WORLD CUP KEY PARTY!
WORLD CUP VICTORY PARTY!
Participants: SNT
Rating: This PG- the fics...oooh!
Disclaimer: Of course this is all lies. If I actually got an invite to Iker’s house, I wouldn’t tell you about it.
Words: 1000
A/N - The groupings are a little muddled in this intro, but they’re all listed with authors at the end. (I had to rearrange a little as we had a spare writer turn up and I hate to leave anyone out!) It is entirely up to the writer to decide how the trios/pairs arrive in the room and what Iker’s envelopes contain. (for all we know, he put something entirely different in all of them) Have fun!
The press thought the team was coming to Iker’s house to hang out and watch the match, and certainly a few eyebrows must have gone up when no one was allowed in the doors but the twenty-three men who could call themselves World Champions.
Iker was sat in the main entrance with a stack of envelopes and glass of wine. To be honest, he was rather tired after the last forty-eight hours of non stop activity. He’d gotten all of about three hours of sleep, but the adrenaline was still coursing through him. The World Cup was in his reach on the table next to him- he’d managed to steal it from the table after lunch- and his team was on their way over for the final, private celebrations.
The first to arrive were Sergio Ramos and Fernando Torres.
“Iker!” Sergio beamed and kissed his friend. “I haven’t seen you in,” he consulted his watch, “Fifteen minutes!”
Iker laughed and embraced Nando as well. He was pleased that Nando had shaken his gloom which had been hanging over him about his performances. It was impossible to be sad when you held the World Cup in your hands.
“Sergio, you’re in room one, Nando, room seven,” Iker handed them envelopes as the front door opened and several Barca boys piled in.
“Key party?” Sergio’s grin was wide.
“With a twist,” Iker promised. “Have fun.”
Sergio and Fernando bounded off and Iker greeted Victor, Andres, Pedro, and Sergio Busquets.
“Welcome!” he embraced them all and began handing around envelopes. “Room assignments are on your envelopes, don’t open the until you get to your rooms.”
“Rooms for what?” Pedro asked as he spied the number five next to his name.
“Is this one of your key parties?” Victor asked, having heard about, but never participated before. His envelope said three.
“I thought we all might enjoy it,” Iker agreed.
Andres’s eyes were wide. “Like...KEY parties?” His envelope said two.
“Amazing,” Busquets said and threw an arm around Andres. “Trust me, you’ll love it. I got room seven.”
Silva and Marchena were next, and were sent off to rooms two and four respectively.
“What room are you in, Iker?” Silva asked hopefully.
“You’ll know if I show up in your room,” Iker’s eyes were gleaming.
Silva grinned and scampered off.
Pique, Cesc and Puyol arrived, Pique and Puyol guiding a tipsy Cesc in the door.
“What did you guys do to him!” Iker demanded as he got suddenly parental over Cesc.
“Nothing! He’s still drunk from last night!” Pique defended himself.
“Am not!” Cesc hiccuped. “I had a bit too much wine at lunch.”
“Oh Cesc,” Iker kissed his cheek and sat him down in his chair. “Stay here, I’m getting you some water.”
“Wub you Iker,” Cesc beamed and tilted in his chair.
Pique picked up the stack of envelopes. “Wicked, Key Party.”
Puyol looked pleased. “Yes! I’ve been wanting to come to one of these. Where are we?”
“Do you think we should leave those til Iker gets back?” Cesc peered over, but Pique pushed him back in his chair.
“I’m in room seven,” Pique flipped through, “but I can’t see anyone else who is.”
“You get to wank off alone- like always!” Cesc hiccuped gleefully.
“You’re in five,” Pique ignored told him, “with Mata apparently.”
“Ooh!” Cesc clapped his hands. “Cescy like!”
“Aw, Puyi you lucky bastard, you’re in one with Navas!”
Puyol grinned. “Awesome.”
Iker returned with a bottle of water for Cesc, and Pique and Puyol stood innocently, checking out the cup. Iker knew exactly what they’d been doing, but was unconcerned. They’d all know soon enough. He sent them on their way.
Several carloads arrived at once, and there was a bit of confusion as Iker tried to hand out envelopes and keep Pepe from running off with the World Cup.
“Alright, Albi, you’re in eight, Xabi, you’re in three,” Iker sorted through the stack, “Mata- room five, Capdevila- room six. Pepe, if you touch that cup again, you’re spending the party in the basement alone!”
Pepe grinned and put it back on the table. “Aye-aye captain. Where to?”
“Room two- go!”
Llorente stood before him happily holding out his hand. “Room nine.”
“Javi,” Iker said, handing him an envelope and giving him a grin Javi couldn’t read. “Room four.”
The crowd dispersed,and Iker looked at the envelopes he had left.
Arbeloa arrived alone, having run past his house to drop off some things. “Alvi- room six.”
“Iker- you’ve been planning this party since before we left for the cup, haven’t you?” Alvi kissed his cheek as he took the envelope.
“I had it in mind,” Iker admitted.
The final three guests soon arrived: Xavi, Villa, and a very wide-eyed Jesus.
Yes, Iker thought, he’d done a good job selecting the room for Jesus.
“San Iker the slut,” Villa grinned, taking his envelope. “Did I get you?”
“Sorry, David, room six.”
“Where are you?” Villa asked.
“Not your business,” Iker said handing Xavi room eight.
“Eight’s a good number,” he grinned.
Jesus took his in a slightly shaky hand. “Room one?”
“Yes,” Iker said and gave him a hug. “Enjoy.”
The three departed, and making sure the front door was locked, he finished his wine, picked up the World Cup, and headed to room nine.
The Rooms:
1. Sergio Ramos/Carlos Puyol/Jesus Navas - lovinthelads
2. David Silva/Andres Iniesta/Pepe Reina - vintagegal16
3. Xabi Alonso/Victor Valdez inesdelsol
4. Carlos Marchena/Javi Martinez - lady_quark
5. Cesc Fabregas/Pedro Rodriguez/Juan Mata - totally_loca
6. David Villa/Alvaro Arbeloa/Joan Capdevila miss_black91
7. Sergio Busquets/Fernando Torres/Gerard Pique - 4jinx_removing
8. Raul Albiol/Xavi Hernandez - nanousblues
9. Fernando Llorente/Iker Casillas - spainawards2008
Participants: SNT
Rating: This PG- the fics...oooh!
Disclaimer: Of course this is all lies. If I actually got an invite to Iker’s house, I wouldn’t tell you about it.
Words: 1000
A/N - The groupings are a little muddled in this intro, but they’re all listed with authors at the end. (I had to rearrange a little as we had a spare writer turn up and I hate to leave anyone out!) It is entirely up to the writer to decide how the trios/pairs arrive in the room and what Iker’s envelopes contain. (for all we know, he put something entirely different in all of them) Have fun!
The press thought the team was coming to Iker’s house to hang out and watch the match, and certainly a few eyebrows must have gone up when no one was allowed in the doors but the twenty-three men who could call themselves World Champions.
Iker was sat in the main entrance with a stack of envelopes and glass of wine. To be honest, he was rather tired after the last forty-eight hours of non stop activity. He’d gotten all of about three hours of sleep, but the adrenaline was still coursing through him. The World Cup was in his reach on the table next to him- he’d managed to steal it from the table after lunch- and his team was on their way over for the final, private celebrations.
The first to arrive were Sergio Ramos and Fernando Torres.
“Iker!” Sergio beamed and kissed his friend. “I haven’t seen you in,” he consulted his watch, “Fifteen minutes!”
Iker laughed and embraced Nando as well. He was pleased that Nando had shaken his gloom which had been hanging over him about his performances. It was impossible to be sad when you held the World Cup in your hands.
“Sergio, you’re in room one, Nando, room seven,” Iker handed them envelopes as the front door opened and several Barca boys piled in.
“Key party?” Sergio’s grin was wide.
“With a twist,” Iker promised. “Have fun.”
Sergio and Fernando bounded off and Iker greeted Victor, Andres, Pedro, and Sergio Busquets.
“Welcome!” he embraced them all and began handing around envelopes. “Room assignments are on your envelopes, don’t open the until you get to your rooms.”
“Rooms for what?” Pedro asked as he spied the number five next to his name.
“Is this one of your key parties?” Victor asked, having heard about, but never participated before. His envelope said three.
“I thought we all might enjoy it,” Iker agreed.
Andres’s eyes were wide. “Like...KEY parties?” His envelope said two.
“Amazing,” Busquets said and threw an arm around Andres. “Trust me, you’ll love it. I got room seven.”
Silva and Marchena were next, and were sent off to rooms two and four respectively.
“What room are you in, Iker?” Silva asked hopefully.
“You’ll know if I show up in your room,” Iker’s eyes were gleaming.
Silva grinned and scampered off.
Pique, Cesc and Puyol arrived, Pique and Puyol guiding a tipsy Cesc in the door.
“What did you guys do to him!” Iker demanded as he got suddenly parental over Cesc.
“Nothing! He’s still drunk from last night!” Pique defended himself.
“Am not!” Cesc hiccuped. “I had a bit too much wine at lunch.”
“Oh Cesc,” Iker kissed his cheek and sat him down in his chair. “Stay here, I’m getting you some water.”
“Wub you Iker,” Cesc beamed and tilted in his chair.
Pique picked up the stack of envelopes. “Wicked, Key Party.”
Puyol looked pleased. “Yes! I’ve been wanting to come to one of these. Where are we?”
“Do you think we should leave those til Iker gets back?” Cesc peered over, but Pique pushed him back in his chair.
“I’m in room seven,” Pique flipped through, “but I can’t see anyone else who is.”
“You get to wank off alone- like always!” Cesc hiccuped gleefully.
“You’re in five,” Pique ignored told him, “with Mata apparently.”
“Ooh!” Cesc clapped his hands. “Cescy like!”
“Aw, Puyi you lucky bastard, you’re in one with Navas!”
Puyol grinned. “Awesome.”
Iker returned with a bottle of water for Cesc, and Pique and Puyol stood innocently, checking out the cup. Iker knew exactly what they’d been doing, but was unconcerned. They’d all know soon enough. He sent them on their way.
Several carloads arrived at once, and there was a bit of confusion as Iker tried to hand out envelopes and keep Pepe from running off with the World Cup.
“Alright, Albi, you’re in eight, Xabi, you’re in three,” Iker sorted through the stack, “Mata- room five, Capdevila- room six. Pepe, if you touch that cup again, you’re spending the party in the basement alone!”
Pepe grinned and put it back on the table. “Aye-aye captain. Where to?”
“Room two- go!”
Llorente stood before him happily holding out his hand. “Room nine.”
“Javi,” Iker said, handing him an envelope and giving him a grin Javi couldn’t read. “Room four.”
The crowd dispersed,and Iker looked at the envelopes he had left.
Arbeloa arrived alone, having run past his house to drop off some things. “Alvi- room six.”
“Iker- you’ve been planning this party since before we left for the cup, haven’t you?” Alvi kissed his cheek as he took the envelope.
“I had it in mind,” Iker admitted.
The final three guests soon arrived: Xavi, Villa, and a very wide-eyed Jesus.
Yes, Iker thought, he’d done a good job selecting the room for Jesus.
“San Iker the slut,” Villa grinned, taking his envelope. “Did I get you?”
“Sorry, David, room six.”
“Where are you?” Villa asked.
“Not your business,” Iker said handing Xavi room eight.
“Eight’s a good number,” he grinned.
Jesus took his in a slightly shaky hand. “Room one?”
“Yes,” Iker said and gave him a hug. “Enjoy.”
The three departed, and making sure the front door was locked, he finished his wine, picked up the World Cup, and headed to room nine.
The Rooms:
1. Sergio Ramos/Carlos Puyol/Jesus Navas - lovinthelads
2. David Silva/Andres Iniesta/Pepe Reina - vintagegal16
3. Xabi Alonso/Victor Valdez inesdelsol
4. Carlos Marchena/Javi Martinez - lady_quark
5. Cesc Fabregas/Pedro Rodriguez/Juan Mata - totally_loca
6. David Villa/Alvaro Arbeloa/Joan Capdevila miss_black91
7. Sergio Busquets/Fernando Torres/Gerard Pique - 4jinx_removing
8. Raul Albiol/Xavi Hernandez - nanousblues
9. Fernando Llorente/Iker Casillas - spainawards2008