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~*Chapter 5*~

When Louis wakes up, it's to the smell of bacon wafting through the room. He can just make out the muffled sound of music and the fridge door shutting in the kitchen. Yawning, he rubs his eyes, reaching out for his phone. It's just gone 9:30am, practically the break of dawn to Louis. He stretches, curling his toes and turning over on the sheets. He lets himself lie there for a few moments, waking up properly and coming to his senses.

His mind starts to fill with muddled memories of last night and he feels his stomach flutter as he recalls them. How he'd lay on the grass with Harry looking up at the stars, the hug they'd shared and how Louis had wound his fingers through Harry's hair. His pulse quickens when he thinks back to that moment in the dark living room, have you ever? Inhaling deeply, there's a moment of realisation where it hits Louis that Harry had all but come out to him. How he'd done the same back. It should feel monumental, but it just feels good. Feels right.

His stomach grumbles and there's that familiar pang of hunger urging him to get up and out of bed, towards the smell of the bacon frying downstairs. He pulls himself up, rifling through his drawers for a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. Wandering into the en suite he stares at his reflection in the mirror, severely displeased with what greets him. His hair is sticking up everywhere, too many loose strands that refuse to be petted down into his fringe where they belong. He's got puffy eyes and dark circles underneath them, his lips chapped like they always get in the morning.

Grumbling, he brushes his teeth, breathing into his palm when he's finished to check his breath. He rubs a little vaseline over his lips, rubbing them together and praying it'll give the illusion of softness. It's a bit ridiculous, but he grabs a beanie from his bedside table and pulls it over his head, covering up the unruly bits as best he can. With one final check in the mirror, he wanders out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen.

The door is ajar and Louis cant help but grin as he looks into the room. Harry is bunched over the hob, a frying pan in hand. He's in a t-shirt and little black boxers that don't leave much to the imagination, like he's on some personal mission to raise Louis' blood pressure before 10am.

Louis can just make out the sound of bacon sizzling, it's muffled by an Arctic Monkeys record playing from his speakers and that's muffled by the sound of Harry singing along, blissfully unaware of Louis' presence.

Louis pauses, just standing in the doorway and watching Harry work. He imagines what it would be like to wake up to this every morning, what it would be like to wake up to Harry every morning. For a second he contemplates sneaking up on him, standing behind Harry and wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head against the broadness of his back. He swallows that thought along with a slight twinge of nerves before stepping into the kitchen and making his presence known.

"Mornin'" Louis croaks, voice still sounding heavy with sleep.

Harry turns around, offering Louis a toothy grin. "Good mornin'."

Louis takes a second to drink Harry in, and God, he's wearing one of Louis' t-shirts. It's small on him, leaving just a fraction of exposed skin between the waistband of his boxers and the hem of the shirt. Harry must notice Louis' stare because he clears his throat before quickly adding, "Oh, sorry about the t-shirt." He stammers, pulling at it with his free hand. "I would've put mine back on but it's covered in like...flour and eggs and unidentified baking substances."

Louis lets out a laugh, "Nah, it's fine. I don't mind, can keep it if ya want."

Louis watches Harry's mouth twitch upwards a little, "Oh, um. Thanks." Harry turns back around, giving the frying pan a shake and dodging out of the way when the bacon spits back at him. "Bacon sandwich?" Harry asks him over his shoulder.