Disapointment
Disapointment
Rating: 14A
Pairing: Fernando Torres/David Villa
Disclaimer: not true (maybe a little likely but not true)
Warnings: tiny bit of angst
A/N: based of these pictures from the Spain/Russia euro semifinal
Villa's down Nando's upset
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
“Shit! Villa’s down.” Pepe nudged Xabi on the bench.
“Cogida!*” Cesc cursed, standing and taking a couple steps forward.
The rest of the team was up and off the bench right after him. There were curses and nail biting and tension, Xabi thought he even heard Aragonés swearing under his breath. Everyone was concerned but Fernando looked like he was in almost as much agony as David himself.
The referee was over with them, leaning over the injured striker while Nando asked him a few questions and rubbed his back. The players on the bench were too far away to hear the questions or the answers but from the sad shaking of David’s head they could guess both. These suspicions were confirmed when the tight lipped ref signaled for the trainers to come on to the pitch. Xabi was sure this time he heard a soft but heartfelt “cogida” from the coach.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Marcos Senna made his way over and put a comforting hand on the helpless blonde striker’s shoulder. Fernando looked about, running a nervous hand through his hair as he awaited the trainer’s verdict. There was a soft hiss of pain from David when something tender got prodded and Nando squatted down to try and comfort his injured striking partner.
“It comes down to you, David,” the trainer was saying. “Do you think you can continue?”
Villa looked at Nando, their eyes meeting and Torres getting a full view of the torment going on inside the other striker, then David turned his head away, looking down, and gave his head a small shake and mumbled a soft “no.”
Fernando felt numb as he watched Villa hobble off the pitch and high five Cesc as the Gunner took his place.
“He’ll be ok,” Marcos tried to comfort him. “He probably just doesn’t want to hurt himself for the next game.”
Senna meant well but Fernando knew David well enough to know that if he could have played on, he would have. So he felt wretched for the rest of the game and barely noticed when he was subbed - again. He wanted to talk to the Valencia striker but knew that this probably wasn’t the best place for it so he held his tongue and watched Guiza score like he couldn’t and felt even worse.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
“Aclamaciones*!”
The whole team was out to celebrate being in the finals, there were cheers and toasts and that kind of creeping hope that maybe, just maybe, they could do it. The happiness Fernando felt was dampened both by his own perceived inadequacies and by the injured striker across the room, faking a smile at a bubbly Cesc Fabregas. Fernando decided to rescue him when Cesc launched into a play by play. He slid into the booth beside David and whispered in his ear.
“You wanna get out of here?”
David gave him a grateful look and nodded vigorously.
“Hey Cesc-“
“And then I was like *ka-shaw*, *whaBAM* and-”
“Cesc!” Fernando interrupted the midfielder’s animated retelling. “We’re both a little tired so we’re gonna head up stairs, tell Iker if he asks, ok?”
“Tired, eh?” Cesc asked suggestively and waggled his eyebrows.
Fernando just glared and rolled his eyes as he and David slid out of the booth and headed for the elevators.
“Thanks.” The darker striker said gratefully as the elevator *pinged* and the doors opened.
“Don’t mention it.” Fernando smiled warmly.
As soon as the doors closed David threw himself at the blonde, hungrily trying to devour his mouth. Fernando bumped into the side of the elevator as the force of the striker’s vigorous kissing threw him off balance.
“David,” Fernando panted when the other man’s attention turned to his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Want you.” He whispered, licking and sucking at Nando’s neck. “Right now.”
The elevator *pinged* again, announcing their floor and Fernando just managed to pull away from the other Spaniard as the doors opened and revealed a shirtless giddy looking Raúl Albiol wielding a set of pink water wings and a can of whipped cream. All three of them froze and Raul’s face paled.
“I-“ Albiol began.
“Wha-“ David started.
“Are-” Then Fernando decided he really didn’t want to know. “We’ll see ya later, Raul…”
“Yeah, yeah, heh… I wasn’t- I mean I’m not-” the defender scrambled to explain.
“Yeah, we know, don’t worry about it. We didn’t see you.” Fernando assured him.
“I- ok, thanks.” With that he scrambled into the elevator and punched a button.
David and Fernando stood for a moment staring at each other, a little confused.
“Was he really-…? I mean do you think-? With-”
“Don’t even think about it.” Fernando advised, heading for their room and hoping not to run into any more of their team mates.
David spared one more glance for the elevator before eagerly following the blonde into their room. Fernando was facing the kitchenette counter when he entered so David slid up behind him and pressed him against it, grinding a little. Fernando sighed.
“David, don’t you want to talk about this?”
“Hmm?” the brunette asked, nuzzling at Nando’s neck.
“You’re injured, that’s got to be killing you.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” David said, nibbling at his ear, his hand rubbing at the blonde’s shirt covered nipples.
“David.” Fernando tried to turn to face the other man but he had him pinned firmly. “I saw your face and I know how it feels to-”
“Nando?”
“Yeah?” He answered hopefully.
“Just shut up.”
Fernando couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that but couldn’t just let David distract him from the point.
“David.”
The brunette sighed.
“What do you want me to say, Fernando? That it’s killing me?” his voice began to rise. “That I can’t believe that I won’t be playing in the most important game of my life? That I can’t be down stairs with our team mates because they’re fit to play and I’m not and that drives me crazy?! That even being around you makes me so angry?! Is that what you want to hear?”
Fernando’s eyes filled with pity as he reached out to stroke the other man’s cheek. David slapped his hand away.
“No, I don’t want your pity. I want… I want this.” He seized Nando’s face between his hands and kissed him fiercely.
“David, I-” But the other striker silenced him roughly with a kiss that was more teeth than anything else.
“Don’t speak.”
Nando thought about protesting, about insisting that they needed to talk, that it would make him feel better but in the end he said nothing because their relationship off the pitch was like their relationship on the pitch, they didn’t need words to be completely in synch. So Fernando let David do as he liked until his passion was spent and then held him as he wept on the blonde’s bare chest and didn’t say a word.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
*fuck
*cheers
Rating: 14A
Pairing: Fernando Torres/David Villa
Disclaimer: not true (maybe a little likely but not true)
Warnings: tiny bit of angst
A/N: based of these pictures from the Spain/Russia euro semifinal
Villa's down Nando's upset
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
“Shit! Villa’s down.” Pepe nudged Xabi on the bench.
“Cogida!*” Cesc cursed, standing and taking a couple steps forward.
The rest of the team was up and off the bench right after him. There were curses and nail biting and tension, Xabi thought he even heard Aragonés swearing under his breath. Everyone was concerned but Fernando looked like he was in almost as much agony as David himself.
The referee was over with them, leaning over the injured striker while Nando asked him a few questions and rubbed his back. The players on the bench were too far away to hear the questions or the answers but from the sad shaking of David’s head they could guess both. These suspicions were confirmed when the tight lipped ref signaled for the trainers to come on to the pitch. Xabi was sure this time he heard a soft but heartfelt “cogida” from the coach.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Marcos Senna made his way over and put a comforting hand on the helpless blonde striker’s shoulder. Fernando looked about, running a nervous hand through his hair as he awaited the trainer’s verdict. There was a soft hiss of pain from David when something tender got prodded and Nando squatted down to try and comfort his injured striking partner.
“It comes down to you, David,” the trainer was saying. “Do you think you can continue?”
Villa looked at Nando, their eyes meeting and Torres getting a full view of the torment going on inside the other striker, then David turned his head away, looking down, and gave his head a small shake and mumbled a soft “no.”
Fernando felt numb as he watched Villa hobble off the pitch and high five Cesc as the Gunner took his place.
“He’ll be ok,” Marcos tried to comfort him. “He probably just doesn’t want to hurt himself for the next game.”
Senna meant well but Fernando knew David well enough to know that if he could have played on, he would have. So he felt wretched for the rest of the game and barely noticed when he was subbed - again. He wanted to talk to the Valencia striker but knew that this probably wasn’t the best place for it so he held his tongue and watched Guiza score like he couldn’t and felt even worse.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
“Aclamaciones*!”
The whole team was out to celebrate being in the finals, there were cheers and toasts and that kind of creeping hope that maybe, just maybe, they could do it. The happiness Fernando felt was dampened both by his own perceived inadequacies and by the injured striker across the room, faking a smile at a bubbly Cesc Fabregas. Fernando decided to rescue him when Cesc launched into a play by play. He slid into the booth beside David and whispered in his ear.
“You wanna get out of here?”
David gave him a grateful look and nodded vigorously.
“Hey Cesc-“
“And then I was like *ka-shaw*, *whaBAM* and-”
“Cesc!” Fernando interrupted the midfielder’s animated retelling. “We’re both a little tired so we’re gonna head up stairs, tell Iker if he asks, ok?”
“Tired, eh?” Cesc asked suggestively and waggled his eyebrows.
Fernando just glared and rolled his eyes as he and David slid out of the booth and headed for the elevators.
“Thanks.” The darker striker said gratefully as the elevator *pinged* and the doors opened.
“Don’t mention it.” Fernando smiled warmly.
As soon as the doors closed David threw himself at the blonde, hungrily trying to devour his mouth. Fernando bumped into the side of the elevator as the force of the striker’s vigorous kissing threw him off balance.
“David,” Fernando panted when the other man’s attention turned to his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Want you.” He whispered, licking and sucking at Nando’s neck. “Right now.”
The elevator *pinged* again, announcing their floor and Fernando just managed to pull away from the other Spaniard as the doors opened and revealed a shirtless giddy looking Raúl Albiol wielding a set of pink water wings and a can of whipped cream. All three of them froze and Raul’s face paled.
“I-“ Albiol began.
“Wha-“ David started.
“Are-” Then Fernando decided he really didn’t want to know. “We’ll see ya later, Raul…”
“Yeah, yeah, heh… I wasn’t- I mean I’m not-” the defender scrambled to explain.
“Yeah, we know, don’t worry about it. We didn’t see you.” Fernando assured him.
“I- ok, thanks.” With that he scrambled into the elevator and punched a button.
David and Fernando stood for a moment staring at each other, a little confused.
“Was he really-…? I mean do you think-? With-”
“Don’t even think about it.” Fernando advised, heading for their room and hoping not to run into any more of their team mates.
David spared one more glance for the elevator before eagerly following the blonde into their room. Fernando was facing the kitchenette counter when he entered so David slid up behind him and pressed him against it, grinding a little. Fernando sighed.
“David, don’t you want to talk about this?”
“Hmm?” the brunette asked, nuzzling at Nando’s neck.
“You’re injured, that’s got to be killing you.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” David said, nibbling at his ear, his hand rubbing at the blonde’s shirt covered nipples.
“David.” Fernando tried to turn to face the other man but he had him pinned firmly. “I saw your face and I know how it feels to-”
“Nando?”
“Yeah?” He answered hopefully.
“Just shut up.”
Fernando couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that but couldn’t just let David distract him from the point.
“David.”
The brunette sighed.
“What do you want me to say, Fernando? That it’s killing me?” his voice began to rise. “That I can’t believe that I won’t be playing in the most important game of my life? That I can’t be down stairs with our team mates because they’re fit to play and I’m not and that drives me crazy?! That even being around you makes me so angry?! Is that what you want to hear?”
Fernando’s eyes filled with pity as he reached out to stroke the other man’s cheek. David slapped his hand away.
“No, I don’t want your pity. I want… I want this.” He seized Nando’s face between his hands and kissed him fiercely.
“David, I-” But the other striker silenced him roughly with a kiss that was more teeth than anything else.
“Don’t speak.”
Nando thought about protesting, about insisting that they needed to talk, that it would make him feel better but in the end he said nothing because their relationship off the pitch was like their relationship on the pitch, they didn’t need words to be completely in synch. So Fernando let David do as he liked until his passion was spent and then held him as he wept on the blonde’s bare chest and didn’t say a word.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
*fuck
*cheers