TEAM PLAY: off the record, "Goal"

[trobadora]

Title: Goal
Author: velocitygrass
Team: Play
Prompt: off the record
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Contains: ( skip) Coach/Player relationship

Notes: Many thanks to mezzo_cammin, secondalto and fluffyllama for going over this!
Summary: Rodney McKay manages to lead Team USA to the World Cup final, but winning the match might not be the most important thing that day.

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**

Rodney looked around the stadium and took in the atmosphere for a moment as his team prepared themselves.

Half of the ranks were red, white and blue, the stars and stripes adorning not just the pre-requisite flags, but shirts, faces and other parts of the body.

He was and would always be Canadian. But he appreciated the support for his team, and he knew that it would touch and motivate them. He looked at the eleven young men who'd already come further than anyone had expected and who now reached for what had seemed like the impossible.

The fans loved them for it. Rodney himself had a more detached perspective. They were athletes that he'd trained. They'd worked very hard to get where they were now, and Rodney was proud of all of them. Especially John Sheppard, who'd worked harder than anyone else.

And who'd earned more than Rodney's respect on the way to this World Cup final.

~~

People had been skeptical when Rodney had been hired to coach the American national team. Taking a team all the way to winning the European Championship wasn't considered all that impressive, and when Rodney had begun by completely restructuring the team, letting go of well-known and well-liked players in favor of newcomers, there'd been a great uproar.

Keeping John on the team had been the final straw for many sports journalists and fans. They didn't understand why Rodney would kick out good, proven team players for someone who was known to be a great player, but unreliable. The press and fans had a love-hate relationship with John, praising him when he managed to score the decisive goal, cursing him when he messed up.

But Rodney didn't care about what the press or the fans said. He only cared about the results, and he knew that John had it in him to not just deserve a spot on the team but to lead it. Unfortunately, he was pretty much alone in that belief. Even John himself seemed mostly confused when Rodney not only let him play from the beginning in their next exhibition game, but also pulled him back from being a forward to being playmaker, building up the attack from the center.

For a torturous forty-eight minutes John looked almost helpless on the field. He didn't know when to retreat and when to move forward. He tried to fall back into what he knew, trying to score all by himself, but failed. It was a disaster and everyone-including John-expected that he wouldn't return to the field for the second half. Many were surprised he even made it to the end of the first half.

But Rodney didn't let it deter him. In the locker room, he just looked at his new team. Everyone tried very hard not to look at John, who stood a bit apart from the rest of them.

"Come with me," Rodney said to him, and John followed him into a little room.

They looked at each other for a long moment. John seemed stoic. The press sometimes likened him to a defiant child, but John was willing to accept whatever Rodney would decide. At least, Rodney hoped so.

"If you think I'm letting you off the hook so easily, you're wrong."

There was a spark of surprise in John's eyes, but he didn't otherwise react.

"I know that this is new, and I don't expect you to get it perfect the first time. But I expect you to give your goddamn best and not just give up without even trying. If that's too much to ask for, you can get off the field and off the team right this second."

This got a reaction. Rodney could see the protest in John's eyes. He knew that John wouldn't voluntarily leave the team.

"I want you to go out there and forget everything you've ever done before now," Rodney continued. "Forget the first half. Forget all the other games, bad and good. I know you can score goals, but you can do more. Look at what's going on around you. Look at the ball, where it is and where it needs to be. And then make it happen!"

John frowned at him, but still didn't say anything.

"I'm not letting you off the field unless you're injured or absolutely unable to run anymore."

John nodded. They went back out, and John played the full ninety minutes. It wasn't good. But towards the end, Rodney had seen the spark of understanding in John, of moving with the ball and the team where he needed to be.

They lost the match-against a low-ranked team-and the press couldn't quite decide whether to blame Rodney or John. Blaming both was a pretty popular option, but Rodney ignored it as well as he could.

The next day, John came into his office, and this time Rodney kept quiet, forcing John to say something.

"You could have told me. I could have prepared myself better," John said.

Rodney gave him a long look. "Would you have?" he asked.

John frowned again, not answering for a while.

Rodney had done what he thought was necessary. He felt that to make John take responsibility he had to give it to him. The rest would work itself out.

"I will now," John eventually said.

And he did. He watched games and read up on theory. He trained harder than anyone else on the team, and he talked to Rodney about the best strategies against various teams.

They spent a lot of time together, and between work, Rodney got glimpses of the man behind the player. John had a dry sense of humor and was a closet geek. They spent a whole evening discussing which Marvel characters would make the best soccer team. It was a heated discussion, but it left Rodney with the feeling that they might be more than player and coach. Maybe they were becoming friends.

Friendship or not, Rodney expected results from his team, and from John more than anyone else.

They had a few exhibition games before the qualification for the next World Cup would begin, where they could no longer afford not to be in top form. The second match with John in his new position went significantly better than the first-but then that wasn't really hard to accomplish.

The match ended in a lucky win for Team USA. Rodney only cared insofar that it kept the press off his back. Some people were beginning to get what he was trying to do. But they-like Rodney-could see that he wasn't there yet.

So they kept working on it, every match making John more comfortable in his new role, but something was still missing.

"Okay, what is it?" Rodney asked John after another match.

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"You're not..." Rodney wasn't sure how to phrase it. "You're not giving one hundred percent."

John opened his mouth to protest, but Rodney stopped him.

"Not athletically. I don't think it's humanly possibly for you to run faster, and your precision is damn near perfect. You're just... What are you afraid of?" Rodney asked, finding no other way to ask what he needed to know.

John frowned, but Rodney knew he'd hit a nerve when John rebuilt some of the walls that he'd let down in Rodney's presence in the last months. "I'm not afraid," John said, and this time he really was defiant.

"Is it success? Are you afraid that people might actually like you, even if you make mistakes?" Rodney pressed on.

John's jaw clenched. He stood stock-still and didn't say a word.

"Are you afraid to be a hero?"

John snorted bitterly. "I'll never be a hero."

"Why do you say that?" Rodney asked.

But John shut down again, staring at the floor now, unhappy and almost angry.

"Is it because you're gay?" Rodney asked.

John's head shot up. He looked completely shocked. There wasn't even denial on his lips. Not that Rodney would have believed it after his reaction.

Rodney had had a feeling that John wasn't into women. As far as Rodney and the public knew, he wasn't currently in a relationship and never had been. He also seemed slightly awkward around women, even though he could put on the charm if he wanted to. Either way, it hadn't mattered to Rodney, so he hadn't given it a lot of thought.

Now, though, he had to. It wasn't uncommon for athletes to keep their sexual orientation a secret if they weren't straight. Rodney himself had never advertised that he was bisexual, so he couldn't blame John for doing the same. But he also couldn't let it affect his performance.

"Nobody knows. There aren't even rumors."

John's gaze dropped to the floor again.

"And even if they found out, it wouldn't matter," Rodney continued.

John gave him a look.

"Okay, it shouldn't," Rodney amended. He couldn't lie to John. It would matter. Certain people would freak out at the thought of a national icon, someone young boys looked up to and wanted to emulate, who was gay. But that couldn't be John's concern. And Rodney knew that some people would actually see it the other way round. They'd think that it was John's duty to come out as a positive gay role model and example that gay people were normal and could be found everywhere. Rodney couldn't put that kind of pressure on John. He wanted John to play as well as he knew he could, nothing more, nothing less. "It won't matter to me," he said, because of that he could be certain. "And it sure as hell won't matter to the ball."

John snorted and smiled at Rodney. Then his smile faded. "Playing soccer is all I ever wanted to do."

"Then do just that and forget about the rest. You can't control what they'll write about you. But you can give them something worthwhile to write about. You could be one of the best, John. Not just on this team. You're already best there. I mean in the world. You'll just have to accept that you'll be everyone's hero. And if something happens that certain people can't deal with, that is their problem."

John looked at him for a long moment. "I'll try," he said.

"Try you must not," Rodney began, and John started laughing.

He tried and succeeded. Rodney wasn't sure if it really had been their conversation, but whenever John was on the field now, he gave everything that Rodney could have asked for. He was wherever he was needed. He motivated his fellow players. He gave the team the structure and stability they'd needed.

It wasn't perfect. The team as Rodney had built it was still too new, and during the qualification games they still had to iron out a few things. But John was always there to be a part of that-on the field and off.

He and Rodney spent a lot of time discussing strategies and positions. And after John's confession-if you could call lack of denial that-he became more open around Rodney.

Rodney had a hard time qualifying the changes. It was the casual way John would sit close enough to touch Rodney. It was a smile or a look that lasted too long. It was the downright flirty tone that John sometimes had with him now when they were alone.

Rodney hadn't lied when he'd said it didn't matter to him that John was gay. To the coach, only John's performance on the field and everything related to that mattered. But Rodney McKay, the man, couldn't help wondering what it was that had developed and continued to develop between them. Did John have a secret relationship? Rodney doubted it. Did his flirting with Rodney mean anything or was it completely innocent? Rodney had no idea.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it. John was hot. He was, in Rodney's mind-and that of a good portion of the fans-the most physically attractive player in the team. But it wasn't his looks that made it hard for Rodney not to consider where their relationship could go.

John simply got him.

Rodney wasn't easy to be around. There had been some grumbling among the players when he had first started as coach, but, like good soldiers, they had swallowed their complaints and did what was asked of them. After a while, and some good results, they had learned to trust Rodney. John, on the other hand, had always taken Rodney's rants easily. He seemed to be amused more than annoyed and more often than not would drawl a sarcastic answer.

While Rodney managed to earn his team's respect, John gave him more than that. As they went through exhibition games and qualification matches, they spent more and more time together, and Rodney realized that John was genuinely happy when he was around Rodney. It wasn't a feeling that Rodney was used to. Tolerance was what he was usually aiming for. It was enough if the players listened to him and trusted him. He didn't need them to like him.

But John certainly did like him. Rodney was even pretty sure that John liked him a lot. He just wasn't sure if that translated into more than friendship, at least for John. Unfortunately, spending so much time with John, watching him excel on the field and flirt with Rodney off it, Rodney realized that his thoughts about John had gone beyond the platonic and professional.

It wouldn't be a problem for him to act professionally when necessary, but he wasn't very good at self-constraint. When John came to him after one of the last qualification matches to discuss their performance, Rodney took a chance and stopped John at the door.

John's eyebrow rose, but Rodney didn't let it deter him. He needed to know one way or another. It would be okay if John wasn't interested, if the flirting was just for fun. He could live with a rejection, but he needed to try.

He looked at John and leaned forward slowly, until he could see understanding dawning on John's face as his gaze dipped to Rodney's lips. Rodney stopped where he was. He needed John to take the next step.

John looked up to meet his eyes. Rodney wasn't sure what he saw in those eyes. He thought he saw want, but there was also something else, something that made John hesitate.

Rodney didn't move. He'd learned that it was sometimes necessary to force John to take a position, verbally or strategically.

"If...," John started, eyes moving down to Rodney's lips again and then back up, "If someone finds out..."

"They don't have to," Rodney said. John and Rodney spent a lot of time alone already. If nobody had been suspicious until now there was no reason they would become so in the future, unless John or Rodney gave them a reason. It was obvious that John didn't want anyone to know, and Rodney was okay with that. He might not always be, but right now he only cared about the next World Cup and taking his team as far as he could. John wouldn't always be on the national team. He was twenty-nine. Rodney wasn't even sure he'd still make the team in five years for the World Cup after the next.

But all of that was in the future, and he was waiting for John to make a decision now.

John did make a decision. It seemed to take forever, but eventually he leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between them.

The moment their lips touched, things stopped going slow. The kiss was hard, demanding, and John pulled Rodney into his strong arms, holding him so tight that Rodney could hardly breathe. Or maybe he was getting light-headed for other reasons.

They pushed against each other, hands groping for skin, and along with the kiss everything spiraled out of control until they ended up on the floor in a sticky, panting, satiated heap.

"God, that was good," John said, idly tracing patterns on Rodney's back.

Rodney didn't disagree, though he didn't think his back would be too happy the next morning. "The couch would have been better," he commented.

John laughed. Then his expression softened into a smile. "I really needed this."

Rodney wasn't quite sure what he meant. And this time he decided not to ask.

Regular sex only seemed to make John play even better. They didn't do anything before important matches, of course. Rodney complied with the rules he set for his players, no matter how tempting John was in full concentration before a match.

Having sex didn't really change their relationship. They still talked strategy and hung out together. John was flirty when they were alone and completely professional when they were around others. Sex only happened as isolated incidents, a blow job here, and some frottage there. Once they tried a sixty-nine on the couch in Rodney's office. It wasn't bad, but more difficult than was worth it.

They didn't fuck. They never took their relationship out of closed doors. Even when they were alone, John wasn't openly affectionate unless either of them had initiated sex.

While the lack of fucking didn't bother Rodney too much-John could give amazing blow jobs and loved it when Rodney thrust down his throat-he wasn't sure how to feel about the other thing. He didn't expect John to come out, about his sexual orientation or their relationship, but, as it was, it didn't even really feel like a relationship most of the time.

Sometimes Rodney wondered if what they had was just a convenient arrangement, if they were just friends with benefits in John's eyes. He knew that John had avoided being with someone out of fear of being caught. Now, he wasn't sure if John only took the chance that Rodney had offered him or if he had real feelings for Rodney.

They never talked about their relationship. Rodney didn't know how to even begin asking what was on his mind. He didn't want to put John on the defensive. He didn't want him to think that he wanted more than John was willing to give. He just would have liked to know what he could expect.

Since he didn't ask, they simply continued on as they were. They worked on how to get the best out of their team, they talked and snarked, and occasionally they had quick, passionate sex.

Then the World Cup finally came. Their first game ended in a draw, ending some of the buzz that had started about Team USA and their coach. Rodney yelled quite a bit during that game, but afterwards he fully concentrated on fixing the mistakes that had been made.

John came to him that night and apologized, even though they both knew he had done his best. But, by this point, he was taking full responsibility for everything that happened on the field. Rodney was incredibly proud of him.

He hadn't been sure if the sex would continue during the World Cup. They had a standing rule of no sex for two days before a big match and at the World Cup every match was important. The nights after a match were fair game, though, and while many players took the opportunity to be with their wives or girlfriends, Rodney hadn't counted on John wanting the same.

So he only talked about the match, focusing on what they'd done right and where they could improve. John answered in kind. They talked until John yawned, and Rodney told him to go to bed.

John nodded, but then he looked at Rodney, hesitating. "I was wondering..." He didn't say anything more.

"If you're not too tired. I need you fit for the next match more than anything," Rodney said.

"I'll come around," John said with a grin. "And this'll help."

It was frottage in bed that night. John rubbed himself against Rodney, burying his face in Rodney's neck and whispering Rodney's name.

It was sweet torture for Rodney. As much as he tried to tell himself that first and foremost John was the captain of his team, that everything else was just a bonus, he couldn't help the ache in his heart when he heard the desperation in John's voice when he came.

Being with John shattered him in the best possible way, but afterward he immediately braced himself for the moment that John left. It wasn't that John was always in a hurry to get away from Rodney. Sometimes they cuddled and kissed after sex, but sooner rather than later, something in John would switch and he'd turn back into the friendly, flirty guy who seemed so approachable and yet was entirely unattainable.

Rodney wondered if he would have made that first step towards John if he had known what he would get. Sadly, the answer to that was probably a yes.

They won the next two matches and finished first in their group. Many were surprised by this, but Rodney wasn't. He had full confidence in John and the rest of the team.

John came to him every night after a match, no matter how exhausted he was. Rodney was touched by his insistence at returning Rodney's blow job. Part of him hoped John would fall asleep in his bed, but he knew that he wouldn't, that he couldn't.

John prepared the decisive goal in their quarter final match, and while everyone cheered and hugged the scorer, Rodney only had eyes for John and how proud and happy he looked.

He was in love with John.

It wasn't a new feeling, even though he had never admitted it to himself before that moment. In the end, it didn't matter, because what he had and didn't have with John was entirely out of his control.

Rodney wasn't the kind of person who dwelled on what he couldn't have. He'd lamented the state of soccer in Canada, but instead of wallowing in it, he'd left the country to find himself the teams that he could take to greatness. Team USA would be his biggest triumph.

With John, he took what he could get. And right now, that was an exceptional team captain, the best friend that Rodney had never had before, and the occasional lover, clichéd as that sounded. If he wanted more, he tried to squash that feeling. As they came closer to reaching their goal, it became easier.

Rodney's mind was on the minutiae of their final match. He needed to decide who would be in the group of eleven that started the match. He needed to keep all options open and to know how to react to any possible way their opponents might play the match.

The last two days before the final were so busy that he didn't really have time to even think about John in a different capacity than team captain and his best player. So he didn't expect that on the evening before the final, after he'd talked to every player and gone through their strategy with John one last time, John didn't immediately leave.

"Anything else?" Rodney asked. "You're not nervous, are you? You know you can do this. And you'll all be heroes, even if you don't win." It was true. Team USA's advancement to the final had started a soccer craze throughout the United States. John would probably be able to live comfortably on the advertising gigs alone that he'd be able to score after the World Cup, no matter if they won or lost. And they would win. Rodney knew it.

"Just one thing," John said quietly. "No matter what happens tomorrow..." Then he leaned forward and kissed Rodney.

It was a soft, tender kiss. Rodney was so shocked that he didn't react at all for the first few seconds. John had never once kissed him when they weren't having sex. He'd never even put his hand on Rodney's or done anything beyond the flirting and even that was more along the lines of what he did with women on occasion.

This kiss, though, was full of emotion and everything that he'd never said to Rodney. When Rodney finally managed to kiss back, he felt for the first time that he wasn't alone in his feelings. He still didn't know what would happen after the World Cup. If they'd part ways, or continue as they had, if maybe there was a future where they could be openly together. But at least now he was sure that it hadn't just been a convenience for John, that he'd been more than a willing and safe body to him.

Eventually they had to part, and John said goodnight, cupping Rodney's face and kissing him once more before he left. That night, Rodney had a hard time thinking about their match tomorrow. Thankfully, he soon drifted to sleep, a smile on his face.

The stadium was packed the next day. US fans proudly waved their flags and various body parts that were covered in red, white and blue. Rodney listened as the national hymns were played, thinking of Canada for a moment.

Then the teams grouped up once again for a last speech by their captains.

It was out of his hands now. Of course, he still had to decide who would be replaced during the match and he could shout out his orders and would have the chance to give one last speech during the half-time break. But this was pretty much it, and his team would have to put everything they'd learned to use now.

The first goal was against them. They'd let their opponents put on too much pressure, and one good chance led to a goal. Rodney cursed and shouted at them to fight. And fight they did, John more than anyone else. It was unbelievable how much he ran. Going back into defense, getting the ball there and taking it forward to give his scorers a chance. Once he even tried it himself when the opportunity arose but only hit the crossbar.

They went into the half-time break with that one goal against them, and Rodney could only tell them to continue. They weren't doing anything wrong. Their opponent was what many considered the best team in the world at the time. But Rodney knew that his team could prove them wrong, that they had it in them.

Twenty minutes into the second half, they were still trailing by one goal. John was playing the game of his life. Rodney wasn't sure for how long he'd be able to keep this up. He wouldn't take John out until absolutely necessary, but he'd never run this much before. This was their seventh match in the tournament and John had played full time in every single one of them.

It was another one of John's captures of the ball that led to a big chance. Their opponents stood pretty deep in the field, preparing for another attack, and John could play to a team mate who made it through two defense players and before having to surrender to a third, played the ball vaguely in the direction of the goal.

Rodney didn't know how he did it, but John was there, running as if it was only one minute into the game, not seventy. He reached to ball and took a shot, hitting the ball into the top right corner of the goal.

The stadium erupted in cheers, as did every member of the team on the field and off. Rodney had to remind them and himself that this was just pulling equal. There were no draws in a final. His team had little experience with penalty shootouts and having to do them in a final was nothing that you could train for. He wasn't sure how well they'd do in extra time either.

A lot of his players were getting visibly tired. Why John wasn't on the verge of collapse after all he'd done was anyone's guess. Letting his team down was probably simply not an option for him. Rodney was proud of him as a coach, and he loved him as whatever it was they were to each other.

The last twenty minutes of regular time were like torture to Rodney and probably anyone else that was watching the game and had a vested interest in either of the teams winning. They were evenly matched, Rodney had to admit, but he didn't stop believing in his team, and especially John.

It was the eighty-sixth minute when John conquered the ball again in midfield before their opponent could attack. Keeping the whole field in mind, he pulled the ball past two players and then kicked it over to another player who had found an empty spot.

It was a perfect shot and from there the ball made its way in front of the goal where one of their scorers managed to hit the ball with his head, clear into the right side of the goal.

They'd done it. They were leading with four minutes regular time to go.

Rodney's heart was beating furiously as he watched his team doing everything in their power to defend their goal against the desperate last-minute attacks of their opponents.

At ninety minutes, three minutes injury time was announced. Rodney couldn't sit still, almost couldn't watch, every time their opponents came close. They had to risk it all now, and one of their attacks allowed Team USA to start a counter attack that nearly led to another goal.

They didn't quite make it, but it brought them one precious minute closer to the end of the game. Rodney mentally started counting down seconds, even though he knew that ultimately only the referee could decide when the match was over.

Their opponents mounted one last attack, and Rodney had to see one of his midfielders let the ball through, putting the defense on the spot. Everyone moved back including John who threw himself between the ball and the goal.

Their opponents got a last corner, and one last time, Rodney held his breath until their goalie cleared the shot and the ball flew far back into the midfield and the referee signaled the end of the game.

It was over.

Everyone from his bench ran onto the field. They hugged and shouted and some even cried. The audience went crazy. Rodney could only imagine what was going on in homes all over the US and the in the live screenings going on around the country. He imagined in the next few days and weeks he'd have a chance to find out.

He was happy. It wasn't like the exuberance of the fans here or the well-deserved ecstasy of the players, but he felt content and strangely at peace with the world. For a moment he just let that feeling fill him. It was too early to think about what would come next, professionally and otherwise.

People came to him and congratulated him, of course, but mostly they left him alone, cheering with the players instead, who made their way around the stadium. Tired though they must be, they drew enough strength to run around with a flag and greet the enthusiastic fans.

Rodney watched it with a smile on his face. John was with them. Leading his team now as he had throughout the whole tournament and before that, from the moment Rodney had entrusted him with that position.

It was a joy to watch. They'd have to come back soon and prepare to get the cup and their medals. Rodney wasn't too keen to shake hands with the officials, but he'd go through it for his team. Plus, he deserved that medal too.

He didn't immediately see when John left the group and came towards him. He smiled when he noticed. He didn't expect any thanks now. He knew that John and the whole team were grateful to him, even if he drove them up the wall quite often. But then, it was like John not to forget him in this moment.

He could see a camera following John and felt self-conscious about being put in the spotlight now in millions of homes and public spaces all over the world. But that was part of the game, and he was pretty good at ignoring the press.

John stopped in front of him, completely soaked through from the sweat, face slightly red, and his eyes bright with happiness.

Rodney only smiled at him. He didn't think any words were adequate or necessary in this moment. John seemed to agree. He smiled back. Then he took Rodney's face in his hands and kissed him.

Rodney couldn't believe what he was doing. His first thought was that John couldn't do this, that this would ensure that all anyone reported would be this kiss instead of their win. Then he realized how ridiculous he was being. Of course, there would be press about it, some of it full of hatred and vitriol. But those reports didn't matter, and if other outlets mentioned it, it wasn't his problem.

In fact, it wasn't a problem at all. As he got over the shock and kissed John back, he realized what had just happened.

John had kissed him, knowing that billions of people would be watching. Rodney couldn't speculate on what John had thought this would do in terms of social politics in his country and the future of his career. Maybe he hadn't really thought about the consequences at all, though Rodney doubted it. But what Rodney knew for sure now was that John wouldn't end this after the World Cup. He was willing to let billions of people know that he was with Rodney.

In that moment, Rodney forgot about what the press would say, what political organizations would say, even what his team would say. The only thing that mattered was what John had said. He wanted Rodney as much as Rodney wanted him.

And that was a bigger triumph than even the World Cup could be. It was his future.

**

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