Don't ~ Larry Stylinson

One

i.

The first time Louis meets Harry Styles is when the—very obviously drunk—lad bumps into him at the 2018 BRIT Awards after party. Now granted, he's known of the man is for years—has seen his picture in plenty of newspapers (because Louis' old fashioned) and magazines—but that doesn't stop him from being just a little bit startled by how, er, well- how pretty much drop dead gorgeous the man actually is.

And like, yeah, he's harboring a thin layer of sweat on his brow bone that Louis is pretty sure has accumulated from just being in a room full of hundreds of people dancing and drinking and yelling, and his long brown curls aren't as soft as the papers make them look (although Louis thinks that can probably also be blamed on the temperature of the room), and they're matted to his head like he just finished a run, but the whole picture actually ranges kind of close to endearing—the way he's swaying from the one too many drinks he's had only adding on to that conclusion—and Louis already knows he's so fucked as the boy balances himself on the table next to them, giving Louis an award-winning smile that's only slightly lopsided due to the alcohol. Yep, definitely fucked.

"Hiiii," the man (or really, the boy, with those dimples) drawls in a low, deep voice that Louis could only dream to imagine was real. He's grinning at Louis, fluttering his eyelashes innocently like he has no idea the effect he has on the smaller man right now, and Louis can't help but sigh dreamily.

He pulls himself together, replacing his soft smile for a smirk and reaching out to balance the man-boy who had decided he can balance on his own (he can't). "Hi darling, little tipsy, are we?"

The boy flushes a little at the term of endearment, and he only grins harder. "Yeahhhhh."

Louis chuckles, crinkle-eyed smile and all, and looks around lazily before focusing back on the boy, "Shouldn't someone be watching you love? Don't think you should be drinking on your own."

The boy furrows his eyebrows adorably. "'M fine. I can drink on my own, I'm big," he claims, and... and he's pouting. Like. Full blown, lower-lip-budged-out-and-a-crease-between-his-eyebrows pouting, as if Louis claiming that he might not be able to handle his alcohol is offensive, and what even is this boy? Honestly.

Louis smiles softly, agreeing. "I'm sure babe."

Harry beams at him again, and the missed opportunity to tease him again was definitely worth it. "You're prettyyy," he drawls, and it's only half-slurred this time. Progress really.

Louis gives him an amused smile. "Yeah?"

The boy nods seriously. "Yeah. Pretty Louis."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "You know my name?"

(And like, Louis knows Harry's name, of course the boy knows Louis', but the way his cheeks flush so quickly and he goes all shy does wonders for Louis.)

"Er, um, I- you well, uh, yeah-?"

"You asking me?"

Harry shakes his head adamantly, curls flying wildly in a halo around his head and trying to stutter out an explanation, and Louis loves the way he squirms, wouldn't mind watching it in a different setting really, and- Oh. Well.

He reaches out and puts a settling hand on the boy's vibrant blazer, gripping him gently to get his attention and laughing softly. "I'm kidding babe. No need to get worked up love."

Harry stops fishing for words and just stills, a gorgeous pink shade still coloring his cheeks. "Oh."

The boy keeps staring at him, looks completely enamored by all that is Louis, and unashamedly gives him a once over or two, lips parted in what could be awe or arousal and yeah, Louis needs to end this before he takes it too far. He smiles softly at the man, taking his hand back from where it was still holding Harry, and he looks around once to calm himself before meeting Harry's eyes again. "Gotta go now. Places to be, people to see, allat. Lovely to meet you Harry," he adds.