Larry Stylinson One Shots

Frat Party

Summary: Louis and Harry go to a frat party and Harry gets a little too drunk.

~~~

Sitting in my car, my fingers tap the edge of my phone, anxiously waiting for Louis' response.

I wish he would answer already. But then again, he shouldn't be texting while driving. Still, I want an answer.

Shaking my head, I scratch my jaw reflectively. I can not believe I've let someone affect me so much that I'm waiting in my cold car for them to text back. I used to be independent, you know. I used to have a nickname, Harry the Whore. I used to be a free spirit. I used to not know Louis. Now he's come into my life and I haven't let him leave it. I haven't slept with anyone besides him for the last two years. He turned me around and shaped me into a whole new person, so much so that the people who used to call me Harry the Whore now call me Harry the Housewife.

Honestly, if Louis was my husband I think I'd be perfectly fine being his housewife. Staying home all day, getting to do whatever I want as long as I keep the house clean and cook a bit- which I love to do anyway. I'd be living the life. And that's not even thinking of how many nights Louis would fuck me into the mattress without having to worry about me limping around my work the next day.

God. I've become totally dependent on that man. I'd never let him know, though. No way. He has never heard me called Harry the Housewife, I elbowed Niall so hard the first time he tried to say it with Louis around that he hasn't tried it since.

No. Louis doesn't know just how severely I'm attached to him. How impactful his actions are on me, or how much his praise- or worse, criticism- affects me. He'd never let it go. He'd hold it over my head every day, reminding me how much of a baby I am without him.

That motherfucker's got me whipped.

And now I'm waiting for some letters on a screen.

The music from the house I'm parked outside of is so loud, and the bass is so strong that I can feel it pumping my heart in my chest. I can only imagine how painful it is for the people in the same room as the speakers. Or how annoying it must be to live right next to a frat house. I'm surprised the cops aren't already on their way.

I like parties, I like to get drunk off my ass and forget it all for a night, dancing my worries away and then vomiting them away the next morning.

But this isn't my party. This is one of Louis' parties with Louis' friends and Louis' cliques. None of my friends were invited, and I'm only here as Louis' plus one. It's a surprisingly formal and strict code for a frat party, but hey. Who am I to judge?

Squinting through the darkness to the house, I can even see two of the brothers standing by the door, their arms crossed as if they're security. They seem to be taking it very seriously. Probably a little too seriously, they look pretty ridiculous standing with their legs further apart than their shoulders. And they could've at least put the bulky brothers on bouncer duty. These two look like a strong wind would put them on the ground.

I wouldn't say frat bros exactly scare me, but I don't mess with them. Even in my whore era I never went near them, they're so unreliable they probably would've come and left me to myself to finish.

Sighing, I turn back to my phone, hoping to see the three bubbles that indicate Louis is typing.

A sudden knock on my window makes me jump in my seat, my phone fumbling between my hands and falling in my lap.

My eyes fly to the window, just to see Louis laughing on the other side of the glass.

Tugging the door open, his laughter fills my ears as he extends his hand, pulling me out of my car and to him. Once we're chest to chest, he wraps my arm around his waist, his other hand traveling up to my face.