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1.
Keeley was truly the best! Not only had she arranged a publicity photoshoot for Dani, but she had organised one with puppies! Today was even more exciting than the day he signed his first professional contract, or the day his request to join the Mexican Zava Fan Group on Facebook was accepted.
He waved warmly at Keeley as he turned into the Barkingham Palace car park, the blonde lady already waiting by the front door with her arms full of bags and folders. She grinned as he skipped out of his car. “Good morning, Dani! Are you ready for this?”
Dani couldn’t find the words to express how more than ready he was. He took some of Keeley’s files from her hands – hopefully they included some paperwork for adopting a dog with Dani’s details already filled in – to let her finally sip from the reusable coffee cup she’d balanced on top. “I did not sleep a wink last night, thank you again for the wonderful opportunity! It will be a beautiful way to honour our dear friend Earl.” He couldn’t help the way his mouth sank as he uttered the last part. Even though he’d worked hard with Dr Sharon to understand that football can be intertwined with life, death, and everything in between, he still couldn’t believe that life could be so cruel. Keeley must have sensed his sudden loss of joy as she gently nudged his shoulder with her own.
“Oi, listen Dani. You and Colin are gonna help so many dogs get a second chance at life with this photoshoot! Think of how happy Earl would be to know that, yeah?”
He knew Earl would be delighted knowing his friends were moving to loving homes, which brought Dani’s pep back immediately. Keeley went on with details of how today would unfold, but to be completely honest, Dani switched off as soon as he heard he’d get to help walk some of the residents! Before he could admit this, however, the screech of Lamborghini tires filled the air. His Welsh amigo has arrived, today was going to be the best day ever!
Keeley was waving, cup in hand, and Dani beamed as his teammate stepped out of the lime green car. “Hola, Colin!”
But Colin didn’t respond. He marched towards them, hands in pockets and sunglasses still fixed to his face. It was only 8am, Colin could occasionally be gruñón in the mornings, but this was something else entirely. Oh no, what if he had developed an allergy to dogs? Dani couldn’t imagine anything worse!
Beside him, Keeley’s brows knitted together with concern. “Colin, babe, is everything alright?”
The man grumbled lowly. “Nutritionist’s got me on a new plan. No coffee or energy drinks.”
“Ahhh” exclaimed Dani and Keeley simultaneously, not doing anything to turn Colin’s frown upside down. That explained a lot, Colin must lack the natural energy Dani’s mamá said ran through his veins.
“Well that’s alright!” Keeley always found the positives in every situation. “We can do a shot of you sleeping on the floor among some puppies!”
Colin just about mustered a smile at that, finally taking off his sunglasses to wipe his sleepy eyes. “Right, let’s go. You alright, boyo?”
Dani threw his spare arm around Colin’s shoulders as they followed Keeley into the reception. “Woo!” The Welshman’s laugh in his ear was a win for Dani, today was going to be unforgettable!
2.
They might actually have a chance at getting promoted in a few weeks. Isaac believed. The team believed. And most importantly, Sky Sports must’ve believed. Why else would they want to put their match against Huddersfield on the telly? Sure, the earlier kick off disrupted Isaac’s usual pre-match routine of breakfast pasta and Clubland anthems, but as he walked into the empty dressing room at half past nine on Saturday morning, it felt just like any other match day. Coach Beard was next door doing whatever important coaching things he does in the coaches’ room, leaving Isaac to ceremoniously set up the Bluetooth speaker on the centre island. They needed to win this one, so they needed to be inspired. 80s power ballads it was.
Little by little, the team filtered in. The change in routine didn’t seem to have affected anyone too drastically. Jamie was wearing pyjamas, but he’d no doubt claim it was some weird designer thing. Jan Maas’s hair was still damp from his morning shower. Sam timed his entrance to perfection with the chorus of Simply the Best.
But then just as Isaac was zipping up his training top, bobbing his head along to a John Farnham classic, a dishevelled looking Welshman shuffled in. He stopped at the door, staring right at Isaac.
“Really, boyo?”
Isaac and Colin had been best mates for the last two years. He knew Colin didn’t like mornings, he wasn’t exactly a sprightly lark himself. But while Isaac could usually get by with a coffee and a run, Colin favoured the ‘stay in bed and avoid it’ approach. But not today, Huddersfield are weak on the left and they need Colin’s speed. “It’s motivational, bruv. Now get kitted up; strong and capable, remember?”
Colin held his gaze a bit longer, and Isaac was ready to offer his hand for a high-five. Instead, Colin strode to the middle of the dressing room and turned off the music. “It’s too fucking early for this.”
Nobody around them seemed to notice, but Isaac was too shocked to even find words as Colin made his way to his locker, carelessly kicking off his trainers. Jan offered him a nod, but Colin kept his head down.
“Not The fucking Voice, mate!” But he got no reply, only Richard patting his shoulder sympathetically as he moved outside and muttering something confirming Isaac’s belief that it is indeed one of the best songs of all time. Colin would pay for this: nothing wakes a man up more than sprints live on Sky Sports.
3.
He’d been having a nice dream about eating yoghurt with his childhood cat when his brain kicked into gear and woke him up. 07:20. He’d overslept. Never mind, he still had three hours until the bus home and plenty of time for his morning ritual.
Jan swung his legs over the bed and onto the floor, stretching his arms as high as he could. The floorboard underneath him creaked as he stood up, but there was no stirring from the man in the bed at the other side of the room. This was his first time sharing a room with Colin, but hopefully not the last; the man slept completely silently, with no snoring, sleep talking or – thank god – sleep walking. Hopefully he was still alive.
Grabbing his wireless headphones from his rucksack, Jan found a video on his phone and set himself up in the space between the two beds. He didn’t think it worth it to bring his mat, but the carpet looked soft enough. He was halfway through his first flow, holding a triangle pose, when he heard his name being called. He really should turn the noise cancelling function back on. Pulling his headphones off, he spun around to face Colin, who did not seem pleased.
“Are you taking the piss?”
Oh, so Colin was one of those, influenced by years of dressing room ‘banter’ and scared of anything not traditionally masculine. Luckily, Jan was in his calm and composed zone. “Yoga is great for core strength and flexibility, plus maintaining good mental health and emotional balance.”
Colin scrunched his face and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yes, I know, Jan. I love a bit of Bikram on a Thursday.”
He could only shrug, he didn’t understand his teammate’s problem. “So...?”
“So why are you naked?!” Colin’s arms flailed wildly around him, his voice an octave higher than before as he questioned Jan.
“My movement is not restricted like this! I can’t get into a full split if I have shorts on.”
The Welshman huffed theatrically, “for fuck’s sake, boyo, it is far too early to see your cock!”
Jan pursed his lips, he couldn’t resist. “Well what time would you prefer to see it?”
Luckily, Colin never had anything harder than a pillow in his vicinity, not causing any lasting damage as it hurtled through the air to hit him square in the genitals. The alarm clock could’ve led to a very awkward trip to A&E. As he flumped back onto the bed, turning towards the wall and pulling his duvet over his head, Jan stepped into a pair of boxers. He supposed he could manage just this once.
4.
He was dead. That was the only way he could make sense of this. The combination of beer, champagne, vodka and whatever else the punters at the club had bought him had proven deadly and lead to Jamie Tartt’s untimely demise. But then if he was really dead, why was his head throbbing so much? And why was his stomach so- oh shit.
He sprang up and made a dash to his en-suite in the corner of the room, eternally grateful for the fluffy shower mat and deep toilet bowl.
‘Better out than in’ is what his mum always used to say when he had tummy bugs as a child. She’d never seen him drunk, mind. He knew exactly how she’d react if she did, patting his head softly as he expelled litre after litre of yellow liquid, then reading him the riot act as soon as he resurfaced. Probably best she hadn’t moved down south like he’d suggested, then. He was amazed he had any internal organs left after getting all that up, but he did at least feel a bit better. He rinsed his mouth and splashed cold water on his face with a promise to himself in the mirror to never drink again. He fucking meant it this time.
Reconstructing the events leading up to this moment was proving difficult. They’d gotten taxis from the stadium into town, O’Brien had given him a swig from a bottle of black sambuca, and oh Jesus he’d been on a table. Why was he on a table? He remembered spitting champagne over Jan Maas because he wasn’t expecting so many bubbles. At one point a bird tried to touch his arse... was that why he was on the table? And why did his back hurt so much? An image of bursting out the back door of the club and running across the road with Colin on his back suddenly appeared. That explained a lot. He’s sure he could piece more memories together after another good sleep, god only knows what time it was. But he froze as soon as he stepped back into his room. There was a body on the other side of his bed, fucking shit. He didn’t remember pulling anyone, there’s no way they would’ve had a good time with the state Jamie was in. This is a tabloid disaster waiting to happen.
“You okay, boyo?”
A raspy voice halted his racing thoughts. It was even worse than he’d imagined – he couldn’t hook up with a teammate! It was unethical and unprofessional and just generally shitty, and Jamie wasn’t any of those things anymore. Colin was facing him and clearly expecting an answer, but his eyes were still squeezed shut. Jamie recalled passing O’Brien’s bottle to him, so he must’ve been in a similar state last night. Eventually he managed to clear his throat and produce sound.
“Yeah, just sick, y’know.”
Colin grunted. “Turn off that bloody extractor fan and get back to sleep.”
Okay, Jamie could do this. He flicked the light switch and padded back over to the bed where Colin lay. Tentatively, he slid closer so he lay against Colin’s back, sliding an arm across his torse. As he laced their fingers together, the other man jolted away.
“The fuck are you playing at, Jamie?!” He still sounded groggy, but was noticeably more alert than before now. Shit, it clearly hadn’t been a good time.
“I’m being chivalrous! I don’t want you feeling neglected!”
Colin exhaled through his teeth, now staring at Jamie straight in the eye. “Jesus- We didn’t fuck, boyo! You carried me here on your back, I was drunk and passed out.”
Well that made sense, he loved an innocent explanation when things were all going tits up. But that didn’t explain-
“And I don’t know why you’re naked.”
Quandary solved, Jamie turned around and moved back to the other edge of the bed. Might as well make the most of that extra sleep. “Sound.”
He closed his eyes and thought of a starry night sky, the adrenaline from his panic gradually draining away and being replaced with sleep. Until a muffled Welsh accent cut through the silence.
“We can still spoon if you want, but this goes nowhere.”
Jamie didn’t need to be asked twice, meeting his teammate in the middle of the bed and enveloping him in his arms. There was no better hangover cure out there.
5.
Will loved airports. He had a book when he was younger which had pictures of planes and terminal buildings, with little tabs you could lift up or pull out to see what was happening behind the scenes. If he wasn’t a kit man, Will could definitely see himself as an air traffic controller or a baggage handler or the guy who waves the ping pong bats to guide the planes in.
Even more exciting was that today he was with the entire Richmond team! Will had initially assumed that they wanted him to tag along on their “pre-pre-season” trip to set up training cones and do their laundry, but instead they told him they actually wanted to hang out with him! And if the trip was anything like Bumbercatch had explained, it would be less detox and more excess. He was just happy to be invited!
He dragged his suitcase around the corner to the bar where the team had arranged to meet, spotting the group as they crowded around a long table. It was soon obvious that this was not a work-sanctioned training trip: Isaac and Jamie were sharing a bottle of prosecco; Jan was drinking a gin and tonic from a glass as big as a goldfish bowl; Thierry had a pint and a full English. Drinking at 4am wasn’t usually Will’s thing, but of course he’d join in if it meant the team kept inviting him places. He greeted the lads one by one, making his way down the table to the only spare seat, technically on a separate table at the end. Will smiled, gazing down at the man with his head on the table next to his half-eaten croissant.
“Good morning, Colin!”
The Welshman manoeuvred one of his hands to show Will a thumbs up, before wrapping his arms back around his head. Before Will could ask any more questions, Sam leaned across to elaborate.
“Colin’s feeling particularly grumpy this morning because we suggested paying for entry to one of the fancy lounges. It set him off on a bit of a rant about the class system, didn’t it, boyo?” Sam ruffled the brunet’s hair, Colin’s hand now displaying a middle finger in Sam’s general direction.
Will thinks he heard the Welshman mutter ‘fuck off’ against the table, before lifting his head up and taking another bite of his croissant. “There are fifteen flights a day from London to Ibiza, why do we have to get the earliest one?”
“To make the most of our time together, boyo, where’s your holiday spirit?!” Will teased, giggling at Colin’s furrowed brow and petted lip in front of him, still highly unimpressed as Sam booped his nose. “Think of all the extra time you’ll have in the pool!”
Taking another – somewhat aggressive – bite of his croissant, Colin glared straight through him. If looks could kill, Will would be dead about seven times over. Instead, he ordered the sleepy man a decaf latte and read him assorted phrases from his Catalan phrase book, the prospect of joining another independence movement just enough to stop Colin from actually killing anyone. Hopefully it lasted the rest of the trip.
+1
Sunlight poured through the gap in the curtains they’d neglected to close last night. Not that it mattered.
Nothing outside of this bed mattered.
Colin didn’t know where half his clothes were, dropped sporadically around the house as they journeyed from dinner table to bedroom. He didn’t even care.
He ran his thumb across the skin underneath him to make sure last night wasn’t a dream. It was soft and warm. Definitely not a dream.
The man beside him must’ve felt it as his mouth bent into a smile, nuzzling his head closer into Colin’s chest.
Colin could’ve melted. If you’d told him three days ago that he’d still be in the same man from Bantr’s bed, he’d have probably laughed and called you insane. But Michael was even better in person than he’d been on the app. He was kind, funny, a great cook, gives fantastic-
“Morning.” A mumble came from the half-wakened body lying against him.
Colin tightened his grip around the other man, preening as he felt lips move their way along his neck. He couldn’t stifle the hitch of his breath as lips turned to teeth, right as a thigh found itself between his legs. Now he finally understands why there are so many sappy songs about love, because this is paradise. Michael’s eyes twinkled as they briefly paused. He wondered if he was feeling the same internal bliss.
“You know, I love mornings.”
And as their lips met, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t loved them before.