Not Alone - AU
Title: Not Alone - 5a/6
Author: littlesumo scribblscrabbl delicatale
Rating: NC17 (this chapter)
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger
Disclaimer: This is fiction
Summary: Of all the things Fernando wanted to do, of all the things he wanted to see, of all the places he wanted to go to, he never thought giving up football, going back to Spain and moving to Seville would be any of them.
They come back only a few days later, if only because Dan's got appointments at work. He's quite sad to see the sea disappear behind them as Fernando drives them back to Sevilla, but he doesn't say anything about it. Maybe they can come back soon.
It's been such a nice trip, away from the world and their troubles for a while, enjoying each other's company, learning more about each other.
And then there'd been the drinking, and the kissing. If he thinks about it hard enough, Dan can still feel Fernando's lips on his own, even if they haven't done anything since the kayak kiss. But it felt so natural, to kiss Fernando and then move on, go for more ice cream and sangria, enjoy that unmistakable feeling that they can only find in Spain, especially when they don't have anything else to do than to enjoy that feeling.
Now they're back in Sevilla and Dan hasn't seen Fernando in a few days. And, to be honest, he misses the Spaniard. Not hearing his voice every day, and seeing him smile, and touching him, and- yeah. Dan misses him.
He's considering closing the tattoo parlour early to swing by Fernando's when the shop door opens and Fernando’s standing there.
"Hey."
"Hi."
"Been a few days, I was starting to wonder if you were still alive, so I decided to come check."
"I... I was about to come by your place, actually."
Fernando's face breaks into a smile then and it's brighter and sweeter than any recreation of it Dan has conjured up in the past few days. He also dares to think that it hasn't dimmed since Cádiz, that whatever burdens Fernando had shed along those white streets and into the sea haven't come back.
"I was thinking we could go to dinner or something. I hear a great place opened recently, right by Plaza Nueva."
Fernando's rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets, probably trying not to seem overly hopeful but it's obvious to Dan and he bites back a smile. It's just too endearing. He really could care less what they do, as long as he gets to watch Fernando, touch him, make him laugh, and find out if that need is still there, still mutual.
He traces a groove in the wood of the table top and wonders if it wouldn't be such a terrible idea to be selfish, to want Fernando to himself, away from noise and lights and scrutiny.
"How about I cook dinner?"
Time grinds to a halt as Fernando blinks at the question. Dan is about to blurt out an explanation, a retraction, anything to lessen his mortification, when Fernando responds.
"Are you any good?" He's teasing, mouth soft and eyes glittering, and Dan manages to push his heart out of his throat and back into his chest.
"I can make a mean Æbleflæsk." He didn't plan to say that but it was the first thing on his mind.
"Eyble-flesk?" Dan would laugh at Fernando's attempt at the pronunciation if his heart didn't swell a tiny bit.
"Æbleflæsk," he repeats slowly. "It's a Danish dish. My mother taught me how to cook it. But if you feel less adventurous, I can make something else, without burning it." He wants to grin, make a joke to cover his slight embarrassment, but Fernando contemplates him so earnestly, that it slides right off his face.
"I'd love for you to cook me something Danish. I can have Spanish food any day."
Dan doesn't know how to read Fernando's face or voice and he coughs, just to break the awkwardness he suddenly feels.
"Alright. I... um... will need to go grocery shopping then. I have to clean up here first though, so maybe you can come back in an hour or something?"
"I'll wait for you. I'm bored at home."
Fernando smiles and this time Dan can read into that. It says I missed you as well as any words would, and he smiles back.
Dan constantly wants to stop cleaning and just walk over to where Nando is sitting, straddle him and maybe just kiss him breathless, maybe more, probably more. He wants to touch Fernando again, get under his clothes, under his skin, run his fingers down the ridges of his spine and feel his muscles. He wants to see Fernando naked, too, fuck, he does. And he wants much more than kissing. It's not the place or anything, but now he can't stop thinking about it and he can't stop looking at Nando, either.
"Okay, done here! Groceries now."
"There's a little market down the street."
"Cool. Did you take your car?"
"No, I walked."
Dan nods, grabbing his keys as Fernando stands up and follows him to the door. He makes quick work of locks, not bothering about the metal blinds that really aren't needed for a tattoo parlour in Sevilla. And then they're in Dan's car, driving towards the market and Dan is going over the recipe in his head. He doesn't want to fuck it up.
"We need wine, too. Or beer?"
"Beer's good for me. I don't know which wine would go with this dish. I've never been...you know. I'm not that fancy, Nando."
"I know." There's a sense of familiarity in Fernando's words and smile that warms spots in Dan that he's found only Fernando can reach, without any effort at all. And if that thought makes him a hopelessly sappy sod, so be it.
When they get to his flat, he refuses Fernando's help but lets him lean against the counter and watch, even though it's distracting and Dan's afraid he might accidentally chop off his own fingers.
"You look like a real pro."
Dan looks up and sees that Fernando is serious, curious even, and it makes him realize there are so many more stories they haven't shared. The thought is absolutely exciting and just a little frightening because he's never been the kind of person to open up, lay out all his pieces and hope that someone will pick them up and think they're good enough.
But this is Fernando and there's already been a give and take between them that reassures Dan that there's something about him that's keeping Fernando here.
"I used to work in my uncle's restaurant back in Copenhagen. He's a perfectionist about everything, from the temperature of the frying oil to the size of the onions to be cut. He prides himself on that."
Fernando pushes off of the counter and takes a closer look.
"You didn't pay attention though, did you? That piece is bigger than the others. And not square." He points with a finger towards the small heap of onions Dan has already cut.
"If you're not careful, this will have a special ingredient: finger of Torres."
"Way to treat your guests."
Dan answers Fernando's grin, but inside he thinks, even if it's the first time he's cooking dinner for the two of them, Fernando doesn't feel like a guest, feels like he belongs to his flat already. Comfortably fitting right in with the furniture. Or on the furniture.
He clears his throat a bit. Lately he cannot keep his thoughts clean when thinking about the other man, and it doesn't help that Fernando has inched closer to bump shoulders.
"You should maybe sit down, until I'm finished here." Dan nods at the couch in the living room.
"Why, am I making you nervous?" The grin on Fernando's face is teasing, the finger, softly stroking along Dan’s exposed forearm once.
"It's my fingers I'll chop if you keep on distracting me."
Fernando makes a little sound at the back of his throat, stepping away and going to the fridge, grabbing a beer and then Dan hears the scraping noise of a chair being pulled.
"Wouldn't want that."
There's still something teasing in Fernando's tone, and Dan puts the knife down, turning around and giving Fernando what he hopes is a hard look, but he knows better. He knows his eyes are betraying him, and the way Fernando smiles, he has to know it too. And if Dan kept on thinking he was able to keep anyone at a distance if he wanted to, he completely fooled himself, because Fernando is well and truly past the boundaries Dan thought he had up.
"Are you even hungry?"
Fernando raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer before running his thumb over the head of the bottle. If Dan didn't know better, he'd think Fernando was trying to seduce him.
"I am. I'm sorry I'm distracting. I just. Missed you."
With that, he stands up again and steps close to Dan, his face earnest. Dan just wants to grab him and kiss him senseless right now. Fuck the food.
But he wants to do this right for a change, cook for Fernando, set the table (light a few candles if he has the nerve), have dinner conversation like they've both just come home from work, and make this feel permanent.
So, "I've missed you too," is all he says before trying to convey everything he's hoping for through one smile, and make Fernando understand that he's only being sensible because Fernando's not just anyone. In fact, this is the first time he's brought someone over to his flat, even though he's not ready to admit it out loud just yet.
"Okay, master chef, I'll leave you to it." Dan dares to imagine that Fernando's cheeks are glowing as the blond grins and retreats to the living room. Dan takes a moment to admire the view, firm jeans-clad arse and just a teasing glimpse of the new tattoo, before turning back to his preparations, hand gripped around his knife like it's the only thing anchoring his resolve.
When he has the meatloaf baking in the oven (already checked on it twice in the first five minutes), he grabs a beer for himself and walks out to the living room to join Fernando, who's staring intently at his mobile but puts it away quickly when he looks up.
"Alright?"
"Yeah, nothing important."
Fernando can't quite meet his eyes when he says that, but Dan figures he's just embarrassed by a text he got or something and in any case it's not his place to pry if Fernando doesn't want to tell him.
"So, the food will take at least an hour, I'll have to look after it every now and then though. What do you want to do in the meantime?"
Fernando seems to contemplate this before he looks at him with an eyebrow raised. "I can think of a few things."
Dan feels heat creeping up his neck and wishes he would stop reacting like a damn teenager. Oh, but two can play at this game. "And what would that be?"
He takes a sip of his beer, making sure that Fernando sees exactly the way he wraps his lips around the head of the bottle, tipping his head slightly backwards to let the liquid flow into his mouth.
"Remember, you have to check on the food every now and then." Fernando winks and it's as much of an affirmation of their banter than a reminder that they shouldn't start anything now. "You have an X-Box, right?"
Dan manages not to sigh, because he knows it's the right thing to do, but fuck it if he doesn't want to just jump Fernando right now. He looks so stupidly inviting here, on Dan's couch, belonging there perfectly.
"Yeah."
Dan goes to his TV set, getting the controllers out and turning on the game console.
"Turn the telly on?"
"What's the game?"
Fernando turns on the television as Dan goes to sit next to him, handing him a controller.
"PES. That okay?"
"Yeah. Makes me think.... I- ehr. I have an interview, for a job."
"Here?"
Dan has no idea why, but he always thought that Fernando, at some point, would leave. Go back to Madrid or something. Something he can't quite pinpoint blossoms in his chest when Fernando nods.
"Yeah. It's not much, it's for a charity thing. I'd teach kids football."
Dan studies Fernando at those words. He's not really sure what he's looking for - a shadow maybe, a break in the easy rhythm Fernando's found since Cádiz to suggest just how deep the wounds go - but all he sees is a bit of uncertainty in the way Fernando sucks his lower lip into his mouth and fiddles with the controller. A kind of uncertainty that makes Dan feel like Fernando's seeking his approval and, as much as he thinks he's not worthy of that regard, he can't help the warmth that spreads through his limbs.
"That sounds really great." He doesn't say it just to make Fernando smile; he says it because if anyone deserves a break, a chance to remind himself of what he loves, it's Fernando. "I'm sure you'll nail the interview."
Fernando's cheeks flush a bit, that endearing pink that makes Dan think of ridiculously sappy things like moonlit walks on the beach and rose petals strewn on silk sheets.
"I just- I don't want them to see me as Fernando Torres, you know? Label me as a success or a failure without waiting to see if I can be someone in between. Just someone average who wants their kids to learn and have fun."
Dan wants to tell Fernando that he's not average, that he was born to play the beautiful game and that'll never change no matter how many people are watching him, but he knows it's not what Fernando wants to hear right now.
"Well. Maybe they will, a little, at first. But you'll prove to them what you're worth, yeah?"
Fernando smiles, hesitant, and Dan wonders if he didn't completely cock it up by saying the wrong words. But then Fernando smiles bigger, bumping his shoulder against Dan's.
"Yeah. Thanks. Hey, you said you wanted to check on the food from time to time?"
Letting go of the controller, Dan nods.
"Pick a team, I'll be right back."
The food is perfect when Dan checks on it, baking exactly as it's supposed to, and he can't help the sinking feeling that something has to go wrong at some point. The balance between luck and fuck-ups has to happen at some point. And lately, his life has been pretty perfect.
Forcing the dark thoughts away, Dan goes back to the living-room to find that Fernando chose the Spanish national team.
"I thought international would be better."
"Does that mean I have to take Denmark?"
"I'll kick your arse either way."
"Oh? Wanna bet on it?"
"Loser washes the dishes."
"You're on."
Fernando's grinning shamelessly now, teeth and competitive streak gleaming, and Dan feels it mirrored on his own face. He was content before, happy even, but never like this. Like he's soaked up all the warmth of the sun and still he wants more. Like he's climbed the highest peak and the view is the most gorgeous he's even seen.
He's not sure what the game says about their actual talents on the pitch, but fifteen minutes in and they're more or less equally matched. Although, Dan's pretty sure he'd be beating Fernando if he wasn't sneaking peeks at the blond every other minute, watching how Fernando sticks the tip of his tongue out in concentration and how his face falls in childlike disappointment when he fails to score.
When the timer on the oven sounds, Fernando throws down his controller and sticks his arms up in the air in triumph.
"What are you cheering for, it's a tie."
"But I scored the last goal. I win."
Dan shakes his head at the childlike logic while he moves over to the kitchen, making sure he doesn't burn their dinner at the last minute.
"I'm cooking you dinner already. Shouldn't you reciprocate?"
"First of all, I'm your guest, so you should be doing the dishes anyway," Fernando is unexpectedly standing behind him, close behind him, "and second, I didn't say I wouldn't reciprocate."
Dan is pretty sure they're not talking about the dishes anymore and he also no longer has doubts about reading Fernando right.
For the tiniest, tiniest second his mind wanders to the content of his bedside drawer, but he bans those thoughts immediately, trying to concentrate on the meatloaf instead.
"Um... dinner, is ready."
"Right."
He can feel Fernando step away from him again and he's pretty sure that feeling in his stomach is disappointment. Get a grip, Dan!
He forces himself to not think about anything other than his meatloaf and not to drop it when he takes it out of the oven, when he realises that the table isn't even set.
"Fuck. I suck as a host."
Fernando laughs, and when he reaches out and runs a hand down Dan's back, in a comforting, reassuring gesture, Dan grips the oven tray a little tighter before putting it on the table. Funny how sometimes he can perfectly control himself around Fernando, but sometimes, especially when they're alone, it's the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do.
"You don't. We were busy! I would have been bored if you were in here setting up the table while I was on my own in the living-room... So, don't worry, for now you've been a perfect host."
"You're so full of shit. You're only staying because the food smells okay and I've got beer."
Dan rolls his eyes, even though he's only teasing and Fernando has to know. When he steps away from the table to get plates and cutlery, Fernando stops him, hand curled around Dan's forearm and pulling him close suddenly, their bodies pressed against each other.
"That's not only why I'm staying."
And then he kisses Dan, strong and passionate, showing he's been waiting to do it for a while, and Dan melts right into it, his arm looping around Fernando's neck.
It feels familiar yet somehow absolutely new, the way Fernando licks into his mouth, slowly and thoroughly, and the feel of Fernando's tongue sliding hot and wet and purposefully against his. This time, though, he feels grounded and certain, not like he's about to float off to a far away place where there's nothing to hold onto and everything is grey and uncharted.
And in the middle of it all there's the part of him that's demanding for more heat, more skin, and more of those delicious noises rising from Fernando's throat that he can almost feel against his mouth. A growling, impatient part of him that just wants to press Fernando against the counter and find out exactly how loud he can be.
But then Fernando draws away after nipping at his lips one last time and presses their foreheads together, palm settling heavily against Dan's chest like he wants to collect Dan's heartbeat and keep it safe.
"Dinner smells amazing. Maybe we should enjoy that first, yes?"
Dan doesn't want to be rational. He wants to forget about any intention except the one to keep Fernando against him, on him, around him, wherever and for however long Fernando's willing to stay. Instead he inhales and covers Fernando's hand with his own, then tangles their fingers together lazily and lets them fit together naturally (perfectly).
They stay like that for a moment longer, fingers entangled, foreheads touching, breathing each other in. Dan closes his eyes for a second, just feeling, and when he opens them again, Fernando is smiling and stepping back a bit. Dan stretches out his arm, not willing to let go just yet, and Fernando squeezes his hand.
"I'm not going anywhere. Come."
Fernando tugs him forward to the table.
"Wait!"
Dan turns around, still not letting go, and opens the drawer with the cutlery, taking the necessary items out and handing them to Fernando.
"Are we going to eat like this too?" Fernando looks down at their still joined hands, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth (mischievous) and Dan feels a bit sheepish.
"No, that could be a bit awkward."
He feels another squeeze, then the cool air of the kitchen when Fernando finally lets go.
"Get the plates then and come sit down."
Once they're settled and the table is made, they plate up and start eating in silence for a while, just looking at each other over their food, exchanging smiles and sometimes chuckles. But when they start talking about football and tattoos and going back to Cádiz one of these days and plans for the next weekend, it's easy and comfortable and Dan doesn't want it to stop. He wants Fernando around him all the time, there when he comes home from work, he wants to cook with him and go to bed with him and suddenly words are stuck at the back of his throat. He remembers how it all started, how he couldn't stand Fernando, felt uncomfortable around him. Now, he knows he wouldn't even feel as comfortable around Nicklas.
"Dan?"
"Huh, yeah? Sorry, zoned out."
"Yeah, wouldn't have guessed. I was just saying, this is really good. My turn next time, okay?"
"Of course it is."
Dan smiles at Fernando, getting a chuckle in return. He still feels like words he wants to say are stuck in the back of his throat, though, and he wishes Fernando would understand them without Dan having to say them.
"Okay, what's on your mind?"
"Just. Nothing. Stupid thought."
"Oh, come on. I've opened up to you more than I've opened to anyone else, and you're going to keep me out now?"
"No! I mean. It's just fucking girly."
Fernando grins, taking a sip of wine as he waits for Dan to say more. Apparently he's not going to talk until Dan says it.
"Okay, fine. I was just wondering if- if we're in a relationship, or something."
There. The words are out and they sound completely inadequate like he knew they would. He considers himself a decently eloquent person. At least, he always gets right to the point when he speaks. But this, all the intricate threads of hopes and fears and expectations connecting him to Fernando right now, feels as impossible to convey as drawing four dimensions on paper or putting a name to every shade of colour the eye can distinguish.
So he looks down and chases a piece of meatloaf around his plate with his fork, waiting with bated breath for Fernando's response because he's not sure what he'll do if Fernando says no.
He waits for so long that he finally looks up, if only to check that Fernando's still sitting across from him, and there he is, eyes steady like he wants Dan to see how honest he is when he answers.
"I would like that."
Fernando's smile is slightly shy and somehow different from all the others Dan has seen so far - maybe not as dazzling but more deeply rooted, like this kind of happiness might never leave. Dan thinks that he's willing to spend a lifetime giving it reasons to stay.
"Me too. Not that this... label, or whatever it is, has to change anything, of course."
"Well. Maybe it can change some things." Fernando's eyes are darker now, simmering with a heat that makes Dan's skin feel too tight and lungs too small.
"Yes?"
"Yes. Some things definitely should change."
Fernando stands up and Dan's eyes are glued to him, the way he moves around the table, taking Dan's hand, pulling him up.
"For example," Dan can feel one hand on his hip, fingertips just barely skimming the skin under the hem of his T-shirt, "you should lose this." Fernando is definitely tugging now and Dan can feel heat pooling in his stomach so quickly, it almost makes him dizzy. Fernando lets go of him and he steps away so he can pull his T-shirt over his head, and then Fernando's hands are back and it feels like every place he touches is a memory seared into his skin of how it feels.
"You too."
Fernando complies and then they're skin on skin, for the first time, like this, and the feeling so glorious. Dan wishes he could record it somehow, and experience it again and again. Fernando is placing kisses on his jaw and the side of his mouth and even though Dan grows more impatient by the second, he relishes the tiny touches and kisses.
"Where did we stop before the food?" Fernando mumbles against his skin and Dan reaches out a hand to tip his head up.
"Right here."
This time around, though, it's Dan taking control of the kiss, slowly but surely walking the two of them out of the kitchen. Not that he doesn't have an adventurous streak or anything, but he'd rather, if this finally - fucking finally - happens, that it's not on top of meatloaf leftovers.
*
Part B
Author: littlesumo scribblscrabbl delicatale
Rating: NC17 (this chapter)
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Daniel Agger
Disclaimer: This is fiction
Summary: Of all the things Fernando wanted to do, of all the things he wanted to see, of all the places he wanted to go to, he never thought giving up football, going back to Spain and moving to Seville would be any of them.
They come back only a few days later, if only because Dan's got appointments at work. He's quite sad to see the sea disappear behind them as Fernando drives them back to Sevilla, but he doesn't say anything about it. Maybe they can come back soon.
It's been such a nice trip, away from the world and their troubles for a while, enjoying each other's company, learning more about each other.
And then there'd been the drinking, and the kissing. If he thinks about it hard enough, Dan can still feel Fernando's lips on his own, even if they haven't done anything since the kayak kiss. But it felt so natural, to kiss Fernando and then move on, go for more ice cream and sangria, enjoy that unmistakable feeling that they can only find in Spain, especially when they don't have anything else to do than to enjoy that feeling.
Now they're back in Sevilla and Dan hasn't seen Fernando in a few days. And, to be honest, he misses the Spaniard. Not hearing his voice every day, and seeing him smile, and touching him, and- yeah. Dan misses him.
He's considering closing the tattoo parlour early to swing by Fernando's when the shop door opens and Fernando’s standing there.
"Hey."
"Hi."
"Been a few days, I was starting to wonder if you were still alive, so I decided to come check."
"I... I was about to come by your place, actually."
Fernando's face breaks into a smile then and it's brighter and sweeter than any recreation of it Dan has conjured up in the past few days. He also dares to think that it hasn't dimmed since Cádiz, that whatever burdens Fernando had shed along those white streets and into the sea haven't come back.
"I was thinking we could go to dinner or something. I hear a great place opened recently, right by Plaza Nueva."
Fernando's rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets, probably trying not to seem overly hopeful but it's obvious to Dan and he bites back a smile. It's just too endearing. He really could care less what they do, as long as he gets to watch Fernando, touch him, make him laugh, and find out if that need is still there, still mutual.
He traces a groove in the wood of the table top and wonders if it wouldn't be such a terrible idea to be selfish, to want Fernando to himself, away from noise and lights and scrutiny.
"How about I cook dinner?"
Time grinds to a halt as Fernando blinks at the question. Dan is about to blurt out an explanation, a retraction, anything to lessen his mortification, when Fernando responds.
"Are you any good?" He's teasing, mouth soft and eyes glittering, and Dan manages to push his heart out of his throat and back into his chest.
"I can make a mean Æbleflæsk." He didn't plan to say that but it was the first thing on his mind.
"Eyble-flesk?" Dan would laugh at Fernando's attempt at the pronunciation if his heart didn't swell a tiny bit.
"Æbleflæsk," he repeats slowly. "It's a Danish dish. My mother taught me how to cook it. But if you feel less adventurous, I can make something else, without burning it." He wants to grin, make a joke to cover his slight embarrassment, but Fernando contemplates him so earnestly, that it slides right off his face.
"I'd love for you to cook me something Danish. I can have Spanish food any day."
Dan doesn't know how to read Fernando's face or voice and he coughs, just to break the awkwardness he suddenly feels.
"Alright. I... um... will need to go grocery shopping then. I have to clean up here first though, so maybe you can come back in an hour or something?"
"I'll wait for you. I'm bored at home."
Fernando smiles and this time Dan can read into that. It says I missed you as well as any words would, and he smiles back.
Dan constantly wants to stop cleaning and just walk over to where Nando is sitting, straddle him and maybe just kiss him breathless, maybe more, probably more. He wants to touch Fernando again, get under his clothes, under his skin, run his fingers down the ridges of his spine and feel his muscles. He wants to see Fernando naked, too, fuck, he does. And he wants much more than kissing. It's not the place or anything, but now he can't stop thinking about it and he can't stop looking at Nando, either.
"Okay, done here! Groceries now."
"There's a little market down the street."
"Cool. Did you take your car?"
"No, I walked."
Dan nods, grabbing his keys as Fernando stands up and follows him to the door. He makes quick work of locks, not bothering about the metal blinds that really aren't needed for a tattoo parlour in Sevilla. And then they're in Dan's car, driving towards the market and Dan is going over the recipe in his head. He doesn't want to fuck it up.
"We need wine, too. Or beer?"
"Beer's good for me. I don't know which wine would go with this dish. I've never been...you know. I'm not that fancy, Nando."
"I know." There's a sense of familiarity in Fernando's words and smile that warms spots in Dan that he's found only Fernando can reach, without any effort at all. And if that thought makes him a hopelessly sappy sod, so be it.
When they get to his flat, he refuses Fernando's help but lets him lean against the counter and watch, even though it's distracting and Dan's afraid he might accidentally chop off his own fingers.
"You look like a real pro."
Dan looks up and sees that Fernando is serious, curious even, and it makes him realize there are so many more stories they haven't shared. The thought is absolutely exciting and just a little frightening because he's never been the kind of person to open up, lay out all his pieces and hope that someone will pick them up and think they're good enough.
But this is Fernando and there's already been a give and take between them that reassures Dan that there's something about him that's keeping Fernando here.
"I used to work in my uncle's restaurant back in Copenhagen. He's a perfectionist about everything, from the temperature of the frying oil to the size of the onions to be cut. He prides himself on that."
Fernando pushes off of the counter and takes a closer look.
"You didn't pay attention though, did you? That piece is bigger than the others. And not square." He points with a finger towards the small heap of onions Dan has already cut.
"If you're not careful, this will have a special ingredient: finger of Torres."
"Way to treat your guests."
Dan answers Fernando's grin, but inside he thinks, even if it's the first time he's cooking dinner for the two of them, Fernando doesn't feel like a guest, feels like he belongs to his flat already. Comfortably fitting right in with the furniture. Or on the furniture.
He clears his throat a bit. Lately he cannot keep his thoughts clean when thinking about the other man, and it doesn't help that Fernando has inched closer to bump shoulders.
"You should maybe sit down, until I'm finished here." Dan nods at the couch in the living room.
"Why, am I making you nervous?" The grin on Fernando's face is teasing, the finger, softly stroking along Dan’s exposed forearm once.
"It's my fingers I'll chop if you keep on distracting me."
Fernando makes a little sound at the back of his throat, stepping away and going to the fridge, grabbing a beer and then Dan hears the scraping noise of a chair being pulled.
"Wouldn't want that."
There's still something teasing in Fernando's tone, and Dan puts the knife down, turning around and giving Fernando what he hopes is a hard look, but he knows better. He knows his eyes are betraying him, and the way Fernando smiles, he has to know it too. And if Dan kept on thinking he was able to keep anyone at a distance if he wanted to, he completely fooled himself, because Fernando is well and truly past the boundaries Dan thought he had up.
"Are you even hungry?"
Fernando raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer before running his thumb over the head of the bottle. If Dan didn't know better, he'd think Fernando was trying to seduce him.
"I am. I'm sorry I'm distracting. I just. Missed you."
With that, he stands up again and steps close to Dan, his face earnest. Dan just wants to grab him and kiss him senseless right now. Fuck the food.
But he wants to do this right for a change, cook for Fernando, set the table (light a few candles if he has the nerve), have dinner conversation like they've both just come home from work, and make this feel permanent.
So, "I've missed you too," is all he says before trying to convey everything he's hoping for through one smile, and make Fernando understand that he's only being sensible because Fernando's not just anyone. In fact, this is the first time he's brought someone over to his flat, even though he's not ready to admit it out loud just yet.
"Okay, master chef, I'll leave you to it." Dan dares to imagine that Fernando's cheeks are glowing as the blond grins and retreats to the living room. Dan takes a moment to admire the view, firm jeans-clad arse and just a teasing glimpse of the new tattoo, before turning back to his preparations, hand gripped around his knife like it's the only thing anchoring his resolve.
When he has the meatloaf baking in the oven (already checked on it twice in the first five minutes), he grabs a beer for himself and walks out to the living room to join Fernando, who's staring intently at his mobile but puts it away quickly when he looks up.
"Alright?"
"Yeah, nothing important."
Fernando can't quite meet his eyes when he says that, but Dan figures he's just embarrassed by a text he got or something and in any case it's not his place to pry if Fernando doesn't want to tell him.
"So, the food will take at least an hour, I'll have to look after it every now and then though. What do you want to do in the meantime?"
Fernando seems to contemplate this before he looks at him with an eyebrow raised. "I can think of a few things."
Dan feels heat creeping up his neck and wishes he would stop reacting like a damn teenager. Oh, but two can play at this game. "And what would that be?"
He takes a sip of his beer, making sure that Fernando sees exactly the way he wraps his lips around the head of the bottle, tipping his head slightly backwards to let the liquid flow into his mouth.
"Remember, you have to check on the food every now and then." Fernando winks and it's as much of an affirmation of their banter than a reminder that they shouldn't start anything now. "You have an X-Box, right?"
Dan manages not to sigh, because he knows it's the right thing to do, but fuck it if he doesn't want to just jump Fernando right now. He looks so stupidly inviting here, on Dan's couch, belonging there perfectly.
"Yeah."
Dan goes to his TV set, getting the controllers out and turning on the game console.
"Turn the telly on?"
"What's the game?"
Fernando turns on the television as Dan goes to sit next to him, handing him a controller.
"PES. That okay?"
"Yeah. Makes me think.... I- ehr. I have an interview, for a job."
"Here?"
Dan has no idea why, but he always thought that Fernando, at some point, would leave. Go back to Madrid or something. Something he can't quite pinpoint blossoms in his chest when Fernando nods.
"Yeah. It's not much, it's for a charity thing. I'd teach kids football."
Dan studies Fernando at those words. He's not really sure what he's looking for - a shadow maybe, a break in the easy rhythm Fernando's found since Cádiz to suggest just how deep the wounds go - but all he sees is a bit of uncertainty in the way Fernando sucks his lower lip into his mouth and fiddles with the controller. A kind of uncertainty that makes Dan feel like Fernando's seeking his approval and, as much as he thinks he's not worthy of that regard, he can't help the warmth that spreads through his limbs.
"That sounds really great." He doesn't say it just to make Fernando smile; he says it because if anyone deserves a break, a chance to remind himself of what he loves, it's Fernando. "I'm sure you'll nail the interview."
Fernando's cheeks flush a bit, that endearing pink that makes Dan think of ridiculously sappy things like moonlit walks on the beach and rose petals strewn on silk sheets.
"I just- I don't want them to see me as Fernando Torres, you know? Label me as a success or a failure without waiting to see if I can be someone in between. Just someone average who wants their kids to learn and have fun."
Dan wants to tell Fernando that he's not average, that he was born to play the beautiful game and that'll never change no matter how many people are watching him, but he knows it's not what Fernando wants to hear right now.
"Well. Maybe they will, a little, at first. But you'll prove to them what you're worth, yeah?"
Fernando smiles, hesitant, and Dan wonders if he didn't completely cock it up by saying the wrong words. But then Fernando smiles bigger, bumping his shoulder against Dan's.
"Yeah. Thanks. Hey, you said you wanted to check on the food from time to time?"
Letting go of the controller, Dan nods.
"Pick a team, I'll be right back."
The food is perfect when Dan checks on it, baking exactly as it's supposed to, and he can't help the sinking feeling that something has to go wrong at some point. The balance between luck and fuck-ups has to happen at some point. And lately, his life has been pretty perfect.
Forcing the dark thoughts away, Dan goes back to the living-room to find that Fernando chose the Spanish national team.
"I thought international would be better."
"Does that mean I have to take Denmark?"
"I'll kick your arse either way."
"Oh? Wanna bet on it?"
"Loser washes the dishes."
"You're on."
Fernando's grinning shamelessly now, teeth and competitive streak gleaming, and Dan feels it mirrored on his own face. He was content before, happy even, but never like this. Like he's soaked up all the warmth of the sun and still he wants more. Like he's climbed the highest peak and the view is the most gorgeous he's even seen.
He's not sure what the game says about their actual talents on the pitch, but fifteen minutes in and they're more or less equally matched. Although, Dan's pretty sure he'd be beating Fernando if he wasn't sneaking peeks at the blond every other minute, watching how Fernando sticks the tip of his tongue out in concentration and how his face falls in childlike disappointment when he fails to score.
When the timer on the oven sounds, Fernando throws down his controller and sticks his arms up in the air in triumph.
"What are you cheering for, it's a tie."
"But I scored the last goal. I win."
Dan shakes his head at the childlike logic while he moves over to the kitchen, making sure he doesn't burn their dinner at the last minute.
"I'm cooking you dinner already. Shouldn't you reciprocate?"
"First of all, I'm your guest, so you should be doing the dishes anyway," Fernando is unexpectedly standing behind him, close behind him, "and second, I didn't say I wouldn't reciprocate."
Dan is pretty sure they're not talking about the dishes anymore and he also no longer has doubts about reading Fernando right.
For the tiniest, tiniest second his mind wanders to the content of his bedside drawer, but he bans those thoughts immediately, trying to concentrate on the meatloaf instead.
"Um... dinner, is ready."
"Right."
He can feel Fernando step away from him again and he's pretty sure that feeling in his stomach is disappointment. Get a grip, Dan!
He forces himself to not think about anything other than his meatloaf and not to drop it when he takes it out of the oven, when he realises that the table isn't even set.
"Fuck. I suck as a host."
Fernando laughs, and when he reaches out and runs a hand down Dan's back, in a comforting, reassuring gesture, Dan grips the oven tray a little tighter before putting it on the table. Funny how sometimes he can perfectly control himself around Fernando, but sometimes, especially when they're alone, it's the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do.
"You don't. We were busy! I would have been bored if you were in here setting up the table while I was on my own in the living-room... So, don't worry, for now you've been a perfect host."
"You're so full of shit. You're only staying because the food smells okay and I've got beer."
Dan rolls his eyes, even though he's only teasing and Fernando has to know. When he steps away from the table to get plates and cutlery, Fernando stops him, hand curled around Dan's forearm and pulling him close suddenly, their bodies pressed against each other.
"That's not only why I'm staying."
And then he kisses Dan, strong and passionate, showing he's been waiting to do it for a while, and Dan melts right into it, his arm looping around Fernando's neck.
It feels familiar yet somehow absolutely new, the way Fernando licks into his mouth, slowly and thoroughly, and the feel of Fernando's tongue sliding hot and wet and purposefully against his. This time, though, he feels grounded and certain, not like he's about to float off to a far away place where there's nothing to hold onto and everything is grey and uncharted.
And in the middle of it all there's the part of him that's demanding for more heat, more skin, and more of those delicious noises rising from Fernando's throat that he can almost feel against his mouth. A growling, impatient part of him that just wants to press Fernando against the counter and find out exactly how loud he can be.
But then Fernando draws away after nipping at his lips one last time and presses their foreheads together, palm settling heavily against Dan's chest like he wants to collect Dan's heartbeat and keep it safe.
"Dinner smells amazing. Maybe we should enjoy that first, yes?"
Dan doesn't want to be rational. He wants to forget about any intention except the one to keep Fernando against him, on him, around him, wherever and for however long Fernando's willing to stay. Instead he inhales and covers Fernando's hand with his own, then tangles their fingers together lazily and lets them fit together naturally (perfectly).
They stay like that for a moment longer, fingers entangled, foreheads touching, breathing each other in. Dan closes his eyes for a second, just feeling, and when he opens them again, Fernando is smiling and stepping back a bit. Dan stretches out his arm, not willing to let go just yet, and Fernando squeezes his hand.
"I'm not going anywhere. Come."
Fernando tugs him forward to the table.
"Wait!"
Dan turns around, still not letting go, and opens the drawer with the cutlery, taking the necessary items out and handing them to Fernando.
"Are we going to eat like this too?" Fernando looks down at their still joined hands, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth (mischievous) and Dan feels a bit sheepish.
"No, that could be a bit awkward."
He feels another squeeze, then the cool air of the kitchen when Fernando finally lets go.
"Get the plates then and come sit down."
Once they're settled and the table is made, they plate up and start eating in silence for a while, just looking at each other over their food, exchanging smiles and sometimes chuckles. But when they start talking about football and tattoos and going back to Cádiz one of these days and plans for the next weekend, it's easy and comfortable and Dan doesn't want it to stop. He wants Fernando around him all the time, there when he comes home from work, he wants to cook with him and go to bed with him and suddenly words are stuck at the back of his throat. He remembers how it all started, how he couldn't stand Fernando, felt uncomfortable around him. Now, he knows he wouldn't even feel as comfortable around Nicklas.
"Dan?"
"Huh, yeah? Sorry, zoned out."
"Yeah, wouldn't have guessed. I was just saying, this is really good. My turn next time, okay?"
"Of course it is."
Dan smiles at Fernando, getting a chuckle in return. He still feels like words he wants to say are stuck in the back of his throat, though, and he wishes Fernando would understand them without Dan having to say them.
"Okay, what's on your mind?"
"Just. Nothing. Stupid thought."
"Oh, come on. I've opened up to you more than I've opened to anyone else, and you're going to keep me out now?"
"No! I mean. It's just fucking girly."
Fernando grins, taking a sip of wine as he waits for Dan to say more. Apparently he's not going to talk until Dan says it.
"Okay, fine. I was just wondering if- if we're in a relationship, or something."
There. The words are out and they sound completely inadequate like he knew they would. He considers himself a decently eloquent person. At least, he always gets right to the point when he speaks. But this, all the intricate threads of hopes and fears and expectations connecting him to Fernando right now, feels as impossible to convey as drawing four dimensions on paper or putting a name to every shade of colour the eye can distinguish.
So he looks down and chases a piece of meatloaf around his plate with his fork, waiting with bated breath for Fernando's response because he's not sure what he'll do if Fernando says no.
He waits for so long that he finally looks up, if only to check that Fernando's still sitting across from him, and there he is, eyes steady like he wants Dan to see how honest he is when he answers.
"I would like that."
Fernando's smile is slightly shy and somehow different from all the others Dan has seen so far - maybe not as dazzling but more deeply rooted, like this kind of happiness might never leave. Dan thinks that he's willing to spend a lifetime giving it reasons to stay.
"Me too. Not that this... label, or whatever it is, has to change anything, of course."
"Well. Maybe it can change some things." Fernando's eyes are darker now, simmering with a heat that makes Dan's skin feel too tight and lungs too small.
"Yes?"
"Yes. Some things definitely should change."
Fernando stands up and Dan's eyes are glued to him, the way he moves around the table, taking Dan's hand, pulling him up.
"For example," Dan can feel one hand on his hip, fingertips just barely skimming the skin under the hem of his T-shirt, "you should lose this." Fernando is definitely tugging now and Dan can feel heat pooling in his stomach so quickly, it almost makes him dizzy. Fernando lets go of him and he steps away so he can pull his T-shirt over his head, and then Fernando's hands are back and it feels like every place he touches is a memory seared into his skin of how it feels.
"You too."
Fernando complies and then they're skin on skin, for the first time, like this, and the feeling so glorious. Dan wishes he could record it somehow, and experience it again and again. Fernando is placing kisses on his jaw and the side of his mouth and even though Dan grows more impatient by the second, he relishes the tiny touches and kisses.
"Where did we stop before the food?" Fernando mumbles against his skin and Dan reaches out a hand to tip his head up.
"Right here."
This time around, though, it's Dan taking control of the kiss, slowly but surely walking the two of them out of the kitchen. Not that he doesn't have an adventurous streak or anything, but he'd rather, if this finally - fucking finally - happens, that it's not on top of meatloaf leftovers.
*
Part B