tequila and itching powder
Title: Tequila And Itching Powder
Characters: Sergio Ramos / Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso, Cesc Fàbregas.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some language and sexual references.
Disclaimer: You'd have to be smoking an intense amount of crack to think that this is real.
Inspired by: drbillbongo 's fabulous icon and cleverly-disguised plotbunny. ♥
Notes: I don't even know what to say. :/ I wrote this when Aragonés was still the manager of La Selección, so, uh, yeah.
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.
"Sergio, come here!"
"You don't look too good, man."
"Oh, no, I'm great. In fact - I have a cunning plan."
". . . Xabi? Have you been drinking?"
"No! Why do you always ask me that?"
"I don't. I only ask you that when you come to training smelling like vodka."
"I don't smell like vodka. . . It's tequila."
"Jesus, I'm sorry I can't tell apart the different alcohols on your breath."
"I'm not Jesus."
"You could have fooled me."
"Really?"
"No."
"How come you never smell like alcohol?"
"Hmm, let me think about that. It might be three kinds of strong-smelling product in my hair. Or it might be because I don't drink whenever I pass the mini-bar in my hotel room."
"Three? Woah."
"There is a reason why my hair is infinitely better than yours."
"Oh yeah, what's that?"
". . . I'm God."
"Woah. . . Really?"
"Yes. And I order you to go to your hotel room and brush your fucking teeth, your breath is gross."
"Hey, I don't think God swears like that."
"Damn, you've caught me."
"Haha! I'm so smart!"
"You're so drunk."
"Can we talk about my plan now?"
"Xabi, the last time you came up with a plan, Fernando and I ended up trying to get the image of a half-naked Aragonés out of our heads. Oh shit, I just remembered it again."
"My plan is better this time. We'll be guaranteed to have a day off tomorrow!"
"I really don't know if I want to be listening to this."
"Do you want to train in forty-degree heat or not?"
"Well, my hair doesn't."
"Your hair told you that?"
"That's it. There is no way I'm listening to somebody who thinks my hair can talk."
"No, you have to listen! It's a great plan: we put itching powder in Aragonés' clothes!"
". . . That was your last plan."
"Oh, was it?"
"Yes. And it failed. Miserably. I believe that was the reason why you started drinking."
"I don't get why you're so obsessed with my drinking."
"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's the fact that you're shoving your tequila breath in my face?!"
"Oh, sorry. But I really think my plan will work this time. Just, you know - avoid his bathroom."
"Yeah, because I totally plan on going there again."
"You do? Are you crazy?"
"No. I'm one sarcastic motherfucker."
* * * * *
"Fernando José Torres Sanz!"
"Sergio Ramos García!"
"Nah, doesn't have the same ring to it."
"Damn."
"Will you get off that fucking Playstation? The laundry's coming in soon, we have to grab Aragonés' training kit!"
". . . Have you been drinking?"
"What? No!"
"You smell like tequila."
"Eurgh, Xabi was all over me before."
"He what? Oh, I am going to kill that son of a -"
"Nando, calm down. There is no way I would let that walking liquor-store near me - in that way."
"I should think not. It's not like he's any good, anyway."
"He what now?!"
". . . What are the chances of you forgetting what I just said?"
"Slim to none."
"Can you pretend?"
"If by 'pretend' you mean 'wait until later to punish you', then yes, I suppose I can."
"By 'punish' do you mean 'punish me with hot hate sex'?"
"If you're willing to help me with Xabi's plan."
"Sergio, his last plan -"
"I know. Do you still have that itching powder we used?"
"Yes, because I carry itching powder everywhere I travel."
"Hey, I'm the sarcastic one in this relationship."
"No, you're supposed to be the ditzy one. I bring the cattiness, you bring the conditioner."
"Well, who brings the itching powder?"
". . . Cesc?"
* * * * *
"Hey, Cesc - over here."
"Why are you whispering, Fernando?"
"Shh, not so loud! I don't want the boss to hear us."
"Why not?"
"Because whenever he sees two players talking, he automatically thinks that they're conspiring against him."
"And we're not?"
"Well, we are, actually. Do you have itching powder?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
"You do?"
"Yeah, last time we had a national team meet, Villa kept on teasing me because I phone my mother every night before I go to sleep."
". . . Cesc, that is a little sad."
"Don't you start too! I swore that the next person who made fun of me would be severely punished. So I brought itching powder."
"Isn't that a little harsh?"
"Aren't you the one who wants to use it on Aragonés?"
"Okay, yeah, good point. Can I?"
". . . What's in it for me?"
"What's in it for you? We get to miss training for at least one day, that's what's in it for you!"
"But I like training!"
"Stop pouting, you look a constipated fish."
"Well, you're not going to convince me that way."
"Okay, I'm sorry. It's just that the weather's going to be scorching tomorrow, and we'd all just rather have a day off."
"I wouldn't."
"Look, am I going to have to wrestle you for that itching powder? I'm not leaving you alone until I get it."
"Fine by me. I could use an audience, anyway. I'm giving a speech at this Arsenal dinner next week and I have to rehearse it."
"Uh, I really don't want to -"
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, it gives me great pleasure to introduce a man who has long been an irreplaceable member of the Arsenal family -"
"The Arsenal family?"
"A man who has risen above his critics to become one of the best in his field -"
"Geez, suck-up much, Cesc?"
"A man without whose talents Arsenal would not be the club it is today -"
"Yeah, a sucky club of suck!"
"Put your hands together for Manuel Almunia!"
". . . That whole thing was about Almunia?"
"It's his birthday on Tuesday. We're having a party. With karaoke!"
* * * * *
"Sergio! Did it work?"
"I am never speaking to you again, Xabi."
"Woah, what happened to your face?"
"Your fucking brilliant plan is what happened to it!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Fernando, the genius, got my kit mixed up with Aragonés' kit! So I ended up with itching powder all over me!"
"Fernando's not a genius."
"Neither are you, apparently."
"Oh, but I am! I come up with cunning plans!"
"Well, have you got a cunning plan to get rid of this rash?"
"Sergio - I can't just think of a plan. I have to wait for it to come to my head."
"Well, you don't have to wait for my fist to come to your -"
"Woah, woah, what are you doing? Are you crazy?"
"No, I'm just very, very itchy!"
"That's no reason to go around punching people! I didn't make you itchy. Fernando did."
"But I can't punch him."
"Why not? . . .Will he cry?"
"Because then he'll never have sex with me."
"You have a big ugly rash on your face. I don't think he'll have sex with you anyway."
". . . I would advise you not to speak any more, if you wish to keep your face free of my fist."
"Ooh, great alliteration there."
"Okay, I'm counting to ten. One, two -"
"I think you should see a doctor, Sergio. For that rash."
"Five, six -"
"And maybe for the anger management problems."
"I didn't have fucking anger management problems until I met you and your alcohol-fuelled plans!"
"Sergio, now you're making no sense. . . My plans didn't have the alcohol, I did."
". . . You know what would make me feel a lot better, Xabi?"
"Oh, what?"
"If you could go over to Aragonés, and tell him nice and quietly - you know, whisper, I don't want everyone hearing - that I may need some medical attention."
"Oh, sure!"
"Make sure you come really close to him and whisper right up against his face. Really close."
"Yeah, of course. I mean, you look like enough of an idiot, I understand that you don't want to draw any more attention to your big ugly rash of doom."
". . . Thanks, Xabi. You're a pal."
* * * * *
"Did you hear, Sergio?"
"What, Cesc?"
"Training's been cancelled."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, Aragonés smelt alcohol on Xabi's breath and totally flipped out! And then he said training would be cancelled while he tried to figure out some way to punish Xabi."
"You know, I had no idea. None whatsoever. Looks like we have a day off, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. You know, you really should do something about that rash. It doesn't look - well - hygienic."
"Thanks, Cesc."
"I'm sorry. But - I can go call the doctor for you, if you want?"
"No, don't worry about it. . . Oh, actually, Cesc - there is something you can do for me."
"What?"
"Don't look so worried, it's harmless. You still have that itching powder, right?"
". . . I thought you said 'harmless'?"
"Here's the key to my room. I think you'll find Fernando's clean underwear on his bed."
"What?"
"Come on, Cesc. You can't say no to a man with a rash like this, can you?"
"I don't feel that sorry for you."
"What if I told you that Fernando laughs at you behind your back because you cried after watching the last Pirates Of The Caribbean movie?"
". . . What number is your room?"
* * * * *
"Hey, Sergio, can you pass me my underwear?"
"Sure, Nando!"
"Thanks - uh, why are you smiling like that?"
"Oh, it's a lovely day, that's all!"
"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess."
"In fact, I know a perfect way that we could spend this lovely day. . . Together. . ."
"Sergio - no offence or anything, but I really don't want to be fucking a man whose face resembles a burnt tomato."
". . . Fine. I'll go hang out with Cesc, then. He left his itching powder here, anyway."
"Fine, go then, I'll just - wait a minute. Why is his itching powder here?"
"You know, I have no idea. None whatsoever."
"Are you sure you - man, this underwear is itchy. . ."
"Really, how odd, must dash, bye!"
"AH-FUCK-MY-ASS!"
"I thought you said you didn't want me to?"
"AH!"
"Bye Nando!"
"Sergio! SERGIO! OWW!"
Characters: Sergio Ramos / Fernando Torres, Xabi Alonso, Cesc Fàbregas.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some language and sexual references.
Disclaimer: You'd have to be smoking an intense amount of crack to think that this is real.
Inspired by: drbillbongo 's fabulous icon and cleverly-disguised plotbunny. ♥
Notes: I don't even know what to say. :/ I wrote this when Aragonés was still the manager of La Selección, so, uh, yeah.
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.
"Sergio, come here!"
"You don't look too good, man."
"Oh, no, I'm great. In fact - I have a cunning plan."
". . . Xabi? Have you been drinking?"
"No! Why do you always ask me that?"
"I don't. I only ask you that when you come to training smelling like vodka."
"I don't smell like vodka. . . It's tequila."
"Jesus, I'm sorry I can't tell apart the different alcohols on your breath."
"I'm not Jesus."
"You could have fooled me."
"Really?"
"No."
"How come you never smell like alcohol?"
"Hmm, let me think about that. It might be three kinds of strong-smelling product in my hair. Or it might be because I don't drink whenever I pass the mini-bar in my hotel room."
"Three? Woah."
"There is a reason why my hair is infinitely better than yours."
"Oh yeah, what's that?"
". . . I'm God."
"Woah. . . Really?"
"Yes. And I order you to go to your hotel room and brush your fucking teeth, your breath is gross."
"Hey, I don't think God swears like that."
"Damn, you've caught me."
"Haha! I'm so smart!"
"You're so drunk."
"Can we talk about my plan now?"
"Xabi, the last time you came up with a plan, Fernando and I ended up trying to get the image of a half-naked Aragonés out of our heads. Oh shit, I just remembered it again."
"My plan is better this time. We'll be guaranteed to have a day off tomorrow!"
"I really don't know if I want to be listening to this."
"Do you want to train in forty-degree heat or not?"
"Well, my hair doesn't."
"Your hair told you that?"
"That's it. There is no way I'm listening to somebody who thinks my hair can talk."
"No, you have to listen! It's a great plan: we put itching powder in Aragonés' clothes!"
". . . That was your last plan."
"Oh, was it?"
"Yes. And it failed. Miserably. I believe that was the reason why you started drinking."
"I don't get why you're so obsessed with my drinking."
"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's the fact that you're shoving your tequila breath in my face?!"
"Oh, sorry. But I really think my plan will work this time. Just, you know - avoid his bathroom."
"Yeah, because I totally plan on going there again."
"You do? Are you crazy?"
"No. I'm one sarcastic motherfucker."
* * * * *
"Fernando José Torres Sanz!"
"Sergio Ramos García!"
"Nah, doesn't have the same ring to it."
"Damn."
"Will you get off that fucking Playstation? The laundry's coming in soon, we have to grab Aragonés' training kit!"
". . . Have you been drinking?"
"What? No!"
"You smell like tequila."
"Eurgh, Xabi was all over me before."
"He what? Oh, I am going to kill that son of a -"
"Nando, calm down. There is no way I would let that walking liquor-store near me - in that way."
"I should think not. It's not like he's any good, anyway."
"He what now?!"
". . . What are the chances of you forgetting what I just said?"
"Slim to none."
"Can you pretend?"
"If by 'pretend' you mean 'wait until later to punish you', then yes, I suppose I can."
"By 'punish' do you mean 'punish me with hot hate sex'?"
"If you're willing to help me with Xabi's plan."
"Sergio, his last plan -"
"I know. Do you still have that itching powder we used?"
"Yes, because I carry itching powder everywhere I travel."
"Hey, I'm the sarcastic one in this relationship."
"No, you're supposed to be the ditzy one. I bring the cattiness, you bring the conditioner."
"Well, who brings the itching powder?"
". . . Cesc?"
* * * * *
"Hey, Cesc - over here."
"Why are you whispering, Fernando?"
"Shh, not so loud! I don't want the boss to hear us."
"Why not?"
"Because whenever he sees two players talking, he automatically thinks that they're conspiring against him."
"And we're not?"
"Well, we are, actually. Do you have itching powder?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
"You do?"
"Yeah, last time we had a national team meet, Villa kept on teasing me because I phone my mother every night before I go to sleep."
". . . Cesc, that is a little sad."
"Don't you start too! I swore that the next person who made fun of me would be severely punished. So I brought itching powder."
"Isn't that a little harsh?"
"Aren't you the one who wants to use it on Aragonés?"
"Okay, yeah, good point. Can I?"
". . . What's in it for me?"
"What's in it for you? We get to miss training for at least one day, that's what's in it for you!"
"But I like training!"
"Stop pouting, you look a constipated fish."
"Well, you're not going to convince me that way."
"Okay, I'm sorry. It's just that the weather's going to be scorching tomorrow, and we'd all just rather have a day off."
"I wouldn't."
"Look, am I going to have to wrestle you for that itching powder? I'm not leaving you alone until I get it."
"Fine by me. I could use an audience, anyway. I'm giving a speech at this Arsenal dinner next week and I have to rehearse it."
"Uh, I really don't want to -"
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, it gives me great pleasure to introduce a man who has long been an irreplaceable member of the Arsenal family -"
"The Arsenal family?"
"A man who has risen above his critics to become one of the best in his field -"
"Geez, suck-up much, Cesc?"
"A man without whose talents Arsenal would not be the club it is today -"
"Yeah, a sucky club of suck!"
"Put your hands together for Manuel Almunia!"
". . . That whole thing was about Almunia?"
"It's his birthday on Tuesday. We're having a party. With karaoke!"
* * * * *
"Sergio! Did it work?"
"I am never speaking to you again, Xabi."
"Woah, what happened to your face?"
"Your fucking brilliant plan is what happened to it!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Fernando, the genius, got my kit mixed up with Aragonés' kit! So I ended up with itching powder all over me!"
"Fernando's not a genius."
"Neither are you, apparently."
"Oh, but I am! I come up with cunning plans!"
"Well, have you got a cunning plan to get rid of this rash?"
"Sergio - I can't just think of a plan. I have to wait for it to come to my head."
"Well, you don't have to wait for my fist to come to your -"
"Woah, woah, what are you doing? Are you crazy?"
"No, I'm just very, very itchy!"
"That's no reason to go around punching people! I didn't make you itchy. Fernando did."
"But I can't punch him."
"Why not? . . .Will he cry?"
"Because then he'll never have sex with me."
"You have a big ugly rash on your face. I don't think he'll have sex with you anyway."
". . . I would advise you not to speak any more, if you wish to keep your face free of my fist."
"Ooh, great alliteration there."
"Okay, I'm counting to ten. One, two -"
"I think you should see a doctor, Sergio. For that rash."
"Five, six -"
"And maybe for the anger management problems."
"I didn't have fucking anger management problems until I met you and your alcohol-fuelled plans!"
"Sergio, now you're making no sense. . . My plans didn't have the alcohol, I did."
". . . You know what would make me feel a lot better, Xabi?"
"Oh, what?"
"If you could go over to Aragonés, and tell him nice and quietly - you know, whisper, I don't want everyone hearing - that I may need some medical attention."
"Oh, sure!"
"Make sure you come really close to him and whisper right up against his face. Really close."
"Yeah, of course. I mean, you look like enough of an idiot, I understand that you don't want to draw any more attention to your big ugly rash of doom."
". . . Thanks, Xabi. You're a pal."
* * * * *
"Did you hear, Sergio?"
"What, Cesc?"
"Training's been cancelled."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, Aragonés smelt alcohol on Xabi's breath and totally flipped out! And then he said training would be cancelled while he tried to figure out some way to punish Xabi."
"You know, I had no idea. None whatsoever. Looks like we have a day off, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. You know, you really should do something about that rash. It doesn't look - well - hygienic."
"Thanks, Cesc."
"I'm sorry. But - I can go call the doctor for you, if you want?"
"No, don't worry about it. . . Oh, actually, Cesc - there is something you can do for me."
"What?"
"Don't look so worried, it's harmless. You still have that itching powder, right?"
". . . I thought you said 'harmless'?"
"Here's the key to my room. I think you'll find Fernando's clean underwear on his bed."
"What?"
"Come on, Cesc. You can't say no to a man with a rash like this, can you?"
"I don't feel that sorry for you."
"What if I told you that Fernando laughs at you behind your back because you cried after watching the last Pirates Of The Caribbean movie?"
". . . What number is your room?"
* * * * *
"Hey, Sergio, can you pass me my underwear?"
"Sure, Nando!"
"Thanks - uh, why are you smiling like that?"
"Oh, it's a lovely day, that's all!"
"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess."
"In fact, I know a perfect way that we could spend this lovely day. . . Together. . ."
"Sergio - no offence or anything, but I really don't want to be fucking a man whose face resembles a burnt tomato."
". . . Fine. I'll go hang out with Cesc, then. He left his itching powder here, anyway."
"Fine, go then, I'll just - wait a minute. Why is his itching powder here?"
"You know, I have no idea. None whatsoever."
"Are you sure you - man, this underwear is itchy. . ."
"Really, how odd, must dash, bye!"
"AH-FUCK-MY-ASS!"
"I thought you said you didn't want me to?"
"AH!"
"Bye Nando!"
"Sergio! SERGIO! OWW!"