#but the companionship the chicken offered was much appreciated and very timely so he should be remembered fondly
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V(ergil)&Griffon banter is precious to me because Griffon clearly had his personality form from Vergil's memory and yearning for his brother - witty, sarcastic smartass, yet undeniably supportive and a good ally.
Even if he's gotten 'the real thing' at the end of DMC5 it's obvious he would still miss Griffon, as Griffon clearly wasn't a carbon copy of Dante either (especially given Vergil's view of Dante), he is his own beast, and those two, while connected, are not mutually exclusive.
#i am having vergil&griffon feels provoked by mutuals dammit#vergil be like#i miss my little brother he was an utter moron and an idiot but he was my idiot we had wit battles all the time and he always lost#griffon: free personality template found#its sad because you still can't really have dante and griffon exist at the same time#but the companionship the chicken offered was much appreciated and very timely so he should be remembered fondly#dmc#vergil sparda#griffon
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what it wants
word count: 12k | tedtrent, mutual pining, trent centric
[READ ON AO3]
Trent starts seeing the perfect man, so of course he wants to break up with him.
All because he can't stop pining for Ted Lasso.
Or,
It takes some work, but they get there in the end.
Unlike his past dalliances since coming out, Trent doesn’t meet Hugo Willoughby on an app.
He’d call it a proper meet-cute if he dared. He doesn’t.
.
Their meeting goes like so.
.
It’s late one evening, and Trent is running to the Tesco by his place in his rattiest band tee, his hair thrown up in a greasy bun.
Nellie is at her mother’s place tonight, and although his daughter’s absence feels like his lungs can’t expand to their full extent and he’s always one breath away from choking on air, it also allows him to get more writing done that he would have otherwise.
His bout of inspiration carried him for hours and when it left, he only then realised how famished he was, and that he desperately needed to so some grocery shopping. Hence the late night supermarket visit.
Trent is longing for a quick, easy meal before falling into bed and sleep for a few blissful hours.
He reaches for the pre-made chicken tikka masala as the exact same moment someone else does. His fingers brush against the stranger’s though neither let go of the box.
Tired and hungry, Trent turns to the stranger, ready to tell them off. His words catch in his throat when his gaze meets the bluest eyes he’s ever seen.
The man before him is strikingly handsome, sharp-jawed and golden-skinned. He’s taller than Trent and much more muscular, but with the form of someone who is naturally predisposed to build up rather than spending all his time at the gym.
“Oh,” the man laughs. “I see we both want the same thing.”
His voice is deep and warm, and it does something to Trent’s belly when he hears it.
“You can have it,” he says despite the rumbling in his stomach.
What can he say? He’s got a weakness for tall men with great voices, that much he can admit.
“We could trade,” the stranger offers. “I’ll let you have the meal, and in exchange you buy me a drink.”
Trent blinks. He wants to ask if this is a joke, because what else could it be? He is very aware of how unkept he looks at the moment, with his wild hair and unflattering old clothes. Why would anyone as stunning as the man in front of him would show any interest?
But he is being sincere, Trent can see it. He sees the appreciation in the stranger’s gaze as it rakes over Trent’s face and lanky frame.
For a moment, Trent doesn’t even know what to answer. For a man who has spent his life using words like a sword and a shield both, he struggles to come up with an adequate answer.
“Deal,” is what comes out his mouth in the end.
Jesus fucking Christ, what a repartee.
“Wonderful,” the man replies with an open air of sincerity. “I’m Hugo.”
And that’s how Trent Crimm goes home that night with a handsome man’s phone number and the promise of meeting each other soon.
.
They go on several easy dates in which they converse without effort. Whenever silence does befall them, it is comforting, the kind of companionship that comes with two kindred spirits finding each other.
This is what Trent has been missing his entire life. A man who cares for him, who understands him.
Hugo is a handsome, kind and intelligent man who has openly stated how invested he is in this blossoming thing of theirs.
If only Trent could be satisfied by it. If only he didn’t have to long for what could never belong to him.
“In the spirit of honesty,” Hugo tells him several weeks into their seeing each other, “I should tell you that I’m all but smitten with you, Trent.”
And what is Trent to reply?
“Oh. That’s– that’s great. Good.”
Anyone who ever thought of Trent Crimm as smooth – or god forbid, suave – was only ever fooled by his years of hiding his innate awkwardness. Hugo seems to find said awkwardness endearing as he smiles, fond, and pressed a gentle kiss to Trent’s lips before he returns to cooking for the both of them.
He is a perfect man.
Trent should break up with him.
He’s already broken his ex-wife’s heart by hiding his true self from her, he can’t do that to Hugo as well. What if Hugo were to fall in love with Trent, and Trent never feels for him as he deserves?
Still, Trent can’t seem to let go of the selfish part of him that’s afraid of never again finding someone who would care for him in such a way.
He wishes he could enjoy this, immerse himself in it.
Damn his idiotic yearning heart.
It’s not Ted’s fault that Trent has fallen so deeply in love with him, and yet, sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night when his insomnia keeps his eyes open and staring at nothing, Trent resents him for it anyway.
It’s always gone by the first lights of morning. Every single time it happens, Trent feels guilty for it when Ted offers him one of his genuine smiles. Of course Trent was to fall in love with Ted Lasso. How could he help it? Surely all moths are in love with the light that would burn them should they get too close.
Trent likes it. He likes how the edges of himself burn away when he is in proximity to Ted. He would lead himself to the pyre only if for a chance of another sweet smile flashed his way.
There is no place for Hugo in this melodrama, but every time Trent tries to steel himself to free the man from this mess, Hugo does something so thoughtful and lovely that Trent finds himself cowering away.
Trent Crimm must be a coward then.
He had one period of insanity that he thought was bravery in which he came out to Laura, and then later got himself fired from his job, but this did not last and to cowardice he has returned.
.
Ever since Amsterdam, Colin has taken to come by Trent’s place whenever they can manage it. Trent has gone to Colin’s twice but the young player feels more at ease somewhere none of the team could be dropping by without warning.
Michael is in Brazil for a fortnight which has the welcomed consequence of Colin being there on more nights than usual.
When Trent finally approached him in that queer bar, he never thought they would grow so close. He was expecting a single conversation to let Colin know he wasn’t alone at the club, but it’s become obvious he was in need of a friendship with another gay man.
In truth, so was Trent.
“Care for a cuppa?” he asks after Nellie has been put to bed, story read and forehead kissed goodnight.
“Please.”
Colin and Nellie get on like a house on fire. It’s amusing to see a grown man have so much fun playing with Peppa Pig figurines or completing bright animal puzzles.
Rain is continuing to pour down outside as it has all evening. Trent knows Colin isn’t comfortable driving in such a deluge. It doesn’t look like it’s going to relent any time soon, and so Trent is half-expecting Colin to crash on the sofa once again.
“Oh, before I forget,” Colin says when Trent hands him his tea. “Michael will be back next week, and he offered to host you and Hugo for dinner. We want to meet the guy, it’s been like three months since you’ve been seeing each other.”
Trent busies himself with the biscuits he’s gotten out – proper British ones – although he only breaks one in half without taking a bite out of it.
The silence stretches out.
“Trent?”
“I might call things off with Hugo.”
“What?” Colin exclaims. “Why? What happened? Has he done something? I though things were going good.”
“They are! He is great, perfect even,” Trent is forced to admitted. “Attentive, kind, funny.”
“So why do you want to break up with him?”
Colin’s brows are furrowed in confusion and worry both. It’s clear he doesn’t understand why Trent would want to break up with such a lovely man.
“I wish I could tell you,” Trent confesses. “Hugo is a gem of a man, and he’s made it clear he is smitten with me.”
“Smitten?” Colin repeats, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Well, yes. That’s the word he used, at least.”
Trent brushes off some dust off his sleeve, though he suspects even a microscope wouldn’t have revealed it. He is slightly uncomfortable with this barring of his emotions but there’s some relief, giddiness even, at being able to speak so openly.
Despite being closer than ever with his ex-wife, he and Laura don’t speak much of their respective romantic endeavours.
“What’s the problem then?”
“I don’t feel anything,” Trent comes clean. “I mean, he is handsome, I’m not blind, and I do appreciate the times we’ve been spending together, but that’s it. It’s missing something.”
“There’s no spark.”
“Right.” He pauses. “Perhaps it is too much to expect for me, and I should satisfy myself with it.”
“Hey, don’t say that,” Colin cries, looking offended on his behalf.
“Let’s be serious here, I’m nearing fifty, I came out when I was already middle-aged. Trust me, there aren’t a lot of men throwing themselves at me. Hugo is great, I should be happy. I should like him, so why am I still waiting for more? Why can’t I ever be satisfied? I’m always striving for perfection and it’s ruined so many things for me.”
He interrupts his rant with a strangled sound, as though choking his own words down and shoving them back down his throat and deep behind his lungs where they could never see the light of day.
Perhaps Trent isn’t as ready to open up as he thought. His skin is scrawling from saying so much uncensored, and he wants to burrow in the darkness and forget any of this ever happened.
Old habits die hard, it seems.
“I think it’s normal that you want something great,” Colin says kindly. “Especially because you came out so recently. You’ve been waiting for this your entire life. Of course you’re not going to be satisfied with something that doesn’t make you feel alive, you know? You should be in a relationship that makes you feel amazing.”
Trent’s mind, the traitor, flashes to Ted, and he closes his eyes, pained.
“I’m afraid there’s no chance of it.”
Silence follows the statement.
“Is this because you have feelings for the gaffer?” Colin asks hesitantly.
Trent’s eyes bolt open to find Colin looking at him with sympathy. He feels his face falls, then his cheeks redden before he pales, skin ashened by his mortification.
“It’s fine, mate,” Colin continues, gentler and definitely more awkward for having brought up the subject without warning. “I didn’t notice you signalling with the rainbow mug and whatever, but now that I know you like blokes, it wasn’t hard to pierce it together.”
He hesitates for a moment before deciding to continue on.
“You love Ted, don’t you?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” is the answer that rushes past Trent’s tightened lips.
“Come on,” Colin insists, too kind still and it makes Trent’s skin crawl. “This doesn’t have to be a one-way thing – us, I mean. I know you see yourself as some kind of mentor, and I guess it’s true in a way, but I’m here for you too. We’re friends, yeah?”
The tightness growing around Trent’s heart releases its hold, if only for now. That’s what Trent has always done, hide himself away behind the coldness that inhabits him until it all but defined him. He was Trent Crimm and he was distant.
He doesn’t want to be that Trent Crimm any more. It was a lie, at least some of it. Yes, he can be cold but that’s only because he was made to smother the fire that forever burns inside of him, so much so that he forgot it was there. It always was.
Meeting Ted reignited it until it burned through all the layers of the jaded, cynical journo until there was nothing left but the real Trent.
He now walks with his flesh flayed, his true skin exposed for all to see. It would be tempting to cover it again, except he knows the price one has to pay for such a cloak. He has paid it too long.
For nothing in the world would Trent go back to that version of himself. Oh, he will never be Ted Lasso level of enthusiasm and endless positivity, but he’s not as aloof now. Gone is the tension that resided between his shoulders blades for the past thirty something years.
Trent Crimm is a man reborn.
This newness makes it all the more fragile, he finds himself unsure of how to stand in this new world. He clings somewhat still to the coldness because that’s all he’s known for so long, but then he goes and rants to Ted about Total Football, and wonders if he will ever know how to be neither ‘not enough’ or ‘too much’.
He wants to reach out. He wants to laugh if he finds a joke funny, he wants to tell the jokes himself without overthinking if he should and end up letting the moment pass.
Fuck, he just wants to be himself. And yes, he can admit, that means also opening up to a new friend because they asked.
“We are friends indeed,” Trent confirms.
“Then talk to me. I don’t want you to think you can only listen. Truth is, I’ve never had a mate like you, you understand what it’s like to be in this environment and to be gay. I don’t have gay friends even, and no one I’ve ever hooked up with was into football. Michael tries but he doesn’t get it, not really.”
“I’m not a footballer.”
“But you’ve been around the lot of us for a long time, you know what it’s like.”
Trent can only agree with the statement.
“So?” Colin insists. “The gaffer?”
A sigh escapes Trent, although it’s more show than any proof of aggravation.
“So what if I do?” he grits out, then sighs again as he feels resignation take hold of him. “It’s hopeless.”
“You love him, right? It’s not just a crush.”
“I don’t do crushes,” Trent bristles. “But yes, it’s more profound than that at any rate. Not that it matters.”
“You never know,” Colin tries only to be stopped by Trent raising his hand.
There must be quite the retched expression upon his face because Colin makes a move as if to hug him, but Trent flinches and Colin stops. Trent has to look away, unable to stand the look of sympathy he finds there.
“Don’t,” he rasps. “I don’t need pity.”
“Jesus Christ, mate – it’s not pity! We’ve just established we’re friends. Sorry if I don’t like to see my friends in pain.”
Feeling chastised, Trent bows his head down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, just talk to me.”
“Right,” Trent sighs. “It’s true, I do have romantic feelings for Ted, but it is hopeless. After all you’ve heard him – he’s straight.”
Colin hums, pensive.
“I don’t know,” he says, articulating each word slow. “I said I was straight many many times before in my life, and I never meant it. I think you did too. So you never know.”
“Don’t. Don’t even try. I can’t deal with such false hopes.”
After all, it’s the hope that kills you, isn’t that what people say? Trent can’t handle entertaining the idea that Ted could ever be interested in him, it’s much easier to deal with his own sorrow in a most private manner.
One day it will cease to hurt. It must.
“You should tell him,” Colin says. “Because if you tell Ted and he rejects you, then you’ll know and you’ll be able to move on and you won’t have this what-if hanging over your head.”
“I can’t tell him.”
Colin bites his lip and lets the silence linger. Trent’s biscuit is nothing but crumbs under his fingers. He hasn’t taken a bite out of it.
“So you break up with Hugo but you never confess to Ted. That’s your plan?”
“I don’t have a plan,” Trent snaps, lashing out because he’s hurt out of habit. He deflates right away, shameful. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“No one knows what they’re doing, that’s why we got a team to have our backs.”
Trent huffs. Having a team, here is a concept he isn’t used to. Soon anyway he will be leaving Richmond. He will keep in touch with Colin, of that much he is certain. Their bond is too vital to each of them to let something as pesky as distance tarnish it.
The rest of the team, however – Trent has no illusions. Oh, they would be happy to see him if they ran into him, they might even reach out once in a while but even that would only cease given enough time.
And Ted –
Trent doesn’t want to think about Ted disappearing from his life.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you are in love with Ted, and I think you need to deal with that one way or another. I don’t know if you should break up with Hugo, but you’re steering him on a bit, no?”
Colin pauses, allowing for Trent to say something but Trent has nothing to say.
“Hugo’s falling in love with you and he’s thinking that so are you, but you’re not,” he resumes. “You are still hung up on another bloke who you are so sure you have no chances with. So you think you have to satisfy yourself with the first guy who showed interest in you, and it’s not fair to Hugo.”
“I know it’s selfish,” Trent mutters. “That’s why I said I would break up with him.”
It’s not something that Trent wants to hear, but it is something he needs to hear from someone that’s not himself.
He knows all this and Colin is right, and Trent is being selfish. Hugo does deserve better.
“But what happens if you never stop being in love with Ted? What if this is like this for always? Are you going to pine for him and do nothing about it? Can’t be in a relationship because you love Ted, but can’t be with Ted?”
There are so many thoughts whirling through Trent’s mind that he can’t begin to make sense of them. It was easier when he buried all of them, focused only on his work and the goals he made for himself. It was easier to deny every want and need of his, and slap over them the expectations demanded of him.
It’s harder being oneself, but it’s so much more fucking rewarding.
Trent pushes away the need to retract into himself, and accepts the confusion.
“What are you saying? That I actually should try and stick it out with Hugo?”
“Listen, I don’t know. If you stay with Hugo though, you need to accept that you can have happiness even if it’s not what you had in mind for yourself. Getting in a relationship with someone doesn’t start with love most of the time, just a good feeling. The love comes after. Perhaps you’ll learn to love Hugo too.”
Trent reaches for a tissue to wipe his hands off the blasted biscuit. He is sure that if he were to try a bite now, it would only taste like ashes on his tongue.
“You know,” Colin ventures, “you say you’re selfish for all this, but I don’t agree.”
“No?”
“Like, you have the right to be happy, you know? It’s normal that you can’t let go of Hugo because he doesn’t want to let you go either. Now Ted… I think it’s selfless. You love him, completely, but you don’t expect anything at all from him. You aren’t asking for anything in return. There’s beauty in that, I think.”
“Whenever did you get so wise, Colin Hughes?” Trent jokes to hide the rising emotions such words provoked in him.”
“You must be rubbing off on me, boyo.”
They are family, but there isn’t a neat little box they can shove this friendship in. Colin isn’t like a son to him, they aren’t quite brothers either. They are something that defies definition – they are Colin and Trent, two widely different men united by some common existence.
“I appreciate you,” Trent says, borrowing the words of the man he loves.
The conversation trails off after that.
What else is there to say? Trent needs to make a decision either way.
To stay with a man who cares for him despite Trent’s own lack of passion, or to long for a man who could never love him back, remaining alone and miserable for however long it took to get over Ted Lasso.
Colin does sleep on the sofa that night, and when Trent brings down a blanket and pillow for him, Colin wraps him in a brief embrace.
At least, Trent thinks as he hugs his friend back, he isn’t quite so alone as he used to be.
.
Trent thinks about it for the next few days.
He hasn’t a date planned with Hugo till the next Sunday when Nellie will be at her mother’s. Hugo hasn’t met either of them yet though Laura has been asking about it more and more lately.
It’s the first time Trent has been dating a man for so long, and she’s happy for him. Still, he can’t bring himself to burden her with his doubts and hesitations.
Hasn’t he burdened her enough?
It’s selfish to keep dating Hugo, yet that’s what Trent does.
Now, however, he will pour all of himself in this relationship, try and be the partner that Hugo deserves although he knows he never will be.
Trent can move on from Ted. He can, he will.
He can bury his feelings for Ted Lasso and pretend that this time, it’s different because it’s for his own happiness. Trent is not falling back into tried flaws, he is not. He is merely adapting old strategies for a new play.
One can’t full one’s stomach with crumbs. Trent hungers for more, and he starts wondering if perhaps there is truth to it – why shouldn’t he have the love and companionship so many praise? So what if it’s with the person he dreamed of?
He can live with it. Thunder and lightning, it’s all overrated. With Hugo, Trent can make a life for himself and for his daughter. He needs to stop wanting for the impossible and satisfy himself with what he’s got.
It’s already more than he deserves.
The heart wants what it wants, but Trent has a mind also and he will force it to quiet the pathetic yearning of his aching, ever-beating betrayer of a heart.
He can choose who to love. He is choosing Hugo.
And if it’s the rational choice, then so be it.
.
It’s early one morning and Trent and Hugo are getting ready for the day.
Hugo is looking as handsome as ever in nothing but pants and his vest, the heavy muscles of his legs and arms on full display.
The smell of coffee caries through the entire flat and brings with it the promise of a new day.
They are both sitting at the table, Trent doing last week’s crossword all the while aware that he will never have the patience to finish one. Hugo is busy reviewing documents for a meeting he will have in the afternoon.
His job as a budget analysis isn’t the most exciting, but it’s well-respected and well-paying. Even Trent’s ever-demanding parents would find no protests against it.
The bubble of quiet is shattered by Hugo clearing his throat. Trent abandons his crossword readily, but when he takes in the not quite serious but cautious look upon Hugo’s face, he straightens.
“I’ve been thinking,” Hugo starts slowly. “Maybe I could come to training sometime?”
In an occurrence that happens all the more often these days, Trent finds himself speechless.
“Not today, or not anytime soon,” Hugo adds, “but I’d like to see where you work.”
Not anytime soon, like he plans on staying in Trent’s life for a long, long time. He says it easily, as if it’s obvious to him that he shall be here months from now. Years even.
The offer is made without pressure or expectation. Hugo is giving all the power of decision to Trent who can’t think of a reason to refuse – except for the shameful fear that bringing his boyfriend to Richmond will make the hopelessness of his feelings for Ted all the more real.
And that’s exactly what Trent needs.
After all, he has given up on Ted, he has dug a hole into the remnants of his broken heart and hid all his longing so that no one, not even himself, could take a peek at it.
“Yes. I’d like that.”
It’s not quite a lie, but it’s not exactly true either.
It makes Hugo smile anyway, a bright beautiful thing tearing at his lips.
“And when I’m there, what will you say to your friends about me?”
It’s still undemanding, still nonjudging, Hugo only want to know so that he can be ready for it.
“I’ll tell them we’re boyfriends, will I not?”
Despite himself, Trent finds himself blushing. Boyfriend, what a word to use at forty eight years of age, but it feels right. Yes, said boyfriend won’t be the man he truly loves, but it’s still a euphoric eureka to think that he’s allowed this.
He’s allowed to bring a man to his workplace and introduce him as his boyfriend.
It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.
He will learn to bury his feelings for Ted, and from that will grow new feelings for Hugo. This love might never be as all-encompassing as the torch he carries for Ted Lasso, but it will be true nonetheless.
Hugo beams again, and this time Trent feels a flutter of something deep in his belly, brief but there.
.
Pretending that he hasn’t feelings for Ted is easier said than done.
The flutters of Trent’s heart refuse to cease despite all his great determination and stubbornness. His heart has a mind of its own, clearly, and will not back down.
All that Trent can do now is to stifle the yearning as it comes up, and if he tries and takes some distance from Ted, no one should notice.
It’s hard though to resist the orbit of Ted Lasso. Trent’s gaze is ever drawn to him, his ear always tuned to that Kansas twang. His brain picks apart every interaction that they have, analyses every smile and every look.
It’s pathetic, it’s what it is – to love and want a man so, a man who acts with Trent the same way he does with everyone else.
Trent isn’t special to Ted.
And when they’ll go their separate ways, Ted will not miss him.
.
Trent is coming back from a lunch break shared with, surprisingly, Rebecca.
It took some time for Rebecca to warm up to him which was to be expected. After all, Trent worked as one of the enemies for many years, albeit he never criticised her for anything but her handling of the club once it belonged to her.
Once she did accept Trent in her circle, they came to the conclusion that both of them shared some common interests and personality traits.
They have similar tastes in art, and know a lot of the same people. Mainly though, they gossip.
As soon as Trent walks into his office, Ted calls after him.
Helpless to resist the summon, Trent struts to the door that separates the two spaces and props himself against the same drawer he always does.
“What can I do for you?” he asks, knowing his face is softened beyond words though unable to stop it.
“It’s not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you!” Ted replies with his usual megawatt smile. “The Diamond Dogs and I are doing a little meet-up at the Crown and Anchor tonight. Of course, you’re invited, being one of us.”
“I’m not a fucking Diamond Dog,” Roy cuts in.
“Right, Roy isn’t,” Ted amends, “but he’s still coming.”
Trent wants so badly to accept the offer, not even just because he would love to spend the evening in Ted’s company, but because he is proud to be a Diamond Dog as foolish as it may sound. He likes being a part of something.
Too, he is afraid of the day he will no longer be a part of it, a day that grows ever closer with the season nearing its end.
“Ah,” Trent breathes out. “I would have loved to join, but I fear it won’t be possible seeing as I have prior engagements.”
The smile slips out from Ted’s lips, a frown settles instead upon his brows.
“But I thought you didn’t have Nellie on Thursdays.”
“No, I don’t–”
“You’ve got a date,” Beard interrupts, eyes narrowing and gaze unreadable.
Trent feels trapped all of the sudden. He wonders if he should lie but the slight blush that takes over his cheeks betrays him before he can make up his mind.
“Oh, he does,” Roy says, sounding amused. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“What does that mean?” Trent shots back, insulted.
“No, there,” Ted intervenes and Trent’s gaze snaps to him. “Of course anyone would be lucky to go on a date with Trent Crimm, Independent.”
Ted doesn’t appear overjoyed at the idea however. The smile that’s back in place now appears somewhat forced and unnatural.
Could it mean–?
But no.
Trent strangles the half-formed thought. He knows Ted has been hoping to settle down, it’s envy only, not jealousy, that darkens his expression.
“How long have you been going out?” Ted asks, still hesitant and awkward.
“Some weeks now,” Trent replies although it’s not quite correct.
“Weeks?!”
Ted isn’t the only surprised at the answer, both Roy and Beard are now frowning at Trent too.
“Now, we do really need to meet this mysterious date.”
“They could come tonight,” Beard offers, a mysterious edge to his voice.
“Oh, I don’t think–” Trent tries but Roy cuts him off again.
“Yeah, we can vet them.”
The conversation is escaping Trent entirely. Gone are the days where he used to command an entire press room just by stating his name, or maybe he never was able to deal with personal interventions the same way and merely avoided them.
“We don’t need to vet anyone,” Ted says to his fellow coaches with a pointed look before turning to Trent again. “We’re happy for you. Your date is one lucky person.”
It’s not insincere but there’s an added layer of meaning for which Trent doesn’t a dictionary to translate.
He’s missing something and he doesn’t know what.
What he notices is the choice of gender neutral term, and he wonders if his rainbow mug hasn’t gone as unnoticed as he thought. He almost blurts out the three words that have been crashing against his lips for so long, but he can’t bring himself to come out just yet.
“If you say so,” Trent mutters instead.
“I do say so! Anyone should be over the moon to have a date with you, Buttercup.”
Then, why won’t you do it?
No, Trent admonishes himself. He is happy with Hugo, he truly is.
If he says it enough times, perhaps he will start to believe it.
.
Another week passes and nothing changes, except for the strange glances he keeps Ted throwing at him.
These mean nothing at all and so Trent will not read anything into them, though he does burn them to memory.
The voice in his head that sounds too much like his ex-wife Laura is taunting as it reminds him of what an imbecile he’s being.
That too, he can ignore.
.
It’s not like Trent doesn’t know that Hugo was planning on dropping by AFC Richmond to observe training. They have talked about it, Trent has agreed to it.
Still, when it happens, he is startled.
Stranding in his usual place, close to the doors that lead to the locker room, Trent has his notebook resting on the handrail as he scribbles down observations and such.
“Hello handsome,” a familiar voice comes from behind him.
Trent jumps. His notebook scatters to the ground, drawing the attention of several players as well as the three coaches. He throws them a smile he hopes to be reassuring, although he is certain it probably looks stunted.
When he turns, Hugo is smiling at him with a bemused but fond look. He is holding two cardboard cups from Trent’s favourite coffee shops.
“Hugo,” he breathes out. “Hi.”
“Is this okay? You said it was, but I can leave if you’d rather.”
God, he’s so thoughtful and caring.
Trent doesn’t deserve it, he never has.
“Of course it’s okay,” he tells him. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we?”
“We have indeed, but I’d have understood if you’d changed your mind.”
“Well, my mind remains unchanged,” Trent replies and immediately cringes at his own ineptitude.
He catches Colin’s gaze who’s warming up out on the pitch with the other players.
Good job, boyo, he seems to convey silently. You weren’t lying, that’s one good-looking man indeed.
Some amusement slips in through the old panic, and once again Trent thanks the powers that be for the friendship with this incorrigible youngster.
“I need to go,” Hugo says, dragging Trent back to the moment.
“Already?”
“I’ve got an important meeting today.”
“With the new client, yes, I remember.”
“I knew you paid attention,” Hugo teases. “But yes, I really can’t stay. This wasn’t planned in fact. I do want to see the place and meet your colleagues, but I couldn’t resist coming to say a quick hello.”
“It’s appreciated,” Trent says and it is.
He might not be in love with Hugo, but he does like him.
A smile tugs at Hugo’s lips, and his gaze drops to Trent’s own lips for the briefest of instants. If Trent hadn’t been looking so intently, he would have missed it.
Oh.
Hugo is leaving. He wants to kiss him goodbye before he does, but he won’t initiate because he knows Trent isn’t out at work. He won’t ask either.
Fear seizes Trent, but he forces it down. He thinks about Colin who may never get to kiss his fella after a match, who doesn’t want to be a spokesperson. Who just wants to live freely.
And then Trent thinks about himself, and the long journey it took him to get to this point. How much suffering he endured because he shoved himself deeper and deeper in the closet.
“Come here,” he whispers.
“Are you sure?” Hugo asks just as low, understanding the meaning of the unsaid words.
Trent can’t speak, he can only nod.
Slowly as to allow Trent the chance of pulling away or changing his mind, Hugo leans in closer and closer until there is no space at all between them, and they are kissing.
It’s a chaste press of the lips but with it comes crashing down the last of Trent’s walls.
When they part, the first thing Trent sees is the blissful look on Hugo’s face.
The second thing is Ted Lasso staring right at him.
Ted snaps his gaze away when their eyes meet. Before he does though, Trent catches the blankest expression he has ever witnessed on the man. His heart skips a beat and it has nothing to do with the kiss he’s just exchanged with Hugo.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hugo asks.
Right. Another date.
Trent nods, forces a smile and keeps his eyes on the retracting form of his boyfriend, not quite ready to face the new reality he has opened here at AFC Richmond.
“Oi.”
For the second time today, Trent jumps out of his bones.
Roy grunts his greeting and before Trent can start spiralling in fear, he declares with all the gravity he can muster,
“If anyone gives you shit about this, send them to me. I’ll deal with it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Roy continues. “This is a safe place and shit.”
Unburdened for a moment, Trent laughs and laughs and laughs until there are wild tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, but even then he keeps on laughing.
Roy is looking at him with alarm and – yes, Trent isn’t mistaking it – concern, and the sight of it only redoubles his laughter.
What even is his life that he came out to the entirety of the Richmond team and its coaching staff by kissing his boyfriend goodbye in front of them? And that Roy Kent would come to make sure he knew he would be safe and protected?
It takes a few minutes for the laughter to subdue.
“Do you,” Roy starts looking like all his teeth are being pulled at the same time, “do you want to talk about what the fuck this was?”
“No, Roy,” Trent replies, still high off the incredulity and crashing adrenaline. “I’m quite alright. But thank you.”
“Right.”
After Roy leaves, Trent finally turns his attention to the field. All the players are looking in his direction and don’t seem to care at having being caught.
There are some expressions there that he can’t decipher, but most of them, including Beard, offer Trent a nod – a simple way of letting him know that they have seen him, and they won’t have a problem with it.
Dani Rojas waves, smiling as wide as ever, and Trent can’t help the chuckle that comes out.
A few others smile at him, among them Sam and of course Colin – Colin whose eyes are shining with pride and joy.
The only person that won’t look at him at all, is Ted.
.
The day goes on as it does.
None of the team gives him any reason to run to Roy. In fact, they act around him as they always do, albeit Trent is the receiver of a definite higher number of friendly slaps on the back. Jamie Tartt even hangs off Trent’s shoulder at some point as if it’s something he does every day – which is definitely is not.
It’s nice all the same.
Trent would be overjoyed, basking in this easy acceptance, were it not for Ted’s utter lack of reaction.
The silence is telling, it is deafening, and Trent thinks he could drown in it.
But for all his journey toward self-betterment, he’s still Trent fucking Crimm and Trent Crimm gets the truth.
If Ted Lasso, in spite of all his talk of acceptance and tolerance, turns out to be a homophobe then Trent will wash his hands off him.
Will lights up when he sees Trent making his way toward the locker room, and opens his mouth to say something.
“I don’t have time for this,” Trent snaps, settling back in his journalistic prick skin.
He will have to apologise for it later as he, in fact, quite likes the young kitman, but right now, Trent is a man on a mission.
He marches into the coaches’ office, his gaze narrowed on Ted, and ignores Roy and Beard to stand right before Ted.
“Do we have a problem?” he snarls.
This time, it’s Ted who jumps.
He looks up at Trent with large, stunned eyes. His mouth falls open but none of his usual chatter comes out.
“Do we?” Trent repeats, his voice lowering dangerously.
“No,” Ted answers hurriedly. “There’s no problem, Scouts honor.”
“Then why the hell haven’t you been able to look me in the eye since you’ve seen me kiss my boyfriend this morning?”
A terrible mix of emotions run through Ted’s face – shock, horror, regret, but no anger, no disgust.
“Trent,” he says, retched. “I swear to you, I swear that I don’t have any problems with you dating a man. I swear.”
“Then what is it?” Trent asks, the anger deflating, replaced by tiredness.
Ted glances at Beard before returning his attention to Trent.
“I was jealous,” he says with such honesty it’s hard to look at him. “I saw you kiss him, and I was jealous.”
“Because you’ve been wanting to be in a relationship as well,” Trent finishes.
Ted’s face returns to blankness.
“For fuck’s sake,” Roy swears in his office.
“Right,” Ted admits though it’s lacking conviction – admitting to envying a colleague’s relationship would do that. “That’s right on the money, George Clooney.”
“So there is no issue about me being gay?” Trent has to ask.
It’s the first time he’s saying the words out loud to someone that isn’t his ex-wife, and it feels liberating though terrifying.
“There’s no issue,” Ted confirms, softly.
The last of Trent’s fury bleeds out of him. His shoulders sag in relief and his jaw unclenches.
When he looks around at the office, Roy and Beard are nowhere to be found.
“But now that we’re talking about it,” Ted starts, standing up, “I just want to say that it was a mighty brave thing you did out there.”
“We don’t have to do this.”
“But it was, and I applaud it. May we were all as brave as you.”
Trent chuckles drily. He isn’t feeling very brave right now, only old and weary and yet still elated.
“So, it’s serious then,” Ted ventures. “You called him your boyfriend.”
“I did, yes.”
“And he’s good to you, this boyfriend?” Ted asks, his voice drops softer than the situation warrants.
Trent matches his tone all the same, “He is.”
Ted’s eyes shine a strange, indescribable glint before they settle on somehow dimmed, though sincere.
“That’s good, Trent. You deserve it.”
“Do I?”
The words fly out his mouth before he can even think about stopping them. His mind is a world away from all thoughts of Hugo. Trent can’t be thinking of the man he is dating, not when Ted is standing so close to him.
Never would he cheat, but the burning desire to kiss Ted stupid is still there – not that Ted would want such a thing, of course. Why must Trent always need to remind himself of that?
“Of course you do, buckaroo. You’re– you’re a good person. You deserve all the good things.”
“So do you, Ted. You most of all, truth be told.”
There is something that Ted hesitates to say. Whatever it is, Trent doesn’t get to hear it.
The team returns to the locker room chattering and the moment is broken.
Wordlessly, Trent goes to join the boys. He needs some distance from the confusing man that is Ted Lasso and the mess of feelings he evokes in him.
He joins the team just in time to hear his name said along plans for the next year.
“Next year?” Trent echoes, oddly moved by the assumption that he should still be around then. “I won’t be there next year.”
“What? Why?” several of the players exclaim.
“Aren’t you happy here, Trent Crimm?” Dani asks, a sad twist to his brows.
He is, that’s the thing. But he can’t tell them that.
“I’m writing about this season,” he explains instead. “I won’t be around after it’s over.”
Murmurs of disappointment and dejection rumble through the locker room, and Trent feels his throat close up. He isn’t used to people wanting him to stay – even at the Independent, his colleagues did nothing more than tolerate him. He was polite enough with them, but held them all at a distance for fear that they would see through him.
Here though, Trent has allowed the truth of himself to shine through and these people have accepted him. They had no reason to even trust him, let alone like him, and yet they do.
He doesn’t know what to do with that.
He’s still reeling from his silent coming out to the team just that morning, then his strange conversation with Ted, and this much camaraderie might push him over the edge and well into tearfulness.
“So what are you going to do after?” Sam asks, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Trent admits.
“You can’t just go and write about another team,” Jamie of all people says, disdain clear at the thought. “Who’d you even follow? Crystal Palace? Pfft.”
“Right, you’re our ex-journo,” Isaac declares.
“I am touched,” Trent says and he truly is. “However, I can’t forever stay at Richmond.”
“Why not?”
“My editor wouldn’t like it, for a start. I mean, how many books can one write about a single team?”
“Huh, eleven at least,” Jamie points out, waving to the numbers written on top each their compartments.
Why is Jamie so determined to keep him around, Trent doesn’t know and frankly doesn’t have the energy to explore such an enigma.
It’s great. He’s found a place where he belongs, where he can be truly himself, and where he’s liked for all of him.
And he will be leaving all of that soon.
And then he will be alone again.
No. Not alone. He will have Nellie and Laura, and he will have Hugo, and that will suffice.
.
Hugo and Laura get along well.
Trent can see that his ex-wife is easily charmed by his boyfriend, and the three of them enjoy a nice evening together. They haven’t brought Nellie yet, Trent tells himself it’s because he wants Laura to approve of Hugo first, but in reality it’s because he isn’t ready to take that step.
Having his boyfriend meet his daughter would make it too real.
He really is trying but he’s still nowhere near in love. Butterflies haven’t batted their wings for Hugo yet, but they do continue make a ruckus when Trent catches sight of Ted.
Bloody bastards, those butterflies.
The restaurant Trent has picked is lovely, the Lebanese cuisine so excellent it reminds him of his grandmother’s cooking, the atmosphere intimate without being too quiet.
Toward the end of the meal, Hugo excuses himself to the bathroom.
As soon as he is out of earshot, Laura turns her attention to Trent.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands.
“I’m not doing anything,” he protests.
“Trent, I love you, but you need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
Laura breathes in sharply through her nose the same way she used to do when they were about to have a fight.
“What have I done, now?” Trent says flatly. “I thought you were liking Hugo.”
“Oh, I am. But you’re not.”
Trent freezes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolds him though not unkindly. “I know you, Trent, and now that we’re divorced, I see you for all that you are, and what you’re being right now is a wanker.”
“Laura, I don’t know what you think you’ve deduced from three hours spend together, but I can assure you I like my boyfriend just fine.”
“That’s my point! You like him, you don’t love him though.”
“What about it? We haven’t been together that long.”
“How long did it take you to fall for the gaffer?”
A quick look toward the bathroom ensures Trent that Hugo isn’t on his way back yet.
“You’re doing to him the exact same thing you did to me,” she continues relentless. “You’re using him as a plaster because you can’t face what you truly want.”
“Laura–” he starts, chocked.
“I’ve forgiven you already,” she cuts him. “I’m not here to have this conversation again, especially not here and not now. But you need to realise what you’re doing.”
Trent catches sight of Hugo, beautiful, lovely Hugo, walking back toward their table.
“Stop punishing yourself,” Laura whispers, gentler than he has a right to have it. “Stop settling, and go for what you want.”
There is no time to expand on it after that. Hugo rejoins them and the evening keeps on, although Trent speaks little and thinks much.
.
“You’re alright in there, Fred Astaire? You’ve been out of it today.”
It’s a testament to how lost Trent is in his thoughts that he doesn’t startle at the sudden presence behind him.
Instead, he slowly turns around to face Ted who is looking at him with a slight furrow to his brows. The office is empty again but for them, something that seems to be occurring more often these days for some strange reason Trent can’t explain.
“I’m fine,” Trent lies.
“You say that and yet I’m sensing an underlying vibe of ‘not fine’.”
Trent knows he should answer, even if only a movement of his lips in the approximation of a smile. Yet he can’t. The tempest of his mind drags him underneath once more, and he drifts to notions he swore he would forever ignore.
Hugo hasn’t met Nellie yet because Trent hasn’t been ready to make the introduction. Why is that so? Why can’t he bring himself to have the man he’s been dating for over three months meet his daughter?
Is it because he isn’t ready or is it because he knows the relationship has no leg to stand, and he doesn’t want Nellie to become attached to someone that will not last?
Nellie has met Ted though. It was an accident, back when Trent was still a journalist at the Independent, and they did not stay long. No matter how short the moment, it showed without the shadow of a doubt how splendidly Nellie and Ted got along, something that only deepened the longing that Trent wouldn’t acknowledge for months still.
Ted remembered to bake her biscuits for a birthday, and has done so every year since then.
He asks after her and listens to Trent as he rambles about all the wonderful things his daughter does, and then he remembers every single of them.
“Trent?”
Trent drags his gaze upward again, unaware of how long he was staring unseeing at the wall behind Ted.
“I’m alright,” he repeats. “I slept badly last night, that’s all.”
With that he means that he did not sleep at all, forced awake by the raging in his skull and chest.
“If you say so,” Ted says but still searching for an unvoiced answer in Trent’s eyes.
That’s when Trent takes notice of Ted’s position. The American is still standing but he’s got a hand on Trent’s desk, the other on Trent’s chair, and his chest is leaning forward toward him.
He’s all but surrounding Trent, boxing him in his seat.
It’s not threatening, quite the contrary in fact. Trent’s blood hums with anticipation – of what, Trent couldn’t tell, but it’s there all the same.
That’s when everything changes.
Ted’s gaze falls to Trent’s lips. Ted’s tongue darts to wet his own lips. He looks up, meets Trent’s gaze and – oh.
This is wishful thinking, Trent thinks with growing desperation. He’s imagining the heaviness of the gaze.
Yet, all logic goes all the window right there and then, and, unthinking, Trent inches forward toward Ted, his lips parting, ready to–
Trent’s rainbow mug drops to the ground.
Ted jolts back.
Trent’s heart is hammering in his chest, wrecking him beyond recognition. What is he doing? What was he about to do? What was he thinking?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Thank God for carpeted floors,” Ted jokes, voice high. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
“I don’t think so, no,” Trent replies, a million kilometres away.
Neither men make a move to pick it up.
“Alrighty then!” Ted exclaims. “I should go and check on Beard, you know, just doing my rounds.”
“Of course. Right.”
Ted makes finger guns at Trent, blinks, and then he’s run out the room.
“Fuck,” Trent swears out loud.
Shame threatens to choke him. What the fuck is he doing? He would have kissed Ted if the mug hadn’t dropped to the ground.
It doesn’t matter if he’s imagined the moment or not, if Ted looked at his lips because he wanted to kiss them or merely because a movement caught his attention.
Of course it was the latter, but it does not matter.
Because Trent forgot all about Hugo and what kind of arsehole does that make of him?
He’s known, he’s always known deep down that he will never be able to love Hugo. It was all a charade he pulled up to hide again, always hiding, always seeking the truth but for his own. Trent will never love Hugo, he will never love anyone else because his heart belongs to one man only.
Trent will always love Ted.
And it hurts because Ted will never love him back, but perhaps he has no right to hope for happiness, especially not after what he’s almost done.
He has hurt so many people in so many different ways – as a journalist, as a husband, as a son, a friend, a partner.
What is it with him that he should break everything he puts his hands on?
But he can free Hugo from him.
.
Laura agrees to taking Nellie for the night without protest and without question.
Her look is knowing though when Trent drops their daughter off, and Laura stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to his temple.
“It’s going to be alright,” she promises him.
It won’t, but Trent appreciates the sentiment.
And that’s how Trent Crimm finds himself knocking on Hugo’s door at eight o’clock on a Wednesday evening.
“What a lovely surprise,” Hugo welcomes him, moving away from the entrance so that Trent can walk into the house.
Trent remains rooted where he stands.
“We need to break up,” he blurts out without fineness
He regrets it as soon as he says it, not for having said it though. He knows he’s pulled this off for far too long. He only wishes he could give Hugo the grace that he deserves, if not all else that he does.
“Oh,” Hugo breathes out, wounded.
“I’m sorry.”
It should be a crime to make such a man appear so small. Hugo is larger than life, his smile brighter than all the stars, and yet he now looks crestfallen, tired beyond his years.
“Come on in then,” he sighs.
Hugo leaves the door open and turns around, walking down the corridor that Trent knows leads to the kitchen.
After a moment’s hesitation, Trent follows after him.
By the time he makes his way to the kitchen, Hugo has gotten out two glasses of wine and has filled them with his favourite white. Trent doesn’t care much for white wine, it’s too sweet for him, but he takes the glass and swallows a large gulp anyway.
“Can I ask why?” Hugo breaks the silence. “Have I done something–? I mean, this is all so very sudden.”
“You were perfect,” Trent admits brokenly. “It’s my fault. I was never fully devoted to this relationship because–”
The words bubble up in his throat where they make him choke on his shame and self-hatred.
“I have feelings for someone else,” he forces himself to confess, willing his soul to bear its final judgement. “Unrequited as they are, mind you. It’s unfair to you either way, and I am truly sorry.”
Hugo puts down the glass he was carrying it, his movement slow and deliberate as if moving his body would help him gather his thoughts.
“It’s Ted Lasso, isn’t it?” he asks. “The person that you’re in love with.”
It’s not said accusingly, though Trent would endure it.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Pause. “I’m sorry.”
“You can’t help who you love.”
If only, Trent laments. But then again, would he really change his feelings even if he could?
Loving Ted has given him so much. It encouraged him to live his life as himself, and helped him find a place where he has found friends, unexpected as they may be.
Having his love unrequited might be a blessing in disguise. If Ted is never his to begin with, then he never will have to lose him.
“I’m sorry,” Trent says again.
“I won’t lie and say I’m fine about this, but I am not angry at you, Trent.”
It would be easier if he were. If Hugo had snapped at him, gotten mad at him, then Trent could have pretended that breaking things off with him was the right thing to do, but he can’t and it’s not right to expect that coward’s way-out.
Hugo truly is the best of them all, and Trent has never deserved him.
“I’ve tried,” Trent tells him. “I really wanted to love you, but I know you will find someone who will give you the world.”
“I hope your American will give it to you.”
An inelegant snort frees itself from Trent. He finishes downs the rest of his wine before straightening his spine.
“I should go,” he says.
Hugo nods, his handsome face clouded in sadness.
Together, they walk back to the door where their journeys will part. Trent will walk away from the warmth of Hugo’s doorway and into the cold, dark streets of the city.
“If you ever change your mind,” Hugo whispers. “Call me? You never know what could happen then.”
Trent can’t answer, there is a sorrow inside of him that eats at his lungs, at his guts, devour until there won’t be anything else but an empty skeleton of regrets and guilt.
Silently, they reach for each other for one last kiss.
The door is closed before Trent has climbed down the stairs.
.
It’s a few days later and Trent hasn’t told anyone about his break-up with Hugo.
He almost does it several times. Beard calls a Diamond Dog meeting for some issues he’s having with Jane, and Trent can’t help but tell him he should just stop seeing her forever because she is ‘nothing but bad news’.
It’s a little biting, but Beard merely hums at it, contemplating.
No one has been so blunt about it, if the startled looks the others throw him are any indication. Trent has really come to like Beard and he will be damned if he remains silent a moment longer.
Before the meeting is called to an end, Ted asks if anyone else has something to share. Trent keeps quiet.
He can recognise his hypocrisy, thank you very much.
It’s a different situation, there is nothing anyone can do for him and it’s not like he would be able to explain the entire situation to them anyway.
Meeting adjourned, Higgins trots back upstairs after one last pun that makes Ted giggle, and Trent opens the door between the two offices even though they all know Roy can and does hear everything they say and never actually leaves.
“Trent,” Ted calls.
Trent turns back, raising an eyebrow as question.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, is your boyfriend – or partner, do you prefer partner? - you know what, I’ll use his name, that was my bad. Is Hugo coming to the match on Saturday?”
“No,” Trent replies before hesitating. “We broke up.”
This catches the attention of all the coaches. Under their stares, Trent fidgets with his glasses, wishing he had his mug to hide behind.
“Did he do something?” Roy demands, his gaze narrowing.
Trent blinks in confusion. It hits him, then, that Roy is ready to get angry on his behalf and that, should Trent ask, he would go and commit act of violence for him.
It’s as touching as it is terrifying to have made it on the list of people Roy Kent would fight for, in as many definition of the words.
“No, he did nothing wrong,” he is quick to correct. “As a matter of fact, I was the one to call things off.
“Why?” Ted cries, shocked. “I thought he was great.”
“He was, he truly was great. Probably too great for me.”
“Bullshit,” Roy says. “You’re alright now that you aren’t being a prick all the time. And you’re hot in a dorky way.”
Trent stares, unsure how to process this.
“Thank you,” he replies though it comes out more as a question. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but it’s more complicated than that.”
“How?”
Who would have thought that Roy Kent would be pressing Trent Crimm to be forthcoming with his emotions so that they could discuss them? If anyone had told Trent so even a few months ago, he would have laughed in their faces. He isn’t laughing now.
“We can call Higgins back down,” Beard offers.
“No, it’s alright. There’s no need for another Diamond Dog meeting.”
Ted is strangely silent.
“Go on then,” Roy insists in his gruff way that’s only to hide how caring he actually is.
Trent should wave the concern and the questions off. There’s learning to be honest and then there’s baring his soul to these peculiar, incredible men.
He finds that he wants to though, and so he stops resisting and gives himself over willingly.
“Did you know,” he starts but trails off.
It never comes easy, opening up, but he’s been made one of theirs and they have shared their utmost personal thoughts and feelings with him present, the least he can do is to offer himself up, fully.
“I was in the closet most of my life,” Trent tries again, staring at nothing. “Married a woman even, although I knew. I was a bachelor for most of my life, hiding that I was gay to everyone that mattered. Then I met my ex-wife and I thought I could just will the way the gay away, that I could finally be the person that everyone wanted me to be.”
No one speaks up when he pauses to gather his thoughts. He appreciates it. He doesn’t think he could resume talking if anyone said anything at the present, or he’d lose the courage.
“Now that I’m out, I realise I don’t know how to be loved like that. I was always alone. As a child, I was peculiar and I didn’t have many friends. Later in my life, I never knew how to truly connect with people. That’s why I became a journalist, I suppose. That way I could get others to answer the questions they never would have otherwise.”
And isn’t that a joke? His work only pushed more people away, but he was writing and he was writing about football, and surely that must have been it. Just another thing to bury.
“I don’t think I know how not to be alone, not like that anyway. Being in a relationship, it’s not in the cards for me. What I want, I can’t have– it’s alright. I’ve got my daughter, that’s all I’ll ever need.”
“But you want to be loved like that,” Beard says, the first one to talk.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Sure it does,” Roy chides. “That’s a stupid fucking thing to say.”
Ted says nothing still. Trent won’t look up.
He feels foolish all of the sudden, and the urge to flee seizes him.
“I’m getting some air,” he announces and escapes before anyone can stop him
.
Sitting in the stands, Trent lets his gaze rake over the empty pitch.
The end of the season is drawing closer and after the book is completed, he will be free to do anything that he wants. He hasn’t come any closer to a next step.
He might just free fall into the abyss, there’s a plan.
Movement by the pitch draws Trent’s eyes.
Ted looks at him, still for a moment before he takes a decision and starts climbing up to him.
There are hundred of seats around Trent, and yet Ted plops himself right next to him, so close that their tights are now touching.
You should tell him, Colin’s voice echoes in his head. Because if you tell Ted and he rejects you, then you’ll know and you’ll be able to move on and you won’t have this what-if hanging over your head.
And Laura said, stop punishing yourself. Stop settling, and go for what you want.
Perhaps it’s time to listen to the advice.
After all, there is one last thing Trent needs to unburden himself with if he truly wants to free himself of all his old shackles.
“I’m going to tell you something,” he says without looking at Ted, “but I need you to promise me you will not intervene until I’m done.”
“I won’t,” Ted swears. “I’ll admit I’m something of a chatterbox, but I’m a darn good listener too.”
“I know you are.”
Trent breathes in, and on into the plunge.
“I’ve always known I was gay, from a very young age in fact. At university I would go on dates with women to assuage the questions from my peers, but I’d sneak alone at night to gay bars to feel alive.”
He’s lost in the memories now, all these things he never should he would get to share with anyone.
“I thought I could go on like this forever,” he continues, “and it worked for some time. After I joined the Independent, it was both easier and harder. Easier because I didn’t allow myself to grow close to people and so they didn’t have to learn anything about me, and harder because my parents grew increasingly demanding about why I was still single and not giving them grandbabies.”
Ted remains quiet, as promised, but he presses his leg against Trent’s, a silent show of support.
“When I met Laura, she pursued me. I liked her from the start because she was wickedly smart and charismatic, and I forced myself to think that the friendship I was feeling for her could be love, that it could be enough for a life together. I couldn’t tell her the truth then because I couldn’t say it to myself either.”
Trent recalls their first kiss – how wrong it had felt but for the familiarity of her. Laura is his soulmate, but he could not admit at the time that it was platonic.
“I knew I was gay, but I buried it. I avoided thinking about it. I stopped going to gay bars, I stopped having meaningless flings with faceless men. I loved her and told myself it was enough. I didn’t allow myself to think about what type of love I was feeling for her. We got married.”
Ted reaches wordlessly for his hand, reaching for him through the sea of memories to anchor him in the present.
Trent squeezes with all his might.
“She proposed as a matter of fact, and I should have told her then, I almost did. She became pregnant, and I was overjoyed. I never thought I’d want to be a father but it’s the greatest thing that ever happened to me. For Nellie, I would do it all over again, if only it meant that I’d have her.”
He can’t help the smile at the thought of his daughter. Little Eleanor, named after his favourite father’s mother, the brightest light in his life.
“Still, I broke down one day. I couldn’t keep the lie up any more. I told Laura I was gay. She didn’t believe me, she thought I was lying to divorce her, and it was awful. I was still so paralysed from decades of self-repression that I found myself unable to find the words to explain the truth of who I was to her.”
Trent catches his breath before turning to face Ted whose big brown eyes are set upon him, kind and attentive.
“And then I met you, Ted,” he confesses. “I met you and you were uncompromising about who you were, you didn’t care what people thought about you, you just did it and lived your life. And that inspired me. I came out to Laura a second time after our day together for your profile, and that’s when she believed me. She’s the best friend I ever had, and without you I might have never been able to repair our relationship.”
Ted smiles, softly, touched.
But there’s one last thing to say.
“I love you, Ted Lasso. I am in love with you.”
Trent could have expected Ted to remove his hand from their hold, but he knows better than that. Even in this, Ted will be kind.
“Can I talk now?” he asks, gentle.
Trent waves his other hand hand, allowing it. The rejection is incoming and truthfully, he can’t wait for it. He is a man with his neck exposed to the guillotine, and the expectation of the steel is killing him more than the blade ever could.
At least it will be swift.
“I think you got some things about me wrong,” Ted confides. “I’m not always honest with myself. Actually, I’ve been hiding stuff from myself for a long time. Stuff I didn’t want to take a too close look at, you know. Probably why I have to deal with my anxiety and panic attacks now.”
Trent opens his mouth, ready to apologise once again but Ted clicks his tongue.
“It’s my turn to talk, Trent, plus we’ve already had this conversation several times. I’ve forgiven you for the article, and we are all good.”
He pauses again. Trent doesn’t try to speak.
“So yeah, I’ haven’t been quite all honest with myself. I– well, I even lied to you before because of it. The truth is, I’m bisexual.”
The world around Trent comes to a screeching halt.
“When I told you I was jealous after I saw you kissing Hugo, you though it was because I wanted a relationship like that, and in a way that wasn’t wrong. But I was jealous because he was kissing you. I want a relationship like that with you, Trent Crimm. No one else. And I started acting like an ass because I thought it was too late, I’d missed my chance.”
Trent is gaping at Ted who laces their fingers together.
“I’m in love with you too, if that wasn’t clear. And if this isn’t too late, I’d like to ask you out on a date.”
“Yes,” Trent utters through his maddening joy. “Yes, I want to go on a date with you.”
When they kiss at long last, Trent feels all the butterflies in the belly, the fireworks on his skin, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, everything he has searched for.
It’s all in this, this kiss, this man, this love.
Trent has been lost in the darkness for so long but he’s come home at last, in the arms of the one for whom his heart sings.
They were right then, when they sang on that bus in Amsterdam.
Everything is going to be alright.
.
.
The atmosphere in the locker room as the team gets ready to play the final is electric.
There’s their shot at winning the whole fucking thing, it is in their grasp and they all trust, all believe they can do this.
This is the final and whatever happens next, Trent will have no reason to hang around at Richmond any more.
This is the end.
This doesn’t worry him.
Finally he sees, it’s also a beginning.
He now knows that he will never be alone again.
Trent has Nellie and Laura, always, and now he also has Ted. He sees also that he has Beard and Roy, even Rebecca.
And Colin won’t be the only Greyhound to stick around in his life. For some unfathomable reason, a place has been carved for Trent into their team and they do not let go so easily.
Trent Crimm can’t predict the future, and he can’t change his past.
Right now though, he is happy and in love, and that’s all that matters.
“Richmond on three,” Isaac shouts his rallying cry.
“Richmond,” Trent cries as loud as the others.
What a joy it is to be free.
#tedtrent#tedependent#trent crimm#ted lasso#ted lasso fic#tedtrent fic#this took me so long but it's done!!!!#don't forget to reblog please please if you read it#this took me three weeks i won't lie#my writing#userceci
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Mirrors and Fruit
A commission for @hyperfashionist that they waited far too long for.
An au where hannibal is not a cannibal and is actually nice to people.
Can also be read here if youd like to give kudos or comment!
also thank you to @grahaam for betaing. and @jadegreenworks for the advice! and to @avidreadr2004 for encouraging me!
Friendship is a profound thing. It sneaks up sometimes, nestling itself. Making itself comfortable in the corners of your mind, slowly taking up more room. It was beginning to occupy a whole room of Hannibal’s mind palace. It’s occupant was a troubled, ornery little man that showered little and ate even less. It was not the kind of friend Hannibal envisioned having. In his mind palace, his friend would be much like him. Perhaps even a mirror of himself . If this was a mirror of himself, it was a funhouse mirror. Distorting himself into something he surely was not.
Hannibal had been patient with Will. More patient than anyone had ever been before- much to Will’s disdain. Despite his best attempts, his snappy remarks and attempts to shove him away, Hannibal had just smiled patiently or given him a quick retort. Hannibal tended not to be a patient man, contrary to what is expected from a psychiatrist. There was something special happening to Hannibal. In all his reserved, disconnected, surgical precision. He was becoming attached. A foreign but not unwelcome concept.
He’d invited himself over for dinner at Will’s house. It was dirty and the dogs were hairy, but it didn’t seem fair that Will was always the one to make the drive from Wolf Trap to Baltimore. He’d brought his own ingredients, not trusting what he might find in Will’s pantry, or more what he wouldn’t find. If only there was a feasible way to bring one’s own stove as well. Will’s was disappointingly but unsurprisingly pitiful, hardly holding a flame. He made do, noting the film of dust that had settled on it.
“A microwave connoisseur?” he asked, smiling softly. Will seemed embarrassed, and he rubbed his stubbly chin absently,
“Unfortunately not. It’s just as dusty.” He avoided his eyes as he spoke, and Hannibal just nodded slowly. If he didn’t use the stove, or the microwave. What was he using? “I’m not starving. Don’t worry. I just tend to eat out, order in… or just skip it.” Hannibal made a face. All of those choices were disgusting.
“That’s not good, Will. Diet is important.” Before he could continue, with an anecdote or a story, Will cut him off,
“I don’t need the lecture, thank you. Some nights my appetite is off.” He drank his dinner some nights. After long days where his thoughts were scrambled, and he lost who he was. “Is it cold in here to you?” he asked, rubbing his arms absently. Hannibal assumed he was trying to change the subject, until he saw him physically shudder. Without a thought, he reached forward and felt his forehead.
“You do feel warm.” he noted, “Have you been feeling well?” He wasn’t aware he had invaded his space until Will ducked away. Hannibal was ignorant to his need to feel Will’s flesh against his own until his hand was left empty. A small, worried expression just faintly tilted his features down.
“I’ve been feeling... “ There was a pause, and Hannibal waited patiently. Always patient. Drove Will insane. He had to decide whether honesty would be his best policy. “I haven’t been feeling myself. Like I’m fading.” He admitted, noting to himself it was quite a dramatic way to put it. Hannibal just inclined his head in thought, before nodding once.
As he began serving them plates, he looked to Will, “Perhaps some Tylenol for now, for the fever.” Hannibal recognized Will’s natural scent, but something heavy hung within it. It was a sickly, sweet smell. Fever, but something more than that. Inflammation, but he couldn’t smell exactly where from at his current position. It was difficult enough to get physically close to Will. Though as of recent, their personal bubbles were becoming smaller. Chairs moving closer, standing side by side at the ghastly crime scenes. Hannibal sometimes irrationally felt they should be holding hands.
Will had complied, and took his tylenol. “You shouldn’t be here, if I have a fever. I could be contagious.” He murmured in his sad little way. A tone that told Hannibal he wanted him to stay, but out of politeness, or perhaps fear, was asking him to leave.
“I don’t think you’re contagious, Will. You aren’t coughing, or sneezing. Besides I can boast of a very adept immune system after working in a hospital for years.” He offered him his plate, and watched him go sit in an armchair near the coffee table. What human-being didn’t own a table? Though Hannibal figured if you basically lived through filter feeding the air, it really wasn’t necessary, now was it. It still shook him to his core.
“Perhaps I will buy him one…” A surprising thought, that he quickly tucked away. Although he did sometimes splurge on others, it wasn’t often. Certainly not on patients. Their doctor-patient relationship was quickly dismantling into something else though.
Talk was cheap over their food, and then a long silence settled over them. Will continued to shiver on occasion, and Hannibal kept a close eye on him. He’d be setting an appointment for him with a specialist. His fingers had a firm grasp still within the world of medicine, and it wasn’t difficult for him to pull a few strings to get prompt care. He figured it was no different if it meant care for a patient of his.
--
Life had never dealt Will Graham the fair hand. Almost every decision in his life had lead to roadblocks and further sinking into the mire. Sinking sand. A fun fact about sinking sand, however, is that you don’t sink very much at all. In fact, it’s unlikely you’d sink farther than your waist. You can get plenty stuck, but you won’t truly drown in it. That was the state of Will Graham’s life. Waist deep in the sinking sand of his mind, his condition. Trudging along for meager scraps of food and water. Little tidbits of happiness and peace.
He had learned in the jungle of his mind that low hanging fruit was often poisonous. If it was easy to reach, it was too good to be true. The best fruit, was hard to reach. Maybe impossible. He was unaware that not only was the best apple hanging low, but disguised as an obstacle.
Hannibal invaded his space, touched his things, made faces at his dogs, silently chastised his living conditions. Hannibal did all the things Will Graham hated. Yet, he wasn’t pushing him out. Giving him ‘subtle’ signals it was time to go. No mentions of it being late, of the dogs needing to be walked or other nonsense. Despite what could be marked an awkward silent. Nothing but the sound of metal against porcelain to break it. The truth was, despite the intrusion. The judgement. He liked that the chair beside him was occupied. The space was filled. He felt he could feel the energy buzzing beside him, a warm glow against his face. In his imagination, in his own mind palace, that is how they looked. In a sense it could be said that Hannibal was radiant.
It helped that the food was good. The food was always good. He ate it even when he wasn’t hungry. He ate it when he was even feeling sick . Perhaps it was his need to please. Perhaps he was so desperate for some companionship that he would subject himself to a sore belly. Or maybe it was that he was hungry a lot more often than he would admit to himself. Whatever the case. The food was good.
“It’s good.” Will finally said, just for the sake of breaking the silence. This seemed to please Hannibal, as he settled back in his seat a bit more.
“Thank you, Will. Roast chicken with fennel Panzanella. Not my most complicated meal.”
“I appreciate that. My palette hasn’t been able to handle much recently.” It was half of an admission. He hadn’t been eating, except for fast food and on occasion, some noodles. He was assuming it was from the strain of work. He was going too deep, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to get back to the shallows. He knew he could reach for Hannibal. He could, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t need help. He wasn’t intaking water just yet.
--
He should have made the phone call by now. His pride kept him from it. He fidgeted with the phone, then fidgeted with his schedule. He checked one more time at the page with Will’s name on it. Will was missing. Late actually. He was now twenty minutes late. He was always prompt, early usually. Missing. He finally picked up the phone. He should have just charged his insurance for a late fee. Failure to call. Something. But no, instead he called. His brows furrowed in worry as it rang. He got a full mailbox. Not surprising, Will was that type of person not to ever check his voicemail, and not pay attention to if it was full or not. He tried once more, then went to start the paperwork for a late penalty. He pulled out the forms from his desk, and stared at them. He was holding the pen over the paper, but he didn’t let it touch. Something wasn’t right. He set the pen down, and abandoned the papers. He got his coat, and headed out.
On his way out of the office, after locking up, he called Jack. He didn’t know where Will was either. He would start his search at Will’s house. It would be a long drive. It could be for naught He needed to try. It would turn out he wouldn’t have to bother. As he unlocked his car, a very flustered looking, sweaty Will was rushing towards him.
“I’m late, I’ll pay the fee.” Will said, obviously embarrassed about his tardiness. Hannibal gazed at him, and he would have probably given him a snipped remark. He didn’t. Will wasn’t wearing shoes. He had no jacket. His feet were covered in mud.
“Will, what have you been doing?” He asked cautiously, watching him shiver. Was it from the cold outside, or from the fevered heat he could smell rolling off of him. It couldn’t wait anymore. He started back up to his office, and Will followed, stumbling out an explanation.
“I was at my house, with the dogs. I let them out. I heard something in the woods. Like one of them were hurt and then I-” he stopped abruptly mid sentence, in realization. “I don’t know what happened after that. I must have driven here. I don’t remember.”
Hannibal listened, then nodded. “Will, I’m calling a doctor. He’s a friend of mine. He will help.” Will recoiled at the thought. He didn’t like doctors. He was poked and prodded enough growing up. He didn’t want anymore. But he was really falling apart. Taking in water. He had to reach for Hannibal.
He quite literally had to, stumbling on a step, and falling into him. Hannibal caught him in strong arms, swaying just slightly on the steps.
“Arm on me.” Hannibal ordered, in a way that made it seem Will didn’t have a chance at arguing. He put his arm on his shoulder, and they made it the rest of the way to his office. Hannibal gently set him down, then got his phone to make his call. He pulled some strings, called in some favors. Despite it being well after hours for his friend, they would be meeting him within the hour at the hospital.
--
Will was still reluctant to go. He was arguing against it. If one could even call it an argument. Hannibal hardly spoke, just gave orders.
“I’m not getting poked and prodded.” He announced stubbornly, even as Hannibal prepared Will’s file to be taken with them, records of his descent into what Will felt was pure madness. Hearing voices, sounds, losing time, waking up with police lights blinding him.
“You won’t be poked and prodded. You will have an MRI done, and if that is inconclusive, some blood tests.” He explained. “Now, please draw a clock for me.” Will’s eyes rolled childishly, but he drew the clock. For some reason he felt cocky about it. Draw a clock, what a stupid thing to ask. He drew a regular old clock, or at least what he thought was a regular clock. He was unaware it was completely distorted, hardly recognizable if it weren’t for the numbers jumbled together. Hannibal tucked his clock drawing in his file he was preparing. “You are very sick, Will. You can refuse treatment, but I can’t advise it. I would appreciate it greatly it if you would accompany me to see this doctor. He is very professional, and is renowned for his skill.”
Will usually wasn’t a fan of bargaining. He could sense Hannibal’s urgency though. He felt compelled to give in. He was silent for a few moments, rubbing his scruffy face in distress. He didn’t want to go, but he wanted to. Well, he wanted to please Hannibal. Not for the greater good, or because it would save someone’s life. He just wanted to make him happy, though he hesitated to admit it to himself.
“Fine, I’ll go.” he relented finally, and for a brief moment he could see the relief all over Hannibal’s face and whole body. His shoulders relaxed, a soft sigh left him, and his face softened.
“Thank you. We should go then. I will drive.”
“Don’t trust my driving?”
“It’s important I stay honest with you, Will. I don’t trust you are capable of driving right now. No.”
With a melancholy smile, he nodded, “I get it. Fair enough.”
--
Hannibal met Dr. Sutcliffe at the door, and he ushered them to the MRI room. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Hannibal.” he reminded him, which of course made Hannibal smile.
“Of course, thank you for your time. I can tell you, it will be worth it.” He reassured, glancing to Will. He was looking pale and tired. He felt bad for him. He felt compassion despite all his training to disconnect. He couldn’t disconnect from Will. He was becoming attached.
Once in the MRI room, Hannibal gently walked Will through the process, but it seemed he was aware of how it worked already. He would have to pry later.
“You still haven’t told me what you think is wrong with me.” Will’s head turned to him as he adjusted himself in his lying position. Hannibal met his eyes, and his gut jumped. They were filled with fear. Vulnerable and open. He reached to grasp his hand, holding it tightly in his own. Will didn’t recoil, but instead squeezed it.
“It’s nothing I won’t fix.” He reassured. He finally realized what was happening to him. Something he thought himself incapable of. After losing so much, and learning to be disconnected from his emotions, for both his surgical and psychiatric career. It was inconvenient, unprofessional. It completely broke every code of ethics. He was falling in love with his patient. He was falling in love with Will Graham.
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Alone no more: People are turning to dogs, cats and chickens to cope with self-isolation
Working from home and unable to go out, people are bringing home dogs and cats for companionship.
By Kim Kavin and Heather Kelly
March 20, 2020
On a normal Sunday at the PetSmart in Gaithersburg, Md., Lucky Dog Animal Rescue would hold an adoption event and find homes for about 15 dogs.
But as coronavirus news started to spread this past week, the waiting list skyrocketed from 10 to 40 would-be adopters. “And we had 30 adoptions in three hours at that event alone,” said Mirah A. Horowitz, the rescue’s executive director.
Forget toilet paper, milk and hand sanitizer: There’s now a rush to stock up on real necessities, such as cats and dogs. And rabbits and fish, and even a couple of chickens.
As schools close and millions of people across the United States work from home, the promise of companionship even in a time of isolation is prompting some to take in animals. Many say they finally have the time to properly train and care for a new pet. Animal rescuers across the country say they are seeing spiking interest in adoption and fostering, as well as offers to help everywhere from open-admission shelters to smaller nonprofit groups.
In California, where 40 million residents were ordered on Thursday night to stay home except for essential jobs or trips, such as getting groceries, Gov. Gavin Newsom (D) noted an important exemption.
“You can still walk your dog,” he said.
That was part of the appeal for Kathy Shield, a University of Berkeley graduate student. After years of wanting a dog, Shield on Thursday adopted a 2-year-old brown-and-white dog from the Milo Foundation shelter in Point Richmond, Calif., and named him Atom.
“I’m a nuclear scientist, so it’s very on brand,” said Shield.
The timing was ideal, because Shield is working from home and can help Atom adjust to his new environment. She’s also excited to have someone to talk to, even if he doesn’t have much to say back.
Plus, it will help keep her on schedule. “Having a dog is going to force me to get up early in the morning, because at an absolute minimum, I have to let it out to pee,” Shield said.
Should I keep the new dog's shelter name (Benny) or rename him?
The decision to adopt pets flies in the face of some conventional wisdom that discourages adding a new animal to a household during a stressful or busy time of the year, such as the holidays. But the novel coronavirus has created an almost parental leave-like situation for many people — where, instead of dealing with a sleepless newborn, they’re teaching a dachshund puppy not to chew on the ottoman.
“There’s no question that animals provide incredible comfort and companionship, especially during times of crisis — and they certainly appreciate the attention — so we encourage people to continue to adopt or temporarily foster animals in need,” said Matt Bershadker, president and chief executive of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, in an email.
Shelters need the help. Some animal rescues in big cities are closing their doors to help prevent the spread of the coronavirus between people, but the animals still need to be cared for. Many organizations, hoping to find foster homes for their remaining charges, are still processing requests and handing off animals while closed to the public.
Animal Care Centers of NYC — an open-intake shelter that received about 21,000 animals last year — put out a call for additional foster homes on March 13.
“We thought we’d get 50,” said Katy Hansen, director of marketing and communications. “We got 2,000 people who filled out the application.” The vast majority, Hansen says, are millennials who live with a roommate, have no kids, and are either working from home or suddenly out of a job.
“They most likely have a job that makes them work 14 hours a day — people don’t come to New York City to start a family,” she said. “They come to kick-start their careers. Now, they’re home, and they still have that super drive and super ambition. Now, they’re just pointing it toward helping animals.”
The ASPCA says it’s seen an increase in people interested in fostering and adopting animals in recent weeks, and it’s managed to find temporary foster homes for most of its animals.
2DaRescue, a nonprofit in Mesa, Ariz., has experienced a 30 percent increase in adoptions and a 100 percent increase in fosters since the coronavirus crisis began. In San Francisco, where residents have been ordered to shelter in place since Tuesday, Muttville Senior Dog Rescue has adopted out 10 dogs already this week, and all the dogs found foster homes when it closed.
The Helen Woodward Animal Center in Rancho Santa Fe, Calif., found a new home for 51 dogs, cats, puppies and kittens last weekend, up from a typical 33.
“We were all saying, ‘Oh my gosh, what a weekend,’ ” said Jessica Gercke, director of communications. Most of the applicants, she said, worked at schools in the area, which had been closed.
At the Humane Rescue Alliance in Washington, president and CEO Lisa LaFontaine said thoughts have turned to the center’s 90 partners that transport homeless dogs up north from crowded shelters in at least 15 southern states. Her group is helping some create foster programs, as northern shelters are less able to help.
Fostering also works well for those who can only help out during this uncertain period.
Maya Dangerfield knows her job as a video producer is usually too busy to accommodate a pet. So she and her husband decided to foster a dog while working from home in Astoria, Queens, instead. They picked up the poodle-mix named JWoww from Hearts & Bones Animal Rescue on Thursday evening and will be able to watch her as long as they have to stay home — at least another two-and-a-half weeks.
“I’m not getting sick of my husband yet, but it’s nice to have a little doggy. Just someone to hang out with,” Dangerfield said.
It isn’t just dogs. People are bringing home all kinds of living creatures for companionship during an unprecedented time of social isolation, and they’re sharing photos on social media to provide a break from darker news.
Pets can also entertain younger family members at home — Kenneth Lynch and Lauren Wakefield bought a blue-and-silver betta fish for their two young children to help instill a sense of responsibility with feeding it and cleaning the tank. His name is Freddy.
This will help their son “occupy some of his time in a more healthy manner” while he‘s home from school, Lynch texted.
Some people are getting animals for more practical reasons.
“We’re kind of stuck at home, grocery stores are empty, and now we have these chickens that are laying eggs for us,” said Kelly Bordas, a physical therapist, stay-at-home parent, and new chicken owner in Oviedo, Fla.
Bordas and her husband purchased their first two chickens recently and named them Daisy Duck and Mabel, though they’re not always sure which is which. They live in a coop on the family’s three acres of land and have been a source of entertainment as much as food (they lay one small egg a day each). Their young daughter helps take care of the new arrivals.
“She loves them, she always goes out there and she wants to pet them. She wants them to be her best friends,” said Bordas.
For Julianna Caplan, the coronavirus scare was the perfect time to finally give her 13-year-old twin daughters the dog they’d been begging for. The whole family is home from work and school, so on Sunday, they went to the Homeward Trails Adoption Center in Fairfax Station, Va. Within hours, the family adopted a 30-pound, 2-year-old blue heeler.
They named the dog Pepper Corona — for her gray-and-white patches of fur, and for her entrance into their lives during this moment in history.
“It feels good to adopt, and the kids are happy. It feels like the right thing to do now on a psychological level,” Caplan said. “I look at this dog and say to her, ‘I don’t know what your past has been, but your future is about to be awesome.‘ ”
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Casual Affair
Just a little something I wrote for Shaw Appreciation Day. Sorry if it’s not great; it was done on a whim.
Title from Casual Affair by Tonic.
2012
Cole brings her scotch and whiskey, extra soap bars, and two extra-large containers from the Chinese place down the street, his arms full to bursting when he walks through the safe house door. Shaw sits at the table, in jeans and a tank top, cleaning her guns, and if his eyes linger on the muscles outlined by the incandescent kitchen lighting… well. It was just because he was appreciating them and not pining. Definitely not the latter.
“If you keep staring at me like that I’ll choke you with your orange chicken.”
The Chinese gets set by her right shoulder, a peace offering. “Two of those are for you,” he says, shrugging off his jacket, “because you eat as much as a bull.” He collapses in the chair opposite Shaw with a sigh, his sore muscles sighing too, in appreciation. “You get any word yet about what time the flight is tomorrow?”
“6 AM,” Shaw replies, putting her Glock back together after giving the pieces one last round with the polishing cloth. It shines like it’s new, glinting pleasantly. Maybe that’s part of Shaw’s appreciation for weapons, seeing how nice they look, but also about how good they feel. She treats weapons with the respect and care of an old friend, something fascinating. “Which means packing everything up tonight and rising at four.” (She was one of those people who liked to be so on time to things that they were actually early.)
“Right.”
Shaw drinks the scotch straight from the bottle. She proffers it to him but he declines. He’s taken to not drinking often, only every once in a while. Bad experiences at MIT, including hearing about the death of a friend from alcohol poisoning just before a major exam. This, of course, he’d told Shaw, who’d absorbed the information and didn’t make comments about silliness. It’s one of the many things he likes about her: she doesn’t pry for information or tease and instead lets him tell her things when the time is right.
“You gonna eat the rest of that?” Shaw jerks her chin towards his box, still with a little fried rice with soy sauce left in one corner, a few pieces of orange chicken in the other. He slides it over to her and the rest of the food is gone within a few large forkfuls. She cleans up the dinner mess while he packs away computer things and dirty laundry, weapons and cleaning kits. Shaw has even less belongings than he does and Cole wonders if it’s a result of her time in the Marines or if she was just raised to be a light traveller. He doesn’t touch her suitcase or laundry after moving them to Shaw’s side of the king bed—the side closest to the bathroom.
When night has properly settled over the world and music plays from somewhere down the street, at one in the morning, they lie wide awake, each on their side of the bed but bare feet touching underneath the covers. Sometimes he thinks of the missions and everything that went right or wrong and how they could’ve done something differently to make the outcome favourable, or more so. Shaw knows this too. She’s the only one he trusts with that sort of stuff, anyway, always logical about the situations, never really losing her cool. Other times he thinks about the numbers, how Research knows about all of them, where Research gets the intel. Humans? Computers? Something else entirely?
He wants to ask again but instead he switches topics. “Ever been to Germany, Shaw?”
“Once or twice, back in the Marines days,” Shaw replies. He can’t see her much in the dark room aside from a faint outline of her head and shoulders, facing away from him. “Didn’t stay for very long, a handful of months at a time. Always on the move.” A pause. “I wouldn’t try to be so much of a tourist while there. Rumour is this one’s going to be a little more dangerous.”
The mattress shifts and buttons are pressed, Shaw setting an alarm that will wake them up at 4 in time to get to the airport and fly back to Washington, D.C. to report the findings and the outcome in greater detail. Then it would be off to Germany for heaven knew how long, a few days, a month.
“Sleep well, Shaw,” Cole murmurs, and is asleep before he hears Shaw’s reply.
2017
“Isn’t this nice?”
It’s mid-March and the plants and trees that had been in hiding during the winter are finally starting to bloom. It means pollen polluting the air like fumes, causing itchy eyes and running noses that seem impossible to stop, even with allergy medication. Shaw does admit, though, that the warm weather is a definite welcome change from the bitter cold of winter. The sun soaks into her black clothes, mixing with the warmth of her body and the warmth of Root’s hand tucked into the crook of her left elbow. The taller woman walks happily beside her, a stride and look Shaw hasn’t seen for months. When was the last time she’d cared so much about another person’s happiness?
They’d met up for lunch at Katz’s Deli, Root picking apart her sandwich like a delicate science project, plucking the lettuce and pieces of raw tomato from between slices of bread and fresh pastrami. Somehow they got her order wrong half the time. They’d stayed there for an hour talking about the various goings-on in their more recent post-war lives and then dissolving into silence to take bites of the cheesecakes they’d ordered for dessert. Afterward Root suggested a walk in Central Park to burn off lunch even though her sandwich had only been half-eaten. For such a bigger woman height wise she really had the stomach the size of a bean.
“John should be getting out of physical therapy in a few hours,” Root says when they’re planted on a secluded bench, half in the shade, half in the sun. She’s holding a small cup of coffee between her hands, somehow still cold in the lukewarm weather. “I was thinking we’d take him for dinner somewhere, since hospital food is rather bland.”
Bland conjures memories of late night café runs, eating Subway sandwiches and drinking shitty coffee at three in the morning to keep herself awake long enough until the day shifters arrived to relieve the nightshift doctors nurses of their duties. Of MREs in desert fields where salt and pepper were fought over between the boys in her unit.
“I could use a drink,” Shaw says after a while, standing up from the bench to stretch. “I know a place not too far away.”
“Are you offering to take me to your place?” Root questions, smiling. She reaches for Shaw’s outstretched hand and, when they begin to walk, keeps it there, their fingers intertwined, Root’s thumb rubbing Shaw’s. Several times Root glances down at their joined hands, wondering how it’s come to this point when before if their hands touched they would flinch away as if burned or Root would use it to her advantage to pin Shaw’s wrists above her head in order to kiss her. “I bought you a fresh bottle of scotch, by the way.”
“Kind of you.” Shaw scratches her head, moves a strand of hair away from her left eye. Sometimes she can’t help but think of the night before the trip to Germany, five long years ago, when she drinks Jonnie Walker scotch. It was a brand Cole had turned her on to, whenever he chose to drink, a rich scotch that burned the throat pleasantly on the way down and created a pool of warmth in the belly. Somehow that companionship she had with him bled over into her relationship with Root. But, Shaw thinks, when Root’s head finds her shoulder, maybe friendship isn’t even the right word. Maybe it’s something a little more. And, she realises, her hand coming to rest on Root’s knee, that’s something she’s okay with.
#root x shaw#sameen shaw appreciation day#tumblr fic#fan fiction#person of interest#now i can eat my lunch and watch my movie
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Cat Tips And Tricks For Animal Lovers
Cats provide endless hours of companionship and entertainment. It is naturally a lot of work as well. You must be aware of the responsibilities of being a cat owner. This article can help you see what they are. Read them to keep your cat strong and happy.
You should always bring your cat to a vet to make sure everything is okay. Your vet can give you an idea of your cat's overall health, in addition to administering any shots it may need. Make sure you keep the same veterinarian for your pet throughout its life. They'll understand what your cat has been through.
Your cat needs lots of affection and love. Cats give us a lot of love, and they deserve to be loved back. Like most folks, cats have the need to socialize to feel like part of the family. They should feel like a valued family member as well.
Cats love to be clean. If the cat has longer hair, it can be the cause of hairballs. There are foods which help combat this problem. The are specially formulated cat foods that help reduce the instances of hairballs, which is not only good for your cat, but also good for you and your feet in the middle of the night.
You can often find better deals for cat medicine online rather than buying them from the veterinarian. There are some times when this isn't a good idea, like when you're dealing with a pet related emergency. However, if your pet gets regular prescriptions for a chronic or ongoing issue, you can often save up to 50 percent by shopping online.
Remember that very young children can be a bit too rough with a cat or new kitten. Teach your kids the right way to hold a cat. Demonstrate the appropriate way to pick the cat up and how to play with them. A cat's bones are not as strong as a dogs, and they should be treated more gently.
Do all you can to figure out what's causing your cat to meow. After you have lived with your cat for a while, you will come to know what she wants by her meow. my website givecatsabetterlife may be hungry, or she may want you to let her outside. Understand your cat's preferences, and you'll be that much better off.
If you want a cat with long hair, be prepared to put in extra time and care. Long-haired cats shed constantly, and the fur ends up on your clothing, floors, and everything else in your home. Only choose a cat with long hair if you can clean up after it consistently. Additionally, consider that longer-haired cats are more likely to have issues with hairballs.
Think about where you want to put the litter box. It's sometimes tempting to put the box somewhere that you don't have to smell or see it. learn here should be somewhere that is easy for your cat to get to, however. It helps to make life easy for the cat, as they can be quite picky about things. A litter box located in the basement should be placed on a thick mat or rug.
Taking your cat to the vet regularly to get proper vaccinations and check-ups will ensure that your pet enjoys a long and healthy life with you. Cats need regular checkups, just like humans. Your cat is part of your family, and you should treat him as you would any other well-loved member of your household.
Dogs wag tails out of joy. Cats move their tails for a very different reason. If you see a cat's tail moving like that, it is an indication that they are agitated or don't know what to do. If you are petting your cat and its tail begins to wag vigorously, stay away from the cat. It may be ready to attack you.
There are certain human foods that you should never feed to cats. These can include chocolate, grapes, onions and tomatoes. If your cat eats these foods, he may become sick or even die. Refrain from feeding your cat dairy products as well.
Cats' powerful olfactory abilities mean that they can smell changes in their home. Sometimes this causes problems if you introduce a new food dish, bed, or scratching post. Your cat may not initially appreciate a new pet. When your cat becomes more comfortable, he or she will adjust.
If hairballs are a problem that brushing won't solve, there are some other things you can try. Adding in just 1 teaspoon of pumpkin mixed in with their food bowl can help with prevention. Add in an extra spoonful of water if the mixture is too thick. There are also cat foods that contain an anti-hairball component, usually extra fiber, that may solve the problem.
Consider your cat if you are going to make a schedule change. Provide them with something to do while you're gone, or consider adopting another cat.
It's good to keep your cat well fed, but overfeeding can cause a number of health problems. Eating over the normal amount can cause them to develop serious health problems or become obese. Keep an eye on how much your pet is eating, and be sure that their diet is balanced.
Don't offer table scraps to your cat as a treat. The way human food is cooked and the ingredients involved makes for it not being a good choice for your cat. If you want to give your cat a treat, a spoonful of chicken or some egg is okay. So long as you are feeding your cat the correct food according to their weight and age, their diet is good.
Consider leaving your cat indoors most of the time. Outdoor cats do not live as long because they come in contact with diseases. Your family, in turn, could get sick from your cat. Therefore, provide your indoor cat with a sunny location, such as a sunroom or simply a large window, so that it can sit and feel like it's outside.
As mentioned earlier, you benefit from having a cat. However, if you're wishing for a good life for your pet, you need to learn to care for it well. Using the information provided here will be a big step in making your cat a happy addition to your life.
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BEGIN JOURNEY
WHO ARE YOU? Maybe…
You are a woman… who is a new mom, exhausted, overwhelmed, and trying to juggle all of your new responsibilities. Or perhaps you’re already a seasoned mother with multiple children, always on call and trying to meet their every need. Whether you’re a stay-at-home mom or pulling double duty as a full-time working mother, you can’t see straight because you’re beyond busy with your never-ending To-Do list. What is the best word for the typical day of a mother? Ah yes…overloaded!
You are a woman… who is a no-nonsense powerhouse in the corporate world. You’re all business and keep tenaciously focused on your career. You bring your never-ending work load home with you and stay immersed in your business affairs long into the night, forgetting much of what or who exists around you. You have lost the ability to find a healthy balance between work-time and down-time, and this imbalance is creating a negative effect in your personal relationships.
You are a woman…who has reached the milestone in life where hormones have been robbed from you as if by a thief in the night. You feel almost completely void of sexual desire, sweat bullets from hot flashes, your vagina has become a desert, and you now have to cross your legs every time you cough, laugh, or sneeze to avoid peeing your pants. Doesn’t menopause seem like a cruel payback for being the chosen gender to bring children into the world? After what the female body endures from childbirth alone, we should be rewarded with…I don’t know…eternal youth, maybe…or spontaneous orgasms…or at the bare minimum, a lifetime of priority parking at our favorite grocery store…but at least something pleasant!
You are a woman…who has lost self-confidence as you’ve aged. Maybe you had a child or two—or six—and now there are residual physical effects causing you to feel self-conscious. It could be extra weight, stretch marks, or the deflated remains of your once perky boobs from breastfeeding. Maybe all three! As if that weren’t bad enough, there’s the inexorable progression of aging, including but not limited to wrinkles, the turkey neck (my personal fav), bat-wing arms, cellulite in places you didn’t think it could possibly migrate to, gray hair, leg veins… what the hell? If you haven’t experienced any of the joys (read: miseries) of aging yet, then savor your youth, my spring chicken, for it will sneak up on you. All of these minor and major physical changes can chip away at your confidence, wreak havoc on your self-esteem, and make you feel insecure about your appearance.
You are a woman…who has suffered the excruciating pain of infidelity. You are still in the process of healing this deep wound, which is very delicate and difficult to repair. Choosing to stay with your husband after this massive breach of trust is a long, long road back to recovery. A constant inner-battle plays in your mind of the injustice that’s been done to you, against the desire to trust him again and make your relationship better. You have never felt quite so torn about anything in your whole life, and you can’t help but look at him now through the eyes of both optimism and skepticism. You wonder if you will ever be able to reestablish a healthy physical connection after this emotional devastation, or if you will ever completely recover from the unbearable pain this betrayal has caused you.
You are a woman…who feels a sense of hopelessness with your husband. He doesn’t seem interested anymore, and you feel starved for the attention and affection he once showered upon you. You can’t even remember the last time he took the initiative to show you a romantic gesture. You have tried and tried to convey your feelings to him, but to no avail. Your words fall on deaf ears. Living this way makes you feel lonely and hollow. Because of the extreme emptiness you feel, you may have given yourself permission to go outside the boundaries of your marriage to feel desired and appreciated. You so desperately want to experience what you pine for in your own relationship, but don’t foresee it happening. Maybe you haven’t taken the physical leap outside of your relationship, but you have contemplated what was once unthinkable and found the thought seriously tempting.
You are a woman…who is simply experiencing feelings of contentment and complacency most women will encounter in a long-term relationship. Like the slow growing waistline of an aging woman or man, these characteristics have the same tendency to slowly creep into your relationship without you noticing until one day it hits you. The excitement has turned dull, the freshness is now stale, and the passion and desire have long since faded away. You love your husband and feel generally happy, but frankly, you also feel…well, bored. There’s a very good chance he feels the same way too.
Which one of these women best describes you? Do you fit one category, maybe two, or perhaps more? I have personally fit into almost all of these women’s shoes at one point or another in all of my relationships. It is my belief that one common factor plays a quiet and unassuming—yet powerful—role in the ultimate success or failure of a long-term relationship. What is that crucial factor?
SEXUAL INTIMACY
A big and bold statement, I know. But have you ever thought, I mean really thought about what a significant role the bond of sexual intimacy plays between you and your husband? Have you considered how interconnected it is with so many other areas of your relationship? For many women, the answer is no. After all, you’re too busy simply trying to keep up with the constant demands of everyday life. Maybe you are vaguely aware, but don’t put much thought into it because honestly, where would you even begin?
Rest assured, keeping the bond of sexual intimacy healthy and strong is a vital key factor in maintaining a well-rounded relationship. If this aspect of your relationship is not constantly nurtured like a newborn baby, your marriage can morph into a companionship, friendship, or even a roommate type of situation. This is called a living arrangement. You do not want a living arrangement! You want to feel passion and be passionate. You want to feel desirable and be desired. You want that spark of excitement once again because it makes you feel so good and so alive!
Is this possible? Is there real potential to revitalize your relationship from where it stands today? Is it possible to feel passion and desire again for this man you’ve been with forever and a day? My answer is a resounding YES! Anything is possible if you possess this one critical driving force: DESIRE. It’s what motivates us to create or change anything we want in our lives. ANYTHING! Without this fundamental component, however, your relationship will not genuinely improve without a sincere and heartfelt desire for change. Period.
TAKE THE FIRST STEP… THIS JOURNEY BEGINS WITH YOU.
You are about to embark upon a journey of your inner self and rediscover some of the most amazing benefits being in a long-term relationship has to offer. This website was not created to be rushed through, so make your favorite relax-time drink, grab your laptop or tablet, and make your way to the most comfy seat in the house. This site was created with specific intention for you to take your time to explore the information provided, and be reflective about how it personally affects your relationship. Once you’ve explored and reflected, you’re encouraged to take action-based steps to improve intimacy in your relationship.
You bring your desire, an open-mind, and willingness to put forth an honest effort to improve the bond of sexual intimacy in your relationship. I’ll bring my experience, guidance, advice, tips, ideas, and suggestions to help make your desire a reality.
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