Sleep - Juan Mata/Javi Martinez
Title: Sleep
Pairing: Juan Mata/Javi Martinez
Words: 808
Disclaimer: this isn't true, it never happened, this is all in my imagination, etc.
Rating: PG
Author's note: I couldn't resist these two.
It really, really hurts. How could they draw 0-0 at Norwich City, who hadn’t even played well? They had been messy and disorgansied and Chelsea still couldn’t get a goal past them.
Juan curls up in his bed, feeling like a failure. He and Fernando hadn’t been on, that was obvious, but they still should have come out on top. They had dominated at points, more often than they had struggled. He’d scored against them in his debut, so why couldn’t he tonight?
He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut, and pulls the blankets up over his head as if it could block out the world.
It doesn’t.
Somewhere on the other side of the bed, his iPhone beeps its text message alert. He debates not even looking at it, but it could be his mum or someone, so he reaches out. His hand finds it on the other pillow and he draws the phone in under the blanket with him to unlock the screen.
Javi: tough break tonight. chin up, next week will be better.
Juan smiles to himself and quickly texts back.
thanks. good luck tomorrow against Madrid.
Funny how one text can make the awful match seem a little less awful.
He locks the phone and sighs again, falling in to go to sleep.
***
The next night the loss still hurts, but less, as Juan turns the television on to watch Javi’s match. Playing Real Madrid at home is never easy, but Athletic is a club that doesn’t back down. He’s torn between the team that taught him most of what he knows about being a footballer, and the team that means so much to Javi.
Athletic go one-nil up in the thirteenth minute when Llorente finds Javi’s cross in the box and Juan can’t help but grin as the Athletic players gather in a huddle and fall to the pitch.
Marcelo scores not even ten minutes later after a solid few minutes of Madrid chances, and the half ends 1-1.
It quickly goes from bad to worse for Athletic in the second half when Iturrasepe fouls Kaká in the box and Ronaldo makes the penalty, too high for Gorka to reach.
Another penalty in the sixty-sixth when De Marcos is shown a red for a foul on Ozil, and Juan finds himself yelling obscenities at the official, just as the Athletic players. But the man stands firm and Ronaldo knocks the ball in again, this time aiming too low for Gorka to reach.
The match ends a relentless thirty minutes later, the final score 4-1. Though Athletic hadn’t given up, they hadn’t been able to come back either. Juan understands their pain as the team troops dejectedly to the tunnel.
He picks up his phone from the arm of the sofa and sends a message, a single word.
Oviedo?
Ten minutes later, the reply comes.
Please.
Within a half hour, Juan has booked a flight and is on his way to the airport, texting Fernando from the back of the taxi to tell him he’s sick and will be unable to attend training in the morning, and could he please tell Andre he checked up on him? Fernando agrees without question, and Juan has a feeling his teammate knows exactly what is happening. Fernando and Sergio had been doing the same thing for years, and Fernando knew about Juan and Javi. Everyone knew about Juan and Javi. They had been the two youngest on the World Cup squad and it had been evident how close they were after years together in the youth levels.
When Juan arrives at the small house he keeps in his hometown of Oviedo at seven the next morning, he is exhausted. He slept very little on the plane thanks to a crying baby a few rows behind him. The front door of the house is unlocked, which can only mean one thing. He takes the stairs two at a time to find the bedroom door ajar.
Javi is already in bed, asleep, or so it seems.
“About time you got here,” he mumbles as he opens his eyes.
“Sorry, had to book a flight with a stop,” Juan replies as he leans down to kiss him.
Javi’s mouth is warm and familiar and Juan has to pull back because it feels like he could kiss him for hours and this isn’t a very comfortable position, nor what they’re here for.
“Doesn’t matter. Just come here.”
Javi stifles a yawn with the back of his hand as Juan toes his trainers off and strips down to his boxers. Juan climbs into bed and settles in, back to Javi’s chest, and Javi wraps an arm around his middle and pulls him in, chin on his shoulder.
“Go to sleep,” Javi whispers and Juan lets his breath out, closing his eyes.
Sleep.
in case you don't believe this pairing
Pairing: Juan Mata/Javi Martinez
Words: 808
Disclaimer: this isn't true, it never happened, this is all in my imagination, etc.
Rating: PG
Author's note: I couldn't resist these two.
It really, really hurts. How could they draw 0-0 at Norwich City, who hadn’t even played well? They had been messy and disorgansied and Chelsea still couldn’t get a goal past them.
Juan curls up in his bed, feeling like a failure. He and Fernando hadn’t been on, that was obvious, but they still should have come out on top. They had dominated at points, more often than they had struggled. He’d scored against them in his debut, so why couldn’t he tonight?
He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut, and pulls the blankets up over his head as if it could block out the world.
It doesn’t.
Somewhere on the other side of the bed, his iPhone beeps its text message alert. He debates not even looking at it, but it could be his mum or someone, so he reaches out. His hand finds it on the other pillow and he draws the phone in under the blanket with him to unlock the screen.
Javi: tough break tonight. chin up, next week will be better.
Juan smiles to himself and quickly texts back.
thanks. good luck tomorrow against Madrid.
Funny how one text can make the awful match seem a little less awful.
He locks the phone and sighs again, falling in to go to sleep.
***
The next night the loss still hurts, but less, as Juan turns the television on to watch Javi’s match. Playing Real Madrid at home is never easy, but Athletic is a club that doesn’t back down. He’s torn between the team that taught him most of what he knows about being a footballer, and the team that means so much to Javi.
Athletic go one-nil up in the thirteenth minute when Llorente finds Javi’s cross in the box and Juan can’t help but grin as the Athletic players gather in a huddle and fall to the pitch.
Marcelo scores not even ten minutes later after a solid few minutes of Madrid chances, and the half ends 1-1.
It quickly goes from bad to worse for Athletic in the second half when Iturrasepe fouls Kaká in the box and Ronaldo makes the penalty, too high for Gorka to reach.
Another penalty in the sixty-sixth when De Marcos is shown a red for a foul on Ozil, and Juan finds himself yelling obscenities at the official, just as the Athletic players. But the man stands firm and Ronaldo knocks the ball in again, this time aiming too low for Gorka to reach.
The match ends a relentless thirty minutes later, the final score 4-1. Though Athletic hadn’t given up, they hadn’t been able to come back either. Juan understands their pain as the team troops dejectedly to the tunnel.
He picks up his phone from the arm of the sofa and sends a message, a single word.
Oviedo?
Ten minutes later, the reply comes.
Please.
Within a half hour, Juan has booked a flight and is on his way to the airport, texting Fernando from the back of the taxi to tell him he’s sick and will be unable to attend training in the morning, and could he please tell Andre he checked up on him? Fernando agrees without question, and Juan has a feeling his teammate knows exactly what is happening. Fernando and Sergio had been doing the same thing for years, and Fernando knew about Juan and Javi. Everyone knew about Juan and Javi. They had been the two youngest on the World Cup squad and it had been evident how close they were after years together in the youth levels.
When Juan arrives at the small house he keeps in his hometown of Oviedo at seven the next morning, he is exhausted. He slept very little on the plane thanks to a crying baby a few rows behind him. The front door of the house is unlocked, which can only mean one thing. He takes the stairs two at a time to find the bedroom door ajar.
Javi is already in bed, asleep, or so it seems.
“About time you got here,” he mumbles as he opens his eyes.
“Sorry, had to book a flight with a stop,” Juan replies as he leans down to kiss him.
Javi’s mouth is warm and familiar and Juan has to pull back because it feels like he could kiss him for hours and this isn’t a very comfortable position, nor what they’re here for.
“Doesn’t matter. Just come here.”
Javi stifles a yawn with the back of his hand as Juan toes his trainers off and strips down to his boxers. Juan climbs into bed and settles in, back to Javi’s chest, and Javi wraps an arm around his middle and pulls him in, chin on his shoulder.
“Go to sleep,” Javi whispers and Juan lets his breath out, closing his eyes.
Sleep.
in case you don't believe this pairing
