#tbjzl

--

"your turn!" simon announces in a singsongy tone, a shit-eating grin on his face as he turns to you.

he's caught you staring at harry one too many times recently. noticed you looking for reasons to touch him or sit near him even more. he's clearly getting fed up with your hesitation to do anything real about your feelings for the blond boy next to you, and you're worried (and almost positive) he's about to use this polygraph test video to ruin your life.

you sigh and lift yourself up off the couch to get wired up to the machine. little do you know that harry's eyes are locked on your every move, his head tilting slightly as you walk away to stare at your bum, and simon watching him with arms crossed and an amused eyebrow raised. it's not only you simon is annoyed with, but harry as well, watching you both pine for each other and doing nothing about it. simon clears his throat loudly, snapping harry out of it, and snorting when he sees him go red with embarrassment.

after calibrating, simon goes 0 to 60 on his questions.

"do you find any of the sidemen attractive?"

you roll your eyes. here we fucking go. "what an original question to ask the only woman in the video," you sigh. "yes, I do."

the room fills with "ooh"s and laughs. "she's telling the truth," the facilitator confirms.

"is it... jj?" simon prods, knowing it's obviously not fucking jj.

"no," you respond bluntly.

"oy!" jj shouts from the couch, and everyone cackles at his offended tone. you look at him with slight pity. "you're like, really funny, mate," you comfort mockingly, adding salt to the fake wound for another round of laughs.

"is it... me?" simon jokes, a smirk on his face.

you grimace, "ew no. talia's definitely up there though," you retort, promptly looking into the camera with an exaggerated wink and a 'call me' gesture.

"watch it, mate. I hold your life in my hands," simon reminds you.

"oh no!" you pretend to look scared for the sake of the bit, but unfortunately simon didn't like that.

"is it... harold?" he interrogates, an evil glint in his eye.

you inhale sharply. part of you thought maybe he wouldn't actually go there. your eyes flicker in harry’s direction for a split second to see him watching you intently. you throw your head back and groan in frustration. "yes,” you grumble through your teeth.

everyone but harry laughs and cheers as you put your head in your hands, feeling totally exposed and sifting through all the ways you might be able to get away with murdering simon in your head.

“would you say you… fancy harold?” simon continues.

“I know where you live, simon,” you hiss threateningly.

the facilitator chimes in, "she's telling the truth."

“answer the question please,” he pressures, and you know he's not going to drop the subject.

you take a deep breath, and look back at harry. his expression is unreadable, but he locks eyes with you immediately, and the pink dusting on his cheeks is maybe a little promising?

“yes,” you finally manage, certain you’ve never been more red in your life. you’re a grown woman and you’ve been forced to tell a boy you have a crush on him in front of all your friends. you feel 12 years old all over and you want to hide in the school toilets.

“she’s telling the truth.”

“yeah we fuckin’ know, girl,” you spit at the facilitator. you will absolutely have to apologize to her later. at least everyone else finds your outburst funny, for the content or whatever.

--

"right, harry, you next.”

he sighs just the way you did, but gives you a little knowing smile as you switch places. that’s reassuring, I guess.

and big surprise: simon, ever the sociopath, immediately throws harry into the deep end.

“harry, have you ever fancied a friend?”

harry snorts, rolling his eyes. “yes, of course I have.”

“interesting. anyone I’d know?”

“...very possibly, yes.”

“I see… perhaps minishaw lives on, folks,” simon cracks, unable to resist the implication that it’s him harry has feelings for. “aside from me, of course, have you had any… dreams or fantasies, either romantic or sexual in nature, about anyone in this room? tobi perhaps?”

“ay that is actually madness, leave me out of this,” tobi comments from the couch, causing a few scattered chuckles, but most people stay locked in waiting for harry’s reply.

“you’re a right bastard, y’know that, minter?” harry asks rhetorically. simon merely hits him with that infuriating cheshire cat simper that makes harry want to punch him a little. “yes I fucking have, you lanky prick,” harry then answers.

you feel yourself starting to go pink again on the couch, dots connecting in your head. surely simon isn’t asking all these questions because harry *doesn’t* like me back… right?

“is it safe to assume that you fancy the person that you’ve had these dreams about? while you’re awake as well as when you're asleep?”

“yes,” he huffs, wishing simon would just stop torturing him.

“and am I right in thinking that this person maybe admitted to reciprocating those feelings while hooked up to a polygraph herself not…mm, six and a half minutes ago?” he digs, looking at his wrist that doesn't have a watch on it.

you and harry are both so red by now you might’ve changed the temperature of the room from searing body heat alone.

“I’m gonna kill you, simon.”

“yes or no please, harold.”

“YES, you fucking twat.”

“he’s telling the truth,” the polygraphist confirms.

harry groans into his hands, everyone else watching the events unfold with their jaws on the floor.

simon lets out a loud, celebratory laugh and throws his hands in the air. "FINALLY! and scene," he bows dramatically.

everyone looks at him incredulously, waiting for an explanation. "there was no damn lie detector video. no one does that anymore, lads. I was just sick of watching these fucking idiots drool over each other and not do anything about it," he snarks, gesturing at you and harry.

you could curl into a ball the way everyone reacts, squealing and prying and aww-ing at the two of you trying to hide your faces.

"alright, alright," josh shouts, getting everyone's attention. "let's go downstairs and you can all listen to me yell at simon for wasting our budget while these two have a wee little chat, eh?"

they all file out of the room, along with the crew, and finally the lie detector facilitator, after she frees harry from the machine.

you watch the door close behind everyone before glancing over at harry.

sighing loudly, you wave harry over. "c'mere then." he lets out a breathy laugh and strides over to sit next to you, flinging a long arm around your shoulders. you blush slightly at the contact and drop your head on his shoulder. "I feel like there'd normally need to be some kind of conversation beforehand but simon fuckin' had it for us, didn't he," you gripe, making harry snort.

"hey, at least we can kill him together, right?" he teases, gently dropping his head on top of yours. you hum in fake agreement, "ahh, now there's a date idea."

"a romantic fantasy indeed," he adds, both of you now giggling against each other. you pull back and look up at him as your hand finds his where it was planted firmly on your arm. you intertwine your fingers as you look at each other, inching closer by the second. his eyes flicker down to your lips for a fraction of a second, but long enough for you to notice. "so... 'drooling'?" you tease, a cheeky smolder on your face.

"shut the fuck up," he retorts in a low whisper, with half-lidded eyes and his own devastatingly smug grin. he's so close you can feel his words against your lips. he slowly runs a hand up the side of your face and buries his fingers into your curls, sliding the other hand around to the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer, finally kissing you now there's physically no space left to keep teasing you with.

his plush lips warm and soft against yours, you quickly lose track of where your body stops and where his begins. he gently pushes you onto your back and climbs over you, his tongue hot and sweet against yours as your hands glide up his strong back and disappear into his messy hair.

as much as you didn't want to, you managed to tear yourselves apart after a few minutes. you could've stayed there for hours, but neither of you could handle any more embarrassment or attention from your friends today. harry took you by the hand and pulled you off the couch, kissing you on the cheek. "shall we face the storm then?"

sighing, you squeeze his hand. "let's do it."

turning to leave, you notice the polygraph is still there. you walk over to it, wondering why the facilitator wouldn't have taken it with her. "it's unplugged," harry notes.

you pick up the cord to prevent anyone tripping over it, and harry's natural curiosity leads him to poke around the equipment for a moment. "what the FUCK," he yells suddenly, making you jump.

you look over at him, where he's holding the machine, staring at the text on the underside of the base:

FILM PROP - NOT A REAL TEST.

--