Chapter Text
Iker Casillas was student body president, captain of the football team (not the rec one, he might add with a teasing smile if he were speaking to Steven Gerrard), and an overall shining senior, the star of Hastings Academy. Best of the bunch.
A saint. Or at least that’s what they called him when he walked out on the pitch with his electric green trimmed gloves waving in the air. Black and shocking green and his shocking, brilliant smile.
And he was a saint off the pitch as well. He saved the senior class by getting Campbell’s to donate 3, 700 cans in the canned food drive, just beating out the juniors by ten (a feat which made Sergio and Cristiano refuse to speak to him for a week--overcompetitive assholes that they were). He helped the sophomores make their homecoming decorations in his free time and donated money to the car wash after David Villa misplaced the bucket. He was, in all honesty, the hero of Hastings Academy.
But there was one in particular who looked up to Iker, who noticed the little things he did, who watched the way he chewed on his pen in class and glared enviously as Iker made his way to the all girls’ school a few blocks away. Cesc was just a sophomore with a pathetically low self esteem when it came to Iker and the heartbreakingly true belief that Iker would never look at him, at least not that way.
And he was half right. Iker did notice him, just not that way. He saw the way Cesc looked up to him and he told Sergio and Cristiano to look out for him although his words were lost on the air. “That Cesc is a good kid.” Sergio would nod and Cristiano would shrug.
But Iker was Iker (unobservant as usual) and he wasn’t about to see past the fact that it wasn’t just looking up to him. It was a crush that had gone all the way back to third grade, when Iker was a fifth grader. He had turned to Cesc in the hallway and asked, “Sorry what time is it?”
And Cesc had just gaped at him because he had a bloody nose from playing football earlier and stupid Gerard’s fat elbow knocked him in the nose. There was blood all down his front and he was talking to Iker Casillas, the one the teachers all loved and the other students all fawned over. So maybe the crush began before that day. Maybe Cesc had just sort of always seen Iker and thought, Wow if only some part of him were mine. Or even, if only he knew I belonged to him.
Two days before, there was the contact Cesc had been looking for. He wasn’t in the starting XI, but he was used as a sub and, since it was just a scrimmage before the season even started, he was pleased. Iker hugged him at the end of the game and told him he did a good job. Cesc blushed and recounted it to Gerard several times (Gerard of course being the only person Cesc had ever told) who promptly responded with a punch in the arm and, “You’re fucking pathetic, man.”
“I know,” Cesc replied with a grin. “But at least I know that I am, right?”
“Sure, sure, whatever makes you happy.” Gerard stretched out on Cesc’s bed and watched as he dreamily talked about Iker’s arms and Iker’s eyes and Iker Iker Iker. Gerard zoned out like he normally did and put his feet on Cesc’s pillow like he hated, his private rebellion.
He did stuff like that sometimes. Dated girls he knew Cesc found annoying, went to parties he knew Cesc would roll his eyes at, hung out with people he knew Cesc would hate. That’s what he gets. That’s what he gets for never noticing. Not once in all the time they’d been friends. Not once had he ever noticed.
It’s not that Gerard hated Iker. It’s just that Cesc loved him so much. Iker was Cesc’s football captain and Gerard respected him as such (although it was more for Cesc than any pride he had in the school), but he also didn’t waste time waiting to call him a pale prick with a stick up his ass. In his head of course and only when Cesc wasn’t around. Cesc had a radar for that sort of stuff.
“Gerard, don’t make that face when I’m talking about Iker,” Cesc would whine and Gerard would try his hardest to find Cesc annoying and it even worked, but it only made him love his best friend all the more for it.
He rolled over on Cesc’s bed as the tale was recounted over again. He groaned into the pillow and wondered if Cesc would even notice if he up and left.
-
“Alonso!” Stevie called after History. “Hey, Alonso!”
Xabi finally looked up from the textbook in his hands, his thoughts a million miles away. “Sorry, what’s that, Stevie?”
“No, nothing.” They effortlessly kept pace with one another as they threaded their way through the crowd of people, most of them parting to allow Xabi through. The way students worshipped certain people made Stevie roll his eyes. But he didn’t mind so much when it was about Xabi. Hell, he sort of worshiped the boy himself.
“I was just coming over to say hi. Was going to try and convince you to join rec again.” He made a hopeful expression and something in Xabi’s heart lifted. “Come on, you don’t want to be stuck with those pricks on the real team with real football and real uniforms.”
He pulled on Xabi’s arm and Xabi rolled his eyes. “Come to rec where the kits are known to fall apart and half the time we don’t even know who we’re playing. Hell, half the time we don’t even play on a real pitch.”
His voice rose dramatically and Xabi couldn’t help but smile. “But it’s blood and sweat and tears. It’s rec football where dreams are crushed and you learn how to lose like a man, sobbing in the locker room together because rec is fucking serious shit.”
“Inspirational,” Xabi muttered with a smile. He knew Stevie was good enough to be on the competitive team for the school. He was good, so good, and when the team and the rec team practiced together (because they took pity sometimes), he and Xabi were flawless together.
The only reason Stevie wasn’t on the team was because of his grades. The rec team had become notorious for being a little more brutal, a little more thick-headed, and mostly reserved for people with lower GPAs.
Now Xabi knew that just wasn’t true. The rec team had no clue how to time challenges, half of them just waiting for the ball to magically float to their feet. And plenty of them just joined for something to do in high school that wasn’t super high pressure like the competitive team was.
As for the lower GPA part, Xabi knew that to be true. To be on the team, you had to have a high enough GPA, teacher recommendations, parent permission unless you were over 18. All sorts of stuff to be able to kick a ball around. But Xabi loved it enough to follow through and to put up with the pretentious bullshit.
He accepted that there was a certain standard for members of the team and he had no trouble keeping his grades up. Xabi was a studier and most of the reason why people had actually voted him senior class vice president was because he often helped them with their own homework and they knew he was qualified for the job.
“I do pride myself on being rather inspirational.” Stevie grinned and smacked Xabi’s arm. “We’re gonna do it, Xabi. We’re gonna win the rec cup this year. Senior year, I gotta do it. And then we’ll play you guys in the friendly at the end of the year and we’ll beat you to get that tiny plastic trophy if it’s the last thing I do.” He poked Xabi in the chest playfully but Xabi could see the hunger in his eyes.
“No rec team has beaten us for 17 years, Stevie. Don’t get your hopes up.” Xabi stopped outside his english classroom and raised his eyebrows.
“Fucking asshole,” Stevie said fondly. “See you in Ethics, yeah?”
See you cheating off my paper in Ethics, Xabi thought with a wry grin.
-
“I knew you owned a hair dryer,” Sergio practically shouted across the table at Cristiano. Iker watched the two of them with mild interest and vaguely wondered why he loved his two best friends so much. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. That’s why your locks are so luscious.”
Iker looked at Sergio blankly for a moment, then to Cristiano, then back at Sergio. “Are you two fucking again?”
“Well not at the moment, Iker.”
“Thanks, Sergio, but believe it or not, I have eyes. I can see that you’re not fucking at this exact moment in time. Fucking idiot.”
“Language, dear saint,” Cristiano said in his usual bored tone, picking at the free lunch he got every day because the lunch lady was obsessed with him. Iker wondered with some interest if he would eventually get around to screwing her too. Probably.
“I want to run my hand through his hair,” Sergio said enthusiastically. “Just look at it.”
“Sergio’s getting sexually frustrated,” Cristiano sighed. “Iker, take him outside and walk him around before practice please. I don’t want him to get too restless.”
“That’d be so hot though. On the field. Oh yes.” Sergio looked rather pleased with himself, but he was unable to phase Cristiano. Iker saw with perfect clarity the love between them, but he had no clue what kind it was.
“Are you just horny right now?” Iker flicked his candy wrapper in Sergio’s direction and he nodded, completely unashamed. “Come to St. Anne’s with me after school and I’ll find you a girl.” Sergio didn’t look impressed. “Two?”
“Iker, you naughty boy.” Cris smirked.
“Just stop talking about Cris’s luscious locks because now I can’t stop staring and this is really distracting. I can’t unsee this.” Iker cringed and tried to go back to his English homework. Maybe Xabi would be around to help because this book was making absolutely no sense to him and English (well, every class if he was being honest) normally made sense to him.
Sergio looked pleased. “Holy crap, I’ve successfully gayed Iker.” Meanwhile, Cristiano whined, “Shut up, Sergio, that was me who gayed him.”
“Shut up, Ronaldo. How do you feel about playing left bench?” Cristiano made a face. “Ramos, how do you feel about playing right I’m going to throw you off a fucking cliff.”
“How do you feel about shutting the fuck up.” Sergio was grinning from ear to ear.
Cristiano leaned forward and said, “How do you feel about screwing me after school when we get our room assignments?”
It was the infamous room assignment day. For a week, the students are allowed to stay with parents to settle in, or the school would set them up in a hotel nearby. Sergio was a hotel kid and his parties were the only important thing about the first week of school. But after the first week, the assignments were handed out, it was time to get down to business, defeat the Huns, etc.
Sergio nodded emphatically. “Yes. I’ll walk you home.”
“What a gentleman,” Cris muttered under his breath, opening his Pre-Calc notebook. Honors, Iker noted with a smile. He was a lot smarter than he let on. Worked a lot harder than anyone thought. Besides, he tutored Sergio in his free time and was basically the only reason Sergio could stay on the team. Grades were not Sergio’s strong point. He was good at debate because he could confuse everyone enough for them to just sit down, but that was about it.
Cristiano spent his time tutoring Sergio, and then they screwed. And then they went back to studying. Rinse. Repeat.
“Then who’s walking to St. Anne’s with me? What the hell, guys.” Iker was determined to keep up appearances. And besides, he enjoyed going. They wore their skirts short and their tops tight. Why would you miss going to an all girls school?
“It’s your fault you’re straight,” Sergio said with a shrug.
“Fuck you and no it’s not. And you’re straight too!” Sergio had a girlfriend a few months back but that didn’t stop him from making eyes at Cristiano every chance he got.
“I swing both ways and Cris fucks everything with a heartbeat and if it’s remotely shiny, he might mistake it for a heartbeat.” He patted Cristiano’s head fondly. “Poor thing. So yeah, I’d say we’re not exactly straight.”
“I hate you both,” Iker groaned, throwing his pen at Cristiano. “I don’t want to walk alone.”
“Don’t be such a pussy,” Cristiano said, throwing the pen back. “Just go alone and ask out that lovely girl you were talking to the other day.”
“Who? Sara? Anna? Michelle?”
Cris shrugged like it hardly mattered. Sergio clapped him on the back. “Those are called names, sweetie.”
“I know what names are. They’re to keep track of who you’ve slept with and who’s next.” Iker rolled his eyes.
“You’re such sluts. Why am I friends with you?” Iker rubbed his face irritably. “I’ll just have to ask someone else to come with me. Iker was about to ask them if they’d seen Xabi, but Sergio was already mouthing dirty things across the table and Iker had to look away before he burst out laughing.
-
“I fucking hate pre-calc,” moaned Cristiano as he made his way to the next class.
Sergio sighed. “Shut up. I’m stuck with a bunch of sophomores in Algebra 2. And there’s even a freshman which blows my mind.”
“Yeah. But scope them out, okay?”
Sergio nodded quite seriously. “I saw a few cute ones that I either didn’t notice last year or they changed or something, but yeah I’m so willing to--”
Cristiano smiled gently. “I actually meant for the scrimmage after school. See who we want to pick to be on our team so we can kick Iker’s ass.”
“Oh, right.” Sergio thought about that for a moment. “Right.” He smiled. “Okay, I’ll look and have a list by the end of the day.” He waved and moved across the hall to his own class.
Cristiano smiled at Sergio’s retreating form and wondered for the millionth time what was going on. That always seemed to be the question in Cristiano’s mind, ever since he had met Sergio a few years ago and they’d become fast friends.
Cristiano knew he wasn’t exactly the most innocent person. If things were based purely on sexual exploits and the prudish beliefs of the strictest religious foundations, he’d be burning in the seventh circle of hell. But he did like to think he had some nice qualities. And one of those nice qualities just happened to be loving Sergio Ramos.
Loving him in some weird, complicated way where they both refused to acknowledge what was happening. After they messed around, Sergio would lay in bed and mutter “you’re perfect” or “I love you so much.” And he’d look at Cris and smile and Cris would say it back, but there was no real relationship. It was I love you as a friend and also you give great blowjobs, so thanks.
The strange thing was that what both of them needed to hear was “I like you.” They already knew they loved one another, but they really needed to hear that they genuinely liked one another, as more than just friends. But both doubted that would ever happen.
Cristiano opened the door to his next classroom and settled into his usual seat with a weary sigh next to a very quiet Fernando Torres and a few seats behind that annoying little shit Lionel Messi. Fucking sophomore in his class and he had the nerve to turn down the school team to play for rec. Asshole. When the team approached Cristiano to play after tryouts with that look on their faces like there was finally something he was good at, there was no way in the world he could turn it down.
It was something to cling to after his father died as well. Football was something important to him and then it became his everything.
Every class period was like this. Walk in and reflect on how much he fucking hated the class, stare at the back of Leo’s head and wonder why the fuck he had to be in this class (he’s a sophomore, can he just stop) and wonder what the hell made him think he was better than anyone who didn’t choose rec. Like congratulations, you’re different.
Just on principle, one doesn’t say no to the team. You just don’t.
“So, Fernando,” Cristiano said, stretching and grinning, relishing the glare Fernando sent him. “How are you today, sunshine?” And why do you despise me so much? What did I ever do to you? Cris was sure he did something. He just wasn’t sure what and Fernando wasn’t willing to release the information.
Fernando looked up from his math textbook. “Do you mind? I’m trying to study.”
“Fucker,” Cristiano muttered exactly when Mr. Cruyff walked in. Demon teacher, Cris thought, struggling not to glare at him. Every class period he practically rode Leo’s dick as he whispered the answer. Another thing that bothered Cris about Leo. His inability to say the answers loudly. If he’s going to raise his hand every five fucking seconds, he might as well shout the answers loud and proud. Cris had started raising his hand more often, his answers growing increasingly louder as the day went on.
“What’s that, Ronaldo?” Cruyff asked as he set his books on his desk, turning to face the class. “Something you want to share with the rest of us?”
“Yes, sir. I was just called Fernando here a fucker.” Cristiano smiled pleasantly at his math teacher.
“I see.” Mr. Cruyff smiled tight-lipped. “Is this something you want to see the dean about?”
Cristiano actually let out a laugh and Fernando’s glare intensified. A visit to Mourinho’s office would actually be welcome.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Cristiano replied, struggling to keep a straight face. “Please don’t send me to Mr. Mourinho.”
“Unless you want a 0 for today’s class,” Cruyff said, walking forward slowly, “I suggest you stay quiet and refrain from harassing Torres for one day of your miserable life.”
“Yes, sir.” Cristiano saluted him. Leo turned around and looked at him with a surprising amount of hostility. Cristiano smiled his normal smile and Leo blinked. Turned pink. And turned back around to pay attention to the start of the lesson.
Well. Some things never change.
-
Fernando jostled Cristiano on his way out of the classroom. He thanked God for the millionth time they weren’t teammates. He didn’t do a sport, thank you very much. Schoolwork was his top priority and then he would go watch a game and picture himself back out on the field like he used to, before he moved to this private school where the boys acted like 12 year old drama queens 800% of the time.
But he did remember what his mom said about this being the best option, the best school in the country. If a college saw you were from Hastings and your grades were good, they considered you before anyone else.
So that’s why he went on at this school, even when his mom asked if he wanted to transfer because she never saw him with any friends. He’d shrug and say, “Mom, really, I love it here. But look, I can’t use my phone for much longer, so can I call you back tomorrow? The dorms are great and so is the food. Love you!” He always ended on a happy note, so that’s what she remembered.
Contrary to popular belief, he did have some friends. Xabi for one. Normally he was busy with student council and the million other things that boy managed to fit into his day, but occasionally he did come to sit with Fernando at lunch and he stressed about all the applications he had to get done.
He’d turn to Fernando to ask about his and Fernando would have to remind him he was only a junior and all that was still a year away.
He was friendly with Iker as well, although Iker was friendly with everyone. Mostly they just sat side by side when they wanted to get homework done. Iker would ask him how his day went and Fernando would reply, “Good, how about you?” And Iker would reply, “It was okay.” And then they would stop there and get back to their schoolwork.
Sitting with Iker was pleasant, although it did mean Fernando would have to put up with seeing dumb and dumber, Sergio and Cristiano. Sergio was painful to see. He was infuriatingly beautiful and dramatic and loud and Fernando wanted to talk to him, wanted to get to know him, but he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking that was possible. And he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking there was much substance underneath it all.
And Cristiano... Don’t even start him on Cristiano. Every single class period he had to sit there and think about how Cristiano was probably screwing Sergio again because everyone knew that was a thing. Or it was a rumor anyway. Most people just laughed it off like yeah, sureee that’s true. Maybe Fernando was just gullible or maybe he noticed the way they looked at one another. Either way, that was one rumor he believed wholeheartedly.
Cristiano with his maddening smile and inability to keep quiet in class was a constant reminder of everything Fernando wasn’t. And everything he would have to be to ever be noticed by someone like Sergio.
-
Lionel couldn’t sit through another retelling of the chapter. Everyone was getting it wrong and if there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was people getting things wrong.
Gonzalo Higuain, a sophomore like him and apparently one of the glorious “chosen ones” lucky enough to be hanging out with Iker (who, granted, was a nice guy) and his band of douchewads, raised his hand. “Excuse me, but I, like, don’t understand why we have to do this because I already, like, read the whole chapter and no offense, but some of you have really annoying voices and it’s making me hate the book.”
Pep, their young English teacher, nodded energetically. He asked people to call him Pep because he didn’t feel like a Mr. Guardiola anyway. “Right, no more chapter recaps. We want everyone to enjoy the book. Why don’t we go in to where Caroline is speaking to... yes, yes....” He flipped through the book some more. “Yes.”
He had a habit of stopping in the middle of his sentences. “Now what happens here? What did you get out of this scene?”
Gonzalo, who was surprisingly good at English despite his inability to form a sentence without using “like” a trillion times, raised his hand again, resting his feet on Karim Benzema’s lap who nodded approvingly at his participation. “Caroline is a complete bitch. Like she’s making fun of the Bennet family and like who the hell does she think she is? Do you know what I mean? Like what’s so fucking great about Caroline? I bet she’s not even that hot. Like it fucking enrages me that she thinks she can get away with this kind of shit. What does it matter if your family has old money? Caroline is really, like, annoying me right now.”
Karim started a slow clap and the rest of the class followed suit, clapping enthusiastically. Someone Leo didn’t recognize stood up and nodded emphatically. “Brilliant,” he murmured before taking his seat again.
Leo rolled his eyes as Pep nodded carefully. “Good, Gonzalo. Wonderful. I’m glad you’re so passionate about this, but if we could keep the language to a minimum, that would be great.” He nodded. “Great, anything else?”
Before he knew it, Leo’s hand shot up and he was staring Gonzalo down and speaking before Pep called on him. Speaking out of turn was absolutely appalling to Leo because he hated people like that, but he hated their blind worship of this asshole much more. So he figured it was just a matter of choosing between two evils.
“I think Caroline is being treated a little unfairly. Sure, she insults the family and that’s not right at all, but you have to take into account that she loves Darcy. She’s known him for much longer than Elizabeth has and Elizabeth just comes in and all of a sudden, Darcy’s talking about how gorgeous her eyes are. So obviously she’s going to be a little rude to the Bennet family. It all stems from jealousy, and love, so maybe we should give Caroline a break. Sure, she’s rude and annoying, but I wouldn’t exactly call her a bitch.”
Leo was surprised at how much he managed to get out without even thinking. Maybe he was better at English than he thought.
“I would,” Karim said with a shrug and the rest of the class followed suit. Leo rolled his eyes. Of course.
The rest of class was spent arguing what exactly made a bitch a bitch and when it was appropriate to call someone a bitch and Pep just stood there with a mildly interested expression, interjecting something like “Please keep the language to a minimum” but no one listened because it was pretty much the only class they could cuss in without getting sent to the dean’s.
After class, Pep ran straight to the office to make some photocopies and it was just Gonzalo and Leo left in the room. It was a little weird for Leo to see Gonzalo without Karim and the rest of his loyal band of followers, but he found it oddly comforting that Gonzalo was sort of just a normal person underneath it all. Maybe. Leo snuck a glance at him and reminded himself that Gonzalo was friends with Sergio, Cris, and all them. So maybe not.
“Hey, Leo, right?” He heard when he was almost out the door. He looked back to see Gonzalo walking towards him, trying not to be offended that Gonzalo wasn’t completely sure about his name. He opened the door and they stepped outside together. Leo lingered just outside the doorway, unsure what it was all about. “I like what you said in seminar today.”
“Oh, yeah... thanks.” Leo stayed rooted to the spot and Gonzalo looked perfectly comfortable.
“So, yeah enjoy your day or whatever.” He grinned. “Hope you meet your Darcy soon. Or, you know, your Elizabeth Bennet. But I can see you with more of a Darcy type. Because you’re so sweet and unassuming. Need someone to get some viciousness up in this bitch, am I right?” He smiled and slapped Leo’s shoulder, running down the hall to meet back up with Karim.
Karim patted Gonzalo’s head affectionately. Separation anxiety must have been awful, Leo thought coldly.
-
Andres stood at the front of the class with shaking hands. That Daniel Agger kid was staring him down and he was supposed to be giving a presentation. Fuck you, he thought. Fuck you very much. He was one of those rec players, one of the ones that gave them their bad reputation with his tattoos and strange piercings. Or at least Andres thought that was a piercing. Better not look at him long enough to be sure.
Andres thought he was just about the most terrifying person in the universe and then his teacher told him he had to start the presentation and Andres would rather sit in a broom closet with Daniel Agger for three hours straight than ever start the awful thing.
But the teacher moved it to the next slide and suddenly it was like Andres was on the pitch and he knew exactly what he was doing again. He had practiced it a million times and when he spoke, he spoke assuredly. His face lit up and he didn’t stumble over a single word.
The TA in the back of the classroom looked up when he finished and gave him a smile. Xavi, Andres thought numbly, is actually looking at me.
Xavi was somewhat of a dark cloud over Hastings Boys’ Academy football. Three years ago, when he was a freshman, he had a starting position. That hardly happened to anyone ever in the history of the Academy. He was player of the whole season, easy. Sophomore year, without an explanation, he transferred to rec and cut all ties with his friends from the team. Halfway through sophomore year, he quit playing football entirely. As a senior, he doesn’t even show up to the games.
The coaches had been devastated when he quit and Andres can still remember the look in Iker’s eyes when Xavi told him he had quit football entirely. Andres was just a ball boy then, the year before he was a freshman. But he saw the look in his captain’s eyes and Andres thought he saw it as a betrayal of sorts.
Iker had Xavi had been close, really close, and then Xavi quit and people grew to like Iker, and Xavi was just there with his group of friends, somewhere off to the side. Iker had his group and Xavi had his and they pretty much never saw eye to eye anymore. In fact, there was much speculation that it was Xavi himself that convinced Leo to snub the team and join rec.
Andres had always been friendly with Leo, smiling at him in the hallways, but they never really talked enough for Andres to ask whether that was true or not. And besides, it was sort of his responsibility as the quietest one on the team to not involve himself in that sort of gossip.
Andres turned his paper in to Xavi at the back of the classroom and Xavi smiled. “Thanks.” He set the paper aside and looked at Andres thoughtfully as another report started. “Good report, Andrew.”
Andres’s heart sank. “It’s Andres,” he corrected, too quietly for Xavi to hear, before he made his way back to his seat, red in the face.
-
Iker ripped the paper off the wall where it was posted. He cleared his throat, grinned, and shouted to the group standing behind him, “So, freshmen, just so you know, the classes are mixed up. Don’t get freaked out if you’re rooming with a senior because most of us are nice.”
“Andres, you’re with Xavi.” Everyone pretended not to notice how Iker tripped over Xavi’s name. Pretended not to notice how they wouldn’t look at one another. Xavi picked up Andres’s bag for him and proceeded to call him Andrew all the way down the hallway.
“Sergio, you’re with me.” Iker looked up, surprised. “And, Cris, you’re with Ricky. He’s new. He won’t be here until tomorrow.”
Cristiano groaned. Another year with a crappy roommate.
Across the hall, Fernando found Juan, his roommate, and they shared a quick, quiet conversation about a book they’d both read. He was relatively pleased, but he kept his eyes on Sergio.