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Team Football vs. Team Soccer

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The announcer’s voice booms around the stadium like Dumbledore’s after he casts the sonorous charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first annual Celebrity Soccer vs. Football Match! Let me introduce Team Soccer!”

Dylan’s side of the stands goes up in a mad cheer, and he claps until his palms hurt, watching Team Soccer jog onto the field.

“From MTV’s Teen Wolf, everyone’s favorite sour wolf, Tyler Hoechlin!”

Ladies are shrieking from all sides, and Dylan is frankly shocked that no panties are tossed onto the grass. Dylan feels like throwing his panties at Hoechlin all the time, but he’s glad that this crowd is containing themselves, though he does hear the sound of swooning from somewhere to his left. He’s too busy admiring his boyfriend’s perfect stubble and truly spectacular calves to care.


Colin can’t believe the amount of screaming coming from the American side of the pitch, though he has to admit that the bloke from the wolf show is well fit, even if he prefers his men more on the blond side with slightly less eyebrow. He’s sure that Bradley will get at least as much of a crowd reaction, and he’s not disappointed when the announcer moves on to Team Football.

“From the BBC’s Merlin, he’s the king of Camelot and the footie pitch as well, Bradley James!”

Colin shouts and grins around at the stadium as the ladies of the UK do him proud, catcalls coming from all sides. Bradley gives a wave and the sun glints off his hair, and Colin bites back a dreamy sigh.

It’s not his fault that his boyfriend is so bloody gorgeous.


Harry’s tucked away in a luxury box, separated from the crowd by a six foot drop and an alarming amount of security, scrolling through his Twitter feed as the announcer goes through the line-ups. He knows they’ll save Louis for last, and he hopes that the audience wears itself out a little bit.

He has earplugs in just in case.

“Last but certainly not least, he’s one fifth of the world’s biggest boyband and a pretty great footballer to boot, Louis Tomlinson!”

Harry has to pull his beanie down over his ears and cover them with his hands to muffle the noise, and he can feel the ground shaking under thousands of stomping feet.

He wonders how the stadium is ever going to survive.


The game is tied 1 - 1 at halftime, and Dylan is breathless from cheering, and from the honestly frightening amount of hotness on the field. Hoechlin’s had quite a bit of playing time already, and made a few really good shots on goal if Dylan says so himself. He also accidentally tripped the guy from One Direction, the one that Dylan calls “Harry Styles’s boyfriend” even though he knows his name is Louis. Hoechlin helped him up and they exchanged a friendly backslap, and Dylan immediately decided that was his in to meeting Harry Styles.

Because he isn’t only there to watch his super hot boyfriend run around in shorts and shin guards, oh no. He’s there to stalk Harry Styles. And if he’s lucky he’ll actually get to meet him.

He’s got a man on the inside after all. And he absolutely is not going to giggle out loud when he thinks that.


Colin uses the halftime break to hit the loo. The BBC got them a suite for the game, so Colin gets to use the fancy loos that don’t have lines. He’s zipping back up when a familiar looking guy comes in, tossing his curly hair.

The guy stops short and tilts his head.

“Do I know you?”

“I was just wondering the same thing,” Colin says, heading for the sink to wash up.

“Oh, you’re the magic guy from that show!”

Colin chuckles, drying his hands and holding one out to shake. “Merlin, yeah. I’m Merlin. Ehm, Colin, that is.”

The guy shakes his hand, grinning. “Harry.”

“Ah, from the boy band.”

Harry nods. “That’s me.”

“Your band mate is on the team with my cast mate.”

“Yeah, the really fit one with the shoulders, right?”

Colin grins. “He does have nice shoulders, doesn’t he?”

“And great hair. Shiny.”

“I noticed the same thing about Louis’ hair when they announced him earlier!” Colin says, and they smile at each other. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Cheers,” Harry says, and Colin turns to leave, then turns back.

“What are you lads doing after the game?”


Harry gets back to the luxury box just as the second half of the game is starting up again, and asks Lou if she kept her program. She hands it over and Harry scans the list for the blond from the magic show.

He has a feeling that Colin from the loos and Bradley with the shiny blond hair and great shoulders are more than just cast mates. Colin had talked about Bradley the way that Harry talked about Louis to strangers.

Harry hopes that Louis and Bradley are getting along, because he’d told Colin they could all get drinks after the game.

He thinks they’ll make quite the attractive foursome.


Team Football wins 3 - 2, and Dylan files out of the stands with the rest of the quiet Team Soccer fans. He’s got a pass in his back pocket that will get him into the clubhouses, and he flashes it for the security guard at the door.

There’s a holding type room for all the friends and families of the players, and Dylan hangs around near the door, scanning the crowd for Harry Styles. He wonders if he’ll even come out with everyone else, or if their security is too tight.

He’s craning his neck to see the back corner better and overbalances, tipping sideways and bumping into someone.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he says, righting himself and holding out an apologetic hand.

“No worries,” the guy says with a delicious Irish accent.

“You must be with Team Football. I’m Dylan, by the way.”

The guy nods. “Colin. Yeah, my cast mate was on the team.”

“Congratulations on the win, then. My castmate was on the losing team. Which player was yours?” Dylan asks.

“Bradley? Striker, scored the second goal.”

“Oh, nice. Mine’s Tyler. Tall guy, muscle-y, intimidating eyebrows?”

Colin laughs. “Ah yes, I did notice him.”

“He’s not as scary as he looks.”

“Good to know.”

They stand together watching more people file in. Dylan fidgets, feeling like he should try to make conversation so they don’t just stand there awkwardly silent.

“I’m waiting to meet Harry Styles,” he blurts out, then wishes he’d left the awkward silence alone.


Colin can’t help but laugh at Dylan. He’s obviously embarrassed about letting it slip that he was eager to meet Harry Styles, and he keeps rambling on after his admission.

“I mean, I’ve been a fan for a while, and he seems like a really cool guy, you know? Like the kind of guy you’d like to go out and get a beer with, or something. Just, he seems really fun.”

Colin grins. “I just met him in the loos, actually, and he is a really nice guy.”

Dylan’s eyes get wide. “Whoa, in the bathroom, really? That’s awesome.”

“We’re going out for drinks after, I bet you and your cast mate could come along.” Colin thinks it would be nice to have other television actors to hang out with, and Dylan is lovely.

“Oh man. You think so?”

Colin glances towards the door and sees Harry coming in, surrounded by an entourage and followed by photographers. “Let’s find out.”


Harry sees Colin in the holding room and waves, heading over with his trail of people. “Colin, hey great game, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Harry, this is Dylan, his cast mate was on Team Soccer.”

The guy next to Colin is really cute, pale and freckled with an adorable nose.

“Dylan, nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“I know,” Dylan says, and shakes his hand. “I’m a big fan.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Are you taking the piss?”

Dylan looks confused. Colin chuckles. “He wants to know if you’re joking,” he explains, and Dylan shakes his head emphatically.

“No, no, I mean it. I am honestly a pretty big One Direction fan. I’ve talked about you in interviews before.”

“Oh, you’re on that wolf show in America! People were tweeting me about you when we were nominated for VMAs. They thought we were going to meet and … “ Harry trails off, and Dylan’s mouth quirks up.

“Yeah, I got a few of those tweets as well. There was even fan fiction.” He scratches his jaw like he’s uncomfortable, but Harry thinks his eyes are sparkling.

“I saw that. Darry something or the other, right?”

Colin’s looking back and forth between them, his eyes narrowed. Dylan smirks more.

“Darry O’Bryles.”

A laugh bursts out Harry and he claps a hand over his mouth when people look over. He likes this Dylan guy.

“Colin was saying you guys are going out for drinks after?” Dylan says, and stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets.

Harry grins. “We are. You should come along.”


Dylan cannot believe that he is having a beer with Harry Styles.

He’s also having a beer with Harry’s boyfriend (and the media can print all the older woman/model rumors it wants but Harry is looking at Louis like he hung the moon and Dylan can’t help leaning over to Hoechlin and whispering “Larry is real” after the third time Louis beams up into Harry’s face) and Harry’s other bandmates (Zayn is apparently sick, which is a shame because he’s Posey’s favorite and the last text he had sent Dylan said tell zayn to come smoke with us brooooooo) and their drummer and their tour manager (though he isn’t drinking, just standing around being large and intimidating and staring at anyone who gets too close to the VIP area of the club they’re in) and the two guys from Merlin (who are also totally fucking, and if they’re trying to hide it they are doing a piss poor job because he’s touchy feely with Posey and Colton but they’re never that bad) and a bunch of other random people that Dylan doesn’t know.

Still. He’s having a beer with Harry Styles.


Colin feels incredibly out of place. Bradley and Louis and Hoechlin (he’d insisted Colin call him Hoechlin even though using people’s surnames was something Colin had a hard time getting used to, despite Bradley calling him Morgan on a regular basis) were talking about the match, recounting plays and arguing calls with the same level of enthusiasm that they’d shown running about on the pitch earlier. Bradley’s even started to get a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Harry and Dylan are scooted together close in the booth, and Harry is pointing at people in his entourage with a wicked glint in his eye, whispering things into Dylan’s ear that are making Dylan’s mouth drop open with surprised laughter. Colin thinks they look good together, pale and freckled, mischievous grins on their faces. He’s always up for a bit of a prank, so he leans back in his seat, peering around Hoechlin’s massive shoulders.

“Psst,” he stage-whispers, and both Dylan and Harry turn towards him. “What’re you two on about, then?”

They share a glance and then Dylan drapes himself over Hoechlin’s back to get closer. Hoechlin doesn’t miss a beat in his conversation.

“Harry’s telling secrets. Get this oaf to switch with you and he’ll tell you too.”

Half the people in the booth slide out so Colin can switch with Hoechlin, and then it’s three dark heads pressed together on one side of the booth, laughing over their cups and swapping secrets.


Harry hasn’t had a night like this in a long time, meeting new people who get him from the start (even if they’re not followed around by hordes of screaming teenage girls on a regular basis they still understand what it’s like) that are funny and attractive to boot.

Especially Dylan. He’s got lovely whiskey colored eyes. And Harry is not just thinking that because he’s four pints in. Though that may be the reason he’s entertaining the idea of asking everyone back to his and Louis’ flat for the night. That and the fact that Louis and Bradley look gorgeous together, all angles and shining hair. He also thinks he might like to find himself in a situation where it would be okay to tug on Colin’s ears a little bit, and after his fifth pint he’s wondering what it would be like to let Hoechlin throw him around a little bit. He’d settle for being able to watch Hoechlin throw Dylan around a little bit.

Or Louis.

Harry shifts in his seat, his jeans suddenly too tight.

“You alright man?” Dylan is so close, his thigh pressed against Harry’s and his flushed red cheeks filling Harry’s vision.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m good,” Harry says, and grins. He catches Louis’ eyes from across the table and Louis smiles slowly, sly, waggling his eyebrows. Harry slings an arm around Dylan’s shoulder and stretches his fingers until they brush Colin’s shirt. “You guys are great.”

Colin chuckles. “You’re pissed, mate.”

Harry throws back his head and laughs.


Dylan is getting capital T trashed, and he doesn’t care. He can’t stop touching Harry, can’t stop being entranced by Colin’s accent. Across the table Hoechlin is telling a story and gesturing, and Bradley and Louis both let out identical braying laughs, their jaws sharp enough to cut.

Dylan is in love with everyone.

So when Harry extends an invitation to join him and Louis at their flat Dylan is the first to accept.

Harry and Louis have a car service, of course, and they all pile into a van. Dylan’s half on Hoechlin’s lap in the way back, his other ass cheek on Colin’s thigh.

“Sorry, man,” he says, but Colin leans his head against Dylan’s bicep and grins up at him.

“I have a feeling this is the least of it, my friend,” he says, and Dylan just laughs.

He has a feeling he’s totally right.


Colin wakes up the next morning with a mouth full of blond hair, and it does not belong to Bradley.

He’s sprawled diagonally across a giant bed, and he’s got a warm body at his front and his back. And he’s completely starkers.

His head gives a sluggish pound and he tries to lift it off the mattress, giving up after it wobbles alarmingly on his neck. He feels the body behind his shift, and then a tan, well-muscled forearm clamps down around his middle.

“Just go back to sleep. Not ready to deal with this yet.”

It’s Hoechlin.

Colin goes back to sleep.


It’s like a scene from a movie, the bedroom a tangle of naked limbs. Harry picks his way across to the door, stepping over trainers and a couple of belts.


He turns to see Louis’ head poking out from between Colin and Dylan, his hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted.

“Morning,” Harry whispers. They stare at each other for a moment and then Harry feels his face split into a smile. Louis grins back.

“Make some tea?”

“You got it, love.” Harry goes to put the kettle on.


Dylan doesn’t know how stalking turned into a giant gay orgy, but after the initial morning after awkwardness it turned out to be pretty great. Harry made them all breakfast, and Hoechlin tucked Dylan under his arm while they ate toast and drank tea. They all exchanged numbers, and there was lots of talk of visiting sets, concert tickets, backstage passes.

Bradley and Colin leave first, Colin’s arm around Bradley’s waist and Bradley waving goofily as they go through the door. Louis doles out hugs all around and then proclaims that he must shower, and saunters off towards the bathroom.

Dylan takes his time tying his shoes, he knows they have to catch a flight back to the States but he doesn’t want to leave.

Hoechlin and Harry share a one armed hug, and Harry says something that has Hoechlin laughing, then Harry’s throwing himself at Dylan, giving Dylan a face full of curls.

“Thanks for everything,” Dylan says, muffled by Harry’s hair. Harry laughs against his shoulder.

“I’m not sure we even had a turn last night,” he says, pulling back. He’s got that glint in his eyes again, and Dylan can feel his cheeks heating as Hoechlin wraps an arm around his chest.

“I guess we’ll have to do this again sometime then,” he says, pressing back against Hoechlin’s chest.

Harry grins. “I guess we will.”