maybe he ain't lying
Title: Maybe He Ain't Lying
Rating: R
Pairing: Sergio Ramos / Fernando Torres (Kaká / Shevchenko)
Words: 1871
Disclaimer: We'll never know.
A/N: Random, stupid, and boring. I hate it, so feel free to to hate it too. For baronessbadger
“What if we were all gay?”
It settles in the air for a moment, only because it takes a while for Fernando to register. And when it does he jolts back to life and nearly knocks over his beer can.
“W-What? How did you even think of that?!” he practically squeals, more so of being nervous and that of being tipsy.
Sergio mindlessly saves Fernando's drink from the corner of the table and plants it on one of Fernando's cards he's now abandoned. The game is practically over now.
“What do you mean? It just came to me, like everything else does.” he says, with a smirk of amusement at Fernando's face.
The striker snorts and roll his eyes. “In the middle of another conversation? How did it come to you? We were talking about Mori. Not drag queens.”
“Yeah, well, same..thing...” Sergio trails before slowly realizing what he's just admitted.
Fernando expression falls. “...W-What?”
“Are we still playing?” Sergio tries to change the subject, even starts a new shuffle of cards.
“..Sergio..” Fernando begins. “...Do you..-”
“No.”
“..B-Bu-”
“It's nothing. Forget it. Do you want to go and watch that movie now? You've beaten me twice in this stupid game.”
.
Sergio regrets moving them both to the couch, because Fernando can't stop glancing at him and they've drunken entirely too much. The TV is blur of colors in the dark and the room is spinning a little. He'll have to keep in mind that drinking with a stomach full of nerves is no good. And apparently, Fernando will have to do the same.
“What did you mean. Tell me. I won't say anything.” he finally mumbles, voice soaked with ease but slow now that he's intoxicated.
Sergio sighs. They're both staring at the TV, which he's finds is a good thing. Although he doesn't know why. It really isn't his secret. It shouldn't scare him.
“You kinda already have an idea, do you?” he says, instead. Maybe he won't have to actually say it.
Fernando huffs. “I'm not sure.” Sergio knows he's frowning then.
“Connect the dots, Fer.”
The silence Sergio receives almost sounds as if he is, but- “Mori's a drag queen?”
Sergio would have laughed if it possibly didn't make him puke afterwords. He turns and looks at him frowning.
“Nooo.” he drags out. “'Mori's gay.”
Fernando's face surprisingly doesn't change. “oh.”
Sergio slumps further down the sofa. “Yeah.”
There's a few beats between them until Fernando shifts. “Who else?”
Sergio immediately stiffens. “..What?”
The lamp turns on and Sergio sits up when he feels a pair of eyes boring at him.
Fernando's face is blank but knowingly suspicious. He doesn't even look drunk anymore.
“Who else? I know there's more.” he says.
“If there were, why does it matter?”
“Because you started this and now you have to finish it.”
Sergio groans. “You're fucking nosy.”
“Like you're any better.” Fernando playfully kicks his bare foot in the process. Sergio rolls his eyes and Fernando says, “Just tell me. I'll tell you what I know.”
Sergio eyes beams. “You know something?”
Fernando weakly shrugs. “I don't know. Who else is gay, Sergio? Maybe I'll remember.”
Sergio snorts as he turns to fully face Fernando, indian style, on the sofa. “Alright.” he says, hoping that the excuse for being drunk will save his ass later on. He knows it's very slim considering all the dirt he has sold on people.
He gains energy from Fernando's anticipated expression. “Okay, so, um. The reason I knew Mori was gay because Raúl slipped up and told me.”
“How did he know?” Fernando innocently asks.
“Because.” Sergio starts. “They've fucked before.”
Fernando eyes comically widen and Sergio enjoys it so much that he just lets everything run wild from within.
“-Rubén, Santi, Guti, Figo, Gago, Luis García, Cristiano Ronaldo, Thierry Henry, Fabrégas, Mata, Sneijder, Salgado, Beckham, Higua-”
“Stop. God, stop, Sergio.” Fernando voice croaks. He's got a hand fisted in Sergio's shirt, like it physically pains him to know all this information.
“Well, you wanted to know.” Sergio says.
Fernando frowns. “How do you even know they're all gay? I mean, Guti's fucking married. Henry-”
Sergio shakes his head. “I can't tell how I know but trust me, they are.”
Fernando worriedly bites his lip before reaching for his beer and swallowing whatevers left of it.
“I told you what I know.” Sergio reminds him, poking his side. “Now it's your turn.”
Sergio watches as Fernando's face turns from being shocked to being plain scared. Fernando's eyes flutter a bit and he turns away like he can't bare to look at him.
“It's nobody you know. What's the point in telling you?” he mumbles to the rim of his can.
Sergio frowns disappointingly. “Oh, come on, Fer. I just poured half the bag for you and you can't drop me one name?”
Fernando still doesn't look at him. He shrugs.
Sergio grows a bit agitated and pulls on Fernando's arm until he's facing him. His eyes still don't entirely meet his.
“Is it that bad if you tell me? Do you not trust me?” Sergio's voice lowers and Fernando can't help but look at him then. “Because I've never told anyone about the others but you. Because I-...because you're Fernando. I trust you.”
Fernando stares at him for a while, long enough for Sergio to offer a smile. Then, “Shevchenko.”
Sergio blinks confusingly at him. “..What?”
“Andriy Shevchenko.” Fernando finishes. “I think he's gay.”
Sergio lets go of the involuntary hard grip he had on Fer and tips his head to the side. “You think?”
Fernando nods. “The first Ac Milan game I watch is full of him rubbing up on Kaká every chance he gets.” Then he concludes, “I-It's pretty obvious. I don't think Kaká knows though.”
“If that's all you had then why the fuck were you so hesitant about telling me?” Sergio says, playfully pushing his arm.
Fernando smiles, but it's visibly weak. “I wasn't sure and I didn't want to seem like an idiot for falsely assuming such of the two.”
“You're never an idiot to me.” Sergio laughs as he ruffles up Fernando's hair with both hands. Fernando immediately swats him away.
“You had me a bit anxious there.” Sergio says after Fernando places his hands in his lap for him.
Fernando frowns. “Why?”
“I don't know. I thought you were suddenly going to say your gay or something by the way you were looking.”
It grows silent then. Almost sinking them both until Fernando attempts a snort and turns the lamp off.
“I would never.” And then, “I have Olalla.” he says, and it sounds terribly cheap. They both know it.
After the awkward minutes-fucking years they sat at the couch drinking, they were both in their beds now. But neither of them were asleep.
Sergio decides he's had enough of the tension that's followed them and that it's time to get to the bottom of what's eating at them. He turns on the lamp between the both of their beds and just like that, Fernando is sitting up, like he wanted to do the exact same thing.
“Look, Sergio, I-”
“It wasn't Shevchenko that you had in mind, was it?”
Fernando's entire face drains. “...What?”
“It ..It was someone else.” Sergio says, slurring tonelessly. Watching Fernando's face falter between conflicted emotions. “The way you acted before. That,..I mean, you were talking about someone else but the way you were ...- you were sounding as if something you know could relate.”
Fernando opens and closes his mouth before concluding with a frown. “T-That's ridiculous.” he says, less meekly than he actually wanted.
Sergio stares intently at him. “No. It's about damn right and don't even deny it.”
Fernando looks away from his strong gaze and shakes his head disapprovingly. “No.” he mostly tells himself.
That's when Sergio springs from his bed and towards Fernando's.
“Who told you?”
When Fernando looks back at him he's at his bed on his hands and knees, crawling to him until he's inches from his face, and Fernando has no where to look other than Sergio's hypnotizing chocolate eyes.
“Told me what?” he barely lets out.
Sergio inches closers til' their noses brush against each other, their lips nearly meet when he speaks again. “About me.” And then, “You know.”
Fernando's face heats up, his skin feels foreign, numb almost, fresh from the liquor of Sergio's breath. He breathes short just thinking about it, if he's even thinking. He doesn't know what his mind or heart is doing at the moment, “I don't know what you're talking about.” -or what he's saying at the moment.
“In this case, I would be Shevchenko.” Sergio says, and then, his lips are against his.
It almost burns for how hot they are, but it feels too good to pull away. And Sergio ventures further, pressing firmly against his, until his tongue licks its way inside his mouth. A moan rumbles in Fernando's throat, that would only be swallowed if it tried to escape. His breath shudders across Sergio's face when he feels his warm hands roam under his shirt, and the mere thought of it being there just seems so comfortable, so right. And he knows now, that Sergio has got him all figured out. Just by a look and a kiss, it's already too late to hide.
“I'm the one who rubs against you.” Sergio mumbles against his neck. “And in this case, you're Kaká. But there's something you mistaken about him, about you.”
Fernando closes his eyes when Sergio sucks on his earlobe and plays with the knot of his pajama drawstrings before speaking again.
“The both of you weren't clueless. You already knew.”
He pulls away from his ear to lick at Fernando's parted mouth again, before he breathes out, “It was pretty obvious.”
Fernando could only swallow down the dryness of his denial and let his desires roam freely into his mind.
They were soaked with sweat. Because Sergio fucked him under the blankets. Flat on his stomach and mercilessly against the mattress until the headboard rattling mingled with Fernando's cries within the room. Both their hair stuck to their faces when they were done and they didn't even bother to get from under the covers to cold air. They laid there, sticky and exhausted until sunrise broke through the blankets.
Fernando was the first to speak up. Thick of sleep, “How did a conversation about Fernando Morientes lead to this?”
When Sergio opened his eyes, Fernando's was already on him. He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from Sergio's eye lid. Sergio returned the warming greeting with a kiss to his nose.
He smirked. “Drag queens.”
Rating: R
Pairing: Sergio Ramos / Fernando Torres (Kaká / Shevchenko)
Words: 1871
Disclaimer: We'll never know.
A/N: Random, stupid, and boring. I hate it, so feel free to to hate it too. For baronessbadger
“What if we were all gay?”
It settles in the air for a moment, only because it takes a while for Fernando to register. And when it does he jolts back to life and nearly knocks over his beer can.
“W-What? How did you even think of that?!” he practically squeals, more so of being nervous and that of being tipsy.
Sergio mindlessly saves Fernando's drink from the corner of the table and plants it on one of Fernando's cards he's now abandoned. The game is practically over now.
“What do you mean? It just came to me, like everything else does.” he says, with a smirk of amusement at Fernando's face.
The striker snorts and roll his eyes. “In the middle of another conversation? How did it come to you? We were talking about Mori. Not drag queens.”
“Yeah, well, same..thing...” Sergio trails before slowly realizing what he's just admitted.
Fernando expression falls. “...W-What?”
“Are we still playing?” Sergio tries to change the subject, even starts a new shuffle of cards.
“..Sergio..” Fernando begins. “...Do you..-”
“No.”
“..B-Bu-”
“It's nothing. Forget it. Do you want to go and watch that movie now? You've beaten me twice in this stupid game.”
.
Sergio regrets moving them both to the couch, because Fernando can't stop glancing at him and they've drunken entirely too much. The TV is blur of colors in the dark and the room is spinning a little. He'll have to keep in mind that drinking with a stomach full of nerves is no good. And apparently, Fernando will have to do the same.
“What did you mean. Tell me. I won't say anything.” he finally mumbles, voice soaked with ease but slow now that he's intoxicated.
Sergio sighs. They're both staring at the TV, which he's finds is a good thing. Although he doesn't know why. It really isn't his secret. It shouldn't scare him.
“You kinda already have an idea, do you?” he says, instead. Maybe he won't have to actually say it.
Fernando huffs. “I'm not sure.” Sergio knows he's frowning then.
“Connect the dots, Fer.”
The silence Sergio receives almost sounds as if he is, but- “Mori's a drag queen?”
Sergio would have laughed if it possibly didn't make him puke afterwords. He turns and looks at him frowning.
“Nooo.” he drags out. “'Mori's gay.”
Fernando's face surprisingly doesn't change. “oh.”
Sergio slumps further down the sofa. “Yeah.”
There's a few beats between them until Fernando shifts. “Who else?”
Sergio immediately stiffens. “..What?”
The lamp turns on and Sergio sits up when he feels a pair of eyes boring at him.
Fernando's face is blank but knowingly suspicious. He doesn't even look drunk anymore.
“Who else? I know there's more.” he says.
“If there were, why does it matter?”
“Because you started this and now you have to finish it.”
Sergio groans. “You're fucking nosy.”
“Like you're any better.” Fernando playfully kicks his bare foot in the process. Sergio rolls his eyes and Fernando says, “Just tell me. I'll tell you what I know.”
Sergio eyes beams. “You know something?”
Fernando weakly shrugs. “I don't know. Who else is gay, Sergio? Maybe I'll remember.”
Sergio snorts as he turns to fully face Fernando, indian style, on the sofa. “Alright.” he says, hoping that the excuse for being drunk will save his ass later on. He knows it's very slim considering all the dirt he has sold on people.
He gains energy from Fernando's anticipated expression. “Okay, so, um. The reason I knew Mori was gay because Raúl slipped up and told me.”
“How did he know?” Fernando innocently asks.
“Because.” Sergio starts. “They've fucked before.”
Fernando eyes comically widen and Sergio enjoys it so much that he just lets everything run wild from within.
“-Rubén, Santi, Guti, Figo, Gago, Luis García, Cristiano Ronaldo, Thierry Henry, Fabrégas, Mata, Sneijder, Salgado, Beckham, Higua-”
“Stop. God, stop, Sergio.” Fernando voice croaks. He's got a hand fisted in Sergio's shirt, like it physically pains him to know all this information.
“Well, you wanted to know.” Sergio says.
Fernando frowns. “How do you even know they're all gay? I mean, Guti's fucking married. Henry-”
Sergio shakes his head. “I can't tell how I know but trust me, they are.”
Fernando worriedly bites his lip before reaching for his beer and swallowing whatevers left of it.
“I told you what I know.” Sergio reminds him, poking his side. “Now it's your turn.”
Sergio watches as Fernando's face turns from being shocked to being plain scared. Fernando's eyes flutter a bit and he turns away like he can't bare to look at him.
“It's nobody you know. What's the point in telling you?” he mumbles to the rim of his can.
Sergio frowns disappointingly. “Oh, come on, Fer. I just poured half the bag for you and you can't drop me one name?”
Fernando still doesn't look at him. He shrugs.
Sergio grows a bit agitated and pulls on Fernando's arm until he's facing him. His eyes still don't entirely meet his.
“Is it that bad if you tell me? Do you not trust me?” Sergio's voice lowers and Fernando can't help but look at him then. “Because I've never told anyone about the others but you. Because I-...because you're Fernando. I trust you.”
Fernando stares at him for a while, long enough for Sergio to offer a smile. Then, “Shevchenko.”
Sergio blinks confusingly at him. “..What?”
“Andriy Shevchenko.” Fernando finishes. “I think he's gay.”
Sergio lets go of the involuntary hard grip he had on Fer and tips his head to the side. “You think?”
Fernando nods. “The first Ac Milan game I watch is full of him rubbing up on Kaká every chance he gets.” Then he concludes, “I-It's pretty obvious. I don't think Kaká knows though.”
“If that's all you had then why the fuck were you so hesitant about telling me?” Sergio says, playfully pushing his arm.
Fernando smiles, but it's visibly weak. “I wasn't sure and I didn't want to seem like an idiot for falsely assuming such of the two.”
“You're never an idiot to me.” Sergio laughs as he ruffles up Fernando's hair with both hands. Fernando immediately swats him away.
“You had me a bit anxious there.” Sergio says after Fernando places his hands in his lap for him.
Fernando frowns. “Why?”
“I don't know. I thought you were suddenly going to say your gay or something by the way you were looking.”
It grows silent then. Almost sinking them both until Fernando attempts a snort and turns the lamp off.
“I would never.” And then, “I have Olalla.” he says, and it sounds terribly cheap. They both know it.
After the awkward minutes-fucking years they sat at the couch drinking, they were both in their beds now. But neither of them were asleep.
Sergio decides he's had enough of the tension that's followed them and that it's time to get to the bottom of what's eating at them. He turns on the lamp between the both of their beds and just like that, Fernando is sitting up, like he wanted to do the exact same thing.
“Look, Sergio, I-”
“It wasn't Shevchenko that you had in mind, was it?”
Fernando's entire face drains. “...What?”
“It ..It was someone else.” Sergio says, slurring tonelessly. Watching Fernando's face falter between conflicted emotions. “The way you acted before. That,..I mean, you were talking about someone else but the way you were ...- you were sounding as if something you know could relate.”
Fernando opens and closes his mouth before concluding with a frown. “T-That's ridiculous.” he says, less meekly than he actually wanted.
Sergio stares intently at him. “No. It's about damn right and don't even deny it.”
Fernando looks away from his strong gaze and shakes his head disapprovingly. “No.” he mostly tells himself.
That's when Sergio springs from his bed and towards Fernando's.
“Who told you?”
When Fernando looks back at him he's at his bed on his hands and knees, crawling to him until he's inches from his face, and Fernando has no where to look other than Sergio's hypnotizing chocolate eyes.
“Told me what?” he barely lets out.
Sergio inches closers til' their noses brush against each other, their lips nearly meet when he speaks again. “About me.” And then, “You know.”
Fernando's face heats up, his skin feels foreign, numb almost, fresh from the liquor of Sergio's breath. He breathes short just thinking about it, if he's even thinking. He doesn't know what his mind or heart is doing at the moment, “I don't know what you're talking about.” -or what he's saying at the moment.
“In this case, I would be Shevchenko.” Sergio says, and then, his lips are against his.
It almost burns for how hot they are, but it feels too good to pull away. And Sergio ventures further, pressing firmly against his, until his tongue licks its way inside his mouth. A moan rumbles in Fernando's throat, that would only be swallowed if it tried to escape. His breath shudders across Sergio's face when he feels his warm hands roam under his shirt, and the mere thought of it being there just seems so comfortable, so right. And he knows now, that Sergio has got him all figured out. Just by a look and a kiss, it's already too late to hide.
“I'm the one who rubs against you.” Sergio mumbles against his neck. “And in this case, you're Kaká. But there's something you mistaken about him, about you.”
Fernando closes his eyes when Sergio sucks on his earlobe and plays with the knot of his pajama drawstrings before speaking again.
“The both of you weren't clueless. You already knew.”
He pulls away from his ear to lick at Fernando's parted mouth again, before he breathes out, “It was pretty obvious.”
Fernando could only swallow down the dryness of his denial and let his desires roam freely into his mind.
They were soaked with sweat. Because Sergio fucked him under the blankets. Flat on his stomach and mercilessly against the mattress until the headboard rattling mingled with Fernando's cries within the room. Both their hair stuck to their faces when they were done and they didn't even bother to get from under the covers to cold air. They laid there, sticky and exhausted until sunrise broke through the blankets.
Fernando was the first to speak up. Thick of sleep, “How did a conversation about Fernando Morientes lead to this?”
When Sergio opened his eyes, Fernando's was already on him. He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from Sergio's eye lid. Sergio returned the warming greeting with a kiss to his nose.
He smirked. “Drag queens.”