The World Cup started. It was great; people were waving the flag of their country, Russia seemed so lively and Shakira was singing. The most important one was definitely Shakira. Simon would be lying if he says that her hips do lie because if that openings performance isn't one of the most arousing things ever, he wants to see which porn exactly beats her.

While football fans were preparing for either the best month of their lives or for a month full of heartbreaks, Simon was tearing down every single team. Group by group, team by team. He had finished cursing whoever thought that tiki-taka is a good thing that should be implemented in Spanish football and saying that watching France play with the expectation of them winning is like expecting the Dutch team to ever qualify for a tournament soon; it won't happen.

The forum he was on was hilarious though; football fans never fail to amuse him. One for one too petty to admit that the chance their team will win is one in thirty-two. The chance they'll get out of the group stage might be even smaller depending on how good the team is. He's sure he has had at least twenty people send him private messages, each including a death threat or a nice suggestion to go kill himself. He of course politely declined by sending back 1v1 me at the gates of hell. Not professional, but he was trying to sound like a football fan. The only way he can achieve that is by sounding like some twelve year old playing Call of Duty online. The difference is that he doesn't use the n-word.

He was expecting many things to happen. For example his "boss" Toad - who works both as intern and boss somehow - calling him to tell he wants someone else to mentor him or that he is fired as the one covering England's campaign. No matter how suicidal it is to be forced to cover every single bit of it, he had to make sacrifices if he wants to tear down England and its captain.

Speaking of the captain, Simon is surprised he hasn't been texted yet. Sure, he was an asshole, but he has seen what MacTavish said about their interview; an interesting, but humorous experience. Besides, his Instagram post also said only nice things about him. Simon would accept bith as a compliment if it wasn't for the headache caused by guess who.

If your answer was the John MacTavish, congratulations, you answered correctly. He guessed that the man was too busy preparing to lift the cup with England on FIFA 18 to text. Now onto round two of the quiz.

But, as much as Simon dislikes people and social interaction, he was kinda wishing that MacTavish called alreadt.. The night had only begun and he was already contemplating to go to a bar and drink vodka because, man, he's in Russia. Surely at some point in time someone made it illegal to go to Russia and not drink vodka while there. He's positive the same goes for writing about Russia. Unfortunately - or fortunately, in Simon's opinion - England was in the group with Russia, Portugal and Colombia. That was going to be a lot of alcohol, fish and chips and just to do honor to Pablo Escobar's country, he'll try to get his hands on some drugs.

Okay, point of the story, Simon can't live without alcohol, nor can he live without bothering people. There was a difference between annoying people online and in real life. MacTavish was just the perfect target, but he doesn't like starting things. Well, he could trick MacTavish into saying something dumb so that Simon can be his usual asshole self.

Maybe he can trick MacTavish into calling him.

He wasn't expecting anything when he texted MacTavish the link to their interview. It was now written into words and slightly edited so neither will have to deal with UEFA later. He also sent the raw draft of it, unedited and all the insults were there along with a spoken message about how if MacTavish lets it leak to the press, he'll personally come scarve a penis on the eye without scar.

He didn't get a response straightaway, just as expected, but Simon did notice that right before he closed his phone that MacTavish read it. Huh, for once not busy with his hair Simon hummed to himself. Well, he supposes to have a magnificent mohawk like MacTavish, you need to put some effort in it.

He put his phone right next to his keyboard so he'd see it when MacTavish replies as he continued answering the next five new death threats. As tiring as it was, someone has to do it and since he brought this all upon himself, he has to. At least he gets a good laugh out of how unoriginal each one of them is.

Ten minutes had passed before Simon finally got his reply. You should post the draft somewhere too. I thought you're a honest journalist the reply was and Simon snorted. There was something funny about getting called a journalist. Especially since he never intended to become one and also never studied for it. It just happened.

Don't trust the press Simon sent back. MacTavish only replied with a laughing emoji before asking if he watched Shakira's performance. Of course he did, what sane man wouldn't? Besides a gay man maybe, but even a gay man would watch her. Simon here is that gay man, though he supposes the name bisexual who prefers men way more is more fitting.

From then on, Simon wasn't paying attention to his laptop. Instead he found MacTavish more interesting than an entire army of football fans that seemed to be out for his head. He found himself joking with MacTavish, making fun of France - finally someone who agrees with him. He was having fun, it almost felt as if they were friends.

That should've been the first sign this was heading in the wrong direction.

"—and, finally, the tears of a bunch of salty England fans mixed with some coffee." Simon looked around his hotel room to see if he has everything he needs before he has to commit mental suicide aka England versus Colombia. At least he has James Rodriguez as eye candy and depending on if he let his hair be curly, Gary Sanderson. on certain people curly hair is such a turn on and the right winger was a perfect example of that. He betted the guy's a masochist judging by how often he gets himself hurt during games. Almost just perfect for Simon. From what he has seen the guy is straighter than a guy who says "no homo" after being nice to another guy though.

You know, Sanderson may actually be gay.

Three more minutes until kick off, Simon has already talked about what he is expecting to happen. "This is going to be like some porno. England as the female, crying as the male, Colombia, pounds her into being his bitch. Not as if she isn't that already," he had said. The live chat right next to it was already threatening him, but it were friendly threats. You know, the type of threats you get from friends. He was fairly positive he saw Toad's name somewhere as well.

The teams were walking out the tunnels up to the field and oh, if that isn't one handsome Scot upfront. For a traitor that betrayed his own country and went to England looking for success, he did look good.

Not good enough to distract Simon from Gary Sanderson right there behind him though.

"If only this was a porno. Sanderson is cute enough for it, looks like the ideal twink," Simon blurted out, something he does quite a lot. He was glad that they could only hear him through live commentary. He was sure Sanderson would sue him for sexual harassment if people could see how far he went with his joke.

"As adults, let's all talk about this for a second; from the England players, who're the ones to bottom and who'd top?" Simon decided to ask for entertainment's sake.

Simon was humored when he saw the chat actually responding to his question and he made a mental note to himself to not save this. Sanderson, Allen and Logan Walker would have to sue so many people if they saw it. As far as tops were chosen; Merrick, Russ and MacTavish were the most wanted. He doubted any of them would mind topping any of the three bottoms mentioned earlier.

Simon, however, almost threw up when he saw that the Walker brothers surely have done it before. Okay, rumors about a gay incest scandal have been spread about them since a certain picture posted by David, that's true. It doesn't change that it's one of the most disgusting things he'll ever hear of in his life.

One of the other things that also was disgusting, as expected, was the match.

If only it wasn't for the promise of money, Simon would've committed suicide within ten minutes of the game.

Simon finished up the commentary, even drafted the article - and may have mocked MacTavish for his red card and David Walker for plainly existing - and edited it for the biggest part by the time he went to bed. He would've stayed up longer if only he wasn't immune to coffee. He was surprised he didn't fall asleep halfway through the first half.

Beating suicide was much more fun than he thought, especially with the watchers he had. He wasn't sure about the exact number, but he knew it were a lot. Fortunately for him, most were used to his asshole comments and food analogies, but he enjoys reading the chat way too much at times. His croissant analogy definitely delivered the most interesting live chat.

As fun as it may have been, everyone needs sleep. Some may claim sleep is for the weak, but Simon? He was longing for it now and was glad that his day was finally over. He has done way too much work, so much that he's even too tired to go on online forums and piss of Uruguayan fans; something Toad would highly disapprove of because, as he said, it isn't the fans' fault Suarez bit a ref and the team was immediately disqualified. Sometimes the American would go as far as claiming it's unfair and if only it wasn't for how much power he has as intern, Simon would've fired him and written so many complaints.

Every single one of those complaints would turn into love confessions though. At least one would say that Simon is saying that they can take half of his salary and give it to Toad for a well deserved vacation.

Bless that Toad's still in England.

It's a curse how every time Simon just wants a good night of rest, he ends up having nightmares about his intern. That guy was like the devil's son, cockier than Ibrahimovic and Ronaldo combined and that definitely meant something. He's surprised Toad doesn't refer to himself in third person yet, the keyword here being yet.

Simon was staring up at his ceiling, waiting for sleep to come to him and rest well for one night. In his opinion he definitely deserved that, but opinions can differ per person.

Also per asshole.

"MacTavish…" Simon groaned as he accepted the call, not giving a damn about how sexual he sounded. It seemed like MacTavish also thought it sounded more like a sexual groan than an annoyed groan by how the man coughed, muttering something incoherent to himself.

Simon was debating on whether to hang up as it stayed silent on the other side of the line except for some rustling in the background. Justas his finger went to the red button he heard the man speak.

"You're a fucking asshole."

Now it was Simon's turn to stay silent. Wait, did he just get called because MacTavish realized the obvious? "Don't you have any hobbies other than calling people and telling them facts?" Simon muttered and looked at the clock hanging across his room. "It's 2AM, you should be celebrating or getting into some sex scandal."

"What the hell should I be celebrating? We lost, three nil. You even wrote porn about it," MacTavish replied and Simon noticed a hint of tiredness in the man's voice.

Comment on it or keep quiet? Obviously comment. "Look dear, we're both tired so call me tomorrow. I mean, unless you want phone sex,. Generally men sound better right after they wake up so call me then," Simon said, completely dismissing what MacTavish said. They can talk about the porn Simon wrote after he is finished editing it and posting it on some fanfiction site.

A sigh was the only response he received, along with someone complaining about how fucking cold the room is in the background. Roommates, Simon guessed. He recognized the voice and knew it was one of the older guys, but he wasn't sure if it was Merrick. It could be that pedophile, God forbid he ever says his name again. He hoped it was Merrick, what an honor it'd be to hear his voice.

"You're coming to the next game, aren't you?" MacTavish asked, but it sounded more like he knew he was coming. Simon raised an eyebrow at the inquiry, not able to recall telling MacTavish about his schedule ahead of Russia. Not even Toad and it's his job to tell Simon his schedule or give it. Toad isn't quite known for doing his job the way he is supposed to anyways.

"The game is in two days, call me about it tomorrow," Simon sighed and for a second time reached for the red button.

"Great, let's watch the game together."

Ah, shit.

Simon paused and closed his eyes, trying to hold himself back from telling MacTavish how he'd rather watch the game with boring Milner who is nicknamed that for a reason. In fact, he'd rather play on England's side than watch it with MacTavish. Okay, not exactly true. It'd be career suicide to play for England so Simon's already surprised the team has so many players who are great individually. The keyword here being individually.

"As long as I'm allowed to write about Russia DP'ing you guys.

"You need hobbies and mental help, Riley."

"Great, good we found out things we already knew. Now, goodbye."

Simon didn't even give the man the chance to open his mouth and say anything as he immediately cut off the call. He knows that he'll be talking for longer if he keeps hearing him and as nice as MacTavish's voice may be, he isn't in the mood.

Still, almost ten seconds after he hang up, Simon saw a text appear at the top of his screen.

MacT: seats above the tunnel are free, see you there

Simon groaned at the thought of spending almost two hours with MacTavish. Go choke satan, Simon sent back.

But, you know, maybe it won't be that bad.