Chapter Text
To: Wilsh [loves Woj]
so uh
dunno if uve heard the news
To: Gibbo :D
what news?
To: Wilsh [loves Woj]
well theyre uh
shutting us down
To: Gibbo :D
what
Jack stares at the message again in disbelief. What does he mean, they’re shutting us down? He debates about it in his head for a few moments before gritting his teeth and dialing Gibbo’s number. He needs to hear this explained in words.
“Hey Wilsh.” Gibbo picks up after just one ring, which means he was probably expecting the call.
“Gibbo, they’re not actually - they can’t -” Jack struggles for words.
“They can, unfortunately, and they are,” Gibbo says softly. Jack can hear the sadness in his voice.
“Our Nando’s?” Jack asks, his voice breaking slightly.
“It’s - Sepp Blatter, the owner of the franchise, said it’s too small. Doesn’t provide enough revenue apparently.” He mumbles something else that sounds like it’s in a different language. Jack guesses it’s probably Welsh.
“I - I can’t believe it,” Jack says numbly. “What’re we supposed to do?” Sure, Jack has joked many times that their Nando’s is the smallest one he’s ever seen, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t become a home to him. “And what about the kids?” he realizes suddenly. “God, they’ll be devastated.”
“I know, mate,” Gibbo says sympathetically. “Look, I gotta go, me and Rambo had to cancel our movie plans because we’re babysitting the lads as they drink away their sorrows.”
Despite the despair he feels right now, Jack manages to crack a smile at the image of Gibbo and Rambo trying to handle a drunk Chambo, Jenko, and Theo. “Yeah, go for it.”
“And, uh.” Gibbo hesitates for a moment before continuing. “You may want to tell Woj about this too, Wilsh. He’d want to know.”
Jack’s heart sinks further as he imagines how that conversation is going to go. “Yeah. I will. Talk to you later, mate.”
“On the bright side, at least you have an excuse to talk to him all night now. Bye!” Gibbo hangs up before Jack has a chance to tell him to shove off.
He sits in silence, staring at his phone and wondering whether it’s too late to text Woj. After several minutes of indecision, Jack decides that this is too important to wait another second.
To: the real one <3
is it too late for bad news
To: Dimples <3
am i already fired D:
To: the real one <3
NO of course not
its kind of worse actually :/
To: Dimples <3
what could be worse?
To: the real one <3
just got word from gibbo
our fav restaurant is gonna shut down :’(
To: Dimples <3
is this a joke
To: the real one <3
some prick named blatter is shuttin us down no joke mate
To: Dimples <3
mate his name is a joke
blatter? rly? is he named after what he resembles? old sack of piss
“Daddy? What are you laughing at?” Jack looks up to see Archie standing in the doorway, tiredly rubbing his eyes.
Jack sighs and quickly says goodnight to Woj before setting his phone aside. “Why aren’t you in bed, big man?”
“Heard you laughing,” Archie mumbles sleepily. He walks to the couch and settles down next to his father, his head on Jack’s thigh. Jack runs his hand through the boy's hair affectionately, making his bedhead even messier. “I wanna know the joke.”
“Daddy’s friend was just being funny. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He lifts his son into his arms and carries him to his room.
“Was it your friend Woj?”Archie asks through a yawn once Jack has tucked him into bed.
Jack tries to hide his surprise as he answers. “Yeah buddy, it was Woj.”
“Good. I like Woj.” Archie smiles up at his dad before closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into the blankets.
Jack strokes Archie’s hair gently and sighs. “Me too, Arch, me too.”
Gibbo has had to deal with Chambo and Theo while they’re drunk countless times, but he’s never witnessed the combination of his roommates and Jenko being drunk all together. Just by glancing over for a second, he can tell that dealing with those three on his own would be downright impossible. The only upside of the entire situation is that Rambo would never just abandon him and leave him to be the designated driver alone. Gibbo has never been more grateful for Rambo’s company, and that’s saying something because he’s never not grateful for Rambo’s general existence. The two of them sit a short distance away, talking quietly and observing their friends drown their sorrows in alcohol.
The pub isn’t Chambo’s favorite, but the music is loud and the liquor is flowing, so it’s good enough. Jenko is next to him, wearing a pair of his jeans and a t-shirt he also ended up borrowing. He looks so different wearing something other than his usual suits and Chambo likes it, a lot.
“Jenko,” Chambo slurs. “Jenko, I gotta tell you something. It’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Jenko nods. “Sometimes I spill things on you on purpose so that you talk to me.”
“I knew it!” Gibbo says quietly to Rambo. “There was no way he could naturally be that clumsy.”
“Woah, that’s so weird. I wanna talk to you too!” Jenko says, grinning stupidly. “You didn’t have to get food on me though. I woulda talked to you anyway.”
“Glad I did though. You look hot in that shirt, mate. So good,” he says, trailing off at the end.
“Oh god, kill me,” Theo groans. “They’re gross.”
“But I can’t do it anymore,” Chambo says sadly, ignoring Theo. “No more Nando’s.”
“No more drinking either, I think,” Rambo says before they start getting too emotional. “It’s about time we headed home.”
They pile into Rambo’s car with the three intoxicated members of the group in the back. Halfway into the drive, Chambo drops his head on Jenko’s shoulder and starts snoring. There’s a little bit of drool, but at least it’s not ruining yet another one of Jenko’s suits. Gibbo manages a weak smile at the sight. The rest of the journey goes smoothly, but when they reach the dorm, they face a dilemma.
“Wanna stay with Chambo,” Jenko pouts. He makes drunken grabbing motions in Chambo's direction. “Lemme stay with him.”
“You can see him tomorrow,” Gibbo tries, but Jenko just holds Chambo more tightly. “Okay, um, Rambo, what do we do?”
“Let Jenko stay here and you come with me to my place,” Rambo says immediately, as if he had been planning it all along.
“Are you sure, mate?” Gibbo asks, but he’s not doing a great job of hiding how pleased he is. Rambo gives him a look and he raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, let’s get these ones to bed first then.”
After ten minutes of struggling and arguing, Gibbo manages to convince Chambo to sleep in his own bed rather than on the couch with Jenko.
“Listen lads, I like to sit on this couch from time to time and I am not letting the two of you do anything funny on it,” Gibbo warns. “And my bed is strictly off limits, thank you very much.”
“Remember...I’m...still...here,” Theo manages to say before collapsing on his own bed.
Gibbo makes sure to leave a bottle of aspirin on the table in the middle of the room before he turns off the lights. Theo, Chambo, and Jenko are all fast asleep before he even leaves the dorm.
“You alright, mate?” Rambo asks when Gibbo returns to the car. “You’ve been quiet and you look all hassled.”
“It’s nothing,” Gibbo says quietly. Rambo clearly isn’t buying it, but doesn’t press any further. Once they reach the flat, Gibbo heads for the couch the second Rambo has the door open, burying his face in his favorite pillow. Rambo shuffles awkwardly around before he clears his throat. “Mate, it’s been a rough night, I don’t mind sharing a bed. The couch is pretty shit.”
“I’ve slept on it before,” Gibbo says halfheartedly even though he knows from experience that there’s no way he can deny the couch’s mediocrity.
“Yeah, but not today.” Rambo makes the decision for him. “Come on, up you get.”
They pad their way to the bedroom with Gibbo still fiercely cuddling the pillow. Rambo digs through his drawers and throws Gibbo a pair of clean sweats and a t-shirt. Gibbo mutters a thank you and changes quickly before burying himself under the blankets.
“Okay, seriously,” Rambo says, sounding worried. “There’s clearly something wrong, so when are you gonna tell me, mate?”
“I just - I feel like a part of my soul is being ripped out, and I don’t even like working there,” Gibbo says softly.
“I don’t think that’s true,” Rambo says.
“Mate, I only half-like it because you-” Gibbo breaks off abruptly. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. There’s not much we can do.”
“Is that really the only reason you’re upset? It seems like there’s a bit more to it than that.”
Gibbo sighs and turns to look at Rambo. “It’s stupid, okay?” Rambo just looks at him expectantly and he sighs again. “Just - just promise you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”
Rambo looks back at him, confusion written all over his face. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You know, I know you’re working all the time, you’ve student loans to pay off and all. And, well, now there’s not really a reason for you to visit.” Gibbo shrugs. “And anyway, we’re so different from each other, and I’m still in uni, for god’s sake. Soon, I’ll be shipped off to some med school. There aren’t exactly high hopes for keeping this friendship going.”
Realization spreads across Rambo’s face. “Gibbo? Remember how I said some people enjoy the chase? When we were talking with Olive?” It’s Gibbo’s turn to look confused as he nods. “Okay, well, do you really think it was the food that had me coming back to that place every day? Mate, I had chicken five times last week. I almost threw up on day five. The chase is bullshit.”
Gibbo looks blankly at him. “I don’t get it.”
“You know, for a biomed major, you’re really dense sometimes, you know that?”
“Stop talking in stupid riddles then, god, you English majors are ridiculous,” Gibbo says.
“God, I can’t believe I have to actually say it. You’re in my bed, for god’s sake.” Rambo's Welsh accent is unusually heavy as he rambles before taking a deep breath and making his confession. “I’m completely mad for you, mate.”
“You - wait, what?” Gibbo has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.
“I fancy you, Kieran. I have no idea when or how, but at some point, you stopped being just my best mate and became so much more than that. And I wasn’t gonna tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but now you’re so worried that I might just forget about you and I need you to know that I can’t. God, I actually missed you the two days I didn’t come in for dinner the other week. How could I possibly deal with any period of time longer than that?” Gibbo seems to be speechless. He stares at Rambo with his wide, innocent eyes, unable to find the right words. At first, Rambo stares back patiently, knowing that it’s a lot to process, but after a while, fear starts to kick in. “Gibbo, say something, please,” he begs.
“I-” Gibbo starts. “I tried to tell myself that you didn’t, you couldn’t…”
“Look, if you don’t feel that way, I get it. I just thought it’s time you knew.”
“Aaron, if this is gonna happen, you gotta stop cutting me off,” Gibbo manages to joke weakly.
“Sorry,” Rambo mumbles before he registers what was said. “Wait, if what is going to happen?”
Gibbo shakes his head. “Now who’s the dense one?”
“So you - you like me?”
“God, we sound like we’re in secondary school. But yeah, I do, and I have for so long.”
Rambo laughs in both disbelief and relief. “I can’t believe this is happening in my bedroom. This is definitely not how I imagined it.”
“But at least it’s happening,” Gibbo says, smiling his first true smile of the night. “Took us long enough.”
It’s silent for a moment and Rambo awkwardly walks toward the bed. “So, I’m not one to do anything on the first date,” he says, flushing red.
Gibbo smirks. “Always the gentleman. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now hurry up and get over here. Just snuggling, no funny business, I promise.”
“Hector,” Calum repeats for what feels like the millionth time. “Hector, come on, listen.”
“What?” Hector finally says. “I’m trying to think, mate.”
“Me too, that’s why I’ve been trying get you to pay attention for the last ten minutes.”
“Alright, I’m paying attention. It better be a good idea. I’m stopping my train of thought for this.”
“What a tragedy,” Calum says dryly. Hector glares at him. “Okay, okay, well, I think we need to do something to save the restaurant.”
“That’s your grand idea? I thought you had actually come up with a way to do that.”
“I actually do have an idea, but since you’re clearly such a genius maybe now I won’t tell you,” Calum says, frowning.
“Aw, come on, I was only teasing. You know studying for A-levels always puts me in a bad mood. Come on, Calum, enlighten me.”
Calum rolls his eyes. “Well, since you asked so nicely. I think we should make a petition.”
“Huh. That’s actually not a bad plan.” Hector looks grudgingly impressed.
“No need to sound so surprised,” Calum grumbles. “My ideas are always good.”
“May I remind you of your brilliant idea to get an internship at Nando’s?”
“Mate, I seem to recall you telling me just a few hours ago that I am ‘actually pretty good at the whole waiter thing,’ which is pretty much proof that my ideas are always good,” Calum says. “True, I didn’t think they’d actually give me an internship there, but I mean, you can’t deny that it’s been pretty awesome.”
“Mhm.” Hector makes a noncommittal sound, refusing to admit that his friend is completely right. “Now, how are we going to create a petition to save what’s possibly the smallest Nando’s in the area?”
Woj rings the doorbell and waits nervously at the front door of the address Jack had texted him in the morning. It’s only supposed to be a small meeting, just so Jack can show him around the flat and give him a few pointers before he starts working on Monday, but for some reason, Woj’s hands are shaking.
The door opens, and when Jack sees Woj, his face lights up. “Hey! You’re right on time. I just got lunch on the table for the kids, so they won’t bother us for a while.”
Jack steps aside and lets Woj into the flat. It’s a decent sized place, bigger than what Woj has, at least, but the mess of toys makes it hard to walk around without getting a minor injury. “I like it,” Woj says.
“Yeah?” Jack grins, showing off his ridiculous dimples. “It’s a bit of a mess, but it’s home.”
“It’s perfect,” Woj says. You’re perfect, he almost adds, but at that moment, Archie bursts into the room.
“Woj’s here, Woj’s here!” he exclaims delightedly. “Lilah, look, he’s here!” A moment later, there’s a squeal of happiness and a streak of purple as Delilah runs into the living room and clings to Woj’s leg.
“I swear, I don’t know how she manages to get out of her high chair by herself,” Jack sighs. “They must really like you, they dropped their grilled cheese sandwiches to see you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Woj says, grinning. “Seeing as I quite like them as well. And their dad’s alright too, I suppose.”
“Thanks, mate.” Jack bends down to pick up Delilah to hide his blush. “Come on, I might as well show you the kitchen while I put the little ones back in their chairs.”
Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen is clear of toys. The gas stove looks like it’s state-of-the-art and the granite island doubles as a breakfast bar. Jack sees Woj’s amazed look and smiles. “It took me working two steady jobs for three years with no breaks and a few other odd jobs here and there to pay for this room alone.”
“You must really love cooking, yeah?”
“Daddy’s the best cook in the world!” Archie says. “He makes bru - brusetta when me and Lilah are good.”
“Bruschetta,” Jack corrects, smiling at his son fondly. “But yeah, I’m the cook over at the Highbury Café. I like to test out new recipes at home.”
“Mate, bruschetta is my favorite, I’ll definitely be trying that at some point,” Woj says.
“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinners,” Jack says quickly. “It’ll be nice to have someone trying the food besides these ones.” He lowers his voice so the kids can’t hear him as he continues, “And it looks like I’ll be cooking a lot more anyway with Nando’s shutting down and all.”
“I’d be happy to stay,” Woj says immediately. “For dinner, I mean.”
“Woj stay?” Delilah asks through a mouth full of grilled cheese.
“Yes, honey. Now, can you be a good girl and stay here while I show Woj your rooms?” Delilah nods and continues to stuff her face with grilled cheese.
Jack leads Woj down a small hallway and opens the first door on the right. “So this is Delilah’s room. It’s a princess-lego-football mashup because that’s what she demanded as soon as she was old enough to talk and point,” Jack says, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“That’s quite the combination,” Woj grins.
“Her toys are in the corner and her books are in a chest under the bed. She likes to wear her blue dinosaur robe in the mornings and the pink heart one after she showers at night, but the blue fuzzy slippers are for the night and the pink ones are for the morning.” Jack points to where everything is and smiles. “Yeah, she’s quite the handful, but she’s my little girl.”
“You’re great with her,” Woj says. “With both of them. They’re lucky kids.”
“Thanks, mate. I mean, with Archie, it’s a bit easier.” Jack leads him to the next room. “He likes stars. The big man wants to be an astronaut. I’ve got to save up because he’s definitely going to uni.”
“And Delilah?”
“Mate, she’s going to be a footballer. Never seen a three year old nutmeg anyone until this little monster came along. She’s a huge fan, too.”
Woj narrows his eyes. “What team?”
“Arsenal, obviously. Wouldn’t be able to live with myself if it were anything else,” Jack says.
“You’ve got good taste,” Woj tells him, feeling relieved. “I was seriously afraid you’d say Chelsea or something.”
“You’re a Gunner too? That’s a relief. I might’ve had to fire you otherwise,” Jack jokes. “I tried a babysitter who was a Tottenham fan once. Delilah didn’t like him. I wasn’t too keen either.”
“How about your new babysitter?” Woj asks faux-innocently.
“Definitely cuter than the last guy, that’s for sure.” Jack says it without thinking, and a second later his brain catches up to his mouth, his face turning bright red. “Well, the last guy was an old man,” he adds quickly.
Woj somehow manages to raise an eyebrow and smirk at the same time. “Alright, well thanks mate, I’m flattered.”
“Shut up,” Jack says without any heat.
“They couldn’t wait until I was finished with this novel to close down this place, could they?” Mikel slams his laptop shut, frustrated.
“Mikel…” Tomas tries to interrupt, but Mikel continues to pace back and forth, gesticulating wildly.
“Do they not understand how much effort we put into this place? We’ve been at it for years now! And for what? For them to just shut it down, taking away the only source of inspiration I’ve had for months!” He stops abruptly in the middle of the room and finally looks at Tomas. When he speaks again, his voice is much softer, much sadder. “What are we going to do, Tommy?”
“We could always ask Blatter to reassign us. We could manage at another Nando’s.”
Mikel looks at him pointedly. “You know the restaurant isn’t the only thing I’m talking about.”
Tomas sighs. “Yes, I know. We can’t just leave them all behind.” He shakes his head slightly. “It’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it? We must be the only restaurant managers in the world who managed to become emotionally attached not just to the employees, but to the customers too.”
Mikel manages a weak laugh. “I mean, it’s not really normal for the same twenty people constantly come in week after week either. They’re just as attached as we are. And they’re great character inspirations.”
Tomas nods in agreement. After a few moments, he brings up another thing neither of them really want to think about. “You know we’re gonna have to talk to Arsene about this. That man never checks his emails.”
Mikel groans. “That’s gonna be awful. He really wanted us to do better than that Jose Mourinho’s place. I’m going to kill Terry if he rubs this in my face. He’s always on about how great that place is doing.”
Tomas is silent for moment, lost in thought. “We could try to save this place,” he says.
“How the hell do we do that?” Mikel asks.
Almost as if the universe was waiting to answer this question, there’s a loud and frantic knock at the door. “Who would possibly come here at this hour?”
Before either of them can invite the person in, the door bursts open to reveal a slightly out of breath Hector accompanied by Calum. “Um,” Hector starts awkwardly when he notices Tomas and Mikel staring at them with a mixture of shock and confusion. “The door was unlocked. And also, I didn’t think this through. Sorry.”
“I always say you never think things through,” Calum adds helpfully. “But no, why would anyone listen to Calum?”
Mikel clears his throat. “Why are you boys here? It’s one in the morning.”
They look at him in surprise. “It is? Time sure does fly when you’re...well, not having fun exactly, what would you say we were doing?” Calum turns to Hector.
“Plotting?” Hector offers.
“Boys! This isn’t helping!” Tomas shifts the attention back to the issue.
“Alright, one of you tell me what you’re here for and the other one, shut up. Hector, why don’t you do the talking?” Mikel says.
Hector stands a little straighter, pleased to have Mikel’s attention (Calum rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics). “Well, me and Calum were obviously very upset about the news, and we decided that we need to do something about it. So I was thinking -” he breaks off as Calum kicks his shin. “Ow! Okay, fine, it was Calum’s idea. Anyway, the idea is to make a petition to save the restaurant.”
“How would a petition help? This is Sepp Blatter we’re talking about. He only cares about money. A few names means nothing to him,” Tomas says.
“I’d say it’s probably our best option, though,” Mikel says.
“That’s because it’s our only option,” Tomas says. “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, I’m just saying to keep in mind that it probably won’t have the effect we want it to.”
“Well, maybe if Sepp sees that these customers love this place and are constantly bringing their friends, he might reconsider,” Hector says.
Mikel laughs humorlessly. “That’s a nice sentiment lad, but this man has no emotions. Tommy was right when he said that Blatter only cares about money.”
Calum hands Mikel the petition. “Well, we can at least try.”