Larry Stylinson One Shots

What I Deserve

Summary: Harry's had a string of one night stands and Louis' had enough of it.

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Running a hand through his hair, Louis paces the kitchen back and forth, back and forth.

His eyes travel wearily to the clock on the microwave.

6:49

6:49 in the morning and Louis hasn't gotten a wink of sleep, and it's all Harry's fault. His stupid arse couldn't be bothered to come home last night after he said he was 'taking a quick trip to the bar'.

This was a regular occurrence anymore, happening several times a week, yet every time, Louis is unable to sleep until he knows his roommate is safe.

Honestly, these one night stands are ridiculous. Harry is not a one night stand type of guy, he gets too attached to people, he takes everything too personally. Every time he may have gotten rejected at the bar, his self confidence surely went down.

Louis sneers, imagining Harry doing his best smooth talking, or most successful pickup line on some strange man who doesn't deserve his time or body. Even worse, the idea of the rando saying no, as if they could do better than the sweet angel in front of them.

A quiet squeaking of door hinges rips Louis from his thoughts of Harry pulling some guy to the bathroom of the musty bar where all the sleazeballs hang out.

He hears shoes dropping to the floor and keys jangling as they're tossed aside, the soft sound of a jacket hitting the ground and a heavy sigh.

Seconds later, Harry appears in the doorway, rubbing his fingers over his eyes.

His hair's a mess, hanging in strands around his ears. His shirt's on backwards, and he just seems very... done.

"You look awful."

Harry stops short, looking up and scanning Louis quickly.

"You don't look too great yourself."

Harry pushes past Louis, whose arms are crossed on his chest, his jaw set.

"Where were you?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Nowhere."

"Harry."

"Is there a problem?" Harry whirls to face him, a mug in one hand, the milk carton in the other. It's too early in the morning, he had too underwhelming of a night, and he really is growing sick and tired of Louis making Harry think he cares. "It's not even seven in the morning. Go to sleep, you cranky fuck."

"Oh, I'm the cranky fuck? All I asked was where you were."

"And that's none of your fucking business."

"It is my business." Louis throws his hands through the air, his voice getting louder as he gets worked up. He can feel the anger begin to radiate from the taller of the two, and allows himself to get upset too. "You keep going out and getting fucked by a bunch of nobodies and I can't understand why, but you're still my Harry and I worry about you."

Harry's tongue pokes his cheek in frustration, a strained chuckle rising in his throat as he shakes his head in disbelief, turning away, grumbling. "'My Harry', huh?"

Taking a deep breath, Louis tries to relax himself.

"Can we... can we please just- talk about this? About what's going on?"

"What's going on?" Harry sets everything down, turning to face Louis. "Nothing's going on. Nothing's happening."

"Then why are you going out every night?"

"Because I'm twenty-four and fucking hot?" Harry laughs in exasperation. "Because I'm allowed to, and- surprise surprise! Some people want to fuck me, Louis. Some do."

"Since when do you do casual fucks?" Louis takes a step closer, sure he's just as red in the face from anger as Harry is.

"Since they're the only fucks I get. I don't know why you're so pissy about this anyway." Harry spits.

"I have a right to be mad about you disappearing for hours every night, Harold."

"A right? What 'right' do you have when it comes to me?" Harry scoffs, fed up with this whole situation.
Does Louis genuinely think Harry wants a new guy every night? He really believes he wouldn't rather it be the same guy, the same one person? "You don't have the right."

"Of course I do!" Louis fumes. "You're my best friend! I can't sleep without knowing you're safe, and I never know when you're safe now, not with your new hobby."

"Why do you give a shit about my safety? I can take care of myself."

Louis yanks the mug from Harry's grip, setting it down heavily on the marble countertop, some of its contents sloshing over the edge.

"I know you can, but you aren't!"

"What the- what-" Harry splutters, looking around as if Louis' insane. "What does that even mean? I'm here, aren't I? I'm perfectly fine!"

"No you're not." exclaims Louis.

"How the fuck are you telling me how I feel?" Harry challenges, squaring up to the smaller man, each face livid, and the possibility of punches flying isn't far from either of their minds.

"Because I know you, Harry. I know you're not a one night stand person. You want more- you deserve more."

"Then give me fucking more, Louis!" Harry screams, shoving him back a few steps. "Give me fucking more."

Louis' shirt is balled in Harry's hands, Harry's seething face only a few inches from Louis' stunned one.

"Give me what I deserve."

Time slows, the silence of the kitchen ringing deafeningly in their ears. Louis' eyes flick alertly between Harry's. His pupils are blown, from anger or something else? His breathing is ragged as he stares Louis down, fists still clenched around his shirt.

"Forget it." Harry mutters, pushing Louis away, freeing him before turning to leave the room.

It takes only a second for Louis to decide what to do.

Running after him, he reaches out and knocks Harry forward. The taller man stumbles, catching himself on the counter just before his knees hit the tile.

Louis yanks him to his feet, spinning him so they're face to face.

"You little whore," Harry's words are flames, scorching the air between them. "The fuck was-"

And then they're connected. Louis bites harshly into Harry's lower lip, his hands holding him tight, one tangled in his curls and the other wrapped around his throat.

Harry groans, his arms winding around Louis' neck and forcing him closer, allowing Louis to walk him backwards.

Only when he has Harry's back pressed flat against the gray painted wall, his body trapped between it and himself, does Louis roughly pull away. A whine inadvertently escapes Harry, coming from low in his throat.

"Fucking finally." Harry pants, his head tilted back against the wall.

"Me?" Louis breathes, his hot breath puffing onto Harry's sorrowfully unmarked, pale neck. "You think you deserve me?"

Swallowing, Harry nods fervently. Every bit of anger and all his will to fight seemed to have dissipated into sexual frustration when Louis' lips found his. He just wants Louis.

"Yes."

"No, Haz. You deserve so much more than me."

"It's you." Harry whispers, laying his forehead on Louis'. "I want you. Can't you see that by now, you prick?"

And their lips meet again.

~~

I might be hyping this one up in my head because it's my first angry oneshot, but I think it's pretty good, no?

Also it was giving DWD anger and yelling in my head