it has been quite some time since i last updated and now that i've finally updated again, the chapter is short... oh well, hopefully more frequent updates from now on. reviews are much appreciated!


A week has passed. Miraculously enough, England went through to the round of sixteen. The reason why was simple; Portugal was found guilty of paying the referee. Although Simon wasn't aware of it during the game, when he watched it back he could see it as clear as day. Russia and England were given the points they lost versus Portugal and came to a total of three points. It was a matter now of who won the game or who scored the most goals and conceded the least. Neither of that happened, so it was decided by penalties and God bless MacTavish. His goal was an absolute stunner for a penalty; using Ronaldo's trick so that the ball would bounce off the ground, MacTavish shot it in the upper left corner.

That was also the last penalty they needed to score to advance, making t extra special. MacTavish was a natural talent under pressure, it seemed, and delivered what he needed give. In the meantime, Simon was celebrating the win at home too; he wasn't necessarily happy that England won, but MacTavish did. He was far more important than England to Simon. Okay, Merrick too, but that isn't the point.

They had a relatively easy opponent next in the round of sixteen. It was just Chile, a team that England has always been able to beat and the same this time. All it took was one sprint from Allen through the defense for it to completely break down. As for England's defense? Merrick and David Walker were terrifying that night. Two goals from Gideon and one hell of a header from Mitchell and they secured their place in the quarter finals.

Simon began to think he may have been wrong about his prediction. Maybe England does have a pretty neat chance at at least getting in the top four, that's what he thought. They only had to win the next match in the quarter finals and boom, automatically top four.

He was honestly thinking that'd also happen, so he was confused when Toad texted him to google England out of nowhere. Simon had ignored those texts because though it was maybe two in the morning in England, it was six for Simon. Well, actually he shouldn't be complaining, but he was. He should also have a talk with Toad about his worrisome sleeping schedule.

Having buried his head underneath his pillow and praying Toad would just stop and let him sleep, Simon sighed. He was glad to hear his phone stop beeping, probably Toad has gotten annoyed.

The thing now was that Simon couldn't go back to sleep as he was too awake now. Thank you very fucking much, Toad. With a loud groan Simon got his head from underneath the pillow and got out of bed, not bothering to check his phone. Whatever it was must not be that important if Toad hasn't called.

Going through his usual morning routine, Simon was surprised that he could already hear footsteps outside of his hotel room. It sounded as if someone was running and as if it was coming closer. Jesus, can't people go jog outside or so? Simon thought as shaved the beard that was threatening to appear. Sure, a stubble suited him, but the beard was just annoying.

As he threw some water on his face for good measurement, he heard rapid knocking on the door. He wasn't too worried though, so he took his time with getting ready to open the door.

Getting ready meant making sure his hair looks good because that's all that matters.

"MacTavish?" Simon asked, even more confused that he already was thank s to Toad. He was talking about googling England, does that mean the team did something stupid? Judging by MacTavish's frown and how his scar was screaming something that equals oh look at me I'm edgy, but in a MacTavish way; yes. The answer was that they did something incredibly stupid.

Simon stepped aside to let MacTavish and closed the door behind them. Both appreciate privacy, Simon assumes, so he even locked it. He felt MacTavish's gaze all over his body, but oddly enough didn't feel ashamed. First of all, they both are male so knew they both have a dick, nothing to hide. Second of all, Simon was walking around in just boxers; that was like asking to get stared at.

"So, what's up? It's fucking early and I doubt we can go anywhere besides the park, but fuck if i know its location," Simon said as he sat down on his bed. He patted the spot next to him for MacTavish to sit, who was pacing around the room.

Simon decided to let him pace around all he wants for a bit before stopping him, but seemed as if he doesn't have to do anything as the other eventually sat down on his own. MacTavish dropped his head on Simon'shoulder. It resembled the way Simon did the exact same just a week ago, but only he didn't look frustrated then.

"You were right when you said the team hates Shepherd."

"No shit, I'm always right."

MacTavish groaned loudly at Simon's reply. He definitely wasn't in the mood for this, he could figure out so Simon just let him speak further without further interrupting him.

"So - God, why am I telling you this - so last night, a few hours ago, Ajax was making himself coffee. No idea what exactly happened, I was asleep, but he apparently did something and it pissed off Shepherd."

Simon raised an eyebrow. Ajax, he was familiar with that nickname and knew who he was talking about. The man's an angel though, so what the hell? How could he ever piss off Shepherd? That already sounded fishy.

He kept his mouth shut though and gestured for MacTavish to continue with his story, which he gladly did.

"He called everyone downstairs, most looked like zombies, but that doesn't matter. Then he started complaining about how the team never listens to him and such bullshit, you know. You're still ruder than him, but the difference is that he talked shit about everyone individually without knowing what he's talking about. You're a sports journalist god, so from you it's acceptable, but him? No way in hell."

"So, what you're trying to tell me is…" Simon questioned. He was getting what MacTavish was talking about, understood it completely, but its purpose? No idea.

"Well, we forced him to leave."


"Okay, do you now understand why you're so stupid? Couldn't it at least have waited until the World Cup is over?"

Simon being Simon, after MacTavish finished his story, immediately went on a rant about how the team is committing suicide. Not actual suicide, no one was dying yet. Simon just used that as a way to describe how badly they've fucked up.

MacTavish stayed quiet throughout the entire rant. Yes, he believed that Shepherd should leave, but he agreed that this was a bad timing. There's also a reason why Simon is a god compared to other sports journalists; he's honest. No matter how brutal, he'll say it the way it is. It was exactly what MacTavish needed; someone to just scold him for being such an idiot.

Both men calmed down for a moment or two, slowly breathing. Simon was still trying to believe what he has just been told; fuck, they got Shepherd sacked exactly what they need someone. Not necessarily Shepherd, but just a coach. He was just trying to believe how stupid they are, it was unbelievable.

But he still has one question, one very important one regarding Simon himself.

"Why are you telling me this? So I can write about it? Because we both know that'll end up with me insulting the shit out of everyone," Simon said. It was an undeniable fact that he can and will talk about how ridiculous this situation is. Still, can't someone else do it?

MacTavish shook his head though. "That's not quite it…" he mumbled, head still on Simon's shoulder while he had found a way to intertwine their hands again, "you're qualified to be a coach, aren't you? Like, you have an UEFA Pro License?"

"To know what I'm talking about before talking trash about others. Have you been stalking me again?" Simon's first question was. A smirk appeared on MacTavish's face, but he shrugged as if he doesn't know what he's talking about.

"Simon Riley, twenty-seven years old, born in Manchester on the twelfth of April…" MacTavish began to name the first things you come across if you google Simon.

"That's just basic stuff," Simon chuckled. Not as if he would've minded if MacTavish actually did further research on him. In fact, he'd be amused because wow, first time someone is interested in him.

"You're single, into both men and women and I'm going to assume you're a top, but that can be changed," MacTavish continued. The thing about change sounded odd to Simon; what the hell was that supposed to mean? He wasn't going to deny the rest though as it was true. He was also quite curious about how MacTavish even found out about that information; did an outsider get his Snapchat or so?

"Anyways, tell me about the coaching thing now;" Simon said, deciding it might be better to change the topic now before they completely forget about the purpose of this chat. He had some idea what MacTavish needed for him.

MacTavish closed his hand around Simon's before turning so his chin was resting on his shoulder. He seemed to be figuring out how to ask the question without receiving an instant no, it seemed. Looked like he has learned Simon is most likely to say no to almost everything.

Once he had it figured out, he opened his mouth to speak. "Well, so now we don't have a coach anymore and the assistant coach also left with Shepherd, we have no one. I've already talked with your intern about this—"

—when the fuck did MacTavish get Toad's number—

"—and he said he's willing to be assistant coach if you work as coach until the end of the tournament. Maybe if we find someone suitable, for a shorter time."

For that thinking he has done, Simon still needed to hold himself back from saying no. As much as he dislikes the idea, he doesn't dislike MacTavish. It still was nothing romantic, but he has formed a soft spot for the man.

A sigh escaped his lips when MacTavish pouted at him. Sure, he has seen many cute things, but that was too cute. "Fine, I'll think about it," he gave in, one hand on his forehead ad the other was in MacTavish's hand.

Said person smiled and shuffled a hit closer to Simon. While previously their sides weren't touching, they now were. Oddly enough, Simon couldn't care less.

"You're the best, Simon," MacTavish mumbled and Simon detected a hint of tiredness in his voice that he failed to notice earlier.

Simon stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking, but wished he spoke earlier as suddenly he heard quiet snoring.

"Ah, so you still run on England time…" Simon chuckled and couldn't resist kissing MacTavish's hair.

Making sure to not wake him up, Simon stood up slowly and pushed MacTavish's limbs onto the bed. Placing him so he'd sleep comfortably turned out to he more difficult to do quietly, but it was worth it when he was done.

Simon touched the undone mohawk on top of MacTavish's head, enjoying the feeling of silky hair in his fingers. Such a shame gel makes hair hard.

As last Simon pulled the blanket he was using over MacTavish's sleeping body. The man probably needed sleep after everything and even if that means doing stuff like this, Simon doesn't mind.