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“What‟re all these?” Harry says, pointing to the punch bowls set up on

the counter.

“Ah, the Tomlinson Christmas special,” Louis says proudly. “The one

on the right is eggnog with brandy, and then the one on the left on the

warmers is hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.”

“Impressive,” Harry says with a nod. “Wish I could drink tonight.”

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Louis pauses in the middle of arranging a cupcake pyramid to frown at

him. “Why can‟t you?”

“Promised my mum I‟d be home when she woke up for Christmas

morning,” Harry tells him. “I‟ve got my suitcase in the car already.”

“Hm, guess you get a pass this time, Styles,” Louis says, returning to

his cupcakes. He tries not to think about the fact that Harry will be

sober all night and capable of remembering everything Louis says or

does while drunk. That sounds like a problem for Sober Louis, who

vacated the premises about half an hour ago.

“Hey,” Harry says quietly, and when Louis looks up, Harry‟s face is

soft and careful. “We‟re okay?”

Louis looks at Harry standing there on the other side of the desserts,

two cupcakes in each hand, and he hates that he‟s made him feel like he

has to ask. “Yeah, we‟re okay.”

The first wave of older faculty members from the school and people

who have to be home early starts to clear out around ten o‟clock, and

Louis knows that means it‟s almost time for things to kick up a notch or

five. When the head of the English department—the last person any of

them could possibly get in trouble for getting drunk and disorderly in

front of—finally leaves, Stan shuts the door behind her.

“All right,” Stan shouts, “let‟s do some fucking shots!”

A cheer goes up through the entire flat, and Niall hits the lights. One of

his own creations comes blasting through the stereo system, a remixed

Rosemary Clooney/LMFAO mashup he made last year and titled

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Shot,” and someone starts passing out a

round of vodka shots.

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“Gird your loins, Harold,” Louis says, turning to grasp Harry by the

shoulder. He‟s aware that his words are already starting to slur a little,

but it‟s okay. It only serves to drive his point home, really.

“Consider them girded,” Harry says. He passes his shot along with a

wink as if to remind Louis that he has already become well acquainted

with Harry‟s loins. Louis elbows him in the side before climbing up

onto one of the kitchen chairs, raising his shot glass aloft.

“Ahem,” he shouts over the crowd and the music. “Mr. Horan, if you

would be so kind as to turn the music down a smidge.” Niall obliges,

and everyone turns to face Louis, shots in hand.

“I‟d like to thank all of you lovely people for turning up tonight to

celebrate the reason for the season: me.” Everyone laughs at that, and

Louis throws up a finger to all of them, grinning. “Honestly, though, I

don‟t know where I‟d be without you lot. So I‟d like to propose a toast!

To myself, of course, and to all of you, to old friends and new,” he

looks down and catches Harry‟s eye at that one, and Harry is grinning

back at him, jingle bells gleaming under the lights, “to another year,

and of course, to getting absolutely pissed and making tits of ourselves

tonight with no regard to our personal safety, cheers!”

Everyone shouts their agreement and throws back their shots at once,

and after a chorus of coughing and sputtering, Niall cranks the music

back up.

From his position, Louis is able to take a moment to assess the whole

party at once. The makeshift dance floor is already packed, dozens of

Christmas hats bobbing around in time to the music. Someone is lining

up another batch of shots on the kitchen counter. Two people are

drunkenly ravishing each other under the mistletoe. A promising start.

The only one who doesn‟t seem to be having any fun is Zayn, who has

spent the last thirty minutes sulking on his phone in the corner. Even

his quiff looks a bit defeated, although that might just be from when

Niall tried to force a Santa hat onto his head earlier.

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“Harry,” Louis yells over the din, “I think I may need you to help me

down, as my motor skills are not what they were an hour ago.”

Harry laughs and offers his hand, which Louis accepts, allowing

himself to be guided down by Harry‟s other hand on his hip. He‟s

drunk and happy enough to give him a slap on the arse as thanks.

“Must go see about our brave little soldier of unrequited love,” Louis

says, and Harry nods and nudges him off, turning around to pick up a

conversation with Stan. Louis weaves his way through the crowd,

stumbling a little before he reaches the chair shoved off to the wall by

the bathroom where Zayn is pouting.

“Zayn,” Louis says, leaning down to peer into Zayn‟s face.

“Zaaaaaayn. Stop tweeting sad song lyrics and come dance with me.”

“I‟m not—” Zayn snaps, but then he looks up and catches sight of

something over Louis‟ shoulder and his entire face freezes in an

expression of cartoon shock.

Louis spins around, expecting to see that someone‟s broken a window

or stepped on his cat or snogged someone they shouldn‟t, but what he

finds is Liam standing in the doorway of his flat and looking very, very

out of place.

“My God,” Louis says, flattening a hand over his heart, “it‟s a

Christmas miracle.”

He makes his way across the room, leaving Zayn paralyzed behind him

like he‟s just seen the ghost of Christmas something or other. Louis

catches a glimpse of Niall as he moves, and he‟s practically jumping up

and down, looking extremely drunk and extremely excited, pointing

jerkily to Liam with his mouth moving in something that looks like,

“Are you seeing this shit?” Louis grins at him and gives him a double

thumbs up. Tonight is going to be even more fun than he expected.

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“Hello!” Louis when he reaches Liam, a picture of yuletide cheer.

Before the poor man even has a chance to respond, Louis yanks him

into a hug. “Happy Christmas! So glad you could make it!”

Liam, to his credit, returns the hug with significantly less awkwardness

than Louis was expecting. His coat is scratchy dark wool and very

practical. When Louis pulls away, he‟s smiling genuinely at him,

looking pleased just to have some new friends.

Before Liam has a chance to say anything, Zayn is suddenly right next

to them, smiling in a way that is probably supposed to be winsome and

casual but which Louis can easily recognize as the blind hysteria that it

is. He hauls Liam into a hug of his own, made brave by alcohol and

Louis having broken the ice already. Louis keeps close track of Liam‟s

response, since he knows Zayn will grill him about it later. He closes

his eyes when Zayn hugs him, still smiling, and doesn‟t even look

alarmed when Zayn holds on a bit too long.

“Sorry I‟m so late,” Liam says when they break apart, and he really

does look sincere about it. “Work was insane today, and then I got

caught in the snow on the way over.”

“It‟s fine, it‟s totally fine, it‟s, you know, we‟re...” Zayn trails off and

lapses into silence for a moment, just staring blissfully at Liam like he

still can‟t believe he‟s actually there. Liam blinks back at him.

“Zayn,” Louis says pointedly, treading on his foot, “why don‟t you

show our friend where he can put his coat?”

“Yes, right, of course,” Zayn says, springing back into action. He grabs

Liam by the elbow and gives it a little tug. “This way, and then you‟ve

got to see the food, we‟ve got loads.”

They disappear into the crowd, and Louis turns to find Harry staring at

him from the kitchen, wide-eyed.

“Oh my God,” Harry mouths.

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“I know,” Louis mouths back.

After that it‟s honestly all a bit blurry for Louis. Someone hands him

another shot, and then he has a glass of eggnog, and then another, and

then some concoction of Niall‟s that tastes like cranberry sauce and

Ireland and the promise of a hangover. He remembers somebody‟s shirt

hitting him in the face as it was flung across the room and downing at

least four cupcakes until his mouth is stained green. He remembers

Niall signing some woman's boobs, which should be confusing but

honestly doesn't throw him much at the time. He remembers watching

Zayn spill his own plate of food everywhere while telling Liam

something with a lot of hand gestures and then mostly staring in awe as

Liam fetched a dishtowel and started cleaning it up for him. He

remembers Niall coming over the sound system to tell everyone to shut

the fuck up while Harry lit up the candles on the cake, and he

remembers everyone singing him happy birthday. He doesn‟t remember

what he wishes for, but he remembers looking at Harry while he does

it.

He‟s leaned up against the kitchen counter, trying to get his vision

straight for long enough to tell whether or not he needs to put out more

food, when Stan sidles up next to him and throws an arm over his

shoulders.

“So, mate,” he says, breath smelling of beer and meat pies, “anything

new happening? You know, in your... life.”

Louis squints at him. “Forgive me if I‟m wrong, because I am a bit very

drunk, but have we not already had this conversation tonight?”

“Yes, but you did not mention that strapping fellow,” Stan says,

gesturing across the party. Harry is over by the stereo with Niall on his

back, laughing as he looks through the karaoke song selections.

“Yeah, that‟s Harry,” Louis says.

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“I know,” Stan says, rolling his eyes. “We‟ve met. He brought you a

birthday cake.”

“Yes, he did,” Louis says. His strategy is to be as noncommittal as

possible and then maybe the conversation will just end. Also, drink. He

needs another drink.

“So, what‟s the story?” Stan presses. “I‟m sure you‟ve noticed he‟s

quite fit.”

Louis can‟t help but smile ruefully down at his cup as he fills it with

cider. “Quite.”

“He seems to like you a lot,” Stan says, and that gets Louis‟ attention.

“What d‟you mean?” Louis says, his head popping up. “Did he say

something to you?”

“Aha!” Stan crows, looking triumphant. “So there‟s something

happening there, eh?”

Louis shoves his shoulder into Stan‟s and pulls a face that he intends to

be disdain, but he‟s so drunk that God only knows what it ends up

looking like. “All right, yes. I‟m shagging him, but it‟s not a big deal or

anything. We‟re friends.”

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Really? Not a big deal? Because I can‟t

remember the last time you were actually friends with someone you

shagged.”

Louis gives him a proper glare for that one.

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“Look, I‟m just, you know,” Stan says, withdrawing his arm and

returning to his beer. “I don‟t want to make things awkward if you‟re,

whatever. You just look really happy, Lou. It‟s nice.”

He gives Louis a shrugging smile and fades back into the party, and

Louis stares after him for a moment before draining half his cup of

cider in one go.

The cider does the trick. He‟s able to enjoy the rest of the night without

analyzing what Stan said, too busy evading a lap dance from his

veterinary assistant and shimmying at half of the maths department to

the sounds of dubstep Bing Crosby. Somewhere off the the side Zayn is

still talking to Liam, casually trying to edge them toward the mistletoe

only to have all his work undone every time Liam steps politely out of

the way to let somebody through and moves them backwards two feet.

There‟s too much to laugh at for Louis to bother worrying about

anything else at the moment. He doesn‟t even have a fit when Harry

catches and holds his eyes across the dance floor when “All I Want For

Christmas is You” comes on, shaking his hips over to Louis, singing

the ooh, baby right in his ear.

It‟s around this time that the drunken karaoke starts up and, Jesus, it

was worth sweet talking Niall into borrowing all the equipment from

school just to see Harry gyrating to “Santa Baby,” all languid hips and

raspy voice and hotter than it has any right to be when he‟s not even

being serious about it.

Somewhere around 2 a.m., Niall and Zayn decide to go out onto the

balcony for a smoke at the same time. Harry drags Louis outside with

them despite his protests of how bollocks-freezing cold it is out there,

and Liam follows them, presumably because the four of them are the

only people he actually knows at this party.