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This is how team game nights always end: Colin and Isaac, sitting side by side on the couch, playing FIFA or Mortal Kombat or GTA long after everyone else has gone home.
Tonight, it’s Mario Kart, the only video game Colin can consistently beat Isaac at. It’s a bit annoying, really, that his virtual driving skills don’t translate to real life. He throws a banana out behind him, securing his lead, and then glances at Isaac.
Isaac’s eyes are locked on the screen. They don’t usually talk much, on nights like this. It’s part of what makes their friendship work, really, the comfortable silence of two men of few words. Isaac can be his usual stoic self, and Colin doesn’t have to force himself to talk just to blend in. But the silence is less comfortable tonight, at least for Colin, who does have something he wants to say. He’s just finding his mouth and throat particularly uncooperative. Isaac seems none the wiser.
“Have you, eh, done anythin’ about what the gaffer said yesterday?” He finally manages.
Isaac doesn’t look at him when he answers, and Colin forces his eyes back to the screen.
“What, about watching that old film? Nah, figure it’ll be a team movie night soon enough.”
“No, the other thing. About, eh, doing something brave?”
At training, Dani had mentioned being nervous about falling back to defense and messing up in an unfamiliar position, which Colin was pretty sure was bullocks and Dani just didn’t want to, but Lasso had given a whole speech about being held back by fear and put in boxes, and the value of getting out of their comfort zone. And then he gave them ‘homework’ to do something brave outside of football.
Colin had not had to think for long about what he wanted to do. Really, the idea of coming out– not publicly, or even to the whole team, but just to Isaac– had been bouncing around the recesses of his brain for quite some time. Ted’s speech had simply brought it to the forefront, and Colin had been able to think of little else for the past day and a half.
“Yeah, I got it sorted.”
“What, already?”
“Gotta set an example, don’t I? Signed up for an improv class this weekend.”
That’s… really not what Colin was expecting to hear. He blinks. “What, like, acting?”
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try it out. D’you know what you’re going to do yet?”
Colin swallows thickly. He can feel the blood pounding in his ears. Say it, say it, say it. Isaac’s eyes are still locked on the TV. “I was thinking, I might, eh,” Colin’s voice falters, and he winces. He wants to be strong, when he says this. Strong and capable. This is just a normal conversation, like any other game night, the countless hours they’ve spent side by side, just like this. Say it, say it–
“Ha!” Isaac’s cheer jolts Colin back to the present, and he looks at the screen to see that Isaac has managed to pull ahead of him.
“Bullocks.” For a moment, they’re both focused on the game as Colin tries and fails to regain his lead and the second lap begins.
“What were you saying?”
Colin allows himself one long breath in and out. This time, he doesn’t look at Isaac. It’s just easier that way. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that… I’m gay.”
There’s a pause, a long one, before Isaac says, “What.”
“I’m gay.” It’s easier to say, the second time, and he’s relieved that his voice comes out steady. Colin does look at Isaac, now, but Isaac’s eyes are locked on the screen. His eyebrows furrow, and he looks kind of angry, but Isaac often looks angry, so Colin doesn’t read into that. Much.
“That’s not funny, bruv.”
“I’m not joking.”
Finally, Isaac looks at him, but Colin wishes he hadn’t because he’s met with a chilling side eye that freezes him on the spot. Isaac looks back to the screen, then down at the controller in his hands. He stands, back to Colin, and Colin feels a wave of nausea overtake him.
“Or, I can be, if you want. I can be joking.” Shame rises up and twists around his gut as soon as the words leave his mouth, but when Isaac turns and looks down at him, eyes dark and unforgiving, he can’t find it in himself to take it back, because as pathetic as it is, he means it; If Isaac laughs, or sits down, or keeps playing the stupid game, Colin will pretend to be joking in a heartbeat.
Isaac does not laugh. He does not sit back down. He just tosses the controller on the couch and walks away. By the time Colin regains control of his limbs and chases Isaac down, his car is already gone from the driveway.
***
Colin feels like a ghost, walking into training the next day. He has no idea what to expect. Has Isaac told everyone? Is his career over? There is only one way to find out. He grits his teeth, reminds himself he is a strong and capable man, and walks to the dressing room with his back straight, as much dignity as he can muster.
Isaac isn’t there when he walks in, which is odd. But Dani greets him enthusiastically, which is normal, and Richard makes fun of his polo shirt as soon as he reaches his locker, which is also normal. Jan Maas wastes no time in agreeing with Richard, and all of this is enough for Colin to pull on his familiar mask and react with the faux-indignation everyone is expecting of him.
Isaac arrives with only a few minutes to spare, which is strange enough that it draws the attention of most of the room. Colin tries to catch his eye, but Isaac refuses to look his way. He just grunts when Sam asks him if everything’s alright and stalks over to his locker.
There’s a brief lull, but the room quickly returns to its normal volume despite Isaac’s obvious mood and uncharacteristic lateness. Colin finishes changing quickly, eyes down, and scrolls aimlessly on his phone, occasionally glancing over at Isaac, but he’s not making eye contact. Then Isaac takes his shirt off, and Colin trains his eyes down on his phone and doesn’t budge.
The last few stragglers arrive, and everyone finishes getting into their training gear. Richard walks to the other side of the room to talk to Van Damme, meaning there’s no one between Colin and Isaac.
“Morning, Cap’n.”
Issac’s eyes dart towards the manager’s offices, like he wasn’t looking far enough away from Colin when he was staring straight on. So, that’s good. An encouraging start to the day. He keeps staring at him, waiting for some acknowledgement, but eventually it’s time to start warmups and Isaac yells for everyone to head to the pitch, leading the way without even a glance to the man sitting next to him.
***
Years of practice blending in and hiding any emotions from his personal life are really all that save Colin during training. Once, he had a blowout argument with a man all night until their inevitable, exhausting breakup at 3 am. It had been Colin’s longest relationship prior to meeting Michael, the first time he’d really fallen in love, and he’d still come into training at 7am the next morning and managed to get through the day without anyone realizing he was off.
It’s not a skill he’s proud of, per se, and ever since Ted showed up with his yee-haw, teambuilding, whatever, there have been times Colin wishes he could just ask his teammates for support like everyone else on a bad day. But that’s not his lot in life, and Isaac’s continued refusal to look his way or pass him the ball during training is a harsh reminder of why. All of Colin’s attempts to reach out are soundly rebuked, so he grits his teeth and plays as well as he can, despite the panic in his chest and shame in his gut.
It occurs to Colin that, unlike his private, hidden crises of the past, there actually is someone he can talk to about this. And after two days of being painfully ignored by his best friend, he sees a golden opportunity to do so. During their afternoon workout in the weight room, Ted, Beard, and Roy all follow Mr. Higgins out of their offices, leaving Trent alone, scribbling in his notebook. Colin finishes a set of arm curls, puts the weights away, and walks over. No one stops him – the only person who would is Isaac, and since he’s refusing to acknowledge Colin’s presence at the moment, Colin’s not surprised he’s able to pass through the weight room and to the offices without comment. Most of the team is listening to podcasts or chatting to one another, so he’s hoping no one will pay too much attention to his early exit.
He takes a deep breath as soon as the door is shut behind him. “I think I did something really stupid.”
***
Trent gives good advice. It’s not really what Colin wanted to hear – he’s not a very patient person, and Isaac’s cold shoulder is more painful than he wants to admit – but he does his best to follow it all the same. Give him a minute, Trent had said, and since Isaac doesn’t seem poised to reveal Colin’s secret to the rest of the team, Colin decides there’s no harm in waiting.
There are two things that help Colin cling to his sanity while Isaac continues to ignore him – the first is that Trent is around, and there’s something comforting about being able to catch his eye across the room when Isaac brushes him off, and knowing that at least one person has his back, that one person sees his ache even as the rest of the team continues on as if nothing is happening except Isaac being in a bit of a funk.
The second is that Michael finally is due back from a business trip to Tokyo. Since Colin’s opportunities for romantic gestures are rather limited by his double life, he decides to have Michael’s favorite meal ready and waiting when he gets home, (he refuses to let Colin pick him up at the airport, or anywhere else for that matter. Smart man). And, okay, it’s not actually Michael’s favorite meal, but it’s one Colin can cook without setting anything on fire, and Michael’s a big fan of his house not being burnt down. Plus Colin gets candles and red wine that Richard approved of, so he thinks it's still pretty romantic, all in all.
The night becomes decidedly less romantic when Michael greets Colin with a hug and Colin immediately bursts into tears. It’s not his proudest moment, but in his defense he’s been holding it together for nearly a week now, and he’s not been sleeping well, and Michael’s a really good hugger.
“Oh, okay, okay,” Michael says, a bit concerned and a bit confused but not panicky, like Colin would be. He pulls Colin’s head down to rest on his shoulder and cards his fingers through his hair, and he waits. Michael is patient. It’s one of Colin’s favorite things about him.
Eventually, Colin pulls away, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry, that’s not– I wasn’t planning to do that till after dinner.”
“So you were planning to burst into tears?”
Colin laughs wetly, and Michael’s looking at him for an explanation, eyes wide with worry, but before he can say anything the oven timer goes off and he rushes off to the kitchen to salvage some of the night he’d had planned.
He ends up telling Michael the whole story over chicken parmesan. He skims over some of the details, not wanting to relive every snubbed handshake and painful glare, but Micheal gets the gist.
“And he hasn’t said anything?”
“Nothing. Not even ‘pass’. Trent said to just give him some time, and I know he’s probably right but… it hurts.”
Dropping his fork on his half empty plate, Micheal leans over to cup Colin’s cheek. He rubs his thumb back and forth, all soft and sweet and soothing.
For a moment, Colin leans into his warm palm, but he clears his throat before he can start crying again. “Sorry, I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting for tonight.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. A home cooked meal, wine that’s far too nice for you to have chosen yourself, and you didn’t even set off the fire alarm. Honestly, you’re spoiling me.”
“It was one time,” Colin says, and they share a laugh. He knocks his knee against Michael’s, and Michael taps his foot against Colin’s ankle in return, and the ache in his chest eases, just a little. Just enough to enjoy the rest of the night in one of his two lives, and pretend the other isn’t threatening to rip apart at the seams.
***
Isaac’s late again. People are definitely noticing somethings up with him, but Colin’s pretty sure no one’s connected it to him. It’s probably for the best; without Isaac’s continued rejection choking him from the inside out, he can let his good mood from last night carry him through the morning locker room chatter. Because his job doesn’t start when they hit the pitch. If anything, it’s in the dressing room where his performance really shines.
A few of the lads are gathered around Bumbercatch’s phone, and Colin pops his head over Richard’s shoulder as soon as he’s done changing. They’re looking at a photo-shoot of one of Brighton’s defenders, and he’s dressed so flamboyantly Colin has to grit his teeth. He knows exactly where this conversation is going, and he’s used to it, really, but this week it’s a tad grating.
“Didn’t know Johnson swung that way,” Van Damme says, and Colin laughs along with the other guys, because it’s obvious that’s where the joke was headed this whole time.
His internal clock which tells him he’s gone too long without saying anything starts to ping, and this is a conversation Colin can do on autopilot. “Well, he does play for Brighton, you know they–”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Before Colin can even process what’s happening, Isaac’s up in his face. Everyone stops laughing, immediately, and disperses, except for Colin, who is frozen to the spot. And, look, Colin knows Isaac’s intimidating, it’s his job, or part of it, but he also knows Isaac too well for that to work on him. He teases him about it, sometimes, when they scrimmage against each other and Isaac tries to scare him. But he’s never had Isaac’s full fury directed at him, and it turns out – yeah. He’s really fucking scary.
“I– I didn’t– I didn’t mean it–”
“Why the fuck would you say that?”
Colin stumbles back till he hits the bench with the back of his knees, and Sam and Jamie finally pull Isaac back. Colin feels pins and needles, hot pinpricks all over his skin, and everyone is looking, now, and the coaches have all stepped out of the office. Isaac’s still yelling, pulling against the hands holding him back, asking Colin what he meant, but Colin doesn’t think he could talk even if he had an answer. His eyes dart around the room, desperate for an out. Most people look confused, or alarmed. Trent’s on his feet, notebook on the ground in front of him, , and he catches Colin’s eye with a concerned look, but what is he supposed to do?
Van Damme steps between them, hands up. “Hey, man, sorry. We shouldn’t have been joking about that.”
“It’s some fucking ignorant shit!” Now that there’s more space between them, Colin can see Isaac is literally heaving with rage. What he really doesn’t understand is why. Colin knows he’s not the brightest, even graded on a sliding scale for footballers, but he’s pretty sure if anyone’s supposed to be righteously indignant here, it’s him.
Isaac shrugs off Jamie and stalks out of the room. For a moment, everyone’s silent. Colin feels the same frozen shame he felt just a few days ago when Isaac’s gaze had pinned him to the couch. It’s like he’s folding in on himself, trapped within his own skull as the room presses in on him.
“Yo, what the fuck was that?” Van Damme says, breaking the silence and pulling Colin back to the present. The pins and needles melt away, leaving his skin hot and tingling. He comes rushing back into his body all at once and he’s on his feet before he has a chance to think about it. He follows in Isaac’s footsteps, but no one really pays much attention, as the whole room had burst into a cacophony of questions and theories at Van Damme’s exclamation.
Shaky, unsteady legs carry him to the bootroom, the unspoken but uncontested location for these sorts of confrontations. Ignoring a wave of nausea, he repeats his mantra in his head and opens the door.
Isaac is sitting on the bench, exactly where Colin expected him, but he’s not alone. Colin didn’t even notice Roy leave the room, but he’s sitting beside Isaac, and he glares when Colin comes in. Or maybe that’s just Roy’s normal face. Hard to tell, really, and Colin only has the emotional capacity for one emotionally repressed bastard right now.
“You know Ted’s policy on fight club,” Roy says.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on him. Won’t even give him a concussion,” Colin says.
Roy just rolls his eyes at that – which, okay, Colin’s got no illusions about his ability to fight Isaac, but come on. He’s scrappy. He’d at least get a few good scrapes in before Isaac pummelled him, if that was his goal.
Roy stands and walks towards the door, pausing for a moment to give Colin a long look. “Just don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
Too late, Colin thinks. Then Roy is gone and he’s alone with Isaac for the first time since that night.
“You should.” Isaac says, eyes still trained on the floor.
“Huh?”
“Concuss me, punch me, whatever. I deserve it.”
Colin squints at him. “Have I been concussed? Honestly, I haven’t been this confused since Roy headbutted me.”
“You’re confused?”
And a bit dizzy, if he’s telling the truth, so a concussion isn’t the worst comparison. “Yeah, mun. You haven’t talked to me in a week, and then you’re yelling at me for being homophobic. Forgive me if I’m a little bit lost here.”
“I just– I don’t get– what you said–”
“Are you still on about that? It wasn’t even that bad.”
Isaac finally looks at him, then, unimpressed. It’s the look he uses to quell dissent among the team, and it’s bloody effective. Colin sighs. “Everyone says shit like that, okay? I’m just trying to blend in.”
“Well you shouldn’t– we shouldn’t– I shouldn’t have said that shit.” Isaac says so forcefully he stands, and takes a step forward. Colin can’t help but jump a little, and Isaac hangs his head when he does.
So. That’s what all this was about. Some misplaced guilt or something, spiraling out, the same way it had last season when he’d felt like he was failing as captain and took it out on everyone else.
Colin’s throat is constricting, and he takes a deep breath because he really can’t cry right now. Training hasn’t even started yet, for christ’s sake. “It doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t mean it. I’ve never meant it, anyways.”
Isaac considers that, and then, with such sincerity it would be enough to crack a much less forgiving man than Colin, he says, “Well, I still shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry, Bruv. For everything.”
Colin nods again. He’s not exactly sure what Isaac means by everything, but he assumes he means more than the past few days of treating him like a leper. It doesn’t matter, really. Colin doesn’t care about some big apology. He just wants everything to go back to normal. For a moment they just stare at each other. “So… are we cool?”
Isaac nods, firm and determined. “I won’t say shit like that again, ever. No one else will either. I promise.”
Colin sticks his hand out, but Isaac furrows his brow, looks down at the outstretched hand like it's cursed, and all the shame comes rushing back to Colin’s chest. He should have just taken the victory, shouldn’t have pushed him, shouldn’t have expected him to shake his hand or touch him, shouldn’t have–
Isaac hugs him. It’s a crushing, forceful hug, and Colin’s hand is trapped awkwardly between them. It’s a good thing Isaac’s holding him so tight because Colin’s legs turn to jelly and he’s not sure he can support his own weight. After a moment he raises up his other arm and returns the gesture.
It’s funny, they hug all the time during victory matches and the like, but they’ve never really hugged like this. Colin’s a touchy guy, but Isaac’s not, usually, which is a shame because it turns out he’s really good at it. With Isaac’s arms wrapped tight around him, Colin feels all the pieces of himself that have been falling away for the past week stitching themselves back into place.
They walk back to the dressing room together, and the room falls silent when they walk in.
“So, is everything hunky-dory, then?” Ted asks, looking all genuine and concerned between the two of them.
Colin nods. He ducks his head and goes back towards his locker, easily dissolving into the crowd while everyone is focused on Isaac.
“Yeah. But I was serious ‘bout what I said before. I don’t want to hear that shit again, from anyone.”
Everyone is very quick to agree to this, and Colin’s not quite sure what to make of it. But when he looks up and catches Isaac’s eye, there’s a hard look and he knows Isaac means it.
Honestly, Colin thinks his ability to blend in with straight men is bordering on a superpower, because even now the only person who looks his way is Trent. Colin can’t draw attention with something as obvious as a thumbs up, but he nods his head a little and smiles, and Trent raises an eyebrow – they’ll definitely be talking later – but smiles back.
“Right, enough of that, everyone get on the fucking pitch. We still got training, fuck’s sake.”
***
When Colin was 12, he took a bad fall during a game, and his team captain yelled at him for being a fairy when he didn’t want to get back up. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that sort of language, and he’d known he was gay for much longer, but it was the first time he’d really been able to connect the two dots and understood what it would mean for him, if he stayed in football.
He got recruited by Cardiff a month later, and since then not a week has gone by without him hearing some sort of slur or joke, in the locker room or on the pitch.
That is, until Isaac’s edict, which the team takes up with shocking enthusiasm, even when Isaac isn’t around. It’s a bit confusing, honestly, because Colin had always assumed there would be consequences for speaking up like that – something he’d discussed at length with both Dr. Sharon and his current therapist. He’s not sure if it’s the Lasso effect, or Isaac’s position as team captain, or what, but the fact his position on the team is entirely unchanged flies in the face of everything Colin thought he knew about football specifically and straight men in general.
Trent seems to think it’s because of the culture Ted has built over the past three years, which he tells Colin very enthusiastically, but Colin thinks he’s biased because he’s obviously in love with Ted. Michael tells him he should just be happy and enjoy it while it lasts, which is probably good advice but Colin finds it hard to just accept.
It turns out, he does not have to wait too long for an answer. They win the match against Brighton, and go out to celebrate. Of course, it's the middle of the season and they’ve got another match in a few days, so Isaac’s very strict about how much they’re actually allowed to celebrate. He drags Colin with him to get a round of waters, and then gets distracted by a pretty girl and sends Colin back on his own.
“We lost Isaac,” he says when he gets back to the booth, passing out glasses to Sam, Jamie, and Bumbercatch. “But he says everyone’s got to go home in half an hour. I don’t really care though, so drink up.”
“Well I’m definitely leavin’. Roy’s gonna be at me house in five hours. He’s a fuckin’ menace. And I’ll be captain if Isaac’s gone, so you’re all leavin’ too.”
“Who said you get to be captain? I can send them home,” Sam says. “Drink your water,” he tells Colin, pulling away the half empty beer bottle he’d started to grab for as if to prove his point.
“Where is Isaac, anyways?” Bumbercatch asks.
Colin nods his head towards the bar, where Isaac’s still chatting up the girl. It must be going well because Isaac puts a hand on her back and they start walking towards the door. Isaac looks over his shoulder and grins. Colin flips him off with a laugh.
When he turns back to the guys at the table, he’s surprised to see them all looking rather uncomfortable.
Bumbercatch shifts an empty bottle in front of him. “D’you think we should, like, talk to him, or something?”
“Why? He’s not wrong, we have got a match in a few days.” Colin says.
The other three men all give Colin a weird look at that, and he can’t help but feel like he’s missed a step in the conversation.
“We said we wouldn’t press…” Sam says.
“Press about what?” He gets another set of weird looks at that, and suddenly Colin feels quite nauseous. He takes a big sip of water, and then another little one. Shit, maybe he should have switched to water when Isaac first told him to an hour ago, but he really hasn’t had that much to drink.
No one answers him. “It’s a bit sad though, innit? If he thinks he’s gotta make a show of leavin’ with a girl or somethin’,” Jamie says.
Colin squints at him. He didn’t think Isaac was being particularly showy, not like Richard, who had left with two models earlier in the night and made sure the whole team saw them walking out. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Colin,” Bumbercatch says, in the tone of voice Colin’s all too familiar with which means he’s missing something obvious.
“Guys, we shouldn’t be talking about this. Isaac just needs our support.”
“Yeah, but he don’t know we support him,” Jamie says. “I think we gotta tell him.”
“Well you all don’t sound very supportive right now,” Colin says, and that earns him yet another set of “how can you be this dumb” looks, but Colin just can’t figure out what on earth they’re on about. “If someone says one more confusing thing I’m gonna…” Colin trails off, trying to come up with a suitable threat.
“You’re gonna what?” Jamie says, grinning.
“Fuck off, I’m thinking.”
“Oooh, don’t hurt yourself, I know that’s unfamiliar for ya.”
Colin shoves Jamie’s side, but he just laughs, the prick. “Seriously, what are you all on about?”
“Colin, Isaac’s… gay,” Bumbercatch says.
Colin’s heart stops. For a second he freezes and – of course. Of course they think that, because Isaac yelled about a joke that wasn’t even that offensive in front of the whole team. And then he’d doubled down and threatened them all about making any more offensive comments in the future, and obviously the only reason someone would do that is if they had a personal interest.
Well, at least he can say ‘I told you so’ to his therapist, who had tried to convince Colin that telling his teammates he wasn’t comfortable with that sort of language was not actually the same as coming out.
But… they hadn’t been treating Isaac differently, either. Not really, he didn’t think.
“Isaac’s not gay,” he says.
“Colin, Come on,” Bumbercatch says, “he yelled at you in front of everyone, called us ignorant – and, you know, we probably deserved it–”
“We definitely deserved it,” Sam says. “I am sorry that I never stood up when I heard that kind of language before. Isaac should not have had to go so many years hearing that sort of thing from people who are supposed to be his friends.”
Okay, Colin’s either too drunk or not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. The others are still talking, but Colin doesn’t really hear them. What is he supposed to do here? Defend Isaac’s honor? Throw him under the bus? He vaguely hears Sam say that he did a bit of reading and perhaps Isaac is bisexual and – fuck it. They did reading.
“Guys, Isaac’s not gay,” Colin says, interrupting Jamie. They all give him a pitying look like he’s so daft he’s beyond helping, which he hasn’t seen since his year four teacher tried to teach him long division. But he steals himself and presses on. “I am.”
The shift is instantaneous. Bumbercatch looks like he’s been hit in the stomach, Jamie’s mouth falls open, even Sam looks taken aback. Colin takes a deep breath and continues. “I came out to Isaac a few days before… before that all went down. I think I confused him, a bit. So that’s… that’s what that all was about.”
Fuck. They’re all staring at him. Just a second ago they were talking about how they needed to be there for Isaac, but maybe it’s different, with him?
“So, uh, we good?”
And they all snap out of it and talk over each other to reassure him. Jamie grabs his shoulder and Sam reaches over him to put a hand on his arm, while Bumbercatch nods vigorously. Colin breathes out a sigh of relief and leans back. “Right. Okay. Thanks. Uh, does the whole team think Isaac’s gay?”
Apparently so. That sends Colin into a fit of laughter which definitely confuses the other guys, but he can’t help it. The combination of the relief of coming out and the bizarreness of the situation has him feeling lightheaded. When he finishes he ends up with a bad case of hiccups and Jamie pats his back, and it’s nice, actually, that it didn’t take nearly a week of silence for them to realize Colin isn’t diseased. They leave soon after, and all three of them hug Colin for longer than strictly necessary, but that’s kind of nice, too.
***
After that things are… good. A bit weird, because Jamie will waggle his eyebrows at Colin at random moments, and Bumbercatch seems to think they’re co-conspirators or something, and Sam keeps giving him these big, earnest eyes and patting his back, which is sweet but a little much.
Isaac, at least, has gone completely back to normal, which is such a relief Colin doesn’t even know how to put it into words. It’s so nice Colin really doesn’t want to risk messing it up again, so he hasn’t quite figured out how to tell him the whole team thinks he’s bent.
“I don’t think you have to tell him,” Trent says. “No one is treating him any differently. It will probably all blow over.”
Colin spins around in Roy’s chair. It’s late, even all the managers have gone home, but Colin doubled back when he saw Trent’s car in the lot. He’d spent a few minutes teasing him about making moon eyes at the gaffer during training, but Trent had quickly turned the conversation on him to figure out why Bumbercatch was acting so weird. Well, a different kind of weird than usual, anyways.
“Probably. It’s just, well, that’s the problem, innit?”
“What do you mean?”
“No one’s treating him differently.”
Trent blinks at him. Colin sighs. “It’s just… they aren’t treating Isaac differently. But they’re treating me differently. The three who know.”
“Hmmm.”
“D’ya think it’s something about me? Like, Isaac’s so straight somehow even when they think he’s gay, it doesn’t really count?”
“I don’t think so, no. I suspect it has more to do with their suppositions about Isaac’s sexuality being purely hypothetical while yours is now confirmed.”
Colin chews on that for a minute. Maybe there’s something to it – like, he’s still nervous about introducing Isaac to Michael officially, even though he’s asked about it, because what if Isaac actually sees him with a fella and decides he’s not so fine with it, after all?
“I guess… yeah, maybe. That’s better than if it were just something about me, I guess.”
“It doesn’t sound like it’s been negative,” Trent says. “Even if they have been acting a little differently.”
“No, it’s… it’s been okay.” Colin sighs, dragging his feet and lazily rocking the chair side to side. He wonders if Roy will notice, tomorrow, that someone’s messed with his stuff. He’ll probably make them all run laps, but he’ll probably do that anyways, to be fair. “Hows the writing coming?”
“Better, before you came in and distracted me.”
“Yeah, whatever. You could have gotten all your notes down during training if you weren’t distracted by–”
“Don’t finish that sentence."
***
After a week or so, Colin has to admit that Trent is, once again, correct. Jamie and Bumbercatch and Sam have all relaxed, and he still hasn’t quite worked up the courage to introduce – or rather, reintroduce – Michael and Isaac, but he’s getting there.
On the bus ride home from a win against Tottenham, Ted brings up the reason all this mess started in the first place. He’d sort of forgotten, in all his angsting over Isaac, that Ted had challenged them to do something brave.
“That was one hell of a game, fellas, and we had some real brave plays. I just wanted to see if anyone had gotten a chance to do something brave outside of work, if anyone wants to share.”
Apparently, people do. Isaac talks about his improv class, which had apparently been a roaring success, and Colin didn’t know because it was in the week they weren’t talking. Rosendfelt and Roberts went skydiving together. Dani went on a kiddie ride at an amusement park he’d previously been too scared of and everyone cheers for him.
Colin looks around at his teammates. He thinks about how they’ve jumped to change their language, in the past couple of weeks. He thinks about Jamie, who’s gone out of his way to include Colin in every celebration, pulling him into hugs and slapping his back, ever since he came out. He thinks about Sam, reading up on sexualities to better support Isaac.
He looks over at Isaac, now, who’s giving him a sort of sad, guilty smile, lips pressed together, like maybe he’s also thinking about that night and Colin’s first attempt to meet Ted’s challenge. Colin smiles back at him, and Isaac bumps his shoulder in a silent show of support.
“Alright, anyone else want to share?” Ted asks.
Colin swallows. He looks around at his teammates. And then he stands. “Yeah, actually. I’ve got something I want to say.”
***
A team game night has never started quite like this: Michael, sitting in the chair next to Colin, a hand of cards held in front of him as he studies Jan Maas. It’s been an intense game that has narrowed down to just the two of them and Bumbercatch.
“Call,” Michael says, throwing a few chips into the center of the table. He leans back, bumping against Colin’s arm, which is casually flung across the back of his chair.
The team oohs, and then it’s Bumbercatch’s turn. Michael shoots Colin an amused grin and his heart leaps, because he loves Michael’s smile, and because he’s here, and the teams here, and they know who Michael is to Colin, and they all came to game night anyways and greeted him so enthusiastically, and Colin’s two lives have never been closer than they are right now.
The poker game ends, and Jan Maas is obnoxious as he always is in victory. Some of the team peels off to start up the X-Box in the living room, and some stay for another round of poker, and a few head to the kitchen for drinks. Colin sticks close to Michael, because the team has been more welcoming than he’d ever have guessed, but he still isn’t going to throw Michael to the wolves.
Eventually, people start heading home. When most of the team has left Michael excuses himself to go to bed, because he has a regular person job with normal hours, and soon enough it’s just Isaac, left. Team game night ends as it always does, the two of them side by side on the couch, playing FIFA, and contentment settles over him, loosening the tension he’s carried in his shoulders for years and seeping into his veins, knowing that no matter how the night starts, it will always end with Isaac by his side.