to go home. (sergio ramos/fernando torres)
Title: To go home.
Pairing: Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG-13 (for strong language)
Wordcount: 1509 ... (watch me being very serious about this)
A/N: It's a celebration, good people of lj. I don't think there's anything else I could say. This is weird, there's not much plot to begin with and to be perfectly honest, I meant to write something with even less plot, but okay. When the muse comes aknocking first thing in the morning, you sit yourself down and write. It is known.
Set ... this morning, haha. So we're in Dubai, RM and AC are both prepping for their game this afternoon, nonetheless this is of course no history book but fiction, you know the drill, good people of lj...
To go home.
The knock on the door resounded in the quiet of the room and made it sound even more purposeful than it already did. Curiously enough, it seemed to bounce off the illustrious hotel room walls, the no doubt expensive interior, the thick and comfortable bedding, and even the luxurious softness of Fernando’s skin right after coming out of sleep. Sergio knew who was on the other side of the door with the first sound of knuckles rasping against wood.
“Oh god, is it that late?”
Even when sleepy, Fernando’s eyes were still able to widen to a comic size in an instant, but when Sergio just shook his head and pressed his lips to the top of a warm glimpse of collarbone sticking out from under the covers, the worry passed over Fernando’s features and was gone just as swiftly as it had come. Sergio, meanwhile, savoured the smell and the taste, the even softness, of Fernando’s skin, everything that had captured him for hours and hours last night and only seemed to intensify at the back of his tongue now, so much that he almost forgot about the-
There was another knock at the door.
“No, it’s not late,” Sergio sighed, reluctantly rolling out of bed, stepping over a pair of jeans lying on the floor (His own? Fernando’s? Did it even matter now?), before deciding to put them on after all, if only for politeness’ sake. “He’s just early, that’s all.”
“He?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sergio caught Fernando scrambling for his underwear, definitely awake now and rapidly shaking off the morning laziness he had been revelling in for some time before that. Sergio rolled his eyes only because he knew Fernando couldn’t see it and made his way around a corner of the room over to the hotel room door.
“Relax, will you? … It’s just Iker. … Morning, Iker!”
Opening the door enough for him to get into view, Sergio indeed found himself face to face with Iker. The other man was already in his training suit and looked clean-shaven, well-rested and ready to take on another day full of trials and tribulations. Sergio would put that to the test at once.
“Good morning. Just making the rounds, checking in to see that everyone’s up and ready for today... You might also want to check your phone, Sergio. I reckon there’s something that might interest-”
Iker stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze seemingly landing on something just over Sergio’s shoulder. His captain must have gotten a very good night’s sleep, the hotel beds being as comfortable as they were expensive, yet Sergio could see all the relaxation and calmness melting away from Iker’s face instantaneously.
“What. The fuck.”
Before Sergio could say anything else, Iker had pushed the door wide open and had stepped into the room. As he bent down to pick up Fernando’s sweater that had been thrown haphazardly on the floor, Sergio clicked the door shut behind them.
“Look, Iker…”
“Don’t. Sergio Ramos, don’t tell me-,” Iker had rounded the corner of the entrance area and stopped again. Sergio came up behind him just in time to see Fernando, wearing a shirt and jeans now, smoothing over his hair and the covers in an attempt to make it all look more respectable and less dishevelled.
“Uhm, Iker. Hi! Fancy, err … seeing you here.”
There was a moment of silence during which Iker looked at Fernando, blankly, before turning back to scrutinize Sergio with the same stare. Fernando opened his mouth to say something else, but Iker, without turning around to look at him, just help up a hand, beckoning him to be quiet.
“You…,” Iker whispered, “that’s Sergio’s shirt you’re wearing.”
“Oh. … Right. … Of course.”
Still attempting to make it look as casual as possible, Fernando pulled the shirt over his head and looked around the spacious room.
“Uh…”
“Just keep it,” Sergio offered, nodding to the shirt Fernando had just shimmied out of, and winked when Fernando raised his eyebrows sceptically, “It looks good on you. … You can give it back to me next time we-“
Sergio was cut short when Iker unexpectedly jammed a finger into his chest, reminding both of them of his presence in the room. His tone was clearly marked by exasperation and the wrinkles around his eyes were on full, troubled display.
”No. No. No. Nonononono. No.”
Sergio braced himself for the inevitable Iker-meltdown that was surely about to follow.
“Just no. … Sit down, Ramos. You too, Fernando. And now … You listen to me, you little shits. Listen to me. This is not happening again.”
“Iker…”
“No. Absolutely not! … Stop laughing at me, Sergio Ramos, it’s not funny!”
“Will you please…”
“…Crawling out of bed together on the morning of the most important match of the season-“
“It’s a friendly,” Fernando quietly chimed in, but Iker only had to look at him once to shut him up.
Clearly it had been a while since those two had seen each other. It seemed as if Fernando had lost all practice of how to deal with Iker when he was throwing a tantrum. Just another thing Sergio had to add to his mental list of things that desperately needed catching up now that Fernando was moving back into town. Iker meanwhile took no notice of the interruption.
“-so that I have to come over and drag you both out of bed, get you into separate cars and then send you off to your respective training grounds and make sure nobody catches a whiff of it all-“
“Keep yelling like this and you can spare yourself the effort because everyone will know anyway, Iker.”
“I have a family of my own to look after now, I just cannot afford to do the same for you horny young men…”
“No one’s asking you, Iker, relax.”
“No! You two! We’ve been there before! … And this is not,” Iker jabbed his finger into Fernando’s direction energetically, who promptly dropped the socks he’d been trying to put on with as little movement as possible, “this is not happening again.”
“Yes, Iker, thank you,” Sergio shook his head, placing his hand on his hips. In hindsight, putting on trousers had been a mistake after all. Iker would have never been able to finish his speech confronted with Sergio wearing nothing but the partly-annoyed partly-fond expression on his face and a tell-tale afterglow coating his skin. “Anything else?”
They both watched Iker set his jaw, Fernando fully dressed by now, and felt the way he fixed his gaze first on Sergio, then on Fernando, then on the two of them, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
“This is just not happening again. … And if you’re late for breakfast, or training, or the match, or the flight, or the next derby, or the training for said derby, or anything like that, Sergio, and I catch you with that same smug look on your face, I’m going to scratch your Player of the Tournament trophy and make it look like an accident. ”
Without another word, Iker stormed out of the room. Sergio really did not envy whoever was next on his round. He just hoped that whoever it was was wide awake and perfectly on his own.
“So, that went well…”
The tension seeped out of Fernando’s body gradually, with every breath he took after Iker had let the door fall shut behind him.
“Don’t take it too seriously, yeah? Besides, did you see the way he looked at you? He was happy to see you too.”
“I know,” Fernando leaned over to give Sergio a kiss before getting up and crossing the room. “I know. But let’s not do that again anytime soon, okay? … The getting-caught-red-handed-by-your-captain bit. Not the … other bit. We can do that again very soon, if you like.”
“He’s your captain too, you know?”
Fernando gave him a smile for that and Sergio felt like pulling him back into the sheets right away just for that. He tried to stay in the moment and not to try to remember when the last time he had seen Fernando smile like that had been.
“I’ve got to go. I still need to pack and there’s not that much time left.”
“What, now? You have to pack? … You …you’re not playing tonight?” Sergio asked incredulously.
Fernando was looking out the window, where the sun was already shining too bright for this time of day. His voice was very calm and steady when he said it, but Sergio knew about the strong undercurrent of emotion from years of experience. It was also in the way he turned around, his shoulders curved out strong, the smile on his lips, the shimmer in his eyes, the relaxed calm of his face. The whole feeling seemed to weave through Fernando’s body language when he reached out for Sergio’s hand.
“No. My plane leaves at noon. … I’m … I’m going home.”
Pairing: Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG-13 (for strong language)
Wordcount: 1509 ... (watch me being very serious about this)
A/N: It's a celebration, good people of lj. I don't think there's anything else I could say. This is weird, there's not much plot to begin with and to be perfectly honest, I meant to write something with even less plot, but okay. When the muse comes aknocking first thing in the morning, you sit yourself down and write. It is known.
Set ... this morning, haha. So we're in Dubai, RM and AC are both prepping for their game this afternoon, nonetheless this is of course no history book but fiction, you know the drill, good people of lj...
To go home.
The knock on the door resounded in the quiet of the room and made it sound even more purposeful than it already did. Curiously enough, it seemed to bounce off the illustrious hotel room walls, the no doubt expensive interior, the thick and comfortable bedding, and even the luxurious softness of Fernando’s skin right after coming out of sleep. Sergio knew who was on the other side of the door with the first sound of knuckles rasping against wood.
“Oh god, is it that late?”
Even when sleepy, Fernando’s eyes were still able to widen to a comic size in an instant, but when Sergio just shook his head and pressed his lips to the top of a warm glimpse of collarbone sticking out from under the covers, the worry passed over Fernando’s features and was gone just as swiftly as it had come. Sergio, meanwhile, savoured the smell and the taste, the even softness, of Fernando’s skin, everything that had captured him for hours and hours last night and only seemed to intensify at the back of his tongue now, so much that he almost forgot about the-
There was another knock at the door.
“No, it’s not late,” Sergio sighed, reluctantly rolling out of bed, stepping over a pair of jeans lying on the floor (His own? Fernando’s? Did it even matter now?), before deciding to put them on after all, if only for politeness’ sake. “He’s just early, that’s all.”
“He?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sergio caught Fernando scrambling for his underwear, definitely awake now and rapidly shaking off the morning laziness he had been revelling in for some time before that. Sergio rolled his eyes only because he knew Fernando couldn’t see it and made his way around a corner of the room over to the hotel room door.
“Relax, will you? … It’s just Iker. … Morning, Iker!”
Opening the door enough for him to get into view, Sergio indeed found himself face to face with Iker. The other man was already in his training suit and looked clean-shaven, well-rested and ready to take on another day full of trials and tribulations. Sergio would put that to the test at once.
“Good morning. Just making the rounds, checking in to see that everyone’s up and ready for today... You might also want to check your phone, Sergio. I reckon there’s something that might interest-”
Iker stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze seemingly landing on something just over Sergio’s shoulder. His captain must have gotten a very good night’s sleep, the hotel beds being as comfortable as they were expensive, yet Sergio could see all the relaxation and calmness melting away from Iker’s face instantaneously.
“What. The fuck.”
Before Sergio could say anything else, Iker had pushed the door wide open and had stepped into the room. As he bent down to pick up Fernando’s sweater that had been thrown haphazardly on the floor, Sergio clicked the door shut behind them.
“Look, Iker…”
“Don’t. Sergio Ramos, don’t tell me-,” Iker had rounded the corner of the entrance area and stopped again. Sergio came up behind him just in time to see Fernando, wearing a shirt and jeans now, smoothing over his hair and the covers in an attempt to make it all look more respectable and less dishevelled.
“Uhm, Iker. Hi! Fancy, err … seeing you here.”
There was a moment of silence during which Iker looked at Fernando, blankly, before turning back to scrutinize Sergio with the same stare. Fernando opened his mouth to say something else, but Iker, without turning around to look at him, just help up a hand, beckoning him to be quiet.
“You…,” Iker whispered, “that’s Sergio’s shirt you’re wearing.”
“Oh. … Right. … Of course.”
Still attempting to make it look as casual as possible, Fernando pulled the shirt over his head and looked around the spacious room.
“Uh…”
“Just keep it,” Sergio offered, nodding to the shirt Fernando had just shimmied out of, and winked when Fernando raised his eyebrows sceptically, “It looks good on you. … You can give it back to me next time we-“
Sergio was cut short when Iker unexpectedly jammed a finger into his chest, reminding both of them of his presence in the room. His tone was clearly marked by exasperation and the wrinkles around his eyes were on full, troubled display.
”No. No. No. Nonononono. No.”
Sergio braced himself for the inevitable Iker-meltdown that was surely about to follow.
“Just no. … Sit down, Ramos. You too, Fernando. And now … You listen to me, you little shits. Listen to me. This is not happening again.”
“Iker…”
“No. Absolutely not! … Stop laughing at me, Sergio Ramos, it’s not funny!”
“Will you please…”
“…Crawling out of bed together on the morning of the most important match of the season-“
“It’s a friendly,” Fernando quietly chimed in, but Iker only had to look at him once to shut him up.
Clearly it had been a while since those two had seen each other. It seemed as if Fernando had lost all practice of how to deal with Iker when he was throwing a tantrum. Just another thing Sergio had to add to his mental list of things that desperately needed catching up now that Fernando was moving back into town. Iker meanwhile took no notice of the interruption.
“-so that I have to come over and drag you both out of bed, get you into separate cars and then send you off to your respective training grounds and make sure nobody catches a whiff of it all-“
“Keep yelling like this and you can spare yourself the effort because everyone will know anyway, Iker.”
“I have a family of my own to look after now, I just cannot afford to do the same for you horny young men…”
“No one’s asking you, Iker, relax.”
“No! You two! We’ve been there before! … And this is not,” Iker jabbed his finger into Fernando’s direction energetically, who promptly dropped the socks he’d been trying to put on with as little movement as possible, “this is not happening again.”
“Yes, Iker, thank you,” Sergio shook his head, placing his hand on his hips. In hindsight, putting on trousers had been a mistake after all. Iker would have never been able to finish his speech confronted with Sergio wearing nothing but the partly-annoyed partly-fond expression on his face and a tell-tale afterglow coating his skin. “Anything else?”
They both watched Iker set his jaw, Fernando fully dressed by now, and felt the way he fixed his gaze first on Sergio, then on Fernando, then on the two of them, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
“This is just not happening again. … And if you’re late for breakfast, or training, or the match, or the flight, or the next derby, or the training for said derby, or anything like that, Sergio, and I catch you with that same smug look on your face, I’m going to scratch your Player of the Tournament trophy and make it look like an accident. ”
Without another word, Iker stormed out of the room. Sergio really did not envy whoever was next on his round. He just hoped that whoever it was was wide awake and perfectly on his own.
“So, that went well…”
The tension seeped out of Fernando’s body gradually, with every breath he took after Iker had let the door fall shut behind him.
“Don’t take it too seriously, yeah? Besides, did you see the way he looked at you? He was happy to see you too.”
“I know,” Fernando leaned over to give Sergio a kiss before getting up and crossing the room. “I know. But let’s not do that again anytime soon, okay? … The getting-caught-red-handed-by-your-captain bit. Not the … other bit. We can do that again very soon, if you like.”
“He’s your captain too, you know?”
Fernando gave him a smile for that and Sergio felt like pulling him back into the sheets right away just for that. He tried to stay in the moment and not to try to remember when the last time he had seen Fernando smile like that had been.
“I’ve got to go. I still need to pack and there’s not that much time left.”
“What, now? You have to pack? … You …you’re not playing tonight?” Sergio asked incredulously.
Fernando was looking out the window, where the sun was already shining too bright for this time of day. His voice was very calm and steady when he said it, but Sergio knew about the strong undercurrent of emotion from years of experience. It was also in the way he turned around, his shoulders curved out strong, the smile on his lips, the shimmer in his eyes, the relaxed calm of his face. The whole feeling seemed to weave through Fernando’s body language when he reached out for Sergio’s hand.
“No. My plane leaves at noon. … I’m … I’m going home.”