Taking Care of Each Other
by miss_black91
Stronger
A single look was enough for them, enough to make them feel at home even if they were far away from it. They shared a look after the match against Spain, after the draw that could have been more, after the draw that helped them show the world that Italy was much more than everyone was expecting. Daniele started the way: he made the first step to close the distance between them, and Andrea just walked to him. When they were near enough Daniele pulled Andrea close and Andrea moved even closer, and they embraced. The hug was a bit longer than required but they needed it -- they always needed it, or at least Daniele always needed it and Andrea could never deny him anything.
(Maybe that was what Andrea wanted him to think. Maybe that even was what Andrea wanted to think. The reality was that some nights when they were kilometres away from each other Andrea only wanted him: that big guy that had stolen his heart years ago.)
Andrea didn't see his face -- he didn't need to -- but he felt Daniele's smile, and he knew those big eyes were shining, that hope inside him.
It was only the first match of the tournament, but it had been against Spain. Spain! And a draw! They couldn't quite believe it. It wasn't only about the result (one point against a team like Spain felt like a victory): they had actually played well, they had shown what their intentions for the rest of the tournament were and started in such good form. Both of them knew it. It was a good feeling to be doing something like that, something so big. They felt it. They felt that they could do anything. When they were hugging each other, they felt stronger than ever.
(Maybe not stronger than ever. Andrea still remembered how Daniele felt inside him that night in 2006, that night in which they were on top of the world, that night in which they were the campioni del mondo, that night in which they didn't sleep, not even a minute -- how could they? -- that night in which promises were implied more than ever. They felt like the kings of the world.)
They walked together to the locker rooms, side by side and without a word, their eyes meeting over and over again while they joined their other teammates. The way to the locker rooms was too slow, too long. They only wanted to be alone again, both longing for that moment in which they could be together. Daniele sat by Andrea's side -- they had had their lockers together since the first day they shared a locker room -- and Gigi met Andrea there to talk for a while about the match. Daniele looked at them through the corner of his eye and smiled. He liked to think that Andrea had someone close to him to take care of him.
Even if he always showed his soul as coldness and strength to the others, even if it was so hard for anyone to get to know the real Andrea Pirlo, Daniele knew better. Daniele knew what he needed. Daniele knew that Andrea wasn't cold at all - he just didn't like to show his emotions to people he didn't trust, not even a simple smile. He was private in that way.
Daniele liked that Andrea had a friend like Gigi at his side. They had always been friends and Daniele knew it quite well; after that year at Juventus they were even closer, if that was possible. Andrea looked at him as he spoke with Gigi and Daniele smiled widely at him. Andrea answered with a half smile, a fast one, and both of them went back to their affairs. Daniele took his towel and went to the showers, thinking.
Nobody knew what was going on between them. Andrea and Daniele had been together for almost ten years now and they had fought to keep it secret - even if they suspected about some of their mates knew about it.
(Ten years that started with a kiss when they really needed it. Ten years that started with “I can't share a room with you.” “Why?” “I can't, I just can't.” Ten years since that first moment that just had to happen, that moment that they shared and they would remember for the rest of their lives, both of them much younger. Ten years since they admitted that something else happened between them. Now life without each other seemed crazy, impossible, a joke - even the thought of it was laughable.)
It was much stronger than he was, his love for Andrea. He had tried not to love him at first. Daniele had tried to avoid it, knowing how hard his life would be if he got involved with a man. But every time he tried Andrea came to him with an unknowing smile, wanting to be with him, and Daniele couldn't help wanting to be with him too. After a while he usually forgot about his resolution and just enjoyed his time with Andrea, hugging him and making him smile: he had always been proud of that, that he could make Andrea Pirlo smile so easily.
Daniele was lost in his thoughts when Andrea walked into the shower beside him, a half smile on his face. He looked around instinctively, just to know if they were alone, even if he was almost finished.
“You okay?” Daniele asked. Andrea just nodded. He knew that Daniele was asking about his body now: if he was feeling anything strange from the match, if he felt any more pain than he should.
“You?” Andrea asked in return, and Daniele nodded as well. They always did this, caring for each other in everything, because that need was also stronger than them. Andrea was the more mature one and since the first day he had accepted the responsibility of taking care of Daniele, even if nobody had asked him to do so. What he realized years later was that Daniele also took care of him: maybe without even noticing that he was doing it, Daniele was keeping Andrea fully alive.
Faster
After dinner they ended up in their room after spending a bit of time with their teammates in Gigi's. They all had decided over dinner to meet in the captain's room after eating, as none of them would be able to sleep right away after all the emotions from the match. When they finally reached their room, Daniele embraced Andrea from behind and kissed his neck. Andrea smiled but tried to escape from Daniele's hold.
“Come on, you need to brush your teeth and put your pyjamas on!” Andrea told him, treating him like a kid. Daniele held him tighter, not letting his lover go. “We have to get into bed.”
“Oh, we can get into bed now,” he said, trying to push Andrea onto the two individual beds that they had put together. He slid a hand into Andrea's shorts. “Hello?”
“Oh, fuck -- ” Andrea gasped as Daniele stroked him through his underwear. Daniele's lips were on his neck again and he felt his cock pressing against his arse. Daniele's hand was slowly making its way and with his other arm Daniele was pulling him so close. “You're so hard already.”
“I missed you,” Daniele whispered in Andrea's ear.
“You can't miss me, you're with me all day,” Andrea protested. His voice cracked.
“It's been ages since we fucked,” Daniele explained. He rubbed himself against Andrea's low back, and he felt his lover arching slightly.
“You call a day ages?” Andrea whispered huskily. Daniele was still stroking him, and he was already hard too. The body behind him was warm, too warm, and the voice in his ear made him shiver. Nobody could make him lose control like Daniele -- not as if anyone else could have tried in years. He turned to face him, and Daniele's hands went straight to his arse, pushing them together.
Daniele always had that need to touch him, so full of energy that at first overwhelmed Andrea. He wasn't used to letting someone past his walls, and still less to having someone break those walls and walk through them as if they didn't even exist. But he couldn't have complained. He wasn't a tactile man, he didn't like having everyone touching and hugging him, but he wasn't able to complain about Daniele. He often found himself in need of those arms around him. Andrea could remember when he and Daniele met and the boy asked to the rest of their teammates about him, as Andrea Pirlo was far from him in those days. People told him Pirlo, he's a good guy, sometimes funny, amazing player, but man, getting to him is hard as hell, and if he wants he can be a closed shell. He remembered Daniele looking at him with a touch of fear when they first hugged, as if he was breaking something sacred.
He also remembered how quickly Daniele broke down those walls, and how much quicker he stopped caring about them at all. How much quicker than anyone else Daniele learnt to read him. How quickly Daniele put his name on Andrea Pirlo's self and made him his. How quickly Daniele grew accustomed to touching him in every moment he could - it didn't matter, it never mattered.
And in sex Daniele was even more energetic. In sex Daniele just needed to be one, literally. He wouldn't let Andrea go for anything in the world. Never. Not once in ten years. Every time they fucked (fast, slow, long, short, loud, quiet) he felt like melting with the man under or over him. Not as if he would have ever wanted it in any other way. Daniele set him free. Daniele made him relax. Daniele made him forget completely that he was Andrea Pirlo. With Daniele he was just Andrea.
Like in that moment. Andrea could only think about the way Daniele was kissing him. Or how he was kissing him back. About Daniele's hands pulling him closer, on about his own hands undressing the man in front of him. Both of them ended up over their improvised marital bed and Andrea felt Daniele's hands controlling him: pulling him down, under him, undressing him. He liked it when his lover forced him to lose control, when Daniele forced him to let him go, forced him to trust him blindly (even if Andrea already did trust Daniele blindly, even if Daniele made Andrea trust him faster than he has ever trusted anyone -- except, maybe, his mother).
It wasn't fast - it was slow that time, slow and calm but strong and warm, hot and sweaty.
Higher
It was the middle of the night after a long session of trying-not-to-have-so-loud sex. After short showers, they had got into their improvised bed and as Daniele couldn't sleep they had been talking for a while about everything and nothing. Eventually Andrea had convinced him to try to sleep. Half an hour later he discovered that it would be harder than he thought.
“Are you sleeping?” Daniele whispered. He was curled up against Andrea, who groaned as an answer - Daniele sometimes did that, asked if he was sleeping, knowing that in his first hours of sleep it was easy to wake Andrea up. “I don't know why but I can't sleep.”
“Really? I can't believe it,” Andrea muttered. He had lived that story before. Daniele couldn't sleep and he ended up paying for it. “Have you really tried?”
“I know, I should be tired after a match and an hour of sex -- ”
“Indeed...” Andrea interrupted him.
“But I can't sleep and when I can't sleep I just can't sleep,” Daniele declared. He sat up and stayed like that for a couple seconds. Andrea opened his eyes slowly when he felt his weight leaving him. “I'm going to go pee,” said Daniele, walking to the bathroom.
“... Kids” Andrea murmured. He wanted to sleep but now Daniele had woken him up. He was trying to relax when his lover returned from the bathroom. “Sleep.”
“We could fuck again, maybe I would be able to sleep then,” Daniele suggested, getting into bed and snuggling Andrea. Andrea threw the blankets off.
“I hope that you know where everything is and how it works. Don't wake me if it's not necessary,” Andrea told him, pointing to his own body. Daniele frowned.
“You are no fun,” Daniele muttered.
“I'm tired, you idiot,” Andrea said. They fell into silence and eventually Andrea felt Daniele's calm breath, a sign that he was finally asleep. But then he couldn't sleep. He would have killed that kid (man, whatever) if he didn't love him as much as he did.
And he knew that they hadn't fucked again because Daniele hadn't wanted to. Because if that kid wanted he could take anything from him. That smile, those bright eyes, those hands... That way of making him feel like he was flying, high and free. He doubted that any other man could make him feel like that. He stroked Daniele's hair, remembering the first time that the foolish boy took him up to the roof. Andrea had gone with him after minutes of please, please, please, pretty please, please without understanding what made a roof so amazing.
Daniele had just taken his hand and forced him to walk to the edge. “Isn't it beautiful?”, Daniele had asked. And Andrea looked. It was a dark, quiet night. They could see the lights, the sky, and mountains in the distance. They were up so high. Holding hands, higher than ever. When he looked at Daniele he saw that he was looking right back at him. Andrea didn't answer - not with words, anyway. He just kissed him slowly.
Andrea remembered too how they stayed almost an hour up there, holding hands, sitting on the roof until they realized that it was dinner time. Before leaving, Daniele had spoken up -- they had been silent most of the time. “This is forever, you know?” Daniele had said. Andrea looked at him, slightly confused. “You and I,” Daniele had said then. “I won't let you go,” he saidm as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Andrea didn't know how to respond then. But he remembered that that same night he made sure that Daniele got his answer.
In many things, Daniele was much more mature than he was. Andrea had always known it. They took care of each other. And that wouldn't change - that couldn't change.
Stronger
A single look was enough for them, enough to make them feel at home even if they were far away from it. They shared a look after the match against Spain, after the draw that could have been more, after the draw that helped them show the world that Italy was much more than everyone was expecting. Daniele started the way: he made the first step to close the distance between them, and Andrea just walked to him. When they were near enough Daniele pulled Andrea close and Andrea moved even closer, and they embraced. The hug was a bit longer than required but they needed it -- they always needed it, or at least Daniele always needed it and Andrea could never deny him anything.
(Maybe that was what Andrea wanted him to think. Maybe that even was what Andrea wanted to think. The reality was that some nights when they were kilometres away from each other Andrea only wanted him: that big guy that had stolen his heart years ago.)
Andrea didn't see his face -- he didn't need to -- but he felt Daniele's smile, and he knew those big eyes were shining, that hope inside him.
It was only the first match of the tournament, but it had been against Spain. Spain! And a draw! They couldn't quite believe it. It wasn't only about the result (one point against a team like Spain felt like a victory): they had actually played well, they had shown what their intentions for the rest of the tournament were and started in such good form. Both of them knew it. It was a good feeling to be doing something like that, something so big. They felt it. They felt that they could do anything. When they were hugging each other, they felt stronger than ever.
(Maybe not stronger than ever. Andrea still remembered how Daniele felt inside him that night in 2006, that night in which they were on top of the world, that night in which they were the campioni del mondo, that night in which they didn't sleep, not even a minute -- how could they? -- that night in which promises were implied more than ever. They felt like the kings of the world.)
They walked together to the locker rooms, side by side and without a word, their eyes meeting over and over again while they joined their other teammates. The way to the locker rooms was too slow, too long. They only wanted to be alone again, both longing for that moment in which they could be together. Daniele sat by Andrea's side -- they had had their lockers together since the first day they shared a locker room -- and Gigi met Andrea there to talk for a while about the match. Daniele looked at them through the corner of his eye and smiled. He liked to think that Andrea had someone close to him to take care of him.
Even if he always showed his soul as coldness and strength to the others, even if it was so hard for anyone to get to know the real Andrea Pirlo, Daniele knew better. Daniele knew what he needed. Daniele knew that Andrea wasn't cold at all - he just didn't like to show his emotions to people he didn't trust, not even a simple smile. He was private in that way.
Daniele liked that Andrea had a friend like Gigi at his side. They had always been friends and Daniele knew it quite well; after that year at Juventus they were even closer, if that was possible. Andrea looked at him as he spoke with Gigi and Daniele smiled widely at him. Andrea answered with a half smile, a fast one, and both of them went back to their affairs. Daniele took his towel and went to the showers, thinking.
Nobody knew what was going on between them. Andrea and Daniele had been together for almost ten years now and they had fought to keep it secret - even if they suspected about some of their mates knew about it.
(Ten years that started with a kiss when they really needed it. Ten years that started with “I can't share a room with you.” “Why?” “I can't, I just can't.” Ten years since that first moment that just had to happen, that moment that they shared and they would remember for the rest of their lives, both of them much younger. Ten years since they admitted that something else happened between them. Now life without each other seemed crazy, impossible, a joke - even the thought of it was laughable.)
It was much stronger than he was, his love for Andrea. He had tried not to love him at first. Daniele had tried to avoid it, knowing how hard his life would be if he got involved with a man. But every time he tried Andrea came to him with an unknowing smile, wanting to be with him, and Daniele couldn't help wanting to be with him too. After a while he usually forgot about his resolution and just enjoyed his time with Andrea, hugging him and making him smile: he had always been proud of that, that he could make Andrea Pirlo smile so easily.
Daniele was lost in his thoughts when Andrea walked into the shower beside him, a half smile on his face. He looked around instinctively, just to know if they were alone, even if he was almost finished.
“You okay?” Daniele asked. Andrea just nodded. He knew that Daniele was asking about his body now: if he was feeling anything strange from the match, if he felt any more pain than he should.
“You?” Andrea asked in return, and Daniele nodded as well. They always did this, caring for each other in everything, because that need was also stronger than them. Andrea was the more mature one and since the first day he had accepted the responsibility of taking care of Daniele, even if nobody had asked him to do so. What he realized years later was that Daniele also took care of him: maybe without even noticing that he was doing it, Daniele was keeping Andrea fully alive.
Faster
After dinner they ended up in their room after spending a bit of time with their teammates in Gigi's. They all had decided over dinner to meet in the captain's room after eating, as none of them would be able to sleep right away after all the emotions from the match. When they finally reached their room, Daniele embraced Andrea from behind and kissed his neck. Andrea smiled but tried to escape from Daniele's hold.
“Come on, you need to brush your teeth and put your pyjamas on!” Andrea told him, treating him like a kid. Daniele held him tighter, not letting his lover go. “We have to get into bed.”
“Oh, we can get into bed now,” he said, trying to push Andrea onto the two individual beds that they had put together. He slid a hand into Andrea's shorts. “Hello?”
“Oh, fuck -- ” Andrea gasped as Daniele stroked him through his underwear. Daniele's lips were on his neck again and he felt his cock pressing against his arse. Daniele's hand was slowly making its way and with his other arm Daniele was pulling him so close. “You're so hard already.”
“I missed you,” Daniele whispered in Andrea's ear.
“You can't miss me, you're with me all day,” Andrea protested. His voice cracked.
“It's been ages since we fucked,” Daniele explained. He rubbed himself against Andrea's low back, and he felt his lover arching slightly.
“You call a day ages?” Andrea whispered huskily. Daniele was still stroking him, and he was already hard too. The body behind him was warm, too warm, and the voice in his ear made him shiver. Nobody could make him lose control like Daniele -- not as if anyone else could have tried in years. He turned to face him, and Daniele's hands went straight to his arse, pushing them together.
Daniele always had that need to touch him, so full of energy that at first overwhelmed Andrea. He wasn't used to letting someone past his walls, and still less to having someone break those walls and walk through them as if they didn't even exist. But he couldn't have complained. He wasn't a tactile man, he didn't like having everyone touching and hugging him, but he wasn't able to complain about Daniele. He often found himself in need of those arms around him. Andrea could remember when he and Daniele met and the boy asked to the rest of their teammates about him, as Andrea Pirlo was far from him in those days. People told him Pirlo, he's a good guy, sometimes funny, amazing player, but man, getting to him is hard as hell, and if he wants he can be a closed shell. He remembered Daniele looking at him with a touch of fear when they first hugged, as if he was breaking something sacred.
He also remembered how quickly Daniele broke down those walls, and how much quicker he stopped caring about them at all. How much quicker than anyone else Daniele learnt to read him. How quickly Daniele put his name on Andrea Pirlo's self and made him his. How quickly Daniele grew accustomed to touching him in every moment he could - it didn't matter, it never mattered.
And in sex Daniele was even more energetic. In sex Daniele just needed to be one, literally. He wouldn't let Andrea go for anything in the world. Never. Not once in ten years. Every time they fucked (fast, slow, long, short, loud, quiet) he felt like melting with the man under or over him. Not as if he would have ever wanted it in any other way. Daniele set him free. Daniele made him relax. Daniele made him forget completely that he was Andrea Pirlo. With Daniele he was just Andrea.
Like in that moment. Andrea could only think about the way Daniele was kissing him. Or how he was kissing him back. About Daniele's hands pulling him closer, on about his own hands undressing the man in front of him. Both of them ended up over their improvised marital bed and Andrea felt Daniele's hands controlling him: pulling him down, under him, undressing him. He liked it when his lover forced him to lose control, when Daniele forced him to let him go, forced him to trust him blindly (even if Andrea already did trust Daniele blindly, even if Daniele made Andrea trust him faster than he has ever trusted anyone -- except, maybe, his mother).
It wasn't fast - it was slow that time, slow and calm but strong and warm, hot and sweaty.
Higher
It was the middle of the night after a long session of trying-not-to-have-so-loud sex. After short showers, they had got into their improvised bed and as Daniele couldn't sleep they had been talking for a while about everything and nothing. Eventually Andrea had convinced him to try to sleep. Half an hour later he discovered that it would be harder than he thought.
“Are you sleeping?” Daniele whispered. He was curled up against Andrea, who groaned as an answer - Daniele sometimes did that, asked if he was sleeping, knowing that in his first hours of sleep it was easy to wake Andrea up. “I don't know why but I can't sleep.”
“Really? I can't believe it,” Andrea muttered. He had lived that story before. Daniele couldn't sleep and he ended up paying for it. “Have you really tried?”
“I know, I should be tired after a match and an hour of sex -- ”
“Indeed...” Andrea interrupted him.
“But I can't sleep and when I can't sleep I just can't sleep,” Daniele declared. He sat up and stayed like that for a couple seconds. Andrea opened his eyes slowly when he felt his weight leaving him. “I'm going to go pee,” said Daniele, walking to the bathroom.
“... Kids” Andrea murmured. He wanted to sleep but now Daniele had woken him up. He was trying to relax when his lover returned from the bathroom. “Sleep.”
“We could fuck again, maybe I would be able to sleep then,” Daniele suggested, getting into bed and snuggling Andrea. Andrea threw the blankets off.
“I hope that you know where everything is and how it works. Don't wake me if it's not necessary,” Andrea told him, pointing to his own body. Daniele frowned.
“You are no fun,” Daniele muttered.
“I'm tired, you idiot,” Andrea said. They fell into silence and eventually Andrea felt Daniele's calm breath, a sign that he was finally asleep. But then he couldn't sleep. He would have killed that kid (man, whatever) if he didn't love him as much as he did.
And he knew that they hadn't fucked again because Daniele hadn't wanted to. Because if that kid wanted he could take anything from him. That smile, those bright eyes, those hands... That way of making him feel like he was flying, high and free. He doubted that any other man could make him feel like that. He stroked Daniele's hair, remembering the first time that the foolish boy took him up to the roof. Andrea had gone with him after minutes of please, please, please, pretty please, please without understanding what made a roof so amazing.
Daniele had just taken his hand and forced him to walk to the edge. “Isn't it beautiful?”, Daniele had asked. And Andrea looked. It was a dark, quiet night. They could see the lights, the sky, and mountains in the distance. They were up so high. Holding hands, higher than ever. When he looked at Daniele he saw that he was looking right back at him. Andrea didn't answer - not with words, anyway. He just kissed him slowly.
Andrea remembered too how they stayed almost an hour up there, holding hands, sitting on the roof until they realized that it was dinner time. Before leaving, Daniele had spoken up -- they had been silent most of the time. “This is forever, you know?” Daniele had said. Andrea looked at him, slightly confused. “You and I,” Daniele had said then. “I won't let you go,” he saidm as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Andrea didn't know how to respond then. But he remembered that that same night he made sure that Daniele got his answer.
In many things, Daniele was much more mature than he was. Andrea had always known it. They took care of each other. And that wouldn't change - that couldn't change.