one shot; hair cut time... (harry/louis)
summary: louis gets a haircut but not without a fuss.
notes/warnings: so the picture of louis came up on harry's instagram and of course my mind had to invent a little story about how harry came to be there watching. this is nothing serious, nor is it what i really believe happened, it's just a little work of fiction about my favourite special snowflakes.
*****
Louis keeps saying he looks like an idiot and Harry agrees but he doesn't say anything; instead he just nods and tries his very hardest not to giggle. Because the truth is, yes, he looks hilarious. It wouldn't be half as bad if it weren't for the pink everything. The hairbrush is pink, and the clip that's holding half of his hair upright, and the hair-dryer that one of the assistants is waving around in his face are all various shades of pink.
Harry doesn't mind haircuts, even though he's always terrified they won't cut it right - they're still better than the make up chair any day - but Louis looks like he's being tortured or held against his will or something and Harry can't help but roll his eyes.
It was a struggle even to get him there in the first place and Louis had used every excuse under the sun to try and avoid it - he didn't need a haircut, it was fine as is, he was tired, he was feeling really ill, if he went alone masses of fans would descend from the sky and swarm around him until they'd picked him apart into little pieces and he didn't even exist any more - all of the usual Louis Tomlinson antics.
'Louis, just get your stupid hair cut, it's not a big deal,' Zayn finally snapped, but Lou was having none of it.
'What if they make me bald!?' he screeched, falling dramatically off of his chair, clutching the top of his head.
'They won't make you bald, Lou,' Harry had said quietly.
'And how would you know that!?' Louis half yelled back, still playing up the theatrics of it all.
'Because I'll come with you,' he said, and Louis almost cracked a smile.
'Well,' he seemed to consider the offer for a moment, and Harry wondered if he really is that terrified of the hairdressers. 'Well, you come with me, and let me have that blue jumper I was admiring the other day, and you've got yourself a deal. I'll go.'
Harry had purchased a navy blue jumper a few months back, and it was one of his favourites. It was knitted, with raised vertical lines running down the front. Warm enough, and not scratchy around the neck like so many of the ones he'd bought in the past. There had been multiple occasions he'd noticed Louis trying to steal it, taking it out of the washing, or casually asking if he could 'borrow' it, and Harry was always telling him to just go out and fucking buy one if he was so bloody in love with it, but Louis would always flash him that stupid grin and say 'Nah, I only like yours.'
Harry had sighed heavily and agreed, knowing it was the only way he would even go without any more drama.
Louis had danced his way in to Harry's room, emerging with the jumper, and made a big scene out of putting it on like he'd won the greatest prize on earth.
And finally they'd ended up here, Louis looking like a complete twat with his hair all over the place and in clips and cussing under his breath at the sight of himself in the mirror and it really was hilarious. Somehow it made him look like he was only about five years old and the sight of it made Harry smile. He was still absent-mindedly stroking his own sleeve almost like he was proud of the jumper or something, and suddenly Harry's phone is in his hand with the camera open and he's saying 'Smile!' in a ridiculously cheesy voice thats so bad he can feel himself cringing and Louis doesn't even attempt a smile; instead pulling a face that looks halfway between horrified and three seconds away from tears.
Harry grins at him, satisfied with the result, and Louis hisses, 'That never gets shown to anybody, you hear me boy?'
'But that wasn't part of the deal,' Harry replies. Louis sighs loudly and then proceeds to strike a slightly seductive pose, pointing at the pink clips in his hair.
'Whatever Curly, I'm totally pulling this off.'
notes/warnings: so the picture of louis came up on harry's instagram and of course my mind had to invent a little story about how harry came to be there watching. this is nothing serious, nor is it what i really believe happened, it's just a little work of fiction about my favourite special snowflakes.
*****
Louis keeps saying he looks like an idiot and Harry agrees but he doesn't say anything; instead he just nods and tries his very hardest not to giggle. Because the truth is, yes, he looks hilarious. It wouldn't be half as bad if it weren't for the pink everything. The hairbrush is pink, and the clip that's holding half of his hair upright, and the hair-dryer that one of the assistants is waving around in his face are all various shades of pink.
Harry doesn't mind haircuts, even though he's always terrified they won't cut it right - they're still better than the make up chair any day - but Louis looks like he's being tortured or held against his will or something and Harry can't help but roll his eyes.
It was a struggle even to get him there in the first place and Louis had used every excuse under the sun to try and avoid it - he didn't need a haircut, it was fine as is, he was tired, he was feeling really ill, if he went alone masses of fans would descend from the sky and swarm around him until they'd picked him apart into little pieces and he didn't even exist any more - all of the usual Louis Tomlinson antics.
'Louis, just get your stupid hair cut, it's not a big deal,' Zayn finally snapped, but Lou was having none of it.
'What if they make me bald!?' he screeched, falling dramatically off of his chair, clutching the top of his head.
'They won't make you bald, Lou,' Harry had said quietly.
'And how would you know that!?' Louis half yelled back, still playing up the theatrics of it all.
'Because I'll come with you,' he said, and Louis almost cracked a smile.
'Well,' he seemed to consider the offer for a moment, and Harry wondered if he really is that terrified of the hairdressers. 'Well, you come with me, and let me have that blue jumper I was admiring the other day, and you've got yourself a deal. I'll go.'
Harry had purchased a navy blue jumper a few months back, and it was one of his favourites. It was knitted, with raised vertical lines running down the front. Warm enough, and not scratchy around the neck like so many of the ones he'd bought in the past. There had been multiple occasions he'd noticed Louis trying to steal it, taking it out of the washing, or casually asking if he could 'borrow' it, and Harry was always telling him to just go out and fucking buy one if he was so bloody in love with it, but Louis would always flash him that stupid grin and say 'Nah, I only like yours.'
Harry had sighed heavily and agreed, knowing it was the only way he would even go without any more drama.
Louis had danced his way in to Harry's room, emerging with the jumper, and made a big scene out of putting it on like he'd won the greatest prize on earth.
And finally they'd ended up here, Louis looking like a complete twat with his hair all over the place and in clips and cussing under his breath at the sight of himself in the mirror and it really was hilarious. Somehow it made him look like he was only about five years old and the sight of it made Harry smile. He was still absent-mindedly stroking his own sleeve almost like he was proud of the jumper or something, and suddenly Harry's phone is in his hand with the camera open and he's saying 'Smile!' in a ridiculously cheesy voice thats so bad he can feel himself cringing and Louis doesn't even attempt a smile; instead pulling a face that looks halfway between horrified and three seconds away from tears.
Harry grins at him, satisfied with the result, and Louis hisses, 'That never gets shown to anybody, you hear me boy?'
'But that wasn't part of the deal,' Harry replies. Louis sighs loudly and then proceeds to strike a slightly seductive pose, pointing at the pink clips in his hair.
'Whatever Curly, I'm totally pulling this off.'