you’re mid-stretch when you feel the light bump of his shoulder against yours.

same as always.

“good luck, captain,” wes murmurs, voice low and rough from warm-ups.

you tried to hide your grin as you adjust your shoelace. “you ready?”

he shrugs. “almost.”

you frown, glance up. “almost?” but he just stands there, arms crossed, watching you like he’s waiting for something.

you raise an eyebrow. “what?”

his lips twitch, smug. “you didn’t say it.”

“…say what?”

he leans in, cocky and quiet. “you know what.”

you narrow your eyes but he just grins. “you know my rule.”

“you’re making it a rule now?”

“superstition,” he shrugs. “can’t play till you say it.”

you sigh, shoulders slumping. “you are so annoying.”

but the corners of your mouth is turns into a smile as you turn to face him fully.

his cheeks flushed from warmup laps. and yet, still annoyingly smug.

you nudge his arm back with yours. “good luck, captain.”

his smirk softens into something almost shy. something real. “now we’re ready,” he says quietly.

and then, he jogs onto the field like nothing happened, leaving you flushed.