#championing my nrl player james potter agenda

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Matters Most

a micro for @jilymicrofics using March prompt 2: infatuated. Words: 999

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James had been infatuated with the sport since – well, at least the age of two, given the photograph commemorating his birthday party saw him in a jersey that fell to his knees, holding a football bigger than his head.

From then, there had never been anything else. Even his best mates – the groomsmen at his wedding, the godfather of his son, Harry – had been recruited from the very first team he’d played for, in the under-six division. The most difficult part of the game had been remembering which direction they were running in, and not dropping the ball in favour of watching passing seagulls.  Tonight was the culmination of the past nineteen years. His life had been dedicated to footy since he could kind-of toss a footy, and in a matter of hours, he would run out in front of eighty-thousand people to represent his state. Despite the rigours of training, the last few days had proven sleepless. What if he screwed it all up? He was good, of course – good enough to be picked – but he felt like all the attention would be on him. His coach, his teammates, his enemies, the audience – he was fresh meat, and they’d all be eagle-eyed to watch him fumble a pass or knock the ball on. He had to be unimpeachable. Nineteen years of devoted focus needed to pay off.

In all that time, there had only been one blip on the radar. She pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Well, two, actually. The first looped her hands over his shoulders and fixed her green gaze upon him, a smile glimmering at the corners of her lips. Sirius – the aforementioned forever teammate and godfather – bounced the second in his arms on the other side of the maroon-drenched room. They weren’t quite at the point of the changing room itself, where the anxiety would boil into insurmountable adrenaline.

“We’re going to get those nasty Blues and beat them bloody,” Sirius cooed. “Yes, we’re going to make sure all of them end up on the green whistle. Yes, we are! Yes we are!” Harry was ten months old and didn’t appear to have the faintest clue what Sirius was on about, but James couldn’t hold that against him, really.

“We’ll make sure Harry takes some of those rock and water classes or something, keep him nice and peaceful,” Lily said, following James’s line-of-sight with a twisting grin. “No footy for him.” James’s mouth dropped open at the jest. Lily’s nose wrinkled as she laughed. He could’ve kissed her. His hands laid upon her waist.

“Evans,” he said hoarsely.

“Potter,” she corrected, eyes flashing mischievously. “All right, all right. That was too far. We’ll just put him in Aussie Rules.”

James flinched. “Don’t you even say that word.”

“He can be a – lion. Or a sun.”

“God.” James’s head swum. “I’d rather him play for New South Wales, if it came to it.”

“Sacrilege!”

“Better than air-jumpy pirouette circle-field rubbish.”

“Next time you say that, I’m dumping you in Melbourne.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“Only when I’m breathing.”

Lily pressed her lips against his, and James shut his eyes, losing himself in her warmth. The tension knotted in his neck and through his back melted away. His childhood dream loomed on the horizon, growing nearer with every tick of the clock, but win or lose, tonight he would go home to Lily and Harry. 

Lily leaned back, one hand cupping his face. Her dark red hair rather matched his shirt. His hand closed over hers. Their foreheads met. Their lungs worked in sync. She wrapped her other rm around his neck, and he held her close. The rest of the world fell away. It was just James and Lily, as had always been, since that fateful night when they’d been seventeen. The erratic race of his pulse slowed. She was crystalline water and sunny skies. Summer, as the winter cold crept into the stadium, day falling to night. The camera crews had been lurking for hours. Fans hovered outside, waving flags or howling threats.

“I only ask one thing of you tonight,” Lily whispered, her words soft flutters on his lips.

“Anything.” He squinted one eye. “Well, anything but putting Harry in AFL.”

She snorted. “Just – it’s just a game.” James opened his mouth to argue. Lily raised her eyebrows sternly. “It is. I know it’s your first State of Origin, and you want it to be perfect, and to prove yourself – I know. I know how important it is. But at the end of it, it’s just another game of footy. Trust yourself. You’ve played against every one of these blokes before. They’ve been in different jerseys, but they’re the same players. Have tickets on yourself.”

It was James’s turn to arch his eyebrows. “I thought I was too cocky,” he whispered. Lily rolled her eyes.

“It goes without saying – pass the ball, for God’s sake.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t get in your head about it. You deserve your spot on the team, but you’re not the only person on the team. Unless you pass it to Sirius’s bloody brother at the ten-metre line and he immediately throws himself into a try, the fate of the game isn’t on you.”

James took a deep breath. “I know.”

She disentangled herself from him for a moment, leaving his exposed and afraid as the room swirled around him, full of players and families and overexcited children and teary fathers. But in a moment she returned, Sirius behind her, complaining of kidnapping.

“Quiet,” Lily said briskly. “A Current Affair will hear you.”

Harry, now safe in her arms, reached for James. Their faces lit in twinned amazement. Harry’s tiny features beamed. James’s heart swelled three sizes. This was what mattered.

“Harry,” he choked, eyes dampening. He pulled his wife and son into a hug. They were the biggest victory of his life.

“We love you,” Lily said. “Now go smash them.”