Chapter Text
“Out.”
Liam pulled his beanie lower down onto his ears, the cold this morning biting even for November in London. He had definitely felt the cold in his flat when he woke up but it was still a week until he allowed himself to turn the heating on. A week to wear every jumper he owned or spend as much time as he possibly could with out giving anything away at Harry or Niall’s. Despite the cold numbing his brain slightly his eyes were still glued to Harry’s hands, his mind making continuous notes. He watched intently the placement of those long bony ‘piano player’ fingers along the racket, the bracelets adorning his wrist moving with each tensing muscle. Funny how those hands he was analysing now were the very same strong hands that had been sliding up his thigh yesterday evening. His own muscles clenching…
“It was on the line!”
Harry’s eyes narrowed as he shouted over at Liam from the far side of the court, sounding more like a petulant child than a 20 year old. The hands resting on his hips, stupid Green Bay bobble hat and pouting scowl really completing the look. He’d never had been a morning person, so it should really be no surprise Harry was a little tetchy in their 6 am practise over Liam’s critique of his technique. Harry took it all so bloody personally despite it being what he paid Liam to be there to do. Especially since they had... blurred the lines of their professional relationship. With his mind simultaneously urging him to kiss the expression off of Harry’s face whilst also telling him to play the shot again until it was done right, he could see why they mentioned at college the first unwritten rule was to not sleep with the client. He’d like to know though who had the self restraint to turn down the half man-child/ half sex God that was Harry Styles especially when he was 6 double vodkas in all loose limbs, glowy smile, crinkled eyes and shirt half undone. But despite the impact Harry had over his brain and common sense, he had vowed to himself and more importantly to Niall, that he would never let that get in the way of his job. The kissing was going to have to wait. First and foremost he was here to train Harry. To get him the titles he deserved. He wasn’t going to let his feelings and a tumble in the bed sheets get in the way of Harry winning Wimbledon. No matter how good the blowjobs were. Blowjobs he was certain he was not going to be getting this evening if Harry’s pissed off frown had anything to do with it.
“On the line isn’t good enough Harry! You can’t win anything just by chance. Try the backhand again. Less rotation on the left foot this time and keep your wrist strong on the down swing.“
The eye roll and middle finger didn’t go unnoticed but there was no point in saying anything especially as instead of arguing or skulking off court as had happened before, Harry turned to pick another handful of balls from the basket behind him. Liam watched; analysing every move. Every bounce, every heel turn and rock, the look of steely concentration as Harry tossed the ball into the air, scowl still evident on the wrinkles on his forehead. This time the ball landed slap bang in the centre of the opposite side of the court.
“Better still too much rotation on the left but better! I think that’s enough for this morning – go grab your stuff. If you are out in under 5 minutes, I’ll maybe forget about the suicide runs I had planned for later.”
Ok he wouldn’t but it worked getting Harry off the court faster than he normally would when he was still sulking. As Harry retreated into the changing courts, Liam slid his phone out of his coat pocket. Despite it being before 9 am, he already had 15 emails and 10 texts to deal with. As he tried to open the first email, Liam cursed as the screen froze. It had been happening every day for the past month and the screen was cracked to the point pieces of glass would occasionally fall off mid text but he didn’t have the money to replace it just yet- the phone or the screen. Rent on his shitty apartment and looming credit card bill being slightly bigger issues. Dealing with the phone could wait until he had had breakfast- most of the emails would just be rubbish about some headline or asking him for a quote anyway. That or Pizza express vouchers which he really should get round to unsubscribing from.
“Oh Payno! You’re here early mate!”
Sighing as he shoved his useless phone back into his pocket, Liam looked up as a flash of blonde hair and beaming grin that was definitely not from someone who had been up since 5, crossed over the courts towards him. Liam couldn’t help but grin as he took in Niall’s outfit. Sure it was cold, but what Niall was wearing wouldn’t be out of place on a visit to Arctic. Truth be told the fluorescent clashing colours of his jacket and hat were making Liam feel a little nauseas this early in the morning. However, Niall’s choice of outfit was quickly forgiven when he handed over a Starbucks coffee cup. The heat of inside was not only causing a waft of steam to rise out from the slit in the lid but was acting as a welcome relief to his numbed fingers. Gloves another thing he needed to buy when he got his next pay check through.
“Been here since 6. Early practise.”
His too eager gulp of the drink was rewarded with his tongue burning with the too hot liquid, but the familiar taste of a caramel macchiato was a welcome relief to the tiredness weighing down on his brain. He couldn’t remember the last time he treated himself to one of these. It was times like this he thanked the world for sending him Niall. He couldn’t count the number of times he had thought about how much easier it would have been to fall for Niall rather than the whirlwind of brown curls and green eyes that was Harry. They’d met four summers ago, both ball boys at Wimbledon, Niall’s booming voice and easy smile winning him over immediately. From then they had gone on to train together as tennis coaches both having decided that going pro wasn’t for them. Or more to say, Liam’s ankle had decided for him. It’s not to say they hadn’t tried once – if trying could be equated to one drunken kiss – but Niall was the person he had slept in the same bed as for 6 months when they had first moved to London; who would order obscene amounts of Nandos with him and watch the X- Factor with a crate of beer. Liam didn't look at Niall and feel his insides tingle with excitement. With Niall there was no risk, he was safe –a comfort blanket. Liam had had enough of safe.
“Shit me mate I don’t think I could get Louis and Zayn up that early if I tried. Then again I don’t have the shagging rights that you do.”
Liam couldn’t help but laugh. Ever since he had divulged to Niall that he may or may not be sleeping with Harry, Niall had taken every opportunity he had to tease Liam mercilessly about it. Needless say, the teasing was helped no end by Niall having known how much Liam had fancied him before hand. Liam wasn’t the only blatant one though what with with the way Niall stared just that little bit too long at Louis’ ass when he did a long volley. Today however there was a touch more resentment than jokiness in his voice. He was going to have to tread carefully with whatever he said next especially seeing as Niall could be his only source of a warm room for the next week.
Sitting down in the space next to Liam, Niall let out a very ‘Un-Niall ‘ like sigh.
“You alright mate?”
Liam nudged his elbow affectionately into Niall’s side.
“Yeah.”
Niall’s reply was anything but convincing and Liam rushed to say something to appease Niall. No one liked an unhappy Niall and the middle of a training tennis court in Shoreditch wasn’t quite the place for an emotional breakdown. Not this far away from Wimbledon any way. There was plenty of time for breakdowns to come.
“If it’s any comfort I think I’ve lost my ‘rights’ for this evening.“
Niall’s normal smile returned, a twinkle in his eye as he took a long gulp from his cup.
“Insult his drop shot too much? He toss the ball wrong?”
Liam almost choked on the sip of his drink before regaining his composure and shooting Niall a quick finger with a wink.
“Ha Ha. No he’s off his serve – didn’t like me calling him out on it.”
Niall’s worried grimace matched the one Liam was sure was on his own face.
“Damn. Sure it’s not just because it’s early?”
“It shouldn’t matter if it’s early; time zones can’t matter when you play around the world. It lost him the last tournament in the final as well …”
“You’ll get it sorted Li- I know you will. Plus the whole country fell for Murray and his dodgy serve. The buger didn't even have H’s looks. ”
Liam reached over and squeezed Niall’s shoulder. Yeah he knew all about those looks…
“Thanks mate. We’ve got a while yet before it worries me more. Never mind me and a dodgy serve, how are things really going with you? No bull.”
Nice thing was with Niall coaching a doubles team and Liam a singles player, was they had always been able to talk to each other without worrying about being accused of giving away information to the competition. Exchanging advice or worries and never be competing with each other if their players faced each other. Not that that would have stopped them, but it certainly made it easier with press what with the two of them splashed across Louis, Zayn and Harry’s social media accounts. It was thanks to Niall he was coaching tennis anyway. After a weak ankle made it sure Liam would never go professional, he had vowed to himself not to go anywhere near tennis again, saying it would be to close to the bone. But Niall, the determined sod he was, had made him realise that his knowledge of tennis would make him the best tennis coach there was, instead of wasting all the hours he had spent on the court by abandoning it completely. As the years passed, through college and now in this his first job, Liam had been lucky that the pain of watching Harry or anyone else play had faded. Now it was only a dull ache and he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. And he still had his Sunday morning matches against the middle-aged man from the flat upstairs. It was nice to have some time where he could play just for himself – remind himself why he had fallen in love with the game. Harry didn't know about those sessions – Niall barely knew- and he was planning on keeping it that way. It wasn’t that Liam was worried about his playing or it was unusual for coaches to keep playing, but Harry would read far too much into why he had kept them hidden.
“Louis and Zayn slept together last week and now they aren’t talking…”
Fuck Liam had not expected that. Niall may be gone for Lois but it was pretty obvious the feeling was definitely reciprocated. Louis must have been out of his mind wasted to let that happen.
“Shit mate. I’m sorry …”
The casual shrug did nothing to hide the hurt in Niall’s eyes.
“Ahhh what you going to do… Just hope they don’t start throwing things at each other like yesterday….”
Liam let out a low chuckle, just picturing the show down between Louis and Zayn.
“Bloody hell…. On the plus side mate if they were pissed with each other means it definitely wasn’t planned. Don’t let Harry know about that or he might start throwing balls at me.”
Niall’s smile didn't quite meet his eyes but he still chuckled especially as Harry chose that very moment to walk out the changing room looking like a human storm cloud; scowl firmly set on his face.
“Let’s just be glad its only tennis balls… can you imagine if we were training javelin throwers?!”
Harry’s scowl only deepened as Liam let out a loud laugh in response to Niall’s comment, before draining the last of his coffee and putting the empty cup back next to Niall. He was going have to buy Harry an incredibly large breakfast to get back in the good books. The new phone could wait.
Thankfully ‘The Breakfast Club ‘ wasn’t too busy when they arrived; a few couples and a Mother Baby group in the far corner of the room. Standing in a queue with Harry sulking would have been even less enjoyable than the silent tube journey here. At least on the tube Liam could amuse himself by people watching and avoid the sulking by sitting on the opposite side of the carriage to Harry, who had starred stubbornly at his phone for the whole journey. Liam couldn’t help but stare at him a bit – who could blame him? He took a weird sense of pride in watching some of the other people on the train not so subtly staring at Harry as well. Some of them were probably staring in recognition but most – men and women- were just checking him out. Taking in the strong jaw line and long limbs accentuated by the skinny jeans he had changed into, Harry looked pretty damn hot. The urge to reach and stroke Harry’s leg with his foot had been incredibly strong; show the others ‘He’s mine’ back off. But public PDA in a tube during the morning commute rush hour was really not his mojo, especially as it would involve manoeuvring past an exceedingly overweight middle-aged man and two Spanish tourists looking more than a little overwhelmed by the number of people crushed in one tube. Under a table in the restaurant however, Harry’s impossibly long legs were fair game. Sometimes playing dirty was the only way of winning Harry over.
Harry pointedly ignored his foot stroking the fist few times, purposely hiding his face with the large cardboard menu. But as his foot reached ever closer to Harry’s thigh, Liam watched Harry’s eyebrows twitch. Five Four Three Two… The menu dropped to reveal a weary smile, dimples out in force.
“There it is….”
Harry placed his menu down and leaned his chin forward onto his hands, a curl creeping out from under the beanie. His voice, low and gravely as he spoke, thankfully seemed free of irritation.
“You’re lucky you’re hot.”
“You know I say it because I care.”
Reaching one hand forward, Harry stroked Liam’s forearm- rings still cold against his skin from the temperature outside - before not so subtly changing the conversation. Apparently they weren’t talking about it.
“You got that shitty phone of yours fixed yet?”
Liam’s insides twisted uncomfortably. Maybe Harry wasn’t the only one who was going to play avoidance. The topic of money was one he was not about to get into with Harry. They had only just got over their argument over Harry buying him a ridiculously overpriced coat that cost the same as two months of Liam’s rent. He was still refusing to wear it despite it being possibly the warmest and most comfortable thing he had ever tried on. But it just didn't sit right that Harry dropped £1000 on a coat for no other reason than he didn't think Liam’s was good enough.
“It’s fine.”
Fine it wasn’t - It was shit. But shit or not it was still his. If Harry knew it wasn’t working he would try and buy him a new one and he didn’t want that. Or if he knew that Liam was tight on money he would obnoxiously raise his salary and the press would jump straight on that. His salary was certainly nothing to sniff at, but with London rent and training college debts on top of travel and living costs there was not much left for Liam to play round with. Most days he struggled enough not letting Harry pay for everything they did as it was. He knew Harry’s family were loaded, so much so that Harry didn't even bother looking at the total at the bottom of receipts most days and would go to those sort of shops where nothing had a price label attached. And sure he didn't resent Harry – the guy was the genuine person he knew- and maybe it was pride, but he didn’t want to be ‘that person’. Harry had enough people in his life that used him.
Unsurprisingly Harry looked decidedly unimpressed by his answer, left eyebrow raised. But as Liam stared stubbornly back into his stormy greens, he had never been more aware of the A.Lange and Söhne watch hanging off Harry’s wrist that cost more than his parent’s house in Wolverhampton. Twice as much – he’d Googled it.
“If it was fine you would have replied to the text I sent you when I was in the changing room. Let’s see it. “
Harry’s voice was deeper and louder when he spoke this time, frustration at Liam’s reply obvious.
“Harry honestly it’s fine. I didn’t see it because I was talking to Niall.”
Liam felt his own voice growing louder in balance with Harry’s- aware that the people closest to them were watching after their irate voices had caught their attention. He wasn’t sure if the red rising in his face was from irritation or embarrassment at the scene they were in danger of causing.
“If you say ‘FINE’ one more time….”
“Bloody hell STOP Harry I’m not talking about it. I’ll get it sorted- it’s FINE for now. End of conversation.”
Liam was first to break away from the staring contest that followed, uncomfortable at the mixture of anger and confusion lacing Harry’s eyes. His mind scrabbled to find a conversation that would distract Harry from A. storming out or B. continuing on his crusade. Liam played with the menu with his fingers as he spoke again, trying hard to keep his voice level to so to move the conversation passed their argument.
“You hear about Louis and Zayn?”
There was a moment and a long sigh before Harry replied. Liam could tell he was weighing up if not to continue his pursuit about Liam’s phone; Harry was like a dog with a bone with some things.
“Louis text me last night I…”
Liam noticed the not so subtle dig and rolled his eyes, moving his arm away from Harry’s touch. The waitress appearing next to their table interrupted the rest of Harry’s sentence. As grateful as he was for the interruption, he couldn’t help but notice that her smile was a bit too wide and leery to be genuine.
“Can I take your order?”
Although her body was twisted towards Harry, Liam didn't need to be able to see her face to imagine the fluttering eyelids she was trying to pull off. He cleared his throat to draw her attention; previous thoughts confirmed as she turned to him looking more than disgruntled.
“Yeah we’d like a green smoothie and an orange juice. And umm … two full montys- one with extra avocado please.”
If he was going to blow the rent for next month he might as well do it properly. The waitress wrote down the order and sent one final smile at Harry who was too busy looking at Liam incredulously to even notice the waitress’s attempts at flirting.
“Do I not get to choose?”
“My job innit- got to get your greens in. You love it when I boss you around anyway.”
Harry’s eyes darkened with lust and his hand returned to Liam’s arm, grip stronger than before. Liam felt a shudder run through him as Harry spoke, his voice belonging more in a bedroom than a public café.
“You have no idea…”
It took all his will power to pull away; his cheeks flushed bright red. He didn’t look up to Harry as he spoke, fully knowing the innocent yet smug smile that would be on his face. It was embarrassing really- that he had probably memorised every one of Harry’s expressions. Could see Harry’s eye’s crinkle when he laughed down the phone; the slight downturn on the left side of his mouth when he was frustrated. But that was normal right? When you spent every day together it was normal to know? Liam didn’t realise he’d been zoned out until the voice of the waitress from before interrupted.
“One orange juice?”
Liam cleared his throat and waved slightly in her direction. He was too amused by Harry’s disgruntled look at the green smoothie coming his way to even notice her advances on Harry.
“And one green smoothie – it’s my favourite.”
Harry sent her a brief ‘Style’s’ smile; dimples out; eyes sparkling.
“I’ll let you know what I think.”
The waitress scurried away; face obviously redder than it had been before.
“You expect me to drink this… this ..moss?”
Sipping at his orange juice, Liam sent Harry a wink.
“It’s good for you… You were saying about Louis?”
Harry took a slow sip of the juice, grimacing overly dramatically before replying.
“Louis was upset and said something about fucking up… I didn’t know it was to do with Zayn. What happened?”
It was unusual that Louis hadn’t told Harry what had happened. Then again Liam had always thought that Harry and Louis had a weird overly protective relationship. He had asked Harry about it once but Harry had just become a bit tetchy and told Liam to stop being nosey.
“Umm they slept together.”
“Fucking idiot…”
Liam wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but he was still a little surprised at the anger in Harry’s voice and the exasperated hair shake as he took off his beanie that followed; one normally saved for after Harry faulted the net or lost a game.
“Should have guessed from when he said not to invite Zayn to drinks… Niall say anything else?”
He shook his head. Liam didn’t want to tell Harry that Niall had seemed more than a little deflated and hurt. Niall would be mortified.
“No just they had a tense practise yesterday…”
Harry didn’t look like he believed Liam one bit, but he respected Niall and Liam’ relationship. In fact Harry’s voice as he replied was more far more assertive than he expected.
“I’ll talk to him this evening.”
Lucky Louis. It was times like these- when he could see the boy that still believed he could fix everything and that the world should be and could be a better place - that reminded Liam how young Harry really was. Most of the time he acted so beyond his 20 years. So blumming wise and knowledgeable. But there was a spark there; a stubborn streak that not even Harry could hide on occasions. The longer Liam had known him the more of it had emerged. And as annoying as it was in training or when trying to have a serious conversation, deep down Liam loved it. Loved the unpolished Harry whose forehead, still sporting the remnants of teenage acne, crinkled when he frowned; who sulked and watched Escape to the Country when he’d had an argument with his Mum or James his manager; who stubbornly refused to give in when he thought he was right. It made him human. More than the poster boy the world was trying to make him.
Taking another sip at the green smoothie and wincing again, Harry leaned back into the sofa booth, reaching to his foot out to touch Liam’s.
“What do you fancy doing this evening?”
“What do you mean? We’ve got all those lovely running sessions around Hampstead and then maybe if we’re lucky a weights session.”
Harry rolled his eyes and sighed as Liam winked.
“You know what I mean. And you said we weren’t doing those…”
“ I said maybe…”
“ Maybe I could persuade you with some different cardiac activity at yours…”
Liam could see where this was going. Harry was trying to make Liam let Harry come over to his. To the freezing studio flat and sofa bed next door to the single mum and screaming baby who obviously hadn’t yet learnt the concept of night and day. Yeah there was no way he was letting Harry come over just yet… not when he had Egyptian cotton sheets and a celling to floor window with a panoramic view of London instead. He wasn’t ready Harry to see that side of him yet. Even when they were just friends Liam hadn’t wanted him there. Now with .. well whatever they were doing… Liam wanted to hide it even more. It was so hard to ignore the confusion in Harry’s eyes every time Liam suggested going somewhere else apart from back to his. Confusion was bad but pity would be worse.
“I’m not sure what you are insinuating young Harold?”
Liam let his tongue briefly brush against his bottom lip, watching as Harry’s pupils dilated slightly. God bless sexual distraction …
“Umm your breakfasts?”
He couldn’t help but enjoy the flush that rose up in Harry’s cheeks at the interruption, his eyes avoiding the waitress and fiddling with his phone.
“Thanks. Just put them down we’ll sort it out.”
Liam couldn’t help but feel slightly smug when the waitress looked disappointed at Harry’s lack of interaction. Oh yeah he’s mine. The smugness quickly disappeared when Harry looked up with a steely gaze.
“James just messaged me.. Asked me why you hadn’t rung back about the meeting. Said he’d rung 6 time”
Love Fifteen to Harry. Stupid self-righteous tosser.
Liam didn't even bother warranting Harry with an immediate reply, instead concentrated on shoving a large mouthful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. When he looked back up, Harry was still staring at him, his hands clasped together as he sat and watched Liam.
“Shut up and eat your breakfast. We are not having this conversation. "
Harry held his hands in the air in mock defeat before picking up his fork- a token apology gesture too late Liam’s mind grumbled.
“So before this meeting I think we can fit in a weight session?”
Harry nodded mouth too full of breakfast to reply- success. Perhaps Liam should do that more often. Ask Harry to do things when he couldn’t argue back.
“Then maybe drinks later? With the others? Once I talk to Louis that is and drag him out what I can imagine will be a self-pity den. Pub near mine shouldn’t be busy on a Tuesday either.”
Liam should say no… really should say no. But Harry had backed off going to his – obviously sensing he had pushed too far with the phone. And a drink later with the others was almost definitely going to end up with him and Harry going back to Harry’s. Sue him. His flat was cold and Harry was hot.
“Yeah sounds good.”
The smile that erupted over Harry’s face was like a bloody beacon of light. Fuck Liam was so screwed.