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Louis never knew how big of a deal the Winter Olympics were, mostly because he was always busy participating in the Summer games which, to be fair, were way more fun to watch. The Summer games had more events, which meant more people to interact with at the village. It also meant more parties, and Louis Tomlinson was never one to shy away from a party.

Except for nights before matches. He does take his job seriously, thank you very much.

But these games are different, because it’s February and he’s sitting in the stands of an ice rink watching his boyfriend skate his little heart out. Kind of odd, Manchester United’s leading defender and Britain’s little wonder child of the ice skating world. Louis can’t help but smirk in pride, because the Olympics are kind of a big deal and he knows that Harry has been training his ass off for this moment. It’s almost not fair; the entire world cares about figure skating for a few days, and then doesn’t for the next four years. Louis has it way easier; he’s in high demand nearly all the time.

It’s both a blessing and a curse.

Like when his relationship with Harry became public knowledge. They had dated for almost a year before it happened, until they got sloppy at Zayn and Perrie’s wedding reception. Of course, there shouldn’t have been paparazzi there, but nothing is full proof these days, is it? There had been some quick statements from the club— honestly Liam, his publicist, was a goddamn blessing and took it like a champ. Louis rewarded him by sending him and his girlfriend on a vacation.

Louis watches Harry warm up, his movements so fluid and precise and he wonders if this is what Harry feels when he watches Louis on the field. He’s nervous and excited and so proud of his boyfriend. He leans over to Harry’s mum, who he’s sat next to just like every other time Louis has been able to watch Harry compete. He doesn’t say a word, and neither does she, because over the years this has become routine for them. He feels his phone buzz inside his jacket, and of course a text from Niall.

‘Hey bro, better tell your boy I woke up early to watch this shit. Miss you.’

And Louis can’t help but crack up. Niall plays for the same club as him, and was the first person Louis told he was gay to. Niall’s reaction had just been a hug and offering to buy the next round of drinks. That had been three years ago. Louis feels the smile grow on his face, quickly typing out a reply.

‘Maybe next time you shouldn’t go out the night before you know he’s gonna skate. Be a good bestie and all.’

‘Fuck you Tomlinson. Hope he skates his butt off today.’

Louis does too. It’s the final day of competition, and Harry came into it in third place. Apparently it surprised a lot of people, but with the Russian favorite having to pull out due to an injury, and the Canadian taking a nasty fall on day one, it really was anyone’s game. Or skate? Competition? Whatever, all Louis knew was that Harry was a nervous wreck the entire day, barely speaking a word. He knew what the younger man was going through—Louis was all too familiar with the jitters of pre-performance. He glances up, watching as Harry skates to the wall to discuss something with his coach. A part of him wants Harry to look up at him, meet his eye so Louis can tell him that everything will be alright. He knows Harry won’t though; he’s so focused and in the zone that even if he wanted to he couldn’t, because Harry is a man of routine when it comes to competition.

Before he can reply to Niall’s text, another one comes in from Zayn.

‘Pez hung up a flag in the living room cuz she’s certain H is gonna win gold. xx’

This gets a grin out of Louis. He leans back over to Anne, showing her the text. It makes her grin too.

‘Did you get up early just to watch it? I’m amazed. xx’

‘Nah, don’t flatter yourself. Stayed up all night. Call me later, k? xx’

He doesn’t reply, getting a picture of Liam whose holding up a sign that says “SKATE HARRY SKATE!” in big bold letters and Louis suddenly becomes overwhelmed at how much his friends all support each other. He’s about to tear up, when he realizes the competition is about to start.


From there, it’s a blank slate. Louis watches competitor after competitor, but doesn’t remember their routines at all. It’s not until Harry is announced that he sits up straighter, eyes locked on Harry and cheering as loud as he can as he watches him skate the entire length of the rink before getting into position.

For all he knows, he holds his breath the entire time Harry skates because he remembers exhaling as Harry finished, holding his pose as the arena erupts. Anne is beside him crying, and Louis knows there has got to be at least one or two cameras on them, but can’t bring himself to care as he feels a tear slide down his cheek, hands clapping rapidly. That’s when Harry finally looks up at them after he’s bowed to the crowd, blowing a kiss up to them and Louis can’t believe his luck. How he’s somehow coerced the perfect man to be his. He lets the cheesy thoughts flow through his mind until the scores are announced, and he feels faint.

Harry is in first place.

By a lot.


No one catches him, and he wins gold. It’s a solid hour after before Louis gets a chance to be in the same room with him. Harry’s cooling down, peddling on a stationary bike with his phone in his hands. While Louis’ phone blew up after the score was announced, he can’t imagine how Harry’s is right now. Louis creeps on him, taking in the moment before pushing the door open.

Harry’s head immediately whips up, and the smile on his face is the widest Louis has even seen. He doesn’t know how but his legs carry him to Harry, and he wraps the boy up in his arms. He can feel the tears on his neck before he feels Harry’s shoulders start to shake. It takes him by surprise, but he still smiles anyway.

“Lou, I did it.”

“I know babe, I was there watching.”

Harry pulls back, hair in his eyes because he’s looking down with tinted cheeks and Louis wonders in that moment how he ever lived without Harry.

“Does this mean you’ll consider marrying me now?”

They had discussed it in the past, but Harry always gave his reservations towards the idea because he didn’t want to deal with the gossip magazines labeling him as a WAG—regardless if he had his own career. They came to blows about it a few months ago, with Harry telling him they’d talk about it after the Olympics.

Louis figured it was as good of time now as any. The ring is in his pocket. Chalk that up to having a good feeling.

Harry brings a hand to Louis face, eyes so gentle and loving and Louis holds his breath. Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment before smiling ever so softly.


Louis is taken aback by the answer, frowning. “You better not be pulling my leg, Styles.”

“Yeah, about that. I was thinking I’d change my name to Tomlinson? Or Styles-Tomlinson, if I keep skat—“

He doesn’t get to finish before Louis is crashing his mouth against Harry’s, effectively ending the conversation.

Moments later he’s sliding the ring onto Harry’s finger, who gave him a look when Louis pulled it out of his pocket. “You planned this.”

“Actually, I didn’t. I’ve carried it with me since you told me after the Olympics.”

Harry gives him another look. “How’d you go all this time without losing it?”

Louis smiles. “Because that’d be like losing you, and no way was I gonna let that happen.”


At the medal ceremony, it’s Canada, United States, and Great Britain. It’s the first time the country has won gold in the event since 1980. Louis knows that going home will be a big deal, but before long the attention will go away because football season is still in full swing, but he cannot help but not care for the time being because he is so incredibly happy. And if he’s smirking because Harry is wearing his ring on his left hand up there in front of the world to see, then, well, they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.