Atomic (your hair is beautiful) - Larry [complete]

Chapter 6

Harry woke up with a throbbing head and a right arm tied to a bedpost, which, hmm, how did he get on this bed? Someone had even tucked him in, but fortunately the sheets were soft, feeling like silk. It reminded him that his head, on the other hand, didn’t quite feel like silk. He tried to sit up but his limbs didn’t quite listen to what his brain was telling them, so he almost fell of the bed.

Luckily Super Louis was there to save the day, catching Harry and laying him back in bed.

“The drugs aren’t yet out of your system, Curly. Take it easy.”

“You drugged me?” Harry groaned, as he started to feel nauseous. The bed started to swing, swing like a boat. Harry hoped he wouldn’t drown. Or that Louis would save him if he did. Like a mermaid. Merman.

“Hmm,” Louis answered absently as he got to sit on the floor, “Are you going to puke? You look kinda green.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, but as he noticed Louis had drastically changed the subject he cried, “But now explain why you found it necessary to drug me? Again?”

“Hmm?” Louis asked again, then lifted a shoulder, “Oh, you know I had to handle some things and I didn’t know what to do with you. You were only out for a bit less than a day.”

“But that didn’t mean you had to drug me!”

“Didn’t it, Harold? Is it really your place to say that?”

“I… It… Of course!” Harry stuttered, trying to come up with a good argument, “And don’t call me Harold. It makes me feel old!”

“Why not? I quite like the sound of it, Harold. Doesn’t sound old at all to me.’

“It literally has the word old in it.” Harry answered.

Louis thought long and hard about that, squinting his eyes, looking up at the ceiling as well as Harry to search for the answer, before slowly shaking his head, “No, I don’t see it. Sorry, Harold,” he shrugged, “The importerer question is if you’re able to get up and eat.”

“No, the more important question is why you’re wearing a tiara,” Harry shot back.

“Oh, this little thing?” He reached up to feel, like he had almost forgotten he was wearing it in the first place, afterwards he shrugged again, “I just wear it to match with your tutu.”

“What?” Harry scrunched his eyebrows. Tutu. Tutu. Tutu. Wait, what? He instantly lifted the sheet, only to be met with the sight of a very pink tutu instead of trousers.

“Where are my pants?” he cried out, “Wait, no. Why am I wearing a tutu?”

Louis shrugged again, one step closer to becoming a professional shrugger, “I didn’t think you would like sleeping in those tight jeans, really I don’t even understand how you can breathe in them, but then I noticed that in no parallel universe my sweatpants would ever fit your enormous yeti-legs, so that was the only thing that did fit.”

“I don’t have yeti-legs,” Harry shot back, very offended, “And why do you have a pink tutu in the first place?”

Louis just gave him a cryptic smile, letting him figure that one out on his own.

Harry lifted the tutu for only to be met with Batman underwear, so he quickly pulled the tutu back down, “And why am I wearing Batman underwear?”

“Your others were dirty.”

And okay, Harry should’ve remembered that. His cheeks turned a dark scarlet as he though back of the memory of Louis giving him a hand job. Trying to get the awkward topic to leave the room, he asked, “So what was this about food that you mentioned earlier on?”

Louis perked up again, “Oh, yeah. Are you able to get up and eat something?”

Harry shrugged. Shit, he had already taken that over form Louis. It was contagious. That meant he was also one step closer to becoming a professional criminal. And pyromaniac. And kleptomaniac. And possibly merman, although he didn’t quite remember anymore why he thought Louis was a merman in the first place. Hmm.

His head was still throbbing, but he was getting more and more feeling back in his limbs, so that was a good thing. His stomach was also crying for food, which only helped him to take the decision.

“I think so,” he mumbled, eyeing his hand that was tied to the bed, “but you should let me go then.” He just needed a moment to thank the gods that Louis didn’t tie him with a purple, sparkling rope to the bed, but with a normal pair of cuffs. Which meant he wasn’t really tied, just stuck. (And he would never, ever admit it, but that also meant he had just lived through one of his kinks, although there was a lot less sex than he had imagined it.)

“Sure, but if you try to escape, I’ll cut off your balls,” Louis sang, a voice way too sweet and kind to say such cruel words. A giant key appeared out of nowhere and he opened the cuffs with it. Harry wanted to get up, but as soon as he put one of his giraffe legs on the floor, his head decided it didn’t quite like it, making him fall on the ground on his butt.

“Still dizzy?”

“Yeah, remind me again as of why you though drugging me again was a good idea?” Harry scoffed.

Louis didn’t answer, he didn’t even give Harry a shrug. The nerve the lad had. Ugh, terrible. He did put his arms under the pit’s of Harry’s to haul him up, to support him. Together they waggled out of the room, Harry making use of the situation to smell Louis’ hair. It smelled like the love-baby of a kiwi and unicorn. Not merman-y, but still It incredible. A+. Would recommend. He wanted to smell it all day and all night.

The smell of pancakes soon took his attention away from Louis’ hair, because at that moment, pancakes were a tad more important than Louis’ hair. Just a tad.

“Do I smell pancakes?”

“Yes,” Louis answered, shifting his arm underneath Harry a bit, “Zayn’s making them so they should be okay.”

“Zayn, your friend,” Harry said.

“Yes, Curly, you’ve clearly paid attention.”

When they finally arrived in the kitchen, Harry was met by a rather, uhm, explicit sight of a rather, tall, skinny, tan male preparing pancakes while wearing an apron. Wait, that didn’t really give the situation away. He was only wearing an apron.  It got even worse when the lad turned around and Harry could see the face of the ‘kiss the cook, he has cookies’-apron wearing lad.

“Wait, what?! Is your friend Zayn Malik, that R&B singer?!” Harry cried out, “Are you as a criminal living with the hottest and most famous superstars?!”

“Does he sing R&B?” Louis muttered at the same time as Zayn brought out, “I wouldn’t say most famous. I mean, Beyonce is definitely more famous than I. And, you know, more bootylicious, so maybe also hotter. Maybe. I do have better cheekbones.”

And, wow. If only Liam knew about this! Harry couldn’t wait to tell him. That is if he would ever see his friend again, because it didn’t look like Louis would let him leave anytime soon. But as long as he could eat pancakes everyday in the big, luxurious house, Harry didn’t mind that much.  

A.N.: Anything you would like to see happen in the near future?  You can ask for anthing you want, and I do mean anything. Alien abductions, zombie apocalypse, a pool of ice tea, flying piano's, I don't mind :) (I do have ideas of my own, but it would be funny to read and maybe use what you thing ^^)