Infatuated ( l.t.+ h.s.)

chapter 6

Harry was currently showering in Louis' bathroom down the hall.

Now give him a minute to explain. Harry's mom only lets Harry take five minute showers- because that women was a nut and thought that timing her son with a stopwatch like he was a runner and not just a boy trying to get clean was appropriate.

So when Harry comes inside all muddy from playing football outside in the rain, Louis quite literally drags him inside his flat. He had grass stains on his knobbly knees and dirt smeared on his cheek and his wet shorts were sticking to his thighs and Louis thought he was rather lovely. But also rather dirty and in need of a proper washing.

But now he's regretting that descion.

Because how is he supposed to sit inside the living room, listening to the sound of running water and imagining Harry bare underneath the spray. The water sliding the mud off and sending it swirling down the drain, revealing pale, porcelain skin underneath. All that's seperating them from each other is a door and one flimsy shower curtain. Just one simple walk down the hallway. 

Louis is trying very hard not to imagine the things he'd like to do to Harry against the tile wall. This tactic is failing him, and Louis is kind of laying on the carpet floor in heated agony. He once heard that eating an entire raw potato helps calm people down when they're- well, you know.

Which will explain why he's standing in front of the open fridge, staring at the large potato sitting on the shelf. Wisps of ice are leaking out around him as he has a face off with the brown vegetable. He's literally bracing himself to do it, reaching forward to just grab the god damn potato and eat it like an apple, when Harry walks in. Louis promptly releases the potato and vows to never think to do that again.

Okay, Harry more like trips in. He had helped himself to a pair of Louis' sweats and a tshirt. The boy is practically swimming in all the fabric, and the pants are too long and get tangled at his feet his feet. His hair is wet and skin is pink from the warm water and he smells like lavender soap.

"Louis," Harry says, and Louis loves how he says his name, stressing the Lou. "You have this strange thing in your shower. It looks like a giant noodle."

Louis blushes. "It's a loofah."

"What's a loofah? I like the name. Loofah."

"You use it to like, wash with."

"Oh. Okay- well, I'm sorry, but it's sort of stuck to your ceiling at the current moment."

And Louis goes into the steamy bathroom and finds that yes, Harry did somehow manage to get his loofah stuck to the ceiling. They both peer up at it for a moment.

"Wow." Louis marvels, and then because the world was seemingly always in his favor, the loofah drips soapy water right into his eye and blinds him for a good minute. All he can feel is burning lavender pain and listen to the sound of Harry hysterically laughing.

Harry is still giggling after Louis rinses out his eyes is brushing Harry's hair in front of the tele. This may also seem weird, because it probably is. Louis doesn't even know what's considered weird anymore.

Harry's hair gets very tangly when wet, all knotted curls and what not, and he has trouble brushing it. So he's sitting inbetween Louis' legs on the floor eating icecream, while Louis sits on the couch above him and patiently works a wide toothed comb through the wet mess of hair. Harry's body occassionally shakes with random bouts of laughter as he recalls Louis stumbling about and almost falling into the tub.

Harry sucks vanilla icecream off the end of his spoon and looks up at Louis, who is busy untangling a particularly bad knot. "Are we dating?"

Louis feels the world stop spinning on its axis for a second. "Did you just ask if we're dating?"