Stuck with Lou ✔️

Chapter 9

"Harry?" Louis says late that night, when Harry's finally woken up. How he manages to sleep so much Louis will never know.

"What?" Harry says distractedly. He's very focused at this moment, trying to see who has longer hair, so, he's currently very busily trying to find the longest bit of Louis' hair.

Harry Styles does weird things at 3am.

"What are we?" Louis asks. 

"Humans. Mammals. Homo sapiens." Harry replies, cheering triumphantly when he successfully finds the longest piece of hair.

Louis turns around, causing Harry to huff. "No you dumb fuck." Louis says, hitting him. "Like- what are we. As in us."

"Males." The wanker replies, searching for the bit of hair again. Louis bats him off.

"No- like. Me and you. What are we?" Louis says, biting his lip.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lou." Harry says.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about! You call me pet names. You're in my bed. We cuddle, we fuck, we snog. That- what is that?" Louis says, and Harry blinks.

Once.

Twice.

"Um. Why. Why do we have to label it? I like you and you probably like me and we're happy with our relationship... Why put a label on it?" Harry says, lying down on his stomach. His face is buried in Louis' pillow.

"Don't- don't you want a label?" Louis asks, absently massaging the knots of tension from Harry's broad back, smirking slightly at the loud groan Harry lets out.

"What I'm hearing is that little Loubear is confused and wants to label it so little Loubear can blame big Hazzabear for all of little Loubear's problems." Harry says, lifting his head to look at Louis over his shoulder.

"Why am I little and you big." Louis says.

"Cause you're short." Harry replies.

"I'M NOT SHORT YOU WANKER!" Louis yells dramatically, climbing onto Harry and sitting there, effectively pinning the taller to the bed. 

Harry grinds his ass back against Louis' groin, and Louis slaps him. 

And then Harry does something completely unexpected.

He fucking MOANS.

Louis freezes, and Harry doesn't even know what he did. Louis (experimentally) slaps him again, and this time Harry moans, then throws Louis off of him, and climbs out the window.

His shoes are still discarded on Louis' floor, his shirt rolled up at the foot of the bed, one of his socks tangled in the sheets. And it's raining. Louis watches Harry run down the street barefooted and shirtless in the rain, and ignores the pang of guilt and longing. 

He watches Harry get drenched, and the idiot just keeps running. 

And then Louis shuts the window and goes to sleep.

***

"Morning, mum." Louis says, ambling downstairs. It's 6:30am. And Louis does not want to be awake.

"Hey, Louis. Does Harry want breakfast?" His mother asks cheerfully.

"Oh, no. He climbed out the window at 4am and ran home barefooted and shirtless in the rain." Louis says, yawning and collapsing on a chair at the table.

"Why on earth would you let him?" His mother exclaims.

"I'm not in charge of the fucker." Louis replies. 

His mother rolls her eyes, and glares at him. "That's a horrible attitude, Louis."

Just then, there's a knock at the door. 

Lottie answers it, and she yells down the hall. "LEWIS. IT'S THE CURLY HAIRED FUCKER YOU DO IT UP THE ASS WITH." 

His mother laughs, but tries to hide it. Lottie leads an absolutely fucking drenched, still shirtless, still wearing one sock, shivering Harry. 

"What the fuck happened to you?" Louis says, and his mother snorts in contempt.

"I- I- I f-forgot my h-house key- and c-came back h-h-here to g-get i-it. A-and your w-w-window was closed- and you w-weren't answering and I- I knocked the d-door and no one answered so- so I hid in your sh-shrubbery..." Harry says, teeth chattering. 

"Were your parents not home, dear?" Jay questions, and Harry shakes his head.

She points towards the stairs. "Go get warm, Harry. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Harry looks surprised, at how motherly she's being. He goes upstairs, and Louis' mother ushers him up the stairs as well.

"Get him new clothes." She says.

"DON'T FUCK IN THE SHOWER!" 

"CHARLOTTE!" Jay reprimands, pushing Louis up the stairs. 

He follows Harry. 

"Th-this is your fault, T-Tomlinson." Harry stutters.

"I'm not the idiot who crawled out of the fuckinf window at 4am in the rain." Louis rolls his eyes. 

"You k-know why I did it." Harry calls, going into the bathroom, Louis hears the shower start, and he leaves a change of clothes for Harry and goes downstairs.

***

Harry gets sick, and of course, stays at Louis' house for the entire week. Louis comes home every day to a shirtless Harry on his bed, surrounded by tissues and watching Netflix on Louis' laptop (how the dickhead got his password, he'll never know.)

His nose is red, and Louis keeps jokingly calling him Rudolph. Every time, Harry flips him off.

It's funny, because the team keep joking about Louis not having to see Harry, yet he comes home to find Harry every day. In his bed. What a strange year this has been, Louis ponders rather often.

It's the third day of Harry being sick (a Thursday, Harry got sick on the Monday. So.) and he finds Harry asleep, the laptop carelessly tossed to the side, slightly open. Louis picks it up.

And. And. And. And. And.

Woah. 

Just-

Woah.

Why?

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harry." Louis' eyes have widened comically.

Harry was fucking watching gay porn. And there's cum on Louis' bed. Harry's cum. On Louis' bed. 

Harry jacked off to porn on Louis' bed. While the porn was playing on his laptop. What a wonderful mental image. 

Louis can't take this.

Jesus motherfucking Christ.

He pokes Harry with his foot, and the boy startles awake.

"Loueh?" He mumbles sleepily, and why is Louis suppressing the urge to coo and aww and tie the adorable boy on his bed up in a cute little pink ribbon. 

Louis must be on drugs or some shit (maybe the apples that Coach Corden gave them were drugged. Louis wouldn't be surprised, honestly) because he just fucking- found Harry Styles cute. 

Jesus.

"Why were you watching porn on my laptop?"