Love is War (L.S.)

15

Louis wakes to a mouthful of curls.

He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily in an attempt to clear his blurry vision. He can feel the tiredness still enveloping his muscles as he shifts further into the warm body next to him. It's nice, Louis thinks. He can feel the soft sheets rustling against his skin, can feel a cool breeze hitting his hair, and it's just so...comfortable. 

Louis blinks open his eyes again slowly and sees an unfamiliar ceiling. He glances over to his left to find unfamiliar walls, an unfamiliar nightstand, and an unfamiliar feeling. 

He hears the faint noise of a snuffle and practically breaks his neck as he turns to the right of him, only to be greeted with a head of curls. 

Styles is lying next to him, no, more like he's lying on him. He's got his head buried in Louis' neck and his cheek resting on his shoulder. Louis looks down and he can see a little patch of drool on his sleeve. His arm is lying limp over Louis' stomach and he has one leg nestled in between Louis' own. He practically draped himself over Louis during the course of the night and he didn't even register it. 

Louis takes a deep breath as he remembers the events of the previous night. He remembers having to help Styles into the cab, into the building, and eventually into his bedroom. He remembers how he wanted to leave but Styles had grabbed his hands and then his hip. 

I can't stop thinking about the face you made when you came.

Louis gulps and remembers that he had wanted to go. He wanted to leave and get back to his own place, sleep in his own comfortable hotel bed. But then, 

I'm tired of sleeping alone.

He shouldn't care and yet here he is, practically pinned to the mattress by this giraffe of a man.

 Louis shifts a little and attempts to get the other man off of him because no, this cannot be happening. He refuses to let feelings of warmth, comfort, and contentment enter his body while they lie together in this position. He slowly drags Styles' hand off his stomach and pushes him gently onto his back. 

Apparently, he's not gentle enough because the movement causes Styles' eyes to flutter open. Louis watches him make sense of his surroundings; watches him make sense of the way they're lying so close together in bed. He stares at the close proximity of their bodies before dragging his eyes up to scan Louis' face. He looks so tired with the remnants of sleep still littering his features, but Louis watches as something unrecognizable paints his features for a beat. Styles shifts a little away from him before turning on his side, leaving his back to Louis' face. 

And okay?

"What are you doing here?" he hears Styles mumble with his back still facing Louis. His voice is unbelievably deep and raspy. 

Louis stares at the back of his head. "You asked me to stay," he mumbles back in disbelief. 

It might be in Louis' head but he swears he sees the muscles in Styles' jaw clench before he speaks again. "I don't remember that."

Louis huffs a laugh. 'I'd be surprised if you did mate, you were severely out of it."

"M'not your mate," he whispers and Louis just knows he's wearing a pout. 

"My mistake. Forgot you didn't like the term." Louis drags his eyes away from the back of the other man's head and toward the ceiling. "Hey, do you think we could all take a day in from meetings today, considering we're all hungover?"

"No," he grumbles. 

"You know, you're the boss which means you can."

"Which is why I'm saying no."