Larry Stylinson Oneshots

Hi into his

Author: 1drabbithole

Summary:Louis likes to draw on Harry.

___

Harry didn’t tell Louis he wanted to get a tattoo. Louis had kind of made this face a couple months ago when Zayn had gotten that thing on his forearm. And he called it “clipart.” Since then Harry had felt like he needed to keep his excitement about getting one under wraps. And it was like torture to keep his mouth shut around Lou; he usually told him everything. He had wanted Lou to help him come up with a cool design.

It didn’t help that Louis leaned over on the tour bus and started doodling on Harry’s palm with his pen while they drove between cities. The black lines traced out random spirals, and Lou’s fingers cradled the back of Harry’s hand while he drew. Harry leaned his head back on the headrest and watched Lou bite at the corner of his lip.

“Just don’t draw dicks on me,” Harry said softly.

Louis looked mischievous. He shrugged. “It’s not permanent ink.” Then he drew a dick.

Harry tackled him, laughing and wrestling the pen away from him when they thudded onto the floor in a squirming, smiling heap. Lou pouted out his lower lip, but his eyes were smiling. Harry gave the pen back. Lou kissed his cheek.

A few days later, Harry woke up to Lou drawing on the inside of his bicep.

“Seriously, mate, no dicks. It’s gonna show under my shirt.”

Lou leaned in close and whispered, “I want it to show.”

Harry stopped breathing until Lou climbed out of his bunk again, looking back over his shoulder with a unreadable smile as he crawled into his own bunk across the aisle. Harry scrambled to the toilet and held his arm up to see in the mirror. There was a red star drawn there. Harry slowly traced his fingertip over the outline and blushed. It didn’t wash all the way off for a week. Lou kept touching him on that arm, or at least it seemed that way.

Harry had fancied Lou from the day they’d met. They’d fallen into this easy friendship that wasn’t just a friendship. At least not on Harry’s side. He loved it when Lou would put a finger through his beltloop to drag him closer during a photoshoot. Or when he’d push a stray curl of Harry’s hair into the right spot and give a satisfied smile. Harry was just never 100% sure if Lou wanted more than what they had.

****

Then Leeds happened. After a long day of absolutely stellar music, they’d crawled into the tent they’d borrowed from Harry’s stepdad.

“That was ace!” Harry grinned from ear to ear as he stripped off his kit, trying to keep his muddy boots off their sleeping bags.

Louis was strangely quiet. Harry expected him to be bouncing around the tent with the adrenaline of the day they’d just had. Harry finished pulling his t-shirt over his head just to be met with Lou’s face.

“Haz,” Louis breathed. The gentle warmth of his exhale brushed against Harry’s cheek. Louis put a hand on Harry’s knee and Harry’s stomach lurched with excitement. “Um... thanks, yeah? For coming here. With me.”

Harry realized he probably had a shocked expression on his face when Lou pulled his hand back. Lou dropped his eyes. He pushed off his Wellingtons and lined them up neatly in the corner of the tent.

“No, wait,” Harry croaked.

Lou looked up.

“I mean...” Harry was too scared to say the next part in case he was reading the signs wrong. What the hell did Harry Styles know about reading signs? He had been a 16 year old virgin and now he was suddenly famous. Girls (and a few boys) threw themselves at him daily. It’s not like he had to figure out when someone was giving him a sign. Harry looked down at his lap. He suddenly felt really shirtless.