#bellingham

A half-empty mug of coffee sat beside yours, still faintly steaming, while Jude’s was already drained except for the faint ring at the bottom. The blanket you’d pulled over your legs sometime after breakfast had slipped halfway to the floor, one corner pooling near his bare feet. Denise had left earlier for her yoga class; you’d caught her in the kitchen making coffee and the two of you had chatted softly about nothing important while Jude was still half-asleep upstairs. Now the place felt gently emptied out, just the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional distant sound of traffic filtering up from the street below.

You were curled into the corner of the big sectional sofa, legs tucked under you, still in the soft Alo workout set you’d thrown on after your early Pilates class. The fabric was comfortable, slightly sweat-damp from the session, and it smelled faintly of the lavender detergent you used at your own place. Jude lounged at the other end, barefoot in white joggers that rode low on his hips and an oversized black T-shirt that had seen better days. He had one arm stretched along the back of the sofa, the other holding the remote loosely as he scrolled through YouTube with the casual indifference of someone who wasn’t really looking for anything specific.

A football skills compilation started playing, some kid in Brazil doing ridiculous step-overs, and Jude let out a soft huff of amusement, tilting his head. “Look at that touch,” he murmured, more to himself than you, though his gaze flicked your way for half a second. His fingers tapped idly against the cushion near your shoulder, a small unconscious rhythm. You kept scrolling through your phone, smiling faintly at a friend’s story, the comfortable silence stretching between you like it always did on these mornings. No need to fill it.

After a few minutes the video switched to a chaotic British cooking clip, someone attempting to make Sunday roast in what looked like a student kitchen. Jude laughed under his breath, the sound low and easy, and shifted his weight so his leg stretched out, his bare foot nudging gently against your ankle. “You seeing this? Bloke’s about to burn the whole flat down. Reminds me of that time I tried cooking for the lads last year. Disaster.”

You glanced up, lowering your phone a fraction. “You mean the time you set off the smoke alarm making toast?”

“It was fancy toast tho,” he corrected, grinning. His foot stayed resting against yours, warm skin against skin, a casual point of contact that neither of you acknowledged. He reached over without looking away from the screen and stole your phone for a second, tilting it to see what you’d been looking at. “Instagram again? You’re ignoring my superior entertainment over here.”

You snatched it back with a quiet laugh, bumping his knee with yours in retaliation. “Your superior entertainment is a man crying over lumpy gravy. I’m catching up on actual human lives.”

“Harsh,” he said, but his eyes crinkled with amusement. He stretched, the oversized shirt riding up slightly, then settled again, this time scooting a little closer under the pretense of adjusting the blanket. His hand landed lightly on your thigh, just above the knee, thumb brushing once in an absentminded circle before it stilled.

The YouTube algorithm wandered next to a funny animal video, then back to a quick highlight reel of his own goals from last season. Jude watched himself on the screen with a small, self-deprecating shake of his head. “Still can’t believe that one went in. Felt terrible off the boot.”

You set your phone down on the cushion between you, finally giving the screen more attention. The sunlight shifted, warming the side of his face and highlighting the details across his nose that only showed up in certain angle.

Minutes passed like that, easy, unhurried. He commented on the videos occasionally, voice relaxed and expressive, and you offered small replies or teasing jabs that made him chuckle. Jude's hand stayed on your leg, fingers occasionally tapping along to some internal beat only he could hear. At one point he nudged your foot again with his, hooking his ankle loosely behind yours for a moment before letting go, all without taking his eyes off the TV.

Eventually the videos looped into something quieter, a travel vlog through Spanish countryside. Jude’s thumb resumed its slow, unconscious sweep on your thigh. “We should do something like that one off-season,” he said softly. “Just drive somewhere. No schedule.”

You turned your head to look at him properly. He was already watching you instead of the screen, that playful spark still in his eyes but softened around the edges by the lazy morning. “Only if you promise not to turn it into a fitness bootcamp.”

He smiled, slow and genuine, the kind that showed how much he was enjoying his morning off.“No promises. But I’ll let you pick the playlist.” The teasing lilt in his voice lingered, and something in the way you held his gaze made the moment stretch.

You raised an eyebrow. “Let me? Generous of you.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him, warm and close. He leaned in just a fraction, as if to deliver another retort, but the words didn’t come. Instead the look held: comfortable, familiar, the kind built from nights spent side by side and mornings exactly like this. His smile softened further, you smiled back, raising your eyebrows in an attempt to mirror the question in your head: "what's wrong?".

His thumb continued its slow sweep on your thigh, the motion so habitual it seemed he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. The oversized black T-shirt had twisted slightly around his torso from all the shifting, and a faint line from the sofa cushion pressed into his cheek where he’d been leaning earlier.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said after a beat, voice low and a little rough from the quiet morning. The corner of his mouth quirked higher, like he could see the question behind your raised brows. “Just thinking you look comfortable. Proper relaxed. Suits you.” He gave your thigh a light, affectionate squeeze, the kind that said he liked having you here more than any grand statement could. His foot found yours again under the slipped blanket, toes brushing lazily against your ankle before hooking gently behind it, anchoring the contact.

You let out a soft breath of amusement, the kind that wasn’t quite a laugh but carried the same ease. “High praise from someone who just spent twenty minutes watching himself on YouTube.”

Jude chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating faintly where his arm still rested along the back of the sofa near your shoulders.

He didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in a fraction more, drawn by the familiar rhythm of your teasing. The travel vlog played on, forgotten now, rolling hills and olive groves flickering across the screen while neither of you glanced at it. His free hand lifted from the remote, landing lightly on the cushion between you before his fingers found the edge of your workout top, tracing the seam near your hip in an absent, exploratory way. Not purposeful. Just the natural drift of touch when words felt secondary.

“Oi, I was scouting technique,” he murmured, eyes still on yours. The Brummie lilt thickened a touch with the lazy drawl of morning. “Important research. You should be impressed.” His thumb brushed higher on your thigh, then stilled as he tilted his head slightly, studying the way the sunlight caught in your hair. The space between your faces had narrowed without either of you deciding to close it, close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, coffee and the faint mint from his toothpaste earlier.

One of his knees pressed against yours, solid and warm through the thin layers of clothing. His fingers at your hip slipped under the hem of your top by a centimeter, not seeking, just resting skin to skin in that unconscious way he did when the morning felt slow and safe.

Then you said something small, half a tease about his “research methods”, and Jude’s eyes crinkled with another quiet laugh. That laugh brought him the last inch. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, almost an extension of the shared smile, the kind of accidental contact that happens when two people are already leaning into the same small orbit. He exhaled softly against your mouth, the sound carrying a hint of surprise and delight, before pressing in again with more intention. The kiss stayed gentle, exploratory, his lips warm and slightly dry from the morning air. You felt him smile into it, the curve unmistakable, and when your noses bumped he pulled back just enough to let out a low, breathy chuckle that fanned across your cheek.

“Clumsy today,” he whispered, voice laced with amusement, but he didn’t move far. His hand slid from your thigh to your waist, palm broad and steady, fingers splaying naturally against the curve there as he drew you a little nearer. The other hand came up to cradle the side of your jaw, thumb tracing the line of your cheek in a slow sweep. He leaned back in, the rhythm unhurried, kisses that lingered and shifted, sometimes softer, sometimes a touch deeper, guided by the quiet give and take of breathing together. His fingers threaded lightly into the hair at the nape of your neck, not gripping, just holding with the same casual affection he showed in everything else.

You tasted the lingering coffee on him, felt the faint scratch of stubble against your skin when he tilted his head. Another soft laugh escaped him when your hand found the front of his oversized T-shirt, bunching the fabric slightly. He paused once, forehead resting against yours, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you up close, really looked, the kind of pause that said he was savoring the ordinary miracle of this exact moment.

Then Jude shifted, the sofa creaking faintly under his weight as he rearranged himself. He leaned back more fully into the corner of the sectional, stretching one long leg out along the cushions before patting his thigh in a clear, casual invitation. His gaze stayed on you, playful but soft, the corner of his mouth lifted in that familiar half-smile. “Come here,” he said quietly, voice low and easy, like it was the most natural suggestion in the world.

You hesitated, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes properly. “Really?”

He raised his eyebrows, nodding once with an amused little tilt of his head, as if to say yes, really. “What, you acting shy now?” The teasing lilt crept back into his tone, warm and familiar. “Not like it’s our first kiss or anything.”

Your gaze flicked briefly toward the direction of the front door, the quiet of the apartment suddenly feeling a little more fragile. Denise could walk back in from yoga at any minute. The thought made you pause, even as the warmth of his hand lingered at your waist. Jude seemed to read it on your face immediately. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Oh, c’mon,” he said, patting his thigh again, more insistently this time. “My mum likes you more than me anyway. She knows we sleep together—she’s not blind.” His fingers gave your side a gentle squeeze, reassuring and playful all at once. “She’s probably doing extra sun salutations just to give us time.”

The silence stretched for another beat, your hesitancy still written across your expression. Jude’s eyes softened further, the competitive edge melting into something gentler, more coaxing. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face with the back of his knuckles. “C’mon baby,” he murmured, the endearments slipping out naturally. “Come here.” He patted his thigh one more time, an open invitation, then added with a low, boyish laugh, “Let your boyfriend have some motivation this morning, yeah? Before I have to go get shouted at on the pitch.”

The words, delivered with that expressive, slightly cheeky grin, finally tipped the balance. You moved, and Jude helped guide you with easy hands on your hips, settling you astride his lap so your knees sank into the cushions on either side of him. The position brought you closer, chests brushing, his oversized T-shirt bunching between you. His hands settled naturally at your waist, thumbs tracing small circles through the soft fabric of your workout set, while he looked up at you with open affection. No rush. Just the same comfortable intimacy that had carried the whole morning, now wrapped a little tighter.

“See? Not bad at all,” he murmured, voice low and warm with that playful lilt, one eyebrow raised like he was proving a point. His hands gave your waist a gentle squeeze, more reassurance than anything else, before one slid slowly up your back, palm broad and steady against the fabric of your top. “Come here,” he added softly, the words almost under his breath as he tilted his chin up.

You leaned down and the kiss picked up where it had left off, slow at first, familiar. Jude smiled against your mouth the moment your lips met, the curve of it impossible to miss. His hand at your waist stayed put, thumb still moving in those absent circles, while the other drifted up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers threading lightly into your hair. The contact was constant but easy, like he simply preferred some part of him touching you at all times. When your noses bumped awkwardly he broke the kiss with a quiet laugh, forehead resting against yours for a second as he caught his breath.

“Seriously?” he teased, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Every time.” But he didn’t pull away. He just tilted his head the other direction and leaned back in, the kiss deepening a touch, unhurried. His fingers at the back of your neck rubbed gently, a soothing rhythm, while his other hand slipped lower to rest on your thigh, palm warm through your leggings. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest against yours, the steady beat of his heart.

He kept the little comments coming between breaths, nothing elaborate, just the natural flow of his thoughts. “Missed this,” he whispered against your lips at one point, the words slipping out like they were nothing and everything at once. When you smiled into the next kiss he let out another soft laugh, the sound vibrating between you, and paused again, forehead to forehead, eyes half-open as he studied your face up close. “You alright?” he asked quietly, thumb brushing along your jaw now, checking in the way he always did: casual, genuine, never making a big deal of it.

You nodded, and he smiled again—the make-out stayed lazy and affectionate, the kind that ebbed and flowed with the quiet morning rather than racing anywhere. His hand on your thigh gave a light squeeze when you shifted closer, then moved back to your waist, anchoring you gently.

Eventually the kisses slowed of their own accord, not because either of you wanted to stop, but because there was nowhere left to rush. They dissolved into smaller moments instead—his lips lingering once against the corner of yours, another absent kiss to your cheek, the bridge of your nose, your forehead. His breathing gradually evened beneath you, the lazy rhythm matching your own until the room fell quiet again.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

The travel vlog had wandered somewhere along the southern coast now, the narrator enthusiastically explaining a tiny seaside village neither of you had been paying attention to for the last ten minutes. Sunlight had crept further across the living room, warming the edge of the coffee table and catching the forgotten mugs still sitting where you'd left them after breakfast.

Jude's hand never really stopped moving.

It rested against the small of your back now, fingertips tracing slow, thoughtless patterns through the fabric of your top while the other remained comfortably around your waist. It wasn't an attempt to start anything again. It was simply what his hands seemed to do whenever you were close enough to reach.

You let your head settle against his shoulder, your cheek brushing the soft cotton of his T-shirt. From here you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath it, slower now than it had been only moments before. His chin came to rest lightly against the top of your head.

For someone whose life was measured in fixture lists, departure gates and recovery schedules, Jude had always been unexpectedly good at doing absolutely nothing.

He never seemed to grow restless in moments like these. There was no instinct to reach for his phone, no urge to fill the silence simply because it existed. He was content to let the apartment breathe around the two of you, to let the television chatter unnoticed in the background, to trace absent patterns against your back without any destination in mind. It was one of the first things you'd learned about him, and somehow one of the things you cherished most.

author's note — no one is going to read this so wtv heheheh BALLBLR PLS ACCEPT ME. cozy makeout with jude >>>>>

the problem with quiet nights was that eventually, they became too quiet.

not the peaceful kind of quiet. the kind where both people were comfortable enough to do absolutely nothing, but somehow still managed to be bored out of their minds.

the movie had ended nearly twenty minutes ago, the credits had long disappeared from the screen, and the empty bowls from dinner were still abandoned on the coffee table because neither of them had the energy to get up and move them.

jude was lying beside her, one arm tucked behind his head, casually scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t been staring at the same few apps for the last ten minutes. she knew because she’d been watching him do absolutely nothing while claiming he was “relaxing.”

she, on the other hand, was staring at the ceiling, silently searching for something—anything—that could save them from another hour of sitting in comfortable boredom. they had already watched two movies, spent far too much money on food they definitely didn’t need, and wasted at least forty minutes arguing over what to watch next.

somehow, she had gotten her way. a tragedy jude had been silently mourning ever since the opening scene.

“i still think my choice would’ve been better.” he announced, finally tearing his eyes away from his phone to stare at the blank TV screen like he was still personally offended by the movie.

she slowly turned her head towards him, raising an eyebrow. for a moment, she just stared at him, waiting for him to realize how ridiculous he sounded.

“jude,” she said, pressing her lips together to stop herself from laughing. “you spent the entire movie complaining.”

he stared at her in disbelief, giving her leg a light nudge with his foot, like the tiny gesture alone was enough to defend himself.

“i did not,” he insisted, his voice carrying the kind of offense usually reserved for much bigger accusations.

she let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she turned towards him. “you sighed every five minutes.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but she continued before he could. “not even subtle ones either. full dramatic sighs.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, already knowing she wasn’t finished.

“you said the plot made no sense,” she said, far too pleased with herself, leaning back against the sofa like she had just presented undeniable evidence. “you paused the movie to ask me how much longer was left.”

before he could defend himself, she stretched her leg out and gently tapped his with hers, the satisfied smile on her face making it obvious she knew she had him.

“hey,” he protested, looking down at where she’d bumped him, then smoothly right back at her.

“what?” she blinked at him, putting on the most innocent expression she could manage, even though the smile threatening to appear gave her away.

jude narrowed his eyes.

“did you just kick me?” he glanced down at where her foot was still resting against his leg, looking genuinely betrayed.

“you’re a professional footballer, jude. surely you can handle a tiny kick.”

for a second, he just looked at her.

then the corner of his mouth lifted, that familiar smug little smile appearing like he’d suddenly found a way to win the argument after all.

“i can handle a lot more than that for you, baby.” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing murmur, far too confident for someone who had just been complaining about a harmless kick.

“are you seriously trying to flirt your way out of losing an argument?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him.

jude didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“maybe,” he simply smiled, reaching over to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl between them like he hadn’t just been caught trying to charm his way out of losing.

the argument was over. well… as over as anything could be with jude. he never actually admitted she was right, and she knew better than to expect him to, but eventually they both decided the movie debate had gone on long enough.

so they moved on. by doing absolutely nothing.

he went back to scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing her random videos he found funny. she pretended not to care, then laughed at almost every single one. he stole some of her snacks. she stole them back. he complained like she had committed a serious crime despite the fact that he was the one who started it.

somehow, this became their activity for the next fifteen minutes. which would’ve been fine… if they weren’t still bored.

she looked around the living room, then at him, then back at the living room… then back at him.

she shifted closer to him, closing the small space between them until she was tucked against his side, mostly because she had run out of ideas and partly because being bored was easier when she was annoying him.

jude’s eyes left his phone, narrowing slightly as he looked down at her.

“why are you doing that?”

she blinked. “doing what?”

he gave her a look, the kind that said he already knew she was planning something.

“that.”

“she glanced down at herself, pretending to be confused. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“no,” he said, setting his phone down. “you’re plotting.”

a laugh almost escaped her. “i’m not plotting.”

he looked down at her, his expression changing slightly — not surprised, just amused, like he already knew she was lying.

“careful.”

she looked up at him. “what?”

jude’s mouth twitched as he watched her, already suspicious. he set his phone down beside him and tilted his head slightly.

“you’re either about to ask me for something or start trouble.”

she smiled, completely caught but not even trying to deny it. “maybe both.”

“i knew it.” his lips curved into a small smile as he looked away, like he was trying not to encourage her. then he shifted slightly beside her, turning his body more towards her as he waited, already knowing she was about to suggest something.

“jude,” she whined, letting her head fall back against the sofa. “we need to do something. we’ve officially reached the point where we’re bored of being bored.”

he didn’t answer immediately but his attention was fully on her now. his phone had been long forgotten somewhere on the sofa, abandoned the second he realized she was definitely up to something.

she turned her head towards him.

“jude.”

he looked at her, already knowing from her tone that she wasn’t going to let this go. “i heard you.”

she waited a second, then shifted closer, eventually resting her head against his shoulder as she waited for his answer.

“and?” she asked patiently.

jude looked down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. he shifted slightly on the sofa, getting more comfortable as if he genuinely needed time to consider the most important decision of the night.

“i’m thinking.”

she stayed quiet for a moment, her head still resting against his shoulder, waiting for his so-called “thinking” to lead somewhere. the silence stretched. she looked up at him.

“are you actually thinking, or are you just sitting there looking like you are?” she asked, watching his overly serious expression for a moment before a laugh threatened to escape. the way he looked so focused made it almost impossible not to laugh.

then his expression turned offended.

“wow,” he lightly squeezed her cheek between his fingers, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “the disrespect.”

she let out a small laugh, turning her face slightly away from his hand. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m hurt.”

“you’ll survive.”

“barely.”

she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

then she went quiet. not bored quiet. thinking quiet. jude noticed.

“why do i feel like that silence means trouble?”

her smile grew wider as the idea fully formed. she lifted her head from his shoulder, turning towards him with sudden excitement.

“i have an idea.” her eyes lit up as she brought her hands together in a quick clap. “hear me out.”

his eyes immediately narrowed. he knew that tone. the last time she had said “hear me out,” it had never been followed by anything normal.

“i don’t like where this is going,” he said, though the small smile on his face betrayed him.

she ignored him, a grin spreading across her face as she pushed herself up from the sofa.

“hide and seek.” she said it like she had just come up with the greatest idea in history.

jude stared at her. for a moment, he genuinely looked like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence. “…hide and seek?”

she nodded, completely serious. he blinked, glancing around the room before looking back at her.

“you’re serious,” the small smile on his face gave away that he wasn’t actually against it — he was just trying to understand how they had gone from being bored on the sofa to this. “we’re really doing this?”

“yes, go hide.”

he stayed exactly where he was on the sofa, staring up at her like he was waiting for her to reveal that this was a joke.

“that’s it?”

she looked back at him, confused by his confusion.

“that’s it.”

“you’re not even going to explain the rules?”

“jude, it’s hide and seek. i think you’ll manage.” she gave him a shrug.

a slow, confident grin spread across his face as he finally pushed himself off the sofa. he straightened to his full height, looking down at her like he’d just accepted the challenge of a lifetime.

“don’t come crying to me when you can’t find me,” he said, his voice full of mock confidence. “you clearly underestimate my hiding abilities.”

“please,” she said with a quiet laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “i bet i could find you in under a minute.”

he looked at her in complete disbelief, “you really think i can’t hide?” his eyebrows shooting up for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“jude…” she looked him up and down, making a very obvious show of it before meeting his eyes again. “you’re six foot something.”

he frowned.

“six foot one.” he corrected, as if the extra precision somehow strengthened his case. he folded his arms, looking at her expectantly. “so?”

she blinked. “…and you think you’re gonna disappear?”

he didn’t hesitate.

“yes,” he answered with effortless confidence, like the answer was painfully obvious. the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug smile as he shrugged one shoulder. “i fail to see how’s that relevant.”

she looked at him for a second. then another. trying—unsuccessfully—to keep a straight face.

“jude…” she shook her head, a laugh already escaping her. “because you’re built like a lamp post.”

the silence that followed lasted all of half a second. then she completely lost it. a burst of laughter escaped her as she bent forward, one hand flying to her stomach while the other reached for his arm to steady herself.

jude instinctively glanced down at himself, turning slightly as if checking whether she might somehow have a point.

“…i’m not built like a lamp post.” he looked back at her with complete sincerity, sounding genuinely offended by the comparison.

she completely lost it. she managed between laughs, shaking her head. “i can’t believe you actually checked.”

she was still laughing when he looked at her for another second, clearly deciding that words weren’t going to win this argument. a small, determined smile tugged at his lips.

“right,” he muttered.

before she could say anything else, he turned on his heel and took off down the hallway. she stared after him, completely caught off guard. for a second, she just stood there, trying to process what had happened. then she blinked.

“did you just run away?”

a few seconds of silence followed. then his voice echoed from somewhere upstairs. “you said hide!”

she pressed her lips together, already fighting another laugh.

“jude,” she called back, already knowing this was going to be a disaster. “you’re supposed to hide, not announce your escape!”

she shook her head, still smiling as she made her way upstairs, listening carefully. the confidence he had disappeared with was honestly impressive. he had spent the last five minutes insisting he had “hiding abilities,” and now she was about to find out if that was actually true. she walked slowly down the hallway, looking into each room. the house was quiet. too quiet.

“jude?”

no answer. she let out a quiet huff of amusement and continued down the hallway until she reached the bedroom. she pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. nothing immediately caught her attention. she stepped in, looking around the room.

“okay,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “you’re really trying this time.”

a small movement near the window caught her attention. she stopped. slowly, she turned her head towards the curtain. she took a few steps closer, already trying to hold back a laugh. and then she saw it. jude was behind the curtain. or, more accurately, jude had attempted to be behind the curtain. because while the curtain was doing its best to hide the upper half of him, his legs were completely visible underneath.

she just stood there. looking at him. looking at his very obvious legs sticking out. then back at the curtain. she had to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing. the funniest part was that he wasn’t even moving. he was completely still, probably convinced that his plan was flawless. a six-foot-something professional footballer, hiding behind a curtain like he had just mastered the art of invisibility. she stared for another second.

“jude.”

silence.

she looked down at his legs again. “seriously?”

behind the curtain, he stayed perfectly still. which somehow made it even worse.

“your legs are out,” a laugh slipped from her lips. “like…really out.”

for a moment, she expected him to admit defeat. instead, his voice came from behind the curtain.

“they are not.” he was far too confident for someone whose hiding spot had already been exposed.

she rubbed a hand over her face, completely speechless, before glancing down again, just to make sure she wasn’t somehow imagining the very obvious pair of legs sticking out.

she slowly pointed at him. “your entire body is outside the curtain.”

she could practically hear him trying to come up with a response. he slowly looked down, as if he was only now checking whether she was telling the truth. his eyes landed on his very visible legs sticking out from underneath the curtain.

“…how unfortunate.” he said it with complete seriousness, like he had just discovered a major flaw in an otherwise perfect plan.

she burst into laughter. jude sighed, finally stepping out from behind the curtain with as much dignity as he could possibly recover. he straightened his shirt, acting like nothing embarrassing had happened.

“i was warming up.” he said it casually, with the kind of confidence that made it obvious he expected her to believe him.

she pinched the bridge of her nose, still trying to process the fact that he had just called standing behind a curtain “warming up.”

“you know warming up usually involves moving, right?” she blinked.

he looked at her, completely unfazed. “i was mentally preparing.” he scratched the back of his neck and glanced away briefly before meeting her eyes again.

“for what?

“the next round.”

before she could answer, he walked past her with a suspicious amount of confidence. she turned around, watching him with disbelief as he started walking away again. “you’re going again?”

“obviously.” he glanced back at her, like the answer was obvious.

“i found you under a minute.” she let out a small laugh.

there was a brief pause where he looked like he was deciding how to respond. then, with complete confidence:

“i was testing you. wanted to see how quickly you’d figure it out.”

“right,” she said slowly, clearly not believing a word of it. “round two, you have sixty seconds.”

“that’s not enough time.” he looked offended.

she shrugged, already amused. “maybe don’t choose a hiding spot where your legs introduce themselves first.”

jude clicked his tongue, folding his arms across his chest.

“the curtain let me down.” he sighed dramatically, sounding genuinely disappointed by its lack of cooperation.

she tilted her head, amusement clear on her face. “of course you’d blame the curtain.”

he looked like he was about to defend himself again, already preparing another explanation. she waved him off, trying not to laugh again.

“go now, i’m counting.”

he opened his mouth, probably ready with another excuse, but she was already covering her eyes and facing the wall.

“one…”

the second she started counting, she heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway.

“two…”

a door opened somewhere nearby. she paused for half a second.

“three…” she raised an eyebrow.

the closet. or maybe the bathroom. then came a small thud. something had definitely fallen. let’s hope it wasn’t jude.

she bit back a laugh.

“please tell me that wasn’t you,” she whispered to herself, even though she already had a feeling it was.

“four…”

knowing him, he was probably standing completely still, hoping the noise would somehow disappear. there was silence. then she heard it. a quiet sound from somewhere in the house — like he was trying desperately not to laugh. she smiled, shaking her head as she continued counting.

“five…”

by the time she reached the end, she already had a feeling this round was going to be just as ridiculous as the first. she lowered her hand and turned around.

“ready or not…” she paused for a moment, letting the silence build. “here i come.”

she walked towards the open doorway, glancing down the hallway. she checked the bathroom first. nothing. she stepped inside for a second, looking around just to be sure. she paused, her eyes moving from the shower to the bathtub.

“okay, progress,” she muttered, almost impressed. “good. at least we’re not at the point where you’re hiding in the shower.”

she left the bathroom, glancing back down the hallway. it was quiet. then she noticed the guest room door. it was slightly closed. a smile tugged at her lips. that was suspicious. she walked towards the room, her steps quieter as she approached the door. she pushed it open slowly, looking around. the room was empty. no movement. no obvious signs of jude. no feet sticking out, no curtains involved, no disaster waiting to happen.

she had to give him that much — he had learned from his mistakes. she stayed quiet for a moment, letting herself believe he might have actually pulled it off. then she noticed the closet. the one place in the room that looked like it was trying very hard not to be noticed. it was closed. completely closed. suspiciously closed. she walked towards it, already smiling.

she reached for the handle. jude heard some movement, his confidence disappearing almost instantly.

silence.

she opened the closet door. he was standing completely still, hidden between the clothes, trying his best to blend in. for a second, neither of them said anything. then she raised an eyebrow.

a pair of broad shoulders were sticking out between the jackets, making absolutely no attempt to look like they belonged there. she stood there for a second, taking in the scene. the effort was there. the execution, unfortunately, was questionable.

“jude…”

“what?” his voice came from inside the closet, completely calm.

she glanced at the clothes surrounding him, then back at the very obvious person hiding between them.

“you’re not a jacket.” she blinked then burst out laughing, the sound warm and effortless.

his confidence faltered for the briefest moment. not because she had found him — he expected that eventually. but because she had insulted his entire strategy.

“i was going for the same idea.” he frowned, pushing the clothes away from his shoulders as if they were somehow responsible for the situation. he looked more offended by the clothes’ failure to hide him than the fact that she had found him.

“the idea was to blend in,” she gestured towards the clothes around him. “not become the largest item in the closet.”

she paused, looking him up and down. “you’re literally the reason the jackets look small.”

he shook his head, still trying to recover from the attack on his hiding skills.

“alright,” he stepped out of the closet, fixing his shirt and pretending he hadn’t just been exposed between her old jackets. “enough about my strategy.”

she opened her mouth.

“nope,” he said quickly, pointing at her before she could say anything else. a small grin appeared on his face.

“your turn to hide,” he walked past her towards the hallway, clearly enjoying the fact that the attention was finally off him. “let’s see how good you are.”

she followed him into the hallway, watching as he turned around and covered his eyes with one hand, leaning casually against the wall.

“you have one minute,” he announced, sounding far too confident for someone who had just been found hiding between jackets.

“don’t peek.” she smiled, already backing away.

he let out a quiet laugh. “relax. i’ll give you a chance.”

“a chance?”

“yeah,” he glanced back slightly — not enough to actually see her. “wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.”

the second he started counting, she slipped away quietly.

“one…”

she walked quickly down the hallway, keeping her steps light.

“two…”

she reached their bedroom and pushed the door open carefully, making sure it didn’t make a sound.

“three…”

she glanced around the room, considering her options. the closet was too obvious. behind the curtains would be too predictable. and after his first attempt, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake. her attention dropped to the space beneath the bed.

perfect.

she crouched down and slowly lowered herself onto the floor, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this felt. once she was underneath, she pulled herself farther back, settling into the shadows. she covered her mouth, holding back a laugh as she imagined jude walking around the house with all the confidence of someone who had definitely forgotten he had been defeated twice already.

“forty-four…”

his voice echoed faintly from the hallway. she stayed completely still. this time, she was winning.

fifteen minutes later, he was still searching. and somehow…

he still hadn’t found her. at this point, he wasn’t even looking for her anymore. he was looking for an explanation. he stood in the hallway, hands on his hips, completely confused.

“okay…” he looked around the empty rooms. “this is getting ridiculous.”

from beneath the bed, she had to bite down on her lip. she could hear the frustration in his footsteps as he walked around the room again.

“i know you’re somewhere,” he called out, his voice echoing through the bedroom.

a few seconds passed. nothing. jude waited. still nothing. his patience started wearing thin. he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the room again.

“baby…” his voice softened, but there was still a hint of defeat in it. “please come out now.”

“i’m starting to think you’re not even hiding anymore,” he called out, his voice carrying through the room. “i think you’ve moved out. i miss you.”

she nearly laughed. she was enjoying this. it was almost impressive how quickly he had gone from “i’ll find you in seconds” to acting like she had vanished from the entire house. fifteen minutes ago, he was confident. now he was negotiating with silence.

she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“jude…” her voice was quiet, but it was enough.

the second his name left her lips, the room went silent. a pause.

then—

“aha,” his voice changed instantly. the frustration disappeared, replaced by pure victory. “i knew it.”

she immediately regretted giving herself away.

“wait—”

before she could move, he dropped down beside the bed. “found you.”

she tried to pull herself farther back, but it was too late. his hand reached under the bed and caught her ankle gently.

“jude!”

“nope,” he laughed, carefully pulling her out as she tried to hold onto the edge of the bed. “you actually thought you were going to win?”

with one last pull, jude slid her completely out from under the bed. she dissolved into laughter, sprawled across the floor while he looked far too pleased with himself.

“fifteen minutes,” he said proudly. “but i got you.”

she shook her head. “you begged me to come out.”

his smile faltered for a second. “that was a strategy.”

for a second, she just stayed there, lying on her back, looking up at him. he stood above her with the most satisfied expression she had seen all night. she barely had time to take a step before his hands caught her around the waist, stopping her.

“hey, jude—”

he laughed as she protested, lifting her just enough to make her lose her balance before gently dropping her onto the bed. she landed with a soft bounce, breathless with laughter, looking up at him as though she couldn’t quite believe he’d actually followed through. before she could sit up, he leaned over her, trapping her beneath him with a grin that screamed victory.

“next round is on the bed,” he announced confidently. “you know i’m winning this, baby.”

she shook her head, completely entertained by the confidence he had somehow regained. then she dropped her head back against the pillow, trying to understand how he had turned a simple game into such a big event. he leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, gentle and quick, like he was celebrating his very important victory. when he pulled back, he still had that satisfied look on his face.

she pushed herself up onto her elbows, the smile still lingering on her face as she watched him. “we’re having a rematch tomorrow.”

jude let out a quiet laugh, clearly amused by how determined she was.

“shhh,” he lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her before she could start planning the rematch already forming in her head. “we have a long night ahead.”

he reached for her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as he enjoyed the moment. she took advantage of his distraction, tugging him closer and stealing a quick kiss that left him momentarily speechless. he didn’t let her pull away so easily, chasing after her lips for another kiss. when they finally broke apart, her lips traced a playful path to his cheek, leaving a soft peck there before she leaned closer to his ear.

“still counts as a win for me.” she whispered, the quiet triumph in her voice making him chucke softly.

“enjoy your victory, baby,” he whispered back, a quiet challenge in his voice. “i’ll have mine soon enough.”

she settled back against the bed, watching him with an amused expression as he carried himself like he had just won a championship—which he hadn’t.

but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. not the teasing. not the ridiculous competition. not the way they could spend hours doing absolutely nothing and still feel like time moved too quickly.

usually, even when he’s tired, he’ll come in talking immediately, about teammates or pulling you into a hug just because.

but tonight he shuts the front door harder than intended before tossing his bag onto the floor.

you glance up from the couch carefully.

“bad day?”

“mhm.”

that’s all you get. you watch him drag both hands over his face before disappearing into the kitchen silently.

you get up a few seconds later and find him standing in front of the fridge just staring into it blankly.

“you okay?”

“yeah.”

“what happened?” you walk closer slowly.

jobe sighs heavily before leaning back against the counter.

“nothing,” he mutters. “just shit training.”

you raise an eyebrow.

shit training from jobe usually means that he played badly, someone annoyed him or he’s overthinking everything

probably all three tonight.

“coach got onto me all session,” he says finally. “couldn’t do anything right.”

your expression softens immediately.

“aw.”

“don’t aw me.”

“too late.”

he rolls his eyes slightly, but the tension eases just a little.

you step between his legs where he’s leaning against the counter now, hands resting lightly on his waist.

“one bad session doesn’t make you terrible.”

“felt terrible.”

“yeah well,” you mumble, “you’re always dramatic after training.”

that gets the tiniest smile out of him, barely there but still.

you reach up and smooth your fingers through the curls near the back of his neck softly.

his eyes close almost instantly.

“tired?” you ask quietly.

he nods once and without even speaking, his arms slide around your waist and pull you fully against him.

very clingy, which means he definitely had a rough day.

you smile softly against his chest.

“you wanna talk about it more?”

he shakes his head again, cheek resting against the top of your head now.

“just wanna stay here.”

underneath all the frustration and moodiness, jobe always gets softer with you when he’s upset.

needier too, he just hides it badly.

you rub slow circles against his back while standing there together in the kitchen silence.

“felt like i couldn’t do anything right today.”

“you know that’s not true.”

“still annoying.”

“you’re allowed bad days, baby.”

his eyes stay on yours for a few seconds before his expression softens completely. you lift a hand and gently squish his cheek.

“my grumpy boy.”

“don’t call me that.”

“but you are grumpy.”

“because training was shit.”

“see? grumpy.”

he rolls his eyes again, but this time there’s no frustration behind it anymore.

suddenly he bends down slightly, burying his face into your neck while holding you tighter.

you smile instantly, fingers brushing through the hair at the back of his head.

“aw,” you whisper teasingly. “someone needs cuddles.”

“shut up.”

“that’s a yes.”

he mumbles something against your skin that sounds like maybe.

“come on then.”

you take his hand, leading him back toward the couch and less than ten minutes later, jobe is stretched out half on top of you under a blanket, face tucked against your chest while you play with his curls.

completely different from the irritated boy who walked through the door earlier.

his eyes drift shut slowly as your fingers scratch lightly against his scalp.

“better?” you whisper.

he hums sleepily.