teacups for the wine

5

Louis is pissed. Well, he's pissed as a kitten is when it's cold. The thing is, he's cold. It's one of the more annoying aspects of being an omega on suppressants. It's like bloody punishment from his biology for wanting to keep his senses and not fall on any alpha's lap every time his heat is around. He pulls the fuzzy blanket tighter around him, cursing his stupid biology and stupid Harry not seeing that he likes him. Does he not understand that Louis wants to kiss him?

He still remembers how he had woken up all cold and alone on his couch at the crack of dawn, finding Harry gone and that throw blanket gently wrapped around himself. He had not been happy and had probably prayed for Harry to fall into a pit. Not now though. Now he wants to not take his suppressants, let his heat take its course and have Harry fuck him seven ways into Sunday through it.

"Stupid alpha should live in trees and eat fucking pinecones, so bloody stupid. He's lucky he's beautiful otherwise he would have had to do that, goddamn idiot," he grumbles, sniffling.

He's not particularly a needy person but he appreciates cuddles and after what he put himself through with Harry, with stealing his clothes and that time they cuddled for God knows how long, he's been having a harder time maintaining his sanity. He's never needed a touch as much as this before and that makes him even madder. Harry Styles is a goddamn fool.

It's a soft heat, he realises as he is flipping through his list of movies marked 'want to watch' on Netflix. The doorbell rings and half of him wants to stay in and not make a noise until the person goes away. But of course, his mum raised him well and he doesn't do shit like that.

"Who is it?" he hollers.

"It's uh Harry! I made too many cookies," Harry's voice rings out from the other side of the door and Louis is all for it.

"The key is under the gnome with the mushroom head! Let yourself in," he yells, stuffing the shirt of Harry's he's been using as a cover on a cushion into the fold of the sofa. The lock on the door clicks and Harry walks in. He looks perfect, with his hair grown a little longer and his dazzling green eyes.

"You should really be careful about whom you tell all this to. Might be a good idea to change the place you keep the key, Lou," he says as he walks in but Louis could care less at this point. Harry smells like all things beautiful, things Louis wants to steal and keep locked up in jars so he could have them forever. He hums, seemingly agreeing with whatever Harry's saying. "Are you okay, Lou? Feeling a bit off or ill?" he asks and Louis would let Harry take him right there. The suppressants take away the incessant urge to be filled with a knot but it doesn't sound too bad with Harry. How can one man encompass this much perfection is honestly beyond him.

"Just a little ill, it'll pass by. You brought cookies you were saying?" he fibs, staring at the floor.

"Is it a fever? You wouldn't know, I'll check." He puts his hand on Louis' forehead and yes, he is running quite warmer than usual because of his suppressed heat. "You're so warm! Are you sure you're feeling okay? I'm gonna make you some tea and get a soup started. Do not touch the cookies," he rambles and Louis grabs his arm, quite flushed and embarrassed.

"You don't have to do anything like that. Just sit, relax," he says softly.

"At least let me make you tea, for now, Lou. You're running a fever," he insists, politely declining Louis' offer and who is Louis to refuse his...no an alpha who is so charming? And besides, having to explain to Harry that it is not a fever but a heat makes Louis want to crawl into the ground.

"Now, I've got the soup done and warm in your dutch oven on the stove so don't look in the fridge. There's hot water in the kettle so you can drink as much warm water with lemon and honey as you can okay?" Harry says as he comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the apron he's got tied around his waist. Who knew Louis' old gingham apron would look so good on him?

"Really, Harry, you didn't have to do all but thank you. How will I ever repay you? First fake boyfriend and now this?" he chuckles lightly and Harry just fondly shakes his head. Louis' biggest achievement if you ask him, this year, is that Harry is not upset at him anymore.

"Hey, I gotta take care of my fake boyfriend when he's sick, that's a rule of fake dating," he laughs, sitting down beside Louis and the apron goes on the floor.

"Really? What other rules do you know of fake dating?" he asks, an amused smirk on his lips.

"Well, I have to give you any extra cookies I make, always check up on you every day and do you need me to stay here tonight in case your fever goes up? You're still very warm you know? And don't worry, this falls in the fake dating booklet." He's serious about the last part and Louis knows it. And he knows he's being awfully selfish and horrid by what he knows he's going to say but he's selfish and he wants Harry only to himself.

"Only if you can, Haz. I don't wanna keep you from anything. Besides, Dusty is still at home isn't she?"

"I can stay, no problem. She'll be fine, her bowl is full of kibble and her litter box was cleaned just three hours ago," he says matter-of-factly as if he is upset with how spoiled his cat is but Louis knows just how much he loves Dusty.

"Oh? She must be having the time of her life then, now that you're not bothering her," he says playfully and Harry just pokes his arm.

"You're saying I'm annoying then? I literally made you soup and now I'm watching The Proposal with you!"

"I see what it is, it's a ruse. You do nice things to play off how bothersome you are."

"Call it what you want, dear omega," he says in a voice that makes Louis want to throw himself at him. Harry, however, goes quiet. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have called you that. I don't know, I'm never like this shit say something I'll leave now, I'm so sorry," he blabs and Louis just looks at him with adoration. He takes Harry's hand in his own.

"I didn't mind it, I know you're not that kind of alpha," he says, looking up at Harry with widened eyes. He remembers his year eleven boyfriend telling him that he's got 'Marry me and fill me with your pups' eyes and he hopes to God they're working right now. He's staring at Harry's lips and then back at his eyes. He sees Harry do that for a few moments as well, even leaning in a bit. Anticipation pools in his stomach and he closes his eyes, waiting for a pair of lips on his own. But then Harry suddenly pulls away, face flushed. He takes away his hand that Louis was holding.

"I uh should go, Dusty needs to be um fed. Take care of yourself, I'll come by with broth tomorrow morning," he says, getting up in a haste and Louis chooses not to point out that only a few minutes ago, Harry had told him that Dusty's bowl was full. Instead, he chooses to lie there in his hurt and dejection, watching Harry go out of the door.

He waits till he is sure Harry is out of earshot before bursting into tears. He'd put himself out completely and yet, Harry, being a perfect gentleman, rejected his advances. "Why won't you like me?" he sobs, burying his face in the shirt he dug out of the crevices of the sofa where he had shoved it in hours ago.