take care of me // larry au

10

Louis hadn't really thought about it all, if he's being honest. It's only been a week, and yet he can't see a world outside of this room, without Harry to accompany him. And that's just weird and a bit creepy and more than a little frightening to him, because he should not be feeling something like that for a boy he barely knows.

Louis turns so he's on his back too, and then says to the ceiling, "I don't want to not see you again."

Harry chuckles. "If I gave you my number, would you actually call?"

Louis doesn't even hesitate. "Yes," He hates himself for it, because he doesn't do this, especially not with boys like Harry. "Or maybe I'll just start volunteering. Then we'd see each other all the time."

It's a joke, obviously. As soon as he's out of here, Louis has no plans to ever return to a hospital unless someone he loves is, like, dying. That is the only way. They'd have to drag him, kicking and screaming, through the doors under any other circumstances.

And yet Harry yelps out a, "No!" Louis turns to frown at him, and Harry's cheeks aren't pink anymore; they're red, and his eyes are impossibly wide. "I mean, that'd be silly. We can hang out like normal people, you know."

"I know." Louis says, still frowning.

Harry turns to him so they're facing each other again. He boldly reaches out and traces Harry's "I can't change" tattoo because he likes it, okay? He knows that the skin underneath it will feel the same way as the rest, he has enough tattoos of his own to know this, and yet it's still weird when it's not rough under his fingertips.

It's smooth and soft.

"Do you want to, though?" Harry asks, and there's something vulnerable in his eyes. "See me, I mean. You can say no, Louis. I know that sometimes you barely tolerate me."

Louis laughs because, really, Harry? He just doesn't get it. So he leans forward and brushes his lips against Harry's plump, slightly slick ones. Must be from how often he licks them. Harry makes a surprised sound, and Louis realises suddenly that he has no idea if Harry wanted to be kissed.

In fact, Harry could be completely straight for all Louis knows. He's never once said differently.

Louis is pulling back, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Harry fists a hand in his hair and pulls him back in a bit too roughly. Louis doesn't complain though. Why the fuck would he?

He's kissing Harry, and Harry's kissing him back, and he does taste like vanilla and cinnamon, or so Louis learns when he pushes his tongue against the seam of Harry's mouth.

It doesn't take Louis long to figure out that Harry has never properly been kissed before, and that more than surprises him because, really, look at him. But he's completely hesitant when Louis tries to deepen the kiss, lips parting slowly, like he's not sure what to do.

And his tongue doesn't really move when Louis brushes against it, searching for more of that vanilla taste because Louis suddenly loves vanilla. Who knew?

He pulls back, a hand on Harry's cheek, and searches his eyes. "Just let go, Harry," he says softly. "Trust me, yeah?"

Harry blinks and then nods, just once. Louis kisses him again, and this time Harry kisses him back more confidently. It's still obvious that he's overthinking it, and that he's worried that he's going to screw up. So Louis moans into his mouth to let him know that, yeah, he's definitely enjoying this, Harry, so relax.

Harry returns the moan with a needy sound of his own, one that goes straight to Louis's dick. Louis tells himself to calm the fuck down, because if Harry's never made out with someone before, he most likely does not want to have sex the first time that he does. Not that Louis hasn't thought about it all week.

Thought about Harry on top of him, forehead slicked with sweat, holding himself up with those fucking arms of his as he fucks into Louis, sometimes hard and relentless, sometimes slower and more gently.

And he's thought about fucking Harry too, watching those eyes widen when he hits that spot inside of him, biting Harry's shoulder when he comes.

And now he can't stop thinking about it, so he breaks the kiss before he comes in his pants or attempts to move things along, because he knows that Harry is not ready for that, and he doesn't want to push him into anything.

"Sorry," Louis says softly. There's a dazed, satisfied look on Harry's face. "I've sort of been wanting to do that since the first day you walked in here."

"I'm glad you did." Harry tells him, lips spreading into a smile, warming Louis to the core.

Louis can't help but grin back at him before he groans. "Look what you've done to me; I'm smiling."

"You should do that more often," Harry says to him. "I like it."

"I like you." Louis admits.

Harry snorts a laugh and says, "I may have lied about you not saying anything yesterday." Louis's eyes widen because no. No. The list of things he could have said is endless and embarassing at best, horrifying at worst. "'You like rom-coms. I like that. I like you.'"

"I didn't." Louis says flatly.

"But you did," Harry says, a lot more smug than Louis ever thought he was capable of being. "It was fairly adorable, in case you were wondering."

Louis rolls onto his back. "I'm not adorable. I'm a ball of teenage angst and moodiness."

Harry shakes his head fondly and sits up. He fixes his shirt and then crosses his legs. "Are you going to finish that sketch?" he questions.

Louis sits up too and reaches for his sketchbook. "I'm going to try," he answers while flipping it open. "As long as you don't fidget the entire time like you did before."

"I'm not making any promises."

Louis looks into Harry's eyes and figures that he'd make a million sketches if Harry asked him to, and that's terrifying.