Entry tags: fic, sernando
batalla
Title: Batalla.
Pairing: Fernando Torres / Sergio Ramos
Rating: G.
Summary: Three stages of a fight. The ending might seem a little out of place and sudden but I wanted to show that a problem is neverending. Enjoy!
Diclaimer: "I was guessing. But my guesses have, usually, been good."
before the fight.
Sergio will resist. This time. Sergio will resist. He will stay strong. Give him a one-armed bro hug maybe and then move on. He will not linger around freckles and blonde hair and long legs. He will resist.
***
But then there is a balcony and a view and Fernando leaning his head against Sergio’s shoulders and chuckling lightly when he lets his lips brush against Sergio’s neck. His cool breath tickles on his skin and he tries so hard but Sergio can’t stop himself. Fernando rests both hands against Sergio’s belly and sighs, draws circles over his T-shirts, shaping words and signs that Sergio can’t make out. Or maybe he just doesn’t try hard enough.
“You’re so tense.†Fernando whispers, voice muffled because his lips are firmly placed against Sergio’s shoulders as if he is actually doing it on purpose and, “Somebody should write a song about this.â€
Sergio disentangles himself then, shuffles a few steps away and wishes Fernando would just. Stop. Because his words paint a very happy picture, a very happy future for both of them and Sergio just can’t understand why Fernando has to stand so close to him and why his skin smells like apples and vanilla and why Sergio just can’t stop wanting him.
Why Sergio suddenly feels ready to promise a thousand promises, why he wants to listen to every single words Fernando has to say, as soon as Fernando turns around and smiles at him (a quivering smile, tugging the corners of his lips down, Sergio pretends he doesn’t see it).
He just wants to know why.
“It’s like something out of a movie,†Fernando starts again, an almost embarrassed expression on his face when Sergio takes yet another step away from him. He points at The Lying Rag dissapearing behind the horizon and the pink sky. “It’s that kind of place you know? Where stuff like that just. Happens.â€
“Stuff like what?†Sergio almost snaps, bites at Fernando. He sighs. “Rehearsed kisses between arrogant actors and actresses with bodies that make you want to crawl in a corner and die?â€
“Die? Why?†Fernando looks up again. “Hah, that rhymes.â€
“Hmpf.†Sergio snorts. “I think we can all agree that Jude Law has better legs than I have. And a better nose. Definitely a better nose.†Sergio sums up.
“Ah, forgot you had a bit of a thing for Law. I like your legs. Nose, not so much. Not anymore. But I like your legs.†Fernando shrugs. “No, seriously. Don’t give me that look.â€
“I’m not giving you a look!â€
Fernando gives him a tired sigh. “Don’t wanna fight.â€
Sergio rolls his eyes.
“Come sit with me? Just for a while? Please?â€
“Ok.â€
Because he never learned how to say no to lean blonde boys with cheeks like roses and eyes like the night.
***
“You know the beginning of Grease?†Fernando ask when they walk out of their beach house and onto the white beach. “When they are bumming around in the sand? This feels like that.â€
Sergio smiles when Fernando runs in front of him and falls down in the sand a few meters away, spreading his arms and legs in pure ecstasy, like a sea star.
Sergio goes to sit beside him (it’s not that he wants to watch Fernando’s face for a bit, it’s just that sitting is much more comfortable than lying down, obviously) and merely snorts. Fernando officially has the worst taste in movies. A sucker for the cheap ones with the cheap stories and the even cheaper costumes. Not that Sergio doesn’t want to Dirty Dance with him or do a bit of Grease Lightning when nobody’s watching but. You know. That’s different.
“Summer loving … Oh … Happened so fast!†Fernando hums, grinning brightly at the sky.
Sergio rolls his eyes. What else is there to do at this point? He is definitely not going to sing along, nope, no fucking way. “Fer, stop it. Please don’t?â€
“Met a boy! Cute as can be!†Fernando props himself up on one elbow and grins at him. “Come on, Sergio, you know the words!â€
“I. Don’t.â€
“You. Do.†(And Sergio hates how that teasing tone in his voice sounds better than anything he has ever heard in his life). “Sing it, Sergi! You know you want to …â€
“Meh. Blah … Blah … Down in the sa-hand.†He doesn’t even try to make it sound even remotely good.
“I’ll take you down in the sand.â€
“Huh.â€
“Joke. You want to come skinny-dip with me? Haven’t done that in a long, long time.â€
Then there are less clothes and Fernando is already throwing his T-shirt on the ground, undressing himself with such abnormal speed Sergio almost forgets to take his eyes off of him. Almost.
Fernando yells loudly and happy as he runs away from Sergio, into the water, diving under the surface before swimming up again and yeah. He’s wearing absolutely no clothes.
Neither is Sergio. Apparently. When did that even happen?
He starts walking, automatic pilot and Fernando has the best bum in the world. Sergio looks across the low ripples, black in the darkness and he tries so, so fucking hard to not let his gaze shift to Fernando, who is now standing perfectly still, nothing but water surrounding him. He tries so hard to not see the smooth lines of his tanned back, shoulders, arms, hips but Sergio can’t tear his eyes and fuck. Who is stopping him from perving on Fernando anyway? After all, he can’t help it that Fernando looks like an angel and he can’t help that there’s no other person he wants more (not right now, not ever). He can’t help that he wants to take pictures in his mind of how perfectly content Fernando looks right now.
It’s all his fault.
Gentle swells break over Sergio’s toes as he steps into the water and the soft summer breeze of the night hits his skin. He walks and walks, water getting up higher and higher and Fernando looks over his shoulder. He’s never been more happy that the waves are a perfect cover for everything underneath the waist because yeah. Fernando with all his clothes off and all, in the sea, wet hair, yeah, not exactly worst-case scenario, according to his dick. Embarrassing really.
Sergio holds still a few meters away from him, determined to not let his mind run away with him but apparently Fernando is in one of those moods again because he walks over to him, wet hair plastered to his forehead and Sergio almost, almost raises his hand to brush the soft hair away. Almost.
“The sea is my second favorite place to be.†Fernando smiles.
“What’s your favorite place then?â€
“You chest.†Fernando answers matter-of-factly. “’s My resting place.â€
Sergio has no idea what to say because he loves Fernando so much at that moment that he can’t ever start to put it into words. It’s everything he wants, everything he wishes, Fernando’s way starts with him and ends with him, they’re gonna be here forever. Sergio’s not going to lose him.
“Fernando … I –†Yeah, words fail him.
Fernando grins shyly, almost as if he just admitted his biggest fear, secret, thing he has always waited for. And then, in a flash, he has his arms wrapped around Sergio’s body, so close, so tight, Sergio can barely breath and yeah. He’s totally, obviously hard against Fernando’s leg and that’s.
“I’m so. I’m so sorry. I just.†Sergio starts waltzing out of the water. “I can’t do this.â€
It never sucked so much to be naked and the walk of shame never tasted so bitter.
during the fight.
“Don’t leave me like that, ever again.â€
Sergio wonders how Fernando has the actual guts to say that to him.
“How dare you, you of all people, say that to me?â€
Fernando shrugs like he doesn’t really knows the answer either.
***
“I hate you.†Sergio says.
I love you so much it scares me.
“Leave me alone.†Sergio says.
Stop running away from me.
***
Iker tries to poke the answers out of Sergio, half an hour after he gets in and they’re sitting on the couch, Sergio’s feet up on Iker’s lap (neither of them mentions it’s usually Fernando’s feet up on Sergio’s lap, Sergio teasingly tickling his soles every once in a while because he likes the sound of Fernando’s giggles). It’s not that easy though, after half a minute of, “Tell me what you feel, Sergio†the man gets up, and growls a, “Leave me the fuck alone.â€
And leaves. Iker cringes, ready to hear a door slam but it never comes. Thirty seconds, he counts in his head and,
“You done with being alone already?â€
Because Sergio walks into the living room again and plonks down on the sofa, he’s not crying, of course not, there’s just, semi-tears in his eyes, because it’s cold so Iker says nothing about it. Just waits. Waits for the words to come out.
“Yeah, I am. Fuck, I am so done with being alone. So fucking done.â€
“I can imagine that.†Iker nods wisely, pushing Sergio’s coffee back in his hands and sitting a bit closer because Sergio’s all for physical contact and yeah, Iker might not have Fernando’s long hands but he’s got hands still so.
Iker lets his head fall back on Sergio’s shoulder and wraps an arm around him. Because, okay, maybe his head doesn’t fit right there, in the hollow right underneath Sergio’s jaw line, like Fernando’s head fits there but still, it sort of, works.
“You know what I hate the most?†Sergio mutters. “He said he’d give us another chance. One we didn’t deserve but still. But he never did, did he? He had already given up on us. And it’s not longer my fault. It’s just. It’s just not. Not anymore.â€
“I know, Sergi, I know. He’s being … He’s being a prick right now.â€
“I wish I was his boyfriend.â€
And yeah, that fucking tears Iker’s heart in two because okay, Sergio’s done a lot of things wrong and he fucked a lot of things up but he’s made Fernando the happiest boy in the world and that’s a really tough challenge.
“I –†Iker wants to say that he understands, that he knows, that he loves but Sergio’s not finished and he knows that tomorrow, Sergio’s probably not going to be as open as he is now so he just shuts his mouth again when Sergio cuts him off and closes his eyes.
“Fernando’s just. He’s always right there, you know? He’s in my closet because his shirts that he couldn’t be bothered to take home anymore are still there and he’s in my phone because there’s still the texts he sent to his mother when he had lost his phone again and he’s still on my couch because there’s his favorite pillow that he always used to take with him, wherever we went. He’s everywhere. And I can’t sleep because his scent is still somehow on the sheets even though I keep washing them and I’m here and he’s over there and I’m sure he sleeps perfectly fine without me.â€
And then Iker almost starts to fucking sob because this? This sucks. A lot. Sergio doesn’t break, he bends, sure, but he doesn’t break and yet he’s here, falling apart in Iker’s arms and it shouldn’t be like this and Iker can’t handle it either because he found this picture of the four of them yesterday and Fernando had apparently just woken up because he was just sort of lying on Sergio’s lap, eyes half-closed and everyone just looked. Happy, content, good.
Iker kisses Sergio on his cheek.
“You can stay in my bed tonight.â€
after the fight.
A day later. The bed in his own hotel room is cold, big and empty and there’s no running away from the way Sergio shivers. For the hundredth time that day, he asks himself why he keeps falling for the same freckles, for the same eyes, for the same hair. Is it the prospect of having Fernando alone again, without her, without them? His puppy-dog eyes because it wouldn’t be the same without you?
He wants to let go. He wants to let go now. He wants to swim and run and he wants to watch that funny movie with that pretty actress again. He wants to buy that sweater he found in a shop a few weeks ago but didn’t felt like buying it because he didn’t have much time anyway. He wants to dance again, he wants to play. He wants to win a marathon and finish his school after all. He wants to wash his hair and maybe dye it blonde. He wants Fernando.
It calls out to him, like a siren on a rock. The freckles on Fernando’s shoulders and the way his hair curls when he wakes up. That trail of hair under his navel and the way he always sucks his belly in when Sergio strokes his stomach, because Sergio apparently has the “best tummy in the world and I don’t so yeah.â€
A lie. But. It had been enough to make him smile, at the time. Sergio biting down on Fernando’s earlobe before letting his index finger sink into the soft skin of Fernando’s tummy. It had been the night where Fernando had asked Sergio what number he was on his speed dial. Number one, obviously, because apparently that’s the place that belonged to Fernando when it came to Sergio’s life. Fernando had told him the same, Sergio, Olalla, Steven, Xabi. His family all near each other. As it should be.
Sergio gets up, fumbles in his bag, searches for his iPod because music takes his mind away to better places, because it blows his ears and closes his eyes. The soundtrack to so many of his favorite moments.
Without even noticing it (or, that’s what Sergio tries to tell himself), he scrolls over the “Fernando + Sergio†list that Fernando made for him once. Cheesy songs, that remind him of hot kisses and slow dancing in the living room when nobody was watching. And sometimes a heavy beat, that takes him back to jumping around like dorks because they both had too much energy, or making up their own movie, including every famous actor and actress they wanted.
Sergio falls asleep with the image of Fernando dedicating a song to him, standing on the couch with a water bottle as a microphone. He thinks that’s the first time they fucked on the ground. Maybe it was.
***
“Sergio?†A voice. Low and sexy like chocolate. Sergio looks up and sees Fernando standing in the doorway. “Can I come in?â€
He hops from one leg to another, boxer short and hoodie too wide for his lean body, cap over his eyes and as if. As if Sergio could ever refuse him anything when he looks like that. Hell will have frozen over when he finally learns how to say no.
“Yeah.â€
Fernando lies down next to him. Sergio wants to crawl under his skin, wants to hold onto him. He refrains. He waits.
“Fernando?†Sergio puts his stupid puzzle book away. Because it made him feel like shit anyway and who spends his night doing puzzles honestly? Not the Sergio Ramos from a few years ago, the one who was wide-eyed and excited and shiny. Not that there is all that much left of that guy. “What do you want?â€
“Ah. Good question.†Fernando answers, turns to his side to face Sergio and slowly lets his index finger walk over the silky soft skin of his arm. Sergio wants to purr. “I want you, mainly. Chocolate wouldn’t hurt either but. You’re the number one on my wish list.â€
“Be serious.â€
“I am, you fucker.†Fernando almost hisses, looking a little hurt, a little embarrassed. “I am here, am I not? I am here, trying to be romantic and you still have something to complain about.â€
Sergio puts his finger on the creases in Fernando’s forehead, smoothes them away. He waits.
“Listen.âernando takes a deep breath, shuffles clothes, wraps his warm legs around Sergio’s colder ones. Sergio loves him so much he feels as if his heart is about to burst. “You know we’re not good at this. We fuck, we mess up, we talk, we fight. But at the end of the day, there should not be any kind of space between our names. You have the best smile and the most horrible shoes in the world and I need that. In need you.â€
“I do not –â€
“Don’t.†Fernando gives him a warning look.
Sergio sighs, bites on his bottom lip. “Well, yeah. I kind of need you too.â€
“Good.â€
“Good.â€
The sound of Iker talking softly on the phone to somebody is like a lullaby when Fernando bends forward to capture Sergio’s bottom-lip in between his own, hands on the small of his back, fingers digging into flesh.
Sergio lets his head fall back when Fernando rests his head on his chest. Because his favorite person on earth finally found his resting place again.
