LARRY ONE-SHOTS SMUT FLUFF 2

I Put My Dreams Into You, They'll Grow 3/4

by runaway_train

Summary:

"You're going to have to downsize this entire thing Harry."

Louis is standing in front of Harry's open wardrobe, hands on his hips, and the whole thing is filling him with absolute dread.

"But why?" Harry responds from where he is sat on his bed behind him. Louis doesn't even have to look at him to know he is pouting.

Louis presses his fingers to his temples. "Because there isn't enough space in my flat. You've been there, you sleep there at least four nights a week, you know this."

Or

The one where Harry moves in. Sort of.

The first time Louis properly discusses Harry moving in with him is two weeks after he asks him to.

They had been pretty busy with work and social engagements and having 'I can tell you I love you during sex now' sex and a suitable time hadn't presented itself to talk about the practicalities of the move, until one night when Louis thinks enough is enough and they need to get the ball rolling, so goes round to Harry's with one clear objective; sorting Harry's clothes.

"You're going to have to downsize this entire thing Harry."

Louis is standing in front of Harry's open wardrobe, hands on his hips, and the whole thing is filling him with absolute dread.

"But why?" Harry responds from where he is sat on his bed behind him. Louis doesn't even have to look at him to know he is pouting.

Louis presses his fingers to his temples. "Because there isn't enough space in my flat. You've been there, you sleep there at least four nights a week, you know this."

"Well I don't really know what you suggest I do Lou." Now he just sounds like a petulant child.

"I suggest you chuck what you aren't going to wear again."

"I'll wear it all again though."

"Really? Like...." Louis reaches up to riffle through the rails of coloured, and often bejewelled, fabric. "This? When were you planning to dress up as a matador again?" He grabs the hanger and pulls out the outfit, turning to Harry as he holds up the black suit with red and green flower detailing and sparkling fringing.

Harry's pout worsens. "That's not fancy dress Lou."

"You're lying," he laughs. Harry must be making a joke. He knows that Harry makes unusual fashion choices sometimes but come on. There will be a matching hat and red cape around here somewhere.

Harry shakes his head. "I'm not, that's custom made Gucci."

Louis turns the hanger around and brings it closer so he can see the label properly. And yes, there it is, the beloved Gucci label that Harry so often creams himself over. Fucking hell. "Well, Chipotle custom made me a spicy pork burrito last week and it caused less havoc on my arse than this monstrosity does to my eyes. It's not even practical. Surely you get this shit caught in stuff?" He holds one of the sleeves up and swings it back and forth, causing the long, bedazzled red trimming to sway, as if to prove his point.

"Lou, taking the piss out of my possessions is not the way to get out of this alive." Harry stands up from the bed and wraps his arms around Louis' waist from behind, bending down to kiss his neck. "And you know," he murmurs into Louis' ear, "if you want something to cause havoc on your arse properly, all you need to do is ask." He bites softly on Louis's earlobe.