Larry Stylinson ~ Poor Little Rich Boy AU

“Yeah, but…what is it?”

“It’s absolutely brilliant,” she repeated brightly, violently shaking the enormous jar so that the tickets were wildly jostled around. “We were ever so lucky to get it. There were some very generous sponsors this year!”

“What is it, though?”

The girl had gone off on a tangent; he’d lost her. “It’s an excellent charity case,” she assured him earnestly; “it’s the best prize ever! I bought twelve tickets, I’m so desperate to win! Oh, trust me, you’ll absolutely love it! Go on, pick a ticket – you won’t regret it!” She aggressively brandished the jar right underneath Louis’ nose.

“Right, fine!” Louis snapped impatiently, plunging one hand in almost up to the elbow. Quickly withdrawing a ticket, he dropped several coins into the palm of her hand, shoved the jar back at her and then thrust the ticket into his pocket without looking at it. “Thanks. Bye!” Turning around, he grabbed Stan’s arm and hauled him off into the crowd.

“Wait!” called the girl. “I didn’t tell you what the prize is yet!”

But Louis had already vanished into the crowd, and he didn’t hear her faintly irritating voice calling after him.

They found Hannah by the liquor stall, looking around for them and critically checking every single bottle to work out which one she wanted, and which ones were actually within a reasonable proximity to her budget. Her long nails tapped on the bottles as she ran her fingers over them, like she could taste the wine through the cool glass.

With an enormous, goofy smile unfurling across his face like a flag, Louis announced his arrival by yelling “All right, tossers, what’s occurring?!” at the top of his lungs, and causing everyone within a hundred metre radius to flinch at the assault on her ears. Everyone, of course, except for the blonde girl he had directed his yell towards.

“About time!” Hannah yelled, and Louis grinned as he pushed past an obese, sweaty, glaring man, who had been hovering around eyeing both Hannah and the bottles in equal measure. Louis grabbed her by the arms and kissed her jokingly on both cheeks.

“Ah, Hannah. Lovely as ever. Now –” he clapped his hand briskly together “ – did you manage to get the goods?”

“Working on it,” she promised, “Niall’s putting that pretty little face of his to some use and trying to haggle, but I don’t know if it’s doing any good.”

Louis nodded and banged Hannah cheerfully on the back in a matey way. They’d dated briefly a couple of years ago (well, Louis called it briefly; most people argued that eight months was hardly brief, but it had flown by in a heartbeat) until they’d chosen to split over their differences, which mainly involved Louis’ inordinate interest in anything that was male and had either a pulse or a nice backside – but they were still mates, and good ones at that; his friendship with Hannah could only be rivalled by his friendship with Stan. Or his relationship with alcohol. Still, he was comfortable enough with her to be able to treat her like one of the guys, which was what Hannah liked – she liked her nail-polish and eyeliner, but she also liked the opportunity of being able to replenish them on a regular basis, whenever her rough play-fighting with the guys got her into a mess. She was great.

“Whoa, man!” Niall protested loudly, “you’re joking! That’s never a fair price; never ever!”

That was Louis’ cue – he edged past Hannah and started bounding towards where Niall stood, hotly arguing with the man on the stall who was refusing to lower his prices for anything. As he turned to begin backing Niall up, a clear, amplified voice rolled across the busy square, bouncing off the walls.