Just a small drabble :)
Summary: in which Harry has outgrown having to see Louis walk around another day with facial hair. He takes matters into his own hands and decides to shave it himself.
Call him pretentious, but there was absolutely nothing Harry dreaded more than seeing his boyfriend walk around with that lawn of hair upon his face. Sure, it was attractive. Sure, the feeling of it rubbing against Harry's smooth, baby face was quite the sensation, but that was were he drew the line. "Be still, Lou. Almost done," Harry mumbled, dabbling the razor in the cup of water before proceeding with his unfinished task. Louis continued to pout and grumble under his breath, arms folded across his chest as he sat atop the wooden stool. He didn't have the patience for it, actually enjoying the many aspects of being a man; however, Harry knew there was more to it; knew that Louis was trying to compensate for his lack of masculine features and mannerisms. He wasn't being true to himself and that's all Harry wanted, some of the old Louis. They were growing up too fast, years going by like the speed of lightning; and it was only a reminder of change. Too much change. He liked the beanies, the glasses, the "lesbian haircut," and the many little things that once made up Louis. Maybe they couldn't be exactly who they were before, but, internally, that part of them always lingered. Harry's face scrunched up, concentration written across his face, razor in one hand, a banana in the other. He looked as ridiculous as the whole idea had seemed, Louis thought; but there was a sense of understanding and adoration though; something that kept Louis at peace, watching his love of four years take care of him; how Harry simply knew what was best for him without Louis even having to murmur a word. Harry placed the razor in the cup, the remnants of shaving cream and hair stubble floating atop the contaminated water. Harry leaned back, though nothing more than an inch, Louis's hands on his knees, keeping them balanced and close. Examining his handy work, a complacent smile appeared on Harry's lips, large fingers gently caressing the sensitive areas of where a beard once lied. "Beautiful," Harry mumbled, placing a chaste kiss on Louis's smooth chin, and then another upon his lips.
"Love you, Harry," - spoken like a promise.
