I Hate You ~ Louis Tomlinson

DRUNK DANCING

"Oh god. HARRY! HARRY!" Louis screams, basically at the top of his lungs.

"What? What?" He says rushing into the room only falling over slightly as he isn't as intoxicated as he once was.

"Oh my god. She's naked and on the table and oh god." Louis says as he tries to peel his eyes away, but he can't. He just can't.

Natalie in her drunken state is playing music from her phone and dancing on the table. No good reason for it really, just seems like a good idea to her at the moment.

"She's not naked Lou." Harry replies with an amused smile.

"Well basically." He says with exaggerated hand motions.

"She has a bra and panties on." Harry shrugs.

"I can very well see that Harold thank you and never say panties again."

"Well what do you call them?" Harry asks still very amused at the situation.

"Never mind, do something about it! She can't just be up there like that for everyone to look at." Louis says back, unimpressed at how Harry is not taking this seriously. 

"Everyone? It's only us here. And no one else seems to have a problem with it but you." Haary replies eying him.

Louis loudly huffs and throws his t-shirt off over his head and hands it to her. "Here put this on now and don't fight me on it." He all but growls.

"Aye aye captain," she says laughing and saluting him, but not yet putting it on.

"Put. It. On." He grits out.

"Okay," she mumbles, looking down and putting it over her head. She sits on the table cross legged and sulks.

"Harry," she whines just noticing he was in the room and desperately needing a cuddle. Not much of a surprise, drunk Natalie is clingy.

Harry comes over to her quickly, picking her up and putting her in his lap.

Louis huffs angrily and leaves the room.

The next morning Natalie wakes up and immediately goes out to the kitchen. She doesn't feel too bad, but she's thirsty as anything. 

"Why the fuck am I in your shirt?" She says to Louis.

"You were the one dancing naked on the table." Louis replies flatly. 

"I had on a bra and underwear." She replies sassily.

"Basically the same thing."

"Well not really at all because it covers all the important parts."

"It's inappropriate."

"You walk around in your boxers all the time."

"I don't dance." He says crossing his arms. 

"Oh yeah, dancing is taking it too far. Ugh it smells like you." She says scrunching up her nose.

"Yeah, don't like it? Then give it back."

"Fine," she hastily takes it off crumples it in a ball and throws it at him.

"Aren't you hung over?" He seethes, rubbing his temples, and trying not to look at her.

"Mad I can handle alcohol better than you?"

He scoffs, "I wasn't the one dancing on the table."

"That's because you can't dance. And what were you doing looking at me dancing basically naked, hm?"

"I wasn't looking."