they shine for you (second star to the right)
title they shine for you (second star to the right)
rating pg
pairing fernando torres/sergio ramos
warnings au. crack. all signs point to my insanity.
summary in which fernando is a space alien and sergio falls in love with him.
note THIS IS ALL NEDA'S FAULT. she said that if i wrote fic about the boys being aliens, she'd read it. well, here it is! BLAME HER. I DON'T COME UP WITH THIS SHIT ON MY OWN! jajajaja. so needless to say, dedicated to influira for enabling me. also, this was supposed to be cracky and funny, not long and...well. you know. oops? anyway, the summary is completely serious. fernando is a space alien. sergio falls in love with him. they spend most of their time in a hammock. who knew?
Sergio is perfectly content to think that Earth is the only planet that supports life. It isn’t something he dwells on, of course, he’s a chef, not an astrologist, but on the rare occasion that he does, he just can’t fathom it. Life here, he thinks, is enough. There’s enough to figure out here on Earth, with humankind, that he can’t even imagine wasting time trying to find life elsewhere. He is perfectly content to walk down the streets of his neighborhood in Sevilla and try to get to know the women in the market and go to football matches and become friends with the fans he sits next to. There is enough to live for here, he knows, that there can’t possibly be other life. As vast as the universe is, Sergio knows that this, this is enough.
---
It happens at a party.
Honestly, that isn’t how most of Sergio’s stories start. He can be as social as the next person, but most nights he prefers to go out with a few friends and have some good wine and then go home and fall asleep in the hammock in the tiny yard he and his roommate Jesús Navas share with two other families. The hammock takes up most of the room, but the little boys in the apartment above them don’t seem to mind, so their parents are okay with it, and the old couple on the first floor never uses the yard, so Sergio and Jesús mostly ignore them.
But this story starts at a party. René’s party, to be exact, so when Sergio gets to his brother’s house, a drink is put in his hand and he sits down to happily mingle with people he’s known since he was born, or at least since he started school. At some point, someone, one of Mirian’s friends, he thinks, asks him where Jesús is, so Sergio pulls out his cell phone.
“Where are you, man? René wants you here, you know that, right?”
It’s then that Sergio’s brother appears and drapes an arm over Sergio’s shoulders. He’s drunk; Sergio can tell by the way he tilts his head towards Sergio and how his steps are smaller than usual, as if he’s trying to keep his balance. “Is that Jesús? Tell him to get his ass over here,” René says sweetly. Sergio laughs and relays the message.
“He’s coming,” he tells his brother, hanging up. René grins and claps him on the back and stumbles off to greet his other guests.
Sergio, for his part, steps out to the patio to get some air.
There’s a guy. He’s standing a few feet away from the steps of the patio and he’s just- looking at the house. Sergio isn’t close enough to see his facial expression, but the way he holds himself is odd, at best. Shoulders perfectly straight, feet exactly shoulder width apart. Sergio can’t put his finger on it, but he’s a little unnerved.
“Hey,” he says cautiously, sitting down on the steps. He wonders if the guy knows René, or if he’s maybe Mirian’s latest boyfriend. Or maybe he’s just lost.
“Hello,” the guy says. His voice is quiet and deep, deeper than Sergio had expected. He takes a cautious step forward, just enough to be thrown into sharp relief by the patio lights, and then stops, as if he isn’t sure that was what he’s supposed to do. Sergio tilts his head, curious.
“You know René?” The guy just blinks. “Or Mirian?”
“No, I do not,” the guy says after a moment’s pause, just long enough to be awkward. Sergio chews on his lips while he and the guy study each other. His hair is yellow blond but the roots are dark, and his skin is pale enough to be luminescent. His eyes are big and wide and he doesn’t blink a lot.
“Okay,” Sergio says, finally. “Well, I’m Sergio.”
The guy clears his throat. “I am Fernando,” he offers. Sergio stands up and holds his hand out. Fernando stares at it and makes no move to offer his own, so Sergio shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth for a moment.
“You here for any specific purpose?” He’s never felt quite this awkward around someone before. Sergio is the master of deflecting awkward silences, drawing the most reserved folks out of their shells. He works in a restaurant. He finished high school and that has always been enough for him because he knows three things and he knows them well: food, football, and people. This guy, though; Sergio can’t figure him out.
Fernando doesn’t answer. Sergio gives him a minute, but when it becomes apparent that he actually just isn’t going to answer, he sighs.
“Come on in,” he offers, heading back up the steps to open the door. He turns around to see if Fernando followed, and-
“Woah, take a step back, man,” he says, startled. Fernando is practically pressed against his back, he’s standing so close. Sergio could count individual eyelashes, if he wanted to.
“I am sorry,” Fernando apologizes, and he looks so downcast and disappointed that Sergio feels like he kicked a puppy.
“Sorry, it’s just- it’s not bad, just startling, you know?” He offers a small smile, and the one Fernando replies with is so dazzling Sergio almost feels like he has to look away. A warm, fuzzy feeling settles over him, and he isn’t sure if it’s the smile or the beer, so he laughs, instead.
All of a sudden, Sergio feels like going inside wouldn’t be a good idea. He figures- how can he bring a guy so obviously uncomfortable talking to even just one person into a party full of René’s drunken friends? He steps back away from the door.
“Can I give you directions somewhere?” Sergio doesn’t know what it is. It’s the same feeling he had when he first saw the guy, that something was just off about him, except now it’s a weird, protective feeling. He wants to make sure Fernando gets home safely, or if not home, then to wherever he’s staying. He wants to make sure Fernando is okay, whatever that entails. It’s ridiculous, Sergio knows.
“Directions?” Fernando blinks at him, twice, and Sergio has kind of gotten used to Fernando not blinking, in the ten minutes or so that they’ve known each other, so it’s a little startling.
“Where are you staying?”
“Oh,” Fernando looks down. “I do not know.” He bites his lower lip, an exact imitation of what Sergio had done just a few minutes earlier.
“Okay,” Sergio says slowly. “Well. My place is kind of small but if you want, you could…”
Fernando smiles again, bright and brilliant, and Sergio figures that it’s okay that he didn’t know what he was thinking when he offered.
---
They don’t do a grand tour. Instead they go into the living room and Sergio tells Fernando to make himself comfortable. Fernando stands in the middle of the room with his arms awkwardly at his sides and just looks around, the way he had just stood and looked at René’s house earlier.
Sergio leaves him for a moment and goes over to the tiny kitchen. He pulls out two mugs and makes them both some coffee, tapping his fingers on the counter as the water boils. When the coffee’s finally ready, he takes both mugs and heads back out into the living room.
Fernando hasn’t moved. He’s just looking- Sergio thinks he might be reading the spines of the books on Jesús’s bookshelf, but he isn’t sure. Sergio stands in the doorway for a moment and now, inside, under proper lights, Sergio can see that Fernando’s skin is literally flawless- not a mark or blemish in sight, except for the dark circles under his eyes. His lips are curved nicely and his jaw line isn’t strong but the line of his cheekbones is.
Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Sergio steps towards Fernando, offering him a mug.
They sit on the couch quietly, sipping their coffee, and after a while, the silence thaws out a little bit.
“It is a nice home,” Fernando offers. His voice is small now, but still just as surprisingly low, and Sergio feels some kind of warmth settle in the pit of his belly.
“Thanks,” he replies easily. “It’s kind of small, but me and Jesús like it, so that’s what matters, I guess.”
“Jesús?” Fernando’s eyes go wide. “Cristo?”
Sergio laughs. Then he sees the absolute disappointment and confusion and mortification in Fernando’s eyes and he stifles it. He never wants Fernando to look like that again. “No,” he says, finally. “I mean, I guess that’s who his parents named him after, but Jesús is just a guy. We’ve been friends for ages, he’s in school now, but. Just a guy.”
“Oh,” Fernando says. “I am sorry for assuming.”
Sergio puts his hand on Fernando’s thigh. It’s just- It’s what he needs. Sergio can tell. And sure enough, Fernando relaxes. The muscles in his thigh relax and then he unclenches his jaw and his whole body slumps a little bit. Sergio feels unbearably relieved. “It’s okay,” he tells Fernando.
After a while, they go into Sergio’s bedroom, and Sergio closes the door behind them. They sleep together only in the literal sense, because, again, Sergio knows that that’s what Fernando needs. He needs contact. Sergio has discovered in the past few hours that the longer he goes without touching the blond boy, the tenser Fernando becomes. So instead of making up the pull-out couch, Sergio pulls Fernando into his own bed and folds his body around Fernando’s. They fall asleep like that, just holding on to each other.
And if Sergio presses his lips to the base of Fernando’s neck, just to because he wants to, after he’s sure Fernando’s asleep, well, he isn’t hurting anybody.
---
Sergio wakes up and his bed is empty.
He jerks himself up and stumbles out of the bedroom without bothering to put a shirt on. The living room is empty. Jesús’s door is open, and his room is empty.
But in the kitchen, Jesús and Fernando are sitting at the tiny table. Just sitting, not saying anything. Fernando sips a mug of coffee -Sergio suspects it’s the mug he made last night- and Jesús eats a plate of eggs. Sergio rubs his eyes and then looks back up to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.
“You want me to make you a new cup? That can’t taste good,” he offers Fernando.
“Oh,” Fernando looks down at the mug. He’s like a child getting caught accidentally spilling something- the look on his face is pure I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to, but Sergio is much more convinced by Fernando than he is by any of the neighborhood kids. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
---
Over the next few days, Sergio forces Fernando to get out of the house. They go to Sergio’s restaurant, and Sergio lets Fernando sit on the counter where he’d usually do prep work and keeps him nibbling on various foods until it’s time for the actual dinner rush. They go to the market, where Sergio buys fish for his mother, and they stop by the university to coerce Jesús into skipping class and going to a football match. They go to the match, and Fernando doesn’t have to say that he’s never been to one before. The way his eyes get wide when one of the wingers scores and he claps his hands together not in pride or disappointment like everyone else in the stadium, but in pure, unbridled joy is telling enough. Sergio buys him a Sevilla jersey on their way out and the smile he gets in return makes him think nobody’s ever bought Fernando a present.
They go to Sergio’s mother’s house, where Paqui discovers that Fernando’s never eaten pescado frito, so she cooks up a storm and Mirian comes over and they all drink a little too much wine.
Sergio takes Fernando to the hammock and they lie together under the wide, expansive sky, bodies curled together. Sergio thumbs Fernando’s chin up and takes a deep breath before he brushes their lips together. It’s soft, chaste, even, just a press of lips, nothing more. When Sergio pulls back, Fernando’s eyes have fluttered closed. Sergio brushes his thumb over Fernando’s cheekbones and sees that there is a smattering of freckles across Fernando’s face. He looks closer and sees that freckles have sprung up everywhere- no longer is Fernando’s skin unmarred. Sergio likes it better this way.
When Fernando opens his eyes, they are shiny and big and Sergio doesn’t have to ask to know that it was his first kiss.
---
“Where are you from?”
Fernando is peeling an apple. He stops with the knife dangerously close to his thumb and Sergio barely resists the urge to take it out of his hand.
“I just mean- You’ve seen basically my entire life here, my family, my house, my restaurant, everything, and I just. I don’t know anything about you,” Sergio explains. Fernando bites his lip and manages to look a little less like a deer in headlights. “You don’t have to tell me,” Sergio says after a long moment.
Fernando shakes his head. “No, I. I will. You have done so much for me, so it’s only fair.”
Sergio doesn’t exactly agree with that logic, but he nods for Fernando to continue.
Except what Fernando does is put the apple and the knife down and point out the window. “I am from there,” he says. His voice is soft and scared, reminding Sergio once more of a little child.
“Yeah, but where?”
“There.” Fernando points again. Sergio shakes his head and holds up his hands. Fernando takes him by the wrist and together they go out to the hammock. Sergio lies down first and pulls Fernando on top of him, as has become their habit. Once they’re settled in, he nudges Fernando’s cheek with his nose and raises his eyebrow.
Fernando points again. “See? There.”
Sergio follows the line of Fernando’s arm and sees nothing but stars. “What, like, second star the right and straight on ‘till morning? What are you talking about?”
Fernando blushes. It’s dark out, but Sergio can tell. He squeezes his arms a little harder around Fernando’s torso, steady and reassuring. “Yeah,” Fernando replies. “Except it’s the third to the left and then three ahead, not straight on ‘till morning.” Sergio can practically hear the air quotes in his voice and he smiles for a minute before the absurdity of Fernando’s words sink in.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? You aren’t high or drunk, you’re actually serious.”
Fernando bites his lip, but this time it’s a sad gesture. He makes to get out of the hammock and, out of confusion more than anything else, Sergio halfway lets him. “I will leave now,” Fernando says, and his deep voice is caught in his throat. Sergio suspects he is holding back tears. “I am sorry.”
Sergio tightens his arms around Fernando again and the boy -alien? Sergio doesn’t know. Nor, it occurs to him, does he really care- falls back against him. The hammock creaks. “Don’t be sorry.” Sergio kisses Fernando, full of intent. “And don’t leave.”
---
They tell Jesús, but not anyone else. Sergio figures that if your roommate’s new live-in boyfriend is an alien, you kind of deserve to know.
“Holy shit,” Jesús says. Sergio is privately surprised he didn’t spit out his mouthful of falafel. Sergio had brought food as a peace offering. “Wait,” Jesús looks at Fernando, up and down. “Is that why you thought I was Jesús, like, Cristo?”
Fernando blushes and Sergio pokes him in the ribs and knows that everything’s going to be alright.
---
“Won’t they miss you? Back home?”
Fernando shakes his head and burrows under the covers. Sergio chases him and comes up with an armful of wriggling Fernando- it’s easier, he thinks, to not think about it. Fernando is Fernando, and as far as he is concerned, that’s the end of it.
“I was the only one.”
It strikes Sergio that he is awfully lucky, to have fallen in love with the only alien in the universe.
rating pg
pairing fernando torres/sergio ramos
warnings au. crack. all signs point to my insanity.
summary in which fernando is a space alien and sergio falls in love with him.
note THIS IS ALL NEDA'S FAULT. she said that if i wrote fic about the boys being aliens, she'd read it. well, here it is! BLAME HER. I DON'T COME UP WITH THIS SHIT ON MY OWN! jajajaja. so needless to say, dedicated to influira for enabling me. also, this was supposed to be cracky and funny, not long and...well. you know. oops? anyway, the summary is completely serious. fernando is a space alien. sergio falls in love with him. they spend most of their time in a hammock. who knew?
Sergio is perfectly content to think that Earth is the only planet that supports life. It isn’t something he dwells on, of course, he’s a chef, not an astrologist, but on the rare occasion that he does, he just can’t fathom it. Life here, he thinks, is enough. There’s enough to figure out here on Earth, with humankind, that he can’t even imagine wasting time trying to find life elsewhere. He is perfectly content to walk down the streets of his neighborhood in Sevilla and try to get to know the women in the market and go to football matches and become friends with the fans he sits next to. There is enough to live for here, he knows, that there can’t possibly be other life. As vast as the universe is, Sergio knows that this, this is enough.
---
It happens at a party.
Honestly, that isn’t how most of Sergio’s stories start. He can be as social as the next person, but most nights he prefers to go out with a few friends and have some good wine and then go home and fall asleep in the hammock in the tiny yard he and his roommate Jesús Navas share with two other families. The hammock takes up most of the room, but the little boys in the apartment above them don’t seem to mind, so their parents are okay with it, and the old couple on the first floor never uses the yard, so Sergio and Jesús mostly ignore them.
But this story starts at a party. René’s party, to be exact, so when Sergio gets to his brother’s house, a drink is put in his hand and he sits down to happily mingle with people he’s known since he was born, or at least since he started school. At some point, someone, one of Mirian’s friends, he thinks, asks him where Jesús is, so Sergio pulls out his cell phone.
“Where are you, man? René wants you here, you know that, right?”
It’s then that Sergio’s brother appears and drapes an arm over Sergio’s shoulders. He’s drunk; Sergio can tell by the way he tilts his head towards Sergio and how his steps are smaller than usual, as if he’s trying to keep his balance. “Is that Jesús? Tell him to get his ass over here,” René says sweetly. Sergio laughs and relays the message.
“He’s coming,” he tells his brother, hanging up. René grins and claps him on the back and stumbles off to greet his other guests.
Sergio, for his part, steps out to the patio to get some air.
There’s a guy. He’s standing a few feet away from the steps of the patio and he’s just- looking at the house. Sergio isn’t close enough to see his facial expression, but the way he holds himself is odd, at best. Shoulders perfectly straight, feet exactly shoulder width apart. Sergio can’t put his finger on it, but he’s a little unnerved.
“Hey,” he says cautiously, sitting down on the steps. He wonders if the guy knows René, or if he’s maybe Mirian’s latest boyfriend. Or maybe he’s just lost.
“Hello,” the guy says. His voice is quiet and deep, deeper than Sergio had expected. He takes a cautious step forward, just enough to be thrown into sharp relief by the patio lights, and then stops, as if he isn’t sure that was what he’s supposed to do. Sergio tilts his head, curious.
“You know René?” The guy just blinks. “Or Mirian?”
“No, I do not,” the guy says after a moment’s pause, just long enough to be awkward. Sergio chews on his lips while he and the guy study each other. His hair is yellow blond but the roots are dark, and his skin is pale enough to be luminescent. His eyes are big and wide and he doesn’t blink a lot.
“Okay,” Sergio says, finally. “Well, I’m Sergio.”
The guy clears his throat. “I am Fernando,” he offers. Sergio stands up and holds his hand out. Fernando stares at it and makes no move to offer his own, so Sergio shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth for a moment.
“You here for any specific purpose?” He’s never felt quite this awkward around someone before. Sergio is the master of deflecting awkward silences, drawing the most reserved folks out of their shells. He works in a restaurant. He finished high school and that has always been enough for him because he knows three things and he knows them well: food, football, and people. This guy, though; Sergio can’t figure him out.
Fernando doesn’t answer. Sergio gives him a minute, but when it becomes apparent that he actually just isn’t going to answer, he sighs.
“Come on in,” he offers, heading back up the steps to open the door. He turns around to see if Fernando followed, and-
“Woah, take a step back, man,” he says, startled. Fernando is practically pressed against his back, he’s standing so close. Sergio could count individual eyelashes, if he wanted to.
“I am sorry,” Fernando apologizes, and he looks so downcast and disappointed that Sergio feels like he kicked a puppy.
“Sorry, it’s just- it’s not bad, just startling, you know?” He offers a small smile, and the one Fernando replies with is so dazzling Sergio almost feels like he has to look away. A warm, fuzzy feeling settles over him, and he isn’t sure if it’s the smile or the beer, so he laughs, instead.
All of a sudden, Sergio feels like going inside wouldn’t be a good idea. He figures- how can he bring a guy so obviously uncomfortable talking to even just one person into a party full of René’s drunken friends? He steps back away from the door.
“Can I give you directions somewhere?” Sergio doesn’t know what it is. It’s the same feeling he had when he first saw the guy, that something was just off about him, except now it’s a weird, protective feeling. He wants to make sure Fernando gets home safely, or if not home, then to wherever he’s staying. He wants to make sure Fernando is okay, whatever that entails. It’s ridiculous, Sergio knows.
“Directions?” Fernando blinks at him, twice, and Sergio has kind of gotten used to Fernando not blinking, in the ten minutes or so that they’ve known each other, so it’s a little startling.
“Where are you staying?”
“Oh,” Fernando looks down. “I do not know.” He bites his lower lip, an exact imitation of what Sergio had done just a few minutes earlier.
“Okay,” Sergio says slowly. “Well. My place is kind of small but if you want, you could…”
Fernando smiles again, bright and brilliant, and Sergio figures that it’s okay that he didn’t know what he was thinking when he offered.
---
They don’t do a grand tour. Instead they go into the living room and Sergio tells Fernando to make himself comfortable. Fernando stands in the middle of the room with his arms awkwardly at his sides and just looks around, the way he had just stood and looked at René’s house earlier.
Sergio leaves him for a moment and goes over to the tiny kitchen. He pulls out two mugs and makes them both some coffee, tapping his fingers on the counter as the water boils. When the coffee’s finally ready, he takes both mugs and heads back out into the living room.
Fernando hasn’t moved. He’s just looking- Sergio thinks he might be reading the spines of the books on Jesús’s bookshelf, but he isn’t sure. Sergio stands in the doorway for a moment and now, inside, under proper lights, Sergio can see that Fernando’s skin is literally flawless- not a mark or blemish in sight, except for the dark circles under his eyes. His lips are curved nicely and his jaw line isn’t strong but the line of his cheekbones is.
Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Sergio steps towards Fernando, offering him a mug.
They sit on the couch quietly, sipping their coffee, and after a while, the silence thaws out a little bit.
“It is a nice home,” Fernando offers. His voice is small now, but still just as surprisingly low, and Sergio feels some kind of warmth settle in the pit of his belly.
“Thanks,” he replies easily. “It’s kind of small, but me and Jesús like it, so that’s what matters, I guess.”
“Jesús?” Fernando’s eyes go wide. “Cristo?”
Sergio laughs. Then he sees the absolute disappointment and confusion and mortification in Fernando’s eyes and he stifles it. He never wants Fernando to look like that again. “No,” he says, finally. “I mean, I guess that’s who his parents named him after, but Jesús is just a guy. We’ve been friends for ages, he’s in school now, but. Just a guy.”
“Oh,” Fernando says. “I am sorry for assuming.”
Sergio puts his hand on Fernando’s thigh. It’s just- It’s what he needs. Sergio can tell. And sure enough, Fernando relaxes. The muscles in his thigh relax and then he unclenches his jaw and his whole body slumps a little bit. Sergio feels unbearably relieved. “It’s okay,” he tells Fernando.
After a while, they go into Sergio’s bedroom, and Sergio closes the door behind them. They sleep together only in the literal sense, because, again, Sergio knows that that’s what Fernando needs. He needs contact. Sergio has discovered in the past few hours that the longer he goes without touching the blond boy, the tenser Fernando becomes. So instead of making up the pull-out couch, Sergio pulls Fernando into his own bed and folds his body around Fernando’s. They fall asleep like that, just holding on to each other.
And if Sergio presses his lips to the base of Fernando’s neck, just to because he wants to, after he’s sure Fernando’s asleep, well, he isn’t hurting anybody.
---
Sergio wakes up and his bed is empty.
He jerks himself up and stumbles out of the bedroom without bothering to put a shirt on. The living room is empty. Jesús’s door is open, and his room is empty.
But in the kitchen, Jesús and Fernando are sitting at the tiny table. Just sitting, not saying anything. Fernando sips a mug of coffee -Sergio suspects it’s the mug he made last night- and Jesús eats a plate of eggs. Sergio rubs his eyes and then looks back up to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.
“You want me to make you a new cup? That can’t taste good,” he offers Fernando.
“Oh,” Fernando looks down at the mug. He’s like a child getting caught accidentally spilling something- the look on his face is pure I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to, but Sergio is much more convinced by Fernando than he is by any of the neighborhood kids. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
---
Over the next few days, Sergio forces Fernando to get out of the house. They go to Sergio’s restaurant, and Sergio lets Fernando sit on the counter where he’d usually do prep work and keeps him nibbling on various foods until it’s time for the actual dinner rush. They go to the market, where Sergio buys fish for his mother, and they stop by the university to coerce Jesús into skipping class and going to a football match. They go to the match, and Fernando doesn’t have to say that he’s never been to one before. The way his eyes get wide when one of the wingers scores and he claps his hands together not in pride or disappointment like everyone else in the stadium, but in pure, unbridled joy is telling enough. Sergio buys him a Sevilla jersey on their way out and the smile he gets in return makes him think nobody’s ever bought Fernando a present.
They go to Sergio’s mother’s house, where Paqui discovers that Fernando’s never eaten pescado frito, so she cooks up a storm and Mirian comes over and they all drink a little too much wine.
Sergio takes Fernando to the hammock and they lie together under the wide, expansive sky, bodies curled together. Sergio thumbs Fernando’s chin up and takes a deep breath before he brushes their lips together. It’s soft, chaste, even, just a press of lips, nothing more. When Sergio pulls back, Fernando’s eyes have fluttered closed. Sergio brushes his thumb over Fernando’s cheekbones and sees that there is a smattering of freckles across Fernando’s face. He looks closer and sees that freckles have sprung up everywhere- no longer is Fernando’s skin unmarred. Sergio likes it better this way.
When Fernando opens his eyes, they are shiny and big and Sergio doesn’t have to ask to know that it was his first kiss.
---
“Where are you from?”
Fernando is peeling an apple. He stops with the knife dangerously close to his thumb and Sergio barely resists the urge to take it out of his hand.
“I just mean- You’ve seen basically my entire life here, my family, my house, my restaurant, everything, and I just. I don’t know anything about you,” Sergio explains. Fernando bites his lip and manages to look a little less like a deer in headlights. “You don’t have to tell me,” Sergio says after a long moment.
Fernando shakes his head. “No, I. I will. You have done so much for me, so it’s only fair.”
Sergio doesn’t exactly agree with that logic, but he nods for Fernando to continue.
Except what Fernando does is put the apple and the knife down and point out the window. “I am from there,” he says. His voice is soft and scared, reminding Sergio once more of a little child.
“Yeah, but where?”
“There.” Fernando points again. Sergio shakes his head and holds up his hands. Fernando takes him by the wrist and together they go out to the hammock. Sergio lies down first and pulls Fernando on top of him, as has become their habit. Once they’re settled in, he nudges Fernando’s cheek with his nose and raises his eyebrow.
Fernando points again. “See? There.”
Sergio follows the line of Fernando’s arm and sees nothing but stars. “What, like, second star the right and straight on ‘till morning? What are you talking about?”
Fernando blushes. It’s dark out, but Sergio can tell. He squeezes his arms a little harder around Fernando’s torso, steady and reassuring. “Yeah,” Fernando replies. “Except it’s the third to the left and then three ahead, not straight on ‘till morning.” Sergio can practically hear the air quotes in his voice and he smiles for a minute before the absurdity of Fernando’s words sink in.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? You aren’t high or drunk, you’re actually serious.”
Fernando bites his lip, but this time it’s a sad gesture. He makes to get out of the hammock and, out of confusion more than anything else, Sergio halfway lets him. “I will leave now,” Fernando says, and his deep voice is caught in his throat. Sergio suspects he is holding back tears. “I am sorry.”
Sergio tightens his arms around Fernando again and the boy -alien? Sergio doesn’t know. Nor, it occurs to him, does he really care- falls back against him. The hammock creaks. “Don’t be sorry.” Sergio kisses Fernando, full of intent. “And don’t leave.”
---
They tell Jesús, but not anyone else. Sergio figures that if your roommate’s new live-in boyfriend is an alien, you kind of deserve to know.
“Holy shit,” Jesús says. Sergio is privately surprised he didn’t spit out his mouthful of falafel. Sergio had brought food as a peace offering. “Wait,” Jesús looks at Fernando, up and down. “Is that why you thought I was Jesús, like, Cristo?”
Fernando blushes and Sergio pokes him in the ribs and knows that everything’s going to be alright.
---
“Won’t they miss you? Back home?”
Fernando shakes his head and burrows under the covers. Sergio chases him and comes up with an armful of wriggling Fernando- it’s easier, he thinks, to not think about it. Fernando is Fernando, and as far as he is concerned, that’s the end of it.
“I was the only one.”
It strikes Sergio that he is awfully lucky, to have fallen in love with the only alien in the universe.