Chapter Text
Jude had always been distinctly aware of the type of attention Erling’s career entailed.
He’d never been naive or delusional about the amount of time Erling consistently spent away from home, nor was he idiotic enough to believe he’d be the only person to ever notice Erling’s good-looks and charm. He was used to fans, both football and Erling Haaland groupies alike, clamoring for anything they could get from Haaland—any insight into him that wasn’t simply Erling Haaland, Professional Footballer. And Jude knew Erling, too. He knew that Erling was far too nice to refuse to sign autographs when he was bombarded with fans, or take an innumerable number of photos even after grueling practices and hard fought games. This was the life Jude had chosen when he’d chosen to be with Erling. And really, he was fine with that. Truly.
At least, he thought he was until he’d opened his phone that morning and scrolled Instagram, seeing pictures of himself plastered all over the app like people were getting paid for every post. There was a cornucopia of photos of Jude at Erling’s most recent Manchester City match with their son Emil sitting in Jude’s lap, his large bucket hat shielding his face and protecting his privacy. The photos were not what bothered Jude, though the ubiquity of them left a lot to be desired. How many different angles could there possibly be of him sitting down?
No, what did bother Jude were the captions. They all, more or less, read the same: Erling Haaland’s elusive WAG shows his face with their adorable baby.
First of all, Jude was not elusive. At least not intentionally so. The fact of the matter was that not only did Jude have his own life and career, he also had a child to raise. And he was determined to raise Emil out of the spotlight. He never wanted his child to be the sort who was on the cover of trashy tabloid magazines and was the source of endless internet discourse simply because Erling was a famous footballer. And Erling agreed with him. Just because Erling had chosen a life of fame and nonstop attention—through no fault of his own, really; Erling was just really fucking good at football and the whole world took notice—didn’t mean that everyone else in his life had chosen the same. And Erling also didn’t want their son to be used as fodder for whatever negative thing the media, or hateful football fans, had to say about him.
Secondly, Jude was not a WAG. According to the Google search he’d done 2 seconds after reading the caption and scrunching his nose up in confusion, a WAG was the wife or girlfriend of a professional athlete, and Jude was very decisively not a woman. And what a degrading term, he’d thought. Narrowing a woman’s entire existence, and her support of her romantic partner, down to merely being a hanger-on whose entire identity revolved around whichever man she was with. Jude’s mother would be so proud of how good of a feminist he was being.
The only thing the caption had gotten correct was the fact that Emil was, indeed, adorable, though Jude didn’t know how they could have made that determination considering most of the boy’s face was blocked by his hat.
Jude, despite his better judgment, clicked on the comments of one of the posts and was immediately inundated with heart emojis as well as comments the likes of: “oh my god Haaland got himself a hottie”
“why has Haaland been keeping his husband hostage in the house all this time??? was he afraid everyone would think his husband deserved better?”
“adorable baby? YOU CANT EVEN SEE THE KIDS FACE. that kid could be butt ugly for all we know. it wouldn’t surprise me if he was. one of his dads looks like the abominable snowman”
“his other dad is hot tho so hopefully he got the pretty genes” (this was a reply to the abominable snowman comment)
Jude quickly locked his phone screen and decided he didn’t want to read anymore comments.
This was why Jude largely avoided the limelight that Erling’s career encompassed. People were mean and cruel and overly judgmental as though the people they were talking about weren’t even people at all. As though they didn’t have loved ones who cared for them and saw the nasty, awful things everyone said. Plus, with his line of work, discretion was key. He couldn’t risk paparazzi following him to his job and harassing a bunch of schoolchildren just because one of their teachers happened to be married to a famous footballer. Though, with the amount of attention the photos were now getting, Jude wasn’t sure he would be able to discreetly go back to his day job.
Fuck.
His phone buzzed and the screen lit up, revealing his brother’s name and contact photo filling the screen. Jude accepted the call, though his phone still sat by his side on the couch. He rubbed his hands over his face, already exhausted with a day that had just begun.
“Have you gone online today?” Jobe spoke after a second of silence. Jude nodded, then remembered that his brother couldn’t see him, so he said, “I was just on Instagram, so I think I know what this conversation is about.”
“Mate,” Jobe said, dragging the word out, “you’re everywhere. They’ve got you in 4K. They’ve got the kid, too.”
“Yeah, I know, Jobe. I saw it,” Jude retorted. His brother was saying this as if it was novel information. “Thank fuck they didn’t catch his face. Did you see that people are speculating if he’s ugly or not? For god’s sake, he’s four years old! What kind of fucked up person says that about a child?”
“Yeah, it’s fucked,” Jobe agreed. “Have you spoken to Erling yet? What’s he saying?”
As Jobe spoke, Jude received a barrage of messages from the teachers’ group chat, each one more dramatic than the last. Jude groaned. He really, really did not want to have the “you’re married to world famous footballer Erling Haaland and you never told us???” conversation with his colleagues right now. Or ever, really.
“No, I haven’t spoken to Erling yet. He’s either still asleep or in training right now,” Jude replied, shrugging to himself. He didn’t even know what they could even do in this situation.
It wasn’t like Jude and Erling had been explicitly hiding their relationship. Whenever Erling was asked about his romantic partners, he always remarked that was married, but he kept it to that. He never gave any names or descriptions—hell, Erling didn’t even wear his wedding ring when he wasn’t with Jude and their family. And not because he didn’t want to; it was just that with a job like football, Erling was always on the move. If he’d lost his wedding ring somewhere in the thick of all the madness, he’d never forgive himself for it.
“So,” Jobe dragged the word out again. That seemed to be his thing today. “Now that you’re both officially public, can I finally tell people that Erling Haaland is my brother-in-law?” Jude didn’t have to see his brother’s face to know that Jobe was doing his puppy dog begging face thing he always did when he wanted something. “I’ve been sitting on this secret forever. Do you know how much it’s been killing me to stay silent all these years? Think of me, Jude. Please.”
Jude knew his brother was mostly joking and just trying to make the situation seem more humorous and less stressful.
“Do whatever you want,” Jude said with his head leaned back against the sofa cushions. “It’s pointless to tell you not to now.”
“Good lad,” Jobe joked. “I can’t believe you’re a bloody WAG. How modern of you.”
Jude groaned again.
“Don’t use that ridiculous term on me. Just because I’m married to a footballer doesn’t mean I’m a WAG.”
“Are you going to become an Instagram influencer now?” Jobe inquired, this time only half-joking. “I’m sure your popularity would shoot up if you did. There’s a whole bunch of people who follow WAG culture and stuff. And yes, Jude, it’s a whole culture. Yacht parties, brand deals, sponsorships. It’s a whole thing.”
“You seem to know a lot about them for a term you just found out about today,” Jude interrogated his brother, only to be met with a laugh.
“Mate, I did not just learn about WAGs today. I’ve been doing my research since you and Haaland started dating.”
Jude grabbed his phone off the sofa and narrowed his eyes at his brother, though Jobe couldn’t see it.
“You’ve been looking up WAG culture since Erling and I were dating?!” He was incredulous. Was everyone already aware of this ridiculous lifestyle but him?
“Yes,” replied Jobe as though Jude had just asked him if 2+2 equaled 4. “Just because you avoid media attention doesn’t mean everyone else is the same. There are lots of people out there who are fully utilizing all of their assets.”
Jude snorted. His brother made the whole thing sound like a mere business plan.
“I’m serious, Jude. There’s real money to be made from your relationship with Erling. You’re leaving money on the table.”
“I’m not exploiting my marriage just to make a few extra quid. Besides, I already have a job that I enjoy, thank you very much.”
“It’s not exploitation,” Jobe corrected. “It’s innovation. And Jude, we all know you love being a teacher. Really, it’s a noble path. But let’s be honest here.” At this, Jude could sense his brother’s facial expression getting more intense. “If it weren’t for Erling being a footballer, and a damn good one, at that, you wouldn’t be able to afford the lifestyle you have. You wouldn’t be able to afford the house or Emil’s enrichment activities. When was the last time you even looked at a mortgage payment?”
Jude thought about it for a moment and realized, to his surprise, he couldn’t remember. Come to think of it, he had never looked at a bill for anything. Erling had all of their bills on automatic payment. That was when he’d realized, yet again, that ever since he and Erling became serious about their relationship, Jude had simply gotten comfortable. Too comfortable. He still kept his job, of course, not only because he genuinely enjoyed it, but also because he’d wanted some semblance of independence and equality in the relationship. Even if it meant that the most his money went toward was buying groceries for dinner, or buying whatever toys Emil saw and wanted.
It wasn’t as though Erling minded. He’d never once complained about any of it. In fact, he encouraged it. He wanted Jude to send their son to the most expensive activities to enrich his mind. He wanted Emil to be involved in sports clubs that cost £1,000 just to be on the waitlist. He wanted Jude to buy the prissy sofa cushions and the 3,000 thread count sheets and whatever it was that made Jude happy. And, in fact, if Jude hadn’t argued so intensely against it, Erling would have insisted Emil attend one of those expensive as fuck posh private schools where everyone looked down their noses at anyone who was working class.
Jude, without meaning to, had become a kept man. A trophy husband, so to speak. What right did he have to look down upon WAG culture when those women were, apparently, more independent than he was?
“Anyway,” Jobe continued, interrupting Jude’s thought process and grounding him back to the conversation at hand. “You live a life that many would kill to have. No judgment. Obviously, I enjoy the perks, too, as your brother.” Jude was sure he could hear the smile on Jobe’s face as he said that specific statement. He rolled his eyes. “But let’s be honest with ourselves here, Jude. You don’t live the life of a regular schoolteacher. The money you make as a teacher is pocket change compared to Erling’s income. You could buy some candy floss with it, but that’s about it.” Jobe shrugged, though it was a movement Jude couldn’t see from his end of the line.
“But!” Jobe continued, obviously deciding he had yet to make whatever point he was attempting to make. “If you capitalize on your assets, you’ll be able to make much more than that. Maybe not as much as Erling, but definitely more than a schoolteacher. You could even incorporate being a teacher into it. Get creative! I’m just saying, Jude, there’s a market with this WAG stuff that you need to tap into.”
“Are you finally finished with your business proposal?” Jude asked sarcastically.
“It’s definitely a thought you should consider, is all I’m saying.”
“And while I’m busy playing Instagram influencer, who will take care of my child, Jobe?” Jude countered. “I hope you don’t think I’d expose him to the likes of Instagram. Hideous troll creatures, all of those people are.”
“You don’t have to post him online. There are a lot of WAGs who don’t post their children but still do the whole influencer thing. And once Emil starts school, you’ll have more time to yourself,” Jobe reasoned like he’d really thought this out and was Jude’s business partner. “Listen, mate, you don’t have to do anything I say. We both know you’re stubborn as fuck. I’m just putting the idea out there. I’m not telling you to quit your job right now and put your whole life on the internet.”
“I just think—” Jude was interrupted by the sound of small feet running through the house. The excited, high-pitched squeal of a young voice had Jude snapping his head in the direction of the sound. A mop of curly blond hair appeared in the distance, his small body clad in his Spider-man pajamas. “Someone’s awake,” Jude announced to Jobe over the phone.
“Is that little man? Come talk to Uncle Jobe, buddy.”
“Uncle Jobe! Uncle Jobe! Uncle Jobe!” The young boy chanted, his small hands already diving straight towards Jude’s phone.
“Little man, you’re all over the internet!” Jobe told the young boy as if he would understand what any of those words meant. Jude glared at his phone.
“Don’t tell him that!”
“He doesn’t even know what I’m talking about,” Jobe reasoned.
“Still. Don’t tell him that.”
Emil looked at Jude’s phone with a face full of confusion, and all Jude could think when he made that face was how much he looked just like Erling. His heart tugged. Emil struggled for a bit to sit on the sofa by himself before growing frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t hold Jude’s phone in both of his hands and maneuver himself onto the sofa at the same time.
“Up!” Emil commanded to Jude, stretching his arms up for Jude to pick him up and put him on the couch. Jude grabbed him by his torso and sat him down firmly on the sofa. Emil kicked his feet on to Jude’s lap. Clearly, he was making himself comfortable.
“Emil, do you want Dada to become an Instagram influencer?” Jobe asked the little boy.
“Don’t involve my son in your nonsense, Jobe.”
“Hey, game is game,” Jobe replied simply.
Just then, a text message came through Jude’s phone. It was a picture of Erling at practice holding a thumbs down. At the sight of his other father, Emil squealed again.
“Papa! I want to talk to Papa! Bye-bye, Uncle Jobe,” said Emil before he unceremoniously hung the phone up on Jobe before either Jude or Jobe could say goodbye.