All That You Are Is All I'll Ever Need

43

Sorry it took longer than usual for me to update, I've been a bit busy and my eating disorder is coming back so I'm getting frustrated.
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It arrives when Harry is out with Jesy, Perrie, and Niall. Harry had invited him to go with them all, but in the background, he could hear Niall throwing a tissy fit, whining about how it's "girls only" and "Louis' a gross, stinky boy."

Harry and Louis both stayed silent, listening to Jesy yell at Niall about how "Louis bloody well smells better than you, ya bag of farts 'nd day old lasagne!"

And then, who Louis assumed was Perrie, was making a gasping noise, a soft murmured sound like she had her head shoved in something like Niall's hair, and was yelling at Jesy, "Ni doesn't smell like a bag of farts, Jesy, how could you say that!"

"You forgot the day old lasagne!"

"Day old lasagne is my favourite, just so you know!" she said back, and Jesy scoffed, finally turning back to the phone conversation she was having.

"If Louis wants to deal with this then yeah, he can come."

"No thanks!" he calls through the phone line, making Harry snort.

"Wait-" Jesy chokes, "Harry, you had this on speaker!"

He's sprawled over his couch, his hand in a bag of crisps and reruns of Big Brother playing on the tv. The phone rings, and he groans, and suddenly he has four fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of the dust from the crisps. He fishes his phone from his pocket and sees it's the main desk. There's an answer, and a nod, and Louis has a package waiting for him downstairs.

Louis knows what it is before he even gets it in his hands.

It is not but a couple days that Louis waits to present Harry with his gifts. Niall had to go to some study meeting a couple hours away, and so he gets to open the shop and work his shift alone. It is usually slow in the mornings anyhow, though, save for a few strays requesting a take-n-bake and the ones that are there for the day-old pizza slices they pop in the refrigerator and sell half-off. Louis admits, when he works the early shift, he is the main customer of the cold halfers.

Harry is peacefully sleeping in bed still, curled in on Louis’ empty bed spot still even after he had made a ruckus in the shower, dropping the shampoo and then the body soap, tripping whilst stepping out, and cursing the cosmos.

He smiles at his boy as he shakes his messy hair out and towels off his damp body. He slips on a pair of pants, and then his black work trousers; digging through the closet for his tacky-orange work shirt. He’s biting his lip, thumbing over the open drawer to his socks and pants, eyeing the pink tinselled paper shoved in the back of the drawer, hidden under random pieces of clothing.

He takes a glance at Harry, seeing him still fast asleep, soft snores escaping his pretty pink lips, and okay. He’ll do it.

His heart races on his way back to the flat from an uneventful morning at work. Harry usually texts him random things he is doing or watching, something to help him get through his shift without getting too snappy. The majority of him is excited though, a good, throat-drying excited; but- part of him-- a small part- has a sinking, worried feeling, like maybe it's too much, or not enough, or ridiculous, or, or, or something.

Maybe he is still asleep.

No, Louis knows this anticipation, it's good, fantastic; knows the minute he sees Harry he is going to choke on his tongue, and throat, and moans. He is always forgetting just how naughty Harry is, always forgetting that Harry is this sweet and lovely boy that has this side to him. This side that is filled with smirks, and raised eyebrows, and a lot of tease, and too much tongue, and dirty, absolutely filthy words that are just for him.