Work Text:
Sunlight filters into the room and casts its warm rays on Louis' skin. Slowly, he stretches trying to rid his body of the sleepy feeling in his bones. When he opens his eyes, he's met with the sight of curly hair and naked skin.
He smiles to himself and takes a moment to admire the broad shoulders and the stretch of tattoos on the arm of the man laying in his sheets before he carefully removes himself from the warmth of the bed. He gets dressed as quiet as he can, trying not to disturb Harry's sleep.
As he tugs his shirt over his head he accidentally loses his footing and bumps into the bed. Once the shirt is on, he peeks over at Harry and is met with sleepy green eyes smiling over at him. "Shit I'm sorry. I tried to be careful," he apologizes.
Harry sits up a bit and stretches his long arms out. "I woke up the minute you started out of bed," he admits and runs a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head. "Do you want to go get breakfast with me?" He asks, his voice is hopeful that Louis will finally break and say yes.
Louis frowns and shakes his head. "I can't. I have plans already. I'll call you later, yeah?" he lies.
Harry bites at the skin on his lip and looks down at the sheet piled in his lap, "Yeah sure."
"C'mon, H," Louis pleads quietly, "You know this isn’t ever going to be more than this."
They've been over it so many times. Louis doesn't do relationships, he doesn't let himself get that close, and he's told Harry so so many times that they're just friends. It never stops Harry from asking, and it never stops Louis from feeling like shit every time he says no.
Harry falls quiet for a moment like he's debating whether or not to say something. Finally, he asks Louis, "When are you going to realize we're already in love?"
And that, well that takes Louis by surprise. "Since when does shagging your best friend occasionally, mean we're in love?" he scoffs, a familiar defensive feeling taking over like he needs to protect himself.
Harry moves and drapes his legs off the side of the bed so he's sitting up properly, and he's far too casual in this whole conversation for Louis' comfort. "Lou, we've known each other for two years. We've been sleeping together, frequently, since three months after we met. We go on dates frequently, even if we don't call them dates. I'm in love with you, and I think you’re in love with me too.”
Louis swallows against the thick feeling in his throat and he takes a slow breath as he tries to process that. "We haven't gone on dates," he tries to argue weakly.
Harry gives him a look, his head tilted slightly to the left and his eyebrows raised. "We go on dates. I took you to the carnival last week. You took me to see that horror movie and let me cuddle you when I got scared. We go to dinner, we visit each other's families, we have a Wednesday night routine of pizza and beer and it always ends up with sex."
"But I don't do relationships. I’ve told you that," Louis says carefully, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't want to fall in love," the words come out of his mouth but they taste different than they use to. It feels wrong because as he thinks about the past two years and everything he's shared with Harry, which is more than he's ever shared with anyone ever, he knows that somewhere along the line they became more even if it was never spoken.
Harry stays quiet like he knows Louis needs to think the past few moments through. Louis finds himself grateful for that, and wonders when Harry learned everything about him without him knowing. He was perfectly happy being alone, he was content to live his life solo, to keep things simple and to avoid getting hurt.
But he knows in his chest that Harry is right. He knows that he'd be a fool to let what they have go just because he's afraid of more. So instead of rushing out the door to non-existent plans, he carefully moves to sit on the edge of the bed beside Harry.
"Be patient with me," he pleads.
Harry reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently. "Always," he answers.