Burn [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter Six

author's note: I'll be making a playlist for this fic sometime after a few more chapters, so be expecting it. If you have anything to tell me, tell me! Don't be shy. Fan, Vote, Comment, whatever! Just enjoy the chapter.

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"Fuck you Payne! You're not going to win this time."

"Shut the hell up Niall. Hey! Quit hitting me you little cheat!"

"Niall, play fair."

"Be quiet Malik. Go back to reading your palm or something."

"I will. Right after I read the imprint of my foot on your ass."

"Boys, settle down."

"Alright mum. Ow! Louis you twat! You made me lose!"

"We all know you would've lost anyway, you sod. Oh, and call me mum one more time, and you won't be having any pancakes."

"No!"

"Then I suggest you pipe down and prepare to get your arse whipped again by Fifa King, Liam Payne."

Niall grunted and turned his attention back to the TV screen, rubbing the throbbing spot on the back of his head where Louis threw his whisk. Liam snickered, muttering something intangible. Zayn watched the spectacle from his spot on the couch, buried in a oversized striped jumper. He had his knees to his chest, and was scrolling through his phone, peering at the glowing screen over the top of his spectacles. His hair was distressed, and he had bags under his eyes, contrasting grimly to his long, dark eyelashes.

'Probably spends all night reading those books of his,' Louis thought, before heading into the kitchen. Harry was hunched in front of the refridgerator, grabbing a carton of eggs and milk. He added the items to the ingredients set out on the granite countertop, checking the yellow piece of paper before setting it back down. Louis walked up to him, and did a quick check on the items displayed in front of him. "Yep, that's what we need."

Harry squinted at the paper, "Are you sure this is everything? And you've got the measurments correct?"

Louis rolled his eyes, "Harry, I've been making The Tomlinson's Strawberry & Chocolate Chip Pancakes since I was eight. I'm pretty sure we've got everything."

"Ok, ok. So what do we do first?"

"Harry," Louis shook his head, "I thought you were a world renowned chef?"

Harry chuckled, "Just trying to be a gentlemen."

"Right," Louis snickered, bending down to grab a large mixing bowl. Harry tensed, his eyes slipping to the tiny sliver of exposed tan skin that peeked from underneath Louis' jumper. He bit his lip, and quickly averted his eyes when Louis turned back to him, bowl in hand. "Put the eggs and stuff in there."

"Eggs and stuff? Couldn't be any more detailed, can't you Lou?" Harry smirked.

"Just read it like it is on the paper," Louis said, shoving the piece of paper into the boy's chest. Harry snickered, and read off the ingredients, adding them into the large bowl. Once everything was in and he was sure there were no eggshells in the mix, he began to stir the batter, while Louis turned the dial to the stove top, setting the heat and placing the griddle over the burner.

Louis turned to Harry, "You stir like my grandmum. C'mon Harry! Put those muscles to use and stir like your life depends on it!"

"Don't rush me," Harry said, keeping his slow, easy pace. He stirred longer than he was supposed to, just to get on Louis' nerves. Louis yanked the bowl from his grasp, and poured a small amount of batter onto the griddle. The thick mixture crackled and sizzled, slowly solidifying into a golden brown pancake. Louis flipped it, "Harry, be a dear and fetch me a plate."