Chapter Text
Marcelo wasn’t particularly observant. He was a man of action. Liked to partake in the joke and laugh uncontrollably at the expense of his friends’ pride.
There were some things that he did notice though. The way his youngest son’s voice went quiet when he lied about brushing his teeth in the morning. The off taste of his coffee when he poured closer to one tablespoon of milk rather than his usual two.
After playing in the same club and stadium for ten years, Marcelo had even come to notice how the plastic seats on the north side stands would pale and whither from the sun faster than those on the south side.
Although Marcelo considered himself quite the social butterfly, able to bond rapidly with any teammate. He wouldn’t say he spent much time in the locker room or on the pitch trying to catch the ups and downs of his teammates’ interpersonal relationships.
He was more likely to show them basic samba steps or monopolize the speaker in the gym to put on his reggaeton playlist.
As such, Marcelo tended to learn the team ‘gossip’ from other - more attentive - players.
In order to get the scoop, Lucas, Nacho and Carvajal were usually decent options. Kroos knew everybody’s secrets, but his lips were sealed, even when Marcelo gave him his best puppy eyes. Cristiano was too focused on himself. Marcelo was actually the one who spilled the juicy info he had gathered whenever they sat together on the bus.
But some things. Some things were just impossible to not notice!
“Luka Luka Luka Luka Luka,” Marcelo heard Sergio call the blonde midfielder like an impatient child wanting their parent’s attention while they’re on the phone.
Luka was evidently involved in a passing drill with Casemiro and Toni but still glanced in the direction of Sergio’s voice, making his soft hair bounce like it would in any good shampoo commercial.
Sergio was already sauntering over to Luka. It seemed as though he’d just finished his stretching break with a few of the younger players.
Luka’s attention was already back on the repetitive passing drill when Sergio reached him and picked him up from behind, the Spaniard hooking his arms under Luka’s armpits. Luka missed the ball that Casemiro sent his way, thanks to his feet now floating in the air.
Five, four, three, two, one, Marcelo counted down in his head the moment when Luka would wiggle himself free from Sergio’s grasp and start lecturing their captain for interrupting their work.
But he made it to zero and found that Luka had simply been dropped back on the grass, only to turn around and face Sergio with a toothy smile.
Huh!?
Luka even went in for a second embrace, placing the tip of his shoes on Sergio’s and letting his head rest on the other’s shoulder. Sergio was whispering something in Luka’s ear, making Luka roll his eyes. Still, the blonde’s lips were curling up as he replied, pinching Sergio’s hip.
“Sergio, can you go make yourself useful? We were in the middle of something,” Toni was almost tapping his foot with impatience.
The captain raised his hand as a small apologetic gesture, “Alright, alright.”
Marcelo pondered about the meaning of this. It was a known fact - even to the fans - that Sergio and Luka were good friends.
However. This was something else. This was Luka Modrić being biased.
Since when was anyone allowed to disrupt him during an exercise and get away with it without a single sign of reprimand? Marcelo bit the inside of his cheek and glared at the blur of people moving on the pitch.
Sergio Ramos - the exception to that rule - pulled Marcelo out of his own head as he sprinted towards him and executed a clean slide tackle into the empty space beside him.
“Think we should rally the other defenders to get started,” Sergio stated casually. As if he hadn’t just defied the laws of nature!
“Right,” Marcelo agreed. “I believe everyone should be here now.”
There were more important things to tend to at this moment.
The water was nice and cold as it washed off the dirt and sweat sticking to his skin. Marcelo was using the showers with no stalls because he didn’t want to wait in the queue of rookies who preferred to shower in privacy.
Marcelo giggled to himself. They were basically all too shy to shower in front of players they considered as their idols. What a silly bunch!
In his peripheral vision, Marcelo saw two figures strutting to the unoccupied shower heads to his left.
Of course, it was none other than Ramos and Modrić bickering, “Lukita, please. You promised me you’d let me do it the next time I blocked your shot.”
“Yeah, I remember, but not here. It’s too weird. The guys would make fun of us for the rest of the season.”
What the hell are they talking about?
Marcelo kind of wished he was invisible. Not in the creepy pervert kind of way, but as the nosy best friend who wants insight on whatever action could’ve gone down had he not been in their presence.
Thankfully, Sergio, unlike Luka, had no self-respect and was willing to divulge to Marcelo the elusive topic of their conversation.
With a towel wrapped around his waist and his arms crossed over his chest, Sergio demanded, “Marcelo, please tell Luka that it wouldn’t be weird for him to let me wash his hair in front of you.”
His fingers which were massaging the shampoo out of his hair had come to halt. “And why would I do that?”
“See!” Luka exclaimed.
“Oh c’mon,” Sergio pleaded. “He won’t care, and I’ll pay him to keep his mouth shut. Whatever amount. I don’t care.”
As Sergio uttered these words, Lucas and Nacho walked in from the locker room.
“Not now. And that’s final,” Luka insisted, glaring at Sergio who seemed to have finally relinquished the fact that his desire to wash Luka’s hair wouldn’t be fulfilled today.
A part of him was grateful that he didn’t have to witness that. Another part of him wondered when and where they would make this happen.
“Hey! Look there’s a rainbow on your thigh!” Marcelo pointed out the refraction and dispersion of light from the glass window that landed on the Croat sitting next to him.
His cheerful comment went right over Luka’s head thanks to the bad mood hanging in the air of the Real Madrid locker room. They’d just lost a game that they had been leading at half time. No one was tougher on anyone than the players themselves, but some teammates were a little more cutting in their resentment for poor plays, lost battles, and turnovers.
Luka was sour like vinegar after games like this.
“That second goal shouldn’t have happened,” the blonde grumbled under his breath. The worst part of this was that Luka’s assessment was correct. Marcelo had been looking at the ball instead of the man behind him and that cost them precious points in the ranking.
He was about to pinch Luka on the side and call him out for a bad play of his own when Sergio nudged himself between them and hooked an arm behind Luka, catching him in a headlock of sorts.
Sergio nuzzled his nose in Luka’s hair, “Oi Luka, don’t give Marcelo too much trouble. I should’ve intercepted that pass and Keylor fumbled the save. We all played like shit that second half.”
“Don’t worry Sese, I was coming for you next,” Luka muttered, but Marcelo was astonished when he spotted Luka’s frown softening and a tiny smile etching itself on his face.
Sergio was already getting up to go back to his spot, letting his hand linger a second longer on Luka’s neck, “Yeah, yeah. You’ve probably already got everything written on a list somewhere. I’ll be happy to listen to you rant on the bus, but just save it for the others okay. Coach will take care of it.”
Marcelo could justify this and say that Sergio’s captaincy skills were just beyond reproach. But he could also point out the obvious explanation which was that Sergio Ramos and Luka Modrić had their own set of rules for themselves.
The hallway was dark with just the emergency exit sign emitting a red glow above the door at the end of it. Marcelo checked his phone a second time to read the text where Sergio gave him his room number.
Nothing wrong in double checking.
The two had wanted to review the video compilation of their adversary’s offense tactics which they had watched during training earlier today. Marcelo had forgotten his computer at home, so Sergio invited him to his and Luka’s hotel room after dinner so they could watch it together on his laptop screen.
Just a few steps further, Marcelo found the number he was looking for. As he was about to knock on the door, he heard two muffled voices coming from inside the room.
“Stop! Sergio! You just said Marcelo would arrive anytime now!”
“Luka, why do you always have to push me away?” Marcelo sighed at Sergio’s dramatics. He could only imagine the embarrassing face the Spaniard was making for Luka.
“I don’t! And you’re the one who insisted we keep this on the low. I’m just making sure one of us makes this seem believable.”
A silence stretched between the pair behind the closed door. Marcelo felt a little bad for eavesdropping on a very private conversation.
“Just another kiss and then we stop. You always find a way to ruin my hair in the process and I need to look a minimum presentable,” Luka sounded like he was sulking.
The Brazilian decided to be a good friend and let them have their moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep a straight face when he’d finally find the courage to knock and walk in to meet them.
Marcelo wasn’t particularly observant. But some things. Some things were just impossible to not notice!