Chapter Text
"When I first met Haaland, I assumed he was just another one of those young footballers who'd had everything handed to him by life - or by wealthy parents - and because of that, thought the football world revolved around him. Back then, everyone talked about him as Dortmund's wonderkid, and you'd expect someone like that to keep his distance from a newcomer, especially one who was even younger than him. But from the very first day, he was surprisingly approachable."
"So it's fair to say you became friends almost immediately?"
"Anyone who meets Erling would probably say the same. I think we would've ended up friends even if I'd tried to stop it." Jude laughed.
"You two have very different personalities. Did that ever cause disagreements?"
"All the time. I like having a plan. He's an expert at ruining it. Erling Haaland tears through life like wildfire - not just on the pitch, but off it too. Being around him is never boring. He always has some ridiculous idea to make the day more interesting, even when all I want after training is to go home and rest. He's always ready for the next adventure. Completely unstoppable. And the worst thing about him is... somehow, you just can't say no to him."
"It's been four years since you last played for the same club. What was that period like? How difficult was it to adjust to playing without Haaland - or even against him?"
Jude's smile faded slightly.
"I miss it. I miss playing with him. We knew each other's movements without having to think about them. We always seemed to know where the other would be a second later. Most of the time, if one of us scored, the other had probably provided the assist. Playing without him was difficult at first. I used to think we were like the Wonder Twins-that we were only truly at our best together."
"But it's safe to say that wasn't the case. You've already scored four goals at this World Cup, helping England reach this stage of the tournament, while Haaland has seven to his name. What are your expectations going into the next match, where you'll once again face each other?"
Jude smiled again.
"May the better team win."
"Wonder Twins, huh?" Erling laughed, pushing himself to his feet before pulling Jude into a hug with those ridiculously long arms of his.
"You watched it?" Jude asked, hugging him back. Even at 186 centimetres, he felt small next to Erling, who looked every bit like he'd inherited the build of an actual Viking.
"These days I only get to see you on TV. Of course I watched it." Erling laughed as they slid into one of the booths. One of Kansas City's quieter cafés had turned out to be the perfect place for a last-minute reunion. Jude felt strangely awkward sitting across from him, though he couldn't have explained why.
It had been a year since they'd last seen each other in person. Apart from the occasional text, they barely spoke anymore. The World Cup had seemed like the perfect opportunity to catch up, but everything had happened so quickly that they hadn't managed to meet until now.
So Jude simply sat there, watching the handsome Norwegian. His shoulder-length hair was tied back, just as it usually was. Jude had always liked the brightly coloured hair ties Erling insisted on wearing. He liked the way Erling would pull them out after training, the elastic snapping sharply against his wrist.
"What's with you, Vicky?" Erling teased. "I know I'm a bit too pale for the American sun, but you keep staring at me like you've seen a ghost."
"I just..." Jude looked away for a second. "...missed you, mate."
Erling's grin softened.
"Missed you too, Vicky. Come on, I was glued to the TV for every one of your matches. Strutting around in that ridiculously sexy white kit..." He laughed. "Then those goals? Bloody hell, mate. I was getting excited." He was joking. Obviously. He had to be. Yet Jude still felt heat creeping up his neck until his entire face was burning.
"You weren't exactly doing badly yourself." Jude tried to match Erling's easy confidence. "Seven goals... I've got a long way to go before I catch up to that."
The truth was, he'd watched every one of Erling's matches too. Every close-up shot made him wish he were standing beside him, celebrating another goal together instead of watching from the other side of the world.
Erling shrugged.
"You'll catch me. I've probably only got two days left in this tournament anyway." A crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Apparently we've drawn some scary team. They've got this young lad who charges forward like an absolute maniac."
Jude smiled.
"Even he won't be able to stop the Vikings."
"Oh, a Viking's easy enough to stop."
"Really?"
"Distract him."
Jude tilted his head, smiling.
"Is that so?"
They held each other's gaze for a moment. Just long enough for Jude's imagination to start wandering. Then Erling spoke again.
"With your football, obviously." He never looked away. "You're bloody brilliant."
"Really?" Jude tilted his head, smiling. For a moment, neither of them said anything. They simply looked at each other. Before Jude's imagination could wander too far, Erling spoke again.
"With your football, obviously." He never broke eye contact. "You're bloody good."
"My football. Right."
Jude held his gaze for as long as he could. Until those impossibly bright blue eyes started pulling him in. He was the first to look away.
"We've already made history anyway," Erling said in an exaggerated commentator's voice. "Or at least that's what the papers keep saying."
Jude laughed.
"I suppose I should thank you for knocking Brazil out. I'm not sure we would've managed it ourselves." Erling winked.
"You can thank me after you've won the whole thing." Jude's heart skipped a beat. He hated that it still happened.
"Or maybe you'll be the ones lifting the trophy." Jude smiled. "I heard Thor's playing for Norway these days." The comparison had been all over the media ever since the tournament began.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment, Vicky?" Erling grinned. "Are you calling me a Norse god?"
"As if you weren't already aware of your own advantages."
Erling's smile only grew wider.
"Sounds better when you say it."
Jude let out another quiet sigh. It was honestly ridiculous how easily one sentence from Erling could throw him off balance.
"Whatever happens..." he said, steering the conversation somewhere safer, "...I'll be happy."
"Me too, Vicky!" Erling beamed. "We're on the same pitch again. What more could I ask for?"
"Opposite sides." Jude corrected automatically.
"So what?" Erling shrugged. "Means I'll finally get the chance to tackle you properly." There it was again. That smile.
"Keep dreaming, Haaland."
Erling leaned back in his seat, a challenge already burning in his eyes.
"You're good. Better than Kane, I'll give you that." He smirked. "But you're still not getting past me."
It was the exact same look the cameras had captured a hundred times during this World Cup. Fire in his eyes. Completely focused. Like he was marching into battle instead of a football match. Social media loved that expression. Memes, edits, endless comments about how terrifying he looked whenever he locked onto an opponent. Honestly… They weren't wrong. When Erling charged forward, he looked almost inhuman. Like nothing on the pitch could possibly stop him. Jude wasn't intimidated. He only saw the loud, ridiculous idiot hidden behind that determined expression. The friend he'd known for six years. Somehow… Erling affected him differently than anyone else ever had.
"We'll see about that, Haaland." Jude smiled, unable to hide the playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're not scaring me."
"Scaring you is the last thing on my mind, Vicky." Erling laughed, effortlessly relaxed as always. "I'm just curious to see what you've come up with. You must have a few tricks I haven't seen yet."
"I'm not giving away my game plan two days before the match." Jude met his eyes without wavering. "But I can tell you this much - we're not giving up that trophy without a fight."
Erling smirked.
"You don't have to give it to me." He leaned back in his seat. "I'll take it myself."
"You always get what you want, don't you?" Jude shot back.
"Did you watch our match against Brazil?"
Jude smiled.
"That header? It was a brilliant goal." He shook his head. "I'm surprised you didn't get yourself injured."
Erling's grin turned teasing.
"Were you worried about me, Vicky?"
"I'm always worried when you pull stunts like that on the pitch." Jude looked straight into his eyes. For the briefest moment… Erling looked flustered. It disappeared so quickly that Jude wasn't even sure he'd really seen it.
"Then I'll take it easy the day after tomorrow."
Jude honestly didn't know how many more times he could survive that crooked smile Erling kept throwing his way.
"Don't hold back because of me." He raised both hands in mock surrender.
Erling's smile softened.
"If you're on the pitch..." he said quietly, "...I always have to hold back."
That single sentence completely threw Jude off balance. He had no idea when he'd started feeling this way around Erling. He'd tried to ignore it. Tried to bury it. Pretend it wasn't there. None of it worked. There was something about this Norwegian - with his infuriatingly charming, impossible personality - that simply refused to leave Jude's thoughts alone. And he couldn't afford that. This was the World Cup. Their manager expected a lot from him. A place in the semi-finals was on the line. The pressure only kept growing. Yet all he could think about was that stupid smile. The one he'd caught himself replaying over and over again, even hours after they'd said goodbye. Far more times than he ever should have.