We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine
If Harry really thinks about it, the plan–and whoever came up with it–is certifiably batshit insane. A lot of the aspects shouldn’t work; quite a bit of the plan relies on chance and dumb luck. And if any of those parts fall through–if people don’t act the way they expect them to, or if the car arrives five minutes later than usual, then the entire thing will fall through and they’ll be arrested in no time.
But somehow, some-fucking-how, it seems to be working.
Harry holds his breath as he presses his ear against the metal of the van, straining to hear what’s going on outside. He can hear two voices–Niall’s and the security guard’s, probably–but he can’t make out what they’re saying.
This is the last frontier, the last hurdle they have to get through, until phase one of their batshit insane plan is complete.
“Can you hear anything?” Louis asks, his voice a low murmur in his ear. They’re pressed up together behind barrels of money, curled up as close as possible so they’re not visible.
Harry shakes his head. Louis breathes out a quiet sigh. “Fuck.”
It’s highly possible, Liam had told them in one of their briefings, that someone’s going to open the back door at this checkpoint. So they’re really going to have to stay quiet, and stay fucking hidden.
“Niall, c’mon,” Louis murmurs, placing a hand on the metal of the van, as if reaching out to touch Niall. “Sell it.”
And just as he says it, Harry hears raised voices, hears a door slam. He tenses, his heart kicking up a notch. “Shit.”
It’s happening. This is really fucking happening. Harry’s stomach churns, and he feels the familiar sensation of nausea, one that he only ever gets when he’s nervous.
“Shh,” Louis says, and in a blink of an eye, he’s climbed on top of Harry, pushing him down and pressing his palm over Harry’s nose and mouth. Harry stares up at him, wide-eyed, unable to speak, and Louis just looks at him, his blue eyes screaming trust me.
And then, the sound of boots on gravel. The click of the back door handle, and then the sudden gush of wind. The jack-rabbiting of Harry’s heart in his ears, so loud that he’s convinced that the people outside can hear it, that they’re going to get found out and this whole plan is going to fall apart.
He counts one, two, three beats.
“Clear,” the security guard yells, and then the door is being slammed shut. It’s another few seconds until the van starts moving, another one until Harry is breathing a sigh of relief.
“Fuck,” he says, pulling Louis’ hand away from his face. “Fuck, Lou, I–”
But his voice dies in his throat, because now that the danger has passed, he’s become acutely aware of their current position. Specifically, he’s acutely aware of all the places Louis is pressed up against him–their chest, their navel, their groins. And Louis, judging by the sudden, slack expression on his face, seems to have noticed too.
And well–fuck. Okay. So Harry’s always been crazy attracted to Louis, ever since he walked in with his loud presence and soft fringe and bright blue eyes, but he’s never acted upon it, because, well, they had the plan and Liam had explicitly told them not to have any personal relationships between them. He didn’t want them breeding any attachment, he’d said, which was why Harry had taken great care to keep his distance from Louis, to admire him, but not succumb to his attraction.
But Christ, right now, all he can think of is flipping Louis over onto his back and rawing him, marking him up and making him scream on top of all this pile of money. And judging by the way Louis’ eyes are darkening, and by the way his tongue comes out to wet his lips, he’s thinking along the same lines.
Harry’s cock begins to stir, hardening in his jumpsuit. Louis shifts–a minuscule movement, but enough to put sweet, hot pressure on his cock.
Harry’s hand tightens around Louis’ wrist. Louis’ breath shifts.
And then suddenly, there’s a bang on the side of the van and the door to the back opens.
“Get up, fuckers,” Niall’s distinct Irish voice sing-songs into the van. Harry pushes himself up to a sitting position, finds Niall standing there, sunglasses shielding his eyes. He grins when he catches sight of Harry, takes the sunglasses off his face. “It’s time to steal 2.4 billion pounds.”