Cheeky ➻ Louis Partridge

26 | (tech)nically!

Y/N

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"DARN DIDDLY DARN DARN DANG DAGNABBIT!" I yelled, storming down the hallway in anxiety.

Contrary to this morning's serene events, I was now in a sea of chaos and pandemonium. About 7.8 seconds ago, I was just informed that there was tech malfunction, and one of the lights is blinking.

It's the main spotlight. The freaking main spotlight decided to break, and now I have to get it fixed before the show starts. Which is in approximately 12 minutes.

"I can replace the bulb," I rambled into my coms, spinning past a prop-handler, "but it could also be a problem with the wires."

Freddie was on the other end of my mic, trying to multitask a costume malfunction at the same time. Of all the things to go wrong, a lot of them did.

"Check both," he said back, "and switch the bulb anyways."

"What if we don't have an extra bulb?"

"Then we are in deep sh–"

His voice was cut off by the sound of a hanger basket tumbling onto the floor, followed by shrieks of boys in the dressing room.

"Let's just hope there is one," I continued, swinging open the stage door.

Freddie let out an exasperated sigh, "ASAP, [y/n], get there as soon as possible."

Switching the line off, I stalked down the marble hallway in panic. I had a job to do, and not much time to do it. I didn't even know if I had the resources to do it. If there wasn't an extra bulb, I just had to hope the problem was with the wires.

As I bolted past the dressing rooms, I felt someone grab my wrist and spin me backwards, crashing into their chest. I was about to let out a yelp in surprise, but then I felt the familiar fluffiness of Louis' hair as he nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck.

"Hey," he giggled, rocking me back and forth with him, "where are you going so fast?"

Normally I would have loved this (and I still did), but I had a major problem waiting for me to fix, and I was filled with nerves.

"Louis, darling, I have to go," I laughed nervously, turning to continue walking, "you look adorable in that costume, by the way."

He was wearing his Romeo piece, the frayed white shirt that wasn't full buttoned, the black pants, and the fake plastic sword hanging by his side. Hah, hah, hah...he could kill someone with that. (That was a pun, Romeo does kill some with it).

I'm getting off track.

"Wait, hang on," Louis pouted, sticking out his bottom lip, "why do you have to go?"

I sighed in disappointment, "I need to fix the lights."

"Can't you stay for just a second?"

"I don't have a second, Louis."

"Then give me a millisecond," he grinned, pulling me back gently, "please?"

The responsible thing to do would be to pat him on the head, go back to work, and solve the problem before the opening night show happened.

But I am not responsible, never have been responsible, and the puppy-dog eyes my boyfriend was giving me was definitely a temptation I could not resist.

"Fine, but only a millisecond," I laughed, walking back towards him, "there's ten minutes till curtain."

He winked, "wait here."

As he disappeared into his dressing room, I debated whether responsibility was something I should probably have taken into account. I didn't know what Louis was doing, and I didn't know how long it took.

If I didn't get that spotlight fixed, I would probably be thrown off the balcony by an angry Freddie.

Fortunately, not much longer, Louis reappeared with a small wooden box balanced in his right hand. Handing it to me with a beaming smile on his face, I took it from his grip and tilted my head to observe it.

It was a mahogany case, with a thin engraving on the top that spelled a single word: Spillings.

"What's Spillings?" I mumbled, running my hand along the curves.

"It's the name of the box," Louis said excitedly, bouncing up and down softly, "open it and you'll find out why."

Doing as he said, I pushed open the box in curiosity. I didn't have a clue of what it could be, or why I was getting a gift in the first place, but then I saw what was inside.

It was a tea set.

"I had it custom made for you," he announced, picking up a pink tea bag and hanging it in front of my face, "this one is called Blackfriars."

I couldn't help but smile widely, "why?"

"Because it's the name of the station I first met you at."

I felt like I was about to faint. There was no way this was an actual gift. How did he think of this? Why did he think of this? When did he think of this? Was I dreaming?

I had so many questions, but I was too focused on the brightly colored tea bag assortment to ask. My eyes lit up as I pointed at the teal colored one labeled 'jester'.

"This one's for you, isn't it?" I questioned, remembering that day at Buckingham Palace.

"Yep!" Louis exclaimed,  holding up the yellow one, "and your's is majesty, of course."

I glanced at all the tea labels, my face blushing. There were exactly six different flavors, all custom picked and named: Blackfriar, Jester, Majesty, Romeo, Darling, and Cheeky.

I hadn't noticed that one yet.

"What does Cheeky stand for?" I remarked, holding up the purple color.

Louis smirked, as if he had been waiting this whole time for me to ask.

"If I remember correctly," he said, leaning towards me, his breath tickling my nose, "that's what you used to call me when we first met."

I giggled, "that's only because you're ridiculously flirtatious."

"Only with you," he said, pushing me off towards the hallway, "now go fix that light."

Clasping the tea box in my hands, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and began to run towards the stage door.

Funny how this all started with a cup of tea.

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