Princess » l.s ✔️

The One With The Laugh

Chapter Eleven: The One With The Laugh.

Louis rolled over on the bed when he woke up the next morning, stretching his limbs softly with eyes still shut.

There was a delicious smell that invaded his nostrils, almost teasing him. He wanted to sleep more, because of how early he woke up the night before, but the smell was so taunting, he almost would rather get up.

The boy fluttered his eyes open, groaning when the sun light beaming through the peaks of the closed curtains almost blinded him. Louis ignored the voice telling him to go back to sleep for just 'five more minutes', but instead, followed the aromatic smell that led him to the kitchen, led him to Harry.

Harry was in the same clothes he was wearing last night, his lilac sweater that reached right above his waist, and sweats. As Louis walked in, he witnessed him singing loudly to the songs blaring through his loud speaker, his voice sounding so angelic over the artist's.

Louis couldn't help but grin fondly as he leaned against the door frame. He watched Harry flip the pancakes and dance around, watched as he swayed his hips to the music bouncing off the walls.

The boy stopped, though, when he turned around to see Louis by the door, his whole face flushing whilst his mouth remained agaped, embarrassed to be caught when he thought he was alone.

"Someone's a morning person." Louis chuckled softly in his own morning voice, walking around the counter to get to the fridge.

Harry bit his smile. Though he seemed embarrassed, he was still smiling his shy smile, serving the food he had made onto two different plates. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?

"Seems so." Louis poured himself a glass of juice, leaving the carton on the counter. "What're you making? Smells amazing." He hummed, walking to where Harry stood in front of the stove and peering over his shoulder to look at the pancakes. (He had to get on his tip toes to see over his shoulders, but Louis hoped Harry wouldn't notice)

"Pancakes, chocolate chips. I made you some, too." Harry served the last two then put the full plates on the kitchen island, with forks next to them.

"Oh, what a great house wife. I'm so very lucky." Louis teased playfully, taking a seat and Harry following.

As they ate, Louis felt the urge to ask about last night pressing on his chest. About what exactly happened, because he was still left confused.

He had never seen Harry so distraught and surely, never wanted to see that sight ever again.

It genuinely pained him that Harry would ever feel so badly.

"How'd you sleep, by the way?" He asked first, chewing on his food. Louis figured if he was going to ask, it would be best it wouldn't be the opening to the shaky conversation.

Harry shrugged. "Good, I guess. Had a weird dream, though. Something about us, I don't quite remember."

"Hope it wasn't a wet dream."

Harry gasped and there it was, the same flush on his pink cheeks that caused Louis' heart to swell for some strange reason. "Did not. You're not exactly my type."

It was Louis' turn to gasp. "Excuse you. I am everyone's type." He rebutted, taking the maple syrup from between them and pouring onto his pancakes. "Hot? Check. Romantic? Check. Gentleman with a hint of bad boy in there, just for good measure? Check and check. What more would you want?"

Harry shook his head as a chuckle fell from his mouth. "Immensely cocky? Check." The younger man sing-songed, Louis poking his tongue out at him only for him to do the same.