Play the Odds

6 - April

April

A few months ago at this time, Harry would’ve been down in the kitchen, shoveling bacon and eggs onto a plate for a sleepy Louis, trading yawns and carefully counted kisses back and forth.

Now, Harry stays in bed a little later, though he has a good excuse; Louis is curled up against his chest, tracing the curve of his bicep with a sweeping, tired finger.

It’s a quiet, bright morning; Niall’s already gone for the day, and Liam’s puttering around in the kitchen, if the muted sound of kitchen cupboards opening and closing is anything to go by. Sunlight falls warm across the bed, and Harry has absolutely no desire to be anywhere but right here.

He leans down and kisses Louis’ hair, utterly content.

“One thousand,” Louis mumbles.

“Hmm?”

“That was one thousand,” Louis repeats, rolling over to face Harry. “According to your score sheet, anyway.”

“Was it really?” Harry muses, running a soft hand through Louis’ messy bedhead. “I was putting about half the tallies we actually needed in the last few weeks, so I figure we actually passed a thousand a long time ago.”

Louis snorts, burying his face in Harry’s shoulder. “You were cheating? Harry, you terrible person.”

Harry shrugs, unapologetic. “Didn’t want you to stop kissing me.” Louis’ smile widens, his eyes bright. “What?”

“When I wrote our tally marks on the score sheets, I did them in pencil so I could go back and erase some of them later,” he admits.

“Louis,” Harry gasps, faux-scandalised, then pulls his boyfriend closer. He traces a path up Louis’ spine, his bare skin warm under the blanket. Then, suddenly, something occurs to him. “Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“That means I won,” Harry says, grinning widely. “I was the first one to a thousand, officially. I won.”

Louis sits up, his eyes narrowed. “You did not.”

“I win,” Harry repeats gleefully. “I finally win a bet!”

“No,” Louis says. “No!”

“I win!”

“You do not!”

There’s a short scuffle as Louis clambers onto Harry, sitting on his thighs and trying to twist his nipples. Harry laughs and bats his hands away, arm shielding his upper chest from Louis’ quick fingers.

“I always knew I could do it,” Harry says through the attack. “And I could do it again, too.”

Louis stills above him, eyes bright. “Wanna bet?”

Harry grins back at him, and then tugs Louis down for a warm, lingering kiss.

“That’s one,” he whispers when they break apart.

1 - 0.