Of Books and Wine
Language English
Fandom Football
Characters Markel Susaeta & Óscar De Marcos
Words 2.764
Summary Markel, a student writing a research report in a cafe. Óscar, the cute waiter that brings Markel his wine.
Rating PG-13
Beta'ed No
Disclaimer This is all in my head and in no way meant to be real.
Of Books and Wine
Markel yawned and took his reading glasses off, rubbing over his eyes with the palms of his hands, his vision bleary. He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, pushing his laptop away from him. Books were spread around the little table he was seated at, pages filled with small words that had started to swim in front of his eyes. The text on the opened Word document on his laptop had become blurry and he needed to take a break before he got a headache.
Markel stretched his arms, feeling his joints pop and his stiff muscles protest against the movement. He closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh, opening his eyes again and sat up straight, putting his glasses back on.
He gathered one of his books again, flipping through a couple of pages and propped it up against the laptop. He ripped an empty page out of his notebook and started to read the marked sections of the book, jotting down notes as he went through the text.
“Would you like me to refill your coffee?” A soft voice asked and Markel looked up, startled and a bit confused. He noticed a waiter standing next to him, pen poised on a small notepad to take his order if needed. He looked slightly younger than him but very handsome with blue eyes and sharp lines, dressed in the dark grey shirt with the cafe logo and pants in the same shade, a black apron tied around his waist.
“I would like a nice red wine, to be honest. It has been a long day.” He smiled faintly at the waiter who smiled back, causing something to stir inside Markel.
“One red wine coming up.” The waiter wrote the order down, smiling one last time before moving to the next table. Markel followed him with his eyes, blatantly staring at how snug those pants were.
He shook his head and focused on his books again, another sigh passing over his lips. He propped his left hand under his chin, pushed his glasses back up with his right hand and continued reading, taking more notes.
He was so emerged in his research that he didn’t notice it when the waiter returned with a crystal wine glass and an unopened bottle filled with a dark red liquid. The waiter cleared his throat and Markel startled, head snapping up.
“Sorry,” The waiter smiled ruefully when he noticed Markel rubbing the back of his neck. “I got your wine. Would you like to try it before I pour a full glass?”
“Nah, I trust your choice.” Markel spoke, lowering his voice slightly as he smiled flirty at the waiter. He wasn’t one who flirted with everybody but he was tired and the waiter was very good looking.
The waiter smiled back and popped the cork off the bottle, carefully pouring the wine into Markel’s glass, making sure he didn’t get any bubbles in while pouring. He put the bottle down and carefully picked the glass up, handing it to Markel. Their fingers brushed together, sending sparks down Markel’s fingers and he smiled wider when he saw a faint blush colouring the waiter’s cheeks.
“Here you go.” The waiter spoke softly, his voice deep.
“Thank you.” Markel kept his gaze as he slowly took a sip, running his tongue quickly over his lips to catch a stray drop. He noticed the waiter’s eyes widen and his cheeks turned redder and Markel himself started to get a bit flustered too. This really wasn’t him but the waiter was just so handsome and it had sparked something inside him.
“And?” The waiter asked after a few seconds of tense silence between them.
“I like it. You have a very good taste.” Markel smiled again, a bit shy this time, embarrassed about the blunt way he had been flirting.
“Thank you.” The young man muttered, sounding a bit embarrassed and picked the bottle up, going back towards the kitchen. Markel ogled his backside again, unconsciously running a finger over the rim of his wine glass, the soft ringing sound pulling him back into the real world.
“Right, research.” He muttered, taking another sip of the wine before going back to his books and laptop. He put the book he had propped against the laptop to the side and starting copying his rather chaotic notes onto the Word document, fixing grammar and spelling mistakes and making sure the sentences ran well together.
He occasionally looked up when the cute waiter came in the neighbourhood of his table, smiling when he caught him looking and the waiter smiled back, sending more shivers down his spin, a pleasant feeling stirring in his stomach that made his cheeks flush slightly.
It was close to the end of the afternoon when the waiter returned with the bottle of wine, Markel having taken the last sip from his wine a few minutes ago and put the empty glass on top of a closed book, making sure the waiter could see it. Not very subtle but it worked brilliantly if Markel said so himself.
“Would you like a refill?” He asked, holding the bottle out, grinning and Markel smiled, nodding as he held out his glass. The waiter carefully refilled the glass, making sure the wine didn’t slosh around.
“You are good at that.” Markel muttered as the waiter was done, immediately taking a sip from the wine.
“Lots and lots of practise.” The waiter smiled a crooked grin that did funny things to Markel’s insides as he answered. Markel was about to respond when someone bumped into the back of his chair, causing the wine to dangerously slush around in his glass as he was pushed forwards. Markel jerked back, not wanting to spill wine over his books and laptop and instead got the red liquid over his own light grey shirt.
“Shit.” He cursed, jumping up from his chair. He could feel the wine seeping through the fabric and he cursed again. The man who had bumped into his chair apologised and quickly walked away.
Markel glared at him before looking down again at his ruined shirt, sighing when he saw the big red stain.
“Damnit, this is my favourite shirt.” He muttered, putting his glass down on the table and grabbing a napkin from it, starting to dap at his shirt.
“That will never work. We have some cleaning stuff in the back, I could help you to get the stain out?” The waiter offered after he got over the shock. Markel looked up, stopping the pointless cleaning. He glanced at the table before looking back at the waiter.
“My books and laptop... I can’t leave them behind unsupervised.” Markel hesitated. He wanted the stain out his shirt, to try and see if he could still save it but he didn’t want to take all his stuff into a toilet.
“That won’t be a problem. Ander!” The waiter called over his shoulder and another waiter looked up, finished the order he was taking before walking over to them.
“Could you watch this gentleman’s stuff while we’ll try to get his shirt clean?” The waiter asked, gesturing towards the table. Ander looked at them for a second before grinning.
“Sure Óscar, whatever you say.” Markel could detect a cheeky tone in Ander’s voice but decided to ignore it, deeming it unimportant. He would watch over his stuff and Markel was grateful for that.
“Thank you. Come, we can use the restroom in the back to clean your shirt.” The waiter, apparently named Óscar, tugged on Markel’s arm before leading the way towards the back, putting the bottle of wine down on the bar and manoeuvring them through a busy kitchen.
Markel flushed when the cooks turned to look at them but Óscar ignored them, just led Markel to another door that led to a quiet hallway.
“Here is the restroom, I will be back in a sec with cleaning stuff.” Óscar pointed to a door and Markel went inside, finding a spacious restroom. He stepped in front of the mirror, looking at his shirt with a sigh. He hoped that Óscar could get the stain out, this really was one of his favourite shirts.
The door opened again and Óscar stepped inside, a couple of flasks and bottles in his arms. He smiled quickly at Markel before lining all the cleaning products on the sink.
“Take off your shirt.” Óscar muttered as he read one of the labels on the bottles.
“What?” Markel spluttered, staring with wide eyes at Óscar. The waiter blushed as he realised what he just asked.
“To clean it?” Óscar mumbled.
“Oh! Right, yeah, of course.” Markel blushed, feeling rather stupid, and took his shirt off, handing it over to Óscar. The waiter blinked a couple of times and Markel became painfully aware of the fact that he was standing here half naked. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and avoided looking at Óscar.
Óscar shook his head and turned to the sink, spread the shirt out over the marble and picked up one of the bottles.
“My colleague recommended this one.” He explained, spraying the cleaning solution on the stain until it was covered by the thick white soap.
“And now we have to wait while it works into the fabric.” Óscar turned around to look at Markel, hooking his thumbs behind the band of his apron and leaned against the sink, his muscles rippling underneath his shirt. Markel swallowed as he let his eyes roam over Óscar, taking in every little detail.
He noticed Óscar doing the same to him and he took a deep breath, gathering all his courage. He took a step forward and another one until he was standing right in front of Óscar, a foot separating them. He uncrossed his arms and looked into Óscar’s blue eyes, searching for any hint that the waiter didn’t want this.
He didn’t find any resistance against him and he reached out, cupping Óscar’s jaw and softly pressing his lips against Óscar’s. The waiter responded eagerly, placing his hands on Markel’s hips to pull him closer, opening his mouth for Markel’s tongue.
Markel groaned softly and pressed himself closer to Óscar, nipping at his lip before licking the sting away. The waiter let his hands roam over Markel’s bare back, tugging on his short hair and kissed back, fighting for dominancy over the kiss.
“Fuck Óscar, you are a good kisser.” Markel muttered when Óscar pulled away, both panting for breath. Óscar gave a sharp laugh and pulled Markel into another kiss.
“I don’t even know your name.” Óscar whispered against his lips when they broke apart again and this time it was Markel who laughed. He slipped his hands underneath the waiter’s shirt, feeling smooth warm skin under his fingertips.
“Markel, its Markel.” He whispered back, moving down to kiss Óscar’s neck.
“Markel? A pretty name for a pretty handsome guy. Fuck.” Óscar tilted his head back, offering Markel more neck to nip at while he threaded his fingers through Markel’s hair, his other hand sliding down over Markel’s back before cupping his ass, grinding their hips together.
Markel pulled away from Óscar’s neck with a groan, blushing a little when he saw a blossoming red mark he had left behind, and stepped away from the waiter.
“Fuck, sorry, I can’t do this.” Markel muttered frustrated, running a hand through his hair.
“I... this is just not my thing. I’m not really the type to do this kind of stuff.” He tried to explain, voice a bit helpless. Óscar chuckled softly and stepped forward, gently kissing Markel to shut him up.
“It is all right. This isn’t my thing either.” Markel smiled at him and kissed back, soft lips gliding over each other.
“So, you want to go out tonight, on a date?” Markel asked when he pulled away, hands resting on Óscar’s hips, his thumbs pushing the waiter’s shirt up so he could rub circles onto Óscar’s smooth skin.
“I’m done at six tonight.” Óscar grinned and Markel leaned forward to kiss the waiter again, tugging him closer so their hips were pressed together again.
“Meet me at seven in front of the cafe? Gives us both enough time to get changed?” Markel kissed him again, crowding Óscar against the sink.
“Hmm, I think I can make seven. Where do you want to go to?” Óscar mumbled back, barracking Markel’s hips again, fingers swiping over his skin that sent tingles down Markel’s back.
“I know this great pasta place nearby.”
“Sounds good. Fuck.” Óscar muttered and cursed as Markel scratched his nails gently down the waiter’s side.
“So it’s a date?” The waiter asked cheekily, gasping when Markel bit down on his lip gently.
“It’s a date.” Markel grinned back and pulled away from Óscar, smirking when he noticed the dazed look in the waiter’s blue eyes.
“So, how is my shirt?” He asked, chuckling when he got a very intelligent ‘huh’ from Óscar. He moved to the sink to check on the shirt. The soap had started to foam, the foam pink from the wine and he carefully washed the soap off the shirt. There was still a light pink stain on his shirt but a wash in the machine should take care of that. He sighed in relieve, giving Óscar a quick kiss in thanks.
“We should try to get it dry, it would look strange if you go back wearing a wet shirt.” The waiter mumbled, pulling Markel over at the hand dryer. He held the shirt under it, the sensor noticing movement and starting to blow hot air on the wet shirt while Óscar pushed Markel against the wall, trapping him by placing his hand beside his head and kissed him again.
It was a few minutes later when they checked to see if the shirt was dry enough, Markel pulling Óscar back into a kiss when the fabric still felt damp to him.
“I think it is dry enough now?” Óscar pulled away again, lips swollen from the kisses and Markel was distracted for a moment. He patted the shirt absentmindedly, taking it from Óscar’s hand when it felt dry to him. He pulled it on and smoothened it out, frowning at the pink stain that was still visible before looking at his own image, blushing when he took in his own bruised lips and ruffled hair. He quickly fixed his hair and splashed some water on his face to make the blush fade away, Óscar doing the same next to him.
“So... I think you should go back first. I got to put this stuff away.” Óscar scratched the back of his neck awkwardly after they were done fixing their hair, scuffing a foot on the floor as he gestured at all the cleaning bottles.
“Yeah... that would be best. I’ll see you tonight then?” Markel copied his scratching, dropping his hand when he noticed what he was doing.
“Yeah...” Óscar smiled shyly and Markel stepped forward, pecking his lips.
“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” He grinned before slipping out of the restroom, heart racing and butterflies flapping in his stomach. He made his way through the kitchen again, looking down to avoid any one looking at him and walked quickly to his table. Ander was helping some guests next to his table but still had time to leer at Markel when he came back.
Markel blushed again and quickly gathered his stuff together, packing his bag and pulling on his coat. It was already a quarter past five and he needed to change his clothes and maybe even take a quick shower to get ready for his date.
“I’m such a girl.” He mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he swung his bag over a shoulder, going towards the register.
He was in the process of paying with his card when Óscar came out of the kitchen, his lips still slightly swollen. The waiter looked around, smiling when he saw Markel and Markel’s inside flipped. He smiled back, blushing, and handed the girl who was helping him a tip.
He stuffed the receipt in his wallet and opened the door, looking over his shoulder one last time to see Óscar still looking at him, a faint smile on the waiter’s lips and Markel smiled back, laughing as Óscar waved at him, before stepping outside and closing the door behind him, making his way back to his apartment with a bounce in his step.