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amor_loco in 13drabbles

Fandom: Real Person
Pairing: Steven Gerrard x Xabi Alonso
Theme set: Delta
Rating: Anywhere from G to M.
Notes: Gets somewhat graphic, explanation wise, in some parts, but there’s no full frontal sex in any of these which is a first for me, because I love smut, so never fear. Took me two days to finish these. I’m very proud of most of them, considering this is the first time of anything like this that I’ve done.

#1 – First Time. 114 words

It was hot and heavy and wrong but oh so right. Hips and lips and skin pressed onto places he didn’t even know had feeling, but they were feeling something now. Explosions behind eyelids and whispered promises against shoulder blades and inner thighs, ones that ripped the soul apart a thousand times whilst giving pleasure beyond anything ever experienced before. Sweat and spit and come mixing until everything tasted of salt and Stevie and Xabi and freshness - that bright, sparkly, shiny new feeling. They cried and laughed and grunted and climaxed, moving together in a way that neither of them would ever move together again. Each time together would be forever different then their first time.

#2 – Difference. 250 words

Stevie was the black to Xabi’s white, the wrong to Xabi’s right. He was hasty to Xabi’s hesitant. Impulsive to Xabi’s cautious. Sluggish to Xabi’s swift. He would answer in clipped, unorganized sentences that nobody could understand half the time because of his thick Scouse, whereas Xabi was structured and flowing and expansive. He didn’t want to have anyone confused about him. Steven couldn’t have cared less. Lying in bed one night, Xabi sleeping soundly by his side, he wondered if the differences could ever break them apart. If everything Stevie did wrong finally got to perfect, amazing, fantastically composed Xabi, and he got up and left, draining the colour and life out of Stevie. He felt cold fear gripping him, sweat breaking out on his naked arms and face, his chest heaving, as he began to have twisted fantasies about his life without Xabi. He didn’t notice those brown eyes opening slowly, and the head rising up from his pillow, confused and still half asleep.

“Stevie?” he whispered, breaking him from the nightmare. “Go back to sleep, Xabi.” He snapped, rolling over and curling up, trying not to cry. Xabi wouldn’t be around forever, he knew that. He just didn’t want to picture it just yet. He couldn’t picture it just yet. There was a pause, and then the bed creaked, a tanned arm sliding around his body, warm fingers lacing with cold ones. Lips pressed to a shoulder blade, and then…silence.

#3 – Similarity. 220 words

“Y’know, you and Alonso are more alike then you think.” Carra commented one evening, chucking a crisp into the air and chomping at them with his pearly whites. Stevie just rolled his eyes and took another swig of Carlsberg. He hated that brand, but being promotional and all, he couldn’t complain. At least not out loud. “Y’are!” he protested, watching his captain stretch out on his couch. “There’s nothing similar about us, Jamie. He’s a Spanish ex-captain who led Sociedad up from ruins and then scarpered here, God knows why. The man has never said a word in his life without thinking the whole conversation through, and every possible outcome and thing that could go wrong. We couldn’t be more different.” He said moodily, picking at the label on the bottle.

“And what? You’re an English captain who’s crashed and burned Liverpool and never thinks before doing anything? So you’re impulsive and in a slump - you’re still similar.” Carra replied, nodding. “How so, smartarse?” Stevie asked, finally snapping. “Well, for starters, you’re both madly in love with each other and won’t admit it. And when you finally DO admit it, you’ll be two blokes in love with each other. Is that enough?” He said, drumming his fingers against his stomach.

Stevie was speechless, for the first time in his life.

#4 – Eyes 506 words

“Eyes are the window to the soul, Stevie.” Xabi said, leaning closer to his captain one day in training. Stevie just rolled his baby blues and flopped down on the ground, waiting for Rafa to yell at him for slacking off. It was hot and he was sweaty, covered in grass and dirt, and exhausted from the brutal sessions being dished out. Two a day, they had risen to, with threats of three a day if there was any messing about. Anfield had become a sad sight indeed, the players running sprints, doing drills, passing and catching, even doing goalie training. Steven dreaded them the most. He was a horrible goalie, and barely managed to save one per session. “Rafa, I’m a bloody midfielder! I’m not meant to be stuck in a net!” He yelled, ducking a badly aimed ball from Peter, his hands around his head.

Rafa had just shook his head and walked off, barking orders at Luis and John to stop messing around. The boys looked at each other miserably and went back to their strike training. “Are they now, Xabi?” He said, looking up at the cloudy sky, wondering if it was going to rain. “Yes, Stevie. You can learn a lot through eyes. They hide nothing.” Xabi continued, his accent lilting and amused. “What’s so funny?” he asked, turning to the side, stretching his back. “My point is, how you say, right, with John and Luis. Luis’s eyes are always happy and sparkly around John, no? They do not have the same shine when he’s with us.” He said, gesturing lazily at the pair who had burst into hushed laughter, watching Peter trying to save goals, Pepe coaching him from the side. Stevie shrugged. “So he’s good mates with Riise, big deal.” He said.

Xabi shook his head. “No, Stevie. You do not look. If only you looked a little harder, you would see the truth.” He said, tugging Steven’s sleeve until he sat up. “Xabi…” he began, but Xabi shushed him and pointed. He sighed, rubbing his face, and stared at pair. He saw Luis look around, and then step closer to John, standing on his tiptoes to whisper something to the big man. His eyes widened as he saw John’s arm circle around the tiny Spaniard. “What the…” he said, turning to Xabi, whose face was barely centimeters away from his. “See. I told you.” He said, a smile on his face. “What about you, Xabi? What’s in your soul?” Stevie asked. Xabi blushed, and focused on him. “I am a very secretive person. You’ll have to look hard.” He said, leaning in slightly. Stevie, now more determined then ever, stared at Xabi long and hard.

“I can’t see anything.” He said, frustrated after a few moments of nothing. “You saw nothing?” Xabi asked, surprised. Steven nodded, feeling ashamed. Xabi smiled softly. “Is okay. You will see soon enough.” He said. Sure enough, a few months later, he stared in Xabi’s eyes again, and this time…this time he knew.

#5 – Health 172 words

“You smoke?” Stevie exclaimed, his eyes widening as he busted Xabi inhaling deeply on a cigarette, out on the balcony. Xabi blushed and stubbed it out, quickly exhaling and waving his hands around, dispelling the cloud. He leant against the balcony, arms crossed, looking at his partner. “Is a bad habit, no? I must give up.” He said, shrugging. “Xabi, you can’t afford to smoke. You need all the lung capacity you can get. You really should quit now.” Stevie said, stepping out of his usual person and into his captain mode. Xabi rolled his eyes. “You are not the first to tell me this.” He said. “Then why are you still doing it? You know it’s bad for you, and that you can’t afford to do it. Why continue?” He asked, anger starting to build up inside him.

Xabi smiled, stood up and stepped up close to Stevie, searching in his eyes. “Is like you sleeping with me. You know is bad, and that you shouldn’t…but you just can’t stop.”

#6 – Food/Drink. 222 words

He was too worried, too busy, too focused on other things. It began small, just missing out on snacks and eating less, but then it became whole meals he was skipping. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten breakfast, and dinner had become an unpleasant task he had to force himself through. He’d skip that too, if he could. He had lost weight, and was beginning to look gaunt. His skin had become sallow and his complexion was ruined, his clothes didn’t fit properly anymore. They had gone to a movie premiere last week, and he had to sneak off to the tailor so his favourite suit could be refitted, as the pants slipped down off him, no matter how tight the belt was, and the jacket looked as thought it was clown wear. Sitting on the side of the pitch, looking out over Anfield, he saw Xabi bob down next to him, out the corner of his eye. “Here,” he whispered, sliding a sandwich into his lap and proceeded to stand up, leaving his captain to brood. He didn’t know how long he had sat there, or how long he had cried, but this stint of starving himself had gone unnoticed by everyone in his life whom he had thought had mattered. None of it mattered anyone. Only Xabi.

#7 – Memory. 308 words

“What’s yeh first memory?” Stevie asked one night, parked on Xabi’s sofa, slouched down, watching some political movie that had been picked out long before he got there. Xabi turned to look at him, incredulous. “Pardon?” he asked, wondering if he had misunderstood. “Memory. Y’know, a thing you think back to? A situation yeh lived through?” He elaborated, arms moving. “Oh. Memory.” Xabi said, the word sliding unfamiliarly around his mouth. “Haven’t yeh learnt that word in English yet?” Stevie asked. Xabi shrugged. “I have not been back to lessons for a while now.” He said. “What? What for? Yeh supposed to go three times a week for a reason.” Stevie said, sitting up and paying attention. “I know enough now. I learn more from you and the other boys.” Xabi said moodily, picking at the label on his drink. There was more to it, then that. He shuddered, remembering the woman and her overbearing perfume, her tops that were so low cut or tight that she would practically fall out of it every day.

Her voice, husky and pornographic, as she’d sit on the corner of his desk, leaning over, shoving herself into his face, correcting him. They had gone out for drinks, on her insistence, and had had sex, messy and almost insulting, in a back alley on the way home. He remembered feeling dirty for weeks afterwards, wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He was sure he had gotten an infection or disease from her, and went to the doctor three times within the week. Stevie had just laughed, called him some long name that ended in “iac”. “I have memories.” He said, shrugging. Stevie was intrigued as to why he hadn’t returned. “Is it because of that teacher?” He asked. Xabi shrugged again. “Let’s just watch the movie.” He said, and turned the volume up.

#8 – The Past. 546 words

“HAPPPYYY BIIIRTTHHDAAYYY DEARRRRR XAABBIIII! HAAAPPPYYY BIIRTTHHDAYYY TOOO YOOOOOOOOOOUUU!” wailed half a dozen drunken Englishmen, along with the rest of the Liverpool boys, all at various stages of drunkenness, and from various places around the world. Xabi blushed, and blew out the ridiculous amount of candles on the huge cake Agger’s mother had made for him, layer upon layer of chocolate. It was half the size of the table, and he knew he’d be punished for it tomorrow in training. Stevie, Carra, Bellamy and Fowler were laughing about some joke Sami had said wrong, whilst Harry, Kyut, Jerzy, John and Luis chatted in the booth, waiting for Xabi to cut the cake. A few other boys were drifting around, getting more drinks for the table, and he could spot Rafa and a few of the other managers at the bar, conversing loud and fast in Spanish.

He smiled down at the cake, which was emblazoned with the Spanish flag in one corner, the English in the other, and “HAPPY 26TH XABI” in huge white letters across the top. He was handed a huge knife, and cut it quickly, being cautious as not to hit the bottom. Agger, a self-confessed cake fanatic, then stepped in and cut up the cake, dishing out thick wedges to everyone within sight, Xabi getting the hugest piece. “Oh no Daniel, I can’t eat all this…” he began to protest, and almost fell over when Stevie wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Aww, don’t be such a woman Xabi! Eat the fookin’ cake!” He slurred, his own cake being waved around. Xabi blushed, and pushed Stevie into the booth, up into the corner, sitting next to him. “What was that?” he hissed at his captain, taking a small bite of the cake, trying not to moan at the delicious taste, and at the fact Stevie’s hand was now situated rather high up on his thigh, massaging the sinewy muscles.

“Me giving you a happy birthday kiss…one of many tonight, I hope.” Stevie whispered, which wasn’t really a whisper, let alone a rather loud shout, over the pumping music in the background. They had rented out a club, and filled it with people, most that Xabi didn’t now, but he was beyond caring at that point. Some dance remix of a Smells Like Teen Spirit was playing, and he felt comforted by Kurt Cobain’s raspy vocals. “Stevie, shh! Someone might hear you.” He said, looking around. Luis, Carra, Harry and John were in the booth with them, the other boys sitting on the long table at the end, having been added on by the staff. As he looked around, he felt Stevie’s hand go higher, and his other arm wrap around him, a mouth being pressed to his neck. “Steven, I’m being-” he started, but warm lips against his quieted his protests. “Don’t worry…I made sure there wasn’t anyone bad here.” Stevie said, the smell of beer and whisky floating to Xabi’s nose. He sent Stevie an unhappy look, but another kiss and it was gone. “Relax. It’s your birthday.” He whispered into his ear, smiling. Xabi smiled softly, and laced his fingers with Stevie’s. It was his birthday, and this was really happening. Yes, it was.

#9 – The Future. 469 words

The cold wind blew into his jacket, across the buttons of his shirt, causing a shudder to ripple, his arms to tighten, the jacket to be pulled taught. It was a freezing day in late December, five days after Christmas. He had been called, a whispered plea to be met at the bridge in the park around the corner. Xabi had said nothing, just hung up and stared at the wall for an hour.

He knew what was going to happen.

But he had a shower, rubbing himself furiously with that soap Stevie loved on him so much, dousing himself in the cologne Stevie had said he couldn’t get enough of, the mere smell turning him on in ways he couldn’t imagine. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, a black shirt, a grey hoodie, a thick black jacket, a black scarf.

It would be a day for mourning.

He stocked up on bourbon, whisky, vodka, beer; everything he could possibly get his hands on. The guy behind the counter asked if he has having a party. Sad eyes and a sigh.


He walked slowly to the bridge, savoring the cold against his cheeks, the stinging in his eyes, unsure if they were tears from the wind, or tears from what he knew. Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is bliss. Why couldn’t he be ignorant, just for another day?


Steven was late, as usual. He walked to the spot Xabi was standing, and leant against it, his back to the frozen lake and the deadness of everything in the park. He shivered, breathing out condensation. The urge to hold him, to kiss him, to take him had, had never been so strong as it was now.

A sigh.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“…I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…I know.”

And it was done. Over. Almost 3 years of the greatest love he had ever had, over in a 20-second gap. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His heart was breaking, cracking, falling. His gloved hands gripped the side, for strength. He knew he’d fall down if he didn’t.

Another sigh.

“I love you. You know that. I just…it’s killing me to do this.”

“It’s okay, Steven. I understand.”

“I just-”

His phone rang, an urgent phone call from a faceless person, wanting him to leave Xabi, like it had always been.

“Look, I gotta go…I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Don’t. Just go.”

“Xabi, please don’t do this.”

“You’re the one that’s leaving me. Just go.”

A frustrated exclamation, hands raked through hair, something trying to be said…and then he was gone. Xabi waited until he was sure, and then sunk down, his head resting against the poles, tears pooling in his eyes.

It was there, in that stupid park, on that cold day in November, he broke into a million pieces.

#10 – The Present. 596 words

They had become experts by now. 7 months into it, and they knew exactly what the other needed. A phone call twice a week, a quickie after training, a long session after a game. A messy blowjob after a trip to the masseur, a make out whenever they could sneak it. They were cautious, but confident. Their roles had reversed, from their usual demeanors. Xabi couldn’t get enough of Stevie, would constantly kiss him, feel him up, had even snuck a grope while Alex was right next to them. It amazed Steven how brash and upfront Xabi was with his infatuation for him, and it also turned him on no end. So they would end up having sex wherever they could. On the bus to and from games. In the plane toilets. Over the phone. They’d even dabbled in cyber, although they were too busy jerking themselves off to type, so it turned into web cam. Xabi had danced for him, which bought a blush to both boys’s faces every time it was bought up. They had been absolutely wasted at some party Harry’s missus threw, after the women had left to go gambling. The Spanish boys had been dared, by a very vocal Agger, to do a strip tease.

Luis, Pepe and Xabi had been bashful about it, but after a few more beers, they were raring to go. Luis climbed up on the coffee table, dragging Harry and Peter with him, dancing with them in his little black underwear, Pepe had streaked down the main street, and Xabi had straddled Stevie and danced on him. It had been the source of merciless ribbing for weeks, especially after Xabi kissed Stevie silly, and Stevie had attempted to hide Xabi’s erection with his shirt. Xabi would just moan and blush, hiding his face in his shirt, whilst Stevie laughed with the other boys, gazing longingly at his partner.

After one long, hard training session, they had gotten quite wrapped up with one another up against the lockers, and didn’t even bother breaking apart when the others stumbled in, slightly dazed from the dives they had taken during training. “Ah, Jesus fookin’ Christ, Alonso…get yeh hands off Stevie’s arse while I’m around!” Carra yelled from across the room. Stevie couldn’t see what Xabi was doing, but from the laughs and “oooohhs!” that prompted, he assumed he flipped him the bird. “You’re like two teenagers, I swear.” Luis said delicately, pulling his things out his locker, rolling his eyes. “Ahh, stow it.” Stevie said, finally pulling away from Xabi, grinning madly. Xabi trailed his fingers up and down Steven’s arms, looking at him lustfully.

“I’m telling your mother, when we go back to Spain.” Pepe said, wandering past to the showers. Xabi shouted something at him in Spanish, and he burst into laughter. Luis just rolled his eyes. “What’d he say?” Stevie asked, as Xabi went to his locker. “He basically told Pepe what he’d do to him, if he mentioned anything to his mother.” Luis said, following Pepe to the showers. Stevie laughed, and grabbed his stuff. Carra appeared, and leant against the locker. “I’m being serious. Be careful.” He said, looking at his captain. Stevie snorted, and said “Carra, I can take care of myself. So can Xabi. We’re grown ups.” Jamie just glared. “There’s CCTV in here, y’know? And the big boys upstairs weren’t too happy about your PDA at Istanbul. So I repeat, be careful.” He said, and left. Steven felt like he had a block of ice in his stomach.


Oh shit.

#11 – Dreams/Nightmares 436 words

Lily had another nightmare about the monster under her bed. Steven groaned as Alex prodded him sleepily, slurring something at him about getting his daughter. Her cries echoed down the corridor while he stumbled down, opening his daughter’s room. Lily was sitting up in her bed, rubbing an eye, crying out. He picked her up, kissing her head and soothing her cries, dancing her around. He went further down the corridor to check if Xabi was still awake.

After a rather loud fight between himself and Nagore, he had grabbed his training bag and a few of his things and took off. Arrived on Stevie’s doorstep, apologizing profusely, and before he even got the sentence out, Stevie had asked him to say. Alex had pounced on him the moment she saw him, cooing and soothing him, doting on him hand and foot. “How come I never get treatment like that?” Stevie had asked, slightly put out. “Because yeh’re not Spanish. And besides, Xabi’s woman has done him wrong. He deserves a little tenderness.” Alex had said, smooshing her cheek to Xabi’s, pressing a kiss to it. Xabi had just looked helplessly at Steven, who had laughed and walked off, shaking his head.

He stopped at the doorway, peering into the spare room. Xabi was sleeping peacefully, looking almost lost in the huge double bed Alex had insisted on having in there. His bags were on the floor, unpacked, but lined up neatly, like everything about Xabi. Stevie blushed when Xabi’s eyes opened and found him, blushing slightly and stretching. He walked into the room, and sat down on the other side of the bed, Lily still in his arms, bright eyed and sucking on her dummy. Xabi sat up, and she reached out for him, struggling free of her father’s grasp and crawling into Xabi’s. Stevie watched as Xabi hugged the small child to him, rocking her gently, humming some Spanish song, and smiling.

After that, for the two weeks that Xabi stayed with him, Lily would wake up in the middle of the night and join Xabi in bed, whether he knew it or not. Some mornings he would wake up, confused as to the little lump in bed with him, other mornings he’d be woken up by small fingers, poking his nose and cheeks, a high pitched voice squeaking at him to wake up. Stevie and Alex would just laugh at the disgruntled Spaniard, Stevie’s heart swelling as he saw Xabi interacting with his children.

It was his dream coming true. Someone upstairs must have liked Steven Gerrard. Liked him a whole damn lot.

#12- Something/Someone Missing. 118 words

He hated national calls. Hated them with a passion. Don’t get him wrong, it was an honor and a privilege to be called up to play for his country, especially after seeing Raúl, Joaquin and Fernando dropped, he knew he could be next, if he didn’t keep his form up. He just hated being without Stevie. He had grown used to life around Stevie, organizing things so that they wouldn’t clash with things he wanted to do. They were the best of friends to everyone else, but those in their closer circles knew it was more. He sighed, rolling over and flinging an arm out to the empty spot in the bed next to him. Someone was missing.

#13 – Unexpected. 168 words

A picture sent his phone. A rose in his locker. A card in his windscreen wiper. A love heart drawn onto the whiteboard in the weights room. Little messages of love pattered everywhere they could. Nobody knew anything about them. Nobody ever would. Only the two that were most important for it did, and that was all that mattered. This was new to both of them, and they wanted it to be right. Not to be rushed or dirty, or treated as a casual fuck twice a week, a friendship with benefits. It was more then had. It was special and lovely and fantastic and filled with love and passion and raw feeling. What they had would be the greatest untold love story ever unknown, according to a whispered adoration at 2:30 in the morning. A snorted reply, that he was pushing it a bit, but the kiss that followed made him a believer. It was wrong. It was right. It was completely foreseen. But it was unexpected.


January 2008

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