his watch, letting out a regretful sigh as he rises to his feet, the Duke’s eyes tracking his movement. “I’ve just come to the realization that one of the Mamas will be quite displeased with me soon.”
“Which Mama?”
“My own. I already skipped attending breakfast this morning; with the fuss I was given for that I theorize that I will be in for much more when I arrive home after dinner.”
Harry giggles. “Admittedly, she would have a point.”
“Sigh, I shall never escape.” Louis waves dismissively and calmly slips his watch back into his pocket. Oddly, he feels capable of making the walk home now but hesitates. Strange.
Harry toys with the hem of his jacket. “Will I be seeing you around then?”
“More than likely.” Louis rustles through another one of his pockets and places a few pounds onto the table. He offers a smile and pats the other’s shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Styles.”
The Duke nods. “And you— it was nice to meet you too, Tomlinson.”
The Viscount turns, offering a polite wave before and finally taking his leave, stepping out into the night. He hums a familiar tune in thought while the chilly air whisks around him. He should probably prepare an excuse for his mother, some sort of explanation for how the night had gotten away from him so quickly.
Maybe he’ll mention the Duke in his explanation. He did make good company, after all.
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