Larry Stylinson Oneshots

The day Harry murdered Louis

Author : lifeoftheparty74

Summary: It's been a long day; Harry hasn't had time to rest at all, so forgive him if all he wants to do is spend some time with his boy eating take-out and relaxing. Louis has a surprise for him,
though

___

It’s been a long day; in between two meetings with his team, a suit fitting in preparation for next  week, a lunch date with an old high school friend and picking up some flea shampoo for poor Bruce, Harry hasn’t really had the chance to rest all day. So forgive him if he doesn’t notice
anything odd when he first walks through the door into his house. Vaguely, he registers in the back of his mind that something about the way their shoes are arranged in the hallway is looking a little
odd; Aren’t Louis’ sneakers usually more purposelessly thrown around and Harry’s boots more organized and lined up to the left side?

There are more pressing matters, though: Like the fact that his own voice is carrying the soft tunes of Sweet Creature through the rooms of the house, or the delicious smell of fresh Italian pasta meeting his nostrils.

Closing the door to the hallway, he makes his way through the kitchen, where he spots the familiar  cardboard boxes with Angelo’s spelled in elegant red letters. Harry follows his nose, leading him tothe delicious smell coming from the dining table where two lavishly filled plates, accompanied by two glasses of red wine and a platter of bread make up most of the space. The closer he gets, the louder his own song is audible, but now supported by a softer, maybe more-familiar-than-his-own voice.

The picture is completed when he rounds the corner, with Louis standing next to the table typing away on his phone and softly singing along. He’s wearing dark sweatpants, a beige turtleneck that’s so big Harry is confident it belongs to him, and his hair pulled back into a half-bun with a bright hair tie that again, Harry is confident definitely does not belong to Louis himself. He’s barefooted, and all in all, he looks fucking adorable.

“Lou.”

It’s spoken soft, not much louder than a whisper, but his boyfriend immediately looks up, abandons his phone on the table and makes his way to hug him. Harry steps forward, reaching out his arms,
about to pull Louis in, when.

When He sees.

His boy is wearing eyeliner.

His boy is wearing eyeliner.

It’s the tiniest line: just a bit of darkness on his upper and lower lashline, and.

It looks amazing.

“Lou.” It’s said again. In the background, he registers the song changing to Ever Since New York, but he’s frozen in place. The simple syllable, said for the second time in a few minutes and the only
word either of them have said yet to each other, brings across a thousand things.

Harry hasn’t even figured out what half of them are yet, but Louis gets it. It’s schock, excitement, pride.

Arousal.

“D’ya like it then?”

Harry is speechless; Louis is standing in front of him, looking entirely casual with fucking eyeliner on. This is what he’s bugged Harry about non-stop the past two weeks; asking if he’d look good, asking if he should, asking if it’s even a good idea. Louis was so stressed about whether or not he wanted to start wearing makeup, and here he is, looking confident and so fucking hot.

“Like it? Lou, I love it.”

Louis is the one who takes the final step, who closes the distance and embraces his boyfriend. He.goes in for a kiss, a short peck like usual when they get home, but Harry’s wound up and he’s surprised and happy and he deepens it without a second thought, nibbling on Louis lower lip, licking into his mouth, and pecking his lips again and again.

“Haz, stop, c’mon love, we gotta eat first.” Louis murmurs into his mouth and they pull apart and oh, Harry’s hands are on the smaller boy’s behind all of a sudden, but then again, it is a great behind.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, staring into blue but it’s surrounded by black, not 100% sure what he was agreeing to again, until Louis pulls him to the table and he sits down in front of his favourite takeout meal in England.They talk about anything and everything during dinner, about important things, less important things, random things, funny things, and anything they come up with they want to share with each
other. They avoid just one subject: the makeup that keeps drawing Harry’s attention, that keeps making him forget about eating altogether. He gets his chance to show how proud he is of his
boyfriend later, though, in bed - Their bedroom is filled with soft murmurs of appreciation, declarations of love and whispers of thoughts only meant for their own ears. They take their time, and it is way past midnight when Harry ventures down to make them both a cup of tea as a last thing before they go to sleep.

It’s only then that he notices, though.

“Hey Lou?”

“Yeah Love?”

“What are my Chelsea boots doing in Bruce’s bed?”