"Can you give me a hard-on, curly?"

Louis says boldly as he walks through the door at eleven at night, a novel in his hand. His eyes widen when he spots a woman behind the counter instead of Harry. She glares at him with narrowed eyes for a solid, silent minute as Louis stands in the doorway, flustered under her attention.

"I found the cups! You can go now."

Harry walks in from the back room, arms full of pink and white striped shake cups, that block his view of seeing Louis.

"This man wants you to give him a hard-on."

She says montoniously and Harry stumbles over his own feet, dropping the cups on the floor behind the counter. The blue haired woman strips her apron off, grabs her bag and walks out, leaving a blushing Harry to his mess.

"Fuck."

Louis mutters and rushes behind the counter to help Harry pick them up. Harry gets on his knees, pushing cups into one another. Louis does the same, quickly helping the boy.

"Are you okay?"

Louis asks, sensing Harry may be upset by the way he avoids eye contact.

"I am so clumsy."

Harry mutters sadly.

"I like it. It is cute."

Harry lifts his eyes to Louis, who then stands up and offers a hand to the slightly taller. He helps Harry up and grabs the cups off of him, placing them on the red counter.

"Thank you..."

"Anytime."

They smile at each other before Louis' fond smile turns cheeky.

"I really would love that hard-on, though."