The Princess and The Outlaw

Fairytale Bliss

Five Months (prior to proposal).

Harry showed up criminally late on a Saturday night with an entire paycheck's worth of takeaway and his arm slightly bleeding from a tattoo done by a friend rather than professional. Of course, Louis welcomed him inside with a string of scolding falling from his lips as he gathers up the first-aid kit that's never an organised case. He was in his caricatured Sherlock Holmes T-shirt that was of sufficient size to stuff six pillows into it, watching a silly monster movie from the fifties before the interruption.

The above only seemed to make Louis overall less threatening even with his glower of reprimanding to his visitor. Harry sat on a stool while Louis cleaned his arm and bandaged it, trying relentlessly to prompt Louis' sweet laughter to know he's been forgiven.

"Sweet boy." Harry chides, grabbing hold of Louis' hips and tugging him closer in short jerks so the latter has no predictability for resistance. Tilting his head back, Harry earns himself a better view of Louis' piercing blue eyes until his face is covered by a dishtowel, his cheek lightly smacked for insolence.

Louis frees himself from a surprised Harry and strolls into the other room where his movie and popcorn awaited him. He made sure his groan was audible at the thump of Harry's boots being abandoned, his pants being dropped because Harry made every excuse for partial nudity. Before Louis could hit the couch he was lifted into the air and lowered into the curve of Harry's body after a moment of sheer fright.

"Get a boyfriend, Styles, and go bother the Hell out of them for once." Louis fussed petulantly against the other but really he loves cuddling with Harry, bandages and blisters included. He smacked Harry's hand away from slipping between his knees as he pressed play on the remote, retiring to the weight of the man's arm over his shoulders.

Harry offered his bicep for Louis' pillow and buried his face in the spot on Louis' neck he could always catch whiffs of citrus body gel. "Would you wear panties if I asked?"

"I wouldn't wear panties if you paid." Louis plucked several kernels from his green bowl and fed himself one at a time, not bothering to offer Harry because the man hated popcorn.

"Come with me somewhere tonight." Harry murmured, sounding as if sleep is not far from his mind.

Louis yawns and stretches, turning over onto his back. Harry moves from his throat to his chest, carving a little burrow for himself in the boy's torso. "Okay."

"No fight left in you?" Harry mocks, rubbing Louis' sides with aimless strokes. "I knew I'd wear you down, princess."

Letting his hand slip, Louis covered Harry's eyes for no reason he could decipher. "Where are we going, Styles?"

"Party. It's a big of a drive though so pack a bag, will ya?" Harry calls after his boy who is walking away towards the bedroom.

Louis didn't bother to alter his appearance more than pull some jeans on and comb through his fringe with his fingers. While Harry switched off the television and closed anything that might be a liability during their absence, Louis threw a few things into a bag. He noticed that Harry's clothing littered his rom as well as his own and walked out to ask if he's supposed to be a Laundromat; his companion replied to the accusation by twisting the same earlier offending dishtowel and letting it unravel as a harsh slap to Louis' bottom. They were further delayed after that because Louis had to wash the flour out of Harry's hair that he so thoughtfully put there.

Louis falls asleep as soon as they hit the freeway and is none the wiser when their surroundings start melting into that of the woods. He despises the outdoors because it never seemed to have mercy on his urban ways, while Harry is a regular camper. The pillow beneath his head is Harry's unnecessarily bulky jacket which is swathed in his signature scent of nicotine and Old Spice, which keeps Louis asleep for a good while.