the unfinished work dump, part 1: football, section a.3: fernando/sergio
019. 08/03/11. prompt: dirt. word count: 8021
The thing is, Fernando just wants to play guitar. He doesn’t want to deal with divas throwing tantrums or fans screaming his name or girls throwing themselves at him. He just wants to hear the chords come alive, to feel the strings underneath his calloused fingers and get lost in the music, to do something he loves. His parents hate that he’s let this choice become his life, that he’s twenty five years old and has no roots put down, no steady job, no permanent house. He has a car that sits in their driveway and friends couches to crash on during the few weeks a year he’s not on the road, but his life is far from glamorous. He’s not any big name band member, just a guy in the background while the newest pop tart or one hit wonder sells themselves across the world for their fifteen minutes of fame. He gets chosen for the band most of the time by managers, because he’s adaptable and talented or they’ve worked with him before and know he’s quiet and never any trouble. Sometimes the singers get involved, pick him because he’s cute, tall with thick blond hair and big brown eyes and a mess of freckles that make him look no older than sixteen on most occasions. They pick him because they want to take him home, and they grow frustrated by the end of their tours because Fernando doesn’t believe in fraternizing with the acts, doesn’t like clubs or parties or copious amounts of drugs. There are acts he loves, like the time he filled in on guitar on John Mayer’s tour because his first pick had been booked for something else first. There are acts he hates, like the slutty blonde who lip synced everything because without auto tune her voice was crap, who picked him to play because she wanted to bang him and would not stop throwing herself at him for the entire month he was part of her radio show Christmas festival tour. These are things Fernando does to do what he loves, and while his parents hate his lifestyle, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
It’s early spring when he gets the call. Most of the tours are just being booked and Fernando’s agent has been shopping him out to everyone, trying to get him into one of the summer tours coming up. Summer is the busiest time, everyone and their mother books tours while kids are out of school, when ampitheaters can actually be used, when it seems like everyone has money burning holes in their pockets. It’s no secret he’s been pushing at Pepe to get him on the Britney Spears tour, his dream summer tour. (Fernando has this fantasy, where he lands the gig and he gets over his shyness, where he makes her laugh and brings some life back into her eyes. Then he marries her and helps raise her kids and shows her how a real man treats a woman like her, with love and adoration and affection, because he’s had a crush on her since the first time he saw the Baby One More Time video. Pepe does not know this is his intention, because Fernando is sure if he ever told this to the older man, he would laugh at him.) He’s mowing his parents’ front lawn when his mother calls him in, tells him that the phone’s for him. He’s exhausted, their yard is huge and a hill and when he’s home they use him for manual labor instead of calling in landscapers, the least they can do for giving him free room and board since he’s jobless. (Temporarily, he will argue, and his father will shake his head and his mother will sigh and he won’t fight them because they really do just want whats best for their youngest son.) His t-shirt is wet with sweat, sticking to his skin like a glove as he heads into the cool house, kicks off his dirty grass clipping covered shoes before his mother can yell at him, taking the phone into the kitchen to get himself a much needed cold beer, while waiting on what Pepe has to say.
“So did you get me Britney?” He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to help twist off the cap of the bottle, taking a long drink while his agent talks.
“Not exactly. I got you something better maybe. You know that kid, Sergio? Just won that huge singing competition? Well, he wants you. Like, picked you out of everybody and wants you to play with him. It’s a huge tour, you know, and if he likes you on the road, he might make you a permanent fixture in his band since he’s cutting a record after the tour.” Pepe’s right, it is a huge tour. The entire country watched this kid, voted for him to win the competition, and would come out to see him in droves. “I know you’re thinking about it, and it means you’ll have to play for all the contestants too, but he’s the headliner and he wants you. And you know most of these songs already, I know you do. So just say yes, so I can call them back and we can get the lawyers to work up everything and get you set up.” Fernando is still hesitating, mulling it over as he swishes the beer around in the bottle, sucks on the inside of his cheek.
“Can’t we hold out for Britney?” It’s not that he’s being ungrateful, she just never tours and he wants this, even if it winds up being a disaster.
“Fernando. You know you’re my favorite and I go out on a limb for you all the time, but everyone and their mother wants the Britney tour. And it’s not even definite, you know, the whole thing is a mess and even if by some miracle of a chance you do manage to land that tour? It might not even happen. So take this, say yes to this, because this is an amazing opportunity for you.” He can hear in his agent’s voice that he’s growing frustrated with Fernando’s ability to say yes to sure things, but he’s just not sure about it. He needs something to tell him to take it, a sign or something. He looks out the window and waits to see something out of the ordinary, but there’s nothing. His beer hasn’t turned into anything more interesting than it was when he first opened it, and the sky hasn’t started raining kittens.
“I don’t know, man...” he starts before he hears a loud noise, hears his mother yelling at him for tracking grass onto her new rug in the front hallway and Fernando sighs heavily. “I’ll do it.” He can almost hear Pepe’s smile at his agreement, rolling his eyes when his friend starts talking again quickly about contracts and money and all the things that come with being a musician that Fernando hates. He knows he’s more than taken care of in Pepe’s capable hands, and that on the bright side, at least he’ll be out of his parents house soon enough. It’s no Britney, but it’s better than where he is.
--
In the first few weeks of rehearsals, everyone gets to know one another. Fernando’s had time to learn all the songs, most he already knew, songs the ten contestants on the tour performed on the show, and for the top three, songs that they’ve had written for them in the time since the show ended. It’s not as nerve wracking as some other tours have been, for the most part the band is relaxed because these aren’t real artists, most of them are kids that are going to burn out by the end of the tour. Fernando enjoys that though, that all of this is such a huge deal for them, a dream come true, and they’re so grateful for the opportunity. There’s only one that has an attitude, thinks that he’s the only one of the group that has the power to become a lasting superstar. . Sergio Ramos has a reputation for being a bit of an egomaniac amongst the contestants and Fernando wonders if the entire country handing him the competition on a silver platter went to his head. There was no secret around the show that Sergio won everything by a landslide, that everyone was taken by his voice and good looks, that he just screamed rock star. He was 23 years old and looked like the boy next door, that is if you lived next door to a hippie commune. He was all bright eyes and long hair and features just slightly too big for his face, but beautiful. He could play off sweet to the camera, that he was just this boy making his dreams come true, that he really was just this humble college student who was lost in the world without making music. Everyone had fallen for the image he showed them, but behind the scenes, he was a bit of a monster.
It could have all be written off as jealousy, that the things Fernando had been hearing from the other singers were just because Sergio became so popular to the audience of the show, that none of them ever stood a chance against him up there. What he does know for sure is that he doesn’t like how Sergio is too busy with interviews and talk shows to show up to rehearsals when it’s basically his tour. It gives time for everyone to settle in though, everyone holed up at some tacky mansion in Los Angeles. The bands’ rooms are remarkably smaller than the singers, while they’re all mostly neatly two to a room, with a single reserved for Sergio and another for Sara, the runner up, Fernando’s holed up in a room with barely enough room for the three beds, let alone all of his and Stevie and Raul’s stuff. He likes his band mates though, Stevie Gerrard’s a guitarist he’s always admired, even going a little starstruck on first sight with him. Raul Meireles is an incredibly talented bassist, quiet and kind of mysterious, but Fernando likes that about him, likes the off kilter jokes he cracks under his breath for Fernando’s amusement and the tattoos covering almost every inch of him. He likes Iker and Cesc too; Iker he’s toured with before, and a better drummer in the industry Fernando can’t name, and Cesc the youthful keyboardist. He’s supposed to be some kind of piano virtuoso, one of those kids that gave sold out concerts at the Hollywood Bowl of classical pieces, Beethoven, Chopin, Tchaichovsky. Fernando’s not sure how he wound up here, but he likes the kid, likes his sunny smile and his cheerful disposition, knows damn well that he’s a lot smarter than he lets on being.
The other kids are nice too, most of them appreciative of the band for spending the summer supporting them, mostly just grateful for the opportunity to play for crowds in some of the biggest stadiums in the country. They’re good kids, most of them, some with wives and husbands and babies, some still in high school that’ll go back for their senior years being superstars amongst their classmates. Fernando likes getting to know some of them, feels better about taking the tour because he’s helping making their dreams come true, he’s helping them with their one shot at being superstars for a summer. It’s not Britney, but he feels good about it all, like maybe this summer won’t be a disaster after all.
He thinks all this before he meets Sergio.
--
The mansion has this amazingly huge pool. The first time Fernando saw it, he couldn’t believe what he was looking at, but in the early summer heat, it seems like one of the most amazing things in the world. After one particularly grueling rehearsal, everyone decides they need to have a fun night, firing up the grill and hanging around by the pool, showing off with cannonballs and dives off the board, plenty of beer and lemonade and laughter. Fernando’s part of the game of volleyball going on in the middle of the pool, his focus on the game rather than the things going on around him. Iker’s manning the grill, Stevie’s nowhere to be found, and Cesc has decided to dj the party, with some playlist he made of dance pop songs that all sound exactly the same. Mostly, everyone’s just having fun, at least until he comes in. Fernando doesn’t notice him at first until he yells out a “hey!”, demands the attention of the party. It’s like everything stops suddenly, the music’s still playing, but all eyes are on Sergio, overdressed in his insanely tight jeans and tight fitting polo, lifitng his sunglasses off his eyes to take in everything. There’s a murmer of “heys” back at him before everyone goes back to their conversations, but Fernando’s eyes are glued on him, at least until he takes the beachball to the head, laughing and returning to the game. He’s not sure when Sergio rejoins the party after getting settled in his room and changing; all he knows is that he’s having fun and the uncomfortable feeling Sergio gave him isn’t going to ruin that tonight.
He’s not sure how long he’s spent in the pool, but all Fernando knows is he desperately needs a bottle of water. He’s slightly pruned on his fingertips, but being in the cool water while the sun set was kind of an amazing thing, hanging out with people he genuinely seems to like. All in all, it’s been a good night, but as he gets out of the pool, he hears a noise, almost like a low moan and he feels incredibly self conscious. Looking over his shoulder towards the sound of the noise, he sees Sergio, brown eyes focused solely on him from his perch in the hot tub, lifting up his bottle of beer towards Fernando when he notices the guitarist staring at him. Fernando swallows thickly and makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a towel on his way in to keep from dripping all over everything. It’s draped over his shoulders like a cape, catching the water dripping down from his shaggy blond hair. He’s rooting through the fridge when he hears the kitchen door slide open again, not paying much mind to the other person that’s come in. His attention is focused on finding the pitcher of iced tea he was looking for, just getting his fingers on the handle when he feels someone behind him, the hair on his skin prickling up immediately at the contrast in heat, his own cooled body almost in contact with one that was in hot water. He tenses, especially after he feels the contact of the boy’s finger on his back, tracing down the curve of his bent spine, just resting right above the elastic of his swim trunks.
“How adverse would you be to me slipping these off you and fucking you right here, gorgeous?” Even his speaking voice is beautiful, warm and seductive, but Fernando isn’t slipping into that trap. Grabbing the pitcher, he straightens up, pulling away from Sergio’s fingers, turning around to face him and avoid his eyes.
“Very.” His voice is steely but quiet, trying to manuever around the younger man so he won’t touch him again, won’t make him feel so ridiculously self conscious and scared and uncomfortable in his own skin. But Sergio’s not giving up, pressing up against him so they’re chest to chest and Fernando has nowhere to go but to back up against the counter. Sergio’s not much shorter, just barely an inch, but the way he holds himself makes Fernando feel like he’s so much smaller than the younger man. His hands are on Fernando’s skin again, pushing the towel off his shoulders and moving over his abs like he’s something that belongs to him.
“We can go somewhere else if you want. Up to my room, we can break my bed in, whatever you want, beautiful.” He’s almost blown away by how charming Sergio must think he is, how he thinks he can get away with this, with invading Fernando’s personal space and pressing up against him so Fernando can feel everything, can feel him thickening in his trunks against his thigh, can see in his eyes how he’s imagining how easy this should be. He’s freaked out; while people have come onto him before and been very persisitent in it, Sergio is a whole other level. Sergio is making his panic level rise, making his breath speed up as he shakes his head.
“Sergio, I’m not here to sleep with you, I’m here to work...” he doesn’t get a chance to finish before Sergio’s trying to kiss him, pushing those plump lips of his up against Fernando’s and slipping his hand down over his trunks, down to his crotch to rub him through the wet fabric. He wants to back away, he needs to back away, but his body is responding, and while his lips aren’t, that’s no detterant to Sergio. No, he has no problem with it, letting his lips move down to his jaw and further down to his neck, somehow finding the spot that makes Fernando’s knees buckle with the combination of his lips and his hand. He knows it’s wrong, knows he doesn’t really want it, but his body is quicker to give in than his mind, and he lets out a soft little noise he can’t help, one that just renews Sergio’s assault on him.
“Am I interrupting something?” Both their heads turn towards the new voice, the accented English of the Portugese bassist. Fernando looks at him like he’s a savior, shaking his head and finding the strength to push Sergio off him, grabbing the pitcher again and one of the glasses out of the cupboard and just taking it all outside, following after the older tattooed man and sinking into one of the lounge chairs near the pool, his face flushed red behind his mass of freckles. “Are you alright, you look a bit...” he trails off and laughs and Fernando knows what it means, he looks scared and flushed and embarrassed, and he’s all those things.
“I’m fine, Sergio was just... trying to introduce himself.” It sounded better than ‘forcing himself on me’ or ‘potentially trying to rape me because I can’t say no to someone who can kick me off the tour’, so Fernando went with it. Something told him Raul knew though, keeping the older man sticking to him like glue for the remainder of the night, keeping the singer at bay.
--
The tour kicks off in Utah. The tour manager Xabi (poor frazzled overworked Xabi Alonso, with his neat polo shirts and pressed slacks weighed down with two cell phones in addition to walkie talkies and itineraries and extra packs of the reds only starbursts for when Sergio is being a pain in the ass) tells them the protocol, that they are in a very conservative area and there will be parents and children present and they need to watch their language, watch the way they behave. Risque is out the window for this show, save that for places like Vegas and New York and Los Angeles, he tells them. He knows the band knows these rules already, barely glances at them as he speaks but instead focuses on the singers, the ones who aren’t professionals and don’t know the rules of the road. Most everyone knows he’s talking to Sergio, that the star of the tour needs to be reigned in a bit more. He looks bored, like he could care less about the warning and Fernando notices the worry set in on Xabi’s face, the way his composed look cracks just slightly because he’s panicking, because Sergio is a god damn lot to worry about and everyone knows it.
The thing people forget about Sergio, what they forgot in that short amount of time spent with him in a house, is that he can be a true professional on stage. Up there with the stadium full of people there to see him, he is charming and gracious, says ‘oh my goodness’ in such an awestruck way when he sees the crowd for the first time. He’s all polite smiles and sweet words and Fernando thinks to himself if this was the way Sergio was on the show, he would have voted for him too. That boy next door ‘oh shucks’ sweetness combined with the way he looks and his voice was what drew everyone to him, what propelled him to stardom, of being the nation’s darling. It was easy to believe he was actually blown away by it all with that first view of the packed house, the way his face softens and his mouth drops open before curling up into one of the biggest smiles Fernando’s ever seen. It could have easily been an act, but something about the look made Fernando believe it wasn’t, that Sergio maybe wasn’t as bad as he came across.
--
The after parties were pretty lame until Vegas. Before then, they were mostly just radio show sponsored hangouts, a few lucky fans hanging around after the show with the singers while the band helped the roadies take apart the equipment, making sure all their instruments were put away with the utmost care. They would duck in and out of the room to say hello, but for the most part, they were quiet little affairs full of crying girls who just wanted to get close to Sergio. And he would be perfect, pose for as many pictures as they wanted, hug them when they asked, bashfully say no when they asked for kisses. He’d light up when Fernando would walk into the room, pull him in and tell the people around him that he was one of the most talented guitarists around and his laughter wasn’t at all malicious when Fernando would flush red and point out that no, that was Stevie. He’d actually let Fernando go without groping him and his stare wasn’t the usual kind, wasn’t undressing Fernando with his eyes.
Vegas was something else entirely. The show itself was ridiculous, two weeks into the twelve week long tour and they were already playing huge sold out arenas, already trying to outdo each show before it. The show itself had been pretty amazing, there was something about playing for a sold out crowd that made their energy perk up even more than normal. Sergio’s showmanship was somehow even more amazing, more untamed because of the fact that it was Las Vegas and there were no restrictions. He wasn’t the same boy he had been in Utah, the one amazed by the view in front of him, but he was a true rockstar, working the crowd like they were there to worship him, giving them a show they would remember. But the party, the party was the first true tour party. Rather than having the meet up with fans in a dressing room or stadium locker room like most of them had been, the sponsor had them out at a club, had the alcohol flowing freely.
They were up in VIP, the singers, the band, the few fans that had won the radio sponsored contests to get them up there. Everyone was mingling, Sara at one table with Iker and Cesc listening to Cesc tell some outlandish story about baby genius piano recitals, Stevie and Xabi huddled together in a corner discussing something seemingly serious. The other singers were moving from table to table, entertaining the fans that weren’t sitting with Sergio, or dancing with one another, grabbing drinks off the trays the wait staff was bringing around for them. Fernando was at a table with Raul, listening to him talk about his previous band experiences as they drank, trying desperately to ignore the fact that he could feel Sergio’s eyes burning into him.
“He’s still staring.” Raul points out after awhile, Fernando’s cheeks flushing darker than they had been with just the liquor flowing freely in his blood system.
“He’s always staring.” He hates admitting it, but he’s drunk enough to at this point, shrugging his shoulders and brushing his fingers through his hair as he sits back on the couch. “I can’t do anything about it.”
“You could, I think you just don’t want to. You like it.” Raul says it with a smile, knocks back another shot without letting it fade off his lips, his eyes returning to Fernando’s face once the glass is back on the table. Fernando’s too stunned to reply so Raul continues, like this is the most normal conversation in the world. “If you didn’t, you would just tell him to stop, tell Xabi or you know actually do something, but you just take it. You let him do it because you like it, you like the attention of someone like him chasing after you, because you’re the kind of person that doesn’t like to do the chasing. You’re not innocent in all this, Fernando, so don’t play it like you are.”
--
A few weeks in to the tour, one of the girls, Sara, touches Fernando during her set. She’s just singing, lost in having fun with the crowd and when she moves over to him, she wraps her arm around him, leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek and ruffle his hair, and they both laugh because it’s nothing. The crowd eats it up, because on the giant screen they’re just two grinning faces and they’re both attractive, the tall blond boy with the shorter brunette girl. They have chemistry because Fernando likes her, thinks she’s a sweet girl, but that’s where it ends. Everyone knows that and doesn’t tease them about it, because the girls all have their favorite band members to flirt with on stage and somehow everyone knows to keep away from Fernando.
Two days later, the band gets a notice that a new song is being added into Sergio’s set. It’s a simple song, Gary Glitter’s “Do You Wanna Touch Me” and Fernando is dreading it. It’s more risque than Sergio’s been doing, and Fernando knows the song, knows that as easy as it is to play that something bad is going to happen. The first time they rehearse it, Sergio’s eyes are predatory and on Fernando the entire time. He’s uncomfortable, but at least Sergio is keeping his distance, saving his showmanship for the show.
It’s added into the set a week after the incident, and Fernando feels the lump in his throat when Iker starts in on the drums. Sergio’s just selling it to the crowd, making the girls scream like it’s what he was born to do. Until the second verse at least, when he stalks over to the platform Fernando’s on, meeting his eyes. Fernando is scared by what he sees in the brown orbs, the want and the anger, how much he has to prove. He wants to back away but he can’t, he’s there to perform and he can take whatever Sergio wants to dish at him. What he doesn’t expect is the way the younger man presses against his side, the way he pushes his fingers roughly through Fernando’s hair as he sings beggin on my knees baby wont you please run your fingers through my hair. Fernando expects that to be it, not to be tugged by his long blond locks to the center of the stage. He doesn’t expect to be the center of attention, just keeps his eyes lowered on his guitar and lets Sergio put on the show for everyone, at least until he feels the hand creeping up under his shirt, warm on his bare sweating skin. He feels his gut lurch, he prays Sergio will stay there and not move, but it’s Sergio and his hand is moving down underneath his jeans, grabbing a handful of his ass and grinding against his leg and Fernando can’t help but miss a chord, look up at Sergio with wide eyes. The other boy’s eyes are wild, like a beast that caught it’s prey and is enjoying every second of it and Fernando can’t breathe, feels like he’s going to die under the spotlights. He’s flushed bright red and Sergio just squeezes again before letting him go, smacking his ass hard before going to the front of the stage to make the girls scream some more.
He moves back to his spot on the platform as fast as he can without looking mortified and refuses to look anyone in the eye for the rest of the night.
The move winds up on just about every entertainment medium possible, from TMZ to E! to the trashy tabloid shows Fernando’s mother watches on a nightly basis. She calls him screaming after she sees it, as if he wasn’t mortified enough everyone can hear his mother screaming at him for embarrassing their family like that and not even having the decency to warn her about his televised sexual escapades.
--
For the album cover, Sergio does a ton of different photo shoots. They’re not sure of the theme yet, so the themes of the shoots vary greatly. Fernando is pretty sure it’s all just because Sergio enjoys having his picture taken, being the center of attention. He’s good at it, and the band has been on set since early in the morning for some “live” shots where they just pretended to play their instruments until Iker actually started a beat and Raul started in on bass and Fernando had to start on guitar so it didn’t sound like they were playing the theme song to Fraggle Rock. Mostly they spend the day milling around and eating the food from craft services and watching the ridiculous things they were making Sergio do. It’s after midnight and most everyone has fallen asleep by this point, either on the couches in the green room or spread out on a block of folding chairs spread out around the set here and there. Fernando wants nothing more than to join the rest of the guys but Sergio has him acting like a personal assistant, bringing him water or coffee in between shots. He hates it, hates being treated like Sergio’s little bitch sometimes, but it keeps him happy and he’s been reminded over and over again from Pepe that it’s a steady gig, and at the moment Sergio’s still big enough to ruin his career if he speaks badly about him. It’s easily the worst job Fernando’s ever had, but at the same time, he never actually stops Sergio. It’s more than just his career, there’s something about him he genuinely likes, but he abuses his power over the older boy constantly.
It’s the final set of the night, the photographer promises and Sergio doesn’t look tired at all, in fact thrilled by everything. They have him stripped down by this point, nothing but a pair of jeans. He looks like Tarzan, almost like a feral boy with his long brown hair wild and loose, his eyes hungry on Fernando behind the camera. The animal handlers they’ve been working with all day bring out a snake, this huge albino python that makes Fernando think of that “slave 4 u” performance that he watched so many times it burned out the tape in his vcr. And where most people would be uncomfortable under the weight of the giant reptile, Sergio looks at home with it, like nothing in the world would bother him. He can see this being the album cover already, a jungle photoshopped in behind him, selling him as this sexually charged Tarzan fantasy that everyone will just eat up because he’s different than everyone else out now.
“Can we try something?” Sergio speaks up to the photographer, and the bald man lowers his camera, the look on his face saying ‘what the hell does this kid want now’. Fernando thinks he’s a dick, because Sergio’s done everything he’s asked all day with no complaints, but if he’s learned anything from the entertainment industry, it’s that people who are in a role that can talk down to you and treat you like shit always will do just that. “Can we just get Fernando in here for a few shots? I have this idea and I think it would look great.” All eyes are on Fernando now and he wants to die, wants to curl up in a hole and disappear forever because he thinks he knows what Sergio wants and he is terrified.
“I’m not a model...” he mumbles and the photographer scoffs because he had made it obvious that morning. Fernando had been the stiffest and most awkward looking of the entire band at least until they had started actually playing, so adding him in to this shot just seemed stupid. But the photographer just shakes his head, sighs out an “alright” and Fernando looks like a deer in headlights when he gets up off the folding chair he’s been sitting on for the better part of the night, goes towards where the instruments were to get his guitar.
“No, Fer, you don’t need that. Just you. And take your shirt off.” Sergio has this too well thought out and he’s immediately worried, eyes wide as he looks at the younger man. “Just trust me, okay?” He doesn’t but there’s no use fighting it, just pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it on the chair he’d been sitting on. His makeup is still on from earlier in the shoot, Sergio had cornered him while they were changing and told him not to take it off, that the black eyeliner made him look so sexy. Sergio reaches a hand out, as far as he can without jostling the heavy snake around his shoulders, and pulls Fernando in to him by his belt loops, moves the older man around so Fernando’s back is to the camera, just to the side of Sergio so he’s not entirely blocking the camera. He moves the snake so it’s shifting over both their shoulders, slithering it’s way down Fernando’s bare back. He tenses and Sergio’s hand moves to his hip, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle to soothe him.
“Baby...” he says it in such a way that Fernando has to look at him, swallowing the lump in his throat and just looks at Sergio, takes him in. In all his chasing, all his hunting and wearing down of Fernando, this look has always been behind everything each time he actually gets him to give in, soft and adoring. He’s always wanted him so much he’s just had to have him, and Fernando lets him do what he wants, lets Sergio think this is something like a real relationship and not Fernando just saving his career. The thing is, he knows he actually cares about Sergio, part of him actually enjoys the things he does and the way he treats him, he just feels abused by the whole thing, that Sergio is abusing his position of power over Fernando and making him resent him, making him not give the boy any real emotions when he does things like this. But with those eyes on him, the begging him to relax and just do it, just do this for him, Fernando breaks in his resolve just a little, relaxes his tense muscles and lets Sergio take charge as always. The snake doesn’t help him at all, but he hears the photographer’s begrudging noise of approval.
“Very Adam and Steve of you.” Fernando thinks he really hates the photographer and his muscles tense up again. Sergio feels him, moves his hand from his hip to his back, following his spine down to his dip and just resting his fingers there, fingertips threatening to slip down into his jeans. The last thing it should be is relaxing, but Fernando isn’t as tense when Sergio is touching him, kind of melts into it all because his fingers are warm and he doesn’t mean harm this time, just the best for Fernando, just wants him in every way possible.
--
They’re at some awards show where everything is basically meaningless. Sergio is picking up things left and right because it’s all voted for by teens - the same fanbase that voted him to win everything earlier in the year. They’re not even scandalized by the whole Fernando thing, when they’re up on stage opening the show, the roar of the teen girls is never louder than when Sergio gets close to him. It’s a bit of fanservice, Fernando thinks, that Sergio keeps touching him, keeps doing it on particularly dirty lyrics so they all know, that their little teen hearts burst at the idea of two attractive guys having sex with one another. He’s more embarrassed about it, cheeks flushed more with shame than from the heat of the lights. His mother still hasn’t forgiven him, won’t even let him get a word in edgewise around her lectures of how embarrassing it is to have her youngest child’s sexuality flaunted all around the world. He has a feeling she’ll only forgive him if he comes home and gets a real job and settles down with some nice girl and gives her grandchildren like his older brother, but the thought of settling, the thought of being anywhere but on a stage playing his guitar makes Fernando feel suffocated, like his heart will stop beating if he thinks too hard about that kind of life. So, for now, they’re at a stalemate, and Fernando has been more accepting of Sergio’s public affections, because he knows what she thinks and it doesn’t change things, his family will never really appreciate his artistic nature so why not dive right in to it. Acceptance doesn’t stop the immediate flush that comes over his cheeks whenever Sergio comes near him though, when his eyes are predatory like he is the wolf and Fernando is the rabbit and he’s about to be devoured. He fights his role less though, it’s less to keep his job and more because despite how intense Sergio is, he likes being around him. It might be that he likes being treated the way he is too, wanted and worshipped because Sergio worked so hard to get him, he wasn’t willing to let him go. It’s a little swell of ego, that of all the girls and boys that throw themselves at the younger man’s feet, willing to do anything for him, his eyes were always just on Fernando, forgetting the rest of the world existed when it was just the two of them. He feels bad sometimes that he’s not the same way, that he looks at girls and misses they way they feel, misses being the one in control of any sexual encounter, misses the soft skin and the way they taste. Sergio’s not the same, harder and stronger, more demanding of him than any girl before him.
They’re backstage, Sergio had dragged Fernando up with him to collect the last award, letting him stand in the background awkwardly, bowing his head so he was all blond hair hiding the flush in his cheeks, refusing to look up until Sergio grabbed at his hand to drag him backstage again. It was one of those times where he felt like a show piece, like Sergio just wanted to show him off, like this is my boyfriend and don’t you all want him even if he’s painfully shy and can’t talk into the microphones shoved into his face without looking like a deer caught in headlights. Mostly he just hides behind Sergio, trying not to look scared or embarrassed or miserable, lets the younger man soak in all the glory of the cameras and the praise from the celebrities milling around backstage. He keeps his gaze downcast, lets him talk to the people around him and it’s when he hears that voice he perks up. It sounds like pure sunshine, like angels singing in a church, and she’s laughing, the laugh that makes his stomach do flips and his throat dry up. He looks at her and he swears he can hear a hallelujah chorus, swears he can see this brilliant white light around her in her too short shiny dress and her hair finally done to not look like a shitty weave. He stares at her and he forgets how to speak, because she is so beautiful and he is so in love with her, has been for as long as he can remember.
Sergio opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, eyes on Fernando staring at the goddess he’s been talking to, but Fernando’s mouth is quicker.
“Marry me.” He blurts it out and she looks kind of shocked, like she doesn’t get this a billion times a day. Fernando knows he should stop, but his mouth is moving faster than the ABORT! ABORT! his brain is screaming at him. “I love you, I’ve loved you forever, we could be so good together, I’d be such a great dad, I promise, I’ll love your kids as much as I love you and I won’t stop you from having a career and I’ll follow you and do whatever you ask of me and love you until the end of time, just marry me, my name is Fernando and I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” It comes out in a rush and she looks ready to run away and Sergio is just staring at him like this might be the most adorable and hilarious that Fernando’s ever been. And everything he just said finally hits his brain, his brown eyes widening to match her’s, fear and embarrassment and he just wants to curl up in a hole and die. He doesn’t say anything, just takes off running through the winding halls of the backstage area before he finds the green room the band had holed up in before their performance, still holding all their gear and clothes. He grabs a bottle of water and slumps down against one of the walls, sinking down into a corner, his fingers pushing through his hair roughly. Sergio comes into the room and just starts laughing, and Fernando hates him until he sees Sergio crawling on the ground to sit in front of him, the sweet smile on his face.
“It wasn’t that bad, I think before you ran away she was considering your offer.” His hands are immediately on Fernando’s bringing them away from his face. Their eyes are locked and Sergio’s slowly bringing Fernando’s hands to his mouth, pressing soft kisses along his calloused fingers.
“I just proposed to Britney Spears and you’re not mad?” It’s kind of shocking, Sergio’s proven more than once to be the jealous type, that he’ll always do what it takes to stake his claim on Fernando. But he’s oddly calm, moving his lips over Fernando’s hand, kissing his palm, letting the older boy twist his hand to rest his fingers on his cut cheekbones, his lips moving down more to suck a slow kiss into the pulse point on his wrist. It might just be coming down from his panic attack, but Fernando feels like he’s actually seeing Sergio for the first time, seeing how stunningly beautiful he is. They sit in silence for a few seconds before Sergio speaks again, because Sergio knows Fernando is staring at him, knows something has changed behind the older boy’s eyes.
“You said so yourself, you’ve loved her forever. Believe it or not, I’m a patient man, Fernando. I can wait until you love me too.” Fernando’s stunned into silence and Sergio just smiles, leans over and kisses his lips lightly, brushing the mess of blond hair away from his face. “Stay here, I’m going to go do that stupid press room junk with this. You don’t have to come back out with me if you don’t want.” Sergio’s still giving him orders, but it feels like options and for the first time, Fernando objects. They stand together and Fernando can’t help but look at him, like he’s never seen him before, finally sees the wonderous creature that Sergio really is. Sergio lets him, because he knows that look, he’s been staring at Fernando like that since the first moment he laid eyes on him.
For the first time in the five months they’ve been together, Fernando kisses him without hesitation. He holds onto Sergio’s face and kisses him with a ferocity that’s been building for months, that it took a moment of clarity to realize. Maybe it’s just stockholm syndrome, finally falling in love with his captor, but he can’t stop, needs to keep kissing him so Sergio knows. And Sergio pushes the tacky surfboard award off the couch, pulls Fernando back with him, refusing to let him go, reveling in that in all that time he finally got what he wanted, that Fernando finally wants him. He doesn’t go back out, and they only break apart when Xabi sticks his head in the door to see what happened to Sergio, to tell him that everyone’s been trying to figure where he disappeared to since he picked up that last award.
“Making out with his boyfriend.” Fernando laughs and Sergio’s beaming like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. Xabi just rolls his eyes and closes the door, because the man knows something has changed and while maybe some of the band’s tension will be relieved, the two of them are going to be so annoying.
--
That night they talk. They’re alone on the balcony, sitting across from one another at the small table, inhaling the burgers Sergio had sent some poor assistant to In N Out to get. It’s kind of terrible but amazing at the same time, mostly just because of the company. They talk about the things they like, how neither of them really wanted to be famous, but Sergio loves attention and music and making people happy. They both light up when they talk about music, how deep their passion for it really runs and they list off their favorite artists, the ones they have in common. Sergio doesn’t get how Fernando can worship at the alter of Britney yet still be so into punk, while Fernando doesn’t entirely get Sergio’s whole hippie with a heart of gold style. Sergio prefers Elvis and Frank Sinatra, Fernando’s more into Johnny Cash and Dean Martin. They talk about classical music and Sergio’s eyes are twinkling when Fernando goes on about what it means to him, how he loves listening to it with his eyes closed because he can see the story, how he imagines something so fantastic and beautiful, whether it be a love story or an epic battle. They’re kindred spirits in this sense, artists that can get lost in the music and not the production of it all.