What's the way of love?
Title: Collision Course (7/13)
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso/Harry Kewell, Steve Finnan/Daniel Agger
Characters: The entire Liverpool squad.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: None of this is real. I don’t own the boys.
A/N: University AU | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
I found out, we’re all breaking hearts. We’re all broken hearts.
D. Agger has started a conference.
A. Arbeloa: Are you sure we should be doing this?
P. Crouch: It’s computer class. We’re using computers. What’s wrong with that?
D. Kuyt: Besides, the school gave us our own messenger IDs. Surely we have their blessing.
Y. Benny Noon: THE SCHOOL GOT MY NAME WRONG.
P. Crouch: Where the fuck are Dan and Fernando?
J. Reina: Do you really want to know?
F. Torres: We can read your messages, you know.
D. Kuyt: Oh, shoot, I just missed what Big Sam said. What the fuck is a fruit loop statement?
D. Agger: FOR LOOP, KUYT. Jesus Christ.
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
J. Reina: Forchrissakes, who the fuck is this Benny doing some serious capslock abuse?
Y. Benny Noon: SEQWEIAPDIAPSIQPWUEQWDADAIUAOUEQOWEPAPODPAOFPQADASAFQERFEFRP
J. Reina: Dagger, can you remove this hacker? I think it’s a bug.
D. Kuyt: I don’t understand anything Big Sam is saying! Remind me why we’re taking C-Language again.
D. Agger: Bloody hell, Kuyt. Just copy-paste this.
#include (stdio.h)
main(void)
{
int num;
for(num=1; num<=10; num ++)
printf (“%d”, num);
getch();
}
P. Crouch: Oh, hey. Thanks, Danny.
A. Arbeloa: Thanks, Danny.
J. Reina: Thanks, Danny.
D. Kuyt: Thanks, Danny.
Y. Benny Noon: THANKS, DANNY.
F. Torres: Thanks, Danny.
D. Agger: Leechers, all of you.
F. Torres: I owe you one.
J. Reina: OHAI, KEEP IT IN, BOYS. No promising of sexual favours while we’re all here, plzkthx.
D. Agger: Stop talking like you’re a 15-year-old girl on Myspace, Pepe.
J. Reina: Fuck off.
F. Torres: And I was not proposing sexual favours. I’m not a slut, thanks very much.
D. Agger: And I was not accepting sexual favours. I’m not... Okay, well, I am. But, yeah.
P. Crouch has left the conference.
D. Kuyt has left the conference.
A. Arbeloa has left the conference.
J. Reina has left the conference.
F. Torres: Well, fuck.
F. Torres has left the conference.
D. Agger has left the conference.
Y. Benny Noon: WHERE IS EVERYONE?
Y. Benny Noon: HELLO?
Y. Benny Noon: GUYS?
Y. Benny Noon: I AM NOT A BUG.
Y. Benny Noon: ...HELLO?
*
Xabi’s phone rang persistently for about the third straight time. He didn’t even need to check the name to know who was calling him.
“Well, aren’t you answering that?” Pepe asked, busily pulling off his gloves.
Xabi looked at his mobile, buzzing again, and shrugged. “Nah, it’s not important.”
“Can’t be unimportant if it keeps ringing.” A voice pointed out. Xabi glanced up, and it was Stevie, sitting on the bench, kicking off his muddy boots. Xabi offered a small smile, but Stevie just went back to untying the stubborn knot of his left shoe.
Ignoring the pang of hurt, Xabi turned around and grabbed his phone. “What?” he hissed down the line.
“Why, hello to you too,” a cheery voice greeted. “Is training finished? Because I’m almost done here at the paper too.”
“Yeah, training’s over.” Xabi gnawed at his bottom lip and looked around. Stevie was still avoiding his gaze but he knew he was probably listening in as closely as he could.
“Do you wanna hang out?” Harry asked, and Xabi could faintly hear the rustling of paper being shuffled and rearranged.
The Spaniard took a deep breath. “I can’t.”
A pause. “Why not?”
“Ha-” Xabi caught himself before he said Harry’s name. “I just can’t. I... I have to run extra laps,” he quickly fibbed.
“I can wait,” Harry said nonchalantly.
“No, you can’t,” Xabi blurted out.
An exasperated grunt. “What’s going on?”
Xabi momentarily put down his phone and made his way to the corridor where he could talk to Harry in private. He met Stevie’s gaze as he was crossing the locker room. The captain shook his head and just shrugged at him helplessly. Ducking his head, ashamed, Xabi hurriedly exited.
“What’s going on?” Harry was asking again.
“Look, Rafa found me out,” Xabi retorted.
“Oh, shit. Xabi, I’m sorry.”
“Exactly,” Xabi threw a hand up in the air, “I’m this close to losing a spot in the starting line-up, so, no, I can’t meet up with you tonight. Or anytime soon.”
“What?” Harry demanded. “I understand lying low and putting your best foot forward for the Chelsea game. But... ever?” He trailed off in frustrated confusion.
“Because! Harry, I want some sense of my normal life back, don’t you get it?” Xabi asked, getting riled up increasingly. “I want to be on form again and understand my Algebra. I want to get to training on time and not miss class.”
“Look, I apologise that you got caught cutting. I really am,” Harry said sincerely. “But why do we have to stop meeting each other? What does that have to do with your grades, or your form on the pitch?” Harry sighed, “I don’t know how to explain this. But if you want your normal life back, sure. Go for it. But why can’t I be part of it?”
Xabi rested his head against the cool wall. “Because I already have Stevie.”
“And Stevie is your ‘normal life,’” Harry laughed bitterly.
“No!”
“Then what is it?” Harry demanded.
Xabi gritted his teeth. “Hey, when we started seeing each other, you knew I was with Stevie, and you knew I wasn’t going to give that up anytime soon.”
It seemed like Harry was going to argue back, but he stopped, sighed and gave up. “Fine. Call me when you need someone to fuck around with again,” he snapped, and then the line went dead.
*
Harry stared off moodily into the colourful array of ice cream and huffed. This was such a dilemma. To buy or not to buy dessert? It was bad enough that he was dumped, he didn’t want to be fat too. But on the other hand, bingeing was the only thing he could think of to make himself feel better. Harry huffed again.
“Well?” The waitress asked impatiently. “Are you getting anything?”
“I’m thinking!” Harry snapped crossly. The waitress rolled her eyes and popped her gum. This was too much trouble for a part-time job that only paid the minimum wage.
Chocolate or strawberry? Harry mused. Chocolate was always the pity-party staple. But at least strawberry would give him an illusion of healthiness to his pigging out. Harry frowned. Fucking hell. He looked up distractedly when someone approached the stall and leaned on the counter next to him.
“Oh, hey, Kewell,” the newcomer nodded at him.
Harry’s gaze darkened, but he still greeted back, “Hey, Stevie.”
“Getting ice cream?”
Harry slumped tiredly. “You go first.”
Stevie shrugged and smiled at the waitress, “Three scoops of chocolate ice cream please. On a wafer cone.”
The waitress nodded, obviously relieved to have a fully-functional customer, and attended to the order. “At least you could make up your mind,” she told Stevie, before pointedly glaring at Harry.
Harry threw up his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ll have chocolate too.”
“Sorry, laddie,” the old woman said, handing Stevie his cone, “That was the last of it.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” He screeched and turned to look at Stevie, “I wanted that!”
Stevie stopped mid-lick, “You made me go ahead!”
“So? You didn’t have to take what I was getting,” Harry retorted in irritation.
“Bloody hell, Harry, how was I supposed to know?” Stevie plopped a few coins on the counter and slid it to the waitress.
“You don’t care, as usual,” Harry shot back. “You just take and take and take and you always have to be first in everything.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Stevie demanded, getting riled up too. “There are ten million other flavours there.”
“I don’t care about the ten million other bloody flavours, I wanted that one, dammit.”
“You didn’t want it when you were just standing there and not ordering. You just want it because I have it.”
“For goodness’ sake, if you’re so dead-set on your chocolate, I’ll open you a new gallon,” the waitress interrupted in exasperation.
“I don’t want a new gallon,” Harry answered. “I want what’s mine and I saw that first.”
“Kewell, it’s just ice cream.”
“It’s not just about ice cream. It’s about the amazing Captain Steven Gerrard thinking everything he lays his eyes on should be his just because he’s big and fucking hard,” Harry explained almost hysterically, all his frustration just gushing out.
Stevie shook his head in disbelief and walked away. “I’m not even bothering with this.”
“The chocolate doesn’t fucking even want you anyway!” Harry called out furiously, but Stevie just kept on walking, licking at Harry’s ice cream.
Harry huffed, trying to calm himself down. The waitress looked at him sceptically. “You want strawberry? It’s also one of our bestsellers.”
Harry growled at her. “I’m not hungry anymore.” He spun around on his heel and stalked off. His stomach growled loudly as he was waiting in the bus stop, but he ignored it. At least he won’t get fat, he thought bitterly.
*
Dan turned his face up to meet the hot blast of the shower, exhaling long and deep, letting the water ease the aching of his tired muscles. After a few long minutes under the stream, he turned off the tap and reached for the soap, working up a lather and scrubbing his body thoroughly to rid it of the mud and sweat.
It started by accident-his fingers unintentionally brushing over his member as he bent down to soap up his legs. But as he worked his way up, he let his hand touch it again, more deliberately now, gripping the flesh tightly. Dan let out a low groan, thankful he was in his own bathroom and not in the communal showers of the gym.
He let his eyes drift close, thinking back on today’s training session. He had just stormed back into the locker room, still livid about Stevie’s crude trick. And when he had entered, he was met with the sight of Carra, Sami and Riise practically rolling on the floor, laughing their heads off, tears running down their cheeks. -But they weren’t important details because, bloody hell, Dan wasn’t going to wank off to them.
What was replaying in his head was when he had stomped into the shower room, furious and humiliated and just really needing to hit something, someone, even more so if it was an aging Finn, two mumbling Scousers and a Ginger. But he had just walked into an empty stall, angrily throwing his shower kit on the floor, the toiletries scattering on the tiled floor. Cursing loudly, he had bent down to fix his things when suddenly-
“Short temper?”
Dan hadn’t even needed to look up to know who it was. But he had, because, well, Fernando wasn’t going to take a bath fully-clothed, was he? And damn, when you’re crouching down on the floor and Fernando’s standing above you, that really was quite the angle.
Dan’s grip on his cock grew tighter and he gave a few strong tugs, his breath becoming shorter. He let his other hand roam to his neck, stroking at the sensitive skin before snaking over his chest, and flicking over a nipple.
Dan had slowly stood up and glared at Fernando who only smiled, much to his annoyance. They had held each other’s gazes steadily, neither one daring to blink first, much less look away. Then, Fernando had reached around Dan and opened the shower, the water suddenly bearing down above them, but neither of them had insomuch as flinched.
“You really didn’t think I was going to fool around with Stevie, did you?” Fernando had been the first to speak up.
Dan had retorted. “It seemed too real to just be pretend.” Then, Dan had let his hands hook around Fernando’s waist, cupping his ass possessively.
Fernando had moaned and it had sent darts of pleasure to Daniel’s cock. Daniel had yanked him close and crashed their lips together, kissing passionately, tongues slipping against each other’s fervently.
“Did you hit him?” Fernando had asked softly, breathlessly, as they broke apart.
Daniel had shaken his head, tucking a wet lock of hair behind the Spaniard’s ear. “Do you want me to?”
Fernando had looked at him in this way he couldn’t explain and then he slowly braced Dan against the wall, tiles cool against his damp back, and the Spaniard had dropped to his knees, just like in the hallway, earlier that day, but this time-
Daniel let out a loud groan, echoing in the bathroom, as tugged at his cock more frantically now, his grip slick with the soap and hot water and pre-come dripping generously from the head. He placed one hand against the wall for balance, before he tightened his right hand into a loose fist and thrust into it, eyes wedged shut, trying to remember the way Fernando had looked when he devoured his cock whole into his mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dan cursed as he started thrusting into his hand faster. The feeling wasn’t the same, wasn’t as mind-blowing, but the memory was practically burned to his mind, replaying over and over again every chance it got, and his right hand was all he had right now.
Groaning loudly one last time, he came weakly, come splattering all over the wall and dribbling down his legs. Dan let himself slump tiredly against the wall to catch his breath. After he came down from his high, he cleaned himself, dried off and stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping the towel tightly around his waist.
“Enjoyed yourself?” A teasing voice spoke out, and Dan practically jumped out of his skin.
“Jesus Christ, Finns! What the hell are you doing here?” Dan demanded, cheeks flushing a bright red as he realized how loud he must have been.
“Your dad let me in, and I was waiting for you to finish your bath.” The Irishman looked pointedly at Dan’s crotch, “No wonder you took so long.”
Dan busied himself with taking out a fresh pair of clothes to hide his embarrassment.
“Jacking off to Fernando?” Finns asked again, eyes following Dan’s every move around the room.
“No!” Dan denied almost too quickly, dropping his towel to the floor and slipping on a pair of boxers and an old shirt.
“Jacking off to me, then?” Finns pressed.
Dan’s head whipped around to look at his best friend. “No,” he said again, eyeing Finns. “What’s up with you? You’re acting differently.”
Finns sighed and threw himself on Dan’s bed, plopping a pillow over his face to muffle a frustrated scream. “My mom wanted me to start writing practice essays for the entrance exams. And she’s been nagging me to try a couple of universities in the US too, so that would mean I’d have to take the SATs. Have you seen the SATs?? And I have to cut a 2300 if I even want to be on the waiting list of Yale.”
Dan plopped down next to him on the bed and pat his head consolingly. “You want a smoke?”
Finns frowned. “I told you I’ve quit.”
Dan rolled his eyes and brought out a packet of cigarettes he had bummed off Xabi this morning. “You also said we should quit fucking each other but just now you were suggesting that I wank off to you.” Dan handed Finns a cigarette stick and raised an eyebrow, “We both know you’re not a man of your word.”
Finns looked at the cigarette, then at Daniel. He sighed and snatched the stick from Dan’s fingers. “Fine. But just because I’m stressed,” he grumbled. He sat up and dug into the drawer of Dan’s night table for his lighter. He knew the boy’s room inside out. He may not have been in here as often as before, but nothing seemed to have changed. He lit his cigarette, took a long drag. He sighed in relief, relishing the sharp scent of nicotine flooding his nostrils again. Dan grinned at him smugly.
“What?” Finns yelped innocently.
Dan shook his head. “Oh, Stephen. You’re still so easy.”
Finns scowled. “I’m not easy. I’m only having one cigarette.” Dan glanced at him, unconvinced. Finns rolled his eyes. “Just one! And I was only joking about you wanking off to me. I said we’re over and I meant it.”
Dan shrugged and laid back against the pillows, watching the smoke he blew dissipate into the air.
Finns uneasily broke the silence, but he tried to make it sound like an off-hand comment. “So you were wanking off to Fernando.”
The Irishman held his breath. Waited for Dan to disagree or joke that, no, it was Finns, and he was masturbating to the memory of all the times they fucked on this very bed and that very bathroom (and the closet, and the desk, and the window sill and against the bedroom door).
But the younger man didn’t even bother replying. Finns turned to face Dan and he was staring off into nothingness, fingers absentmindedly playing with his cigarette, a sated grin spread across his face. Maybe that was really all the answer Finns needed.
*
Xabi was just about to head to the exit when he noticed the lights were still on in the tunnel. Wondering who could still be here at this time of the night, he went down the corridor and pushed open the door leading to the pitch. A blast of cold air hit him and hugging his jacket closer to his body, he went outside. A dark figure was already there, standing along the sidelines, looking solemnly at the empty stands.
He really should have turned around and walked away. It felt like a private moment he was intruding on. But this may be his only chance, so against his better judgment, Xabi spoke up.
“The atmosphere’s going to be electric tomorrow night.”
The man turned around, surprised that he wasn’t alone. When he saw it was Xabi, he just nodded briefly before returning his gaze on the stadium. Xabi sighed and approached his captain, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
Stevie scuffed his shoe on the concrete. “I just want this season to be perfect.”
Xabi rubbed the small of Stevie’s back soothingly. “It will be. You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I’m not-” Stevie paused, sighed then relented. “Maybe a little.”
Xabi smiled. “I can read you too well.”
Stevie shook his head, laughing bitterly, “I wish I could say the same for myself.”
Xabi stood there, stunned, a pang of guilt slicing through his insides. He guessed the issue couldn’t stay unmentioned for long.
Stevie rubbed his temples and tried again. “So, why are you still here this late?”
“I talked to Rafa,” Xabi answered, relief evident in his voice that the topic had been shelved, at least for now. “I sorted some things out with him. Apologized.”
Stevie nodded. “That’s great, Xabs,” he offered a small, genuine smile.
“Rafa told me about what happened,” Xabi took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have stood up for me.”
Stevie replied softly. “You know I couldn’t do that.”
“Are you... are you still mad at me?”
Stevie laughed bitterly at himself. “You know I couldn’t do that either.”
“You aren’t even looking at me.”
Stevie grunted and reluctantly tore his gaze away from the stadium, only to meet Xabi’s eyes for a split-second before averting it again.
“See?” Xabi cried out helplessly.
Stevie threw his hands up in the air in frustration, “Jesus, Xabi, I can’t, okay?” He paced away from Xabi and plopped down on the bench, gripping the sides tightly. “If I look at you, I won’t be able to hold out any longer. And I don’t want to do that because I still want an explanation from you.”
Xabi remained rooted in the spot, burying his face in his hands, trying to gather all his strength-honesty-but he couldn’t find any.
“I at least deserve it, Xabi,” Stevie said, shoulders sagging, the hard edge in his voice dissipating.
“Stevie,” Xabi approached his captain on the team dugout. And he wondered why nobody ever told him this wouldn’t be easy. Stevie looked up at him finally. And he looked up at him expectantly. And now, Xabi was beginning to wish he hadn’t.
“Don’t you love me anymore, Xabi? Is that it?” Stevie blurted out, and he seemed embarrassed at seeming so vulnerable, but it had to be asked.
Xabi’s jaw dropped. “No!” He sank down on the bench next to Stevie and laid his hand on Stevie’s knee. “Far from it.”
“Then what’s happening?” Stevie asked in frustration. “This doesn’t feel like any other fight we’ve had before.” And Stevie didn’t want to admit it, but that fact scared him. Not a lot of things could do that.
Xabi wanted to die inside. How could Stevie just sit there with his heart in his hand? He couldn’t return that gesture with the truth-not when it would be a spit in the eye, a slap to the face.
“Nothing’s happening, baby,” Xabi took Stevie’s hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around you, the boys, the team. I’ve just...” He took a deep breath and stared straight at Stevie, unblinking, “I’ve just needed a break-” Stevie’s eyes widened, but Xabi continued quickly, “From football.”
Stevie blinked. “Why?”
Xabi shrugged and even he was shocked at how easily the words rolled off his tongue. “I can’t stand the pressure, Stevie. Masch has been massive these last few weeks in training, and I know Rafa really wants him to take my position. And Lucas and Momo are competing for CM too. It’s just...” Xabi sighed and prepared for the final blow. “I’m so used to playing alongside you, I’m so scared I might lose that chance.”
Stevie sat motionless for a while. And Xabi’s heart raced because what if Stevie knew better than Xabi gave him credit for?
“Xabi, I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m not stupid.” Stevie said steadily. “But I don’t want to get to the point where I’m wondering if you’re telling me the truth. I don’t like feeling like I can’t trust you. I’m not that type of person.”
Stevie sighed and continued, “No bullshit. Pure and simple-” Xabi saw Stevie momentarily glance down at their clasped hands, “Just tell me that things are fine between us and I’ll believe you.”
Xabi’s grip on Stevie’s hand tightened fiercely. Their palms were cold and clammy, and it probably wasn’t because the night was freezing.
“Stevie, you have nothing to worry about.”
*
“Leave.”
Fernando removed his earphones. “Excuse me?”
“Well?” Harry asked impatiently. “What are you waiting for? Unless you have plans of watching. I don’t mind an audience.”
Harry stood by the doorway, tapping his foot. Around his arm was this freshman Fernando’s sure he’s seen in school. She couldn’t be missed. Her skirt was around 6 inches above the regulation length. And how she looked delighted now, giggling flirtatiously as she eyed both Harry and Fernando
“What? Here? I need sleep!” Fernando yelped. “I have a game tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there to cheer you guys on,” the girl interrupted, popping her gum and winking at the Spaniard.
Fernando and Harry exchanged weary looks. The striker sighed and stood up. He smirked as he passed by Harry to get his jacket, muttering under his breath, “I see you’ve moved on from smart brunettes to blonde airheads.”
“Yeah, next thing you know, I’ll be banging you next,” Harry sneered back.
“I wouldn’t let you touch me.”
“Oh, is that what you tell Daniel too?” Harry shot back, knowing full well that the two hadn’t slept together yet. “Because I can assure you Finns is perfectly willing to give Agger a good fuck if you don’t put out soon.”
“You fucking bastard,” Fernando shoved him away angrily as he made his way to the door.
“We won’t be long,” Harry waved him off. “You can come back before curfew.”
“You bet I had better. If I miss tomorrow’s game-well, Stevie has enough reasons for tracking you down and castrating you,” Fernando warned before leaving their dorm room, slamming the door after him.
*
“So, how are you doing?” Finns propped himself up on one elbow, absently tracing the pattern of Dan’s duvet.
“I’m okay,” Dan shrugged and sighed. “It’s just that-Do you promise not to laugh at me?”
“Of course not,” The Irishman sat up and looked down at Dan who was lying down on the bed next to him.
“I...” Dan trailed off and a hint of pink spread across his cheeks. “I can’t stop thinking about Fernando, it’s driving me crazy.”
Finns was taken aback. He wasn’t expecting that. Well, he was, but he didn’t expect the confession to be so straightforward.
“That’s so unlike you,” was the only thing Finns could mumble out.
“I know!” Dan plopped a pillow above his face and groaned. “Stevie was flirting with him this afternoon and something in me snapped-”
“When they got Harry to flirt with me, you didn’t do anything,” Finns murmured.
“-The other day in Chemistry, we were studying moles and I couldn’t concentrate because all I kept thinking about was freckles. Fernando has freckles on his hipbone that I’ve been dying to lick since I saw it during training. And History is probably the only class I’ve ever looked forward to attending, just because he’s there, even if Pepe’s a big turd and insists on sitting between us. And when I see him in school, I swear to god, it takes every last ounce of self-control not to bang him against the nearest flat surface,” Dan continued in one long, breathless gush.
“Oh. Wow.” Finns blinked. “Well, maybe it’s not so bad. Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way?” He prodded.
Surely, you must have felt like that when were together, Finns added to himself. Sure, he didn’t have any features that were associable to a concept in Chemistry. (What was so great with freckles anyway? Didn’t they know it was a melatonin malfunction? Why in the world was that sexy?) And sure, he didn’t have any classes with Dan because they weren’t in the same year. But Dan must have wanted to fuck him every chance he got, right?
“Well, no.” Dan said bluntly. He admitted, “This feels different.”
The Irishman’s jaw dropped. He found himself scowling. “You’re gross. I never had you for a sap, Daniel.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed in the Dane’s eyes, but he bit his lip reluctantly. He didn’t take shit from anyone, but Finns was his best friend.
“You think so?” Dan asked.
“Of course!” Finns said. “I can’t believe you’re letting yourself get caught up in this. Have you fucked him yet?”
Dan frowned. “No.”
“What? Why not?”
“It just hasn’t happened yet.”
Finns stared at the younger boy in disbelief. “What else is there?”
Dan seemed as if he were about to protest, but he just shut his mouth and shrugged listlessly.
“Well, then, that’s it,” Finns shrugged. “Just fuck him and be done with it. Trust me, all this nauseating mushy crap will fade away in no time.”
Dan picked at a stray thread on his comforter. “I guess you’re right.”
Finns let his fingers caress Dan’s cheek. Dan looked up in confusion, but Finns just placed a kiss on his forehead. “Danny, would I lie to you?”
Dan sighed and lit himself a cigarette. He was getting stressed. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Good,” Finns said, sounding relieved. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
“About what?” Dan asked, lazily breathing out the smoke.
“Well,” Finns stammered unsurely. About us?
But the shrill beeping of Dan’s mobile sliced through the conversation.
“Go on,” Dan motioned, as he quickly checked who had texted him.
“I was just thinking,” Finns took a deep breath, “Maybe we should start hanging out again.”
“We do hang out,” Dan mumbled distractedly reading the message from his phone. “We hang out a lot, actually.”
“That’s not what I mean!” It was embarrassing enough already without having to spell it out for Daniel.
“Hm?” Dan looked up briefly from texting.
“Who’s texted you now?” Finns said exasperatedly.
Dan smiled sheepishly, “Can you just give me a minute?”
Finns sighed and nodded. Dan hopped off the bed, stubbing his half-finished cigarette on his desk. Dan would never leave a smoke unless it was important.
“Hey.” Finns heard Dan say with almost a disarming gentleness to the tone. “Are you alright? You sounded furious in your message. ...Oh, Harry again, huh?” Dan laughed. “Do you want me to meet up with you? I could keep you company.”
Finns’ jaw dropped. He tossed a pillow at Dan. It hit him square in the back. Dan spun around and threw him a dirty look.
“No, it’s fine. It’s not a hassle, really,” Dan said.
Finns stalked up to Dan and hissed in his ear, “Grovelling? You’re pathetic, Agger.”
Dan looked up and shoved him away in irritation, flipping him a finger. “Sure, I’ll meet you there in 15. Okay, bye.”
Dan snapped close his mobile and glared at Finns. “What is up your ass, Finnan?”
He stalked to his closet and brought out a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt. Finns tried not to stare as his best friend dressed up.
“I suppose you’re off to meet up with your Spaniard,” Finns said wryly.
“Yeah, I am,” Dan said matter-of-factly. He slipped on his trainers, “I don’t suppose you’ll have a problem with that, right?”
Finns laughed off the question, but Dan stared at him, waiting for a response.
“Why the bloody hell would I care?” Finns retorted.
“You tell me,” Dan said, spritzing himself with some perfume. “You’re the one acting fucked up.”
Finns sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s just talk about it when you’re done acting like such a horny bastard.”
He nodded at Dan curtly then left without another word. Dan stared after him in disbelief. What had just happened here?
*
Dan smiled to himself as he spotted Fernando curled in a couch in the corner of the coffee shop. He walked over to him-it felt like he couldn’t get there fast enough and his legs were as heavy as lead.
Fernando looked up and a smile spread across his features, “Dan, hey.” He scooted over to give the defender some space. Dan sank down on the couch next to him and collected him in his arms. Fernando happily nestled in.
“Bad day?”
“Yes,” Fernando grumbled.
“Are you going to wait here all night for Harry to finish?”
“Yes,” Fernando said again.
“You want me to go back with you to your dorm room and I can rough Harry up for you?” Dan offered.
Fernando laughed. “Nah. Let him be. At least he’s not shagging Xabi anymore.”
“He’s not-WHAT?”
“Yes!” Fernando said, relieved he finally had someone to tell. “Do you know how stressful it is seeing them get together every night in my bedroom?”
Dan shook his head incredulously. “Shit.”
“Exactly,” Fernando replied, tugging Dan’s jacket and pressing himself closer against Dan’s chest. A warm, tingling feeling spread all over Dan and he thought that maybe Finns was right. He had become an insufferable, romantic bastard. But maybe it wasn’t all that bad.
Dan placed a soft kiss on Fernando’s forehead before he could stop himself. “Do you want to crash at my place instead?”
Fernando regarded him unsurely. “I’m fine just waiting here.”
“Come on,” Dan insisted. “I can drop you off at the dorm tomorrow morning just before we head to the pre-match training.”
Fernando shrugged and grinned, “Sure thing.”
They untangled themselves from each other and stood up. And Dan couldn’t remember who reached out first but walking out of the cafe, they had somehow linked hands and neither made the move to pull away.
*
“Do you want anything to eat?” Dan asked, flitting to the pantry and the refrigerator and he wondered why he was such a nervous wreck.
Fernando leaned against the counter and stared at the defender in confusion. “Are you alright, Daniel?”
“What?” Dan smiled, compulsively putting out a number of food items on the table. “Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
Fernando shrugged and twisted open the lid of a random jar. “What is this?”
Dan stopped and approached Fernando, examined the bottle in his hands. “It’s Nutella, genius.”
“What’s that?” The Spaniard asked, sniffing at the gooey, brown substance suspiciously.
“Chocolate spread?”
“...Spread?”
“On bread?”
“Why would anyone want chocolate on their bread?” Fernando asked in confusion.
Dan lifted a butter knife from the table, smeared some Nutella on a slice of bread and held it out for Fernando to taste. Fernando stared at it disgustedly.
“Just taste it,” Dan nagged.
Fernando rolled his eyes and leaned close, taking a tentative bite. He wrinkled his nose after a few chews. “That’s gross.”
Fernando dipped a spoon in the Nutella and took out a dollop. Dan shouldn’t really have stared, but Fernando was staring at his chocolate-coated spoon so intently. And then that pink tongue darted out to lick at the top, and Dan had to grip the edge of the counter tightly to keep himself level-headed.
“It tastes better by itself,” Fernando said thoughtfully, licking his lips. That fucking tease.
“Uh, great, that’s great,” Dan stammered.
“You want some?” Fernando offered innocently.
‘Want some?’ Dan’s inner voice screamed hysterically. Absofuckinglutely he wanted some. He wanted to hold the boy down and smear him in sauce and just lick him all over and... Oh, god.
“Let’s go up to my room,” Dan said tightly.
“Wha-” Fernando protested, but Dan had dragged him up the stairs already. If his mother showed up at the kitchen unannounced and caught him licking Nutella off Fernando’s stomach, he’d be deported back to Denmark before he could even say “We’rejustHistorypartnersIpromise!”
Dan slammed the door behind him and locked it securely. He watched Fernando look around his room, intrigued, all the while still faithfully eating his chocolate spread.
“I’m sorry the bed’s a mess,” Dan said, hastily collecting all the cigarette butts and dumping them in the trash can. “Finns came over earlier.”
Fernando stopped and turned around, a curious expression upon his face. “Finns was here?” He asked strangely, watching Dan smooth out the bed covers and put the pillows back in place.
“Yeah,” Dan said nonchalantly. “He’s been dropping by more often because he’s getting stressed from all the graduate work load.”
Well, that did it. If Fernando wasn’t playing then, he was definitely competing now. For the fucking win.
He casually dipped his index finger in chocolate sauce and held it out for Danny. The defender froze. Fernando raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to turn away. And Dan, he would never back down from such a direct order. He smiled and obediently took the finger between his lips, letting his tongue run over every digit, licking it clean and then some.
“I didn’t know you had a food kink,” Fernando moaned as Dan lightly smeared Nutella over Fernando’s thin lips.
Dan bent down, tongue flicking teasingly over the sauce, before pressing their mouths together in a sticky, chocolate-coated kiss.
Dan broke away and smiled triumphantly at the dazed Spaniard, “Trust me, I didn’t know I had a food kink either.”
Fernando grinned and stepped back, effortlessly shrugging off his jacket. Then his shirt. His belt and jeans and shoes and socks were quick to follow. Dan stood there, blinking, trying to regain some sense of it all. But Fernando climbed on his bed and spread out on the sheets and looked at him in this innocently come-hither sort of way that made Dan feel dirty, but he didn’t care.
“Fuck me,” Fernando said simply.
Dan struggled to strip off as well and climbed on the bed. He nervously straddled Fernando, “We have a game tomorrow.”
“So?” Fernando asked, lying down underneath the defender.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Dan breathed.
Fernando hesitated and for a moment, he felt unsure. “-Don’t you want me?” Is it because of Finns? He added silently.
Dan’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. “God, no, of course I want you.” He let his hands caress down Fernando’s side. The Spaniard arched ever so slightly.
“Then what is it?”
Dan took a deep breath. I don’t want to fuck you because I want to show you you’re more than just a one-night stand?
...Where the fuck was this crap coming from?
Fernando deftly hooked one leg around his waist and pulled him down. His eyes were dark with lust and Dan didn’t miss the way his erection pressed against his hip.
“Oh, fuck it.” Dan groaned and held Fernando down against the mattress.
Feedback. ♥
For drbillbongo, for getting me addicted to McFly's covers. :P
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso/Harry Kewell, Steve Finnan/Daniel Agger
Characters: The entire Liverpool squad.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: None of this is real. I don’t own the boys.
A/N: University AU | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
I found out, we’re all breaking hearts. We’re all broken hearts.
D. Agger has started a conference.
A. Arbeloa: Are you sure we should be doing this?
P. Crouch: It’s computer class. We’re using computers. What’s wrong with that?
D. Kuyt: Besides, the school gave us our own messenger IDs. Surely we have their blessing.
Y. Benny Noon: THE SCHOOL GOT MY NAME WRONG.
P. Crouch: Where the fuck are Dan and Fernando?
J. Reina: Do you really want to know?
F. Torres: We can read your messages, you know.
D. Kuyt: Oh, shoot, I just missed what Big Sam said. What the fuck is a fruit loop statement?
D. Agger: FOR LOOP, KUYT. Jesus Christ.
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
Y. Benny Noon: IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?
J. Reina: Forchrissakes, who the fuck is this Benny doing some serious capslock abuse?
Y. Benny Noon: SEQWEIAPDIAPSIQPWUEQWDADAIUAOUEQOWEPAPODPAOFPQADASAFQERFEFRP
J. Reina: Dagger, can you remove this hacker? I think it’s a bug.
D. Kuyt: I don’t understand anything Big Sam is saying! Remind me why we’re taking C-Language again.
D. Agger: Bloody hell, Kuyt. Just copy-paste this.
#include (stdio.h)
main(void)
{
int num;
for(num=1; num<=10; num ++)
printf (“%d”, num);
getch();
}
P. Crouch: Oh, hey. Thanks, Danny.
A. Arbeloa: Thanks, Danny.
J. Reina: Thanks, Danny.
D. Kuyt: Thanks, Danny.
Y. Benny Noon: THANKS, DANNY.
F. Torres: Thanks, Danny.
D. Agger: Leechers, all of you.
F. Torres: I owe you one.
J. Reina: OHAI, KEEP IT IN, BOYS. No promising of sexual favours while we’re all here, plzkthx.
D. Agger: Stop talking like you’re a 15-year-old girl on Myspace, Pepe.
J. Reina: Fuck off.
F. Torres: And I was not proposing sexual favours. I’m not a slut, thanks very much.
D. Agger: And I was not accepting sexual favours. I’m not... Okay, well, I am. But, yeah.
P. Crouch has left the conference.
D. Kuyt has left the conference.
A. Arbeloa has left the conference.
J. Reina has left the conference.
F. Torres: Well, fuck.
F. Torres has left the conference.
D. Agger has left the conference.
Y. Benny Noon: WHERE IS EVERYONE?
Y. Benny Noon: HELLO?
Y. Benny Noon: GUYS?
Y. Benny Noon: I AM NOT A BUG.
Y. Benny Noon: ...HELLO?
*
Xabi’s phone rang persistently for about the third straight time. He didn’t even need to check the name to know who was calling him.
“Well, aren’t you answering that?” Pepe asked, busily pulling off his gloves.
Xabi looked at his mobile, buzzing again, and shrugged. “Nah, it’s not important.”
“Can’t be unimportant if it keeps ringing.” A voice pointed out. Xabi glanced up, and it was Stevie, sitting on the bench, kicking off his muddy boots. Xabi offered a small smile, but Stevie just went back to untying the stubborn knot of his left shoe.
Ignoring the pang of hurt, Xabi turned around and grabbed his phone. “What?” he hissed down the line.
“Why, hello to you too,” a cheery voice greeted. “Is training finished? Because I’m almost done here at the paper too.”
“Yeah, training’s over.” Xabi gnawed at his bottom lip and looked around. Stevie was still avoiding his gaze but he knew he was probably listening in as closely as he could.
“Do you wanna hang out?” Harry asked, and Xabi could faintly hear the rustling of paper being shuffled and rearranged.
The Spaniard took a deep breath. “I can’t.”
A pause. “Why not?”
“Ha-” Xabi caught himself before he said Harry’s name. “I just can’t. I... I have to run extra laps,” he quickly fibbed.
“I can wait,” Harry said nonchalantly.
“No, you can’t,” Xabi blurted out.
An exasperated grunt. “What’s going on?”
Xabi momentarily put down his phone and made his way to the corridor where he could talk to Harry in private. He met Stevie’s gaze as he was crossing the locker room. The captain shook his head and just shrugged at him helplessly. Ducking his head, ashamed, Xabi hurriedly exited.
“What’s going on?” Harry was asking again.
“Look, Rafa found me out,” Xabi retorted.
“Oh, shit. Xabi, I’m sorry.”
“Exactly,” Xabi threw a hand up in the air, “I’m this close to losing a spot in the starting line-up, so, no, I can’t meet up with you tonight. Or anytime soon.”
“What?” Harry demanded. “I understand lying low and putting your best foot forward for the Chelsea game. But... ever?” He trailed off in frustrated confusion.
“Because! Harry, I want some sense of my normal life back, don’t you get it?” Xabi asked, getting riled up increasingly. “I want to be on form again and understand my Algebra. I want to get to training on time and not miss class.”
“Look, I apologise that you got caught cutting. I really am,” Harry said sincerely. “But why do we have to stop meeting each other? What does that have to do with your grades, or your form on the pitch?” Harry sighed, “I don’t know how to explain this. But if you want your normal life back, sure. Go for it. But why can’t I be part of it?”
Xabi rested his head against the cool wall. “Because I already have Stevie.”
“And Stevie is your ‘normal life,’” Harry laughed bitterly.
“No!”
“Then what is it?” Harry demanded.
Xabi gritted his teeth. “Hey, when we started seeing each other, you knew I was with Stevie, and you knew I wasn’t going to give that up anytime soon.”
It seemed like Harry was going to argue back, but he stopped, sighed and gave up. “Fine. Call me when you need someone to fuck around with again,” he snapped, and then the line went dead.
*
Harry stared off moodily into the colourful array of ice cream and huffed. This was such a dilemma. To buy or not to buy dessert? It was bad enough that he was dumped, he didn’t want to be fat too. But on the other hand, bingeing was the only thing he could think of to make himself feel better. Harry huffed again.
“Well?” The waitress asked impatiently. “Are you getting anything?”
“I’m thinking!” Harry snapped crossly. The waitress rolled her eyes and popped her gum. This was too much trouble for a part-time job that only paid the minimum wage.
Chocolate or strawberry? Harry mused. Chocolate was always the pity-party staple. But at least strawberry would give him an illusion of healthiness to his pigging out. Harry frowned. Fucking hell. He looked up distractedly when someone approached the stall and leaned on the counter next to him.
“Oh, hey, Kewell,” the newcomer nodded at him.
Harry’s gaze darkened, but he still greeted back, “Hey, Stevie.”
“Getting ice cream?”
Harry slumped tiredly. “You go first.”
Stevie shrugged and smiled at the waitress, “Three scoops of chocolate ice cream please. On a wafer cone.”
The waitress nodded, obviously relieved to have a fully-functional customer, and attended to the order. “At least you could make up your mind,” she told Stevie, before pointedly glaring at Harry.
Harry threw up his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ll have chocolate too.”
“Sorry, laddie,” the old woman said, handing Stevie his cone, “That was the last of it.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” He screeched and turned to look at Stevie, “I wanted that!”
Stevie stopped mid-lick, “You made me go ahead!”
“So? You didn’t have to take what I was getting,” Harry retorted in irritation.
“Bloody hell, Harry, how was I supposed to know?” Stevie plopped a few coins on the counter and slid it to the waitress.
“You don’t care, as usual,” Harry shot back. “You just take and take and take and you always have to be first in everything.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Stevie demanded, getting riled up too. “There are ten million other flavours there.”
“I don’t care about the ten million other bloody flavours, I wanted that one, dammit.”
“You didn’t want it when you were just standing there and not ordering. You just want it because I have it.”
“For goodness’ sake, if you’re so dead-set on your chocolate, I’ll open you a new gallon,” the waitress interrupted in exasperation.
“I don’t want a new gallon,” Harry answered. “I want what’s mine and I saw that first.”
“Kewell, it’s just ice cream.”
“It’s not just about ice cream. It’s about the amazing Captain Steven Gerrard thinking everything he lays his eyes on should be his just because he’s big and fucking hard,” Harry explained almost hysterically, all his frustration just gushing out.
Stevie shook his head in disbelief and walked away. “I’m not even bothering with this.”
“The chocolate doesn’t fucking even want you anyway!” Harry called out furiously, but Stevie just kept on walking, licking at Harry’s ice cream.
Harry huffed, trying to calm himself down. The waitress looked at him sceptically. “You want strawberry? It’s also one of our bestsellers.”
Harry growled at her. “I’m not hungry anymore.” He spun around on his heel and stalked off. His stomach growled loudly as he was waiting in the bus stop, but he ignored it. At least he won’t get fat, he thought bitterly.
*
Dan turned his face up to meet the hot blast of the shower, exhaling long and deep, letting the water ease the aching of his tired muscles. After a few long minutes under the stream, he turned off the tap and reached for the soap, working up a lather and scrubbing his body thoroughly to rid it of the mud and sweat.
It started by accident-his fingers unintentionally brushing over his member as he bent down to soap up his legs. But as he worked his way up, he let his hand touch it again, more deliberately now, gripping the flesh tightly. Dan let out a low groan, thankful he was in his own bathroom and not in the communal showers of the gym.
He let his eyes drift close, thinking back on today’s training session. He had just stormed back into the locker room, still livid about Stevie’s crude trick. And when he had entered, he was met with the sight of Carra, Sami and Riise practically rolling on the floor, laughing their heads off, tears running down their cheeks. -But they weren’t important details because, bloody hell, Dan wasn’t going to wank off to them.
What was replaying in his head was when he had stomped into the shower room, furious and humiliated and just really needing to hit something, someone, even more so if it was an aging Finn, two mumbling Scousers and a Ginger. But he had just walked into an empty stall, angrily throwing his shower kit on the floor, the toiletries scattering on the tiled floor. Cursing loudly, he had bent down to fix his things when suddenly-
“Short temper?”
Dan hadn’t even needed to look up to know who it was. But he had, because, well, Fernando wasn’t going to take a bath fully-clothed, was he? And damn, when you’re crouching down on the floor and Fernando’s standing above you, that really was quite the angle.
Dan’s grip on his cock grew tighter and he gave a few strong tugs, his breath becoming shorter. He let his other hand roam to his neck, stroking at the sensitive skin before snaking over his chest, and flicking over a nipple.
Dan had slowly stood up and glared at Fernando who only smiled, much to his annoyance. They had held each other’s gazes steadily, neither one daring to blink first, much less look away. Then, Fernando had reached around Dan and opened the shower, the water suddenly bearing down above them, but neither of them had insomuch as flinched.
“You really didn’t think I was going to fool around with Stevie, did you?” Fernando had been the first to speak up.
Dan had retorted. “It seemed too real to just be pretend.” Then, Dan had let his hands hook around Fernando’s waist, cupping his ass possessively.
Fernando had moaned and it had sent darts of pleasure to Daniel’s cock. Daniel had yanked him close and crashed their lips together, kissing passionately, tongues slipping against each other’s fervently.
“Did you hit him?” Fernando had asked softly, breathlessly, as they broke apart.
Daniel had shaken his head, tucking a wet lock of hair behind the Spaniard’s ear. “Do you want me to?”
Fernando had looked at him in this way he couldn’t explain and then he slowly braced Dan against the wall, tiles cool against his damp back, and the Spaniard had dropped to his knees, just like in the hallway, earlier that day, but this time-
Daniel let out a loud groan, echoing in the bathroom, as tugged at his cock more frantically now, his grip slick with the soap and hot water and pre-come dripping generously from the head. He placed one hand against the wall for balance, before he tightened his right hand into a loose fist and thrust into it, eyes wedged shut, trying to remember the way Fernando had looked when he devoured his cock whole into his mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dan cursed as he started thrusting into his hand faster. The feeling wasn’t the same, wasn’t as mind-blowing, but the memory was practically burned to his mind, replaying over and over again every chance it got, and his right hand was all he had right now.
Groaning loudly one last time, he came weakly, come splattering all over the wall and dribbling down his legs. Dan let himself slump tiredly against the wall to catch his breath. After he came down from his high, he cleaned himself, dried off and stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping the towel tightly around his waist.
“Enjoyed yourself?” A teasing voice spoke out, and Dan practically jumped out of his skin.
“Jesus Christ, Finns! What the hell are you doing here?” Dan demanded, cheeks flushing a bright red as he realized how loud he must have been.
“Your dad let me in, and I was waiting for you to finish your bath.” The Irishman looked pointedly at Dan’s crotch, “No wonder you took so long.”
Dan busied himself with taking out a fresh pair of clothes to hide his embarrassment.
“Jacking off to Fernando?” Finns asked again, eyes following Dan’s every move around the room.
“No!” Dan denied almost too quickly, dropping his towel to the floor and slipping on a pair of boxers and an old shirt.
“Jacking off to me, then?” Finns pressed.
Dan’s head whipped around to look at his best friend. “No,” he said again, eyeing Finns. “What’s up with you? You’re acting differently.”
Finns sighed and threw himself on Dan’s bed, plopping a pillow over his face to muffle a frustrated scream. “My mom wanted me to start writing practice essays for the entrance exams. And she’s been nagging me to try a couple of universities in the US too, so that would mean I’d have to take the SATs. Have you seen the SATs?? And I have to cut a 2300 if I even want to be on the waiting list of Yale.”
Dan plopped down next to him on the bed and pat his head consolingly. “You want a smoke?”
Finns frowned. “I told you I’ve quit.”
Dan rolled his eyes and brought out a packet of cigarettes he had bummed off Xabi this morning. “You also said we should quit fucking each other but just now you were suggesting that I wank off to you.” Dan handed Finns a cigarette stick and raised an eyebrow, “We both know you’re not a man of your word.”
Finns looked at the cigarette, then at Daniel. He sighed and snatched the stick from Dan’s fingers. “Fine. But just because I’m stressed,” he grumbled. He sat up and dug into the drawer of Dan’s night table for his lighter. He knew the boy’s room inside out. He may not have been in here as often as before, but nothing seemed to have changed. He lit his cigarette, took a long drag. He sighed in relief, relishing the sharp scent of nicotine flooding his nostrils again. Dan grinned at him smugly.
“What?” Finns yelped innocently.
Dan shook his head. “Oh, Stephen. You’re still so easy.”
Finns scowled. “I’m not easy. I’m only having one cigarette.” Dan glanced at him, unconvinced. Finns rolled his eyes. “Just one! And I was only joking about you wanking off to me. I said we’re over and I meant it.”
Dan shrugged and laid back against the pillows, watching the smoke he blew dissipate into the air.
Finns uneasily broke the silence, but he tried to make it sound like an off-hand comment. “So you were wanking off to Fernando.”
The Irishman held his breath. Waited for Dan to disagree or joke that, no, it was Finns, and he was masturbating to the memory of all the times they fucked on this very bed and that very bathroom (and the closet, and the desk, and the window sill and against the bedroom door).
But the younger man didn’t even bother replying. Finns turned to face Dan and he was staring off into nothingness, fingers absentmindedly playing with his cigarette, a sated grin spread across his face. Maybe that was really all the answer Finns needed.
*
Xabi was just about to head to the exit when he noticed the lights were still on in the tunnel. Wondering who could still be here at this time of the night, he went down the corridor and pushed open the door leading to the pitch. A blast of cold air hit him and hugging his jacket closer to his body, he went outside. A dark figure was already there, standing along the sidelines, looking solemnly at the empty stands.
He really should have turned around and walked away. It felt like a private moment he was intruding on. But this may be his only chance, so against his better judgment, Xabi spoke up.
“The atmosphere’s going to be electric tomorrow night.”
The man turned around, surprised that he wasn’t alone. When he saw it was Xabi, he just nodded briefly before returning his gaze on the stadium. Xabi sighed and approached his captain, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
Stevie scuffed his shoe on the concrete. “I just want this season to be perfect.”
Xabi rubbed the small of Stevie’s back soothingly. “It will be. You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I’m not-” Stevie paused, sighed then relented. “Maybe a little.”
Xabi smiled. “I can read you too well.”
Stevie shook his head, laughing bitterly, “I wish I could say the same for myself.”
Xabi stood there, stunned, a pang of guilt slicing through his insides. He guessed the issue couldn’t stay unmentioned for long.
Stevie rubbed his temples and tried again. “So, why are you still here this late?”
“I talked to Rafa,” Xabi answered, relief evident in his voice that the topic had been shelved, at least for now. “I sorted some things out with him. Apologized.”
Stevie nodded. “That’s great, Xabs,” he offered a small, genuine smile.
“Rafa told me about what happened,” Xabi took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have stood up for me.”
Stevie replied softly. “You know I couldn’t do that.”
“Are you... are you still mad at me?”
Stevie laughed bitterly at himself. “You know I couldn’t do that either.”
“You aren’t even looking at me.”
Stevie grunted and reluctantly tore his gaze away from the stadium, only to meet Xabi’s eyes for a split-second before averting it again.
“See?” Xabi cried out helplessly.
Stevie threw his hands up in the air in frustration, “Jesus, Xabi, I can’t, okay?” He paced away from Xabi and plopped down on the bench, gripping the sides tightly. “If I look at you, I won’t be able to hold out any longer. And I don’t want to do that because I still want an explanation from you.”
Xabi remained rooted in the spot, burying his face in his hands, trying to gather all his strength-honesty-but he couldn’t find any.
“I at least deserve it, Xabi,” Stevie said, shoulders sagging, the hard edge in his voice dissipating.
“Stevie,” Xabi approached his captain on the team dugout. And he wondered why nobody ever told him this wouldn’t be easy. Stevie looked up at him finally. And he looked up at him expectantly. And now, Xabi was beginning to wish he hadn’t.
“Don’t you love me anymore, Xabi? Is that it?” Stevie blurted out, and he seemed embarrassed at seeming so vulnerable, but it had to be asked.
Xabi’s jaw dropped. “No!” He sank down on the bench next to Stevie and laid his hand on Stevie’s knee. “Far from it.”
“Then what’s happening?” Stevie asked in frustration. “This doesn’t feel like any other fight we’ve had before.” And Stevie didn’t want to admit it, but that fact scared him. Not a lot of things could do that.
Xabi wanted to die inside. How could Stevie just sit there with his heart in his hand? He couldn’t return that gesture with the truth-not when it would be a spit in the eye, a slap to the face.
“Nothing’s happening, baby,” Xabi took Stevie’s hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around you, the boys, the team. I’ve just...” He took a deep breath and stared straight at Stevie, unblinking, “I’ve just needed a break-” Stevie’s eyes widened, but Xabi continued quickly, “From football.”
Stevie blinked. “Why?”
Xabi shrugged and even he was shocked at how easily the words rolled off his tongue. “I can’t stand the pressure, Stevie. Masch has been massive these last few weeks in training, and I know Rafa really wants him to take my position. And Lucas and Momo are competing for CM too. It’s just...” Xabi sighed and prepared for the final blow. “I’m so used to playing alongside you, I’m so scared I might lose that chance.”
Stevie sat motionless for a while. And Xabi’s heart raced because what if Stevie knew better than Xabi gave him credit for?
“Xabi, I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m not stupid.” Stevie said steadily. “But I don’t want to get to the point where I’m wondering if you’re telling me the truth. I don’t like feeling like I can’t trust you. I’m not that type of person.”
Stevie sighed and continued, “No bullshit. Pure and simple-” Xabi saw Stevie momentarily glance down at their clasped hands, “Just tell me that things are fine between us and I’ll believe you.”
Xabi’s grip on Stevie’s hand tightened fiercely. Their palms were cold and clammy, and it probably wasn’t because the night was freezing.
“Stevie, you have nothing to worry about.”
*
“Leave.”
Fernando removed his earphones. “Excuse me?”
“Well?” Harry asked impatiently. “What are you waiting for? Unless you have plans of watching. I don’t mind an audience.”
Harry stood by the doorway, tapping his foot. Around his arm was this freshman Fernando’s sure he’s seen in school. She couldn’t be missed. Her skirt was around 6 inches above the regulation length. And how she looked delighted now, giggling flirtatiously as she eyed both Harry and Fernando
“What? Here? I need sleep!” Fernando yelped. “I have a game tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there to cheer you guys on,” the girl interrupted, popping her gum and winking at the Spaniard.
Fernando and Harry exchanged weary looks. The striker sighed and stood up. He smirked as he passed by Harry to get his jacket, muttering under his breath, “I see you’ve moved on from smart brunettes to blonde airheads.”
“Yeah, next thing you know, I’ll be banging you next,” Harry sneered back.
“I wouldn’t let you touch me.”
“Oh, is that what you tell Daniel too?” Harry shot back, knowing full well that the two hadn’t slept together yet. “Because I can assure you Finns is perfectly willing to give Agger a good fuck if you don’t put out soon.”
“You fucking bastard,” Fernando shoved him away angrily as he made his way to the door.
“We won’t be long,” Harry waved him off. “You can come back before curfew.”
“You bet I had better. If I miss tomorrow’s game-well, Stevie has enough reasons for tracking you down and castrating you,” Fernando warned before leaving their dorm room, slamming the door after him.
*
“So, how are you doing?” Finns propped himself up on one elbow, absently tracing the pattern of Dan’s duvet.
“I’m okay,” Dan shrugged and sighed. “It’s just that-Do you promise not to laugh at me?”
“Of course not,” The Irishman sat up and looked down at Dan who was lying down on the bed next to him.
“I...” Dan trailed off and a hint of pink spread across his cheeks. “I can’t stop thinking about Fernando, it’s driving me crazy.”
Finns was taken aback. He wasn’t expecting that. Well, he was, but he didn’t expect the confession to be so straightforward.
“That’s so unlike you,” was the only thing Finns could mumble out.
“I know!” Dan plopped a pillow above his face and groaned. “Stevie was flirting with him this afternoon and something in me snapped-”
“When they got Harry to flirt with me, you didn’t do anything,” Finns murmured.
“-The other day in Chemistry, we were studying moles and I couldn’t concentrate because all I kept thinking about was freckles. Fernando has freckles on his hipbone that I’ve been dying to lick since I saw it during training. And History is probably the only class I’ve ever looked forward to attending, just because he’s there, even if Pepe’s a big turd and insists on sitting between us. And when I see him in school, I swear to god, it takes every last ounce of self-control not to bang him against the nearest flat surface,” Dan continued in one long, breathless gush.
“Oh. Wow.” Finns blinked. “Well, maybe it’s not so bad. Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way?” He prodded.
Surely, you must have felt like that when were together, Finns added to himself. Sure, he didn’t have any features that were associable to a concept in Chemistry. (What was so great with freckles anyway? Didn’t they know it was a melatonin malfunction? Why in the world was that sexy?) And sure, he didn’t have any classes with Dan because they weren’t in the same year. But Dan must have wanted to fuck him every chance he got, right?
“Well, no.” Dan said bluntly. He admitted, “This feels different.”
The Irishman’s jaw dropped. He found himself scowling. “You’re gross. I never had you for a sap, Daniel.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed in the Dane’s eyes, but he bit his lip reluctantly. He didn’t take shit from anyone, but Finns was his best friend.
“You think so?” Dan asked.
“Of course!” Finns said. “I can’t believe you’re letting yourself get caught up in this. Have you fucked him yet?”
Dan frowned. “No.”
“What? Why not?”
“It just hasn’t happened yet.”
Finns stared at the younger boy in disbelief. “What else is there?”
Dan seemed as if he were about to protest, but he just shut his mouth and shrugged listlessly.
“Well, then, that’s it,” Finns shrugged. “Just fuck him and be done with it. Trust me, all this nauseating mushy crap will fade away in no time.”
Dan picked at a stray thread on his comforter. “I guess you’re right.”
Finns let his fingers caress Dan’s cheek. Dan looked up in confusion, but Finns just placed a kiss on his forehead. “Danny, would I lie to you?”
Dan sighed and lit himself a cigarette. He was getting stressed. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Good,” Finns said, sounding relieved. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
“About what?” Dan asked, lazily breathing out the smoke.
“Well,” Finns stammered unsurely. About us?
But the shrill beeping of Dan’s mobile sliced through the conversation.
“Go on,” Dan motioned, as he quickly checked who had texted him.
“I was just thinking,” Finns took a deep breath, “Maybe we should start hanging out again.”
“We do hang out,” Dan mumbled distractedly reading the message from his phone. “We hang out a lot, actually.”
“That’s not what I mean!” It was embarrassing enough already without having to spell it out for Daniel.
“Hm?” Dan looked up briefly from texting.
“Who’s texted you now?” Finns said exasperatedly.
Dan smiled sheepishly, “Can you just give me a minute?”
Finns sighed and nodded. Dan hopped off the bed, stubbing his half-finished cigarette on his desk. Dan would never leave a smoke unless it was important.
“Hey.” Finns heard Dan say with almost a disarming gentleness to the tone. “Are you alright? You sounded furious in your message. ...Oh, Harry again, huh?” Dan laughed. “Do you want me to meet up with you? I could keep you company.”
Finns’ jaw dropped. He tossed a pillow at Dan. It hit him square in the back. Dan spun around and threw him a dirty look.
“No, it’s fine. It’s not a hassle, really,” Dan said.
Finns stalked up to Dan and hissed in his ear, “Grovelling? You’re pathetic, Agger.”
Dan looked up and shoved him away in irritation, flipping him a finger. “Sure, I’ll meet you there in 15. Okay, bye.”
Dan snapped close his mobile and glared at Finns. “What is up your ass, Finnan?”
He stalked to his closet and brought out a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt. Finns tried not to stare as his best friend dressed up.
“I suppose you’re off to meet up with your Spaniard,” Finns said wryly.
“Yeah, I am,” Dan said matter-of-factly. He slipped on his trainers, “I don’t suppose you’ll have a problem with that, right?”
Finns laughed off the question, but Dan stared at him, waiting for a response.
“Why the bloody hell would I care?” Finns retorted.
“You tell me,” Dan said, spritzing himself with some perfume. “You’re the one acting fucked up.”
Finns sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s just talk about it when you’re done acting like such a horny bastard.”
He nodded at Dan curtly then left without another word. Dan stared after him in disbelief. What had just happened here?
*
Dan smiled to himself as he spotted Fernando curled in a couch in the corner of the coffee shop. He walked over to him-it felt like he couldn’t get there fast enough and his legs were as heavy as lead.
Fernando looked up and a smile spread across his features, “Dan, hey.” He scooted over to give the defender some space. Dan sank down on the couch next to him and collected him in his arms. Fernando happily nestled in.
“Bad day?”
“Yes,” Fernando grumbled.
“Are you going to wait here all night for Harry to finish?”
“Yes,” Fernando said again.
“You want me to go back with you to your dorm room and I can rough Harry up for you?” Dan offered.
Fernando laughed. “Nah. Let him be. At least he’s not shagging Xabi anymore.”
“He’s not-WHAT?”
“Yes!” Fernando said, relieved he finally had someone to tell. “Do you know how stressful it is seeing them get together every night in my bedroom?”
Dan shook his head incredulously. “Shit.”
“Exactly,” Fernando replied, tugging Dan’s jacket and pressing himself closer against Dan’s chest. A warm, tingling feeling spread all over Dan and he thought that maybe Finns was right. He had become an insufferable, romantic bastard. But maybe it wasn’t all that bad.
Dan placed a soft kiss on Fernando’s forehead before he could stop himself. “Do you want to crash at my place instead?”
Fernando regarded him unsurely. “I’m fine just waiting here.”
“Come on,” Dan insisted. “I can drop you off at the dorm tomorrow morning just before we head to the pre-match training.”
Fernando shrugged and grinned, “Sure thing.”
They untangled themselves from each other and stood up. And Dan couldn’t remember who reached out first but walking out of the cafe, they had somehow linked hands and neither made the move to pull away.
*
“Do you want anything to eat?” Dan asked, flitting to the pantry and the refrigerator and he wondered why he was such a nervous wreck.
Fernando leaned against the counter and stared at the defender in confusion. “Are you alright, Daniel?”
“What?” Dan smiled, compulsively putting out a number of food items on the table. “Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
Fernando shrugged and twisted open the lid of a random jar. “What is this?”
Dan stopped and approached Fernando, examined the bottle in his hands. “It’s Nutella, genius.”
“What’s that?” The Spaniard asked, sniffing at the gooey, brown substance suspiciously.
“Chocolate spread?”
“...Spread?”
“On bread?”
“Why would anyone want chocolate on their bread?” Fernando asked in confusion.
Dan lifted a butter knife from the table, smeared some Nutella on a slice of bread and held it out for Fernando to taste. Fernando stared at it disgustedly.
“Just taste it,” Dan nagged.
Fernando rolled his eyes and leaned close, taking a tentative bite. He wrinkled his nose after a few chews. “That’s gross.”
Fernando dipped a spoon in the Nutella and took out a dollop. Dan shouldn’t really have stared, but Fernando was staring at his chocolate-coated spoon so intently. And then that pink tongue darted out to lick at the top, and Dan had to grip the edge of the counter tightly to keep himself level-headed.
“It tastes better by itself,” Fernando said thoughtfully, licking his lips. That fucking tease.
“Uh, great, that’s great,” Dan stammered.
“You want some?” Fernando offered innocently.
‘Want some?’ Dan’s inner voice screamed hysterically. Absofuckinglutely he wanted some. He wanted to hold the boy down and smear him in sauce and just lick him all over and... Oh, god.
“Let’s go up to my room,” Dan said tightly.
“Wha-” Fernando protested, but Dan had dragged him up the stairs already. If his mother showed up at the kitchen unannounced and caught him licking Nutella off Fernando’s stomach, he’d be deported back to Denmark before he could even say “We’rejustHistorypartnersIpromise!”
Dan slammed the door behind him and locked it securely. He watched Fernando look around his room, intrigued, all the while still faithfully eating his chocolate spread.
“I’m sorry the bed’s a mess,” Dan said, hastily collecting all the cigarette butts and dumping them in the trash can. “Finns came over earlier.”
Fernando stopped and turned around, a curious expression upon his face. “Finns was here?” He asked strangely, watching Dan smooth out the bed covers and put the pillows back in place.
“Yeah,” Dan said nonchalantly. “He’s been dropping by more often because he’s getting stressed from all the graduate work load.”
Well, that did it. If Fernando wasn’t playing then, he was definitely competing now. For the fucking win.
He casually dipped his index finger in chocolate sauce and held it out for Danny. The defender froze. Fernando raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to turn away. And Dan, he would never back down from such a direct order. He smiled and obediently took the finger between his lips, letting his tongue run over every digit, licking it clean and then some.
“I didn’t know you had a food kink,” Fernando moaned as Dan lightly smeared Nutella over Fernando’s thin lips.
Dan bent down, tongue flicking teasingly over the sauce, before pressing their mouths together in a sticky, chocolate-coated kiss.
Dan broke away and smiled triumphantly at the dazed Spaniard, “Trust me, I didn’t know I had a food kink either.”
Fernando grinned and stepped back, effortlessly shrugging off his jacket. Then his shirt. His belt and jeans and shoes and socks were quick to follow. Dan stood there, blinking, trying to regain some sense of it all. But Fernando climbed on his bed and spread out on the sheets and looked at him in this innocently come-hither sort of way that made Dan feel dirty, but he didn’t care.
“Fuck me,” Fernando said simply.
Dan struggled to strip off as well and climbed on the bed. He nervously straddled Fernando, “We have a game tomorrow.”
“So?” Fernando asked, lying down underneath the defender.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Dan breathed.
Fernando hesitated and for a moment, he felt unsure. “-Don’t you want me?” Is it because of Finns? He added silently.
Dan’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. “God, no, of course I want you.” He let his hands caress down Fernando’s side. The Spaniard arched ever so slightly.
“Then what is it?”
Dan took a deep breath. I don’t want to fuck you because I want to show you you’re more than just a one-night stand?
...Where the fuck was this crap coming from?
Fernando deftly hooked one leg around his waist and pulled him down. His eyes were dark with lust and Dan didn’t miss the way his erection pressed against his hip.
“Oh, fuck it.” Dan groaned and held Fernando down against the mattress.
Feedback. ♥
For drbillbongo, for getting me addicted to McFly's covers. :P