fic: excuses to fill the space
title: excuses to fill the space
pairing: leonardo/alexandre pato
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: fiction
for calzamante from this meme. (am scared right now. i hope i did your team/boys justice!)
Everyone had heard of the kid - this seventeen year old boy who was lightening quick and put players who were older than him to shame. He had only played for two seasons for Internacional but everyone in Brasil had come to know his name. The Duck they affectionately would call him.
So it was only natural for Leonardo to want to witness what the hype was all about for himself. What he found was a boy with a mop of curly hair, his face riddled by the ritual of puberty. He was too quiet, too shy: when Alexandre met Leonardo for the first time he barely looked him in the eye. But all that was secondary to his movements on the pitch. The boy was simply flawless and was the epitome of the ‘talk on the pitch’ cliché. He seemed to have an instinct as to where the crosses where going to come from, of where the defenders and goalkeeper were. It was then Leonardo decided Alexandre would be a perfect fit for Milan.
Convincing the boy (and his parents for that matter) had proven to be far more of a struggle than he had originally anticipated. Because in all honestly who would turn down the chance to play for such a world class club in one of the best cities in the world? Alexandre’s parents, well mother however tried her best to convince Leonardo that the clubs in Brasil were just as good, like she was the recruiter and he the one being recruited. It wasn’t like he was heartless; no Leonardo remembered the day he too had left the country, young and eager to prove himself. Behind those quiet youthful eyes he knew Alexandre was just as ready as he was all those years ago.
So with the promise of being the boy’s mentor and protector Leonardo had finally got ‘The Next Pele’ on a plane bound for Milan.
**
Leonardo wasn’t going to lie; he found the boy’s stumbling about - a sure sign of shock and awe of the stars surrounding him (though he didn’t a word) - a little bit endearing and immensely amusing. The first time Alexandre met Paolo he was a mumbling blushing mess and will never live down the fact that tripped and fell into the legend when he had offered his hand in greeting. Leonardo knew his mentoring would have to apply to off the pitch etiquette as well.
However it was on the pitch that Alexandre truly relaxed and let the flow of the beautiful game take over. He was always so ready to learn, to listen and take advice. Though he had trainers at his dispose, he still sought out Leonardo for help, finally able to keep eye contact for more than a minute.
Time first time he scored wearing the red and black of AC Milan it didn’t matter that it was just a friendly. His happiness had escaped and flowed into the locker room, into the other players who had scored brilliant highlight reel goals on a weekly basis. On January 13, 2008, when it counted and mattered he had taken Leonardo out for dinner after to show his gratitude to his confidant and savoir.
Leonardo had of course thought it was just the boy being silly and young at the time and didn’t think of much of it when he hadn’t stop smiling all night. Nor did he pay attention to the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy.
He was just sharing in the joy.
**
Leonardo’s first match as a manager had him feeling like a young boy again, debuting in attempt to show the world his skill. And in a way the feeling is founded; the butterflies in his stomach, the nausea. He had to prove himself all over again. This time he found it a little more frightening than the first time around.
However the debut win (and Alexandre’s two brilliant goals) was overshadowed by the embarrassing loss to Internazionale in front their own fans at the San Siro. It was a poor performance by the team - that was no secret. But he saw potential. Of course he had placed the blame on himself. He was the manager after all. The combinations of players just hadn’t worked out in the way he thought, the way it had in the first match and he knew he had to be a little more daring, a little more risky if he wanted the results to fall in his favour.
Alexandre had met him after the match, had waited for him while the others shuffled along. It was weird for Leonardo to hear the boy try to reassure him, to convince him he was doing a fine job. After the shock wore off, he had laughed at the boy and patted his cheek affectionately. It was endearing at he cared to check in with him, that he thought he could assume the mentor role in a situation he had never experienced in any of his eighteen years.
In the moment he also thought it was charming that Alexandre had kissed his cheeks and held on to him a little longer than necessary before they parted for the night. He just chalked it up to a little boy playing grown-up.
**
It was so loud; most of the fans jeered while the small minority of AC Milan fans cheered, danced and sang to their hearts content. But what was even louder than that was the beating of his heart. He had scored inside the Bernabéu - Santiago Bernabéu. He was suddenly filled with a feeling, something that made him believe that the night was his. A quiet ‘That’s my boy!’ in his ear from Leonardo as he hugged him tight had fuelled the fire in his veins.
If the first goal was a rare mistake by Casillas the second one was just pure brilliance by the boy. Perfect positioning. Perfect patience. Perfect strike. Just perfect. And when the final whistle blew he couldn’t believe it - couldn’t fucking believe it.
He was just about to go to bed, his body finally calming down after such a night when there was a knock to his hotel room door. Alexandre had hugged and ushered Leonardo in immediately. It was late but a few more minutes weren’t going to hurt.
Somewhere between talking about the match that had just occurred and looking forward to their next match against Chievo Alexandre found his concentration on the conversation wavering and when Leonardo had asked him if he was okay he did the only thing he could, the only thing that came to mind.
He kissed him.
The lips against his were tense and tight but only for a few seconds before they relaxed and gave into the kiss. Tongues became acquainted and Leonardo couldn’t help but bring his hands to frame the boy’s slim and slightly stubbled cheeks. When he pulled away Alexandre’s eyes were closed - his dark lashes long and in contrast to his pale skin - but only for second before he whipped them open and stumbled over his words, stuck on “I”.
Leonardo had just smiled and shook his head before saying they both had better get to bed (they had an early flight the next morning).
When he was in his room later, in bed with scratchy uncomfortable sheets that were nothing like the ones in his home in Milan, Leonardo chalked up the kiss as left over adrenalin from such an intense match.
**
The team was the first ones to know about the decision of him not returning the next season. He didn’t single any one person out to tell them first before the others. No they were a collective unit and deserved to hear it straight from him.
As neutral as he tried to be however, his eyes kept gazing back over to the boy who had his head down the entire time Leonardo had stumbled through the speech he had spent the entire night working on. It bothered him. Why wouldn’t he look up? Though he was the manager he needed that reassurance that they were okay this, that he with this.
It’s only when the locker room cleared entirely except for him and the boy did Alexandre approach him. He didn’t say anything, just cocked his head to the side and stared. It was weird, like he was assessing him, judging him. When Leonardo couldn’t stand it any longer and opened his mouth to say something, Alexandre cut him off with a kiss and whispered ‘thank you’ against his lips.
**
The last match of the season, of his season came and went, emotions filling him though he knew it wasn’t the end of his life in Italy. The country, the city of Milan, had won his heart forever. However it was still overwhelming.
The win had been nice, especially being at home. The players said goodbye to each other, some getting ready for a long summer while others preparing for South Africa. Brasil was Leonardo’s destination and he was more than looking forward to it.
It wasn’t until he got back to his native country that he found it. Tucked into the pocket of one of his training jackets was a note, neatly and carefully folded.
Don’t know if I can say this enough but thank you for everything.
I mean it. Truly.
-Alex
PS. If you get bored you know where I live
It made him smile. Leonardo chalked it up to being an old man who was already missing his club.
pairing: leonardo/alexandre pato
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: fiction
for calzamante from this meme. (am scared right now. i hope i did your team/boys justice!)
Everyone had heard of the kid - this seventeen year old boy who was lightening quick and put players who were older than him to shame. He had only played for two seasons for Internacional but everyone in Brasil had come to know his name. The Duck they affectionately would call him.
So it was only natural for Leonardo to want to witness what the hype was all about for himself. What he found was a boy with a mop of curly hair, his face riddled by the ritual of puberty. He was too quiet, too shy: when Alexandre met Leonardo for the first time he barely looked him in the eye. But all that was secondary to his movements on the pitch. The boy was simply flawless and was the epitome of the ‘talk on the pitch’ cliché. He seemed to have an instinct as to where the crosses where going to come from, of where the defenders and goalkeeper were. It was then Leonardo decided Alexandre would be a perfect fit for Milan.
Convincing the boy (and his parents for that matter) had proven to be far more of a struggle than he had originally anticipated. Because in all honestly who would turn down the chance to play for such a world class club in one of the best cities in the world? Alexandre’s parents, well mother however tried her best to convince Leonardo that the clubs in Brasil were just as good, like she was the recruiter and he the one being recruited. It wasn’t like he was heartless; no Leonardo remembered the day he too had left the country, young and eager to prove himself. Behind those quiet youthful eyes he knew Alexandre was just as ready as he was all those years ago.
So with the promise of being the boy’s mentor and protector Leonardo had finally got ‘The Next Pele’ on a plane bound for Milan.
**
Leonardo wasn’t going to lie; he found the boy’s stumbling about - a sure sign of shock and awe of the stars surrounding him (though he didn’t a word) - a little bit endearing and immensely amusing. The first time Alexandre met Paolo he was a mumbling blushing mess and will never live down the fact that tripped and fell into the legend when he had offered his hand in greeting. Leonardo knew his mentoring would have to apply to off the pitch etiquette as well.
However it was on the pitch that Alexandre truly relaxed and let the flow of the beautiful game take over. He was always so ready to learn, to listen and take advice. Though he had trainers at his dispose, he still sought out Leonardo for help, finally able to keep eye contact for more than a minute.
Time first time he scored wearing the red and black of AC Milan it didn’t matter that it was just a friendly. His happiness had escaped and flowed into the locker room, into the other players who had scored brilliant highlight reel goals on a weekly basis. On January 13, 2008, when it counted and mattered he had taken Leonardo out for dinner after to show his gratitude to his confidant and savoir.
Leonardo had of course thought it was just the boy being silly and young at the time and didn’t think of much of it when he hadn’t stop smiling all night. Nor did he pay attention to the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy.
He was just sharing in the joy.
**
Leonardo’s first match as a manager had him feeling like a young boy again, debuting in attempt to show the world his skill. And in a way the feeling is founded; the butterflies in his stomach, the nausea. He had to prove himself all over again. This time he found it a little more frightening than the first time around.
However the debut win (and Alexandre’s two brilliant goals) was overshadowed by the embarrassing loss to Internazionale in front their own fans at the San Siro. It was a poor performance by the team - that was no secret. But he saw potential. Of course he had placed the blame on himself. He was the manager after all. The combinations of players just hadn’t worked out in the way he thought, the way it had in the first match and he knew he had to be a little more daring, a little more risky if he wanted the results to fall in his favour.
Alexandre had met him after the match, had waited for him while the others shuffled along. It was weird for Leonardo to hear the boy try to reassure him, to convince him he was doing a fine job. After the shock wore off, he had laughed at the boy and patted his cheek affectionately. It was endearing at he cared to check in with him, that he thought he could assume the mentor role in a situation he had never experienced in any of his eighteen years.
In the moment he also thought it was charming that Alexandre had kissed his cheeks and held on to him a little longer than necessary before they parted for the night. He just chalked it up to a little boy playing grown-up.
**
It was so loud; most of the fans jeered while the small minority of AC Milan fans cheered, danced and sang to their hearts content. But what was even louder than that was the beating of his heart. He had scored inside the Bernabéu - Santiago Bernabéu. He was suddenly filled with a feeling, something that made him believe that the night was his. A quiet ‘That’s my boy!’ in his ear from Leonardo as he hugged him tight had fuelled the fire in his veins.
If the first goal was a rare mistake by Casillas the second one was just pure brilliance by the boy. Perfect positioning. Perfect patience. Perfect strike. Just perfect. And when the final whistle blew he couldn’t believe it - couldn’t fucking believe it.
He was just about to go to bed, his body finally calming down after such a night when there was a knock to his hotel room door. Alexandre had hugged and ushered Leonardo in immediately. It was late but a few more minutes weren’t going to hurt.
Somewhere between talking about the match that had just occurred and looking forward to their next match against Chievo Alexandre found his concentration on the conversation wavering and when Leonardo had asked him if he was okay he did the only thing he could, the only thing that came to mind.
He kissed him.
The lips against his were tense and tight but only for a few seconds before they relaxed and gave into the kiss. Tongues became acquainted and Leonardo couldn’t help but bring his hands to frame the boy’s slim and slightly stubbled cheeks. When he pulled away Alexandre’s eyes were closed - his dark lashes long and in contrast to his pale skin - but only for second before he whipped them open and stumbled over his words, stuck on “I”.
Leonardo had just smiled and shook his head before saying they both had better get to bed (they had an early flight the next morning).
When he was in his room later, in bed with scratchy uncomfortable sheets that were nothing like the ones in his home in Milan, Leonardo chalked up the kiss as left over adrenalin from such an intense match.
**
The team was the first ones to know about the decision of him not returning the next season. He didn’t single any one person out to tell them first before the others. No they were a collective unit and deserved to hear it straight from him.
As neutral as he tried to be however, his eyes kept gazing back over to the boy who had his head down the entire time Leonardo had stumbled through the speech he had spent the entire night working on. It bothered him. Why wouldn’t he look up? Though he was the manager he needed that reassurance that they were okay this, that he with this.
It’s only when the locker room cleared entirely except for him and the boy did Alexandre approach him. He didn’t say anything, just cocked his head to the side and stared. It was weird, like he was assessing him, judging him. When Leonardo couldn’t stand it any longer and opened his mouth to say something, Alexandre cut him off with a kiss and whispered ‘thank you’ against his lips.
**
The last match of the season, of his season came and went, emotions filling him though he knew it wasn’t the end of his life in Italy. The country, the city of Milan, had won his heart forever. However it was still overwhelming.
The win had been nice, especially being at home. The players said goodbye to each other, some getting ready for a long summer while others preparing for South Africa. Brasil was Leonardo’s destination and he was more than looking forward to it.
It wasn’t until he got back to his native country that he found it. Tucked into the pocket of one of his training jackets was a note, neatly and carefully folded.
Don’t know if I can say this enough but thank you for everything.
I mean it. Truly.
-Alex
PS. If you get bored you know where I live
It made him smile. Leonardo chalked it up to being an old man who was already missing his club.