Fic: Beautiful Game (STXI, K/S)
Title: Beautiful Game
Fandom: STXI
Pairing: K/S
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~800
Summary: Football AU. Kirk and Spock meet on opposing sides at the FIFA World Cup.
A/N: A little something to make up for the stupidity that was the end of the Brazil-Cote d'Ivoire match. This came out of the Toure/Drogba neck kiss.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Kirk kisses him every time they score a goal.
Usually on the cheek, but sometimes he misses and it lands on his jaw, right next to the lobe of his ear, and he can hear Jim's damp breaths on the sweaty skin there, a hotspot on Spock's already blood-warm body.
Kirk usually holds his arms, but when Spock has been the one to feed him the pass, he earns a full-body hug, from the front or the back, his captain's hand splayed out on his stomach or low down on his spine. Then the breaths come on the side of his neck -- not a kiss, but better: Jim smiling into his skin, so that Spock feels the sweet curve of his lips, sometimes the smooth coolness of his teeth.
*
Kirk is patriotic. When Spock puts on the bright blue of the Azzurri, he is proud to play for his country, but if he's truthful, it feels little different from what he wears when they are at Chelsea. Kirk, though, when he's playing for his national side, dogged and brilliant in his white jersey -- it's then that he truly comes into his own as one of the greatest living strikers in the world.
People say it's a shame, because Denmark is a good, but by no means a great footballing nation. But Kirk loves his country, its ideals and its history, and goes back to see his cousins and grandparents at Christmas each year, even though he hasn't lived there since he was scouted at only thirteen. He is captain there too -- he's a natural leader -- but to Spock's mind Kirk stands out from his teammates like a jaguar in a herd of Nordic horses. Everything about the way he plays -- the way he breathes -- seems to set him apart, and Spock has always thought Kirk too passionate, too fierce and too bright for the stolid Danish temperament.
Whatever the case, he can't look away from Kirk when he wears white.
*
When Kirk scores -- first goal for the Danish side in this World Cup -- he jumps and pumps the air and pulls his shirt half over his head. The fans holler cheerfully and Kirk is swiftly surrounded by teammates hugging him and clapping him on the back.
Spock, in the midfield, slows to a walk, and he uses the minutes to catch his breath while the rest of the Azzurri stand around and look sour. They have had a slow start to the tournament so far, and although they are still a goal up with only eight and a half minutes to go, it is clear that his countrymen -- to say nothing of his coaches -- are not pleased.
Spock is not too far from the celebratory circle, having played a bit more defensively as the game draws to a close. So when Kirk's head pops out of the huddle to grin at him, he sees it immediately, and nods back. Then Kirk ducks out from beneath Larsen's arm and the players disperse and jog back up the field for the goal kick.
Spock, too, turns to go, but then someone is gripping his arm from behind and pressing a hot, familiar kiss into the side of his neck.
His game is off for the rest of the match.
*
"What the dick were you doing out there, son?" Pica asks him in the changing room afterwards.
Spock looks up from folding his towel. The man sounds more concerned than truly annoyed: unlike some of the coaches Spock has played under before, he is more of a mentor than a drill sergeant, and Spock had not made any critical mistakes tonight in spite of his slight distraction. He knows that's not good enough, though, and Pica is right to call him on it. He meets narrowed grey eyes and shakes his head mutely. He doesn't like making excuses.
"Kirk throw you off?" the older man says shrewdly.
Spock looks down.
"Madonna mignotta," Pica mutters. He tugs at his tie. "You know better than this, Spock. Keep your head in the game--"
"Yes, sir."
"--and out of your pants. Or your heart, whatever you want to call it. What are you, anyway, a woman?"
*
In the end it doesn't matter, because Denmark are knocked out 2-0 by Brazil in the quarter final.
Spock watches from the TV in his hotel room as Kirk wanders off the pitch alone, shoulders slumped in exhaustion and disappointment. The Danes are not much for sobbing and tears, and he wishes he were there to hold Jim.
Italy beat Spain and advance to the semis. Everyone is elated, but Spock dreams he is back on the pitch at Stamford Bridge, running drills with his captain, or at that Hammersmith cafe where he drinks his green tea, and Jim laughs at him and tells him he's not a real Italian.
Fandom: STXI
Pairing: K/S
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~800
Summary: Football AU. Kirk and Spock meet on opposing sides at the FIFA World Cup.
A/N: A little something to make up for the stupidity that was the end of the Brazil-Cote d'Ivoire match. This came out of the Toure/Drogba neck kiss.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Kirk kisses him every time they score a goal.
Usually on the cheek, but sometimes he misses and it lands on his jaw, right next to the lobe of his ear, and he can hear Jim's damp breaths on the sweaty skin there, a hotspot on Spock's already blood-warm body.
Kirk usually holds his arms, but when Spock has been the one to feed him the pass, he earns a full-body hug, from the front or the back, his captain's hand splayed out on his stomach or low down on his spine. Then the breaths come on the side of his neck -- not a kiss, but better: Jim smiling into his skin, so that Spock feels the sweet curve of his lips, sometimes the smooth coolness of his teeth.
*
Kirk is patriotic. When Spock puts on the bright blue of the Azzurri, he is proud to play for his country, but if he's truthful, it feels little different from what he wears when they are at Chelsea. Kirk, though, when he's playing for his national side, dogged and brilliant in his white jersey -- it's then that he truly comes into his own as one of the greatest living strikers in the world.
People say it's a shame, because Denmark is a good, but by no means a great footballing nation. But Kirk loves his country, its ideals and its history, and goes back to see his cousins and grandparents at Christmas each year, even though he hasn't lived there since he was scouted at only thirteen. He is captain there too -- he's a natural leader -- but to Spock's mind Kirk stands out from his teammates like a jaguar in a herd of Nordic horses. Everything about the way he plays -- the way he breathes -- seems to set him apart, and Spock has always thought Kirk too passionate, too fierce and too bright for the stolid Danish temperament.
Whatever the case, he can't look away from Kirk when he wears white.
*
When Kirk scores -- first goal for the Danish side in this World Cup -- he jumps and pumps the air and pulls his shirt half over his head. The fans holler cheerfully and Kirk is swiftly surrounded by teammates hugging him and clapping him on the back.
Spock, in the midfield, slows to a walk, and he uses the minutes to catch his breath while the rest of the Azzurri stand around and look sour. They have had a slow start to the tournament so far, and although they are still a goal up with only eight and a half minutes to go, it is clear that his countrymen -- to say nothing of his coaches -- are not pleased.
Spock is not too far from the celebratory circle, having played a bit more defensively as the game draws to a close. So when Kirk's head pops out of the huddle to grin at him, he sees it immediately, and nods back. Then Kirk ducks out from beneath Larsen's arm and the players disperse and jog back up the field for the goal kick.
Spock, too, turns to go, but then someone is gripping his arm from behind and pressing a hot, familiar kiss into the side of his neck.
His game is off for the rest of the match.
*
"What the dick were you doing out there, son?" Pica asks him in the changing room afterwards.
Spock looks up from folding his towel. The man sounds more concerned than truly annoyed: unlike some of the coaches Spock has played under before, he is more of a mentor than a drill sergeant, and Spock had not made any critical mistakes tonight in spite of his slight distraction. He knows that's not good enough, though, and Pica is right to call him on it. He meets narrowed grey eyes and shakes his head mutely. He doesn't like making excuses.
"Kirk throw you off?" the older man says shrewdly.
Spock looks down.
"Madonna mignotta," Pica mutters. He tugs at his tie. "You know better than this, Spock. Keep your head in the game--"
"Yes, sir."
"--and out of your pants. Or your heart, whatever you want to call it. What are you, anyway, a woman?"
*
In the end it doesn't matter, because Denmark are knocked out 2-0 by Brazil in the quarter final.
Spock watches from the TV in his hotel room as Kirk wanders off the pitch alone, shoulders slumped in exhaustion and disappointment. The Danes are not much for sobbing and tears, and he wishes he were there to hold Jim.
Italy beat Spain and advance to the semis. Everyone is elated, but Spock dreams he is back on the pitch at Stamford Bridge, running drills with his captain, or at that Hammersmith cafe where he drinks his green tea, and Jim laughs at him and tells him he's not a real Italian.