Pasta, Wine and Football 1/2
Language English
Fandom Football
Characters Markel Susaeta & Óscar De Marcos
Words 6.530
Summary Markel met, kissed and got a date with Óscar during an incident with red wine and Markel’s favourite light grey shirt. This is the story of their date. Sequel to ‘Of Books and Wine’.
Rating PG-13
Beta'ed No
Disclaimer This is all in my head and in no way meant to be real.
Note This is a sequel to ‘Of Books and Wine’ and I would really recommend reading that first before this one, the sequel can’t stand on its own. Devided into two parts because since when can I keep my stories short?
And for all my readers, prettige Kerstdagen!
Pasta, Wine and Football
Markel fiddled nervously with his long sleeved button-up shirt, smoothening the fabric down with his hands, making sure all imaginary wrinkles were out off his ironed shirt. He ran a hand through his still damp hair before styling it with some gel. He tugged on a strand that started to curl, getting too long, and Markel frowned at his reflection.
His hair was too long and he wasn’t sure about the navy blue shirt he was wearing. But it was ten to seven and the walk to the cafe took
at least five minutes. He sighed and dapped some cologne on his neck. He checked his appearance one last time, hair styled like always, the longer strands curling in his neck. He had shaved the scruff of the last few days away, leaving his skin smooth and clean again.
Deeming it the best he could do in such a short space of time, he left the bathroom and grabbed his wallet and phone, slipping them into the pockets of his tight dark jeans. He draped a scarf around his neck as the nights in Bilbao were cold and pulled his coat on. He checked his watch, cursing when he saw the time and stepped out of his apartment, closing the door behind him and locking it, slipping the keys into his pocket.
He stuffed his hands inside his coat as he exited his apartment building, the November air outside frisk, the sky orange and pink from the setting sun. He buried his nose into his scarf as he quickened his pace, only a few blocks away from the cafe.
He checked the time again when he turned the last corner, smiling when he saw it was exactly seven o’clock. Light was spilling out of the cafe onto the street, casting shadows onto the pavement and Markel walked closer, feeling slightly nervous when he didn’t see Óscar. He snuggled deeper into his coat and scarf as he leaned against the wall, trying to keep warm while he waited for the cute waiter.
The dusk was fading away, the sky turning darker and the air colder when the sun disappeared and Markel smiled when he saw someone walk towards the cafe from the opposite direction. He pushed himself away from the wall, hiding his smile into his scarf as he watched Óscar approach.
The waiter was wearing a long black coat and a knitted hat. Markel could see his nose was red when Óscar stepped into the light of the cafe and he smiled wider.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he uttered, breath visible.
“’s not a problem.” Markel wasn’t sure what to do now that they saw each other again. Kiss him, give him a hug? He scuffed his foot over the pavement, nervous butterflies flapping in his stomach. Óscar took a hesitance step forward, wrapping his arms around Markel for a quick hug, brushing his lips over Markel’s cheek in a chaste kiss. Markel beamed at him when the waiter pulled away, just as the door behind them opened.
“Óscar, what are you... ooh, hello.” Markel turned around to find the waiter who had watched over his possessions earlier today. He was leering at them, a smug smile on his face as he threw a bag over a shoulder, pulling black gloves on.
“Ander, hey,” Óscar muttered back, moving to stand besides Markel, brushing their arms together.
“So,” Ander dragged the ‘o’ out, still smirking at them. “what are you two doing here?”
“We are going on a date,” Óscar replied and Ander started to smile wider.
“Oh, so that is why you took him to the back today. I see. Wait until I tell Iker about this, Ander’s voice was gleeful and Markel noticed he actually was rubbing his hands together. He heard Óscar sigh next to him and Markel was reminded of his own friends who no doubt would pester him if they knew about this.
“Yes, a date. Actually, we should be going,” Markel told Ander, smiling at Óscar as he turned away from Ander.
“Have fun you two!” Ander called after them as Óscar turned around to after a quick wave to Ander.
“Thanks!” Óscar called back over his shoulder, taking a couple of quick steps so he was next to Markel, their arms occasionally brushing together as they walked side by side.
They were almost at the corner when Ander shouted “do it safe!” at them as he cycled past them. Markel immediately blushed a deep red while Óscar tensed, muttering “I’m going to kill him” under his breath.
A tense silence formed between them as Markel led the way to the restaurant. He had hoped that the evening would be successful, had tidied his apartment in case Óscar wanted to go home with him but to have Ander put is so crude made Markel blush and second guess himself, butterflies in his stomach as he glanced over at Óscar, looking away again before the other man could catch his looking.
“I... sorry about Ander.” Óscar broke the silence eventually, scratching the back of his head and Markel had to smile, recognizing it as a nervous habit.
Don’t worry about it. If my friends would be here, they would do the same as Ander.” Markel laughed, bumping his shoulder against Óscar and the other man smiled, white teeth flashing in the dark and Markel’s stomach made a flip. He was glad this street was dark so Óscar couldn’t see him blushing.
“It could have been worse, I suppose,” Óscar mumbled and Markel shot him a confused look.
“Iker could have been there too,” Óscar elaborated, continuing when Markel still looked confused. “Iker and Ander are best friends and together they are ten times worse than one of them apart. God, they are going to pester me to death next time I see them.”
Markel chuckled and Óscar laid a hand on his shoulder, making him stop and look at him questioningly. The lamp near them cast enough light for Markel to make out Óscar, blue eyes bright and a faint red tint on his cheeks as he leaned closer, kissing him soft and quick. He was blushing harder when he pulled away, almost as red as his nose still was.
“Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that ever since you left that bathroom,” Óscar muttered and Markel smiled at his after he got over his shock, a warm feeling pooling in his stomach. He shifted on his feet, pecking Óscar’s lips, grinning slightly bashful when he stepped away.
“Me too,” he answered softly, making Óscar smile at him. Markel looked down, trying in vain to stop blushing.
“We should hurry a bit. I made reservations for seven thirty and we are almost late,” he explained as he started walking again, Óscar catching up with him with a few quick strides.
“You made reservations?” He asked, sounding surprised and Markel wasn’t sure if that was a good surprised or a bad surprised.
“Yeah... it usually isn’t that busy but I wanted to be sure there would be place for us,” he mumbled in explanation and Óscar uttered a soft “ah”. Markel glanced over at him and decided it was a good surprised when he saw the faint smile on Óscar’s face, his lips curling up. The other man glanced over at him and Markel looked away quickly. The waiter chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Markel’s, letting their arms brush together.
“Here it is.” Markel gestured to a restaurant a few metres ahead of them, warm orange light spilling onto the street together with soft music. He glanced over at Óscar to judge his reaction. This was one of Markel’s favourite restaurant with a cosy atmosphere and a good quality of food. And Markel really wanted this date to succeed. Not only because he wanted to make out with Óscar again but also because he genuinely liked what he saw. Óscar seemed like a sweet guy, maybe a bit shy but that suited Markel’s taste perfectly.
“It looks cosy,” Óscar replied, smiling at Markel and Markel hid his pleased smile in his scarf.
They stepped inside, into the warmth of the restaurant and Markel looked up again, no longer hiding into his scarf. A women was standing behind the counter, already looking at them and Markel smiled when he recognized Erika, one of the restaurant owners. He walked closer, Óscar following him, and grinned at Erika when she noticed him.
“Markel! How good to see you again. How is your research coming alone?” She reached over the counter, pulling Markel in a hug and kissed his cheeks.
“It is going well but it is tiring work,” he replied, leaning on the counter. He felt Óscar step closer to him and he smiled when their coats brushed together. Erika looked past him at Óscar and Markel groaned when he saw the teasing glint appear in her eyes.
“We have a reservation,” he said quickly, trying to stop Erika from making a comment about Óscar.
“Ooh, you have a date with the handsome lad behind you?” Markel blushed and looked down at the counter to study the pattern of the wood.
“Yeah,” he muttered, glancing at Óscar and smiling again, sure that his cheeks were red again. He cursed his ability to blush so easily and looked back at Erika.
“Well then, let me show you to your table,” Erika smiled and stepped away from the counter, gesturing that they should follow her.
She led them to a table in the back where the lighting was dimmed and the tables further apart, ensuring a bit more privacy for the guests. Erika lit the candle that was on the table and picked the sign with ‘reservation’ up from the table.
“Here you go. There will be someone with you shortly to take your order for drinks and here is our menu.” She placed two familiar leather-bounded menu book on the table and walked away after whispering “go for it” in Markel’s ear.
He glared at her and busied himself with taking his coat off, hoping that Óscar hadn’t heard what Erika had whispered. He draped his coat over his chair and looked over at Óscar, pausing what he was doing when he saw what Óscar was wearing.
A tight crème coloured sweater that didn’t hide the muscles in his chest and arms with dark jeans that fitted him perfectly. The candle light cast an orange glow over Óscar, shadows on his face that made his cheekbones stand out, the flame was reflected in his blue eyes. He was so very handsome like this and Markel wondered how he had gotten so lucky to go on a date with someone this stunning.
Markel shook his head and took his scarf off, hanging it over his coat and made sure it wouldn’t slip down before he sat down, Óscar doing sitting down too. Soft music was drifting from speakers somewhere behind them, smooth voices singing with a Spanish guitar on the background.
“You come here often?” Óscar asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them while he opened the menu, its spine creaking.
“Yeah. I stumbled inside the first week I started studying here, all alone in the big city and I was lost. I asked Erika for directions but she took one look at me and told me to sit down and let her feed me. I try to come here as often as I can when my schedule and money allows me to.” Markel smiled softly as he told the story, thinking back to that day. He had felt so scared then and was very grateful that Erika had fed him and made him feel home in a strange new city.
“Excuse me,” A girl stood next to their table, all smiles. “Hi, my name is Irene and I will be your waitress for tonight. Would you gentlemen like something to drink?” She was holding a notepad and Markel was reminded of how he met Óscar. He grinned at him over the table before looking down at his menu, quickly reading through the drinks they offered.
“I will have a coke.” Óscar ordered first and Markel ordered a sprite. Irene smiled and jotted it down on her notepad, walking away with a slight bounce in her step.
“What do you study? I saw you working today with all those books around you.” Óscar wondered as he put his menu card down, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at Markel.
“Cultural studies. I know, it sounds boring but it is really interesting. I am in my third year now,” Markel answered, putting his own menu card, his choice made, and stared back at Óscar.
“It doesn’t sound boring, not at all. Do you like it?” Óscar sounded curious, encouraging Markel to continue.
“I like it a lot. It is a lot of research sometimes and some books give conflicting information but when the whole research comes together to give an insight into a new culture and help to understand people and their behaviour better... it is the best feeling.” Markel’s voice took a passionate lilt to it as he explained his research to Óscar and he flushed when he was done, realising how boring he must sound.
“Sorry... I get a little carried away sometimes,” he mumbled, looking away from Óscar, feeling a bit embarrassed about his behaviour. Óscar laughed and reached out with his hand, capturing one of Markel’s and swiped his thumb over the back.
“Don’t apologize, I don’t mind. You ehm... you look very handsome when you speak like that,” Óscar said quietly, looking away from Markel but still moving his thumb over the back of Markel’s hand, butterflies flapping wildly in Markel’s stomach.
Markel had to swallow, his throat dry suddenly.
“I-” He started to say but was interrupted when Irene appeared next to their table again. Óscar pulled his hand away and Markel instantly missed the warm weight of his hand on his own.
“Here are your drinks, sirs.” She carefully set the two glasses down, one filled with coke and the other with sprite, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. Irene smiled happily at them and Markel couldn’t keep a grudge against her for interrupting.
“Have you made your decision yet?” she asked, pulling her notepad from her apron with a flourish. Markel glanced at Óscar, receiving a little nod and a smile.
“I would like the house special.” Irene jotted his order down and turned to look at Óscar.
“I trust you know the best dishes they offer,” Óscar winked at Markel before continuing “I would like the same, please.” Irene smiled a bit too broadly at them as she put another turf after Markel’s order and disappeared almost as suddenly as she had appeared.
“So, what do you do?” Markel asked, a tingling feeling running through his body from Óscar’s wink and he took a sip from his sprite to distract himself, a small shiver running through his body when an ice cube brushed against his upper lip. Markel licked his lips to catch a stray drop before putting his glass down.
“I’m a second year biochemistry student which is way more boring that it sounds.” Óscar grinned at the end of his sentence before taking a drink himself, running his tongue over his lips in a way that told Markel it was on purpose.
“Do you get to make explosions?” Markel wondered, focusing his eyes on Óscar’s after looking away from his now shiny lips.
“No. Well... sometimes.” A mischievous sparkle in blue eyes suggested that a few of those explosions weren’t part of the experiment.
“Then how can it be a boring study?” Markel laughed.
“All right, it isn’t that boring but also not very exciting. I get a lot of homework and boring lectures.” Óscar laughed too and the warm, tingling feeling returned in Markel’s stomach.
“That sounds like a perfect description for every study there is,” Markel quipped, causing Óscar to laugh harder. Markel smiled, feeling pleased with himself for making Óscar laugh and sipped from his sprite again.
The soft music on the background switched to more popular pop songs as they continued talking, telling more about themselves and their likes and dislikes, discovering that they had quite a lot of things in common. They both liked to go out with friends sometimes but preferred to stay at home and read a book or watch a film. They liked the same types of music while Óscar favoured the more recent bands whereas Markel liked the older and they were both huge fans of Athletic Club. Óscar was younger than Markel by a year and a couple of months but Markel didn’t mind.
Their conversation was interrupted when Irene came with their orders and Markel kept a close eye on Óscar when he tried the first bite. The younger man hummed when he swallowed, a pleased smile forming on his face and nodded a little.
“Good?” Markel asked, swallowing his own bite.
“Yeah. It’s good. I like it.” Óscar nodded again, taking another bite.
“I’ve tried about everything they offer but this is by far my favourite dish.” Markel explained, finishing his drink with a gulp and setting his glass down with a thud.
“Would you mind if I order a wine that goes perfectly with this dish?” he asked, not wanting to order wine if Óscar didn’t approve.
“Go ahead, I wouldn’t mind some wine either.” Óscar smiled and Markel smiled back before drawing the attention of a nearby waiter. He placed the order for a bottle of red wine and looked back at his date. The younger man had a smear of red sauce at the corner of his lips and Markel chuckled.
“You’ve got a little something here.” He tapped the corner of his own lips and Óscar’s cheeks tinged red as he swiped his tongue over the spot.
“Is it gone?” he asked, rubbing at the new clean spot with his fingers.
“Yeah,” Markel got out of his dry throat and was glad when Irene came with two wine glasses and the bottle of wine. She popped the cork and poured the wine, the red liquid sloshing around in the glasses a bit. Markel took a sip when she was gone, leaving the bottle behind for them. The wine was heavenly for his parched throat and the rich taste left his tongue tingling.
He leaned back in his chair, taking another bite as he watched how Óscar tried the wine, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, licking his lips to catch stray drops. Markel swallowed his bite and when he caught Óscar’s grin, he decided he had enough of the younger man’s teasing.
He eased his shoe off with some difficulties and slowly let his foot trail up Óscar’s leg. He grinned at the shocked look on the younger man’s face and gently nudged his knee with his toes before sliding his foot down, letting it rest on top of Óscar’s crossed ankles. He sipped his wine again, giving Óscar a coy, challenging look.
The shocked look was replaced with mischief and Óscar moved his legs, Markel’s foot dropping to the floor. A socked foot slowly made its way up Markel’s leg, pulling his jeans up. Toes inched their way up past Markel’s knee and an involuntary laugh burst out of Markel’s throat, his thigh ticklish.
He let his own foot trail up again, first pulling Óscar’s jeans up with a toe, rubbing his socked toes over skin, before moving up higher.
Part 2