Chapter Text
Harry wasn’t sure exactly what he was waiting for – or who, more like – but assumed he’d know when he found it. And it really wasn’t that difficult to keep all of his firsts to himself, because really, everyone thought he was weird.
Apparently, when you’re almost sixteen and you haven’t even held hands with a boy you like, girls (and guy mates you haven’t grown up with) think you’re really freaking weird. Harry didn’t mind. It kept a good amount of uncomfortable people away.
Of course, there were some times Harry was so sexually frustrated, and it’s not like he was stupid, he knew all about sex and everything – he had friends who’d done it. But sometimes Harry just wanted to go up to the next guy he saw and hold his hand and hug him and kiss him all over and then have every kind of sex with him, just because. Sometimes, Harry felt left out when Niall would talk to him and their mates about the things he’d done over the weekend. Of course, half the time, Niall was story-telling just to make his older brother, Greg, and Greg’s friends think he wasn’t some loser. Niall had only had sex once.
Harry often felt better around Liam. Even though Liam had sex a lot, with Danielle – they’d started having sex some months ago – Liam was really just a respectable boy. Sure, sometimes he talked about it, if he was directly asked by Harry or Niall or Andy, but really, Liam didn’t like to objectify or disrespect Dani like that. It made Harry feel better, for some weird reason.
That’s why Liam was the first person to know about Louis Tomlinson.
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Louis Tomlinson was seventeen, and went to the same school Harry had, but was only one year above him because he was out partying too much and had failed his exams the year before. Harry had known about Louis’ reputation – everyone did – but never really paid much attention; it wasn’t as if Harry was ever going to be affected by Louis’ partying. All he knew was Louis’ reputation and the fact that Louis was a stone-cold fit young man – one who Harry frequently fantasized about during his dirtier self-sexy-times. He didn’t see any harm in fantasizing every once in a while. It wasn’t as if Harry would ever even talk to Louis – they were in different circles (Louis’ circle being a very popular one and Harry’s circle consisting of Liam, Niall, and sometimes Liam’s mate Andy).
Except Harry had been promoted to the varsity football team. Of which, Louis was the center forward.
On Harry’s first day of varsity football practice, Louis was to take Harry, who was a right forward, and a transfer student, also a right forward, out to the second football field along with Stan Lucas, varsity’s left forward and one of Louis Tomlinson’s best friends to practice the drills and plays. Stan was pretty patient, breaking the plays down easily for Harry and struggling a little with the language barrier (he clearly was not ready for an English-speaking school, Harry had decided already), but Louis stood around, handling the ball around and staring at Harry, who was too busy trying to focus on Stan’s lessons to stare back, even though he wanted to.
There was something different about Louis, and Harry’s mind sarcastically argued back, of course – he’s trouble, supid!. Well, then. Harry nodded to himself and forced himself to run faster, control his kicks more, to pass straighter, to dribble with more agility. He noticed Stan sizing him up with approval, until the transfer student, whose name was still unpronounceable to the other three, started his own drills, having watched Stan and Harry go through them twice without him.
Harry watched with a feeling of disappointment as the transfer kid was just that tiny bit better than him. He realized with dread that he wasn’t going to get much playing time behind this kid.
He grabbed his own ball and looked to Louis, as Stan was clearly occupied with the transfer kid, and raised his eyebrows, holding up his football. Louis nodded and opened his hands, and Harry tossed the ball to him and followed when Louis turned and walked all the way to the other goal on the field.
“Harry, isn’t it?” Louis asked, and Harry nodded, trying to hide the sudden shyness he was feeling.
“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis continued. “But you can pretty much call me whatever, so long as it isn’t offensive. Got it?”
Harry nodded again, and Louis huffed impatiently. Harry realized he had been talking freely with Stan and it was probably irritating Louis that Harry wasn’t talking to him. Harry swallowed. “Got it,” he answered a little quietly.
“Also, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” Louis said firmly but kindly. “I’m not going to like…bite you or anything. Unless you’re into that,” he added with a playful wink. Harry blushed scarlet and fumbled a bit on his dribble, which let Louis easily flick the ball back in between his own legs. “What is it?” Louis asked, teasing a bit. “You act like you’ve never messed around! Haven’t you got your dick wet by now?”
Harry blushed even darker and tensed up, sensing this conversation was going downhill. Louis stopped jogging in circles around him and hesitantly touched Harry’s shoulder. “Shit, I’m sorry mate. You haven’t like, got any sex-disease or anything, have you?”
At this, Harry literally burst out laughing, although he felt bad because he could hear the genuine concern and regret in Louis’ voice. “That’s rich,” Harry laughed, arms folded over his stomach. Louis just stared, and Harry sobered up a little, feeling self-conscious. “It’s just – no, I haven’t – I meant. I don't have any...disease. Sorry. You didn’t…offend me or anything.”
Relief flooded Louis’ face, and Harry had to mentally convince himself it wasn’t because Louis cared about Harry’s feelings, that it was because he didn’t want awkwardness on his team. He looked upfield for a distraction while he convinced himself and instantly regretted it: Stan and the transfer kid were running around, passing the ball like they’d been training together their whole lives.
Louis interrupted Harry’s momentary wallowing with a hand to his shoulder. “I can make you better than him,” Louis offered.
Harry turned and looked at Louis, thinking hard. “Yeah? How?”
Louis’ face stayed serious. “There are two ways. One, I could break one of his legs in a tragically miscalculated dive for the ball – don’t laugh, coach would believe it, I’m shit with angles and all, ask my maths teacher!” He raised his voice to mock indignation when Harry laughed a little louder, but then carried on over him. “…Or we could train, me and you. After practice, I mean. Work in some extra hours, or something.”
Harry found himself nodding, and the two drilled together for the rest of practice. When the coach blew the whistle, the team went in, had a little pep talk, and went to the locker room. “Just meet me outside in five, yeah? Call your ride and let them know you don’t need them. I’ll just take you home.” Harry nodded and went to text Liam that he wouldn’t be walking home with him today because he was staying with a teammate to practice more drills. He waited until Liam replied with something that somewhat resembled English, and Harry assumed Liam understood because there were no question marks.
Tossing his phone into the locker he was assigned to, Harry filled his water bottle up and jogged out of the locker room, where Louis was standing, chatting with Stan.
“Sorry, mate, my mum’s working tonight. I have to watch my sisters; I can’t go,” he lamented in a dramatically whiny voice.
Stan groaned but nodded. “Well in that case, I think I’ll have Zayn be my wingman, or something, yeah?”
Louis pretend-scowled but laughed it off. “Good luck; you know he’s more interested in his reflection than picking up women,” he joked. He noticed Harry standing around, looking unsure of himself, and jerked his head in the direction of the field. “Go pick up the footballs, rookie,” he said calmly. Harry looked confused but did as Louis told, jogging off towards the field.
As he went, Harry heard Stan laugh and say, “What are you punishing him for?”
Louis snorted and answered, “Nothing. He’s just new. Have to break him in, yeah? So he picks up the equipment. Run along, now, don’t be late for that party,” he taunted. Stan sniggered but left, jogging to his car in the lot and speeding out.
Harry was just putting the last football in the bag when Louis jogged up to him. “Leave that one out. We’ll use it.” Harry nodded and dropped the ball to the ground, nudging it around with his foot. “Sorry,” Louis added, sensing Harry’s confusion. “Stan wouldn’t like it if he thought I favored you over the other kid. He’s all about skill as-is. Wouldn’t approve of me practicing with you.”
“Why are you?” Harry blurted, looking around to Louis and meeting his eyes. “Practicing with me, I mean?”
Louis stayed quiet, opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and closed it again. Finally, he answered, “I want someone on my right who speaks my language.” He grinned at Harry, who couldn’t help grinning back before passing the ball over to Louis.
“We don’t have to practice today, you know,” Harry mentioned. Louis looked up, confused, and Harry elaborated. “You have to watch your sisters, yeah? I don’t want you to be tired or anything…” But Louis was already shaking his head and laughing.
“No, my mum doesn’t work graveyard shift on weekends. I just didn’t want to go out and party tonight, is all. Stan’s idea of partying is different than mine. Plus, I’d already told you we’d practice, yeah?”
Harry nodded. “What’s your idea of partying, then?” he asked, curious.
Louis smirked and stared hard at Harry for a while before kicking the ball down the field. “It’s not getting smashed and picking up girls, like you probably think it is.” Before Harry could even deny it (although, he had to admit, that was what he thought Louis would party like), he instructed Harry, “Go get the ball, dribble it up, and we’ll play keep away. Good luck. I’m quick.”
The two practiced well over three hours, and the light was fading by the time Louis realized it. Glancing at his watch on a break, he exclaimed, “Shit, it’s late!”
Harry frowned and glanced at Louis’ wrist, a jolt of surprise running through him when he realized the sky was turning purple. He started to think his mum might worry, as it wasn’t like Harry to be out late on Friday nights, but relaxed, knowing Liam would have told her for him. Still, it would probably do good to head home now and calm her nerves.
“Guess we’ll have to go turn on the field lights, now, won’t we?” Louis grinned, looking over at Harry. It was a suggestion, and Harry knew he could say he needed to get home and Louis would probably take him, but Harry found himself wanting to stay.
So he nodded.
When Harry and Louis’ stomachs were starting to growl, Louis yelled across the field. “I’m about to die; d’you think you’re ready to leave?”
Harry nodded, just as out of breath as Louis was, and let the football Louis had just sent flying hit his chest and drop to the ground. Ignoring the slight sting - there had been many hits to the chest - Harry kicked the ball towards the ball bag and followed at a brisk pace, only slowing once he saw Louis was slowing, too, from across the field.
Harry put the ball into the bag and grabbed Louis’ things and his own water bottle, heading back to the locker room to retrieve his own things and put the balls in the equipment room. Louis followed at a pace like a sloth’s. By the time Harry had put the balls up, gotten changed out of his practice clothes and taken his backpack, phone, iPod, and wallet out of his locker and walked out of the room, Louis was just there, coughing.
Harry passed over the water bottle he’d filled up, and Louis took it gratefully, chugging nearly half of it. “Slowly, or you’ll throw up,” Harry admonished gently.
“Says who?” Louis threw back playfully as he swallowed another mouthful.
“My sports med teacher,” Harry announced, smiling triumphantly when Louis grimaced in defeat.
“Let me go get my stuff and change. You smell better than me; that’s not acceptable,” Louis said, his breathing back to almost-normal as he walked into the locker room. Harry sat on a bench just outside the football field and waited until Louis came out, dressed in a different outfit than he had worn to school. Harry raised his eyebrows.
“I don’t like changing back into the clothes I wore all day,” Louis said with a shrug, his trousers a little looser than the ones before practice, his striped shirt thinner but not the least bit looser. Harry could see Louis’ abs through the shirt. It became a slight distraction. “Harry,” Louis emphasized, sounding like he’d repeated it a few times.
“Sorry,” Harry said, snapping to attention and standing. “Yeah, I’m ready. We can go now.” Trying to hide his blush and fend off a slight hardening of his dick, Harry stood on his toes and bounced, smiling shyly.
Louis raised his eyebrows in a smirk, but said nothing as he led the way to his car. A freaking Porsche. Harry got into the passenger seat as Louis went around to the boot and put his things in. Closing his eyes, Harry breathed slowly as he processed the fact that it was completely unfair to even look like Louis, much less have a sexy car along with good looks. He kept his eyes closed and mentally complained about the injustice of fate in his world as Louis got into the car and started the engine.
“Alright there, Harry?” Louis asked with a small laugh as he drove from the parking lot.
Harry opened his eyes and saw Louis glancing over at him. “Yeah-” Harry cleared his throat, which came out sounding a little huskier, and continued, “Yeah, ‘m alright. Good practice, that was.”
Louis shivered and leaned down to turn up the heat, humming his agreement as he turned off the main road. “I’m hungry and I can’t wait. Hope you didn’t have plans of going straight home,” he informed Harry casually.
Harry only shook his head. “’S not like I’d be doing anything, anyway,” Harry laughed, but Louis frowned.
“Why don’t I see you at parties or anything? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out.”
Harry blushed. “I don’t really…go out,” he hedged.
“You should!” Louis exclaimed as he parked the car in front of a McDonald’s. “You don’t have to drink to party, if that’s what it is,” he added as he climbed out of his car.
Harry shook his head. “It’s not that I have a problem with drinking. I mean, I don’t drink, really…but it’s like. It’s not really my scene, you know?”
Louis looked amused, holding the door open for Harry and following him in. “Get whatever you want, I’ll pay,” he told Harry before ordering a meal and Harry uneasily ordered the cheapest thing he could find. “He’ll have three of those and a large fry,” Louis told the cashier. “And a large drink,” he added for good measure. Harry started to protest but Louis cut him off, saying dramatically, “Harry, if you’re going to be a cheap date, at least let me make myself feel better by spoiling you.” Harry blushed as the cashier giggled quietly and accepted, thanking him graciously.
As they walked to the drink machine, Louis continued their conversation. “What scene do you mean, exactly?”
Harry waited until Louis picked a table and sat down across from him to answer, brows a little furrowed. “The whole - 'getting smashed and picking up girls and dancing and - and making a reputation for yourself' scene,” Harry admitted, biting his lip while hoping he hadn’t offended Louis.
But Louis just smiled. “You’re talking about me, yeah?” Harry chewed his lip more and nodded, glancing up anxiously. Before Louis could answer, their number was called and he stood to go get it. When he came back, he continued as he passed Harry’s food over to him and got his own, “The thing is, my reputation is mostly just that - a reputation. It’s not true. Do I get smashed? Well - that part is true sometimes. I enjoy drinking; I’ll give you that one. No shame in it. And dancing - I really like dancing. I’m quite shit at it, to be honest, but I love it. But I don’t go pick up girls and take them home and - no. I don’t do that.” Louis paused and looked at Harry pointedly. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
Harry shook his head. “Why would you lie to me? What have you got to gain? No, I believe you,” he assured Louis. He wanted to ask so many questions, but he didn’t want to seem like an idiot, or an over-eager kid. Louis was older, after all, and much, much cooler.
“You can ask me questions, Harry,” Louis mumbled around his food a little impatiently, looking amused.
Harry blushed. “It’s just - this is going to sound really, really weird, but - why don’t you pick up girls at parties? Seems like, if I were you, and I already had a reputation like yours - no offense - and I was single - you are, aren’t you? - I’d be picking up people left and right. Why don’t you?”
Louis watched Harry struggle through the question, then smiled to himself. “I’m not sure if you meant that as a compliment, but I’m going to take it as one. And yes, I am single. Are you hitting on me? That would make you a nice date.” Louis laughed a little at Harry’s blush. “Harry, I’m gay.”
Harry’s mind screamed a million different things all at once, and finally ended on he’s gay oh my god I actually have a chance in this world oh my gosh he’s gay wait what the crap he’s gay oh my god.
“Is that a problem?” Louis asked, but he was smiling like he could tell Harry wouldn’t have a problem with it.
“Wha- oh, no, it’s not a - I don’t - I’m fine with - I’m - it’s okay,” Harry finally concluded, blushing a dark red.
Louis laughed. “Harry, are you gay?” he asked.
Harry was caught off guard, okay? “Yeah,” he answered, and then clapped his hand over his mouth.
“It’s fine, Harry,” Louis soothed. He put his milkshake down and touched the back of Harry’s hand just briefly. “It’s okay. I’m gay, remember? There’s no judgment.”
Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve - only told that to one other person,” he admitted, thinking fondly of Liam. “D’you know Liam Payne? He’s in my year.”
Louis nodded, much to Harry’s surprise. Harry hadn’t expected Louis to know anything about Liam, Niall, Andy, or himself. “Bit of a mother-hen you hang round with, yeah? And Niall, and - sorry, I forget the other one’s name,” he trailed off, looking awkward.
“Andy,” Harry supplied, a little shocked. “Well, yeah, but - Liam’s the only one. Who knows.”
Louis nodded. “Are you two dating?” he asked, watching Harry’s face closely.
Harry coughed around his food. “What?! Me and Liam? No, no, Liam’s been my best mate since I was four! That’d be like…like…dating a brother!” He made a sound of disgust before composing himself. “Liam is my best mate, that’s all. I’ve never dated anyo- him,” he corrected himself hastily.
“Wait, you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Louis asked incredulously, and Harry was so embarrassed he wanted to cry. He stuffed food in his face and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans as he shook his head.
Louis seemed to realize he’d embarrassed Harry, and tried to go about making it right. “That’s fine, Harry, I’m just - shocked, really. You’re - to be honest, you’re quite fit. I just thought…it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, really.”
Harry nodded, still bright red, and continued to eat silently. Louis joined in the silence for a few minutes, fidgeting until Harry had to let up. “You can ask me,” he sighed.
“Why haven’t you had a boyfriend?” Louis blurted out, sounding almost desperate to know, like the question had been burning him.
Harry’s breathing hitched a bit in surprise and he took a drink to settle his cough. “I - it just never felt right, I suppose.” He shrugged and Louis looked at him in disbelief.
“You’re way too mature for your age, Harry,” he said seriously. “So what about sex? Are you a virgin, then?”
Harry looked down and answered to the table as he felt the loneliness well up inside of him. “Yeah. I’ve never even…held hands. With a guy, I mean.”
Harry expected Louis to laugh, or come up with another blurted out question, but he just felt Louis’ fingertips touching his own. He looked up and Louis’ face was full of some kind of emotion. For a second, Harry wanted to throw himself across the table and fuck him senseless...but then he snatched his hands away. “I don’t want pity, Louis, I’m proud of myself.”
Louis looked shocked and completely innocent as he held his hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t pitying, I swear, Harry. If you wanted it, you could have anyone at that school in two seconds, dead. I don’t pity you for a second. I just - wanted to touch you.” Harry snorted, and then Louis blushed a bit. “Alright, for the king of virgins, you’ve got a dirty mind,” he teased, and Harry couldn’t help it - he doubled over laughing at the new nickname.
“Call me Your Highness,” he said in a snobby voice, turning his nose up.
Louis laughed with him but warned, “I’ll do it,” and Harry laughed again.
On the way home, Louis and Harry were a bit more at ease with each other, joking around and carrying on. Louis stopped at Harry’s driveway and turned to look at him. “I’m not going to ask for a kiss goodnight, but you were a lovely date." Harry blushed, and Louis more seriously added, "And you’re a good footballer, Harry. Be more confident in it.” Harry nodded and Louis continued. “Just text me if you’re up for practice tomorrow, or something.”
Harry paused. “I don’t have your number…” he trailed off, feeling like an idiot.
But Louis apparently had forgotten Harry didn’t have it. “Oh - right, wait, here-” He reached around for a sharpie he had in his glove box and grabbed Harry’s fingers, writing his mobile number. “That’s me. Just text me or something whenever you want to practice, yeah? Or, like, for whatever.”
Harry couldn’t breathe properly, but he nodded anyways and opened the door. As he grabbed his things, he was careful not to smear the marker on his palm and he closed the car door with the other hand. Louis drove off with a wave and Harry walked to his door, waving his hand in the air to make sure the marker dried completely.
Harry greeted his mum as she met him at the stairs to see him. “Have fun?” she asked. “My big, strong varsity footballer,” she added, like she couldn’t help it.
Harry laughed and ducked his head. “Yeah, I had fun. But I’m gonna have to work extra hard if I want to play alongside Louis Tomlinson,” he muttered.
“Louis Tomlinson?” she asked, surprised.
Harry, equally surprised at her tone, answered, “Yeah. He’s center, so I’ll literally be right next to him. If I get the spot, I mean.”
Anne smiled. “Oh, I know Louis. He’s the sweetest. His mum was my nurse the other day at my appointment. He came in and charmed all the other nurses out of their scrub trousers,” she joked. “He’s quite like you in that way. Is he as nice in football?”
Harry smiled as he nodded. “He’s really nice. Funny, too. If I get the spot, I think I’ll have a really good season.”
His mum smiled and rubbed his arm and bid him goodnight. “You had better get some sleep. Quite the busy Friday night you’ve had, yeah?”
Harry laughed as he climbed the stairs with his bag. “Right. Stay five hours late for practice and then McDonald’s. It’s a wonder you let me out at all!”
“So rebellious,” Anne continued with a warm laugh.
Harry got to his room and threw his bag down on the floor and pulled out his phone, texting Liam that he was home to stop his mate from worrying he was dead on the field or something. They texted back and forth for an hour or so, and Harry told Liam all about the drills, that damned transfer student, and the complicated plays. But he didn’t tell Liam about Louis yet.
It was the type of thing Liam would just have to see.