17th February, 1892 — Equipment Room, Chudley Cannons Stadium
Cassius Lestrange

Oh. They had been doing this for the better part of a year. The thought struck Theo as he ducked into the equipment shed, waiting for the pitch to empty. He’d had a long tactical meeting with the coach this morning, then stayed to watch the team’s training in today’s damp, drizzly conditions, and now he was dragging out a detailed check of the newest equipment order that had been drawn up for him, as some excuse to loiter. He wasn’t paying much attention anymore as he scanned the coach’s list again, ran a hand absently over the loose seams of some of the practice quaffles from the shelves; and apparently he’d lost track of time, too, because when the door edged open, clearly Cash had found him first.

“Hey,” Theo said, face brightening into a grin. He tossed out a couple of the usual questions about how training had gone while he started tidying up the equipment he’d been looking at; but, at the first natural lull in the conversation, found himself unexpectedly changing tack. “Can I ask you something?”

He paused, suddenly nervous. Is this something, he wanted to ask. Are we...? Because they had never really broached the subject – and he didn’t think either of them had ever planned for this, either – but if their fooling around had ever been a casual thing (– and Theo wasn’t sure if it had, to him –), it didn’t exactly feel that way now. Or maybe he was reading too much into it, or had fallen too far into something, accidentally started to care more than he should. Maybe the feeling in his chest when he thought about Cash was going to eat him alive someday if it kept on like this, or maybe it would go away if he kept pretending it was nothing. (Maybe this wasn’t healthy, and he was just thinking about Cash too much.)

“This might sound stupid,” Theo warned, with a quick, embarrassed glance his way – it definitely sounded stupid, but it wasn’t as if he could discuss it with anyone else. “But do you – like men?”

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The following 2 users Like Theodore Gallivan's post:2 users Like Theodore Gallivan's post
   Clarissa Cosgrove, Melody Crouch

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Cash was still damp from the drizzly practice and had every intention of defiling Theo in the equipment shed; he was already grinning when he edged into the room, and he latched the door behind him. "Sure," he said anyways, expecting Theo's question to be about practice or the team or — anything other than what it was.

He raised his eyebrows and leaned against the shed door. "Obviously," he said, right away — but maybe that was rude? "I mean — yeah. Yes." It was weird to say out loud, but he'd known it for ten years now — Cash vastly preferred men, and at least some other people did, too.

"Do you not?" he asked, as soon as the thought occurred to him. (But if Theo didn't like men, he really was awfully comfortable with another man's —)

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The following 2 users Like Cassius Lestrange's post:2 users Like Cassius Lestrange's post
   Clarissa Cosgrove, Theodore Gallivan

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MJ made this!

Obviously, Cash said, and it was so quick a response that Theo blinked, not sure Cash had entirely understood him. He pulled a quaffle into his hands and held it near to his chest, like it was some odd comfort blanket, and picked at its seams just to give himself something to do, somewhere else to look, as he gathered his courage and tried again.

“No, I do,” he assured him first, hastily, in case Cash actually had any doubt. “Yeah. I meant, uh – I know, physically, but...” That bit wasn’t in question for him, not anymore: they had clearly established that. And Theo had already known, rationally, that this kind of attraction existed, long before he had realised it for himself – sure, some men did this sort of thing in secret, or were too loud about it and got arrested for their sexual preferences – but he hadn’t ever supposed it could be...

“But do you – like – men?” Theo twisted the quaffle in his hands, his cheeks going redder by the second as he fumbled over how to phrase it, and preferably in a way that wouldn’t simultaneously give away how he felt, personally. Finding none, he stumbled on; because he was in it now, regardless. “Is it ever – do you ever feel –?” Theo trailed off helplessly, glancing up again. Something more.

(The alternative was that maybe most men didn’t, couldn’t, harbour feelings for other men, and he was just – ill.)

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Cash felt a ping of relief — although it really would have been shocking if Theo wasn't attracted to men — but it turned out that this was much more serious. Cash swallowed, worried about keeping his throat clear — there was something in his head that pinged danger, but there was something else, too.

He had a responsibility to get this conversation right. It struck him before he could really think it through — he was the only person like them that Theo knew, and if he got this wrong, what if Theo just thought something was wrong with him? Cash had kept loving Theo a secret for months now, he wasn't ready to tell, but — he wanted to get this right. He had to get this right. He swallowed again, tapped his fingers against the side of his thigh.

The silence had stretched, a lengthy beat —

"I like men," Cash admitted, looking at the quaffle in Theo's hands, "The way that most men — feel about women. Or so I've been told."

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MJ made this!

The silence dragged on for so long that Theo cycled through that stumbling sentence in his head again to be sure he’d actually said all of it aloud... and then began desperately wracking his brains for some way to safely backtrack the thought, in case this silence meant the worst.

But – oh. Oh. Before he knew it, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding; a breath, and maybe all the buildup of tension that had knotted itself deep between the back of his shoulders every time he’d thought about this for a little too long in the last year. It was hard to hide it. His shoulders had relaxed; his face too; and he sent the quaffle in his hands sailing back into a storage basket gently, thoughtlessly, in sheer relief.

“Right. That’s – good.” He said, trying to rein himself in again, in spite of the fact that the sick feeling in his chest was suddenly, spontaneously, gone. He gave a small grin. “Good to know.”

And he knew this didn’t mean anything for them here, because he was very sure that Cash was merely speaking from past experience, about men he’d liked before – but honestly, that was fine. More than fine. It was just enough to know. Enough that everything made sense now, and that maybe someone understood. “Yeah,” Theo added, aware that he ought to leave it there now – because he didn’t have the same excuse, so Cash would know exactly who he meant by this, and he hadn’t asked, but – so he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, and did his best to hold his gaze. “Uh, yeah. Me too.” Hopefully that didn’t change anything.

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The relief on Theo's face hit somewhere in Cash's chest, and the words deepened the wound. This should feel good — he should be relieved that Theo liked him, Cash loved him, maybe — but there wasn't relief in it. He ought to say something. This was a pause in which he should say something, because he had more experience with loving other men, and that meant he should know what to say in this moment.

He took a few steps forward, and grabbed onto Theo's forearms. "Good," Cash said, and hoped that was enough.

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MJ made this!

Good. Theo breathed out. The conversation didn’t feel quite finished – there was still a fluttering in his chest, as if there was more in him to put words to – but he didn’t know how to say it, and Cash wasn’t saying anything else either, so maybe he shouldn’t push his luck.

Besides, good, combined with the pressure of Cash’s grasp, was affirming enough. “Yeah?” he said, leaning gratefully into the touch. None of this was new, but the pleasure of it hadn’t yet faded, had just become a familiar rush of feeling. Strange that he should feel as at home in this as he did anywhere these days, maybe, but he did. And he was in no hurry to ruin things, so Theo just bridged the distance and kissed him instead, soft, and then more surely.

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Cash smiled into the kiss, a facial gesture that felt embarrassing as soon as he did it. If he wasn't careful, Theo was going to figure everything out. "I'll show you how good?" he asked, pressing closer to Theo. If he moved things into physicality, then maybe he could avoid talking about their emotions — and where this was going — for just a little longer.

(Also, it was fun.)

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MJ made this!

It wasn’t... well, maybe it wasn’t everything he had been hoping for (– and Theo tried to remind himself he purposely hadn’t been hoping for anything, anyway, so he couldn’t be disappointed by things not said, feelings not returned –) but it was still something. Besides, it was probably better this way: however Cash felt or didn’t, at least if he knew how Theo felt about him, Theo wouldn’t have to worry so much about hiding it.

And it was hard to feel abashed about any of it now, with Cash pressed so close against him. (Hard to pay attention to anything else, really.) “Yeah, okay,” he conceded, as if he could possibly complain about that suggestion. Breaking into a wry grin, then, he moved his hands to Cash’s hips to tug them both further back into the room. “Show me.”

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