Right Where You Want Me (A Larry Stylinson fanfiction)

Chapter eighteen: Where This Goes

Harry:

   "He's probably the closest thing to perfect," I whispered, leaning against the doorframe to my bedroom. Gemma was standing beside me as we looked into my room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "He has to be."

It was early – 7:01am, to be exact. Mum had woken the both of us up early so we could get started on cooking dinner for Christmas, but I'd begged her to save Louis the trouble. First of all, he wasn't a morning person by any means. Second of all, he couldn't cook to save his life. Third of all, he was our guest.

Louis was sprawled out on the bed that he and I had originally shared, but as soon as I'd gotten up, he'd taken the liberty to spread out. He was snoring soundlessly, my bed sheets covering his small frame and half of his head. He was cocooned in the blankets, looking like an angel.

"He is pretty cute," Gemma reasoned, smiling tiredly. "I've got to admit, you guys are pretty adorable."

I grinned, running a hand through my hair. "You think so? How?"

My sister shrugged. "He's just so...tiny, even though he's older than you. You're always pulling him around – like you did when you left upstairs last night." She looked up at me. "If you really fancy him, why don't you ask him out?"

I pressed my lips together. I knew I could tell Gemma anything. She wasn't as annoying as I generally made her seem. "I don't want to mess anything up. Like, if something were to happen, I don't want to not be with him anymore." I kept in mind that this had already happened once. "I like how it is now. I don't want to rush it, because, honestly, in every part of my future, I see him in it, and I want that to last."

Gemma raised her eyebrows. "You think you'll be with him for...like, forever?"

I sighed and smiled. I hadn't pondered the subject much, and I was only sixteen. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll see where this ends up."

"Works for me." Gemma yawned, staring at her fingernails. "What were you guys doing last night? I heard a bunch of counting."

I blushed. Not looking at her, I kept my eyes on Louis, my precious Louis, as he turned over on his stomach. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. "You were supposed to be asleep, Gem," I said slowly. "It was midnight."

"Well, maybe I would've been if I didn't hear you guys counting. What were you doing?" When I hesitated, Gemma added, "You have ten seconds to answer before I run off and tell Mum that you were doing inappropriate things."

"It was his birthday!" I hissed. "We were counting how old he'd turned!"

"It was his birthday? On Christmas Eve? What years were you counting – how old he is? Why?"

"Yes!" I whispered loudly, huffing. I directed my eyes to my feet, embarrassed. "I was doing the thing where you punch him for every year he's been alive. Except I was...I was kissing him."

"Oh! My God, Harry, kissing him? Nineteen times?"

"Twenty," I corrected. "One for good luck. And then...we sort of didn't stop."

"Harry!" Gemma said loudly. "That's inappropriate enough! You weren't, like, all over each other, were you?"

"Eh..." I remembered how Louis had slipped his cold hands up my shirt and around to my back, whilst mine felt around his hips.

"Harry!" Gemma smacked my arm, scoffing disapprovingly. I shushed her, covering her mouth with my cupped hand.

"Hush!" I exclaimed. "You'll wake Louis!"

I looked towards the bed, jumping when I met Louis' wide open, bright blue eyes. He was curled up on his side, still wrapped in the white covers. His whole body was still shielded, with the exception of his face.