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Fabinho hadn’t thought twice when he’d seen Firmino on the team sheet for the first time since November. Even though his fellow Brazilian had started on the bench, Fabinho decided that inviting Firmino to his house for some one-on-one time was a great way to celebrate him playing again.
Of course, like all great plans, there were steps to be taken so that they would go well. And the first step Fabinho had to take was simple…deceptively simple.
Alisson had been over the moon to see Firmino again as well. And while Fabinho’s excitement was diverted somewhat by planning he and Firmino’s night in, Alisson had wrapped his arms around Firmino, refusing to let go.
“Deus meu Ali, let Bobby have some breathing room!” Fabinho commented. He watched as Alisson swept Firmino off his feet for the third time since they’d left the pitch. “The poor thing can’t even breathe.”
Alisson froze as soon as he heard the last part, gently setting Firmino down and even ruffling his hair for good measure. “Desculpe, I’m just so excited! We’re going to be the Three Brazilians again!”
“We always were the Three Brazilians,” Firmino pointed out. He quickly attached himself to Fabinho before Alisson could hug him again. “But now I’m back from injury and Flaco’s playing as central defensive midfield again, so we’re three on the pitch.”
Fabinho rolled his eyes at the nickname, making sure his eye rolling was obvious enough for Firmino to see. “I’ll let you pass, just this once.”
“It’s the truth!” the smaller Brazilian argued.
“No matter how hard I work in the gym, I’m always Flaco!” Fabinho ranted. “Even when I pump iron like Milly I always look skinny."
“You think that’s bad? I drank every growth formula imaginable and I’m still small,” Firmino confessed. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Oh, yeah!” Fabinho took Firmino’s hand, dragging him away. “I have a surprise for you at my house, just the two of us. You don’t mind, do you Ali?”
“No, I’ll find something else to do. You two have fun!” Alisson called out as his friends walked away.
*
“So what’s the surprise?” Firmino asked. He hit the pause button on his phone, allowing some silence in the car that was previously filled with loud music.
“For the thirtieth time, Bobby. It’s a surprise,” Fabinho sighed. If he didn’t love Firmino like he did, he would’ve thrown the older man out of the car already. “And no guessing.”
“Is it a bolo de coco?”
Fabinho hit the brake hard at the stop light, shooting an exasperated glare at Firmino. “I just said no guessing!”
“You know, you’re sort of like a coconut cake too, Fabi,” Firmino went on, not turning the music back on just yet. “You’re really underestimated and people don’t listen to you enough, but when they do you’re awesome.”
“I don’t get it. First I’m Flaco and now I’m a cake?”
“I’ve been taking random personality quizzes on the internet while healing,” Firmino explained. He held up his phone, which was now on the Notes app. “Did you know that according to these tests, my favorite color is yellow, I fit the Libra zodiac sign down to a T and the Disney character I'm most like is Flynn Rider from Tangled?”
Any other day Fabinho would’ve dismissed the information as senseless balderdash. He was feeling particularly generous today though—so he simply took Firmino’s hand in his. “I’m so glad you’re back, mano.”
*
“Hit the road Jack, and don’t you come back no MOOORE!!!” Firmino sang along with Fabinho’s Ray Charles CD, setting his glass of ginger iced tea on the counter. “Hit the road Jack, and don’t you come back no more no more no more no more…”
Fabinho cringed, checking the oven. Firmino was a pretty good singer, but when he tried to sing loudly he could break glass. “Bobby, what if we switched to a different song? I can’t concentrate on the bolo de coco’s filling with that catchy tune.”
“Well…” Firmino sniffed the bowl of coconut cream icing, his eyes lighting up at the rich coconut aroma. “I guess if you say so, I’ll pack up my things and go!”
“Don’t go!” Fabinho grabbed Firmino by the arm. “The cake will be ready in half an hour, and then we’ll have a jam session and movies and…”
“Meu deus, Flaco!” Firmino exclaimed. “Can we do all those things in one night?”
“We’ll stretch it into the morning if we have to,” Fabinho decided. A faint smell of smoke snapped him out of his thoughts and into panic. “THE BARBECUE!”
He reached into the oven and pulled out a rack of ribs. Some of them were blackened and charred on the edges, a clear sign of the cook forgetting to turn them over.
“It’s fine,” Firmino reassured Fabinho, taking out a knife. “We’ll just cut off the burnt parts and salvage the rest. I’ll show you how—”
“No, you can’t do that!” Fabinho grabbed the knife from Firmino, putting it on the counter away from Firmino’s reach. “The whole reason I invited you here was so we can spend time together doing all of your favorite things. You shouldn’t be working; you’ve been doing enough of that during rehab.”
“Ah, Flaco.” Firmino put down his iced tea, embracing Fabinho. “You don’t have to do all that.”
Fabinho frowned in confusion. “But I thought you liked all that stuff!”
“I do, Fabi. But I didn’t need all that stuff. All I’ve been looking forward to is spending time with you.” Firmino took the knife again, holding another one towards Fabinho. “Now how about we fix these ribs and finish the bolo de coco together? We can even bring some in tomorrow.”
Fabinho nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great—if we have any food left.”