Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

powder

"I'm telling you! She honestly wasn't!"

"Oh, come on."

"She wasn't wearing any! Fully naked. In her birthday suit. And she looked at me, and I looked at her, and I say 'hi', and she just screams! Total misunderstanding." Harry sits back, hands folded over his stomach. Louis hides his smile behind his hands, but he's laughing so hard that he's worried he might start hiccuping.

"That's why she always gives you bad marks, eh?"

"I'm not saying yes, but. Yes." Harry smiles back. "And it's not even my fault. The boy's locker room is never a safe place to be going starkers, no matter what time it is."

"Well, I'm sure she wasn't expecting you to be wandering around after school. And, as the health and gym teacher, I think he has the right to be in the-"

Harry shushes him. "You're cuter when you're not trying to prove me wrong."

With pursed lips, Louis drops his hands. They've been out for what feels like millenniums, but he's not bored or tired or even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Harry has enough stories to entertain him for the rest of his life. The silence isn't awkward, but Louis feels like he needs to keep talking before he loses Harry's interest. Admittedly, it's mostly so Harry doesn't realize what time it is, but he also feels as if he can not be blamed. He'd like to stay here forever, thank you.

"I never told you how lovely you look, did I?" he comments, heart slamming in his chest. He can't help it, really; Harry makes him feel nervous and happy and indescribably alive all at the same time.

"Thank you," Harry says, softly and genuinely, and his eyes fall to his lap. "People don't tell me that very often."

Suddenly aghast, Louis gasps, slamming his hand down on the table so spontaneously that he and Harry both jump. "Well, why the hell not?"

"I think you and I both know why." Harry leans forward and takes Louis's - now slightly reddened - hand in his own. "But it's okay. I don't need other people to make me feel pretty."

He nods. "That's an admirable trait to have."

"I'm glad you think so." Harry ducks his head down, uncharacteristically sheepish, looks up at him through his lashes. Tingles run through Louis's entire body like he's just been shot, but he forces himself to push all thoughts to the back of his head. Harry is his main focus. Right here, right now. Live for the present. "Stop thinking so much."

"How did you know I was thinking?" Louis asks, absentmindedly stroking his thumb across the expanse of the skin on Harry's hand. Their eyes never stop making contact, not even when a pan clatters and Gemma curses loudly from the kitchen.

"The look on your face. Your forehead does that scrunchy thing." Louis furrows his brow and purses his lips in confusion. "Yeah, that one. That thing."

"Oh." The expression falls from his face. A small smile easily takes its place. Louis doesn't mind. "You notice stuff like that?"

"Of course. I watch you a lot." And, okay. That should be creepy, Louis thinks, but it isn't. Somehow it isn't. His heart does a backflip, and his other hand comes up to rest under his chin. Harry's eyes are as green as a lush, hydrated forest; they're brighter than the sun and all the stars, deeper than every sea. Frustratingly, completely, totally beautiful.

"If I get lost in your eyes, will you come and find me?"

Harry snorts, and his free hand immediately comes up to cover his mouth. His cheeks flush with color, and a part of Louis smiles with satisfaction. The rest of him, however, blushes even harder than Harry - from his nose to his toes - and he wonders what sort of spell Harry has cast on him, Christ.