Fic: Your Heart is My Home 1/4
Title: Your Heart is My Home 1/4
Fandom: Football RPF
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Juan Mata
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5020
Disclaimer: These boys, and Leo and Nora, I sincerely wish.
Notes: Written for this prompt because I couldn't ignore how tenderly Juan is kissing Nora and that look in Nando's eyes as he looks at Juan. The amazing estrella on tumblr also has drew some cute fanart. Thanks to sparksfly7 or the emergency beta. I am looking for a more permanent beta, let me know in comments if you'd like to. I have a lot of feelings about this fic, it's pretty my Nando-to-Chelsea fix-it fic and my first foray into Juanando rolled into one.
Summary: Fernando Torres transfers to Chelsea with two kids and a lot of emotional baggage, good thing the club sends him a nanny that turns his life upside down.
On Fernando’s first official day with his new club, Nora decides that she doesn’t like mangoes anymore by throwing up all over her daddy. That is a signal for Leo to start wailing, despite a diaper change and a feeding barely thirty minutes ago. Fernando strips off the new shirt he put on for the occasion and debates which of his children to take care of first when the doorbell rings. For a brief moment, he thinks it’s his teammate’s wife Yolanda, coming by to pick up the kids before practice like usual. But the sound of Leo crying brings him back to the fact that he’s in London, not Liverpool and he’s all on his own here.
He opens the door to find a shorter man with the most welcoming smile Fernando’s seen since he’s been in London. Sure the club executives have welcomed him, and by his new manager as well, but it’s this man right here, with a scruffy beard and wide smile that is sincerely happy to see him.
Fernando asks confusedly, looking at the two suitcases being pulled “Can I help you?” He really hopes this guy is not a fan. It’ll be worrying how fast fans have tracked down his new address.
“Hi. I’m Juan Mata.” He beams and Fernando can see the bluest eyes ever, as blue as the sea when his parents took him to seaside vacations when he was young. Juan lets go of his luggage and stretches out his hand. “The club sent me, I’ll be your new nanny.”
Fernando frowns; he hasn’t heard anything about this from the club. As much as he appreciates that the club is looking out for him, he’s not sure how capable they are at choosing who looks after his children. This Juan fellow has all the right paperwork though, with a letter from the club explaining everything. It’s not asking for a lot, the club will be paying for it and all he has to do is supply room and board. Still, it’s asking for Fernando to trust his children with a stranger he knows nothing about.
Whatever reservations he has about the guy, the reality is that practice starts in twenty minutes and the drive to Cobham takes that long. And there’s the fact that he’s still half-naked with two unhappy children.
“Are you sure you can handle them?” he asks, the nanny doesn’t look too old himself.
“Don’t worry Mr. Torres, I’m sure Leo, Nora and I will get along just fine,” Juan reassures his new boss.
“Okay, you have my cell in case of problems?” Fernando does some last minute fretting. He regrets not taking his mother’s offer to live with him for a while, but he wants to show everyone that he’s okay, and that he will be on his own. “There’s a list of emergency numbers on the fridge. And I’m sorry about the mess.” He gestures to the table.
“Please don’t worry. I’m great with kids.” Juan says it like a worldly fact: the sky is blue, I will love your children.
“Okay. I’ll be back when practice ends in three hours.” He pulls on a random shirt, gives his kids a kiss (while making sure not to get any vomit on him) and leaves with one last look at Juan. “Nice to meet you, Juan.”
~
There’s something about stepping into Cobham for the first time in a blue shirt. Every part of Fernando’s body is screaming that it’s not Anfield, but he can’t bear to think about Liverpool anymore.
He knows most of the players, though know isn’t the best word. He’s played against them, scored against them, and even had a couple on-pitch spats. His last encounter with his new captain wasn’t under the most friendly of circumstances, so he hopes he’ll be professional. However, He doesn’t really know these players as people. He knows nothing about their dreams, loves and feelings. But maybe one day he will, and he hopes that he can fit in just as well as he did in red.
“Welcome.” John Terry extends a hand. “We’re glad to have you here.” The handshake is firm but without the tension of all the ones before. Fernando relaxes, he doesn't realize how stiff his shoulders were.
The rest of the players come and say hi to the new signing. They’re friendly, but don’t really push the boundaries, and he’s glad for that.
He walks towards his bench and there’s a shirt with 9 TORRES hanging there. He takes it and traces the curve of the number; it’s familiar, except it’s not. He slips it on anyways, and doesn’t look down to look at the foreign crest over his heart.
Things are different on the pitch; there’s no small talk and footwork speaks louder than words. They run drills and Fernando keeps up well with the team. He still knows how to work his way on a pitch, no matter who’s on his team.
“Torres, right, left and slip it to Ramires! Start over,” Di Matteo shouts.
This time Luiz forces him out wide. “Pass to Hazard, he was wide open!”
He does it again, and this time completes the pass. Ramires surprises him though, sending the ball back with a cheeky back-heel and he instinctly shoots. The ball arches over the fingers of Cech and goes in.
The whole team cheer and whistle, and then coo when his cheeks start burning. He scowls good-naturedly - some things never change.
Fernando is exhausted by the time practice ends. He is not used to the pace the manager drives them to go at; there is less downtime, less fooling around between the players. There’s no one to throw water at, and nobody jumps on his back for a piggy-back ride. That’s not really a bad thing, just different.
Robbie approaches him as he’s changing out of his training gear. “Settling in alright, Fernando?” he asks kindly.
He nods. “Yes. London is very nice.” Fernando’s words come out softly. It’s exactly what he had told the Chelsea press earlier, but he doesn’t have much to comment. London is nice, but if they asked if he liked it better than Liverpool, he wouldn’t have been able to lie.
“Just know, we’re all here for you.” That’s the thing he likes about Robbie; he is always so considerate, even though they’ve only talked a handful of times. “We are glad to have you here.”
“Thank you.” Fernando attempts a real smile and it must look okay because his manager ruffles his hair before going to speak to Cech.
It’s not until on the drive back when he realizes that he hasn’t thought about Olalla since he stepped onto that training pitch.
~
Fernando pulls into the driveway and but doesn’t get out yet. He tries to will away all the thoughts that emerged during the drive back. Those moments are the worst, when he’s by himself and there is nothing else to focus on. No matter how loud he cranks up the radio, it doesn’t drown out the screaming in his head and the memories flooding in.
It’s why he’s so happy to be training again, to be out on the pitch, to listen to the direction of the other players. He loves the sound of thousands of fans cheering, booing, whatever sounds they are making doesn’t matter, as long as they’re loud. That’s why he loves it when his kids are fussy, when they throw tantrums - it gives him something to focus on.
Fernando opens the door to his house and everything is silent. He sees that the kitchen has been cleaned up, and the dining table smells like ripe lemons. He goes upstairs to the nursery - they’re both sleeping soundly, Nora with a new blanket. Everything looks alright.
The door to the master bedroom is open and Fernando stills. There’s a painful pounding in his ribcage that turns out to be his heart trying to escape. His legs that are usually so agile have suddenly turned into lead with each step he takes into that room.
Fernando finds Juan kneeling on the floor, attaching foam corners on his bed frame.
“What are you doing?” He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out as a hiss.
Juan looks up, bewildered. “I’m baby-proofing your house.”
“Get out.” Fernando hauls the younger man up and towards the door. “Don’t ever come in here.” He pushes him out and slams the door, rattling the entire frame. Fernando slides down with his back against the door and puts his head between his knees. He’s close to hyperventilating and desperately tries to control his breathing. It’s especially difficult in this room.
After a while, he collects himself, and thinks about apologizing to the nanny. Then he hears the familiar sound of Leo crying. By the time he gets there, Juan has his son rocking in his arms, and a bottle is being heated up in the microwave.
“I think he’s a little hungry,” the younger man explains, not meeting his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Fernando waves his hand in the direction of upstairs, trying to convey what happened but not knowing how to explain. He doesn’t even know why he had such a strong reaction, he’s not a violent man and he would never ever hurt anyone else. It’s important that Juan knows that.
Juan is clearly surprised because he looks up. “No, it’s okay.” He murmurs as he continues to cradle Leo.
Fernando still feels so bad; Chelsea sent this guy to help him, and he’s already yelled at him for no good reason. “I just…don’t like going into that room.”
The microwave beeps and Juan checks the formula’s temperature before guiding it to Leo’s mouth. “You don’t have to explain,” he says quietly.
So Fernando doesn’t. Instead they work together to roast a chicken for dinner and give both kids a bath. Fernando helps Juan move into one of the guest rooms, the empty one beside his that’s only two doors down from the nursery. At night he says good night to Juan and his kids, and tries to sleep. He hears the other man rustling around for a bit, singing something softly and that’s his last memory awake.
That night he dreams of blue eyes melting into the blue skies above his new stadium.
~
Stevie calls him the week before the league starts. “How are you doing?” The warmth and affection comes through so clear in his voice.
Fernando chokes at the familiarity. “I miss you,” he admits. “I miss Liverpool so much.”
“I know. Everyone still asks about you. We miss you too.”
“It’s just so hard, Stevie. I’m sorry.” He wants to cry, because if there is one man that he can let his shield down around, it’s Stevie. His captain, his friend, his link to moments when everything was splendid. “I’m so sorry I left.”
“Oh Nando,” Stevie tries to soothe his ex-teammate. It was so much easier when they sat next to each other on the bench, 8 and 9, their lockers behind them. Now he all he can do is reach out through a phone line and hope for the best. “We don’t blame you at all. All the lads understood why you had to go.”
“I just wish…” he starts and stops; he’s stopped wishing months ago, when he realized all it did was get your hopes up and destroy it. “I wanted to stay.”
“Listen to me, Nando.” Stevie is using his captain voice; it doesn’t matter how far apart they are, or the fact they’re playing for different teams now. There’s power and belief in that voice that makes Fernando listen. “You needed to leave. Liverpool had nothing for you or your children anymore. Leaving was the best decision for you and your family.”
“If I tried harder…” Fernando says.
“No.” Stevie is firm. “Think of your children, they couldn’t stay.”
“Nora still asks when she’s coming back.” His voice cracks. “Leo knows something is wrong because he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do” he admits.
“They’re young, and they will move on with time,” Stevie tells him. “And right now it may seem impossible, but you will too. The pain will fade, but not if you stayed here.”
Fernando knows his friend is right, but it’s difficult to feel that way. The hurt is too raw, and he sees her in the corner of his eyes everyday.
“One day you may even love again,” Stevie reminds Fernando gently.
He knows the older man can’t see, but he shakes his head anyway. “My love left me in Liverpool.”
~
It’s Fernando’s first game for Chelsea, and his nerves aren’t helping. He hasn’t played in a while, well not really played since the accident. The last couple of weeks at Liverpool were difficult to say the least; he didn’t score and nobody seemed to mind. He’s not sure which is worse.
He’s a striker (and one of the best in the league, his mind helpfully supplies). He’s supposed to be terrorizing the defense, not cowering in the tunnel wondering if his feet still know how to kick a ball. Those same legs feel stiff, and he can feel the shin guards dig into his leg even though he’s adjusted them a dozen times. The shirt is itchy, the sleeves are too long and he fiddles with the extra length. Most of all, the color is blue and he doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror.
They line up in the tunnel and Fernando thinks he might throw up. Players on the other team shoot pitying looks at him and he hates it. There was a time when they would chat good-naturedly and they would look at him with respect, now’s it’s all oh look lets console Torres since he lost his wife and his scoring touch.
Fernando wants a lot of things, but that doesn’t include their sympathy. He wants his family back and he wants to wipe those understanding looks off their face. He tries his best to fulfill the latter.
It’s a tough game. He runs hard, trying to turn all the pressure and insecurities into energy chasing after the ball. The whole team pushes for the ninety minutes, but there’s just something off in their understanding. Fernando gets it, it’s a new team and all, but he really just wants to score. He wants something different.
It takes a lucky header from one of the defenders almost in injury time for Chelsea to get their goal. As Fernando trudges off the pitch to the roar of Stamford Bridge, he isn’t quite sure what he signed away for.
“Good game lads,” Robbie says in the dressing room, his eyes sweeping the dressing room.
His teammates cheer and start grouping together for locker room pictures, but Fernando focuses on changing out of his kit. He’s happy that they won; he just wishes that he could’ve done better. He wishes he could’ve scored.
“Hey, Fer.” Luiz comes to pat him on the back. “I can call you that, right?” the grin in the Brazilian’s is as ridiculous as his hair.
“Yes.” He nods.
“Come out with us, and have a drink.” He slings his arms around the taller man, and Fernando gets a face full of curly hair. “It’ll be fun, and you can get to know the team a bit better.” David’s smile is full of hope and good intentions; it reminds him of Nora when she’s excited about something and he finds himself agreeing.
Going out with team after game. Will be a bit late. Okay? he texts Juan. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but by now he has zero qualms about leaving the kids with the younger man.
Nora wants you to have fun! :):):)
Fernando allows himself a small smile and joins his new teammates.
They go to some posh bar and the captain buys everyone a round. A couple more drinks later, Fernando’s more relaxed and actually enjoying just hanging out. Petr and Mikel have a wicked sense of humor and are determined to integrate him into the group. Rami drags a stool to the middle of the room.
“Time for the Chelsea tradition.” There’s a twinkle in Rami’s eyes, the same kind right before he trips you in practice.
Everyone starts yelling and catcalling and whistling. Fernando is suddenly a little apprehensive. He still remembers what Stevie made him do for Liverpool’s initiation. His cheeks flare red-hot and he doesn’t even know what these Chelsea boys have planned yet.
“Come on, you have to sing us a song.” Frank is laughing and pushing him towards the stool.
He deflates a little bit; that’s actually not so bad.
“While giving us a strip tease,” Drogba adds in.
“Strip tease?” His eyes open wide and he’s sure his freckles are ready to jump off his skin.
“Don’t worry. It won’t go on the internet or anything,” Brana tries to reassure him, but it’s anything but reassuring.
He reluctantly agrees to Call me, maybe and as the upbeat pop comes on he starts mouthing along, singing the few words he knows.
“Start stripping!” comes the calls.
Fernando takes a deep breath. He can do this. How many times has his old team fooled around like this? How many times has he seen Sergio do this during national team call ups? He tilts his head back up and fumbles with the first button of his shirt. There are whistles by the time he works his shirt off and the alcohol must be kicking in because by the time he gets to his pants, he’s leisurely sliding them down like a professional. The song ends and Fernando’s only left in his boxers and a visible flush that runs through his entire body.
Everyone is laughing good-naturedly and Fernando’s in his boxers in the middle of a bunch of guys in a random bar. It’s so ridiculous but it’s football, so he joins in. Kalou gets him another drink and he clinks bottles with his teammates. His teammates. He thinks he can get used to that.
~
Fernando and Juan end up developing a good system. Juan gets up early to make breakfast. He heats up formula for Leo and uses the food processor to mush up fruit for Nora. By the time Fernando comes down, all he has to do is feed them quickly and then he’s out the door for training.
Leo sleeps through most of the day, but when he’s awake he likes to crawl around in his playpen by the couch. He has a slightly different cry for when he needs a diaper changed or when he’s hungry. And he whines unhappily when he just wants to be picked up. Juan likes to think he understands the little guy most of the time.
He has more trouble with Nora. First, she has to be the most aware three-year-old he’s ever met. She knows exactly when Juan is just trying to placate her, like when she asks for ice cream for breakfast and he says no and offers mango puree instead. He waits for her to stop pouting, because you can’t always give in to kids, no matter how cute they are. Second, she’s also the saddest three-year-old he knows. This is a little harder to deal with because he can’t do anything about the source of her sadness. Plus, when Nora is sad, so is her daddy and that’s another whole story right there.
Fernando and him usually make dinner together. It’s always something simple, like pasta or roast chicken since both of them aren’t well versed in the kitchen. They they sit and eat at the dinning room table, like the semblance of a real family. Some days Nora doesn’t like the color orange and dumps all her carrots on Juan’s plate. Her daddy frowns but doesn’t say anything, so Juan eats them anyways.
He loads the dishwasher while Fernando wipes down the table. “You okay here?” he asks.
“Yeah. Thanks.” The older man is always incredibly grateful.
Juan heads upstairs into his room. Fernando spends the evenings alone with his kids, usually cuddling them on the couch. Some days he takes out the double stroller and goes for a walk in the park, but only when it’s dark outside. He feels like already away too much, with weekend matches and Champions League fixtures in other countries. Some nights he wakes up in a strange hotel bed, wanting to cuddle Leo and Nora but he just can’t. When Nora calls him before a game and says I miss you daddy he wants to drop everything and kiss her.
Fernando is grateful that Juan takes such great care of them, but sometimes he just wants them all to himself. He knows it’s impossible, but he hugs them enough for two, and prays he can love them enough for two as well.
~
“But it’s Halloween, Daddy!”
Fernando looks at his daughter’s devastated face and crumbles. Nora isn’t crying yet, but judging by the way her eyes are filling up, it’s just a matter of time. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he picks her up and whispers into her hair.
“I want to go trick or treating.” She’s sniffling and he feels his shirt getting damp.
“You will,” he promises and traces little circles on her back. “Juan will take you.”
“With you.” Nora isn’t calming down though. “I want to go trick or treat with you Daddy!”
“I want to go with you too,” Fernando says and stops. How do you explain to your child that you need to play a football match rather than taking her door to door for candy on Halloween? It’s not even a matter of choice; if he had to choose, he’d pick his daughter any day, but despite how little he values a league cup fixture, he still has to play.
“But do you remember how Daddy has to go to work?” She gives a tearful nod. “Daddy would love to not go to work, but there are thousands of people watching and they would all notice.”
“But you’re mine, Daddy.” Nora doesn’t understand it; last year she was Tinkerbell and mommy and daddy were Wendy and Peter. But this year she doesn’t have anyone.
“I’m yours. Always yours.” He kisses his daughter on the cheek and just holds her close, trying to absorb all her upset tears and negative energy.
This year Nora wants to be a kitty witch. Fernando’s not too sure what that is, but Juan does. Sometimes it’s like Juan and the kids are on some magical wavelength that the striker just can’t seem to tune into.
Juan ends up making Nora’s entire outfit by hand. He sews little kitty ears onto a witch’s hat and makes her a cape to twirl in. For Fernando’s benefit, they start getting ready during the day so he can help. Nora’s face is painted green, with black whiskers and dark eyes. She’s delighted with her costume, and the tail sewn onto her pants bounces up and down as she jumps around.
“Meow, daddy. I’ll cast a spell so you can take me next year.” She waves around a plastic staff.
Fernando smiles at his daughter wistfully. “Next year, darling.”
Juan comes down in his costume, dressed as a sorcerer to match Nora. “You ready to get some candy?”
“Yeah!” She waves her arms around, sadness momentarily forgotten at the thought of candy.
“Did you show your daddy your song if they ask you for a trick?”
She scrunches her nose. “No.”
“How about you sing it for daddy.” Juan gives her an encouraging smile.
With that, Nora does a perfect rendition of “I’m a little teapot”, with some extra meows thrown in. Fernando laughs and it hurts a bit. He hasn’t seen his daughter this outgoing since Olalla passed, and it’s all because of Juan. Little Juan who spent hours making his daughter’s costume and drawing away all her sadness from how her dad can’t take her trick or treating. He’s suddenly so grateful for this man in his life and his children’s lives and he can’t imagine what he would’ve done without him.
~
England plays Spain for a friendly, and the next day Sergio Ramos shows up at his door. Fernando’s surprise quickly melts into joy at seeing his best friend.
“I’m so glad to see you,” he mumbles, his face squished into the defender’s neck. If there were paparazzi outside his house, they could’ve gotten some incredibly discriminating shots.
“Me too Nando.” Sergio runs his hands up and down Fernando’s back, soothing him as much as possible. “We all did.”
“Missed me, or my goals?” he tries to joke.
“Well, we didn’t score, so I guess just the goals.” He sees the striker frown. “Oh no, it wasn’t your fault; the whole team was just a mess that game.”
“Still,” he demurs, “I wish I could’ve been there.”
“Where are Nora and Leo?” Sergio tries to change the subject, he’s here to cheer his friend up, not to make him despair even more.
Fernando’s smile comes back at the mention of his kids. “Leo’s sleeping, and Juan took Nora and the dogs out for a walk.”
“Juan?”
“The nanny that Chelsea sent me. He’s Spanish too, so my kids won’t forget their language.” He explains.
“A guy?” Sergio laughs. “The club sent you a manny!”
“I guess they did.” Fernando has never thought about Juan’s gender. He’s always been Juan, the guy who’s amazing with his children. “But he’s just so good with them,” he gushes. “You should see the way he plays with them. They love him a lot.”
“Oh wow.” Sergio is surprised, because his friend is unusually vocal in his admiration. “He passed Nora’s test of acceptance?” He remembers how long it took him to befriend Nora, it was a whole Eurocup campaign before she would let him pick her up.
“Yeah. And Leo always stops crying when Juan picks him up.”
“It’s like you hired a baby whisperer.”
“I’m just glad that the kids have someone who adores them when I’m not there. It’s been really hard for them.” Fernando’s voice tapers off, he thinks about Leo and Nora right after the accident. He’s so glad they’re happier now, and maybe one day he will be too.
“I’m here for you, even all the way in Madrid.” Sergio grabs his friend and just holds him tight. “We’re all here for you. All of Spain is here for you,” he whispers fiercely and hopes Fernando understands.
~
“What kind of juice do you want?” Juan slides opens the fridge display. It’s one of the most profound differences when he came to England, how much choice there is in the grocery store. Like how there are over a dozen milk options, whereas Spain just had whole milk.
“Orange is fine.” Fernando squints at the display.
“Pulp or no pulp?”
“Pulp.”
“Really?” Juan scrunches up his nose. “But there’s nasty bits in your juice.”
“Pulps makes it taste more like actual oranges you know?” Fernando grins. “If you squeezed real oranges, you’d get pulp.”
Juan is not convinced and grabs a carton of grapefruit juice for himself. “We need more eggs too,” he remarks, while pushing the shopping cart along. Leo makes grabby hands from his seat on the cart, so Juan tickles him until he’s giggling.
“Daddy, can we buy a cake?” Nora looks imploringly at her daddy, and he’s never been able to deny her anything, especially with her mother’s eyes widened like that.
“Just a small one, honey.” It’s just a cake, it’s not like he’s buying her a pony, though he certainly has the money if she decides she wants one.
“That one.” She smacks her tiny hand on the glass at the pastry counter towards a chocolate one shaped like a heart and tied with a large red ribbon.
“It’s okay to say no, you know,” Juan murmurs in a low voice while the cake is being wrapped up.
“I know I’m spoiling her,” Fernando sighs. “But she’s had so much taken away; it’s difficult to deny her anything else.” He tries to explain to Juan, he’s not sure why he feels like he needs Juan’s approval.
“Just you wait until she starts bringing guys home,” the younger man teases.
“That’ll be a long way from now,” he comments fondly, looking at his daughter flouncing between the aisles.
Fernando is having a hard time perusing the cereal section; everything contains so much sugar. There was something with almonds that Olalla always picked out, but none of these packaging looks familiar.
“You should go for Greek yogurt and oatmeal instead,” Juan suggests. “Lots of fat-free protein and slow release carbs, won’t weigh you down on the pitch.”
“Oh.” Fernando is amazed at how Juan just understands him, just from how he’s standing before the array of cereals. He feels like one of his kids. “Thanks.”
“Let’s grab those and go home? I think Leo needs a diaper change.” Juan pushes their full cart to the dairy section while Fernando swings Nora around in his arms.
They pass by another couple who stiffens and glares at them. “Your family is unnatural,” the woman hisses when they push their trolley past.
Fernando stiffens and pulls Nora closer to him. He knows what the woman is implying, and even though it’s not true, he feels the need to defend himself and his family.
“Hey.” Juan touches him gently and Fernando pulls closer to the other man. Juan’s eyes are icy as he herds Fernando and the children by without another word.
“Those people,” Fernando spits out. “They make me so angry.”
Juan shrugs. “People who assume are usually wrong.”
“That’s not it.” He shakes his head, scattering blonde hair in his face. “This family, it’s perfect the way it is.”
“Of course it is.”
“I mean with you too.” Fernando looks his nanny in the eyes. “You’re part of the family now.”
Part 2
Fandom: Football RPF
Pairing: Fernando Torres/Juan Mata
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5020
Disclaimer: These boys, and Leo and Nora, I sincerely wish.
Notes: Written for this prompt because I couldn't ignore how tenderly Juan is kissing Nora and that look in Nando's eyes as he looks at Juan. The amazing estrella on tumblr also has drew some cute fanart. Thanks to sparksfly7 or the emergency beta. I am looking for a more permanent beta, let me know in comments if you'd like to. I have a lot of feelings about this fic, it's pretty my Nando-to-Chelsea fix-it fic and my first foray into Juanando rolled into one.
Summary: Fernando Torres transfers to Chelsea with two kids and a lot of emotional baggage, good thing the club sends him a nanny that turns his life upside down.
On Fernando’s first official day with his new club, Nora decides that she doesn’t like mangoes anymore by throwing up all over her daddy. That is a signal for Leo to start wailing, despite a diaper change and a feeding barely thirty minutes ago. Fernando strips off the new shirt he put on for the occasion and debates which of his children to take care of first when the doorbell rings. For a brief moment, he thinks it’s his teammate’s wife Yolanda, coming by to pick up the kids before practice like usual. But the sound of Leo crying brings him back to the fact that he’s in London, not Liverpool and he’s all on his own here.
He opens the door to find a shorter man with the most welcoming smile Fernando’s seen since he’s been in London. Sure the club executives have welcomed him, and by his new manager as well, but it’s this man right here, with a scruffy beard and wide smile that is sincerely happy to see him.
Fernando asks confusedly, looking at the two suitcases being pulled “Can I help you?” He really hopes this guy is not a fan. It’ll be worrying how fast fans have tracked down his new address.
“Hi. I’m Juan Mata.” He beams and Fernando can see the bluest eyes ever, as blue as the sea when his parents took him to seaside vacations when he was young. Juan lets go of his luggage and stretches out his hand. “The club sent me, I’ll be your new nanny.”
Fernando frowns; he hasn’t heard anything about this from the club. As much as he appreciates that the club is looking out for him, he’s not sure how capable they are at choosing who looks after his children. This Juan fellow has all the right paperwork though, with a letter from the club explaining everything. It’s not asking for a lot, the club will be paying for it and all he has to do is supply room and board. Still, it’s asking for Fernando to trust his children with a stranger he knows nothing about.
Whatever reservations he has about the guy, the reality is that practice starts in twenty minutes and the drive to Cobham takes that long. And there’s the fact that he’s still half-naked with two unhappy children.
“Are you sure you can handle them?” he asks, the nanny doesn’t look too old himself.
“Don’t worry Mr. Torres, I’m sure Leo, Nora and I will get along just fine,” Juan reassures his new boss.
“Okay, you have my cell in case of problems?” Fernando does some last minute fretting. He regrets not taking his mother’s offer to live with him for a while, but he wants to show everyone that he’s okay, and that he will be on his own. “There’s a list of emergency numbers on the fridge. And I’m sorry about the mess.” He gestures to the table.
“Please don’t worry. I’m great with kids.” Juan says it like a worldly fact: the sky is blue, I will love your children.
“Okay. I’ll be back when practice ends in three hours.” He pulls on a random shirt, gives his kids a kiss (while making sure not to get any vomit on him) and leaves with one last look at Juan. “Nice to meet you, Juan.”
~
There’s something about stepping into Cobham for the first time in a blue shirt. Every part of Fernando’s body is screaming that it’s not Anfield, but he can’t bear to think about Liverpool anymore.
He knows most of the players, though know isn’t the best word. He’s played against them, scored against them, and even had a couple on-pitch spats. His last encounter with his new captain wasn’t under the most friendly of circumstances, so he hopes he’ll be professional. However, He doesn’t really know these players as people. He knows nothing about their dreams, loves and feelings. But maybe one day he will, and he hopes that he can fit in just as well as he did in red.
“Welcome.” John Terry extends a hand. “We’re glad to have you here.” The handshake is firm but without the tension of all the ones before. Fernando relaxes, he doesn't realize how stiff his shoulders were.
The rest of the players come and say hi to the new signing. They’re friendly, but don’t really push the boundaries, and he’s glad for that.
He walks towards his bench and there’s a shirt with 9 TORRES hanging there. He takes it and traces the curve of the number; it’s familiar, except it’s not. He slips it on anyways, and doesn’t look down to look at the foreign crest over his heart.
Things are different on the pitch; there’s no small talk and footwork speaks louder than words. They run drills and Fernando keeps up well with the team. He still knows how to work his way on a pitch, no matter who’s on his team.
“Torres, right, left and slip it to Ramires! Start over,” Di Matteo shouts.
This time Luiz forces him out wide. “Pass to Hazard, he was wide open!”
He does it again, and this time completes the pass. Ramires surprises him though, sending the ball back with a cheeky back-heel and he instinctly shoots. The ball arches over the fingers of Cech and goes in.
The whole team cheer and whistle, and then coo when his cheeks start burning. He scowls good-naturedly - some things never change.
Fernando is exhausted by the time practice ends. He is not used to the pace the manager drives them to go at; there is less downtime, less fooling around between the players. There’s no one to throw water at, and nobody jumps on his back for a piggy-back ride. That’s not really a bad thing, just different.
Robbie approaches him as he’s changing out of his training gear. “Settling in alright, Fernando?” he asks kindly.
He nods. “Yes. London is very nice.” Fernando’s words come out softly. It’s exactly what he had told the Chelsea press earlier, but he doesn’t have much to comment. London is nice, but if they asked if he liked it better than Liverpool, he wouldn’t have been able to lie.
“Just know, we’re all here for you.” That’s the thing he likes about Robbie; he is always so considerate, even though they’ve only talked a handful of times. “We are glad to have you here.”
“Thank you.” Fernando attempts a real smile and it must look okay because his manager ruffles his hair before going to speak to Cech.
It’s not until on the drive back when he realizes that he hasn’t thought about Olalla since he stepped onto that training pitch.
~
Fernando pulls into the driveway and but doesn’t get out yet. He tries to will away all the thoughts that emerged during the drive back. Those moments are the worst, when he’s by himself and there is nothing else to focus on. No matter how loud he cranks up the radio, it doesn’t drown out the screaming in his head and the memories flooding in.
It’s why he’s so happy to be training again, to be out on the pitch, to listen to the direction of the other players. He loves the sound of thousands of fans cheering, booing, whatever sounds they are making doesn’t matter, as long as they’re loud. That’s why he loves it when his kids are fussy, when they throw tantrums - it gives him something to focus on.
Fernando opens the door to his house and everything is silent. He sees that the kitchen has been cleaned up, and the dining table smells like ripe lemons. He goes upstairs to the nursery - they’re both sleeping soundly, Nora with a new blanket. Everything looks alright.
The door to the master bedroom is open and Fernando stills. There’s a painful pounding in his ribcage that turns out to be his heart trying to escape. His legs that are usually so agile have suddenly turned into lead with each step he takes into that room.
Fernando finds Juan kneeling on the floor, attaching foam corners on his bed frame.
“What are you doing?” He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out as a hiss.
Juan looks up, bewildered. “I’m baby-proofing your house.”
“Get out.” Fernando hauls the younger man up and towards the door. “Don’t ever come in here.” He pushes him out and slams the door, rattling the entire frame. Fernando slides down with his back against the door and puts his head between his knees. He’s close to hyperventilating and desperately tries to control his breathing. It’s especially difficult in this room.
After a while, he collects himself, and thinks about apologizing to the nanny. Then he hears the familiar sound of Leo crying. By the time he gets there, Juan has his son rocking in his arms, and a bottle is being heated up in the microwave.
“I think he’s a little hungry,” the younger man explains, not meeting his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Fernando waves his hand in the direction of upstairs, trying to convey what happened but not knowing how to explain. He doesn’t even know why he had such a strong reaction, he’s not a violent man and he would never ever hurt anyone else. It’s important that Juan knows that.
Juan is clearly surprised because he looks up. “No, it’s okay.” He murmurs as he continues to cradle Leo.
Fernando still feels so bad; Chelsea sent this guy to help him, and he’s already yelled at him for no good reason. “I just…don’t like going into that room.”
The microwave beeps and Juan checks the formula’s temperature before guiding it to Leo’s mouth. “You don’t have to explain,” he says quietly.
So Fernando doesn’t. Instead they work together to roast a chicken for dinner and give both kids a bath. Fernando helps Juan move into one of the guest rooms, the empty one beside his that’s only two doors down from the nursery. At night he says good night to Juan and his kids, and tries to sleep. He hears the other man rustling around for a bit, singing something softly and that’s his last memory awake.
That night he dreams of blue eyes melting into the blue skies above his new stadium.
~
Stevie calls him the week before the league starts. “How are you doing?” The warmth and affection comes through so clear in his voice.
Fernando chokes at the familiarity. “I miss you,” he admits. “I miss Liverpool so much.”
“I know. Everyone still asks about you. We miss you too.”
“It’s just so hard, Stevie. I’m sorry.” He wants to cry, because if there is one man that he can let his shield down around, it’s Stevie. His captain, his friend, his link to moments when everything was splendid. “I’m so sorry I left.”
“Oh Nando,” Stevie tries to soothe his ex-teammate. It was so much easier when they sat next to each other on the bench, 8 and 9, their lockers behind them. Now he all he can do is reach out through a phone line and hope for the best. “We don’t blame you at all. All the lads understood why you had to go.”
“I just wish…” he starts and stops; he’s stopped wishing months ago, when he realized all it did was get your hopes up and destroy it. “I wanted to stay.”
“Listen to me, Nando.” Stevie is using his captain voice; it doesn’t matter how far apart they are, or the fact they’re playing for different teams now. There’s power and belief in that voice that makes Fernando listen. “You needed to leave. Liverpool had nothing for you or your children anymore. Leaving was the best decision for you and your family.”
“If I tried harder…” Fernando says.
“No.” Stevie is firm. “Think of your children, they couldn’t stay.”
“Nora still asks when she’s coming back.” His voice cracks. “Leo knows something is wrong because he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do” he admits.
“They’re young, and they will move on with time,” Stevie tells him. “And right now it may seem impossible, but you will too. The pain will fade, but not if you stayed here.”
Fernando knows his friend is right, but it’s difficult to feel that way. The hurt is too raw, and he sees her in the corner of his eyes everyday.
“One day you may even love again,” Stevie reminds Fernando gently.
He knows the older man can’t see, but he shakes his head anyway. “My love left me in Liverpool.”
~
It’s Fernando’s first game for Chelsea, and his nerves aren’t helping. He hasn’t played in a while, well not really played since the accident. The last couple of weeks at Liverpool were difficult to say the least; he didn’t score and nobody seemed to mind. He’s not sure which is worse.
He’s a striker (and one of the best in the league, his mind helpfully supplies). He’s supposed to be terrorizing the defense, not cowering in the tunnel wondering if his feet still know how to kick a ball. Those same legs feel stiff, and he can feel the shin guards dig into his leg even though he’s adjusted them a dozen times. The shirt is itchy, the sleeves are too long and he fiddles with the extra length. Most of all, the color is blue and he doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror.
They line up in the tunnel and Fernando thinks he might throw up. Players on the other team shoot pitying looks at him and he hates it. There was a time when they would chat good-naturedly and they would look at him with respect, now’s it’s all oh look lets console Torres since he lost his wife and his scoring touch.
Fernando wants a lot of things, but that doesn’t include their sympathy. He wants his family back and he wants to wipe those understanding looks off their face. He tries his best to fulfill the latter.
It’s a tough game. He runs hard, trying to turn all the pressure and insecurities into energy chasing after the ball. The whole team pushes for the ninety minutes, but there’s just something off in their understanding. Fernando gets it, it’s a new team and all, but he really just wants to score. He wants something different.
It takes a lucky header from one of the defenders almost in injury time for Chelsea to get their goal. As Fernando trudges off the pitch to the roar of Stamford Bridge, he isn’t quite sure what he signed away for.
“Good game lads,” Robbie says in the dressing room, his eyes sweeping the dressing room.
His teammates cheer and start grouping together for locker room pictures, but Fernando focuses on changing out of his kit. He’s happy that they won; he just wishes that he could’ve done better. He wishes he could’ve scored.
“Hey, Fer.” Luiz comes to pat him on the back. “I can call you that, right?” the grin in the Brazilian’s is as ridiculous as his hair.
“Yes.” He nods.
“Come out with us, and have a drink.” He slings his arms around the taller man, and Fernando gets a face full of curly hair. “It’ll be fun, and you can get to know the team a bit better.” David’s smile is full of hope and good intentions; it reminds him of Nora when she’s excited about something and he finds himself agreeing.
Going out with team after game. Will be a bit late. Okay? he texts Juan. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but by now he has zero qualms about leaving the kids with the younger man.
Nora wants you to have fun! :):):)
Fernando allows himself a small smile and joins his new teammates.
They go to some posh bar and the captain buys everyone a round. A couple more drinks later, Fernando’s more relaxed and actually enjoying just hanging out. Petr and Mikel have a wicked sense of humor and are determined to integrate him into the group. Rami drags a stool to the middle of the room.
“Time for the Chelsea tradition.” There’s a twinkle in Rami’s eyes, the same kind right before he trips you in practice.
Everyone starts yelling and catcalling and whistling. Fernando is suddenly a little apprehensive. He still remembers what Stevie made him do for Liverpool’s initiation. His cheeks flare red-hot and he doesn’t even know what these Chelsea boys have planned yet.
“Come on, you have to sing us a song.” Frank is laughing and pushing him towards the stool.
He deflates a little bit; that’s actually not so bad.
“While giving us a strip tease,” Drogba adds in.
“Strip tease?” His eyes open wide and he’s sure his freckles are ready to jump off his skin.
“Don’t worry. It won’t go on the internet or anything,” Brana tries to reassure him, but it’s anything but reassuring.
He reluctantly agrees to Call me, maybe and as the upbeat pop comes on he starts mouthing along, singing the few words he knows.
“Start stripping!” comes the calls.
Fernando takes a deep breath. He can do this. How many times has his old team fooled around like this? How many times has he seen Sergio do this during national team call ups? He tilts his head back up and fumbles with the first button of his shirt. There are whistles by the time he works his shirt off and the alcohol must be kicking in because by the time he gets to his pants, he’s leisurely sliding them down like a professional. The song ends and Fernando’s only left in his boxers and a visible flush that runs through his entire body.
Everyone is laughing good-naturedly and Fernando’s in his boxers in the middle of a bunch of guys in a random bar. It’s so ridiculous but it’s football, so he joins in. Kalou gets him another drink and he clinks bottles with his teammates. His teammates. He thinks he can get used to that.
~
Fernando and Juan end up developing a good system. Juan gets up early to make breakfast. He heats up formula for Leo and uses the food processor to mush up fruit for Nora. By the time Fernando comes down, all he has to do is feed them quickly and then he’s out the door for training.
Leo sleeps through most of the day, but when he’s awake he likes to crawl around in his playpen by the couch. He has a slightly different cry for when he needs a diaper changed or when he’s hungry. And he whines unhappily when he just wants to be picked up. Juan likes to think he understands the little guy most of the time.
He has more trouble with Nora. First, she has to be the most aware three-year-old he’s ever met. She knows exactly when Juan is just trying to placate her, like when she asks for ice cream for breakfast and he says no and offers mango puree instead. He waits for her to stop pouting, because you can’t always give in to kids, no matter how cute they are. Second, she’s also the saddest three-year-old he knows. This is a little harder to deal with because he can’t do anything about the source of her sadness. Plus, when Nora is sad, so is her daddy and that’s another whole story right there.
Fernando and him usually make dinner together. It’s always something simple, like pasta or roast chicken since both of them aren’t well versed in the kitchen. They they sit and eat at the dinning room table, like the semblance of a real family. Some days Nora doesn’t like the color orange and dumps all her carrots on Juan’s plate. Her daddy frowns but doesn’t say anything, so Juan eats them anyways.
He loads the dishwasher while Fernando wipes down the table. “You okay here?” he asks.
“Yeah. Thanks.” The older man is always incredibly grateful.
Juan heads upstairs into his room. Fernando spends the evenings alone with his kids, usually cuddling them on the couch. Some days he takes out the double stroller and goes for a walk in the park, but only when it’s dark outside. He feels like already away too much, with weekend matches and Champions League fixtures in other countries. Some nights he wakes up in a strange hotel bed, wanting to cuddle Leo and Nora but he just can’t. When Nora calls him before a game and says I miss you daddy he wants to drop everything and kiss her.
Fernando is grateful that Juan takes such great care of them, but sometimes he just wants them all to himself. He knows it’s impossible, but he hugs them enough for two, and prays he can love them enough for two as well.
~
“But it’s Halloween, Daddy!”
Fernando looks at his daughter’s devastated face and crumbles. Nora isn’t crying yet, but judging by the way her eyes are filling up, it’s just a matter of time. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he picks her up and whispers into her hair.
“I want to go trick or treating.” She’s sniffling and he feels his shirt getting damp.
“You will,” he promises and traces little circles on her back. “Juan will take you.”
“With you.” Nora isn’t calming down though. “I want to go trick or treat with you Daddy!”
“I want to go with you too,” Fernando says and stops. How do you explain to your child that you need to play a football match rather than taking her door to door for candy on Halloween? It’s not even a matter of choice; if he had to choose, he’d pick his daughter any day, but despite how little he values a league cup fixture, he still has to play.
“But do you remember how Daddy has to go to work?” She gives a tearful nod. “Daddy would love to not go to work, but there are thousands of people watching and they would all notice.”
“But you’re mine, Daddy.” Nora doesn’t understand it; last year she was Tinkerbell and mommy and daddy were Wendy and Peter. But this year she doesn’t have anyone.
“I’m yours. Always yours.” He kisses his daughter on the cheek and just holds her close, trying to absorb all her upset tears and negative energy.
This year Nora wants to be a kitty witch. Fernando’s not too sure what that is, but Juan does. Sometimes it’s like Juan and the kids are on some magical wavelength that the striker just can’t seem to tune into.
Juan ends up making Nora’s entire outfit by hand. He sews little kitty ears onto a witch’s hat and makes her a cape to twirl in. For Fernando’s benefit, they start getting ready during the day so he can help. Nora’s face is painted green, with black whiskers and dark eyes. She’s delighted with her costume, and the tail sewn onto her pants bounces up and down as she jumps around.
“Meow, daddy. I’ll cast a spell so you can take me next year.” She waves around a plastic staff.
Fernando smiles at his daughter wistfully. “Next year, darling.”
Juan comes down in his costume, dressed as a sorcerer to match Nora. “You ready to get some candy?”
“Yeah!” She waves her arms around, sadness momentarily forgotten at the thought of candy.
“Did you show your daddy your song if they ask you for a trick?”
She scrunches her nose. “No.”
“How about you sing it for daddy.” Juan gives her an encouraging smile.
With that, Nora does a perfect rendition of “I’m a little teapot”, with some extra meows thrown in. Fernando laughs and it hurts a bit. He hasn’t seen his daughter this outgoing since Olalla passed, and it’s all because of Juan. Little Juan who spent hours making his daughter’s costume and drawing away all her sadness from how her dad can’t take her trick or treating. He’s suddenly so grateful for this man in his life and his children’s lives and he can’t imagine what he would’ve done without him.
~
England plays Spain for a friendly, and the next day Sergio Ramos shows up at his door. Fernando’s surprise quickly melts into joy at seeing his best friend.
“I’m so glad to see you,” he mumbles, his face squished into the defender’s neck. If there were paparazzi outside his house, they could’ve gotten some incredibly discriminating shots.
“Me too Nando.” Sergio runs his hands up and down Fernando’s back, soothing him as much as possible. “We all did.”
“Missed me, or my goals?” he tries to joke.
“Well, we didn’t score, so I guess just the goals.” He sees the striker frown. “Oh no, it wasn’t your fault; the whole team was just a mess that game.”
“Still,” he demurs, “I wish I could’ve been there.”
“Where are Nora and Leo?” Sergio tries to change the subject, he’s here to cheer his friend up, not to make him despair even more.
Fernando’s smile comes back at the mention of his kids. “Leo’s sleeping, and Juan took Nora and the dogs out for a walk.”
“Juan?”
“The nanny that Chelsea sent me. He’s Spanish too, so my kids won’t forget their language.” He explains.
“A guy?” Sergio laughs. “The club sent you a manny!”
“I guess they did.” Fernando has never thought about Juan’s gender. He’s always been Juan, the guy who’s amazing with his children. “But he’s just so good with them,” he gushes. “You should see the way he plays with them. They love him a lot.”
“Oh wow.” Sergio is surprised, because his friend is unusually vocal in his admiration. “He passed Nora’s test of acceptance?” He remembers how long it took him to befriend Nora, it was a whole Eurocup campaign before she would let him pick her up.
“Yeah. And Leo always stops crying when Juan picks him up.”
“It’s like you hired a baby whisperer.”
“I’m just glad that the kids have someone who adores them when I’m not there. It’s been really hard for them.” Fernando’s voice tapers off, he thinks about Leo and Nora right after the accident. He’s so glad they’re happier now, and maybe one day he will be too.
“I’m here for you, even all the way in Madrid.” Sergio grabs his friend and just holds him tight. “We’re all here for you. All of Spain is here for you,” he whispers fiercely and hopes Fernando understands.
~
“What kind of juice do you want?” Juan slides opens the fridge display. It’s one of the most profound differences when he came to England, how much choice there is in the grocery store. Like how there are over a dozen milk options, whereas Spain just had whole milk.
“Orange is fine.” Fernando squints at the display.
“Pulp or no pulp?”
“Pulp.”
“Really?” Juan scrunches up his nose. “But there’s nasty bits in your juice.”
“Pulps makes it taste more like actual oranges you know?” Fernando grins. “If you squeezed real oranges, you’d get pulp.”
Juan is not convinced and grabs a carton of grapefruit juice for himself. “We need more eggs too,” he remarks, while pushing the shopping cart along. Leo makes grabby hands from his seat on the cart, so Juan tickles him until he’s giggling.
“Daddy, can we buy a cake?” Nora looks imploringly at her daddy, and he’s never been able to deny her anything, especially with her mother’s eyes widened like that.
“Just a small one, honey.” It’s just a cake, it’s not like he’s buying her a pony, though he certainly has the money if she decides she wants one.
“That one.” She smacks her tiny hand on the glass at the pastry counter towards a chocolate one shaped like a heart and tied with a large red ribbon.
“It’s okay to say no, you know,” Juan murmurs in a low voice while the cake is being wrapped up.
“I know I’m spoiling her,” Fernando sighs. “But she’s had so much taken away; it’s difficult to deny her anything else.” He tries to explain to Juan, he’s not sure why he feels like he needs Juan’s approval.
“Just you wait until she starts bringing guys home,” the younger man teases.
“That’ll be a long way from now,” he comments fondly, looking at his daughter flouncing between the aisles.
Fernando is having a hard time perusing the cereal section; everything contains so much sugar. There was something with almonds that Olalla always picked out, but none of these packaging looks familiar.
“You should go for Greek yogurt and oatmeal instead,” Juan suggests. “Lots of fat-free protein and slow release carbs, won’t weigh you down on the pitch.”
“Oh.” Fernando is amazed at how Juan just understands him, just from how he’s standing before the array of cereals. He feels like one of his kids. “Thanks.”
“Let’s grab those and go home? I think Leo needs a diaper change.” Juan pushes their full cart to the dairy section while Fernando swings Nora around in his arms.
They pass by another couple who stiffens and glares at them. “Your family is unnatural,” the woman hisses when they push their trolley past.
Fernando stiffens and pulls Nora closer to him. He knows what the woman is implying, and even though it’s not true, he feels the need to defend himself and his family.
“Hey.” Juan touches him gently and Fernando pulls closer to the other man. Juan’s eyes are icy as he herds Fernando and the children by without another word.
“Those people,” Fernando spits out. “They make me so angry.”
Juan shrugs. “People who assume are usually wrong.”
“That’s not it.” He shakes his head, scattering blonde hair in his face. “This family, it’s perfect the way it is.”
“Of course it is.”
“I mean with you too.” Fernando looks his nanny in the eyes. “You’re part of the family now.”
Part 2