Say His Name
Title:Say His Name
Rating: PG I guess
Pairing: Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres
Summary: It's his name, which not even death can take from you. Fernando Jose Torres Sanz, the name Sergio loves best in the world.
Warning: character death
Word Count: 880
Disclaimer: I made it all up, none of this is based on anything factual, thank goodness.
A/N: This fic sort of came out of nowhere. Its perhaps the fastest I've ever written something, and actually, I think its one of the few fics I've been pleased with upon completion. I read Fransisco Goldman's 'Say Her Name' (beautiful book, do check it out) & there was a particular passage that stood out to me, that haunted me with its beauty & heartbreaking sadness. The fic is based on that passage
This fic is for kissmecait17 just because, well she knows why & for kylijah who endured my insanity yesterday during the US/Brazil match & amazingly enough is still talking to me. (I really went off the deep end) They both saw the first draft of this & encouraged me to post it, so here I am finally posting it. Enjoy
“Hold her tight, if you have her; hold her tight, I thought, that’s my advice to all the living. Breathe her in, put your nose in her hair, breathe her in deeply. Say her name. It will always be her name. Not even death can steal it. Same alive as dead, always. Aura Estrada.”
Fernando
“Hi I’m Fernando?” He smiles nervously at you and offers his hand.
You shake it; of course, you shake it, and smile back and reply. “Just Fernando? Is that all I get? Don’t you have last name……names?”
He looks at you, puzzled. As if he can’t possibly imagine why you’d want to know. “Yes, why do you want to know?”
You grin and call out to him as you head out onto the pitch to practice. “If we’re going to be best friends, Fernando, I’m going to want to know more than your first name.”
He follows you out onto the pitch, a huge grin on his face. “Ok, I’ll tell you….if you manage to block one of my goals.”
You smirk, he’s making it too easy, but you like that, you like him, you like Fernando. “Well I guess by the end of practice I’ll know your full name.”
He smiles at you, not so shyly, and you smile back. It’s only a first name, but it already feels like so much more.
Jose
“What is your middle name?”
You look down at his hand, his long fingers splayed across your naked torso, and his head resting on your shoulder.
He looks up at you, his eyes full of laughter. “You didn’t think to ask that before we fucked?”
You grin-that Chesire cat grin he loves so much. “I didn’t think it was that important before, but now that we’ve slept together I want to know.”
“I must have been pretty good.” You tell him he was perfect and watch as his face turns even redder, bringing out his freckles. He mumbles into your chest. “Jose.”
You try the words out. “Fernando Jose.” They sound wonderful coming out of your mouth. You think they are possibly the two most beautiful words you’ve ever spoken. You tell him, and smile when his cheeks turn pink. Later you will tell him that you love him. Those will be the three most important words you will ever say.
Torres
It is the first name you look for on the pitch, and the last one you watch walk off the pitch. Torres, you see it stretched across his shoulder blades and it sends chills down your spine. You throw your hand around that shoulder and pull him close, whispering in his ear.
“Nice one Torres.”
He smiles and hugs you back, whispering back in your ear. “I love when you call me that.”
You frown for a moment, and he notices. “What?”
“Everyone gets to call you that; the whole world gets to call you Torres. Not just me.”
He pulls you even closer, his lips ghosting over your neck. “No, but I like it when you say it best.”
You hug him tightly, for just a moment, breathing him in-the sweat, the residue of his aftershave,the smell of his shampoo, you love it all. You then press your lips softly, just once, against his cheek and run off to your position, a huge smile on your face. Torres, everyone calls him that, but you know, now, that you’re the only one who makes him smile when you say it.
Sanz
You see it, but it looks strange to you, this name. Sure, you know it, but it isn’t familiar to you, not like the rest of his name. Now you see it on every form you sign, Sanz. It was his mother’s name, and so a part of him, a part you couldn’t help but love.
You used to joke with him about switching his name.
“Fernando Sanz, that’d be funny. Imagine that on the back of your jersey.”
“No thanks. I like Fernando Torres just fine.” He pouts. You are tempted to kiss that pout away.
“Can I call you that, please?” You beg.
He relents a bit. “Only on very special occasions.”
You grin. He, as usual, interprets your thoughts correctly.
“I will kick you out of bed if you use it while we’re fucking.”
You never use it during sex though; you use it afterwards instead, whispering it softly as he drifts off to sleep.
“I love you Fernando Sanz.” Too exhausted to be properly annoyed he always swats you away, a smile on his face. You think, then, that his last name is the loveliest word you’ve ever heard.
The doctor comes out to talk to you, he uses his last name, and you cringe. He tells you it was a heart attack. Not unusual for an athlete who played at the highest levels, who put himself under continuous pressure trying to be the best.
“But he was retired, he hadn’t played in years.” You croak.
The doctor looks at you sadly. “I know, but sometimes…..these things happen.”
He asks you if you’d like to see him, using his last name again. You think it’s the saddest word you’ve ever heard.
Fernando Jose Torres Sanz
You say his name to yourself sometimes. The words are beautiful, yet they taste bittersweet, but you can’t help yourself. You loved that name; no you love it-every single part of it. You love the person attached to that name. It is his name, which not even death can take away from you. It will always be his name. Same alive as dead, always. Fernando Jose Torres Sanz.
His name.
Rating: PG I guess
Pairing: Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres
Summary: It's his name, which not even death can take from you. Fernando Jose Torres Sanz, the name Sergio loves best in the world.
Warning: character death
Word Count: 880
Disclaimer: I made it all up, none of this is based on anything factual, thank goodness.
A/N: This fic sort of came out of nowhere. Its perhaps the fastest I've ever written something, and actually, I think its one of the few fics I've been pleased with upon completion. I read Fransisco Goldman's 'Say Her Name' (beautiful book, do check it out) & there was a particular passage that stood out to me, that haunted me with its beauty & heartbreaking sadness. The fic is based on that passage
This fic is for kissmecait17 just because, well she knows why & for kylijah who endured my insanity yesterday during the US/Brazil match & amazingly enough is still talking to me. (I really went off the deep end) They both saw the first draft of this & encouraged me to post it, so here I am finally posting it. Enjoy
“Hold her tight, if you have her; hold her tight, I thought, that’s my advice to all the living. Breathe her in, put your nose in her hair, breathe her in deeply. Say her name. It will always be her name. Not even death can steal it. Same alive as dead, always. Aura Estrada.”
Fernando
“Hi I’m Fernando?” He smiles nervously at you and offers his hand.
You shake it; of course, you shake it, and smile back and reply. “Just Fernando? Is that all I get? Don’t you have last name……names?”
He looks at you, puzzled. As if he can’t possibly imagine why you’d want to know. “Yes, why do you want to know?”
You grin and call out to him as you head out onto the pitch to practice. “If we’re going to be best friends, Fernando, I’m going to want to know more than your first name.”
He follows you out onto the pitch, a huge grin on his face. “Ok, I’ll tell you….if you manage to block one of my goals.”
You smirk, he’s making it too easy, but you like that, you like him, you like Fernando. “Well I guess by the end of practice I’ll know your full name.”
He smiles at you, not so shyly, and you smile back. It’s only a first name, but it already feels like so much more.
Jose
“What is your middle name?”
You look down at his hand, his long fingers splayed across your naked torso, and his head resting on your shoulder.
He looks up at you, his eyes full of laughter. “You didn’t think to ask that before we fucked?”
You grin-that Chesire cat grin he loves so much. “I didn’t think it was that important before, but now that we’ve slept together I want to know.”
“I must have been pretty good.” You tell him he was perfect and watch as his face turns even redder, bringing out his freckles. He mumbles into your chest. “Jose.”
You try the words out. “Fernando Jose.” They sound wonderful coming out of your mouth. You think they are possibly the two most beautiful words you’ve ever spoken. You tell him, and smile when his cheeks turn pink. Later you will tell him that you love him. Those will be the three most important words you will ever say.
Torres
It is the first name you look for on the pitch, and the last one you watch walk off the pitch. Torres, you see it stretched across his shoulder blades and it sends chills down your spine. You throw your hand around that shoulder and pull him close, whispering in his ear.
“Nice one Torres.”
He smiles and hugs you back, whispering back in your ear. “I love when you call me that.”
You frown for a moment, and he notices. “What?”
“Everyone gets to call you that; the whole world gets to call you Torres. Not just me.”
He pulls you even closer, his lips ghosting over your neck. “No, but I like it when you say it best.”
You hug him tightly, for just a moment, breathing him in-the sweat, the residue of his aftershave,the smell of his shampoo, you love it all. You then press your lips softly, just once, against his cheek and run off to your position, a huge smile on your face. Torres, everyone calls him that, but you know, now, that you’re the only one who makes him smile when you say it.
Sanz
You see it, but it looks strange to you, this name. Sure, you know it, but it isn’t familiar to you, not like the rest of his name. Now you see it on every form you sign, Sanz. It was his mother’s name, and so a part of him, a part you couldn’t help but love.
You used to joke with him about switching his name.
“Fernando Sanz, that’d be funny. Imagine that on the back of your jersey.”
“No thanks. I like Fernando Torres just fine.” He pouts. You are tempted to kiss that pout away.
“Can I call you that, please?” You beg.
He relents a bit. “Only on very special occasions.”
You grin. He, as usual, interprets your thoughts correctly.
“I will kick you out of bed if you use it while we’re fucking.”
You never use it during sex though; you use it afterwards instead, whispering it softly as he drifts off to sleep.
“I love you Fernando Sanz.” Too exhausted to be properly annoyed he always swats you away, a smile on his face. You think, then, that his last name is the loveliest word you’ve ever heard.
The doctor comes out to talk to you, he uses his last name, and you cringe. He tells you it was a heart attack. Not unusual for an athlete who played at the highest levels, who put himself under continuous pressure trying to be the best.
“But he was retired, he hadn’t played in years.” You croak.
The doctor looks at you sadly. “I know, but sometimes…..these things happen.”
He asks you if you’d like to see him, using his last name again. You think it’s the saddest word you’ve ever heard.
Fernando Jose Torres Sanz
You say his name to yourself sometimes. The words are beautiful, yet they taste bittersweet, but you can’t help yourself. You loved that name; no you love it-every single part of it. You love the person attached to that name. It is his name, which not even death can take away from you. It will always be his name. Same alive as dead, always. Fernando Jose Torres Sanz.
His name.