Harry doesn't know what he's doing on Strictly Come Dancing on a Monday afternoon. He's a singer, not a dancer, but for some reason his manager has accepted the request for him to be on the show. As he waits for his dance partner to turn up, he hopes he won't suck too badly - he doesn't want to humiliate himself on live television.
Suddenly, he hears the click of the door opening and light footsteps approaching, so he looks up to take in the person he will be dancing with. He expects a girl, but is shocked when he sees a young man instead, carrying a rucksack on his shoulder, dressed in joggers and a thin shirt. He takes in his figure, admiring the curves that are barely noticeable through the loose material and the tanned skin. The legs that are short, definitely smaller than his own and those blue, blue eyes that meet his own with a happy twinkle.
"Hi," says the man, dropping his bag on the floor against the wall and coming to sit next to Harry on the floor, "You're probably confused as to what's going on. Basically, two days ago the girl who was meant to dance with you broke her leg in an accident with a dodgy lift. They couldn't get any girls at such short notice, so here I am. I suspect it's because of my height. I don't get many opportunities to dance because all the girls are so tall and I'm so short. It sucks. I'm Louis, by the way."
Harry blinks at the sudden large amount of information, before remembering to introduce himself.
"Harry," he replies, holding out a hand to Louis.
Louis laughs, "I know that, you're kind of a big thing. Plus, my sisters are all obsessed with you. Three out of five bedrooms are covered in posters of you."
Harry smiles. Louis talks a lot and he already feels comfortable with him.
"And what about you? Do you have any posters of me?" He asks, cheekily.
Louis grins, "I may have one or two. Who wouldn't want Harry Styles watching them as they sleep?"
Harry chuckles, placing his hands on his knees and dropping his head. Louis stands up, pulling Harry with him with an exclamation of, "Come on, slow coach," and begins stretching, causing Harry to do the same.
"So, this week we're doing the jive, which is actually really fun to do. It involves a lot of jazz hands," Louis demonstrates, adding a small jump into a pose making Harry smile.
"So for the choreography, I've worked out a routine that's fairly simple but it's so simple it's good, if you know what I mean."
Harry nods and Louis takes his hand, beginning to teach him the routine.
Two days later and it's Wednesday. Dance With Me Tonight is blasting through the speakers as Louis directs Harry through the dance moves.
"-and one two three four, one two three four, spin two three and step, step, spin, jump - no Harry, that's not quite right."
Harry sighs. He just can't get the stupid step right. He grabs his water bottle from his bag and sits on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees as he takes steady gulps.
"I'm such a shit dancer," he mutters darkly, placing the water bottle next to him and hiding his face in his crossed arms, sulking like a child who was just told they can't have any ice cream before dinner.
Louis shakes his head, going to sit in front of Harry and pulling his arms apart.
"No," he says, sternly, "you are not a shit dancer, Harry. I've seen shit dancers and you are definitely
not one of them. You're new to dancing and this is a complicated step. It takes time and practice, so don't you dare say you're shit."
Harry feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn't want to show Louis the power he holds over Harry, the ability to make him smile from a few simple words that could easily be a lie. So he forced his mouth back into the frown, burying his face back into his knees in case he can't hold it back.
Louis huffs at the boy's stubbornness, brushing his fringe out of his eyes and thinking of a way to get that dimpled grin he loves so much to come back out to play. Then he gets an idea and grins, wondering if what all the magazines he's nicked off his sisters say is true.
He crawls around so he's sat behind Harry and reaches out to rapidly scribble his fingers over Harry's sides. Harry squeaks and starts laughing, immediately pulling his arms down to try and bat his hands away. Louis' grin widens as he tries to keep his fingers on Harry's sides. He mentally thanks the magazine for the information.'Top Of The Pops found out Harry Styles is very ticklish-'
Harry falls backwards, wriggling around to try and escape Louis' fingers and Louis takes to opportunity to leap from his previous position to straddle Harry's hips. He dances his fingers over Harry's stomach but he can't do a proper job because Harry's damn hands keep on getting in the way. Eventually, he comes up with an idea. He pulls the thin scarf from around his neck and uses it to begin tying Harry's arms above his head. Once Harry susses out what's going on, he struggles even more, trying desperately to free his hands because no, he doesn't want Louis to find out how ridiculously ticklish he is
, it'll just be something else he has over him.
Peering around Louis' body as he ties his arms, Harry notices Louis' feet are just in the right position for him to move his and scratch his toe against his sole. He does so and Louis shrieks, falling off of Harry and clutching his foot in both hands.
Harry grins, pulling his hands apart from where Louis had been tying them as he hasn't quite finished, so it was still loose. He takes one look at Louis' face and knows he has to do something with this information. He crawls towards Louis, watching with a smirk as he scrambles backwards, back hitting the mirrored wall. Harry advances on Louis until he's right in front of him and for a moment just sits there on his knees, observing the scared look on his face. He waits at least a minute before striking, diving towards Louis and burying his hands in his armpits. Louis squeals and tries to push Harry away, only succeeding in falling flat on his back, pulling Harry down with him.
They wrestle on the floor, rolling over each other and shrieking with laughter whenever the other manages to tickle them. It goes on like that for a while until Harry finally has Louis beneath him while he straddle his thighs, facing his feet. He places his nails over his soles and is just about to unleash a full tickle attack on them when Louis' fingers hovering over his sides make him freeze.
"You even touch my feet and I will tickle you so much you'll be trying to catch your breath for the next century," Louis speaks, calmly.
Harry considers for a second.
"If I take away my hands, promise you won't tickle me?"
"I promise," Louis agrees, "Now get them away."
Harry reluctantly withdraws his hands, cursing himself for being just as ticklish as Louis, if not more. But then the fingers at his sides dig in.
"Lohohou, you promised, you promihihihised!" He giggles, clasping his sides and trying to push Louis hands away.
"Fingers crossed, doesn't count."
Harry loses his balance and tips to the side, but manages to grab one of Louis' socked feet on the way, tickling the sole harshly. Louis bursts into laughter but keeps up his fingers on Harry's sides. They fall into a ball of tangled limbs and laughter, and somewhere along the line someone must've had enough. Both of them back away until they're against the wall on opposite ends of the room, panting heavily and staring at each other, pathetic giggles still streaming from their mouths.
When they've finally calmed down, Harry calls across to Louis, "Truce?"
Louis nods, head resting against the wall, "Truce."
Harry goes to move, but then says suspiciously, "Hands where I can see them!"
Louis chuckles, but does so, raising his hands as if he were surrendering.
"Now swear that you won't tickle me again today," Harry continues.
"I solemnly swear that I will not tickle you, Harold Edward Styles again on this day, September 25th 2013. Happy?"
Harry smiles, "Very. Now, let's get back to rehearsing. We have a show to do on Saturday."
Louis stands, making his way across to Harry and pulling him to his feet, letting out a, "Hey!" as Harry pokes his stomach.
Harry grins, "Hey, I never made any promises to you."
"So, how are rehearsals for you two?" The interviewer asks (Niall, his name is), leaning forward in his chair.
Harry looks at Louis, accusingly, "Louis spends most of the time tickling me. I swear, it's a miracle I even know the steps at all from all the time he takes up."
Louis jabs his arm, arguing, "Oh yeah, it's not like you ever tickle me. Last Wednesday he wouldn't let me practice one of my moves properly because I had to raise my arms and every time I did, he'd tickle my armpits. It was so annoying
Niall laughs, "Well, it seems like you two have very interesting rehearsals. I wouldn't like to get in the middle of any of them."
Harry catches Louis' eye and grins. They both creep towards Niall, making Niall recoil in horror.
"No. No guys, come on."
But they ignore him and drag him to the floor, each choosing a spot to attack.
"C-cut to adveheherts," Niall calls through his laughter, face beginning to turn red.
But the camera men look at each other and shake their heads - this is far more interesting.
A/N: WOAH THAT WAS LONG
I'm not really sure where that came from, but there will be a Part Two up shortly where Harry gets tortured. Feet again (cos I'm in da mooooood) and maybe some other parts if I feel like it. ^_^ YAAAAAAY!
If any of you have any punny titles for this, PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME BECAUSE I'M NOT CLEVER AND I CAN'T THINK OF ANY
But anywhale, it's almost 1am and I have scho-elle so BYYYYYYYYYYE *twiddles fingers*