Work Text:
A faint hum from the television drifts in and out as Louis lingers on the edge of sleep, mind still fogged and floating somewhere soft. His fluffy, brown ears twitch as the background noise sharpens into voices and he hums quietly to himself, lips smacking once in his drowsiness. With a slow, heavy blink, he takes in the amber wash of the sky from his curled spot on an oversized armchair.
Golden, late-afternoon light spills through the windows and settles throughout their flat. His sensitive eyes blink again and take in the deep, cloud white sectional on the other side of the living room, looking far too big and far too empty. Louis narrows his eyes at it and scoffs. He pointedly turns his head, not bothering to look at it again.
"Show-off furniture," he mutters, curling deeper into the armchair.
At the very top floor of the sky rise sits their luxurious suite and its colorful, well-loved. It smells of clean linens and herbs, decorated with paintings of every size. They line each wall, splashes of color that has been handcrafted by Harry himself or by the artists Harry works with.
Harry.
With the rapidly darkening sky, Harry should be well on his way home by now, if not already here. Louis bottom lip juts out in thought, tired, puffy eyes lingering on the light from the small bit of sun left still casting in.
As a gallery owner and artist, Harry lives a busy lifestyle, one that leaves Louis asleep throughout the day, which—works, because like most half kitten-human hybrids, he needs a good fifteen hours of sleep a day.
Blinking his heavy eyelids again to clear the sleepiness, Louis lifts himself up on his elbows and the small bell on his thin, black collar rings softly at the motion. His ears twitch as the bell echoes throughout the empty apartment and he scans the room. A soft, confused mewl escapes when again all he's met with is the idle film still playing on the large flatscreen. His ears twitch again, listening for the sound of footsteps outside the front door, the routine beep of the keypad lock. Any second now. Any second—
Harry should be here by now.
"S'fine," he says, with a frown at the door.
With a disgruntled humph, he stretches out on the armchair, rolling onto his tummy. He buries his nose into the fabric and breathes in deep, the familiar smell placating his thumping heartbeat, settling into a calming thrum, and a soft, content purr vibrates in his throat. Harry's scent lingers, a slightly sweet, musky patchouli scent that's woven itself into the threads of the armchair over time.
He’s usually awaken by the scent crowding his nose and a gentle hand scratching behind his ears, and his frown deepens when he doesn’t feel it.
Louis’ purring stops abruptly and the room feels too big.
It’s not like Harry is late often; he knows how anxious he gets. And when Harry does work late, he always stops by midday to slip him one of those magical pills that eases the deep ache in his chest. He hates that he needs them and how the bitter taste lingers on his tongue. He hates the way they make the edges of the world go soft and cottony, the way they dull the pull in his chest until he can't really feel anything at all.
Louis’ breath hitches, catching in his throat.
What if he never ever comes back?
The thought cracks something open and he can't close it. The terrifying—what if, what if, what if’s circle in his head and his fingers twist into the sleeves of his brown zip-up.
Harry said he’d be back before dark today, right?
His ears twitch, and his mind feels fuzzy. He can’t seem to remember now. Did he?
Louis’ tail thumps once, hard against the cushions.
A loud noise from the television cuts through the silence and Louis’ whole body flinches. The sound rings sharp and it’s too noisy in his sensitive ears. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.
The sunlight from outside begins to dim, light fading fast as darkness starts to settle over the city. Louis’ stomach twists, and a small, helpless whimper cracks out of his throat.
He stares dumbly back at the door, eyes blurring.
Louis sits up now, anxious. The bell rings along his neck, and he worries his bottom lip back and forth between his front teeth. He tries to think clearly. A few deep breaths in and out to try to calm himself.
Phone.
Right—he has a phone. He doesn’t use it or even care to, but Harry’s murmured to him multiple times that it’s the only way he can get ahold of him while he’s out.
His feet hit cold tiles and he pads into the kitchen. Fingers pull at the ends of his brown fleece zip up and the material sits just long enough to fall along his upper thighs, black shorts hugging his bare skin underneath and peeking out just an inch longer.
The phone lies untouched on the counter, plugged into a charger. Chewing the side of his cheek, Louis picks it up and clicks it open. He stares at it for a long moment, sensitive eyes squinting at the bright screen and colorful icons. What icon was it again?
A strangled sound escapes when he struggles to remember, and his heartbeat picks up again.
But before starts to tap around on it, his enhanced hearing picks up the faint elevator ding from across the hallway outside.
Louis’ ears perk up, twitching. Footsteps near and stop right outside the front door, and he hears a familiar deep, honeyed voice humming a melody, and his whole body knows it before his mind catches up. The sharp, painful grasp on his chest unclenches.
The phone slips from his fingers and clinks against the kitchen floor. Louis doesn't even flinch, just winces once, nose scrunching, knowing full well he's just broken yet another one.
When the door opens, Louis doesn’t even look at his owner's face, just collapses into Harry’s body. His smaller arms wrap around Harry's stomach and he digs his head into his shoulder, an intense purr vibrating through them both. A soft mewl escapes his parted lips.
He stays like that for a moment and just breathes in.
“Harry,” he whimpers into the soft, white cashmere sweater he vaguely remembers Harry throwing on this morning after a morning of sleepy pecks and slow kissess. He smooshes his cheek against Harry's shoulder, rubbing slow, deliberate strokes to scent himself on his owner. His brown, sleek tail swishes behind him, curling protectively over Harry's frame.
It's only when he notices his body is shaking that he hasn't fully let go, even now, with Harry here in front of him, solid and warm beneath his hands. Louis’ grip tightens on him, delicate fingers curling into the cashmere fabric on Harry's back, and a small, involuntary sound escapes his throat.
Within seconds, a strong arm encompasses his waist and he's nestled in warmth. Harry nudges them both inside and shuts the door behind them with his foot and his work bag drops to the floor with a soft thud.
With his free hand, Harry cups the side of Louis' flushed cheek, gently pulling it away from his shoulder. Louis finally blinks up at him and warm, sea-moss green eyes stare back. Harry’s soft curls have come loose from the long day, falling over his forehead, and his brows pinch together as he scans Louis’ face.
Harry's jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek twitching. A small frown tugs at the corner of Harry's lips as his thumb strokes softly at his cheek.
“Oh, dove…hey," Harry croons low, thumb stroking softly at Louis' cheek. "Louis—baby. Look at me, I’m here.”
He preens, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and the kitten in him can't help but tilt his head into the touch innocently. He knows the effect, because Harry's green eyes dilate, gaze going soft with adoration. Louis purrs louder, and he watches Harry's hand tremble against his cheek from the force of it.
Harry’s other hand slides down, slow and deliberate, settling on Louis’ waist. He gives the squishy skin there a gentle squeeze, coaxing a soft laugh from him, before both his hands wander further. They stop and slide beneath the backs of Louis’ thighs and Harry pats there softly once with his palms.
Tucking a smile into the corner of his mouth he jumps, wrapping bare legs around Harry’s waist, arms threading up around his neck. His tail flicks happily behind him, and Harry holds his weight without effort.
It's unexplainable, involuntary; the way his mood shifts with Harry's. He spends much of his time at home, but Harry is his home.
His lips find Harry's neck and he presses soft kisses into the warm skin. One, two, then ten. His tongue darts out to kitten-lick at Harry's pulse point, where his scent clings strongest, and he can't help but nose at it, inhaling deep and letting the scent settle in his lungs. Harry's heartbeat thrums loud under him and Louis purrs at the sound.
Harry laughs, lifting a shoulder.
"Lou—hey, enough," Harry chuckles, though his hand is already betraying him, carding through Louis' hair and scratching behind his ear. Louis hums in response, the touch sending shivers down his spine making his tail quiver.
“Poor thing,” Harry tuts fondly, carrying them toward the kitchen. “Left on your own for eight whole hours and now you're touch starved.”
Louis just answers by rubbing his cheek against Harry’s cheek, then jaw, scenting him with deliberate intent. He sneaks in another kiss, pecking the line of soft stubble.
Harry groans under an exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. "You're impossible."
Louis grins wide, flashing his canines.
There’s the sound of a clack, and Louis watches Harry glance down curiously to see what he’d just kicked. Louis’ smile falters.
"Mm," Harry looks back up at him, then down again, lips twitching. "What does this make it…phone number four?"
“Five,” Louis says, shrugging.
Harry exhales a laugh and shifts his grip, hands sliding lower like he’s about to set him down on the kitchen counter. Once Louis realizes, he makes a sharp noise of protest, tightening his legs around Harry's hips and locking his arms around his neck.
"No," Louis declares, tail lashing once behind him.
"Louis…" Harry warns, shaking his head. "Baby, what did you eat?"
Louis gives him a slow, blank blink, flicking his tail. He purrs deeper, louder, doing his best to lull Harry into stillness, to make him give up and just take them both back to the couch for the cuddle Louis has been craving, aching for all afternoon. He thinks it's working when Harry hums, low and soft against his ear—
Until a sharp pinch lands on his ass.
“Ow—what the hell?” Louis snaps, nose twitching as he squirms in Harry’s arms.
Harry’s mouth curves, satisfied. He hikes Louis up, jostling the tangled mess of limbs clinging to him. Louis huffs with an eye roll, tail flicking in agitation. If he doesn’t answer, Harry’s going to pry it out of him anyway.
“That,” Harry says, “wasn’t an answer.”
“Didn’t,” Louis mutters, ducking his face back into the crook of Harry's shoulder. "Didn’t eat. Wasn't hungry."
A hand comes up underneath his sweater to rub a slow, steady stroke along his spine.
"Mm," Harry says, "that solves it, then." There’s a pause, and Louis hears the smile in Harry's voice. "Someone needs to cook. As much as I love holding you, I can't risk us both catching on fire with you glued to me like this."
Louis juts his bottom lip in a pout, ears flattening slightly, but relents with a small nod. When Harry gently sets him down, the countertop cold beneath his thighs, and he scrunches his nose with a soft wince. Harry immediately coos an apology before turning toward the stove.
"Still not hungry," Louis mutters, bringing a fluffy sleeve up to his mouth and rubbing it against his chin as he watches Harry move around the kitchen. His eyes track every motion with feline focus, tail swishing behind him in soft ticks, ears twitching. "And 'm feeling extra picky today."
“Don’t I know it.” Harry opens their stainless-steel fridge and setting a few ingredients on the counter by the stove. “That’s not a today thing, baby, that’s an everyday thing.” He glances over his shoulder. “That's why I'm cooking something I know you can't resist.”
Louis’ ears twitch with interest and he quirks a brow. He watches with crossed arms as Harry cooks in the soothing, practiced rhythm he always falls into, and as the scent slowly blooms throughout the kitchen, causing Louis’ mouth to water.
He won’t deny it, his human is a really, really good cook.
When there's a lull in the cooking, Harry steps closer and his hands fall on Louis knees. He gently pries them apart with his palms and Louis smiles softly, wrapping him in closer with his swooshing tail.
With Harry settled between his thighs, Louis rests a hand against his cheek and leans in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. His tail flickers softly, the kiss lingering, and a purr rumbles his chest. When he starts to pull back, Harry catches him, fingers hooking lightly under his collar.
Louis' brows pinch, curious, as he watches Harry's attention drop to the collar around his neck. Harry thumbs over the metal name tag and the small bell attached. His head tilts slightly, lolling onto his shoulder and he jutts his chin up just a little higher.
"It's okay," Louis whispers, "I like—"
Harry hums thoughtfully, cutting him off, and gently thumbs the bell. The jingle rings and fills the space between them, and Harry's green eyes lift to meet his, warm.
"My sweet, angel bellboy."
The words curl tight around Louis' heart and his purr stutters. Suddenly he's painfully aware of everything all at once: the weight of the collar around his neck, the bell resting against his pulse, what it means. Harry’s hands, Harry’s eyes, Harry’s love, everything Harry, Harry, Harry.
Louis melts into it, his shoulders slumping forward. The last bit of tension drains away, and his eyes fall shut. His body leans forward on instinct, chasing the warmth in Harry's voice.
A hand slips beneath Louis' chin to tilt his face back up and he blinks back slowly, heavy-lidded and a little dazed. Harry studies him for a moment before he leans in, but the kiss doesn't land on his lips, it brushes softly against his name tag first, then the bell at his throat. It’s featherlight, reverent and Harry's eyes on his never break. It feels like worship. Harry doesn’t see him as something lower, but something equal.
Louis shakes, and his tail twitches hard, vibrating. The slow warmth flooding through his limbs has his purr ramping up, rattling straight through his ribs until he's nearly buzzing on the countertop. He's dizzy, a little drunk on the attention and the unbearable knowledge that he's safe, wanted, and adored by the man he loves so deeply it aches.
Louis reaches out, grabbing Harry's jaw, and pulls him in. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and Louis pours all the words that don't exist into it.
ᥫ᭡
Dinner leaves Louis pleasantly warm and his eyelids droop despite his best effort to stay awake. He's tucked between Harry's thighs on the sectional, stomach resting against Harry's as their heartbeats match each others pace. Harry's hands have slipped under Louis' fleece zip up, rubbing slow circles into his back. The apartment is quiet now, no television or city noise bleeding through the glass, just the low hum of the lights and the steady, familiar sound of Harry breathing behind him.
Louis is purring, palms resting on the arms of Harry’s cashmere sweater, gently kneading into the soft fabric and the faint muscle beneath.
Harry’s chin tips forward to rest against the top of Louis' head.
"Sleepy?" he murmurs.
Louis makes a tiny noise of protest but immediately he gives himself away when it catches on a yawn, ears flicking softly. He nestles further into Harry's body, tail swishing lazily before curling around Harry's thigh.
"Mmm. Missed you," he mumbles against the soft skin of Harry's collarbone.
Harry's arms tighten around him. A hand slips beneath the hem of Louis' sweater to rest flat against his back, thumb brushing slow, soothing arcs. A kiss is pressed into Louis' hair and Harry’s scent curls between them. Louis breathes it in, and it's now threaded with Louis' own scent. Pleased purring ramps up at the smell of himself on his human and he shifts up against Harry's body slightly, cheek pushed up against the warmth of Harry's neck now, eyes fluttering closed.
He feels Harry smile press into his hair and Louis hums softly, purring tapering quieter, heavier. His tail tightens just a touch where it's curled around Harry's thigh.
“M’not asleep,” Louis mumbles, voice thick and words swirling together.
Harry huffs a quiet laugh.
Louis' ear twitches in offense, but his body feels like honey. His grip slackens with Harry's heartbeat thruming steady beneath his ear. Within seconds, he's dreaming, tucked safe in the warmth of Harry.