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Louis hasn’t slept well in roughly six weeks, hasn’t slept at all in the last two days because housesitting is a hardcore fucking job, okay, and that is the only reason he remains seated when Harry stumbles into Gemma’s living room at two in the morning just as some poor guy on The Amazing Race is psyching himself to jump off a cliff for a clue.
"Aren’t you supposed to be on tour," Louis sort of asks, only he can’t actually make any inflections, he’s so tired.
"I am on tour, " Harry says easily, shrugging off his jacket. His hands are cold on Louis' face when he cups it. Louis shivers into the brief kiss. "I’m touring Gem’s new house, which I haven’t seen yet, because I’ve been playing stupid gigs half a continent away."
"I'm selling that quote to The Sun, just so you know," Louis comments, smirking. He feels slightly more awake. It’s probably due to seeing his husband in person instead of over Skype for the first time in— roughly six weeks. He’s so pathetic.
"And it’s our anniversary."
"I seem to remember our anniversary coincides with your concert in…" Louis snaps his fingers, trying to remember.
"No idea, somewhere in Brussels? I kinda canceled that one." Harry pushes Louis' legs up on the couch and climbs in beside him to snuggle. The couch is just big enough to fit two people without either of them being uncomfortable. They really should’ve hired Gemma to be their interior decorator for the LA house.
Louis' train of thought is interrupted when Harry continues. “It’s our tenth anniversary.”
"Fuck, I’m old," Louis sighs after a minute, earning an elbow to his side. "Say no to domestic violence, Harold," he says sternly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
Harry whines like a child he is and ew, no, Louis doesn't need that kind of imagery when his dick is getting mildly interested despite the perfectly good wank it had received three hours earlier.
"When do you need to get back?"
Harry sighs into his hair. “Like, tomorrow? Way in the evening.” He rotates his shoulders and Louis can hear the joints pop. Touring has never been kind to Harry’s back. “I wanted to take you to Tokyo, but it’s too long a flight, but a restaurant we can do, I think.”
"Yeah, okay," Louis says, turning his back more into Harry’s chest until they are properly spooning. He falls asleep listening to Harry ramble about his flight.
He wakes up disoriented, because there’s laughter and Actual Food smells coming from the kitchen, and his neck is killing him. Louis should probably stop catching naps on couches, even if he can’t really sleep in his own bed when Harry’s away. Maybe he should try the guest room.
He blinks and his brain finally registers that he’s in Gemma’s house and unless he had hallucinated last night, Harry is also in Gemma’s house. Louis stands up so fast he gets vertigo and has to keep still for a second.
"Good morning, love of my life," he says, walking in. "Hey, Haz."
Gemma snorts from where she’s perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. Harry flips him off and sets a plate on the table. Louis has been subsisting off store-bought sandwiches and Chinese take-out for six weeks, he could cry.
"I thought you were staying at Anne and Robin’s until Thursday?" He asks instead. "Is Jack back too?"
Gemma rolls her eyes. “I have been informed I can’t make you housesit on your Tenth Anniversary.” Louis can almost hear the capital letters in the last two words. “Jack’s still back at Mum’s, he and Robin bonded over house repairs. It might actually be better this way, now nobody’s stopping them from drilling holes in the roof however early they want. I asked Mum to come up so you won’t have to stay.”
Louis means to apologize, but he’s distracted by Harry trying to steal his bacon.
There aren’t really any traditions. Mostly they just do stupid shit on anniversaries, like trying to redecorate their house in LA after marathoning two seasons of Queer Eye in one night, or coming out on Jonathan Ross in the middle of a One Direction disbandment interview.
What Louis means is, they shouldn’t be allowed to make any decisions on their anniversary, because the date makes both him and Harry stupid and sentimental and prone to blowjobs in random bathrooms.
"Maybe we should try for a baby," Harry says over dinner at Rosso’s, because better to be safe and at least choose a familiar bathroom.
Louis chokes on a shrimp.
"We could start after I come back from tour!" Harry squeaks. "Not like, tomorrow. Are you alive? Lou?"
"No," Louis coughs out. "Make sure the headlines tomorrow mention I’m a music producer now. They always put that ‘former boybander’ line in."
"I could ask the waiter for some water," Harry says, still concerned. Louis reaches for his hand across the table and squeezes until the worry on Harry’s face dissipates. "Gemma said she would give us one of her, uh, like, eggs. If we want."
"No decisions on the anniversary," Louis says weakly, but it’s the same thing he had said before looking at Harry’s sad face and telling Jonathan Ross he might as well risk violent death at the hands of their publicist, so really, he’s fucked.
Harry is smiling at him, dimples and everything. Louis has been weak in the face of such blatant manipulation since he was a wee nineteen year old lad.
He thinks it over.
"Can I at least get a bathroom blowjob?"