(no subject)
title: something to look forward to
pairing: gonzalo higuain/leo messi (but barely)
rating: pg
words: 1350
summary: after the argentina-chile game, gonzalo can't sleep.
Gonzalo knows it’s just one game; that anything can happen in one game and anything can happen after. It just feels like it's been so long since they had something to celebrate, something to look forward to.
Leo hands him the game ball. His second in as many games. “Congratulations,” he says in his soft voice, and it’s been a long time since Gonzalo saw him look that happy, too, and he likes it.
In the dressing room they all sign the ball; he’s embarrassed but after the year he’s had, his injury and the Copa and now, coming back, he’s glad; he’s glad and he can’t pretend not to like the attention and most of all, the feeling of victory, of usefulness.
Ángel writes “you’re welcome for the assists,” and Zaba writes “don’t let it go to your head,” and Leo, Leo just writes “Felicidades, crack,” but his smile is so wide Gonzalo doesn’t really care what the ball says, because he’ll remember that more than anything.
They have another game in three days so it’s not like they can celebrate, not really, just an excited bus ride back to the hotel and a snack and then it’s bed time. Gonzalo sits up in his room, too much adrenaline for sleep. He wishes Eze were here, because Gonzalo knows he wouldn’t be asleep either and that he’d come to Gonzalo’s room and they’d watch movies or youtube videos or something until their bodies forced them to crash in the early morning hours.
But Eze isn’t here. Gonzalo thinks of calling him, but it’s late in Portugal and Eze has a different life now, maybe. One without Gonzalo, at least.
He goes to Ángel’s room but he’s on the phone with his wife and Gonzalo leaves. He hopes there’s someone in the hallway to entertain him, but it’s empty, quiet as a tomb, and he wonders how everyone else can sleep after that game.
He’s just ducked back into his own room when he hears a door nearby open and then shut quietly, and he pokes his head back in the hallway to see Leo, back to Gonzalo, walking away.
“Leo,” he calls, without thinking about it.
Leo turns and he looks surprised, but he walks back toward Gonzalo. “What are you doing?” he asks. Gonzalo doesn’t know how to answer.
“Nothing,” he says. “Can’t sleep. You?”
“Yeah,” Leo says. He’s rubbing his neck, looking up at Gonzalo, and Gonzalo likes that, that Leo has to look up at him. “Javier just went to bed, but I’m not tired yet.”
Maybe if Gonzalo knew Leo better he would know if it’s normal for him to not sleep easily after a game. He knows some guys who fall asleep instantly and some who are up all night, high on adrenaline. He tends toward the latter, but he can’t remember if he knows which Leo is, if he’s ever had a chance to find out.
“Wanna play some FIFA or something?” he asks, because he’s desperate from boredom at this point.
Leo looks blank for a second and Gonzalo realizes his mistake. “You brought a console?” Leo asks. “Even though the míster banned them?”
Leo’s smiling a little and it’s not like Gonzalo is worried Leo will rat him out; but he wants Leo to know, he hopes Leo knows that he might like to mess around, and he might joke a lot and party sometimes, but he’s serious about this. About Argentina.
“Yeah, well,” he says, and scratches his neck. “Just force of habit, I guess.”
And Leo smiles more, steps closer. “I brought mine too.” It takes Gonzalo by surprise. He wants to laugh, but he doesn’t; he pulls his door wider because he thinks that means yes.
Gonzalo boots the game up and they don’t talk. It’s not that Leo makes him nervous, Gonzalo doesn’t know if Leo could make anyone nervous if he wanted to, it’s just that Gonzalo doesn’t know quite how to be around him, not like he does with Eze or with Ángel or even with Fernando.
When the game starts up, he hovers over La Liga. They have a pact, him and Leo and Javier and Ángel, that they don’t talk about clubs, not at all, but Gonzalo doesn’t know if that translates even to FIFA. He glances at Leo.
“No clubs,” Leo says, softly but firmly. He doesn’t look over, just knows what Gonzalo is thinking.
Gonzalo doesn’t care and switches to Premier League, but he can’t help asking. “Really? It’s just a game though.”
Gonzalo can feel his eyes on the side on his face. “It’s all just a game,” Leo says after a moment, laughing, and Gonzalo gets it. He wonders if being captain has changed Leo a little bit, given him a bit of quiet confidence. It seems like it has, but maybe it’s just getting older, or maybe it’s just how he’s always been, because Gonzalo wouldn’t really know.
Leo picks Manchester City and so Gonzalo picks Manchester United. Video Kun takes off within the first minute and leaves video De Gea caught unaware.
“What the-“ Gonzalo starts. Leo’s grinning.
“Too many doughnuts,” he says mildly, and Gonzalo laughs loudly, surprised.
“Didn’t take you for the type to read that kind of news,” Gonzalo says, even though he doesn’t really take Leo for any kind of type.
“I hear things,” Leo replies cryptically, and he laughs quietly after a moment to let Gonzalo knows he’s joking.
Gonzalo smiles, just to himself, private. He’s happy and he likes this. Likes Leo. He’s even happier a moment later when Rooney breaks away and slams one past Joe Hart; Gonzalo lets out a whoop.
Leo shushes him. “You’re going to get us in trouble,” he says, face set stubbornly, his smile gone, and it makes Gonzalo laugh inwardly to think he even hates to lose on FIFA. Gonzalo nudges him with his elbow but he doesn’t say anything else.
They play until the half with no more scoring and little talking, and Leo turns to him and asks if he has any water.
“Yeah,” he says, “Of course,” and when he returns with a bottle for each of them, Leo’s sprawled on the floor on his stomach, head down. Gonzalo thinks for a moment he’s asleep, but then he lifts his head and reaches out a hand for the bottle.
“Thanks,” he says, and Gonzalo reclines on the floor next to him, just his head propped up against the foot of the bed behind him. They drink their water in silence and don’t restart the game, but it’s not awkward, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
“I liked tonight,” Gonzalo says finally. “It felt… god, it felt good.” He knows they’re all happy, all excited about the win, but Gonzalo means personally, doing that well felt good on a personal level, and he thinks Leo will get that.
Leo’s looking down at the floor and when he looks up he’s smiling so brightly, so widely, Gonzalo can see all his teeth, straight and white, deep dimples carved into his cheeks. “I know what you mean,” he says, and they look at each other and can't stop grinning. Gonzalo thinks about touching him; he thinks about whether Leo's flushed cheeks would feel heated under his lips. But he only lets himself reach out and lay a hand across Leo's back, fingers notching between the ridges of his spine. Leo just lays his head down on his hands on the floor and they stay there, still and quiet.
Gonzalo leans back against the bed, letting his eyes fall shut. His mind’s still awake and racing but his body is tired. He keeps a hand on Leo’s back, warm and solid and rising and falling beneath him, and eventually it lulls him to sleep.
When he wakes up he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but there’s a blanket tossed across his lap. Leo’s gone. Their game is still paused on the TV, tied. He saves it before he throws himself into bed, hoping they’ll finish it later.
pairing: gonzalo higuain/leo messi (but barely)
rating: pg
words: 1350
summary: after the argentina-chile game, gonzalo can't sleep.
Gonzalo knows it’s just one game; that anything can happen in one game and anything can happen after. It just feels like it's been so long since they had something to celebrate, something to look forward to.
Leo hands him the game ball. His second in as many games. “Congratulations,” he says in his soft voice, and it’s been a long time since Gonzalo saw him look that happy, too, and he likes it.
In the dressing room they all sign the ball; he’s embarrassed but after the year he’s had, his injury and the Copa and now, coming back, he’s glad; he’s glad and he can’t pretend not to like the attention and most of all, the feeling of victory, of usefulness.
Ángel writes “you’re welcome for the assists,” and Zaba writes “don’t let it go to your head,” and Leo, Leo just writes “Felicidades, crack,” but his smile is so wide Gonzalo doesn’t really care what the ball says, because he’ll remember that more than anything.
They have another game in three days so it’s not like they can celebrate, not really, just an excited bus ride back to the hotel and a snack and then it’s bed time. Gonzalo sits up in his room, too much adrenaline for sleep. He wishes Eze were here, because Gonzalo knows he wouldn’t be asleep either and that he’d come to Gonzalo’s room and they’d watch movies or youtube videos or something until their bodies forced them to crash in the early morning hours.
But Eze isn’t here. Gonzalo thinks of calling him, but it’s late in Portugal and Eze has a different life now, maybe. One without Gonzalo, at least.
He goes to Ángel’s room but he’s on the phone with his wife and Gonzalo leaves. He hopes there’s someone in the hallway to entertain him, but it’s empty, quiet as a tomb, and he wonders how everyone else can sleep after that game.
He’s just ducked back into his own room when he hears a door nearby open and then shut quietly, and he pokes his head back in the hallway to see Leo, back to Gonzalo, walking away.
“Leo,” he calls, without thinking about it.
Leo turns and he looks surprised, but he walks back toward Gonzalo. “What are you doing?” he asks. Gonzalo doesn’t know how to answer.
“Nothing,” he says. “Can’t sleep. You?”
“Yeah,” Leo says. He’s rubbing his neck, looking up at Gonzalo, and Gonzalo likes that, that Leo has to look up at him. “Javier just went to bed, but I’m not tired yet.”
Maybe if Gonzalo knew Leo better he would know if it’s normal for him to not sleep easily after a game. He knows some guys who fall asleep instantly and some who are up all night, high on adrenaline. He tends toward the latter, but he can’t remember if he knows which Leo is, if he’s ever had a chance to find out.
“Wanna play some FIFA or something?” he asks, because he’s desperate from boredom at this point.
Leo looks blank for a second and Gonzalo realizes his mistake. “You brought a console?” Leo asks. “Even though the míster banned them?”
Leo’s smiling a little and it’s not like Gonzalo is worried Leo will rat him out; but he wants Leo to know, he hopes Leo knows that he might like to mess around, and he might joke a lot and party sometimes, but he’s serious about this. About Argentina.
“Yeah, well,” he says, and scratches his neck. “Just force of habit, I guess.”
And Leo smiles more, steps closer. “I brought mine too.” It takes Gonzalo by surprise. He wants to laugh, but he doesn’t; he pulls his door wider because he thinks that means yes.
Gonzalo boots the game up and they don’t talk. It’s not that Leo makes him nervous, Gonzalo doesn’t know if Leo could make anyone nervous if he wanted to, it’s just that Gonzalo doesn’t know quite how to be around him, not like he does with Eze or with Ángel or even with Fernando.
When the game starts up, he hovers over La Liga. They have a pact, him and Leo and Javier and Ángel, that they don’t talk about clubs, not at all, but Gonzalo doesn’t know if that translates even to FIFA. He glances at Leo.
“No clubs,” Leo says, softly but firmly. He doesn’t look over, just knows what Gonzalo is thinking.
Gonzalo doesn’t care and switches to Premier League, but he can’t help asking. “Really? It’s just a game though.”
Gonzalo can feel his eyes on the side on his face. “It’s all just a game,” Leo says after a moment, laughing, and Gonzalo gets it. He wonders if being captain has changed Leo a little bit, given him a bit of quiet confidence. It seems like it has, but maybe it’s just getting older, or maybe it’s just how he’s always been, because Gonzalo wouldn’t really know.
Leo picks Manchester City and so Gonzalo picks Manchester United. Video Kun takes off within the first minute and leaves video De Gea caught unaware.
“What the-“ Gonzalo starts. Leo’s grinning.
“Too many doughnuts,” he says mildly, and Gonzalo laughs loudly, surprised.
“Didn’t take you for the type to read that kind of news,” Gonzalo says, even though he doesn’t really take Leo for any kind of type.
“I hear things,” Leo replies cryptically, and he laughs quietly after a moment to let Gonzalo knows he’s joking.
Gonzalo smiles, just to himself, private. He’s happy and he likes this. Likes Leo. He’s even happier a moment later when Rooney breaks away and slams one past Joe Hart; Gonzalo lets out a whoop.
Leo shushes him. “You’re going to get us in trouble,” he says, face set stubbornly, his smile gone, and it makes Gonzalo laugh inwardly to think he even hates to lose on FIFA. Gonzalo nudges him with his elbow but he doesn’t say anything else.
They play until the half with no more scoring and little talking, and Leo turns to him and asks if he has any water.
“Yeah,” he says, “Of course,” and when he returns with a bottle for each of them, Leo’s sprawled on the floor on his stomach, head down. Gonzalo thinks for a moment he’s asleep, but then he lifts his head and reaches out a hand for the bottle.
“Thanks,” he says, and Gonzalo reclines on the floor next to him, just his head propped up against the foot of the bed behind him. They drink their water in silence and don’t restart the game, but it’s not awkward, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
“I liked tonight,” Gonzalo says finally. “It felt… god, it felt good.” He knows they’re all happy, all excited about the win, but Gonzalo means personally, doing that well felt good on a personal level, and he thinks Leo will get that.
Leo’s looking down at the floor and when he looks up he’s smiling so brightly, so widely, Gonzalo can see all his teeth, straight and white, deep dimples carved into his cheeks. “I know what you mean,” he says, and they look at each other and can't stop grinning. Gonzalo thinks about touching him; he thinks about whether Leo's flushed cheeks would feel heated under his lips. But he only lets himself reach out and lay a hand across Leo's back, fingers notching between the ridges of his spine. Leo just lays his head down on his hands on the floor and they stay there, still and quiet.
Gonzalo leans back against the bed, letting his eyes fall shut. His mind’s still awake and racing but his body is tired. He keeps a hand on Leo’s back, warm and solid and rising and falling beneath him, and eventually it lulls him to sleep.
When he wakes up he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but there’s a blanket tossed across his lap. Leo’s gone. Their game is still paused on the TV, tied. He saves it before he throws himself into bed, hoping they’ll finish it later.