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Isco took young Marco into his arms as he made his way into the Valdebebas, where his husband was training his team, Juvenil A. It had been some time since he'd come to see the practice. Isco, a retired footballer and two time Ballon d'Or winner had said his goodbyes to football five years ago. However, at 39, he still had his 'magia' moves in him, or so Álvaro claimed. He liked to help Álvaro out sometimes during the trainings, and those times he truly missed the thrill of football, the smell of the freshly mown grass, the deafening applause of the Bernabeau.
He came to a halt as soon as he laid eyes on his husband. At 39, Álvaro had shown no signs of aging, none, nothing, nada. Time might pass but his perfect smile, his kind eyes were still radiant and shining. The same could be told about his nature on the field, hadn't changed a bit in all these years, never smiling, always concentrating too hard.
He was talking to their star player, Mr. Milan Pique, goalkeeper and captain of the team. Milan had really turned heads and generated quite a controversy when he'd decided to join the youth academy of Real Madrid. He was the son of the President of FC Barcelona, face of Anti Madridistas, Mr Gerard Pique. Despite of his father's wishes, Milan joined Barcelona's arch rival, Real Madrid. Of course, the coach of the first team, Sergio Ramos couldn't be happier. Many said Milan shown quite the skills as well, a striking resemblance to Iker Casillas, VP/Legend of Real Madrid/Sergio's husband. Though, Iker had told in an interview that he'd become better than he'd been.
Álvaro finished his talk, turned around and saw Isco, and their son, a soft smile appeared on his face.
Marco, apparently too eager to see his dad started squirming in Isco's arms so he put the little boy down. He ran into his father's arms and tried to envelope him in a hug, but his tiny, 5 years old arms could hardly cover half of his body.
"Hi Champ!" Álvaro smiled as he ruffled his son's hair. He already almost reached his thigh. Oh, how quickly kids grow up.
"Marco, my man! Wassup?" Milan asked, excitedly. Milan had a soft spot for Marco, like his cool kid brother and everytime Marco visited, he loved to play with the little guy. They even had their own handshake.
They did their not so secret specialty and it oddly reminded Isco of Sergio and Lucas, back in the days.
"Hey Dad, can I play a game with Milan and everyone?" Little Marco asked with hope and excitement in his eyes.
It was always very difficult for Álvaro to say no their son. He glanced at his husband and thought they must be thinking the same, judging by the expression on his face; their son couldn't be at a better place to learn. Isco nodded with a smile around the corner of his lips.
"Yeah, sure buddy, why not! Why don't your Dad and I also play? It'll be fun!"
"Nah, I want to sit this one out," Isco waved as he sat to the bench. He wanted to observe this one from a different point of view, with a bit of a distance between them.
Álvaro frowned but didn't really push.
He and Marco were in the same team and on the opposite side they had Milan and Sergio Jr. (Who would obviously be on the same team). The game was intense, only going soft when Marco was around.
Álvaro was wearing his old Real Madrid #9 jersey and Isco shouted on an impulse, "Hey, nine!" Álvaro looked over his shoulder. "Call me?" His husband made a phone with his fingers and Álvaro smirked.
He reached the penalty area and was about to score when he saw his son besides him. He passed him the ball and Marco scored. Milan overreacted his defeated and sad expressions, even though him and Sergio were secretly holding a smile.
Isco saw all this from afar, his eyes glistening with tears. He had everything and seeing Álvaro and Marco celebrate their goal was really a beautiful sight for him.
That's it, it was enough time in the stands for him.
"Oye nine!! Sub me in!!"