The Weekend Arrangement

How Soon is Now, How Long is Forever

"God, it's a scorcher out there. I need a shower."

Martin comes through the door, ruddy faced and in an incredibly short pair of shorts. Jon maybe ogles him from the couch over his book. It was a hot day- hot enough that even the normally chilly Jon is in just his loose pair of jogging shorts. For as cold and rainy as the spring had been, summer had arrived hot and oppressive and July has been the worst by far- a sticky, sweltering month.

"Good practice then?"

"It was! A few of them are really excellent players already, and the rest of us are getting better." Martin answers the leer with a suggestive eyebrow waggle of his own. "If we can ever get put together enough to hold an actual match you can come watch me be terrifically masculine out on a field."

In an effort to pull Martin out of his lingering melancholy after his mother's passing; Tim had invited Martin to help him attempt to put together a small, local rugby league. They met on Saturdays and were loosely organised at best . The motley cohort of 'players' seemed to be more interested in a chance to run about outdoors and maybe drink a pint rather than participate in any serious undertaking of sport, but it had quickly become a closely knit group of friends and an eagerly anticipated outing for Martin.

The team has been good for Martin; it's given him a chance to meet new people, and he's finding that people genuinely liked him- enjoyed his company and invited him to things, and he often came home grinning excitedly about how he and Jon have been encouraged to join in on dinners and parties and game nights. The whole experience has made Martin more confident- less self deprecating; assured enough to even turn down invitations saying- Those guys are great, but drinks at the pub every weekend? Seems excessive to me. I'd much rather come home to you all things considered- home with you is my favourite place.

Martin was always muscular and handsome- but with this newly emerged athletic prowess he stands up straighter and wears clothing that actually fits him rather than just hiding in shapeless jumpers and over-sized shirts. Jon gets a smug little thrill when he notices other people seeing the same things he always saw in Martin, and adores the envious glances cast at him when Martin wraps an arm around him. It was exhilarating for Jon to see him shake off so much of what had weighed him down in the past- and if that new found confidence has spilled into their bedroom- well; who was he to complain?

Martin puts his gear away in the small hall closet, and starts up the stairs, peeling his soaked jersey off as he goes. Jon really has no choice but to follow; Martin always comes home from these practices exuberant, sweaty and indeed terrifically masculine. It usually doesn't take much at all to get him out of uniform.

"So, still working on...formations?" Jon has attempted to learn things about rugby, but is still mostly lost on the mechanics of play. He hasn't really gotten much further than being able to make dirty jokes about hookers.

"Nah, today was tackling drills. It'd be nice if some of them could learn that drills doesn't have to mean full force into the dirt at every opportunity- I'm filthy."

They had made it to the bedroom where Martin was pulling off his shorts. Jon takes the opportunity to run a finger down Martin's back, and he thinks again how incredibly glad he was that Tim invited Martin to join this nascent league.

"Yes... filthy" Jon's voice drops a little, and even in the heat he can feel Martin shiver under his trailing fingertip.

"So you've been working on good tackling form? You know I don't know much about rugby- tell me, what are the proper ways to tackle?" Along with dropping his voice, Jon adds a bit of the managerial tone that always works. "I might require a demonstration as it were."