Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Honey, have you seen my blue jacket?”

Harry smiles fondly as his boyfriend’s loud voice is heard across their shared home. 

“It’s by the front door,” he replies without missing a beat, used to Louis always misplacing his belongings by now. “And so are your boots!”

He can hear Louis laughing from the bedroom, indicating he successfully predicted what his next question would be.

“You’re the best!” Louis shouts back before Harry can hear him stomping down the stairs, presumably to retrieve the items he was looking for whilst doing some last minute packing.

Harry shakes his head in amusement. Some things just never change.

They’re leaving the next day for the Winter Olympics in China, and while his own suitcase has been packed and ready for almost a week now, Louis’ was totally empty up until an hour ago. 

Harry takes his time finishing his evening skincare routine before heading to bed to wait for Louis to join him. 

Being on rival hockey teams means they’ll be staying in separate hotel rooms in different areas of the Olympic village, and the fact that their relationship is a secret to their teammates and the general public also means Harry doesn’t know how much of each other they’ll be seeing over the next two weeks.

Still, the Olympics are always a magical time for Harry. It’s where he met Louis four years ago, after all.

The last Winter Olympics in South Korea had been Harry’s first, and he remembers being filled with anxious yet excited energy to have the privilege of being the main goaltender for team Canada. 

He had already been really nervous to play his first game against team USA, given the two teams’ extensive history of always competing against each other for the gold medal in the final, but his anxiety had reached a whole new level when he’d seen Louis in person for the first time.

As the captain of the US Olympic hockey team, Harry had seen Louis’ picture plenty of times; enough to know the man was really really attractive. 

Seeing him on the ice had immediately taken his breath away, though. Louis looked confident and self-assured in his uniform, and he wore it with pride. He moved on the ice with impressive speed and finesse that had Harry mesmerised from his spot in front of the net.

He was even hotter up close, even with his helmet and mouth guard on, and Harry realised a bit belatedly that being able to admire Louis from such a short distance meant he was coming towards him to shoot.

He hadn’t been able to move fast enough, and Louis had scored his first ever goal against him. 

Before Harry could truly get mad about it, he felt a small smile creep up on his face as he watched Louis excitedly celebrate with his teammates.

He’d known he was in trouble right then and there.

Luckily for him, it turns out his little (read: massive) crush on Louis was apparently mutual, and the other man had asked him out on a secret dinner date after their first game.

They had a few more hidden encounters after that, and were pretty much infatuated with one another by the time the long-awaited final came around.

This time, Harry was determined not to let himself get distracted by Louis on the ice, lest he cost his team the gold medal. They’d had some big wins against other countries lately though, so Harry felt rather confident ahead of this big game as well.

He was wrong, as it turned out, because his sneaky new boyfriend still managed to score the winning goal in overtime and win team USA the top spot on the podium.

Now, four whole years later, Louis and Harry are still going strong against all odds, and Harry is more than ready to destroy his boyfriend’s team this time and get his own team the coveted gold medal back.

If anything, his hunger for victory has only grown along with their relationship over the past four years, but so has Louis’. They’re both awfully competitive.

Harry’s pulled away from his thoughts when Louis climbs into bed next to him. He’s wearing sweatpants and nothing else, and Harry can’t help but think about how good he looks like this, his toned abs and chest tattoos on full display.

“Think I’m all set now,” he says, settling in bed behind Harry so he can spoon him. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“3 p.m.” Harry turns around in his hold so they’re facing each other. “Car’s coming to pick me up at 11.”

“You’re lucky you get to sleep in,” Louis groans. “I have to be at the airport by 8:30 a.m.”

Harry knows that already, because of course he does, but he just offers Louis a sympathetic nod. “Better get your beauty rest now, then,” he says with a wink.

Louis snorts out a laugh, leaning in to peck Harry’s soft lips. “I’m gonna miss being close with you like this.”

“We’ll manage,” Harry says, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about having to hide their relationship from the world for the next two weeks in China. “We’ve done it once before. I’m sure we’ll find ways to make it work again.”

“Yeah, I think I’m just nervous.” Louis hums, smiling at Harry.

“About what?” Harry asks, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Scared I’ll get the gold this time?”

Louis’ jaw drops in mock offence, and he gives Harry’s left arm a gentle swat. “Watch your mouth, Harold,” he starts, a matching smirk also appearing on his face. “Or should I say watch your net? Because I’m planning on scoring in it.”

“Oh, it’s on!” Harry warns, though there’s no real bite to it. “You’ll regret saying that, babe. I know it.”

“We’ll see about that.” Louis’ mischievous grin turns a little more serious. “I mean I’m nervous about us. I hate that we have to hide like this.”

Harry frowns, turning in Louis’ arms again and pressing his back to Louis’ chest so they’re as close as possible. “It’s only two weeks, babe,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to one of Louis’ hands. “And we’re both quite sneaky. I’m sure we’ll still be able to spend most nights together.”

“Yeah alright,” Louis says with a chuckle. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Harry beams, glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table. “You should really try to get some sleep now, you have to be up in 6 hours if you want to make it to the airport on time.”

Louis groans from behind him, clearly not too enthusiastic about his early wake up time. Harry lets out a small giggle before craning his neck back for one last goodnight kiss. 

“Love you, baby,” Louis says just before sealing their lips together.

Harry smiles into it. “Love you too,” he whispers once Louis pulls back.

It doesn’t take very long for Louis to fall asleep after that (he’s been an easy sleeper for as long as Harry’s known him), but Harry lays awake for a little while, thinking of what the next few days will be like.

A mix of excitement, determination, adrenaline, nervousness, and just a tad bit of fear swirl around in his stomach. 

His first Olympics had been pretty eventful, between all of the excitement surrounding the games, having fun with his teammates, and of course his secret whirlwind romance with the captain of the team with which they entertained the biggest rivalry.

And his second ones are gearing up to be just as interesting.

***

Harry’s dead on his feet by the time he arrives in Beijing. The 15 hour flight he just got off of was brutal, and he didn’t manage to get a wink of sleep.

He’s always hated travel days, but he loathes them even more when he can’t at least have the small comfort of Louis’ presence by his side.

He sat in business class next to his team captain Liam, and although he is one of the nicest guys Harry knows, he’s still no match for Louis. If anything, Harry would say the guy could do with a little more fun. 

They’d had a fair bit of turbulence during the flight (which isn't anybody’s fault really, but still unpleasant), the food was pretty vile (though that was to be expected), and Harry realised he’d forgotten his charger at home when his phone died in the middle of the flight, meaning he was forced to endure the second half without the soothing sounds of the playlist he’d curated especially for the occasion. Then, to top it all off, the line at customs had been excruciatingly long, and the bus that had been arranged to pick them up from the airport was an hour late.

When he finally gets to the Olympic village, he doesn’t even have the energy to take it all in and makes a beeline for his room, thankful he doesn’t have to share it with anyone this time around. 

Harry leaves his luggage by the door and collapses on the bed as soon as he enters his room, throwing his phone to the side; he’ll worry about finding a charger later. It takes all of thirty seconds for him to fall asleep, instantly dead to the world around him.

He’s woken up an hour later when someone starts pounding at his door. He groans, rolling over in bed and stuffing his head under the pillow. Whoever it is will have to wait. He won’t be ready to interact with other human beings until he’s had at least a few more hours of sleep.

The pounding doesn’t relent though – it even gets louder and more insistent. When whoever is at the door clearly isn't willing to give up, Harry untangles his heavy limbs from the sheets and forces himself to walk to the door.

“I’m coming!” He shouts, voice hoarse and raw. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath.

He opens the door a little too forcefully, ready to throw a fit at the member of staff or teammate on the other side. 

All the fight goes out of him when he finds Louis standing there, brows furrowed with worry.

“Harry!” Louis stage whispers as he pushes into the room. “God dammit, I thought you’d been kidnapped or something!”

Harry’s exhausted brain struggles to follow Louis’ words. “What? I-”

“I knew you were supposed to arrive a few hours ago,” Louis cuts him off. “But you never texted to say you’d landed and you didn’t answer when I tried calling you.”

Harry stands there, pigeon-toed as he watches his boyfriend pace around the room, making him slightly dizzy. “I forgot my phone charger at home,” is all he manages to supply. 

Louis nods in understanding, but the pacing doesn’t stop. “I was so worried, babe, so I bribed the staff so they’d tell me your room number. It took you so long to answer I almost got caught by your team captain! Close call!”

“You what?” Harry asks, trying to wrap his head around what Louis just said. “Louis, will you stop pacing, please? You’re making me dizzy!”

Louis stops in his tracks, turning around and getting a good look at his boyfriend for the first time since he barged in.

“You look like shit.”

Harry scoffs, stepping closer to Louis for a hug. “Thanks for the compliment,” he says sarcastically as Louis wraps his arms around him.

Harry melts into the embrace, letting all his frustration and worries melt away. Louis’ here, with him. He’ll make it all better.

“I’m exhausted,” he mutters as he presses his face in the crook of Louis’ neck. “Couldn’t sleep on the plane.”

“You poor thing. I’m sorry,” Louis coos, directing him back to the large bed in the middle of the room. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

Harry lets Louis manhandle him until he’s laying down again, his head resting softly on Louis’ chest.

His boyfriend is looking at him with a fond smile when he cranes his neck to look at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Louis says before giving Harry a quick peck on the lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry mumbles back, already feeling himself drifting back to sleep now that he’s comfortable in bed with Louis.

“Sweet dreams, honey.”

***

After spending their first day in China hiding away in Harry’s room and sleeping off the jet lag, they have to separate for practice with their respective teams. 

Harry reluctantly lets Louis discreetly leave his room early that morning, before any of his teammates that are on the same floor are awake to notice he had a secret guest over. 

It isn’t long before they meet each other again, although they can’t really speak to each other this time. 

Apparently, both of their teams scheduled practices at the same time, and Harry feels a small smirk pull at the corners of his lips when he sees Louis enter the changing rooms just before him once their hour of ice time comes to an end.

They exchange soft smiles as they change out of their hockey gear on their respective sides of the room, Harry nodding along to whatever his teammates are saying next to him and hoping they don’t notice the way his eyes are glued to the opposite’s team captain.

Harry can’t help it. Even in his bulky padded uniform, Louis looks smoking hot. He looks even hotter when he’s taking it off though, and Harry finds it hard to look away when his shirt finally comes off to reveal his tattoos. 

He comes up with some half-assed excuse when the rest of his team teases him for being so slow today, and tells them not to wait for him – he’ll meet up with them later for dinner.

It looks like Louis has done the same, and they soon find themselves completely alone in the changing room.

“I should take a shower. I’m all sweaty,” Louis says, one hand pointing behind him to the showers while his eyes don’t leave Harry’s for one second. “Care to join me?”

Harry can feel his cock stir in his boxers from the implications alone. “I’d love to,” he rasps out, quickly discarding the last of his equipment before following Louis to the showers.

They cram themselves together in one stall, Harry shutting the flimsy curtain behind them and praying it’ll stay shut should anyone enter the room while they’re in here. 

“Were you good at practice?” Louis asks in a tone that’s familiar to Harry, and Harry alone. He wants to play. “Did you do a good job protecting your net?”

Harry nods, a moan dying in his throat as Louis drops to his knees in front of him. “I did, I promise!”

“I think you deserve a reward then,” Louis suggests, his hands roaming dangerously high on Harry’s thighs. “Do you want one?”

“Fuck,” Harry groans, placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders to appease his need to touch Louis, to feel his warm skin under his fingertips. “Yes, please.”

“You have to be really quiet though? Can you do that for me?” 

One of Louis’ hands gently wraps around the base of his aching cock, and Harry swallows back the scream that’s threatening to spill from his lips. He has to be good.

“I can do that,” Harry whispers. “I can be good.”

Louis doesn’t wait another second before lowering his mouth around Harry’s throbbing member. Harry throws his head back, his left hand flying out to hold himself against the tile wall. 

Louis’ mouth feels incredible on him, warm and tight and oh so wonderful. He looks just as sinful as he feels, lips stretched obscenely around the head of Harry’s cock as he slowly slides down until the tip hits the back of his throat ever so gently.

He pulls back just a little, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes as he bobs up and down with energy Harry didn’t know was possible to possess after an hour long hockey practice. 

Harry is almost embarrassed by how little time it takes for him to get so close to the edge, but Louis’ lips feel heavenly on him, and the knowledge that they are essentially in public is enough to make him weak in the knees.

“Lou,” he whines out in warning, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible despite how lost in pleasure he feels. 

Louis only blinks up at him and moves one hand up to fondle his balls, recognizing all of Harry’s tells after four years of taking him apart multiple times a week. 

Harry comes in seconds, spilling down Louis’ throat as the other man works him through his orgasm.

It’s only once he pulls away that Harry notices Louis is jerking himself off with his free hand, and he reaches down to help him finish off. He isn’t far from coming either, from the look of things, and it only takes a few strokes of Harry’s hand to tip him over the edge.

They’re both panting once Louis comes down from his high, and Harry reaches behind him to turn the shower on and clean the sweat and come off of their bodies.

They make out like teenagers under the spray of water, both giddy with the knowledge that they just got away with having a quickie in the shower after practice.

Harry hopes this won’t be the last time.

***

Before he knows it, the day of his first actual game is here.

Harry wakes up alone in his bed, wearing one of Louis’ old t-shirts as a small comfort. Louis’ team is also playing their first game this morning, and neither of them could risk getting caught with the other on such an important day. 

Louis’ game started much earlier than his own, and Harry’s suiting up just before getting on the ice when his phone pings with a text from Louis. He casually picks it up, his poker face not budging in the slightest as he reads the text and celebrates internally after learning that the USA beat Finland 5-2, and that Louis managed to score two goals. 

The American team may be Harry’s biggest rival, but he will still always be over the moon every time the love of his life wins a game. He sends back a quick reply, adding a string of heart emojis for good measure before tucking his phone into the pocket of his equipment bag and slipping his leg pads on.

Nervous energy thrums through his veins as he puts his helmet on before exiting the room along with his teammates. He knows their team is easily among the best, but he can’t help but feel a little anxious – after they lost the gold to the USA four years ago, there is a lot on the line for them to win this time around.

This may only be a first round game, but Harry is hungry for victory, and he’s made a promise to himself to do his absolute best to help his team win every game they play this time around.

He finds himself scanning the crowd as he gets on the ice and starts stretching in front of his net. There’s a full audience in the arena, including fans of both Canada and Switzerland – the team they’re playing against today. The Canadian supporters are already particularly vocal, cheering loudly and waving flags around even though the game hasn’t started yet. Harry always loves to see how passionate his people are about hockey.

He gasps when his eyes land on a familiar figure, one he’s gotten pretty intimate with over the past four years. Louis is sitting alone in the stands, changed out of his USA gear so he doesn’t get recognized too easily.

A small smile settles on Harry’s face at the thought that Louis came to cheer him on, giving him one more reason to give his absolute best today. He gets his game face on, ready for the game to start.

His teammates seem to be just as determined to win as he is, and they manage to rack up five goals in the first period alone while Harry keeps the other team from scoring a single one. 

Harry steals a quick glance in Louis’ direction as he drinks from his water bottle during the first intermission. He’s looking right back at him, as Harry suspected, and he’s wearing a proud smile that makes Harry’s heart burst with happiness and love.

“Styles?”

Harry snaps himself away from Louis and focuses his gaze on whoever is talking to him. It turns out to be his coach, and Harry internally curses at himself for getting distracted.

“Sorry, I was in my head. What?”

“Good job there,” his coach says, giving him a rough pat on the back. “Are you good to do that again next period?”

Harry nods. “Of course!”

The coach nods back, and Harry chances one more glance Louis’ way before he has to get back on the ice. His boyfriend is now smirking like he knows Harry almost just got caught out.

Harry shakes his head, taking one last sip of water before getting back to his net.

The rest of the game goes by quickly, with his team scoring four goals in the second period and three more in the third, while the Swiss team only manages to get the puck in Harry’s net once at the start of the last period, meaning team Canada managed a whooping 12-1 win.

Harry tries to locate Louis again after the game, eager to rejoice in his victory with him, but he can’t seem to find him. He texts him once he gets back to the changing room, but frowns when he still hasn’t answered by the time he’s changed and in the car back to his hotel.

All of his questions are answered when he steps into his room and finds Louis waiting on the bed for him.

“You’re lucky I didn’t invite people over to celebrate that win,” Harry says, leaving his bag by the door and joining Louis. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

Louis is wearing the fondest of smiles as he leans in to seal their lips together. “I knew you’d want to celebrate with me,” he says softly. “We both won today.”

Harry nods, kissing Louis again with a little more intention this time. When Louis pushes him on his back and places an arm on each side of his head to hover over him, Harry gladly lets him, and they kiss this way for a few more minutes before Harry breaks them apart.

“Want you, please,” he whines, still feeling high on adrenaline after today’s win and knowing the only thing that’ll be able to settle him is Louis.

Louis smirks, lowering his lips to suck a love bite onto Harry’s collarbone. Good thing his jersey will cover that. 

“Love when you’re like this, baby,” Louis whispers, already helping Harry remove his shirt so he can have full access to his chest to do as he pleases. “So needy.”

“Need you in me,” Harry moans as Louis gently bites one of his nipples. “It’s been too long.”

Louis scoffs, stopping his teasing to look at Harry again with a knowing smirk. “It’s barely been a week, honey,” he says. “But I agree we both deserve to have a little fun, don’t you think?”

Harry nods eagerly, opening his mouth to reply when Louis sneaks a dry finger to his hole, making him groan loudly with want.

Louis laughs softly, pulling away from him for a few seconds to grab the lube from Harry’s bag. He’s only gone for a few seconds, but Harry instantly feels the absence of Louis’ skin on his, and he takes the opportunity to take the rest of his clothes off in preparation.

“Baby,” Louis coos when he gets back in bed. The contrast between Harry’s pale naked skin and Louis’ still fully clothed body is apparent. “Can’t believe how gorgeous you are.”

Harry blushes under the compliment, tugging at Louis’ shirt until he gets the hint and lifts it over his head. He can almost feel himself salivate at the sight of Louis’ golden skin. He has no idea how his boyfriend manages to stay so tan even in the midst of winter, but he certainly isn’t going to complain about it when he looks this edible.

He’s still admiring Louis when he hears the well-known sound of a lube bottle being opened, and he snaps his gaze up to watch Louis drizzle some over three of his fingers, shivering in anticipation of what’s to come.

Louis seals their lips together as his fingers trail down between his legs, swallowing down Harry’s moan when the first two digits breach his hole.

It’s a bit of a tight stretch, but the burn feels familiar and Harry loves that Louis knows him so well to know to skip right ahead to two fingers.

Louis scissors his fingers inside of him, his fingertips barely grazing his prostate in a way that makes electricity shoot up Harry’s spine. 

A third finger gets added at the same time as Louis pinches one of his nipples, and Harry lets out a surprised yelp as his toes curl with pleasure.

“You did so well today, Haz,” Louis says, voice sultry and honey sweet. “Guarded your goal so well.”

Harry moans again, going crazy with the praise that’s so easily falling from Louis’ lips. 

Louis scissors his fingers in him a few more times before pulling them out and wiping them on his tracksuit bottoms before pulling them off. Harry would roll his eyes if that didn’t mean he was about to get thoroughly fucked. Louis always gets particularly rough after a win, and Harry knows he’s in for a treat.

Finally, after what feels like ages to Harry, Louis sinks into him. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, his hips flushed with Harry’s cheeks.

“Shit,” Louis groans, hands settling on Harry’s hips to steady him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, hands clawing at Louis’ back as he tries to ground himself when Louis makes him feel so damn full, hitting all of the right spots.

“You okay, baby?” Louis asks when he still hasn’t said a word after a full minute has passed. He’s frowning when Harry finally opens his eyes, his thumbs moving in a slow pattern over his hips to make sure he isn’t hurting.

Harry sucks a sharp breath in, nodding. “I always forget how big you are,” he says, mentally patting himself on the back when that has the desired effect of stroking Louis’ ego and making him smirk. “Come on now, I’m ready.”

Louis doesn’t need to be told twice, and he withdraws almost all the way before forcefully snapping his hips forward again, punching a broken moan out of Harry.

He manages to keep up the pace all the way through, his stamina as a hockey player certainly playing in his favour, and Harry is almost crying with how incredible he feels as he gets closer and closer to the edge with each thrust.

“I’m close, baby,” Louis pants out, and Harry is once again surprised by how in sync they always seem to be. “You with me?”

Harry moans when Louis lands another sharp thrust to his prostate, fisting at the sheets. “Yes, fuck. So close!”

“Come on then, baby,” Louis says, always insisting on making Harry come before he does. “Be a good boy and come for me.”

That’s all it takes for Harry to cross the finish line, come splattering all over his and Louis’ stomachs as he comes untouched between them. 

Louis continues to fuck him through it, chasing his own high. His thrusts soon get a little messy, and he buries himself as deep as possible just before he releases. He promptly collapses on top of Harry, pulling out and rolling over so they’re laying side by side on the bed.

Harry grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together as they both catch their breath after a phenomenal orgasm.

He’s just about to say something when a loud snore cuts him off, and he rolls his eyes when he looks over at Louis and notices he fell asleep already.

He rolls over on his side, snuggling impossibly closer and sighing with contentment. 

Now that Louis has fucked the game time adrenaline out of him, all he wants to do is cuddle with his boy and sleep, so he happily spends the next several hours doing just that.

***

Between early morning training, hockey games at different times of the day, and late night celebrations with their respective teams, it gets increasingly harder for them to see each other after that.

It’s the fifth day of the first round when Harry realises he’s barely talked to Louis in four days.

Sure, they’ve been exchanging good morning and good night texts, as well as congratulatory messages when each of them wins a game against other opponents, and they pretended to hate each other when their paths crossed yesterday in the gym, but those don’t really count.

He had an afternoon game again today – which his team won by a landslide, unsurprisingly – and the whole team insisted on going out to celebrate their success so far. 

They’ll be taking on team USA tomorrow, and Harry can tell everyone is a little anxious to see how things will pan out, himself included.

They all get a little tipsy to quell their nerves, but not drunk enough to have hangovers the next day. They do need to tip the odds in their favour, after all.

Harry is feeling pleasantly buzzed by the time they all get back to their rooms, and just reckless enough to attempt to sneak into Louis’ room tonight.

He waits a few minutes once all of his teammates have retreated to their rooms before quietly slipping out of his own.

Louis’ team is staying in a different complex, but it’s only a short walk away from his, and he’s gently knocking on his boyfriend’s door within minutes.

Louis opens the door after only a few seconds, and Harry melts at the sight of him. His hair looks soft and messy, falling across his forehead, and he’s wearing one of Harry’s hoodies that’s slightly too big on him. Harry is endlessly endeared.

“Hey,” he says softly as he walks in the room, shutting the door behind himself before engulfing Louis in a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Louis replies, the sound muffled in Harry’s chest, and Harry loosens his grip on him with a chuckle.

“I also have trouble sleeping without you,” Harry reveals sheepishly, making a fond smile appear on Louis’ face. “And tomorrow’s a big day, so I’m going to need my beauty sleep.”

Louis’ smile turns into a smirk. “Does it have anything to do with the fact we’re playing against each other?”

He’s already guiding them to the bed, and Harry follows easily, eager for a cuddle.

“Maybe?” He answers with a giggle as they fall in bed together. 

Louis laughs as he situates himself behind Harry, spooning him as usual.

All of Harry’s stress melts away as he lets Louis hold him, and he lifts the arm Louis is resting across his stomach up to his face to leave a soft peck to the back of his hand.

Louis kisses the back of his neck in return, and Harry can’t help how at he and content he feels right now.

Whatever happens tomorrow, he knows he’ll always have Louis, and that’s all he needs really.

***

Sleeping in Louis’ bed means Harry has to wake up extra early the next morning to avoid coming face to face with any of Louis' teammates when he silently escapes to get back to his own room.

It’s worth it though, or so Harry tells himself as he presses one last kiss to Louis’ forehead before he leaves. 

His boyfriend is still blissfully asleep, having slept through Harry’s alarm, and Harry is only a little jealous.

He’s almost made it to his own room without interruption when Liam steps out into the hallway. He’s looking very peppy for such an early hour, fully dressed in athletic gear and Harry assumes he's going for a run.

“Harry?” Liam looks at him with a puzzled frown. “What are you doing out here?”

Harry wracks his tired, fuzzy brain for any plausible response. “I was just about to go out for a run!” He says with a little too much enthusiasm in his voice. “Just like you!”

Liam’s frown only deepens. “Dressed like this?” He asks, gesturing to the skinny jeans Harry is still wearing from last night.

Harry looks down at his attire, making a show of face palming himself. “Silly me! I’m still so tired I must have forgotten to put on proper running pants!”

Liam raises an eyebrow at him, but the small smirk that’s pulling at the corners of his mouth indicates Harry may just be able to get away with this.

“You go change then,” he says, pointing to Harry’s room two doors down. “I’ll wait for you, we can run together!”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Harry assures him, silently praying Liam will let it go. He was hoping to slip back in bed for a few more hours of kip.

Liam waves him off. “Don’t be silly, it’s no problem! I’ll be right here when you’re ready!”

“Oh okay, then!” He says as he fishes his key card from his back pocket. “Thanks, Liam!”

The groan he lets out as soon as the door shuts behind him is almost inhuman. 

Harry can only hope Liam will take it easy on him, although something tells him he may not be so lucky.

***

Harry’s already in front of his net when Louis steps on the ice along with the rest of his team.

He’s always been amazed by the way Louis moves on his skates; graceful and in control, yet powerful and strong. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it for too long today, not when this game is this important.

His team has won every other game they've played so far, which means they’ll be moving on to the quarterfinals regardless of the way this game ends. Still, they have to win and prove to these arrogant Americans that their win four years ago was a simple stroke of luck, Louis included.

Harry is laser-focused the whole game, his eyes glued to the puck and not on Louis, who seems intent on making life difficult for Harry by spending most of his time on ice making laps in front of Harry’s net and pulling goofy faces at him.

Harry doesn’t let himself get distracted – he’s become a pro at ignoring Louis when he’s being annoying – and the first period ends without anyone being able to get past his defences to score. His teammates have only scored a single goal though, because the American goalie is almost as good as Harry. Almost.

The second period starts after a short intermission, and Harry is determined to have it end the same way the first period did: with a flawless record on his part.

He watches as both teams expertly steal the puck from each other, skates and sticks moving so fast across the icy surface you’d miss it if you only blinked.

Harry cheers from his spot at the other end of the arena when their captain, Liam, manages a spectacular shot that easily blows past the USA’s goalie’s guard and ends up in the net. 

Team Canada has now scored two goals, while the American team is still at a deceiving zero. If Harry were a betting man, he’d say Louis must be seething with rage right about now.

And right Harry is, judging by the speed and intensity his boyfriend uses to charge towards him when he finally gets his hands on the puck a few minutes later, flames in his eyes as he skillfully handles the puck across the ice.

The Canadian defenders may be quick and agile, but Louis is faster and sharper, managing to get past them with practiced ease.

Harry braces himself as Louis aims for a shot, trying to make himself as square as possible in front of the net to cover more real estate.

After four years of playing together in their backyard, Louis knows all of his weaknesses and tells, and he angles his stick just right to send the puck flying at high speeds into the upper right corner of the net. Harry reaches up to catch it, but misses by a mere centimetre. 

“Fuck!” He yells out as he crumples to the ground, head hanging in frustration. 

Louis, on the other hand, looks pretty fucking proud of himself as his teammates join him in a huddle to celebrate the goal.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he hears someone approach him. “Get back up.”

It’s Liam, and Harry takes the hand he’s extending out to him to haul himself back to his feet. Harry may not have a whole lot in common with Liam, but he can’t deny he’s perfect for the role of captain.

“Come on, get your spirits back up!” Liam says before skating away.

If only he knew that Harry wasn’t this defeated because of a simple goal, but mostly because of the fact that his boyfriend scored in his net.

He’s still a little in his head when the game resumes, and he tries to will his eyes to follow the puck, but his mind keeps drifting to the way Louis just tricked him.

There are seconds to spare in the second period when one of the forwards from the US team manages to get through his defence in a very similar way to what Louis did minutes prior and takes a shot at him.

Harry leaps backward, stomach sinking when he narrowly misses it again and the puck touches the net at the exact same time as the buzzer announces the end of the period.

“God fucking dammit,” he curses, throwing his stick to the ground and punching the left post of his net. 

He isn’t usually one to show his irritation externally and in such an aggressive manner, but he’s so angry with himself right now he doesn’t actually care who sees.

After taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he picks his hockey stick up and heads toward the bench for intermission.

“Everything okay, Styles?” One of the defenders asks him when he joins them.

Great, now his teammates are doubting him on top of everything. Just what he needed.

“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”

They leave him alone after that, and he spends the rest of the intermission drinking from his bottle of Gatorade (it’s orange, Harry’s least favourite flavour, which only makes him more annoyed) and psyching himself up.

If his team has any chance of winning this game, he’s going to have to step up for the last period. They’re currently tied 2-2 with team USA, and Harry knows he can't let any more pucks penetrate his net until the game ends.

By the time the third period starts, Harry is ready. He’s ready to guard his net like his damn life depends on it, and he hopes and prays his team will be able to score big this period so they won’t have to take this to overtime. Harry hates overtime.

His prayers are soon answered, and he successfully manages to block seven shots in the first ten minutes while his team pushes forward to score a third goal.

They have a one point advance, but they can’t get too comfortable just yet. Maintaining their small lead during the last ten minutes will be crucial.

There are five minutes left on the clock when Louis comes barreling towards him again, the same intense look on his face as when he managed to score his first goal in Harry’s net.

He manages to sneak past the defenders once more, and Harry narrows his gaze and zeroes in on the puck, ready to move at the speed of light the second it moves again.

Just as Louis lifts his stick to take a shot, the left defender swoops in and steals it in one smooth motion before promptly sending it off to the other side of the rink where their centre player is waiting to catch it.

Taking advantage of the surprise that seems to have stunned most of the Americans, he quickly aims and shoots.

Harry holds his breath as he watches the puck fly towards the opponent’s net, barely grazing the goalie’s right mitt before passing it and entering the net.

Harry shoots forward, meeting his teammates halfway across the ice to celebrate the goal with them. 

He briefly looks to his right just in time to catch Louis shaking his head in disbelief, traces of surprise and annoyance on his features.

The rest of the game is pretty uneventful again, and the Canadian team shortly celebrates their 4-2 win before shaking hands with the US players.

There’s a small smirk on Louis’ face when Harry gets to him, and Harry knows it’s because he managed to score in his net.

Harry shrugs it off, certain he’ll hear more about it later. For now, though, he’s got a win to celebrate, and he intends on doing just that tonight.

***

Come to my room?

Harry’s just finished his second beer when he texts Louis to see if he’s up for spending the rest of the night together. 

After this afternoon’s victory, the whole team had gone out for dinner and drinks, all eager to celebrate the first of many steps in them reclaiming the gold medal from the American team during these Olympic games.

The text shows as read almost immediately, and the three dots indicating that Louis is typing on the screen show up right after.

Sure, are you drunk?

Harry stifles a laugh at Louis’ forward response.

No, I’m on my way.

Louis sends him back a thumbs up, and Harry turns his attention back to his teammates again, making up some half-assed excuse about a headache before slipping away to go back to his room.

He’s the first to leave the bar, which means no one will be around to catch Louis sneaking into his room for the night.

It’s a coincidence that Louis steps in the elevator a second after him, and Harry smiles fondly and kisses him just as the doors close behind them.

Louis is pouting when he pulls away, and Harry frowns. “What’s wrong, love?”

“We lost!”

Harry can’t help but smile. “I know you did, because we beat you.”

Louis slaps him across the chest. “Hey,” he whines, drawing out the vowel. Then, a small smirk of his own replaces the pout on his pretty face. “I scored in your net, though.”

It’s Harry’s turn to pout now; he had almost forgotten about that.

“Don’t pout, honey,” Louis says, voice saccharine sweet as he thumbs at Harry’s lower lip. “You’re just a bit too slow for me.”

Harry gasps. The door to the elevator opens and they exit on Harry’s floor. 

“How about you let me ride you?” Harry suggests, voice dropping so low he wouldn’t be sure Louis even heard him had it not been for the way his neck snapped to look at him. “I’ll make you eat your words.”

“Baby,” Louis drawls out as Harry unlocks the door and they both tumble inside. “You’re filthy.”

Louis presses him against the back of the door, attacking his lips with his own and moving to undress them as quickly as possible. His hands settle on Harry’s waist once they’re both finally naked, and he pushes Harry backward until he reaches the bed.

Before he can be thrown down on it though, Harry gets a hold of Louis’ forearms and flips them around, pushing Louis down until he’s sitting up against the headboard. 

“Let me give you a show.”

Louis groans, clearly interested by the way events are unfolding. “Honey, you’re spoiling me.”

Harry retrieves the lube from his bag and smirks as he settles on his knees at the end of the bed, facing away from Louis and arching his back in a way he knows makes his bum look phenomenal.

He twists his upper body when he feels one of Louis’ hands on his hip, and he raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend with an air of defiance. “No touching,” he says. “Not yet.”

Louis sighs as he gets pushed back towards the other end of the bed again. “Tease,” he mutters, though all it does is spur Harry on.

Harry uses slow and sensual movements to coat his fingers with lube before reaching behind him to prepare himself. He lets his index finger circle his rim a few times before inserting the tip and progressively pushing the rest in. He slides it out and back in again a few times before pulling it out all the way and going back in with two digits. The stretch burns in a way Harry adores, and he scissors his fingers inside of himself until he meets little resistance.

He can tell Louis is still looking from the gasp he produces when Harry slips his ring finger in alongside the first two. Harry cranes his neck back, smirking when he sees that Louis is slowly jerking himself off. He’s glad he’s enjoying the view.

Once he deems himself correctly prepared, he turns around and crawls up the bed until he reaches Louis.

“Have I told you lately how incredibly hot you are?” Louis asks, placing one hand at the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him down until their lips meet in a heated, needy kiss. “Because you’re so sexy it should be illegal.”

Harry breathes out a laugh, straddling Louis’ thighs and looking down at his hard cock. He uses whatever amount of lube is leftover on his hand to slick Louis up, smirking when his boyfriend hisses upon initial contact.

Once Louis’ cock is glistening with just enough lube, Harry repositions himself so he’s hovering over the tip of it, using his strong thigh muscles to hold himself up as he looks at Louis to see his reaction.

The look on Louis’ face when Harry starts sinking down will probably be carved into his brain until the day he dies. His head is thrown back against the pillows, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut as his hands tightly grip Harry’s hips.

Harry takes his time sinking down, enjoying the fullness that always comes with this particular position. He stills once he bottoms out completely, resting his full weight on Louis and smirking at the broken groan that elicits from the other man. He sucks in a deep breath to ground himself, though he feels so full he’s uncertain where the air will go.

He swivels his hips a few times, moaning when the tip of Louis’ cock grazes his prostate and sends sparks of electricity up his spine. He bends forwards to kiss Louis, humming in satisfaction at the new angle. The kiss is wet and messy, and Harry pulls away after a bit, ready to fuck the daylights out of Louis. 

He braces himself on Louis’ chiselled abs and pulls himself up, never fully lifting off of Louis’ dick before slamming back down. His prostate gets hit head-on on every thrust in, and his painfully hard dick is bobbing between the two of them.

The sound of skin against skin and loud moans soon fill the room as both Louis and Harry chase their respective orgasms, the former planting his feet flat on the bed and snapping his hips up into Harry when he notices his boyfriend’s thighs are starting to shake from sheer pleasure alone.

Harry jolts when Louis wraps one hand around his cock, and their eyes meet for an instant. Harry can tell Louis is close to the edge, and he knows Louis can tell the same from him.

They both double down their efforts to get there, and both come at the same time within seconds, Harry shooting his load across Louis’ chest, while Louis fills him with his come. 

He stays put until both of them have ridden their highs, then unceremoniously pulls off and falls on his back next to Louis with a thud.

Louis is gracious enough to get a washcloth from the bathroom this time, and Harry winces slightly when he uses it to gently clean him off, still feeling sensitive after their intense love-making session.

“I’ll let you win every time if it gets me fucked this well,” Louis jokes when he returns after discarding the washcloth. 

Harry laughs, rolling over on his side and puckering his lips until Louis gives him a soft kiss. “Deal.”

***

The third period has only just begun when Harry silently slides into an empty seat between two couples to watch the end of the quarter final match between the American and Czech teams.

He meant to come to watch the whole game, but got caught up with some of his teammates and got roped into going to lunch with them, making him miss two thirds of the game. He’s a little annoyed about it, but he’s here now, and that’s all that matters.

The US is leading 3-0 going into the last twenty minutes, and Harry feels confident Louis will be in a great mood for the rest of the day after a successful win.

Louis isn’t currently on the ice, but Harry’s eyes easily spot him on the bench, looking so handsome in his full uniform, even with his helmet shielding most of his face.

Harry zones in on the game that’s unfolding before him, always eager to watch a good hockey match when he isn’t the one actually playing on the ice.

The Czech team manages to score a sneaky goal against the US goaltender, and although Harry knows better than anyone else how defeating that can feel, Louis’ team is still on track for a smooth victory, and they seem to know that by the confident grins on their faces.

Everything goes pretty smooth and standard until the last two minutes, when Louis cleverly manages to snag the puck from the other team and skates all the way to the other end of the rink to attempt a shot.

Louis is one of the best centre players Harry has seen in his whole career, and he rarely ever misses, so Harry holds his breath as he watches Louis analyse the situation before effortlessly swinging his body back and sending the puck flying forward until it connects with the back of the net in a neat and clear goal.

Then, almost as fast as Louis managed to score and before he even has the time to celebrate said goal, there’s a fist connecting with the side of his gorgeous face, and Harry looks up just in time to see the Czech player Louis took the puck from tackling him to the ground in a way that’s clearly intentional.

Harry gasps, feeling helpless on the sidelines as he watches his boyfriend fall on the ice, time moving almost in slow motion until he gets back up to get back to the guy with a matching punch.

His opponent is quicker though, and Louis gets another rough hit to the face before the referee intervenes and separates them.

He thinks the other player gets some very much deserved time in the penalty box, but all Harry can see or think about is the blood that’s trickling from Louis’ nose down his face, and the bruise that’s already starting to form by his right eye.

Louis is led off the ice by another player, and Harry shoots out of his seat before he can think better of it. He runs down to the changing rooms, only stopping when some sense literally gets knocked into him when he runs into a burly member of the Olympic staff, looking down at him with a less than impressed expression.

“ID?” The man asks.

Harry swallows and turns on his heels. “Sorry, I made a wrong turn!” he throws over his shoulder as he hurries up the stairs again.

There’s clearly no way he can see Louis right now, even though every fibre of his being is screaming at him to make sure his boyfriend is alright.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and takes a second to think. He’s almost certain Louis will want to go straight to his room after that, rather than hang out with his team to celebrate the win, so Harry decides he can make himself of use there.

He runs to a nearby store to pick up a few first aid supplies as well as a treat for Louis, and makes his way to the building where his boyfriend is staying, stopping by the ice machine before going up to his room.

As he expected, Louis is already there when Harry knocks at his door, and he cracks a small smile when he sees him.

Luckily, he looks a lot better from up close. His nose has already stopped bleeding and it doesn’t look like it’s broken, and although his eye is slightly bruised and purple, it isn’t nearly as bad as Harry was expecting.

Still, “Oh baby,” he coos, gently bringing one hand up to Louis’ face to inspect his injury. “I brought you some ice.”

Louis’ face lights up the slightest bit when Harry brandishes the bag of ice, and Harry pushes him to sit on the bed as he wraps a few ice cubes in one of the towels from Louis’ bathroom.

“I wasn’t expecting to have to beat up anyone during these Olympics,” Harry says casually as he walks back to the bedroom. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Louis laughs a little at his comment, then winces when Harry presses the ice to his bruised eye. “A little warning next time, please Harold.”

“Sorry.” Harry gives him a sheepish smile, sitting next to Louis on the bed and letting him hold the towel on his own.

“Also,” Louis turns to give him a menacing glare. “You won’t be beating up anyone.”

Harry scoffs. “But look what he did to my baby!” He says, though his voice holds barely any bite. “Nobody can get away with that.”

“And he got the penalty he deserved,” Louis reasons with him. “Plus, we won, so there’s that too.”

He breaks out into the widest of grins as he says it, and it makes Harry’s heart swell inside of his chest.

“That you did!” Harry gets up again to dig through the plastic bag from the store. “I got you a little treat to celebrate!”

“Baby, you’re the best,” Louis says the second Harry hands him the candy bar he picked out for him. “I think I may be in love with you.”

Harry snorts. “That’s good because I think I may be as well.”

“I’m a lucky man, then, aren’t I?” Louis takes the ice off his face to wink at Harry.

“You sure are.” Harry playfully shakes his head at him and presses the ice towel back to his bruise. “Now keep that on there. I’d rather not have to see that bruise for longer than necessary.”

Louis laughs again before biting into his treat. “Yes, sir!”

***

The rest of the quarter finals fly by with whooping victories for both Louis and Harry’s teams, and the semi finals roll around before either of them realise. Only two games left until they find out which team will take home the gold this time around.

It’s tradition for the teams to go to the other semi final match in order to suss out their next opponent, as they'll be playing against the winning team during the finals should they win – and they will.

The tradition holds a little more meaning to Harry though, not that he can really tell anyone about it. Not only is he sussing out the other teams, but he also gets to watch Louis do what he does best on the ice from the sidelines.

They’re playing a morning match against Finland, and although they’re a decent enough team and they’ve had a pretty good run so far these Olympics, Harry has no doubt the Americans will easily overpower them. They are second best in the field after all, after Harry and the Canadian team, of course.

He and his teammates have just sat down when the game begins, Louis front and centre on the rink for the first puck drop.

Harry can’t take his eyes off him the entire match, his boyfriend looking so at ease and strong on the ice. Louis was clearly born to be a hockey player, and he takes his team captain title very seriously. He’s a natural leader, always the first to congratulate a teammate after scoring a goal, but also always quick to give a reassuring pat on the back and a smile when maybe things didn’t work out quite as well.

Harry can tell the whole team looks up to Louis, just like they do with Liam, and that alone has pride blooming in Harry’s chest. 

As expected, the Americans do amazingly, securing two solid goals in the first period alone. While the US team may be Harry’s team’s biggest rival, Harry can’t help but always root for his boyfriend to win as well, and he finds himself having to work to remain neutral whenever someone scores or deftly steals the puck from the Finnish players, attempting to match the scowls most of his teammates are sporting as they watch.

That gets increasingly difficult when Louis himself gets a goal in during the second period, and all Harry wants to do is scream and jump in celebration. He contains his joy to a quiet squeal, smiling to himself as Louis and the rest of his team celebrate their now three point advance.

Unsurprisingly, the game ends with a 4-1 win for team USA, meaning the chances of yet another US-Canada final match taking place is sky high, pending Harry’s team win their own match this afternoon.

While the rest of his team file out of the arena, having heated discussions about strategic plays for their upcoming game, Harry stays back.

As captain, he knows Louis is always adamant about being the last to leave the locker room, regardless of the game’s outcome, so no one gets left behind and everyone feels part of the team.

So Harry quietly tucks himself into a nearby corner, and waits as the players leave one by one until he’s certain Louis is the only one left.

Making sure no one sees him, he sneaks past the barrier that reads “Athletes only beyond this point”, thanking the Gods above he remembered to wear his own Olympic gear for this very reason, and makes a dash for the changing room.

He runs into Louis just as he’s about to cross the threshold, and Harry uses one hand to push him back into the room again, the other making sure the door is closed and locked behind them in case anyone comes looking for Louis.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks, eyes wide in surprise yet soft for Harry, always soft for his boy.

His hair is still wet from his shower, and Harry inhales the fresh, crisp scent of Louis’ body wash as he runs his fingers through the messy locks.

Their lips smash together as Harry crowds Louis’ space, and the man groans into it as he drops the equipment bag he was carrying to get a hold of Harry, one of his hands resting at the back of his neck while the other not so subtly squeezes one of Harry’s arsecheeks through his jogging bottoms.

“Lou,” Harry whines, want slowly building up inside his chest.

“Were you watching the whole time?” Louis mumbles against his lips. “Did you like what you saw?” He adds on after Harry nods his reply to his first question.

“Yeah,” Harry moans when Louis’ lips travel lower to suck a deep mark on his neck. “Always love watching you play.”

That seems to fuel Louis even more, and he dots a few more marks around Harry’s neck and shoulders before moving back up to kiss him again. Harry is certain he’ll have a grand old time hiding them from his teammates later.

Louis pushes him backward until his back makes contact with the wall, their lips not separating for even one second as the kiss gets more and more heated as the seconds pass.

Then, nothing. Harry can no longer feel Louis’ hands sneaking under his shirt or his lips on his, and he opens his eyes to give Louis a confused look.

His boyfriend is smirking at him, lips pink and plump from their making out session and eyes full of malice.

Harry steps forward, eager to continue where they left off, but Louis takes another step back so he’s just out of reach.

Frowning, Harry tries to approach again only for Louis to do the exact same thing.

“What are you doing?” 

Louis’ smirk doesn’t falter as he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, tapping at the thing that isn't there and shaking his head disapprovingly at Harry.

“You have a game in two hours, honey,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

And Louis’ right is the thing. Harry should probably be getting himself ready for the match, stretching, or talking strategies with his team. Still, it’s no reason to rudely interrupt this when Harry only had the purest, most innocent intentions. 

Ok, maybe not innocent, but still.

“Are you kidding me?” Harry says, raising an eyebrow at Louis’ antics.

Louis shakes his head again, placing a hand in the middle of Harry’s chest to stop him when he tries to approach again. “Don’t you think we should save this for later?” Louis whispers, sounding a lot more sensual than he should have any right to be. “Then we’ll both have something to celebrate.”

And Harry has to admit that sounds good, and he has no doubt the thoughts of what will happen tonight will fuel him to do even better, to earn his reward.

“I’ll be watching you too, you know?” Louis adds when Harry doesn’t answer, knowing exactly what it’ll do to him.

“Fine,” Harry says with an over-exaggerated sigh, keeping up his little facade even though Louis has successfully convinced him. 

“Off you go then,” Louis says, leaning in to softly and chastely peck Harry’s lips before waving him off. “Have a good game!”

And that’s exactly what Harry does.

Except for the three goals the Swiss team manages to score in his net during the match.

His teammates manage to secure ten though, so they still win the game by a landslide, officially confirming they’ll be taking on the USA in the final in two short days.

They decide to meet in Harry’s room once again, since the rest of his team will be out celebrating the victory.

Harry mumbles some half-assed excuse even he wouldn’t believe, ignoring any weird looks from his teammates as he declines their offers to go out with them and slips into his room where Louis is already waiting for him.

In Harry’s humble opinion, Louis always looks hot no matter what, but he looks exceptionally sexy laying on Harry’s king-sized bed in nothing but the hotel-provided dressing gown tied loosely around his slender waist.

“Baby,” Louis says in a low voice when he notices Harry in the room. “What’s with the pout?”

“I let in three goals,” Harry mumbles, flopping down on the bed next to Louis.

Louis chuckles, one of his hands tangling itself in Harry’s hair and moving in soothing motions.

Harry has always been very passionate about guarding his net, and never reacts very well to others scoring in it, even when his team still wins. Some call it delusion, he simply thinks he’s a little too perfectionist. 

“Oh honey,” Louis coos, hooking one hand under Harry’s chin that’s pressed into the mattress to force him to make eye contact. “How many did you block?”

Louis always knows just what to say to make Harry feel better about himself, and he also knows by now his boyfriend is nutty enough to count the shots against him. 

“27,” Harry says, a slight sense of pride blooming in his chest as he thinks of the number.

“See, those three little goals don’t mean anything compared to that, don’t they?” Louis reassures him, leaning in to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“I guess you’re right,” Harry concedes, lifting himself up only to burrow into Louis’ side for a cuddle. 

Louis easily wraps his arms around him, repositioning himself so they’re both lying comfortably on the bed. “There’s my good boy.”

And while their little secret meeting earlier and Louis’ attire would suggest a different ending to the night, they’re both totally content snuggling and holding each other for the rest of the evening.

After all, they’ll certainly have the opportunity to catch up some other time.

***

Both Harry and Louis have a well deserved day off before the final game tomorrow where they’ll have to face off against each other for the gold.

While the two of them are awfully competitive on the rink, neither of them chooses to bring that side of themselves into their personal relationship. Save for a few teasing comments, they don't talk about the match all day, instead choosing to spend their time off in each other’s company and avoiding their teammates. 

The morning flies by in Louis’ room with fleeting kisses and tender touches in bed, lazy lovemaking under the sheets, and room service breakfast shared whilst Harry sits in Louis’ lap in the only available chair in the room.

The sun is just reaching its highest point in the sky when Harry starts to feel restless. Being an athlete means always feeling the need to move and be active, even on days off. 

“Want to go to the gym with me?” 

Louis’ head perks up from where he was scrolling on his phone, and Harry knows he probably feels it too.

“Great idea!”

They both change out of their lounging clothes and into proper working out gear, Harry having to borrow a pair of pants from Louis and only teasing him a tiny bit about how short they appear on him.

Making it to the gym unnoticed is quite the challenge, but they manage to get there without too much trouble.

The facilities are almost empty when they arrive, and they pick out side by side treadmills that look out onto the city from the large windows to start with cardio.

Harry’s fifteen minutes into a steady jog, deep in thought with a carefully curated playlist pumping through his earbuds when he hears someone shout his name. 

“Styles!” The tone alone is enough to have his head turning. 

He blanches when he slows his pace to a stop and his eyes meet Liam’s, along with half a dozen of his other teammates. And Louis is running right next to him, oblivious to the whole thing thanks to his tendency to listen to his music much too loud – Harry always tells him it’ll cause him hearing problems one day, but that’s beside the point.

Because the point is that Harry has no clue how he’ll get out of this one. 

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy now?” One of the guys behind Liam asks, Steven – Harry’s never liked him very much.

Harry makes a show of turning towards Louis and acting surprised. “What the fuck?” He says, throwing his hands in the air in a way he hopes looks convincing. “I didn’t even notice that douchebag got here, too in the zone you know?”

His teammates look a bit perplexed still, so he decides to take it a step further. 

“Hey loser,” Harry says loud enough for Louis to hear him over his headphones. “You trying to spy on me or something?”

“What? H–,” Louis stops in his tracks when he notices Harry glaring between him and the people that have now materialized behind them. “Am I not allowed to run wherever I want? Isn’t this a free country?”

Steven steps in again, and Harry pushes out a sigh of relief at not having to argue further with his boyfriend. “You’re not in America anymore, jackass. And there are literally dozens of other machines you could have chosen. Now move!”

Harry winces at the harsh tone, and he meets Louis’ eyes for a brief moment, and he hopes the other man can see how embarrassed and sorry he is about the situation.

Louis’ eyes soften for a split second before he gathers his things and goes, not sparring another glance at Harry’s teammates before leaving.

“Here, that’s better,” Steven says as he takes the treadmill Louis was previously occupying, the others finding other free ones on either side of them. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, though he can feel his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach as he turns the machine back on and resumes his workout. “Thanks.”

***

Harry feels bad for the rest of the afternoon, cutting his gym session short and lying to his teammates about being almost done anyways.

The fact that Louis has already left when he does also doesn’t sit well with him, and he intends to make it right any way he can.

Meet me outside your building at 6?

Harry fidgets as he waits for a response.

I’m not sure that’s a great idea, maybe we should lay low until we get back home. 

Harry sighs. 

Please? I promise I’ll make it worth it :)

Fine. See you at 6.

Harry lets out a small celebratory squeal at his small victory. 

Wear the nice shirt I packed you.

He spends the rest of his spare time making arrangements over the phone, determined to make tonight feel special and intimate.

By the time 6 o'clock rolls around, Harry is waiting for his boyfriend outside of his building, leaning back against a sleek black car he rented out for the evening.

“You look gorgeous,” he says when Louis appears into view, holding the door open for him to climb in the passenger seat.

“What is this?” Louis asks once Harry slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we deserved a nice dinner together,” Harry says, linking their hands over the middle console.

“Harry,” Louis starts, sounding a bit wary, but Harry cuts him off before he can protest any further. 

“I booked us a table at a restaurant outside of the Olympic village, an Italian place.” Harry smiles when he feels Louis relax a little bit. “I promise we won’t be disturbed again.”

Louis nods, apparently appeased by Harry’s words. “Alright, that sounds nice.”

Their eyes meet for a brief second, and they exchange soft smiles before Harry has to tear his eyes away again to concentrate on the road. 

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” Harry says, lightly squeezing Louis’ hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Louis shakes his head, squeezing Harry’s hand back with a little more force. “It’s not your fault. We both agreed not to tell our teams about our relationship, and tension is to be expected.”

“I still hate it,” Harry says, and he knows Louis feels the exact same way.

“It is what it is.”

That has Harry thinking about Louis’ chest tattoo that reads the same thing, and a dozen more ways to apologise to Louis suddenly pop into his head. He pushes them aside and simply shrugs. That will have to wait until after dinner.

The rest of the evening goes by smoothly with delicious food shared amongst the two of them, easy conversation about every topic under the sun but tomorrow’s match, and, as promised, zero interruptions.

Soon, they are back at Louis’ building where Harry gets invited to come upstairs to his room. They sneak onto Louis’ floor, giggling when they tumble into the room after successfully managing to dodge any obstacles.

They’re both high on life, aided by the bottle of red wine they split at the restaurant, and Harry intends on the rest of the night continuing in that same direction.

“I love this shirt on you,” Harry says in a low voice, tackling Louis against the wall and sealing their lips together in a heated kiss.

Louis moans against his lips. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry smirks. “It would look even better on the floor, though.”

With that said, he uses one hand to unbutton Louis’ shirt with practised ease until it falls to the ground between them. 

“You naughty boy,” Louis says playfully, pushing Harry off of him and guiding him to the bed. 

They don’t waste any more time before stripping themselves of the rest of their clothing, and Harry is on his back in bed, Louis hovering above him and looking positively edible, faster than he can realise. 

“I can’t wait to see your face when we win tomorrow,” Harry teases before craning his neck up to kiss Louis.

The other man groans, and Harry smirks against his lips, already knowing his little comment was going to get this kind of reaction out of his boyfriend.

“You’re going to eat your words tomorrow when I look down at you from the top step of the podium.” Louis plays right back into Harry’s little game. “In fact, I’m going to make you eat them right now, baby.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you now? I’d like to see you– Shit!”

The words die in his throat when Louis pushes two lubed up fingers in his entrance and doesn’t stop until they’re pressed right up against his prostate, making him see stars.

Harry hadn’t even noticed him getting the lube out, but if he knows anything about his boyfriend of four years, it’s that he’s stealth both on and off the ice.

“What was that?” Louis says as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the little shit.

“I said,” Harry musters, exhaling deeply. “I can’t wait to–”

He’s cut short again when Louis pulls his fingers all the way back only to come back at it with three, and Harry can’t help but let out a guttural groan at the burn and stretch he loves so much.

“That’s what I thought,” Louis says, looking so smug it must be hurting his face.

He continues to finger Harry for a few more minutes, scissoring his fingers to stretch him open and punching a few moans and whimpers out of him when the tips of his fingers graze his prostate in just the right way. It both feels like too much and not enough at the same time.

“Louis, please.” Harry feels like he’s burning from the inside out, every inch of his body tingling with electricity and craving more, always more. He’s not above begging if he has to.

Fortunately for him, it looks like that won’t be necessary tonight because Louis takes pity on him and withdraws his fingers for just long enough to slick himself up before filling Harry again, this time with his deliciously thick cock.

“Fuck,” both men moan in unison when Louis initially bottoms out.

“I still can’t wait to beat you tomorrow,” Harry grits out as Louis gives him a moment to adjust, knowing this will fuel Louis into giving him the best shag of his life.

Louis scoffs, pulling his hips back before snapping them forward with all the force he can muster. “We’ll see how you feel when you can barely manage to walk in the morning, let alone skate.”

Louis keeps up a punishing pace the whole way through, and even Harry is impressed by the unwavering strength behind his thrusts. He’s sure to still feel it in the morning, but Harry’s got experience playing with a sore bum from four years of being with Louis, so he’s not all that worried about it affecting his game.

Before long, Harry can feel his orgasm start to build up, and he can tell Louis is right there with him from the look of absolute bliss on his face.

“I’m close,” he moans out when Louis hits his prostate dead-on on another sharp thrust. “Shit.”

“Together,” Louis rasps out, reaching between them to wrap his hand around Harry’s rock hard cock.

Within seconds, Harry’s coming in Louis’ grasp, not even attempting to conceal his moans of pleasure as Louis finishes at the exact same time, hips stilling deep inside of him.

They both fall on their backs on the mattress, working to catch their breaths after what just transpired.

“We should shower,” Louis says after a while, rolling on his side to look at Harry.

Harry copies his move and rolls on his side as well, schooching backwards until his back is pressed flush against Louis’ chest. “Tomorrow.”

“Alright, tomorrow,” Louis agrees easily, swinging one arm over Harry’s waist. 

They’re both sweaty and sticky, and neither of them smell all that great, but Harry doesn’t care. 

And he doesn’t care whether his team wins the game tomorrow either. Because all he needs is right there in this bed with him, and he could not be happier about it.

***

Harry wakes up entirely too early the next morning in order to shower off the remnants of the previous night’s activities before returning to his room before any of his teammates go looking for him.

He tries to be quiet and let Louis sleep, but he can’t say he’s actually mad about it when his boyfriend joins him in the shower.

They exchange quick good luck handjobs and sweet kisses under the hot spray before Harry has to tear himself away. 

At least he has the knowledge that they’ll be seeing each other again very soon to tide him over, this time on the ice. In four hours to be precise, not that Harry’s counting (except for the fact that he totally is).

He’s been in his room for all of five minutes when Liam comes knocking on his door to summon him. Close call , he thinks to himself as he grabs his equipment bag before leaving. 

This is the most important match they’re playing since the last Winter Olympics, and they have to be on top of their game.

His whole team has been waiting for this very moment since they lost in the final four years ago, and Harry is intent on not letting that happen again this time. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure they bring home the gold medal.

The only potential problem is that he knows Louis is just as determined to do the same. He’s just going to have to make sure to stay one step ahead of him at all times. 

Harry can feel the adrenaline thrum through his veins the whole day, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be to tackle this match when he finally steps foot on the ice for the game.

He can clearly feel the soreness in his backside as he does stretches in front of the net, reminding him of the amazing fucking Louis gave him last night, but he brushes past that with ease. Harry is a professional, after all.

He tries his best to avoid staring at Louis, but he finds himself doing so anyway. It’s not his fault his boyfriend just seems to command everyone’s attention when he’s skating – or doing anything else, for that matter – and Harry allows himself to admire him until the referee calls the start of the game.

The audience is absolutely packed, American and Canadian flags strewn on either side of the rink in support of both teams, and Harry feels a sense of pride beam inside of his chest. Harry and his teammates aren’t the only ones that have been waiting for this game for years; in some ways, the whole country has as well. And they did it – they got to the final again. And they’re going to win this time.

The action starts as soon as the whistle announces the official start of the match, and Harry’s eyes remain on the puck as the Canadian and American players deftly exchange it between themselves and steal it from one another. 

Both teams are determined to win, as is apparent in the way neither team can keep the puck for very long. Everyone is at the top of their game, and it shows.

It’s nearing the end of the first period when something significant finally happens. 

One of the American players is skating toward him with the puck using remarkable speed, and Harry is preparing himself to block the shot when one of his defenders swoops in and grabs the puck from him in one smooth motion. He brings it closer to the centre of the rink and, taking advantage of the American players being a little surprised by the turn of events, passes it to Liam who’s waiting further down the ice, in a perfect position to score.

It takes Liam a split second to turn and shoot between the goalie’s legs once the puck hits his stick, and the American goalie ducks down a second too late, the buzzer already loudly announcing the goal.

Harry screams as he skates all the way towards the middle of the ice as fast as his bulky pads allow him to tackle Liam into a hug. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Louis, who was on the bench when the goal occurred, trying to lift his team’s spirits even though he looks thoroughly annoyed himself.

The Canadian team keeps its advantage until the middle of the second period, when one American player manages a sneaky shot in the upper right corner of Harry’s net, which is a weak spot he thought only Louis knew about. He guesses he's going to have to be more careful about that for the rest of the game.

The second period ends 1-1, with no further goals from any of the teams.

Harry can feel his heart beating incredibly hard in his chest as he makes his way to the bench for the second intermission. He sits down at one end of the bench, half listening to what the coaches and his teammates are saying as he tries to calm himself down. He can’t start panicking now, or it might cost them the game, and the last thing Harry wants is a repeat of what happened four years prior.

It seems he isn’t doing a great job of hiding his nerves, because Liam comes to sit next to him a few minutes before the last period is set to start. Harry gratefully accepts the water bottle his captain is extending to him, and he fakes a small smile for him before taking a hearty swig of the cool liquid.

“You alright H?” Liam asks carefully, patting Harry on the back. “You’re looking a bit pale there.”

Harry runs a hand over his face before speaking. “I’m fine,” he says, wincing at how unconvincing he sounds even to his own ears.

“Nervous?”

Harry nods at Liam’s question. “I don’t want to let the whole team down again.” He deflates a little after finally voicing his worries out loud.

“You know none of us blame you for finishing second, right?” When Harry doesn’t acknowledge, Liam frowns and continues. “We lost that game as a team, and we all could have done better.”

Harry still remains silent. He knows Liam is only saying this to be nice, because he has to be. He’s the team’s captain after all.

“I’m serious Harry!” Liam says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Harry nods, biting his lip hesitantly. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters.

It doesn’t mean he won’t beat himself up if he lets it happen again.

“Come on, the third period is about to start,” Liam says, holding one hand out to pull Harry up on his skates. “Remember what I said!” he adds before they separate to take their assigned spots on the rink.

Harry is still on edge for the entire period, keeping his focus on what’s happening in front of him and ignoring the conversation he just had with Liam. 

He manages to block a handful of shots into his net, and cheers when one of his teammates scores in the opposite goal, giving them back their small one point advantage.

There’s only one minute left until the end of the game, but Harry knows better than to let his guard down too early. A lot can happen in one minute; he learned that the hard way.

Unfortunately for him, the last gameplay ended in their zone, and the puck drop is happening right to his left. 

Louis and Liam are facing off in the centre, and Harry takes a deep breath to prepare for the intensity that the next minute is sure to bring.

If Harry knows one thing, it’s that Louis wants to win this match just as much as Harry does. If he doesn’t manage to score within the next minute, it’s over and the Canadian team will win. Harry has no doubt that Louis will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

The whistle sounds off into the arena, and Harry swears time is moving in slow motion as the puck gets dropped between Louis and Liam, the captains of both teams.

Louis successfully manages to snatch it, and there’s a look of pure determination on his face as he approaches Harry. 

The defenders don’t stand a chance against him, and Louis breezes past them way too easily, Liam hot on his heels and trying his best to stop him.

It’s still not enough, and Harry tries to follow the movement of the puck as Louis angles himself to shoot.

He expects Louis to go for his weak spot and to send the puck flying towards the upper right corner, so he extends his body that way, prepared to block the blow.

To his surprise, Louis shoots in the opposite corner, and Harry scrambles to throw himself to the ground in order to catch it.

In his haste to do so, he slips and lands in the wrong position, stomach dropping as he watches the puck get past the red post of his goal and bounce back into the net.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shouts as he looks up to the scoreboard and sees there is only one second left in the period. All he had to do was hold on for one more fucking second.

Harry isn’t usually a very violent man, but he could murder his boyfriend right about now.

He lets himself sag even further, one of his fists pounding against the ice in frustration until he feels someone pull him up by the shoulders.

It’s Liam, because of course it is.

“Come on,” he says as he pulls Harry towards the bench. “We’re never going to win with that attitude.”

Harry scoffs as he follows Liam. He’s certain his captain would be just as grumpy if he’d just cost the whole team their victory at the last possible second.

“The game’s not over, Styles. We still have to play overtime,” Liam says as he opens the door to the player’s bench and lets Harry go ahead of him. “Should I ask the coach to send in the alternate?”

Harry knows Liam doesn’t actually mean it, that he’s only saying this to get him to pull his head out of his own ass, but he still feels his chest tighten and he gives Liam a menacing scowl. “No, I’m still fine to play.”

“Then act like it!” Liam says before leaving to go talk to the rest of the team.

Harry slides down onto the bench the second he’s alone again and immediately starts getting himself into the right mindset.

Liam’s right, he’s never going to help his team win if he’s sulking like that.

He quickly glances at the opposite team’s bench and notices Louis is already looking back at him. The rest of his team are smiling and talking over each other in the background, clearly very pleased with the opportunity to play in overtime, but Louis seems to only have eyes for him.

He looks a little conflicted: the small smile on his lips indicates he’s quite happy with himself while his eyes are soft and almost worried when they land on Harry.

Louis takes one glove off, still maintaining eye contact as he discreetly makes a thumbs up gesture towards Harry, silently asking if he’s okay.

Harry quickly looks around him, making sure no one’s currently looking at him (including Liam, who’s now animatedly talking to their coach) before returning the gesture.

Louis’ smile turns even softer, fonder, and he nods slightly before putting his glove back on and turning to his team.

Harry’s heart flutters in his chest just a tiny bit, because Louis always makes sure he’s content no matter what, and Harry will always love him for that. Even if he’s technically the reason why he’s upset.

It isn’t long before the start of the overtime period is called, and Harry stands proudly in front of his net, ready to block any and all shots that are sure to come his way.

This is sudden death, and he will do his best to protect his net for as long as it takes for one of his teammates to score them the gold.

He manages to block two (mediocre at best) shots from the American players in the first few minutes, and holds his breath when there is a shift change and Louis steps onto the ice.

Harry guards his goal with his whole life, tensing up every time Louis approaches, whether he’s got the puck in hand or not. 

It’s about halfway through overtime when Louis finally gets a hold of the puck again, and he charges toward Harry like his life depends on it. 

He’s almost crossed the blue line in front of Harry’s net when one of Harry’s teammates tackles him. Not hard enough to really hurt him, but still enough to make Harry gasp a little bit.

The impact gives Liam a chance to swoop in and steal the puck though, and Harry watches intently as he brings it all the way to the other end of the rink and prepares to shoot.

Louis is back up by now and chasing after him, but he isn’t fast enough. With a posture Harry can only describe as perfect, Liam swings his whole body back and shoots towards the goal with full force. The puck easily blows past the defenders and misses the American goalie’s mitt by a hair before landing in the net.

There’s a loud buzz announcing the end of the game, and Harry’s ears are ringing as he watches his whole team spill from the bench and onto the ice, following Liam who’s skating all the way over to his end of the ice to tackle him to the ground. Before long, they’re both stuck under a heavy pile of men, laughing and smiling and shouting in victory.

“We did it!” Harry screams, smiling so wide his cheeks are already starting to ache from the intensity of it. “We won!”

“Told you it wasn’t over!” Liam shouts back, and his face matches the level of happiness shown on Harry’s.

They celebrate for a little while longer before getting up to shake the other team’s hands. 

The Americans don’t look particularly happy about their loss, but Harry can’t say he really blames them.

Louis, as team captain, stands at the front of the line, and he looks defeated as he shakes the hands of the first Canadian players in line. 

Harry is all the way at the back, and he almost feels sorry for Louis as he approaches and the details of his sad face get clearer for Harry. Almost, but it still doesn’t quite trump the utter joy that fills Harry’s whole being.

When they finally come face to face, the expression of sorrow on Louis’ face morphs into a soft fond smile, and Harry has to hold back his tears from how full his heart feels right now. 

He expects Louis to shake his hand and move on, the way they’ve done at the end of games before to avoid suspicion, but the other man wraps his arms around him and squeezes him as hard as he can with their heavy equipment between them. 

Harry can’t help but wrap his arms back around his boyfriend, beaming as he squeezes him right back.

“Congrats, babe,” Louis whispers into his ear before pulling away. “I’m so happy for you!”

And the smile on his face is so genuine that Harry knows he has to mean it. “Thanks, Lou.”

Harry’s mind is going a thousand miles an hour as he shakes the hands of the rest of the American players, dodging the weird stares they’re giving him after his embrace with Louis.

He can’t believe they just did that. They just hugged each other in front of an arena filled with supporters and both of their teams. 

The consequences of their actions don’t fully dawn on him until they’re waiting to stand on the podium at the medal ceremony and Liam nudges an elbow at him. 

“What was that?” He asks, giving Harry a funny look. “With Tomlinson?”

“I–” Harry tries to come up with an excuse, he really does, but all he can think of is how he’s just won a fucking Olympic gold medal, and his brain is having a hard time finding something coherent for him to say. “I, hum.”

Screw it, he tells himself, because he’s had enough of being careful about his relationship and he doesn’t care about what other people think anymore. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Harry says. “We’ve been together for four years, since the last Winter Olympics.”

“What?” Liam says, and he looks surprised, but not mad. “That’s awesome! Why didn’t you say anything?”

And Harry suddenly feels so stupid for ever hiding that Louis was his boyfriend, forever thinking his teammates could truly hate him for something as trivial as love. 

“I don’t know,” he says earnestly. “I really don’t.”

Liam laughs and pats him on the back.

In the time they’ve had this short conversation, the other two teams have already climbed on the podium and it’s now their turn to do so.

Harry looks down at the second step below and finds Louis' eyes among the others. He’s wearing his shiny silver medal around his neck, and he’s smiling up at Harry as a member of the Olympic Committee comes to slip a gold one over Harry’s head. 

“I love you,” Harry mouths at him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I love you too,” Louis doesn’t hesitate before mouthing back.

They don’t break eye contact as the Canadian national hymn plays, but there’s no one else Harry would rather be looking at right now.

Once back in the changing room, Harry starts doubting his decision to tell Liam about his relationship with Louis, especially after a few more of his teammates come to talk to him about it, because, of course, Liam has told people about it now.

They’d made the decision not to tell anyone four years ago as a couple, and now Harry has just gone against Louis’ wish without asking him first.

What if Louis isn’t ready to tell anyone and Harry’s now just ruined everything?

His nerves are eating him alive as he changes as fast as possible and runs to meet Louis outside.

His boyfriend is already there, waiting for him by the door.

“Harry!” He says before Harry can say anything. “I told my team we were together! I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have but it just slipped, and now–”

Harry smiles softly before cutting Louis’ rambling off by sealing their lips together in a kiss. 

“Wait?” Louis pushes him back gently. “You’re not mad?”

“I told my team as well,” Harry says with a soft laugh. “Great minds think alike and all that.”

Louis joins in on the laughing. “Did you really?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering why we didn’t do this sooner.”

Louis nods in agreement. “We could have been doing this the whole time!” He says before tackling Harry to the wall and kissing him again, with more heat and intent this time.

Both of their teams choose this exact moment to exit their respective changing rooms, and the space around them is soon filled with laughing and shouting (some more appropriate than others).

“Get a room, you two!” Liam says loudly. 

Harry waves him off and makes a show of making out with Louis even harder. He’s been waiting a long time to do this, and it would take a lot more than this to make him stop.

But then, Louis is pushing him away again, and Harry frowns as he looks at him with doe eyes.

“Come on, he’s right.” Louis is smirking. “Think of what I could be doing to you if we were in our room right now.”

It’s all Harry can do but stifle the moan that threatens to spill from his lips at Louis’ words.

“I like the sound of that,” Harry says in a low voice as he starts pulling Louis towards the exit. “Tell me more.”

Louis cackles loud and bright, and Harry can’t believe how lucky he is right now to call him his boyfriend.

The gold medal that’s still hanging from his neck doesn't even come close to how utterly happy Louis makes him feel, and he’ll cherish that knowledge for the rest of his life.