Sidelines

Part title

"Gets him hot," Niall finishes, clapping Harry on the back as he sputters.

"Does the same to Lou," Zayn shrugs, making Louis punch him in the arm.

"First time we got Haz high, he showed me his porn collection and asked if he could suck me off in the bathroom," Niall adds solemnly, miming a tear with his finger.

"Better than Louis, last time we got high he begged me to fuck him, and even after I did he went and blew-"

"Shut the fuck up Zayn," Louis hisses, cutting Zayn off.

"Oh, this is going to be a show," Niall snickers. "Put your fuckin' shirt on, Styles." Harry hits him with it first before tugging it over his head, fixing his beanie and shoving his hands into his pocket.

"We can kip at me and Lou's apartment. I'm sure it's mediocre to you frats, but we just stocked up, and I have more than one bong," Zayn says, winking. Niall throws his arm around Zayn's shoulder, grinning as they walk out of the locker room.

"I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

-

The night is a fucking disaster. Harry has yet to touch any illegal substance, but the air is so thick with smoke he feels a bit loopy anyway. They're gathered around the TV watching reruns of The Office, playing some sort of drinking game Niall made up ten minutes ago, where they tip back their drinks each time someone stares discontentedly into the camera.

Niall and Liam are tucked under each of Zayn's arms with beers in their laps and joints hanging from their mouths, Louis is in the armchair and, of course, Harry is left with the floor. It does reap the benefit of a whole bottle of cherry Schnapps to himself, however, which leaves him mostly satisfied. The alcohol and smoke do not help the itch under his skin however, his dick is half hard in his pants and he feels about 50 degrees too warm.

"Hey, new drinking game," Niall says, not even slurring even after all that he's drank. Man can hold his liquor. "Take a shot every time Harry subconsciously touches his cock."

"I'd like to not get alcohol poisoning, but thanks," Louis puts in, the rest of the boys giggling. The air alone can't get him high enough to make awkward suggestions, thank God, but he's definitely feeling it. He lets out a low whine from his spot on the floor, clacking his teeth against the rim of his bottle.

"I bet you five pounds he starts deep throating that bottle," Niall says to Zayn, making Liam snort.

"How much is that in dollars, Ireland?" Zayn snickers, but everyone's eyes still follow Harry's every move. He plucks at his shirt and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, a hot flush crawling up his neck. Why do they all have to be watching him. It's making him even more hot, like he needs to get his cock out and have them all watch him as he jerks off, maybe tell him what to do or-

"Louis do not take off your shirt!" Zayn yells at the boy, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"What, it's fucking boiling in here," Louis argues. A piece of fabric lands on Harry's face, and he sputters, shaking it off.

"Keep you fucking trousers on mate or Harry might get in your lap," Niall states, making Harry pout.

"I wouldn't touch him with a pole longer than your fucking Irish heir line," Harry grumbles, kicking Louis' shirt a whole two feet away. He yanks his beanie off his head and shakes out his slightly sweaty curls, snatches Niall's joint and whips the beanie at his comically offended face. Harry lifts the joint to his lips and inhales deeply. He's got no reason to hold off anymore, not really. He knows he'll be taking a trip to the bathroom and/or offering up his mouth regardless.