Seriously
Seriously
Pairing: Nicklas Bendtner/Theo Walcott
Rating: PG13
Warnings: mentions of a certain male body part?
Disclaimer: not true. not true. not true.
Summary: Nick's back from being on loan only to find a certain dark haired striker in his place (not as serious as it sounds)
A/N: for hamletschild who wanted Nicky and Theo and "maybe jealousy." So yea, sorry, I'm pretty sure this was not at all what you had in mind. I tired to write a seriousy fic, honestly I did, but horny!Theo wouldn't leave me alone :(
Nicklas Bendtner had returned from being on loan a “more serious player,” “a more seasoned player,” “more experienced,” “more level,” “with more thought,” “with more maturity.” What the papers didn’t mention was that he’d also returned an ostracised player.
They’d sent him away for experience and seasoning? He could have gotten those things here, with the club he’d left his country for. And now he had to watch this man- this boy (never mind that he was only a year younger than Nicklas) - laughing and joking with the other Gunners. If he’d gotten to stay at the club who’d signed him, instead of being shipped off to Birmingham he might be laughing and joking too, but as it was he was just that goofy, tall Danish kid.
Nicklas glared across the locker room at the darker striker. He got to play more, he got more goals, more assists, he was a better player! And yet the Englishman was more popular, the other players joked with him, included him. It wasn’t like Nicklas wasn’t likeable! The Danish national team liked him, Birmingham liked him. Why the hell didn’t he fit in with these men??
He could admit it, he was jealous of Walcott’s easy and open manner, but he was also more than a little jealous of all the others who talked to the young Brit, who were a part of his little jokes, who could laugh so easily with him. Nicklas was an older, more experienced player playing Walcott’s position, why didn’t he want to talk to him, get some advice, you know that sort of thing.
“You’re thinking quite hard.” Cesc Fabregas flopped down next to the brooding Dane, still smiling from whatever joke the others were sharing.
Well Cesc liked him at least. But then again, that was because he was Cesc and he liked everyone.
“Just, you know, thinking.” Nick coughed, tearing his gaze away from his happy team mates.
“They do like you, you know.” Sometimes Cesc was more astute than people give him credit for.
“Whatever, I’m just here to play football, right?” Nick gave the Spaniard a rueful smile.
Cesc watched him pack up his kit bag and turn to go.
“Nicklas!” The Dane turned. “Come have a beer with us?”
“I don’t think so, Cesc.”
Cesc turned his damn pout on the blonde striker, “Come on… with me, it’ll be fun.”
Nick bit his lip, he really didn’t want to impose himself on the other players but the Catalan looked so earnest so his nodded his consent and Cesc seized his arm.
“Okay, I’m driving!” Nick sighed but allowed the happy midfielder to pull him towards the door. “We’ll meet you guys at the pub.” Cesc shouted at the locker room in general.
“We-?” Rosicky asked.
“Yeah, sure, we’ll see you there!” Kolo cut in, giving Nicklas a reassuring smile.
Cesc dragged Nick out into the parking lot before the Dane could say anything.
“Cesc, they obviously don’t-”
The Spaniard’s hand slapped over his mouth shut him up.
“No. You’re coming.” That was the most authoritarian Nick had every heard the midfielder.
So he heaved another long suffering sigh and climbed into Cesc’s passenger seat. They drove in silence to the pub, arriving just ahead of Robin and Deni who were shocked to see the Dane but managed to cover it well.
And right about then Nick realized he was going to need a couple drinks or else he was going to bolt, no matter what Cesc had to say about it. The foursome settled into a large booth and their team mates started to filter in, dragging another table over to accommodate them all.
As the night wore on, Nick was revelling in the warm, fuzzy feeling of having just enough to drink and laughing along with the other players. While Cesc was obviously enjoying the feeling of being on the wrong side of too much to drink.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Damn you, Fabregas. Theo glared over his beer at the dark haired midfielder currently curled up against Nicklas, laughing. Theo was sitting at the table, having been one of the last to arrive, and Nick was sitting in the booth, surrounded by three team mates on each side, too many for Theo to try and slid in next to him without being too obvious.
“It’s your own fault,” Theo hadn’t even noticed that Philippe had claimed the seat next to him. “You’ve never spoken to him.”
“But I’ve done everything else!” The Swiss raised his eyebrow. “I’ve made jokes, I always smile, I make a point of walking past him, I even flashed him once!”
The defender choked on his beer, “What? When?!”
“Last week, after training! My towel just happened to fall when I was walking into the locker room.”
“Oh I remember that!” Gael leaned in from Theo’s other side. “I thought your towel had slipped.”
“No one asked you, Clichy.” Theo glared at the Frenchman.
“Regardless of whether or not you’ve exposed yourself to him,” Phil cut in, chuckling. “The fact remains that you haven’t had a conversation with him.”
“So?!” Theo sighed, “I just want him to notice me.”
Phil and Gael exchanged looks.
“Okay, okay! I want him to notice me so that he’ll shag me senseless!” Theo admitted. “Not, stupid Cesc.” He added moodily.
“Well, Cesc’s the only one of us who’s really gone out of his way to make Bendtner feel welcome,” Phil headed off Theo’s argument. “No, showing him your bits and pieces doesn’t count; you need to use your words.”
Phil thought he heard the poor boy growl when Bendtner leaned down to whisper something in Cesc’s ear but then the other striker was sliding past Kolo and Tomas and Vito and heading for the washrooms.
“Now’s your chance!” Gael encouraged the discouraged Brit as he and Phil manhandled the younger man out of his seat and pushed him in the direction of the Dane.
Theo didn’t know what he was going to say; what could he say? ‘Hey, fancy a quick go in the loo’ didn’t seem quite right, nor did ‘hey, since you’ve already got it out….’ So consequently Theo found himself in the bathroom, watching the other striker’s back as he relieved himself.
When he heard the door open but saw and heard no other movement, Nick looked back over his shoulder. His gut clenched when he saw who was standing there.
“Uhh, Hey, Walcott.” Nick really wished his didn’t have his dick in his hands at this moment.
“Hey… Nicklas.”
Nick finished up and zipped up and went to wash his hands.
“Uh, so what’s up?”
Theo realized he was just standing there like an idiot, watching another man pee.
“Oh, you know, just want to clear my head and all that…” Theo went to the sink next to Nicklas and made a show of splashing water on his face.
“Right.”
Nick lingered over drying his hands, his inner voice yelling: talk to him! Talk to him! While Theo’s inner voice was saying: touch his penis. Do it.
“Right. Well, I’m gonna go back.” Nick said awkwardly while Theo was trying to get his inner voice to shut the hell up.
“Right, right, Cesc’s waiting I guess.”
“Cesc?”
“Yea, Cesc, you know, bouncy Spanish midfielder.” Not that Theo was jealous or anything.
The Dane gave a confused chuckle, “But why would he be waiting for me?”
“Erm…” Theo paused, how could Nicklas not realize that Cesc was draped all over him?
Then the blonde striker seemed to catch on.
“Oh, no, no, no! Cesc and I don’t- that is we aren’t- oh God, we’re not-” But Theo started to chuckle at the other man who was tripping over himself to explain.
“Oh.” Theo said with a small smile.
“Why? I mean why would you think that?”
“Well, you know, you guys are always talking and all that…” Theo explained vaguely.
Nicklas couldn’t keep back the bitter snort of laughter, “He’s the only one who talks to me.”
“I…” Nick gave him a look. “I want to talk to you.” Theo amended.
The Dane rolled his eyes and turned to go.
“No, I’m serious!” Theo grabbed the other man’s arm.
Nick looked down at the hand that was now pulling him closer to the other footballer.
“Seriously.” Theo whispered against the taller striker’s lips.
They stood like that, breathing each other’s air, Nick’s eyes closed while Theo’s were locked on the Dane’s lips.
“So say something.” Nick managed to sound calm.
“Kiss me.” Theo said the only thing that was on his mind and Nick’s eyes flew open.
The Dane scrutinized the younger man until Theo was desperate to get away from his gaze, but couldn’t get his hand to unclasp the other striker’s arm.
“Seriously.” Theo breathed.
Nick’s brow furrowed slightly before he was pressing forwards, his lips meeting Theo’s in a chaste kiss. He pulled back half an inch, examining the dazed Brit’s face before licking his lips, narrowly missing wetting Theo’s as well.
“I want… can we…?” Theo felt like he was a very awkward little boy again as he struggled for the words.
“Let’s get out of here.” Theo felt Nick’s lips moving millimetres from his own. “Seriously.” The Dane added with a rare grin.
Pairing: Nicklas Bendtner/Theo Walcott
Rating: PG13
Warnings: mentions of a certain male body part?
Disclaimer: not true. not true. not true.
Summary: Nick's back from being on loan only to find a certain dark haired striker in his place (not as serious as it sounds)
A/N: for hamletschild who wanted Nicky and Theo and "maybe jealousy." So yea, sorry, I'm pretty sure this was not at all what you had in mind. I tired to write a seriousy fic, honestly I did, but horny!Theo wouldn't leave me alone :(
Nicklas Bendtner had returned from being on loan a “more serious player,” “a more seasoned player,” “more experienced,” “more level,” “with more thought,” “with more maturity.” What the papers didn’t mention was that he’d also returned an ostracised player.
They’d sent him away for experience and seasoning? He could have gotten those things here, with the club he’d left his country for. And now he had to watch this man- this boy (never mind that he was only a year younger than Nicklas) - laughing and joking with the other Gunners. If he’d gotten to stay at the club who’d signed him, instead of being shipped off to Birmingham he might be laughing and joking too, but as it was he was just that goofy, tall Danish kid.
Nicklas glared across the locker room at the darker striker. He got to play more, he got more goals, more assists, he was a better player! And yet the Englishman was more popular, the other players joked with him, included him. It wasn’t like Nicklas wasn’t likeable! The Danish national team liked him, Birmingham liked him. Why the hell didn’t he fit in with these men??
He could admit it, he was jealous of Walcott’s easy and open manner, but he was also more than a little jealous of all the others who talked to the young Brit, who were a part of his little jokes, who could laugh so easily with him. Nicklas was an older, more experienced player playing Walcott’s position, why didn’t he want to talk to him, get some advice, you know that sort of thing.
“You’re thinking quite hard.” Cesc Fabregas flopped down next to the brooding Dane, still smiling from whatever joke the others were sharing.
Well Cesc liked him at least. But then again, that was because he was Cesc and he liked everyone.
“Just, you know, thinking.” Nick coughed, tearing his gaze away from his happy team mates.
“They do like you, you know.” Sometimes Cesc was more astute than people give him credit for.
“Whatever, I’m just here to play football, right?” Nick gave the Spaniard a rueful smile.
Cesc watched him pack up his kit bag and turn to go.
“Nicklas!” The Dane turned. “Come have a beer with us?”
“I don’t think so, Cesc.”
Cesc turned his damn pout on the blonde striker, “Come on… with me, it’ll be fun.”
Nick bit his lip, he really didn’t want to impose himself on the other players but the Catalan looked so earnest so his nodded his consent and Cesc seized his arm.
“Okay, I’m driving!” Nick sighed but allowed the happy midfielder to pull him towards the door. “We’ll meet you guys at the pub.” Cesc shouted at the locker room in general.
“We-?” Rosicky asked.
“Yeah, sure, we’ll see you there!” Kolo cut in, giving Nicklas a reassuring smile.
Cesc dragged Nick out into the parking lot before the Dane could say anything.
“Cesc, they obviously don’t-”
The Spaniard’s hand slapped over his mouth shut him up.
“No. You’re coming.” That was the most authoritarian Nick had every heard the midfielder.
So he heaved another long suffering sigh and climbed into Cesc’s passenger seat. They drove in silence to the pub, arriving just ahead of Robin and Deni who were shocked to see the Dane but managed to cover it well.
And right about then Nick realized he was going to need a couple drinks or else he was going to bolt, no matter what Cesc had to say about it. The foursome settled into a large booth and their team mates started to filter in, dragging another table over to accommodate them all.
As the night wore on, Nick was revelling in the warm, fuzzy feeling of having just enough to drink and laughing along with the other players. While Cesc was obviously enjoying the feeling of being on the wrong side of too much to drink.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Damn you, Fabregas. Theo glared over his beer at the dark haired midfielder currently curled up against Nicklas, laughing. Theo was sitting at the table, having been one of the last to arrive, and Nick was sitting in the booth, surrounded by three team mates on each side, too many for Theo to try and slid in next to him without being too obvious.
“It’s your own fault,” Theo hadn’t even noticed that Philippe had claimed the seat next to him. “You’ve never spoken to him.”
“But I’ve done everything else!” The Swiss raised his eyebrow. “I’ve made jokes, I always smile, I make a point of walking past him, I even flashed him once!”
The defender choked on his beer, “What? When?!”
“Last week, after training! My towel just happened to fall when I was walking into the locker room.”
“Oh I remember that!” Gael leaned in from Theo’s other side. “I thought your towel had slipped.”
“No one asked you, Clichy.” Theo glared at the Frenchman.
“Regardless of whether or not you’ve exposed yourself to him,” Phil cut in, chuckling. “The fact remains that you haven’t had a conversation with him.”
“So?!” Theo sighed, “I just want him to notice me.”
Phil and Gael exchanged looks.
“Okay, okay! I want him to notice me so that he’ll shag me senseless!” Theo admitted. “Not, stupid Cesc.” He added moodily.
“Well, Cesc’s the only one of us who’s really gone out of his way to make Bendtner feel welcome,” Phil headed off Theo’s argument. “No, showing him your bits and pieces doesn’t count; you need to use your words.”
Phil thought he heard the poor boy growl when Bendtner leaned down to whisper something in Cesc’s ear but then the other striker was sliding past Kolo and Tomas and Vito and heading for the washrooms.
“Now’s your chance!” Gael encouraged the discouraged Brit as he and Phil manhandled the younger man out of his seat and pushed him in the direction of the Dane.
Theo didn’t know what he was going to say; what could he say? ‘Hey, fancy a quick go in the loo’ didn’t seem quite right, nor did ‘hey, since you’ve already got it out….’ So consequently Theo found himself in the bathroom, watching the other striker’s back as he relieved himself.
When he heard the door open but saw and heard no other movement, Nick looked back over his shoulder. His gut clenched when he saw who was standing there.
“Uhh, Hey, Walcott.” Nick really wished his didn’t have his dick in his hands at this moment.
“Hey… Nicklas.”
Nick finished up and zipped up and went to wash his hands.
“Uh, so what’s up?”
Theo realized he was just standing there like an idiot, watching another man pee.
“Oh, you know, just want to clear my head and all that…” Theo went to the sink next to Nicklas and made a show of splashing water on his face.
“Right.”
Nick lingered over drying his hands, his inner voice yelling: talk to him! Talk to him! While Theo’s inner voice was saying: touch his penis. Do it.
“Right. Well, I’m gonna go back.” Nick said awkwardly while Theo was trying to get his inner voice to shut the hell up.
“Right, right, Cesc’s waiting I guess.”
“Cesc?”
“Yea, Cesc, you know, bouncy Spanish midfielder.” Not that Theo was jealous or anything.
The Dane gave a confused chuckle, “But why would he be waiting for me?”
“Erm…” Theo paused, how could Nicklas not realize that Cesc was draped all over him?
Then the blonde striker seemed to catch on.
“Oh, no, no, no! Cesc and I don’t- that is we aren’t- oh God, we’re not-” But Theo started to chuckle at the other man who was tripping over himself to explain.
“Oh.” Theo said with a small smile.
“Why? I mean why would you think that?”
“Well, you know, you guys are always talking and all that…” Theo explained vaguely.
Nicklas couldn’t keep back the bitter snort of laughter, “He’s the only one who talks to me.”
“I…” Nick gave him a look. “I want to talk to you.” Theo amended.
The Dane rolled his eyes and turned to go.
“No, I’m serious!” Theo grabbed the other man’s arm.
Nick looked down at the hand that was now pulling him closer to the other footballer.
“Seriously.” Theo whispered against the taller striker’s lips.
They stood like that, breathing each other’s air, Nick’s eyes closed while Theo’s were locked on the Dane’s lips.
“So say something.” Nick managed to sound calm.
“Kiss me.” Theo said the only thing that was on his mind and Nick’s eyes flew open.
The Dane scrutinized the younger man until Theo was desperate to get away from his gaze, but couldn’t get his hand to unclasp the other striker’s arm.
“Seriously.” Theo breathed.
Nick’s brow furrowed slightly before he was pressing forwards, his lips meeting Theo’s in a chaste kiss. He pulled back half an inch, examining the dazed Brit’s face before licking his lips, narrowly missing wetting Theo’s as well.
“I want… can we…?” Theo felt like he was a very awkward little boy again as he struggled for the words.
“Let’s get out of here.” Theo felt Nick’s lips moving millimetres from his own. “Seriously.” The Dane added with a rare grin.