care to see my reason
title care to see my reason
word count 786
pairing sergio ramos/fernando torres
rating pg
summary the end of a season
prompt 02. middles
The end of the season feels wrong.
Not wrong in the usual way that not winning a game feels wrong, Sergio thinks, but wrong because he doesn’t feel any closure. It doesn’t feel like the end because it can’t be the end. He isn’t ready to quit fighting just yet.
He closes his eyes during the flight back to Madrid, not because he’s replaying the match in his head, like he usually does, but because he just doesn’t feel like talking. He knows he doesn’t really have to worry, Iker’s hardly ready for a chat, but it feels better this way, to drift in and out of an uneasy sleep during the short flight.
When they arrive back in Madrid, Sergio straightens his suit, tucks his hair back behind his ears, and keeps his chin up as they move through the airport, more a unit in weaving their way past fans than they were on the pitch. But it’s all they can do, now, and Sergio figures he might as well do it with some dignity. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders, and he can’t manage a smile but he feels like he’s done a pretty good job. He is a professional, he tells himself. He is Madrid. He still has pride in his team.
Even so, he’s relieved to get home and crumple against the doorframe for a minute.
He slumps. His shoulders cave in and he drops his chin to his chest and he sits for a minute, huddled in on himself. Then he takes a deep breath and goes into his room, drops his bag, and exchanges his suit for a pair of worn gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a hole in the collar.
Sergio’s a little surprised to discover that he doesn’t want to be alone, but he picks up his cell phone anyway and thumbs through his contacts, debating for a moment between Iker and Fernando.
“Hey, you around?”
It’s late, and he knows there’s a good chance Fernando’s already turned in for the evening, but it’s worth a try, because he also knows that Fernando will understand.
“Around being Madrid? Yeah, I’m around.”
Sergio’s doorbell rings twenty minutes later. He isn’t sure if anyone’s ever actually used the doorbell before.
Fernando looks tired. There are circles under his eyes and his skin is almost translucent underneath the freckles. An overwhelming urge to hug him comes crashing over Sergio, and he does, clinging hard. He isn’t sure when the hug turns from him comforting Fernando to Fernando comforting him, but he doesn’t question it. Like so many other things with Fernando, it’s just- right.
“You gonna invite me in or are we gonna stand here all night?” Fernando asks, his voice just the right shade of teasing, and Sergio tugs on his forearm until they’re inside the house.
Two beers and three movies later, Sergio is finally ready to talk. Like so many other times, Fernando beats him to it.
“It’s weird, being in the middle,” Fernando says, stretching and leaning back against the sofa.
“In the middle?” Sergio needs clarification, for once. Because Fernando is in the middle of so much- the middle of recovery, the middle of lovers, the middle of fatherhood.
“Between the season and the world cup,” Fernando mumbles, shrugging. “Like, I have my recovery plan, right? But then there’s also the national team training and I’m splitting time between Madrid and Liverpool, and it’s just weird.”
Sergio nods and tucks his head onto Fernando’s shoulder. Fernando’s arm comes up around him and strokes gently at his arm. He feels more settled now than he has all day.
“It’s like limbo,” he offers, the sound slightly muffled by Fernando’s neck. Fernando hums his agreement.
“Good limbo, though,” he says after a moment’s pause.
“Why?” Sergio’s forehead creases. “It’s like- all you can think about is what you just did, how you just failed, and what you’re about to do, and how you’d better not fail, and there’s so much pressure, I feel like I’m going crazy and it’s only the beginning!”
And it’s true. Sergio hasn’t realized exactly how hysterical he feels until this moment, tucked up into Fernando’s side, and he feels hysterical and calm at exactly the same time and it is bizarre.
“Well, yeah, there’s that,” Fernando says, laughing a little. He nudges Sergio’s cheek with his shoulder until Sergio picks his head up. Sergio blinks, once, twice, and Fernando reaches up to thumb Sergio’s chin up and kiss him, feather light. Sergio feels Fernando’s eyelashes sweep over his cheekbones, butterfly kisses. “But there’s also this, and that makes it good limbo.”
Sergio can’t argue with that kind of logic.
word count 786
pairing sergio ramos/fernando torres
rating pg
summary the end of a season
prompt 02. middles
The end of the season feels wrong.
Not wrong in the usual way that not winning a game feels wrong, Sergio thinks, but wrong because he doesn’t feel any closure. It doesn’t feel like the end because it can’t be the end. He isn’t ready to quit fighting just yet.
He closes his eyes during the flight back to Madrid, not because he’s replaying the match in his head, like he usually does, but because he just doesn’t feel like talking. He knows he doesn’t really have to worry, Iker’s hardly ready for a chat, but it feels better this way, to drift in and out of an uneasy sleep during the short flight.
When they arrive back in Madrid, Sergio straightens his suit, tucks his hair back behind his ears, and keeps his chin up as they move through the airport, more a unit in weaving their way past fans than they were on the pitch. But it’s all they can do, now, and Sergio figures he might as well do it with some dignity. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders, and he can’t manage a smile but he feels like he’s done a pretty good job. He is a professional, he tells himself. He is Madrid. He still has pride in his team.
Even so, he’s relieved to get home and crumple against the doorframe for a minute.
He slumps. His shoulders cave in and he drops his chin to his chest and he sits for a minute, huddled in on himself. Then he takes a deep breath and goes into his room, drops his bag, and exchanges his suit for a pair of worn gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a hole in the collar.
Sergio’s a little surprised to discover that he doesn’t want to be alone, but he picks up his cell phone anyway and thumbs through his contacts, debating for a moment between Iker and Fernando.
“Hey, you around?”
It’s late, and he knows there’s a good chance Fernando’s already turned in for the evening, but it’s worth a try, because he also knows that Fernando will understand.
“Around being Madrid? Yeah, I’m around.”
Sergio’s doorbell rings twenty minutes later. He isn’t sure if anyone’s ever actually used the doorbell before.
Fernando looks tired. There are circles under his eyes and his skin is almost translucent underneath the freckles. An overwhelming urge to hug him comes crashing over Sergio, and he does, clinging hard. He isn’t sure when the hug turns from him comforting Fernando to Fernando comforting him, but he doesn’t question it. Like so many other things with Fernando, it’s just- right.
“You gonna invite me in or are we gonna stand here all night?” Fernando asks, his voice just the right shade of teasing, and Sergio tugs on his forearm until they’re inside the house.
Two beers and three movies later, Sergio is finally ready to talk. Like so many other times, Fernando beats him to it.
“It’s weird, being in the middle,” Fernando says, stretching and leaning back against the sofa.
“In the middle?” Sergio needs clarification, for once. Because Fernando is in the middle of so much- the middle of recovery, the middle of lovers, the middle of fatherhood.
“Between the season and the world cup,” Fernando mumbles, shrugging. “Like, I have my recovery plan, right? But then there’s also the national team training and I’m splitting time between Madrid and Liverpool, and it’s just weird.”
Sergio nods and tucks his head onto Fernando’s shoulder. Fernando’s arm comes up around him and strokes gently at his arm. He feels more settled now than he has all day.
“It’s like limbo,” he offers, the sound slightly muffled by Fernando’s neck. Fernando hums his agreement.
“Good limbo, though,” he says after a moment’s pause.
“Why?” Sergio’s forehead creases. “It’s like- all you can think about is what you just did, how you just failed, and what you’re about to do, and how you’d better not fail, and there’s so much pressure, I feel like I’m going crazy and it’s only the beginning!”
And it’s true. Sergio hasn’t realized exactly how hysterical he feels until this moment, tucked up into Fernando’s side, and he feels hysterical and calm at exactly the same time and it is bizarre.
“Well, yeah, there’s that,” Fernando says, laughing a little. He nudges Sergio’s cheek with his shoulder until Sergio picks his head up. Sergio blinks, once, twice, and Fernando reaches up to thumb Sergio’s chin up and kiss him, feather light. Sergio feels Fernando’s eyelashes sweep over his cheekbones, butterfly kisses. “But there’s also this, and that makes it good limbo.”
Sergio can’t argue with that kind of logic.