Larry Stylinson One Shots

you must've heard it from my best friend (date # 1)

“Come on, Harry. You’re being slow on purpose,” Perry whines from where she’s stood half in, half out of Harry’s closet. She holding a dark blue pair of slacks, a pair of black skinny jeans, and dark blue skinny jeans. A small frown is evident on her pretty face, contrary to what her eyes shine: happiness.

Harry, from where he was laying back on his bed, still in his sweats and jumper from his evening run, rubs his eyes with a sigh. He doesn’t want to get up, legs sore, lungs tired, but he has to. Perry will be so pissed if he decides to skip out on his, yet another, date.

“I know I am,” he replies. His voice has always been slow like this, low pitched. He kind of hates it; Perry says it’s almost as attractive as when Zayn giggles. Almost.

“Well get your arse up then. You aren’t skipping again. Not for the third time this month,” she emphasizes. Harry rolles his eyes because, well. He has very good reasons for why he’s rain checked on the beautiful boy he’s become friends with for the past three or so months. When he sees Perry looming over him, now looking quite a bit more irritated, Harry sits up and tries to smile a big smile for her.

It isn’t long before she smiles too and sits down next to Harry. Some of her curly, pink hair hits him in the face; it happens so often he’s used to it. And her hair is soft and smells like apples, so he actually kind of likes it sometimes.

“I don’t have to be there until 8:30 anyways,” he tries to reason with her, after a moment of silence. “It’s only 7:40. I have plenty of time to get ready.”

“7:44,” Perry correctes him, eyeing the alarm clock on his bedside table. Again, Harry rolles his eyes. She’s always so technical, with everything. Sometimes it’s annoying. Sometimes it’s cute. “And you still have to dry your hair and put it up and-”

“Perry,” he interrupts. His hand comes up to rest on her shoulder, thumb soothing over it.

He feels a bit bad for her. Not only does she have to help Harry with getting ready for his date (she doesn’t have to help at all. Harry is perfectly capable, but she insisted, and he hates upsetting her), but Zayn has been gone since five in the morning the day before, and won’t be back until later the next day. His Mum is a bit under the weather, and his Dad is off on the business trip in Japan, Harry thinks is where Zayn said, so Zayn ended up going home.

So Perry’s been missing him. Harry loves her dearly, though, for taking time away from talking to Zayn on the phone or texting him, so she can make sure he doesn’t look like a complete fool.

“We’ll be fine.” Harry sees the slight panic slowly washing out of her eyes, being replaced with something he understands completely; she misses him, a lot. “He’ll be back before you know it, ‘kay? Now why don’t we go get me all nice and pretty, yeah?”

He doesn’t want to go out, wants to stay in and eat ice-cream with Perry and prank call Zayn. But he knows going on this date will make her happy, and letting her help will make her even more happy.

And Harry loves pleasing people.

“Dark blue ones,” Harry picks, pointing to the dark blue jeans that is still entangled with the other two pairs sitting in her arms.

“Yeah? And what shirt?” Harry groans, after she drops the jeans in his lap. She hops up, and runs back to his closet. He cringes when she drops the other two trousers in a heap on the floor, knowing they’ll be all crinkly and he will have to be ironed. Again.

The look of excitement Perry sports makes all those worries fly out the window, so Harry gets up to look for a shirt with her. “Ah, no,” she says before he’s even half way to his closet door, stood in the middle of his small room. “Get your kit off, start getting dressed. I still have to figure out what to do with your monstrous hair.”