Pretty Boy || larry

seven

{all credit goes to the original author}

seven

It becomes a bit of a habit in a castle, to find Harry and Louis tucked away somewhere doing things that they probably ought not to. Sometimes it's blowjobs in a pantry. Other times, it's dropping wads of paper on passing tourists when they walk beneath balconies. Unfailingly, it's with sparkling eyes and unabashed smiles that Liam, along with damage control experts Zayn and Niall, grow to expect.

"Why does it always come back to sex with us?" Louis asks one night as Harry's nestled between Louis and his bed. “Even when we say no touching, there's always touching.”

“I'm a prostitute,” Harry says simply, because after several months of them seeing each other at least once a week, Louis has learned to stop blushing at the word. “Sex is what I do. It's probably my fault.”

“No, I don't think that's it,” Louis shakes his head. “You've got to be bored of sex. If it was just that, you'd stop asking for it.”

“Maybe I like sex with you.”

Louis smiles. “Closer. If it were just that, you'd stop asking for anything else.”

“Maybe I like the way I feel when I'm around you, and I like having sex with you, and I like when you shut up and stop asking really dumb questions.”

Harry giggles as Louis leans in to nibble on his neck. “That makes sense,” Louis approves with a smile. “We'll go with that.”

It's a constant struggle, trying to get Harry to accept any kind of kindness. He almost categorically refuses food- unless Louis is eating too, in which case he allows Louis to share. They’ve reached an impasse when Harry refuses to accept money unless he's earned it with sex and Louis refuses to have sex unless it involves no money at all. Finally Louis’ forced to make up a new position on palace staff, ‘vehicle maintenance operator,’ and offers the job to Harry so that he can pay him for a few hours a week of work waxing the cars and buffing tires until they shine. Harry probably realizes that the salary he’s paid for that kind of menial labor is ridiculous and that the company phone he's provided isn't strictly necessary, but he's rather powerless to refuse the opportunity to take care of all of the beautiful cars.

He still refuses to let Louis see where he lives. It's a solemn reminder that while Harry now has enough money to feed himself enough to make his bones disappear a little more beneath his skin, and while he now wears a smile for most of his day, there is still a separate world that Harry can't manage to leave. There are some things that money can't fix, that Louis can't fix, and they're the same things that Harry can't leave.

They don't talk about his mum a lot. Louis tries to, once, an early morning whispered conversation where Louis tries against all odds to make Harry see that sometimes, doing what's best for you isn't selfishness, it's just self preservation. Harry storms out after that. It’s a week and a half before he comes back, and Louis mostly keeps his pleading to wistful sighs and the strangely fond sort of thoughts that he thinks when it's the middle of the day and Harry is dozing in his bed with curls all askew and a sleepy, dopey smile on his face.

He tries not to let it get to him, knowing where Harry’s going every night. It isn’t his place to judge, he knows that. He knows that Harry doesn’t think there’s any other option, and that he’s made peace with his lot even if Louis hasn’t. It’s hard, but Louis just takes care of him how he’s allowed to and lets go of all the rest. Harry’s a grown man who can make his own choices, and as long as he stays safe, Louis can make himself respect that.