Harry checked his hair in the chrome of his oven. He smoothed his palm over his blown back fringe, his hair taller and rounder than usual, waves brushing the middle of his neck. He dusted off his shoulders, pinching the corners of his jacket collar.
He tilted his head and blinked. He couldn't tell if it was the warp of the metallic surface or if his head was actually that much larger than his neck. Maybe it was his hair? There was a knock at the door before he could get out a ruler.
His black boots clicked on the floor. He walked with crooked steps, his hands occupied by the knot of his black tie. He gave his tie one more tug and pulled the door open.
"Hello, handsome."
Harry looked up from his tie, his mouth falling and his eyes squinting.
Louis stood in his doorway with his hands on his hips, his smile mischievous. He took one step closer and reached upwards. He tugged the knot of Harry's tie once, smoothing his palm down his tie until he hit his buttoned suit jacket. He thumbing over the collar of his shirt before smoothing his palms up the fronts of his shoulders.
"Aren't you looking stunning this evening? Nice pocket square." Louis flattened his hand over Harry's heart. "I like the contrast." He glanced lower, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, nice. You wore the new boots. They look amazing on you."
Harry tried to remember what contrast meant, and how it related to his all black formal attire with a small white pocket square. He spent his days turning frosting from the lightest to the darkest shade of each colour. He made cookies and cakes shaded in only black and white. And yet, if quizzed about the definition of contrast, or even the definition of boots, his only answer would be nothing but babbled nonsense.
Louis was covered in material, but Harry stared at him as if he was standing naked in the doorway. Tight black suit trousers clung to his thick thighs, the tapered material ending before his bare ankles and pointed-toe black shoes. A slim cut jacket dipped in enough at his waist to emphasize the bloom of his hips and the flatness of his stomach, his collar a shinier, silky black material. His white shirt gave his tan skin a flushed glow, his thin black tie serving as a blinking red arrow to his face.
When Harry did not move, Louis' lips curved into a small smile.
"Are you going to invite me in?" He crossed his arms over his chest, the shift of his hips only drawing more attention to the slope of his lower back. "I thought I was going out with a gentleman tonight?"
"Oh, yes, please. Please, come in."
Harry reached forward to grasp Louis' hand, but his feet misread his brain's signal and stepped backwards, his large feet tripping over themselves. Louis caught him around the waist, swinging him upright.
"Jesus, sorry," Harry let out a squeaked noise and tried to find Louis' face among the swirling walls, "sorry, uh--"
Louis held him snug to his body, one hand gripping the back of Harry's black jacket with his other hand flattened on his flushed cheek. Harry exhaled a quieter, weaker noise, the sound swallowed by soft, insistent lips, Louis' arm hugging Harry tighter around the waist. Harry hummed into the sudden, heated suck, his hands settling on Louis' arse.
Harry pulled back all of an inch to pant, "You look amazing. Beautiful. So beautiful."
He kissed Louis again, his feet more firmly on the ground. He felt Louis smile, both breaking the kiss to press their cheeks together.
"Fuck, just..." Harry tightened his arms, Louis doing the same. They shared an appreciation for a good, long hug. He whispered, "You're always perfect, but you look..."
