Woke Up With a Smile in the Morning

Still somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Liam fisted the soft white bed sheet in his hand. A beautiful laugh echoed through his mind while the matching smile flashed behind his eyelids. As he rolled over, the sunlight filtering through the curtains effectively pierced through his sleepy haze. The brightness chased every bit of that lovely image away, replacing it with a horrible throbbing ache. He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He opened his eyes, then groaned again and immediately closed them. But his tongue tasted like salty cotton and was sticking to the roof of his mouth and he knew he had to get up eventually. He sat up and threw the sheets aside, waiting for the insides of his head to still before opening his eyes. He froze as he took in the room around him.

He’d never seen this room before in his life.

That was not his dresser. He didn’t own a lava lamp. His mirror was half the size and hung above his desk, not on the back of the door. And his door was on the right, not the left. The walls were the wrong color and now that he thought about it, the bed felt odd as well. And he was positive his sheets were currently a dark green, not this bright white.

Liam closed his eyes and wracked his brain. The last thing he remembered was ordering his sixth – seventh? – beer at the bar last night, which had clearly been a mistake. He tried to remember who held the glass he’d clinked his pint against.

A blurry tattoo on a wrist lifting a glass... a mischievous smile... a thick accent echoing his toast...

Liam’s head began to protest more loudly, so stopped straining and opened his eyes.

The obvious conclusion was that he’d gotten trashed and he and this stranger – the owner of this flat – had ended up in this bed. But Liam could tell he hadn’t had sex recently and only his half of the bed was mussed. He was still wearing his pants, t-shirt, and socks. Looking to the end of the bed, he found his jeans folded neatly, his phone and wallet resting on top of them.

With a sigh, he reached for his phone; Niall had to know at least something. Suddenly, slender fingers flashed in his mind’s eye, taking his phone from his hand the night before. Resisting the urge to shake the image from his mind, he dialed Niall. After six rings, Niall’s pre-recorded voice greeted him.

“Heya. Niall, here. Sorry I missed you, I’ll call back when I can.” Liam sighed as the beep sounded.

“Hey, Ni. Just wanted to – catch up. After last night. Anyway, gimme a call.”

As he hung up, he noticed the voicemail notification on the screen and tapped it. Sure enough, Niall’s voice greeted him again.

“Hey, man. You’re probably still at the pub, but I’m hoping you get this tomorrow anyway, since you won’t remember it if you hear it tonight. Sorry I had to bail, but you know I’ve got that meeting tomorrow. Harry vouched for the bloke and he did seem like a good sorta fellow and all so I’m hoping you’re in good hands. I told Haz to call if stuff goes south. But – call me tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll assume you’re lying in a ditch somewhere and send the police after you, alright? So – let me know you’re alive or whatever. Anyway, have fun, mate.”

The automated voice asked if he wanted to save or delete the message but Liam cut it off by hanging up. He sighed and sifted through his wallet, finding he’d spent all his cash at the pub last night.

Liam stood to pull on his jeans and felt as though his entire body was screaming at him. When he decided he was not going to hurl, he made his way to the desk. Just a few sticky notes and pens were scattered on the desktop, but there were a couple photos pinned onto the bulletin board above it. Hoping to find a clue, Liam studied them.

One was of a group of girls ranging from five to maybe fourteen years old in nearly-matching dresses, hugging and laughing. Behind them, a woman that looked like their mother smiled at the camera. The photo seemed to be few years old. Another was a signed action shot of a football player Liam couldn’t name. There was a third, which also looked a little aged, of two young men – maybe teenagers. One was skinny, shirtless, and tattooed, sitting on a bench with his head bent over the guitar in his lap, his mop of curly hair hiding his face. Liam remembered Niall introducing him to the same head of hair behind the bar the previous night. Haz – Harry? he asked himself. The other young man was skinny as well but wore a gray shirt under a leather jacket. Stubble tinted his jawline and he had an arm thrown across the other boy’s shoulders. His eyes were sparkling as he smiled at the camera, holding up a ‘W’ with his free hand.

All that Liam could guess from the photos was that this stranger was good friends with the bartender from last night and possibly had a lot of sisters.

Liam sighed and turned around to once-over the room again, but seemed to move his body a little too fast for his insides. He stilled and reminded himself that he needed to do something about this hangover. He made his way to the door and noticed for the first time a small, bright green post-it stuck to the door just below eye level. Liam squinted to clear his vision before reading the thin but messy scrawl.

“I totally get if you wanna bail. Remember you have my number.” The message was signed with a winking smiley face. Liam fumbled for his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found the most recent entry. He groaned as he read the contact name. A flash of a round bum in tight jeans surged from his memories. He avoided shaking his head as he cursed his drunk self.

Having hit a dead end on the name front, Liam slipped the phone back into his pocket and braced himself with a breath before opening the door. He peeked out cautiously.

“Hello?” When the only response was silence, he stepped out into the flat, which seemed to be deserted. The flat wasn’t large nor extensively decorated, but simple, cozy, and tasteful.  He could tell someone actually lived here. And that someone was probably about his age.

Across the sitting room, Liam spied a bar counter and kitchenette. His head throbbing notably as if to remind him of his hangover, Liam started toward the kitchen in search of a glass of water. Another bright sticky note greeted him, this one pink and stuck to the refrigerator.

“If you’ve made it this far, feel free to grab something to eat. Unfortunately there’s not much.” This one was signed with a slanty-mouthed unsure face. Liam opened cupboards until he found a cup and filled it with tap water. Sipping the water, Liam left the kitchen and meandered around the flat, looking for more pictures or maybe mail with a name on it. He found no clues, but a bright orange note on the door caught his eye. He made his way over to read it.

“You’ve probably got a rancid hangover so I’ve gone out for some food to cure it. (Don’t feel pressured to stay – I also just need food in the house.)” This one was signed with a regular smiley face.

Here Liam paused. His eyes drifted to the doorknob.

He could leave. He could do it. He could go home and collect himself, talk with Niall, piece together the night until he could work up enough nerve to call this mystery man.

Then again... his insides still felt like they were waging a civil war and he wasn’t sure he could stomach a cab ride at the moment. And it might be nice to have a name to put to the number in his phone. Maybe even a face? Clearly he and this stranger had gotten along well last night. But...

The sheer embarrassment of his situation was beginning to overwhelm him when he heard a key turn in the lock. He started and looked around quickly, as if he meant to dive into some hiding place. When the door opened, he froze.

The man started upon seeing Liam directly in the entryway, but he recovered quickly. “Heya, sleepy head. Speaking of heads, how’s yours?”

“It’s been better,” Liam said, attempting conversation. Noticing the grocery bags, Liam asked, “Do you need any help?” He set his water glass down and started forward, but the other man shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” He made his way to the kitchen and Liam hung back, feeling more out of place than before. This man was beautiful. Liam remembered the tattoos now, and his hands, and his smile was definitely the one from Liam’s earlier dream... If only he could hear that musical laugh again... As Liam watched the flat owner put away groceries and pull out some pans, he found himself staring. He imagined running his hands through this man’s soft – <i>soft?</i>, he thought – hair and couldn’t tell if it was a memory or a new thought. When the other man reached up into a cupboard, Liam noticed his shirt ride up, revealing a strip of skin at the small of his back and Liam couldn’t stop himself from imagining – or... remembering? – the feel of that skin under his firm hand. If only he could –

“So I’m guessing you’re trying to piece together the missing bits from last night,” the flat owner said, pulling Liam from his thoughts while cracking eggs into a pan.

Liam felt himself flush although the other man wasn’t looking at him. He cleared his throat and diverted his gaze. “Uh, yeah, basically.”

“Anything I can help with?” the man asked while he cracked eggs into a fry pan.

Liam fidgeted, trying to find where to begin.

“Just know that it’s impossible to shock me after last night,” the other man continued, possibly attempting to comfort. “Man, you were wasted.”

Liam chuckled, relaxing a bit. At least that fact was indisputable. He moved forward to lean against the bar while the other man cooked.

“Well... can we start with your name?”

The flat owner put a hand to his chest and let his jaw drop in mock surprise. “You don’t remember me?” He switched to a pout. “I’m hurt.”

Liam knew he was joking, but he clarified. “No, I remember you. Kind of. You’re in all the bits and pieces from last night.” He tapped his forefinger to his temple. “Your name’s just slipped my mind.”

“Ah,” the flat owner said, and stuck his left hand in Liam’s direction, awkwardly crossing his body since he was cooking with his other. “Name’s Louis.” Liam shook Louis’s hand with polite nod.

“Liam,” he answered, “but you already know that,” he added, making an educated guess.

“That I do,” Louis said taking his hand back to flip the eggs from the pan onto a plate.

Liam cautiously eased himself onto a barstool at the counter, preparing himself for the next confession.

“I actually... don’t remember all that much from last night.”

“I do not find that surprising.” Louis slid the plate across the bar counter to his guest.

“Thanks,” Liam said, genuinely grateful. He moved the food around the plate before continuing his train of thought. Louis filled a kettle and placed it on the stove. “Could you maybe... walk through the night? Maybe it would help stuff come back to me?” Liam thought he caught Louis smirk but it was gone before he could be sure.

“Yeah, man, sure.” Waiting for the water to boil, Louis leaned against the opposite counter. “Let’s see...” he began. Liam had a wary feeling about this, but attributed it to the anticipation of embarrassment.

“When I got to the pub, you and Niall – your blond friend, I assume you remember him?” Liam nodded. “You two were already partying pretty hard. I went straight to the bar because a good friend of mine was working that shift.”

“Wait, I remember that part.” Liam focused on the fuzzy memory. He remembered watching a very attractive man – Louis – approach the bar and talk with the bartender; he remembered nudging Niall and nodding in ‘the cute guy’s’ direction; he remembered –

“I asked if you were there alone. When you said yes, I invited you to join us. You asked what we were celebrating and I said...”

“Life,” Louis finished for him. Liam couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he played with his food and ate a couple bites, mumbling something about himself being “unbelievably naïve.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Louis reassured him as he poured himself a cup of tea. When Liam looked up at him, Louis shrugged and said, “It was kinda cute.” He made a second cup and offered it to Liam, who accepted it with a nod. When Louis continued the story, he walked around the bar and into the sitting room, taking a seat in an armchair. Liam tried to rotate on his stool to follow him while still eating. “After that, we shared a couple beers while you told me about your kidney situation and talked Niall up a bit... and your bartender, you talked him up a bit too, even though we told – Hey, don’t worry about that.”

Liam had taken his plate into the kitchen and begun to rinse it. “It’s the least I can do,” he answered before finishing up and joining Louis back in the sitting room, bringing his tea. He took a seat on the couch across from Louis.

Louis just shook his head and continued recounting the past night’s events. “Then Niall said he had to go. You, of course, were completely devastated and honestly, who could say no to that mug?” he asked, gesturing at Liam’s face. Liam flushed again, imagining his juvenile pout. “So Niall took me aside and asked if I’d be cool with making sure you got home and all. I crossed my heart, gave him my phone number, and said I’d watch out for you.” Louis took another sip of tea. “He must not have believed me too much, since he asked our bartender if I could be trusted. Haz vouched for me, of course,” he added with a smug smile.

“Yeah, Niall’s message mentioned that the bartender said you could be trusted.” Liam took a sip of his own tea.

“Harry’s a good kid,” Louis commented, his smile more sincere.

With a sigh, Liam continued. “I honestly don’t remember anything after Niall left. I mean... I think I remember giving you my phone for your number. And... like... laughing? Yeah, I’m not sure at all.”

Louis’s smiled widened and Liam got very nervous. Or... excited? Nervous.

“I do have to say I’m a little disappointed, although not surprised.”

“Sorry?” Liam offered.

“After Niall left, we just kept drinking and talking, but you got kinda handsy.” Liam felt himself grow a deeper shade of pink and Louis’s suggestive eyebrows did nothing to help.

“Oh god,” he whispered to himself, remembering – yes, remembering – the feel of Louis’s skin under his own intoxicated touch.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Louis clarified. “We did exchange numbers. I put my number under my name but you changed it, giggled like a four-year-old, and refused to tell me what it was when I asked. Then you showed it to Harry who, although completely sober, also giggled like a four-year-old and refused to tell me.”

Liam felt some measure of relief at this but Louis’s gaze was challenging.

After a pause, Louis asked, “What is it?”

“What?”

“What’s the contact name.”

Liam shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll, uh – I’ll tell you later.” Louis squinted, suspicious. “I promise. After we finish going over last night.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but relaxed.

“So, uh, after we exchanged numbers, what happened?” Liam prompted. Louis’s mischievous smile returned.

“You had another drink, but I’d decided to stop, since I had to look after you and all. You are a very affectionate drunk, you know that?”

Liam hid his face in his hands. “I’ve been told that, yes,” he mumbled.

“You were like, talking with your hands a lot and suddenly you’d grab my hand and just keep gesturing like you didn’t know you were doing it. But every time I took my hand back you’d find a way to grab it again.”

“Oh, boy,” Liam whispered and scrubbed his face with his hands before dropping them. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

“I didn’t mind,” Louis said casually.

Liam fought to hide his surprise.

“After a while, I just went along with it, figuring you were actually doing it on purpose,” Louis continued. “After another pint, I decided it might be fun to try a little game. Every time you’d do something to touch me or move closer, I’d either mirror you or take it a step further.”

Liam didn’t try to hide his intrigue this time. He was genuinely curious what exactly Louis meant. Perhaps guessing so, Louis had shifted forward in his seat to bring himself closer to Liam, who was already leaning forward in his own seat, elbows resting on his knees.

“So when you casually took up one hand,” Louis said as he gracefully linked his fingers through Liam’s left hand with his own right hand, “I’d take up your other hand.” He continued, lifting Liam’s other hand and lacing their fingers together. “When you leaned in to speak,” Louis pulled Liam to stand with him, “I’d take a step closer.” Doing so as he spoke, there was now very little space between them.

Louis paused for a while, looking into Liam’s face, and the two stood there, practically sharing breath. Then Louis dropped his gaze and Liam’s hands, and twisted away to lean on the arm of the couch Liam had been sitting on.

“Things kinda progressed like that until we were basically making out at the bar,” Louis shrugged at his feet. “When you started having trouble staying on two feet, I decided it was time to get you home. You couldn’t remember your address for the cabbie so I brought you here and slept on the couch.” Louis still wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Thank you,” Liam said. Louis just shrugged at the ground again. “Hey,” Liam said, stepping forward and gently linking a couple of Louis’s fingers with his own. “Thank you,” Liam said as Louis finally met his eyes.

Louis searched Liam’s face for a minute before nearly whispering, “You’re welcome.”

Liam smiled. After a bit, he continued. “You know, some things are still a little fuzzy.” He took a step back but held onto Louis’s hand, pulling Louis with him.

“Yeah?” Louis asked, a small smile creeping back onto his face as he stood once more.

“Yeah. Like with that game you were talking about. How exactly did it work again? I think you left out some details.”

“Let’s see,” Louis said, playing along. “When you’d grab one hand, I’d grab the other...” He took Liam’s free hand with his own.

Liam leaned forward to say, “and when I’d do this...”

Taking the bait, Louis took a step forward and finished, “I’d do this.”

Their lips mere centimeters apart, Liam asked, “And then what did I do?”

Louis smiled. “You kissed my nose.”

Liam laughed but did so, a delicate peck, then asked, “What did you do to match that?”

“Nah, I decided to raise,” Louis countered and leaned forward to graze Liam’s earlobe with his teeth.

Liam shuddered involuntarily and tried to continue the game. “And then –”

“You put your hands –” Louis explained, moving Liam’s hands around him to rest at the small of his back, just at the top of his bum. Words seemed to fail them both as Louis moved his own hands around Liam’s neck and into the back of his hair while Liam unconsciously grasped lower and pulled him closer.

The two remained there, sharing shallow breaths, until Liam leaned forward and pressed his lips to Louis’s. Louis pressed back.

And suddenly Liam was reliving the previous night, feeling everything twice over; the hands in his hair, the lips on his neck, the skin beneath his hands.

Liam only realized he was pushing Louis’s shirt up when the other man lifted his arms. Liam didn’t think twice, breaking away briefly to pull the shirt off and toss it aside. Louis’s hands trailed from Liam’s shoulders and down his chest as Liam marveled at Louis’s newly exposed skin, kissing along his collarbone and the fancy font inked along it. Just as Liam’s hands began to dip below the back of Louis’s trousers, Louis’s hands came to rest at Liam’s waistband. Hooking his fingers through Liam’s belt loops, Louis began to back away, pulling Liam after him as Liam’s mouth continued to chase his skin.

When Louis felt his legs hit the couch, he turned Liam toward it and the two sank down to the cushions slowly, distracted by each other.

When Louis was on top of him, Liam’s hands traveled downward until he was gripping Louis’s bum through bothersome jeans. He felt Louis smile into their kisses and found himself smiling back; Louis’s ass seemed to fit perfectly in Liam’s palms. When Louis ducked to the side to return to Liam’s ear, Liam unconsciously squeezed and the other lad let out a small chuckle, tickling Liam’s ear and causing him to echo Louis’s laugh. With matching smiles, they slipped their mouths together again.

Liam was beginning to berate himself for being too hammered to remember the first time they’d done something like this; it was blissful. However, he wasn’t sure they would’ve ended up here at all if he hadn’t had so much to drink, so he reminded himself to thank Niall when he got home.

When Liam realized Louis was tugging upward on the hem of his shirt, he leaned  forward to help Louis discard it. As Liam laid back again, Louis paused for a moment, just running his hand down Liam’s chest. Liam watched, confused, but soon Louis’s mouth followed his hand, kissing along the hard lines of Liam’s stomach. Liam fisted Louis’s hair and tugged slightly. Louis raised his head and returned to Liam’s lips. Liam, wanting his turn to better explore, leaned forward again, supporting Louis with an arm around his back until they were flipped, Louis now beneath him. Liam began to kiss down Louis’s chest. He started at Louis’s prominent collarbone and progressed downward, lingering at tattoos. Louis squirmed and tightened his grip in the hair at the nape of Liam’s neck as Liam mouthed at his hipbone. Liam smiled into Louis’s bare skin before turning to bite at the tattoo around Louis’s wrist. Louis pulled Liam’s face back to him with a groan of frustration.

After a moment, the vibration of Liam’s phone pulled his attention. Instead of answering it, he just sat back and said, “I should probably be going.”

Louis’s pout was the most endearing thing Liam had seen in quite a while. He couldn’t hold back a smile as he leaned forward to take Louis’s sulking bottom lip briefly between his teeth before pulling away again.

“Niall’s gonna think you waited for me to wake up before murdering me.”

“It is the noble thing to do,” Louis supplied reasonably.

Liam cast one last, long glance at Louis’s body, pliant beneath him, before sighing and leaning for his shirt. As he pulled it down over his head, Louis sat up to meet him with another slow, gentle kiss. “Can we continue this some time?” he asked.

Liam hummed as the warmth from the kiss dissipated. “Yeah,” he breathed, opening his eyes slowly. “Definitely, yes,” he managed with more conviction. He gathered his willpower and stood. “You have my number,” he said, attempting cheek.

As Liam picked up Louis’s shirt, Louis remembered. “Oh yeah. What name did you save my number under?” To Louis’s delight, the flush returned to Liam’s cheeks immediately.

Fidgeting Louis’s shirt in his hands, Liam muttered to the ground.

“I’m sorry?” Louis asked, now leaning forward.

“Big Booty,” Liam said in an indignant huff.

At Louis’s squeal of laughter, Liam threw Louis’s t-shirt at his face.

“See you around,” Liam said as he headed for the door, trying to suppress a smile.

“Text me!” Louis called after him gleefully.



Niall emerged from the bathroom, dressed but toweling off his still-wet hair. “Oi,” he said as he walked past Liam cooking spaghetti in the kitchen. “Why don’t we invite your little bar-fling to dinner?”

“Because it’s really short notice, Ni,” Liam answered, as if decorum should be the first thought on Niall’s mind.

Niall scoffed and picked up Liam’s phone from the coffee table. “Come on, Li. Can’t hurt to ask.”

Liam looked up. “You know you have his number too,” he suggested.

“Yeah, yeah, my phone’s in my room.” Niall began to scroll and Liam smiled down at the pot of sauce.

“Hey, where’s his number?” Niall called out.

“It’s under a nickname,” Liam responded casually.

Niall entered the kitchen, the towel now around his neck and eyebrows raised. “Oh really, Mr. Payne? You spend one night with the guy and you’re giving him a pet name? I’m thinking you have some attachment issues.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to invite him to dinner. And you spent less time with him than I did.”

Niall squinted. “Fair.” He turned back to the phone. “What’s the name, Payno?”

Liam rolled his eyes, attempting to feign annoyance instead of embarrassment. “Just give me the phone.”