Boss Bitch || Mafia!Larry || 1 ||

|| 38 ||

"Fuck", Harry cursed desperately, lowered the machine gun for a moment. That had always been his slight weakness. He didn't know what the problem was, but he did something wrong. He could aim, otherwise he would have been just as bad in the other things concerning weapons. But something about those stupid machines made sure that he never hit perfectly. In his training he had managed to make up for this with his other achievements and had practiced so much until it was okay. But he hadn't had a machine gun in his hand for ages. He shouldn't have neglected his training. But what should he have done; while they had gone from Paris to Berlin on the train doing some shooting practice?

Next to him he heard Quen chuckling, but she didn't bother to help him, she went one station further... which was the end. Stupid cow. She sighed and drank something from her water bottle. But honestly, Harry was no baby, he would just practice until he could do it. Which apparently wouldn't be until tomorrow, because he kept trying, but apart from a few chance hits he scored less than satisfactory hits; a death to his perfectionism.

"For fucking sake", he cursed softly as he took aim again, cursing this stupid invention. But before he could say a prayer in his head again, a hand lay softly on Harry's right elbow. He looked behind him, but didn't change his position, saw Louis looking at the target.

"You're not putting enough counterforce", he just said, and Harry frowned a little. Louis looked at him, into his eyes, before he pressed a bit against Harry's elbow.

"When you pull the trigger, you get too much traction with the gun, you have to work harder against it. Aim again; that was not the problem"

Still a little bit surprised if this could really be the reason, Harry put himself a bit more in shooting position. He noticed how Louis looked past his left arm to the target, as he was smaller and therefore couldn't look over his shoulder. He put his left arm around Harry, put it on Harry's left hand, which was holding the machine, and reached around it more strongly.

"Try not to change anything here", he instructed, almost clasping Harry, because his right hand was still on the right elbow of the taller one.

"Shoot"

Harry pulled the trigger on that command, felt Louis' hand pressing against Harry's right elbow, preventing him from swerving backwards. His left hand also exerted pressure when the hand of the taller one tried to give way by the force of the machine. Stunned, Harry lowered his gun when he saw that he had indeed scored. Louis broke away from Harry and stood a little beside him. Satisfied, he looked at the target, then saw Harry look at him stunned. He shrugged his shoulders, grinning.

"I told you the problem wasn't the aiming. You just have to lean forward a little more and work against the force of the machine's pressure, then the line of fire of the bullet will not change"

Harry had to smile and Louis did the same, looked away.

"So don't be a pushover, what do you have these muscles for?"

Harry had to chuckle at the remark, bought himself in position again, tense up a bit so he wouldn't give in. Louis looked at his biceps, which were tense and visible through the skin-tight suit, stroked them a little as he began to pass behind him.

"I don't apologize on principle, but maybe that's enough, Mr. Styles"

And with that, he left Harry. This one pressed his lips together so he wouldn't smile like a complete idiot. Because yes, Louis never apologized, had apologized once in the parking garage for the next times he would be unprofessional, but... it wasn't his job either to help Harry improve his gun skills and give him tips. This was his way of apologizing. And Harry preferred this to a verbal apology. Actions speak louder than words.