tangled up in you ~ l.s

III.

Jeff gives him a wave, strolling out of the lobby casually. Harry glares at his retreating back, and only stops when his phone vibrates a hundred times in his hand.

Harry stifles a groan. The next time Jeff and Niall have one of their golf dates, he's so going to come along.

-

"I don't understand why we're here," Harry grumbles, casting his eyes around the store. They're in a pet shop, of all places, because Louis decided that they needed to get out of the house and all but forced Harry into a pair of trousers and a shirt. He had even found one of Harry's old snapbacks, a bright green one that was frankly, an eyesore, and made him wear it in an attempt to make him incognito.

It's not really working. Harry's sure the shop attendants are taking sneaky pictures of him on their phones.

Louis waves a hand at him, his eyes fixed on a display of puppies. "I told you," he says, making his way towards it. He pokes a finger through the bar, and Harry watches as a puppy sniffs at it. "We spend way too much time in your house. It's unhealthy."

"But you're a professional cuddler," Harry argues, frustrated. "The cuddling's supposed to happen at home, in a bed."

"And that is where you're wrong," Louis says. "Also we're here 'cause I think you need a pet." He reaches into the cage and takes out one of the puppies. "Here."

In a flurry of motion, he deposits the puppy into Harry's arms. Harry blinks as the puppy looks up at him.

"Hi?" He greets. The puppy barks back at him and wags his tail. Harry pats it on the head.

"I don't need a pet," Harry says, as the puppy wriggles in his arms. "I've already got one."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Where?"

"With my mum, back in Holmes Chapel," Harry says. He puts the puppy back into the pen. "Her name's Dusty and she's a cat."

Harry quite misses her, actually. He's been thinking about phoning his mum and telling her to bring her down here so Harry can see her for a bit.

Louis scoffs. "Well that's shit," he says. "How am I supposed to play with your pet if it's all the way in Holmes Chapel?"

He takes off suddenly; Harry blinks at him for a few moments before lengthening his stride, catching up to Louis easily. "Why do you want to play with my pet?"

"I like animals," Louis answers, shrugging. "Also because your house is boring as fuck." He stops abruptly, doubling back to one of the displays. Harry follows him and finds himself staring at a frog.

Harry frowns when he sees the mischievous look in Louis' eye. "Don't." He doesn't need to hear about how he bears striking resemblance to frogs again; Gemma had once spent a month sending him pictures of different kinds of frogs, all with the caption 'it u'. She still calls him a frog sometimes, when they're both at home and she thinks he's being particularly annoying.

Louis, unsurprisingly, doesn't listen. "He looks like you," he coos, putting a finger to the glass. "I'm gonna call him Harry."

"I don't think you can name the pet shop animals," Harry says.

Louis ignores him. "Hi, Harry," he greets loudly, like the frog will actually fucking reply to him. "How are you today?"

"Louis, you know it's not going to reply to you, right?"

"Shut up, Harold, I'm trying to listen to what Harry's saying." He puts his ear to the glass. "Are you having a nice day?"

It's obvious that he's just doing this to rile Harry up, but Harry can't help it. He gets riled up anyway.