Five Valentines for Iker Muniain
Five Valentines
(whether they knew it or not)
A little PG ficlet
Iker Muniain and: Javi Martinez, Ander Herrera, Mikel San Jose, Gorka Iraizoz, David de Gea.
Originally posted here (comm-locked)
Iker calls David first thing but there is no answer. Probably because it’s six in the morning in England, and David doesn’t leave his phone on. He leaves a message for David to call him back because it’s important.
When Javi picks him up for training Iker grapples across the centre console and wraps his arms around Javi’s neck. “You know you’re my Valentine, right?”
Javi scoffs, but he looks sort of pleased. “Okay,” he says. “Whatever.”
“And I’m yours too,” Iker prompts.
“I have a girlfriend,” Javi says, protesting.
Iker looks put out. “Whatever,” he says, sliding down in his seat and putting his feet up on the dashboard.
“Get your fucking feet off my car,” Javi says, and Iker complies.
“Okay,” Javi says, “Yes you’re my valentine. It’s not like I know what to do with my girlfriend anyway.”
Iker sniggers, but he looks pleased when Javi looks across.
Iker calls David again when they get to practice, but misses him again. David has messaged him, ‘what is it?’ but Iker doesn’t reply, just calls him, gets his answer phone and leaves the same message again.
Ander comes up behind him while he’s leaving the message and wraps his arms around Iker. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, and Iker grins. He finishes the message, hangs up, and turns around as Ander walks away. “Ander you’re my one true valentine,” Iker says, clutching at his heart. Ander smiles, and later in practice he kisses Iker’s cheek.
“Mikel will you be my Valentine?” Iker says, facing up to him in five-a-side. He feigns one direction and then the other and just as Mikel says yes, Iker nutmegs him.
Mikel gives him a card that he makes at lunch: paper torn from Llorente’s diary and a pen stolen from the cafeteria staff. He draws two people playing football, with happy faces. One of them is kicking the other over. “Be my Valentine,” it says, “And I’ll tackle you to the ground.” Iker loves it.
When they’re leaving, Iker jumps at Gorka, trying to hang off him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, and Gorka picks him up and hoists him over his shoulder. Iker takes it as a sign of love.
He gets home and calls David. This time, David answers.
“Hi,” Iker says, grinning sort of stupidly.
“What’s up?” says David. “What’s so important?”
“Nothing,” Iker says, going into his room and shutting the door. “How was training?”
---
(whether they knew it or not)
A little PG ficlet
Iker Muniain and: Javi Martinez, Ander Herrera, Mikel San Jose, Gorka Iraizoz, David de Gea.
Originally posted here (comm-locked)
Iker calls David first thing but there is no answer. Probably because it’s six in the morning in England, and David doesn’t leave his phone on. He leaves a message for David to call him back because it’s important.
When Javi picks him up for training Iker grapples across the centre console and wraps his arms around Javi’s neck. “You know you’re my Valentine, right?”
Javi scoffs, but he looks sort of pleased. “Okay,” he says. “Whatever.”
“And I’m yours too,” Iker prompts.
“I have a girlfriend,” Javi says, protesting.
Iker looks put out. “Whatever,” he says, sliding down in his seat and putting his feet up on the dashboard.
“Get your fucking feet off my car,” Javi says, and Iker complies.
“Okay,” Javi says, “Yes you’re my valentine. It’s not like I know what to do with my girlfriend anyway.”
Iker sniggers, but he looks pleased when Javi looks across.
Iker calls David again when they get to practice, but misses him again. David has messaged him, ‘what is it?’ but Iker doesn’t reply, just calls him, gets his answer phone and leaves the same message again.
Ander comes up behind him while he’s leaving the message and wraps his arms around Iker. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, and Iker grins. He finishes the message, hangs up, and turns around as Ander walks away. “Ander you’re my one true valentine,” Iker says, clutching at his heart. Ander smiles, and later in practice he kisses Iker’s cheek.
“Mikel will you be my Valentine?” Iker says, facing up to him in five-a-side. He feigns one direction and then the other and just as Mikel says yes, Iker nutmegs him.
Mikel gives him a card that he makes at lunch: paper torn from Llorente’s diary and a pen stolen from the cafeteria staff. He draws two people playing football, with happy faces. One of them is kicking the other over. “Be my Valentine,” it says, “And I’ll tackle you to the ground.” Iker loves it.
When they’re leaving, Iker jumps at Gorka, trying to hang off him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, and Gorka picks him up and hoists him over his shoulder. Iker takes it as a sign of love.
He gets home and calls David. This time, David answers.
“Hi,” Iker says, grinning sort of stupidly.
“What’s up?” says David. “What’s so important?”
“Nothing,” Iker says, going into his room and shutting the door. “How was training?”
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