fic: night rituals
title: night rituals
pairing: iker casillas/sergio ramos
rated: pg13
warning: euro's fic!!
note: writing after a mini-hiatus is like falling off a bike. be kind about my training wheels.
The second round of knocking sounded louder than the first rattling the door forcefully. It was far too loud to be ignored. So much for waiting it out.
“Be right there,” Iker called. He finished the paragraph and jammed his finger into the spine to mark his place then climbed out of bed. It was one o’clock in the morning, an undisputed time of peace at the hotel. Whoever stood outside disturbing Iker’s relaxation was about to catch one hell of a tongue lashing.
“Do you know what time it is?” He began yanking the door open only to find Sergio arms crossed and smirking.
“One. What are you still doing up?” He’s dressed in a shirt made of billowy strips of white fabric that covered nothing but his shoulders and waist and a pair of worn shorts. Iker recognized them as sleeping clothing.
“I was reading,” he said waving the book as proof. Maybe he’d been on the same three pages for what felt like hours, but it counted.
“You should be sleeping. Come on.” Sergio pushed through Iker’s defenses.
“Come on where?”
Sergio’s smirk took a delightfully wicked turn but he only said, “to bed.”
He watched Sergio slip out of his Gucci slippers and underneath the sheets without invitation then slide into the warm dent Iker had been working into the mattress.
“That’s my side of the bed.”
Sergio only fluffs up three of the four pillows Iker had been lounging against, settles back and waits. Even after their years together Iker never understood how it always ended up quite like this; Sergio patiently waiting and Iker grumbling every step of the way. It seemed so much easier with everyone else. He could be gruff and commanding or joking without the mantle of responsibility hanging over him like a heavy robe, yet Iker still hesitated with him, pulled and pushed without cause.
Ambling back to the bed, Iker prepared himself for the latest in the never ending drama of la roja. Maybe he could salvage his peaceful middle of the night if he just asked Sergio why he was here.
“Take off your socks,” said Sergio.
He’s paused at the edge of the bed, feet lifted. “You know my feet get cold.”
“You can warm them on me.”
The exact opposite thing happened whenever they did this. Sergio would place his arctic toes somewhere on Iker’s body, thighs, belly, calves, which always shocked him towards wakefulness. But Iker tugged his socks off, folded them together, and tossed them onto the dresser. With only two pillows Iker is better able to settle into the left side of the bed which was his preferred sleeping side.
He made to open his book when Sergio wrapped an arm around his waist, an anchor to haul himself closer. He settles into the pillow besides Iker’s hip sighing the fabric of Iker’s t-shirt into a quick ripple.
“Just one more page.”
“Okay. But soon. You’ve been looking tired.”
Maybe he’s had one or two extra yawns at the end of afternoon practice, but Iker doubted he looked tired. There must be another reason for all this attention.
“So what happened?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know where. I just know someone had to say something to you. I need to get my list in order for tomorrow. Was it Xavi? Pique?” He paused staring at the page without seeing it. “Nando?”
“You’re thinking to hard about this. Put the book down.”
Iker flipped the page and continued to bull his way through the paragraph. The words fell across the page like a row of dominos that he couldn’t catch distracted as he was by the feel of Sergio’s fingertips rubbing beneath his shirt and the way he pouts silently.
Finally Sergio gave in enough to pinch his side to say, “Everyone knows that you don’t sleep well alone, Casillas.”
“Everyone?”
“Okay. Just me.”
He sets the book down on the nightstand and finds Sergio regarding him with a very small smile.
Thinking back on the past match, Iker remembered the extra distance posed by expectations, by a team that still hungered to prove themselves. He remembered how he clasped his own wrist strongly just to keep from reaching out to touch Sergio who sat at twitching at his feet for every move he made. He missed him then, at lunch when he sits at the boisterous tables, press conferences, and yes, nights too. Iker slid his fingers around the freshly shaved nape of Sergio’s hair. It’s lighter, different. He tugs at the lock of hair bending over his forehead. Sergio eyeing him curiously when Iker finished exploring this new look. A question lit his eyes. He doesn’t say if he likes it or not-Sergio doesn’t need his approval. He just wished he had known what was going through his head when he disappeared this morning. He would have pet Sergio for the rest of the match if he had.
And there it was another part of Sergio to miss.
“You must have missed me to do this without too big a fight.”
“Only when you’re not around,” he said simple and true.
He kisses Sergio’s forehead, the slope of his nose to his curved lips and there. Sergio’s thighs parted slowly until the puzzle of their bodies fit together just so. He pushed the kiss a little further licking until Sergio’s soft moan turns deep and wild. This was exactly what he needed.
The air-conditioner kicked on with a hum loud enough to mask the rustle of sheets and the sound of limp shorts falling to the ground. Iker grunts at the chill of Sergio’s feet tangling into his.
“Oh,” Sergio whispered. “Hold. I’m.” He turned his head away and shivered when Iker’s lips trailed down his throat. “Ah. Gonna.” He pushed himself against Iker’s shoulder and sneezed.
“Salud,” he said absently rounding his way along Sergio’s jaw.
“No, wait. Do you have tissue?”
Iker pulled back to find Sergio with one eye closed and the other blinking rapidly. “Why?”
“I think I just sneezed in my own eye.”
Iker laughed. “Impossible.” He shrugged out of his shirt and dabbed around Sergio’s eye gently before sending his own clothing to the floor. “Better.”
“A little.” Sergio pouted at himself clearly thrown at interrupting his own mood. So Iker leaned up to kiss his still close lid. “Oh, Iker! Don’t do that.”
“You’re forgetting all the other times I’ve kissed your face clean then?”
“Dirty old man.” Sergio kissed him again softly only to break away for a tiny yawn. He paused mid-stretch looking beyond Iker’s body. “There’s water on your nightstand.”
Iker shrugged casually. “You get thirsty at night.”
“You knew I was coming?”
No, Iker didn’t know. He never knew when something would stop and he and Sergio would snap together like the ends of rubberbands, taut and bending and always connected. He only hoped.
“Just missed you I guess.” And he kissed Sergio again slow as creeping dawn until they felt warm and content and the gaps they felt open filled with each other. “Come on, Ramos. Let’s go to sleep.”
:: 1193
pairing: iker casillas/sergio ramos
rated: pg13
warning: euro's fic!!
note: writing after a mini-hiatus is like falling off a bike. be kind about my training wheels.
The second round of knocking sounded louder than the first rattling the door forcefully. It was far too loud to be ignored. So much for waiting it out.
“Be right there,” Iker called. He finished the paragraph and jammed his finger into the spine to mark his place then climbed out of bed. It was one o’clock in the morning, an undisputed time of peace at the hotel. Whoever stood outside disturbing Iker’s relaxation was about to catch one hell of a tongue lashing.
“Do you know what time it is?” He began yanking the door open only to find Sergio arms crossed and smirking.
“One. What are you still doing up?” He’s dressed in a shirt made of billowy strips of white fabric that covered nothing but his shoulders and waist and a pair of worn shorts. Iker recognized them as sleeping clothing.
“I was reading,” he said waving the book as proof. Maybe he’d been on the same three pages for what felt like hours, but it counted.
“You should be sleeping. Come on.” Sergio pushed through Iker’s defenses.
“Come on where?”
Sergio’s smirk took a delightfully wicked turn but he only said, “to bed.”
He watched Sergio slip out of his Gucci slippers and underneath the sheets without invitation then slide into the warm dent Iker had been working into the mattress.
“That’s my side of the bed.”
Sergio only fluffs up three of the four pillows Iker had been lounging against, settles back and waits. Even after their years together Iker never understood how it always ended up quite like this; Sergio patiently waiting and Iker grumbling every step of the way. It seemed so much easier with everyone else. He could be gruff and commanding or joking without the mantle of responsibility hanging over him like a heavy robe, yet Iker still hesitated with him, pulled and pushed without cause.
Ambling back to the bed, Iker prepared himself for the latest in the never ending drama of la roja. Maybe he could salvage his peaceful middle of the night if he just asked Sergio why he was here.
“Take off your socks,” said Sergio.
He’s paused at the edge of the bed, feet lifted. “You know my feet get cold.”
“You can warm them on me.”
The exact opposite thing happened whenever they did this. Sergio would place his arctic toes somewhere on Iker’s body, thighs, belly, calves, which always shocked him towards wakefulness. But Iker tugged his socks off, folded them together, and tossed them onto the dresser. With only two pillows Iker is better able to settle into the left side of the bed which was his preferred sleeping side.
He made to open his book when Sergio wrapped an arm around his waist, an anchor to haul himself closer. He settles into the pillow besides Iker’s hip sighing the fabric of Iker’s t-shirt into a quick ripple.
“Just one more page.”
“Okay. But soon. You’ve been looking tired.”
Maybe he’s had one or two extra yawns at the end of afternoon practice, but Iker doubted he looked tired. There must be another reason for all this attention.
“So what happened?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know where. I just know someone had to say something to you. I need to get my list in order for tomorrow. Was it Xavi? Pique?” He paused staring at the page without seeing it. “Nando?”
“You’re thinking to hard about this. Put the book down.”
Iker flipped the page and continued to bull his way through the paragraph. The words fell across the page like a row of dominos that he couldn’t catch distracted as he was by the feel of Sergio’s fingertips rubbing beneath his shirt and the way he pouts silently.
Finally Sergio gave in enough to pinch his side to say, “Everyone knows that you don’t sleep well alone, Casillas.”
“Everyone?”
“Okay. Just me.”
He sets the book down on the nightstand and finds Sergio regarding him with a very small smile.
Thinking back on the past match, Iker remembered the extra distance posed by expectations, by a team that still hungered to prove themselves. He remembered how he clasped his own wrist strongly just to keep from reaching out to touch Sergio who sat at twitching at his feet for every move he made. He missed him then, at lunch when he sits at the boisterous tables, press conferences, and yes, nights too. Iker slid his fingers around the freshly shaved nape of Sergio’s hair. It’s lighter, different. He tugs at the lock of hair bending over his forehead. Sergio eyeing him curiously when Iker finished exploring this new look. A question lit his eyes. He doesn’t say if he likes it or not-Sergio doesn’t need his approval. He just wished he had known what was going through his head when he disappeared this morning. He would have pet Sergio for the rest of the match if he had.
And there it was another part of Sergio to miss.
“You must have missed me to do this without too big a fight.”
“Only when you’re not around,” he said simple and true.
He kisses Sergio’s forehead, the slope of his nose to his curved lips and there. Sergio’s thighs parted slowly until the puzzle of their bodies fit together just so. He pushed the kiss a little further licking until Sergio’s soft moan turns deep and wild. This was exactly what he needed.
The air-conditioner kicked on with a hum loud enough to mask the rustle of sheets and the sound of limp shorts falling to the ground. Iker grunts at the chill of Sergio’s feet tangling into his.
“Oh,” Sergio whispered. “Hold. I’m.” He turned his head away and shivered when Iker’s lips trailed down his throat. “Ah. Gonna.” He pushed himself against Iker’s shoulder and sneezed.
“Salud,” he said absently rounding his way along Sergio’s jaw.
“No, wait. Do you have tissue?”
Iker pulled back to find Sergio with one eye closed and the other blinking rapidly. “Why?”
“I think I just sneezed in my own eye.”
Iker laughed. “Impossible.” He shrugged out of his shirt and dabbed around Sergio’s eye gently before sending his own clothing to the floor. “Better.”
“A little.” Sergio pouted at himself clearly thrown at interrupting his own mood. So Iker leaned up to kiss his still close lid. “Oh, Iker! Don’t do that.”
“You’re forgetting all the other times I’ve kissed your face clean then?”
“Dirty old man.” Sergio kissed him again softly only to break away for a tiny yawn. He paused mid-stretch looking beyond Iker’s body. “There’s water on your nightstand.”
Iker shrugged casually. “You get thirsty at night.”
“You knew I was coming?”
No, Iker didn’t know. He never knew when something would stop and he and Sergio would snap together like the ends of rubberbands, taut and bending and always connected. He only hoped.
“Just missed you I guess.” And he kissed Sergio again slow as creeping dawn until they felt warm and content and the gaps they felt open filled with each other. “Come on, Ramos. Let’s go to sleep.”
:: 1193