you are half of me (and I am all for you) - larry stylinson

seven

"Fuck, that feels so good."

"Yeah? You like that?"

"Mm, yes ..."

Louis dug his fingers in even deeper, targeting the knots in Harry's muscles. He could feel the tension dissipate as he worked out each knot, pressing and rubbing.

"Right there- Fuck." Harry's groan was muffled by his skin. He was lying on his stomach with his head pillowed on his folded arms. "Oh god, again, right there, again. Lou, please."

"Calm down," he laughed, doing as Harry asked.

After almost two weeks of sleeping in the van, Patricia's stiff, unforgiving floor had taken its toll on his back. This morning, he woke up so stiff and sore that he struggled to even sit upright. Louis was in the process of treating him to a massage. His shirt was rucked up to his shoulders as Louis rubbed Icy Hot on his broad back.

All the bare skin on display was a bit distracting, but Louis busied himself with giving Harry the best back massage of his life. Ignoring the obscene moans caused greater difficulty, but he managed.

"You two better be decent in here, or I swear to god-" Niall said from the hallway, before pushing the door open. His eyes landed on Louis and Harry on the floor of the dressing room. He stared for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't even want to know."

"Why would we not be decent?" Harry asked, exhaling when Louis' palms dug into a particularly sore spot.

"I could hear you moaning and groaning all the way down the hall."

Harry didn't even have the modesty to be act embarrassed. Louis added more pressure, and the warble of the vinyl record on the turntable continued on around them. They were both a bit sweaty and exhausted from their performance, but exhilarated too. There was no thrill like the post-show elation that left Louis feeling on top of the world.

"Alright, that's all you're getting tonight." Louis patted Harry's muscles for emphasis, trying not to admire the way the lines of his back changed from broad shoulders to his smaller waist.

"Mm, we should do that again soon. Your turn?"

Louis waved him off. "I'm good." He wasn't sure if his mindset was stable enough to handle Harry's ginormous lion paws rubbing lotion all over him.

Packing up all of their equipment was a hassle and a task Louis would rather do without. It was the price they had to pay for touring on their own, with no roadies to help out. Two weeks into tour, their belongings were mostly disorganized and jammed into boxes, giving him a headache. It was easier with four people, but still rough having to carry everything out to Patricia, only to struggle for another half an hour trying to arrange the boxes so they had enough room for their sleeping bags.

Louis made sure Harry didn't lift any of the heavier boxes today, because he didn't want him to mess up his back even more. He assured him he was fine, but Louis wasn't convinced.

There were a dozen fans waiting for them out the back door of the bar where they performed. Their persistence was impressive—at least an hour had passed since 1D's set ended, and they were still waiting in the dingy back parking lot, illuminated by one measly, flickering streetlight.

Louis greeted them with smiles and hugs as soon as he arranged the last box in Patricia. The boys were all good with their fans, making the time to take pictures and write out messages on slips of paper or the smooth material of concert tickets.

It had been a little weird at first, Louis had to admit, right in the beginning of the band when no one had ever heard of them before, and there were still people waiting to talk to them after their set. Since then, they'd become more comfortable with the idea of random strangers knowing details about their lives. Over the years, they'd faced their fair share of groupies, stalkers, and genuine fans. If nothing else, it was flattering.