Work Text:
Sunday, September 13, 2020
Laura spent the morning helping Joe muck out stalls in the barn before going to repair a section of fence in the south pasture. It was a little after noon when she let herself into the screened back porch where she pulled off her boots and hung her hat on its peg next to Bradley’s before going through the French doors into their bedroom.
After breakfast, she’d left Bradley to work on a story about the continued rise in anti-LGBTQ legislation in states all across the country. Bradley was hoping to develop it into a series of pieces for TMS and she was collecting potential sources for interviews with state legislators and medical and psychological professionals, as well as those in the LGBTQIA+ community who would be most deeply hurt by these proposed laws. Laura knew Bradley had put a lot of pressure on herself to get the story right, and though they had been publicly out as a couple since April, at Bradley’s suggestion, the younger woman still occasionally had difficulty allowing that part of herself to be so much in the public eye.
But with Laura’s quiet encouragement and unwavering support, Bradley had pitched her idea to Mia, who loved it, and Laura could see that she had grown more confident and sure of herself the further she delved into her research. Bradley was nothing if not passionate about helping give voice to those who were marginalized or underserved, and Laura felt sure that with time and a little patience, she’d move beyond TMS and onto the bigger things Laura had always told her she was destined for.
As she moved toward the bathroom for a much needed shower, Laura could hear the muffled sound of televised announcer voices coming from the living room and wondered what Bradley had found to watch on a Sunday afternoon…
* * * * *
Bradley pushed her fingers into her hair in annoyance and leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh. She knew things were bad but the more she dug into the history of anti-LGBTQ legislation, the more angry and frustrated she grew, as it seemed with each passing year things only got worse.
She heard the water turn off and knew Laura would be out soon, so she decided to distract herself by making them both a cup of tea.
When Laura emerged fresh from her shower, damp hair already springing up into those natural curls Bradley loved to twirl around her fingers, Bradley smiled and felt her shoulders relax as she pushed her MacBook closed.
“Before I forget to tell you, I got the travel details for our trip to New York at the end of October—I’ll put it all on our calendar later.”
“That’s good,” Laura said, stepping around to her usual position on the couch to Bradley’s left and accepting a mug of peppermint tea with a smile. She noticed the football game on the TV and found it a curious choice. Rather than questioning that, she nodded at Bradley’s laptop and asked, “How’s it going?”
“Exactly how you’d expect,” Bradley grumbled, the smile slipping from her face.
“It’s very frustrating.”
“It’s maddening! And looking at the potential impact of these laws for years to come, and what all of this is going to do to queer kids in this country… I’m just… trying to focus my anger into something productive, because I know it doesn’t do any good to just be angry.”
Laura hummed. “You’re right about that. And this series you’re working on is going to be great, in no small part because of how passionate you are about this.”
Bradley bit her lip and went quiet for a moment. The sound of shrill whistles, deep shouts, and scattered cheering came from the TV. Finally Bradley said, “I think about those kids who will grow up thinking they can’t be themselves, that it’s not right or okay for them to love who they love, and I just… I know what that feels like, and my heart breaks for them.”
“I get it.” Laura took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
“I know you do.” Bradley smiled sadly at her.
“Why don’t you take a break,” Laura said, taking the laptop from her and putting it on the coffee table, along with both of their mugs, “and tell me why you’re watching football of all things.”
Bradley laughed and shifted closer until they were shoulder to shoulder.
“It’s rare that I actually watch a game start to finish, but it’s good background noise.”
“Hmm, I think I can understand that.” Laura watched and listened for a moment and then said, “It sounds like a huge crowd. Are they taking any pandemic precautions?”
“It’s recorded crowd noise,” Bradley said with a grin. “There isn’t anyone in the stands—look.” Just then the camera cut to a wider shot of the stadium, which was almost eerily empty.
“Okay, that’s… actually very cool,” Laura said.
“Yeah, I mean, I’m sure there are a bunch of super fans out there who aren’t happy but at least they’re still playing games.”
“How long has this been good background noise for you?”
“Well, during my last year of college, my roommate always had the college games playing on Saturdays and the pro games on Sundays, and I somehow found that it was perfect for when I needed to focus on something for a class.” Bradley laughed a little and added, “Some of our friends nicknamed her ‘First Down,’ which I thought was funny because I knew she wasn’t really that big of a football fan. She didn’t even like to go to the games in person, just have them on the TV. I kinda think she liked it mostly for background noise too, because she was almost always reading a book rather than watching whatever game was on. And she never really cared who won.”
Bradley smiled at the memory of herself on one end of the couch, surrounded by notebooks and papers and pens and highlighters, and Katie, an English major, curled at the opposite end with her nose in a book, occasionally looking up at the TV to watch a replay or mutter something disparaging about a bad call.
“Do you care who wins?”
“Not really, just as long as Tom Brady loses.” Bradley grinned and Laura chuckled.
“Okay I might not know a lot about the game, but I do understand and appreciate that.”
The info at the bottom of the screen showed “2ND DOWN” before rolling over to “2ND & 6” as the players gathered in a huddle.
“So that just said second down, which means the… play?” Bradley nodded and Laura continued, “The play before that was first down.”
“Right,” Bradley said. “And they get four downs to move the ball ten yards. See the hash marks on the field? And the solid lines all the way across are at five yard intervals. So they started at first and ten and ran a rushing play to gain four yards, which is why now we’re at second and six.”
They watched as the quarterback took the snap and fell back, quickly finding his target and firing across the field. The receiver was knocked to the ground before he could catch the ball and immediately popped up and stood with his hands out, looking around like he expected something.
“Oh come on!” Bradley said. “That was obviously pass interference, what the fuck are the refs even looking at?!”
“Oh wow,” Laura said, leaning a little away in mock surprise at this outburst. “Who have I been living with all these months?” She laughed and Bradley shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Really though, look at this replay. The defender didn’t even turn around to look for the ball. He’s all over the receiver, who didn’t stand a chance to catch that pass, even though it was thrown right on the money.”
Laura watched and understood what Bradley was saying. “But the refs didn’t call it.”
“Nope.” Bradley shrugged. “But if they had, it would’ve been a penalty at the spot of the foul, which would’ve put them at another first down.”
“And so they’d have four tries to move another ten yards again.”
“Right, but instead, now they’re at third and six.”
“What happens if they don’t make it on fourth down?”
“Well, then it would be the other team’s ball from wherever the fourth down started. That’s called turning it over on downs, but usually they kick it away on fourth down to put the other team farther from the goal.” Bradley started to say more, about when a team might go for it on fourth down, when they’d settle for a field goal if close enough, why they often just punt it away, but instead she said, “I mean, that’s pretty basic, there’s more strategy to it sometimes, but… yeah.”
She blushed as she glanced at Laura, who was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and—
“You like the game for more than just background noise.” Laura’s smile was soft and her expression was full of fondness, but Bradley once again shrugged.
“I mean, it’s just…” She went quiet and once more leaned her shoulder against Laura’s. They watched in silence as one team punted the ball and an opposing receiver waved one arm high above his helmet before making the catch and coming to a halt.
“Why didn’t he run?” Laura asked.
“He signaled for a fair catch,” Bradley explained. “So the other team wasn’t allowed to tackle him but he also couldn’t move the ball any farther, and the next play starts at that spot.”
Laura nodded and they watched the players all line up for first down. After a receiver caught the ball some 20 yards out and was then roughly tackled to the ground, Laura cringed.
“These guys must be constantly bruised.”
Bradley laughed a little and shook her head. “They all learn how to tackle a certain way, and there are penalties for dirty tackles. They know how to take a tackle too—see how he rolls over his shoulder?” She pointed as they watched the slow-motion replay. “And then they all just pop back up, ready to go again!” She glanced at Laura who seemed skeptical, so Bradley added, “You know how to take a tackle!”
With a playful giggle, she pushed Laura sideways until she was sprawled on her back laughing as Bradley pinned her to the cushions.
“Yes, but this couch and our bed are much softer than that turf.” Laura squeezed her hips and added, “And you’re a lot easier to take than a 200-pound cornerback.”
Bradley smiled as she kissed Laura and then said, “You know what else having football on the TV is good for?”
Laura tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in question. She was surprised when Bradley shifted her to her side and then turned so her back was to Laura’s front and they both faced the TV. The brunette curled one arm beneath the pillow at their heads and draped the other over Bradley’s waist.
“Lazy Sunday afternoon naps,” Bradley said with a contented sigh.
Laura smiled and kissed her hair and was glad to feel Bradley relax against her even more. Bradley’s earlier tension and frustration with the world seemed forgotten for the moment, and Laura was happy to spend the remainder of the afternoon doing whatever made her woman happy.
After a few minutes, Bradley spoke again.
“You know I don’t have a lot of good memories of growing up.” Her voice was soft, tentative, and Laura simply hummed in acknowledgement and then laced their fingers together, resting close to Bradley’s heart. “It seemed like the house was always either too quiet or too loud,” Bradley went on, “and things could change without warning.”
She sighed and Laura squeezed her hand reassuringly. From the TV, the recorded crowd noise went up a notch as a receiver ran the ball in for a touchdown.
“But I remember sometimes we’d watch games,” Bradley said, “in the years before… all the drinking, before things got so bad… my dad was actually happy, sometimes. And he’d explain the game to Hal and me and we’d all cheer whenever someone made a good play. It was the only time when the house being too loud felt like a good thing. I liked the sound of all of us then, talking and laughing and just… being together without a fight.”
When it became apparent she wasn’t going to say anything more, Laura said, “Thank you for telling me that.” After a moment she added, “And for explaining the game to me. I think I could become a football fan,” her voice took on a teasing lilt, “especially if it means regular Sunday afternoon naps with you.”
Bradley giggled and finally turned her head to meet Laura’s eyes. Laura leaned over and kissed her lightly before they both faced the TV once more and settled against each other.
“Thank you,” Bradley said, and Laura wasn’t sure what for until she added, “for putting up with me.”
“Putting up with you?”
“Well, I just… I know this interest sorta came out of left field—”
“Wait, that’s a baseball metaphor,” Laura cut in. “Are you a secret baseball fan too?”
Bradley laughed. “No, not unless you count A League of Their Own—I love that movie!”
“It’s a good one,” Laura agreed. "Geena Davis is really something."
“Anyway,” Bradley went on, “I just mean this is one of those weird things I could probably talk about a lot and I don’t want to bore you or whatever, so… I guess I’m really trying to say thanks for asking—for being interested.”
Laura considered that for a moment. “Honey, I’m always interested in you, in what you have to say. It’s fun to see you excited about something. So I could listen to you talk about penalties and touchbacks and special teams’ strategies and whatever else all day.”
The blonde furrowed her brow and tilted her head once more as she glanced from Laura to the TV and back again.
“Wait… I didn’t say anything about touchbacks or special teams… how do you…”
Laura pursed her lips to hold back a smile as Bradley’s mouth opened in surprise.
“You do know how the game is played!”
“I might know a little,” Laura said with a casual shrug.
Bradley hummed and rolled to face the TV again. She smiled softly to herself and, since their fingers were still laced together, pulled Laura’s hand closer to her heart.
“I love you,” Bradley said.
“I love you, too.”