Larry Stylinson Oneshots

Cat-astrophe

A/N : this is one of my favorite one shots...probably because I am a cat person but I love this one!

Author: dea_liberty

Summary: Louis comes home to find Harry curled up in Louis' jumper on the couch. The difference between today and every other day is the fact that Harry has somehow been turned into a cat. Confusion, insanity and boys being boys - but at the end of the day, Louis finds out that things don't actually change all that much.

___

Louis comes home to find Harry curled up in Louis' jumper on the couch. That in itself isn't all that strange; Louis often comes home to find Harry curled on/in/under - delete as appropriate - his clothes. It's not the sort of thing that usually makes him stop dead in the doorway and stare. Usually, it just makes him smile and brings about the urge to either leave Harry be, sleeping like a baby, or pounce on him immediately and tickle him awake.

Today, the sight inspires neither of those feelings in him. Today, there is absolutely nothing Louis can do but stand there staring. And then he stares some more.

Today, Harry is a cat. An actual, real, four-legged, pointy-eared, long-tailed cat with stupidly messy, windswept fur and - when cat!Harry there opens his eyes and blinks sleepily at Louis - Harry's stupidly green eyes.

"Holy shit," says Louis. "Hazza, you're a cat."

"Mew," says Harry.

Louis does the only sensible thing and passes out.

--

The next thing Louis knows, he's staring at the ceiling and the cat - Harry - is staring down at him with a look of concern, pink tongue darting out and almost catching Louis in the eye. Louis blinks at him. Harry blinks back. Louis blinks again.

"Mew?" says Harry. Louis thinks it might be a question - something a little like "are you okay?" and Louis shakes his head. No, no, he's not okay. He's probably got a concussion and he's definitely going crazy because he thinks his best friend is a cat.

"You're a cat," he says a little stupidly. What else is he supposed to say? What else could anyone expect him to say? His best friend is a fucking cat.

"Mew," says Harry patiently with something that looks suspiciously like a sigh of someone who has suffered a great deal and bears it all with the patience of a saint. It also sounds suspiciously like someone settling in, ready to exert even more patience.

"A cat."

"Mew." Harry gives him what the others like to call Harry's "oh Louis" look - the one reserved for the days Louis' acting less mature than usual and everyone else is getting a little annoyed. As it turns out, it looks almost exactly the same in cat form as it does usually.

--

"A cat."

"Mew."

They've moved from the floor by the door to the kitchen table - well, the table for Harry, the chair for Louis. Harry's gone from pacing to sitting and, finally, to lying down, head on his paws (paws, Jesus Christ), looking distinctly less patient and distinctly more bored with each repetition of this question and answer session. Louis doesn't really blame him.

"A cat," he says for the four-millionth time.

"Mew," Harry says and flips onto his back, giving Louis what would have been a terrifying glare. Except it was really not incredibly scary coming from a tiny ball of black fur. To add even more drama to the moment, he throws up his paws and covers his face. "Mew."