20. 20

20

J ack got waylaid by the boundary media girl as he was leaving the oval at the Gabba in Brisbane, high on their win.

“Jack Reaver, four goals and a win. You seem to be finding some form out there. What’s changed?” she asked and stuck the microphone under his face, her made-up face grinning up at him, white teeth gleaming around red lips.

Jack huffed a laugh, put his hands on his hips and sucked in pulls of air. “Yeah, ya know, me and the boys just feelin’ it tonight, ya know?”

“Definitely,” she smiled. Alison Carlisle was her name, daughter of an ex-player and coach in Melbourne, her old man was a salty old bastard but a top coach; whereas she was sunshine and rainbows. Jack remembered the one time she’d interviewed her dad on the boundary and the old prick gave her nothing. It’d made him and the others soften towards her, inclined to give her more. Which, come to think of it, might’ve been the old man’s intention.

“But you were showing the form you did back in Melbourne,” she smiled, mascara lashes fluttering and hoping he’d take the bait.

“Dunno about that,” he said as he puffed and smiled. “I reckon I’ve been the same player with Freo as I was there, but yeah, ya know, just feelin’ it tonight. Me and the boys feel like we got somethin’ this season, ya know.”

“There’s been a lot of talk about the absence of Hiller, but tonight you showed that might not be a problem?” she thrust the microphone back under his face and normally, he’d be worried about dripping sweat on it, but the mention of Sean’s name and what she was implying made that evaporate.

“Hiller being out leaves a hole no one can fill. Man’s irreplaceable,” he smiled habitually the way he always did when he had to be firm as if both apologising and asking for no follow up.

“You looked pretty good without him tonight,” she said.

Tampu jogged by and jostled his shoulder, the rest of the team filing past behind him. The oval was stadium-bright with the lights around them, the night sky pitch black beyond.

“Nah,” Jack said. “Hiller told me if I didn’t get it together, he was gonna request a trade. So, he’s still a big part of this win.”

“A trade—”

“I gotta,” he pointed to the bench, to where Sean was waiting, hands in his pockets, low-key smile on his lips. He was still favouring his better leg, had a slight hobble when he walked with the brace, but he was a machine in training, doing everything Jorge asked and more. He’d be back in no time.

“Of course, thanks, Jack,” she beamed up at him.

“Yeah, course,” he smiled before jogging over to Sean.

“Hey,” he grinned.

Sean clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s more like it,” he said, smirking. They started for the tunnel and Sean leaned closer. “Reckon I must got a magic dick.”

Jack barked a startled laugh.

“And he doesn’t deny it,” Sean said, falling into pace beside him, hands still tucked in his pockets, his bad leg only limping slightly.

“Not the first time I’ve heard it,” he replied, which was true. To hear it again made him nostalgic and hopeful. He cracked his neck from side to side to distract himself.

Sean looked up at him, raised both eyebrows. They were almost at the locker room doors.

“Just,” Jack leaned down and whispered against his ear, “your magical dick’s been my slump buster for a while now.”

Sean snorted a laugh. “And what do I get outta this?”

“Your dick wet?” Jack said, his face splitting into a smile.

Sean rolled his eyes, shoved him gently and opened the door for him.

It wasn’t the same as before, it never could be, Jack thought, but it was something else. The way Sean put him on his stomach the night before, fucked him until he couldn’t think of anything but that thick cock carving a space inside him, while Sean mouthed at his throat, whispered that Jack was doing so good, taking it so good, was so good, it was pretty damn close to what it’d been before. Except Sean left after a short cuddle, he didn’t kiss him goodbye, he didn’t lie in bed with him after and ask him a bunch of questions like what Jack thought of how Melbourne were playing or where Jack wanted to go in the offseason or if Jack still didn’t want to tell anyone about them.

Getting fucked and held by Sean made him feel better, made him feel closer to Sean, but it wasn’t everything and Jack couldn’t tell him everything. There was no way to explain what they were because all the bits that led to that were missing and you can’t just skip those parts. And the only thing worse than not having Sean as his boyfriend was Sean not believing he was his boyfriend. It was a rejection he couldn’t face.

He brushed his hand over Sean’s lower back as he went for his place in the circle to sing the team song, herding Sean to stand beside him. He looked into his face as they roared out their win and Sean glanced up, grin in full force, brown eyes shining and holding Jack’s for a moment, but it wasn’t the same as last year and maybe never would be.