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It's all a bit of a misunderstanding. The first time that it happens.
When Jamie's standing, shivering outside of Dani's door in the middle of December, kicking snow from the welcome mat under his feet and cradling a crate of beers in gloved hands. He's bobbing a little on the spot to try and stay warm, and he's about to let out an impatient shout through the wood for Dani to get a move on, when the door finally swings open.
His nose is tipped red and there's a blush rising high up on his cheeks by the time it happens, but it's the sight of Dani on the other side, pale complexion, with bags under his eyes, wrapped up in a duvet, and frowning in confusion at the mancunian standing on his doorstep, that has Jamie slowing down his fidgeting to fully focus on the player opposite him.
"Jamie?" Dani's voice is barely audible, croaky and broken, and dampened by an obvious block in his sinuses that makes the starting letter of Jamie's name obsolete.
"The one and only." Jamie offers a half-smile to the bundled up player staring back at him, "Could'a let us know you were sick, mate. Doubt you want a house full've rowdy footballers to deal with. I mean, no offence or anythin', but you look like shit, man."
Only Dani continues to look across blankly at him, and after a few moments, Jamie wonders if the man's more sick than he'd first realised, if he should be worrying about calling an ambulance because his best mate’s going delirious right in front of his eyes, but he doesn't get another moment to really react to the brief panic before Dani finally blinks away his haziness and pulls together a dazed response.
"Movie night is at Colin's, amigo. I texted the group chat." Dani sounds somehow more bunged up than before when he says the words, and Jamie's the one with his brows tied together now as he takes in the sentence, eyes widening a little in realisation when he recalls muting the notifications on his phone just that morning, when he'd woken up half-way through an ongoing string of abuse firing in from his dad's number.
He digs the device from his pocket, tapping away quickly to arrive at Wattsapp, and seeing Dani's little icon grinning up at him, with the start of a message just visible underneath, "Sorry amigos, I am too sick for movie nigh...", and he cringes a little at himself for being stupid enough not to check before he'd come.
"Shit. Sorry, muchacho, I'll piss off and let you get some kip." Jamie buries his phone back in the pocket of his jeans as he shoots an apologetic smile up at the Mexican in front of him, turning back to the street, only to slow a little in his tracks as he looks to the icy state of the road ahead and realises that the Uber he'd arrived in is long gone, and it had been hard enough to get one booked in the first place.
It's in the middle of his mental arithmetic about how long it might take him to walk across town to Colin's in the onslaught of the heaviest snowstorm London's seen since Jamie first arrived here, that Dani's barely-there voice rings across from the doorway.
"Would you like to stay for a drink, amigo? Until the snow has stopped?"
Jamie turns back to the house with a bashful smile, hitching the beers up under one arm, and rubbing at the back of his head with his newly spare hand as he looks down at his feet.
"You sure, mate? Don't want to get in your way when you're already feelin' poorly-"
"Of course I am sure, Jamie Tartt. You'll end up just as sick as me if I leave you on my doorstep like a lost puppy, camarada." Even despite the breaking of his voice, and the sluggishness of his movements, Dani is smiling across at Jamie so warmly that the younger player swears he could melt the snow right off the path if he wanted to.
He jogs back to the door and into Dani's hallway, basking in the warmth of the home and shaking off residual shivers as he casts off the crate of alcohol to a nearby side table, and starts taking off the layers that he'd bundled himself up in. Dani, meanwhile, closes the door behind him, and tugs his own duvet a little tighter around himself, clearing his throat before starting to move back towards his living room.
"What would you like to drink, amigo?"
"Whatever you're on'll be fine, muchacho." Jamie's half shouting the response through to Dani while he toes off his shoes, taking the moment alone in the entryway to take in how, even living on his own, Dani's taken the time to decorate the place with Christmas decorations, the whole hallway covered in tiny, colourful paper stars, with a large, green wreath stretching along a large mirror hanging on the wall, and smiling to himself at the sight.
He's pulled from his admiration however, when the Mexican player's head is popping back around the corner of the doorframe, an unsure expression gracing his tired features.
"I am drinking Atole, compa. I am not sure if you will like it?"
Admittedly, Jamie's never even heard of the drink, but taking in Dani’s exhausted appearance, he can’t bring himself to make his teammate do any more work than he needs to, following Dani through to his living room overcome with the need to have the man relax again in the spot that Jamie’s pulled him from.
“Try anything once, me. Honest, Dani, it’s fine.” Jamie wonders for a moment if he’s being a little too severe in his attempt to be accommodating, but if he is, it doesn’t seem to bother Dani, who simply nods and ducks into his kitchen, emerging a couple of minutes later with a mug of the steaming drink, placing it down on the coffee table in front of where Jamie has perched himself on the couch.
The sickly player then takes a shaky step backwards, flopping himself onto the cushions beside Jamie and curling up on one side, box of tissues and the TV remote beside his head as it rests atop a pillow clearly carried down from his bedroom, and Jamie chuckles a little at the sight, offering a sympathetic smile as he lifts his mug from the table.
“You need anything, muchacho?”
Dani’s clearly depleted whatever energy he had left, only shaking his head no in response to Jamie’s uncharacteristically gentle question, and pressing play on the remote only for Love Actually to jump to life on the screen, barely twenty minutes in.
“Sorry, amigo. Movie night is less impressive when it is just me.” Every word sounds like it’s weighing Dani down a little heavier into the couch cushions, so Jamie shuffles up the space a little and gives the man’s shoulder a tiny, playful shove, offering him a teasing smile.
“Don’t be daft, man. Listen, don’t tell any of the lads, alright? But I’d rather watch a rom-com than their picks of Bond and Marvel anyday. My favourite film’s Matilda, for fucks sake. Goes on every time I need cheerin’ up.” To Jamie’s delight, Dani manages a small laugh at that, before the two settle into a peaceful quiet as they watch the film together.
Jamie’s sipping on the drink that Dani had offered him, and basking in the warmth that it fills him with, when he tucks his toes under one of the decorative cushions to keep them from any chill, and he breathes in the soothing scent of cinnamon and vanilla, and the whole thing reminds him of a home that he’s not known for a long time.
The calming atmosphere clearly has the same effect on Dani, who Jamie turns to notice has drifted off to sleep at some point, leaving him to finish the rest of the movie on his own.
And it occurs to Jamie, just before the credits begin to roll, that he’s not felt this settled in a while - As he watches the various couples and families and friends get their happy endings on the screen, and he’s half-asleep on his teammates’ couch with a happy sort of peacefulness keeping him calm and steady, whilst the other player in question has somehow ended up with one cheek pressed up against Jamie’s thigh as he huffs out slow breaths through his parted lips.
When the screen begins queuing up a second film at the end of the credits, Jamie glances out of the window and sees that the weather has calmed down, so he decides it’s probably high time for him to get out of Dani’s way, lightly tapping the players’ shoulder until his eyes blink open, dazed and confused, and he moves to sit up from his spot.
“Sorry, mate. Just thought I’d get out your hair. Sure you’ve had enough of keeping me company by now, after I bored you to sleep.” Jamie winks playfully at Dani as he reaches the end of the sentence, smiling through a layer of concern as he watches his teammate rub at tired eyes, looking entirely too lost as to why he’d been asleep on the mancunian only seconds earlier, and stitching a secondary addition onto the sentence to fill the extended silence when it’s clear that the Mexican striker needs another second to really wake up.
“Promise I’ll be better company next time for you, muchacho.”
“Te quiero tal cual y como eres.” Jamie blinks back at Dani when the string of unknown words falls from his lips, tiredly strung together and only half aware, but in a tone so genuine that Jamie feels something stir deep inside of him.
And there’s a fluttering in his stomach joining the sensation that he’s trying hard to ignore, as he thinks back to a scene in the film he’s just finished. The mixed-up confessions of a couple in love, whose words fail them as they try and fail to reach across a language barrier that’s too high for them to scale, and Jamie’s wondering despite himself whether Dani’s words could mean anything of the sort.
But he shakes himself from the image replaying in his head, offering an apologetic half-smile to the man across the couch.
“Sorry, I don’t… You feelin’ okay, Dani?” The question seems to finally dust off the last of Dani’s confusion, as he rubs at his eyes a final time and offers a weak smile back.
“Sorry, amigo. I think my bed is calling me. The words are… Harder to reach than usual?” The sentence is a little scrambled as Dani stumbles over the words, but Jamie nods in understanding and begins to stand from his comfortable little spot, Dani shuffling behind him back to the entryway.
“Don’t worry about it, muchacho. Couldn’t pull together a sentence in spanish if I wanted to, so you’ve already got me beat.” Jamie pauses for a moment to hear Dani’s quiet chuckle in response, willing the butterflies around his heart to settle down as he shrugs on his coat and tugs on his trainers, eyeing the box of beers and deciding to leave it in place, before he carries on.
“Thanks for savin’ me from the storm. Promise to repay the favour if you swear not to fall asleep in the middle of The Holiday, alright?”
Jamie lets the sound of Dani’s sarcastic, giggly response keep him warm as he makes the chilly walk home, expecting nothing else to come of the situation, until the following week, when it’s two days before Christmas, and Jamie’s stomach falls at the sound of a knock on his front door, sure that it’s his father come to haunt the holiday like something straight out of a Charles Dickens novel.
Only instead, it’s Dani standing there. Fully recovered, and wrapped up in a similar way to how Jamie had been, bottle of mulled wine and a bag of takeout hanging from his fingers, and a wide grin spread across his cheeks.
“You promised to repay the favour, no?”
And that’s how their little routine starts.
How somehow, once a fortnight, Jamie’s standing back at Dani’s door, with some imaginative drinks choice under his arm, and a forgotten little rom-com from years back queued up on Netflix, that they’ll inevitably end up talking about until way into the early hours.
And when it’s not Jamie at the entrance to Dani’s petite, cosy flat, it’s Dani, creative new food order that Jamie’s never heard of balanced in his hands, and sunny disposition warming up Jamie’s cold, too-big house as they share theories over who might end up together or what the outcome of the film might be, or memories of the first time they’d watched the story unfold, until Jamie’s making up the spare bedroom to accommodate his newly frequent visitor.
They keep the pattern up until Valentine’s Day rolls around in February.
When Jamie sits and listens to the team discuss their plans, and who they’ll be taking out for dinner, and which ludicrously priced place they’ll be treating their dates to, hanging on to Dani’s every movement and waiting for the man to confirm the end to their accidental arrangement through the casual announcement of some beautiful model he’ll be going out with this year.
Except no such story ever arrives, the conversation only petering off to a close, and the players beginning to filter out of the locker room one-by-one, until there’s only the pair of them remaining, Jamie taking longer than he should to pack up his bag as he cycles through the possible reasons for Dani’s lack of plans in his head.
“Are you okay, Jamie Tartt?” Jamie nearly jumps out of his skin when the question comes from somebody standing much closer to him than he’d realised, and he winces and lets a quiet, “Shit!” escape his mouth when he smacks the back of his head off the top shelf of his locker at the shock.
“Lo siento, amigo, I didn’t mean to scare you! Is your head okay?” There’s a hand that comes to rest on Jamie’s shoulder alongside Dani’s panicked speech, and Jamie finds himself smiling even despite the pulsing in his head.
“Uh.. ‘M fine, muchacho. S’not bleedin’ or nothing. Can y’grab me an ice pack though?” Dani doesn’t verbally reply, only nods frantically and runs through to the treatment room, returning barely thirty seconds later with an ice pack that he holds to the player’s scalp as he crouches in front of the benches where Jamie has sat himself down again.
“I am so sorry, mi amigo.”
“Dani, you’re fine, mate. My fault for daydreamin’.” Jamie raises his head a little to catch Dani’s eye and offer his teammate a reassuring smile, Dani returning the gesture nervously, until the two fall into quiet laughter, and Dani’s stature starts to relax a little.
“I was only going to ask what film you wanted to watch this weekend?” Jamie’s head shoots up again at the question, heart beating just a little faster, and hoping that the blush he can feel rising on his cheeks isn’t obvious enough for Dani to take note of.
“But- This weekend- It’s Valentine’s Day on Saturday, muchacho. Would’a thought you’ve got some hot date planned.” The Mexican player smiles again, and shakes his head no, and Jamie’s suddenly left wondering if the spinning in his head is the effects of Dani’s words, or the starting up of a simple concussion.
“Not this year, amigo. I think- I am looking for something more than I used to be. Someone more special? Not just… for the night?” There’s a lengthy pause after Dani says the words, delicate and clearly feeling safe in the isolated space, and Jamie can only think to nod along, not trusting his feelings if he were to look up and meet Dani’s eyes in the lingering silence of the intimate confession.
“Maybe all of the romantic movies we have been watching together, yes?” Jamie huffs out a shaky, half-there laugh, pulling himself together enough to shoot back a reply.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right, muchacho. Makin’ you all soft, aren’t they?”
Dani chuckles again, and the pair drift onto different conversation, Jamie thankful for the opportunity to calm the butterflies in his stomach when the other player begins to chatter on mindlessly about all sorts of things, and he only has to sit there and will himself not to ruin whatever this thing is that they’ve got going on.
And sure enough, just a few days later, when Valentine’s Day does roll around, Dani’s standing in Jamie’s doorway at 5pm, and the pair end up cross-legged on the floor with a meal from Dani’s favourite Mexican restaurant spread out in front of them on Jamie’s coffee table, the joyful tones of the first Mamma Mia! film ringing out from the television set in front of them.
Jamie’s leaning back against the sofa behind him, halfway through his third glass of wine, and trying to be subtle as he watches Dani from the corner of his eye.
How the older player is hooked on the film, mouth moving ever-so-slightly along to the words of the songs that are playing, eyes shining and warm grin spread across his cheeks as he watches scene after scene play out.
And Jamie’s blaming the alcohol they’ve had, and the fact that the pair have shared what turned out to be a Valentine’s meal for two, and the echo of Pierce Brosnan’s voice speaking about knowing when you’re in love, when the question tumbles somewhat unexpectedly from his lips.
“Have you ever been in love?”
It clearly takes Dani by surprise too, when he looks across to Jamie with raised eyebrows, taking a long few moments before he pulls together an answer.
“I think maybe I thought that I was in love? But I was young, and I’m happier in Richmond than I’ve ever been before, even in Guadalajara, so I don’t think that it was what I really needed? I suppose that is what growing up is all about, no? The not-really-knowing, but doing it all anyway. And my life is filled with love. More than I could have hoped for moving here.”
Jamie nods along with Dani’s explanation in the same way as he always does, when he’s not quite sure of how to respond to the man’s simple, and yet all too insightful answers. He takes note of the slight sadness in Dani’s eyes as he mentions his hometown, sparing a fleeting glance at the spread of food in front of them, one side of his mouth tugging up in a nostalgic smile.
And the mancunian wasn’t even sure of where inside of him the question had bubbled up from, but hearing Dani offer up an answer - seeing the man so comfortable around him, in his home, with nobody else for relief of company - his stomach is swirling again with those same feelings that he’s been trying to force back down since he’d first glanced across at Dani’s sleeping form on the sofa just two months earlier.
“How about you, amigo? Who has managed to capture the heart of Jamie Tartt?”
Jamie’s eyes linger on Dani’s slight, teasing smile for just a beat too long, the response that he wants to give dancing on the edge of his tongue - how he thinks that his heart might belong entirely to the one person sitting just ahead of him who he knows that he can’t have - before he shakes his head a little to reset himself, and swallows past a lump in his throat to offer up an alternative answer.
“Not me, muchacho.”
“Ahh, nobody good enough for perfection, ay, compa?” Dani’s chuckling again as he throws out the line and leans across to lightly shove at Jamie’s shoulder, and the younger striker works hard to ignore the sensation of his heart crumbling to pieces inside his chest as he winks and plasters on a winning smile in response to the joking.
It’s lighthearted enough that the conversation could be over and done with there, filtering away into silence until the end of the movie when Jamie can pretend that it had never happened in the first place as he sets Dani up in his guest room. But for whatever reason, he allows his smile to drop a little and he takes a shaky breath before continuing on.
“I’m not- Sometimes I’m not sure I really get it?”
“Get what, amigo?”
“Love. Not like, the way you’re meant to anyway? I dunno, ’s hard to explain.” Jamie’s already regretting saying anything, now that the rare surge of bravery that he’d had is fizzling away and leaving behind the sort of abject terror that only this level of vulnerability can offer.
He’s about to say as much to Dani.
About to back ungracingly out of the conversation, with a half-assed, “Doesn’t matter. Just being a twat about it, aren’t I?” before he’s spared of the chance, because Dani’s shuffling closer to him on the carpet until the two are almost touching, and the man’s face is encouraging Jamie to go on as he leans just a little closer and offers a supportive smile.
“Not sure I’ve ever really… Got what love’s meant to be? Not in a pathetic way, like. I’m fine with it. I just- Everyone else’s got someone they love, right? Like someone who’s just always meant the most to them, and they just know that that’s love. Like Roy’s got his niece. And Sam’s got his dad. And Ted’s got his kid. And Higgins has a whole fuckin’ family. And they just love each other, no questions asked. But I don’t think I’d even know who my person would be. Cause it’s just… me. Always has been. And I just- I don’t think I even understand what it’s meant to feel like.”
Jamie’s steeling himself against tears, muscles tensing where he’s sitting, arms hugging his knees to his chest, eyes locked on the television that seems to want to make everything worse as there’s a montage of mother and daughter unfolding there, wrapped up in each other’s arms and reminiscing about a long-gone childhood, and Jamie has to tear his eyes away eventually in a final attempt to keep it all together.
Dani clearly picks up on the upset, as Jamie finds himself with an arm settling around his shoulders for a few long, silent moments.
“There is a saying in Spanish, ‘No puede ser bueno aquél que nunca ha amado.’ It means to say that somebody who has never loved before cannot be a good person. I’m not sure if I agree completely but… If it is true, then you must have loved, no? Because you are the best person I know.”
Dani’s gentle grin is so genuine as he says the words that there’s a lump in Jamie’s throat that he’s not sure he can move past, except Dani continues on before he finds that he needs to.
“Maybe somebody else would disagree, Jamie Tartt. But to me, love is just feeling that you have come home. It’s… Knowing that you’re safe, even when maybe you have done something wrong. Knowing that there is always somebody that you can go to. And it doesn’t have to be just one person, amigo. Even though it’s nice if it is.”
Jamie recognises the feeling that Dani speaks of.
He’s seen it in the middle of a goal celebration with the team when he’s pulled into a nest of arms all tackling one another to be the first to hug him. He’s experienced it when he’s sitting around a dining table with Roy, Keeley and Phoebe, discussing each other’s days and talking about a match with his coach, and it should all feel weird but instead it just feels overwhelmingly right in a way he can’t explain. He’s felt it in quiet moments following a rousing speech by Ted in the locker room when there’s an air of togetherness in the space that Jamie’s only ever felt at Richmond.
And he’s had it coursing through his veins every other Saturday since the middle of December, when he tugs open a door and it’s Dani’s beaming expression that’s waiting for him on the other side.
So he coughs a little to disguise the sob that’s building in his throat, and he blinks back tears and nods yet again, sitting up a little straighter and uncurling from his self-made cocoon.
“Sounds nice, muchacho. Maybe I’ll get there one day, yeah?” Jamie can’t explain the anxiousness that’s creeping up on him now, as he carefully shakes off Dani from his shoulder and starts making a move to stand.
“Maybe you already have, amigo?”
Jamie can’t allow himself a second glance at the other player in the room, even following the words.
Not when he can feel the sweat that’s beading up in his palms, and his chest feels like it’s barely containing all of his heart inside anymore, and he’s rushing to busy himself with collecting up the dishes from the table so he can hurry through to the kitchen and pull himself together.
“Yeah.” The word comes out mostly as a laugh, and Jamie’s shaky fingers almost lose their grip around one of the empty wine bottles that he’s balancing alongside used plates and empty containers, “You want another drink, mate? I’ll bring one through, gimme a minute.”
He doesn’t offer Dani the chance to actually answer the question, and his escape from the room is fumbling and awkward, but it does the trick as by the time he re-emerges into the living room - breathing more steadily, and settled enough to clap his teammate on the shoulder as jovially as usual without the touch sending sparks through his fingertips - one of the final songs is playing in the movie, and Dani is back to humming along as he finishes off tidying up the centre table, smiling gently up at Jamie and making a simple comment about him missing Meryl Streep’s best moment.
So they’re just about able to carry on as usual.
With every other weekend that rolls around, Jamie gets a little better at not falling to pieces around the other striker, even as Dani seems to have a knack for choosing increasingly emotional picks whenever they’re back in the comforting homeliness of his apartment, where it’s somehow ten times harder for Jamie not to melt into the feeling of belonging that he’s started to find there.
It’s a few months later still, when really Jamie should have known that it’s all been going a little too smoothly, that Jamie’s father almost goes and ruins the whole fucking thing.
When Jamie doesn’t need to open up his front door to allow Dani into his home, because the wood around the lock is already splintered and rendered useless, and the rapping of the Mexican’s knuckles on one of the glass panes is enough to nudge the door open.
The move reveals Jamie, planted on the stairs, eye swollen and nose bloodied, one arm wrapped around his stomach while the other rises up in a vain attempt at protection when Dani’s first instinct is to rush over, and Jamie’s flinching away in reaction before he can help it.
“Jamie, amigo, it is only me, I am sorry. Can I help? Please?”
Dani’s voice is anxious and trembling, and his hands are cautious and careful as they reach out to settle on Jamie’s forearms, and the younger player can’t be sure of why, but the lightness of the touch is what manages to break him.
He’d managed to hold it all together as he’d waited for his father to get bored of his attack, even as it had stretched on for longer than Jamie had thought possible, longer than he’d thought his drunken father was even capable of remaining upright for. Had managed to stumble back through to the hallway to retrieve his phone when the older Tartt had finally given up and abandoned the property, only to discover that the smashed up device had been rendered totally unusable, so he’d settled on the stairs in waiting instead.
But one moment of the sensation of Dani’s barely-there touch on his skin has him sobbing before he even really begins to process it.
Dani’s face falls in front of Jamie’s eyes for a moment, and for a brief few seconds he’s overcome with the need to apologise to the man for being stupid enough to involve him in this mess of a life he’s made for himself, before he’s being pulled against a firm, comforting shoulder, bawling into the fabric there with hitching breaths that he’s barely managing to choke in any air through.
For somebody who is usually so keen to find all of the words to make everything better, Dani stays silent throughout the whole mortifying ordeal, just holding Jamie against him, kneeling awkwardly across two of the stairs that the younger boy is perched upon, strong arms providing a safety that Jamie can’t help but break down into.
And Dani doesn’t let go of Jamie again, careful hands always lingering, protecting against the air of threat that’s still echoing around the house, until he’s managed to settle the injured man on the sofa in the living room, when he leaves for just a moment to fetch a bowl of warm water and a towel, crouching in front of his teammate on his return and beginning to delicately clean the wounds on his face.
Jamie tries to calm himself down.
Tries to move past the shame that makes a heat rise in his cheeks and an uncomfortable heaviness settle in his stomach when, between tending to the impact of his father’s fists scattered across his cheeks, Dani uses the pads of his thumbs to delicately sweep away lingering tears, and the younger player finds himself leaning into the safety of the touch, closing his eyes against Dani’s reaction when another breathy sob escapes his lips.
“It is okay, amorcito. I’m here.”
Jamie’s not even sure of what the new endearment means, but it only succeeds in drawing another hitching breath from the depths of his chest when it falls so softly from the other man’s lips, and he’s leaning into Dani’s touch like it’s the only thing still tying him down to the earth.
He doesn’t notice that the elder player is done cleaning the wounds on his face until Dani’s standing again from his crouched spot on the ground, makeshift first aid supplies gathered up in his arms, and all of a sudden Jamie’s overcome with a wave of fear, reaching out to wrap a desperate hand around Dani’s wrist and looking up at the man with still-tearful eyes.
“Pl-Please don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere, amigo. Just moving these out of the way. Would never miss a movie night, sí?” Dani’s voice is cheerful as ever, although his expression betrays his efforts, as he offers Jamie only a half-shaky smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and he looks down at where the mancunian is latching onto him for dear life with his brows tugged up in a rare, upset frown.
Jamie can’t quite bring himself to be embarrassed, not even as he tentatively unhooks himself from Dani and allows the man to return to his kitchen, shoulders creeping up around his ears in rising tension until the Mexican is back in the room with him, lowering two mugs of tea onto the central coffee table, and settling into the couch cushions in their regular practised way.
He can’t remember them having decided on a film already, but Dani sweeps up Jamie’s television remote as the latter of the pair turns to retrieve the blanket that stays hooked over the back of his sofa for times like these, and by the time he’s bundled himself underneath it and locked watery eyes back on the screen across the space, it’s to an all-too familiar set of opening credits.
He swipes at his eyes with his sleeves as he hears the comforting first beat of the score to Matilda, and he looks across with slightly widened eyes at Dani who’s got another kind, understanding smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Y’remembered?”
“Of course I did.”
Dani’s answer comes simply, with such an ease and strong sincerity that Jamie has to turn away and lock his eyes on the screen again to conceal the sheen of tears there, and he listens to the twinkling of piano keys that roll into the first few lines of the film that reminds him of being four years old, snotty-nosed and off school for the day, wrapped up safely in his mother’s arms, and vaguely recognises that same secure feeling surrounding him now, allowing himself to begin to sink into it.
And when Jamie tries in earnest to disguise the roll of fresh teardrops down his cheeks as he watches the titular character stand up to her bullying father, with his own dad’s voice still echoing in his ears, “You’re a fuckin’ disappointment, Jamie!”, and the sting of his punches still throbbing in his cheeks, he feels the fingers of Dani’s hand loop in with his own.
The other player doesn’t say a thing as he glides one soothing thumb across the back of Jamie’s hand, so he keeps his eyes locked on the screen, even as he feels his heartbeat increase in speed, and he squeezes the hand in back and allows the sensation of Dani’s fingertips ghosting across his knuckles to begin healing some of the cracks in his soul that his father’s fists had left behind.
The take-out that Dani had brought with him ends up in the fridge, and the teas are only half-drunk when the film wraps to a close and Jamie reluctantly unwinds his hand from Dani’s own and announces his departure to bed.
He’s not sure why it surprises him, when instead of simply nodding and changing the channel to please himself, Dani trails up the stairs after Jamie.
And he lingers for just a moment too long in the hallway outside Jamie’s bedroom door, standing close enough that for one brief second their hands touch again, and Jamie feels those same familiar sparks making their way up his arm and to his heart.
He feels his breath catch as the pair do nothing but meet each other’s eyes in a pensive silence for what feels like a lifetime, too close and too far apart all at once, before Dani releases a trembling breath and nods just once, bidding the northerner goodnight with a quiet, “Buenas noches, amigo. Sleep well.”, ducking into the guest room and closing the door behind himself.
And Jamie takes the final step into his own room, watching through tearful eyes the way that his hands shake as he presses the door lightly to a close, trying to convince himself that the stinging from his cheek remains the work of his father’s fists, and not the freezing emptiness left behind in the wake of Dani’s warm breath feathering against the skin there.
The entire incident goes unmentioned again, even when the pair wake the following morning to share Dani’s abandoned meal offering for an early lunch, and in the light of the sun, across the too-long distance of Jamie’s breakfast bar, Dani’s eyes can’t help but cast worryingly over the bruising that’s now blossomed across Jamie’s swollen eye area.
It’s mostly dulled by the time that their next movie night rolls around, and by the one after that, Jamie’s healed enough that he can just about allow the memory to fade in amongst the mess of others in his head, and he locks them all away, not to be thought about again until the next time there’s a knock at his door that he’s not expecting, or the too-familiar text-tone lighting up his phone after a rough match.
It’s not until they’re sitting, bundled up beneath a single blanket together at the start of September, colder weather brewing again as they watch One Day together, that he even allows himself to linger on the memory of their looped together fingers, and the feel of Dani’s thumb casting comfortingly across the back of his own.
Because they’re watching the pair on screen, dancing around one another for years of their lives, barely-there touches in fleeting, shadowy moments, never quite being able to turn to one another and admit the truth of a lifetime’s worth of feelings.
And where the two teammates are sitting, both together at one end of Dani’s two-seater couch, half-asleep and each with a mug of rapidly-cooling cocoa off to one side of them on a petite side table, Jamie can feel his heart thudding inside of his chest.
He’d not really realised it before, until a scene plays out on the flatscreen in the corner of the room, one character’s finger gliding delicately up the spine of the other, hairs standing on edge at the sheer intimacy of the action, and Jamie feels every nerve in his body flip on it’s head when he becomes all-too aware of how Dani’s bare thigh is resting atop his own.
Where the older player’s shorts cut off, he can suddenly feel every sensation of Dani’s skin where it’s pressed up against him, and then it’s like he can’t stop realising how close the pair are, and how it seems as though every inch of him is suddenly glued to his best friend in a way that’s somehow familiar, and yet different to ever before.
Because where he’s crossed his legs to benefit from more of the blanket’s warmth, his feet are tucked up under Dani’s body in an extra layer of protection against the cold. And he’s leaning ever so slightly into the Mexican, who in turn has his fingers looped loosely around Jamie’s wrist, fingertips absent-mindedly grazing across the paths of the veins there, all the while Dani’s eyes remain locked solely on the screen ahead, unaware of the storm brewing up in the confines of Jamie’s mind.
He finds his muscles tensing before he can help it, overtaken by the overwhelming feeling of hurtling head-first away from the safety that he’s found in his newfound traditions with Dani, and into something else entirely instead.
Dani reacts to the show of discomfort by leaning in closer, and he loops an arm around the younger man’s back, brows knitting together in concern when he rests a careful hand on Jamie’s shoulder and squeezing tightly once, and all of a sudden there’s a bright array of fireworks that shatter the ice settling in around the mancunian’s heart, lighting in his stomach and shooting up through every nerve inside his body all at once.
“Are you okay, amigo? Is it the film, do you want me to turn it off?”
It’s with the concerned tone that clouds the words, that Jamie tunes into how his breathing is faster than it had been before, and he thinks he might suddenly be suffocating under the weight of the blanket, because he can feel his body temperature rising and tears beading in his eyes beyond his control.
The mention of the film has him searching out the screen in the room, trying to lock onto anything that might save him from the moment.
Might calm the battle of the elements happening inside him, or at the very least offer him an excuse for why they’re erupting out of him without choice, like he’s a soda can that’s been dropped on its head, unable to keep its content from bubbling up and out in the onslaught of the shock.
Except it only manages to make everything worse.
Because he blinks away the blur of tears to find one half of the destined couple gone. The other left behind, floundering and barely staying afloat in the face of a life without the only person on earth who seemed to make things bearable.
And out of nowhere, it’s not a film playing out in front of Jamie anymore.
It’s the thought of Dani no longer beside him in the training room every day. The image of team nights and game days without that beaming smile to light up a room and set Jamie’s heart aflame right with it. The idea of never bundling into the comfort of Dani’s arms again, of finding himself all alone in that same, distant way he’d allowed himself the illusion of thinking he’d outgrown.
And he realises with the weight of his heart as it drops like a rock through the pit of his stomach, that he’s absolutely fucked.
“Jamie? What is it amigo, please?”
Dani’s voice manages to cut through the panic in Jamie’s head for long enough that he frees himself from the confines of the blanket and stands on shaky legs, running a frantic hand over his forearms to rid himself of the lingering effects of the older player’s touch igniting on his skin.
“M fine, muchacho, just- Got extra training in the morning. Forgot it were on, s-so I can’t stay. Gotta go get some kip, haven’t I? Sorry mate. We’ll- Maybe another time. I dunno.”
He can’t calm himself enough to slow down his steps, to settle into a more ordinary pace with which to back up his tied together excuse as he hotfoots it across the living space and through into Dani’s hallway, just managing to feel the cool sheen of metal against his fingers as he reaches the door, before there’s a hand wrapping itself tightly around his other wrist.
Dani’s desperate eyes are the sight that meet him as he shoots his head around at the unexpected touch.
Searching Jamie’s expression for any hint of a reason for the hasty attempt at an exit, silently pleading with Jamie across the space, usual carefree demeanour far gone, replaced with a painful concern that only succeeds in making Jamie’s heart wrench further.
Because it’s supposed to be his best friend that’s standing ahead of him, but all he can focus on when Dani’s in such close proximity now is the tiny specks of gold spun into the hazel of his eyes, and the way the hairs around his face ever-so-slightly curl up in a way that makes Jamie want to reach out and twist his fingers through the petite ringlets.
And for a single, fleeting moment he allows himself a glance at Dani’s lips, full and pink and worrying under his teeth as he stares across at his frantic teammate, and his mind’s overrun by how he’s longing for nothing more than to lean forwards and press his own mouth against them in a kiss.
So he shakes himself a little, and tugs his arm free from Dani’s feather-soft grip, kicking his feet into his shoes and finally succeeding in pushing the door handle down and pulling it open, allowing the cold air from outside to further sober him from the dizzying effects of the man standing opposite.
“Jamie, wait-“
“See you at training, mate, alright?” Jamie slams the door shut behind him as he throws out the words, legs carrying him down the path as quickly as possible before Dani can open it again and catch him up, and just around the corner he manages to flag down a cab and bark out his address before he allows himself to even take another breath.
Only his heartbeat doesn’t settle even as he arrives back to the cold, empty expanse of his own home.
And it doesn’t calm even through the rest of the weekend, when he misses the quiet echo of Dani’s text tone echoing off the white-washed walls, and he longs for nothing more than to call the man and ask about his day, finding excuses to chat through every hour of the day until they’re both heading to bed and he knows he’ll see the player come the next morning.
Monday does roll around, in the end, much too slowly, and Jamie gets to Nelson Road earlier than usual, nervous energy pushing him through the doors in a bid to calm the racing of his pulse when he sees that the Mexican’s still there and okay.
He hopes that maybe he’d overreacted.
That the flurry of feelings he’d not been able to stamp down on Saturday had been the fault of their closeness, nothing more than the cosy warmth of the two together in a chilled off room, and that seeing his teammate again in the colourful normalcy of The Dog Track might once again manage to allow him to re-stabilise their friendship enough to carry on as though nothing had happened at all.
Except Dani arrives, seeking Jamie out immediately on his arrival, and Jamie can’t hang about for longer than a handful of seconds before he’s again stumbling through a washed-out excuse to get away, and trailing after Will out onto the pitch, excessively eager to help with the setting up of cones, moving at such a speed that he’s sure he leaves his heart still fluttering about in place behind him.
Because despite the too-long, lonely weekend, and every ounce of Jamie’s willpower stopping him from locking eyes with the elder player for even a second too long, he can’t stop the sick sort of swirling in his stomach, or cast his mind away from the urge to bury himself away in Dani’s arms and never emerge again.
So he decides, even as he finds himself gazing across the pitch at the raven-haired player where he’s stealing glances at Jamie between kick-ups with Sam, that the only solution is to distance himself from the man.
That the only way to save himself from losing Dani completely, is by leaving enough of a gap that perhaps his teammate won’t suspect a thing, and Jamie might become like any other member of the squad, happy to enjoy the brightening impact of the other striker’s ever-sunny energy from a safer distance where he’s posed less risk.
And he thinks he’s managing it fine.
When further into the winter months, Jamie’s only interactions with Dani are the way their hands skim over one another in the centre of the team’s pre-match rituals, and the memories of Saturday movie nights, bundled up in the comfort of each other’s presence, are fading fast, replaced with awkward smiles and messy blunders in conversations across the locker room’s grand expanse.
And he works hard to turn a blind eye to how, with every silent, stiff-necked nod in lieu of a strong-armed hug, Dani’s falsified smiles grow a little less sincere.
Tries to keep the pieces of his heart all glued together when, as they start trotting out onto pitches crisp with frost, and he’s clinging onto feeling in the tips of his fingers and toes, Dani’s the one to stop approaching him with the offer of warming up together, standing in the opposite corner of the box instead and participating half-heartedly in Colin and Isaac’s little routine.
The frost doesn’t stay out on the pitch either, when even on nights that Jamie would have spent alone anyway, the tiny icon of Dani’s happy grin sinks lower in the sea of his recent contacts, messages once sent in enamoured curiosity now instead sparing, and occurring only from necessity.
But it’s what’s best for the team.
What’s best for Dani.
What Jamie’s convinced himself is the only way to survive the crushing weight of the onslaught of his feelings, even when each extra inch of distance between the pair feels like another ten-tonne brick being added to the rubble.
So he is.
He’s managing it fine.
Until he’s flicking through the channels on his television at almost midnight in early December.
And he lands on the movie without much thought, tired eyes not even really focussing in, until he hears a softly spoken sentence in a language that he doesn’t quite understand.
“É a parte mais triste do meu dia, deixar você.”
He blinks the fog from his eyes just fast enough to catch a glance at the subtitles for the scene.
”It’s the saddest part of my day, leaving you.”
He watches the fumbling exchange of lingering gazes and space begging to be filled, between two characters so close and yet still great distances apart. And he’s straight back on that sofa, almost a whole year ago, with Dani’s feverish cheek up against his thigh, drinking in the sensation of home as he sips from a mug of the man’s homemade comfort brew, and feeling truly safe for the first time in his memory, watching the same scene play out and allowing himself one sparing glance at the sleeping player in his lap, willing himself not to think about the beautiful domesticity of it all.
And he can’t tear his eyes away from watching the film as it continues.
Watching more of the fleeting moments of romance wind together on the screen, and with each and every one, even in the cushion of his too-large couch as he sits there all alone, he feels the ghosts of tender touches across his skin, and through the tears welling up in his eyes, he swears he can see Dani’s bashful smile in every frame that flicks by.
He barely hiccups down a sob as he hears the words.
“Particularly because - (if you can’t say it at Christmas, when can you, eh?) - I’m actually yours.”
The single string of Christmas lights that he’d hung across the mantelpiece in his living room turns to a distant show of stars through the blurring of moisture in his eyes, and he’s thinking of Dani’s lovingly decorated home, each corner adorned with some flourishing memory or colourful show of passion for a life well-loved, and he realises with all the force of being hit by a speeding truck that he just can’t do it anymore.
Can’t keep himself separate from the only place, with the only person, he’s ever felt truly safe.
The only thing that prevents him from stumbling straight out of the door of his home, socked feet in the snow and still in his pyjamas, is the image of the scene that begins to unfold in front of his eyes.
Of the stumbling declaration of love in a newly-learned, barely strung-together language.
And with his heart doing somersaults in his chest, he abandons the thought of sleep, frantically tugging his phone from his pocket instead, and tapping away at the screen with his thumbs until he finds exactly what he’s been looking for.
There’s no training the following day, as he sips at refill after refill of steaming hot coffee, headphones firmly atop his head to avoid distraction, rubbing absent-mindedly at his squinting eyes with two balled-up fists, trying to knot together the sentences ahead of him in a way that makes sense in the slowly-fraying wires of his strung-out, exhausted brain.
His hands are still trembling with the effects of the caffeine when, long after the sun has set in the sky, and he can hear the blood rushing around inside his head at such a speed that he doesn’t think he’d be able to sleep if he wanted to, he uses the final 6% charge that his phone has managed to cling onto to book himself an Uber.
And he doesn’t stop to think about what he’s about to do until he’s back on Dani’s doorstep, on the familiar threadbare welcome mat, and his hand is rapping against the wood of the door faster than he can move to pause in the action.
He only stops to consider the panic that’s churning through his veins as he stands there, waiting for the sound of the latch sliding open, and his heart is climbing up into his throat in some last ditch effort to escape the situation.
It suddenly seems to freeze in place however, when the door does swing open, and Dani’s curious face greets him on the other side.
“Jamie?”
He feels the thud of the organ in his chest as he tries to breathe through the a sudden wave of terror, gazing into those warm eyes, creased up around the edges as they try to read into Jamie’s wavering expression.
“Are you okay, amigo?... Would you like to come in?”
The invite manages to shake him from his stupor, as he’s reminded of the reason he’s here.
Reminded of how Dani’s so filled with love and care for others, that even after the months of stretched-out silences and abandoned films, planned to watch in giggly fits of excitement that had never come to fruition, he’s still wringing his hands nervously and stepping slightly to the side to welcome the younger player back into his home in a potential time of need.
“Hola, muchacho. I- Uh- I wanted to, uh, tell y’sommet.”
He’s already in need of the shaky, gasping breath that forces its way out of him, and Dani’s eyebrows pull together in concern, the player stepping just outside the threshold of the doorway, socked feet fidgeting uncomfortably on the fabric of the prickly outdoor mat, and Jamie works through the stuttering of his own pulse as he jumps in again before Dani can manage to interrupt the flow of anxious adrenaline that’s fuelling him through the moment.
“I’ve been- This might be shit but- Fuck it. I- Dani Rojas.”
He closes his eyes again, clearing his throat and clenching trembling hands into tight, balled up fists at his sides.
“Dani, I- Haces poco meses- I-I told you a while back, I mean- That I didn’t get- Como se suponía que se sentía el amor- That I never thought I’d known it right? Love? And I didn’t think I ever would but- B-But me enamoro mil veces al dia, and I couldn’t deal with it before right but it’s just always fuckin’ been you.”
Jamie risks a brief glance upwards, and he tries with another steadying breath to stop his heart from dropping straight through the bottom of his chest when he finds a look of pure bewilderment on Dani’s face in response to the barely pieced together chunks of language that Jamie's trying to merge.
“Listen, I- I-I thought this’d be dead romantic, didn’t I? Tried to learn the spanish phrases and shit, and I’m just fuckin’ it all up but I-”
He closes his eyes, hitching in the deepest breath he can muster through his nose, filing through every corner of his mind for the most important phrase he’d tried to memorise for what was supposed to be his grand declaration.
“I just- I think I fuckin’ love you, Dani. Properly love you. With all of my heart, like. With bits of it I didn’t even know fuckin’ existed. Te amo más que nada en el mundo, muchacho.”
There’s a too-long beat of silence.
Jamie can feel the pooling of sweat in the centre of his curled up fists, tugging with franting fingers at the edging of the sleeves of his hoodie, fingers toying with a thread that he finds there, and he’s about to force out another strained addition to the twisted, panicked ramble when it happens.
When there's suddenly the sensation of careful fingers cupping his fidgeting hands, and he doesn't get a moment to even blink open his eyes in reaction when they're followed by soft lips pressed up against his own.
And he'd thought he'd felt fireworks before, flying up and about in the rushing blood of his veins when the gentle touch of Dani's skin had brushed up against his own, but they're bursting with a thousand new colours behind his eyes now, when one of the opposite striker's hands moves to cup his face, and he deepens the kiss with enough force that Jamie thinks he might end up melting right there and then on Dani's front porch.
The lingering sparks don't fizzle out even after the pair have pulled apart.
Still dancing across Jamie's lips, and up into the curve of his cheeks where they meet with the delicate pads of Dani's thumbs and manage to flicker down to a comforting warmth, as his eyes meet with the elder player's own, noses still overlapping, faces inches from each other, and he finds nothing but a look of sheer adoration mirrored back.
"Te amo, Jamie Tartt. Estoy enloquecido por ti. Eres mi todo, mi vida. Te amo."
Jamie can't help the tears in his eyes again, as he captures Dani's lips in another stolen kiss, before he replies with a half-hiccuping reply, unable to contain the giggle that emerges alongside it as he does so.
"Y'gonna have to teach me what all that means, mi amor. But I'm assuming it means I've got a date for tonight?"
There's the flash of the grin he's missed so dearly. The weight of Dani's arms as they wrap around his back. The warming presence of a string of kisses up his neck as the first flecks of snow begin to fall from white clouds far above them, catching in the flutter of Dani's eyelashes and on the pinked-up tip of Jamie's nose.
"Always, mi vida."
Dani's voice is soft as ever as he steps back towards the door, fingers twisting in with Jamie's, lightly tugging in his direction, away from the cold of a world beyond the tiny home.
And together, at last. They head inside.