La Reine; larry stylinson (bottom!louis top!harry)

7. Daddy.

Just as Harry is about to enter the interview room, a guard waltzes in and announces a request from Harry's boss. Minutes later, he's watching heavy shackles being locked on to Louis' handcuffs and ankles, restricting him to the table and the floor. The guard walks over to him and holds out the keys. "Don't let him get these, alright?" He thanks the guard and tries to regain his confidence. Harry stuffs the keys into his pocket and straightens his clothes. The second the door clicks shut, Harry puts on a hard expression. Harry's shoes click off the linoleum, he clenches his teeth and carefully sits in the metal chair before La Reine, the folder grasped tightly in his hands.

"Kitten, what time is it?" Louis' voice rings out softly, his eyes still shut and head tilted back.

Harry's eye twitches at the nickname. He checks his watch. "It's nearly eight."

"Is it raining outside?" The Donna inquires, stretching slightly.

Harry's eyes drift to the clear skin of the mafia Donna's neck. "Uh," he watches Louis gulp. "Yeah, it is."

"Do you like the rain?" His tone was airy yet intimidating.

Harry opens and closes his mouth several times. "Well, I can't say I hate it."

"And, you can't say you love it either." Louis finally sits up, his eyes immediately trained on the agent's face. "That's exactly how I feel about this." His stiletto nails gesture between himself and Harry.

Harry stiffens, he would rather not talk about anything other than La Reine, even if he be in the equation as well. He knew where the man was planning on steering the conversation, and it ends with Harry being called into his boss' office and leaving the building with no job.

"Let's get to know each other," Harry suggests. "I'm Harry."

"You are aware I already know that, yes?" A hint of his French accent is audible.

Harry clears his throat, he's willing to do anything in his power to get a confession out of La Reine—as long as it means he'll be out of the room the moment after. "Your name is Louis."

For a split second, La Reine is caught off guard. His blue eyes waver between Harry's face and his hands clad in shiny rings. "Are we on first name basis?"

"Would you like to be?" Harry wants him to keep talking, taking up time and eventually, Harry will be called out of the room for not making any progress or La Reine will slip up which is less than likely.

"If you want answers, don't reply with questions." Louis tuts softly. "I'm smarter than you think, Agent."

"That's wrong." Harry tries to keep the conversation going. "I think you're very clever."

"Flattery won't get you far, Mr. Styles." The Donna chuckles softly. "How about we make a deal?"

The green-eyed man looks at the two-way mirror, his eyes begging Liam or the other agent for help, but none arrives. He sets his eyes on Louis, the latter with a small smirk on his pink lips. "Okay," Harry agrees. "What's the deal?"

"You unlock my cuffs," Louis lifts his arms, gesturing to the glimmering silver around his wrists, "and I do whatever you want." His gaze drifts to Harry's torso, his button up fitting him nicely.

"No." Is Harry's first reply. Then, he thinks it over.

La Reine was defenseless, though Harry is aware of his skill and manipulation. If anything went wrong, Harry had a gun on his belt and two other agents behind a sheet of glass. He takes one last look from Louis' wide eyes and parted lips to his delicate wrists, but something goes over Harry, and he stands his ground. "No."