(no subject)
Title: “Imagine...”
Language: English.
Sequence: 16/17
Rating: PG
Word count: 687
Pairings: Cristiano Ronaldo/Wayne Rooney
Disclaimer: Not true.
Chapters: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV.
Author notes: This is mostly for nevermind68 ,
karneol_vision and
crystal_style . And for you, Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro, you piece of shit. Let's say this is one of my last fics. About this pair, at least.
PS: F*ck my grammar and all my mistakes.
Night envelops them as they forget about it, walking hand in hand and sitting down the highest step of the porch, illuminated by the huge but weak full moon.
Wayne inspects Cris' hand strongly linked to his own: they're still so soft, a little bit bony; he runs his eyes over the Portuguese's arm until meet his face with the other's man which isn't as far as he thought and seems to not be marked by the pass of the years; his cinnamon coloured eyes are constantly shinning, glassy, while his adorable smile gives expression to the happiness fervently lying inside his chest. His hair style never goes out of fashion, it's tidily straightened to one side, as impeccable as his clothing with determined and fashionable characteristics. His long legs are bent against his trunk.
Suddenly, those lips are finely against the British's nearest cheek and a chill goes through his flesh skin made of marble. "Don't try to find a single mistake on him: you won't find any."
"I heard you had a child."
"Oh, yes, Junior.He's almost six years old."
Wayne replies kind of surprised because of his shown interest.
"He must be adorable... I'd like to meet him one of these days."
"Of course, Ronnie", Wazza murmurs as he sticks his blue glance to his chest, attracting attention to Cristiano who raises his face with a finger under his chin to make the English man look up at his eyes once again, feigning suspect and making Wayne shyly smile and blush.
"Spit it out, Wazza."
Cristiano insists, caressing his cheek.
"I've missed you as hell. Why the fuck did you leave?"
He grips his hand so strong that he hurts the Latin but he doesn't emit any sound at all.
"Haha, well, I didn't give up football, as you know. I err... kind of did everything to make my mom happy before err... you know. But I also had to help my sisters with the shopping", the brunet nervously stammers.
"How's Dolores?"
"Better now. Loving my father once again."
He lets out with no more ado, swallowing hard and trying to hold back his tears.
Wayne notices how Ron's hand diminish strength but he squeezes him once again, without any word coming out from his vocal chords.
"It happened some years ago, Wazza. Don't feel guilty, please. It'd take more and more years before I get over it... maybe 'til my death."
He leans over him once again and touches lightly his chin.
"You know I know everything about your life the last years, my dear. I can say you're not okay..."
Ronnie whispers, very confidential, while stealthily standing up from his place and sliding both hands thought the British's sides, making him fall over but delicately protecting his head and back with both hands. He rests one of his knees on the floor so he can be at the same level where Wazza is, close to his relaxed face, looking directly into his eyes, as cold as ice.
"Why now , Cristiano? Why do you appear like a ghost in front of me? Why are you teasing me?"
He slowly and sweetly murmurs, taking Cris by the base of his neck and caressing in circles his tanned skin, without losing sight of those passionate wooden eyes.
"You know, Wayne? Table games are cruel, timeless and cold but full of passion, intelligence and devotion: I'm talking about life."
"You're a man who has sacrificed everything you own to make happy the ones who are around you and love you... or even the ones who hate you."
"And all I've learned is that patience is the key. Every seed you plant and water with your sweat and blood every day, becomes a tree."
"That's a fact. We're together."
Wayne dares to laugh just a little.
"You k now what's also a fact?"
Ronnie smoothly shows his perfect teeth, near Wayne, watching him very fascinated.
"What?"
Out of the blue, their smiles are erased, leaving their faces expressionless but motivated, face-to-face.
"Wazza, I still can feel butterflies in my stomach when I'm with you."
Language: English.
Sequence: 16/17
Rating: PG
Word count: 687
Pairings: Cristiano Ronaldo/Wayne Rooney
Disclaimer: Not true.
Chapters: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV.
Author notes: This is mostly for nevermind68 ,
karneol_vision and
crystal_style . And for you, Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro, you piece of shit. Let's say this is one of my last fics. About this pair, at least.
PS: F*ck my grammar and all my mistakes.
Night envelops them as they forget about it, walking hand in hand and sitting down the highest step of the porch, illuminated by the huge but weak full moon.
Wayne inspects Cris' hand strongly linked to his own: they're still so soft, a little bit bony; he runs his eyes over the Portuguese's arm until meet his face with the other's man which isn't as far as he thought and seems to not be marked by the pass of the years; his cinnamon coloured eyes are constantly shinning, glassy, while his adorable smile gives expression to the happiness fervently lying inside his chest. His hair style never goes out of fashion, it's tidily straightened to one side, as impeccable as his clothing with determined and fashionable characteristics. His long legs are bent against his trunk.
Suddenly, those lips are finely against the British's nearest cheek and a chill goes through his flesh skin made of marble. "Don't try to find a single mistake on him: you won't find any."
"I heard you had a child."
"Oh, yes, Junior.He's almost six years old."
Wayne replies kind of surprised because of his shown interest.
"He must be adorable... I'd like to meet him one of these days."
"Of course, Ronnie", Wazza murmurs as he sticks his blue glance to his chest, attracting attention to Cristiano who raises his face with a finger under his chin to make the English man look up at his eyes once again, feigning suspect and making Wayne shyly smile and blush.
"Spit it out, Wazza."
Cristiano insists, caressing his cheek.
"I've missed you as hell. Why the fuck did you leave?"
He grips his hand so strong that he hurts the Latin but he doesn't emit any sound at all.
"Haha, well, I didn't give up football, as you know. I err... kind of did everything to make my mom happy before err... you know. But I also had to help my sisters with the shopping", the brunet nervously stammers.
"How's Dolores?"
"Better now. Loving my father once again."
He lets out with no more ado, swallowing hard and trying to hold back his tears.
Wayne notices how Ron's hand diminish strength but he squeezes him once again, without any word coming out from his vocal chords.
"It happened some years ago, Wazza. Don't feel guilty, please. It'd take more and more years before I get over it... maybe 'til my death."
He leans over him once again and touches lightly his chin.
"You know I know everything about your life the last years, my dear. I can say you're not okay..."
Ronnie whispers, very confidential, while stealthily standing up from his place and sliding both hands thought the British's sides, making him fall over but delicately protecting his head and back with both hands. He rests one of his knees on the floor so he can be at the same level where Wazza is, close to his relaxed face, looking directly into his eyes, as cold as ice.
"Why now , Cristiano? Why do you appear like a ghost in front of me? Why are you teasing me?"
He slowly and sweetly murmurs, taking Cris by the base of his neck and caressing in circles his tanned skin, without losing sight of those passionate wooden eyes.
"You know, Wayne? Table games are cruel, timeless and cold but full of passion, intelligence and devotion: I'm talking about life."
"You're a man who has sacrificed everything you own to make happy the ones who are around you and love you... or even the ones who hate you."
"And all I've learned is that patience is the key. Every seed you plant and water with your sweat and blood every day, becomes a tree."
"That's a fact. We're together."
Wayne dares to laugh just a little.
"You k now what's also a fact?"
Ronnie smoothly shows his perfect teeth, near Wayne, watching him very fascinated.
"What?"
Out of the blue, their smiles are erased, leaving their faces expressionless but motivated, face-to-face.
"Wazza, I still can feel butterflies in my stomach when I'm with you."