your fingertips' kiss
title: your fingertips' kiss
pairing: esteban granero/sergio ramos
rating: pg
disclaimer: fiction
first and foremost for lady_quark. merry christmas ♥
It’s a warm night in Madrid, summer still clinging as fiercely as it could. Most of the team has posted up in Iker’s home, now the captain and lone veteran of the team. Wine and conversation floats around comfortably, laughter floating through the air. Everyone is relaxed with the feeling of high hopes in their hearts. This season is theirs.
It’s Marcelo, of course, who prods Esteban into playing the guitar for all of them and Iker is more than happy to provide the instrument with a grin. He tries his best to get out of it, saying that he doesn’t know what to play, that he’s too drunk to play (though he’s not at all). But in the end he concedes to defeat and a loud bout of cheer sounds around the room as he takes the guitar in his hands.
Everyone falls silent as he picks at the strings experimentally, tuning it to his liking. Only Cristiano hollers when he takes too long, teasing him that he’s not recording a song but only playing for them. Esteban curses him playfully before turning his full attention to the soft strings of the guitar once again. He strokes the base a few times, the wood feeling supple underneath his fingertips. Then he begins - slowly, hesitantly. He doesn’t really know what he is playing but he doesn’t stop, just lets it come to him. He strums softly, the music low and quiet but loud enough for everyone to be in awe.
When he was growing up, his grandfather had given him his first guitar. It was old, used and beat up but Esteban still has it, still plays it from time to time when the pressure and frustration of football are too much for him to handle. It has always been his form of therapy.
He doesn’t know when he closes his eyes but he does, letting the music and memories of his childhood take over. His abuelo had taught him as well as showed him how to appreciate the sound of music. Esteban will never forget the time he had asked him to teach him how to play a romantic song because he wanted to impress a girl in his class. Of course his abuelito had the perfect song for him, all soft melodies and careful pickings of the strings but he had also teased Esteban like no other. In the end however, Esteban never got the chance to play the song for the girl because he had been too nervous and broke a string when he was tuning the guitar. Not his finer moment in life that is for sure.
His fingers take over and he plays a song he knows others will recognise. He lets the melody take over but then someone says his name - sounds like Pepe.
When he opens his eyes it is Sergio who catches attention however, staring right at him with a look of... Esteban can’t explain it but Sergio’s eyes are fiery yet are full of questions. Esteban doesn’t know why he blushes but he does before closing his eyes and returning his fingers to the strings of the guitar. This time however he is aware that eyes are still on him, that Sergio is still gazing at him with such eyes, such wonderment. If he is honest with himself however, Esteban must admit that it makes his fingers move with a little more purpose.
**
It’s getting late and most of the team has left except for a few stragglers. Iker is busy putting away the many empty bottles of wine in the kitchen so Esteban takes opportunity to pick up the guitar he had put away earlier when a few of the others wanted to call it a night. He strokes the strings carefully, quietly.
“Was she your first love?”
Esteban looks up and sees Sergio’s looming figure leaning against the door frame, a glass of dark wine in his hand. He follows Sergio’s line of vision and chuckles when he sees him looking at the guitar.
“Of course. I still love her very much though we are infrequent lovers now.” Esteban looks down and grazes the wood softly.
Sergio comes into the room and takes a seat across from his teammate, placing his glass down on the table in front of him. “Why? You don’t have a guitar?”
Esteban shakes his head. “No, no, I do. It’s just that with football and everything else, most times I just forget. Though it is a great stress reliever for me.”
“As flamenco is for me,” Sergio laughs lowly. “You play beautifully. You should do it more often.”
Esteban laughs too, looking a little embarrassed. “Thank you. I will try to from now on.” He picks at the strings softly with his index and middle fingers, just something sporadic but heartfelt. It is calming, relaxing and exactly how Esteban feels right now.
**
It’s close to five in the morning when Iker finally kicks the rest of them out (after offering them to crash at his place of course). The air is warm and comfortable and when Esteban exits his house, he feels good.
Before he gets into a cab however, Sergio pulls him into a hug and kisses his cheeks lightly, lingering a little longer than necessary.
“You should play for me again sometime.”
Esteban hears what Sergio isn’t saying and he smiles, taking in Sergio’s slightly intoxicated gaze. He pats his cheek. “Of course.”
pairing: esteban granero/sergio ramos
rating: pg
disclaimer: fiction
first and foremost for lady_quark. merry christmas ♥
It’s a warm night in Madrid, summer still clinging as fiercely as it could. Most of the team has posted up in Iker’s home, now the captain and lone veteran of the team. Wine and conversation floats around comfortably, laughter floating through the air. Everyone is relaxed with the feeling of high hopes in their hearts. This season is theirs.
It’s Marcelo, of course, who prods Esteban into playing the guitar for all of them and Iker is more than happy to provide the instrument with a grin. He tries his best to get out of it, saying that he doesn’t know what to play, that he’s too drunk to play (though he’s not at all). But in the end he concedes to defeat and a loud bout of cheer sounds around the room as he takes the guitar in his hands.
Everyone falls silent as he picks at the strings experimentally, tuning it to his liking. Only Cristiano hollers when he takes too long, teasing him that he’s not recording a song but only playing for them. Esteban curses him playfully before turning his full attention to the soft strings of the guitar once again. He strokes the base a few times, the wood feeling supple underneath his fingertips. Then he begins - slowly, hesitantly. He doesn’t really know what he is playing but he doesn’t stop, just lets it come to him. He strums softly, the music low and quiet but loud enough for everyone to be in awe.
When he was growing up, his grandfather had given him his first guitar. It was old, used and beat up but Esteban still has it, still plays it from time to time when the pressure and frustration of football are too much for him to handle. It has always been his form of therapy.
He doesn’t know when he closes his eyes but he does, letting the music and memories of his childhood take over. His abuelo had taught him as well as showed him how to appreciate the sound of music. Esteban will never forget the time he had asked him to teach him how to play a romantic song because he wanted to impress a girl in his class. Of course his abuelito had the perfect song for him, all soft melodies and careful pickings of the strings but he had also teased Esteban like no other. In the end however, Esteban never got the chance to play the song for the girl because he had been too nervous and broke a string when he was tuning the guitar. Not his finer moment in life that is for sure.
His fingers take over and he plays a song he knows others will recognise. He lets the melody take over but then someone says his name - sounds like Pepe.
When he opens his eyes it is Sergio who catches attention however, staring right at him with a look of... Esteban can’t explain it but Sergio’s eyes are fiery yet are full of questions. Esteban doesn’t know why he blushes but he does before closing his eyes and returning his fingers to the strings of the guitar. This time however he is aware that eyes are still on him, that Sergio is still gazing at him with such eyes, such wonderment. If he is honest with himself however, Esteban must admit that it makes his fingers move with a little more purpose.
**
It’s getting late and most of the team has left except for a few stragglers. Iker is busy putting away the many empty bottles of wine in the kitchen so Esteban takes opportunity to pick up the guitar he had put away earlier when a few of the others wanted to call it a night. He strokes the strings carefully, quietly.
“Was she your first love?”
Esteban looks up and sees Sergio’s looming figure leaning against the door frame, a glass of dark wine in his hand. He follows Sergio’s line of vision and chuckles when he sees him looking at the guitar.
“Of course. I still love her very much though we are infrequent lovers now.” Esteban looks down and grazes the wood softly.
Sergio comes into the room and takes a seat across from his teammate, placing his glass down on the table in front of him. “Why? You don’t have a guitar?”
Esteban shakes his head. “No, no, I do. It’s just that with football and everything else, most times I just forget. Though it is a great stress reliever for me.”
“As flamenco is for me,” Sergio laughs lowly. “You play beautifully. You should do it more often.”
Esteban laughs too, looking a little embarrassed. “Thank you. I will try to from now on.” He picks at the strings softly with his index and middle fingers, just something sporadic but heartfelt. It is calming, relaxing and exactly how Esteban feels right now.
**
It’s close to five in the morning when Iker finally kicks the rest of them out (after offering them to crash at his place of course). The air is warm and comfortable and when Esteban exits his house, he feels good.
Before he gets into a cab however, Sergio pulls him into a hug and kisses his cheeks lightly, lingering a little longer than necessary.
“You should play for me again sometime.”
Esteban hears what Sergio isn’t saying and he smiles, taking in Sergio’s slightly intoxicated gaze. He pats his cheek. “Of course.”