Work Text:
It started as a normal day for Louis Tomlinson: get up at 5am, fitness work for an hour, some healthy breakfast before dashing out to Old Trafford where he would train for hours on end each day, building up his technique and stamina for that game on the weekend. But today something was different, right from the moment he dumped his bag in the change room, complete with it's personalised lockers and hot tub.
Today the team was getting a new head coach. It had been all over the new for the past few weeks; it was almost impossible to avoid. Headlines such as 'Iconic Football Team Left by Main Support' and 'Manchester United; What Happens Now?' graced newspapers and current affairs shows. It wasn't every day the world's most loved football team got a new head coach just out of the blue like that.
Louis laced up his boots, shrugged off his polar-fleece jacket and pulled on fingerless gloves before sauntering out onto the field alongside his team mate Liam Payne, a fine defender. Most of the team was already there, crowded in a semi-circular crescent facing away from Louis and Liam. The two shared nervous glances before walking over to the group.
Louis pulled Liam along, skirting the group until they found a gap next to their friend, and the team's main goal keeper, Zayn Malik. "Morning, boys; met the coach yet?" the Bradford native greeted, cocking his head to the side at the end. Louis and Liam both looked towards the centre of the crescent of people, and Louis was ready to collapse, his knees had gone weak and the breath was taken from his chest.
Standing before his was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen. A young man stood facing the team, grinning a dimpled smile as he stood casually, hands pocketed and back slouched slightly. He was absolutely perfect: the way dark chocolate curls fell across his pale forehead until he swept them across every few minutes, his jade irises Louis could stare into forever, his luscious pink lips, so plump and kissable. Louis had no problem with his sexuality; he was bisexual and proud, not that he had actually been allowed to tell the world.
"'Morning lads," the coach smirked that cheeky one sided smile, as though he knew the effect his deep, husky voice was having on Louis. "My name's Harry Styles, and I'm your new coach," he continued, rocking back and forth almost nervously on his heels and toes. "I would go around the group and get you to introduce yourselves, but I think that's a little below your level so I think I'll just come around and talk to you while we do some drills, okay?"
There was collective nodding around the group along with a hushed sea of murmuring, and Louis and Zayn shared a glance; they absolutely hated drills, especially early in the morning when they couldn't concentrate for llong enough. The three, Louis, Liam and Zayn, trudged out towards a station set up with mini hurdles and, along with a few other team members, began running through the exercise.
They rotated through a few warm-up stations, each time Louis would end up getting distracted by that damn sexy coach and completely muck up the exercise. But the way he moved was just so fluid, so natural and well rehearsed, and the way his muscles flexed under those pants as he ran with the players; it made Louis' mouth water.
"Louis? Louis!" the Doncaster lad heard his name being called by a familiar accent as the group moved to the final part of the warm-up.
"W-what Liam?" Louis shook his head, attempting to rid himself of those thoughts as he grabbed a water bottle from Niall, the coach's assistant.
"The coach is coming over, so start practising," Liam hissed under his breath before thanking Niall and jogging away, just as Harry strode towards the final group. Louis found himself stuck to the ground, he couldn't move even if he wanted to.
"Hi," Harry stopped for a moment, his bright eyes squinting for just a moment as he tried to remember this player's name, "Louis Tomlinson?" he guessed, and let out a relieved sigh when the older lad chuckled and nodded his head.
"That's me," Louis chuckled, somehow finally managing to find his vocabulary again, even in the coach's presence. "I play midfield," Louis added and, in the moment of silence that ensued, the others in the team jogged over, relieving the stress of conversing from Louis' shoulders.
*
In the passing weeks Louis grew even more fond of the new coach. The pair were often slightly more than friendly during training and games, and the rest of the team envied the close relationship between the coach and the star midfielder. Louis, although often distracted by Harry's glinting smile or unruly curls, found himself playing better each week under the coaches tuition.
One dreary Monday, when clouds hung low and dull silver over lit streets, and rain drizzled in ribbons every so often, Louis found himself caught up in the change rooms after everyone else had left. He picked up his bag, ready to leave, when footsteps were suddenly audible in the hallway. But it wasn't the scattered shoes of a tour group, it was most definitely only one person, strolling briskly towards where Louis currently stood.
Not bothering to wait for whoever it was, Louis turned from the change room and into the hall, only to run slap-bang into whoever was walking the other way.
Finding himself lying on top of something rather soft, Louis opened his eyes, that had been shut from impact, and found himself staring into surprised jade irises that couldn't choose between green and hazel. Louis had landed on top of Harry, not ten centimetres from the young coach's face. Both young men were breathless, neither willing to admit that he was actually enjoying being this intimate with the other, but feeling it in their hearts. Louis was the first to move, rosy pink rushing to his cheeks as he scrambled to stand from his awkward position. But Louis found himself victim of the situation, as Harry's rather large and warm hand cupped Louis' cheek, bringing their eyes to meet once again, and gradually grow closer.
The feeling of their lips against each other was phenomenal; it was like nothing either man had experienced before. They savoured the taste of each other's lips; Harry's were a metropolitan coffee and caramel, while Louis' were wild like Spring flowers and something else that was entirely unique to the boy lying atop Harry. The kiss was nothing sexual or rough, rather it was sensual, both boys adjusting to the other.
After what felt like an eternity, nature called, and the boys were forced to separate for breath, and their eyes bore into one another's as they exhaled in synchronised breaths. They soon realised where they lay, Louis now fully atop Harry, not holding any weight off as his fingers pulled through te coach's curly locks. Harry was now holding Louis securely, one arm wrapped around the football player's waist while the other currently swept a wave of hair from his own forehead.
"Wow," Harry breathed, still shaken from the motion his body had almost instinctively made. He now fully realised what he had been feeling the past few weeks every time he arrived at Old Trafford: he needed Louis. He just hoped Louis felt the same way, but he already had a feeling the older bloke did.
"Yeah..." Louis replied quietly, not really knowing what to do now. "Um, do you want to, um..." he trailed off, slowly pushing himself to his feet before holding out a hand to pull Harry up. The sparks were undeniable as their fingertips touched, and it showed in both their faces. Both lads were standing now, Harry just that little bit taller than Louis, and they stood intimately close.
"We should probably get out of here," Harry mused, grabbing Louis' hand gently and tugging the shorter man silently from the hallway. The pair jogged down the hall, their bags swishing against their hips was the only noise apart form the occasional squeak from their trainers on the linoleum.
Neither lad was at all puffed when they arrived in the fresh air, both being sportspeople with at least reasonable stamina. The day was still dreary, but now there was a little more sunshine peeking through the cloud cover, illuminating both men's faces as they strolled, still hand in hand, to where Harry's Audi R8 was parked. "Would you care to join me for lunch, Mr Tomlinson?" Harry put on a posh accent, holding open the passenger side door for Louis, who chuckled and stepped in willingly.
"Of course, Mr Styles." Harry got in the driver's side, revved the V8 engine, and with that, the two boys were off down the road, and into a relationship that would last a life time.