Call Me Baby: Chapter 10
It was hot and sticky in the room, beads of sweat crawling down Louis’ neck and slipping under the collar of his jumper. He tugged on it gently with his good hand, his other pruning in the hot encasement of the orange cast. The rubber feet of the metal folding chair in which his arse was planted squeaked against the linoleum as he shifted away from the table. One of the paint brushes rolled to the ground, and Louis, in his overheated, lethargic state, lunged for it. He missed by several inches, the plastic art utensil clattering to the ground, accompanied by Louis’ frustrated sigh.
He leaned over to reach for it, too lazy to move from his chair, when a head of curls suddenly blocked his vision. He watched as Harry bent down, his pants riding low on his hips, and picked up the brush, holding it out to Louis with a smirk.
“Already tired, Lou?” Harry asked him, laughing at his friend’s dazed nod, “The kids haven’t even gotten here, loony!”
“It’s hot,” Louis whined, “And I’m expecting to hate this-I can’t believe you assigned me to the face paint table! You know I’m a terrible artist!”
“If you’re hot, take your sweater off,” Harry told him pointedly, gesturing to the white, wooly jumper Louis was wearing, “And the reason you’re here is because no one else would do it-you think I wanted to let you near children’s faces with paint? After the drawings you’ve done?”
“So why can’t you do it?” Louis complained again, tugging on Harry’s hand, “Please, Harry, I don’t want to!”
“I can’t, Lou!” Harry laughed, tangling his fingers with Louis’, “You know I can’t-I’ve got to make sure the rest of the fair is running smoothly.”
“I don’t understand the point of a winter fair, anyway,” Louis pouted petulantly, “Shouldn’t you have fairs in the summer, when it’s nice, and you can have it outside?”
“In the summer kids have more to do-winter is when kids spend most of their time inside, playing video games or watching the telly,” Harry explained, crouching to look Louis in the eye, a small smile still playing on his lips, “that’s what the winter fair is for; to give them something else to do.”
“Why do you do that?” Louis griped, releasing Harry’s hand to tug on his curls, “Why do you always have to be so logical when I get whiny?”
“To stop you whining,” Harry chuckled, his hands resting gently on Louis’ thighs as he leaned forward into Louis’ hands, “Are you going to take your sweater off?”
“Eager to get me out of my clothes, aren’t we, Styles?” Louis grinned madly down at his friend, twisting the silky locks in his fingers. Harry’s eyes slipped shut, pushing his head further into Louis’ touch, a happy little sigh escaping his mouth.
“I’m not taking the face painting stand for you, loony,” Harry mumbled his head finally falling to rest on Louis’ thigh, as though his neck had given up trying to keep him upright, “You think you can just play with my hair, and I’ll so anything you want.”
“I wouldn’t think that if it wasn’t true, Harry,” Louis said, smiling down at his friend, who was all but purring at this point, “I just put my hands in, and you turn to mush.”
“You have nice hands,” Harry huffed, his breath caressing Louis’ leg. A shiver wracked his body, goose bumps rising on his skin. He cleared his throat awkwardly, the blood rising in his cheeks. He removed his fingers from Harry’s hair, earning a soft keen in protest, and pulled his jumper over his head. The white t-shirt he was wearing rode up on his stomach, before he settled it back around his hips. His hands immediately found their way back into Harry’s curls, and a small, involuntary sigh of“yes” fell from Harry’s mouth at the contact.
They stayed just like that for an immeasurable amount of time, before Suzanne, one of the other teachers, came over to see what was going on. The elderly woman insisted on taking Harry’s temperature, sure that he was feeling ill. Harry grumpily took the thermometer just to quiet the old woman, pointedly ignoring Louis’ hysterical laughter.
*~*~*~*
Louis was not a happy camper. He hated children, he hated this room, he hated his life, and, most of all, he hated Harry’s perfect face. The children kept demanding elaborate paintings on their faces, like a butterfly, or a spiderman mask, or the Mona Lisa-and Harry had smirked at him every time. The kids had stopped coming once they realized that Louis was pretty much the worst artist ever-although there were a few who kept coming back, with clean faces, and demanding more, and more, difficult paintings, just to watch Louis struggle.
“Alright, Carter, we’re gonna give Louis a break now,” Harry chuckled, placing a hand on the young boy’s shoulder, who pouted, evidently not done torturing Louis, “You can come back later, okay?”
“Thank you,” Louis breathed, slumping in relief against the chair as Carter scampered off, before glaring through half lidded eyes at his smirking friend, “You’re a dick.”
“Louis,” Harry laughed, “Not around the children.”
“Not around the children,” Louis grumbled darkly, “You hate me.”
“I do not!” Harry exclaimed, still laughing. He moved forward, settling on his knees in between Louis’ legs, wrapping his arms loosely around Louis’ waist. “You just hate painting.”
“Yeah, and you know that,” Louis whined, his own arms looping around Harry’s neck, his fingers twining in the curls at the base of Harry’s neck, “They’re trying to make this hard for me.”
“Only because you let them,” Harry smiled lazily up at him, shuffling forward so his arms could wrap all the way around Louis’ waist, leaning his head back slightly into Louis’ hands, “If you told them ‘no, I’m not doing that’, they’d take it. You’re letting them walk all over you.”
“I don’t know how to handle kids!” Louis cried, “They’re little monsters, and I don’t understand their brains.”
“You deal with the girls just fine,” Harry pointed out. Louis huffed, his fringe fluttering briefly off his forehead.
“The girls are related to me,” Louis told him, giving him a pointed look, “and they actually listen.”
“Yeah, they listen because they know you won’t do whatever they want,” Harry explained with an eye roll, “You just have to employ the same playful sternness with these kids as you do with the girls.”
“When does this end?” Louis asked abruptly, “When can we go home?”
“At one,” Harry chuckled, playing with the hem of Louis’ t-shirt, “You’re stuck here ‘til then.”
“Noooo,” Louis moaned, “It’s only eleven thirty!”
“You’ll live,” Harry grinned.
“Don’t leave me alone with these twerps,” Louis pleaded, “Please.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry laughed, shaking his head slightly, careful not to displace Louis’ fingers. Louis squawked indignantly.
“Why couldn’t you have stayed with me before?” Louis wailed, “I’ve been suffering over here for the passed two hours! And all you’ve been doing is laughing at me from the other side of the room!”
“You want me to laugh at you from over here?” Harry asked cheekily, earning a sharp tug on his hair from a petulant Louis, “Alright, I’m sorry-it was just too amusing, I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”
“You’re a dick,” Louis repeated, smiling against his will at the little grin that adorned Harry’s face.
“You love me,” Harry replied, and Louis fought the blush that threatened to color his cheeks.
“Shut up,” he whined, and Harry only laughed in response.
“C’mon,” Harry sighed, pushing himself up off the floor, rolling his eyes as Louis whined in protest, “We ought to open the face paint back up. Let me just run and let Jess know that I’m gonna be over here, so she can keep an eye on the rest of the fair.”
Louis nodded, fiddling awkwardly with the hem of his shirt as he awaited Harry’s return. He glanced up, surveying the room, and the children in it. He hadn’t seen the twins at all today, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. It’d be a safe bet to say they were in the gym, which would explain why he hadn’t seen them. His eyes flicked back over to Harry, who looked ridiculously good in the navy t-shirt he was wearing. Suddenly hot under the collar, Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat and tugging his shirt away from his torso briefly.
Harry sauntered back over to Louis, a smile still on his face, dimple ever present. He pulled another chair over, his biceps straining against the sleeve of his shirt. Louis swallowed hard, licking his lips briefly as he attempted to keep himself reigned in.
“So,” Harry said, sitting across from Louis and throwing his feet into his friend’s lap, “What’ve we got to do?”
“I don’t know!” Louis laughed, smacking Harry’s feet gently, but not making any attempt to remove them, “You’re the one who put me here!”
“You’re crazy,” Harry grinned, “You’ve been doing this for two hours! How do you not know what you’re doing?”
“Because I’ve been blocking it out,” Louis told him, absently fiddling with Harry’s sneakers, “This is the worst.”
“It’s better now that I’m here, yeah?” Harry beamed, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“It is!” Louis cried, “You only know them as angels because they like you! They’re actually little devils.”
“Shush, you,” Harry smirked, “You’re not trying hard enough.”
“This is why you’re the teacher, and I’m the waiter,” Louis told him, “I deal with adults, you deal with children.”
“There have to be children at your job,” Harry said, giving Louis a pointed look, “You work at a restaurant-don’t families come in?”
“Yeah, they do,” Louis agreed, “But I let Liam take those. He’ll take the tables if I trade breaks so he can be with Zayn.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Harry laughed, giving him a fond look, “What’s up with them anyway?”
“What do you mean?” Louis asked confusedly. Harry raised an eyebrow.
“They’re all over each other,” Harry stated.
“We’re all over each other,” Louis pointed out, taking a quiet pleasure in Harry’s blush.
“Well, yeah, but that’s just how we are…” Harry trailed off, realizing he wasn’t really making much sense, “I just mean: they seem a lot like they’re dancing around each other. Like, they want to be around each other, and they seek each other out, but they’re kind of… I dunno, it’s hard to explain.”
“No,” Louis sighed, “I kind of get what you mean. I don’t really know what’s up with them, they’ve been friends forever. I guess they’ve lost sight of the boundaries.”
“Yeah,” Harry muttered, “Lost sight of the boundaries.”
“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Louis said hastily, “I just mean, you know, there is a line between platonic relationships and romantic ones, otherwise people would have sex with their friends.”
“Well, Lou,” Harry said, “There are people who do.”
“I know, but I meant more as a general rule, than as an exception,” Louis explained, “there’s a level of physical attraction that comes with being friends, but most people would balk at the idea of having sex with their friends. That’s what I mean by boundaries.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed softly, “Most people would.”
Continued here