A/N: It feels so great to be working on another multi-chapter again, especially since this is an idea I've essentially been developing for nearly two years (mainly in note-taking and daydreaming, tbh, pfft!). A lot of this is inspired by the movie 'Any Given Sunday', and that movie was a great resource for what kind of emotional storylines I could explore, as well as giving me a starting point for research. Still, the movie is obviously dramatised, and so a lot more background reading was required. I guess that's my little disclaimer. Another thing I love about 'Any Given Sunday' is the alternative names for all the football teams, and I decided to try it out in this fic so the AU is immersive as possible. Plus, coming up with team names was so much fun! Enough of my rambling, I'd love to hear what you guys think in the reviews! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Driving down that familiar stretch of freeway to his parents' house, Kyle was happy to see what was undoubtedly the most chaotic and stressful summer of his life dim into a promising Fall evening. The blue Denver sky was fading and the setting sun was flooding his car. He pulled the visor over his windscreen, just as the soft music coming from his radio was instead replaced by ringing. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Jimmy. It felt like he had been talking to the press all summer; deflecting their attention away from his father when the story originally broke; facing the heady rush of press coverage head on when burying their heads in the sand was no longer an option - and practiced statements from their PR agent was; and, finally, courting them when good news was finally on the horizon and Kyle had been pushed from the wings and into the spotlight. Still, witty, amiable, and honest, Jimmy was the one journalist whose company Kyle always felt at ease in. And while Jimmy was no stranger to criticising the performance of the Denver Mustangs, he had also been quick to dispense valuable advice when the pressure of Kyle's situation became almost as unbearable as the summer heat.

"Hey, Jimmy."

"Hey, mister eh-eh- ehh-AFA Digest! Nice cover!"

Kyle laughed, heat crawling up his throat even though he was the only one in the car. He supposed he would have to shake this feeling of embarrassment at being in the limelight now that he was just another owner up for scrutiny. It wouldn't be all glossy magazine covers, and full-page spreads praising him for representing a new, fresh start for his team. He needed to enjoy it while he still could.

"Thanks," he replied. "It's great how they managed to entirely airbrush the anxiety off my face."

They wanted to capture the new youthful energy and vibrancy Kyle was going to bring to the team in the cover. So they shot him wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, a Mustangs jersey, with his hands in his pockets and a football tucked under his arm, looking way more relaxed than he actually felt.

"The interview was good, right?" Kyle asked. "In your professional opinion?"

"Wuh-wuh-well I, I, was a little uh-uhf-uhf-offended that we didn't get the full scoop."

Kyle smiled, and rolled his eyes.

"But it was f-f-f-fantastic. How does it feel to be the youngest owner in the uh-uh-uhhh- association?"

This must have been the sixth time Kyle had been asked that question since the announcement was made. Journalists and photographers had barked it at him when he left the Mustangs HQ, his fellow owners had asked him with wide, patronising smiles during conference calls, and he had in fact been asked it during his interview in AFA Digest. His responses had differed, but all were buoyed with brisk optimism and poise. Alone in his car, with his friend on the line, Kyle's shoulders sagged and he sighed.

"To be honest, it hasn't sunk in yet. I haven't celebrated at all. I mean, the circumstances aren't wonderful..."

"I get that," Jimmy assured. "But with the season around the corner this is your chance to tuh-tuh- tuuuh- turn it all around."

"I guess. Got any advice for me?"

"Hmm... d-d-don't be afraid to accept there are things you can't control," Jimmy replied. "I know we sports jur-jur-journalists give you guys a hard time when you screw up but somebody has to hold you guys uh-uhc-uhhh- accountable. We also know that football is a highly charged game of p-p-passion, and egos. You can't corral that. St-st-still, you can't be sloppy, you need to be vih-vih-vihhh-vigilant with your team. The senior staff and the players. Eh-eh-everybody involved. You need to be ff-fff-firm."

"Right." Kyle nodded. "Got it."

"M-m-m-most importantly, be honest and transparent."

"After the shitstorm this summer I can't afford to be anything but." He sighed. "I had to make that clear in my interview. I'm going to be honest. I'm not going to be like my dad and screw everything up."

After shadowing him all these years, Kyle had learned a lot from his father. He had admired him without question, thought he knew everything about him. That's why it stung so much when he found out there was so much he didn't know, when that wretched, festering underside to his personality was exposed. Being pulled in all directions by every bitter, incredulous emotion had left him reeling. At least it reminded him of what he needed to be now he was owner, and it was something his dad had never done.

"Your dad was a good owner," Jimmy replied. "That's what made that whole mess so ss-ss-saah-sad. But you're not going to be like him. You know all this stuff. You kn-kn-know the game inside and out. You've b-b-b-basically been co-owner since college. This is what you were born to do, Kyle."

It was then that Jimmy crystallised everything Kyle was terrified of. What if he screwed up that one thing he was born to do? What would be left of the team then? Their legacy? What would be left of him? Kyle gulped, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel.

"Thanks, Jimmy."

"Nn-nn-no problem. Tuh-tuh-talk to you later!"

Soon the soft, inoffensive songs coming from his radio were filling the car again, but when Kyle looked out the window that waning summer sky didn't comfort him as much. Why did he think this was the end, when it was only the beginning?

That heavy dread sitting on Kyle's heart was lifted when he reached his parents' house. Even if it had been the setting for some pretty uncomfortable conversations and heated arguments these past few months, Kyle's blissful, childhood memories were a remarkable salve on those fresh wounds. Situated in the suburbs of Denver, the grand, cream-coloured house, with its elegant water features, and tall, alabaster columns surrounding the front door, would always be a welcome retreat when Kyle needed to get away from the city, the stadium. As if he could ever separate himself entirely from the Mustangs. They would always have a piece of him.

The evening breeze rustling through the trees and chirping birds greeted Kyle as he left his car and walked to the front door. The gate was in the distance, hidden by the abundant, but always well-maintained foliage that wouldn't be so green for much longer, turning copper already.

Kyle walked straight in, the large front door shutting with a loud thud.

"Hello?" he said, as he took off his jacket and placed it on the hat stand.

"Is that my handsome, successful son?" his mom's voice travelled through the kitchen and bounced off the walls.

She never had trouble making herself heard. Kyle remembered the house ringing with her voice as a child, calling him downstairs for breakfast. He grinned.

"Nah, Ike's still in California."

He soon heard the clack of her heels against the polished tiles, and saw her bustling towards him with a wide smile on her face, and a rolled up AFA Digest in hand.

"So modest, bubbe, you know I meant you!" she gushed, squeezing him tightly before cupping his cheeks and placing loud, lipstick kisses all over his face. Kyle was sure she felt his temperature rising under her perfectly manicured fingers.

"Oh, bubbe, I'm just so proud of you!" she said when she pulled away, hands at her chest. Her face was pinked and her eyes were wet. "You've handled this summer so well and your father and I... we don't know what we would have done without you these past few months."

What would his mom have thought if she knew that it was her very dependence on Kyle that had kept him together in the first place? Without her needing a shoulder to cry on, without a team to support, and a legacy to protect, Kyle would have spent the summer holed up in his apartment, punching every wall and screaming into every pillow at how disgusted and disappointed he was at this whole sorry situation. But after years of loving him, and caring for him, it had been Kyle's turn to step up and do some protecting of his own. He owed his parents that much.

"After everything you've done for me, it's the least I can do. Where is dad, anyway?"

"In his office," his mom replied. "He'll come down when dinner is ready."

"Kyle!"

They both jolted at the sound of his dad's voice.

"Hey, dad!" Kyle replied, moving towards the stairs.

"Come on up, son, I want to talk to you!"

Kyle didn't reply, glancing at his mom instead for some indication of what he wanted to talk about. Since they both knew that a private conversation with him meant being talked at, rather than talked to. But she appeared none the wiser, and just as wary.

"I'll call you both when dinner is ready," she offered.

Kyle smiled appreciatively, before jogging upstairs to his father's office.

There were many things Kyle's father had tried to instil into him and his brother growing up, and the importance of privacy was one of them. His father valued it more than anybody else Kyle had met, especially when concerning his office. Elusive and shrouded in mystery when Kyle was a child, being invited into his office was a cause for celebration, a mark of approval. Kyle remembered standing outside the office as a boy, waiting for his dad to open the door, giddy with excitement. Standing outside it now, Kyle felt unnerved and ashamed. They say ignorance is bliss, and Kyle was still unsure if he even wanted to possess the knowledge of a side to his father he had once kept so well-hidden, concealed behind that office door. He supposed he didn't have a choice now. Rubbing the last lipstick stain off his face before his dad could comment on it, Kyle then knocked.

"Come in, come in!" his dad replied from the other side.

He jumped up from his armchair when Kyle stepped into the office, and Kyle winced. Stilted and eager to please, his every action seemed to be disingenuous now, squirmy, one eye always searching for a way out of whatever situation he was in. Still, he managed a tight smile.

"How are you, son?"

"Good, good..."

"You want something to drink?" his dad asked. "I could pour you a glass?"

Kyle nodded, glancing at the drink his father had already made for himself.

"Sure, thanks."

The brassy globe drinks cabinet was already opened by his father's side, and Kyle watched him pour a glass of red wine. Not his first choice, but he wasn't going to argue. He accepted the drink silently.

"Go ahead, take a seat!" his father said, gesturing to the matching leather chair opposite him.

Faded and ostentatious, Kyle and Ike both used to pretend they were thrones. They were the princes being summoned to the royal court by their father, who, with his players as knights and his fans as subjects, was the closest thing to royalty they would ever experience. They sipped at their drinks in silence, and Kyle glanced around the room. The setting sun was carving the shadow of the windowpane onto the carpet, the record player was collecting dust in the corner, and he winced at the computer and the immaculate desk.

"That was a, uh, impressive interview you gave in AFA Digest," his dad said, nodding slowly. "You came off very well."

"Thank you."

"Did it bother you though?" his dad's eyebrows were furrowed, almost pleading Kyle to tell him what he wanted to hear. "All the references to this terrible mess? It bothered the hell out of me when I was reading it."

Kyle shifted in his seat. Of course it bristled him when it was brought up in the interview. But it was woven into their legacy now. Painful as it was, Kyle couldn't erase it and didn't feel that he should. He couldn't stop those misogynistic and racist emails from existing, but he could damn well make sure they didn't happen again.

"Well, sure, it was-"

"I bet it's all they talked to you about beforehand, forgetting it was a crime that those emails were even leaked in the first place! A total invasion of privacy! I know I'm in the public eye, but come on, isn't it better that I said all those things in confidence to a friend than at a press conference? Or in an interview, for that matter?"

"People expected better of you and Garrison, dad," Kyle replied, his voice taut. "That's why they were so upset. You were in positions of power and when you talk like that, even in private, it sends a damaging message to-"

"But we were just kidding! Has nobody got a sense of humour anymore?" He shook his head and sighed, staring into his half-empty glass. "We come from a different time. That's the problem, we're too old and set in our ways to keep up with the rules... back in my day, this whole thing would have been a non-issue." He returned his gaze to Kyle then, as if his incredulity had emboldened him. "It would be something you could joke about at the bar after a game, hell, in a conference room and everybody would have laughed. There would be no outrage, no scandal... Christ, look at Jack Tenorman! He was the best quarterback the Mustangs had ever known, an icon, and universally loved by the fans, but his attitude towards women wasn't exactly gentlemanly... he was a serial womaniser, and that's no exaggeration. It was a known fact, and people still worshipped him! Even though he had a wife and two sons. Not even that stopped him! The press just needs to let this whole thing go. Hopefully this article is the turning point. It even said that your appointment is the start of a new era! How does that feel, huh?"

A grin had spread across his face, infectious. Kyle smiled, bashful, playing with the stem of his glass.

"Pretty great, pretty surreal..."

"It may not seem like it, but we've got the edge this season, Kyle. Believe me, we really have. A point to prove and some young blood. I'm still unconvinced by that young, arrogant, PC upstart they got to replace Garrison though." He tutted and shook his head. "Straight out of a frathouse and that's who the association elects as president of the team? Now, that's scandalous! Remember how furious Garrison was at the meeting?"

Kyle nodded, recalling Garrison's final, outrageous rant that had left everybody stunned and unable to talk even fifteen minutes after he'd stormed out of the boardroom.

"At least I could choose my successor without all that bureaucratic crap," his father continued. "The association wholeheartedly agreed you were the best fit. This is a family team after all, built on tradition. My father founded this team, and you and I both are following in his footsteps. It's an incredible thing to be a part of, isn't it?"

It was what Kyle had been waiting for his whole life, but he had never comprehended the magnitude of it until now.

"It's a huge responsibility, that's for sure..."

"You'll do a great job, son. You've still got a couple weeks until the season starts to let this all sink in. Look at the positives, you've got a team energised and motivated to really make a splash this season, and a new signing to help them along-"

"Actually, he's my biggest concern," Kyle cut in, troubled by even the mention of their newest player. "I still think we were too hasty in signing him, no matter how talented he is. He's still been disrespectful about the team in the past and I'm not sure what kind of message that sends out... plus, it's not exactly great for team spirit. I mean, the reason we wanted to trade Damien Thorn so badly was because his attitude sucked, and the team hated him."

His father rolled his eyes, a dismissive smile on his face.

"Come on, Kyle, those past comments were clearly just bluff, bravado, or whatever you want to call it... you saw for yourself when we were brokering the deal how charming he was!"

Kyle couldn't deny that, but still maintained that Eric Cartman's Cheshire cat grin, his conviction, the way he carried himself, and how he so swiftly dismissed one person so he could impress another made him inaccessible. Even his broad, formidable stature and hypnotic golden eyes had irked Kyle and were hard to shake from his mind.

"He couldn't have been more apologetic about his behaviour," his father added.

"Yeah, with you," Kyle mumbled. "He barely acknowledged me."

Granted, Kyle was yet to be announced as owner when the deal had been made. Still, he would've appreciated more than just a bone-crushing handshake and a few cursory glances accompanied by an infuriating, knowing smile.

"May have been your attitude," his father replied, immediately returning Kyle to the present. His father had arched a wry eyebrow at him. "You don't hide your feelings well. Look, the reason he tried to distance himself from the Mustangs when he was starting out, and when he was the hot new property, is he doesn't want to live in his father's shadow. That's understandable, isn't it?"

Before Kyle could reply, he was interrupted by his mom calling them for dinner.

A/N: How was that? First chapters are always a little tricky to write, but hopefully this was informative enough, without being a huge chunk of exposition, and leaving you guys wanting to find out more. Thanks again!