Awkward (Narry)

v.

"Are you coming?"

"No."

Louis turns to glare at me. "Niall."

"Louis."

"Come on, lazy bum. It's the first bonfire of the semester. We have to go." He walks toward my spot on my bed, where I'm wrapped up in blankets, hiding from the reality that I read sex scenes my friend's mind thinks up. That's like watching your friend watch porn. That's definitely against the bro code. I definitely need to stop. "You were ready to go ten minutes ago. What's happened?"

"I'm sick." I cough for effect, and Louis laughs, pulling at my blankets.

"Boo, you whore."

"I'm suddenly craving Taco Bell." I joke.

"Too bad." Louis is successful in pulling my blankets from me. "I'm making you go to the bonfire. That's what I do, Niall. I make you do things. I push people. I'm a pusher."

"No, you're Louis. You're almost too gay to function." I laugh as he hits me upside the head with my The Wonders pillow (Yes, I have one. Fuck you.). Grabbing the pillow from his grasp, I whack him back, earning a yelp.

I whack him again so that he understands I mean business, and he backs up, fixing his hair. Thinking that I won the miniature war, I release the pillow and sit up. This is my mistake. Louis grabs a pillow from his own bed, tossing it and hitting me in the face. "Don't hit me with pillows, you ass."

"You hit me first!" I whip my other pillow, missing his head and letting him catch it with one hand. He sends it flying back at me, and I block myself with my arms.

"You're going to go to the goddamn bonfire, and you're going to like it." Louis states, holding up a blue pillow, threatening to throw it at me. I put my hands up in surrender and stand.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I should wield a pillow more often. It brings so much power." Louis muses, lowering his arm, tossing the pillow onto the floor- already messy, with clothes strewn about.

"How about no?" I ask, and my best friend laughs.

"You're weak."

I quirk my brow. "Is that a challenge?"

Louis rearranges his scarf and folds his arms across his chest. "Perhaps."

Surveying the room, I figure I have about two seconds of space between myself and the door, with Louis closer to it than me. I have only one option, really. Taking a step toward my friend, I prepare to bolt out of our door as quickly as I possibly can.

Louis notices my pause and shoots me a suspicious look. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. I know that look, Niall Horan. If you think-"

I don't let him continue. Instead I smack him in the crotch as hard as I can, and I rush from the door.

"Motherfuck- NIALL!"

Racing down the hallway, I can't stop laughing (or running, as Louis might catch me). I pass a few freshman who are reading a bulletin board. They turn to see what's going on as I round the corner, Louis on my heels.

"You don't smack your friends dick and fucking get away with it. Goddamn it, stop running so I can kick your ass." Louis yells at me, and I begin to have trouble breathing. Laughing and running are not two activities easily done together.

"Come on, man. We already had practice today! Quit exercising. It's disgusting. Stop."

"I'm not stopping, Lou. I don't want to get smacked in the balls." I turn to see him, jogging backwards for a few moments. He looks frustrated, and it makes me laugh harder. "Tired?"