Arthur- Senior
Alfred- Junior
Fall
It all started with an innocent conversation in the locker room after practice.
"So!" Travis sang, throwing an arm around Alan's shoulders. The linesman instantly pushed him away, grumbling to himself about the quarterback's smell. Travis was undeterred however, and kept at it. "You gonna be making a move tonight? Offering the lovely Miss Lien your practice jersey for the game tomorrow?"
Alan's face immediately took on a pink hue, and with a huff, he threw his sweaty socks in Travis's face. "Shut the fuck up, d-bag," he snapped.
Travis squeaked, dodging the socks with a laugh. When he popped back up, he ruffled up his disgruntled teammate's hair. "Dude, you have been stuck on her since freshman year! It's pathetic!"
Alfred shook his head, toweling off his hair from his recent shower. "Don't give your jersey to Lien, bro. You'll catch the bitchy."
The guys all rolled their eyes. "I will never understand why you two hate each other so much," Travis sighed.
"She's horrible!" he exclaimed. "She hit me with a paddle!"
"Y' deserved it," Berwald piped in from somewhere in the room.
Alfred glared in the general direction of the voice, and resumed getting dressed. "I'm just saying," he slipped his shirt on over his head, "there are plenty of other, nicer, fish in the sea." He paused. "Ones who don't go around whacking people with paddles."
"Y' were bein' a dick."
"SHUT UP, BERWALD."
"Well, what about you?" Travis asked, turning his attention to Alfred. "Which little fishy are you going to be giving your practice jersey to? Like-I-have-to-ask," he stage-mumbled under his breath with a grin.
Alfred blushed. "That, would be none of your business."
"Right," Travis deadpanned, "none of my business. HEY GUYS!" he exclaimed to the whole locker room. "WHO IS ALFRED GOING TO TRY TO GIVE HIS JERSEY TO?"
"KIRKLAND." came the resounding reply.
"THANKS!" Alfred glared dangerously while Travis smirked triumphantly. "It's no secret, broseph."
"You're a dick."
"And you are a pussy, because we both know that you are, once again, going to chicken out asking Arthur. It's the World U/Southern game! At home! There is no better opportunity!"
Alfred sighed, fastening the belt on his jeans. "It's more complicated than just that, dude."
For as long as anyone could remember, World University and Southern Tech had been rivals. No one actually knew why they were rivals anymore, but that game was always the most brutal, the most nerve-wracking, the most satisfying when they won, and the most heartbreaking when they lost.
Somewhere in history, the tradition of giving a sweetheart your practice jersey to wear during the game as support started, and had been carried on ever since. Alfred knew that there was no better opportunity to make some sort of step forward in his relationship with Arthur, but based on his track record the last two years, it was simply not meant to be.
Freshman year, he had attempted the subtlety route, and casually brought up the fact that he had no one to give his jersey to over lunch. Of course, some girl from his English class had overheard, and instantly offered herself for the job before Arthur could even open his mouth, and Alfred was too nice to turn her down.
The year before, sophomore year, he had tried leaving the jersey on Arthur's bed with a note that said "Wear Me! :)" Not only did Arthur completely miss the note and not wear the jersey, he was pissed off at Alfred for two solid days for leaving his "dirty, old, smelly clothes all over his room again."
It was freaking ridiculous.
"Okay, even if I did somehow manage to ask him without things going wrong, he wouldn't wear it! He'd be like," and here he put on his best (in other words, absolutely horrible) English accent, "'I'm not wearing that bloody thing. I'm not a bloody woman, you bloody git!'"
Travis rolled his eyes. "Guys wear the jerseys all the time. I mean, look at Tino! He's been wearing Berwald's for years! Right, Waldo?"
"S' right."
"There ya go!"
Alfred glared into the abyss of the locker room, wherever Berwald was hiding, and groaned in irritation. "Arthur's different though. Berwald and Tino are actually dating."
"Don't forget Roderich," Alan added, coming out of the showers, where he had apparently been listening to the whole conversation.
Alfred puffed up his cheeks. "Okay, stop right there. He wears Liz's, that's totally not even close to the same situation. Plus, they're dating too!"
"You and Arthur could also be dating, if you would just man up, and ask the damn boy to wear your jersey," Travis pointed out. Alfred pouted.
"I'm leaving now," he said, grabbing his gym bag and heading to the door.
"Do the right thing!" Travis called after him, but Alfred was already out the door, flipping the bird behind him.
O
Arthur didn't even go to American football games before Alfred.
He had no particular love of the game; hell, he had no idea what was even going on during one. And not to mention he was on the proper football team, which meant the age-old animosity of both sports going on at the same time, and one getting far more support, money, and attention than the other.
But somehow, his roommate had managed to change his attitude.
The fact that he was beautiful to watch, and those tight trousers making his arse look sinfully good aside, the boy truly loved the sport, and the feeling he got when Alfred's eyes would light up when he found him in the bleachers was addicting, and kept him coming back for more.
In other words, he was hopelessly, pathetically enamored with that boy, and it was seriously beginning to affect his judgement.
And if the growing pile of clothing he was setting aside to wear during the colder than hell game the next day was anything to go by, his health was being affectedas well.
"Knock, knock!" Arthur jumped as Alfred's face popped through the door, sporting a big, stupid grin. "Getting ready for the game tomorrow?" he asked, eyeing the mound of clothes on the bed in amusement.
Arthur crossed his arms. "Yes, and you better be bloody happy about it. It's supposed to be minus two out there!"
Alfred crinkled his nose in distaste. "Dude, don't exaggerate, it's only gonna be like, twenty-nine."
They had been down this road far too many times before, so Arthur decided to forgo the Fahrenheit vs Celsius argument for today, and continue picking out his warmest outfit instead. He held up two pairs of pants to test for thickness. "Be that as it may, it's still freezing." He made his decision with a nod. "And furthermore, I should win an award for agreeing to stand out in the wind to watch a game in which I have no clue what the dynamics are, just to watch you run around for thirty seconds and then stop."
A smug glance at Alfred over his shoulder revealed that the boy was not, in fact, ready to argue that American football was much more than just running and stopping, as he expected, but that he actually looked...nervous?
"Ha ha, yeah," Alfred said weakly, clearing his throat. One hand fiddled with the hem of his shirt, as the other stayed hidden behind his back. Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the hidden hand as Alfred cleared his throat again and continued speaking. "So, uh, hey, Artie?" he asked.
"Yes...?" he replied hesitantly.
Alfred hesitated for a few long moments, biting his lip and maneuvering his eyes to focus on every single thing in Arthur's room but Arthur himself. Finally, he took a deep breath and smiled. "I-if you're so worried about being cold," he said almost shyly, pulling whatever he was hiding behind his back out into the open, "what if I gave you one more layer to keep you warm?"
Arthur froze. In Alfred's outstretched hand was his practice jersey, all blue and green, with the slightly tattered "50" that could only be in that state from hours of roughhousing out on the field.
The shock and surprise must have shown on Arthur's face, as Alfred immediately jumped to the defensive. "I-I mean, only if you wanna! I know it's usually a-" he coughed, "couple thing, but like, you're my best friend and stuff, so I figured, you know..." He shrugged, now wringing the jersey in both of his hands. "Uh, I-I washed it."
Arthur was ninety percent sure he was going to melt.
Okay, Alfred has used that blasted f-word, but he was asking him to wear his jersey, for the biggest game of the year! Him! Even if it was just as friends, there was no way in hell Arthur was letting this opportunity get away from him.
"I would be- I mean... Of course I will, Alfred," he said, as calmly as he could. He tried not to look the American directly in the eye, knowing he had to have been blushing clear up to ears already, and not wanting to make it worse.
Alfred, for his part, looked as though a million tons of weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Yeah?" he breathed in relief. "Oh man, that's... that's awesome, dude!" Gratefully, he handed Arthur the jersey, who instantly held it to his chest protectively.
"My pleasure," he said with a smile.
Alfred grinned. "Well, I'm, uh, I'm gonna go ahead and get to bed. Big game tomorrow, ya know."
Arthur nodded. "Right, right. Best be off."
"Uh-huh."
They continued staring at each other, until finally, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, goodnight."
"Right!" Alfred chirped, running a hand through his hair. "Right, right! G'night, Artie! See you tomorrow!"
Arthur waved as Alfred disappeared into his room, only daring to move once Alfred was safely inside. Stepping back into his own room, Arthur carefully closed the door behind him and took a deep breath.
On one side of the wall, Alfred pumped his fist into the air in silent celebration, while Arthur hugged the jersey to his chest and silently squealed on the other.
O
Alfred was gone already by the time Arthur woke up the next morning, so he opted to try to keep his mind off the impending game. He made himself a bowl of cold cereal and tea while he watched the weather forecast on the telly (bloody freezing, as he expected), went online to check his e-mail, and then finally, allowed himself to get dressed.
He started off with a layer of his running spandex, then his thickest jeans, two pairs of wool socks, a long sleeve shirt, a fuzzy jumper, his tracksuit jacket, and finally...
Alfred's practice jersey.
He was blushing just looking at the thing.
Fairly certain that just wearing it would keep him warmer than twenty layers of clothing, Arthur slipped the jersey over his head, and shyly glanced at himself in his mirror. His red face stood out against the blue of the jersey and the green of the 50, accenting both.
"Arthur?" Matthew asked, sticking his head into Arthur's room. "Are you ready to- Oh!"
Blushing even deeper, Arthur spun away from the mirror in an obvious attempt to make it look like he was not, in fact, swooning over the jersey in the mirror, and glared at Matthew. "Bloody hell! Don't sneak up on me like that!" he snapped.
Matthew smirked knowingly. "Sorry about that, eh. Are you ready to go? Kat's waiting in the kitchen."
"Yes, yes, just a moment." Arthur threw on a hat and some mittens, and with one last subtle attempt to admire himself in the mirror (which Matthew pretended not to notice, because he was a nice guy like that), they were out the door, headed to the stadium.
O
The stadium and the surrounding area were already brimming with people by the time the trio arrived, and Arthur found himself grateful that they lived on campus and didn't need to find parking.
Katyusha lead the boys into the stadium and to their seats in the student section. Arthur noticed a few curious glances sent his way, but no one made too big of a deal, so he ignored it. He wasn't the first guy to wear another guy's jersey, and he could only assume that no one quite realized which player's jersey he was actually wearing.
That, or everyone knew exactly whose jersey it was, and no one was remotely surprised, but Arthur chose not to think about that.
The cheerleaders cheered and the band played as the speakers blared with the announcers telling bits and pieces of updates as to what was going on down on the field. A remote-controlled, flying camera, Arthur knew was piloted by Kiku somewhere, flew over the field and bleachers, playing the footage on the large screen above the scoreboard.
Compared to a normal game, there were certainty more people, and much more energy in the air, as to be expected when playing their biggest rival, but Arthur was grateful for the extra body heat. Even if it meant his peers were even more annoying, drunk, and loud than usual, even he had to admit the nervous excitement was contagious.
He wondered if Alfred was nervous as well.
"Hey guys!"
The small group turned, spotting an excited looking Tino and a rather defeated looking Roderich climbing up the stairs. They waved, moving aside so their teammates could join them. Arthur tried not to stare at the large 46 draped over Tino's small frame, or the rather tight 7 that graced Roderich.
"You guys excited for the game?" Tino asked excitedly. "I sure am! I'm so glad we're playing at home this year, too. I mean, I wouldn't miss this game for the world, and I went to last year's at Southern, but it was so much more convenient to be here, right?" He turned to Arthur, his eyes lightening up when he noticed what he was wearing. "Is that Alfred's jersey? How exciting! Is he excited for the game? Or is he nervous? I know Berwald has been talking about it nonstop for the past week!"
Somehow, Arthur found that doubtful, but he forced a smile and a nod anyway. "Fairly excited, I'd wager," he replied. "I haven't spoken to him much this past week, to be honest. With the extra practices and everything."
Tino nodded with a grin, then turned to Roderich, who looked down his nose at him, clearly unimpressed. "What about Elizabeta?" he asked. "How was she feeling about the game today?"
"I have no idea," he scoffed. A delicate hand fiddled with the fabric of her jersey, as a traitorous blush dusted his cheeks. "As long as she doesn't kill herself, I tend not to worry."
"Understandable," Katyusha giggled. "Liz can take care of herself." Roderich blushed and turned his nose back into the air, signaling the musician no longer wanted to talk about his football-playing girlfriend.
Finally, the commentators announced that the game would be getting started. Southern Tech took the field, to the chorus of light cheering and loud booing, until the World University team ran out from the tunnel as well. The crowd erupted, even Arthur, whose eyes had yet to stray from number 50 from the moment he emerged from the tunnel.
Somehow, even if he couldn't see the number, Arthur knew exactly which padded, helmeted player was Alfred. Francis would probably say something about it being because of true amour, or some such nonsense, but Arthur attributed it to simply spending a lot of time with the other boy, and that was it.
The team ran around a little, bumping helmets, chests, and fists, before half of the team took to the sidelines and the others took their positions. Sadly, Alfred was part of the group that was not on the field, which meant they were on defense (see? Arthur had learned something!) and he had to wait to see him in action.
Elizabeta (distinguishable by the big 7 on her chest, and the fact that she was a good head shorter than every other player) kicked the ball out to the other team, and the game got underway.
Without Alfred to watch, or any idea of what was actually going on, Arthur honestly found the whole thing quite boring, and found himself watching Gilbert and the other crazy and shirtless members of the cross country team shouting obscenities at everything that moved far more than the game itself. Thankfully, Matthew, sweetheart that he was, attempted to at least give him a bit of insight through his commentary.
"So, now that they've tried three times to get to that bright orange marker there, they have to chose to go for it one more time, or kick it and let us have a go," he explained. "And it looks like they're going to try for it!"
The crowd broke into cheers of "dee-fense!", and then held their collective breath as the ball was snapped, thrown, and- A whistle blew and yellow flags flew.
"Looks like pass interference," Tino said with a small pout. Arthur scrunched up his nose in irritation.
"And that's a foul?" he asked incredulously. "What the bloody hell are they supposed to do? Not interfere with a pass? Just let the bloke have it?"
"It does not make any sense to me either," Katyusha admitted with a shrug.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I will never understand this game."
Southern had the ball for a few more minutes as Feliks and the other cheerleaders kept spirits up until the ball was finally surrendered over.
Finally, Arthur thought as the offense prepared to take the field. Alfred's beautiful form jogged out to its place, and Arthur stood just a bit straighter, glad to finally have something worthwhile to pay attention to.
They hiked the ball to the quarterback, Alfred's good friend Travis, who paused as he looked for an opening. He found one in Berwald (Tino cheered exceptionally loud as the pass connected), but he was quickly taken down by one of the opposing players, gaining only a few yards in the process.
The next play was a short throw down the field, and Arthur felt his heart skip a beat as Alfred made the catch. It was as if he was transported through time, to the time of battling gladiators and jousting knights, watching his champion fight for victory.
"GO ALFRED, GO!" he cried, his hands subconsciously clutching his jersey, and his face weighed down with nervous excitement and worry. All Alfred had to do was get to the orange thing, Arthur thought furiously to himself, his eyes trained on that green number 50 and nothing else. Just get to the orange thing, he could do it!
He was brought down by a rather large defensive lineman, three yards passed where he needed to reach, but was up rather quickly, to Arthur's relief.
"Oh thank goodness," he breathed as Alfred was helped up by a teammate. The crowd cheered around him, and he found himself blushing and proud somehow, to be wearing the jersey of the man they all cheered so enthusiastically for.
"I don't think I've ever heard you cheer at a game before, Arthur," Tino said brightly.
Arthur cleared his throat. "W-well it is a big game after all," he grumbled, adverting his eyes. Unbeknown to him, Matthew and Katyusha smiled at each other knowingly.
"He's just showing his support for his little hero, eh Arthur?" Matthew snickered, pulling at the sleeve of the jersey. Arthur's coughed out indigently.
"What?"
"Aww!" Katyusha cooed with a giggle. Arthur glared at her traitorously.
Tino laughed, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Aw, Arthur, don't be embarrassed, it's totally normal to be proud of your significant other!"
"He's not my significant other!" Arthur cried out.
"Right Roderich?" Tino continued, ignoring him.
Roderich, who was sitting at the end of the bleacher with a small pile of sheet music and a pen, glanced up briefly before waving them all off. "Right, right, sure."
Arthur huffed, crossing his arms and deciding stubbornly that he officially hated all of his friends.
The game carried on rather uneventfully (with Arthur keeping his cheering to a minimum because, again, he hated his friends), both teams evenly matched and keeping the points relativity low. By the fourth quarter, with a score of Southern Tech at 21 and World U at 17, it was obvious that the payers were getting a little anxious. World U needed a touchdown to win, a field goal wouldn't cut it, and the pressure was beginning to show through both team's sloppy playing. Late hits and unnecessary roughness calls were made almost every play (though Arthur would argue not nearly enough every time Alfred was hit. He didn't care what Matthew said about that not being the way the call worked, those hits look far too unnecessarily rough to him) as the clock ticked away.
A short time-out was called by World U, and when the team returned to the field to thunderous cheers and applause, Arthur found himself saying fuck-off to the sneers and jeers, and clapped along with them. The play was called out, the ball was snapped, and the players took off down the field. Travis hesitated for just a moment before pulling his arm back, and lobbing the ball deep into the end zone.
Of course, Arthur thought with a groan as he tracked the ball's course through the sky. It was headed directly toward Alfred.
Alfred, who was heavily guarded by a Southern Tech player about three times his size, both in height and width.
Arthur bit his lip and held his breath, too nervous to do more than chant quietly to himself, a soft mantra of "Please catch it, please catch it, please catch it..." as he watched Alfred flex his hands to do just that.
O
He knew the ball was coming right at him. He also knew, if the hulking figure blocking out sun for nearly the entire end zone was any indication, that he was heavily guarded.
That didn't matter though, the only thing that mattered at that moment was getting his hands on that football, and the little blond dot sporting a bright green 50 that was standing in the bleachers, watching him. He took a deep breath, dug his feet into the ground, and jumped, stretching his hand into the air and grasping the ball with all of his might.
His feet hadn't yet touched the ground when he felt the weight of the bulky opponent slam into him, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud that seemed to echo through the stadium. He was painfully aware of the hardness of the astroturf, the knee digging into his stomach, and a helmet loudly smacking into his. He was even more aware of the additional weight piling on top of him, and the hands grasping desperately for the ball, but he clenched his teeth and held on as tight as he could.
Finally the whistle blew, drowning out the gasps and "ooooh"'s of the fans, and signaling that the other players could get the fuck off of him already.
Apparently, time had run out somewhere between his catching the ball and crashing into the ground, because the moment his teammates and the refs saw him holding the ball and announced the touchdown, the entire stadium erupted into thunderous applause, whooping, whistling and hollering. Alfred was swept up into hugs, his back and helmet were slapped, until Travis ripped it off of his head to ruffle up his sweaty hair.
Elizabeta made the extra point at some point, successfully ending the game with a score of 24 to 21, and this was apparently the signal for the fans to lose their minds, as they began leaping over the railing and storming the field in a giant wave of green and blue.
"Great job out there Alfred!"
"Good work, Jones!"
"Congrats, Al!"
Alfred smiled and thanked all of the people who came up to congratulate him on the win, all the while, keeping his eye out for one specific person. Sure, he wasn't exactly the type to go storming the field with the rest, but maybe, just this once-
"YOU STUPID, IDIOTIC GIT!"
Ah, there we go.
Arthur pushed his way through the crowd, before launching himself into Alfred's chest and beating it lightly. "You're so stupid!" he exclaimed. "This game is stupid! What were you thinking? He could have crushed you, you wanker! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"
Alfred blinked back, holding his arms up in surrender and amusement as Arthur berated him. Travis, who had his arm around his girlfriend, smiled at him sympathetically, but Alfred just shrugged. He knew he would get his congratulations as soon as the shock of his nearly impending death wore off.
Sure, it wasn't as romantic as some of the other couples out of the field (Tino and Berwald, for example, were so freaking adorable they were giving people cavities), but out here, getting his ass chewed out by Arthur, after winning the biggest game of the year while his roommate wore his jersey?
Well, call him a masochist, but he couldn't think of anything better.
Whew! Sorry for the long wait, you guys! I hope this makes up for it! :)
Some stuff I wish I could have gone into more detail with: Liz being on the football team, Gil and the other XC boys being half naked and annoying and eventually getting kicked out of the game, the fact that Ivan plays the tuba in the marching band, Arthur, Ludwig, Feliciano, Antonio, Kiku, Romano (And to be honest, most of the other countries XD) being football *coughsoccercough* buddies, Feliks being a cheerleader, etc. Maybe next time!
Anyway, I've talked enough. Hope you've enjoyed, and don't forget to review!
-Car