Chapter Text
Colin’s newfound friendship with Trent is actually pretty nice, the more he gets used to it. It’s definitely a change, seeing how he’s spent most of his time at Richmond in perpetual fear of the man—always wary of any journalists that might be lurking around.
There’s always been a splitting panic in the back of his mind, the illogical thought that all it would take is one look at him and they would know. For the longest time he feared there would be some telltale sign of his queerness, that during an interview he would slip up somehow and out himself–not realizing it until it was too late.
When Trent stopped him at that bar in Amsterdam, when he told him that he knew, it felt like those fears were finally a reality. But the man wasn’t a journalist anymore, and any indication that Colin was gay came from his own lack of caution—not from any smaller, more subtle signs. That in itself was a relief.
So he has a gay friend now, which makes things infinitely easier.
This kind of relationship is easy, different from an ex, or a hookup, not someone he has to worry about impressing or possibly living in fear of should things go sour. He can just be himself and talk freely in front of Trent. He can ask questions and relate to things from someone who’s shared very similar experiences. They’re both relatively new to their own queerness, and that helps.
They go out for a pint every once in a while, finding other places to spend their time besides The Crown & Anchor where they would be easily recognized. Never a gay bar, not this close to home, but quiet hole-in-the-wall joints where they can spend at least an hour not looking over their shoulders.
Colin learns a lot about Trent’s life, about his ex-wife who he ended up divorcing upon realizing four years into their marriage that he was fully gay, not bisexual like he always led himself to believe—and that nothing was going to change that. He meets Trent’s daughter, Georgie, who is surprisingly well spoken for a five year old. She’s definitely a Crimm, although unlike her father, her energy is infectious and she seems to never slow down. Colin starts to teach her how to play football on their days off, gifting her one of his jerseys to wear to matches.
And yeah, he opens up a little to Trent as well. About his family that’s always been there–but never really been there . He tells him about Michael, about how he’s the first man that’s ever made him really feel something close to love. About how he wishes more than anything that they could go out together in public without having to worry about press breathing down their necks. He wants to introduce Michael to the team as more than a ‘wing-man,’ he wants his love to be recognized.
For all Colin knows, Trent has never found that with a man—at least not yet anyways. But when he shares his thoughts, his fears and dreams, he can see something familiar behind Trent’s eyes. A similar ache, one he’s more hesitant to put words to—despite clearly feeling something . The last thing he wants to do is pry, not looking to push the man into something he’s not ready to talk about.
But he feels bad, that Trent doesn’t feel as comfortable talking about things as he does. The situation feels largely unbalanced, that Colin sits down at the pub and tells him everything, and Trent just lends an ear–never sharing anything about himself in return.
On this particular night out, Colin has nothing new to report. Michael is away for work, he’s returned to weekly therapy sessions with Doctor Sharon, and Richmond has begun winning their games regularly. Life is good, he feels normal for the first time in a very long time. Now, he figures, might be the time to try and get some more details from Trent. At the very least he might be able to encourage him to share a little more.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Colin phrases this as a question, hoping Trent will answer honestly with the mindset of being able to help him rather than confide in him. “When’s the last time you went out with a bloke?”
Trent blinks, as if it takes him a moment to really remember, “Oh, it’s been quite awhile.”
Colin leans forward on his elbows, “Tell me about him, or about the date, whichever.” He’s doing his best not to push too much,but the curiosity is ultimately getting the better of him.
“It was almost two years ago, I met him on a dating app and we sat down at the Crown & Anchor for dinner. He was nice, had a steady job and worked in freelance photography on the side…” He trails off, seemingly remembering something.
“Things didn’t work out?” He can’t help but ask, wondering what the man is leaving out—whether purposefully or otherwise.
“On the way out of the pub, I saw Ted sitting by himself talking to Mae at the bar,” He grins at the thought, like he’s reliving a particularly happy memory. “This was right after the match where he rushed off the field suddenly, and I just couldn’t help myself.”
Colin nearly chokes on his beer, “You left your date to talk to Lasso?”
“I did,” Trent almost laughs to himself, but at least he seemed to open up a little. “Didn’t even get that good of a quote from him, kept pushing me the same story—which I can’t blame him for. He’s always been a good man, too good for this country and the press, too good for the whole lot.”
Colin is mystified. When he first started this line of questioning he was hoping to get more of an insight into Trent, but this particular tidbit has thrown him for a loop. Colin can’t remember ever seeing him smile this much when he wasn’t around his daughter, but here he is grinning like a madman—nearly laughing, when he talks about Ted Lasso.
Unexpected that’s for sure, but still something he can work with.
“What about your date?” He reminds Trent of the original conversation.
“Ah, yes, by the time I got back out there, he was gone. He messaged later and said he was looking for someone who wasn’t married to their work.” He shrugs, “At that point in my life I surely was.”
“And you haven’t tried getting back out there since?”
“Honestly, I just don’t see it in the cards for me,” Trent shrugs, fiddling with one of the buttons on his coat, “At this point in my life, going on dating apps seems so frivolous, and who would I ever trust enough to bring into Georgie’s life?”
“Someone you already know,” Colin tries to suggest as smoothly as possible, but the way Trent’s eyebrows nearly shoot off his forehead indicates that he wasn’t as smooth as he thought.
“Like who? There aren’t many older gay men knocking on my door, you know.”
“What I do know is that you’ve smiled more talking about Ted in the last few minutes than in the entire time I’ve known you.” He’s never been good at subtlety, there’s no point in starting now.
“Oh shut up,” Trent leans back in his chair, clearly trying to dismiss the idea entirely.
This does nothing to deter Colin, in fact it does the complete opposite. “I’m not hearing a denial anywhere in there.”
“Because there’s nothing to deny!” Trent insists, taking a large swig of his beer to hide whatever emotion he’s unable to restrain.
Who would’ve thought, Trent Crimm blushing about the American football coach. If Colin could’ve seen this coming years back when he was first on the scene as a footballer and skillfully dodging any questions or comments from the man, he would never have believed it.
But here they are now.
“Trent, I’m a wee bit offended that you don’t trust me enough to be honest,” Colin is ribbing him about this a little, but there’s also some truth to his words. “I’ve spilled my entire life story to you, including the extent of my dating history, and here you are denying what are clearly long held feelings.”
Trent puts his glass back down on the wooden table-top with a decisive clink. He takes a breath, his silence unnerving Colin for several seconds. “Walk with me, hm?”
The park is rather dark tonight, illuminated only by the streetlights a little further up the road. It’s a Wednesday and the downtown area is eerily empty, though Colin suspects there’s not much nightlife to be seen in this part of town on a normal day.
“I don’t think I’ve ever acknowledged how I feel about him, not even to myself,” Trent speaks for the first time since they left the pub. Something about the shroud of darkness gives the allusion of privacy, of safety.
Colin nods, he knows when it’s time to just sit back and listen. Trent has done a lot of that for him lately, so he decides to pay it forward.
“Somewhere along the way, things changed. I found myself searching for him in the crowd. Anticipating him calling on me in the press room. Getting excited for the matches—not just because Richmond is my club or because it was my job, but because I knew I’d see him. I held my breath hoping you all would win just so I could see him celebrate. And by the time Nate was sitting across from me in a cafe, telling me everything, I realized it was too late to remain objective.”
There’s something so innocent about this moment, about listening to him ramble about Ted—someone he clearly cares about deeply. The Lasso Effect has always been powerful, always working to sway just about everyone. But Trent is captivated in a completely different way, absolutely smitten. It takes a few moments for Colin to process that last sentence.
“Is that why you left your job at the Independent?”
Trent hums, “the night before the article was published I told Ted everything, revealed my source. I knew I was going to quit as soon as Nate contacted me, but I also knew I had to write that last article—had to do it justice so that the smear campaign that followed would mean less.”
Suddenly everything makes sense. At the time, Colin couldn’t understand how Ted forgave Trent so quickly. Of course he chalked it up to Ted just being Ted, but now that he knows the truth, the full truth… Well, things are different now.
“You quit your job for him because you knew your feelings were getting in the way of your integrity, and then you ended right back up at Richmond anyway.”
“The irony is certainly not lost on me.”
“I’m seeing it less as irony, and more as fate,” He knows how it sounds, incredibly corny and certainly something that the other man is bound to laugh at—but he does mean it. He’s glad he can’t see Trent’s face. “I mean what are the odds that this American gaffer changes your life, you quit your job for him, and then you end up closer to him than you were before?”
Trent sighs, “I gave up on the idea of fate a long time ago.”
Colin elbows him lightly, “Maybe you should start believing again.”
They stop right in front of a street light, bright enough that he can finally see the pained expression written clearly across Trent’s face. There’s an unspoken understanding between them, how it feels to teeter on the edge of your own happiness, knowing that at any moment you could take the wrong step and end up at the wrong end of a tabloid.
“I’m happy for you Colin, I am,” Trent says finally, his voice slightly shaky. “But it’s just not gonna happen for me.” He looks down at his phone, recognizing the time and reading through a message he’s missed from earlier. “I really have to be going now, I’ll see you on Monday.”
And with that, he flees. Leaving Colin with more questions than answers.