Fic: Collecting Interest
Title: Collecting Interest
Characters: Alberto Contador, David Millar
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Actually happening. I am not making anything up. Really, all this is true...on planet slashfic, perhaps. IRL, not so much.
Warnings: save for the odd pairing, none that I can think of.
Prompt 052. Sex. from the lover100 challenge, because sex is to be had in this fic. Of-screen, though.
A/N: David Millar keeps surprising me and making me love him more, because of the way he speaks abut Alberto in interviews. Like this one, just now. This has been going on since the beginnings of the Giro and I can't ignore it anymore. So I wrote fic.
“Honestly, I’m only saying what a lot of us think,” David told the other man.
“Maybe, but you’ve got the guts to actually say it, not just cross yourself and think ‘better him than me’,” Alberto replied.
“That too,” the Brit smiled. He took another sip from his drink and studied the man sitting at the other side of the small table.
It was a fine day in France, sunny and not too hot. Hopefully the weather would play nice in a couple of day’s time when the racing was due to start. On that fine day, Alberto had called David, asking him if he’d arrived in France already and if so, could they meet somewhere? Because Alberto had read another one of David’s interviews and he’d been so impressed. He wanted to thank David personally.
David had agreed… his other options for the afternoon were babysitting his team mates and boring lectures by some DS or another about not getting into their cups at dinner. Or worse. Truly, Alberto’s invitation had come right on time. They met at a coffee-shop far enough from their respective hotels to require a taxi and they ordered light drinks, slipping into easy conversation upon sight.
Alberto had meant what he said. He seemed to think that many thanks were in order each time David stepped up and spoke about him in the press. And really, all David did was being honest and speaking his mind.
“Which is why I respect you that much more and I’m grateful that someone like you speaks in my favor,” Alberto smiled. “Especially since I don’t really know what I’ve done to deserve it.”
“It?”
“The favor.”
“I told you before, you’re the most important person in this sport. And the way you treat it, your attitude in competition, the class that you show every time… that’s plenty of reason to put you above all this pettiness.”
“If only…”
“True. But that’s why I can’t just sit back and watch people sling mud at you left and right. If I’m the so called spokesman of the peloton, they need to hear me.”
“David, this is really… it makes me very proud. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Again. Seriously, you need to stop thanking me every five minutes,” David took a small sip from his glass and smiled over the rim, amused by the Spaniard’s reactions and how genuinely pleased Alberto seemed to be.
“Sorry, but I can’t help it. You’ve got this image of an upstanding sportsman and a fighter against doping to defend. Speaking in my favor makes you… I don’t know, it affects your credibility. So of course I’m going to thank you and I’m thinking of ways I can repay your for your kindness.”
“I don’t care if it affects my credibility. Why should it? My credibility should be suffering because of my own past and yet I’ve gained it in spite of all that. But I’ve done my time, I’ve been through a lot and I’ve been called just about anything that I could be called for my past mistakes. So when I see someone going through the same thing, WITHOUT being guilty or convicted, of course I’m going to stand up,” David spoke with enough conviction and enthusiasm to have his companion gaze in wonder.
“There’s that, too. That you believe I’m innocent. That means a lot,” Alberto replied in a soft and much more subdued tone.
“I do believe you. And even if I didn’t, even if you were to confess to me right now, I’d still think you’re a victim of the system.”
“There’s nothing to confess.”
“All the more reason to admire you, then. You’ve been fighting all the accusations and all the negativity thrown at you… while doing wonders on the bike. I’ve never seen a champion of your caliber except maybe… but no, Lance was different, you’re amazingly strong and humble at the same time. And I’m not the only one who thinks this, most of the guys out there who are your rivals, they think and speak highly of you.”
“Haha, not that many. I can tell you plenty of off the top of my head. Those guys would gladly throw me under the bus,” Alberto shook his head.
“That’s because they can’t do anything against you in competition.”
“Well, they are welcome to bite me… or eat my dust, whichever way. I can’t make everyone like me, it’s impossible.”
“But it doesn’t mean that you have to be turned into the black sheep of the peloton either. I’m going to say this over and over again, if and when they ask me things during the Tour. I’m not your garden variety Schleck to go back on my words depending on which side of the bed I got off in the morning,” David slipped in the dig at Alberto’s main rival, watching if Alberto would take the bait or not.
“Ah, Andy… you don’t actually read what that guy says, do you?”
“Only accidentally.”
“Waste of time. On the bike, he’s great to watch… sometimes. But off the bike… shove a microphone in Andy’s face and it’s like his brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t exist.”
“Haha, I know someone like that pretty well, from our own camp,” Dave laughed, thinking of Cav and then Brad and then grimacing.
“Nevermind that and nevermind Andy, I believe I was thanking you for being nice to me,” Alberto smiled brightly, chasing away the pained expression on David’s face.
“Keep that up and I might just start to feel embarrassed.”
“No. Not a good idea. But I do have to repay all that kindness somehow.”
“Alberto… you don’t have to.”
“But I do. I don’t like any favor or kindness to go unappreciated. So if there’s ever a race situation or something…”
“I really don’t think that there’s anything you can do for me on the road. We’re in completely different competitions and I don’t know if you can afford to do anyone any favors in this Tour,” David tried to decline as gracefully as possible.
“If I can, I will. I promise. I never leave any kind of debt unpaid,” Alberto declared seriously.
“But it’s not a debt. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want anything, I just like you. That’s all,” David shrugged, not immediately away of what he’d said.
Alberto blinked a couple of times and his determined expression melted into a soft smile.
“I like you too, David. That’s why there must be something I can do to show you how much I appreciate your kindness.”
The way Alberto pronounced ‘David’ - the Spanish way - sent shivers down the older man’s spine. He debated with himself for a moment, wondering what to do. What was the worst thing that could happen? He’d make a fool of himself. It wouldn’t be the first time and certainly not the last time. Oh, what the hell…
“There is something you could do for me. If you insist so much and only to stop you from saying thank you over and over again,” David finally told the other man.
“I won’t stop thanking you anyway, but tell me. If it’s something I can do… or have it done for you…. What?”
The Spaniard’s eyes grew and he looked adorably confused. As for David, he didn’t say what he wanted with words. He sat back in his chair, pushed his glasses up his nose, tilted his head a bit and smiled. In an unmistakably suggestive manner.
On the other side of the table, Alberto gaped, finally figuring it out.
“Oh,” he exhaled, blinking rapidly, while David watched him and smiled that same, sexy way. “Oooh, that. I can do that. I can DEFINITELY do that,” Alberto looked at David with a stunned but excited expression. “Why didn’t you say so?”
David shrugged in a way that said: “I’m telling you now…”
“Right. Damn. I should have known. I should have noticed. I just never thought that you… with me… waiter!” Alberto waved toward the bar, suddenly going into overdrive.
“Mmm? What are you…”
“Can we have the check, please?” Alberto asked the waiter in a very accented but understandable French.
“We’re leaving?”
“Well, yeah,” Alberto nodded.
“Wait… you want to…now?”
“Yes, now. Before you change your mind.”
David threw his head back and laughed, making Alberto look at him apprehensively.
“You are something, you know?” the older man ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up worse than it had been before. It gave him a youthful look, distracted, like an artist always with his head up in the clouds. It was sexy and Alberto kicked himself for failing to notice that before.
“Something?”
David shook his head. He was still smiling, surprised that his suggestion had been received with such enthusiasm. He’d expected the Spaniard to be more reserved, possibly dismissive, but there Alberto was, his face all lit like a bunch of Christmas lights. It amazed and amused the Brit to no end.
“I hope you’re not messing with me, David,” Alberto’s excitement went down a notch.
“No. Hey, no… of course not. You’re just… I can see you like the idea.”
It was Alberto’s turn to laugh.
“Of course I like the idea. I’m just mad at my self for not thinking about it first. Or, you know… I could have paid more attention.”
“There was nothing to pay attention to. It’s not like I’ve been sending any signals. And word has it you’re not very liberal with your… affections, but when you are… whoa!” Dave’s expression matched his words. “Which is not to say that I’ve been on your side for sexual favors.”
“Hahaha, maybe not. But you’re getting them. Definitely. No going back on it now that the idea is in my head.”
The waiter had returned with the note and Alberto put some bills in it without even looking. He seemed beyond eager to go and David felt some of that agitation catching.
“Your room or mine?” Alberto leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I’m not going to say any bullshit about this being a one time offer… but the Tour is about to start and time is not on our side. So we’d better make the best of it.”
“I can’t argue with that,” David shrugged. He sat up and asked the guy at the bar to call them a taxi.
Alberto was already waiting outside, shading his eyes with his hand, when David returned to his side. He eyed David in a hungry and gleeful manner that nearly sent David into another laughing fit.
“Down, boy…,” David warned teasingly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine, but you know what? If you’re on about owing me and some such… you should know I collect interest for that sort of debt,” David smirked, squinting a bit. Part of it was the sun and part Alberto’s beaming grin.
“I pay really, really well,” the Spaniard declared. He jumped into the taxi as soon as it pulled over in front of them.
On their way back to David’s hotel, they began a heated discussion about debt and interest on the backseat of the cab.
***
It was not someone wearing the back and vivid green of Sky who’s head poked into the hallway when the elevator doors opened. That person did not see Alberto and David spilling from it in a tangle of limbs that nearly landed on the floor. The guy in question did not clutch the door so hard that his knuckles turned white, nor did he draw back when the grappling duo passed by, groaning and making all kinds of wet sounds as they went. Nor did he see them stopping before David’s door, where Alberto’s hands disappeared inside David’s pants, much to the guy’s approval. But it was hard to fit the card in the slot and David cursed colorfully, tossing his head back. Behind him, Alberto’s teeth dug into David’s shirt and he tugged on it, while his hands moved as though they were skimming hot iron.
The hapless onlooker didn’t see how David finally got the door open, tumbling inside the room and yanking Alberto after him. He did not hear the door bang shut and then one of those two slammed the other against it with a heavy thud.
He hadn’t come to see David and maybe talk to him after a million years of silence, only to find out from his team mates that David had gone out. No, he was not there and his name was absolutely not Bradley Wiggins.
Characters: Alberto Contador, David Millar
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Actually happening. I am not making anything up. Really, all this is true...on planet slashfic, perhaps. IRL, not so much.
Warnings: save for the odd pairing, none that I can think of.
Prompt 052. Sex. from the lover100 challenge, because sex is to be had in this fic. Of-screen, though.
A/N: David Millar keeps surprising me and making me love him more, because of the way he speaks abut Alberto in interviews. Like this one, just now. This has been going on since the beginnings of the Giro and I can't ignore it anymore. So I wrote fic.
“Honestly, I’m only saying what a lot of us think,” David told the other man.
“Maybe, but you’ve got the guts to actually say it, not just cross yourself and think ‘better him than me’,” Alberto replied.
“That too,” the Brit smiled. He took another sip from his drink and studied the man sitting at the other side of the small table.
It was a fine day in France, sunny and not too hot. Hopefully the weather would play nice in a couple of day’s time when the racing was due to start. On that fine day, Alberto had called David, asking him if he’d arrived in France already and if so, could they meet somewhere? Because Alberto had read another one of David’s interviews and he’d been so impressed. He wanted to thank David personally.
David had agreed… his other options for the afternoon were babysitting his team mates and boring lectures by some DS or another about not getting into their cups at dinner. Or worse. Truly, Alberto’s invitation had come right on time. They met at a coffee-shop far enough from their respective hotels to require a taxi and they ordered light drinks, slipping into easy conversation upon sight.
Alberto had meant what he said. He seemed to think that many thanks were in order each time David stepped up and spoke about him in the press. And really, all David did was being honest and speaking his mind.
“Which is why I respect you that much more and I’m grateful that someone like you speaks in my favor,” Alberto smiled. “Especially since I don’t really know what I’ve done to deserve it.”
“It?”
“The favor.”
“I told you before, you’re the most important person in this sport. And the way you treat it, your attitude in competition, the class that you show every time… that’s plenty of reason to put you above all this pettiness.”
“If only…”
“True. But that’s why I can’t just sit back and watch people sling mud at you left and right. If I’m the so called spokesman of the peloton, they need to hear me.”
“David, this is really… it makes me very proud. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Again. Seriously, you need to stop thanking me every five minutes,” David took a small sip from his glass and smiled over the rim, amused by the Spaniard’s reactions and how genuinely pleased Alberto seemed to be.
“Sorry, but I can’t help it. You’ve got this image of an upstanding sportsman and a fighter against doping to defend. Speaking in my favor makes you… I don’t know, it affects your credibility. So of course I’m going to thank you and I’m thinking of ways I can repay your for your kindness.”
“I don’t care if it affects my credibility. Why should it? My credibility should be suffering because of my own past and yet I’ve gained it in spite of all that. But I’ve done my time, I’ve been through a lot and I’ve been called just about anything that I could be called for my past mistakes. So when I see someone going through the same thing, WITHOUT being guilty or convicted, of course I’m going to stand up,” David spoke with enough conviction and enthusiasm to have his companion gaze in wonder.
“There’s that, too. That you believe I’m innocent. That means a lot,” Alberto replied in a soft and much more subdued tone.
“I do believe you. And even if I didn’t, even if you were to confess to me right now, I’d still think you’re a victim of the system.”
“There’s nothing to confess.”
“All the more reason to admire you, then. You’ve been fighting all the accusations and all the negativity thrown at you… while doing wonders on the bike. I’ve never seen a champion of your caliber except maybe… but no, Lance was different, you’re amazingly strong and humble at the same time. And I’m not the only one who thinks this, most of the guys out there who are your rivals, they think and speak highly of you.”
“Haha, not that many. I can tell you plenty of off the top of my head. Those guys would gladly throw me under the bus,” Alberto shook his head.
“That’s because they can’t do anything against you in competition.”
“Well, they are welcome to bite me… or eat my dust, whichever way. I can’t make everyone like me, it’s impossible.”
“But it doesn’t mean that you have to be turned into the black sheep of the peloton either. I’m going to say this over and over again, if and when they ask me things during the Tour. I’m not your garden variety Schleck to go back on my words depending on which side of the bed I got off in the morning,” David slipped in the dig at Alberto’s main rival, watching if Alberto would take the bait or not.
“Ah, Andy… you don’t actually read what that guy says, do you?”
“Only accidentally.”
“Waste of time. On the bike, he’s great to watch… sometimes. But off the bike… shove a microphone in Andy’s face and it’s like his brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t exist.”
“Haha, I know someone like that pretty well, from our own camp,” Dave laughed, thinking of Cav and then Brad and then grimacing.
“Nevermind that and nevermind Andy, I believe I was thanking you for being nice to me,” Alberto smiled brightly, chasing away the pained expression on David’s face.
“Keep that up and I might just start to feel embarrassed.”
“No. Not a good idea. But I do have to repay all that kindness somehow.”
“Alberto… you don’t have to.”
“But I do. I don’t like any favor or kindness to go unappreciated. So if there’s ever a race situation or something…”
“I really don’t think that there’s anything you can do for me on the road. We’re in completely different competitions and I don’t know if you can afford to do anyone any favors in this Tour,” David tried to decline as gracefully as possible.
“If I can, I will. I promise. I never leave any kind of debt unpaid,” Alberto declared seriously.
“But it’s not a debt. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want anything, I just like you. That’s all,” David shrugged, not immediately away of what he’d said.
Alberto blinked a couple of times and his determined expression melted into a soft smile.
“I like you too, David. That’s why there must be something I can do to show you how much I appreciate your kindness.”
The way Alberto pronounced ‘David’ - the Spanish way - sent shivers down the older man’s spine. He debated with himself for a moment, wondering what to do. What was the worst thing that could happen? He’d make a fool of himself. It wouldn’t be the first time and certainly not the last time. Oh, what the hell…
“There is something you could do for me. If you insist so much and only to stop you from saying thank you over and over again,” David finally told the other man.
“I won’t stop thanking you anyway, but tell me. If it’s something I can do… or have it done for you…. What?”
The Spaniard’s eyes grew and he looked adorably confused. As for David, he didn’t say what he wanted with words. He sat back in his chair, pushed his glasses up his nose, tilted his head a bit and smiled. In an unmistakably suggestive manner.
On the other side of the table, Alberto gaped, finally figuring it out.
“Oh,” he exhaled, blinking rapidly, while David watched him and smiled that same, sexy way. “Oooh, that. I can do that. I can DEFINITELY do that,” Alberto looked at David with a stunned but excited expression. “Why didn’t you say so?”
David shrugged in a way that said: “I’m telling you now…”
“Right. Damn. I should have known. I should have noticed. I just never thought that you… with me… waiter!” Alberto waved toward the bar, suddenly going into overdrive.
“Mmm? What are you…”
“Can we have the check, please?” Alberto asked the waiter in a very accented but understandable French.
“We’re leaving?”
“Well, yeah,” Alberto nodded.
“Wait… you want to…now?”
“Yes, now. Before you change your mind.”
David threw his head back and laughed, making Alberto look at him apprehensively.
“You are something, you know?” the older man ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up worse than it had been before. It gave him a youthful look, distracted, like an artist always with his head up in the clouds. It was sexy and Alberto kicked himself for failing to notice that before.
“Something?”
David shook his head. He was still smiling, surprised that his suggestion had been received with such enthusiasm. He’d expected the Spaniard to be more reserved, possibly dismissive, but there Alberto was, his face all lit like a bunch of Christmas lights. It amazed and amused the Brit to no end.
“I hope you’re not messing with me, David,” Alberto’s excitement went down a notch.
“No. Hey, no… of course not. You’re just… I can see you like the idea.”
It was Alberto’s turn to laugh.
“Of course I like the idea. I’m just mad at my self for not thinking about it first. Or, you know… I could have paid more attention.”
“There was nothing to pay attention to. It’s not like I’ve been sending any signals. And word has it you’re not very liberal with your… affections, but when you are… whoa!” Dave’s expression matched his words. “Which is not to say that I’ve been on your side for sexual favors.”
“Hahaha, maybe not. But you’re getting them. Definitely. No going back on it now that the idea is in my head.”
The waiter had returned with the note and Alberto put some bills in it without even looking. He seemed beyond eager to go and David felt some of that agitation catching.
“Your room or mine?” Alberto leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I’m not going to say any bullshit about this being a one time offer… but the Tour is about to start and time is not on our side. So we’d better make the best of it.”
“I can’t argue with that,” David shrugged. He sat up and asked the guy at the bar to call them a taxi.
Alberto was already waiting outside, shading his eyes with his hand, when David returned to his side. He eyed David in a hungry and gleeful manner that nearly sent David into another laughing fit.
“Down, boy…,” David warned teasingly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine, but you know what? If you’re on about owing me and some such… you should know I collect interest for that sort of debt,” David smirked, squinting a bit. Part of it was the sun and part Alberto’s beaming grin.
“I pay really, really well,” the Spaniard declared. He jumped into the taxi as soon as it pulled over in front of them.
On their way back to David’s hotel, they began a heated discussion about debt and interest on the backseat of the cab.
***
It was not someone wearing the back and vivid green of Sky who’s head poked into the hallway when the elevator doors opened. That person did not see Alberto and David spilling from it in a tangle of limbs that nearly landed on the floor. The guy in question did not clutch the door so hard that his knuckles turned white, nor did he draw back when the grappling duo passed by, groaning and making all kinds of wet sounds as they went. Nor did he see them stopping before David’s door, where Alberto’s hands disappeared inside David’s pants, much to the guy’s approval. But it was hard to fit the card in the slot and David cursed colorfully, tossing his head back. Behind him, Alberto’s teeth dug into David’s shirt and he tugged on it, while his hands moved as though they were skimming hot iron.
The hapless onlooker didn’t see how David finally got the door open, tumbling inside the room and yanking Alberto after him. He did not hear the door bang shut and then one of those two slammed the other against it with a heavy thud.
He hadn’t come to see David and maybe talk to him after a million years of silence, only to find out from his team mates that David had gone out. No, he was not there and his name was absolutely not Bradley Wiggins.