Random Fic: The Long Day
Title: The Long Day
Characters: Alberto Contador, Jesus Hernandez, Michael Mørkøv, Jakob Fuglsang, Daniel Navarro (as Silent Bob ;p)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.
Warnings: some swearing
Summary: Anyone want to know what Alberto's first day back to racing after the bloody long winter he's been having was like?
A/N: Beware of tired and sleepy Alberto. Is cute and will make you want to take him home.After you've wrestled him from my dead hands, that is. I have included useful information about track cycling and the awesome thing that the Copenhagen 6 Days were from our favorite Danish correspondent pippilottah. The Alex Rasmussen belt referece hints to an idea that belongs to libs_rock and OMG, Dani Navarro is right there throughout the entire fic and yet he does not utter a single word. I only realized it after proofreading the whole thing. o_O
MAIN VERSE MASTERPOST with links to all fics in chronological order.
Oh, here be one old but funny picture, just because:
Date: 16.02.2010
Location: Portugal.
Alberto had just nodded off and was dreaming about being wrapped in a fluffy comforter when his phone rang. Actually, it vibrated somewhere in his coat pocket and Alberto ignored it first. Whoever the hell it was could wait until morning. Not even his mom would call at such ungodly hours, even if she was worried and would probably stay up all night, waiting for news that her sons had arrived safely.
The phone kept buzzing, though, and Alberto moaned in protest. He cracked one eye open and tried to figure out if Dani and Fran were asleep. They were not. And the phone was beginning to tickle him, so Alberto figured he might as well pick up. He fished the device from his pocket and squinted at the screen. A huge grin blossomed on the Spaniard’s face when he saw who insisted so much on talking to him.
“Hola,” he whispered.
“’Morning,” Jakob replied gruffly.
For a few moments neither said anything else. Alberto kept grinning and mouthed ‘Jakob’ when his companions eyed him curiously.
“Can you talk?” Jakob broke the silence after a minute or two.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m in a car, with my brother and Dani, in the middle of nowhere, in Portugal. So… no.”
“Eh? What happened?”
“Missed my flight from Lisbon. We had to get a car. I don’t see how we’re gonna get any sleep tonight and then we have to race tomorrow, but whatever,” Alberto chuckled.
“Yeah, whatever. Don’t you sound happy about it,” Jakob replied, only half as ironic as he’d wanted to be and smiling a little, in spite of himself.
“I am happy. Very much so. Is that what’s keeping you up so late?” Alberto inquired sweetly.
“Huh? No.”
“Is something else keeping you up, then?” Alberto’s voice dropped to an insinuating whisper.
At the other end of the line, Jakob sighed loudly.
“Not exactly. Not really. No,” he muttered.
“It’s…what time is it there anyway? Three, four AM? That time of night…,” Alberto hinted again, the look on his face making Dani lift the collar of his coat and pretend he couldn’t hear anything.
“I don’t know the damn time!”
“Shhh, calm down. You sound awfully high strung,” Alberto cooed mockingly.
“Fuck you!”
“Sorry, no can do,” the Spaniard snickered.
“Hey, quit it with that. It’s not why I called.”
“Not exactly?”
“Damn you! Alberto, just listen, OK?” Jakob sounded more than a bit annoyed, which only served to amuse Alberto further.
“Alright, what’s the matter? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It’s just… well, I… I wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back on the road, where you belong,” Jakob said quickly.
“Back on the road?” Alberto’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Back on the bike. You know what I mean. The not being suspended bit.”
“You’re happy about that?”
“Er… Kinda. Maybe. OK, OK, I still hate your guts but, you should be racing, that’s where you belong.”
“Jakob… really?” Alberto blinked, his previous dirty grin melting into a softer, surprised smile.
“Yeah… don’t get me wrong. You should be racing only so we can kick your ass on the road. I still think you’re an evil sonofabitch, but it makes me fell less shitty to stop kicking you when you’re down.”
“Aha. That makes more sense. You scared me there, for a moment,” the Spaniard smiled thinly.
“Don’t be a dick, I’m trying to be nice here,” Jakob muttered.
“Thanks, I guess. It’s the thought that counts…,” Alberto trailed off, quite unsettled by the awkward conversation. But then, it wasn’t the first extraordinary thing that had happened to him throughout the day.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t mention this to anyone. I mean it.”
“Er… fine, I won’t. Jakob?”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me this is all you called me for. To sort of, kind of congratulate me…”
“Actually…”
“For real?!”
“Apparently.”
“So… you don’t need me to show you any kind of gratitude right now?”
Jakob huffed loudly in response.
“Thought you said you couldn’t.”
“I can’t. I’m just teasing you.”
“Bastard.”
“I’ll make it up to you. Sometime soon. OK?”
“No! There’s nothing to make up for. Listen…”
“Jakob,” Alberto said the name in a much more serious tone, giving the agitated Dane pause.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“I mean it. There have been a lot of calls today, from a lot of people, but you…”
“Like I said, don’t mention it. And don’t get used to it either,” Jakob replied gruffly, wanting to hang up and end the weird conversation.
“Alrigth. Now, there must be some well-meaning pussy cat out there who can take care of your problem. Just wake one up and…”
“There is no problem!” Jakob hissed and Alberto heard him kicking something.
“So you really, really just called me to say congratulations? Aww, Jakob, that’s adorable,” Alberto snickered.
“Screw you,” the Dane muttered, sighing dejectedly. But, if he’d have seen himself in a mirror, he would have noticed how a smile was tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.
“Sometime soon. Just wait until we race together,” Alberto promised… or threatened.
“Yeah, in your dreams.”
“No, in your dreams,” Alberto said, making Jakob curse colorfully. “Speaking of which, don’t you have to race tomorrow?”
“I do.”
“Well, you’d better have your beauty sleep. Although you’ll want to be careful out there, you never know when a sheik might want to add you to his harem.”
“Ha! Why, you’re gonna miss me?”
Alberto didn’t say anything, letting the silence give Jakob whatever answer he wanted.
“Alberto?”
“Mmm?”
“If you win that race you’re driving to right now, I’m going to vomit.”
Alberto laughed, prompting the cab driver to take his eyes off the road and look back for a moment.
“Have one of your lackeys carry a bucket around, then.”
“Damn you. It’s going to be so weird, seeing you in our kit.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to enjoy it,” Alberto replied smugly. “Why are we stopping?”
“What?”
“Not you, I was asking the guys. Ah, apparently we are out of gas. And we should get something to eat, too.”
“Eat? Would you take your chances after…”
“Nope, I think I’ll just stay in the car and… we can keep talking?” Alberto’s tone suggested a lot more than talking.
“No, I told you I’m not in the mood for that. Can we just hang up now?”
Alberto gave the Dane another long moment of suspenseful silence.
“I’m going to play nice and just whish you good night… not sweet dreams.”
“How considerate of you,” Jakob rolled his eyes. “Well, good luck tomorrow. Maybe they won’t throw steaks at you.”
The Spaniard laughed again, although it was kind of a low blow and not quite as funny as Jakob thought it was.
“Good luck to you too. See if you can get your pretty sprinter to finish second again.”
Jakob snorted and muttered something unflattering, then hung up. He left Alberto looking at the screen with a big, goofy sort of smile because Alberto certainly hadn’t expected support from the Dane and yet there it was, underneath all the snapping and the cursing. It made Alberto smile from ear to ear, in spite of the exhaustion and how he began to shiver when he got out of the car. There was another victory against all odds and hopefully it would not be the last, because Alberto really loved to win.
***
“Are you alright?” Jesus rode a little bit closer to Alberto and asked him in Spanish.
They were wet and exhausted and pedaling uphill. Altogether a far cry from alright, but Alberto gave his friend a tired grin.
“Just… say something when you get tired of…,” Jesus looked at Michael Mørkøv riding on Alberto’s other side. He smiled and nodded at the Dane, wondering if the too much information thing the guy had going on was some Saxo bonding ritual that they had thus far missed out on. For the last… two hours, maybe more, Michael had done little else but talk to Alberto about track racing and the amazing Six Days in Copenhagen that he and Alex Rasmussen had just won. Track itself was not the problem, except for how Michael derailed from it quite often and talked about his boyfriend Alex like he was the eighth world wonder.
“Sure,” Alberto grinned some more and then returned the shreds of attention he could still spare to the enthusiastic Dane. “I’m sorry, Michael. What were you saying?”
“Er… It’s alright. Maybe I should just give you a moment. You’ve probably had enough of…”
“No, no, don’t stop. Please, I want to hear about all that. I want to hear about everything. I missed being right in the middle of things.”
“You sure? Because I know I talk a lot about Alex and…”
“That’s OK. Too bad he isn’t here. Although… he would have been quite the distraction,” the Spaniard gave his companion a lopsided grin.
“Aaah, yes,” Michael sighed wistfully. “Yes, indeed. I know what you’re thinking. You’re all thinking it.”
“What?”
“About Alex and his amazing…”
“Haha, yes,” Alberto cut his team-mate off. Waaay too much information, but then, it was just what the doctor ordered and guaranteed to keep him awake until the end of the damned stage. “Sorry, but we’re not blind.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. As long as you stick to enjoying the view and know that Alex is mine,” Michael nodded seriously.
“Er… yeah. Sure. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna… right,” the Spaniard cleared his throat and looked around for one of his boys to hopefully rescue him. Dani cocked his head and gave him a questioning look, but then, Alberto shrugged one shoulder and decided to take his chances.
“That didn’t come out right. Sorry, I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of creepy, jealous type, I’m not,” Michael was kicking himself because wow, when had he gotten into such personal stuff with Alberto?
“There’s nothing creepy about it,” Alberto offered the guy what he hoped would pass for a reassuring smile.
“Thanks. For understanding. And for listening too. I know that not all the guys would want to hear about boyfriends and such stuff, but I figured you wouldn’t mind so much.”
“I don’t mind at all. You can say anything to me. You’ll see, it’ll be easier once we know each other better,” Alberto’s voice caught and he tried to keep his mouth closed against a big yawn.
“I’m sure it will be. Meanwhile… can I do anything else? Should we move forward in the pack just a bit? Do you need anything?”
“Nah, it’s fine. Just keep your eyes on the people in front and tell me more about… what did you say your brother had to do when he was in charge of entertaining the public?”
Michael grinned and proceeded to describe Jesper’s antics. Then, he talked about his brothers and their performances, telling Alberto that he had to join them in Copenhagen sometime and see for himself, because there was no way to just describe the amazing atmosphere and the fast racing. Alberto nodded and promised he’d make the trip, thinking that he would most definitely enjoy track racing and the legs on those guys.
As if they were sharing a single brain, Michael told Alberto about the little competitions that they’d had outside racing, like who had the best legs and who was hottest. Of course Alex was hottest, who else, but Michael could not help lamenting how Alex did not get proper recognition for his legs. What were those people in the crowd thinking? Sure, that evil, dratted Brian Holm had been nagging Alex to lose weight and some of the amazingness had worn off around the edges, but Alex still had the best of everything. Right?
“I guess… you’d know best,” Alberto replied, biting the inside of his lip and trying not to laugh at how surprisingly cute Michael was, so obviously smitten although he and Alex had been together since… forever. Or at least that was what Alberto remembered Andy telling him at some point.
“True. But I’m a little biased. Anyway, what am I saying? You probably think that Andy has the best of everything.”
“Not really,” Alberto said before he could catch himself.
“Eh?”
“I mean… I can still appreciate other people and give credit where it’s due, right?” Alberto tried to cover the slip, hoping that Michael would not ask anything else about what was not his business.
Fortunately, Michael seemed to understand that the information sharing didn’t go both ways, at lest not that day. He nodded and dropped a bit behind when he noticed Matti getting closer. Alberto noticed too and he smiled at the other Dane, but his insides churned and he thanked god he was wearing dark sunglasses. That guy was Jakob’s boyfriend and Alberto had nearly fallen off his bike when he’d run into Matti at the startline, because he’d forgotten Matti was also racing in Portugal. It had been possibly even worse when Matti had shaken his hand and welcomed him back in the peloton, making Alberto feel a million times guiltier than he’d ever been before say… his own boyfriend?
Jesus recognized the distraught, ‘save me!’ look on Alberto’s face and he engaged him in random conversation, maneuvering both of them through the pack, until they were far enough from ‘danger’. Before long, Michael caught up and relayed the good news about Matti’s recovery. He said some more nice things about his former team-mate and Alberto grit his teeth, thinking: ‘if you don’t stop, I’m going to cry’.
They were getting closer to the finish line, following the same scenario as ever: a faster tempo to catch the day’s runaways and set up a mass sprint. Since it was not Saxo Bank priority to do any of those things, Alberto spent most of the day’s kilometers safely tucked between his team mates. The only time he’d almost fallen off his bike was not because Alberto could barely keep his eyes open. No, it had happened because Michael was happily ranting about the celebration they’d had in Copenhagen and how there had been a champagne shower back at the hotel. He and Alex had been all wet and more than a little drunk and the next thing Michael knew he was on his knees, tugging on this horrific belt Alex was wearing with his teeth. Ooops!
Alberto swerved to the right, bumping into Jesus. Thankfully, the guy was quick enough to steady himself and then to prop Alberto as well. Of course Alberto wanted every little detail of that drunken encounter, but how was he to get more out of his team mate in the middle of the race and with Michael blushing profusely? That little indiscretion seemed to call the end of Michael’s talkativeness and he spent the remaining kilometers looking ahead and saying only serious, race related stuff. It was alright, though, Alberto had enough confidence in his Spanish Inquisition skills to know that he would make Michael tell him everything sooner or later. Preferably later, when Alberto’s brain felt less like a sieve and when he could see a bit straighter.
***
Jesus walked toward one of the beds and picked up a pillow. He returned to the other room of the not so shabby hotel apartment he was sharing with Alberto and sat back at one end of the couch. He put the pillow on his knees and motioned Alberto to lie down. Alberto yawned, stretched and put his head on the pillow, making himself comfortable. Dani and Michael were also there, lounging in the huge armchairs and just talking. It was still early to go to bed, even if Dani was all but dozing off and Alberto had nearly fallen asleep in mid-sentence.
“I don’t know why they’re not in bed yet,” Jesus commented, patting Alberto’s shoulder when the guy growled in protest. “Yeah, yeah, I mean you.”
Michael tried to not gape at what he was seeing, when Alberto yawed again, snuggled a bit closer to Jesus and sighed happily when the guy squeezed his shoulder in a gentle massage. Were those two… ?!
“Just keep talking. And don’t stop that,” Alberto mumbled, shrugging his shoulder and encouraging Jesus to keep doing what he was doing.
“Big baby… You’ll have to excuse him this time, Michael. It’s not at all like Alberto,” Jesus petted his friend, quieting another growling protest. “He’s not this cranky, or clingy or whatever, but it’s been a long day and…”
“I understand,” the Dane nodded, even though he really didn’t. Well, the extremely tired and at the end of his rope bit he could understand. After all he’d been through, Alberto had every right to not be himself, but still…
“I just missed racing… and being with you guys,” Alberto said, his words partially muffled in the pillow. “Thought I might not get to do this for a while,” he whispered the admission, making Jesus smile at him with a great deal of sympathy.
“You’re here now,” Jesus said, finding it strange to address Alberto in English, but they had to do it for Michael’s benefit.
“If I fall asleep… I might wake up… not here,” Alberto sighed, making the two men still listening to him cringe. Dani was snoring softly, sprawled in the armchair and missing the emotional exchange.
“Shh, you’re here. It’s over. You can relax now,” Jesus told his friend, trying to soothe him with both words and touch as he ran his fingers through Alberto’s hair and over his shoulder.
“Mmmhmm,” Alberto seemed to disagree, but he could no longer quite articulate it. He hugged the pillow and sighed again.
Jesus looked at Michael and shook his head, smiling knowingly.
“He’s going to fall asleep and then make a fuss when I try to wake him and take him to bed.”
The Dane chuckled and Alberto huffed, letting them know he could still hear them. But it took less than a minute for him to fall asleep, while Jesus kept moving his hand over his back in soothing circles.
“That takes care of that,” Jesus smiled fondly. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw Alberto this exhausted. It makes me so mad to think about what he’s been through and to see him like this.”
Michael nodded, unsure what to say. Granted, the Alberto Contador he was looking at had nothing in common with the invincible Conquistador that Andy had bragged about so often… oh, shit, Andy!
Jesus noticed the Dane’s eyes narrowing a bit and focusing on the way he’d rested his arm on Alberto.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” the Spaniard cocked his head and gave the other man a questioning look. “Say what you want to say.”
“Er…”
“Come on, ask me.”
Their voices had gradually dropped to whispers and it was almost inaudible when Michael said:
“Alberto… with you… are you two?”
“Are we what?”
“You know… ”
“No, I don’t know,” Jesus didn’t want to make things any easier.
“I mean… shit, I know it’s none of my business, but Alberto’s with Andy and… there he is… it looks like…,” Michael trailed off, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t see Andy Schleck anywhere. Do you?” Jesus replied a bit more sharply than he’d meant to.
“No, but…”
“Sorry. That didn’t come out right. And the answer is no. I’m not anything except friends with Alberto. Never have been and never will be. I have a fiancée back home.”
“Oh,” Michael barely refrained from smacking his forehead in a loud facepalm.
“I know what this looks like,” Jesus added, putting his arm around Alberto and smiling when Alberto made a small sound of approval. “But it’s not what it looks like. I’m only trying to take care of Alberto. He… Ah, I shouldn’t really be talking about it, but you can’t even imagine the kind of rough moments Alberto has been through these last couple of months. I’ve seen him so discouraged and so upset sometimes… Fucking Andy Schleck wasn’t there to help Alberto when he needed it the most! But I was and if Alberto needed a hug and a shoulder to cry on, it was the least I could do for him. OK?”
Michael gave his team mate a sympathetic and apologetic look.
“I’m straight, but I’m not going to deny my friend the support and the affection he needs. He would and he has done the same for me,” Jesus added.
“That’s… that’s really nice. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. And I certainly didn’t mean to accuse you of anything,” Michael whispered.
“It’s alright. You really had no way of knowing. We’re all new to each other and this situation is unusual to say the least. But it’s not going to be strange and uncomfortable all the time,” Jesus smiled encouragingly. “Maybe tomorrow… tomorrow is going to be strange because Alberto will feel soooo embarrassed about all this. He’s going to apologize, mark my words, even if he’s got nothing to feel bad about and he should cut himself some slack.”
“Yeah… what do I do if he does apologize?”
“Er… nothing? Just tell him it’s OK, you’re even, because you’ve been telling him personal stuff all day, right?”
“Oh god, you heard some of that too?” Michael groaned and covered his face with both hands.
“Only a little. Enough to make me smile and recognize a man in love. Nothing you should feel ashamed of. Seriously.”
Michael felt like getting up and shaking that man’s hand, but doing so might have resulted in waking Alberto up, so the Dane settled for giving Jesus a grateful smile.
“You’re going to get along with Alberto really well, you’ll see. He’s a really good man and only people who don’t know him can say stupid things about him.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when the team first got together.”
“Even then, you didn’t see the real Alberto because he was always struggling to hide the stress and the unease. He’s really just a shadow of himself right now, but it gets better from here and, before long, you’re going to see the Alberto that all of us are gonna want to sell our souls for, on the road.”
Michael needed a moment to absorb the passionate speech. He sighed and nodded slowly, looking at the sleeping Spaniard and thinking that Jesus was wrong. Even if he was exhausted both physically and emotionally, Alberto remained inspiring.
“Can you bring me a blanket, or something?” Jesus asked Michael.
“Yeah. Do I take one for him too?” Michael sat up and pointed to the happily snoozing Dani.
“Nope, you’re taking him back to your room.”
“OK,” the Dane chuckled. He brought one of the duvets from the bedroom and gently spread it over Alberto. “I should get going,” he whispered.
“See if you can wake Dani and take him to bed. He’ll be all stiff and sore if he stays like that any longer.”
That proved to be an easier task than Michael had expected. Dani raised only a token of protest, but he did lean heavily on his Danish team mate, as Michael towed him out of the room. They bid Jesus a good night and left before he could ask one of them for the TV remote-control.
“Here I am, stuck with you,” Jesus smiled, brushing his fingers over Alberto’s cheek. “It’s a 24 hour job, working for you,” he muttered good-naturedly. “Oh, well…,” Jesus leaned back. He closed his eyes and sighed: “It’s good to have you back”.
Characters: Alberto Contador, Jesus Hernandez, Michael Mørkøv, Jakob Fuglsang, Daniel Navarro (as Silent Bob ;p)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.
Warnings: some swearing
Summary: Anyone want to know what Alberto's first day back to racing after the bloody long winter he's been having was like?
A/N: Beware of tired and sleepy Alberto. Is cute and will make you want to take him home.After you've wrestled him from my dead hands, that is. I have included useful information about track cycling and the awesome thing that the Copenhagen 6 Days were from our favorite Danish correspondent pippilottah. The Alex Rasmussen belt referece hints to an idea that belongs to libs_rock and OMG, Dani Navarro is right there throughout the entire fic and yet he does not utter a single word. I only realized it after proofreading the whole thing. o_O
MAIN VERSE MASTERPOST with links to all fics in chronological order.
Oh, here be one old but funny picture, just because:
Date: 16.02.2010
Location: Portugal.
Alberto had just nodded off and was dreaming about being wrapped in a fluffy comforter when his phone rang. Actually, it vibrated somewhere in his coat pocket and Alberto ignored it first. Whoever the hell it was could wait until morning. Not even his mom would call at such ungodly hours, even if she was worried and would probably stay up all night, waiting for news that her sons had arrived safely.
The phone kept buzzing, though, and Alberto moaned in protest. He cracked one eye open and tried to figure out if Dani and Fran were asleep. They were not. And the phone was beginning to tickle him, so Alberto figured he might as well pick up. He fished the device from his pocket and squinted at the screen. A huge grin blossomed on the Spaniard’s face when he saw who insisted so much on talking to him.
“Hola,” he whispered.
“’Morning,” Jakob replied gruffly.
For a few moments neither said anything else. Alberto kept grinning and mouthed ‘Jakob’ when his companions eyed him curiously.
“Can you talk?” Jakob broke the silence after a minute or two.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m in a car, with my brother and Dani, in the middle of nowhere, in Portugal. So… no.”
“Eh? What happened?”
“Missed my flight from Lisbon. We had to get a car. I don’t see how we’re gonna get any sleep tonight and then we have to race tomorrow, but whatever,” Alberto chuckled.
“Yeah, whatever. Don’t you sound happy about it,” Jakob replied, only half as ironic as he’d wanted to be and smiling a little, in spite of himself.
“I am happy. Very much so. Is that what’s keeping you up so late?” Alberto inquired sweetly.
“Huh? No.”
“Is something else keeping you up, then?” Alberto’s voice dropped to an insinuating whisper.
At the other end of the line, Jakob sighed loudly.
“Not exactly. Not really. No,” he muttered.
“It’s…what time is it there anyway? Three, four AM? That time of night…,” Alberto hinted again, the look on his face making Dani lift the collar of his coat and pretend he couldn’t hear anything.
“I don’t know the damn time!”
“Shhh, calm down. You sound awfully high strung,” Alberto cooed mockingly.
“Fuck you!”
“Sorry, no can do,” the Spaniard snickered.
“Hey, quit it with that. It’s not why I called.”
“Not exactly?”
“Damn you! Alberto, just listen, OK?” Jakob sounded more than a bit annoyed, which only served to amuse Alberto further.
“Alright, what’s the matter? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It’s just… well, I… I wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back on the road, where you belong,” Jakob said quickly.
“Back on the road?” Alberto’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Back on the bike. You know what I mean. The not being suspended bit.”
“You’re happy about that?”
“Er… Kinda. Maybe. OK, OK, I still hate your guts but, you should be racing, that’s where you belong.”
“Jakob… really?” Alberto blinked, his previous dirty grin melting into a softer, surprised smile.
“Yeah… don’t get me wrong. You should be racing only so we can kick your ass on the road. I still think you’re an evil sonofabitch, but it makes me fell less shitty to stop kicking you when you’re down.”
“Aha. That makes more sense. You scared me there, for a moment,” the Spaniard smiled thinly.
“Don’t be a dick, I’m trying to be nice here,” Jakob muttered.
“Thanks, I guess. It’s the thought that counts…,” Alberto trailed off, quite unsettled by the awkward conversation. But then, it wasn’t the first extraordinary thing that had happened to him throughout the day.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t mention this to anyone. I mean it.”
“Er… fine, I won’t. Jakob?”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me this is all you called me for. To sort of, kind of congratulate me…”
“Actually…”
“For real?!”
“Apparently.”
“So… you don’t need me to show you any kind of gratitude right now?”
Jakob huffed loudly in response.
“Thought you said you couldn’t.”
“I can’t. I’m just teasing you.”
“Bastard.”
“I’ll make it up to you. Sometime soon. OK?”
“No! There’s nothing to make up for. Listen…”
“Jakob,” Alberto said the name in a much more serious tone, giving the agitated Dane pause.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“I mean it. There have been a lot of calls today, from a lot of people, but you…”
“Like I said, don’t mention it. And don’t get used to it either,” Jakob replied gruffly, wanting to hang up and end the weird conversation.
“Alrigth. Now, there must be some well-meaning pussy cat out there who can take care of your problem. Just wake one up and…”
“There is no problem!” Jakob hissed and Alberto heard him kicking something.
“So you really, really just called me to say congratulations? Aww, Jakob, that’s adorable,” Alberto snickered.
“Screw you,” the Dane muttered, sighing dejectedly. But, if he’d have seen himself in a mirror, he would have noticed how a smile was tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.
“Sometime soon. Just wait until we race together,” Alberto promised… or threatened.
“Yeah, in your dreams.”
“No, in your dreams,” Alberto said, making Jakob curse colorfully. “Speaking of which, don’t you have to race tomorrow?”
“I do.”
“Well, you’d better have your beauty sleep. Although you’ll want to be careful out there, you never know when a sheik might want to add you to his harem.”
“Ha! Why, you’re gonna miss me?”
Alberto didn’t say anything, letting the silence give Jakob whatever answer he wanted.
“Alberto?”
“Mmm?”
“If you win that race you’re driving to right now, I’m going to vomit.”
Alberto laughed, prompting the cab driver to take his eyes off the road and look back for a moment.
“Have one of your lackeys carry a bucket around, then.”
“Damn you. It’s going to be so weird, seeing you in our kit.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to enjoy it,” Alberto replied smugly. “Why are we stopping?”
“What?”
“Not you, I was asking the guys. Ah, apparently we are out of gas. And we should get something to eat, too.”
“Eat? Would you take your chances after…”
“Nope, I think I’ll just stay in the car and… we can keep talking?” Alberto’s tone suggested a lot more than talking.
“No, I told you I’m not in the mood for that. Can we just hang up now?”
Alberto gave the Dane another long moment of suspenseful silence.
“I’m going to play nice and just whish you good night… not sweet dreams.”
“How considerate of you,” Jakob rolled his eyes. “Well, good luck tomorrow. Maybe they won’t throw steaks at you.”
The Spaniard laughed again, although it was kind of a low blow and not quite as funny as Jakob thought it was.
“Good luck to you too. See if you can get your pretty sprinter to finish second again.”
Jakob snorted and muttered something unflattering, then hung up. He left Alberto looking at the screen with a big, goofy sort of smile because Alberto certainly hadn’t expected support from the Dane and yet there it was, underneath all the snapping and the cursing. It made Alberto smile from ear to ear, in spite of the exhaustion and how he began to shiver when he got out of the car. There was another victory against all odds and hopefully it would not be the last, because Alberto really loved to win.
***
“Are you alright?” Jesus rode a little bit closer to Alberto and asked him in Spanish.
They were wet and exhausted and pedaling uphill. Altogether a far cry from alright, but Alberto gave his friend a tired grin.
“Just… say something when you get tired of…,” Jesus looked at Michael Mørkøv riding on Alberto’s other side. He smiled and nodded at the Dane, wondering if the too much information thing the guy had going on was some Saxo bonding ritual that they had thus far missed out on. For the last… two hours, maybe more, Michael had done little else but talk to Alberto about track racing and the amazing Six Days in Copenhagen that he and Alex Rasmussen had just won. Track itself was not the problem, except for how Michael derailed from it quite often and talked about his boyfriend Alex like he was the eighth world wonder.
“Sure,” Alberto grinned some more and then returned the shreds of attention he could still spare to the enthusiastic Dane. “I’m sorry, Michael. What were you saying?”
“Er… It’s alright. Maybe I should just give you a moment. You’ve probably had enough of…”
“No, no, don’t stop. Please, I want to hear about all that. I want to hear about everything. I missed being right in the middle of things.”
“You sure? Because I know I talk a lot about Alex and…”
“That’s OK. Too bad he isn’t here. Although… he would have been quite the distraction,” the Spaniard gave his companion a lopsided grin.
“Aaah, yes,” Michael sighed wistfully. “Yes, indeed. I know what you’re thinking. You’re all thinking it.”
“What?”
“About Alex and his amazing…”
“Haha, yes,” Alberto cut his team-mate off. Waaay too much information, but then, it was just what the doctor ordered and guaranteed to keep him awake until the end of the damned stage. “Sorry, but we’re not blind.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. As long as you stick to enjoying the view and know that Alex is mine,” Michael nodded seriously.
“Er… yeah. Sure. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna… right,” the Spaniard cleared his throat and looked around for one of his boys to hopefully rescue him. Dani cocked his head and gave him a questioning look, but then, Alberto shrugged one shoulder and decided to take his chances.
“That didn’t come out right. Sorry, I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of creepy, jealous type, I’m not,” Michael was kicking himself because wow, when had he gotten into such personal stuff with Alberto?
“There’s nothing creepy about it,” Alberto offered the guy what he hoped would pass for a reassuring smile.
“Thanks. For understanding. And for listening too. I know that not all the guys would want to hear about boyfriends and such stuff, but I figured you wouldn’t mind so much.”
“I don’t mind at all. You can say anything to me. You’ll see, it’ll be easier once we know each other better,” Alberto’s voice caught and he tried to keep his mouth closed against a big yawn.
“I’m sure it will be. Meanwhile… can I do anything else? Should we move forward in the pack just a bit? Do you need anything?”
“Nah, it’s fine. Just keep your eyes on the people in front and tell me more about… what did you say your brother had to do when he was in charge of entertaining the public?”
Michael grinned and proceeded to describe Jesper’s antics. Then, he talked about his brothers and their performances, telling Alberto that he had to join them in Copenhagen sometime and see for himself, because there was no way to just describe the amazing atmosphere and the fast racing. Alberto nodded and promised he’d make the trip, thinking that he would most definitely enjoy track racing and the legs on those guys.
As if they were sharing a single brain, Michael told Alberto about the little competitions that they’d had outside racing, like who had the best legs and who was hottest. Of course Alex was hottest, who else, but Michael could not help lamenting how Alex did not get proper recognition for his legs. What were those people in the crowd thinking? Sure, that evil, dratted Brian Holm had been nagging Alex to lose weight and some of the amazingness had worn off around the edges, but Alex still had the best of everything. Right?
“I guess… you’d know best,” Alberto replied, biting the inside of his lip and trying not to laugh at how surprisingly cute Michael was, so obviously smitten although he and Alex had been together since… forever. Or at least that was what Alberto remembered Andy telling him at some point.
“True. But I’m a little biased. Anyway, what am I saying? You probably think that Andy has the best of everything.”
“Not really,” Alberto said before he could catch himself.
“Eh?”
“I mean… I can still appreciate other people and give credit where it’s due, right?” Alberto tried to cover the slip, hoping that Michael would not ask anything else about what was not his business.
Fortunately, Michael seemed to understand that the information sharing didn’t go both ways, at lest not that day. He nodded and dropped a bit behind when he noticed Matti getting closer. Alberto noticed too and he smiled at the other Dane, but his insides churned and he thanked god he was wearing dark sunglasses. That guy was Jakob’s boyfriend and Alberto had nearly fallen off his bike when he’d run into Matti at the startline, because he’d forgotten Matti was also racing in Portugal. It had been possibly even worse when Matti had shaken his hand and welcomed him back in the peloton, making Alberto feel a million times guiltier than he’d ever been before say… his own boyfriend?
Jesus recognized the distraught, ‘save me!’ look on Alberto’s face and he engaged him in random conversation, maneuvering both of them through the pack, until they were far enough from ‘danger’. Before long, Michael caught up and relayed the good news about Matti’s recovery. He said some more nice things about his former team-mate and Alberto grit his teeth, thinking: ‘if you don’t stop, I’m going to cry’.
They were getting closer to the finish line, following the same scenario as ever: a faster tempo to catch the day’s runaways and set up a mass sprint. Since it was not Saxo Bank priority to do any of those things, Alberto spent most of the day’s kilometers safely tucked between his team mates. The only time he’d almost fallen off his bike was not because Alberto could barely keep his eyes open. No, it had happened because Michael was happily ranting about the celebration they’d had in Copenhagen and how there had been a champagne shower back at the hotel. He and Alex had been all wet and more than a little drunk and the next thing Michael knew he was on his knees, tugging on this horrific belt Alex was wearing with his teeth. Ooops!
Alberto swerved to the right, bumping into Jesus. Thankfully, the guy was quick enough to steady himself and then to prop Alberto as well. Of course Alberto wanted every little detail of that drunken encounter, but how was he to get more out of his team mate in the middle of the race and with Michael blushing profusely? That little indiscretion seemed to call the end of Michael’s talkativeness and he spent the remaining kilometers looking ahead and saying only serious, race related stuff. It was alright, though, Alberto had enough confidence in his Spanish Inquisition skills to know that he would make Michael tell him everything sooner or later. Preferably later, when Alberto’s brain felt less like a sieve and when he could see a bit straighter.
***
Jesus walked toward one of the beds and picked up a pillow. He returned to the other room of the not so shabby hotel apartment he was sharing with Alberto and sat back at one end of the couch. He put the pillow on his knees and motioned Alberto to lie down. Alberto yawned, stretched and put his head on the pillow, making himself comfortable. Dani and Michael were also there, lounging in the huge armchairs and just talking. It was still early to go to bed, even if Dani was all but dozing off and Alberto had nearly fallen asleep in mid-sentence.
“I don’t know why they’re not in bed yet,” Jesus commented, patting Alberto’s shoulder when the guy growled in protest. “Yeah, yeah, I mean you.”
Michael tried to not gape at what he was seeing, when Alberto yawed again, snuggled a bit closer to Jesus and sighed happily when the guy squeezed his shoulder in a gentle massage. Were those two… ?!
“Just keep talking. And don’t stop that,” Alberto mumbled, shrugging his shoulder and encouraging Jesus to keep doing what he was doing.
“Big baby… You’ll have to excuse him this time, Michael. It’s not at all like Alberto,” Jesus petted his friend, quieting another growling protest. “He’s not this cranky, or clingy or whatever, but it’s been a long day and…”
“I understand,” the Dane nodded, even though he really didn’t. Well, the extremely tired and at the end of his rope bit he could understand. After all he’d been through, Alberto had every right to not be himself, but still…
“I just missed racing… and being with you guys,” Alberto said, his words partially muffled in the pillow. “Thought I might not get to do this for a while,” he whispered the admission, making Jesus smile at him with a great deal of sympathy.
“You’re here now,” Jesus said, finding it strange to address Alberto in English, but they had to do it for Michael’s benefit.
“If I fall asleep… I might wake up… not here,” Alberto sighed, making the two men still listening to him cringe. Dani was snoring softly, sprawled in the armchair and missing the emotional exchange.
“Shh, you’re here. It’s over. You can relax now,” Jesus told his friend, trying to soothe him with both words and touch as he ran his fingers through Alberto’s hair and over his shoulder.
“Mmmhmm,” Alberto seemed to disagree, but he could no longer quite articulate it. He hugged the pillow and sighed again.
Jesus looked at Michael and shook his head, smiling knowingly.
“He’s going to fall asleep and then make a fuss when I try to wake him and take him to bed.”
The Dane chuckled and Alberto huffed, letting them know he could still hear them. But it took less than a minute for him to fall asleep, while Jesus kept moving his hand over his back in soothing circles.
“That takes care of that,” Jesus smiled fondly. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw Alberto this exhausted. It makes me so mad to think about what he’s been through and to see him like this.”
Michael nodded, unsure what to say. Granted, the Alberto Contador he was looking at had nothing in common with the invincible Conquistador that Andy had bragged about so often… oh, shit, Andy!
Jesus noticed the Dane’s eyes narrowing a bit and focusing on the way he’d rested his arm on Alberto.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” the Spaniard cocked his head and gave the other man a questioning look. “Say what you want to say.”
“Er…”
“Come on, ask me.”
Their voices had gradually dropped to whispers and it was almost inaudible when Michael said:
“Alberto… with you… are you two?”
“Are we what?”
“You know… ”
“No, I don’t know,” Jesus didn’t want to make things any easier.
“I mean… shit, I know it’s none of my business, but Alberto’s with Andy and… there he is… it looks like…,” Michael trailed off, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t see Andy Schleck anywhere. Do you?” Jesus replied a bit more sharply than he’d meant to.
“No, but…”
“Sorry. That didn’t come out right. And the answer is no. I’m not anything except friends with Alberto. Never have been and never will be. I have a fiancée back home.”
“Oh,” Michael barely refrained from smacking his forehead in a loud facepalm.
“I know what this looks like,” Jesus added, putting his arm around Alberto and smiling when Alberto made a small sound of approval. “But it’s not what it looks like. I’m only trying to take care of Alberto. He… Ah, I shouldn’t really be talking about it, but you can’t even imagine the kind of rough moments Alberto has been through these last couple of months. I’ve seen him so discouraged and so upset sometimes… Fucking Andy Schleck wasn’t there to help Alberto when he needed it the most! But I was and if Alberto needed a hug and a shoulder to cry on, it was the least I could do for him. OK?”
Michael gave his team mate a sympathetic and apologetic look.
“I’m straight, but I’m not going to deny my friend the support and the affection he needs. He would and he has done the same for me,” Jesus added.
“That’s… that’s really nice. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. And I certainly didn’t mean to accuse you of anything,” Michael whispered.
“It’s alright. You really had no way of knowing. We’re all new to each other and this situation is unusual to say the least. But it’s not going to be strange and uncomfortable all the time,” Jesus smiled encouragingly. “Maybe tomorrow… tomorrow is going to be strange because Alberto will feel soooo embarrassed about all this. He’s going to apologize, mark my words, even if he’s got nothing to feel bad about and he should cut himself some slack.”
“Yeah… what do I do if he does apologize?”
“Er… nothing? Just tell him it’s OK, you’re even, because you’ve been telling him personal stuff all day, right?”
“Oh god, you heard some of that too?” Michael groaned and covered his face with both hands.
“Only a little. Enough to make me smile and recognize a man in love. Nothing you should feel ashamed of. Seriously.”
Michael felt like getting up and shaking that man’s hand, but doing so might have resulted in waking Alberto up, so the Dane settled for giving Jesus a grateful smile.
“You’re going to get along with Alberto really well, you’ll see. He’s a really good man and only people who don’t know him can say stupid things about him.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when the team first got together.”
“Even then, you didn’t see the real Alberto because he was always struggling to hide the stress and the unease. He’s really just a shadow of himself right now, but it gets better from here and, before long, you’re going to see the Alberto that all of us are gonna want to sell our souls for, on the road.”
Michael needed a moment to absorb the passionate speech. He sighed and nodded slowly, looking at the sleeping Spaniard and thinking that Jesus was wrong. Even if he was exhausted both physically and emotionally, Alberto remained inspiring.
“Can you bring me a blanket, or something?” Jesus asked Michael.
“Yeah. Do I take one for him too?” Michael sat up and pointed to the happily snoozing Dani.
“Nope, you’re taking him back to your room.”
“OK,” the Dane chuckled. He brought one of the duvets from the bedroom and gently spread it over Alberto. “I should get going,” he whispered.
“See if you can wake Dani and take him to bed. He’ll be all stiff and sore if he stays like that any longer.”
That proved to be an easier task than Michael had expected. Dani raised only a token of protest, but he did lean heavily on his Danish team mate, as Michael towed him out of the room. They bid Jesus a good night and left before he could ask one of them for the TV remote-control.
“Here I am, stuck with you,” Jesus smiled, brushing his fingers over Alberto’s cheek. “It’s a 24 hour job, working for you,” he muttered good-naturedly. “Oh, well…,” Jesus leaned back. He closed his eyes and sighed: “It’s good to have you back”.