I see Sam's town
Title: Collision Course (3/13)
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger, Harry Kewell/?
Characters: The entire Liverpool squad!
Rating: R, to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. This is all fiction, so don’t sue me.
A/N: University AU | Part 1 | Part 2
A game of you.
Fernando knew he was going to face a lot of harassment when he moved to a new country, transferred to a new school and worse, tried out for a new football team. Football players, after all, were dicks.
And the worst of them all was Daniel Agger.
Fernando rubbed the sore spot on his calf. The Dane loomed above him. “Well, aren’t you getting up?” He sneered. Fernando sighed and gingerly made it to his feet.
“Made of glass?” Dan asked, smirk on his face.
Fernando ignored him and took the ball all the way out of the box. All around him, strikers and defenders were paired up and running drills in their first training in the school team.
“One more try,” Fernando said.
Dan smiled and got ready to mark the Spaniard, feet apart, knees bent, eyes trained determinedly on Fernando’s every movement.
Fernando gave the ball a solid kick to get it moving and ran as quick as he could-pace was, after all, his best asset. It worked against Carra and Sami and Alvaro and Riise during tryouts. Too bad Daniel wasn’t there because he was faster than all of them combined.
He felt a shoulder against him, and the next thing Fernando knew, Daniel was right on his heels. Eyes widening, he tried to shift away, dribble or feint, but in a split-second Daniel had thrown himself into an inch-perfect tackle, sending Fernando flying to the ground with a heavy thud.
Fernando let his head drop to the grass, looking up at the sky, trying to catch his breath. His leg throbbed painfully. He glanced at Daniel, impatiently tapping his foot, “Drills aren’t over, Torres.”
Fernando glared. The Dane didn’t even extend a hand to help him up-the universal sign of well-meaning defending. ‘But of course, Daniel isn’t well-meaning,’ Fernando thought wryly to himself as he stood up again, keeping a straight face, refusing to show Dan he was getting affected.
He took the ball again and moved outside the penalty box, but this time, Daniel walked with him, pressing to his side, muttering to his ear, “That’s it? This is the new striker everyone’s talking about?”
Fernando balled his hands into fists but kept on walking. Daniel persisted, taunting, “Show me what you’ve got,” he snickered and continued with much disdain, “El Niño.”
Fernando gritted his teeth and something sparked inside him. He whirled around abruptly, and pressed back against Daniel, foreheads butting, noses touching and eyes smouldering with anger. But his voice was cold, calm.
“Best of three, Agger.”
Daniel didn’t flinch nor waver-even if he was acutely aware of Fernando’s tight grip on the side of his jersey, the body heat emanating from the striker up close. He just smirked, “Bring it.”
The Spaniard was the first to move away. He walked backwards, not once breaking eye contact with Dan. He dropped the ball on the ground casually. Dan smiled and Fernando smiled back. Then, he took a step back, and before Daniel could react, he took a running start before giving the ball a strong kick. Daniel’s head could only whip around to follow the trajectory of the ball, driving straight into the net.
“Goal,” Fernando smiled sweetly at the defender.
“Lucky break,” Dan shrugged. “If Pepe was in goal, he would have easily parried that away.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. He took another stray football and it was all the same again. Daniel tried to run to him and intercept the ball but it was futile. The ball flew into the air rapidly: it went right-too far right-but it bent in the air and dropped on cue into the top corner of the goal.
“Did I tell you I have a pretty mean curling shot too?” Fernando asked innocently.
Daniel’s cheeks flushed. More and more people were now finishing their drills and sitting on the sidelines, watching them.
“Who cares about long-range shots?” Daniel countered. “Bring your game to me. One on one.”
If Fernando was uncertain, he didn’t show it. He just bent over to pull up his socks casually before positioning the ball at his feet. Slowly, he kicked it, and walked forward, the ball moving idly at his feet. Daniel’s eyes were trained on him. Fernando came into an easy jog and Daniel leaped at the chance. He lunged forward and bore down on Fernando, but the Spaniard suddenly burst into a run with speed-no, acceleration-Daniel never saw before.
Fernando broke away a few meters, but Dan quickly scampered after him, lungs burning and legs almost giving out, but he pressed on. A few yards into the box, and Fernando felt a heavy force bludgeoning to his side, trying to push him off the ball.
Grunting, the Spaniard momentarily took his eyes off the ball and used his weight to push back. Daniel was running too fast to be balanced and when Fernando threw him off with surprising force, his feet lost all coordination, and he skidded to the ground.
Daniel didn’t to open his eyes to know how the run ended. There were some scattered whooping and clapping from the sidelines, and he immediately knew, Fernando won. When he finally opened his eyes, Fernando was standing above him, extending one hand to help him up. The defender reluctantly took it.
“Well, how do you like me now?” Fernando taunted, and his lips curved into a smirk that could have reminded Daniel of his very own.
*
“Xabi, I don’t get it!” Stevie cried out from his desk, ripping out a sheet in his notebook in frustration and crumpling it angrily in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Xabi stopped reading his book and looked up from his position on the floor of Stevie’s room.
Stevie read the question from their assigned problem set. “Why can’t inflation and employment co-exist? Illustrate graphically.”
“It’s explained in the textbook, Stevie.”
“But the chapter’s so long and-”
“Even the graphs are there-”
“There are a lot of graphs here-”
Xabi continued thoughtfully, “Actually, the problem set this week is actually fairly easy.”
“Xabi!” Stevie whimpered helplessly, slumping on his seat.
Xabi sighed. “When people are fully employed, what does that mean?”
Stevie blinked. “Everyone has jobs?”
Xabi prodded, “Therefore?”
Stevie’s face was blank. “Therefore... there won’t be any lazy-ass fuckers on the street?”
Xabi rolled his eyes. “Therefore, everyone will have wages.”
“That’s what I said!”
Xabi gave him a look. Stevie grinned sheepishly, “Okay, so everyone has wages. What does that have to do with inflation?”
“When everyone has wages, what will happen?” Xabi encouraged.
Stevie ran his hands in his hair in frustration. “Good grief, Xabi, don’t make me fill in the blanks!”
Xabi explained slowly, “When everyone has wages, they have more ability to buy goods and services, increasing demand and pushing up prices!”
“...So?”
“That’s what inflation is?”
“Oh.” Stevie scratched his head with the tip of his pen. “Could you repeat that?”
Xabi groaned loudly, “Stevie!”
Stevie just blinked and smiled innocently. Xabi sighed and handed over his problem set in defeat. Stevie gave a big whoop of triumph.
“At least get some numbers wrong,” Xabi muttered.
“I always do!” It was Stevie’s turn to be condescending now. “Xabi, I’m a master at this.”
*
“You want some help with that?”
Fernando looked up for a moment and stopped dabbing ice on his bruises. Daniel entered the locker room, fresh from his shower, hair still wet and clothes neatly pressed. Fernando shrugged, “If you want to.”
Daniel gave him a slight nod then sat down on the bench next to him. They glanced at each other reluctantly.
“Come closer,” Dan motioned. Fernando hesitated, suddenly feeling gross. They had just finished a gruelling three-hour training session-Rafa was eager to get them all back into shape before the season started-and he collapsed on the bench as soon as he could. Needless to say, he was unshowered: his hair was stringy and clumping and his clothes were muddy and smelled of sweat.
Dan sighed impatiently, “Jesus, Torres,” then he moved closer to Fernando instead.
The Dane collected a couple of ice cubes from the bowl lying on the floor. Holding it gingerly by his fingertips, he dabbed the ice cube on a violently purple bruise on the Spaniard’s ankle. He sensed Fernando flinched at the cold underneath his touch.
Dan smirked. “Did I do this to you?”
Fernando felt his cheeks burn hotly. “Most of them, yeah,” he answered, pointing to a few gashes on his legs. “These others are from Javier. He was having an off-day today and he kept mistiming his tackles.”
Daniel nodded slowly, then placed the ice cube on a bruise on the back of Fernando’s knee-the Spaniard shuddered. Fernando tried to swallow the lump on his throat, feeling the cooling sensation play along the sensitive skin of his legs, the ice melting and dripping cold water down his thighs.
“Well,” Dan shrugged, running the ice cube in little circles over the bruise, “Sorry?”
“No worries,” Fernando smiled, suppressing the emotions in his voice. “I like it rough.”
*
Fernando yawned and looked around at the full auditorium. The school had flown in an international speaker to talk about the global subprime crisis and the afternoon classes were called off so that everyone could attend the lecture. Too bad it was boring as hell.
“Wait, what is he saying?” Alvaro looked over Fernando’s shoulder to read the notes he had typed on his laptop. “We’re all suffering a recession because people suddenly wanted to buy houses in America??”
Fernando rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Something like that. And then they didn’t pay back their debt or something.”
“Fucking hell,” Alvaro frowned and scribbled a few haphazard lines in his notebook. “What if Mr Hicks gave us an exam or a paper about this talk?”
Fernando’s jaw dropped, “Shit, you think he would?”
Alvaro gave him a wary look, “Yes. You know how big of a dick he is.”
Fernando ran his hands through his long hair in frustration, “Dammit, I keep failing his class.”
“Hey, I haven’t understood anything after the lecture on supply and demand. I think I’m worse off than you,” Alvaro shook his head.
Fernando sighed and gave up, connecting to the school wi-fi to while the hours away. Alvaro looked on jealously, “I should have brought my laptop too.” The dark-haired Spaniard slapped close his notepad and dropped his head on his hands instead. “Wake me up when this is done,” he told the striker.
Fernando nodded absently, checking his email and only partially listening to the speaker drone on. Dozens of students had already gotten ahead of him and were online by the time he logged on to his messenger.
An instant message popped up on his screen.
D. Agger: Tsk, tsk. Somebody’s not paying attention to the lecture.
Fernando smiled in spite of himself and hastily typed.
F. Torres: Hello, Kettle. I’d like you to meet Pot.
D. Agger: Don’t get smart with me.
D. Agger: And give Alvaro a good shove. I think he’s starting to drool on the desk already.
Fernando’s forehead furrowed and he looked around, wondering where Daniel could be seated if he could see Alvaro.
F. Torres: Where are you?
D. Agger: You can’t find me?
D. Agger: I’m watching you.
Fernando tensed involuntarily.
F. Torres: Do you intend to sound like a pervert all the time?
D. Agger: Yes.
D. Agger: Do you like being watched?
Fernando shifted uncomfortably. Damn this man. He could imagine Dan now-wherever he was-smirking in that arrogant way, like he did all the time. He enjoyed making Fernando feel uneasy.
D. Agger: Yeah, Fernando, squirm like that.
Fernando felt his cheeks burn a bright red. Was it just him or was it getting hot in this auditorium?
D. Agger: You seem edgy.
D. Agger: Loosen your tie.
F. Torres: You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
D. Agger: Yeah.
D. Agger: Take off your blazer too, while you’re at it.
Fernando swallowed. This was so juvenile. So immature. But it sent the right sensations churning in his gut.
F. Torres: Fuck you, Daniel.
D. Agger: Cybersex already? Fast. I didn’t think you had it in you.
“Damn it,” Fernando muttered to himself, hurriedly logging off before another lewd message came in. His fingers shook as they flew over the mouse and the keyboard. He tried to flood his mind with the jargon the lecturer was spouting off, but when he shut his eyes, Daniel’s words kept reverberating in his head.
And then he kept thinking about that time Daniel helped him in the locker room, ice-cold fingers and heated palms, running down his legs, massaging his strained calves and gently tracing his tattoo. He wondered what it would have been like if Daniel was jerkier than usual and had gone further, teasingly darting underneath the flimsy fabric of Fernando’s training shorts. Fernando squirmed in his seat again, his trousers feeling tight as he imagined the warmth of Daniel’s hands stroking at the skin of his thighs.
“Fucking hell,” Fernando cursed, trying to rein in his excitement, but he was too far gone. He stood up, hastily trying to climb over the outstretched legs of the students in his row.
“Sir, may I go to the bathroom, please?” Fernando asked Mr Hicks, who was patrolling the door. The American gave him a suspicious look, and Fernando bounced on his toes impatiently, needing to get out badly. Mr Hicks gave him a nod and a warning, “Be quick, boy.”
Fernando nodded and hurriedly pushed open the auditorium door and striding towards the bathroom on the far end of the corridor. That would be quieter and more private. Or so he thought.
“Shit,” Fernando blurted out loud, finding another person in the bathroom.
“Fernando,” The stranger greeted with surprise as he turned around.
“Harry, hi!” Fernando blabbered, “Sorry, I was just shocked to find you here.”
“Oh, I’m just trying to waste as much time as possible before my professor realizes I’ve been gone for too long.”
Fernando gave him a tight, tense grin.
“...What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked suspiciously. Fernando hadn’t even made a move to go to the urinals or the cubicles.
“What? Nothing, I’m just... Nothing,” Fernando waved his hand dismissively, hoping it would be enough to get Harry to leave him in peace.
No such luck. Harry took a step closer, eyes squinted suspiciously. “I know that look,” Harry said, taking in the slight sheen of sweat covering Fernando’s face, even if the auditorium was freezing air-conditioning.
Fernando’s mouth opened then closed, coming up with nothing to say.
“Are you horny?” Harry demanded.
Fernando cursed under his breath struggling to look for a good answer. But the stirring in his groin was too pressing, that the only thing he could think of was how Harry was the best person to catch him in this predicament.
“Fernando,” a sly smile spread over Harry’s lips.
But before he could complete what he was supposed to say, Fernando had lunged forward and captured Harry’s mouth into a deep, searing kiss. The Australian was taken aback, but he didn’t protest. In fact, he eagerly kissed back after he realized what was happening.
“Harry,” Fernando murmured, voice strained, and Harry cupped his cheeks with both hands, and plunged deeper, thrusting his tongue inside Fernando’s mouth. The Spaniard groaned, letting Harry take the lead. He slowly began to realize why the Australian has been able to easily bang anyone bang-worthy in school.
“Oh, god, Fernando,” Harry panted when they pulled away to catch their breath. “Finally.”
“This is a one-off thing,” Fernando struggled to keep his voice steady. His eyes rolled to the back of his head upon sensing a hot mouth clamp onto his pulse and suck hungrily.
“Do I look like I care?” Harry murmured against Fernando’s skin, making him shiver at the fluttering sensation.
“Harry, someone might see us,” the Spaniard pulled away reluctantly, his eyes still dark and lust-hazy.
“Everyone’s in the auditorium,” Harry said. “Besides, nobody uses this bathroom.”
Fernando bit his lip, still sceptical. Harry grinned, “I have an idea.” He tugged Fernando’s school tie. Fernando followed obediently, and the next thing he knew, Harry gripped his sides and spun him around.
“Wha-” Fernando yelped, his back thudding against the bathroom door.
“That way, no one can walk in on us,” Harry smirked, dipping his head to kiss Fernando again. The Spaniard relented, kissing back just as fervently. Harry took that as a sign of permission, bravely running his hands under Fernando’s blazer and greedily tracing the Spaniard’s abdomen through his shirt. Fernando moaned and pushed deeper into Harry’s exploring touch.
Needing no more encouragement, Harry teasingly untucked Fernando’s shirt and worked at his belt. Fernando’s eyes flew open.
“Harry-” He struggled to think straight and swat his roommate’s hands away from his waist, “Wait, maybe we should-”
“Wow, you’re really not putting out easily, are you?” Harry teased, ignoring Fernando’s protests and finally unbuckled the Spaniard’s belt.
“Harry-” Fernando tried again, but whatever he was about to say died in his lips as he suddenly gasped for air at the light friction of Harry rubbing his crotch against his.
“Fernando, I’m just helping you out,” Harry stopped his movement and gently tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Fernando’s ear. “But if you wannna walk around with a hard-on all day, then just say the word.”
Fernando leaned his head back against the door and tried to get air into his lungs, suddenly missing the feeling of Harry pressed against his arousal.
“Damn it,” he cursed. He checked his watch, he had been gone for too long now and Mr Hicks might start looking for him any moment now. Fernando gritted his teeth, “How quick can you be?”
Harry rolled his hips against Fernando’s again, making the Spaniard groan needily. Harry grinned smugly, “Oh, babe. You’d be surprised.”
*
Xabi threw his shinpads into his locker violently. They had lost today’s five-against-five scrimmage in training-and they didn’t just lose. They got heavily thrashed. The other team had Fernando and he scored a hat-trick against them.
But the real reason why Xabi was pissed wasn’t really because of the defeat. It was because of that.
Stevie and Masch strode into the locker room, still talking animatedly and celebrating their victory.
Xabi tried to listen to Rafa’s post-training reminders, but all he could focus on was hearing his boyfriend and his rival review every play they had succeeded in employing during game. Stevie beamed like the proud captain he was, giving Javier a hearty slap on the back before heading over to approach Xabi by his locker.
“Great run today, eh?” Stevie greeted breathlessly, more out of excitement than fatigue. “God, I can’t wait until the season starts. Babel is lightning-quick and Fernando’s been real class! And man, have you seen Masch? He’s been immense since he got in! That tackle he made on Dirk the other day was massive-”
Xabi gritted his teeth and slammed his locker door loudly.
Stevie stopped, surprised. “Is something wrong?”
The Spaniard glared at him and shook his head. “I’m taking a shower,” Xabi said coolly.
“Xab, wait,” Stevie called after him. Xabi tried to take larger strides, but it wasn’t long before he felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder.
“What?” Xabi snapped impatiently.
“Let’s talk about this outside,” Stevie said steely, looking around and finding the team trying hard to look like they weren’t eavesdropping.
Xabi sighed and contemplated the option of walking away, but sometimes he was too mature for his own good. He followed his captain outside to the tunnel.
“What’s wrong?” Stevie asked, the arrogance and strictness of the captain gone. Now it was just gentleness and concern.
“You do realize that Rafa’s been pairing you up with Masch during warm-up games, right?” Xabi demanded.
“Xabi, it’s just training-”
“No, it’s not just training!” Xabi cut off. “Obviously, he’s doing this to see how your partnership will work with his strategies. And by the way things are going, it looks like he likes how things are playing out.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Stevie tried to comfort the Spaniard. “I’m sure Rafa’s just experimenting right now to find the best formation for the season.”
“Yes, and he’s going to keep the 4-4-2 system, Stevie,” Xabi insisted.
“And he’s going to pick you, Xab,” Stevie replied. “You know you’re Rafa’s favourite. He tells you all the tactics he doesn’t even bother sharing to me! You’re his on-field general.”
“Until Mascherano came along,” Xabi pointed out.
“Masch is great, but he’s been here a month,” Stevie rebutted. “You’re going to get your starts over him!”
“Just a second ago you were full of praises for him,” the Spaniard accused.
Stevie sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Masch is immense. For a new player. But you and your experience and maturity, you can dictate the pace of the game. That’s why Rafa’s easily going to select you over Masch.”
Xabi crossed his arms over his chest and asked levelly. “If you had to choose who to play with, who would it be?”
Stevie’s jaw dropped, “Xabi, you know it’s the manager’s decision-”
“And say the manager asks his captain?” Xabi frowned, not liking Stevie’s hesitation. “Who would you choose?”
Stevie sighed. “Of course I’d choose you, Xabi.”
Xabi didn’t look convinced.
“Look, to prove my point,” Stevie tried again, “The school paper is publishing a season preview and they’ve been nagging me for an interview with anyone in the team. You should do it.”
Xabi scowled, “Stevie, are you only doing this to make me feel better?”
“Xabi, as your captain and as your boyfriend, I’m telling you to go do it.”
Xabi sighed and the frown on his face eased. “I suppose I could.”
“Good.” Stevie asked carefully. He was never good at words, “Are you feeling better now?”
Xabi allowed himself a small smile and nodded, “Thanks, Stevie.”
Stevie smiled in return, looking relieved. He checked the tunnel carefully to make sure no one was approaching, before pressing a kiss against Xabi’s temple. When he pulled away, Xabi was looking considerably more light-hearted.
“Now come on inside, Alonso. The others will be curious about what’s happened to us.”
Xabi thought, “We could stay out here a little while longer. Make them debate about whether we’re breaking up or making out.”
Stevie laughed, “Good one.” He dropped to the floor and stretched out his aching legs, Xabi following suit a few seconds later.
*
Xabi softly knocked on the door of the journalism room. A mousy looking girl answered and gave him a questioning look. It wasn’t every day the jocks strayed off to this side of the campus.
“Hi, I’m here for the interview?” Xabi asked unsurely.
The girl gave him a once-over and opened the door wider. “Harry, your interviewee’s here!”
Xabi paused on his way in the office. “Harry??”
Harry stood up from his desk, sleeves rolled up haphazardly, pencil behind his ear. “Xabi!” The Australian’s face broke into that well-worn grin and he almost knocked over his staffmates coming up to Xabi. Harry threw his arms around Xabi and pulled him into a tight hug. He still smelled of sunshine and sex, Xabi thought to himself. And it wasn’t until they broke away that Xabi realized he was holding in his breath excitedly.
“God, Xabi, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Harry greeted happily.
Xabi smiled back stupidly, “I didn’t know you were working for the school paper!”
“Sports fucking editor,” Harry beamed proudly.
“Congratulations!” Xabi laughed and followed him to Harry’s desk.
“This is such great news,” Harry said, pulling up a chair for the Spaniard. “Stevie told me he’d be doing the interview, so I didn’t expect you would be here. If I had known, I’d have fixed up a bit, asked if we could do it over dinner...” Harry rambled nervously. Harry fucking Kewell, the biggest dicktease on campus, a puddle of goo when face to face with the school star student. It was embarrassing, really.
Xabi shook his head good-naturedly, “No, no, this is fine.”
“Let me just prepare my recorder, then let’s get started,” Harry said, hands suddenly uncoordinated as he clumsily sifted through his cluttered desk for the missing gadget.
“You know,” Xabi began softly. “You never did come back to the team.”
Harry froze halfway through pulling open a drawer. “Yeah, well,” he stammered, determinedly not looking at the Spaniard, “I was sidelined for a long time.”
“But?” Xabi prodded.
“And I can’t play if, half the time, I’m afraid of getting injured again,” Harry shrugged, but it was obviously a touchy subject.
“Well, we need wingers in the team, you know. And training has only just started recently. I’m sure you could catch up. Rafa loves you!”
Harry laughed drily, “I don’t think so.”
Xabi frowned. Harry explained more diplomatically, “Maybe I’m over it already, I don’t know. Besides, I’ve got the school paper now, and I like doing the journalist work here.”
Xabi nodded slowly, slightly disappointed, “Okay, then.”
“Why do you ask?” Harry questioned brightly, eager to change to a lighter topic. “Do you miss me already, Alonso?”
Xabi laughed and silently wished he wasn’t blushing as he answered, “The whole team does.”
“...Do you?” Harry nagged, eyebrows wiggling.
Xabi shoved him playfully. “Dammit, Kewell. Is this part of the interview already?”
“A-HA!” Harry waved the recorder in the air triumphantly, wedged in between a stack of papers and books.
Xabi found himself giggling, even if it was downright not funny. But he always loved hanging out with Harry-he was always so laid-back, so carefree. Something Xabi desperately needed most of the time.
“I have a proposal,” Harry’s voice sliced through his thoughts. “Let’s just get this interview out of the way, then let’s have coffee or something. We need to catch up.”
Xabi bit his lip reluctantly. “Stevie and I usually meet up together-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s always about Captain Steven Gerrard with you.”
Xabi’s jaw dropped, “Hey, that’s not true.”
The previously amicable atmosphere suddenly turned very tense, and it almost seemed like they were harking back to the same rift they had a year ago.
“Knock, knock,” a voice piped up.
The two both looked up, surprised, as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have.
“Harry, do you need-Oh, Xabi, hi!” Fernando waved at the midfielder, grinning but obviously confused at the situation he had had inadvertently walked in on.
“Uh, can you excuse me for a second? I just need to talk to Fernando in private,” Harry said, and Xabi could only look on in irritation as he walked out with the young striker.
*
“That was some crazy tension,” Fernando crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his roommate with narrowed eyes.
“Shhh,” Harry hissed, looking over to his desk. Xabi was only a few metres away.
“So something is up!”
“What? Nothing is up,” Harry refuted vehemently. He dropped his voice a notch, “Just... don’t mention this to Stevie.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. Harry pleaded, “Come on, Fernando, help me out here.”
The Spaniard sighed, “Fine, fine. As long as you don’t tell Xabi I let you jack me off in the toilets.”
“No problem,” Harry laughed, relieved. “Say, you never did tell me. Who got you so hot and bothered anyway?”
Fernando blushed. “No one.”
“Come on, I at least deserve to know who you were thinking of when I so gallantly gave you a handjob,” Harry snickered to himself.
“Fuck it,” Fernando burned a brighter pink. “It was Daniel Agger, okay?”
“Daniel Agger?” Harry demanded.
“Tall, Danish, angry?” Fernando asked, already fearing Harry’s response.
But the Australian just laughed and paused to think. “It could work.”
“What?” Fernando asked, horrified.
“I can imagine you guys having hot, angry sex,” Harry said, grinning widely. “I approve!”
*
“So, you’ve met Fernando,” Xabi greeted wryly, sitting atop Harry’s desk. Harry almost died at the nagging thoughts of kinky, office sex.
“Yeah,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We’re roommates in the dormitory.”
“Oh, really?” Xabi looked mildly surprised. “Roommates, eh? That must be... fun.”
“Of course it is,” Harry laughed slyly, knowing what Xabi was implying and letting the Spaniard think what he wanted.
“So, have you...?” Xabi trailed off and Harry just smiled a smile pregnant with meaning, but he said nothing else.
Xabi pouted, busying himself with letting his fingers trace the wood of Harry’s desk so he wouldn’t have to meet the Australian’s gaze head-on. When he looked up, Harry had already closed the distance between them, his hands resting on Xabi’s knees.
“Don’t worry, Alonso,” Harry said, his words soft and teasing, his breath blowing against the side of Xabi’s face, “Of course, you’re still my favourite Spaniard.”
Mika is dying from schoolwork. Please send your love. ;_;
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger, Harry Kewell/?
Characters: The entire Liverpool squad!
Rating: R, to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. This is all fiction, so don’t sue me.
A/N: University AU | Part 1 | Part 2
A game of you.
Fernando knew he was going to face a lot of harassment when he moved to a new country, transferred to a new school and worse, tried out for a new football team. Football players, after all, were dicks.
And the worst of them all was Daniel Agger.
Fernando rubbed the sore spot on his calf. The Dane loomed above him. “Well, aren’t you getting up?” He sneered. Fernando sighed and gingerly made it to his feet.
“Made of glass?” Dan asked, smirk on his face.
Fernando ignored him and took the ball all the way out of the box. All around him, strikers and defenders were paired up and running drills in their first training in the school team.
“One more try,” Fernando said.
Dan smiled and got ready to mark the Spaniard, feet apart, knees bent, eyes trained determinedly on Fernando’s every movement.
Fernando gave the ball a solid kick to get it moving and ran as quick as he could-pace was, after all, his best asset. It worked against Carra and Sami and Alvaro and Riise during tryouts. Too bad Daniel wasn’t there because he was faster than all of them combined.
He felt a shoulder against him, and the next thing Fernando knew, Daniel was right on his heels. Eyes widening, he tried to shift away, dribble or feint, but in a split-second Daniel had thrown himself into an inch-perfect tackle, sending Fernando flying to the ground with a heavy thud.
Fernando let his head drop to the grass, looking up at the sky, trying to catch his breath. His leg throbbed painfully. He glanced at Daniel, impatiently tapping his foot, “Drills aren’t over, Torres.”
Fernando glared. The Dane didn’t even extend a hand to help him up-the universal sign of well-meaning defending. ‘But of course, Daniel isn’t well-meaning,’ Fernando thought wryly to himself as he stood up again, keeping a straight face, refusing to show Dan he was getting affected.
He took the ball again and moved outside the penalty box, but this time, Daniel walked with him, pressing to his side, muttering to his ear, “That’s it? This is the new striker everyone’s talking about?”
Fernando balled his hands into fists but kept on walking. Daniel persisted, taunting, “Show me what you’ve got,” he snickered and continued with much disdain, “El Niño.”
Fernando gritted his teeth and something sparked inside him. He whirled around abruptly, and pressed back against Daniel, foreheads butting, noses touching and eyes smouldering with anger. But his voice was cold, calm.
“Best of three, Agger.”
Daniel didn’t flinch nor waver-even if he was acutely aware of Fernando’s tight grip on the side of his jersey, the body heat emanating from the striker up close. He just smirked, “Bring it.”
The Spaniard was the first to move away. He walked backwards, not once breaking eye contact with Dan. He dropped the ball on the ground casually. Dan smiled and Fernando smiled back. Then, he took a step back, and before Daniel could react, he took a running start before giving the ball a strong kick. Daniel’s head could only whip around to follow the trajectory of the ball, driving straight into the net.
“Goal,” Fernando smiled sweetly at the defender.
“Lucky break,” Dan shrugged. “If Pepe was in goal, he would have easily parried that away.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. He took another stray football and it was all the same again. Daniel tried to run to him and intercept the ball but it was futile. The ball flew into the air rapidly: it went right-too far right-but it bent in the air and dropped on cue into the top corner of the goal.
“Did I tell you I have a pretty mean curling shot too?” Fernando asked innocently.
Daniel’s cheeks flushed. More and more people were now finishing their drills and sitting on the sidelines, watching them.
“Who cares about long-range shots?” Daniel countered. “Bring your game to me. One on one.”
If Fernando was uncertain, he didn’t show it. He just bent over to pull up his socks casually before positioning the ball at his feet. Slowly, he kicked it, and walked forward, the ball moving idly at his feet. Daniel’s eyes were trained on him. Fernando came into an easy jog and Daniel leaped at the chance. He lunged forward and bore down on Fernando, but the Spaniard suddenly burst into a run with speed-no, acceleration-Daniel never saw before.
Fernando broke away a few meters, but Dan quickly scampered after him, lungs burning and legs almost giving out, but he pressed on. A few yards into the box, and Fernando felt a heavy force bludgeoning to his side, trying to push him off the ball.
Grunting, the Spaniard momentarily took his eyes off the ball and used his weight to push back. Daniel was running too fast to be balanced and when Fernando threw him off with surprising force, his feet lost all coordination, and he skidded to the ground.
Daniel didn’t to open his eyes to know how the run ended. There were some scattered whooping and clapping from the sidelines, and he immediately knew, Fernando won. When he finally opened his eyes, Fernando was standing above him, extending one hand to help him up. The defender reluctantly took it.
“Well, how do you like me now?” Fernando taunted, and his lips curved into a smirk that could have reminded Daniel of his very own.
*
“Xabi, I don’t get it!” Stevie cried out from his desk, ripping out a sheet in his notebook in frustration and crumpling it angrily in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Xabi stopped reading his book and looked up from his position on the floor of Stevie’s room.
Stevie read the question from their assigned problem set. “Why can’t inflation and employment co-exist? Illustrate graphically.”
“It’s explained in the textbook, Stevie.”
“But the chapter’s so long and-”
“Even the graphs are there-”
“There are a lot of graphs here-”
Xabi continued thoughtfully, “Actually, the problem set this week is actually fairly easy.”
“Xabi!” Stevie whimpered helplessly, slumping on his seat.
Xabi sighed. “When people are fully employed, what does that mean?”
Stevie blinked. “Everyone has jobs?”
Xabi prodded, “Therefore?”
Stevie’s face was blank. “Therefore... there won’t be any lazy-ass fuckers on the street?”
Xabi rolled his eyes. “Therefore, everyone will have wages.”
“That’s what I said!”
Xabi gave him a look. Stevie grinned sheepishly, “Okay, so everyone has wages. What does that have to do with inflation?”
“When everyone has wages, what will happen?” Xabi encouraged.
Stevie ran his hands in his hair in frustration. “Good grief, Xabi, don’t make me fill in the blanks!”
Xabi explained slowly, “When everyone has wages, they have more ability to buy goods and services, increasing demand and pushing up prices!”
“...So?”
“That’s what inflation is?”
“Oh.” Stevie scratched his head with the tip of his pen. “Could you repeat that?”
Xabi groaned loudly, “Stevie!”
Stevie just blinked and smiled innocently. Xabi sighed and handed over his problem set in defeat. Stevie gave a big whoop of triumph.
“At least get some numbers wrong,” Xabi muttered.
“I always do!” It was Stevie’s turn to be condescending now. “Xabi, I’m a master at this.”
*
“You want some help with that?”
Fernando looked up for a moment and stopped dabbing ice on his bruises. Daniel entered the locker room, fresh from his shower, hair still wet and clothes neatly pressed. Fernando shrugged, “If you want to.”
Daniel gave him a slight nod then sat down on the bench next to him. They glanced at each other reluctantly.
“Come closer,” Dan motioned. Fernando hesitated, suddenly feeling gross. They had just finished a gruelling three-hour training session-Rafa was eager to get them all back into shape before the season started-and he collapsed on the bench as soon as he could. Needless to say, he was unshowered: his hair was stringy and clumping and his clothes were muddy and smelled of sweat.
Dan sighed impatiently, “Jesus, Torres,” then he moved closer to Fernando instead.
The Dane collected a couple of ice cubes from the bowl lying on the floor. Holding it gingerly by his fingertips, he dabbed the ice cube on a violently purple bruise on the Spaniard’s ankle. He sensed Fernando flinched at the cold underneath his touch.
Dan smirked. “Did I do this to you?”
Fernando felt his cheeks burn hotly. “Most of them, yeah,” he answered, pointing to a few gashes on his legs. “These others are from Javier. He was having an off-day today and he kept mistiming his tackles.”
Daniel nodded slowly, then placed the ice cube on a bruise on the back of Fernando’s knee-the Spaniard shuddered. Fernando tried to swallow the lump on his throat, feeling the cooling sensation play along the sensitive skin of his legs, the ice melting and dripping cold water down his thighs.
“Well,” Dan shrugged, running the ice cube in little circles over the bruise, “Sorry?”
“No worries,” Fernando smiled, suppressing the emotions in his voice. “I like it rough.”
*
Fernando yawned and looked around at the full auditorium. The school had flown in an international speaker to talk about the global subprime crisis and the afternoon classes were called off so that everyone could attend the lecture. Too bad it was boring as hell.
“Wait, what is he saying?” Alvaro looked over Fernando’s shoulder to read the notes he had typed on his laptop. “We’re all suffering a recession because people suddenly wanted to buy houses in America??”
Fernando rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Something like that. And then they didn’t pay back their debt or something.”
“Fucking hell,” Alvaro frowned and scribbled a few haphazard lines in his notebook. “What if Mr Hicks gave us an exam or a paper about this talk?”
Fernando’s jaw dropped, “Shit, you think he would?”
Alvaro gave him a wary look, “Yes. You know how big of a dick he is.”
Fernando ran his hands through his long hair in frustration, “Dammit, I keep failing his class.”
“Hey, I haven’t understood anything after the lecture on supply and demand. I think I’m worse off than you,” Alvaro shook his head.
Fernando sighed and gave up, connecting to the school wi-fi to while the hours away. Alvaro looked on jealously, “I should have brought my laptop too.” The dark-haired Spaniard slapped close his notepad and dropped his head on his hands instead. “Wake me up when this is done,” he told the striker.
Fernando nodded absently, checking his email and only partially listening to the speaker drone on. Dozens of students had already gotten ahead of him and were online by the time he logged on to his messenger.
An instant message popped up on his screen.
D. Agger: Tsk, tsk. Somebody’s not paying attention to the lecture.
Fernando smiled in spite of himself and hastily typed.
F. Torres: Hello, Kettle. I’d like you to meet Pot.
D. Agger: Don’t get smart with me.
D. Agger: And give Alvaro a good shove. I think he’s starting to drool on the desk already.
Fernando’s forehead furrowed and he looked around, wondering where Daniel could be seated if he could see Alvaro.
F. Torres: Where are you?
D. Agger: You can’t find me?
D. Agger: I’m watching you.
Fernando tensed involuntarily.
F. Torres: Do you intend to sound like a pervert all the time?
D. Agger: Yes.
D. Agger: Do you like being watched?
Fernando shifted uncomfortably. Damn this man. He could imagine Dan now-wherever he was-smirking in that arrogant way, like he did all the time. He enjoyed making Fernando feel uneasy.
D. Agger: Yeah, Fernando, squirm like that.
Fernando felt his cheeks burn a bright red. Was it just him or was it getting hot in this auditorium?
D. Agger: You seem edgy.
D. Agger: Loosen your tie.
F. Torres: You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
D. Agger: Yeah.
D. Agger: Take off your blazer too, while you’re at it.
Fernando swallowed. This was so juvenile. So immature. But it sent the right sensations churning in his gut.
F. Torres: Fuck you, Daniel.
D. Agger: Cybersex already? Fast. I didn’t think you had it in you.
“Damn it,” Fernando muttered to himself, hurriedly logging off before another lewd message came in. His fingers shook as they flew over the mouse and the keyboard. He tried to flood his mind with the jargon the lecturer was spouting off, but when he shut his eyes, Daniel’s words kept reverberating in his head.
And then he kept thinking about that time Daniel helped him in the locker room, ice-cold fingers and heated palms, running down his legs, massaging his strained calves and gently tracing his tattoo. He wondered what it would have been like if Daniel was jerkier than usual and had gone further, teasingly darting underneath the flimsy fabric of Fernando’s training shorts. Fernando squirmed in his seat again, his trousers feeling tight as he imagined the warmth of Daniel’s hands stroking at the skin of his thighs.
“Fucking hell,” Fernando cursed, trying to rein in his excitement, but he was too far gone. He stood up, hastily trying to climb over the outstretched legs of the students in his row.
“Sir, may I go to the bathroom, please?” Fernando asked Mr Hicks, who was patrolling the door. The American gave him a suspicious look, and Fernando bounced on his toes impatiently, needing to get out badly. Mr Hicks gave him a nod and a warning, “Be quick, boy.”
Fernando nodded and hurriedly pushed open the auditorium door and striding towards the bathroom on the far end of the corridor. That would be quieter and more private. Or so he thought.
“Shit,” Fernando blurted out loud, finding another person in the bathroom.
“Fernando,” The stranger greeted with surprise as he turned around.
“Harry, hi!” Fernando blabbered, “Sorry, I was just shocked to find you here.”
“Oh, I’m just trying to waste as much time as possible before my professor realizes I’ve been gone for too long.”
Fernando gave him a tight, tense grin.
“...What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked suspiciously. Fernando hadn’t even made a move to go to the urinals or the cubicles.
“What? Nothing, I’m just... Nothing,” Fernando waved his hand dismissively, hoping it would be enough to get Harry to leave him in peace.
No such luck. Harry took a step closer, eyes squinted suspiciously. “I know that look,” Harry said, taking in the slight sheen of sweat covering Fernando’s face, even if the auditorium was freezing air-conditioning.
Fernando’s mouth opened then closed, coming up with nothing to say.
“Are you horny?” Harry demanded.
Fernando cursed under his breath struggling to look for a good answer. But the stirring in his groin was too pressing, that the only thing he could think of was how Harry was the best person to catch him in this predicament.
“Fernando,” a sly smile spread over Harry’s lips.
But before he could complete what he was supposed to say, Fernando had lunged forward and captured Harry’s mouth into a deep, searing kiss. The Australian was taken aback, but he didn’t protest. In fact, he eagerly kissed back after he realized what was happening.
“Harry,” Fernando murmured, voice strained, and Harry cupped his cheeks with both hands, and plunged deeper, thrusting his tongue inside Fernando’s mouth. The Spaniard groaned, letting Harry take the lead. He slowly began to realize why the Australian has been able to easily bang anyone bang-worthy in school.
“Oh, god, Fernando,” Harry panted when they pulled away to catch their breath. “Finally.”
“This is a one-off thing,” Fernando struggled to keep his voice steady. His eyes rolled to the back of his head upon sensing a hot mouth clamp onto his pulse and suck hungrily.
“Do I look like I care?” Harry murmured against Fernando’s skin, making him shiver at the fluttering sensation.
“Harry, someone might see us,” the Spaniard pulled away reluctantly, his eyes still dark and lust-hazy.
“Everyone’s in the auditorium,” Harry said. “Besides, nobody uses this bathroom.”
Fernando bit his lip, still sceptical. Harry grinned, “I have an idea.” He tugged Fernando’s school tie. Fernando followed obediently, and the next thing he knew, Harry gripped his sides and spun him around.
“Wha-” Fernando yelped, his back thudding against the bathroom door.
“That way, no one can walk in on us,” Harry smirked, dipping his head to kiss Fernando again. The Spaniard relented, kissing back just as fervently. Harry took that as a sign of permission, bravely running his hands under Fernando’s blazer and greedily tracing the Spaniard’s abdomen through his shirt. Fernando moaned and pushed deeper into Harry’s exploring touch.
Needing no more encouragement, Harry teasingly untucked Fernando’s shirt and worked at his belt. Fernando’s eyes flew open.
“Harry-” He struggled to think straight and swat his roommate’s hands away from his waist, “Wait, maybe we should-”
“Wow, you’re really not putting out easily, are you?” Harry teased, ignoring Fernando’s protests and finally unbuckled the Spaniard’s belt.
“Harry-” Fernando tried again, but whatever he was about to say died in his lips as he suddenly gasped for air at the light friction of Harry rubbing his crotch against his.
“Fernando, I’m just helping you out,” Harry stopped his movement and gently tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Fernando’s ear. “But if you wannna walk around with a hard-on all day, then just say the word.”
Fernando leaned his head back against the door and tried to get air into his lungs, suddenly missing the feeling of Harry pressed against his arousal.
“Damn it,” he cursed. He checked his watch, he had been gone for too long now and Mr Hicks might start looking for him any moment now. Fernando gritted his teeth, “How quick can you be?”
Harry rolled his hips against Fernando’s again, making the Spaniard groan needily. Harry grinned smugly, “Oh, babe. You’d be surprised.”
*
Xabi threw his shinpads into his locker violently. They had lost today’s five-against-five scrimmage in training-and they didn’t just lose. They got heavily thrashed. The other team had Fernando and he scored a hat-trick against them.
But the real reason why Xabi was pissed wasn’t really because of the defeat. It was because of that.
Stevie and Masch strode into the locker room, still talking animatedly and celebrating their victory.
Xabi tried to listen to Rafa’s post-training reminders, but all he could focus on was hearing his boyfriend and his rival review every play they had succeeded in employing during game. Stevie beamed like the proud captain he was, giving Javier a hearty slap on the back before heading over to approach Xabi by his locker.
“Great run today, eh?” Stevie greeted breathlessly, more out of excitement than fatigue. “God, I can’t wait until the season starts. Babel is lightning-quick and Fernando’s been real class! And man, have you seen Masch? He’s been immense since he got in! That tackle he made on Dirk the other day was massive-”
Xabi gritted his teeth and slammed his locker door loudly.
Stevie stopped, surprised. “Is something wrong?”
The Spaniard glared at him and shook his head. “I’m taking a shower,” Xabi said coolly.
“Xab, wait,” Stevie called after him. Xabi tried to take larger strides, but it wasn’t long before he felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder.
“What?” Xabi snapped impatiently.
“Let’s talk about this outside,” Stevie said steely, looking around and finding the team trying hard to look like they weren’t eavesdropping.
Xabi sighed and contemplated the option of walking away, but sometimes he was too mature for his own good. He followed his captain outside to the tunnel.
“What’s wrong?” Stevie asked, the arrogance and strictness of the captain gone. Now it was just gentleness and concern.
“You do realize that Rafa’s been pairing you up with Masch during warm-up games, right?” Xabi demanded.
“Xabi, it’s just training-”
“No, it’s not just training!” Xabi cut off. “Obviously, he’s doing this to see how your partnership will work with his strategies. And by the way things are going, it looks like he likes how things are playing out.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Stevie tried to comfort the Spaniard. “I’m sure Rafa’s just experimenting right now to find the best formation for the season.”
“Yes, and he’s going to keep the 4-4-2 system, Stevie,” Xabi insisted.
“And he’s going to pick you, Xab,” Stevie replied. “You know you’re Rafa’s favourite. He tells you all the tactics he doesn’t even bother sharing to me! You’re his on-field general.”
“Until Mascherano came along,” Xabi pointed out.
“Masch is great, but he’s been here a month,” Stevie rebutted. “You’re going to get your starts over him!”
“Just a second ago you were full of praises for him,” the Spaniard accused.
Stevie sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Masch is immense. For a new player. But you and your experience and maturity, you can dictate the pace of the game. That’s why Rafa’s easily going to select you over Masch.”
Xabi crossed his arms over his chest and asked levelly. “If you had to choose who to play with, who would it be?”
Stevie’s jaw dropped, “Xabi, you know it’s the manager’s decision-”
“And say the manager asks his captain?” Xabi frowned, not liking Stevie’s hesitation. “Who would you choose?”
Stevie sighed. “Of course I’d choose you, Xabi.”
Xabi didn’t look convinced.
“Look, to prove my point,” Stevie tried again, “The school paper is publishing a season preview and they’ve been nagging me for an interview with anyone in the team. You should do it.”
Xabi scowled, “Stevie, are you only doing this to make me feel better?”
“Xabi, as your captain and as your boyfriend, I’m telling you to go do it.”
Xabi sighed and the frown on his face eased. “I suppose I could.”
“Good.” Stevie asked carefully. He was never good at words, “Are you feeling better now?”
Xabi allowed himself a small smile and nodded, “Thanks, Stevie.”
Stevie smiled in return, looking relieved. He checked the tunnel carefully to make sure no one was approaching, before pressing a kiss against Xabi’s temple. When he pulled away, Xabi was looking considerably more light-hearted.
“Now come on inside, Alonso. The others will be curious about what’s happened to us.”
Xabi thought, “We could stay out here a little while longer. Make them debate about whether we’re breaking up or making out.”
Stevie laughed, “Good one.” He dropped to the floor and stretched out his aching legs, Xabi following suit a few seconds later.
*
Xabi softly knocked on the door of the journalism room. A mousy looking girl answered and gave him a questioning look. It wasn’t every day the jocks strayed off to this side of the campus.
“Hi, I’m here for the interview?” Xabi asked unsurely.
The girl gave him a once-over and opened the door wider. “Harry, your interviewee’s here!”
Xabi paused on his way in the office. “Harry??”
Harry stood up from his desk, sleeves rolled up haphazardly, pencil behind his ear. “Xabi!” The Australian’s face broke into that well-worn grin and he almost knocked over his staffmates coming up to Xabi. Harry threw his arms around Xabi and pulled him into a tight hug. He still smelled of sunshine and sex, Xabi thought to himself. And it wasn’t until they broke away that Xabi realized he was holding in his breath excitedly.
“God, Xabi, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Harry greeted happily.
Xabi smiled back stupidly, “I didn’t know you were working for the school paper!”
“Sports fucking editor,” Harry beamed proudly.
“Congratulations!” Xabi laughed and followed him to Harry’s desk.
“This is such great news,” Harry said, pulling up a chair for the Spaniard. “Stevie told me he’d be doing the interview, so I didn’t expect you would be here. If I had known, I’d have fixed up a bit, asked if we could do it over dinner...” Harry rambled nervously. Harry fucking Kewell, the biggest dicktease on campus, a puddle of goo when face to face with the school star student. It was embarrassing, really.
Xabi shook his head good-naturedly, “No, no, this is fine.”
“Let me just prepare my recorder, then let’s get started,” Harry said, hands suddenly uncoordinated as he clumsily sifted through his cluttered desk for the missing gadget.
“You know,” Xabi began softly. “You never did come back to the team.”
Harry froze halfway through pulling open a drawer. “Yeah, well,” he stammered, determinedly not looking at the Spaniard, “I was sidelined for a long time.”
“But?” Xabi prodded.
“And I can’t play if, half the time, I’m afraid of getting injured again,” Harry shrugged, but it was obviously a touchy subject.
“Well, we need wingers in the team, you know. And training has only just started recently. I’m sure you could catch up. Rafa loves you!”
Harry laughed drily, “I don’t think so.”
Xabi frowned. Harry explained more diplomatically, “Maybe I’m over it already, I don’t know. Besides, I’ve got the school paper now, and I like doing the journalist work here.”
Xabi nodded slowly, slightly disappointed, “Okay, then.”
“Why do you ask?” Harry questioned brightly, eager to change to a lighter topic. “Do you miss me already, Alonso?”
Xabi laughed and silently wished he wasn’t blushing as he answered, “The whole team does.”
“...Do you?” Harry nagged, eyebrows wiggling.
Xabi shoved him playfully. “Dammit, Kewell. Is this part of the interview already?”
“A-HA!” Harry waved the recorder in the air triumphantly, wedged in between a stack of papers and books.
Xabi found himself giggling, even if it was downright not funny. But he always loved hanging out with Harry-he was always so laid-back, so carefree. Something Xabi desperately needed most of the time.
“I have a proposal,” Harry’s voice sliced through his thoughts. “Let’s just get this interview out of the way, then let’s have coffee or something. We need to catch up.”
Xabi bit his lip reluctantly. “Stevie and I usually meet up together-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s always about Captain Steven Gerrard with you.”
Xabi’s jaw dropped, “Hey, that’s not true.”
The previously amicable atmosphere suddenly turned very tense, and it almost seemed like they were harking back to the same rift they had a year ago.
“Knock, knock,” a voice piped up.
The two both looked up, surprised, as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have.
“Harry, do you need-Oh, Xabi, hi!” Fernando waved at the midfielder, grinning but obviously confused at the situation he had had inadvertently walked in on.
“Uh, can you excuse me for a second? I just need to talk to Fernando in private,” Harry said, and Xabi could only look on in irritation as he walked out with the young striker.
*
“That was some crazy tension,” Fernando crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his roommate with narrowed eyes.
“Shhh,” Harry hissed, looking over to his desk. Xabi was only a few metres away.
“So something is up!”
“What? Nothing is up,” Harry refuted vehemently. He dropped his voice a notch, “Just... don’t mention this to Stevie.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. Harry pleaded, “Come on, Fernando, help me out here.”
The Spaniard sighed, “Fine, fine. As long as you don’t tell Xabi I let you jack me off in the toilets.”
“No problem,” Harry laughed, relieved. “Say, you never did tell me. Who got you so hot and bothered anyway?”
Fernando blushed. “No one.”
“Come on, I at least deserve to know who you were thinking of when I so gallantly gave you a handjob,” Harry snickered to himself.
“Fuck it,” Fernando burned a brighter pink. “It was Daniel Agger, okay?”
“Daniel Agger?” Harry demanded.
“Tall, Danish, angry?” Fernando asked, already fearing Harry’s response.
But the Australian just laughed and paused to think. “It could work.”
“What?” Fernando asked, horrified.
“I can imagine you guys having hot, angry sex,” Harry said, grinning widely. “I approve!”
*
“So, you’ve met Fernando,” Xabi greeted wryly, sitting atop Harry’s desk. Harry almost died at the nagging thoughts of kinky, office sex.
“Yeah,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We’re roommates in the dormitory.”
“Oh, really?” Xabi looked mildly surprised. “Roommates, eh? That must be... fun.”
“Of course it is,” Harry laughed slyly, knowing what Xabi was implying and letting the Spaniard think what he wanted.
“So, have you...?” Xabi trailed off and Harry just smiled a smile pregnant with meaning, but he said nothing else.
Xabi pouted, busying himself with letting his fingers trace the wood of Harry’s desk so he wouldn’t have to meet the Australian’s gaze head-on. When he looked up, Harry had already closed the distance between them, his hands resting on Xabi’s knees.
“Don’t worry, Alonso,” Harry said, his words soft and teasing, his breath blowing against the side of Xabi’s face, “Of course, you’re still my favourite Spaniard.”
Mika is dying from schoolwork. Please send your love. ;_;