(no subject)
TITLE: Sweetness Follows
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: A moment after a match...
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Ramos/Torres)
STATUS: Complete - One Shot
PROMPT: #038 (Touch)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
*~*
The metal exterior of the locker was cool against the skin of Sergio’s back as he slid down its length to the floor. Pulling his knees loosely to his chest he lent his head back and closed his eyes wearily. He was vaguely aware of his team mates around him, pulling off their sweaty, grass stained uniforms and trudging off to the showers. The atmosphere in the locker room was depressing as hell; usually they would be laughing, joking and congratulating each other on a good match. There was nothing to celebrate tonight.
Warm hands against his knees broke Sergio from his thoughts and he opened his eyes to see Fernando squatting down in front of him. Fernando was quite possibly the only player in the room who wasn’t covered in mud and grime; he had spent the course of the match on the bench watching every mistake and every missed chance without the luxury of doing anything about it. Sergio wasn’t sure which was worse, watching from afar as everything crashed down around you, or being out on the field making it happen.
“You okay?” Fernando asked quietly.
The material of his training jacket was ridiculously clean; Sergio flicked his eyes over the red material searching for a point of focus, looking everywhere and anywhere except for the brown eyes that searched for his own. His eyes settled ultimately on Fernando’s hands, warm and familiar against his knees. It was ridiculous, but Sergio didn’t want to look at him, after playing the match he just played he didn’t want to look at anyone. What a nightmare.
Fernando’s hands left his knees. It took Sergio a second to realise that he was undoing the laces of his boots for him. His fingers nimbly undid the tight knots and loosened the strings before pulling the boots from his feet.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Fernando began calmly as he pushed the boots aside and eased Sergio’s socks down over his calves. “It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either. Remember that time you scored two goals for the other team just because you kept getting tangled up in the keeper.” Fernando smiled at the memory, a dimple appearing in each cheek.
Sergio stared at him in disbelief, “I was 12 years old.”
“Well it’s good to know that you’re making progress, right? You only scored one goal for the other team tonight.”
“Wow,” Sergio began dryly, “you are really not helping.”
“I’m not trying to. Don’t sit here feeling sorry for yourself, it was a mistake. Everybody was playing badly out there, not just you.” Fernando finished pulling off his socks and ran his hands gently down the length of his calves massaging and working out the stress of the match.
His fingers were reassuring against his skin and Sergio let himself get caught up in the gentle motion of them as they worked over his calves and shins, deftly avoiding the bruise that was developing under his left knee. When he was finished, Fernando brushed a gentle kiss over the bruise before standing and holding out a hand to help Sergio up.
Sergio sighed and took it, letting Fernando pull him to his feet. “Thanks Nando.”
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: A moment after a match...
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Ramos/Torres)
STATUS: Complete - One Shot
PROMPT: #038 (Touch)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
*~*
The metal exterior of the locker was cool against the skin of Sergio’s back as he slid down its length to the floor. Pulling his knees loosely to his chest he lent his head back and closed his eyes wearily. He was vaguely aware of his team mates around him, pulling off their sweaty, grass stained uniforms and trudging off to the showers. The atmosphere in the locker room was depressing as hell; usually they would be laughing, joking and congratulating each other on a good match. There was nothing to celebrate tonight.
Warm hands against his knees broke Sergio from his thoughts and he opened his eyes to see Fernando squatting down in front of him. Fernando was quite possibly the only player in the room who wasn’t covered in mud and grime; he had spent the course of the match on the bench watching every mistake and every missed chance without the luxury of doing anything about it. Sergio wasn’t sure which was worse, watching from afar as everything crashed down around you, or being out on the field making it happen.
“You okay?” Fernando asked quietly.
The material of his training jacket was ridiculously clean; Sergio flicked his eyes over the red material searching for a point of focus, looking everywhere and anywhere except for the brown eyes that searched for his own. His eyes settled ultimately on Fernando’s hands, warm and familiar against his knees. It was ridiculous, but Sergio didn’t want to look at him, after playing the match he just played he didn’t want to look at anyone. What a nightmare.
Fernando’s hands left his knees. It took Sergio a second to realise that he was undoing the laces of his boots for him. His fingers nimbly undid the tight knots and loosened the strings before pulling the boots from his feet.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Fernando began calmly as he pushed the boots aside and eased Sergio’s socks down over his calves. “It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either. Remember that time you scored two goals for the other team just because you kept getting tangled up in the keeper.” Fernando smiled at the memory, a dimple appearing in each cheek.
Sergio stared at him in disbelief, “I was 12 years old.”
“Well it’s good to know that you’re making progress, right? You only scored one goal for the other team tonight.”
“Wow,” Sergio began dryly, “you are really not helping.”
“I’m not trying to. Don’t sit here feeling sorry for yourself, it was a mistake. Everybody was playing badly out there, not just you.” Fernando finished pulling off his socks and ran his hands gently down the length of his calves massaging and working out the stress of the match.
His fingers were reassuring against his skin and Sergio let himself get caught up in the gentle motion of them as they worked over his calves and shins, deftly avoiding the bruise that was developing under his left knee. When he was finished, Fernando brushed a gentle kiss over the bruise before standing and holding out a hand to help Sergio up.
Sergio sighed and took it, letting Fernando pull him to his feet. “Thanks Nando.”