myspoonis2big4u: Three times David Villa cheated on David Silva and one time he didn’t
Author: slashisfashun
Recipient: myspoonis2big4u
Title:Three times David Villa cheated on David Silva and one time he didn’t
Pairing: David Villa/David Silva (David Villa/Cesc Fabregas, David Villa/Leo Messi, David Villa/Patricia Gonzalez, David Silva/Sergio Agüero)
Characters: David Villa, David Silva, Leo Messi, Pepe Reina, Cesc Fabregas
Rating: R
Word count: 6,700 words.
Warnings: Angst, cheating and some light swearing.
Summary: Long distance takes its toll on the Davids' relationship and while David Silva is a perfect angel, David Villa has trouble keeping his hands to himself.
Takes place in a perfect world were Barcelona won the 2012 Champions League and David Villa's leg was miraculously cured at the time.
Disclaimer: I don’t know them nor own them. This is just for fun.
I.
Villa
They stumble through the door to David’s hotel room - his brain had only vaguely registered Cesc’s hand slipping into his tracksuit pocket to fish for the key card seconds earlier - a mess of part open mouthed kisses, part drunken euphoria. Putting his hands on Cesc’s hips, he backs them toward the centre of the room. He bumps his hip on a table, and Cesc manages to knock over a lamp, but he can’t bring himself to care about any of it, can’t care about anything but wet lips on his and the complete, ecstatic joy that’s been pumping through his veins the past few hours.
They fall in a heap on the bed and the golden medal that’s draped around his neck in a silk ribbon lands heavily on his heart.
Champions of Europe. He needs to pinch himself to make sure it’s real, that all this is really, actually happening and to make sure that when he wakes up tomorrow, that it wasn’t all a dream. ”Champions of Europe” He says it aloud this time and Cesc grins at him, absolutely beams, and he has to lean in and taste his lips, savour the taste of victory there, once more.
He lets Cesc peel his jacket off with nimble fingers, helps him shred the sky blue polo before Cesc stops his hands for a while, carefully removing the medal from around David’s neck.
”Be careful with that one,” Cesc grins and places it together with his own on the bedside table, before going back to straddling David’s thighs.
David’s quite sure he’s drunk enough not to function properly anymore, but in a burst of determination he flips them over and places himself in-between Cesc’s legs. His fingers trail the strip of exposed skin between Cesc’s shirt and tracksuit pants and he watches with alcohol-fuelled fascination as the muscles contract at his touch. When his hands loosen the knot on the dark blue sweatpants he lets his eyes flicker up to meet Cesc’s, and for a moment he’s not sure if he sees hesitation or anticipation there. But then he grins at him and mumbles we won it Cesc, we fucking won it, and then Cesc’s grin matches his own and he pulls him in for another bruising kiss.
When it comes down to things, Cesc is so predictably him it’s almost boring, the way he tugs a little bit too hard on David’s hair, the way he thrusts up uncontrollably so that David has to pull back choking and how he dazedly warns David that he’s about to come, two seconds too late. How he panics a bit when he sees come on his shirt (‘we’re supposed to meet up with the others later’ he hisses) and how he’s a bit too much saliva and teeth when he returns the favour. It’s nice though, not perfect, but at this moment David couldn’t care less.
”I’m gonna take a shower,” David informs Cesc when they’ve finished and are lying in a heap on the bed, breathing. Cesc nods and they stand up together, David heading towards the bathroom and Cesc going for his phone on the desk.
”I’ll wait for you, I’m just going to call-” he nods explanatory at the phone in his hand.
”Yeah, sure. Tell ’m hi from me,” David mumbles warily before closing the door behind him.
~*~*~
Silva
David almost curses himself as he taps in the all too familiar digits on the landline - it’s ridiculous how fast he’s learned the two weeks old number by heart. He’s been watching the final with a few of his City teammates - mostly the Spanish speaking, but a few Englishmen tagged along too - and his cell died half an hour ago, so he doesn’t really except Villa to pick up the call from an unknown number. That’s why he’s almost startled when he hears someone picking up on the other end. ”David’s phone, it’s Cesc” Ah, that’s why. ”Cesc,” he can’t keep the surprise from his voice.
”Where’s... David?” David says warily when Cesc is back and listening to him again, ”Villa” he adds after a beat.
”Where the fuck is my sock-” Cesc mutters under his breath and David hears him shuffle about a bit, hears the ruffle of fabric, before Cesc’s voice is back full and clear in the speakers.
”Sorry, er-, he’s in the shower right now - I could tell him to call you back?”
”No it’s- it’s ok, just tell him I called and that I’ll call him when I get back later, yes? My phone died earlier.” he says and tries to keep the strain from his voice. ”Congratulations, by the way, you were fantastic,” he adds quickly, because he remembers the real reason he called.
Cesc thanks him and just when he is about to hang up he hears a door opening, and a voice that unmistakably belongs to Villa hollers; ”you still talking to him? Come back to bed Cesc!” together with a mischievous laugh. Then the line goes dead. David sits back against the wall for a while and breathes. He doesn’t see Cesc’s scandalized look or hear him smiling go ”you idiot”, and he doesn’t see Villa return the smile and lead them out of the room. He doesn’t need to.
~*~*~
He’s driving home from an early morning work-out when his phone vibrates in his pocket and Silva is lucky he’s at a red light. He picks it up without checking the caller ID.
“Yeah,” He says in lieu of greeting as he squeezes his phone between his ear and shoulder when he changes gear.
“Hey, it’s me. David. You busy?” Comes the chirp reply and David’s been expecting this call, has gone through hundreds of possible scenarios in his head all week, so he doesn’t even flinch.
“No, just driving home.” He tries to concentrate on his driving, still not hundred per cent sure on driving on the left, but it’s hard when he finally has Villa closer than he’s had in days.
“You want me to call you later?”
Silva grabs his phone again and turns onto his street. “No, I’m home in a minute. What are you up to?” He switches back seconds later so that he can reverse the car onto his driveway and is momentarily distracted as Villa starts talking again.
“Oh, you know, just polishing my medal and whatnot. Which reminds me of; you never called and congratulated me?” David can practically hear the cocky grin Villa is sporting and he suddenly wants to punch something - like his phone, or the door, or Villa’s face.
“Um… actually I... did call you.” he settles with and listens contently to the abrupt stop to Villa’s snicker.
“You did?”
Even if he doesn’t mean to, though he has every right, his voice turns sour as he replies, “yeah, you seemed pretty busy though.”
“Don’t tell me I was drunk to the point where I don’t even remember your call because even if that night was a roller coaster ride times ten, I know for a fact that I wasn’t that drunk”
“Cesc didn’t tell you then?”
“Cesc didn’t tell me what?” and David thinks that Villa at least has the decency to sound wary now, and that’s good, he guesses.
“That I called and he answered because you were in the shower and he told me that he would tell you I called but apparently he… didn’t.” It does silent for a while and David absentmindedly thinks that both of them are holding their breath right now. Finally Villa lets out his breath.
“That was... you?”
“Who did you think it was?” David guesses Villa has given him severe mood swings because now he starts to feel mildly irritated at his friend and (as of late) lover.
“I- Never mind.” Villa seems to change his mind and David rolls his eyes so hard they are about to fall off. ”Are you home yet?”
“Yeah, I just stepped through the door; I need to hang up laundry now though.”
Villa snorts. “God, that’s so unsexy. Come on, can’t you do that later?”
“Shut up; or there will be no later for you.”
And somehow, in one way or another, David lets it pass, for now at least. They let things be unsaid and for now it is good, because David trusts and loves Villa, and he knows Villa’s feelings toward him too. For now, he lets it pass.
~*~*~
II.
Villa
It starts with a long overdue phone call. David hasn’t talked to Pepe since- since the last call up, he thinks, two months ago. He’s busy bathing Zaida when Patricia appears through the door with his ringing phone and offers to swap.
”Pepe,” he smiles into the receiver as he clamps the phone between shoulder and ear and dries his hands.
”Oh, you do remember me?” Pepe says in lieu of greeting and David rolls his eyes. He grabs the phone again and heads toward his study - half to reduce the level of sound around him, half because he knows Pepe might bring Silva up.
They talk about this and that for a while, David explains how busy he’s been and Pepe fills him in on his life in Liverpool and how his daughters are doing.
”We played Manchester City last week, by the way” Pepe says and David’s heart stings with the tiniest little strike of jealousy because he can’t be there, no more than a train ride away from Silva.
”Oh, right, how- how is he doing? Is he looking good?” David scratches his head and leans back in the chair.
”Superb, he assisted a beauty ofa goal, unfortunately” Pepe mock huffs and has David breathe out a half snort. ”they’re absolutely lethal though, him and that- Argentine, they’ve connected real quickly.”
”He and who?”
”Agüero. Messi probably mentioned him to you sometime, right? Talk of the year, was it, when he joined them.”
”Oh,” is all David says because to be frank he hasn’t been giving much attention to Silva’s team and their comings and goings lately, he has barely been able to catch the highlights of their games because of a tougher training schedule and growing kids.
”You be careful there before he steals your Silva away,” Pepe laughs and David does too, though it comes out hollow and empty-sounding.
Then Pepe’s daughter wakes up and he has to tend to her so they exchange a quick good luck and goodbye and hang up.
~*~*~
On Sunday, he’s home in time to catch the Premier League highlights, for once, so he grabs a
bottle of water from the kitchen and flops down in front of the TV. He texts a congrats on the clean sheet to Pepe when the result from the Liverpool game is shown and then sits back and watches Manchester City walk out on the pitch.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but when Silva crosses a beautiful ball to Agüero who curls it behind the keeper on a volley David can’t help but think that this happens on more than one occasion. He tries to deny the jealousy that wants to fill his veins, that tells him to go to Manchester and snatch Silva out of the Argentine’s arms though he knows it’s impossible with his current schedule. He contemplates on turning the TV off, to go for a run even if he’s supposed to rest after the early morning work-out but it’s as if he’s petrified and unable to move. On the screen Silva is running to Kun in no time, hugging him as if there’s no tomorrow and even if there are other teammates congratulating Kun on the goal Silva never lets go, holding on until it’s time for the kick-off.
Memories from Valencia floods David’s mind - how he was the one to pull Silva into a hug like that, how he was the one whom Silva clung to wholeheartedly, how they shared secret smiles and knew where each was without looking. His hands turn to fists as Kun’s face appears on the screen one more time and maybe it’s childish but David has never been one to keep his emotions in check when it’s about Silva. They can escalate from the top of Mount Everest to the London underground and he’s glad his children aren’t there to experience it.
He takes some refreshing breaths and downs the rest of the water in one go as he turns the TV off, tossing the bottle in the bin when he walks past the kitchen - wishing he could get rid of his feelings that easily.
~*~*~
At the training ground on Monday David has decided to put all his emotions behind and focus on football and that alone. It works out at first - he runs next to Alba during the warm up because Alba doesn’t talk if you don’t encourage him to and David is silent as a mouse. He stretches with Puyol who he may be a bit too harsh on but Puyol doesn’t say anything, only focusing on doing it the way David says and he’s thankful for that. It’s when Pep pairs him up with Messi to work on their dynamic David almost sees black.
It’s not Leo’s fault, of course it isn’t but Leo reminds David of Argentina and Argentina reminds David of Kun and Kun reminds him of Silva and Silva reminds him of feelings. Feelings he isn’t supposed to feel out in the open but only in the presence of himself. He doesn’t speak to Leo in words but with gestures and his feet to get the play going and they’re doing fine. Leo has always been an extraordinary player and David is stunned to get to play with him and surprised they’re able to communicate in their own way. Maybe this is how Silva feels about Kun, David thinks before he can stop himself and he misses the pass Leo lays up perfectly for him, only one touch and it would have been goal ten chances out of ten.
He tugs on his hair in frustration but points at Leo to do the same again and David is awed by Leo’s movement, as if he’s dancing - the ball his cavalier and when David gets the ball in front of him he doesn’t think before he shoots and it ends up in right top corner.
“Good one” Leo calls and if it would have been any other day David would have returned the smile and said you too but he only waves a hand and starts running with the ball again.
They keep going like that until Pep claps his hands, telling them to join the rest of the team. David’s legs are sore, a bit wobbly from all the dribbling and shooting.
“Hey, you alright?” Leo comes up to his side, a line on his forehead implicating that he’s worried.
“Yeah, ‘m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” David says, answering his own question with a frown - no, he’s quite not alright.
“You tell me” Leo replies, eyeing David with such tenderness David has only seen in another man’s eyes before.
David doesn’t have the time to answer before Pep takes the command, instructing their new exercise. It’s not until they’re finished for the day, David’s legs sore as ever and his body longing for his bed that he thinks back on the conversation with Leo. Leo - who seems quiet to the outside world but interacts with most players and trainers than any other, who everyone likes. Villa likes him too, but not so much that he could pour his heart out to the guy. No.
But-
“Hey, Leo, wait up”, David calls on him before he has even finished his thought, what is he going to say to him?
“Yeah?” Leo calls back, waiting in the entrance to the dressing room. David is there faster than he intended, probably looking quite dumbfounded as he hasn’t said anything yet.
“Um, you wanna… hang out after?”
It feels like hours before Leo shows any signs of interest or even any sign that he heard him. But when he does, it’s with a smile.
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“I just-. Do you have the new FIFA? My kids have broken mine.” David knows it’s a very bad excuse because his FIFA is definitely not broken, he keeps it in a special case out of reach for his kids but Leo doesn’t need to know that. No one needs to know that.
“Yeah, of course I have. You want to invite some of the other guys?” Leo looks into the locker room which is almost empty by now, only Valdes and Pique left.
“Nah, don’t want you to lose that bad.” Leo lets out a laugh at that and nods, already tugging at his shirt to get ready.
“If there’s anyone who’d lose, it wouldn’t be me.” He turns before David can think out a comeback.
~*~*~
They play until their thumbs are numb; until David sees stars from staring at the screen for such a long time. It’s just them and the game, focusing as if it would be real. Leo is the quiet one for once, only lets out a chuckle if he finds David’s comments funny enough and can’t hold it back. David talks almost all the time - nothing else occupying his mind but the game.
“I need a break.” Leo says as they have just finished their third game, Leo in the lead with 2-1. David doesn’t count the last game though as Leo cheated - he doesn’t know how he did it but he surely did. David played brilliantly but couldn’t get passed the goalkeeper and it sure wasn’t Casillas there.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” David says, hoping that Leo doesn’t have any plans on doing so - it is his home at least and David really needs to go.
“Sure, I’m heading to the kitchen - you want anything?”
“Water please.”
~*~*~
Messi
Leo is very fond of David, surprisingly. When David had first arrived he had been quite arrogant, Leo recalls and Leo had wondered if he would ever fit into the team. But after just a few weeks David was one of them, mostly because he played with the Spaniards in La Roja, but he had also been bonding with the Argentines and Brazilians.
It doesn’t stop Leo from wondering what he is doing in his home now though. They have never been this close, sharing personal space and playing FIFA tournaments. Not without the other guys anyway and Leo would lie if he said he wasn’t suspicious. Maybe it’s just him overthinking things, but hadn’t David leaned a bit too close when he got excited and hadn’t he rested his leg a bit too long against Leo’s?
“Thinking about something special?” Leo jumps at the whisper in his ear and the arms sneaking around his body, almost dropping the glass he holds in his hand.
“Careful” David says and takes hold of the glass, putting it down.
“I was just…” what is he supposed to say? That he was thinking about David?
“Yes?” Isn’t it a bit too hot in the room or is it just Leo being heated up to hundred at this point - David’s lips brushing over his ear not doing it any easier to concentrate.
“Thinking about you” he croaks out, suddenly unable to breathe probably.
“Oh, is that so?” David is standing extremely close now, body heat radiating in uncontrollable waves. Leo should probably run when he still got the chance, but it’s his house and he can’t just leave David alone, can he?
“Yeah.”
“Do you wanna know what I have been thinking?” Leo lets out a puff of air at that, trying to laugh because David could have been thinking anything and he doesn’t know if he wants to know, but David will probably not let him out of it any way.
“Do I?” Leo asks, not being able to make out the answer on his own, too distracted with… everything really.
“This” David whispers and spins Leo around, keeping him upward with his arms around Leo’s waist. When Leo thinks he has braced himself, ready for anything, David tilts their heads and brushes his lips over Leo’s, waiting for a reaction. Leo can’t say he’s shocked, well; he is because he never thought David’s lips against his would feel this good and he’s in some sort of trance because David starts pulling back. Leo can’t have anything of that because he needs to feel that same tingling feeling again and places his hand on David’s neck, diving back in, feeling David’s smile against his lips.
~*~*~
Villa
There is a rustling sound next to David’s ear but he’s so worn out, too tired to care that he just shifts slightly and drifts off again. His first thought is that he’s with Silva because that’s when he is worn out, feeling like he’s swaying in a tightrope - watching the world go by in a haze, carefree.
But then he’s awoken by a low snore and Silva never snores, he despises it - almost kicks Villa out of bed if he makes any noises similar to snoring and that’s when it hits him.
He slept with someone else.
He slept with Leo.
And he doesn’t even feel all that guilty about it.
The snoring continues and it’s louder now and David is close to kick Leo lightly because he’s trying to sleep there but then it occurs to him that maybe Leo is expecting him to leave? Villa sits up, shudders a bit at his tense muscles and looks around the room. Their clothes are scattered around - on the chair, on the floor, on the windowsill.
When he has tracked down his clothing, his shirt left downstairs he supposes he takes a last look at Leo. He looks so young; snoring into the pillow, his mouth open in an o. Leo’s back is full of red scratches that stand out against the white skin - David doesn’t have any memories of leaving them there. Before Villa follows the temptation to kiss each one of the claws he flips his legs over the edge, letting out a loud gasp as the cold suddenly surrounds him, ready to make his escape but it’s then he feels a tug on his arm and hears a low,
“Stay.”
David knows he shouldn’t; knows he should run - run for his life and never look back because he doesn’t love Leo, not in the way he loves Silva and this was a stupid idea. It’s as if Leo is a mind-reader because the hold on David’s arm eases - giving David the privilege to leave, but he doesn’t want to make the aching in his heart even worse by leaving his friend without any sort of explanation.
He’s not prepared for the eyes that are wide in realization, as if Leo was never asleep in the first place, and maybe he wasn’t, David thinks.
“I’m sorry,” Leo says so silently that David has to pull close to hear it but it’s there and it’s so painful David almost wants to straddle Leo for putting it out there.
“No, Leo, no. This is not your fault”, David hopes it’s enough because he can’t do better than that right now - he has always been bad with expressing his feelings - but then he’s looking right into Leo’s eyes and understands that it’s not.
“Shit. I’m the one who should be sorry, Leo. I shouldn’t have come onto you like that, it’s just-“ David shuts up before he can utter something about feelings and heartbroken and Kun but then Leo says,
“Who?” and it would be so easy. The silence is almost palpable, it’s a cloud hanging over them ready to burst out in tears but it’s gone before it gets the chance.
“It’s Silva” David says, the name on his lips feeling foreign. Leo’s eyes are crinkled at the sides, holding tears back and David thinks that he isn’t worth any man’s tears.
“Please don’t” he brushes his thumb under Leo’s eye, “don’t cry.” Leo smiles at that, weakly, trying to ease the mood. ”It’s not your fault, you have to understand that?” David would like to make sure because he knows better than most people how Leo is hard on himself - he knows how he takes the blame even when it isn’t his to take. The years of pressure of being the best player in the world have made sure of that, and all David wants is to peel that layer of guilt away and have Leo smiling a real smile again. ”You have done nothing wrong, because you didn’t know, you hear that?” and it’s not completely satisfactory yet, but there is a tug at the corners of Leo’s mouth and - David doesn’t think it’s fabricated this time.
“I should probably…” David lets the end of the sentence hang mid-air with a questioning look and Leo’s smile is sad, but it is a smile nevertheless.
“Yeah” he nods and let’s go of David. He gets dressed in no time, finds his shirt beside the bed and gives Leo’s shoulder a squeeze before heading for the door.
He turns to look over his shoulder and says softly “Promise you won’t beat yourself up over this, Leo” and when he finally gets a confirming nod, he’s out the door.
~*~*~
There are distant noises coming from the highway, a dog barking just a block away, but nothing reaches David’s ears but the thudding of his heart as he makes his way to his car. Not even the flashes of a camera and the instant clicks can crowd its way to David’s mind, who stops for a second just to look back up at Leo’s bedroom window before opening the door to his car.
It will be a long ride home.
~*~*~
III.
Villa
The third time is inevitable. Kind of. There’s been this kind of unspoken promise to Silva, how when they became - whatever they are - that he wouldn’t - well, expand his family further, so to speak. It’s not something they’ve ever talked about, and David doesn’t expect Silva not to go on and build a family on his own. He could never ask something like that from him, but he thinks this the least he can do himself. In theory, it works perfectly fine. But then David comes home from a title deciding home win in which he scored the winning goal in the last minute, and Patricia is wearing a new dress and that flowery perfume he loves, and the children are staying at Patricia’s mum’s and - and David is only human, right. He doesn’t think about the consequences.
Patricia, of course, is delighted. David is too, he’s over the moon and could never not be because he loves his family more than anything. Still, there’s that small gnawing feeling of guilt buried deep inside of him. He quickly pushes the feeling away, and it’s easy because it’s a long time until the next call-up.
~*~*~
Silva
It’s just a coincidence that David sees it. He’s just driven home from a particularly rainy training session at Carrington and is towelling his hair while waiting for his computer to start. He checks his phone and there’s tree texts, from his mother and cousin congratulating him on yesterday’s goal and one from Pepe that reads call me if you need to talk and that makes Silva frown because even though they only drew they still sit perfectly on top of the table. He continues to check the scores from the Liga games and sees that Villa scored his first of the season, so he sends him a congratulations. He checks his emails, updates his twitter, replies to some messages. When he’s bored he goes on Marca, against better judgement, because there’re always new rumours and it’s amusing to read sometimes.
And there it is. It’s not a big front-page headline, because Messi’s broken another record and that takes up most part of the site, but David only has to scroll once to see the picture of him. And then, against his will, his stomach drops.
Third time’s a charm; David Villa expects son in February
And against better judgement, he clicks the link and reads the Read More. Watches the video of David dedicating his goal to his unborn son, watches him being all smiles in the post-match interview. Reads the article about how happy the couple are about having a son and if he will be a footballer and sometime around that moment David leans back and tips his face towards the ceiling because his head has started spinning suspiciously.
He knows he should be glad, should be happy for David and Patricia. David has always wanted a family; wanted kids. Silva wants them too, but it’s hard when the one you want them with is already occupied.
Maybe Silva is overreacting because he knows what the terms are. They have talked about this, about family, about them. But sometimes the sting in his heart is too much and he’s wondering if it’s worth it. Silva will always be number two even if David says otherwise. If they’re lying in bed after an extremely tough day and Patricia calls, one of the girls missing her dad or being ill - David always answers and always ends up on the other end of the bed, out of reach and comfort. It’s like a title race and Silva always stumbles - scraping his knees and hands but comes in second despite the effort.
He goes to bed early and starts flipping through his phone, runs through his alternatives in his head. Calling David is out of the question. He contemplates calling someone from their national team or even his cousin or some of his friends from home but no one knows about him and David and he can’t handle telling them the whole story over the phone, not right now. His City team mates don’t understand Spanish, mostly, and they don’t know either. Only Pepe left, who seems the most logical one, and he almost taps ‘call’ before changing his mind.
He’ll see him in two weeks during call ups. He throws his phone on the bedside table and goes to bed.
~*~*~
IIII.
Villa
David wraps his scarf tighter around his neck when he gets out of the car together with Xavi and Andres at Las Rozas. It’s chilly, so at least he has an excuse to be wearing the black knitted fabric around his neck. He passes the reporters and paparazzi who have gathered and heads for the lobby where some of the staff is waiting.
His room is between Pepe’s and what he assumes will be Silva’s and he quickly escapes to the former’s to get more time. He needs to think.
Pepe greets him with a hug and ruffles his hair and David steps back and gives him such an angry pout it makes Pepe laugh. He knows how much David hates it when people (who aren’t Silva) touch his hair.
”Father to be,” Pepe rumbles and David grins. ”Who’d have guessed. I didn’t think you’d, after-” he watches David’s expression turn solemn and tilts his head. ”You haven’t talked to him yet, have you?”
It’s like the wind is knocked out of David and he slumps down in the chair closest to him. He buries his face in his hands and mumbles, so Pepe has to lean down and kneel in front of him.
”I don’t know what to say to him- Pepe, I have no fucking clue what to say,” he sounds so desperate and so suddenly young, Pepe stays silent for a moment.
”Hey, you never promised him anything, eh?” he settles with and pats David’s shoulder lightly.
”That was the deal, remember? You told me - this wouldn’t stop your family lives from going on, David.”
David looks up at him, eyes red and tired. ”I know, but after all I’ve done- he doesn’t deserve this, you know?” Pepe just smiles lopsidedly at him.
~*~*~
Silva
The door flicks shut behind him as he sinks down on his bed. He feels drained, physically from their game yesterday and mentally from how his thoughts have run wild ever since he got on the plane that would take him here. Back to Spain, to Las Rozas, to him - to Villa. He absently wonders if the others have arrived from their different cities yet or if he’s early - if they will have food soon and if he should text his cousin about the tickets to their game- It keeps his mind occupied for a while but far too soon his thoughts drift back to the team and in the room next to his, Villa. It’s not like them at all, not meeting each other in the lobby, all smiles and hugs and ’I missed you’ - but then again, Silva thinks, keeping secrets and breaking promises aren’t like them either.
He leans against the bedpost; arms around his knees, looking out the window. It looks like it’s about to snow which is ridiculous because this is Spain David thinks when a knock on the door startles him.
At first he thinks it might be room service, but then again he never called them and then he goes through a mental list of people it could hopefully be - though he already knows who awaits him.
The walk to the door feels like a mile and he rests his forehead against the cold door before opening it.
It’s weird because Villa looks exactly the same. Aside from the dark rings under his eyes and the way his arms are fallen limb at his sides, he hasn’t changed in the slightest since the last time they saw each other. David doesn’t know what he had expected, if he’d assumed that Villa’s expressions, air or posture would have changed along with his character. If what he’d done would somehow be visible to the outside world. David watches, maybe too long, but Villa doesn’t shield himself or shoulders himself inside, just waits and lets David to do as he pleases.
It feels like an eternity before David steps aside - getting rid of the thoughts that tells him to slam the door in Villa’s face because that won’t do anything better. What he isn’t prepared for though is Villa’s lips on his, hands pressing him firmly against the wall. He doesn’t return the kiss, nor does he push Villa away. There is too much teeth and David’s lips are almost numb when he finally gets his senses back and pushes maybe a bit too hard at Villa’s shoulder.
“You have no right-“ David stops midsentence because he hadn’t noticed Villa being on the floor and doesn’t continue until he’s found his posture again, “you have no right to claim what you think is yours.” He tries to hold his voice down but suddenly it’s welling up inside of him.
“To claim what I think is mine?” Villa looks like he was just told he couldn’t play football anymore and David thinks that he is the one who should look like that for what is yet to come.
“Don’t you think I haven’t noticed? That I haven’t understood? We can put Patricia aside, but Cesc isn’t the only one is he?” David’s voice breaks in the end because for only half a second the answer is in Villa’s eyes and David knows that he’s right.
“Isn’t the only wha-“
“David Villa, don’t play the stupid card on me, please. Don’t you see anything odd in these pictures?” David holds up his phone, a picture of Leo and Villa entering Leo’s house in daily sunlight and then another of Villa leaving in moonlight. The evidences are clear.
~*~*~
Villa
He’s so utterly fucked, David thinks as soon as he sees the pictures Silva has put under his nose. The second thing that comes to mind is that Silva never uses his full name, only when he does something stupid as uttering something his brain filter doesn’t cross out and he has to apologize.
“Look, it’s not what i-“ David starts but Silva cuts him off furiously.
“It looks like? Even a blind man would see it, David. This picture is surely taken hours after you first arrived at Messi’s house and then your shirt was tucked in, but on this picture it’s wrinkled and the last two buttons open. Your face is flushed in the exact same wa-“
David thinks about a snide remark about how Silva maybe should’ve become a private detective or even a journalist the way he’s acting but he thinks better of it, because he himself is, in fact, not better. Instead he settles with; “I know what it looks like, alright? But it’s not what you think.”
“It’s not? Then you look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t sleep with him.” is Silva’s reply and David wants to protest, wants to tell him that nothing happened and that everything is fine. But he can’t. This is Silva, whom he loves, and he can’t lie. He can’t lie to Silva about this, because Silva has always been able to trust him before, and he has to continue doing so. David needs it, needs Silva to keep on going. So he stays silent.
“Do you want to know what the worst part is?” Silva’s breath hitches a bit before he continues. ”I don’t even… hate you for not loving me anymore; I just hate myself for still loving you.” Silva looks away from David, but not before David sees the tear that has found its way down Silva’s cheek and something in David breaks when he sees it - when he understands that it’s him who’s made Silva feel this way.
“Silva. David. I’ve been the biggest asshole you can imagine, okay?” He looks and Silva gives him a small nod and David thinks that well, serves him right. ”I know that. But Cesc just... was there. And then when I thought that you and Agüero-“
”Kun? What about him?” Silva looks momentarily surprised at David mentioning his teammate’s name and David feels ten times more stupid.
“Well, Pepe said-“ he starts and Silva’s surprised look turns into one of disbelief.
“You listen to him? He’s living in his own world, David, why the hell would you trust him more than me?”
David is grasping for words now, for a way to explain his otherwise unexplainable jealousy, that’s so strongly connected to Silva because he is his. “Because I watched your games too, and you two had this connection, like yin and yong and-“
“It’s yang.”
“Whatever.” David waves Silva’s input away with his hand as if it was a wasp irritating him
and continues his rant. ”Anyway, you play really well together and I couldn’t not see how happy you were and you seemed so close and it reminded me of us in Valencia and - can you blame me?” he says it all in one breath and feels dizzy when he’s done. He looks up at Silva who is watching him.
“No, I guess not. But it still doesn’t make what you did alright even if it was because you were jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
“Course you weren’t.” Silva rolls his eyes at David’s stubbornness and David wishes, hopes, for a second that somehow, this can end well.
“Are we good?”
Silva studies him for a long while, seems to be weighing his options inside his head. David gets the feeling of being in court when the jury is deciding his fate as he watches them with pleading eyes and waits for the verdict. Silva swallows once before opening his mouth.
“Not yet, but I think we will be.”
Recipient: myspoonis2big4u
Title:Three times David Villa cheated on David Silva and one time he didn’t
Pairing: David Villa/David Silva (David Villa/Cesc Fabregas, David Villa/Leo Messi, David Villa/Patricia Gonzalez, David Silva/Sergio Agüero)
Characters: David Villa, David Silva, Leo Messi, Pepe Reina, Cesc Fabregas
Rating: R
Word count: 6,700 words.
Warnings: Angst, cheating and some light swearing.
Summary: Long distance takes its toll on the Davids' relationship and while David Silva is a perfect angel, David Villa has trouble keeping his hands to himself.
Takes place in a perfect world were Barcelona won the 2012 Champions League and David Villa's leg was miraculously cured at the time.
Disclaimer: I don’t know them nor own them. This is just for fun.
I.
Villa
They stumble through the door to David’s hotel room - his brain had only vaguely registered Cesc’s hand slipping into his tracksuit pocket to fish for the key card seconds earlier - a mess of part open mouthed kisses, part drunken euphoria. Putting his hands on Cesc’s hips, he backs them toward the centre of the room. He bumps his hip on a table, and Cesc manages to knock over a lamp, but he can’t bring himself to care about any of it, can’t care about anything but wet lips on his and the complete, ecstatic joy that’s been pumping through his veins the past few hours.
They fall in a heap on the bed and the golden medal that’s draped around his neck in a silk ribbon lands heavily on his heart.
Champions of Europe. He needs to pinch himself to make sure it’s real, that all this is really, actually happening and to make sure that when he wakes up tomorrow, that it wasn’t all a dream. ”Champions of Europe” He says it aloud this time and Cesc grins at him, absolutely beams, and he has to lean in and taste his lips, savour the taste of victory there, once more.
He lets Cesc peel his jacket off with nimble fingers, helps him shred the sky blue polo before Cesc stops his hands for a while, carefully removing the medal from around David’s neck.
”Be careful with that one,” Cesc grins and places it together with his own on the bedside table, before going back to straddling David’s thighs.
David’s quite sure he’s drunk enough not to function properly anymore, but in a burst of determination he flips them over and places himself in-between Cesc’s legs. His fingers trail the strip of exposed skin between Cesc’s shirt and tracksuit pants and he watches with alcohol-fuelled fascination as the muscles contract at his touch. When his hands loosen the knot on the dark blue sweatpants he lets his eyes flicker up to meet Cesc’s, and for a moment he’s not sure if he sees hesitation or anticipation there. But then he grins at him and mumbles we won it Cesc, we fucking won it, and then Cesc’s grin matches his own and he pulls him in for another bruising kiss.
When it comes down to things, Cesc is so predictably him it’s almost boring, the way he tugs a little bit too hard on David’s hair, the way he thrusts up uncontrollably so that David has to pull back choking and how he dazedly warns David that he’s about to come, two seconds too late. How he panics a bit when he sees come on his shirt (‘we’re supposed to meet up with the others later’ he hisses) and how he’s a bit too much saliva and teeth when he returns the favour. It’s nice though, not perfect, but at this moment David couldn’t care less.
”I’m gonna take a shower,” David informs Cesc when they’ve finished and are lying in a heap on the bed, breathing. Cesc nods and they stand up together, David heading towards the bathroom and Cesc going for his phone on the desk.
”I’ll wait for you, I’m just going to call-” he nods explanatory at the phone in his hand.
”Yeah, sure. Tell ’m hi from me,” David mumbles warily before closing the door behind him.
~*~*~
Silva
David almost curses himself as he taps in the all too familiar digits on the landline - it’s ridiculous how fast he’s learned the two weeks old number by heart. He’s been watching the final with a few of his City teammates - mostly the Spanish speaking, but a few Englishmen tagged along too - and his cell died half an hour ago, so he doesn’t really except Villa to pick up the call from an unknown number. That’s why he’s almost startled when he hears someone picking up on the other end. ”David’s phone, it’s Cesc” Ah, that’s why. ”Cesc,” he can’t keep the surprise from his voice.
”Where’s... David?” David says warily when Cesc is back and listening to him again, ”Villa” he adds after a beat.
”Where the fuck is my sock-” Cesc mutters under his breath and David hears him shuffle about a bit, hears the ruffle of fabric, before Cesc’s voice is back full and clear in the speakers.
”Sorry, er-, he’s in the shower right now - I could tell him to call you back?”
”No it’s- it’s ok, just tell him I called and that I’ll call him when I get back later, yes? My phone died earlier.” he says and tries to keep the strain from his voice. ”Congratulations, by the way, you were fantastic,” he adds quickly, because he remembers the real reason he called.
Cesc thanks him and just when he is about to hang up he hears a door opening, and a voice that unmistakably belongs to Villa hollers; ”you still talking to him? Come back to bed Cesc!” together with a mischievous laugh. Then the line goes dead. David sits back against the wall for a while and breathes. He doesn’t see Cesc’s scandalized look or hear him smiling go ”you idiot”, and he doesn’t see Villa return the smile and lead them out of the room. He doesn’t need to.
~*~*~
He’s driving home from an early morning work-out when his phone vibrates in his pocket and Silva is lucky he’s at a red light. He picks it up without checking the caller ID.
“Yeah,” He says in lieu of greeting as he squeezes his phone between his ear and shoulder when he changes gear.
“Hey, it’s me. David. You busy?” Comes the chirp reply and David’s been expecting this call, has gone through hundreds of possible scenarios in his head all week, so he doesn’t even flinch.
“No, just driving home.” He tries to concentrate on his driving, still not hundred per cent sure on driving on the left, but it’s hard when he finally has Villa closer than he’s had in days.
“You want me to call you later?”
Silva grabs his phone again and turns onto his street. “No, I’m home in a minute. What are you up to?” He switches back seconds later so that he can reverse the car onto his driveway and is momentarily distracted as Villa starts talking again.
“Oh, you know, just polishing my medal and whatnot. Which reminds me of; you never called and congratulated me?” David can practically hear the cocky grin Villa is sporting and he suddenly wants to punch something - like his phone, or the door, or Villa’s face.
“Um… actually I... did call you.” he settles with and listens contently to the abrupt stop to Villa’s snicker.
“You did?”
Even if he doesn’t mean to, though he has every right, his voice turns sour as he replies, “yeah, you seemed pretty busy though.”
“Don’t tell me I was drunk to the point where I don’t even remember your call because even if that night was a roller coaster ride times ten, I know for a fact that I wasn’t that drunk”
“Cesc didn’t tell you then?”
“Cesc didn’t tell me what?” and David thinks that Villa at least has the decency to sound wary now, and that’s good, he guesses.
“That I called and he answered because you were in the shower and he told me that he would tell you I called but apparently he… didn’t.” It does silent for a while and David absentmindedly thinks that both of them are holding their breath right now. Finally Villa lets out his breath.
“That was... you?”
“Who did you think it was?” David guesses Villa has given him severe mood swings because now he starts to feel mildly irritated at his friend and (as of late) lover.
“I- Never mind.” Villa seems to change his mind and David rolls his eyes so hard they are about to fall off. ”Are you home yet?”
“Yeah, I just stepped through the door; I need to hang up laundry now though.”
Villa snorts. “God, that’s so unsexy. Come on, can’t you do that later?”
“Shut up; or there will be no later for you.”
And somehow, in one way or another, David lets it pass, for now at least. They let things be unsaid and for now it is good, because David trusts and loves Villa, and he knows Villa’s feelings toward him too. For now, he lets it pass.
~*~*~
II.
Villa
It starts with a long overdue phone call. David hasn’t talked to Pepe since- since the last call up, he thinks, two months ago. He’s busy bathing Zaida when Patricia appears through the door with his ringing phone and offers to swap.
”Pepe,” he smiles into the receiver as he clamps the phone between shoulder and ear and dries his hands.
”Oh, you do remember me?” Pepe says in lieu of greeting and David rolls his eyes. He grabs the phone again and heads toward his study - half to reduce the level of sound around him, half because he knows Pepe might bring Silva up.
They talk about this and that for a while, David explains how busy he’s been and Pepe fills him in on his life in Liverpool and how his daughters are doing.
”We played Manchester City last week, by the way” Pepe says and David’s heart stings with the tiniest little strike of jealousy because he can’t be there, no more than a train ride away from Silva.
”Oh, right, how- how is he doing? Is he looking good?” David scratches his head and leans back in the chair.
”Superb, he assisted a beauty ofa goal, unfortunately” Pepe mock huffs and has David breathe out a half snort. ”they’re absolutely lethal though, him and that- Argentine, they’ve connected real quickly.”
”He and who?”
”Agüero. Messi probably mentioned him to you sometime, right? Talk of the year, was it, when he joined them.”
”Oh,” is all David says because to be frank he hasn’t been giving much attention to Silva’s team and their comings and goings lately, he has barely been able to catch the highlights of their games because of a tougher training schedule and growing kids.
”You be careful there before he steals your Silva away,” Pepe laughs and David does too, though it comes out hollow and empty-sounding.
Then Pepe’s daughter wakes up and he has to tend to her so they exchange a quick good luck and goodbye and hang up.
~*~*~
On Sunday, he’s home in time to catch the Premier League highlights, for once, so he grabs a
bottle of water from the kitchen and flops down in front of the TV. He texts a congrats on the clean sheet to Pepe when the result from the Liverpool game is shown and then sits back and watches Manchester City walk out on the pitch.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but when Silva crosses a beautiful ball to Agüero who curls it behind the keeper on a volley David can’t help but think that this happens on more than one occasion. He tries to deny the jealousy that wants to fill his veins, that tells him to go to Manchester and snatch Silva out of the Argentine’s arms though he knows it’s impossible with his current schedule. He contemplates on turning the TV off, to go for a run even if he’s supposed to rest after the early morning work-out but it’s as if he’s petrified and unable to move. On the screen Silva is running to Kun in no time, hugging him as if there’s no tomorrow and even if there are other teammates congratulating Kun on the goal Silva never lets go, holding on until it’s time for the kick-off.
Memories from Valencia floods David’s mind - how he was the one to pull Silva into a hug like that, how he was the one whom Silva clung to wholeheartedly, how they shared secret smiles and knew where each was without looking. His hands turn to fists as Kun’s face appears on the screen one more time and maybe it’s childish but David has never been one to keep his emotions in check when it’s about Silva. They can escalate from the top of Mount Everest to the London underground and he’s glad his children aren’t there to experience it.
He takes some refreshing breaths and downs the rest of the water in one go as he turns the TV off, tossing the bottle in the bin when he walks past the kitchen - wishing he could get rid of his feelings that easily.
~*~*~
At the training ground on Monday David has decided to put all his emotions behind and focus on football and that alone. It works out at first - he runs next to Alba during the warm up because Alba doesn’t talk if you don’t encourage him to and David is silent as a mouse. He stretches with Puyol who he may be a bit too harsh on but Puyol doesn’t say anything, only focusing on doing it the way David says and he’s thankful for that. It’s when Pep pairs him up with Messi to work on their dynamic David almost sees black.
It’s not Leo’s fault, of course it isn’t but Leo reminds David of Argentina and Argentina reminds David of Kun and Kun reminds him of Silva and Silva reminds him of feelings. Feelings he isn’t supposed to feel out in the open but only in the presence of himself. He doesn’t speak to Leo in words but with gestures and his feet to get the play going and they’re doing fine. Leo has always been an extraordinary player and David is stunned to get to play with him and surprised they’re able to communicate in their own way. Maybe this is how Silva feels about Kun, David thinks before he can stop himself and he misses the pass Leo lays up perfectly for him, only one touch and it would have been goal ten chances out of ten.
He tugs on his hair in frustration but points at Leo to do the same again and David is awed by Leo’s movement, as if he’s dancing - the ball his cavalier and when David gets the ball in front of him he doesn’t think before he shoots and it ends up in right top corner.
“Good one” Leo calls and if it would have been any other day David would have returned the smile and said you too but he only waves a hand and starts running with the ball again.
They keep going like that until Pep claps his hands, telling them to join the rest of the team. David’s legs are sore, a bit wobbly from all the dribbling and shooting.
“Hey, you alright?” Leo comes up to his side, a line on his forehead implicating that he’s worried.
“Yeah, ‘m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” David says, answering his own question with a frown - no, he’s quite not alright.
“You tell me” Leo replies, eyeing David with such tenderness David has only seen in another man’s eyes before.
David doesn’t have the time to answer before Pep takes the command, instructing their new exercise. It’s not until they’re finished for the day, David’s legs sore as ever and his body longing for his bed that he thinks back on the conversation with Leo. Leo - who seems quiet to the outside world but interacts with most players and trainers than any other, who everyone likes. Villa likes him too, but not so much that he could pour his heart out to the guy. No.
But-
“Hey, Leo, wait up”, David calls on him before he has even finished his thought, what is he going to say to him?
“Yeah?” Leo calls back, waiting in the entrance to the dressing room. David is there faster than he intended, probably looking quite dumbfounded as he hasn’t said anything yet.
“Um, you wanna… hang out after?”
It feels like hours before Leo shows any signs of interest or even any sign that he heard him. But when he does, it’s with a smile.
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“I just-. Do you have the new FIFA? My kids have broken mine.” David knows it’s a very bad excuse because his FIFA is definitely not broken, he keeps it in a special case out of reach for his kids but Leo doesn’t need to know that. No one needs to know that.
“Yeah, of course I have. You want to invite some of the other guys?” Leo looks into the locker room which is almost empty by now, only Valdes and Pique left.
“Nah, don’t want you to lose that bad.” Leo lets out a laugh at that and nods, already tugging at his shirt to get ready.
“If there’s anyone who’d lose, it wouldn’t be me.” He turns before David can think out a comeback.
~*~*~
They play until their thumbs are numb; until David sees stars from staring at the screen for such a long time. It’s just them and the game, focusing as if it would be real. Leo is the quiet one for once, only lets out a chuckle if he finds David’s comments funny enough and can’t hold it back. David talks almost all the time - nothing else occupying his mind but the game.
“I need a break.” Leo says as they have just finished their third game, Leo in the lead with 2-1. David doesn’t count the last game though as Leo cheated - he doesn’t know how he did it but he surely did. David played brilliantly but couldn’t get passed the goalkeeper and it sure wasn’t Casillas there.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” David says, hoping that Leo doesn’t have any plans on doing so - it is his home at least and David really needs to go.
“Sure, I’m heading to the kitchen - you want anything?”
“Water please.”
~*~*~
Messi
Leo is very fond of David, surprisingly. When David had first arrived he had been quite arrogant, Leo recalls and Leo had wondered if he would ever fit into the team. But after just a few weeks David was one of them, mostly because he played with the Spaniards in La Roja, but he had also been bonding with the Argentines and Brazilians.
It doesn’t stop Leo from wondering what he is doing in his home now though. They have never been this close, sharing personal space and playing FIFA tournaments. Not without the other guys anyway and Leo would lie if he said he wasn’t suspicious. Maybe it’s just him overthinking things, but hadn’t David leaned a bit too close when he got excited and hadn’t he rested his leg a bit too long against Leo’s?
“Thinking about something special?” Leo jumps at the whisper in his ear and the arms sneaking around his body, almost dropping the glass he holds in his hand.
“Careful” David says and takes hold of the glass, putting it down.
“I was just…” what is he supposed to say? That he was thinking about David?
“Yes?” Isn’t it a bit too hot in the room or is it just Leo being heated up to hundred at this point - David’s lips brushing over his ear not doing it any easier to concentrate.
“Thinking about you” he croaks out, suddenly unable to breathe probably.
“Oh, is that so?” David is standing extremely close now, body heat radiating in uncontrollable waves. Leo should probably run when he still got the chance, but it’s his house and he can’t just leave David alone, can he?
“Yeah.”
“Do you wanna know what I have been thinking?” Leo lets out a puff of air at that, trying to laugh because David could have been thinking anything and he doesn’t know if he wants to know, but David will probably not let him out of it any way.
“Do I?” Leo asks, not being able to make out the answer on his own, too distracted with… everything really.
“This” David whispers and spins Leo around, keeping him upward with his arms around Leo’s waist. When Leo thinks he has braced himself, ready for anything, David tilts their heads and brushes his lips over Leo’s, waiting for a reaction. Leo can’t say he’s shocked, well; he is because he never thought David’s lips against his would feel this good and he’s in some sort of trance because David starts pulling back. Leo can’t have anything of that because he needs to feel that same tingling feeling again and places his hand on David’s neck, diving back in, feeling David’s smile against his lips.
~*~*~
Villa
There is a rustling sound next to David’s ear but he’s so worn out, too tired to care that he just shifts slightly and drifts off again. His first thought is that he’s with Silva because that’s when he is worn out, feeling like he’s swaying in a tightrope - watching the world go by in a haze, carefree.
But then he’s awoken by a low snore and Silva never snores, he despises it - almost kicks Villa out of bed if he makes any noises similar to snoring and that’s when it hits him.
He slept with someone else.
He slept with Leo.
And he doesn’t even feel all that guilty about it.
The snoring continues and it’s louder now and David is close to kick Leo lightly because he’s trying to sleep there but then it occurs to him that maybe Leo is expecting him to leave? Villa sits up, shudders a bit at his tense muscles and looks around the room. Their clothes are scattered around - on the chair, on the floor, on the windowsill.
When he has tracked down his clothing, his shirt left downstairs he supposes he takes a last look at Leo. He looks so young; snoring into the pillow, his mouth open in an o. Leo’s back is full of red scratches that stand out against the white skin - David doesn’t have any memories of leaving them there. Before Villa follows the temptation to kiss each one of the claws he flips his legs over the edge, letting out a loud gasp as the cold suddenly surrounds him, ready to make his escape but it’s then he feels a tug on his arm and hears a low,
“Stay.”
David knows he shouldn’t; knows he should run - run for his life and never look back because he doesn’t love Leo, not in the way he loves Silva and this was a stupid idea. It’s as if Leo is a mind-reader because the hold on David’s arm eases - giving David the privilege to leave, but he doesn’t want to make the aching in his heart even worse by leaving his friend without any sort of explanation.
He’s not prepared for the eyes that are wide in realization, as if Leo was never asleep in the first place, and maybe he wasn’t, David thinks.
“I’m sorry,” Leo says so silently that David has to pull close to hear it but it’s there and it’s so painful David almost wants to straddle Leo for putting it out there.
“No, Leo, no. This is not your fault”, David hopes it’s enough because he can’t do better than that right now - he has always been bad with expressing his feelings - but then he’s looking right into Leo’s eyes and understands that it’s not.
“Shit. I’m the one who should be sorry, Leo. I shouldn’t have come onto you like that, it’s just-“ David shuts up before he can utter something about feelings and heartbroken and Kun but then Leo says,
“Who?” and it would be so easy. The silence is almost palpable, it’s a cloud hanging over them ready to burst out in tears but it’s gone before it gets the chance.
“It’s Silva” David says, the name on his lips feeling foreign. Leo’s eyes are crinkled at the sides, holding tears back and David thinks that he isn’t worth any man’s tears.
“Please don’t” he brushes his thumb under Leo’s eye, “don’t cry.” Leo smiles at that, weakly, trying to ease the mood. ”It’s not your fault, you have to understand that?” David would like to make sure because he knows better than most people how Leo is hard on himself - he knows how he takes the blame even when it isn’t his to take. The years of pressure of being the best player in the world have made sure of that, and all David wants is to peel that layer of guilt away and have Leo smiling a real smile again. ”You have done nothing wrong, because you didn’t know, you hear that?” and it’s not completely satisfactory yet, but there is a tug at the corners of Leo’s mouth and - David doesn’t think it’s fabricated this time.
“I should probably…” David lets the end of the sentence hang mid-air with a questioning look and Leo’s smile is sad, but it is a smile nevertheless.
“Yeah” he nods and let’s go of David. He gets dressed in no time, finds his shirt beside the bed and gives Leo’s shoulder a squeeze before heading for the door.
He turns to look over his shoulder and says softly “Promise you won’t beat yourself up over this, Leo” and when he finally gets a confirming nod, he’s out the door.
~*~*~
There are distant noises coming from the highway, a dog barking just a block away, but nothing reaches David’s ears but the thudding of his heart as he makes his way to his car. Not even the flashes of a camera and the instant clicks can crowd its way to David’s mind, who stops for a second just to look back up at Leo’s bedroom window before opening the door to his car.
It will be a long ride home.
~*~*~
III.
Villa
The third time is inevitable. Kind of. There’s been this kind of unspoken promise to Silva, how when they became - whatever they are - that he wouldn’t - well, expand his family further, so to speak. It’s not something they’ve ever talked about, and David doesn’t expect Silva not to go on and build a family on his own. He could never ask something like that from him, but he thinks this the least he can do himself. In theory, it works perfectly fine. But then David comes home from a title deciding home win in which he scored the winning goal in the last minute, and Patricia is wearing a new dress and that flowery perfume he loves, and the children are staying at Patricia’s mum’s and - and David is only human, right. He doesn’t think about the consequences.
Patricia, of course, is delighted. David is too, he’s over the moon and could never not be because he loves his family more than anything. Still, there’s that small gnawing feeling of guilt buried deep inside of him. He quickly pushes the feeling away, and it’s easy because it’s a long time until the next call-up.
~*~*~
Silva
It’s just a coincidence that David sees it. He’s just driven home from a particularly rainy training session at Carrington and is towelling his hair while waiting for his computer to start. He checks his phone and there’s tree texts, from his mother and cousin congratulating him on yesterday’s goal and one from Pepe that reads call me if you need to talk and that makes Silva frown because even though they only drew they still sit perfectly on top of the table. He continues to check the scores from the Liga games and sees that Villa scored his first of the season, so he sends him a congratulations. He checks his emails, updates his twitter, replies to some messages. When he’s bored he goes on Marca, against better judgement, because there’re always new rumours and it’s amusing to read sometimes.
And there it is. It’s not a big front-page headline, because Messi’s broken another record and that takes up most part of the site, but David only has to scroll once to see the picture of him. And then, against his will, his stomach drops.
Third time’s a charm; David Villa expects son in February
And against better judgement, he clicks the link and reads the Read More. Watches the video of David dedicating his goal to his unborn son, watches him being all smiles in the post-match interview. Reads the article about how happy the couple are about having a son and if he will be a footballer and sometime around that moment David leans back and tips his face towards the ceiling because his head has started spinning suspiciously.
He knows he should be glad, should be happy for David and Patricia. David has always wanted a family; wanted kids. Silva wants them too, but it’s hard when the one you want them with is already occupied.
Maybe Silva is overreacting because he knows what the terms are. They have talked about this, about family, about them. But sometimes the sting in his heart is too much and he’s wondering if it’s worth it. Silva will always be number two even if David says otherwise. If they’re lying in bed after an extremely tough day and Patricia calls, one of the girls missing her dad or being ill - David always answers and always ends up on the other end of the bed, out of reach and comfort. It’s like a title race and Silva always stumbles - scraping his knees and hands but comes in second despite the effort.
He goes to bed early and starts flipping through his phone, runs through his alternatives in his head. Calling David is out of the question. He contemplates calling someone from their national team or even his cousin or some of his friends from home but no one knows about him and David and he can’t handle telling them the whole story over the phone, not right now. His City team mates don’t understand Spanish, mostly, and they don’t know either. Only Pepe left, who seems the most logical one, and he almost taps ‘call’ before changing his mind.
He’ll see him in two weeks during call ups. He throws his phone on the bedside table and goes to bed.
~*~*~
IIII.
Villa
David wraps his scarf tighter around his neck when he gets out of the car together with Xavi and Andres at Las Rozas. It’s chilly, so at least he has an excuse to be wearing the black knitted fabric around his neck. He passes the reporters and paparazzi who have gathered and heads for the lobby where some of the staff is waiting.
His room is between Pepe’s and what he assumes will be Silva’s and he quickly escapes to the former’s to get more time. He needs to think.
Pepe greets him with a hug and ruffles his hair and David steps back and gives him such an angry pout it makes Pepe laugh. He knows how much David hates it when people (who aren’t Silva) touch his hair.
”Father to be,” Pepe rumbles and David grins. ”Who’d have guessed. I didn’t think you’d, after-” he watches David’s expression turn solemn and tilts his head. ”You haven’t talked to him yet, have you?”
It’s like the wind is knocked out of David and he slumps down in the chair closest to him. He buries his face in his hands and mumbles, so Pepe has to lean down and kneel in front of him.
”I don’t know what to say to him- Pepe, I have no fucking clue what to say,” he sounds so desperate and so suddenly young, Pepe stays silent for a moment.
”Hey, you never promised him anything, eh?” he settles with and pats David’s shoulder lightly.
”That was the deal, remember? You told me - this wouldn’t stop your family lives from going on, David.”
David looks up at him, eyes red and tired. ”I know, but after all I’ve done- he doesn’t deserve this, you know?” Pepe just smiles lopsidedly at him.
~*~*~
Silva
The door flicks shut behind him as he sinks down on his bed. He feels drained, physically from their game yesterday and mentally from how his thoughts have run wild ever since he got on the plane that would take him here. Back to Spain, to Las Rozas, to him - to Villa. He absently wonders if the others have arrived from their different cities yet or if he’s early - if they will have food soon and if he should text his cousin about the tickets to their game- It keeps his mind occupied for a while but far too soon his thoughts drift back to the team and in the room next to his, Villa. It’s not like them at all, not meeting each other in the lobby, all smiles and hugs and ’I missed you’ - but then again, Silva thinks, keeping secrets and breaking promises aren’t like them either.
He leans against the bedpost; arms around his knees, looking out the window. It looks like it’s about to snow which is ridiculous because this is Spain David thinks when a knock on the door startles him.
At first he thinks it might be room service, but then again he never called them and then he goes through a mental list of people it could hopefully be - though he already knows who awaits him.
The walk to the door feels like a mile and he rests his forehead against the cold door before opening it.
It’s weird because Villa looks exactly the same. Aside from the dark rings under his eyes and the way his arms are fallen limb at his sides, he hasn’t changed in the slightest since the last time they saw each other. David doesn’t know what he had expected, if he’d assumed that Villa’s expressions, air or posture would have changed along with his character. If what he’d done would somehow be visible to the outside world. David watches, maybe too long, but Villa doesn’t shield himself or shoulders himself inside, just waits and lets David to do as he pleases.
It feels like an eternity before David steps aside - getting rid of the thoughts that tells him to slam the door in Villa’s face because that won’t do anything better. What he isn’t prepared for though is Villa’s lips on his, hands pressing him firmly against the wall. He doesn’t return the kiss, nor does he push Villa away. There is too much teeth and David’s lips are almost numb when he finally gets his senses back and pushes maybe a bit too hard at Villa’s shoulder.
“You have no right-“ David stops midsentence because he hadn’t noticed Villa being on the floor and doesn’t continue until he’s found his posture again, “you have no right to claim what you think is yours.” He tries to hold his voice down but suddenly it’s welling up inside of him.
“To claim what I think is mine?” Villa looks like he was just told he couldn’t play football anymore and David thinks that he is the one who should look like that for what is yet to come.
“Don’t you think I haven’t noticed? That I haven’t understood? We can put Patricia aside, but Cesc isn’t the only one is he?” David’s voice breaks in the end because for only half a second the answer is in Villa’s eyes and David knows that he’s right.
“Isn’t the only wha-“
“David Villa, don’t play the stupid card on me, please. Don’t you see anything odd in these pictures?” David holds up his phone, a picture of Leo and Villa entering Leo’s house in daily sunlight and then another of Villa leaving in moonlight. The evidences are clear.
~*~*~
Villa
He’s so utterly fucked, David thinks as soon as he sees the pictures Silva has put under his nose. The second thing that comes to mind is that Silva never uses his full name, only when he does something stupid as uttering something his brain filter doesn’t cross out and he has to apologize.
“Look, it’s not what i-“ David starts but Silva cuts him off furiously.
“It looks like? Even a blind man would see it, David. This picture is surely taken hours after you first arrived at Messi’s house and then your shirt was tucked in, but on this picture it’s wrinkled and the last two buttons open. Your face is flushed in the exact same wa-“
David thinks about a snide remark about how Silva maybe should’ve become a private detective or even a journalist the way he’s acting but he thinks better of it, because he himself is, in fact, not better. Instead he settles with; “I know what it looks like, alright? But it’s not what you think.”
“It’s not? Then you look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t sleep with him.” is Silva’s reply and David wants to protest, wants to tell him that nothing happened and that everything is fine. But he can’t. This is Silva, whom he loves, and he can’t lie. He can’t lie to Silva about this, because Silva has always been able to trust him before, and he has to continue doing so. David needs it, needs Silva to keep on going. So he stays silent.
“Do you want to know what the worst part is?” Silva’s breath hitches a bit before he continues. ”I don’t even… hate you for not loving me anymore; I just hate myself for still loving you.” Silva looks away from David, but not before David sees the tear that has found its way down Silva’s cheek and something in David breaks when he sees it - when he understands that it’s him who’s made Silva feel this way.
“Silva. David. I’ve been the biggest asshole you can imagine, okay?” He looks and Silva gives him a small nod and David thinks that well, serves him right. ”I know that. But Cesc just... was there. And then when I thought that you and Agüero-“
”Kun? What about him?” Silva looks momentarily surprised at David mentioning his teammate’s name and David feels ten times more stupid.
“Well, Pepe said-“ he starts and Silva’s surprised look turns into one of disbelief.
“You listen to him? He’s living in his own world, David, why the hell would you trust him more than me?”
David is grasping for words now, for a way to explain his otherwise unexplainable jealousy, that’s so strongly connected to Silva because he is his. “Because I watched your games too, and you two had this connection, like yin and yong and-“
“It’s yang.”
“Whatever.” David waves Silva’s input away with his hand as if it was a wasp irritating him
and continues his rant. ”Anyway, you play really well together and I couldn’t not see how happy you were and you seemed so close and it reminded me of us in Valencia and - can you blame me?” he says it all in one breath and feels dizzy when he’s done. He looks up at Silva who is watching him.
“No, I guess not. But it still doesn’t make what you did alright even if it was because you were jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
“Course you weren’t.” Silva rolls his eyes at David’s stubbornness and David wishes, hopes, for a second that somehow, this can end well.
“Are we good?”
Silva studies him for a long while, seems to be weighing his options inside his head. David gets the feeling of being in court when the jury is deciding his fate as he watches them with pleading eyes and waits for the verdict. Silva swallows once before opening his mouth.
“Not yet, but I think we will be.”