You say love is a temple, love the higher law
Title: Collision Course (6/13)
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso/Harry Kewell, Steven Gerrard/Fernando Torres
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 | Part 5
We’re one, but we’re not the same. We hurt each other and we do it again.
“Fancy lunch?”
Xabi’s face broke into a grin. Just what he needed after a dreary series of morning lectures: a certain Harry Kewell waiting for him just outside his Biology class.
“Well, if it isn’t two of my best students,” said Mrs Eriksson, an old plump woman with a kindly face.
“It’s in the teacher, Ma’am,” Harry winked, opening the door for the Biology professor.
“Mr Kewell, always the charmer,” Mrs Eriksson pretended to roll her eyes as she walked away, but it was obvious she was biting back a chuckle.
Xabi playfully shoved the Australian, “You’re slimy, Harry.”
Harry smirked, “That’s not what you said last night.”
The Basque burned a bright red as he looked around, making sure no one could overhear them. But the hallway was bustling with students too busy heading to their lockers or heading to the canteen.
“So what do you say to lunch, Alonso?” Harry tugged Xabi’s tie to get his attention.
Xabi bit his lip as the two began walking side-by-side. “Hanging out together in the middle of the cafeteria isn’t exactly the most subtle thing to do.”
“Who said I was talking about the cafeteria?” Harry grinned as made a quick turn down the corridor leading to the school’s entrance.
“Wha-Harry!” Xabi stood rooted on the spot, staring at Harry, aghast. “That’s...” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “That’s cutting class.”
“Er, yeah.” Harry shrugged in confusion, “So?”
“Cutting is against the rules?” The Spaniard retorted adamantly.
“Not if they don’t find out,” Harry grinned cheekily, clasping his hand around Xabi’s wrist and dragged him along. “I’ve got study period after lunch anyway. They don’t check attendance there.”
“Yeah, and I have gym,” Xabi yanked his hand away.
“Xabs, you could cut every gym class and still get a A. You’re on the football team. It’s an unwritten rule.”
Xabi shook his head. Harry rolled his eyes and said rather bitterly, “How do you think Stevie and Carra get away with so much shit? Gym is their free cut.”
The Basque shifted from foot to foot, still reluctant.
Harry tried again, smiling sweetly, “Just this once?”
Xabi sighed. “Fine.” The word sounded ominous in its concession, but he threw all caution to the wind. He followed Harry as they quietly crept down the hallways.
“Don’t they lock the front doors during school hours?” Xabi hissed as they neared the entrance.
Harry didn’t even stop walking. He just brought out a silver key from his pocket, slipped it into the lock and the door effortlessly swung open with a simple push.
“You were saying?”
Xabi spluttered, “Wha-How did you-?”
“Connections.” Harry had the decency to smile sheepishly. “I dated the hall monitor once.”
Shaking his head, Xabi pushed the Australian outside and the two quickly ran across the lawn. They didn’t stop running until they got to the street corner and Xabi doubled over because he had started laughing so hard.
“Why are you laughing?” Harry demanded breathlessly.
Xabi regained his composure, “That was insane!” He exclaimed excitedly.
Harry took his hand as they crossed the street. He shot Xabi an amused grin, “Just stay with me, Alonso. I knew you had that bit of a devil in you.”
Xabi grinned back, “So, where are we going?” He asked brightly, before pointing to a far corner, “There’s a McDonald’s down the road.
Harry threw back his head and laughed, and for a split-second, Xabi was mesmerized with the way Harry’s eyes twinkled happily and how his skin glistened perfectly under the harsh noon sun. (And though he didn’t like comparing, he always thought Stevie’s eyes were just a little too squinty and he never really saw what they looked like when he laughed. And his skin was kind of just whitish and pale and never that shade of glowing.)
“We escape school for lunch and all you want is fast food?” Harry was saying.
“What’s wrong with that?” Xabi protested, “I like my chicken nuggets!”
Harry kissed Xabi’s cheek, “I’ll get you your chicken nuggets some other time, babe.” He looked up and down the road before nodding towards the new upscale city square. “Let’s find a decent restaurant over there.”
Xabi’s eyes widened, “Harry! It’s too expensive there.”
“My treat, come on!” Harry was already striding towards the gleaming row of establishments.
“But-” Xabi tried to argue.
“Table for two?” The mitre’d was already asking and Harry nodded. A waiter led them to a table by the window and opened the menu for both of them before bowing out.
“Isn’t this a bit too much?” Xabi asked, eyes running over the pricey items on the menu, then the plush decor of the restaurant.
“Come on, Xabi, this is the only time I get to take you out-the only time you’ll allow me to take you out,” Harry corrected, cheeks red in embarrassment as he mumbled behind his menu. “At least let me do something nice for you. I just thought you deserved something more than Advanced Algebra tutorials you don’t really need and rushed meetings inside the janitor’s closet.”
Xabi couldn’t stifle the giddy grin threatening to split his face wide open, so he hid his face behind the menu too, staring at the appetizer listing like it held the meaning to life. “Thanks,” he babbled incoherently and he was sure he was blushing like a schoolgirl on a first date.
Under the table, their legs pressed against each other accidentally as Harry shifted in his seat, but neither made an attempt to move away.
“But you know,” Harry broke the silence that had settled between them, mischievous eyes meeting Xabi’s eyes for the first time, “You can still make out with me in the janitor’s closet anytime. I’m not complaining.”
*
“Lunch is almost over,” Alvaro glanced at his watch and frowned, “Have you guys seen Xabi? I was going to copy his homework.”
The boys all looked at Stevie expectantly. He shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t know.”
Riise snickered, “Well, that’s a first.”
Stevie smacked the back of his head playfully, “I haven’t seen him the entire day, to be frank.”
Riise gasped, “The world as we know it is coming to an end!”
“I saw him rushing out of Bio right before the break,” Lucas piped up. “He seemed really preoccupied with something.”
Stevie nodded, “Yeah, he’s been really busy lately, so give him a break.”
Fernando shifted queasily, sending a quick text message to Harry asking where he was and he had better hope he wasn’t with Xabi or else. When he looked up from his mobile, Dan was glancing at him with a questioning look. Fernando looked away immediately.
The lunch bell rang, cutting short their conversation. The group reluctantly started standing up.
“A few more hours until freedom,” Carra rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Easy for you to say,” Finns scowled. “I have a double Physics period this afternoon.”
“Well, don’t wipe yourself out, la.” Carra clapped his back sternly. “Training later.”
“Oh, let him,” Arbeloa interrupted. “If he gets rotated out of the squad, I get to play.”
“Dream on, Arbeloa. I’m going to start for Chelsea,” The Irishman retorted.
“You know my idea,” Alvaro wagged his eyebrows like their coach, “I have enough kwaality, no?”
The group burst out laughing, but Stevie cut them all off. “Now come on, lads. If any of you get detention because you’re late and you miss training, I’m telling Rafa to drop you,” he instructed authoritatively, herding the grumbling squad inside.
Fernando followed the pack, but he felt a heavy grip on his arm. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Daniel had been pestering him all morning.
“Oy, you two!” Crouch hollered at the striker and defender, “Aren’t you both coming inside?”
“We’ll be there in a while,” Dan called out for the both of them, hand tightening around Fernando’s shoulder.
Crouch shook his head and nudged Kuyt. “I’ll bet you a tenner those two are macking each other.”
When the others were a good few metres ahead of them, Dan slung his arm around Fernando’s neck as they slowly walked down the lawn.
“I was wondering when you’d stop ignoring me,” Dan whispered to the Spaniard’s ear. Fernando tried to protest indignantly, but he flinched the moment Dan pressed a kiss to his neck.
“I haven’t been ignoring you,” Fernando said.
“Oh, please, you spent the entire break stubbornly squeezed between Pepe and Alvaro and I know you hate that because Alvaro’s bony and Pepe always filches off your food.”
Fernando’s jaw dropped, “I was just-”
“Ignoring me,” Dan completed smugly.
The Spaniard opened his mouth to hit back but Dan continued, “Was it because you thought things would be awkward after we kissed?” The defender smirked mockingly. “Or that it would be complicated?”
Fernando pursed his lips tightly and looked away.
“You’re such a woman, Torres,” Dan laughed triumphantly and grabbed Fernando to himself. The courtyard was empty now, all students having entered the main wing.
Fernando let himself fall against Dan’s strong chest, but he huffed at him, “I don’t know why I thought things would change. You’re obviously still an ass.”
“Yeah,” Dan tilted Fernando’s chin up, “And you like me for it.”
He dipped his head and captured Fernando’s lips into a deep kiss, eager to taste the Spaniard on his tongue again, as if last night’s encounter on the train had been too far off.
Fernando let his eyes drift open slowly as they broke apart to catch their breaths. He licked his lips, finding the taste of Dan still lingering on them. “Correction,” the striker smirked, “I don’t like you.” He extracted himself from Dan’s tight embrace, “I only like kissing you. There’s a difference.”
Dan’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he broke out into a cocksure chuckle, “Whatever you say, Torres.” He opened the door and ushered in Fernando by the waist. “Now come on, the bell rang ages ago.”
Fernando looked up at Dan in bemusement. “What are you doing?”
If Dan was embarrassed, he didn’t show it. He just played with his backpack’s straps, “What does it look like? I’m walking you to class.”
The striker put a hand on his waist and appraised Dan with a smug smile. “Daniel Agger, do you like me??”
Dan groaned and no composure could hide his blushes now. “Your class is on the way to mine, that’s all, okay? Stop acting like an idiot.”
“Really?” Fernando grinned evilly. He glanced up and down the now-deserted hallway before advancing on to Dan until he was cornered against the lockers. He kissed Dan lightly on the lips, then down to his Adam’s apple, then to the last stretch of skin on his neck before his collar and top button.
Dan laughed airily, “I don’t like you, Torres. That’s insane.” He struggled to keep his thoughts on track at the fluttering sensations of the Spaniard’s lips expertly breathing over his skin.
“Are you sure about that?” Fernando asked again, continuing a steady trail of light kisses over Dan’s shirted chest down to his stomach. Dan dared to look down and immediately regretted it. He swallowed a groan as Fernando quickly dropped to his knees to press a chaste kiss on his groin, through the cloth of his trousers. So what if Fernando’s lips were only really barely making contact with the fabric of Dan’s clothing? Dan had a wild imagination, thank you very much.
“Okay, so maybe you’re not all that bad.” Dan panted out, yanking Fernando to his feet before he lost all self-control.
“Nuh-uh,” Fernando entwined an arm around Dan’s neck and his fingers played with the thick brown hair. “I think you fancy me something terrible, Danny.”
He pressed their bodies together and with his other hand, he grabbed Dan’s wrist. Never breaking their locked, heavy gazes, Fernando guided Dan’s hand down his chest, fingers raking over the flat plane. Dan tore his eyes away from the Spaniard because he had to watch this happen: Fernando brought Dan’s hand down between their bodies and made him clutch the hardening erection between his legs. Fernando buried his face into the crook of Dan’s neck and moaned shamelessly. Dan followed suit a few seconds later as the striker slowly-very slowly-thrust up into Dan’s grip.
“You were saying?” Fernando pulled away with a smug grin on his lips.
“You make a good case, but I’ll have to think about it,” Dan could barely muster as his mouth was completely dry.
Fernando seemed contented with the answer because he grinned at Dan triumphantly. “I’ve been told I can be very... convincing,” he winked, patting Dan’s cheek. Then, turning on his heel, he entered his classroom, leaving Dan an incoherent mess outside.
*
“Mr Carragher,” Prof Robinson’s voice rang clearly through the classroom.
“Shit,” Carra whispered to Stevie who was slumped beside him. “Did you read the assigned chapter for today?”
The younger Scouser shook his head discreetly, “Good luck, mate.”
“Yes, sir?” Carra cleared his throat.
“What do you think Shakespeare meant when he said ‘Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark?’” Mr Robinson asked, leaning on the teacher’s table, a well-worn copy of Hamlet opened in his hands.
Carra was utterly dumbfounded as he stared back blankly at Mr Robinson.
“Mr Carragher?” The English professor prodded expectantly.
“Er,” Carra stammered, stomping harshly on a chuckling Stevie’s foot. “I’m still organising my thoughts, sir. May I answer later?”
Stevie was trying to stifle his laughter so badly, his shoulders were shaking. He hid behind his notebook as Mr Robinson blinked in surprise.
“Oh. Er. Well, yes, okay.” Mr Robinson blathered, “I guess we’ll get back to you then. In the meantime,” he surveyed the class, and the students immediately averted their gazes and pretended to be busy so they could avoid being called. “Ah, Mr Gerrard seems like he wants to say something.”
Stevie went from wiping away tears of laughter to gasping in surprise.
“Ha! Take that ye git!” Carra could be heard hissing loudly.
“Mr Carragher,” Mr Robinson called out warningly. Carra’s mouth snapped shut and he sank low on his seat. But a vindictive grin played on his lips as Stevie miserably shuffled to his feet.
“Sir, what was the question?” Stevie asked, trying to stall as much as possible as he frantically opened his novel and looked for the section Mr Robinson was discussing.
“Shakespeare said ‘Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark.’ How do you interpret this?” Mr Robinson asked, smiling encouragingly at the boy.
“Well,” Stevie coughed, “I think Shakespeare meant that...” He trailed off, letting his eyes wander around the class, hoping for a hint from his classmates. No such luck. “That something was... wrong? In the state of Denmark?” Stevie answered sheepishly.
Mr Robinson sighed. “Mr Gerrard, could you be more specific?”
Stevie cleared his throat and tried to sound confident, “Sir, I interpret it to meant that Shakespeare thought that something was wrong in the state of Denmark, er, specifically.”
The whole class snorted in unison.
“Mr Gerrard,” the professor rubbed his temples tiredly, “Have you even began reading Hamlet?”
Stevie hesitated. He’s read the blurb at the back. That counted, right?
Fortunately, a knock came at the door and the familiar bald head and bearded grin of Rafa poked in. The class tittered excitedly. Everyone knew the first game of the season was only a few more days away. In fact, tickets were already sold out.
“Mr Robinson, is it okay if I borrow your student for a while?” Rafa asked in his heavily-accented English. “I need to discuss something very important with Stevie.”
Stevie smiled proudly. Oh, how he loved being captain. He was on a first-name basis with Rafa, arguably the most popular member of Anfield High’s faculty. He grinned at all his classmates as they peered at him curiously and jealously.
Mr Robinson nodded and motioned for Stevie to come forward.
“Mr Gerrard, please get started on your work,” The professor said sternly. Stevie nodded. Mr Robinson pat his shoulder heartily, “And you win us that game on Saturday.”
The professor turned to the class and clapped loudly to get their attention back to the novel. “People, let’s have Mr Carragher again, please. I assume you’re done ‘organising your thoughts.’”
Carra yelped, “Unfair! Stevie got to leave!”
“He’s captain.”
“I’m vice-captain,” Carra tried his luck, but Mr Robinson shook his head and motioned for Carra to stand up. “Now, onto Shakespeare, Mr Carragher!
*
Stevie entered the manager’s office tentatively. Rafa seemed extremely preoccupied, head bent down over a stack of papers, computer whizzing as it recorded the squad’s health statistics.
The Scouser coughed quietly. Rafa looked up, “Ah, Stevie, you’re here. Sit down,” he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Stevie nodded and took his seat in the old chair, sinking on the dilapidated cushion, rusty springs squeaking with every move.
“The Chelsea game is up,” Rafa capped his pen and folded his hands on the table, “And you know my idea: we have to win the midfield battle. They have Lampard and Ballack, maybe. And Makalele going defensive, and also Mikel could be used, no?”
Stevie nodded, ticking off the long list of available midfielders and wingers Chelsea could start with. The manager continued, “I promised you last year I wouldn’t make you play on the right anymore. And with the squad we have, I can see we need to be in a 4-4-2 formation for the weekend.”
The captain tried to peer at the varied sketches and graphs and team sheets scattered on Rafa’s desk, trying to figure out the diagrams from upside-down.
“Since you’re playing in the middle, I want to know who you want to work with. I asked you this in the beginning of the school year, but I want to know if you’ve changed your mind-”
“Rafa,” Stevie interrupted as politely as he could. “You know I still choose Xabi.”
Rafa nodded slowly. “I thought you’d say that. You do not think Javier can do it?”
Stevie gnawed on his bottom lip, “Masch has been massive, I’ve been a fan since day one.”
“Yes, and he’s improved a lot since,” Rafa pointed out.
“But Xabi-”
“-Has been suffering a bad patch of form,” Rafa filled in, no-nonsense.
“-Has been mu midfield partner for a long time and I still work better with him,” Stevie countered vehemently.
Rafa sighed. “Yes, I know, Stevie. But are you certain Xabi can give 10% to the game? He’s seemed a bit... unfocused lately.”
Stevie’s forehead furrowed. Sure, he knew Xabi had been acting strange as of late, but it was an entirely different matter if Rafa had started noticing it too.
“Unfocused?” Stevie asked, genuinely surprised.
“Poorer performances, slower times, fewer shots,” Rafa made one or two circles on a batch of statistics on his file.
The Scouser shrugged, “As we said, it may just be a bad patch of form.”
“And he’s been late to training frequently, always seeming rushed. Distracted.”
Stevie tried to laugh it off again, “Rafa, you know Xabi. He’s just been focusing much harder on his academics lately.”
Rafa raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well, I went to his gym class a couple of moments ago to talk to him about this issue, and he wasn’t there.”
Stevie blinked, still smiling as the news completely flew over his head. “I’m sorry?”
“Xabi wasn’t in class,” Rafa stated simply.
Stevie laughed, but it sounded hollow. “That’s impossible.”
Rafa rubbed his goatee, “It seems like you aren’t aware about the matter then. I was hoping you knew something about it so you could help me.”
“No, sir,” Stevie answered slowly, waiting for the words to sink in. “He hasn’t told me anything about it.”
Rafa leaned back on his chair, “You see, it might be acceptable for me to excuse Xabi’s form if it were because of his studies.” He raised a warning finger, “But if it’s because of other reasons and even his academics are suffering, I’ll have to find someone to take his place. It’s only fair since Javier is performing extremely well, and the only thing keeping him on the bench is your choice of a partner.”
Stevie gulped uneasily but nodded, “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him that.”
Rafa nodded, “Okay, thank you. You may go.”
Stevie shakily got to his feet. Halfway out the door, he turned and asked Rafa, “So, you’re dropping Xabi?”
Rafa’s fingers drummed the wood of his desk and the clacking sound was all that could be heard as the coach contemplated. “Are you sure you’d rather have Xabi over Javier?”
The captain answered without batting an eyelash. “I’m sure.”
*
Xabi pulled away from Harry and checked the dusty old clock hanging in the janitor’s crowded closet.
“You have to get to class,” he told Harry.
“Shoot,” Harry answered, prying himself reluctantly off the Basque. “I should go ahead if I want to slip in the classroom before the bell rings.”
Xabi nodded, fixing Harry’s dishevelled hair for him. “Thanks for lunch.”
“No problem,” Harry bit his lip unsurely. “We should do it again?” He trailed off so it was more a question than a suggestion.
Xabi smiled wryly. “Maybe. Now go,” he said, lightly pushing Harry out. The Australian grinned and with one last peck on Xabi’s cheek, he carefully pushed open the door. Surveying the hallway to ensure no one saw him, he slipped out and quietly ran off to his class.
Meanwhile, Xabi waited for the bell to ring a while later and when he was sure the corridors were at their busiest, he discreetly left the janitor’s closet and eased into the slipstream of students, smiling proudly at himself. But when he turned the corner and approached his locker, his stomach dropped.
Stevie was waiting for him, eyes cold and face steely.
“Hi, Stevie,” Xabi greeted as brightly as he could.
“Where have you been?” was the gruff reply.
The Spaniard’s eyes widened in surprise, but he tried to compose himself immediately. “Gym class,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Don’t lie to me, Xabi,” Stevie said, arms crossed over his chest, expression unchanging.
Xabi’s blood ran cold and he went on the defensive. “Look, I don’t need to tell you everything,” he hissed, trying to make his way to his locker.
“Since when?” Stevie snapped back, blocking Xabi’s path.
“Since always!” Xabi shouted, getting edgier by the second. A few passing students peered at the two jocks curiously. Xabi lowered his voice a notch but the venom in it was still strong, “You’re only my boyfriend, Stevie.”
Stevie looked as if he’d been slapped and his voice contorted into anger. He drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders, “Yeah, and I’m also you’re captain, Alonso.”
Xabi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So? What has that got to do with anything?”
Stevie smiled sardonically. “Everything.”
The Spaniard stared at Stevie, allowing himself to feel a little doubt for a second. The Scouser never flaunted his captaincy to the team before, especially off-pitch. That was reserved for bitter enemies.
“Rafa went to your gym class and found you hadn’t bothered attending,” Stevie said coldly.
Xabi tried not to blush at being caught with a blatant lie and asked instead, “What did he say?”
“He’d rather give Masch a chance over you given your recent performances and now, this.” Stevie relayed the information, and this time, his tone was gentler.
Xabi gaped in horror. “He dropped me?!”
Stevie sighed and shook his head. “He thought about it.”
Xabi exhaled a gush of air he didn’t know he was holding in. “Thank fucking god!” Xabi laughed in pure relief, “What stopped him?”
“Me.” Stevie wasn’t even cracking a smile. “Who else?”
Xabi froze. “He asked you to choose your midfield partner, didn’t he?”
Stevie didn’t reply, just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest tightly.
“You know I’m not gonna fuck up on Saturday,” Xabi promised, looking straight into Stevie’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around the captain gratefully.
But Stevie wasn’t hugging back either. Xabi pulled away and glanced at the Scouser in confusion.
“Where were you?”
Xabi gaped silently. He hadn’t thought of what would happen if he got caught. “Stevie,” Xabi stammered, staring at Stevie helplessly.
“When did we start lying to each other?” Stevie asked, the pain starting to crack into his voice. It was evident now that this wasn’t just a minor issue of Xabi cutting class or slacking off in the squad.
“I-I was going to tell you, but-”
“You told your captain,” Stevie snickered more at himself, “But you weren’t willing to tell your boyfriend.”
“Stevie, that’s not true,” Xabi pleaded quietly, but Stevie shook his head. Pushing himself off the bank of lockers, he brushed Xabi away. “If you’re late to training again, you’re doing extra laps, Alonso.”
*
“Well, what’s up your ass?” Carra smacked Stevie on the back of the head. “You missed half your shots in training, la!”
Stevie didn’t even flinch. He just glared at his long-time friend, “Leave me alone, Carra.”
Carra sighed. Only one person could make Stevie such a basket-case. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I hope you two sort it out then.”
Stevie stopped unlacing his boots, and gave Carra a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Now, come on. This’ll cheer you up,” Carra said, yanking Stevie to his feet and dragging him to where Riise and Sami were snickering in a corner.
“What’s going on?” Stevie asked in bewilderment.
Riise motioned him to come closer and the four huddled together.
“We’re trying to figure out whether there’s something going on between those two kids,” Sami snickered, nodding discreetly to where Dan and Fernando were talking quietly to themselves on the far end of the bench.
“You’re all insane-” Stevie yelped, laughing for what seemed like the first time that afternoon.
“Shh, shut up, you idiot,” RIise said. Stevie glared at him. He was still captain of course. Riise grinned sheepishly and rephrased it, “I meant, we have to be stealth and ninja if we want to create a foolproof plan.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Nothing complicated,” Carra shrugged, “We all just know for a fact what a jealous, possessive bastard Agger is.”
Stevie’s eyes widened and he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling out loud. “No way.”
“Yeah, and since we all fancy not having our faces done in or our ankles broken in a ‘mistimed tackle,’ we thought we should look for an accomplice who Dan wouldn’t dare touch,” Sami explained. “And that’s where you come in, captain.”
“And because we were tired of you acting like a soppy git,” Carra added.
“That too,” RIise nodded. “See? It’s the perfect plan.”
“But it’s already so bleedin’ obvious they’re together.” Stevie pointed out sarcastically, “Even Yossi knows. Yossi thought Xabi and I were best friends.”
“Yeah, but their press release is that they’re ‘only History partners.’” Carra snickered, “That’s almost as bad the we’re-just-midfield-partners pack of lies you and Xabi kept dishing out years ago.”
Stevie frowned at the mention of Xabi’s name and the reminder of times that were infinitely rosier. So he just nodded and threw his hands up in the air, “Oh, what the heck? Fine.”
Riise, Sami and Carra broke the huddle, cheering among themselves.
Stevie took a deep breath. He hadn’t flirted in a good two years, he may be rusty.
Dan and Fernando had now broken apart, Fernando was standing by his locker, and Dan-oh, shit-Dan was already padding to the shower. Carra motioned frantically for Stevie to hurry up before Dan missed the show and the whole plan fell to pieces.
Stevie panicked and did the only flirty thing he could think of that would catch both Fernando and Dan’s attention: He let out a loud wolf-whistle as Fernando was whipping off his muddy training kit.
Carra slapped his forehead so loudly, Stevie heard the smack of skin on skin. From the corner of his eye, he could just catch Sami hiding his head in his jersey and Riise mouthing the words ‘EPIC FAIL!’
But a certain Danish defender did stop his steps and did turn around to check what the fuss was all about. And Stevie had to grin at himself. In all fairness to his whistling abilities then.
At first Dan thought the guys were just mucking about, when he paused on the way to the shower to check who the hell still wolf-whistled in this decade-and in the squad’s changing room. What he saw, however, made his hands instinctively roll into fists. Stevie went to his locker, right next to Fernando’s and his eyes-it couldn’t be missed-swept thoroughly up and down Fernando’s sweaty, half-naked body.
(And of course Dan knew what Stevie was doing by the simple movement of his eyes because he’s done the same thing countless times too.-He couldn’t be blamed. The fitness coach was strict with Fernando and it worked wonders.)
And the fucking Scouser didn’t even have the decency to stop there. He casually placed his hand on the Spaniard’s waist-too lightly that it seemed to caress and too low for Dan’s liking. Dan was balling his fists so hard, his fingernails dug into his palms.
“W-what are you doing?” Fernando asked nervously. Of course he’s heard of that lecherous, tricky thing called ‘captain’s favours,’ but he’s never worried about that since Stevie and Xabi practically had the keys to each other’s chastity belts.
“Shh,” Stevie said with a secretive grin, and then he leaned forward. Fernando’s breath hitched as he felt Stevie’s lips roam near his ear.
“Do you want to know how far Dan will go for you?” Stevie teasingly whispered.
Fernando burned a bright red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-” he mumbled and began to move away, but Stevie’s hand clenched tightly around his waist to keep him in place.
“Because right now, he’s frozen on the spot in the middle of the changing room looking like an idiot. All thoughts of his shower seems to be the last thing on his mind right now,” Stevie continued whispering, and he angled his head closer, lower so it seemed more intimate.
And what Fernando did, said, betrayed him. “He is?” The boy asked breathlessly.
Stevie grinned, “Of course he is.” He tightened his hand around Fernando’s waist to pull him closer, and with the other, he mischievously ran a finger down Fernando’s slick back, tracing the spine, directly in front of Dan.
“Fucking hell, Stevie,” Fernando tried not to squirm under Stevie’s touch. Of course, it was just play-acting. But, you try remaining stoic with those ministrations.
Stevie grinned as he tentatively took a step forward, effectively closing the distance between them, “Sorry, Nando, my game’s off. I haven’t done this in years.”
“Don’t worry,” Fernando said, looking at a spot just above Stevie’s shoulder, feeling uncomfortable at being that close to his captain and his friend’s almost husband. He tried to steady his breathing, “You’re doing fine.”
“Now come on,” Stevie took Fernando’s hand, “Let’s pretend we’re going to the showers together. It’d be a crime to leave Dan just standing there.”
Fernando ducked his head so Dan wouldn’t see him biting back a huge bellow of laughter as they made their way to the door leading to the shower room. At first, it seemed like the plan had backfired, but a few steps into the showers, they heard a loud voice calling them angrily.
“Hey,” Dan boomed, striding up to the two and clamping a hand over Stevie’s shoulder, harshly pulling him away from Fernando, “What’s going on here?”
Stevie met Dan’s glare with a nonchalant smile. “We’re off to take a shower.”
“The two of you?” Dan demanded, throwing a possessive arm around Fernando’s shoulders.
Stevie glanced at the gesture briefly and raised an eyebrow at the blushing Spaniard. Trying to keep a straight face, Stevie retorted at Dan, “Yeah. You have a problem with that?”
There. Direct confrontation.
Dan burned a bright red, his lips pursed together, as he looked torn about how to respond. He stepped away from Fernando and went up to Stevie-so close their noses bumped-“Outside, Gerrard.”
Fernando’s jaw dropped as he watched Dan stalk outside and as Stevie proceeded to follow him. “Stevie, you better end this right now or he’s really going to beat you up for sure.”
Stevie grinned and waved away Fernando’s anxious warnings. “Hey, I can handle Agger. I’m big and fucking ‘ard, remember?”
*
Stevie had barely closed the locker room door when Dan yanked him by the collar into the corridor and shoved him against the wall. Grunting at the dull pain that spread through his back, Stevie gritted his teeth and immediately advanced on Daniel and grabbing the front of his jersey, viciously tugged him forward.
“You touch me like that again, Agger, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” Stevie warned furiously. Although Dan was inches taller, the Scouser’s body was a tank.
Agger seethed, “I can fucking do your head in, Gerrard.”
“Oh, you’re squaring up to your captain?” Stevie taunted, but before Dan could answer, he continued, “Because when we got Harry to flirt with Finns to see how you would react, you just walked away.” Stevie allowed himself a light chuckle, “And that was Kewell. Doesn’t take much to get him injured. Yossi could take Kewell.”
Then it all crashed down on Daniel. His cheeks were a brighter shade of red than his kit.
“Fuck you, Stevie. Fuck you. And Carra and Sami and Ginger, because I’m sure they put you up to this.”
Stevie couldn’t keep it reined in anymore as he doubled over laughing. “You should have bloody seen your face, Agger!” Stevie taunted in between fits of laughter.
Dan growled and he swore he wanted to do Stevie’s head in now more than before. “You’re a bastard!”
Stevie shook his head and dried his tears. He clapped Dan’s back good-naturedly, “I think you really like him, ‘fess up,” he teased in a singsong tone. He slung an arm around Dan’s shoulder and winked cheekily, “But seeing Fernando up close, it’s not hard to see why.”
Dan pushed him away, “You shut your mouth.”
Stevie continued devilishly (and strategically, because he knew Dan would never respond to the direct questioning), “You know, I would tap that ass.”
Dan turned livid. “If you in so much as try, captain or no captain, I’m gonna fucking break your right foot.” He reached out to grab the Scouser, but Stevie was too quick and he scampered down the corridor with Dan hightailing after him, yelling, “You’re not tapping anything, you saggy tit!”
I obviously still need to build up on the Chelsea game. I promise, there's a reason why I keep mentioning it. It's just taking longer to get to that point than I expected, but it's all planned out now. I wanted to continue writing but this chapter was getting too lengthy and I was itching to get posting again.
Oh, and I totally forgot, but the last installation was for my favourite slavedrivers, aguardente and ladykillertofu who have been asking me for updates.
This one is for nadi_wamos and reima who both thought I was dead.
I missed you all too, too much. ♥
P.S. parallelkites, I'm stumped with my Sernando. Or at least the smutty parts. Gimme hooker sex prompts! :( And no, of course I don't think you're a sleaze. *smiles innocently*
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso/Harry Kewell, Steven Gerrard/Fernando Torres
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 | Part 5
We’re one, but we’re not the same. We hurt each other and we do it again.
“Fancy lunch?”
Xabi’s face broke into a grin. Just what he needed after a dreary series of morning lectures: a certain Harry Kewell waiting for him just outside his Biology class.
“Well, if it isn’t two of my best students,” said Mrs Eriksson, an old plump woman with a kindly face.
“It’s in the teacher, Ma’am,” Harry winked, opening the door for the Biology professor.
“Mr Kewell, always the charmer,” Mrs Eriksson pretended to roll her eyes as she walked away, but it was obvious she was biting back a chuckle.
Xabi playfully shoved the Australian, “You’re slimy, Harry.”
Harry smirked, “That’s not what you said last night.”
The Basque burned a bright red as he looked around, making sure no one could overhear them. But the hallway was bustling with students too busy heading to their lockers or heading to the canteen.
“So what do you say to lunch, Alonso?” Harry tugged Xabi’s tie to get his attention.
Xabi bit his lip as the two began walking side-by-side. “Hanging out together in the middle of the cafeteria isn’t exactly the most subtle thing to do.”
“Who said I was talking about the cafeteria?” Harry grinned as made a quick turn down the corridor leading to the school’s entrance.
“Wha-Harry!” Xabi stood rooted on the spot, staring at Harry, aghast. “That’s...” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “That’s cutting class.”
“Er, yeah.” Harry shrugged in confusion, “So?”
“Cutting is against the rules?” The Spaniard retorted adamantly.
“Not if they don’t find out,” Harry grinned cheekily, clasping his hand around Xabi’s wrist and dragged him along. “I’ve got study period after lunch anyway. They don’t check attendance there.”
“Yeah, and I have gym,” Xabi yanked his hand away.
“Xabs, you could cut every gym class and still get a A. You’re on the football team. It’s an unwritten rule.”
Xabi shook his head. Harry rolled his eyes and said rather bitterly, “How do you think Stevie and Carra get away with so much shit? Gym is their free cut.”
The Basque shifted from foot to foot, still reluctant.
Harry tried again, smiling sweetly, “Just this once?”
Xabi sighed. “Fine.” The word sounded ominous in its concession, but he threw all caution to the wind. He followed Harry as they quietly crept down the hallways.
“Don’t they lock the front doors during school hours?” Xabi hissed as they neared the entrance.
Harry didn’t even stop walking. He just brought out a silver key from his pocket, slipped it into the lock and the door effortlessly swung open with a simple push.
“You were saying?”
Xabi spluttered, “Wha-How did you-?”
“Connections.” Harry had the decency to smile sheepishly. “I dated the hall monitor once.”
Shaking his head, Xabi pushed the Australian outside and the two quickly ran across the lawn. They didn’t stop running until they got to the street corner and Xabi doubled over because he had started laughing so hard.
“Why are you laughing?” Harry demanded breathlessly.
Xabi regained his composure, “That was insane!” He exclaimed excitedly.
Harry took his hand as they crossed the street. He shot Xabi an amused grin, “Just stay with me, Alonso. I knew you had that bit of a devil in you.”
Xabi grinned back, “So, where are we going?” He asked brightly, before pointing to a far corner, “There’s a McDonald’s down the road.
Harry threw back his head and laughed, and for a split-second, Xabi was mesmerized with the way Harry’s eyes twinkled happily and how his skin glistened perfectly under the harsh noon sun. (And though he didn’t like comparing, he always thought Stevie’s eyes were just a little too squinty and he never really saw what they looked like when he laughed. And his skin was kind of just whitish and pale and never that shade of glowing.)
“We escape school for lunch and all you want is fast food?” Harry was saying.
“What’s wrong with that?” Xabi protested, “I like my chicken nuggets!”
Harry kissed Xabi’s cheek, “I’ll get you your chicken nuggets some other time, babe.” He looked up and down the road before nodding towards the new upscale city square. “Let’s find a decent restaurant over there.”
Xabi’s eyes widened, “Harry! It’s too expensive there.”
“My treat, come on!” Harry was already striding towards the gleaming row of establishments.
“But-” Xabi tried to argue.
“Table for two?” The mitre’d was already asking and Harry nodded. A waiter led them to a table by the window and opened the menu for both of them before bowing out.
“Isn’t this a bit too much?” Xabi asked, eyes running over the pricey items on the menu, then the plush decor of the restaurant.
“Come on, Xabi, this is the only time I get to take you out-the only time you’ll allow me to take you out,” Harry corrected, cheeks red in embarrassment as he mumbled behind his menu. “At least let me do something nice for you. I just thought you deserved something more than Advanced Algebra tutorials you don’t really need and rushed meetings inside the janitor’s closet.”
Xabi couldn’t stifle the giddy grin threatening to split his face wide open, so he hid his face behind the menu too, staring at the appetizer listing like it held the meaning to life. “Thanks,” he babbled incoherently and he was sure he was blushing like a schoolgirl on a first date.
Under the table, their legs pressed against each other accidentally as Harry shifted in his seat, but neither made an attempt to move away.
“But you know,” Harry broke the silence that had settled between them, mischievous eyes meeting Xabi’s eyes for the first time, “You can still make out with me in the janitor’s closet anytime. I’m not complaining.”
*
“Lunch is almost over,” Alvaro glanced at his watch and frowned, “Have you guys seen Xabi? I was going to copy his homework.”
The boys all looked at Stevie expectantly. He shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t know.”
Riise snickered, “Well, that’s a first.”
Stevie smacked the back of his head playfully, “I haven’t seen him the entire day, to be frank.”
Riise gasped, “The world as we know it is coming to an end!”
“I saw him rushing out of Bio right before the break,” Lucas piped up. “He seemed really preoccupied with something.”
Stevie nodded, “Yeah, he’s been really busy lately, so give him a break.”
Fernando shifted queasily, sending a quick text message to Harry asking where he was and he had better hope he wasn’t with Xabi or else. When he looked up from his mobile, Dan was glancing at him with a questioning look. Fernando looked away immediately.
The lunch bell rang, cutting short their conversation. The group reluctantly started standing up.
“A few more hours until freedom,” Carra rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Easy for you to say,” Finns scowled. “I have a double Physics period this afternoon.”
“Well, don’t wipe yourself out, la.” Carra clapped his back sternly. “Training later.”
“Oh, let him,” Arbeloa interrupted. “If he gets rotated out of the squad, I get to play.”
“Dream on, Arbeloa. I’m going to start for Chelsea,” The Irishman retorted.
“You know my idea,” Alvaro wagged his eyebrows like their coach, “I have enough kwaality, no?”
The group burst out laughing, but Stevie cut them all off. “Now come on, lads. If any of you get detention because you’re late and you miss training, I’m telling Rafa to drop you,” he instructed authoritatively, herding the grumbling squad inside.
Fernando followed the pack, but he felt a heavy grip on his arm. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Daniel had been pestering him all morning.
“Oy, you two!” Crouch hollered at the striker and defender, “Aren’t you both coming inside?”
“We’ll be there in a while,” Dan called out for the both of them, hand tightening around Fernando’s shoulder.
Crouch shook his head and nudged Kuyt. “I’ll bet you a tenner those two are macking each other.”
When the others were a good few metres ahead of them, Dan slung his arm around Fernando’s neck as they slowly walked down the lawn.
“I was wondering when you’d stop ignoring me,” Dan whispered to the Spaniard’s ear. Fernando tried to protest indignantly, but he flinched the moment Dan pressed a kiss to his neck.
“I haven’t been ignoring you,” Fernando said.
“Oh, please, you spent the entire break stubbornly squeezed between Pepe and Alvaro and I know you hate that because Alvaro’s bony and Pepe always filches off your food.”
Fernando’s jaw dropped, “I was just-”
“Ignoring me,” Dan completed smugly.
The Spaniard opened his mouth to hit back but Dan continued, “Was it because you thought things would be awkward after we kissed?” The defender smirked mockingly. “Or that it would be complicated?”
Fernando pursed his lips tightly and looked away.
“You’re such a woman, Torres,” Dan laughed triumphantly and grabbed Fernando to himself. The courtyard was empty now, all students having entered the main wing.
Fernando let himself fall against Dan’s strong chest, but he huffed at him, “I don’t know why I thought things would change. You’re obviously still an ass.”
“Yeah,” Dan tilted Fernando’s chin up, “And you like me for it.”
He dipped his head and captured Fernando’s lips into a deep kiss, eager to taste the Spaniard on his tongue again, as if last night’s encounter on the train had been too far off.
Fernando let his eyes drift open slowly as they broke apart to catch their breaths. He licked his lips, finding the taste of Dan still lingering on them. “Correction,” the striker smirked, “I don’t like you.” He extracted himself from Dan’s tight embrace, “I only like kissing you. There’s a difference.”
Dan’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he broke out into a cocksure chuckle, “Whatever you say, Torres.” He opened the door and ushered in Fernando by the waist. “Now come on, the bell rang ages ago.”
Fernando looked up at Dan in bemusement. “What are you doing?”
If Dan was embarrassed, he didn’t show it. He just played with his backpack’s straps, “What does it look like? I’m walking you to class.”
The striker put a hand on his waist and appraised Dan with a smug smile. “Daniel Agger, do you like me??”
Dan groaned and no composure could hide his blushes now. “Your class is on the way to mine, that’s all, okay? Stop acting like an idiot.”
“Really?” Fernando grinned evilly. He glanced up and down the now-deserted hallway before advancing on to Dan until he was cornered against the lockers. He kissed Dan lightly on the lips, then down to his Adam’s apple, then to the last stretch of skin on his neck before his collar and top button.
Dan laughed airily, “I don’t like you, Torres. That’s insane.” He struggled to keep his thoughts on track at the fluttering sensations of the Spaniard’s lips expertly breathing over his skin.
“Are you sure about that?” Fernando asked again, continuing a steady trail of light kisses over Dan’s shirted chest down to his stomach. Dan dared to look down and immediately regretted it. He swallowed a groan as Fernando quickly dropped to his knees to press a chaste kiss on his groin, through the cloth of his trousers. So what if Fernando’s lips were only really barely making contact with the fabric of Dan’s clothing? Dan had a wild imagination, thank you very much.
“Okay, so maybe you’re not all that bad.” Dan panted out, yanking Fernando to his feet before he lost all self-control.
“Nuh-uh,” Fernando entwined an arm around Dan’s neck and his fingers played with the thick brown hair. “I think you fancy me something terrible, Danny.”
He pressed their bodies together and with his other hand, he grabbed Dan’s wrist. Never breaking their locked, heavy gazes, Fernando guided Dan’s hand down his chest, fingers raking over the flat plane. Dan tore his eyes away from the Spaniard because he had to watch this happen: Fernando brought Dan’s hand down between their bodies and made him clutch the hardening erection between his legs. Fernando buried his face into the crook of Dan’s neck and moaned shamelessly. Dan followed suit a few seconds later as the striker slowly-very slowly-thrust up into Dan’s grip.
“You were saying?” Fernando pulled away with a smug grin on his lips.
“You make a good case, but I’ll have to think about it,” Dan could barely muster as his mouth was completely dry.
Fernando seemed contented with the answer because he grinned at Dan triumphantly. “I’ve been told I can be very... convincing,” he winked, patting Dan’s cheek. Then, turning on his heel, he entered his classroom, leaving Dan an incoherent mess outside.
*
“Mr Carragher,” Prof Robinson’s voice rang clearly through the classroom.
“Shit,” Carra whispered to Stevie who was slumped beside him. “Did you read the assigned chapter for today?”
The younger Scouser shook his head discreetly, “Good luck, mate.”
“Yes, sir?” Carra cleared his throat.
“What do you think Shakespeare meant when he said ‘Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark?’” Mr Robinson asked, leaning on the teacher’s table, a well-worn copy of Hamlet opened in his hands.
Carra was utterly dumbfounded as he stared back blankly at Mr Robinson.
“Mr Carragher?” The English professor prodded expectantly.
“Er,” Carra stammered, stomping harshly on a chuckling Stevie’s foot. “I’m still organising my thoughts, sir. May I answer later?”
Stevie was trying to stifle his laughter so badly, his shoulders were shaking. He hid behind his notebook as Mr Robinson blinked in surprise.
“Oh. Er. Well, yes, okay.” Mr Robinson blathered, “I guess we’ll get back to you then. In the meantime,” he surveyed the class, and the students immediately averted their gazes and pretended to be busy so they could avoid being called. “Ah, Mr Gerrard seems like he wants to say something.”
Stevie went from wiping away tears of laughter to gasping in surprise.
“Ha! Take that ye git!” Carra could be heard hissing loudly.
“Mr Carragher,” Mr Robinson called out warningly. Carra’s mouth snapped shut and he sank low on his seat. But a vindictive grin played on his lips as Stevie miserably shuffled to his feet.
“Sir, what was the question?” Stevie asked, trying to stall as much as possible as he frantically opened his novel and looked for the section Mr Robinson was discussing.
“Shakespeare said ‘Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark.’ How do you interpret this?” Mr Robinson asked, smiling encouragingly at the boy.
“Well,” Stevie coughed, “I think Shakespeare meant that...” He trailed off, letting his eyes wander around the class, hoping for a hint from his classmates. No such luck. “That something was... wrong? In the state of Denmark?” Stevie answered sheepishly.
Mr Robinson sighed. “Mr Gerrard, could you be more specific?”
Stevie cleared his throat and tried to sound confident, “Sir, I interpret it to meant that Shakespeare thought that something was wrong in the state of Denmark, er, specifically.”
The whole class snorted in unison.
“Mr Gerrard,” the professor rubbed his temples tiredly, “Have you even began reading Hamlet?”
Stevie hesitated. He’s read the blurb at the back. That counted, right?
Fortunately, a knock came at the door and the familiar bald head and bearded grin of Rafa poked in. The class tittered excitedly. Everyone knew the first game of the season was only a few more days away. In fact, tickets were already sold out.
“Mr Robinson, is it okay if I borrow your student for a while?” Rafa asked in his heavily-accented English. “I need to discuss something very important with Stevie.”
Stevie smiled proudly. Oh, how he loved being captain. He was on a first-name basis with Rafa, arguably the most popular member of Anfield High’s faculty. He grinned at all his classmates as they peered at him curiously and jealously.
Mr Robinson nodded and motioned for Stevie to come forward.
“Mr Gerrard, please get started on your work,” The professor said sternly. Stevie nodded. Mr Robinson pat his shoulder heartily, “And you win us that game on Saturday.”
The professor turned to the class and clapped loudly to get their attention back to the novel. “People, let’s have Mr Carragher again, please. I assume you’re done ‘organising your thoughts.’”
Carra yelped, “Unfair! Stevie got to leave!”
“He’s captain.”
“I’m vice-captain,” Carra tried his luck, but Mr Robinson shook his head and motioned for Carra to stand up. “Now, onto Shakespeare, Mr Carragher!
*
Stevie entered the manager’s office tentatively. Rafa seemed extremely preoccupied, head bent down over a stack of papers, computer whizzing as it recorded the squad’s health statistics.
The Scouser coughed quietly. Rafa looked up, “Ah, Stevie, you’re here. Sit down,” he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Stevie nodded and took his seat in the old chair, sinking on the dilapidated cushion, rusty springs squeaking with every move.
“The Chelsea game is up,” Rafa capped his pen and folded his hands on the table, “And you know my idea: we have to win the midfield battle. They have Lampard and Ballack, maybe. And Makalele going defensive, and also Mikel could be used, no?”
Stevie nodded, ticking off the long list of available midfielders and wingers Chelsea could start with. The manager continued, “I promised you last year I wouldn’t make you play on the right anymore. And with the squad we have, I can see we need to be in a 4-4-2 formation for the weekend.”
The captain tried to peer at the varied sketches and graphs and team sheets scattered on Rafa’s desk, trying to figure out the diagrams from upside-down.
“Since you’re playing in the middle, I want to know who you want to work with. I asked you this in the beginning of the school year, but I want to know if you’ve changed your mind-”
“Rafa,” Stevie interrupted as politely as he could. “You know I still choose Xabi.”
Rafa nodded slowly. “I thought you’d say that. You do not think Javier can do it?”
Stevie gnawed on his bottom lip, “Masch has been massive, I’ve been a fan since day one.”
“Yes, and he’s improved a lot since,” Rafa pointed out.
“But Xabi-”
“-Has been suffering a bad patch of form,” Rafa filled in, no-nonsense.
“-Has been mu midfield partner for a long time and I still work better with him,” Stevie countered vehemently.
Rafa sighed. “Yes, I know, Stevie. But are you certain Xabi can give 10% to the game? He’s seemed a bit... unfocused lately.”
Stevie’s forehead furrowed. Sure, he knew Xabi had been acting strange as of late, but it was an entirely different matter if Rafa had started noticing it too.
“Unfocused?” Stevie asked, genuinely surprised.
“Poorer performances, slower times, fewer shots,” Rafa made one or two circles on a batch of statistics on his file.
The Scouser shrugged, “As we said, it may just be a bad patch of form.”
“And he’s been late to training frequently, always seeming rushed. Distracted.”
Stevie tried to laugh it off again, “Rafa, you know Xabi. He’s just been focusing much harder on his academics lately.”
Rafa raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well, I went to his gym class a couple of moments ago to talk to him about this issue, and he wasn’t there.”
Stevie blinked, still smiling as the news completely flew over his head. “I’m sorry?”
“Xabi wasn’t in class,” Rafa stated simply.
Stevie laughed, but it sounded hollow. “That’s impossible.”
Rafa rubbed his goatee, “It seems like you aren’t aware about the matter then. I was hoping you knew something about it so you could help me.”
“No, sir,” Stevie answered slowly, waiting for the words to sink in. “He hasn’t told me anything about it.”
Rafa leaned back on his chair, “You see, it might be acceptable for me to excuse Xabi’s form if it were because of his studies.” He raised a warning finger, “But if it’s because of other reasons and even his academics are suffering, I’ll have to find someone to take his place. It’s only fair since Javier is performing extremely well, and the only thing keeping him on the bench is your choice of a partner.”
Stevie gulped uneasily but nodded, “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him that.”
Rafa nodded, “Okay, thank you. You may go.”
Stevie shakily got to his feet. Halfway out the door, he turned and asked Rafa, “So, you’re dropping Xabi?”
Rafa’s fingers drummed the wood of his desk and the clacking sound was all that could be heard as the coach contemplated. “Are you sure you’d rather have Xabi over Javier?”
The captain answered without batting an eyelash. “I’m sure.”
*
Xabi pulled away from Harry and checked the dusty old clock hanging in the janitor’s crowded closet.
“You have to get to class,” he told Harry.
“Shoot,” Harry answered, prying himself reluctantly off the Basque. “I should go ahead if I want to slip in the classroom before the bell rings.”
Xabi nodded, fixing Harry’s dishevelled hair for him. “Thanks for lunch.”
“No problem,” Harry bit his lip unsurely. “We should do it again?” He trailed off so it was more a question than a suggestion.
Xabi smiled wryly. “Maybe. Now go,” he said, lightly pushing Harry out. The Australian grinned and with one last peck on Xabi’s cheek, he carefully pushed open the door. Surveying the hallway to ensure no one saw him, he slipped out and quietly ran off to his class.
Meanwhile, Xabi waited for the bell to ring a while later and when he was sure the corridors were at their busiest, he discreetly left the janitor’s closet and eased into the slipstream of students, smiling proudly at himself. But when he turned the corner and approached his locker, his stomach dropped.
Stevie was waiting for him, eyes cold and face steely.
“Hi, Stevie,” Xabi greeted as brightly as he could.
“Where have you been?” was the gruff reply.
The Spaniard’s eyes widened in surprise, but he tried to compose himself immediately. “Gym class,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Don’t lie to me, Xabi,” Stevie said, arms crossed over his chest, expression unchanging.
Xabi’s blood ran cold and he went on the defensive. “Look, I don’t need to tell you everything,” he hissed, trying to make his way to his locker.
“Since when?” Stevie snapped back, blocking Xabi’s path.
“Since always!” Xabi shouted, getting edgier by the second. A few passing students peered at the two jocks curiously. Xabi lowered his voice a notch but the venom in it was still strong, “You’re only my boyfriend, Stevie.”
Stevie looked as if he’d been slapped and his voice contorted into anger. He drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders, “Yeah, and I’m also you’re captain, Alonso.”
Xabi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So? What has that got to do with anything?”
Stevie smiled sardonically. “Everything.”
The Spaniard stared at Stevie, allowing himself to feel a little doubt for a second. The Scouser never flaunted his captaincy to the team before, especially off-pitch. That was reserved for bitter enemies.
“Rafa went to your gym class and found you hadn’t bothered attending,” Stevie said coldly.
Xabi tried not to blush at being caught with a blatant lie and asked instead, “What did he say?”
“He’d rather give Masch a chance over you given your recent performances and now, this.” Stevie relayed the information, and this time, his tone was gentler.
Xabi gaped in horror. “He dropped me?!”
Stevie sighed and shook his head. “He thought about it.”
Xabi exhaled a gush of air he didn’t know he was holding in. “Thank fucking god!” Xabi laughed in pure relief, “What stopped him?”
“Me.” Stevie wasn’t even cracking a smile. “Who else?”
Xabi froze. “He asked you to choose your midfield partner, didn’t he?”
Stevie didn’t reply, just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest tightly.
“You know I’m not gonna fuck up on Saturday,” Xabi promised, looking straight into Stevie’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around the captain gratefully.
But Stevie wasn’t hugging back either. Xabi pulled away and glanced at the Scouser in confusion.
“Where were you?”
Xabi gaped silently. He hadn’t thought of what would happen if he got caught. “Stevie,” Xabi stammered, staring at Stevie helplessly.
“When did we start lying to each other?” Stevie asked, the pain starting to crack into his voice. It was evident now that this wasn’t just a minor issue of Xabi cutting class or slacking off in the squad.
“I-I was going to tell you, but-”
“You told your captain,” Stevie snickered more at himself, “But you weren’t willing to tell your boyfriend.”
“Stevie, that’s not true,” Xabi pleaded quietly, but Stevie shook his head. Pushing himself off the bank of lockers, he brushed Xabi away. “If you’re late to training again, you’re doing extra laps, Alonso.”
*
“Well, what’s up your ass?” Carra smacked Stevie on the back of the head. “You missed half your shots in training, la!”
Stevie didn’t even flinch. He just glared at his long-time friend, “Leave me alone, Carra.”
Carra sighed. Only one person could make Stevie such a basket-case. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I hope you two sort it out then.”
Stevie stopped unlacing his boots, and gave Carra a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Now, come on. This’ll cheer you up,” Carra said, yanking Stevie to his feet and dragging him to where Riise and Sami were snickering in a corner.
“What’s going on?” Stevie asked in bewilderment.
Riise motioned him to come closer and the four huddled together.
“We’re trying to figure out whether there’s something going on between those two kids,” Sami snickered, nodding discreetly to where Dan and Fernando were talking quietly to themselves on the far end of the bench.
“You’re all insane-” Stevie yelped, laughing for what seemed like the first time that afternoon.
“Shh, shut up, you idiot,” RIise said. Stevie glared at him. He was still captain of course. Riise grinned sheepishly and rephrased it, “I meant, we have to be stealth and ninja if we want to create a foolproof plan.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Nothing complicated,” Carra shrugged, “We all just know for a fact what a jealous, possessive bastard Agger is.”
Stevie’s eyes widened and he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling out loud. “No way.”
“Yeah, and since we all fancy not having our faces done in or our ankles broken in a ‘mistimed tackle,’ we thought we should look for an accomplice who Dan wouldn’t dare touch,” Sami explained. “And that’s where you come in, captain.”
“And because we were tired of you acting like a soppy git,” Carra added.
“That too,” RIise nodded. “See? It’s the perfect plan.”
“But it’s already so bleedin’ obvious they’re together.” Stevie pointed out sarcastically, “Even Yossi knows. Yossi thought Xabi and I were best friends.”
“Yeah, but their press release is that they’re ‘only History partners.’” Carra snickered, “That’s almost as bad the we’re-just-midfield-partners pack of lies you and Xabi kept dishing out years ago.”
Stevie frowned at the mention of Xabi’s name and the reminder of times that were infinitely rosier. So he just nodded and threw his hands up in the air, “Oh, what the heck? Fine.”
Riise, Sami and Carra broke the huddle, cheering among themselves.
Stevie took a deep breath. He hadn’t flirted in a good two years, he may be rusty.
Dan and Fernando had now broken apart, Fernando was standing by his locker, and Dan-oh, shit-Dan was already padding to the shower. Carra motioned frantically for Stevie to hurry up before Dan missed the show and the whole plan fell to pieces.
Stevie panicked and did the only flirty thing he could think of that would catch both Fernando and Dan’s attention: He let out a loud wolf-whistle as Fernando was whipping off his muddy training kit.
Carra slapped his forehead so loudly, Stevie heard the smack of skin on skin. From the corner of his eye, he could just catch Sami hiding his head in his jersey and Riise mouthing the words ‘EPIC FAIL!’
But a certain Danish defender did stop his steps and did turn around to check what the fuss was all about. And Stevie had to grin at himself. In all fairness to his whistling abilities then.
At first Dan thought the guys were just mucking about, when he paused on the way to the shower to check who the hell still wolf-whistled in this decade-and in the squad’s changing room. What he saw, however, made his hands instinctively roll into fists. Stevie went to his locker, right next to Fernando’s and his eyes-it couldn’t be missed-swept thoroughly up and down Fernando’s sweaty, half-naked body.
(And of course Dan knew what Stevie was doing by the simple movement of his eyes because he’s done the same thing countless times too.-He couldn’t be blamed. The fitness coach was strict with Fernando and it worked wonders.)
And the fucking Scouser didn’t even have the decency to stop there. He casually placed his hand on the Spaniard’s waist-too lightly that it seemed to caress and too low for Dan’s liking. Dan was balling his fists so hard, his fingernails dug into his palms.
“W-what are you doing?” Fernando asked nervously. Of course he’s heard of that lecherous, tricky thing called ‘captain’s favours,’ but he’s never worried about that since Stevie and Xabi practically had the keys to each other’s chastity belts.
“Shh,” Stevie said with a secretive grin, and then he leaned forward. Fernando’s breath hitched as he felt Stevie’s lips roam near his ear.
“Do you want to know how far Dan will go for you?” Stevie teasingly whispered.
Fernando burned a bright red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-” he mumbled and began to move away, but Stevie’s hand clenched tightly around his waist to keep him in place.
“Because right now, he’s frozen on the spot in the middle of the changing room looking like an idiot. All thoughts of his shower seems to be the last thing on his mind right now,” Stevie continued whispering, and he angled his head closer, lower so it seemed more intimate.
And what Fernando did, said, betrayed him. “He is?” The boy asked breathlessly.
Stevie grinned, “Of course he is.” He tightened his hand around Fernando’s waist to pull him closer, and with the other, he mischievously ran a finger down Fernando’s slick back, tracing the spine, directly in front of Dan.
“Fucking hell, Stevie,” Fernando tried not to squirm under Stevie’s touch. Of course, it was just play-acting. But, you try remaining stoic with those ministrations.
Stevie grinned as he tentatively took a step forward, effectively closing the distance between them, “Sorry, Nando, my game’s off. I haven’t done this in years.”
“Don’t worry,” Fernando said, looking at a spot just above Stevie’s shoulder, feeling uncomfortable at being that close to his captain and his friend’s almost husband. He tried to steady his breathing, “You’re doing fine.”
“Now come on,” Stevie took Fernando’s hand, “Let’s pretend we’re going to the showers together. It’d be a crime to leave Dan just standing there.”
Fernando ducked his head so Dan wouldn’t see him biting back a huge bellow of laughter as they made their way to the door leading to the shower room. At first, it seemed like the plan had backfired, but a few steps into the showers, they heard a loud voice calling them angrily.
“Hey,” Dan boomed, striding up to the two and clamping a hand over Stevie’s shoulder, harshly pulling him away from Fernando, “What’s going on here?”
Stevie met Dan’s glare with a nonchalant smile. “We’re off to take a shower.”
“The two of you?” Dan demanded, throwing a possessive arm around Fernando’s shoulders.
Stevie glanced at the gesture briefly and raised an eyebrow at the blushing Spaniard. Trying to keep a straight face, Stevie retorted at Dan, “Yeah. You have a problem with that?”
There. Direct confrontation.
Dan burned a bright red, his lips pursed together, as he looked torn about how to respond. He stepped away from Fernando and went up to Stevie-so close their noses bumped-“Outside, Gerrard.”
Fernando’s jaw dropped as he watched Dan stalk outside and as Stevie proceeded to follow him. “Stevie, you better end this right now or he’s really going to beat you up for sure.”
Stevie grinned and waved away Fernando’s anxious warnings. “Hey, I can handle Agger. I’m big and fucking ‘ard, remember?”
*
Stevie had barely closed the locker room door when Dan yanked him by the collar into the corridor and shoved him against the wall. Grunting at the dull pain that spread through his back, Stevie gritted his teeth and immediately advanced on Daniel and grabbing the front of his jersey, viciously tugged him forward.
“You touch me like that again, Agger, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” Stevie warned furiously. Although Dan was inches taller, the Scouser’s body was a tank.
Agger seethed, “I can fucking do your head in, Gerrard.”
“Oh, you’re squaring up to your captain?” Stevie taunted, but before Dan could answer, he continued, “Because when we got Harry to flirt with Finns to see how you would react, you just walked away.” Stevie allowed himself a light chuckle, “And that was Kewell. Doesn’t take much to get him injured. Yossi could take Kewell.”
Then it all crashed down on Daniel. His cheeks were a brighter shade of red than his kit.
“Fuck you, Stevie. Fuck you. And Carra and Sami and Ginger, because I’m sure they put you up to this.”
Stevie couldn’t keep it reined in anymore as he doubled over laughing. “You should have bloody seen your face, Agger!” Stevie taunted in between fits of laughter.
Dan growled and he swore he wanted to do Stevie’s head in now more than before. “You’re a bastard!”
Stevie shook his head and dried his tears. He clapped Dan’s back good-naturedly, “I think you really like him, ‘fess up,” he teased in a singsong tone. He slung an arm around Dan’s shoulder and winked cheekily, “But seeing Fernando up close, it’s not hard to see why.”
Dan pushed him away, “You shut your mouth.”
Stevie continued devilishly (and strategically, because he knew Dan would never respond to the direct questioning), “You know, I would tap that ass.”
Dan turned livid. “If you in so much as try, captain or no captain, I’m gonna fucking break your right foot.” He reached out to grab the Scouser, but Stevie was too quick and he scampered down the corridor with Dan hightailing after him, yelling, “You’re not tapping anything, you saggy tit!”
I obviously still need to build up on the Chelsea game. I promise, there's a reason why I keep mentioning it. It's just taking longer to get to that point than I expected, but it's all planned out now. I wanted to continue writing but this chapter was getting too lengthy and I was itching to get posting again.
Oh, and I totally forgot, but the last installation was for my favourite slavedrivers, aguardente and ladykillertofu who have been asking me for updates.
This one is for nadi_wamos and reima who both thought I was dead.
I missed you all too, too much. ♥
P.S. parallelkites, I'm stumped with my Sernando. Or at least the smutty parts. Gimme hooker sex prompts! :( And no, of course I don't think you're a sleaze. *smiles innocently*