Fic: Empezar
Title: Empezar
Pairing: David Villa/Lionel Messi
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,300
Disclaimer: Nothing written here is true at all.
Summary: Sort of written for this prompt at footballkink2. In imperfect circumstances and a tough week for David, Leo and David begin.
How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill?
A kiss, and all was said.
--Victor Hugo
*
"Pass it, pass it," Leo was shouting at him. The ball had gone out of play and they were walking back to their positions on the field.
"I did pass the ball," David replied, heatedly. "I passed it and you didn't get it."
"Next time pass it to me," Leo said, and David had to clench his teeth to keep from yelling back. The game had been utterly frustrating so far, and he hadn't been able to score or help the team, and fuck all of this. He did not need to be yelled at by his teammate (and friend, for god's sake) on top of everything else.
*
Just before the next game against Levante, he lands oddly on his left foot and for a heartbeat panic flashes through him, and pain briefly through his ankle. But the pain is dull and it retreats quickly. They tell him it's not bad at all, he should just rest up. Miss the game.
So all in all, David thought, as he dragged himself to the first training after the (very successful - but no thanks to him) Levante game, it had been a pretty awful few days.
*
David doesn't communicate with most of his teammates in much more than grunts and nods during training. (Some of them won't take the shit, though; he talks normally with Xavi. He always talks normally with Xavi.) Cesc looks nervous in front of this version of David and spends most of the time scampering away from the vicinity whenever David came near.
Leo wasn't avoiding David that much. He was feeling badly about losing his temper and shouting at David during the game; and he hadn't even been able to make it up to David in the game against Levante. Though how, he considered, would he even make it up? (By not yelling? That seemed hardly sufficient.)
Despite the vague people-free zone (radius est. 2 metres) created around David due to everyone giving him a wide berth in efforts to avoid his glare, Leo jogs over to him when Tito calls a break. Cesc gives Leo a wide-eyed look of fearful warning. Geri grins.
"David," Leo says, falling into step beside the Asturian and looking up slightly at his face. "Hey, man...I'm sorry."
David ignores him and Leo can hear Geri chortling faintly in the background. He chooses to ignore that.
"Guaje," he says again, more forcefully this time. "Guaje, come on, snap out of it."
David stops dead still and turns to just stare at him. Leo stares back, mouth slightly open, caught by surprise. He hadn't just stayed still and stared at David before, he thinks absently to himself. There was no doubting it, David Villa was still just as attractive to Leo as he had been when he first joined the team. Those brown eyes, just as absorbing whether they were soft, or fierce like they were now, the perfect sideburns, even the way he gelled his hair; the set of his mouth, his jaw.
Without a word, David continues toward the changing room. Leo just turns his head dumbly to follow his movement for a metre or so before starting, catching up with him again and grabbing his elbow.
"Please...let me make it up to you?"
The darker haired striker breathes out shortly through his nose and shakes his head. His mouth pulls impatiently to the side and he's about to turn away again, but Leo grips his elbow more firmly. Digs his heels in, figuratively (and maybe a little literally, because they were still on the pitch in cleats, after all).
"I'm not asking," Leo says, decidedly. "I'm not asking. I will make it up to you."
"Uff," David gives him. It's not much, but it's a word, sort of.
"Just stay after training a little bit, ok? So we can do something." Leo looks over pleadingly, hoping for some relenting on David's part. They'd been such fast friends after David came; Leo just wanted to be close again. He was sure David wanted it too, but things had been moving badly in recent weeks.
*
David does stay after training. Leo comes out of the shower toweling his hair and smiles at the sight of David, sitting on the changing room bench in a grey shirt and track pants.
"Thank you," he tells David, appreciatively; David rolls his eyes, locks the screen of his iphone and looks at him impatiently.
"What do you want?" David asks, eyeing Leo as he dries off.
"I told you," Leo says. "I want to make it up to you. Make you feel better, I guess. Because I'm sorry I shouted during that game, and I've missed playing with you, even just last game when you couldn't." He shrugs, even though his heart is beating a little harder at admitting everything outright like that, finally. "I just want us to be, you know? Good again."
David sighs.
It's the kind of sigh that tells more than words could, that tells feelings, because Leo understands then that David is relenting. He feels himself beaming at David, who can't help but return a smile.
"This is," David says, gesturing. "It's not your fault, you know." He pauses. "Not all your fault."
"Yeah?" Leo grins. He pulls on his boxers and shirt and goes over to David. "Whatever part is my fault, then, consider that what I'm making up for."
He sits down beside David, putting a hand on top of David's thigh. David doesn't say a word, his eyes unreadable when he looks up to meet Leo's. Leo doesn't say anything, because what could he say, apart from--? Not much, or at least he for one wasn't capable of wording it. He slips his hand to David's knee. At some point both of them had begun to breathe more deeply. Leo glances quickly back up at David's eyes for reassurance.
"Well?" Leo says, unintentionally making it a question. He shakes his head, tries another time. "What do you want me to do?"
An unwilling, faintly bemused smile curls across David's lips. "No," he says, eventually, the smile breaking wider. "No, Leo...don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not," Leo says, but he's smiling too; he runs his hand along David's leg, stroking the muscle there. "I'm..." he realises, then, where he'd gone a little wrong.
He leans in instead, bracing himself on the edge of the bench, and kisses David--on the lips, lightly, once.
Two years of playing together, months of unspoken feelings and uncertainty, a week of irritation, and put simply, he, Leo, loved David Villa.
David kisses him back just when Leo finishes that thought, presses their mouths together hungrily, his hand fumbling for Leo's shirt and using it to pull Leo up against him. Leo climbs up, clumsy somehow, their legs tangling as he braces his hands on the wall. David takes advantage of his position to push Leo's shirt up, press his lips to the skin of Leo's chest and stomach, mouth open, breath hot. Leo gasps, the feelings intense. They were doing this, finally. And where else, he thinks, briefly, would be more apt?
It comes to him then where exactly they were and he pulls back to stand up, panting, taking in David's look of hazy desire.
"Can't do it here," Leo murmurs, not exactly sure what he was saying but sure David could get the gist of it. "Your place or--" and he stops to chuckle at the phrase, until David thumbs (with a tantalising, slow gentleness) at his lower lip, and with a look that sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and puts humour quite out of his mind.
"Mine," David says. He stands, comes close to kiss Leo again, backing them until he has Leo pinned to the wall.