Chapter Text
Charlie Spring imagined for a flash of a moment about what his fourteen year old self would have thought. Hand running up the arm of a professional rugby player, sliding under the sleeve of his jersey, slipping beneath the fabric.
Of course, that fourteen year old Charlie’s imagination would have gone in a completely different and tawdry direction than what was actually happening, a decade later. This Charlie felt the shoulder under his fingers, clinically prodding to assess the muscle attachment and then moving it back and forth, checking the range of motion.
“I think you’re alright, Danny,” said Charlie.
“Fair dinkum, mate?” Danny rolled his right shoulder and smiled. The scrum-half had gotten trapped under some bodies during training and Charlie had hauled him to the PT room for a check. They still had some time before the season, the air still August-warm. No one wanted injuries before the season started, especially when they happened in practice. “Wouldda been devo to get hurt now.”
Charlie nodded, mentally translating to what he thought he remembered meant “devastating” in his head. “Take it easy for a few days in training and in the gym. It feels good but I’d rather you not put any more stress on it than you have to.”
Danny hopped off of the table and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. It had taken Charlie a while to feel comfortable with the team, and he was still more at ease with some players than others. Danny was newer to the team, having joined partway through last season, but Charlie already liked him.
An Australian who moved to England to play Premiership rugby, he added liveliness to the locker room, constantly bemusing his teammates with his Aussie quirks - both his attitude and his turns of phrase. He seemed to relish the stereotypes, inserting off-the-wall phrases whenever he could.
“Thanks again, mate,” said Danny. He moved to step out of the room, opening the door and nearly colliding with Amy as she bounced into the room. He split into a grin and tried to hip-check Amy, who laughed and dodged out of the way. They bumped fists as he headed out of room, bellowing the chorus to “Break My Stride" as he headed back to the locker room.
Amy rolled her eyes. “Idiot,” she said fondly. Charlie smiled back at her. They had been working together for two years now as physical therapists for the Leeds Badgers, though Amy had been there for the previous three seasons compared to Charlie’s two. They’d become fast friends, Amy immediately integrating with Charlie and Elle, his lifelong best friend. Amy had introduced Charlie to her best friend and dance partner Isaac, and the four of them adored each other.
Charlie sometimes thought back to his younger self and marveled at how he’d ended up where he did. High school had not been Charlie’s best time. He had struggled with understanding and then feeling forced to hide his sexuality, supported only by Elle and his sister Tori. He was never fully out in high school, and that smothering not-good-enough-ness combined with some mental health challenges… well, he didn’t like to think back much on that time. But there had been a silver lining. Through therapy and treatment, Charlie had become fascinated by the human body. Pushed by his parents to study more than just music in Uni (as they put it), he had agreed to a double-major in physiology and music, mostly to get them off his back. It was amazing that this combination of skin and muscle and bones and everything else could be worked, moved, healed. He knew he had a tendency towards some obsession, and had turned that obsession to knowing more about the body and understanding bodies as he became more interested in physical therapy as he progressed through school.
Tori’s…boyfriend? …partner? …emotional support human? …anthropomorphized cat? Michael, a competitive speed skater, had been another support and friend to Charlie once he and Tori had met during the tail end of her time in secondary school. He had talked to Charlie about his own physical therapists and how impactful they were in his athletic career, enthusiastically and terrifyingly connecting him with people in his network and arranging for work-studies while Charlie was at Uni.
Through Michael’s connections, Charlie’s developing skills, and sheer dumb luck, Charlie had connected with Premiership Rugby. He landed an apprentice PT role on the Badgers, coming in just a year after Amy had finished her apprenticeship year. The former head PT had worked on a phased retirement, and the team was eager to bring in some young professionals to build the future of the PT program for the Badgers. Or maybe it was because they’d be able to pay them less than they’d have to give someone more experienced. Regardless, Charlie found himself at twenty two in the locker room of a professional rugby team, a truly dumbfounding place to be.
He’d not been out in secondary school, but it had been clear that he was different. The rugby boys in particular at his secondary school, Truham, has sensed that he was different, like wolves scenting prey. He’d been bullied, and had harbored a particular lingering fear of the chavvy rugby culture, steering as far away from anyone particularly laddish as he could in Uni.
He had remembered standing outside the door to the stadium on his first day with the Badgers for at least eight minutes, combating his own terror to go in, until a trim, short, red-headed young woman walked up, cocked her head to the side, and said slowly, “You know that’s not an automatic door, right?”
Amy Jameson had welcomed Charlie in that day and bounced from player to player, introducing Charlie and launching into complicated explanations of the player’s injury history. It had helped Charlie reduce the players down to, well, bodies to start. Not in an objectifying way, but in a way that he tried to think of them as just bodies, with body histories, then trying to give space for their personalities to fill in later without his expectations. It had worked, in a sense, though he knew he had come off as aloof and cool at first, though professional. He was still an outsider - not part of the team.
Amy had pounced on him after his first day, demanding that they go to drinks. They had talked for hours, and Charlie had texted Elle about halfway through to invite her along, Amy doing the same with Isaac. The four of them clicked, and Charlie had remembered the way his throat had swelled that first night with joy. He had found people. And since that first night, the four of them were firm friends, combined by either professions or passions.
Elle, a fantastic artist, had gotten connected to the Badgers through Amy and Charlie and had started last season on the marketing team, serving as the lead designer.
Isaac had even taken on occasional copy editing work for the team. He and Amy were dance partners in her off time from the rugby team, and while they entered some competitions, they mostly danced for the love of it.
Charlie and Elle shared their passion for music and art, though Charlie was more inclined to the former and Elle the latter. Charlie realized a few months into their friendship how powerful it was to be with people who just genuinely cared about things, and weren’t embarrassed by their passions. He had spend so many years at Truham and even Uni believing that he had to rein in his passions to be cool, or even liked. But Elle and Amy and Isaac liked him despite his intensive love of his passions. Because of them, even. That feeling of comfortable acceptance was new for Charlie. It felt so good.
Charlie snapped out of his reverie as Amy joined Charlie in the PT room, lowering herself to the floor and going into a series of languid stretches. Legs in a V, she dropped her right ribs towards her right leg, hand wrapping around her foot and head looking up towards the ceiling. Charlie at this point just assumed that her spine was made out of gum, the woman was so goddamn flexible.
“So Danny’s all good, then?” she asked.
“Yep,” replied Charlie. “Though I’m sure he’ll immediately ignore what I said and challenge Lunker to a wrestling match in the next twenty minutes.”
Amy laughed and switched legs. “Well, at least it’d be over quick. Lunker could ball him up like a piece of paper.” Lunker was a prop who had about two feet and nine stone advantage over Danny, though Danny’s enthusiasm never seemed to dim. “It’s so nice to have everyone back together again, though. I missed these dummies.”
It was nice to be back. That still surprised Charlie.
Charlie’s first year had been a whirlwind of learning - learning the paperwork of the League, learning player needs and schedules and best practices for injuries, learning the goddamn rules of rugby, of which there seemed to be several thousand. He had leaned heavily on his friends, Tori and Michael, and music to get through the first year, and emerged on the other side, astonished to find himself with a locker room of largely friendly rugby players, the respect of the coaching staff, and an acceptably mediocre understanding (and care) of the rules of the game. He had good days, bad days - some days where the anxiety was still so tight in his chest that he felt like he wanted to pull his skin off. But the sick fear he had felt when he started had eased, the accusations of unfounded staring never materialized. He felt a whisper of that same acceptance that he had with his friends and family, but it felt more fragile. Like any whisper about Charlie could crumble the tenuous friendships he’d finally build among the team.
Charlie knew that he had found a unique locker room. From his brief experiences in work-study in Uni and some rotations that Michael had set him up with, he’d seen what some other locker rooms were like, rugby or not.
Casual homophobia, transphobia, racism - cutting cruelty labeled as banter, that label weaponized against anyone who objected. It was a combination of things, Charlie knew. Assistant Coach Singh, who put up with no shit and was most often present in the locker room. Assistant captain Seamus O'Reilly, who had come in the same year as Charlie, genuinely interested in everyone around him. Seamus and others had built a culture of team dinners and game and movie nights, regularly inviting Charlie and Amy, though Charlie didn’t often go. They also had women in the locker room - Amy and Singh and some others - and there was a zero-tolerance harassment understanding.
Harry Greene had made the mistake of telling Amy she should “move a few inches left” when she was working out a hip flexor knot for him during a halftime, squeaking in surprise when the captain and veteran team member Trevor Wilcox (Wilco, as everyone called him) handily hauled him up by his jersey and deposited him in the nearby ice bath. Wilco was probably the biggest reason for their locker room being what it was, not tolerant of distractions or friction on the team.
Now, this summer between his second and upcoming third season, Charlie had reflected on the team and how comfortable he was in his role. He was ready, eager, and happy to be starting a new season. And then they had gotten word that Nick Nelson was joining the team.
Nick Nelson.
Charlie had been nervous when he heard Nick was coming in on a trade, after spending time in the Leeds junior squad when he was younger. He knew what David Nelson, Nick’s brother, was like - hell, the whole league did. David was unequivocally a tremendous dick. He played dirty and was a known league-wide bully. He’d spit threats and harassment to other players throughout games, and Charlie had heard his homophobic and bigoted vitriol from the sidelines enough to know that he’d immediately quit his job if David was ever traded to the Badgers. Nick was a brilliant player, of course, Charlie knew that. But their team seemed to be more than its stars; a collection of people who gelled and laughed and were friendly.
Charlie had no idea what to expect when Nick joined the team. He had seen him during his first apprenticeship years when Nick was on the junior squad, but had never spoken to him or even met him. He knew Nick was coming in today, having moved during the off-season and was joining the team for their pre-season work. He glanced at his watch and Amy saw the motion.
“When’s Nelson coming, then?” she asked.
“Should be any time now,” said Charlie. “What’s the injury that kept him out today?”
“Quad strain,” said Amy, who’d be taking on Nick as one of her charges. With 45 active players on the senior squad, Amy and Charlie split the team. “It sounds like he’s feeling ready to go, so I’ll check him out when he comes in and we’ll see what’s what.”
Amy and Charlie chatted as they organized the PT room, organizing the weights and bands. They headed out together and Amy split off to the kitchen, grabbing some food before her meeting with Nick.
Charlie headed to the coaching office to prepare some player reports. He turned a corner and nearly ran into Alan Lange, the humorless pile of boring that was the team manager.
“Ah, Charlie,” said Mr. Lange distractedly. “I’m just showing Mr. Nelson around the building.” It was ridiculous that he was the only person who insisted on the "Mr." article before his name, but there they were.
Coming fully around the corner now, Charlie found himself face to face with Nick Nelson. Having only seen him from afar, Charlie had never even been close to him. Nick smiled at him, and Charlie almost felt a physical push on his chest. Nick was…glowing. He had brown eyes, soft and warm. His auburn hair sat perfectly. His broad shoulders and chest stretched his Leeds Badgers jumper.
After just a beat too long, Charlie remembered that he knew how to speak words and how to greet other human adults. He extended his hand.
“Hi,” said Charlie.
“Hi,” said Nick.
They shook hands. Dear god, Charlie was shaking hands with the Sun.
“Charlie is one of the team physical therapists,” explained Mr. Lange. “I’m sure you’ll get along famously.”
At that moment, Amy came swinging around the corner, joining the pile-up, a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth.
“You must be Nick!” she said cheerily. “I’m Amy, one of the physios with Charlie. You and I will chat in a bit and we can take a look at your quad. Lange, can you end the tour at the PT office, and we’ll get started then, Nick?” Amy was the only one who didn't usually use the "Mr.". Charlie didn't know it was forgetfulness or willfulness. Knowing Amy, it was most likely the latter disguised as the former.
“Sounds great,” said Nick. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”
“Let’s keep moving,” said Mr. Lange in his slow, flat tone. “We’ll head to the pitch and then I’ll show you the rest of the building.” With all the pizzaz of a wet paper bag, Mr. Lange started walking down the hall past Charlie, Nick in his wake.
“Well, bye,” said Nick with a smile and a wave to Amy and Charlie.
Charlie’s throat felt a little stuck, a little too dry. “Bye.”
Charlie and Amy watched Nick and Mr. Lange recede down the hallway.
“Seems nice,” said Amy.
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “He does.”
Charlie felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
When r u done with practice? Meet at the normal spot?
Charlie looked at it, his heart jumping a little.
done around 6. yeah, sounds good!
Amy looked at him, smiling. “Is that Elle? Are we going to get a post-work drink?”
Charlie swallowed. “No, not Elle.” He focused on maintaining an even, normal tone. “I’ve actually got an appointment after work today, so no drinks for me, unfortunately. But you two and Isaac should go. You can contemplate all of the ways the three of you love me and come back with a report tomorrow.”
Amy nudged him with her hip and smiled. “It’d take more than a happy hour to do that, babe!”
Charlie smiled at her, masking the twist in his gut.
-
A few hours later, Charlie walked out alongside a few of the rugby boys and staffers exiting. Across the car park, he saw Nick and Seamus talking animatedly, Seamus gesturing and Nick nodding and doing the same. He raised his hand to wave, but they were too far away to have seen that Charlie was there. He felt a tug in his chest and took a deep breath to soothe it down. Danny bounced past him, headed to his Range Rover, yelling about Charlie to some of the other lads as he went.
“The magician himself, Charles Copernicus Spring! You healed my shoulder with your magic touch! He has powers, boys, power!” Wilco and Lunker, walking by, laughed.
“Too bad I have to work with Amy,” said Lunker. “The only magic is when she doesn’t leave you in tears with a sports massage. How is so much evil packed into such a small body?”
They all laughed at that, and Charlie waved to the boys as he walked to the bus stop and boarded when it came, leaning his head against a window until he got off at the second stop. It dropped him near a small park, shaded with tall, broad trees. He walked to the far corner of the lot next to a shining Mercedes sedan, sliding in to the passenger side. Dark eyes watched him get in the car, a few strands of silky brown hair falling in front of them in the way that always made Charlie feel dizzy.
Charlie looked at Ben Hope and smiled. “How was your month off?”
“Good,” said Ben, meeting Charlie’s smile with his own smirk. “You?”
“Well, it’s not really a lot of time off for us. We’re working with the guys on-” Ben crashed his lips to Charlie’s, cutting him off. Charlie’s breath hitched and it took him a moment, and then he was kissing Ben back. Ben’s lips were soft, and he pushed his tongue into Charlie’s mouth, fingers on the back of his head. Charlie broke away for a breath, and Ben pulled him back. Charlie’s heart jumped. He hadn’t seen Ben in a while - in too long. Ben was a sales executive for the junior squad of the Badgers, and his role enjoyed some down time in the off season. Charlie had hoped that they would have spent more time together while Ben was free, but that hadn’t been the case. Ben had been busy, had plans. Ben wasn’t great at texting back. Ben had gotten some travel in during his time off, Charlie knew. It made sense that they hadn’t seen each other.
How Charlie Spring was kissing Ben Hope in a shaded car park in the fading sunlight was still perplexing and exhilarating to Charlie.
Charlie, well… Charlie wasn’t exactly out. He knew he was gay; he had known since Truham. Amy and Elle and Isaac knew of course, and Tori and Michael and his parents. And Olly, his incredibly loving little brother. And of course, all of them reacted and behaved the way people were supposed to - that contradictory combination of not caring because his sexuality didn’t matter and caring because his sexuality did matter. Charlie had made the decision to not come out at work, though, at least for now. While he liked the team and felt accepted by them, he didn’t want the questions, the looks. He wanted to be known for how he did his job, not his sexuality. And it was still a rugby locker room - filled with testosterone-laden men who grew up as boys in other rugby locker rooms, hearing god knows what messages, believing any number of things. Or even if not believing, hearing other boys believe those things.
Charlie had decided to keep his sexuality private when he was at work, as to avoid any distractions. And that had gone well for the first nearly two years, until that day Ben had approached him when he worked late one night after practice, that first time in the PT room…
Charlie kissed Ben back, leaning his head for another angle. Charlie drew back once more, breaking the kiss to look at Ben, about to ask if he’d want to come to Charlie’s that evening for dinner. He knew Ben was confused and conflicted about his own sexuality, and Charlie knew Ben wasn’t ready for anything public at all. Charlie wanted with his whole chest to spend time with Ben, to have him stay over and watch telly, to get a coffee together. Those dumb, domestic things. But Ben wasn’t ready. Charlie started to ask when a sweep of headlamps from another car illuminated them, and Ben drew back quickly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“Gotta go,” murmured Ben, drawing fully back into his own seat. “Still don’t tell anyone about this.”
Charlie opened his mouth, and then closed it again and nodded. “I get it, I know.” He scrambled to get out of the car, knowing that Ben got especially nervous when other people were around. He closed the passenger door and gave a small wave as Ben pulled back, leaving the parking lot without another glance. Charlie stood for a moment before walking back to the park bus stop, where he’d wait for a ride home to his quiet, solitary flat.
-
Elle picked him up for work the next day and they had a lovely ride, listening to music and chatting about the week. Elle told Charlie about the new campaign she was working on for the team this year, one focused on bringing in groups of people who traditionally attended less rugby - more women, more older adults, more people of color. Her “Rugby For All” campaign was welcomed by the marketing team, and she was in the midst of creating a lot of new artwork for the appeal.
They walked in together, and Elle came with Charlie to the PT room to say hi to Amy before she split off to her office for the day. As they approached the room, Nick exited. He smiled broadly and met Charlie’s eyes.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Charlie’s brain again took just a millisecond too long to remember human things. “Nick, this is Elle. She’s on our design team and does a lot of the art for marketing.”
Nick extended his hand and shook Elle’s, politely asking what she was working on. Elle gave a quick overview of the Rugby For All campaign, and Nick nodded, looking interested. After a quick conversation, Charlie’s eyes darting between Nick and Elle, Nick excused himself, smiled at Charlie again, and headed down to the locker room.
Elle glanced at Charlie. “That’s the new player, right?”
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “That’s Nick Nelson.”
“Hope he’s not like his brother,” murmured Elle.
“I get the feeling he’s not," said Charlie, both to Elle and himself.
-
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of practices, friendlies, scrimmages, and injuries. Amy and Charlie iced knees and taped eyebrows, stretched muscles and informed massive men that they weren’t allowed to play for a few days or weeks at a time. And every day, every time Charlie saw Nick in the hallway or the locker room, Nick always smiled and said hi. Charlie always said hi back, smiling with increasing confidence each time, a little less shy and nervous around Nick with the passing weeks.
During his time in the locker room, Charlie saw Nick got on well with all of the other lads. The younger lads often gravitated towards one another, and he nearly always saw Nick with a combination of Seamus, Danny, James (who had joined just this season). Other players drifted around their orbit, like Harry, always trying to horn in on conversations, but those four seemed to have a connection, Seamus and Nick in particular. Amy reported that Nick’s quad seemed to be perfect, and that she had no worries about the upcoming season.
Charlie knew Ben was busy - the start of the season was always rough for sales, trying to make up for missed projections. He wished Ben would text back more often, but knew he was swamped. Charlie was, too, but always found the few seconds to text Ben (or any of his other friends, or Tori, or Michael, or Olly…). Ben just had different ways of showing that he cared. He showed that he cared in the car with Charlie, brushing back Charlie’s dark curls. He was just less…verbal about it. They saw each other a few times a week, but never for more than a half an hour. Ben came by Charlie’s a few times or ushered Charlie up the stairs of his own flat, furtively looking around and barking at Charlie to hurry, be quick, hurry up. Charlie knew he was busy. He knew Ben was stressed.
Two weeks before the season started, Charlie knocked on the closed PT door, Amy calling him to come in after a moment, where he knew she was checking with whoever she was with that they were okay for someone else to come in. He came in and locked eyes with Nick Nelson’s upturned face, laying on his stomach with Amy stretching his quad for him, thigh lifted on her shoulder as she pushed his leg up and encouraged his foot towards his butt to increase the stretch. It was an exercise that Charlie had performed hundreds if not thousands of times. So why the hell was he blushing, watching this? Nick smiled at him from his prone position.
“Hhhh-i,” breathed Nick, screwing up his face with the intensity of the stretch.
“Hi,” said Charlie. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, sorry! Just needed to get some tape.”
Amy said breezily, “Not interrupting! We’re actually just about done. Actually, I do need to head to the gym to give Fitzy a few new exercises. Nick, can you make sure to write down the name of that anti-inflammatory you were asking about on a post-it before you leave?”
She released the stretch, gave Nick’s calf a quick pat, like a cow, and headed out of the room, squinting her smiling face at Charlie playfully as she left.
Charlie busied himself with the materials as Nick turned himself on the table, sitting up and rubbing his face.
“Feeling okay?” asked Charlie.
“Yeah, feeling much better. That quad’s been bothering me for ages,” Nick said, getting up. He walked over to the desk and picked up a pen, turning it over in his hands. “I was little nervous about healing up, but Coach did tell me that the Badgers had an ace PT team.”
Charlie laughed lightly. “We do okay. How’d you hurt it?”
Nick grimaced, fiddling with the pen. “A bad tackle. My leg got caught behind me but I got pushed forward as I fell, and I felt it go.”
Charlie now vaguely remembered this from when he and Amy learned that Nick would join the team, looking over his playing and injury history. Nick was looking away, clearly remembering the injury in his mind. Charlie seemed to remember…wasn’t Nick’s brother involved in that tackle? He opened his mouth to ask when Nick exclaimed.
“Shit!”
“What’s up?” asked Charlie.
Nick looked at the ruined pen in his hands, blue ink bleeding out and staining his skin. He laughed incredulously and held his hands up to Charlie. “What do I do?!”
Charlie burst out laughing. “Oh, fuck. Uh - let’s try to wash it off?” He turned on the sink for Nick, and Nick held his hands under, the ink stubbornly clinging to Nick and almost seeming to get defiantly darker.
Nick mock-wailed, “They’re gonna be blue forever!”
“You look like you slapped a Smurf,” said Charlie.
Nick laughed aloud. “Maybe I can pretend it’s a tattoo?”
“You can make it the new team fashion! Here…” Charlie grabbed some hand sanitizer. “This might help. The alcohol in it might help dissolve the ink a bit.”
“Smart,” Nick smiled. He withdrew his hands from the sink and held them outstretched after drying them off, Charlie pumping some sanitizer into his palms. He wrung them together, the ink stubbornly clinging. He looked at Charlie, his eyes laughing. “The lads are not going to let me live this down, are they?”
“Nope,” Charlie said. “Absolutely not.”
-
Two days before the season started, Charlie and Amy were in the locker room after a hard practice, both chasing down players that needed tending to. Charlie was taping up Fitzy’s fingers while Amy had cornered Danny to force him to do some stretches while Seamus supervised to make sure he didn’t escape.
Coach Croft called the locker room to order, side conversations winding down. “It’s been a hell of a pre-season, lads,” started Coach Croft. “You’ve worked hard. You’ve improved and studied and have come together as a team, even more so from last year. I’m proud to announce captains for this year, voted on by the team. First captain - Wilco.”
The team burst into raucous applause, though there was no surprise to it. Wilco had been captain for several years, and was one of the first influences guiding the locker room towards what it was today.
“Assistant captain - Seamus O'Reilly.” Again, a burst of applause and shouting, loudest from Danny, yelling, “Good on ya, mate!” above the din.
“And our second assistant captain - Nick Nelson.” Charlie’s eyes shot to Nick’s face as the lads exploded, Danny jumping nearly onto his shoulders in celebration. Nick looked startled, and then a huge, embarrassed grin split his face.
“Nelson, you’re the youngest assistant we’ve had on this team, but clearly, you’ve made an impression during these two months,” continued Coach.
Charlie knew this was true. He had seen the late night that Nick pulled, the conversations he had with every member of the team, the way he remembered the janitors’ names. He had captured hearts and minds in Leeds, too - constantly pulled into interviews and getting a lot of attention on Twitter. And of course - he was an incredible player, most people saying he'd be one of the leagues stars within a few years. Charlie knew this captaincy would set Twitter even more ablaze - Nick would be a year younger than Seamus was when he was named assistant captain. And it was his first three months on the team. It really spoke to what his teammates thought of him. Charlie’s heart was nearly bursting with joy and pride for Nick. He was being clapped on the back still, his face and neck red. His brown eyes momentarily met Charlie’s blue ones, and Charlie looked away, flushed at being caught. He missed Nick’s smile back.
-
Amy and Charlie were packing up the PT room as they prepared for their day off tomorrow, ahead of the first home game. There was a knock at the open door, and Seamus and Nick leaned in.
“Team dinner tonight, docs,” announced Seamus. “The Taverna, at eight.”
“I’m in,” said Amy.
“Charlie?”
“Oh, I…” Charlie trailed off. He didn’t quite feel like part of team, even though Seamus and Danny were quick to retort when Amy or Charlie (mostly Charlie) hinted at this.
“Please come,” said Nick, with a grin. “It’s our last team event before the game next week.”
Charlie felt his heart stutter. “Okay,” he said slowly, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
-
Amy picked Charlie up at 7:45, Charlie having texted her demanding that they be a little late, and not the first ones to Taverna. He knew from the few he had attended that it was less of a sit-down dinner, more of high tables and the team staff ordering masses of food, which the boys all stole from each other. He could feel Amy rolling her eyes when he sent that text, but she acquiesced, anyway.
On their way to the restaurant, they talked about Amy’s emerging interest into dating again. She had dated a guy named Caden for a year and a half. Caden had spoken about moving in together, and had even given Amy a key. When she had gone over to his place one evening when he was supposed to be on a work trip, delivering a meal for him to come home to, she had walked in on what she had described later to Charlie as Caden “having non-accidental penetrative intercourse” with another woman. Seamus and Danny had been livid when they heard about it, and had insisted on going with Amy and Charlie when she met up with Caden for the last time to get her things back. It hadn’t been pretty. But that had also been one of the first times that Charlie really had felt like they were part of the team; that Seamus and Danny authentically cared. At least about Amy. But Charlie had been glad to be a part of it and it had cemented his views of both Seamus and Danny - decent guys who were interested in the people in their lives.
Amy spoke for a while about dating apps and if she was or was not going to go on any of them, when she caught herself. “Christ, Charlie, what white woman nonsense is this. I’ve been talking about myself for about seventeen hours. What’s up with you? She paused, cautious. “Have you thought at all about dating? Like, maybe on the road even?”
She knew that Charlie was cautious about coming out publicly to the rugby team, and held on to worry about even online dating in their town getting back around. Charlie’s stomach flipped, like it did every time he lied by omission about Ben. He wanted to tell her and Elle and Isaac so badly, but he would never out Ben. And he didn’t really want to say any of it out loud, either, but he wasn’t sure why. It just sounded bad when he said it out loud, like it was this grammar school secret make-out thing. It didn’t sound like the thing a twenty-four year old man did.
“A bit, yeah. But honestly, we’ve been so busy that there’s not a lot of time.”
“Yeah, I know,” agreed Amy. “Isaac’s been giving me shit for how little we’re dancing right now.”
“How is Isaac?” asked Charlie, seizing the opportunity to change the subject.
“He’s doing great,” Amy said happily. Isaac was muscular and and incredible dancer. He was also a voracious reader, almost never without a book in hand unless he and Amy were practicing or performing. Amy and Charlie eventually stopped even teasing him about bringing a book to dinner or bars because it was such a frequent occurrence.
“He’s actually been getting involved in the Leeds LGBTQIA+ spaces lately, y’know, provide some ace representation.”
“That’s great,” said Charlie, who hadn’t realized that Isaac was getting more involved in the queer community. Isaac was one of those “mystery wrapped in enigma” type of people, and genuinely one of the nicest people that Charlie knew. He was quiet, caring, and surprisingly poignant, often coming up for air from a book to drop a quip, a piece of stunning wisdom, or an insight the other three hadn’t thought of.
Amy pulled into the car park and turned off the car. “Ready?” she asked with a grin.
“Ready,” said Charlie, actually feeling…ready.
They walked in to a wall of noise. The team was in the back half of the pub, with the front half crowded with Badgers fans craning to get a look at their favorite players and trying to shoehorn their way in to the player party. Amy and Charlie squeezed their way to the back, catching James’s eye, who pointed them out to the hostess, who let them through.
A chorus of yells went up as they walked in, greeting them. Charlie figured it was the guys being polite, but did notice that when Mr. Lange walked in, there were more nods and handshakes than genuine enthusiasm. Though, generating a warmer welcome than Lange was not something to take particular pride in.
Amy was pulled into a conversation with Lunker and James, and Charlie looked around, a bit uncomfortable, not sure where to stand or if he should join the conversation. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Seamus grinning.
“All right, mate?” Seamus handed Charlie a beer. Charlie was not a beer drinker…but still, it was nice to be thought of.
“All right,” said Charlie.
“So, give me the rundown. How’s everyone looking for the game?” asked Seamus.
This Charlie could do. “Not bad. Lucas and Will are both back to fit, and Les should be set to go in a week, I think.”
“What about Nelson? Still looking okay?”
“As far as I know, yeah,” said Charlie. “He’s one of Amy’s, but she said his quad is healed and he’s done plenty of work to get it back to full strength.”
“Looks like he’ll do a bit more work now, too,” remarked Seamus, nodding towards the bar.
Some cute blonde girl had worked her way into the room, and was talking to Nick by the bar, her head cocked to the side. Nick was smiling down at her, and she sidled closer, sliding her hand up his arm. Charlie had seen this hundreds of times before. He knew how most of the rugby boys flirted, the way they commanded attention when they went out. He knew how many women clamored to get pictures with them, drinks, sexual conquests - and he knew Nick would be a popular commodity. Seamus was frequently the object of attention, often working his charm to get free drinks or better seating, though he never messed around, as he had a girlfriend. Nick looked over, seeing him and Seamus. Charlie could see Nick nodding and seemingly wrapping the conversation, taking a quick selfie with the girl’s phone and handing it back to her and making his way to them, the girl looking disappointed as he left.
“Trying to pull there, Nelson?” asked Seamus.
Nick looked embarrassed. “Oh…no. No, she was just a fan wanting a picture.”
Seamus laughed. “‘Course she was,” he said stoutly. “I’m off to the loo, lads.”
Charlie found himself standing with Nick Nelson. He was glad he had a drink in his hands so he had something to do with them. “So…congratulations on the captainship. That’s really incredible.”
Nick smiled and rubbed his hand on his face for a moment. “I truly never expected that. I mean, absolutely stunned.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” said Charlie, more bold than usual. “It’s clear that you’ve had a pretty big influence on the team already. It seems like it’s a natural fit for you and the club.”
“You sound like my mum,” laughed Nick. “She said nearly the same thing. She was so lovely about it. She told me that she was proud but not surprised, and said she knew before I was even traded that this was the team for me.”
“Your mum sounds great,” said Charlie. He knew this was somewhat shaky ground. Nick’s family was seemingly a mixed bag, based on what he knew of Nick’s brother and what he was hearing about his mum.
Nick smiled. “She is. She was a single mum for most of my playing life, and was the most determined sports mum imaginable. She was at every match, rain or shine, even after work days. She supported me when I went into the development program instead of Uni, and said I’m welcome to live in her house when I’m in my forties post-rugby and do decide to go to Uni.” Charlie laughed.
“Yeah, the dream of every retired pro rugby player. Post-career with mum.”
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try her tea,” teased Nick. “I got rinsed for living with her for so long during juniors, but who wants to do their own laundry? And cook?”
Their talk turned to safer waters, away from family and to talk of what Nick liked to cook. Charlie was surprised that Nick did cook - and seemingly, bake, which Nick admitted sheepishly. They had been talking for twenty minutes when Coach Singh called everyone to attention. She gave a speech about the rookies on the team, and as a room, they applauded for each rookie, cheers and celebration rising up as drinks went down.
Later, Charlie found himself at a table with Amy, Danny, James, and Seamus. Nick was talking to Wilco, deep in a serious-looking conversation. James and Danny were interrupting each other, telling stories from their time in Uni, when they had played together.
“So, we’re headed home from the bar,” James continued, “And there’s this line of dark stuff that we see when we get to our street. We’re all like, what the fuck is this? Oreo crumbs? So we keep walking home and the line is still on the street, and then we see it goes into our house. And so we follow it inside, and it goes in the door, and then up the first set of stairs, and then down the hallway, and then up the second set of stairs, and then, and fucking then, we see Danny, stark raving naked, with a tree from a nursery, you know where the roots are wrapped in fabric with all the dirt on them? And Danny is in the hall, trying to plant the tree on his bed, yelling, ‘TOO DAMN LONG! We’ve been living in this shithole TOO DAMN LONG and I’m gonna make this motherfucker a tropical forest!’”
They all howled with laughter. Charlie had tears in his eyes as Danny mimed how he had apparently tried to plant the tree, James interrupting that Danny clearly had no memory of that night, and Danny retorting that he had gotten enough memories from the other lads to let him develop a memory, and on and on. They went on, James and Danny exchanging Uni and early team stories, each one more ridiculous than the last. Charlie knew that they had been on the same Uni team and played in the league on separate teams in Premiership before Danny was traded to the Badgers, James joining this year. It must be great to be back together; he couldn’t imagine being split up from Elle after their lifetime growing up together.
Charlie excused himself to use the toilet, and walked down the hall towards the loo. As he was going down, he saw Nick exiting, and they met in the hall.
“Hi,” said Nick with a smile.
“Hi,” Charlie smiled back.
“It looked like you were getting some rowdy stories from James and Danny,” said Nick.
“My god, yeah,” said Charlie. “I mean, Danny now is ridiculous, I almost don’t want to imagine nineteen year old Danny.”
Nick laughed and shuddered. “Every mother’s nightmare.” His voice softened. “I’m glad you came.”
Charlie smiled. “I’m glad I did, too. Thanks for…thanks for welcoming me.”
Nick returned the smile. “I’m headed out in a few. Gotta rest up tomorrow to be ready for the game. Do you need a ride?” Charlie felt his heart jump, though he knew Nick was just being polite.
“No, thanks, Amy and I live pretty close so she’ll drop me off.” Did Nick look disappointed, even fleetingly? No, definitely not.
“Sounds good,” said Nick. “Have a great night, Charlie.”
“You, too. Thanks, Nick.”
Charlie went into the loo and stood for a moment, looking at the mirror and breathing. It was so stupid to have a crush on Nick Nelson. And it was Nick’s fault, too. It was unfair for someone to be talented at sport and genuinely kind and be that muscular and to have that disarming charm. Yeah. This was definitely Nick’s fault.
A bit later, a few of the executives and back office staff started to show up to get some free drinks from the team. Elle had gone to an art show that night, so she wasn’t attending, but Charlie said hi to the people he knew from finance, sales, marketing. Imogen in media relations grabbed Charlie at one point to let him know that a new media specialist was coming on board - the team was going to make an internally-produced documentary of the season - and promised to introduce him soon. Tao, he thought his name was?
Charlie and Amy met back up a few minutes later, and decided that they were going to head out. As they went to leave the back room, Charlie’s eye was caught by some motion going on in the corner of the room. It was nothing foreign to a rugby party, but still drew his eyes. Charlie felt sick as he watched Ben lean down to kiss a brunette woman, brushing her hair back and tilting his head to kiss her more deeply. In public. In front of the team. In front of everyone. Charlie shrank back, grateful Ben didn’t seem to realize he was there. He gave a last, desperate look as he and Amy left, Ben’s hand in the woman’s hair and one wrapped around her back.
-
Charlie pulled out his phone, trying to decide what to text Ben after a quiet car ride home with Amy, her not fully seeming to buy his claim that he over-indulged.
do you have a girlfriend? No, that could get into semantics of "girlfriend" versus "showy public hookup friend".
who were you kissing today? Too direct?
do you even like me? Too intense.
you’ve got some fucking nerve… He wished he would send that.
Charlie sighed. He was furious. He was hurt. He was…worth more than this. Was he? Maybe not. But he didn’t want this. This constant gut-twisting of wondering if Ben even cared about him. He had made so many excuses for Ben - him being busy, his terror at coming out. But he couldn’t escape that Ben definitively cared less than he did. And a tiny, flickering part of him thought that maybe he could find someone who did care about him. Someone who wanted to spend time with him.
I don’t want to meet up any more.
what the FUCK Charlie - why not??
sorry
FFS charlie stop being dramatic
WHY NOT
We’re not gonna get caught
Charlie??
dont be a bitch, Charlie
Charlie closed and silenced his phone and dropped into bed. He didn’t sleep.