butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

a bun-less oven

Harry's hands were awfully full.

Quite literally really, with one arm carrying the lamp he'd bought on 16th street the day before that he couldn't bother to carry up three floors to his apartment. 

But also not literally, with his mind juggling having to find a decent shirt for going out tonight (which was bothering him far too much) and also having to plan a good party for Caleb in which Cass wouldn't have to cry like last year. Caleb was her and Alex's son, who was turning three in the next few months and Harry knew he was going to end up being the non-profit party planner.

But of course he loved Caleb, so he didn't mind all that much.

"H!" He heard a voice call from behind him on the stairs, causing him to lose a bit of balance and grab onto his lamp for support.

"Cassidy, not funny at all. At all." He scolds lightly, straightening himself up and flattening down his button up with his free hand.

"Are you ready for going out tonight, then? We both know you buy lamps when you get nervous." She swung her purse teasingly.

Which was true, yet he immediately denied.

"Anyway, were leaving at six, gonna walk to Six Weeks and take the T home. Alex has Caleb tonight so we've got a Cass, Sid and Harry night just for us." She waves goodbye with a big smile on her face, leaving Harry alone on the dimly lit staircase to check his watch. This he did another 11 times before it was finally time to go, and his black skinny jeans seemed to match perfectly with his white t shirt.

It was nice not having to wear a button up or dress pants, especially in the warming late April air.

The familiar feeling of Saturday was good for a first grade teacher like Harry, he liked to be laid back and not have to be on edge all the time. But he absolutely adored those kids.

He cursed under his breath, picking up his phone again to dial Sid or Cass' number, but soon saw both girls come running down the sidewalk in front of his apartment building.

"Come one, Har, there's a guy for you out there, he's calling your name." Sid sing songs, locking all of their arms.

Six weeks was a bar about two blocks down from Harry's and Cassidy's apartments. It was quiet and not very popular, but had blue florescent lights dangling from the ceiling above the bar. There was good music that Harry usually could sing along to, even a couch so Sid and Cass could get a bit rowdy as they always do.

Cass left Harry with the usual "we'll be over there" and left to their couch by the windows.

It wasn't that he minded, he was used to being alone sometimes, and liked it at bars when he could flirt with their tatted bartender and order drinks that he really just made up in his head.

It was when he was only into a few Long Island iced teas that he started to get a little tipsy, and also when the beatific prince boy with blinding blue eyes motioned to the seat next to him.

It was all blurry, like something you'd imagine seeing in a half-dream from when you're not really asleep. Just the tanned skin and light icy blue eyes, his defined jawline and his thin and red lips.

Or possibly it was just that, a drunken half-dream, short and sweet where green met blue and "is this seat taken" meant "is your virginity taken" which he would have no to. The first one, anyway.

But instead of telling him he reminded him of the reflection the moon leaves on the lake, like the one he grew up on, he just said "no" and gulped down two more cocktails.

Louis, the prince, was puzzled at the least, as if the pause between the weird mumbling that came from the lovely lips of the princess in front of him and the little no he squeaked out wasn't enough.

"You okay, kid?" He smiled at him, shuffling his bum side to side in the leather barstool.

"Super good. Kinda lonely and drunk, but I'm good." And there was a giggle in his voice and a skip in Louis' heart.

He admired him fondly for a quick second, then shaking the little buzz from his head and grinning.

"I'm Louis, Louis Tomlinson." He wanted to hold his hand out for him to shake, but it was far too business-like for the boy in front of him. He could tell.

"Harry. Well, Harry Styles. I just don't really tell strangers my last name. I mean, but you told me yours so it's really just a return the favor sort of thing, I just-" He covers his mouth and then let's out a laugh and blushes.

"I'm rambling a bit, aren't I?" And Louis nods, but he didn't mind. He liked the sound of Harry's voice.

"So what do you do?" His voice rings again.

"I'm a journalist. I do a lot of stuff for the city paper but-" he starts.

"That's where I know your name from! You write Lou's Corner." Harry bangs a fist on the table in a fit of giggles.

"Oh dear, you're going to make fun of me now, aren't you?" Louis buried his face in his hand, but a giggle falls from Harry's lips and a nod shakes a few of his curls into his face.

"No, I love it. Read it every Tuesday before work. Drink some orange juice and eat some toast. It's a bit of a routine." He damns himself for looking at Harry so fondly, but how could he refuse himself from it as he blushes and his eyes look down to his hands that are now clasped in his lap.

"And you're a writer too, huh? I bet you're quite good." Harry smiles with his teeth for what Louis thinks is the first time.

"I dabble." Louis laughs again, and Harry can't help but follow Louis' lips with his eyes as he maneuvers them to sip from the cocktail straw.

"But anyway, you say work, what do you do then?" Louis asks, sipping again in a way that makes a slurp noise. Harry stares, again.

"I'm a first grade teacher, actually." Harry smiles again, and again after that.

"That sounds nice, really nice." Louis in his drunk state thinks of him with a little kid, with his green eyes soft and dressed in a belt and loose fitting dress pants.

"You know, we should get, like, out of here, my place is right down the street." There's air collecting in Louis' throat and his pupils feel dilated whenever his eyes fall on Harry.

"Yeah, I mean, yeah sounds okay." Harry the first grade teacher wasn't one for one night stands, especially drunken ones where he really thinks the pretty prince is wearing a crown.

By the time they've made it to Louis apartment, Harry can barely walk. Louis is struggling a bit too, but it doesn't feel wrong. It doesn't feel like a mistake, it feels like he knows his way around Louis' apartment, even when he's drunk and his eyes are still locked on his icy blue eyes.

There's paper everywhere, with scribbles and pen globs and a collection of typewriters hidden under his desk. Before he even goes for the lights their lips are completely locked together.

As soon as they're touching the air has turned to August, and the blush that had crept onto each other cheeks quickly turned to a light sweat. Despite the fact Louis was smaller, he made Harry feel as if he could mold into him, nuzzle into his chest, bury himself in the crook of his neck.

Harry pulled at the hair just above Louis' neck, causing him to grunt and cautiously bite down onto Harry's plump bottom lip.

"Shit, ugh." Louis tosses Harry onto his made bed, letting the lanky boy sink into the covers as he slowly tore of his clothes piece by piece.

"This is alright, then? You're-" Harry silences Louis with a wet kiss, and he was so glad about feeling like nothing mattered in that moment.

He knew that nothing has ever mattered like that.