sings the revolution
by meretricula
FIFA Ballon d'Or 2015 - LIVE! January 12
FIFA Ballon d'Or 2015 Live with FourFourTwo 12.1.15
Huw Davies: And it's LIONEL MESSI!
Tim Stannard: It's only his fifth, I suppose he's still allowed to look a little surprised. Lovely embrace between him and Carlos Fabregas, who was sitting next to him. Handshake from Theo Walcott on Fabregas' other side and he's climbing up to the stage.
Huw Davies: Whoops! Awkward moment there, Cesca Fabregas went for the cheek-kiss, Messi went for a hug, the Ballon d'Or got squashed in a place I'm not allowed to explicitly name on this liveblog.
Huw Davies: Lucky Cesca's wearing flats and not heels like our lovely host, or else that might have been Messi's face between the unmentionables. She's taller than he is already.
Tim Stannard: Lucky for Cesca, maybe, Messi probably would have enjoyed it! Blimey but that's a very long hug, I suppose he'll want to congratulate her on her win as well.
[comment from Daniel S]
Seems a bit unkind to ask her to hand over the prize when her brother was in the running and didn't win, doesn't it?
Huw Davies: A bit, maybe, but witness the fond embrace. Ms Fabregas knows all three of the men's finalists, actually. Her brother, obviously, but she and Messi are childhood friends and Carlos Fabregas used to drag Walcott to a lot of Arsenal Ladies games back when she still played there.
Tim Stannard: Well, Messi's finally let go of Cesca long enough for her to hand him his trophy. God, imagine the children those two could have.
source: FourFourTwo.com
*
"Cesca! Cesca, wait!" Leo finally caught up to her, panting a little. As fast as Leo could run, she had longer legs and a head start. "Stop it, okay, just stop, come on - "
Cesca glared down at him - she was still a little taller than Leo; taller than a kid with a growth hormone deficiency, at least she had that going for her, she thought bitterly - and swiped at her dripping nose. "Leave me alone."
"Come on, please, you know he didn't mean it," Leo said, as if she hadn't said anything. "He's just - Geri has to be careful about tackles, you know he does, he got lectured two days ago about it, he's bigger than everybody so the refs pay attention. He didn't mean - "
"I don't care about - Geri can go fuck himself," she said furiously. "Carlos - "
Leo deflated. "He just doesn't want you to get hurt."
"I'm older than he is! I don't need him to - to - to fucking tell Geri he can't - I'm not some stupid airhead and I'm not a little girl and I can take the goddamn tackles!"
"You think I don't - " Leo stopped and looked away. "They're careful with me too," he said tightly. "You think I don't notice? I know I'm the smallest but I'm not - I just want to play."
"At least you'll grow," Cesca said. She sat on the grass and stared broodingly down at her own chest. She felt rather than saw Leo settle beside her. "All I'm going to grow are bigger goddamn tits."
He coughed, and when she glanced at him he was turning red. "They're not that big now," he said bravely. "So maybe they'll stay little."
"Thanks a ton." She shoved his shoulder, but not too hard; he didn't fall over. He pushed back, more as a formality than anything else. "I really appreciate your evaluation. You can do semi-annual check-ups, see how they're doing."
"Fuck you," Leo muttered. He let her rest her head on his shoulder for a minute before he added, "Come on, let's finish the game. We'll just keep scoring until Geri gets pissed enough to foul us again."
"Yeah, okay," Cesca said without moving. Leo got up and leaned down to her, holding out his hands to help her to her feet.
*
source: Twitter
*
Beijing was hot, and crowded, and Kun had been chattering at Leo non-stop since he arrived, but Leo was so relieved that he'd gotten there at all that he didn't even notice, let alone mind. Just unpacking his clothes and putting them away felt like liberation. He'd made it to the Olympics. Now all that was left was winning.
Eventually he tuned back into what Kun was saying, which was something about a tennis player who'd brought his Playstation and introducing Leo to some of the other athletes from Argentina. "We have to go to Cesca's game this afternoon," Leo said firmly.
"Ah, the mysterious Cesca, of whom I have heard so much. I hope her tits live up to my expectations," Kun snorted. Leo glared. "Wait, are you serious? You want to go watch the English women's team play?"
"You'll see," Leo said. "Watch her play, you'll see. The way she passes - you'll get it, okay."
"Yeah, you know, normal people don't fall in love with the way a girl kicks a football," Kun said.
"Shut up," Leo mumbled. "I'm not - it's not. Nobody passes like Cesca."
*
Carlos on life and football in England
Fabregas Week continues today on Arsenal.com with a feature which first appeared in the official Arsenal Magazine in April 2005.
The Spanish midfielder was interviewed alongside his clubmate and housemate, Philippe Senderos. The duo discuss their friendship, life in England, their progress at Arsenal and their hopes for the future…
…
How has living together helped you settle into life in England?
PS: It has been really good, you know? I was here first, for a few months, actually, in 2003, and then Carlos and his sister Cesca came to live at Noreen's too, and that has helped a lot, because I was injured and I would get lonely sometimes but they were always there to cheer me up. It's really frustrating not to play but Carlos would play videogames and talk with me, and Cesca used to take me to all my physio sessions. It kept me from feeling too down.
CF: Definitely living with Phil was so great when we first came, because Cesca and I didn't speak English very well and he was really patient when we needed him to translate everything for us! And English football is very different from what I was used to, so he had to help me with that too. But he's always looking out for us, you know, even now, he's like a big brother.
As you work together and live together, there must be times when you just want to get away from each other?
CF: You must not have siblings! Of course sometimes I want to get away, I don't want to be around my sister all the time either, but we're friends and we get along and if one of us needs space it's not a problem.
PS: I think we try to give each other room when we can, but like Carlos said, we're friends, so being around each other so much isn't a big deal.
How do you like living in Barnet?
PS: It's really nice! We don't really go out much but I've eaten at a few restaurants and they were nice. I think it's a good place to live. We're going to be looking for our own places soon, I'm already looking, actually, but Barnet is really nice.
CF: It's a nice neighborhood. Cesca and I are going to be moving out soon, too, so poor Noreen can have her house back, but we really like the neighborhood. It's quiet. Actually, Phil, we didn't ask you yet, do you want to move with us?
PS: I don't know, where are you moving to?
CF: Well, if you say yes you can help us pick!
PS: Okay, yes.
CF: Great! Cesca and I can't cook, we need him or we'll starve to death.
PS: There's always takeaway.
CF: And then we get fat and the coach will kill us so either way we die!
source: Arsenal.com
*
England won 3-1. Even Kun got into it by the end, and Leo was hoarse from cheering all three of Cesca's assists. He didn't watch games much, really; he'd rather be playing them. It was bizarre to feel so nervous about a result he couldn't change.
It was bizarre to feel nervous about seeing Cesca, too, but it had been a while. They talked on the phone a lot - more than a lot lately, when Leo had been waiting to see if he would be allowed to go to Beijing in the end and Cesca had been waiting to see if her team's qualification would be allowed to stand - but it wasn't the same.
He left Kun and went down to Cesca's locker room to say hello anyway. He meant to wait outside, but one of the other women on the team saw him and said something he didn't understand in English, and somehow he ended up being dragged inside. He didn't see Cesca at first, and he was trying to both look for her and not look at her teammates in various states of undress when something ran into him from behind. "You're here, you're here!" Cesca said excitedly. Leo managed to squirm around in her arms so he could see her properly, and her smile lit up her whole face. "I told you you'd make it, I told you," she said, hugging him even tighter. She hadn't showered yet, and she reeked. Leo didn't care. He put his arms around her and held on.
Eventually one of the English girls said something that made Cesca laugh and let go long enough to swat Leo in the back of the head. "And you, you fucker, why didn't you text me to say you were here? Some friend you are. Come here, I want you to meet - Kelly! Kelly!" Cesca's next words were an incomprehensible mess of English, but an older woman dropped her bag on the floor and came over, so Leo guessed that Cesca had been talking to her. "Leo, this is Kelly, that's Alex, that's Rachel, that's Anita - "
Kelly said something in English and then held out her hand to Leo. "Hello," she said carefully. "How are you?"
"I'm good," Leo said, shaking her hand. "And you?" Cesca giggled, and Kelly turned to her instead of answering Leo, going off in English again. Leo shuffled his feet awkwardly and waited.
"Hey, are you staying in the village?" Cesca finally asked. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"
"Uh, sure," Leo said.
She turned back to Kelly and had another rapid-fire exchange in English that ended with Cesca rolling her eyes and dragging Leo out the door. "Kelly says I should avoid being within a three-meter radius of anybody until I've had a shower, but whatever, you've smelled worse. I can take a shower at your place. Come on, let's get weird Chinese food on the way! Alex told me they sell fried scorpions here, can you believe that?"
"I'm not eating scorpions," Leo said, fumbling for his phone so he could text Kun. He didn't know why the thought of Cesca in his shower was making him blush. It was just Cesca.
"Aww, come on, I don't want to try them by myself!" she protested. "Don't be such a pussy."
"Bugs are not for eating," Leo said firmly. His Blackberry buzzed with a reply from Kun.
room's all yours! free olympic condoms in bedside drawer! ;)
Leo blushed even harder.
*
The Foreign Face of the WPL
Francesca Fabregas is a lovely young woman, a devoted sister, and an extraordinarily talented footballer. But should she really be the face of English women's football? She isn't even English.
Rod Liddle
Quick, name the starting eleven of the Arsenal Ladies. Can't manage it? Well, don't beat yourself up about it; I couldn't either. But the one name you - and I - could probably manage is Cesca Fabregas. Finally, women's football has a marketable face: talented, beautiful, charming Cesca. A poster of her in her Arsenal uniform hangs in the window of Nike's flagship store in London. She is forever in the tabloids for attending some charity banquet or concert with her brother, Carlos Fabregas, darling of women and Arsenal fans alike. If only she could acquire a pop-star for a boyfriend she could be the WPL's answer to David Beckham.
But what exactly is she famous for? No one, aside from the handful of Gunners fans so die-hard they even check the results of the women's team, had ever heard of Francesca Fabregas until May 2008, when Sky Sports aired a one-off television program called "The Carlos Fabregas Show: Nike Live," which (obviously) starred Carlos Fabregas in various sketches, but also featured his sister, along with Arsenal players such as Philippe Senderos and Nicklas Bendtner, coach Arsene Wenger, and Matt Lucas of Little Britain. Originally the filmmakers had planned to interview the Fabregas parents, but since Cesca speaks fluent English and was, after all, already there - at the time, she was sharing living quarters with her brother and Senderos - she was drafted instead and appeared in nearly all of the scenes.
She stole the show. Nike, intrigued by the marketing potential of her chemistry with her brother, signed an endorsement contract with her and began featuring both Fabregas siblings together in promotional campaigns, especially after Carlos Fabregas was awarded the captaincy of Arsenal in November 2008 (Cesca had been captain of the Ladies side for a year already). They were the primary faces of Nike's recent Men vs. Women Challenge in the UK. They are the Captains Fabregas, and they sell.
They're not just selling Nike boots, though. Indirectly, they are selling women's football. Attendance of the Arsenal Ladies' matches skyrocketed - in part influenced, no doubt, by Carlos Fabregas' efforts to bring his own, more famous teammates with him to watch his sister play. When the Arsenal Ladies won their third UEFA Women's Cup in May 2009, he was in the stands, and so were Lionel Messi, Thierry Henry, Theo Walcott, Gerard Pique, and Rafael Nadal. There was more media interest in the players watching the game than the ones on the pitch.
No-one could argue with the fact that English women's football needs the attention. The clubs have shockingly little money to spend on equipment, training grounds, even uniforms; they have even less to give to their players. Cesca receives no salary at all and was completely supported by her brother before she signed her contract with Nike. She continues to live rent-free in his house, and he still pays for the fashionable frocks she wears when they're out on the town. In a sense, the Fabregases encapsulate the parasitic relationship between Arsenal FC and the Arsenal Ladies: the women, despite having achieved vastly more success in recent years, are entirely dependent upon the goodwill and sufferance of their brother team.
Is that really the image that women's football wants to present?
And really, is Cesca Fabregas the image that English women's football wants to present? Yes, technically she is a British citizen. Yes, she plays for the English national team. Yes, she was instrumental in their campaign to qualify for the World Cup and then the Olympics, and even owns a bronze medal from Beijing for her pains. But like the charming Spanish accent in her otherwise perfect English, she will never entirely shake her origins in Barcelona, the city that has produced so much footballing talent, including her brother, for Spain. The one area in which the WPL is indisputably superior to the Premier League is its production and nurturing of local talent. It cannot lose that, and the prominence of Cesca Fabregas, the Spanish postergirl of English women's football, runs contrary to all national pride in the WPL.
On a less idealistic level, letting Fabregas become the pretty face that represents the league is simply ill-conceived. Sooner or later, she will leave; like so many of their countrymen, she and her brother will eventually ride off into the sunset toward other, warmer shores, Johnny and Jenny Foreigner headed home at last. If the WPL doesn't want all interest in their clubs and games to collapse when that day inevitably arrives, they need to promote the other girls. The English ones.
source: The Sunday Times
*
"And did you see my pass for 2-1?" Cesca yelled over the sound of water running in the bathroom. "I mean, Kelly's a fucking genius, she could score off of nothing, but fuck, that was an awesome assist."
Leo remembered the pass, the defenders scrambling when they realized it had split them down the middle, the perfect angle for another white jersey to just tap the ball into the net, the goalkeeper nowhere. "It was," he agreed.
The water shut off, and Cesca opened the door. "Hey, can I borrow a shirt or something? Mine's all gross and sweaty." The towel barely covered her to mid-thigh. Leo was used to seeing guys naked all the time in the locker room, but this was Cesca, and she was definitely not a guy. Kun's remark about her breasts floated into his mind, and he spent a distracted second hating Kun. Then he actually looked, and hated himself more.
"Leo?"
"Uh?" he choked.
"Leo, can I have a shirt?"
"I, uh, um - "
"Leo, the fuck is wrong with you?" Cesca put her hands on her hips. The towel, already precarious, slipped a few more millimeters.
"You're naked and I think I want to kiss you!" Leo blurted.
Cesca blinked, then looked down at herself. "Really? I mean, it's not - um. You think you want to kiss me, or you actually want to kiss me?"
Leo gulped. "I definitely want to kiss you."
"Oh," Cesca said. "Okay."
*
[IMAGE DESC. Three women in blue soccer jerseys standing together with their backs to a railing. A soccer pitch is visible behind them. The woman in the middle has her arms around the other two. At the bottom of the image, the following text is written: KELLY SMITH #10 FORWARD // CESCA FABREGAS #4 MIDFIELDER // ALEX SCOTT #22 DEFENDER.]
TRANSCRIPT
AS: So, hi, I'm Alex Scott, this is Kelly -
KS: I'm Kelly Smith -
AS: And we are very proud that we can finally present, in this exclusive interview, after a very long wait -
CF: It was one year!
AS: A very long wait, the woman, the legend, the assist machine, Cesca Fabregas!
CF: (laughter) You're awful! (more laughter) Hi, I'm Cesca Fabregas, I'm a midfielder and I'm a player for the Boston Breakers, I'm very happy to be here with these very special ladies -
AS: What's that supposed to mean?
CF: It means you're special and I'm happy to be here!
KS: Alex needs to work on her listening skills.
AS: I hear you just fine when you're shouting for the ball!
CF: Maybe we should keep a list of all the times we shout and Alex doesn't pass to us. She either has selective hearing or selective memory.
AS: (laughter) Okay, okay! Stick to the script! (to the camera) Since we have now had an entire week of team practice with the peerless Cesca, we thought she should answer some questions about her teammates. First of all, Cesca, who is your favorite teammate on the Boston Breakers?
CF: Not you! (laughter) No, no, you and Kelly are of course my favorites because I know you for so long, I was very very happy to come to Boston because I knew you would be here and I missed playing with you last year so much! But maybe Kelly is my most favorite because she lets me live in her apartment until I find a place of my own and she cooks better than me. So she is my favorite.
AS: I'm heartbroken. What if I cooked for you?
CF: Make me my mama's paella, you will be my favorite. Sorry, Kelly.
KS: I see how it is!
CF: But right now you are my favorite!
KS: I guess I better learn to make paella then so I'll stay that way.
CF: You make me paella, I make you assists, we will have the most beautiful friendship.
AS: And I'm left out in the cold again.
CF: Well, we have a special attackers bond! You cannot come between us!
AS: (to the camera) It's true.
source: YouTube
*
Leo wasn't sure what woke him up, and then he saw the blue glow of a cell phone screen reflected off of Cesca's face, and realized it had been the soft beeping of the keys. "What are you doing?" he yawned.
"Texting Kelly."
Leo had a sudden, horrific vision of every humiliating detail of their encounter being giggled over in English before Cesca's next practice. It hadn't gone perfectly, to put it kindly. "Oh," he managed.
Cesca looked up from her phone and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "She's my roommate. I didn't want her to wonder where I was, that's all."
"Oh," Leo repeated. "Um. Cesca, if I - I didn't - "
Cesca's smile dropped off her face. "Do you want me to go?"
"If I wasn't - if it wasn't - good," Leo barreled on helplessly.
"Oh." Cesca laughed. "Leo. It's fine. We'll just have to practice."
"Oh, okay," Leo said, relieved. He could handle practicing just fine.
*
source: Twitter
*
"Oh my god," Cesca said. Leo kept eating. "Leo. Leo. Leo, that's Rafael Nadal." Leo felt Kun jerk upright on his other side, and Cesca yanked at his sleeve until he finally looked up. "Leo he's coming over here oh my god Leo Rafael Nadal - "
"Hola," said Rafael Nadal. "You're Lionel Messi, no?"
"Yeah," Leo mumbled. Cesca let out a nearly inaudible squeak.
"I'm Rafa Nadal," Nadal said. Leo nodded awkwardly. "Can I have your autograph?"
"Uh, sure," Leo said blankly. "What do you want me to sign?"
Nadal beamed at him. "I appreciate it," he said, producing a football and a Sharpie. "I love to watch you play."
Leo felt a rush of tell-tale heat in his cheeks, and ducked his head a little. "You too," he managed. He signed the football and ventured a look up as he passed it back. Nadal was still grinning, his entire face crinkled with laugh-lines, and exuding enough charisma to knock over a horse.
"Thank you!" Nadal said cheerfully. "Good luck with your tournament, no?" He started to turn away. Leo glanced at Cesca, puzzled, and was met with an unfamiliar sight: she was completely speechless. He thought she might actually be paralyzed with adoration.
"Wait," he said. He offered Nadal's pen back to him. "Could you sign her shirt?"
"Sure, no problem," Nadal said, and then in very careful English to Cesca, "You come more closer, please, no?"
He scrawled his signature on her back, and when she turned around she finally blurted out in Catalan, "I hope you win gold!" The side of her face that Leo could see was brick red.
"Are you in the Spanish delegation?" Nadal asked, clearly taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you." His Catalan was so strangely accented that Leo could barely understand him.
"I play for England," Cesca said. "I live in London with my brother. But I was born in Barcelona."
"Oh," Nadal said politely. Cesca bit her lip, and Leo awkwardly put his hand on the small of her back. He knew why she didn't play for Spain - he'd been there when she decided not to play for Spain, and he'd let her practice explaining her decision to her brother on him - but no number of arguments about funding and organization and actually getting to play in major tournaments was going to make her feel better about the blank incomprehension on Nadal's face.
"Oh, hey, you found them!" One of the other guys from the Argentina delegation - a tennis player, Leo thought; he and Kun had hit it off - came jogging up. He and Nadal hugged, and Kun waved. "I thought I was going to have to haul you over and ask for his autograph for you, you pussy. Anyway, I was going to tell you, we were thinking about having a Playstation tournament after dinner, you in? All of you," he added in the the general direction of Kun and Leo. "Bring your girlfriend, if you want."
Leo reflexively grabbed Cesca's arm, even though she'd mostly grown out of punching people when they pissed her off. "Thanks," he said. "But - "
"Sure, let's go," Cesca said. Leo turned to stare at her. "What? It'll be fun. I'll kick your ass."
"Cool!" The tennis player - Monaco, that was his name - grinned at them. "Kun knows where my room is. See you later, okay? Rafa, we've got the practice court in five minutes, and I think your uncle is waiting."
"Shit," Nadal said succinctly, and bolted.
"What was that?" Leo whispered as Cesca sat back down to finish her lunch. "I've never seen you get like that before."
"Yeah, well," she said, her mouth twisted ruefully. "I've never met Guardiola, either."
Leo thought about that while she dug into her pasta. "So what do I get for getting Nadal's autograph for you? Cesca?" He poked her in the side.
She looked up and grinned. "I don't know, what do you want?"
*
Stunted Style: There's No Such Thing As Formal Sneakers
Category: Fashion, English Premier League, Women's Premier League, The Captains Fabregas, Dressed At Gunpoint
It pains us to admit it, Kickette soldier boys and girls, but we think it might be time to take a stand. As you know, our unwavering adoration and admiration for the lovely, down-to-earth Francesca Fabregas (older sister of perennial Finest Five member Carlos Fabregas, captain of the Arsenal Ladies, and prime reason behind the creation of our Gentlemen's Auxiliary) has led us to waive our usual standards of fashion analysis before. And we stand by our decision: girl's a career athlete, not a career WAG. If we don't judge the menfolk for an unvarying t-shirt, jeans and sneakers combo on their way to and from practice, it would be rankest sexism for us to take issue with Cesca's daily wardrobe decisions - espesh since we have yet to spy her toting a manpurse around. (We assure you that if she ever acquires a piece of man-candy to parade about, once we finish crying in the ladies room over the impossibility of ever fulfilling our lesbian fantasies, he will be subjected to the same stringent levels of scrutiny that you have come to expect of us where the significant others of 'ballers are concerned.) But - BUT -
When the gentlemen are done up in tuxes for a night out on the town, we say it's game on for the ladies, too. And Cesca is usually to be relied upon for these occasions, so it's not like we're calling her out as a repeat offender. We love you, Cesca! We're just a little concerned. She looked gorgeous as usual… down to the knees. (Well, okay, we think the skirt's a little short, but when you've got legs like Cesca Fabregas you can get away with it.) And then, this:
We know, Cesca. We understand. Your love for your converses is well-documented and it must have been so tempting to finally own a pair for formal occasions. But we have to break it to you: there's no such thing as formal sneakers. Adding plastic platform heels to your tennis shoes doesn't dress them up; it just makes them tacky.
Not, of course, that she's even feeling the heat for this faux pas in the wider media, since as per usual Getty Images has mistakenly labeled her in all of their photos as her brother's notoriously media-shy girlfriend, Carla Dona Garcia. Still marginally less creepy than the time they got Cesca's name right but called her his wife.
What do you think, Kickette Army? Are we right to censure our beloved idol for letting us down on the fashion front, or are her shoes totally within the realms of sartorial acceptability - or even just totally awesome? Drop a comment and let us know!
source: Kickette.com
*
When the whistle finally blew, all Leo could think was we won, we won, and he hugged Kun so hard he could barely breathe while Kun half-sang, half-shouted in his ear, "No te deja, no te deja de alentar!" They all ran back onto the pitch, screaming and hugging and crying, and Leo sang "Vamos, vamos Argentina," until his voice cracked.
If he'd said Cesca so much as crossed his mind, he would have been lying; he had completely forgotten she existed, or that anything existed besides his teammates in blue and white and the medals that were going to be put around their necks. He only remembered when they finally headed back to the locker room, and he looked up and saw her in the stands looking down at him, just fucking beaming, and he thought, without any real consciousness of it, I will never see anything more beautiful than this.
"Cesca!" he screamed up at her. She was leaning down over the railing, laughing, her face covered in smeared blue and white paint; she was Cesca and Argentina and football and he didn't know - he didn't know what he even wanted to say, but it was bubbling up inside him and he had to open his mouth or he thought he was going to explode. "Cesca, I love you!"
"You beautiful little fucker!" she hollered back. The flag draped over her shoulders slipped, and all she was wearing under it was the sports bra that went with her away kit. She was burnt pink and dripping with sweat in the Beijing summer sun and Leo had seen her naked before, more than once, but his mouth still went dry. "I love you too!"
*
[IMAGE DESC. A teenage boy wearing an Arsenal jersey being interviewed by a reporter.]
TRANSCRIPT
INT: Congratulations on your goal, you're the youngest player to ever score for Arsenal's first team.
CF: Thank you.
INT: We noticed your dedication of the goal, was it to anyone in particular? A new lady in your life?
CF: (laughter) You get me in trouble with my girlfriend! No, no, is not for - is for my sister, no? Because she come with me from Spain, she leave home to be here with me, so I want to say her, thank you. This is my first goal, no? But all my goals, they are for her.
source: YouTube
*
Carlos didn't even bother to knock on Leo's door before he used the spare key he'd swiped from Geri and walked in. He only had a couple of days in Barcelona before he had to go back to London, and he wanted to see Leo, and the fucker wasn't answering his Blackberry, which had to be a first since he'd bought the damn thing. Ergo, Leo was sleeping, and would no doubt be delighted to have Carlos wake him up by jumping on him.
The weird noises registered while Carlos was in the hall, and he followed them into Leo's living room. "What the hell, are you watching porn in here or - son of a bitch."
Leo wasn't watching porn. He could have been acting in it, though, considering that he was naked, sweaty and on top of a woman. Who happened to be Carlos' sister.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" Cesca demanded, shoving herself upright on the couch and pushing Leo along with her. Carlos focused his eyes on Leo's tattoo of his mother and tried not to think about why that movement had made Leo squeak or the fact that Leo's torso was the only thing covering Cesca's breasts. "Get out!"
"You're having sex with Leo," Carlos said blankly. "You're having sex. With Leo."
"Well not anymore you cockblocking little fuck," Cesca snapped. In the silence, the television suddenly blared GOOOOOOL! Gol de Barcelona!
"You're having sex with Leo while watching a Barcelona match," Carlos said. "This has to be a nightmare."
"Do I criticize the nineties pop music you play every time Carla spends the night? No, because I am a good sister who doesn't fucking walk in on you having sex. Christ. Would you just - go into the kitchen, all right? I'm getting dressed."
"With Leo. Leo," Carlos muttered, but he retreated to the kitchen, where he spent a good ten minutes trying to unravel the mysteries of Leo's coffee machine while he definitely did not speculate about why Cesca could be taking so long to put on her clothes. Or the box of condoms he'd seen on the floor by the couch. At least she was using condoms, he thought, or he would have, if he were thinking about it. Which he wasn't.
"Okay, fuckwit," Cesca said. He silently offered her the first cup of coffee. She accepted it, so she wasn't actually planning to kill him.
"So," he said awkwardly. She sat down at the table and stared at him, baleful and cranky, but that wasn't so different from when he accidentally woke her up from a nap. She was wearing a Barcelona training shirt that had to belong to Leo, though, and that was enough to remind him that this was actually nothing like leaving the volume on the TV up too loud while he played videogames in the living room so Cesca came crashing out of her bedroom and then ended up playing with him for three hours instead of going back to bed. "So, you and Leo."
"Yeah," she said.
"So, um. How long has that been going on?"
"The Olympics."
"Oh." At least she hadn't - hadn't lied about it, or kept it a secret forever, he thought, even if she hadn't told him, and he'd called her and babbled for an hour after the first time Carla let him kiss her. "Oh, okay."
"I wasn't - Carlos." She frowned. "Carlos, I would have told you. It was just - you know, the Olympics, and you weren't there, and Kelly was - I don't know, she didn't think it was a good idea, and I wasn't sure if - I would have told you, okay. I would have told you when I came home."
"We are home," he said, because he couldn't quite let it go. Her suitcase was in their mother's house and so was his, even if she hadn't been there that morning when his flight got in.
"Home in London, god, don't be stupid," she said impatiently.
"Oh," he said again. "Okay. Um. So, should I - I mean, Leo."
She sighed. "Look, don't - I can take care of myself, okay? You don't have to do anything."
"I just meant - "
"Uh, should I - ?" Leo had drifted into the kitchen, thankfully fully dressed. He looked embarrassed and lost and Carlos felt - it was Leo's fucking kitchen. He shouldn't look lost in his own kitchen.
"Hey," Cesca said, holding out her hand. Leo shuffled over and took it, and then yelped when she yanked hard enough to make him fall onto her lap. "Hey," she repeated, almost too quietly for Carlos to hear.
"Hey," Leo said. Cesca put her arms around his waist and he relaxed perceptibly back into her.
"So you have to treat Cesca right," Carlos said. "Or I'll kill you."
"Carlos - " Cesca snapped.
"And you have to promise to be nice to Leo," he went on doggedly. "Okay?"
"Oh," Leo said. Over his shoulder, Carlos could see Cesca smiling at him.
"Okay," she said. "I promise."
*
source: Twitter
*
The club was pretty dark and very loud, and Leo didn't really feel like partying, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ruin anyone else's night, or even just get up and leave on his own. Instead he took another sip of his disgustingly sweet drink and scanned the crowd of bodies on the dancefloor until he located Cesca's bright red dress. She was clinging to Geri like an octopus, which could have been upsetting, except that Leo wasn't the jealous type and also he was pretty sure she was just too drunk to stand on her own. As he watched, Carlos came up to them and Cesca transferred her hold on Geri's waist to Carlos' neck. He wasn't sure if she was actually trying to dance or just wobbling.
"You don't look like you're having fun," Carla said. Leo jumped, and knocked over his drink. They both scrambled for napkins. "Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't - "
"It was awful anyway," Leo said, shrugging. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay." Carla flashed a quick smile. "But you're not off the hook, you know. What's wrong?"
"Not really my kind of party," Leo said wryly. "And it's not like I've got much to celebrate."
She winced. "Sorry. I didn't - sorry."
"No, it's not - it's fine, you know? It's not every day your country wins the World Cup." Leo shook himself, trying to get rid of his mood. "Why aren't you out there dancing, too?"
Carla laughed. "Let's just say this isn't really my kind of party either."
Leo toasted her with his empty glass. He couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't bitter or self-pitying and Carla never seemed to mind the quiet, so the silence could have stretched out indefinitely, but Cesca interrupted before it could reach awkward lengths. "I am so drunk," she announced behind Leo. He caught her arm before her stumble could turn into an actual fall. "So, so drunk. Leo, I brought you a - a - I don't know what this is." Leo squinted at the drink in her hands. He didn't know what it was either, but it looked like a fishbowl full of ice and glass cleaner. "But it's for you!" Cesca added cheerfully.
"Thank you," Leo said.
"Cesca, could you tell Carlos that Leo and I are going back to the hotel?" Carla asked. Leo looked at her sharply. "I'm really tired."
Cesca blinked. "The hotel?"
"I'm tired," Carla said. "Leo is going to walk me back."
"Oh, tired," Cesca said. She set the goldfish bowl of blue alcohol on the table and put her arms around Carla with a total disregard for her personal space, or the fact that every exposed inch of her own skin was shiny with sweat. "Carla. Carla. You don't want to dance?"
"Not right now," Carla said patiently. "Right now I'm tired. We're going to go back, okay?"
"Back," Cesca repeated. "Oh. The hotel. Okay, stay here. I'll be right back."
"No, we're going to - oh, for god's sake," Carla said. Cesca was already gone; she shimmied and slithered away through the crowd with the kind of ease that only very drunk people ever seemed to achieve. Leo was pretty sure that if he'd tried to follow her he would have gotten approximately two meters before someone stepped on his foot or cracked an elbow into his nose, but Cesca got to Carlos and dragged him back before Leo could even work up the nerve to try the contents of the fishbowl.
"Where are we going?" Carlos asked, swaying.
Carla just looked at him, hands on her hips. "I'll take Cesca if you take Carlos," she said at last. "Come on."
Leo draped one of Carlos' arms over his shoulders, put his own arm around his waist and started to edge towards the exit. Carla seemed to be navigating Cesca with just a linked elbow, but he didn't feel up to that sort of challenge. The night air as they spilled out into the street was like coming up from underwater after the smoky club, and Leo breathed in. It was that strange sort of moment when you looked around yourself and were suddenly, inexplicably grateful to be alive: maybe he hadn't won the World Cup, maybe his team had gone out in utterly humiliating fashion and he hadn't scored a single goal, but night in Ibiza was beautiful and he would be back in Barcelona soon, and that was Cesca's voice up ahead, rambling about what would happen if Gossip Girl were about football players. Life was pretty good.
"Leo," Carlos said. "Leo."
"Yeah?"
"Leo, I wish you were Spanish," Carlos said very seriously.
"I like being from Argentina," Leo said.
"I know," Carlos sighed. He put his head on Leo's shoulder; Leo just hoped he wasn't drooling. Carla glanced back at them with a sympathetic grimace. "I just wish we could play together again."
"Come back to Barcelona," Leo suggested, which was glib and unhelpful but was also sort of something he wanted badly enough that he couldn't say it out loud completely sober. He wasn't - he was happy, he liked his life, he wasn't pining, no matter what fucking Geri thought, but he wanted Carlos and Cesca to come home. Knowing that they were probably better off where they were didn't actually help.
"Maybe someday," Carlos said. He pressed a wet, smacking kiss to Leo's cheek. "I miss you too, hombre."
"Fuck off, Carlos, you can't have him!" Cesca yelled.
"You fuck off, he should be so lucky! Everybody knows I'm the pretty one!" Carlos started windmilling his free arm in Cesca's general direction. Leo wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but he was deeply grateful to arrive at the hotel without anyone falling over or breaking something.
"Trade you," Carla said with a sigh. Leo helped her wrestle Carlos into their room and left her to handle the rest. Cesca, thankfully, had stayed where they left her, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
"Leo, you don't care I'm not the pretty one, right?" she asked as he tried to unlock their door. "You don't like Carlos better than me?"
"Of course I like you best," Leo said, distracted. He finally got the door open and turned around to get Cesca inside; she was staring at him with a ridiculous pout than only got more pronounced as he half-carried, half-dragged her to bed. "Cesca, you're my best friend. I'll always like you best. And I think you're prettier than everyone else in the world, but I wouldn't care if you were - I don't know, if you were ugly and scarred and cross-eyed. Your football is beautiful."
"Oh." Cesca blinked up at him. Leo felt utterly ridiculous, even though she probably wouldn't remember a word he'd said in the morning, but he still let her pull him down to the bed beside her when she held out her arms. "Leo, I love you too." For a moment, Leo wondered how it was even possible for anyone to understand another person as well as Cesca, half-asleep and falling-down drunk, understood him. Then she climbed onto his lap and kissed him, sloppy and insistent, and he didn't really care anymore.
"Cesca," he panted. She kept rocking back and forth as she stabbed her tongue into his mouth, a nasty dare to go her one better. Leo sucked on her tongue until she came up for air moaning, but the pressure on his rapidly hardening cock was infuriating, enough to tease but not anything more, so he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her over on the bed, and covered her body with his own. "Cesca, you want - "
"You gonna fuck me?" She grinned at him, bright and challenging in the dim lamp-light. Leo felt her legs wrap around his waist and couldn't help the involuntary buck of his hips. "That's what I want."
"Yeah, okay, fuck - " and Cesca didn't unhook her legs behind his back but she reached down to rub at herself through her underwear, and god but he needed to be inside her. "Fuck, okay, hang on, I have to get - Cesca, I will be right back."
"Don't take too long, I'm not going to wait for you," she said lazily. He made the mistake of looking back at her and nearly walked into the bathroom door. She'd gotten her underwear down to her ankles and left it there, her dress flipped up and her thighs spread. She wasn't putting on a show; her eyes were closed, and he could tell by now when she was doing something just to turn him on, because that was the only time she was loud. She was fingering herself because she was too impatient to wait for him to get back and do it for her.
"Fuck," Leo said again, low and heartfelt, and ducked into the bathroom to look for condoms. It didn't really help that his hands were shaking. "Sorry, sorry," he added when he finally came back into the bedroom. It had taken over five minutes of digging through various toiletries to find the condoms, and he didn't really want to know why Cesca had packed them with her razors. "I didn't mean to - are you fucking serious."
She looked so innocent, passed out in a sprawl across the bed, that for a moment Leo almost felt guilty for being annoyed, and then he had to laugh. "I'm never letting you live this down," he murmured, settling beside her head. She twitched in her sleep, turning towards him, and he brushed a finger over her cheek. "Months of mockery, I promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went to go jerk off in the shower.
*
Lionel Messi: Off The Market?
Category: La Liga, Hook Ups, Rumour Mill
Leo Messi & ???
UPDATE: Messi has semi-refuted his grandfather's comments from earlier this week by saying at a presser today: "There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. Nothing has changed in my personal life. Right now I'm very happy concentrating on my football."
Grasping at straws, we know, but he did say that nothing had changed, not that he was single…
According to Messi's loud-mouth Grandpa, the one 'baller so in love with the game that he's never had time for a girlfriend (maybe this is why he's the best in the world? other players, take note!) might not be so single after all. Asked whether he hoped for more descendants from his superstar grandkid, Gramps responded that he would love to see some sprogs, and said superstar grandkid would love to get to the business of making them, but his girlfriend doesn't want children. Imaginary S.O. invented to placate the family at Christmas (footballers! they're just like us!), or super-secret ladyfriend kept under wraps? Let us know what you think in the comments!
source: Kickette.com
*
"You should do something about that," Cesca's mother said behind her. Cesca hummed in vague acknowledgement, more interested in watching Leo play with her cousins. He could never say no to them, so he'd already ended up roped into giving piggyback rides, and she gave him five minutes before the youngest one was using him as a pony. "Cesca. Are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, Mama," Cesca said reflexively.
"That man wants children," Nuria said. "He's not going to wait forever. When are you going to settle down and give him some?"
"Mother," Cesca hissed. "For god's sake. My job involves running really fast for ninety minutes and sometimes getting knocked over by women twice my size. I can't do that if I'm pregnant."
"Your job, your job, always with your job. You think Lionel Messi's wife needs a job?"
"I love my job. And Leo isn't - I have no interest in living off Leo's money, all right?"
"You've lived off your brother's money all your life," Nuria said dismissively. Cesca gaped at her, too furious even to speak. "It's a little late to be developing scruples about that. Do you love your job more than you love Leo? Because sooner or later it will be one or the other, and your job won't be there to take care of you fifty years from now."
"I think you and Dad have given me plenty of evidence that marrying someone and having kids doesn't guarantee that they'll stay with you for the next fifteen years, let alone fifty," Cesca snapped, and was viciously pleased when her mother's face went white. "And I don't know how my relationship with Leo is any of your business."
"I'm trying to help you," Nuria said stiffly. "But if you can't appreciate that then I'll leave you alone."
"You do that." Cesca stood her ground and watched her mother walk away. It wasn't all that satisfying, but at least she had her pride.
She managed to hold it together until the end of the party, or at least she faked it well enough to pass, although Carlos kept giving her strange looks and he tried to corner her once on her way to the bathroom. Cesca pretended not to notice; she wasn't going to ruin his birthday over yet another fight with their mother. She only had a few hours to spend in Barcelona before she had to fly back for training and she had no intention of wasting them on something pointless and unpleasant.
It bothered her, though. She knew it shouldn't have, that her mother never had and never would understand why she needed to play, but still - "You want kids, don't you?" she asked abruptly, halfway through the drive to the airport. Leo glanced at her sidelong and then back at the road.
"Someday, yeah."
"You're twenty-seven," she said flatly. "'Someday' isn't that far off now."
"Cesca, what - "
"And I can't - I'm not going to retire for years. So maybe it shouldn't be with me."
"I don't want a family, I want our family," Leo said. He took one hand off the steering wheel and, without looking, flicked her in the cheek. "I can wait."
*
sings the revolution, part ii
FIFA Ballon d'Or 2015 - LIVE! January 12
FIFA Ballon d'Or 2015 Live with FourFourTwo 12.1.15
Huw Davies: And it's LIONEL MESSI!
Tim Stannard: It's only his fifth, I suppose he's still allowed to look a little surprised. Lovely embrace between him and Carlos Fabregas, who was sitting next to him. Handshake from Theo Walcott on Fabregas' other side and he's climbing up to the stage.
Huw Davies: Whoops! Awkward moment there, Cesca Fabregas went for the cheek-kiss, Messi went for a hug, the Ballon d'Or got squashed in a place I'm not allowed to explicitly name on this liveblog.
Huw Davies: Lucky Cesca's wearing flats and not heels like our lovely host, or else that might have been Messi's face between the unmentionables. She's taller than he is already.
Tim Stannard: Lucky for Cesca, maybe, Messi probably would have enjoyed it! Blimey but that's a very long hug, I suppose he'll want to congratulate her on her win as well.
[comment from Daniel S]
Seems a bit unkind to ask her to hand over the prize when her brother was in the running and didn't win, doesn't it?
Huw Davies: A bit, maybe, but witness the fond embrace. Ms Fabregas knows all three of the men's finalists, actually. Her brother, obviously, but she and Messi are childhood friends and Carlos Fabregas used to drag Walcott to a lot of Arsenal Ladies games back when she still played there.
Tim Stannard: Well, Messi's finally let go of Cesca long enough for her to hand him his trophy. God, imagine the children those two could have.
source: FourFourTwo.com
*
"Cesca! Cesca, wait!" Leo finally caught up to her, panting a little. As fast as Leo could run, she had longer legs and a head start. "Stop it, okay, just stop, come on - "
Cesca glared down at him - she was still a little taller than Leo; taller than a kid with a growth hormone deficiency, at least she had that going for her, she thought bitterly - and swiped at her dripping nose. "Leave me alone."
"Come on, please, you know he didn't mean it," Leo said, as if she hadn't said anything. "He's just - Geri has to be careful about tackles, you know he does, he got lectured two days ago about it, he's bigger than everybody so the refs pay attention. He didn't mean - "
"I don't care about - Geri can go fuck himself," she said furiously. "Carlos - "
Leo deflated. "He just doesn't want you to get hurt."
"I'm older than he is! I don't need him to - to - to fucking tell Geri he can't - I'm not some stupid airhead and I'm not a little girl and I can take the goddamn tackles!"
"You think I don't - " Leo stopped and looked away. "They're careful with me too," he said tightly. "You think I don't notice? I know I'm the smallest but I'm not - I just want to play."
"At least you'll grow," Cesca said. She sat on the grass and stared broodingly down at her own chest. She felt rather than saw Leo settle beside her. "All I'm going to grow are bigger goddamn tits."
He coughed, and when she glanced at him he was turning red. "They're not that big now," he said bravely. "So maybe they'll stay little."
"Thanks a ton." She shoved his shoulder, but not too hard; he didn't fall over. He pushed back, more as a formality than anything else. "I really appreciate your evaluation. You can do semi-annual check-ups, see how they're doing."
"Fuck you," Leo muttered. He let her rest her head on his shoulder for a minute before he added, "Come on, let's finish the game. We'll just keep scoring until Geri gets pissed enough to foul us again."
"Yeah, okay," Cesca said without moving. Leo got up and leaned down to her, holding out his hands to help her to her feet.
*
source: Twitter
*
Beijing was hot, and crowded, and Kun had been chattering at Leo non-stop since he arrived, but Leo was so relieved that he'd gotten there at all that he didn't even notice, let alone mind. Just unpacking his clothes and putting them away felt like liberation. He'd made it to the Olympics. Now all that was left was winning.
Eventually he tuned back into what Kun was saying, which was something about a tennis player who'd brought his Playstation and introducing Leo to some of the other athletes from Argentina. "We have to go to Cesca's game this afternoon," Leo said firmly.
"Ah, the mysterious Cesca, of whom I have heard so much. I hope her tits live up to my expectations," Kun snorted. Leo glared. "Wait, are you serious? You want to go watch the English women's team play?"
"You'll see," Leo said. "Watch her play, you'll see. The way she passes - you'll get it, okay."
"Yeah, you know, normal people don't fall in love with the way a girl kicks a football," Kun said.
"Shut up," Leo mumbled. "I'm not - it's not. Nobody passes like Cesca."
*
Carlos on life and football in England
Fabregas Week continues today on Arsenal.com with a feature which first appeared in the official Arsenal Magazine in April 2005.
The Spanish midfielder was interviewed alongside his clubmate and housemate, Philippe Senderos. The duo discuss their friendship, life in England, their progress at Arsenal and their hopes for the future…
…
How has living together helped you settle into life in England?
PS: It has been really good, you know? I was here first, for a few months, actually, in 2003, and then Carlos and his sister Cesca came to live at Noreen's too, and that has helped a lot, because I was injured and I would get lonely sometimes but they were always there to cheer me up. It's really frustrating not to play but Carlos would play videogames and talk with me, and Cesca used to take me to all my physio sessions. It kept me from feeling too down.
CF: Definitely living with Phil was so great when we first came, because Cesca and I didn't speak English very well and he was really patient when we needed him to translate everything for us! And English football is very different from what I was used to, so he had to help me with that too. But he's always looking out for us, you know, even now, he's like a big brother.
As you work together and live together, there must be times when you just want to get away from each other?
CF: You must not have siblings! Of course sometimes I want to get away, I don't want to be around my sister all the time either, but we're friends and we get along and if one of us needs space it's not a problem.
PS: I think we try to give each other room when we can, but like Carlos said, we're friends, so being around each other so much isn't a big deal.
How do you like living in Barnet?
PS: It's really nice! We don't really go out much but I've eaten at a few restaurants and they were nice. I think it's a good place to live. We're going to be looking for our own places soon, I'm already looking, actually, but Barnet is really nice.
CF: It's a nice neighborhood. Cesca and I are going to be moving out soon, too, so poor Noreen can have her house back, but we really like the neighborhood. It's quiet. Actually, Phil, we didn't ask you yet, do you want to move with us?
PS: I don't know, where are you moving to?
CF: Well, if you say yes you can help us pick!
PS: Okay, yes.
CF: Great! Cesca and I can't cook, we need him or we'll starve to death.
PS: There's always takeaway.
CF: And then we get fat and the coach will kill us so either way we die!
source: Arsenal.com
*
England won 3-1. Even Kun got into it by the end, and Leo was hoarse from cheering all three of Cesca's assists. He didn't watch games much, really; he'd rather be playing them. It was bizarre to feel so nervous about a result he couldn't change.
It was bizarre to feel nervous about seeing Cesca, too, but it had been a while. They talked on the phone a lot - more than a lot lately, when Leo had been waiting to see if he would be allowed to go to Beijing in the end and Cesca had been waiting to see if her team's qualification would be allowed to stand - but it wasn't the same.
He left Kun and went down to Cesca's locker room to say hello anyway. He meant to wait outside, but one of the other women on the team saw him and said something he didn't understand in English, and somehow he ended up being dragged inside. He didn't see Cesca at first, and he was trying to both look for her and not look at her teammates in various states of undress when something ran into him from behind. "You're here, you're here!" Cesca said excitedly. Leo managed to squirm around in her arms so he could see her properly, and her smile lit up her whole face. "I told you you'd make it, I told you," she said, hugging him even tighter. She hadn't showered yet, and she reeked. Leo didn't care. He put his arms around her and held on.
Eventually one of the English girls said something that made Cesca laugh and let go long enough to swat Leo in the back of the head. "And you, you fucker, why didn't you text me to say you were here? Some friend you are. Come here, I want you to meet - Kelly! Kelly!" Cesca's next words were an incomprehensible mess of English, but an older woman dropped her bag on the floor and came over, so Leo guessed that Cesca had been talking to her. "Leo, this is Kelly, that's Alex, that's Rachel, that's Anita - "
Kelly said something in English and then held out her hand to Leo. "Hello," she said carefully. "How are you?"
"I'm good," Leo said, shaking her hand. "And you?" Cesca giggled, and Kelly turned to her instead of answering Leo, going off in English again. Leo shuffled his feet awkwardly and waited.
"Hey, are you staying in the village?" Cesca finally asked. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"
"Uh, sure," Leo said.
She turned back to Kelly and had another rapid-fire exchange in English that ended with Cesca rolling her eyes and dragging Leo out the door. "Kelly says I should avoid being within a three-meter radius of anybody until I've had a shower, but whatever, you've smelled worse. I can take a shower at your place. Come on, let's get weird Chinese food on the way! Alex told me they sell fried scorpions here, can you believe that?"
"I'm not eating scorpions," Leo said, fumbling for his phone so he could text Kun. He didn't know why the thought of Cesca in his shower was making him blush. It was just Cesca.
"Aww, come on, I don't want to try them by myself!" she protested. "Don't be such a pussy."
"Bugs are not for eating," Leo said firmly. His Blackberry buzzed with a reply from Kun.
room's all yours! free olympic condoms in bedside drawer! ;)
Leo blushed even harder.
*
The Foreign Face of the WPL
Francesca Fabregas is a lovely young woman, a devoted sister, and an extraordinarily talented footballer. But should she really be the face of English women's football? She isn't even English.
Rod Liddle
Quick, name the starting eleven of the Arsenal Ladies. Can't manage it? Well, don't beat yourself up about it; I couldn't either. But the one name you - and I - could probably manage is Cesca Fabregas. Finally, women's football has a marketable face: talented, beautiful, charming Cesca. A poster of her in her Arsenal uniform hangs in the window of Nike's flagship store in London. She is forever in the tabloids for attending some charity banquet or concert with her brother, Carlos Fabregas, darling of women and Arsenal fans alike. If only she could acquire a pop-star for a boyfriend she could be the WPL's answer to David Beckham.
But what exactly is she famous for? No one, aside from the handful of Gunners fans so die-hard they even check the results of the women's team, had ever heard of Francesca Fabregas until May 2008, when Sky Sports aired a one-off television program called "The Carlos Fabregas Show: Nike Live," which (obviously) starred Carlos Fabregas in various sketches, but also featured his sister, along with Arsenal players such as Philippe Senderos and Nicklas Bendtner, coach Arsene Wenger, and Matt Lucas of Little Britain. Originally the filmmakers had planned to interview the Fabregas parents, but since Cesca speaks fluent English and was, after all, already there - at the time, she was sharing living quarters with her brother and Senderos - she was drafted instead and appeared in nearly all of the scenes.
She stole the show. Nike, intrigued by the marketing potential of her chemistry with her brother, signed an endorsement contract with her and began featuring both Fabregas siblings together in promotional campaigns, especially after Carlos Fabregas was awarded the captaincy of Arsenal in November 2008 (Cesca had been captain of the Ladies side for a year already). They were the primary faces of Nike's recent Men vs. Women Challenge in the UK. They are the Captains Fabregas, and they sell.
They're not just selling Nike boots, though. Indirectly, they are selling women's football. Attendance of the Arsenal Ladies' matches skyrocketed - in part influenced, no doubt, by Carlos Fabregas' efforts to bring his own, more famous teammates with him to watch his sister play. When the Arsenal Ladies won their third UEFA Women's Cup in May 2009, he was in the stands, and so were Lionel Messi, Thierry Henry, Theo Walcott, Gerard Pique, and Rafael Nadal. There was more media interest in the players watching the game than the ones on the pitch.
No-one could argue with the fact that English women's football needs the attention. The clubs have shockingly little money to spend on equipment, training grounds, even uniforms; they have even less to give to their players. Cesca receives no salary at all and was completely supported by her brother before she signed her contract with Nike. She continues to live rent-free in his house, and he still pays for the fashionable frocks she wears when they're out on the town. In a sense, the Fabregases encapsulate the parasitic relationship between Arsenal FC and the Arsenal Ladies: the women, despite having achieved vastly more success in recent years, are entirely dependent upon the goodwill and sufferance of their brother team.
Is that really the image that women's football wants to present?
And really, is Cesca Fabregas the image that English women's football wants to present? Yes, technically she is a British citizen. Yes, she plays for the English national team. Yes, she was instrumental in their campaign to qualify for the World Cup and then the Olympics, and even owns a bronze medal from Beijing for her pains. But like the charming Spanish accent in her otherwise perfect English, she will never entirely shake her origins in Barcelona, the city that has produced so much footballing talent, including her brother, for Spain. The one area in which the WPL is indisputably superior to the Premier League is its production and nurturing of local talent. It cannot lose that, and the prominence of Cesca Fabregas, the Spanish postergirl of English women's football, runs contrary to all national pride in the WPL.
On a less idealistic level, letting Fabregas become the pretty face that represents the league is simply ill-conceived. Sooner or later, she will leave; like so many of their countrymen, she and her brother will eventually ride off into the sunset toward other, warmer shores, Johnny and Jenny Foreigner headed home at last. If the WPL doesn't want all interest in their clubs and games to collapse when that day inevitably arrives, they need to promote the other girls. The English ones.
source: The Sunday Times
*
"And did you see my pass for 2-1?" Cesca yelled over the sound of water running in the bathroom. "I mean, Kelly's a fucking genius, she could score off of nothing, but fuck, that was an awesome assist."
Leo remembered the pass, the defenders scrambling when they realized it had split them down the middle, the perfect angle for another white jersey to just tap the ball into the net, the goalkeeper nowhere. "It was," he agreed.
The water shut off, and Cesca opened the door. "Hey, can I borrow a shirt or something? Mine's all gross and sweaty." The towel barely covered her to mid-thigh. Leo was used to seeing guys naked all the time in the locker room, but this was Cesca, and she was definitely not a guy. Kun's remark about her breasts floated into his mind, and he spent a distracted second hating Kun. Then he actually looked, and hated himself more.
"Leo?"
"Uh?" he choked.
"Leo, can I have a shirt?"
"I, uh, um - "
"Leo, the fuck is wrong with you?" Cesca put her hands on her hips. The towel, already precarious, slipped a few more millimeters.
"You're naked and I think I want to kiss you!" Leo blurted.
Cesca blinked, then looked down at herself. "Really? I mean, it's not - um. You think you want to kiss me, or you actually want to kiss me?"
Leo gulped. "I definitely want to kiss you."
"Oh," Cesca said. "Okay."
*
[IMAGE DESC. Three women in blue soccer jerseys standing together with their backs to a railing. A soccer pitch is visible behind them. The woman in the middle has her arms around the other two. At the bottom of the image, the following text is written: KELLY SMITH #10 FORWARD // CESCA FABREGAS #4 MIDFIELDER // ALEX SCOTT #22 DEFENDER.]
TRANSCRIPT
AS: So, hi, I'm Alex Scott, this is Kelly -
KS: I'm Kelly Smith -
AS: And we are very proud that we can finally present, in this exclusive interview, after a very long wait -
CF: It was one year!
AS: A very long wait, the woman, the legend, the assist machine, Cesca Fabregas!
CF: (laughter) You're awful! (more laughter) Hi, I'm Cesca Fabregas, I'm a midfielder and I'm a player for the Boston Breakers, I'm very happy to be here with these very special ladies -
AS: What's that supposed to mean?
CF: It means you're special and I'm happy to be here!
KS: Alex needs to work on her listening skills.
AS: I hear you just fine when you're shouting for the ball!
CF: Maybe we should keep a list of all the times we shout and Alex doesn't pass to us. She either has selective hearing or selective memory.
AS: (laughter) Okay, okay! Stick to the script! (to the camera) Since we have now had an entire week of team practice with the peerless Cesca, we thought she should answer some questions about her teammates. First of all, Cesca, who is your favorite teammate on the Boston Breakers?
CF: Not you! (laughter) No, no, you and Kelly are of course my favorites because I know you for so long, I was very very happy to come to Boston because I knew you would be here and I missed playing with you last year so much! But maybe Kelly is my most favorite because she lets me live in her apartment until I find a place of my own and she cooks better than me. So she is my favorite.
AS: I'm heartbroken. What if I cooked for you?
CF: Make me my mama's paella, you will be my favorite. Sorry, Kelly.
KS: I see how it is!
CF: But right now you are my favorite!
KS: I guess I better learn to make paella then so I'll stay that way.
CF: You make me paella, I make you assists, we will have the most beautiful friendship.
AS: And I'm left out in the cold again.
CF: Well, we have a special attackers bond! You cannot come between us!
AS: (to the camera) It's true.
source: YouTube
*
Leo wasn't sure what woke him up, and then he saw the blue glow of a cell phone screen reflected off of Cesca's face, and realized it had been the soft beeping of the keys. "What are you doing?" he yawned.
"Texting Kelly."
Leo had a sudden, horrific vision of every humiliating detail of their encounter being giggled over in English before Cesca's next practice. It hadn't gone perfectly, to put it kindly. "Oh," he managed.
Cesca looked up from her phone and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "She's my roommate. I didn't want her to wonder where I was, that's all."
"Oh," Leo repeated. "Um. Cesca, if I - I didn't - "
Cesca's smile dropped off her face. "Do you want me to go?"
"If I wasn't - if it wasn't - good," Leo barreled on helplessly.
"Oh." Cesca laughed. "Leo. It's fine. We'll just have to practice."
"Oh, okay," Leo said, relieved. He could handle practicing just fine.
*
source: Twitter
*
"Oh my god," Cesca said. Leo kept eating. "Leo. Leo. Leo, that's Rafael Nadal." Leo felt Kun jerk upright on his other side, and Cesca yanked at his sleeve until he finally looked up. "Leo he's coming over here oh my god Leo Rafael Nadal - "
"Hola," said Rafael Nadal. "You're Lionel Messi, no?"
"Yeah," Leo mumbled. Cesca let out a nearly inaudible squeak.
"I'm Rafa Nadal," Nadal said. Leo nodded awkwardly. "Can I have your autograph?"
"Uh, sure," Leo said blankly. "What do you want me to sign?"
Nadal beamed at him. "I appreciate it," he said, producing a football and a Sharpie. "I love to watch you play."
Leo felt a rush of tell-tale heat in his cheeks, and ducked his head a little. "You too," he managed. He signed the football and ventured a look up as he passed it back. Nadal was still grinning, his entire face crinkled with laugh-lines, and exuding enough charisma to knock over a horse.
"Thank you!" Nadal said cheerfully. "Good luck with your tournament, no?" He started to turn away. Leo glanced at Cesca, puzzled, and was met with an unfamiliar sight: she was completely speechless. He thought she might actually be paralyzed with adoration.
"Wait," he said. He offered Nadal's pen back to him. "Could you sign her shirt?"
"Sure, no problem," Nadal said, and then in very careful English to Cesca, "You come more closer, please, no?"
He scrawled his signature on her back, and when she turned around she finally blurted out in Catalan, "I hope you win gold!" The side of her face that Leo could see was brick red.
"Are you in the Spanish delegation?" Nadal asked, clearly taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you." His Catalan was so strangely accented that Leo could barely understand him.
"I play for England," Cesca said. "I live in London with my brother. But I was born in Barcelona."
"Oh," Nadal said politely. Cesca bit her lip, and Leo awkwardly put his hand on the small of her back. He knew why she didn't play for Spain - he'd been there when she decided not to play for Spain, and he'd let her practice explaining her decision to her brother on him - but no number of arguments about funding and organization and actually getting to play in major tournaments was going to make her feel better about the blank incomprehension on Nadal's face.
"Oh, hey, you found them!" One of the other guys from the Argentina delegation - a tennis player, Leo thought; he and Kun had hit it off - came jogging up. He and Nadal hugged, and Kun waved. "I thought I was going to have to haul you over and ask for his autograph for you, you pussy. Anyway, I was going to tell you, we were thinking about having a Playstation tournament after dinner, you in? All of you," he added in the the general direction of Kun and Leo. "Bring your girlfriend, if you want."
Leo reflexively grabbed Cesca's arm, even though she'd mostly grown out of punching people when they pissed her off. "Thanks," he said. "But - "
"Sure, let's go," Cesca said. Leo turned to stare at her. "What? It'll be fun. I'll kick your ass."
"Cool!" The tennis player - Monaco, that was his name - grinned at them. "Kun knows where my room is. See you later, okay? Rafa, we've got the practice court in five minutes, and I think your uncle is waiting."
"Shit," Nadal said succinctly, and bolted.
"What was that?" Leo whispered as Cesca sat back down to finish her lunch. "I've never seen you get like that before."
"Yeah, well," she said, her mouth twisted ruefully. "I've never met Guardiola, either."
Leo thought about that while she dug into her pasta. "So what do I get for getting Nadal's autograph for you? Cesca?" He poked her in the side.
She looked up and grinned. "I don't know, what do you want?"
*
Stunted Style: There's No Such Thing As Formal Sneakers
Category: Fashion, English Premier League, Women's Premier League, The Captains Fabregas, Dressed At Gunpoint
It pains us to admit it, Kickette soldier boys and girls, but we think it might be time to take a stand. As you know, our unwavering adoration and admiration for the lovely, down-to-earth Francesca Fabregas (older sister of perennial Finest Five member Carlos Fabregas, captain of the Arsenal Ladies, and prime reason behind the creation of our Gentlemen's Auxiliary) has led us to waive our usual standards of fashion analysis before. And we stand by our decision: girl's a career athlete, not a career WAG. If we don't judge the menfolk for an unvarying t-shirt, jeans and sneakers combo on their way to and from practice, it would be rankest sexism for us to take issue with Cesca's daily wardrobe decisions - espesh since we have yet to spy her toting a manpurse around. (We assure you that if she ever acquires a piece of man-candy to parade about, once we finish crying in the ladies room over the impossibility of ever fulfilling our lesbian fantasies, he will be subjected to the same stringent levels of scrutiny that you have come to expect of us where the significant others of 'ballers are concerned.) But - BUT -
When the gentlemen are done up in tuxes for a night out on the town, we say it's game on for the ladies, too. And Cesca is usually to be relied upon for these occasions, so it's not like we're calling her out as a repeat offender. We love you, Cesca! We're just a little concerned. She looked gorgeous as usual… down to the knees. (Well, okay, we think the skirt's a little short, but when you've got legs like Cesca Fabregas you can get away with it.) And then, this:
We know, Cesca. We understand. Your love for your converses is well-documented and it must have been so tempting to finally own a pair for formal occasions. But we have to break it to you: there's no such thing as formal sneakers. Adding plastic platform heels to your tennis shoes doesn't dress them up; it just makes them tacky.
Not, of course, that she's even feeling the heat for this faux pas in the wider media, since as per usual Getty Images has mistakenly labeled her in all of their photos as her brother's notoriously media-shy girlfriend, Carla Dona Garcia. Still marginally less creepy than the time they got Cesca's name right but called her his wife.
What do you think, Kickette Army? Are we right to censure our beloved idol for letting us down on the fashion front, or are her shoes totally within the realms of sartorial acceptability - or even just totally awesome? Drop a comment and let us know!
source: Kickette.com
*
When the whistle finally blew, all Leo could think was we won, we won, and he hugged Kun so hard he could barely breathe while Kun half-sang, half-shouted in his ear, "No te deja, no te deja de alentar!" They all ran back onto the pitch, screaming and hugging and crying, and Leo sang "Vamos, vamos Argentina," until his voice cracked.
If he'd said Cesca so much as crossed his mind, he would have been lying; he had completely forgotten she existed, or that anything existed besides his teammates in blue and white and the medals that were going to be put around their necks. He only remembered when they finally headed back to the locker room, and he looked up and saw her in the stands looking down at him, just fucking beaming, and he thought, without any real consciousness of it, I will never see anything more beautiful than this.
"Cesca!" he screamed up at her. She was leaning down over the railing, laughing, her face covered in smeared blue and white paint; she was Cesca and Argentina and football and he didn't know - he didn't know what he even wanted to say, but it was bubbling up inside him and he had to open his mouth or he thought he was going to explode. "Cesca, I love you!"
"You beautiful little fucker!" she hollered back. The flag draped over her shoulders slipped, and all she was wearing under it was the sports bra that went with her away kit. She was burnt pink and dripping with sweat in the Beijing summer sun and Leo had seen her naked before, more than once, but his mouth still went dry. "I love you too!"
*
[IMAGE DESC. A teenage boy wearing an Arsenal jersey being interviewed by a reporter.]
TRANSCRIPT
INT: Congratulations on your goal, you're the youngest player to ever score for Arsenal's first team.
CF: Thank you.
INT: We noticed your dedication of the goal, was it to anyone in particular? A new lady in your life?
CF: (laughter) You get me in trouble with my girlfriend! No, no, is not for - is for my sister, no? Because she come with me from Spain, she leave home to be here with me, so I want to say her, thank you. This is my first goal, no? But all my goals, they are for her.
source: YouTube
*
Carlos didn't even bother to knock on Leo's door before he used the spare key he'd swiped from Geri and walked in. He only had a couple of days in Barcelona before he had to go back to London, and he wanted to see Leo, and the fucker wasn't answering his Blackberry, which had to be a first since he'd bought the damn thing. Ergo, Leo was sleeping, and would no doubt be delighted to have Carlos wake him up by jumping on him.
The weird noises registered while Carlos was in the hall, and he followed them into Leo's living room. "What the hell, are you watching porn in here or - son of a bitch."
Leo wasn't watching porn. He could have been acting in it, though, considering that he was naked, sweaty and on top of a woman. Who happened to be Carlos' sister.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" Cesca demanded, shoving herself upright on the couch and pushing Leo along with her. Carlos focused his eyes on Leo's tattoo of his mother and tried not to think about why that movement had made Leo squeak or the fact that Leo's torso was the only thing covering Cesca's breasts. "Get out!"
"You're having sex with Leo," Carlos said blankly. "You're having sex. With Leo."
"Well not anymore you cockblocking little fuck," Cesca snapped. In the silence, the television suddenly blared GOOOOOOL! Gol de Barcelona!
"You're having sex with Leo while watching a Barcelona match," Carlos said. "This has to be a nightmare."
"Do I criticize the nineties pop music you play every time Carla spends the night? No, because I am a good sister who doesn't fucking walk in on you having sex. Christ. Would you just - go into the kitchen, all right? I'm getting dressed."
"With Leo. Leo," Carlos muttered, but he retreated to the kitchen, where he spent a good ten minutes trying to unravel the mysteries of Leo's coffee machine while he definitely did not speculate about why Cesca could be taking so long to put on her clothes. Or the box of condoms he'd seen on the floor by the couch. At least she was using condoms, he thought, or he would have, if he were thinking about it. Which he wasn't.
"Okay, fuckwit," Cesca said. He silently offered her the first cup of coffee. She accepted it, so she wasn't actually planning to kill him.
"So," he said awkwardly. She sat down at the table and stared at him, baleful and cranky, but that wasn't so different from when he accidentally woke her up from a nap. She was wearing a Barcelona training shirt that had to belong to Leo, though, and that was enough to remind him that this was actually nothing like leaving the volume on the TV up too loud while he played videogames in the living room so Cesca came crashing out of her bedroom and then ended up playing with him for three hours instead of going back to bed. "So, you and Leo."
"Yeah," she said.
"So, um. How long has that been going on?"
"The Olympics."
"Oh." At least she hadn't - hadn't lied about it, or kept it a secret forever, he thought, even if she hadn't told him, and he'd called her and babbled for an hour after the first time Carla let him kiss her. "Oh, okay."
"I wasn't - Carlos." She frowned. "Carlos, I would have told you. It was just - you know, the Olympics, and you weren't there, and Kelly was - I don't know, she didn't think it was a good idea, and I wasn't sure if - I would have told you, okay. I would have told you when I came home."
"We are home," he said, because he couldn't quite let it go. Her suitcase was in their mother's house and so was his, even if she hadn't been there that morning when his flight got in.
"Home in London, god, don't be stupid," she said impatiently.
"Oh," he said again. "Okay. Um. So, should I - I mean, Leo."
She sighed. "Look, don't - I can take care of myself, okay? You don't have to do anything."
"I just meant - "
"Uh, should I - ?" Leo had drifted into the kitchen, thankfully fully dressed. He looked embarrassed and lost and Carlos felt - it was Leo's fucking kitchen. He shouldn't look lost in his own kitchen.
"Hey," Cesca said, holding out her hand. Leo shuffled over and took it, and then yelped when she yanked hard enough to make him fall onto her lap. "Hey," she repeated, almost too quietly for Carlos to hear.
"Hey," Leo said. Cesca put her arms around his waist and he relaxed perceptibly back into her.
"So you have to treat Cesca right," Carlos said. "Or I'll kill you."
"Carlos - " Cesca snapped.
"And you have to promise to be nice to Leo," he went on doggedly. "Okay?"
"Oh," Leo said. Over his shoulder, Carlos could see Cesca smiling at him.
"Okay," she said. "I promise."
*
source: Twitter
*
The club was pretty dark and very loud, and Leo didn't really feel like partying, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ruin anyone else's night, or even just get up and leave on his own. Instead he took another sip of his disgustingly sweet drink and scanned the crowd of bodies on the dancefloor until he located Cesca's bright red dress. She was clinging to Geri like an octopus, which could have been upsetting, except that Leo wasn't the jealous type and also he was pretty sure she was just too drunk to stand on her own. As he watched, Carlos came up to them and Cesca transferred her hold on Geri's waist to Carlos' neck. He wasn't sure if she was actually trying to dance or just wobbling.
"You don't look like you're having fun," Carla said. Leo jumped, and knocked over his drink. They both scrambled for napkins. "Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't - "
"It was awful anyway," Leo said, shrugging. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay." Carla flashed a quick smile. "But you're not off the hook, you know. What's wrong?"
"Not really my kind of party," Leo said wryly. "And it's not like I've got much to celebrate."
She winced. "Sorry. I didn't - sorry."
"No, it's not - it's fine, you know? It's not every day your country wins the World Cup." Leo shook himself, trying to get rid of his mood. "Why aren't you out there dancing, too?"
Carla laughed. "Let's just say this isn't really my kind of party either."
Leo toasted her with his empty glass. He couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't bitter or self-pitying and Carla never seemed to mind the quiet, so the silence could have stretched out indefinitely, but Cesca interrupted before it could reach awkward lengths. "I am so drunk," she announced behind Leo. He caught her arm before her stumble could turn into an actual fall. "So, so drunk. Leo, I brought you a - a - I don't know what this is." Leo squinted at the drink in her hands. He didn't know what it was either, but it looked like a fishbowl full of ice and glass cleaner. "But it's for you!" Cesca added cheerfully.
"Thank you," Leo said.
"Cesca, could you tell Carlos that Leo and I are going back to the hotel?" Carla asked. Leo looked at her sharply. "I'm really tired."
Cesca blinked. "The hotel?"
"I'm tired," Carla said. "Leo is going to walk me back."
"Oh, tired," Cesca said. She set the goldfish bowl of blue alcohol on the table and put her arms around Carla with a total disregard for her personal space, or the fact that every exposed inch of her own skin was shiny with sweat. "Carla. Carla. You don't want to dance?"
"Not right now," Carla said patiently. "Right now I'm tired. We're going to go back, okay?"
"Back," Cesca repeated. "Oh. The hotel. Okay, stay here. I'll be right back."
"No, we're going to - oh, for god's sake," Carla said. Cesca was already gone; she shimmied and slithered away through the crowd with the kind of ease that only very drunk people ever seemed to achieve. Leo was pretty sure that if he'd tried to follow her he would have gotten approximately two meters before someone stepped on his foot or cracked an elbow into his nose, but Cesca got to Carlos and dragged him back before Leo could even work up the nerve to try the contents of the fishbowl.
"Where are we going?" Carlos asked, swaying.
Carla just looked at him, hands on her hips. "I'll take Cesca if you take Carlos," she said at last. "Come on."
Leo draped one of Carlos' arms over his shoulders, put his own arm around his waist and started to edge towards the exit. Carla seemed to be navigating Cesca with just a linked elbow, but he didn't feel up to that sort of challenge. The night air as they spilled out into the street was like coming up from underwater after the smoky club, and Leo breathed in. It was that strange sort of moment when you looked around yourself and were suddenly, inexplicably grateful to be alive: maybe he hadn't won the World Cup, maybe his team had gone out in utterly humiliating fashion and he hadn't scored a single goal, but night in Ibiza was beautiful and he would be back in Barcelona soon, and that was Cesca's voice up ahead, rambling about what would happen if Gossip Girl were about football players. Life was pretty good.
"Leo," Carlos said. "Leo."
"Yeah?"
"Leo, I wish you were Spanish," Carlos said very seriously.
"I like being from Argentina," Leo said.
"I know," Carlos sighed. He put his head on Leo's shoulder; Leo just hoped he wasn't drooling. Carla glanced back at them with a sympathetic grimace. "I just wish we could play together again."
"Come back to Barcelona," Leo suggested, which was glib and unhelpful but was also sort of something he wanted badly enough that he couldn't say it out loud completely sober. He wasn't - he was happy, he liked his life, he wasn't pining, no matter what fucking Geri thought, but he wanted Carlos and Cesca to come home. Knowing that they were probably better off where they were didn't actually help.
"Maybe someday," Carlos said. He pressed a wet, smacking kiss to Leo's cheek. "I miss you too, hombre."
"Fuck off, Carlos, you can't have him!" Cesca yelled.
"You fuck off, he should be so lucky! Everybody knows I'm the pretty one!" Carlos started windmilling his free arm in Cesca's general direction. Leo wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but he was deeply grateful to arrive at the hotel without anyone falling over or breaking something.
"Trade you," Carla said with a sigh. Leo helped her wrestle Carlos into their room and left her to handle the rest. Cesca, thankfully, had stayed where they left her, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
"Leo, you don't care I'm not the pretty one, right?" she asked as he tried to unlock their door. "You don't like Carlos better than me?"
"Of course I like you best," Leo said, distracted. He finally got the door open and turned around to get Cesca inside; she was staring at him with a ridiculous pout than only got more pronounced as he half-carried, half-dragged her to bed. "Cesca, you're my best friend. I'll always like you best. And I think you're prettier than everyone else in the world, but I wouldn't care if you were - I don't know, if you were ugly and scarred and cross-eyed. Your football is beautiful."
"Oh." Cesca blinked up at him. Leo felt utterly ridiculous, even though she probably wouldn't remember a word he'd said in the morning, but he still let her pull him down to the bed beside her when she held out her arms. "Leo, I love you too." For a moment, Leo wondered how it was even possible for anyone to understand another person as well as Cesca, half-asleep and falling-down drunk, understood him. Then she climbed onto his lap and kissed him, sloppy and insistent, and he didn't really care anymore.
"Cesca," he panted. She kept rocking back and forth as she stabbed her tongue into his mouth, a nasty dare to go her one better. Leo sucked on her tongue until she came up for air moaning, but the pressure on his rapidly hardening cock was infuriating, enough to tease but not anything more, so he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her over on the bed, and covered her body with his own. "Cesca, you want - "
"You gonna fuck me?" She grinned at him, bright and challenging in the dim lamp-light. Leo felt her legs wrap around his waist and couldn't help the involuntary buck of his hips. "That's what I want."
"Yeah, okay, fuck - " and Cesca didn't unhook her legs behind his back but she reached down to rub at herself through her underwear, and god but he needed to be inside her. "Fuck, okay, hang on, I have to get - Cesca, I will be right back."
"Don't take too long, I'm not going to wait for you," she said lazily. He made the mistake of looking back at her and nearly walked into the bathroom door. She'd gotten her underwear down to her ankles and left it there, her dress flipped up and her thighs spread. She wasn't putting on a show; her eyes were closed, and he could tell by now when she was doing something just to turn him on, because that was the only time she was loud. She was fingering herself because she was too impatient to wait for him to get back and do it for her.
"Fuck," Leo said again, low and heartfelt, and ducked into the bathroom to look for condoms. It didn't really help that his hands were shaking. "Sorry, sorry," he added when he finally came back into the bedroom. It had taken over five minutes of digging through various toiletries to find the condoms, and he didn't really want to know why Cesca had packed them with her razors. "I didn't mean to - are you fucking serious."
She looked so innocent, passed out in a sprawl across the bed, that for a moment Leo almost felt guilty for being annoyed, and then he had to laugh. "I'm never letting you live this down," he murmured, settling beside her head. She twitched in her sleep, turning towards him, and he brushed a finger over her cheek. "Months of mockery, I promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went to go jerk off in the shower.
*
Lionel Messi: Off The Market?
Category: La Liga, Hook Ups, Rumour Mill
Leo Messi & ???
UPDATE: Messi has semi-refuted his grandfather's comments from earlier this week by saying at a presser today: "There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. Nothing has changed in my personal life. Right now I'm very happy concentrating on my football."
Grasping at straws, we know, but he did say that nothing had changed, not that he was single…
According to Messi's loud-mouth Grandpa, the one 'baller so in love with the game that he's never had time for a girlfriend (maybe this is why he's the best in the world? other players, take note!) might not be so single after all. Asked whether he hoped for more descendants from his superstar grandkid, Gramps responded that he would love to see some sprogs, and said superstar grandkid would love to get to the business of making them, but his girlfriend doesn't want children. Imaginary S.O. invented to placate the family at Christmas (footballers! they're just like us!), or super-secret ladyfriend kept under wraps? Let us know what you think in the comments!
source: Kickette.com
*
"You should do something about that," Cesca's mother said behind her. Cesca hummed in vague acknowledgement, more interested in watching Leo play with her cousins. He could never say no to them, so he'd already ended up roped into giving piggyback rides, and she gave him five minutes before the youngest one was using him as a pony. "Cesca. Are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, Mama," Cesca said reflexively.
"That man wants children," Nuria said. "He's not going to wait forever. When are you going to settle down and give him some?"
"Mother," Cesca hissed. "For god's sake. My job involves running really fast for ninety minutes and sometimes getting knocked over by women twice my size. I can't do that if I'm pregnant."
"Your job, your job, always with your job. You think Lionel Messi's wife needs a job?"
"I love my job. And Leo isn't - I have no interest in living off Leo's money, all right?"
"You've lived off your brother's money all your life," Nuria said dismissively. Cesca gaped at her, too furious even to speak. "It's a little late to be developing scruples about that. Do you love your job more than you love Leo? Because sooner or later it will be one or the other, and your job won't be there to take care of you fifty years from now."
"I think you and Dad have given me plenty of evidence that marrying someone and having kids doesn't guarantee that they'll stay with you for the next fifteen years, let alone fifty," Cesca snapped, and was viciously pleased when her mother's face went white. "And I don't know how my relationship with Leo is any of your business."
"I'm trying to help you," Nuria said stiffly. "But if you can't appreciate that then I'll leave you alone."
"You do that." Cesca stood her ground and watched her mother walk away. It wasn't all that satisfying, but at least she had her pride.
She managed to hold it together until the end of the party, or at least she faked it well enough to pass, although Carlos kept giving her strange looks and he tried to corner her once on her way to the bathroom. Cesca pretended not to notice; she wasn't going to ruin his birthday over yet another fight with their mother. She only had a few hours to spend in Barcelona before she had to fly back for training and she had no intention of wasting them on something pointless and unpleasant.
It bothered her, though. She knew it shouldn't have, that her mother never had and never would understand why she needed to play, but still - "You want kids, don't you?" she asked abruptly, halfway through the drive to the airport. Leo glanced at her sidelong and then back at the road.
"Someday, yeah."
"You're twenty-seven," she said flatly. "'Someday' isn't that far off now."
"Cesca, what - "
"And I can't - I'm not going to retire for years. So maybe it shouldn't be with me."
"I don't want a family, I want our family," Leo said. He took one hand off the steering wheel and, without looking, flicked her in the cheek. "I can wait."
*
sings the revolution, part ii