Chapter Text
Jude wasn't quite sure when he had started to like Erling as more than a friend.
If he had to name an incident when his view of the older player had changed from them being just regular teammates, it would be somewhere from the early days, in the midst of a game against Manchester United.
He had just caught the ball, already speeding off towards the goal when he had been tackled quite hard, his side hitting the fresh grass and his mind going hazy for a second. When he turned on his back, he could first hear some heated sounds above him, making him slowly open his eyes. Jude’s gaze first landed on the MU player that had run him down, the guy currently getting shoved back until he started to lose his footing as well. Only then did it finally register for Jude that it was Haaland who was currently arguing with the said opponent, their teammates struggling to hold the literal viking back.
It felt odd to him that Erling had stepped up or even gotten angry over this, after all they weren't all that close, just a couple of hello’s and how are you’s in practice at maximum. He had also never really seen the giant man get angry, the blonde being more known for his humble personality and crazy speed on the field.
Yet here he was, almost ready for a fight with the other player and Jude still found it hard to believe that somehow he had been the cause of it. Maybe he just had a shitty morning or something, Jude thought as he finally got himself into a sitting position, wincing as his side was still quite tender from the fall.
“Here,” He heard a voice say above him, and the next moment there was a big hand extended to him. Jude eyed it for a second, until taking it and being swept on feet quickly, the guy was strong.
“You okay?” Concern could be read from the blue eyes searching his face as Jude gave a slow nod, “Fine, thanks mate.”
“Good to go?"
“I'm all good, cheers,” Jude said quickly, waving dismissively as he took an experimental step out of the blonde's steady hold on him.
Erling nodded at them, “Saw how he tackled you, it was pretty bad,” he muttered and shook his head.
“Should've passed, didn't see him catching up,” Jude said as he rubbed his neck, more focused on the fact that this was probably the longest conversation he has had with the club’s golden boy.
The two eyed the other team for a few seconds in silence, a few of them passionately arguing with the ref over the red card raised high. Erling shook his head, “What a dick.”
It could have been something about that thick Norwegian accent or just the situation in itself, but Jude felt a genuine laugh escape his throat.
“You're right,” He said finally, eyeing the slightly amused smile now playing on the other man's lips as well, “A proper dickhead, score the free kick now at least, would you?”
The blonde gave him a reassuring smile, and he did.
Jude felt his own lips dug into a smile at the memory, but the distant sound of his phone ringing brought him back to reality. He pulled it out, eyes flashing over the caller’s ID as he let out a small chuckle.
“Yo,” Jude said, starting to pick up his bags, “What’s up?”
“You at the airport?” The Norwegian man’s voice said.
“Yeah, just about to board I hope,” Jude muttered, squinting at the screens, “It says I should arrive in about… 2,5 hours?”
“Want me to come pick you up?”
Jude pondered over the offer for a second, “I mean, sure.”
“Alright, text me, yeah?”
“Bet, bye bye,” Jude said quickly before ending the call, a small smile crawling on his face as he followed the mass to his entrance.
Recently, he and Erling had started to hang out more often. The team called them almost inseparable at this point. They just clicked, and Jude truly enjoyed the other player’s company. If he were to be completely honest, he felt almost smug over the fact that to their other teammates, Erling still remained a mystery.
When he finally landed, Jude made his way through the busy airport, feeling his heartbeat pick up a little when spotting the tall man leaning against the wall, scrolling his phone. The midfielder picked up the pace, just a few feet from Haaland when the other man finally noticed him, putting his phone down.
“Long time,” Haaland said with a smile, catching Jude in a tight hug. The shorter man let out a laugh.
“I was only gone for like a week, Erling.”
“Yeah but, training was kind of boring,” The man said with a shrug.
Jude raised his brows, “Hate to see it when your transfer to Man City really goes through then.”
Haaland waved dismissively, “It’s not a done deal,” He said as he reached for one of Jude’s bags to carry himself.
“Oy,” Jude said, but the taller man had already taken off, waving over his shoulder for him to join.
“You got a habit of carrying my stuff now?” Jude said as he caught up to the striker, making a move to grab his bag back. This wasn’t the first time when Haaland had just taken his training bag along with his own and marched off.
“You got like four of them,” Erling said back, snatching it away before Jude could reach it, “You look ridiculous trying to carry them all anyways.”
Jude only muttered a dry “Haha” at that, finally accepting his defeat. He wasn’t quite on a level yet to challenge a literal viking who’s had his mind clearly set on something.
The two made some small talk on the way over to Erling’s place, Jude just enjoying being in the other man’s company after spending a week without it.
“I cleaned up for you, see,” The taller man said almost proudly as he stepped in, turning towards Jude. Erling did have a bad habit of leaving all of his stuff laying around, quite not used to living alone yet. Jude sometimes had trouble believing he’s the younger one.
“Would hate to find another cow heart container just laying around,” Jude said as he took a look around, it was definitely better than usual.
“It was in the kitchen!” The tall man said defensively.
“Yeah, on the counter with the heart still in it ,” Jude deadpanned.
“It’s good, you should try it.”
“Yeah, no thank you, Hannibal Lecter,” Jude said drily, taking a seat on the couch next to the other man.
“The team is going to a club today,” Erling muttered as he eyed his phone.
Jude nodded slowly, “Are you?”
“Don’t know, just found out, you?”
The midfielder shrugged, leaning against the couch, “Couldn’t be that bad, innit?” Erling nodded back.
The taller man suddenly let out a chuckle.
“What?” Jude asked suspiciously, watching the other man just shake his head.
“No, you wouldn’t do it,” Erling just said as he waved dismissively, turning the TV on as he grabbed one of the controllers from the glass table.
Jude widened his arms, “Since when do I not get a say in what I do or do not wish to participate in?” He said, taking the other controller.
“If you say yes I’ll tell you.”
Jude nudged the other man quite forcibly, but even after going back and forth with the tall striker he didn’t budge. Finally, the midfielder let out a long sigh, “Fine just, put me out of my misery already.”
Erling stood up that very second and took off towards his kitchen, soon arriving with a bottle in his hand.
“You lose, you take a shot,” The tall man said as he set the alcohol in front of Jude on the table.
Jude raised a brow, eyes switching back and forth from the tall man and the bottle, “..So you don’t want to go out clubbing with the team but you want to get drunk playing FIFA?”
Erling shook his head with a smirk, “ You’re going to get drunk playing FIFA, I won't lose.”
Jude squinted his eyes at the other man, “I’ve beaten you too many times for you to be that confident, mate.”
The tall man sat down again with the controller, setting up the game, “I’ll show you.”
Jude shook his head, “Eliciting teenagers to drink, what a guy.”
“It’s good alcohol,” Haaland said casually, nodding at the bottle.
“Yeah, feel free to drink it all after I beat you.”
Erling smiled as he started the game, “We’ll see, we’ll see.”
After losing the third game, Jude was absolutely convinced something was rigged. He had already demanded to switch sides after his second loss, but the third one seemed almost unreal.
“How?!” He yelled, widening his arms as he stared at the screen in disbelief. Erling was laughing and leaning over the couch, “I, I told you,” He said between chuckles.
Jude muttered curses as he picked up the bottle, again. His gameplay could also be affected by the fact that he was getting quite tipsy already.
“Sheesh, how strong is this shit,” He said as he pulled a face after drinking, turning the bottle, “Fifty fucking precent? You trying to kill me or something?”
“It’s expensive, was a gift from the Man City coach,” Erling said as he took the bottle from Jude’s hands.
The midfielder’s eyes went wide, taking out his phone and googling the expensive booze.
“Oh my days,” He whispered, eyes scanning over the prices these usually go for.
“And you just,” Jude said, waving towards the most expensive thing he had probably ever held, “Just thought you should open it on some Tuesday while playing FIFA?”
Haaland shrugged, taking a long sip himself, “Better than just letting it collect dust, besides,” The tall man said with a smile on his face, “I’m having fun, isn’t that the point?”
Jude didn’t have an answer for that, so he just grabbed the bottle back, “Not after this round. This is my moment I’m telling you,” He said all fired up, ready to play.
Erling just laughed, grabbing his own controller again, “Good, I want to see it.”
Jude did in fact manage to win the next match, jumping up from the couch after he did. He felt more adrenaline in his veins over this win than most of the games he’d played in real life, alcohol really does have its effect apparently.
He walked around the room as if he’d just won the World Cup, Haaland standing up to clap for him as he laughed.
“Drink up, and that was at least two shots because of the goal already,” Jude said as he walked up to the taller man, grabbing the bottle from the table and passing it to Haaland.
The other man did indeed drink the two shots worth, finally pulling a face which made Jude chuckle.
“Here, your turn now,” Haaland said as he lifted the bottle high, waiting for the other to open his mouth.
But before Jude could protest, Erling added, “To celebrate, the fourth game wins it all, right?”
With a smug nod, Jude stood under the bottle and opened his mouth. Erling managed to get some of it in Jude’s mouth, but the midfielder could already feel it trickling down his throat and over their clothes, making him laugh. He finally swallowed the strong drink, grabbing onto the taller man's shoulders as he felt it really start to hit.
Erling stumbled a bit himself, still chuckling, “How is it? Good?”
Jude shook his head, his half lidded eyes finally catching Haaland’s. He blinked at him once, twice, before he groaned and let his bodyweight lean on Erling. He had been drunk before in his life, but not this drunk.
“Told ya I’d win,” He slurred into Erling's neck, breathing in the other man’s scent. Has he always smelled this good? It felt as if Jude couldn’t get enough of it.
Erling let out a laugh, and suddenly Jude could feel the other man’s hot breath next to his ear, “Jude,” He whispered, “I let you win that last round.”
The words took a few seconds to set it, Jude’s brows furrowing as he pulled back, “What?” He muttered, squinting his eyes.
“You heard me.”
Jude’s mouth fell open, shoving Erling slightly, “What a cunt, unbelievable,” He said in disbelief, stepping closer so he could shove the laughing man back again.
But before he could, two strong hands took his own into a grasp so he couldn't go through with it, “I’m sorry,” Erling said, leaning his head to the side, “But don’t push me anymore, I’m taking you down with me if I fall.”
“We’ll see,” Jude grunted, and shoved the tall man with his entire body suddenly. That finally managed to make the striker lose his footing, Erling letting out some loud curse in Norwegian as he fell. Jude stood over the fallen figure with a satisfied look on his face, trying to not stumble over after losing his support wall.
“See? That wasn’t so-” But he never got to finish that sentence, because Haaland, the god of speed, had suddenly grabbed one of Jude’s hands and made him fall down right on top of him.
“You fucking-” Jude groaned, but he was quickly turned around and was now laying under the tall man.
“Stop fuckin manhandling me,” He slurred, pushing against the other man’s chest. His alcohol manipulated brain suddenly registered how close he truly was to Erling, their bodies pressed against each other.
“You pushed me down first,” Erling said as an excuse, Jude’s half lidded eyes watching the other man’s hair fall over his shoulders, almost reminding him of a lion.
“You deserved it, I would have won that myself, you know,” Jude pouted.
Erling raised his brows, “I don’t believe that.”
“I’m not predictable,” Jude said, eyes glancing over the strong forearms besides his head which were currently holding Erling up.
“To me, you are.”
Jude let out a laugh, “You have no idea, Erling,” He said as he closed his eyes.
“What? I don’t think you could prove me wrong after all this time.”
Jude opened his eyes again, and they fell automatically to the other man’s lips. He could, he could prove him the opposite right here and now.
“You’re wrong,” He said, right before he leaned in, finally closing the distance between them.