your lipstick stain is a work of art » stylinson

twelve⚤

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"your hair is so curly," louis murmurs, facing harry on his lap, twiddling his hair gently, making sure not to pull it. "it's very... soft. bouncy," he adds, making harry grin at him, wanting to squeeze a pillow to his chest and scream because fond. "and look how nice your eyebrows are," he continues, which makes harry's brows furrow, ironically.

"my eyebrows?," he asks in confusion, and louis nods, poking harry right between the eyes ─ but not harsh or violently.

"yeah, you have really good eyebrows. and i bet you could cut my finger with your jawline. i could prick my finger! and look at the dimples!," he coos, sticking both of his index fingers into the creases in harry's cheek which are caused from his gigantic smile. "what are you grinning so big for?," he asks, and his lips tug up a little, and he squeaks when harry suddenly starts to tickle his sides.

"why do you think i'm smiling so big for?," he says sarcastically, playfully nibbling on louis' jaw. louis laughs a little, cries a little, and begs a little as he is assaulted by harry's fingertips on his sensitive sides. he breathes in a quick breathy laugh as harry finally quits, suddenly wrapping him up in his arms, bringing him to his chest. "i'm just happy to be with you," he whispers as answer, shaking louis from side to side like a rag doll.

"sap," louis huffs, thankful that his blush is hidden. "absolute sap," he accuses, but he squeaks again as harry gives his side another tickle. he wiggles out of harry's embrace to lean back and scowl at him, pointing a finger at him. "you better watch it, styles," he warns right as the front door opens, and he dives back into harry's neck as calum, michael, and a few members of the football team come in.

"whoa! what are you doing?," calum shrieks as they all cover their eyes, misinterpreting their interpretive positions, louis straddling harry on the couch in the middle of the day. "take it to your room ─ "

" ─ we weren't doing anything but talking!," harry interrupts, and calum stops shouting profanities, stomping his foot and rolling his eyes in dramatic relief. "what happened to playing on the pitch until five, anyways?," he asks as everyone enters the flat, and someone shuts the door after themselves.

calum squares his eyes at him. "were you planning on christening our couch?," he asks, putting both of his hands on his lithe hips, and harry huffs at him.

"no, but i was planning on cooking dinner and settling down for a movie," he says, nudging his head to indicate to louis, who is still buried in his neck. "doesn't that sound good, baby?," harry asks, rubbing his strong fingers up and down louis' spine. he's wearing a thin, lilac colored t-shirt paired with dark denim pants that ─ literally, like, literally ─ look painted on.

"we can totally still do that!," michael jumps in, coming back from the kitchen with an apple in one hand, a bag of cheetos in the other, handing the apple to calum, turning to look at harry. "what are you cooking? what movie were you planning on watching? is he okay?," he says rapid fire, and harry rolls his eyes.

he gently shakes louis' shoulder, trying to get him to come back out. "the footballers are here," louis whispers, and harry tries to look at him, but he can't see his face.

"it's okay, lou, they're good guys ─ would i associate with anyone negative?," harry asks, and louis purses his lips, tentatively shaking his head, slowly resurfacing. "it's just us and calum and michael in here, the rest of the guys are probably raiding our fridge ─ eating us out of house and home...," he says dramatically, which makes louis grin a little. "hey," harry suddenly says, looking up at a chatting calum and michael, drawing their attentions, "who all did you bring?"