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They’re kind of used to it by now. At the very start of Louis’ senior career there’d been an element of uncertainty, a quiet excitement tinged with apprehension that neither of them knew how to contain or deal with. They’d spend the evening before the match quietly oscillating around each other, neither one sure quite how to act, seven years of knowing each other better than the backs of their hands (Louis’d actually proven this once when they were eighteen and twenty-one, asking Harry to describe the back of his own hand and then describe something about Louis that no one else knew. Louis had cackled maniacally when Harry had failed to remember the faint birthmark on his own wrist but could recall and reproduce the exact sound Louis’d made the first time Harry had made him come untouched) betrayed by the immensity of what tomorrow would bring. Harry had initially given Louis his space, allowing him to mentally prepare himself and focus on the game, refusing Louis’ pleas for pre-match sex.
---
‘Haz, pleaaaaaaase, there’s just so much adrenalin in me and I really need to burn it off otherwise I’m never gonna get to sleep and then I’ll be tired and absolutely useless tomorrow and you’ll have to live with the knowledge that your boyfriend is the worst new recruit Man U’s ever had. So really, it’s in your own interest to have sex with me.’
‘But what if I hurt you or you pull a muscle or something? Or what if you use up too much of the adrenalin and there’s none left for tomorrow? What if you’re so worn out that you have no energy and fall asleep in the middle of the pitch?’ Harry’s eyes were ridiculously wide, boring into Louis with the same genuine concern and innocence that had disarmed him all those years ago in the bathroom of their secondary school.
He rolls his eyes and throws himself back into the pillows dramatically, huffing out a sigh and a ‘Jesus, Haz. How fucking athletic do you think you are?’
It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes now, smirking as he reaches out and idly drags his fingers in swirling shapes against the smooth, warm skin of Louis’ chest.
‘I think you know the answer to that one, love. You’re not the only one who’s talented with balls.’
Louis turns his head, slanting his eyebrows and fixing Harry with a glare that has made many cower. Harry, however, doesn’t waver, having become immune to it over the years thanks to a strict program of immersion therapy.
‘Well that talent is certainly being wasted now, you ass.’
Harry pouts teasingly at him, scooting further towards Louis, plastering himself to his back as Louis rolls away in defiance. Louis huffs but relents, allowing Harry to nuzzle his neck as Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ middle, fingertips stroking his stomach gently, his previous annoyance melting away in favour of the feeling of contentment that pulses out of Harry’s fingertips and into his belly, coursing through his veins and filling him with warmth.
‘I’ll make it up to you with post-match sex. Locker room sex. One day we’ll sneak out onto Old Trafford at midnight and I’ll fuck you in the centre circle.’
‘I’ll hold you to that, darling.’ Louis smiles, stroking Harry’s forearms where they’re wrapped around his waist.
Quiet washes over them for a few minutes, both being slowly dragged away by the tides of sleep until…
‘I’m really nervous.’
The words tumble out of his mouth, quiet and muffled by his pillow. Harry’s arms constrict reflexively around Louis at this admission of vulnerability.
‘I know, baby. But you’re going to be so great. You’re going to play amazingly and the entirety of Britain’s going to fall in love with you but you’re always going to be mine. However, I’ll permit the general public to love you from afar as long as you always return home to me and continue to steal my socks because you’re a stubborn yet-infuriatingly talented idiot who refuses to buy his own,’ Harry whispers into Louis’ neck, lips brushing against skin and his breath making Louis’ hair ruffle slightly.
Louis blushes and presses a smile into the pillow.
‘Harry Styles you absolute sap,’ he giggles, moving his fingers to fall into the slots between Harry’s.
Harry presses a gentle kiss behind Louis’ ear and closes his eyes, the two of them drifting off to sleep to the sound of them breathing together in perfect time.
---
Over time, Louis’ nerves gradually decreased and Harry’s commitment to not tiring Louis out relaxed, resulting in some truly impressive adrenalin-fuelled exploits, not just limited to the sexual kind. There was the time they chased each other to the deserted children’s playground down the street and goaded each other into seeing who could swing higher on the swingset (Harry won, his long giraffe-like limbs a definite advantage in gaining momentum), and the time they jumped the fence of a communal garden and jumped on the trampoline, engaged in a furious battle to double-bounce the other. Of course, there were also the sexual exploits. Once Louis proved to Harry that it was an effective way for him to blow off steam and get in the right headspace, it became a regular part of Louis’ pre-match ritual.
---
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Haz. I can’t believe you denied me that for so long,’ Louis pants, as Harry flops down onto him, his stupidly broad and sweat-sticky chest half-covering Louis’ own.
Harry just grins and sticks his tongue out to lap at the sweat pooled in Louis’ collarbone, causing a shudder to run down the length of Louis’ spine.
‘In hindsight, I do admit that it may have been an error in judgement on my part. But I maintain that I had pure intentions,’ Harry drawls, moving his mouth to start sucking marks into the skin around Louis’ collarbones, causing a sigh to escape Louis’ mouth.
‘Well sweetheart, I’m glad you decided to make those intentions slightly less-pure because honestly, I play best when I’m feeling thoroughly well-fucked.’
‘Yeah you do,’ Harry pulls his mouth away long enough to snicker and raise his hand for a high-five.
Louis acquiesces, and then drops his hand to Harry’s bare ass, drawing patterns with his fingertips that cause Harry’s toes to curl and his eyes flutter closed. He begins sucking on Louis’ neck slightly harder, and he can feel Louis’ dick slowly hardening beneath him.
‘Once more with feeling?’ Louis whispers, voice wavering.
‘If we must,’ Harry mouths against Louis’ neck, shuddering as Louis’ hands move to cup Harry’s arse and push his hips into his own, grinding against him lazily.
Louis turns his head to fit his mouth against Harry’s, hips moving against each other’s as Louis smooths his hand up Harry’s back and tangles it in his curls, scratching at his scalp in a way that elicits a groan. As he pushes his tongue into Harry’s mouth, Louis feels himself be flipped over and pressed into the mattress, the warm weight of Harry’s hips pushing into his causing him to sigh into Harry’s mouth and bite down gently on his lower lip. Long fingers drag down his sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they make their way down to stroke at his hipbones. He feels Harry slide slightly off him, and Louis makes a sound of annoyance as his mouth chases Harry’s as he reaches blindly towards the bedside table, snagging the bottle of lube and knocking a book and Louis’ water bottle (‘Hydration is paramount, Harry.’) off in the process. Harry pulls back long enough to giggle.
‘Oops,’ he smirks, eyes bright, cheeks flushed and hair sticking out in every direction.
Sometimes, such as now, Louis has a tough time reconciling the young, wide-eyed boy he met in the bathroom with the strong and self-assured man he sees today, because he can’t remember a single defining moment where Harry has changed. He can’t pinpoint the exact day that Harry’s jaw became defined, nor can he remember when Harry’s v-lines first made an appearance. Yet Harry has grown up and blossomed right in front of Louis’ eyes, and it startles him how he’s been with him every step of the way. And underneath all the long and lean lines of Harry’s body is the same generous, kind and thoughtful boy who would do anything for the people he loves. Sometimes Louis can’t breathe because of how much he loves this man in every possible incarnation.
‘Hi,’ Louis whispers back, and Harry’s face splits into a grin in the exact same way it did when Louis first said that word in that godforsaken bathroom all those years ago.
Aside from the first few months, it was remarkable how little Louis’ night-before-the-match ritual changed. He attended training, then the team meeting, and then came home to Harry for a carbohydrate-loaded meal, followed by a few hours curled around him in front of the telly and then a few more hours wherein Harry fucked the nerves and fear away, leaving Louis in a calm and relaxed state ready to tackle tomorrow’s game and any other important developments that come his way.
‘Hey,’ Harry giggles, reaching out and tapping Louis’ nose.
‘Hey yourself.’ Louis tries to contain his grin, twisting his mouth up until he can’t hold it in any longer and spreads across his face, eyes crinkling up as he looks into Harry’s, the same colour as the pieces of glass that wash up on the beach, edges smoothed by the tide, the same colour after all this time.
Louis’ left hand reaches up to swat at Harry’s, but Harry deftly captures it in his own, pressing it into the mattress and pushing his forefinger into the fleshy part next to the thumb. Sometimes he loves Louis so much that he needs something to ground him, something to cling onto so he doesn’t get swept away in the inundation of adoration. From the way Louis squeezes his thumb and forefinger around Harry’s, Harry thinks Louis understands.
‘I think,’ Harry starts, licking his lips as he draws small loops on Louis’ palm.
‘Oh no, you know that never ends well, darling,’ Louis teases; eyes alight with fondness and mischief.
Harry rolls his eyes and digs a nail slightly into Louis’ palm, causing the smaller boy to mouth a gentle apology and nod, gesturing for Harry to continue.
‘I think we should get married,’ Harry says, smiling, fingertip dragging up and down the length of Louis’ ring finger.
Louis’ face lights up with a smile so bright, Harry is sure it could it could power the whole of Manchester for a year.
‘Yeah, alright,’ he whispers, as if Harry had merely asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Cool,’ Harry grins, dimples the depth of the Grand Canyon as he moves his head forward to rest his forehead against Louis’.
Louis scrunches up his forehead, bumping his head forward against Harry’s.
‘Took you long enough,’ he teases.
‘Mate, I’ve been trying to ask you for ten years. I’ve just been waiting for you to shut up long enough for me to do it.’
‘Dickhead,’ Louis whispers, brushing his lips over Harry’s.
Harry just smiles against his mouth, pressing his lips against Louis’ before licking dirtily into his mouth. Louis yields against him, sucking Harry’s tongue into his mouth, swallowing his groan when Louis snakes his hand down and cups Harry’s arse, pulling his hips into alignment with his own.
‘I love you so fucking much,’ he gasps when Harry finally pulls away in search of air.
‘Right back atcha, arsehole,’ Harry pants, sliding his leg in between Louis’ and sliding his hand up to rest in the curve of Louis’ waist.
They fall asleep like that, and the next day Louis’ game performance is driven by the small bolts of excitement that shoot up his spine every time he thinks of Harry and the fact that the overgrown toddler with the body of a supermodel who wakes him up with blowjobs is going to be his husband one day soon.
---
Remarkably, in the first eleven years, nothing had changed. They’d been attached at the hip ever since they’d met, fitting seamlessly into each other’s lives in such a manner that neither could remember a time before LouisandHarry. Aside from the few difficult years of separation due to Uni and the academy and reserves, they’d been a constant fixture in each other’s daily life, living together from the moment Louis had made the senior team. Their mothers, siblings and friends had been referring to them as husbands since the day Louis had first stumbled into his kitchen, dragging Harry by the wrist and presenting him to his mother like a new toy. And even the transition of going from practically husbands to actually husbands was largely uneventful; their place in each other’s life so firmly established that no ring or piece of paper could alter it.
---
Louis’ pacing, turning his phone over in his hands as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. One hour. One hour more. Suddenly, his phone buzzes, the vibrations jolting him and causing him to drop it.
‘Shit shit shitting shit,’ he curses as he bends to pick it up, and promptly drops it again when he sees who the text is from.
‘Fuck!’ he exclaims, voice shaking as he lunges to pick it up again, deciding to just stay lying on the floor. With shaking hands he thumbs the message open, squinting as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing.
i want to see you but i can’t wedding traditions suck pls remind me why we’re getting married
A slightly hysterical laugh escapes Louis’ lips as he types out a reply.
i don’t know mate youre the one that asked me
He hits send, and spends the next thirty seconds composing himself, forcing his breathing to slow down as he awaits a response. And when it comes, he almost has a heart attack.
yeah regretting it tbh. meet me in the loos in the green corridor for a quickie? ;)
Louis groans, and squeezes his eyes shut, ruing the day Harry Styles was ever born.
not a chance, pal. some things are sacred
Louis slumps his head down onto the floor, sighing into the cool wooden floorboards. He feels the ground vibrate, and he gulps, mentally preparing himself for Harry’s message.
your arse is the only law i abide by, sweetheart.
Louis rolls his eyes, and is halfway through typing out a chiding response when a new message pops up.
i’ve got an idea. walk to the corner of the green corridor but DO NOT TURN THE CORNER I MEAN IT TOMLINSON IF YOU TURN THE CORNER I REFUSE TO MARRY YOU please wait there for further instructions
Louis slowly closes his eyes and whacks his head a few times against the floor. He is marrying an idiot. Looking at his watch, he decides he’s got enough time to go for a stroll. Peeling himself up off of the floor, he brushes himself off and smooths down his suit. Taking a deep breath, he sets off in the direction he recalls the green hallway being, brand new shoes squeaking against the waxed floorboards.
Coming to a halt just before the corner, Louis presses his back against the wall and takes a couple of deep, calming breaths. He can do this. Whatever Harry has planned, he can manage. He’s handled Harry perfectly fine for eleven years, he can handle the next eleven minutes. Maybe not if it’s any longer than that. Jesus Christ, they’re getting married in 50 minutes. Harry better make this quick.
He unlocks his phone and types out a text to Harry.
i’m at the corner you dick
He locks his phone and tilts his head back against the wall, praying to all the higher powers that he makes it out of this alive. If he dies before his wedding, his mum will kill him.
‘Hi.’
Louis jumps and definitely doesn’t let out a shriek as the voice comes around the corner.
‘Harry!’ he whispers sharply. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
Instead of a response, he sees Harry’s hand thrust out from behind the corner. Louis grabs onto it and clings like a drowning man to a lifeboat. Harry threads his fingers through Louis’ and squeezes, his thumb rubbing against the back of Louis’ thumb.
‘Hey darling,’ he says, and even though he can’t see him, Louis can tell from his voice that Harry is smiling his ‘Louis smile’, the ‘I’m not quite sure where you came from but I’m really, really glad that you did’ smile that was so-named by Louis’ sister Lottie and perpetuated by Harry’s sister Gemma who claimed that it was so sweet it actually made her vomit.
‘Hey yourself,’ Louis smiles, and he can feel his reciprocating ‘Harry smile’ spreading across his face.
‘How are you feeling?’ Harry’s voice drifts around the corner, slow, sweet and languid like swimming in honey.
‘Better now,’ Louis admits, and it’s true. Hearing Harry’s voice has calmed him down, and now he just wants to see him, wants to see the man that’s going to be his husband, see the boy that’s been his for as long as he can remember, see the person that’s going to be his forever.
‘Me too,’ Harry whispers, and Louis can hear everything he’s feeling at that second reflected in Harry’s voice.
‘I love you,’ Louis says, his voice breaking on the second word.
‘I know. That’s kinda why we’re here,’ Harry giggles, squeezing Louis’ hand.
‘Oh really? I’m just doing it for your money.’
‘Shut up, wanker. I love you.’
‘I know.’
‘I really wanna see you.’
‘I know.’
‘I really wanna kiss you.’
‘I know.’
‘Close your eyes.’
‘Harry, wha-.’
‘I said close your eyes, arsehole.’
‘Fine,’ Louis sighs. ‘They’re closed.’
‘Okay, lean around the corner, but keep your eyes closed otherwise I can’t marry you due to your impugned virtue.’
‘Wanker,’ Louis whispers fondly under his breath, leaning forward with his eyes closed.
He feels a face against his cheek, Harry’s lips sealing against his in a desperate kiss. Louis kisses back; sucking on Harry’s bottom lip and blindly brushing his free hand against what he hopes is Harry’s cheek.
‘I love you,’ he mumbles into Harry’s mouth. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’
‘So much,’ Harry whispers back. ‘So much, so much, so much.’
‘Louis!’ a voice calls from back down his corridor. ‘Where the fuck are ya?’
Louis jumps, barely remembering to keep his eyes screwed shut.
‘Shit, I have to go,’ Louis curses, surging forward to fit his mouth over Harry’s once more, twice more, three times more.
‘Yep, it’s almost time, darling. See you out there.’
‘I’ll be the one grinning like an idiot,’ Louis chuckles.
‘Louis Tomlinson, you absolute sap.’
Louis grins against Harry’s mouth as he presses one final kiss to it.
‘Bye,’ he whispers, and forces himself back around the corner.
He keeps his eyes closed for several seconds, breathing deeply and trying to process the fact that he’s getting married in a bit over half an hour. Once he’s composed himself, he sets off back down the corridor.
‘Coming, Zayner. Let’s go get me married!’
---
The first two years of marriage were incredibly similar to the first eleven of non-marriage, with the only real change being the ability to check a few different boxes on a few different forms, and the thrill of actually being able to refer to each other as ‘husband’. Life kept moving forward, Louis kept gaining prestige as Man U’s best defender, even representing England on a few occasions. Harry kept getting promoted; getting to work on some high profile cases and making some real change that benefited so many people. Their social circles continued to grow, with Louis’ footy mates and Harry’s law school and then lawyer friends merging into one big group of lovely people that the both of them were so grateful to have in their lives.
---
‘Bye, darling, please come visit again soon,’ Harry smiles at the grinning infant carried in her mother’s arms as he follows them down the hallway to the door.
‘Ta for watching her, Haz. You two’ll have to come over for tea next week, yeah?’ Lou calls over her shoulder, craning her neck to get her words out around the child in her arms.
‘How’s Thursday?’ Louis asks from behind Harry, wrapping his arm around his husband’s waist and burrowing under his arm.
‘See ya then, babes. Bye Lou, bye Haz. Say bye to your uncles, Luxy.’
Baby Lux just grins, drool dribbling down her chin.
‘Bye love, see you soon,’ Louis chuckles as Harry blows a kiss to Lux.
The door closes, and the house seems oddly quiet without the presence of the toddler.
Harry turns his face to Louis, a grin pulling up one side of his face.
‘I want one,’ he exhales at the same time as Louis says ‘Let’s have a baby.’
Their faces break into matching grins as they stare at each other.
‘Let’s do it. Let’s have a fucking baby.’ Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, pressing his forehead against Louis’.
‘How?’
‘Fucked if I know.’
‘I’m going to fucking Google it.’
‘I’d rather you fucking fuck me first.’
Louis raises an eyebrow. ‘I guess if our alone time is going to become significantly reduced soon, we better make the most of it while we can.’
Harry just smirks and tilts his face forward so his lips are mere millimetres away from Louis’.
‘Let’s fucking do this,’ he whispers, and fits their mouths together.
---
And now, they’re kind of used to it. All of it. They’re kind of used to the pre-match jitters and pre-dawn feeds, kind of used to falling asleep wrapped around each other and alone on the floor of Juliette’s room, kind of used to staring at each other with lust-blown eyes and with looks of despair. They’re very used to each other, and their daughter and how they work as a team and how they work individually and their jobs and their home and the chronically optimistic labradoodle that was their test-run before Jet and the amazing support network they have around them.
One thing Harry will never get used to, he thinks, is the look on Louis’ face whenever he looks at him. Louis’ ‘Harry smile’ lights up an entire room, and is only slightly more jaw-dropping than his ‘Jet smile’ which has become a regular fixture over the past two years.
They’re standing just in front of the entry to the tunnel at Old Trafford, Jet bundled up in her Papa’s arms, dressed in the Man U home colours, her father’s number 17 emblazoned on the back underneath the word ‘DAD’. Harry passes her to Louis, and Jet presses a peal of laughter into her father’s shoulder.
‘All right pumpkin, you be good for Daddy okay? It’s a very important day for him and he wants to share this with you, but you’ve got to promise to be on your best ever behaviour,’ Harry lectures, smoothing his hand over her curly hair.
Jet nods, pressing her forehead into Louis’ neck.
‘She’ll be fine, babe. We’ll see you on the other side, yeah? I’ll pass her off to you once we’re on the pitch and they’ve made the announcements and we’ve basked in the glory.’ He jostles Jet a little, who gives a tired giggle.
‘It’s only 200 games, don’t get ahead of yourself, Tomlinson,’ Harry chuckles, catching Louis’ hand in his own.
Louis rolls his eyes and leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips.
‘I love you. We’ll see you soon.’ He pulls back and makes his way over to where the rest of the team has lined up at the mouth of the tunnel.
Louis throws a quick wink his way before the announcement roars over the speakers, signalling his husband and daughter to move forward and out of eyesight.
Once the rest of the team and their mascots have gone through, Harry makes his way out onto the pitch with a few other members of the Man U machine. He watches as his husband waves at the crowd as his 200th game is declared, and as his daughter waves a tiny fist in the air in imitation. His heart feels several sizes too big for his chest as he claps along with the crowd.
When all the fuss has died down, Louis jogs over and carefully deposits his daughter back into Harry’s arms. He wraps them both in a hug, pressing a kiss to each of their temples before turning and jogging off to a team huddle.
Harry watches him go, the weight of his daughter warm in his arms and the love of his husband coursing through his veins.
He turns to grin at his daughter, and sees her smiling wildly back at him.
‘Dada’s great,’ she sighs, burrowing her head into his chest.
‘Juliette Tomlinson-Styles, you absolute sap,’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair.