Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

mascara

Louis wishes he knew how to tie a tie.

Doing so, he thinks, should be common knowledge - well, if that's a thing - but he's never been presented with a tie-worthy occasion until now, in front of his bathroom mirror, and he's kind of panicking.

"Wear something nice," Harry had said. "We're going somewhere... well, I think you'll like it."

"Nowhere super expensive, please."

"Hush. You know money isn't an issue. It's our first proper date, Lou. I want it to be special."

So, needless to say, Louis plans on ordering the least expensive thing he possibly can. If he can tie his tie.

He huffs, thoroughly frustrated, and tugs at the fabric around his neck. "Jesus Christ."

"You look weird," comes a voice from the doorway. Louis scowls at his reflection. If he had a pound for every time one of his sisters barged into his room, they'd all be rich. He shoos Lottie, the intruder, out of his room with a stern warning and a sigh. His mother should be home by now. She promised she would be home to watch the girls. Taking four children on his Very First Date Ever is a less than desireable set of circumstances. As if on cue, the front door opens and two shouts of glee echo through the house. Thank God. Usually, when he visits Harry instead of the other way around, Louis leaves the girls under the watchful eye of his neighbor, Mrs. Payne. Mrs. Payne has a son, but he moved out last year or something - Louis doesn't know. Mrs. Payne blubbers about him a lot, but Louis usually tunes her out with a forced smile and a nod of the head. Polite, sweet, and reserved. They get on well enough. Asking Mrs. Payne to watch all four of his sisters from seven to - well, God knows when, Louis doesn't have a curfew - seemed out of the question, and rightfully so.

There's a knock on hi doorframe, effectively snapping him out of his time consuming thoughts. He whirls around, grasping his tie protectively. It's only his mum, of course, not a psychopath-murderer. Admittedly, Louis knows a tie isn't the best option for defending one's self. Technicalities, Louis scoffs to himself, and nothing more.

"My ba-"

"Mum, please." He tugs at his fringe, sheepish and flushed. "You're embarrassing me."

She places her hand on her chest. "I'm sorry, lovey, you know how I get."

"I know." Louis needs to stop staring at himself. But what if Harry turns up looking like a Gucci model? Louis scowls once again, irritated by his own appearance as he simultaneously realizes that Harry always looks like a Gucci model. Fuck. He's overthinking it, he knows, but it's hard to remain calm given the circumstances.

"When will you be home?"

"Dunno," Louis replies, a bit mindlessly at that; he's taken to sorting through his socks, trying to find a pair that corresponds with his outfit. He's wearing a sea blue button down, according to Daisy, (which he hopes looks alright in comparison to his eyes) along with the nicest black trousers he could find. His tie is black as well, and he's certain he'd look positively dashing if his tie wasn't a Hopeless Case and if his cheeks weren't the color of a ripe tomato. Well, positively dashing compared to what he usually looks like. "Knowing Harry, he'll fly us to Peru and we'll wine and dine, skin bathed in the moonlight; some poetic shit like that. He's classy, Mum."

"Don't swear. You haven't got a passport either," Jay tuts, sounding genuinely concerned. Louis gives her a look. "Oh, alright. Never mind."

Harry is due any moment now, Louis realizes with a pang. He sits on the edge of his bed, feeling a bit woozy, and motions for Jay to join him. She does shuffling over and patting Louis's thigh. "You'll have fun."