Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

lipstick

warning: this chapter has sexual content in it!! it's not like a full detailed smut scene or anything but it is somewhat... just. i don't want to spoil it but there's some sexual content and if that bothers you, stop reading at the ***'s and skip until you see them again.

after this there are only two more chapters left in this part!! and then we move onto part two.

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Louis has been dating Harry 'officially ' for just under three months when he knows he's either in love or very close to it.

He can feel from his toes to his fingertips every time Harry looks at him or says his name. He feels it in his smile when Harry tells him a dumb joke or confides in him. He feels it in his chest when they hug or when he gets a spontaneous kiss to the cheek. He can feel it everywhere all at once when Harry smiles or laughs too loudly, and he knows.

But it all feels too soon and sudden and everytime he feels it he panics, tries to keep it under the surface, and wants to smack himself. The last thing he wants to do is scare Harry off by jumping into things too quickly.

He also wonders if Harry feels the same way sometimes. He wonders when he catches Harry staring at him from across a classroom. He wonders when Harry shows up at his front door uninvited with a box of sweets from his mum under his arm (because Louis's failing English and Harry knows it stress him out to no end). He wonders when Harry holds his hand like he's made of glass, wonders when Harry wakes up him at three in the morning because he's had a bad dream, wonders when Harry steals his jumpers because "they smell nice, Lou."

He wonders if Harry is in love or if he's just extremely perfect.

One day Harry catches him when he's thinking too hard about it, creases between his eyebrows as he worries his lower lip, and pokes him in the stomach. "Hey."

Louis flinches, startled, and pushes fringe from his face. "Hi."

"What are you thinking about?"

He turns to Harry, pausing to think of his response. He briefly gets lost in the way Harry's looking at him. "Just... things."

"What sort of things?" Harry asks, shuffling closer. They're practically sitting on top of each other, and Louis would allow Harry to sit on his lap for real if they weren't in the middle of a bench in a public park. He has boundaries, thank you.

"Thing-y things," Louis replies dumbly, wincing at himself, and Harry giggles.

"That sounded dirty."

Louis rolls his eyes. "You're a piece of work."

He knows it's coming before Harry can even move; he juts his lower lip out and furrows his brow in a pout, crossing his arms across his chest. Louis finds it increasingly hard to take him seriously. "I don't appreciate your tone, Lewis."

"I told you to stop calling me that," he defends, mocking Harry's expression with a pout of his own.

Harry pokes his tongue out in retaliation, dropping his arms to grab Louis's hands. "Lewis." He leans forward and, mildly horrified, Louis cringes away.

"Don't lick me!" he crows, scooting to the opposite side of the bench. Harry follows him, cackling like a child, and kisses him square on the mouth instead. "You're such a dork, Harry. Jesus."

Harry's laughter fades into a wide grin as he settles back into his corner of the bench, arms resting on the back. Louis smiles back for a moment, blushing, and kicks tiny rocks with his shoes as a distraction. They lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.