Imprisoned In My Heart: A Larry Stylinson Fanfic

25.

Louis was wandering aimlessly down the corridor when someone slammed into the back of him, knocking him quite literally to the ground. He landed with a yelp on the floor, and found that he was being pinned to the ground – and his thoughts went instantly to the little yellow button that was certainly too far away to press. Besides, no guards were posted outside his office door anymore; everyone loved him, and nobody seemed to have any concerns that he would be attacked. Yet clearly the security shouldn’t have been relaxed, because someone was holding him down firmly on the floor so that he had no room to maneouvre and barely enough space to breathe.

Before he could open his mouth and start yelling, lips touched his neck, and a familiar warm mouth started exploring his collarbone, his jaw, the back of his neck, his cheek…hands tugged impatiently at the collar of his shirt as his assailant scrabbled for access to his back.

“You scared the life out of me!” Louis scolded, relaxing in an instant.

Harry laughed quietly. “Sorry. I was just excited.” Slipping off Louis’ back, he reached for his boyfriend’s hand and helped him to his feet, fondly brushing dust off his shirt with a sheepish grin.

“Right,” said Louis cheerfully, putting an arm around Harry’s waist, worriedly withdrawing it, and then making a resigned sound and slipping it back again. “Was there any particular reason why you decided to jump on me?”

“Oh, yes.” Harry’s eyes danced with joy. “Can we step into your office, Mr. Tomlinson?”

“Absolutely not,” Louis teased, taking Harry’s hand. “Of course we can, you fool. You still think you need to ask?”

“Well, it is your office,” Harry pointed out as he pushed the door open and slid inside, pulling Louis after him. He slapped the wall, switching the light on, then twisted sharply so that he was pressed against Louis’ chest, their interlocked fingers trapped between them. “You need somewhere to keep your packets of chocolate Hob Nobs. Which you still owe me, by the way.”

“Consider it a joint ownership,” Louis offered, grinning at him. “My heart – and my biscuits – are yours.”

Harry kissed him in response, and they stood together for a while, lips moving gently together. Louis swayed almost dizzily, and Harry chuckled, releasing his fingers to place a supportive hand on Louis’ spine. He had refined his kissing technique in the few weeks they had spent together: gone were the days of messy tongue-tangling, replaced by the kind of kissing expertise that made Louis’ stomach swoop at the slightest touch. Harry’s fingers brushed his arm, lingering on his wrist, and they did that for a while. One of Harry’s hands was still behind his back, unseen, although Louis didn’t it pay much attention.

“Right,” he managed breathlessly when they eventually separated. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

A slow pause, Harry’s face lighting up with a perfect grin, his green eyes sparkling as he hesitated for effect, linking their fingers together again. Eventually, when Louis thought he might go mad with suspense, Harry brought a crisp white sheet of paper out from behind his back and waved it under Louis’ nose with a thrilled expression on his face. Frowning slightly, not understanding, Louis let his eyes skitter quickly down the official-looking document, skimming through it in confusion. He was just about to ask Harry what exactly he was supposed to be looking at, when his breath stuck in his throat and he choked, his lungs constricting as he tried to remember how to breathe, couldn’t seem to remember, and felt his heart stuttering and fear shivering through him like ice in his veins in case this was some kind of wind-up.

At the bottom of the paper, in huge red block-capitals, screaming out at them so Louis could barely believe it had taken him so long to notice it, was stamped ‘BAIL GRANTED’ in huge, slightly smudged scarlet lettering.