Larry Stylinson ~ Poor Little Rich Boy AU

15.

Chapter Fifteen:

 

 

Harry stayed relatively calm as he walked down the stairs towards the pool, making sure to keep the bounce out of his step. His expression stayed carefully blank as usual, his mouth set into a flat line rather than the smile threatening to quirk his whole expression into delight. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, the long fingers of his left hand carefully tangled around the key in his pocket with the plastic tag attached to it that read ‘Honeymoon Suite’ in elaborate gold italic lettering.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d been thankful to his stepfather both for having an unlimited gold membership card, and to giving him a ridiculous amount of money in an attempt to win his favour (if anything, the gesture would have only made Harry more inclined to dislike him; he didn’t think much of having his affections bought. Still, he took the money anyway, knowing that Robin was a nice guy, if a little misguided). It meant that he’d been able to tip the receptionist, who today had been replaced by a woman called Jean, who had a bun and a stern expression and glasses that hung around her neck on a silver chain, and lipstick that matched her nail varnish exactly. Prim and proper as she looked, she’d accepted the money quickly enough, slipping it inside her bodice (Harry had suppressed a shudder at the sight of the folded notes being slipped down into her dress and sliding with a rasp down her wrinkly neck) taken his card, and with a few discreet whispers and a signature here and there, he’d scribbled his name on the dotted line, making it small enough not to be easily readable and completely different from his usual signature (no harm in being cautious after all) she’d handed him the Honeymoon Suite key and, with raised eyebrows, bid him good day.

He could well have imagined the slight twinkle of amusement in her watery blue eyes, or the slight raise of her eyebrows. In fact, the complete lack of reaction on the rest of her face led him to believe that perhaps he had – perhaps he was being paranoid, perhaps she hadn’t put two and two together. But really, he was a teenage boy who was shifting around like a child on Christmas Eve; they both knew exactly why he was booking the honeymoon suite, with its luxurious king-size bed and rather thick walls.

Hopefully, however, only one out of the two of them knew who he was going to be sharing it with.

Louis was waiting on the wall outside the hotel, swinging his legs and smiling at the ground as he too struggled to fight the urge to smile, clearly just as excited as Harry was, and perhaps even worse at hiding it. When it came to lying directly, Louis was a pro, whereas Harry melted into a stammering heap and struggled to force his way through a convincing sentence, all the while with a stupid, embarrassed grin on his face which clearly stated that he was telling a complete lie. In all other respects, though, Louis was nothing if not blindingly obvious.

He had his back to Harry, meaning that it was all too easy for Harry to creep up on him from behind and place his hands on the wall either side of Louis. It surprised him that the older boy hadn’t heard him coming, hadn’t sensed his approach – but it made things a bit more fun. Enjoying the advantage, and the wicked streak of boldness that seemed to surface whenever he was around Louis, he clamped his hands down on Louis’ shoulders, hard.

With a yelp, Louis flinched so hard he almost fell off the wall; if Harry hadn’t been clinging to him, he almost certainly would have. “Hey,” he complained, giving Harry a nudge without turning around, “what was that for?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh; amusement clogged his throat and for the next few minutes he simply laughed, enjoying Louis’ reaction. When he sensed that Louis had forgiven him, but had also gotten over the momentary amusement that he’d had over the situation, he leaned down to whisper into Louis’ ear, breath ruffling his hair, “I got it.”