Larry Stylinson One Shots

Clubbing

Summary: the five boys go to the club with each other and Harry and Louis go to town on each other.

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Music pounds through Louis' body as he slowly weaves his way through the packed club, a drink in his hand.

It shouldn't be hard to find his group, one's bright blonde and one towers over everyone, standing at six feet tall.

Soon enough, he finds Niall and Liam in a booth in the back of the room, an empty glass sitting on the table in front of each of them, but an almost full one next to Niall.

"Hey Louis." Liam greets him, leaning back in the booth as Louis slides in next to him.

"Where's Zayn and Harry?"

"Zayn left to get a drink a minute before you got back, and Harry's gone dancing out there somewhere."

Louis' eyes flick to the crowd of bodies on the dance floor, swaying and jumping to the beat, hoping to find a glimpse of Harry.

No such luck, so he turns back to the boys at the table and chats with them for a few minutes until a body flops itself down across from him, leaning against Niall in the booth.

"I love it here." Harry pants, slightly out of breath, presumably from dancing so much.

He picks up a glass from the table and tilts his head back, downing it in a few long gulps before setting it back with a loud thud.

"Did you find someone to dance with?"

"No." Harry glares at Liam. "You twats wouldn't dance so I danced by myself. No shame in that. A few people grinded on me though, but I think they were too hammered to care."

Well, Louis isn't too hammered to care. His jaw clenches at the idea of some randoms rubbing against Harry, and Harry just letting it happen.

"Did you see Zayn out there? He went to get a drink like ten minutes ago." Niall asks Harry, who's swaying to the music in his seat, clearly a bit drunk.

"Mmm no. Yes- yeah. He was dancing with that girl he was talking 'bout. Perrie I think." Harry smiles a little as he squints his eyes, trying to remember for sure.

Liam pulls out his phone as Harry makes silly conversation with Niall.

He'd talk to Louis, but he's afraid that if he does his intoxicated brain won't be able to tell him when to shut up and he'll embarrass himself by saying something he shouldn't.

Louis listens to the talk attentively while trying to seem disinterested. He doesn't want to be gawking at Harry, or at least not so obviously.

"Hey, sexy." A female voice startles Louis out of his thoughts and he turns to see a girl in a skimpy dress and platinum blonde hair standing next to him. It's more like she's towering over the table, staring Harry down with a sickening grin on her overly tanned face.

Giggling a bit, Harry points to himself questioningly.

"Me?"

Yes you, Harold. You're the sexiest motherfucker in this place.

Louis grimaces at his thoughts, and even more so at the girl next to him, who has reached a hand out and is affectionately petting Harry's broad shoulder.

"Yeah, you. Who else?" she asks cheekily before taking him by the bicep and trying to pull him to his feet. "Come dance."

Harry's eyes flash, alarmed at the physical force being used on him as he rises from the table.

She begins to tug him away, but Louis grabs Harry's wrist. He can sense Harry's discomfort and wants him to know that he doesn't have to go.

"You okay? You can say no to her." He asks, and their eyes meet.