Sidelines

Part title

Harry tips his jug back for another long drink on his way down, tempted to upend the entire contents of it over his head, down his back.

"Have a seat boys." Cowell orders, nodding towards the seats in the front. Harry slowly lowers himself down, calves burning as he sits. Louis sits down a few seats away from him, taking long drinks from his water bottle as he spreads his legs apart and leans back in his seat. Harry stares at the floor, trying to catch his breath and not look at Louis all at once.

"Do you two realise how much shit I have to put up with because of you? Do you know how many conversations I've had with the team and Athletics board about kicking you both out? Do you want to know why you're still sitting here with a jersey number and a pair of skates in a locker?"

The questions are rhetorical, that much is obvious, so neither of them say anything as they wait for Cowell to continue.

"You're good. Some of the best players I've ever had on this team and I want to see you go places with the talent you both possess." Cowell sighs. He's quiet for a moment, pacing in front of them. "But that doesn't make you invincible. Right now, I look at you, and I don't see NHL material."

Harry lets out a breath like he's been punched, running his hands over his face till they land on the back of his neck.

"I don't think," Cowell starts again, tapping his chin. "I don't think you realize how much power I have over your futures. As your coach, I'm the first person scouts are gonna talk to, and while I'd never do anything to intentionally jeopardize your careers, I promise you at this point the first thing I'd tell them is your sportsmanship is shit. I want to see you succeed, it's my job, but not if I know you're only going to fuck things up for yourself."

Harry wants to protest that he has excellent sportsmanship, that it's just fucking Louis that he has a problem with but he knows it will fall on deaf ears.

"That's all I want you to know. I hope you learned your lesson today. You don't have to make nice. I just need you to tolerate each other, and I want you to know I won't put up with this anymore. You're fucking done if you compromise this team one more time."

Louis and Harry both mutter their understanding, neither one of them having the balls to look their coach in the eyes.

"We have two practices before our next game, I want to put both of you in as starters. Show me I can."

Coach dismisses them, and Harry stands on wobbly legs to go shower. He has two back to back lectures and then he has to be back here for their actual practice. He strips himself down of his sweaty clothes, wrinkling his nose at the smell before turning the spray on hot and hoping he won't throw up again.

Louis pads in, looking shaken like he's been told, well, like he's been told he won't amount to anything at this rate, and Harry can at least share that sentiment. They don't speak to each other, Louis won't even look his way as he heads into his own shower.

Harry's definitely not looking, swiping his wet hair away from his face and lathering himself quickly with soap. He turns the water as high as it will go till his skin is red and the tension in his muscles have relaxed some what.

"You know if you weren't such a -" Louis starts, cutting into Harry's serenity sudden enough to startle him. Louis seems to stop himself though, shaking his head and shutting off his water. Harry rolls his eyes and tightens his jaw, biting back his own comments as he listens to Louis move around to get dressed. He shuts his own water off after a minute, tugging a towel around his waist as he wanders back out to the lockers. Louis was already dressed and is leaving the room with a dramatic slam of the door when Harry approaches his locker.