(no subject)
title: in defense of silence
pairing: leo messi/david villa
rating: nc17
words: 2250
summary: messi has said he doesn't talk for awhile after big losses. that must be annoying.
When the final whistle blows at the Mestalla, David’s first thought is, no. He thinks, if there was one more minute. He thinks, this isn’t how my first cup game is supposed to end. Not here.
To say he thinks about Leo at all in those first few minutes would be a lie, but then he looks and sees the younger man sitting on the ground not five feet away from him, staring at nothing. Just staring. David doesn’t say anything to him, doesn’t know what to say. Just watches him stare, waits for him to blink.
Later, in the locker room, Leo still has that same look in his eyes and when David approaches him he doesn’t even glance over.
“Leo,” David says. Nothing. “Leo.” Louder. Nothing. “Leo!” But Leo doesn’t move at all, stares and stares and David wonders what he sees.
David pokes him in the side and he flinches, just slightly, slides his gaze over to David. David can tell just from the look in his eyes that Leo didn’t even know he was there, didn’t hear him at all, and he thinks, not again.
On the bus between the airport and Camp Nou it’s dark and quiet but David can’t sleep. He sits next to Leo who still hasn’t said a word. He’d let Leo have the window seat, and Leo had immediately pressed his forehead against it and not moved.
It’s been dead quiet but suddenly David hears a snicker from the back of the bus. “Oh my god,” someone says. “Ramos dropped the trophy off the bus and they ran over it. They ran over the goddamn king’s cup.”
There are snickers and then another voice says, “He didn’t drop it, it killed itself when it realized where it was.” Despite himself, David feels his lip quirk.
“Guys…” someone says, his voice a warning even while tinged with laughter. Puyol.
But when David turns toward Leo, there’s nothing, no sign he’s heard any of it. The only way David can tell he’s awake is the slow blink of his eyes.
When they get back to Camp Nou David realizes he drove over with Leo, and he sighs. He hadn’t thought about it, really, when they’d come over together; he’d thought they’d be returning smiling, laughing, sick with champagne, that they’d stay out all night dancing in the streets with the cules. Instead he’s here in the quiet with just Leo’s blank face and a second place medal weighing down his bag.
He catches up to Xavi. “I don’t suppose you’d want to take him home,” he mutters, low enough that Leo won’t hear, not that he’s paying attention anyway.
Xavi glances over at Leo and then shakes his head at David. “Not a chance.”
“I’ll owe you forever.”
“You already owe me forever.”
David hits him on the back of the head and says goodnight. He reluctantly walks over to his own car, throwing his bag in the back and waiting for Leo, trailing behind him, to catch up.
David doesn’t even try to talk to Leo in the car. He turns the radio on, softly, just so it’s not completely quiet, and Leo turns his head towards the window, doesn’t make a sound. When they get to David’s, David expects Leo to get his car and go home. Instead, he grabs his bag and follows David inside, and David doesn’t have the energy or the will to ask why or say no.
Leo immediately disappears in the direction of the bedroom. David goes in the kitchen, drinks water, checks his email before he follows.
It’s almost 5 a.m. before he turns the light off and sinks into bed next to Leo.
“Goodnight,” he says. He hears Leo breathing.
“I’m upset too, you know,” he says. He’s on his back, looking at the ceiling. Leo’s on his side, facing away from David, but David thinks he’s awake even though he can’t see.
Nothing. David turns on his side too, away from Leo. “You’re being selfish,” he says, knowing he’s being petulant, but so is Leo.
Leo shifts a little, and his foot slides against David’s calf. Then nothing. David sighs, closes his eyes.
They have the next day off and when David wakes up Leo’s side of the bed is empty. He looks at the clock and sees they just went to sleep 5 hours ago, but he gets up anyway, his stomach rumbling.
Leo’s on the couch watching TV. David gets a banana and starts the coffee maker before he walks in the living room to see what he’s watching; it’s a sports show, and it’s showing highlights from the game the day before.
“Do we really need to watch this right now?” David asks. The sun from the windows is already giving him a headache. Leo doesn’t respond.
“What else is on today?” he asks, standing over the back of the couch and looking down at Leo. Leo doesn’t look up at him, but hands him the remote, and David's glad at least he’s being acknowledged now. Then he thinks that’s probably a terrible thing to be relieved about.
He decides sitting in silence with Leo is not how he wants to spend his day off, and he takes his coffee to the porch to read the paper in his own quiet. He does laundry. He calls Xavi three times before he picks up just long enough to tell David he’s sleeping and not to call again unless he’s near death and no one else can help him. (David tells him that the silent setting on his phone will help him not be bothered without alienating loved ones. Xavi tells him to fuck off.)
David washes dishes. He calls his mom and regrets it when she starts ranting about how dirty or not dirty his sister’s house is. He naps.
Eventually he wanders back into the living room. Leo’s watching a rerun of the north London derby.
“It ends in a tie,” David huffs, flopping on the couch next to Leo. Leo looks over at him, blinks slowly, and then looks back at the TV.
“Oh my god,” David says.
The sun starts to set and David’s stomach grumbles loudly.
“I’m hungry,” he says needlessly, just to fill the quiet.
Leo, shockingly, says nothing.
“Come on,” David whines, “It’s been almost a day. Isn’t that how long you don’t talk for? A day?”
When he doesn’t respond, David twists so his legs are up on the couch next to Leo and starts poking his toes into Leo’s thigh, slowly and then getting faster. “Leo.” Poke. “Leo.” Poke. “Leo.” Poke. “Leo. Leo. Leo. Leo. Leo,” pushing his toes into Leo’s leg quickly.
Leo sighs but doesn't look over. He closes a hand over David’s foot, stilling it.
Leo’s hand is warm and it does calm David down for a minute, but then he remembers how annoyed he is and gets off the couch with a huff. He goes in the kitchen and grabs a takeout menu. He thinks, for a moment- a long moment- about asking Leo what he wants and then not getting him anything when Leo inevitably won’t answer, but then he remembers that he is, in most ways, a real adult, so he orders Leo the kung pao chicken he knows Leo would have asked for, if Leo were currently asking for anything.
When David gets back with the food and hands Leo his carton, he thinks- he’s almost sure- he sees a tiny smile of gratitude on Leo’s face, but maybe he’s just trying to convince himself that Leo is still actually a functioning human being. David’s still annoyed so he grabs the remote and turns off the TV, telling Leo, “If you want to be silent, then sit in silence.” He can’t even tell if Leo notices.
After awhile he says, “This reminds me of when I was little and I’d piss off one of my sisters and she wouldn’t talk to me for a week.” He picks at his own chicken, laughs a little at the memory. “Once I broke her favorite doll and she made it almost a month before she forgot and accidentally talked to me. I think it annoyed my parents more than me, honestly.”
He glances up at Leo, who’s looking at him and half smiles when David meets his gaze, like he wants him to continue. So David does, long after they’ve finished their meals, after the sun’s disappearance has sunk the room into darkness and he can’t see Leo’s face anymore. They sink back into the couch cushions and David talks about his family and his childhood, about the house he grew up in and the way Asturias smells and the way it felt to leave those things.
Leo never says a word, but David knows he's listening.
At practice the next morning they wander out to the pitch together, and Pep tells them good morning.
“Morning, coach,” David says, and he stretches his arms out. When Pep looks at Leo, David informs him, “He’s not talking yet.”
Pep glances at him and then back at Leo. “Morning, Leo,” he says, somewhat more forcefully.
“Morning, coach,” the voice comes from beside David, and David turns to gape at the younger man.
Pep pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have the power to bench him.”
David glares.
David’s not even surprised when practice ends and Leo lapses back into silence. He does, however, come up with a plan.
When they get home, Leo flops on the couch and flips the TV on, and David follows a few minutes later.
“Any estimated time of when your voice will be returning for good?” he asks. Leo ignores him. He slides a hand across Leo’s thigh. “Come on,” he says, “There are so many better things we could do than sit here in silence again.”
David’s hand moves higher and higher up Leo’s leg and he finally looks over. He spreads his knees a little wider and David knows he’s almost got him.
David slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of Leo, pushing one hand up the front of his shirt. Leo stares at him full on now, the TV forgotten. David uses his other hand to start tugging Leo’s shorts off, and he lifts his hips to help out. David leans forward, starts biting at the skin just above Leo’s boxers, pressing the heel of his palm into Leo’s cock, hardening beneath David’s hand.
Leo discards his shirt and David can see his chest rising and falling heavily. He tries to hide a smile, presses his mouth against Leo’s covered cock while one hand finds a nipple and the other slides under Leo’s waistband. Before he can do anything, Leo lifts his hips again and shoves his boxers down hastily, pushing David back as he does so. David smirks.
David leans in again, bites at the inside of Leo’s thigh before running a tongue over the mark, and Leo grunts, thrusts his hips up. It’s a noise, but David thinks, close, but not close enough. He moves until his mouth is right next to Leo’s cock, breathes over it, and he says, “I want you to beg for it.”
He looks up at Leo’s face, sees the outrage spreading across it and knows he’s won. Leo’s jaw drops and he glares at David. David, never breaking eye contact, runs his closed lips down the length of Leo’s cock, and Leo makes a pathetic choking sound, pushing his hips up toward David harder. David holds his hips down, hovers his mouth right above Leo’s cock. “Beg,” he repeats. He’s close enough that his lips brush the tip of Leo’s cock as he speaks.
Leo hisses and grabs a handful of David’s hair, barely hard enough to hurt. His teeth are gritted when he says, “Please.” He tries to push David’s head down but David resists, smiles.
“Please what?” If he’s going to make Leo end his silence, he’s got to do better than one word.
Leo’s eyes flash and it makes David want to laugh. “Fuck, David, please,” and he just sounds wrecked, and David figures that's good enough, slides his mouth down Leo’s cock as far as he can and takes a tight grip of the rest of it.
Leo’s hips stutter and the stream of words is steady now. David feels victorious.
Afterwards, David lifts himself onto the couch next to Leo and flashes a cocky grin. Leo rolls his eyes but reaches over and rubs at one of David’s knees, red from the wood floors.
“Proud of yourself, are you?”
“Kinda. Yeah.”
Leo huffs and slumps over, his head resting against David’s torso. “I wasn’t doing it to piss you off.”
David runs a hand through Leo's hair. “I know.”
“So why can’t you just let me be upset?”
It makes David feel a little bad. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I like talking to you, I guess.”
Leo’s quiet for a moment and then he says, “I think it made you talk more and I liked that.”
David looks down at him, a little surprised, and he says, “Yeah, I get that.” Leo presses his face into David’s chest and David kisses the top of his head. “I guess it wasn’t that bad. All things considered.”
Leo looks up at him and smiles. David says, “Let’s not do it again though,” and that they can agree on.
pairing: leo messi/david villa
rating: nc17
words: 2250
summary: messi has said he doesn't talk for awhile after big losses. that must be annoying.
When the final whistle blows at the Mestalla, David’s first thought is, no. He thinks, if there was one more minute. He thinks, this isn’t how my first cup game is supposed to end. Not here.
To say he thinks about Leo at all in those first few minutes would be a lie, but then he looks and sees the younger man sitting on the ground not five feet away from him, staring at nothing. Just staring. David doesn’t say anything to him, doesn’t know what to say. Just watches him stare, waits for him to blink.
Later, in the locker room, Leo still has that same look in his eyes and when David approaches him he doesn’t even glance over.
“Leo,” David says. Nothing. “Leo.” Louder. Nothing. “Leo!” But Leo doesn’t move at all, stares and stares and David wonders what he sees.
David pokes him in the side and he flinches, just slightly, slides his gaze over to David. David can tell just from the look in his eyes that Leo didn’t even know he was there, didn’t hear him at all, and he thinks, not again.
On the bus between the airport and Camp Nou it’s dark and quiet but David can’t sleep. He sits next to Leo who still hasn’t said a word. He’d let Leo have the window seat, and Leo had immediately pressed his forehead against it and not moved.
It’s been dead quiet but suddenly David hears a snicker from the back of the bus. “Oh my god,” someone says. “Ramos dropped the trophy off the bus and they ran over it. They ran over the goddamn king’s cup.”
There are snickers and then another voice says, “He didn’t drop it, it killed itself when it realized where it was.” Despite himself, David feels his lip quirk.
“Guys…” someone says, his voice a warning even while tinged with laughter. Puyol.
But when David turns toward Leo, there’s nothing, no sign he’s heard any of it. The only way David can tell he’s awake is the slow blink of his eyes.
When they get back to Camp Nou David realizes he drove over with Leo, and he sighs. He hadn’t thought about it, really, when they’d come over together; he’d thought they’d be returning smiling, laughing, sick with champagne, that they’d stay out all night dancing in the streets with the cules. Instead he’s here in the quiet with just Leo’s blank face and a second place medal weighing down his bag.
He catches up to Xavi. “I don’t suppose you’d want to take him home,” he mutters, low enough that Leo won’t hear, not that he’s paying attention anyway.
Xavi glances over at Leo and then shakes his head at David. “Not a chance.”
“I’ll owe you forever.”
“You already owe me forever.”
David hits him on the back of the head and says goodnight. He reluctantly walks over to his own car, throwing his bag in the back and waiting for Leo, trailing behind him, to catch up.
David doesn’t even try to talk to Leo in the car. He turns the radio on, softly, just so it’s not completely quiet, and Leo turns his head towards the window, doesn’t make a sound. When they get to David’s, David expects Leo to get his car and go home. Instead, he grabs his bag and follows David inside, and David doesn’t have the energy or the will to ask why or say no.
Leo immediately disappears in the direction of the bedroom. David goes in the kitchen, drinks water, checks his email before he follows.
It’s almost 5 a.m. before he turns the light off and sinks into bed next to Leo.
“Goodnight,” he says. He hears Leo breathing.
“I’m upset too, you know,” he says. He’s on his back, looking at the ceiling. Leo’s on his side, facing away from David, but David thinks he’s awake even though he can’t see.
Nothing. David turns on his side too, away from Leo. “You’re being selfish,” he says, knowing he’s being petulant, but so is Leo.
Leo shifts a little, and his foot slides against David’s calf. Then nothing. David sighs, closes his eyes.
They have the next day off and when David wakes up Leo’s side of the bed is empty. He looks at the clock and sees they just went to sleep 5 hours ago, but he gets up anyway, his stomach rumbling.
Leo’s on the couch watching TV. David gets a banana and starts the coffee maker before he walks in the living room to see what he’s watching; it’s a sports show, and it’s showing highlights from the game the day before.
“Do we really need to watch this right now?” David asks. The sun from the windows is already giving him a headache. Leo doesn’t respond.
“What else is on today?” he asks, standing over the back of the couch and looking down at Leo. Leo doesn’t look up at him, but hands him the remote, and David's glad at least he’s being acknowledged now. Then he thinks that’s probably a terrible thing to be relieved about.
He decides sitting in silence with Leo is not how he wants to spend his day off, and he takes his coffee to the porch to read the paper in his own quiet. He does laundry. He calls Xavi three times before he picks up just long enough to tell David he’s sleeping and not to call again unless he’s near death and no one else can help him. (David tells him that the silent setting on his phone will help him not be bothered without alienating loved ones. Xavi tells him to fuck off.)
David washes dishes. He calls his mom and regrets it when she starts ranting about how dirty or not dirty his sister’s house is. He naps.
Eventually he wanders back into the living room. Leo’s watching a rerun of the north London derby.
“It ends in a tie,” David huffs, flopping on the couch next to Leo. Leo looks over at him, blinks slowly, and then looks back at the TV.
“Oh my god,” David says.
The sun starts to set and David’s stomach grumbles loudly.
“I’m hungry,” he says needlessly, just to fill the quiet.
Leo, shockingly, says nothing.
“Come on,” David whines, “It’s been almost a day. Isn’t that how long you don’t talk for? A day?”
When he doesn’t respond, David twists so his legs are up on the couch next to Leo and starts poking his toes into Leo’s thigh, slowly and then getting faster. “Leo.” Poke. “Leo.” Poke. “Leo.” Poke. “Leo. Leo. Leo. Leo. Leo,” pushing his toes into Leo’s leg quickly.
Leo sighs but doesn't look over. He closes a hand over David’s foot, stilling it.
Leo’s hand is warm and it does calm David down for a minute, but then he remembers how annoyed he is and gets off the couch with a huff. He goes in the kitchen and grabs a takeout menu. He thinks, for a moment- a long moment- about asking Leo what he wants and then not getting him anything when Leo inevitably won’t answer, but then he remembers that he is, in most ways, a real adult, so he orders Leo the kung pao chicken he knows Leo would have asked for, if Leo were currently asking for anything.
When David gets back with the food and hands Leo his carton, he thinks- he’s almost sure- he sees a tiny smile of gratitude on Leo’s face, but maybe he’s just trying to convince himself that Leo is still actually a functioning human being. David’s still annoyed so he grabs the remote and turns off the TV, telling Leo, “If you want to be silent, then sit in silence.” He can’t even tell if Leo notices.
After awhile he says, “This reminds me of when I was little and I’d piss off one of my sisters and she wouldn’t talk to me for a week.” He picks at his own chicken, laughs a little at the memory. “Once I broke her favorite doll and she made it almost a month before she forgot and accidentally talked to me. I think it annoyed my parents more than me, honestly.”
He glances up at Leo, who’s looking at him and half smiles when David meets his gaze, like he wants him to continue. So David does, long after they’ve finished their meals, after the sun’s disappearance has sunk the room into darkness and he can’t see Leo’s face anymore. They sink back into the couch cushions and David talks about his family and his childhood, about the house he grew up in and the way Asturias smells and the way it felt to leave those things.
Leo never says a word, but David knows he's listening.
At practice the next morning they wander out to the pitch together, and Pep tells them good morning.
“Morning, coach,” David says, and he stretches his arms out. When Pep looks at Leo, David informs him, “He’s not talking yet.”
Pep glances at him and then back at Leo. “Morning, Leo,” he says, somewhat more forcefully.
“Morning, coach,” the voice comes from beside David, and David turns to gape at the younger man.
Pep pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have the power to bench him.”
David glares.
David’s not even surprised when practice ends and Leo lapses back into silence. He does, however, come up with a plan.
When they get home, Leo flops on the couch and flips the TV on, and David follows a few minutes later.
“Any estimated time of when your voice will be returning for good?” he asks. Leo ignores him. He slides a hand across Leo’s thigh. “Come on,” he says, “There are so many better things we could do than sit here in silence again.”
David’s hand moves higher and higher up Leo’s leg and he finally looks over. He spreads his knees a little wider and David knows he’s almost got him.
David slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of Leo, pushing one hand up the front of his shirt. Leo stares at him full on now, the TV forgotten. David uses his other hand to start tugging Leo’s shorts off, and he lifts his hips to help out. David leans forward, starts biting at the skin just above Leo’s boxers, pressing the heel of his palm into Leo’s cock, hardening beneath David’s hand.
Leo discards his shirt and David can see his chest rising and falling heavily. He tries to hide a smile, presses his mouth against Leo’s covered cock while one hand finds a nipple and the other slides under Leo’s waistband. Before he can do anything, Leo lifts his hips again and shoves his boxers down hastily, pushing David back as he does so. David smirks.
David leans in again, bites at the inside of Leo’s thigh before running a tongue over the mark, and Leo grunts, thrusts his hips up. It’s a noise, but David thinks, close, but not close enough. He moves until his mouth is right next to Leo’s cock, breathes over it, and he says, “I want you to beg for it.”
He looks up at Leo’s face, sees the outrage spreading across it and knows he’s won. Leo’s jaw drops and he glares at David. David, never breaking eye contact, runs his closed lips down the length of Leo’s cock, and Leo makes a pathetic choking sound, pushing his hips up toward David harder. David holds his hips down, hovers his mouth right above Leo’s cock. “Beg,” he repeats. He’s close enough that his lips brush the tip of Leo’s cock as he speaks.
Leo hisses and grabs a handful of David’s hair, barely hard enough to hurt. His teeth are gritted when he says, “Please.” He tries to push David’s head down but David resists, smiles.
“Please what?” If he’s going to make Leo end his silence, he’s got to do better than one word.
Leo’s eyes flash and it makes David want to laugh. “Fuck, David, please,” and he just sounds wrecked, and David figures that's good enough, slides his mouth down Leo’s cock as far as he can and takes a tight grip of the rest of it.
Leo’s hips stutter and the stream of words is steady now. David feels victorious.
Afterwards, David lifts himself onto the couch next to Leo and flashes a cocky grin. Leo rolls his eyes but reaches over and rubs at one of David’s knees, red from the wood floors.
“Proud of yourself, are you?”
“Kinda. Yeah.”
Leo huffs and slumps over, his head resting against David’s torso. “I wasn’t doing it to piss you off.”
David runs a hand through Leo's hair. “I know.”
“So why can’t you just let me be upset?”
It makes David feel a little bad. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I like talking to you, I guess.”
Leo’s quiet for a moment and then he says, “I think it made you talk more and I liked that.”
David looks down at him, a little surprised, and he says, “Yeah, I get that.” Leo presses his face into David’s chest and David kisses the top of his head. “I guess it wasn’t that bad. All things considered.”
Leo looks up at him and smiles. David says, “Let’s not do it again though,” and that they can agree on.