˚◈ ––– @jamesjoiint ❜
––– she’d finally stopped screaming about two minutes ago. collan had grumbled in the past about not being able to express his pride at her successes how he’d have liked, with screaming and hugging and unfiltered wild jubilation. she understood, because she couldn’t imagine watching him win without shouting in joy along with thousands of other fans. tonight was a night in his world, not her’s, and she didn’t mind. given she’d watched from a box, not down with the masses, but she certainly didn’t look out of place. messy waves and jeans (heels too for her own sanity) but the most important part of the outfit was one of his jerseys. she wore it with pride. she’d come down to the field, every inch of space filled with bodies, and she searched for him. it was ten unbearable minutes before she caught sight of her husband. his back was to her and she moved towards him, and her arms slid around him from behind. “hey, aren’t you the guy who just won the superbowl? what do you say you let me take you home tonight for a little victory party?”
