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Michael’s so spaced out that he almost misses it.

Luckily not even the anxiety of a high profile job that depended almost entirely on Michael could distract him enough that a bright green Lamborghini with white smoke spewing from it on the shoulder of the road didn’t catch his attention. It doesn’t exactly blend with the picturesque English countryside. He hits the breaks.

Bandits had been using decoys to make potential victims stop for as long as humans had been traveling, but given how expensive the other car looks compared to Michael’s rented Honda, he feels safe parking behind the Lamborghini and getting out. The driver’s side door is open and the hood popped. 

Hesitantly, Michael calls out, “Hello?”

When there’s no response, Michael steps around the open door and towards the front of the car. The summer heat is oppressive outside of his air conditioner vehicle. Sweat is already beginning to gather on his brow. Perhaps the driver had gotten a ride or struck out down the road in hopes of rescue. But surely they’d close the door first. Right?

“Ow!”

Michael jumps back, which conveniently removes his feet from the fingers of the man sprawled out on the grass. “Oh my god. Sorry.”

“ ‘s all right, my own fault for being on the ground like an idiot.” The man says, pulling the wireless headphones he wore down around his neck. “Though in my defense it has been a long day and this was just the cherry on the shit sundae. So I think I deserve a few minutes to lay around feeling sorry for myself.”

Smile pulling on the corners of his mouth, Michael offers the man a hand up, which the stranger examines for a second as if expecting a trap before accepting. He’s heavier than Michael expected. There’s a lot of muscle on his lean frame. “Car troubles?”

“Yeah.” Once on his feet, the stranger drops Michael’s hand and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. His pale skin has not turned the color of a tomato yet so he can’t have been out here too long. 

Still Michael feels compelled to say, “I’ve got an unopened thing of water, if you want a drink. This heat will dehydrate you fast. Then I could take a look at your car. See if I can tell what the problem is.” There wouldn’t be any calling for a mechanic out here. Michael had tried to send a text ten minutes ago and been given three error messages before he gave up.

“Not to be ungrateful, but do you know anything about cars?” 

“Do you? ” Michael shoots back, because the cargo shorts, salmon polo, and bits of grass sticking in his short hair didn’t exactly paint a picture of someone who had a ton of experience under the hood of a sports car. 

“Fair point.”

Michael goes to get the water. 

White smoke from under the hood means it’s probably an issue with the cooling system. Leaking coolant wasn’t ideal but it was far from the worst thing that could be wrong. Michael waves a hand to disperse the smoke, giving him a clearer view of the problem. He pokes around for a bit, with the stranger hovering anxiously over his shoulder. “Had it been running smoothly before this happened? Any weird noises?”

“Perfectly normal. Well, there was a bit of rattling, but I figured that was ‘cus I’d finally hit one too many curbs. God, Isaac’s gonna be so insufferably smug about this. I’ll be hearing about it until the day I die.” the man groans, lifting the plastic bottle of water to his lips.

“Is Isaac your boyfriend?” Michael asks, casual as can be, unable not to ask. The man was really fit. 

The man chokes. Really chokes. Like, coughing fit that lasts several minutes, red in the face, gasping for breath kind of chokes. Michael watches it in alarm. The heimlich wouldn’t be effective for water but he’s just about to give it a try anyway when the stranger gets it under control. 

“No. No, Isaac’s just a mate. My best mate actually. Under the impression that he’s my mum though because he told me that I should just borrow his car for the drive down to Wales, if for no other reason than to give him peace of mind.”

“Sounds like a good mate to have.” 

“Yeah, he’s great. Not my boyfriend though.” He clears his throat. “My name’s Colin by the way.”

“Michael.”

“It’s nice to meet you Michael. Thanks for stopping, and for the water.”

He shakes his head, leaning back from the car. “Don’t thank me yet. I can tell what the problem is but I don’t have the tools or the confidence to fix it. Can I offer you a ride? I think there’s a town not too much farther down the road.”

Colin is extremely reluctant to leave his Lamborghini but doesn’t really have a choice. The car isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So he collects his duffle bag from the boot while Michael moves his own suitcase to the backseat with his two suits in their protective bags. 

The road is just a straight path through the hills, leaving them no choice of destination. They could only hope to encounter civilization sooner or later with Google Maps down. 

It’s kind of awkward at first. Dead silent, since the radio was only static. Michael had tried it without much hope when he realized that the signal was way too spotty to continue streaming his audiobook. The prose of Time War hadn’t translated great to audio anyway, in his opinion. Then Colin blurts, “Does this thing have Bluetooth?”

“Yeah. Uh, do you want to…”

“God yes.”

Colin leans forward and taps at the console of the car until he’s able to choose a new device. He selects Phone #12 with a flourish. “I hope you like Drake because I don’t really have anything else.”

Knowing that he couldn’t name a single Drake song at gunpoint, Michael nods. “I’ve got to ask. Is your phone named that because it’s your twelfth phone?” Colin’s car and shoes were nice enough that he could very well afford twelve phones. Why he’d do that was another question entirely. 

“What? Ah, nah. Twelve is just my number. Makes bus rides easier if we all do that, you know?” Colin hums as he scrolls through his music. He must settle on one because a song begins to play from the speakers. 

Drake is not Michael’s thing, it turns out, but he can’t bring himself to object for two reasons.

1: There is literally no other option other than silence, which Michael hadn’t noticed when alone but felt like a weight with Colin next to him. 

And 2: Colin knows every word of every song that plays. He doesn't miss a beat, although his pitch and tone could use some work. It’s way cuter than it has any right to be. Eyes closed and head bobbing, Colin sings along. Michael can’t stop glancing over. But since they’re in the middle of nowhere he feels safe enough doing this.

Michael hadn’t been completely wrong about there being a town nearby. After fifteen or twenty minutes they come upon a sign advertising what is technically a village, given the population. By some dumb luck there is a single mechanic in town and she’s got a tow truck. 

Going off of Michael’s description of the problem and the under the hood pictures Colin had thought to take (apparently this is not his first time at the damaged car rodeo) the woman says that she can’t say for sure but they’re probably looking at a wait time of four hours minimum. 

Colin sighs, disappointed but not surprised, and asks if there’s anywhere close where they can get a decent bite to eat.

“My treat.” He promises. “As a thanks for the rescue. I might have died of dehydration out there if you hadn’t come along. Then I’d become a ghost haunting that roadside forever until someone did a ritual of throwing their car keys into a fire then drinking a whole bottle of Mezcal.”

“That’s very specific.” Colin’s casual shrug in response to that only makes Michael more curious. Plus he can’t exactly claim to not be hungry because as they’re walking out of the mechanics shop, his stomach growls audibly. Embarrassed, Michael presses a hand to his stomach. “Okay, but only because I want to see if this place really does have the best milkshakes east of Cardiff.”

Definitely no other reason. Like the way Colin smiles.

So they get lunch. Nothing fancy. Colin has the fish and chips, Michael orders a salad but steals chips off of Colin’s plate, and they both have chocolate milkshakes. Separate ones. Not that Michael was tempted to ask for a single glass and two straws.

They talk a lot more over the meal than they had in the car. Michael learns that Colin is on his way to visit his family just outside Cardiff. He’s passionately for Welsh independence but lives in Richmond for his job, which he does not expand on any. Michael’s fine with that. Colin is also super into football which is not really Michael’s thing and normally something that is a turn off for him.

But Colin isn’t into sports like a lot of guys are. Blindly loyal to a team they grew up with and of the opinion that they could do better coaching than the actual professionals. He admits to being a mediocre player but goddamn if he’s not passionate as hell about the sport. Colin is also smart enough to catch onto the fact that Michael is just nodding while he talks about the upcoming season for Cardiff and asks, embarrassed, if Michael would like to change the subject.

He kind of hates to stop Colin while he’s on a roll but Michael would also like to know what’s happening in the conversation. 

They switch over to a horror movie that’s coming out soon in theaters and the book it’s based on, which Michael has actually read. When Colin admits that he’s not big into reading Michael doesn’t even start looking for a way out; that’s how utterly charmed he is by the time the bill comes. 

Stomachs full, they head back over to the mechanics. Colin’s bright green death trap is easily the most expensive thing in the lot, probably that the lot has ever seen. While the mechanic had been able to get it back to town easily enough, the repairs needed for it to be fully running are going to take longer than anticipated since she doesn’t have a specific piece that she needs and won’t until tomorrow. On the bright side, her cousin apparently has a wonderfully priced Air B&B within walking distance.

“Great, now Mum’s going to kill me for being late and Isaac’s going to kill me for getting myself into this mess.” Colin groans. 

Michael offers to drive him as far as Cardiff so he’s not stranded here, but Colin refuses to leave his car. Apparently he’d rather spend a night in a random village than leave it. 

You’re so stupid, Michael thinks fondly as he pulls his phone out. There’s enough signal here that several messages had finally come through but Michael had left them unread. “I feel bad just abandoning you.”

“It’s hardly abandoning me. You’ve already gone above and beyond here, Michael, and I really appreciate it. My knight in shining armor and everything.” Colin says. “Besides, I’m a strong and capable man.”

“Well I’d still like to know that you’re okay. I know that you probably want to spend time with your family and I’m gonna be super busy with work all week but once we’re both back in the London area…” Michael trails off, regretting it when Colin’s eyes go a bit wide. “Or not. Never mind.”

He tries to shove his phone back into his trouser pocket, realizing that he’s apparently read the signs all wrong. But then Colin grabs his wrist. Glances around the reception room that’s empty of anyone but them, since the mechanic had gone to poke at some other vehicle. Swallows. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

So he gets Colin’s number, tries and probably fails to appear cool about it, then leaves him standing on a street corner. Michael’s really glad that his boss for this job is an incurable romantic at heart because otherwise he’d be in massive trouble for showing up so very, very late.

After all, when he’d realized that he still had Colin’s duffle bag, how could he not turn around?

For all that Isaac is probably the most important person in Colin’s life, Michael doesn’t actually meet him until they’ve been dating for nearly three months.

“Dating” is of course a loose term. The two of them have not sat down and said they’re exclusively boyfriends working towards a serious relationship. But they cook for each other and watch movies together and have mind blowing sex. Michael certainly isn’t seeing anyone else and Colin probably isn’t either.

But they’re both busy. The job is Cariff is nearly a shit show but the crew get their act together in the end. Unfortunately it’s the kind of job with lots of clean up required. Michael can keep an eye on the situation from the comfort of his own home but it’s still just another thing on his list. 

Colin is busy with preseason stuff almost as soon as he gets back from visiting his family, then the actual season, and then Zava. 

Yes, the legendary footballer who now plays for AFC Richmond, the same club as Colin. Because Colin was a professional footballer. 

That all had come out on their first date. Colin had made them an amazing fettuccine alfredo then over their candlelit dinner broke down into a confession about not being out, about how he could not date Michael openly, how he would understand if Michael left and never called him back again because secret relationships were not nearly as sexy as media made it seem and–

Michael had cut him off with a kiss. It was stupid, maybe, to get involved with a man under as much public scrutiny as Colin was. Even if he wasn’t a superstar he still belonged to a club that made headlines often, for a number of reasons. The last thing Michael needed was to end up on the cover of the Sun. 

But he couldn’t help himself. Walking away from Colin at that point was a non question.

So they fall into a routine of hidden get togethers and stolen moments before Colin runs off to training for the day or Michael catches a night flight out of the country. Michael has a favorite mug in Colin’s kitchen and Colin somehow claims a drawer in Michael’s bedroom for spare workout clothes. Against all odds they work.

A handful of weeks into Colin’s season, Michael forgets about the caffeine rule, tells him to drive safe, kisses Colin, then gets on a plane bound for India to do a rip deal. As usual, it takes forever. He’s just a fixer on this job and around in case there are any problems with the bonds (there isn’t, because Michael is damn good at what he does, thank you) but that leaves him with plenty of time to sit around texting Colin at least.

Still, all the pictures and video calls in the world can’t make up for being with each other in person. So when Colin hesitantly suggests that Michael come to the team get together at Sam Obisanya’s new Nigerian restaurant on the night he is due to get back, Michael agrees.

Unfortunately their exit from India is a hot one. Michael is forced to scavenge for clothes to wear because he can’t exactly explain the American military uniform he’d flown out in. He changes in the backseat as Rex speeds through the streets of Richmond like they’ve still got police on their tail. 

Michael has barely stumbled from the car and shouted a “Thanks, sorry again about the haircut!” before she’s off again. Even with a few minor traffic laws broken, he’s late.

Despite this, he hesitates before opening the bright red door.

Beyond it is Colin. But Michael cannot fling himself into the arms of the man he definitely wants to officially label his boyfriend. Because also beyond these doors is Isaac. Sam. Jamie and Dani. Coaches Lasso, Beard, and Kent. Zava. Rebecca Welton, the owner of AFC Richmond. People Colin is not out to and might never be.

So tonight Michael cannot be a lover, only a wingman. Some people might be bitter. Maybe Michael would grow to be so as many of Colin’s partners had in the past. But lies are Michael’s livelihood. What’s a few more in the name of love?

And he wants to meet these people who Colin talks of so fondly.

Michael opens the door.

They should probably keep going, find wherever Colin’s parked and get somewhere more private or at least find a dark corner father from Ola’s to do this.

But all of Michael’s objections fly out of his head as Colin pulls their body’s flush and presses their lips together. It’s been far too long. Michael kisses back with equal passion, tilting his head for a better angle.

It’s much cooler out here than it had been in the restaurant. Fewer ovens and grills, bodies pressed in together. The ill-fitting suit jacket Michael had permanently borrowed is still stifling, only because he wants nothing more to shed it and feel Colin’s hands on his bare skin for real.

They make out for…a while. Michael really couldn’t say. He’s pretty sure one of the royal drum corps could go marching down the street right now and neither of them would notice. Colin slips one leg between his and starts fumbling with where his shirt is tucked into trousers. “Woah, woah, I really don’t want to be arrested for public indecency two blocks from Sam’s restaurant. Bad press for him.”

“Mhm. Hot press.” Colin murmurs but pulls back anyway, a bit bashful. “Sorry to just jump you but I’ve fucking missed ya. You’ve no idea how hard it was not to just touch you that entire time. I nearly leaned over and licked that sauce off your chin instead of handing you a napkin.”

Michael shivers at the thought. “I’m pretty sure the ketchup in my fridge hasn’t expired yet. Wanna recreate the moment?”

In response, Colin grabs his hand and says, “I’m parked just over here. Hey, where’s your luggage?”

“Uh, there was an incident at the airport. Luckily I wasn’t too attached to any of the clothes. Let’s go.”

As they walk, no longer holding hands but close enough that their shoulders brush with each step, Colin talks about a time back when he’d been with Cardiff and most of the team’s luggage had somehow ended up on the wrong plane. Michael is in stitches by the time they reach Colin’s new orange Noble M600. 

He’s not any better at driving this one than he apparently had been driving the Lamborghini. Especially at night. With this and the horror stories Colin’s teammates had just told him fresh in his mind, Michael waits until they’re safely in his house to bring up something that had been bothering him since they left.

“I didn’t get to talk to Isaac a lot tonight.” He shoots for casual, and given the fantastic acting job Michael had just been doing, should pull off. But there’s a slight waver in his voice anyway.

Colin is right behind him, ready to chase Michael up the stairs and tear his clothes off like so many late nights before this. He comes to a halt. Flips on the light so he can look at Michael. “Did you…did you want to? Talk to Isaac?”

“Well yeah. He’s your best mate, Colin. Your emergency contact. The person you’re attached at the hip with. I’ve known his name longer than yours. I just thought that I’d get to spend more than two seconds talking to him tonight.” After the initial introductions, Colin had steered him around the room to meet everyone. Even the conversations with Roy Kent and Coach Beard had lasted longer than the one with Isaac, which had mostly been Michael talking. “I’m not mad. Just confused.”

With a roll of his shoulders, Colin sighs. “Look, you’re right that Isaac and I, we’re close. Closer than pretty much anyone else on the team. He knows me so well it’s a miracle that he doesn’t suspect anything already. He’s also Richmond’s resident profiler.”

Right. Colin had told Michael about the utter chaos in the changing room the day it came out that Trent Crimm would be writing a book about the team, they were trying to get Zava, and that their resident sweethearts had broken up. Isaac had apparently been the one to figure it out. Based on nothing but body language, which was impressive until you considered how oblivious Colin could be. If all the others were as bad then it was possible Isaac just had basic powers of reasoning. Still, Michael understands. “You were afraid he’d realize that we want to snog each other more than the average pair of friends do?”

“Yeah. Totally that. Not uh,” Colin glances away. “Not anything else.”

The door is closed now, leaving Michael free to step forward and lay his hands on Colin’s hips. His shirt is smooth under Michael’s fingertip. “What else didn’t you want Isaac to see?”

Colin takes a shuddering breath and finally meets Michael’s eyes. “That I am completely head over heels in love with you.”

“Oh, is that all?” Michael asks around a wide grin, heart beating loud in his ears. “Well it’s probably a good thing we kept our distance. You’re much more practiced at hiding things from him, and I’ve always been rubbish at hiding when I’m in love with someone. That might have led to an awkward conversation where he let me down easy on your behalf.”

“Oh don’t make me think about that.” Colin groans, leaning his head down against Michael’s shoulder. “Why would you say that? You’re awful.”

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I love you too.”

“Yes you do.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Finally.”

They make their way upstairs, slower than they typically would. Stopping to snog against this wall or that armchair. Leave pieces of clothing strewn about the hallways. A departure from Colin’s normal strategy of dumping everything right next to the bed so he could sleep in as long as possible before rushing out for training the next day. 

Later, Colin goes to get a rag and glass of water to split while Michael lays half off the bed. Just staring at the ceiling. He can’t move his legs yet but his brain is coming back together from the mush Colin always made it.

He is thinking about Isaac again.

About secrets and lies too, but mostly about Isaac.

Michael had promised Colin at the start of this that he did not mind hiding. He’d promised himself that there would be no meddling. It was disrespectful to them both to try and change Colin. Especially since Michael knew how homophobic the world of professional sports was. 

Still, the way Colin talked about Isaac, lit up when he got a text from him, confided in him about everything except his love life…

It just makes him sad. 

Because Michael tells Rex everything. Even when they fight, they have each other's backs. Rex is his sounding board, his go-to for almost everything, the person he could spend hours working with then go out with afterwards because they’re still not sick of each other. Rex is also his ex but that doesn’t really translate to the Colin/Isaac dynamic. Life would be simpler if it did though. 

Somehow Colin reenters the room without Michael noticing, wielding the promised washtag and cup. “Woah, someone’s got their thinking face on. What’s up?”

Michael rolls over and pushes himself up enough to drink without worrying about choking. The water tastes like home, which is nice after so long away. Not as nice as the circles Colin starts rubbing on his back though. “Nothing.”

“Your expression says otherwise, love.”

The term of affection makes heat curl in Michael’s stomach. “Just wondering if I can officially call you my boyfriend now.”

“Normally I hate that term, because it makes me feel like a little kid on the playground making up a crush on Steph Tyler and watching all my friends get ‘married’ to their girlfriends but I don’t mind it coming out of your mouth.” The smirk Colin wears is evident in his voice, even if Michael can’t see his face. “There’a a lot that I like more coming out of your mouth, actually.”

Michael wonders, idly, if football coaches ever got thanked by the partners of their players for the stamina their training instilled. Maybe he could send Lasso an anonymous gift basket. Something to show his gratitude. 

“Yeah, I absolutely agree.” Michael lies, having zoned out a solid five minutes ago. 

In the movies, being a part of an international ring of thieves looked thrilling. Sometimes it was. But at the end of the day it was a business like any other and that meant boring meetings. At least his bosses were more laid back than the CEOs they spent their days taking down. 

He’d paid attention to the budgeting section. That was actually relevant to Michael’s job. Their policy on escalating violence was more a hitter thing. Plus he’s really trying to get all these carrot slices to be the same size and that requires his full attention.

While Mirabelle chips in about a job the London crew had recently pulled off, Michael dumps the carrots into the pile of already chopped vegetables and consults the recipe to figure out how few tomatoes he can get away with. He hated tomatoes.

One thing about having a professional athlete boyfriend was that they couldn’t just get takeaway every night or live off of pop tarts and instant noodles. Colin was technically on a strict diet that he was pretty happy to toss out when Michael wanted pizza but it made Michael feel bad. His boyfriend deserved a good home cooked meal that wouldn't bring the wrath of the team nutritionists down on him. 

So here Michael is: standing in his kitchen with a bag's worth of fresh vegetables, trying to follow the recipe pulled up on his phone while the biannual Leverage International all crew video conference is relegated to background noise. The novelty of one of the participants calling from a satellite (that Michael had helped build!) in space had worn out an hour and a half ago. 

He minimizes the recipe and pulls up his text message thread with one of Rex’s more used numbers. Do you think I could fake an internet outage or maybe a terrorist attack?

Better go with ‘golden opportunity to rob the British Museum’, she texts back seconds later. Parker looks just as bored as us and she’s supposed to be running this thing.

The legendary thief does indeed look like she’s contemplating setting something on fire just for something to look at. Not a bad idea, actually. Michael glances at the time and bites back a groan. Another important aspect of being a footballer’s boyfriend was watching his team play even if he wasn’t a starter anymore. 

Before this summer Michael’s only sports watching happened mostly by accident in pubs. But Colin had joyfully gotten him set up with the whole package online. Michael needed his computer back for that, though. Meaning this meeting needs to get wrapped up soon.

Either Hardison realizes that his audience has tapped out or Eliot is also anxious to not miss the Richmond vs Manchester City game starting in ten minutes, because they finally get to the ‘have a great day/night/other timezone appropriate goodbye’ section of the meeting just in time. 

Finally.

Michael closes the video conference tab and logs into the Peacock application just as Soccer Saturday begins. Why did they call it Soccer Saturday when it was only called soccer in the United States, Australia, and sometimes Canada? Michael had no idea. 

He’s not overly fond of listening to the pundits, especially the homophobic prick that had been Colin’s manager before Ted Lasso. Michael rededicates his attention to cooking a nice stew for Colin to come home to after the match. If Richmond managed to break their losing streak the team would go out in celebration, if they get beat again then Colin and a few of the others will get sad-drunk at Isaac’s place. Either way, he would need a good meal in a few hours that Michael was determined to provide.

When the vegetables are all in pieces, Michael starts adding them to the pot. As he does, a bit of the announcer's commentary breaks his concentration. “Hughes in for Zava. Any thoughts Chris?”

“Yeah. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Michael nearly drops his knife.

AFC Richmond gets absolutely slaughtered. Worse than even they’d expected to, because apparently their star player woke up this morning and decided to retire to a life of avocado growing. Leaving the team scrambling for a new strategy, leaving Colin back on the starting line up after months of riding the bench. Chris bloody Powell has several things to say about it and every word makes Micheal wonder how good the man’s home security system is. 

Zava’s video announcement goes up around the same time the team is slinking off the field in utter defeat. Michael watches it and makes a note to look into crashing the avocado market. 

The soup gets finished long before Colin is cut loose from the stadium, so Michael sticks it in the fridge and decides that he needs to do something with the restless energy that’s suddenly possessed him. He can plot vengeance on behalf of his boyfriend later. For now there’s a drone in his workshop downstairs that needs a tune up.

It’s late when Colin calls, voice hushed in the familiar tone of someone trying not to be overheard. He takes Michael’s condolences with discomfort and a resigned kind of sadness. “Look, I know I said I’d come over but we’re all over at Isaac’s right now. Dani’s a mess and this one prick was yelling a lot of shit at the end and I think it got to Isaac more than he wants to admit. Coach says it’s not our fault but…”

“I get it.” Michael assures him. “You should be there for your team, especially Isaac.”

The captain had to feel he was the most to blame. It was good that Colin was with him.

“Mhm. Oh, you read a lot more than me. What do you know about curse breaking? Ted said we were going to be fine, but the omen of the sign ripping has really got me afraid to sleep tonight and I really don’t want to toss my keys in a fire again.”

Michael, suddenly glad they’re only on a voice call, pulls some kind of face that would probably offend Colin. “What?”

He’s not sure how he’s never heard the story of the three hundred ghosts that used to haunt the training room at the Dog Track. It’s worth the wait though. Right as Colin is getting to Ted Lasso’s inspirational post game speech from today someone knocks on the door loud enough to make Michael jump, demanding that Colin come out because he’s been in the bathroom for forever.

“JUST A SECOND. God, I knew I should have hid in the closet. Don’t say anything, even I can pick up on the irony there. See you tomorrow, yeah? I love you.”

“I love you too.” Michael will never get tired of saying it. “And I’ve got lunch tomorrow taken care of so don’t pick anything up on the way. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Now that he’s not just killing time before Colin gets back, repairs seem a lot less appealing. Michael pokes around a bit more before tossing down his tools. Rex picks up on the first ring. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Do you want to go case the British Museum with me?”

They get into a fight the day before Colin leaves for a friendly in Amsterdam.

It was bound to happen at some point. It’s kind of amazing that they have gone this long without the kind of big blowup that leaves both parties hurt and angry. Life couldn’t always be little arguments about Colin leaving cups all over the place or Michael hogging the blankets.

They’re both primed for it: Colin stressed from weeks of losses, Michael burnt out from replicating the diaries of a made up bastard son of the former king of Germany. 

So when Colin stands him up on going to watch an upcoming band play at a local coffee shop, Michael loses it and Colin loses it right back. 

“You didn’t tell me it was at a gay bar!”

“First of all it’s a cafe, not a bar. And it is not a gay cafe, it just happens to be owned by a lesbian and her trans partner, so it’s got a reputation for being gay friendly.” Michael says, displeased with the volume of his own voice but feeling like he needs to match Colin’s. “Why is that such a problem? I was looking forward to sharing this place with you, and the music. You ditched me and now you’re playing it like I’m the bad guy here.”

Colin throws his hands up, turning away from Michael. “I couldn’t go in there! What if someone saw me?”

“Oh the horror, I can see the headlines now. ‘Hughes visits local establishment, seems to be enjoying himself as he eats a cupcake and watches two girls sing about their love of fantasy books, what a fucking nerd’. Richard was photographed in full drag last month blowing kisses to the paparazzi, how is this worse?”

“Because Richard is straight!” Colin spits, finally looking back to him. “Richard can laugh it off then play into the jokes in the locker room the next day and I can’t. Everything I do is under so much scrutiny and I’m not risking my entire life so you can listen to live music about being a nerd and sip an overpriced iced latte. I thought you understood that, Michael.”

Going out with you is risky for me too you know, he thinks about saying. There was always a possibility that he’d get caught in the background of some fan’s picture of Colin and a football loving Interpol agent or Scotland Yard detective or criminal he’d helped take down in the past would see him. “I do understand that your life is a series of compromises to do what you love and still be able to love who you love. I don’t understand why something minor but important to me is not worth the risk because of a few pride flag decals on the windows.”

The argument goes on for a long while. Michael half expects one of Colin’s neighbors to phone the police and put in a noise complaint. Maybe they do and the coppers just show up after Michael storms out yelling, “You might be strong and capable but you’re also a coward, Colin Hughes.”

He feels bad as soon as the words leave his mouth but doesn’t take them back. So maybe he’s a coward too.

When Michael is upset, he throws himself into his work. Sitting in his basement laboring over jewelry replication or his sitting room working on tax info for all the Leverage aliases based in Europe and Asia (spoiler alert: there’s a lot) only distracts him so much. So Michael finds himself volunteering to lend a hand with a small retrieval gig.

Because life can’t ever be easy, it goes wrong very quickly. Their original entrance is down for maintenance so they zipline from a higher rooftop, then lower themselves down to the right floor and cut through the window. Then security decides to do their jobs instead of making Michael’s life easy. Quinn takes care of it easily, but since the guards are on ten minute sweeps, the timetable of the heist is moved up.

“You said you needed a distraction.” Quinn says happily, zip tying a man’s hands together while Michael connects his phone to the main computer to let his program do its work. “What’s more distracting than a ticking clock and a compromised exit strategy?”

The cord slips from his hands.. “What happened to our exit?”

“Don’t worry about it, just get the files.”

Michael continues to worry about it while he frantically downloads the entire server then digs through the CEO’s desk, making sure to mess it up slightly. He grabs a few random files and stuffs them into his bag to make it appear as if the theft was only about the quarterly budget and stockholder info.

By the time he gets home, the fight with Colin is the last thing on his mind.

(That is a lie. He’d met up with Quinn at the Crown & Anchor, deserted after Richmond lost to whatever Dutch team they’d been playing against, and ever since then had been itching to text Colin.)

With bruises forming everywhere thanks to two hours crawling around in air vents and smelling like a rubbish bin, Michael calls first dibs on showing. While Quinn could technically use the downstairs shower at the same time, the water pressure in the master bedroom would drastically decrease if he did. So Michael elects not to mention the second bathroom at all and locks himself in to let his feelings wash down the drain with the dust, suspicious green stuff, and panic sweat.

He also cries a bit.

Wrapped up in his favorite blue robe and feeling mildly better, he troops down stairs, expecting to find Quinn pouring over the files they’d just stolen or on a call with Eliot discussing the next steps. 

Instead he is treated to the sight of the long haired hitter sprawled on his couch, helping himself to a bowl of soup and looking at Michael’s phone. “Hey Anderson, your partner is pretty hot. Good job on that.”

“What?”

Michael tries to grab the phone and after a short scuffle, Quinn lets him have it. For the past forty eight hours Michael had not heard from Colin. Nor had he tried to contact his boyfriend. The last message sent when Michael last checked had been from him, asking where Colin was.

Now there’s a video waiting for him. One Quinn had apparently already watched already. 

“Is it a breakup video?” Michael asks, because he can’t think of any other possibility. This was not the time to be sending sexy home movies. “Am I about to be broken up with over video? I can’t decide if that’s worse than text or not.”

Maybe Colin had been taking notes from Zava. “Still better than by email, or hit man. Had that happen to me once. And no it’s not a breakup video. Just a party at a gay bar in Amsterdam. Where’s your spare towels?”

Wondering if he’d gotten a concussion and was now hallucinating due to the drop from the second floor into the skip, Michael points distractedly. Surely Quinn could figure it out. He lowers himself to the floor and hits play.

Colin is smiling at the camera, multicolored lights illuminating his face and the writhing crowd behind him. He has to shout to be heard over the music. “Hey babe! You’ll never guess where I am and with who. Say hi to my boyfriend Trent.”

“Hullo Michael.” A face appears over Colin’s shoulder, older but no less filled with joy. Or alcohol. Both of them appear quite sloshed. 

“I just wanted to show you that I’m out. Not in general of course but I didn’t want to go see straight people have sex so I faked a stomach ache and snuck away to this gay bar because Coach gave us the night off in Amsterdam. And Trent followed me. But don’t worry, he’s gay too. We’re mates now, I think.” Colin’s happiness dims a bit. “I’m so sorry about ditching you, and the fight. I love you so much. Sometimes I’m a shit boyfriend but ‘m trying, I swear. You mean so much to me and I want to be with you. Life is better when you’re around, Michael. I love you. Wait, did I say that already?”

“Oi, pretty boy, I got your vanilla vodka.” A voice calls off screen. Colin grins and passes the phone to Trent to fetch his guilty pleasure alcohol. 

The view spins and flips a few times as Trent nearly drops it, showing off the full crowd of people having the time of their lives. Trent holds it back up and frowns at the screen when he realizes it’s still recording. “You’ve got a very special young man on your hands, Michael. You have my word that I’ll look out for him. Tonight and going forward. Have a good night. Oh Colin I don’t really want—”

A glass is forced into Trent’s hands and its contents sipped while Colin chants “Chug, chug, chug.” Eventually Trent gives in and swallows it all with a pained face. The phone is passed back to Colin and the video ends with Colin blowing a kiss at the camera.

Richmond had a Wives and Girlfriends club, and the schedule for every game went out to them as well as their partners. For obvious reasons, Michael was not on that particular email list. But Colin dutifully screenshotted and sent him every schedule anyway even if he didn’t bother to do anything more than glance at it himself.

So Michael knows exactly what time the bus is supposed to arrive at Nelson Road the day after they play in Amsterdam. He also knows that the schedule is made by someone with nearly as much optimism as Ted Lasso, and how long it actually takes for them to get back on the bus during the service station stops. 

Meaning that he only has to wait in the car park for five minutes before the bus appears, carrying Colin. 

All morning and half of last night, Michael had drafted text after text. He’d contemplated calling Colin. But for all the books that he’d read, Michael sucked at romantic lines. And this felt like a conversation they should have face to face, anyway. 

Was ambushing Colin at work the smartest way to go about this? Probably not, but it was what he had come up with. Too late to turn back now.

He exits his car and watches as the players file off in their identical jackets and sweats. To keep his mind busy, Michael recounts their info to himself. Number, position, the bits of stats he can remember, the stories Colin has told him.

Fifteen players have gotten off and split for their own vehicles or to the door of the stadium before Michael spots the familiar gait of the man he’s looking for. “Colin!”

He stops at the sound of his name, head swiveling towards the source. The man walking beside him stops too. Isaac. For a second, Michael rethinks his decision to come here but he can’t take it back. 

“Michael?” Colin’s face goes through several expressions before settling on calm confusion. Not unpleased to see him, not overjoyed either. Michael tells himself it’s for Isaac’s sake. “What’s up, boyo?”

Overcompensation. Clear as day to Michael, hopefully normal to anyone else who might be observing this conversation. “Sorry to ambush you, you’re probably knackered, but I leant you a book a few weeks ago and didn’t realize it was due at the library today. Could I get that back?”

He’s quite proud of the lie. It had taken him an hour to come up with a reason to approach Colin here, right as they were getting back from an out of country match. 

Isaac barks out a laugh. “You managed to get him to read a book? Even Lasso couldn’t manage that.”

“I listened to the audio version.” Colin defends, shoving against Isaac. “And at least I still have the copy he gave me, unlike some people.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Isaac waves it off, still laughing. “Go get the wingman his book back. See ya later bruv. Good to see you Michael.”

“You too.”

“Bye boyo.” They both watch him go, and Colin waits until Isaac’s got his car in reverse before saying, “Come on, it’s in my locker.”

Michael’s never been inside the Dog Track before, but he knows that the room Colin pulls him into isn’t the locker room. It appears to be a large closet dedicated entirely to boots. Half the cubbies are empty, presumably because the players had brought their boots with them for the friendly. 

Colin’s got a duffle slung across his back, the same one he’d forgotten in Michael’s car months ago when they’d first met. He rummages through it and comes up with a thin volume, a napkin holding a place halfway through. “Here. I didn’t finish it yet.”

“What? Colin, the book is mine, I don’t really need to return it. That was just a ploy to see you.”

His eyes go wide. “ Oh . You could have just called.”

“I didn’t— hold on a second.” Michael can’t help himself. He flips on the full set of lights and does a quick check of the room, in case anyone is hiding behind the shelf bisecting the room. When he’s sure there’s no one else around, he returns to Colin, reaching out to take his hands. “Okay, we’re good. The truth is, I came because I wanted to see you. You’re very far from a coward and I apologize for saying that. I missed you, and I feel so bad about how we left things, and I wanted to check on you. And find out how a pretend match in the Netherlands turned into a gay bar with a former journalist.”

“It’s a funny story. If funny means utterly terrifying at first and then one of the most rewarding nights of my life.”

Michael opens his mouth to make his boyfriend elaborate and maybe apologize again, because he knows that Colin ended up in that terrifying situation because of him. But before he can, the door opens to admit a young man who’s lugging an enormous bag.

The man’s nodding along to something in his airpods, eyes closed, so he doesn't immediately see them. Colin immediately drops Michael’s hands and leaps away from him. There is literally nothing he could do to make his expression more guilty looking so Michael screws his own into something calm and unalarmed, hoping the stranger will chalk it up to just Colin being his normal, strange self.

Three steps into the room, the man who Michael thinks is the team kitman notices that they’re there and removes one earbud. “Oh, hey guys.”

“Will! You know my pal, Michael, yeah?”

Why was Colin’s default this is a completely platonic relationship as you can see label pal? Michael didn’t know, but it makes him smile. “Hello.”

“Yeah, of course.” That’s a complete lie, but Colin probably misses it in his anxiety. 

Colin rushes on. “I’m just giving him a little tour of the place. What better place to start than the boot room, right?”

Nodding in agreement, Will takes out his other airpod and tucks them both into his pocket. “Oh for sure. Here Michael, lemme show you how it’s organized, I doubt Colin knows. Nate had a super specific system and I tried changing it once but it really does work so good–”

Which is how Michael learns entirely too much about the ins and outs of the boot room and a lot about the job of a kitman. Normally Michael would be fine with this because he loves learning and he loves listening to people talk about what they’re passionate about, but his mind is very much on Colin at the moment. He wants his boyfriend alone. He wants to hear more about Amsterdam, preferably after some snogging. 

After a demonstration on towel folding, Will announces that he has some work to get done before he can head home. Michael takes that as a cue to leave and tries to head for the door. Colin has other ideas. 

“And through here is the changing room, and the coach’s offices.” He says, apparently keeping up the guise of a tour. “I know Roy was planning on heading straight home because he’s knackered but Trent needed to get some stuff done…”

He glances back at Michael, a silent question in his eyes. 

“I’ve always been a fan of his work.” Michael says, and it’s sort of the truth because he’d read a  lot of Trent Crimm’s work when he started at Richmond. It was good stuff. “Do you think he’d care if I asked him a few questions?”

The weeks pass quickly after that. Colin spends his days learning a new football strategy that his gaffer had hallucinated in Amsterdam. Michael sifts through the information he’d helped Quinn steal and occasionally accompanies him or Rex on recon jobs relating to the company, formulating a plan to take it down. Sometimes they have dinner with Trent.

Most of the dinners take place at Trent’s house. He is an excellent cook, which Michael brings up as often as possible because it gets him seconds and thirds of whatever dish Trent has whipped up that night. Once or twice Colin hosts. The most rare occasion is them all going out together. To restaurants and bars and eventually the cafe that had sparked that awful argument. 

Two men together could be a date, but together the three of them blend in. 

“I’m so bloody proud of you.” Michael tells Colin once, then brings it up again and again to see the flush that falls across his cheeks at the praise. 

There’s more to Trent and Colin’s friendship that Michael doesn’t see and can’t understand, born of the world of sports and nurtured in the locker room. He’s just glad that Colin has someone else in on his secret that isn’t far off family or someone who only knows because they’ve had sex.

(Whether Dr Sharron knew about Colin’s sexuality was uncertain. She was a smart woman who spent a lot of time digging into Colin’s head and helping him untangle issues that mostly stemmed from his orientation. But they’d never said it outloud and so Colin didn’t count her among those he was out to.)

Michael is so grateful to Trent for being someone Colin can fall back on, especially when he can’t be around. It makes being gone easier, to know Colin won’t be on his own. Leaving is just as hard as ever though. For both of them.

He drops the news while they’re cooking dinner together. Michael had wanted to do it once their meal was done, but the weight of it crushes him into silence loud enough that Colin asks about it. The truth comes spilling out.

“Six weeks?” Colin repeats, setting his potato peeler down and leaning against the counter. 

“Not ideal, I know, but it’s also not set in stone. We could wrap it early.” Or late, it just depended entirely on their marks. “And I’m not saying I definitely can’t call the entire time, just that the signal is going to be absolute shit. This place is in the middle of nowhere.”

Colin nods blankly. “When do you leave?”

“Fifteen hours. I’m already packed.”

“Good. That’s…good.”

The rest of the cooking is done in silence. He should have waited. Michael wishes he had waited. Maybe the best course of action would have been to spend the night and leave a note explaining that he would be out of town for a month and a half, uncontactable by phone, but this wasn’t him ghosting Colin or trying to break up. This was just his job sometimes.

No. That would be a horrible thing to do. 

Michael sets the table while Colin dishes out their meal. The first half is eaten as quietly as it had been made, the only thing spoken requests for something to be passed. He hates it but he doesn’t want to rush his boyfriend. 

Colin asks, eventually and more to his peas than to Michael, “Why?”

“Why does it have to be done or why is it me who has to go?” Since he shrugs, Michael choses to answer the second one. “I’ve been on this since the beginning. I helped lay a lot of the groundwork for it. No one else knows as much about this company as I do. So it has to be me.”

The truth of the first question is something he can’t explain to Colin. Because if I don’t go, then the endangered animals this company is killing to grind up and add to their product will keep dying and the protestors will continue to be assaulted and the politicians will continue to be bribed. 

 “I’m gonna miss you. Every damn day.” Michael reaches over to cover one of Colin’s hands with his own, trying for a smile, pushing that thought from his mind. “The time will pass quickly. You probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Colin rotates Michael’s hand before bringing it up to press a kiss against the sensitive skin of the wrist, making Michael shutter. “It won’t. It never does when we’re apart. But I know your job is important to you. And I would never ask you not to go. Just be safe, please?”

“I promise.”

He’s never had someone to come home to, to look forward to reuniting with, on these long jobs. It makes some bits easier and some infinitely harder. Michael keeps a single picture on him at all times, one of AFC Richmond last year after the match that promoted them back into the Premier League. Colin is a grinning, sweaty mess in it. All of them are. 

It’s too risky to have a photo of only Colin, even one of the professionally done single shots. The man Michael was pretending to be was married and more importantly, very straight. A team of footballers was easier to explain, even if it was an English team and Michael’s cover story involved a man born and raised in France. 

The first two weeks are the worst. Before the arrival of the Zito Laboratories board of directors for their quadrennial month long retreat (plus the CEO, handful of department heads, and everyone’s assistants) the crew has time to learn every inch of the mountain top resort and get comfortable in their roles.

For Michael that means a morally bankrupt man who runs one of the largest shipping companies operating in the Southern Hemisphere. Rex is acting as his long suffering wife who is tired of Michael working even on their vacation. The Nigerian crew of Leverage International, involved because Zito Laboratories has been a large pain in their ass for years now, gets to play the part of new employees at the resort in every department from the kitchens to IT to event planning. 

(IT is a joke here. There’s no cell signal and while the resort offers wifi, both the guests and worker’s activity is heavily monitored. Even coms are way riskier than Michael would like. Adaoma spends half her time scrambling the radio signals.)

Lead grifter is not his normal job, but like he’d told Colin, it has to be him. Michael wouldn’t be able to do it without Dele in his ear, in the beginning. 

Once their marks land, Michael is mostly too busy to be homesick. This is a three pronged job: they have to figure out how Zito Industries is acquiring the animals they’re testing on, divide the board, and gather enough evidence to ruin the company. Despite his weak hopes of ending early Michael realizes very quickly that they’re going to need the entire month.

The board is just too tight with each other, the assistants paid too well to let anything slip. 

So Michael tucks the photo of Colin’s team into his innermost pocket every morning before he goes off to lie, to cheat, to pick pockets and break into bedrooms in hopes of finding anything to use as leverage. 

Slowly the plan comes together. Discord is sewn, the truth is distorted to their liking, and pieces are put into place. Although it’s less like a puzzle and more like a line of dominos that all tip over to reveal a pretty picture in the end. 

Only in this case the pretty picture is half the board being led away in cuffs by Europol officers while the other half tear each other apart, and instead of a flick to set it off, the morning had started with a fake avalanche. 

Everyone is so ready to be done with this place that they barely manage the gloat part of the job, settling for waving as they climb into the helicopter Rex had secured for them, smiling when the CEO screams in rage and attempts to convince the agent arresting him that they were behind all of this, they had tricked him, his father was right to tell him never to trust the French. It makes Michael laugh at least.

At the base of the mountain Rex lands their ill gotten chopper in a clearing then the seven of them hike half a mile to the safehouse where he strips off the cover of Sebastian Morland (the suit that cost about six months wages for a middle class citizen of England, a fake tattoo across his knuckles that he had learned to reapply in the dark, the diamond set wedding ring) and becomes Michael Zhang again (a dark hoodie stolen from Colin, the keys to his house in Richmond tucked into the pocket of jeans that are beginning to fray, hair cut short again.)

Less than half an hour later they hit the road, bound for the nearest airport where Michael and Rex only have to wait thirty minutes for a plane that will take them back home. That time is spent saying their goodbyes. While they had never worked with the Nigerian crew before now it’s still a bit hard to leave their new friends.

“Come visit any time.” Michael says, embracing Elijah. “I know a great Nigerian restaurant. You’ll love it.”

“If it’s owned by the legendary Sam Obisanya, I have no doubt.” The hitter pats him on the back one last time before letting go. “Stay in touch, Anderson. I mean it. Also if you can get us good Premier League tickets I will kiss both you and your boyfriend. Do I look like I’m kidding? Go on, get back to loverboy.”

Michael laughs and does, following an impatient Rex. 

On the runway Michael finally has a moment to boot his cell phone back up, plugging it into his laptop to charge it. He’s not expecting to have missed much. He didn’t have anything but a few color by number and word game apps on it. The only people with the number were a few of his neighbors, who never texted much, and Colin, who had been told that Michael wouldn’t be able to get any of his messages. 

Instead, as soon as the battery is no longer completely dead and gets a signal, it blows up like the mountain had just a handful of hours ago under Michael’s carefully planted C4 charges. 

Across the aisle, an older woman glares at Michael when he has to lunge after the phone because it’s vibrating so hard it tries to leap from his lap. He gives her an apologetic look that he doesn’t mean before trying to figure out why he had so many notifications.

Missed calls, unread texts, even a few emails. All from Colin.

Rex, beside him, raises an eyebrow. “Wow. What the fuck?”

The old lady glares some more at the cursing, but Rex has always cared less about people’s opinions than Michael. She flips her off without hesitation. 

“Please don’t get us kicked off.” Michael murmurs, trying to get his phone unlocked so he can figure out what the fuck is happening. He’s got 97 missed calls and about a third that many voicemails. There are three email notifications. The amount of texts is big enough that his phone had given up trying to count and just displays an exclamation point over the messenger icon. 

He tries to figure out what’s going on by reading the most recent texts, but they make no sense without context. So he scrolls up, and up, and up. Is still scrolling when the plane takes off. Finally the screen stops being pure gray as he gets to the last message Michael had sent Colin before turning off the phone. 

Colin had replied, I love you too. 

The next message is some time later. A paragraph with so many typos, Michael has to enlist Rex’s help in deciphering it. Colin always had typos but it gets worse the more he’s had to drink. 

Isaac saw the photos in my phone. He took it when I had the file open where I keep them. Not just the ones you left for me. All of them. Then he walked away. Left me there. Won’t pick up any of my calls or answer any of my texts. I know that you can’t but I just want to hear your voice. I’m so scared, is what they make of it.

Dread spills through Michael as he scrolls. Some of the messages are more coherent. None of them make him feel any better. 

Once he’s read and then reread the texts, he pays for the inflight wifi to check the emails. How Colin had even gotten the email address, which Michael only uses for stuff that he knows is going to spam his account, is a mystery. Why he’d decided this was the next best way to contact Michael is also a mystery.

Of the three emails, only one is longer than a hundred words or so. Colin seems to have used them as a sort of diary to arrange his thoughts and feelings in. There is no relief in them but more information than the texts. Recounts of Isaac’s repeated snubbing of his offers to talk, expressions of his nightmares that any day now Isaac will let it slip to everyone who will react in the same way, quoted advice from Trent.

The plane ride is long enough that he has plenty of time to stew in his worry. Short of emailing Colin back, there’s no way of contacting his boyfriend at the moment. Plus it’s Saturday and according to the schedule Michael looks up quickly, Richmond is currently playing. Even if Colin saw the message during the half, Michael wouldn’t want to distract him any more than he already is.

“Rest.” Rex suggests. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Coming from her, arrangements could mean anything from a hitman to some flowers for Colin. Most likely she means a car to get him to Colin as fast as possible. After all, the traffic light system in a city wasn’t very hard to tap into. 

He reaches over to squeeze Rex’s hand in an effort to convey how much he appreciates her before closing his eyes to try and do as she’d said. It’s a long time before sleep takes him.

Their flight is direct to London, no layovers. When Rex shakes him away to say they’re ten minutes out Michael is starving, slightly dehydrated, and itching to get off the plane even before she informs him that Isaac Mcadoo is trending on Twitter.

“For what?” Michael asks, because surely it should be Colin instead. Thank goodness it isn’t Colin.

“Getting red carded.” She says, showing him a video clip that’s been liked and retweeted an insane amount of times. “Attacked an angry fan, one of Richmond’s, but no one knows why he went so berserk. There’s been no official statement but Lasso is due to come on any second now for the press meeting.”

The pilot has them put up their devices and fasten their seatbelts before that can happen. Michael complies with a buzzing brain, prepared to grab his bag and book it as soon as the doors are open. He trusts Rex to clear the way.

They make it into the terminal with minimal thrown elbows before splitting up. Rex to fetch the rental car (neither of them had left their personal vehicles here during the con, because that was asking for them to get jacked or broken into) and Michael to find as quiet a corner as he can.

He’s got Colin’s contact pulled up, all he has to do his hit call. The phone rings only once before the call is picked up. “Michael?”

“Hey baby.”

There’s a lot of commotion on Colin’s end, even more background noise than the bustling airport. He must still be in the locker room, post celebration. Colin says something that sounds like gimme a mo, and a few seconds later there’s the sound of a door shutting and then silence. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. Something other than your voicemail, anyway. Have you listened to those yet? You shouldn’t. I was a drunk mess most of the times I called. Seriously, just delete them—”

Michael interrupts without meaning too, feeling rude but also too worried to care. “Colin. Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m…well, I am doing better than I was a couple of hours ago. Still kinda riding the adrenaline high. Probably going to crash in a few hours real bad but until then. I’m okay.” He doesn’t sound like he’s lying, that Michael can tell. Or doing that thing he sometimes does where he downplays everything wrong before slapping a half smile on and repeating his mantra like the sentence alone could hold everything together.

“Yeah I guess helping turn the game around like that must be a thrill. I saw the quote from the pundit and the highlight reel. Great job babe.” Michael says, right as his phone dings with a message from Rex. She’s got the car and is waiting in the South Lot. 

“Well that and uh,” Colin hesitates. “I kinda came out? To the rest of the team? Except for Roy I guess, he was with Isaac, wasn’t he. But I assume someone will tell him because I dunno if I can say it again today.”

If it was possible to get whiplash from tone, then Michael would need to be in an ambulance. According to his phone’s timestamps Colin had been agonizing over Isaac learning his biggest secret for weeks and now everyone knew? He’d told them?

It must have been during half time. After Isaac was hauled off the fan by security and kicked out of the rest of the match, before Colin took to the field “like a man reborn.” 

“I’m going to need all the details, but not over the phone. We just touched down in Heathrow so give me twenty, maybe twenty five minutes to get to your house.” Michael says, walking as quick as he can while still holding the phone to his ear, heading for what he’s pretty sure is the correct exit. “Unless you’d rather hang with your team?”

“Fuck no.” Colin assures him immediately. “I love them but I miss your face. See you soon.”

“Oh, do you mind grabbing me something to eat? Cheaper and greasier the better.”

“Of course.”

They reach Colin’s house moments before Colin himself. Michael throws himself out of the rental before Rex even has it in park and goes straight for his boyfriend and pulls him into a tight embrace. Colin buries his head in Michael’s neck without a word and drags in a single, ragged breath before he whispers, “I missed you.”

“Me too baby.” After so long with only a single, outdated picture, Michael had forgotten that Colin’s hair is cropped much shorter now. He rakes his fingers through the short strands anyway. “Me too. What happened?”

“So much. Too much. I don’t think I’ve really processed it all yet, honestly.” Colin pulls away but doesn’t go far, just rests his forehead against Michael’s, eyes shut tight.

“Researchers at the Karolinska Institutet found that playing Tetris shortly after a traumatic event can help prevent PTSD symptoms from developing, you know.” Rex says casually.

Colin jumps. “Jesus Christ!”

She’s a short distance away from them, smirking slightly at his alarm. Michael had heard her coming and is unsurprised to find that she’s got his bag in her hands. “You heading out?”

“Unless I need to knock some heads together, yeah.”

They both look expectantly at Colin, who blinks several times before catching their drift. “Oh no! Not necessary. Please don’t beat anyone up on my behalf.”

After so many weeks of playing the obedient housewife, Rex was probably anxious to bruise her knuckles a bit more than the few bodyguards from this morning had allowed, but she accepts this with a simple shrug. When Michael holds out a hand she tosses his bag to him in a smooth motion then heads back for the car. 

Once she’s gone. Colin sighs. “I know she’s your best mate but that woman terrifies me.”

“That’s because you’re smart.” Michael says, and leans in to kiss Colin on the cheek because they’re shielded by the walls of the garage and the street outside is deserted. “Let’s go inside. Play Tetris, tell me everything.”

Colin doesn’t end up playing Tetris, because “all the trauma was from weeks ago, can’t do anything about it now.”  Instead he lays with his head in Michael’s lap and walks Michael through everything while Michael eats the McDonald’s his boyfriend had graciously picked up for him. But only after they’ve changed into something more comfortable than Colin’s post-match finery and the clothes Michael had just spent seven hours wearing on an airplane.

For Colin that means grey sweats and a plain black t shirt. Michael steals himself a pair of shorts and a sweater with the logo of the under 18 club Colin had played for in Wales. 

Starting with the mass leak of celebrity nudes and an inappropriate joke Colin had cracked, Colin tells him everything about the weeks of anguish he’d missed. The fear, guilt, shame, and occasional bursts of anger. Towards both Isaac and himself. All of which had come to head when a fan screamed homophobic slurs at them when Richmond had been down.

“So he won’t talk to you, but he’ll defend you?” 

“Or maybe he was just defending himself.” Colin sighs, shutting his eyes. “I really dunno how he’s feeling. And I hate that. I just wish I could talk to him but he’d already left Nelson Road by the time the match was over. I’ve been too afraid to text him.”

“Oh sweetheart.” murmurs Michael. “I wish I had been here. I wish I could fix this.”

He could bring down multi billion dollar corporations, he could steal holidays and helicopters, but Michael could not reverse time. Even if he went after every supposed ‘fan’ who had ever spit slurs at footballers, even if he could somehow press Isaac into talking to Colin again, he could never erase the hurt Colin had felt. 

Colin sits up suddenly, flipping to face Michael. He cups Michael’s face in his hands with a frown. “You know I don’t blame you at all, right? Nothing about this is your fault and I don’t need you to fix anything. Just having you around again makes things a hundred percent better because I love you.”

“Oh.” Damn it now, he needs those tissues. He breathes in shakily and wraps his arms around Colin to hug him again. 

“So that’s how my six weeks went. How was your trip?”

“Godawful because you weren’t there. Also, I never want to see a rich person again. Or possibly snow. Definitely not wine more than three years old.”

“Several notes. One, you realize that I don’t play football in the Premier League just for fun, right? We get paid ridiculous amounts on top of sponsorships. Two, we live in England. Three, the wine thing is fine with me but never mention it around Richard or he will judge both of us until the day we die.” Colin tilts his head, considering. “Actually his judgment might be the reason we die. He can be intense.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Michael because he can only imagine, given all that he knows about Richmond’s number eight. 

The two of them lay wrapped up in each other on the couch for a while longer, chatting at first about less stressful things, but the conversation eventually dies down. Michael is perfectly happy to listen to the sound of Colin’s even, measured breathing. The idea of sex is floated but neither of them feel much up to it, both wrung out from a long and emotional day.

Colin’s couch is comfortable, his weight a pleasant press. There are a number of decorative pillows and weird blue lighting seems soothing. Michael finds himself drifting off and decides not to fight it. Even if his back would protest in the morning. 

A problem for the morning, Michael thinks happily. 

A loud clang echoing through the house snaps him out of his near sleep stage a half second later.

“What the fuck?” He reaches out wildly. For what, he couldn’t say. A weapon, maybe. Or Rex. Same thing. A month in enemy territory has left him jumpy. 

More confused than alarmed, Colin lifts himself up. “That’s the doorbell. Who would be here at this time of night?”

He looks like he’s about to get up and check, but Michael puts a stop to that with a tug on his trousers. “Haven’t you ever read the Killing Joke? Just check the security cameras.”

“Oh yeah, I forget I have those.”

Michael had made him get them, months ago. He still never armed the alarm when he left and when Michael steals his phone from his pocket and brings up the app, Colin doesn’t even know the password. Luckily, that doesn’t slow Michael down for more than a second. “Oh shit.”

“Shit? What shit?” Colin peers over Michael’s shoulder at the door camera. “Oh shit.”

Downstairs, Isaac McAdoo rings the doorbell a second time and shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Uncomfortable. Waiting. Here, to talk to Colin. Michael hands Colin’s phone back and stands up. His bag is still in Colin’s bedroom with his clothes and trainers but he’s got his phone and the set of lockpicks in the casing. 

“What are you doing?” Colin asks as Michael grabs a pair of Air Jordans that are laying behind the couch. “Where are you going?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Away. You two need to have this conversation alone, and having your boyfriend around is definitely going to just make things worse.” Luckily, they have the same shoe size. Michael has known that for months but never tried on any of Colin’s prized possessions. 

Colin continues to gape, eyes flitting between Michael and the phone in his hand. “But I–”

“Want to talk to Isaac. Go. I’ll leave through the back. Text me later, yeah?”

“Michael, I don’t have a back entrance. Not without going down the stairs and in case you haven’t noticed, the entire front is glass.”

“Right.” Michael finishes tying the laces and straightens, laying his hands on Colin’s shoulders. “I’ll go out the window then, walk a couple blocks then call an Uber. Don’t protest, it’s happening. Good luck.”

He leaves his boyfriend there with one last, short kiss. The windows open wide enough to climb through and after over a month in the mountains, the cold doesn’t faze him, even wearing shorts. The amount of glass involved in the making of Colin’s house gives him a bit of trouble but again, he’s had plenty of practice lately. 

Concealed by the dark of the night (when had it gotten so late?) Michael spares a few moments to spy. Colin and Isaac have a brief conversation on the doorstep before Colin steps back, door open. Good. Isaac climbs the glass stairs with ease and disappears out of view. Colin lingers for a moment, smiling into the night, before following his best mate in.

Michael stares at the pieces of the puzzle, and it seems to him that they stare back. Both his feet are numb from sitting cross legged on the floor for so long, but leaning over the low coffee table while laying on the couch had been equally uncomfortable. This was a no-win situation. 

The stupid puzzle is mocking Michael. The picture, a collection of wild flowers with various insects dotted around it, was pretty to look at but hell to assemble. There was so much green! So many different shades, all crisscrossing and…

The knock is so loud and sudden that Michael actually jumps. His knee hits the table, sending a burst of pain through his already sore body and jostling the few pieces that he’d managed to put together in the…however long he’d been sitting here.

“Coming, coming.” He calls out to the best of his ability, throat aching. 

The person trying to break down his door must not hear it, because they keep knocking. When Michael stands, his feet tingle with static as the blood returns to the extremities. Unrelated to that, his head spins so bad that he has to grab the back of his couch to keep from falling right back down.

All in all, Michael is very distracted as he makes his way to the front hallway. Distracted enough that he doesn’t check the peephole before opening the door to find out what is so urgent that he’s been made to move from his moderately comfortable floor. ( Hypocrite , Colin would say if he were here.) So his shock at the identity of his visitor is clear for Isaac to see when the door opens to reveal the footballer standing on Michael’s front step, fist still raised.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Isaac nods, like Michael has just said something profound. “You’re alive, then.”

“What? Of course I am.What are you doing here, Isaac?” How did you get my address? Obviously, the answer to that was Colin, but why?

“Col sent me to make sure you weren’t dead or somethin’ since you started texting gibberish then stopped replying at all. He and somebody named Rex called but you didn’t pick up. So,” Isaac waves a hand, encompassing himself. So here I am. “You good bruv?”

Oh. Michael had vague recollections of that. It had happened shortly after taking what little cold medicine he had left in his cabinet. Then he’d put his phone down…somewhere. It would come to him. The battery had been nearly dead anyway, and his only charger upstairs. That was too far away to be worth bothering with. He had other phones around, burners for work, but Michael didn’t feel like bothering with them either. The horrible green puzzle and boring daytime television reruns were enough.

Realizing Isaac is staring at him, still waiting for an answer, Michael backtracks. Tries to remember what he’d been asked. “Uh, just feeling a little under the weather. One of my coworkers passed on a thing just before I jumped on a plane. It’ll pass soon.”

Damn Keith. Normally Michael would be thrilled to work with one of the new recruits, because welcoming someone into a life of crime and inducting them into the rituals of Leverage was fun. Watching them learn and grow, seeing the potential beneath their nerves and inexperience. But after a six week long con, he had been entitled to a break.

Rex had gotten hers. She was currently sunning herself on a beach in the Bahamas. Michael had elected to take his holiday at home since all he wanted was to be around Colin as much as possible. But then Hurley had called to say that he really needed an experienced hacker and maker on a job he was doing in Tennessee and his original pick had fallen through by getting arrested in Turkey and the New Orleans crew was going to bust him out so he couldn’t ask Breana so please Michael could you help? Hurley had obviously felt horrible about asking but Michael hadn’t hesitated in saying yes.

It had been a quick and fun thing, nothing like the job Michael had just gotten off of. He always loved a good Kansas City Shuffle. And again, new recruits were fun. The only downsides had been being separated from Colin after only a short time back together, missing Colin get the call up to play for Wales, and this stupid aching feeling in his whole body. At least he’d only thrown up twice. 

Isaac eyes him with heavy scrutiny and brings his hand up to press the back against Michael’s forehead without warning. Michael flinches away out of instinct, getting as far as the doorframe. “Slight fever. You take anything?”

“A while ago, and it…might have been expired, actually.”

“Hn. When was the last time you ate something?”

Math is hard, but he considers the slant of the sun in the sky and takes a shot in the dark. “Ten hours?”

“That a statement or a question? Budge over.”

“Under the impression that he’s my mum though,” Colin had said, back when they first met. Apparently that now extended to Michael too. Or maybe the captain was just a care-taker by nature and Isaac would shoo anyone sick back into their house and follow them with the intention to make them some food. Michael couldn’t be sure. 

The two of them troop past the living room and Michael’s sad sick camp (puzzle, blankets, three mugs that had once held tea, a trash can that thankfully wasn’t filled with vomit at the moment) and into the kitchen where Michael is instructed to sit himself on one of the counter stools. There’s no room for argument in Isaac’s voice.

After a thorough examination of Michael’s cupboards and fridge, Isaac looks put out. “You have no food here.”

“I travel a lot, so I try to avoid things that would go bad.” It comes out more defensive than he means it to. “You’re saying your kitchen is fully stocked and you cook every day instead of ordering take away?”

Isaac looks at Michael over the rims of his glasses. Judging. Shit. 

“No, because that wouldn’t fit with your meal plan.” He realizes. “I’ve got most of the stuff for the soup Colin likes?”

Nodding, Isaac pulls out the chicken stock. For a while it’s quiet other than Isaac posing short questions and Michael replying with the location of various ingredients or utensils. Neither of them are like Colin, who delights in filling empty silence with mindless chatter and bad rapping.

Until it occurs to Michael that this was exactly what he had wanted back when he’d been invited to Ola’s. A chance to get to know Isaac. He can’t throw that away just because of any aching throat. 

When the soup is on, Isaac makes them both tea and gets out his phone to do some texting. Probably assuring Colin that Michael was, in fact, alive. There’s a lot of other activity that can’t be attributed to Michael’s boyfriend though. Probably a group chat or two. Colin seemed to be in a thousand of them with various combinations of people from Nelson Road.

Michael finds an opening when Isaac seems to get annoyed by something happening on his phone and puts it facedown on the counter with a grunt. “So how are the international matches going?”

Football was a good, safe subject. A great conversation opener. Isaac gives him some stats and explains better than Colin had what the whole thing was about. But he only really opens up when he starts to talk about the guys from AFC Richmond who’d been called up. Colin, obviously. Jamie too. Zoreaux and Dani had gone head to head a few days ago in a fierce match that might might cause some tension when they both get back to England. Bumbercatch would be playing for Switzerland tomorrow and the team was going to break from training early to watch again.

Sam had not been called up. 

Isaac says this in a tone that means there was something else going on behind it, or why even bring it up? A lover of puzzles and mysteries, Michael wants to prod. Gently, of course. He could probably get the whole story without Isaac even realizing it. But he’s distracted by Isaac taking the soup off the stove and dishing it into a single bowl. “Aren’t you going to eat too?”

“ ‘m not the sick one.” Isaac says.

“Yeah but you cooked. Have some.”

“Fine.” 

Isaac takes a seat across from Michael and they lapse back into silence. Michael eats slowly, in part because the soup is still hot. He’s also cautious about eating too much or too fast. The tea had settled his stomach enough that he manages to finish one bowl and most of a second.

Since Isaac only has one bowl, there’s plenty left. That goes into the fridge before Isaac starts cleaning the kitchen. When Michael objects and tries to help, he’s pointed back to his seat. 

“Look, I really appreciate this, but you should get going. I don’t want to get you sick too.” Michael says, as Isaac starts washing up. “Actually I should have said this at the beginning–”

He’s cut off by Isaac saying, “I haven’t gotten ill in ten years. I’ll be fine.”

“I– ten years , really? Not even some sniffles?”

“Yeah. Immune system of steel. Da says it’s because I used to eat everythin’ even what I found on the ground.” Isaac puffs up with pride, which wouldn’t be how Michael personally responded to that, but to each their own he supposes. 

There’s another knock at the door. This has to be some sort of record, and Isaac must have left the gate open when he came though because it required a code. Or someone had scaled the gate, or hacked the system. Presumably they’d have heard if someone rammed the gate down. More alert than he had been earlier, Michael tenses.

Isaac looks as if he’d been expecting it. “Gimme a sec.”

He disappears, talks briefly to whoever is at the door, and returns with a brown paper bag. 

From the bag, Isaac pulls a number of medications. General cold and flu things, throat spray, cough drops. Also a bag of Michael’s favorite crisps. “Colin ordered it online,” Isaac explains, correctly interpreting Michael’s confused expression. 

Michael’s heart warms. He really, really loved that man. Even from another country and neck deep in training, Colin was amazing. Why hadn’t Michael realized that he could get medicines delivered right to his doorstep? There was an app for everything these days.

Marking that oversight as a result of the cold, Michael accepts the shot of ugly purple liquid Isaac pours him. It burns as it goes down and tastes nothing like grapes. Two pills and a glass of water are also obediently taken. 

“This stuff’s gonna make you sleepy, which is good.” Isaac says. “Go to bed, in a proper bed, not on the couch. Being proper comfy will fix you faster.”

“My couch is plenty comfy.” Michael half lies, because it’s an ancient cheap thing that had once been cloud-like. Nowadays it was good only for short naps and movie night snogging. 

Isaac narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Bed.”

He should reassure Isaac that he’ll do as he’s told and usher him out the door but he’s too tired now for blatant untruths. “It’s upstairs. That’s too far away.” Maybe in a bit, once the medicine takes effect, he’ll be able to brave the stairs. 

“Is that all? Hold these.” The paper delivery bag, restocked with all the meds for ease of transport, is pushed into Michael’s hands. Then without another word Isaac steps behind Michael, places one hand on his shoulder, bends down a bit, and scoops.

Michael lets out a single, startled noise as his stomach swoops and then he’s being carried towards the staircase like a bride on her wedding night. 

The unhurried pace Isaac takes gives Michael plenty of time to process what’s happening. As he relaxes into Isaac’s grip, he feels funny for an entirely different reason. Because Rex and Colin’s similarities in build showed that he had a type but who wouldn’t swoon at someone like Isaac McAdoo carrying them up stairs and depositing them into bed with insane gentleness?

Stronger men than Michael. Maybe.

The bag is placed on the bedside table as Michael shimmies under the blankets. The bed really is a lot more comfortable than the couch. Better, the pillow on the right side smells like Colin. Michael pulls it towards him and shamelessly buries his face in it. Briefly though, because he’s still pretty congested and breathing is hard enough right now on its own.

Isaac fidgets about the room, setting the meds out for easier access, bringing the cup Michael kept in the ensuite bathroom out filled with water so that he’ll have it there when he wakes up. Then he gets ready to leave. Opens his mouth to ask if there was anything else Michael needed, to remind him to find his phone and call Colin back, to say goodbye. 

He’ll shut the door and leave Michael once again alone in the silence of his house that feels much too big right now. Michael hates falling asleep in silence. His exhausted body doesn’t match his mind, which yearns for stimulation. Something better than the unsolvable puzzle. “Wait.”

Isaac does. 

“Could you…could you read to me? Until I fall asleep?” This is so stupid. Isaac isn’t actually his mum. “Or just a chapter? I just need something to distract me.”

“Sure, bruv. Any book?” 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

There are a lot of books in Michael’s room, and Isaac carefully considers the ones closest to him before deciding on the top of the stack he has to move off the only chair in the room. He sits down and straightens his glasses, flipping delicately to the first page. The studious picture makes Michael smile. He wishes he did have his phone, to send a picture to his boyfriend. 

“It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far…”