In Too Deep (Dancing With The Shadows)

eight

Louis stares blankly at the eggs and bacon spitting in the pan, sun warming up the right side of his face from where it begins to peep through the window, dust particles in view of the window swirling in a dance.

Mabel pushes him lightly out the way to grab the tomatoes to fry along with the almost finished eggs.

"Can you be a little more helpful than stare at the food, Louis? Go on, grab the bread pop it in the toaster. Or do you not know how to do that?" she mocks, shaking her head.

Louis tucks his tongue in front of his teeth, trying to contain a grin. "Bitch," he kids and she snorts.

He grabs the bread from the pantry, chucking it in the toaster, hearing the low hum of the toaster.

"And for your information, Auntie Mabel, toast is my delicacy." He winks at her.

She quirks a brow. "Auntie Mabel? Seriously?"

He raises a shoulder, wipes his hands against the front of her floral apron, earning a swat with the spatula on the forehead.

He hisses and grabs the blackcurrant juice from the fridge, pouring it into a glass.

Peter swiftly comes in and grabs a slice of toast that's popped, kissing Louis on the top of the head and giving Mabel a squeeze before leaving to shut himself in the office.

Louis feels a little warm inside. His dad rarely ever gives him that type of affection unless he knows he needs it to chase out the dark. And with each passing day, it's getting harder and harder to keep the shadows from crowding.

"I'm guessing you'd want to take Harry's breakfast out to him," Mabel notes with a quirk of a brow.

Louis acts nonchalant. "Oh. This is for him? And I thought you just wanted me to stay fit and healthy." He looks down to the hashbrowns.

She threatens him with the spatula, coming closer with it poised in the air. "I'm not afraid to beat you up, Louis. I'm just a lady and wouldn't do such a thing." She turns back around. "Do you think he'd want pancakes as well?" She thumbs her bottom lip in thought.

"Look who's getting all flustered over the lad, hm?" Louis teases. "I'm sure he wouldn't throw a hissy fit if something is missing off his plate."

"But what if he's craving pancakes?" she gives, not biting back at the previous comment.

Louis raises a shoulder. "Then the world will end and we will all have to curl up in a ball and die a slow horrible, horrible death."

Mabel gives him a look. A look that Louis knows well, and tells him please shut the fuck up, you absolute annoying little git, but I still love you.

She does it more times than he can count.

His feet are swinging under the table, every now and again his toe will brush against Clifford's fur from where he lays under the table. "And to answer your question, Mabes. I'll gladly take Harry's breakfast to him. Not because my mind is so obsessively obsessed with him since the first time Felicite brought his first CD into our house, but because I'm a good host and a perfect little room service."

Mabel bites her bottom lip to stop from laughing. Louis gives her a fake scowl.

"Of course, Your Mighty." She bows mockingly and whips up some American style pancakes.

Louis bites his tongue that he prefers the thin ones. She's done so much for them already, he cannot complain.

He sees movement near the window and he looks up to see the familiar curls bouncing around broad shoulders that are covered with a tank top.