Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

If Trent had been asked three years ago what a team managed by Roy Kent would look like, the first fifty words to come to mind would not even have been in the vicinity of 'calm'. Yet, here they were, in of the busiest stretches of the season and the locker room was an oasis of soothed masculine energy. There was some shouting and spurts of laughter, of course, but for the most part everyone was in good spirits and not even particularly loud about it.

"Morning, Trent!" Colin called, always the first one to spot him.

"Good morning," he acknowledged and Colin gave him a warm smile before turning back to Ash, listening intently to what seemed to be a restaurant review.

The manager's office was already occupied, Roy glaring at his laptop as if everything on it deeply offended him and Beard with his feet up on the desk, halfway through his latest book, a broken spine copy of Open by Andre Agassi. Trent had never taken to Agassi and he was hoping that Beard got through this one quickly so he could stop seeing the man's face every morning.

"Good morning."

"Is it?" Roy fumed at the screen, "Did you see the coverage on the new kid starting for Chelsea last night?"

"Brutal," Trent frowned. "Do we know if he's all right?"

"Not sure. I've got a call in, but I doubt they'll tell me anything."

The double injury mid-game, including the appearance of a stretcher was alarming. The kind of thing that made any manager worth their salt nervous at the mere thought. Roy was worth a lot of salt.

"I could ask around," Trent offered.

"Cheers," Roy said. "Do that."

Beard gave an acknowledging nod and Trent stepped away into his and Nate's office. Being possessive of the space was asinine, but Trent had gotten very fond of the scarred old desk that had seen the abuse of many assistant coaches over the years.

"Good morning," he said to Nate.

"Good morning, did you see about that Chelsea player?"

"Yes, horrible."

Nate leaned back in his chair a little. They had spoken, very briefly and without much eye contact, upon Nate's return about the article. Their contrite conspiracy of two had led to a much more peaceable shared office space than Trent had had last year, if significantly less interesting. Jade was a lovely girl, but her conversations with Nate on the phone were direct and mission-based with brisk endearments, not exactly the stuff of eavesdropping pleasures. Keeley had the good grace to be interesting and then gone, poor thing. Though she seemed to have returned with a vengeance recently.

"We're going to flip training today, scrimmage first then narrow down on drills," Nate said.

"Interesting. Why the change?"

"Mostly to see what happens," Nate said with a faint smile.

"Experimental. I like it."

That was that. Trent sent out a few texts to contacts, fishing for more information, then set about transcribing his recorded interview with Coach Iyengar. One half of the women's coaching team, she was disarmingly charismatic and Trent knew he'd have to to re-interview her in a few weeks to get the information he actually wanted.

He set a timer, aware of Nate leaving and the room quieting. When it went off, he'd made good enough headway that he allowed himself to slip on his jacket and go out to the pitch. Warmups were finishing up, his timing perfect.

"Right," Roy said, "divvy up. Scrimmage."

By now, Trent could predict the general reactions of all of them with decent accuracy: Isaac, stoic; Bumbercatch, animated yet agreeable; Richard and Jan Maas, deeply affronted; Dani, excited and ready; Colin, cautiously bemused' Sam, calmly amused; and so on. These days though, Trent looked to the bellwether for the final say.

Jamie was near the center of the pack this morning, his orange headband making him even more of a siren for attention than usual. He had taken the news with a hint of tension around his mouth, apparently, waiting for something.

"We're rotating the crops," Beard said. "Let's figure out what's fertile. We'll do drills in the afternoon depending on what happens."

Jamie's face cleared and he bounced a little in place. Ready. Willing. It rippled out from him. Not a single other player was looking directly at him, but they all visibly relaxed and accepted things. Five minutes later, they were going at it as if this was how things always ran. Trent took out his notebook and got to writing. He had no idea what he would do with any of his observations, but that had never stopped him from making them.

"Working hard?" Rebecca's voice filtered down to him.

"Yes," Trent said because it was true, even if it wasn't what he should be working on. "What brings you down here this morning?"

She sat one seat away from him, elegant as always, her cream coat miraculously spotless.

"I saw that Chelsea player's fall in the highlights this morning," she said, scanning the field. "I thought I'd…I don't know, honestly."

Trent understood entirely.

"When Bonnie was an infant, I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and check to see if she was breathing. Horrible feeling."

"They are not my children," Rebecca said crisply, then relented. "But yes. Something like that."

They watched together as Sam wove through Isaac's team, picked the ball out from under Richard and got it to Jamie seamlessly. Jamie went on a tear towards the goal, only to pass it back to Sam at the last second, who got it safely to Colin. In a puckish unchecked dash, Colin sank it deep into the goal.

"What the fuck was that?" Roy asked. "Who was on Hughes?" Silence. Sheepish looks. "Fuck's sake, get with the program. He's supposed to lull the other side into a false sense of security, then murder them, not you lot."

It was a delight to Trent's soul to see Colin puff up a little at that. Roy would never give a player a heartfelt, softly-worded pep talk, but he didn't need to. His very gruffness meant even secondhand compliments landed on his players' chests like first place ribbons. It wasn't the Lasso Way, but the Kent Way had its charms.

"Do you ever get sick of watching all this?" Rebecca asked.

"Honestly?" Trent tracked Isaac, who was taking the critique to heart and pointing one of the reservists at Colin. "Never."

Football was the one thing that Trent had had in common with his father. For a blissful ninety minutes, they could sit in perfect solidarity and yell at the same moments, temporarily on the same side. One of Trent's earliest memories was his father lifting him up at a triumphant 3-0 victory, Richmond's first win of the season, so he could see the players celebrating. There had been many loves of Trent's life, but football was the first.

Maybe he should've told Ted that in the restaurant that day. What do you love? And Trent had sat in silence, the answer too large to hand over to a stranger. Football, Ted. My wife. My daughter. My father, even though I also hate him a little, and my mother, if one can be said to actively love the dead. And Poe, our enormous cat that barely moves. And Pietro, the first man I kissed after many long years of wanting, even though it ended badly. And Freddy, my best and most terrible friend.

Writing, yes. That too. But more importantly, the act before the writing. The seeking, Ted. I love the seeking and the asking and the finding. If I didn't, I'd write fiction.

"I used to be so bored by it," Rebecca said. "I'd sit up there every match and wish I could be anywhere else, doing anything else. Now, I like this. Maybe I needed to see this to understand that."

"It does clarify things," Trent said. The reservist got into Colin's space and Colin allowed it, dropping back. Shifting positions. "The beautiful game."

"It is," Rebecca laughed. "Mud, sweat, blood and all."

Technically, Trent was not an employee and should not be getting fed lunch every day, but in practice, no one blinked as he took his share. The part of him that would always be a feral broke muckraker delighted in the idea of a free lunch. The rest of him was also very happy with it. He ate with Roy, Beard and Nate, their informal fourth without question these days.

"Holt did well on Colin," Nate ventured.

"No," Roy said.

The 'no work talk at lunch' rule was new with Roy as well. Ted had been happy to talk over his sandwiches about the mornings drills. While Roy would most likely have been happiest if they all ate in profound silence, he had begrudgingly allowed non-work small talk and sometimes even participated.

"Jane and I are going to Edinburgh for the November break," Beard said.

"Delightful city," Trent offered. "Let me know if you'd like any restaurant recommendations."

"We're going to drop acid and go to a rave, but we do have to eat before that."

"I'll email a few things to you," Trent said, already evaluating restaurants based on psychedelics. It had been some time, but he remembered enough.

"I'm taking Jade to Marseilles," Nate said. "She wants to see France, but she thinks Paris is overrated."

"Is there anything Jade thinks is rated?" Beard asked. 

"Ducks," Nate said with a slight smile.

"And you," Trent said.

"Apparently," Nate blinked at him a few times as if that information was still new.

"I'm going to New York," Roy said and took a bite of his wrap.

They all looked at him.

"Why?" Beard asked.

"What? You're the only ones who can have holiday plans?"

"No," Nate said. "But…why New York?"

"It's a place to see, isn't it?"

Trent had been a very good reporter. His editor at The Independent had attempted to put him on a politics beat once a year for his entire tenure there, certain that he would crack a scandal open in minutes. Trent was also gayer than a daisy on a spring afternoon which meant he did not suffer from permanent Heteronormative Blinders like most of the rest of the club. He saw things. He organized them. He made sense of them. And he did it without the assumption that everyone craved the same things in life.

On the clock, coach and player were ruthless with each other. Roy spared Jamie not a breath of leniency, cursing his very name at least once a training and Jamie gave it right back to him, full of sass and posturing. It wasn't serious for the most part, the kind of routine shit that lads' lads gave each other, instead of their once fiery animosity. At this point, was it truly a training if one of them hadn't flipped the other off at some point?

Trent lingered after training almost every day. It was quieter, he could transcribe and organize his notes without interruption as Roy and Beard silently communed and Nate slipped out to have time with Jade before she went to work. Trent stayed even after Beard had left and Roy did the small administrative tasks that piled up on his desk.

Which meant Trent had, somewhat accidentally, and then purposefully, seen Roy and Jamie leave together at the end of the day. Every day. For weeks. It wasn't a secret. The team were all positive that Jamie had had some kind of car accident and resolved not to prod him about it in case it was traumatic. Which was sweet, if a little dumb.

In Heternormative Blinders world, Jamie waited in the locker room doing something on his phone, Roy would finish for the day, walk out there, and bark something to try to get Jamie moving. Then Jamie would make a show of only just now realizing one last thing to make Roy wait for him in return. They would snipe at each other, then walk out together, not touching, in lockstep.

What Trent saw was the way Roy's stiff gait turned into a loose prowl as he left the office. The way Jamie would look up from his phone and his expression would soften into adoration as Roy approached him. They would linger for a moment, Roy standing and Jamie at waist level, leaning back flirtatiously while he delivered today's delay with a lick of his lips. Assuming they were unobserved, they were still not entirely unguarded, but all the sharpness fell away from them both and their banter turned into affectionate nonsense. As they left, their shoulders would brush together and Jamie would sometimes lean in to whisper something that made Roy laugh.

All that to say that later that day, when Trent asked Isaac about his plans for the break, he asked in front of Jamie intentionally.

"I'm going to sleep," Isaac said. "For two days. Drink for two days. Recover for two days."

"Excellent plan," Trent said. "Jamie?"

"I've got an interview thing in New York," Jamie said and Trent's felt a pang of melancholy vindication.

Trent stopped at Tescos on the way home, in the mood to make his mother's stew as occasionally struck him. When he reached his front door, it opened before he could put in his key.

"Hello, darling," Jiya said. "Oh, is that dinner?"

"It can be," he said, taking in her dress and the earring she trying to put in. "But it doesn't look like you'll be home for it."

"Oh, I don't know," Jiya said, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek and then moving aside for him to come in. "I keep picking up my phone to cancel."

"What's wrong with this one?" Trent asked, carrying the tote into their kitchen.

Their home was on the older side, every room a hair too small, but none of them were big people. They made it work. Even if the counter top was so crowded that they'd bought a board to put over the sink to chop veg on.

"He's so…" Jiya trailed off and got her earring it at last.

"Broad? Fit?"

"Inarticulate," she groaned. "I don't know. The sex is fantastic, but where's the conversation?"

"Mm, a problem for the ages," he agreed, taking things out. "Are you still having fun?"

"For half the night," she groaned. "This is like you and that cameraman."

"Do not remind me," Trent pulled a face. "That was…a staggering error in judgment."

"You staggered into him fifteen times, darling."

"I remember. Learn from my mistakes."

"You just want to make stew."

"I will do that even if you go out," Trent said magnanimously. "I'll put your serving in the fridge."

"Mummy!" Bonnie called down the stairs, "Did you ask Daddy if I can sleep over Allison's tonight?"

"There goes your dining partner," Jiya said. "I was about to say that Allison's mother called. You know how much she's wanted to since we had to cancel last time."

"Well. Fine," Trent sighed. "She needs to de-fur herself though."

"Oh, yes, good point," Jiya said then called back up, "Your father says to get your lint roller to your pajamas first so you don't give Allison sneezing fits"

"Ok!"

Jiya smoothed down her dress a little.

"So? Even less reason to stay," Trent pointed out. "Go out."

"I don't know," she said again.

"Dear heart, just go," Trent said. "Have a good time. If he's that dull, start with the sex and then eat the dinner off his abs."

Jiya laughed, "Well, when you put it that way. All right. You sure you don't mind?"

"It'll taste better tomorrow anyway."

Bonnie pranced down the stairs, her overnight bag already over her shoulder. She was a small thing even for six and a half, a genetic throwback to Trent's own mother, a petite person in every way. Her hair could've come from either of them, jet black and full, currently in adorable space buns. The liquid dark doe eyes and warm brown skin were Jiya's, the set of her chin and the shape of her face was his. The rest of her, she was making herself.

Today's outfit was her favorite bright green slacks and a baby pink sweatshirt. Nothing went together, but she had assembled it herself. She already had a point of view and opinions too strong to argue away. 

Sometimes, Trent loved her so much that he was paralyzed by it.

"I packed my bag." She held out the little backpack for inspection.

Trent went through it while Jiya reminded her that she could call and come home whenever she wanted. Pajamas, pants, stuffed walrus and a change of clothes were all accounted for. The meticulousness was from both of them, in their own ways.

"Toothbrush," he reminded her.

"I forgot!" She dashed back up the stairs.

A few more items later, including her pillow and then Trent walked her the three houses down. The girls had been best of friends for two years. They ran in and out of the two homes as if they both equally belonged at each. Still, Trent checked in with Allison's mother and got a promise of a phone call if anything was even slightly wrong.

Then Trent left, a little bereft to find Jiya standing at the front door as if she'd been watching them the whole time. Maybe she had.

"Right," Jiya breathed out. "I'm going to go. Do I look all right?"

Trent took her in properly and said, "You are, as always, the most gorgeous woman alive."

"You, as always, are full of shit," she announced and kissed him.

The damage Trent had done to her was invisible. Craters that he'd left in her self-esteem while he tried to survive his own quiet suffocation. He had spent the last five years trying to help her refill those horrific dents as best he could. In return, she shoveled pride back into him, helping to patch up the drywall of his heart where her fists had gone through it in cold revenge.

How he loved her, resplendent in her unwavering love whether it was righteously angry or calmly content.

"Have fun," he said.

"Maybe I will," she said.

"Come home if you don't. I'll only be reading in bed all night."

"All right," she paused, then said very sternly, "Do not email him."

"Why would I? He hasn't written me back yet," he said.

"Darling," she sighed. "You're a disaster."

"I am all too aware. Good night, good luck."

"Good night."

She slipped away and left him to make his lonely dinner.

It was nights like this as he diced carrots and shook out herbs that no one else would taste that he missed the sports beat. He could've gone hounding in pubs or driving out to a match that he wasn't technically being paid to cover and still get in for free.

Instead, he ate at the kitchen table next to Jiya's closed laptop and Bonnie's audition script, her lines highlighted in green and forgotten in favor of giggling with her best friend.

Before Trent could resign himself to a book, he checked his email. Naturally, tonight was the night Ted has chosen to write back.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: re:Book Tour Interviews

Hi Trent,

Thanks for reaching out again. It's good to hear from you. Henry got over that cold and now the only one sneezing is me. Isn't that always the way? Tiny little adorable Typhoid Marys. The spelling test went well, thanks for the tip off on that one. I should've thought of making up songs, and now I'll be I-R-R-E-G-U-L-A-R ing to myself every morning while I brush my teeth. We did it to the tune of Pink Pony Club which is a song I didn't know he knew. Every day an adventure.

The team here is really something. You'd love nosing around here, learning their stories. Good kids, all of them, on their way to being good men.

I saw the book trending on social media. No, that's a lie, sorry. Keeley told me it was when I talked to her and Rebecca yesterday. You know me and the feeds, like oil and vinegar. Have to shake vigorously to do anything worth doing. They want me to do Tiktoks here, so I keep turning my phone over to my players and hoping for the best. If you get anything weird sent to you from me, please let me know. They keep talking about 'brainrot' like it's a good thing. You know anything about that?

Maybe the slang doesn't go across the pond, I don't know. Henry's version of slang is still Minecraft references. Have you ever played Minecraft? You'd like the digging part, not the zombie part, I'll bet. Horror movies don't seem like you're thing. Unless they are? I never liked them. Real life can be scary enough.

How are things with you?

-Ted

Trent read the email with his hand over his mouth. He did that every time. It was only practical. Sometimes, the man simply made him want to scream, but in this case, Trent wanted badly to talk back to the email and he simply refused to be the kind of person that talked to himself. He had enough bad habits, he wasn't looking to cultivate new ones at nearly forty-five.

He had never broken a promise to Jiya, but he hadn't made her one tonight. Even if he should have to defend his own peace of mine.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: you can ignore these but they are the thesis statement of the email

Dear Ted,

I need to let my publicist know by the end of the month if I can expect to do any of these events with someone else, so if you could answer in either direction it would greatly appreciated.

To my incredible shock, I have gotten Roy to agree to one book signing, but I believe it's because it fulfills his contractual obligation to attend a non-Richmond event twice a quarter to represent the team. Either way, I'm excited to see how he reacts to a novel situation. Yes, that is a pun. No, it's not a particularly good one. No, I will not be engaging further.

It's good to hear that Henry has recovered. I sympathize deeply. Bonnie brought home norovirus last spring. I'm not overly fond of horror movies as you guessed and that certainly counted.

I did see that your team has been on an unexpected winning streak. I was impressed by that final field goal against Concordia. I can tell that Total Football hasn't left your mind just yet in some of the plays. They translate over shockingly well.

I can't help you on brainrot, but I am, unfortunately, also intimately familiar with the ins and outs of Minecraft. I have save many a pixilated man from drowning as Bonnie struggles with the jump mechanics.

-Trent

He hit send before he could go back and edit himself. There was nothing obvious or raw on the page. It was practically a dry work email to his editor.

Trent got up,cleaned off his plate and stored the rest of the stew for tomorrow's family consumption. Running out of things to fuss over downstairs, he went upstairs to their bedroom. Jiya had left her work clothes out on the bed, a sign of her indecision. With care, Trent hung up what was still clean and sorted the rest into the laundry. Poe materialized and hopped into his spot at the foot of the bed, purring like a chainsaw.

The light from the street came in through the lone window, tinted a dusky yellow by the gauzy curtains they had hung when they bought the house and now always had a fine layer of dust on top. Neither of them were careful cleaners and time had a way of slipping by.

Trent stripped down to his pants and got into bed, picking up his current read. It was an unexceptional novel, but he liked the writing style and he didn't mind spending a few hours with it. Patience was a journalist's primary virtue, in a field that far more valued sins.

And he was being patient. With the novel. With himself. With his idiot heart. With the whole ridiculous, beautiful, horrible world.

Most of the time.

The next day, he decided being patient was also very dull, so he sat down next to Jamie and talked to him until Jamie came out of the closet and Trent could let him know that he knew about Roy as gently as he could. And Trent didn't write any of it down.

He may, ever so slightly, gossiped about it though.

"Oh thank fuck he told you," Colin gushed out as Trent handed him a cup of tea.

There was even less reason for Trent go to away games then there were for him to get free lunch, but if he showed up at the bus, they let him on and if he happened to have a room at the same hotel, no one asked about it. It had gotten to the point that when he had to miss a game because the family budget that month did not allow for another hotel room, he had gotten a barrage of texts and calls asking if he'd died. At insistent request, he had made a video call to wish them all luck and they had cheered even as they hung up on him immediately after. After that, Beard handed him a key card every time they arrived at the hotel and said 'Booking mistake' with zero conviction.

Trent was not above a little charity in his favor. He wasn't above much at all, actually. So he could enjoy a complementary breakfast buffet with Colin at six am and some light gossip without a trace of shame.

"Been keeping that in long?" Trent asked.

"A few weeks," Colin admitted. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to talk to someone about it."

"It can't have surprised you that he was queer."

"Well, no," Colin wrapped his hands around his paper cup. "I mean, yes, but not as much as if it had been someone else. Jamie always did give off an odd vibe. And then eyebrow cut was…a choice. Funny looking back now though."

"What part of it?"

"When Jamie came to us from Man City, I thought he was just about the fittest man I'd ever met," Colin said with a laugh. "And then he started talking and it drained away about half of that. But I kept on following after anyway. Got dick-matized without the good part. Not my favorite memories."

Trent nodded, "It's easy to get suckered in to poor behavior to impress someone. Even when we know in our hearts they're not worth it."

"Exactly," Colin said and took a sip of his tea. "The funny bit is that these days I don't even fancy him a little. Isn't that fucked? Now that he's all nice and into animals and generous with his time and all, the idea of snogging him gives me the ick! What's that say about me?"

"That you grew out of him and that's fine."

"What if I just liked that he was awful? Do I like awful people?"

"Michael isn't awful," Trent pointed out. "He's mostly very nice."

"He is," Colin said with a half-smile.

"There you have it. "

"He loves me," Colin whispered over his cup to Trent like it was the greatest secret in the world. "He told me on Saturday. Out of nowhere while we were sitting on the balcony doing fuck all."

"That's lovely," Trent said. "Did you say it back?"

"I did," Colin met his eyes shyly. "Never done that before."

"Here's to first times then," Trent held out his cup and Colin gently touched his to it.

The November break should have been a productive time. After all, Trent had a kid to parent, a book to write, a house to tidy, and friends to make the rounds with. Instead, Trent hibernated. He did parent and cook, but while Bonnie was at school and Jiya went to work, he read. It was the season for reading, he reasoned, drippy and cold out without truly being winter yet.

He got lucky toward the end of the week. Freddy had blown back into town. The first night they'd met  Freddy had told Trent: 'Don't fall in love with me, I'm not dependable and I'm an enormous slut'. Trent had obeyed and that had earned him a friend for life. Fit beyond words, sharp as a razor, and flaky as a croissant, Freddy flitted from man to man and from country to country for work and play. Whenever he was in town and single though, he called Trent and they had a grand time.

"Anyone new in your life?" Freddy asked, stretched out on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. They were sharing a joint, after sharing each other and Trent was terribly relaxed.

"Not at the moment," he said, inhaling, holding it in for several seconds then letting it all out in a slow cloud, before passing the joint back to Freddy.

"What happened with that guy? The one you couldn't figure out?"

"I'm still at the mystery stage and probably will be for life." Ted would start singing Piano Man if he heard that. And the waitress is practicing politics/ As the businessmen slowly get stoned indeed.

"Tragic," said Freddy. "How about you try to fall in love with someone attainable?"

"How about you fall in love with someone who isn't a rancid asshole?"

"Boo, you whore," Freddy groaned. "Why do you always punch below the belt?"

"No one ever taught me how to play nice," Trent said and lay down next to him. "Sorry."

"You're not. That's all right, you're wrong anyway. I don't love people, remember? It only ties you up and does your head in."

Sometimes, Trent wondered who had broken Freddy's heart so completely. It was probably best that he didn't know. Trent tried not to harbor hate in his heart, and he would certainly hate that man with every fiber of his being.

"It does," Trent conceded, "but sometimes that's beautiful."

They ate lunch under the weak November sun later, ravenous for cold cuts, and each other's company. Freddy told him four months worth of stories and Trent told him, coded and veiled, about the newer younger queer men in his life.

"It's good that they have you," Freddy said. "Can you imagine if we'd had that?"

"What a life," Trent said.

"What a world."

They said goodbye the next morning. Freddy was on his way to Morocco and Trent home to his wife. Jiya greeted him with a sly knowing look and let him nap on the sofa without too much teasing.

The team came back and Trent returned with them, grateful for the reinstatement of routine. He watched training, took notes, started to get his head back into his own book. A normal day. Until he overheard the team asking Jamie about Ted and Trent heard the familiar sound of Jamie Tartt evading verbal capture.

So he caught him. It was supposed to be a routine enough thing. Ask a leading question, get the answer, release the subject.

Jamie eyed him up, told him to stay then returned with Colin and dragged Trent into the boot room like a man possessed.

Trent did not need more emotional support in his life. He had Jiya, Freddy, the Diamond Dogs and several ex-colleagues who still called him for information and occasionally friendship. So it absolutely should not have made him so pleased to have gained a 'book club'. Especially such a nosy one.

"Have you asked him yet?" Jamie checked in a week later.

"Hm?" Trent looked up from his laptop. Jamie was leaning in the doorway of the office, trying and failing to look even remotely casual.

"Asked who what?" Nate asked.

"Trent is doing some research for me," Jamie said casually.

"About what?" Nate frowned.

"Private equity loans?" Jamie floated.

"I will give five pounds if you tell me what those are right now," Nate said.

"No," Trent told Jamie, "but I promise I'll let you know as soon as I find the rate of returns."

"Cheers," Jamie said and strolled away.

"I don't know if you two speaking in code is a good sign or a bad sign," Nate said.

"Strictly neutral for you," Trent assured him and went back to writing.

November slid into December, the cold developed teeth. Trent got out his fleece-lined jacket and spent more time than he'd like getting Bonnie to wear hers.

"I don't need one," she huffed. "It's not that cold."

"It's cold enough," he would insist and wonder if this was a preview of years to come when he would chase after a teenager with a hat that she'd shove to the bottom of her bag as soon as he looked away. Sorry, Mum.

"Do you remember what we used to wear in the winter?" Jiya asked when Bonnie had gone.

"Hopes, dreams and slashed jeans," he said. "But we were teenagers, not primary school children."

"Oh, if twenty-two year old you could hear you now," she said and he laughed along with her because that punk would've gone absolutely feral about sounding like a tired scolding old man.

Can you take call? Trent texted Ted on Wednesday afternoon that had already gone dark. The taste of snow was in the air, a threat that hadn't manifested.

Anytime! If anytime is in the next half hour. It's about to get busy here.

Trent called. He heard Ted's voice live for the first time in three months and he talked about the book club of all things. He didn't press him for a commitment or run him down. He didn't really ask him questions. He threatened him with annotations.

Trent always asked questions and he still had so many for Ted. A thousand. An ocean of them. He wanted to sit Ted down and look into his eyes again and ask him things for hours. Even if he couldn't get the man to answer any of them. The warmth of his company as he evaded would be enough.

The book went into an envelope and into the post. Trent hadn't even liked it much, except that the tone and the themes and the everything about it made him think of Ted in a way. Then again, he had read it in the era where everything made him think of Ted a little.

As if that era had ended instead of being a grinding ongoing problem.

With great reluctance, Trent opened a group chat that he had been added to without consent by Colin, the adorable traitor.

Rainbow Book Club

Trent: I say this with great reluctance and very little urgency, but it is customary for book clubs to have a meeting occasionally.

Jamie: so right

Colin: I haven't even started six of crows yet

Will: I bought a copy. It's long.

Jamie: you are all killing me here our silver fox friend is sending up the bat signal and you are all talking shit

Colin: I don't read comics either

Trent: We can wait to finish the book.

Jamie: fuck that Saturday at noon my place I'll make lunch

Colin: Can you do the pesto chicken?

Jamie: only because its dead easy this isn't a restaurant hughes

Will: I don't know where you live.

Jamie: I'll send you the address with the understanding that everything you see here is a solemn secret William understood?

Will: got it

Jamie: Keels is asking if the lady contingent of the club is welcome

Colin: Who's that?

Jamie: Her and Abby Trent your meeting your call

Trent: It's our meeting and that's fine. I've wanted to meet Miss Monroe for some time.

Jamie: do not interview my ex gf when we're doing feelings mate that's weird

Trent: I won't. I may schedule one though.

Jamie: can't stop you still weird tho

An address arrived not long after that.

"Dear heart," Trent started, putting his head around the bathroom door as Jiya brushed her hair out. "Do we have Saturday plans that I'm forgetting?"

"No, darling. Something come up?"

"First official meeting with my new book club."

"I thought it was like the Diamond Dogs? All meetings done at work?"

"I thought so too, but apparently we're going to Jamie's home."

She gave him a speculative look. "What do you think that'll be like?"

"Interesting."

"And what book are you discussing?"

"Volume II of my ongoing issue of fancying the most unattainable man in existence. I figured better them than you."

"That was kind of you," she smiled. "I did do a lot of work on Volume 1 though. I expect an acknowledgement."

"I'll dedicate it to you," he promised.

What did one bring for lunch to a twenty-six year old footballer's home? Jamie had enough money to attain whatever he wanted. Trent's normal go-to was out as he'd overheard Jamie turning down drinks with a wink and smile at several hotel bars over the last few months. After a little too long in Tescos, he found himself at home making hummus from scratch. It wasn't hard and looked decent with some cut up carrots and celery. That had to be the most book club snack in existence and even on their strictest days, Jamie and Colin could have as much of it as they liked.

It was far too much thought for an afternoon with men that still considered overpriced hoodies to be the height of fashion.

Jamie's house looked exactly like Trent expected: a monument of glass and chrome, obnoxious in it's wealth. Keeley's car was already there, and she was the one who answered the door. She was dressed down for her, creamy leggings, cabled sweater and bare feet.

"Hi,' she said with a smile. "Come on, Jamie is in the kitchen. Oh, did you bring hummus? Nice."

The ground floor was loosely open plan, the kitchen cut off from view by the front hall, but once they rounded the corner, the spaces rolled into each other. The sheer coldness of metal and glass was cut through with eccentric personal touches. An array of toys of some kind lined a shelf of the kitchen, whimsical tiny windmills held a spot of honor on windowsill, family photos paraded over a mantle and there was a graphic art piece in the living room that would've matched many of Jamie's more outlandish outfits.

Evidence of another resident were dotted around: a stack of books sat on the sleek low chest of drawers beneath the dormant enormous television, Richmond branded folders thick with paperwork stacked on the corner of the counter, and most tellingly, a pair of very familiar black trainers tucked under the coffee table, kicked off and forgotten.

There was a bowl of fruit salad on the kitchen table. Trent sat his hummus plate beside it.

And there was Jamie himself, dressed down as much as Keeley was. His hair was loose around his face for once, long enough now to touch his jawline. He was stirring a saucepan as if it were a very normal activity for him.

"Trent brought hummus. It looks homemade," Keeley said.

"It is," Trent said.

"Cheers for that," Jamie said. "Do you want something to drink? There's water, Diet Coke, and lime squash."

"And lemonade ," Keeley tagged on.

"Water is fine, thank you," Trent said.

For a full ten minutes, Trent got to enjoy the truly strange experience of watching Jamie Tartt make a meal. He was a scattershot chef, roaming around the kitchen making idle talk, then returning to his task as if he'd never stopped. Nothing burned, so there must be a method underlying it all.

The doorbell rang and Keeley went to get it.

"If you don't actually want to talk about it in front of everyone, we can just not," Jamie said.

"No, that's fine," Trent said. "At this point, having a larger opinion pool can only help. My wife is thoroughly sick of me talking about it."

"You have a wife?" Jamie asked, turning on him. "Really?"

"Really," Colin said. He stepped in next to Trent, companionably bumping his shoulder into Trent's arm. "She's fantastic."

"I agree," said Trent. "But she is also thoroughly sick of listening to all this. You can stop doing calculus about it Jamie, we have an open marriage."

"Oh, got it," Jamie's face cleared up. "Polyamory is the fucking best. Col, you're missing out."

"No, thank you. One boyfriend is enough for me, thank you."

"So, you're bi?" Jamie asked. "Or pan? I need it for my numbers."

"You've got me, babes," Keeley reminded him.

Trent added one and one and one together. Maths all over this afternoon. No wonder she was so comfortable playing host in Jamie's house.

"I'm gay," Trent said.

Jamie took that on board, nodded once and went back to stirring his sauce. "I suppose that's one for Colin then."

"I was competing?" Colin asked, baffled.

"No," Keeley assured him at the same time Jamie said, "Kind of."

The bell rang again before any more explanation was forthcoming. Will and Abby had arrived at the same time. Abby handed Keeley a bouquet of yellow flowers and Will had a six pack of Red Bull. Apparently they both knew their audiences as Keeley made a happy fuss over the blooms and Jamie immediately cracked open one of the Red Bulls.

The young people had no hesitation in chatting in front of him, comparing weekends and meals and matches. Jamie's food was delivered to plates and it was not only edible, but startlingly good. Will stayed fairly quiet, but eventually Keeley drew him out too. As if by prior agreement, they let Trent join as he wanted, but otherwise left him to observe if he liked.

"All right, you lot," Jamie said when plates had been cleared. Most of the hummus was gone which Trent was unreasonably pleased about. "I'm calling this meeting to order or whatever. We're not fucking barking though"

"Why the fuck would we do that?" Abby asked.

"I don't know," Jamie rolled his eyes. "Ask Trent."

"If barking were to occur, I'm sure it was a tradition established before my time," Trent said. "I'm comfortable with no animal noises."

"Great," Colin said with some relief. "I'm shit at animal impressions."

"Do we have a a fucking agenda or something?" Abby asked.

"Absolutely not," Jamie said. "Maybe we'll get around to reading a book at some point, but this is mostly a feelings club, I told you."

"I wasn't sure how serious you were about that," she said archly. "Like group therapy?"

"More like a brainstorming thing," Colin said. "But about relationships and the world being annoying about us existing."

"I think we can call it being friends," Keeley said with false solemnity.

"Really?" Will asked.

They all tensed, waiting on Jamie for that one.

"Yeah," Jamie said warmly. "Got to trust each for it to work, right?"

Trent was a little concerned Will might cry, but he was a hardy lad, so he only nodded twice a little too quickly and took another biscuit from the tray Jamie had manifested. They were certainly homemade and Trent was definitely having one before he left.

"Trent," Keeley turned her attention on him, all wide eyes and sweetness. It was partially an act, but one Trent enjoyed very much. He liked sharks that wore pink, "you asked for this one. Do you want to start?"

"No, but I will," he said, and took off his glasses. "I seem to be stuck in a holding pattern. I had hoped I was too old to fancy someone that I don't have a chance with for any length of time, but here we are."

"You don't know that you don't have a chance," Colin reminded him.

"It's becoming increasingly unlikely," Trent muttered.

"You didn't even ask," Jamie shook his head.

"Ask what?" Abby leaned in.

"Trent has a thing for a guy that he thinks is straight and the rest of us are less convinced," Keeley filled in.

"Oh, got it," Abby nodded. "I fancied this girl, Elaine, for absolute ages in uni. Straight as an arrow. Broke my heart when she got engaged."

"It happens to the best of us," Keeley said with feeling.

"Does it ever," Colin shook his head. "Dunstan Hill. I still google him sometimes."

"I had it off with mine," Will said. "In a broom closet. And then he told me to forget he ever existed."

"Oof," Jamie said, and reached over to give Will a shoulder pat. "What an ass."

"Yeah," Will said, "it was a good ass. I think you should go for it, Trent. Sometimes, there's a good ass in it."

"I think I've reached the point in my life that a good ass is simply not enough," Trent said. "In any case, I could find one of those at a number of clubs if that's what I was after."

"Are you looking for love?" Abby asked.

"I wasn't looking," Trent sighed. "I didn't even want to like him and now I think about him five times a day when I should be getting on with my life."

"Bit of a problem when you built your whole career around him though, isn't it?" Jamie asked unblinking.

Trent scrubbed at his eyes. "The thought had occurred."

"Wait," said Abby. Of course she had to be clever. You didn't become team captain of the first women's team in Richmond by being dull. "Lasso?"

"It surprised me too," Colin said. "I suppose he's got nice eyes."

"He's a a truly decent man with secret pathos and charming facial hair," Trent said dryly. "It's horrifying. I have the same taste I had when I was seventeen. I was supposed to grow out of all this."

"Don't do that," Keeley said. "Who would ever want to grow out of falling in love? Even when it's horrible, it's fucking great."

Easy for her to say.

"Lasso," Abby repeated then tilted her head to the side. "This is who we're worried is straight?"

"Did you ever meet him?" Trent asked.

"Yes. Once," she hesitated. "Anything I say next is going to sound like stereotyping. I'm sure there's a lot of straight guys like him out in the world."

"There's not a lot of men like him around in general," Trent said, heard himself and then scrubbed at his eyes again. "This is intolerable."

"Then for fuck's sake, Crimm, what do you lose by telling him?" Jamie asked.

"His friendship?"

"You're talking about Ted, right?" Colin elbowed him with less gentleness than Trent would've liked. "Big Forgive Ted?"

"Fucking goldfish about it if you let him," Jamie nodded. "You could probably shoot him in the foot and he'd ask if you were okay and did you need a hug about it."

"He did lose his shit with you, babes," Keeley reminded him.

"That's different, I was being a gold medal winning prick and he didn't know me yet. He likes Trent."

Ted did like Trent. That was part of the problem. If Ted hadn't let Trent hole up in his life and take stock of it, then none of this would be happening.

Without Ted, he wouldn't be eating lunch with an interesting, talented group of young people that Ted had delicately coaxed along in his own way, some from an accidental distance and some from very close up and intentional.  Jamie Tartt, former gold medal prick, had fed Trent lunch because he was sad and rounded up the troops to help him. That was Ted's influence.

Fuck Trent's entire life, his own intervention about Ted was Ted's own doing.

Trent picked up a biscuit and bit into it. He chewed. "These are excellent."

"Thanks," Jamie said, suddenly looking anywhere, but Trent. "My stepdad is a good baker."

Trent's father often told him that sticking his nose into place was going to get it broken off one of these days. He'd never told his father that it had gotten his nose broken twice already and that hadn't stopped him.

"Did he give you the recipe?" Trent asked lightly.

"It's a work in progress, isn't it?" Jamie shrugged. "You know, I took the base and did this and that with it."

"And you go the base from…"

"Internet?" Jamie offered weakly.

"Keeley," Trent said with a sigh, "I know I shouldn't be offering you professional advice at this moment, but as his publicist, you must teach this man to lie."

"He used to be quite good at it," Keeley said cheerfully. "I like him better this way."

"Authentic is better than boring," Jamie muttered and she beamed at him.

Abby reached out, took a biscuit and nibbled on it. "Damn. Okay, Trent. I'm getting more of a picture here."

"It's not the baking," Trent said, though he was absolutely going to eat two more of those if he could beat out Will's fast hungry hands. "It's- you don't want to hear this."

Five pairs of eyes were immediately glued to him.

"This is the best stuff," Abby said. "Are you kidding?"

"What she said," Colin nudged him. "Three years you've had a candle lit. What for? Nice eyes and a sad story? I doubt it."

They waited. Expectant. Trent traced the edge of the biscuit in his hand.

"I love the cadence of his voice," Trent said. "I love the way his first thought is how to help. His mind…he's very very clever. I could listen to him for hours and miss things that I realize later. Sometimes days later. There's a genius in most of the things he does, some he sees and some he doesn't. There's no arrogance to him, no competitive spirit. He wants the truth in people and that's all I've ever wanted, but our reasons are so different. I only wanted to shine a light on it for my own glory and he wanted to uplift it for others. He reminded me that it's never too late to make the wiser, kinder choice. I suppose I had to love that. I don't know that I ever had a fighting chance not to."

"Oh shit," Jamie said into the ensuing hush.

Colin put an arm around Trent's shoulders. "That's a lot, mate. Very…poetic?"

"It's all very spiritual, intellectual etc etc," Trent said. "He's also got an amazing body and I would do a number of incredibly filthy and explicit things to it  that none of you want to hear about."

"Not because of you," Will said very quickly. "Just…it's Ted."

Jamie was staring into space and Keeley gave him a little shake. "Bad or good?"

"I have no idea," Jamie admitted. "Goes in the box. Fuck, Crimm, you should say that to him. Not sure many blokes could hear all that in your voice and still be straight at the end."

"Wouldn't that be nice if it were true." He took another miserable bite of his biscuit. It was still incredible.

"I think Jamie had the right questions. What do you lose if you tell him?" Keeley asked.

"My dignity."

"Overrated," Jamie said immediately. "Lost mine years ago, don't miss it."

"His friendship."

"Unlikely," said Colin. "as already stated."

"Other way around too," Will said, around a bit of biscuit. "Think about what you get if it works out."

It would be highly dramatic to drape himself over the table and sigh hardily, but Trent allowed himself to consider it for a moment anyway.

"Please someone else talk for a bit," Trent muttered.

"My main situationship keeps asking for tickets to matches," Will said.

"Your main one?" Abby asked.

"Yeah," said Will. "There's technically three, but the other two are a couple and very easy to work with. I only see them every other month."

Scrapping himself together, Trent gave Will his full attention after that. Warmed up, Abby told them about an issue at her daughter's nursery that had Trent handing over contact information for the one Bonnie had gone to. So he'd helped someone else at least a little today. As Colin talked about rearranging his home to make room for Michael with a soft awe, the front door opened and a few steps brought in a black-clad invader to their colorful circle.

"This is still happening?" Roy took them all in. Will looked gobsmacked, poor thing. "Thought you said 'done before three'."

"What time is it?" Jamie asked.

"If only you had a device in your hand at all fucking hours of the day to tell you."

"I was in the moment," Jamie rolled his eyes. "Don't worry you don't have to join in."

"You told me only Crimm got duel citizenship."

"Are you asking to join?" Trent butt in.

"No," Roy said. He did stop behind Jamie's chair though, dropping his hands to the top rung of it, just behind Jamie's back. Entirely without touching, it was immediately so intimate that Trent felt a little wrong about watching.

"Then don't be a stormcloud about it," Keeley tsked.

"I'm not," Roy said. "I'm standing here."

"You don't get Trent, by the way," Jamie said, tipping his head back to smile up at Roy. "A point to Colin."

"For what?" Colin demanded.

"Read a whole bunch of shit, decided pansexual made more sense to me than bisexual and this prick took it personally for some fucking reason," Roy explained. He made contact with 'this prick', his hand cupping Jamie's shoulder, his thumb clearly pressing into some tense muscle judging by the way Jamie's eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.

"We're supposed to be on the same team," Jamie said as if that was all very reasonable.

"I'm pan," Will offered.

"Fucking hell, William," Jamie groused.

Roy gave Will a nod, "Good man."

"What were you saying about closet organization, Colin?" Keeley asked with her Cheshire smile.

"I'm worried about drawer space is all. I have a lot of socks and he has a lot of pants for some reason."

Roy might not have wanted to join, but he also very much did not leave. As the conversation wandered and Abby told the charming story about meeting her wife, Roy wound up in Keeley's chair with Keeley perched on his lap and his arm around the back of Jamie's chair, still idly rubbing his shoulder.

It was incredibly sweet and loving and Trent only wanted to murder them a very small amount.

Things broke up as Colin's phone buzzed, reminding him of a dinner with Ash. Will ran off first though, his little Vespa carrying him away to who knew what? Adventures, apparently. Abby slid off next and when Colin stood up, Trent did too.

"Crimm," Roy said.

"Kent?" Trent said as he retrieved his platter.

"When Harry Met Sally."

"A seminal film."

"Give it a re-watch," Roy advised.

"Any particular reason why?"

Jamie, who had been melting by degrees throughout the last fifteen minutes, likely because Roy's hand had migrated to his neck, said, "Good night, Trent. Great having you. Go away now."

"Good night. Thank you for hosting," Trent said because his mother had attempted to jam manners into him.

Outside, he shrugged into his jacket. Colin had his phone out, his ridiculous car nowhere in sight.

"Don't bother," Trent said. "I can drive you home."

"Are you sure? That'd be good. Michael dropped me off on his way to the shops."

It was only once they were in the safety of the car that Colin groaned, "I knew they were all together, but uh…"

"Yes, that's quite something," Trent said.

"Nothing was happening, so why do I feel like I was watching porn?"

"It was very intimate, wasn't it? Unexpected as well. Like watching a lion shimmy into lingerie," Trent agreed. "What did you think of Abby?"

"I like her. She brings a good energy, yeah?"

"I think so to. I would love to get her on record. The women's team is fascinating."

"Before you interrogate her, could we do something with her and her wife? Triple date?" Colin suggested. "Jiya would like them, I bet."

"I'd like that. She's busier than me these days, but I'm sure we can secure an evening with a sitter eventually."

"Do you mind if we do Ola's again? I know it's a lot, but it's really the only way not to get pap'd if I do something totally mad like kiss my boyfriend on the cheek."

"Scandalous," Trent said. "That's fine."

"Not as scandalous as those three," Colin shook his head. "I've been to foam parties less graphic than that."

When Trent reached Colin's home, he pulled in behind Colin's gorgeous car which Colin stared at with the usual mix of love and loathing. Generally, Trent didn't give advice to Colin. Mostly he listened and told his own stories in return. That's what Trent would have wanted when he was twenty-five and trying to get his head screwed on straight. But the car was worrying. The car might get him killed.

Trent also entirely understood what a symbol it was, this beautiful luxury machine that meant Colin had done it. He'd made it. He was someone, worthy of something slick and powerful.

"You know," Trent said, "you have enough money to own two cars."

"Hm?" Colin unbuckled his seatbelt.

"It's even expected, I'd argue. And considering Jamie's new environmental trend, if you were to get one of those high end electric ones to go around town in, I bet the PR alone would be worth it."

"Two cars," Colin repeated. His eyes widened a little. "I could just have two cars. How did I not think of that?"

"The most obvious solutions are sometimes a little too close to be seen with our own eyes."

"Brilliant!" Colin laughed. "You're brilliant."

He leaned over and gave Trent a kiss on the cheek. It was sweet and exactly the benediction Trent had needed today.

"Go on then," Trent laughed. "Go kiss a man your own age."

"Aw, I will, thanks," Colin laughed with him. "Good night, Trent."

"Good night, Colin."

On the way home, Trent put on Disintegration because sometimes, he needed a cure and couldn't get one, but The Cure was always there for him.

"Daddy!" Bonnie called as soon as he walked in the door. "Can we have breakfast for dinner?"

"What does Mummy want?" He asked, accepting the hug that crashed into his legs gratefully.

"Mummy wants a quiet hour to herself!" Jiya called from upstairs.

"Done and done!" Trent called back to her. "How about we go out then? Get ourselves some treats and bring Mummy back something?"

"Yes!" Bonnie said and raced around in a few circles before locating her shoes.

Walking back full-stomached and dozy with it, Trent wound up scooping Bonnie up and carried her the last bit home. Bonnie snuggled in against him, humming some made up song to herself and Trent thought, not for the first time, How could Ted ever have left this behind? There was no power on Earth that would compel Trent to leave the country right now. He didn't even want to leave his unorthodox marital bed.

Under the guise of giving Jiya more time, Trent took over bedtime as well, supervising tooth brushing, laying out pajamas, filling a water glass and most importantly, reading. They were working their way slowly through the Ramona books, Beverley Cleary's insights into young minds still as fresh and sharp as when Trent had read them himself as a boy.

A tuck in of blankets, a kiss on the forehead, music softly playing and Trent departed from sweetness of childhood. In the hall, he lingered, listening to Vivaldi lull Bonnie to sleep. Steps away, Jiya was sitting up in bed, pen in her mouth as she destroyed a manuscript. For the last five years, she'd taken up a side gig of editing self-published books that would've driven Trent to drink. She seemed to take profound satisfaction in it, so he left her to it.

Not ready to leave the halo of their presence, Trent didn't go down into the dark and sit on the sofa or brood in the kitchen. Instead, he sat on the top of their steep stairs and texted.

did you get the book?

He assumed Ted was busy. It was mid-afternoon across the world, on a game day. But the reply came back almost immediately.

I did! Postman Carl left it on my doorstep yesterday morning. Haven't cracked it open yet. How are you?

I had an interesting day. Do you remember meeting Abby Monroe?

I told her she was better at football than Marilyn! I don't think that impressed her much which is fair. What'd you think of her?

I've seen her play and she's brilliant. In fact, she reminded me of a player I watched quite closely for a long time. When I sat down her today, I found the resemblance to continue to her personality though she is a good deal further along in her personal journey at the same age.

If you mean she's exactly like Roy, I'm a 100% with you. I think that's a great thing. The world could use more Kent energy.

Had anyone ever thought that was what the world needed more of? And been right. Ted usually was about people.

He's excelling as a manager. On and off the pitch. You should see the locker room these days. You'd be very proud.

Always am. How are Holt and Goldberg settling in?

Trent knew that Ted talked Roy on occasion and Beard likely every day in some form. What meaningful information could Trent give him that they didn't?

Or was it a question to keep a conversation going?

Did Ted miss speaking to him as much as Trent missed talking to Ted?

Very well. Holt had some confidence issues earlier in the season, but the time he got on the pitch for the Crystal Palace match did a great deal for him. It seems Jamie has taken him under his wing as well. Goldberg is a little more self-sufficient and likely to move teams at the end of the season.

Why? Everything all right there?

Trent touched the keys and gave in.

Easier to explain over the phone. Time for a call?

The phone buzzed in his hands and Trent got up. He walked down into the dark to perch on his couch.

"Hello, Ted," he said softly.

"Heya, Trent," Ted said. "What's the word, mockingbird?"

"I heard about Hugo and Kim. They really got pinned. It'll make an excellent page six story," Trent supplied and Ted's laugh, generous and warm turned the dark living room into a shared space across the sea. "Though Keeley, Roy and Jamie would be more accurate. Less of a musical cadence though."

"Isn't that always the way? Have to sacrifice the rhyme to get to the truth," Ted said warmly. "Good for them. Seems awfully complicated though. All that scheduling, don't you think?"

Since he was younger than Bonnie, Trent had been told how smart he was. By his father ("You have enough brains to make better decisions" Wrong, Dad.), by his mother ("My love, don't you think you should play with the other children? Books are all well and good, but they can't keep you company." Wrong, Mum, sorry.), by his teachers ("You have a lot of potential, if you would apply yourself" Fuck off, honestly.), by his professors ("You'd make an excellent teacher yourself" Absolutely not, there's a world out there to ferret out) and his bosses ("You're too clever to spend your days on a pitch" There's no where else in the world worth being, thanks very much).

Trent was smart. He knew that. He might even be a bit of a genius on his best days.

He was also an absolutely useless idiot. Why had he assumed Ted knew? Just because the man could be unusually perceptible didn't mean he noticed glaringly obvious things either.

"Ted," Trent said gently, "I'm polyamorous."

"Oh," Ted said. "But your wife…"

"If my marriage was any more open an MP would've tried to show up at the ribbon cutting with scissors," Trent supplied. "Mostly because I am very very gay."

Silence. Then, "You know, I thought Snoopy was an odd choice for you."

"Snoopy is an ally," Trent said with more conviction than the thought deserved.

"No, no, you're right. He'd be throwing rocks at Stonewall if had thumbs," Ted said quickly. His nervous patter had kicked in. Trent liked his nervous patter.

Trent was so fucking fucked it was unbelievable.

"I thought you knew," Trent said softly. "I wasn't trying to hide."

"Yeah, yep, I get it. Not really my business anyway, is it?"

It could be yours, Trent kept to himself, you could own the whole place and rent it out to punters and I'd let you.

"If Colin can kiss his boyfriend on the pitch, I think I should be able to tell one of my dearest friends what my life actually looks like," Trent said instead.

"Oh, yeah," Ted cleared his throat. "I haven't exactly been holding up my end of that friendship either, have it?"

"You were changing your life entirely. That takes a lot of energy and focus. I remember how hard it was and I didn't even leave my house, let alone the country."

"It shouldn't be hard," Ted said, without whining because Ted didn't whine. There was only a gentle confusion as if reality refusing to conform to his generous expectations was too bizarre to compute. "It should be sliding on an old pair of shoes."

"Have you ever put shoes in a closet for a few years and then tried to wear them?" Trent asked.

"Sure, everyone has that pair of dress shoes that only comes out for weddings and funerals, don't they?"

"Think of how stiff they are," Trent said. "As if they've unlearned your feet."

"It's a little like that. And a little like my feet have changed shape, if that's not stretching the metaphor too far."

"Not at all," Trent sighed. "I understand entirely."

"You were going to tell me about Holt and Goldberg," Ted said, forced return of cheer. "Don't hold out on me. Why do you think Goldberg is going to go?"

Ted couldn't have met Goldberg before he left. Trent didn't disbelieve for a second that he was still genuinely interested in his fate. So Trent told him, gave him observations and bits of conversation he'd had. It opened the door to Ted talking about some of his current players. Trent's grasp on American football lacked the depth of his knowledge of the sports he had professionally covered (football, rugby, cricket and,for a painful two years, tennis), but he was familiar enough to only need a few points of clarification.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about anger lately," Ted said.

It was getting late, the shadows going murky as more lights outside turned off for the night. Trent had taken off his glasses a half hour ago. There was nothing down here to focus on, but Ted's voice.

"Because of Tony the Tiger?" Trent hoped the boy appreciated the nickname as it certainly seemed to have stuck.

"A little," Ted said. "Or…no. Not really, honestly. I've been thinking about why we have it. What it does for us. I used to think it was pure poison."

"It certainly can be. It's poisoned me more than once."

"Me too. I don't think of you as an angry person. What are you like when you're mad?"

"Vicious," Trent tipped his head back on the couch that had seen many bitter fights in the worst days of his marriage. "Bitter. I was an angry young man as it happens."

"I wasn't," Ted said. "Or maybe I was, deep down. It rots you, doesn't it?"

"It almost ruined me. I certainly hurt people."

The greatest hits played out behind Trent's eyelids: Roy with a scrap of paper he'd used to cut himself up with in his wallet for years came to mind, Jiya sobbing into her knees, and his father, giving back as good as he got.

"I think it almost ruined me too. I know I hurt people."

"Life," Trent announced to the uncaring dark and a caring heart, "is a bitch, Ted and sometimes, we're bitches about it. Not ideal, but an understandable reaction, I think."

Ted's laugh was tired this time. Tired and it could only be midafternoon for him.

"Not my favorite word, but I can second the sentiment," Ted said. "Shoot, I have to go get Henry. Must be late over there. Trent Crimm, you are up past your bedtime."

"You don't know my bedtime," Trent said and if there was a bit of flirtation in it, he was only human. "I could stay up to all hours."

"You have a six year old. I'd say you're usually out before the news is on," Ted said, amused.

"Nearly seven. As she informs me daily," Trent sighed. "And you're right. It's getting late."

"I'll say good afternoon and good night then to cover both of us."

"Ted?"

"Yes?"

Trent pressed his fingers to both sides of his nose, and dove. "You can call me. Whenever you like. If you…I don't know. I miss this."

"Thanks," Ted said, the word not quite coming out right. "It's been real, Ally McBeal."

"Good afternoon and good night," Trent said and the line went dead. "Ally McBeal? Really?"

When he got into bed, Jiya gave him a speculative look.

"Do I want to know?"

"You can know or you can sleep tonight," he told her. "I know what I'd recommend."

She leaned over and kissed him. He cupped her cheek. Made a considering questioning noise that she answered by sliding a leg over his.

There was no part of him that looked at a woman and wanted them. Trent was gay from skin to bone though it had taken him a long time to reckon with it. But Jiya wasn't just some woman. She was his life's companion, his dear heart and his best friend. The first time they had slept together, Trent thought she was his salvation. His body had responded to her, had loved her body without hesitation. She could rescue him from the choppy waters of being what he knew himself to be.

Painful years had taught him that she wasn't his salvation. No other person could be. But she was his home. His body could still love hers, even without the early twenties hormonal swamp that had carried him accidentally through their first unions.

He was a gay man that loved his wife and found all the ways he could to tell her that. Some of them roved beyond words and if anyone took issue with it, they could, quite frankly, go fuck themselves.

After they had satisfied themselves, she rested her head on his chest, hand loose and protective over his stomach.

"Were you talking to Ted?"

"Yes," he played his fingers over the cashmere skin of her shoulder and arm. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"It didn't really. I wasn't very tired," she said. "Anything interesting?"

"We talked shop mostly. Towards the end, it went a little deeper. I told him I missed talking to him. To call me."

"Well that's something."

"Maybe he'll read the book I sent him."

"Maybe you shouldn't depend on cryptic messages in writing so much."

"Maybe," he huffed. "I love you."

"Yes, fine. I'll stop," she huffed. "I love you too."

As the holidays closed in, the usual seasonal melancholy fell over the team. Dinner with the Higgins family, club nights, and group outings were all well and good, but they were still young men far from home. Trent's name had been added to the Secret Snowflake ("Secret Santa isn't very fucking inclusive is it? What the fuck do Goldberg and Bhargava want with fucking Santa?" Roy had said and then put Nate in charge of renaming it), without his consent. He drew Sam and indulged himself by buying the poor man quite the stack of books. Sam, too straight for the new book club, still should be treated to quality literature. If he was disappointed, Sam was too polite a person to show it.

In return, Trent got a bottle of very good gin from Jan Maas. He didn't have to fake his interest in that.

"It's meant to be drank straight. Do not put it in a cocktail," Jan Maas instructed.

"I won't," Trent lied.

The traditional gifting of bottles went around the room (except from Jamie, who gave Nate a whack of novelty music note-themed socks for his own inscrutable Jamie reasons). For the duration of the afternoon and the evening match, spirits were temporarily high again.

"When did my emotional state become dependent on a dozen moody twenty-somethings?" Trent asked as he and the coaches got steadily more smashed on the worst of the offerings (Holt's two bottles of Goldschlager that somehow got 'left behind' by Ash).

"I ask myself that every fucking day," Roy said.

"And yet," Beard raised his glass (metaphorically, they were actually all drinking out of their tea and coffee mugs for lack of other dishware), "we love it."

"Is it because of irreparable damage of our childhoods?" Nate asked from the floor, mug lifted.

"Fucking probably," Roy said with a head nod that went on a hair too long. "Got to be better than drugs though."

"Debatable," Beard said, smacked his mug into Trent's. "To being marginally better than drugs."

They all took a shot and Trent coughed. "This tastes like expensive regrets."

"It's for asshole kids," Roy said. "I used to drink it by the liter."

"Why?" Nate asked, horrified.

"Had gold in it and I was a dipshit with cash for the first time. Why, what were you drinking at seventeen?"

"Lemonade," Nate said. "I wasn't allowed booze in the house."

"Don't look at me," Beard said, pouring more gold-tainted schnapps into his cup. "I was already on the hard stuff."

"Crimm?" Roy asked.

"I nicked rum a lot," Trent admitted. "Seventeen was my thieving year. Eighteen too. Some of nineteen. Arguably most of twenty."

"Why'd you stop at twenty?" Nate asked, wide-eyed. Adorable.

"I got hired to write about local sports for a tiny paper that no longer exists."

"So you made enough money to buy liquor?" Nate guessed.

"No. I made two quid an article if I was lucky, but it did give me something I liked better than getting drunk with my friends on Wednesday afternoon," Trent said and took another ill-considered swig from his mug. "I got to choose what I turned in, so I spent a lot of time watching bad football and worse rugby."

"Rugby," Roy said like it was a foul disease.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged by gays of fine taste that a rugby player is fitter than a football player," Trent said because alcohol had always made him worse on a fundamental level.

It was worth the risk to watch Roy's face journey from offense to consideration to discovery to offense again. Nate made a kicked sound that could've been a suppressed laugh and Beard hid a smile behind his mug. Trent was saved from whatever foul curse Roy was going to manage to put his hands on when Leslie showed up, Rebecca right behind him.

"Gentlemen," she said with amusement oozing from her. "I was going to offer to take you all out for a drink, but I see you've beaten me to the punch."

"We're having a very exclusive party," Trent told her. "Would you care for some of the worst liquor in the world drunk from tea-stained ceramic?"

She regarded them all from her lofty height, and said with a slight smile. "Leslie? Join us?"

"I'll go get china," Leslie said. Good man.

They wheeled in Trent and Nate's chairs for them.

"You don't want to sit?" Leslie checked with Trent.

"I am holding up this wall," Trent told him. "Very important job. Can't slack."

"How much of this have you had?" Rebecca asked, holding up the bottle. Gold flecks danced inside.

"More than any man in his forties should."

There were worse ways to spend 22 December than pleasantly inebriated among friends, all of whom had a few gray hairs to their name. It meant that they were all responsible enough to have arranged rides and no one passed out or threw up. There were even canapes when Rebecca decided they needed something to soak up the booze and put in an emergency appetizer order which Trent hadn't known was a thing you could do.

Eventually, they staggered out into the carpark where Keeley was perched on top of her car, laughing with delight at all of them.

"I've got a ride for Kent?" she called out. "Looking for Mr. Kent? I'll take Rebecca instead though. She's a nicer drunk."

"I'm fucking marvelous," Roy told her, blinking a lot. "Shit. I shouldn't go home."

"You should not," Keeley nodded. "Which is why you're coming home with me. Took care of it already. Get in. Rebecca, you want a ride?"

"I ordered a car, thank you," Rebecca smiled at her. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, can't do the pre-Christmas do without you!"

Higgins and Rebecca fell into a town car. Trent watched a slight comedy of errors where Leslie momentarily sat in Rebecca's lap and hid a giggle over it poorly. As they sorted themselves, Nate slid into a cab and disappeared down the street. Beard slunk away into the shadows, walking towards home. Trent briefly considered making sure he got there, but he wasn't entirely sure his legs were up to the job.

"Oi, Crimm!" Roy was still standing next to Keeley, the two of them having devolved into some playful shoving contest that Trent had been ignoring. "Do you have a way home or what?"

"I do," he said.

"Right," Roy wavered, then groaned and started unzipping his coat. "Fuck, I almost forgot."

Trent had a hysterical moment to wonder if Roy was still the kind of person that got naked when he was drunk. Trent hadn't covered the more social aspects of players lives for the most part, but it had been hard to ignore the early days of Roy's wilder behavior. 

Instead of stripping, Roy pulled out a red envelope and shoved it at Trent.

"What's this?"

"Fuck if I know," Roy said. "I'm just the messenger." 

Trent's Uber arrived and he held onto the envelope, watching as Roy finally got into the car. Keeley reached over and tenderly re-settled his jacket, the two of them already blocking out the rest of the world.

"Trent Crimm?" The driver called.

"Independent," Trent muttered to himself and got in.

The envelope was left on top of the Christmas cards piling up on the counter. Trent curled up on the couch in his clothes so he didn't wake up Jiya. Poe discovered him in the wee hours and sat on his chest, so at least he wasn't entirely alone. He also couldn't entirely breathe.

The next day was a hungover blitz through school duties. Jiya had to work, so Trent went and volunteered to assist with all the usual glitter and pomp nonsense that Bonnie still appreciated with her full heart. They made dinner together, Bonnie's help mostly consisting of talking Trent's ear off about her plans for her many days at home and keeping Poe from jumping on the counter. The truly important jobs.

"Oh, you made I-Have-Regrets ratatouille!" Jiya said, delighted when she got home. "How much did you drink?"

"Far, far too much," he admitted. "But my headache is your gain."

"As always," she laughed and tucked in.

They all went out the next day, despite everything being swamped with people. There was somehow always something forgotten, last minute additions to buy. Mostly though, Trent and Jiya had always shared a love of being out in the world and the busyness was somewhat the point.

Between one thing or another, the envelope went unopened another night. On Sunday, Jiya took Bonnie and Allison on an outing. It gave Trent time to wrap gifts, including the bracelet he'd found for Jiya when he was at an away game. She loved glass beadwork and this was a beauty. He suspected she'd gotten him a particularly good t-shirt this year, her finds always among his favorites. It wasn't a creative stretch or expensive, but it was a show of time and effort that he appreciated.

Trent paused halfway through his wrapping and had to sit down.

He hadn't gotten Ted anything. Why would he?

And yet…

And yet.

As if the very thought summoned Jamie like the newly awakened emotional bloodhound he was, a text popped up on Trent's phone.

call him pls not about feelings or whatever just got off the phone with him early cause I have a thing to go to but I think he needs the company

Trent stared at the message. He gritted his teeth and considered his options. Before he could respond, Jamie texted again.

if you're pissed about the envelope sorry unless roy forgot to give it to you he said he did tho

I haven't opened it yet. That was easy enough.

did you watch the movie?

No.

you text like roy is this an old ppl thing? its scary anyway watch the movie than the envelope, but first call ted pls

I hope one day when you are forty-four, you get all of this back at you threefold.

see I have a plan which is when I'm forty-four, I'll still be younger than all of you foolproof

How have you survived Roy's wrath this long?

he says Stockholm Syndrome but apparently they think thats bullshit now so he needs to come up with a new one I sent him the article and everything i gotta run pls call ted?

Fine.

As if Trent was doing him a favor. He should text first, most likely, but he's too riled up and needled now. He hit Ted's contact and got back to wrapping as it rang.

"Heya, Trent. Everything okay?" Ted sounded fine.

"I'm sorry to call without forewarning, but I was given marching orders from an overgrown toddler with a natural exuberance that is frankly appalling."

"Elmo called you?" Ted asked. "Trent, I didn't know you were that famous. What's he like over the phone?"

"Ted."

"All right, Jamie is a little exuberant. Why'd he tell you to call me? Got any good sports dirt to shovel?"

"You don't want dirt," Trent said, taping down a flap carefully. "He seemed to have some guilt about hanging up on you early."

"Aw, that's all right," Ted said. "It does feel a little off kilter to finish off the Christmas cookies on my own now, but it's hardly an emergency worth dropping into your day."

"I'm only wrapping gifts," Trent said. "In fact, I'm going to put you on speaker and prop you up against the rose pot."

"Rose pot?"

"It's our version of a holiday tradition," Trent hesitated. "Would you like to see?"

"Sure! Switch to video?"

Trent didn't think twice. He hadn't seen Ted's face outside of photographs in months. Not much had changed. His eyes were still soft and warm, his face open and his mustache impeccably groomed. Even in his kitchen, he had a sweater on over a shirt, obscuring his body and leaving too much to Trent's rabid imagination. Rather than staring hungrily at him, Trent turned the phone around so Ted could see the small rose plant in it's big pot that Jiya had so carefully painted years ago.

"You have all your presents tucked around it," Ted observed. "It's nice. Really pretty. No tree?"

Trent set the phone against the pot, on top of a few boxes for height.

"Jiya was raised Hindu," Trent explained, keeping his eyes mostly on his task. "She's not religious anymore, but she certainly doesn't want to fuss with a Christmas tree. My father was vehemently anti-religion of any kind and my mother went to temple twice a year to remind herself why she didn't go the rest of the time. We lit a menorah once or twice and got our presents then."

"Right, so you all are not going to have a tree. Getting the picture," Ted said. "What culture is the rose bush from?"

"Ours," Trent said, tucking and turning the package in his hands. "When we had Bonnie, we wanted her to have something around the holidays. We were also trying to pretend we'd have a decent garden, so Jiya decided we could get a rose bush every year and plant it in the spring."

"I like that," Ted said. "I like that a lot. Bonnie must love it."

"She gets gifts on the same day as everyone else, she likes that part," Trent said with a half-smile. "When it all catches up to her, I'm sure we'll have a lot of interesting difficult discussions about why we just can't be normal."

"You can tell her normal is only statistics and people aren't numbers."

"Would that have worked on you when you were a teenager?" Trent asked wryly.

"I'd like to say yes," Ted said and now he did sound a little off. Trent glanced at the screen. Ted, previously in motion, had gone still. "But I suppose I was already statistically anomalous by then."

"You and me both," Trent said and moved on to the last package.

"Outliers are the best liers," Ted said, paused and then sighed. "Well that one came out a little too fast. Doesn't even mean anything."

"I don't know, I can be quite a good liar given the chance," Trent said. "And I know for a fact you've had your moments too."

"That was different. Had to make sure it wasn't too easy for you to get a scoop. What kind of friend would I be if I made your job less fun?"

Trent shook his head, "Were we friends then?"

"Of course we were. You were doing your thing and I was doing mine. I got that," Ted said. "It didn't make us enemies. I like this better though."

"So do I," Trent cast about for anything to say that wasn't going to take them into deeper water when Ted was apparently not as all right as he seemed initially. "Did you finish all your shopping yet?"

"I like to get it done early. Michelle got me in the habit. Buy what you need in July except for the kids because they change their minds too many times. Henry was easier this year. He wanted a Polaroid camera. Told me 'retro tech' is what everyone wants."

"I got a Polaroid camera for my tenth birthday," Trent grimaced. "Everyone is calling me old today."

"I'm right there with you," Ted reminded him as if Trent could forget that some of Ted's appeal was how he wore his age so lightly. "I just don't have the silver locks yet."

"I've been going gray since I was twenty-one."

"Really? I knew a guy that was all white by thirty, but I think he saw something spooky. Did you get startled by an undead editor or something?"

"I think I got startled by a genetic propensity, but I like your version better," Trent said. "At least it would be a good story."

"I do love a tall tale. I suppose those are lie adjacent. The good kind of lie. Like Santa."

"You mean he isn't real?" Trent asked dryly and finally finished off his wrapping. "Ted. My childlike wonder."

The sound Ted made was good, a choked on laugh. "My bad, Cindy Lou Who, didn't see you there."

"Would Roy be the Grinch? It feels right personality-wise, but I think symbolically it's likely Nate."

"Ooh tough question. I'm gonna give it a hard pass, thanks. We always watch the original cartoon on Christmas. Love that one."

"What's your Christmas look like then this year?" Trent asked, setting down the last of the gifts. The red envelope pulsed at him from the top of the pile.

"Oh, you know. I'll head over to my- to Michelle's house in the morning. I'll bring some cinnamon rolls and we'll eat those then do presents. Watch a few movies. Same as it ever was."

Except that Ted would go home alone after. Leaving the home that wasn't his home. Trent met his eyes and Ted smiled in that way that stopped at his lips. Had it ever fooled Trent? Maybe for a bit, in the beginning.

"What about New Year's?" Trent forged on, trying to bail them out. "Big party plans?"

"Nah, I'll spend the afternoon having a few beers with some college friends, but I don't like to stay out late anymore on New Year's Eve. Too many people who are little too happy on the road. I'll probably fall asleep before the ball drops anyway."

"You too?" Trent asked wryly. "Last year, Bonnie asked if she could stay up until midnight and we agreed. We thought she wouldn't make it."

"She woke you up to ring it in?"

"Exactly. Then she was a mess all the next day at my in laws house where you least need it. Unfortunately, it's a tradition now and we're stuck with it."

"Do you know hard it is to find a Terry's chocolate orange in Kansas?" Ted shook his head. "I hoisted myself on my own petard. Had to pay double for it at one of those world market places."

"Remind me next year and I'll ship one too you," Trent promised. "Provided it can survive a shipping. Is it warm there?"

"Nah, we got snow this week. Not a lot, already slush. It's a little…" Ted trailed off then shook his head. "Those photos behind you?"

"Yes. A handful," Trent said. Well. The man deserved a laugh. "I will show you a teenage photo of me if and only if, you respond in kind."

"Oh, steep ask. I have one around, I think."

"I will accept it at a later date, you don't have to go digging right now," Trent reached behind him and plucked up the picture Jiya insisted in keeping. "Please remember that I was sixteen and it was the unholy year of 1998."

"I remember it well," Ted said. "I think I was living in baggy jeans and- oh."

Trent sighed. "I know."

He had been even smaller as a teenager, not yet grown into his nose and trying desperately to put on weight without much success. The glasses his parents procured for him were enormous on his lean face, like a parody of a nerdy kid from a movie. He wore slashed up black jeans with dozens of buckles hanging off them, a David Bowie shirt that was torn at the neck, and enormous black cardigan that swamped him and a black studded choker. His hair, still midnight black then, was far shorter and over gelled to keep it from fluffing around him like a dandelion. He was frowning deeply and holding a very thick book. The overall effect was unflattering at best.

"Look at you," Ted said and it was so profoundly fond that Trent wanted to murder him. Why couldn't he laugh like most people would? "You already had a point of view."

"I was a dork of the highest order who might as well have been wearing a 'bully me' sign on my back," Trent contended.

"Outliers," Ted shook his head, "I bet you were the most interesting kid in your grade. I would've talked to you just to see what you were reading."

"I know you would've," Trent admitted. "I think that's why I showed you. I don't know what it was now. I was having a very strong year with pretentious tomes. I was trying to get through Infinite Jest around then"

"Did you make it?"

"Not even close, but I thought it made me look very clever toting it around." He set it back on the mantle between Jiya at her sister's wedding, and Bonnie at four in a snowflake costume for her first drama club production. "That's all I wanted to be at sixteen."

"I wanted to be strong," Ted said, not even a hint of a smile to him now, brow furrowed. 

"And look at us now," Trent turned back to him and without letting himself edit, he said, "I wish I'd gotten you something. For the holidays. I didn't think of it and now I…yes. I should have."

"I didn't get you anything either," Ted said. "Well, you showed me that picture and I'll show you mine. History can be a present. A gift of time."

"I like that," Trent decided.

"Yeah, you know what? Me too." A hint of recovery, the brow clearing at least. 

Emboldened, Trent asked, "Feelings on When Harry Met Sally?"

"Perfect film," Ted said immediately. "Except that I do think men and women can be friends without falling in love. But the rest of it? Ideal. Would watch any time, anywhere. What brought it to mind?"

"A friend recommended a re-watch. It seems seasonally appropriate."

"It does? Maybe I'll revisit it too. Something to do anyway."

A timer on Ted's end went off and he put down the phone to take his baking out of the oven. The kitchen in the slice Trent could make out was pleasant. White. Sterile. 

Where did Ted live if not in his house? In his head? On the field? In the locker room?

"You should have one of these," Ted said, picking the phone back up to show a tray of deep brown biscuits. "Dark chocolate and peanut butter chips."

"I don't think I've had a peanut butter chip."

"Well, now I know what I'm getting you next year," Ted said. "This is usually where Jamie and I part ways if you want permission to go."

"Why would I want that?" Trent breathed out the question, barely daring to put the weight of audible volume behind that.

Ted stared at Trent through the camera and Trent refused to do him the courtesy of looking away. Courtesy was for people who preferred ease over answers.

"Because it's almost dinner time where you are?" Ted floated.

"Mm. I could take you into the kitchen. It's baked ziti tonight, I'll only be doing layers and sticking it in the oven anyway."

"I could get started on the next batch. I've got sugar cookie dough waiting."

"C'mon then," Trent plucked up his phone. "Favorite musical."

"Oooh asking the tough ones. That's gotta be a tie between Grease and Guys and Dolls. What about you?"

"Rent," Trent said. "It was practically obligatory. I don't think it holds up particularly well, but it resonated too hard for me at the time to dislodge now."

They talked in song snippets and references as Trent put together dinner. Ted showed him the tins he'd bought to distribute a staggering amount of baked goods to what seemed like everyone the man had ever met. At some point, the oven's heat must've gotten to him because Ted pulled off his sweater. The shirt underneath was rumpled and he pushed up his sleeves to get them out of the way.

The gel that held Ted's hair in place started to fail too, the dark sweep of hair falling over his brow, taking years off of him. Trent's fingers itched to push it back, to run his thumb over Ted's eyebrow. To cup his cheek. To…

With a repressed sigh, Trent put the ziti into the oven as Ted was pulling his baking sheet out.

"That's me done," Ted said. "Where are you at?"

"Forty minutes at least. Our oven is ancient," Trent said. "Maybe I should start the movie. Are you doing anything?"

"Standing. Breathing," Ted grinned. "Talking to my friend Trent Crimm. Nice guy, you should meet him."

"I am all too well-aquatinted. Would you like to watch the first part of the movie with me?"

"Aw, sure. I did that with Henry a bunch when I was over there."

It was a poor idea, but Trent wasn't sure he could watch it alone and it felt necessary now. The full weight of the Kent-Tartt double threat was upon him. Trent set himself up in the living room, legs tucked to the side as he settled his laptop down in front of him and his phone, charging now, beside it so he could see Ted. It was awkward, a little, but the movie started and it was far too charming to be bothered with the details.

If Trent had spent any time thinking about it (he had), he would've assumed that Ted would be a chatty film watcher. Which was ridiculous really because how would a man incorporate so many references if he wasn't paying attention to what he was watching? If anything, Ted was spellbound though he must've seen this before, perhaps several times.

They watched Harry and Sally become friends, lose touch, become friends again. The timer went off for the ziti, right as Jiya texted to say they were running late. Trent paused to cover the dish with tinfoil, and pour some nuts into a bowl to snack on. Ted had gotten popcorn and they had a small debate over movie snacks before restarting.

There was a touch and go moment when Harry said,

So I don't see where we can still date is any big incentive since the last thing you want to do is date your wife, who's suppose to love you, which is what I'm saying to you, that's when it occurs to me that may be... she doesn't. So I say to her, "Don't you love me anymore?" You know what she says?

"I don't know if I've ever loved you."

Ted's expression went dark, but before Trent could say a word, Ted shook his head.

"She did though. That's the worst part. Losing that and not knowing it was going."

"Yes," Trent said. 

They both let the movie play on. Harry and Sally were friends again.

Harry: You know the first time I met I really didn't like you that much.

Sally: I didn't like you.

The first time Trent had met Ted, he had made him a laughingstock. He had done it because he thought Ted had blundered thoughtlessly into something to shred what Trent loved to pieces. What was the statue of limitations on apologies? Had Trent made enough of them?

Harry and Sally stayed friends. They talked and they insulted each other and complimented each other, they made each other laugh until they were in tears.

"I forgot," Trent said. "How much there was to this. It's not just a fake orgasm and some nice lines."

"Rom coms," Ted said with reverence."There's always more to them than people remember. They leave people with a feeling more than a one liner."

"That's true."

At that moment I knew. I knew the way you know about a good melon.

"I met her at an awful party," Trent told Ted. He'd sunk down a little, chin in hand. "I wasn't invited to many in uni, so I went, but it was very much not my scene. The beer was free though, so I took two bottles and went to sit outside. It was warm for once. She got out of a friend's car, and I'd seen her before. She had this jacket, black corduroy that she'd sewn band patches on and they were all bands I loved too. I only meant to ask about the patches. I offered her one of the bottles so she'd stay and answer. We talked for six hours straight."

"I'd already taken my first coaching job. Community college thing, really local, but I had a real paycheck and all. I decided to buy myself some decent sneakers because my team was always heckling me about the ones I had. I couldn't decide and I'm sitting there looking at three pairs of nearly identical sneakers and the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen leaned over and said, 'You're a man who needs some color. Get the ones with the red.' and I did and then I got her number."

Marie: I.. I mean I really.. have.. you have to admire people who can be as... that articulate.

Jess: Nobody has ever quoted me back to me before

"I told her the first time when I proposed. I said it as clearly as I could. 'If you marry me, you're marrying a man who prefers men. I'll never be straight' and she said, 'But will you still be mine?'. And I told her the truth: Yes. Then I lied for fifteen years."

"I don't know what happened. Not really. I was still there, holding out my hands and she slipped away. I keep thinking today will be the day I see her and it won't hurt any more because time heals all wounds, right? But this one is taking it's sweet time about it."

Harry: Oh go ahead, it's not one of my favorites anyway. It's going to be OK, hmm? You're OK? OK.

(Harry kisses Sally.)

Harry: I'll make some tea.

Sally: Harry, Harry, could you just hold me a little longer?

"We got married on Tuesday afternoon, the two of us and some paperwork. Her parents were furious. They still haven't forgiven me. We didn't even have enough money to buy a cake, so we went home and baked made one together from an expired mix. Fed it to each other and it was awful, so we scattered the rest for the birds to eat."

"We did a huge church thing for Mom and her parents. I wore a tuxedo. She had a dress that looked like a cake. The whole time we were saying our vows, I thought 'this is it, this is when my life really starts', but now I think there's not just one day when you're life starts, is there? It happens over and over and over again."

I'd like to propose a toast to Harry and Sally. To Harry and Sally, if Marie or I had found either of them remotely attractive, we would not be here today.

"We didn't think it would happen. We barely touched each other by then. Jiya was thirty-seven. It seemed like a closed question. I was hired by The Independent and I started thinking that if I was ever going to leave, this would be the moment. Enough steady money to separate our finances. We were so angry with each other. And then…then she was pregnant and neither of us believe in miracles, but it certainly seemed like a strong statement."

"We talked about it for years. I wanted a big family. Four or five kids. The more the merrier. Let's Von Trapp things up! But it took awhile and then the pregnancy was so rough on her. Bedrest for the last few weeks. He was born early anyway and it was terrifying. How could I ask her to do it again? And Henry was so perfect. He was enough."

Harry: 'Cos I don't have a date, and if you don't have a date, we always said that if neither one of us had a date, we could be together for New Years. And we... could... you know.... why don't...

Sally: I can't do this anymore, I am not your consolation prize. Goodbye.

"Bonnie's second birthday. I saw every other birthday coming towards me like an endless train. Would I tell her when Bonnie was five? Ten? Eighteen? How much longer? I waited six more months. I told her and I had already brought things downstairs so I could sleep here if she let me stay in the house. She wouldn't let me leave the bed. We both cried for so long and hard that the pillows were soaked. It was ridiculous, but we fell asleep together. So we've managed. I'm still hers. She's still mine. We just both needed more than that. So much more."

"She was interested in Jake because he listened more than he talked. She never said that, but I knew. I'm glad they broke up, but doesn't she understand why. It wasn't jealousy. I mean it was, I was jealous, but for it to have been him was a twist of the knife. Like it wasn't enough to leave me, it had to be for someone so different from me that I'd know there was nothing I could do to compete."

Sally (Voice over): Well I guess we're not going to be friends then.

Harry (Voice over): Guess not.

Sally (Voice over): That's too bad. You are the only person I knew in New York.

"You'd like Freddy. He's a lot, in the best ways. His favorite movie is Moulin Rouge. That says it all really."

"I went on a date. A friend of a friend. I figured I'd already slept with someone else, what was a real date? She was nice. We got along fine. I never called her again. I feel awful about that."

Harry: Well how about this way. I love that you get cold when it's seventy one degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich, I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts, I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Years Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Sally (in tears): You see, that is just like you Harry. You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you. And I hate you Harry... I really hate you. I hate you.

They kiss.

"I want to feel that way again," Trent said, watching as a beautiful party spun out from the lovers. "I've gotten my taste of flings. I want to love like that again."

"Me too," Ted was laying down on his coach too. If they had been together, Trent could've tucked in behind him. "I liked being married. I liked being friends with the person in my bed."

"I can't imagine you not making friends with the people you sleep with."

"I'd prefer the other way around. It's better to be friends first. Don't you think?"

Trent watched Harry and Sally on a couch, years later. They talked about their wedding cake.

"I'd like that too," Trent said. "To already know someone well before sex has a lot of charm."

Outside a car door slammed, voices drifting up. Ted scrubbed at his face.

"I need to check in on some things before the day ends," Ted admitted.

"My girls are back," Trent sat up and winced at how stiff he'd gotten. "Thank you for watching it with me."

"Are you kidding? Who says no to a classic?"

The confessions piled up between them could not be tidied away though, no matter how much Ted tried to sweep them under his rug.

"You're worthy of whatever you're seeking," Trent told him.

"Nah, I'm a mess. Got to tidy that up before I worry about the rest of it."

"Who told you that?"

The front door opened.

"Daddy! We brought you a gingerbread man!"

"The siren calls. Good night, Ted."

"Good afternoon, Trent."

He swept the call into darkness just in time to catch Bonnie up and receive a slightly crushed gingerbread man.

Dinner was duly consumed and Trent put away his contemplative mood to match the jubilant spirit that Jiya and Bonnie had brought home. They played a round of Cluedo, constantly reminding Bonnie not to tip her cards forward or shout out answers. She was a very clever six, but still very much six.

On Christmas, they ate an enormous breakfast and let Bonnie make a ruin of the living room. She had a new stuffed octopus, many books, clothes from the in-laws, a gift card from Trent's father, and to her intense delight a new enormous race track for her Hot Wheels from them.

"Can we set it up right now?" she asked.

"Of course," Trent said and sat down on the floor, clicking orange and blue plastic together.

He sent Ted a video of her rolling a car up Trent's leg when he'd given up being upright and laid down next to the clanking car elevator.

I didn't know she still liked cars! Cute as a button.

An abiding affection. She keeps asking when she can drive. Terrifying. Was Henry happy with his camera?

In return, Trent got a photo of a photo. It had the slightly sepia tint of the Polaroid photos of his youth. Ted was off center in it, sitting in a pretty living room, sunlight filtering in from outside. He had hideous Christmas sweater on, bright colors and bits of tinsel. A tide of wrapping paper had washed in around his feet.

Excellent composition. He's a natural.

That's what I said!

Trent was already wearing Jiya's latest find for him. Not a t-shirt this year, but a new cardigan in deep chocolate brown with an edging of cream. It was a little too big and fell over his hands. So much for growing up and changing because he adored it. She had put on her bracelet already.

"Dear heart," he said from the floor. "Could you hand me that envelope on top of the cards?"

"We should really open these," she said as she passed it to him. "I never know what to do with them."

"Look at them once, put them in a stack, let them get dusty than throw them out in time for spring cleaning?"

"That is traditional," she conceded.

Bonnie had moved her cars back to the track, racing them against each other and keeping track of the winners on a scrap of paper. His child. Absolutely his child.

He opened the envelope and pulled out a card. It was surprisingly elegant, a reindeer in white silhouetted alone on a hillside, stars overhead. Who had picked it out? Trent opened it, two pieces of paper fluttering out to land on his chest. Inside, with excellent penmanship, the note read:

Happy Holidays, Crimm! We thought you could use these. If we're wrong, trade them in to go wherever. Thanks for the skin care tips and all. - J, R, and K

P.S. Rom-Communism. He loves this shit.

With his stomach sinking and his heart beating too quickly, Trent plucked up the white thin rectangles.

First class, roundtrip. Leaving the morning of December 31.

"I know how the villains in Scooby Doo feel now," Trent said.

"What's that, darling?" Jiya asked, opening a card. "Oh dear, Tina's baby is hideous."

"So's Tina," Trent said. "I said I know how the villains in Scooby Doo feel now."

"How's that?"

He held the tickets up. "These damn meddling kids."

She plucked one from his hand and then started laughing. "Looks like you get to avoid visiting my parents this year."

"I didn't say I was going to use them. Do you know how much those are worth? I could trade them in for three coach tickets anywhere we want to go."

Jiya folded down to sit by his head. She put three fingers on his forehead where his headaches always gathered and rubbed.

"Darling, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Going halfway around the world to make a passionate declaration? Come now. One for the memoir."

"I hate memoirs," he groused. "And I'm not inclined to passionate declarations."

"Oh so it was someone else who said I could keep his heart in a box for all time if I liked?" Jiya asked mildly.

"That was more of a threat, let's be honest."

"Take the flight, darling."

"Daddy?" Bonnie paused in her play to regard them both.

"Yes, little love?"

"Where are you going? Is it for football?"

"In a way," he said. "I'm thinking of visiting my friend Ted."

"The one with the nice one with the funny mustache who gives me biscuits on my birthday?"

"That's the one," Trent said. There were worse ways to sum up the totality of Ted Lasso. "It'd be a bit of a long sleepover, maybe. A few nights. But you'll be with Nani and Nana."

"I love sleepovers," she said. "Don't forget to bring your favorite pillow. Allison's pillows are all flat. Does Ted have flat pillows?"

"I don't know," Trent closed his eyes so he wouldn't see Jiya's face and start laughing until he cried.

"If Daddy is brave enough to stay over like you are, maybe he'll find out," Jiya said, barely holding it together.

"Daddy is very brave," Bonnie said loyally. "Even if he makes you do the spiders."

Jiya lost it and Trent howled along with her while Bonnie huffed, then returned to her cars apparently over her parents' inscrutable behavior. Beside her, Poe lazily watched the cars go around and around.