Sidelines

Part title

"Honestly Styles, have you been knocked in the head too many times, you could have intercepted that easily. Hell, my 11 year-old sister could have," Louis bickers.

"Oh fuck off, Donny, I've made more goals in this practice than you have since you've been on the team," Harry scoffs on his way back to half court after Liam and Andy had made a goal. Louis skates closer to him, his face inches from Harry's as he speaks, his voice low.

"You're hilarious, Styles, but keep talking like that and I'll-"

"Tomlinson, Styles!" Coach barks. Both of their heads turn to their coach, his expression full of disappointment. "Your goals are gone. Start over."

Even the team groans.

-

By the time they score their tenth goal it's actually their fifty-fourth. Coach let most of the team leave, save for Niall, Zayn, and Liam, who had started whipping pucks at them halfway through their fourth attempt and never really stopped.

When Harry manages to score the final goal Zayn and Niall both throw their sticks at the two before flipping down to lay on the ice.

Coach slow claps from the sideline as the four of them make their way off the ice, Louis and Harry both nearly chucking up their protein shakes from exhaustion.

"Took you six hours but you finally did it boys. Now I want you to shower and then the five of you are going to stay together tonight. I don't care where, but if I hear one of you decides to leave or you even think about fighting, we will have a repeat of today," Cowell says. He sends them off to the locker room with a reminder that their practice days have increased to every day this week in preparation for sectionals.

Harry gets two slaps on the head and Niall tries to shove his stick up his arse before he finally makes it to the shower, Zayn still has Louis in a headlock and is hissing in his ear.

"Hey, you're being unfair," Harry whines as Niall keeps fucking his water temperature with the busted control knob in the corner. He lowers his voice to a hiss when he says, "Remember that girl sophomore year who you hated because she wouldn't stop trying to convince you that you aren't of Irish descent? That's Louis."

"What the fuck did he do to piss you off that much?" Niall ask, letting go of the knob.

"For fuck's sake, Ni, I don't know, but I've got more than enough reasons now," Harry snaps, making a scene of shutting off the shower and snatching his towel from the hook.

"Well now we have to stay with them the rest of the night, and I wanna get shitfaced, so don't fucking fight with him," Niall huffs, following Harry out. Harry stuffs his spidery legs into his joggers, not bothering with boxers. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, hitting Niall with the spray.

"You're such a cunt," Niall grumbles, punching Harry in the arm. Harry dimples innocently, toeing on his yellow trainers and pulling his beanie over his wet hair. Louis comes out of the opposite end of the showers with Zayn and Liam, going to his locker and throwing on his own clothes. Harry's eyes catch on his pecs, but he shakes it off before he even comprehends what he's doing.

"So lads, what are we doing tonight?" Liam asks, clapping his hands together.

"Something involving pot," Niall shouts triumphantly, still half naked.

"I'm in," Zayn pipes up, pulling on his shoes.

"Weed makes me..." Harry trails off waving his hand vaguely and throwing his hoodie over shoulder.