The Sun and His Moon

4

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Louis bowed. "Good Morning, Mr. Tomlinson," he replied. Both their heads held high, staring into each other's eyes. "Ah, Louis you're here I see. I hope your flight wasn't too uncomfortable," Harry smirked. It was almost comical the way Louis was thinking about grabbing Harry's face to snap it away from his eyes. "No, it wasn't Harry. Thank you for asking," he smiled and Harry nodded. "So how are Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson?" Robin asked, internally scowling at how informal Harry was. In his opinion, his son was going to be the one who makes them lose the deal. "They are doing fine, sir. They are in their room. We'll all meet at dinner," Louis replied curtly. "Thank you for coming, Louis. This means a lot," Harry dimpled. "I wish I would stick a pike through your dimples, that'll show you how to smile," Louis thought to himself. "It's our pleasure, Harry. Thank you for inviting us," Louis answered, "Your Majesty," he bowed, dismissing himself. Once he was out of earshot, began his irrational rambling. "Lad, the tension could be cut through with a knife. I cannot please an uptight king and his reckless stupid son at the same fucking time. I don't even understand why I had to greet them. Stupid lanky bastard fool. I hate him. No, I despise him. Just trying to humiliate me by calling me Louis instead of Mr. Tomlinson," he mumbled to the cat that had somehow gotten aboard. "Oh, you're a girl. Sorry, babe. What's your name then, honey? Cookie would be a perfect name for you. You're cookie and I'll take you home with me after the weekend okay? I have one at home, I think she needs a friend that doesn't yell all the details of his life to her," Louis smiled, stroking her chin. Cats always found him, he was almost a Disney princess at this point. That was how he ended up with extensive donations to shelters and spending his weekends there anyway. Cookie purred, rolling onto her back, tummy out to be pet. Maybe this weekend wouldn't be so bad after all. 

Harry stared at Louis talking to some cat he found from across the vessel. "This tiny twink just keeps getting weirder I swear. What's he gonna do? Take the damn cat home? Crazy little fool," Harry scoffed to himself, walking away to his room. He flopped on the bed, opening up his messages. One girl had sent him a rather scandalous photo. He didn't bother with the name, it was the photo that he was interested in anyway. Begining to palm himself through his trousers, his mind wandered. Suddenly he wasn't thinking about how the girl's lips would feel around him or how he would fill her, he was thinking about Louis. Louis' arse in particular. He had worn a pair of rather tight trousers and a fitted oxford shirt with a summer blazer. He looked edible from top to bottom. Soft tan skin that peeked from the one button that was undone and his tattoos. His lips had been glossy red. Harry wondered if he had applied lipgloss if he carried lipgloss in his pocket. Louis' hands were tiny with nimble little fingers, they wouldn't even fully wrap around Harry's girth. With that thought, Harry spilled into his hand with a soft cry of "Lou." He lied down, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't straight, he knew that. But the fact that it was Louis was shocking. "He's a crazy twink, Harry. You found his arse nice. Shut it and choose what to wear to dinner," Harry reprimanded himself, getting up to wash his hand. Staring at the three loose shirts laid out in front of him, his mind wandered to Louis' hypothetical lipgloss again. Not that he found it attractive or anything. He was just curious. Didn't matter if he despised Louis and thought of him to be weird, there was no doubt that he wanted to bed Louis. 

Louis was freaking out, completely losing his damn mind. He could swear on his life that he had heard the faintest moan of his own name. "Cookie, why do these creepy perverts have to stare at my arse and think about it while they wank? Stupid men. Just because I am a little smaller than the average male doesn't mean I'd bottom for them. I'm a good top," Louis grumbled, head laid to the side so he could see the cat. He had washed her and she wasn't very happy about it. She just let out a disgruntled meow, tucking her face into her tummy. He got up, taking off the loose pink shirt that said 'Meow' off. What? He'd gotten it at a thrift store, a ladies' thrift store. He had to get ready for at least an hour of constant torture complete with a polar opposite father-son duo, his overly caring and sweet mother, and his retired father who belted out way too many jokes these days. "Which one, Cookie? White or pink? Now, the pink one isn't really a formal dress shirt so I wouldn't be tucking it in plus its half sleeve. The blue one on the other hand is a formal one so I would be tucking it in. Choose one, babe," Louis tried. His Cookie didn't even look up at him. "Right I should stop talking to cats like this," he sighed. He opted for the pink one, he'd wear the blue one with white pants tomorrow. He couldn't wear suits here, they were his safe move. Cinched at the waist and fitted just where it'd make him look good. 

"Oh sweet mother of roasted cinnamon almonds, why is that fool dressed like Mick Jagger's lost cousin?" Louis thought, catching sight of Harry's long legs and later, his weird hipster shirt. "Good evening, Louis. Care for a glass of wine? Seems like we're both early," Harry smiled. He was so full of himself and Louis could see right through him. "Of course, Harry. Although, I'd rather not drink mine here. I don't want to be rude in case they come before I've finished my glass," Louis answered."1-Louis, 0-Harry" Louis thought, smiling at Harry as he handed him a glass of Pinot Grigio. There would be some sort of white meat or fish at dinner, the wine was a sure tell. "Would it bother you if I joined?" Harry asked, leaning on the railing next to Louis. "No, it wouldn't, Harry. In fact, you're most welcome to join me. So tell me, how have you been?" Louis smiled. "I really want to push you off into the sea so you drown to death and I never have to see your stupid lanky legs or your big stupid face," Louis thought, smiling. "I've brought my childhood cat back to my penthouse and she ripped up a rather ugly cushion," Harry chuckled and Louis actually let out a laugh. "Really? Your girl's got taste. What's her name?" he giggled. He fucking giggled, eyes crinkled at the corners and his faint dimples showing. "Dusty. She's about eleven years old but she still looks like only a year old. What's your one's name?" Harry asked. "Ophelia. She's four years old. Ragdoll so she always looks like she walked off of a runway. Happens to love to always be with me no matter how many water splashes she gets," Louis beamed. Even though he didn't like Harry as a whole, this cat-loving child side of him was more than tolerable. 

"So, Louis, your father tells me you handle all business of the Tomlinson Holdings?" Robin asked. "Indeed I do, sir. I'm still to properly adjust to the extra hours and work I have to put in. It has just been eight months since Dad retired after all. I cannot just leave the office in the middle of the day or not go to work on a Friday because Dad will take care of it anymore," Louis answered, waiting half a minute before spooning a piece of chicken into his mouth. "Son, you are being too humble. Handling such a big corporation at twenty-four isn't child's play and you know it. Sometimes you've got to take credit for the things you do," Mark smiled, patting Louis' back. "Your father is right, lad. You're a good businessman and mature for your age. Most people your age or even older wouldn't take the job as seriously as you do," Robin added. He  had definitely had one too many glasses of wine. Harry's fist clenched under the table as he smiled at his father. He was talking about his incompetent son also known as Crown Prince Harry Edward Styles.