World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

37.0

“Asshole,” he coughs.

“My head hurts,” I pout.

“I’m sure it does,” he caresses my hair, “Let’s see if we find a cab to take us to the hotel, you need a cold shower and some sleep.”

“Did I already say how awesome you are?”

“Um,” he gets cute, “I don’t think you have.”

“You are awesome then,” I peck his lips.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could kiss me!”

“I don’t need permission for that,” I kiss him again, “Dear Bum, the beauty: Your lips belong to me. Bubu, the Adonis,” I kiss him one more time.

“Stop kissing me! I’m getting drunk by just kissing you,” he wipes his mouth, “You taste like lemon and vodka.”

“I taste like perfection,” I laugh.

“Bubu, the cocky bastard,” he tries to sound funny but he isn’t funny at all, “You wouldn’t make it to Broadway.”

“I’d rule Broadway,” I give him a disgusted look, “I feel dizzy,” I mumble.

“Come, put your head here,” he helps me rest my head on his lap, “There you go, take a nap.”

“I’m not going to sleep on the sidewalk, I’m not you,” I laugh, “No. My head hurts even more when I laugh.”

“Your legs are so long,” he says.

“Stop staring at my body. You’ll get a boner and my ears are right there,” I say, “I don’t want to get ear fucked.”

“Ew!” he laughs, “You are weird, Harry.”

“I’m glad we are all good,” I close my eyes.

“I’m glad too,” he answers, “Thank you for telling me, even if there was nothing to tell.”

“But…”

“I’ll make fun of you about this for the rest of our lives,” he laughs.

“Will you bear with me that long?” I open my eyes to look at him.

“I’ll try,” he kisses my forehead.

“Even if I cheat again?”

“You didn’t cheat, you moron!”

“Yes, I did!” I insist, closing my eyes because my headache is unbearable.

“How would it be cheating if we are nothing yet?”

“How can you think of us as nothing? If you already own my heart.”

“Aw,” he is still caressing my hair, “You should stop talking right now, bubu, you are way too drunk.”

“I’m drunk but that doesn’t mean that it’s not true,” I mumble.

“You’ll probably forget about this in the morning,” he gets closer to my ears, “But you are starting to own mine too,” he whispers.

I fall asleep for a few seconds, wearing a huge smile. I couldn’t be happier right now. I am a very lucky man.

“Hey,” I open my eyes, “Can I ask you something?”

“Don’t ask anything you will regret,” he says, “Seriously. Drunks are always honest but I don’t want you to say anything important now, okay?”

“Is not that important,” I reassure, “It’s about something I want to do tonight.”

“Harold,” he smirks, “You wont be able to.”

“Can we cuddle tonight?”

“Aw,” he stares at me, “I thought you were going to ask me to do it.”

“What?” I open my eyes again, “Can we do it if I ask?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head, “But we can cuddle all you want.”

“Good,” I smile, “But you will be the little spoon. There’s no way we are changing that.”

“I wasn’t even going to try,” he says.

“Bum,” I call him a few moments later.

“Getting a cab is harder than I thought it would be,” he sighs, “We should stand up. You think you’ll be able to stand up?”

“Sure but wait, I need to say something else first,” I get up to sit next to him, “I know you don’t want me to but I really want to say it right now.”

“No, Harry,” he begs, “Come on, I don’t want you to say anything important if you are drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk anymore,” I lie, “Please?”

“What is it?” he gives up.

“Um,” I hesitate for a while, “Can we… be kind of… I don’t know, official from now on?”

“Why are you so damn sweet?” he pecks my lips.

“I didn’t say you could kiss me,” I tease, “You are taking advantage of my state.”

“You said you weren’t that drunk anymore.”

“True, I’m sober enough to know that this is what I want,” I get serious, “But you haven’t given me an answer yet and I’m starting to freak out.”

“What was the question again?” he smirks.

“Okay,” I stand up and I pull him up by his hand.

I always hated clichés but I could swear this moment just froze. All I’m looking at are his eyes and I feel how everything else is going in slow motion. Nothing matters right now, nothing is as important as the feeling I have inside.

“Does Bum, the beauty want to be my boyfriend or not?” I ask.

And there’s no denying anymore. I’m in love with the tourist and I couldn’t be happier about that.

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