35 - Giggles

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"Harry, there's someone on the phone for you!" Louis calls from the living room. Harry's still in bed, so he musters up the strength to pull himself out. 

His ankles still itch, and he thinks that Louis will have to apply more of whatever he put last night. He reaches down to scratch them, but just before his nails come in contact with the irritated skin, Louis calls again about the phone call. 

When Harry takes the phone from his lovely boyfriend's hand, a woman starts speaking furiously.

"Why didn't you tell me your cat had fleas? God! Now I have fleas—and I didn't even know humans could get fleas!—and all my cats have fleas! Do you have fleas? Did you give my motorcycle helmet fleas? Oh god, I'm so itchy." She pauses. "You're paying for whatever costs this brings me and my cats. Oh, and return the motorcycle as soon as possible. Without fleas!"

"Sure thing, ma'am." Harry sputters out, and then hangs up. 

He sighs and puts his phone in his pocket. "I need to go, Lou. Needa' return the motorcycle and get the car back." 

"Okay, babe. Zayn's coming over." 

"I'll be home soon." Harry says, stepping out of the house. He mounts the motorcycle, yawns, and then starts it up. 

 ✖ ✖ ✖

An hour later, Zayn arrives at the Tomlinson-Styles household, with a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He walks in the house and raises his eyebrows at Louis. "We're getting drunk, white boy!"

Minutes later, Louis has finished setting up (which he had been doing before Zayn arrived), and the boys sit in front of the camera. (Louis is sitting on a pillow because he's kinda', a little too short.)

"Hello, my people!" Louis greets the camera. "I'm here with..."

"Zayn Malik!" 

"and we're doing the..."

"drunk spelling backwards challenge!" 

"Is that even a thing?" Louis asks, with his eyebrows furrowed. 

"It is now." Zayn shrugs. "Every time we get one wrong, we take a shot."

"If you were wondering, it's currently eleven o'clock in the morning... and we're getting drunk."

"No regrets!" Zayn smiles, "Let's start, then." 

"Spell elephant backwards." Louis tells Zayn. 

"Okay, that's easy. E-L-E-P—oh wait, shit. I'm spelling it forwards." Zayn facepalms. "Do I get another chance?"

"Ha, no. Take a shot." Louis smirks, watching Zayn pour himself some and take it down in one swig. 

"Your turn. Spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

"You're kidding." 

"Nope."

Louis sighs, working it out in his head. "S-U-I-O-C, oh nevermind that. Pour me a shot."

Five minutes, six shots for Louis, and two shots for Zayn later, the boys are giggling messes. 

"It sure doesn't take much for you." Zayn laughs at the more drunk boy.

"I LOVE HARRY STYLES!" Louis yells, then giggles hysterically. 

"Is he all you ever think about when you're drunk?" Zayn asks Louis, who nods vigorously. 

Zayn signs off for Louis, then ends the video. Harry walks in a few minutes later, looking exhausted. 

"What's going on?" Harry asks, rubbing his eyes.

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