Young & Beautiful

“Correct again.”
There’s a pause as Harry’s brow furrows as he inspects Louis’ face. "Did you need help with
something, or…?”
Louis sighs, shaking his head as he makes his way over to Harry, plopping himself down beside
him on the piano bench. Harry blinks, startled, sliding down the bench marginally, eying up Louis
with almost-alarm.
“Jesus, Curly. I don’t have hidden agendas, you know. Ever consider that I just might want to be
influencing you in good ways? After that travesty of an obsession—strawberries in November?
Honestly?—you can’t really blame me for wanting to aid a helpless soul, can you. So here I am,
willing test subjects at the wait, ready to change your life.”
“Change my life, you say,” Harry now smirks, shoulders already relaxing, and his hands settle
back on the piano keys, already resuming their tapping out of a chipper tune.
“Yes, sir. Now. Try them,” Louis instructs, plucking them out of their tray and holding them out
to Harry expectantly.
Upon Louis’ movement, Harry grins—full out, properly grins and it’s so large and toothy that it
almost looks painful and definitely feels painful when it hits Louis’ chest and vital organs—and
turns to face him, immediately smacking his hands over his eyes, lips quirked and goofy.
And Louis blinks.
Because what the fuck is Harry doing?
“Er. Any reason you’re covering your eyes?” Louis asks, still holding the two cups and attempting
to assess the situation.
“It’s a taste test. You’re not supposed to see what you’re tasting,” Harry explains languidly, words
curled into his smile, and leaves it at that, his palms pressed into his eye sockets, the large sleeves
of his jumper sliding down his slender arms.
And Louis continues to stare.
“You do realize they’re in identical cups, right? And you have no idea what’s in either one? So
you technically can’t see them anyway?”
“They’ve got labels on them. With detailed descriptions,” Harry explains, and Louis glances at the
barely visible stickers tucked under the coffee sleeves that read ‘Vt Ging Latte’ and ‘Vt Egg
Latte’. Hardly descriptive, but. Whatever floats his boat.
“Right then,” he says, refusing to smile at Harry’s childlike pose and demeanor, instead offering
the cup in his right hand to Harry’s awaiting lips. This is already going better than he anticipated.
Slowly he tips it forward, Harry’s head leaning back, and he slurps a tiny taste of the gingerbread
latte. His face immediately scrunches.
“No,” is all he says, before turning to sniff at the other one.
“Alrighty then,” Louis chuckles, now tipping the left cup against Harry’s lips.
Another slurp is heard and then a small, satisfied smile forms on Harry.