[Fic - Real Madrid] (Of Everything I've Touched,) It's Your Flesh I Want to go on Touching (Part II)
Title: (Of Everything I've Touched,) It's Your Flesh I Want to go on Touching
Fandom/Pairing: Real Madrid - Mesut Özil/Sergio Ramos
Rating: R
Author: onyxexistance/openmoments
Spoilers: --
Word Count: 6,461
Summary: Sergio is clueless and Mesut is patient
Prompt: There was that spread about what? a month back, with Sergio exiting a hotel with a female after he'd broken up with Lara. And naturally, I needed a Serzil twist to the whole deal.
Author's Notes: ---
“What did you do this time?” and Sergio looks up from the bench in the locker room, where he’s got his shin pads caught between his hands.
Mesut’s standing in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder. “What makes you think I did anything?” he asks with a grin.
“You always do something,” and Sergio chucks one of his shin pads in his direction. Mesut moves to the side easily enough, a grin lighting up his face.
“Almost ready?” he asks as he shifts his bag to the other shoulder.
He nods as he reaches for his towel and runs it over his hair one more time before he grabs his shirt from his locker and slides it over his head. He tugs it into place and pushes up the sleeves as he reaches for his jacket and zips his bag closed.
“Want to pass that?” he asks as he motions to the shin pad laying in the doorway.
“So you can use it as a weapon again?” Mesut asks, even as he bends down to get it.
Sergio just winks and grabs the end of it, tries pulling it from Mesut’s hand and then frowns at him when he doesn’t let go.
They stand there like that for a moment, both their hands clinging on either side of the shin pad and Sergio can’t look away from the way Mesut’s looking at him. He realizes, suddenly, that he’s never wanted to kiss someone and not know whether he should or not.
Mesut finally just smiles and let’s go of the shin pad and Sergio almost drops it to the floor when he does. He stuffs it in the bag and follows Mesut out of the stadium, wondering, for the first time, if he could be happier.
He almost refuses Mesut’s invitation to watch a movie. It’s really close and he hesitates before saying yes, knowing he can say he’s tired and Mesut would be fine with it.
But he doesn’t and he doesn’t really understand why (but maybe he does, a little), so he tells him he’ll be over in ten minutes and asks if he’s got snack food and Mesut’s rolling his eyes but he doesn’t like watching movies without snacks. Mesut says yes because he always has something and Sergio says, “Good,” before he leaves the car and heads to his place to dump his clothes in the laundry.
After he closes the machine lid and the cycle starts, he grabs a couple of beers from the fridge (because Mesut’s going through a ‘I don’t drink alcohol’ phase. Again.) and sticks them in a plastic bag before he turns off all the lights and locks the door.
He sits on the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, cold condensation dripping off the side of the can around the tops of his fingers. He’s translating, or attempting to, what’s going on in the movie because it’s what they do. When they watch a movie, Mesut normally pokes him with his toe every time he needs something explained. They used to spend an extra hour, pausing and restarting until Sergio told him he’d just help him out during the movie, summarize it when the stupid thing was over.
He makes stuff up as he goes along and after awhile Mesut always throws popcorn at him and tells him he knows he’s lying and Sergio just sticks his tongue out at him and reminds him that he doesn’t know for sure.
“Xabi asked me what I thought of Sherlock,” Mesut tells him as he digs around in the popcorn bowl. Sergio raises an eyebrow and makes a noncommittal noise.
“He knew it wasn’t something that I’d normally watch, so he wanted to know what I liked about it,” he continues and Sergio keeps his eyes on the TV in front of him.
“So when he asked me what I thought of it, he found it really interesting when I told him that I really liked the plot twist of John and Moriarty working together,” and Sergio can’t help the laugh that bursts out of his chest, beer spilling onto his shirt as it sloshes over the mouth of the can.
“You’re an asshole,” Mesut tells him as he grabs a pillow and chucks it in his direction.
“It was boring!” Sergio tells him, as he keeps laughing, a hand patting at the damp spot on his shirt.
“You knew I was watching it to be nice!” Mesut tells him with a bit of a pout.
“I know. But my ending made it way better than it was,” Sergio tells him, looking over to the other side of the couch.
“I was so embarrassed,” Mesut tells him, eyes staring into the bottom of the popcorn bowl and Sergio feels a rush of guilt roll over him and he turns himself sideways on the couch.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal, Mesut,” he tells him, “I’m sure you told Xabi it was my fault and he said, “Ahhh,” and that that made sense,” and Mesut looks up sharply as Sergio grins at him.
“Don’t think I don’t know you, Mesut Özil,” he says, “You probably made him feel all sorry for you and then he explained what the show was about, didn’t he?” Mesut says nothing as he puts a piece of popcorn in his mouth.
“And that explains why I got a ball in the back of the head during practice. Xabi hates it when people mess with his ‘culture help’,” he mutters, making quotation marks with his fingers.
“At least he would be nice and actually tell me what was going on.”
“That would be boring. Trust me: you watch a movie with Xabi and you’ll be knocking on my door telling me it was a horrible time,” he states matter of factly as he reaches across the couch and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Mesut’s lap.
“Besides,” he continues, “You know you like that I change things,” he says with a smile and frowns when Mesut just nods.
“Mesut,” he starts and watches as Mesut abruptly stands up, spilling popcorn over the edge of the bowl and onto the couch.
“I’m just really tired,” he says, running a hand through his hair before he slides it down his face and crosses his arms.
“Mesut,” Sergio says again, softer this time, places the beer on a coaster on the side table and stands up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Mesut says and Sergio barely hears him, just stands there, rocks up on his toes.
“Mesut,” he starts again and his name just hangs there for a minute before Mesut turns around and Sergio knows that’s not a real smile.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, over polite and Sergio resists rolling his eyes, “But I guess practice really took it out of me today,” and Sergio just nods and he remembers back to when they were laying on Mesut’s bed and he told him about her and how there was a moment and he didn’t know what to do with it. He’s pretty sure the same thing is happening here but he’s not entirely sure and so he just stands there while Mesut looks at him.
So he does the only thing he can think of and walks towards Mesut who gives him a funny look before they’re standing toe-to-toe and Sergio watches as he raises his eyebrows at him, almost like a challenge.
Sergio likes that. Likes that he’s giving him something. Because Sergio doesn’t know what to do with moments, but he does know what to do with challenges: he knows to meet them. So he does.
He leans in, places a hand against Mesut’s jaw and presses their mouths together, soft, lingering, chaste. He pulls away and sees Mesut’s eyes flutter before his tongue darts out to lick his lips before he asks, voice a little shaky, “What was that?”
Sergio feels a wave of panic start growing, starts thinking he read into everything completely wrong and that he’s now completely fucked up and how do you explain that to someone?
But then he looks at Mesut, sees the way the corner of his mouth has lifted a little bit before his eyes gaze darts up to his, knows that they’re smiling and all of a sudden he knows. He knows how to answer.
He moves in closer, body completely in Mesut’s space now and feels a thrill run down his spine when he doesn’t move away.
“That was me saying good night,” he replies and Mesut frowns at him and his smile slips a little.
“What?” he asks, panic settling back in.
“That was a really crappy good night,” he says and Sergio closes his eyes for a moment because he’s sure he’s lost five years of his life in the last two minutes and when he opens them, Mesut’s grinning up at him, all devilish and tempting and Sergio responds in the only way he knows he should: by leaning in and pressing himself up against Mesut, a hand resting against his hip.
Mesut responds with both his hands sliding around his neck and pushing up against him, his mouth responding slowly, tentatively. Because, Sergio realizes, he’s wanted this for awhile and now he doesn’t know if he’s going to wake up and learn it’s only a dream.
Sergio pulls back with a soft nip at his bottom lip and he realizes his heart is pounding in his chest and his senses are all set to high and that that’s the kiss that’s felt the most right in so long.
“I should go,” he finally says and Mesut nods and tells him he probably should but they keep standing like that until they both start laughing at themselves and Sergio ignores the door to keep kissing Mesut.
(He does, eventually, go home, but only after he and Mesut stopped every three steps to keep kissing, to keep practicing and trying it out and trying to realize, “Yes, this is real.”)
Eight months later...
He’s been waiting for this day since month seven passed by. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been in anything resembling a relationship for longer than seven months. And, maybe it’s a really little thing, but he’s excited about it and has a countdown set up on his phone, Mesut wondering what the hell is so important on his phone that he has to keep checking it.
They took it slow. The slowest Sergio has probably taken anything and on one hand he understands. Mesut sat him down, eyes all serious and asked him questions like, “Have you ever done anything with another guy before?” and “What are you looking for?” and “How long are you in this for?” Questions that Sergio had never thought about before and the awkward joking he’d been doing faded as he looked and Mesut, knee bouncing up and down and knew, really knew, that this meant a lot to Mesut. And when he realized that, when that kicked in, he realized that, if it meant a lot to Mesut, it meant even more to him.
So they moved slowly. And there were some times when Sergio was thankful for that. Like the first time they completely ignored the movie they were watching to make out on the couch and Sergio was on Mesut’s lap and all of a sudden felt an erection against him that wasn’t his own and froze because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do, if he was supposed to do anything at all, if Mesut expected anything from him.
(Mesut had smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his temple and said they’d get there when he was comfortable and that was fine and he understood and Sergio pressed his forehead against his shoulder because hearing that and knowing Mesut could read him that well made it difficult for him to breath properly.)
But there were other times, after they had gotten past the, “What to do with two erections in a make out session,” and Sergio had realized how good it felt to have Mesut’s fingers up his ass, especially when he moved them just right, that he hated how Mesut wanted to take it slowly. Because he just knew that having his cock up there would feel really fucking good too and he begged Mesut to just please but got hushed through it and reminded that, “Going slow is a good thing,” and just frowned because not only was he pretty fucking sure that Mesut’s dick would feel good, but he was also sure that being inside Mesut was something he really wanted.
(He kind of maybe possibly probably thanked Mesut, later, because as much as it was amazing, really amazing, he knew that, as usual in this whole relationship thing, Mesut was right and that maybe waiting was something he should have tried sooner in life.)
But he has this all planned. Because they waited and they made it and he made it and he wants Mesut to be proud of him, to look at him in that dopey way that he gets when he looks at Sergio now. It happens just because, but Sergio has also found that it happens when he lets him pick dinner or which movie they’ll watch. Or when Sergio brings home flowers (he was really nervous the first time he ever did that) or if he brings home food from that German place that Mesut always orders from whenever he’s homesick.
So he orders take out and buys flowers and turns the lights down low and finds candles in the back of a cupboard and stands back and smiles at it and can’t wait to see the look on Mesut’s face when he walks in.
He jumps up when he hears the door open and Mesut takes one look at his wide eyes and huge smile and asks him if he’s on drugs and Sergio’s too happy to do anything more than shake his head before he kisses him with something that’s more than a ‘welcome home’ kiss but less than a ‘bedroom. now.’ kiss and when they break apart Mesut’s wearing a matching look on his face.
“What’s going on?” he asks and Sergio bites his lip for a moment before he replies with, “We made it to eight months,” and he’s worried Mesut doesn’t get it as his brow furrows. It takes a minute and Sergio’s getting increasingly nervous before understanding makes its way across Mesut’s face and he smiles and leans in to kiss him again, long and slow and perfect.
“Are you done looking then?” Mesut asks and maybe it’s a loaded question because who ever really knows? But Sergio does. He knows.
“I’m done looking,” he confirms and the smile Mesut gives him is enough to confirm that he really is.