Notdarlingwayne
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"So you're using me and my kitchen for a bigger paycheck?" Harry asks. "What do I get out of it?"
"What do you-" Louis parrots in disbelief. "I get a job that doesn't make me work ten hour shifts just to barely pay my rent while you get three meals a day cooked for you."
"So, what, you're like some glorified housewife?"
Housewife, personal chef, Louis doesn't care. Contract's signed and done; T's crossed and I's dotted. Louis will wear an apron and twirl his hair all pretty if that's what he wants. Even if the job feels more like some drawn out jail sentence, Louis hopes this isn't going to be a long summer.
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Bookmarked by Notdarlingwayne
28 Oct 2024
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“I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”
Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones.
Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.
Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.
Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.
“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”