Chapter Text
Walking through the doors to the locker room, Ali recalls the promise she and Ashlyn made to each other when they started dating to never let anything between them affect their team or their performance on the field.
Most of the time that promise means not overstaying their welcome in each other’s rooms at camp or on Spirit road trips. To this day, most of their Spirit teammates haven't seen them kiss aside from nights out after games, and even then it's at a minimum. But other times that means resisting the urge to snap at each other when they're fighting, something that doesn't come quite as easily, especially on days like today.
Ali made a rule to herself that she would never snoop in a significant other’s phone after she caught a high school boyfriend cheating. If you don’t trust them enough not to snoop, she figures, you won't like what you find. But she and Ashlyn don't have secrets. They know each other’s passwords for everything but never abuse that privilege, only using it when someone has to do the other a favor, like Ali reading out a text message while Ashlyn is driving.
“It's Alex,” Ali announces, sliding the phone to unlock it. She reads silently to herself, her brow furrowing in confusion. “She wants to know when you told Mark and the Orlando people you'd have an answer for them.”
Ashlyn freezes, her knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “Um, I don't know,” she says.
“What is she talking about?” Ali asks softly.
“It's nothing yet,” Ashlyn says. “I meant to talk to you but there hasn't been a good time.”
“About what?” Ali asks, racking her brain. No good time? They literally live together. They train together, they eat together, they sleep together.
“Can we talk about it after the game?” Ashlyn suggests, pulling into the parking lot.
“So I can be distracted the whole time? No, tell me now.”
Ashlyn puts the car in park and runs a hand through her hair, letting out a deep breath. “Orlando City wants to start a pro women's club,” she says. “It's pretty much a sure thing, actually. They have the investors and they've been working with the NWSL.”
“Why is Alex asking you about it?” Ali asks, her voice trembling. She already know the answer.
“When everything gets going, they're going to have an expansion draft,” Ashlyn says. “Alex is obviously the big acquisition they want, and of course she wants to go and be with Serv.”
“And they want you.” She says it as a matter of fact, and Ashlyn has no choice but to nod. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Ashlyn asks. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't that.
“I mean no!” Ali exclaims. “This isn't something you get to just decide on your own. You can't just spring this on me and expect me to be okay with it!”
“Technically Alex sprung this on you,” Ashlyn says, trying to ease the tension, but it doesn't work.
“Because you didn't tell me!” Ali says. “How long have you been keeping this from me?”
“I haven't been,” Ashlyn promises, turning her body so she's facing Ali. Ali looks straight ahead, her lip trembling like she's trying not to cry, and Ashlyn reaches over to place a hand on her thigh, but Ali flinches away.
“Don't touch me,” she says. “If you make me cry before this game I will never forgive you.”
Ashlyn pulls her hand back quickly. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You can leave me alone and let me focus,” Ali says, getting out of the car and slamming the door.
Ashlyn slams her fist against the steering wheel, accidentally triggering the horn, which makes Ali jump as she walks away, but she doesn't turn back.
She walks as fast as she can, not realizing how she’d feel walking up to the locker room on her own. She considers waiting, but she doesn't want to give Ashlyn the satisfaction, so she takes a deep breath and opens the door. The weirdness is probably all in her head anyway.
Or not. When she walks in alone, everyone looks confused.
“Where's Ashlyn?” Crystal asks almost immediately.
“She's coming,” Ali says, emotionless as she sets down her bag and takes off her shirt to change.
“Everything okay?” Crystal asks, concerned.
Ali looks up at the door to see Ashlyn walking in, and Crystal follows her gaze. “No.”
~
Her bad mood is only made worse when Mark tells her she's playing in midfield tonight (they’d tried it out in practice, but she didn’t think he’d seriously do it in a game), but she has to put on a happy face for a meet and greet with some of the kids from the Spirit’s Super Y program, many of whom want photos with her and Ashlyn, their local World Cup heroes, together.
During introductions, Ashlyn leans over to whisper something, and Ali grits her teeth, smiling politely. She doesn't know what she says, just that it's some wry comment that Ali usually would have laughed at. This is how Ashlyn would prefer to deal with fights: making Ali laugh so she forgets she's mad. It rarely works.
In Ali’s pregame speech, she can’t see Ashlyn, so she knows she must be somewhere behind her. This makes it easier when she makes her speech about leaving off-the-pitch distractions off the pitch and forgetting any personal problems for the next 90 minutes. To everyone else, it probably seems pretty random, but it’s easier than pulling Ashlyn aside and talking to her one on one.
Ali tunes everything out and focuses on the game, so much so that when Diana scores, she has to consciously stop herself from turning to Ashlyn and grinning to involve her in the celebration like she usually does. At halftime, she runs off the field without waiting to see where Ashlyn is.
She heads straight to the bathroom, as is her tradition, but of course Ashlyn follows her, knowing exactly where she’ll be.
“Not right now,” Ali sighs when she gets out of the bathroom stall and sees Ashlyn.
“A kiss,” Ashlyn says. “Please.”
“You’re sick.”
“On the cheek.”
Ali sighs, turning her cheek and leaning toward Ashlyn, who kisses it softly, probably taking more time than she usually would.
“We’re doing fine,” Ashlyn says. “We’ll be fine.”
Ali nods, turning back toward the sink to check her makeup in the mirror. “We need to get back.”
“It’s one game,” Ashlyn says. “This is more important. Tell me whatever happens we’ll be fine.”
“I can’t do that,” Ali says. “Not yet. I can focus on winning this game, though.”
~
She tries, anyway. They all try, and if Ashlyn’s honest with herself, she lets herself get comfortable at the very end, when the Flash manage a late equalizer. To make matters worse, Ali is in the box when it happens and ends up on the receiving end of Ashlyn’s frustration. Then there are nine (nine!) minutes of stoppage time, and Ashlyn knows Ali’s head can’t possibly be in the right place after her mini blow-up after the goal they conceded.
“Good game, pal,” Whitney says, hugging Ashlyn. “How are you feeling?”
“Cold-wise, I feel fine,” Ashlyn says. “They gave me some stuff for my chest, so I feel a little better.”
“But other than that?” Whitney asks, her eyes going toward Ali. They aren’t subtle, at least not to Whitney, who’s seen it all.
“It’s complicated,” Ashlyn answers.
“You always say that, and it’s rarely anything that can’t be solved with an ‘I’m sorry,’” Whitney reminds her. “I’m assuming you guys won’t want to hang tonight.”
Ashlyn cringes. “I’m so sorry, I forgot we were—”
“It’s okay,” Whitney says. “I’ll see you in Pittsburgh in a few days anyway.”
“Of course,” Ashlyn says, hugging her again. “Everything will be good then, and I’ll be more fun.”
“Good,” Whitney says. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get your lover’s side of the story.”
“Whit!”
“I’m joking,” Whitney laughs, rolling her eyes. “Team Ashlyn forever. I am going to say hi though.”
Ashlyn watches as her two best friends embrace, laughing and probably talking about what they need to pack for the Victory Tour—they’re just responsible like that—and the bad calls made by the referee. She wants to wait to say a quick “good game” to Ali, but she gets ushered away by some trainers to talk about how she's feeling first, then they have a team huddle and then start signing. She doesn't have a moment to even talk to Ali till they're in the locker rooms and passing by each other as Ali goes to shower, having stayed out a little longer.
“Feel okay?” Ali asks.
“Yeah,” Ashlyn replies, toweling off her hair. “Sorry for taking out my frustration on you out there.”
Ali waves her off. “It's cool. I was pissed about the goal too. It was a long game.”
“I missed you on my back line,” Ashlyn says, and Ali’s quiet.
“Yeah,” Ali says after a moment of looking everywhere but at Ashlyn. “I guess we’d better get used to it.”
~
They walk to the car in silence, Ali scrolling through her phone to like tweets and answer texts.
When they get to the car, though, Ashlyn can't take it any longer. She doesn't start the car, she just waits for Ali to notice and look up.
“What?” Ali asks, seeing Ashlyn staring at her.
“Game’s over,” Ashlyn says. “We’re alone. Can we please talk?”
“When we get home.”
“No, Alex,” Ashlyn groans. “We aren't going to put it off over and over. I want to talk now. I want to figure this out.”
“When were you going to tell me?” Ali asks. “How long were you planning on keeping me in the dark?”
“I don't know,” Ashlyn answers truthfully. “But look at this.” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping around. “You only saw one text. Look at all the ones before. Here. ‘I can't make a decision on this without talking to Ali.’ She asked me how I thought that would go, and I said I didn't know, but your input was going to be the most important.”
“No, it's not,” Ali says, sniffling as tears gather in her eyes. “What can I say? No, I don't want you to go? Of course I don't. But I can't stop you. You came here for me so I could play in my hometown and be near my family. I can't be selfish and not let you take the same opportunity.”
“Being at home and with my family is important to me, baby,” Ashlyn says softly, wrapping an arm around Ali and kissing the top of her head. “But not as important as you. You're my family too. This place feels like home, our teammates feel like family. It's a lot more complicated than it seems.”
“If it was that complicated, you'd already have decided not to go,” Ali says. “You wouldn't have needed my help.”
Ashlyn stays quiet, twirling Ali's hair around her finger. “What are we going to do?”
“Why didn't you ask me to go with you?”
“They wouldn't let us—”
“I know,” Ali says. She knows their value to the team, but also her value as the face of the team and their hometown girl. “I just—you didn't ask.”
“I want you with me everywhere I go,” Ashlyn says. “The thought of even a week without you makes me miserable. To imagine a whole season spent apart, even if we get to see each other at camp, really freaks me out. But you're happy here. Do I want you to come with me? Absolutely. I thought of every possible scenario to make that happen, trust me. If you left, I’d go with you in a heartbeat. But that doesn’t make sense right now.”
“I just want you to be happy,” Ali cries. “But I hate that it’s at our expense. Playing soccer is my favorite thing, and you’re my favorite person. I’ve gotten to have those things together for the past three years, and I don’t know how I’m going to let that go.”
“Hey,” Ashlyn says softly, lifting Ali’s chin so she’s looking at her. “You’ll never have to let that go. Long after all of this is over, you’ll still have me. On Saturday mornings we’ll watch the Premier League with our kids before taking them to their soccer games that you’ll probably coach while I bring snacks. And wherever we live, we’ll get NWSL season tickets and take our kids to all of those games so they’ll grow up watching even more badass women play than just their mommy.”
“Mommies,” Ali corrects, sniffling. “You’re pretty badass too.”
“Yeah, I was talking about me, did you think I was talking about you?” Ashlyn jokes, smirking. “We don’t have to figure any of this out tonight. I know this is a lot to think about all at once.”
“I just didn’t anticipate this was something we’d have to worry about now,” Ali says. “I always thought if something were to make us stop playing together it would be some trade at worst and having a baby at best. And I thought maybe we could beat the trade chances by having a baby first.”
“Still on the table,” Ashlyn teases, kissing her on the cheek. “Knock me up and Orlando won’t want me anymore.”
“‘Kay, so we have an Olympic gold to win first,” Ali retorts, rolling her eyes. “But if you’re saying I just have to get through one season without you in order for you to put a ring on it, I think I can manage. Come to think of it, I’ve seen Alex’s ring. Maybe it would do you some good to get some help from Serv when you’re shopping.”
Ashlyn laughs. “Noted.”