Chapter Text
“Lets just call an electrician next time yeah?” Martin sighs while digging through the almost empty first aid kit in search of band aids and saline. He would have to buy a new kit soon if Andreas kept it up like this, absolutely zero survival instinct on that one.
Andreas winces as the other grabs his hand to inspect it, “You know I can do it, I just need better gloves that's all.”
“What you need is to stop putting your fingers where they don’t belong”, Julian gives him a smack in the back of the head as he passes by. His pant legs are still rolled up from wading around in their flooded basement to get to the fuse box and there are wet footprints soaking into the floor boards in an almost comical trail behind him. Yet another thing they would have to deal with later.
“Yeah because you know everything about putting fingers where they don’t belong don’t you”
Julian raises his hand in a “boy if you don’t-” gesture but ultimately refrains, mostly because Martin is also present and there would be hell to pay if he actually gave the younger one what he so clearly deserves.
“Boys”. It is stern, and the tone leaves no room for argument. They fall into silence while Martin patiently cleans what is left of Andreas' fingernails.
Martin always found it hard not to dote upon the younger one, even though he was almost twenty now. When he had joined their little gang of misfits at barely seventeen years of age, with the overall energy of a piece of crinkled tissue paper, Martin took him under his wings without second thought. He hadn’t planned on it, but without anyone to steer him on the right course Andreas always managed to stumble into situations he couldn’t get himself out of. It had just been about making sure the boy didn’t piss off the wrong people and ate something at least once every other day, Martin never nagged him about his attitude or anything like that, even though God knows it was hard not to sometimes, but he rightfully concluded that was a step too far.
“Are you done soon?” Martin is pulled out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry, all done” he half mumbles, giving Andreas a light smack on the knee, “now get out of here”
Andreas flashes him a quick smile before disappearing through the bathroom door, the sound of him thundering down the stairs reverberating through the entire house. A couple of moments after the front door slams shut the unmistakable thudding of a football being kicked against the outer wall of the house starts up like a sluggish metronome. It’s a familiar sound, a sound that makes Martin’s heart settle into a comfortable rhythm right along with it.
Still deep in thought he packs up the first aid kit and makes his way downstairs. It is eerily quiet inside the big house, most of the boys are in town to get supplies and without the constant bickering the moment is close to peaceful. Yet, the prospect of tonight’s meet up with the English hangs in the air like a wet blanket.
After putting the kit away Martin walks into the kitchen to the familiar sight of Erling standing by the dented sink. The fading light outside still falls in through the grimy window above, giving the bowl of washed vegetables sitting on the counter to his right an almost ethereal beauty, if that's even possible. Even though he was the (albeit reluctant) leader of their little gang he still didn’t think it beneath him to do regular housework, a trait Martin had always respected about his friend.
”He’s getting pretty good” Erling nods towards Andreas who can now be seen dribbling the football on the dry patch of grass they called lawn. Martin nods, more to himself than anything.
”Yeah. You should show him who’s boss though, knock him down a few pegs.”
”Unfair fight”
Martin smiles to himself. They stay quiet after that, nothing but the sound of the knife as it turns carrots into dimes, a comfortable silence.
”Are you nervous about tonight?” Martin asks while starting to half heartedly set the table, just to have something to do with his hands.
”What is there to be nervous about? It’s just the English.” “Right”
They fall into silence again, but there is a tension in the air now.
Erling sighs, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to”
And there it is, the acknowledgement. Making it all too real all of a sudden.
“I gotta move on sooner or later, right?” Martin says quietly, keeping his gaze locked on the football as Andreas skillfully kicks it high into the clear evening sky before resuming his potshots on the wall, “-and he might not even be there. Could just be Kane or someone else entirely”
“I’m just saying”
“I know” Martin gives the other what he hopes is a convincing smile, though he can feel the corners of his mouth fighting the movement. Fuck. He clears his throat, gives his friend a clap on the shoulder, “-but someone’s gotta watch that big back of yours and it might as well be me.”
Erling just shakes his head with a smile. As if to put an end to the heavy moment a loud crash makes them both jump, looking up there suddenly a new crack in the double paned window.
A faint ”Sorry!” Can be heard from the outside before the thumping continues. The moment is definitely over.
Martin clicks his tongue, “Remind me again who’s idea it was to paint a goal cage on the wall?”
“I’ll buy new panes” Erling says simply, “and don’t pretend you don't like it. You spend as much time out there as he does.”
"Touché"