Chapter 11

Late that Sunday night, while John was lost in thought, his husband's Ancient Roman politics book dangling from his fingertips, in danger of falling completely, his phone rang.

John furrowed his eyebrows. "Hello?"

"John? Are you okay?" Bald John's voice was once again filled with worry.

John sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just been a long day. What's up? Why'd you call?"

Bald John, in his small apartment in Barcelona, took a much greater time to answer than usual. His husband was clearly preoccupied, and exhausted, and Bald John wished nothing more than to be there with him, to wrap him up in his arms and reassure him that it would all be okay, that they would make the right decision. But since he was in Barcelona, and not in Swindon, all he had were his words. So he worked even harder to make sure they were right. "Did you talk to Sinead?"

John leaned back on the couch in Swindon, closing his eyes. "No, I didn't. It was kind of awkward, and I didn't know what to say because we really hadn't determined anything, and I didn't want to give her the false hope of some sort of employment or whatever, and…" he trailed off, trying to ignore the feeling that he had messed everything up, and had let his husband down. "…I don't know. I didn't get the chance."

Bald John heard the exhaustion and frustration in his husband's voice, and it made him wish all the more that he was there, back home in Swindon with his arms around his husband. "You might want to give her a call, then."

"Yeah? Why's that?" John's voice picked up just a little bit.

Bald John smiled. "I was going to try to surprise you, but I realized this is something we should talk about instead." He could feel his husband's excitement build. "I've had a long day as well. I just finished a very long game of phone tag with a variety of important people. Tracking people down by phone is just exhausting."

"John," his husband interrupted, "you've never taken this long to tell me anything. You're making me worry that this might be bad news."

Bald John laughed, and the tension rising in John shattered. "I'm only messing with you. The result of the long day on the phone means that I'm most likely coming back to England at the transfer window."

The news was so stunning that John didn't have a good answer for him. "…really?" he asked, trying not to sound like a five year old who was just told that they were vacationing in Disney World.

His husband chuckled. "Really." The joy in both of their voices was tangible, and such a relief after the stressful events of the weekend.

"Well, where are you going to go?"

Bald John sat back. "I was hoping you could help me with that. Where do you think I should go?"

John paused for a fraction of a second. "Well, you could go anywhere, really, coming from Barça. Obviously you're not going to come back to Swindon, though. And, as a selfish request, I've never played against you, and I'm not looking to start now, so maybe not a Championship League side, since we might not get promoted this season. You could…" he gasped, "JOHN! You could go play for Liverpool! Oh my God, that would be so great. Finally, a John Green, playing for Liverpool."

Bald John let out a full belly laugh at his husband's sudden excitement. "Liverpool is a little far, don't you think? I'd rather live with you and April."

John shot up so fast he bumped his knee against the table and dropped the heavy history book on his foot. "Ah OH MY GOD April. We could adopt April. We could actually adopt her." Regardless of how many times he said it as he stumbled around, rubbing his knee with his free hand, it just wouldn't sink in. "God. April." He spun around, surveying the messy room. "Oh. We need to childproof. And clean out that guest room for Sinead, and the other room for April, and oh God I should call Clare right away, and…"

"John," his husband interrupted, his voice calming, dripping with reason. "Maybe you should call Sinead first, and see if she'd like the job."

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. His husband had a point. As usual. "Right. Well, shouldn't we talk about what we're offering her? Like, salary and housing and everything? What are we offering her, anyways?"

Bald John smiled. "Call Sinead and see if she'd be interested in the job first," he insisted. "If possible, the best way to discuss that would be for the three of us to sit down and negotiate."

John sighed. "But you're not going to be back in town for another few weeks, right? We've both got busy game schedules leading through the Christmas games and into January."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. One step at a time, John."

xxx

John hadn't felt this nervous making a phone call since that one time he'd decided to make contact with a boy he liked, back in his ninth year. He didn't want to come out of the closet just yet, of course, but he'd wanted to make friends with Bert. He would have come out, though, if Bert turned out to be gay.

Turns out, he wasn't. Got a girlfriend about a month after John failed to make friends with a disastrous phone call. John had stuttered and flushed and mumbled so much over his name that, by some miracle, Bert never even found out who had called.

This phone call wasn't nearly as disastrous as that one, but that didn't stop John from stuttering and flushing and mumbling and being an all-around nervous wreck.

"Well, the, uh, the reason I was calling was, see, I just got off the phone with John, my uh my husband, and well it...it sounds like he's coming back to England to play out the second half of the season, and well we were kinda hoping that maybe you'd be interested in caring for April during that time?"

Sinead's silence was deafening. Finally: "You want me to come work for you?"

John nodded vigorously as he paced the hallway, both forgetting and very grateful that she couldn't see him nervously running his hand through his hair, making it puff up to record heights. "Yeah, John and I want you to be a live-in nanny of sorts. Since we both play football, and the hours are crazy and often unpredictable, and April is so little, we didn't want her to be in a daycare all day, and we thought you might be the best option for a babysitter, since you already know us, and April already knows you, and all that. Would you be interested? We'd be willing to sit down and negotiate salary and housing and anything else you might be concerned about at some point, but we're looking to have this position filled in before we contact Clare and continue the adoption process first…"

"John," Sinead interrupted when he took a breath, "I'd love to. That sounds like a great idea. Maybe my mother would get off my back a little bit about making plans for next year if I told her I got a full-time position." She giggled, and John let out a deep sigh of relief. "Anyways, while you might not have a lot of time to hand in your final decision, you do have a lot of time before April actually comes to live with you. If for some reason it doesn't work out with me, you'll have plenty of time to find someone else to help you out. And I'm not predicting that it won't work out with me, but you'd definitely have other options for people."

She was right, of course. Seemed like everybody else besides John was right today. "That sounds fantastic, Sinead. I'm so relieved that this all came together this way…" He collapsed into a chair in the living room. "John and I will definitely be in touch soon about details and everything, but now…" he yawned "I think I need to sleep. Though I should call John first, and maybe even Clare…" He leaned his head against the back of the chair, suddenly exhausted from the day's hectic events. It took a lot of energy to switch so quickly between emotions the way he had today. And all that thinking – man, that was draining.

Sinead laughed. "Go to sleep, John. You can take care of everything else tomorrow."

Sleepily, John replied, "Mmm I guess so. Maybe you'll be taking care of more than just April while you're here." Then, with the phone still pressed against his cheek, John drifted off to sleep. At some point, he vaguely remembered dragging himself upstairs to collapse into the bed that still seemed way too big for just himself.

xxx

Bald John Green stared at his phone all morning while he prepared himself for the day's practice. Why hadn't John called back? Had Sinead said no? What had happened the night before? He tried to convince himself that nothing bad had happened, that his husband was okay, that everything was okay, but he had trouble concentrating. Finally, he could stand the silence no longer, and dialed his husband during his lunch break.

The first thing John noticed when his husband picked up was how disoriented he sounded.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted softly. "Don't you have practice this morning?"

There was a bit of rustling through the phone, and suddenly John cursed very loudly into his husband's ear. "Shit, John. I was supposed to be up two hours ago." He groaned loudly. "Oh f—. Manager John is going to kill me." There was more rustling as John got up – very slowly, Bald John noted – and stumbled around the room searching for his practice clothes.

Bald John furrowed his eyebrows. "What happened last night, John?"

"I don't know. Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess. After I got off the phone with you, I called Sinead, and then I think I went to sleep, though I remember falling asleep on the chair downstairs, and now I'm in our bedroom…" he trailed off. "Where the f— is my kit?" He groaned again. "I just want to go back to bed."

Bald John pressed his lips together. "You didn't have anything to drink last night, right?"

John barked out a sharp laugh. "No, John. I didn't drink last night. I must have been deliriously tired or something, though, which explains quite a bit about what I recall from my conversations with you and Sinead...AH! Found my kit. I've got to get down to the pitch. God, my hair looks awful. I look – and feel – like I was hit by a truck last night. My God."

Bald John sighed in relief. His husband was okay. More than just a little disoriented, but at least he was okay. "What did Sinead have to say when you called her?"

"Hmm? Oh, she said yes, of course." Suddenly, the force of his words hit John over the head. "Oh my God, she said yes. We're adopting April! I was going to call you last night, and Clare, but I guess I must have fallen asleep instead."

Bald John interrupted before his husband could get himself worked up again. "We'll do that after practice. You need to get moving, and my lunch break just ended. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

There was a pause, and Bald John assumed that his husband had nodded before realizing that nods are inaudible. "Yeah. I understand. I'll talk to you later, then. Love you."

John smiled as he paused outside the door of the Barça locker room. "I love you too, John."