Larry Stylinson One Shots

Gym Crush

Summary: Louis starts hitting the gym against his will, but soon realized the benefits of it.

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Louis can't believe he let Zayn talk him into this. The gym? Seriously? That's not exactly his comfort place. His comfort place is his bed with Netflix and an unopened bag of popcorn. That's probably part of the reason Zayn wants him to hit the gym.

"Everyone's gonna be mega buff. I'm literally a twig. I'm gonna be humiliated."

"No you won't." Zayn shakes his head, pressing his palm against the door and leading the pair into the gym, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Metal clanks, grunts, and heavy breathing fill the air, the smell of sweat attacking his senses. Scrunching his nose, he looks to Zayn, who's busy greeting a brunette guy at the treadmills.

How do you even use this stuff?

Half the equipment looks heavy enough to kill Louis, and the other half looks so heavy Louis would be killed trying to use it.

It seems like a lose-lose situation.

Making his way to Zayn, his jaw drops as he and his friend Liam begin jogging on the treadmills.

"I know you're not expecting me to run." Louis sasses the raven haired man, who gives him a weird look.

"You don't have to. Go find a machine you like, we just have to do this for twenty minutes, then I'll come find you."

"And embarrass myself alone? I think not. I'll wait here until you're done."

"No, Lou. Just- go find a machine that has a seat so it's a leg workout and set the weight really low. You have to start easy. Put your music on and just forget about where you are. I'll be there soon."

Shaking his head, Louis wanders off to find the most comfortable looking machine. It doesn't seem fair that Zayn's the one that dragged Louis to the gym, then he gets to just ditch him. Thinking about it, it's probably best that Zayn isn't with him, or else Louis would be expected to do a real workout.

After a few laps around the gym and some uncomfortable glances from the super strong, hulk-like men, he concludes that there aren't any seats comparable to the comfort of his bed.

In the back corner of the gym he finds a pull-up bar. That shouldn't be too bad, right? He always liked the monkey bars on the playground in grade school, how much different could this be? And it's in the back so when he inevitably fails he'll at least have some privacy.

Rubbing the nervous sweat off his hands, he lines himself up below the bar. It seems kinda far away, but it's most likely just his perspective.

Stretching his arms above his head, he bends his elbows and jumps for the bar, his hands completely missing it.

That's embarrassing.

Why is the bar so high up? Not everyone is 6'6. Actually, most of the guys here seem larger than life, so six feet and six inches doesn't seem that unrealistic.

He jumps again, but finds himself too short once more. Casting a weary eye around the gym, Louis prays nobody sees him struggling. He'd quite literally rather his skull be crushed beneath a weight plate than have somebody see how much difficulty he's having.

Dragging a weight plate to where he's standing, he steps on it to gain an additional few inches, then jumps again. His fingertips brush the cool metal, but can't wrap around it.

Grunting in effort, he steadies himself, preparing for one final leap. As his feet leave the ground, he feels a pair of hands on his waist, helping him up and he easily takes ahold of the bar.