Larry Stylinson Smut

fire and ice (watching stars collide)

It's their four year anniversary.

It's their four year anniversary and Harry still hasn't gotten Louis a gift. Which is weird, considering he always shops months early for gifts. But he just can't find anything, and he's meeting Louis for dinner at the place they met tonight. He's got three hours to find a gift, get showered, dressed, and show up at dinner. Great.

Harry's now wandering the mall hopelessly, vaguely missing the small, warm presence by his side. He's been here thirty minutes, and just got around to the second level.

Then he sees it, and it's like the worlds have aligned for this moment.

Victoria's Secret.

Harry knows what he's getting Louis.

_

"Guess who," Harry comes up behind Louis in their favorite little diner, putting his massive hands over Louis' eyes.

Louis giggles and falsely ponders, "Hmm... Could it be Michael Jackson back from the dead?"

"Try again."

A pause, "Susan Boyle."

Harry's now biting his lip in an effort to not break his face in a smile, "You're getting warmer."

Louis gasps dramatically, "Is it my boyfriend whose hands cover almost my entire face?"

Harry drops his hands and bends down, kissing Louis' temple before whispering in his ear, "Bingo."

Then there's a pair of blue eyes full of happyhappyhappylovelovelove that turn to meet Harry's, eyelashes fluttering against his nose. If his nose had a dick, it'd totally be hard right now (too weird?).

"Hi, baby," Harry's deep voice rumbles, just for Louis.

Louis lightly grasps Harry's jaw with his hand as he slowly attaches their lips, reveling in the plush softness of Harry's lips and the strong outline of his jawline. Harry's hand goes to cover Louis' hand, intertwining their fingers. Louis kisses back harder, teeth slightly nibbling at Harry's lower lip. All Harry can taste is tea and mint and Louis.

Harry pulls back, knowing there's plenty of time for that later. He places one last kiss on the corner of Louis' pink lips before sitting in his respective seat across from Louis. He takes in the loose t-shirt from Harry's college football team and the way it slings across the prominent shadows of Louis' collarbones. His eyes graze up to Louis' high cheekbones, seeing a light rose color, knowing Louis' blushing under the attention (honestly, after four years of it, you'd think he'd be used to it).

"I love that shirt on you," Harry comments with a small smile, still part wondering how he ever landed this boy.

Louis smiles back, white teeth on show, "You only love it because it's yours."

"True. But also because you look adorably small in it." Harry admits, smirking.

Harry has a thing for Louis in his clothes. Louis has a thing for wearing Harry's clothes. Harry also has a thing for Louis wearing his t-shirts paired with a pair of lacy lingerie underwear. Louis likes doing that, too. It all works out.

"Stuff it," Louis pretends to hate being small, but Harry knows he loves their size difference, loves how easily Harry can pick Louis up.

"I love youuuu," Harry sing-songs, childish dimples making a shadowed imprint in his cheeks.

Louis just laughs because Harry knows that means I love you.

"Hello, gentlemen! What can I get you to drink?" An older waiter with a receding hairline approaches their table.