Close to Nowhere (Larry Stylinson)

eleven

...

"Good job. That was really great work."

Louis rolled his eyes and went back to brushing his teeth, trying to get the taste of the astral plane out of his mouth. Even though it was impossible. Coming back to his body always made him feel shaky and weak, like one of those chihuahuas that constantly shivered because it was always cold.

He spit toothpaste into the sink and then turned to face Harry, who was watching him. Like always. This time he was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, not defensive or anything but just his idea of casual.

Louis brushed past him and went to get into bed. Now that he had his suitcase with him, everything was better. He had access to his toothbrush, soap, and clothes. And his phone charger, although it was unlikely he would get any signal out here, at the ranch, or anywhere. Oh, the joys of working a case in the desolate mountains of Tennessee.

He crawled into bed happy but trying to contain it, having already gone through Harry's bag to find the lock-picking knives which were right where he figured they would be. Hah. As soon as Harry was asleep, Louis would take them down the hall and unlock that fucking door. Whatever was behind there was important even though Harry refused to acknowledge that.

They hadn't learned much from the seance aside from a multitude of details about Charlotte's death in the fire, all of which were frankly unimportant. But it was fun nonetheless, to explore the other realm with Harry.

They rarely did it together, mostly because Louis complained that Harry was chaperoning him like an uptight mom watching her kid at the playground. But whenever they projected their souls beyond the veil together Louis felt a strong, calming sense of not being alone. Just like that first time he recognized Harry's psychic aura in the void and knew what it meant, how it felt to not be alone.

The comforter, which had previously been pulled over Louis' face, was peeled back, the cold rushing in. Louis squawked with surprise and then indignance when the mattress dipped beside him and Harry clambered inside.

"What the fuck, what are you doing?"

"I'm not stupid, I know you're going to try to do something rash. This way you can't escape without waking me."

Fuck. Maybe Harry was smarter than Louis gave him credit. "I am going to hit you on the head and knock you out."

Harry huffed out a laugh, throwing his heavy leg over Louis' thigh. "I'd like to see you try."

"Fuck you" Louis grumbled, trying to squirm away. All it did was back him into a corner, quite literally, as his shoulder brushed up against the wall even as Harry followed his movements, clinging to him like an octopus. Literally lying partially on top of him. Stupidly big arm around his torso, face pressing into his neck, the whole deal.

"This is for your own good," he retorted, sounding all high and mighty but also smug, in a way that meant this was as self-indulgent as it was for Louis' protection.

If Louis really wanted to, he could put up a fight and push Harry off the bed. As it was, the room was cold with the windows open and he'd been freezing last night.

"I'm only agreeing with this because you're warm."

"Sure," Harry allowed, nudging his nose against Louis' neck.

All he had to do was wait until Harry fell asleep, and then he could work on trying to get out from under his limbs. It wouldn't be easy but Louis knew Harry was a heavy sleeper, so he had a chance.