17 Black

•5

My smut inspiration song is Undressed by Kim Cesarion because that song is hot. Anyway..Read along, geez.

It's in the last ten minutes of the second half. Louis feels the most frustrated that he has ever been in his life as he watches the opposing team move the ball effortlessly straight through both the line of midfield and the line of defense, achieving their second goal easily. And he also feels sorry for Liam, because he really is trying to save the team, but they just don't know how to play together. Louis knows that if he was out there, he could do so much more for the team. And when Louis looks over at Harry, who is crouching near the sideline with his lips in a tight line and his eyebrows pulled together in an expression of anger and contemplation, he thinks that he knows it, too. So being the stubborn and persistent person he is, Louis pushes himself off of the bench and approaches his coach with confidence in his step.

"Coach Styles, I'd really like to actually play now," he says in a mock tone of politeness.

Sensing his presence, Harry looks up at him with those penetrating green eyes, standing from his crouch and instantly going from a foot shorter than Louis to a foot taller. Something about this change and the way that his coach is sizing him up makes Louis' confidence waver. When he speaks, his voice is low and challenging.

"If you are so insistent, then why should I put you in?"

Louis doesn't take more than a second to regain control. "Because I can score," he retorts simply, yet with an attitude.

By the narrow in Harry's green eyes and the way his heart lips pucker as he chews at the inside of his cheek, Louis can tell that he's at least contemplating it.

"How many did you score last season?" Harry finally questions, a doubtful tone in his voice.

"Twelve in eight matches," Louis replies, trying to hide his pride.

Harry hesitates, his eyes locked on Louis with an uncertain look for so long that Louis almost thinks he's going to send his arse right back to the bench.

"Go in for Isaiah," he orders quickly, like he's afraid he'll regret it later. "If I am disappointed, you owe me."

Working desperately hard to keep a straight face, despite his joy and relief, Louis jogs to the half line and waits eagerly for the assistant referee to call him in. He can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins before he even steps foot on the pitch, and something just tells him that he is going to do well. And he was right.

After only two minutes of being in play, Louis scores a goal. A beautiful one, at that. It was off of a counter attack; he executed a clean give-and-go down the middle with Stan around the last defender and drove the ball straight into the back of the net for their first goal in the last eight minutes of the game. He doesn't even need to look over at Harry to see his reaction, because he already knows that it's exactly how he would've wanted it to be.

Just minutes later, an opposing defender bobbled with the ball just yards from the box, which Louis stepped up and swiped from right under his feet, easily finding the left corner of the goal with a clean shot and achieving a tie.

And--even though he himself didn't score--with three minutes left in the game, Louis performed a series of foot skills and maneuvered around three defenders like he did it in his sleep, then dishing a perfectly placed, perfectly paced cross off to the left striker who was able to take a one time shot for the win. He was nearly bursting with self pride as the final whistle sounded. Both teams jogged to the half line, forming two lines as they walked past each other and shook hands with the opposition before returning to their respective benches. As Louis followed the team as they crowded around Harry at the end of the game, he received a few pats on the back from those of his teammates who were actually decent people and not appalled by his homo/bisexuality. This time, when Harry spoke to the team, he actually bothered to listen.