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To say Andy was in a bad mood, would probably be an understatement. In fact, he hadn’t been in a proper good mood for a while now. What with the gaffer leaving, his shoulder injury- now his ankle, and a combination of Liverpool’s and Scotland’s shit performances- there wasn’t much to be happy about.
Andy sucked in a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, soothing but not enough to evade the dark cloud that clawed him.
Scotland’s tournament had been diabolical- and they paid for it too, losing against Hungary tonight confirmed their knockout from the Euros. He hadn’t expected to get far— he wasn’t delusional, but advancing from the group stages would have been something. Would have given him a slither of dignity, a slither of satisfaction when the captain’s armband wrapped around his bicep so tight- a pressing reminder of the expectations he could never seem to live up to.
A draw would’ve been fine too, but of course, the universe had other plans. So here Andy stands, outside his five star hotel, staring up at the stars and using each minuscule blink of light to try and distract himself, connecting the dots and creating shapes, trying to ignore the way that his thoughts race back to the match, ignoring the dull ache of pain in his ankle every time he shifts his weight.
Maybe if he weren’t so keen for a distraction he wouldn’t have paid attention to the faint scent of burning tobacco wafting through the air. The all too familiar scent that had Andy’s fingers twitching, mouth salivating, heart pounding against his chest with a dose of adrenaline.
A cigarette would take the edge off.
He knew he shouldn’t, he’d been forced to give up a long while ago; but occasionally, times when he was at his lowest, he’d allow himself to indulge in the poison.
Andy trudged towards the smell, hopefully whoever it was wouldn’t be a complete arsehole and deny him a luxury he’d been thinking about for the past twelve months. Maybe he’d be able to charm them if they looked unsure; he had a knack for that.
He veered around the hotel building and silently walked down the side of it. It might’ve been unsettling, Andy was closed in by another ten foot wall on the other side of him and in the dark he could faintly make out the culprit that had set his cravings off, sitting neatly on the floor with his hood up.
Not the welcoming sight he’d hoped for.
When Andy pushed through the nagging in the back of his mind telling him the cigarette wasn’t worth it he’d come to a halt in front of the man, who only now seemed familiar. Andy frowned, the way that he’d pulled his legs into his chest so effortlessly, wrapped his arms around them like he were trying to offer himself some comfort, tilted his head down to the ground like he were scared to be seen.
Andy’s eyes caught on the lit cigarette, held gently between two trembling fingers.
“Dom?”
The guy didn’t move, didn’t even flinch— and it had Andy rethinking his assumption all over again, mildly embarrassed that he’d just croaked out a random name into the air as if he were mentally deranged.
“What do you want, Robbo?” It was quiet, had no real bite to it, but Andy still felt something twist in his stomach.
Andy’s eyes drew on a cigarette butt at Dominik’s feet, looking far too fresh to have been used by anyone other than him. “Didn’t take you as a chain-smoker.”
Dominik took a long drag, a cloud of smoke dissipating into the air as he glanced up at Andy. “A what?”
His eyes were stripped of their usual glint, his lips weren’t tugging up at the edges like they so often did, his body language was stoic, cold, unwelcoming.
“A chain-smoker—“ Andy hadn’t imagined Dominik touching a cigarette at all, the sight of the cig between his lips had shocked him a little, “one after the other."
Andy awaited Dominik’s response, and when he didn’t get one he promptly crouched and inelegantly collapsed onto the pavement next to him. The cold seeping into his skin was nice, though Andy wasn’t sure how long they’d have before rain engulfed them, it hadn't stopped for most of the day, and it looked as though another wave was rolling in judging by the distant rumbling above.
Andy pulled his legs into his chest, mirroring the man next to him, most likely looking just as glum as him too.
A silence settled over them. It wasn’t awkward, at least, Andy didn’t feel awkward, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either— it teetered somewhere in the middle, merging the lines.
He contemplated getting up and leaving. If he were feeling cheeky maybe he’d still ask for that cig before he left, although he wasn’t sure Dominik would be too pleased with him. If Dominik were being himself, that annoying prick that seemed to cling onto anyone and everyone, if he were yapping in Andy’s ear right now about how his team had just beaten Scotland, if Dominik had been inclined to show just an ounce of his usual personality, Andy was certain he would’ve left already.
But… Dominik was subdued. Dominik was sad. Dominik was smoking.
So Andy stayed. Shamefully, his overriding argument for it wasn’t what most people might presume— he wasn’t worried as much as he was curious. Dominik like this intrigued him, it was so peculiar to see him this down when Andy would’ve bet his house on the lad being ecstatic after tonight’s performance.
After a while Andy stopped waiting for Dominik to say something. The silence that draped itself over them clearly wasn’t going to be broken anytime soon so Andy sat back against the wall of the hotel and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
For a moment he was lost in thought. A pool of questions rising with each passing moment, the only sound between them being the breaths of smoke Dominik released and the odd sigh of despair between them.
After a painstaking five minutes Andy felt his fingers twitching as Dominik stubbed out his cigarette. If Dominik were to get up and leave now Andy wouldn’t find that sweet cathartic release.
“Can I have one?” He blurted. He noticed that Dominik had already been reaching for his pocket anyway.
He didn’t say anything, and as Andy observed Dominik light up another cigarette with it held between his lips he wondered if Dominik had even heard him at all. But then, he offered the pack, and Andy felt his shoulder slump in relief as he fished one out.
With the cig held between his fingers Andy could hear the voices nagging at him again. Temptation bordering indulgence. He’d managed just over a year, the last crack in resolve had been on a particularly crappy night at the tail-end of last season, Andy shuddered thinking about it.
He lit the cig with the lighter Dominik had given him, he didn’t mention the skull sticker gracing it— in Andy’s opinion— ruining it, and instead focused on not wasting any of the guilty pleasure he’d been craving for so long.
The first drag was— as always— heavenly. He let out a little groan, eyes fluttering closed as the hot air soothed his clouded mind, seeping down his throat and cascading into his lungs. The nicotine fizzling through his bloodstream like an old friend, greeting him with a warm hug.
Dominik chuckled, and only then had Andy realised that the lad had been staring at him this whole time, a knowing smile gracing his lips before he averted his gaze.
“A long time, huh?”
“A year.”
Dominik let out a low whistle.
Andy breathed a sigh and then took another drag, his body felt lighter already. He glanced at Dominik, tempted to throw out a question of concern, but what was the use? It was obvious the lad wasn’t okay, didn’t want Andy badgering him with questions. So he savoured the cigarette and sat in silence with him.
“We have a lot in common— no?” Dominik’s voice was gravelly, thumb flicking his cigarette so that ash cascaded to the ground.
Andy contemplated it: Dominik was young, Hungarian, with a personality that exuded confidence yet he was most probably the clingiest person Andy had ever met. He couldn’t really align the dots of Dominik’s thought processing, and Dominik sensed it.
He heaved a sigh, as if it took the effort to climb a mountain just to utter more than three words. “We both are captains, our countries look up to us.” He took a drag, “a lot of pressure.”
Andy snorted, quipping in jest, “I’m pretty sure you could do anything and they’d still love you.”
Smoke fumed from his nose. “You shouldn’t be so sure.”
Andy tilted his head, his words sinking in. He assumed Dominik was well loved by his country. After all, he’d managed to charm everyone in Liverpool within a week— and that was in his third language.
“We are both injured,” he uttered, the words sounding like they physically pained him. “We played with them.”
His ankle throbbed, a pressing reminder. “We did.” Andy snickered, “that might just be a commonality in being stupidly stubborn though.”
Dominik didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. “Maybe.” He murmured, seemingly lost in thought.
It didn’t take long for Andy’s mind to wander either, the match, the injury. Not his injury— not Dominik’s injury— but his teammate’s, the injury, the injury that had the match paused for well over ten minutes, the injury that had set football to the back of everyone’s mind. The injury that had lulled the whole stadium into an eery silence.
Andy glanced at Dominik, the haunted expression that had lingered ever since he’d left his teammate’s side was still there, plain as day.
“How’s your pal?”
Dominik bowed his head, shrinking in on himself. “Not good.”
“Shit.” He murmured, watching Dominik take a long drag, the shake to his fingers had returned.
“He is in the best place.” He shrugged, as if it made everything better, as if trying to convince himself more than Andy.
“‘Course.” Andy whispered, unwillingly reliving the memory.
He was quiet for a long while— they both were. Andy couldn’t imagine having to do what Dominik did at the age of twenty three. Having to rush a stretcher onto the field because they weren’t quick enough, having to prompt people into doing their job whilst his teammate was in such serious condition.
“And how are you?” He told himself he wouldn’t utter the words, but it felt right, felt natural.
He already knew the answer.
“Not good.” Dominik repeated.
“Thought as much.” Andy took a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment longer than usual before exhaling.
“I will be fine.” He muttered, as though irritated that he’d let his guard down.
“Mm, silly question. Sorry.” He reached over and squeezed his shoulder, hoping it would convey the words that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to utter.
After all, him and Dominik weren’t close. This might be the longest chat they’d ever had— by far the deepest. Andy didn’t know if he were teetering boundaries, couldn’t read Dominik, didn’t know if he was grateful for his company or praying on his departure.
Dominik tensed at the gesture.
Andy immediately questioned if he’d gone too far, he released his hand early.
“We smoke— I suppose we’ve got that in common.” He muttered, feeling as though he should be the one to fill the silence after making Dominik uncomfortable.
Dominik hummed, “And Trent.” Andy didn’t miss the bitterness in his tone.
Andy took another drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before pluming into the air. “Yeah— you’ll get used to that.”
Dominik glanced at him, a sadness pooling in his eyes that Andy wasn’t acquainted with. “I won’t.”
Andy held his gaze, cocking an eyebrow. “What? Can’t handle him flirting with Jude?”
The name of the Brummie had instinctively caused Dominik to set his jaw. Andy couldn’t help but grin. Jealousy was clawing at Dominik— finally, a flaw in the man.
“You do not care?” He pursed his lips, watching Andy intently.
He rolled his eyes, staring at the cigarette between his fingers with mild interest. “I’ve dealt with his shit for six years.”
Dominik was still staring at him, he could feel his eyes boring holes into his head. “Well I cannot do it.”
Andy snorted, peering at him with an amused grin. “So what are ya gonna do?”
Dominik’s jaw clenched again, he stared straight ahead at the wall, weighing up his choices. “I’ll talk to him. Maybe he will stop seeing Jude.”
Andy gave him a sarcastic chuckle, “been there and done that— I don’t recommend it.”
“It’s different.” He hissed, taking a longer drag, “he said so.”
Andy gave him a sharp look. “I thought you were smart.” Dominik’s head tilted to him as he blew out the smoke, an irritated expression thrown at him. “He says that to everyone— he plays people, he makes everyone think they’re special and then he finds a new toy.”
Andy might’ve felt guilty seeing the hurt flicker across Dominik’s face; if he hadn’t been there before, sat with that dawning realisation that Trent was using him. Although, he had to figure it out for himself, and it took far longer than a few months to come to the conclusion. He knew he was doing Dominik a solid, he would’ve wanted someone to tell him the straight facts when he was going through it.
Now, sitting there, he wished he'd put whatever Trent had started with him to bed a long time ago. What began as a fun habit, a way to pass time when hotel boredom hit, soon spiralled into something ugly, sinister. Andy was a wounded animal, Trent a fortress with an army. Andy wasn't ready- could never have been ready- for the shit that Trent had put him through. Yet he still crawled back to him. Still pretended that everything was as it should be: him and Trent- best friends. He almost scoffed at himself. Pathetic.
“He said they’re just friends.” It was quiet, uttered with little conviction, Andy could tell Dominik didn’t believe himself.
Andy scoffed, “and I suppose you believed him when he told you me and him were just friends too.” The look on his face told him he was right. “Open your eyes Dom, you're falling straight into his traps and you're not even realising.”
“I’m not—“
“You are.” Andy stubbed out his cigarette with a bit of resigned anger for Trent, who was clearly at his usual games again. “Has he text you since the tournament? Does he call you? Does he check in?”
Dominik shifted his eyes from Andy’s intense gaze. “No.”
"Does he build you up until you feel invincible?... Only to tear you to shreds. Ignore you for days. Maybe he'll come back to you- maybe he'll find someone else, maybe he'll choose Jude. Get close to him but swear on his own grave that it's nothing..." Andy scoffed, "sound familiar?"
"No." Dominik grit out, but Andy could see through it.
He gave a curt nod, “You can decide to trust me or carry on blindly following Trent, I don't care, but don't say I didn't warn you. I'll have no sympathy if you come crawling back to me all heartbroken.”
Dominik scoffed, shaking his head. “You hate me.”
“I’m trying to help you.” Andy retorted.
“Why?” Dominik hissed, “I don’t need it.”
Andy scowled, glancing at him. “Are you always so ungrateful?”
“I never asked for it.” Dominik muttered, hand flinging to his pocket.
Another cigarette was between his fingers, this time he used the lit end of the fading cigarette to light up the new one.
Jesus, the lad might go through the rest of the pack.
“That’s true.” Andy sighed, a droplet of rain hitting his arm and catching his attention. “I just… I don’t want you making the same mistakes that I did.”
Dominik stubbed out the old cigarette and glanced at Andy with the new one between his lips. “Who else is there?”
Andy scoffed, “you want me to make a list?”
Dominik’s face drained of colour, not that there was much colour there to begin with.
“If you think he stops at me or Jude then you are mistaken Pal.”
His jaw clenched for the third time, Andy found himself enjoying the raw emotions he was getting out of him. Such a contrast to the clingy shit he does with Trent and Ibou all the time.
“Why?…” Dominik trailed off, eyes falling to the ground as his anger bled into something sombre, “why does he do it?”
Andy gave him a long look, half tempted to ask him for another cigarette because this was cutting into something deep within himself as well.
Andy shrugged, “why wouldn’t he? Good sex, good attention, good fun.” He heaved a sigh, “he knows what he’s doing, walking all over people— he’s good at it too.”
“But you still let him.”
The statement caught him off guard. Something unpleasant twisted in his stomach at being seen so easily, like he was transparent, penetrating through the wall he’d been building for so many years.
“I do.”
Dominik fished his hand into his pocket and threw the packet into his lap, then the lighter.
Andy snickered, “am I that easy to read?”
“Yes.” He murmured, though a small, tired smile tugged at his lips.
Andy breathed a small ‘thanks’ before sorting himself out with another cigarette, and in the meantime Dominik had taken to staring up at the sky as it began to spit with rain.
“Why do you let him?” Dominik asked.
Andy rolled his eyes. “You tell me.”
He felt Dominik’s eyes on him, only for a moment, before they shifted back up to the black expanse. “You love him?”
Andy scoffed, almost choking on the chemicals he’d been breathing in. “No— definitely not.”
“Then what?”
Andy shook his head, shielding his cigarette from the rain. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I don’t know. It’s just… nice I guess. It feels good in the moment,”
Andy admired him as he tilted his head back against the wall, rivulets of smoke blown into the air as he pondered his words.
“I think I love him.”
Andy’s heart sank.
“I really hope you don’t— for your sake.”
Dominik made a noise of disgruntlement, dropping his head and fiddling with a thread on his joggers. “He is different.”
Andy rolled his eyes, getting tired of dealing with the destruction Trent always left in his path. “That’s what they all say.”
Dominik glanced away, hurt. Andy recognised it well, the body language spoke for itself. Maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on him, the lad had gone through a lot tonight.
“For the record—“ Andy paused before letting the words roll off of his tongue, ensuring his tone was gentle, “it probably isn’t love, not if you’re unsure about it.” Andy hesitated, “you’re probably just having a lot of fun, and after a while you associate those feelings with Trent.”
Dominik continued to fiddle with the singular thread, as if it made the conversation somewhat easier to deal with. His cigarette remain perched between his fingers, burning embers floating to the ground. “Then… what is love?”
Christ.
Andy wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here. Sitting on the floor, chain-smoking cigarettes in the rain and talking about love, but weirdly it wasn’t awful. He wasn’t hating it. In fact, Andy found himself almost enjoying it— apart from the way Dominik seemed to be able to read him like a book.
“You just sort of know.” Andy gulped, “I was… once. It was a long time ago. I can’t, I can’t really explain it, to be honest.”
Dominik was looking at him, and for once Andy didn’t mind him staring. It didn’t have the hard outer edge that he'd become accustomed to, it was warm, as though Dominik was curious or maybe even growing fond of him, though Andy highly doubted the latter.
“What happened?” He murmured.
Another twist in his stomach, the cigarette hovered inches from his lips. “Just uh,” he heaved a sigh, “someone got in the way… clearly I wasn’t what he wanted.”
Dominik nodded and shifted his gaze, as though understanding Andy didn’t want to talk much more about it. “That is not nice.”
Andy hummed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Should’ve seen it coming. I think I just turned a blind eye to most of it.”
“Some people can be good actors.” Dominik muttered, his tone ice cold, Andy knew who he was thinking about.
Andy brought the cig to his lips, contemplating his next words carefully. He didn’t want to sound patronising, or fake, because he genuinely wanted the best for Dominik— he wanted Dominik to have what he didn’t, all those years ago when he had gone through the same thing with Trent.
“Don’t let him bring ya down.” He quipped, punching Dominik’s arm gently, “you should be celebrating, you’re into the knockouts pretty much.”
Dominik let out a dry chuckle. “Now we have to rely on others…“ he shook his head, “it is not good enough.”
Andy understood, “it was a tough group... well, it was for our little nations.”
Dominik smiled, actually smiled, Andy received a wave of satisfaction from it.
“Switzerland is small too.” He retorted, Andy was relieved to see the playful glint had returned in his eyes.
Andy wriggled his eyebrows sarcastically, “know-it-all.”
Dominik grinned, holding eye contact for a moment before letting it return to the ground where large raindrops were beginning to speckle the floor.
Andy didn’t mind the rain, in fact, he quite enjoyed it. Especially when he was playing football, perfect conditions always consisted of light rain, enough to cool him off, slick the grass for a slide tackle, pummel the ball so that spray orbited from it. Over the years he’d grown to like it without the football at his feet, now it seemed to offer some inexplicable comfort.
He wondered if Dominik felt it too. The push and pull of rain on their skin and fire in their lungs.
“Why do you hate me?”
The statement had thrown him off. The calm that had settled over him bubbling into confusion.
“Why do ya think I hate you?” He glanced at Dominik, who had been staring at the floor intently. “Do you think I’d still be here if I hated you?”
He snorted, looking defeated, “yes— for the cigarettes.”
Andy sighed, taking a puff before responding. “I like you, Dom. It’s just I get jealous… and you’re a clingy guy, especially with Trent.” It pained him to admit it, he felt his cheeks heating as he settled back against the wall, shifting his gaze into the sky. Raindrops hit his face, Andy closed his eyes awaiting Dominik’s words.
“So you do like Trent?” He sounded confused.
“There’s a difference between liking and loving.” He took a drag, “I won’t let myself love him.”
A few moments passed by, the soft pattering of rain against tarmac a welcome relief from the silence.
“So you don’t hate me?” He whispered.
Andy wasn’t sure if it was meant for his ears, it seemed as though Dominik was talking more to himself— though, that didn’t stop him from responding.
“I never hated you.” Andy's eyes fluttered open, glancing at Dominik who had taken to staring at him. “Maybe at times, I wasn’t sure on you… but I think you’re alright, really.”
Dominik looked smitten, Andy wasn’t sure why he felt his cheeks heating. He turned away in hopes that Dominik wouldn’t notice and took a drag of his cigarette, savouring it as it came to a fateful end. He stubbed it out with less aggression than the previous one, feeling a little more subdued than he did before.
“I was scared of you for a while.” Dominik smirked, “but I think it was just your loud accent.”
Andy scoffed, facing him with mock offence, “my accent isn’t loud or scary.”
Dominik hummed, stubbing out his own cigarette. Andy waited for him to reach into his pocket again, but he never did. Deep down he was glad for it, wasn’t sure what he’d do if he’d witnessed Dominik go through five cigarettes within a half hour period.
“It must be you then.” He smiled, his gaze softening when it reached Andy’s eyes.
Andy cleared his throat, the intense eye contact doing something to him. “Must be.” He murmured, though he had lost track on what he was agreeing to.
Andy stammered, question on the tip of his tongue. “Do you…”
Dominik was staring at him. Big brown eyes. Andy found himself losing focus, getting lost in them.
“Do I what?” He muttered.
His lips were parted. His hair damp and beginning to curl at the ends.
Andy gulped, was Dominik leaning into him, or was his mind playing tricks on him?
No. Dominik was definitely leaning into him, those big brown eyes had flickered to his lips and Andy felt himself leaning in too.
Dominik’s breath was hot against him, their lips brushed. Andy felt something in his chest lurching. Dominik was hesitant, yet curious enough to push past the boundaries and press his lips to Andy’s.
It was slow, cautious, gentle even, and Andy would be lying if he said it wasn’t good. But it had ended far too quickly, and Dominik had pulled away with a bit of a start.
“We um… we shouldn’t do anything stupid.” The words had tumbled out of mouth clumsily, without much thought.
Dominik looked stunned, wide, panicked eyes darting around Andy’s face. He swallowed thickly, hastily nodding and turning away, throwing some distance between them. “Yeah— I know. Sorry.”
Andy gulped, his heart hammering in his chest because what the fuck. His eyes latched on Dominik like he were some sort of magnetic force. Beneath the thick layer of confusion, something warm bubbled in his stomach, his lips tingled- the faint taste of Dominik clinging to them.
Dominik bowed his head into his knees, his arms wrapping around his legs as he hugged in on himself. A pang of sympathy hit him in the chest with the force a freight train. Back to square one. “You’re a bit of a mess, ain’t ya?” Andy chuckled, shifting so that he was kneeling in front of him.
Dominik snorted, though he refused to lift his head. “Yeah.”
Andy felt the knees of his joggers getting wet, the rainwater slowly seeping into them but he didn’t care, was too side-tracked to care. He had no idea how to navigate what had just happened, no idea how to act when Dominik had just fucking kissed him, no idea how to comfort him when he was just as confused.
“So am I.” Andy placed a hand on his Dom’s knee, feeling completely out of his depth.
Dominik heaved a sigh, lifting his head with effort. “I don’t need your pity.” He snarked.
“It’s not pity.” His voice held conviction, he didn’t move from his place.
Dominik stared at a singular point in the distance, Andy assumed he was too embarrassed to make eye contact. Embarrassment didn’t suit him, he decided, Dominik oozed confidence for a reason.
“Look at me.” He muttered, and when he refused Andy had lifted his hand from his knee and cradled the side of his face, tilting it upwards.
Andy hesitated. He didn’t like going back on his own words— didn’t enjoy being seen as a hypocrite, but he couldn’t help himself from leaning in and taking Dominik’s lips again.
Dominik stilled, not expecting it, but Andy motored on, needing to feel them against him once more. He ran his thumb over Dominik’s cheek, heard the noise that he let out and then felt him kissing him back, plump lips moving in tandem with his own. Dominik was different to Trent. Softer. Gentler. Yet, Andy felt himself getting breathless quickly, felt his heart rate sky-rocketing- maybe it was the thrill of it all. The thought of someone catching them like this had sprung to his mind more than once and he shamefully found himself pushing into Dominik more.
But he couldn't let it get heated, not yet. He forced himself to pull away when he felt Dominik’s hands clutch his hips.
Dominik’s eyes fluttered open, his lips curling into a small grin as his cheeks began to taint red, their foreheads so close they might as well be touching.
“I thought we weren’t doing anything stupid.” He whispered.
Andy smirked, the hand cradling his face dropping down to cradle his neck, Dom's own pulse through the roof. “I’ve never been good at taking my own advice.” He whispered, and as Dominik contemplated his words Andy couldn’t miss the way his body gravitated towards him. The way that he was already between his legs, their shared warmth enough to evade the coolness of rain.
“I’m…” he stammered, craning his neck to look up at Andy, eyes glassy with vulnerability, “there’s a lot going on.”
Andy pulled back a little, the uncertainty in Dominik’s demeanour had returned. Though, the younger had latched onto his arm, coaxing him closer again.
“I just… can you help me— to forget… for a bit?”
Andy nodded, as if on instinct. Hell, he could do with the distraction too.
This time Andy did push their foreheads together, his fingers curling into the soft tufts of hair on the nape of Dominik’s neck, damp and cool to the touch. “Do you want to?” He whispered.
Dominik blinked, wide eyes darting between Andy’s, caught between hesitance and desire. He nodded silently, pushing himself closer.
Andy smiled, bridging the gap between them for the third time that night.
Dominik grappled onto his shoulder, letting Andy lead for a moment, the tentative caution displayed before had erupted into need, into desperation. Andy grunted, Dominik’s teeth finding his bottom lip, sharp but not enough to pierce skin, Dominik’s tongue soon soothed it, wet and heavy on his lip.
Andy pulled away first, abruptly. He found his hand and dragged him to his feet, offering a small smile as Dominik scanned the area- suddenly aware of their surroundings. Dominik’s hand trembled in his hold, cold and wet from the rain, Andy’s own was warm and dry, hidden in his pocket for most of the night.
Dominik walked half a step behind Andy, when they made it the hotel entrance Andy was relieved to see it desolate. He didn’t let go of Dominik’s hand, he didn’t think he could. Dominik latched on so tight, like it was the only thing able to anchor him.
They made it to the elevator, to Andy’s room, to Andy’s bed.
Andy wasn’t sure how a cigarette had turned into sex. Why he was having sex with the captain of the team that had just knocked him out of the Euros. Wasn’t sure why he didn’t mind it, why it wasn’t bothering him.
As Dominik kissed him, pressed himself against him, it was almost like he could sense the way Andy’s body chased the comfort, the touch.
Dominik chuckled, hot breath fanning against his face, nudging his nose against Andy’s. “I told you we have a lot in common.”
Andy grunted, hands finding the hem of Dominik's hoodie. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Dominik snorted, helping Andy throw the material off. “You do not think so?”
Andy clicked his tongue, letting his eyes trail across Dominik's bare, tatted torso, taking in the artwork as if he hadn't seen it hundreds of times before in locker rooms. “I think you’ve got bad coping techniques.”
Dominik hummed, leaning closer and gliding a hand under Andy's shirt, cold fingers spread over his abdomen with little hesitance making him squirm slightly. “So do you.” He whispered, the mischievous glint had returned to his eyes.
Andy studied him for a moment, his eyes flickering to his lips where they stayed for longer than Andy would've liked to admit, they were slick and parted, more tempting in that moment than any cigarette could be. They curled into a small smirk and Andy quickly cleared his throat, locking eyes with him, knowing he'd been caught staring. “Touché.” He whispered, cradling his neck and coaxing him in for another kiss. Their lips met, slowly colliding, deliberately ramping up in pace.
The sombre mood he'd been lugging around since the final whistle had melted away, cocooned by Dominik and the warmth of his hotel room. For now, it was enough. He wasn't fixed; his ankle still ached, the scars left by Trent still gnawed at him, and he knew the overriding sense of failure would soon overwhelm him again. But for now, it had been pushed to the back of his mind, locked away in a safe place for a later date.
For now, he was alright.