how Per convinced Poldi to come to Arsenal (the answer: FIFA)
by hipokras
When Ryan Giggs needs ankle surgery, Franz Mertesacker skids on a skateboard and needs a shin splint. He claims this is "sympathy pain" with his beloved team. For no apparent reason, he decides to move back in with his parents to recuperate (but Franz has always been the mummy's boy in their house). Per tries not to be insulted that his own brother would injure himself for The Enemy. He's told rather sharply by his mother to be nicer.
And then she says: "You should come home too."
Per's first instinct is to pretend he hasn't heard her.
He loves his family, he really does. He loves his brothers, comparing football memorabilia they've collected over the years, kick-starting impromptu carefully-strategized matches in the park with the guys from the sports bar. He loves his dad, who sinks heavily down on the couch next to him, depositing the computer in Per's lap and they try to figure it out together. (His dad is still far ahead of him, but thanks to Ulrike, Per is catching up.) He loves his mom, putting together teas in the kitchen under her expert eye and discerning taste. He understands Bob Marley and trippy herbs, but not tea, but he supposes it's only a fair trade for the delicious big Sunday lunches his mother usually makes for them all.
It's not hard to steer the conversation to neutral territory. He promises his mother to bring over her grandson more often, chats a bit with his dad, and hangs up.
Per also loves his family. Ulrike, and their miracle Paul, who is growing up. He's in that crucial stage when he's becoming his own person by imitating his parents and driving his mother mad to the brink of distraction while he's at it. Per comes home at the end of the day to some of his favourite people in the world, but in the end-middle of the season, the pressure is mounting and he sees less and less of them. His foot has effectively ended the season for him, he's in no position to travel to Milan (no matter how much he's counting on his team-mates to prove that they can do without Cesc Fabregas and Emmanuel Adebayor). He's got his first break while at this club (pun intended, but awfully) and in between physical therapy, this is his first and best chance all year to spend some real time with his family.
"Heidi's hen party is this weekend," Ulrike says suddenly. It's past midnight, they're both still awake, and her hand is pleasantly warm over his arm that's wrapped around her. Per presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, and tries to remember who Heidi is. "I promised her I'd go, and she's been holding me to it, since we were seven years old."
"You won't come to Hanover with me?"
She shifts, kicking off the sheets, and she fits perfectly against the curve of his body. She's careful of his injury, nudging his shin, and he places his leg over hers.
"I don't think my visa's in order, either."
Per buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the fruity scent of her shampoo. It steadies him even when it feels like the ground under the bed isn't there.
"You hate my family that much?"
"No. I'm just that scared of Heidi's wrath."
His arms tighten around her; he's already unwilling to let her go. She rubs her hand over his in broad, slow strokes.
"What about Paul?" he asks quietly.
"I'm not going to keep him from his grandmother. I don't want to face her wrath either."
Ulrike turns in his embrace, pushing him on his back, and rolling over him. She brushes back his hair with one hand, kissing him hard. He relaxes a little bit more into it.
"Stop it," she says, fingers still combing through his hair. She kisses him again, the corner of his mouth, more gently. "You're doing good. Really good."
The first thing he remembers about the Sunderland game that ended his season is white stars exploding behind his eyes. The second thing he remembers is the flimsiness of the stretcher under him.
"What if that was the end?"
"It wasn't." She's balanced above him, looking him right in the eye as she says it. The fierceness in her voice is mirrored in her kiss. "And there's life even after the end."
*
As he waits in his seat for take-off, Per checks that Paul is safely buckled in beside him. He needn't have worried because the stewardess has already fallen hopelessly for Paul's charms. She checks his seatbelt for him, smiles at Per, ruffles Paul's hair, and moves on to check on the other passengers.
He checks his phone for new messages for the first time since in the airport. His foot looks gnarled and blue like an evil Smurf, and on a whim, he'd put down Bob Marley and his shoe, and taken a quick photo. (If he's learned anything from Robin and even Jack and Frimpong, it's that all camera phone pictures end up as Twitpics.) Now, fifteen minutes later, there are two responses waiting for him.
A quick one:
(Arne 09:30) D:
(Per 09:47) Danke :D
The other text is a photo from Lukas Podolski with his face twisted in horror, probably at the sight of the Twitpic. Per is on the verge of reconsidering his choice of friends, but then again, they're probably doing the same about him.
(Jolly Green Giant 09:49) This from the guy who wears trackpants in a room full of people with tuxes.
*
Coming home is exactly what he had expected it to be. His mother envelopes Paul in a glowing hug, his father asks about the physical therapy, and his brothers give him hell about the Twitpic and demand to know why his better half hasn't come too.
"Ulli's friend is getting married soon, so they're all going off somewhere and having a big girls' party and taking baths in champagne."
His mother hand stills where she's raking it through Paul's curls, but she doesn't say anything. Per's glad grandchildren are a good enough reason for her not to ask why he's not married.
"Who's up for FIFA?" Franz demands, because the cast on his leg has only served to fuel his passion for the game.
"After lunch," says their mother pointedly.
"Dibs on Podolski," his brothers say simultaneously. Franz looks uncertainly from one to the other.
"Which one of you has the awkward big gay crush on him?"
Per jabs an accusing finger at his other brother, who points right back at him.
They play after lunch. Nobody but Per has forgotten exactly how bad he is at this game. Afterwards, licking his wounds, he watches his brothers battle it out and checks his phone for new messages. There's one from Ulrike, checking in, one from Arne, checking in because Ulrike's probably making him do it, and there's another from Lukas. Apparently, Monika ran into Ulrike in London, and now there's one more person who's been told to check in on Per. It's no coincidence that all these watchers are conveniently located near Per's house.
(Jolly Green Giant 15:58) What do you know about FIFA?
(Jolly Green Giant 15:00) The game.
(Poldi 16:01) You're speaking to the face of it since 2006.
(Jolly Green Giant 16:03) You aren't subtle when you brag.
(Poldi 16:04) Subtlety. Is this an edible thing?
*
"Since when do you sit around, staring at the computer?"
Per looks up, tearing his concentration away from Google Chrome, to see his dad standing over the couch, grinning down at him. He angles the laptop to show his dad the How to Use Skype pages filling the screen. "You wouldn't know how to video chat, would you?"
"Phone's not working?"
"It is, but I need to figure out the video chat."
Stefan Mertesacker sighs, runs a hand through his hair (a telltale sign of reluctance to profess ignorance) and sinks down on the couch too. "Here, show me the manual." He peers at the screen, obviously unwilling to admit defeat before Per. "Since when are you this interested in webcams anyway?"
"Uh, it was Ulli's idea. She wants to stay in touch better."
"It's only a few days."
Per gives his dad a big cheesy-cheeky grin. "It's love."
Truth to be told. Ulrike has no idea. She's given up on him where more advanced computer usage is concerned. The laptop, for instance, is his dad's. He needs to know how to Skype because he and Lukas have a deal. Lukas is going to teach Per how to thrash his brothers at FIFA 12 and in return, is going to get… well, nothing. He's still in Köln, locked into his training schedule, otherwise he would have taken the train down to Pattensen to teach Per himself.
(Poldi 19:04) Why don't you just ask your dad for tips on beating that game?
(Jolly Green Giant 19:07) And relive my childhood on a computer screen instead of on a pitch?
(Poldi 19:10) Haha touché.
Bastian has rubbed off on him good.
(Jolly Green Giant 19:13) Do you know what it's like to have your hard-ass coach come home with you?
(Poldi 19:14) Worse than living with your mother?
*
"Who the fuck are you texting so much?" The patented Arne Friedrich puppy-dog guilt-inducing frown is ruined by his impatience. Per can sort of not blame him. He'd insisted on going over to Arne's so that he could give Lukas's tips a trial run by beating Arne at FIFA.
The only snag is that he keeps texting Lukas in between to inform him of his progress.
(What's worse is that Lukas texts back.)
Arne uses his Huntelaar to lob a shot straight at Per's Szczesny, cutting cleanly through the slack defensive trifecta of Koscielny, Vermaelen and digital Per. Real Per drops his phone, jabs wildly at his controller, Szczesny jumps and manages to block the strike with what Arne is pretty sure is his digital groin.
"You should be carded for abuse of your players," says Arne, disgusted when the triumphant 'GOAL' sign doesn't appear. The scoreline is Schalke 2-0 Arsenal, but that doesn't mean he's not going to try.
"Sorry, sorry," says Per, picking up his phone.
Arne sighs, and pauses the game. Per taps out devastating casualties, viz. humpty dumpty, where is the cavalry, before putting the phone away.
"You don't want to play? That's fine. I'll just break out the beer and give you a foot massage, but there's no need to be such a bitch about it and not tell me that straight out."
Amused, Per takes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, waves it about to show Arne, and then leans forward to tuck into his friend's sweatshirt. Arne looks mildly mollified, before batting Per's hand away from him. "I'm not going to hug you and make it all better, bastard, so get off me."
"Heineken, not Carlsberg."
"Sure. Would you like an ice bucket with that?"
"If you have one, why not?"
The look of deepest disgust deepens on Arne's face, and he tosses down his PS3 controller to head into the kitchen. "You're a hedonist, you know that?" he shouts from in there. There's the clinking of beers being extracted from the depths of the fridge, utensils rattling metallically in the drawer as he searches for bottle openers. Then, there's the loud, unmistakable sound, the beep-beep in quick succession, signalling the receipt of a new text message.
Per's frozen on the living room couch. He can see right through the open door of the kitchen, Arne staring stupefied down at his midriff, then slowly pulling out the phone. He flips it open, scanning the screen for the sender.
"What's all this about horses and men?" says Arne slowly, at last. "And doesn't he know Germany doesn't have a king anymore?"
*
Under Lukas's tutelage, Per's game vastly improves. Lukas won't shut up about the irony of the situation, and Per won't stop insisting that it's the complicated controls that are tripping him up.
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:22 PM] Lukas Podolski: Wait, so you were playing on the PC, not the PS this whole time? (facepalm)
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:23 PM] Lukas Podolski: So sorry!!!! Was telling you cheats according to the PS controls. No wonder you lost
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:25 PM] Per Mertesacker: No. I am using Playstation.
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:25 PM] Lukas Podolski: (rofl)
Per doesn't appreciate how even the emoticon is rolling around the Skype IM window, laughing hysterically.
*
Never in his life has Per played video games quite so much, but it's a matter of pride that he at least improves at it. It's just not his fault that Lukas is such a bad teacher.
(Poldi 05:01) How is this even my fault?
(Jolly Green Giant 05:03) You only know how to play the game, not teach it.
(Poldi 05:03) What.
(Jolly Green Giant 05:04) You're fired.
(Poldi 05:10) I knew you'd do this. You were only using me for my FIFA 12 skills.
(Poldi 05:12) Everyone warned me about you, but like a fool, I refused to listen.
(Poldi 05:13) Excuse me while I play Gloria Gaynor really loudly to soothe this ache inside me.
*
Paul walks in on his daddy standing on his childhood bed, trying to reach into the space between the top of the bookshelf and the roof. He stands in the doorway, blinking, bewildered. Mostly, he's wondering how his daddy got even taller.
Dusting off his hands, Per climbs down from the bed, hoisting Paul into the air like a potato sack.
"When you grow up, lil' buddy, always remember to have your own secret storage space."
Paul just quirks both eyebrows in confusion.
Settling the boy securely around his hip, Per gets back up on the bed, trying a spot of gymnastics which will let him get half his arm into the hole he'd carved and plastered over in the wall. He shoves the ancient Playboy magazine deeper back into the crevice, and pulls out the Janis Joplin LP. He hasn't updated his collection of forbidden lady singers since he last lived in this room, but Paul has never seen an LP before. Per lets him sit down on the bed to examine it, and goes back to hunting for the Gloria Gaynor album he knows for sure is in there.
*
He ignores Lukas for the rest of the day. Lukas ignores him too.
*
"Afternoon, babe, where's Paul?"
Ulrike's glowing, and it has nothing to do with the computer screen she's currently filling. She's happier than Per ever remembers seeing. He brings his face closer to the tiny webcam, just to make sure she can see him properly. He still uses a headset because he hasn't got the hang of the laptop's speakers yet.
"With Mutti. They've gone to see a movie."
"Oh." Her lips curve upwards in a delicious smile. "Are you alone right now?"
Per raises himself on one elbow to ensure his door is still locked. He slides down on his stomach get comfortable. "Sort of. I missed you."
It's only been a few days, but he does, and coherent thought is knocked right out of his head when he watches her pick up her laptop and carry it over to the bed. She doesn't follow it at once, and she says, her voice lower, breathy, "I'll give you thirty seconds more to miss me in."
At first he doesn't understand what she means, but then she pauses by the bed, right in front of the webcam, and he watches the hem of her tight black top glide up revealing the tight, toned expanse of her stomach, the lace of her bra. Her fingers reach down to pop the button holding her jeans closed, and she lies back languorously on the bed, using her feet to thrust her jeans off. Her fingernails have a clear, lacquered sheen to them, and he watches transfixed as the tips of her fingers stop at her hip, hooks around her flimsy panties.
"I'm not going to wait forty-eight damn hours to have you again."
He closes his eyes tight, resting his forehead on the keyboard. His breath comes out as a slow groan, and it's like she's whispering right beside his ear, come with me. The shudder runs down his back, and he feels himself respond, tentatively reaching down between his legs, clad in his trackpants.
"Take. It. Off."
His boxers are down to his knees with his pants, and can't take his eyes off the computer screen, imagining his hand tracing the arch of Ulrike's naked back, sliding steadily downwards to cup the curve of her bottom.
Beep beep.
His body runs cold.
Ulrike hasn't heard it. She smiles at him, soft, slow, and it lights up the darkened room with his drawn curtains. That smile is the one thing keeping him from picking up the phone. He knows it's Lukas. Who the hell else texts him these days? (Arne prefers to ambush him with voice calls, and he's got Ulrike right here.)
Beepbeep.
"Much better," she says, and Per is thrown for a moment before he follows the line of her sight and realises she has no idea how precarious a position he's in and how one nudge from Lukas could send him off the wrong edge.
She touches where he so desperately wants to be, but slow, lazy, and he can't help the whine that drags out from between his teeth. He's hard under his hand already, and her smile just widens, her thumb balanced against her.
He doesn't know how to enlarge the video screen, and the line of his taskbar is still visible. The blue Skype icon is frantically signalling to him that he has another incoming message that he needs to take right now.
No, no, no, the hell he does.
Beepbeep.
Beepbeep.
Beepbeepbeepbeep.
Her eyes flutter closed as she finds the perfect pace against her thumb, a finger slipping in.
"I don't want to do this alone, babe." Her eyes glint, wickedly persuasive, and he's already malleable in her hands.
He shifts on the bed, pushing his long legs down, ostensibly so that his knees don't cramp. One hand closes around his erection, but he manages to throw the other around the laptop to pick up his phone behind the lid. It feels like the bones of his wrist might crack, but he manages to flip open the phone anyway.
(Poldi 15:33) I'm sorry.
(Poldi 15:34) Let's not fight.
(Poldi 15:35) I miss you.
(Poldi 15:37) Don't ignore me.
(Poldi 15:39) Gloria Gaynor has no idea what it feels like to be dumped.
Per doesn't even touch the irony of the last one with a ten-foot pole. He's seriously considering just ignoring the onslaught of messages. He infinitely prefers an Ulli who turns him on to a jilted Lukas. Still, against all reason, it gives him pause to drive one more nail into the coffin when Lukas claims Per is the reason he's dying of a broken heart. Aware that he can never, ever, ever tell anyone this (especially not Arne), he does it.
He texts back.
*
"One day you're going to have to tell me why you and Ulli aren't talking to each other."
Per hunches his shoulders, trying to sink through the leather seat and just disappear through the floor. "Drop it. You don't have to check up on me all the time just because she told you to." This is the fiftieth time he's saying it in two days, but it has no effect.
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" points out Arne, laughing. He perks up, sitting straighter as Bastian emerges from the crowd, holding aloft their bottles. He nudges Arne, prompting him to move in deeper into the booth to make room for himself.
It's Sunday night, and they're out drinking. Per didn't want to go anywhere near a dance floor, and Arne had been perceptive enough to rule out a bar. They'd hit on the perfect compromise in the form of a karaoke bar, which won't be filled with a crush of people. Moreover, Bastian's always wanted to hear Per sing, ever since he heard about the time Robin van Persie took the team carousing and Per did a fantastic rendition of Rihanna.
(Arne still asks if Per feels like he's the only girl in the world, all lonely in his king-sized bed.)
(Jolly Green Giant 20:09) I figured out why I'm bad at playing FIFA. I shave every day now that I'm at home.
(Poldi 20:10) Say what?
(Jolly Green Giant 20:11) You smooth, you lose.
Bastian lowers his bottle, peering at Per over the rim. "Are you texting?"
Arne smirks into his drink. "Never thought you'd see the day, did you?"
"God no. I think I owe Neuer fifty bucks. Damnit. I swear it seemed like a solid bet."
"He owes me a five-percent cut from that, actually," murmurs Per without looking up. He's cooled off on the texting Lukas part a little, ever since The Skype Incident (coincidentally the reason why Ulrike's considerably cooler towards him too), so Lukas really has a whole lot to make up for.
(Poldi 20:20) Didn't you say something about a karaoke machine?
(Jolly Green Giant 20:23) Yeah.
(Poldi 20:24) Long-distance requests allowed?
This time Per's learned his lesson. He buries his phone deep into his pocket, out of Arne's reach, when he gets up and announces he's going to go the stage and sing. He makes his very specific request, and is gratified that the song seems to be a karaoke staple. He's only bolstered by Arne and Bastian whooping and cheering for him.
Per's just launched into Irreplaceable when Arne's phone starts to ring. Caller ID tells him it's Lukas Podolski, but he's a little stunned anyway. "Hey-"
"He's singing Beyoncé, isn't he?" says Podolski by way of greeting. He has to shout to be heard.
"You bet he is." Arne shouldn't be surprised Podolski knows. Per is his best friend, but he has no doubt the choice of karaoke song was Podolski's idea.
"Are you recording it?"
Arne grins in the dark. "Of course."
Bastian's already holding up his iPhone, which works perfectly as a CamCorder-substitute.
"Put me on speakerphone. I want to listen too."
"Sure. One second." He thumbs the button, holding his phone aloft in one hand so that Per's dulcet tones are audible all the way to China. In between there and here, surely Podolski can hear just fine.
"Who is that?" asks Bastian curiously, nodding at the phone.
Arne tells him. He watches the shutters drop over Bastian's eyes, and imagines how he himself must look. "Should I invite him, too?" he asks aloud in afterthought.
Bastian shrugs. He tilts the bottle up into his mouth in a long swallow. "He doesn't drink. He'd be bored."
(Poldi 20:44) Encore?
(Jolly Green Giant 20:45) What's the replay button for?
*
Later, slumped in the backseat of Bastian's car, Arne's head pillowed against his shoulder, he stares drowsily out the window, the city space whipping past them. He thinks about how, all those years ago Lukas went to FC Bayern because Bastian asked him if he would.
Maybe it all it takes is just a question.
(Jolly Green Giant 21:45) Want to teach me FIFA '12 full-time?
finis
notes:
-Ryan Giggs and Per Mertesacker both sustained leg injuries in February '12. Per was taken out in the game against Sunderland, which made him unfit for the first leg of the Champions League against AC Milan, which was to take place a few days later.
-Arsenal defeated AC Milan 2-0 (Fabregas, Adebayor) in the second-leg CL match. Both players subsequently left for FC Barcelona and Manchester City respectively.
-Per has two brothers (but it is unknown if one of them is named Franz).
-When they were young, they went to visit their aunt in Plymouth: Per came home with an Arsenal jersey, and his brother with a Manchester United one.
-He read Bob Marley.
-Paul is his son with his partner, Ulrike Stange. She retired from professional handball to raise their son.
-Per grew up in Pattensen, near Hanover.
-Arsenal is a team of Twitter trolls.
-Especially Robin.
-The Twitpic of his foot is real.
-While he was living with his parents, he used to borrow his dad's laptop to read e-mails from the Germany team director. He didn't even have a DVD player back then to analyse the DVD footage of his own performances.
-His father, Stefan, used to be one of his coaches when he played for Hanover.
-Per has been a supporter of Arsenal since childhood.
- Arne and Per's hugs are infamous, especially in the German media.
-His karaoke performance of Rihanna is reputedly fantastic.
-In February 2012, Lukas was in his last season with Köln and Per in his first with Arsenal. Lukas was interested in a transfer, and inter alia, Per kind of sort of made it happen. During the injury period, apparently the two of them were texting a lot.
When Ryan Giggs needs ankle surgery, Franz Mertesacker skids on a skateboard and needs a shin splint. He claims this is "sympathy pain" with his beloved team. For no apparent reason, he decides to move back in with his parents to recuperate (but Franz has always been the mummy's boy in their house). Per tries not to be insulted that his own brother would injure himself for The Enemy. He's told rather sharply by his mother to be nicer.
And then she says: "You should come home too."
Per's first instinct is to pretend he hasn't heard her.
He loves his family, he really does. He loves his brothers, comparing football memorabilia they've collected over the years, kick-starting impromptu carefully-strategized matches in the park with the guys from the sports bar. He loves his dad, who sinks heavily down on the couch next to him, depositing the computer in Per's lap and they try to figure it out together. (His dad is still far ahead of him, but thanks to Ulrike, Per is catching up.) He loves his mom, putting together teas in the kitchen under her expert eye and discerning taste. He understands Bob Marley and trippy herbs, but not tea, but he supposes it's only a fair trade for the delicious big Sunday lunches his mother usually makes for them all.
It's not hard to steer the conversation to neutral territory. He promises his mother to bring over her grandson more often, chats a bit with his dad, and hangs up.
Per also loves his family. Ulrike, and their miracle Paul, who is growing up. He's in that crucial stage when he's becoming his own person by imitating his parents and driving his mother mad to the brink of distraction while he's at it. Per comes home at the end of the day to some of his favourite people in the world, but in the end-middle of the season, the pressure is mounting and he sees less and less of them. His foot has effectively ended the season for him, he's in no position to travel to Milan (no matter how much he's counting on his team-mates to prove that they can do without Cesc Fabregas and Emmanuel Adebayor). He's got his first break while at this club (pun intended, but awfully) and in between physical therapy, this is his first and best chance all year to spend some real time with his family.
"Heidi's hen party is this weekend," Ulrike says suddenly. It's past midnight, they're both still awake, and her hand is pleasantly warm over his arm that's wrapped around her. Per presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, and tries to remember who Heidi is. "I promised her I'd go, and she's been holding me to it, since we were seven years old."
"You won't come to Hanover with me?"
She shifts, kicking off the sheets, and she fits perfectly against the curve of his body. She's careful of his injury, nudging his shin, and he places his leg over hers.
"I don't think my visa's in order, either."
Per buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the fruity scent of her shampoo. It steadies him even when it feels like the ground under the bed isn't there.
"You hate my family that much?"
"No. I'm just that scared of Heidi's wrath."
His arms tighten around her; he's already unwilling to let her go. She rubs her hand over his in broad, slow strokes.
"What about Paul?" he asks quietly.
"I'm not going to keep him from his grandmother. I don't want to face her wrath either."
Ulrike turns in his embrace, pushing him on his back, and rolling over him. She brushes back his hair with one hand, kissing him hard. He relaxes a little bit more into it.
"Stop it," she says, fingers still combing through his hair. She kisses him again, the corner of his mouth, more gently. "You're doing good. Really good."
The first thing he remembers about the Sunderland game that ended his season is white stars exploding behind his eyes. The second thing he remembers is the flimsiness of the stretcher under him.
"What if that was the end?"
"It wasn't." She's balanced above him, looking him right in the eye as she says it. The fierceness in her voice is mirrored in her kiss. "And there's life even after the end."
*
As he waits in his seat for take-off, Per checks that Paul is safely buckled in beside him. He needn't have worried because the stewardess has already fallen hopelessly for Paul's charms. She checks his seatbelt for him, smiles at Per, ruffles Paul's hair, and moves on to check on the other passengers.
He checks his phone for new messages for the first time since in the airport. His foot looks gnarled and blue like an evil Smurf, and on a whim, he'd put down Bob Marley and his shoe, and taken a quick photo. (If he's learned anything from Robin and even Jack and Frimpong, it's that all camera phone pictures end up as Twitpics.) Now, fifteen minutes later, there are two responses waiting for him.
A quick one:
(Arne 09:30) D:
(Per 09:47) Danke :D
The other text is a photo from Lukas Podolski with his face twisted in horror, probably at the sight of the Twitpic. Per is on the verge of reconsidering his choice of friends, but then again, they're probably doing the same about him.
(Jolly Green Giant 09:49) This from the guy who wears trackpants in a room full of people with tuxes.
*
Coming home is exactly what he had expected it to be. His mother envelopes Paul in a glowing hug, his father asks about the physical therapy, and his brothers give him hell about the Twitpic and demand to know why his better half hasn't come too.
"Ulli's friend is getting married soon, so they're all going off somewhere and having a big girls' party and taking baths in champagne."
His mother hand stills where she's raking it through Paul's curls, but she doesn't say anything. Per's glad grandchildren are a good enough reason for her not to ask why he's not married.
"Who's up for FIFA?" Franz demands, because the cast on his leg has only served to fuel his passion for the game.
"After lunch," says their mother pointedly.
"Dibs on Podolski," his brothers say simultaneously. Franz looks uncertainly from one to the other.
"Which one of you has the awkward big gay crush on him?"
Per jabs an accusing finger at his other brother, who points right back at him.
They play after lunch. Nobody but Per has forgotten exactly how bad he is at this game. Afterwards, licking his wounds, he watches his brothers battle it out and checks his phone for new messages. There's one from Ulrike, checking in, one from Arne, checking in because Ulrike's probably making him do it, and there's another from Lukas. Apparently, Monika ran into Ulrike in London, and now there's one more person who's been told to check in on Per. It's no coincidence that all these watchers are conveniently located near Per's house.
(Jolly Green Giant 15:58) What do you know about FIFA?
(Jolly Green Giant 15:00) The game.
(Poldi 16:01) You're speaking to the face of it since 2006.
(Jolly Green Giant 16:03) You aren't subtle when you brag.
(Poldi 16:04) Subtlety. Is this an edible thing?
*
"Since when do you sit around, staring at the computer?"
Per looks up, tearing his concentration away from Google Chrome, to see his dad standing over the couch, grinning down at him. He angles the laptop to show his dad the How to Use Skype pages filling the screen. "You wouldn't know how to video chat, would you?"
"Phone's not working?"
"It is, but I need to figure out the video chat."
Stefan Mertesacker sighs, runs a hand through his hair (a telltale sign of reluctance to profess ignorance) and sinks down on the couch too. "Here, show me the manual." He peers at the screen, obviously unwilling to admit defeat before Per. "Since when are you this interested in webcams anyway?"
"Uh, it was Ulli's idea. She wants to stay in touch better."
"It's only a few days."
Per gives his dad a big cheesy-cheeky grin. "It's love."
Truth to be told. Ulrike has no idea. She's given up on him where more advanced computer usage is concerned. The laptop, for instance, is his dad's. He needs to know how to Skype because he and Lukas have a deal. Lukas is going to teach Per how to thrash his brothers at FIFA 12 and in return, is going to get… well, nothing. He's still in Köln, locked into his training schedule, otherwise he would have taken the train down to Pattensen to teach Per himself.
(Poldi 19:04) Why don't you just ask your dad for tips on beating that game?
(Jolly Green Giant 19:07) And relive my childhood on a computer screen instead of on a pitch?
(Poldi 19:10) Haha touché.
Bastian has rubbed off on him good.
(Jolly Green Giant 19:13) Do you know what it's like to have your hard-ass coach come home with you?
(Poldi 19:14) Worse than living with your mother?
*
"Who the fuck are you texting so much?" The patented Arne Friedrich puppy-dog guilt-inducing frown is ruined by his impatience. Per can sort of not blame him. He'd insisted on going over to Arne's so that he could give Lukas's tips a trial run by beating Arne at FIFA.
The only snag is that he keeps texting Lukas in between to inform him of his progress.
(What's worse is that Lukas texts back.)
Arne uses his Huntelaar to lob a shot straight at Per's Szczesny, cutting cleanly through the slack defensive trifecta of Koscielny, Vermaelen and digital Per. Real Per drops his phone, jabs wildly at his controller, Szczesny jumps and manages to block the strike with what Arne is pretty sure is his digital groin.
"You should be carded for abuse of your players," says Arne, disgusted when the triumphant 'GOAL' sign doesn't appear. The scoreline is Schalke 2-0 Arsenal, but that doesn't mean he's not going to try.
"Sorry, sorry," says Per, picking up his phone.
Arne sighs, and pauses the game. Per taps out devastating casualties, viz. humpty dumpty, where is the cavalry, before putting the phone away.
"You don't want to play? That's fine. I'll just break out the beer and give you a foot massage, but there's no need to be such a bitch about it and not tell me that straight out."
Amused, Per takes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, waves it about to show Arne, and then leans forward to tuck into his friend's sweatshirt. Arne looks mildly mollified, before batting Per's hand away from him. "I'm not going to hug you and make it all better, bastard, so get off me."
"Heineken, not Carlsberg."
"Sure. Would you like an ice bucket with that?"
"If you have one, why not?"
The look of deepest disgust deepens on Arne's face, and he tosses down his PS3 controller to head into the kitchen. "You're a hedonist, you know that?" he shouts from in there. There's the clinking of beers being extracted from the depths of the fridge, utensils rattling metallically in the drawer as he searches for bottle openers. Then, there's the loud, unmistakable sound, the beep-beep in quick succession, signalling the receipt of a new text message.
Per's frozen on the living room couch. He can see right through the open door of the kitchen, Arne staring stupefied down at his midriff, then slowly pulling out the phone. He flips it open, scanning the screen for the sender.
"What's all this about horses and men?" says Arne slowly, at last. "And doesn't he know Germany doesn't have a king anymore?"
*
Under Lukas's tutelage, Per's game vastly improves. Lukas won't shut up about the irony of the situation, and Per won't stop insisting that it's the complicated controls that are tripping him up.
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:22 PM] Lukas Podolski: Wait, so you were playing on the PC, not the PS this whole time? (facepalm)
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:23 PM] Lukas Podolski: So sorry!!!! Was telling you cheats according to the PS controls. No wonder you lost
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:25 PM] Per Mertesacker: No. I am using Playstation.
[Saturday, February 11, 2012 05:25 PM] Lukas Podolski: (rofl)
Per doesn't appreciate how even the emoticon is rolling around the Skype IM window, laughing hysterically.
*
Never in his life has Per played video games quite so much, but it's a matter of pride that he at least improves at it. It's just not his fault that Lukas is such a bad teacher.
(Poldi 05:01) How is this even my fault?
(Jolly Green Giant 05:03) You only know how to play the game, not teach it.
(Poldi 05:03) What.
(Jolly Green Giant 05:04) You're fired.
(Poldi 05:10) I knew you'd do this. You were only using me for my FIFA 12 skills.
(Poldi 05:12) Everyone warned me about you, but like a fool, I refused to listen.
(Poldi 05:13) Excuse me while I play Gloria Gaynor really loudly to soothe this ache inside me.
*
Paul walks in on his daddy standing on his childhood bed, trying to reach into the space between the top of the bookshelf and the roof. He stands in the doorway, blinking, bewildered. Mostly, he's wondering how his daddy got even taller.
Dusting off his hands, Per climbs down from the bed, hoisting Paul into the air like a potato sack.
"When you grow up, lil' buddy, always remember to have your own secret storage space."
Paul just quirks both eyebrows in confusion.
Settling the boy securely around his hip, Per gets back up on the bed, trying a spot of gymnastics which will let him get half his arm into the hole he'd carved and plastered over in the wall. He shoves the ancient Playboy magazine deeper back into the crevice, and pulls out the Janis Joplin LP. He hasn't updated his collection of forbidden lady singers since he last lived in this room, but Paul has never seen an LP before. Per lets him sit down on the bed to examine it, and goes back to hunting for the Gloria Gaynor album he knows for sure is in there.
*
He ignores Lukas for the rest of the day. Lukas ignores him too.
*
"Afternoon, babe, where's Paul?"
Ulrike's glowing, and it has nothing to do with the computer screen she's currently filling. She's happier than Per ever remembers seeing. He brings his face closer to the tiny webcam, just to make sure she can see him properly. He still uses a headset because he hasn't got the hang of the laptop's speakers yet.
"With Mutti. They've gone to see a movie."
"Oh." Her lips curve upwards in a delicious smile. "Are you alone right now?"
Per raises himself on one elbow to ensure his door is still locked. He slides down on his stomach get comfortable. "Sort of. I missed you."
It's only been a few days, but he does, and coherent thought is knocked right out of his head when he watches her pick up her laptop and carry it over to the bed. She doesn't follow it at once, and she says, her voice lower, breathy, "I'll give you thirty seconds more to miss me in."
At first he doesn't understand what she means, but then she pauses by the bed, right in front of the webcam, and he watches the hem of her tight black top glide up revealing the tight, toned expanse of her stomach, the lace of her bra. Her fingers reach down to pop the button holding her jeans closed, and she lies back languorously on the bed, using her feet to thrust her jeans off. Her fingernails have a clear, lacquered sheen to them, and he watches transfixed as the tips of her fingers stop at her hip, hooks around her flimsy panties.
"I'm not going to wait forty-eight damn hours to have you again."
He closes his eyes tight, resting his forehead on the keyboard. His breath comes out as a slow groan, and it's like she's whispering right beside his ear, come with me. The shudder runs down his back, and he feels himself respond, tentatively reaching down between his legs, clad in his trackpants.
"Take. It. Off."
His boxers are down to his knees with his pants, and can't take his eyes off the computer screen, imagining his hand tracing the arch of Ulrike's naked back, sliding steadily downwards to cup the curve of her bottom.
Beep beep.
His body runs cold.
Ulrike hasn't heard it. She smiles at him, soft, slow, and it lights up the darkened room with his drawn curtains. That smile is the one thing keeping him from picking up the phone. He knows it's Lukas. Who the hell else texts him these days? (Arne prefers to ambush him with voice calls, and he's got Ulrike right here.)
Beepbeep.
"Much better," she says, and Per is thrown for a moment before he follows the line of her sight and realises she has no idea how precarious a position he's in and how one nudge from Lukas could send him off the wrong edge.
She touches where he so desperately wants to be, but slow, lazy, and he can't help the whine that drags out from between his teeth. He's hard under his hand already, and her smile just widens, her thumb balanced against her.
He doesn't know how to enlarge the video screen, and the line of his taskbar is still visible. The blue Skype icon is frantically signalling to him that he has another incoming message that he needs to take right now.
No, no, no, the hell he does.
Beepbeep.
Beepbeep.
Beepbeepbeepbeep.
Her eyes flutter closed as she finds the perfect pace against her thumb, a finger slipping in.
"I don't want to do this alone, babe." Her eyes glint, wickedly persuasive, and he's already malleable in her hands.
He shifts on the bed, pushing his long legs down, ostensibly so that his knees don't cramp. One hand closes around his erection, but he manages to throw the other around the laptop to pick up his phone behind the lid. It feels like the bones of his wrist might crack, but he manages to flip open the phone anyway.
(Poldi 15:33) I'm sorry.
(Poldi 15:34) Let's not fight.
(Poldi 15:35) I miss you.
(Poldi 15:37) Don't ignore me.
(Poldi 15:39) Gloria Gaynor has no idea what it feels like to be dumped.
Per doesn't even touch the irony of the last one with a ten-foot pole. He's seriously considering just ignoring the onslaught of messages. He infinitely prefers an Ulli who turns him on to a jilted Lukas. Still, against all reason, it gives him pause to drive one more nail into the coffin when Lukas claims Per is the reason he's dying of a broken heart. Aware that he can never, ever, ever tell anyone this (especially not Arne), he does it.
He texts back.
*
"One day you're going to have to tell me why you and Ulli aren't talking to each other."
Per hunches his shoulders, trying to sink through the leather seat and just disappear through the floor. "Drop it. You don't have to check up on me all the time just because she told you to." This is the fiftieth time he's saying it in two days, but it has no effect.
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" points out Arne, laughing. He perks up, sitting straighter as Bastian emerges from the crowd, holding aloft their bottles. He nudges Arne, prompting him to move in deeper into the booth to make room for himself.
It's Sunday night, and they're out drinking. Per didn't want to go anywhere near a dance floor, and Arne had been perceptive enough to rule out a bar. They'd hit on the perfect compromise in the form of a karaoke bar, which won't be filled with a crush of people. Moreover, Bastian's always wanted to hear Per sing, ever since he heard about the time Robin van Persie took the team carousing and Per did a fantastic rendition of Rihanna.
(Arne still asks if Per feels like he's the only girl in the world, all lonely in his king-sized bed.)
(Jolly Green Giant 20:09) I figured out why I'm bad at playing FIFA. I shave every day now that I'm at home.
(Poldi 20:10) Say what?
(Jolly Green Giant 20:11) You smooth, you lose.
Bastian lowers his bottle, peering at Per over the rim. "Are you texting?"
Arne smirks into his drink. "Never thought you'd see the day, did you?"
"God no. I think I owe Neuer fifty bucks. Damnit. I swear it seemed like a solid bet."
"He owes me a five-percent cut from that, actually," murmurs Per without looking up. He's cooled off on the texting Lukas part a little, ever since The Skype Incident (coincidentally the reason why Ulrike's considerably cooler towards him too), so Lukas really has a whole lot to make up for.
(Poldi 20:20) Didn't you say something about a karaoke machine?
(Jolly Green Giant 20:23) Yeah.
(Poldi 20:24) Long-distance requests allowed?
This time Per's learned his lesson. He buries his phone deep into his pocket, out of Arne's reach, when he gets up and announces he's going to go the stage and sing. He makes his very specific request, and is gratified that the song seems to be a karaoke staple. He's only bolstered by Arne and Bastian whooping and cheering for him.
Per's just launched into Irreplaceable when Arne's phone starts to ring. Caller ID tells him it's Lukas Podolski, but he's a little stunned anyway. "Hey-"
"He's singing Beyoncé, isn't he?" says Podolski by way of greeting. He has to shout to be heard.
"You bet he is." Arne shouldn't be surprised Podolski knows. Per is his best friend, but he has no doubt the choice of karaoke song was Podolski's idea.
"Are you recording it?"
Arne grins in the dark. "Of course."
Bastian's already holding up his iPhone, which works perfectly as a CamCorder-substitute.
"Put me on speakerphone. I want to listen too."
"Sure. One second." He thumbs the button, holding his phone aloft in one hand so that Per's dulcet tones are audible all the way to China. In between there and here, surely Podolski can hear just fine.
"Who is that?" asks Bastian curiously, nodding at the phone.
Arne tells him. He watches the shutters drop over Bastian's eyes, and imagines how he himself must look. "Should I invite him, too?" he asks aloud in afterthought.
Bastian shrugs. He tilts the bottle up into his mouth in a long swallow. "He doesn't drink. He'd be bored."
(Poldi 20:44) Encore?
(Jolly Green Giant 20:45) What's the replay button for?
*
Later, slumped in the backseat of Bastian's car, Arne's head pillowed against his shoulder, he stares drowsily out the window, the city space whipping past them. He thinks about how, all those years ago Lukas went to FC Bayern because Bastian asked him if he would.
Maybe it all it takes is just a question.
(Jolly Green Giant 21:45) Want to teach me FIFA '12 full-time?
finis
notes:
-Ryan Giggs and Per Mertesacker both sustained leg injuries in February '12. Per was taken out in the game against Sunderland, which made him unfit for the first leg of the Champions League against AC Milan, which was to take place a few days later.
-Arsenal defeated AC Milan 2-0 (Fabregas, Adebayor) in the second-leg CL match. Both players subsequently left for FC Barcelona and Manchester City respectively.
-Per has two brothers (but it is unknown if one of them is named Franz).
-When they were young, they went to visit their aunt in Plymouth: Per came home with an Arsenal jersey, and his brother with a Manchester United one.
-He read Bob Marley.
-Paul is his son with his partner, Ulrike Stange. She retired from professional handball to raise their son.
-Per grew up in Pattensen, near Hanover.
-Arsenal is a team of Twitter trolls.
-Especially Robin.
-The Twitpic of his foot is real.
-While he was living with his parents, he used to borrow his dad's laptop to read e-mails from the Germany team director. He didn't even have a DVD player back then to analyse the DVD footage of his own performances.
-His father, Stefan, used to be one of his coaches when he played for Hanover.
-Per has been a supporter of Arsenal since childhood.
- Arne and Per's hugs are infamous, especially in the German media.
-His karaoke performance of Rihanna is reputedly fantastic.
-In February 2012, Lukas was in his last season with Köln and Per in his first with Arsenal. Lukas was interested in a transfer, and inter alia, Per kind of sort of made it happen. During the injury period, apparently the two of them were texting a lot.