of thugettes and nerd babies

[curvasud]

Title: Of Thugettes and Nerd Babies
Authors: cannonsburn & curvasud
Rating: PG
Pairing: Iker Casillas/Xabi Alonso
Disclaimer: Fiction. Really, really fiction. Crack fiction.
Summary: High school AU - gay parenting is a life skill, right?

When Xabi scrolled down the list of offered elective courses at the end of last semester and saw "Life Skills", he immediately signed up for it, and talked most of his friends into enrolling too. He was a practical man and it was obviously very important to have life skills. Why the school considered it "elective" was beyond his understanding, but then he thought about Pique and how he seemed determined to do nothing but the least possible amount of work, and thought, casually - well, maybe some people elect to fail at life.

---

He regrets it, of course.

As soon as their teacher walks in with a carton of eggs, he knows he has made a big mistake.

"Oh good," Iker says, as he slides into his seat next to Xabi. "I was running late and I skipped breakfast. I'm starving." He looks around. "Where are we supposed to cook them?"

Xabi stares at him. "What makes you think we're going to cook eggs in a class called Life Skills?"

Iker blinks at him, nonplussed. "Eating is a kind of life skill."

"One I hope you already possess," Xabi chides. "Now be quiet; we're about to find out what we're actually supposed to do with them."

As it happens, Señor Del Bosque only says, "Can any one guess what you'll be doing with these eggs?"

"Eating!" Iker shouts. Xabi tries to mask his facepalm reflex with slight cough.

"Juggling!" Santi says.

In the back of the classroom - "where the cool kids sit," Cesc once told him - Sergio volunteers, "Hatching them!" just as Cesc calls out, "Sitting on them!" They look at each other for a moment, break out identical shit-eating grins, and make a complicated hand-slapping-gesture-wiggle-shake thing that Xabi has started to define as a ridiculous statement of pride and accomplishment.

"Breed them," Fernando says, sounding bored.

"Hey," Sergio calls out angrily. "That's what I just said!"

Fernando turns his head to face Sergio. "It's not the same," he snaps. "Why don't you look up the word 'breed,' Ramos?"

"I know what it means," Sergio says. "You can't breed them without hatching them first, can you?"

He gives Fernando a smug look that only deepens as Cesc lets out a loud, "Ha!"

Xabi rolls his eyes. The two of them together are horrible. He raises his hand. "Sir, will you please just tell us?" He knows he's pleading a little bit, but he doesn't think he can take any more of his classmates' "educated guesses." He really doesn't think it can get any worse.

So of course it does.

He spends the next ten minutes listening in abject horror as Del Bosque explains what they are supposed to do with the eggs: they are all going to be put into pairs - "Your seating partner will do," and Xabi tries not to groan as he sneaks a glance at Iker - and each pair will be given an egg. They are supposed to treat the egg as if it is a baby.

David Villa's hand shoots into the air. "Don't they give us dolls usually?" he asks, casting a reluctant look at the eggs behind Del Bosque. "I mean, how are we supposed to be graded on an egg?"

"Don't eat it for one," Reina calls out, and ducks his head as Iker whips a pencil at him.

Before Del Bosque can answer, Cesc catches everyone's attention by saying in his outdoor voice, "The egg" - a pause for dramatic effect - "is a metaphor."

"For wh-"

Cesc silences Sergio with a look. "It is," he continues pompously, "of course, a metaphor for life. Life! The circle of life - or, um, the oval...of life. And it moves us all! Through despair and hope. Through faith and love! 'Til we find our place on the path unwinding. In the -"

Xabi suddenly remembers that Cesc is also taking Drama as an elective, and his suspicions are confirmed when Fernando interrupts scathingly, "Wrong class, Cesc, we are not rehearsing The Lion King right now."

"Thank you, Señor Fàbregas, for that moving performance," Del Bosque deadpans. "In truth, last year's Life Skills class had a little too much fun raising their beloved children, so the dolls are out of commission and will not be replaced in time for this unit. I bought your offsprings from the farmer's market earlier this week. But never fear, gentlemen! The eggs will fulfil the assignment just fine for all intents and purposes. Now line up with your partner, everyone, and prepare for a double ceremony of holy matrimony and the birth of your first son or daughter."

"Come on, Alonso," Iker says, as he lines up behind Cesc and Sergio, who are the first ones out of their seats.

"Our egg should be a boy," Cesc says excitedly. "I've always wanted a son."

"But a little girl would be so adorable," Sergio says, sounding dismal.

"We can have a girl the second time around," Cesc offers, patting Sergio on the arm. "This way she can have a big brother, see? To protect her from all the thug egg children." He turns around then. "Like their egg. Will probably be one of those eggs."

Xabi raises an eyebrow but before he can say anything, Cesc adds, "Oh, not because of you. It's your...er, life partner. He's a..." He pauses for dramatic effect. "He's a bad egg!" He lets out a cackle and Sergio giggles while avoiding Iker's eyes.

"You two should keep an eye on your egg at all times," Iker says calmly. "Wouldn't want someone to accidentally step on it now, would we?"

Cesc gasps while Sergio flaps his hands, looking scandalised. "How dare you, sir," Sergio says indignantly and then steers Cesc forward. "Don't listen to him," Xabi hears him whisper. "It'll be over my dead body before I let anything harm our little boy."

"We'll be extra careful," Cesc whispers back just as Del Bosque pulls out the first egg.

"Ah, the Señors Fàbregas and Ramos. I trust you'll at least attempt to take the assignment seriously?" Cesc nods and holds out his hand eagerly to receive his egg. "Congratulations! You're parents."

"Oh!" Cesc cradles the egg to his chest. He and Sergio move off to the side and hover over the off-white blankness of their pretend-child. "He's beautiful."

Iker lets out a sound of disgust and even though they're already out of the way, he purposely jostles Cesc, who glares at him. "Come on, Sergio," he says, "let's go discuss what to name our new bundle of joy."

Xabi turns to Del Bosque, who looks like he already knows what Xabi is thinking.

"Yes, Señor Alonso? I'm sure you have something to say about this project," he says, handing an egg to Iker.

"Do we have to do it in pairs?" Xabi asks, glancing over to Iker who is inspecting their egg, looking disdainful. "How are you grading us on this? Individually or as a pair? Because one of us might be better at babysitting this egg -"

"Better at parenting," Del Bosque corrects.

Xabi pauses. "Right. Okay, one of us might be better at parenting than the other, and it isn't fair that one person's grade should suffer because..." He trails off and looks over at Iker again. "Because the other person may not be adequate."

"You don't trust Señor Casillas?" Del Bosque asks calmly.

Xabi leans in towards him. "I'm afraid he might eat it."

"I am not deaf, Xabi," Iker says loudly. "I will have you know that I will be a great father to Omelet." He lifts the egg up slightly and grins at it. "We will make it our mission to terrorise that freak child of Sergio and Cesc's, right, Omelet?" He looks at Xabi and beams. "See? We're already bonding."

Xabi stares at him in disbelief as he walks back to their desk. "You can't name it Omelet," he says incredulously. Oh god, they are going to fail - he just knows it.

"If Shakespeare can name his son Hamnet and his most successful character Hamlet, I think we can name our egg-baby Omelet, thank you very much," Iker replies. Xabi offers no comment in return, if only because he is momentarily stunned by Iker's secret literary-referencing ability.

"Señor Alonso has raised a valid concern," Del Bosque says as he continues to hand out eggs to the rest of their bonded classmates. "I must emphasise that this assignment isn't just about parenting the egg, but that it is also about the decisions you and your partner will have to make together as parents. Some of you have already begun to ponder the basic questions - the gender of your child, the name, even the company he or she will or will not be allowed to keep! Soon, you may find yourself considering all sorts of parenting choices - education! Morality! The fine line between..."

Xabi is trying to take notes, copying down Del Bosque's entire lecture as he usually does, but he is distracted when Fernando, who is last in line, says to his partner Villa, "Seriously, it's an egg. No one is going to ask it about the meaning of life or why good necessarily triumphs over evil."

Villa and a few boys near them snigger. By the time Xabi can hear Del Bosque properly again, he is already wrapping up with, "...so! Your report on your partnership will be as important to your overall grade as the condition of your egg when you return it in one week on presentation day." When Fernando and Villa approach him to collect the last of the eggs, Del Bosque smiles widely and gives them one each to hold. "The lucky parents of twins! Gentlemen, good luck."

Xabi can tell that Fernando wants to protest, but Villa is already shepherding their little family back to their seats. "Just be quiet," he hears as they pass, "he's getting back at us for your comment."

They spend the rest of the period reading aloud excerpts from Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Dad. Then the bell rings and as the class starts shuffling out, Del Bosque calls out to them to figure out who has their egg for the next period. "It's best if you figure out a schedule as soon as possible!"

Xabi turns to Iker, prepared to take care of their egg - Omelet. Jesus - for the rest of the day, but Iker simply says, "I'll take care of Omelet," and whisks it away without another word.

Xabi is so surprised that he just stands there, gaping, and he ends ups being the last one out of the classroom. He's right behind Fernando and Villa, who are arguing about whether their twins should be boys or girls. Xabi briefly wonders if he should point out they can have one of each, but Iker is being suspiciously gung-ho about this project so he decides he has his own problems.

In fact, he is so preoccupied with pondering Iker's mysterious parenting enthusiasm that he only ducks into Literature class just before the late bell rings. His usual seat is taken and the only one left is beside Cesc and Sergio's in the back of the room. Xabi grimaces and considers asking someone to trade, but uncomfortable to keep their teacher waiting any longer, he sits and simply angles his body away from the Ramoses. (He only calls them that in his mind nowadays because Cesc had accused him of emasculation the last time he had said it within their earshot. Notably, Sergio hadn't protested.)

Señor Mourinho instructs them to pull out the Neruda photocopies as he begins to give details of the poet's life. Xabi immediately tries to give the lecture his attention, carefully going between his in-class notes and the colour-coded highlights he had made last night, but when he has a moment to rest his pen, he finds himself thinking of Iker and Omelet again. Literature is one of Xabi's favourite subjects and he is enjoying the poetry unit more than any of his other coursework right now, but he can't help wondering if Omelet has been made an actual omelette yet. Surely Iker will not have access to a skillet in - what class does he have again? Physical education? Xabi tries to contain a gasp and realises he must have failed when Cesc shoots him a curious look. Xabi ignores him and commands his brain to focus on Mourinho's words. His mind's eye sees none of Neruda's imagery, however, and only replays - in high definition - scenes of Iker playing football with Omelet as the ball, of Iker jogging with Omelet under the soles of his cleats, of Iker passing Omelet in the air between his buddies. Xabi shudders.

He feels a poke on his shoulder and he turns to the Ramoses just to frown at them. Mourinho doesn't take too kindly to people talking during his lecture, and anyway, Xabi doesn't want to talk to them.

"Have you named your thug spawn yet?" Sergio whispers. He gestures at his own egg that is nestled in a make shift cardboard box. Xabi figures it's no use trying to figure out where they had gotten the time to find a box for it in between classes. "This is Eggbert Ramos Fàbregas."

"Fàbregas Ramos," Cesc hisses.

Sergio waves a hand dismissively at him. "What about your egg?" He tries to peer over Xabi's shoulder. "Where's your child?"

Xabi stiffens slightly. "Iker has him." He pauses. "Or her."

Cesc looks appalled. "You don't even know the gender of your baby?"

"You let Iker take it?" Sergio says at the same time.

A shadow falls over them and Xabi wants to die when he sees it's Mourinho.

"Señors, I apologise for interrupting your little fete over here. It was rude of me to be reading Neruda's poetry to you when this is clearly more important." Mourinho glances at Xabi. "Señor Alonso, I am surprised. Surely whatever Señors Fàbregas and Ramos have to say isn't all that enthralling."

"No," Xabi mumbles. "Sorry, Señor Mourinho."

Mourinho frowns. "I can't help but notice that there are a number of eggs in my classroom today. Would anyone care to explain why?"

"It's for our Life Skills class," Sergio answers.

"Life Skills?" Mourinho repeats maliciously. "I wasn't aware that one needed lessons on how to live, but I suppose there's a class for everything these days."

Pique laughs from the front of the class, and Mourinho glares at him. "Señor Pique, I'm sure you are not laughing at your classmates when you are failing your woodshop class."

Xabi hears Pique mumble, "Glue guns are trickier than most people think," but Mourinho has already ignored him in favour of sneering at the visible egg-children on several desks.

"Well?" he prompts, looking even more threatening than usual. "What sort of life skill requires your chicken shrines to take over my class?"

"We're parenting," Cesc answers, beaming.

"We can't let the newborns out of our sights," Sergio adds - and then lets out a shrill scream when Mourinho quickly plucks Eggbert from his cardboard crib. "No!" he yelps, just as Cesc cries, "Please, take me instead - just don't hurt our baby!"

Xabi cringes, embarrassed by his fellow Life Skills classmates' antics, but he notices that his heart is racing too. If Mourinho were holding Omelet in Eggbert's place... Xabi swallows around the lump in his throat and is suddenly glad that Iker has their egg during this period.

Mourinho tosses Eggbert up and Xabi feels his stomach drop, even as he catches it safely. "You may collect your egg from me at the end of class," he says, as he goes back to the front of the classroom, taking Santi's egg on his way too.

Xabi hears Sergio whimpering and Cesc mumbling about kidnapping charges, but after Mourinho asks if they have any complaints, they become silent.

After Literature, the two of them hurriedly retrieve Eggbert and Xabi rolls his eyes when Cesc starts cooing at it.

He grabs his books, determined to hunt down Iker and make sure he hasn't already fried Omelet or dropped him (or her) on the ground. Xabi bumps into him outside of the classroom, however, and Iker is scowling when he turns around.

"Watch it," he growls, gesturing at the egg in his hand.

Xabi is relieved that Omelet is still intact.

"Surprised?" Iker asks catching the look on Xabi's face. He hands the egg over. "Look, no cracks or anything."

Xabi peers down and looks up at Iker, who is beaming at him. "Did you draw a bow on our child?"

"A pink bow. The guys in my phys ed class kept mistaking her for a boy. I thought the bow was a better alternative to hitting the next guy who called her a boy."

Xabi raises an eyebrow. "Omelet is a girl then?"

"Of course she is."

"Shouldn't her name end with an extra T and E at the end then?"

Iker makes a face. "Om-lette? She's not a French hussy."

Xabi lets that comment go, but he can't help asking, "Why are you so - I don't know - enthusiastic about this assignment? I thought you'd hate it."

Iker shrugs and begins shepherding the three of them - god, he is really thinking of an egg as their child now, as if they're collectively a gay, modern, cross-species family - to the canteen for their lunch hour. His hand hovers protectively near Xabi's elbow of the arm that's carrying Omelet, and he glares at anyone who stares at them for a second too long. When Iker opens the cafeteria door and gestures for Xabi to enter first, Xabi wonders if he has to remind Iker that neither of them needs to adopt strict mom-and-dad gender roles in order to be pretend-parents to an egg. But then Iker pulls out his chair eagerly, all gentleman-like, so Xabi settles down and thinks, I'll just save the gender roles stuff for our report, while Iker goes off to get lunch trays for the both of them.

"I guess I'm just good at taking care of kids," Iker finally says, when he comes back with plates and plates of food. "I babysit Unai all the time, and -" he shrugs again, "- I like it."

Xabi is picking at his fries, watching Iker settle Omelet safely in a nest made of tissues, when Fernando and Villa join them. He's horrified when Villa ungracefully shoves one of the eggs near Omelet, and makes no attempt to stop it as it rolls dangerously close to the edge of the table.

"David," Fernando chastises, scooping the egg up and carefully putting it next to its twin. "Be careful, both of them need to survive."

Villa rolls his eyes. "We can just replace him if he dies."

"Her," Fernando corrects. "That was Niña."

"Whatever, I'm getting food."

Fernando scowls. "This may as well be a single parent family. He wants nothing to do with them - he didn't even help name them."

"What's the other one's name?" Iker asks, and Xabi almost chokes. Okay, it is one thing for Iker to be invested in their child, but he doesn't expect that Iker would be interested in the other eggs.

"Niño," Fernando says. He frowns. "I'm not sure which one is which now though." He glances at Omelet. "Maybe I should draw a bow on Niña."

"No," Iker says, snatching Omelet up. "That was our idea. Omelet is a unique individual. Find another way to tell the difference between your eggs."

"Omelet?"

Iker glares at him. "Yes, do you have a problem with her name?"

Cesc hurries over then, holding Eggbert in his hand. "Hello," he says stiffly. He looks over his shoulder and makes a face. "I was wondering if you would babysit Eggbert for awhile."

Xabi looks over at their table and sees Sergio, who looks cross. "Trouble?"

"We cannot seem to agree on Eggbert's last name," Cesc says. He leans closer and whispers, "I don't want Eggbert to see us fighting. It can be very traumatic."

Xabi rolls his eyes but he holds out his hand.

"Oh, look, Omelet, you have a playdate," Iker says to the egg he's holding.

Cesc stares at him, his mouth open. "I see your thug baby is a thugette."

"Yes," Iker says defiantly. "She can kick your nerd baby's butt on the playground too."

Cesc sniffs indignantly before he stomps away.

"I suppose Omelet's last name is going to be Casillas," Xabi says, setting Eggbert in the corner of his tray next to his water. He smirks a little when he sees the little bowtie drawn on him. Omelet would definitely beat up Eggbert on the playground - if they were actual kids.

"Alonso is fine," Iker says, plucking Eggbert up and placing him and Omelet back in their little nest. "I named her, so she can have your last name."

Xabi smiles. Maybe Iker doesn't need a reminder about gendered traditions after all. Glancing between where Fernando and David are ignoring each other and their eggs and where Sergio and Cesc are arguing in increasingly loud voices across the room, Xabi realises he may have actually lucked out with his baby's daddy. He lets out a breath and gently strokes a finger along Omelet's side. The week ahead doesn't seem as long anymore.

---

One week later

"And that concludes our p-presentation!" Cesc says, weeping, after their fifteen-minute photomontage set to a mix of Sarah McLachlan's ballads fade out from the pull-down screen. "We had a b-beautiful, magical week with Eggbert Ramos-Fàbregas, who is truly our angel baby, and wewillneverforgethim!"

Distraught with his own tears, Sergio can't even speak.

Neither can the rest of the class.

Finally, Señor Del Bosque begins a slow clap and a few of the boys join in reluctantly. "Wonderful. Thank you, Señors Fàbregas and Ramos, for taking the initiative to go above and beyond the required five-minute oral report and show us your, er, creative sides. I regret to have to mark you down for it, but rest assured, I am thoroughly moved by the display of your powerful bond with young Eggbert, including those...provocative pictures from your trip to the beach. Now! Do we have any questions for the señors?"

Santi raises his hand. "Why is there a bandaid on Eggbert?"

Cesc blows his nose and gives Sergio a dirty look. "We agreed not to talk about the Accident," he says, sniffling. "I will say that parents are not perfect. We're allowed to make mistakes. We learn from them. We move on."

"Well put, Señor Fàbregas!" says Del Bosque. "Other questions?"

When no one else raises their hands, Del Bosque calls Fernando and Villa up to the front to their presentation.

Xabi feels rather smug at that point. Fernando and Villa are the last pairing, and aside from Santi and Silva's presentation that had been ridiculously cute - almost bordering on disgustingly cute - he and Iker have had the best presentation so far. All that stands between them and the highest marks in the class are Fernando and Villa. Xabi's eyes have zeroed in on a black N on one of the egg's and the other one has a slight crack, so he's sure they have it in the bag.

"Er, this is Niño Torres," Fernando says, holding up the egg in his hand.

"And this is Niña Villa," David says, gesturing to his egg.

Fernando glares at him. "After we had the kids, the stress became too much for us and we decided to separate."

"Our custody arrangement says that the twins get to be together during the weekends, which is what we used lunchtime for."

"So you never took care of Niño?" Silva asks.

"I took care of him for a day," Villa answers. "And Fernando took Niña that day, but the rest of the days, we took care of the eggs separately."

Del Bosque looks perplexed. "Señor Torres, why does Niño have an N on him?"

Villa smirks. "Go on, tell them what it is."

Fernando lifts his chin defiantly. "It's a tattoo."

Xabi has to struggle not to laugh out loud when he hears the Ramoses gasp out loud, and he's amused that even Iker is gaping at them.

"Señors..." Del Bosque looks like he's at a loss for words. "The eggs - they're supposed to represent babies. You can't -"

"I told him that," Villa says smugly. "Just like I told him not to give our children chicken pox! Look at them. They're scarred!"

"They're freckles," Fernando snaps. "And they're endearing."

Villa sneers. "They're not endearing on you."

Fernando turns to Del Bosque. "Do you see what I have to put up with? He was impossible the whole time, and the only solution was to split up the kids." He turns back to Villa and the two of them start to argue.

Del Bosque interrupts them and calls them over to his desk.

"Highest marks in the class," Iker whispers to Xabi, holding out a fist to him.

Xabi grins and bumps his fist against Iker's. His smile softens as he brushes the pad of his thumb over Iker's knuckles and only remembers to pull his hand away when he sees that Iker has smiled back.

By then, Del Bosque has deemed the last presentation finished and sends Fernando and Villa back to their desks, eggless. He stands in front of them all with a basketful of their colourful ex-children and says, "Well."

"Well?" a couple boys echo.

Del Bosque smiles. "That was quite an experience, wasn't it? I hope you found it as rewarding as I always do and as your predecessors do in the previous years. Yes, I'm often told by students - that is, students who come back to visit after starting families of their own - that real babies are nothing like the dolls...or eggs! Nevertheless, they say, the week they spend with a life partner and a baby in my classroom is, for whatever reasons, a week they'll never forget. Gentlemen, it is my sincerest wish that you find at least one such memory to take away from this assignment too. Ah, the bell! See you next week."

Most of the boys filter out of the classroom to attend their next period, although, as Xabi lingers by the doorway to wait for Iker, he sees Sergio and Cesc approach Del Bosque's basket for one last goodbye to Eggbert.

"Makes you want to see Omelet?" Iker teases with a soft touch to Xabi's arm.

"You?" Xabi asks, walking out into the hall.

"I asked you first."

"Maybe a little," Xabi admits, blushing. "But it's not my fault! You had to go and name her and make her all cute. Of course I'd get slightly attached."

"Yeah, slightly," Iker says. He touches Xabi's shoulder. "I miss her too. I don't think I'll ever be able to eat eggs again. It would be like…cannibalism."

Xabi laughs. "No, not really. But I know what you mean." He stops in front of Mourinho's classroom and realises that Iker has just walked him there and, as a result, has gone in the opposite direction of the football field. He wonders if Iker has noticed. "So..."

"So," Iker agrees. Then he starts speaking to his shoes: "Actually, listen - mamá asked me to babysit Unai this weekend. Do you maybe want to come over and help? It would be like Omelet again, except, you know, he can move around and speak and piss and stuff. I mean, he can be kind of annoying, you know how brothers are, always following me around and stuff, but he's cool too, so. If you want. If you don't want, that's okay, and maybe we can do something else some other time, like, not eat eggs. Or play footy, yeah, that's a normal pastime. But, um -"

"I'd love to."

"Yeah?" Iker says, finally looking up and meeting Xabi's eyes. "Which part?"

"Yes. I mean, all of it."

"Okay." Hesitating, Iker reaches out to touch Xabi's wrist and Xabi, feeling his heart racing again - and how full-circle is that? - meets him halfway. "Okay, then. I'll see you -"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" The two of them spring apart as Mourinho glares at them from his doorway. "Señor Alonso, am I allowed to begin class any time soon or should I let you teach Schoolboy Homoeroticism today? No? Get inside and sit down. Señor Casillas, I'll see you this afternoon. We still need to discuss how your paper on 'Kubla Khan' degenerated into a rant about Coleridge's alleged affair with Lord Byron, although now I suppose I see where you get your inspiration. Dismissed."

Bye, Iker waves to Xabi shyly.