FIC: Five times Stevie shouldn't have said Xabi's name
Title: 5 times Stevie shouldn’t have said Xabi’s name
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Warning: Explicit sex scenes
Disclaimer: I wish they were mine. They aren't, so don't sue me.
Author’s Notes: Thanks to
wisniowyfor the lovely beta! Written for a challenge at
footiechallenge. Feedback is love and very much appreciated.
I
“Ksaabie,” Stevie says to his locker. The locker room is still empty; he has somehow misunderstood Rafa and come way too early into training. But he likes Melwood when everything is silent, not the usual banter, not the usual faces. Frowning, he pulls out his training kit. Somehow Rafa has pronounced the name differently.
“Ksabby,” he addresses his shorts. No, that does sound even more stupid. And now he also feels stupid, because he is the fucking captain and he doesn’t know how to pronounce one of the newcomers’ names. Maybe he shouldn’t care and just call him by his surname only. However, even though Stevie isn’t the most tactful person, it doesn’t feel right to do so.
“Tchaabie,” he tells his left shoe. That might be right. He doesn’t even know why he is practicing it; he had a hell of a time learning Jerzy’s name and the goalie only laughed when he garbled it up. But there is something different about Xabi, something fascinating that Stevie can’t describe; a strange fear of his reaction. What if he is pissed at Stevie for being too dumb to pronounce his name properly?
“Tchabby” might perhaps be the right name for an ape. Not for the Spaniard who manages to move elegantly, even gracefully through the horrors of an English match.
“Shabby.” Stevie pulls on his shirt which muffles his voice slightly for a moment.
“Shaabie.” He jumps up and down, stretching his legs, enjoying the sound of his shoes echoing through the still completely empty room.
“Saa..”
“It’s Shaa-vie, actually,” an amused voice interrupts him, and when Stevie turns around, he finds him lingering in the doorway, grinning lopsidedly. Strangely enough, Stevie’s heart is suddenly beating as if it was after an awfully exhausting training session, not before one.
II
The cameras flash their blinding lights at him, the room is obviously crowded and the reporters are shouting their questions at him. “Mr Gerrard, what are your reasons for staying with Liverpool FC?” someone calls from the right. “Chelsea have been very successful during the last years.”
Stevie nods towards the bald man as a sign that he has heard him. It is one of those questions that are nearly impossible to answer. Yes, Chelsea have just won the Premiership and have offered him millions. But Stevie loves Liverpool FC, loves wearing the red shirt, listening to the fans singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone”. And he just can’t imagine what it would be like, playing against them - maybe someone would break his leg, Carra probably, or Robbie. But then a different image comes to his mind. Brown eyes, tousled hair, a mouth that is simply inviting him to kiss it. The same face after he told him that he would leave: the eyes shaded, the neck bent like after a lost match, a wrecked smile that was everything Stevie needed to realize that he was horribly unlucky. He didn’t need any words to convince Stevie to stay.
“Xabi,” Stevie says, in front of Rafa, the chairman, loads of curious reporters.
However, he has always had a tendency to mumble, to turn towards the one he is talking to, and therefore he hasn’t really spoken into the mic.
“Bless you,” the crowd answers him and his next answer is more suitable for the public to know.
The chairman next to him, however, is looking at him rather curiously.
III
Under him, Alex moans, scratching his back with her nails, while he thrusts into her, deeply, hard, fast. And God, this feels fucking fantastic, does amazing things to his cock. White flashes of light explode in his head, making him shudder. For a moment, the room around him is swirling, moving, making him forget everything temporarily.
“Xabi,” he groans, collapsing over the slim body.
It takes him a while to realize what he has said, and he has never been more grateful that Alex gets very noisy during sex. So noisy that, considering how she is snuggling up against him, she has probably not even heard it.
IV
“Congratulations on making it into the last sixteen.” Xabi sounds truly excited. His accent is a bit stronger after the weeks he has spent with his own national team but Stevie likes it nonetheless. The strange way Xabi pronounces the familiar words makes something inside him flutter.
“Yeah, yeh too,” he answers, chuckling.
They haven’t spoken for a while, due to trainings, matches and the whole World Cup itself and so, while they continue with their usual banter for a while, Stevie suddenly notices with a bang how much he is missing the Spaniard. How much he is missing playing alongside him, seeing him every day, sleeping next to him.
“It’s a shame you aren’t here,” he tells him in a low, caressing voice.
“I miss you, too.”
There is no need to elaborate on that, and so they share a comfortable silence which probably says more than they could have done with a thousand words.
Until someone at the other end suddenly destroys the whole ambiance by shouting something on rapid Spanish.
“Stevie - I’ve to go, team conference.” Xabi sounds sincerely sorry, probably even sad, and somehow Stevie feels as if a huge dark cloud has just overshadowed the post-victory celebratory feeling.
“I love you.” The words seem to come instinctively; he has never said it before, not to Xabi at least, but it feels just right and it sums up everything he wants to tell him nicely.
“Stevie…” The lingering answer is everything he needs.
“Come on, Xabi, we’ll probably see each other soon enough,” Stevie tries to cheer both of them up. “Make sure you kick some asses on the pitch, so we can meet in the final!”
When he hangs up, he finds Wayne, who sits next to him, choking on his drink and staring at him like he had just announced that yes, he would play for Everton the next season.
V
It is the evening before the away match against Reading, they are in their usual hotel and, as usual, Xabi and Stevie share a room. It is the second anniversary of their strange relationship and they are making love to each other in order to celebrate it, arousing each other gently, intimately and incredibly intensely. It is better than anything they have shared before, on dozens of away trips and training camps, better than anything Stevie has experienced with Alex. He feels like floating away on the waves of pleasure that flood through him; like exploding when he finally comes, collapsingover the Spaniard.
“Xabi!” he cries out loudly, clinging to the other midfielder.
***
They are playing cards, like they always do before an away match. A few rounds of poker are the right thing to take your mind off the game, the pressure.
“One pair.” Riise smacks his cards onto the table.
“Full house.” Sami grins wickedly.
“Ro…” Agger stops mid-word, gazing at the wall, frowning in irritation. “What’s that?”
It’s silent in the small room. No, not completely silent - there is the small sound of a bed cracking rhythmically, one, two, crack, one, two, crack. Moans that clearly indicate something.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to bring any girls in?” Sami finally speaks out loudly what everyone is thinking.
“We weren’t.” Carra, the vice-captain, looks like he has just bitten on a lemon.
“I just wonder how they were getting past Rafa’s guards,” Riise wonders. “I listened to him giving instructions to that dragon at the reception.”
“Probably it’s no one from the team at all?” Agger suggests hopefully. “This is a hotel, after all.”
The moans have gotten louder and they are pretty sure that they hear two bodies slamming against each other.
“Well, it sounds as if it’s right next to us,” Riise grins.
“But it’s only us on this floor.” Carra is looking grim. “I’m going over to stop them.”
“You can’t -”
“It’d be horribly embarrassing…”
“Just wait -”
“Better me than Rafa,” Carra cuts their protests short. “Don’t worry, I’m going to knock first.” Clearly annoyed, he gets up.
The actions from next door are getting even louder, moans and grunts flowing through the room; the boys look at each other awkwardly, silently wondering which team mate may be so ignorant towards Rafa’s rules.
Carra turns towards the door.
And suddenly, there is a cry, clearly audible through the walls: “Xabi!”
Agger’s cards fall onto the floor. Carra stops mid-step. Riise splutters his drink. Just Sami manages to look only mildly surprised. They all know that voice, having heard it shouting on the pitch hundreds of times.
If they were starting in a competition for synchronized blushing, the Liverpool defenders would have easily made the first place.
***
A/N 2: This actually reached the first place which I hadn't expected at all. Therefore, a big thank-you goes out to the jury, MellyBell, Mila and Rotschopf! If you understand some German, go over to the comm and read the other fics as well, the Metzelly one is my favourite. And don't worry about the different name if you read this on the comm - I simply use different nicks in English and German fandom and as the board is German I'm "moviemusician" on there.