Chapter Text
3rd July
It's that time of the year again and Britain is basking in unusually good weather as Wimbledon prepares to open its gates for its annual championship. For once though, it's not the men's singles that are drawing the biggest crowds. With the news that the long-retired Jaime Lannister is dusting off his racket to play one last tournament with his protegé and former fellow world number one, Loras Tyrell, tickets for the men's doubles have been spotted on resale sites for up to six times their face value, despite tournament organisers forbidding the transfer of tickets.
It’s perhaps no surprise. In his heyday, Jaime Lannister was the best of the best, with legions of fans worldwide, many of whom were responsible for voting him People’s sexiest man three years in a row. It’s been over twenty years now since those fans have seen him play, and yet the British player’s popularity has never waned. He made waves returning to centre court fifteen years ago, coaching the then up-and-coming Loras Tyrell, and whilst openly volatile at times, the pair’s relationship has proved to be career-long. It’s no wonder perhaps then that Tyrell has been able to convince his coach to don his Wimbledon whites one last time as he nears his own retirement.
It’s clear already that the duo are going to be a force to be reckoned with, and yet the jury remains out as to whether Lannister and Tyrell actually have a shot at taking home the trophy. Bookmakers likewise remain split, with varying odds being offered by all of Britain’s most-used betting sites. We spoke to our sports expert to give us his verdict:
“Nobody can deny that both Lannister and Tyrell are exceptionally talented, but the passage of time is going to be hard to overcome all the same. At thirty-seven, Tyrell would usually be considered an older player himself, and yet next to Lannister, he will be a picture of youth. He’s going to have to do a lot of compensating for his fifty-one-year-old partner, for whilst Lannister has no doubt kept up his fitness to some extent coaching, he’s likely forgotten the gruelling pace of a match that goes to five sets. Concerns too have to be raised about his hand. It was the injury that ended his career, and whilst reports suggest that surgery has given him back some use of it, one would expect to see him playing left-handed. Using one’s non-dominant hand is a skill that is quite possible to learn when given enough time, but it will be hard for him all the same to generate enough power to have a competitive serve, particularly at his advanced age.”
With the tournament kicking off today though, fans will not have long to wait to find out how the infamous duo fare.
Unsurprisingly, Loras rose early. He’d clearly done his best to be silent and yet his attempts had been in vain. Renly had found that he stirred almost as soon as Loras got out of bed and by the time that Loras had gone in the shower, he was wide awake and scrolling on his phone. As he would have expected, Loras featured in a lot of the articles linked by his newsfeed and Renly rather enjoyed flicking through them idly. There was something satisfying about seeing pictures of Loras online, particularly when they chose especially flattering ones where Loras looked good enough to eat with a spoon, and it was always rather nice to be able to remind himself that that was his husband.
That thought was particularly enjoyable when Loras emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist and Renly propped himself up to get a better view. “Come back to bed,” he suggested with a smile, opening his arms to try and entice him back.
Loras shook his head, wet hair flying everywhere. “I can’t,” he said regretfully. “I’m meeting Jaime in an hour to go through last-minute strategy.”
Renly rolled his eyes. “An hour is a long time away,” he insisted. He tugged idly on Loras’ towel as he passed, grinning as it unravelled from around his waist. “You and Jaime have been going over strategy for months. Indulge me for a few minutes at least?”
Loras smiled. “We’ll see.” He didn’t seem to care that he’d lost his towel and he padded over completely naked to the window where he’d laid out his clothes for the day on a chair. As one would have expected, everything was white, right down to the boxers, and Renly sighed contentedly as he watched him dress. He imagined that the hordes of women who had left countless thirsty comments on every article mentioning him would have spontaneously combusted in excitement if they’d had the view he was currently enjoying.
“I always forget how hot you look in white,” Renly said, admiring the muscles in Loras’ chest as he bent down to pull on pristinely white socks.
Loras raised an eyebrow, spoiling his view as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. “I thought I Iooked hot in every colour?”
“You do,” Renly laughed. He looked him up and down. “But particularly so in white.”
That made Loras smile properly, his eyes dancing. Renly wasn’t surprised. Flattery always worked on Loras and he congratulated himself on a job well done as Loras crossed the room, pulled back the covers and climbed back in beside him. He was still slightly damp from the shower and yet Renly pulled him close all the same. He smelt of coconut and whatever else was in the extraordinarily expensive shampoo that he used for his hair and Renly smiled as he looped his arms around his neck.
“There’s a lot of articles about you and Jaime online this morning,” Renly sighed into his hair. “Regardless of whether you win or not, it should be good advertising for your new venture at least.”
Loras laughed. “Good,” he said, leaning his forehead against Renly’s shoulder. “I’ll probably need all the help I can get once my first clients realise that I’ve got the patience of a particularly aggressive pitbull.”
Renly grinned. “Don’t say that.” He scratched his head as he tried to think of some evidence to back up his point. “Remember, you gave Tommen lessons for a while. Much to my sister-in-law’s disgust. He said that you were a good teacher.”
Loras snorted. “And I seem to remember you expressing an awful lot of surprise at the time…”
“I did,” Renly admitted. If he remembered correctly, he’d even been quite vocal about it, much to Loras’ irritation and Jaime’s amusement. “I mean, you’re so hot headed.”
Loras shrugged. “Yes, but I usually like to spare children from my temper.”
Renly grinned. “And me,” he said. “It’s very rare nowadays that I end up on the receiving end of your temper.”
Loras looked amused. “But it does happen.”
Renly just hummed, pulling him closer. He’d taken the next fortnight off work and he reckoned that this was his favourite time of the day, when he didn’t have to imminently get up and Loras was still curled up in his arms. He was looking forward to Wimbledon, especially when it was the final one he’d attend as the partner of a competing player, but there was something reassuringly calm about these last few minutes of quiet.
Wimbledon was crowded already when Renly joined Brienne courtside. She hadn’t taken their seats in the stands yet and Renly smiled to see that she’d been incorporated into Jaime and Loras’ pre-match huddle. Neither Jaime or Loras liked taking advice from anyone - particularly so from each other - and yet Brienne’s gentle reminders and tips were generally tolerated well enough by the both of them. Right now, she was clucking over both of them like a mother hen, seeing as all four of her actual children were in school, and Renly could see why as soon as he got closer.
“God,” Renly laughed, patting Jaime on the arm as he grinned. “Just look at the pair of you. Between Loras in the knee brace and you in the wrist brace, I reckon they’ll need a whole doctor’s surgery on standby.” He gave him a wink. “And preferably the address of the nearest nursing home too.”
Jaime merely flicked his blond hair off his face. “If you say so.” He looked scathingly at the drink in Renly’s hand. “I see you’re already on the pimms at the grand old time of ten-thirty.”
Renly just raised his glass to him. “It’s Wimbledon,” he said simply. “I’ll be drunk by midday. But in a socially respectable way.”
Jaime rolled his eyes. “Every year, you get more and more like Robert.”
Renly snorted. “That is a lie,” he said. “I’m on holiday. It doesn’t count as being like Robert until I show up to work drunk. Or until I get so hammered one evening that I need to pop a pill to get it up.”
Loras smirked up at him, pulling away from Brienne’s fussing from the velcro strap around his knee. “He’s right, Jaime. Neither of those things have happened yet.” He gave Renly a rather smug high five. "Particularly that last one."
Jaime grimaced. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life.” He stretched out his hand gingerly. “I have enough things to worry about today without feeling nauseous as well.”
As if on cue, Brienne took Jaime’s wrist gently, checking that the brace was securely fastened now that she’d finished with Loras. “So how’s it feeling?” she asked.
Jaime shrugged. “It’s alright,” he said. He opened and closed his fist to test its strength. “I’ll use my left as much as possible for the first few rounds though. They should be piss easy.”
Loras snorted next to him. “You can say that again. I mean, if you want, just have a little sit down once the serves are out of the way and let me handle it.”
Renly had assumed that he was joking but Jaime just shrugged. “Could do, I suppose.” He glanced at the surprise on Renly’s face. “What? The first few rounds are going to be a walk in the park. Either me or Loras could beat most of our first opponents blindfolded whilst taking a piss.”
Renly made a face at that image. “Well, please don’t. It might spoil my appetite for strawberries and cream later.”
Brienne ignored him and turned to Jaime and Loras. “You’d best both go get ready,” she said, glancing at her watch to see the time. “And promise me that you’ll at least try to behave with each other on the court?”
Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Why? The media love it when I put him in his place.”
Brienne’s eyes widened as she chastised him wordlessly. “Yes,” she agreed. “But I imagine that Loras doesn’t.”
Jaime just grinned at her. “Sure he does. Secretly.”
Brienne looked exasperated. “I really don’t think he does.”
“I don’t,” Loras agreed. He stretched his arms lazily behind his head. “In fact, it makes me so angry that sometimes I want to strangle you.”
Personally though, Renly had to wonder whether Jaime was right. Loras liked to grumble constantly about Jaime's criticism but he almost always took it on board at the end of the day. It was very reluctantly and exceedingly grudgingly, but the advice almost always got followed.
The same seemed to be true right now and Renly just smiled to himself as he watched Loras roll his eyes at whatever Jaime was telling him.
Jaime and Loras had offered to get them seats in one of the coveted boxes and yet Renly and Brienne had declined. There was something contagious about the atmosphere in the stands and Renly was on his third glass of Pimms by the time the commentator announced that the first doubles matches were about to start. Jaime and Loras were paired against a very low ranked duo from the Netherlands and they seemed to be in good spirits from what Renly could see, the two of them laughing and joking now as they made their final preparations. Indeed, if they viewed their opponents as any decent competition at all, it wasn't obvious.
“They’ll definitely win this one, won’t they?” Renly asked Brienne next to him, taking a sip of a drink that was mainly ice now. “I know Jaime is practically geriatric, but their injuries aren’t that bad, right?”
“Loras at least will be fine,” Brienne told him confidently. “His knee is bearing weight perfectly well again.” She sighed softly, pushing her blond hair off her face and tucking the strands behind her ears. “Jaime will depend. He needs to play mainly with his non-dominant hand if he’s going to get through the next two weeks without injuring himself further. And he knows that. But you know what the temptation is like when you’re running to a point.”
Renly grinned. “Do I?”
Brienne shook her head in exasperation. “Well surely you can imagine?”
Renly just laughed. “I suppose.”
Loras caught his eye then and Renly grinned as he gave him a small wave from the court down below. The tiny gesture caused an avalanche of camera flashes that almost blinded him and yet Renly reckoned that it would be nice to read articles later about how affectionate Loras Tyrell had been with his loving partner of fifteen years. He couldn’t help but be a little annoyed though when Jaime, clearly desperate not to be outdone, blew Brienne a rather exaggerated kiss and made her blush bright red.
Jaime turned out to be right. Over the next few days, he and Loras swept through the first few rounds with an ease that could only be applauded. Loras played near the net, a decision that Brienne explained was largely due to Jaime not having the strength in his right hand to safely return shots before they bounced and lost velocity. It seemed to be a strategy that was working for them, and it certainly prevented Jaime from actually having to play much. Loras did most of the work, whereas Jaime handled the few shots that their opponents managed to get past him, dealing with them rather lazily, as if they weren’t really worth his effort.
Renly too found that he quickly got into the swing of things. Watching Loras play was as good a way as any to spend his time off and it warmed his heart to see Loras doing something that he so clearly enjoyed again after so many months of struggle. He could tell too though that there was something different about this tournament. Loras had been very clear about the fact that it was going to be the last one and Renly could see him making the most of it for once. He’d relaxed a little compared to usual, as if he’d actually remembered that playing tennis was supposed to be fun, and he was so unperturbed about his third match that he even joined Renly on the Pimms the morning before, sitting with him in the stands as they watched the third round of the men’s singles before descending to play his own game. For the fourth match, Jaime even joined them, and whilst they both denied it vehemently, Renly could have sworn that both of them were a little tipsy as they started their first set.
It turned out not to matter too much though and they coasted through that match as well. The same was true for the quarter final, and annoyingly too, Renly had to admit that Jamie was quickly proving his critics wrong. They’d progressed to opponents who even Loras and Jaime admitted were skilled, and it required both of them now to play at their best. Even at the ripe old age of fifty-one, Jaime was still a joy to watch. He’d been the best in the world at one point and Renly grudgingly had to concede that he was just as talented as Loras. He was less fit and his serves had none of the speed and strength that Loras’ still had, but he played with an elegance that could only be envied. Together, they made a beautiful pair and Renly imagined that straight women everywhere were no doubt fanning themselves as they watched.
“They do make a really hot team, don’t they?” Renly whispered to Brienne as Jaime served for the final set in the semi finals.
The tips of Brienne’s ears went pink.
“Oh come on,” Renly laughed, passing her his half empty tub of strawberries. “Even I can admit that Jaime is still fanciable.” He watched as the opposing team volleyed the ball back, only for Loras to put it cleanly in the far corner of the court where it couldn’t be reached in time. “You’d better be careful or else Jaime will get caught up in his own hype and knock you up again.”
Brienne turned even redder. “Absolutely not,” she said.
Renly just grinned. He reckoned that if Jaime and Brienne were having even half the amount of sex that he and Loras were then that was a distinct possibility. Quite how Loras was even finding the energy to play the morning after was a mystery to him in fact and he was glad that he’d never had to worry about that pesky little problem of getting someone pregnant. He imagined that that was quite a different story for Brienne though, regardless of how iron clad her birth control was.
“No?” he teased. “Don’t fancy a fifth? Having kids in your forties is all the rage nowadays.”
Brienne took a deep breath as if she were finding him exasperated. “No,” she said. “It’s not even a possibility anymore.”
“Come on, Brienne,” Renly chuckled. “Surely you’re not that old yet?”
Brienne rolled her eyes and her eyes flicked to Jaime down on the court, busy chastising Loras for missing the last point. “No,” she whispered, dropping her breath so that their neighbours couldn’t overhear. “It’s not a possibility because Jaime got a vasectomy after the last one.”
Renly couldn’t hide his surprise and he had to let out a low whistle. Down on the court below, Jaime was playing like a man twenty years younger, and yet Renly reckoned that the biggest feat belonged to the woman sitting next to him. He wouldn’t ever have imagined Jaime Lannister to agree to such a thing.
“Did you know that Jaime had got the snip?” Renly asked idly from the sofa, once they’d got through the mountain of pasta that Loras had cooked for dinner to replenish his energy levels.
Loras’ eyes widened. “Seriously?” he laughed. “You think I’d find out something like that and not tell you?”
Renly grinned. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You might have some kind of player-coach confidentiality thing going on.”
Loras snorted. “Nope,” he said. He yawned, putting down his spoon now that he’d finished eating. “That’s the sort of thing that I’d have texted you about within minutes if Jaime had told me.” He smiled. “It’s probably why Jaime didn’t tell me in fact. He knows that everything he tells me gets back to you.”
There was something flattering about that and Renly yawned contentedly as he pulled Loras closer. He didn’t think that married couples were supposed to have secrets from each other and it was nice to know that Loras would have promptly told him any gossip. He expected that he’d have been quite put out if this had turned out in fact to not be the case and he knew that he’d have been unable to hide his displeasure if he’d learnt that Jaime and Loras’ professional partnership superseded their own romantic one.
“Hypothetically,” Renly said, “if having accidental kids was a concern for you and me, which one of us do you think would volunteer to go under the knife?”
Loras snorted. “Me,” he said. “Because the idea of you volunteering for anything involving surgery is ludicrous.”
That was probably true and yet Renly did his best to look wounded all the same. “And yet look at how well I did looking after you,” he pointed out. “I even helped you change your bandages.”
“You did,” Loras conceded. He leant his head against Renly’s shoulder. “You were very good with me.”
Renly smiled in satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around him. The final was tomorrow and yet there was something comforting about the knowledge that, win or lose, Loras would at least be satisfied that he had him to come home to.
“Are you nervous?” Renly asked the next morning, unable not to be a little anxious himself as he watched Loras eat his way through a mountain of toast.
Loras shrugged. “A bit,” he said. “But you’ve promised me pancakes followed by sex where you do absolutely all the work if we lose, which is a decent enough consolation prize.”
“Not quite tempting enough to lose on purpose though?” Renly asked, unable not to grin. He would be the first to admit that he’d gotten a little lazy in his old age. Loras was much fitter than he was, and whilst sex usually began with him putting in an admirable amount of effort, it usually ended with Loras finishing the job.
Loras just laughed. “Not quite.”
Renly helped himself to the crusts that Loras had left. “What about if I serve those pancakes naked and then bottom for you without even a suggestion that you should be grateful for it?”
Loras leant up to kiss him. “Better,” he laughed. “That will absolutely be the reason why if we end up losing .”
Renly kissed him back, rifling a hand through Loras’ hair to ruffle his curls even though Loras had spent ages this morning getting them just perfect for photographs. Not once had Loras ever begrudged him touching his hair though and he clearly didn’t intend to start now. He even smiled as Renly separated the strands, his eyes closing as he enjoyed those last few moments of peace before they needed to go.
It was through his fingers that Renly ended up watching the final. Next to him, Renly reckoned that Brienne was just as nervous as he was. She flinched every time Jaime was forced to use his right hand and she even shuddered a little when Loras landed at all heavily on his bad leg.
She was nearing frazzled by the time that the final set came and Renly couldn’t blame her. All four players seemed weary beyond belief, and yet it was clear that Jaime was flagging the most. His age was catching up with him, and he was leaning on Loras more than a little bit. Even Loras though looked like he wanted nothing more than to throw down his racket and take a nap. His face was set with determination but even Renly could see that his fitness was clearly not what it once had been. He was tiring rapidly compared to their much younger opponents, and Renly could see the frustration growing and growing.
“God,” Renly sighed, as Jaime geared himself up to serve once more below them. “Those two are going to be tired tonight whether they win or lose, aren’t they?” Somehow he thought that Loras would be too tired to have sex even if he had agreed to do all the work.
Brienne just nodded tightly. She drew in a deep breath as Jaime threw the ball up above his head and relaxed instantly when he put it neatly in the box that he was aiming for despite his weariness. “One more game,” she whispered. “That’s all they need and then both of their egos can be satisfied.”
Renly crossed his fingers and prayed to gods he didn’t believe in. Loras had told him a thousand times that he’d be fine if they lost and yet Renly wasn’t sure that would quite hold true now that they’d got this far. He imagined that Loras would curse himself for not being able to win those last few points and if he was brutally honest, he feared losing his bedroom once more to the invasion of house plants.
Indeed, he thought it was just his luck that it was Loras’ turn to serve when match point came. He knew that if Loras missed, he’d beat himself up for years to come. He expected too that Jaime would give him a piece of his mind.
He needn’t have worried though. Loras seemed to have tapped into that adrenaline-induced strength that only came near the end of a match and he put so much spin on the ball that his opponent barely managed to return it. Indeed, the poor man barely managed to get it back over the net, only for Jaime to neatly put it in the far corner with an elegance that belied his exhaustion.
It seemed to take both Loras and Jaime a few seconds to realise that that was it. They paused for a moment, rooted to the spot as the crowd erupted all around them, and then Jaime tossed his racket carelessly to the ground as if he could no longer be bothered with it. It was with delight that they both crossed to the net to shake their opponents’ hands, and then one of the officials was coming onto the court with two matching cups.
Renly let himself share in their joy. Whilst the victory was Jaime and Loras’ really, he felt as proud as if he was lifting the trophy himself. He’d seen Loras win a hundred times before and yet there was something almost nostalgic about seeing what he knew would be the last. It seemed like just yesterday that he’d been sat in the spring sunshine reading one of his university textbooks as he’d watched Loras play for the first time and he couldn’t quite understand where the years had gone. Loras barely looked any different though. His eyes were still flecked with gold and one stray curl had fallen over his face like it always did.
Even more satisfying though was the way that Loras was looking up at him from the court. He was beaming from ear to ear and it made Renly’s chest grow tight with pride. For even after more than twenty years, it was still clear that he only had eyes for him.