Work Text:
The other players at Manchester United welcome Rasmus Hojlund with open arms. He’s one of the most polite and friendliest players that the club have seen in a long time, and that may be attributable to his Scandinavian upbringing. He shakes hands with every player, a warm smile plastered onto his face; and when he begins to approach Alejandro, his smile intensifies by tenfold.
He is very tall, Alejandro observes. His cheeks are ruddy and dotted with acne scars. He has honest, azure eyes and soft, golden hair. While his height is intimidating, his face and his aura are not.
“Hi,” Rasmus says, extending his hand. His voice wavers a little bit, and Alejandro realises that he must be nervous; which made sense, after all, this is Rasmus’ first time meeting the other players at his new club.
“Hello,” the Argentinian answers, nonchalant. He takes the new player’s hand in his own. It’s slightly bigger than his, soft to the touch, and a bit clammy. “Good to have you here.”
“I used to watch you on TV all the time,” the blond continues enthusiastically. “The way you pass, the way you score, the way you celebrate… I admire everything about you!”
Alejandro is taken aback, having never known a teammate that practically idolises him. He’s almost speechless for a moment, but manages eventually to form a brief reply. “Really?”
“Yes. I want to be able to perform at your level while I’m here, so make sure to teach me everything that you do!”
He raises an eyebrow, but nods hesitantly anyway. Rasmus flashes him one last cordial smile before shaking hands with the next player.
What Alejandro doesn’t know is that Rasmus’ heart is beating wildly. The Dane is still trying to come to terms with the unbelievable fact that he had just shaken hands with Alejandro Garnacho, a man that he knows is so talented, so passionate, and so, so, so beautiful.
It’s true that Rasmus has known about Alejandro for a long time, although this was one-sided. Even while playing for Atalanta, he had always watched Manchester United games in his free time or during his personal exercise sessions, being a fan of the club himself. It was in the spring of 2022 when he watched the debut of the brand new Argentinian player at Old Trafford, donned in that famous red jersey with the surname “Garnacho” adorned on the back of it. From that moment onwards, Alejandro played with such grace and such skill that it was more than easy for Rasmus to quickly fall in love with him.
When he heard the news of Manchester United being interested in signing him, he was completely delighted. Of course, he would now be able to play for his dream club, but it also meant that he would be playing alongside so much raw talent.
As soon as Rasmus had walked into the changing room and caught sight of Alejandro, conversing with Lisandro, he felt as though time had stood still. He couldn’t take his eyes off him; and at that moment, he realised that Alejandro looked even more beautiful in real life than on the screen of his television.
And being able to touch the Argentinian player, to shake his hand; it didn’t feel real, and Rasmus wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. His hand was so warm and tender, his grip firm yet comfortable, and his smile was so charming; there were no other words that could quite describe it.
Rasmus continues to shake hands with every player, but he longs desperately to return to Alejandro. He wants to talk to him. He wants to touch him. He wants to play with him. The Dane gazes at Alejandro as he shakes hands with Harry, who’s talking to him about something, but Rasmus isn’t sure what; he hasn’t been listening. At some point, Alejandro connects his eyes with his, and Rasmus turns his attention back to Harry swiftly.
“--And I hope you’ll have a good time training with us,” Harry smiles benevolently. As expected of the former captain of the club.
“Thank you very much,” Rasmus answers politely, wondering if Alejandro’s eyes are still fixed on him.
…
“What a beautiful training ground!” Rasmus exclaims to Alejandro, who jerks with surprise. The Argentinian was initially walking to the pitch alone, and did not expect to hear the Dane’s enthusiastic voice beside him.
“Yes, it’s a great facility,” Alejandro replies. He knows that he has a duty to be kind to the new player, even if he isn’t particularly fond of him.
“Have you taken Rasmus under your wing, Ale?” Bruno chimes in, grinning at the two players. “Good, you two can train together. In fact, you should be his mentor for a while. I’m sure Ras would appreciate it.”
“Huh?” Alejandro is stunned. They had only spoken for a minute or two. Rasmus, on the other hand, is visibly delighted, a bright smile plastered onto his face as he quickly turns his head to Alejandro with excitement.
“Thank you!” The Dane exclaims, full of gratitude, taking Alejandro’s hand in his. The Argentinian glares at their interlocked hands in confusion. “I’m glad to hear that you’ll be my mentor.”
“...Okay,” Alejandro feels opposed to the idea, but he has the decency not to vocalise this. He had rather wanted to focus on his own improvement and to train independently, and there are better players to be Rasmus’ ‘mentor,’ such as Marcus, for instance.
But he figures that having someone new by his side can't be so bad. Rasmus would surely, eventually, drift away to train on his own. They walk onto the pitch of the training ground together when Alejandro realises they are still holding each other’s hands. He promptly tugs his own hand away.
“Let’s first warm ourselves up!” Shouts their coach. “Start jogging.”
It comes as no surprise to Alejandro when he catches Rasmus standing right beside him, still grinning from ear to ear. He’s already begun warming up, jogging on the spot and encouraging the Argentinian to do the same.
Alejandro sighs, exasperated. It seems that the Dane would be glued to him permanently for the next few hours of training.
…
Rasmus had been more attached to Alejandro than he could have ever imagined. Not only was he inseparable during training, but he copied almost everything that the Argentinian did. The same warm ups, the same drills, the same break intervals… The coaches seemed to have no issue with it, and despite Alejandro’s glaring hints that he wanted to train alone, Rasmus seemed to be completely oblivious to them.
“What stamina and strength you have!” Rasmus smiles, wrapping an arm around the Argentinian as they make their way back to the changing room. Alejandro finds the physical contact unwelcome, but he makes no attempt to move himself away. “It was an honour to train with you, Alejandro. I can’t wait for next time.”
“Me neither,” he replies, disinterested.
“Was I good?” Rasmus asks. This startles Alejandro; why was he asking for his validation? During training, he should only focus on himself. Not what others thought of him.
They walk in silence for a minute or two longer, but Rasmus is still gazing at the other expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Yes,” Alejandro sighs. “You were great.”
Then the Dane’s eyes light up brightly, and his lips tug into a wide smile. He looks as though he had just scored the winning goal in a Champions League final.
As soon as they step into the changing rooms, Alejandro does his best to quickly pick up his belongings and leave the room as soon as he possibly can. He doesn’t need Rasmus to follow him home too.
“Aren’t you taking Rasmus with you?” Bruno jeers in a low voice, cocking his head towards the Dane when Alejandro glares at the captain in fury.
“What?”
“Oh, come on. He likes you. Haven’t you seen the way he followed you around today, like a little puppy?”
“Like a golden retriever,” Case specifies, trying to conceal a grin. “Same attributes, same appearance…”
“Did you wait for me?” The Argentinian turns to see Rasmus standing behind him, bag slung over his shoulder, ready to leave. “Thank you! That’s really kind of you.”
Boludo, Alejandro curses under his breath. If Bruno and Case hadn’t stopped him, he could have easily been in his car by now.
From the corner of his eye, he catches the Portuguese and the Brazilian smirking at each other. He wants to strike both of their faces with his fist.
“What are you going to do now?” Rasmus strikes up a conversation as they walk through the doors of the training grounds.
Alejandro isn’t in the mood for talking, still bothered by his teammates’ teasing. But he supposes that he can’t really take out his anger on the Dane.
“I’m just going to take care of myself until the match on Sunday.”
“Then I’ll do the same,” Rasmus nods. He’s still imitating everything that Alejandro does.
“Okay, whatever.” Alejandro’s scoffs. His voice slips and he sounds a bit too hostile, as he watches Rasmus wince slightly from his words. Nonetheless, the Dane feebly waves goodbye and they soon part ways.
Alejandro feels a twinge of guilt in his chest, but he quickly dismisses it and makes his way to his car anyway. He can apologise later; and he has the match on the weekend to worry about. Not Rasmus.
It had been an exceptionally poor, disgraceful game.
An early goal from Marcus Rashford buzzed adrenaline in the veins of every Manchester United player, but it was a goal from Martin Odegaard only a minute later that had quickly destroyed their high spirits. If that hadn’t been bad enough, two clean goals during extra time was sure to completely wipe out any hopes of securing the three points – or even one point, for that matter – that they had any chance of earning themselves.
There’s one more thing that really crushed the players’ hearts; the fact that it was Rasmus’ debut game. He was subbed in during the 67th minute with the hopes he could score a winning goal. But that didn’t happen.
No one could really blame him, but they all knew, deep down, that there would be cynical comments from rival fans and the media about his mediocre performance and the terrible scoreline.
Alejandro feels immeasurable anger himself. He could have scored, but he was deemed supposedly ‘offside.’ He could have made it a narrow defeat instead of a crushing one. He could have played better. They could have won if they tried harder.
But he knows that the disappointment he feels is in no way comparable to how Rasmus was feeling. He watches him trudging down the tunnel, his fists clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed tightly. It’s strange to see him like this. The Argentinian was half expecting him to be chatting to him in a frenzy, like he always does, but seeing the Dane like this fills Alejandro with sympathy instead.
He approaches the blond, placing a hand on his taller shoulder. “Rasmus?”
He turns to face Alejandro. His expression seems angry, and he seems as though he wants to be left alone. Alejandro has never seen this side of Rasmus before.
“Are you alright?” The Argentinian asks. “Don’t take this defeat to heart, okay?”
The Dane doesn’t reply, instead prying himself out of Alejandro’s grip and continuing his trek down the tunnel.
Alejandro is truly surprised, but then he supposes that he shouldn't be. It’s Rasmus’ first game, and he would definitely have liked to have a better, more spectacular debut than the one he had today. He runs a hand through his hair before he follows Rasmus into the changing rooms, bracing himself. The mood would surely be desolate in there.
…
On the coach, Alejandro spots Rasmus sitting by the window, his miserable expression reflecting itself in the glass. He’s wearing headphones, and seems to be deep in thought. The Argentinian makes no hesitation in sitting down next to him.
Rasmus notices the seat now occupied by Alejandro, and turns to face him. This time, he takes off his headphones and smiles weakly.
“Sorry for earlier,” The Dane apologises softly.
“What do you mean?”
“You tried to comfort me in the tunnel, but I ignored you. I can’t believe I behaved that way, I’m really sorry for being so rude.”
Of course; Alejandro should have expected this thoughtfulness and care from the Dane. He might be clingy and infuriating at times, but he always has good nature.
“No need to apologise,” he answers kindly. “I know how you feel. My own debut wasn’t so good either, I-”
“I know,” Rasmus interjects. “Versus Chelsea. You were subbed on during extra time, in the 91st minute, to replace Elanga. It resulted in a draw.”
Alejandro is stunned. His mouth hangs open before he’s able to form words. “How did you know that?”
“I know a lot about you,” he replies timidly. “Don’t you remember what I told you? I used to watch you on TV all the time…”
“Ah. Yes, I remember. That’s not something I can forget.”
“Anyways, I was initially angry with myself about my poor performance, but then I thought of you.”
“Me?” He blinks in wonder.
“Your debut was similarly poor to mine, but look at you now, Alejandro. I’m sure that after a season or two, I’ll be a great player just like you. So I’m not as frustrated as I was earlier; I’ll just make sure to work harder.”
Alejandro gazes to Rasmus in amazement, before grinning. “Well, I’m glad that I was able to make you feel better, somehow.”
They chat to one another on the bus ride, and Alejandro finds himself paying great attention to Rasmus’ recollections of his experiences while playing at Atalanta. He talks about the time they won against Salernitana with a score of 8-2, the time they won a friendly against Crema 10-0, and the time they won 5-2 when they played Spezia in the Coppa Italia; all games in which Rasmus had scored at least once, and Alejandro would be lying if he said that he wasn’t impressed.
“Playing in Serie A seems fun,” The Argentinian hums after listening intently to Rasmus’ passionate rambling.
“I suppose, but it’s not nearly as fun as the Premier League!” He laughs in reply. “Anyway, tell me what it was like to play for Atlético Madrid.”
“It was only the U19 academy. I didn’t play any league games, like you did.”
“I don’t mind. I still want to know everything.”
“If you insist, well… we won the Copa de Campeones once. Against Sporting de Gijón.”
“That’s cool! Tell me more!”
The hours pass like minutes, and before they know it, they’re back in Manchester. Alejandro and Rasmus continue conversing as they exit the coach, and he realises that the Dane makes good company on long journeys. It’s something that he makes sure to remember for the next bus ride or plane journey.
...
Rasmus’ performance steadily improves with every game, despite the occasional loss. His form while playing Champions League matches was truly exceptional, and Alejandro can’t stop himself from patting Rasmus on the back or embracing his larger frame every time the Dane scores a goal. He always did so with such grace and such passion.
He is still clingy, but Alejandro no longer seems to mind. They talk all the time; and they seem to always find themselves within each other’s company. The other players have noticed their blossoming friendship by now, understanding that Alejandro and Rasmus are practically inseparable.
They’re on the plane to Copenhagen, and Rasmus is sitting by the window. He looks to be nervous; his chin is resting on his hand, and his knee is bouncing anxiously.
“Are you okay?” Alejandro asks, resting a hand on the other’s back.
“Hm?” He turns his head to look at the Argentinian, and quickly smiles. “Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Well…” He sighs. “I know that this isn’t our first game against Copenhagen. But I still feel so nervous about playing against them. It’s probably because I know that I graduated from their academy. I feel guilty.”
“Ras, you have nothing to feel guilty for,” Alejandro assures him softly. “I know you are in a tough position, but just try to focus on getting the win for our club. It’s the Champions League, you know that we can’t let sentiment get in the way now.”
Rasmus nods forlornly, taking his phone out of his pocket to check the time. They are an hour away from landing in Denmark, mid-way through their flight.
“Hey, is that CR7?” Alejandro asks eagerly, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, pointing at the wallpaper of Rasmus’ phone.
“Yeah,” he grins in reply, showing the Argentinian his home screen.
“We have the same wallpaper!” He exclaims, pulling out his own phone, and indeed, it displays exactly the same home screen as Rasmus: a picture of Cristiano Ronaldo standing on the pitch of Old Trafford, his back to the camera, donned in his iconic Manchester United jersey emblazoned with his last name and the number 7 below it.
“Well, I’m a huge fan of Ronaldo. He is my favourite player of all time, after all,” Rasmus continues. “I’m jealous that you were able to play alongside him at Old Trafford.”
“It’s definitely one of the greatest moments of my life, being able to play with him,” Alejandro smiles, reminiscing. “But, of course, I also enjoy playing with you.”
Rasmus was clearly not expecting such an answer, as he remains speechless for a moment, but then his lips break into a kind smile and he wraps an arm around Alejandro’s shoulder, who leans into the embrace.
“I really enjoy playing with you, too.”
The relationship between the two young players only develops further on and off the pitch, as they became more relaxed and intimate around one another. Before they know it, they’re so overwhelmed with passion and fervour that they would, at times, kiss each other.
Of course, the kisses are platonic.
The kisses between them are entirely platonic.
They kiss to express unspoken words of gratitude, because sometimes you simply don’t have the time to express yourself through words.
At least, that’s what Alejandro convinces himself in his mind.
He’s not sure if the kisses are going to be a problem, or if he actually enjoys them. The cameras love it, the commentators love it, the fans love it. Rasmus seems to love it too. The look on his face each time Alejandro leaves a gentle kiss on his tender cheek is unforgettable, his face lighting up like a content little puppy.
Golden retriever, the others call him. The nickname does suit him very well, Alejandro thinks.
But it’s dangerous, what he and Rasmus are doing. He knows this; he knows that the standards in the world of football are extremely high. They can’t fool around with each other like this.
And that’s exactly what Alejandro tells Rasmus when he tries to kiss him in the empty locker room after their home game against Chelsea.
The locker room had been vacant as Alejandro decided to take a lengthy shower after the game, and Rasmus insisted taking one too, as a result. Still inseparable from each other.
When they finish drying themselves off and getting changed into more comfortable clothing, Alejandro suddenly feels a pair of strong arms snake themselves around his waist. It’s a romantic, slow gesture, and the Argentinian feels heat rush to his cheeks. This is crossing the boundary that had been placed between them, between what was allowed and what wasn’t. This definitely wasn’t allowed.
Rasmus’ warm breath envelops Alejandro’s ear, his lips gently brushing over his sensitive skin. It sends shivers down his spine.
Then, he’s whispering something. “You played well today, Ale.”
When Alejandro doesn’t reply, Rasmus brings a hand to lift Alejandro’s chin so that they’re facing each other, and then the Dane is slowly leaning in to close the distance between them. Their lips would meet any second now. It’s going to be a real kiss. It’s going to be the kind of kiss that they aren’t allowed to have in front of the cameras.
And, just for a moment, Alejandro considers closing his eyelids and leaning upwards so that they could just kiss already. But then he begins to register the gravity of the situation he’s in, and his conscience takes over immediately.
“We can’t fool around with each other like this!” The Argentinian exclaims, forcefully prying himself out of the Dane’s embrace. “Don’t you understand? You and me, we’re football players. We can’t do this kind of thing, Rasmus.”
The Dane remains silent, watching Alejandro warily.
“No one has to know,” Rasmus says eventually, taking a step closer to the other.
Alejandro becomes hesitant. Deep down, he knows that he wants him badly. He knows that over the months of knowing Rasmus Hojlund, he had fallen in love with him. He fell in love with his passion, his sincerity, his devotion. The way that Rasmus smiles at him is different from the way he smiles at the cameras: when he smiles at Alejandro, it’s full of love, it’s warm, and it’s unmistakably genuine. When the Dane touches him, Alejandro feels his heart beat a little bit faster, even if it’s just a brief hug or a hand ruffling his hair.
He thinks back to the first time he had met Rasmus, their first training session together. Alejandro had initially been hostile and ignorant towards him, yet how their relationship has flourished since then. Rasmus’ patience is truly commendable.
No; it wasn’t patience. It was love. It all makes sense to Alejandro now.
Rasmus had been in love with Alejandro since the beginning.
Their first handshake in the changing rooms, where Rasmus had been so nervous. When he followed him around during their first training session. The fact that Rasmus knows every single detail about his football career. The hints were all there; Alejandro had just been completely oblivious to them.
“Rasmus,” Alejandro begins to say, hesitantly. “You… You have liked me for a long time, haven’t you?”
The Dane smiles affectionately in response. “Yeah. Now you’ve realised.”
Alejandro wants Rasmus, and he knows this. The thought of being lovers with the Dane greatly appeals to him: the thought of being able to kiss as him as he liked, and not just for the cameras and the fans. Having someone to confide to, and not just about football, but about anything and everything. Being able to spend every minute of every day together, and not just on the training ground or on the pitch.
Before he knows it, Alejandro reaches for Rasmus’ cheek, caressing his mellow skin with his thumb. Rasmus takes Alejandro’s hand in his own, bringing his knuckles to his warm lips. Then, when he lowers their intertwined fingers, Alejandro closes the distance between them so that their lips meet in a gentle kiss.
It’s a foreign sensation, yet it it feels so right. Even though it’s supposed to feel wrong. They shouldn’t be doing this.
But Rasmus’ lips are so soft and warm, that Alejandro doesn’t seem to care anymore. Rasmus places a hand on the other’s waist, drawing themselves closer together.
“Dios mío,” Alejandro whispers on the Dane’s lips, craving more. He wants to kiss for hours, until their lips become sore. He wants to feel Rasmus’ mouth on his skin, his hands exploring every inch of his body.
“Do you want to continue this elsewhere?” Rasmus asked in a low tone, resting both of his hands on Alejandro’s hips. “I guess the locker room isn’t the most ideal place.”
Alejandro understands the implications of Rasmus’ suggestion, and the mere thought of it excites him. He places another tender kiss on the Dane’s lips. “My place? It’s closer.”