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“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we do not drink and mud wrestle.  New shirt, that was.  Very nice, got it last week on a long weekend in London.  Absolute shame.”

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes at the voice cackling through his laptop’s speakers.  His half formed paper outline is staring at him on the screen, but Harry hasn’t paid it any mind in over forty minutes and if he’s being honest, he can’t really remember what class it’s for anymore.  He thinks about turning off the broadcast, just this once, for his education, but he untucks his elbows from under his torso where he’s laying belly down on his bed and reaches for his phone instead.  Nick will always win over schoolwork. 

Through his computer, Harry hears a loud rush of laughter followed by a wheeze, a sound that dimples his cheeks and flutters his heart.  His fingers squeeze around his phone for a moment while the student producer, Matt, heaves a sigh into his microphone and introduces the next track with bubbling giggles still floating in the background. 

you went mud wrestling without me? rude. you said you loved me :(

The contact on his phone is a simple salsa dancer emoji, and Harry considers changing it to something that might somehow depict mud wrestling, but the failed dancing lesson story resonates more with him.  Harry had been there for that story.  

You’re dirty enough, Harold.  Please stop distracting me from WORK.

Harry knows immediately that Matt must have sent the text, and he’s rewarded when the track ends and all he can hear is screeching and Matt chuckling into his microphone.

“He’s stolen my phone!  Matt Fincham has stolen my phone, someone please notify the police, this man has stolen my property!”

“S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted.  You’re a radio DJ, you best get DJ-ing.  Your charming boyfriend will forgive you, I’m sure.”

With a flick of his finger, Harry saves his unfinished document and closes out of it.  He’s hopeless if he thinks he’ll ever get any work done when Nick’s show is quickly spiraling out of control because of a text.  Maybe this time Fiona, the student radio director, will actually tell them off and mean it.  

“You’re no fun, Finchy.  Maybe my mum’s just texted to tell me our pet rat has finally passed.”

“You’re full of it, Grimshaw.”

“Well, considering you’re determined Harry is texting me while I’m at work when he told me he had a very important essay to write, I’ll dedicate our next track to him.  Love you, babes.  Cheers to all of my listeners suffering through our romance when we all know they’re really here for my excellent taste in music.  Here’s Drake and Rihanna with Take Care for your listening pleasure.”

Harry ducks his grin into his shoulder, cheeks flushed as he types out his response.

meet me at jav’s after class tomorrow. you deserve a lunch date for being cute.

- - - -

Nick’s nose is red tipped when he slips into the seat across from Harry at their favorite on campus coffee shop.  He unwinds the scarf from around his neck and leans forward to give Harry a peck on the cheek before slumping in his chair and all but inhaling the mocha Harry had ordered for him.

“You’re an actual angel, Harry Styles,” he says, feet kicking out to rest alongside Harry’s.

“I do my best,” Harry replies with a shrug.  “Good show last night, by the way.”

Nick lets out a rumbling laugh.  

“I woke up to five missed calls from Fifi, I’d say she begs to differ.”

“Bet you didn’t lose the slot, though.  You and I both know she loves you more than I do.  Says you’re ‘charming’ or something.”

Nick forcefully nudges his foot against Harry’s.

“Don’t be a tit, I’m proper charming and you love it,” he scoffs.  Harry chuckles into his tea.

“You didn’t fire you, did she,” and it’s not a question.  Nick deflates.

“Why are you teasing me?  I dedicated a song to you on live radio.  A solid 30 students and 2 alum heard me profess my love for you last night.”

“So sorry to have wounded your ego, love.  I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

A cheeky grin spread over Nick’s face, his hand reaching out to tangle their fingers together over the small tabletop.

“I like the way you think.  Maybe I should dedicate songs to you every show,” Nick muses.  Harry can’t help the little flutter his heart does at the thought.

“Pretty sure you’d lose listeners,” he manages through a breathy giggle.  Nick lifts one shoulder.