pretty please (with sugar on top) - larry stylinson

25

Things went downhill when the group got up to go play a game of pool.

It would've been fine except that, while Harry expected to play, everyone else ignored him and assumed he would rather watch than participate. Since there was an even number of people if Harry was included, they had to go out of their way to exclude him. The subtle sexism irked him, but it wasn't a big enough deal for him to confront anyone about it. It was just a game of pool, after all.

Louis noticed what was happening a little too late. The complicated teams had already been decided.

"Wait, isn't Harry playing?"

"It's fine, Lou," he assured, taking a seat on a barstool with a good vantage point to cheer Louis on. Playing pool was fun but tonight there would be a certain pressure on him, like he had to prove something for the sake of defending his gender. So it was probably best that he wasn't playing. Sometimes he didn't even think about how he was an omega, but right now was not one of those times.. He felt on display sitting up here in his white jeans, but he ignored it all in favor of focusing on the one alpha who was sweet and kind enough to catch his attention.

Louis looked torn. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

It was fun watching Louis around people who were sort of his friends, especially Nick. Despite the annoyance and name-calling earlier, Louis was soft with him in a way Harry had never witnessed between alphas before. It made sense, though, because while Louis was strong and tough and had a take no shit attitude, he was also one of the gentlest alphas Harry had ever met.

He didn't let his temper get the best of him, he never turned unreasonably angry or full of rage, he didn't use physical intimidation to get his way, and so on. Sure, he was inclined to manspread whenever he sat down and he always swore like a sailor, but Harry was sure he would move his legs if someone needed a seat and the swearing was harmless anyways.

Once the game was over, they switched to playing darts to let another group have the table. Harry joined in this time. Even though he was nervous, he knew he was a good shot. The look of surprise on everyone's face when he hit a bullseye on his first try was deeply satisfying.

After the game was over, and Harry's team had won, he whispered to Louis that he was going to the bathroom to freshen up. Really, he just needed a break from being surrounded by people he didn't know very well. He pissed, washed his hands, splashed water on his face, and then stared at his reflection in the mirror for way too long.

When he got back to the group, they all quieted down abruptly. It was obvious they'd been talking about him.

Harry had caught the tail end of the conversation though. It'd been a symphony of raucous laughter and a collective agreement to someone remarking thick thighs, nice ass. Good job Louis. I bet he's great in bed.

He looked to Louis who was staring at his empty beer bottle like it was the most interesting thing in the world. His jaw was clenched and his face was paler than usual.

Sitting his 'nice ass' on the barstool again, Harry pulled out his phone just to fiddle with something. The worst thing about comments like this was that they were always wrapped up in a compliment, somehow, so that he'd have a split-second flash of pride before he realized how shitty the words made him feel.

"Do you want a drink from the bar? I'm gonna get another."

"Sure. Surprise me," he tried to smile, smoothing his hands down his 'thick thighs.' The white denim felt stiff under his palms, surprisingly unmarked from any dirt or spilled food.