So for @protect-daniel-james and @incelhugochavez and neither of you have ANY obligation to read this or anyone else. So well behind a cut, Frank Lampard and Harry Redknapp have a conversation on a family holiday.
Dead dove warning also this is of course all fiction. All warnings under the cut so well avoidable
Underage, underage drinking, grooming. Uncle nephew creepiness? Not really checked. How underage is up to you, 15 ish?
Understudy
“Should you be out here lad?”
Frank flinches where he stopped just short of the wall by where he knew his uncle was sitting by the pool.
The sun is down and the mosquito lamps have been lit, casting their sickly yellow glow in little pools around the tables.
Harry sits just out of the light.
Frank can tell by his voice Harry ‘has had a few.’ He can hear his mother saying that. Pat’s slightly disapproving tone echoing in his mind.
Normally he’d make up an excuse to go back to the house, and wait until the others were around. His Uncle can be unpredictable after a few. ‘In his cups.’ His mum’s voice again.
But tonight he wants to check if Harry meant what he said. Training with his dad is great and all, he’s learned a lot and his dad will never let him not give his all, but Harry has offered to get him some time at the the West Ham ground.
Normally by this point of the night the cousins are all in the games room behind the garages.
There is a pool table and table tennis and a stereo that is just far enough away from where the parents gather for wine after dinner that they can turn it up.
And the music selection is a bit dated, but they don’t have to put on anything just for the adults. Mark has some CD’s they play as well
But his sisters are distracted talking about the boys who work on the boats that take the tourists out fishing. And Mark and Jamie have their eyes on the girl who works at the cafe. They practise their Spanish on her. Frank goes along with them but doesn’t exactly see the appeal.
Mark a couple of inches taller than them both. Lording it over them. Jamie catching up before Frank. They keep talking about the girls in school that Frank is pretty sure are pure bullshit. But then he knows from the conversations his dad and friends have that girls love a football player.
Mark keeps talking about the photos his agent is shopping around. Flexes in the sun when the other girls are around. Frank keeps his shirt on when they are at the beach, unless they are in the water.
But he’s been turning Uncle Harry’s - ‘just call me Harry now lad you’re old enough’ -offer over and over in his mind.
All the men have gotten slightly sunburned. The boys have been nagged and cajoled enough by their mothers to just have slightly pink noses and colour on the tops of their shoulders.
Frank can feel the heat of the sun on his arms though. Can feel the weight of his uncle’s arm around his shoulder when they were on the boat.
“Don’t just stand there, bring us a beer.” Frank steps out of the shadows. Harry is lying on one of the sun loungers by the pool. He’s got one of the cigars his dad gave him at the start of the holiday in his hand and as he breathes in it lights up the lower half of his face.
His bare chest is hairy and so are his legs. Frank’s always felt soft around his dad and his uncles. Like he needs to stop eating the sweets his mother gives him and harden up.
Harry’s chest is red compared to his arms, normally covered up at home in England.
“Get yourself one, if your mum isn’t fussing.” Harry says.
Frank used to play football with his uncle years ago, he and Jamie would beg him to play with him on family hols. It’s been three or four years since they took one. The villa in Spain with its own pool and the houses joined by garages was organised by Frank’s mum and aunt.
Jamie and Frank are allowed to sit in the conversations about West Ham under strict instructions to be silent. He would have thought Harry would ignore him a bit now. But he feels his gaze sometimes when the men are talking.
Frank will look up from spreading sunblock on his chest and legs and Harry’s eyes will be on him. Harry took the sunblock on the boat when they were fishing and smoothed it over his shoulders and the top of his back. His big slightly rough hands, spreading it down over the small of his back and the sides of his hips.
On the boat fishing Harry pulled Frank against him to show him how to use his shoulder to cast the line. Draped an arm over his shoulder to check the catch.
Rough catch of his stubble against Frank’s cheek.
Frank hesitates, then grabs two cans from the melted slush that was ice in the metal tub they have been keeping drinks in by the pool.
Chlorine hangs strongly in the still humid air, the insects buzz around despite the candles and patches left around.
Harry opens his beer and has a long drink. He nods to Frank to sit on the small table next to his lounger. Just to the side of his legs and lower down.
Frank takes a sip from the beer trying not to screw his face up. He can feel the heat from the sunburn on Harry’s legs where his knees are nearly touching the lounger.
“Did you mean what you said before? Could I play with the West Ham under 16’s? Frank blurts out. He takes another drink quickly.
Harry smiles, Frank can just see his mouth turn up. “I meant it lad.” He replies. “The problem will be them complaining about you, not you keeping up with them.” He takes another puff, the smoke sitting obnoxiously in the air.
Frank twists his nose up.
“I don’t don’t doubt our kid that you will be a better player than your dad. Maybe even better than Jamie.”
Harry tips his head back and has a long drink. He burps, and puts the can to the side. Rests his cigar on the top of it.
He turns around so his legs are bracketing either side of Frank’s. The lounger creaks with his body weight as he moves around.
“You can see the pitch. See things other players don’t see. A mature player you. It’s kind of wasted you playing with the boys.”
Harry nods to Frank who takes another much smaller sip of his.
“Lad,” Harry says and drops a hand on his leg. “You could play for England.” His hand slides up just to the edge of Frank’s shorts and he squeezes the forming muscles.
“Work on your running and goal scoring. “ his hand loosens a bit but he doesn’t let go. Frank’s leg twitches without him meaning to and Harry runs his thumb down the line of his quads along the inside of Frank’s thigh.
Frank has another drink. Getting used to the taste. “It’s warm beer lad.” Harry says and puts his hand on the inside of Frank’s other leg moving his thumb across the definition of the muscle there as well. “Not everything has to be savoured.”
Harry slides his hands up slightly, just under the seam of Frank’s shorts. Frank twitches again.
“Make sure you get a rub down and a stretch out.” Harry says. His fingers flex again, fingers spreading covering the front of Frank’s thighs. His thumbs dig into the skin in the inside of his legs harder, rubbing circles, moving slightly up.
Frank looks up from where he was mesmerised with his uncle’s hands rubbing over his legs. Harry is looking down at Frank, mouth slightly open, eyes half closed. He leans down, the sour smell of the cigar smoke settling on Frank’s mouth as he breathes out.
Footsteps on the tiles snap their gaze. Harry pulls his hands from Frank’s legs and takes the beer can out of Frank’s hand.
“I’ve got your back, our lad.” He says his voice hoarse, having a long drink.
Frank’s mother comes around the corner. She’s holding a torch and the light bounces between the two of them. Frank puts his hand up to stop being dazzled and Harry just hefts himself back, settling down lying on the lounger. “Don’t put the light in my eyes love.” He tells Pat. He puts his hand down and picks up his cigar.
“Come on Frankie,” Pat says. But her eyes are on Harry “you should be in bed.”
