Fic: Friends and Lovers
Title: Friends and Lovers
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres; Daniel Agger/Martin Škrtel
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Any fictitious relationships described within is true in the land of imagination only.
Summary: Based after a run of poor results back in November 09…
A/Ns: I wrote this a few months back and now I can’t remember which match it was after that I based it on. So just keep in mind that it’s time setting is not current… sorry about that!
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated! Good/bad, either is fine. Thanks!
Word Count: 2801
Friends and Lovers
The two figures moved lithely out on the pitch far away. Their actions mirrored each other, and even as one tried to feint deftly to the right, the other read him well and blocked him off, with ease. When finally, the blonde striker managed to curl a shot away from his marker, the two men fell to the ground, their chests heaving in laughter, not exhaustion. It was a picturesque image of an easy friendship and familiarity.
Martin watched enviously as Fernando placed an arm over Daniel’s shoulders and saw Danny leaned into the striker in response. That was never the case when it was he who attempted to hug the defender. Martin wrinkled his nose at the discrepancy. It’s almost been two years since he’d been here, and still, he had not been able to be someone important in Daniel’s life. Sure, they’ve fooled around before, after away matches, at his place, at Danny’s. But that was different. They were always rough, always fast, and they always left afterwards. There was no cosiness. He didn’t have what Fernando has with Daniel; he didn’t have a relationship. And surprisingly, he wanted one.
Taking out his frustrations on the ball at his feet, Martin Škrtel gave the football a hefty kick. He watched it sail towards the pair he had been observing and he raised an appropriately apologetic arm when the two players glanced up at him in confusion. With a bit of reluctance, he jogged towards Fernando and Daniel to retrieve his ball.
“Here, Martin, lose control of your ball, eh?” Daniel smiled warmly, handing the ball back to Martin.
Martin scrunched up his face to say, ‘as if’. Collecting the ball, he turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last glance at the happy pair on the soft grass of the pitch. “You’ll better get back to training before Rafa catches you lazing around,” Martin warned.
Fernando tipped his head up at Martin and replied with a grin, “Oh, we’re just having a break. Got to take good care of Danny’s back here.”
Martin did not even raise his eyebrows when Daniel smiled bashfully at the comment Fernando made. Nor did he react at all, when he heard Daniel counter with, “What about your hamstring?”
Walking back to the other side of the pitch, Martin thought the two of them were like a married couple. Their dynamic so perfectly matched and intertwined, they existed as a combined entity. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Jamie Carragher approaching him.
“Hey!” That sharp voice, coupled with the hand on his shoulder took Martin back to the training ground
“I said, what’s happening with Romeo and Juliet? Hello? Anyone there, upstairs?” Carra asked impatiently.
“Huh?” Martin looked blankly at his vice Captain.
“Over there,” Carra gestured roughly to where Daniel and Fernando still sat.
“Ohhhh... Fernando and Daniel.”
“Yeah, who else?” Jamie snorted, “Those two, gawd, pair of lovebirds, they are sometimes. Think we don’t notice coz they don’t do it in the showers like Stevie and Xabi used to, but really, they’re worse with their mushy-romantic picnics on our pitch.”
Raising his voice so it carried over to his intended recipients, Carra shouted, “It aint no riverside park, yer know, no fooking blossoming trees, no flowers, no tea parties! Now git on with yer training!”
Watching his two team-mates spring to their feet guiltily, Martin had to hide his smile subtly behind his hand. Then Carra’s words sunk in. Lovebirds, he had said. Perhaps he ought to just give up on Daniel now, he’ll never be able to take Fernando’s place.
“Now, Martin, where were we?” Carra was back at his side, “Ah yes, now, we’ve been leaking too many goals lately, and we have to change that. Because we’re capable of doing the best there is. The best. You hear?”
Martin nodded mutely, and Jamie continued to rant about defensive tactics and what not, but Martin no longer listened. For the second time in a space of a few minutes, Jamie Carragher’s words had an impact. He was capable of doing the best. He was. Maybe he can persuade Daniel of it, too.
******
They didn’t lose. They didn’t lose.
That was what went through the minds of half the players who came off Anfield at full time. The other half were thinking, we didn’t win, we didn’t fucking win.
True, they were devoid of players from injury and from suspension, but luckily, their backline received a boost from the return of Martin Škrtel and Glen Johnson. With Jamie Carragher serving a ban, Rafa was glad to be able to have the two twenty four year old central defenders fit. Although fit is a relative term, what with Martin only recovering and Daniel still dogged by his ever-present back injury.
Leaking two goals, they had clawed a point back with the help of a spot kick that had the Liverpool fans divided over its authenticity. Whether it was a penalty or not, Liverpool got their point and fell further down the table. The gap between them and their rivals continued to widen alarmingly. For all the people who claimed one does not win the league in November, it needed to be said that one can lose it in November.
They can blame it on unfortunate events, on injuries, on Xabi Alonso’s departure, on anything. It doesn’t change the fact that Liverpool were facing a very steep mountain in their quest to reach the league title. A mountain that they may not conquer.
Conceding goals always leave a dirty feeling to those who were supposed to be keeping the clean sheets, and Liverpool’s defenders were no different. Stripping his shirt off angrily, Daniel Agger grimaced at yet another unfavourable result. It was just not good enough. This was not the usual tight defence Liverpool had and he hated that he was partially to blame. He tossed the shirt carelessly towards the bench then placed a worried hand at the base of his spine. The ache was back.
“Hey, Agger,” Martin appeared beside him, pulling his own red shirt over his head as he too, undressed after the disappointing match.
“Hey, Martin,” Daniel replied courteously, but the pain and tiredness came through. He often dreaded these conversations he had with Martin because they gave him such false hope. Each time, he wondered if things could turned a bit more personal, it would only be as a pretext to sex. Yet, each time, he wished for something more. So far, each time, he’d been let down.
Looking at Daniel wince at the discomfort of his back, Martin asked, “You okay?”
“Just the back acting up again, yeah.” Daniel picked through his toiletries and slung his towel over his shoulder. He glanced at the shower cubicles. He hopped from foot to foot impatiently, aware that this is about as personal as Martin normally gets in his conversations, but wanting and hoping for more…if perhaps he hung around a bit longer.
“Yeah…” Martin trailed off without meeting Daniel’s gaze. Then running his hand over his scalp, he groaned, “God, we need to improve out there.”
Disappointed that the conversation had returned to safe pastures yet again, Daniel scoffed and played along before making his exit, “Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m off to have a shower, catch you later, Škrtel.” He raised a hand then turned to head towards the showers.
“Wait,” Martin caught Daniel’s wrist and pulled him back. The smell of sweat hung over the both of them and Martin couldn’t resist glancing down Daniel’s bare torso. Dan’s numerous tattoos undulated with every muscle they covered and swam together in an artistic swirl of images. Martin returned his gaze to Daniel’s face, then watching Dan’s expression closely, Martin tucked his long, bony fingers delicately into Dan’s shorts. It was amazing the amount of control Daniel had, for the Dane did not even twitch at his touch. Martin refrained from going further and instead, snapped the elastic waistband against Daniel’s taut muscles and grinned, “See you later.”
Daniel wandered into the shower cubicles before he slipped his own fingers down his shorts. Anticipation drummed loudly in his ears as his pulse quickened with suspense. Finding what he was searching for he grasped it between two fingers and retrieved it. The small piece of grubby paper unfolded to reveal a name and a time. Putting it to memory, he scrunched the note up then turned the water on.
******
The music was going strong; the beat heavy, electric. Martin could feel each thump reverberate in every cell of his body. The dank air was almost suffocating and the intense smell of men smothering. The strobe lights were starting to hurt his eyes and everyone was tweaked. But there was a sense of freedom that comes from being amongst such drugged up people. To them, he was just another fine body. Just another one of them. He was nobody special.
The same music greeted Daniel’s ears as he stepped into the small, secretive club. Already, he disliked the atmosphere, and it wasn’t just because of the noise it played. He instinctively shied away from the doped up men who came up to him, finding their wandering hands obtrusive. He was easily inches taller than everyone else there, but he still found it hard to seek out the other person who should also be inches above the crowd.
When finally, he caught sight of the defined skull of Martin Škrtel, Daniel still faced an uphill battle parting the sea of people to get to his team mate.
“Heeey, it’s you.” Martin grinned when he saw Daniel draw near.
“What are you doing here?” Daniel tried to shout above the noise of the music. His brows were creased and his expression showed just what he thought of his current surroundings.
“What?” Martin shouted back.
Raising his voice a notch or two, Daniel cried, “I said, what are you doing here?”
“Being anonymous.” Martin yelled joyously, raising his hands in the air, his body moving in time with the music. It was almost enchanting, seeing that smooth skin glisten in the blue lights.
Daniel turned to look at the two men who fell on him from the side with disgust. He pushed them off him and turned back to address Martin, “Don’t you have better places to be? Everyone here’s so drugged.”
“And that’s the beauty of it,” Martin placed his arms around Daniel’s neck and tried to entice him into dancing.
A little annoyed, Daniel reached up to remove Martin’s arms from his shoulders. “You really shouldn’t be here. What if someone sees you?”
Škrtel made a show of looking around, “You think anyone remembers seeing me?”
“You know what I mean. We have a reputation to uphold” Exasperation crept into Daniel’s voice. And because I was stupid enough to believe you might have wanted something else. Daniel thought bitterly.
Martin stopped dancing and the two defenders stood still in a mass of writhing, dancing men. The still centre of a dynamic world. Placing his hands on his hips, Martin growled, “Fuck the reputation. Who gives a fuck what I do in my spare time anyway? And what about you, what are you doing here?”
Daniel spluttered indignantly, “You gave me that note!”
A lazy smile spread on Martin’s face. “So you came because of a note,” he laughed rudely, “How juvenile.”
“Fuck off,” Dan eyes narrowed. He pushed yet another stranger off his chest before glowering at Martin, “I don’t know why you want to be here, they’re all fuck ups here. Wasting their bodies away on drugs and- Oi, get off!” He pushed yet another stranger off his body. “- That’s not who you are.”
Martin closed the distance between them and his fingers stroked Daniel’s face tenderly. Leaning in, his lips were almost touching Daniel’s as he said, “You think you know me? Don’t make me laugh. You think they’re all fuck ups here, Danny? Well, you’re right. But so are we.”
Martin sneered when Daniel jerked back away from him; then he opened his arms wide and announced to the unhearing crowd, “Well, it’s true. We’re so fucking useless!”
Watching Martin depreciate himself like that made Daniel pity the other man. Clearly the drink was having an effect on the Slovakian for Dan never would imagine Martin would admit to something like that quite so openly. But then again, there was bitterness and anger in Martin’s voice and the defender looked defeated. The latest string of results must be getting to him and perhaps it was just easier to be harshly critical than to submit to the unyielding pain of admitting failure.
A wave of sympathy came over him and Daniel stepped towards Martin. He reached out to Martin but the other man waved him away.
“Don’t,” Martin whispered, his voice lost in the humdrum of the beat of the club. Yet Daniel knew what he had said. “Don’t touch me.”
Ignoring him, Daniel pulled Martin into his arms, and held his friend tightly. Martin’s muscles relaxed and Daniel felt Martin’s arms encircle his waist. There was a desperate need in the way Martin’s hands clung to him and Daniel knew that underneath all that badass bravado, Martin was just another person who sometimes needed a supportive shoulder as well.
Patting Martin comfortingly on the back, Daniel murmured softly, “We’re just in a rough patch now, we’ll improve. You know we can.” When they finally parted, Daniel suggested, “Come on, let’s go. There’s no need to drown our sorrows here.”
“No,” Again, Martin stopped Daniel’s departure with a hand on the wrist. His fingers ran lightly over Daniel’s arm before moving to grasp the hem of Dan’s shirt. Pulling the Dane back towards him, Martin smiled suggestively, his fingers working their way back into Daniel’s trousers, where they had been earlier in the day in the change-rooms at Anfield.
This time, Daniel objected. Stopping Martin’s fingers from delving further, Dan told Martin firmly to desist. It was almost pathetic; the way Martin hid his emotions behind sex and rage, as if the impersonality of those traits can keep the rest of the world at bay. Daniel longed to just show Martin what it could be between them. If only Martin would drop those defences.
Seeming only aware of the slight, Martin mocked resentfully. “Yeah, go back to Fernando, Daniel, and play happy families. You’re too tame for this scene anyway.”
Frustrated that he wasn’t getting through to Martin, Daniel sighed and turned back one last time. He told himself he was definitely leaving after this, but he had to let Martin know one thing. Staring straight into Martin’s blue eyes, Daniel said, “I was never with Fernando.”
Turning on his heels neatly, Daniel walked away.
No sooner had Danny gone out the door, did hands find him and manoeuvre him around until hot, plush lips were kissing him hungrily. His eyes couldn’t focus on who it was, but he didn’t need his eyes to know. It felt different from all those other times when Martin’s lips had graced his skin, but also the same. Perhaps it was the gentle way in which his body was cradled against Martin’s as opposed to the usual haphazard, primal entanglement of limbs and mouths.
Stopping abruptly, Martin asked breathlessly, “Really?”
“Really what?”
“You were never with Fernando?”
Daniel chuckled at the hope, the peek of an emotion that came through in that question. In that one moment, Daniel could see what Martin might have been like as a young, eager boy, eyes a-twinkling, and full of youthful optimism. “Yes, I mean, we might have done it once or twice, but we’re not together like Stevie and Xabi were together, you know? We’re just really good mates; and we share a lot of similarities, a lot of common interests.”
Martin’s eyes flashed angrily, “You’re making me jealous.”
“Why? Do you want Fernando?” Daniel teased, knowing full well just who it was that Martin wanted.
“Of course I do, he’s just sooo sexy,” Martin played along. He looked around at the eerie darkness of the night streets and shivered. Hooking an arm around Daniel’s neck, he delighted in the fact that Daniel moved in closer to him; their bodies pressing up to each other, side by side, in the cool night air. Grinning, Martin asked, “So do you want to come over for a drink?”
“Surely you’re inviting the wrong person. I have Nando’s number if you need it.”
“Okay, stop with the Fernando business,” Martin growled impatiently, “Are you coming or not?”
And Martin loved the feeling that came over him when he saw Daniel’s sea of freckles dance happily as Danny nodded in reply.
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres; Daniel Agger/Martin Škrtel
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Any fictitious relationships described within is true in the land of imagination only.
Summary: Based after a run of poor results back in November 09…
A/Ns: I wrote this a few months back and now I can’t remember which match it was after that I based it on. So just keep in mind that it’s time setting is not current… sorry about that!
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated! Good/bad, either is fine. Thanks!
Word Count: 2801
Friends and Lovers
The two figures moved lithely out on the pitch far away. Their actions mirrored each other, and even as one tried to feint deftly to the right, the other read him well and blocked him off, with ease. When finally, the blonde striker managed to curl a shot away from his marker, the two men fell to the ground, their chests heaving in laughter, not exhaustion. It was a picturesque image of an easy friendship and familiarity.
Martin watched enviously as Fernando placed an arm over Daniel’s shoulders and saw Danny leaned into the striker in response. That was never the case when it was he who attempted to hug the defender. Martin wrinkled his nose at the discrepancy. It’s almost been two years since he’d been here, and still, he had not been able to be someone important in Daniel’s life. Sure, they’ve fooled around before, after away matches, at his place, at Danny’s. But that was different. They were always rough, always fast, and they always left afterwards. There was no cosiness. He didn’t have what Fernando has with Daniel; he didn’t have a relationship. And surprisingly, he wanted one.
Taking out his frustrations on the ball at his feet, Martin Škrtel gave the football a hefty kick. He watched it sail towards the pair he had been observing and he raised an appropriately apologetic arm when the two players glanced up at him in confusion. With a bit of reluctance, he jogged towards Fernando and Daniel to retrieve his ball.
“Here, Martin, lose control of your ball, eh?” Daniel smiled warmly, handing the ball back to Martin.
Martin scrunched up his face to say, ‘as if’. Collecting the ball, he turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last glance at the happy pair on the soft grass of the pitch. “You’ll better get back to training before Rafa catches you lazing around,” Martin warned.
Fernando tipped his head up at Martin and replied with a grin, “Oh, we’re just having a break. Got to take good care of Danny’s back here.”
Martin did not even raise his eyebrows when Daniel smiled bashfully at the comment Fernando made. Nor did he react at all, when he heard Daniel counter with, “What about your hamstring?”
Walking back to the other side of the pitch, Martin thought the two of them were like a married couple. Their dynamic so perfectly matched and intertwined, they existed as a combined entity. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Jamie Carragher approaching him.
“Hey!” That sharp voice, coupled with the hand on his shoulder took Martin back to the training ground
“I said, what’s happening with Romeo and Juliet? Hello? Anyone there, upstairs?” Carra asked impatiently.
“Huh?” Martin looked blankly at his vice Captain.
“Over there,” Carra gestured roughly to where Daniel and Fernando still sat.
“Ohhhh... Fernando and Daniel.”
“Yeah, who else?” Jamie snorted, “Those two, gawd, pair of lovebirds, they are sometimes. Think we don’t notice coz they don’t do it in the showers like Stevie and Xabi used to, but really, they’re worse with their mushy-romantic picnics on our pitch.”
Raising his voice so it carried over to his intended recipients, Carra shouted, “It aint no riverside park, yer know, no fooking blossoming trees, no flowers, no tea parties! Now git on with yer training!”
Watching his two team-mates spring to their feet guiltily, Martin had to hide his smile subtly behind his hand. Then Carra’s words sunk in. Lovebirds, he had said. Perhaps he ought to just give up on Daniel now, he’ll never be able to take Fernando’s place.
“Now, Martin, where were we?” Carra was back at his side, “Ah yes, now, we’ve been leaking too many goals lately, and we have to change that. Because we’re capable of doing the best there is. The best. You hear?”
Martin nodded mutely, and Jamie continued to rant about defensive tactics and what not, but Martin no longer listened. For the second time in a space of a few minutes, Jamie Carragher’s words had an impact. He was capable of doing the best. He was. Maybe he can persuade Daniel of it, too.
******
They didn’t lose. They didn’t lose.
That was what went through the minds of half the players who came off Anfield at full time. The other half were thinking, we didn’t win, we didn’t fucking win.
True, they were devoid of players from injury and from suspension, but luckily, their backline received a boost from the return of Martin Škrtel and Glen Johnson. With Jamie Carragher serving a ban, Rafa was glad to be able to have the two twenty four year old central defenders fit. Although fit is a relative term, what with Martin only recovering and Daniel still dogged by his ever-present back injury.
Leaking two goals, they had clawed a point back with the help of a spot kick that had the Liverpool fans divided over its authenticity. Whether it was a penalty or not, Liverpool got their point and fell further down the table. The gap between them and their rivals continued to widen alarmingly. For all the people who claimed one does not win the league in November, it needed to be said that one can lose it in November.
They can blame it on unfortunate events, on injuries, on Xabi Alonso’s departure, on anything. It doesn’t change the fact that Liverpool were facing a very steep mountain in their quest to reach the league title. A mountain that they may not conquer.
Conceding goals always leave a dirty feeling to those who were supposed to be keeping the clean sheets, and Liverpool’s defenders were no different. Stripping his shirt off angrily, Daniel Agger grimaced at yet another unfavourable result. It was just not good enough. This was not the usual tight defence Liverpool had and he hated that he was partially to blame. He tossed the shirt carelessly towards the bench then placed a worried hand at the base of his spine. The ache was back.
“Hey, Agger,” Martin appeared beside him, pulling his own red shirt over his head as he too, undressed after the disappointing match.
“Hey, Martin,” Daniel replied courteously, but the pain and tiredness came through. He often dreaded these conversations he had with Martin because they gave him such false hope. Each time, he wondered if things could turned a bit more personal, it would only be as a pretext to sex. Yet, each time, he wished for something more. So far, each time, he’d been let down.
Looking at Daniel wince at the discomfort of his back, Martin asked, “You okay?”
“Just the back acting up again, yeah.” Daniel picked through his toiletries and slung his towel over his shoulder. He glanced at the shower cubicles. He hopped from foot to foot impatiently, aware that this is about as personal as Martin normally gets in his conversations, but wanting and hoping for more…if perhaps he hung around a bit longer.
“Yeah…” Martin trailed off without meeting Daniel’s gaze. Then running his hand over his scalp, he groaned, “God, we need to improve out there.”
Disappointed that the conversation had returned to safe pastures yet again, Daniel scoffed and played along before making his exit, “Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m off to have a shower, catch you later, Škrtel.” He raised a hand then turned to head towards the showers.
“Wait,” Martin caught Daniel’s wrist and pulled him back. The smell of sweat hung over the both of them and Martin couldn’t resist glancing down Daniel’s bare torso. Dan’s numerous tattoos undulated with every muscle they covered and swam together in an artistic swirl of images. Martin returned his gaze to Daniel’s face, then watching Dan’s expression closely, Martin tucked his long, bony fingers delicately into Dan’s shorts. It was amazing the amount of control Daniel had, for the Dane did not even twitch at his touch. Martin refrained from going further and instead, snapped the elastic waistband against Daniel’s taut muscles and grinned, “See you later.”
Daniel wandered into the shower cubicles before he slipped his own fingers down his shorts. Anticipation drummed loudly in his ears as his pulse quickened with suspense. Finding what he was searching for he grasped it between two fingers and retrieved it. The small piece of grubby paper unfolded to reveal a name and a time. Putting it to memory, he scrunched the note up then turned the water on.
******
The music was going strong; the beat heavy, electric. Martin could feel each thump reverberate in every cell of his body. The dank air was almost suffocating and the intense smell of men smothering. The strobe lights were starting to hurt his eyes and everyone was tweaked. But there was a sense of freedom that comes from being amongst such drugged up people. To them, he was just another fine body. Just another one of them. He was nobody special.
The same music greeted Daniel’s ears as he stepped into the small, secretive club. Already, he disliked the atmosphere, and it wasn’t just because of the noise it played. He instinctively shied away from the doped up men who came up to him, finding their wandering hands obtrusive. He was easily inches taller than everyone else there, but he still found it hard to seek out the other person who should also be inches above the crowd.
When finally, he caught sight of the defined skull of Martin Škrtel, Daniel still faced an uphill battle parting the sea of people to get to his team mate.
“Heeey, it’s you.” Martin grinned when he saw Daniel draw near.
“What are you doing here?” Daniel tried to shout above the noise of the music. His brows were creased and his expression showed just what he thought of his current surroundings.
“What?” Martin shouted back.
Raising his voice a notch or two, Daniel cried, “I said, what are you doing here?”
“Being anonymous.” Martin yelled joyously, raising his hands in the air, his body moving in time with the music. It was almost enchanting, seeing that smooth skin glisten in the blue lights.
Daniel turned to look at the two men who fell on him from the side with disgust. He pushed them off him and turned back to address Martin, “Don’t you have better places to be? Everyone here’s so drugged.”
“And that’s the beauty of it,” Martin placed his arms around Daniel’s neck and tried to entice him into dancing.
A little annoyed, Daniel reached up to remove Martin’s arms from his shoulders. “You really shouldn’t be here. What if someone sees you?”
Škrtel made a show of looking around, “You think anyone remembers seeing me?”
“You know what I mean. We have a reputation to uphold” Exasperation crept into Daniel’s voice. And because I was stupid enough to believe you might have wanted something else. Daniel thought bitterly.
Martin stopped dancing and the two defenders stood still in a mass of writhing, dancing men. The still centre of a dynamic world. Placing his hands on his hips, Martin growled, “Fuck the reputation. Who gives a fuck what I do in my spare time anyway? And what about you, what are you doing here?”
Daniel spluttered indignantly, “You gave me that note!”
A lazy smile spread on Martin’s face. “So you came because of a note,” he laughed rudely, “How juvenile.”
“Fuck off,” Dan eyes narrowed. He pushed yet another stranger off his chest before glowering at Martin, “I don’t know why you want to be here, they’re all fuck ups here. Wasting their bodies away on drugs and- Oi, get off!” He pushed yet another stranger off his body. “- That’s not who you are.”
Martin closed the distance between them and his fingers stroked Daniel’s face tenderly. Leaning in, his lips were almost touching Daniel’s as he said, “You think you know me? Don’t make me laugh. You think they’re all fuck ups here, Danny? Well, you’re right. But so are we.”
Martin sneered when Daniel jerked back away from him; then he opened his arms wide and announced to the unhearing crowd, “Well, it’s true. We’re so fucking useless!”
Watching Martin depreciate himself like that made Daniel pity the other man. Clearly the drink was having an effect on the Slovakian for Dan never would imagine Martin would admit to something like that quite so openly. But then again, there was bitterness and anger in Martin’s voice and the defender looked defeated. The latest string of results must be getting to him and perhaps it was just easier to be harshly critical than to submit to the unyielding pain of admitting failure.
A wave of sympathy came over him and Daniel stepped towards Martin. He reached out to Martin but the other man waved him away.
“Don’t,” Martin whispered, his voice lost in the humdrum of the beat of the club. Yet Daniel knew what he had said. “Don’t touch me.”
Ignoring him, Daniel pulled Martin into his arms, and held his friend tightly. Martin’s muscles relaxed and Daniel felt Martin’s arms encircle his waist. There was a desperate need in the way Martin’s hands clung to him and Daniel knew that underneath all that badass bravado, Martin was just another person who sometimes needed a supportive shoulder as well.
Patting Martin comfortingly on the back, Daniel murmured softly, “We’re just in a rough patch now, we’ll improve. You know we can.” When they finally parted, Daniel suggested, “Come on, let’s go. There’s no need to drown our sorrows here.”
“No,” Again, Martin stopped Daniel’s departure with a hand on the wrist. His fingers ran lightly over Daniel’s arm before moving to grasp the hem of Dan’s shirt. Pulling the Dane back towards him, Martin smiled suggestively, his fingers working their way back into Daniel’s trousers, where they had been earlier in the day in the change-rooms at Anfield.
This time, Daniel objected. Stopping Martin’s fingers from delving further, Dan told Martin firmly to desist. It was almost pathetic; the way Martin hid his emotions behind sex and rage, as if the impersonality of those traits can keep the rest of the world at bay. Daniel longed to just show Martin what it could be between them. If only Martin would drop those defences.
Seeming only aware of the slight, Martin mocked resentfully. “Yeah, go back to Fernando, Daniel, and play happy families. You’re too tame for this scene anyway.”
Frustrated that he wasn’t getting through to Martin, Daniel sighed and turned back one last time. He told himself he was definitely leaving after this, but he had to let Martin know one thing. Staring straight into Martin’s blue eyes, Daniel said, “I was never with Fernando.”
Turning on his heels neatly, Daniel walked away.
No sooner had Danny gone out the door, did hands find him and manoeuvre him around until hot, plush lips were kissing him hungrily. His eyes couldn’t focus on who it was, but he didn’t need his eyes to know. It felt different from all those other times when Martin’s lips had graced his skin, but also the same. Perhaps it was the gentle way in which his body was cradled against Martin’s as opposed to the usual haphazard, primal entanglement of limbs and mouths.
Stopping abruptly, Martin asked breathlessly, “Really?”
“Really what?”
“You were never with Fernando?”
Daniel chuckled at the hope, the peek of an emotion that came through in that question. In that one moment, Daniel could see what Martin might have been like as a young, eager boy, eyes a-twinkling, and full of youthful optimism. “Yes, I mean, we might have done it once or twice, but we’re not together like Stevie and Xabi were together, you know? We’re just really good mates; and we share a lot of similarities, a lot of common interests.”
Martin’s eyes flashed angrily, “You’re making me jealous.”
“Why? Do you want Fernando?” Daniel teased, knowing full well just who it was that Martin wanted.
“Of course I do, he’s just sooo sexy,” Martin played along. He looked around at the eerie darkness of the night streets and shivered. Hooking an arm around Daniel’s neck, he delighted in the fact that Daniel moved in closer to him; their bodies pressing up to each other, side by side, in the cool night air. Grinning, Martin asked, “So do you want to come over for a drink?”
“Surely you’re inviting the wrong person. I have Nando’s number if you need it.”
“Okay, stop with the Fernando business,” Martin growled impatiently, “Are you coming or not?”
And Martin loved the feeling that came over him when he saw Daniel’s sea of freckles dance happily as Danny nodded in reply.