Fic: Bed of Roses (Part 10)
Title: Bed of Roses (formerly 'Highschool AU')
Chapter: Ten
Pairing: Fernando Torres/David Villa, Iker Casillas/David Villa
Rating: NC-17 (over all parts)
Disclaimer: Nothing is true, obviously.
A/N: And I promise you, the dawn is coming (but not yet)
Previous parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
“David,” Xavi says, quietly, after a while. David looks up, sure that his eyes are red. He feels grateful for the company.
“Hey, Xavi.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
David says, “Fernando broke up with me.” He hears himself make a weak attempt at a laugh. “We went out once, but he just broke up with me because he thinks me and Iker have been doing it behind his back, or…yeah.” He gives Xavi an apologetic look. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I don’t mean to sound so, be so…”
“Shut up,” Xavi says, firmly, with a smile and a slight shake of his head. “It’s fine, Guaje. Está bien. And I’m sure you can get him back.”
“How?” David pulls his shoulders in, lets them slump with an exhalation. “He probably thinks I’m the world’s shittiest bastard now.”
The midfielder scoffs. “I can tell you care about him. It’s disgusting how much you love him, I mean you’ve only been here what, a month?”
David semi-glares at him.
“Mark my words, Villa. You guys will get back together, I guarantee it. Maybe not right now, but you will.”
“Thanks,” David says, and then adds, honestly, “Th-that means a lot.” He isn’t sure he believes it, but it does mean a lot.
*
When he gets out of the changing rooms David sees Iker slumped against his car, looking downcast. Pepe is saying something, and it makes Iker give a weak smile and shake his head. Then he looks up and sees David coming. Looks back at Pepe, says something quickly, and gets into his car; and by the time David has come up to them, the other boy is pulling away. He gives David a brief wave before driving off onto the road.
Pepe mutters, under his breath, “Idiot.”
David turns to him. “I’m sorry?”
“He’s an idiot,” Pepe sighs. “Iker, I mean. Apparently, his way of solving matters between you and Fernando is by ‘putting some distance between me and David’.”
David opens his mouth, startled. “I…he…it-”
“-It makes sense? Don’t tell me that. It doesn’t make any sense.” Pepe pats him on the shoulder. “There are only two options for you and Iker.”
Watching the keeper warily, David waits.
“First, you never see each other again ever. Which, clearly, that’s impossible. Or, second option: you finally - and I mean finally - sleep together.”
David says, resentful, “Pepe, what the fuck!”
Pepe shakes his head. “Sorry, I know you and Fernando just broke up. Give it a few weeks, then.”
“Give what a few weeks? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
*
At home David tries to hide his dejection. At school now, it’s strange seeing Fernando in class and having the other boy not like him.
Fernando doesn’t hate him, he doesn’t think so, but they’re just classmates; and David thinks that maybe hurts even more than if Fernando hated him. Pepe stands the awkwardness in biology, makes it ok sometimes, until eventually the class is alright; not painful, but certainly not happy. English is a different matter. Fernando moves, so that he doesn’t work with David and Iker anymore. And David and Iker - things between them are slightly awkward at first and it feels awful sometimes, when they have to swap papers for marking and Iker will take his paper so their fingers don’t touch.
All of Iker’s friends, and David’s, and their mutual friends, more or less know the story, except the rumoured reason for the break up had evolved from ‘David cheated on Fernando with Iker’ to ‘David and Iker were still kind of an item, so Fernando decided to end it’.
As the weeks pass, as they work together in football practice, Sergio grows less hostile, but David knows it’s only because it seemed breaking up was the right thing to do for Fernando, and maybe also because time could have a way of making past hates duller.
*
They are set homework for their winter break. Strangely, after New Year’s, Iker calls to invite David over to finish their English project (a report in English about Christmas in English-speaking countries). David hesitates over the phone, wondering what had brought about the other boy’s change of heart.
Iker says, a little uncomfortably, “It’s…it’s ok if you feel like you don’t want to. I’ll just bring it over after I do my bit.”
That makes David’s mind up, and he says, “No, it’s fine. Iker. I’ll come over.”
He brings a cake that his mother baked for Señor and Señora Casillas, and they greet him warmly while Iker stands to the side, rolling his eyes at the mild embarrassment of parents meeting friends.
“Alright, mum, dad,” he says. “Can we go now?”
“Don’t mind us, son,” his father chuckles. “Fine. Go on.”
Iker escorts David up to his room. A smaller boy about ten years old, who looks rather like Iker, comes out to stare at David from the next room down the corridor.
“Unai, meet David,” Iker says, pausing. “My little brother, Unai.”
“Hi,” Unai says. And then: “Do you watch football?”
“Yeah, I do,” David grins. “Who do you support? Oh, no, wait. Let me guess. Real Madrid.” He’d heard enough of Iker and Xavi’s friendly bickering to know that Iker was as avid a fan of Real Madrid as Xavi was of FC Barcelona.
Unai frowns, says, “No, Barça.”
David glances at Iker. “Really?” He smirks. “Is that right?”
“Barcelona’s way better than Madrid,” Unai declares, smiling mischievously at Iker, who just snorts. “Don’t you think?”
“They’re both great teams,” David nods (both Casillas brothers look at him in slight horror). “But my heart belongs to Gijón.”
Iker laughs, pats him on the back. “Diehard Asturian.”
“Through and through.”
*
“Remind me why we didn’t start this a week ago?” David asks, rubbing his eyes blearily.
“Because it was Christmas and New Year’s and we had to eat and sleep and have fun?” Iker answers, jerking awake from where he had been zoning out on his bed.
They had been at it for four hours, and had concluded that they would need at least another day to finish.
“You could stay over,” Iker suggests, stretching out on his bed and stifling a yawn. “If your parents let you.”
“Yeah, they will, I’ll just have to call them,” David says distractedly, scribbling a word out. (Did ‘missletoe’ have a t?) He calls his home after that.
“David, you’re sixteen,” his father says, when David asks to stay at Iker’s. “It’s fine if you want to stay over at someone’s house.” (His sister protests in the background that it’s no doubt because David is a boy. His father grumbles something, moves away; David hears a door click, and then quiet, and thinks his dad has moved into an empty room.) “Also, boy, your mother wanted me to have a talk with you.”
“Right,” David says, puzzled and a little apprehensive. “What about, Dad?”
“Well…” his dad clears his throat gruffly. “You’re almost a man, see. And maybe you remember a similar conversation from when you were a bit younger, or maybe not…”
“Oh no,” David groans, “Oh no, no, Dad, please…”
“…but it’s only natural for boys your age to feel, uh, certain feelings. Which is, well, to want to have sex.”
Iker stares in wonderment at his friend, who has gone bright red clutching the phone to his ear.
“Dad,” David whines.
“So apparently your mother feels that it’s important I remind you, that whoever you want to have sex with, uh - girl or boy, it’s important to be safe.”
David feels his ears growing hot. Iker is looking at him like he’s crazy.
“So.” His father clears his throat awkwardly. “Any…any questions?”
“None,” David says weakly.
“Alright. Goodnight, son. Be…”
“Goodnight,” David blurts, but his dad still says it:
“…safe!”
Then he finally hangs up. David hangs up too and then throws his mobile onto Iker’s bed.
“What the fuck just happened?” Iker laughs, catching it against his stomach, taking in David’s flushed cheeks and look of utter mortification. “I thought you were going to start crying or something.”
“My dad tried to have the Talk,” David says. “Again. Over the phone. Just now.”
Iker’s eyes widen. “The Talk? Just now? What?”
David quotes, groaning, “‘Your mother feels it’s important to remind you that whoever you have sex with, girl or boy, it’s important to be safe.’”
Iker covers his mouth with a hand, laughing. “Well, he…he basically just pre-empted your coming out?”
David shakes his head, heart thudding. “He did, didn’t he?” He wasn’t sure whether his heart was beating that hard because of the embarrassment of the Talk, or the fact that his dad had felt it necessary to give him the Talk tonight, or…the realization that his parents seemed to know much more about him than he ever tried to let on.
“Wow,” Iker says, snickering. “Wow.”
“You shouldn’t be so smug. It also means,” David snaps, “that he evidently thinks I’m staying over at yours tonight for other purposes than finishing our English paper.”
Iker falls abruptly silent at that. Their eyes meet, and David finds himself looking away, blushing. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until he releases it all in a rush, when Iker says, “So do you want to?”
He says, “Do you mean. What d’you mean?”
Iker shrugs, a smile tugging at his mouth. That makes David relax, feel a little calmer. “I just thought, just wanted to know if you’d ever. You know. With me.”
David wants to say, I still like Fernando. He does still like Fernando, and he doesn’t think he’s ever stopped, or will ever stop, even if they hardly say a word to each other outside of class anymore.
Instead, looking at his friend, watching the way he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, David finds himself saying, “Yeah, I would.”
Part of David thinks he’s making a huge mistake; was he proving Fernando right?
Iker says, cockily, “Of course you would.”
The smirk rises irresistibly to David’s face. It’s too easy, this. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too,” Iker returns cheerfully. “Anyway, that’s what your dad seems to think.”
“Shut up!” David cries, and grabs a pillow to hit Iker with. Iker laughs, cringes into the blows, lifting an arm to defend his face.
“Sorry, sorry.” He grows quiet, and they look at each other for what seems a good minute or so before Iker continues, “We really could…if you wanted to…but I know you still like Fernando. I can tell.”
“Yeah, well.” David looks away, looks at the floor, looks back again at the captain. Smiles. “He’s hardly into me anymore, is he? I’ve tried to explain, I. He just won’t believe me.”
“Then…let’s at least give him a reason not to,” Iker says, his tone only half-joking. “We’ve been so fucking good so far…and it hasn’t really paid off, has it?”
Recklessly, David thinks: maybe I’ll just do it, then, since to Fernando and everyone else (but mostly Fernando) I’ve already done it.
David forces a laugh, says, “No, it hasn’t. Anyway, let’s try to finish this thing.”
Iker looks at the English project and lets their previous topic slide. “Alright.”
But maybe, although neither of them think it that night, Fernando had been quite right about the two of them.