NC-17 | A Most Awesome Coach | J2 AU | 1/2
I intended on going to the movies with the parents, clearing out lots of DVR stuff, writing more College AU. Instead I read fic and wrote this whole fucking thing in less than four hours.
Title: A Most Awesome Coach
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~9,000
Summary: Jensen coaches pee wee soccer, coaches Jared's kid, and he's definitely not crushing on him. Seriously, he's not. Except, he totally is.
Warning: Sex and kids, but not sex with kids. You know?
Notes: This is born from watching my niece and nephew play two months of pee wee soccer and how adorable all the fathers are with the kids. OMG. My ovaries almost 'sploded on a weekly basis.
Jensen loves soccer. It carried him through college with a hefty scholarship. He’s watched every World Cup from the quiet of his home so he can hear every bit of commentary. He keeps his league trophies up in his office with medals cascading down the front, telling the tale of his youth.
But right now, what brings him the most joy is watching his fall pee wee team sprint across the grassy field, all battling the ball with tiny feet and not even considering to … “Pass the ball!” he yells to the crowd of blue shirts being swarmed on by a bunch of yellow shirts. “You guys are on the same team! Pass the ball! Go to Chrissy! Chrissy’s open!”
He hears a few giggles from behind him and he just nods, knowing that the parents are usually more amused by the goofy play than anything else their children could do. And he pretty much is, too. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself before he calls out, “Junior! Get the ball to Junior!”
The kids finally break free with the ball and Nathan leads the charge, kicking the ball ahead of him while working his way to the left and away from yellow defenders. “Keep going! C’mon Nathan! Shoot the ball!”
Nathan, a few inches above the crowd with gangly legs and messy hair, keeps charging forward. He isn’t their strongest player, not by far. But he can sprint like the devil and his size intimidates enough of the competition to give him some space. When he kicks at the ball, he barely gets a toe on it and a yellow shirt charges in to steal it, knocking Nathan to the ground.
“Oh, geez,” Jensen groans, covering his face with a wide hand that finally slips over his mouth as he watches the other team take the ball down and slink between his blue defenders before smacking it right into the net. Yellow shirts dance about and blue shirts frown. Jensen claps and calls out to the kids to get back to the center, get ready for the next play. He sees how red-faced Nathan is and he immediately calls him over, nudging Isabelle out to take his place. As Nathan passes, he scruffs up the kid’s hair and smiles. “Good play, Nathan.”
He screws his mouth up. “I didn’t get it in.”
Jensen rubs once more and looks back to the field. “You will next time. Take a breather. You’ll go back in.”
He keeps cheering on his team, calling out plays, switching the order up and letting everyone play. But it’s a little sad for him to see the team come off the field after the final whistle. Chrissy pouts. “We lost, didn’t we?”
The corner of his mouth tugs just so, amused by her little attitude. “Yeah, we did,” he replies gravely, nodding his head. Her head nods slowly and then drops down as she marches to her parents, like it’s the worst news in the world.
He claps his hands, gets all the kids crowded around him, and bends at the waist to get close to them. “Alright, guys. You played hard today. I’m so proud of you,” he beams with meaning. “Everyone hustled and you guys really put ‘em on the run. That’s awesome.” Jensen reaches out with both arms, pinching at Ryan and Samantha’s shirts with a smirk. “And you two. Awesome on defense. Give it up high,” and he raises both hands to give them five.
“But we lost,” Chrissy points out.
Jensen nods and shifts towards her for a moment before taking in the entire team. “Yes, we did. But it was a great effort.”
“But we lost,” she repeats, legs spread wide and arms crossed.
He wants to laugh, but doesn’t think embarrassing a seven-year-old is a good idea right now. “Well, yes, Chrissy. But it was just one to zero. Very close game.” She sighs and turns to shrug at her parents, who are amused by her. He claps his hands again and stands up. “Okay, practice Wednesday? Game next Saturday at noon. Make sure you’re here early enough to practice and now …” He eyes them seriously until they all stare back.
Each eye lights up and suddenly the kids jump up with arms in the air and the whole group shouts, “Snacks!”
“Snacks!” he cheers along with them then moves away so they can run over to whichever parent brought the juice boxes and fruit snacks.
“Coach Ackles?”
“Jensen,” he immediately corrects as he looks down to Nathan. Coach and Ackles always make him shiver into thinking he’s so much older than he is.
“Jensen,” Nathan nods.
He smiles. “What’s up, buddy?”
Nathan bites his lip and starts to curl his fingers into the hem of his shirt. “I might be late on Wednesday.”
Jensen looks up to Nathan’s mom, a petite brunette who’s moving closer. He looks back to Nathan and asks easily, “How late you think you’re gonna be?”
One quick look to his mom then back to Jensen and it’s like his face shrugs for him. “I dunno. My mom has work and my dad does, too. But my uncle might drop me off? I dunno.”
He winks at Nathan’s mom then places a hand at Nathan’s shoulder. “You get here when you get here, okay?”
“You sure?”
“No problem,” Jensen shrugs. He pats at Nathan’s shoulder. “We’ll fit you in.”
“I don’t wanna miss it.”
His eyebrows crinkle at how serious Nathan is. “Don’t worry about it. Okay?”
“Nathan, why don’t you get your jacket?” his mom calls out sweetly. She pats his head as he runs past her to where their things are stacked onto a bucket chair. There’s a trace of a frown as she moves closer to Jensen. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to work out something to get him here earlier. I have a meeting and - ”
“Hey,” Jensen cuts in, waving a hand out. “No problem. It ain’t the majors or anything. He’ll still play.”
She twists her hands together while she smiles. “He’s just real excited about soccer. I didn’t think he would be, but he just jumped right in.”
Jensen smiles and nods. “He’s a good kid. He’s doing good.” And he means it, because Jensen’s seen a lot of kids float in and out of these pee wee leagues lacking so much and hardly paying attention to the ball. Yeah, Nathan could be better, but he tries and that’s what pleases Jensen most.
She nods and looks back at Nathan for a moment before facing Jensen. “Yeah. Gosh, I just … it’s hard. Kids these days.”
He laughs, knowing how many trouble children he’s seen and have had talk back to him. He’s grateful this is a good year with a great bunch of children. “Yeah, kids,” he nods.
*
At Wednesday practices, Jensen runs the kids through basic ball handling drills, has them do a few runs through kicking at the goal then sets them up for a quick scrimmage.
Nathan comes charging up, all but knocking Jensen out at the legs. He laughs down on the kid, holding him at the back before righting him. “Watch it, boy. I ain’t got rubber legs,” he laughs.
“Sorry, sorry,” he beams up at him. His chest is heaving and he’s practically panting. “I’m here. We ran all the way, I’m here.”
Jensen rests his hand at the top of Nathan’s head, trying to not be disgusted by the sweat already soaking his hair. He watches the two teams play each other and asks, “You run all the way from home?” with humor in his voice.
“No!” Nathan argues, pushing weak hands at Jensen’s leg. “From the parking lot. Duh.”
“How could I be so stupid?” Jensen shrugs down on him, big, dorky smile he’s sure. Because this kid always cracks him up with his enthusiasm.
“Can I play, huh?” Nathan asks, while jumping from one foot to the other.
He takes inventory of the field and directs Nathan to play forward alongside Junior, knowing it’s just scrimmage so it doesn’t matter much if there’s an extra player out there.
Nathan nods, seriously, and says, “Right-o.” Jensen watches as he pulls his hoodie off and turns to toss it behind him. “Hold this. I’m going in.”
The guy who’d come up with Nathan grabs it easily and grins. “Go get ‘em, peanut!”
Jensen just stares, because Lord Almighty, this guy is a good six-and-a-half feet of muscle and a bit more of tanned face, crooked smiles, and some rather unruly hair that’s begging to be grabbed. He’s shaken from the leer when Nathan calls out, haughty, as he jogs onto the field, “Dad!”
“Alrighty, tiger,” the guy calls back with a laugh.
He swallows, can’t do anything but swallow and stare back at the field. He crosses his arms tightly and crosses his eyes for a moment, willing the burn in his stomach to stop. Because that is definitely not the hottest guy he’s ever seen, and is most definitely Nathan’s dad. He can’t crush on him, cannot. His first year coaching in the league, he developed a tiny, little attraction to one of the girls’ fathers and he wound up all-but ignoring the guy, no matter how often he tried to talk to Jensen about Abby’s play.
At the end of the scrimmage, Nathan charges back and runs right into his dad’s arms with the same speed and push that he’d run into Jensen’s legs. But his dad easily swoops him up into the air, holding him high off the ground. “You did great, tiger!”
“Did you see?” Nathan shrieks as his dad pulls him down at his hip. He starts flapping his open palm against his dad’s shoulder, begging for a high five. “I almost scored a goal. I got real close. And Ryan blocked it, but what if he didn’t? I could’ve totally gotten it in!”
Jensen’s smiling, doesn’t even realize how dumb it is until Isabelle’s (single) mom taps him on the shoulder with a knowing smirk. “I see we have a new soccer dad,” she nearly sing-songs.
He turns towards her, running a hand over his head and down until he scratches at his neck. “Nathan’s dad,” he says matter-of-factly. His head tips to the side. “Something you need?”
The mom is barely hiding the fact that she’s checking out Nathan and his father as they walk away, the dad holding Nathan by the hands and swinging him forward and back as he takes long strides through the park. “Didn’t know Nathan had a dad.”
Jensen moves around to gather up the soccer balls and orange cones into his mesh bag. “I’m pretty sure everyone has a dad. Barring modern science.”
“Mmhmm,” she sounds out with a bright smile, and Jensen’s both horrified and comforted that someone else finds Nathan’s dad attractive. At least he’s not imagining things and overreaching in how good looking the guy is.
He’s left to himself when all the kids run off with their parents, but he can still see Nathan at the jungle gym, climbing up his father’s back and leaping to the monkey bars before his dad jumps up, grabs a bar himself and … literally monkeys around with him.
Jensen shakes his head, trying so hard to not care, to not see how playful they both are. But it’s beyond hard to ignore.
*
It gets worse that Saturday when Nathan’s dad shows up halfway through the game and settles in next to his mom. His voice is loud and happy, cheering out to his child so many times, no matter how close he is the ball, or how badly he shuffles the ball around the field, or even when he utterly whiffs at kicking the ball at the goal.
At the end of the game, Jensen gives his pep talk, trying to ignore Chrissy’s deathglares and simple, “We lost. Again.”
“Win or lose? You all played great,” Jensen smiles for them all, and they seem to forget she’s even said anything. “We got two goals, and you only let three through. So close!” He ruffles Ryan’s head when the kid looks to the ground, looking guilty for letting the last goal past him. “You’re all doing great. I’m so proud of you guys. And girls,” he smirks when Chrissy pouts. “Girls, too. You’re all getting better and faster. On Wednesday we’ll work on charging the net more, okay?” he asks with a wink and a little flick to Nathan’s shirt.
Nathan chuckles and beams. “Yeah!”
“Alright, guys … girls,” he tacks on again, but with a little less smile. “You know what now?”
“Snacks!” the children shout out and he says “Snacks, yeah,” less excited than them, and just smiling at them all running off to this week’s parents with the box of Capri Suns and Cheetos.
“Coach Ackles?” Jensen smirks with a tip of his head, and Nathan quickly amends. “Jensen? Jensen. I might be late again, but Dad promises we won’t be as bad.”
He pats Nathan’s shoulder and looks up to his mom and dad talking and nodding a bit before his mom perks up and calls, “Hey, sweetie. You bothering your coach?”
Before the conversation can go further, Jensen pats Nathan’s shoulder again. “That’s cool. But if it’s gonna be a weekly thing, let me know, okay?”
“Yeah! Thanks,” Nathan beams. He moves away but runs right back. “Jensen!”
“Yeah?”
He pokes a finger into Jensen’s shirt and Jensen looks down but doesn’t see the tiny fist knock up into his nose. He covers his face as Nathan giggles. “Gotcha!”
Jensen swipes down his face and tries to hide his blush. “Yeah, alright, buddy.”
He also tries to ignore how awesome Nathan’s dad’s smile is. Or how he laughs at the boy and hoists him up the air, over his head, and onto his shoulders like the boy were a feather.
*
On Wednesday, Nathan once again charges over and knocks into Jensen’s legs, laughing hysterically and red-faced. Jensen groans, because that impact was a bit more than before, but he easily grabs hold of the kid and sweeps him into the air for a long swoop across his body, landing on his other side. “Boy, you gotta watch yourself,” Jensen laughs.
Nathan giggles and pokes Jensen in the side. “I beat my dad all the way here.” He leans a little closer, pressing against Jensen’s thigh and pushing hands into his side. “He’s kinda slow.”
“Think it’s the long legs,” Jensen nods, patting Nathan and smirking. “Trips him up.”
Nathan nods and frowns, looking far beyond his years. “He is a giant beast.”
“Hey!” Nathan’s dad laughs while smacking at Nathan’s butt. “A little less picking on your father. Little more soccer.”
“Yes, sir!” Nathan calls out as he jogs onto the field to joins his team, running a long sequence of kicking balls into the net.
“Sorry for his energy. He’s a little wired about soccer.”
Jensen crosses his arms tight and only manages a tiny peek to Nathan’s dad. He nods then bites into his lips to stop the smile. “It is the world’s greatest sport.”
“So he says,” Nathan’s dad smiles and nods towards the field. “Starting to think you’re just brainwashing him.”
“When you get ‘em this young, it’s not hard,” Jensen smirks with a glance up at the guy. They’re both nodding and smiling and Jensen adds, “At least it isn’t golf. Little clubs aren’t little on the wallet.”
“Jesus, yes. Thank you,” he replies, smacking at Jensen’s upper arm with a smile. “Been trying to tell Sandy that forever. Kid can’t swing a bat and then she said football, but I argued over pads and helmets. How many moms you know beg for their children to knock heads with a bunch of kids?”
Jensen can’t stop smiling now, but he can turn to the field and not look at the guy. He just listens to him ramble on and on about the different sports they wanted to get Nathan into and how they readily agreed on soccer, figuring it was fairly low-contact and easy on the budget. It is cheap since kids only have to get shinguards and bottoms while the shirts and matching socks are provided by the park district. But to prove the rest of the point, Jensen grimaces as Nathan runs up to kick a ball at the net and completely misses it, landing on the ground.
“Oh, jeez,” his dad groans. Jensen laughs and looks over to the guy covering his face with both hands, barely peeking above his fingertips to see Nathan rolling over and slowly rising with a smile. Kid’s always smiling. “That’s my kid.”
“Yeah, it is,” Jensen chuckles while looking down to the ground and shuffling his feet.
“My kid can’t play."
He swallows and tries to not laugh at how pathetic the guy’s voice is. “He can play fine.”
“Nathan’s Charlie Brown. He’s never gonna kick that football.”
Jensen smirks and sounds out with proper accents, “Futbol.”
He manages to ignore the amused grin long enough to hand out netted jerseys and set the kids into two teams to scrimmage. But it’s not enough time to make him forget about the guy and how much they’d been joking around, how easy it was. “So, you one of those coaches who tells kids when they suck, or you one of the ones who just smiles and hugs and gets all touchy feely about everyone playing?”
With one eyebrow up high, he says flat, “I’m pretty sure touchy feely with the kids is illegal.”
“Right,” he laughs. “Yeah.” There’s a pause that’s uncomfortable in how long it lasts compared to how much the guy'd been chattering. Until he turns to Jensen and holds a hand out. “I’m Jared, by the way.”
Jensen nods, looks at the hand, and against his better judgment, shakes it. “Jensen.”
“Coach Jensen, alright.”
He bristles and pulls his hand away, so not registering how warm the palm had been or how firm the hold was. “Just Jensen’s fine.”
“Just Jensen, alright,” he smirks and nods, and Jensen’s doing his best to not register that either.
*
Jensen’s nearly screaming, he’s getting so excited and he’s moving fast down the sidelines. “Nathan! Go Nathan! C’mon! Keep going!”
Seconds later, Nathan kicks lamely at the ball and a few green shirts get in the way but he keeps right on going. He’s shuffling forward, pushing the ball closer and closer until he finally cocks his leg back and smacks the crap out of the ball, forcing it between defenders and into the net with a swoosh.
He’s jumping up, raising his hands and yelling, and it doesn’t even register how ridiculous it is until he realizes he’s reacting like all the kids on the field are, so he stops. He clears his throat and claps with a low voice. “Alright! Good job, Nathan! Let’s get back on defense.”
When the game is over, he watches Nathan, sees him sprinting off the field and right into his father’s arms, which heave him right up into a crushing hug. “Daddy! Did you see? I scored!”
“You did, peanut,” Jared beams, popping Nathan up and down in his arms. “You scored, baby!”
“And we won. It was seven to two. We had the seven and they had the two!”
Jensen laughs, so much louder than he thought he would. It catches their attention and Nathan’s still beaming while Jared’s smiling gently and Nathan’s mom (whose name is Sandy, as Jared let out during all his rambling at practice), is eyeing him with a crooked smile. He just waves and smiles. “He did great.”
Sandy moves closer to the boy, soothing a hand over his back. “We’re so proud of you, baby. You did so good!”
He can’t stop watching the scene. How perfect they all look together, and happy. So happy. All bright smiles, and it looks like Jared’s got wet eyes as he swipes a hand over Nathan’s hair, pushing it off his forehead before he leans in to kiss at his temple.
Jensen swallows and turns immediately. “I am so screwed,” he mutters as he moves to his things.
*
“We’re early!”
Jensen laughs at Nathan’s cry as he and his dad show up just minutes before practice starts. “That you are, buddy.” He pats Nathan’s back and calls out to everyone. “Alright, two laps around the field, then some dribbling around the cones!”
“Jensen?”
He turns to Chrissy’s firm voice. “Yes, Chrissy?”
“We won last week.”
There’s a nod and a hidden smile, but Jensen says firmly, “That we did.”
She eyes him for a few seconds and then says, “You think we’ll win this week?”
He smirks and pats her back. “I think we’ll do okay. Go on, join the team.”
“Okay? Man, you’ve got great confidence.”
Jensen smirks again, nodding at Jared. “Hey, Jared,” he says, instead of something stupid like wow, you’re insanely hot in that sweater or please tell me you’re on the verge of a gay crisis and gonna leave your wife?. Yeah, Jensen’s been having some manic dreams lately.
“Just Jensen,” he nods back.
He chuckles at the name. There’s a slow burn in his belly and his mouth feels tight as he fights more smiles. So, he decides today would be a good day for more interactive coaching and jogs out to the center of the field.
*
Saturday, the team wins 3-2 on the cusp of another late-in-the-game, if-it-weren’t-so-cute-it’d-be-pathetic goal from Nathan. Jensen does his best to ignore how insanely happy Nathan is as he runs into Jared’s arms, screeching over and over about how awesome this game was and how he scored the winning goal.
His chest burns and feels tight, seeing all the elation there, but he has to ignore it. Has to.
“Jensen?”
He looks down to Chrissy and is actually happy to see her serious little face. “Yes?”
“We won today.”
“Yes, we did,” he nods then eyes her. She’s still awfully serious. “Are you not happy that we did?”
“You said we’d do okay.”
Jensen looks up and around for her parents but all he sees are Jared and Nathan smiling at him. He works his mouth for a second before turning back to Chrissy. “Yes, and we did.”
“No, we didn’t.” His eyebrows go high and he’s startled when she suddenly grins and shrieks, “We did awesome!”
His smile feels more scared than happy, but he goes with it. “Yeah, Chrissy, you’re right. We did awesome.”
She shrieks more as she half-runs, half-bounces over to her parents.
“Think she’s in beginning stages bi-polar?”
Jensen turns to Jared, who’s Nathan-less and smiling. He looks around for the boy and spots him retrieving his snacks. His voice is mock-serious. “Yeah, I don’t want to label her.”
“She scares you doesn’t she?”
“Absolutely.”
Jared laughs, patting a hand at Jensen’s back. “Say, Nathan and I are getting ice cream. Big goal,” he adds with wide eyes and a nod.
“Yes, I know. I saw it,” he nods right back. “Would like to take credit for it, really.”
He laughs again. “You wanna join us?”
Jensen sobers and stares, no longer able to ignore the wide smile or the bright eyes of the man before him. He swallows, so knowing he should just say no, because there’s no way this is what he thinks it is. Jared is the only father who shows up to practice, the only parent who isn’t glued to a blackberry when the scores don’t count. He’s an active father, and interested in Nathan and is just getting to know the adults in his life and most of all, Jensen’s mind rambles on, he’s married.
“Do you have an aversion to dairy products? I do believe they have Icees there, too.”
He snaps out of it and gives a small smile, ready to say no, thanks when Nathan runs over, bouncing right off of Jared’s legs with a little “umph,” and they’re all laughing. “We going, dad? I want hot fudge and sprinkles!”
“Okay, peanut,” he says fondly, combing through Nathan’s hair. “Just trying to convince your coach to join us.”
Nathan’s eyes light up like the sun and he’s jumping up and down, grabbing onto Jensen’s hand. “Oh, my God! Yes, yes! You have to come! They have rainbow sprinkles and waffle cones dipped in more chocolate!”
Jensen laughs and tugs on Nathan’s hands then looks up to Jared. “I’m not so sure you should add sugar to this.”
Jared’s head tips a little and his smile is small. “He’ll be fine. You should come.”
Nathan pulls on Jensen’s hands some more and his heart warms at the attention, at the tiny hands wrapping around his fingers and he smiles gently at the boy. “Think they got Snickers?”
His face lights up again. “Oh, my gawd! They have a gazillion pounds of it!”
Part Two
Title: A Most Awesome Coach
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~9,000
Summary: Jensen coaches pee wee soccer, coaches Jared's kid, and he's definitely not crushing on him. Seriously, he's not. Except, he totally is.
Warning: Sex and kids, but not sex with kids. You know?
Notes: This is born from watching my niece and nephew play two months of pee wee soccer and how adorable all the fathers are with the kids. OMG. My ovaries almost 'sploded on a weekly basis.
Jensen loves soccer. It carried him through college with a hefty scholarship. He’s watched every World Cup from the quiet of his home so he can hear every bit of commentary. He keeps his league trophies up in his office with medals cascading down the front, telling the tale of his youth.
But right now, what brings him the most joy is watching his fall pee wee team sprint across the grassy field, all battling the ball with tiny feet and not even considering to … “Pass the ball!” he yells to the crowd of blue shirts being swarmed on by a bunch of yellow shirts. “You guys are on the same team! Pass the ball! Go to Chrissy! Chrissy’s open!”
He hears a few giggles from behind him and he just nods, knowing that the parents are usually more amused by the goofy play than anything else their children could do. And he pretty much is, too. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself before he calls out, “Junior! Get the ball to Junior!”
The kids finally break free with the ball and Nathan leads the charge, kicking the ball ahead of him while working his way to the left and away from yellow defenders. “Keep going! C’mon Nathan! Shoot the ball!”
Nathan, a few inches above the crowd with gangly legs and messy hair, keeps charging forward. He isn’t their strongest player, not by far. But he can sprint like the devil and his size intimidates enough of the competition to give him some space. When he kicks at the ball, he barely gets a toe on it and a yellow shirt charges in to steal it, knocking Nathan to the ground.
“Oh, geez,” Jensen groans, covering his face with a wide hand that finally slips over his mouth as he watches the other team take the ball down and slink between his blue defenders before smacking it right into the net. Yellow shirts dance about and blue shirts frown. Jensen claps and calls out to the kids to get back to the center, get ready for the next play. He sees how red-faced Nathan is and he immediately calls him over, nudging Isabelle out to take his place. As Nathan passes, he scruffs up the kid’s hair and smiles. “Good play, Nathan.”
He screws his mouth up. “I didn’t get it in.”
Jensen rubs once more and looks back to the field. “You will next time. Take a breather. You’ll go back in.”
He keeps cheering on his team, calling out plays, switching the order up and letting everyone play. But it’s a little sad for him to see the team come off the field after the final whistle. Chrissy pouts. “We lost, didn’t we?”
The corner of his mouth tugs just so, amused by her little attitude. “Yeah, we did,” he replies gravely, nodding his head. Her head nods slowly and then drops down as she marches to her parents, like it’s the worst news in the world.
He claps his hands, gets all the kids crowded around him, and bends at the waist to get close to them. “Alright, guys. You played hard today. I’m so proud of you,” he beams with meaning. “Everyone hustled and you guys really put ‘em on the run. That’s awesome.” Jensen reaches out with both arms, pinching at Ryan and Samantha’s shirts with a smirk. “And you two. Awesome on defense. Give it up high,” and he raises both hands to give them five.
“But we lost,” Chrissy points out.
Jensen nods and shifts towards her for a moment before taking in the entire team. “Yes, we did. But it was a great effort.”
“But we lost,” she repeats, legs spread wide and arms crossed.
He wants to laugh, but doesn’t think embarrassing a seven-year-old is a good idea right now. “Well, yes, Chrissy. But it was just one to zero. Very close game.” She sighs and turns to shrug at her parents, who are amused by her. He claps his hands again and stands up. “Okay, practice Wednesday? Game next Saturday at noon. Make sure you’re here early enough to practice and now …” He eyes them seriously until they all stare back.
Each eye lights up and suddenly the kids jump up with arms in the air and the whole group shouts, “Snacks!”
“Snacks!” he cheers along with them then moves away so they can run over to whichever parent brought the juice boxes and fruit snacks.
“Coach Ackles?”
“Jensen,” he immediately corrects as he looks down to Nathan. Coach and Ackles always make him shiver into thinking he’s so much older than he is.
“Jensen,” Nathan nods.
He smiles. “What’s up, buddy?”
Nathan bites his lip and starts to curl his fingers into the hem of his shirt. “I might be late on Wednesday.”
Jensen looks up to Nathan’s mom, a petite brunette who’s moving closer. He looks back to Nathan and asks easily, “How late you think you’re gonna be?”
One quick look to his mom then back to Jensen and it’s like his face shrugs for him. “I dunno. My mom has work and my dad does, too. But my uncle might drop me off? I dunno.”
He winks at Nathan’s mom then places a hand at Nathan’s shoulder. “You get here when you get here, okay?”
“You sure?”
“No problem,” Jensen shrugs. He pats at Nathan’s shoulder. “We’ll fit you in.”
“I don’t wanna miss it.”
His eyebrows crinkle at how serious Nathan is. “Don’t worry about it. Okay?”
“Nathan, why don’t you get your jacket?” his mom calls out sweetly. She pats his head as he runs past her to where their things are stacked onto a bucket chair. There’s a trace of a frown as she moves closer to Jensen. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to work out something to get him here earlier. I have a meeting and - ”
“Hey,” Jensen cuts in, waving a hand out. “No problem. It ain’t the majors or anything. He’ll still play.”
She twists her hands together while she smiles. “He’s just real excited about soccer. I didn’t think he would be, but he just jumped right in.”
Jensen smiles and nods. “He’s a good kid. He’s doing good.” And he means it, because Jensen’s seen a lot of kids float in and out of these pee wee leagues lacking so much and hardly paying attention to the ball. Yeah, Nathan could be better, but he tries and that’s what pleases Jensen most.
She nods and looks back at Nathan for a moment before facing Jensen. “Yeah. Gosh, I just … it’s hard. Kids these days.”
He laughs, knowing how many trouble children he’s seen and have had talk back to him. He’s grateful this is a good year with a great bunch of children. “Yeah, kids,” he nods.
*
At Wednesday practices, Jensen runs the kids through basic ball handling drills, has them do a few runs through kicking at the goal then sets them up for a quick scrimmage.
Nathan comes charging up, all but knocking Jensen out at the legs. He laughs down on the kid, holding him at the back before righting him. “Watch it, boy. I ain’t got rubber legs,” he laughs.
“Sorry, sorry,” he beams up at him. His chest is heaving and he’s practically panting. “I’m here. We ran all the way, I’m here.”
Jensen rests his hand at the top of Nathan’s head, trying to not be disgusted by the sweat already soaking his hair. He watches the two teams play each other and asks, “You run all the way from home?” with humor in his voice.
“No!” Nathan argues, pushing weak hands at Jensen’s leg. “From the parking lot. Duh.”
“How could I be so stupid?” Jensen shrugs down on him, big, dorky smile he’s sure. Because this kid always cracks him up with his enthusiasm.
“Can I play, huh?” Nathan asks, while jumping from one foot to the other.
He takes inventory of the field and directs Nathan to play forward alongside Junior, knowing it’s just scrimmage so it doesn’t matter much if there’s an extra player out there.
Nathan nods, seriously, and says, “Right-o.” Jensen watches as he pulls his hoodie off and turns to toss it behind him. “Hold this. I’m going in.”
The guy who’d come up with Nathan grabs it easily and grins. “Go get ‘em, peanut!”
Jensen just stares, because Lord Almighty, this guy is a good six-and-a-half feet of muscle and a bit more of tanned face, crooked smiles, and some rather unruly hair that’s begging to be grabbed. He’s shaken from the leer when Nathan calls out, haughty, as he jogs onto the field, “Dad!”
“Alrighty, tiger,” the guy calls back with a laugh.
He swallows, can’t do anything but swallow and stare back at the field. He crosses his arms tightly and crosses his eyes for a moment, willing the burn in his stomach to stop. Because that is definitely not the hottest guy he’s ever seen, and is most definitely Nathan’s dad. He can’t crush on him, cannot. His first year coaching in the league, he developed a tiny, little attraction to one of the girls’ fathers and he wound up all-but ignoring the guy, no matter how often he tried to talk to Jensen about Abby’s play.
At the end of the scrimmage, Nathan charges back and runs right into his dad’s arms with the same speed and push that he’d run into Jensen’s legs. But his dad easily swoops him up into the air, holding him high off the ground. “You did great, tiger!”
“Did you see?” Nathan shrieks as his dad pulls him down at his hip. He starts flapping his open palm against his dad’s shoulder, begging for a high five. “I almost scored a goal. I got real close. And Ryan blocked it, but what if he didn’t? I could’ve totally gotten it in!”
Jensen’s smiling, doesn’t even realize how dumb it is until Isabelle’s (single) mom taps him on the shoulder with a knowing smirk. “I see we have a new soccer dad,” she nearly sing-songs.
He turns towards her, running a hand over his head and down until he scratches at his neck. “Nathan’s dad,” he says matter-of-factly. His head tips to the side. “Something you need?”
The mom is barely hiding the fact that she’s checking out Nathan and his father as they walk away, the dad holding Nathan by the hands and swinging him forward and back as he takes long strides through the park. “Didn’t know Nathan had a dad.”
Jensen moves around to gather up the soccer balls and orange cones into his mesh bag. “I’m pretty sure everyone has a dad. Barring modern science.”
“Mmhmm,” she sounds out with a bright smile, and Jensen’s both horrified and comforted that someone else finds Nathan’s dad attractive. At least he’s not imagining things and overreaching in how good looking the guy is.
He’s left to himself when all the kids run off with their parents, but he can still see Nathan at the jungle gym, climbing up his father’s back and leaping to the monkey bars before his dad jumps up, grabs a bar himself and … literally monkeys around with him.
Jensen shakes his head, trying so hard to not care, to not see how playful they both are. But it’s beyond hard to ignore.
*
It gets worse that Saturday when Nathan’s dad shows up halfway through the game and settles in next to his mom. His voice is loud and happy, cheering out to his child so many times, no matter how close he is the ball, or how badly he shuffles the ball around the field, or even when he utterly whiffs at kicking the ball at the goal.
At the end of the game, Jensen gives his pep talk, trying to ignore Chrissy’s deathglares and simple, “We lost. Again.”
“Win or lose? You all played great,” Jensen smiles for them all, and they seem to forget she’s even said anything. “We got two goals, and you only let three through. So close!” He ruffles Ryan’s head when the kid looks to the ground, looking guilty for letting the last goal past him. “You’re all doing great. I’m so proud of you guys. And girls,” he smirks when Chrissy pouts. “Girls, too. You’re all getting better and faster. On Wednesday we’ll work on charging the net more, okay?” he asks with a wink and a little flick to Nathan’s shirt.
Nathan chuckles and beams. “Yeah!”
“Alright, guys … girls,” he tacks on again, but with a little less smile. “You know what now?”
“Snacks!” the children shout out and he says “Snacks, yeah,” less excited than them, and just smiling at them all running off to this week’s parents with the box of Capri Suns and Cheetos.
“Coach Ackles?” Jensen smirks with a tip of his head, and Nathan quickly amends. “Jensen? Jensen. I might be late again, but Dad promises we won’t be as bad.”
He pats Nathan’s shoulder and looks up to his mom and dad talking and nodding a bit before his mom perks up and calls, “Hey, sweetie. You bothering your coach?”
Before the conversation can go further, Jensen pats Nathan’s shoulder again. “That’s cool. But if it’s gonna be a weekly thing, let me know, okay?”
“Yeah! Thanks,” Nathan beams. He moves away but runs right back. “Jensen!”
“Yeah?”
He pokes a finger into Jensen’s shirt and Jensen looks down but doesn’t see the tiny fist knock up into his nose. He covers his face as Nathan giggles. “Gotcha!”
Jensen swipes down his face and tries to hide his blush. “Yeah, alright, buddy.”
He also tries to ignore how awesome Nathan’s dad’s smile is. Or how he laughs at the boy and hoists him up the air, over his head, and onto his shoulders like the boy were a feather.
*
On Wednesday, Nathan once again charges over and knocks into Jensen’s legs, laughing hysterically and red-faced. Jensen groans, because that impact was a bit more than before, but he easily grabs hold of the kid and sweeps him into the air for a long swoop across his body, landing on his other side. “Boy, you gotta watch yourself,” Jensen laughs.
Nathan giggles and pokes Jensen in the side. “I beat my dad all the way here.” He leans a little closer, pressing against Jensen’s thigh and pushing hands into his side. “He’s kinda slow.”
“Think it’s the long legs,” Jensen nods, patting Nathan and smirking. “Trips him up.”
Nathan nods and frowns, looking far beyond his years. “He is a giant beast.”
“Hey!” Nathan’s dad laughs while smacking at Nathan’s butt. “A little less picking on your father. Little more soccer.”
“Yes, sir!” Nathan calls out as he jogs onto the field to joins his team, running a long sequence of kicking balls into the net.
“Sorry for his energy. He’s a little wired about soccer.”
Jensen crosses his arms tight and only manages a tiny peek to Nathan’s dad. He nods then bites into his lips to stop the smile. “It is the world’s greatest sport.”
“So he says,” Nathan’s dad smiles and nods towards the field. “Starting to think you’re just brainwashing him.”
“When you get ‘em this young, it’s not hard,” Jensen smirks with a glance up at the guy. They’re both nodding and smiling and Jensen adds, “At least it isn’t golf. Little clubs aren’t little on the wallet.”
“Jesus, yes. Thank you,” he replies, smacking at Jensen’s upper arm with a smile. “Been trying to tell Sandy that forever. Kid can’t swing a bat and then she said football, but I argued over pads and helmets. How many moms you know beg for their children to knock heads with a bunch of kids?”
Jensen can’t stop smiling now, but he can turn to the field and not look at the guy. He just listens to him ramble on and on about the different sports they wanted to get Nathan into and how they readily agreed on soccer, figuring it was fairly low-contact and easy on the budget. It is cheap since kids only have to get shinguards and bottoms while the shirts and matching socks are provided by the park district. But to prove the rest of the point, Jensen grimaces as Nathan runs up to kick a ball at the net and completely misses it, landing on the ground.
“Oh, jeez,” his dad groans. Jensen laughs and looks over to the guy covering his face with both hands, barely peeking above his fingertips to see Nathan rolling over and slowly rising with a smile. Kid’s always smiling. “That’s my kid.”
“Yeah, it is,” Jensen chuckles while looking down to the ground and shuffling his feet.
“My kid can’t play."
He swallows and tries to not laugh at how pathetic the guy’s voice is. “He can play fine.”
“Nathan’s Charlie Brown. He’s never gonna kick that football.”
Jensen smirks and sounds out with proper accents, “Futbol.”
He manages to ignore the amused grin long enough to hand out netted jerseys and set the kids into two teams to scrimmage. But it’s not enough time to make him forget about the guy and how much they’d been joking around, how easy it was. “So, you one of those coaches who tells kids when they suck, or you one of the ones who just smiles and hugs and gets all touchy feely about everyone playing?”
With one eyebrow up high, he says flat, “I’m pretty sure touchy feely with the kids is illegal.”
“Right,” he laughs. “Yeah.” There’s a pause that’s uncomfortable in how long it lasts compared to how much the guy'd been chattering. Until he turns to Jensen and holds a hand out. “I’m Jared, by the way.”
Jensen nods, looks at the hand, and against his better judgment, shakes it. “Jensen.”
“Coach Jensen, alright.”
He bristles and pulls his hand away, so not registering how warm the palm had been or how firm the hold was. “Just Jensen’s fine.”
“Just Jensen, alright,” he smirks and nods, and Jensen’s doing his best to not register that either.
*
Jensen’s nearly screaming, he’s getting so excited and he’s moving fast down the sidelines. “Nathan! Go Nathan! C’mon! Keep going!”
Seconds later, Nathan kicks lamely at the ball and a few green shirts get in the way but he keeps right on going. He’s shuffling forward, pushing the ball closer and closer until he finally cocks his leg back and smacks the crap out of the ball, forcing it between defenders and into the net with a swoosh.
He’s jumping up, raising his hands and yelling, and it doesn’t even register how ridiculous it is until he realizes he’s reacting like all the kids on the field are, so he stops. He clears his throat and claps with a low voice. “Alright! Good job, Nathan! Let’s get back on defense.”
When the game is over, he watches Nathan, sees him sprinting off the field and right into his father’s arms, which heave him right up into a crushing hug. “Daddy! Did you see? I scored!”
“You did, peanut,” Jared beams, popping Nathan up and down in his arms. “You scored, baby!”
“And we won. It was seven to two. We had the seven and they had the two!”
Jensen laughs, so much louder than he thought he would. It catches their attention and Nathan’s still beaming while Jared’s smiling gently and Nathan’s mom (whose name is Sandy, as Jared let out during all his rambling at practice), is eyeing him with a crooked smile. He just waves and smiles. “He did great.”
Sandy moves closer to the boy, soothing a hand over his back. “We’re so proud of you, baby. You did so good!”
He can’t stop watching the scene. How perfect they all look together, and happy. So happy. All bright smiles, and it looks like Jared’s got wet eyes as he swipes a hand over Nathan’s hair, pushing it off his forehead before he leans in to kiss at his temple.
Jensen swallows and turns immediately. “I am so screwed,” he mutters as he moves to his things.
*
“We’re early!”
Jensen laughs at Nathan’s cry as he and his dad show up just minutes before practice starts. “That you are, buddy.” He pats Nathan’s back and calls out to everyone. “Alright, two laps around the field, then some dribbling around the cones!”
“Jensen?”
He turns to Chrissy’s firm voice. “Yes, Chrissy?”
“We won last week.”
There’s a nod and a hidden smile, but Jensen says firmly, “That we did.”
She eyes him for a few seconds and then says, “You think we’ll win this week?”
He smirks and pats her back. “I think we’ll do okay. Go on, join the team.”
“Okay? Man, you’ve got great confidence.”
Jensen smirks again, nodding at Jared. “Hey, Jared,” he says, instead of something stupid like wow, you’re insanely hot in that sweater or please tell me you’re on the verge of a gay crisis and gonna leave your wife?. Yeah, Jensen’s been having some manic dreams lately.
“Just Jensen,” he nods back.
He chuckles at the name. There’s a slow burn in his belly and his mouth feels tight as he fights more smiles. So, he decides today would be a good day for more interactive coaching and jogs out to the center of the field.
*
Saturday, the team wins 3-2 on the cusp of another late-in-the-game, if-it-weren’t-so-cute-it’d-be-pathetic goal from Nathan. Jensen does his best to ignore how insanely happy Nathan is as he runs into Jared’s arms, screeching over and over about how awesome this game was and how he scored the winning goal.
His chest burns and feels tight, seeing all the elation there, but he has to ignore it. Has to.
“Jensen?”
He looks down to Chrissy and is actually happy to see her serious little face. “Yes?”
“We won today.”
“Yes, we did,” he nods then eyes her. She’s still awfully serious. “Are you not happy that we did?”
“You said we’d do okay.”
Jensen looks up and around for her parents but all he sees are Jared and Nathan smiling at him. He works his mouth for a second before turning back to Chrissy. “Yes, and we did.”
“No, we didn’t.” His eyebrows go high and he’s startled when she suddenly grins and shrieks, “We did awesome!”
His smile feels more scared than happy, but he goes with it. “Yeah, Chrissy, you’re right. We did awesome.”
She shrieks more as she half-runs, half-bounces over to her parents.
“Think she’s in beginning stages bi-polar?”
Jensen turns to Jared, who’s Nathan-less and smiling. He looks around for the boy and spots him retrieving his snacks. His voice is mock-serious. “Yeah, I don’t want to label her.”
“She scares you doesn’t she?”
“Absolutely.”
Jared laughs, patting a hand at Jensen’s back. “Say, Nathan and I are getting ice cream. Big goal,” he adds with wide eyes and a nod.
“Yes, I know. I saw it,” he nods right back. “Would like to take credit for it, really.”
He laughs again. “You wanna join us?”
Jensen sobers and stares, no longer able to ignore the wide smile or the bright eyes of the man before him. He swallows, so knowing he should just say no, because there’s no way this is what he thinks it is. Jared is the only father who shows up to practice, the only parent who isn’t glued to a blackberry when the scores don’t count. He’s an active father, and interested in Nathan and is just getting to know the adults in his life and most of all, Jensen’s mind rambles on, he’s married.
“Do you have an aversion to dairy products? I do believe they have Icees there, too.”
He snaps out of it and gives a small smile, ready to say no, thanks when Nathan runs over, bouncing right off of Jared’s legs with a little “umph,” and they’re all laughing. “We going, dad? I want hot fudge and sprinkles!”
“Okay, peanut,” he says fondly, combing through Nathan’s hair. “Just trying to convince your coach to join us.”
Nathan’s eyes light up like the sun and he’s jumping up and down, grabbing onto Jensen’s hand. “Oh, my God! Yes, yes! You have to come! They have rainbow sprinkles and waffle cones dipped in more chocolate!”
Jensen laughs and tugs on Nathan’s hands then looks up to Jared. “I’m not so sure you should add sugar to this.”
Jared’s head tips a little and his smile is small. “He’ll be fine. You should come.”
Nathan pulls on Jensen’s hands some more and his heart warms at the attention, at the tiny hands wrapping around his fingers and he smiles gently at the boy. “Think they got Snickers?”
His face lights up again. “Oh, my gawd! They have a gazillion pounds of it!”
Part Two