Love is War (L.S.)

8

Lenders International Deposits Office was huge. That's all Louis could think about as he sat in the black Range Rover a block away from the building with a black briefcase situated on his lap. It was cream all over with eggshell white moldings. It also looked incredibly intimidating. Louis knew, logically, that even if he was caught and arrested for doing what he was about to do, Browski would get him off. He knew whatever worst-case scenario happened, it would be fine. 

Except for death of course...that might be bad. 

He glanced to his left and found Styles staring out the opposite window. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, seeing that there was just a little park opposite the bank. He should be looking at the place where Louis could potentially die, but no, let's stare at the grass on the ground outside together.

The ride to the deposits office building had been quiet...to say the least. Neither one of them attempted to make conversation and neither one of them attempted to even look at each other. Louis fiddled with his fingers and tried to inconspicuously check if Browski or Lorne had texted him. (They hadn't). And Styles kept himself occupied with his own phone. When Louis took a closer look at one point, he saw him furiously typing a message out to someone that Louis didn't want to trade places with, given the size and length of the paragraph. 

Swift and the English bloke they apparently know (Louis now knows his name is Timmy) are already inside. They're supposed to wait for Swift's text before sending Louis in. 

He's getting rather impatient if he's being honest. Just wants to get it over with. He can't quite keep still and he thinks that Styles is aware, given how he'll catch him looking at Louis' leg which hasn't stopped jumping since he got in the car. 

Louis decides he needs a distraction and turns in his seat fully to face the other man. They're both dressed in rather posh, professional attire. Louis himself is in a black turtleneck with black trousers and a matching suit jacket. While Styles is in his black satin blouse and black suit pants that are bordering on skinny jeans. 

"So how come you aren't joining us in there? I'd have thought the man in charge would want to see how his employees play," Louis starts, hoping he sounds more cheeky than genuinely curious about the answer. 

Styles grants him the briefest moment of eye contact before he faces forward. Louis takes note of the fact that he's playing with the rings on his fingers. 

"This is a small job," he responds matter-of-factly, "M'not needed in there."

"You won't come in at all? Even if something goes wrong?" Louis doesn't like the idea of the man responsible for all these people running in the opposite direction when things get tough. Browski is an idiot but at the very least, he has his team's back.

"Are you worried I won't be there to protect you, Louis?" His deep voice rasps out. 

Louis exhales sharply through his nose and is about to respond with a snarky comment when Styles' phone pings. He glances down, and Louis notices a downward tilt to the corner of his lips. 

"You can go in now," he tells him, eyes still fixed on the phone in his hand. 

Louis nods once, picking up the briefcase, and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He unbuckles his seat belt and reminds himself that nothing bad will happen to him. He isn't one of them, regardless of how it goes inside. He clears his throat and moves to exit the vehicle when a hand lands atop his arm, stopping his movements.

Styles leans slightly over the center console and says ever so softly, 'Remember, if you need saving just scream and I'll come running for you."

His eyes are full of mirth and there's a small smile playing on his features. Louis wants to punch him.