mafkaast
Summary:
Louis needs to work out but he genuinely loathes working out. Harry comes up with a great alternative to work on his physique.
Work Text:
"Sod off Liam! I don't want to work out with you and Mark!" Louis practically shouts as he searches for clothes to put on in the mess that is called his hotel room.
"But they-,"
"Yeah yeah," Louis cuts him off, already feeling annoyed by this conversation. "I know and honestly I don't give a fuck." Liam is persuading him to go train with him, but Liam should know by now that when Louis doesn't want to do something, he won't do it. It's as simple as that.
"Alright," Liam says in an indifferent tone, shrugging before walking away.
Louis feels somewhat victorious after this easy win: Liam didn't even really try to convince him. And that was a very, very wise decision of him. He wouldn't win anyway. Not in a million years would he agree to work out with Liam and Mark. 1-0 for Louis.
Except, the problem is that his team keeps bugging him about it. They advise, no demand even, for Louis to train and get more into shape. And why? Just so that teenage girls can drool over shirtless pictures of Louis. It's bloody ridiculous that's what it is.
Besides, his fans like Louis the way he is: with or without a little tummy or thicker thighs. Louis has even seen twitter accounts purely dedicated to his tummy or thighs. He has to admit that it is kind of adorable: in an extremely, extremely creepy way.
The most infuriating thing about all of this is that Louis has notices that he's been putting on some pounds and he has been thinking about going to work out himself. But he's just not going to satisfy his management team, not now. He wants to piss them off as much as he can and if that means getting a little chubbier: he has to deal with it.
Grabbing his denim jeggings (yes jeggings; have a fucking problem with that?) and a simple shirt he starts to dress himself.
The shirt is easy: lately he practically always wears a loose fitted t-shirt; his jeggings on the contrary are a whole different story. With small grunts and hisses he tries to put the jeggings over his muscular calves up to his thick thighs, when all of a sudden he hears a familiar chuckle.
"What Harry?" he asks annoyed, jeans (or jeggings, whatever) halfway on his legs.
"It's just funny seeing you trying to fit into those leggings."
"Jeggings," he corrects and in a bitter tone he adds: "you are not the one who should judge me on this! I've seen you tuck your bloody penis to fit into fucking outrageous tight jeans for fuck's sake!"
Harry frowns. "Yeah alright."
2-0 for Louis. As always. He won't tell or show that he honestly hates how those jeggings barely fit, when not even two months ago he could put them on in one swift motion. Dammit.
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"I'm getting chubby again," Louis groans with a pout as he stares at himself in the mirror. He tried to ignore the little voice that noticed how his clothes didn't fit like they used to, how every time he held his tummy while singing he felt a small bump, where previously it was practically flat. All because he didn't want to satisfy his fucking team; didn't want to do yet another goddamn thing they inquired him to do. But now he can't deny it anymore; he's getting fat.
"No you're not," Harry responds almost instantaneously. "You look healthy again."
At times like these he hates that they share a dressing room together. Harry is always sweet, always nice but he should just be honest for once!
