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Everything is so loud; fans and photographers and journalists haven’t stopped cheering and shouting since the whistle blew. It's all a bit of a whirlwind. You hold your niece close, she’s getting so big so fast and you’ve missed so much already. You soak in this moment as you talk with your mom and sister in this tiny space you’ve carved out in the chaos. You know they are so proud and family has always meant the world to you.
There’s some commotion while the media team tries to gather all their gear left in the stands and Christen still hasn’t made her way over despite Tyler and Francesca next to your mom waving frantically for her attention.
“I’ll go grab her, but I’m taking the baby with me. I’m not ready to give her back yet”. And maybe you just want to show off how adorable she is, especially with one person in particular. Your sister nods and you step down and set off through the sea of people, making a beeline for Christen on the field, eyes only for her and a proud ear to ear smile on your face.
You get intercepted by a cooing Alyssa and Ali, and eventually Ashlyn because everyone loves a cute baby and your niece happens to be the cutest, you get it. You might be more proud holding her than holding the trophy. But then they all get distracted and you slowly make your way to your girl. “Let’s go see auntie Chris,” you whisper as you press another sweet kiss to the side of her little head.
Christen looks like a literal goddess standing there with her hands on her hips and the wind blowing through her hair, and when she looks back at you again it takes your breath away. She’s beautiful. You walk slowly so you don’t trip over your own two feet while carrying precious cargo. You’re sure you have actual thumping hearts in your eyes and the dopiest smile but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Once close enough you briefly reach out one hand on instinct, feeling her pull and wanting to wrap an arm around her and bring her in even closer to share this, before remembering where you are and drawing it back in. Christen reaches out and lightly brushes your elbow, the smallest touch of reassurance and comfort.
She feels it too.
“Hi cutie, you’re getting so big” she says as she tickles the baby’s back gently trying to get her attention, but the little one is too mesmerized by everything else going on, and you’re too distracted by your heart about to burst from this…. this feeling.
Alyssa swoops in to take the baby from your arms and teammates crowd around again, effectively killing the moment. But you don’t mind sharing. You both know Christen gets to see her again soon in a quieter more intimate family setting, and spoil her rotten right along with you.
Hopefully you’ll have little ones of your own to spoil down the road. Oh god, is this… is this baby fever? Is that what this feeling is? You can’t wipe the grin off your face.
Soon the media team reminds you there’s more pictures to take so you make your way back to the stands and reluctantly hand your niece back up to your sister. With a few more parting words of pride and love from your family, you remember Tyler and Francesca are still waiting for Christen and you know they are anxious to see and congratulate her. You turn back to the pitch on a mission.
“Chris!”
She doesn’t hear you over the incessant roar of people and action so you keep shouting as you walk back to where you left her.
With one last call when you get close enough, she finally turns and your knees go a little weak. You manage to maintain your stride with only the smallest waver (you tell yourself its due to the game and exhaustion, but deep down you know it happens every time she looks at you with that killer smile and those damn eyes).
God she’s beautiful. You know this, you’ve always known. Everyone knows. But sometimes you still can’t believe she’s yours. Wait, focus Tobin.
“Your peeps are waiting for you, they’re right in front on the railing”. In the back of your mind you register Alyssa standing there, but don’t really see her.
“Yeah I’ll go say hi soon, we’re about to take more pictures. What’s going on with your medal here?” she teases.
Some smart ass comment leaves your mouth but you aren’t even really sure what you said before you trail off entirely because she gives a cute little shrug and reaches up around your neck to adjust the band, and suddenly everything else slows down, goes quiet, and disappears.
It’s one of those moments; one of the countless moments you’ve gotten lost in under the spell of Christen Press, triggered by the most mundane things when in her presence. Who knew something as simple as adjusting a medal could be so hot?? All you can focus on is her lips and the cute little tip of her tongue sticking out as she concentrates on her task. Until she smiles and you look up into those eyes you love so much and that’s not any better and fuck you want to kiss her.
You know the personal and work boundaries you both set; on the pitch and when on official soccer duty you are teammates and nothing but professionally friendly, even if she is never more than 3 feet away from you at all times.
But GOD you want to kiss her so bad.
You sway forwards slightly, her pull is so fucking strong and she’s so close; but you somehow summon the resolve to hold back. Thank god for all those years of practicing self control because in this little moment you almost say to hell with it. You just won back-to-back world cups and want nothing more than swoop this woman up and kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed dammit.
It lasts maybe all of three seconds in real time and before you know it the spell is broken and she lets go, “there, all better”.
“Always looking out for me,” you breathe out as you finally look down to admire her work because you have to look away from her face before you do something stupid.
You look back up into her eyes for just a few more moments to savor it as she explains how the lanyard is supposed to lay flat and show the FIFA logo or something, you don’t really care. You let out a breath and glance around the stadium and everything snaps back into reality.
Alyssa reaches up to take off and fix her own medal; you completely forgot she was even standing there. You hear directions being shouted for the next photo op and use that as a reason to walk away and clear the Christen Press induced fog, finding Mal to steal the shiny new trophy from.
~~~
Later on in the elevator of the hotel, headed up to change before the party with everyone’s friends and family, when the fans and the cameras and the noise are gone and you finally have a small moment alone, (and admittedly still pleasantly tipsy from the champagne consumed in the locker room) you pull her into your arms and kiss her deeply like you’ve wanted to since you walked across the field looking into her eyes while holding your niece and saw your future.
Like you’ve wanted to since she reached up to fix the medal around your neck, in the simplest sweet of gestures.
Like you’ve wanted to since she stood there beaming and so full of love after you called her back just to dump confetti over her head behind the podium.
Like you’ve wanted to since the final whistle blew and you ran across the field straight into her embrace.
Like you’ve wanted to since she scored in the semi’s and raised her hands to the sky with that smile that lights up the world, and you settled for the briefest press of lips behind her ear, hidden by her hair because you just couldn’t help it.
Like you’ve wanted to before and after every training and game and every minute since you got to France.
You kiss her like you want to do this every day for the rest of your lives.
She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you in impossibly closer, and you feel it from the tips of your toes down to the very ends of your hair. You feel it in the deepest part of your soul and you think you might just combust from this happiness.
“We did it babe”.
And there’s that smile.