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Sergio curses loudly when he stubs his toe on a toy truck. Various toys are strewn all over the carpet, half the furniture is askew and the living room looks more like a warzone than anything. He straightens out one of the armchairs and bends down to pick up a throw pillow that somehow ended up on the other side of the room. His toe still throbs angrily, but he figures it’s his own fault for letting the boys play football inside. Thankfully for all of them Gerard wasn’t home to witness the damage, or, more likely, make it even worse.
He recovers a small football from under the sofa and almost steps into the shards of a broken picture frame. He groans and bends down to sweep up the glass, dumping it into the trash before he sets the frame back onto the mantelpiece, smiling softly when he recognizes the picture of their first international match together. Gerard without a beard, and his own hair still falling past his shoulders and it’s been so long, it feels like half a lifetime ago.
*
Sevilla, February 11th, 2009
It’s only a friendly, but the victory feels amazing anyway, mostly because he loves to win, but also because winning in his hometown always feels particularly special.
The dressing room buzzes with excitement, everyone’s laughing and talking, music is blasting loudly through the speakers and the happiness is more than contagious, Sergio humming along to the familiar song as he unlaces his boots. He glances over towards the new guy, studies him out of the corner of his eyes. Awfully tall, loud laugh, gorgeous blue eyes. He faintly remembers him from the last clasico, but that’s about all he knows.
They almost bump into each other on the way to the showers, Sergio mumbling some sort of half-hearted apology, but Gerard only laughs it off, blue eyes sparkling.
“We should celebrate your first game for the national team,” Sergio finds himself offering, as surprised at his own words as the other man.
“You know any good bars around here?”
“Of course,” Sergio smirks and that’s how they end up in the dark corner of a dive bar in the center of Sevilla, matching each other shot for shot, discovering quickly that they have far more in common than anyone would have ever expected, even with the fierce club rivalry between them.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Sergio laughs when the shot glasses in front of them have become numerous, his words slurring softly.
Gerard shakes his head, equally drunk as Sergio, his limbs uncoordinated as he leans over him to push another glass towards him. “It was a perfect idea. You should try this.”
Sergio frowns at the strangely blue liquid. “Are you trying to poison me?” he cackles, his head lolling onto Gerard’ shoulder.
“Never,” Gerard’s eyes are wide. “I like your smile too much,” and his breath is hot on Sergio’s face, making his skin flush and his spine tingle.
“Wanna get out of here?” he prompts, nudging Gerard in the side. “My house is not far.”
And it’s the easiest thing in the world to let Gerard press him against the wall of his bedroom, their mouths crashing together hungrily, clothes strewn across the floor and hands tangled fiercely in each others hair before they’ve even made it to Sergio’s bed.
They wake up the next morning on opposite sides of the bed, skin sticky and heads pounding, the covers crumpled on the floor, but there’s no awkwardness between them, only pleased smiles as they scramble for their clothes and stumble to the kitchen for breakfast.
It becomes somewhat of an unspoken arrangement between them after that. During international call ups, at night, when there’s nothing else to do and neither of them can really sleep, Sergio ends up in Gerard’s bed and in the morning they’re nothing but regular teammates again. No feelings, no complications, just sex.
*
The persistent sound of the washing machine tears him rudely out of his memory and he rushes over to the laundry room before the annoying noise can wake up the kids. He drags the pile of shirts and socks and hoodies into the laundry basket and fills up the machine again. With four boys in the house it feels like they produce a never ending stream of laundry.
With a groan he heaves the heavy basket up the stairs and dumps everything onto their bed. He sorts through the stack of tiny Barcelona jerseys and equally small white jerseys and there was a time when the sight of both crests so close together would have made him recoil in disgust, but now most of the time he doesn’t even notice anymore. Gerard loves Barcelona, Sergio loves Real Madrid and somehow, against all odds they ended up loving each other. And the kids couldn’t care less about the rivalry anyway, causing their Dads to cringe more then once with various questionable combinations of white shirts and blaugrana shorts.
*
Madrid, July 12th, 2010
They don’t even make it to the bedroom this time, both more drunk on victory than alcohol as Gerard lifts him up on the kitchen table and Sergio who’s always been prone to talking too much, of speaking without thinking, blurts it out without another thought, just as his body begins to shudder under Gerard’s touch.
“I love you,” he moans and freezes instantly, his heart pounding erratically as he tries to scramble away but Gerard’s hands are firm around his wrists, his body pinning him down with no way of escape.
“Took you long enough,” Gerard grins and Sergio would protest but then Gerard’s lips are on his and suddenly he has better things to do with his mouth.
*
Sergio’s in the kitchen studying the contents of the fridge when a strong arm winds around his waist.
“Hi,” Gerard whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Sergio’s neck.
“Hi,” he turns in Gerard’s arms with a grin. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“I brought food.”
Sergio peaks around Gerard’s shoulder at the bags on the table. “What did you bring?”
“Your favorite paella.”
“What did i do to deserve this?” Sergio grins. “Did you forget our anniversary?”
Gerard rolls his eyes and pinches him in the side, laughs when Sergio lets out a high pitched squeal, just to turn crimson with embarrassment. “Can’t i just pamper you once in a while?”
Sergio shrugs, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a pleased smile.
“You look nice today.”
“My hair looks like crap,” Sergio mumbles.
“Your hair looks just fine,” Gerard laughs and tugs the unruly strands behind Sergio’s ears. “How about you set the table and i’ll take a quick shower?”
Sergio smirks. “Want some company?”
“Too tired.”
“Dinner in front of the tv and a movie then?”
“Please,” Gerard gives Sergio a quick kiss before he turns towards the door. He’s already halfway through the door when he turns back again.
“Did the kids watch the game?”
“Yeah. The most well behaved ninety minutes of the whole day.”
Gerard laughs. “Did you?”
“Some of it,” Sergio shrugs, “You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” Gerard shakes his head.
Sergio nods in understanding. They hardly ever discuss football with each other anymore and it might not be the healthiest thing in the world but it’s just easier. They’re both hotheads, especially when football is involved.
“Go shower then. I’ll heat up the food.”
*
Barcelona, November 29th, 2010
They get trashed. There’s really no other way of putting it and Sergio’s head hangs in shame as he trots down the tunnel a few minutes before the rest of his teammates, because once again his temper got the better of him.
All he wants is a hot shower and to hide from the rest of the world, but instead he’s shoved roughly, Gerard staring down at him with a hateful sneer.
“What the hell were you thinking,” he yells, eyes red and bulging from anger. “This is football not a bar brawl.”
“i….,” Sergio starts, but never gets to finish.
“You don’t get to talk,” Gerard snarls, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re reckless and dangerous. You shouldn’t even be allowed to play.”
“I’m not the only one at fault here,” Sergio snaps, feeling rage start to prickle underneath his skin. “Did you listen to any of the insults those precious teammates of yours were hurling at us?”
“Is that gonna be your defense? The others did it too?”
Sergio squares his shoulders, pushing Gerard’s hand off and readying himself for a fight. “What do you even want from me?”
“Nothing,” Gerard spits out. “I don’t even wanna look at you anymore.” he stomps off before Sergio can answer, leaving him behind in stunned silence.
Their next meeting is strained, eyes barely able to meet after months of silence.
“I think it’s best if we end this before it drags us both down,” Gerard proposes and Sergio wonders if he only imagined the tremble in the other’s voice.
He nods in agreement, his expression motionless even as he feels his heart crumble to pieces, but really what else is there to do when he knows they’ve been playing with fire from the very beginning.
*
Sergio wakes up with his foot asleep and a crick in his neck. The television flickers with the credits of a movie he hardly remembers and Gerard is drooling onto his chest. For a short moment he closes his eyes again, lulled by the soft sounds of Gerard’s snoring, but he knows if he falls asleep again he won’t wake up until morning and his back isn’t made for a night on the sofa anymore, so he nudges Gerard awake and heaves himself off the couch.
“We slept through half of the movie.”
“And it’s all your fault,” Gerard yawns and rubs his eyes. “You’re too damn soft and cuddly.”
“I’m not soft,” Sergio pouts but Gerard only laughs.
“Whatever. I’m going to bed. You coming?”
“In a minute.”
Sergio lets his eyes linger on Gerard’s back for a moment, eyes following him with a smile before he switches off the tv and turns on the alarm system.
When he finally makes it upstairs, he finds Gerard standing in the door of Marco’s and Sasha’s room looking down at their sleeping boys.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Watching them sleep.”
Sergio moves in next to him and rests his head against Gerard’s shoulder. “I miss when they all used to share a room.”
Gerard laughs and winds his arm around Sergio’s waist. “Have you forgotten what a nightmare it was trying to get them to sleep?”
“No,” Sergio shudders. “But it was still fun, like an adventure.”
“We’ve got enough adventure as it is.” Gerard presses a kiss to Sergio’s temple. “Let’s go to bed. I’m dead tired,” but just as he’s about to turn away Marco begins fussing in his bed.
“I got it,” Sergio offers, already lifting Marco into his arms and reaching for a story book. “Go to bed, i’ll join you in a bit.”
*
Madrid, August 19th, 2016
It’s a day like any other when Sergio comes home from training, except that the kids are nowhere to be seen and Pilar is looking at him with a serious expression.
“We need to talk.”
And it’s not like he hasn’t expected it ever since Gerard and Shakira broke up but it still catches him off guard, his stomach suddenly tied in knots.
“You’re not happy,” she says and he doesn’t really have it in him to deny what they both know is the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he offers weakly. “You know i still love you.”
“I know you do,” Pilar sighs. “You just love him more.”
There’s no screaming or fighting, no tears, just a barely there brush of lips, a lingering hug and then she’s gone.
Four hours later he’s close to a breakdown. Marco is screaming at the top of his lungs, his skin flushed red and Sergio’s head is spinning from trying to rock the baby back to sleep while keeping an eye on Junior, who is much to his distress very much awake and full of energy.
Balancing Marco on his hip, he calls the one person almost constantly on his mind.
“What’s up?” Gerard’s voice sounds pleasantly calm on the other end of the line, the exact opposite of how Sergio currently feels.
“I need your help,” he begs.
“I’ll be right there,” Gerard says, without any hesitation whatsoever, even after years of barely speaking and Sergio doesn’t think he’s ever loved him more.
It’s almost three in the morning when Gerard arrives, his own boys fast asleep in his arms and after taking one look at Sergio he hurries to put them down in one of the guest rooms, tucking them in before he lifts Marco from Sergio’s aching arms.
“He’s got a fever,” Sergio offers weakly, barely able to keep his eyes open anymore.
“I know,” Gerard rocks the baby gently. “Sleep. I’ll take care of him.”
When Sergio wakes up the next time it’s already morning, Marco is peacefully asleep between them and Gerard is studying him intently.
“Where’s Pilar?”
“She left me.”
There’s a moment of awkwardness, both of them not knowing where to look, what to say, but then Gerard’s hand searches for his own under the blanket, their fingers lacing tightly and Sergio’s face breaks into a wide smile. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs.
“Me too,” Gerard rubs his thumb lazily across Sergio’s skin. “I missed you.”
*
Gerard already looks mostly asleep when Sergio slides under the covers, all kids finally securely tucked into their beds and fast asleep.
“Wake up, I’ve been meaning to show you something,” he shakes Gerard excitedly, pushing at the waistband of his sweats with a beaming smile as soon as Gerard opens his eyes.
And it would be almost infectious if Gerard wasn’t so damn tired. “if you’re gonna show me your dick. Thanks, but i already know what it looks like,” he groans and buries his face in his pillow, but Sergio only shoves at him more insistently.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he pushes a little more on his pants until most of his right hip is exposed. “Look,” he demands, angling his body so Gerard can properly see the body part in question. There’s a few new lines of swirling ink just on the outside of his right hip bone.
“You got another one?” Gerard frowns at the tender skin, trying to figure out what it’s supposed to say, but half his face his still squished into the pillow. “What are you gonna do when you run out of skin?” he mumbles sleepily, not expecting a serious answer as he drags himself into an upright position finally able to inspect the new artwork properly.
“Remind me why i love you again?” Sergio complains with a pout but his eyes are smiling.
“Because of my captivating personality?”
Sergio sticks out his tongue. “More like because you got a big dick.”
Gerard chuckles. “Shut up and show me that thing so i can finally go to sleep,” he grabs Sergio by the hips and drags him closer. “Did you finally get my name on your ass?”
Sergio furrows his brows. “One day i’m gonna suffocate you in your sleep.”
“You’d miss me terribly.”
“Probably,” Sergio leans up to push their lips together, lingering only briefly before he pulls back again, nudging Gerard in the side until he finally takes a proper look at Sergio’s hip, at the two intricately drawn letters, a G intertwined with an S.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Gerard grins.
“You like it?”
“It’s very you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean now?” Sergio challenges with a smirk.
“Nothing,” Gerard pulls Sergio closer, fingers tracing carefully over the still raw skin. “Just that i love you and that i’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”
Sergio curls into Gerard’s arms, moves in until their noses are touching. “Me too.”
*
Moscow, July 15th, 2018
Sergio has barely gotten a hold of the trophy, glitter and confetti raining down around them when his eyes find Gerard’s. They’re sparkling with happiness, his smile wide and there’s not a single thought on his mind when he pulls Gerard in and kisses him. Straight on the lips. For the whole world to see. And maybe it seemed like a spur of the moment decision, but it really wasn’t, not when a part of him had wanted to do it for a long time.
“Do you think it was worth it?” Sergio asks one night, Gerard looking as exhausted as he feels, after another round of post-game interviews that had nothing to do with football and everything with their relationship. After weeks of media insanity and insults, of constantly being followed around by cameras.
“Do you regret doing it?” Gerard asks instead of an answer, pulls Sergio in until their noses are touching.
Sergio sighs. There was a time when he was convinced that pretending was the only sensible thing to do, even if it made him miserable and incredibly lonely, but with Gerard holding him tight and their boys sleeping peacefully between them, he wouldn’t give up his family for anything in the world.
“No,” he says and he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.
Gerard smiles. “Then you have your answer.”
*
Gerard leans over and fumbles around in the top drawer of his nightstand. “I’ve been meaning to give you something for a while now,” he says and throws a small box at Sergio. “Here.”
Sergio barely manages to catch it, his eyes going wide at the sight of the black velvet box. “Is that…?” he gasps, hands trembling as he opens the lid, at the sight of the gleaming gold band.
“Yes,” Gerard smiles softly, a little shakily.
“It’s beautiful,” Sergio whispers and holds his hand out for Gerard to slide the ring onto his finger, their eyes gleaming with happiness as Sergio pulls Gerard down into a deep kiss.
His smile is blinding when they eventually pull apart. “Can we have a flamenco band at the wedding?”