butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

nine, week 15

Now that Harry and Louis shared a place, it was becoming a lot harder for them to resist one another.

Harry knew he would maybe have the self control to leave once the baby was born and maybe his heart wouldn't race every time he saw Louis, hell, even heard him or smelled him (his scent quite resembled spearmint and crisply printed book paper, something that suited him quite perfectly.)

Harry figured he smelled like bread and laundry detergent. Louis had told him this once before, and he thinks of it often.

Harry was so new at having a roommate, he didn't even have one in school. He quite enjoyed the domestic aspect of it. He loved doing Louis' laundry, admiring his white t shirts for under his work shirts and band t shirts that he knew Louis loved to lounge in on Sunday's when they would watch The Wedding Singer and dance around to the soundtrack while Louis cooked dinner.

Louis, on the other hand, and was quite used to living with another person. In college, he roomed with a boy named Niall, a culinary arts major at The University of Chicago. Both were soccer players for the school, causing them to be great friends. They even lived together in Louis' apartment for a while after school, before Niall moved in with his girlfriend.

Niall was actually the one who taught Louis how to cook.

The large penthouse had its own laundry room, which Harry currently idled in.

"H!" Louis called, roaming around with mail in his hand searching for the pregnant boy. His hair was messy from the past nights sleep.

He slept much better when Harry was in his bed (but he was positive it didn't mean anything, it was just more comfortable.)

The serene night sleep was one of many positives of living with Harry.

Louis' favorite was the singing.

The most popular for Harry was John Mayer, sometimes a little Matt Nathanson or even Ray Charles and Jack Johnson. There were several, but Harry was one to pick favorites.

And quite frankly, Louis hadn't been that fond of John Mayer, ever, actually, not until he saw Harry dance to Gravity with a pile of Louis' laundry in his arms in a pair of tight shorts and his favorite white t shirt. He'd smile through the chords, giggling as he took the gallon of milk from the fridge and occasionally the Hershey's chocolate syrup for a glass of chocolate milk.

Louis especially loved when Harry would sing, not to any background music like usual, but when they watched Fever Pitch or Pretty in Pink and Harry knew the songs coming next. 

Sometimes, when Louis would play with Harry's hair to help him to sleep, or when Harry was laying on the couch on his phone, cuddling calmly with Mark, he would sing also. He'd sing the bridge to himself, twisting his ring and rubbing Marky's tummy.

As Louis climbed up the steps to the laundry room, Harry peeked his head out of the archway, smiling sweetly.

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked.

Once again Harry couldn't help but swoon at the sight of Louis in his work casual attire, his new gray pair of slacks and black shirt. The waning August heat was still pretty overbearing, but it wasn't so bad to Louis.

"Just letting you know that I'm headed to work." Louis tapped on the doorframe on his way out and smiled crookedly, eyeing Harry, who happily slaved over the washer (he gets quite bored every summer, leaving him doing things like grocery shopping and cleaning.)

"Oh! And I fed Mark, so you don't have to." Louis remarked before he could forget.

"Okay! See you! Write about me!" Harry called as Louis walked away. Louis' heart skipped a beat at the thought of writing a column today.