You Run My Mind
You Run My Mind
Liam/Louis | PG-13 | 1359 words
A/N: For this prompt: "girl!Liam/girl!Louis, Louis lures Liam back in bed after her morning run." Both Liam and Louis are cis!girls. Title from Forrest Gump by Frank Ocean. [AO3]
Liam wakes up at seven with her knees tangled in the sheets and the rest of her covered in goosebumps. On the other side of the bed, Louis is snuffling in her sleep, resettling, and Liam blinks at the ceiling for a minute before sitting up, careful. She's gotten good at this, being able to leave their bed without disturbing Lou, and she takes not a little pride in it. She trips over Louis' shoes- why they're on the floor on Liam's side of the bed, no one could say, least of all the culprit. Liam huffs and kicks the docksiders under the bed, hits the off on her alarm clock before it can ruin all her efforts to not wake Louis. In the bathroom, she shimmies into yesterday's gym shorts and grabs her pink bra off the towel rack. It's hard to make the snaps work with sleepy fingers, but she gets it eventually, and grabs Louis' tank top off their dresser on her way to the door. It's rainy and gray outside, but Liam likes the slight squelching sound of her trainers against the jogging path away from their complex.
Louis isn't particularly fond of waking up alone. She can tell when Liam's gone, not only because she knows Liam's schedule- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, at seven sharp- but because the room feels different; Lou has trouble explaining it, but it's colder, somewhat. She cracks an eye open, squinting into the dim light creeping through the blinds, and swings an arm out to Liam's side of the bed to confirm her suspicions. Liam is a relentless morning person, has an enigmatic way of just loving the world as soon as she opens her eyes, whereas it's a trying game for Louis, even after her morning cuppa. She sits up and groans, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She won't dare look at the clock, wary of the terrible suspicion that Liam might've left mere minutes ago.
Kicking the covers off, Louis swings her legs over the edge of the bed and rolls her shoulders. She pulls her hair into a bun, feathered strands sticking out, her fringe haphazardly pushed to the side, and stands on sleep-heavy legs. She pads over to the kitchen, stretches her arms up over her head, feline, and puts on the kettle. Least she can do for Liam, she figures, is fix her tea- Liam's well aware that Lou doesn't cook, not by choice but for the safety of the general population, but tea is simple enough. Besides, Louis can take her mug back to bed, which is a deliciously enticing plan.
It's just past eight when Liam stumbles back through their apartment door, fumbling the key in the lock as always, and surprised to see the lights on in the kitchen, and a warm glow spills out of the bedroom around the half-closed door. There's a cup on the counter, too, and Liam leans into the cabinet as she picks it up, legs a little shaky. The tea is mostly cold, but it's still good, goes down easy after breathing heavily in the wet morning air. She finishes half the cup and then heads for the bedroom, peering around the doorjamb to find Louis propped up and watching something on the telly, volume low.
Louis makes grabby hands at Liam immediately, legs wriggling happily under the covers. "You're back, hello, it's dreary out, I was deathly worried you'd be struck by lightning," she babbles, awake and caffeinated enough by now that the words spill out. She likes Liam like this, flushed across her cheeks and down to her chest, hair pulled into a high pony and out of her eyes, her skin warm and glistening, and she'd like to touch, too.
Liam can't help smiling, it's contagious when she's around Louis, like the other girl just drags it out of her without even trying. "Hi, Lou." She toes off her sneakers on her way over to give Louis a kiss on the forehead. "Thanks for the tea, babe." Louis looks sleep-rumpled but awake, hair pulled back messily, and Liam, now that she's smiling, lips pulling painfully wide, can't stop.
"You're awfully cheery," Louis points out, pressing her lips into a straight line. It's hard to remain stoic when she tries to sass Liam; something about her boundless happiness and the way it's so evident in Liam's crinkly eyes and round cheeks makes Louis huff and break, smiling down at the bedspread. "C'mere," she says, looking up through her lashes and tugging Liam's hand.
"I'm all gross," Liam doesn't-protest, and she lets Louis draw her in close, knees bumping the mattress. She twines their fingers together easily, rubs her thumb along the veins across the back of Louis' tiny hand. "Need t'shower, Lou."
Louis has different plans.
"No, you need to come sit on my lap," she explains, curling her fingers around Liam's. She illustrates her point with a sharp tug that makes Liam nearly stumble onto the bed, and ignores the way Liam doesn't curse under her breath, despite how much of a brat Louis is acting. "Come on, Liam," she insists, sticking her bottom lip out.
Liam's already half on the mattress by then, Louis' fingers in a death grip around her wrist, and it's just easier, with Louis, to give in. "On your lap," she echoes, nudging at the sheets to make sure she won't be crawling onto Louis' knees accidentally- when she's sure it's safe, she settles onto the bed, straddling Lou's thigh. "What do you want from me?"
The question doesn't take Louis by surprise. Liam likes order and plans, is wary of surprises and the spontaneity that rules over Louis' actions. Even so, they seem to work together in constant compromise, held together by their wordless concessions.
"I want you to kiss me," Louis tells her, just enough information, just true enough.
"I can do that," Liam smiles, smaller this time but no less adoring- Louis is soft and warm, this close, eyes bright for this early, laugh-lines gathered around the edges, her eyelashes dark smudges against her cheeks when she looks down at their clasped hands. Settling further into Louis' lap feels like finally coming home, and Liam shakes off the memory of the jogging path and foggy overcast skies, lets herself go into this moment, this bit of Louis that she gets to have all to herself.
Kissing Liam is quite possibly Louis' favorite thing to do. Liam's kisses are simultaneously gentle and eager, like she wants to hold back and give everything she has to Louis all in one sweep of her tongue. Louis brings her hands up to Liam's cheeks- warmth seeping through her skin, as predicted- and sweeps her thumbs carefully over Liam's fanned eyelashes.
Liam can feel herself turning pink under Louis' attention, can feel her stomach twisting with that crazy rush of affection that always catches her a little off-guard, no matter how many times it happens. Louis tastes like slightly bitter tea, just a hint of her favorite flavor behind her teeth, and Liam searches it out, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
It's a welcome strategy, and Louis hums her approval into Liam's mouth, dropping a hand to Liam's waist. Louis isn't a morning person, and Liam knows it, but it's the little things they share that make it so much easier to wake up. Even when Liam isn't there from the very moment when Louis opens her eyes, sometimes, she always makes up for it- they work well together that way, unlikely companions, compromising in favor of easy mornings and lukewarm cups of tea.
Liam gets both hands into Louis' hair and sighs into the kiss, and somehow doesn't think either of them will be going back to bed.