fic: With Friends Like These (Ander Herrera/?, Iraizoz/Muniain, Llorente/Martínez, NC-17)
Title: With Friends Like These… (1/2)
Author: txorakeriak
Fandom: Football RPS, Athletic Club Bilbao
Pairing: Ander Herrera/?, Gorka Iraizoz/Iker Muniain, Fernando Llorente/Javi Martínez
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I'm a lying bastard and made this all up. I don't claim to know any of the players I write about, they're most definitely not mine, and this very probably didn't happen. No payment involved, no offence intended. This is for my own entertainment.
Summary: Ander has a crush on someone. Gorka and Fernando are not amused. Javi and Iker start scheming and end up causing a gigantic mess. Fortunately, there is someone who keeps a relatively cool head…
Word Count: 13,705
A/N: Set about three months into the 2011/2012 season, which makes this future-fic.
Dedication: For my princess july_v because she needs to embrace the awesomeness that is Ander Herrera and understand that Ander is not a homewrecker, he's just looking for help! XD
Also intended as a little thank you to Kellie for the great e-mails and photos and the kind compliments about my fics.
And, last but not least, to celebrate the wonderful news that Ander has started training with the rest of the squad again after tearing his meniscus at the beginning of September! He was sorely missed! Aupa Ander!! :D
Allergy Warning: May contain traces of HMS Gay and flangst. Read at own risk.
Thanks to pinktoothbrush8 for the beta, and to liberta and whiny_writers for inspiring me to write fic again! I'm indebted to you! :D
Feedback: Everything is most welcome, from squee to constructive criticism. I even accept rotten tomatoes, so don't be shy. ;)
*****
Gorka knew his words would once come to haunt him, but he wouldn't have expected for it to happen so late. Ander had been training with the team for more than three months when he approached him in the locker room after training one day, a sheepish look on his face. Everyone else had already left, and yet he was speaking quietly, as if he was afraid anyone would hear him.
"You told me to come to you when I need any help," he said, shyly shuffling his feet.
Gorka let his duffel bag plop onto the bench and sat down, looking expectantly at his new teammate. "Sure," he said. "What's the matter?"
"Well…" Ander hesitated, obviously uncomfortable. "It's… it's sort of… difficult. Uhm. I was wondering if you know…" He paused for a while, then cleared his throat and looked up apologetically. "It's a bit embarrassing. Uhm…"
Gorka chuckled, successfully preventing himself from rolling his eyes. Kids and their problems. It was a good thing he didn't have anything scheduled for the next two hours, which was probably when Ander would finally get out whatever was bugging him. "Hey, don't worry about it. Whatever it is, you can ask me."
"Well, uhm…" Ander said after a while. "You see, I have this friend."
Gorka tried his best not to laugh. This was how all important confessions started. "I see. And your friend wants my autograph? It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone wants my autograph. It's just natural. I'm that awesome. I don't hold it against anyone."
Ander punched him in the ribs. "No, you ass," he said, and it was obvious that he wanted to pout but couldn't stop himself from grinning at Gorka's joke. "Come on, don't poke fun at me. This is a serious matter!"
Gorka threw up his arms in mock defense. "Right, right, I get it," he conceded with a smile. "Out with it, then. What is it?"
"Well, it's about a teammate," Ander finally mumbled, staring at his toes. "He's at the U-21 as well. Uhm… well, this friend I have is… well, sort of interested in him and…"
Gorka frowned. A teammate? At the U-21? Whatever Ander is driving at with this friend of his, Gorka had quite a good idea who this was all about, and he didn't like it one bit.
He'd seen Ander frolic around with Iker countless times since they had all started trained together, had seen the way he looked at him sometimes, had noticed every single time Ander put his hand around Iker's shoulder, or on his thigh, or on his arm. He had already suspected something but always dismissed it.
You're just being jealous, he had told himself. You're just imagining things. And you would be, with someone like Iker, who could have anyone he wants and has chosen you.
The reason he had always managed to dismiss it was that Iker had never given him any cause for jealousy anyway. He was affectionate to everyone, very affectionate, but he didn't single anyone out for special treatment. Well, except for Gorka, but only in private, where no-one could see them.
Now he couldn't dismiss it any longer. Now, suddenly, all the actions he'd witnessed seemed to have a deeper meaning.
He bit his lip, forcing himself to calm down. It would be wrong to lash out at Ander. He wasn't trying to steal Iker away from him because, just like everyone else, he had no clue Iker belonged to Gorka in the first place. Besides even if Ander was interested in Iker, that didn't mean the feeling was mutual. He should solve this like a grown-up.
But that was difficult.
"Let me tell you something," Gorka said quietly, trying his best not to betray his jealousy. "Forget about him."
Ander looked as if he was about to protest, but Gorka silenced him. "No, I mean it. Trust me on this. Iker doesn't make his private life a public affair but I know for a fact that he's taken, and you shouldn't stir things up. They're happy together. Leave them be."
"But-"
"Don't argue with me," Gorka said, growing slightly impatient. "I've given you an honest answer, I'm not gonna tell you any more."
"But I'm not-"
Gorka rolled his eyes. Was Ander playing dumb or was he really not getting it? He got up, picked up his duffel bag and gave Ander a long glare. "I'm telling you one last time," he hissed. "Keep your hands off Iker. He's not up for grabs."
And with this he stormed out of the locker room, ignoring Ander's loud protests.
***
Fernando had just finished lunch in a little restaurant outside the city when his phone beeped.
call me asap, it's urgent, i need to talk to you. ander.
Frowning, Fernando dialled the number and waited as the call was being processed.
"Yeah?"
"Hi Ander, it's me. What's up?"
"Hi. I need to ask you something. It's important. And also private. And a bit difficult to explain. Okay?"
Fernando chuckled. "Important, private, difficult to explain. Sounds intriguing. Tell me."
"You must promise you won't tell anyone about this."
"My lips are sealed." Whatever Ander wanted to talk about, this would be good.
"And you must promise me not to get mad."
The amusement on Fernando's face slowly made way to confusion. "Mad? Why? What did you do?"
"Promise?"
"Well, fine. I won't get mad. Now out with it."
"I would have asked someone at the U-21," Ander said instead of a reply, "but they're the worst gossip girls and would have poked fun at me until the end of days, so…"
"The U-21?" The frown on Fernando's face deepened. Why should he get mad about anything concerning La Rojita?
"Yeah, well, you see, it's like this," Ander said, hesitantly drawing out each syllable. "I have this friend, and he's interested in someone, and he's in the U-21, and here at Athletic, and-"
"What?" Fernando's mind boggled as he processed the information. "You have a friend in the U-21? And at Athletic? And he's interested in someone?"
"Noooo," Ander said impatiently, "the guy that my friend is interested in is in the U-21. And at Athletic. And this is why I need some advice. For my friend!"
Fernando couldn't frown any more deeply if he tried. "Your friend is interested in a teammate of ours? One that also plays for La Rojita?"
"Yes!"
"And… your friend would be a guy?"
"Yes," Ander said, sounding almost defiant. "Does that bother you or what?"
"No, it doesn't," Fernando said, and would have loved to add, "I have a boyfriend myself, so if other guys fancy other guys, they're welcome to do so!" but obviously he couldn't say that to Ander, or anyone, so he bit his lip and swallowed the words.
"Good." There was silence on the line for a while, then Ander spoke again. "So you'll help me?"
"I'll do my best," Fernando said, though he didn't know how exactly he was supposed to help Ander.
Matters like these required quite a bit of tact and a certain way with words, and he was neither a diplomat nor a born orator. It had been difficult enough for him with Javi back then, when he had made up his mind to finally tell Javi about this ridiculous, annoying and very persistent crush he had on him, and had to find a middle ground between not offending Javi and making himself clear to a completely oblivious person (and failed completely because Javi didn't get anything until Fernando kissed him on the mouth, and even then he spent about half a minute gaping at Fernando like a deer in headlights and then asked if he meant it, as if Fernando would snog random people without meaning it). It had all been worth it, the hours he spent trying to find the right words, the nervousness when he told Javi, the horrible sick feeling that spread in his stomach as he waited for Javi to say something. It had been worth it because Javi loved him back, and had done so for a good while, and still did today, and would hopefully do for a very, very long time. But that didn't mean it wasn't difficult, and Fernando couldn't imagine how anyone could have helped him with it.
But maybe Ander had a plan prepared in his head, and all Fernando had to do was play a part in it. He could always try.
"So, who is this friend of yours?" Fernando asked. "Do I know him?" He supposed it would be a lot easier to speak to him directly, but it turned out Ander didn't agree with him on that at all.
"You don't need to know," the younger man hurried to say.
"How am I to help, then?"
"Look, all you have to do is ask the other guy if he would consider being with… my friend. Okay?"
"And he's supposed to answer that question without knowing who your friend is?" Fernando chuckled at that. "I don't think that's going to work. If I were asked a question like this, I'd like to know who I should be considering!"
"Well, just ask him, okay? If he'd be with a guy? In general?"
"Would that help at all? What if he's into guys but you're not his type?"
"Just ask, please?"
Well, fine. Fernando shrugged. He supposed he could always ask. If the reply would be to Ander's liking was another matter. "Who shall I ask, then?"
"Well, isn't that obvious?" Ander let out an impatient sigh. "He's our teammate. He's in the U-21. He's tall. He's got brown hair and brown eyes. Do I need to spell out his name for you?"
Fernando's face darkened. A stab of jealousy went through him. "Whoever this friend of yours is," he said grimly, "tell him to stay away from Javi."
"But I-" Ander started to protest, but Fernando cut him off.
"I mean it," he said firmly. "And you better believe me if you or whichever friend of yours don't want to get into trouble."
And with that, he ended the call, hoping that Ander had gotten the message. He liked Ander, he really did, the guy was a great teammate and fun to be around, but that didn't mean Fernando was okay with him playing matchmaker for Fernando's own boyfriend.
***
"Do you know that Ander has a crush on you?" Gorka asked Iker that night, trying to seem as casual as possible, as if he were just making conversation.
Iker looked up from where he was lying snuggled against Gorka, relaxing after the heavy work-out the keeper had just given him, and breathing in the scent that always surrounded his boyfriend after they'd had sex.
"What?" he said, slightly drowsy. He had merely noticed Gorka talking but he hadn't paid attention to what had actually been said.
Gorka repeated the question, forcing himself to be calm, but when Iker reacted with loud laughter, he couldn't help feeling slightly annoyed.
"What's so funny? He does, you know. He asked me for advice in the locker room earlier."
Iker was still laughing. "Are you sure he meant me? Did he actually say that? Because from what I know, he's usually into tall guys. And, well, I am pretty gigantic in bed and have a gigantic personality and a gigantic dick and all, but he wants gigantism in other departments as well, so… yeah."
Gorka ignored Iker's jokes. "You talked about sexual preferences with him? Just like that?"
Iker shrugged against Gorka's arm. "Well, it came up one day, so we discussed it. Don't worry, I didn't tell him about you, I just said some general things."
Gorka sighed. He would have preferred it if nobody knew that his boyfriend was into guys, but he supposed that it wasn't too much of a problem to tell Ander if Ander was not exactly straight either. They might just as well keep each other's secrets - though this was as far as he wanted them to go.
"So did he mention me then, or did you jump to conclusions and end the conversation without allowing him to name names?" Iker nudged Gorka, and the keeper could have sworn that the younger man was grinning.
Gorka blushed, hating how well his boyfriend knew him. "I should apologise to him, huh?" he mumbled, embarrassed.
"You better," Iker said, stretching lazily before draping an arm across Gorka's stomach. "Ander is a good friend, and probably not too happy about having the hots for someone without getting anything back."
"Yeah," Gorka conceded, feeling like a proper asshole. "I shouldn't have snapped at him. I just…"
"Did you really think he would have a chance with me? When I have you?"
"Well…" Gorka swallowed. "I don't know. You're only eighteen, and you've got your entire life-"
Iker rolled his eyes. "Pleeease! Let's not have this stupid discussion ever again, okay?" He snuggled a bit closer to his boyfriend. "Dude, you're a bit of an idiot sometimes. But that's okay. You're my idiot."
Gorka smiled, pressing a kiss to Iker's forehead and praying the younger man would never come to his senses.
***
Javi was in the middle of watching a DVD with Fernando, enjoying one of the rare evenings they had all for themselves, when suddenly his mobile beeped. He briefly contemplated ignoring it because the film was good and he was snuggled so perfectly against Fernando that he didn't really want to move and reach for his mobile. Besides, the text message he had just received might have been from Ander.
Not that text messages from Ander were necessarily a bad thing, of course. However, Fernando had been a little weird ever since he got home after his lunch with a reporter from a women's magazine, asking him a load of strange questions about whether Ander had called him, or come visit, or e-mailed, or tweeted, or texted, or faxed, or used telepathy, as if he had just developed an Ander-paranoia over lunch. And he hadn't stopped until Javi had sworn a solemn oath that he had not in any way communicated with Ander or vice versa since training this morning, where they had just spoken about football-related things.
For the rest of the afternoon Fernando had been the role-model of a boyfriend, smiling at Javi more often than usual, being a lot more attentive towards him and more affectionate as well, even making him a special dessert after dinner. Javi had secretly checked every calendar in the house, even Fernando's appointment book, to find out if he had forgotten a special anniversary or anything, but there was nothing. In the end he figured that Fernando felt bad about his Ander-paranoia and tried to make it up to him.
And that was why, all things considered, it would be a pretty bad idea to draw Fernando's attention to Ander again now. But finally, curiosity got the better of him, and after five minutes of resistance, he disentangled himself slightly from his boyfriend and reached for his phone.
1 new message.
It turned out the message was from Iker, which was a good thing, but when Javi opened it, he realised he wouldn't have needed to be told the identity of the sender anyway because the style in which the message was written made it pretty obvious.
ander is in luuuuurve!!!!
"What an idiot," Javi chuckled, closing the message before putting his phone back on the table.
He did wonder a little why Ander had decided to inform Iker because he hadn't even been friends with him for that long and usually went to Javi to chat about important things. But obviously Iker was ecstatic about being confided in, and it just wasn't possible to begrudge him anything, so Javi decided to let the matter rest and approach Ander about it at training the next day.
"Who was that?" Fernando asked after a while, and it might have sounded completely casual if he hadn't had his bout of Ander-paranoia earlier.
Javi hesitated for a bit. It would not be difficult to tell the truth, but then Fernando might ask what Iker wanted, and Javi would have to admit that the message was about Ander, and alarm bells would ring in Fernando's head, and Javi wouldn't get any rest tonight.
On the other hand, Javi was aware that he was a very bad liar, and he was pretty sure that Fernando would get the truth out of him anyway, and then Javi wouldn't get any rest ever again in his life.
He finally settled for a nonchalant, "Oh, it was just Iker," hoping Fernando would leave it at that but not really expecting him to. Fernando was professionally incapable of refusing promising opportunities.
"What did he want?"
Right.
Javi mentally said goodbye to the prospect of a relaxing evening and a nice good-night-fuck and grabbed his phone to show Fernando the message.
"I must say it's beyond me how the bastard got the news before me, though," he added. Then, suddenly, a thought entered his head. "Did you know anything about this? Is this why you were so strange about Ander earlier?"
Fernando shrugged, his mouth a thin line.
"Who do you imagine is the lucky lady, huh?" Javi rambled, not quite sure what to make of Fernando's weird reaction. Was he jealous? Not that it made any sense, unless he wasn't satisfied with what he had (and Javi gulped as he realised that this wouldn't even be so far-fetched because, well, what Fernando had was Javi, and Javi wasn't perfect), but in that case Fernando would definitely have said something, so he forced himself to dismiss the idea before becoming tempted to ponder it in depth.
Fernando rolled his eyes at the question. "Lady? Lady boy, more like."
That Javi hadn't expected. "Huh?"
"Ander called me after lunch," Fernando finally explained, sounding rather grim. "He was talking about this friend of his, but it seems it was Ander himself all along."
The frown on Javi's forehead deepened. "What was?"
"Well, he said that his friend had a crush on someone, and that he needed some advice."
Javi laughed, elbowing Fernando in the ribs. "So he told you as well?" He would have pouted if he weren't too busy grinning. "Dude, am I the last person on earth to know about this? Why did he tell everyone but me?"
Fernando crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why do you think? Because he's got his eyes on you, of course!"
Javi stared at Fernando for a while, completely flabbergasted. Then, finally, he burst into loud laughter. "Oh God, so that's why you were acting so weird the entire evening? Because you think Ander has a crush on me?" He shook his head, dissolving into giggles again.
Fernando evidently didn't share Javi's amusement. "You think he doesn't?"
"Of course he doesn't!" Javi gave his boyfriend a playful nudge. "Come on! We're like brothers! We've known each other for ages!"
That didn't convince Fernando in the least. "But he said he - or rather, this ominous friend of his - has a crush on someone who plays for Athletic and the U-21, tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed… who is that supposed to be if not you?"
Javi looked at him in surprise. "He actually said that? All of that?"
Fernando nodded grimly.
"Dude, then it's pretty damned obvious who it is." Javi laughed. "Well, well, well, who would have thought?" He picked up his mobile again and started typing a reply to Iker. "I bet Iker will be annoyed to find out that I know more about this than he does."
"Or I." Fernando pouted. "Who the hell are you talking about?"
"It's Sanjo, of course, you silly," Javi said, finishing the message and sending it. "And unlike your theory, this one actually makes sense. When we were training for the Euro, Ander had kept throwing hints about how he likes people with substance, not lanky beanpoles or bags of bones." Javi chuckled. "He probably hoped for Sanjo to pick up on it, but he didn't. And neither did I."
Fernando bit his lip, looking sheepish. "Are you sure?"
Javi nodded. "If he really said all those things to you, then it has to be him. I just wouldn't have expected him to be into guys as well - I mean, what are the chances? The two of us, and him? And don't think I gave him any ideas because I didn't. As far as my love life is concerned, he firmly believes that I'm just really, really awkward around girls and therefore don't have a girlfriend."
"That's actually true, though," Fernando said with a grin, deftly evading the elbow that Javi directed at his ribs in revenge.
"Shut up. You should be glad that I make a mess of talking to girls, otherwise I would have a billion admirers who would vote me Best-Looking Player of La Liga ahead of you and Aitor1."
Fernando laughed. "Oh yes, that would be such a severe blow for my self-confidence."
Javi nodded. "Exactly. Your life would be ruined."
"Not yet. First all your billions of admirers would try to steal you away from me, and one would succeed because she has prettier hair than me, and then my life would be ruined." The pout on Fernando's face was priceless.
Javi shook his head. "Impossible," he deadpanned, gently running a hand through Fernando's blond curls. "Nobody could ever have prettier hair than you."
They burst into laughter together, giggling until they were out of breath, and when Fernando pulled Javi into a hug and kissed him, the midfielder decided everything was okay again and eagerly leaned into the kiss.
"We should do something," Javi said as they pulled apart.
Fernando grinned, demonstratively gazing up and down his boyfriend's body. "I have a couple of ideas there…"
Javi laughed, moving a bit closer to Fernando. "I was actually talking about Ander-" he began to explain the obvious, but then Fernando sneaked a hand into Javi's boxers and started to stroke him slowly, knowing all too well how to touch him, and the subject of Ander was forgotten.
***
The next day at training Javi was immediately cornered by Iker and pulled away from the rest of the squad in a conspiratorial manner, as if he were about to plot plans for a revolution.
"We need to do something about Ander," he said eagerly.
Javi laughed. "So does that mean you've finally worked out who this is all about?"
Iker pouted. "I might be tiny but I'm not stupid, thank you very much." He nudged his head in the general direction of where Mikel San José was stretching his legs. "Your text last night made it quite obvious."
They were interrupted by Marcelo Bielsa's loud order for everyone to gather around him so he could outline today's training plan for them, and Iker and Javi decided to postpone their plotting.
"How did you actually find out that it's Sanjo?" Iker asked as they sat in Javi's garden for a quick lunch about three hours later. Javi was feeding pieces of chicken to one of his dogs while Iker scratched the neck of the other.
Javi grinned. "You'd never believe it," he said. "Fer told me Ander had approached him for advice!"
"The hell?" Iker looked at him with big eyes, then laughed. "Dude, this is really really weird. Guess who else Ander asked for advice?"
Javi shrugged. "No clue."
"You wouldn't guess it anyway." Iker didn't even bother to grant Javi sufficient time to make guesses. "He asked Gorka."
Javi stared at him. "Gorka? Why?"
"It's weird, huh?" Iker agreed. "Unless Gorka is really Sanjo's best friend and nobody knows."
Javi laughed. "Because being Sanjo's best friend is totally something you'd want to keep a secret. I mean, I would understand if your best friend didn't want the rest of the world to know…"
Iker elbowed him, missing his ribs by mere inches. "You're just saying that because you're jealous that I have better friends than you."
"Yes, of course," Javi said with a grin, elaborately massaging the spot on his hip where Iker's elbow had hit him. "I've had a secret crush on you for years and I'm so heartbroken that you don't even consider me your best friend, despite my manifold attempts to win your heart."
"Yes, and you're also an asshole," Iker concluded, rolling his eyes. "And you need to shut up and concentrate on the matter at hand. What are we going to do about Ander?"
Javi shrugged. "I have no idea. I suppose telling Sanjo is out of the question?"
"Absolutely," Iker insisted. "Remember that officially we don't even know there's anything to tell. So we have to be clever. We have to test the waters but we mustn't let Sanjo realise what we're doing." The young striker grinned. "We must be stealthy like ninjas."
Javi looked at him sceptically. "Knowing you, that will be difficult."
Iker pouted hugely. "Why? I can be stealthy like a ninja! I can be completely subtle. Sanjo will have no clue what's going on and serve us all the information we need on a silver platter."
His friend was less than convinced, but as he didn't have a better plan, he figured he might just as well hand the reins over to Iker in this matter.
It wasn't necessarily the best decision he had made in his life.
***
The next day at training Iker did his best to make a complete fool of himself. He kept throwing long glances at Mikel, undressed demonstratively in front of him, and even had the audacity to waggle his butt at him before putting on his training shorts.
The glare he got from Ander was unmistakeable.
Most of their teammates were rolling their eyes at him and trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible.
"Has he completely lost his mind now?" Carlos Gurpegi asked Javi as he walked past, but didn't even wait for an answer.
Then Gorka slammed his locker shut and stormed outside, and Javi figured enough was enough. He quickly pulled Iker aside to prevent any further damage.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" he hissed, careful to keep his voice down. It was enough that the entire dressing room thought Iker was flirting with Mikel, they didn't need to get the impression that Javi was jealous.
Iker put on his most innocent expression. "I'm doing nothing. Just testing the waters, 'ninja style'!"
"Ninja style?" Javi slammed his head against a nearby locker as discreetly as possible, hoping in vain it would stop the headache that Iker's ridiculous explanation had caused. "You've got the subtlety of a Viking invasion!"
Iker shrugged, unimpressed. "I don't see what your problem is. I'm trying to find out if Sanjo likes guys without attracting any special attention to Ander. I'd say that's a pretty clever plan!"
"And how is your shameless parading supposed to tell us anything about Sanjo's interests?" Javi sighed, exasperated. "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that there are gay guys out there who don't find you sexy at all?"
Iker blinked at him. "There are?"
Only then did Javi realise what he'd just said. "There have to be," he hurried to say, hoping Iker wouldn't start asking questions about how Javi knew anything of the interests of gay guys. The last thing Javi needed was Iker prying in his private life, especially when he was in the middle of making such a botch of Ander's. "Anyway," he added, "I think you should try a different approach. You saw that Sanjo wasn't too impressed with what you did, and some of the others were quite unimpressed - or negatively impressed, rather." He bent down to tie his shoelaces.
"Why?" Iker still didn't see where he was in the wrong.
"Did you see the look on Ander's face? Or Gorka's?" Javi shook his head. "One might think Gorka is indeed Sanjo's best friend, considering his reaction!"
That finally made the self-confident look on Iker's face transform into a frown. "Gorka? Why? What did he do?"
"He slammed the door of his locker shut and ran out, and if this was a comic he'd have a red face and puffs of smoke would be coming out of his ears. Do I need to make you a drawing?"
"Whoops." Iker actually had the decency to look sheepish. "I'll make it up to them," he swore solemnly. "And they'll forgive me. They have to. They love me too much to stay mad at me for long, right?" Without even waiting for a reply he left the room to join the others outside.
Javi put on his training shirt and followed his teammate, hoping that Iker wasn't currently making up an even worse plan to replace the one that had clearly failed.
***
When Gorka returned to the locker room after his training session, the others were still training, practicing setpieces and particular moves. It was Raúl's turn to keep the goal, and Gorka had never handed over his duties as eagerly as today. He had managed to suppress his anger well enough during training, but it had returned with a vengeance when Mikel had given Iker a slap on his butt for some particular silly thing he'd said. Usually he wouldn't even have batted an eyelash at things like that, they were ordinary, everyday occurrences, especially since the atmosphere in the squad was really good and everyone was getting along well.
However, today he couldn't just brush them aside, and so he'd decided not to wait for the others to finish training but to get out of Lezama as soon as possible, before anyone would make the mistake of asking him why he was in such a foul mood.
The cheerful look on Iker's face as Gorka found him on his doorstep later didn't help matters at all.
"What the hell was that earlier?" the keeper hissed after closing the door behind his boyfriend, hoping despite his anger that he would still be able to call Iker that once their conversation was over.
Gorka's harsh words did a good job of clearing the cheerfulness from Iker's expression. "I thought you'd be pleased!" he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I just proved to you beyond the shadow of a doubt that Sanjo is not at all interested in me!"
Gorka had expected several possible answers, but not this one. "Sanjo?" he spluttered. "I never thought Sanjo was interested in you! We were talking about Ander - who, incidentally, looked like bloody murder when you did your silly little peep show." Gorka scowled.
Strangely enough, Iker's face lit up in a grin at that. "He did?"
"Yes, he did! And I don't understand why you're grinning!" Gorka sighed. "If you have to make a fool of me, that's fine, it's my fault anyway for letting you, but you shouldn't pick on others like that."
Iker was too excited to acknowledge the accusation. "Don't you see? Ander was mad! Which proves everything!"
Gorka frowned. Whatever it was supposed to prove in Iker's weird mind, he didn't see it.
"It does!" Iker insisted. "He thought I was making a pass at Sanjo, and he was mad at me for it, so there you have it! He was jealous, which means he fancies Sanjo!"
"Or he was jealous that you made a pass at Sanjo and not at him," Gorka grumbled, unconvinced by Iker's reasoning.
The striker rolled his eyes. "You're a pessimist. Besides, we've already established that no matter how hard it is to believe, I'm actually not Ander's type."
"You have established that," Gorka pointed out, though Iker's faith in his own theory and the way he kept brushing off any possible interest from Ander's side as completely irrelevant, managed to calm Gorka down a little despite himself.
"Yes, and you'll see I'm right," Iker insisted. "By the way, I'm not making a fool of you at all," he added, putting an arm around Gorka's waist. "If you would finally get it into your stubborn head that I'm not interested in anyone else when I can have you, and that I'm not even thinking about it even when you're being insufferable and jealous and making up things in your head that aren't true-"
"I get it, I get it," Gorka conceded, feeling ridiculous. "I'm being an idiot, I'm sorry, it's just… well, you know what I mean." He pulled Iker into a hug. "I'm very possessive about what's mine."
Iker rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have noticed," he said with a grin. "Now can we have dinner, please? I'm starving!"
Gorka's stomach rumbled in affirmation. "Good idea. Let's eat, and then you can tell me all about your ingenious plans concerning Ander. Whatever you're going to do next time, it's probably better if I get a warning in beforehand."
Iker grinned. "I would have told you anyway so you can appreciate my genius. Which is of epic proportions, by the way."
Gorka laughed and dragged his not so very humble boyfriend into the kitchen. "Stop bragging, or I'll stuff your mouth."
"Mmmm," Iker said, winking cheekily at his boyfriend. "You can stuff anything you like into my mouth after dinner, okay?"
Gorka had no objections to that. It had to be the best plan Iker had had in a long while.
***
The next day was a matchday, which suited Iker well as it meant staying overnight in a hotel in Santander with the rest of the players who were called up. He would have managed to carry out his plan in other circumstances as well, of course, but having the entire squad in one place made things considerably easier for him.
Gorka had explicitly advised him to forget everything about the plan he had concocted, and even Javi had expressed doubts, but Iker was convinced that this was his best idea ever, or at least very close to it, and so he didn't care about what other people thought.
Thankfully his boyfriend had agreed not to interfere or, worse, to tell the coach. In return, he had made Iker promise to wait until after the match to annoy his teammates.
Iker was reluctant to guarantee that at first, arguing that a happy ending for Ander and Mikel would have had a positive impact on their performances in the match. However, Gorka had been relentless, and thankfully it turned out that extra motivation wasn't necessary. The entire team played well enough to add three more points to Athletic's league account and, if they were lucky, heave the club back into a European position at the end of the matchday, depending on the result of the following day's match between Atlético Madrid and Sevilla FC.
***
The atmosphere on the bus was brilliant and improved further still by Marcelo Bielsa's declaration to grant his players a curfew extension of two hours.
Mikel dropped his bag in his room, pondering how to spend the extra two hours he had before bedtime. Some of his teammates had agreed to go play cards in Gurpe's room, but the idea had sounded about as tempting to Mikel as staying in his own room and reading a magazine. He'd declined politely when they'd asked him to join.
He assumed that Iker and Ander had gone to Javi's room to play videogames. They usually did that after away matches, unable to put football aside for mere seconds. And yet, just when Mikel left his room, he ran into Javi, appearing to be headed for the stairs.
Javi stopped right in his tracks when he spotted his teammate. "I was just about to go down to the bar for a coke and the match highlights," he explained. "Want to join me?"
Mikel nodded gratefully. Having a drink and watching match highlights seemed like a very good idea. He was a bit tired already, but he figured that watching TV with Javi wouldn't require a lot of mental or physical strength, and besides, he could do with a drink as well.
The hotel bar was almost deserted when they arrived. It was still fairly early in the evening, and there were lots of bars and cubs in immediate vicinity of the hotel. Unlike the Athletic team, the other guests could seek entertainment anywhere they pleased, and it was only logical they'd prefer proper nightlife to what the hotel had to offer.
The bar was reasonably stocked though, offering a wide selection of liquors as well as three different brands of beer and four varieties of each colour of wine. A big flatscreen TV hung in one of the corners, displaying clips of the matchday, and Mikel had to grin when the programme reached the Athletic match. The win had come at just the right moment, a welcome change to the three draws they had to suffer previously, especially the last one, when the ball had simply refused to enter the opponent's goal.
The two players happily discussed the events of the match, cracking jokes about their teammates and enjoying their drinks. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't even see Iker approach them until he was standing right in front of their table and started shouting "Bacalaobacalaobacalaobacalaobacalao!" in the fashion of José Iragorri's famous goal celebration chant on Radio Popular2.
"Fuck, Iker, you epic moron!" Javi cursed, all but spilling his coke onto his white polo shirt in shock, and Mikel was glad he had already put his glass back on the table before Iker had started yelling.
Iker ignored the insult, feigning innocence. "How else was I supposed to get your attention?" He grabbed Mikel's glass from the table and gulped down its entire contents before the defender could protest. "You won't be needing that anymore," the youngster declared. "The coach is looking for you. He asked me to bring you to him as soon as I find you, preferably half an hour ago."
Mikel frowned. Marcelo Bielsa was not called "El Loco" for no reason, as he had realised by now, but he always discussed their matches with the whole team present. Whatever had prompted him to single Mikel out before bedtime had to be important.
He quickly excused himself from Javi, who said he'd stay to watch the rest of the football programme, and went up the stairs with Iker.
"Did he say what he wanted?" he asked, hoping he didn't betray too much of the uncomfortable feeling in that spread in his stomach.
"No, but he said you should wait for him in there," Iker said, pointing at a door at the end of the corridor.
Mikel went to open it and peeked inside the room, but before his mind could process that there was no light on, that the entire floor was covered with boxes of football equipment, and that it was probably not the place where Bielsa usually held conversations with his players, he felt a rough nudge against his back. He tumbled forward, and a second later the door slammed shut behind him.
He groped for the handle in the dark, but it was no use. Before he even found it, a key turned in the lock, ruining his hopes for a quick escape.
Damn you, Iker.
Suddenly, Mikel heard a clanking noise nearby and turned around. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, and he couldn't even find a light switch, but there was someone in the room with him, someone very very frustrated.
"Whoever this is," a male voice said, "please get those stupid handcuffs off me so I can brutally murder Iker."
Baffled, Mikel walked in the general direction of where the voice had come from, grateful that his eyes were slowly growing accustomed to the dark. He thought he'd recognised the voice but he couldn't grasp why the hell Iker would lock up one of his best mates in a storage room, so he had to make sure.
"Ander?" He asked tentatively, carefully avoiding the boxes and bags on the floor as he walked.
The other guy let out an audible sigh. "Of course. I'm so going to kill that imp."
"Have you been in here long?" Mikel asked, finally reaching the struggling shape of his teammate.
"Long enough," Ander replied grumpily. "And how did he get you in here? I assume it was Iker?"
Mikel nodded, then realised Ander could probably not see him. "Yes, it was. He told me el Míster wanted to see me."
"The little shit," Ander cursed. "Anyone would have fallen for that."
"Why, what did he say to you?" Mikel said, reaching for the cuffs that tied Ander's hands to a gas pipe in the wall. Iker had obviously watched too many James Bond films.
"The key is on the table over there," Ander said instead of a reply. "Iker was kind enough to give me that information before he went to get you."
Mikel made his way across the room to get the key from the table. Fortunately he could see the outlines of the furniture and the boxes by now so he could move faster.
"And if you must know," Ander said as Mikel finally unlocked the cuffs, "Iker told me that there was an orgy going on in one of the rooms across the yard and I had to close my eyes and put my hands behind my back while he would open the curtains so I could see." He sighed again. "You can laugh now."
Mikel bit back a grin. "That was pretty gullible of you, don't you think?" he said with a smile, tossing the cuffs on the floor. It wasn't even the fuzzy kind of cuffs, usually red or pink, just an ordinary pair made of metal that probably came with a carnival kit of a policeman.
"I know," Ander admitted, dejected. "I probably deserved getting locked up in here and tied to a gas pipe for believing that crap."
"Why did he lock you up in here in the first place?" Mikel asked. He was still pretty much in the dark about why Iker had played a prank like this on Ander of all people.
The midfielder hesitated.
"Come on!" Mikel encouraged him. "He locked me in here as well! I think I have a right to know."
"Well…" Ander started, rubbing his wrists. "Iker might have gotten the crazy idea into his head that I have a crush on you."
"What?" Mikel stared at Ander, quite certain that his teammate was kidding, but it was too dark to see his face.
"Don't worry!" Ander said quickly. "It's just Iker, you know he's insane!"
Mikel frowned. It didn't make sense to him at all that Iker would make up something like this and subsequently lock up the two of them in storage room, but then again it was Iker, and it was generally difficult to see sense in what the youngster was thinking.
"So it's not true?" he asked, surprised by the sudden hollow feeling in his stomach. He had never even thought about seeing Ander as anything else than a teammate and a friend, but now his mind was suddenly feeding him images of alternatives and he was baffled to find that they didn't repulse him at all. Quite to the contrary, he realised he actually found them interesting.
Unfortunately, Ander didn't seem to find the idea interesting at all. "Of course not!" he insisted, and Mikel cursed Iker in his head.
It was really unfair - all things considered - not even just the fact that he was locked in a dark room but also that Iker had managed to make him look at Ander with different eyes and really enjoy what he was seeing, only to be rejected. He'd have been quite happy without the experience.
And now he couldn't unsee what he'd seen.
He turned to the wall, about to resume his search for a light switch, then decided against it. Chances were Ander would see the disappointment on his face and that was the last thing Mikel wanted. Better to stay in the dark and wait for Iker to let them out again. However long that would take.
The silence was stretching, and Mikel wanted to say something, but everything he thought of had something to do with Ander having or not having a crush on him. He figured he better not start with that topic again unless he wanted Ander to think he fancied him.
He wasn't even sure he fancied Ander yet. His teammate was a great guy and all, with a good sense of humour and, as far as Mikel had seen (without really having been aware of it until now), Ander was also quite attractive with his taut body and his cheeky smile, but… All right, maybe Mikel did fancy him a little, but that didn't mean he'd do anything about it, not even if Ander hadn't told him he wasn't interested.
Mikel had been with guys before, of course, but a teammate was another matter entirely. He'd always believed in not mixing work with his private life. Being friends with teammates was fine and also recommendable, but that had always been as far as it went. And if Iker hadn't put the stupid idea into his head, he would not have considered being with a teammate for a single second.
Iker. The thought of paying him back for the mess he'd caused seemed very appealing.
"Mikel?"
The defender turned his head. Ander had moved to sit on the floor, framed by two paper boxes.
"Yes?"
"We're okay, right?" Ander asked almost hesitantly.
"Sure!" Mikel assured him quickly, feeling guilty for having given his teammate cause for doubts. "I was just thinking about how to get back at Iker for this," he explained, and even though that wasn't exactly the reason for keeping so quiet, at least it wasn't a complete lie.
"He deserves a lot of pain," Ander said grimly. "Do you have any ideas?"
Mikel bit his lip. All ideas that were currently running through his head had to do with being alone with Ander in a dark room, and he had a feeling his teammate wouldn't really like to hear about them.
"Not really," he admitted. "I agree that killing him sounds tempting but I doubt he'd learn anything from that." It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Ander chuckled.
"You're right - and also, it's too quick," the midfielder added. "Long suffering would be fairer."
Mikel laughed. "Come on! Being locked in with me can't be that bad!"
"No, no," Ander said quickly, making it obvious he hadn't gotten the joke at all. "I hope you're not taking this personally. I'm really not complaining about you being here, it's just-"
"Dude!" Mikel said, nudging his friend. "You're locked in, and only a moment ago you were cuffed to a gas pipe! I know my company is the least of your worries. It was a joke. I was just trying to lighten up the atmosphere a bit."
"Sorry," Ander mumbled, sounding sheepish. "Of course."
Not that it helped much, Mikel thought. "I'm not really good at being funny, I know."
"You are," Ander protested, "you're doing fine, really. It's just me being cranky and all. It will pass as soon as I get my hands on Iker."
The reaction made Mikel smile. Even his grandmother, who usually praised him into the skies and thought the world of his grandson, agreed that he couldn't tell jokes very well, so it meant quite a lot to him that Ander had contradicted him. Of course, there was a chance he was just being polite, or feeling bad for letting his crankiness out on Mikel, but it didn't matter. A compliment was a compliment, and Mikel intended to appreciate it as such.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a key being inserted into the lock of the door, followed by the faint click of the handle. Then, finally, the door opened, the light went on, and Mikel threw up his arms to shield his eyes.
"Don't all thank me at once," he heard the familiar voice of Iker, cheerful as always, and also more than just a little smug. "One after the other is fine. And be detailed. I know I'm awesome but it can't hurt to hear it again."
"You're a fucking idiot, that's what you are," Ander growled, getting up from the floor. "And if you don't apologise right this instant, I swear I'll throttle you."
Iker pouted. "Throttle me? You should be grateful I helped you, even though you were being a crappy friend and keeping secrets from me!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You wouldn't have deserved my help at all, but I'm a nice person and decided to be generous, and this is what I get: insults and threats." He looked at Mikel. "Et tu, Brutus? Do you want to be an ungrateful ass as well or will I get at least a little 'thanks' from you before I leave you two to fuck?"
"What?" Mikel croaked hoarsely, staring at Iker and trying his best not to blush. The remark about leaving him and Ander so they could fuck cleared every last trace of rational thought from his head.
The shocked look on Mikel's face obviously came as a surprise to Iker. "What do you mean, 'what?' Has Ander not told you anything while you were in here together?" He frowned. "What the hell have you been doing all this time?"
Mikel chased the distracting images of him and Ander out of his head, which took considerable willpower, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Cleared up the mess you made?" he said defiantly. "Hasn't it occurred to you even once that cuffing someone to a gas pipe is a stupid idea?"
Iker shrugged. "It did the trick. Ander would have bolted out of the room as soon as I shoved you in there." He looked a bit disappointed, to say the least. "So you didn't find the handcuffs on Ander sexy at all?"
Mikel rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot!" Only Iker could think that cuffs from a kids' costume would look sexy on anyone.
"Still, that doesn't explain why Ander didn't tell you anything." The striker cast a reproachful look at his friend, who was glaring back darkly. "You really can't expect me to do everything for you, you know? How am I supposed to help if you don't even play your tiny little part?"
"And what part would that be?" Ander huffed. "I never asked you to do any of this in the first place!"
"Yes, but unlike you I actually care about my friends and want them to be happy!" Iker said, clearly not understanding why Ander was so angry.
The midfielder laughed at that, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement at all. "Happy?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He took a few steps towards Iker, who shied back a little, obviously expecting to be punched.
"This is exactly why I don't tell you things sometimes," he hissed. "Though you fuck them up anyway. Well, thanks for that." And with this, Ander stormed out, leaving a puzzled Mikel and a dumbfounded Iker behind.
They stared at each other in confusion for a while until Iker was the first to find his voice again.
"He's being an idiot," the striker told Mikel, as if that explained everything.
"Don't you think it's time you admitted defeat?" the defender suggested, but Iker looked at him as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
"Admit defeat when I'm right?"
"Well, evidently you're not!" Mikel groaned. "You think you have us all figured out, but you don't, and you need to get that into your head." He slid to the floor, rubbing his temples. "Look, you might have gotten the idea from somewhere that Ander has a crush on me, but he told me himself that it's not true. You should leave it be if you don't want to make things worse."
Iker ignored that. "I had hoped that he could at least be honest with you when it's just the two of you, alone, where nobody can hear or see you."
"For fuck's sake," Mikel cursed, burying his face in his hands. "Have you considered for even one moment that Ander might actually be honest?"
"But I know he isn't!" Iker all but shouted. "He all but spelled it out for Gorka when he asked him for advice about you a few days ago! And then again when he talked to Fer! And also, you're clearly his type!"
Mikel's breath caught in his throat at Iker's last words, and he felt the blush crawl over his face. He knew that he'd be foolish to hope Iker was right, especially after Ander had all but spelled it out to him that Mikel need not get his hopes up about him.
Iker had to have misunderstood Gorka, or Fer, or whoever he'd gotten the information from. In fact, Mikel doubted it was any of them at all because if Ander went to them for advice, the last thing they'd do was to go babble his secrets to the worst schemer on the team! It made no sense to Mikel at all.
And yet, a part of him wished Ander did fancy him, and he was even prepared to take his teammate's reaction as proof for that theory. If he was completely honest with himself, he would have reacted with denial just the same if he had been confronted by Ander in that manner. There was too much at stake; one did not just go and admit to fancying a teammate when one didn't even know how said teammate would react to the confession.
Mikel was really fond of his teammates and considered several of them close friends, but he couldn't say how any of them would react if they were confronted with a not exactly straight teammate, especially one who had a crush on them. The options were endless, and the majority of them not appealing in the slightest.
If there was any truth in Iker's words, then it would not be surprising that Ander was unwilling to spill the beans without the slightest hint that his words would be received well and he wouldn't face hell as a direct consequence.
All of a sudden, Mikel knew what he had to do, but he would be damned to allow Iker any more chances of interfering with things that didn't concern him.
"Just for your information, Iker," he said slowly, deliberately, giving his teammate his best glare. "Ander clearly isn't my type, and thanks to you I can never look at him again without cringing now, so I hope you're pleased."
It was cruel, yes, but Mikel didn't regret a word of it. If Iker had really wanted to help, he wouldn't have put Ander in this humiliating situation on no more than a hunch about what he and Mikel thought about each other. For that alone he deserved to be taught a lesson. And if the youngster was actually wrong about Ander's feelings for Mikel and had made the defender become aware of his own with no hope for a happy ending (which was always a possibility, no matter how much Mikel hoped it wouldn't be), then the lesson would be far from over.
He got up, brushed past Iker, and left him sitting on the floor of the storage room, pleased to notice the abashed look on his face. Let him feel guilty for what he'd done - he'd get over it too soon anyway.
On to » Part 2!
______________________________________________________________
1 Aitor Ocio was elected "Best Looking Player of La Liga" in a survey conducted by former football magazine Don Balón last year. Fernando Llorente came second in the election. [source]
2 In case anyone doesn't know about the legendary way José Iragorri on Radio Popular announces Athletic's goals, go and watch this video or this one or this one. (Or type in "radio popular athletic" in youtube, there are TONS of videos.) The "bakalaos" are the most hilarious thing in the world. José Iragorri has "nicknames" for every player as well, for example "Javi DIFERENTE Martínez", "Gaizka REVOLUTION Toquero", Igor OSO ONDO Gabilondo" and "Fernando MADARI ES QUE ES LA PERA Llorente". XD (A complete list of the nicknames is here.) The guy clearly rocks.
Author: txorakeriak
Fandom: Football RPS, Athletic Club Bilbao
Pairing: Ander Herrera/?, Gorka Iraizoz/Iker Muniain, Fernando Llorente/Javi Martínez
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I'm a lying bastard and made this all up. I don't claim to know any of the players I write about, they're most definitely not mine, and this very probably didn't happen. No payment involved, no offence intended. This is for my own entertainment.
Summary: Ander has a crush on someone. Gorka and Fernando are not amused. Javi and Iker start scheming and end up causing a gigantic mess. Fortunately, there is someone who keeps a relatively cool head…
Word Count: 13,705
A/N: Set about three months into the 2011/2012 season, which makes this future-fic.
Dedication: For my princess july_v because she needs to embrace the awesomeness that is Ander Herrera and understand that Ander is not a homewrecker, he's just looking for help! XD
Also intended as a little thank you to Kellie for the great e-mails and photos and the kind compliments about my fics.
And, last but not least, to celebrate the wonderful news that Ander has started training with the rest of the squad again after tearing his meniscus at the beginning of September! He was sorely missed! Aupa Ander!! :D
Allergy Warning: May contain traces of HMS Gay and flangst. Read at own risk.
Thanks to pinktoothbrush8 for the beta, and to liberta and whiny_writers for inspiring me to write fic again! I'm indebted to you! :D
Feedback: Everything is most welcome, from squee to constructive criticism. I even accept rotten tomatoes, so don't be shy. ;)
*****
Gorka knew his words would once come to haunt him, but he wouldn't have expected for it to happen so late. Ander had been training with the team for more than three months when he approached him in the locker room after training one day, a sheepish look on his face. Everyone else had already left, and yet he was speaking quietly, as if he was afraid anyone would hear him.
"You told me to come to you when I need any help," he said, shyly shuffling his feet.
Gorka let his duffel bag plop onto the bench and sat down, looking expectantly at his new teammate. "Sure," he said. "What's the matter?"
"Well…" Ander hesitated, obviously uncomfortable. "It's… it's sort of… difficult. Uhm. I was wondering if you know…" He paused for a while, then cleared his throat and looked up apologetically. "It's a bit embarrassing. Uhm…"
Gorka chuckled, successfully preventing himself from rolling his eyes. Kids and their problems. It was a good thing he didn't have anything scheduled for the next two hours, which was probably when Ander would finally get out whatever was bugging him. "Hey, don't worry about it. Whatever it is, you can ask me."
"Well, uhm…" Ander said after a while. "You see, I have this friend."
Gorka tried his best not to laugh. This was how all important confessions started. "I see. And your friend wants my autograph? It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone wants my autograph. It's just natural. I'm that awesome. I don't hold it against anyone."
Ander punched him in the ribs. "No, you ass," he said, and it was obvious that he wanted to pout but couldn't stop himself from grinning at Gorka's joke. "Come on, don't poke fun at me. This is a serious matter!"
Gorka threw up his arms in mock defense. "Right, right, I get it," he conceded with a smile. "Out with it, then. What is it?"
"Well, it's about a teammate," Ander finally mumbled, staring at his toes. "He's at the U-21 as well. Uhm… well, this friend I have is… well, sort of interested in him and…"
Gorka frowned. A teammate? At the U-21? Whatever Ander is driving at with this friend of his, Gorka had quite a good idea who this was all about, and he didn't like it one bit.
He'd seen Ander frolic around with Iker countless times since they had all started trained together, had seen the way he looked at him sometimes, had noticed every single time Ander put his hand around Iker's shoulder, or on his thigh, or on his arm. He had already suspected something but always dismissed it.
You're just being jealous, he had told himself. You're just imagining things. And you would be, with someone like Iker, who could have anyone he wants and has chosen you.
The reason he had always managed to dismiss it was that Iker had never given him any cause for jealousy anyway. He was affectionate to everyone, very affectionate, but he didn't single anyone out for special treatment. Well, except for Gorka, but only in private, where no-one could see them.
Now he couldn't dismiss it any longer. Now, suddenly, all the actions he'd witnessed seemed to have a deeper meaning.
He bit his lip, forcing himself to calm down. It would be wrong to lash out at Ander. He wasn't trying to steal Iker away from him because, just like everyone else, he had no clue Iker belonged to Gorka in the first place. Besides even if Ander was interested in Iker, that didn't mean the feeling was mutual. He should solve this like a grown-up.
But that was difficult.
"Let me tell you something," Gorka said quietly, trying his best not to betray his jealousy. "Forget about him."
Ander looked as if he was about to protest, but Gorka silenced him. "No, I mean it. Trust me on this. Iker doesn't make his private life a public affair but I know for a fact that he's taken, and you shouldn't stir things up. They're happy together. Leave them be."
"But-"
"Don't argue with me," Gorka said, growing slightly impatient. "I've given you an honest answer, I'm not gonna tell you any more."
"But I'm not-"
Gorka rolled his eyes. Was Ander playing dumb or was he really not getting it? He got up, picked up his duffel bag and gave Ander a long glare. "I'm telling you one last time," he hissed. "Keep your hands off Iker. He's not up for grabs."
And with this he stormed out of the locker room, ignoring Ander's loud protests.
***
Fernando had just finished lunch in a little restaurant outside the city when his phone beeped.
call me asap, it's urgent, i need to talk to you. ander.
Frowning, Fernando dialled the number and waited as the call was being processed.
"Yeah?"
"Hi Ander, it's me. What's up?"
"Hi. I need to ask you something. It's important. And also private. And a bit difficult to explain. Okay?"
Fernando chuckled. "Important, private, difficult to explain. Sounds intriguing. Tell me."
"You must promise you won't tell anyone about this."
"My lips are sealed." Whatever Ander wanted to talk about, this would be good.
"And you must promise me not to get mad."
The amusement on Fernando's face slowly made way to confusion. "Mad? Why? What did you do?"
"Promise?"
"Well, fine. I won't get mad. Now out with it."
"I would have asked someone at the U-21," Ander said instead of a reply, "but they're the worst gossip girls and would have poked fun at me until the end of days, so…"
"The U-21?" The frown on Fernando's face deepened. Why should he get mad about anything concerning La Rojita?
"Yeah, well, you see, it's like this," Ander said, hesitantly drawing out each syllable. "I have this friend, and he's interested in someone, and he's in the U-21, and here at Athletic, and-"
"What?" Fernando's mind boggled as he processed the information. "You have a friend in the U-21? And at Athletic? And he's interested in someone?"
"Noooo," Ander said impatiently, "the guy that my friend is interested in is in the U-21. And at Athletic. And this is why I need some advice. For my friend!"
Fernando couldn't frown any more deeply if he tried. "Your friend is interested in a teammate of ours? One that also plays for La Rojita?"
"Yes!"
"And… your friend would be a guy?"
"Yes," Ander said, sounding almost defiant. "Does that bother you or what?"
"No, it doesn't," Fernando said, and would have loved to add, "I have a boyfriend myself, so if other guys fancy other guys, they're welcome to do so!" but obviously he couldn't say that to Ander, or anyone, so he bit his lip and swallowed the words.
"Good." There was silence on the line for a while, then Ander spoke again. "So you'll help me?"
"I'll do my best," Fernando said, though he didn't know how exactly he was supposed to help Ander.
Matters like these required quite a bit of tact and a certain way with words, and he was neither a diplomat nor a born orator. It had been difficult enough for him with Javi back then, when he had made up his mind to finally tell Javi about this ridiculous, annoying and very persistent crush he had on him, and had to find a middle ground between not offending Javi and making himself clear to a completely oblivious person (and failed completely because Javi didn't get anything until Fernando kissed him on the mouth, and even then he spent about half a minute gaping at Fernando like a deer in headlights and then asked if he meant it, as if Fernando would snog random people without meaning it). It had all been worth it, the hours he spent trying to find the right words, the nervousness when he told Javi, the horrible sick feeling that spread in his stomach as he waited for Javi to say something. It had been worth it because Javi loved him back, and had done so for a good while, and still did today, and would hopefully do for a very, very long time. But that didn't mean it wasn't difficult, and Fernando couldn't imagine how anyone could have helped him with it.
But maybe Ander had a plan prepared in his head, and all Fernando had to do was play a part in it. He could always try.
"So, who is this friend of yours?" Fernando asked. "Do I know him?" He supposed it would be a lot easier to speak to him directly, but it turned out Ander didn't agree with him on that at all.
"You don't need to know," the younger man hurried to say.
"How am I to help, then?"
"Look, all you have to do is ask the other guy if he would consider being with… my friend. Okay?"
"And he's supposed to answer that question without knowing who your friend is?" Fernando chuckled at that. "I don't think that's going to work. If I were asked a question like this, I'd like to know who I should be considering!"
"Well, just ask him, okay? If he'd be with a guy? In general?"
"Would that help at all? What if he's into guys but you're not his type?"
"Just ask, please?"
Well, fine. Fernando shrugged. He supposed he could always ask. If the reply would be to Ander's liking was another matter. "Who shall I ask, then?"
"Well, isn't that obvious?" Ander let out an impatient sigh. "He's our teammate. He's in the U-21. He's tall. He's got brown hair and brown eyes. Do I need to spell out his name for you?"
Fernando's face darkened. A stab of jealousy went through him. "Whoever this friend of yours is," he said grimly, "tell him to stay away from Javi."
"But I-" Ander started to protest, but Fernando cut him off.
"I mean it," he said firmly. "And you better believe me if you or whichever friend of yours don't want to get into trouble."
And with that, he ended the call, hoping that Ander had gotten the message. He liked Ander, he really did, the guy was a great teammate and fun to be around, but that didn't mean Fernando was okay with him playing matchmaker for Fernando's own boyfriend.
***
"Do you know that Ander has a crush on you?" Gorka asked Iker that night, trying to seem as casual as possible, as if he were just making conversation.
Iker looked up from where he was lying snuggled against Gorka, relaxing after the heavy work-out the keeper had just given him, and breathing in the scent that always surrounded his boyfriend after they'd had sex.
"What?" he said, slightly drowsy. He had merely noticed Gorka talking but he hadn't paid attention to what had actually been said.
Gorka repeated the question, forcing himself to be calm, but when Iker reacted with loud laughter, he couldn't help feeling slightly annoyed.
"What's so funny? He does, you know. He asked me for advice in the locker room earlier."
Iker was still laughing. "Are you sure he meant me? Did he actually say that? Because from what I know, he's usually into tall guys. And, well, I am pretty gigantic in bed and have a gigantic personality and a gigantic dick and all, but he wants gigantism in other departments as well, so… yeah."
Gorka ignored Iker's jokes. "You talked about sexual preferences with him? Just like that?"
Iker shrugged against Gorka's arm. "Well, it came up one day, so we discussed it. Don't worry, I didn't tell him about you, I just said some general things."
Gorka sighed. He would have preferred it if nobody knew that his boyfriend was into guys, but he supposed that it wasn't too much of a problem to tell Ander if Ander was not exactly straight either. They might just as well keep each other's secrets - though this was as far as he wanted them to go.
"So did he mention me then, or did you jump to conclusions and end the conversation without allowing him to name names?" Iker nudged Gorka, and the keeper could have sworn that the younger man was grinning.
Gorka blushed, hating how well his boyfriend knew him. "I should apologise to him, huh?" he mumbled, embarrassed.
"You better," Iker said, stretching lazily before draping an arm across Gorka's stomach. "Ander is a good friend, and probably not too happy about having the hots for someone without getting anything back."
"Yeah," Gorka conceded, feeling like a proper asshole. "I shouldn't have snapped at him. I just…"
"Did you really think he would have a chance with me? When I have you?"
"Well…" Gorka swallowed. "I don't know. You're only eighteen, and you've got your entire life-"
Iker rolled his eyes. "Pleeease! Let's not have this stupid discussion ever again, okay?" He snuggled a bit closer to his boyfriend. "Dude, you're a bit of an idiot sometimes. But that's okay. You're my idiot."
Gorka smiled, pressing a kiss to Iker's forehead and praying the younger man would never come to his senses.
***
Javi was in the middle of watching a DVD with Fernando, enjoying one of the rare evenings they had all for themselves, when suddenly his mobile beeped. He briefly contemplated ignoring it because the film was good and he was snuggled so perfectly against Fernando that he didn't really want to move and reach for his mobile. Besides, the text message he had just received might have been from Ander.
Not that text messages from Ander were necessarily a bad thing, of course. However, Fernando had been a little weird ever since he got home after his lunch with a reporter from a women's magazine, asking him a load of strange questions about whether Ander had called him, or come visit, or e-mailed, or tweeted, or texted, or faxed, or used telepathy, as if he had just developed an Ander-paranoia over lunch. And he hadn't stopped until Javi had sworn a solemn oath that he had not in any way communicated with Ander or vice versa since training this morning, where they had just spoken about football-related things.
For the rest of the afternoon Fernando had been the role-model of a boyfriend, smiling at Javi more often than usual, being a lot more attentive towards him and more affectionate as well, even making him a special dessert after dinner. Javi had secretly checked every calendar in the house, even Fernando's appointment book, to find out if he had forgotten a special anniversary or anything, but there was nothing. In the end he figured that Fernando felt bad about his Ander-paranoia and tried to make it up to him.
And that was why, all things considered, it would be a pretty bad idea to draw Fernando's attention to Ander again now. But finally, curiosity got the better of him, and after five minutes of resistance, he disentangled himself slightly from his boyfriend and reached for his phone.
1 new message.
It turned out the message was from Iker, which was a good thing, but when Javi opened it, he realised he wouldn't have needed to be told the identity of the sender anyway because the style in which the message was written made it pretty obvious.
ander is in luuuuurve!!!!
"What an idiot," Javi chuckled, closing the message before putting his phone back on the table.
He did wonder a little why Ander had decided to inform Iker because he hadn't even been friends with him for that long and usually went to Javi to chat about important things. But obviously Iker was ecstatic about being confided in, and it just wasn't possible to begrudge him anything, so Javi decided to let the matter rest and approach Ander about it at training the next day.
"Who was that?" Fernando asked after a while, and it might have sounded completely casual if he hadn't had his bout of Ander-paranoia earlier.
Javi hesitated for a bit. It would not be difficult to tell the truth, but then Fernando might ask what Iker wanted, and Javi would have to admit that the message was about Ander, and alarm bells would ring in Fernando's head, and Javi wouldn't get any rest tonight.
On the other hand, Javi was aware that he was a very bad liar, and he was pretty sure that Fernando would get the truth out of him anyway, and then Javi wouldn't get any rest ever again in his life.
He finally settled for a nonchalant, "Oh, it was just Iker," hoping Fernando would leave it at that but not really expecting him to. Fernando was professionally incapable of refusing promising opportunities.
"What did he want?"
Right.
Javi mentally said goodbye to the prospect of a relaxing evening and a nice good-night-fuck and grabbed his phone to show Fernando the message.
"I must say it's beyond me how the bastard got the news before me, though," he added. Then, suddenly, a thought entered his head. "Did you know anything about this? Is this why you were so strange about Ander earlier?"
Fernando shrugged, his mouth a thin line.
"Who do you imagine is the lucky lady, huh?" Javi rambled, not quite sure what to make of Fernando's weird reaction. Was he jealous? Not that it made any sense, unless he wasn't satisfied with what he had (and Javi gulped as he realised that this wouldn't even be so far-fetched because, well, what Fernando had was Javi, and Javi wasn't perfect), but in that case Fernando would definitely have said something, so he forced himself to dismiss the idea before becoming tempted to ponder it in depth.
Fernando rolled his eyes at the question. "Lady? Lady boy, more like."
That Javi hadn't expected. "Huh?"
"Ander called me after lunch," Fernando finally explained, sounding rather grim. "He was talking about this friend of his, but it seems it was Ander himself all along."
The frown on Javi's forehead deepened. "What was?"
"Well, he said that his friend had a crush on someone, and that he needed some advice."
Javi laughed, elbowing Fernando in the ribs. "So he told you as well?" He would have pouted if he weren't too busy grinning. "Dude, am I the last person on earth to know about this? Why did he tell everyone but me?"
Fernando crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why do you think? Because he's got his eyes on you, of course!"
Javi stared at Fernando for a while, completely flabbergasted. Then, finally, he burst into loud laughter. "Oh God, so that's why you were acting so weird the entire evening? Because you think Ander has a crush on me?" He shook his head, dissolving into giggles again.
Fernando evidently didn't share Javi's amusement. "You think he doesn't?"
"Of course he doesn't!" Javi gave his boyfriend a playful nudge. "Come on! We're like brothers! We've known each other for ages!"
That didn't convince Fernando in the least. "But he said he - or rather, this ominous friend of his - has a crush on someone who plays for Athletic and the U-21, tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed… who is that supposed to be if not you?"
Javi looked at him in surprise. "He actually said that? All of that?"
Fernando nodded grimly.
"Dude, then it's pretty damned obvious who it is." Javi laughed. "Well, well, well, who would have thought?" He picked up his mobile again and started typing a reply to Iker. "I bet Iker will be annoyed to find out that I know more about this than he does."
"Or I." Fernando pouted. "Who the hell are you talking about?"
"It's Sanjo, of course, you silly," Javi said, finishing the message and sending it. "And unlike your theory, this one actually makes sense. When we were training for the Euro, Ander had kept throwing hints about how he likes people with substance, not lanky beanpoles or bags of bones." Javi chuckled. "He probably hoped for Sanjo to pick up on it, but he didn't. And neither did I."
Fernando bit his lip, looking sheepish. "Are you sure?"
Javi nodded. "If he really said all those things to you, then it has to be him. I just wouldn't have expected him to be into guys as well - I mean, what are the chances? The two of us, and him? And don't think I gave him any ideas because I didn't. As far as my love life is concerned, he firmly believes that I'm just really, really awkward around girls and therefore don't have a girlfriend."
"That's actually true, though," Fernando said with a grin, deftly evading the elbow that Javi directed at his ribs in revenge.
"Shut up. You should be glad that I make a mess of talking to girls, otherwise I would have a billion admirers who would vote me Best-Looking Player of La Liga ahead of you and Aitor1."
Fernando laughed. "Oh yes, that would be such a severe blow for my self-confidence."
Javi nodded. "Exactly. Your life would be ruined."
"Not yet. First all your billions of admirers would try to steal you away from me, and one would succeed because she has prettier hair than me, and then my life would be ruined." The pout on Fernando's face was priceless.
Javi shook his head. "Impossible," he deadpanned, gently running a hand through Fernando's blond curls. "Nobody could ever have prettier hair than you."
They burst into laughter together, giggling until they were out of breath, and when Fernando pulled Javi into a hug and kissed him, the midfielder decided everything was okay again and eagerly leaned into the kiss.
"We should do something," Javi said as they pulled apart.
Fernando grinned, demonstratively gazing up and down his boyfriend's body. "I have a couple of ideas there…"
Javi laughed, moving a bit closer to Fernando. "I was actually talking about Ander-" he began to explain the obvious, but then Fernando sneaked a hand into Javi's boxers and started to stroke him slowly, knowing all too well how to touch him, and the subject of Ander was forgotten.
***
The next day at training Javi was immediately cornered by Iker and pulled away from the rest of the squad in a conspiratorial manner, as if he were about to plot plans for a revolution.
"We need to do something about Ander," he said eagerly.
Javi laughed. "So does that mean you've finally worked out who this is all about?"
Iker pouted. "I might be tiny but I'm not stupid, thank you very much." He nudged his head in the general direction of where Mikel San José was stretching his legs. "Your text last night made it quite obvious."
They were interrupted by Marcelo Bielsa's loud order for everyone to gather around him so he could outline today's training plan for them, and Iker and Javi decided to postpone their plotting.
"How did you actually find out that it's Sanjo?" Iker asked as they sat in Javi's garden for a quick lunch about three hours later. Javi was feeding pieces of chicken to one of his dogs while Iker scratched the neck of the other.
Javi grinned. "You'd never believe it," he said. "Fer told me Ander had approached him for advice!"
"The hell?" Iker looked at him with big eyes, then laughed. "Dude, this is really really weird. Guess who else Ander asked for advice?"
Javi shrugged. "No clue."
"You wouldn't guess it anyway." Iker didn't even bother to grant Javi sufficient time to make guesses. "He asked Gorka."
Javi stared at him. "Gorka? Why?"
"It's weird, huh?" Iker agreed. "Unless Gorka is really Sanjo's best friend and nobody knows."
Javi laughed. "Because being Sanjo's best friend is totally something you'd want to keep a secret. I mean, I would understand if your best friend didn't want the rest of the world to know…"
Iker elbowed him, missing his ribs by mere inches. "You're just saying that because you're jealous that I have better friends than you."
"Yes, of course," Javi said with a grin, elaborately massaging the spot on his hip where Iker's elbow had hit him. "I've had a secret crush on you for years and I'm so heartbroken that you don't even consider me your best friend, despite my manifold attempts to win your heart."
"Yes, and you're also an asshole," Iker concluded, rolling his eyes. "And you need to shut up and concentrate on the matter at hand. What are we going to do about Ander?"
Javi shrugged. "I have no idea. I suppose telling Sanjo is out of the question?"
"Absolutely," Iker insisted. "Remember that officially we don't even know there's anything to tell. So we have to be clever. We have to test the waters but we mustn't let Sanjo realise what we're doing." The young striker grinned. "We must be stealthy like ninjas."
Javi looked at him sceptically. "Knowing you, that will be difficult."
Iker pouted hugely. "Why? I can be stealthy like a ninja! I can be completely subtle. Sanjo will have no clue what's going on and serve us all the information we need on a silver platter."
His friend was less than convinced, but as he didn't have a better plan, he figured he might just as well hand the reins over to Iker in this matter.
It wasn't necessarily the best decision he had made in his life.
***
The next day at training Iker did his best to make a complete fool of himself. He kept throwing long glances at Mikel, undressed demonstratively in front of him, and even had the audacity to waggle his butt at him before putting on his training shorts.
The glare he got from Ander was unmistakeable.
Most of their teammates were rolling their eyes at him and trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible.
"Has he completely lost his mind now?" Carlos Gurpegi asked Javi as he walked past, but didn't even wait for an answer.
Then Gorka slammed his locker shut and stormed outside, and Javi figured enough was enough. He quickly pulled Iker aside to prevent any further damage.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" he hissed, careful to keep his voice down. It was enough that the entire dressing room thought Iker was flirting with Mikel, they didn't need to get the impression that Javi was jealous.
Iker put on his most innocent expression. "I'm doing nothing. Just testing the waters, 'ninja style'!"
"Ninja style?" Javi slammed his head against a nearby locker as discreetly as possible, hoping in vain it would stop the headache that Iker's ridiculous explanation had caused. "You've got the subtlety of a Viking invasion!"
Iker shrugged, unimpressed. "I don't see what your problem is. I'm trying to find out if Sanjo likes guys without attracting any special attention to Ander. I'd say that's a pretty clever plan!"
"And how is your shameless parading supposed to tell us anything about Sanjo's interests?" Javi sighed, exasperated. "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that there are gay guys out there who don't find you sexy at all?"
Iker blinked at him. "There are?"
Only then did Javi realise what he'd just said. "There have to be," he hurried to say, hoping Iker wouldn't start asking questions about how Javi knew anything of the interests of gay guys. The last thing Javi needed was Iker prying in his private life, especially when he was in the middle of making such a botch of Ander's. "Anyway," he added, "I think you should try a different approach. You saw that Sanjo wasn't too impressed with what you did, and some of the others were quite unimpressed - or negatively impressed, rather." He bent down to tie his shoelaces.
"Why?" Iker still didn't see where he was in the wrong.
"Did you see the look on Ander's face? Or Gorka's?" Javi shook his head. "One might think Gorka is indeed Sanjo's best friend, considering his reaction!"
That finally made the self-confident look on Iker's face transform into a frown. "Gorka? Why? What did he do?"
"He slammed the door of his locker shut and ran out, and if this was a comic he'd have a red face and puffs of smoke would be coming out of his ears. Do I need to make you a drawing?"
"Whoops." Iker actually had the decency to look sheepish. "I'll make it up to them," he swore solemnly. "And they'll forgive me. They have to. They love me too much to stay mad at me for long, right?" Without even waiting for a reply he left the room to join the others outside.
Javi put on his training shirt and followed his teammate, hoping that Iker wasn't currently making up an even worse plan to replace the one that had clearly failed.
***
When Gorka returned to the locker room after his training session, the others were still training, practicing setpieces and particular moves. It was Raúl's turn to keep the goal, and Gorka had never handed over his duties as eagerly as today. He had managed to suppress his anger well enough during training, but it had returned with a vengeance when Mikel had given Iker a slap on his butt for some particular silly thing he'd said. Usually he wouldn't even have batted an eyelash at things like that, they were ordinary, everyday occurrences, especially since the atmosphere in the squad was really good and everyone was getting along well.
However, today he couldn't just brush them aside, and so he'd decided not to wait for the others to finish training but to get out of Lezama as soon as possible, before anyone would make the mistake of asking him why he was in such a foul mood.
The cheerful look on Iker's face as Gorka found him on his doorstep later didn't help matters at all.
"What the hell was that earlier?" the keeper hissed after closing the door behind his boyfriend, hoping despite his anger that he would still be able to call Iker that once their conversation was over.
Gorka's harsh words did a good job of clearing the cheerfulness from Iker's expression. "I thought you'd be pleased!" he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I just proved to you beyond the shadow of a doubt that Sanjo is not at all interested in me!"
Gorka had expected several possible answers, but not this one. "Sanjo?" he spluttered. "I never thought Sanjo was interested in you! We were talking about Ander - who, incidentally, looked like bloody murder when you did your silly little peep show." Gorka scowled.
Strangely enough, Iker's face lit up in a grin at that. "He did?"
"Yes, he did! And I don't understand why you're grinning!" Gorka sighed. "If you have to make a fool of me, that's fine, it's my fault anyway for letting you, but you shouldn't pick on others like that."
Iker was too excited to acknowledge the accusation. "Don't you see? Ander was mad! Which proves everything!"
Gorka frowned. Whatever it was supposed to prove in Iker's weird mind, he didn't see it.
"It does!" Iker insisted. "He thought I was making a pass at Sanjo, and he was mad at me for it, so there you have it! He was jealous, which means he fancies Sanjo!"
"Or he was jealous that you made a pass at Sanjo and not at him," Gorka grumbled, unconvinced by Iker's reasoning.
The striker rolled his eyes. "You're a pessimist. Besides, we've already established that no matter how hard it is to believe, I'm actually not Ander's type."
"You have established that," Gorka pointed out, though Iker's faith in his own theory and the way he kept brushing off any possible interest from Ander's side as completely irrelevant, managed to calm Gorka down a little despite himself.
"Yes, and you'll see I'm right," Iker insisted. "By the way, I'm not making a fool of you at all," he added, putting an arm around Gorka's waist. "If you would finally get it into your stubborn head that I'm not interested in anyone else when I can have you, and that I'm not even thinking about it even when you're being insufferable and jealous and making up things in your head that aren't true-"
"I get it, I get it," Gorka conceded, feeling ridiculous. "I'm being an idiot, I'm sorry, it's just… well, you know what I mean." He pulled Iker into a hug. "I'm very possessive about what's mine."
Iker rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have noticed," he said with a grin. "Now can we have dinner, please? I'm starving!"
Gorka's stomach rumbled in affirmation. "Good idea. Let's eat, and then you can tell me all about your ingenious plans concerning Ander. Whatever you're going to do next time, it's probably better if I get a warning in beforehand."
Iker grinned. "I would have told you anyway so you can appreciate my genius. Which is of epic proportions, by the way."
Gorka laughed and dragged his not so very humble boyfriend into the kitchen. "Stop bragging, or I'll stuff your mouth."
"Mmmm," Iker said, winking cheekily at his boyfriend. "You can stuff anything you like into my mouth after dinner, okay?"
Gorka had no objections to that. It had to be the best plan Iker had had in a long while.
***
The next day was a matchday, which suited Iker well as it meant staying overnight in a hotel in Santander with the rest of the players who were called up. He would have managed to carry out his plan in other circumstances as well, of course, but having the entire squad in one place made things considerably easier for him.
Gorka had explicitly advised him to forget everything about the plan he had concocted, and even Javi had expressed doubts, but Iker was convinced that this was his best idea ever, or at least very close to it, and so he didn't care about what other people thought.
Thankfully his boyfriend had agreed not to interfere or, worse, to tell the coach. In return, he had made Iker promise to wait until after the match to annoy his teammates.
Iker was reluctant to guarantee that at first, arguing that a happy ending for Ander and Mikel would have had a positive impact on their performances in the match. However, Gorka had been relentless, and thankfully it turned out that extra motivation wasn't necessary. The entire team played well enough to add three more points to Athletic's league account and, if they were lucky, heave the club back into a European position at the end of the matchday, depending on the result of the following day's match between Atlético Madrid and Sevilla FC.
***
The atmosphere on the bus was brilliant and improved further still by Marcelo Bielsa's declaration to grant his players a curfew extension of two hours.
Mikel dropped his bag in his room, pondering how to spend the extra two hours he had before bedtime. Some of his teammates had agreed to go play cards in Gurpe's room, but the idea had sounded about as tempting to Mikel as staying in his own room and reading a magazine. He'd declined politely when they'd asked him to join.
He assumed that Iker and Ander had gone to Javi's room to play videogames. They usually did that after away matches, unable to put football aside for mere seconds. And yet, just when Mikel left his room, he ran into Javi, appearing to be headed for the stairs.
Javi stopped right in his tracks when he spotted his teammate. "I was just about to go down to the bar for a coke and the match highlights," he explained. "Want to join me?"
Mikel nodded gratefully. Having a drink and watching match highlights seemed like a very good idea. He was a bit tired already, but he figured that watching TV with Javi wouldn't require a lot of mental or physical strength, and besides, he could do with a drink as well.
The hotel bar was almost deserted when they arrived. It was still fairly early in the evening, and there were lots of bars and cubs in immediate vicinity of the hotel. Unlike the Athletic team, the other guests could seek entertainment anywhere they pleased, and it was only logical they'd prefer proper nightlife to what the hotel had to offer.
The bar was reasonably stocked though, offering a wide selection of liquors as well as three different brands of beer and four varieties of each colour of wine. A big flatscreen TV hung in one of the corners, displaying clips of the matchday, and Mikel had to grin when the programme reached the Athletic match. The win had come at just the right moment, a welcome change to the three draws they had to suffer previously, especially the last one, when the ball had simply refused to enter the opponent's goal.
The two players happily discussed the events of the match, cracking jokes about their teammates and enjoying their drinks. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't even see Iker approach them until he was standing right in front of their table and started shouting "Bacalaobacalaobacalaobacalaobacalao!" in the fashion of José Iragorri's famous goal celebration chant on Radio Popular2.
"Fuck, Iker, you epic moron!" Javi cursed, all but spilling his coke onto his white polo shirt in shock, and Mikel was glad he had already put his glass back on the table before Iker had started yelling.
Iker ignored the insult, feigning innocence. "How else was I supposed to get your attention?" He grabbed Mikel's glass from the table and gulped down its entire contents before the defender could protest. "You won't be needing that anymore," the youngster declared. "The coach is looking for you. He asked me to bring you to him as soon as I find you, preferably half an hour ago."
Mikel frowned. Marcelo Bielsa was not called "El Loco" for no reason, as he had realised by now, but he always discussed their matches with the whole team present. Whatever had prompted him to single Mikel out before bedtime had to be important.
He quickly excused himself from Javi, who said he'd stay to watch the rest of the football programme, and went up the stairs with Iker.
"Did he say what he wanted?" he asked, hoping he didn't betray too much of the uncomfortable feeling in that spread in his stomach.
"No, but he said you should wait for him in there," Iker said, pointing at a door at the end of the corridor.
Mikel went to open it and peeked inside the room, but before his mind could process that there was no light on, that the entire floor was covered with boxes of football equipment, and that it was probably not the place where Bielsa usually held conversations with his players, he felt a rough nudge against his back. He tumbled forward, and a second later the door slammed shut behind him.
He groped for the handle in the dark, but it was no use. Before he even found it, a key turned in the lock, ruining his hopes for a quick escape.
Damn you, Iker.
Suddenly, Mikel heard a clanking noise nearby and turned around. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, and he couldn't even find a light switch, but there was someone in the room with him, someone very very frustrated.
"Whoever this is," a male voice said, "please get those stupid handcuffs off me so I can brutally murder Iker."
Baffled, Mikel walked in the general direction of where the voice had come from, grateful that his eyes were slowly growing accustomed to the dark. He thought he'd recognised the voice but he couldn't grasp why the hell Iker would lock up one of his best mates in a storage room, so he had to make sure.
"Ander?" He asked tentatively, carefully avoiding the boxes and bags on the floor as he walked.
The other guy let out an audible sigh. "Of course. I'm so going to kill that imp."
"Have you been in here long?" Mikel asked, finally reaching the struggling shape of his teammate.
"Long enough," Ander replied grumpily. "And how did he get you in here? I assume it was Iker?"
Mikel nodded, then realised Ander could probably not see him. "Yes, it was. He told me el Míster wanted to see me."
"The little shit," Ander cursed. "Anyone would have fallen for that."
"Why, what did he say to you?" Mikel said, reaching for the cuffs that tied Ander's hands to a gas pipe in the wall. Iker had obviously watched too many James Bond films.
"The key is on the table over there," Ander said instead of a reply. "Iker was kind enough to give me that information before he went to get you."
Mikel made his way across the room to get the key from the table. Fortunately he could see the outlines of the furniture and the boxes by now so he could move faster.
"And if you must know," Ander said as Mikel finally unlocked the cuffs, "Iker told me that there was an orgy going on in one of the rooms across the yard and I had to close my eyes and put my hands behind my back while he would open the curtains so I could see." He sighed again. "You can laugh now."
Mikel bit back a grin. "That was pretty gullible of you, don't you think?" he said with a smile, tossing the cuffs on the floor. It wasn't even the fuzzy kind of cuffs, usually red or pink, just an ordinary pair made of metal that probably came with a carnival kit of a policeman.
"I know," Ander admitted, dejected. "I probably deserved getting locked up in here and tied to a gas pipe for believing that crap."
"Why did he lock you up in here in the first place?" Mikel asked. He was still pretty much in the dark about why Iker had played a prank like this on Ander of all people.
The midfielder hesitated.
"Come on!" Mikel encouraged him. "He locked me in here as well! I think I have a right to know."
"Well…" Ander started, rubbing his wrists. "Iker might have gotten the crazy idea into his head that I have a crush on you."
"What?" Mikel stared at Ander, quite certain that his teammate was kidding, but it was too dark to see his face.
"Don't worry!" Ander said quickly. "It's just Iker, you know he's insane!"
Mikel frowned. It didn't make sense to him at all that Iker would make up something like this and subsequently lock up the two of them in storage room, but then again it was Iker, and it was generally difficult to see sense in what the youngster was thinking.
"So it's not true?" he asked, surprised by the sudden hollow feeling in his stomach. He had never even thought about seeing Ander as anything else than a teammate and a friend, but now his mind was suddenly feeding him images of alternatives and he was baffled to find that they didn't repulse him at all. Quite to the contrary, he realised he actually found them interesting.
Unfortunately, Ander didn't seem to find the idea interesting at all. "Of course not!" he insisted, and Mikel cursed Iker in his head.
It was really unfair - all things considered - not even just the fact that he was locked in a dark room but also that Iker had managed to make him look at Ander with different eyes and really enjoy what he was seeing, only to be rejected. He'd have been quite happy without the experience.
And now he couldn't unsee what he'd seen.
He turned to the wall, about to resume his search for a light switch, then decided against it. Chances were Ander would see the disappointment on his face and that was the last thing Mikel wanted. Better to stay in the dark and wait for Iker to let them out again. However long that would take.
The silence was stretching, and Mikel wanted to say something, but everything he thought of had something to do with Ander having or not having a crush on him. He figured he better not start with that topic again unless he wanted Ander to think he fancied him.
He wasn't even sure he fancied Ander yet. His teammate was a great guy and all, with a good sense of humour and, as far as Mikel had seen (without really having been aware of it until now), Ander was also quite attractive with his taut body and his cheeky smile, but… All right, maybe Mikel did fancy him a little, but that didn't mean he'd do anything about it, not even if Ander hadn't told him he wasn't interested.
Mikel had been with guys before, of course, but a teammate was another matter entirely. He'd always believed in not mixing work with his private life. Being friends with teammates was fine and also recommendable, but that had always been as far as it went. And if Iker hadn't put the stupid idea into his head, he would not have considered being with a teammate for a single second.
Iker. The thought of paying him back for the mess he'd caused seemed very appealing.
"Mikel?"
The defender turned his head. Ander had moved to sit on the floor, framed by two paper boxes.
"Yes?"
"We're okay, right?" Ander asked almost hesitantly.
"Sure!" Mikel assured him quickly, feeling guilty for having given his teammate cause for doubts. "I was just thinking about how to get back at Iker for this," he explained, and even though that wasn't exactly the reason for keeping so quiet, at least it wasn't a complete lie.
"He deserves a lot of pain," Ander said grimly. "Do you have any ideas?"
Mikel bit his lip. All ideas that were currently running through his head had to do with being alone with Ander in a dark room, and he had a feeling his teammate wouldn't really like to hear about them.
"Not really," he admitted. "I agree that killing him sounds tempting but I doubt he'd learn anything from that." It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Ander chuckled.
"You're right - and also, it's too quick," the midfielder added. "Long suffering would be fairer."
Mikel laughed. "Come on! Being locked in with me can't be that bad!"
"No, no," Ander said quickly, making it obvious he hadn't gotten the joke at all. "I hope you're not taking this personally. I'm really not complaining about you being here, it's just-"
"Dude!" Mikel said, nudging his friend. "You're locked in, and only a moment ago you were cuffed to a gas pipe! I know my company is the least of your worries. It was a joke. I was just trying to lighten up the atmosphere a bit."
"Sorry," Ander mumbled, sounding sheepish. "Of course."
Not that it helped much, Mikel thought. "I'm not really good at being funny, I know."
"You are," Ander protested, "you're doing fine, really. It's just me being cranky and all. It will pass as soon as I get my hands on Iker."
The reaction made Mikel smile. Even his grandmother, who usually praised him into the skies and thought the world of his grandson, agreed that he couldn't tell jokes very well, so it meant quite a lot to him that Ander had contradicted him. Of course, there was a chance he was just being polite, or feeling bad for letting his crankiness out on Mikel, but it didn't matter. A compliment was a compliment, and Mikel intended to appreciate it as such.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a key being inserted into the lock of the door, followed by the faint click of the handle. Then, finally, the door opened, the light went on, and Mikel threw up his arms to shield his eyes.
"Don't all thank me at once," he heard the familiar voice of Iker, cheerful as always, and also more than just a little smug. "One after the other is fine. And be detailed. I know I'm awesome but it can't hurt to hear it again."
"You're a fucking idiot, that's what you are," Ander growled, getting up from the floor. "And if you don't apologise right this instant, I swear I'll throttle you."
Iker pouted. "Throttle me? You should be grateful I helped you, even though you were being a crappy friend and keeping secrets from me!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You wouldn't have deserved my help at all, but I'm a nice person and decided to be generous, and this is what I get: insults and threats." He looked at Mikel. "Et tu, Brutus? Do you want to be an ungrateful ass as well or will I get at least a little 'thanks' from you before I leave you two to fuck?"
"What?" Mikel croaked hoarsely, staring at Iker and trying his best not to blush. The remark about leaving him and Ander so they could fuck cleared every last trace of rational thought from his head.
The shocked look on Mikel's face obviously came as a surprise to Iker. "What do you mean, 'what?' Has Ander not told you anything while you were in here together?" He frowned. "What the hell have you been doing all this time?"
Mikel chased the distracting images of him and Ander out of his head, which took considerable willpower, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Cleared up the mess you made?" he said defiantly. "Hasn't it occurred to you even once that cuffing someone to a gas pipe is a stupid idea?"
Iker shrugged. "It did the trick. Ander would have bolted out of the room as soon as I shoved you in there." He looked a bit disappointed, to say the least. "So you didn't find the handcuffs on Ander sexy at all?"
Mikel rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot!" Only Iker could think that cuffs from a kids' costume would look sexy on anyone.
"Still, that doesn't explain why Ander didn't tell you anything." The striker cast a reproachful look at his friend, who was glaring back darkly. "You really can't expect me to do everything for you, you know? How am I supposed to help if you don't even play your tiny little part?"
"And what part would that be?" Ander huffed. "I never asked you to do any of this in the first place!"
"Yes, but unlike you I actually care about my friends and want them to be happy!" Iker said, clearly not understanding why Ander was so angry.
The midfielder laughed at that, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement at all. "Happy?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He took a few steps towards Iker, who shied back a little, obviously expecting to be punched.
"This is exactly why I don't tell you things sometimes," he hissed. "Though you fuck them up anyway. Well, thanks for that." And with this, Ander stormed out, leaving a puzzled Mikel and a dumbfounded Iker behind.
They stared at each other in confusion for a while until Iker was the first to find his voice again.
"He's being an idiot," the striker told Mikel, as if that explained everything.
"Don't you think it's time you admitted defeat?" the defender suggested, but Iker looked at him as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
"Admit defeat when I'm right?"
"Well, evidently you're not!" Mikel groaned. "You think you have us all figured out, but you don't, and you need to get that into your head." He slid to the floor, rubbing his temples. "Look, you might have gotten the idea from somewhere that Ander has a crush on me, but he told me himself that it's not true. You should leave it be if you don't want to make things worse."
Iker ignored that. "I had hoped that he could at least be honest with you when it's just the two of you, alone, where nobody can hear or see you."
"For fuck's sake," Mikel cursed, burying his face in his hands. "Have you considered for even one moment that Ander might actually be honest?"
"But I know he isn't!" Iker all but shouted. "He all but spelled it out for Gorka when he asked him for advice about you a few days ago! And then again when he talked to Fer! And also, you're clearly his type!"
Mikel's breath caught in his throat at Iker's last words, and he felt the blush crawl over his face. He knew that he'd be foolish to hope Iker was right, especially after Ander had all but spelled it out to him that Mikel need not get his hopes up about him.
Iker had to have misunderstood Gorka, or Fer, or whoever he'd gotten the information from. In fact, Mikel doubted it was any of them at all because if Ander went to them for advice, the last thing they'd do was to go babble his secrets to the worst schemer on the team! It made no sense to Mikel at all.
And yet, a part of him wished Ander did fancy him, and he was even prepared to take his teammate's reaction as proof for that theory. If he was completely honest with himself, he would have reacted with denial just the same if he had been confronted by Ander in that manner. There was too much at stake; one did not just go and admit to fancying a teammate when one didn't even know how said teammate would react to the confession.
Mikel was really fond of his teammates and considered several of them close friends, but he couldn't say how any of them would react if they were confronted with a not exactly straight teammate, especially one who had a crush on them. The options were endless, and the majority of them not appealing in the slightest.
If there was any truth in Iker's words, then it would not be surprising that Ander was unwilling to spill the beans without the slightest hint that his words would be received well and he wouldn't face hell as a direct consequence.
All of a sudden, Mikel knew what he had to do, but he would be damned to allow Iker any more chances of interfering with things that didn't concern him.
"Just for your information, Iker," he said slowly, deliberately, giving his teammate his best glare. "Ander clearly isn't my type, and thanks to you I can never look at him again without cringing now, so I hope you're pleased."
It was cruel, yes, but Mikel didn't regret a word of it. If Iker had really wanted to help, he wouldn't have put Ander in this humiliating situation on no more than a hunch about what he and Mikel thought about each other. For that alone he deserved to be taught a lesson. And if the youngster was actually wrong about Ander's feelings for Mikel and had made the defender become aware of his own with no hope for a happy ending (which was always a possibility, no matter how much Mikel hoped it wouldn't be), then the lesson would be far from over.
He got up, brushed past Iker, and left him sitting on the floor of the storage room, pleased to notice the abashed look on his face. Let him feel guilty for what he'd done - he'd get over it too soon anyway.
On to » Part 2!
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1 Aitor Ocio was elected "Best Looking Player of La Liga" in a survey conducted by former football magazine Don Balón last year. Fernando Llorente came second in the election. [source]
2 In case anyone doesn't know about the legendary way José Iragorri on Radio Popular announces Athletic's goals, go and watch this video or this one or this one. (Or type in "radio popular athletic" in youtube, there are TONS of videos.) The "bakalaos" are the most hilarious thing in the world. José Iragorri has "nicknames" for every player as well, for example "Javi DIFERENTE Martínez", "Gaizka REVOLUTION Toquero", Igor OSO ONDO Gabilondo" and "Fernando MADARI ES QUE ES LA PERA Llorente". XD (A complete list of the nicknames is here.) The guy clearly rocks.