5 Times Iker Casillas Wished He Wasn't The Spanish #1
5 Times Iker Casillas Wished He Wasn't The Spanish #1
Pairing: erm... well the only pairing really mentioned is Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Mentions of man sex...
Disclaimer: So unbelievably not true
A/N: I have the shortest attention span of life. for serious. I have a paper due in 2 days and I wrote this instead.
1.
Iker was walking down the hotel hallways, looking for the ice machine when he heard a strange noise. He couldn’t even begin to think of what could have caused it; he couldn’t even identify exactly what “it” sounded like. Iker, being a good captain, didn’t even think before deciding to investigate; if he had thought to look at the room number he most assuredly would have walked as quickly as he could in the other direction, but as it was he didn’t look.
“Hey guys, what was that-”
It wasn’t one of those times where Iker stood frozen in the doorway, staring in horror at the monstrous sight before him, oh no. The door was shut again before the keeper could even register why he had closed it. Then his brain caught up with his reflexes and he shuddered. Since when did hotel ironing board’s balance like that? Was Sergio really wearing-? How did Nando get his leg to-? No, no. Iker did not want to know.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
2.
Iker, once again innocently wandering the halls of their Austrian hotel, caught sight of the edge of something strange disappearing into the stairwell.
“What the?” Iker pushed the door open to see Cesc Fabregas kneeling next to a mattress at the top of the stairs.
“Iker!” Cesc squeaked. “I-erm… I’m…”
The younger man trailed off obviously at a loss for a lie that would explain this bizarre situation. The captain, long used to the Gunner’s antics, just sighed and tried to pull the mattress back into the hallway. Unfortunately Cesc let go at the same moment and the unexpected extra weight and his unsure footing pulled Iker off his feet to land on top of the mattress that was now sliding down the steep stairs at an alarming pace.
“FABREGAS!!” Iker bellowed, his voice echoing in the concrete lined stairwell.
Cesc stood open mouthed and watched helplessly as the mattress slammed into the wall and sent his captain sprawling, rather ungracefully, on to the floor. The young midfielder was torn between running for his life, checking to see if Iker was okay, and whining about the fact that he had wanted to be the first one to ride down the stairs. Luckily for him he chose option one while the keeper was still gathering his wits.
“Fabregas!” Iker bellowed again when he had regained his feet, only to see the door at the top of the stairs swinging shut.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
3.
After recovering from his unfortunate mattress incident and calling the front desk to inform them where the mattress to room 402 could be located he decided he needed a dose of normal. So he headed for Xabi and Carles’s room, figuring he’d ask if they wanted to go for a run or a swim or something.
“Xabi? Carles? I was wondering-”
“Don’t come in here!” There was a panicked almost squeak.
Now Iker had to go in because as far as he knew neither Xabier Alonso nor Carles Puyol made that kind of noise. He entered to see a red faced defender tossing a red stained towel to the side.
“Hey, Iker.” Carles said casually.
“Hey…” then he caught sight of the open lipstick container on the counter and looked from that to Carlos to the towel.
“I’m… I was…”
“Umm…” Iker had no words. “I’ll see you later, Carles.”
“I…right, sure thing, Captain.” Carles said with as much dignity as he could muster.
Iker left the room wishing he didn’t know so much about the Catalan defender and also wondering why the hell La Selección didn’t lock their doors?!
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
4.
Though Iker had vowed to himself that he would let these crazy Spaniards do as they wished and he would no longer interfere/look/investigate anything when he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone crying he wasn’t able to walk away. Iker checked the room number and knocked softly.
“Alvie? …Alvie are you okay?”
There was a sniffle and a teary: “Yes…” then the loud sound of someone blowing their nose.
“Alvie, I’m coming in, you better have all your clothes on.”
“What?” came the tearful reply.
Iker sighed and opened the door. Alvie was sitting on his bed, cuddling Roary (the pink stuffed lion that the defender swore brought him luck) and next to him was a pile of tissues and a half-empty klenex box.
“Alvie, what-” then the full force of Celine Dion hit Iker and the keeper turned to see Jack and Rose on the screen. “Why are you watching this?”
“Shhh!” The Salmantino reached for another tissue. “Their love is so pure!” and promptly burst into tears.
“Alvaro, you can’t watch this if it’s going to make you upset, we’ve got to play tomorrow.” Iker reached to turn the movie off.
“No!” The defender shrieked. “I’ll be fine tomorrow!”
Cesc chose that moment to enter the room.
“What’s going on, guys? Oh! Titanic! Move over, Alvie!”
Iker watched in wonderment as the midfielder settled down next to Alvaro and promptly began to tear up.
“Their love is so pure!” Cesc sniffled.
Iker couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I know!” Alvie wailed, reaching again for the tissues.
Iker decided he could do no more here and backed out of the room to leave the two teary footballers in peace, wondering again how an entire team could be so mental. Honestly, what were the odds?
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
5.
He pulled on his gloves, left then right.
This is it. This is it. This is it.
He shared a little joke and a handshake with the referees
This is it. This is it.
He looked away as David kissed the ball and took his shot.
This is it.
Iker stepped calmly on to the goal line.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
He took a breath.
Oh my god, dios mio, dios mio.
He checked his posts.
Don’t panic. Calm down.
He spread his arms and bent his knees.
Don’t fuck up.
He rose on to his toes in anticipation.
Don’t fuck up.
The refree’s whistle sounded.
Do not fuck up.
The shooter took a step.
This is it.
Heart in his chest, Iker dove.
Pairing: erm... well the only pairing really mentioned is Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Mentions of man sex...
Disclaimer: So unbelievably not true
A/N: I have the shortest attention span of life. for serious. I have a paper due in 2 days and I wrote this instead.
1.
Iker was walking down the hotel hallways, looking for the ice machine when he heard a strange noise. He couldn’t even begin to think of what could have caused it; he couldn’t even identify exactly what “it” sounded like. Iker, being a good captain, didn’t even think before deciding to investigate; if he had thought to look at the room number he most assuredly would have walked as quickly as he could in the other direction, but as it was he didn’t look.
“Hey guys, what was that-”
It wasn’t one of those times where Iker stood frozen in the doorway, staring in horror at the monstrous sight before him, oh no. The door was shut again before the keeper could even register why he had closed it. Then his brain caught up with his reflexes and he shuddered. Since when did hotel ironing board’s balance like that? Was Sergio really wearing-? How did Nando get his leg to-? No, no. Iker did not want to know.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
2.
Iker, once again innocently wandering the halls of their Austrian hotel, caught sight of the edge of something strange disappearing into the stairwell.
“What the?” Iker pushed the door open to see Cesc Fabregas kneeling next to a mattress at the top of the stairs.
“Iker!” Cesc squeaked. “I-erm… I’m…”
The younger man trailed off obviously at a loss for a lie that would explain this bizarre situation. The captain, long used to the Gunner’s antics, just sighed and tried to pull the mattress back into the hallway. Unfortunately Cesc let go at the same moment and the unexpected extra weight and his unsure footing pulled Iker off his feet to land on top of the mattress that was now sliding down the steep stairs at an alarming pace.
“FABREGAS!!” Iker bellowed, his voice echoing in the concrete lined stairwell.
Cesc stood open mouthed and watched helplessly as the mattress slammed into the wall and sent his captain sprawling, rather ungracefully, on to the floor. The young midfielder was torn between running for his life, checking to see if Iker was okay, and whining about the fact that he had wanted to be the first one to ride down the stairs. Luckily for him he chose option one while the keeper was still gathering his wits.
“Fabregas!” Iker bellowed again when he had regained his feet, only to see the door at the top of the stairs swinging shut.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
3.
After recovering from his unfortunate mattress incident and calling the front desk to inform them where the mattress to room 402 could be located he decided he needed a dose of normal. So he headed for Xabi and Carles’s room, figuring he’d ask if they wanted to go for a run or a swim or something.
“Xabi? Carles? I was wondering-”
“Don’t come in here!” There was a panicked almost squeak.
Now Iker had to go in because as far as he knew neither Xabier Alonso nor Carles Puyol made that kind of noise. He entered to see a red faced defender tossing a red stained towel to the side.
“Hey, Iker.” Carles said casually.
“Hey…” then he caught sight of the open lipstick container on the counter and looked from that to Carlos to the towel.
“I’m… I was…”
“Umm…” Iker had no words. “I’ll see you later, Carles.”
“I…right, sure thing, Captain.” Carles said with as much dignity as he could muster.
Iker left the room wishing he didn’t know so much about the Catalan defender and also wondering why the hell La Selección didn’t lock their doors?!
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
4.
Though Iker had vowed to himself that he would let these crazy Spaniards do as they wished and he would no longer interfere/look/investigate anything when he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone crying he wasn’t able to walk away. Iker checked the room number and knocked softly.
“Alvie? …Alvie are you okay?”
There was a sniffle and a teary: “Yes…” then the loud sound of someone blowing their nose.
“Alvie, I’m coming in, you better have all your clothes on.”
“What?” came the tearful reply.
Iker sighed and opened the door. Alvie was sitting on his bed, cuddling Roary (the pink stuffed lion that the defender swore brought him luck) and next to him was a pile of tissues and a half-empty klenex box.
“Alvie, what-” then the full force of Celine Dion hit Iker and the keeper turned to see Jack and Rose on the screen. “Why are you watching this?”
“Shhh!” The Salmantino reached for another tissue. “Their love is so pure!” and promptly burst into tears.
“Alvaro, you can’t watch this if it’s going to make you upset, we’ve got to play tomorrow.” Iker reached to turn the movie off.
“No!” The defender shrieked. “I’ll be fine tomorrow!”
Cesc chose that moment to enter the room.
“What’s going on, guys? Oh! Titanic! Move over, Alvie!”
Iker watched in wonderment as the midfielder settled down next to Alvaro and promptly began to tear up.
“Their love is so pure!” Cesc sniffled.
Iker couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I know!” Alvie wailed, reaching again for the tissues.
Iker decided he could do no more here and backed out of the room to leave the two teary footballers in peace, wondering again how an entire team could be so mental. Honestly, what were the odds?
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
5.
He pulled on his gloves, left then right.
This is it. This is it. This is it.
He shared a little joke and a handshake with the referees
This is it. This is it.
He looked away as David kissed the ball and took his shot.
This is it.
Iker stepped calmly on to the goal line.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
He took a breath.
Oh my god, dios mio, dios mio.
He checked his posts.
Don’t panic. Calm down.
He spread his arms and bent his knees.
Don’t fuck up.
He rose on to his toes in anticipation.
Don’t fuck up.
The refree’s whistle sounded.
Do not fuck up.
The shooter took a step.
This is it.
Heart in his chest, Iker dove.