Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

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"Louis-"

"Is it alright if Harry stays here tonight since he found out his girlfriend is cheating on him with Niall and he shares a place with her but now he doesn't want to talk to her so he has nowhere to go and I kind of took a car with him here already?" Louis breathes out so quickly that he's not even sure if Eve could make out anything he's just said. 

"What?"

"Thanks!" and then he hangs up.

Eve calls back about five seconds later, but Louis turns his phone off and carelessly throws it somewhere when Harry walks back into the room. Louis forces a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and pretends to be leaning against the wall.

"So? What did she say?" Harry asks, perching on the edge of the sofa and fucking folding his hands all proper and polite. Louis can't help but ogle at his thighs for a second, and when he looks back up at Harry's face all he gets is a knowing look that makes him want to vanish into thin air. 

"She's absolutely ecstatic to have you," Louis lies smoothly. "I'm hungry. You?"

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but the grumble of his stomach interrupts him and he giggles like a child. A child. Even after the entire day's events, here they are, giggling. "Yes."

"Pizza? I know this amazing place," Louis trails off, because he already knows Harry will gladly agree to pizza. He's walking into the kitchen and rustling around for the takeout menu from the pizza place down the block. He hears Harry's footsteps against the floor and suddenly there's a pair of hands pushing him to the side carefully.

"Pizza is great," he pauses. "But I was thinking we could make it ourselves?"

Louis thinks for a second before he laughs out loud. It's a genuine laugh, and Louis covers his mouth to stifle the noise as Harry's smile turns into a pout. "Sorry, but. Us? Make a pizza?"

"Yes!" and then; "C'mon, Louis! We can do it. It's not that hard!"

"Yeah, well, we can barely manage to make toast together. Remember last time?" Louis snorts with laughter, but Harry doesn't tease him; instead he lets out a laugh of his own. Louis doubles over, resting his head on Harry's chest as his body shakes with laughter. "Set the whole fuckin' toaster on fire."

"We did not," Harry protests. "But we did burn the bread to a crisp."

"There were definitely flames at some point," Louis argues, pushing himself away from Harry and smiling so widly that his face literally hurts because the memories are so fond. 

"The bread was completely black," Harry says instead. Louis pokes his tongue out at him, but he allows Harry to roam around until he's got flour, baking powder, cheese, sauce, and a variety of measuring cups, liquids, and vegetables all lined up on the counter. 

"I didn't even know we had so many different colors," Louis muses, holding up a green bell pepper. Harry plucks it from his hand and puts it right back where it had been before.

"Don't touch anything yet, you need to wash your hands," he tuts. Louis rolls his eyes, but he obliges after a few seconds of Harry pointing sternly to the sink. 

Halfway through the dough-making process (Louis had insisted on watching Harry instead of helping), Harry realizes that he's in desperate need of olive oil. After a few minutes of searching, the pair determined that they were indeed out of the oil, and ten minutes later Louis finds himself driving down to a supermarket.

Louis is wandering aimlessly throughout the place. It's small and barely anyone is around, so he takes his time examining each and every bottle of oil. None of them seem to be the right kind. He glances down at the name of the oil Harry had instructed him to buy via text message as if that will magically make the bottle he's searching for appear directly in front of him.

"Do you need some help?" a voice asks. Louis jumps and drops his phone, placing a hand over his chest as he lets out a soft chuckle. However, his breath is taken away again when he turns around. 

There's an attractive - no, beautiful boy standing there smiling sheepishly at Louis as he shoves his previously dropped mobile into his back pocket hastily. The boy has mussed dark brown hair and fringe falling over his forehead. Light brown eyes poke from underneath the hair along with full lips, a cute nose, and an absolutely hot lip piercing that the boy is toying with as he waits for Louis' response. Louis realizes this and snaps from his trance almost immediately.

"I - uh. Olive oil?" he blurts stupidly, because the pretty boy laughs and gestures for him to follow. Louis does, of course, and he not-too-subtly stares at the boy's arse as he walks. (Don't judge him; it's fucking amazing. Louis would rate it a solid eight out of ten, second only to Harry's. But then again, Harry will always be Louis' number one.)

"Here you are, mate," the boy nods at a bunch of bottles just down the aisle from where Louis had previously been looking. Louis all but melts when he flashes him a smile at Louis' muttered thanks. The boy turns to leave, but something inside Louis panics.

"Wait!" The boy turns around, looking startled. "I didn't catch your name."

"Lucas," the boy smiles again, and holy fuck, Louis isn't sure if he can even remember how to move his own foot. "Yours?"

"Louis. Um. Tomlinson."

"Yeah, I know that name!" Lucas' eyes light up, and Louis laughs quietly; it sounds awkward and forced, but Louis cannot stop staring. "You're in.. em. One Direction!"

"Yup," Louis laughs again. He needs to stop laughing.

"That's sick, mate," Lucas seems like he wants to say something else but is struggling. "Not to be nosey or anything, but. Why are you buying olive oil?"

"Oh, I'm just buying it for a friend. We're making pizza," Louis explains quickly. 

"Pizza? Very cool," Lucas' stare lingers on Louis for longer than usual, but Louis is sure he hasn't blinked in the past five minutes, so it's not a big deal. 

"Do you - do you want to come with me?" Louis blurts, and immediately he wishes he hadn't said it. "I mean, uh. To help out. We really don't know how to cook. Well, my mate Harry does, but like-"

"I wish I could, but duty calls," Lucas taps at his name tag pinned to his uniform shirt. "But if you'd like, we can always get pizza another time?"

"Well, I dunno if Harry will be in town for long-"

"I mean just you and I."

"Oh," Louis is officially going to die.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want. Just to get to know each other better."

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds great," he feels lightheaded. He needs to sit down. 

"Is tomorrow too soon? I know we've just met, but I'm sure you're busy and all. There's this place called Mama Armani's, um. It won't be busy, it's sort of in the middle of nowhere actually," Lucas shrugs. 

"Tomorrow is great," Louis' vocabulary has seemingly been narrowed down to a mere twenty words.

"Six o'clock, meet me here?"

"Can't," Louis grunts. "I uh - paparazzi. If they see me. Like. Just give me the address, I'll find it."

"Sure," Lucas agrees, but then he takes his phone from his pocket and tucks it into Louis' hand. Louis stares at it blankly for a few seconds. "You're supposed to put your number in it."

"Oh, right. I knew that."

Louis quickly enters his number with shaky hands and hands the small device back to Lucas. Lucas accepts it with a small smile before he turns around and walks away. 

Louis pays for the oil and leaves, but when he's back he forgets all about Lucas because Harry is watching the pizza cook through the oven door cutely, his bum poking out in his bent-over position as Louis snacks on some pepperoni slices idly.

He gets the text with the address a few hours later, and suddenly Lucas is the only thing he can think about; that night, he dreams of pretty brown eyes and lip piercings.