Larry Stylinson One Shots

Every Day

Summary: More of Harry and Louis' daily routine fluff

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Climbing the steps to the front door, Louis finds himself smiling at the anticipation of what's to come. It happens every day, and he wouldn't change it for the world. This little routine gets Louis through his workdays.

As he reaches the top step, the front door swings open. Harry's standing in the doorframe, a large smile adorning his face, arms wide for a hug.

"Welcome home, Lou." Harry murmurs, stepping forward and engulfing his husband in a warm hug. Kissing his cheek softly, Harry buries his face in Louis' neck, squeezing him close.

"Thank you, love. I missed you." Louis whispers back, hands wrapping around Harry's thin waist.

"Was your day okay?"

"Same as usual." Rubbing one hand up and down Harry's back, Louis pulls back, his free hand holding his cheek gently. "This is still the best part."

Harry blushes, as Louis knew he would because he always does, and gladly bends down to meet Louis' lips halfway.

After a few moments, Harry breaks the kiss and pulls Louis inside, locking the door.

Louis steps through the front door of their house and is immediately struck with the most delicious smell imaginable. Cheering inwardly, he kicks off his shoes and rushes into the kitchen to see what Harry's making.

Harry follows, finding Louis licking his lips, peering into the pot on the stove.

Looking back happily, Louis takes a moment to appreciate the domestic beauty of Harry, who is clad in one of Louis' oversized tee shirts and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.

"Like what you see?" Harry jokes, and Louis agrees hastily, unsure whether he means what he sees in the pot, or what Harry's wearing. They're both excellent sights, though.

Every day. It's like this every day, and every day Louis feels the need to pinch himself to snap out of the daydream he must be living in, because he did absolutely nothing to deserve Harry and everything that comes with him. Not one time has Louis come home and taken everything Harry does for him for granted.

"Thank you, H. For dinner, and greeting me at the door, and agreeing to marry me all those years ago. I appreciate all of it more than you could possibly understand."

"It's nothing special." Harry nudges past Louis, who hugs him from behind while Harry stirs the pot. "Just macaroni and cheese."

"It's everything. Not 'just' anything. Have I told you that I love you?"

"A few times. You can tell me again, though."

"I love you, Harry Tomlinson."

Harry does a little dance as he slices a block of cheese. "Yay." His smile is infectious, as always, and Louis can't resist staring for a few moments. He's his soulmate, though. It's okay. If anything, Harry likes the attention, bowing his head and turning his blushing face away.

Louis chuckles, nuzzling his face into Harry's broad back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and squeezing tightly. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Harry asks innocently.

"Well," Louis takes the knife from Harry's hand, setting it down and turning Harry to face him. "Don't you have anything you want to say to me?"

"Hm," Harry pretends to be deep in thought, tapping his chin slowly, eyes roaming the ceiling. "We got a coupon for that ice cream place in the mail, thought we could-"