Gods & Monsters

Chapter 17 (Part 2)

But Harry's still grinning unknowingly and suddenly everything seems a little sour.

Swallowing, Louis musters up all the strength he has to smile. "Here," he parrots back, holding the strap of his bag, and Harry laughs, just because, as he continues to stare at him.

A few moments pass, the sun shining down. And then Harry snaps to it, blinking a few successive times as he steps back.

"Sorry," he mumbles, flushing, gesturing Louis inside. "I'm just a bit, uhm. Zoned out, I guess?" He laughs once as Louis crosses the threshold, shuts the door behind him.

"So," Louis says, once they're inside where it's quiet. Very quiet. He sets down his bag with a thump on the floor. Toes off his shoes. Smiles up at Harry and ignores the slither of his conscience. "What shall we do?"

Harry grins immediately. "Well. Are you hungry?"

He snorts. "I'm always hungry, Sasspup."

"Oh, good!" Harry claps (actually claps) before he finds Louis' hands, immediately dragging him towards the kitchen. Their socked feet slide on the floors and their smiles grow with every step, fingers laced together. "Because I've made us dinner. Properly," he adds, proud, making Louis laugh. "And there are candles and everything."

"Candles?" Louis asks, clutching his heart. "Whatever did I do to deserve candles?"

They stop then, Harry halting on the spot, making Louis jump. Without word, he tugs Louis close, wrapping long arms around his neck in a way that feels more familiar against his skin than his own shirts do. He smells like he's been cooking—smells like seasonings and butter and warmth. He smiles quietly down at Louis, bumping his nose against his own which Louis really wishes he didn't find so endearing.

"You're you," Harry mumbles, pressing brief kisses to Louis' mouth. "And that's why you deserve the entire world's worth of candles." Louis feels himself grin, chest warming. "But. Alas. All I have is two and just some dinner to start. So I hope you like it."

"Of course I'll like it," Louis whispers back immediately, hands pressing into Harry's back, and he's gone, isn't he? He's gone, gone, gone. "You could set your shoe in a frying pan and I'll gladly eat every bit of it, will eat it every day forever. That's the price I pay for being weak for you. Enjoy your power, young one."

Harry beams, laughing under his breath. "Not weak," he argues. "Strong."

Of course he said that. Louis can only smile.

"Now come on," Harry continues, pulling him along. "Time for dinner." He grins lopsidedly, his curls shiver with his movements, and his fingers grasp onto Louis' with warmth and unyielding strength.

And, suddenly, Louis isn't so terrified anymore.

**

It was a brilliant meal. Which is less than surprising—Louis never had any doubt about it.

But now he's painfully full and sated and warm, legs kicked up as he splays his body on the couch; Harry's bloated figure is lying on the floor beside him, eyes closed with a smile playing upon his face. The lights are few, the shadows are warm, and the silence hums along pleasantly, interspersed by the crackling of the fireplace.

"I feel fat," Louis grunts, watching Harry.

Harry's lips quirk even moreso. "Good," he mumbles slowly, body weighted and sleepy. "I want to fatten you up. Make you a nice plump husband."

Oh jesus.

Despite the lethargy of his body, Louis balks out a laugh. "Well, then. At least you're finally revealing your true intentions," he teases, half-arsedly attempting to swat at him from his perch. "Whatcha trying to do—stuff the pig before he's cooked? Do you have plans, Mr. Styles?" Grinning, he turns onto his side to face him.