fic: the king's champions
title: the king's champions
rated: v for victory!
pairing: iker casillas/sergio ramos
summary: iker and sergio have a private moment after the celebrations
note: thank you adorerdollylux for everything ever, but especially sergio
“What did she say to you?”
Sergio has been out of reach since they left the pitch but now he’s returned to Iker’s side. They are neatly attached in all the subtle places, knee and elbow and wrist, although there is no reason to stay hidden. They are immortal for the night, limited only by the imagination of lesser men, the future as vast as the night sky and twice as bright. Iker lifts his arm and settles it around Sergio’s waist, hugs him close and tight, right where he’s needed most; at Iker’s side.
He settles into Iker with a pleased sound but doesn’t forget his question. “Did she say anything at all?”
It almost feels like a lifetime ago when Real Madrid last stood at her feet in celebration, but Iker remembers the moment well. Raul had always said he could hear Cibeles. He’d told Sergio her voice was there, an unassuming peal just below the crowd. She would speak to him. Of course Sergio would remember. Of course Sergio would believe.
Iker smiles, thinking back to the clear ring of joy in the air as he tied the flag around her cold neck. “She did.”
“Tell me.” Sergio’s voice is soft and coaxing, his hand spreading across Iker’s belly as if they are alone.
“I was only there for a moment but like captain said, if you listen, you will hear. She said, ‘I’ve waited too long for Real Madrid to return to me.’ That’s it but she sounded so pleased to see us.” He feels the cool stone of her lips and pauses. “I promised her that she won’t have to wait as long next time.”
“You’re a man of your word, Casillas. We’ll be back soon.” Sergio tilts their heads together. He still smells like sweat, like one-hundred and twenty minutes of dogged persistence and the sweet victory. “Did she say anything else? Anything to me.”
Iker takes Sergio’s hand into his own and squeezes. His voice is very serious when he says, “She said that your hands are beautiful, Sergio, but tonight you proved why I’m the keeper.”
“That’s not even funny!” Sergio struggles as Iker brings his hand to his lips.
“I’m not laughing.” But his eyes are, dark and glittering with happiness as simple and quiet as the kiss he lays to Sergio’s wrist.
"It was slippery. Marcelo sweated all over it." Sergio defends himself weakly, his head tipping to one side to watch Iker's mouth, to feel it against his pulse. His fingers curl up on Iker's cheek, stroking with the backs of them softly.
Iker grins at him finally, nipping at one of the warm veins near his mouth before he lowers Sergio's arm and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together.
"This is our night, babe. Ours."
Sergio sighs, so content that he can't even keep his eyes open. Sweat spills from his head and trickles down the side of Iker's face but neither of them care. Neither care about anything but the feeling coursing through their bodies, through the whole bus. They are champions once again, alive, Iker roaring it from atop the stands. They are happy together. This is their time.
"Yes. It's ours."
:: 536
rated: v for victory!
pairing: iker casillas/sergio ramos
summary: iker and sergio have a private moment after the celebrations
note: thank you adorerdollylux for everything ever, but especially sergio
“What did she say to you?”
Sergio has been out of reach since they left the pitch but now he’s returned to Iker’s side. They are neatly attached in all the subtle places, knee and elbow and wrist, although there is no reason to stay hidden. They are immortal for the night, limited only by the imagination of lesser men, the future as vast as the night sky and twice as bright. Iker lifts his arm and settles it around Sergio’s waist, hugs him close and tight, right where he’s needed most; at Iker’s side.
He settles into Iker with a pleased sound but doesn’t forget his question. “Did she say anything at all?”
It almost feels like a lifetime ago when Real Madrid last stood at her feet in celebration, but Iker remembers the moment well. Raul had always said he could hear Cibeles. He’d told Sergio her voice was there, an unassuming peal just below the crowd. She would speak to him. Of course Sergio would remember. Of course Sergio would believe.
Iker smiles, thinking back to the clear ring of joy in the air as he tied the flag around her cold neck. “She did.”
“Tell me.” Sergio’s voice is soft and coaxing, his hand spreading across Iker’s belly as if they are alone.
“I was only there for a moment but like captain said, if you listen, you will hear. She said, ‘I’ve waited too long for Real Madrid to return to me.’ That’s it but she sounded so pleased to see us.” He feels the cool stone of her lips and pauses. “I promised her that she won’t have to wait as long next time.”
“You’re a man of your word, Casillas. We’ll be back soon.” Sergio tilts their heads together. He still smells like sweat, like one-hundred and twenty minutes of dogged persistence and the sweet victory. “Did she say anything else? Anything to me.”
Iker takes Sergio’s hand into his own and squeezes. His voice is very serious when he says, “She said that your hands are beautiful, Sergio, but tonight you proved why I’m the keeper.”
“That’s not even funny!” Sergio struggles as Iker brings his hand to his lips.
“I’m not laughing.” But his eyes are, dark and glittering with happiness as simple and quiet as the kiss he lays to Sergio’s wrist.
"It was slippery. Marcelo sweated all over it." Sergio defends himself weakly, his head tipping to one side to watch Iker's mouth, to feel it against his pulse. His fingers curl up on Iker's cheek, stroking with the backs of them softly.
Iker grins at him finally, nipping at one of the warm veins near his mouth before he lowers Sergio's arm and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together.
"This is our night, babe. Ours."
Sergio sighs, so content that he can't even keep his eyes open. Sweat spills from his head and trickles down the side of Iker's face but neither of them care. Neither care about anything but the feeling coursing through their bodies, through the whole bus. They are champions once again, alive, Iker roaring it from atop the stands. They are happy together. This is their time.
"Yes. It's ours."
:: 536