The Titanic (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter Four

Larry Stylinson/Titanic!AU

Chapter Four.

AN: Bit of a filler, my apologies. 

~thewhitetoymaker

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“Harry.”

He knew that voice. That voice was made up of warm concern and glasses of water every morning at Eton, when he didn’t have enough presence of mind to remember that he had classes to go to.

“Harry, wake up.”

“Quiet, Liam,” he moaned in complaint, turning on his side to feel for the warmth that was seeping through his skin. His wandering hands found a stretch of flesh that felt pleasant beneath his tingling fingertips, and he edged closer so that he could press his cheek to what felt suspiciously like a strong chest trapped beneath him. His head felt so muzzy and sore that it barely mattered that a part of him wondered why Liam’s voice was not buzzing through his ear as it should have been in such a position.

“Harry… why is there a boy in your bed?”

He puzzled over that sentence for several moments, eyes closed, and then comprehension clicked far back in the recesses of his mind; fighting past the hangover that clouded his thoughts. “It’s just Louis,” he mumbled, sighing. His throat felt cottony and dry as he swallowed. “It’s alright. He’s good.”

“Who’s Louis?” Liam whispered, and it was only then that Harry finally peeled his gummy eyelids back to focus on that familiar face that was swimming somewhere above his head. He blinked several times, let his brain catch up to the rest of his body, and it was with a grunt of a sigh that he sat up to see that he was half-curled in the sleeping boy’s arms. Louis was still fast asleep, it seemed, and his face was pressed into the pillows while Harry lay sidled up against his firm chest.

Liam’s bewildered gaze flicked down to where Harry’s hand had been resting against Louis’ stomach, dangerously close to touching the inch of skin that had been revealed by his skewed shirt, and the younger boy swiftly drew his fingers back.

For just a moment, he felt the strangest urge to simply shoo his friend out of the room in fear of waking the older boy up where he lay beside him. Louis’ eyelashes were fluttering slightly with dreams, his mouth was just a little bit parted, and there was a side to Harry’s fuzzy mind that just wanted to leave the other boy there. Not least, he feared what the light of day was going to do to their memories of the previous night. Already, the morning felt too harsh and ordinary, as if the strange connection he’d felt to the other boy would be broken the second that Louis woke up to find that he was in Harry’s suite; trapped in the conventional hell that was his life rather than adventuring through the decks together. Irrationally, he felt that it would be too awkward for Louis to find himself there.

And Harry was afraid, more than he should have been, that the other boy would simply leave.

“Harry?” Liam prodded quietly, still clearly confused about what he was seeing.

Harry nodded once and, as carefully as he could, he tried to edge himself off of the mattress without disturbing the other boy overly much. Louis inhaled once, a soft sound, but he only turned further into the covers as Harry took the moment to ease himself onto the deck as quickly as he could; glancing back at Louis several times as he did so.

The floors were cold beneath his bare feet, and he instantly staggered into Liam’s arms as soon as he stood up, momentarily forgetting that he was in fact on a ship that was still pitching and moving beneath them without pause. His stomach rolled sickly, as much with the hangover he felt as with seasickness, and he was more than happy to allow Liam to escort him out into the sitting room beyond with two hands beneath his elbows.