Larry Stylinson One Shots

Toothache

Summary: Louis has a toothache but refuses to go to the dentist and Harry struggles to convince him to.

~~~

One thing about Louis is that he will never admit he's losing. Whether it's at footie and the ball is continually flying past him and into the goal, or a friendly wrestling match with his Hazza over the remote because he wants to watch Grease and Harry wants to watch The Notebook.

But those are trivial things. They don't matter in the long run. He'll end up watching Ryan Gosling captivate his boyfriend once again eventually, so once he of course wins the remote, he'll turn it on anyway. He'll return to the locker rooms with his team and give them the pep talk of a century, even if they're losing 0-5. Louis always refuses to accept the obvious.

Unfortunately, this includes internal battles.

Internal?

It may not be considered internal since it's a physical problem, but it's inside his mouth, so. And no, it's not Harry. Louis quite enjoys when Harry is inside his mouth.

Anyway-

A toothache. Louis' tooth has been killing him for weeks now, but he won't tell anyone. It'll go away, right? It's not like it can be a cavity, he religiously brushes his teeth, he can't have stank breath if Harry decides he's in the mood for an impromptu make out session which, he's happy to report, happens very often.

As the days go by, he battles with himself to accept the fact that he might- just might- have to surrender to the pain and dump a few hundred from his bank account to the dentist.

Ha. Who's he kidding? He doesn't have that kind of money. He's next to broke. Being in university isn't cheap, and on top of that he's in on an athletic scholarship.

So. No dentist for him. Oh darn. What a shame.

He might be afraid of the dentist as well. So there's that.

He will not admit he's losing to a tiny tooth in his mouth.

~~

Jogging down the side of the field, he winces as his tooth throbs with each heavy step. Instinctively, his hand goes to his jaw to massage it, but realizes someone might see him in pain, and that is not okay, so he passes it off as a scratch and sprints after the ball when it comes his way.

Once he's passed it off to one of his teammates, he stops running and screams internally.

How can such a small bone cause him so, so much pain?

The whistle blows, signaling the end of practice and Louis heads for the locker rooms.

"Lou!" he hears from a ways behind him, and he turns, a smile cracking his face when he sees Harry waving at him like a mad man from the bleachers. He's got on a striped shirt- is that Louis' old jersey? Fuck, he's so cute. It's not even a game and he still came out to watch Louis.

"I'll be here!" Harry calls before plopping down onto the cold metal, his shoulder length hair blowing gently in the cool breeze Louis had thanked god for.

After rushing a quick shower, Louis heads back to the bleachers, bag slung over his shoulder. He can see Harry laying flat on his back on the bench, ankles crossed and eyes closed against the warm sun.

"Haz?"

Startling, Harry loses his balance and almost falls off the bench, but luckily catches himself on Louis' arm.

"Wow," he breathes, still clutching Lou's sleeve. "You scared me."

"I just said your name." Louis pulls him to his feet so they're chest to chest, his chin tilted up a bit to hold eye contact with the damned giant he fell in love with.