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“Hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson, and I’ve accepted Marcus an— Harry, come on.”
Louis pinched the bridge of his nose when his husband came waltzing into the kitchen dressed in nothing but his pants and a pair of ridiculous patterned socks.
“I’m filmin’ that video thing, sunshine. The sandwich or whatever.”
“I know,” Harry sing-songed as he glided toward the mess of vegetables laid out in front of Louis.
“Y’can’t be in here, especially without clothes.”
He reached out to poke Harry’s bare stomach, but the man lifted him and plopped him on the countertop before he could. He nuzzled his face deep in the crook of Louis’ neck, feeling the vibrations of his laugh against his skin. Louis wasn’t sure what had gotten into Harry. He knew his husband was a fan of lifting him to sit on tables or countertops, maybe it was something to do with their height difference, but rarely did he ambush him like this. Considering Louis hardly ever cooked, there were very few opportunities to sneak up behind him, but this was far from the first time he’d done it.
“Nobody will see me if I’m your cameraman,” Harry reasoned, resurfacing and cupping the sides of his face. “Or you could put it off—” he murmured between needy kisses, “—and pay attention to me instead.”
Harry’s lips were very convincing, but Louis broke away once he found himself burying his fingers in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck.
“I already been puttin’ it off, darling. Was s’posed t’have it done yesterday.”
Harry huffed and tapped his hands impatiently on his husband’s thighs, but a quick tug on the handful of his hair melted any fight he had left, turning him to putty in Louis’ hands.
“Later, gorgeous.”
Seeing his raised eyebrows and with the promise of after I’ve finished, Harry was placated. He stole one last kiss and placed his hands on Louis’ waist when he hopped down.
“Could I still work the camera?”
“Only if y’get some trousers. You’re gonna distract me with that thing hangin’ ‘round,” he said in reference to the bulge straining against Harry’s boxer shorts. Harry wiggled his hips before strutting away, fully aware of how good his arse looked when he walked so theatrically.
“That's obscene!” Louis called after him, getting an echoing laugh in return.
By the time a mostly-clothed Harry got back, the sandwich-making journey had already begun. He watched from the doorway for a bit, going unnoticed as he took in every single detail of Louis. The way his fringe swooped perfectly over his forehead, how he nodded along with the video he watched—even slipping his hands in his pockets was enough to make Harry look on fondly.
“Alright, cool.”
“Could you at least try to sound excited?”
Louis jumped, unaware that he had company, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic reaction.
“Why would I be excited? Y’know I can’t fuckin’ cook, s’gonna be a nightmare.”
Harry stopped the recording and went around the counter to stand behind Louis. He slid a hand under the black jumper to rest on his stomach and bent down to hook his chin over his shoulder.
“I think you’ll be a wonderful chef.” Harry’s lips moved against the stubble on Louis’ cheek. “You’re perfect.”
Louis grumbled a bit but turned his head to give Harry the kiss he was so obviously begging for.
“What is with you today, hm?”
“Dunno. You just look—” he mouthed at the soft skin of Louis’ throat, “—you look incredible today.”
Even though a massive shiver went down his spine, Louis knew he had to finish this damn fish butty before he got distracted.
“If you give me a love bite right now they’ll ship your arse straight back to L.A.—” Louis reminded him, “—and it’s only a matter of time ’til they make this permanent.”
He looked down and made a face at the E on his left hand. At least they started to use temporary tattoos rather than stencilling the letter on like they did at first, but it still made his stomach twist. Despite the convenience, there were times like today when he would much prefer to study photos of his hands and very carefully draw the lines—he didn’t particularly want to look at evidence of their forced lies while he was with Harry. It was obvious that the feeling was mutual when Harry jumped off straight away, putting some distance between them.
“Why can’t you jus’ make it for me?” Louis whined, already overwhelmed just by looking at everything in front of him.
“I already got you the utensils, Lou, that’s more than enough.”
“As if I know how to fuckin’ use ‘em. Look at this thing!” Louis held up a peeler, glaring at it as if it were his mortal enemy. “Fuck am I s’posed to do with this?”
“Watch the damn video and you’ll find out,” Harry smirked at his husband’s exasperation. “And stop getting distracted.”
“You’re the one distractin' me!”
“How’d you do it?” Louis whispered as he held out a partially peeled cucumber.
“Not telling you,” Harry whispered back, thoroughly amused by Louis’ confusion.
He’d taken pity on his husband and peeled two long stripes so he wouldn’t look like a total helpless dickhead, please, H, but that was all he could be persuaded to do. Louis tried his best but ultimately gave up, putting the few small pieces to the side and moving on before he got too frustrated.
“Tomato, yeah. Alright.”
Louis held the tomato up and studied it for a moment. He spun it around and looked up at Harry with his most pitiable expression. When he opened his mouth, Harry interrupted immediately.
“I’m not helping you cut a damn tomato.” Louis pouted at him. “You’ve watched me cook a million times, how do you not know what to do?”
“Don’t be rude.” Louis dropped the tomato and crossed his arms when Harry didn’t budge. “I won’t share me sandwich with people who mock me.”
“Who says I want your sandwich?” Harry teased him, but he immediately felt bad when Louis sighed and shifted his gaze to the knife in front of him.
“Aw, don’t be like that, angel, c’mon.” He rounded the counter and grabbed one of Louis’ hands, playing with his fingers. “It was only a joke — ‘course I wanna try.”
Louis only perked up again when Harry lifted his hand to kiss it gently.
“Alright, fine. I’ll figure it out meself, but… I don’t want you watchin’ me.”
He was dead serious, so Harry left the room to find Clifford instead. Their massive dog would undoubtedly be ready for lunch as well, and a few biscuits always satisfied his hunger. When Harry returned, he eyed Louis’ messy, uneven tomato discs and hid a smile behind his hand.
“What’s, erm—” he tried to keep himself from giggling and leaned his hip against the counter, “—what’s next, my love?”
“Coleslaw.”
There didn’t seem to be any coleslaw—the little cucumber ribbons sat discarded off to the side.
“And that is… where?”
“Yeah, I didn’t wanna do it, so I took some creative liberties.”
Scanning the counter, Harry noticed some new additions to the supply stash.
“As in, you’re putting ketchup and mayo on your sandwich.” Louis nodded. “To replace coleslaw?” He nodded again, and Harry rolled his eyes.
Harry tried to fluff his hair and got batted away. Since Louis was so pleased with his long hair—as was Harry—he was a bit more sensitive about it getting ruffled around. If it was just the two of them, he’d lie in Harry’s lap for hours and get it plaited—loving the feeling of warm fingers slowly combing them out and restarting over and over—but he wanted to be sure that it looked absolutely perfect when he was on camera.
Though he was mostly supportive and encouraging, Harry did have a bit of fun while he watched. Much to Louis’ dismay, his husband continued to rib him about anything and everything he could, like when he smashed down the sandwich and Harry didn’t know you were CPR trained, look at those hands, to which Louis threw a deformed tomato slice at him.
“Matter of fact, I am, actually. I try t'be a good, responsible member of society and this is what I get? Now shut it, sun, I gotta resuscitate this bread.”
“It’s actually pretty bangin’. S’actually quite nice.” Louis’ proud smile as he tasted his creation made Harry’s heart soar. Every time he was lucky enough to see that little grin grace Louis' features, Harry fell impossibly deeper in love.
“Let me have a taste then.”
Harry took a bite of Louis’ half—a random bite mark appearing on the other would have looked a bit suspicious for the video. It worried Louis when his husband's face stayed unreadable as he chewed.
“Good?” He bit the inside of his cheek hoping he wasn’t about to get thrown out of their kitchen for life.
“It tastes like you made it.”
“What’s that s'posed to mean?” Louis was affronted, but Harry scratched his back and smiled.
“I love it — no, I do!” Harry kissed a spot of the ketchup-mayo sauce off the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Maybe don’t put your whole body weight on it next time. Ketchup's gone rogue.”
“Yeah, it is a bit sloppy, innit.”
Louis felt like a zoo animal as Harry observed him enjoying his lunch, but he couldn’t complain about the attention he was getting. He relished in the way Harry’s hungry eyes flickered up and down across him while he finished his half of the butty. Ignoring the blushing cheeks and little frustrated sounds coming from beside him, Louis took his sweet time.
“Eat faster,” Harry demanded. “I’ve been so patient.”
“Have you, though?” Louis finished the last bite and one of Harry’s hands slinked around his hips, yanking him forward. “Christ, H. What’s gotten into you lately?”
Long fingers twirled sections of Louis’ hair, and a handful of his jumper was taken up and pulled tight.
“Is it me hair?” Harry’s eyes flashed hungrily. “I can’t believe you. Why didn’t y’tell me earlier?”
“Love lookin’ at you. Every day,” Harry breathed. “It hasn’t been this long since… it’s been a while. You just look—”
Harry didn’t have to finish. Louis leaned in to kiss him but changed course at the last second to whisper into his ear. Blushing deep red down to his chest, Harry grabbed Louis’ hand, pulling him as fast as he could out of the kitchen.
The crusts of the sandwich lay forgotten on the counter, and Louis’ still-recording phone picked up on distant laughter as they made their way upstairs.