“I love you too, Jackson Jennings.” Elliot smiled and leaned his head on Jackson’s shoulder as their family and friends returned to their meals.
When everything had quieted and the others had made their way back to their respective hotels, Jackson held Elliot’s hand as they walked to the Olympic Village, keeping contact with each other even as they passed members of the press. They hobbled slightly as their recovering muscles protested every step, but they still managed to match each other, stride for stride.
Epilogue
London, April, 8 months later
The press in the lead-up to the London Marathon had been absolutely mad. Jackson had never experienced anything like it in his career. The drama of the Olympics and their own relationship reveal had thrown Elliot and Jackson into a sort of celebrity-adjacent status neither of them was entirely comfortable with. Though if he were honest, Jackson had to admit it had done wonders for their bank accounts.
Of course, much had been made of the drama at the Olympics. Elliot's name was on everyone's lips. A top-eight finish after coming in as an alternate following a well-publicised injury? Well, suffice to say, there was a lot of talk about what he could do now that he was truly fully recovered. His new agent, Sue, was making the most of the hype, having scored a bumper brand deal for the first client on her roster that had proven they’d both made the right choice when he’d asked her to leave his father’s company and represent him.
Elliot’s father hadn’t retired, but he had reduced his client roster—partly by choice, and partly in the wake of the highly publicised scandal around Chris’s ban and subsequentbreakdown. Jackson knew Carl was still trying to help the kid, though. He’d even roped in Elliot’s total genius of a cousin to work on getting his ban reduced on some kind of technicality that Jackson frankly, didn’t understand.
Jackson had been for dinner with the Owens’s once a month since August. He could see the cracks that remained in the relationship between Elliot and his family. Still, they were working hard to mend them, even attending family therapy sessions to work through the distrust that had festered over the previous decade. Carl in particular was showing them everyday that he was ready to be the ally Elliot needed him to be, not just with words, but actions.
London was approaching. It was the first race Elliot and Jackson would compete in together since the Olympics, and there was a fair bit of speculation around whether their relationship could survive the rivalry. They read the articles together, laughing in bed at headlines portraying the London meet-up as a grudge match, as if they were boxers or something, ready to throw down at any given second.
Elliot didn’t treat him any differently in private until the night before the race, when he loudly declared that they needed to sleep apart from each other to get in the right headspace. He sent Jackson to his parents' place while he stayed in the flat they now shared, just half an hour away in Loughborough; the one they’d rented together when Jackson had lamented being so far away from his family.
Now that his dad was doing better—though not healed; his condition was for life—Jackson didn’t want to waste a single moment. Besides, Noah loved having his favourite uncles around, and Anna appreciated the free babysitting from Uncle Elly.
Though it was a sensible decision to stay apart, it only lasted about two hours before Jackson was sneaking back into theflat, though not as quietly as he’d intended. He unlocked the door and smiled sheepishly when he saw Elliot dithering in the corridor, clearly about to make the same decision he had. He followed Elliot into their room, where they kissed on the bed until they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Elliot was being shifty again the next morning, but Jackson put it down to pre-race weirdness. With a kiss and a soft “See you at the start line,” Jackson watched Elliot leave, hours before the race, off to start his ridiculous pre-race warm-up routine while Jackson caught another hour of sleep.
The elite field was stacked. London was always a fast race, and everyone was gunning for PBs. It felt like a corral full of runners with something to prove. Jackson shoved his way towards the front, admitting that he should be there next to Darius and Elliot rather than in the middle of the pack where he always told himself he belonged.
He grinned at them both as they took their positions.
“I’ll wait for you at the finish, Princess,” he said to Elliot just before the gun went off.
“The fuck you will, Jennings.”
And then it was on. Darius took and held an early lead. He was gunning for a sub-two-hour time, which, years ago, everyone had thought was unthinkable, but the barrier had been broken before, and Darius was determined to be the first to do it in a fully sanctioned event.
Jackson settled into his race plan, drafting Darius and keeping ahead of Elliot for as long as he could.
It was bloody fun.
None of the other runners on the course mattered to him today; he was racing against his boyfriend and his best friend onone of his favourite routes, and he had very fucking big plans for the finish line.
Jackson’s legs were burning as they entered the home stretch. He felt almost euphoric, though, even better than he had at the Olympics. Elliot had caught up to him again, and they were neck and neck. He could practically hear the announcer's voice in his head,A thrilling race for second place. It would have held more weight for the spectators if Darius hadn’t already split the damn tape, but to Jackson, this was the race of his life.
He surged past Elliot again, only to be passed seconds later as Elliot launched into an all-out sprint for the finish line. It took Jackson half a second to kick his speed up again, and he knew that had cost him. Elliot crossed just milliseconds before him and turned to him with a grin so massive Jackson kind of felt like he’d won first place after all. Then Elliot swept him into a kiss, to the cheers and jeers of all the spectators around them, and Jackson’s heart exploded with affection. He was so fucking ready to spend the rest of his life with this man.
He tugged him off to the side, clearing space for the runners finishing behind them, and looked into his eyes before fumbling with the tiny zip pocket in his shorts and dropping to one knee in front of him.
“Jackson, what are you doing?”
Jackson grinned, but Elliot had a strange look in his eyes.
“Seriously, get up.”
Maybe he’d read things wrong, he’d thought after that kiss, after all the press they’d weathered together this year, that the public setting wouldn’t bother him, but he should’ve done this in private. He awkwardly tried to stand back up, but his leg muscles were protesting, and now Elliot was kneeling down next to him, a wide grin on his face.
“I won, so I get to ask first.”
Jackson laughed. “Is that how it works, then?”
