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1.
Jude had maybe thirty seconds of warning before his doorbell rang.
One minute he was flat on his back on the sofa with Erling's weight pressing him into the cushions, both of them half-undressed, Erling's mouth hot against his throat right over his scent gland. The next, the doorbell was going off through the whole flat.
"Shit." Jude shoved at Erling's chest so hard he nearly rolled him onto the floor. "Shit, shit, shit—"
"Who is—"
"Closet. Now."
"I'm not hiding in a closet—"
"NOW, Erling."
The bell rang again. Jude grabbed Erling's shirt off the floor and threw it at his head, then scrambled for his own jeans, which were, obviously, on the other side of the room. Erling, to his credit, was already moving toward the hall closet, looking deeply offended about it but moving nonetheless.
Jude yanked his jeans on (no pants, no time) and tried to make his hair look like he hadn't just had a six-foot-something alpha's mouth on his neck.
He opened the door to find Jobe standing there, hands in his pockets, grinning.
"Alright. You still got my boots from training? Coach is doing my head in about them."
"Oh, yeah. Course." Jude's voice came out an octave too high. He cleared his throat. "The boots. Yep."
Jobe's grin faltered. "You good? You look like you ran here from Birmingham."
"I'm great! Never better. Was just, er. Working out."
"In jeans?"
Jude looked down. Right. "Trying new things."
Jobe took a step forward, and Jude automatically shifted to block him, which only made it worse.
"Why are you acting like this?" Jobe was craning to look past him now. "You're being so weird right now."
"Nothing's going on!" Jude laughed, way too loud, and stepped aside, immediately regretting it as Jobe wandered into the living room, took in the state of the sofa cushions on the floor, the throw blanket half strangling a lamp.
"Were you... having a nap?"
"Massive nap. Best nap of my life, actually."
That was when the hallway closet let out a muffled thump and a barely audible squeak.
Jobe froze. "What the fuck was that?"
"What was what?" Jude's heart was trying to escape his body through his ribs.
"That. It sounded like—" Jobe started for the hallway.
"Mouse," Jude blurted. "It's a mouse."
Jobe turned around slowly. "You have mice."
"One. Just the one. Probably."
"And you're just — cool with that? Where's your broom, we're killing it—"
"NO," Jude said, too fast, too loud, and Jobe actually flinched. "I mean — it's fine. He's my pet mouse."
There was a long, devastating silence.
"Your pet mouse."
"Yeah. Called, um…Stuart Little."
"You have a pet mouse called Stuart Little."
"Yep."
"Jude, what the hell-"
"The boots!" Jude grabbed his brother's arm and steered him, forcibly, toward the front door. "I'll drop them round tonight, yeah? Great catch up, love you, bye—"
"Are you having a stroke?"
"Nope! Just knackered, go on then." He all but shoved Jobe out onto the landing and shut the door before Jobe could get another word out, then slumped against it, breathing like he'd just done a fitness test.
He waited until he heard Jobe's car pull off before shuffling to the closet.
Erling was sitting on the floor between winter coats and the hoover, looking mutinous.
"Never thought I'd end up back in the closet," he said, deadpan, in his easy, faintly-accented English that years in the country had never quite sanded down.
Jude burst out laughing and couldn't stop. He was still laughing when he hauled Erling up by the shirt and kissed him. "I'm so sorry, that was—"
"Terrifying? Humiliating?"
"I was going to say hilarious, but sure, those too."
Erling glared at him, mouth twitching. "Stuart Little, you are the worst liar I have ever met."
"He believed it!"
"He thinks you keep mice as a pet."
Jude grinned and pulled him back in by the belt loops. "Worth it, to keep you a secret a little longer."
Erling's expression softened into something warmer, and he kissed Jude slow and proper this time. "Next time," he murmured against his mouth, "we will do this at mine."
2.
"Who are you texting?"
Jude nearly dropped his phone off their parents’ living room sofa. He was meant to be resting before the away match, lying there grinning at his screen while Jobe was supposedly watching a scouting report on his laptop across the room.
"No one," Jude said, automatically, which was possibly the single worst answer available.
Jobe looked up with a shit-eating grin. "Is it the girl from the club night?"
"What girl?"
"OH MY GOD, IT'S HER." Jobe launched himself off his own bed.
"Get off—" Jude rolled away, clutching the phone to his chest, and they wrestled like actual children for a solid thirty seconds before Jobe, bigger, heavier, entirely unfair got a hand on it.
Jude's stomach dropped through the floor.
"Erla?" Jobe read out loud. "Her name's Erla? That's kind of pretty. And she says—" His eyes went wide. His mouth fell open. "'Can't wait to have you in my mouth tomorrow'?! Jude."
Jude snatched the phone back so fast he nearly fumbled it, face on fire. "Shut up."
"I didn't know you had it in you, mate!"
If Jobe had scrolled up two seconds earlier he'd have seen the photo Erling had sent twenty minutes before that, all lean muscle and that stupid smirk and Jude would genuinely be having a medical event right now.
"She's… we're just — shut up, Jobe."
Jobe was still cracking up. "I'm telling Mum. She's going to lose it. 'Can't wait to have you in my mouth' Christ, Jude."
"You tell Mum and I'm telling everyone about the time you cried during the club Christmas panto."
"Low blow." But Jobe was grinning. "Genuinely though. She sounds like someone you needed."
"She is," Jude said, throat tight around the lie. "Yeah."
Later, once Jobe had finally shut up and gone back to his laptop, Jude texted Erling: you nearly got me killed
The reply came back instantly: worth it 😈
3.
Jude should've known something was up the second his mum asked him to help with dinner while his dad and Jobe were out on the terrace arguing about the transfer window.
"So," his mum said, chopping something with the kind of precision that made Jude nervous. "Jobe tells me you're seeing someone."
Jude nearly dropped the pan. "He said what."
"An Erla." She glanced over, smiling in that way that meant she already knew more than she was letting on. "He's very pleased about it."
"I'm going to end him."
"He's happy you're happy, love. We all are." A pause. "Although."
"Although?"
"It's just interesting you haven't mentioned her once. You usually tell me everything."
Jude focused very hard on the tap. "It's early. Being careful, that's all."
"Mm." His mother did not sound remotely convinced. "You know you can tell us anything, don't you? No matter what."
Jude's throat tightened a little. He knew she meant it. But the thought of actually saying it -I'm dating to Erling Haaland, I've been hiding it for months- made his knees go weak in a bad way.
"I know," he managed.
His phone rang in his pocket. Erla calling. He'd told Erling half seven and completely forgotten.
"Sorry, I should-"
"Go on, take it!" His mum waved him toward the hall, delighted. "Let the girl hear your voice."
Jude fled and answered, low. "Can I call you back."
"Why," Erling said, warm and lazy down the line. "You busy?"
"I'm at my parents'."
"Ah, shit, I forgot." A beat. "What are you wearing?"
"Erling."
"What? It’s an innocent question."
"You are the least innocent man alive."
"That’s fair. So,when are you coming to see me? I miss—"
Jude hung up before he could finish that sentence, ears burning, and turned round to find Jobe lounging in the hallway, arms crossed, entirely too smug.
"That was quick."
"She was just saying hi."
"Sure. Why do you look like you're about to combust."
"I don't."
"You're redder than the away kit."
His mum called from the kitchen "Jude, go set the table" and Jude all but sprinted away from his brother's face. His phone buzzed on the way.
Erling: sorry. couldn't help myself.
Erling: you're cute when you're flustered
Erling: but i do miss you. come see me soon?
Jude's whole face went soft and stupid, and he only just managed to lock the screen before turning around straight into Jobe, who'd followed him into the kitchen and was watching him with an unusually thoughtful expression.
"What," Jude said, defensive.
"Nothing." But Jobe's eyes had gone soft. "You just look happy. Properly happy."
"I am."
"Good." Jobe smiled, but there was something searching underneath it, and Jude's stomach twisted with guilt and hope in equal measure.
His mum saved him, shoving a bowl into his hands. "Stop interrogating your brother and put these away."
Jude had never been so grateful for his own mother in his life.
4.
They had an away fixture in London and Jude was losing his mind about it.
"We should go out after," Jobe said as they crossed the hotel lobby. "Family bonding. That bar by the ground."
"Can't, I’m seeing Erla."
Jobe lit up. "Oh, mate, actually? We should finally meet her!"
Jude's stomach dropped through the marble floor. "No. Absolutely not."
"Why not, you've been seeing her for months, we should at least say hello-"
"She's shy."
"I call bullshit."
"Can you please forget about that?"
"Never. It's burned in my memory forever." Jobe grinned. "I'll be normal, I promise."
Jude was scrambling for an excuse when his phone rang. Erla calling. He answered without thinking. "Hey."
"Love." Erling's voice went low and warm, the pet name doing something unfair to Jude's heart. "You here?"
"Just got in."
"Good. Come over after, I have a surprise for you."
Jude's mouth went dry. "What kind of surprise?"
"The undressed kind."
"Jesus, Erling." Jude turned away from Jobe, who was absolutely eavesdropping.
"What, it’s a surprise, no? Are you not surprised?"
"I can't talk right now."
"Because your brother is there?" Erling's voice went teasing. "Tell him I say hi."
"Hanging up."
"Wait! Seriously. Come over, I missed you."
His chest ached. "I know. Miss you too."
A quiet exhale down the line. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, see you tonight."
He hung up to find Jobe watching him with an expression he couldn't place.
"What."
"Nothing, you really like her, huh."
"Yeah I do."
"Good. I’m happy for you." Jobe clapped his shoulder. "But you can't hide her forever, mate."
If only you knew, Jude thought.
5.
Jude was in the cereal aisle debating granola brands when a voice behind him made his blood turn to ice.
"Jude! Small world!"
He turned to find Jobe pushing a trolley full of what looked like supplies for a small nation, having apparently forgotten to mention their mum was hosting a barbecue that weekend.
"Hey!" that was too cheerful, he cringed. "Just shopping, you know."
"Clearly." Jobe grinned, then his eyes landed on Jude's own trolley, and his face changed completely. "Mate…What is this?"
Jude looked down. It was not a normal trolley. Two bottles of very expensive Norwegian aquavit, a block of brown cheese the size of a brick, a tin of pickled herring, flatbread, and inexplicably a box of Coco Pops, because Erling had seen the advert and developed an obsession.
"Just... stuff," Jude said, which was not an answer.
"You have pickled herring. You hate fish. You full-on gagged when Mum did salmon at Christmas."
"Expanding my palate."
"And this" Jobe picked up a bottle, squinting at the label. "Aquavit? Since when do you drink aquavit? This is like ninety quid a bottle, why d'you have two?"
"It was on offer."
"It was absolutely not on offer." Jobe crossed his arms. "What's going on? Is there a party I wasn't invited to? I'm actually hurt."
"No party. Erla just likes Norwegian food."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Jobe's eyebrows shot up.
"Your Erla... likes Norwegian food."
"Yep."
"So this is all for" Jobe gestured at the trolley, "—her."
"She's coming to stay this weekend."
"Oh, nice! We should—wait." Jobe's eyes narrowed. "Is she Norwegian?"
"No, she just likes the cuisine."
"Is that brunost?"
"She's very into authentic experiences."
A woman with a trolley tried to squeeze past and they both shuffled aside, but Jobe wasn't finished.
"You know what's mad," he said, thoughtfully.
"What," Jude said, dreading it.
"Your best friend Haaland's Norwegian."
Jude's heart stopped. "So?"
"So you've been weirdly obsessed with him for years. Watching every match, quoting his stats at me unprompted, and now you're buying his whole national cuisine for a woman I've never met." Jobe air-quoted. "You don't think that's a bit strange?"
"Loads of people like Norwegian food!"
"Name one."
Jude opened his mouth then closed it. "I can't think of anyone right now, that doesn't mean-"
"And another thing," Jobe went on, clearly enjoying this far too much, "you never let me meet her. Always an excuse,what if-" he gasped, delighted with himself, "what if Erla isn't real? What if you made her up because you're actually obsessed with Haaland?"
"That's insane! Why would I be obsessed with Erling??"
"I don't know, you tell me! You've got a Google alert for his name, don't think I didn't see your phone go off at dinner saying 'Erling Haaland' right there on the lock screen!"
"I need to know what the opposition's doing!"
"You don't have alerts for anyone else in the league!"
"Look," Jude said, desperate, "Erla's real, alright, and she just happens to like Norwegian food, that's genuinely the whole story."
Jobe studied him for a long, suspicious beat, then shrugged. "If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Cool. So I'll meet her this weekend, then. Since she's staying."
"She's shy."
"Jude."
"Very shy!"
His phone buzzed.
Erling: did you get the herring. the good jar, not the supermarket own brand
Jude: yes. also nearly got caught by Jobe
Erling: ???
Jude: he saw the trolley and started interrogating me
Erling: what did you tell him
Jude: that Erla likes norwegian food
Erling: ...
Erling: you are a terrible liar
Jude: I KNOW
Erling: but is cute. see you tonight.,don't forget the brunost <3
At the checkout counter, the cashier gave him a look but said nothing. Small mercies.
When Jude got home Erling was already there, he had a key, had for weeks now, lying on the sofa watching a cooking programme.
"Get everything?" Erling asked, not looking away from the telly but making grabby hands.
"Yes, and Jobe now thinks I either made Erla up or I'm secretly in love with you."
Erling's head whipped round. "What?"
Jude recounted the entire supermarket disaster. By the end Erling was laughing so hard he had actual tears in his eyes.
"He thinks you're pining for me?" he wheezed. "This is the best thing I've heard all year."
"It's not funny!"
"It’s actually hilarious." Erling pulled him down onto the sofa. "You know what would be funnier?"
"Hmm?"
"If you actually were pining, Imagine buying all this, hoping I'd notice."
"I'd never pine for you," Jude said, kissing him. "I'm not that pathetic."
"You're a little bit pathetic." Erling kissed him back, grinning against his mouth. "It’s why I love you."
+1.
The house was Erling's family's, tucked away on the coast, and for one entire week it was just the two of them and absolutely nothing else.
They'd barely left the bedroom for the first two days. Now, on day three, they were attempting to be functional adults who did things like cook dinner and go outside occasionally.
Erling was trying to make something respectable while Jude sat on the counter stealing bits of veg and being generally useless, mid-argument about whether Sunday roast was objectively better than fårikål, Jude's phone started ringing.
Jobe calling.
"Shit," Jude muttered, and answered. "Hey."
"Where are you, I tried your flat and-"
"I’m actually away for the week."
"Oh, nice! Solo trip?"
"Yeah, Just relaxing."
Erling, because he was an absolute menace, came up behind Jude, arms wrapping round his waist, mouth pressing to the back of his neck right under his ear.
"Stop," Jude hissed, hand over the phone. Erling ignored him completely.
"What was that?" Jobe asked.
"Nothing." Jude laughed awkwardly.
Erling's hands were sliding lower now. Jude grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him and hold a phone conversation at the same time, which was proving to be logistically impossible.
"So listen," Jobe was saying, "wanted to run something by you about pre-season."
Erling bit down gently at the juncture of his neck and Jude barely bit back a gasp.
"figured if we get everyone together before the friendlies–"
Erling's hand found his belt.
"—Jude, are you listening?"
"Yep! Totally. Pre-season. Got it."
Erling dropped to his knees, entirely too pleased with himself. Jude shook his head at him, wide-eyed, which only seemed to spur him on.
"Anyway Coach thinks we should, wait, seriously are you okay? You sound weird."
"I'm fine." His voice cracked halfway through the word. "Great, actually!"
Erling was taking his sweet time about it, the absolute bastard, and Jude's free hand found its way into his hair less to stop him and more because his knees had gone unreliable.
"Jude is someone there?"
"What? No. Just me and my pet mouse."
Somewhere below him Erling snorted, and the vibration of it made Jude's hips jerk forward without his permission.
"Your pet mouse," Jobe repeated slowly. "The one you definitely have and that's definitely not a lie?"
"Yep! Stuart. Very very vocal little guy."
Erling's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter now, which somehow made everything worse. Jude was going to die, right here, on the kitchen floor of the Solberg family holiday house, while his brother listened on the phone none the wiser.
"Jude, I swear to god-"
Jude couldn't bite back the sound that slipped out fast enough. He slapped his free hand over his mouth. Too late.
"Alright," Jobe said slowly. "You're clearly busy. I'll call you back."
"Yes, good plan, great plan, talk later, bye."
Jude hurled the phone at the sofa the second the call ended and it landed with a soft thud.
"Erling, I swear to" Whatever he was going to say dissolved into nothing at all a few seconds later, one hand braced on the counter, the other still tangled in Erling's hair, brother entirely and completely forgotten.
Afterward Erling stood up looking unbearably pleased with himself while Jude tried to remember how lungs worked.
"You," Jude managed, "are unhinged."
"You love it."
"I love you."
Erling kissed him, slow and smug. "Love you too."
Jude pressed his face into Erling's neck. "He definitely knows something's off."
"He knows nothing."
"He knows I'm not alone."
"He thinks you have a mouse."
Jude started laughing despite himself. "I can't believe that excuse worked twice."
From the sofa, his phone started ringing again.
"Don't answer," Erling said.
"Might be important."
"Or it's Jobe with more questions about your imaginary rodent."
It rang out, then immediately started again. Jude sighed and went to grab it, jeans half back on, one hand still doing up the button. Jobe calling.
"Forget something?"
A long pause.
"I've got a question for you, Jude."
Something in his voice made Jude's stomach drop. "Okay?"
"Is there something you want to tell me?"
"What do you—"
"The call didn't drop."
Jude's whole body went cold. "What."
"I heard pretty much all of it." Jobe's voice was gentle in a way that scared Jude more than shouting would have. "Jude. Who's with you?"
Jude looked over at Erling, who'd gone very still, eyes finding his. He gave the smallest nod.
"I—" Jude's voice cracked. "Jobe, I can explain—"
"Is it him?"
Jude closed his eyes. "Yeah."
A long breath out. "Okay. Okay, that's ,, that's fine, Jude. That's totally fine." A pause, like he was choosing his next words on purpose. "I'm not gonna grill you about it over the phone. We'll talk properly when you're back, yeah? Face to face."
"Jobe,"
"I mean it. Come home whenever you're ready and we'll sit down and you can tell us everything." A beat. "You're still my brother. Nothing's changed there."
Jude's throat went tight. "I know."
"Love you, donut."
"Love you too."
The call ended. Jude stood there staring at the phone, chest heaving.
"Alright?" Erling asked, hands settling on his hips.
"He knows it's a man. Doesn't know it's you." Jude dragged a hand down his face. "He's being so normal about it, it's freaking me out more than if he'd shouted."
"So tell him properly." Erling shrugged, easy as anything, already reaching for his car keys. "Tonight in person. Why wait."
"Tonight?"
"You want it done, we do it. Come on, we'll cook and do it right."
Which is how, four hours later, Jude found himself back in his own kitchen with Erling elbow-deep in a leg of lamb and a pot of something that smelled suspiciously like it had brown cheese melted into the gravy, while Jude paced a hole in the floor and sent one text to the family group chat.
Jude: dinner at mine. don't be weird about it please.
Mum: 👀
Jobe: is this THE talk
Jude: just come
The next evening, at six on the dot, the doorbell rang.
Jude opened it to find his mum, his dad, and Jobe all crammed onto the step, Jobe visibly vibrating with nosiness, his mum already holding a bottle of wine like she'd come prepared for anything.
"Right," Jobe said, pushing past him into the kitchen. "Where's the mystery"
He stopped dead in the doorway.
Erling straightened up from the oven, tea towel over one shoulder, looking about as innocent as a six-foot-three Norwegian could manage while holding a leg of lamb.
"Hi," he said.
Total silence.
"Erling?" Jobe's voice actually cracked. "Erling in your kitchen. Why is he here now when-"
Their mum had gone very still by the door, wine bottle forgotten, eyes going wide and then, slowly, delighted. Their dad just started laughing.
"Oh," Mum said, hand flying to her mouth. "Oh. Right, of course Erling."
"You're not" Jude looked between them, thrown. "You're not surprised?"
"Love, we're surprised it's him specifically," Mum said, already crossing the kitchen to kiss Erling on the cheek like this was the most normal thing in the world, "we're not surprised you like men. We've known you were bi since you were nineteen and cried over that Colin Farrell film for three days."
"That's not the same thing at all!"
"And in fairness," Dad added, settling into a chair like he owned the place, which, fine, he did, "you've been unhinged about this boy since he was your teammate. The Google alerts. The way you go quiet whenever he is on the telly. We just genuinely never connected the dots, sorry, our bad."
"I do NOT go quiet-"
"You do," Jobe said, finding his voice again, dropping into the chair next to their dad, still staring at Erling like he might vanish. "You do, mate. It was actually kind of sad to watch."
"Can everyone please focus on the fact that this is a whole revelation and you're all acting like I just changed breakfast cereals—"
"We're thrilled," Mum said, patting his cheek. "Genuinely. Now sit down and let the poor man finish the lamb, he's been very sweet about all this."
Erling, for his part, looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, sliding the lamb back into the oven with the calm of a man who'd already decided the best strategy was to keep cooking and let the Bellinghams sort themselves out around him.
Jobe recovered fastest and rounded on Erling the second dinner hit the table, fork pointed at him like a very small, very determined weapon.
"Right, You hurt my brother, I will personally make your life miserable. On and off the pitch. I know people."
"Understood," Erling said, unbothered, cutting into his lamb.
"I'm serious, Haaland."
"I know."
"Jobe." Their dad didn't even look up from his plate. "Shut up and eat your dinner."
"I'm just laying out the terms—"
"You've laid them out. He heard you. Now eat."
Jobe subsided into muttering, shooting Erling suspicious looks between bites, which Erling bore with total serenity even winking at Jude across the table at one point, which made Jobe visibly recoil.
"Honestly," Mum said, topping up her wine, thoroughly pleased with how the evening had gone, "I always thought you two would end up here eventually. You were unbearable at that under-18s tournament, following him round with your eyes like a lost puppy."
"I was NOT??"
"You were," Jobe and Dad said, in perfect unison.
Jude put his face in his hands. Under the table, Erling's hand found his knee, warm and steady, and when Jude looked up he was grinning at him like this, the noise, the teasing, his whole loud ridiculous family crammed round one table was exactly where he wanted to be.
"Anyway," Jobe said, pointing his fork at Erling one last time. "Welcome to the family, I suppose. God help you."
"Thank you," Erling said, entirely sincere, and reached for the gravy.