Fic: Chase the Light (Ozil/Benzema)
TITLE: Chase the Light
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Karim has insomnia. Written for a prompt at footballkink.
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Mesut Ozil/Karim Benzema)
STATUS: One Shot - Complete
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
*~*
Mesut isn’t too sure how they ended up rooming together. When the subject of rooms had first come up, he had looked instinctively for Sami - but Sami was across the other side of the foyer, and it was late, Mesut was tired and Karim was right there, so...
They were roommates.
On paper it worked, they listened to the same type of music, had similar interests and managed to communicate relatively well in a bizarre mixture of Spanish, English and the sporadic tibet of French. But the paper didn’t dictate Karim’s habit of leaving the tap running when he was brushing his teeth, or the way he’d hit the snooze button exactly three times before bounding out of bed with all the energy in the world. The paper also missed his tendency to misplace absolutely everything and cheat shamelessly on the playstation. But most importantly, the paper failed to mention the insomnia.
It took Mesut a little while to realise what was going on, because Karim never mentioned it. But night after night, Mesut found himself falling asleep to the sound of Karim’s music coming too loud through his headphones or to the soft flickers of magazine pages or the gentle scratch of a pen against a crossword. A couple of times Mesut would wake in the middle of the night to the toilet flushing or soft footsteps padding through the darkness, other nights he would wake to the sound of a window being pushed open and he would fall back asleep with the vision of Karim at the window, skin pale and luminous in the moonlight. But he got used to the soft disturbances - to the sound of Karim tossing and turning, to getting up for glasses of water and shuffling across the room to the bathroom - they all just evolved into the typical noises of the night, comforting and beautiful in their own way.
But it was worrying too because Mesut could see that he was tired. He could see it in how Karim played, how he trained, how he interacted with the group - some days were better than others, most of the time Mesut felt ridiculous for even noticing the difference. But he did notice, and there was no real use pretending that he didn’t.
“So what’s with the insomnia?”
It’s a stupid opening line. It’s one of those lines that could have been appropriate over breakfast or as a sporadic question at training, but it was three in the morning and the five words hung thick in the darkness between them.
“Are you stalking my sleeping habits?” Karim asked, voice caught between confusion and amusement.
Mesut pushed himself up off his pillows and glared across the darkness, “no, but you make a heck of a lot of noise when you decide to go on midnight walks around the room every single night.”
“I do not,” Karim denied easily.
“Seriously,” Mesut frowned, “what’s up? Are you thinking I’m going to murder you in your sleep or something?”
“No.”
“Not used to sleeping with someone else in the room?”
“No.”
“Anxious about the season?”
Karim sighed, “sleep just isn’t my strong point, okay? Can we drop this? Go back to sleep, Mesut.”
Mesut stared across the darkness for a beat before shrugging and laying back down. “Okay then.”
Silence filled the room for several minutes before Karim murmured, “sorry, am I really that loud?”
“No,” Mesut admitted, soft smile crossing his lips. “I just notice your patterns, that’s all.”
“Speaking of patterns, you snore exactly once every single hour.”
Mesut blinked and turned his head to face Karim bewildered, “what?”
Karim smiled amused, “yeah.”
“That’s not even possible.”
“It is. I’m not kidding. I’m going to film you sometime. Seriously, every hour, only once, you have this huge abrupt snort.” Karim laughed.
Mesut rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “I do not.”
Karim laughed. “Could be worse, you could be a chronic snorer, then I’d never get any sleep.”
Mesut ran a hand wearily over his face, “I don’t know how you do it, how do you function without a good nights rest?”
“I rest.”
“You pace,” Mesut corrected.
“It helps.”
“Can I do anything?”
“What? Like sing me a lullaby?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m fine.” Karim murmured. “But thanks for asking.”
Mesut didn’t really realise how finely attuned he was to Karim’s sleeping patterns until he started to wake-up a couple of times throughout the night. Every hour or two, he would wake, staring blankly at the ceiling waiting patiently for sleep to claim him once more. He desperately hoped that this wasn’t going to become a regular thing, because he got cranky as hell when he was tired. But after a couple of nights, it became clear that this wasn’t a passing thing. On the third night, Mesut pushed himself up and groaned. “I fucking hate you.”
Karim didn’t answer, he had his head phones on and Mesut could just hear the soft hum of the beat coming through the speakers. He could have passed for asleep, except that his fingers were tapping against the mattress. Mesut debated with himself briefly before pushing himself up and out of bed, shuffling sleepily across the expanse of the room and flopping down onto the edge of Karim’s bed.
Karim’s eyes opened with the dip of the mattress and he lifted one of the headphones from his ear, “what’s up?”
“Can’t sleep.” Mesut grumbled, “you can’t sleep, I can’t sleep. Your energy is keeping me awake.”
“Energy?” Karim repeated, “geeze, don’t get all new age on me.” He shuffled over making room for him, “want to listen to some music?”
Mesut shook his head and lay down, shuffling around and making room for himself, “not really. I feel like running.”
“I feel like cooking,” Karim put in with a smile.
Mesut blinked and laughed surprised, “what?”
Karim shrugged, “I don’t know. Whenever I was a kid and couldn’t sleep my mum used to give me cookies and milk.”
“How in the hell does that translate to cooking?”
“Cause when I moved out I started cooking the cookies,” Karim replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh.” Mesut paused, “we don’t have a kitchen.”
“Yeah, I know.” Karim slid his headphones completely off his head, “so, running then?”
Mesut looked over surprised, “I wasn’t completely serious.”
Karim pushed himself up and stood, “neither was I. Let’s go for a walk.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, lets go, its not like either of us is accomplishing anything beneficial here.”
The night was slightly chilly. Mesut zipped his jacket up to his chin and sunk his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as they strolled along the street outside the hotel. Karim walked quietly beside him, foot reaching out every couple of steps to nudge along the football he had found somewhere between their room and reception. Mesut’s watch read 3:38am, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been up this late, but he felt strangely alive as they walked along.
“So, have you always had trouble sleeping?” Mesut asked curiously once they were a couple of streets away from the rest of the team.
Karim shrugged, “no, not really. On and off as a kid, but other than that, just here.”
“In Spain?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what it is. Last season I put it all down to being new, this season... I don’t know, its just one of those things, I guess.”
Mesut reached out and stole the ball before Karim could nudge it ahead, kicking it in a clean straight line down the road, both of them watching, making no real move to speed up their pace. They caught up with it eventually and Karim nudged it further down the road before continuing, “some nights I sleep well, others, not so much.” Karim glanced at Mesut, “how about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you adapting to Spain alright?”
“Yeah. Its hard being away from friends and family, but thats all just a part of the game.”
“Yeah.” Karim nodded to a park up ahead, “feel like kicking the ball around for a bit?”
“What else do you do at four in the morning?”
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Karim has insomnia. Written for a prompt at footballkink.
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Mesut Ozil/Karim Benzema)
STATUS: One Shot - Complete
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
*~*
Mesut isn’t too sure how they ended up rooming together. When the subject of rooms had first come up, he had looked instinctively for Sami - but Sami was across the other side of the foyer, and it was late, Mesut was tired and Karim was right there, so...
They were roommates.
On paper it worked, they listened to the same type of music, had similar interests and managed to communicate relatively well in a bizarre mixture of Spanish, English and the sporadic tibet of French. But the paper didn’t dictate Karim’s habit of leaving the tap running when he was brushing his teeth, or the way he’d hit the snooze button exactly three times before bounding out of bed with all the energy in the world. The paper also missed his tendency to misplace absolutely everything and cheat shamelessly on the playstation. But most importantly, the paper failed to mention the insomnia.
It took Mesut a little while to realise what was going on, because Karim never mentioned it. But night after night, Mesut found himself falling asleep to the sound of Karim’s music coming too loud through his headphones or to the soft flickers of magazine pages or the gentle scratch of a pen against a crossword. A couple of times Mesut would wake in the middle of the night to the toilet flushing or soft footsteps padding through the darkness, other nights he would wake to the sound of a window being pushed open and he would fall back asleep with the vision of Karim at the window, skin pale and luminous in the moonlight. But he got used to the soft disturbances - to the sound of Karim tossing and turning, to getting up for glasses of water and shuffling across the room to the bathroom - they all just evolved into the typical noises of the night, comforting and beautiful in their own way.
But it was worrying too because Mesut could see that he was tired. He could see it in how Karim played, how he trained, how he interacted with the group - some days were better than others, most of the time Mesut felt ridiculous for even noticing the difference. But he did notice, and there was no real use pretending that he didn’t.
“So what’s with the insomnia?”
It’s a stupid opening line. It’s one of those lines that could have been appropriate over breakfast or as a sporadic question at training, but it was three in the morning and the five words hung thick in the darkness between them.
“Are you stalking my sleeping habits?” Karim asked, voice caught between confusion and amusement.
Mesut pushed himself up off his pillows and glared across the darkness, “no, but you make a heck of a lot of noise when you decide to go on midnight walks around the room every single night.”
“I do not,” Karim denied easily.
“Seriously,” Mesut frowned, “what’s up? Are you thinking I’m going to murder you in your sleep or something?”
“No.”
“Not used to sleeping with someone else in the room?”
“No.”
“Anxious about the season?”
Karim sighed, “sleep just isn’t my strong point, okay? Can we drop this? Go back to sleep, Mesut.”
Mesut stared across the darkness for a beat before shrugging and laying back down. “Okay then.”
Silence filled the room for several minutes before Karim murmured, “sorry, am I really that loud?”
“No,” Mesut admitted, soft smile crossing his lips. “I just notice your patterns, that’s all.”
“Speaking of patterns, you snore exactly once every single hour.”
Mesut blinked and turned his head to face Karim bewildered, “what?”
Karim smiled amused, “yeah.”
“That’s not even possible.”
“It is. I’m not kidding. I’m going to film you sometime. Seriously, every hour, only once, you have this huge abrupt snort.” Karim laughed.
Mesut rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “I do not.”
Karim laughed. “Could be worse, you could be a chronic snorer, then I’d never get any sleep.”
Mesut ran a hand wearily over his face, “I don’t know how you do it, how do you function without a good nights rest?”
“I rest.”
“You pace,” Mesut corrected.
“It helps.”
“Can I do anything?”
“What? Like sing me a lullaby?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m fine.” Karim murmured. “But thanks for asking.”
Mesut didn’t really realise how finely attuned he was to Karim’s sleeping patterns until he started to wake-up a couple of times throughout the night. Every hour or two, he would wake, staring blankly at the ceiling waiting patiently for sleep to claim him once more. He desperately hoped that this wasn’t going to become a regular thing, because he got cranky as hell when he was tired. But after a couple of nights, it became clear that this wasn’t a passing thing. On the third night, Mesut pushed himself up and groaned. “I fucking hate you.”
Karim didn’t answer, he had his head phones on and Mesut could just hear the soft hum of the beat coming through the speakers. He could have passed for asleep, except that his fingers were tapping against the mattress. Mesut debated with himself briefly before pushing himself up and out of bed, shuffling sleepily across the expanse of the room and flopping down onto the edge of Karim’s bed.
Karim’s eyes opened with the dip of the mattress and he lifted one of the headphones from his ear, “what’s up?”
“Can’t sleep.” Mesut grumbled, “you can’t sleep, I can’t sleep. Your energy is keeping me awake.”
“Energy?” Karim repeated, “geeze, don’t get all new age on me.” He shuffled over making room for him, “want to listen to some music?”
Mesut shook his head and lay down, shuffling around and making room for himself, “not really. I feel like running.”
“I feel like cooking,” Karim put in with a smile.
Mesut blinked and laughed surprised, “what?”
Karim shrugged, “I don’t know. Whenever I was a kid and couldn’t sleep my mum used to give me cookies and milk.”
“How in the hell does that translate to cooking?”
“Cause when I moved out I started cooking the cookies,” Karim replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh.” Mesut paused, “we don’t have a kitchen.”
“Yeah, I know.” Karim slid his headphones completely off his head, “so, running then?”
Mesut looked over surprised, “I wasn’t completely serious.”
Karim pushed himself up and stood, “neither was I. Let’s go for a walk.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, lets go, its not like either of us is accomplishing anything beneficial here.”
The night was slightly chilly. Mesut zipped his jacket up to his chin and sunk his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as they strolled along the street outside the hotel. Karim walked quietly beside him, foot reaching out every couple of steps to nudge along the football he had found somewhere between their room and reception. Mesut’s watch read 3:38am, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been up this late, but he felt strangely alive as they walked along.
“So, have you always had trouble sleeping?” Mesut asked curiously once they were a couple of streets away from the rest of the team.
Karim shrugged, “no, not really. On and off as a kid, but other than that, just here.”
“In Spain?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what it is. Last season I put it all down to being new, this season... I don’t know, its just one of those things, I guess.”
Mesut reached out and stole the ball before Karim could nudge it ahead, kicking it in a clean straight line down the road, both of them watching, making no real move to speed up their pace. They caught up with it eventually and Karim nudged it further down the road before continuing, “some nights I sleep well, others, not so much.” Karim glanced at Mesut, “how about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you adapting to Spain alright?”
“Yeah. Its hard being away from friends and family, but thats all just a part of the game.”
“Yeah.” Karim nodded to a park up ahead, “feel like kicking the ball around for a bit?”
“What else do you do at four in the morning?”