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“Richard!”
Richard hadn’t heard Jan drive up to the house. And he’s so engrossed in his video game that he probably missed any messages he sent before arriving. Whoops. “Oui! Ici!” He can hear Jan’s heavy footsteps as he bounds up the stairs. “Bonjour.”
Jan leans over the back of the sofa, and presses a kiss to the top of Richard’s head before playfully ruffling his hair. “Bonjour.”
“No, stop that,” Richard says, jerking away from him, and he glances back to see Jan grinning at him. "It looked nice.”
“Who do you need to look nice for?” Jan asks, dropping down onto the sofa next to him.
“Apparently not my boyfriend,” Richard says.
Jan laughs and playfully clutches his chest. “Ouch, you hurt me.”
“Mm.” Richard keeps playing the game, but he looks over at Jan again. “How is your leg?”
“Oh, it is fine,” Jan says as he rubs his thigh. It had been a little sore during training, so he’d stayed behind at Nelson Road with Gail so she could rub the muscle down for him. “I can still play well.”
“I told you that you were too enthusiastic during your flit, float, fly.”
“Anything for the coaches.” Jan brings his feet up onto the sofa, and nudges them against Richard’s leg. “Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Are you playing anyone?” Jan asks, glancing at the television.
“No, it is only kick-off.”
“Then pause it,” Jan says, nudging him again. “You’re ignoring me.” Richard pauses the game, and Jan pats his lap. “Come here.”
Richard smiles and lifts his feet onto the sofa, crawling between Jan’s legs to settle against his broad chest. “Are you sure your leg is okay?” he asks, gently running his fingers over Jan’s thigh.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Jan reaches up, brushing his fingers over Richard’s hair. It doesn’t bother Richard as much this time, though.
“Good,” he says, and he leans in to kiss him. After a moment he moves to pull away, but Jan smiles and tugs him back in, teasingly licking at Richard’s mouth. Richard moans softly, and pushes his hand up under the hem of Jan’s t-shirt. His favourite thing on Earth is football. His second favourite is probably wine. But at a very solid third is Jan, and his kisses (alright, tied with France).
Sadly though, they can’t kiss forever (they’ve tried). When they break apart, Richard inhales deeply and snuggles against Jan beneath him. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I want 200 pounds.”
Richard snorts. “Oui, moi aussi.”
“No, I’m serious.”
Richard lifts his head off Jan’s chest. “What are you talking about?”
“You owe me 200 pounds.”
“I do not!” Richard frowns, confused. He can’t even imagine what he owes Jan for. They don’t keep track of money between them; he’ll pay for dinner, Jan will pay the next time, and anything else they figure out as they go. They visited a private resort in French Polynesia the summer before, during the break, but they split that in half. “Is this because I borrowed your hoodie?”
“You did not borrow it, you stole it,” Jan says. “I haven’t seen it since.”
“You saw me wear it.”
“That doesn’t count. But no, that’s not it.”
“Then what is it?” Richard asks. “If anything, you should be paying me for the bottle of wine you broke la—” Jan presses his finger up to Richard’s mouth to shh him, and Richard swats it away. “Don’t—”
“I had to pay a 200 pound fine,” Jan says.
“So?” Richard demands. “You were late! What does that have to do with me?”
Jan tsks. “Why was I late?”
Richard cocks his head, thinking. “Hmm.”
“You remember.”
“I don’t,” Richard says. “When was it?”
“March.”
“Hmm.” Richard sits up, his hand still twisted up in Jan’s shirt as he thinks. “We played Newcastle, Crystal Palace, Liv— oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Jan grins up at him, tightening his hands on Richard’s hips.
“Liverpool,” Richard says. They’d won, 4-0. They’d both played brilliantly. Richard had scored a goal, and Jan had made the assist. They’d gone out that night with the others, but they’d spent all of Sunday in bed. And then Monday morning. And then Monday morning in Richard’s car a short drive from the stadium.
It wasn’t their smartest idea, anyone could have seen them. It was probably their greatest idea though. Except for the fact that they’d accidentally made mess on Jan’s trousers. Richard had tried to help, but when faced with the option of both of them being late, or abandoning Jan to clean up on his own, Richard had abandoned Jan to clean up on his own.
“Oh,” Richard says again, and Jan’s smile grows. “That wasn’t my fault,” he says quickly, and Jan leans up to kiss him.
“Then whose fault was it?”
“Je ne sais pas.”
“Mm.” Jan kisses him again, and then settles back on the sofa, his arm bent behind his head.
“Well, perhaps,” Richard says slowly.
“Perhaps.”
“A little.”
“Mm.”
Richard leans down to kiss Jan, and brushes his fingers over his slicked back hair. “What can I do to make it better?” he asks, voice low.
Jan groans softly against Richard’s mouth, and pushes his hands up under Richard’s shirt to dig his fingers into his back. “I have an idea.”
“Oui?” Richard nips at Jan’s lower lip and deepens the kiss.
“Give me 200 pounds.”
Richard groans loudly and rolls off Jan’s lap. Or tries to, anyway, but Jan sits up and wraps his arms around him, holding him close.
“It was your fault!” Jan exclaims. “It was your hand.”
“It was your cock.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Jan says.
Richard scoffs. “I think it matters quite a bit.”
“How much?”
“What how much?”
“How much does it matter?” Jan asks.
“I’ll give you 10 pounds and I’ll let you touch me again.”
“That’s a terrible deal.”
“Disagree.”
Jan taps his finger against his mouth as he thinks. “175 pounds, and I will let you keep my hoodie.”
“I’m keeping the hoodie regardless, so you can forget that.”
“Then 200 pounds.”
“Never!”
“Then no more sex,” Jan says. “Ever.”
“Until I give you money?”
“Yes.”
Richard smirks. “That’s an interesting next step in your career.” Jan groans, and playfully shakes Richard by his hips, and Richard laughs, wrapping his arms around Jan’s shoulders. “75 pounds,” he starts, and Jan perks up. “I keep your hoodie.”
Jan growls softly. “Fine.”
“And I will cook dinner on Monday,” Richard continues. “All your favourites.” He gives Jan a quick kiss. “Deal?”
Jan sighs as he thinks. Richard wiggles closer to him, and watches, waiting. He knows he’s got Jan won over; he’ll have all day Monday free to cook, and he makes a wonderful cassoulet that Jan adores.
“Okay, fine.” Jan kisses him. “Deal.”
“Good.” Richard kisses him again, and smiles, curling his fingers into Jan’s hair.
“Can I choose the wine?”
“Never.”