Come back to bed [aka The Christmas fic]
Title: Come Back To Bed [aka The Christmas fic]
Author: Salmiaggi
Rating: G-R
Paring: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Cesc Fàbregas, Cesc Fábregas/Nicklas Bendtner, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Genre: fluff, angst, sappy romance and everything Christmassy
Summary: The Liverpool and Arsenal players have different ways of celebrating Christmas.
Wordcount: 1083 + 437 + 463 + 926
Disclaimer: If this was really happening, I wouldn’t have to write about it, would I?
Author’s Notes: I was supposed to write this long, long Christmas fic that was set in every fan girl’s fantasy world, where everyone’s gay in our fandom, but it didn’t happen. Well, it did, but it happened quite horribly. And although it might seem like I can only write S/X, I am able to write other parings too and that’s what I’m trying to prove with this. Oh, and the title’s from John Mayer’s song Come Back To Bed. This is for all people that has been reading my fics and leaving me great and encouraging comments. I really appreciate that. But this is especially for paulii_oh_yesh , who asked [well, more like ordered me to write] Cesc/Danny. MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!
Feedback: Sí, por favor! I love it! C: And definitely need it!
Come [Steven/Xabi, R]
Xabi didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t have any reason to get up on that bright Christmas Day’s morning. He didn’t have that familiar body pressed against his, nor were there tiny, loving kisses on his lips, neck, eyelids, and brows to wake him up. No reason at all to open his eyes.
But eventually he did open them. Although, he decided, there was no reason to get up, there were even less reasons not to do so.
Stepping into the empty living room and seeing the gifts under the Christmas tree he’d decorated with Steven’s girls the previous day made him feel even lonelier. He quickly turned his gaze away from the tree; he didn’t want to think about Steven the whole day. Surely he could have nice Christmas by himself.
He had no intention of feeling lonely and bitter on Christmas Day, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed. Just thinking about the last few days made him feel bad.
“Fuck, Xabi, what’s going on? Why are you pushing this now?” If Steven hadn’t been annoyed before, he was now. His face had reddened and Xabi knew he shouldn’t force the matter, but he did it anyway. Winding Steven up was the best way for him to deal with all the frustration and irritation he was feeling himself.
“I can’t believe you still haven’t done it. You promised me you’d do it hundred times over. Every week I hear the same thing. ‘Tonight I’m going to do it, Xabi, I promise you. I’m going to leave her.’ But have you kept your promise, Steven?” Xabi felt tears prickling his eyes, but he wouldn’t cry.
“No, I haven’t. But do you realise how hard this is for me? Leaving my girls and the woman I’m married to?”
“I know it is hard, I have never claimed otherwise. But can’t you see how much this is hurting me? You say you love me and that nothing could make you happier than the chance of just being with me, but still you go back to her, without keeping your promise.”
Just thinking about all the fight’s they had gone through over the same matter got him boiling. But no matter how angry he was to Stevie, no matter how disappointed or betrayed he felt, he’d do anything to just have his captain there with him so he wouldn’t have to spent the Christmas all by himself. But Steven was at his home, having the time of his life with his wife and his children, just as he was supposed to be. Surely he couldn’t take away the girls’ father at Christmas.
His doorbell rang late that night. Xabi looked down at the pathetic little sandwich he was munching on and decided that whoever was behind that door, he wouldn’t be worth getting up from the sofa. He continued watching his DVD (the only thing he thought could cheer him up; the Champions League final from Istanbul), but the doorbell wouldn’t stop interrupting him.
“Fuck off!” He yelled from where he was sitting, on the couch in front of the telly, but the doorbell kept insisting. And the next thing he knew there was a voice, very familiar one, yelling back at him.
“Come on, Xabi, let me in.” He could hear the desperation in that demanding voice.
“Open the door, I’m freezing my fucking balls off!” The captain then demanded and Xabi got up from the sofa.
“What are you doing here?” He asked once he’d opened the door and the Scouser had made his way in pass the reluctant Spaniard. Stevie took his time before answering, taking off his coat and the expensive looking shoes. Finally he turned to face the other midfielder, who’d been standing and staring quietly, back still against the door.
“I did it. I left her.” Steven said quietly and watched as Xabi’s expression changed from indifferent to a shocked one.
“What?” Xabi asked, for he could not believe the words that had came out of his captain’s mouth.
“I left Alex, Xabi. I told her the truth and I left her.” Stevie said and a shy smile appeared on his face. It faded soon as Xabi’s next words dawned on him.
“You can’t leave her at Christmas. Think about the girls, Steven, Christmas is all about children.”
“I did think about the girls. They’re at Alex’s mum like we planned. And I thought you’d be happy. I’m here to stay, Xabi.” He could see the Spaniard’s doubts and fears shattering into pieces and although Xabi felt bad, especially for the girls, but, at least in some stage, for Alex too, he was only human. This was what he’d been waiting for so long. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes again, but this time he wasn’t so sure he could keep himself from crying for long.
“Come here, you. I want to hold you.” Xabi didn’t hesitate to walk over and into Steven’s warm embrace. For a long time they just stood there, holding each other close, all the while murmuring soft and loving insurances to one another. When Stevie lifted his head to look at the Spaniard, he noticed the wet trails on his lover’s cheeks.
“You’re crying.” He remarked softly and smiled. A silent shook of head was all he got out of his Spanish lover.
“Yes, you are, you soft lad.” Steven raised his right hand to get the other man raise his gaze from his red, fluffy reindeer socks and pulled him into a searing kiss.
Soon they were stumbling towards the master bedroom, tongues battling over control, clothes vanishing along the way. Xabi’s hands roamed on the Scouser’s bare back, lips on his pale neck and his hips searched for much needed attention to the groin by pushing against Stevie’s. They stroked, shoved and groaned their way into a shivering climax, sweat bodies entangled, satisfied minds swelling by the utter feeling of love and need they both felt for each other.
On that Boxing Day morning Xabi felt soft lips caressing his face with loving kisses again. The stubbled chin first, then his dimples, the soft spot on the side of his nose, a lingering one on the left eyelid, one with tongue and teeth on his earlobe, middle of his forehead and finally one on his waiting lips.
And again he found himself not wanting to open his eyes. Now because of a completely different kind of reason.
Back [Daniel/Cesc, PG-13]
The first Christmas the Spaniard spend with Daniel, was one of the best he’d ever had. He wasn’t sure if it could beat the ones he’d experienced as a kid, the excitement he had felt back then was quite difficult to outdo, but it came pretty close.
And what amazed him was that the Christmas with Dan wasn’t that special, not in a typical manner anyway. There were no sweets or big surprises, no noisy relatives. There was just the two of them, lying in bed and eating their attempts at preparing a Christmas meal with their not-so-dashing cooking skills. But maybe the way Daniel could make it unique with only his presence was what the speciality of it was based on.
As always, the time of Daniel’s departure came too early, but it wasn’t like he could ignore the training and the Boxing Day match.
“Is stupid, that you have to go,” Cesc whined as he sat on the bed and watched Daniel who was trying to pack his bag.
“Cesc, you more than anyone should know that I have no other option,” the Dane answered from where he laid on the floor, looking for his socks.
“But it is a waste of time to go to Liverpool for only one match when you are coming back in two days. It’s not like you’ll get to play, anyway.” Cesc regretted his words immediately as he saw how Daniel’s face fell. The young defender was now sitting on the floor, looking at his hands and the sight of it made Cesc want to take the words back even more. The Spaniard dropped on his knees beside the young Dane and put his hand on the other man’s.
“I am sorry, Daniel. Was wrong of me to say something like that.” Cesc brought Dan’s hand on his lips and pressed feathery kisses on the knuckles.
“It’s alright. And besides, that is completely true.” The defender said defeated, wanting nothing but being starting along those ten top men again. Cesc watched Danny’s facial expressions altering from anxious to wretched, the Dane’s attempts to hide his emotions failing miserably. The midfielder pulled the other man into a warm and comforting embrace and hugged him tight, as Daniel pressed his face against the Spaniard’s neck.
“You’ll show them, I know you will,” he whispered into the Dane’s ear and added a silent “I love you” to the end.
“I forgot to say something to you,” Dan whispered after a while.
“And what is that, love?”
“God jul!” The defender wished him, flashing a childish grin at his lover.
“Feliz Navidad, Dan.”
To [Cesc/Nick, R]
Cesc had never known he could enjoy Christmas in London more than Christmas in Barcelona. But London definitely had its benefits, like waking up with Nicklas Bendtner’s bare arse right next to him. If he was completely honest, he loved to spend the Christmas with the tall Dane, even if it meant staying in the rainy London.
He loved to help Nick with all the food, although he knew that he was more trouble than help when it came to kitchens, to watch how his lover prepared Christmas food in the Danish way, which, if he was being honest, totally freaked him out, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Nick about his doubts.
To let the striker have his way and give him the opportunity to serve his lover all the dishes he had spent a lot of time preparing. And to be pleasantly surprised by the fact that the Danish Christmas food wasn’t that bad after all, however weird and unfamiliar it might’ve looked and smelled like.
To give in to the unbearably persuasive, gorgeous boyfriend of his and accept his request of doing the gift exchange the Scandinavian way, a day earlier, however odd he found it. To unwrap the colourful paper off the gifts, he was, no matter how mature he tried to act, still just a kid inside after all.
To watch how somewhat surprised, but nevertheless happy smile was put upon Nick’s face by the gift that had been found from the box. To receive a quiet verbal thank you as well as equally appreciated, but definitely more exciting, non-verbal one in form of a loving, meaningful kiss that he only wanted to end so he would be able to receive many, many others.
To lead Nick over to their bedroom and on the bed by his pale hand, all the while drowning in those beautiful, captivating eyes. To remove every piece of clothing, except for the Santa hat Nick was still wearing, and to kiss every bit of skin exposed. To get prepared for something bigger and better with Nick’s long, slippery fingers and finally to be entered with what he wanted and needed the most, to feel all of Nick’s love moving inside him, making him melt in his tender embrace.
To come all over his lover’s hand, knowing that it wouldn’t end to this, that there were many places he would come into as the night went on. And especially to feel the Dane’s strong, caring arms pulling him closer to the safety his sweaty body offered him.
Cesc missed the Spanish Christmas traditions and everything that was involved with them, the food, the sweets, the relatives, even the mass. But he couldn’t wait to get to create new, Spanish-Danish-English ones with Nick.
Bed [Daniel/Fernando, G]
Daniel’s head hurt. An unbelievably hard pain was going through his nervous system and it made him want to just drift off back to the safety of sleep. But once he’d woken up, there was no going back.
It didn’t take long for him to realise, after he’d opened his eyes, that the place he was in was not his home. The room didn’t seem familiar and the bed certainly wasn’t his. Where am I? And what the fuck happened last night? He had no recollection whatsoever of the previous night’s happenings. He did know that the lads from the team had thrown a Christmas party that had contained lots and lots of booze and drunken, not-so-secret sexual activity between certain team mates, but that was all. His mind was blank. Memory totally erased by the rather large amount of liquor he’d obviously been drinking last night.
Waking up in an unfamiliar bed on Christmas Day wasn’t that bad. The situation could’ve been a lot worse. But what did get him anxious was the movement he felt on his left side. There was something moving under the duvet, in the same bed with him. In spite of the hung-over stage of mind he was presently in, the Dane did understand that there was only one realistic option of what the moving object on his left side could be. A man. Probably a team mate of his, which made everything so much more complicated. He didn’t roll over to see who it was, but stayed laying there quite still, afraid of waking the stranger (would it really be a stranger?) up.
He had plenty of time to get up, and the moment he heard the stranger move even closer to him and saw an arm snaking around his waist, he knew he should’ve taken the opportunity when he’d had it. Now there was no escape from the other man’s arms. Oh, fuck.
Daniel laid there, secretly relishing the feeling of safety the warm hand around his waist brought him, and tried to come up with a plan. Getting away from the other man’s grip and out of the apartment without waking up the man that was sleeping beside him seemed impossible. It wasn’t all that surprising that he couldn’t come up with a plan that would actually work. And because he was not a coward, he decided to just face the awkwardness that awaited him.
It wasn’t long before he could feel the stranger stirring next to him. He heard a silent, sleepy moan emerge from the man and suddenly, he felt nervous. The defender pretended to be sleeping as he felt the hold on his waist loosen, but not entirely letting go, and a warm breath tickled the side of his neck. He could’ve sworn he felt just a slight touch of lips on his skin, but the contact was lost before he even properly realised it had been there. The touch, no matter how light, made him feel oddly giddy.
“Daniel?” The whisper was just barely audible enough for him to hear. It was a voice Daniel was very familiar with, there was absolutely no change of him not recognising that heavily accented tone.
And then the lips were on his neck again, more eager and confident now. When the wetness of the stranger’s (the Spaniard’s) tongue came in contact with his skin, the events from the previous night came back to him.
“I thought you said you don’t non-Spanish beer,” Daniel commented as he saw the bottle in the striker’s hand. Seeing the label, which was familiar to him from the jerseys, made him smile.
“I don’t. But is the best you can get around here,” the Spaniard answered, returning the smile, before taking a swig from the bottle.
The party had got a little out of hand (and that was an huge understatement), the footballers that usually were so careful with their drinking and partying seemed to have forgotten all about the rules and regulations. Daniel had never seen any of them having that many drinks or being that loosened up. He could see Steven and Xabi dancing way too close to each other, though neither one of them was known from their dancing skills and the so-called dancing was more like a public foreplay with its mesmerizing skin-against-skin contact and the frequent rubbing and shameless touching. In one corner there was the tall Finn, that he had started to consider as his master (in a very professional and non-sexual way, of course), sitting suspiciously close to their new Irish striker. At the moment Sami was laughing aloud with the other man and looked happier than he had in a long time.
The next time he came across to Fernando, they’d both had way too many drinks and it didn’t take long for them to call a taxi and get into the Spaniard’s apartment.
As the details of their night together replayed in his mind, Daniel felt a deep blush creeping into his cheeks. He started to roll over, finally ready to face his team mate and when he opened his eyes, it was to see two brown ones looking (smiling) back at him. Neither one of them said a word; Fernando just pressed his lips onto his.
When the contact finally broke, Daniel sat himself up and started to look for his boxers.
“You going somewhere?” The possessive hands that seemed to appear from nowhere rounded him and the Spaniard leaned his head on the defender’s shoulder. Daniel knew what he should’ve answered. But he also knew what he wanted to answer.
And he had always been a bit of rebellion and an adventurer.
Author: Salmiaggi
Rating: G-R
Paring: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger/Cesc Fàbregas, Cesc Fábregas/Nicklas Bendtner, Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Genre: fluff, angst, sappy romance and everything Christmassy
Summary: The Liverpool and Arsenal players have different ways of celebrating Christmas.
Wordcount: 1083 + 437 + 463 + 926
Disclaimer: If this was really happening, I wouldn’t have to write about it, would I?
Author’s Notes: I was supposed to write this long, long Christmas fic that was set in every fan girl’s fantasy world, where everyone’s gay in our fandom, but it didn’t happen. Well, it did, but it happened quite horribly. And although it might seem like I can only write S/X, I am able to write other parings too and that’s what I’m trying to prove with this. Oh, and the title’s from John Mayer’s song Come Back To Bed. This is for all people that has been reading my fics and leaving me great and encouraging comments. I really appreciate that. But this is especially for paulii_oh_yesh , who asked [well, more like ordered me to write] Cesc/Danny. MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!
Feedback: Sí, por favor! I love it! C: And definitely need it!
Come [Steven/Xabi, R]
Xabi didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t have any reason to get up on that bright Christmas Day’s morning. He didn’t have that familiar body pressed against his, nor were there tiny, loving kisses on his lips, neck, eyelids, and brows to wake him up. No reason at all to open his eyes.
But eventually he did open them. Although, he decided, there was no reason to get up, there were even less reasons not to do so.
Stepping into the empty living room and seeing the gifts under the Christmas tree he’d decorated with Steven’s girls the previous day made him feel even lonelier. He quickly turned his gaze away from the tree; he didn’t want to think about Steven the whole day. Surely he could have nice Christmas by himself.
He had no intention of feeling lonely and bitter on Christmas Day, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed. Just thinking about the last few days made him feel bad.
“Fuck, Xabi, what’s going on? Why are you pushing this now?” If Steven hadn’t been annoyed before, he was now. His face had reddened and Xabi knew he shouldn’t force the matter, but he did it anyway. Winding Steven up was the best way for him to deal with all the frustration and irritation he was feeling himself.
“I can’t believe you still haven’t done it. You promised me you’d do it hundred times over. Every week I hear the same thing. ‘Tonight I’m going to do it, Xabi, I promise you. I’m going to leave her.’ But have you kept your promise, Steven?” Xabi felt tears prickling his eyes, but he wouldn’t cry.
“No, I haven’t. But do you realise how hard this is for me? Leaving my girls and the woman I’m married to?”
“I know it is hard, I have never claimed otherwise. But can’t you see how much this is hurting me? You say you love me and that nothing could make you happier than the chance of just being with me, but still you go back to her, without keeping your promise.”
Just thinking about all the fight’s they had gone through over the same matter got him boiling. But no matter how angry he was to Stevie, no matter how disappointed or betrayed he felt, he’d do anything to just have his captain there with him so he wouldn’t have to spent the Christmas all by himself. But Steven was at his home, having the time of his life with his wife and his children, just as he was supposed to be. Surely he couldn’t take away the girls’ father at Christmas.
His doorbell rang late that night. Xabi looked down at the pathetic little sandwich he was munching on and decided that whoever was behind that door, he wouldn’t be worth getting up from the sofa. He continued watching his DVD (the only thing he thought could cheer him up; the Champions League final from Istanbul), but the doorbell wouldn’t stop interrupting him.
“Fuck off!” He yelled from where he was sitting, on the couch in front of the telly, but the doorbell kept insisting. And the next thing he knew there was a voice, very familiar one, yelling back at him.
“Come on, Xabi, let me in.” He could hear the desperation in that demanding voice.
“Open the door, I’m freezing my fucking balls off!” The captain then demanded and Xabi got up from the sofa.
“What are you doing here?” He asked once he’d opened the door and the Scouser had made his way in pass the reluctant Spaniard. Stevie took his time before answering, taking off his coat and the expensive looking shoes. Finally he turned to face the other midfielder, who’d been standing and staring quietly, back still against the door.
“I did it. I left her.” Steven said quietly and watched as Xabi’s expression changed from indifferent to a shocked one.
“What?” Xabi asked, for he could not believe the words that had came out of his captain’s mouth.
“I left Alex, Xabi. I told her the truth and I left her.” Stevie said and a shy smile appeared on his face. It faded soon as Xabi’s next words dawned on him.
“You can’t leave her at Christmas. Think about the girls, Steven, Christmas is all about children.”
“I did think about the girls. They’re at Alex’s mum like we planned. And I thought you’d be happy. I’m here to stay, Xabi.” He could see the Spaniard’s doubts and fears shattering into pieces and although Xabi felt bad, especially for the girls, but, at least in some stage, for Alex too, he was only human. This was what he’d been waiting for so long. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes again, but this time he wasn’t so sure he could keep himself from crying for long.
“Come here, you. I want to hold you.” Xabi didn’t hesitate to walk over and into Steven’s warm embrace. For a long time they just stood there, holding each other close, all the while murmuring soft and loving insurances to one another. When Stevie lifted his head to look at the Spaniard, he noticed the wet trails on his lover’s cheeks.
“You’re crying.” He remarked softly and smiled. A silent shook of head was all he got out of his Spanish lover.
“Yes, you are, you soft lad.” Steven raised his right hand to get the other man raise his gaze from his red, fluffy reindeer socks and pulled him into a searing kiss.
Soon they were stumbling towards the master bedroom, tongues battling over control, clothes vanishing along the way. Xabi’s hands roamed on the Scouser’s bare back, lips on his pale neck and his hips searched for much needed attention to the groin by pushing against Stevie’s. They stroked, shoved and groaned their way into a shivering climax, sweat bodies entangled, satisfied minds swelling by the utter feeling of love and need they both felt for each other.
On that Boxing Day morning Xabi felt soft lips caressing his face with loving kisses again. The stubbled chin first, then his dimples, the soft spot on the side of his nose, a lingering one on the left eyelid, one with tongue and teeth on his earlobe, middle of his forehead and finally one on his waiting lips.
And again he found himself not wanting to open his eyes. Now because of a completely different kind of reason.
Back [Daniel/Cesc, PG-13]
The first Christmas the Spaniard spend with Daniel, was one of the best he’d ever had. He wasn’t sure if it could beat the ones he’d experienced as a kid, the excitement he had felt back then was quite difficult to outdo, but it came pretty close.
And what amazed him was that the Christmas with Dan wasn’t that special, not in a typical manner anyway. There were no sweets or big surprises, no noisy relatives. There was just the two of them, lying in bed and eating their attempts at preparing a Christmas meal with their not-so-dashing cooking skills. But maybe the way Daniel could make it unique with only his presence was what the speciality of it was based on.
As always, the time of Daniel’s departure came too early, but it wasn’t like he could ignore the training and the Boxing Day match.
“Is stupid, that you have to go,” Cesc whined as he sat on the bed and watched Daniel who was trying to pack his bag.
“Cesc, you more than anyone should know that I have no other option,” the Dane answered from where he laid on the floor, looking for his socks.
“But it is a waste of time to go to Liverpool for only one match when you are coming back in two days. It’s not like you’ll get to play, anyway.” Cesc regretted his words immediately as he saw how Daniel’s face fell. The young defender was now sitting on the floor, looking at his hands and the sight of it made Cesc want to take the words back even more. The Spaniard dropped on his knees beside the young Dane and put his hand on the other man’s.
“I am sorry, Daniel. Was wrong of me to say something like that.” Cesc brought Dan’s hand on his lips and pressed feathery kisses on the knuckles.
“It’s alright. And besides, that is completely true.” The defender said defeated, wanting nothing but being starting along those ten top men again. Cesc watched Danny’s facial expressions altering from anxious to wretched, the Dane’s attempts to hide his emotions failing miserably. The midfielder pulled the other man into a warm and comforting embrace and hugged him tight, as Daniel pressed his face against the Spaniard’s neck.
“You’ll show them, I know you will,” he whispered into the Dane’s ear and added a silent “I love you” to the end.
“I forgot to say something to you,” Dan whispered after a while.
“And what is that, love?”
“God jul!” The defender wished him, flashing a childish grin at his lover.
“Feliz Navidad, Dan.”
To [Cesc/Nick, R]
Cesc had never known he could enjoy Christmas in London more than Christmas in Barcelona. But London definitely had its benefits, like waking up with Nicklas Bendtner’s bare arse right next to him. If he was completely honest, he loved to spend the Christmas with the tall Dane, even if it meant staying in the rainy London.
He loved to help Nick with all the food, although he knew that he was more trouble than help when it came to kitchens, to watch how his lover prepared Christmas food in the Danish way, which, if he was being honest, totally freaked him out, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Nick about his doubts.
To let the striker have his way and give him the opportunity to serve his lover all the dishes he had spent a lot of time preparing. And to be pleasantly surprised by the fact that the Danish Christmas food wasn’t that bad after all, however weird and unfamiliar it might’ve looked and smelled like.
To give in to the unbearably persuasive, gorgeous boyfriend of his and accept his request of doing the gift exchange the Scandinavian way, a day earlier, however odd he found it. To unwrap the colourful paper off the gifts, he was, no matter how mature he tried to act, still just a kid inside after all.
To watch how somewhat surprised, but nevertheless happy smile was put upon Nick’s face by the gift that had been found from the box. To receive a quiet verbal thank you as well as equally appreciated, but definitely more exciting, non-verbal one in form of a loving, meaningful kiss that he only wanted to end so he would be able to receive many, many others.
To lead Nick over to their bedroom and on the bed by his pale hand, all the while drowning in those beautiful, captivating eyes. To remove every piece of clothing, except for the Santa hat Nick was still wearing, and to kiss every bit of skin exposed. To get prepared for something bigger and better with Nick’s long, slippery fingers and finally to be entered with what he wanted and needed the most, to feel all of Nick’s love moving inside him, making him melt in his tender embrace.
To come all over his lover’s hand, knowing that it wouldn’t end to this, that there were many places he would come into as the night went on. And especially to feel the Dane’s strong, caring arms pulling him closer to the safety his sweaty body offered him.
Cesc missed the Spanish Christmas traditions and everything that was involved with them, the food, the sweets, the relatives, even the mass. But he couldn’t wait to get to create new, Spanish-Danish-English ones with Nick.
Bed [Daniel/Fernando, G]
Daniel’s head hurt. An unbelievably hard pain was going through his nervous system and it made him want to just drift off back to the safety of sleep. But once he’d woken up, there was no going back.
It didn’t take long for him to realise, after he’d opened his eyes, that the place he was in was not his home. The room didn’t seem familiar and the bed certainly wasn’t his. Where am I? And what the fuck happened last night? He had no recollection whatsoever of the previous night’s happenings. He did know that the lads from the team had thrown a Christmas party that had contained lots and lots of booze and drunken, not-so-secret sexual activity between certain team mates, but that was all. His mind was blank. Memory totally erased by the rather large amount of liquor he’d obviously been drinking last night.
Waking up in an unfamiliar bed on Christmas Day wasn’t that bad. The situation could’ve been a lot worse. But what did get him anxious was the movement he felt on his left side. There was something moving under the duvet, in the same bed with him. In spite of the hung-over stage of mind he was presently in, the Dane did understand that there was only one realistic option of what the moving object on his left side could be. A man. Probably a team mate of his, which made everything so much more complicated. He didn’t roll over to see who it was, but stayed laying there quite still, afraid of waking the stranger (would it really be a stranger?) up.
He had plenty of time to get up, and the moment he heard the stranger move even closer to him and saw an arm snaking around his waist, he knew he should’ve taken the opportunity when he’d had it. Now there was no escape from the other man’s arms. Oh, fuck.
Daniel laid there, secretly relishing the feeling of safety the warm hand around his waist brought him, and tried to come up with a plan. Getting away from the other man’s grip and out of the apartment without waking up the man that was sleeping beside him seemed impossible. It wasn’t all that surprising that he couldn’t come up with a plan that would actually work. And because he was not a coward, he decided to just face the awkwardness that awaited him.
It wasn’t long before he could feel the stranger stirring next to him. He heard a silent, sleepy moan emerge from the man and suddenly, he felt nervous. The defender pretended to be sleeping as he felt the hold on his waist loosen, but not entirely letting go, and a warm breath tickled the side of his neck. He could’ve sworn he felt just a slight touch of lips on his skin, but the contact was lost before he even properly realised it had been there. The touch, no matter how light, made him feel oddly giddy.
“Daniel?” The whisper was just barely audible enough for him to hear. It was a voice Daniel was very familiar with, there was absolutely no change of him not recognising that heavily accented tone.
And then the lips were on his neck again, more eager and confident now. When the wetness of the stranger’s (the Spaniard’s) tongue came in contact with his skin, the events from the previous night came back to him.
“I thought you said you don’t non-Spanish beer,” Daniel commented as he saw the bottle in the striker’s hand. Seeing the label, which was familiar to him from the jerseys, made him smile.
“I don’t. But is the best you can get around here,” the Spaniard answered, returning the smile, before taking a swig from the bottle.
The party had got a little out of hand (and that was an huge understatement), the footballers that usually were so careful with their drinking and partying seemed to have forgotten all about the rules and regulations. Daniel had never seen any of them having that many drinks or being that loosened up. He could see Steven and Xabi dancing way too close to each other, though neither one of them was known from their dancing skills and the so-called dancing was more like a public foreplay with its mesmerizing skin-against-skin contact and the frequent rubbing and shameless touching. In one corner there was the tall Finn, that he had started to consider as his master (in a very professional and non-sexual way, of course), sitting suspiciously close to their new Irish striker. At the moment Sami was laughing aloud with the other man and looked happier than he had in a long time.
The next time he came across to Fernando, they’d both had way too many drinks and it didn’t take long for them to call a taxi and get into the Spaniard’s apartment.
As the details of their night together replayed in his mind, Daniel felt a deep blush creeping into his cheeks. He started to roll over, finally ready to face his team mate and when he opened his eyes, it was to see two brown ones looking (smiling) back at him. Neither one of them said a word; Fernando just pressed his lips onto his.
When the contact finally broke, Daniel sat himself up and started to look for his boxers.
“You going somewhere?” The possessive hands that seemed to appear from nowhere rounded him and the Spaniard leaned his head on the defender’s shoulder. Daniel knew what he should’ve answered. But he also knew what he wanted to answer.
And he had always been a bit of rebellion and an adventurer.