Fundamental Forces; Gerrard/Alonso; R.
Title: Fundamental Forces
Characters: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Liverpool squad.
Prompt: 088.School.
Word Count: 4 025
Disclaimer: one word: fiction.
Rating: R
Summary: High school (boarding school) AU. He and Xabi couldn't be any more different, in most people's eyes. Xabi was the smart, responsible, well-rounded boy, and Steven… Steven just played football.
Author's Notes: for parvardigar. I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it. ♥ This is probably one of the longest one-shots I've ever done ever. And probably one of the happiest ones, too. Advanced happy birthday, Greta. :)
Also! I have no idea why but every time i have difficulty in a certain subject it comes out as fic? last year I wrote a chemistry related one, hahahfjksdhkfjas.
Xabi Alonso, student council president, debate co-captain and football second-team center-midfielder, is tired, sweaty and sore. His ankle throbs as he limps up the stone steps of Hillsborough Hall. Damn all of this, he thinks. Damn extracurricular activities, damn academics, damn these stone fucking steps.
Steven Gerrard, first-team football captain and all-around party boy, doesn't look up from his book as Xabi throws open the door and dumps his bag on his bed. Steven's become used to Xabi's stress-induced erratic behavior. Xabi makes a few angry noises and wobbles towards the bathroom door. He's eternally grateful for that shower-they both are. But Xabi's thankful for it for possibly more innocent reasons.
Xabi soon steps out of the shower, still tired and still sore, but at least not so sweaty anymore. Steven can tell that Xabi's pissed. It's being trapped inside a burning house: no way out, and hope to get the whole thing over with, quickly. Xabi grits his teeth and checks his swollen ankle. "Fuck," he says meaningfully. Xabi wishes they had refrigerators too, because an ice bag would have been great. He settles with elevating his ankle.
It alleviates the pain somewhat, but he's still pissed.
After four years of being Xabi's roommate, Steven knows that Xabi's in an angry, unforgiving place when Xabi's face pinches in and he tries (and generally fails) to do schoolwork. Even if there is no schoolwork to be done.
Steven regards him quietly over his copy of Crime & Punishment. Xabi opens his own copy violently and begins to read. Steven inhales deeply and sets aside his book; he's getting ready to take the plunge.
"How was your day?" he ventures. Xabi looks up from his book.
Steven feels as if the Xabi's anger could form a storm cloud. Or a tornado. Or a guillotine.
"I was late," he begins, "for debate training because Harry wouldn't shut the fuck up about the stupid student union campaigns which everyone is pretty fucking informed about anyway so there's no fucking need to read the whole fucking proposal, right? Right. So we ended the damn meeting at 4, when it was only supposed to be until three-thirty, and when I get to debate training everyone was partnered and prepping already and god. So I couldn't train because Lucas was partnered with someone else because well I don't fucking know, they thought I wasn't coming? Why the fuck would I not go to training? I couldn't fucking do anything about it so I had to stay and watch the damn debate, and Christ. And then football-" Xabi purses his lips. "I get tackled by Alvaro and now my ankle is sprained."
To Steven, it doesn't sound like a particularly crap day, as far as crap days go in Xabi Alonso's life. But the Steven's never heard Xabi curse so much in his life, so maybe it was.
Or maybe his ankle just hurt more than it looked. In any case, Steven is quiet. He knows Xabi's tired and burned out and pissed. Steven knows he has nothing consoling to say, so he doesn't.
"And Nagore broke up with me. Which makes no sense at all." Xabi drums his fingers on top of his book. "This is stupid."
Steven avoids Xabi's eyes and licks his lips. This is awkward. "Uh…?" he says feebly. Xabi casts him a sideways glance and re-opens his book. It effectively signals the end of their conversation. Steven lets out a soft sigh; no casualties this time. He does feel genuinely bad about Xabi, though. They're not best friends or whatever. They barely even talk when they're not in their room. But, Xabi's sort of like…an adopted brother from Spain, whilst all his other friends are legit brothers. Steven creases his eyebrow and tries to think of a way to make Xabi feel better.
He still has a couple of bottles of mixed drinks stashed away inside his trunk-leftovers from the last party he held. And he knows that Xabi has a pack of cigarettes hidden somewhere in the medicine cabinet.
Xabi still is a boy, after all. Subject to sin and whatnot. Steven mulls it over. It's a win-win situation, really. Xabi forgets about his problems (for the moment), and Steven gets to see him drunk! The only other time Steven ever saw Xabi drunk was in his sophomore year and he was as baked as a cake so he couldn't remember anything about it. Nothing could go wrong-not really, anyway.
Steven jumps off his bed and flips open his trunk. He hums an obscure tune as he tosses shirts and sundry school materials out of his trunk and into the already messy pile behind him. He finds the first bottle of Patron wrapped in his polo. He finds a shot glass with his tie wrapped around it. He finds another bottle, wrapped in one of his old papers. I do not remember doing this, he thinks to himself as he the paper-wrapped bottle aside. He finds a few more bottles, and by this time, Xabi had put down his book and began to watch him with keen interest.
"What on earth are you doing?" he asks, as Steven picks up a pile of rumpled clothes and dumps it unceremoniously back into his trunk. There are a line of drinks by Steven's bed. "I," Steven says with a little smile as he unscrews the cap off a bottle of rum, "am merely showing my appreciation for you, Xabi, the best roommate ever, by throwing you a little party." He pours the amber liquid into a shot glass, and hands it to Xabi. "Now, you must forgive me for being a bit short on other…party favors, but as you may well deduce, this was all very impromptu." He pours himself a glass and raises it to Xabi.
"To our last year of hell." Xabi arches an eyebrow at him, but clinks their glasses together anyway.
*
Xabi is very, very, very drunk. He has never been this drunk ever, not even when he did three continuous beer bongs and passed out on the floor. He's so drunk he's beyond passing out.
He and Steven long ago (around 10) decided that cups were useless and bottles were the best things on earth, well. Next to what was in the bottles, anyway.
Xabi's lying on the cool white tile of the bathroom, watching the smoke from his cigarette swirl around with the steam coming from the shower. No one's in the shower. Xabi giggles. He wonders why the shower's on.
Steven bursts into the bathroom holding a bottle of tequila. He's swaying slightly. Or maybe Xabi's swaying. Or maybe the world is swaying, Xabi thinks, taking a final drag off his cigarette and flicking it into the half-full bathtub.
"That is not at all possibly safe." Steven says before taking a swig of tequila. "This is the best thing ever."
Xabi laughs. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Neither does your face!"
Xabi laughs, again. He gets up unsteadily (and with the help of the sink) and wobbles back into their room. Steven's standing in front of his bed. Xabi feels a huge urge to tackle him, so he does.
Steven says something between "fuck!" and "jesus!" Xabi laughs into Steven's chest. Steven wriggles underneath him. "You are heavy," he says.
"I am not!" Xabi says indignantly.
Steven groans.
Xabi knows he's too close because he can see a line of tequila that starts on Steven's collarbone and ends on his bottom lip.
He wants to lick it, so he does.
*
Xabi wakes up because the sunlight shines directly on his eyelids. His head is aching. It's as if his brain wants to escape from his skull. He squeezes his eyes closed.
Then he notices that his hand is under Steven's shirt. He tries not to scream (like a girl). Instead, he scrambles off Steven's bed and into his own. During the entire process, he feels as if his brain is being sloshed around in a snow cone. Oh god, he thinks, kill me.
Steven wakes up a few minutes later. Xabi can hear him. Steven groans.
Xabi tries not to twitch. There cannot possibly be a mature way to deal with this kind of situation. He wants to bury his head in a pot of sand.
He hears Steven get up and walk to the bathroom. "Fucking aspirin," Steven says to no one.
He soon hears Steven walk out of the room. Xabi sits up slowly, all the while clutching his head. He walks into the bathroom to see if a shower could help the throbbing.
There is a raft of cigarette butts floating around the bathtub.
What the fuck.
**
Xabi's tried his very best to be optimistic about the whole being shipped off to boarding school thing. Nothing bad could go wrong-not really, anyway. His English was above average, even if he still had an accent. And it was just four years, right? He could live without having to fight over things with his two brothers.
Mikel had gone to the Academy too, and he turned out perfectly fine.
Just four years, he thinks to himself as he turns the brass knob of his dorm room.
Xabi's roommate likes football. Xabi knows this because a) there is a football on his bed, and b) his roommate has a Robbie Fowler poster up. Xabi relaxes with relief. At least there's one thing he and his roommate can get along about.
"Hi," Xabi says. He holds out his hand. His roommate takes it with a smile.
"Stevie Gerrard," he says.
"Xabi Alonso," Xabi says. The room isn't too bad. They have a bathroom (which his parents have to pay an extra €500 per semester for) and there's a decent amount of space between his bed and Stevie's. They each have respective desks (which look out on the quadrangle) and cabinets and Xabi's bed is just as soft as his bed at home.
"Play football?" Stevie asked.
"Yes," Xabi answers. He's unpacking his bags and systematically placing his uniforms in his cabinet.
"Plan on joining the team?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"My brother's part of the team," Stevie says, not at all trying to disguise the pride in his voice. "He's co-captain."
Xabi restrains himself from spitefully saying 'so what?'
They're quiet for a moment.
"Do people really call you Stevie?"
"Yeah. Real name's Steven, obviously. But no one calls me that."
"Can I call you that?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"I feel like it."
Steven scoffs.
"Sure, I guess."
*
Steven is secretly proud to have a roommate that's in the student council. Except. Xabi's become less amiable, and much, much more angry. And he's beginning to curse a lot, too. He spends a lot of nights reading books that don't need to be read, and because Xabi keeps the light on and listens to music Steven never ends up sleeping properly, either. Xabi becomes cranky and he snaps at Steven more often.
But only around Steven. When they're outside of the room, Steven always notices that no matter how dark the skin around Xabi's eyes are, Xabi's smile is still as bright, his voice not at all gruff.
Maybe acting was part of the job description.
Steven is behind Xabi in the cafeteria.
"All right, then?" Steven asks, playfully digging the empty tray against Xabi's back.
Xabi turns to him, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, why not."
They smile at each other for another second, and then Xabi turns to the Lunch Lady and asks for a cup of jell-o.
He and Xabi couldn't be any more different, in most people's eyes. Xabi was the smart, responsible, well-rounded boy, and Steven… Steven just played football.
Steven did have a bigger group of friends, though. That kind of thing matters (sometimes).
*
At the end of his junior year, Xabi was nominated for president of the student council.
Two weeks into his senior year, he, along with the other officers, were initiated. A week after that, he told his coach that he needed to be moved to the second team (or the reserve team, or the team that just trained all the time and never played a game ever) because his schedule was too demanding.
Xabi spends his nights shifting between reading proposals and current headlines. He stays up all the time that he's not at all fazed when Steven bursts into the room, deliriously drunk from the "party" Carra had in his room, a few doors down. Xabi is used to being no fun.
Sometimes he goes inside the bathroom and lets the shower run so that no one can smell the cigarette smoke because of all the steam. Sometimes he goes with Sami to watch the football team play against some other private school's team, but Sami knows that all Xabi really does is listen to the cheering and look at his phone. Xabi does look up, occasionally (when Steven's name is yelled out by the commentator).
**
"Xabi, you're no fun at all," Steven says to him when he comes back from eating lunch. It's three in the afternoon, and Xabi's head still throbs occasionally, but he's not that hungover anymore.
Xabi grunts from behind his laptop. He's only had half a burger to eat.
"Seriously. When was the last time you genuinely had fun?"
"I don't know, a few seconds ago when we weren't talking."
"You are lame like Everton is lame. Come on let's do something."
"Why don't you go play football with your friends or do whatever you guys do?"
"Because they're all studying and being lame like you."
"A wise decision, I should think, as exams begin two days from now."
Steven cuffs him on the side of his head.
"Spoken to Nagore yet?" He asks. Steven knows he's teetering on the edge of awkward inappropriateness, but he doesn't really care.
"No," Xabi says with an air of finality that he knows Steven always disregards.
"Have you eaten anything?"
"No."
"Let's eat."
"You just came from the cafeteria."
"So what? Food is the best cure for a hangover!"
"That cannot possibly be true. It's got to be something like a bloody Mary or more alcohol or something."
"Xabi. You're taking to the boy that spent half his high school life drunk. Come on; let's get you something to eat."
Xabi turns his laptop off with some reluctance, but follows Steven towards the cafeteria. It's relatively empty, and Steven makes Xabi take a seat as he takes a tray and begins to fill it up. Xabi tries to think of pressing issues, things he needs to write proposals and letters and read books for, but all he can think of is why his hand was under Steven's shirt and maybe it was all just an awkward drunken grope and-Xabi tells his mind to shut up.
Steven sets a tray with a piece of roast beef, mashed potatoes, a slice of cheesecake and a bottle of water on it.
"Bon appétit!" He grins.
Xabi eyes the food warily. He doesn't remember the last time he's had a full meal like this. He tells Steven this.
"I figured," Steven says. "All you eat is jell-o and sandwiches. Horrible diet you have, mate."
Xabi smirks and begins to eat his food.
Steven checks his phone occasionally, and Xabi tries his very best to not to think about what happened the night before, but he can't help it.
Maybe the reason Steven's being so nice to him is because he remembers what happened.
Xabi thinks he remembers what happened. He remembers taking shots with Steven, then deciding that drinking straight from the bottle was much more gratifying, he remembers lying on the bathroom floor, and he remembers tackling Steven... Xabi finishes eating and puts his tray on the mess pile. He and Steven walk back to the dorm in silence.
"Steven," Xabi starts. The pond is an odd shade of orange-pink because of the setting sun. "What happened last night?" he makes his voice light, and tries to speak nonchalantly.
Steven glances at him and checks his phone.
"You got blazing drunk, that's what," Steven says. He's grinning. Xabi scoffs.
"I know I got drunk. Did anything embarrassing happen?"
Steven avoids Xabi's eyes, but pretends not to. "No, nothing of that sort."
Xabi's fears are confirmed.
They reach the dorm without saying anything else about the previous night's shenanigans, and Xabi goes straight back to his laptop to avoid any more awkwardness.
*
It's Sunday night and Xabi feels very proud of himself. He finished studying for his Physics exam and editing his paper, and it was only ten. He smiles at his reflection as he begins to brush his teeth.
Steven shuffles into the bathroom, lips pressed in a thin line. "I cannot, for the life of me, understand this friction work shit." Xabi spits out the foam in his mouth.
"I'll explain it to you in a bit."
They sit beside each other on Steven's bed. Their knees and their arms are touching.
This is not awkward. This is not awkward at all. Xabi chants to himself. I am being a good person and I am helping Steven understand Friction.
"Fuck this," Steven groans. He rests his head on his book. Xabi chuckles and pats him on the back.
"You're doing all right. Come on, I want to sleep before twelve please."
"Oh thanks. No pressure at all." Xabi ruffles Steven's hair and they begin to do problem sets again.
Xabi yawns and rests his head on Steven's shoulder. "Have you considered just winging it?" he asks with his eyes closed.
Steven rubs his eye. "I guess so." He yawns. "You can sleep now, if you like."
"Do you get everything?" Xabi doesn't move.
"Maybe?"
Xabi smiles. "Physics is after lunch, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'll re-explain everything tomorrow."
"Okay."
Xabi sits up and yawns again.
"Thanks, Xabi." Steven says.
"No problem," Xabi answers as he collapses on his bed.
*
Xabi walks in his dorm room 20 minutes after the start of lunch break. Steven's already there, asleep on Xabi's bed using Xabi's physics book as a pillow. Xabi smiles to himself.
"Steven," Xabi says, gently shaking his roommate awake.
Steven cracks open an eye and looks at him. "Already?" he asks, voice raspy.
"Have you had anything to eat?"
"No. But it doesn't matter. Need to learn."
They discuss friction and work again, and Xabi stops talking when he hears Steven's stomach grumble.
"Attractive," he says with a smirk.
"I'm sorry my stomach isn't made of iron like yours!" Xabi laughs.
"Get something to eat, for god's sake. I'll see you in class."
"I'm not ready for failure," Steven says morosely.
"You will not fail, youngling. The force will be with you."
Steven laughs. "You are such a nerd."
*
Xabi decides to skip football training. He'll say it's because of his ankle, but it's not really bothering him anymore. He learned to become numb to the pain early on. Steven's not back from football training and Xabi's secretly relieved; he sets his laptop on his desk and begins to type his History paper.
Xabi stands up to stretch as Steven comes in. And then-
He's lying face-down on his bed and Steven is lying down on top of him.
"What the hell-"
Steven laughs and turns Xabi's body to face him.
"Consider this payback." Steven shoves a piece of chocolate into Xabi's mouth.
It tastes like it has alcohol in it. Xabi relishes the way the chocolate explodes inside his mouth.
"Wow, orgasm face?" Steven says, chuckling.
"Is this your way of showing gratitude? Tackling me and force-feeding me delicious food? Is this some newfangled means of torture? Are you fattening me before you eat me?"
Steven's eyes widen. "Sometimes you talk too much. Have another piece."
Xabi chews on it silently.
"The chocolates are thank you and the tackle is fuck you. It was all just a coincidence that I decided to say both things at once, I think."
"I think," Xabi says, licking his lips "that you just wanted to thank me and you just have a natural tendency towards violence."
"I have a natural tendency towards violence? I'm not the one who randomly tackles someone while under the influence! It just goes to show how your subconscious works."
Steven pops a chocolate in his mouth.
"Please sir, may I have another?" Xabi tries his best to sound like Oliver Twist and fails horribly.
Steven bursts out laughing. "Were you supposed to be Oliver Twist?"
"Shut up and give me chocolate, please. It's the only reason I'm allowing you to sit on my stomach."
"Oh I'm sorry, am I heavy?"
"Quite."
Steven rolls off him and leans against the wall. Xabi sits up.
"Where did you get these, anyway?" Xabi asks, taking one from the pack.
"That, my friend, is a trade secret. Just be happy I have them, hey?"
Xabi nods and continues to chew.
Steven looks at him, a small smile on his lips.
"What?" Xabi asks, licking his fingers.
"I never knew you liked chocolate," Steven says.
"Learn something new every day, don't you?"
Steven laughs.
Xabi knows he's too close because he can see a little bit of chocolate on Steven's lip.
He wants to kiss Steven, for no reason at all, other than wanting to.
Steven beats him to it.
His lips are soft and Xabi doesn't know why it's so shocking to him. Steven tastes like chocolate and grass, and he gently pushes Xabi down on the bed and Xabi obeys and-
Xabi's never felt like this before, and after four years of knowing Steven (Stevie) he knows that Steven's never felt like this before, either.
Steven's hands wander under Xabi's polo, and Xabi's hands pull on Steven's hair.
They pull away after a few moments, and they avoid each other's eyes. Xabi puts a piece of chocolate in his mouth and looks out the window.
Steven snorts. "Only you could make something like this awkward."
Xabi turns to him. "Fuck you."
"I bet you'd like that."
Xabi pulls Steven close and smashes their lips together. "You," Xabi says between kisses, "are a giant ass."
Steven laughs and kisses Xabi again. "You are still an awkward Spanish boy." Xabi pinches Steven's arm in response. Steven slowly begins to unbutton Xabi's polo, and Xabi pulls off Steven's shirt.
"You smell like the football field."
"Do you think insulting me makes you more attractive, Xabi?"
Xabi laughs. "I'm sorry?" He leans forward and kisses Steven. Xabi's hands touch all the muscles on Steven's back. He realizes that he likes the way Steven's mouth fits with his. Xabi's pretty sure mouths aren't meant to fit like that, but somehow, kissing Steven makes him lose all rational thought.
Steven's hand touches the top button on Xabi's trousers. "Is this...?"
"Yes," Xabi says quietly.
*
Xabi touches Steven's spine with undisguised wonder. This is crazy, he thinks. Absolutely crazy.
He's never thought anything could be so crazy in his life. His fingers touch the little bumps on Steven's back. Steven yawns and stretches, and Xabi closes his eyes and breathes out. He doesn't know how to feel; awkward and relieved just don't seem to cut it.
Steven turns to face Xabi, and he touches their foreheads together. Xabi closes his eyes.
"That was…" Steven starts. Xabi pulls Steven closer and presses their lips together. Xabi can feel Steven smile.
There are little patches of sunlight that heat up different parts of Xabi's arm, and it's all very pleasant, lying down in a small bed while being heated up by the early morning sun. Steven kisses him again.
"I should have gotten you drunk the first time we met, if I knew you'd be that good at…things," Steven says, chuckling.
Xabi laughs. "Fuck you."
They're silent for a while, relaxed and still heady from their new discoveries. And then Xabi's alarm clock rings and it's time to get ready for breakfast.
Characters: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Liverpool squad.
Prompt: 088.School.
Word Count: 4 025
Disclaimer: one word: fiction.
Rating: R
Summary: High school (boarding school) AU. He and Xabi couldn't be any more different, in most people's eyes. Xabi was the smart, responsible, well-rounded boy, and Steven… Steven just played football.
Author's Notes: for parvardigar. I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it. ♥ This is probably one of the longest one-shots I've ever done ever. And probably one of the happiest ones, too. Advanced happy birthday, Greta. :)
Also! I have no idea why but every time i have difficulty in a certain subject it comes out as fic? last year I wrote a chemistry related one, hahahfjksdhkfjas.
Xabi Alonso, student council president, debate co-captain and football second-team center-midfielder, is tired, sweaty and sore. His ankle throbs as he limps up the stone steps of Hillsborough Hall. Damn all of this, he thinks. Damn extracurricular activities, damn academics, damn these stone fucking steps.
Steven Gerrard, first-team football captain and all-around party boy, doesn't look up from his book as Xabi throws open the door and dumps his bag on his bed. Steven's become used to Xabi's stress-induced erratic behavior. Xabi makes a few angry noises and wobbles towards the bathroom door. He's eternally grateful for that shower-they both are. But Xabi's thankful for it for possibly more innocent reasons.
Xabi soon steps out of the shower, still tired and still sore, but at least not so sweaty anymore. Steven can tell that Xabi's pissed. It's being trapped inside a burning house: no way out, and hope to get the whole thing over with, quickly. Xabi grits his teeth and checks his swollen ankle. "Fuck," he says meaningfully. Xabi wishes they had refrigerators too, because an ice bag would have been great. He settles with elevating his ankle.
It alleviates the pain somewhat, but he's still pissed.
After four years of being Xabi's roommate, Steven knows that Xabi's in an angry, unforgiving place when Xabi's face pinches in and he tries (and generally fails) to do schoolwork. Even if there is no schoolwork to be done.
Steven regards him quietly over his copy of Crime & Punishment. Xabi opens his own copy violently and begins to read. Steven inhales deeply and sets aside his book; he's getting ready to take the plunge.
"How was your day?" he ventures. Xabi looks up from his book.
Steven feels as if the Xabi's anger could form a storm cloud. Or a tornado. Or a guillotine.
"I was late," he begins, "for debate training because Harry wouldn't shut the fuck up about the stupid student union campaigns which everyone is pretty fucking informed about anyway so there's no fucking need to read the whole fucking proposal, right? Right. So we ended the damn meeting at 4, when it was only supposed to be until three-thirty, and when I get to debate training everyone was partnered and prepping already and god. So I couldn't train because Lucas was partnered with someone else because well I don't fucking know, they thought I wasn't coming? Why the fuck would I not go to training? I couldn't fucking do anything about it so I had to stay and watch the damn debate, and Christ. And then football-" Xabi purses his lips. "I get tackled by Alvaro and now my ankle is sprained."
To Steven, it doesn't sound like a particularly crap day, as far as crap days go in Xabi Alonso's life. But the Steven's never heard Xabi curse so much in his life, so maybe it was.
Or maybe his ankle just hurt more than it looked. In any case, Steven is quiet. He knows Xabi's tired and burned out and pissed. Steven knows he has nothing consoling to say, so he doesn't.
"And Nagore broke up with me. Which makes no sense at all." Xabi drums his fingers on top of his book. "This is stupid."
Steven avoids Xabi's eyes and licks his lips. This is awkward. "Uh…?" he says feebly. Xabi casts him a sideways glance and re-opens his book. It effectively signals the end of their conversation. Steven lets out a soft sigh; no casualties this time. He does feel genuinely bad about Xabi, though. They're not best friends or whatever. They barely even talk when they're not in their room. But, Xabi's sort of like…an adopted brother from Spain, whilst all his other friends are legit brothers. Steven creases his eyebrow and tries to think of a way to make Xabi feel better.
He still has a couple of bottles of mixed drinks stashed away inside his trunk-leftovers from the last party he held. And he knows that Xabi has a pack of cigarettes hidden somewhere in the medicine cabinet.
Xabi still is a boy, after all. Subject to sin and whatnot. Steven mulls it over. It's a win-win situation, really. Xabi forgets about his problems (for the moment), and Steven gets to see him drunk! The only other time Steven ever saw Xabi drunk was in his sophomore year and he was as baked as a cake so he couldn't remember anything about it. Nothing could go wrong-not really, anyway.
Steven jumps off his bed and flips open his trunk. He hums an obscure tune as he tosses shirts and sundry school materials out of his trunk and into the already messy pile behind him. He finds the first bottle of Patron wrapped in his polo. He finds a shot glass with his tie wrapped around it. He finds another bottle, wrapped in one of his old papers. I do not remember doing this, he thinks to himself as he the paper-wrapped bottle aside. He finds a few more bottles, and by this time, Xabi had put down his book and began to watch him with keen interest.
"What on earth are you doing?" he asks, as Steven picks up a pile of rumpled clothes and dumps it unceremoniously back into his trunk. There are a line of drinks by Steven's bed. "I," Steven says with a little smile as he unscrews the cap off a bottle of rum, "am merely showing my appreciation for you, Xabi, the best roommate ever, by throwing you a little party." He pours the amber liquid into a shot glass, and hands it to Xabi. "Now, you must forgive me for being a bit short on other…party favors, but as you may well deduce, this was all very impromptu." He pours himself a glass and raises it to Xabi.
"To our last year of hell." Xabi arches an eyebrow at him, but clinks their glasses together anyway.
*
Xabi is very, very, very drunk. He has never been this drunk ever, not even when he did three continuous beer bongs and passed out on the floor. He's so drunk he's beyond passing out.
He and Steven long ago (around 10) decided that cups were useless and bottles were the best things on earth, well. Next to what was in the bottles, anyway.
Xabi's lying on the cool white tile of the bathroom, watching the smoke from his cigarette swirl around with the steam coming from the shower. No one's in the shower. Xabi giggles. He wonders why the shower's on.
Steven bursts into the bathroom holding a bottle of tequila. He's swaying slightly. Or maybe Xabi's swaying. Or maybe the world is swaying, Xabi thinks, taking a final drag off his cigarette and flicking it into the half-full bathtub.
"That is not at all possibly safe." Steven says before taking a swig of tequila. "This is the best thing ever."
Xabi laughs. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Neither does your face!"
Xabi laughs, again. He gets up unsteadily (and with the help of the sink) and wobbles back into their room. Steven's standing in front of his bed. Xabi feels a huge urge to tackle him, so he does.
Steven says something between "fuck!" and "jesus!" Xabi laughs into Steven's chest. Steven wriggles underneath him. "You are heavy," he says.
"I am not!" Xabi says indignantly.
Steven groans.
Xabi knows he's too close because he can see a line of tequila that starts on Steven's collarbone and ends on his bottom lip.
He wants to lick it, so he does.
*
Xabi wakes up because the sunlight shines directly on his eyelids. His head is aching. It's as if his brain wants to escape from his skull. He squeezes his eyes closed.
Then he notices that his hand is under Steven's shirt. He tries not to scream (like a girl). Instead, he scrambles off Steven's bed and into his own. During the entire process, he feels as if his brain is being sloshed around in a snow cone. Oh god, he thinks, kill me.
Steven wakes up a few minutes later. Xabi can hear him. Steven groans.
Xabi tries not to twitch. There cannot possibly be a mature way to deal with this kind of situation. He wants to bury his head in a pot of sand.
He hears Steven get up and walk to the bathroom. "Fucking aspirin," Steven says to no one.
He soon hears Steven walk out of the room. Xabi sits up slowly, all the while clutching his head. He walks into the bathroom to see if a shower could help the throbbing.
There is a raft of cigarette butts floating around the bathtub.
What the fuck.
**
Xabi's tried his very best to be optimistic about the whole being shipped off to boarding school thing. Nothing bad could go wrong-not really, anyway. His English was above average, even if he still had an accent. And it was just four years, right? He could live without having to fight over things with his two brothers.
Mikel had gone to the Academy too, and he turned out perfectly fine.
Just four years, he thinks to himself as he turns the brass knob of his dorm room.
Xabi's roommate likes football. Xabi knows this because a) there is a football on his bed, and b) his roommate has a Robbie Fowler poster up. Xabi relaxes with relief. At least there's one thing he and his roommate can get along about.
"Hi," Xabi says. He holds out his hand. His roommate takes it with a smile.
"Stevie Gerrard," he says.
"Xabi Alonso," Xabi says. The room isn't too bad. They have a bathroom (which his parents have to pay an extra €500 per semester for) and there's a decent amount of space between his bed and Stevie's. They each have respective desks (which look out on the quadrangle) and cabinets and Xabi's bed is just as soft as his bed at home.
"Play football?" Stevie asked.
"Yes," Xabi answers. He's unpacking his bags and systematically placing his uniforms in his cabinet.
"Plan on joining the team?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"My brother's part of the team," Stevie says, not at all trying to disguise the pride in his voice. "He's co-captain."
Xabi restrains himself from spitefully saying 'so what?'
They're quiet for a moment.
"Do people really call you Stevie?"
"Yeah. Real name's Steven, obviously. But no one calls me that."
"Can I call you that?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"I feel like it."
Steven scoffs.
"Sure, I guess."
*
Steven is secretly proud to have a roommate that's in the student council. Except. Xabi's become less amiable, and much, much more angry. And he's beginning to curse a lot, too. He spends a lot of nights reading books that don't need to be read, and because Xabi keeps the light on and listens to music Steven never ends up sleeping properly, either. Xabi becomes cranky and he snaps at Steven more often.
But only around Steven. When they're outside of the room, Steven always notices that no matter how dark the skin around Xabi's eyes are, Xabi's smile is still as bright, his voice not at all gruff.
Maybe acting was part of the job description.
Steven is behind Xabi in the cafeteria.
"All right, then?" Steven asks, playfully digging the empty tray against Xabi's back.
Xabi turns to him, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, why not."
They smile at each other for another second, and then Xabi turns to the Lunch Lady and asks for a cup of jell-o.
He and Xabi couldn't be any more different, in most people's eyes. Xabi was the smart, responsible, well-rounded boy, and Steven… Steven just played football.
Steven did have a bigger group of friends, though. That kind of thing matters (sometimes).
*
At the end of his junior year, Xabi was nominated for president of the student council.
Two weeks into his senior year, he, along with the other officers, were initiated. A week after that, he told his coach that he needed to be moved to the second team (or the reserve team, or the team that just trained all the time and never played a game ever) because his schedule was too demanding.
Xabi spends his nights shifting between reading proposals and current headlines. He stays up all the time that he's not at all fazed when Steven bursts into the room, deliriously drunk from the "party" Carra had in his room, a few doors down. Xabi is used to being no fun.
Sometimes he goes inside the bathroom and lets the shower run so that no one can smell the cigarette smoke because of all the steam. Sometimes he goes with Sami to watch the football team play against some other private school's team, but Sami knows that all Xabi really does is listen to the cheering and look at his phone. Xabi does look up, occasionally (when Steven's name is yelled out by the commentator).
**
"Xabi, you're no fun at all," Steven says to him when he comes back from eating lunch. It's three in the afternoon, and Xabi's head still throbs occasionally, but he's not that hungover anymore.
Xabi grunts from behind his laptop. He's only had half a burger to eat.
"Seriously. When was the last time you genuinely had fun?"
"I don't know, a few seconds ago when we weren't talking."
"You are lame like Everton is lame. Come on let's do something."
"Why don't you go play football with your friends or do whatever you guys do?"
"Because they're all studying and being lame like you."
"A wise decision, I should think, as exams begin two days from now."
Steven cuffs him on the side of his head.
"Spoken to Nagore yet?" He asks. Steven knows he's teetering on the edge of awkward inappropriateness, but he doesn't really care.
"No," Xabi says with an air of finality that he knows Steven always disregards.
"Have you eaten anything?"
"No."
"Let's eat."
"You just came from the cafeteria."
"So what? Food is the best cure for a hangover!"
"That cannot possibly be true. It's got to be something like a bloody Mary or more alcohol or something."
"Xabi. You're taking to the boy that spent half his high school life drunk. Come on; let's get you something to eat."
Xabi turns his laptop off with some reluctance, but follows Steven towards the cafeteria. It's relatively empty, and Steven makes Xabi take a seat as he takes a tray and begins to fill it up. Xabi tries to think of pressing issues, things he needs to write proposals and letters and read books for, but all he can think of is why his hand was under Steven's shirt and maybe it was all just an awkward drunken grope and-Xabi tells his mind to shut up.
Steven sets a tray with a piece of roast beef, mashed potatoes, a slice of cheesecake and a bottle of water on it.
"Bon appétit!" He grins.
Xabi eyes the food warily. He doesn't remember the last time he's had a full meal like this. He tells Steven this.
"I figured," Steven says. "All you eat is jell-o and sandwiches. Horrible diet you have, mate."
Xabi smirks and begins to eat his food.
Steven checks his phone occasionally, and Xabi tries his very best to not to think about what happened the night before, but he can't help it.
Maybe the reason Steven's being so nice to him is because he remembers what happened.
Xabi thinks he remembers what happened. He remembers taking shots with Steven, then deciding that drinking straight from the bottle was much more gratifying, he remembers lying on the bathroom floor, and he remembers tackling Steven... Xabi finishes eating and puts his tray on the mess pile. He and Steven walk back to the dorm in silence.
"Steven," Xabi starts. The pond is an odd shade of orange-pink because of the setting sun. "What happened last night?" he makes his voice light, and tries to speak nonchalantly.
Steven glances at him and checks his phone.
"You got blazing drunk, that's what," Steven says. He's grinning. Xabi scoffs.
"I know I got drunk. Did anything embarrassing happen?"
Steven avoids Xabi's eyes, but pretends not to. "No, nothing of that sort."
Xabi's fears are confirmed.
They reach the dorm without saying anything else about the previous night's shenanigans, and Xabi goes straight back to his laptop to avoid any more awkwardness.
*
It's Sunday night and Xabi feels very proud of himself. He finished studying for his Physics exam and editing his paper, and it was only ten. He smiles at his reflection as he begins to brush his teeth.
Steven shuffles into the bathroom, lips pressed in a thin line. "I cannot, for the life of me, understand this friction work shit." Xabi spits out the foam in his mouth.
"I'll explain it to you in a bit."
They sit beside each other on Steven's bed. Their knees and their arms are touching.
This is not awkward. This is not awkward at all. Xabi chants to himself. I am being a good person and I am helping Steven understand Friction.
"Fuck this," Steven groans. He rests his head on his book. Xabi chuckles and pats him on the back.
"You're doing all right. Come on, I want to sleep before twelve please."
"Oh thanks. No pressure at all." Xabi ruffles Steven's hair and they begin to do problem sets again.
Xabi yawns and rests his head on Steven's shoulder. "Have you considered just winging it?" he asks with his eyes closed.
Steven rubs his eye. "I guess so." He yawns. "You can sleep now, if you like."
"Do you get everything?" Xabi doesn't move.
"Maybe?"
Xabi smiles. "Physics is after lunch, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'll re-explain everything tomorrow."
"Okay."
Xabi sits up and yawns again.
"Thanks, Xabi." Steven says.
"No problem," Xabi answers as he collapses on his bed.
*
Xabi walks in his dorm room 20 minutes after the start of lunch break. Steven's already there, asleep on Xabi's bed using Xabi's physics book as a pillow. Xabi smiles to himself.
"Steven," Xabi says, gently shaking his roommate awake.
Steven cracks open an eye and looks at him. "Already?" he asks, voice raspy.
"Have you had anything to eat?"
"No. But it doesn't matter. Need to learn."
They discuss friction and work again, and Xabi stops talking when he hears Steven's stomach grumble.
"Attractive," he says with a smirk.
"I'm sorry my stomach isn't made of iron like yours!" Xabi laughs.
"Get something to eat, for god's sake. I'll see you in class."
"I'm not ready for failure," Steven says morosely.
"You will not fail, youngling. The force will be with you."
Steven laughs. "You are such a nerd."
*
Xabi decides to skip football training. He'll say it's because of his ankle, but it's not really bothering him anymore. He learned to become numb to the pain early on. Steven's not back from football training and Xabi's secretly relieved; he sets his laptop on his desk and begins to type his History paper.
Xabi stands up to stretch as Steven comes in. And then-
He's lying face-down on his bed and Steven is lying down on top of him.
"What the hell-"
Steven laughs and turns Xabi's body to face him.
"Consider this payback." Steven shoves a piece of chocolate into Xabi's mouth.
It tastes like it has alcohol in it. Xabi relishes the way the chocolate explodes inside his mouth.
"Wow, orgasm face?" Steven says, chuckling.
"Is this your way of showing gratitude? Tackling me and force-feeding me delicious food? Is this some newfangled means of torture? Are you fattening me before you eat me?"
Steven's eyes widen. "Sometimes you talk too much. Have another piece."
Xabi chews on it silently.
"The chocolates are thank you and the tackle is fuck you. It was all just a coincidence that I decided to say both things at once, I think."
"I think," Xabi says, licking his lips "that you just wanted to thank me and you just have a natural tendency towards violence."
"I have a natural tendency towards violence? I'm not the one who randomly tackles someone while under the influence! It just goes to show how your subconscious works."
Steven pops a chocolate in his mouth.
"Please sir, may I have another?" Xabi tries his best to sound like Oliver Twist and fails horribly.
Steven bursts out laughing. "Were you supposed to be Oliver Twist?"
"Shut up and give me chocolate, please. It's the only reason I'm allowing you to sit on my stomach."
"Oh I'm sorry, am I heavy?"
"Quite."
Steven rolls off him and leans against the wall. Xabi sits up.
"Where did you get these, anyway?" Xabi asks, taking one from the pack.
"That, my friend, is a trade secret. Just be happy I have them, hey?"
Xabi nods and continues to chew.
Steven looks at him, a small smile on his lips.
"What?" Xabi asks, licking his fingers.
"I never knew you liked chocolate," Steven says.
"Learn something new every day, don't you?"
Steven laughs.
Xabi knows he's too close because he can see a little bit of chocolate on Steven's lip.
He wants to kiss Steven, for no reason at all, other than wanting to.
Steven beats him to it.
His lips are soft and Xabi doesn't know why it's so shocking to him. Steven tastes like chocolate and grass, and he gently pushes Xabi down on the bed and Xabi obeys and-
Xabi's never felt like this before, and after four years of knowing Steven (Stevie) he knows that Steven's never felt like this before, either.
Steven's hands wander under Xabi's polo, and Xabi's hands pull on Steven's hair.
They pull away after a few moments, and they avoid each other's eyes. Xabi puts a piece of chocolate in his mouth and looks out the window.
Steven snorts. "Only you could make something like this awkward."
Xabi turns to him. "Fuck you."
"I bet you'd like that."
Xabi pulls Steven close and smashes their lips together. "You," Xabi says between kisses, "are a giant ass."
Steven laughs and kisses Xabi again. "You are still an awkward Spanish boy." Xabi pinches Steven's arm in response. Steven slowly begins to unbutton Xabi's polo, and Xabi pulls off Steven's shirt.
"You smell like the football field."
"Do you think insulting me makes you more attractive, Xabi?"
Xabi laughs. "I'm sorry?" He leans forward and kisses Steven. Xabi's hands touch all the muscles on Steven's back. He realizes that he likes the way Steven's mouth fits with his. Xabi's pretty sure mouths aren't meant to fit like that, but somehow, kissing Steven makes him lose all rational thought.
Steven's hand touches the top button on Xabi's trousers. "Is this...?"
"Yes," Xabi says quietly.
*
Xabi touches Steven's spine with undisguised wonder. This is crazy, he thinks. Absolutely crazy.
He's never thought anything could be so crazy in his life. His fingers touch the little bumps on Steven's back. Steven yawns and stretches, and Xabi closes his eyes and breathes out. He doesn't know how to feel; awkward and relieved just don't seem to cut it.
Steven turns to face Xabi, and he touches their foreheads together. Xabi closes his eyes.
"That was…" Steven starts. Xabi pulls Steven closer and presses their lips together. Xabi can feel Steven smile.
There are little patches of sunlight that heat up different parts of Xabi's arm, and it's all very pleasant, lying down in a small bed while being heated up by the early morning sun. Steven kisses him again.
"I should have gotten you drunk the first time we met, if I knew you'd be that good at…things," Steven says, chuckling.
Xabi laughs. "Fuck you."
They're silent for a while, relaxed and still heady from their new discoveries. And then Xabi's alarm clock rings and it's time to get ready for breakfast.