#jac writes

Your fingertips trace lines only you can see, forming your own personal constellations on the skin of Cole's cheek. The England sun has done him well; he's returned home from camp with tanned skin and a plethora of freckles that you so rarely are treated to seeing. 

So you take advantage of Cole's slumber, cataloging each one as your thumb sweeps under his eye. He stirs slightly when you apply a bit of pressure, seeking your touch. You smile to yourself and ghost your lips to his forehead, pulling back just in time to see his eyes slowly open. 

“Good morning handsome.” A beautiful blush rises to Cole's cheeks in the wake of your greeting. “Did you sleep well my love?” 

“Mmhhmm. Until someone woke me up.” Cole's arms wind around your middle. Despite being slightly uncomfortable, you allow him to pull you tightly against him. “What were you doing anyway?” 

You wiggle your arm free, reaching up to continue your imaginary artwork on his face. When Cole understands what you're doing, he turns his head and kisses your palm. His eyes slide shut once more, his head nestled softly on his downy pillow whilst he soaks up your affection.

“You're so pretty Cole. I love it when your freckles come back every year. They're like tiny little angel kisses.” You mean every word, too. Cole is pretty any day of the week, but when summer rolls around and his face is once more spotted with tiny angel kisses, he's somehow even more stunning. 

“I never liked them as a kid. Thought they made me stand out. I spent years using way too much sun cream to try and keep them from showing up.”

“Well, I'm obsessed with them. And I'm glad you forgot your sun cream at home, cause they're adorable.” To prove it, you press light kisses across his speckled face until he's laughing and trying to escape. 

“Oi- hey! Okay okay, they're cute or whatever. Let me breathe!” Cole's sleepy smile is confirmation of his appreciation. You love every part of him, freckled or not, and he doesn't doubt it for one second. 

Though you're content to stay right here forever, your rumbling stomach has other plans. “I guess it's time for breakfast. You want to help me make pancakes?” 

Cole nods immediately, “Oh, absolutely. But you're not changing out of that kit you've got on.” 

You glance down at the navy shirt Cole insisted you wear last night, the one with his name printed on the back. “I think that's an acceptable compromise. You're doing the cooking though, I'm just there to look pretty!”

You are, without a doubt, Cole's favorite person. Whether you're cross with him for leaving his dirty socks beside the wash or laughing your head off at something dumb he's said, he always loves being the object of your attentions.

His distinct inability to say no to you is what has brought him to a Sunday market at seven in the morning. Normally in the off-season, Cole prefers ‘Sleepy Sundays’ as he's called them; waking up sometime around noon, catching up on shows, and eating some sort of takeout that would be forbidden to him under normal circumstances. But when you woke him up at six (holding his favorite sundress of yours no less), he couldn't deny you. 

“Babe, look how cute!” You turn to him and hold up a pale pink crochet octopus. “Isn't he adorable- I could make this you know, if I had the time!” 

Cole smiles, already pulling out his wallet. “I'm sure you could love, but why don't we just buy it instead? That way you have more time to focus on me.”

“So selfish,” you say, though you both know you don't mean it in the slightest. “Thank you,” you add when Cole hands over his card without so much as checking the price. It could cost a hundred pounds and he wouldn't bat an eye. As long as it makes you happy, that's all Cole cares about. 

“Are you gonna name him?” Cole takes your free hand as you continue walking. The stalls of the market are crowded, though thanks to his baseball cap and loose clothing, Cole seems to go mostly unrecognized. That's why he loves this side of London; people generally leave him alone when he goes out, unless he conducts himself in a way that invites people to approach. Which, today, he does not- today is a family day, and that's that. 

You nod, slowing down near a booth selling handmade bars of soap. “I will, once a name comes to mind. Oooh lavender- you do need a new soap in your guest bath… but the sea salt one is nice too.” 

“Just get whichever ones you like.” Cole winds an arm around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. It'll take you a while to decide on scents, so he may as well get comfortable. 

Cole watches your face as you try to decide. Every now and again your lips purse ever so slightly. Your nose scrunches when you sniff a soap you don't care for, and you smile when you find one you enjoy. The little pile on your left- your ‘buy’ pile- contains three soaps by the end of it. Cole purchases them, leaves a generous tip for the craftswoman, and carries the little paper bag so your hands can remain free. 

“What next?” Cole asks, ready for your next detour. 

“I could use a snack,” you admit with a sheepish smile. “I know, I know you told me to eat before we left, but I wasn't hungry! And I saw this stall selling baked goods when we first came in…”

“Oh, you mean the wildly popular one that's probably sold out by now?” 

Your lower lip juts out in disappointment. “Yeah, that one… I guess I'll have to settle for whatever is left.”

“If there's anything at all.” 

Your frown deepens. “You're not helping fill my rumbly tummy right now babe.”

“Well, maybe it'll help that I had them set aside a few donuts and danishes when we first passed by, yeah?” Cole laughs when you gasp. “You're lucky I know you so well.”

Cole’s heart picks up its pace when you throw your arms around him and squeeze. “God I love you- you're the best babe! You know me so well- I’m the luckiest person in the world!”

Cole kisses the top of your head before steering you back toward the entrance. “I'm well aware. Nice to have a reminder now and again though.”

Though Cole is fairly certain that he is the luckiest person on earth when you do a little happy dance upon receiving your favorite pastry. He's even more certain of it when you reward his foresight with a berry-flavored kiss. 

“So am I the best boyfriend ever?”

“Ugh, this mint training kit is hideous on me. I look like a stick of chewing gum- look at you lot! It's perfect on everyone else- why does it wash me out so much?” You pull at the fabric, scrunching up your nose. The white kit is gorgeous on everyone, yourself included. If you were in charge of kit selection, that is the one you’d pick for every session. 

Erin's distinct laugh rings out from somewhere behind you, and the familiar scent of her floral shampoo wraps around you at the same time that her arms are flung around your shoulders. “It's lovely on you- you're as bonnie as ever! Dinnae say you aren't, cos I'll just keep saying that you are!”

“Forever my hype woman,” you half laugh, grinning and patting Erin's arm. At least you can enjoy the green on Erin. If nothing else, you’ll happily take that as a consolation prize. The freckles splashed across her sun kissed skin pop that much more with the mint kit, so you suppose it’s not all negatives. 

“It's what I'm here for isn't it? Making sure you lot don't get too down on yourselves- and you in particular.” Erin kisses your cheek and you dutifully ignore the tingling skin left in her wake when she removes her arms to head out to the pitch. You bite your lip to contain the stupid smile that threatens to break through your facade of nonchalance. 

Pull yourself together, you think. It’s platonic. Friends kiss each other’s cheeks all the time. Don’t read into it. 

Your crush on your Chelsea teammate has gotten slightly out of hand. You and Erin have been close since the moment you signed, but lately she's been touchier than usual- not that you mind one bit. But each light hearted hug or mindless brush of her fingers across your arm has your blood singing a melody that only one particular Scottish woman can quell. 

You’re distracted by Erin as you finish lacing up your boots. Luckily you can rely on muscle memory whilst you observe her, her face turned towards the sun as it peeks out from behind the clouds to illuminate her with its golden rays. Her chest expands with the deep breath she takes, her arms out for a moment as she soaks up the rare warmth. 

Most of your mates let you get away with pining after Erin from afar. They let you sigh and swoon in peace, allow you to fawn over Erin every time you go out as a team without batting an eye. There's a few though, like Zecira who now nudges you, that don't let your feelings go unnoticed. “So when are you going to woman up and ask her on a date?”

Your cheeks heat immediately and you sputter, “w-what? I'm not- Z! I'm not asking her out, Ez is my teammate! I couldn't do that!” It's also an unspoken rule that no one should mention said crush under any circumstances. Zecira, to no one's surprise, is not fond of rules in the slightest, and lives to break them. 

“What, and dating teammates is a terrible idea? I,for one, think it's brilliant.” Jess chimes in, raising a brow. “Huge motivator for sure. Nothing beats having your girlfriend out on the pitch with you after a hard fought win. You telling me you don't think that sounds wonderful?” You only roll your eyes and shove her playfully. 

“Of course that's not what I'm saying! It's just that for me personally, I'm not sure I can keep business and my personal life one hundred percent separate. If something happens at home, I don't want it affecting the team.” You shake your head and add, “besides, Ez isn't even interested! She's my friend, my closest friend I've made since I signed here, might I add. She doesn't see me that way!”

Zecira rolls her eyes as she finishes tightening her keeper gloves. “You really are blind.” Then your friend turns to Lauren and grins, “ten pounds says she pines after Ez all season and neither of them do anything about it.”

“I've got ten on Ez making the first move,” Millie chimes in, which causes you to shush them all in a panic, worried Erin might hear. 

“Are you all serious right now? We should be focused on training for our last few matches, on the title race! Not on whether or not Ez likes me back!” 

Mille shrugs, fixing her signature messy bun that you're never able to replicate no matter how often you try. “Gives us something to keep the pressure off. We can't just focus on the title or else it'll consume us. It's good for us to have a little distraction now and again.”

“Pick someone else’s love life to meddle in,” you grumble when Millie pats your shoulder, annoyed but unwilling to push any further with your captain. 

**********

Erin doesn't know what else she can do. How obvious does she need to be? She knows you're smart, you ought to have figured things out by now. The only thing stopping Erin from asking you out is the fact that she isn't one hundred percent positive you're interested in her romantically. There's been hints here and there, sure, the occasional flirtatious remark, but what girl doesn't flirt with her friends now and again? 

Until the end of the season, that's how long she'll give things. If by the last match, she isn't sure whether you're harboring feelings for her or not, she'll confess. What's the worst that happens, things are awkward for a few weeks? She can live with that. By the time summer break ends, you'd be back to business and the whole incident would be forgotten. So what does she have to lose? 

“Hello, love!” Erin chirps when you enter the changing room after training later that week. “What're you thinking for tonight, rom com or drama? I've got films picked out for either one, I'll leave the genre up to you.”

Over the past few months, you and Erin have come to the silent agreement that Tuesday nights are for getting together to watch b-list films and laugh at the terrible acting. You like pointing out the plot holes, and Erin enjoys listening to you laugh. She also cherishes the one on one time with you; normally you prefer going out in small groups, so Erin tries to make the most of any time she gets with you on your own.

Tonight, it is Erin’s turn to host. She spent hours last night preparing, shopping for your favorite indulgent snacks and setting up a cosy nest of blankets in her theater room. Said blanket nest was conveniently big enough for the two of you to share- which she definitely had not done on purpose. And if you wound up leaning on her a little as the night wore on, well… Erin supposed she could live with that. 

“I think a drama sounds good for tonight! I’m in the mood for something a little more serious. I sort of want to keep that headspace ahead of the match tomorrow, you know?” Erin nods, and you continue unlacing your boots as her attention remains locked on you and not on any of the other women as they trickle in. “I don’t want to watch something light hearted and then get all scrambled. I know that probably doesn’t make much sense to you, but in my head it does.”

Your laugh has Erin’s stomach doing somersaults. A smile spreads across her own face as a result. “I cannae say I understand how your brain works, but I can appreciate it. We can do a drama! Keep that pretty head of yours from getting mixed up too badly.”

To Erin’s dismay, you must not register the compliment because you simply smile sweetly in response. How many more hints can she lay at your feet before her efforts are akin to begging? Just to be clear, she would consider begging if she had to. Only as a last resort, but it wasn't out of the question. 

Erin grabs her glasses from their holder on the top shelf of her cubby and adjusts the round gold frames to sit correctly on her nose. She zips up her bag after spraying an extra spritz of perfume on herself before she links her arm through yours. “Ready then? I’ll drive, promise I won’t give ya a heart attack like I nearly did last time.”

There's your laugh again, boggling Erin's senses. “I trust you. Just make sure we get home in one piece, the team needs us tomorrow!”

The drive to Erin’s quaint home in the suburbs doesn’t take more than twenty minutes. You are the dj, using Erin’s phone to queue up songs that you occasionally hum along to as the car trundles through the tight streets and sharp corners. Erin delights at the familiarity you’ve developed with her house, where you happily leave your shoes by the door and your belongings in a heap on her forest green sofa. 

Erin's steps slow on the way to the kitchen so she can observe you. Not for the first time, Erin marvels at how well suited you are here. She can almost imagine coming home from international duty and finding you sat on that very sofa, a wide grin dimpling your cheeks moments before you launch yourself at her. Heading to bed after a rough match would seem a bit less daunting if you were beside her.

You gasp when you spot the blankets in the adjoining room, “oohh Ez, you went all out tonight huh?”

“Yep, only the best for you.” Now snapped firmly into reality, Erin joins you and deposits the snacks in her arms on the floor before patting the space next to her. “Get over here so we can get this party started!”

Erin swears your cheeks flare as you settle in, but she elects to leave it be without pointing it out. Moments like this are precious, where she can pretend you are the only other person in the world and simply bask in your presence.

She sneaks glances at you as the movie begins, some cheesy tune playing as the scene is set. Light dances across your cheeks, highlighting the places Erin yearns to kiss. The film's protagonist is some bland, middle aged woman, desperate to find purpose after being widowed due to a tragic accident. That’s what the summary online said at least; truth be told, Erin is paying more attention to you than the events unfolding on screen. 

In some ways, Erin can relate to the woman. She too is searching for a way to ground herself, though such a thing is easier said than done. But around you, her feet remain firmly on the ground; you don't allow her ego to over inflate, nor do you let her get caught up in the wildfire that the media occasionally stokes. You balance her, the soft, level-headed yin to her loud, boisterous yang. 

Erin wishes you would give her some sort of sign. Something that proves once and for all that she isn't the only one that senses this connection growing between the two of you. She is quickly being pulled in by your gravity and is powerless to stop herself from entering a crash course, destined to either go up in flames or burn white hot until the end of time. 

But as the night wears on, all you offer is the occasional comment about the leading actresses inability to cry convincingly or the terrible sets. At one point your fingers graze the back of her hand when you both reach for a bag of crisps, but you make no indication that you feel anything. Erin is thrown entirely off balance by the slight contact and completely misses the explanation of the film’s main plot twist. 

When the end credits roll, Erin sighs and rests her head on your shoulder for a heartbeat. She could comfortably sleep just like this, she realizes. You're a touch warmer than she is, like her own personal space heater. But then you move to stretch and the moment is broken. Erin smiles, mirroring your movements and quickly gathering the rubbish. 

“I'll stay the night, I don't feel like paying for an Uber. And I'm not making you drive when it's this late either!” You wag a finger at Erin, correctly predicting the offer that already sat poised on her tongue. 

So Erin holds up her hands in defeat, because really she isn't going to object to you spending the night anyway. “Alright, guest room is yours per usual. You know where everything is.” 

“I do,” you say matter-of-factly with a smile that ties Erin's heart in little knots. “I'll see you in the morning, baby scotland!”

By the time you curl up in her guest bedroom, Erin is nearly convinced that she’s imagined everything. Knowing you're so close to her physically but so far in every other aspect, she's lucky she gets any sleep at all.

**********

When Erin scores late into the second half of the final match of the season, you nearly lose your mind. You are the first to reach her, congratulating your friend by jumping on her back and nearly toppling her over. “Bloody beautiful goal Ez!”

Erin laughs, her hand gripping your arm to keep you from falling until you’re on your feet again. She wants to tell you that she scored thanks to you, that your pace and pass accuracy is ultimately what helped her score.  Before she can say anything, the entire team surrounds her, though Erin resolutely keeps her hold on you. When the girls all begin to trickle back into their positions, Erin gives your arm a squeeze, a silent gesture of appreciation, before finally letting go. 

You tell yourself that the adoration in her eyes is from the adrenaline. It has nothing to do with you in particular; if anyone else had beaten you to her, Erin’s eyes would have lit up just the same. Something in your chest blooms when she blows you a kiss moments before the restart. You shake your head to clear it and focus on the match. 

The minutes pass in a blur with added time creeping up on you before you realize you've played a full ninety. Your limbs still feel light and fresh, as if you could play another half hour before you're even winded. And perhaps you have Erin and her mind-boggling air kiss to thank for that- whatever the reason, you’re just happy to see Chelsea come out on top in the end. 

Despite the odds, the team had done it. The league was yours- one last coveted trophy for Emma Hayes to add to her cabinet, and another piece of silverware for your own. 

Erin seeks you out when the final whistle blows. Neither of you care about your sweaty-slicked skin as you wrap each other up in a fierce hug, proud of your team for seeing the season through. You don’t think twice about kissing her cheek- the action is as natural as the hug is. Erin's laugh is as joyful and infectious as a child's, wrapping around you like your favorite blanket on a winter night. 

“Perfect end to the season, isn't it Ez?” Your grin mirrors hers, two peas in a Chelsea blue pod. 

“Amazing end. Though I gotta say, I didn't doubt us for a second. I knew we'd pull through, we always do!” 

You laugh, recalling the countless times Erin had confided in you about her fears for the season. Deciding some things are better left unsaid, you reply, “I'm gonna have to buy a bigger flat at this rate. If we keep winning like this, I'm gonna run out of room for all my medals!”

In an odd, out of character moment, Rrin hesitates before she says, “You could always live with m-”

Someone bumps into you, sending you and Erin both toppling to the pitch. You land in a heap of tangled limbs, both of you laughing until your sides burn. Your smile widens when Erin’s ocean blue eyes twinkle. Her eyes have the same sort of effect on you as bright, freshly bloomed flowers have on bumble bees; you find yourself drawn in, easily lost in the powdery shades of blue. 

It’s only when Zecira’s boot nudges your shin that the bubble encompassing the two of you bursts. You both turn to look up at the Swede, who crosses her arms over her broad chest and grins, “so you two gonna kiss now or what?”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Lauren chants from a few yards away, laughing when Erin’s eyes turn icy and pin her with a glare. “Just do it! Quit dancing around each other already, everyone is tired of it!” 

“Shut up Laur-” Erin’s soft hand on your jaw cuts you off. “Wha-” 

Her lips meet yours before you can finish questioning her. Though the kiss lasts no more than a heartbeat or two, it is enough to have your chest bursting with warmth. Your mind doesn't fully process what’s happened until Erin smiles sheepishly when she pulls away, “couldn’t help myself. Plus, had to make them shut up somehow, didn’t I?” 

The fact that the first kiss you’ve been dreaming about for months happened so publicly doesn’t bother you half as much as you expect. You tip your head back and laugh, rolling until you’re facing the sky and the flood lights become stars. Erin sits up enough to lean over you, that stupidly charming grin still affixed to her face. 

“I hope that’s a good laugh. Like, a ‘I enjoyed that so much, I cannae believe I waited so long’ sort of laugh, and not a ‘I regret letting that happen’ sort of thing, because if it’s the second one-”

“The first one,” you gasp out between breaths, shaking your head at yourself. “I should’ve listened to Z when she told me ages ago. I guess once in a blue moon even she has to be right about something!”

Propping herself on an elbow, Erin stretches out next to you. Neither of you care about the cameras until the trophy makes its way over, and then you spend a few minutes posing together until the photographer is happy with the images. Then you’re sucked right into your little bubble again, where you remain until your teammates pull you both to your feet for the team photos. 

Keys jingle outside the door to your flat, and though you're not expecting it, you're not alarmed either. Your boyfriend uses his key on a frequent enough basis that you've grown used to the occasional unannounced intrusion, and after today's match you aren't at all surprised he's decided to pop by. 

“In the kitchen love,” you call when the door squeaks open. Cole has pointed out the need for grease more than once, though you continue to insist you like the noisy hinges because they're your way of ensuring he can't sneak up on you. So far you've won that battle, and the door remains noisy. 

Cole drops his kit bag on the sofa and immediately comes over to wrap his arms around your waist. The height difference means he has to stoop down a touch to rest his chin on your shoulder but he does so without a second thought. His lips are slightly rough on your cheek, evidence of how thoroughly he exerted himself on the pitch today. “Hi, babe. Hope you don't mind me coming by.”

“Not like I have much choice now, huh?” You reach your free hand up to pat his cheek. Your focus remains on the fried rice sizzling in the pan in front of you. “Nah, I don't mind. Just a little surprised is all, I thought you'd want to head home and sleep.”

“Just wanted to spend a couple hours with my girl,” Cole murmurs into your hair. Despite how long you've been together, butterflies still fill your stomach with his simple statements of affection. You aren't used to them yet, and you hope they never become so mundane that you do not appreciate them. 

“Are you gonna let me check out that leg of yours?” You can't help yourself from worrying. The tackle had come out of nowhere in the second half and had left Cole limping slightly for minutes afterwards. 

Cole sighs and pulls away. You stare him down, arms crossed over your chest in your best impression of a stern adult. Of which you normally act neither stern, nor an adult, and Cole knows it. “I'm fine.”

“Babe, don't brush it off.”

“I'm not brushing anything off.” Cole's insistence on being fine is immediately discredited by his wince when you lightly tap his shin with your socked foot. “Okay… okay, maybe it's bothering me. But only a little,” he adds hastily, as if that somehow will settle you.

You point to the armchair in the corner of your bedroom, “go. Sit. This is why I wanted you to come over, cause I knew you wouldn't admit you were hurting unless I saw you in person.”

Cole's heavy sigh follows you down the hall as you go to retrieve some ice. From the moment Cole took contact late in today's match, you knew he was hiding his pain. Your boyfriend has a bad habit of trying to martyr himself sometimes. Luckily he has you to ensure that he looks after himself. 

A bag of frozen peas will have to do, though you know Cole won't mind anyway. You wrap the bag in a washcloth and bring both back to the bedroom where Cole waits with his leg dutifully propped up on your bed. 

“Guess there's some advantages to having a small flat,” you muse, kneeling next to Cole to inspect his leg. 

“What's the advantage exactly?” Cole hisses when you roll up his joggers. Clearly even the slight brush of cloth over his black and blue shin is uncomfortable. 

“Well for starters, there's less to clean.” You gesture to Cole's stretched out body with your free hand, the other holding the wrapped peas to his bruise. “But more specifically, having a tiny bedroom means you can receive the top notch medical care that you so desperately need.”

Your voice lifts along with the corner of your mouth, the playfulness not lost on him. “I am in incredible pain. Horrible injury that is, I'm not sure I'll ever recover.” Cole grins when you bite your lip to suppress a laugh. “Gonna need me a nurse to look after me for a few weeks, maybe even a few months. You reckon you might be up for the job?”

You adjust your white top and sit up a bit straighter to bat your lashes at Cole. Despite being the oldest trick in the book, Cole seems to be just as distracted now as he was the first time you used it on him. “I think I could help you out. Bruises are quite nasty, they require constant care to ensure they don't spiral into something worse.”

“Oh, is that so? I'm quite lucky I've got you as my nurse then.” Cole finally bursts into laughter when you pretend to straighten your non-existent nurses cap. His laugh is infectious and before you know it you're both doubled over in fits of giggles, so much so that the peas land on the floor. That only makes the pair of you laugh harder, and it only stifles off when Cole yipes when you put the cold peas on his leg once more. 

“I'm sorry love- I do promise I'll look after you though. And first thing is first, you need to recover so I'll get a bath drawn with those salts of mine that you love-”

“Oh! The lavender ones? I love those-” You shush your boyfriend by pressing a single finger to his lips. This quiets him instantly, his eyes softening in an apology. 

“To answer your question yes, I'll use the lavender ones. But I'll get that going for you and you can have a soak whilst I get the bed all ready for you yeah? And when you're all washed up and your muscles aren't quite as sore, I can be your little jetpack and cuddle you all night.”

Cole hums, only speaking when you pull your hand away from his mouth, “I do love being little spoon.”

“Happy birthdayyyy…” 

On a normal day, Cole would hate being woken up before his alarm goes off. But this morning he smiles, eyes still closed as he turns over and stretches his arms above his head. His face scrunches up in that adorable way you love, and his yawn settles in a smile as he finally cracks open his pretty speckled brown eyes. 

“Well well, happy birthday to me,” he murmurs in a scratchy morning voice. “What a sight to be greeted with so early. You've stolen another one of my shirts I see.” 

You grin, tugging at the Chelsea blue fabric so it covers more of your thighs. “Well I couldn't ruin those nice silk pajamas you bought me whilst I was making breakfast.”

“Oh, but getting stuff on the Chelsea badge is acceptable?” Cole’s eyes twinkle with mischief, so you know he isn't mad in the slightest. 

“Look, not a speck on it. I was careful! I wouldn't dream of disrespecting the badge.” 

Cole rolls over, locking an arm around your hips and tugging until you're forced to lay down with him. You glance down at the foot of the bed, where his breakfast balances precariously on the edge. “Careful of the tray-” 

“I see the tray baby, let me have my birthday morning kiss.” 

Despite being well aware of Cole's penchant for early morning affection, your cheeks still heat up as he purses his lips and waits. You happily peck them, Cole humming in response before he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for breakfast. Smells yummy.”

“I made your favorites, and we're not gonna tell the gaffer.” You feel Cole's smile against the skin of your bare neck. “Cinnamon rolls, fresh out of the oven, and a bowl of strawberries on the side. Seems like a reasonable amount of sugar to start your twenty second year, don't you think?”

“I think as long as I get to spend some time with you before I have to head in for recovery sounds like a perfect start to year twenty two.”

Your laugh only has Cole's arms tightening around you. You brush your fingers through his recently cut hair, then press a kiss to the top of his head. Truthfully, you could stay curled up like this for hours until you forget the world, the two of you tucked away in your own reality with no responsibilities. So you allow Cole to rest, let his thumb trace circles on the small of your back while your breathing mimics his. 

If Cole had a choice, he wouldn't leave this bed all day. If he didn't have to head into Cobham in an hour, you'd pop on a film and let him sit cross-legged whilst he ate breakfast, and then cuddle up with him in a nest of pillows and blankets. But alas, reality must prevail. 

“Eat your breakfast before it goes cold and soggy. No one likes soggy buns.” Cole's light laugh is your warning a second before he pinches your bum, which earns him a light slap on the wrist. He's too adorable to be upset with though, and you wind up sitting behind him, one leg on either side of his and your cheek resting on his shoulder blade while he eats. 

“This is wonderful my love,” Cole mumbles around a mouthful of pastry. “You make these?” 

“I'd love to take the credit, but they're from the bakery up the street. I had them make a special order just for you, that's why they're blue.” It hadn't taken much convincing for the manager of Cole's favorite pastry shop to agree to making a special, small batch of the rolls. Your baking skills definitely don't compare to those of a French chef, so you let a professional do the heavy lifting this time around. 

“Well remind me to thank Henry next time we go in. These are amazing- and the blue is a nice touch. Almost makes me forget that I gotta do actual work today.”

“I still think you should be excused on your birthday. It should be an automatic pass- like a get out of recovery free card. I mean, who wants to be busy on their day!”

Cole hums, finishing off his cinnamon roll and putting the tray aside. He leans back into you slightly, his slightly sticky hands settling on your thighs. “I think so too. I don't wanna go in, I wanna stay right here. Cuddled up with my girl, random films on all day, and stealing kisses between naps.”

“Oh, now doesn't that sound like heaven. Might have to steal that idea for my next birthday. Call off work and come cuddle my man.” 

Cole shifts, bracing one hand beside your leg so he can twist and see your face. You let him study you, smiling softly when he kisses your brow. “You can steal any idea of mine that you want,” he murmurs, “I won't be mad. But what I will be mad about is Poch insisting on early morning recovery when all I want to do is stay here with you.”

“I'll strike a bargain with you,” you start, which piques Cole's interest. “You get ready, pick out an outfit for me to wear, and I'll drop you off. That way you get a little more time with me.” 

“You're so smart,” Cole praises, one hand on your jaw to angle your face for a kiss. “I love you and that big brain of yours.” 

You flip your hair over your shoulder and bat your lashes at him. “I'm a genius, what can I say? Only someone as talented as me would've come up with that idea. Now go get ready big boy, you gotta look pretty for your birthday!”

Once Cole has brushed his teeth and showered, he comes back to steal another longer kiss. He chatters your ear off the entire time he gets dressed, opting for a simple black Chelsea track suit- to which you have no objections, seeing as it's one of your favorite outfits on him. 

“Now, what do I have you wear…” Cole taps his chin, pondering his side of the closet. He glances back at you, currently lounged out on the bed and perfectly content to enjoy watching him whilst he decides. Finally he pulls out one of his training tops and grabs a pair of comfy shorts from your drawer and hands them to you, “you want to wear this, love? I think it'll be cute.”

You smile and accept the clothes from him, then peck his lips. “You think anything is cute on me, so that's beside the point.” You pull the shirt you're currently wearing over your head and toss it aside, smiling to yourself when the scent of Cole's aftershave envelops you when you put on the training top. “You just want to see your number on my chest.” 

Cole's cheeks flush slightly and your stomach flips. Everything he does has your stomach erupting with butterflies, but seeing him blush because of something you said takes the cake. “Maybe I do. Is that a crime? To know that while I'm stuck in recovery, you're out in a coffee shop somewhere wearing my number?”

Cole's hands burn on your hips when you drape your arms over his shoulders. “Of course it isn't. But I hope you know, the whole time I'm at that coffee shop…” you let your eyes dip to Cole's mouth. He catches onto where you're going with this, his lips parting in surprise. “All I'm gonna be thinking about is you unwrapping me when we get home.” 

“Oh, that's not bloody fair.” Cole's pained whine has you giggling. “Love, that's not fair at all! You can't expect me to focus on recovery after that! I can skip today-” 

You twirl out of his grasp and snatch his keys from the nightstand. You have no intention of letting him skip, but you did want to plant the seed and have him thinking about you every second you're apart. And judging by the slight bulge forming in his pants… you've done just that.