Born to Run (Part 10/29)
Title: Born to Run
Part: 10/29
Pairings: Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres, Iker Casillas/Sergio Ramos (ish)
Rating: NC-17 from here on out just to be safe.
Disclaimer: Tragically untrue.
Summary: Tramps like us, baby we were born to run.
one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine.
"What happened? Tell me what happened." Iker looks Sergio's body over worriedly, checking for broken bones, for bruises. He runs his hand down Sergio's back and his heart jumps when Sergio shudders, when he simultaneously pushes closer to Iker and tries to shy away from his hands. Sergio shakes his head and sniffles softly, burrowing the sound into the safety of Iker's neck. Fernando, after hovering worriedly outside of the car, finally kneels down in the open doorway and strokes the top of Sergio's head, pushing his face in to dig kisses against his sweaty scalp. Sergio pushes away from them both after a long moment and he wipes his eyes, drawing his knees up into the seat, back against the side of the car, head against the window. Two men walk by them, laughing and talking to each other as if the most beautiful boy in all the world wasn't broken just feet from them.
"He took it."
Fernando and Iker blink slowly, trying to process the words but not really wanting to. Iker suddenly feels sick to his stomach.
"Who took what, Sese?"
Sergio starts breathing quickly now, his eyes darting back and forth all over the inside of the car. He digs at his pants, at his belt of coins, at his sleeves.
"The... the farmer. He..." Sergio starts to cry again, tears falling steadily from his eyes and his voice is quivering and it's enough to make Iker's eyes burn. "He came out of the bathroom while I was paying and he looked angry. He said something to me when he went past but I couldn't hear him. A-and I went outside, you know? To wait for you guys. And... and... I unlocked the car and set the food down and..." He looks up at them, his eyes dark now, deep with shame, with fear, with something completely foreign to Iker and his heart sinks when he realizes that Sergio is looking straight past him, his eyes locked on Fernando. "He told me he knew I had money, that my 'little friend' had told him so. He told me to give him the money or he'd made me regret it. I told him no. I did, I promise I did. I tried. But he... he found a way. He took it. He took all of it."
They all three sit in silence and it slowly unravels Sergio, making him shove his hands up over his face, nails digging cruel scratches over his cheeks. Fernando and Iker both move for him immediately, both pulling at his hands to make him stop and he sobs so loudly they both jump.
"It's all my fault. It's all my fault. I let you down. You trusted me and I ruined it. You can get rid of me if you want. I deserve it. You can leave me here." He looks up and finds Iker's eyes first and his face crumples and Iker clutches at him, curling down over him and rocking him gently, only slightly annoyed by how Fernando is pressed against his back, by his thin fingers still shaky from sex and how they're petting Sergio anywhere they can reach. Iker pushes his face against the side of Sergio's, his mouth bumping against his ear. His eyes are up, staring murderously outside, obsessed with finding that man, with killing him with his bare hands.
"This is not your fault. I'm not leaving you anywhere. I am not leaving you. I would die protecting you, do you hear me?" Iker's voice is soft against Sergio's ear and he kisses it when Sergio nods. He lifts his head and tightens his arms around Sergio, turning around to meet Fernando's eyes and their expressions match exactly, both regretful, terrified, furious. Expectant. "How much do you have?"
"Thirty. From..." Fernando reaches into his pocket and pulls the money out, handing it over to Iker without question. Iker's mouth is thin and he takes the money, looking down at it like it's poison before pushing it into his backpocket. He looks Fernando over, at the bite marks on his freckled cheek, at the trail of teeth marks all the way down his neck, disappearing under the stretched out collar of his shirt. He sighs, feeling old suddenly, feeling irresponsible and like a criminal himself.
"Let's get going."
Fernando nods and Sergio does gently, easing himself up out of Iker's arms once again and wiping at his eyes. He looks undone, exhausted. Fernando stares at him worriedly, worming his way past Iker to get closer to Sergio and so Iker climbs out of the backseat, hazel eyes surveying the parkinglot, ready in a second's nose to take off running as soon as he sees a motorcycle, a dirty white shirt, a dangerous smile. Fernando wipes at Sergio's eyes, searching them as he helps him out of his clinky belt, out of his layers of shirts until he's bare-chested and Fernando wads all of them up to create a pillow for Sergio to rest his head on, stroking down his hair and his neck and shoulders to his scarred back, tendering the raised scars as Sergio slowly deflates, his eyes almost lifeless as he stares at the back of the seat. Iker opens the driver's side door and sinks into his seat, sighing heavily as he pulls the door closed, the familiar aches from sitting in just this position for so long coming back. Fernando leans down, not to meet Sergio's eyes but to get close enough to whisper.
"What did he do to you?"
Sergio's eyes don't change and he just shakes his head, fingers curling up tight around the shirt his head is resting on. Fernando brings his lips closed on Sergio's forehead, kissing it over and over again as Iker starts up the car, he kisses him until Iker has his seatbelt on and the radio on and he knows he has to move. He crawls over the console and into the passenger seat and Iker doesn't scold him for once. He puts the car into reverse and they drive out slowly, Iker's eyes peeled, staring at each and every person they pass. He's gritting his teeth and he will for the rest of his life associate that particular sensation with the desire for revenge.
The drive through southeast Pennsylvania is beautiful, the landscape pregnant with summer, a green so bright it doesn't seem real. The roads are long stretches, dividing up green fields, dotted by the occasional sound of rushing water from a nearby creek. Fernando spends at least an hour turned completely toward the window, his legs curled up in the seat, long, skinny arms folded on the open window, his chin resting on them so he can watch every single thing that passes. He doesn't even try to tame his hair that is being whipped around his face, the sharp but tiny stings as it lands on his cheeks unnoticed. His mind is with the boy in the backseat, the boy who is sleeping heavily and curled up, facing away from them, face buried against the back of the seat. Iker can see how tense Fernando's shoulders are, can sense all the thoughts in his head because they're the ones in his head, too. He looks in the rearview but can only see Sergio's hair lifting in the fast wind, can only see the slight curve of his half-bare hip. He rests his elbow on the windowsill, his hand rubbing his own face slowly, dragging over his scratchy cheeks, over his tight mouth. Fernando sighs suddenly and twists until he's sitting correctly in the seat again though he lifts his feet to rest them on the dashboard. Iker glances over at him but says nothing.
"So, Skynyrd, huh?"
Iker looks over at him, surprised. Fernando is staring straight ahead, at the sky that is turning from a bright, pure blue to the barest hints of yellow, the sunset imminent. He straightens his arm on the windowsill out and uses that hand to hold onto the wheel, turning his body slightly toward Fernando, free hand resting on his thigh.
"Yeah, I like 'em. Guilty pleasure, I guess."
"My Daddy knew one of 'em."
"One of who?"
"The boys in the band. Gary or Barry or somethin' like that. Used to come over and play the guitar from 'Free Bird' a lot."
Iker looks over at him in quick, astounded glances, his fingers dancing on his thigh.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Yeah. He was alright, I guess. A drinker just like the rest of 'em. Used to come over to get his 'shine."
"Moonshine?"
"Yeh. Grandaddy used to have a still on the back of the prop'rty. When he died, my Daddy took over. Started addin' flavors and made a good chunka change from it."
"Is that what he did for a living?"
"Mm-hmm." Fernando gives a humorless breath of laughter, his eyes unfocused in front of him. He glances over at Iker after a minute, offering him a self-depricating smile. "Honorable man, just like your Daddy."
Iker looks over at him from the corners of his eyes and smirks at him, shaking his head a little as "Free Bird" coincidentally started up.
"How'd he die?"
Fernando frowns then, long legs shifting on the dash.
"Gunshot."
"Whose gun?"
"His."
"Where?"
Fernando looks over at him fully, his voice matter-of-fact.
"In the head, of course."
"You miss him?"
He snorts then, an ugly sound to match his scowl.
"If I's gonna miss him, I wouldn'a done it."
Iker doesn't look over at him this time, he keeps his eyes straight ahead and only a guitar interrupts the silence. He reaches over and pushes his hand into the back of Fernando's hair, his fingers strong but gentle as he rubs his scalp. Fernando relaxes just a little, his jaw still set, staring straight ahead. They don't speak for a long time, the song coming and going, the wind a constant, moving thing all through the car, through their hair, their thoughts. Iker's hand finally comes to a stop but he keeps it on Fernando's neck, resting there comfortably, just present.
"If you could pick, where would you be right now and what would you be doing? Anything at all."
Fernando's face softens and his tiny smile makes Iker's wrist ache.
"You mean right now? This very minute?"
"Right now."
"Hm." Fernando falls silent in thought, his feet moving back and forth to the jangly guitar coming from the speakers. Iker wants to tell him that he can always tell a Southern boy by the way his feet move to music but he doesn't, doesn't want to disrupt his thoughts. "I wanna be in California. On the beach, in my big fuckin' beach house. I wanna be eatin' the biggest steak they can fit on the biggest grill in the world and lotsa mashed potatoes, with tons of garlic and butter. I want big, big glasses of Sprite and water. Ice cold water, that kinda crunchy ice you can get at Sonic. You know what Sonic is?"
Iker smiles straight ahead and nods. His fingers are petting Fernando's hair now without even realizing it. Fernando nods, satisfied.
"I wanna sit my scrawny ass down on my big ol' couch and play video games all day, all kinds of 'em. And when I get tired of it, I wanna go outside and sleep in my hammock right there on the beach, my private beach. No big-titted bimbos or muscle men on my beach. Just me. And I'll sleep til sun sets and then I'll go inside and there'll be hamburgers! Big, fat ones with lots of ketchup and pickles and cheese and chili cheese fries and some good, cold beer. And then I wanna watch a movie and then maybe get my dick sucked and then I wanna go to bed, in my big, fancy bed with those new blankets, you know the ones? Real soft?"
"Down comforters?"
"Yeah! A down comforter. No, no. Five of 'em. And lotsa pillows. And no fuckin' alarm clock."
"Whose gonna fix all the food and suck your dick?"
Fernando smiles, happy with his imaginary world and amused by Iker's question.
"Dunno. Some pretty boy I hire to take care of me. Or some big, strong man who can do all the repair jobs around the house. With an ass that looks good in tight jeans."
"Sounds like you've got it all figured out."
"I guess I do." He nods decisively, his hand bent at the wrist so he can rest his hand on top of it, staring out the window again. "What about you?"
"Mm." Iker rouses himself from his thoughts, tongue sliding over his lips as he puts some honest thought into this. "I wanna be back home, on my Momma's farm. I wanna get up real early in the morning before everybody else does, right when the sun's just rising and I want to take Amos out for a run."
"Who's Amos?"
"My horse. We'd go out into the hills and he'd drink from the creek and we'd go to the top of the highest hill and watch the sun rise. And we'd come back right when everybody else is getting up and I'd come in and Momma'd have breakfast made, scrambled eggs and grits and biscuits and gravy. Tall glasses of cool, cool milk. Nothing tastes better than fresh, cold milk."
Fernando nods and it's wistful and his eyes are faraway again, his smile a ghost.
"After breakfast I'd go find Angel and she'd probably have some idea of what the day should be like, what she wants to make me do and we'd do that. Playing with dolls or playing house or tea party or gatherin' strawberries or whatever it is she wants. She likes to lay in the grass in the backyard and watch the clouds. We'd argue about which was better to watch, clouds or stars. And she'd find pirate ships and hippo ballerinas in those clouds and maybe we'd fall asleep, right there in the grass. And Momma's voice would wake us up for lunch and we'd have chicken, maybe. Fried chicken with corn and green beans and big ol' slices of tomatoes. And strawberry pie for dessert, strawberries that me an' Angel picked. And then Ronnie'd tell me he wants to go play baseball down at the baseball diamond, and we'd spend the whole afternoon there, just a little game with the town boys and we'd beat the other boys so bad. And we'd come home for dinner, some kinda stew maybe, a good, thick stew with cornbread. And me and Momma would sit out on the porch swing while the sun set, just real quiet, watching Ang and Ron play in the yard. And I'd go to sleep real tired, that kind of tired where you're happy and you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow."
"How old is Angel?"
"She's eleven."
Fernando smiles and it's really nothing but tender.
"A little old to be playing with dolls, don't you think?"
Iker frowns, just a gentle turn down at the corners of his mouth, his foot pressing down on the gas just a little more, pushing them faster against the wind that whips and spins Fernando's bright white hair.
"This is my perfect day."
"I know." Fernando feels bad and he looks away from him, looking back out the window and his shoulders draw in a little. Iker's hand rubs his neck just once and he feels a little better, a little more heartened.
"We'll figure this out. Okay?"
Fernando nods a little and when Iker's hand squeezes softly again, he looks over and meets his eyes with a small smile.
"I know."
chapter eleven.
Part: 10/29
Pairings: Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres, Iker Casillas/Sergio Ramos (ish)
Rating: NC-17 from here on out just to be safe.
Disclaimer: Tragically untrue.
Summary: Tramps like us, baby we were born to run.
one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine.
"What happened? Tell me what happened." Iker looks Sergio's body over worriedly, checking for broken bones, for bruises. He runs his hand down Sergio's back and his heart jumps when Sergio shudders, when he simultaneously pushes closer to Iker and tries to shy away from his hands. Sergio shakes his head and sniffles softly, burrowing the sound into the safety of Iker's neck. Fernando, after hovering worriedly outside of the car, finally kneels down in the open doorway and strokes the top of Sergio's head, pushing his face in to dig kisses against his sweaty scalp. Sergio pushes away from them both after a long moment and he wipes his eyes, drawing his knees up into the seat, back against the side of the car, head against the window. Two men walk by them, laughing and talking to each other as if the most beautiful boy in all the world wasn't broken just feet from them.
"He took it."
Fernando and Iker blink slowly, trying to process the words but not really wanting to. Iker suddenly feels sick to his stomach.
"Who took what, Sese?"
Sergio starts breathing quickly now, his eyes darting back and forth all over the inside of the car. He digs at his pants, at his belt of coins, at his sleeves.
"The... the farmer. He..." Sergio starts to cry again, tears falling steadily from his eyes and his voice is quivering and it's enough to make Iker's eyes burn. "He came out of the bathroom while I was paying and he looked angry. He said something to me when he went past but I couldn't hear him. A-and I went outside, you know? To wait for you guys. And... and... I unlocked the car and set the food down and..." He looks up at them, his eyes dark now, deep with shame, with fear, with something completely foreign to Iker and his heart sinks when he realizes that Sergio is looking straight past him, his eyes locked on Fernando. "He told me he knew I had money, that my 'little friend' had told him so. He told me to give him the money or he'd made me regret it. I told him no. I did, I promise I did. I tried. But he... he found a way. He took it. He took all of it."
They all three sit in silence and it slowly unravels Sergio, making him shove his hands up over his face, nails digging cruel scratches over his cheeks. Fernando and Iker both move for him immediately, both pulling at his hands to make him stop and he sobs so loudly they both jump.
"It's all my fault. It's all my fault. I let you down. You trusted me and I ruined it. You can get rid of me if you want. I deserve it. You can leave me here." He looks up and finds Iker's eyes first and his face crumples and Iker clutches at him, curling down over him and rocking him gently, only slightly annoyed by how Fernando is pressed against his back, by his thin fingers still shaky from sex and how they're petting Sergio anywhere they can reach. Iker pushes his face against the side of Sergio's, his mouth bumping against his ear. His eyes are up, staring murderously outside, obsessed with finding that man, with killing him with his bare hands.
"This is not your fault. I'm not leaving you anywhere. I am not leaving you. I would die protecting you, do you hear me?" Iker's voice is soft against Sergio's ear and he kisses it when Sergio nods. He lifts his head and tightens his arms around Sergio, turning around to meet Fernando's eyes and their expressions match exactly, both regretful, terrified, furious. Expectant. "How much do you have?"
"Thirty. From..." Fernando reaches into his pocket and pulls the money out, handing it over to Iker without question. Iker's mouth is thin and he takes the money, looking down at it like it's poison before pushing it into his backpocket. He looks Fernando over, at the bite marks on his freckled cheek, at the trail of teeth marks all the way down his neck, disappearing under the stretched out collar of his shirt. He sighs, feeling old suddenly, feeling irresponsible and like a criminal himself.
"Let's get going."
Fernando nods and Sergio does gently, easing himself up out of Iker's arms once again and wiping at his eyes. He looks undone, exhausted. Fernando stares at him worriedly, worming his way past Iker to get closer to Sergio and so Iker climbs out of the backseat, hazel eyes surveying the parkinglot, ready in a second's nose to take off running as soon as he sees a motorcycle, a dirty white shirt, a dangerous smile. Fernando wipes at Sergio's eyes, searching them as he helps him out of his clinky belt, out of his layers of shirts until he's bare-chested and Fernando wads all of them up to create a pillow for Sergio to rest his head on, stroking down his hair and his neck and shoulders to his scarred back, tendering the raised scars as Sergio slowly deflates, his eyes almost lifeless as he stares at the back of the seat. Iker opens the driver's side door and sinks into his seat, sighing heavily as he pulls the door closed, the familiar aches from sitting in just this position for so long coming back. Fernando leans down, not to meet Sergio's eyes but to get close enough to whisper.
"What did he do to you?"
Sergio's eyes don't change and he just shakes his head, fingers curling up tight around the shirt his head is resting on. Fernando brings his lips closed on Sergio's forehead, kissing it over and over again as Iker starts up the car, he kisses him until Iker has his seatbelt on and the radio on and he knows he has to move. He crawls over the console and into the passenger seat and Iker doesn't scold him for once. He puts the car into reverse and they drive out slowly, Iker's eyes peeled, staring at each and every person they pass. He's gritting his teeth and he will for the rest of his life associate that particular sensation with the desire for revenge.
The drive through southeast Pennsylvania is beautiful, the landscape pregnant with summer, a green so bright it doesn't seem real. The roads are long stretches, dividing up green fields, dotted by the occasional sound of rushing water from a nearby creek. Fernando spends at least an hour turned completely toward the window, his legs curled up in the seat, long, skinny arms folded on the open window, his chin resting on them so he can watch every single thing that passes. He doesn't even try to tame his hair that is being whipped around his face, the sharp but tiny stings as it lands on his cheeks unnoticed. His mind is with the boy in the backseat, the boy who is sleeping heavily and curled up, facing away from them, face buried against the back of the seat. Iker can see how tense Fernando's shoulders are, can sense all the thoughts in his head because they're the ones in his head, too. He looks in the rearview but can only see Sergio's hair lifting in the fast wind, can only see the slight curve of his half-bare hip. He rests his elbow on the windowsill, his hand rubbing his own face slowly, dragging over his scratchy cheeks, over his tight mouth. Fernando sighs suddenly and twists until he's sitting correctly in the seat again though he lifts his feet to rest them on the dashboard. Iker glances over at him but says nothing.
"So, Skynyrd, huh?"
Iker looks over at him, surprised. Fernando is staring straight ahead, at the sky that is turning from a bright, pure blue to the barest hints of yellow, the sunset imminent. He straightens his arm on the windowsill out and uses that hand to hold onto the wheel, turning his body slightly toward Fernando, free hand resting on his thigh.
"Yeah, I like 'em. Guilty pleasure, I guess."
"My Daddy knew one of 'em."
"One of who?"
"The boys in the band. Gary or Barry or somethin' like that. Used to come over and play the guitar from 'Free Bird' a lot."
Iker looks over at him in quick, astounded glances, his fingers dancing on his thigh.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Yeah. He was alright, I guess. A drinker just like the rest of 'em. Used to come over to get his 'shine."
"Moonshine?"
"Yeh. Grandaddy used to have a still on the back of the prop'rty. When he died, my Daddy took over. Started addin' flavors and made a good chunka change from it."
"Is that what he did for a living?"
"Mm-hmm." Fernando gives a humorless breath of laughter, his eyes unfocused in front of him. He glances over at Iker after a minute, offering him a self-depricating smile. "Honorable man, just like your Daddy."
Iker looks over at him from the corners of his eyes and smirks at him, shaking his head a little as "Free Bird" coincidentally started up.
"How'd he die?"
Fernando frowns then, long legs shifting on the dash.
"Gunshot."
"Whose gun?"
"His."
"Where?"
Fernando looks over at him fully, his voice matter-of-fact.
"In the head, of course."
"You miss him?"
He snorts then, an ugly sound to match his scowl.
"If I's gonna miss him, I wouldn'a done it."
Iker doesn't look over at him this time, he keeps his eyes straight ahead and only a guitar interrupts the silence. He reaches over and pushes his hand into the back of Fernando's hair, his fingers strong but gentle as he rubs his scalp. Fernando relaxes just a little, his jaw still set, staring straight ahead. They don't speak for a long time, the song coming and going, the wind a constant, moving thing all through the car, through their hair, their thoughts. Iker's hand finally comes to a stop but he keeps it on Fernando's neck, resting there comfortably, just present.
"If you could pick, where would you be right now and what would you be doing? Anything at all."
Fernando's face softens and his tiny smile makes Iker's wrist ache.
"You mean right now? This very minute?"
"Right now."
"Hm." Fernando falls silent in thought, his feet moving back and forth to the jangly guitar coming from the speakers. Iker wants to tell him that he can always tell a Southern boy by the way his feet move to music but he doesn't, doesn't want to disrupt his thoughts. "I wanna be in California. On the beach, in my big fuckin' beach house. I wanna be eatin' the biggest steak they can fit on the biggest grill in the world and lotsa mashed potatoes, with tons of garlic and butter. I want big, big glasses of Sprite and water. Ice cold water, that kinda crunchy ice you can get at Sonic. You know what Sonic is?"
Iker smiles straight ahead and nods. His fingers are petting Fernando's hair now without even realizing it. Fernando nods, satisfied.
"I wanna sit my scrawny ass down on my big ol' couch and play video games all day, all kinds of 'em. And when I get tired of it, I wanna go outside and sleep in my hammock right there on the beach, my private beach. No big-titted bimbos or muscle men on my beach. Just me. And I'll sleep til sun sets and then I'll go inside and there'll be hamburgers! Big, fat ones with lots of ketchup and pickles and cheese and chili cheese fries and some good, cold beer. And then I wanna watch a movie and then maybe get my dick sucked and then I wanna go to bed, in my big, fancy bed with those new blankets, you know the ones? Real soft?"
"Down comforters?"
"Yeah! A down comforter. No, no. Five of 'em. And lotsa pillows. And no fuckin' alarm clock."
"Whose gonna fix all the food and suck your dick?"
Fernando smiles, happy with his imaginary world and amused by Iker's question.
"Dunno. Some pretty boy I hire to take care of me. Or some big, strong man who can do all the repair jobs around the house. With an ass that looks good in tight jeans."
"Sounds like you've got it all figured out."
"I guess I do." He nods decisively, his hand bent at the wrist so he can rest his hand on top of it, staring out the window again. "What about you?"
"Mm." Iker rouses himself from his thoughts, tongue sliding over his lips as he puts some honest thought into this. "I wanna be back home, on my Momma's farm. I wanna get up real early in the morning before everybody else does, right when the sun's just rising and I want to take Amos out for a run."
"Who's Amos?"
"My horse. We'd go out into the hills and he'd drink from the creek and we'd go to the top of the highest hill and watch the sun rise. And we'd come back right when everybody else is getting up and I'd come in and Momma'd have breakfast made, scrambled eggs and grits and biscuits and gravy. Tall glasses of cool, cool milk. Nothing tastes better than fresh, cold milk."
Fernando nods and it's wistful and his eyes are faraway again, his smile a ghost.
"After breakfast I'd go find Angel and she'd probably have some idea of what the day should be like, what she wants to make me do and we'd do that. Playing with dolls or playing house or tea party or gatherin' strawberries or whatever it is she wants. She likes to lay in the grass in the backyard and watch the clouds. We'd argue about which was better to watch, clouds or stars. And she'd find pirate ships and hippo ballerinas in those clouds and maybe we'd fall asleep, right there in the grass. And Momma's voice would wake us up for lunch and we'd have chicken, maybe. Fried chicken with corn and green beans and big ol' slices of tomatoes. And strawberry pie for dessert, strawberries that me an' Angel picked. And then Ronnie'd tell me he wants to go play baseball down at the baseball diamond, and we'd spend the whole afternoon there, just a little game with the town boys and we'd beat the other boys so bad. And we'd come home for dinner, some kinda stew maybe, a good, thick stew with cornbread. And me and Momma would sit out on the porch swing while the sun set, just real quiet, watching Ang and Ron play in the yard. And I'd go to sleep real tired, that kind of tired where you're happy and you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow."
"How old is Angel?"
"She's eleven."
Fernando smiles and it's really nothing but tender.
"A little old to be playing with dolls, don't you think?"
Iker frowns, just a gentle turn down at the corners of his mouth, his foot pressing down on the gas just a little more, pushing them faster against the wind that whips and spins Fernando's bright white hair.
"This is my perfect day."
"I know." Fernando feels bad and he looks away from him, looking back out the window and his shoulders draw in a little. Iker's hand rubs his neck just once and he feels a little better, a little more heartened.
"We'll figure this out. Okay?"
Fernando nods a little and when Iker's hand squeezes softly again, he looks over and meets his eyes with a small smile.
"I know."
chapter eleven.