Last Call (standalone)
Title: Last Call (standalone)
Author:
eternitybreaks@
orton_fics
Fandom: Football RPS
Pairing: David Beckham and Iker Casillas
Summary: They're always casualties in this world.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Nothing said/written is true.
A/n: As usual
rebelstrike21 uses her magic beta powers and makes this story better. With all those pesky things called punctuation and grammar.
THE LAST CALL
David/Iker
“How was the flight?”
“It was alright.”
“You going to pick me up?” Iker asked.
“No,” replied David, “Just meet me where I said. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
-----
Iker always figured that the motel rooms in America weren’t as sleazy as they made them out to be in the movies. Sadly he was wrong. But the good thing about the country was that hardly anyone knew who he was. He unlocked the door with the key the man at the reception desk had given him. He had made his way up the stairs, the hallways dingy as the rest of the place. His room came into view, and he stuck the key in unlocking the lock. He turned the knob but the door didn't budge, so Iker shouldered the weak wood and almost fell in as the door opened with a loud crack.
Iker figured he wasn’t spoilt on his riches as yet. Not like some. But even he had to admit standing in Motel Flamingo room 40b with its wallpaper half down, the carpet that looked like it had never been hovered, and a bed that look painful to sleep in. Yes Iker was sure he could shiver in horror without coming off as a rich dick.
He let his shoulder bag slide down his arm, but didn’t let go of it. He figured he wasn’t going to put his Luis Vuitton - Commanche down, not if his life depended on it. Or at least not until) he found a suitable and clean space to put his expensive luggage down. Okay so he was a little conceited.
The room was small, a square with a small single bed and a TV facing it. Iker moved towards the window and groaned as he saw a sleazy tattoo parlour as his view. The curtains reeked of something bad, so Iker moved away trying not to throw up. He figured he’d sit on the small wicker chair beside the TV, until David came back.
Yeah he’d just wait.
-------
An hour became two and still Iker sat looking at his new “room” for the next three days. David had told him there was no way he could stay at the Hilton, they wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. David’s arrival in the United States might as well have been the resurrection of Jesus. So here he was sitting in a room that smelt faintly of cat piss as he waited on his wayward “lover”.
Three quick chaps on the door, and a hushed voice calling his name had Iker up faster than a burning bush. Unlocking the door, and pulling it open with all his strength, he held it open as David walked into the room shouldering him hard. Closing and locking the door, Iker had to resist the urge to jump on David, who was apparently the only thing another than himself who was clean.
“What took you so long?” Asked Iker, his relief fading into anger. David ignored him and walked towards the window peering out. It didn’t matter, the window only showed the parlour and not the main road or outside of the motel. It was pretty much a brick wall as the view.
“I asked you a…”
“And I heard you,” snapped David. He untied the curtains and pulled them closed. Iker winced as David’s finger delved into the thick dust that coated the pinkish fabric. Once closed David wiped his hands on his jeans before looking back up at Iker.
“It took me an hour and a half to get here.”
Iker took comfort in that. They both stood staring at each other, Iker feeling slightly giddy now. But David’s face looked like an angry storm; emotions flitted across like a slide show.
“Maybe you should go home,” David finally said. His voice cold and eyes now downcast.
“Why?”
“Because…”
“Not good enough.”
Frowning at the carpet David closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath, “I’m too tired Iker.”
Iker felt his world dwindling down to the disgusting little motel room and David. He was too tired. David was too tired now. It wasn’t you Iker, it was him. The kiss of death.
But ever the glutton for punishment Iker pushed forward, “Of what?”
“I can’t be what they want me to, and be what you want me to be at the same time. It’s too hard.”
The sudden ring of cliché sprang into Iker’s mind, “I only asked you to be you,” Iker even winced at his own words.
“No you didn’t mate, no you didn’t.”
“My fault then?”
“Of course not, but in Spain it was easier, now it’s not.”
“Did you call me here to just end it with me?”
“Better that doing it on the phone, no?”
“Cruel,” Iker whispered.
“No…it’s honest.”
“Honesty,” laughed Iker, “What’s honest? Your life with your family and the media, or us when the doors are closed and you’re screaming my name.”
David shrugged, “Maybe both. Maybe not. But I don’t choose you.”
“It’s not fair.”
David sighed, giving one last look to Iker before moving past him towards the door, “This is a battle we can’t win and all battles have casualties Iker. I just made you the casualty.”
Iker’s face flushed in both shame and anger but as he turned around, David had closed the door. Shutting out Iker’s final words and his last hope.
Author:
eternitybreaks@
orton_fics
Fandom: Football RPS
Pairing: David Beckham and Iker Casillas
Summary: They're always casualties in this world.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Nothing said/written is true.
A/n: As usual
rebelstrike21 uses her magic beta powers and makes this story better. With all those pesky things called punctuation and grammar.
THE LAST CALL
David/Iker
“How was the flight?”
“It was alright.”
“You going to pick me up?” Iker asked.
“No,” replied David, “Just meet me where I said. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
-----
Iker always figured that the motel rooms in America weren’t as sleazy as they made them out to be in the movies. Sadly he was wrong. But the good thing about the country was that hardly anyone knew who he was. He unlocked the door with the key the man at the reception desk had given him. He had made his way up the stairs, the hallways dingy as the rest of the place. His room came into view, and he stuck the key in unlocking the lock. He turned the knob but the door didn't budge, so Iker shouldered the weak wood and almost fell in as the door opened with a loud crack.
Iker figured he wasn’t spoilt on his riches as yet. Not like some. But even he had to admit standing in Motel Flamingo room 40b with its wallpaper half down, the carpet that looked like it had never been hovered, and a bed that look painful to sleep in. Yes Iker was sure he could shiver in horror without coming off as a rich dick.
He let his shoulder bag slide down his arm, but didn’t let go of it. He figured he wasn’t going to put his Luis Vuitton - Commanche down, not if his life depended on it. Or at least not until) he found a suitable and clean space to put his expensive luggage down. Okay so he was a little conceited.
The room was small, a square with a small single bed and a TV facing it. Iker moved towards the window and groaned as he saw a sleazy tattoo parlour as his view. The curtains reeked of something bad, so Iker moved away trying not to throw up. He figured he’d sit on the small wicker chair beside the TV, until David came back.
Yeah he’d just wait.
-------
An hour became two and still Iker sat looking at his new “room” for the next three days. David had told him there was no way he could stay at the Hilton, they wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. David’s arrival in the United States might as well have been the resurrection of Jesus. So here he was sitting in a room that smelt faintly of cat piss as he waited on his wayward “lover”.
Three quick chaps on the door, and a hushed voice calling his name had Iker up faster than a burning bush. Unlocking the door, and pulling it open with all his strength, he held it open as David walked into the room shouldering him hard. Closing and locking the door, Iker had to resist the urge to jump on David, who was apparently the only thing another than himself who was clean.
“What took you so long?” Asked Iker, his relief fading into anger. David ignored him and walked towards the window peering out. It didn’t matter, the window only showed the parlour and not the main road or outside of the motel. It was pretty much a brick wall as the view.
“I asked you a…”
“And I heard you,” snapped David. He untied the curtains and pulled them closed. Iker winced as David’s finger delved into the thick dust that coated the pinkish fabric. Once closed David wiped his hands on his jeans before looking back up at Iker.
“It took me an hour and a half to get here.”
Iker took comfort in that. They both stood staring at each other, Iker feeling slightly giddy now. But David’s face looked like an angry storm; emotions flitted across like a slide show.
“Maybe you should go home,” David finally said. His voice cold and eyes now downcast.
“Why?”
“Because…”
“Not good enough.”
Frowning at the carpet David closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath, “I’m too tired Iker.”
Iker felt his world dwindling down to the disgusting little motel room and David. He was too tired. David was too tired now. It wasn’t you Iker, it was him. The kiss of death.
But ever the glutton for punishment Iker pushed forward, “Of what?”
“I can’t be what they want me to, and be what you want me to be at the same time. It’s too hard.”
The sudden ring of cliché sprang into Iker’s mind, “I only asked you to be you,” Iker even winced at his own words.
“No you didn’t mate, no you didn’t.”
“My fault then?”
“Of course not, but in Spain it was easier, now it’s not.”
“Did you call me here to just end it with me?”
“Better that doing it on the phone, no?”
“Cruel,” Iker whispered.
“No…it’s honest.”
“Honesty,” laughed Iker, “What’s honest? Your life with your family and the media, or us when the doors are closed and you’re screaming my name.”
David shrugged, “Maybe both. Maybe not. But I don’t choose you.”
“It’s not fair.”
David sighed, giving one last look to Iker before moving past him towards the door, “This is a battle we can’t win and all battles have casualties Iker. I just made you the casualty.”
Iker’s face flushed in both shame and anger but as he turned around, David had closed the door. Shutting out Iker’s final words and his last hope.