Some Things Never Change
Title: Some Things Never Change
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is not true, I made it all up. All names are just borrowed and they have absolutely nothing to do with what I write.
Author's Notes: Written for the caras_de_pecas Valentine's Day challenge '11. I chose the words dinner, hugs, kisses, love letters & only you. Dan is not a footballer. Fernando is. And yes, Nando plays for Liverpool. I couldn't make Dan a Chelsea-fan :p
I am trying to write the last chapter in my NaNo, please be patient with me! I hate writing endings.
Wordcount: 4,331
Summary: On Valentine's Day Daniel meets someone he hasn't seen in seven years. He would've never imagined.
Dan still watched him whenever he could. In the weekends- if he had the day off from work that was- he'd sit down on the couch and turn on the TV, tune in on one of the sports channels and watch. Hear the magical roar that rose from the stands through gritty speakers, feel his blood boil in excitement for the team he'd been following all his life, all since he moved to Liverpool as a little boy. As always though, the sadness washed over him as he saw the players enter the pitch to the sound of You'll Never Walk Alone. To him there had never been an end of the storm, everything just kept getting worse, it never turned for the better, there had only been more doctors telling him that no, he would not be able to continue his career when he was just sixteen and an aspiring football-player.
He smiled a little when Lucas smartly tricked the ball through and the one boy he'd never really stopped thinking about tripped over his own feet in the hurry to get a hold of it, stumbling into a defender before crashing to the ground. When he pushed himself off the grass he was smiling lightly, waving shortly at the fans, and instantly ran back, ready to take on the next ball that would be aimed in his direction.
More than anything Dan wanted to go to Anfield and see the matches live, but for one he was perpetually low on money, second he didn't have the time and third and finally he was afraid he'd break down crying when all the memories washed back over him.
It had been the one good thing in his life after his parents died in a accident with a drunk driver. Daniel, just three years old, had been given to his uncle and aunt who lived in Liverpool. Working his way into the Academy with great prospects of playing for the first team some day, making friends with the men Dan now saw proudly stepping out at Anfield every week dressed in red.
Especially hard was it to watch Fernando. Because they'd been such great friends, the young Spaniard also moving to England at an early age. They'd found something in one another, a bond which they thought would never break. Played together in the Academy, shared a dream of playing in the Premier League alongside one another.
"I know we'll make it," Fernando grinned, "we're gonna take Europe by storm!"
Fernando had tightened the grip on Daniel's upper arms, stepped closer to him, "together. Promise me that, Dan."
"We're gonna do it," he laughed, "we're gonna be the best. You'll be scoring goals and I'll be in the back."
"You're gonna score goals too!" Fernando's eyes sparkled in the sparse light out on the porch, "you'll be one of the best ball-playing center backs and you'll be up with me sometimes, making amazing goals. And I'll be the first one to celebrate with you!"
"You really think so?" Dan calmed down a little, slipping his arms around the Spaniard's waist and hugging him close.
Fernando hooked his chin over his shoulder and whispered, "I know so."
"Damnit," Dan mumbled to himself and angrily wiped the few tears that had slipped down his cheeks away with the too big sweater he was wearing.
He was twenty-three now, lived by himself in a small apartment in a decent neighborhood. To put it nicely. The walls were thin, the painting in the kitchen smelled slightly moldy and was peeling off the wall, the light and the heat came and went as it pleased. Dan didn't trust any of his neighbors except the lesbian couple in the apartment right across the hall of his. They were pretty cool and didn't fight loudly. Like the guy who lived beneath him, sheesh, what was his problem? Seemingly he brought people home just to pick fights with them. And if all of this wasn't enough his landlord was... not the sharpest tool in the box. And strangely disappeared sometimes just to come back smelling of weed and dumpsters.
Every day Dan went to work, and that he actually enjoyed. It put enough money in his pocket to pay the rent, his phone-bill (not that it was big, he didn't have anyone to call) and food on the table. He was a tattoo-artist and was pretty respected amongst the customers, more often that not people stopped by the shop and asked for him, telling him that their friends had recommended him. By now he was covered in art pretty well too, with his back, sides and both arms finished. Even if he didn't really have a thing for piercings he'd gotten his right nipple done, just because one guy at work had dared him to. And he hadn't bothered removing it, and now Dan actually kind of liked it. Some of the girls and boys he'd been with for the night had seemed to like it as well.
"What a wonderful goal!" the commentator on TV suddenly screamed, "brilliant pass from Gerrard through to Torres, who nearly rips the net apart! No chance for the keeper! Liverpool is in the lead!"
On the screen Fernando ran down the line to the cheer of the fans, throwing his arms around Gerrard's neck, clinging to him with a big grin on his face.
That was supposed to be him.
Even if it hurt Dan watched the entire match before he went to bed, but the second half was slightly blurry in his mind because of the scotch he'd had during half time. In bed Daniel wondered briefly why he tortured himself like this, why he moved back to Liverpool six months ago. Down in Brighton his auntie and uncle still lived, and they'd told him that he was always welcome to stay with them for some time if it was too bad to be back in the city that killed his dreams.
After the accident that revealed a born weakness in his spine and effectively stopped his aspiring career, the little family had moved to Brighton. All the time his aunt had been wanting to move further south, but they stayed back for the sake of Daniel. So, when Dan had not had anything holding him back in Liverpool, they'd packed everything up and sold the house, Dan leaving without telling anyone where he was going. Simple weeks after his sixteenth birthday. He just couldn't, couldn't take the pain of a final goodbye. Not after the conversation he'd had with Fernando right after he'd officially quit the Academy. So he chose to be a coward and ran away.
"I can't do anything about it, Nando," Dan sighed, "unless I want to end up in a wheelchair at thirty I have to quit playing."
"But there's surgery, isn't it?" Fernando partly yelled, fisting the t-shirt he was just about to put in his bag so hard his knuckles went white, "you can't quit!"
"There's nothing I can do, I'm telling you!" Dan was getting annoyed, it had been a long day, hours spent in a sterile hospital with faceless and nameless doctors who ran in and out. Now Fernando was yelling at him too, and Dan didn't have an explanation, couldn't tell him everything was going to be okay.
The Spaniard was silent for a long time, the shirt still in hand. His voice wavered when he spoke and Dan prayed he wouldn't start crying. That he couldn't handle.
"We were supposed to do this together."
"You'll still make it, Nando! Don't make it sound like it's the two of us," the Dane looked down, voice dropping, "you'll be great. And you know Liverpool will always be my club, I'll be in the stands."
"We were supposed to stand behind each other in the tunnel, next to each other out on the pitch. We were going to hear You'll Never Walk Alone down there together-"
"Stop," Dan pleaded weakly.
"-score goals and win matches. Win the league and Champions League, we were going to be kings of Europe, Dan!"
"Would you stop?" Dan shouted, Fernando falling silent instantly, staring at him with slightly red-rimmed eyes, "I will never be a footballer! I can't! My body can't take it!"
And Fernando started crying. At first he was quiet, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Then the small sobs and sniffs began, the stream of tears worsening. He could not deny his heart broke a little, and with three, quick strides Dan pulled his best friend into a crushing hug, Fernando's cries becoming muffled as he pressed his face into Daniel's shoulder.
Dan didn't sleep well, he never did. Not after he'd been watching matches. Fuck, he knew he jumped into it with both feet and did nothing to stop it. He visited these memories because he couldn't forget, subconsciously didn't want to forget. Fernando would never fade in his mind, he was the first person Dan had ever secretly loved. Friendship... then something more. Not that he ever did something about it. Or, well, he did, but that hadn't gone so well. In fact, that was the last time Fernando and he ever spoke. That was seven years ago. Since his career was down the toilet Dan thought 'all or nothing', and he'd given Fernando a letter (which he'd stayed up the entire night writing and pondering over, shedding tears over. Trying to put everything he felt in ink on paper, declaring his love) right before he kissed him quickly. It had been chaste and just a press of dry lips, Fernando had looked shocked, surprised, maybe just a little bit curious. Dan had not stayed to find out, he ran.
* * *
February 14th
Monday morning arrived too quickly and Dan groaned when his alarm went off at seven. Though his bed wasn't too comfortable he rather stay beneath a warm cover instead of stepping out on the cold floor. Today he had better time, and decided to stop by the little coffee-shop on he corner for once. Usually he was so late he jogged past every morning, only smelling the delicious aroma of black coffee.
On with an old t-shirt that almost hung off his shoulder, ripped jeans that didn't fit. Too big around the waist. Thought hit him that he'd probably lost weight, that's why none of his clothes fit anymore. That wasn't a particularly settling thought, he was skinny enough as it was. One look on his calendar made him cringe.
Oh.
It was Valentine's Day today.
Fuck that shit, it was overrated anyways. He pushed down the sarcastic voice in the back of his head which screamed, 'yeah, and you don't think that because you've got no one to share it with'. Then another thought slapped him hard in the face. A few weeks ago his boss had said, 'and don't you dare come in to work the 14th. Take the day off, no clients'. He'd winked at him. Dan had a sneaky feeling his boss really wanted him to get a boyfriend.
Fuck. No work today meant he'd just gotten up for no reason. But, since he was already dressed and craved coffee, he decided to go out anyways, maybe take a walk.
Before twenty minutes had passed Dan was out the door, the bright February sun doing no good for his eyes. There was a slight wind reddening his cheeks and chilling him. Hands in his pockets he crossed the road, eyes on the coffee-shop, stomach clenching uncomfortably with the lack of food. The sky mirrored his mood, grey and cloudy, the prickling sensation of very light rain on his face. When he got inside it worsened, the decorations consisting of heart-shaped chocolates and Valentine's Specials making him want to barf.
Daniel was paying for his coffee, exchanging pleasantries with the cute girl behind the counter for a moment longer than necessary. It felt good to have someone who actually spoke to him with decent interest. He turned to walk, taking a sip of the scolding coffee as he did. And he nearly choked to death on the liquid when he, with horror taking over every cell of his body, saw a man enter the coffee-shop. Beanie pulled far down, jacket with the hoodie on, non-descript clothes and trainers.
Freckles.
It was too obvious the way he stared that the other man had seen him as well. It was almost comical how his brown eyes widened in surprise and recognition. Instantly, after the initial paralyzation, Dan felt the sickest urge to literally run out of the shop.
"Daniel," Fernando breathed, his head going slowly from side to side like he couldn't believe what he was seeing, "Danny."
Finally he decided on the stupidest option and tried to pretend he hadn't heard anything, though it seemed like the rest of the shop had frozen in position, listening and watching them. It was fucking awkward. His feet started moving without him thinking it, and Dan tried to walk to the door but was stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder, a voice that was going slightly hysteric, "Dan!"
"I'm sorry," Dan mumbled, eyes firmly fixed on the door, "you're mistaken."
"Shut the fuck up!" Fernando's voice rose, a note of panic detectable in it, "Daniel Agger, don't fucking pretend you don't remember me!" What few customers that visited the shop at this particular time were staring openly now, no one uttering a word. Two girls were nearly gaping from the couch in the corner, cups of coffee forgotten. Of course everyone recognized Fernando Torres, and this was so out of the ordinary people forgot everything about common decency. Apparently Fernando had too, screaming like an idiot.
Brazing himself Dan sighed and turned, scared to see what expression would be grazing Fernando's features. He sure as hell wasn't ready for this, hadn't counted on ever talking to him again for that matter. How naive, believing destiny wouldn't screw him over like so many times before.
Swallowing hard Dan mumbled, "hi."
"Hi?" Fernando blinked after a few seconds of complete silence, the coffee-shop watching them with wide eyes. You could hear every single sound from the street, could almost make out the conversation between people on the sidewalk. The silence was killing him.
"That's all you've got? Hi?"
Dan gaped, eyes widening in time with the rest of their audience when the Spaniard's cheeks reddened in anger, something that maybe was a few tears welling up in his eyes.
"Seven years, Daniel! And you've got to say to me is 'hi'? You bastard!"
"Ow!" Dan didn't know what to do, he was so surprised and shellshocked he reacted seconds too late when Fernando hit him in the chest. Hard.
"You-"
"Stop," Dan grabbed the Spaniard's wrist and tried to ignore all the stares, "calm down. Let's go outside. Please."
Fernando turned around on the spot and marched out of there like a fucking trooper, and Dan followed quickly, wanting to have the first word. What he didn't need was more accusations and screaming, that didn't do any of them good, especially not when Fernando seemed so frustrated.
"Nando-" Dan said calmly as soon as they were outside, but was cut off when the striker grabbed him and pulled him into a crushing hug, hiding his face in the crook of Daniel's neck, just like he used to do before when he was upset or needed quiet comfort. And just like before, the Dane slid his own arms around him and held him to his body.
"You left me," Fernando stated sadly, voice thin but steady, "you said you wouldn't, but you did, you left. And you didn't even tell me."
Maybe it was inconsiderate, but Dan really didn't want to cut into old wounds, "please don't."
"You can't tell me that," Fernando said in that same, low voice, "do you know how it fucked me up? I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, it was so bad the coach pulled me aside and told me that I needed to keep it together or else they'd just have to put me off the team. I've missed you so much, and you didn't even bother to call, Daniel, not once. You changed your fucking number."
Guiltily the Dane swallowed and began weakly, "I just needed to get away from it all... You should understand-"
"I do, I get it, but..." Fernando was quiet for a long moment, lifting his head and making eye-contact, "if you ran so easily... didn't the kiss mean anything?"
Dan froze, too scared to look away, too scared to speak, frightened to ruin something he feared was already broken with even dumber words.
"Nothing could make me forget," the Spaniard continued, bringing one hand up to touch Dan's cheek, but let it fall awkwardly down again when Dan jerked back slightly.
"I don't want to talk about it," the Dane mumbled, trying to step away from Fernando and out of the hug, but that was not Fernando's plan.
"When did you change?"
"What?"
"You used to go for whatever you wanted, you were never too scared to do anything."
It changed when I fell in love with you.
"Please, answer me, did you ever have feelings for me?"
The letter.
"Nando-" Dan's eyes widened, and he tried walking back, Fernando letting him out of the hug, but kept a firm grip on his wrist. It all got worse when the Spaniard's eyes seemed to go blank and his voice wavered slightly.
"Because I was so in love with you," he had to stop for a moment, face hardening while he sported a self-mocking smile, "and when you kissed me I thought, 'finally!', and I wanted to kiss you back, wanted to smile and laugh, but-" he breathed out hard "-you never let me! And I've never, ever been able to forget." A short, angry laugh escaped him before he drew a shuddery breath.
There was nothing but uncomfortable, stale silence between them for a minute, then Fernando yelled, "Dan! Don't pretend, I'm fucking fishing for an answer I already know! Maybe you don't feel that way anymore, hell, that's understandable, but he honest with me. For once!"
"I don't know what you're talking about-"
"I still have your letter," Fernando bit his lip hard, desperate not to shed a tear, "I still have it, I've read it so many times the paper is falling apart. You know what it says. Just stop pretending!"
So Dan kissed him.
It was pretty desperate, not particularly good and Dan would be embarrassed about himself later. He pushed forward to quick, Fernando was startled and went rigid, his head jerking back to avert the uncomfortable pressure, their noses bumped. No finesse and no delicacy, but Dan poured every apology and every regret into it, the things he didn't have enough time to voice and put in words.
The awkwardness somewhat subsided, there was lips moving against his own now. Dan grabbed Fernando's hip, pulling him closer, their feet shuffling on the sidewalk, doing an awkward dance to not step on each other's toes. Something wet touched his cheek, tears, and the Dane sighed into the kiss, opening his mouth and offering everything he had to Fernando, which he took.
"Don't do this to me again," the Spaniard mumbled against his lips, eyes still tightly screwed shut.
* * *
They went out to dinner that night. Among sickly cheesy couples who were wrapped up in one another so tightly dinner was nearly forgotten. Awkwardly Dan and Fernando had been sitting right next to a giant, baby pink bow that was hung up on the wall, screaming 'Happy Valentine's!" at them with glaring, bright pink letters. Dan had never been fond of pink, and now it triggered something mean in him. The waiter eyed them suspiciously when he took their order, probably wondering what Fernando Torres was doing out with a guy on Valentine's Day when he should be spending it with some ridiculously pretty girl.
"Are you okay?" Fernando asked quietly after finishing his pasta, placing the cutlery on the plate as he did. Eyes flickering nervously, expression apprehensive.
"Yeah," Dan nodded slowly, "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."
Underneath the table warm fingers nudged him and moved their way to clutch around Dan's hand, holding it tightly.
"I meant what I said, you know. I never forgot. I missed you," the Spaniard looked down in the table, but his hand stayed, reassuring and a silent proof.
"I missed you too," was all Dan offered.
* * *
After five minutes of begging that wasn't really begging, excessive puppy eyes and a tone in Fernando's voice that tipped dangerously close to desperation, Dan agreed. They left in a cab, the entire ride in thick silence that left them both plenty of time to analyze the situation and ponder what the hell was going to happen later. Still in silence they entered Fernando's house, and it was wearing Dan down quicker than anything he'd ever experienced. Made him want to just do something, anything, to break the quietness and fill it with sound and life.
Sighing Fernando turned to him after slipping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes, and Dan jumped on the opportunity like there was no tomorrow. He had nothing to loose. A small sound escaped Fernando right before Dan pressed their lips together and placed careful, yet firm hands on the Spaniard's hips.
* * *
There was another kind of silence as their eyes locked in confirmation, warm skin against warm skin with Fernando straddling Dan's lap. The tinge of sadness in Fernando's smile that Dan just wanted to go away, wanted to make it disappear, erase these past years when he'd been stupid as stupid gets. Why he ever left this behind. What they could have been by now.
Low, deep, perfect; the noise that eventually broke the silence as Dan pushed his hips up the slightest and felt the warm slickness close around him, Fernando moulding his body against his. So close, still wrapped up in one another, arms tightening. They moved in such a beautiful rhythm, Dan didn't think he'd ever experienced it liked this before.
"O-oh," Fernando's breath hitched and he leaned his forehead on the Dane's shoulder, body shuddering in his arms as he came closer, small beads of sweat trickling down his back. Together they stuttered out a last moan, clinging to one another, grasping for purchase on sweat-slick skin.
* * *
"You have no plans on leaving Liverpool again, have you?" Fernando asked, drawing circles on Dan's chest on top of the thin sweater that hung too loosely on his body. They were on the couch, both tired and worn out, ready to give into the urge of sleep. It had been a long, exhausting day, their lives suddenly on a completely different path than just twelve hours ago.
"No," Dan answered sincerely.
"It was only ever you, you know," Fernando snuggled into Dan's embrace, nose digging into the Dane skin right above his collarbone.
Not needing to hear another word Dan tipped the other man's chin up with two, gentle fingers. They kissed slowly, tongues dipping in curiously, like it was their first kiss all over again. Fleetingly Daniel thought that this was how a first kiss should be. Fernando's and his first kiss should've been like this, not a quick, not-actually-a-kiss and scared peck.
"Don't go home tonight."
"I won't."
A kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth and drew a smile from him.
"Alright."
"Alright," Dan mumbled, kissing Fernando's temple, fingers finding skin just beneath the hem of the Spaniard's t-shirt. He nudged it softly, felt the heat radiating off of it, then rested the hand on the bare hip.
"We'll figure something out," Fernando continued after a short silence, "I just don't want to loose you again, Danny."
"Tomorrow," Dan's eyelids drooped slightly, his body feeling sluggish and tired and comfortable, and he succumbed to it, and felt Fernando sag even closer to him.
"Oh, and Dan?" the Spaniard voice was distant, slightly amused, but also sounding sleepy.
"What?" he mumbled.
"Happy Valentine's, I guess."
"Yeah..." Dan answered thoughtfully, but a smiled grazed his lips before he could stop it. How funny, he'd been hating on this day for so many years and now it united him with Fernando. How strange he would have to look back at Valentine's Day and thank it for giving him back what he'd lost those years ago. And he was set on keeping it this time, Fernando deserved someone loving and committed and faithful, and Daniel would be strong for him if he was just wanted.
And by the way Fernando curled up against him and held onto him like he was afraid Dan would run away again, hands tightening in his sweater, Daniel felt wanted.
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is not true, I made it all up. All names are just borrowed and they have absolutely nothing to do with what I write.
Author's Notes: Written for the caras_de_pecas Valentine's Day challenge '11. I chose the words dinner, hugs, kisses, love letters & only you. Dan is not a footballer. Fernando is. And yes, Nando plays for Liverpool. I couldn't make Dan a Chelsea-fan :p
I am trying to write the last chapter in my NaNo, please be patient with me! I hate writing endings.
Wordcount: 4,331
Summary: On Valentine's Day Daniel meets someone he hasn't seen in seven years. He would've never imagined.
Dan still watched him whenever he could. In the weekends- if he had the day off from work that was- he'd sit down on the couch and turn on the TV, tune in on one of the sports channels and watch. Hear the magical roar that rose from the stands through gritty speakers, feel his blood boil in excitement for the team he'd been following all his life, all since he moved to Liverpool as a little boy. As always though, the sadness washed over him as he saw the players enter the pitch to the sound of You'll Never Walk Alone. To him there had never been an end of the storm, everything just kept getting worse, it never turned for the better, there had only been more doctors telling him that no, he would not be able to continue his career when he was just sixteen and an aspiring football-player.
He smiled a little when Lucas smartly tricked the ball through and the one boy he'd never really stopped thinking about tripped over his own feet in the hurry to get a hold of it, stumbling into a defender before crashing to the ground. When he pushed himself off the grass he was smiling lightly, waving shortly at the fans, and instantly ran back, ready to take on the next ball that would be aimed in his direction.
More than anything Dan wanted to go to Anfield and see the matches live, but for one he was perpetually low on money, second he didn't have the time and third and finally he was afraid he'd break down crying when all the memories washed back over him.
It had been the one good thing in his life after his parents died in a accident with a drunk driver. Daniel, just three years old, had been given to his uncle and aunt who lived in Liverpool. Working his way into the Academy with great prospects of playing for the first team some day, making friends with the men Dan now saw proudly stepping out at Anfield every week dressed in red.
Especially hard was it to watch Fernando. Because they'd been such great friends, the young Spaniard also moving to England at an early age. They'd found something in one another, a bond which they thought would never break. Played together in the Academy, shared a dream of playing in the Premier League alongside one another.
"I know we'll make it," Fernando grinned, "we're gonna take Europe by storm!"
Fernando had tightened the grip on Daniel's upper arms, stepped closer to him, "together. Promise me that, Dan."
"We're gonna do it," he laughed, "we're gonna be the best. You'll be scoring goals and I'll be in the back."
"You're gonna score goals too!" Fernando's eyes sparkled in the sparse light out on the porch, "you'll be one of the best ball-playing center backs and you'll be up with me sometimes, making amazing goals. And I'll be the first one to celebrate with you!"
"You really think so?" Dan calmed down a little, slipping his arms around the Spaniard's waist and hugging him close.
Fernando hooked his chin over his shoulder and whispered, "I know so."
"Damnit," Dan mumbled to himself and angrily wiped the few tears that had slipped down his cheeks away with the too big sweater he was wearing.
He was twenty-three now, lived by himself in a small apartment in a decent neighborhood. To put it nicely. The walls were thin, the painting in the kitchen smelled slightly moldy and was peeling off the wall, the light and the heat came and went as it pleased. Dan didn't trust any of his neighbors except the lesbian couple in the apartment right across the hall of his. They were pretty cool and didn't fight loudly. Like the guy who lived beneath him, sheesh, what was his problem? Seemingly he brought people home just to pick fights with them. And if all of this wasn't enough his landlord was... not the sharpest tool in the box. And strangely disappeared sometimes just to come back smelling of weed and dumpsters.
Every day Dan went to work, and that he actually enjoyed. It put enough money in his pocket to pay the rent, his phone-bill (not that it was big, he didn't have anyone to call) and food on the table. He was a tattoo-artist and was pretty respected amongst the customers, more often that not people stopped by the shop and asked for him, telling him that their friends had recommended him. By now he was covered in art pretty well too, with his back, sides and both arms finished. Even if he didn't really have a thing for piercings he'd gotten his right nipple done, just because one guy at work had dared him to. And he hadn't bothered removing it, and now Dan actually kind of liked it. Some of the girls and boys he'd been with for the night had seemed to like it as well.
"What a wonderful goal!" the commentator on TV suddenly screamed, "brilliant pass from Gerrard through to Torres, who nearly rips the net apart! No chance for the keeper! Liverpool is in the lead!"
On the screen Fernando ran down the line to the cheer of the fans, throwing his arms around Gerrard's neck, clinging to him with a big grin on his face.
That was supposed to be him.
Even if it hurt Dan watched the entire match before he went to bed, but the second half was slightly blurry in his mind because of the scotch he'd had during half time. In bed Daniel wondered briefly why he tortured himself like this, why he moved back to Liverpool six months ago. Down in Brighton his auntie and uncle still lived, and they'd told him that he was always welcome to stay with them for some time if it was too bad to be back in the city that killed his dreams.
After the accident that revealed a born weakness in his spine and effectively stopped his aspiring career, the little family had moved to Brighton. All the time his aunt had been wanting to move further south, but they stayed back for the sake of Daniel. So, when Dan had not had anything holding him back in Liverpool, they'd packed everything up and sold the house, Dan leaving without telling anyone where he was going. Simple weeks after his sixteenth birthday. He just couldn't, couldn't take the pain of a final goodbye. Not after the conversation he'd had with Fernando right after he'd officially quit the Academy. So he chose to be a coward and ran away.
"I can't do anything about it, Nando," Dan sighed, "unless I want to end up in a wheelchair at thirty I have to quit playing."
"But there's surgery, isn't it?" Fernando partly yelled, fisting the t-shirt he was just about to put in his bag so hard his knuckles went white, "you can't quit!"
"There's nothing I can do, I'm telling you!" Dan was getting annoyed, it had been a long day, hours spent in a sterile hospital with faceless and nameless doctors who ran in and out. Now Fernando was yelling at him too, and Dan didn't have an explanation, couldn't tell him everything was going to be okay.
The Spaniard was silent for a long time, the shirt still in hand. His voice wavered when he spoke and Dan prayed he wouldn't start crying. That he couldn't handle.
"We were supposed to do this together."
"You'll still make it, Nando! Don't make it sound like it's the two of us," the Dane looked down, voice dropping, "you'll be great. And you know Liverpool will always be my club, I'll be in the stands."
"We were supposed to stand behind each other in the tunnel, next to each other out on the pitch. We were going to hear You'll Never Walk Alone down there together-"
"Stop," Dan pleaded weakly.
"-score goals and win matches. Win the league and Champions League, we were going to be kings of Europe, Dan!"
"Would you stop?" Dan shouted, Fernando falling silent instantly, staring at him with slightly red-rimmed eyes, "I will never be a footballer! I can't! My body can't take it!"
And Fernando started crying. At first he was quiet, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Then the small sobs and sniffs began, the stream of tears worsening. He could not deny his heart broke a little, and with three, quick strides Dan pulled his best friend into a crushing hug, Fernando's cries becoming muffled as he pressed his face into Daniel's shoulder.
Dan didn't sleep well, he never did. Not after he'd been watching matches. Fuck, he knew he jumped into it with both feet and did nothing to stop it. He visited these memories because he couldn't forget, subconsciously didn't want to forget. Fernando would never fade in his mind, he was the first person Dan had ever secretly loved. Friendship... then something more. Not that he ever did something about it. Or, well, he did, but that hadn't gone so well. In fact, that was the last time Fernando and he ever spoke. That was seven years ago. Since his career was down the toilet Dan thought 'all or nothing', and he'd given Fernando a letter (which he'd stayed up the entire night writing and pondering over, shedding tears over. Trying to put everything he felt in ink on paper, declaring his love) right before he kissed him quickly. It had been chaste and just a press of dry lips, Fernando had looked shocked, surprised, maybe just a little bit curious. Dan had not stayed to find out, he ran.
* * *
February 14th
Monday morning arrived too quickly and Dan groaned when his alarm went off at seven. Though his bed wasn't too comfortable he rather stay beneath a warm cover instead of stepping out on the cold floor. Today he had better time, and decided to stop by the little coffee-shop on he corner for once. Usually he was so late he jogged past every morning, only smelling the delicious aroma of black coffee.
On with an old t-shirt that almost hung off his shoulder, ripped jeans that didn't fit. Too big around the waist. Thought hit him that he'd probably lost weight, that's why none of his clothes fit anymore. That wasn't a particularly settling thought, he was skinny enough as it was. One look on his calendar made him cringe.
Oh.
It was Valentine's Day today.
Fuck that shit, it was overrated anyways. He pushed down the sarcastic voice in the back of his head which screamed, 'yeah, and you don't think that because you've got no one to share it with'. Then another thought slapped him hard in the face. A few weeks ago his boss had said, 'and don't you dare come in to work the 14th. Take the day off, no clients'. He'd winked at him. Dan had a sneaky feeling his boss really wanted him to get a boyfriend.
Fuck. No work today meant he'd just gotten up for no reason. But, since he was already dressed and craved coffee, he decided to go out anyways, maybe take a walk.
Before twenty minutes had passed Dan was out the door, the bright February sun doing no good for his eyes. There was a slight wind reddening his cheeks and chilling him. Hands in his pockets he crossed the road, eyes on the coffee-shop, stomach clenching uncomfortably with the lack of food. The sky mirrored his mood, grey and cloudy, the prickling sensation of very light rain on his face. When he got inside it worsened, the decorations consisting of heart-shaped chocolates and Valentine's Specials making him want to barf.
Daniel was paying for his coffee, exchanging pleasantries with the cute girl behind the counter for a moment longer than necessary. It felt good to have someone who actually spoke to him with decent interest. He turned to walk, taking a sip of the scolding coffee as he did. And he nearly choked to death on the liquid when he, with horror taking over every cell of his body, saw a man enter the coffee-shop. Beanie pulled far down, jacket with the hoodie on, non-descript clothes and trainers.
Freckles.
It was too obvious the way he stared that the other man had seen him as well. It was almost comical how his brown eyes widened in surprise and recognition. Instantly, after the initial paralyzation, Dan felt the sickest urge to literally run out of the shop.
"Daniel," Fernando breathed, his head going slowly from side to side like he couldn't believe what he was seeing, "Danny."
Finally he decided on the stupidest option and tried to pretend he hadn't heard anything, though it seemed like the rest of the shop had frozen in position, listening and watching them. It was fucking awkward. His feet started moving without him thinking it, and Dan tried to walk to the door but was stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder, a voice that was going slightly hysteric, "Dan!"
"I'm sorry," Dan mumbled, eyes firmly fixed on the door, "you're mistaken."
"Shut the fuck up!" Fernando's voice rose, a note of panic detectable in it, "Daniel Agger, don't fucking pretend you don't remember me!" What few customers that visited the shop at this particular time were staring openly now, no one uttering a word. Two girls were nearly gaping from the couch in the corner, cups of coffee forgotten. Of course everyone recognized Fernando Torres, and this was so out of the ordinary people forgot everything about common decency. Apparently Fernando had too, screaming like an idiot.
Brazing himself Dan sighed and turned, scared to see what expression would be grazing Fernando's features. He sure as hell wasn't ready for this, hadn't counted on ever talking to him again for that matter. How naive, believing destiny wouldn't screw him over like so many times before.
Swallowing hard Dan mumbled, "hi."
"Hi?" Fernando blinked after a few seconds of complete silence, the coffee-shop watching them with wide eyes. You could hear every single sound from the street, could almost make out the conversation between people on the sidewalk. The silence was killing him.
"That's all you've got? Hi?"
Dan gaped, eyes widening in time with the rest of their audience when the Spaniard's cheeks reddened in anger, something that maybe was a few tears welling up in his eyes.
"Seven years, Daniel! And you've got to say to me is 'hi'? You bastard!"
"Ow!" Dan didn't know what to do, he was so surprised and shellshocked he reacted seconds too late when Fernando hit him in the chest. Hard.
"You-"
"Stop," Dan grabbed the Spaniard's wrist and tried to ignore all the stares, "calm down. Let's go outside. Please."
Fernando turned around on the spot and marched out of there like a fucking trooper, and Dan followed quickly, wanting to have the first word. What he didn't need was more accusations and screaming, that didn't do any of them good, especially not when Fernando seemed so frustrated.
"Nando-" Dan said calmly as soon as they were outside, but was cut off when the striker grabbed him and pulled him into a crushing hug, hiding his face in the crook of Daniel's neck, just like he used to do before when he was upset or needed quiet comfort. And just like before, the Dane slid his own arms around him and held him to his body.
"You left me," Fernando stated sadly, voice thin but steady, "you said you wouldn't, but you did, you left. And you didn't even tell me."
Maybe it was inconsiderate, but Dan really didn't want to cut into old wounds, "please don't."
"You can't tell me that," Fernando said in that same, low voice, "do you know how it fucked me up? I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, it was so bad the coach pulled me aside and told me that I needed to keep it together or else they'd just have to put me off the team. I've missed you so much, and you didn't even bother to call, Daniel, not once. You changed your fucking number."
Guiltily the Dane swallowed and began weakly, "I just needed to get away from it all... You should understand-"
"I do, I get it, but..." Fernando was quiet for a long moment, lifting his head and making eye-contact, "if you ran so easily... didn't the kiss mean anything?"
Dan froze, too scared to look away, too scared to speak, frightened to ruin something he feared was already broken with even dumber words.
"Nothing could make me forget," the Spaniard continued, bringing one hand up to touch Dan's cheek, but let it fall awkwardly down again when Dan jerked back slightly.
"I don't want to talk about it," the Dane mumbled, trying to step away from Fernando and out of the hug, but that was not Fernando's plan.
"When did you change?"
"What?"
"You used to go for whatever you wanted, you were never too scared to do anything."
It changed when I fell in love with you.
"Please, answer me, did you ever have feelings for me?"
The letter.
"Nando-" Dan's eyes widened, and he tried walking back, Fernando letting him out of the hug, but kept a firm grip on his wrist. It all got worse when the Spaniard's eyes seemed to go blank and his voice wavered slightly.
"Because I was so in love with you," he had to stop for a moment, face hardening while he sported a self-mocking smile, "and when you kissed me I thought, 'finally!', and I wanted to kiss you back, wanted to smile and laugh, but-" he breathed out hard "-you never let me! And I've never, ever been able to forget." A short, angry laugh escaped him before he drew a shuddery breath.
There was nothing but uncomfortable, stale silence between them for a minute, then Fernando yelled, "Dan! Don't pretend, I'm fucking fishing for an answer I already know! Maybe you don't feel that way anymore, hell, that's understandable, but he honest with me. For once!"
"I don't know what you're talking about-"
"I still have your letter," Fernando bit his lip hard, desperate not to shed a tear, "I still have it, I've read it so many times the paper is falling apart. You know what it says. Just stop pretending!"
So Dan kissed him.
It was pretty desperate, not particularly good and Dan would be embarrassed about himself later. He pushed forward to quick, Fernando was startled and went rigid, his head jerking back to avert the uncomfortable pressure, their noses bumped. No finesse and no delicacy, but Dan poured every apology and every regret into it, the things he didn't have enough time to voice and put in words.
The awkwardness somewhat subsided, there was lips moving against his own now. Dan grabbed Fernando's hip, pulling him closer, their feet shuffling on the sidewalk, doing an awkward dance to not step on each other's toes. Something wet touched his cheek, tears, and the Dane sighed into the kiss, opening his mouth and offering everything he had to Fernando, which he took.
"Don't do this to me again," the Spaniard mumbled against his lips, eyes still tightly screwed shut.
* * *
They went out to dinner that night. Among sickly cheesy couples who were wrapped up in one another so tightly dinner was nearly forgotten. Awkwardly Dan and Fernando had been sitting right next to a giant, baby pink bow that was hung up on the wall, screaming 'Happy Valentine's!" at them with glaring, bright pink letters. Dan had never been fond of pink, and now it triggered something mean in him. The waiter eyed them suspiciously when he took their order, probably wondering what Fernando Torres was doing out with a guy on Valentine's Day when he should be spending it with some ridiculously pretty girl.
"Are you okay?" Fernando asked quietly after finishing his pasta, placing the cutlery on the plate as he did. Eyes flickering nervously, expression apprehensive.
"Yeah," Dan nodded slowly, "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."
Underneath the table warm fingers nudged him and moved their way to clutch around Dan's hand, holding it tightly.
"I meant what I said, you know. I never forgot. I missed you," the Spaniard looked down in the table, but his hand stayed, reassuring and a silent proof.
"I missed you too," was all Dan offered.
* * *
After five minutes of begging that wasn't really begging, excessive puppy eyes and a tone in Fernando's voice that tipped dangerously close to desperation, Dan agreed. They left in a cab, the entire ride in thick silence that left them both plenty of time to analyze the situation and ponder what the hell was going to happen later. Still in silence they entered Fernando's house, and it was wearing Dan down quicker than anything he'd ever experienced. Made him want to just do something, anything, to break the quietness and fill it with sound and life.
Sighing Fernando turned to him after slipping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes, and Dan jumped on the opportunity like there was no tomorrow. He had nothing to loose. A small sound escaped Fernando right before Dan pressed their lips together and placed careful, yet firm hands on the Spaniard's hips.
* * *
There was another kind of silence as their eyes locked in confirmation, warm skin against warm skin with Fernando straddling Dan's lap. The tinge of sadness in Fernando's smile that Dan just wanted to go away, wanted to make it disappear, erase these past years when he'd been stupid as stupid gets. Why he ever left this behind. What they could have been by now.
Low, deep, perfect; the noise that eventually broke the silence as Dan pushed his hips up the slightest and felt the warm slickness close around him, Fernando moulding his body against his. So close, still wrapped up in one another, arms tightening. They moved in such a beautiful rhythm, Dan didn't think he'd ever experienced it liked this before.
"O-oh," Fernando's breath hitched and he leaned his forehead on the Dane's shoulder, body shuddering in his arms as he came closer, small beads of sweat trickling down his back. Together they stuttered out a last moan, clinging to one another, grasping for purchase on sweat-slick skin.
* * *
"You have no plans on leaving Liverpool again, have you?" Fernando asked, drawing circles on Dan's chest on top of the thin sweater that hung too loosely on his body. They were on the couch, both tired and worn out, ready to give into the urge of sleep. It had been a long, exhausting day, their lives suddenly on a completely different path than just twelve hours ago.
"No," Dan answered sincerely.
"It was only ever you, you know," Fernando snuggled into Dan's embrace, nose digging into the Dane skin right above his collarbone.
Not needing to hear another word Dan tipped the other man's chin up with two, gentle fingers. They kissed slowly, tongues dipping in curiously, like it was their first kiss all over again. Fleetingly Daniel thought that this was how a first kiss should be. Fernando's and his first kiss should've been like this, not a quick, not-actually-a-kiss and scared peck.
"Don't go home tonight."
"I won't."
A kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth and drew a smile from him.
"Alright."
"Alright," Dan mumbled, kissing Fernando's temple, fingers finding skin just beneath the hem of the Spaniard's t-shirt. He nudged it softly, felt the heat radiating off of it, then rested the hand on the bare hip.
"We'll figure something out," Fernando continued after a short silence, "I just don't want to loose you again, Danny."
"Tomorrow," Dan's eyelids drooped slightly, his body feeling sluggish and tired and comfortable, and he succumbed to it, and felt Fernando sag even closer to him.
"Oh, and Dan?" the Spaniard voice was distant, slightly amused, but also sounding sleepy.
"What?" he mumbled.
"Happy Valentine's, I guess."
"Yeah..." Dan answered thoughtfully, but a smiled grazed his lips before he could stop it. How funny, he'd been hating on this day for so many years and now it united him with Fernando. How strange he would have to look back at Valentine's Day and thank it for giving him back what he'd lost those years ago. And he was set on keeping it this time, Fernando deserved someone loving and committed and faithful, and Daniel would be strong for him if he was just wanted.
And by the way Fernando curled up against him and held onto him like he was afraid Dan would run away again, hands tightening in his sweater, Daniel felt wanted.