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Thanks again to those in the Writing Corner for helping with this story. (Interested in joining us? You can find it here: https://t.me/joinchat/CPoeZhclggenrOEh0yYwvg )

It's the Brumbies' first game of the season and our favourite canine couple are excited for the long season ahead.

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"That'll be breakfast," said Robbo from on top of Michael on the hotel room's couch as a knock came from the door. Michael squirmed from underneath the dingo and dashed into the bedroom ,throwing a pair of pants out of the door for Robbo to put on.

Michael bounced back into the living room, trying to get his own pants on. He lounged on the couch,focusing too intently on the TV. Robbo slipped on the pants he was thrown and opened the door for the waitress. The calico feline set their breakfast, poached eggs on sourdough toast with coffee, on the table and made eye contact with Michael.

She quickly looked away and turned to Robbo, "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thanks. That'll be all," said Robbo as he opened the door for the waitress.

"Please enjoy, and if there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to call. You can just press number one on your phone to reach the front desk." recited the cat before making her way out of the room.

When they sat at the small table to eat Michael asked, "You think she-?"

"Oh yeah. She knew." Robbo said in his cup of coffee and added. "Damn, this coffee's pretty good."

"Speak for yourself. Shit tastes like dirt." said Michael sliding his coffee to the dingo, who gladly took it, and dug into the eggs and toast. Michael ate while looking at articles and news of the other teams on his phone.

"You don't like the eggs either?" asked Robbo when Michael's brow furrowed at his screen.

Michael looked up from his phone, confused, "What? Oh no, tastes great. It's just that the Bengals absolutely thrashed the Drovers. They usually put up more of a fight."

Robbo sipped his coffee and dismissed the canine's concerns, "It was just the one game."

"It was fourteen to thirty-two and they have a new hooker, props and flankers. Unless it was a fluke, they shouldn't have done so well with new players unless they were really good."

Robbo reassured Michael, "There's plenty of other teams they have to get through. They'll get knocked out of the running before they face us. Like I said, it was probably just a fluke."

"I'm the one that mentioned 'fluke'," said Michael.

With a mouth full of food, Robbo replied, "But I was the one who said it was just the one game. So it still counts."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Michael chastised before taking another bite.

Both canines looked away mid-chew from their breakfast as another knock came from the hotel door.

"You two better be dressed or we're leaving you behind," said Coach from the other side of the door. It was their first game of the season against the Gold Coast Olympians. Both canines quickly wolfed down their breakfast.

"I thought we had more time," Michael said through a mouthful of food.

"You just had to have a quickie" Robbo muttered as he put a shirt on.

"You started it!" complained Michael and slapped the dingo on the arm on his way out the door.

"I was just putting my jock on," said Robbo as he followed behind.

Michael pressed the button for the elevator and turned to look at Robbo, "In my face?!"

"We really don't need to know that," grumbled Ray as he walked past the pair and into the elevator.

"And we didn't need to hear you and Sally last night," Robbo said referring to the female border collie that Ray had started dating.

"Consider it payback for last time," Ray shot back as the doors closed.

Robbo pushed the ground floor's button, "Ah, yes. Last time. That was several months ago. Isn't that right, Bl-?"

"Don't drag me into this." said Michael, feeling uncomfortable from being reminded of all the things they heard the night before and kept his eyes glued to the elevator doors.

Robbo continued without backup from his boyfriend, "And it was only the one time. You two fuck more than we do."

The doors opened, and Michael gratefully darted out into the lobby and helped Coach herd them into the bus. Once they exited the hotel the team was flooded by screams for attention by dozens of fans, the fans closest to the hotel entrance clamouring for pictures and autographs. The team lapped the attention up and many ignored the security keeping the fans back and granted them what they wanted. Robbo gladly gave pictures and autographs to a large number of male fans wanting his attention. Michael lingered near him, glaring at the fans who looked like they wanted more than just a photo or autograph from the oblivious dingo.

Eventually, the team was corralled into the bus. They were rowdy for the entire ride to the stadium, pumped up by the fans' excitement, and eager to get into the game. Coach and Michael both eventually gave up trying to calm them down on the bus and rode out the rest of the journey to the stadium in annoyed silence.

The fan gathering at the stadium was even larger than at the hotel, but the staff entrance was barred off from them and could only stand at the barricades and scream and wave as the team unloaded from the bus. The team waved to the fans as they entered the stadium.

When Charlie and Randal got off the bus they posed for the fans going into different flexing poses as their photos were taken. Coach waited a couple moments behind them before he grabbed them both by the horns and dragged them away.

Michael followed behind with the bag of jerseys to the locker room. The team was already in the middle of stripping as Michael entered. He handed out the gold coloured away jerseys, and tossed Robbo's into his face who threw his shirt into Michael's at the same time.

He handed out the last when he overheard David and Ray talking about the West Bengals' new Hooker. The grey kangaroo adjusted his tail in his shorts as he told the border collie, "That horse is fucking huge. He's bigger than Charlie."

"Yeah, the fucker's a purebred clydesdale. I'm surprised he wasn't picked up sooner," said Ray as the pair walked to the locker room's exit, ready to head onto the field. Michael stayed behind to clean up and organise the mess the team made of the locker room.

After he finished cleaning up Michael rushed out of the locker room and met up with the team as they were about to head out onto the field. He took a deep breath, his heart in his throat as the team ran out onto the field to the roar of the stadium. He stayed back at the side lines at his station to look after the players during the game.

The Olympians won the coin flip and chose to kick off. The kicker, a snow white dingo, adjusted his navy blue uniform, and lined up the kick. He took a deep breath and ran for the ball, his foot connecting and sending it flying. It flew over the forty metre line, the thirty metre line.

Halfway to the twenty metre line, keeping his eye on the ball, Alex ran back and leapt for it and caught to the cheer of the crowd. He ran with it, taking the ball to the forty metre line before he passed it behind him to the scrum half, a wombat, who then passed it to David. David took it past the fifty metre line, shrugging off an attempted tackle by the Olympians' own Fly-half before being taken down by their Inside-Centre.

David picked himself up and rolled the ball back to Ray who risked passing the ball past the Outside-Centre straight to Robbo. He immediately took off with it, blowing past the Olympians' Loosehead Prop and Number 4 but was taken down by the Blindside Flanker at the thirty metre line.

Robbo punched the ground before he got up and rolled the ball back to a teammate who passed it to Ray. The border collie didn't even make it to the twenty metre line being tackled. Both teams fought back and forth to a standstill that lasted for fifteen minutes of the game. Both teams pushed into the other's side of the field trying to score a try but neither succeeding.

It seemed to Michael that it would stay like that for a while so he paid more attention to the team's reserve players and his station. Though he kept an ear out for the crowd behind him.

He could tell the Brumbies had the ball in their possession whenever the cry of the fans in the stands would become more excited. When the fans' cries became ecstatic he looked up to see Robbo storming down the field with the ball. He joined in with the fans and cheered him on, clapping as the dingo got closer and closer to the goal line. Robbo made it past the ten metre line when the Olympians' Left Wing, a Tasmanian devil, who was struggling to catch up with the dingo dove for his feet. He hooked an arm around hisRobbo's ankle and sent the dingo tumbling over the sideline.

Michael groaned and turned back to his work, taking an empty bottle from a reserve and refilling it. The bottle wasn't even a third full when Michael's attention was grabbed by the murmuring of the fans and reserve players. He looked up from the bottle right as Coach spoke up.

"Michael," warned the horse.

"I see it," Michael said, as a pit formed in his stomach when he saw Robbo trying to get up from the ground but dropped down to one knee, his face twisted in pain and hand clutching an ankle.

Michael was running before he even knew it. The Tasmanian devil that tackled him had already helped Robbo up before passing the dingo to Michael to support the dingo's weight before Coach caught up with them and guided them to the locker room.

Coach left Robbo in the changing area of the locker room and left for the field for the game to continue, leaving the dingo in the care of Michael and the doctor.

"It's not too bad is it?" Robbo asked, cringing as the doctor, a grey lop-eared rabbit with tied back ears, inspected the dingo's foot paw.

The doctor shook his head and gently set the paw down on a stool, letting Michael carefully strap an ice bag to the foot paw. "It's just a sprain," said the doctor.

"I can still play, right?" Robbo asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Not this game," said the doctor, shaking his head again before continuing, "But if you keep your weight off it and get plenty of rest you should be fine for the next game."

"It's just a sprain," said Michael as he handed Robbo some crutches and the doctor made his way out, "No need to get your knickers in a twist."

Robbo snatched the crutches, "What if it was career ending?"

"But it wasn't," Michael said, pulling his hand back and glaring at the upset dingo.

"But what if it was?" Snapped Robbo, standing up with crutches and keeping his paw off the ground, "What then?"

"Then you'll get a job somewhere else in the league," Michael said, getting annoyed by the unnecessarily angered dingo, "A presenter, a physical therapist, a _coach. _You're certainly qualified to become one and you have the connections."

"It's not that simple!" yelled Robbo making Michael step back.

"Don't yell at me!" Michael snapped back and jabbed a finger in Robbo's chest, "Is your life so centred around playing rugby that you can't imagine your life without it?"

"At least I'm actually fucking good at it and don't need to live my dream through others!" snarled Robbo, jabbing the kelpie back.

Michael stepped back, shocked and with tears starting to sting his eyes.

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Robbo's face fell, "No, I didn't-"

Michael refused to hear it. He stormed past the dingo and out of the locker room, ignoring Robbo's calls for him.

***

Michael sat in the hotel's bar and stared into the second Old Fashioned cocktail the bartender had made for him after he and the team returned from the game. The Brumbies won at twenty-eight to twenty-four but Michael and Robbo didn't join in on the celebrations. Michael avoided him and headed straight to the bar and Robbo to their hotel room.

Michael swallowed the last of the cocktail and swayed slightly in his stool. There wasn't much to drink in his glass, with it being mainly made up of large chunks of ice. But what little drink there was was plenty strong enough to help dull the sting of the insult the dingo threw at him.

He went to order a third when Alex sat onto a stool next to Michael and stopped him, "You've had enough."

Michael suppressed a squeaking hiccough and, without looking back at the red kangaroo, replied, "I've only had two."

Alex made a 'cut it' gesture to the bartender when Michael tried to order a drink again, "You ordered one the strongest drinks this hotel has. How you haven't been knocked on your arse already is beyond me."

"What do you want?" Michael asked as he picked the orange peel from the glass and made Alex cringe when he started chewing the ice.

"It's about why Robbo got so pissed when you brushed off his injury," answered Alex as he picked at a bowl of peanuts.

Michael slammed the glass down, "It was a sprain."

Alex groaned, "It's more than that. He's scared about not knowing what to do after he retires. Forced or willingly."

"And I told him there's plenty of jobs in the league for when he retires." Michael said, exasperated, feeling like he was repeating himself.

"That's the problem," sighed Alex, as he rolled a peanut between his fingers, "There aren't."

Michael turned on his stool and looked at Alex incredulously, "What?"

"You remember why Robbo didn't originally want to come out?" Alex asked.

"He was scared that the higher-ups were going to keep him from joining the team," Michael said before throwing a hand up, "But he came out and nothing happened. At the press conference after the game executives were praising him and shaking his hand."

"They were forced to do that," Alex said, stopping when Michael went to speak up. The kelpie thought better of it and let Alex continue. "He humiliated them and forced their hand. They couldn't kick him off the team, they'd get too much flack for it. But what they could do is keep him from any jobs after he retires from playing."

Michael was shocked, he couldn't believe it was true, "They can't do that."

Alex nodded, "They can and will."

Michael was confused, "How? You just said they'd get too much flack for it."

"If they were open about it they would," responded Alex, "They'll be underhanded about it. They'll just pass him up for any jobs, saying that their hire was more qualified for the job or some other crap they'll pull out of their arse. And if he ever tries to call them out, they'll use their connections in the media to drag his name through the mud. Making him seem like the kind of person who uses their sexuality to get attention."

Michael hid his face in his hands and groaned, "Playing for the Brumbies was his dream. What's he going to do when he retires if he can't work for the team somehow?"

Alex shrugged, "You know what I think? Fuck the League. I'm not getting a job in it after I retire. I'm going to coach at a sport's club and Nikki's going to try and open his own sport's store."

"His own store?" asked Michael, "How's he going to compete with the big name stores?"

"He isn't," Alex said before his brow furrowed in confusion, "I think. He said something about opening his own store but it being a big name store. Something called a 'franchisee'"

"A what?" Michael asked.

Alex snorted a laugh, "I have no fucking clue. But he seems to know plenty about it."

"He never struck me as the business type," Said Michael.

"You'll be surprised what you'll learn about someone if you just ask them," Alex said as he looked at Michael expectantly, tapping his fingers on the bar.

Michael spun around to snarl at the kangaroo but immediately recoiled back and tucked his tail when Alex shot him a glare. It was a similar glare that Coach gave Randall after Charlie's spear tackle the season prior. It made Michael feel like he was a little pup again after his mum caught him doing something wrong.

He squirmed under the kangaroo's gaze until he could no longer take it. "Ugh, fine," he growled, and begrudgingly stood up from his stool, stumbling slightly from the alcohol.

Alex quickly caught the drunk canine, "You need any help?"

"No, I'm fine," Michael said, batting the kangaroo away and walking out of the bar and to his room.

He waited for the elevator doors to open and wished he could take back everything he said to Robbo and had just asked what was wrong with him. The doors dinged open and he walked in without looking and bumped into someone, stumbling easily in his drunken state.

"Oh! Sorry, didn't see ya," said the person, steadying Michael. It was a Tasmanian devil, the same that tackled Robbo.

Outside the game Michael found that the Olympians' Left Wing was surprisingly soft spoken and timid. Nothing like the athletes the kelpie had gotten used to from working for the Brumbies. "It's fine. I wasn't paying attention," Michael said walking past the black marsupial but held the elevator doors open, "What are you doing here?"

The marsupial nervously cleared his throat, "I was, uh, making sure Robert was okay and to apologize. I didn't mean to rough him up so bad when I ankle tapped him."

"Name's Chael by the way," said the Left Wing, offering his hand to Michael.

Michael's eyes narrowed, looking at Chael's hand and back to the marsupial's face..

"Oh! No, nonono," said Chael, waving his hands, "I didn't make any moves on him. I have a wife."

Michael relaxed and shook his hand, gave him a nod of thanks and let go of the doors, letting them close.

But Chael stopped the doors, looking uncomfortable, "He has a lot on his mind. He didn't mean it." He let go of the doors and they closed, leaving the canine alone in the elevator with his thoughts.

Michael left the elevator and supported himself against the hallway's wall. Not feeling sturdy enough on his legs from the drinks.

Michael stood outside his hotel room door and tested the door. It was unlocked. He let himself in, the living room was empty but he knew Robbo was somewhere. The TV was on and the bedroom door was closed.

He softly knocked on the door and opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words and didn't want to open the door. He waited several moments and started knocking again when the door opened.

Robbo stood in the doorway, leaning on a crutch and kept his bandaged footpaw off the ground. He looked down at Michael with red, bloodshot eyes and said only, "You're drunk.".

Michael couldn't bring himself to look the dingo in the eyes nor say anything. He only rested his head on the larger canine's chest and hugged him. Robbo stumbled back a bit before he he brought cream furred hand around and rubbed his back. Michael couldn't stop himself and started sobbing into Robbo's shirt, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay. It's okay," muttered Robbo as he gently rubbed the sobbing kelpie's back.

"I ruined your life," Michael sobbed..

"What?!" asked Robbo, shocked, and pulled the smaller, weeping canine from his chest. "No. Far from it. Why would you think that?"

Michael sniffed and wiped his eyes, and hiccoughed, "Playing for the Brumbies is your dream and now you can't work for them when you retire."

"And that's the higher ups' fault, not yours," Robbo said as he hobbled over to the bed and sat down, propping his bandaged foot paw on a pillow at the end of the bed.

Michael followed, swaying slightly before he reached the bed himself. He sat down next to Robbo and told him, "But last year back in Canberra-"

Robbo cut the sulking kelpie with a groan, "You still think you forced me out? Why would you still...?" Robbo trailed off with a look of realisation. "Nikki told you about how Dale and I broke up, didn't he?"

"Is that the wallaby's name?" asked Michael.

"So he did tell you," sighed Robbo. He leaned over and pulled the drunk, moping kelpie into a cuddle, "Look, Bluey. To keep working for the team after retirement I would've had to stay in the closet and lie about who I was," Robbo put a finger under Michael's chin and pulled his head up to look him in the eyes, "And who I loved. No career is worth doing that. So please, stop blaming yourself."

"But that still doesn't answer what you're going to do after you retire. Cause like you said, what if it was a career ending injury?" asked Michael as he lowered his head onto the dingo's chest and listened to his breathing, thinking.

After several moments Michael thought of an idea, "You said that the higher ups are blocking you from getting a job and they won't step down for a long time."

"Don't remind me."

"What if you get a job where you can scout out promising talent who are also not complete backwards shitheads?" Michael asked, looking up from the dingo's chest.

"Talent scouts work for the League," Robbo told him.

"I know, but what if you worked in a field where you could put that talent in a scouts way." Michael sat up, bouncing on the bed slightly in excitement. "A high school PE teacher."

"How exactly would being a PE teacher put them in a talent scout's way? They scout out sport's clubs for talent, not high schools."

"Yes but you could encourage the kids who aren't complete shitheads to go to try outs at sports clubs. Alex does want to become a minor league coach at one after all."

Robbo pondered it for a moment before replying, "I'll think about it. In the meantime I think it's about time to get another ice pack."

He grabbed his crutch and started trying to get out of the bed but Michael got up and stopped him. "Let me get it. I'm not so drunk that I can't do it for you and it is my job after all."

Robbo followed behind him anyway and sat down on the couch in front of the TV, and gingerly rested his foot paw on the coffee table.

Michael smirked as he filled a bag with ice, "And you get up Alex for doing the same."

"I need to keep my foot raised," complained Robbo before adding, "And the table at home is made of glass. I don't want his big arse feet slamming down on it."

"Excuses, excuses," Michael tutted and gently put the ice pack on Robbo's foot which got a sigh of relief from the dingo. Sitting next to Robbo he hiccoughed and laid his head on his shoulder, "Those cocktails I had were pretty strong. I'm not going to remember any of this am I?"

"You're not molesting me so you probably will remember." teased Robbo.

Michael responded with a joking jab into Robbo's side. Robbo drew in a quick breath and rubbed his side, "Okay, careful. I know you meant to do that softly but it was actually pretty hard."

"Shit, sorry," Michael quickly apologised and sat up rubbing his boyfriend's side.

"It's okay," Robbo said reassuringly, bringing the kelpie back against him and pat his shoulder, "Just don't get me benched for the entire season."

"Can't have that or I'll be stuck with you otherwise and then I'll never hear the end of it."

Robbo put his arm around Michael's shoulder and chuckled, "You're stuck with me anyway."

"Yay," Michael said as he rolled his eyes with a smile.