Larry Stylinson One Shots

too deep for this ship

AN// Forewarning — this is 18, almost 19k long. Thank you to my wonderful beta Zoe for editing this for me, and thank you to Bonnie and Aaya for being lovely people. :) I hope you enjoy! :)

Xx

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The earliest parts of morning—when everything is still dewy, the air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is painted with light and dark purples splashed with faint pinks and dotted with wispy clouds—is the time Louis loves best. He loves breathing in the fresh air that smells like the sea, letting it fill and expand his lungs after hours inside his stuffy flat. He loves the beautiful colours that make up the sky, still transitioning from night to day, faint hints of stars against darker violet in the west and light purples and crimsons mixing in the east. He loves it all.

Louis grew up pressing snooze twice every morning and being the grumpiest morning person. If someone were to even say Louis and morning in the same sentence he'd cringe.

Now, on the other hand, Louis' not only used to waking up with the birds with a smile, but he embraces it. It's especially nice on the mornings he has work because he gets to work just as the sun starts rising, gets to watch how the sky changes, gets to watch the birds come alive and flock together, all while doing his favourite thing: working at the docks.

His granddad did it after retiring from fishing, and Louis had always been fascinated whenever he came to stay with his grandparents for the weekend. He always loved coming to the docks with his granddad, watching him clean up the docks, check on the ties of the boats to make sure they were tight enough, check on the occupants of the boats (if they lived in them) to make sure they were alive and healthy, even picking up small jobs here and there to help clean the decks and insides of the boats for a little extra ice-cream money.

That's why Louis moved to Crimbleton Cove when he was nineteen, after his granddad died. He was planning on going to uni, but his grandma would no doubt have been lonely and Louis was able to fill in for his granddad easily.

He does everything his granddad did, except more. There's a little bakery sectioned off a little way from the main street, close to the docks, where Louis will pick up extra shifts at if they need it, and the little kids always running around—watching the fishermen unload when they come back—get so excited when he invites them to help him clean up the slightly rocky shore. Often they'll find a small crab or a cockle, tiny fingers dipping into the water, eyes wide and curious. Louis loves that he's causing them to become excited about the sea, just as he was when he was their age.

Though he's usually chatting with fishermen and shooing away cats, this particular morning, like yesterday morning and a few mornings last week, Louis was asked to help in the, hm, should he say, richer end of the docks. Which sounds a horrible, he knows, but it's true. There's the fishing boats and smaller boats that people live in, and then a bit further up is where the private yachts and vessels dock.

Louis prefers it with Larry and Paul and Liall, helping tame some particularly nippy crabs sometimes or sharing a pint down at the local pub. He's not really fond of keeping the docks spic and span and listening to snobs complain about (god forbid) bird shit and being paid two measly fucking pounds for helping carrying ten bags on board a fifty foot yacht for an overnight stay out on the water.

But, Liam—Louis' best mate and the guy who usually mans these nicer parts—has apparently met someone and has been staying up too late to be able to man the docks in the morning like usual. Louis' only taking his place because Liam promised him a full day's pay for every time Louis helps, and the first round free at the pub.