4.
Title: Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cesc Fàbregas/Robin van Persie
Disclaimer: Complete fiction
From the second his alarm had gone off and Cesc had somehow managed to fall out of bed in his haste to either turn it off or hit the snooze button (he couldn’t remember which one), he knew it was going to be a bad day― or at the very least a bad morning.
He lies on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling while his alarm continued to blare somewhere above his head. He asks himself if the Lost marathon that had kept him up had been worth it.
Sighing, he pushes himself off the floor, turns off his alarm and then drops facedown back into bed. When his phone rings, he sticks his hand out and feels around his table until his fingers curl around his phone. He squints at the screen and sees My Dutchman and smiles in spite of how horrible he feels.
“Mmflpfr,” he says.
There’s a slight pause. “Cesc?”
“Mmm.”
“Are you still asleep? Training starts in thirty minutes.” Robin somehow manages to sound concerned and amused all at once, and Cesc is tempted to tell him to shut up, even though he has no reason to.
“I know,” he manages to mumble. “Mmup.”
Robin laughs. “I missed that.”
Stupid perky Dutchman. “I said I’m up,” Cesc stresses as if Robin was stupid.
“Yes, sounds like it.” There was that amused tone again. “I was calling to see if you wanted a ride to training.”
Cesc considers this. It would be easier on him and maybe he could sneak in a small nap on the drive to the training ground. “No, I’m up, I was just about to leave.” And even though he thinks better of it, he adds, spitefully, “I’ll probably beat you there too.”
Robin has the audacity to chuckle. “Alright. See you soon. Try not to be late or you’ll have to pay Manuel’s late fines.”
Cesc makes a comment about what Manuel can do with his late fines, and when Robin says that that wasn’t very mature, he makes a derogatory comment about him too.
“You’re terrible,” Robin says fondly before he hangs up.
Cesc grumbles darkly as he viciously changes My Dutchman to Robin is LAME and swears when his phone won’t let him add an exclamation mark. He shoves his phone underneath his pillow and groans. That Lost marathon had definitely not been worth it.
---
And okay, after his initial slow start, he really had tried to make it to training in time. He had given up breakfast for the most disgusting coffee he had ever had in his life, and it wasn’t his fault that the traffic had been awful.
“There was traffic,” he insists, while thinking that Manuel shouldn’t look so smug while trying to extort money from him.
“I know there was traffic,” Manuel replies, calmly. “There was traffic when I was on my way here. Thirty minutes ago. Everyone else has to pay if they’re late.”
Cesc knows it’s low and he should be ashamed of himself for playing the captain card, but he finds himself, indignantly, saying, “But I’m the captain!” anyway.
He looks away when he sees Tomáš raise an eyebrow at him and when Phil gives him a look that clearly says, Really, Cesc? he is ashamed.
An apology is on his lips, when Manuel says, “That’s even more reason for you to pay. You’re the captain, you’re supposed to be the example.”
“If Cesc doesn’t pay, I want my money back from Tuesday,” William says.
Manuel gives Cesc a reproachful look. “See what I mean? You’re not exempt, just because you’re captain.”
Cesc glares at the goalkeeper, as he viciously reaches into his pockets. He had just handed Manuel the money, when he hears, “I think Cesc should pay double because he’s captain.”
Cesc sees Samir smirking at him.
Manuel looks at him, approvingly. “That is a very good point.” He holds out the tin container at Cesc and waits.
Cesc throws the money in and mumbles under his breath as he stomps towards his locker. He doesn’t feel any better when Robin discreetly places his hand on the small of Cesc’s back on his way out.
It does help when he accidentally kicks Samir’s bottle under one of the benches, and he swears it’s an accident when a stray ball smacks the French midfielder in the face.
“You’re terrible,” Robin says after practice, as he massages Cesc’s shoulders, which were sore after he had tripped over Samir’s foot.
“Terrible as in…formidably great?” Cesc says, his fingers moving around the keypad of his phone.
Robin laughs. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘extremely bad’, but I suppose ‘formidably great’ is correct too,” he says, kissing the top of Cesc’s head.
Cesc smiles and looks at the screen. My Dutchman. He presses his finger down on the button under Save.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cesc Fàbregas/Robin van Persie
Disclaimer: Complete fiction
From the second his alarm had gone off and Cesc had somehow managed to fall out of bed in his haste to either turn it off or hit the snooze button (he couldn’t remember which one), he knew it was going to be a bad day― or at the very least a bad morning.
He lies on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling while his alarm continued to blare somewhere above his head. He asks himself if the Lost marathon that had kept him up had been worth it.
Sighing, he pushes himself off the floor, turns off his alarm and then drops facedown back into bed. When his phone rings, he sticks his hand out and feels around his table until his fingers curl around his phone. He squints at the screen and sees My Dutchman and smiles in spite of how horrible he feels.
“Mmflpfr,” he says.
There’s a slight pause. “Cesc?”
“Mmm.”
“Are you still asleep? Training starts in thirty minutes.” Robin somehow manages to sound concerned and amused all at once, and Cesc is tempted to tell him to shut up, even though he has no reason to.
“I know,” he manages to mumble. “Mmup.”
Robin laughs. “I missed that.”
Stupid perky Dutchman. “I said I’m up,” Cesc stresses as if Robin was stupid.
“Yes, sounds like it.” There was that amused tone again. “I was calling to see if you wanted a ride to training.”
Cesc considers this. It would be easier on him and maybe he could sneak in a small nap on the drive to the training ground. “No, I’m up, I was just about to leave.” And even though he thinks better of it, he adds, spitefully, “I’ll probably beat you there too.”
Robin has the audacity to chuckle. “Alright. See you soon. Try not to be late or you’ll have to pay Manuel’s late fines.”
Cesc makes a comment about what Manuel can do with his late fines, and when Robin says that that wasn’t very mature, he makes a derogatory comment about him too.
“You’re terrible,” Robin says fondly before he hangs up.
Cesc grumbles darkly as he viciously changes My Dutchman to Robin is LAME and swears when his phone won’t let him add an exclamation mark. He shoves his phone underneath his pillow and groans. That Lost marathon had definitely not been worth it.
---
And okay, after his initial slow start, he really had tried to make it to training in time. He had given up breakfast for the most disgusting coffee he had ever had in his life, and it wasn’t his fault that the traffic had been awful.
“There was traffic,” he insists, while thinking that Manuel shouldn’t look so smug while trying to extort money from him.
“I know there was traffic,” Manuel replies, calmly. “There was traffic when I was on my way here. Thirty minutes ago. Everyone else has to pay if they’re late.”
Cesc knows it’s low and he should be ashamed of himself for playing the captain card, but he finds himself, indignantly, saying, “But I’m the captain!” anyway.
He looks away when he sees Tomáš raise an eyebrow at him and when Phil gives him a look that clearly says, Really, Cesc? he is ashamed.
An apology is on his lips, when Manuel says, “That’s even more reason for you to pay. You’re the captain, you’re supposed to be the example.”
“If Cesc doesn’t pay, I want my money back from Tuesday,” William says.
Manuel gives Cesc a reproachful look. “See what I mean? You’re not exempt, just because you’re captain.”
Cesc glares at the goalkeeper, as he viciously reaches into his pockets. He had just handed Manuel the money, when he hears, “I think Cesc should pay double because he’s captain.”
Cesc sees Samir smirking at him.
Manuel looks at him, approvingly. “That is a very good point.” He holds out the tin container at Cesc and waits.
Cesc throws the money in and mumbles under his breath as he stomps towards his locker. He doesn’t feel any better when Robin discreetly places his hand on the small of Cesc’s back on his way out.
It does help when he accidentally kicks Samir’s bottle under one of the benches, and he swears it’s an accident when a stray ball smacks the French midfielder in the face.
“You’re terrible,” Robin says after practice, as he massages Cesc’s shoulders, which were sore after he had tripped over Samir’s foot.
“Terrible as in…formidably great?” Cesc says, his fingers moving around the keypad of his phone.
Robin laughs. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘extremely bad’, but I suppose ‘formidably great’ is correct too,” he says, kissing the top of Cesc’s head.
Cesc smiles and looks at the screen. My Dutchman. He presses his finger down on the button under Save.