(no subject)
TITLE: Sweet Disposition
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It's a long bus ride home...
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Bojan Krkic/Sergio Canalas)
STATUS: One Shot (1/1)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: This fiction placed first in the ABC challenge at footballverse thanks to everyone who voted.
The bus was quiet. Bojan Krkic slumped down into his seat and closed his eyes, listening to the soft hum of the engine and the soft patter of rain tapping against his window. Opening his eyes, he rested his temple against the window and watched the darkened landscape pass by in a blur of street lights and illuminated business signs. Everything looked slightly surreal, blurred and warped by the rain drops that ran unchecked down the glass.
The sudden silence was broken by the shrill ring of his mobile phone. Cursing lightly under his breath, Bojan dug quickly through his bag, extracted his phone and flipped it open.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
There was no mistaking that voice. Bojan glanced around at his sleeping team mates quickly before sliding down in his seat and lowering his voice, “hi.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, um... I’m just on the bus.”
There was a pause, “seriously? Why is it so quiet? I watched the game, it was boring as hell but hey, a win is a win, right?”
Bojan could hear the crash and rattle of pots and pans in the background. He could almost see Sergio pacing around his kitchen with the phone tucked against his shoulder as he struggled to find something to eat in his pantry. The image had him smiling and sliding even further down into his seat. “Sorry our win was so uneventful for you.”
“Yeah well, it passed the night.” There was a pause and the crashes and clatters stopped. “Hey Bojan?”
“Yeah?”
“Listen, as much as I’d love to pick apart your match against Marseille and brag about how much I’m going to beat your arse at El Classico...”
“Keep talking Canales,” Bojan cut in with a laugh.
Sergio laughed before continuing, “Listen, I’m going to be in Barcelona next week, I was just wondering if you wanted to catch up?”
Bojan tried to ignore his suddenly racing heart, but he was pretty sure that Sergio could hear it all the way from Madrid. “You’re coming to Barcelona?” he finally stuttered out, “why?”
“Well I was thinking I could come and see you, but whatever, I can cancel the trip if you don’t want me to come.”
“No,” Bojan interjected quickly, “no, that’s cool, I want you to come. Do you need a lift from the airport or anything?”
“A lift from the airport,” Sergio agreed before adding innocently, “a tour guide around the city, your couch to crash on...”
Bojan rolled his eyes, “done.”
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It's a long bus ride home...
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Bojan Krkic/Sergio Canalas)
STATUS: One Shot (1/1)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: This fiction placed first in the ABC challenge at footballverse thanks to everyone who voted.
The bus was quiet. Bojan Krkic slumped down into his seat and closed his eyes, listening to the soft hum of the engine and the soft patter of rain tapping against his window. Opening his eyes, he rested his temple against the window and watched the darkened landscape pass by in a blur of street lights and illuminated business signs. Everything looked slightly surreal, blurred and warped by the rain drops that ran unchecked down the glass.
The sudden silence was broken by the shrill ring of his mobile phone. Cursing lightly under his breath, Bojan dug quickly through his bag, extracted his phone and flipped it open.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
There was no mistaking that voice. Bojan glanced around at his sleeping team mates quickly before sliding down in his seat and lowering his voice, “hi.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, um... I’m just on the bus.”
There was a pause, “seriously? Why is it so quiet? I watched the game, it was boring as hell but hey, a win is a win, right?”
Bojan could hear the crash and rattle of pots and pans in the background. He could almost see Sergio pacing around his kitchen with the phone tucked against his shoulder as he struggled to find something to eat in his pantry. The image had him smiling and sliding even further down into his seat. “Sorry our win was so uneventful for you.”
“Yeah well, it passed the night.” There was a pause and the crashes and clatters stopped. “Hey Bojan?”
“Yeah?”
“Listen, as much as I’d love to pick apart your match against Marseille and brag about how much I’m going to beat your arse at El Classico...”
“Keep talking Canales,” Bojan cut in with a laugh.
Sergio laughed before continuing, “Listen, I’m going to be in Barcelona next week, I was just wondering if you wanted to catch up?”
Bojan tried to ignore his suddenly racing heart, but he was pretty sure that Sergio could hear it all the way from Madrid. “You’re coming to Barcelona?” he finally stuttered out, “why?”
“Well I was thinking I could come and see you, but whatever, I can cancel the trip if you don’t want me to come.”
“No,” Bojan interjected quickly, “no, that’s cool, I want you to come. Do you need a lift from the airport or anything?”
“A lift from the airport,” Sergio agreed before adding innocently, “a tour guide around the city, your couch to crash on...”
Bojan rolled his eyes, “done.”