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Louis’ already outside when Harry steps through the restaurant’s back doors with a sigh. He’s leaning against the brick wall, mobile in one hand, cigarette in the other, and he exhales a puff of smoke when he looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Tired?”

“Like you wouldn't believe,” Harry says, leaning back against the wall and rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He’d had a few tests today, which meant an all-nighter studying, and it’s Friday, which is when the restaurant’s usually the busiest. “You?”

“M’sure I can believe how tired you are,” Louis says simply, stubbing the cig out with the scuffed toe of his shoes. Harry lets his head thump back against wall, watching as he pockets his mobile and turns to Harry, smiling, arms crossed over his chest. It’s just beginning to snow these recent weeks, and his glasses are foggy. “You’ve nothing to do tomorrow, right? Just sleep in.”

“That sounds like a dream, really,” he says. He’s got the urge to reach out and sweep away the fringe that’s fallen over Louis’ forehead, tips just in his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m going to do the exact same,” he grins, pushing his fringe away himself before Harry can gather the courage and do it himself. He then squints at Harry, lips pursing. “Say, H -- is it even time for your break yet?”

“Oh. Oh!” Harry says, pushing himself away from the wall. “Right. Paul told me to fetch you -- he wants to talk to you.” Louis makes a face, a cross between horrified and disgusted, and Harry laughs a little. “Don't worry, he didn't look like he was going to reprimand you.”

“We’ll see about that, I suppose,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes, before pushing himself from the wall as well. He gives Harry a pat on the shoulder and smiles. “Thanks, mate,” he says, and then he tightens the red apron around his waist before heading inside.

Harry rubs his shoulder, fingers curling around the spot where Louis had touched him, and sighs.

*

He heads back inside a few minutes later and his shift is well busy until closing time. Louis, Liam and Zayn have to stick around and clean so he and Niall head back to the dorms before them. It’s snowing harder this time ‘round, and Harry pulls his jacket tighter over his shoulders.

“London is always so cold,” Niall huffs, and when Harry looks over at him, his nose is pink. “Hate it.”

“This isn't even as bad as it gets,” Harry says, giving him a nudge with his elbow. “Toughen up, Nialler.” Niall rolls his eyes but smiles, rubbing his red cheeks with his gloved hands, before grabbing Harry by the hood of his jacket. “What --”

“Can we stop here?” he asks, and when Harry follows his line of sight, he sees a candy store a few shops down. He doesn't remember seeing it around here before, but then again, downtown is always ever-changing. “Please?”

Harry studies it for a moment -- he’d like to escape the cold for a minute, and Louis had mentioned a few days ago he’s craving those (horribly expensive) chocolate balls coated in hazelnut. “Why not,” he shrugs, and Niall claps and tugs him in the direction of the store.

Warm light spills out its windows and a bell over the doorway tinkles as they step inside; the design feels like some place from a fairytale. There’s a pretty woman -- probably in her early thirties, maybe -- behind the counter, long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing an apron with the shops name written on the chest. “Hello,” she says, smiling, and Harry repeats it as Niall gives her a crooked smile.

She ducks down under the counter, and when he hears rummaging noises he heads down one of the aisles, glancing at the piles of candy stacked up in every corner. There’s a section for different colours, for chocolate, for caramel and toffee -- for nearly everything, and he glances at Niall to see him already with a plastic bag in hand, shoveling up a hefty amount of gummy bears.

It doesn't take very long to find the chocolate Louis wants -- takes a while to get over the price, though -- but he grabs two packets, collects Niall from a corner of the last aisle, where he’s busy contemplating between alien-shaped lollipops or dinosaur-shaped lollipops, and wheels him over to the cash register.

The woman -- her silver name tag says Caroline, and underneath that Store Owner -- looks up from where she’s writing in a black log book and smiles warmly. “Finished?” she asks, and they both nod a little over-enthusiastically. “Found everything you were looking for?”

“And a lot more,” Niall says happily, dropping five baggies onto the counter and swinging his backpack down from his shoulders to grab his wallet. Harry snorts, eyes wandering from the till to the racks of candy on display around it, landing on a red marshmallow-looking thing shaped like a heart. He picks it up curiously, reads the front of its cellophane wrapping -- My Love candy -- and drops it on the counter, beside his chocolate.

Caroline raises an eyebrow at it, before scanning it. “It’s a good one,” she says lightly, and Harry nods, watching her tuck it into the bag. “£25, please.”

*

Louis lights up exactly the way Harry had been hoping for when he presents him with the chocolate, shoving his laptop off his knees and ripping one of the packets open. Harry watches him as he pulls his coat off, tossing it onto the chair tucked by the study desk, and falls back onto his bed.

“You better have brought something for yourself,” Louis murmurs, and Harry glances at him. “M’not sharing.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry snorts, sitting up and digging in the bag before pulling out the My Love. “Look at it. Jealous?”

Louis takes one look at it before cackling. Harry rolls his eyes and rips it open, sliding two fingers inside and pulling out the thick red marshmallow. “What even is it?” Louis asks, standing up from his bed and plopping down beside Harry. “It’s probably only colour dye and diabetes, innit.”

Harry shrugs before shoving it in his mouth, and Louis’ eyes widen, one of his sticky fingers in between his mouth. It takes a moment of heavy chewing before Harry can say anything, but when he does, it’s -- “very sugary,” he chokes out, holding his jaw and squinting. Louis looks like he’s on the verge of laughing again.

“I can tell,” he says, popping another one of the nutty chocolate balls in his mouth. Harry stops chewing for a moment, because his jaw is tired, and because chewing distracts him from watching Louis chew, which is much more fun than trying to consume whatever he’s put in his own mouth.

The only reason he ends up finishing it is because of the torment he imagines Louis would cast on him if he chickened out and spit it into a napkin. Louis still looks like he wants to poke fun at him once he’s finished it, but he doesn't, just gives Harry a self-satisfied smirk, pulls his laptop onto his bed, and makes him watch The Conjuring with him (“I’m not going to fucking watch Annabelle before it, Harold” “Annabelle is the God damn prequel, Lewis.”)

*

Harry feels odd as soon as he wakes up.

It’s not an oh God I didn't sleep at all last night odd, or an oh God I am way too drunk for this much sun right now odd, or an oh God Louis is in my bed because he got drunk last night and wanted to cuddle and now I have morning wood odd. It’s an oh God why do I feel like my body is so tight and why does the world look so different and why is my my head pounding and why is Louis staring at me while looking so concerned odd.

Okay, so there’s a possibility it’s an oh God I am way too drunk for this much sun right now odd. Except, shit -- he didn't get drunk last night.

And Louis looks alarmingly concerned.

“Harry --” he rasps, pushing himself up from Harry’s bed. Harry tries to reach out and thumb at his cheek, ask him what’s wrong, but he finds he can’t reach out very far when he tries, and that --

His fingers are webbed. Definitely drunk, then.

“Harry,” Louis says again, and Harry watches him as he looks around the room wildly. His hair is sticking up oddly, the way is always is when he wakes up, and he’s in a rumpled shirt and plaid pyjama pants. Around his eyes are puffy red and he’s not wearing glasses. “Harry! This isn't fucking funny!”

Tell me about it, Harry thinks, and ribbits.

Oh.

He blinks, and sits up, landing on his belly. He’s very close to his mattress, he realizes now, and his eyes feel too big. He ribbits again, feels panic build up in his slick bulging belly, and hops to the edge of his bed, looking up at Louis, who looks down at him quickly before dashing out of their dorm room.

He sits there for a moment, stock-still, staring at the wall. Louis comes back a few minutes later, hand wrapped around Liam’s wrist, Zayn and Niall trailing behind the two of them. Niall’s squinting and yawning, Liam’s blinking and running a hand through his messy hair, and Zayn looks like a smoking hot zombie with less blood.

“What do you mean Harry’s gone?” Liam asks, sounding soothing. Harry feels a little calm at the sound of his voice. “Maybe he had early classes?”

“He doesn't have any classes today, you dolt!”

“Work?”

“None of that either, you shit bug.”

Louis’ insults are very childish today. Harry ribbits. Zayn yells.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks. Louis looks from him to harry, dropping Liam’s wrist and stepping over to him. He picks Harry up gently -- Harry knew him since he was seven, and yes, Louis was that boy who picked up slimy bugs and chased people around with them -- cradling him in his cold palms and squinting at him.

“Harry left and he didn't leave a note,” he says, “but he left this frog in his bed.”

“Sounds like something Haz would do,” Liam says. Harry ribbits again, annoyed. He wouldn't leave Louis a frog if he ever left Louis in the first place. Probably a few more chocolates, maybe some flowers. A diamond necklace. Sports car. His beating heart. Stuff like that.

Louis blinks at Harry again, before looking at Liam. “What do you --” he says slowly, “think happened? Do you think he really just up and left?”

“God, Lou, no,” Zayn says, rubbing his eyes before padding into the room. He slides his fingers through Louis’ hair, rubbing slowly. “He’d never do that, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, sighing, before squinting at Harry. “I wonder where this frog came from though.”

“I dunno ‘bout that,” Zayn says, yawning again, “but I’ve got work today, so ‘m heading back to bed.” He gives Louis one more pat on the head, nods to Liam and Niall, and shuffles out of the room. Niall and Liam come and give Louis a pat on the shoulder, murmuring, “just give it some time, he’s probably doing something weird like always, he’ll be back,” and Louis nods and watches them leave too before looking back to Harry.

“Do you know where he went?” he asks, and Harry hops on his palm once, twice. “You don't, then.”

Not what Harry was trying to say, but alright.

Louis stands up after a moment and tumbles forward into Harry’s bed, and Harry ribbits, pleased and a little surprised. “He probably is out doing something weird like always,” he sighs into Harry’s pillow, and Harry ribbits again, because he’s definitely doing something weird, but he’s not out doing it. “He’ll be back.”

Harry hopes.

*

Louis wakes up an hour later, blinking awake slowly, fingers twitching by his sides. Harry’s been watching him pretty much the whole time he slept, feeling smug that he can do that freely now. He’s so pretty. If only he weren't so problematic.

Louis yawns and scratches his cheek, before reaching out and giving Harry a pat on the flat, slimy head. He wrinkles his nose and wipes his fingers on a napkin from the tissue box sitting on Harry’s nightstand, tosses it on the floor and rolls out of bed, padding to the bathroom.

Harry hears the shower turn on after a minute, and he ribbits, hopping off the bed and onto the nightstand. Louis’ Galaxy is laying there, and he sends a quick thank you out to the Goddess that these phones are so big. He pushes down on the home button, watching the screen flicker on and ignoring Louis’ Captain America wallpaper -- he’s way hotter than Chris Evans when human, okay, can someone tell Louis this -- and presses on the little internet icon.

Once it loads up, he realizes he a few things -- 1) he doesn't know what to Google, 2) he’s probably not alarmed enough about his current situation, and 3) he’s a frog. The last point gets to him big time, and he ribbits a few times, trying to loosen himself up.

The shower closes then, and he closes Louis’ phone and hops back to his bed, eyes widening when Louis steps out the shower very naked and very wet. He’s running a hand through his damp hair, tattoos dark and mouth red, and he looks a lot like a sex God. Harry tries very hard not to look at his cock or his arse, and somehow succeeds.

“He’s still not back?” Louis asks the room at large, frowning. “That wanker.” He pulls a towel from the closet, wrapping it around his waist before heading to the window and tugging the curtain back the slightest bit. Harry narrows his eyes; it’s way too easy for everyone else to see Louis’ cock. “I’ll give him a piece of my damn mind -- he probably knows what’s waiting for him, and that’s why he’s not coming back.”

Well, Louis’ very wrong, but Harry can overlook that. He watches Louis dry himself up before changing into sweats and one of Harry’s threadbare jumpers. He ribbits when Louis heads for the doors after slipping his shoes on, and Louis pauses and gives him a look, before picking him up.

“Wanna come with?” he asks, leveling Harry with his eyes, and Harry ribbits -- it’s honestly quite hard to nod when you haven't got a neck. “Well, alright. Just be quiet, alright? I dunno if frogs are allowed in the dorm.”

He shuts his wide mouth, and Louis curls one hand around him as he heads into the silent corridor to the stairwell. Harry curls his long fingers over the side of Louis’ hand and leans forward, eyes flickering each which way. So far, he’s discovered that he can move faster as a frog, even though his legs are 99x shorter than before, and he can see a lot more with frog eyes. Huh.

“He could have hooked up with a girl, I suppose,” Louis says after a moment, sounding quiet and unsure, and Harry’s eyes widen, “but he hasn't done that in so long. God, I hope that’s not where he is now.”

Harry wonders how you ask someone ‘why?’ in Frog. Instead, he hops in Louis’ palm, looking up at him, but Louis doesn't seem to pay much attention to him, just sucks his bottom lip into his mouth -- fuck -- and furrows his brows. “I haven't gotten jealous in so long,” he says softly, still looking around as they head down the stairs. “I don't like feeling jealous.”

Harry frowns, and sticks his tongue out, licking Louis’ thumb reverently. It has the opposite effect -- Louis yelps and drops him, and for a moment Harry thinks this is it, I’m gonna die a frog, and my best friend slash love of my life killed me, until he lands on his feet.

There are perks to being a frog, he’ll have to admit.

“Fuck,” Louis says, bending down to scoop him up again.This is one perk -- Louis’ never been able to carry him before, and he thinks he’ll miss it when he becomes human again. He rubs his bulging cheek against Louis’ palm and ribbits, satisfied. “Are you alright? I mean, you look alright, but -- I’m sorry.”

He ribbits it's okay. Louis still looks worried. Probably didn't understand, then. Oh well. Not everyone knows every language.

He stays in the cold clutch of Louis’ hand for a good hour, watching Louis search the dorm high and low, before he heads back to their room, looking adorable and defeated. Harry hadn't known someone with so many tattoos could look so cute, but then again, Louis is mostly on his default attitude always -- stone-cold -- so it’s not like he’d have known before.

“You think i’m overreacting, don't you,” he says to Harry, pressing his thighs together and placing Harry on them. Harry’s mind stops working for a moment, before he sinks into the plush, soft meat -- this is what dreams are made of. “But, like, the thing is, this isn't like Harry. He’s never done something like this before. He’d --” Louis rubs two fingertips over Harry’s side, frowning, then shrugs one shoulder like he’s feigning nonchalance. “He’d never do this to me.”

Damn right he wouldn't. Harry stops leaning into Louis’ touch and frowns, suddenly feeling a little sad. He doesn't like this new side of Louis, but that’s because he knows Louis’ not like this under normal circumstances. He ribbits.

“God,” Louis says, and shakes his head before placing Harry on the pillow and curling under the comforter. They’re in Harry’s bed again, and there is a very long list of things Harry would do to be able to be a human right now, arms around Louis instead of beside Louis’ forehead. “Goodnight.”

Spoiler: it’s not a very good night.

*

Sunday mostly consists of Louis studying, looking out the window, eating the rest of the chocolate Harry bought him, peeks into the corridor, watching Captain America 2 on his laptop, and checking the call log/text messages/email inbox on his mobile.

It’s quite miserable, if Harry’s honest. And he literally watched Louis sleep for a whole eight hours without blinking a bulbous eye.

Monday, Louis wakes up early, looks out the window, peeks into the corridor, then goes through his mobile before sighing heavily and taking a shower. Harry takes the time to hop off the bed and scour their dorm for dead bugs that might have accumulated over the year they’ve lived in it -- they’re two young men, okay? -- and sticking his tongue out, lapping them up. Bugs taste a lot better when you’re a frog and not one of bratty nightmare nine-year-old Louis’ unfortunate victims.

Louis steps out the shower a while later in a towel this time round, repeats the three-step procedure, then dries off and changes. He then shoves his books into his bag, and his work apron on top of them, before tugging on Harry’s jumper and giving Harry a contemplative look.

“I dunno if I should bring you to class,” he says dubiously, pushing his glasses higher up his button nose. Harry ribbits and decides for him; jumps up, clinging to the jumper, before hopping onto his shoulder. “Ugh, fine. But be quiet, yeah? You’re oddly good at that.”

He says, “I haven't named you yet, I don't think,” after he closes the door and heads down the corridor. Harry ribbits; he hasn't yet, actually. “I think I’ll call you Harry. You kind of look like him.”

Harry’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Louis meets up with Niall, Zayn and Liam halfway to the main uni building. He laughs, nodding when Niall asks if he could pet Harry. “He does look kinda like Haz,” he says in wonder, patting Harry’s flat head. “You gonna keep him?”

“I’m not sure what to do to him, really,” Louis says.

“All I know is that you’ll keep him quiet during class,” Liam says sternly, and Louis rolls his eyes, holding his hand out at Niall. Harry ribbits when he’s dropped back into the small, familiar cold hand.

“I will, dad,” he says sarcastically, slinging one arm around Zayn’s shoulders and sliding Harry into the pocket of his sweats. Harry ribbits in frustration; it takes a moment for his head to pop out the opening of the pocket.

He stays quiet during the beginning of class, though he gets bored halfway through. Louis’ actually listening to the professor today of all days, so he wriggles out his pocket and hops onto the bench, looking around.

Liam is sitting beside Louis, so Harry sticks his tongue out, letting it snap against his thigh. Liam screams.

“Fuck --” Louis yelps, before looking down at where Liam’s rubbing his hand over his thigh, eyes landing on Harry. “Oh, shit.” His hand comes down to swipe at him, and in a split-second decision that is probably not one of Harry’s smartest, he hops away from it. “Come back!”

Harry hops as fast as he can down the benches, and soon the whole class is either screaming, out of their seat and on a desk, or chasing Louis chasing Harry. The professor looks pretty much furious and once Louis catches Harry with a loud scream of something completely classroom-inappropriate, he’s kicked out for the rest of the day.

“That was the opposite of quiet,” he hisses to Harry on the tube. He’s sat in a relatively quiet area in the back; they’re probably heading to the restaurant now. “I’m so disappointed in you, Harry.”

Harry watches in horror as the angry look drops from Louis’ face, replaced with something heartbreaking. “I feel like that to the other Harry too though, so, like. Don't feel too down, little guy. I’m probably just taking my anger of him out on you, and I’m sorry.”

Harry ribbits lowly, and when Louis smiles down at him softly, it’s kind of like he actually heard the it’s okay this time.

*

“Louis,” Paul says, in his specially-for-Louis signature exasperated, disbelieving voice. “Louis, you can’t bring a frog to work.”

“Why?” Louis asks, and Harry thinks proudly, did you hear that awesome argument? That’s my boy. “He’s tucked in the pocket of my apron, and he won't bother anyone.”

“Niall told me about what happened in your class today.”

Louis’ neutral facial expression doesn't waver. “Did he do it well? It was definitely a gotta-be-there scenario, but nonetheless, it was just an unfortunate mistake.”

Paul probably senses that there’s no use in arguing with Louis anymore; he rubs his hand over his face and sighs ever-suffering, before pressing two fingers to his temple. A classic reaction to any sort of interaction with Louis. “I swear, if you or the frog cause any trouble --”

“Me? Trouble? Higgins, you’ve mistaken me with someone else, certainly,” Louis says, and Harry ribbits a laugh. Louis grabs his notepad from the counter and spins around. “Now, if you’re finished your silly talk, I have families to feed Italian to.”

Paul groans as Louis walks into the dining room, and Harry smiles to himself, just keeping the tops of his eyes out as Louis takes the order of a family of three. No matter how crazy he is in day-to-day life, he’s really customer friendly, anyone can see that; by the time he leaves the table, the woman’s two kids have fallen in love with him and he’s convinced them to buy an appetizer. Brilliant.

Zayn, Liam and Niall arrive an hour later, and Harry falls asleep after a while; when he wakes up, Louis’ jostling the apron by untying it and pulling him from its pocket.

“Louis? Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Harry blinks sleepily, watching Louis nod and Paul step close to him. He ducks his head, furrowing his brows as he says lowly, “any clue where Harry is? You know he didn't show up today, and I didn't get any message from him saying he couldn't be here.”

Louis frowns. “It’s strange, innit?” he asks, “but I haven't a clue either, sorry.”

Paul frowns, and a conflicted look passes over his face before he sighs and gives Louis a pat on the shoulder. “Good work today,” he says finally, and Louis gives him a small smile in response. “Have a good night.”

“You too, sir,” he says, before placing Harry on the table. He shoves the apron into his bag and pulls his jumper back on, and when he heads outside, he shivers. Harry looks up, seeing the snow fall from the dark sky. “God, Harry loved winter.”

Harry ribbits, and Louis gasps, cupping a hand over him. “Oh, shit, you’re probably cold, aren't you?” He slides Harry into the pocket of his sweats and pulls the hem of the jumper down over him, patting him through the layers of material. “Don't worry, we’re going home now.”

Home. Harry really misses that place at the moment.

*

Harry finds himself perched on a stack of books for lit class the next day, watching Louis, Zayn, Niall and Liam type notes out on their laptops and talk about the last person they had sex with.

“Yeah,” Niall’s saying, “so she gave me a blowie and I returned the favour.” He smirks as he says it, and Liam groans, giving him a shove. Niall laughs and deflects it, looking at Louis. “You, Lou?”

“Wow,” Louis says, scratching his head with the butt of his pen. “Can I even remember?” Niall giggles again, and he smiles back goofily. “Um, like, two months ago I think, at some house party. The bloke was pretty hot, but I can’t remember his name.”

“You can remember he was hot but you can’t remember his name?” Zayn says with a little smile, waggling his eyebrows at Louis. “Slag.”

“Piss off, you’re in a relationship,” Louis scowls, flicking him with the pen. “He was the first person to fuck me bareback, and -- yes, Liam, I know it was bloody stupid of me to allow it, but it was so hot, and I was so drunk, alright?”

“It’s still so bloody stupid!” Liam exclaims. Harry’s already internally melted into a slimy green puddle of jealousy; Louis’ never told him about this development in his sex life. “That’s so dangerous! You could’ve gotten an illness -- could have gotten pregnant, Lou, and you didn't even know his name!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “God, Li, I knew his name back then, you should know that. And being pregnant doesn't sound like such a bother, y’know?”

Niall raises his eyebrows. “I’d have thought you weren't that type of lad, Lou.”

Louis shrugs. Harry’s come back from melted form and is listening keenly now. “Like, before, I was totally not into it, right? But now, it’s like, I don't think I’d mind if it were with someone I really liked. Loved.”

Harry really needs to become human again.

“With Harry,” Niall says, and Harry swears Louis’ cheeks pink slightly.

“Yeah,” he says a moment later, scratching his cheek. “Yeah.”

Harry really needs to become human again right the fuck now.

He ribbits and leaps off the books, hopping for dear life out of the library. A girl is just coming inside, and the doors swing open behind her; he takes the chance and bounds out with a second to spare before he became frog pancake. He leaps down the sidewalk, through the light dusting of snow on the floor until he reaches downtown, then keeps going until he’s in front of the candy shop from before.

He snaps his tongue out and wraps it around the door handle, pulling it open and hopping inside. He ribbits loudly as he comes to a halt in front of the cash register, and Caroline leans over, smiling when she sees him.

“Ah,” she says, “so you’ve finally figured it out. I’ve been expecting you.”

He ribbits again, more alarmed, more pleading, and she chuckles, coming out from behind the till and scooping him up, placing him on the counter. “You’ve really become a frog,” she says, raising an eyebrow, and he ribbits. “Alright, goodness, you’re impatient.”

He watches her as she leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, smile warm and fond. “You shouldn't have even sought my help, Harry, darling,” she says, “haven't you ever read a fairy tale?”

*

God damn True Love’s Kiss.

He’s actually a little annoyed at himself that he hadn't thought of it sooner. He hops back to campus as quickly as he can, though it’s harder this time around, since it’s started to get dark. He still arrives before Louis’ fallen asleep, though, which is fortunate; he’d cry if he was forced to go through Sleeping Beauty as well, and he’s not even sure if frogs can cry.

He slows down once he’s made it inside their dorm, catching his breath. Louis’ curled up in his bed again, a bottle of beer in one hand, eyes lidded and watching the wall behind the study desk. He ribbits and hops onto the bed, and Louis gasps quietly when he sees him.

“Oh, I thought you had left me as well,” he says, voice thick and slow. He reaches out, giving Harry a little scratch under the chin. They lock eyes, and it feels a little odd, really; Harry watches as he takes another swig of beer, hiccupping. “God, I miss him so much. I -- I love him so much.”

When Louis looks back down at him, his eyes are red-rimmed. Harry doesn't know how else to go about the procedure at this point, so he just -- purses his lips. He probably looks as ridiculous as he feels, because Louis snorts, leaning in and murmuring, “do you want a kiss, Harry the frog?”

He does, and he gets one -- it’s quick, and most likely because Louis is drunk and sad and doesn't know what he’s doing. The second one is longer, and Harry cups Louis’ warm cheek, using his free arm to wrap around Louis’ waist and pull him closer, their mouths open and wet, the bottle of beer spilling onto the floor under the bed, Louis’ hand fisting in the material of Harry’s shirt.

They pull back when they feel sated and dizzy, and Harry slides the hand resting on Louis’ cheek to cup the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I can’t believe you thought I’d leave you,” he whispers breathlessly, and Louis smiles, panting.

“It makes more sense than thinking you’ve become a frog,” he whispers back, closing his eyes, lips curling into a sweet smile. Harry shakes his head and leans in impossibly close, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“To tell you the truth, love, it really doesn't.”