Bottom Harry Smut

so wicked in the way he moves

[harry and louis are parents at football practice]

By : ballsdeepinjesus on ao3

There's something about seeing Louis running down the pitch, yelling out commands and directions to the group on the field with a demanding kind of assertiveness that lands Harry into a bit of a predicament. He feels hot under the collar, his belly stirring with feelings he very much does not want to feel surrounded by parents and children under the age of thirteen. He wants to explore these feelings alone, on his back, preferably with Louis hot and sweaty above him. He crosses his legs discreetly in his sun chair and adjusts his sunglasses on his nose so he can watch Louis unabashedly. Not that anyone would judge him -- they know how Harry is.

Louis has baggy joggers on with thick socks covering the hem, his customary casual outfit of choice since he was in his early twenties. He's wearing his pair of football boots he's owned for over two decades, the ones he wore during his first charity match. They've been falling apart for awhile now but neither Louis nor Harry has the heart to throw them away. Harry smiles as he thinks back to that night, how he felt positively bursting with love and pride and complete admiration for his boy. It's a feeling that hasn't gone away over the years, only intensified over time.

The man in question turns when he makes his way on the sideline towards where Harry sits and gives him a flirty wink and an air kiss, smile dropping to a frown when Harry doesn't send him one back. Instead, Harry nibbles his lower lip and fidgets in his chair, waving Louis away when he starts to walk over. He doesn't want to admit that he's suffering from incurable horniness in the middle of bloody football practice. He's not a teenager anymore, not that that's ever stopped him before.

Harry gives him a thumbs up that dissolves Louis' frown; he grins and gives him the sign back, turning back around to walk the sidelines.

Louis isn't a coach, per se, as much as he'd love to be one. When their kids were younger Louis was right in the thick of things, teaching them the basics and glowing every time one of the kids called him "Coach Lou." But as the kids grew more advanced and the practices grew more thorough, work and life commitments kept him from coaching full-time. He still liked to pop by for all of the games and the occasional practice with Harry, always eager to lend a hand with the starry-eyed kids who never seemed to have gotten over having a former popstar teach them proper legwork.

Harry watches their own little rugrat River jogging along with his friends, eyes focused on the ball that's being passed around. He's their youngest child and coincidentally the one who looks the most like both of them. While Finn solely takes after Louis and Ariel is a mini-me of Harry, River looks like both of them no matter which way you turn him. He has Louis' eyes and nose but also Harry's dimples and mouth. His hair is Harry's favorite, caramel-colored swoopy ringlets that are always just a little bit messy.

He's painfully shy, but possesses the fierce sort of determination in life that Harry likes to think he and his husband have played a vital part in.

"Take the shot, Riv!" Louis yells, startling Harry from his fond thoughts. He watches as River's shoulders go rigid, eyes turning steely as they lock onto the football. He comes out of nowhere and steals the ball from a defender and sends it flying into the net in a perfect swooping arc. Louis whoops in excitement, unable to stop himself from running onto the field and embarrassing his son, sweeping him into a hug. Harry praises the gods above that it's only a friendly scrimmage between the team as a whole or else Louis would be in deep shit.

River pushes Louis away, trying to escape his hugs, but Harry can see the happy pride in his son's face even from the sidelines. Louis lets him go eventually, sending him off towards his teammates with a pat on the back and a nonchalant "Nice job, kiddo." He walks back to the sidelines with an unshakeable grin on his face, pushing his sweaty fringe out of the way to look at Harry.