Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

lip liner

"I only turn it into something naughty because you're so hot," Harry groans, clearly exaggerating, and kissing Louis on the cheek wetly.

"You're so dumb," Louis scoffs. He loves it. "And horny, apparently," he tacks on when Harry's lips drag down to rest on his neck.

"'m not. I'm just," Harry pauses, turning so that his cheek is on Louis's shoulder instead, "I'm just. I like you a lot."

"I like you a lot too." Louis softens, squeezing Harry closer to him. He doesn't want him to fall, after all. At least not on the ground. "I like you more than I like..."

"Footie?" Harry asks hopefully, looking up at Louis through his lashes like a vulnerable kitten. Louis's heart does an ugly wrenching thing that honestly causes a bit of physical pain, he thinks, and he's worried that if he blinks, he'll wake up from this dream. If he blinks, it might all go away.

So, he runs a hand through Harry's hair the way Harry had to him earlier, and tries not to smile at the dorky grin on Harry's face. "More than footie."

"More than takeout?"

"More than takeout."

"Even more than Gemma?"

Louis flushes at the mention of her name, because it's been three and a half weeks since his first proper date with Harry and, consequently, he's been spending more time with Harry's sister than he cares to admit. It's not his fault that she's incredibly good at humoring him when he wants to talk about things that Harry seemingly has no interest in. Football is at the top of the list.

He remembers when, two days after their date, he took Harry to a park to play a game. It was rainy and cold and Harry wore a hat just to accentuate his misery, and he later confessed to Louis that he had gloves in his pocket too. Watching Harry trip over the ball or take it to the wrong goal had been amusing for the first ten minutes, but then Louis quickly realized that Harry genuinely had no idea how to play.

After a quick lesson, Harry was able to dribble the ball for a reasonable amount of time. But, with all of his energy focused on keeping the ball going straight, he often missed when Louis came for him and consequently had the ball stolen so many times that he eventually collapsed onto the ground in defeat.

Louis smiles some more, because he also remembers kissing Harry's pouty lips - because Harry is the sorest kind of loser - and volunteering to give him a piggyback ride to Harry's car. A combination of underestimating Harry's height and overestimating his own strength ended in the two of them on the ground, Harry on top of a breathless, laughing Louis. The lay in the middle of the park for a while, covered in mud and sweat, and snogged until Harry's nose went pink.

So, despite his developing bond with Gemma, he appreciates that Harry tries for him. That Harry steps outside of his comfort zone for him. He hopes, in turn, that Harry feels the same way. He knows he should, actually; Louis vividly remembers hiking up a hill high enough to make him feel sick with Harry dragging him along - "Just a little higher, Lou, almost there!" - until they reached the top. It had been worth it, though, because the view was almost as beautiful as the huge smile that broke out across Harry's face. This adventure, Louis realizes, also ended with snogging.

He kisses Harry's forehead. "Even more than Gemma."

Harry wraps around him like a koala, latches onto him in every area he can, and Louis is so, so gone for him.

So gone, in fact, that when Harry speaks up again with a, "Can I braid your hair?" a few moments later, Louis agrees.

It's another adventure itself, truly, because Harry looming over him from behind and pulling on his hair and muttering to himself is almost the most adorable thing Louis's ever witnessed.