Chapter Text
Soap remembers being a star goalie.
The thrill that came with it. Sweat dripping down his body as he watched the ball be kicked around by the opposing team before making its way towards his net. The slap of the ball against his body stung in the best type of way. He had a promising future as teen, or so he thought. There were scouters watching the game, searching for the next big thing. And Soap tried. Tried harder than he ever had in his entire life. Then, the worst possible thing happened.
An accident. A ball flying at you was pretty normal for his position but a full grown teen wasn't. He hadn't had time to stop it before someone from the opposing team's foot had made contact with his head. A pretty nasty gash lay in its wake. Blood was dripping from his brow into his eye, causing him to need stitches. Which meant: leaving the game early. It was safe to say that after that, no scouters had approached him looking to recruit him, instead he was just the goalie that got seriously hurt during the game.
The doctors had told him it was going to scar over most likely. That's bloody fuckin' lovely. A reminder of the end of his football career for the rest of his life. So, after high school was over, he never even bothered with college. Instead, sixteen year old John Mactavish had decided to let go of that dream and instead focus on being apprenticed by his father at their family owned mechanic shop. It was six years later that he met John Price. He was an eighteen year old that had gotten used to running the shop practically by himself at that point, since da' was getting up there in age and all.
He had responsibilities. A family to help take care of. His mom needed someone to help her out with raising his younger sister, Clara, and to keep his father on his toes. Anna was off at college studying to be a doctor so there wasn’t much that he could do for her. They were struggling with money. Badly. Anna’s school was expensive. Plus, ma’ had left her job a long while back after John had been born. You see, Anna and John were less than a year apart, only nine months to be exact.
They were young when they had the two so they didn’t know too much about the fact that you could get pregnant again after just having a baby. Then, a couple months after being born is when John had gotten deathly ill. One of their family members had come by to babysit while having the flu, since they had known that his parents had limited options regarding childcare. So, little baby John had gotten it. Almost died. After that, their parents agreed that one of them staying by to watch the kids was probably the best.
As they got older, ma’ had tried to get jobs but none of them hired her due to her long lapse of unemployment. She paints whenever she can to make money. But it’s not enough. All of Soap’s money goes towards helping them pay the bills. So here he was, eighteen twenty two years old and in the mechanic shop while his father was out getting groceries for the house.
The bell rung, signaling that there was a customer. “Marcus! Can you get that?” He calls out to his younger cousin as he looks underneath the car for the issue that was causing the knocking sound near the tires. Alignment, he guessed.
There’s faint mumbling near the entrance. Then, footsteps coming near him. He groans, rolling from underneath the car to see his cousin with a confused look on his face stood over him. “What’s going on?” He asks him.
Marcus screws his eyebrows together even more, stating, “Some guy is asking for you. By name. Never seen him before in my life, though. Sounds English.”
At that, Soap mimics his expression. He rolls out from underneath fully and stands to wipe his greasy hands on his grey tank despite the cloth in his back pocket. English? By name? That’s peculiar. “Alright,” He says, “I’ll go see what that’s about. Not many Englishmen I know around this part of Scotland. Don’t get underneath that car while I’m gone, you understand? Da’ would kill me for letting a wee lad like yourself do that without supervision.”
Marcus groans, “I’m fifteen.”
“Not old enough. I’ll be back.”
He makes his way to the front, pushing open the door as he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the cloth. Standing there is an older man with the craziest beard he’s ever seen in his life. “John Mactavish?” The man asks.
Soap pauses midstep. He quickly recovers, slapping the cloth on his shoulder as he makes his way around the counter to greet the man. “Aye,” he confirms, “That’s me. Most people call me Soap.”
He sticks out his dirty hand, which the older man takes immediately. The handshake is firm but polite. He nods, “Price.”
The retract their hands. Price smiles kindly at him, the same one Soap’s father would give him when told him he was proud of him. He just grins back before cutting to the chase, “So, what brings you here, Price? Haven’t seen you around here before. Think I would remember that moustache honestly. I promise that’s a compliment, sir.”
“Then I’ll take it as one. I’m a coach for an upcoming team. One of my players, Roach, showed me one of your compilations on that app that you kids use— YouTube I think it was?— And I decided to come out here and offer your position on my team.”
Soap couldn’t believe what he was hearing. One of those shitty compilations that he had made as a younger lad actually worked? It attracted the attention of a coach? It was a dream come true. He blinked at Price before smiling widely, “Yeah?”
“Yes, son. Your blocking and your reflexes are quite impressive. I’m surprised that when I looked into you, I didn’t already see you on a team. Could’ve sworn that it was going to be a goose chase with the talent that you have.”
“Thank you, sir. You said upcoming as in?“
“It’s a new volleyball team. Not yet in the major leagues…”
His brain skirted to a stop as well as his ears, as they had stopped listening. Volleyball? No, that can’t be right. He’s never played volleyball a day in his life outside of a school gym. So why was a coach from a volleyball team coming all the way to Scotland? It’s as if God himself was laughing at him. Made him think he had a dream come true right in front of him before snatching it away with a loud cackle. “I’m sorry,” Soap cuts him off, “Volleyball. Sir, you sure you have the right guy? I’m a goalie. I play football. I’ve never played volleyball a day in my life.”
Price purses his lips at that, thinking. The man was out of his mind. There’s probably plenty of other amazing volleyball players out there that the man could recruit. So why him? He then responds, “Look, I know I’m not exactly what you’re looking for, son. But, I’m willing to try to give you something possibly better. I want you as my Libero. It’s the best defense on the team, practically the same as a goalie. Your skills will translate well to the position, I’m sure. The only difference is you just can’t let that ball hit the ground.”
“But why me?”
“You’ve got raw talent. If the football world won’t appreciate it, then it’s mine for the taking in my honest opinion. I would train you, of course. We’re hardly even a team yet. There’s only three members right now. Roach, Alex, and Farah. I’m willing to move you out to England to come train with them as I gain more members. If you’re worried about money, I’ll even set you up with a job—“
At that moment, his father walks in. He’s taller than both Soap and Price, along with a lot more intimidating. They look alike, of course. Enough to be clearly seen as father and son but the older half of them certainly is more rugged. He frowns at the two. But Price doesn’t back down, instead he extends his hand to his father greeting, “Hi, my name is John Price. I’m a coach for the 141 Volleyball Team in England. I was just talking to your son here about recruiting him onto the team as a full time player.”
“Trevor Mactavish,” His dad says, shaking it, “Volleyball? He’s never played.”
Price takes back his own hand, nodding, “Yes. I have a specific position waiting for him that’s dedicated to defense just as goalieing is. He seems like a smart boy. I think he could do it.”
“I’m not arguing with you there. Am worried about this being a scam, though. Ye lookin’ for money?”
“Absolutely not. Got plenty. Just for his talent.”
Trevor looks the man up and down calculatingly, assessing for any hints of a lie in that statement. When there’s none to be found, he switches his gaze to his son. Soap is standing there, awkwardly. His heart is telling him to follow this but his brain is informing him of all the responsibilities that lay here in Scotland.
His father answers for him, “We’ll have to think on it. Is that okay?”
“Of course, I’ll be in Scotland for three more days,” Price answers, fishing into his pocket for something. It’s a card, which he turns to hand Soap. The ladder takes it between his two fingers, flipping it to see the name and number of the lad written on it.
“No pressure, but when I leave I do hope you’ll be following me onto that train,” He smiles as Soap, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He then tilts off his hat as a goodbye, leaving out the door in which he came.
Later on, at dinner, they’re discussing it.
“I think it’s a great opportunity, John,” His mother says, mid chew.
Soap then asks, “You think?”
“Of course. It might not be what you originally wanted but at the end of the day, it’s close enough right?”
He chews on his food, contemplating it. She was right. Plus, this was the only coach that has tried to recruit him in six years. He’d long given up on the idea of being a professional sports player, not sure if it was even worth chasing anymore.
Plus, with all of their financial struggles as of late, he had to step up. But Price had offered him a job too, since the team hasn’t taken off yet. Life was about taking risks to Soap. Sometimes they have rewards. Sometimes not. But this? This could be good for him, even if it fails. What else does he really have to lose? Worse comes to worse, he’ll come back to Scotland and jump back into being the next heir to the mechanic shop.
“Your mother is right, John,” His father says, “It’s not like there’s any football players knocking on our door asking for ye. This could be your shot at becoming a professional.”
“Well, I say you take it then introduce me to all the hot teammates you’ll have,” Clara comments which earns her a glare from her mother. Soap just laughs at her antics. Seriousness floods over him again.
“So, you all think I should go for it?”
“Absolutely,” His mother states, grinning.
So the next day, he calls Price and tells him he’s in.
———
They’re walking through the station together, bags in both of their hands. Price is busy telling him about all of the current members and where they will be staying. Turns out the coach is loaded. He had a volleyball career as a youngster but lost it after an injury which Soap can certainly sympathize with. He always wanted to coach his own team but never got the chance to until he decided to make his own. That’s where they are now.
The train ride was quiet. So was the cab to his place. Soap’s mouth dropped as the gigantic mansion came into view. It was beautiful. He was kidding when he told his father that he had plenty of money. Part of him felt like he could wake up at any moment and then he’ll be back in his cozy house in Scotland. Yet, no matter how many times he pinched himself, it wouldn’t come.
The gate opens and they’re going up the long driveway. Once they get closer, Soap sees that in the doorway stands three people that look around close to his age. There’s a tall blond with a small smile on his face, a shorter brunette practically bouncing up and down, and a small guy with a face mask who stands calmly but perked up. They get out of the cab, Price helping him grab his bags.
He claps a hand on his back, leading him to the people. “Soap,” He starts, “This is Alex, Farah, and Roach. They’re your new teammates.”
“Hi,” Farah greets first, stepping forwards. She exudes confidence in every movement she makes with a firm look. She takes some of his bags from his hands. “I’m so glad you agreed to this. We could use your skills.”
“Thank you. What’s your position?” He says back.
“Defensive specialist. Roach here is our setter and Alex is an outside. I’m guessing you’re our Libero?”
“Aye.”
“Great,” Alex says genuinely. Soap’s taken aback by the American accent that comes from him but tries not to let it show. He nods at the man. Roach then comes up behind Farah, moving his hands at Soap. He recognizes it as sign but he’s not quite sure what it meant. Luckily, Alex catches this.
“He says it’s nice to meet you,” Alex chuckles. Soap smiles at the shorter man, returning the sentiment. Roach just beams.
As time goes on, they gain more members. König comes next along with Horangi. Then comes Gaz. He’s their ace. And damn, does he wear that title well. Sometimes, his hits are so fast and calculated that not even Soap can keep up with him.
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick quickly becomes his best friend. Their personalities match well. They’re seen around the house pulling pranks on other members of the team, causing affectionate eye rolls. They also tend to gossip a lot about how close some of the teammates are— Yes, it’s very schoolboyish of them but they couldn’t find themselves to care, especially not when there’s not much else to do outside of training.
Soap’s been training his ass off the whole time. It’s been a year since his initial recruitment and they have played numerous underground games. They’re pretty good. But not good enough for someone from the big leagues to notice him. Just as Price says, he gets him a job waitering in which he sends all of his money to his parents since he doesn’t really need it.
Everyone lives in the mansion, apart from Laswell who’s their other coach. She lives in a house nearby with her wife. She’s a lot tougher on him than Price. Price views them all as a tiny family which feels… nice. It’s been a long time since he felt the camaraderie of a team.
Every day he gets better. The ball stinging against his skin pleasantly reminds him of the career that he’s long since lost interest in, instead volleyball becoming his main focus. He earns the title of Libero easily. Price was right. His previous skills from being a goalie certainly helped him.
And he’s happy.