Disclaimer: I don't own Galactik Football, I'm making no profit off this story and I don't claim that the events represented in this story are canon at all.
Summary: Obsession's never pretty & the worst part is that Aarch is always so oblivious. Artegor wants to strangle him every time that Aarch asks if they can just be friends again. Aarch x Artegor. Dedicated to GFSista and Mitsuko Soma, my two most faithful reviewers for my Netherworld series, whose reviews keep me writing. ^_~
Icarus Ascending
"Ready for tomorrow?" Aarch asked, watching Artegor comb his hair in front of the mirror. Artegor had been standing there for at least half an hour, and his hair, to Aarch, looked exactly the same as when Artegor started. Aarch never understood Artegor's obsession with his hair. It's hair. It looked black and pointy and somewhat spiky no matter how much Artegor combed it, gelled it, or glared at it.
"I'm ready." Artegor leaned in and peered more closely at the mirror. "Not sure my hair is."
A roll of his eyes, and Aarch threw a pillow at Artegor's back. "Your hair's not our striker, Artegor. Leave it alone and go sleep already."
"It's Akillian's big chance tomorrow." Artegor saw the pillow coming towards him in the mirror and snapped a hand behind him to catch it. He dropped it to the ground and took another look at himself. "I just want to look my best."
"How about you play your best instead?" Aarch retorted with a roll of his eyes as he got off the bed. "I'm going to check in with Norata and Adium. Stop fussing with your hair and get some sleep tonight."
Back to Artegor, he didn't notice that Artegor's lips had twisted into a snarl at the mention of Adium. Artegor knew that as team captain, Aarch was checking everyone's status before the match. Including his. He knew that it wasn't anything personal that had driven Aarch to stop by his room.
Still, choosing to visit Adium last?
To conceal his expression, Artegor put his hands over his face, pretending to fluff his hair up some more. Aarch just wanted a chance to spend some more time with his girlfriend. Bed her before the match for luck.
Stupid, stupid Aarch. Artegor was right there! He could do just as well as Adium could. Better, even. He and Aarch were strikers together. Adium was just a defender. The solidarity that he and Aarch shared should far outweigh the chemistry between Adium and Aarch.
But Aarch would never see that. Aarch was far too much of a blind, stupid idiot to see what was right in front of him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Our careers are over." Aarch's tone was blank, his head in his hands, his eyes staring unseeingly at the ground. Around him, the survivors from the stadium were bustling about, trying to pack up what they could and head for the caves. Aarch was the only one not moving. He'd seen the ball go into the goal; he'd seen it shatter along with his dreams.
The fact that his planet was now covered in ice and in the grips of a storm that looked likely to tear it apart hadn't even been grasped by him. All Aarch could see was that one moment when the ball had broken apart; he saw it in his mind's eye, over and over again.
It haunted him.
Artegor knelt in front of him and gripped Aarch's wrists. He pulled until Aarch's arms came down, exposing the raw anguish that made Aarch's mouth a harsh scowl and his pale blue eyes lifeless.
"Our careers are not over." Fierce words, and despite the tragedy, Artegor's heart was filled with a dangerous gladness. Norata had hastened to tend to his pregnant wife. Adium had run to see to her parents. Aarch was all alone, and Artegor was there to comfort him.
This was his chance to get Aarch away from Adium, and to give Aarch something so good that Aarch would be forever indebted to him.
Rapidly, Artegor spilled his plan, "Akillian's not the only planet with a Galactik Football team. The Shadows coach said that he'd give us both a spot. He said we'll get the Smog without a problem, and that we can be his star strikers."
"The Shadows?" Despite his posture of absolute despair, a spark of interest lit up Aarch's eyes at that idea. "They want us?"
Around them, everything was in chaos. The cold tiles of the transport hub bit painfully into Artegor's knees, but the blue of his eyes shone at this proof that he could reach Aarch, despite everything. "Yes! They've got a shuttle leaving right now. Two tickets, just for us. Then we can join their team, win the Cup – we can still make it. We'll be champions."
"But what about Norata? And Adium? And the rest of the team?" And the fact that it had taken Aarch so long to realize that Artegor was only talking about the two of them meant that Artegor knew that Aarch would accept.
Artegor looked around deliberately, "Do you see them anywhere, Aarch? Norata's gone already. Adium too. Everyone's gone." He dropped his voice, low and intense, hands sliding down Aarch's wrists until he was holding the other man's hands within both of his. "We're the ones that care about football the most. We're the star strikers. We are the ones who deserve this; need this."
Aarch's expression wavered between hopeful and doubting, his eyes darting over the crowd as if searching for one of their other teammates to show up to convince him to stay. "But Akillian – we should stay and do something. Help somehow--"
"By doing what?" Artegor broke in harshly to Aarch's feeble attempt to persuade himself to not take what Artegor was offering. "Digging away snow? Building snow houses? We're footballers, Aarch! We're meant for this sport. We're not going to do any good if we stay here. It might salve your conscience, but that's it."
His grasp on Aarch's hands tightened, and in Artegor's violet-blue eyes, the promise of a better future shone. "This is our way out, Aarch. You owe it to the galaxy to take it. We're too good to be stuck here, wasting our talent."
When Aarch's gaze dipped downwards and fixed on their joined hands, Artegor knew that he had him.
"When does the shuttle leave?" Aarch asked finally, and his voice was rough with a terrible guilt.
"Right now." Artegor wasn't going to give Aarch a chance to change his mind. He stood up, and let go of Aarch's hand, jerking his head in the direction of a small, private shuttle. "Come on."
"I should at least say goodbye to--"
Again, Artegor didn't give Aarch a chance to finish his thought. "You can call them from the shuttle. The coach's already been holding the shuttle for us. We shouldn't keep him waiting."
He turned around and started to walk off confidently. Aarch would follow, Artegor knew. Aarch couldn't be the Captain without his team and right now, Artegor was the only team member around.
Aarch would follow him. Artegor was sure of that. Aarch was his now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"What if we don't get the Smog?" Aarch tossed on his bed restlessly, gripping the bedsheets as if pulling them apart would relieve his stress.
"We will." Artegor found it odd to be the confident one suddenly, but it was good. It meant that Aarch was turning to him for comfort. If Artegor was in the lead, he could lead Aarch into doing what he wanted. Eventually. He wasn't going to rush Aarch and risk losing the hold he had on him. Better to ease him into it slowly.
"And if we don't?" The Smog hadn't shown up in any of the practices. The Shadows were looking at them sideways. Aarch wasn't sure that they'd keep their place on the team if the Smog didn't manifest soon.
"It will." Artegor put as much confidence in his voice as he could, turning on his side so that he faced Aarch's bed. The Archipelago's faint purple light fell over Aarch through the slits of the window, throwing long shadows from his eyeslashes and bangs of hair. The blocks of shadow caused by his eyebrows looked almost like eyeshadow to Artegor's thinking; he kept his eyes slitted open just a little, and watched as Aarch's twisting stilled, the striker lying on his back and staring at the ceiling instead.
"Artegor, do you think Adium and Noarata will be watching out match tomorrow?" Guilt twisted in Aarch's stomach as he pronounced their names. His brother had refused to speak to him once he'd realized that Aarch had left the planet; Adium, presumably forewarned by Noarata, hadn't even accepted the call.
"Are you joking?" Artegor snorted, opening his eyes fully and giving Aarch one of his most arrogant grins, the white flash of his teeth bright in the darkened room. "The whole galaxy'll be watching."
He couldn't let Aarch dwell on what they'd left behind with their first official match with the Shadows tomorrow, so he slid out of his bed, leaving the tangled but warm sheets behind him, and dropped down to sit on the edge of Aarch's bed. Before Aarch could ask what his friend thought he was doing, Artegor pressed his hand over Aarch's mouth, gentle but firm.
His grin turned into a smirk, Artegor looking down at Aarch with something that could be mistaken for a fond, exasperated tenderness. "Now shut up, or we'll never get any sleep. I'm going to sit here until you fall asleep, and I'm not taking my hand off your mouth until that happens."
Aarch laughed, the sound muffled by Artegor's hand, and closed his eyes. Artegor's skin smelled faintly like the Smog but mostly, it was like Artegor. Akillian skin, cool and soft, a heavy hint of petroleum jelly from the cream that they used to keep their skin from chapping. It made Aarch relax and drop off into sleep much sooner than he'd been expecting.
Even after Aarch had fallen asleep, Artegor kept his hand over Aarch's mouth, just for the feeling of the other male's lips pressed against his palm. In his chest, his heart beat rapidly and hard, Artegor feeling his pulse against the roof of his mouth, his tongue, as Aarch's mouth burnt its imprint into his skin. So close. The heat of Aarch's mouth wafted out in an oval of moistness, and Artegor groaned as quietly as he could, one hand sneaking down to press over his groin where he was so hard that it ached.
He wanted Aarch so much. Sitting there, right next to him, sitting still was a form of torture in itself.
But Aarch was his best friend, and Aarch wasn't ready yet. If Artegor woke him up, Aarch wouldn't react well to seeing how aroused Artegor was, simply from having Aarch's mouth under his mouth.
He made himself get up, and go to the bathroom. The water of the shower would cover the noise he made. Pressing his hand over his own mouth was like kissing Aarch second-hand; if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that it was Aarch's hand traveling steadily down his chest.
When Artegor came, it was with Aarch's name on his lips as a strangled groan against his hand.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I think that girl wants you. Blonde in the purple dress, left corner." Aarch told Artegor, leaning in a little closer over the drinks so that nobody could see him whispering to his teammate.
"Not interested." Artegor didn't even look in her direction.
Aarch gave a roll of his eyes and smacked Artegor on the arm, "What's wrong with you? Ever since we've got famous, girls have been all over us and you don't pay attention to any of them!"
"Yeah." Artegor couldn't argue with that. The fact that Aarch's social life seemed to have expanded from only Adium to any girl that looked at him twice was not what Artegor had had in mind when he dragged Aarch to the Shadows Archipelago. The girls weren't even human!
Artegor was practically the only person who was physically compatible with Aarch on the entire planet, and he still wasn't having any luck. This was a special kind of hell. Artegor didn't even want to think about what Aarch managed to do with the Shadows girls that had him coming back to their quarter in the morning with such a satisfied smile. He had tried arguing once that the Shadows were only basically humanoid, but since Aarch's smug response had been 'they've got mouths', Artegor had very quickly dropped that line of thought.
And now they were out at some stupid club, downing stupid drinks, and Aarch was looking at Artegor expectantly.
"What?" Artegor snapped, poking his straw at the bottom of the glass.
"Why aren't you interested in anyone?" Aarch jibed good-naturedly, "You already got a secret girlfriend you haven't told me about?"
"If I was sneaking someone into our room, don't you think that you'd have noticed by now?" Artegor counted, not in a mood to have to put up with Aarch's not-so-subtle attempts to question him. He pushed the nearly empty drink away, getting up with only the slightest unsteadiness. "I'm going back to the pitch to practice."
Aarch snorted, grabbing the drink and finishing it off for Artegor, "Practice, practice, practice. Sometimes I think you're more obsessed with football than I am."
Over his shoulder, Artegor smirked at Aarch as he left, "That's why I'm the better striker."
The noise of the music drowned out whatever reply Aarch made.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Artegor bounced the ball from his knee to his foot, then spun and shot it into the goal. He'd lost track of how long he'd been out there. Hours, it felt like. And Aarch was probably still back in that bar with some girl. Or even worse, back in her room.
The thought made him kick the ball viciously into the netting once more.
"ARTEGOR!" Aarch called out as he jogged towards his friend.
Artegor nearly sent the ball spiraling towards him out of sheer spite. Instead, he trapped it under his foot and waited for Aarch to catch up to him. "What?"
Aarch looked less drunk now. Not quite sober, but the jog had shaken some sobriety back into him. "You were upset with me, weren't you? That's why you left."
Artegor stared at Aarch in absolute disbelief, "It took you that long to catch on?"
"Were you counting how many shots of alk I'd had? Because I wasn't." Aarch countered pointedly, tapping the pitch with his foot to indicate that Artegor should pass to him.
Artegor didn't say anything, but he did kick the ball over as a sign of silent forgiveness. Aarch caught it easily, then sent it spinning into the goal too.
"Artegor." Aarch jogged closer and caught Artegor's hands, both of them. The smell of alcohol was gone from his breath, replaced instead by mint; he'd brushed his teeth before coming. "Whatever I said, I'm sorry."
His eyes were so sincere; Artegor caught himself staring and unable to look away.
Aarch took Artegor's silence as meaning that he should continue. "Whether you've got someone special or you just don't like dating out of your species, I don't care. Do you understand, Artegor? I don't care. I'll stop pushing girls at you and trying to get you to open up."
"Aarch." Artegor's voice was strained; all his plans, all his calculations, and it came down to this? One moment of honesty in a playing pitch at night? He knew what he was going to say. He couldn't not say it. He was so tired of this. He was tired of having to be the master mind. He was tired of having to always be two steps ahead of Aarch, of having to steer Aarch into doing what he wanted.
For once in his life, he wanted to just ask for something and get it. For once in his life, he wanted to be as simple and uncomplicated as Aarch was.
For once in his life, he wanted to be honest.
"I want you." As soon as he said the words, he knew he couldn't take them back. Or even bluff them out. He'd made his move; all he could do now was wait for everything to crumble around him.
Confusion chased comprehension across Aarch's face and in a sick way, Artegor was glad that he hadn't said 'I love you'. That, Aarch could've pretended to misunderstand. This, there was no way to explain away. He'd said it. Everything he'd done had come down to this.
Time stretched out inexorably slow, and Artegor felt as if every beat of his heart lasted minutes as he waited for Aarch to speak.
When Aarch finally did, it was somewhat anti-climatic. "What?"
Artegor sighed, and before Aarch could react, he'd struck, stepping forwards and into Aarch's personal space, grabbing Aarch by the shirt and yanking his mouth down forcefully into a kiss. It wasn't how he'd imagined it; too fast, too hurried, too frightened and too rough.
But it was Aarch, and his mouth was slack under Artegor's with surprise, and though he wasn't kissing back, he wasn't resisting.
Artegor took that as encouragement, and deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue over Aarch's lower lip in a hint for him to respond. At that, Aarch did, though not in the way that Artegor wanted. He shoved Artegor back, and wiped a hand over his mouth, expression stunned. "Artegor! I—you – what?!"
Artegor refused to look as devastated as he felt. Instead, he pulled up what little courage he had left and repeated forcefully, "I want you."
'I love you. ' Artegor stopped himself from saying it. He'd keep that much of his dignity at least.
Instead, he explained flatly, "I don't date anyone because I want you, not them."
'Because it's you I watch when the matches end. Because it's the sound of your breathing that lets me fall asleep at night. Because when you hug me, I want to shove you against something and kiss you senseless. Because I wake up sticky and wet when I dream of you. Because you're blunt and obvious and so unlike me. Because you trust me when you shouldn't. Because you care about me. Because I love you.'
"But." Aarch's open-mouthed expression of shock made him look as if someone had hit him in the solar plexus with a football. "I. Since when?"
Artegor knew exactly since when. He wasn't going to tell Aarch that. "It doesn't matter." The words were harsh, self-loathing edging them sharply. "I know you don't feel the same way."
He wasn't going to give Aarch the chance to turn him down. Better to make it clear that he didn't expect a positive response right from the start (even if part of Artegor hoped Aarch woul contradict him).
"Artegor." Aarch began uncertainly, and the tone of voice made it clear to Artegor that he wasn't going to receive a reciprocal confession of love, "Can we still be friends?"
For saying that, Artegor wanted to hit Aarch. The Smog hissed through his veins, begging to be freed, and Artegor clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Of course Aarch would want to be friends. Who else did Aarch have left? That didn't mean that Artegor had to still be Aarch's friend.
…Except he was. Before everything else, before he'd wanted Aarch, before he'd realized what he felt for Aarch was lust – he'd been friends with Artegor. And if Artegor was all that Aarch had, Aarch was all that Artegor had as well.
"Sure, Aarch." Artegor forced a smile and held out a hand, "We'll still be friends."
This time, when Aarch took Artegor's hand and pulled him into a hug, there was an awkwardness there that wasn't there before, a stiffness and distance on Aarch's part that was new and unpleasant.
Still, at least Artegor had Aarch as a friend. Artegor told himself he'd be content with that.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Then Aarch came down with Smog poisoning and quit the team. He moved to planet Wamba and fell in love with a native there.
Artegor didn't even have Aarch as a friend anymore.
He told himself he didn't need Aarch and shifted Aarch into a new category in his mind: Enemy.
He told himself he would never make the mistake of letting Aarch in his life again.
He didn't.
(And then he lost the Smog and he lost his team and he lost everything and Aarch was there and he broke Artegor's heart all over again.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Note: Everyone knows that Aarch x Artegor is canon and yet, I couldn't find a single fic for them anywhere! So I wrote one. Don't worry, I'm not giving up on my Netherworld fic. XD I just thought that I'd throw up a quick one-shot here for the most canon subtext pairing around. I'm still in the process of writing the next Netherworld chapter and should have it up tomorrow or whatnot. Review, please! I absolutely love feedback, like all other authors.
And if you read this fic once before and are wondering why it's suddenly different – I changed the confession section and the ending a little. I thought it worked better like this since I'd finished the story in somewhat of a hurry last night. Tell me what you think!