home is where the heart is (but god i love the english) {l.s.}

stick with me, i'm your queen

It's far too early in the morning as Louis hauls Harry and himself out the flat door and down into the lobby to wait for the car to pick them up. For once, they don't have to worry about their own transportation, but Louis is too tired to appreciate the luxury.

"Who bought our flight for arse o'clock in the morning?" he groans as he rests against the warm weight of Harry's side.

"You did," Harry says amusedly from beside him. "I tried to convince you to let us fly later but you said that we could nap once we get there."

"This is all your fault," Louis grumbles as the cool morning air settles deep into his bones. Even Harry's hoodie isn't enough to combat it.

The Alpha wraps his arms around Louis' form, squeezing him tight. "Don't be cranky, Stubby, we're going to the USA!" he exclaims, obnoxiously licking Louis' cheek. "Can't wait to sip our black cawfee, no suga every morning in New Yawk!" he continues in some kind of horrible New York accent.

"Remind me never to let you switch over into acting," Louis snips quietly, but snuggles deeper into Harry's arms nonetheless. He doesn't even bother to wipe off the spit from his face.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

The Alpha is pouting but luckily their car pulling up distracts Louis from humouring Harry by doing something stupid like snogging the Alpha senseless. As Harry insists that the driver stay put and loads their luggage into the back, Louis is reminded of the almost-similar scene when Harry had come to take him to Manchester. It's hard to think about how drastically different their relationship looks now.

He can't imagine the Louis from several months ago would take kindly to looking at Louis now, cuddling into Harry's side as they speed to the airport. That Louis would surely have this Louis admitted to the nearest mental care facility. The only thing his rambling thoughts succeed in is making his own name sound weird to him so he shuts his eyes tightly, attempting to turn them off.

"You're thinking so hard," Harry murmurs as he strokes a finger down Louis' jawline. "Can smell it."

"Just remembering if I packed everything," Louis says, and it's not really a lie. He has also been stressed about forgetting things since they've left the flat centre.

"You don't need to stress all the time, babe," Harry coos as he presses a kiss to the top of Louis' hoodie-clad head. "I'm sure if we've forgotten anything we can always buy it there. Plus, the magazine is responsible for most of my outfits anyway."

Louis is still reeling at the term of endearment to fully take in Harry's reassurance. Babe . Surely mates don't call each other that. Even mates that have sex. Fellow coworkers definitely don't address each other as such.

Instead of responding, he scooches even closer to Harry and drifts to sleep at the sound of Harry's low humming.

✦✧✦✧

He's hand-picking all the slimy vegetables out of his chow mein before Harry decides to reprimand him.

"Louis, stop that," he hears Harry's frown before he sees it.

"I'm just eating my lunch, Harold," he says innocently, looking up to indeed see Harry's face gazing disapprovingly at him.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry watches as Louis accidentally lets yet another piece of celery slip through his greasy fingers and onto the tray table. "What's wrong with the vegetables?"

"They're not adding anything to the meal," he complains, picking it back up and throwing it into his carton. "I just like the squishy noodles and sauce."