(no subject)
title: the unremarkable tidbits.
pairings: sergio ramos/fernando torres, xabi alonso/steven gerrard.
rating: r.
disclaimer: i'm lying.
word count: 4,117.
notes: as usual this is entirely for slobbering boo, because she's completely desperate for fic!!!!!!! i was trying to make this one light, and the whole timeline thing might be a little confusing. i tried fixing it, i hope i did! hahaha. i like completely forgot why i started it out like that anyway. hahahahahaha. OH WELL.
(December 2006.)
Fernando doesn’t understand how deep in he is until Sergio goes to visit Seville for holiday break. Suddenly Fernando is absolutely (painfully) alone. It is the longest they’ve been separated in a long time, and lost doesn’t even begin to cover how Fernando feels. The first night, he calls Olalla and talks to her until she falls asleep. He ends up falling asleep on the couch with the phone pressed up against his ear. He wakes up sometime around 3 in the morning and stumbles to his room. He’s surprised to see the outline of a body in his bed. For a moment, he thinks it’s Sergio. It doesn’t take long for him to shake off the drowsy confusion and remember that Sergio had stuffed it with pillows so Fernando would "have someone to talk to". Fernando pulls back the covers anyway (just to make sure), hates that he feels so fucking disappointed when all he sees are a couple of pillows. “This sucks,” he says aloud.
(December 2008.)
Stevie doesn’t understand how deep in he is until he starts sleeping in the same bed as Xabi. Xabi has stayed over a lot, when Nagore is off in Spain and Alex is at her parents'. It's always been nothing more than friendly. This time isn't the same because Stevie pretends to hear something in his room as an excuse to stay with Xabi in the guestroom.
Everything is different at night. Distorted. It’s like another reality, with Xabi pressed against him-asleep. It’s like another reality, with Xabi’s soft sighs next to his ear. It’s as if everything is slightly blurred around the edges, and it makes Stevie think that what they do isn’t wrong, that what they do at night doesn’t truly exist as soon as the sun comes up. It’s another level of their friendship, one they don’t really talk about during the day, but it’s soft and it’s theirs, buried under blankets that never smell specifically of either one of them, but both of them combined-together.
The first time, Xabi mutters something under his breath, so gentle that Stevie wonders if he has imagined it. It sounds a lot like: I love you. He wants to ask if that means they can kiss for real now, not just stolen presses of lips against shirts or hair, lost because they’re not really acknowledged as meaning anything more than maybe, someday, perhaps.
He says nothing though, just shifts closer, and breaths in Xabi’s smell. He runs his hand lightly over the slight curve of Xabi’s hipbone, and wishes for more. Xabi exhales and snuggles back into Stevie’s embrace.
Stevie never wants the sun to come up again.
(December 2006.)
On the second night Sergio’s away, Fernando regrets not taking Sergio’s offer to go to Seville with him. His family would love Fernando, Sergio had said, and Fernando had laughed. He tidies his flat instead, cleans every single surface and it’s odd because Fernando never cleans. Olalla comes over and stands aghast when she sees that everything polishable in sight is glaring violently at them under the lights. He laughs at her and tells her she’s being overdramatic when she asks, “Who are you and what have you done with my Fernando?” She leaves at one point, and Fernando is left alone with nothing but himself and his mind.
His place is excruciatingly boring without Sergio popping in at random times. Fernando sits around half expecting Sergio to walk in through the door and raid his refrigerator at any given moment. He sits around hoping for it. Although he’d never tell Sergio that.
Fernando sits on his couch and wonders when he became so dependent on Sergio Ramos. He knows for a fact that if Sergio was here, he’d be sitting on Fernando’s chest by now, trying to stick his finger or some kind of vegetable or even a stick up Fernando’s nostril (and Fernando would be trying to punch him or kick him or something to get him out of his face), or at the very least, he’d be tickling him mercilessly until tears of laughter streamed down his face. Fernando smiles and tries to pretend that his mind hasn’t rewound and paused on the part where Sergio’s straddling him, looking at him, hands touching him. Fernando shakes his head, trying to clear it. He sits up and looks around the room for something else to clean. Something. Anything. Anything to get Sergio fucking Ramos out of his head. When Olalla calls him to go out for dinner, he almost cries with relief.
(December 2008.)
The second time, they don’t talk for the whole next day. Xabi stays away from Stevie for the majority of it. Stevie looks and looks and looks for him all over Melwood, but he can’t seem to find him anywhere. Xabi hides in the weight room for most of the day, and hopes that Stevie doesn’t come looking for him. Stevie ends up sitting on a Carra's couch at the get-together that night, hopes to see Xabi when (if) he walks in. He sits there wondering what the fuck he did wrong, and why Xabi is avoiding him. He wanted this too, goddamn it.
In the end, Xabi goes to the party and looks around for Stevie. He walks around for 30 minutes, mingling with everyone, asking if they’ve seen Captain Fantastic. Xabi finally finds him in the bathroom of one of Carra's bedrooms, because there aren’t very many places for Stevie to hide (he’s sick of sitting on the couch, waiting to see if Xabi will show up when he realizes he probably won't, so he ends up going upstairs to take a nap). Xabi strides up to him and pushes him against the sink, fists hands into his hair and Stevie can’t think of a single damn word to say.
Xabi whispers, “I want,” against Stevie’s chin.
Stevie doesn’t even bother letting him finish. Just says, “Thank god,” as well as he can against Xabi’s mouth, leaning forward to press their lips together.
(December 2006.)
On the third day, Fernando’s phone rings around 6 pm. Fernando knows because he’s watching the news (look at what my life has become, he thinks), and the newscaster says repeatedly, “You are now watching the 6 o’clock news.”
It bothers him how his heart begins to thud (how he seems to smile a real smile for the first time since Sergio’s left) when he sees Sergio’s name on the caller id. He flips open his phone. “Hey, Loser.”
Sergio laughs. “Is that how you greet me, after days of not seeing my beautiful face, or hearing my musical voice?”
Fernando’s smile only widens. “It’s only been three, I think I can survive.”
Sergio snorts. “Wow, three. You’ve kept count.”
Fernando blushes slightly and thanks god that Sergio isn’t there to see him. “Aren’t you supposed to be spending time with your family or something?”
“Family? What’s that?”
Fernando can hear Sergio’s smile when he says it. He smiles quietly. “So, why’d you call?”
“I miss you, kind of. I guess.” Sergio replies, mock-casual, voice wavering like he regrets even thinking it.
Fernando wiggles his toes against his silk comforter spread out over his legs. “I don’t miss you at all, you dirty slob.” He grins at the laughter that explodes at the other end. “If you were an animal, you’d be a filthy, useless rat.”
“You fucking asshole.” It’s the most adoringly spoken insult Fernando’s ever heard. They sigh simultaneously, easing back into silence.
Fernando listens to the sound of Sergio’s breathing. Inhale. Exhale. In and out, until the pattern is etched into Fernando’s brain. They stay quiet for a few more moments, and then Fernando hears a girl talking to Sergio. He groans and says into the phone, “I got to go.”
“Who is that?” Fernando asks, a slight (unnecessary) edge in his voice.
“It’s just Miriam, Niño.” Sergio laughs softly, in a reassuring manner. And Fernando wants to repeatedly stab himself because, what the fuck? What does it matter to him who Sergio is with anyway? Jesus Christ.
Fernando laughs. “Oh, cool. Say hello.”
Sergio delivers his message and Fernando listens to the back and forth between the two. Sergio repeats that he has to go, and Fernando scolds himself because the thought of Sergio hanging up makes him feel so damn nauseous. Sergio says goodbye though, eventually, and Fernando feels disoriented the rest of the night. He stares at the television but doesn’t hear a word the presenter says. All he can think about is the mixture of emotions he’s been feeling, and tries to come up with a way to block them. He tells himself that he’s lonely now because he’s so used to the bustle of football around, and he wishes the break would be over sooner rather than later (he’s not sure if he wishes for it just because he wants Sergio home, or if it’s really about missing football). After a few hours (and a few beers), he finally admits that what he really misses is the sound of Sergio’s breathing. That he doesn’t need anything else if he has Sergio’s breathing to listen to at night. He’s suddenly frustrated and takes it out on the pillows Sergio had left in his bed. He finally calls Olalla over and asks if she can stay the night. She can’t so he’s left with his thoughts.
It’s not like Fernando hasn’t thought of taking things further before; he’s imagined Sergio’s (beautiful) mouth on his lips, his caramel skin against the pale white of his own. He’s caught himself mid-sentence, staring at Sergio in a way that could give it away; like his eyes might betray him, blinking out the words, I love you, I love you so much. He thinks about it a lot, a montage of memories made up of touch and laughter and late night chats and simply always being together flooding his mind.
They’re best friends because they’re just the right amount of stupid and silly that it’s endearing, intelligence that it’s impressive. They’re Fernando and Sergio, trademark, because they come as a package and it’s hard for Fernando to imagine them being anything but. The thought of being anything other makes him feel physically ill and he knows Sergio feels it too, because Sergio is the one who goes on and on about Madrid in attempts to make sure Fernando will stay there forever. Fernando can see it on his face when they have to split up to go their separate ways, the hesitation and underlying dread. Especially when it comes to summer, because then there’s the ‘what if he’s never going to come back?’ written across his face. And Fernando sees it all. But he can’t do anything about it because Sergio’s his best friend, and he wouldn’t risk their friendship for the world.
Later, when he’s good and drunk, he calls Sergio and leaves him a voicemail. “I miss you,” he says. “Come home,” he says.
(December 2008.)
The third time, they're on an away trip. Stevie makes Carra switch rooms with him so he can room with Xabi. It’s a huge hassle, because for some odd reason, Carra just doesn’t want to room with Dirk.
“Stevie, you owe me big time for this.”
“Aw, Carra, sod off. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Carra looks at him sternly. “Steven Gerrard, you owe me.”
Stevie gives him a pat on the arm and makes his way up to his room. He puts his bags on the bed and the slow grin that spreads on Xabi’s face is a great pleasure. Xabi kisses him like it’s an emergency. He arches clumsily away from the bed as Stevie presses forward; gasping again and again like it’s all such a big surprise. Stevie pulls back, pulls off his t-shirt and Xabi tries to do the same. His head gets stuck in the collar. He wiggles about trying to get free, and finally admits defeat with a soft, “help?”
There’s an awkward moment, once they’re both halfway naked, in which neither of them has any idea where to put their hands. Stevie whacks his elbow on the headboard of the bed and grunts a “fuck” under his breath. His hushed laughter is ragged against Xabi’s ear. “I thought this would be easier.” Xabi wonders what part of trying to have sex on a bed that is sized for one person seemed easy.
Xabi can’t seem to think anything other than, finally, over and over again with his fingertips digging into Stevie’s spine and a cramp starting in his left leg. The bed wobbles slightly and he groans; visions of their tragic accident deaths (due to the crashing of a too small bed for two grown men) on front pages of newspapers everywhere. Stevie kisses along Xabi’s jaw, and thinks, you mean so much to me, as he places them. He’s too afraid to say it out loud though. They both go still and Stevie’s laughter is edged with nervousness (his hand across his mouth to try and minimize the sound). And really, they should have thought this through a little better, maybe they could have pushed their beds together or something. Stevie slides one hand down the back of Xabi’s jeans, uses the other to pull his head forward into another frantic kiss. The bed jiggles again and this time Xabi can’t even make himself care, he just figures at least he’ll die happy.
(December 2006.)
On the fourth day, Fernando goes to his parents' house for a party. He chats with his cousins until Olalla arrives. They talk and laugh and he is reminded as to how much he loves her. She leaves early to spend the rest of the night with her own family, and Fernando is lonely once again. He jokes with his family, but his thoughts go back to Sergio, and he gives himself a mental threat to fucking stop it already, to at least think about Olalla. He feels guilty and grabs a beer. Hours later, he receives a drunk phone call from Sergio. “I wish you were here,” Sergio repeats, his words slurring so Fernando doesn't figure out what he’s saying until the third time he says it.
Fernando says, “Go to bed, Sergio.” He realizes painfully that he really does wish he was with Sergio. That he really does love him, that it’s not something his brain has conjured up just because Sergio’s not here. He realizes it’s the only thing he’s clinging to.
(December 2008.)
The fourth time, Xabi is pulling on his shirt when Stevie practically pounces on him. He falls back on the bed, and Stevie straddles him.
“What are you doing, Stevie?” He laughs.
Stevie grins slyly. “I missed me show because of you, mate.”
Xabi snorts. “What was it? A recording of a Phil Collins concert?”
Stevie laughs, trying to give him the stink eye. His hands on his shoulders tighten, Xabi groans. Stevie smirks. “I think you owe me.”
Xabi rolls his eyes, a smile on his face. “I have to go, Stevie. Get off me.”
“Say the magic words.”
“I hate you?”
Stevie chuckles and shakes his shoulders a bit. “No.”
Xabi laughs, stares him square in the eye. “Please?”
“Nope.”
Xabi smiles softly. He opens his mouth to say something, but then suddenly the tables are turned and he's on top of Stevie. He beams, swoops down and gives Stevie a hard kiss, before getting up and walking out. “I’ll call you later.”
Stevie sits (defeated) on the bed and laughs. One day, he thinks. One day I'll tell him, he thinks.
(December 2006.)
On the fifth day, Fernando is comforted by the fact that Sergio will be coming home tomorrow. That night, he lays in bed with nothing but his briefs and feels an emotion spread through him (love?) with just the thought of Sergio. He places a pillow over his head to try to smother the feelings. Somewhere along the way, he falls asleep. He’s awoken by the sound of his phone, receiving a text.From: Sergio
Hey, I’m home early. Come see me tomorrow!
Fernando picks up his jacket and makes his way over to Sergio’s. He knows the door will be unlocked so he doesn’t lock, instead making his way inside uninvited. Sergio laughs when he sees him. “You’re that desperate to see me, huh?”
Fernando snorts. “Fuck off.”
Sergio smirks and pets his head. They sit silently for a bit, and then Fernando opens his mouth. He tries to explain something he’s been thinking about a lot lately. He thinks, maybe there is a hole in my chest. Something that has always been there, just the right size for Sergio to fit inside. He tries to explain it to Sergio, but it doesn’t come out sounding as meaningful as it does in his head.
Sergio scrunches up his face, like he’s trying really hard to understand. “You complete me?” he says after a while, and Fernando rolls his eyes.
Fernando reddens. “That’s what I was trying to say, I guess.”
Sergio’s eyes are soft, not at all judging as he throws a pillow at Fernando’s head. “Then why didn’t you just say that, you rambling idiot.”
Fernando sounds defiant. “I didn’t want to sound like a girl!”
“Well, you did anyway.” Sergio has the decency to sound apologetic.
Fernando throws the pillow back and Sergio catches it, stares down at it in his lap for a bit like he’s contemplating something quite significant. Fernando laughs. “Don’t hurt yourself, Sergio.”
Sergio sounds a bit sad when he finally speaks up. “You’re the best friend I ever had.”
(December 2008.)
The fifth time, they’re back in Liverpool again. The chilly hand of winter has taken a definite hold of Xabi’s flat. Xabi says, “Let’s go to the movies,” through the thick woolen barrier of his scarf.
Stevie shrugs his shoulders beneath a multitude of blankets, not looking entirely convinced. After a while, he switches off the television. “Sure, okay.”
Stevie picks the movie because Xabi doesn’t really care what they see, and if Stevie isn’t amused, then he’ll turn into an irritated monster. They buy the largest popcorn and the biggest drink they can share. It’s almost like a date, only Stevie has to remind himself that it really isn’t. The lights go down and the light from the screen illuminates Xabi’s features.
Xabi looks at Stevie out of the corner of his eye, and can see him shoveling the popcorn into his mouth. Stevie’s hand creeps over the armrest partway throught he movie. Slowly. Inch by inch. In the dark, where no one can see them, they hold hands with fingers laced together on Stevie’s thigh. Stevie squeezes, digs his fingertips into Xabi’s knuckles. Xabi’s heart palpitates, his palm gets all sticky and he wonders if Stevie notices. They don’t look at each other the entire time. When the movie finishes they release their grip and talk about the characters and that one stupid scene that didn’t make any sense. There’s popcorn salt stuck on Stevie’s cheek, and Xabi brushes it off without thinking.
Stevie says, “Thanks, mate,” like everything’s okay. Like it doesn’t mean a thing to him. He wants to tell him how he never wants them to get old; how he’s scared Xabi will leave one day and Stevie will be left in Liverpool with only memories to pain him. He wants to say that he hopes they stay like this-inseparable-forever. He wants to, but he doesn’t.
(December 2009; present.)
For some reason, the holiday season always makes Fernando feel lonely. His family, in Madrid. Olalla and Nora, in Madrid. (Sergio, in Madrid.)
He gives Sergio a call. “Hey.”
“Hey, Loser.” A grin spreads on both their faces. “What gives me the honour of your call?”
Fernando snorts. And then: “I miss you, kind of. I guess.”
Sergio sighs softly. He admits, “Me too.”
They sit quietly for hours, listening to the other’s breathing. They remember a night, a long time ago, when they could have conjured up the sound of the other’s breathing on demand. They fall asleep like that, with their phones pressed up against their ears, the other’s slow breaths playing as their lullaby.
The next morning, Fernando wakes up to a dial-tone. He pulls the comforter over his head, tries to smother his recurring thoughts of Sergio. He grumbles at himself to get a fucking grip of himself. He goes downstairs and eats some of the baked cookies that Olalla left him. He goes back upstairs and flops onto his bed with a giant, satisfied burp.
He stays in bed the rest of the day. At one point, he falls asleep. Somewhere around 3 pm, his bedroom door opens and someone gets into bed with him. He awakes with a jolt when he feels a hand on his hip, and his mouth is wide open when he sees who it is. It’s Sergio. And for someone who’s just had most of the week off, he looks remarkably shattered. Fernando suddenly realizes that Sergio is way into his personal space, much more into it than a friend should be.
“You’ve still got your shoes on,” Fernando manages to force out. Not you’re in my bed or I'm part naked and your hand is on my hip.
Sergio says, “Oh,” and swallows audibly, stretches the hand on Fernando’s hip awkwardly. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, and he looks genuinely terrified.
Fernando says, “Okay,” and mirrors Sergio’s actions. Hand on his hip. Fingers flexing involuntarily against his saturated shirt. Fernando thinks, I need you to love me. Their breath falls into a stutteringly identical rhythm with absolutely no rhythm at all.
Sergio leans in and kisses him. He whispers, “I’m sort of in love with you.”
(December 2009; present.)
Xabi comes to visit Stevie in Liverpool, for his holiday break. He knocks on Stevie’s door, knows that Alex and the girls are visiting her parents for the night. Stevie lets him in and hugs the life out of him. “I’ve missed you,” he repeats softly into Xabi’s hair.
They make their way upstairs, head for the guest bedroom. They groan when they see the room contains only the girls’ old bunk bed. They give each other a look that says “fuck it” and fall into the bed. Xabi’s hand slides into Stevie’s so snugly, he’s almost certain he can hear them click into place. Xabi turns his head to the side, stares at him until he follows suit. He says, “Hello.”
“Hi,” Stevie replies. He can feel their heartbeats thudding in time where their fingers connect.
Xabi narrows his eyes. “You’ve got cookie crumbs all over your face.” Xabi begins to wipe them off, saying things like “you’re such a slob” to him, over and over.
Stevie closes his eyes and watches the pinkish-red behind his lids for a while. Xabi’s foot falls sideways to taptaptap against his own. He wants desperately to say, I love you.
Instead, he opens his eyes to a world that is tinged slightly with blue and Xabi leaning over him, toothy grin inches away from his face. He says, “I think I can see your brain from here,” and Stevie laughs. Xabi collapses onto Stevie’s chest and shields his nose with his hand. Stevie decides Xabi probably knows how he feels anyway, and Xabi-with his cheek resting over Stevie’s heart-lets out a deep, shuddering sigh that sounds a lot like, I love you too.
pairings: sergio ramos/fernando torres, xabi alonso/steven gerrard.
rating: r.
disclaimer: i'm lying.
word count: 4,117.
notes: as usual this is entirely for slobbering boo, because she's completely desperate for fic!!!!!!! i was trying to make this one light, and the whole timeline thing might be a little confusing. i tried fixing it, i hope i did! hahaha. i like completely forgot why i started it out like that anyway. hahahahahaha. OH WELL.
(December 2006.)
Fernando doesn’t understand how deep in he is until Sergio goes to visit Seville for holiday break. Suddenly Fernando is absolutely (painfully) alone. It is the longest they’ve been separated in a long time, and lost doesn’t even begin to cover how Fernando feels. The first night, he calls Olalla and talks to her until she falls asleep. He ends up falling asleep on the couch with the phone pressed up against his ear. He wakes up sometime around 3 in the morning and stumbles to his room. He’s surprised to see the outline of a body in his bed. For a moment, he thinks it’s Sergio. It doesn’t take long for him to shake off the drowsy confusion and remember that Sergio had stuffed it with pillows so Fernando would "have someone to talk to". Fernando pulls back the covers anyway (just to make sure), hates that he feels so fucking disappointed when all he sees are a couple of pillows. “This sucks,” he says aloud.
(December 2008.)
Stevie doesn’t understand how deep in he is until he starts sleeping in the same bed as Xabi. Xabi has stayed over a lot, when Nagore is off in Spain and Alex is at her parents'. It's always been nothing more than friendly. This time isn't the same because Stevie pretends to hear something in his room as an excuse to stay with Xabi in the guestroom.
Everything is different at night. Distorted. It’s like another reality, with Xabi pressed against him-asleep. It’s like another reality, with Xabi’s soft sighs next to his ear. It’s as if everything is slightly blurred around the edges, and it makes Stevie think that what they do isn’t wrong, that what they do at night doesn’t truly exist as soon as the sun comes up. It’s another level of their friendship, one they don’t really talk about during the day, but it’s soft and it’s theirs, buried under blankets that never smell specifically of either one of them, but both of them combined-together.
The first time, Xabi mutters something under his breath, so gentle that Stevie wonders if he has imagined it. It sounds a lot like: I love you. He wants to ask if that means they can kiss for real now, not just stolen presses of lips against shirts or hair, lost because they’re not really acknowledged as meaning anything more than maybe, someday, perhaps.
He says nothing though, just shifts closer, and breaths in Xabi’s smell. He runs his hand lightly over the slight curve of Xabi’s hipbone, and wishes for more. Xabi exhales and snuggles back into Stevie’s embrace.
Stevie never wants the sun to come up again.
(December 2006.)
On the second night Sergio’s away, Fernando regrets not taking Sergio’s offer to go to Seville with him. His family would love Fernando, Sergio had said, and Fernando had laughed. He tidies his flat instead, cleans every single surface and it’s odd because Fernando never cleans. Olalla comes over and stands aghast when she sees that everything polishable in sight is glaring violently at them under the lights. He laughs at her and tells her she’s being overdramatic when she asks, “Who are you and what have you done with my Fernando?” She leaves at one point, and Fernando is left alone with nothing but himself and his mind.
His place is excruciatingly boring without Sergio popping in at random times. Fernando sits around half expecting Sergio to walk in through the door and raid his refrigerator at any given moment. He sits around hoping for it. Although he’d never tell Sergio that.
Fernando sits on his couch and wonders when he became so dependent on Sergio Ramos. He knows for a fact that if Sergio was here, he’d be sitting on Fernando’s chest by now, trying to stick his finger or some kind of vegetable or even a stick up Fernando’s nostril (and Fernando would be trying to punch him or kick him or something to get him out of his face), or at the very least, he’d be tickling him mercilessly until tears of laughter streamed down his face. Fernando smiles and tries to pretend that his mind hasn’t rewound and paused on the part where Sergio’s straddling him, looking at him, hands touching him. Fernando shakes his head, trying to clear it. He sits up and looks around the room for something else to clean. Something. Anything. Anything to get Sergio fucking Ramos out of his head. When Olalla calls him to go out for dinner, he almost cries with relief.
(December 2008.)
The second time, they don’t talk for the whole next day. Xabi stays away from Stevie for the majority of it. Stevie looks and looks and looks for him all over Melwood, but he can’t seem to find him anywhere. Xabi hides in the weight room for most of the day, and hopes that Stevie doesn’t come looking for him. Stevie ends up sitting on a Carra's couch at the get-together that night, hopes to see Xabi when (if) he walks in. He sits there wondering what the fuck he did wrong, and why Xabi is avoiding him. He wanted this too, goddamn it.
In the end, Xabi goes to the party and looks around for Stevie. He walks around for 30 minutes, mingling with everyone, asking if they’ve seen Captain Fantastic. Xabi finally finds him in the bathroom of one of Carra's bedrooms, because there aren’t very many places for Stevie to hide (he’s sick of sitting on the couch, waiting to see if Xabi will show up when he realizes he probably won't, so he ends up going upstairs to take a nap). Xabi strides up to him and pushes him against the sink, fists hands into his hair and Stevie can’t think of a single damn word to say.
Xabi whispers, “I want,” against Stevie’s chin.
Stevie doesn’t even bother letting him finish. Just says, “Thank god,” as well as he can against Xabi’s mouth, leaning forward to press their lips together.
(December 2006.)
On the third day, Fernando’s phone rings around 6 pm. Fernando knows because he’s watching the news (look at what my life has become, he thinks), and the newscaster says repeatedly, “You are now watching the 6 o’clock news.”
It bothers him how his heart begins to thud (how he seems to smile a real smile for the first time since Sergio’s left) when he sees Sergio’s name on the caller id. He flips open his phone. “Hey, Loser.”
Sergio laughs. “Is that how you greet me, after days of not seeing my beautiful face, or hearing my musical voice?”
Fernando’s smile only widens. “It’s only been three, I think I can survive.”
Sergio snorts. “Wow, three. You’ve kept count.”
Fernando blushes slightly and thanks god that Sergio isn’t there to see him. “Aren’t you supposed to be spending time with your family or something?”
“Family? What’s that?”
Fernando can hear Sergio’s smile when he says it. He smiles quietly. “So, why’d you call?”
“I miss you, kind of. I guess.” Sergio replies, mock-casual, voice wavering like he regrets even thinking it.
Fernando wiggles his toes against his silk comforter spread out over his legs. “I don’t miss you at all, you dirty slob.” He grins at the laughter that explodes at the other end. “If you were an animal, you’d be a filthy, useless rat.”
“You fucking asshole.” It’s the most adoringly spoken insult Fernando’s ever heard. They sigh simultaneously, easing back into silence.
Fernando listens to the sound of Sergio’s breathing. Inhale. Exhale. In and out, until the pattern is etched into Fernando’s brain. They stay quiet for a few more moments, and then Fernando hears a girl talking to Sergio. He groans and says into the phone, “I got to go.”
“Who is that?” Fernando asks, a slight (unnecessary) edge in his voice.
“It’s just Miriam, Niño.” Sergio laughs softly, in a reassuring manner. And Fernando wants to repeatedly stab himself because, what the fuck? What does it matter to him who Sergio is with anyway? Jesus Christ.
Fernando laughs. “Oh, cool. Say hello.”
Sergio delivers his message and Fernando listens to the back and forth between the two. Sergio repeats that he has to go, and Fernando scolds himself because the thought of Sergio hanging up makes him feel so damn nauseous. Sergio says goodbye though, eventually, and Fernando feels disoriented the rest of the night. He stares at the television but doesn’t hear a word the presenter says. All he can think about is the mixture of emotions he’s been feeling, and tries to come up with a way to block them. He tells himself that he’s lonely now because he’s so used to the bustle of football around, and he wishes the break would be over sooner rather than later (he’s not sure if he wishes for it just because he wants Sergio home, or if it’s really about missing football). After a few hours (and a few beers), he finally admits that what he really misses is the sound of Sergio’s breathing. That he doesn’t need anything else if he has Sergio’s breathing to listen to at night. He’s suddenly frustrated and takes it out on the pillows Sergio had left in his bed. He finally calls Olalla over and asks if she can stay the night. She can’t so he’s left with his thoughts.
It’s not like Fernando hasn’t thought of taking things further before; he’s imagined Sergio’s (beautiful) mouth on his lips, his caramel skin against the pale white of his own. He’s caught himself mid-sentence, staring at Sergio in a way that could give it away; like his eyes might betray him, blinking out the words, I love you, I love you so much. He thinks about it a lot, a montage of memories made up of touch and laughter and late night chats and simply always being together flooding his mind.
They’re best friends because they’re just the right amount of stupid and silly that it’s endearing, intelligence that it’s impressive. They’re Fernando and Sergio, trademark, because they come as a package and it’s hard for Fernando to imagine them being anything but. The thought of being anything other makes him feel physically ill and he knows Sergio feels it too, because Sergio is the one who goes on and on about Madrid in attempts to make sure Fernando will stay there forever. Fernando can see it on his face when they have to split up to go their separate ways, the hesitation and underlying dread. Especially when it comes to summer, because then there’s the ‘what if he’s never going to come back?’ written across his face. And Fernando sees it all. But he can’t do anything about it because Sergio’s his best friend, and he wouldn’t risk their friendship for the world.
Later, when he’s good and drunk, he calls Sergio and leaves him a voicemail. “I miss you,” he says. “Come home,” he says.
(December 2008.)
The third time, they're on an away trip. Stevie makes Carra switch rooms with him so he can room with Xabi. It’s a huge hassle, because for some odd reason, Carra just doesn’t want to room with Dirk.
“Stevie, you owe me big time for this.”
“Aw, Carra, sod off. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Carra looks at him sternly. “Steven Gerrard, you owe me.”
Stevie gives him a pat on the arm and makes his way up to his room. He puts his bags on the bed and the slow grin that spreads on Xabi’s face is a great pleasure. Xabi kisses him like it’s an emergency. He arches clumsily away from the bed as Stevie presses forward; gasping again and again like it’s all such a big surprise. Stevie pulls back, pulls off his t-shirt and Xabi tries to do the same. His head gets stuck in the collar. He wiggles about trying to get free, and finally admits defeat with a soft, “help?”
There’s an awkward moment, once they’re both halfway naked, in which neither of them has any idea where to put their hands. Stevie whacks his elbow on the headboard of the bed and grunts a “fuck” under his breath. His hushed laughter is ragged against Xabi’s ear. “I thought this would be easier.” Xabi wonders what part of trying to have sex on a bed that is sized for one person seemed easy.
Xabi can’t seem to think anything other than, finally, over and over again with his fingertips digging into Stevie’s spine and a cramp starting in his left leg. The bed wobbles slightly and he groans; visions of their tragic accident deaths (due to the crashing of a too small bed for two grown men) on front pages of newspapers everywhere. Stevie kisses along Xabi’s jaw, and thinks, you mean so much to me, as he places them. He’s too afraid to say it out loud though. They both go still and Stevie’s laughter is edged with nervousness (his hand across his mouth to try and minimize the sound). And really, they should have thought this through a little better, maybe they could have pushed their beds together or something. Stevie slides one hand down the back of Xabi’s jeans, uses the other to pull his head forward into another frantic kiss. The bed jiggles again and this time Xabi can’t even make himself care, he just figures at least he’ll die happy.
(December 2006.)
On the fourth day, Fernando goes to his parents' house for a party. He chats with his cousins until Olalla arrives. They talk and laugh and he is reminded as to how much he loves her. She leaves early to spend the rest of the night with her own family, and Fernando is lonely once again. He jokes with his family, but his thoughts go back to Sergio, and he gives himself a mental threat to fucking stop it already, to at least think about Olalla. He feels guilty and grabs a beer. Hours later, he receives a drunk phone call from Sergio. “I wish you were here,” Sergio repeats, his words slurring so Fernando doesn't figure out what he’s saying until the third time he says it.
Fernando says, “Go to bed, Sergio.” He realizes painfully that he really does wish he was with Sergio. That he really does love him, that it’s not something his brain has conjured up just because Sergio’s not here. He realizes it’s the only thing he’s clinging to.
(December 2008.)
The fourth time, Xabi is pulling on his shirt when Stevie practically pounces on him. He falls back on the bed, and Stevie straddles him.
“What are you doing, Stevie?” He laughs.
Stevie grins slyly. “I missed me show because of you, mate.”
Xabi snorts. “What was it? A recording of a Phil Collins concert?”
Stevie laughs, trying to give him the stink eye. His hands on his shoulders tighten, Xabi groans. Stevie smirks. “I think you owe me.”
Xabi rolls his eyes, a smile on his face. “I have to go, Stevie. Get off me.”
“Say the magic words.”
“I hate you?”
Stevie chuckles and shakes his shoulders a bit. “No.”
Xabi laughs, stares him square in the eye. “Please?”
“Nope.”
Xabi smiles softly. He opens his mouth to say something, but then suddenly the tables are turned and he's on top of Stevie. He beams, swoops down and gives Stevie a hard kiss, before getting up and walking out. “I’ll call you later.”
Stevie sits (defeated) on the bed and laughs. One day, he thinks. One day I'll tell him, he thinks.
(December 2006.)
On the fifth day, Fernando is comforted by the fact that Sergio will be coming home tomorrow. That night, he lays in bed with nothing but his briefs and feels an emotion spread through him (love?) with just the thought of Sergio. He places a pillow over his head to try to smother the feelings. Somewhere along the way, he falls asleep. He’s awoken by the sound of his phone, receiving a text.From: Sergio
Hey, I’m home early. Come see me tomorrow!
Fernando picks up his jacket and makes his way over to Sergio’s. He knows the door will be unlocked so he doesn’t lock, instead making his way inside uninvited. Sergio laughs when he sees him. “You’re that desperate to see me, huh?”
Fernando snorts. “Fuck off.”
Sergio smirks and pets his head. They sit silently for a bit, and then Fernando opens his mouth. He tries to explain something he’s been thinking about a lot lately. He thinks, maybe there is a hole in my chest. Something that has always been there, just the right size for Sergio to fit inside. He tries to explain it to Sergio, but it doesn’t come out sounding as meaningful as it does in his head.
Sergio scrunches up his face, like he’s trying really hard to understand. “You complete me?” he says after a while, and Fernando rolls his eyes.
Fernando reddens. “That’s what I was trying to say, I guess.”
Sergio’s eyes are soft, not at all judging as he throws a pillow at Fernando’s head. “Then why didn’t you just say that, you rambling idiot.”
Fernando sounds defiant. “I didn’t want to sound like a girl!”
“Well, you did anyway.” Sergio has the decency to sound apologetic.
Fernando throws the pillow back and Sergio catches it, stares down at it in his lap for a bit like he’s contemplating something quite significant. Fernando laughs. “Don’t hurt yourself, Sergio.”
Sergio sounds a bit sad when he finally speaks up. “You’re the best friend I ever had.”
(December 2008.)
The fifth time, they’re back in Liverpool again. The chilly hand of winter has taken a definite hold of Xabi’s flat. Xabi says, “Let’s go to the movies,” through the thick woolen barrier of his scarf.
Stevie shrugs his shoulders beneath a multitude of blankets, not looking entirely convinced. After a while, he switches off the television. “Sure, okay.”
Stevie picks the movie because Xabi doesn’t really care what they see, and if Stevie isn’t amused, then he’ll turn into an irritated monster. They buy the largest popcorn and the biggest drink they can share. It’s almost like a date, only Stevie has to remind himself that it really isn’t. The lights go down and the light from the screen illuminates Xabi’s features.
Xabi looks at Stevie out of the corner of his eye, and can see him shoveling the popcorn into his mouth. Stevie’s hand creeps over the armrest partway throught he movie. Slowly. Inch by inch. In the dark, where no one can see them, they hold hands with fingers laced together on Stevie’s thigh. Stevie squeezes, digs his fingertips into Xabi’s knuckles. Xabi’s heart palpitates, his palm gets all sticky and he wonders if Stevie notices. They don’t look at each other the entire time. When the movie finishes they release their grip and talk about the characters and that one stupid scene that didn’t make any sense. There’s popcorn salt stuck on Stevie’s cheek, and Xabi brushes it off without thinking.
Stevie says, “Thanks, mate,” like everything’s okay. Like it doesn’t mean a thing to him. He wants to tell him how he never wants them to get old; how he’s scared Xabi will leave one day and Stevie will be left in Liverpool with only memories to pain him. He wants to say that he hopes they stay like this-inseparable-forever. He wants to, but he doesn’t.
(December 2009; present.)
For some reason, the holiday season always makes Fernando feel lonely. His family, in Madrid. Olalla and Nora, in Madrid. (Sergio, in Madrid.)
He gives Sergio a call. “Hey.”
“Hey, Loser.” A grin spreads on both their faces. “What gives me the honour of your call?”
Fernando snorts. And then: “I miss you, kind of. I guess.”
Sergio sighs softly. He admits, “Me too.”
They sit quietly for hours, listening to the other’s breathing. They remember a night, a long time ago, when they could have conjured up the sound of the other’s breathing on demand. They fall asleep like that, with their phones pressed up against their ears, the other’s slow breaths playing as their lullaby.
The next morning, Fernando wakes up to a dial-tone. He pulls the comforter over his head, tries to smother his recurring thoughts of Sergio. He grumbles at himself to get a fucking grip of himself. He goes downstairs and eats some of the baked cookies that Olalla left him. He goes back upstairs and flops onto his bed with a giant, satisfied burp.
He stays in bed the rest of the day. At one point, he falls asleep. Somewhere around 3 pm, his bedroom door opens and someone gets into bed with him. He awakes with a jolt when he feels a hand on his hip, and his mouth is wide open when he sees who it is. It’s Sergio. And for someone who’s just had most of the week off, he looks remarkably shattered. Fernando suddenly realizes that Sergio is way into his personal space, much more into it than a friend should be.
“You’ve still got your shoes on,” Fernando manages to force out. Not you’re in my bed or I'm part naked and your hand is on my hip.
Sergio says, “Oh,” and swallows audibly, stretches the hand on Fernando’s hip awkwardly. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, and he looks genuinely terrified.
Fernando says, “Okay,” and mirrors Sergio’s actions. Hand on his hip. Fingers flexing involuntarily against his saturated shirt. Fernando thinks, I need you to love me. Their breath falls into a stutteringly identical rhythm with absolutely no rhythm at all.
Sergio leans in and kisses him. He whispers, “I’m sort of in love with you.”
(December 2009; present.)
Xabi comes to visit Stevie in Liverpool, for his holiday break. He knocks on Stevie’s door, knows that Alex and the girls are visiting her parents for the night. Stevie lets him in and hugs the life out of him. “I’ve missed you,” he repeats softly into Xabi’s hair.
They make their way upstairs, head for the guest bedroom. They groan when they see the room contains only the girls’ old bunk bed. They give each other a look that says “fuck it” and fall into the bed. Xabi’s hand slides into Stevie’s so snugly, he’s almost certain he can hear them click into place. Xabi turns his head to the side, stares at him until he follows suit. He says, “Hello.”
“Hi,” Stevie replies. He can feel their heartbeats thudding in time where their fingers connect.
Xabi narrows his eyes. “You’ve got cookie crumbs all over your face.” Xabi begins to wipe them off, saying things like “you’re such a slob” to him, over and over.
Stevie closes his eyes and watches the pinkish-red behind his lids for a while. Xabi’s foot falls sideways to taptaptap against his own. He wants desperately to say, I love you.
Instead, he opens his eyes to a world that is tinged slightly with blue and Xabi leaning over him, toothy grin inches away from his face. He says, “I think I can see your brain from here,” and Stevie laughs. Xabi collapses onto Stevie’s chest and shields his nose with his hand. Stevie decides Xabi probably knows how he feels anyway, and Xabi-with his cheek resting over Stevie’s heart-lets out a deep, shuddering sigh that sounds a lot like, I love you too.