Early Bird

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"Oh my god, oh my god, Micky! Look!" Flynn bounced on his toes excitedly, grabbing at Micky's arm who was trying to pull down the last of his yellow visi-vest displaying his Fitness First gym logo and the Williams Syndrome Foundation.

"What?" Micky asked with a chuckle.

"That's him! That's him! Over there!" Flynn continued his jumping and pointed over across a few of the other contenders all handing over possessions and saying good lucks to family members.

Dan squinted, holding up a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the low sun rays, to look over where Flynn was pointing. He dimpled on seeing what the fuss was all about.

"Do you want me to get you an autograph?" Dan asked, turning back to Flynn. Micky glanced over, noticing his brother's fixation, then rolled his eyes at Dan.

"Yes!" Flynn replied, grabbing Dan's arm to pull him away.

"Er, Flynn, how about we say good luck to Micky first?" Dan chuckled.

"Good luck, Micky," Flynn rushed out quickly, threw his arms around his brother, then grabbed Dan's hand once more to tug him.

"Who's more excited?" Micky asked, nodding his head over to the couple who had started to cause a commotion with their lingering kiss.

Dan's arm was still being pullled, but he managed to step forward and plant a kiss to Micky's lips before being yanked any further.

"I only have eyes for you," Dan said with a dimpled grin.

"I know you have a thing for that guy, too," Micky said, pointing a warning finger. "Whilst I'm out there running this thing, I better not find out you and Mr Rock Star have gotten all cosy. Wouldn't want to have to use my right hook at a children's charity event."

Dan snorted. "For one thing, the man is married. To a footballer, no less. And two, my bets on you against his husband, any day."

"Yeah?" Micky replied, bringing his outstretched arm across his body to stretch the muscles. "If he gets ahead, I'll tap his leg with my foot and, like all footballers, he'll dive to the ground demanding some sort of red card, leaving the way for me to win the race."

"Fight dirty, eh?" Dan joked.

"Only way to fight," Micky winked.

"See you at mile 25, then," Dan said as Flynn yanked him harder. Micky nodded, continuing his stretching as Flynn pulled Dan over to the other couple, who had finally parted from their public display of affection.

Micky shook his head with a laugh as he watched Flynn immediately run up and give the dark haired, rock star fella a massive hug. The man looked shocked at first, but who can resist a Flynn hug? So he returned it with a laugh, just as a piercing whistle blew indicating the runners should line up for the start. Micky trundled forward, twisting his hips and rotating his shoulders to warm up ready.

"G'day," a man greeted beside him. Micky glanced up and nodded a returning smile. "May the best man win, right?" The man held out a hand to Micky.

"There's more than just me here," Micky replied, shaking the man's hand.

The man leaned in closer to whisper in Micky's ear. "Yeah, but between me and you, I think you're my biggest threat."

Micky snorted, turning to look around at the various contestants. Most of them looked like weekend runners. Few teams of Tough Mudder regulars. No real exercise hounds like himself and evidently the guy next to him by the appearance of his defined upper body muscles. But considering the man was Australian, Micky instantly put him down to being a surfer. Surfers were strong, had agility, endurance. But when it came to using your arms alone to get you across the monkey bars, Micky knew he'd have the upper hand then. He turned back to the Aussie, nodded and smiled. On turning the other way, a blond man jogged up behind them and tapped Micky on the shoulder.

"Hey," the man said. "Your brother told me to tell you that he's now rooting for me."

Micky glanced over his shoulder. Flynn waved, holding his other hand firmly in the rock star's, and Dan shrugged back at him with an apologetic smile. Micky turned to the blond.

"Fickle, my brother," Micky replied.

"Much like my husband," Jay replied with an eye roll. "I think he's now supporting you, anyway."

Micky laughed, just as the whistle blew out again.

"Good luck, gents!" the Aussie called out as he bundled through the running bodies to start the race.

The race that seemed it was going to be a Team Jay, Team Micky or Team Bradley affair.

***

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