Young & Beautiful

his words with a smile, “I did pick out the china myself! And the flowers. And the cutlery.”
“Who set the table then, Harry?” Louis asks, exasperated. And, maybe, biting his cheek to fight a
smile. Perhaps.
A stubborn line forms on Harry’s lips as he stares, hands behind back.
“Harry,” Louis warns, biting his cheek harder as the boy rocks back on his heels, a stray curl
bouncing.
“Rory,” he finally admits.
“Rory??” Louis exclaims, immediately darting his hand to Harry’s side, pinching him delicately.
Harry laughs, bright and surprised, immediately capturing Louis’ hand in his own, fingers
clamped and unyielding.
“Stop!” he giggles, but he doesn’t move away.
“You’ve already dragged Rory here and made him set the fucking table? And you want to ring
him again?? What’s wrong with you??” Louis demands, but he’s laughing at Harry’s struggle to
keep Louis’ hands away, laughing at Harry’s laugh, laughing at the way the room glows and
bows to Harry’s presence.
Laughing because he is really, really fucking in love.
“I was busy getting dressed,” Harry’s voice drags out in the time it would take any normal human
being to say three sentences. Slow and deliberate and oddly musical despite its monotony.
With a shake of the head, Louis smiles.
“What am I going to do with you,” he sighs, wishing he didn’t sound so damn fond all of the time
as he bops his nose into Harry’s cheek, arms wrapping around his waist.
Harry leans into the feeling, slides his hands over Louis’ arms. He’s smiling.
Always smiling.
“Keep me,” Harry mumbles, resting his lips upon Louis’ forehead. “I’ve been told I make a rather
beautiful accessory.”
Beautiful accessory?
Accessory?
NOPE. No. No.
Louis’ eyebrows pinch as he steps back; tilts Harry’s head to meet his gaze full on.
“You’re not an accessory, Harry,” he says, feeling prickly and hearing his voice quiver, just the
slightest.
Which…okay, yeah. Louis is a bit over-sensitive when it comes to this sort of thing, is a bit too
quick to stomp out any hint at Harry’s worth being less than what it is. But damn it—he has a
reason to. Given their past, given Harry’s past, given everything, he has a reason to be sensitive
about it, has a reason to enforce Harry’s true worth shamelessly and without fail. He has a reason
to pour every fiber of himself into the passion he gives Harry, charges it into his support, his