Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

twenty-eight

Later in the evening, they're sitting on the couch together. They do this often, and have been for weeks now. It's definitely a habit.

Harry is fresh out of the shower—his second for the day, although the incident from the morning is probably best left forgotten. His hair is wet, and darker from the dampness, with loose curls forming as it dries. His skin is pale, eyes sunken, yet lips pink as ever. The oversized t-shirt he's wearing is worn and incredibly soft to the touch when Louis brushes up against it; they're sitting so close together that this is a thing that happens.

"Tired?" Louis asks, only after Harry's head has dropped to his shoulder, post-yawn. It feels warm and unbelievably comfortable to be nestled into the couch like this, pressed up against each other.

"Mhm..."

"You should go to bed then, yeah?"

He makes a noise of disgruntled disagreement, and when he speaks it sounds like a whine: "But you promised to sing to me."

Louis just barely resists rolling his eyes, feeling a little disappointed because he had been hoping Harry would forget and he wouldn't have to sing. A sigh escapes his lips before he can catch himself. He feels bad almost immediately, when he looks at Harry and sees how upset he looks... almost self-loathing.

So Louis pats his knee in encouragement and says, "Go get ready for bed and I'll meet you in your room."

The readiness to which Harry follows orders is slightly worrying. He heads off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and Louis wanders through the hallway for a moment, feeling vaguely sick with nerves. He had been fine singing to him the other day because it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but now that he knows he's going to sing, and share a part of himself that is so personal, he feels dizzy.

Louis is sitting on the edge of the bed when Harry enters the room, looking sleepy and childlike and adorable. The big t-shirt falls to mid-thigh and Louis can only hope he's wearing shorts beneath.

Harry approaches the bed and clambers onto it, crawling forward and squirming beneath the covers. Louis waits patiently as he gets situated, feeling awkward and completely unsure of what to do. After a moment he looks down to find big green eyes staring back up at him expectantly and he sucks in a deep breath, deciding just to get it over with.

"Do you have a song preference?"

"A lullaby."

Louis nods, swallowing quickly. The hesitation gives Harry time to scoot closer and nuzzle his face into the side of Louis' leg, since Louis is sitting up beside him. His big hand clutches at the fabric of Louis' sweatpants. Conceding, Louis slides his fingers into Harry's hair and strokes gently.

He begins to sing, and everything else falls away.