fic: on a feeling that i never had part 1
title: on a feeling that i never had
pairing: josé mourinho/aitor karanka (rui faria/esteban granero)
rating: nc-17
word count: 16k~
disclaimer: fiction
summary: how it begins for aitor and ends for josé.
a/n: happy valentines day, miss_black91 :p this is far too late but you love them regardless :D the first of many mouranka fics yet to come. title is taken from frank ocean's 'novacane'
*
The day he realizes, he’s on his ass, squinting up at the bright sun.
And José’s smile.
He won’t forget that day.
*
“You need to smile more.”
Aitor looks up from his tactical board, confusion stitched on his forehead. Esteban is at his right shoulder, his interest shifting gears.
José shrugs. “You’re too serious all the time. Lighten up.”
It makes Aitor laugh which is exactly what José was aiming for.
“I am trying to prep the squad for Barça, not win a smiling competition.”
“Who knows? Maybe you can get them to forfeit with your teeth.”
The best thing to do is to tell José where he can shove his own teeth but Aitor doesn’t. Aitor never would.
Instead he smiles bright and wide. “Better?”
José nods, his own smile shining through his ice like grey eyes.
*
Aitor learns quickly that every little thing do you, positive or negative, is under the great scrutiny of the public, even more so when you are a part of the coaching staff of the biggest club in the world. And it sticks with them no matter how much you try to change their mind. He’s had articles written about him before, his photo taken here and there during his career. But now, as assistant manager of Real Madrid, as José Mourinho’s right hand man, Aitor feels like he can’t even step out of his house with bright flashes mixed with the whirl of clicking.
It’s not that he doesn’t like or appreciate it, that others care about him so much. It’s just... different.
*
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
Rui looks at him through the edges of his glasses, so low on his nose Aitor think they’re going to slip off any second.
“Well hello to you too, Aitor.”
“Hello, you fucking idiot.”
Rui just looks annoyed now. “Could you please tell me why you keep insulting me?”
“You couldn’t take him out more discreetly? Or how about just inviting him over to your place? Why would you ever think it was okay for you and Esteban to go to a restaurant... a fucking romantic one at that?”
The shade Rui’s cheeks turn could rival the colour of Cristiano’s new boots. Rui looks down as he rubs the back of his neck before speaking. “Uh, how did you find out about that?”
“Papers, Rui. Of course they don’t think it was a date. No, they think Esteban is trying to play favourites to get his way into the starting eleven.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Exactly.” Aitor isn’t being completely supportive right now but he needs to get his rage out when he saw the front page of Marca claiming Esteban is wining and dining his way onto the pitch. “When you told me you asked him to dinner...”
Rui’s head flies up and he looks around frantically. “Jesus, Aitor! Could you speak any louder? I confided in you for a reason, not so you could blab it to everyone just because you’re mad at me!”
Suddenly, Aitor feels pity for him. He’s one of the few people who know about Rui and Esteban. It isn’t something they want leaked and though luckily no one suspects what they were really up to, the stories don’t help their own images or the clubs.
“I’m sorry,” Aitor says as he reaches out and rubs Rui’s shoulder lightly. “You know the media are going to ask you about it so address it quickly and swiftly and the next time you want to meet him for dinner you keep it to yours or his place.”
Rui looks up, his eyes still worried but he laughs. “God, you sound like José.”
And that leaves Aitor puzzled for the remainder of the day.
*
Out of habit he picks up on the first ring.
“We’re going to watch the cantenero play today. I will pick you up in thirty minutes.”
Aitor would be surprised if it were anyone but José.
“José...”
“You don’t want to? It’s part of your managerial expectations.”
“Stop making things up.”
José’s laughter filters over the line and Aitor relaxes against the mattress.
“I am not. It’s what coaches do. But I know it is last minute. I can drag Rui instead.”
The covers are off his body before he even thinks about it. “No, no. You said thirty minutes? Get me coffee and I’m yours.” He doesn’t think about what he just said until after he hangs up the phone and proceeds to inwardly curse himself.
They watch the match; well, Aitor watches while José criticizes but Aitor wasn’t expecting any different from him. It’s bright and sunny out but the wind tickles enough for both of them to be bundled in jackets and scarves. It is late November after all. Aitor sips on his coffee while José nods along with the match.
“Who do you think we should call up for the next match?”
It takes Aitor a minute to process that. “You’re asking me?”
José chuckles before he thumps Aitor on his arm lightly. “Of course I am! Why else did you think I brought you here with me? This isn’t a date, Aitor. We’re making managerial decisions!”
The use of his ‘is it a real word or not’ word makes Aitor miss the important part of that sentence but when it finally sinks in, he turns to José.
“What?”
“So who do you think? I like...”
Aitor doesn’t hear the rest of it, or not completely. If there’s one thing he has learned about José is that he chooses his words carefully. So fucking carefully.
His mood is ruined for the rest of the day and he blames it on the coffee.
*
They go for dinner: Aitor, José and Rui. José decides that they need a tactical meeting but he didn’t want to hang around the training grounds. So they all meet up much later and go to Aitor’s favourite restaurant (a little bistro about fifteen minutes away from El Bernabeu where the owner is afraid of José but still respects him greatly so they always dine indiscretion there).
They end up wandering into conversations about personal life instead of professional and it’s probably one of the first times Aitor lets his guard down with Rui and José. He’s been nothing but professional when wearing that crest on above his heart and even when he’s not. He always remembers that he represents the club no matter what he does but he lets go, just enough for Rui and José to learn that Aitor sleeps in on days off, likes 80s pop instead of rock and dislikes the fact that there are no beaches in Madrid (he and Cristiano had an hour long conversation about it one time). It’s not significant. It isn’t.
Rui leaves shortly after they have consumed their meal (the fact that Esteban had come to pick him up doesn’t go unnoticed but both José and Aitor don’t comment on it - they’ll wait to tease him during training).
“Call it a night?”
Aitor looks at his watch and lets out a bark of a laugh. “Shit! It’s later than I thought.”
José shrugs. “It’s not that bad. We can have a cup of coffee at my place if you want?”
Aitor feels it’s a little ridiculous, for José to ask, for himself to feel utterly thrilled at the fact he did ask. But he remains nonchalant as he brings his elbows to rest on the table.
“Your choice, mister.”
José laughs. “You call me that outside of the pitch again and I’ll kill you.”
Aitor couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
He’s been here before albeit once or twice.
(It’s actually twice and he remembers the exact times and reasons. The first time was when José first became manager and he had his new coaching staff over dinner to get to know everyone better and to be on the same page about the club, goals and direction wise. The second time... Aitor somehow got suckered into picking José up and drive him to training one morning when the Portuguese’s car broke down. Aitor will never forget it because it ended up being the day the corner of José’s lips curled up at the same time his eyes did. The smile is something he’ll always cherish.)
Everything is neat and clean, almost like the maid just finished up before they get back from dinner. José leads Aitor into the family room, tells him to take a seat before he disappears. It’s an automatic reaction when Aitor begins to look around. Photos of smiling children adorn most of the mantle, along with few tasteful art pieces that are scattered across the room. There is not a single sight of silverware anywhere and for some reason Aitor likes that.
It’s how he sees José.
“Sugar?”
Aitor snaps out of thoughts to see José stroll in with two cups of café con leche, an easy smile on his lips.
“No, thank you. I usually take it without.”
“As do I.”
Aitor thinks it’s silly that he feels warm so he blames it on the drink.
José’s voice is low, low enough to add a nice rumble. Aitor likes it when he says mas and básicamente. José’s jaw drops as does his voice and it captures Aitor’s attention like nothing else. Well, the way José cards his fingers through his hair when he laughs his pretty distracting as well. And how he licks his lips every time before he speaks, as though speaking dries them outright. Or...
“Aitor? Are you tired? Or am I boring you?”
He has his trademark smirk on his lips, like when Cristiano celebrates a goal in a ridiculous manner or when a reporter asks him for the 10th time how he feels about Barça’s result every other night.
There are a few ways Aitor could answer (bite, lick, kiss).
“No, no, forgive me. I just remembered something.”
José’s eyes narrow but he’s still wearing that smile. “Ah, I see.”
When Aitor drives home that night he wonders if José really does.
*
“This is awkward.”
Rui glares at Aitor who tries his best to suppress a laugh as Esteban takes a seat next to the Portuguese native on the couch at his home, although he puts enough space between them that has the Basque howling.
“I would have no idea if you two were in a relationship or not. Right now it just seems like Esteban is afraid of you, Rui.”
Rui sighs. “This was a bad idea. I knew this was a bad fucking idea.” He gets up and exits the room, leaving Aitor alone with Esteban.
“You know, he thought we could trust you.”
Aitor sits up straight, his body rigid and defensive. “He can. You both can.”
“It’s not easy for us and because you’re really one of the only people who know, we thought it would be okay to... you know, be ourselves,” Esteban looks down at his hands, following the lines that adorn his palms. “He really values your opinion. Especially on him.”
That catches Aitor by surprise. He and Rui formed an easy friendship from the start. Rui’s not as quiet as he once was due to working with José Mourinho over all these years; he had learned to be loud, forthright, and witty but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate Aitor’s tranquility.
But never once did Aitor get a sign that Rui entrusted him so completely.
“I... I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t,” Esteban lifts his head and offers a smile that tells Aitor to not over think things. “There’s a reason why you’re sitting on this couch and not José even though he’s known José for so much longer and better.”
“José wouldn’t have any-”
“No, he wouldn’t but he’s not as easy to speak to about this, is he? Oh he would support us but he won’t give us much more than that. He knows it too.”
Aitor never thought of it that way. José’s emotions and character aren’t as easy to read as the media would like to think. There are times happiness, joy, sorrow, anger and everything between could easily be etched onto his features yet ten seconds later a mask of cool slips in, overshadowing everything else. However, José has always made himself available to his team if anyone needed someone to speak to. He made it essential for the club to know this the day he became manager.
“I don’t know, Esteban. I think you should give him the benefit of doubt. He has always said-”
“He’s right.”
Aitor whips around to see Rui leaning against the door frame, his demeanor tense yet defeated at the same time.
“Opening up to José isn’t easy because he remains so closed off you feel stupid while you’re speaking to him,” Rui shrugs before he pushes off the door and walks up behind where Esteban is sitting and places his hands on his shoulders. “Try it next time. Try to talk about something that matters to you and he’ll cut you off.”
Aitor shakes his head. “José can’t be like that. There’s no way.”
Rui smiles sadly. “Try it.”
And that is how things truly begin for Aitor and José.
*
There are days Aitor wishes he was still playing the game he loves with his entire heart, body and soul. Players with Cristiano’s and Iker’s passion and dedication make his heart swell whenever he sees them fight for the club every match. He misses that feeling, that want and hunger. He misses the burn in his thighs after a good hard training session and the way his fingers would twitch nervously before an important match (they still do - José’s noticed the way his fingers would jump before a match against Barça every single time and has laughed at him every single time).
But he wouldn’t trade this experience of being a coach for a club like Real Madrid either. Aitor’s lucky and he knows that.
“What are you thinking about?”
José’s smile floats before his eyes and Aitor returns it. It’s easy.
“Just remembering my days of when I was like Albiol.”
José laughs, his face splitting into a grin. “Not Carvalho?”
Aitor shakes his head, suppressing his own laughter. “If I had half of his talent I would have twice as better career.”
He expects a chuckle, a smirk, something other than the stony silence José gives him.
“You underestimate yourself and that’s the problem.”
When he walks away Aitor doesn’t understand what went wrong.
*
It’s ridiculous.
Real Madrid is on their way to another comfy win and all Aitor can think about is José. He’s making jokes and smiling and laughing and is just so free Aitor doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. José enthusiastically gestures with his hands, waving them in the air, as he recounts a story about his son.
And it’s ridiculous how he stares at José’s lips and wonders what they’d taste like. Aitor suspects like minty gum because the Portuguese man always happened to be chewing on it. He doesn’t mean to stare but somehow his eyes always travel to his pink lips and he gets lost in thought, no matter where they may be - and a football match is no exception.
(And really, he’s thought about it; what it would feel like just to lean over and kiss José. Would José protest? Would he push him away and ask him what the fuck Aitor is doing? Would he fire him? Because Aitor feels like that could be a reason for expulsion. Hell, he’d probably leave himself after doing that becau-)
“Aitor... Aitor!”
It doesn’t help when Aitor snaps out of it José licks his lips as he places his hand on his thigh to get his attention. Aitor becomes hyper aware of his surroundings and sits up stiffly in his seat. He doesn’t know if he should shake off José’s hand or not.
Why is his hand still on his thigh?
“Uh... Yes?”
“You weren’t listening to a thing I was saying, were you?” José is smirking so he’s not mad and when he finally retracts his hand, Aitor misses it.
“No no,” Aitor stumbles over his tongue as he tries not to turn completely red. Rui’s eyes are on him as well and there’s something in them. He’s staring him with such intensity. “I just-”
Luckily Cristiano cuts him off with a beautiful goal and no one knows anything else but cheers and happiness.
*
“How long?”
Rui corners Aitor after the match. Aitor isn’t sure what he means.
“How long have you liked José?”
“I... What?”
And really, Aitor just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He doesn’t want to talk about this with anyone and definitely not Rui. Even hearing him asking about it out loud is foreign to his ears.
“It’s okay,” Rui says quietly, his eyes still intense. “I just... It’s José, you know? I have known him for a very long time so if you-”
And Aitor cuts him off because this is a conversation he’s never going to have. Ever.
“I think you’re imagining things. And we need to hurry up and go to the press before they make up stories instead.”
He pushes past Rui, smoothing his flowing hair as he leaves and heads to media room.
(And when he goes home later on that night, he pushes the thought of José out of his mind completely because nothing is ever going to happen. He is his boss, the coach of Real Madrid and Aitor isn’t going to fuck up his own career just because he has feelings for the man. He’s smarter than that.)
The most troubling thought he has when he goes to sleep that night is he realizes he has feelings for the Portuguese...
*
He begins to notice things more and more every day. Like the salt and pepper colour of José’s hair and how his nervous habit is to run his fingers through it when he’s too lost in thoughts of formation and strategy. He also notices how much more relaxed and friendly José is with everyone, constantly joking and laughing with the players and staff alike.
Aitor also notices how Rui is always suddenly around José at any given opportunity.
And he realizes it’s ridiculous to be jealous of Rui because they share a friendship that has lasted many years and throughout different clubs but Aitor cannot help but feel prickly when Rui leans in and whispers something into José’s ear that makes the older man laugh, his entire face lighting up like glow sticks at a pop concert.
It’s ridiculous for numerous reasons and Aitor tells himself to get over it.
However it is harder said than done.
“Aitor... Hey, Aitor!”
He cuts his eyes over to Rui who looks like he’s two seconds away from bursting out laughing.
“...What?”
“You look like you were remembering something that makes you really angry so your face was all creased,” Rui says with a grin.
And Aitor doesn’t know what provokes him but the words fall out of his mouth.
“Have you and José... ever been together?”
“W-what?” Rui chokes as his face turns from jovial to shock almost immediately. “You’re joking, yes?”
Aitor instantaneously feels ashamed and stupid. He ducks his head to look at his shoes. “Just ignore I asked that okay?” He turns to leave but a hand on his wrist stops him.
Rui forces Aitor to look him in the eyes. His are dead calm now.
“Tell me why you want to know or even care.”
“I...” It’s a trap - a fucking trap - but Aitor got himself into this and it is going to be pretty difficult to get himself out without telling the truth. “No reason.”
“Aitor...” Rui sighs as he lets go of his wrist. “Why won’t you admit it? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” When Aitor doesn’t respond Rui smiles sadly. “No, José and I never did anything. He’s my mentor and the reason why I am here today.”
“I...” Aitor doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like a complete fool just because a rush of jealously filled his body before rationality did. “I’m sorry, Rui... I-”
Rui smiles wistfully. “José’s a good man, if you ever get over yourself and talk to him.”
“I always talk to him.”
“About this?”
Aitor stays quiet. He’s starting to hate himself a little.
“Look. It’s really up to you what you want to do, tell him or not. All I am saying is that maybe telling him is the best thing you could rather than keeping it to yourself,” Rui pauses for a moment then smirks. “If I noticed then maybe he has too.”
And really, how can he think of anything else after that?
*
Esteban tries to tell anyone who is willing to listen (which isn’t too many) about the vintage typewriter he found online. It’s in England and he will need to go pick it up (one simply does not ship a vintage item like this). However out of everyone in the room, Aitor is the only one is actually paying attention to him until...
Until from across the room he sees Cristiano pull up one leg of his shorts and point to his thigh, his other hand gesturing wildly while he spits rapidly in Portuguese. Next to him José leans in touches the strong muscle, digging his fingers in lightly.
Aitor knows - knows - it’s nothing; they are discussing a strain Cristiano has been feeling in upper leg for a few days now. But what he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach must reflect on his face because when José looks up and catches his eye, the Portuguese man’s eyes light up with surprise.
Aitor leaves the changing room immediately.
“Aitor... Are you-”
Aitor looks up from his desk, his face tight and strained. He tries to smile at José who looks incredibly worried (and Aitor would be warmed by the sentiment if he didn’t still feel ashamed by his earlier actions) but it comes across as a grimace instead.
“José.”
“What’s wrong, Aitor? You just...”
José doesn’t finish. Instead he takes a seat from across Aitor’s desk, folding his legs in front of him. His eyes are warm, calm but intense at the same that Aitor looks down at his hands almost immediately.
“You’ve been acting different lately, Aitor...”
He doesn’t know why but Aitor forces himself to look up, to face the man who has the balls to come here and confront him. It’s the least he can do.
“Did I do something? Are you not happy?”
Aitor bites out a laugh which to his own ears sounds forced and hollow.
“I... I am fine, José. It’s nothing.”
“Aitor...” The Portuguese man starts again. “Explain to me what that was in the locker room.” His voice is steady now, like he demands Aitor to obey.
A shiver runs through his body.
“It was nothing.”
“Aitor.”
It’s a warning. A warning that Aitor can’t help but feel attracted to.
He averts his gaze before speaking. “Have you ever been attracted to someone you’re not supposed to be?”
There’s silence and Aitor knows José understands. He’s a smart man, one of the most intelligent people Aitor has ever met. And he didn’t exactly hide his words in a puzzle. Aitor’s tired of games, even if it’s with himself.
When silence stretches for a little longer than Aitor is comfortable with, he sighs before burying his head in his hands. “I’ve made a fool of myself again,” He mutters to himself, feeling defeated and embarrassed. He clears his throat though he doesn’t lift his head. “Just forget what I said, okay and I’ll leave as quickly and quietly as I can.”
“Leave to where?”
The sound of puzzlement in José’s voice gets his attention and he finally looks up, greeted with a confused look on the manager’s face.
“To... Don’t you want me to leave? After this?”
“After what? You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t want me to leave... even if I-”
José cuts him off as he stands up. “You are not going anywhere until I tell you. You belong here in Madrid.”
When he walks towards the door, Aitor swears he hears with me. But he doesn’t hold hope within words he may or may not have heard. He won’t do that to himself.
“You are a fucking idiot,” Rui says when he tells him what happened later that evening.
(Okay, so he didn’t tell him willingly. Instead Rui showed up to his home, wondering what had happened exactly because José had looked frazzled and unbalanced when he was leaving the training grounds that day. Aitor doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information.)
“You’re right. About that and that he shuts down. He didn’t want to talk about it which I didn’t either but... It’s like I know he knows what I meant but he made no real acknowledgement of it.”
“Ah,” Rui smiles sadly. “Welcome to the real José Mourinho.”
*
His skin prickles with embarrassment whenever José is around now but he cannot help it. It’s like an allergic reaction that has been programmed into his brain. He knows. Of course he does. Aitor told him in not so many words and now Aitor has to live with that knowledge. That José knows... And doesn’t care.
That’s what hurts the most.
“You are looking a little tired today, Aitor,” José says with his usual smile, his eyes crinkling by the corners. (It’s a little silly that Aitor wants to reach up and rub the tiny lines away with his thumb.)
Aitor returns the smile though it isn’t as bright. “It’s getting warm at night now. I couldn’t sleep properly.”
José laughs. “Well, invest in air conditioning. I cannot have my assistant coach looking haggard. What will the players think, hmm?”
His eyes linger on Aitor for a second too long and Aitor feels his skin prickle again, this time with a different emotion.
It hasn’t been an easy two weeks. After the discussion (or lack thereof) they shared in his office, Aitor’s mind hasn’t been able to turn off. Buzz buzz buzz whirl whirl whirl. Too many thoughts were crammed into his head like butterflies in a jar. Why did he tell him? What good ever comes out of telling the person you are infatuated with your feelings for them when you know it will never be reciprocated? Aitor had mentally beat himself up over it until he poured himself his third glass of wine one night ten days ago and decided it could be worse... José hasn’t ignored him nor treated him any differently. He has still been his friendly, sarcastic self.
It is just hard for Aitor. He feels guilty... yet not, in the same sitting.
“What do you suggest I do, mister?” He knows he’s being a smug bastard but it’s easier this way.
José smirks and looks like his about to chirp back a reply when suddenly his expression changes so quickly, Aitor is confused. Now José smiles kindly and reaches out to pat Aitor’s shoulders.
“Take it easy today, okay? Maybe just watch from the bench?”
Aitor shakes his head, shocked yet touched. José cares about his wellbeing?
“No, no. I should be fine. I just won’t join in the running today like I usually do.”
José narrows his eyes and stares for a moment before shrugging. “If I see you over doing it, you’re sitting out and that’s that.”
He walks away and Aitor is floored.
*
It’s too hot so José pulls at his collar.
Then kisses his neck.
And bites his collar bone.
And Aitor feels like he’s dying. Like he’s slowly leaving his body and watching himself down below as he floats away from the earth.
José has him up against the wall, his knee between Aitor’s legs, his lips doing incredible things to his neck. A hand plays with the hem of Aitor’s shirt and his breath hitches.
He wants it so much. Everything.
When José’s hand slips into his pants, the shrill sound of his alarm clock shocks him awake.
Well, damn.
*
“You’re telling me you can’t go to dinner because you have to work in your garden?”
Rui looks at José skeptically, his eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline while Aitor watches quietly from the other side of the office.
José laughs as he pushes his glasses further onto his nose. “It’s crazy right? And unlike me, I agree. But I have decided to eat healthier and starting a garden makes perfect sense, no? I am old now; I have to watch what I eat otherwise I’ll die quicker than I’d like to.”
Rui stares at him for another moment before turning on his heels and exiting the office, muttering something about crazy hippies.
“You’re not old.”
José turns his smile to Aitor who quickly looks away, like a child would after yelling out a curse word among a crowd and then attempting to hide. The Portuguese lets out a huff of laughter.
“You don’t need to compliment me when it’s just the two of us, Aitor,” José grins, his eyes teasing. “Save it for when Rui’s around. Always challenging me he is.”
Aitor lets him ramble on for a moment before the room falls silent again.
“I’m serious. You’re pretty healthy as it is. You run half the drills along with the team. I really don’t think you need to be healthier than what you are now.”
The tips of his ears turn unsightly red as José just stares at him, his eyes intense, soul searching. This isn’t the first time he has wanted to retract his statement and hell this won’t be his last. He’s about to make amends when José smiles again, reaches forward and taps Aitor’s not-so-smooth cheeks.
“Remind me to call you before every meal. You can be my... consultant.”
And then he does something completely catches Aitor by unawares. He kisses the soft skin of Aitor’s cheeks (although he has not shaved) before turning away without another word.
At this point, Aitor feels like it’s slipping out of his hands.
*
Time continues. Of course it does. They have a world class club they need to worry about after all. The Champions League Quarterfinals are just around the corner and it’s time to buckle down and focus.
“Esteban... Esteban! Run faster!” Aitor hollers at the young man before dropping his voice so only the man next to him could hear. “Otherwise no sex for you and Rui for a week.”
José laughs as he scratches his nose. “It’s still a little surreal that they are together, you know?”
Aitor’s a little surprised that José want to discuss Rui’s and Esteban’s relationship because Rui had made it seem like the older man didn’t want to acknowledge it.
Aitor shrugs his shoulders before turning to face José. “It is but they work in some weird way. Esteban has always struck me as a wise young man for his age and Rui... Well Rui needs someone unlike him.” Aitor pauses to let out a slight chuckle. “Sometimes, Esteban is the bigger adult than Rui.”
José’s face breaks out in a grin, his teeth bare. “Rui’s young at heart, always has been. That’s what I have always liked about him. He never takes life too seriously.”
“Until he’s getting thrown out of matches.”
“Well, he’s passionate which is never a bad quality.”
“As is Esteban. I passed by him and Xabi one day and they were in a deep conversation about planets and planetary movement. Was it weird? Definitely but he was so engrossed in the conversation that he was carrying most of it. He is an intelligent man.”
José turns his head slightly to lay his eye upon Rui who was working closely with Kaka. “I have known him for many years now and I still remember the day I met him. He has always been brash and outgoing, it’s what made him standout compared to the rest. He was never afraid of speaking his mind although he may not be the most knowledgeable.” He slides his eyes back to Aitor, smiling slightly. “And Esteban is his exact opposite: quiet, polite and highly intelligent. God knows what their conversations besides football would be about but I am happy for them.”
There isn’t much Aitor can say because this is the opposite of what Rui said about him, that he wouldn’t be open about other people’s feelings, that he’d shut down. Aitor has never seen him so open and especially about other people he cares about.
And when José lays a hand on his shoulder, letting it linger before he pushes Aitor and tells him to gather the defenders together, Aitor wonders how much of the man he still has yet to see.
*
“You know, José was seeing a young man in Milan when we were there.”
Aitor tries not to glare from across the table where he and Rui are sat having lunch.
“And the point of you telling me this is?”
“If you’re worried about him not liking men or that he wouldn’t see you in that way...” Rui trails off when he sees Aitor twist a poor defenceless napkin between his hands.
“Look. I don’t need or want relationship advice from you, okay?”
“But you and José aren’t in a relationship... Yet.”
“Rui...”
“Okay, okay,” Rui backs into his seat, chuckling quietly. “I just don’t know why you won’t even pursue it. I know José isn’t the most open person but he seems a little more relaxed lately, smiling more. I think now is the time.”
Aitor looks down at his food, the meat half eaten scattered along the leaves of lettuce. “I don’t know, Rui. Just leave it.”
But of course, the thought lingers in the back of his mind.
*
“Aitor, dinner at my place tonight at 10. Bring a good bottle of wine and don’t be late.”
Aitor looks up from his desk over to the doorframe of his office where José leans against, dressed in the club’s training gear, his graying hair fluffy and well kept (except for the few strays that always seem to never be under control).
“...What?”
José crinkles his nose but laughs at the same time. “I’m inviting a few people over for dinner so you better show up.”
Aitor accepts with a feeling of disappointment heavy in his limbs.
He wonders what José was like when he was younger. Aitor can see him being a playboy, in the sense that he would get attention from boys and girls everywhere he’d go because of his good looks and confidence. He wonders if José was the type of man to frequent nightclubs. However, because José doesn’t seem to be one who needs false admiration (though a luring look from seductive eyes always did Aitor in... when he was younger).
José works the room perfectly. There are only five other guests but Jose never leaves one long enough to have them feel uncomfortable despite everyone not knowing each other well. Aitor has Rui at least and he’s thankful for that, no matter how disappointed he may be.
“Great choice of wine, Aitor,” José’s purrs into his ear as the older man comes up from behind him and pulls him in for a slight-side-hug.
The heat from his body, the sheer fact that he’s so close to José he can smell him is doing nothing for Aitor except embarrass him. He clears his throat before pulling away regrettably.
“Ah well, no one knows wine like me.”
“Oh really?” José asks with the rise of an eyebrow. Aitor’s eyes do a quick sweep of him from head to toe. All black, causal in a t-shirt and slacks. He looks perfect. (He always does).
Aitor takes a sip of the said wine from his glass before nodding. He can do this. “My uncle used to own a vineyard in Bilbao. It’s said that his father knew Marques de Riscal,” Aitor laughs and takes another sip. “Anyway, as a boy during the summers I would run around his vineyard attempting to help him though I didn’t do much more than cause trouble. My first drink was with my uncle and we had the finest glass of Marques de Reserva. I didn’t appreciate it then but I do now.”
Smiling fondly, José nods as he gestures to Aitor’s glass. “May I?”
And before he even knows what Jose is asking of him exactly he says yes. José reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Aitor’s and pulls the glass towards him. Eyes locked on each other, Jose leans in and takes a sip carefully, pulling away only when necessary though he doesn’t drop his hold on Aitor’s hand. He swirls the wine around his tongue before swallowing, his eyes dangerous now.
“This is Gran Reserva, no?”
Aitor nods dumbly, like his head is on a bobble.
“I have a different bottle in my collection... in my wine cellar, if you’d like to... taste?”
The question hangs in the air but only for a heartbeat before Aitor breathes out a yes.
He tries to focus his eyes on anything other than José’s back side as he follows him to the wine cellar apparently but it’s awfully difficult to do. Especially when José’s wearing the trousers that hug his thighs and ass so perfectly.
Aitor suddenly has no idea what he is doing. His mind is racing with a hundred and one thoughts. What were they going to do? Was it really just to check out wine? Once they were alone, what if Aitor lost control? What if...
A warm body collides with his, back to front and Aitor’s cheeks burn with embarrassment when José turns around, smirking at him.
“Eager for wine, Aitor?”
Aitor tries to laugh but it sounds mangled and strained. José just smiles even wider.
“I picked up many different wines in Italy, so rich and full of body. Do you prefer red or white?”
Aitor frowns. “Red.” He hopes this isn’t entirely about wine.
“I like a good white from time to time, especially in the summer time near the beach.”
And Aitor can see it. José is on the beach somewhere in Portugal, his hair ruffled gracefully by the wind, his body and demeanour relaxed against a lounge chair as the waves crash against the rocks in front of him. He would be holding a wine glass by the stem and swirl around the pale liquid before bringing it to his lips for a taste.
He wants it so much.
“Aitor?”
His eyes find José’s and he’s no longer looking smug, but serious with a tinge of innocent sincerity shaded in them. “Do you still...?” José nods his head in the direction of the door.
“Of course.”
They go inside and it is impressive. The room isn’t very large but from floor to ceiling rows and rows of wine bottles line the walls. Aitor’s eyes dart in all directions, drinking in the sheer brilliance of the collection.
“José... Wow.”
José lets out a little chuckle. “Do you like it?” He walks past Aitor but not before curling his fingers around his wrist lightly and pulls him forward as he goes. (A tiny tremor runs through his body but Aitor hopes - prays - José doesn’t notice.) José leads him to a section in the corner, where the little cubby holes have covers on them.
“I am a man,” José starts with a coy little smile on his lips, “who believes wine is made to be drunk, not preserving like some do. However,” He pauses again to reach for a bottle underneath the slip. Aitor follows his hands with his eyes and it feels anticlimactic when he pulls out a dark wine bottle. “My favorite wine I haven’t had in twenty... five years.”
It is an Argentine Malbec from 1967, the year the grapes in Argentina only produced three barrels of wine. Not even Aitor’s uncle had this hands on that.
“You’ve had that before?” Aitor asks, not even attempting to hide the awe in his voice. “It’s one of the hardest wines to come across.”
José nods. “A man has his ways, Aitor...” Their eyes meet and there’s something hidden in José’s though his intentions are clear. He caresses the top of the bottle lightly, running his fingers down the spine. “Care for a taste?”
“You would open it for me? Really?”
“Oh Aitor,” And José sounds a little sad, like he just heard some bad news. He reaches out with a free hand and touches Aitor’s cheek lightly, caressing the soft skin with the back of his hand.
Aitor freezes where he is, not able to move even if he wanted to. His breathing is too loud and it’s what he focuses on because if he didn’t he might do something incredibly stupid.
“Why me, Aitor?”
“W-what?”
“Out of everyone, why me?”
Aitor cannot believe they are having this conversation and here of all places. In a fucking wine cellar. The center of his palms begin to itch and slight sweat. He wipes them against his pant leg.
“José, maybe we should get back-”
Cornered, José presses Aitor against one of the walls and all he can think of is ‘don’t break the bottles!’ Because really, if he thinks of José looming over him, a bottle of the most expensive Malbec between their bodies being the only barrier preventing them from touching, stomach to stomach, there might be wine all over the floor rather shortly.
“You don’t want to talk about this now, Aitor? You wanted to that day.”
He’s not accusing. His eyes are still warm, friendly and mesmerizing that Aitor has to close his own and take in a very deep breath.
“José... It was nothing.”
“Open your eyes and say that.”
It’s a long pregnant pause before Aitor exhales and lets his eyes meet José’s.
“Tell me you’re not attracted to me.
“José...”
“Ask me.”
“Ask you what?” Aitor has no idea where this is leading but he doesn’t like whatsoever.
“Ask me if I find you attractive.”
His breath hitches in his throat and though the sound is very low José’s eyes flicker to his lips when he hears it.
“Jose... I-”
“Ask me.” And really there is no room for argument.
“Are... Are you attracted to me?”
Aitor expects a no and hopes for a yes but what he gets is the bottle of Malbec pressed against his stomach just under his ribs so it’s slightly uncomfortable and then José’s sliding his lips against Aitor’s and he can’t think of anything else. His arms come around the Portuguese, around his upper arms and he tries his best to pull him close as he can.
It’s not a hungry kiss, not one that makes them want to forget about the guests and shed their clothes right then and there. No, it’s a gentle, exploring kiss and José shifts so the bottle of wine isn’t in the way.
Aitor makes the first move and darts his tongue out quickly, just to see if José would chase him. However, instead of falling for it, José pulls way, the corners of his lips curled upward.
“We need to talk, Aitor.”
“Okay.” And really Aitor would agree to anything right now.
José laughs. “Not now. I am entertaining guests and here I am...”
“...Entertaining a guest?”
Laughter cuts the tension and José sneaks another kiss, just a peck of lips before he leads them out of the cellar.
*
Rui gets to him first. Of course he does.
“So...” He starts, his eyes darting all over Aitor’s face. “Did you and Mou fuck yet?”
Aitor chokes on his spit as he shakes his head adamantly, his hair flowing through the air. “No, no. Of course not.”
“Well, why the fuck not?”
And really, he should have expected nothing less from Rui, the man who ultimately has no filter. Aitor glares at him before looking down at his fingernails, like the dirt beneath them is that much more interesting.
“Rui... It’s not that easy, okay? You don’t understand so drop it.”
Never one to give up without a fight, Rui takes a step forward, ready to argue his point when the man of the hour blesses them with his presence.
“Now, now, Rui, you aren’t bothering our good man Aitor here, are you?” José turns to both of them with a big grin on his lips (and when he lingers his gaze on Aitor, the other man can feel the intent behind his eyes).
“Never,” Rui answers with a smile of his own. He has known José for a long time now, a lifetime. He knows how to handle the man. “I was just wondering where he had gone off to. It was probably for a good twenty minutes or so and you know me, José, I got worried.” His lips curve into a smirk as he waits for a justifiable answer.
“He was with me,” José responds, his eyes narrowed but calm like he wants Rui to challenge him. “We went down to the wine cellar.”
“Oh, really? Anything interesting?”
“Actually yes,” José steps forward, leaning in towards his staff. His voice drops. “I was showing him my favorite bottle.”
It’s a little comedic how fast Aitor’s cheeks redden even though he tries to duck his head as fast as he can.
“Oh did you, José?” Rui turns to Aitor. “Did you like it, Aitor? His bottle?”
Aitor knows they’re having a go at him, which isn’t anything entirely new but it is different now because they both know he has feelings towards José and making jokes when he’s right there... about José bottle of all things... when all Aitor wants to do is have a sip, perhaps a long drink...
“Aitor?”
Aitor snaps out of his reverie which only adds to his embarrassment because Rui’s grinning like a lunatic and if Aitor was a different man he would have happily wiped it off his face with his knuckles.
“Thinking of José’s bottle, are you?”
José cracks up laughing, no longer able to hold it in and Aitor mutters under his breath how much he hates them both before storming off.
One by one the guests leave with José bidding each one a safe journey home until Rui and Aitor are all who remain.
“I guess you two should be getting on home too, training tomorrow and you know how I don’t like tardiness.”
Rui doesn’t even try to conceal his yawn. “I am too tired to argue with that anyway. Until tomorrow, gentlemen.” He shakes both of his colleagues’ hands before parting for the door.
The silence that falls upon them doesn’t go unnoticed by Aitor, who tries to come up with a quick solution.
“So... perhaps I should be leaving too.”
“I thought this would be a great time to have our little conversation, Aitor. Don’t you think so?”
Aitor coughs before nodding. “Sure. Lead the way.”
So José does, to his family room where he ushers Aitor to the plush couches. They sit next to each other yet with some distance between them.
“So what exactly do you want from me, Aitor?”
For some reason the question surprises him, like Aitor didn’t believe José would be so forthcoming with this subject (although he should know better by now).
“Look...” Aitor feels himself becoming riled up instead of shying away and that too is shocking. It’s like the feelings inside are too much to contain. “I am not asking for anything, José. I never did.”
Reaching across, José places a gentle hand on Aitor’s thigh, his body turning slightly towards him. His face is calm but he’s thinking: Aitor can see it in his eyes.
“I never said you did,” he speaks softly, like every word is measured. “But if you could what would you ask of me? Honestly.”
Aitor laughs. Is this a trick question? Because to him it definitely feels that way. He swallows thickly before answering. “I don’t know if I would ask you of anything without knowing if you feel the same way as I do or something similar. Otherwise, it’s fruitless, no?”
It’s only a moment - perhaps just a second or two - between the sound of José’s dull laughter and the press of his lips against Aitor’s. Aitor lets out a small gasp as he is pushed against the back of the couch, José’s body warm along his.
“Aitor.”
And his body thrums at the sound of his own name from such lips he has thought of on more than one occasion. Aitor arches his body up ever so slightly, craving friction, more of anything José is willing to give him.
With a gentle little nip to Aitor’s bottom lip, José pulls away with a coy smile. “If you didn’t get an answer in the wine cellar I pray to God you’ve got it now.”
Aitor does the only thing he can think of: he reaches up and pulls José back down for another kiss, his finger wrapping around the curve of his neck. He’s about to press their lips together again when José slides a finger on to his lips instead.
“Not until you answer my question first, Aitor.”
Aitor considers it for a moment before catching José by surprise and forces José to him. Right before he kisses him - hard, fast and with purpose - he whispers, “We can talk later.”
PART TWO
pairing: josé mourinho/aitor karanka (rui faria/esteban granero)
rating: nc-17
word count: 16k~
disclaimer: fiction
summary: how it begins for aitor and ends for josé.
a/n: happy valentines day, miss_black91 :p this is far too late but you love them regardless :D the first of many mouranka fics yet to come. title is taken from frank ocean's 'novacane'
*
The day he realizes, he’s on his ass, squinting up at the bright sun.
And José’s smile.
He won’t forget that day.
*
“You need to smile more.”
Aitor looks up from his tactical board, confusion stitched on his forehead. Esteban is at his right shoulder, his interest shifting gears.
José shrugs. “You’re too serious all the time. Lighten up.”
It makes Aitor laugh which is exactly what José was aiming for.
“I am trying to prep the squad for Barça, not win a smiling competition.”
“Who knows? Maybe you can get them to forfeit with your teeth.”
The best thing to do is to tell José where he can shove his own teeth but Aitor doesn’t. Aitor never would.
Instead he smiles bright and wide. “Better?”
José nods, his own smile shining through his ice like grey eyes.
*
Aitor learns quickly that every little thing do you, positive or negative, is under the great scrutiny of the public, even more so when you are a part of the coaching staff of the biggest club in the world. And it sticks with them no matter how much you try to change their mind. He’s had articles written about him before, his photo taken here and there during his career. But now, as assistant manager of Real Madrid, as José Mourinho’s right hand man, Aitor feels like he can’t even step out of his house with bright flashes mixed with the whirl of clicking.
It’s not that he doesn’t like or appreciate it, that others care about him so much. It’s just... different.
*
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
Rui looks at him through the edges of his glasses, so low on his nose Aitor think they’re going to slip off any second.
“Well hello to you too, Aitor.”
“Hello, you fucking idiot.”
Rui just looks annoyed now. “Could you please tell me why you keep insulting me?”
“You couldn’t take him out more discreetly? Or how about just inviting him over to your place? Why would you ever think it was okay for you and Esteban to go to a restaurant... a fucking romantic one at that?”
The shade Rui’s cheeks turn could rival the colour of Cristiano’s new boots. Rui looks down as he rubs the back of his neck before speaking. “Uh, how did you find out about that?”
“Papers, Rui. Of course they don’t think it was a date. No, they think Esteban is trying to play favourites to get his way into the starting eleven.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Exactly.” Aitor isn’t being completely supportive right now but he needs to get his rage out when he saw the front page of Marca claiming Esteban is wining and dining his way onto the pitch. “When you told me you asked him to dinner...”
Rui’s head flies up and he looks around frantically. “Jesus, Aitor! Could you speak any louder? I confided in you for a reason, not so you could blab it to everyone just because you’re mad at me!”
Suddenly, Aitor feels pity for him. He’s one of the few people who know about Rui and Esteban. It isn’t something they want leaked and though luckily no one suspects what they were really up to, the stories don’t help their own images or the clubs.
“I’m sorry,” Aitor says as he reaches out and rubs Rui’s shoulder lightly. “You know the media are going to ask you about it so address it quickly and swiftly and the next time you want to meet him for dinner you keep it to yours or his place.”
Rui looks up, his eyes still worried but he laughs. “God, you sound like José.”
And that leaves Aitor puzzled for the remainder of the day.
*
Out of habit he picks up on the first ring.
“We’re going to watch the cantenero play today. I will pick you up in thirty minutes.”
Aitor would be surprised if it were anyone but José.
“José...”
“You don’t want to? It’s part of your managerial expectations.”
“Stop making things up.”
José’s laughter filters over the line and Aitor relaxes against the mattress.
“I am not. It’s what coaches do. But I know it is last minute. I can drag Rui instead.”
The covers are off his body before he even thinks about it. “No, no. You said thirty minutes? Get me coffee and I’m yours.” He doesn’t think about what he just said until after he hangs up the phone and proceeds to inwardly curse himself.
They watch the match; well, Aitor watches while José criticizes but Aitor wasn’t expecting any different from him. It’s bright and sunny out but the wind tickles enough for both of them to be bundled in jackets and scarves. It is late November after all. Aitor sips on his coffee while José nods along with the match.
“Who do you think we should call up for the next match?”
It takes Aitor a minute to process that. “You’re asking me?”
José chuckles before he thumps Aitor on his arm lightly. “Of course I am! Why else did you think I brought you here with me? This isn’t a date, Aitor. We’re making managerial decisions!”
The use of his ‘is it a real word or not’ word makes Aitor miss the important part of that sentence but when it finally sinks in, he turns to José.
“What?”
“So who do you think? I like...”
Aitor doesn’t hear the rest of it, or not completely. If there’s one thing he has learned about José is that he chooses his words carefully. So fucking carefully.
His mood is ruined for the rest of the day and he blames it on the coffee.
*
They go for dinner: Aitor, José and Rui. José decides that they need a tactical meeting but he didn’t want to hang around the training grounds. So they all meet up much later and go to Aitor’s favourite restaurant (a little bistro about fifteen minutes away from El Bernabeu where the owner is afraid of José but still respects him greatly so they always dine indiscretion there).
They end up wandering into conversations about personal life instead of professional and it’s probably one of the first times Aitor lets his guard down with Rui and José. He’s been nothing but professional when wearing that crest on above his heart and even when he’s not. He always remembers that he represents the club no matter what he does but he lets go, just enough for Rui and José to learn that Aitor sleeps in on days off, likes 80s pop instead of rock and dislikes the fact that there are no beaches in Madrid (he and Cristiano had an hour long conversation about it one time). It’s not significant. It isn’t.
Rui leaves shortly after they have consumed their meal (the fact that Esteban had come to pick him up doesn’t go unnoticed but both José and Aitor don’t comment on it - they’ll wait to tease him during training).
“Call it a night?”
Aitor looks at his watch and lets out a bark of a laugh. “Shit! It’s later than I thought.”
José shrugs. “It’s not that bad. We can have a cup of coffee at my place if you want?”
Aitor feels it’s a little ridiculous, for José to ask, for himself to feel utterly thrilled at the fact he did ask. But he remains nonchalant as he brings his elbows to rest on the table.
“Your choice, mister.”
José laughs. “You call me that outside of the pitch again and I’ll kill you.”
Aitor couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
He’s been here before albeit once or twice.
(It’s actually twice and he remembers the exact times and reasons. The first time was when José first became manager and he had his new coaching staff over dinner to get to know everyone better and to be on the same page about the club, goals and direction wise. The second time... Aitor somehow got suckered into picking José up and drive him to training one morning when the Portuguese’s car broke down. Aitor will never forget it because it ended up being the day the corner of José’s lips curled up at the same time his eyes did. The smile is something he’ll always cherish.)
Everything is neat and clean, almost like the maid just finished up before they get back from dinner. José leads Aitor into the family room, tells him to take a seat before he disappears. It’s an automatic reaction when Aitor begins to look around. Photos of smiling children adorn most of the mantle, along with few tasteful art pieces that are scattered across the room. There is not a single sight of silverware anywhere and for some reason Aitor likes that.
It’s how he sees José.
“Sugar?”
Aitor snaps out of thoughts to see José stroll in with two cups of café con leche, an easy smile on his lips.
“No, thank you. I usually take it without.”
“As do I.”
Aitor thinks it’s silly that he feels warm so he blames it on the drink.
José’s voice is low, low enough to add a nice rumble. Aitor likes it when he says mas and básicamente. José’s jaw drops as does his voice and it captures Aitor’s attention like nothing else. Well, the way José cards his fingers through his hair when he laughs his pretty distracting as well. And how he licks his lips every time before he speaks, as though speaking dries them outright. Or...
“Aitor? Are you tired? Or am I boring you?”
He has his trademark smirk on his lips, like when Cristiano celebrates a goal in a ridiculous manner or when a reporter asks him for the 10th time how he feels about Barça’s result every other night.
There are a few ways Aitor could answer (bite, lick, kiss).
“No, no, forgive me. I just remembered something.”
José’s eyes narrow but he’s still wearing that smile. “Ah, I see.”
When Aitor drives home that night he wonders if José really does.
*
“This is awkward.”
Rui glares at Aitor who tries his best to suppress a laugh as Esteban takes a seat next to the Portuguese native on the couch at his home, although he puts enough space between them that has the Basque howling.
“I would have no idea if you two were in a relationship or not. Right now it just seems like Esteban is afraid of you, Rui.”
Rui sighs. “This was a bad idea. I knew this was a bad fucking idea.” He gets up and exits the room, leaving Aitor alone with Esteban.
“You know, he thought we could trust you.”
Aitor sits up straight, his body rigid and defensive. “He can. You both can.”
“It’s not easy for us and because you’re really one of the only people who know, we thought it would be okay to... you know, be ourselves,” Esteban looks down at his hands, following the lines that adorn his palms. “He really values your opinion. Especially on him.”
That catches Aitor by surprise. He and Rui formed an easy friendship from the start. Rui’s not as quiet as he once was due to working with José Mourinho over all these years; he had learned to be loud, forthright, and witty but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate Aitor’s tranquility.
But never once did Aitor get a sign that Rui entrusted him so completely.
“I... I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t,” Esteban lifts his head and offers a smile that tells Aitor to not over think things. “There’s a reason why you’re sitting on this couch and not José even though he’s known José for so much longer and better.”
“José wouldn’t have any-”
“No, he wouldn’t but he’s not as easy to speak to about this, is he? Oh he would support us but he won’t give us much more than that. He knows it too.”
Aitor never thought of it that way. José’s emotions and character aren’t as easy to read as the media would like to think. There are times happiness, joy, sorrow, anger and everything between could easily be etched onto his features yet ten seconds later a mask of cool slips in, overshadowing everything else. However, José has always made himself available to his team if anyone needed someone to speak to. He made it essential for the club to know this the day he became manager.
“I don’t know, Esteban. I think you should give him the benefit of doubt. He has always said-”
“He’s right.”
Aitor whips around to see Rui leaning against the door frame, his demeanor tense yet defeated at the same time.
“Opening up to José isn’t easy because he remains so closed off you feel stupid while you’re speaking to him,” Rui shrugs before he pushes off the door and walks up behind where Esteban is sitting and places his hands on his shoulders. “Try it next time. Try to talk about something that matters to you and he’ll cut you off.”
Aitor shakes his head. “José can’t be like that. There’s no way.”
Rui smiles sadly. “Try it.”
And that is how things truly begin for Aitor and José.
*
There are days Aitor wishes he was still playing the game he loves with his entire heart, body and soul. Players with Cristiano’s and Iker’s passion and dedication make his heart swell whenever he sees them fight for the club every match. He misses that feeling, that want and hunger. He misses the burn in his thighs after a good hard training session and the way his fingers would twitch nervously before an important match (they still do - José’s noticed the way his fingers would jump before a match against Barça every single time and has laughed at him every single time).
But he wouldn’t trade this experience of being a coach for a club like Real Madrid either. Aitor’s lucky and he knows that.
“What are you thinking about?”
José’s smile floats before his eyes and Aitor returns it. It’s easy.
“Just remembering my days of when I was like Albiol.”
José laughs, his face splitting into a grin. “Not Carvalho?”
Aitor shakes his head, suppressing his own laughter. “If I had half of his talent I would have twice as better career.”
He expects a chuckle, a smirk, something other than the stony silence José gives him.
“You underestimate yourself and that’s the problem.”
When he walks away Aitor doesn’t understand what went wrong.
*
It’s ridiculous.
Real Madrid is on their way to another comfy win and all Aitor can think about is José. He’s making jokes and smiling and laughing and is just so free Aitor doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. José enthusiastically gestures with his hands, waving them in the air, as he recounts a story about his son.
And it’s ridiculous how he stares at José’s lips and wonders what they’d taste like. Aitor suspects like minty gum because the Portuguese man always happened to be chewing on it. He doesn’t mean to stare but somehow his eyes always travel to his pink lips and he gets lost in thought, no matter where they may be - and a football match is no exception.
(And really, he’s thought about it; what it would feel like just to lean over and kiss José. Would José protest? Would he push him away and ask him what the fuck Aitor is doing? Would he fire him? Because Aitor feels like that could be a reason for expulsion. Hell, he’d probably leave himself after doing that becau-)
“Aitor... Aitor!”
It doesn’t help when Aitor snaps out of it José licks his lips as he places his hand on his thigh to get his attention. Aitor becomes hyper aware of his surroundings and sits up stiffly in his seat. He doesn’t know if he should shake off José’s hand or not.
Why is his hand still on his thigh?
“Uh... Yes?”
“You weren’t listening to a thing I was saying, were you?” José is smirking so he’s not mad and when he finally retracts his hand, Aitor misses it.
“No no,” Aitor stumbles over his tongue as he tries not to turn completely red. Rui’s eyes are on him as well and there’s something in them. He’s staring him with such intensity. “I just-”
Luckily Cristiano cuts him off with a beautiful goal and no one knows anything else but cheers and happiness.
*
“How long?”
Rui corners Aitor after the match. Aitor isn’t sure what he means.
“How long have you liked José?”
“I... What?”
And really, Aitor just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He doesn’t want to talk about this with anyone and definitely not Rui. Even hearing him asking about it out loud is foreign to his ears.
“It’s okay,” Rui says quietly, his eyes still intense. “I just... It’s José, you know? I have known him for a very long time so if you-”
And Aitor cuts him off because this is a conversation he’s never going to have. Ever.
“I think you’re imagining things. And we need to hurry up and go to the press before they make up stories instead.”
He pushes past Rui, smoothing his flowing hair as he leaves and heads to media room.
(And when he goes home later on that night, he pushes the thought of José out of his mind completely because nothing is ever going to happen. He is his boss, the coach of Real Madrid and Aitor isn’t going to fuck up his own career just because he has feelings for the man. He’s smarter than that.)
The most troubling thought he has when he goes to sleep that night is he realizes he has feelings for the Portuguese...
*
He begins to notice things more and more every day. Like the salt and pepper colour of José’s hair and how his nervous habit is to run his fingers through it when he’s too lost in thoughts of formation and strategy. He also notices how much more relaxed and friendly José is with everyone, constantly joking and laughing with the players and staff alike.
Aitor also notices how Rui is always suddenly around José at any given opportunity.
And he realizes it’s ridiculous to be jealous of Rui because they share a friendship that has lasted many years and throughout different clubs but Aitor cannot help but feel prickly when Rui leans in and whispers something into José’s ear that makes the older man laugh, his entire face lighting up like glow sticks at a pop concert.
It’s ridiculous for numerous reasons and Aitor tells himself to get over it.
However it is harder said than done.
“Aitor... Hey, Aitor!”
He cuts his eyes over to Rui who looks like he’s two seconds away from bursting out laughing.
“...What?”
“You look like you were remembering something that makes you really angry so your face was all creased,” Rui says with a grin.
And Aitor doesn’t know what provokes him but the words fall out of his mouth.
“Have you and José... ever been together?”
“W-what?” Rui chokes as his face turns from jovial to shock almost immediately. “You’re joking, yes?”
Aitor instantaneously feels ashamed and stupid. He ducks his head to look at his shoes. “Just ignore I asked that okay?” He turns to leave but a hand on his wrist stops him.
Rui forces Aitor to look him in the eyes. His are dead calm now.
“Tell me why you want to know or even care.”
“I...” It’s a trap - a fucking trap - but Aitor got himself into this and it is going to be pretty difficult to get himself out without telling the truth. “No reason.”
“Aitor...” Rui sighs as he lets go of his wrist. “Why won’t you admit it? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” When Aitor doesn’t respond Rui smiles sadly. “No, José and I never did anything. He’s my mentor and the reason why I am here today.”
“I...” Aitor doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like a complete fool just because a rush of jealously filled his body before rationality did. “I’m sorry, Rui... I-”
Rui smiles wistfully. “José’s a good man, if you ever get over yourself and talk to him.”
“I always talk to him.”
“About this?”
Aitor stays quiet. He’s starting to hate himself a little.
“Look. It’s really up to you what you want to do, tell him or not. All I am saying is that maybe telling him is the best thing you could rather than keeping it to yourself,” Rui pauses for a moment then smirks. “If I noticed then maybe he has too.”
And really, how can he think of anything else after that?
*
Esteban tries to tell anyone who is willing to listen (which isn’t too many) about the vintage typewriter he found online. It’s in England and he will need to go pick it up (one simply does not ship a vintage item like this). However out of everyone in the room, Aitor is the only one is actually paying attention to him until...
Until from across the room he sees Cristiano pull up one leg of his shorts and point to his thigh, his other hand gesturing wildly while he spits rapidly in Portuguese. Next to him José leans in touches the strong muscle, digging his fingers in lightly.
Aitor knows - knows - it’s nothing; they are discussing a strain Cristiano has been feeling in upper leg for a few days now. But what he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach must reflect on his face because when José looks up and catches his eye, the Portuguese man’s eyes light up with surprise.
Aitor leaves the changing room immediately.
“Aitor... Are you-”
Aitor looks up from his desk, his face tight and strained. He tries to smile at José who looks incredibly worried (and Aitor would be warmed by the sentiment if he didn’t still feel ashamed by his earlier actions) but it comes across as a grimace instead.
“José.”
“What’s wrong, Aitor? You just...”
José doesn’t finish. Instead he takes a seat from across Aitor’s desk, folding his legs in front of him. His eyes are warm, calm but intense at the same that Aitor looks down at his hands almost immediately.
“You’ve been acting different lately, Aitor...”
He doesn’t know why but Aitor forces himself to look up, to face the man who has the balls to come here and confront him. It’s the least he can do.
“Did I do something? Are you not happy?”
Aitor bites out a laugh which to his own ears sounds forced and hollow.
“I... I am fine, José. It’s nothing.”
“Aitor...” The Portuguese man starts again. “Explain to me what that was in the locker room.” His voice is steady now, like he demands Aitor to obey.
A shiver runs through his body.
“It was nothing.”
“Aitor.”
It’s a warning. A warning that Aitor can’t help but feel attracted to.
He averts his gaze before speaking. “Have you ever been attracted to someone you’re not supposed to be?”
There’s silence and Aitor knows José understands. He’s a smart man, one of the most intelligent people Aitor has ever met. And he didn’t exactly hide his words in a puzzle. Aitor’s tired of games, even if it’s with himself.
When silence stretches for a little longer than Aitor is comfortable with, he sighs before burying his head in his hands. “I’ve made a fool of myself again,” He mutters to himself, feeling defeated and embarrassed. He clears his throat though he doesn’t lift his head. “Just forget what I said, okay and I’ll leave as quickly and quietly as I can.”
“Leave to where?”
The sound of puzzlement in José’s voice gets his attention and he finally looks up, greeted with a confused look on the manager’s face.
“To... Don’t you want me to leave? After this?”
“After what? You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t want me to leave... even if I-”
José cuts him off as he stands up. “You are not going anywhere until I tell you. You belong here in Madrid.”
When he walks towards the door, Aitor swears he hears with me. But he doesn’t hold hope within words he may or may not have heard. He won’t do that to himself.
“You are a fucking idiot,” Rui says when he tells him what happened later that evening.
(Okay, so he didn’t tell him willingly. Instead Rui showed up to his home, wondering what had happened exactly because José had looked frazzled and unbalanced when he was leaving the training grounds that day. Aitor doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information.)
“You’re right. About that and that he shuts down. He didn’t want to talk about it which I didn’t either but... It’s like I know he knows what I meant but he made no real acknowledgement of it.”
“Ah,” Rui smiles sadly. “Welcome to the real José Mourinho.”
*
His skin prickles with embarrassment whenever José is around now but he cannot help it. It’s like an allergic reaction that has been programmed into his brain. He knows. Of course he does. Aitor told him in not so many words and now Aitor has to live with that knowledge. That José knows... And doesn’t care.
That’s what hurts the most.
“You are looking a little tired today, Aitor,” José says with his usual smile, his eyes crinkling by the corners. (It’s a little silly that Aitor wants to reach up and rub the tiny lines away with his thumb.)
Aitor returns the smile though it isn’t as bright. “It’s getting warm at night now. I couldn’t sleep properly.”
José laughs. “Well, invest in air conditioning. I cannot have my assistant coach looking haggard. What will the players think, hmm?”
His eyes linger on Aitor for a second too long and Aitor feels his skin prickle again, this time with a different emotion.
It hasn’t been an easy two weeks. After the discussion (or lack thereof) they shared in his office, Aitor’s mind hasn’t been able to turn off. Buzz buzz buzz whirl whirl whirl. Too many thoughts were crammed into his head like butterflies in a jar. Why did he tell him? What good ever comes out of telling the person you are infatuated with your feelings for them when you know it will never be reciprocated? Aitor had mentally beat himself up over it until he poured himself his third glass of wine one night ten days ago and decided it could be worse... José hasn’t ignored him nor treated him any differently. He has still been his friendly, sarcastic self.
It is just hard for Aitor. He feels guilty... yet not, in the same sitting.
“What do you suggest I do, mister?” He knows he’s being a smug bastard but it’s easier this way.
José smirks and looks like his about to chirp back a reply when suddenly his expression changes so quickly, Aitor is confused. Now José smiles kindly and reaches out to pat Aitor’s shoulders.
“Take it easy today, okay? Maybe just watch from the bench?”
Aitor shakes his head, shocked yet touched. José cares about his wellbeing?
“No, no. I should be fine. I just won’t join in the running today like I usually do.”
José narrows his eyes and stares for a moment before shrugging. “If I see you over doing it, you’re sitting out and that’s that.”
He walks away and Aitor is floored.
*
It’s too hot so José pulls at his collar.
Then kisses his neck.
And bites his collar bone.
And Aitor feels like he’s dying. Like he’s slowly leaving his body and watching himself down below as he floats away from the earth.
José has him up against the wall, his knee between Aitor’s legs, his lips doing incredible things to his neck. A hand plays with the hem of Aitor’s shirt and his breath hitches.
He wants it so much. Everything.
When José’s hand slips into his pants, the shrill sound of his alarm clock shocks him awake.
Well, damn.
*
“You’re telling me you can’t go to dinner because you have to work in your garden?”
Rui looks at José skeptically, his eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline while Aitor watches quietly from the other side of the office.
José laughs as he pushes his glasses further onto his nose. “It’s crazy right? And unlike me, I agree. But I have decided to eat healthier and starting a garden makes perfect sense, no? I am old now; I have to watch what I eat otherwise I’ll die quicker than I’d like to.”
Rui stares at him for another moment before turning on his heels and exiting the office, muttering something about crazy hippies.
“You’re not old.”
José turns his smile to Aitor who quickly looks away, like a child would after yelling out a curse word among a crowd and then attempting to hide. The Portuguese lets out a huff of laughter.
“You don’t need to compliment me when it’s just the two of us, Aitor,” José grins, his eyes teasing. “Save it for when Rui’s around. Always challenging me he is.”
Aitor lets him ramble on for a moment before the room falls silent again.
“I’m serious. You’re pretty healthy as it is. You run half the drills along with the team. I really don’t think you need to be healthier than what you are now.”
The tips of his ears turn unsightly red as José just stares at him, his eyes intense, soul searching. This isn’t the first time he has wanted to retract his statement and hell this won’t be his last. He’s about to make amends when José smiles again, reaches forward and taps Aitor’s not-so-smooth cheeks.
“Remind me to call you before every meal. You can be my... consultant.”
And then he does something completely catches Aitor by unawares. He kisses the soft skin of Aitor’s cheeks (although he has not shaved) before turning away without another word.
At this point, Aitor feels like it’s slipping out of his hands.
*
Time continues. Of course it does. They have a world class club they need to worry about after all. The Champions League Quarterfinals are just around the corner and it’s time to buckle down and focus.
“Esteban... Esteban! Run faster!” Aitor hollers at the young man before dropping his voice so only the man next to him could hear. “Otherwise no sex for you and Rui for a week.”
José laughs as he scratches his nose. “It’s still a little surreal that they are together, you know?”
Aitor’s a little surprised that José want to discuss Rui’s and Esteban’s relationship because Rui had made it seem like the older man didn’t want to acknowledge it.
Aitor shrugs his shoulders before turning to face José. “It is but they work in some weird way. Esteban has always struck me as a wise young man for his age and Rui... Well Rui needs someone unlike him.” Aitor pauses to let out a slight chuckle. “Sometimes, Esteban is the bigger adult than Rui.”
José’s face breaks out in a grin, his teeth bare. “Rui’s young at heart, always has been. That’s what I have always liked about him. He never takes life too seriously.”
“Until he’s getting thrown out of matches.”
“Well, he’s passionate which is never a bad quality.”
“As is Esteban. I passed by him and Xabi one day and they were in a deep conversation about planets and planetary movement. Was it weird? Definitely but he was so engrossed in the conversation that he was carrying most of it. He is an intelligent man.”
José turns his head slightly to lay his eye upon Rui who was working closely with Kaka. “I have known him for many years now and I still remember the day I met him. He has always been brash and outgoing, it’s what made him standout compared to the rest. He was never afraid of speaking his mind although he may not be the most knowledgeable.” He slides his eyes back to Aitor, smiling slightly. “And Esteban is his exact opposite: quiet, polite and highly intelligent. God knows what their conversations besides football would be about but I am happy for them.”
There isn’t much Aitor can say because this is the opposite of what Rui said about him, that he wouldn’t be open about other people’s feelings, that he’d shut down. Aitor has never seen him so open and especially about other people he cares about.
And when José lays a hand on his shoulder, letting it linger before he pushes Aitor and tells him to gather the defenders together, Aitor wonders how much of the man he still has yet to see.
*
“You know, José was seeing a young man in Milan when we were there.”
Aitor tries not to glare from across the table where he and Rui are sat having lunch.
“And the point of you telling me this is?”
“If you’re worried about him not liking men or that he wouldn’t see you in that way...” Rui trails off when he sees Aitor twist a poor defenceless napkin between his hands.
“Look. I don’t need or want relationship advice from you, okay?”
“But you and José aren’t in a relationship... Yet.”
“Rui...”
“Okay, okay,” Rui backs into his seat, chuckling quietly. “I just don’t know why you won’t even pursue it. I know José isn’t the most open person but he seems a little more relaxed lately, smiling more. I think now is the time.”
Aitor looks down at his food, the meat half eaten scattered along the leaves of lettuce. “I don’t know, Rui. Just leave it.”
But of course, the thought lingers in the back of his mind.
*
“Aitor, dinner at my place tonight at 10. Bring a good bottle of wine and don’t be late.”
Aitor looks up from his desk over to the doorframe of his office where José leans against, dressed in the club’s training gear, his graying hair fluffy and well kept (except for the few strays that always seem to never be under control).
“...What?”
José crinkles his nose but laughs at the same time. “I’m inviting a few people over for dinner so you better show up.”
Aitor accepts with a feeling of disappointment heavy in his limbs.
He wonders what José was like when he was younger. Aitor can see him being a playboy, in the sense that he would get attention from boys and girls everywhere he’d go because of his good looks and confidence. He wonders if José was the type of man to frequent nightclubs. However, because José doesn’t seem to be one who needs false admiration (though a luring look from seductive eyes always did Aitor in... when he was younger).
José works the room perfectly. There are only five other guests but Jose never leaves one long enough to have them feel uncomfortable despite everyone not knowing each other well. Aitor has Rui at least and he’s thankful for that, no matter how disappointed he may be.
“Great choice of wine, Aitor,” José’s purrs into his ear as the older man comes up from behind him and pulls him in for a slight-side-hug.
The heat from his body, the sheer fact that he’s so close to José he can smell him is doing nothing for Aitor except embarrass him. He clears his throat before pulling away regrettably.
“Ah well, no one knows wine like me.”
“Oh really?” José asks with the rise of an eyebrow. Aitor’s eyes do a quick sweep of him from head to toe. All black, causal in a t-shirt and slacks. He looks perfect. (He always does).
Aitor takes a sip of the said wine from his glass before nodding. He can do this. “My uncle used to own a vineyard in Bilbao. It’s said that his father knew Marques de Riscal,” Aitor laughs and takes another sip. “Anyway, as a boy during the summers I would run around his vineyard attempting to help him though I didn’t do much more than cause trouble. My first drink was with my uncle and we had the finest glass of Marques de Reserva. I didn’t appreciate it then but I do now.”
Smiling fondly, José nods as he gestures to Aitor’s glass. “May I?”
And before he even knows what Jose is asking of him exactly he says yes. José reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Aitor’s and pulls the glass towards him. Eyes locked on each other, Jose leans in and takes a sip carefully, pulling away only when necessary though he doesn’t drop his hold on Aitor’s hand. He swirls the wine around his tongue before swallowing, his eyes dangerous now.
“This is Gran Reserva, no?”
Aitor nods dumbly, like his head is on a bobble.
“I have a different bottle in my collection... in my wine cellar, if you’d like to... taste?”
The question hangs in the air but only for a heartbeat before Aitor breathes out a yes.
He tries to focus his eyes on anything other than José’s back side as he follows him to the wine cellar apparently but it’s awfully difficult to do. Especially when José’s wearing the trousers that hug his thighs and ass so perfectly.
Aitor suddenly has no idea what he is doing. His mind is racing with a hundred and one thoughts. What were they going to do? Was it really just to check out wine? Once they were alone, what if Aitor lost control? What if...
A warm body collides with his, back to front and Aitor’s cheeks burn with embarrassment when José turns around, smirking at him.
“Eager for wine, Aitor?”
Aitor tries to laugh but it sounds mangled and strained. José just smiles even wider.
“I picked up many different wines in Italy, so rich and full of body. Do you prefer red or white?”
Aitor frowns. “Red.” He hopes this isn’t entirely about wine.
“I like a good white from time to time, especially in the summer time near the beach.”
And Aitor can see it. José is on the beach somewhere in Portugal, his hair ruffled gracefully by the wind, his body and demeanour relaxed against a lounge chair as the waves crash against the rocks in front of him. He would be holding a wine glass by the stem and swirl around the pale liquid before bringing it to his lips for a taste.
He wants it so much.
“Aitor?”
His eyes find José’s and he’s no longer looking smug, but serious with a tinge of innocent sincerity shaded in them. “Do you still...?” José nods his head in the direction of the door.
“Of course.”
They go inside and it is impressive. The room isn’t very large but from floor to ceiling rows and rows of wine bottles line the walls. Aitor’s eyes dart in all directions, drinking in the sheer brilliance of the collection.
“José... Wow.”
José lets out a little chuckle. “Do you like it?” He walks past Aitor but not before curling his fingers around his wrist lightly and pulls him forward as he goes. (A tiny tremor runs through his body but Aitor hopes - prays - José doesn’t notice.) José leads him to a section in the corner, where the little cubby holes have covers on them.
“I am a man,” José starts with a coy little smile on his lips, “who believes wine is made to be drunk, not preserving like some do. However,” He pauses again to reach for a bottle underneath the slip. Aitor follows his hands with his eyes and it feels anticlimactic when he pulls out a dark wine bottle. “My favorite wine I haven’t had in twenty... five years.”
It is an Argentine Malbec from 1967, the year the grapes in Argentina only produced three barrels of wine. Not even Aitor’s uncle had this hands on that.
“You’ve had that before?” Aitor asks, not even attempting to hide the awe in his voice. “It’s one of the hardest wines to come across.”
José nods. “A man has his ways, Aitor...” Their eyes meet and there’s something hidden in José’s though his intentions are clear. He caresses the top of the bottle lightly, running his fingers down the spine. “Care for a taste?”
“You would open it for me? Really?”
“Oh Aitor,” And José sounds a little sad, like he just heard some bad news. He reaches out with a free hand and touches Aitor’s cheek lightly, caressing the soft skin with the back of his hand.
Aitor freezes where he is, not able to move even if he wanted to. His breathing is too loud and it’s what he focuses on because if he didn’t he might do something incredibly stupid.
“Why me, Aitor?”
“W-what?”
“Out of everyone, why me?”
Aitor cannot believe they are having this conversation and here of all places. In a fucking wine cellar. The center of his palms begin to itch and slight sweat. He wipes them against his pant leg.
“José, maybe we should get back-”
Cornered, José presses Aitor against one of the walls and all he can think of is ‘don’t break the bottles!’ Because really, if he thinks of José looming over him, a bottle of the most expensive Malbec between their bodies being the only barrier preventing them from touching, stomach to stomach, there might be wine all over the floor rather shortly.
“You don’t want to talk about this now, Aitor? You wanted to that day.”
He’s not accusing. His eyes are still warm, friendly and mesmerizing that Aitor has to close his own and take in a very deep breath.
“José... It was nothing.”
“Open your eyes and say that.”
It’s a long pregnant pause before Aitor exhales and lets his eyes meet José’s.
“Tell me you’re not attracted to me.
“José...”
“Ask me.”
“Ask you what?” Aitor has no idea where this is leading but he doesn’t like whatsoever.
“Ask me if I find you attractive.”
His breath hitches in his throat and though the sound is very low José’s eyes flicker to his lips when he hears it.
“Jose... I-”
“Ask me.” And really there is no room for argument.
“Are... Are you attracted to me?”
Aitor expects a no and hopes for a yes but what he gets is the bottle of Malbec pressed against his stomach just under his ribs so it’s slightly uncomfortable and then José’s sliding his lips against Aitor’s and he can’t think of anything else. His arms come around the Portuguese, around his upper arms and he tries his best to pull him close as he can.
It’s not a hungry kiss, not one that makes them want to forget about the guests and shed their clothes right then and there. No, it’s a gentle, exploring kiss and José shifts so the bottle of wine isn’t in the way.
Aitor makes the first move and darts his tongue out quickly, just to see if José would chase him. However, instead of falling for it, José pulls way, the corners of his lips curled upward.
“We need to talk, Aitor.”
“Okay.” And really Aitor would agree to anything right now.
José laughs. “Not now. I am entertaining guests and here I am...”
“...Entertaining a guest?”
Laughter cuts the tension and José sneaks another kiss, just a peck of lips before he leads them out of the cellar.
*
Rui gets to him first. Of course he does.
“So...” He starts, his eyes darting all over Aitor’s face. “Did you and Mou fuck yet?”
Aitor chokes on his spit as he shakes his head adamantly, his hair flowing through the air. “No, no. Of course not.”
“Well, why the fuck not?”
And really, he should have expected nothing less from Rui, the man who ultimately has no filter. Aitor glares at him before looking down at his fingernails, like the dirt beneath them is that much more interesting.
“Rui... It’s not that easy, okay? You don’t understand so drop it.”
Never one to give up without a fight, Rui takes a step forward, ready to argue his point when the man of the hour blesses them with his presence.
“Now, now, Rui, you aren’t bothering our good man Aitor here, are you?” José turns to both of them with a big grin on his lips (and when he lingers his gaze on Aitor, the other man can feel the intent behind his eyes).
“Never,” Rui answers with a smile of his own. He has known José for a long time now, a lifetime. He knows how to handle the man. “I was just wondering where he had gone off to. It was probably for a good twenty minutes or so and you know me, José, I got worried.” His lips curve into a smirk as he waits for a justifiable answer.
“He was with me,” José responds, his eyes narrowed but calm like he wants Rui to challenge him. “We went down to the wine cellar.”
“Oh, really? Anything interesting?”
“Actually yes,” José steps forward, leaning in towards his staff. His voice drops. “I was showing him my favorite bottle.”
It’s a little comedic how fast Aitor’s cheeks redden even though he tries to duck his head as fast as he can.
“Oh did you, José?” Rui turns to Aitor. “Did you like it, Aitor? His bottle?”
Aitor knows they’re having a go at him, which isn’t anything entirely new but it is different now because they both know he has feelings towards José and making jokes when he’s right there... about José bottle of all things... when all Aitor wants to do is have a sip, perhaps a long drink...
“Aitor?”
Aitor snaps out of his reverie which only adds to his embarrassment because Rui’s grinning like a lunatic and if Aitor was a different man he would have happily wiped it off his face with his knuckles.
“Thinking of José’s bottle, are you?”
José cracks up laughing, no longer able to hold it in and Aitor mutters under his breath how much he hates them both before storming off.
One by one the guests leave with José bidding each one a safe journey home until Rui and Aitor are all who remain.
“I guess you two should be getting on home too, training tomorrow and you know how I don’t like tardiness.”
Rui doesn’t even try to conceal his yawn. “I am too tired to argue with that anyway. Until tomorrow, gentlemen.” He shakes both of his colleagues’ hands before parting for the door.
The silence that falls upon them doesn’t go unnoticed by Aitor, who tries to come up with a quick solution.
“So... perhaps I should be leaving too.”
“I thought this would be a great time to have our little conversation, Aitor. Don’t you think so?”
Aitor coughs before nodding. “Sure. Lead the way.”
So José does, to his family room where he ushers Aitor to the plush couches. They sit next to each other yet with some distance between them.
“So what exactly do you want from me, Aitor?”
For some reason the question surprises him, like Aitor didn’t believe José would be so forthcoming with this subject (although he should know better by now).
“Look...” Aitor feels himself becoming riled up instead of shying away and that too is shocking. It’s like the feelings inside are too much to contain. “I am not asking for anything, José. I never did.”
Reaching across, José places a gentle hand on Aitor’s thigh, his body turning slightly towards him. His face is calm but he’s thinking: Aitor can see it in his eyes.
“I never said you did,” he speaks softly, like every word is measured. “But if you could what would you ask of me? Honestly.”
Aitor laughs. Is this a trick question? Because to him it definitely feels that way. He swallows thickly before answering. “I don’t know if I would ask you of anything without knowing if you feel the same way as I do or something similar. Otherwise, it’s fruitless, no?”
It’s only a moment - perhaps just a second or two - between the sound of José’s dull laughter and the press of his lips against Aitor’s. Aitor lets out a small gasp as he is pushed against the back of the couch, José’s body warm along his.
“Aitor.”
And his body thrums at the sound of his own name from such lips he has thought of on more than one occasion. Aitor arches his body up ever so slightly, craving friction, more of anything José is willing to give him.
With a gentle little nip to Aitor’s bottom lip, José pulls away with a coy smile. “If you didn’t get an answer in the wine cellar I pray to God you’ve got it now.”
Aitor does the only thing he can think of: he reaches up and pulls José back down for another kiss, his finger wrapping around the curve of his neck. He’s about to press their lips together again when José slides a finger on to his lips instead.
“Not until you answer my question first, Aitor.”
Aitor considers it for a moment before catching José by surprise and forces José to him. Right before he kisses him - hard, fast and with purpose - he whispers, “We can talk later.”
PART TWO