Summary: AU Larry Stylinson fic, based on the film Mr and Mrs Smith. Harry and Louis are highly skilled assassins, working for rival organisations. When they become each other’s targets, they must decide on their priorities.
Four out of six people in the room were armed - Aiden, Rebecca, the man with no name and Louis. Chances were that Louis’ gun only contained one bullet, intended for Harry. If Louis were to shoot Aiden then Liam and Harry would undoubtedly be shot too.
Louis flicked his gaze to Liam briefly, aware that he was running out of time. Liam made a small gesture with his leg, kicking back and moving his arm in such a way that it couldn’t be detected by the man holding his arms or by Aiden. It was enough for Louis to understand though. Though Liam didn’t work on the front line, he’d been part of his organisation long enough to know a few tricks. He’d kick back and turn in the mans grip, grab the gun and shoot the man and Aiden, giving Louis time to shoot the gun from Rebecca’s hand.
It was far-fetched and full of flaws, but it was all they had. Louis counted one, two, three on his fingers and several things happened at once.
Louis aimed and shot at Rebecca’s gun-wielding hand as Liam spun and kicked the man’s legs from beneath him. Rebecca screamed and dropped the gun as Louis lunged for it, managing to grab it as he heard Liam’s gunshot behind him, signalling his shooting of the anonymous man. Two more gunshots fired behind him and he almost breathed a sigh of relief until he felt white-hot pain flaring in his back. He heard Harry’s pained no, and looked up into huge, terrified eyes before collapsing to the floor.
He tried to keep his eyes open and stand back up, desperate to know what had happened behind him, who was alive and what would happen next. He was aware of hands on his arms and back and could only hope that they belonged to somebody on his side before he blacked out.
Harry could do nothing but watch on in horror as Louis fell into unconsciousness in front of him. His arms were still tied firmly behind his back, though he’d rubbed them raw struggling against the rope when he’d seen Aiden point the gun at Louis. Aiden had fallen to the floor just as the bullet had left his gun, next to the nameless man, a bullet through each of their hearts. Liam leaned against the wall, panting heavily and head tilted up, gun still clutched tightly in his right hand.
Zayn stepped over the now lifeless body of Aiden, Niall in tow and various members of both his and Louis’ organisations following. Zayn took in the surroundings and let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. He stepped over to Harry and took out a penknife, cutting through the ropes to let Harry’s hands free. Harry winced when he brought his arms forward, muscles aching and wrists stinging from the uncomfortable position.
He tried to twist and move over to Louis, but was stopped short by the sharp pain in his side. He tried again to get to his knees but fell back to his sitting position, unable to stop himself from crying out. If his ribs weren’t broken before then they no doubt were now, most likely from Aiden’s kick to his side. His cry was enough for Liam’s head to snap up and for him to come over, kneeling in front of him.
“It’s over,” Liam breathed, as if he needed to clarify it for himself. Harry nodded but couldn’t feel any relief. He kept his eyes fixed on Louis, unmoving but still breathing. He watched the slow, unsteady rise and fall of his back with his breathing as Niall leaned over him, pulling his shirt up to get a better look at the gunshot wound. Harry winced in sympathy when he saw it, the black bullet just to the left of Louis’ spine, ruby red blood pouring from the wound and staining his shirt. He couldn’t help the whimper that fell from his lips, the soft cry of Louis that came out of his mouth.
“Come on, Harry. You need to go to hospital,” Liam urged, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders to try and help him to his feet. Harry shook his head, eyes still trained on Louis as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. “He’s gonna be alright H. You need those ribs looking at,” Liam said more insistently this time, pulling Harry to his feet, apologising when Harry winced with the pain.
Harry didn’t have the strength to do anything but let himself be half carried from the room, noticing idly that Rebecca had managed to escape amidst the chaos. He wasn’t overly concerned - alone she had little power to do anything and Harry hoped she wasn’t one for crazy revenge schemes like Aiden had been. Liam and Harry stepped over the lifeless body of Aiden as they left the room and Harry couldn’t hold back a shudder. It was over now, as far as everyone could tell, but the idea that the man had gone to such lengths just to get a small amount of revenge made Harry’s blood run cold. It made him wonder who was left to avenge Aiden’s death.
Harry awoke the next day in a comfortable hospital bed with an ache in his side, dulled by pain medication. X-rays had confirmed a broken rib and he was prescribed strong painkillers and bed rest by a harassed looking Niall. Liam sat in a chair at the end of the bed reading, smiling up at him when he realised that he was awake.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked kindly, standing up and coming over to Harry’s side. Harry just mumbled something nonsensical, still drowsy with sleep and drugs.
“I see. I’ll take that as an I’m okay, thanks Liam,” Liam chuckled fondly.
“Where’s Louis?” Harry asked suddenly, trying to sit up but being prevented by Liam’s hand on his shoulder. “I need… just… I need to see Louis!” Harry started to panic and struggled against Liam’s hold but gave up when a sharp pain in his rib made him wince and fall back against the pillows with a sigh.
“He’s alright Harry. They gave him morphine for the pain and he’s still under. Pretty nasty injury, but he didn’t damage anything important,” Liam said reassuringly, allowing Harry to feel a semblance of relief. That’s when he noticed the dark circles beneath Liam’s eyes and the bruises on his wrists and he felt a little guilty for not asking how Liam was after all of this.
“Are you alright Liam? You look like you need a good sleep,” Harry asked and Liam smiled and pulled the chair over to Harry’s bed side, sitting down. He rubbed a hand over his face wearily, wedding ring catching the light and reminding Harry of how much the other man had to lose.
“I’m alright, I think. It just shook me up a bit, standing in that room and thinking for sure that I wasn’t gonna make it out alive. I thought that was it, you know? That I’d never see my wife, Danielle, again. That she’d have to raise our little baby all alone and for what? In all the years in this job I’ve never been that close to death.”
He’d never seen Liam look so vulnerable and he reached out to punch him lightly on the arm, an attempt to lighten the mood.
“We’re okay though, Li. We did it. You did it. Saved my bloody life, didn’t you,” Harry said bemusedly, Liam shrugging and smiling to himself. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments until Liam stood to leave, telling Harry to stay put and look after himself. Harry nodded and waited a few minutes after the door had shut before pulling himself out of bed. It hurt, the effects of the pain medication obviously beginning to wear off, but he gritted his teeth and pulled on a shirt and shoes, heading out of the room and towards the front desk where a pretty receptionist smiled at him.
“Can I help, sir?” she asked sweetly, obviously knowing that he was a patient here but not questioning him. Harry loved that about this clinic - nobody asked too many questions which meant he never had to explain why he was here with broken ribs or a fractured wrist. He reached the desk and rested his arms on it, leaning his weight against the desk to ease the pressure on his ribs.
“Could you tell me, please, which room Louis Tomlinson is in?” Harry beamed, figuring that a little flirting might help his cause. The receptionist blushed and busied herself with her computer before looking back up at him.
“What relation are you to Mr Tomlinson?”
“I’m his partner,” Harry replied, not missing the way his stomach still tightened happily at the words. The receptionist’s face fell a little before she smoothed it once again into professionalism, smiling and showing her white, white teeth.
“He’s in 6b. Just down the hall, on the left,” she added helpfully, gesturing to the corridor behind Harry. He nodded a thank you before heading towards the room that held Louis (at least as fast as his broken ribs would allow). He counted along to 6b and knocked gently before opening the door, to be met with Zayn looking up at him from his seat beside Louis’ bed.
“Hi, Harry,” Zayn said as he stood, coming over to the door. “Niall said he should wake up within the hour. Didn’t want him to wake up alone,” Zayn smiled, clapping Harry on the shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it,” he finished, walking past Harry towards the exit. Harry felt a swell of appreciation for both Liam and Zayn then - thankful that they were so concerned about himself and Louis, but that they respected that they’d want to be alone together too.
Harry made to sit in the seat that Zayn had just vacated, reaching over and taking Louis’ hand, listening to the steady rhythm of the machine that reassured Harry that his Louis was still alive. He brushed Louis’ feathery fringe from his face, kissed his forehead and sat back down to wait for Louis to come round.