untitled sernando fic
Title: untitled
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own. They’d be running around naked if I did.
Characters: Fernando Torres, Sergio Ramos
A sound quite like thunder rumbling in the distance awakened Fernando. His first thought is that the weatherman surely hadn’t called for rain until next week. As he opened his eyes, he secondly thought that the room, while not his own, seemed vaguely familiar.
It was dark as he wrapped sheets around his naked body and tried to locate the cause of the noise that had just awakened him. As he felt along the wall for the door, Fernando’s sleep-filled mind slowly began to remember.
Sergio. This was Sergio’s house back in Madrid that he had flown to after a grueling first week of training with his club. And these were Sergio’s soft (and probably very expensive) Egyptian-cotton sheets wrapped around his waist.
Fernando sucked in a deep breath as he entered the hall and made his way downstairs. There was a faint glow at the bottom and he used that as his guiding light.
Sergio-it always came back to him. No matter that both has sworn their relationship was over after the Euros. No matter that Fernando had a girlfriend back home in Liverpool that he knew he loved very much. A pang of guilt flooded his chest as he thought of the many times he’d lied to Olalla just to spend one hidden moment with the Sevillian.
Fernando turned the corner and entered Sergio’s kitchen. The rumbling was much louder now and his mind finally cleared as he entered the adjoining laundry room and noticed Sergio leaning against the dryer.
"Sergio?"
The dark-haired man looked up, eyes surprised.
"You’re doing laundry?"
"Yes."
Fernando squinted at the clock on the opposite wall and ran a hand through his hair.
"At two in the morning? Why?"
Sergio shrugged.
"The clothes were dirty."
"It could have waited for morning." Fernando yawned before padding over to join him, one hand holding the sheets tight around his waist. "Come back to bed?"
Sergio shook his head, avoiding Fernando’s eyes.
"Can’t sleep."
Fernando felt another stab of guilt-this one right through his heart-as he took in the dark circles around Sergio’s eyes. It was like this every time. After every grope, every quick fuck, Sergio would avoid him like the plague. And Fernando-he would go on acting like nothing was the matter. It was a game they played each time they were together. Fernando’s relationship with Olalla was never brought up and they never talked about what was going on in each other’s heads. But each time he knew that Sergio was feeling horrible-guilty that he’d slept with his best friend, guilty that he’d broken Olalla’s trust. He knew because he was feeling the same way.
He ran another hand through his hair and sighed.
"You need sleep," he finally spoke, "You’ve got training tomorrow."
"I suppose so."
But Sergio made no move. His arms crossed over his bare chest and his eyes looked around the room, landing everywhere but on the man standing next to him.
Fernando licked his lips, suddenly aware of how dry they were. Cautiously, he shifted so their arms were touching. When Sergio made no move to back away, Fernando placed a hand on his arm.
Sergio flinched at the touch.
"Gitano?"
Sergio took in a deep breath but still he didn’t move away.
"We’ve only got a couple hours left of sleep," Fernando told him.
And only a couple hours until I have to go back to Liverpool and her, he added silently in his head.
Fernando ran a hand up Sergio’s arm, massaging the smooth golden skin.
"Bed please?" he repeated.
Sergio sighed.
"In a moment."
"I’m sorry."
For what, Fernando wasn’t sure. Maybe for making him feel horrible or maybe for suggesting they go back to sleep. Maybe for pretending that nothing was the matter. He kept his hand on Sergio’s arm and gazed ahead, his eyes not focused on anything in particular. The guilt was still stabbing him in the chest and he took a deep breath, trying to still it.
"It’s not like back in June," Sergio said quietly.
Fernando turned his head to stare at him.
"We can’t pretend it’s all okay," Sergio continued. He kept staring straight ahead, arms still crossed over his chest. "Because it’s not. It will never be like it was then. We don’t have every day together and it’s not the same."
Fernando exhaled loudly. It was always back to this.
"We have until morning though," he replied, voice soft.
"It’s not enough."
"I know." Fernando turned his body so that he could wrap his arms around Sergio. He took a deep breath and placed his chin on his shoulder. "But it’s all we have."
Sergio finally turned his eyes to Fernando. He nodded slowly. Fernando could see his own hurt and guilt mirrored in those dark brown eyes. He looked away, unable to face them.
"To bed?"
"Yes," Sergio sighed, "to bed."
Fernando smiled softly as he allowed himself to be led back upstairs to Sergio’s bedroom. He pushed all thoughts of England and Olalla to the back of his mind as Sergio climbed into bed next to him and laid his head on his chest. He ran a hand through the dark hair splayed across his chest and closed his eyes. Until morning, all that mattered was Sergio.
As he drifted back to sleep, the house was quiet except for the gentle hum of the clothes dryer.