#Stu plays football (eh?)

[mbav3rdseason]

Okay everyone, hear me out.

Billy in the school’s marching band 👀

[tothedarkdarkseas]

What are your jock!Stu headcanons? Or just any additional headcanons regarding Stu's interest in sports?

(Once again, I have to apologize for the delay on this! I had extra work this week and have been feeling very burned out, just a no-good brain.) Behind a cut for length!

Oh gosh, I’d like to say I have a wealth of sporty Stu headcanons because The Absolute Lad is so dear to my heart, but there’s a fundamental gap in my knowledge called “I don’t know anything about sports, or England, or how sports worked in English schools, or much of anything, really.” While I do have impressions about Stu, in all likelihood they would not be very true-to-life! And while I understand fandom is for fun and it’s not the end of the world to be inaccurate... I don’t love it, haha. So I’m glad to be corrected or given more information on unprofessional school-age football and how/where it would’ve been played in Stu’s era.

I do think Stu played football and had aspirations of being a footballer in his youth, but I also think his history and knowledge of the sport is only really impressive when compared to Murdoc-- I don’t think he played in much of an “official” capacity, and while he was an entirely decent player, he was not as good as he remembers himself. It’s possible he was in a club with his mates at one point, and I am personally fond of the idea of that if only so he’d get his own kit and all, but I can’t speak to the actual realistic odds based on his hometown and age or his undisciplined, airy personality. This is something I’ve tried to research to at least get a few basic facts, but it can also be hard to get an accurate grip on cultural norms. I also feel sort of... undecided if Stu would have devoted a significant amount of his life after childhood to playing sports, but I certainly think he played a bit of kickabout for fun.

He likes Crawley Town because there’s still something to be said for hometown pride, but he’s a Chelsea loyalist because Stu likes to pick a winner; for the same reason, he admires Beckham and fancies himself his peer. (I really think Stu’s sustained interest in both football and Chelsea would have slightly waned if Beckham did not represent this aspirational crossover between athlete and bonafide celebrity, one who gets to shag a Spice Girl.) None of this is to say Stu’s disingenuous, he’s absolutely not! I do think Stu’s love of football comes from an earnest place, and while his own career makes following closely challenging, he always feels very... centered, very rooted in the Stuart Pot he used to be when he can come home again and catch up in a pub. Stu likes the feeling of being a Chelsea fan, he likes it as an identifier. He wants to record a football anthem but he’s had trouble getting the band on board (in a fair world this would’ve already happened as a solo-song like Sleeping Powder but I reckon Damon’s, eh, a somewhat more passive fan than Stu’s implied to be.)  He dislikes Man U (though his mate loved them), Arsenal and Leeds, but he’s willing to make peace with Leeds when pressed.

And again, I do recognize all these opinions are rather basic because I have such shallow knowledge, but as a last-ditch excuse, I actually think Stu’s commitment to full-on football expertise is also more shallow than his non-footie bandmates realize (for instance, I think everyone knows that liking Beckham shows his age and makes him look like a tool, but Stu reckons that’s jealousy for him and his mate Dave, pure and simple.) “Shallow” might sound like a harsh word or seem at ends with this being a fixation of Stuart’s, but I think Stu gets sort of... shallow-deep on his interests, if that makes sense to anyone but me.

Footie!Stu is really where the heart of it lies-- I can’t imagine Stu having strong interest in posher sports like cricket or tennis, and I don’t think he has any interest in American football either. If there’s one American sport that Stu is partially on board with it’s basketball, but this has absolutely nothing to do with the game itself and is entirely reliant on basketball truly being the celebrity sport. It is a statement of status to be court-side for the Lakers! Having said that, I don’t actually think Stu quite has that status. He may have attended a game as a guest while the band was living stateside (he did date a Kardashian, after all, or it could’ve been a bit of record label swag) but it’s by no means a regular occurrence, and he doesn’t ever watch the games on television.

[elapsed-spiral]

Superfast Ficlet: Can I Kick It? (2Doc PWP)

Title: Can I Kick It? 

Pairing: 2Doc

Rating: Explicit

Summary: “Come down and play with your balls?”

Warnings: Written while hopped up on cold medicine. Basically a PWP ficlet about football written by someone with zero interest in football (but cunningly written from the POV of a character who also knows absolutely nothing about football). Mild sexism but for Sexy Reasons. Barely self betaed.

Murdoc wakes to thumping sounds. It takes him a second to appreciate the thumping is coming from outside and not his whiskey battered brain. He pulls himself out of bed, shoves his curtains open and looks down. Directly under his bedroom window, one floor down, 2D is kicking a football against the wall of Wobble Street's kitchen.

More than that: 2D is kicking a football against the wall of Wobble Street's kitchen in full football kit. The red and white striped ensemble looks one size too small and dated in a way that suggests it belonged to a much younger Stuart. Panning down further, Murdoc sees that he's even sporting bright red socks and daft studded boots. 2D clearly senses he's being watched, traps the ball under his foot and glances up. Murdoc opens his window and sticks his head out.

“Morning,” Murdoc offers.

“It's three in the afternoon.”

“Not sure you're in a position to be a smart arse dressed like that.”

“I look good,” 2D says with an easy shrug.

“More to the point, why are you dressed like that?”

“My mum was having a clear out, sent me some of my old stuff.” 2D starts passing the ball back and forth between his feet. “It's been forever since I had a kickabout.”

“You woke me up.”

2D goes back to kicking the ball against the wall.

“It's three in the afternoon.” He punctuates the words with strikes. “No sympathy.”

Murdoc carries on leaning out the window, watching him. 2D returns the look, smiling in a self-satisfied way.

“Come down.”

“Come down and play with your balls?”

“Just the one.”

“Not last time I checked.”

2D's smile threatens to falter. He casts quick looks at the six foot fences either side of the garden.

“The neighbours'll complain if you keep it up.”

“We're getting evicted anyway,” Murdoc dismisses. “Might as well be for over-loud conversations about your testicles.”

“Just come down and shut your gob for once.”

Murdoc throws on a t-shirt, jeans and boots and lets himself out the back. The ball goes sailing by his feet as he steps outside and 2D tuts in disappointment.

“How'd you miss that?”

“I didn't miss it. I'm not playing.”

2D strides past him, stops the ball with one foot then passes it back and forth as he comes to stand directly in front of Murdoc.

“When'd you last play?”

Murdoc pretends to consider the question.

“Er, never.”

2D's eyebrows fly up.

“Never?”

“That's what I said.”

“How've you never played football? That's ridiculous.”

Murdoc gestures to 2D's football kit silently. 2D idly starts playing keepie uppie, bouncing the ball on his thigh.

“I told you already, I look good.” He tries to pass the ball over his head to balance between his shoulder blades but it rolls away. He chases it with a grumble of “never could do that”.

“If that's everything, I'll be going back in.”

“Play wimme.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Murdoc asks, hand on the door handle. 2D gives him a slow, easy smile.

“Play and you'll find out.”

Reluctantly, Murdoc trudges over. 2D leads the way onto the scrubby grass beyond the patio.

“We don't have goals or anything,” Murdoc points out. 2D glances around.

“If you can kick it between that plant pot.” He jabs with a finger. “And that bottle of Psycho Jerry's, you've scored.” He turns to look over Murdoc's shoulder. “If I can get it between that old tyre and that.” He squints. “Thong, I've scored. Whose is that anyway?”

Murdoc casts a glance at it.

“S'not silk, so it's not mine.” 2D looks wrong-footed by his answer.

“We need a spring clean, this place's disgusting.”

“Nowt compared with Kong, you're getting too prissy,” Murdoc chastises. He gives the football badge on 2D's shirt a prompting tap. “Let's get this over with.”

2D starts kicking the ball, passing it from foot to foot. He easily sidesteps Murdoc, who mostly just watches him go. He pulls his leg back and strikes the ball with a completely unnecessary level of force, sending it sailing between the “goalposts” and bouncing off the wall of Wobble Street.

“You're paying if you put a window through.”

“Are you even trying?” 2D asks, picking up the ball and throwing it back to Murdoc. Murdoc traps it awkwardly under one Cuban heel. “You're not really wearing the right footwear for this.”

“Weird that.” Murdoc experimentally taps the ball forward. It mostly goes in the direction he intended but sure enough, 2D stops it, tears away and powers it between the tyre and thong once again. 2D spots something in Murdoc's expression and gives him a smug smirk as he throws the ball back at his feet.

“Always wanted to be a footballer. I nearly got into Pease Pottage under sixteens.”

Despite his total lack of football knowledge, Murdoc senses how dubious 2D’s bragging rights are. Regardless, it's obvious that 2D can play decently: he steals the ball time and again, controlling it effortlessly before taking powerful kicks that have his ridiculously long legs up by his hips.

“Best footballer outta my mates by a long shot. Just a bit slow.”

“What, when you play football or generally speaking?” Murdoc asks. 2D gives him an unimpressed look as he sneaks the ball out from under him again. Murdoc makes a grab for the back of 2D's shirt in his effort to knock the ball away and nearly trips himself in the process. 2D whips around to give Murdoc a playful shove and Murdoc can feel the heat radiating off him, smells the sour tang of sweat. He makes no effort to hide his hungry stare.

“You'll get booked for grabbing my shirt,” 2D warns, getting the ball back but staying close to Murdoc. Murdoc tries to swipe it at with his foot but 2D spins away with a pleased grin. He kicks, scores, and jogs off to retrieve the ball and throw it back.

“Are you really surprised I play dirty?”

2D steals the ball again rather than answer. Matters are made easier still since Murdoc is too distracted by the slightly stiff way 2D's moving to try and tackle him.

“Walking a bit funny there Stu,” Murdoc calls after him and 2D looks back over his shoulder, panting slightly from the exertion.

“Yeah, wonder why.”

“You always get a stiffy when you play?”

2D shoots glances at the neighbouring houses before looking back at Murdoc.

“No, must be something about this particular fixture.”

“Must be,” Murdoc agrees with a toothy grin. 2D kicks the ball back over and Murdoc attempts to tackle him again before, in a flash of inspiration, dropping flat on his back on the ground instead. 2D looks momentarily alarmed before spotting the way Murdoc drapes his arms above his head with a self-congratulatory smile.

“You alright Drogba?”

“I assume I'm meant to know who that is.”

“Yeah,” 2D agrees. He stands, a foot either side of Murdoc's prone body and Murdoc looks up at him eagerly. “If you were a proper man you'd know.”

Murdoc lets out an appreciative noise at the words. 2D waits a moment longer before getting down on the grass and settling between Murdoc's spread and bracketing legs. He plants a hand either side of Murdoc's head and leans down to kiss him hard. Murdoc leaves his arms above his head and lets himself be kissed, panting against 2D's mouth. After they break apart, he watches how 2D works down his shorts and shoves up his shirt.

“This kit’s out of production,” 2D explains, voice croaky with want. “M'not getting spunk on it.”

“Travesty though that'd be.”

2D gives him an unimpressed look before lining up their crotches. Murdoc feels himself get uncomfortably hard at the sight of 2D's cock, clearly outlined in his briefs by precome. 2D rolls his hips slowly against Murdoc's bulging jeans and Murdoc lets his head loll back as he groans. 2D leans forward and mouths at his neck, making Murdoc's head swim with the smell of sweat. He grips at the grass and soil as 2D ruts against him, breathing in sharp, hissed breaths.

“You wearing a thong today?” 2D gasps out. Murdoc swallows hard, only managing a shake of his head. “Shoulda done. I made an effort, you should too.”

Murdoc meets 2D’s eye then glances down, gaze roving over the barely-there muscles of 2D's stomach as he grinds down against him. 2D watches him watching, smiling with obvious satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eye, Murdoc is convinced he sees a neighbouring house's net curtain twitch. The thought is enough to send him over the edge and he comes, head thrown back with a pitiful whine. 2D quickly follows as he watches Murdoc coming apart underneath him. He joins Murdoc in lying on the grass afterwards, shirt still hiked and shorts still down, white pants practically sheer with come. Murdoc takes as many mental images as his orgasm addled brain will allow.

“Aren't you gonna congratulate me on my win?” 2D asks hoarsely, wiping one large hand over his sweaty forehead, leaving his hair standing on end. When Murdoc looks blank, 2D elaborates. “The football, not the sex.”

“Was gonna say. I think the sex was very Hot Chocolate,” Murdoc says breathlessly. It's 2D's turn to look nonplussed. ““Everyone's a winner, baby”.” Murdoc lifts one leaden arm to jab at the neighbour's window. “Including the perves at 210.”

2D blanches, hands going to cover his crotch.

“You're kidding?”

“Might've imagined it,” Murdoc shrugs. “Nevermind: we're either getting evicted or we're getting a threesome, golden balls.”

2D gives him a surprised grin.

“Was that a football joke?”

“Don't get used to it.”

Murdoc allows himself a long and blatant study of 2D as his breathing goes back to normal. 2D stretches out with a smile. 

“So you wanted to be a footballer when you were a kid eh?”

“Yeah.”

“How about a fireman?” Murdoc asks with a hopeful leer.