Ethical Madness

Damn it, my writing gets so awkward when I write a new pairing *sigh* Anyway, after five failed writing attempts on Word since January, I've spent this whole evening typing this up on the iPod without having written it anywhere else. It's longer than expected and I hope it makes some sort of sense. Opinions are very needed.

Title: Silence
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Disclaimer: Absolutely not true, nothing intended by it.
A/N: As I mentioned before on my lj, I thought it would give more depth to Xabi as a character if he would use Basque expressions instead of Spanish. I mean, Basques prefer using euskera before Spanish always, so I did a bit of
Googling and used three expressions:

Maite zaitut: I love you
Mesedez: Please
Maitasun: Love, used in this as an endearment.

Enjoy!

(I'm writing more on the iPod than I did when I wrote on the computer...huge mystery.)

The tie feels constricting around his neck when the act is over. Fernando is standing in front of him, head still bowed. Everyone looks solemn, lost in thought, thinking of those 96 lives snatched away. Two decades have passed but the memory lingers, a dull, faded heartache.
Carra's staring at the field. The silence around Anfield is almost deafening, heavy, grey. No one seems to be ready to move yet, let alone speak, and Stevie remains as silent as those surrounding him until he notices the empty spot next to Albert.

As motion returns and voices start to be heard, Steven leans towards Pepe.

"Where's Xabi?"

Fernando turns to look at them after he checks for himself that Xabi is indeed gone, a quizzical frown under his fringe.

Pepe shrugs his shoulders, his eyes fixed on Steven's.

"I think he went below. He probably needs a few minutes alone."

Fernando's biting his lip, as if he knows what the undertone in those two sentences means, but Steven feels clueless. Something's been different about Xabi for months, that much he knows. He's grown more and more silent, somewhat distant. He seems more tired lately, as if he's not getting enough sleep. All these changes in him started when Jon was born. Steven thought fatherhood had made Xabi different.

"What's going on with Xabi then?"

"Ask him. It's not my place to tell."

Pepe moves away and Carra, who has overheard the conversation, follows him after throwing a pointed glance at the entrance to the changing rooms.

"Nando, what the hell's going on?"

Fernando throws a worried look around them, his voice lowering to a whisper so soft that Steven has to move closer to hear him.

"Xabi is...hurting. He doesn't want us to notice but Pepe made him talk about it in the end."

"Why's he suffering? He's playing great, Rafa wants to renew his contract, Jon's a healthy and happy baby...is this about Nagore, are they having problems?"

"No, it's not about Nagore. It's not about football either. He needs you, captain. He needs you and you're always with me. He's my friend and he wouldn't tell me anything about how this makes him feel, but Pepe is not half as forgiving."

Realisation takes its time to sink in but after that it seems obvious. The undecipherable look in Xabi's eyes whenever they looked at each other, the way they didn't spend more than a few fleeting moments close to each other anymore, the hurt on Xabi's face whenever Steven took Fernando in his arms and held on tight...Xabi is jealous. Jealous and hurting.

"Of course, Xabi's too noble to say anything about it."

The anger in his voice startles Fernando and makes himself frown. He hadn't noticed the heat in his cheeks, the clenched fists, the quick rhythm of his heartbeat, pounding against his ribs.

His thoughts are chaotic, stumbling upon each other. He has to find Xabi. He has to find him and refrain from punching him, which is what he feels like doing. They have to talk and now's probably the worst moment to do it, but he slips away from Fernando, ignoring the worried look on the Spaniard's face.

He is stopped three times and he has to make polite small talk and shake hands before stammering a few excuses and almost throwing himself down the steps to the changing rooms. There's a guard in the tunnel, making his rounds, and he confirms that he saw Xabi a few minutes earlier.

It's quiet in the changing rooms, for once. On training and match days, the bustle is loud enough to deafen, between Pepe's booming voice and the laughter of the lads. No matter the outcome of the matches played on Anfield, there's hardly ever silence.

Xabi's sitting on one of the benches in front of the showers, looking far more comfortable in his suit than Steven will ever feel in his.

He looks up when he notices Steven staring at him, a half-smile curving his lips.

"I'm sorry for disappearing, Steven. I needed a few minutes alone. Too many thoughts, you know?"

"Like how jealous you are of Fernando? Those sort of thoughts?"

Xabi's face is blank, the smile vanishing. Steven knows his accent thickens when he's angry and for a moment he wonders whether Xabi has understood him but then the Basque's cheeks turn red and his eyes narrow.

"This is not the right time for this, Steven."

"You should've told me."

Xabi stands, not stepping into Steven's personal space.

"There's nothing to say."

Steven grabs Xabi's collar, twisting the expensive material under his fingers. The Basque doesn't try to pull away, eyes bright, daring, his hands on Steven's hips, a firm pressure.

"There's everything to say."

Xabi's lips open under his, beard rasping Steven's skin, his heated breath swallowed by his captain. They kiss almost violently because it's been more than a year and Steven doesn't understand how he's been able to go so long without touching this man, his man.

Xabi looks at him, eyes darker than usual, lips pink. The skin around Steven's mouth is red from Xabi's beard and Xabi's fingers caress it, settling over Steven's lips.

"We're not good with words, maitasun."

"No, but we need them anyway."

Xabi kisses along Steven's jaw, teeth nipping, tongue soothing, his fingers untying the knot of Steven's tie.

"I was jealous."

The whisper is hot, fanning over his neck and he almost tears Xabi's jacket off him, throwing it back on the bench.

"So fucking jealous."

A kiss to his neck, a tongue trailing a velvet trail from his throat down the curve to his shoulder, hands slipping his jacket off with an elegance Steven can't even aspire to have. He has to kiss him, has to feel him, has to take his clothes off and relearn every single curve and plain of his body.

There's no time for slow explorations now. There are thousands of people right above the changing rooms, anyone could suddenly wish to visit the innards of Anfield. It's the wrong place, the wrong moment, but it feels right. It's a sad day in the history of the club and he should be on the field, mingling, talking to everyone. He's the captain, but his duties have to wait.

After all their clothes are off, Xabi pulls him to one of the cabins and turns the water on over them.

There's slightly more privacy under the shower and the walls are plain. He presses Xabi to one of them, the Basque's long legs twining around his waist, only Steven's hands and the wall supporting him.

Steven's lips taste of Xabi. He presses their foreheads together, looking into Xabi's eyes, a meeting of deep brown and striking blue.

"He's my friend, Steven. Don't ever try to turn us against each other again. If it's him you want, then tell me. You can't have both of us at the same time."

"It's you, Xabi. It's only ever you. I was scared, scared that you'd end this once Jon arrived. I didn't want you to be forced to choose between me and being a good father."

Steven knows this is not the kind of conversation one should have while hard and aching, but the words slip out and judging by Xabi's face, he's expressed
himself coherently enough to make himself
understood.

Xabi's palm cups his cheek as the water sprays down over them with a sound that's louder than usual.

"You're a good father, Steven. I don't have to make a choice. I adore Jon. I love Nagore. I need you. Nothing's changed. Nothing will."

Xabi kisses him this time, pulling him even closer, as if he wants Steven to crawl under his skin.

It's too tight, too hot, too wet, too perfect. There's a flash of pain across Xabi's face as he bites his bottom lip, the same lip Steven sucks between his own to keep Xabi's mind off the discomfort. It's been too long and the preparation has been too swift, but Xabi's
body doesn't take too long to remember him.

Xabi buries his face in the crook of Steven's neck, panting, his fingers clutching at Steven's back.

"Please."

Steven bites into his shoulder and moves faster, harder, rougher, his hands leaving marks on Xabi's skin.

They drown the sounds of the splashing water with gasps, moans, half-formed pleas for more.

"Please, Stevie, please, captain. Mesedez. Please."

Steven swears loudly before claiming Xabi's mouth and thrusting upwards once more.

When he opens his eyes he realises that the water's been turned off and that the only sound is their heavy breathing. Xabi's shivering, his legs still around Steven, cold but not caring.

"Maite zaitut, Stevie."

He feels the words whispered against his cheek more than he hears them and he rests his forehead on Xabi's shoulder, remembering those same words written across his laptop screen when he'd googled euskera on a night on which he was missing Xabi.

"I love you too, Xabi."

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