Chapter Text
The moon was full in the sky in southern Germany, and visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the large hotel room below, where the curtains stood undrawn.
But despite the clear, impressive night, Jude Bellingham, one of Borussia Dormund’s young midfielders, had his body turned from the windows, and he sat with his attention glued to the television in front of him.
He was wearing a white dressing gown, and sat perched on the end of one of the twin beds in the cream-coloured room. His elbows rested on his knees, and he held the remote control loosely in one hand and was flicking through the channels impatiently.
Nothing seemed to satisfy him after the frustrating match that he had played earlier that day. A crushing 0-3 defeat and a punishing yellow card – one he felt he had been given unfairly - had left him restless, and so he’d found himself flicking irritably through the different channels on the screen in front of him with some speed. The sounds of various European languages washed over him as he switched from various soap operas to animated adverts, to low-budget action films.
The volume was high on the TV, but Jude was feeling hypersensitive, and was also tuned in to the changing sounds coming from the bathroom behind him. He listened as the sound of falling water came to a stop as a shower was turned off, followed by the noise of the shower cubicle door being scraped back, and then tried to form a picture in his mind from the sounds of things that were being moved around.
He turned his head from the screen slightly to see that the bathroom door had been left slightly ajar, and he knew that his teammate and roommate for the night, Erling Haaland, would be able to hear him if he shouted.
“Erl?” he checked.
“Have you chosen something yet?” a voice boomed back.
Jude smiled. “There’s nothing good on,” he called into the bathroom.
“Are you just saying that, or did you actually have a proper look?” Erling asked.
“Nah, nothing,” Jude said dismissively. “Plenty of rubbish in languages neither of us can understand, and a few boring films.”
Erling stepped out of the bathroom in his own dressing gown, his broad frame practically filling the doorway as he did so, blonde hair hanging loose and damp around his shoulders. He settled on the bed next to Jude’s, and stretching out his long legs, leaned back on his elbows, looking at the screen.
He watched as Jude continued rapidly scanning through the channels, barely noticing as the number of the channel returned to 001, flicking through programmes he had presumably already scanned through.
“How about that?” Erling said suddenly, pointing a finger at an action film, which Jude rapidly skipped past.
“Seen it.”
“Not worth seeing again?”
“Nahhhhh.”
“It looked ok.”
“Nah, it was absolute rubbish. Acting was terrible, plot was shaky. Got slated at the box office as I remember; critics said it should have gone straight to video.” Erling was reminded that for all of Jude’s perceived aloofness, he had an extremely active mind and was often more highly tuned in than people thought.
Jude switched to, and then quickly past, a German soap opera. “Don’t fancy improving your German?” Erling teased.
“Nein, mein Deutsch ist sehr gut,” Jude retorted, his eyes still locked on the screen. “Hope you were able to understand that.”
Erling sat up and turned to him. “So what do you want to do, go straight to bed? Or do you feel up to talking about the match earlier?”
That stopped Jude in his tracks. He groaned heavily, raising the remote control theatrically to his forehead, and leaned back into the mattress.
“I’ll take that as a no?” Erling said, grinning.
“Mate, that was an absolute disaster,” Jude muttered, raising his other arm up to meet the remote and covering his face. “Best confined to the dumpster of history.”
“Hey, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was probably the worst we’ve played this season,” Jude whined, his voice muffled through his arms. “And the ref was completely unfair to give that yellow card! I know Coach is going to be an absolute nightmare tomorrow to kick us into shape for the next one, and I’m going to be a prime target.”
“Well, at least I might get a bit of entertainment out of that,” Erling said, grinning, nodding at the large screen. “Seeing as it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting any from the TV tonight.”
Jude laughed and threw the remote in his direction – not hard – but enough that it hit him in the side and bounced off the bed. The TV managed to turn itself off in the process.
He then turned towards Erling, and seemed to study him, before surprising him altogether with a completely different change of topic. “You know, you shouldn’t leave your hair like that, mate,” he said, eyes roaming over his face. “It’ll damage it if you don’t comb and dry it.”
Erling turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “So we’re not going to talk tactics, but you’re going to tell me how to do my own hair now?”
“Someone’s got to look after you,” Jude said, grinning at him. “And besides, who do you know who can give you better hair guidance than me?” He pointed at his own hair to make a point. “Best in the business!”
Erling rolled his eyes, but smiled nevertheless, as Jude hopped off the bed and came to stand in front of him. “Can I comb it?”
Erling laughed and looked at him in disbelief. “You want to comb my hair?”
“Oh, come on!” Jude pleaded.
“Are we actually having this conversation?”
“I’ll make you look real nice for Coach tomorrow. It might even distract him enough to not pay close attention to me.”
Erling read between the lines what Jude was trying to tell him: that this ridiculous act would prevent him from a night of self-punishment as he was no doubt going over in his head the events from earlier that day. Erling had already sensed that Jude was upset on the coach ride back from the pitch, and that feeling hadn’t lessened over dinner, or watching him just now scanning through the channels.
Still, he shook his head. “I think the ball must have hit you extra hard in the head or something today. But if you want to… I suppose you can’t do that much damage there,” Erling said.
He smiled weakly at Jude, and watched in surprise as Jude’s eyes lit up, and a huge smile broke across his face.
Erling started laughing as Jude ran into the bathroom, grinning like an excited child, emerging a moment later with one of the free combs supplied by the hotel.
“I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this.”
“Hey, just you wait.”
“There’s still time to change your mind.”
“Absolutely not.”
Jude came to stand over the bed and hovered over Erling. He puzzled for a bit over where to start, before leaning into Erling’s side.
“Ok, stay still,” he said.
Erling couldn’t help laughing as Jude tilted his head so that it was level, and began to part his hair into sections. Then, with some concentration, he selected a section of Erling’s damp blonde hair, and used the comb to separate it from the rest of his hair.
Erling scrunched his face as the comb made contact with his head, and closed his eyes.
“You don’t have to close them; I’m not going to hurt you,” Jude muttered. He repositioned himself and started at the back. Erling felt Jude’s hands fondling the hair at the base of his scalp. A few droplets of water escaped down the back of his dressing gown as Jude began his first descent, making the skin on Erling’s broad upper back tingle.
“That alright?” Jude asked inquisitively.
“Well, you’ve not killed me yet,” Erling said. “It’s just really strange that you’re doing this.”
As Jude moved towards his side and began stroking the hair close to his ear, Erling opened one eye.
He watched as Jude carefully ran his fingers through a section of his hair, dividing strands with the tips of his thumb and forefinger to check that they weren’t tangled. He then brought the comb down slowly from root to tip.
As he moved fully into Erling’s vision to comb the front of his hair, Erling found himself looking fully at Jude. He couldn’t help thinking that his friend was a completely different person from the hothead he’d seen on the pitch earlier that day.
Completely unrecognisable, in fact. Erling had almost had to break up a fight during the afternoon match, pulling Jude away while he screamed obscenities at a player on the opposite team, which is ultimately what had resulted in the yellow card. Jude had continued shouting at least a full two minutes after the altercation, and even Erling’s comforting arm round his shoulder had failed to calm him down.
The man he was looking at now was calm and quiet, one hand gently cupping the side of his head, while the other was carefully running the comb through strands of his hair. Erling couldn’t help thinking he was almost being too gentle, as if afraid that he might genuinely hurt him with the small plastic comb.
A blush unexpectedly rose to Erling’s cheeks, as he found himself thinking that this gesture – however strange - from Jude was surprisingly affectionate. His heart swelled with fondness for his friend.
“Everything ok there?” he asked, simply to fill the silence that had sprung between them.
“Mmm, almost done,” Jude mumbled in response.
Finally, satisfied with his work, Jude ran his hands through the hair framing the front of Erling’s face, and smiled down at him. Erling smiled back, and Jude quickly tapped his cheeks twice, to seemingly signal that all was done.
“There we go,” he said.
Erling nodded, and it was then that Jude – who never missed anything - noticed the colour that had risen to his face. “Erl, are you blushing?”
Erling laughed awkwardly, and said defensively: “Look, it was just a bit strange, I didn’t expect I’d spend the evening watching you play with my hair.”
Jude laughed and playfully kissed him on the cheek, as he had done many times on the pitch. “Mate, it will never not be funny to me that people think you’re this big, scary Viking. You’re literally the softest person I know.”
“Well, don’t let Coach hear you say that. I’ll be joining you tomorrow, if he thinks I’m in need of toughening up.”
Jude laughed, the pitch in his laugh ratcheting up an octave, as it often did when Erling made a joke. The sound never failed to make Erling laugh contagiously right alongside him.
However, Jude then surprised him by slapping him playfully on the shoulder and moving away from the bed. “Right, time to dry it,” he said, pointing towards the bathroom door.
That threw Erling off guard. He looked at Jude in disbelief. “Are you really this bored?”
“Come on, bathroom!” Jude called.
Erling sighed theatrically and rose from the bed. “I can’t believe we’re doing this instead of watching a film.”
The two men entered the hotel bathroom, where they were then confronted with the large bathroom mirror, and a challenge: the fact that Erling towered over Jude.
Jude had already reached for the hotel hairdryer, but realising the dilemma, placed it back on its hook, saying: “Hang on, let me get a chair.”
“You really don’t have to go to all this effort,” Erling said, shaking his head. He watched as Jude ran back into the bedroom, and then began dragging a chair across the bedroom floor, before positioning it in front of the mirror.
Jude ignored him, and signalled for Erling to sit in it. Erling sighed, laughing, and settled in the chair, turning his eyes towards the bathroom mirror.
There, he watched Jude standing above him, hairdryer in one hand, working out where to start.
“Do I need to worry about whether you’re considering a new career?” Erling teased.
“Ask me tomorrow, depending on how much punishment I get given. Keep your head still.”
Jude turned the hairdryer on and tested the temperature against his hand, then looked at Erling in the hotel mirror.
“I think this is the weirdest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Hey, once I’m done with you, you’ll be wanting me to style your hair every day.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Jude teased his fingers through a section of Erling’s hair, and then turned his eyes away from the mirror, and his attention fully towards drying Erling’s locks.
Erling’s eyes never left the mirror though. He took in the whole scene: him sitting in his dressing gown, Jude above him with his chest slightly pressed against his back, smelling fresh from the shower, hands moving gently through his hair and cupping sections of it, before letting the hairdryer run across the fair strands.
Erling found his attention locked on the pure concentration on Jude’s face. He had seen the same concentration earlier in the day while Jude was on the pitch. He was utterly focused on the job at hand - even if this was a ridiculous one - carefully checking for any missed knots in Erling’s hair, gently prising sections apart, and then running the hairdryer over the strands.
Erling watched as Jude’s fingers glided almost unconsciously through the temperature settings while he ran the hairdryer over Erling’s hair, making sure that when he held the dryer close to Erling’s scalp, the heat didn’t burn him.
He felt a tenderness sweep up over him at that moment, unlike any feeling he had felt for Jude before. He turned his neck to look up at his friend, whose eyes remained completely fixed on his hair, and drying the loose strands.
Jude registered his attention on him, and turned his brown eyes towards Erling, smiling.
“I told you to keep still,” he said.
Erling smiled back at him and moved his eyes back towards the mirror. “Fine.”
He sat patiently for a while, and watched as Jude turned his hair from the wet tangle of strands it had been when he’d left the shower, to straight blonde locks that seemed to bounce on his shoulder.
A warmth spread through him, in part due to the heat from the hairdryer, but intensified by the feeling of Jude’s chest against his back, and his breathing close to his ear, while his fingers moved unexpectedly gently through his hair.
Jude reached for a handful of Erling’s hair, and brushed his fingers through it from root to tip. Deciding that it was dry, he turned off the hairdryer and set it back on the hook. He then turned his eyes towards the mirror and ran his hands through the hair either side of Erling’s face, to check his work.
Erling thought that his hair didn’t look wholly different to how it usually looks. But he registered that something had changed. What had no doubt been a mindless task to Jude had felt extraordinarily intimate to Erling, especially as Jude’s hands last off had brushed across his cheeks. He was no longer blushing, but he grappled with letting the emotion show in his face as there were feelings there that he did not yet understand.
Still, once Jude’s hands had fallen back to his sides, he found himself looking up at him with gratitude.
“What do you think?” Jude asked. Erling thought he could detect a slightest note of apprehension in his voice, and a wariness in his eyes.
He decided against making a joke, and smiled fully at him. “I think you’ve done a really nice job.”
Jude grinned, planting both his hands on Erling’s broad shoulders and looking at him through the mirror. He then said, casually: “There we are, hair almost as good as mine.”
Erling smiled back at him in the mirror and hoped that Jude couldn’t see just how much what had just happened was affecting him. But without thinking, he reached out one of his hands and placed it over Jude’s. His large hand almost fully enclosed Jude’s, and he found himself unconsciously stroking his fingers along the back of Jude’s hand.
“Thanks, I guess,” he said casually.
The two of them took in the image reflected back at them: two smiling faces, Erling’s hand around Jude’s, bodies close to one another.
Jude’s eyes seemed to brighten, and he laughed, planting another quick playful peck on Erling’s cheek. His eyes never left Erling’s as he did so, and Erling watched as Jude’s eyes watched himself kiss him. Jude’s hand remained warm under his own.
Jude then suddenly raised his other hand to tap Erling on the shoulder, causing him to release their locked hands. “Come on,” he said quietly, “Let’s go have a look through the channels again.”
Jude left the bathroom, but it took Erling a moment before he rose to join him. The memory of the light kiss Jude had just given him still lingering against his cheek, and the feeling of Jude’s hand enclosed in his own seemed to remain on his senses.
He swallowed hard as he looked at his own reflection and tried to give a name to the intense feelings that had just come over him. He found himself thinking that he’d wanted the moment to last longer, and felt an unexpected loss at Jude’s departure from his side. His skin suddenly felt especially sensitive, and his heart seemed to beat faster in his chest.
It was in that moment that he realised he might have feelings for Jude.