a birthday present.
title: sway
characters: kaká/andriy shevchenko
word count: 822
rating: pg
author's note: for missski on her nineteenth year of existence. hope it’s a wonderful one, my dear.
it’s september twenty-ninth 2004, which just so happens to be andriy shevchenko’s birthday. he wakes to soft italian sunshine and kristen’s singing in the kitchen; twenty-eight is no big matter, and he’s told everyone that will listen not to make a fuss. he is, after all, still just a boy from dvirkivschyna that got lucky.
there is a feeling in his stomach, as he throws back the sheets and sits up, that everyone will disobey his wishes and get a cake and throw a party, and yet another year will pass with him standing in a corner, miserably staring into his whisky glass as the pile of presents grows ever larger.
a shower and a shave, and he wanders into the kitchen, not surprised to see a full breakfast waiting for him. andriy embraces his wife and kisses her, her swollen belly the recipient of another. 2004 is a big year for him. ballon d’or, a place in pele’s fifa one hundred, marrying his wife and his first child on the way- isn’t that enough? kristen ushers him into a chair and watches him as he eats, grumbling about all the fuss. she laughs as she bids him farewell for training, and his bad mood only worsens when he arrives at the training ground to see the team crowded outside in their gear, huge smiles on their faces. andriy sighs and pulls into his parking spot, getting out to a rousing (and horribly out of tune) rendition of “happy birthday”, but smiles and thanks his team mates. “we’ve organized a party for you with kristen, since you’re a shit and won’t do anything yourself,” gennaro informs andriy as they walk inside, the paparazzi snapping away behind them. “gennaro, i appreciate the offer but-” andriy begins, but gennaro holds up a hand. “your anti-social behaviour isn’t going to ruin our party. so save it,” and that’s that. andriy changes and joins his friends out for laps to warm up, falling behind after a few to clear his head.
it takes a while until he notices the silent figure keeping pace with him, and he starts. “kaká, jesus! you scared me,” he says, laughing at his own silliness. kaká smiles and apologises, wishing him a happy birthday. “thank you, ricky. to be honest, i just want to go out for dinner and then have some cake. no parties, no attention.” andriy sighs, and kaká’s smile grows wider. “tonight, you shall have your wish,” he whispers, and speeds up to break up pippo and alessandro’s argument.
~
training ends and kaká sends him a mysterious wink, before disappearing out the door before andriy can catch him. puzzled, andriy bids goodbye to his team mates and leaves for his house, arriving to find it empty, kristen having gone to buy extra presents for him. he settles down in front of the tv and plays playstation for a while, battling ac against the likes of manchester united, real madrid and his old stomping ground, dynamo kiev. darkness falls outside and kristen still isn’t home; andriy begins to worry. he calls her mobile and she answers, apologizing for not calling, but she’s gone ahead to the restaurant they’ve booked out to organize last minute details. before andriy can reply, the doorbell rings and kristen has to leave.
his confusement only grows as he answers the door to see kaká, a bottle of wine in his hand and a cd in the other. “what is this madness tonight?!” andriy exclaims, as kaká brushes past him and disappears into his living room. “you said you wanted a quiet evening, so we downscaled. the party has become a dinner and kristen has left you alone for the evening. no attention, just how you wanted. although i’m ruining my own plans a little,” kaká babbles as andriy eases into the living room to see him bent over the stereo, placing the cd inside the machine as if it were made of glass, and straightening up to look over his shoulder, his brown eyes sparkling behind his glasses (compliments of armani).
“ricky, what’s going on…” andriy starts, stopping abruptly as sweet violins fill the room. “dance with me, sheva.” kaká says, holding out a hand. andriy stops, frowning. “i don’t dance.” he replies, and the only reply to that is a laugh, musical and melodic, and the hand beckons for him. he shakes his head and kaká walks over, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together, closing the gap and pressing a gentle kiss to surprised lips. “dance with me, andriy,” he whispers against them, pulling the ukrainian closer. they sway and dip together, andriy nervous and bumbling, kaká smooth and fluid, as always. his hips move as they remember times not so long ago, in brasil, dancing with his friends as the samba played. it is then, and only then, that andriy decides that birthdays mightn’t be so bad after all.
~~~FIN.
characters: kaká/andriy shevchenko
word count: 822
rating: pg
author's note: for missski on her nineteenth year of existence. hope it’s a wonderful one, my dear.
it’s september twenty-ninth 2004, which just so happens to be andriy shevchenko’s birthday. he wakes to soft italian sunshine and kristen’s singing in the kitchen; twenty-eight is no big matter, and he’s told everyone that will listen not to make a fuss. he is, after all, still just a boy from dvirkivschyna that got lucky.
there is a feeling in his stomach, as he throws back the sheets and sits up, that everyone will disobey his wishes and get a cake and throw a party, and yet another year will pass with him standing in a corner, miserably staring into his whisky glass as the pile of presents grows ever larger.
a shower and a shave, and he wanders into the kitchen, not surprised to see a full breakfast waiting for him. andriy embraces his wife and kisses her, her swollen belly the recipient of another. 2004 is a big year for him. ballon d’or, a place in pele’s fifa one hundred, marrying his wife and his first child on the way- isn’t that enough? kristen ushers him into a chair and watches him as he eats, grumbling about all the fuss. she laughs as she bids him farewell for training, and his bad mood only worsens when he arrives at the training ground to see the team crowded outside in their gear, huge smiles on their faces. andriy sighs and pulls into his parking spot, getting out to a rousing (and horribly out of tune) rendition of “happy birthday”, but smiles and thanks his team mates. “we’ve organized a party for you with kristen, since you’re a shit and won’t do anything yourself,” gennaro informs andriy as they walk inside, the paparazzi snapping away behind them. “gennaro, i appreciate the offer but-” andriy begins, but gennaro holds up a hand. “your anti-social behaviour isn’t going to ruin our party. so save it,” and that’s that. andriy changes and joins his friends out for laps to warm up, falling behind after a few to clear his head.
it takes a while until he notices the silent figure keeping pace with him, and he starts. “kaká, jesus! you scared me,” he says, laughing at his own silliness. kaká smiles and apologises, wishing him a happy birthday. “thank you, ricky. to be honest, i just want to go out for dinner and then have some cake. no parties, no attention.” andriy sighs, and kaká’s smile grows wider. “tonight, you shall have your wish,” he whispers, and speeds up to break up pippo and alessandro’s argument.
~
training ends and kaká sends him a mysterious wink, before disappearing out the door before andriy can catch him. puzzled, andriy bids goodbye to his team mates and leaves for his house, arriving to find it empty, kristen having gone to buy extra presents for him. he settles down in front of the tv and plays playstation for a while, battling ac against the likes of manchester united, real madrid and his old stomping ground, dynamo kiev. darkness falls outside and kristen still isn’t home; andriy begins to worry. he calls her mobile and she answers, apologizing for not calling, but she’s gone ahead to the restaurant they’ve booked out to organize last minute details. before andriy can reply, the doorbell rings and kristen has to leave.
his confusement only grows as he answers the door to see kaká, a bottle of wine in his hand and a cd in the other. “what is this madness tonight?!” andriy exclaims, as kaká brushes past him and disappears into his living room. “you said you wanted a quiet evening, so we downscaled. the party has become a dinner and kristen has left you alone for the evening. no attention, just how you wanted. although i’m ruining my own plans a little,” kaká babbles as andriy eases into the living room to see him bent over the stereo, placing the cd inside the machine as if it were made of glass, and straightening up to look over his shoulder, his brown eyes sparkling behind his glasses (compliments of armani).
“ricky, what’s going on…” andriy starts, stopping abruptly as sweet violins fill the room. “dance with me, sheva.” kaká says, holding out a hand. andriy stops, frowning. “i don’t dance.” he replies, and the only reply to that is a laugh, musical and melodic, and the hand beckons for him. he shakes his head and kaká walks over, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together, closing the gap and pressing a gentle kiss to surprised lips. “dance with me, andriy,” he whispers against them, pulling the ukrainian closer. they sway and dip together, andriy nervous and bumbling, kaká smooth and fluid, as always. his hips move as they remember times not so long ago, in brasil, dancing with his friends as the samba played. it is then, and only then, that andriy decides that birthdays mightn’t be so bad after all.
~~~FIN.