Teacher's Pet

Teacher's Pet: Chapter Ten

When Harry had been younger, his Mum had taught him a few life lessons.

Always be kind to others, don’t take anything in your life for granted, and such. He was pretty sure another one of those should’ve been, ‘don’t try to fuck your teacher’ but she’d made the mistake of leaving that one out, and now Harry was on his own in the cruel real world.

It wasn’t that he wanted to; it was that he had to. He couldn’t keep sitting in the back of that fucking psychology class, watching Mr. T not give a shit behind that little desk of his.

He absolutely had to just see if he could do it. See if it felt as good as he thought it would.

But now that he was actually being taken to the flat Harry had thought about for the past four months, he was in no mood to do anything but put something on his face and pass out.

Fucking Charles.

“You awake?” Mr. T-Louis-asked and Harry moaned quietly, watching his breath fog up the window. “You feel alright?”

Harry groaned again, because no, he didn’t feel alright. His left eye was swollen shut, his lip was bleeding, and his stomach was twisted with nerves and alcohol and was threatening to turn over at every bump in the road.

And now he looked like nothing more than a stupid kid to Louis.

Louis stopped the car and Harry slowly undid his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, doing his best to keep balanced, but the ground was slick with ice and snow and he ended up slipping right on his ass. Louis winced and offered him a hand up, gently tugging him to his feet, and keeping his warm, strong, grip on his arm as he tugged him up the stairs.

“You know you’re not even legal,” Louis muttered, and Harry propped himself against the wall next to Louis’ flat door, while his teacher struggled to unlock it.

        

“Were you legal when you drank when you were sixteen?”

“You’re sixteen,” Louis muttered and Harry smirked, “Jesus Christ.”

“Thought I was older. Is it because I’m so mature?” He asked, raising a brow and Louis rolled his eyes and tugged Harry into the flat.

“Oh, yes, so mature,” Louis muttered and Harry’s shoulders sagged as he released his grip on him. It had been nice. “Sit down on that couch, I’m going to go get something for your face.”

Harry sat down slowly on the couch and looked around the flat. It was neater than Harry had pictured in his mind, because yes, Harry had pictured this very moment in his mind quite a few times. Most didn’t include him beaten and bloody, but hey, he’d take it.

He’d pictured it a bit bigger too, but he supposed that was a teacher’s salary for you.

What he had pictured, and what was true, was the smell. It smelled like Louis, with an undertone of cigarette smoke, that Harry wasn’t sure where came from, because Louis didn’t have smokers teeth. Regardless, it smelled like the musky sweetness of Louis’ car and the papers Harry got back, marked up with curious questions about him.