Work Text:
“Can we order from the new burger place?”
“You don’t want me to cook lunch?”
“No. No- I mean, it’s not like that... I just really want to try these hamburgers. See if they’re better than DC’s.”
Lewandowski teasingly smiles. “If you hate my cooking, you should’ve just said so.” Gavi looks up from his phone worriedly. “I love your cooking!” the older laughs, ruffling his hair. “You better since you’re stuck with it for the week. We’re not ordering junk food every day if that’s what you were hoping for, Gavito.” the boy scoffs. “Of course not. I didn’t think so either.”
It was only the second day of staying over at Lewandowski’s house while Anna and the girls were visiting their grandparents. The man thought it would be a good opportunity to invite Gavi, who took no convincing whatsoever to agree to it. On one hand, it was fun being able to go to training together and hang out after that. On the other, it gave the team all the more reason to tease them about their father-son relationship.
Even if it may or may not be the truth, their teammates would never hear them admit it.
“Lewy, can we please get the burgers?” Gavi begs, putting on his puppy eyes and the striker is forced to look anywhere but in them. Of course, he gives in as always. “Just this once okay?” he hesitantly meets that pleading look with a soft one and the player knows he’s won. “Okay! Thanks da- aaa... Lewa.” he quickly says then jumps off his seat to get to the coach. “I-I’m gonna go order. You want to see the menu?”
“Just get me whatever you’re having...” the man replies looking equally embarrassed. As Gavi takes care of getting their food, Lewandowski sets the table with plates, napkins and a glass of water for both. “Do you want something to drink?” the younger calls from the sofa. “No thanks!” another moment passes where he’s simply tidying the kitchen with nothing better to do.
“Done!” the boy announces which the striker takes as his cue to join him in the living room. “The total is 23,53 euros and it should be here in about fifteen minutes.” the older’s face scrunches in disbelief. “For a couple of burgers?” the player just shrugs, eyes still glued to his phone. “Delivery’s expensive, they’re not that close either. It’ll probably be more than fifteen...”
“TV in the meantime?” Lewandowski suggests. Honestly, anything to get him off his phone though television was equally as bad. “Sure.” Gavi throws his phone on the ground and the older man just stares at him, incredulous. “And you wonder why your phone’s broken...” thankfully the carpet eased its fall so he just picked it up and placed it on the coffee table. “It was an accident! It just dropped out of my hand.”
“Gavi, I just saw you throw it like a a water bottle.”
“Force of habit! It’s fine!”
“There’s holes in your phone!”
“As there should be.”
“You know what I’m talking about. Those aren’t natural.”
“It’s not like I’ll waste money on a new one when it’s perfectly functional as is.”
“That doesn’t mean you should-” Lewandowski sighs in defeat. “You’re almost as stubborn as I am... I get it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Instead of an answer, the striker turns the TV on and just flips through random channels until there’s a brief flash of football which instantly draws Gavi’s attention. “Wait! Stop! Go back-” he leans over to press the button and the other can’t contain his knowing smirk. Of course he would want to watch football, what else is there in this kid’s life?
The man holds back his comment as the midfielder’s practically snatched the remote from his hand to turn up the volume, already completely invested in the game. Gavi’s leaned back into the couch, legs up on the side in a sort of sitting position. Naturally, Lewandowski’s arm wraps around him and he’s more focused on watching his child-like teammate then the actual match. “Who are you rooting for?”
“Félix, obviously.” his eyes never leave the screen, much like the fond look and soft smile never leave the older’s face. “Not that I care about Chelsea, but it’s basically the same as rooting for Barça ‘cause he’s my friend.” then Gavi catches him staring. “Aren’t you watching the match? Who else would I be rooting for?” it’s the younger’s offended expression, mixed between not watching and not rooting, that gets him.
Lewandowski ruffles his hair again with the hand behind him. “Zespół ma rację. Jesteś dla mnie jak syn.” the boy chuckles, a confused smile. “Pff. What?” before the striker even gets a chance to make an excuse, the commentator and cheers grow louder on the television. “Félix scored!” Gavi practically lights up at that, watching the repeat in slow motion. “...I’ll go get the money.”
The older excuses himself with the other barely even noticing. Just as he’s found the right amount of change and come back downstairs, the doorbell rung. “I’ll get it!” he calls out, doubting that the younger would bother with the door anyway (although he does turn the volume down at least). The exchange takes less than a minute and the player’s already walking to the dining table, bag in hand.
“Food’s here!” it doesn’t take more than that for the boy to turn off the tv and practically jump over the sofa in excitement. Lewandowski just shakes his head dismissively. “...Gavi.” he turns from peering into the bag to face him. “...why are there three burgers?” the man slowly asks, suspicious. “Whaaat? Oh, they must’ve messed up the order!” the other doesn’t look convinced.
“Yeah they must’ve, huh? Because I said ‘just this once’, right?”
“Well either that or maybe I accidentally pressed three instead of two... It can happen to anyone!”
“Mhm. I’m sure you wouldn’t order two burgers... right, Pablo?”
The boy flinches at the mention of his name and rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. “Pablo...”
“Okay, fine! They looked small in the picture so I got two for myself!”
Lewandowski sighs then takes the burgers out of the bag. “Gavi, these are huge. You can’t eat two.”
“But I’m hungry! ...and I’m still developing!” excuses.
“You shouldn’t overeat. I’m telling you this as a fa- ...friend. Whether an athlete or ordinary person, no one should eat this much greasy junk food in a day...”
“Lewy, I’ll be fine. You think I can’t eat two burgers?”
“That wasn’t a challenge, Gavi...”
“I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.”
“And deal with the consequences?”
The younger rolls his eyes making him rub his temple out of frustration, but ultimately give up. “I’ll be fine.”
Silence settles in as Lewandowski doesn’t comment on it further.”MMMM!!” he looks over at Gavi, who’s face is lit up again much like it was upon seeing the scored goal from Félix. “Thisissogoodohmygoddd” the man smiles. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” a fatherly reminder, he must admit. The player gives him an apologetic look, carefully chewing and swallowing.
“These burgers are even better than DC’s!” he then says. “Are they?” the stiker replies softly. To him, it just tastes the same as any other hamburger. “The bun is sweeter, too.” Gavi nods and rapidly starts to explain the differences and similarities in between taking bites. Lewandowski listens, enjoying one of the rarer moments when the boy actually talks a lot about something that isn’t football.
Before the older’s even finished, the midfielder is already grabbing his second one. “You can leave it for later...?” he attempts to talk him out of it again, but Gavi just shakes his head. “I would be thinking about it all day.” Lewandowski once again sighs, defeated, a sad smile in place. “Alright.” he finishes his meal and starts cleaning. In the meantime, the younger finishes the second one even faster than his first.
The man then takes his plate as well, setting away the bag and throwing away the trash. “So...” the midfielder starts, but doesn’t say anything else after that. “So...?” the other glances back. “Movie?” the striker chuckles. “Isn’t it a bit too early for that?” Gavi shrugs in response. “We can watch more than one?” Lewandowski laughs. “What?” he shakes his head with a grin. “I just can’t imagine you sitting still for so long.”
“Lewy, I’m not some hyperactive child. I can watch a movie without moving.”
“And without scrolling on your phone?”
“...of course!?”
“Mhm.”
“You don’t believe me...”
“Regarding this, no.”
“Then I’ll prove it to you! Pick a movie.”
“Gavi, not everything is a challenge...”
“Pick a genre.”
“...”
“Fine, I’ll choose it myself.”
As Lewandowski’s tidying up, the boy sets up a movie on the tv. He brings a blanket and extra pillows, making sure he would be comfortable. All the while, the striker has his back turned, though clearly hearing the shuffling. He steals a glance here and there, but this was as much Gavi’s home as it was his so he doesn’t expect or need to give permission. Lastly, he takes his favourite soda and the older’s favourite beverage.
The player sits on the sofa, taking in the setup. “Ooh, one more thing!” the midfielder says after placing their drinks down on the table. More rummaging sounds are heard then... “Are you making popcorn?” he looks back at him, innocently. “You can’t watch a movie without a bowl of popcorn!” Lewandowski sends him a scolding look, but ultimately ends the conversation before it could begin.
The boy sits on the other end and presses start.
***
It was about twenty minutes into the movie when Gavi placed the bowl down. Luckily, it was a medium-sized one and only a little over halfway full. Of course, it was now practically empty. Just a few minutes later and Lewandowski could already see the squirming start. The midfielder was pretty much restless, it was a known fact on the team - one which the player himself seemed to deny, though it was blatantly obvious.
The striker probably spent more time watching him in his peripheral then the actual movie, much like with the match earlier. It started with him shifting his legs criss-cross. A bit later he covered himself with a blanket, putting his legs up on the couch. After that, it was progressively getting closer to Lewandowski by one slow movement at a time. All the while, the older had a knowing smirk on his face.
There was no use in proving the younger wrong. In fact, he much rather enjoyed watching the scene unfold just as he knew it would. The most endearing part was probably the fact that Gavi always did it unconsciously (not that this particular scenario was a recurring one). It was very similar to what his daughters did which made it that more adorable when his so- when his teammate did it.
His head leaned against the older’s shoulder when close enough to do so and that was Lewandowski’s cue. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him just a little bit closer into his chest so that he could rest under his ‘wing’. Then, he pulled the blanket up more comfortably around both of them and felt Gavi relax aganst him. ‘Just like with the girls...’ he thought, leaning his head on the other’s.
Surprisingly, the midfielder, in fact, did not move at all after that and the striker didn’t know if he should be proud or confused. “You alright?” he whispered, trying to lean forward to get a better look at him. ‘Did he fall asleep?’ at the same time, his hand rubbed his back. “No.” Lewandowski wasn’t sure which was more alarming - a straight answer or the meaning of the reply itself.
“What’s wrong?” the man asked concerned, turning the boy to face him.
“I’m...” he stops mid sentence, embarrassed.
“...nauseous?” the player finishes for him, softly.
Gavi carefully nods in return.
“Stomach hurts, too.”
Lewandowski sighs - he had known the outcome from the beginning. However, there’s no ‘I told you so.’ or ‘You should’ve listened to me.’ just a sympathetic look that, frankly, he didn’t deserve. The midfielder wants to say as much too, but a grimace appears instead when he feels his stomach churn. The two share a look, before the player gets up to his feet. “Try and hold it in while I find a bag or something.”
The man hurriedly storms around the kitchen, looking for something he could give to the younger that he could dispose of later. Ironically, he quickly remembers the paper bag from the delivery and brings it just in time for Gavi to vomit those two hamburgers, or what remained of them, into it. Meanwhile, the older silently rubs his back - really the only thing that he can do.
“I should’ve listened to you...” is the first thing that the boy says after emptying out his stomach. “What’s done is done.” Lewandowski quietly comments. “You think you can make it to the toilet? Unfortunately, this bag is for one time use only...” and it was already starting to get soggy. Gavi nods, though clearly looking unsure of it. The striker steadily guides him to the bathroom where he washes his face.
After throwing the barf bag outside in the trash can, the man brings him a glass of water which the player gratefully accepts. “Slow sips.” the other softly reminds, hand reassuringly resting on his shoulder. When he’s finished with the water, Lewandowski goes to return the glass to the kitchen. Gavi follows, focusing on taking small steps to sit at the dining table. The older sits next to him, facing each other.
Silence fills the room, the only noise being the living room tv with the forgotten movie playing in the background. The striker just watches as the younger stares down at his knees, expression unchanging. “Better?” he hesitantly asks. The boy doesn’t reply which he takes for a ‘no’. A little while later, he suddenly jolts and makes a beeline for the bathroom. Lewandowski frowns, following close behind.
The retching noises are worse than the smell in his opinion, but there’s nothing more horrible than the dry heaving. Seeing the poor boy, kneeling on the floor and slumped on the toilet with his hair a mess breaks his heart. The older crouches next to him, hand on his back again to rub circles for support. Because what else could he do other than to offer his support?
It seems to help as Gavi slowly relaxes. That seemed to be the last of it and just a couple minutes later, the midfielder flushes the toilet in confirmation and both of them respectfully stand up. “Fuck...” Lewandowski doesn’t react. The player turns to face him. “Sorry...” He’s not sure if the apology was for the curse or the incident itself, but he can’t bring himself to care either way.
“It’s alright. Do you still feel sick?”
“Not really... but my stomach still hurts.”
“We should go on a walk.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“It’ll help, I promise.”
“Lewa, I’ll puke.”
“You just said you weren’t nauseous anymore?”
“That doesn’t mean I can play football right now!?”
“Do you trust me?” Lewandowski softly asks, making Gavi frown.
“That’s a stupid question, isn’t it?” the man smiles and it warms his heart more than he’d like to admit.
“Then just a bit of movement. It’ll make you feel better.”
“If you say so...”
***
The walk helps Gavi’s stomach to settle and by the time night falls, he’s feeling a lot better. Lewandowski prepares a light supper for him which takes a lot of convincing for the boy to actually eat. Fortunately, he doesn’t throw up anymore after the bathroom, but it doesn’t stop the striker from staying by his side for the rest of the day and the midfielder has to all but shoo him out of the room when going to bed.
“Are you sure?”
“For the thirtieth time Lewa, I’m alright now.”
“I don’t mind staying up.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“I think I should keep an eye on you just in case... So you don’t throw up on the bed.”
And that was when Lewandowski proved to be more stubborn than Gavi.
‘Is this how he feels all the time?’
“All of this because of some burgers...” he muttered in defeat.
“Now you know for next time - one hamburger is more than enough.” the man smiles.
“There might not be a 'next time'. I think I'm done with burgers for a while.” the two laugh albeit a bit awkwardly.
“Well, good night… son…”
“Goodnight… dad.”
They share a soft smile.
If the team were there, they'd never stop bringing it up.