maybe you're loveable, maybe you're my snowflake
Title: maybe you're loveable, maybe you're my snowflake
Pairing: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Disclaimer:This is a work of complete fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended.
Word count: 1352
Summary: Harry hates ice skating, but he really loves Louis. So. That's a dilemma. AU
Notes: This was basically just an excuse to write cute, Christmas-y Harry/Louis haha. I'm writing a much longer H/L Winter AU and I was wondering if someone could beta it for me? Message me if you could help me out, please. :)
When Louis gets an idea in his head, there's almost no chance of changing his mind. He's stubbornly insistent that way, but it's all part of his charm, and most people are charmed by Louis Tomlinson, so he sees no reason to change. Harry might beg to differ, at the moment, but that's only because he's really, really bad at ice skating. Louis really wants to kiss the pout right off his face, but more than that he wants to glide around Somerset holding Harry's hand like all the cheesy couples he would have made fun of before he met Harry. Harry's absolute refusal to step foot off solid concrete isn't quite conducive to this fantasy, though.
But Harry will have to buck up soon, because they're almost at the rink, and Louis isn't taking no for an answer
"You tricked me." says Harry, his arms crossed over his chest. "You said we were going to do something fun."
Louis tries not to laugh at Harry's surliness, his free hand coming over to rest on Harry's thigh, squeezing reassuringly. "Babe, it will be fun. Come on."
"You know I hate skating. I'm bloody awful at it." he says, body still tense under Louis' hand.
The thing about Harry is that he hates feeling inadequate; not in an obnoxious, has-to-be-good-at-everything kind of way, but in a heartbreaking, insecure-underneath-all-the-bravado kind of way. But this isn't about embarrassing Harry or skating literal circles around him. It's about Harry needing that extra little push from Louis every once in a while to break out of his comfort zone. Louis pushes when Harry needs it and Harry reins Louis in when he gets a little too wild. It's just the way they work; they balance each other out.
"It's not the Olympics, yeah? Just a little jaunt around Somerset. Just try it, for me, Haz? And if you don't like it, we'll leave and catch one of those ridiculous Broadway plays that you love so much and I swear I won't complain once." He crosses an 'x' over his chest to prove that he means business.
This coaxes a reluctant smile out of Harry. "Promise?"
"'Course, love." He knows exactly how far to push, and he would never force Harry into something he didn't want to do.
"Okay," he agrees after a moment of deliberation, his hand coming to rest atop Louis' on his thigh.
"That's my boy." Louis says, only half teasing, taking his other hand off the steering wheel for a second to pinch Harry's cheek.
Harry slaps him away half heartedly, laughing despite himself. "Not your boy. I am my own man." he protests, as if he doesn't love it when Louis lays claim to him.
"Not what you were saying last night, Harold." Louis says, smirking. Louis loves to bring up Harry's coital and post-coital ramblings at the most inopportune of times, if only to see the pretty blush spread across Harry's cheeks. It doesn't work as well when they're alone, but he'll take what he can get.
"Last night I was drunk and impressionable." he says, his cheeks only marginally brighter than they had been just a minute ago. Quite disappointing; Louis will have to double his efforts next time.
Louis winks. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe."
Louis finds the closest parking spot he can, which is still a bit of a jog; it's always busy downtown this close to Christmas. He juggles both his and Harry's skates as he walks, ("Seems only fair as you usher me off to my death.") quite pleased with himself for having convinced Harry to see the light with minimal effort.
"Lou, I think it's closed." Harry says as they approach the empty rink, aglow with soft fairy lights, and his tone is a little too hopeful for Louis' liking.
"Nope, I just rented it out for us."
Harry's mouth drops open and he stares at Louis incredulously. "Louis! That must have cost a bloody fortune!"
Louis shrugs; it definitely hadn't been cheap, but he isn't about to let on just how much of dent it had put in his chequing. Harry would do something stupid like insist on paying for half, or more. "I wanted you to feel comfortable, and I wanted it to be just the two of us."
Harry still looks a little like he wants to protest, but he must read something in Louis' expression, because he just says, "Closet romantic, you are, Lou." punctuated with a playful shove.
"I do try from time to time, Harold."
They sit down on a bench to put their skates on, and once Louis is done tying his laces, he kneels to help Harry with his own, ignoring his protests that he's perfectly capable of tying his own skates, because with the loose way Harry was tying them he would, undoubtedly, have broken an ankle.
Louis steps on the ice first and does a few practiced twirls, partly to show off and partly to show Harry that there's nothing to worry about. He skates over to where Harry is stood, worrying on his bottom lip and eyeing the ice distrustfully, and holds out an encouraging hand.
"I've got you, Haz."
He slips a gloved hand into Louis' and steps a tentative foot onto the ice and then slowly follows with the other. Louis quickly puts a steadying hand at Harry's hip when he sways, looking a little like a newborn foal learning to walk. It's all kinds of cute and endearing.
Louis glides backward slowly, leading Harry with both hands in his now. They continue like this until they've made an entire lap around the rink without incident. (Unless you count Harry stumbling a few times and Louis catching him, which Louis doesn't because it's just another excuse to have Harry in his arms, and he counts that as a victory, if anything.)
When they stop for a second, Harry is wearing a half triumphant, half surprised smile, and, really, how can Louis be expected not to laugh at the sheer adorableness of that? Furthermore, how can he be expected not to lean in for a slow kiss, warming Harry's chilled lips under his own?
The next lap Harry skates beside Louis, clutching tightly to one hand. He's still quite bad at skating, so the support isn't enough, and he falls on his arse rather comically when he gets a little over confident, coaxing Louis to speed up with him. But he doesn't look like he's about to cop out of the whole thing, so Louis' supposes it will be alright if he teases a little.
Louis crouches next to him. "Y'alright, Harry? Need me to kiss it better?"
Harry makes an unimpressed noise and reaches a hand out for Louis to help him up. Louis pulls him gently to his feet and pats his arse affectionately. "Later, then."
Harry rolls his eyes and smiles, giving up on pretending to be annoyed. This time he doesn't let go of either of Louis' hands, which is fine by Louis, because this way he gets to see the intensely concentrated look on Harry's face, biting at his bottom lip and willing himself to stay upright.
After a while, the cold begins to penetrate Louis' layers, permeating throughout his body and Harry is starting to shiver in front of him. There's just one more matter Louis needs to attend to before they get off the ice, though.
"So, did you have fun, Harry?" He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear Harry admit to it.
Harry hems and haws for a minute, knowing he's caught.
"Can we still go see The Phantom of Opera if I say yes?" His pretty lips twist into a hopeful smile, and he looks more adorable than he has any right to. It's no wonder, really, that Louis was smitten within mere weeks of meeting Harry at Niall's 'come freshmen, come all' party. (He doesn't come up with these names and he doesn't ask.)
Louis huffs out a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose for my favourite boy, I could be persuaded."