Archive of Our Own

Bellyache: pain in the abdomen, especially in the stomach. As a verb, to ‘bellyache’ means to complain peevishly about something minor or unfair.

Kylian didn’t know when exactly it started.

He wouldn’t call it a habit. Not really. The word was too connoted, uncomfortably earnest in ways he didn’t want to swallow. But, no matter how much he tried to rationalize this thing, he still hadn’t found a way to correctly refer to it. 

He was used to comforting Ethan after big losses. He liked kids despite their mood swings and tantrums. People have even marveled at how good he was with babies. 

But well, Jude Bellingham wasn’t a child, was he?

As a player, Jude had grown into an undeniable star—he was steadier, swifter, more agile and decisive on the ball. As a person, Kylian could admit Jude was still every bit hot-headed, temperamental, and even spoiled according to several big mouths in the locker room.

Kylian never participated in the banter directed at Jude. Nonetheless, the topic came up enough that he couldn’t escape it. Vini, Fede, and Trent especially loved to poke at how their number 5 couldn’t cook, drive or clean. Despite how the jokes always managed to rile Jude up (thus providing an endless source of entertainment for the team) Kylian found them a bit exaggerated. What was wrong with dedicating one’s time to football? Jude was dedicated and disciplined in ways even his younger self wasn’t. In fact, they were quite similar in their priorities, with football taking precedence over all else. 

Jude’s almost manic infatuation with the game was something Kylian could relate to very well. He had only gotten his driver’s license recently, he didn’t particularly like doing his laundry, and his cooking was nothing to brag about. When he was younger, Kylian hated being told what to do, especially when people would nag him about expected life milestones. It was all about his diploma, driver’s license, car and apartment when all he wanted was to play football. He’d waived his parents off back then, placating them with promises that those sorts of things would come eventually.

In contrast, Jude seemed less of a contrarian than his younger self—he always sought to improve his performance. From the tight-face teenager he’d watched during the 2020 Euros to the confident player swerving around defenders now, Jude has undoubtedly matured. There was no reason to believe he wouldn’t grow into himself outside of football as well.

That being said, if Jude actually wanted to disprove the spoiled accusation, then he should really ease up on the pouting and grouching. It was getting a bit hard to defend him when he had an armful of whiney Bellingham after every loss.

They dated. Things didn't work out. They broke up.

That was how Kylian usually summarized their now ex-relationship to others. 

Contrary to what the media speculated, there was no big explosive fight or irreparable disagreement, their ‘tension’ was simply a result of their separation in addition to a difficult season and locker room politics. If anything, his relationship with Jude ended much more peacefully than with his exes. He was glad they were mature enough to at least put their feelings and any resentment aside for the sake of the team. After the World Cup, he was even confident enough to say that they were on cordial terms. They still hung out in different crowds and weren’t as close as before, but much of the initial awkwardness had disappeared. Kylian was sure they’d become close friends again, eventually. Except, he wasn’t sure how to deal with Jude’s new post-match… quirk.

When they’d still been dating, Jude would be the first to jump in his arms or pepper kisses all over his neck after a win. Despite his many warnings to tone it down in public, a win never failed to transform Jude into an elated ball of energy and affection. He tried to stay firm on his rules, lest people start looking too deep into their coinciding schedules outside of practice. But in the face of tail-wagging and pleading eyes, Kylian found himself cornered, and after a day of pitiful grumbling, he dropped the subject entirely.

He’s always had a soft spot for big dogs anyway.

Now that they weren’t dating however, Jude had become more distant. Kylian didn’t have any particular feelings about the change in behavior—it was only normal he’d be guarded after their breakup. If anything, this gave him the perfect opportunity to tease Jude. A well-timed wink at the World Cup, a brush against his biceps during practice, a quick double high-five before a game. 

It was exhilarating. After months of obvious displays of affection from Jude, he was finally the one to initiate. Kylian especially enjoyed watching him get lost in the adrenaline of a goal, reverting back to his old ways for only a split second before remembering who he was celebrating with. It was a bit sadistic but they couldn’t dance around each other forever. 

The faster they revert back to how things were before, the better.

(The faster they went back to being platonic friends, the faster he could move on and pretend that Jude touching him didn’t affect him at all).

Except it was easier said than done because somewhere along the season, Jude picked up the baffling ritual of cuddling up to him after a loss. Kylian didn’t exactly mind it, comforting Jude was almost like second nature to him—and a small part of him could admit it was nice to have a familiar weight in his arms—but it was getting harder to convince himself that their arrangement was normal. Even while they were dating, Jude never went as far as cuddling him in public, especially right after a game, when the whole team could see and intrude on them. 

Jude was stubborn, but he also knew what lines not to cross. At least Kylian believed he did, because all of what he thought he knew about Jude and their current relationship went out the window the second they lost against Real Betis. 

Jude was desperate during that game, practically asking for an injury with the way he chased after every loose ball. Kylian grimaced at the way the opposition zeroed-in on him, all too happy to exploit his frustration at having been excluded from the starting line-up. But even despite their dirty tackles, Jude wouldn’t back down. He was absolutely everywhere, intercepting every action, and getting into spats with the opposition. Kylian sighed. When Jude got into his head like this, he was bound to explode.

It finally happened when the Betis goalkeeper got too close to him in a useless intimidation attempt. Kylian had simply told the idiot off and walked away. He was too used to cocky goalkeepers and their big mouths to make a scene, especially when they were still down. So, all things considered, it would’ve and should’ve ended there—if not for an outraged Jude running up with insults already spilling from his lips. Kylian didn’t stay around to watch the ensuing altercation, his mind focused on how they could turn the game around, but he carefully filed the moment away to be examined later. It wasn’t unusual for Jude to enter into altercations, especially when teammates were concerned, but this development was certainly new ever since their breakup. He’d have to dwell on it later, preferably not when the team was down.

At the very least, Jude eventually calmed down. He made his way back to his position with a last string of insults thrown at the Betis goalkeeper. Kylian made sure to pat him on the back before the game resumed, a last-ditch attempt at encouraging the Englishman to ease up. The touch was fleeting, a quick brush against the small of Jude’s back. Kylian wasn’t even sure he’d felt it until Jude turned to him was an inexplicable glint in his eyes. No words were exchanged. Jude eventually averted his gaze. And that was that.

In the end, despite their best efforts, the final whistle was blown with a bitter score of one-nil. The first loss of the season under their new coach. After thanking the fans, the team regained the tunnels in silence, their heads hung low. Kylian remembered mechanically going through the motions of getting undressed, only half listening to the speech Mourinho was giving to the locker room. He wanted nothing more than to shower and head home, his missed penalty stinging in the back of his throat. 

As soon as Mourinho’s speech concluded, everyone filed out of the locker room. Kylian began to gather up his belongings, but before he could head for the showers, Jude appeared in front of him. For some reason, he was still dressed in his full kit. Kylian frowned, noting Jude’s tense shoulders and tight expression, before asking, “Something wrong?”

“No.” Jude answered cryptically, and then, just as suddenly as he appeared, launched his body into Kylian’s arms.

It was really less of a hug and more of Jude letting himself go limp. Kylian froze, unsure of the correct procedure to follow when dealing with a lapful of Jude Bellingham. In any case, the locker room bench was much too narrow to hold two people on top of each other, so Kylian scrambled to grab a hold of the man in his lap. Jude resolutely stayed silent during the whole ordeal, and if anything got even more comfortable once Kylian wrapped an arm around his waist to stabilize their position. He sighed and rested his cheek against Kylian’s neck, a mocking reminder of the quiet hugs they used to share in the intimacy of the night. 

Something twisted in Kylian’s chest, threatening to spill out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried to push it down. He wanted to say something, to ask why, what, how, to get an explanation from the one person who he’d ever allow to even try something like this. But Jude wouldn’t look at him, face burrowed deep into Kylian’s chest as if mapping out the way his heart erratically thumped whenever he let out a sigh against his bare skin. 

Kylian shivered, torn between opening a Pandora's box or turning a blind eye to what seemed like an unavoidable disaster. But then Jude pressed the ghost of a kiss against his nape, pausing to drag his lips all the way up to the shell of his ears, and any sound previously stuck inside his throat fizzled out, succumbing to the fiery heat coiling deep inside his guts. Kylian felt his mouth go dry, and the satisfied, almost animalistic noise Jude let out when he finally relaxed into his touch would haunt him for days. They stayed like that—a mess of tangled up limbs and unasked questions—for what felt like hours until Jude eventually drew away. 

Kylian patiently waited for an explanation as Jude extracted himself from his lap, but the latter seemed determined to avoid his gaze. The silence stretched on—its suffocating weight snuffing out the fragile spark that had fleetingly been lit between the two of them. Jude cleared his throat, and with an almost juvenile sheepishness that reminded Kylian of the wide-eyed teenager he’d briefly played against years ago, mumbled out a garbled ‘thanks’ before disappearing into the hallways. 

Kylian stared at the door through which Jude left for longer than he’d like to admit, his heart hammering against his chest, threatening to jump out from his ribcage. It took a while before his legs felt stable enough to carry him to the showers. But even with freezing water dripping down his body, a fiery brand pulsed underneath his skin, right where Jude had peppered his searing kisses.

Kylian didn’t know what to think of it.

The inexplicable ‘ritual’ continued. Even after wins, Jude would find a way into Kylian’s arms. 

Inter. Rayo Vallecano. Elche. Without fail, Jude wound up in his arms after every final whistle, no matter the score or team performance, mumbling about how frustrated and tired he was.Whether he was upset about a missed goal or a lopsided pass, it seemed he always had a reason for them to cuddle after a game. Kylian wanted to argue against the term, coined by an unsuspecting Vini who’d inadvertently walked into the confusing sight of a grouchy Jude using his arm as a pillow, but he couldn’t deny that what they were doing was indeed strange. He’s had his fair share of breakups, some messy and some cordial, but none of his exes had ever acted the way Jude did. It wasn’t exactly normal post-separation behavior, was it?

Their whole arrangement was baffling at first, especially considering they’d been rather distant for a large part of the last season, and thus drew in many curious glances from their teammates. But the novelty soon wore off after the nth time Jude bee-lined straight for Kylian after a game. The more egregious Jude got, not even bothering to hide his clinginess, the less people questioned the whole ordeal, and eventually, all of Real Madrid staff and players came to accept Kylian acting as Jude’s human emotional support as a new (if not strange) post-match tradition. This development backed Kylian further into a corner.

Now that everyone had begun to accept what they were doing as normal, he couldn’t exactly tell Jude to back off, could he? The entire staff had stressed the importance of team morale and cohesion heading into the new season, he didn’t want to be the one to start a rift in the locker room. 

Besides…

Jude yawned, tightening his hold against Kylian's waist while whispering incomprehensible words against his neck.

Maybe he was putting too much thought into this. 

It didn’t need to be complicated. Jude has always been naturally affectionate, whether that be with his family or teammates. It was no surprise that he’d seek comfort in the only way he knew how. Kylian just happened to be the one he’d chosen, likely due to their past history together. He could live with Jude using him as a human pillow if it meant he’d perform better and help them get one step closer to the UCL. He didn’t hate the whole ordeal either, finding their arrangement also calmed him down after stressful matches. All things considered, this new quirk of Jude’s could end up being beneficial for the both of them. Sparing a glance at the man in question, who seemed all too happy and unwilling to move any time soon, Kylian found himself relaxing under the now familiar weight pressed against his body.

Heat bloomed in his stomach, thick and syrupy in the way it warmed him up from the inside. The longer he stayed here, his arms draped around a body he knew all too well, the more difficult it became to deny how much he enjoyed this. A part of him wanted to bring it up, to accuse Jude of doing everything on purpose just to mess with him. Selfishly, he didn’t want to be the only affected. He wanted to confirm whether Jude also felt a twinge inside his heart, an insect crawling in his intestines, a plea threatening to spill from his lips whenever they touched. But how could he? How could he put the unthinkable into words? When he no longer had the right to intrude into Jude’s heart and pick apart his brain.

He was content with what they had now. He had to be. Maintaining the arrangement they had now was better than nothing. It was preferable to disdain or avoidance, and in the end, Jude wasn’t doing anything wrong, Kylian was the one caught up inside his head trying to find something deeper that simply wasn’t there. He was the one being ridiculous while Jude surely had a simple reason behind his actions. If he believed something like casual affection helped to improve his performance, he'll surely start cornering their other teammates too. 

Kylian could accept that. 

Jude’s body shifted against his. 

He’d just have to make the best of what they had now.

With that final conclusion in mind, Kylian carefully lifted a hand to scratch Jude’s scalp, searching for the spot that always managed to make him melt. One he found it, Jude leaned into the touch with a content moan, and like clockwork, soft breaths began to tickle his ear. Kylian smiled lopsidedly, pressing the sleepy body closer to his own.

He could indulge Jude’s whims for a while longer. No matter if the others would accuse him of spoiling the younger. Jude wasn’t a child, he trusted the latter knew when to draw the line.

So while their unspoken arrangement remained intact, Kylian wanted to cherish what he could get.

Just for a while longer.

Everything came to a head faster than he could have predicted.

The derby proved to be a grueling match, with dirty tackles and insults thrown around from both sides. The referee didn’t help to calm down the situation, with how he seemed blind to the egregious fouls against Jude and Fede and with their midfield disrupted, Kylian was forced to drop back. But tried as best he may, the constant marking from the opposition made it impossible to keep the ball for longer than a few touches. As the minutes ticked by, he could feel frustration mounting at the team’s sloppy performance, and he was sure Jude wasn’t faring any better. Still, Kylian redoubled his efforts. They still had time to edge out a goal before the break.

The match thus continued, but tension only mounted as halftime approached. Eventually, he found himself watching in silence as Jude got into a verbal spat with Romero, both unwilling to be the first one to back down. The Argentinian seemed to know exactly which buttons to push, because Kylian had rarely seen Jude so riled up during a Laliga match. 

“You talk too much!” Jude scoffed, “When you’re with Messi, you talk a lot. But here? You’re nothing but a coward. You’re just a big-mouthed coward.”

“You cried during the World Cup.” Romero sneered back. Pointing backwards, he provoked, “Now go cry to Kylian!”

Jude paused, face going blank before he leveled Romero with a deadly stare. “Shut up!”

Kylian didn’t follow the rest of the exchange. He walked away, his head swimming with doubt. Why did Romero mention his name to insult Jude? How did he know what happened inside their locker room? Were they being that obvious?

Despite his many questions, Jude was whisked away by Mourinho during halftime, and with no way to get answers, Kylian was forced to play the second-half with a pit inside in stomach. He tried to focus his attention back on the game, but their form didn’t improve. Kylian could tell Jude let Romero’s comments get inside his head despite Mourinho’s attempt at cooling him down, and once Dean was sent off, it practically signed their death sentence. In the end, they lost 2-1, with a last minute goal by Antonio.

The whole team headed back to the tunnels together, the air thick with bitterness and frustration. Calls for the referee to get sanctioned were already being passed around, but Mourinho banned them from giving any interviews in fear of another inflammatory headline, instead urging them to head back to the Bernabeu while he dealt with the press. 

The bus ride back was silent, not abnormal after a big loss. He naturally chose a seat besides Aurélien who greeted him with a nod, his headphones on and face tight as a bowstring. Kylian was sure some part of him was worried about Fede’s ankle injury, with the way their medical staff rushed to drive him back before everyone else. Arda and Jude were sitting a couple of rows ahead, heads hung low. Kylian hadn’t had the time to talk with Jude at all. But he assumed the latter needed space. After what Romero said to him, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jude had already started to rethink their arrangement. Kylian’s guts twisted, the pit that had been sitting inside his stomach ever since half-time sunk even deeper. No matter how much he’d convinced himself earlier that their unspoken agreement was only temporary, he dreaded to hear what seemed inevitable now.

The bus soon pulled into the parking lot, the Bernabeu appearing into view. With every minute that ticked by, Kylian could feel a small part of himself slipping away. They all made their way to the locker room in silence, with their staff giving them the go ahead to rest for the day after a quick reminder to avoid the press. Kylian mechanically gathered up his belongings, watching as everyone filed out of the room and hoping Jude would pretend today never happened, but the latter was already waiting for him, leaned up against the doorframe with sharp eyes that felt like bullets piercing through Kylian’s chest. Without further explanation, Jude grabbed Kylian’s wrist, dragging him through winding hallways until they 8reached one of the VIP rooms reserved for private viewings. 

Walking through the lounge area and its flat screen TV, Jude headed straight for the bedroom. Once they sat down, Kylian waited with bated breaths, he was ready for accusations, maybe even a few insults, not for Jude to throw himself in his lap and nuzzle up to his chest.

“You made me wait too long.” Jude grumbled in lieu of an explanation. Kylian blinked, his hands naturally finding place on Jude’s waist between the stutters of his heart against his chest. Without waiting for an answer, Jude started to ramble in earnest, “Romero’s such a bitch. He mentioned you to rile me up. What a scummy bastard. I don’t know why he’s even talking, he’s absolute rubbish with the ball.”

“Hm.” Kylian hummed, the knot inside his stomach slowly untying itself.

“Can’t do shit without Messi. He talks big but has nothing to back up his loud mouth.”

“Mhm.” 

“Fucking hate his stupid face. I should’ve punched his ugly mug.”

Kylian snorted at the image and looked down, only to find Jude pouting. “Feeling any better?” He asked, not hiding his amused expression.

“Yeah…” Jude lowered his eyes, tracing slow patterns on Kylian’s shoulders. His voice lowered, and he whispered all bashful and shy, “Now that you’re here.”

The words sat between them, opening the door to a dangerous unknown. Kylian found Jude’s neck, absentmindedly letting his fingernails scratch up against his nape. They fell into a comfortable silence, a quiet calm before the storm. “You know.” He sighed, “Sometimes I wonder why you do this with me.”

Jude lifted his head from his usual spot against Kylian’s chest. He frowned, his lips jutting out and his face almost petulant, “Can’t I?”

“You… can.” Kylian smiled wryly. “I’m just not sure why you would choose me in the first place. Why not Trent or Vini?”

Jude’s frown deepened somehow, his face souring in pure disgust. “Ew. Why would you mention them now?”

“Aren’t they your friends?”

“Yeah, friends.” Jude repeated, “Why would I cuddle with them?”

“Then, what about me?”

“Huh? You’re my boyfriend and we’re dating.” Jude stated, as though announcing the most obvious fact in the world.

Kylian’s heart stopped. 

“We broke up months ago...” He choked out, the admission leaving a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

A beat of silence passed, as though the words had somehow paused time itself, before Jude shot up, his face twisting into an awful mixture of shock and indignation. “What? Are you taking the piss out of me?” He accused, his hands finding purchase on Kylian’s shoulders. “When ever did we break up?”

Feeling Jude’s mounting agitation, Kylian pressed a hand against his chest, ignoring the panic swelling inside his own. “Didn’t you start becoming all distant? I thought that was explicit enough that we were over.”

“I… what? I thought you just needed space like you always do. Retreating back into your shell and all that.” Jude’s voice trembled, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Kylian swallowed, averting his gaze. He didn’t know why he had avoided talking to Jude back then. Maybe he thought it was easier to leave with his heart intact and his head held up high. Maybe he dreaded to hear Jude explain clearly why they could never work together. Maybe he was afraid Jude would think less of him, that he’d come to the conclusion that Kylian was every bit the arrogant egomaniac the media made him out to be. Only now could he finally admit he acted like a coward to protect his dignity, ultimately driving Jude even further away. As a last pitiful defense, he weakly argued, “You didn’t either.”

“Fuck.”

Kylian closed his eyes, waiting Jude to let out all his frustration. He would deserve it, considering how selfishly he’d acted towards him.

“We’re idiots.”

Jude’s head fell on his shoulders with a dry thump. “We’re really both idiots.”

Kylian’s mouth grew dry. How was it that Jude wasn’t mad at him, even after all he’d done? It would only be natural to hate him, to never want to see his face again due to his self-centered actions. But here Jude was, baring out his heart, holding Kylian like he was close to breaking, like he was something fragile and sacred to cherish, like he needed his touch to breathe. It was incomprehensible, Jude was incomprehensible, like a moth stubbornly fluttering around a flame, drawn to what would inevitably burn him. He wanted to laugh and scream all at once. To shake the impossible man in his arms and tell him to be more guarded and less forgiving. 

Blinking away his blurry vision, Kylian pressed a kiss against the crown of Jude’s head.

“Hm. You’re an idiot alright.” Kylian’s voice shook, but he nonetheless tried to lighten the mood. “For assuming a lot of things.”

“And you are an even bigger one for not even talking with your boyfriend and just accepting the breakup.” Jude accused, pinching his sides.

Kylian snorted, “Are you pouting again?”

The pair of arms around his waist grew tighter.

“Jude?” Kylian coaxed, gently lifting up his face, only to be met with a pair of teary eyes.

“I thought…” Jude swallowed thickly, “I thought you were messing with me. We were so distant at some point and then you suddenly acted all close one second during the World Cup, so I thought it was a signal to go ahead. But then nothing changed outside of this.” he emphasized, “Thought you didn’t want to be seen with me outside of the guys. It fucked with my brain.’

Kylian stayed silent, any possible reply dissolving in his mouth. His face cycled through many emotions—shame, guilt, longing and feelings he couldn’t name—before his hands grabbed a hold of Jude’s face, tenderly tracing along the lines of his jaw.

“I don’t want to upset you again. Ever.”

“I’m sorry.” Kylian finally breathed out. His fingers brushing away the tears gathered on Jude’s cheeks. “I don't know how to make it up to you.”

“No, I’m sorry too.” Jude sniffled wetly. He leaned into Kylian’s hand, looking up at him like he strung together the galaxies and stars, his eyes shiny with unshed tears and emotions which couldn’t be defined by any word. “It was dumb for me to assume space would make everything better. And I was avoiding talking with you cause I was scared you’d admit to actually hating me.”

“I could never.” Kylian said immediately, his chest tightening at the thought of resenting, let alone hating Jude, “Not even when you were distant.”

“I missed you.” Jude admitted.

Kylian smiled, tracing his finger over Jude’s eyebrows. “I know.”

“I was miserable when we were apart.” Jude continued.

“I know.”

“I don’t think I could live without us.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying I kn–” Jude whined, before the words died in his throat as soon as Kylian’s lips met his. 

He froze for only a split second before months of restraint and built-up frustration all snapped at once. With a bruising grip on the elder’s waist, Jude flipped their position, tilting Kylian’s head back against the pillows and greedily drinking up his surprised gasp. His hands trailed all over Kylian’s neck, fingernails scratching his nape and the shell of his ear, addicted to the muffled whimpers that would answer his relentless assault. Taking advantage of his leverage, Jude deepened the kiss, forcing Kylian’s mouth open with a sharp bite against his plump lips, one he made sure was hard enough to bruise and leave behind a mark, so that no one could deny who Kylian belonged to.

Drunk on the drug he’d been deprived of for so long, Jude grabbed Kylian’s jaw in a show of desperation, pressing his fingers against his throat as his knee rose up to press against Kylian’s inner thigh. Gasping for air between spit-slicked kisses, Kylian slipped a hand under Jude’s jersey, tracing the hard lines of his toned abs as they both chased the high of tasting each other's lips. In response, Jude tightened his grip on Kylian’s neck, effectively cutting off his airflow. At the answering whine Kylian let out, Jude took the opportunity to finally slip his tongue inside. Kylian’s stomach flipped as their tongues met, a pleasant heat coiling deep inside his stomach. Somewhere along the way, Kylian felt his mind go hazy from the lack of air.

His brain short-circuited, all thoughts disappearing as his body became solely anchored to Jude’s searing touches. When they finally parted for air, Kylian almost slumped backwards, only being caught by Jude’s arms finding his back. His head still with syrupy heat, he smiled loopily at Jude’s red-bitten lips, eyes trailing the shiny string of spit still connecting them. Kylian leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.” He confessed with a final peck against Jude’s lips.

“Uh…” Jude blinked. Kylian could practically see his brain attempting to reboot itself. “Me too. I love you too. A lot”

Kylian giggled, muffling the sound against Jude's neck. “Very eloquent.”

“Shut up. That was unfair.”

“Was it?” Kylian teased, his words coming out as low purr. His finger traced the side of Jude’s lips, deliberate and slow in ways he knew would get under his skin.

Jude paused, his throat bobbing before he flipped them around to bury his head in Kylian’s chest. “I’m not playing this game.” Jude said through gritted teeth, his voice thick with need—a clear warning that things would escalate if he didn’t stop now.

Kylian relented, smiling fondly at the lapful of whiney Jude trying his best to hold back. “For the record, you played your heart out today. Everyone saw, no te castigues. I didn’t you could be this clingy after a loss though.”

“M’not clingy…” Jude whined, dragging out his voice petulantly.

Kylian let the silence stretch on, eyeing Jude’s reddening nape and impossibly endeared by the way he turned his head away to pout while only pressing their bodies closer together. It was like he wanted to live under Kylian's skin. 

“Sure you aren’t.” he said, “Ready to let go and shower then?”

Jude tightened his grip in alarm, slumping even further into Kylian's chest “I didn’t say that…”

Kylian raised a single eyebrow. “Jude Victor William Bellingham.” he chastised with a deep sigh, “We’re both sweaty and you smell like wet grass.”

“Please?” Jude looked up, his eyes wide and pleading in what Kylian knew to be his favorite manipulation tactic. “You just dropped the news that we apparently broke up twenty minutes ago. I’m not sure my heart can take another shock. Don’t you have mercy on your boyfriend?” Jude lamented, weaponizing his pitiful pout as much as humanly possible.

“Fine.”

Jude perked up. If he had a tail, it would surely be wagging. 

“Just for a while longer.”

Happy to have won the battle, Jude got back into position, pressing his cheek right beside Kylian’s heart. “I love you.”

“Idiot…” Kylian accused with no bite, heartbeat hammering in his ribcage and the my going unsaid, “Love you too.”

EXTRA:

At Kylian’s home.

“Wait, so you actually thought we were cuddling platonically?” Jude asked, his face breaking into a giddy smile, “That I was nuzzling up against your neck and napping in your lap in a super non-romantic casual way?”

“Oh my god.” Kylian groaned, “Please shut up.”

“What are you gonna tell Vini now? That we totally, casually, platonically made out after the derby?” He snickered in an annoying, high-pitched imitation of his voice.

Kylian sighed, rubbing his temples. It seemed like spoiled Jude Bellingham still had a lot to learn about the world. “...You’re banned from head scratches for a week.”

“Wait.” Jude’s frowned, smile wiped clean off his face, “Kylian no. Baby, c’mon, you know I was just messing with you.”

“...” 

Kylian headed for the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the way Jude trailed after him like a kicked puppy.

“Chéri? Mon cœur?” Jude pleaded with all the French he knew, “Please, you can’t be serious!”

Stopping before the doorframe, Kylian pushed an accusatory finger against Jude’s chest, “Don’t follow me into the shower. And call your chauffeur to drive you to practice tomorrow.” 

With that last warning, the bathroom door slammed shut with a click.

“Kylian? Sweetheart?” Jude whined, voice rising in tandem with his desperation, “Kylian!”