2
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio watched Madrid tie Valencia from the bench.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He was originally supposed to start, but once he arrived at the Mirasierra for concentration, Mourinho pulled him and Marcelo aside and said there had been a change of plans. Marcelo would be starting now and Fábio would be a substitute. He handed Fábio a new copy of the starting eleven and their positions before turning to Marcelo to give him a brief rundown of the changes. Marcelo shot him a puzzled glance as he leaned in to look at the Mister’s notes.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The game was flat from Madrid’s side. It was like the players were having a hard time communicating, and a lack of motivation kept the team from accomplishing much. If it wasn’t for Pipa, it would have been a straight loss, and as it is, Madrid was lucky to have come away with a tie.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio could see the frustration of the players in the locker room. Cris wore his clearly all over his face. He was already rehashing the match in his head, beating himself up about the should-have and could-have’s. Fábio walks over to his bench and quietly sits next to him, not saying anything. He’s a professional, he knows a loss is a loss and a tie is a loss of two points, and he knows that empty platitudes never make anyone feel better. He’s just there for Cris.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cristiano smiles gratefully when he sees him. Fábio drops a hand onto the other man’s knee and squeezes gently. They listen to Mourinho and Aitor’s post-match speech side by side.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio goes home to his own empty house and collapses on the bed. He finally checks his phone. He’s got two missed calls, one from Andreia and one from a relative. He gives his ex-girlfriend a call first, splayed out on his pillow with his eyes closed. They talk for a while, catching up on each other’s lives before she puts Vitória on the line. Since they’ve broken up, Andreia keeps custody of their daughter during the regular season. Fábio gets visits, and gets her during breaks and some stoppages, but usually he only hears from her on the phone or on Skype.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He lets his daughter babble at him, just relishing in hearing her voice. Once Andreia comes back on and they hang up, he calls back his older brother, and hops in the shower. Even though he didn’t play at all, it feels nice to get clean and just stand in the spray with his eyes closed.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He heads to Cris’s when he’s done, because there’s not much to do in his empty house. Cris had given him his own set of keys a while back, so he unlocks the gate and slips inside. Dolores had been by earlier to drop off little Cristiano and some food, so when he walks in the house is full of laughter and the smell of good cooking wafts through the air.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He finds them in the kitchen, little Cris sitting on the countertop as he watches his father opening Tupperware containers and serving dinner onto plates (two big plates and one little colorful plate; Fábio’s heart swells). They both look up when he walks in, and Junior cries out happily “Papá Fábio! Papá!” He kicks his little feet against the cabinets and demands to be put on the ground. Cristiano laughs and rounds the island, stopping in front of Fábio to give him a big ‘welcome home’ kiss. Junior kicks his feet again when he sees them taking too long and yells at Cris, “Pai! Floor! I wanna say hi to papá!” Fábio pulls away with a laugh and Cris just looks at him, a soft smile on his face as he gently swipes a thumb over the scar on the other man’s cheek in greeting.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He turns around. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t you love me, Cris? You weren’t this excited when you saw me earlier.” Cris makes a sad puppy face, but Junior is immune. He simply holds his arms out. Cris sighs jokingly and picks him up of the counter and Junior is already squirming by the time Cris puts him down. He runs to Fábio. “Up!” he laughs.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio crouches down and plants a big kiss on Junior’s cheek before he picks him up and puts him on his hip.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Junior gives him a kiss, too. “Where were you today papá? I didn’t see you,” he asks with big eyes.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“I was at the game with your pai,” Fábio answers with a smile, not really understanding.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“But I didn’t see you! You didn’t play today!” he insists.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Yeah, I was on the bench today. The coach didn’t need me to play today.” Cris and Fábio exchange a look. Fábio sets Junior back on the countertop (the kid is heavy for a two year old!) but wraps his arm around him as he leans back to watch Cris finish serving.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Are you sad?” Junior asks, kicking his little feet again.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“About what? About not playing?” Junior nods. “Uh, a little bit. I’m always sad when I don’t play. But it’s ok.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“You gotta play! I don’t like to see papá sad.” Fábio laughs at that.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“I don’t like to see papá sad either!” Cris pipes up from the other side of the kitchen. “We’re gonna make sure papá plays next game, OK? Dinner’s served. And once we’re done eating we’re going to put you to bed, little man. It’s way past your bedtime.” Little Cris lets out a wail of protest at the thought of going to sleep.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">As soon as he’s out of Junior’s room with the door softly closed behind him, Cristiano feels arms wrapping around his waist and suddenly he’s being thrown up against the wall. His shoulders thud and Fábio presses against him, holding him in place as his lips slant over Cris’s. Cris turns his head away.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Easy there, tiger. I just put him to sleep.” His breath is coming a bit shorter. He’d seen the looks Fábio was shooting him over dinner, and the way Fábio had been watching him bathe Junior, shirt wet and sticking to his body, before Fábio abruptly left the bathroom.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio laughs and Cris feels it on his neck. “OK, quietly,” he whispers. He stands back so Cris can get up off the wall and he curls a finger into the other man’s belt loop, dragging him down the hall to the bedroom.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">If there’s one thing that Fábio knows about Cris, is that the man loves to be in control. The captain of Portugal, he is in control of a team that trusts him one hundred percent, of the country that places all its hopes on him. Even in Madrid, he controls the outcomes of matches with the goals he scores or doesn’t. Everything from his image, to his contracts, to the images printed of his son is tightly controlled. Fábio knows all of this.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">But if there’s one thing he knows that Cris loves more than being in control, it’s having that control ripped away from him. In bed. By Fábio.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Because in bed, he’s not the only hope of Portugal, or Madrid’s goal machine. In bed, Fábio holds him down, presses his wrists above his head, and does what he wants (what he knows Cris wants). Fábio drives him crazy and the normally proud Cristiano Ronaldo is reduced to begging, pleading, moaning, screaming Fábio’s name.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">It’s these moments that Fábio keeps for himself, locked up in his memory. This is what he thinks about when he sees Cristiano Ronaldo on a Nike ad, or leading the huddle in Portugal’s locker room, or telling the Camp Nou to calm the fuck down. He thinks, ‘You might be Cristiano Ronaldo out there. But in here? In here you’re all mine.’
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Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Everything boils over in the game against Getafe.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio sits on the bench... again. He's never played and barely looked at until he’s being sent off, but things on the pitch were even worse. There were so many missed opportunities that leave everyone looking out of sorts at the end. Everyone in the bench celebrated Higuaín’s opening goal, but the happiness faded with every tic of the clock as Getafe scored twice and Madrid was unable to reply.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Late into the second half, after the equalizer was scored, Mourinho turned around to face the bench and scanned the players’ faces, searching. He reads his notes and looks up again, right at Fábio.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Coentrão! Varane! Warm up,” he said sharply. Fábio is stunned; he figured he wasn’t playing this game either. El Mister hadn’t mentioned line-up changes during the break, and he figured that maybe Florentino’s vendetta against him would last at least one more game. He’s definitely not complaining though.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">They put on their orange warm-up vests and hit the touchline, doing their normal routine to get loose. They’re doing side steps when Getafe score again, and a tense feeling of quiet panic takes hold of the Madrid bench. A few minutes later, once Karanka has determined them to be properly warmed up, he waves them back toward the bench. Mourinho’s buried in his notebook and looks up at them. His eyes glance back and forth between Raphaël and him, assessing. Finally, he says “Varane,” and the Frenchman goes over to stand next to him, receiving the coach’s instructions.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio just stands there, furious. He’s warmed up, he’s fit, and he’s got the experience, but now this teenager is being subbed in over him? What the fuck? He heads back to the bench, jaw tight and full of coiled up anger. He thinks, distantly, that this is how Kaká must feel every game, ready to play but always watching from the sidelines. Mourinho looks at him over Raphaël’s shoulder. It’s a quiet look of warning that Fábio completely turns away from. He can’t even look at his coach right now.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He’s just angry, the kind of angry that needs an outlet. He hadn’t even meant to shout those things at the referee, especially not when he was standing close enough to hear. But it was like word vomit, he saw a bad call and he couldn’t stop. He just wanted someone else to be feeling bad like he was.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">But pretty soon Fábio himself was feeling worse, because the ref whirled around and gestured at him, showing him a red card and ejecting him from the game. Fábio slowly left the pitch and walked into the tunnel, not meeting any of his teammates’ eyes, not meeting Cris’s confused and upset gaze from across the pitch.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Four matches.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He’d earned himself a four match ban from a red card in a game he didn’t even play.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Real Madrid put in an appeal against the ban, but Fábio wasn’t holding out any hope. Mourinho had pulled him aside after the post-match ‘what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-all-of-you’ speech. He told him that he was very disappointed in Fábio, but he made his own decisions and maybe four matches is exactly what he needs to get his head on straight. Fábio quietly pointed out that he had already not played in two, to which Mourinho cryptically replied, “Our lineups are not decided by just one person.”
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">So. Fábio was not expecting much to be done.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cristiano, however, is not as acquiescent and furiously calls up their agent.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin"> Jorge tells them exactly what Fábio had been thinking the whole time. Madrid would fight the sanction, but only as a formality, the way they appeal almost everything they get. But Fábio himself earned that ban so they can’t put it on Florentino, or on Mourinho. They’d have to keep waiting until the four matches are done before they pursue any action against Madrid.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">It doesn’t really pacify Cris either, and hearing it from their agent doesn’t make it any better. The thought of four matches off the pitch is daunting, especially with so many players clamoring to take his place on the starting lineup. Also, Fábio’s blood ran cold at Jorge’s talk of “pursuing action against the club,” and he knows Cris’s did too.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Playing for Real Madrid was always his dream, playing for the club of Zidane and Ronaldo, and his idol Luís Figo. And now that he’s here, now that he’s wearing the crest on the pitch of the Bernabéu, it’s not what he thought it would be.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He hadn’t planned on falling for his Portuguese captain during the World Cup in South Africa, or on following him to Madrid. He hadn’t actually given much thought to leaving Benfica, but when his childhood dream club made him the substantial offer, he almost literally couldn’t refuse. But now his older brothers are calling him asking if he’s pissed off Mourinho, because he’s not letting him play. Now he’s locked into a quiet battle with the head of the club. Now Cris is bearing the brunt of it out on the pitch, worry seeping out of every pore reflected in his poor form and lack of goals.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">His feels his dream is getting away from him and he’s hit with that same feeling of helplessness. Even with everything he’d been through to get here, he’s never felt quite like this. He’s been overlooked in the past because of who he was, a fisherman’s son from a poor neighborhood with little education. He’s always been able to rise above that though, to prove himself and provide for himself without depending on others.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">But right now, he couldn’t prove shit. He couldn’t even play. There was nothing he could do except sit back and let Florentino and everyone else push him around as he watched his dream slip out of his grasp, other players playing in the spot that should be his.
Next
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio watched Madrid tie Valencia from the bench.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He was originally supposed to start, but once he arrived at the Mirasierra for concentration, Mourinho pulled him and Marcelo aside and said there had been a change of plans. Marcelo would be starting now and Fábio would be a substitute. He handed Fábio a new copy of the starting eleven and their positions before turning to Marcelo to give him a brief rundown of the changes. Marcelo shot him a puzzled glance as he leaned in to look at the Mister’s notes.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The game was flat from Madrid’s side. It was like the players were having a hard time communicating, and a lack of motivation kept the team from accomplishing much. If it wasn’t for Pipa, it would have been a straight loss, and as it is, Madrid was lucky to have come away with a tie.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio could see the frustration of the players in the locker room. Cris wore his clearly all over his face. He was already rehashing the match in his head, beating himself up about the should-have and could-have’s. Fábio walks over to his bench and quietly sits next to him, not saying anything. He’s a professional, he knows a loss is a loss and a tie is a loss of two points, and he knows that empty platitudes never make anyone feel better. He’s just there for Cris.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cristiano smiles gratefully when he sees him. Fábio drops a hand onto the other man’s knee and squeezes gently. They listen to Mourinho and Aitor’s post-match speech side by side.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio goes home to his own empty house and collapses on the bed. He finally checks his phone. He’s got two missed calls, one from Andreia and one from a relative. He gives his ex-girlfriend a call first, splayed out on his pillow with his eyes closed. They talk for a while, catching up on each other’s lives before she puts Vitória on the line. Since they’ve broken up, Andreia keeps custody of their daughter during the regular season. Fábio gets visits, and gets her during breaks and some stoppages, but usually he only hears from her on the phone or on Skype.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He lets his daughter babble at him, just relishing in hearing her voice. Once Andreia comes back on and they hang up, he calls back his older brother, and hops in the shower. Even though he didn’t play at all, it feels nice to get clean and just stand in the spray with his eyes closed.
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mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He heads to Cris’s when he’s done, because there’s not much to do in his empty house. Cris had given him his own set of keys a while back, so he unlocks the gate and slips inside. Dolores had been by earlier to drop off little Cristiano and some food, so when he walks in the house is full of laughter and the smell of good cooking wafts through the air.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He finds them in the kitchen, little Cris sitting on the countertop as he watches his father opening Tupperware containers and serving dinner onto plates (two big plates and one little colorful plate; Fábio’s heart swells). They both look up when he walks in, and Junior cries out happily “Papá Fábio! Papá!” He kicks his little feet against the cabinets and demands to be put on the ground. Cristiano laughs and rounds the island, stopping in front of Fábio to give him a big ‘welcome home’ kiss. Junior kicks his feet again when he sees them taking too long and yells at Cris, “Pai! Floor! I wanna say hi to papá!” Fábio pulls away with a laugh and Cris just looks at him, a soft smile on his face as he gently swipes a thumb over the scar on the other man’s cheek in greeting.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He turns around. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t you love me, Cris? You weren’t this excited when you saw me earlier.” Cris makes a sad puppy face, but Junior is immune. He simply holds his arms out. Cris sighs jokingly and picks him up of the counter and Junior is already squirming by the time Cris puts him down. He runs to Fábio. “Up!” he laughs.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio crouches down and plants a big kiss on Junior’s cheek before he picks him up and puts him on his hip.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Junior gives him a kiss, too. “Where were you today papá? I didn’t see you,” he asks with big eyes.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“I was at the game with your pai,” Fábio answers with a smile, not really understanding.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“But I didn’t see you! You didn’t play today!” he insists.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Yeah, I was on the bench today. The coach didn’t need me to play today.” Cris and Fábio exchange a look. Fábio sets Junior back on the countertop (the kid is heavy for a two year old!) but wraps his arm around him as he leans back to watch Cris finish serving.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Are you sad?” Junior asks, kicking his little feet again.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“About what? About not playing?” Junior nods. “Uh, a little bit. I’m always sad when I don’t play. But it’s ok.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“You gotta play! I don’t like to see papá sad.” Fábio laughs at that.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“I don’t like to see papá sad either!” Cris pipes up from the other side of the kitchen. “We’re gonna make sure papá plays next game, OK? Dinner’s served. And once we’re done eating we’re going to put you to bed, little man. It’s way past your bedtime.” Little Cris lets out a wail of protest at the thought of going to sleep.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">As soon as he’s out of Junior’s room with the door softly closed behind him, Cristiano feels arms wrapping around his waist and suddenly he’s being thrown up against the wall. His shoulders thud and Fábio presses against him, holding him in place as his lips slant over Cris’s. Cris turns his head away.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Easy there, tiger. I just put him to sleep.” His breath is coming a bit shorter. He’d seen the looks Fábio was shooting him over dinner, and the way Fábio had been watching him bathe Junior, shirt wet and sticking to his body, before Fábio abruptly left the bathroom.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio laughs and Cris feels it on his neck. “OK, quietly,” he whispers. He stands back so Cris can get up off the wall and he curls a finger into the other man’s belt loop, dragging him down the hall to the bedroom.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">If there’s one thing that Fábio knows about Cris, is that the man loves to be in control. The captain of Portugal, he is in control of a team that trusts him one hundred percent, of the country that places all its hopes on him. Even in Madrid, he controls the outcomes of matches with the goals he scores or doesn’t. Everything from his image, to his contracts, to the images printed of his son is tightly controlled. Fábio knows all of this.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">But if there’s one thing he knows that Cris loves more than being in control, it’s having that control ripped away from him. In bed. By Fábio.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Because in bed, he’s not the only hope of Portugal, or Madrid’s goal machine. In bed, Fábio holds him down, presses his wrists above his head, and does what he wants (what he knows Cris wants). Fábio drives him crazy and the normally proud Cristiano Ronaldo is reduced to begging, pleading, moaning, screaming Fábio’s name.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">It’s these moments that Fábio keeps for himself, locked up in his memory. This is what he thinks about when he sees Cristiano Ronaldo on a Nike ad, or leading the huddle in Portugal’s locker room, or telling the Camp Nou to calm the fuck down. He thinks, ‘You might be Cristiano Ronaldo out there. But in here? In here you’re all mine.’
mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:
Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Everything boils over in the game against Getafe.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio sits on the bench... again. He's never played and barely looked at until he’s being sent off, but things on the pitch were even worse. There were so many missed opportunities that leave everyone looking out of sorts at the end. Everyone in the bench celebrated Higuaín’s opening goal, but the happiness faded with every tic of the clock as Getafe scored twice and Madrid was unable to reply.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Late into the second half, after the equalizer was scored, Mourinho turned around to face the bench and scanned the players’ faces, searching. He reads his notes and looks up again, right at Fábio.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Coentrão! Varane! Warm up,” he said sharply. Fábio is stunned; he figured he wasn’t playing this game either. El Mister hadn’t mentioned line-up changes during the break, and he figured that maybe Florentino’s vendetta against him would last at least one more game. He’s definitely not complaining though.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">They put on their orange warm-up vests and hit the touchline, doing their normal routine to get loose. They’re doing side steps when Getafe score again, and a tense feeling of quiet panic takes hold of the Madrid bench. A few minutes later, once Karanka has determined them to be properly warmed up, he waves them back toward the bench. Mourinho’s buried in his notebook and looks up at them. His eyes glance back and forth between Raphaël and him, assessing. Finally, he says “Varane,” and the Frenchman goes over to stand next to him, receiving the coach’s instructions.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio just stands there, furious. He’s warmed up, he’s fit, and he’s got the experience, but now this teenager is being subbed in over him? What the fuck? He heads back to the bench, jaw tight and full of coiled up anger. He thinks, distantly, that this is how Kaká must feel every game, ready to play but always watching from the sidelines. Mourinho looks at him over Raphaël’s shoulder. It’s a quiet look of warning that Fábio completely turns away from. He can’t even look at his coach right now.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He’s just angry, the kind of angry that needs an outlet. He hadn’t even meant to shout those things at the referee, especially not when he was standing close enough to hear. But it was like word vomit, he saw a bad call and he couldn’t stop. He just wanted someone else to be feeling bad like he was.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">But pretty soon Fábio himself was feeling worse, because the ref whirled around and gestured at him, showing him a red card and ejecting him from the game. Fábio slowly left the pitch and walked into the tunnel, not meeting any of his teammates’ eyes, not meeting Cris’s confused and upset gaze from across the pitch.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Four matches.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He’d earned himself a four match ban from a red card in a game he didn’t even play.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Real Madrid put in an appeal against the ban, but Fábio wasn’t holding out any hope. Mourinho had pulled him aside after the post-match ‘what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-all-of-you’ speech. He told him that he was very disappointed in Fábio, but he made his own decisions and maybe four matches is exactly what he needs to get his head on straight. Fábio quietly pointed out that he had already not played in two, to which Mourinho cryptically replied, “Our lineups are not decided by just one person.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">So. Fábio was not expecting much to be done.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cristiano, however, is not as acquiescent and furiously calls up their agent.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin"> Jorge tells them exactly what Fábio had been thinking the whole time. Madrid would fight the sanction, but only as a formality, the way they appeal almost everything they get. But Fábio himself earned that ban so they can’t put it on Florentino, or on Mourinho. They’d have to keep waiting until the four matches are done before they pursue any action against Madrid.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">It doesn’t really pacify Cris either, and hearing it from their agent doesn’t make it any better. The thought of four matches off the pitch is daunting, especially with so many players clamoring to take his place on the starting lineup. Also, Fábio’s blood ran cold at Jorge’s talk of “pursuing action against the club,” and he knows Cris’s did too.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Playing for Real Madrid was always his dream, playing for the club of Zidane and Ronaldo, and his idol Luís Figo. And now that he’s here, now that he’s wearing the crest on the pitch of the Bernabéu, it’s not what he thought it would be.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He hadn’t planned on falling for his Portuguese captain during the World Cup in South Africa, or on following him to Madrid. He hadn’t actually given much thought to leaving Benfica, but when his childhood dream club made him the substantial offer, he almost literally couldn’t refuse. But now his older brothers are calling him asking if he’s pissed off Mourinho, because he’s not letting him play. Now he’s locked into a quiet battle with the head of the club. Now Cris is bearing the brunt of it out on the pitch, worry seeping out of every pore reflected in his poor form and lack of goals.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">His feels his dream is getting away from him and he’s hit with that same feeling of helplessness. Even with everything he’d been through to get here, he’s never felt quite like this. He’s been overlooked in the past because of who he was, a fisherman’s son from a poor neighborhood with little education. He’s always been able to rise above that though, to prove himself and provide for himself without depending on others.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">But right now, he couldn’t prove shit. He couldn’t even play. There was nothing he could do except sit back and let Florentino and everyone else push him around as he watched his dream slip out of his grasp, other players playing in the spot that should be his.
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