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Summary
"The enemy," Erling repeated, clearly bemused. “I didn’t know we were at war with each other.”
Jude looked up at him, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know what I mean. They’re dramatic as hell, I’d rather not have to deal with the headache.”
Jude reached out, his fingers brushing against the hem of Erling's shirt. Erling's hand shot out, gripping the back of Jude's neck. It wasn't a violent gesture, but it was possessive, his large palm covering nearly the entire nape of Jude's neck, fingers digging slightly into the muscle. He pulled Jude closer, their chests colliding.
"If being caught visiting me would be such a headache," Erling whispered, his breath warm. “Then why beg to see me in the first place?”
———
The night before England v Norway, Jude visits a certain somebody he hasn’t seen in weeks.