17 Black (Part Two)

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HELLO MY FELLOW PEOPLE WHO ENJOY READING! you guys were sad that last chapter wasn't enough, so me, being the amazingly generous and wonderful person that i am, i'm updating early for you :) hope it fits the criteria and stuff lol.

don't forget to vote and comment and shit, love you guys lots, message me for anything you need <3 xx
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Louis pulled back from the kiss, eyes beaming up at Harry. He's wearing a short sleeved shirt despite the cold weather, but Louis isn't complaining. Harry's tattoos are on display, popping against his lightly tanned skin. He looks down at them, grabbing Harry's arm to get a closer look.

His eyes skim over the ship on Harry's bicep, the name 'Jackson' beneath it, the three nails in a line. The large rose on his forearm, the mermaid, the anchor on his wrist. His shirt sleeve is raised, and Louis makes out the tiny words 'Can I stay?' written on his shoulder. He wonders what it means, and he runs his index finger along it, making goosebumps rise on the skin there.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks him, his fingers trailing up and down his arm lightly. He feels Harry shiver, though he doesn't know if it's from the cold or from the touch.

"A bit, but it's fine. Is anyone else working in there, or did you just leave the rest of the people to rob the place?" Harry asks, tone light.  Louis chuckles, his fingers going from Harry's arm to his t-shirt, entangling themselves in the fabric.

"They're fine. Don't know why'd they want to keep drinking at midnight on a Monday, but to each their own, I suppose. Come inside, it's fucking cold, and you're wearing next to nothing," he scolds.  Harry gives him a feign look of surprise, smirking.

"Watch yourself, Tomlinson," he retorts teasingly.  Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Don't 'Tomlinson' me, you dolt. Seeing as how we're not on the field, you're not my coach at the moment. And don't tell me to 'watch myself' just because you're the idiot who didn't wear a jacket in the middle of October. I'm just calling you out on it," he says. "Sorry, that was mean. You're not an idiot," he adds, feeling slightly guilty. Harry just smiles at him, though, and grabs his hand, pulling him back into the bar.

Louis goes back behind the counter, and Harry sits at the front bar.  The two men watching the game give Louis an odd look, and Louis just nods at them, acknowledging that they saw what happened, but ignoring what they probably think of it. One of the guys asks for another tequila, so Louis makes him a drink and slides it across the counter, before walking over to where Harry's leaning over the counter.

"Do you want a water, or anything?" He asks, and Harry shakes his head.

"No, thank you, though. How was PT? Did they say you need your leg cut off?" He teases. Louis smiles, thinking that Harry just looks... adorable.

"No, but thanks for the faith. They said that there's muscle deterioration, and my joints are too loose, but if I do what they say and wear a knee brace when I play, it could help me avoid needing surgery to repair the damage. The exercises suck, and they hurt like a bitch. But I'm amazing, in all the glory that I am, so I'll do them," he says, giving Harry a smile. Harry gives him a look of disbelief.

"You're not so great, you know," he says, voice littered with sarcasm.  Louis rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Harold. You know you love me," he jokes, smile bright.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but his cheeks go red, and no words come out of his mouth. His eyes shift away from Louis, and he clears his throat.

Louis feels himself blush, and biting his lip, he walks over to one of the guys sitting down the bar, getting him the beer he called for. He's pretty sure that couldn't have possibly gone worse for him. It's not like he was serious- of course Harry doesn't love him.  The man thanks Louis for the beer, and Louis smiles and nods, not wanting to have an inevitably awkward conversation with Harry.