Edinburgh is for Lovers (l.s.)

xxviii.

Harry and Louis spent the morning of Christmas Eve and Louis' birthday snuggled together on the couch. Harry had made a full English breakfast for them and they'd snuggled together under the covers watching the snow fall outside, Christmas music on the record player as they ate.

By mid afternoon, Louis was laying on the couch with his head in Harry's lap as Harry read aloud to him from a book of Seamus Heaney poems that he'd had on his bookshelf. Harry had been sat on the floor while Louis flipped the vinyl, looking at the collection of books on Louis' small shelf. He picked the Seamus Heaney book from the shelf and pulled Louis into his lap when they reached the sofa again. He'd read over a dozen poems before Louis had fallen asleep, his head resting on Harry's thigh.
Harry looked at the time on his watch, noticing the shadows on the wall growing longer and more blue as the sun began to set. He'd kept reading out loud even though Louis was asleep, enjoying the way the words rolled off his tongue in delicate whispers as he brushed his finger tips through Louis' hair. He'd decided he'd wake Louis when he could no longer see the words on the page in the darkness of the living room. Words spilled from his tongue, and nearly an hour passed before it was too dark to read, and he couldn't reach the lamp without disturbing Louis.
Harry tucked down the corner of the page and shut the book, setting it on the coffee table next to their empty tea mugs. He looked down at Louis fondly, tucking a piece of fringe behind his ear.

"Louis." he whispered.
The first word not belonging to the book of poems he'd spoken in hours, and yet it sounded just as  beautiful.
"Darling, Louis." Harry gently nudged his shoulder.

"Mm." Louis murmured against his thigh before rolling over and looking up at Harry with sleepy eyes.
"Ha--" his whisper turned to a yawn mid word.
"Harry." he laughed softly.

Harry chuckled and brushed his thumb over Louis' cheek. "Hi, love. It's getting time to start supper."

"It's dark." Louis observed. "What time is it?"

"Nearly five. I can cook since it's your birthday, you can stay here and cuddle?"

"I want to help. You've spoiled me enough today." Louis joked and pushed himself to sit up between Harry's legs.

"Never enough." Harry kissed his forehead. "But alright. Birthday dinner?"

Louis stood from the couch and helped Harry up.
"Birthday dinner. Bit untraditional to have cheese toasties and soup on Christmas Eve though. Don't people normally do a roast?"

"I suppose so." Harry commented. "So are we though, just tomorrow."

Harry trailed behind Louis on the way to the kitchen, keeping his fingers tucked into the hem of his jumper. When they got to the kitchen, Harry turned Louis so his back was against the counter and leaned in to press their lips together. Louis melted into the kiss and let out a surprised screech when Harry picked him up by his waist and set his bum on the counter. Louis spread his legs and Harry moved between them, cupping Louis' jaw with one hand and pulling him in for another kiss.

"Mm. Can we cook like this?" Louis laughed.

Harry rolled his eyes with a fond smile and kissed the tip of Louis' nose.
"You can sit there, I'll make toasties and soup, and I'll come kiss you while everything cooks."

"Deal. Birthday supper is officially my favourite."

Harry laughed as he gathered all the ingredients from the fridge and set them on the counter. He poured Louis a glass of wine to sip while he cooked.
With a plate of toasties and two bowls of soup ready on the counter, Harry slipped between Louis' legs and kissed him again before helping him down.
They carried the food to the couch and Harry lit all the candles before flicking out the kitchen light.