Chapter Text
“You want me to do what?”
Erling gives Jude the bucket with water and soap, “Pay for your sins.” He points to the bikes Nyland and Schjelderup have already changed the tires of, five out of fifteen, “-give em a good scrub, you know how it’s done.”
Jude groans, “Is there ANY other way I can pay off my debt?”
“You could give us your kidney, we’re not picky with currency”
At this Jude perks up, obviously thinking Erling is kidding he says “Yeah sure, I’ll give you my kidney, and why not take a lung as well that would surely cover all the costs”
“Doctor’s office is right there” Erling tells him simply, pointing to the door with a sign reading “Dr. O Sand”.
Jude turns a little pale. Then without a word, he grabs the bucket and walks over to the first bike.
—--------
The following days are hell. Erling tries to dump Bellingham on whoever is unfortunate enough to be close by at the moment, Nyland, Sorloth, Martin, whoever, but in the end he always ends up with Erling, him being the only one patient enough to deal with the flirting and the remarks for more than two minutes. The constant remarks he can deal with, it’s the flirting that gets to him for some fucking reason, the flirting and the little sultry looks thrown his way, it’s disgusting. Every time Bellingham licks his damn stupid lips for no reason Erling is one step closer to slam dunking the guy into the asphalt with intent to harm.
Oohh the glory. To just wrap his hands around that tan neck and push him-
“Hey, boss” Martin's voice jerks Erling out of his thoughts with a surprised cough. *Fuck is he blushing?*
“What?”
“It’s Bellingham” when is it not
“What about him?”
“I feel it’s my duty to inform you that he’s uhm…. found the football” okay that's not gonna be good for anyone
“Jesus, why don’t you just tell him to quit it? Don’t need my permission for that”
Martin rubs at his neck nervously “Yeah about that-“ the sentence is cut off by the unmistakable sound of a bottle being broken downstairs. Fuck.
In the blink of an eye Erling is out of the chair and has descended the flight of stairs in two steps. During those three point five second it takes to get to the living room the sounds of commotion have increased significantly, as have Erling's heart rate.
Something explodes by Erling's head the moment he steps into the doorway, another bottle, thrown by none other than Alexander Sorloth from where he is being held back by Julian and Nyland over by the piano.
“You little rat, you touch that thing again and I’ll cut off your fingers and shove them down your throat!!” He shouts in Norwegian at a very offended looking Bellingham standing off to the side, with a sea of broken glass surrounding his leather boots and blood dripping down his forehead. Over by the dresser is the worn football Sorloth usually kept safely in the privacy of his own room.
Erling stalks over to the boy.
“It wasn’t even my fault, the door was open and-“ he starts in that annoying whiny tone of his but he doesn’t have time to finish before Erling cuts him off.
“If you know what’s good for you you get out of here” he growls, locking eyes with Bellingham through the blood dripping into and blending with the deep brown of his irises before forcefully shoving the boy towards the doorway. “and don’t get any on the carpet!”
For a split second Erling thinks he spots something hurt flashing over Bellingham's face before he turns away and disappears down the hallway, but no.
After an eternity of trying to calm Sorloth down, Erling can finally breathe out, turning his attention back to the nowhere to be seen Englishman. That idiot had caused more ruckus among his men than Sorloth himself ever did. Erling chuckles to himself, quite impressive actually. But more than anything was it annoying and a potential danger to it all. Part of Erling wants to just go back to his room and forget it all happened, he could have the boys clean up the broken glass later, but part of him also feels the urge to go and check in on the kid.
He shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t care what happened to him, but for now he was one of Erling's men, there was no way around it, and he should be treated as such, or as close to it as possible at least.
But Bellingham is nowhere to be found, not in any of the six bathrooms in the building, not in the kitchen, not in his room, nowhere. Erling asks around but no one has seen him. Fuck. Maybe he’s just had enough and went back to Kane and his old pack? But when Erling goes out to the garage to check, his bike is still there, standing a little off to the side from the team's own.
It is outside by the west wall, in the gray evening light, where Erling finds him in the end. He whips around, heart pounding in his chest, as he hears a scratchy, dry voice from behind.
“Let me just finish this and then you can beat me up too” It’s devoid of emotion but the phrasing makes irritation stir in Erling's gut.
“Don’t pull the pity card on me, because it’s not gonna work.” he scoffs. Walking up to the other Erling can see that the blood has dried up slightly where it’s run down Bellingham's face and is now starting to flake off, he watches as the other picks away a few flakes that fall to the ground along with the ash from the cigarette.
They stand quiet for a while, Jude’s throat muscles working frantically while he takes drag after drag of the now barely existing cigarette, looking off to the side as if nothing concerned him.
“He threw bottles at me” Jude says angrily after a while and no matter how much he tries to hide it Erling can hear the tightness in his voice.
“I know. He shouldn’t have done that”
“I mean like…” Jude swallows audibly, stubbornly stares off to the side, “that shit is dangerous for real, I could-“, Erling can do nothing but stand there, listening as the tremble in the previously so cocky boy’s voice grows stronger along with the nervous bouncing of his leg.
“Just…. fuck him” Jude concludes after a while, wiping his eyes angrily. He looks so young then, like a stubborn and angry child, with blood and dirt covering his face and hands as he sulks. Erling didn’t think it was possible for the boy to invoke any other feeling than anger, irritation and exasperation, but now he feels something close to pity collect like dust in a far corner of his stomach. He doesn’t let it show though, who knows what ideas Bellingham might get.
“Well you shouldn’t have fucked with that football, it means a lot to Sorloth”
Bellingham throws his hands in the air, “Christ, I was just playing with it, that’s what you do with footballs! It was him who overreacted, man can’t control his emotions”
Erling snaps, the infinite anger is back at 100 again. If this little prick knew half of what Sorloth had been through he would be crying on the floor.
“Be careful with what you say” he practically growls at Bellingham who stands his ground, “you never know what someone might have been through”
“Fucking exactly!!”
For a moment Erling is a bit taken aback by the sudden bitterness in the boy’s voice. They stare each other down, giving the words time to settle in Erling as they do. Whatever, they all had tragic backstories and were all more or less runaways in some way or another. It barely touched him in the back anymore, alcoholic parents, dead relatives, a friend who overdosed, they all had something heavy in the baggage, nothing to brag about. He sighs, sizes Jude up and down one last time.
“Go and get yourself cleaned up” he orders flatly, then walks back in. Once again the gaze of the other follows Erling like the feeling of an uncomfortable backpack digging into his shoulderblades.
A few hours later Jude comes down from his temporary room to eat dinner with the rest of them. Still sulking. With all the blood gone it’s clear that Sorloth had managed to get his hands on him after all, if the dark halo around his left eye and obviously split lip were anything to go by. Erling also can’t help but notice the now much cleaner hair that still glitters slightly after being under the spray of the shower. Wonder how it would feel between his fingers? He does a double take, where had that thought come from? He quickly shakes it off. Dangerous thoughts have no place in this life of his.
That night as he lays in bed, listening to the sleeping house, as well as the frantic creaking of a bed in one of the adjacent rooms, Erling promises himself to try and be a little bit nicer to the rat.