Catfish [l.s] (boyxboy)

IM Wasted

hi guys. so I have two stories that I am thinking of writing. I am not sure if I can write both right now BUT one of the ideas was given to me by @delineation (really hope I spelled that right) and she's a lovely person so thank you for that. my other idea is completely separate and I don't quite have the whole plot planned out yet but I really want a co-writer for that one if I do decide to write it.

is anyone interested in that? I can tell you the idea if you'd like, just comment on this line of text if you can. if you can't then you can just PM me. if no one wants to I will probably wait until I am closer to finishing this story to write it. I already have a title and everything :)

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"So then I said to 'er, Anna; there's more than one Louis Vuitton," Harry slurs. Niall bursts out laughing almost immediately, slapping his knee and doubling over like it's the best thing he's ever heard. Zayn smirks, Louis takes another drag with raised eyebrows, Liam downs another shot. Louis is beginning to consider restricting Liam's intake, but Liam seems to think that the normal rules of being drunk do not apply to him.

"Lou, why're you smoking?" Harry hiccups and makes grabby hands at the joint in Louis' hand. Louis pats Harry's hand gently, coaxing it away.

"Because," he answers simply.

"Adult stuff," Zayn provides. Harry whines, he literally whines. Louis swears, if he feels a certain someone start to poke up again-

"I am an adult," Harry protests.

"You're a baby adult," Liam snickers, as if that makes any sense. It seems to deeply upset Harry though, because he slumps in his seat and groans. Niall is still laughing, but now he's throwing things at Liam, who is responding to them a few seconds late; karate chopping the air just after the object had hit him in the arm.

"Fuck youuu," Harry sings loudly, earning anxious glares from those surrounding them.

"Haz; language," Louis isn't usually a stifler when it comes to foul language but they're out in public and Harry has a reputation to maintain.

At Louis' words, Harry's head snaps up. He's got a hazy look to his eyes and he's not the same clean, put together Harry that Louis is used to seeing. Harry licks his lips once while he stares at Louis who blinks back slowly; Louis has only had one drink, but since the joint currently smoking in his hand was legal in their current location, he had taken advantage of the situation. Maybe gone too far, but, whatever. He feels like he's on a cloud right now. A white, fluffy, soft cloud. As soft as Harry's hair - no, softer. (That's a pretty fucking soft cloud, of you ask Louis.) Harry looks hot and Louis wants to lick him. Literally.

So when Harry slams his hand down on the table and slurs, "Hey Lou, can I talk to you in the loo?" Louis of course agrees immediately and practically tackles Zayn trying to get out of the booth. Liam calls after him, saying something about protection - Louis isn't listening.

Harry shoves Louis into a little family restroom with no stalls and a locked door. The lights are off but Louis can still see Harry looming over him and tracing his fingers down the tattoos on Louis' arm. He shivers.

"Haven't been able to stop thinking about you, Lou," Harry whispers gruffly into Louis' ear. Louis' breath hitches as Harry rests a hand directly on his arse.

"Harry, don't; you're drunk."

"So what?"

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I need to say it now, I won't be brave enough when I'm sober," Harry argues. "Louis, I've been thinking. You and I; we work."

"What?" Louis is trying to fight against Harry's grip; he will not be Harry's drunken mistake, "Harry. You're straight."

"Nuh uh; wanna know a secret?" Harry giggles - actually giggles. "I think I might be bisexual."

"Harry, please. Take your hand off my arse."

Harry only squeezes instead, making Louis jump with a small yelp that definitely is not turning him on. "Lou, I want this. I want you."

"No, you don't. Harry. Listen to me," he tries to take Harry's face between his hands, but Harry's being a stubborn shit and won't let him. "I'm not going to take advantage of you like this."

"Please," Harry says quietly, and Louis' heart kind of breaks.

"No, Harry. You're drunk, this isn't - this isn't consent, I'm sorry. I can't do that to you."

"Fine," Harry seems hurt, so Louis is ready for him to turn around and walk out, but he doesn't. "But you don't need consent to do this."

"Wha-" Louis' words are caught in his throat when Harry meshes their lips together messily. Louis feels completely at loss for words but he's so whipped over Harry that if he responds immediately and enthusiastically, no one has to know.

And if he walks out of the room ten minutes later with freshly snogged lips and a dark purple mark on his neck along with the realization that neither one of them will likely remember the incident the next morning, well.

No one has to know that either.