And fire is a beautiful sound
Title: Collision Course (5/13)
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso/Harry Kewell, Steve Finnan/Daniel Agger
Characters: The entire Liverpool squad.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of this is real. I don’t own the boys.
A/N: University AU | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
I kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swaying from side to side.
Harry broke a lot of his rules for Xabi.
Rule #1: Go for the kill. (Because it’s impossible for your prospect to think twice when you’re already grinding on top of him.)
Xabi cradled his head in his hands as he absentmindedly tugged at his hair while studying the matrices in front of him. His forehead crinkled deeply as his eyes moved across the page, taking in the numbers and bending down to make an occasional note.
Harry swore he never knew someone studying could look so sexy.
He crouched down behind the Basque sitting on his desk chair and lightly ran his hands over Xabi’s bare forearms. He laughed lightly, “Xabi, you’re not studying too hard, are you?”
Xabi looked up, a small pout playing on his lips. (That tease.) “I always forget how to solve these!”
Harry pat his shoulder, “It does get confusing sometimes.” The Australian leaned forward even more to point at the textbook laid out in front of them, hand never leaving Xabi’s shoulder, “But you just have to remember the sequence of the numbers.” He bent closer to Xabi again, cheek intentionally brushing against his, “Right there,” he said softly, and Xabi didn’t know whether to follow the instructions Harry was pointing out on the textbook or to push closer to that touch.
“Sorry,” Xabi laughed nervously to himself. “I just get so stressed about it sometimes, I forget.”
“Hey,” Harry now placed both his hands on Xabi’s shoulders as he started kneading the taut muscle underneath it. “Relax. You’re too tense.”
Xabi smiled. “You’re right. You wanna take a break?”
Harry straightened up, “Good idea.”
Xabi stood up sluggishly. Then flopped down on Harry’s bed and stretched out. His voice of reason (which sounded a lot like Scouse) screamed at him to get up, run out and go home, but he was too tired to pay attention to it. Plus, maybe he was feeling just that bit careless tonight.
Harry stood at the foot of the bed, hands crossed over his chest, silly smile playing on his face. Well, well, well. Wasn’t this a very compromising position.
Xabi looked up at him-and Harry saw that glint. It flickered to the surface for a split-second, but Harry caught it. A challenging smirk. A come-hither look. Then, it was gone in the depths of Xabi’s hazel eyes. (Come to think of it, Harry didn’t know the exact shade of Harry’s eyes. Maybe he should check.)
Harry knelt on the edge of the bed, each leg on either side of Xabi’s. The Basque didn’t flinch nor move away. In fact, he just stared at Harry, half-glazed, half-anticipating.
Xabi tried his best to keep still, not arch against the soft mattress and moan in eagerness. A delicious tingle nonetheless ran up his spine. Maybe making mistakes wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Harry carefully crawled over Xabi, and on his hands and knees, he lowered himself over him. Inches apart and breaths mingling, Harry studied every inch of Xabi’s face-the strong jaw, those high cheekbones, the tiny semi-arrogant smirk (and his eyes were just a shade darker than chocolate, Harry thought). It’s been too long.
And just when Harry was still sort of just hovering, Xabi grinned to himself, pushed up and placed his kiss on his friend’s lips. When he pulled back, Harry looked shocked.
“What?” Xabi asked innocently.
“You kissed me first,” Harry pointed out, smiling too, a pink blush creeping over his cheeks.
“Yeah, I did,” Xabi shrugged nonchalantly. “But if I know you well,” Xabi let his fingers play with the curve of Harry’s neck, “You’re not one to let others take the lead for too long.”
“You know me well,” Harry agreed, before letting his lips wander, nuzzling on Xabi’s neck.
Xabi struggled to keep his voice steady as he felt Harry’s expertly licking at his jawbone, “No,” he gently pushed Harry away. The Australian stopped in confusion.
Xabi rolled them both over on their side and he scooted closer again-close that their legs were entwined tightly and their chests were flat against each other. “I want to kiss you,” Xabi said simply and as if to demonstrate, he leaned forward to capture Harry’s lips deeply. “I’ve missed this,” he added when he broke away.
Harry laughed breathlessly. “No problem,” he said, pulling Xabi to him and crashing their mouths together. He pressed against him, sucking languidly on Xabi’s bottom lip, making the Basque moan softly. Xabi opened his mouth and it was almost familiar. Harry deepened their kiss, letting his tongue probe slowly into Xabi’s mouth. Xabi followed suit, sucking on Harry’s tongue before he moved in to taste the Australian’s kiss too.
Rule #2: It doesn’t matter what base you reach (if you don’t get the home run).
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, briefly pulling away, but Xabi wouldn’t let him. A firm tug on Harry’s hair and they were kissing again, as they have been kissing for a good part of the last hour, writhing against Harry’s sheets as hands wandered under shirts and crotches moved hotly against each other.
Harry pulled away again, more resolutely this time, and craned his neck to check on his bedside clock. “Fuck,” he said again, struggling to untangle himself from Xabi.
“What is it?” Xabi asked impatiently, legs clenching around Harry’s unsubtly.
“It’s almost 11,” Harry said, sitting up very reluctantly. “The dorm monitor’s bound to do rounds any minute now and if he still catches you here, we’re both dead. Visitors aren’t allowed here past curfew.”
Xabi threw his head back and sighed in annoyance, but he sat up too anyway. “You’re right, maybe I should go.”
Harry gritted his teeth and wanted to claw his eyes out. What the hell was wrong with him? Curfew’s never stopped him before. In fact, trying to beat the clock was his well-worn excuse for a perfectly good quickie. But he still let Xabi stand up wobbly and gather his things.
In a way, he felt like he was an inexperienced freshman again, clumsy and awkward, hesitating to make the move-a far cry from the popular senior who wooed everyone with his confidence, basically able to fuck just about anyone is because he acted like he could.
Rule #3: There are no second dates. (Only wimps who couldn’t get laid on the first.)
(...Okay, so maybe all his rules were about sex.)
“Shit, we didn’t even get to finish the problem exercises,” Xabi grinned sheepishly, gathering his things. “We really can’t extend beyond curfew?”
Harry sat on the bed, running his hands through his dishevelled hair. “You want to break the rules... so we can study more?” He asked Xabi, laughing.
Xabi laughed too, “Yeah. You know me. Always the rebel.”
Harry shook his head and stood up to get Xabi’s jacket from the hallway closet.
“But that doesn’t mean studying’s all I want to do,” Xabi clarified, raising an eyebrow at the Australian.
“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded slowly, not giving out just yet. He opened the door and nodded to the corridor outside, “Now get a move on. I don’t want your ass expelled.”
Xabi rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but walked out anyway, snatching his jacket from Harry’s grasp, “Good night.”
“Call me when you can think of something more reckless, Alonso.”
He stopped halfway out the door, grinning-and Harry swore danger looked good on Xabi Alonso. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll think of something.”
*
Fernando tiredly entered their room, but the moment he closed the door and saw what he saw, he gasped.
“You didn’t!” Fernando exclaimed, and Harry looked up at him guiltily. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘I swear, we only studied matrices?’”
“Yeah, which is why you look dazed and your bed’s a mess,” Fernando snapped sarcastically, shrugging off his jacket. “Fucking matrix my ass.”
“That actually sounds kind of sexy,” Harry pointed out.
Fernando scowled, kicking off his shoes under his bed, “First, you’re a retard. Second, I can’t believe you fooled around with Xabi!”
Harry’s jaw dropped as he struggled to protest. “He started it!”
Fernando scoffed. “Yeah. Right.”
Harry scoffed back, “Why am I always the horny one?”
“...Is that a real question?”
“What’s up your ass?”
Fernando sighed and stripped to his boxers. “Nothing. The movie was just three hours long and deathly boring.”
“Yeah, the point was not to watch it. Or have I not taught you well?”
“It’s not like I had a choice!” Fernando pulled his pillow over his face and wailed.
“I take it you didn’t spend those three hours making out with Daniel Agger?” Harry asked.
“No,” Fernando mumbled lengthily, but it was muffled by the pillow. Harry rolled his eyes. Spanish fucking drama queen. He stalked over to his roommate’s bed and snatched the pillow away from Fernando’s face.
“Hey!”
“I couldn’t understand a bloody word.”
“I said,” Fernando repeated testily, “No, Stevie and Finns were there and they gouged us with Milk Duds. Happy?”
“Wow, Finns and Stevie were there?”
“Of course. Where else would Stevie be? His boyfriend was out slutting it up with you.”
“Oh, shut it, Torres. I meant, why the hell would Finns be there? He doesn’t even need extra credit.”
Fernando scowled, “What’s your point?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Harry shot back. “Be alarmed that Dan’s ex is moving in on your territory!”
Fernando’s face contorted from annoyance to genuine confusion. “...Dan’s ex?”
Harry slapped his forehead and cried out, “Oh my fucking god, Nando. Where have you been??”
“Oh, I dunno. Spain?” He retorted. Fernando was getting riled up too.
“Dan and Finns were together! And for the longest time. Since they met on the team.”
Fernando was sceptical. “But, Dan never said anything. I just know they’re best friends.”
“Nando, I was once on the team too, you know. I still remember all the dirt.”
Fernando laid back on his bed, stunned and staring at the ceiling. “No way.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his tone more gentle now. “But, you know, maybe I could be wrong. They did always say they were just fooling around together and it wasn’t anything committed.”
Fernando shook his head to get himself out of his daze. “Oh well. Whatever. It’s not like I really care.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Nando.”
“Fuck off, Harry,” the Spaniard snapped back. “Stevie was also there tonight, mind you.”
“And I should be bothered?”
“You’re only trying to steal his husband,” Fernando rolled his eyes.
Harry sat up and challenged, “And what would you have me do? Ask permission from him? Or tell him, ‘By the way, captain, your boyfriend wants me’?” The Australian shook his head defensively. “It’s not my responsibility. If Stevie can’t keep Xabi honest, that’s his problem, not mine.”
“You’re a very twisted man,” Fernando sighed, climbing under his sheets, suddenly feeling a hundred times more tired than when he first arrived.
“I gave you crucial inside knowledge about Danny and Finns,” Harry pointed out, hurt. “But you still keep judging me based on my indiscretions.”
Fernando snickered. “Big word. Impressive, Harry. Maybe I should suck face with the nearest nerd too.”
“If you weren’t hot, Torres, I would have-”
Fernando slapped the light switch, throwing the entire room in darkness. Harry yelped, “Hey! I still have to study!”
“I want to go to sleep,” Fernando cut off. “You already had a study date earlier and if you chose not to study there, that’s not my problem.”
“You fucking brat.” Harry grudgingly climbed onto bed too. “I hope Finns and Danny get back together.”
“Oh, shut up, Kewell.”
*
“I give up!” Dan collapsed on the grass next to Finns.
“Yeah, Rafa gives insane training hours before matches,” Finns said in between large gulps of Lucozade.
Dan stared at the Irishman strangely. “I’m not talking about football.”
Finns rolled his eyes, “Fine, Daniel, what do you want to talk about?”
“I meant, I’m giving up on that,” Dan made a subtle nod to where the Spaniards were either practicing spot kicks or just simply trying to hit Pepe on different parts of the body.
“Ten points!” Fernando pumped his fist in the air as the ball rebounded loudly off Pepe’s shoulder.
“You bastards-” Pepe panted as he made a running leap to stop another ball whizzing past him. Alvaro took that as an opportunity to launch another shot, and before the goalkeeper could look, it hit him dangerously close to his groin.
“Hundred points for the freaking win!” Alvaro screamed, running around like a madman, whipping off his shirt and waving to the imaginary crowd.
“Er, I don’t get it,” Finns spoke up, tearing Dan’s attention away from the game. “You’re giving up on penalty kicks or insane Spaniards? Because there’s a good case for each.”
Dan picked at the grass and threw it at Finns, “Well, you’re almost close.”
“Crazy Spaniards, huh?” Finns suggested with a wry, knowing smile.
“Yeah,” Dan grinned back, almost embarrassed. He threw a clump of grass at the Irishman, “And it’s all your fault! You and Stevie and your motherfucking movie food.”
“Wha-What did we do? We were just-”
Dan stared at Finns darkly.
“Oh,” Finns said loudly as it dawned on him. He slapped his forehead, “Oh, riiiight.”
“You salted my game,” Dan elbowed Finns who by now had collapsed into a fit of giggles. “It’s getting so embarrassing, I really just want to stop humiliating myself with these half-assed attempts and ridiculous interruptions.”
Finns pat the Dane’s shoulder consolingly, “Oh, Danny. You know what they say: If at first you don’t succeed...?”
He looked at the younger man expectantly.
“Destroy all evidence you tried?” Dan guessed.
Finns sighed. “You’re hopeless.”
*
“How many times are you going to come home late this week?”
Tiptoeing in the dark, Xabi yelped at the sudden noise and turned around, banging against some unseen item of furniture, “Ow!”
Groggy and dressed just in his boxers, Mikel flipped on the lights.
“Jesus Christ, Mikel, don’t scare me like that!” Xabi rubbed the sore spot on his shin.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t trying to sneak in unnoticed, you wouldn’t have rammed straight against the dining table.”
Xabi sighed and turned around, walking to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Mikel stubbornly followed his little brother. “You know, Xabs, I try to be very lenient. But you can’t keep coming home at midnight on school nights. And this is, what, the third time this week?”
Xabi briefly paused, his glass raised halfway to his lips, looking slightly horrified at Mikel’s painful attempt at being a responsible sibling.
Mikel padded closer, patting Xabi’s knees supportively, “I’m very supportive of you and Stevie. You can do whatever you want, but my point is, you have to know your limits.”
“Mikel!” Xabi cried out, cringing. “Stop it!”
Mikel’s jaw dropped. “What? This is a serious issue, Xabi.”
“No, it’s a pointless issue.”
Mikel shook his head sternly. “No, I have a right to be slightly worried about you and your studies. You and Stevie have been out too many times this week-“
Xabi’s cheeks burned and he mumbled something incoherent. Mikel stopped. Then his eyes widened.
“Unless,” Mikel’s voice boomed loudly in the empty kitchen, “You weren’t out with Stevie!”
“Uh,” Xabi stammered. If he said he was with Stevie, he was dead. If he said he wasn’t, well... it could be messy. “Mikel, I-”
“AHA!”
Xabi stood up, “I’m getting another glass of water.”
“Xabier Alonso Olano!” Mikel shouted half-amused, half-scolding. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing!” Xabi protested a little too quickly.
Mikel eyed him suspiciously. “Are you doing drugs?”
It was Xabi’s turn to look shocked. “No!”
Mikel gasped. “Have you gotten someone pregnant?!”
Xabi shook his head in disbelief. “I’m failing Advanced Algebra.”
Mikel clapped a hand over his mouth, “You’re failing maths because you impregnated some girl?? Why you-You just wait until Papa hears about this, Xabier-”
Xabi threw his hands up in the air, “Mikel, no one’s pregnant!”
“...Oh.” Mikel frowned, looking slightly disappointed. “So you’re just staying out late to... study?”
Xabi rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Jesus, Xabi, you almost gave me a heart attack-” Mikel continued his sermon, but Xabi was already striding to his room. Before Mikel could catch up, Xabi closed the door and locked it.
Xabi undressed, threw himself on the bed and pulled the cover above his head. Silence, finally.
Until, of course, Mikel came walking in and Xabi cursed that their bedrooms were linked by an adjoining bathroom and he forgot to lock that door. Again. (Mikel had the unfortunate luck of walking in Xabi’s room at the most inopportune moments. How do you think he discovered that Xabi was gay and dating this boy Steven Gerrard?)
“Tell me,” Mikel nagged in that annoying singsong tone.
“Go away, I’m off to sleep,” Xabi mumbled under the covers.
“I’m not leaving until you spill,” Mikel said persistently, poking Xabi’s butt through the duvet.
“It’s nothing, okay?” Xabi rolled over and sat up exasperatedly. “I’m just taking some tutorials with my friend.”
“Yeah, and if there wasn’t a juicy secret behind that, you would’ve told me that so much more easily,” Mikel raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Who’s this friend?”
“Just... someone.”
Mikel smiled wryly, “Stalling isn’t going to help you, Xabier.”
Xabi let himself fall back down on the mattress, “Fine. It was Harry Kewell, okay?”
Xabi shut his eyes as he heard Mikel gasp then whoop out loud. “No frickin’ way. Harry Kewell? The Australian? Is he still on the team? The last you told me of him was when he got injured.” Mikel rattled off.
“Mikel, stop gushing over Harry.”
“Well, I did like him, you know,” Mikel said. Most of other Xabi’s friends and teammates were too wild and rambunctious. “Didn’t you two use to hang out a lot? He was always over here after school and training. What happened?”
“Er,” Xabi played with a stray thread on his pillow case. “Stevie happened.”
Mikel laughed sardonically and clapped. “I love it. It’s like a telenovela.”
“Good night, Mikel.”
“Good night.” Mikel thankfully stood up this time and bounded out the bedroom. “And keep me updated, Xabs!”
*
“Hey,” a deep voice whispered in Xabi’s ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Xabi whirled around, a little breathless.
“Missed me?” Stevie asked, grinning.
“Oh, Stevie,” Xabi’s smile faltered a little. “It’s you.”
“Who did you think it would be?” Stevie joked, but the comment sent a guilty pang to Xabi’s heart.
“Sorry, I’m just a little out of it today. I didn’t get much sleep,” Xabi hurriedly changed the topic.
“Where were you?” Stevie asked, and they began walking to the cafeteria for lunch. “I tried calling your house last night but Mikel said you still weren’t home.”
Xabi snapped. “I had tutorials, okay?”
Stevie looked taken aback. “Wow, you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Xabi sighed as he apologized again, “Sorry, it’s Mikel. He’s been giving me a hard time about being out all the time.”
“Do you really need that many extra lessons?” Stevie asked, looking a little concerned. “You can’t be doing worse than me in maths. I swear, Mr Moyes hates me.”
“I barely got a passing grade in the midterms, so I’m trying to compensate as much as possible before this marking period ends,” Xabi explained, pushing open the lunchroom door for both of them.
“I guess so,” Stevie shrugged, letting go of the issue. If there was anything Xabi was touchy about, it was his grades. “But you will still be there for training later, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Xabi smiled sincerely for the first time in the conversation. “First game of the season and it’s at home to Chelsea. I can’t wait!”
Stevie smiled back at him, and they made their way to the snaking line. A group of freshmen were huddled over and chatting by the end of the line. One of them looked up, caught sight of the two midfielders and sort of yelped. He nudged his friends and nodded toward the older jocks, and they all moved away obediently, making way for them.
Stevie grinned haughtily and moved up the line. Xabi glanced at them apologetically, before hurrying after the captain.
“Stevie! They were in line first.”
“They gave way,” Stevie said, unaffected. Xabi sighed. Since when did everything suddenly seem so grating?
“Beef steak and orange soda, right?” Stevie asked him, plucking a food tray and a beverage for the Basque even before he agreed. Xabi heaved a sigh again. And since when did everything seem so routine?
“No, I want apple juice today,” Xabi blurted out.
Stevie looked at him strangely before shrugging and replacing the drink. They paid for their lunches before carefully making their way through the crowded cafeteria to the table where their teammates were. It was difficult to miss: the best table smack right in the centre of the room, loud and teeming.
“Anyway, maybe we could hang out today,” Stevie was saying and it was only partially making sense to Xabi who was out of it. “We haven’t gone out in a while.”
Xabi nodded noncommittally, “Sure.”
“We could chill at my house later after training,” Stevie said, not even asking for Xabi’s agreement.
“Yeah, whatever you say,” Xabi replied dully, stifling a yawn.
They settled down in the middle seats of the large table, their friends already up to their usual banter.
“I flunked my exam!” Carra bellowed.
“Which one?” Dirk asked cheekily.
“French! It was so dreadful. It was like, death by conjugation,” Carra moaned.
“You should have seen Carra this morning,” Stevie joined in. “Mr Wenger had to stop him halfway through the oral exam to ask him if he knew the slightest thing about French.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he was very happy when I said I wanted France to win the World Cup in 06.”
Penns added, “If you haven’t heard Scouse-French, you haven’t heard anything at all.”
“Oy, it’s not just us Scousers! You just wait until those Spanish lads have to take Wenger.”
“Xabi nailed the finals,” Stevie pointed out.
Carra rolled his eyes, “That’s Xabi. He could be the human Babelfish if he wanted to.”
Xabi grinned, but continued to poke half-heartedly at his food.
“Ah, wait until Fernando takes that class. Then we can all give him stick for his Spanish-French.”
Fernando looked up, with that perfected wide-eyed and innocent expression. “I’m good in French kissing, does that count?”
“Well, you’ll pass your orals with flying colours then,” Dan replied with a lopsided grin, and the two kids stared at each other shamelessly.
Xabi sighed to himself. He could just be at the library now, catching some much-deserved shut-eye. Until he felt a heavy clap on his back.
“Look alive, Alonso!”
“Hey!” Finns was the first to speak up. “If it isn’t Harry Kewell!”
The table erupted into cheers, hellos and questions of whether the Australian had plans of rejoining the team. Xabi, however, sat there looking a bit dazed. The cheek of that boy to walk up to their table-Xabi had to bite back a smile.
“I just dropped by to say a quick hi to everyone,” Harry was saying, waving to the older boys, nodding to the new signings and briefly resting his gaze on an amused Xabi. They shared a quick smile, before Harry turned back to the team, “Anyway, I’m off. My friend’s waiting for me.”
“See you, Kewell,” Carra chorused with the others, and Harry strode off to a table not very far away. He sat down next to this girl, Sheree.
“If I know, Harry’s putting the moves on her,” Riise said in a hushed tone. “I keep seeing them together.”
“Yeah, I heard that rumour too,” Finns confirmed and they all chuckled to themselves, betting how long it would take Harry to nail her.
“My friend said they caught them making out in the janitor’s closet down the Houllier wing,” Lucas said, wide-eyed.
Xabi gritted his teeth, sneaking a glance at Harry and Sheree, heads close and talking softly to each other. Before he could control himself, he blurted out, “I don’t believe it. I bet there’s nothing’s between them.”
The team stopped chattering. “How would you know?” Stevie asked, forehead furrowing.
“Fernando told me they were just seatmates in English,” the lie effortlessly slipped out of Xabi’s mouth, and the Spaniard had to wonder when he became so good at lying.
Stevie switched his scrutinizing glance over to Fernando, and the kid stammered, “Uh, yeah. Harry told me they were seatmates and Sheree even lets him copy her assignments and all.”
Stevie didn’t look convinced, but he just nodded slowly. Xabi glared at Fernando, who retaliated by giving him a quick kick to the shins.
“Anyway,” Crouch broke the uncharacteristic silence, “First game of the season next week, yeah? We should thrash those London rent boys.”
The team started again instantly, talking animatedly about their upcoming clash with Chelsea. Everyone in school was already talking about it. Carra and Stevie busied themselves with briefing the team about Terry and Lampard, who they played with in the under-18s national team.
Xabi heaved a sigh of relief as he went back to moping. He casually craned his neck, pretending to look for someone in the cafeteria and ‘unintentionally’ letting his gaze drift over Harry and Sheree’s table. A spark of irritation flashed in his gut as he watched Sheree throw her head back and laugh completely unrealistically at whatever Harry had just said.
Xabi fumed and dug his mobile out of his messenger bag. His fingers flew over the keypad as he quickly typed out a message.
‘So, you and Sheree, huh?’
A quick beep, and Xabi discreetly read the message, cautiously tilting his phone so Stevie wouldn’t be able to peek if he tried to.
‘So, you and Stevie, huh?’
Oh. Right.
Xabi frowned and tossed his phone on the table in resignation, the mobile clattering against the plastic table top.
“You okay, babe?” Stevie wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in close, looking a bit concerned.
Xabi smiled warmly, “Oh no, it’s nothing. My phone’s just fucking up again.”
Lie #2. Too easy.
Stevie nodded and went back to his ongoing conversation with Carra and Sami.
Half a scoop of mashed potatoes later, Xabi’s phone buzzed again. The Spaniard had to smile as he saw Harry’s name in his inbox again.
‘Are we still meeting up for tonight? I’ve missed you.’
Xabi felt a sickening flutter in his stomach. He looked up and caught Harry’s gaze. The Australian winked at him cheekily, before returning to his conversation with Sheree.
Xabi grinned to himself and quickly typed in his reply.
‘We should.’ Xabi paused, unsure, but threw caution to the wind anyway. ‘But I’m bored now.’
Xabi tapped his feet nervously, not knowing how Harry would reply to his obviously open-ended message.
Harry opened the message underneath the table and when he read the message, he felt a hot blush creeping up his neck.
‘What are you thinking of, Alonso?’
A few agonizing minutes and a million glances at his mobile, Xabi finally replied.
‘I hear the janitor’s closet is private enough.’
Harry cursed underneath his breath as he felt a tingling in his gut. Fucking Spaniards. Do they culturally just breed that kind of unabashed sex appeal? He texted under the table so Sheree wouldn’t see.
‘Give me two minutes.’
Xabi deleted the message and slid the phone in his pocket, struggling to keep a poker face despite the buzzing anticipation inside him.
“Stevie?” Xabi coughed lightly. The captain immediately cut off his sentence and looked at his boyfriend, “Yeah?”
“I just forgot my Physics book in the locker. I’ll just run off and get it, alright?”
Third lie in a row. He was getting the hang of this.
Stevie nodded and smiled, “No problem.”
Xabi smiled back, hands meticulously straightening out his blazer and tie, “Save my seat. This won’t be long.”
*
“Remind me again why Mr Ferguson had to assign us ten chapters of new readings a week before the exam?” Fernando ran his hands tiredly through his hair as Dan and him piled up their photocopied books in their arms.
“And why were the books we needed all the way in the Manchester freaking Library?” Fernando continued ranting, as the two struggled out of the library, holding the door open with a foot as they tried to barrel out without dropping any of their things.
“For the first question, well, because Fergie’s really just that evil,” Dan said, stuffing his stack of readings inside his backpack. “And for the second question, are you even surprised? It’s so bloody obvious Mr Ferguson’s a Manc.”
Fernando sighed as they walked down the streets to the train station in the corner. He checked his watch, “Damn, I didn’t realize it was so late. I hope I don’t get locked out of the dorm.”
“Nah, I think the tube will be empty now, so travel won’t be as tedious as this afternoon,” Dan tried to assure the striker.
They filed down the stairs and got themselves tickets. True enough, the station was almost deserted except for a few people milling around wearily.
“Ten stops away from Liverpool,” Fernando sighed, pouting at Dan.
Dan grinned, trying to tear his eyes away from those lips. He slung a casual arm around Fernando’s waist and ushered him to the trains, “Come on then, Torres, let’s get you home.”
*
The dull sound of wheels running on tracks slowly lulled Fernando to sleep, his body completely exhausted after this afternoon’s double training session and his mind totally drained because of their History cramming session.
Tiredly, he let his head fall against the cool metal of the pole, the gentle swaying of the train carriage slowly coaxing Fernando to close his eyes.
Dan leaned against the wall of the car, watching the Spaniard intently. Of course he wasn’t thinking of illicit thoughts as Fernando wrapped his arm around the pole. And of course it completely didn’t affect Daniel how Fernando’s eyes were closed and his forehead was lightly creased and his movement was languid.
Dan shifted, trying to concentrate elsewhere: the other passengers drifting to sleep or engrossed in their own matters, the posters on the train, the number of stops left. But all he could stare at was the striker, with his necktie loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt undone and his hair unkempt.
“Fuck it,” Dan said to no one in particular. Taking long but careful strides to avoid losing his balance, he closed the distance between him and the Spaniard.
Fernando looked up, dazed, before smiling, “Hey.”
Dan’s brain was going on overdrive and his senses were attuned to every one of his movements: like how his hand casually held on to the pole just atop Fernando’s, fingers brushing lightly. Fernando looked at their touching hands and tried to look unaffected, but Dan saw his eyes widen slightly and his disposition become more attuned.
Dan lifted his other hand and tucked the Spaniard’s hair behind his ear, before leaning down to whisper, “Roughly fifteen people in this train, Niño,” Dan sensed Fernando shiver, “What do you think are the chances they’re watching what we’re doing?”
Fernando’s breath hitched, and he stared up at Daniel under thick lashes. All he could say was, “Fucking hell, Daniel.”
Dan manoeuvred so Fernando was trapped between his body and pushed against the metal pole. “Better?” He asked cheekily.
“Fucking. Hell. Daniel.” Fernando said again, his words crisp and low and up close, Dan observed a thin layer of sweat forming just above Fernando’s upper lip.
The train swayed and went over bumps, the movement causing Dan to stumble forward, pressing their bodies together accidentally. Fernando let out a small moan at the slightest friction, and he wondered why he was this easy tonight.
Dan didn’t move away after falling closer to Fernando. Instead, he let his lips brush lightly over the Spaniard’s jawline.
“You tease,” Fernando breathed, and Dan smirked against his freckled skin.
“Fine,” Dan said, pulling away and facing Fernando straight. The Spaniard didn’t flinch this time. He just stared at Daniel, then raised one cocky eyebrow.
“Well?”
Well, bloody hell, Dan wasn’t going to back down from that kind of challenge.
Burying a hand through Fernando’s hair and tugging him close, Dan crashed their lips together and it was like this overwhelming wave of thankyougodfinally before it gave way to the tangy taste of fuckthisboycankiss.
Fernando was the first to pull away-but only inches away, if not centimetres-and he ran his fingers over Dan’s lips, as if entranced. Then, he smirked and looked up at the defender. “On the train? You kissed me on the train?”
Dan broke into a genuine laugh. “This is the only place where our teammates can’t sabotage us.”
Fernando craned his neck backward, surveying the rest of the car. Most of the passengers were either asleep or gazing out the window. There was a girl in the far side of the train looking highly amused and an old couple sitting just a few metres away from them, jaws dropped, completely aghast.
The couple saw Fernando looking at them and they shook their heads, tutting and whispering between themselves. Fernando rolled his eyes and looked back at Dan, “I think this may count as a public display of indecency, Agger.”
Dan followed Fernando’s gaze and laughed too. “No, for it to be indecent, I’d have to do this-” Fernando gasped in shock as Dan pressed against him completely now, every turn of the train, every slight movement brought their heated bodies grinding.
Fernando buried his face into the nook of Dan’s neck and breathed out a moan. The hot breath sent tingles down Dan’s spine. The Dane bit back a groan and instead pushed his leg in between Fernando’s so he could feel his excitement against his thigh. Fernando whimpered and let his head fall back against the pole in pleasure, and Dan swore he hardened even more at the sight.
“You had to kiss me in a public place?” Fernando muttered testily, trying to control himself, fingers digging in deliciously on Dan’s hip.
“I just wanted to test your restraint,” Dan teased, letting a hand roam inside Fernando’s blazer, tracing his abs through the thin, white button-down.
Fernando smiled mischievously, bringing his arms around Dan’s neck and pulling him down to meet his lips again. “Well, test my restraint now. You have only three more stops to go.”
Meep, sorry. I really have no idea what Liverpool or Manchester (or England, for that matter) is really like. I just made up buildings and trains and entire frickin' worlds here. Ohai, creative licence.
Apologies as well because this was terribly crammed. My flight's in a couple of hours. I just wanted to leave you guys the update I promised this week, so you won't forget me while I'm gone. ♥
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso/Harry Kewell, Steve Finnan/Daniel Agger
Characters: The entire Liverpool squad.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of this is real. I don’t own the boys.
A/N: University AU | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
I kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swaying from side to side.
Harry broke a lot of his rules for Xabi.
Rule #1: Go for the kill. (Because it’s impossible for your prospect to think twice when you’re already grinding on top of him.)
Xabi cradled his head in his hands as he absentmindedly tugged at his hair while studying the matrices in front of him. His forehead crinkled deeply as his eyes moved across the page, taking in the numbers and bending down to make an occasional note.
Harry swore he never knew someone studying could look so sexy.
He crouched down behind the Basque sitting on his desk chair and lightly ran his hands over Xabi’s bare forearms. He laughed lightly, “Xabi, you’re not studying too hard, are you?”
Xabi looked up, a small pout playing on his lips. (That tease.) “I always forget how to solve these!”
Harry pat his shoulder, “It does get confusing sometimes.” The Australian leaned forward even more to point at the textbook laid out in front of them, hand never leaving Xabi’s shoulder, “But you just have to remember the sequence of the numbers.” He bent closer to Xabi again, cheek intentionally brushing against his, “Right there,” he said softly, and Xabi didn’t know whether to follow the instructions Harry was pointing out on the textbook or to push closer to that touch.
“Sorry,” Xabi laughed nervously to himself. “I just get so stressed about it sometimes, I forget.”
“Hey,” Harry now placed both his hands on Xabi’s shoulders as he started kneading the taut muscle underneath it. “Relax. You’re too tense.”
Xabi smiled. “You’re right. You wanna take a break?”
Harry straightened up, “Good idea.”
Xabi stood up sluggishly. Then flopped down on Harry’s bed and stretched out. His voice of reason (which sounded a lot like Scouse) screamed at him to get up, run out and go home, but he was too tired to pay attention to it. Plus, maybe he was feeling just that bit careless tonight.
Harry stood at the foot of the bed, hands crossed over his chest, silly smile playing on his face. Well, well, well. Wasn’t this a very compromising position.
Xabi looked up at him-and Harry saw that glint. It flickered to the surface for a split-second, but Harry caught it. A challenging smirk. A come-hither look. Then, it was gone in the depths of Xabi’s hazel eyes. (Come to think of it, Harry didn’t know the exact shade of Harry’s eyes. Maybe he should check.)
Harry knelt on the edge of the bed, each leg on either side of Xabi’s. The Basque didn’t flinch nor move away. In fact, he just stared at Harry, half-glazed, half-anticipating.
Xabi tried his best to keep still, not arch against the soft mattress and moan in eagerness. A delicious tingle nonetheless ran up his spine. Maybe making mistakes wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Harry carefully crawled over Xabi, and on his hands and knees, he lowered himself over him. Inches apart and breaths mingling, Harry studied every inch of Xabi’s face-the strong jaw, those high cheekbones, the tiny semi-arrogant smirk (and his eyes were just a shade darker than chocolate, Harry thought). It’s been too long.
And just when Harry was still sort of just hovering, Xabi grinned to himself, pushed up and placed his kiss on his friend’s lips. When he pulled back, Harry looked shocked.
“What?” Xabi asked innocently.
“You kissed me first,” Harry pointed out, smiling too, a pink blush creeping over his cheeks.
“Yeah, I did,” Xabi shrugged nonchalantly. “But if I know you well,” Xabi let his fingers play with the curve of Harry’s neck, “You’re not one to let others take the lead for too long.”
“You know me well,” Harry agreed, before letting his lips wander, nuzzling on Xabi’s neck.
Xabi struggled to keep his voice steady as he felt Harry’s expertly licking at his jawbone, “No,” he gently pushed Harry away. The Australian stopped in confusion.
Xabi rolled them both over on their side and he scooted closer again-close that their legs were entwined tightly and their chests were flat against each other. “I want to kiss you,” Xabi said simply and as if to demonstrate, he leaned forward to capture Harry’s lips deeply. “I’ve missed this,” he added when he broke away.
Harry laughed breathlessly. “No problem,” he said, pulling Xabi to him and crashing their mouths together. He pressed against him, sucking languidly on Xabi’s bottom lip, making the Basque moan softly. Xabi opened his mouth and it was almost familiar. Harry deepened their kiss, letting his tongue probe slowly into Xabi’s mouth. Xabi followed suit, sucking on Harry’s tongue before he moved in to taste the Australian’s kiss too.
Rule #2: It doesn’t matter what base you reach (if you don’t get the home run).
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, briefly pulling away, but Xabi wouldn’t let him. A firm tug on Harry’s hair and they were kissing again, as they have been kissing for a good part of the last hour, writhing against Harry’s sheets as hands wandered under shirts and crotches moved hotly against each other.
Harry pulled away again, more resolutely this time, and craned his neck to check on his bedside clock. “Fuck,” he said again, struggling to untangle himself from Xabi.
“What is it?” Xabi asked impatiently, legs clenching around Harry’s unsubtly.
“It’s almost 11,” Harry said, sitting up very reluctantly. “The dorm monitor’s bound to do rounds any minute now and if he still catches you here, we’re both dead. Visitors aren’t allowed here past curfew.”
Xabi threw his head back and sighed in annoyance, but he sat up too anyway. “You’re right, maybe I should go.”
Harry gritted his teeth and wanted to claw his eyes out. What the hell was wrong with him? Curfew’s never stopped him before. In fact, trying to beat the clock was his well-worn excuse for a perfectly good quickie. But he still let Xabi stand up wobbly and gather his things.
In a way, he felt like he was an inexperienced freshman again, clumsy and awkward, hesitating to make the move-a far cry from the popular senior who wooed everyone with his confidence, basically able to fuck just about anyone is because he acted like he could.
Rule #3: There are no second dates. (Only wimps who couldn’t get laid on the first.)
(...Okay, so maybe all his rules were about sex.)
“Shit, we didn’t even get to finish the problem exercises,” Xabi grinned sheepishly, gathering his things. “We really can’t extend beyond curfew?”
Harry sat on the bed, running his hands through his dishevelled hair. “You want to break the rules... so we can study more?” He asked Xabi, laughing.
Xabi laughed too, “Yeah. You know me. Always the rebel.”
Harry shook his head and stood up to get Xabi’s jacket from the hallway closet.
“But that doesn’t mean studying’s all I want to do,” Xabi clarified, raising an eyebrow at the Australian.
“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded slowly, not giving out just yet. He opened the door and nodded to the corridor outside, “Now get a move on. I don’t want your ass expelled.”
Xabi rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but walked out anyway, snatching his jacket from Harry’s grasp, “Good night.”
“Call me when you can think of something more reckless, Alonso.”
He stopped halfway out the door, grinning-and Harry swore danger looked good on Xabi Alonso. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll think of something.”
*
Fernando tiredly entered their room, but the moment he closed the door and saw what he saw, he gasped.
“You didn’t!” Fernando exclaimed, and Harry looked up at him guiltily. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘I swear, we only studied matrices?’”
“Yeah, which is why you look dazed and your bed’s a mess,” Fernando snapped sarcastically, shrugging off his jacket. “Fucking matrix my ass.”
“That actually sounds kind of sexy,” Harry pointed out.
Fernando scowled, kicking off his shoes under his bed, “First, you’re a retard. Second, I can’t believe you fooled around with Xabi!”
Harry’s jaw dropped as he struggled to protest. “He started it!”
Fernando scoffed. “Yeah. Right.”
Harry scoffed back, “Why am I always the horny one?”
“...Is that a real question?”
“What’s up your ass?”
Fernando sighed and stripped to his boxers. “Nothing. The movie was just three hours long and deathly boring.”
“Yeah, the point was not to watch it. Or have I not taught you well?”
“It’s not like I had a choice!” Fernando pulled his pillow over his face and wailed.
“I take it you didn’t spend those three hours making out with Daniel Agger?” Harry asked.
“No,” Fernando mumbled lengthily, but it was muffled by the pillow. Harry rolled his eyes. Spanish fucking drama queen. He stalked over to his roommate’s bed and snatched the pillow away from Fernando’s face.
“Hey!”
“I couldn’t understand a bloody word.”
“I said,” Fernando repeated testily, “No, Stevie and Finns were there and they gouged us with Milk Duds. Happy?”
“Wow, Finns and Stevie were there?”
“Of course. Where else would Stevie be? His boyfriend was out slutting it up with you.”
“Oh, shut it, Torres. I meant, why the hell would Finns be there? He doesn’t even need extra credit.”
Fernando scowled, “What’s your point?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Harry shot back. “Be alarmed that Dan’s ex is moving in on your territory!”
Fernando’s face contorted from annoyance to genuine confusion. “...Dan’s ex?”
Harry slapped his forehead and cried out, “Oh my fucking god, Nando. Where have you been??”
“Oh, I dunno. Spain?” He retorted. Fernando was getting riled up too.
“Dan and Finns were together! And for the longest time. Since they met on the team.”
Fernando was sceptical. “But, Dan never said anything. I just know they’re best friends.”
“Nando, I was once on the team too, you know. I still remember all the dirt.”
Fernando laid back on his bed, stunned and staring at the ceiling. “No way.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his tone more gentle now. “But, you know, maybe I could be wrong. They did always say they were just fooling around together and it wasn’t anything committed.”
Fernando shook his head to get himself out of his daze. “Oh well. Whatever. It’s not like I really care.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Nando.”
“Fuck off, Harry,” the Spaniard snapped back. “Stevie was also there tonight, mind you.”
“And I should be bothered?”
“You’re only trying to steal his husband,” Fernando rolled his eyes.
Harry sat up and challenged, “And what would you have me do? Ask permission from him? Or tell him, ‘By the way, captain, your boyfriend wants me’?” The Australian shook his head defensively. “It’s not my responsibility. If Stevie can’t keep Xabi honest, that’s his problem, not mine.”
“You’re a very twisted man,” Fernando sighed, climbing under his sheets, suddenly feeling a hundred times more tired than when he first arrived.
“I gave you crucial inside knowledge about Danny and Finns,” Harry pointed out, hurt. “But you still keep judging me based on my indiscretions.”
Fernando snickered. “Big word. Impressive, Harry. Maybe I should suck face with the nearest nerd too.”
“If you weren’t hot, Torres, I would have-”
Fernando slapped the light switch, throwing the entire room in darkness. Harry yelped, “Hey! I still have to study!”
“I want to go to sleep,” Fernando cut off. “You already had a study date earlier and if you chose not to study there, that’s not my problem.”
“You fucking brat.” Harry grudgingly climbed onto bed too. “I hope Finns and Danny get back together.”
“Oh, shut up, Kewell.”
*
“I give up!” Dan collapsed on the grass next to Finns.
“Yeah, Rafa gives insane training hours before matches,” Finns said in between large gulps of Lucozade.
Dan stared at the Irishman strangely. “I’m not talking about football.”
Finns rolled his eyes, “Fine, Daniel, what do you want to talk about?”
“I meant, I’m giving up on that,” Dan made a subtle nod to where the Spaniards were either practicing spot kicks or just simply trying to hit Pepe on different parts of the body.
“Ten points!” Fernando pumped his fist in the air as the ball rebounded loudly off Pepe’s shoulder.
“You bastards-” Pepe panted as he made a running leap to stop another ball whizzing past him. Alvaro took that as an opportunity to launch another shot, and before the goalkeeper could look, it hit him dangerously close to his groin.
“Hundred points for the freaking win!” Alvaro screamed, running around like a madman, whipping off his shirt and waving to the imaginary crowd.
“Er, I don’t get it,” Finns spoke up, tearing Dan’s attention away from the game. “You’re giving up on penalty kicks or insane Spaniards? Because there’s a good case for each.”
Dan picked at the grass and threw it at Finns, “Well, you’re almost close.”
“Crazy Spaniards, huh?” Finns suggested with a wry, knowing smile.
“Yeah,” Dan grinned back, almost embarrassed. He threw a clump of grass at the Irishman, “And it’s all your fault! You and Stevie and your motherfucking movie food.”
“Wha-What did we do? We were just-”
Dan stared at Finns darkly.
“Oh,” Finns said loudly as it dawned on him. He slapped his forehead, “Oh, riiiight.”
“You salted my game,” Dan elbowed Finns who by now had collapsed into a fit of giggles. “It’s getting so embarrassing, I really just want to stop humiliating myself with these half-assed attempts and ridiculous interruptions.”
Finns pat the Dane’s shoulder consolingly, “Oh, Danny. You know what they say: If at first you don’t succeed...?”
He looked at the younger man expectantly.
“Destroy all evidence you tried?” Dan guessed.
Finns sighed. “You’re hopeless.”
*
“How many times are you going to come home late this week?”
Tiptoeing in the dark, Xabi yelped at the sudden noise and turned around, banging against some unseen item of furniture, “Ow!”
Groggy and dressed just in his boxers, Mikel flipped on the lights.
“Jesus Christ, Mikel, don’t scare me like that!” Xabi rubbed the sore spot on his shin.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t trying to sneak in unnoticed, you wouldn’t have rammed straight against the dining table.”
Xabi sighed and turned around, walking to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Mikel stubbornly followed his little brother. “You know, Xabs, I try to be very lenient. But you can’t keep coming home at midnight on school nights. And this is, what, the third time this week?”
Xabi briefly paused, his glass raised halfway to his lips, looking slightly horrified at Mikel’s painful attempt at being a responsible sibling.
Mikel padded closer, patting Xabi’s knees supportively, “I’m very supportive of you and Stevie. You can do whatever you want, but my point is, you have to know your limits.”
“Mikel!” Xabi cried out, cringing. “Stop it!”
Mikel’s jaw dropped. “What? This is a serious issue, Xabi.”
“No, it’s a pointless issue.”
Mikel shook his head sternly. “No, I have a right to be slightly worried about you and your studies. You and Stevie have been out too many times this week-“
Xabi’s cheeks burned and he mumbled something incoherent. Mikel stopped. Then his eyes widened.
“Unless,” Mikel’s voice boomed loudly in the empty kitchen, “You weren’t out with Stevie!”
“Uh,” Xabi stammered. If he said he was with Stevie, he was dead. If he said he wasn’t, well... it could be messy. “Mikel, I-”
“AHA!”
Xabi stood up, “I’m getting another glass of water.”
“Xabier Alonso Olano!” Mikel shouted half-amused, half-scolding. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing!” Xabi protested a little too quickly.
Mikel eyed him suspiciously. “Are you doing drugs?”
It was Xabi’s turn to look shocked. “No!”
Mikel gasped. “Have you gotten someone pregnant?!”
Xabi shook his head in disbelief. “I’m failing Advanced Algebra.”
Mikel clapped a hand over his mouth, “You’re failing maths because you impregnated some girl?? Why you-You just wait until Papa hears about this, Xabier-”
Xabi threw his hands up in the air, “Mikel, no one’s pregnant!”
“...Oh.” Mikel frowned, looking slightly disappointed. “So you’re just staying out late to... study?”
Xabi rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Jesus, Xabi, you almost gave me a heart attack-” Mikel continued his sermon, but Xabi was already striding to his room. Before Mikel could catch up, Xabi closed the door and locked it.
Xabi undressed, threw himself on the bed and pulled the cover above his head. Silence, finally.
Until, of course, Mikel came walking in and Xabi cursed that their bedrooms were linked by an adjoining bathroom and he forgot to lock that door. Again. (Mikel had the unfortunate luck of walking in Xabi’s room at the most inopportune moments. How do you think he discovered that Xabi was gay and dating this boy Steven Gerrard?)
“Tell me,” Mikel nagged in that annoying singsong tone.
“Go away, I’m off to sleep,” Xabi mumbled under the covers.
“I’m not leaving until you spill,” Mikel said persistently, poking Xabi’s butt through the duvet.
“It’s nothing, okay?” Xabi rolled over and sat up exasperatedly. “I’m just taking some tutorials with my friend.”
“Yeah, and if there wasn’t a juicy secret behind that, you would’ve told me that so much more easily,” Mikel raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Who’s this friend?”
“Just... someone.”
Mikel smiled wryly, “Stalling isn’t going to help you, Xabier.”
Xabi let himself fall back down on the mattress, “Fine. It was Harry Kewell, okay?”
Xabi shut his eyes as he heard Mikel gasp then whoop out loud. “No frickin’ way. Harry Kewell? The Australian? Is he still on the team? The last you told me of him was when he got injured.” Mikel rattled off.
“Mikel, stop gushing over Harry.”
“Well, I did like him, you know,” Mikel said. Most of other Xabi’s friends and teammates were too wild and rambunctious. “Didn’t you two use to hang out a lot? He was always over here after school and training. What happened?”
“Er,” Xabi played with a stray thread on his pillow case. “Stevie happened.”
Mikel laughed sardonically and clapped. “I love it. It’s like a telenovela.”
“Good night, Mikel.”
“Good night.” Mikel thankfully stood up this time and bounded out the bedroom. “And keep me updated, Xabs!”
*
“Hey,” a deep voice whispered in Xabi’s ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Xabi whirled around, a little breathless.
“Missed me?” Stevie asked, grinning.
“Oh, Stevie,” Xabi’s smile faltered a little. “It’s you.”
“Who did you think it would be?” Stevie joked, but the comment sent a guilty pang to Xabi’s heart.
“Sorry, I’m just a little out of it today. I didn’t get much sleep,” Xabi hurriedly changed the topic.
“Where were you?” Stevie asked, and they began walking to the cafeteria for lunch. “I tried calling your house last night but Mikel said you still weren’t home.”
Xabi snapped. “I had tutorials, okay?”
Stevie looked taken aback. “Wow, you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Xabi sighed as he apologized again, “Sorry, it’s Mikel. He’s been giving me a hard time about being out all the time.”
“Do you really need that many extra lessons?” Stevie asked, looking a little concerned. “You can’t be doing worse than me in maths. I swear, Mr Moyes hates me.”
“I barely got a passing grade in the midterms, so I’m trying to compensate as much as possible before this marking period ends,” Xabi explained, pushing open the lunchroom door for both of them.
“I guess so,” Stevie shrugged, letting go of the issue. If there was anything Xabi was touchy about, it was his grades. “But you will still be there for training later, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Xabi smiled sincerely for the first time in the conversation. “First game of the season and it’s at home to Chelsea. I can’t wait!”
Stevie smiled back at him, and they made their way to the snaking line. A group of freshmen were huddled over and chatting by the end of the line. One of them looked up, caught sight of the two midfielders and sort of yelped. He nudged his friends and nodded toward the older jocks, and they all moved away obediently, making way for them.
Stevie grinned haughtily and moved up the line. Xabi glanced at them apologetically, before hurrying after the captain.
“Stevie! They were in line first.”
“They gave way,” Stevie said, unaffected. Xabi sighed. Since when did everything suddenly seem so grating?
“Beef steak and orange soda, right?” Stevie asked him, plucking a food tray and a beverage for the Basque even before he agreed. Xabi heaved a sigh again. And since when did everything seem so routine?
“No, I want apple juice today,” Xabi blurted out.
Stevie looked at him strangely before shrugging and replacing the drink. They paid for their lunches before carefully making their way through the crowded cafeteria to the table where their teammates were. It was difficult to miss: the best table smack right in the centre of the room, loud and teeming.
“Anyway, maybe we could hang out today,” Stevie was saying and it was only partially making sense to Xabi who was out of it. “We haven’t gone out in a while.”
Xabi nodded noncommittally, “Sure.”
“We could chill at my house later after training,” Stevie said, not even asking for Xabi’s agreement.
“Yeah, whatever you say,” Xabi replied dully, stifling a yawn.
They settled down in the middle seats of the large table, their friends already up to their usual banter.
“I flunked my exam!” Carra bellowed.
“Which one?” Dirk asked cheekily.
“French! It was so dreadful. It was like, death by conjugation,” Carra moaned.
“You should have seen Carra this morning,” Stevie joined in. “Mr Wenger had to stop him halfway through the oral exam to ask him if he knew the slightest thing about French.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he was very happy when I said I wanted France to win the World Cup in 06.”
Penns added, “If you haven’t heard Scouse-French, you haven’t heard anything at all.”
“Oy, it’s not just us Scousers! You just wait until those Spanish lads have to take Wenger.”
“Xabi nailed the finals,” Stevie pointed out.
Carra rolled his eyes, “That’s Xabi. He could be the human Babelfish if he wanted to.”
Xabi grinned, but continued to poke half-heartedly at his food.
“Ah, wait until Fernando takes that class. Then we can all give him stick for his Spanish-French.”
Fernando looked up, with that perfected wide-eyed and innocent expression. “I’m good in French kissing, does that count?”
“Well, you’ll pass your orals with flying colours then,” Dan replied with a lopsided grin, and the two kids stared at each other shamelessly.
Xabi sighed to himself. He could just be at the library now, catching some much-deserved shut-eye. Until he felt a heavy clap on his back.
“Look alive, Alonso!”
“Hey!” Finns was the first to speak up. “If it isn’t Harry Kewell!”
The table erupted into cheers, hellos and questions of whether the Australian had plans of rejoining the team. Xabi, however, sat there looking a bit dazed. The cheek of that boy to walk up to their table-Xabi had to bite back a smile.
“I just dropped by to say a quick hi to everyone,” Harry was saying, waving to the older boys, nodding to the new signings and briefly resting his gaze on an amused Xabi. They shared a quick smile, before Harry turned back to the team, “Anyway, I’m off. My friend’s waiting for me.”
“See you, Kewell,” Carra chorused with the others, and Harry strode off to a table not very far away. He sat down next to this girl, Sheree.
“If I know, Harry’s putting the moves on her,” Riise said in a hushed tone. “I keep seeing them together.”
“Yeah, I heard that rumour too,” Finns confirmed and they all chuckled to themselves, betting how long it would take Harry to nail her.
“My friend said they caught them making out in the janitor’s closet down the Houllier wing,” Lucas said, wide-eyed.
Xabi gritted his teeth, sneaking a glance at Harry and Sheree, heads close and talking softly to each other. Before he could control himself, he blurted out, “I don’t believe it. I bet there’s nothing’s between them.”
The team stopped chattering. “How would you know?” Stevie asked, forehead furrowing.
“Fernando told me they were just seatmates in English,” the lie effortlessly slipped out of Xabi’s mouth, and the Spaniard had to wonder when he became so good at lying.
Stevie switched his scrutinizing glance over to Fernando, and the kid stammered, “Uh, yeah. Harry told me they were seatmates and Sheree even lets him copy her assignments and all.”
Stevie didn’t look convinced, but he just nodded slowly. Xabi glared at Fernando, who retaliated by giving him a quick kick to the shins.
“Anyway,” Crouch broke the uncharacteristic silence, “First game of the season next week, yeah? We should thrash those London rent boys.”
The team started again instantly, talking animatedly about their upcoming clash with Chelsea. Everyone in school was already talking about it. Carra and Stevie busied themselves with briefing the team about Terry and Lampard, who they played with in the under-18s national team.
Xabi heaved a sigh of relief as he went back to moping. He casually craned his neck, pretending to look for someone in the cafeteria and ‘unintentionally’ letting his gaze drift over Harry and Sheree’s table. A spark of irritation flashed in his gut as he watched Sheree throw her head back and laugh completely unrealistically at whatever Harry had just said.
Xabi fumed and dug his mobile out of his messenger bag. His fingers flew over the keypad as he quickly typed out a message.
‘So, you and Sheree, huh?’
A quick beep, and Xabi discreetly read the message, cautiously tilting his phone so Stevie wouldn’t be able to peek if he tried to.
‘So, you and Stevie, huh?’
Oh. Right.
Xabi frowned and tossed his phone on the table in resignation, the mobile clattering against the plastic table top.
“You okay, babe?” Stevie wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in close, looking a bit concerned.
Xabi smiled warmly, “Oh no, it’s nothing. My phone’s just fucking up again.”
Lie #2. Too easy.
Stevie nodded and went back to his ongoing conversation with Carra and Sami.
Half a scoop of mashed potatoes later, Xabi’s phone buzzed again. The Spaniard had to smile as he saw Harry’s name in his inbox again.
‘Are we still meeting up for tonight? I’ve missed you.’
Xabi felt a sickening flutter in his stomach. He looked up and caught Harry’s gaze. The Australian winked at him cheekily, before returning to his conversation with Sheree.
Xabi grinned to himself and quickly typed in his reply.
‘We should.’ Xabi paused, unsure, but threw caution to the wind anyway. ‘But I’m bored now.’
Xabi tapped his feet nervously, not knowing how Harry would reply to his obviously open-ended message.
Harry opened the message underneath the table and when he read the message, he felt a hot blush creeping up his neck.
‘What are you thinking of, Alonso?’
A few agonizing minutes and a million glances at his mobile, Xabi finally replied.
‘I hear the janitor’s closet is private enough.’
Harry cursed underneath his breath as he felt a tingling in his gut. Fucking Spaniards. Do they culturally just breed that kind of unabashed sex appeal? He texted under the table so Sheree wouldn’t see.
‘Give me two minutes.’
Xabi deleted the message and slid the phone in his pocket, struggling to keep a poker face despite the buzzing anticipation inside him.
“Stevie?” Xabi coughed lightly. The captain immediately cut off his sentence and looked at his boyfriend, “Yeah?”
“I just forgot my Physics book in the locker. I’ll just run off and get it, alright?”
Third lie in a row. He was getting the hang of this.
Stevie nodded and smiled, “No problem.”
Xabi smiled back, hands meticulously straightening out his blazer and tie, “Save my seat. This won’t be long.”
*
“Remind me again why Mr Ferguson had to assign us ten chapters of new readings a week before the exam?” Fernando ran his hands tiredly through his hair as Dan and him piled up their photocopied books in their arms.
“And why were the books we needed all the way in the Manchester freaking Library?” Fernando continued ranting, as the two struggled out of the library, holding the door open with a foot as they tried to barrel out without dropping any of their things.
“For the first question, well, because Fergie’s really just that evil,” Dan said, stuffing his stack of readings inside his backpack. “And for the second question, are you even surprised? It’s so bloody obvious Mr Ferguson’s a Manc.”
Fernando sighed as they walked down the streets to the train station in the corner. He checked his watch, “Damn, I didn’t realize it was so late. I hope I don’t get locked out of the dorm.”
“Nah, I think the tube will be empty now, so travel won’t be as tedious as this afternoon,” Dan tried to assure the striker.
They filed down the stairs and got themselves tickets. True enough, the station was almost deserted except for a few people milling around wearily.
“Ten stops away from Liverpool,” Fernando sighed, pouting at Dan.
Dan grinned, trying to tear his eyes away from those lips. He slung a casual arm around Fernando’s waist and ushered him to the trains, “Come on then, Torres, let’s get you home.”
*
The dull sound of wheels running on tracks slowly lulled Fernando to sleep, his body completely exhausted after this afternoon’s double training session and his mind totally drained because of their History cramming session.
Tiredly, he let his head fall against the cool metal of the pole, the gentle swaying of the train carriage slowly coaxing Fernando to close his eyes.
Dan leaned against the wall of the car, watching the Spaniard intently. Of course he wasn’t thinking of illicit thoughts as Fernando wrapped his arm around the pole. And of course it completely didn’t affect Daniel how Fernando’s eyes were closed and his forehead was lightly creased and his movement was languid.
Dan shifted, trying to concentrate elsewhere: the other passengers drifting to sleep or engrossed in their own matters, the posters on the train, the number of stops left. But all he could stare at was the striker, with his necktie loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt undone and his hair unkempt.
“Fuck it,” Dan said to no one in particular. Taking long but careful strides to avoid losing his balance, he closed the distance between him and the Spaniard.
Fernando looked up, dazed, before smiling, “Hey.”
Dan’s brain was going on overdrive and his senses were attuned to every one of his movements: like how his hand casually held on to the pole just atop Fernando’s, fingers brushing lightly. Fernando looked at their touching hands and tried to look unaffected, but Dan saw his eyes widen slightly and his disposition become more attuned.
Dan lifted his other hand and tucked the Spaniard’s hair behind his ear, before leaning down to whisper, “Roughly fifteen people in this train, Niño,” Dan sensed Fernando shiver, “What do you think are the chances they’re watching what we’re doing?”
Fernando’s breath hitched, and he stared up at Daniel under thick lashes. All he could say was, “Fucking hell, Daniel.”
Dan manoeuvred so Fernando was trapped between his body and pushed against the metal pole. “Better?” He asked cheekily.
“Fucking. Hell. Daniel.” Fernando said again, his words crisp and low and up close, Dan observed a thin layer of sweat forming just above Fernando’s upper lip.
The train swayed and went over bumps, the movement causing Dan to stumble forward, pressing their bodies together accidentally. Fernando let out a small moan at the slightest friction, and he wondered why he was this easy tonight.
Dan didn’t move away after falling closer to Fernando. Instead, he let his lips brush lightly over the Spaniard’s jawline.
“You tease,” Fernando breathed, and Dan smirked against his freckled skin.
“Fine,” Dan said, pulling away and facing Fernando straight. The Spaniard didn’t flinch this time. He just stared at Daniel, then raised one cocky eyebrow.
“Well?”
Well, bloody hell, Dan wasn’t going to back down from that kind of challenge.
Burying a hand through Fernando’s hair and tugging him close, Dan crashed their lips together and it was like this overwhelming wave of thankyougodfinally before it gave way to the tangy taste of fuckthisboycankiss.
Fernando was the first to pull away-but only inches away, if not centimetres-and he ran his fingers over Dan’s lips, as if entranced. Then, he smirked and looked up at the defender. “On the train? You kissed me on the train?”
Dan broke into a genuine laugh. “This is the only place where our teammates can’t sabotage us.”
Fernando craned his neck backward, surveying the rest of the car. Most of the passengers were either asleep or gazing out the window. There was a girl in the far side of the train looking highly amused and an old couple sitting just a few metres away from them, jaws dropped, completely aghast.
The couple saw Fernando looking at them and they shook their heads, tutting and whispering between themselves. Fernando rolled his eyes and looked back at Dan, “I think this may count as a public display of indecency, Agger.”
Dan followed Fernando’s gaze and laughed too. “No, for it to be indecent, I’d have to do this-” Fernando gasped in shock as Dan pressed against him completely now, every turn of the train, every slight movement brought their heated bodies grinding.
Fernando buried his face into the nook of Dan’s neck and breathed out a moan. The hot breath sent tingles down Dan’s spine. The Dane bit back a groan and instead pushed his leg in between Fernando’s so he could feel his excitement against his thigh. Fernando whimpered and let his head fall back against the pole in pleasure, and Dan swore he hardened even more at the sight.
“You had to kiss me in a public place?” Fernando muttered testily, trying to control himself, fingers digging in deliciously on Dan’s hip.
“I just wanted to test your restraint,” Dan teased, letting a hand roam inside Fernando’s blazer, tracing his abs through the thin, white button-down.
Fernando smiled mischievously, bringing his arms around Dan’s neck and pulling him down to meet his lips again. “Well, test my restraint now. You have only three more stops to go.”
Meep, sorry. I really have no idea what Liverpool or Manchester (or England, for that matter) is really like. I just made up buildings and trains and entire frickin' worlds here. Ohai, creative licence.
Apologies as well because this was terribly crammed. My flight's in a couple of hours. I just wanted to leave you guys the update I promised this week, so you won't forget me while I'm gone. ♥