To the Moon and Back
Title: To the Moon and Back
Pairing: Just Sergio Ramos and my own characters for now.
Rating: Umm.... Rish due to language later on
Summary: Sergio has seemingly won it all but will he be able to keep the girl? (I'm horrible at summaries!)
Disclaimer: This is all from my twisted, odd mind! None, I repeat NONE of this is true what so ever!
Author’s notes: This is my first footballer fic. I don't normally let other people read my fics but I've been lurking around LJ long enough that I feel if others can do it, so can I. Hopefully its not horrible!
I always knew that I would be a footballer. I knew it. Call it arrogance, hell, call it the dream of a child, but I knew. I would be a footballer. I had to be. My parents didn’t make much money and didn’t have very good jobs. I mean, they aren’t bad people they just weren’t very good students in school and were married really young. I guess they missed out on two of Spain’s favorite traditions: education and late marriage.
Like I said, I always knew that I would be a footballer, but never in my mind did I think I would get to this level. I mean, I knew I would be a professional. I am holding the World Cup in my hands. Every time I can, I snatch it out of my teammates, no, my friends’, no, my family’s hands. Yeah, my family. My massive, highly dysfunctional, entirely wonderful family. All 24 of them.
If you had told me even two years ago when we were lifting the EuroCup in our hands that we would be in Southern African partying our asses off in a locker room, I’d have laughed my ass off. No way. The EuroCup was the best it was gonna get. I mean how could that feeling of euphoria be beaten? I found out tonight.
“Sergi! Get over here you Gypsy and get in this photo!”
My ears perked up at my name and I jumped into a photo with four of my ‘brothers’ and THE cup. Then I ran over to hug another guy, and to grab another beer. I had no idea how many I had already drank that night. Two? Three? More? Definitely more. I could feel a buzz, but whether it was still the high of the win or the alcohol, I didn’t know.
“Hey! Gentlemen! Señors!” Señor del Bosque was yelling.
Chaos was still reigning in the changing room and nobody was paying attention to the poor man.
“Hey! ¡Putas! ¡Callate! Listen to mister! He has something to say!” I glanced over and saw el capitan standing on the bench waving his arms. When Iker speaks, our team listens. He is our captain and in a way, even though he’s not the oldest one, he’s almost like an older brother.
The group didn’t immediately go silent, but we did quiet down and turn towards our coach. Well, it took a few more shouts on Iker’s part, but it did happen. What can I say? We were all a little more than buzzed and everybody was doing something else.
“Señors! You need to shower and changed! Get your gear and get to the bus, we have a plane to catch!” Señor del Bosque shouted with a grin on his face. “Make sure you guys are in the proper attire for the trip! You can always change on the plane!”
In rush of activity, everybody seemed to strip naked and dash for the showers. Thank goodness the reporters and photographers had been ushered out a while ago or they would have gotten some lovely views of a lot of naked footballers’s butts running into the showers. I looked behind me as Xabi, our ‘father’, was still slowly undressing by his area laughing at us.
“Come on Dexter! Don’t be the last!” Puyli screamed.
There was more rushing as we all dashed in the showers and then dashed back into the changing room to throw on our clothes. It seemed like everybody was on fastforward, just wanting to get on the bus, into the plane and back to Spain. Home. Just the thought made my face break out into a gigantic grin. My mom, dad and brother and sister couldn’t come down to South Africa so I knew they were waiting impatiently for me to get back. I had already spoken to them on the phone and mama had cried. Which in turn made me cry. Hey, I’m secure as a man, I can cry! I mean, look at Iker, he bawled on live TV! If he can do that, I can cry in the changing room with my mom on the phone. I just hope nobody got pictures of that or my ‘cool’ points will disappear.
.
The bus ride and the plane trip were just blurs. It was one big celebration with my brothers, beer and no sleep. Pepe and I decided that we weren’t going to let the journalists sleep either. Oh no, they decided to hitch a ride on the party plane, they were gonna party!
“Hey! Sergi! Where’s El Capitan?” Pepe called to me across the middle seats.
“I think he went to sit with his girl!”
“Really?! Think they’re asleep?” Pepe had a look on his face that meant only one thing, mischief.
“Nah, they’re probably joining the mile high club!” Xavi commented. Poor kid was sitting in one of the seats Pepe and I were leaning over.
Pepe’s grin grew as he grabbed my ipod dock and took off with Xavi following. The two started singing at the top of their lungs as they walked through business class on their way to the coach section where all the journalists were sitting. Well, journalists and our fearless captain.
I was trying to force myself to stay away and not torture Iker, but the lack of music was bugging me. Music was a constant in my life. The only time I didn’t have it playing was when I was on the field during a match or training. Even then, though there was usually a song running through my mind.
I jumped up and ran to where Pepe and Xavi were singing loudly and badly to Sara and Iker. Poor Iker looked like he wanted to curl up and die under the seat in front of him. He must really love Sara to put up with both the team’s teasing and with the coach seats on the trip back. Sara was just sitting there looking at us like idiots. Eh, tough. You date my captain, you deal with our teammates.
Luckily Sara seemed to be taking it all in stride as she started to move so Xavi could talk to Iker.
“Do you want me to move? I’ll move, give me a second.” Sara said to Xavi as she stood up.
“No, no. We’re just having fun. Wanted to make sure you and Iker weren’t joining the Mile High Club back here.”
I burst out laughing as Iker’s face turned tomato red. He was definitely living up to his Saint nickname! If I hadn’t shared a locker room with him for the past 5 years, I would have sworn Sankt Iker was still a virgin! But thanks to Eva and the necktie incident, the entire team knew Iker got some. And kinky too. I’m betting Iker regrets telling us about that little mishap!
I led Pepe back up the aisles, hoping that Xavi would follow us too. Singing and dancing made up most of the rest of our ten hour flight. And drinking. I don’t really remember much of the bus ride or presentations. I do remember the party with our friends and families. Mostly because my mom wouldn’t let me drink anything more.
The next few days flew by with all the activities and ceremonies that were put on for us. I finally got some sleep after our family party. I couldn’t believe adrenaline had carried me for that long after that playing the finale. My mom said I crashed for almost 18 hours the next day.
Pairing: Just Sergio Ramos and my own characters for now.
Rating: Umm.... Rish due to language later on
Summary: Sergio has seemingly won it all but will he be able to keep the girl? (I'm horrible at summaries!)
Disclaimer: This is all from my twisted, odd mind! None, I repeat NONE of this is true what so ever!
Author’s notes: This is my first footballer fic. I don't normally let other people read my fics but I've been lurking around LJ long enough that I feel if others can do it, so can I. Hopefully its not horrible!
I always knew that I would be a footballer. I knew it. Call it arrogance, hell, call it the dream of a child, but I knew. I would be a footballer. I had to be. My parents didn’t make much money and didn’t have very good jobs. I mean, they aren’t bad people they just weren’t very good students in school and were married really young. I guess they missed out on two of Spain’s favorite traditions: education and late marriage.
Like I said, I always knew that I would be a footballer, but never in my mind did I think I would get to this level. I mean, I knew I would be a professional. I am holding the World Cup in my hands. Every time I can, I snatch it out of my teammates, no, my friends’, no, my family’s hands. Yeah, my family. My massive, highly dysfunctional, entirely wonderful family. All 24 of them.
If you had told me even two years ago when we were lifting the EuroCup in our hands that we would be in Southern African partying our asses off in a locker room, I’d have laughed my ass off. No way. The EuroCup was the best it was gonna get. I mean how could that feeling of euphoria be beaten? I found out tonight.
“Sergi! Get over here you Gypsy and get in this photo!”
My ears perked up at my name and I jumped into a photo with four of my ‘brothers’ and THE cup. Then I ran over to hug another guy, and to grab another beer. I had no idea how many I had already drank that night. Two? Three? More? Definitely more. I could feel a buzz, but whether it was still the high of the win or the alcohol, I didn’t know.
“Hey! Gentlemen! Señors!” Señor del Bosque was yelling.
Chaos was still reigning in the changing room and nobody was paying attention to the poor man.
“Hey! ¡Putas! ¡Callate! Listen to mister! He has something to say!” I glanced over and saw el capitan standing on the bench waving his arms. When Iker speaks, our team listens. He is our captain and in a way, even though he’s not the oldest one, he’s almost like an older brother.
The group didn’t immediately go silent, but we did quiet down and turn towards our coach. Well, it took a few more shouts on Iker’s part, but it did happen. What can I say? We were all a little more than buzzed and everybody was doing something else.
“Señors! You need to shower and changed! Get your gear and get to the bus, we have a plane to catch!” Señor del Bosque shouted with a grin on his face. “Make sure you guys are in the proper attire for the trip! You can always change on the plane!”
In rush of activity, everybody seemed to strip naked and dash for the showers. Thank goodness the reporters and photographers had been ushered out a while ago or they would have gotten some lovely views of a lot of naked footballers’s butts running into the showers. I looked behind me as Xabi, our ‘father’, was still slowly undressing by his area laughing at us.
“Come on Dexter! Don’t be the last!” Puyli screamed.
There was more rushing as we all dashed in the showers and then dashed back into the changing room to throw on our clothes. It seemed like everybody was on fastforward, just wanting to get on the bus, into the plane and back to Spain. Home. Just the thought made my face break out into a gigantic grin. My mom, dad and brother and sister couldn’t come down to South Africa so I knew they were waiting impatiently for me to get back. I had already spoken to them on the phone and mama had cried. Which in turn made me cry. Hey, I’m secure as a man, I can cry! I mean, look at Iker, he bawled on live TV! If he can do that, I can cry in the changing room with my mom on the phone. I just hope nobody got pictures of that or my ‘cool’ points will disappear.
.
The bus ride and the plane trip were just blurs. It was one big celebration with my brothers, beer and no sleep. Pepe and I decided that we weren’t going to let the journalists sleep either. Oh no, they decided to hitch a ride on the party plane, they were gonna party!
“Hey! Sergi! Where’s El Capitan?” Pepe called to me across the middle seats.
“I think he went to sit with his girl!”
“Really?! Think they’re asleep?” Pepe had a look on his face that meant only one thing, mischief.
“Nah, they’re probably joining the mile high club!” Xavi commented. Poor kid was sitting in one of the seats Pepe and I were leaning over.
Pepe’s grin grew as he grabbed my ipod dock and took off with Xavi following. The two started singing at the top of their lungs as they walked through business class on their way to the coach section where all the journalists were sitting. Well, journalists and our fearless captain.
I was trying to force myself to stay away and not torture Iker, but the lack of music was bugging me. Music was a constant in my life. The only time I didn’t have it playing was when I was on the field during a match or training. Even then, though there was usually a song running through my mind.
I jumped up and ran to where Pepe and Xavi were singing loudly and badly to Sara and Iker. Poor Iker looked like he wanted to curl up and die under the seat in front of him. He must really love Sara to put up with both the team’s teasing and with the coach seats on the trip back. Sara was just sitting there looking at us like idiots. Eh, tough. You date my captain, you deal with our teammates.
Luckily Sara seemed to be taking it all in stride as she started to move so Xavi could talk to Iker.
“Do you want me to move? I’ll move, give me a second.” Sara said to Xavi as she stood up.
“No, no. We’re just having fun. Wanted to make sure you and Iker weren’t joining the Mile High Club back here.”
I burst out laughing as Iker’s face turned tomato red. He was definitely living up to his Saint nickname! If I hadn’t shared a locker room with him for the past 5 years, I would have sworn Sankt Iker was still a virgin! But thanks to Eva and the necktie incident, the entire team knew Iker got some. And kinky too. I’m betting Iker regrets telling us about that little mishap!
I led Pepe back up the aisles, hoping that Xavi would follow us too. Singing and dancing made up most of the rest of our ten hour flight. And drinking. I don’t really remember much of the bus ride or presentations. I do remember the party with our friends and families. Mostly because my mom wouldn’t let me drink anything more.
The next few days flew by with all the activities and ceremonies that were put on for us. I finally got some sleep after our family party. I couldn’t believe adrenaline had carried me for that long after that playing the finale. My mom said I crashed for almost 18 hours the next day.