fic:
title: untitled
pairing: iker casillas/ofc
rated: pg13
summary: that was iker's second kiss
note: studying the past of this iker i'm trying to right, au
Marigold was from Helena, Saint Matthew’s sister school from down town. Everyone who ever met her remarked on her beauty. Teachers notes always contained the words, “lovely girl,” and mothers asked about the ringlets bouncing at her shoulders wondering if they were natural. Marigold was beautiful with hair spun in golden waves with strawberry kisses and eyes that captured the bluest of blues in a sharp, marbled gaze.
He only knew Marigold as a friend of Pepe Reina’s older sister-a year between them but it counted when scoring dates for his friends. Iker was fourteen and hitting his second big growth spurts. His legs stretched and places around his boy thickened from his neck down to his ankles. His willingness to date, however, never grew. His experience with girls was much less than others. He’d never really been around them except for his cousins and they were all six years older. He was a humble heart, a shy boy who excelled in the company of a few.
She was Iker’s first official date. Everyone told him how lucky he was after Pepe introduced them and the girls strode forward to collect their boys. In the bathroom, in the line for dinner, at the ticket booth, Marigold is beautiful, Marigold is sweet, Marigold, Marigold, Marigold has a hell of a mouth, right, Casillas? He saw this porcelain doll of a girl who just giggled at everything Iker said and never let go of his hand even when his palm began to sweat.
Halfway through the movie, after she brushed against his arm with her soft breast, Iker went quiet, awkward, ears burning in slow awareness. She wanted something from him, hinting at it with each slow move. She wanted a hand around her shoulders, a kiss to her cheek, something naughty whispered into her ear that would make her squeal and blush like the girls around them. Iker could see the way Pepe acted and knew it was expected of him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t find it in him to try and be anything other than the boy he was. Even Albiol, who said he couldn’t stand girls their age because their constant whining about being fat, even he was making Tina smile. He knew what she wanted but couldn’t seem to do it.
They went to Charlie’s home afterward. Iker dealt with the easy teasing from his hands as they stood in the guest bedroom and changed. The girls were out before them, somehow, lounging at the chairs in brightly colored bikini cut in every shape imaginable. The more adventurous ones were wading in the shallow end, shrieking and tossing water to one another blindly.
“Gentlemen,” David said softly. “We have arrived.”
“Everybody into the pool!”
Someone shouted it, probably Pepe, but the boys ran and leaped, dived, or dropped like cannonballs into the clear water. He felt comfortable then, splashing and flipping from the diving board. He barely noticed the sleek thighs pressing against his ears as he stalked across the pool like a shark while the girls battled at chicken on his shoulders. It was summer, fun and glorious, and he finally felt like he could do this.
Charlie’s parents set hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill before making Charlie promise to watch four times before they went inside. It was the first silent cue. The sunset became the second. Everyone began to pair off one by one, or two by two, the laughter fading to soft chatter and telling silence in darker corners. Iker’s left alone on the pool’s artful rock wall, feet splashing gently when Marigold finds him again. She’d teased in and out of his vision for most of the night, stopping to talk to him briefly while they ate, before leaving again. Pepe tried to explain it to him, told him to look at how she’s standing, look at how she’s leaning, “the way she just touched you, man? She likes you!” He didn’t understand then. They barely spoke five words to each other at dinner or on the ride back. Now she’s returned, soft and clinging like she had in the very beginning before he gave her his honest smile.
She touched him differently now. Her small hands slide up and down his thighs so she floats up out of the water. Pink and orange dotted material clinging to her chest in almost too small squares and her mouth moved in quiet rambles he’d never quiet understood. It wasn’t school or movies, Marigold talked about her last date, this one time, immaturity. Boys staring at her breast. Iker looks away embarrassed because he can see her nipples, and she has to know.
Finally she asks, “Is it true what they say?”
The hair on the back of his neck rose slowly.
“I heard them say you had a big dick. Is it true? Will you let me see it?” Her wet lips parted in a cunning smile. She cut between his knees, spreading them apart so she can stand there. Her chest pressed against her belly one moment, her mouth closed over his the next. She tasted like chlorine and Sprite and something he would never discover.
There’s a hand crawling under the wet edge of his trunks, small and lovely, Marigold, and it startles him. Iker’s legs snap close as he jerks backward sending her tumbling down into the water. From across the pool came loud laughter. Xavi and Andres held their sides gasping between each snicker about Iker slipping and ruining the moment. They never knew Iker was about to push her off.
He felt stupid and sour at the realization, and relieved as well. The water closed over his head muffling the nose, the story recounted again and again. He kicked over to Marigold taking her hand to draw them both out of the pool. She coughed and sputtered and glared at him refusing to offer a single word even after he apologized and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
“Girls,” Pepe said patting him on the back with a grin. “She’ll be cool if you give her a few days. Apologize again.”
Iker never did though, he never wanted to go out with her at all, and he certainly never wanted her kiss to be his second.
:: 1055
pairing: iker casillas/ofc
rated: pg13
summary: that was iker's second kiss
note: studying the past of this iker i'm trying to right, au
Marigold was from Helena, Saint Matthew’s sister school from down town. Everyone who ever met her remarked on her beauty. Teachers notes always contained the words, “lovely girl,” and mothers asked about the ringlets bouncing at her shoulders wondering if they were natural. Marigold was beautiful with hair spun in golden waves with strawberry kisses and eyes that captured the bluest of blues in a sharp, marbled gaze.
He only knew Marigold as a friend of Pepe Reina’s older sister-a year between them but it counted when scoring dates for his friends. Iker was fourteen and hitting his second big growth spurts. His legs stretched and places around his boy thickened from his neck down to his ankles. His willingness to date, however, never grew. His experience with girls was much less than others. He’d never really been around them except for his cousins and they were all six years older. He was a humble heart, a shy boy who excelled in the company of a few.
She was Iker’s first official date. Everyone told him how lucky he was after Pepe introduced them and the girls strode forward to collect their boys. In the bathroom, in the line for dinner, at the ticket booth, Marigold is beautiful, Marigold is sweet, Marigold, Marigold, Marigold has a hell of a mouth, right, Casillas? He saw this porcelain doll of a girl who just giggled at everything Iker said and never let go of his hand even when his palm began to sweat.
Halfway through the movie, after she brushed against his arm with her soft breast, Iker went quiet, awkward, ears burning in slow awareness. She wanted something from him, hinting at it with each slow move. She wanted a hand around her shoulders, a kiss to her cheek, something naughty whispered into her ear that would make her squeal and blush like the girls around them. Iker could see the way Pepe acted and knew it was expected of him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t find it in him to try and be anything other than the boy he was. Even Albiol, who said he couldn’t stand girls their age because their constant whining about being fat, even he was making Tina smile. He knew what she wanted but couldn’t seem to do it.
They went to Charlie’s home afterward. Iker dealt with the easy teasing from his hands as they stood in the guest bedroom and changed. The girls were out before them, somehow, lounging at the chairs in brightly colored bikini cut in every shape imaginable. The more adventurous ones were wading in the shallow end, shrieking and tossing water to one another blindly.
“Gentlemen,” David said softly. “We have arrived.”
“Everybody into the pool!”
Someone shouted it, probably Pepe, but the boys ran and leaped, dived, or dropped like cannonballs into the clear water. He felt comfortable then, splashing and flipping from the diving board. He barely noticed the sleek thighs pressing against his ears as he stalked across the pool like a shark while the girls battled at chicken on his shoulders. It was summer, fun and glorious, and he finally felt like he could do this.
Charlie’s parents set hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill before making Charlie promise to watch four times before they went inside. It was the first silent cue. The sunset became the second. Everyone began to pair off one by one, or two by two, the laughter fading to soft chatter and telling silence in darker corners. Iker’s left alone on the pool’s artful rock wall, feet splashing gently when Marigold finds him again. She’d teased in and out of his vision for most of the night, stopping to talk to him briefly while they ate, before leaving again. Pepe tried to explain it to him, told him to look at how she’s standing, look at how she’s leaning, “the way she just touched you, man? She likes you!” He didn’t understand then. They barely spoke five words to each other at dinner or on the ride back. Now she’s returned, soft and clinging like she had in the very beginning before he gave her his honest smile.
She touched him differently now. Her small hands slide up and down his thighs so she floats up out of the water. Pink and orange dotted material clinging to her chest in almost too small squares and her mouth moved in quiet rambles he’d never quiet understood. It wasn’t school or movies, Marigold talked about her last date, this one time, immaturity. Boys staring at her breast. Iker looks away embarrassed because he can see her nipples, and she has to know.
Finally she asks, “Is it true what they say?”
The hair on the back of his neck rose slowly.
“I heard them say you had a big dick. Is it true? Will you let me see it?” Her wet lips parted in a cunning smile. She cut between his knees, spreading them apart so she can stand there. Her chest pressed against her belly one moment, her mouth closed over his the next. She tasted like chlorine and Sprite and something he would never discover.
There’s a hand crawling under the wet edge of his trunks, small and lovely, Marigold, and it startles him. Iker’s legs snap close as he jerks backward sending her tumbling down into the water. From across the pool came loud laughter. Xavi and Andres held their sides gasping between each snicker about Iker slipping and ruining the moment. They never knew Iker was about to push her off.
He felt stupid and sour at the realization, and relieved as well. The water closed over his head muffling the nose, the story recounted again and again. He kicked over to Marigold taking her hand to draw them both out of the pool. She coughed and sputtered and glared at him refusing to offer a single word even after he apologized and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
“Girls,” Pepe said patting him on the back with a grin. “She’ll be cool if you give her a few days. Apologize again.”
Iker never did though, he never wanted to go out with her at all, and he certainly never wanted her kiss to be his second.
:: 1055