Fic: Reunion
Title: Reunion
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: True in the land of imagination only.
Summary: It’s after the first leg of the Real Madrid-Liverpool clash and Sergio sneaks into Fernando’s room with unexpected (angsty) results
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated! Good/bad, either is fine. Thanks!
Reunion
The singing came through the hotel walls, slightly muted. Euphoria well deserved but Fernando didn’t feel like celebrating. It was, after all, only a job half done. It was best to keep his head screwed on straight and make sure that the second leg won’t tear their hopes to bits. Massaging his foot cautiously, he sat on the edge of his bed and let the half drunken songs wash over him.
It had been a great match. He was sorry to leave when he was subbed but he knew it was for the best. A minor injury is easier to nurse back to health than a more serious one and besides a couple of chances, the Real Madrid backline had a good measure of him. Iker for sure, knew all about him and what he could do. He allowed himself a smirk, not just on the pitch either. It was unlucky for the reds that Iker knew so many of them so well. Another keeper may not have been alert enough to palm Xabi’s long range shot away in the nick of time but Iker had inside knowledge.
Oh and he had picked himself up a card. Whilst Sergio hadn’t. He wrinkled his nose in disdain. Ramos would be laughing now. They had a bet going on who would get carded first, or if they would at all. Now he owes Ramos something and he didn’t want to know what Sergio would make him do. Sighing, he fell back into his bed and tried to relax. Outside, the singing continued like a constant, distant drumming. He wanted to be part of it, knew that if he just walked out that door, he would be accepted with open arms and grinning faces and they would all jump around together, bouncing in their joy over their victory. Yet the goal had been scored when he was off the pitch. He wasn’t really part of the winning team. Liverpool was so used to relying on him, he felt a tad slighted now that he wasn’t the one who scored the all-important winner.
Rapid knocking on his door startled him. He was puzzled as to who it could be and when the knocking came again, more urgently, Fernando finally got to his feet and opened the door.
“Sergio!”
Ramos merely replied by slinking guiltily into the darkness of Fernando’s room. “Quick!” he hissed, “Close the door! I don’t want the rest of your team to know I’m here.”
Fernando closed the door obediently. Then turned to face his friend; his hands on his hips.
Sergio broke out into a huge grin. He flipped on the lights and jumped childishly onto Fernando’s bed, bouncing a couple of times on the springy mattress. “So, you got booked.” He gloated.
“Yes, but we won the match,” countered Fernando.
“You’re right, you did. Don’t know how we managed to let that little number 15 of yours get his head on the ball. I tell you, Juandes was not amused.” Ramos murmured, “Well, that just settles it, it’s time for me to take a bit of revenge. On behalf of my team, of course. Since you lost that bet we had and all.”
Fernando refused to look scared but he was actually quite worried as to what Sergio could cook up for him to do. Remembering some of the ridiculous antics Sergio had come up with previously…
“This Danny…” Sergio tapped his chin thoughtfully, “You’re still seeing him?”
Crossing his arms, Fernando stubbornly remained silent.
“Fer?” Sergio stretched out lazily across Fernando’s bed, spreading his limbs out to the corners. He watched as Fernando’s eyes drifted over his body. Rolling into a pose, he teased, “D’ya miss me?”
“Of course, gitano,” Fernando said softly, “Of course, I did.”
“So why don’t you come over here?” Sergio patted the bed invitingly.
Fernando hesitated. It was only a brief moment, but Sergio caught it. He looked away. He knew about Daniel Agger. They had the same conversation last time they met up Spain too. The same arguments ever since Fernando had gone to Liverpool, over another man. How typically pointless of them. Fernando always insisted that it wasn’t anything big, it wasn’t love per se, or anything like what they have together. Each time when Fernando kissed his lips again after months of absence, he believed the striker when he says that there is no one else. He believed him when he says that Daniel was just there to fuck. He believed him when Fernando says he’s sorry to leave and that he’ll miss him. But lately? He didn’t know.
Daniel knew about Sergio too. Fernando had made it clear from the start, as if by coming clean at the beginning he can avoid all the usual awkwardness and guilt of betrayal as such. It had begun innocently enough, with the intention of spending time with the Dane more to do with friendship than anything else. But soon it had taken on a different path and well, shit happens. So once they crossed that line, it just kept going. No doubt Sergio didn’t approve if his incessant squawking during national call ups was anything to go by. But for Fernando, he still felt he was closest to Sergio, like they had a bond that transcended the distance and their infidelities.
“Where is he, anyway?” Sergio asked.
“Who?”
“Don’t play games, Fernando, you know who.”
“I don’t want to talk about him again. That’s all we ever do when we meet now. You know that he’s not going to come between us.”
“But he’s here?” Sergio persisted, “I didn’t see him at the match?”
“He’s not here, Sergio. Now can we stop?” Fernando sounded exasperated.
Sergio weighed up Fernando’s words and then his eyes glittered dangerously, “Fernando José Torres Sanz. I’ve got it. What you owe me for that yellow card you got. Ready?” He grinned cheekily and without waiting for a response, he ploughed on, “I want you, to call Daniel now, and tell him what I’m going to do to you tonight.”
Fernando stared at Sergio blankly, his voice strangely calm, “And what are you going to do to me, Sergio?”
“Well, I haven’t thought about that yet. No, I lie. But I was going to do it while you’re on the phone to Agger. It makes it more interesting, no?”
Torres shifted uncomfortably. He was still standing by the door and he was grateful that the space between him and Sergio on the bed seemed gapingly wide. He gripped the door handle tightly. Outside, he can still hear the loud chorus coming from the rest of his team. His team. Liverpool.
He didn’t need to call to know that Daniel had watched the match. Nor did he even need to think to know that Danny would have been overjoyed that they had won, or that he must be feeling terribly down over the fact that he could not be here. That he could not play. And now Sergio wants him to call Daniel and gloat over his absence by describing… no.
Fernando’s hand turned the handle. He pulled the door open a creak, enough to let the off-tune singing filter through. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, he didn’t have to be coerced into things he didn’t want to do. Things he wasn’t comfortable doing. “I think you should leave, Sergio.”
Ramos sat up on the bed. He propped his elbows on his knees and he covered his face with his hands. Peeking out from between his fingers, he studied Fernando’s face. To his surprise, Fernando was being serious. His heart sank.
“I guess that just says it all,” he got to his feet and walked to the door. Started to leave then stopped, holding the door open even as Fernando tried to close it. “You love him,” he said accusingly.
“No, I don’t-” Fernando protested, “Look, just leave, I can’t do that, I can’t do what you want me to do.”
“What? Be with me? And not cheat?”
“No, I’m not -” Fernando threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Ugh! Why is it always about me cheating? We’re not a fairy tale, textbook couple, Sergio. You have your girls, and I have Olalla.”
“Yeah, and Daniel Agger,” Sergio cut in snidely.
“Look, I don’t care what you think about me and Danny. And don’t act all prim and proper either, you think I don’t know about Iker? Or Cesc? But I’m not going to call Danny and tell him what you wanted to do to me, which I can guess at even without you telling me. I just can’t.”
“And why not? What do you think I wanted you to say?” Sergio challenged, one eyebrow raised defiantly.
“Because, look, Daniel’s not - it’s not my place to say. Suffice that he’s not really up for it at the moment. I don’t want to bring his day down even more with you know, sex.”
When Sergio expression changed to disappointment, Fernando relented. Putting a hand on Sergio’s arm, he pleaded, “Please, Sergio, try to understand. I care about him, as a friend. And I can’t live with myself if I did what you asked of me to him.”
Sergio turned silently on his heels, ignoring Fernando’s touch. But he remained at the door with his back to Fernando, waiting.
“Don’t go like this, Sergio.” Fernando implored. He placed his hands on the younger man’s shoulders and pulled him close into his body. Wrapping his arms around the defender, he kissed the bronzed neck tenderly.
Sergio stiffened as Fernando’s lips contacted his skin. It was exactly what he had come to Fernando’s room for, but somehow, with their latest argument hanging over them, it felt wrong. Coupled with the recent loss, Sergio’s mood suddenly turned sour. He extricated himself from Fernando’s embrace. Face to face with his friend and lover now, Sergio displayed unusual restraint and composure.
“I’ll see you in two weeks.” The twenty two year old smiled. Leaned forward to capture Fernando’s lips once as a parting memory before he walked away, swaying slightly to a tune that only he could hear.
Fernando watched him leave then suddenly called after him, “Same bet for the next leg, Ramos?”
The Liverpool striker grinned when Real Madrid’s right back waved a hand in response.
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: True in the land of imagination only.
Summary: It’s after the first leg of the Real Madrid-Liverpool clash and Sergio sneaks into Fernando’s room with unexpected (angsty) results
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated! Good/bad, either is fine. Thanks!
Reunion
The singing came through the hotel walls, slightly muted. Euphoria well deserved but Fernando didn’t feel like celebrating. It was, after all, only a job half done. It was best to keep his head screwed on straight and make sure that the second leg won’t tear their hopes to bits. Massaging his foot cautiously, he sat on the edge of his bed and let the half drunken songs wash over him.
It had been a great match. He was sorry to leave when he was subbed but he knew it was for the best. A minor injury is easier to nurse back to health than a more serious one and besides a couple of chances, the Real Madrid backline had a good measure of him. Iker for sure, knew all about him and what he could do. He allowed himself a smirk, not just on the pitch either. It was unlucky for the reds that Iker knew so many of them so well. Another keeper may not have been alert enough to palm Xabi’s long range shot away in the nick of time but Iker had inside knowledge.
Oh and he had picked himself up a card. Whilst Sergio hadn’t. He wrinkled his nose in disdain. Ramos would be laughing now. They had a bet going on who would get carded first, or if they would at all. Now he owes Ramos something and he didn’t want to know what Sergio would make him do. Sighing, he fell back into his bed and tried to relax. Outside, the singing continued like a constant, distant drumming. He wanted to be part of it, knew that if he just walked out that door, he would be accepted with open arms and grinning faces and they would all jump around together, bouncing in their joy over their victory. Yet the goal had been scored when he was off the pitch. He wasn’t really part of the winning team. Liverpool was so used to relying on him, he felt a tad slighted now that he wasn’t the one who scored the all-important winner.
Rapid knocking on his door startled him. He was puzzled as to who it could be and when the knocking came again, more urgently, Fernando finally got to his feet and opened the door.
“Sergio!”
Ramos merely replied by slinking guiltily into the darkness of Fernando’s room. “Quick!” he hissed, “Close the door! I don’t want the rest of your team to know I’m here.”
Fernando closed the door obediently. Then turned to face his friend; his hands on his hips.
Sergio broke out into a huge grin. He flipped on the lights and jumped childishly onto Fernando’s bed, bouncing a couple of times on the springy mattress. “So, you got booked.” He gloated.
“Yes, but we won the match,” countered Fernando.
“You’re right, you did. Don’t know how we managed to let that little number 15 of yours get his head on the ball. I tell you, Juandes was not amused.” Ramos murmured, “Well, that just settles it, it’s time for me to take a bit of revenge. On behalf of my team, of course. Since you lost that bet we had and all.”
Fernando refused to look scared but he was actually quite worried as to what Sergio could cook up for him to do. Remembering some of the ridiculous antics Sergio had come up with previously…
“This Danny…” Sergio tapped his chin thoughtfully, “You’re still seeing him?”
Crossing his arms, Fernando stubbornly remained silent.
“Fer?” Sergio stretched out lazily across Fernando’s bed, spreading his limbs out to the corners. He watched as Fernando’s eyes drifted over his body. Rolling into a pose, he teased, “D’ya miss me?”
“Of course, gitano,” Fernando said softly, “Of course, I did.”
“So why don’t you come over here?” Sergio patted the bed invitingly.
Fernando hesitated. It was only a brief moment, but Sergio caught it. He looked away. He knew about Daniel Agger. They had the same conversation last time they met up Spain too. The same arguments ever since Fernando had gone to Liverpool, over another man. How typically pointless of them. Fernando always insisted that it wasn’t anything big, it wasn’t love per se, or anything like what they have together. Each time when Fernando kissed his lips again after months of absence, he believed the striker when he says that there is no one else. He believed him when he says that Daniel was just there to fuck. He believed him when Fernando says he’s sorry to leave and that he’ll miss him. But lately? He didn’t know.
Daniel knew about Sergio too. Fernando had made it clear from the start, as if by coming clean at the beginning he can avoid all the usual awkwardness and guilt of betrayal as such. It had begun innocently enough, with the intention of spending time with the Dane more to do with friendship than anything else. But soon it had taken on a different path and well, shit happens. So once they crossed that line, it just kept going. No doubt Sergio didn’t approve if his incessant squawking during national call ups was anything to go by. But for Fernando, he still felt he was closest to Sergio, like they had a bond that transcended the distance and their infidelities.
“Where is he, anyway?” Sergio asked.
“Who?”
“Don’t play games, Fernando, you know who.”
“I don’t want to talk about him again. That’s all we ever do when we meet now. You know that he’s not going to come between us.”
“But he’s here?” Sergio persisted, “I didn’t see him at the match?”
“He’s not here, Sergio. Now can we stop?” Fernando sounded exasperated.
Sergio weighed up Fernando’s words and then his eyes glittered dangerously, “Fernando José Torres Sanz. I’ve got it. What you owe me for that yellow card you got. Ready?” He grinned cheekily and without waiting for a response, he ploughed on, “I want you, to call Daniel now, and tell him what I’m going to do to you tonight.”
Fernando stared at Sergio blankly, his voice strangely calm, “And what are you going to do to me, Sergio?”
“Well, I haven’t thought about that yet. No, I lie. But I was going to do it while you’re on the phone to Agger. It makes it more interesting, no?”
Torres shifted uncomfortably. He was still standing by the door and he was grateful that the space between him and Sergio on the bed seemed gapingly wide. He gripped the door handle tightly. Outside, he can still hear the loud chorus coming from the rest of his team. His team. Liverpool.
He didn’t need to call to know that Daniel had watched the match. Nor did he even need to think to know that Danny would have been overjoyed that they had won, or that he must be feeling terribly down over the fact that he could not be here. That he could not play. And now Sergio wants him to call Daniel and gloat over his absence by describing… no.
Fernando’s hand turned the handle. He pulled the door open a creak, enough to let the off-tune singing filter through. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, he didn’t have to be coerced into things he didn’t want to do. Things he wasn’t comfortable doing. “I think you should leave, Sergio.”
Ramos sat up on the bed. He propped his elbows on his knees and he covered his face with his hands. Peeking out from between his fingers, he studied Fernando’s face. To his surprise, Fernando was being serious. His heart sank.
“I guess that just says it all,” he got to his feet and walked to the door. Started to leave then stopped, holding the door open even as Fernando tried to close it. “You love him,” he said accusingly.
“No, I don’t-” Fernando protested, “Look, just leave, I can’t do that, I can’t do what you want me to do.”
“What? Be with me? And not cheat?”
“No, I’m not -” Fernando threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Ugh! Why is it always about me cheating? We’re not a fairy tale, textbook couple, Sergio. You have your girls, and I have Olalla.”
“Yeah, and Daniel Agger,” Sergio cut in snidely.
“Look, I don’t care what you think about me and Danny. And don’t act all prim and proper either, you think I don’t know about Iker? Or Cesc? But I’m not going to call Danny and tell him what you wanted to do to me, which I can guess at even without you telling me. I just can’t.”
“And why not? What do you think I wanted you to say?” Sergio challenged, one eyebrow raised defiantly.
“Because, look, Daniel’s not - it’s not my place to say. Suffice that he’s not really up for it at the moment. I don’t want to bring his day down even more with you know, sex.”
When Sergio expression changed to disappointment, Fernando relented. Putting a hand on Sergio’s arm, he pleaded, “Please, Sergio, try to understand. I care about him, as a friend. And I can’t live with myself if I did what you asked of me to him.”
Sergio turned silently on his heels, ignoring Fernando’s touch. But he remained at the door with his back to Fernando, waiting.
“Don’t go like this, Sergio.” Fernando implored. He placed his hands on the younger man’s shoulders and pulled him close into his body. Wrapping his arms around the defender, he kissed the bronzed neck tenderly.
Sergio stiffened as Fernando’s lips contacted his skin. It was exactly what he had come to Fernando’s room for, but somehow, with their latest argument hanging over them, it felt wrong. Coupled with the recent loss, Sergio’s mood suddenly turned sour. He extricated himself from Fernando’s embrace. Face to face with his friend and lover now, Sergio displayed unusual restraint and composure.
“I’ll see you in two weeks.” The twenty two year old smiled. Leaned forward to capture Fernando’s lips once as a parting memory before he walked away, swaying slightly to a tune that only he could hear.
Fernando watched him leave then suddenly called after him, “Same bet for the next leg, Ramos?”
The Liverpool striker grinned when Real Madrid’s right back waved a hand in response.