the summer sequel
Part of the The Motion Picture universe.
Title: The Summer Sequel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cesc Fàbregas/Robin van Persie
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Summary:
Of course, Robin found him sulking on the edge of the Emirates Stadium, sunset-cape billowing in the north London wind. He was wearing his Arsenal kit instead of the glam-red bodysuit though, and, maskless, scowled when Robin dropped to his side, bumping their knees together gently.
"How did you get up here?"
"Cesc, I used the stairs. You don't have to fly everywhere just because you can, you know." But he couldn't hide the fond indulgence in his voice or keep the teasing smile from his face, and Cesc must have noticed how utterly, stupidly besotted he was, too, because he didn't sound as indignant as he probably meant to:
"You would if you had a cape." A few beats passed, intentional, dramatic, before he added, "You can have this one, if you want. This is the last time I need it. Any of it."
Robin could point out that wrapping a bit of cloth around his neck wouldn't actually help him fly-that Cesc's powers were rare, a gift, whether from God or nature, his mum or a radioactive spider-but all he said was, "So that's it, then? You're giving up?"
"What am I giving up, exactly?" Cesc said, petulant. "Playing poorly because I'm so tired from spending all night out chasing zombie referees and disguised robotic Coca-Cola Leaguers? Making excuses to the gaffer for disappearing from training and being a completely shite skipper? Lying to my friends and family because I can't risk putting their lives in danger-like I just did yours? Damn it, Robin, I nearly lost y-I can't-" He took a deep breath. "Oh! And wearing my pants on the outside. I'll just hate giving that up, won't I?"
Robin bit his lip. "Cesc, you chose Super Catalan's costume; you didn't have to wear your pants over the tights." Cesc glared, and Robin was glad uncontrollable laser beam eyes were not among his immediate abilities.
"Yes, well, we won't have to worry about that anymore." Cesc's fingers trembled, fiddling with the golden clasp of his cape, as he concluded, quiet and melancholy, "No more Super Catalan."
"Cesc," Robin said, "silly boy, come here." And he bundled Cesc into his arms anyway, allowing the red and yellow stripes to swirl around them, oasis in a small storm. "Listen to me," he murmured, cool lips brushing the soft hair at Cesc's neck, "what happened with the Manchester mutants wasn't your fault. With Adebayor-you have to remember he's not our Ade any longer; there's another being occupying his body. But we're all fine, aren't we? I'm fine. You were brilliant; you saved us."
"I did not."
Robin smiled and squeezed him a little tighter. "You did too. Didn't you hear Denilson after the mutants were driven away? All he could speak of was Super Catalan!"
"Really? Good things?"
"The best," Robin confirmed. "This world needs heroes, Cesc; it needs Super Catalan-needs you to be who you are and who you were always meant to be. I know you need it too."
They held each other in comfortable silence for some time, for reacceptance of one destiny and for realisation of another. Cesc pulled back to show Robin a determined nod, then leaned forward again to kiss his lips, warmer now, but at contact still sent shivers down his spine.
"I'll have to keep my cape then," Cesc whispered against his mouth, licking into it sweetly, "but you don't have to take the stairs."
Title: The Summer Sequel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cesc Fàbregas/Robin van Persie
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Summary:
Of course, Robin found him sulking on the edge of the Emirates Stadium, sunset-cape billowing in the north London wind. He was wearing his Arsenal kit instead of the glam-red bodysuit though, and, maskless, scowled when Robin dropped to his side, bumping their knees together gently.
"How did you get up here?"
"Cesc, I used the stairs. You don't have to fly everywhere just because you can, you know." But he couldn't hide the fond indulgence in his voice or keep the teasing smile from his face, and Cesc must have noticed how utterly, stupidly besotted he was, too, because he didn't sound as indignant as he probably meant to:
"You would if you had a cape." A few beats passed, intentional, dramatic, before he added, "You can have this one, if you want. This is the last time I need it. Any of it."
Robin could point out that wrapping a bit of cloth around his neck wouldn't actually help him fly-that Cesc's powers were rare, a gift, whether from God or nature, his mum or a radioactive spider-but all he said was, "So that's it, then? You're giving up?"
"What am I giving up, exactly?" Cesc said, petulant. "Playing poorly because I'm so tired from spending all night out chasing zombie referees and disguised robotic Coca-Cola Leaguers? Making excuses to the gaffer for disappearing from training and being a completely shite skipper? Lying to my friends and family because I can't risk putting their lives in danger-like I just did yours? Damn it, Robin, I nearly lost y-I can't-" He took a deep breath. "Oh! And wearing my pants on the outside. I'll just hate giving that up, won't I?"
Robin bit his lip. "Cesc, you chose Super Catalan's costume; you didn't have to wear your pants over the tights." Cesc glared, and Robin was glad uncontrollable laser beam eyes were not among his immediate abilities.
"Yes, well, we won't have to worry about that anymore." Cesc's fingers trembled, fiddling with the golden clasp of his cape, as he concluded, quiet and melancholy, "No more Super Catalan."
"Cesc," Robin said, "silly boy, come here." And he bundled Cesc into his arms anyway, allowing the red and yellow stripes to swirl around them, oasis in a small storm. "Listen to me," he murmured, cool lips brushing the soft hair at Cesc's neck, "what happened with the Manchester mutants wasn't your fault. With Adebayor-you have to remember he's not our Ade any longer; there's another being occupying his body. But we're all fine, aren't we? I'm fine. You were brilliant; you saved us."
"I did not."
Robin smiled and squeezed him a little tighter. "You did too. Didn't you hear Denilson after the mutants were driven away? All he could speak of was Super Catalan!"
"Really? Good things?"
"The best," Robin confirmed. "This world needs heroes, Cesc; it needs Super Catalan-needs you to be who you are and who you were always meant to be. I know you need it too."
They held each other in comfortable silence for some time, for reacceptance of one destiny and for realisation of another. Cesc pulled back to show Robin a determined nod, then leaned forward again to kiss his lips, warmer now, but at contact still sent shivers down his spine.
"I'll have to keep my cape then," Cesc whispered against his mouth, licking into it sweetly, "but you don't have to take the stairs."