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David was sprawled across his seat in the empty classroom, crumbling up little pieces of paper and throwing them in the direction of the trash bin, never really hitting the target.
The right side of his face throbbed and it was as if the pain reminded him of what a mess he was really in.
But before he could overthink his situation any further, the door of the classroom opened and the soft pitter patter of worn sneakers on the stone tiles warned him of Iker's presence. Risking a quick glance up, David briefly caught worry in the Spaniard's face before he immediately hung his head even lower, not wanting him to see his expression.
When Iker finally stood in front of his desk, the tips of his fingers touching the wooden surface, David could practically see question and worry radiate off of him in waves.
"You should go home y'know. If Walters catches you here you'll get detention too."
But Iker didn’t move from his spot, nor did he flinch at David's distant tone. He just stood there, as if knowing that being persistent would give him the answers, which was right because he might not see it, but he always got the things he wanted from David.
"I don't care."
His voice was hushed, as if he didn't want to break the silence of the empty school and the lilt of his accent wrapping around the foreign words bounced off the white walls pleasantly.
Which was probably one of the many reasons David was here in the first place.
Balling up the last piece of torn notebook page in
his hand, David threw it to somewhere to his right and balanced his leg on the seat of the desk in front of him, barely touching Iker's jean clad knees.
"Okay."
"What happened David?" the way he pronounced his name 'Dahveed' instead of David nearly had the boy looking up but he knew Iker would see the bruise and know there was something off right away and question him about it and David didn't have much resolve regarding the younger boy; he would end up spilling everything and he was not ready to ruin this so early.
"Nothing, okay? Jus-"
But he was cut off by Mr. Walters's unnecessarily booming voice.
"Well, I see mister Casteelas,"
"It's Casillas sir." David could literally hear Iker trying to be polite because that was just how he was raised.
"Whatever, I see you have decided to join Beckham here because in any case you didn’t understand, if you disturb another student's detention, you will also earn one yourself. Now sit beside him because you're going to be here for the next two hours."
He said it with such distorted pleasure, David could wretch right there.
"Okay sir." The calmness in Iker's tone clearly set Walters off-although only David knew how completely un-calm the boy could be when angry-because the man grumbled under his breath and David could see from under his fringe how the fluorescent light of the classroom reflected against his bald scalp as he made his way to the door.
"Well, don’t make a noise. I'll be in the teachers' lounge. And Beckham I hope having your polite Spanish friend here helps you mull over your actions today; punching that lad for no reason.
Might keep you from punching more kids."
And with that he closed the door behind himself,
David's middle finger following closely.
Really, one day, David was going to come back to this school, see this oversized bag of shit again, and knee him in the balls. Yes, that-
"Now, señor Beckham. Tell me what happened." It seemed like the rise of David's familiar middle finger had put Iker at some ease, although he was still standing in front of him. Not satisfied enough to sit.
"Iker, man, really it's nothing."
Seeing no other solution, Iker sat down on the desk on his left, turning his whole body in his seat to get a better look at David's face but the other boy turned his head away, not wanting Iker to see the damage.
"David Robert Joseph Beckham," and seeing how David was not budging to his full name being called, Iker surged forward and grasped the back of the older boys head, the soft pads of his thumbs touching his jawbones, and turned his head towards him.
Now if the blue and purple bruise forming under his eye and across his cheekbone hurt like a bitch, the stunned, terrified way Iker's honey eyes widened killed him on the spot.
Not bearing to see the other boy like that, David gently tried to turn his head away once more but Iker's grasp didn’t loosen, forcing the elder to keep on looking at him, and his gaze kept darting between the bruise and David's eyes, different emotions swirling in the golden-brown of his irises.
"David why did you do this?"
Said boy closed his eyes in exasperation, not wanting to investigate the issue further.
"Nothing Iker. He was just being a rude arsehole and I couldn't stand it anymore. Someone had to do it at some point. I just put him back into his place I guess."
The look Iker was sending him spoke volumes about how he wasn’t buying it from him.
"But that's not all of it, is it? There's more to it. I can tell."
It felt like Iker knew how his brain functioned better than himself.
"David tell me the truth, you know I don't like it when you don't. Por favor."
David either had a Spanish kink or had become very, very, very soft for Iker's puppy dog eyes-or both-because, with a sigh, like how his father would when he had to re-tell him a story he had told for him a hundred times before, he grasped Iker's hands and gently brought them down from his face but not letting go.
"Okay, okay. He was badmouthing you."
The look Iker was giving David was like the one
he gave him at the beginning of the year, when they were slowly warming up to each other and David had declined a pretty girl's rather seductive invitation to a party because he and Iker wanted to watch the champion's league together at his house.
Iker had looked at him as if he had had moved galaxies for him, thanking him in a mix of rapid fire Spanish and garbled English after the girl left, then kissing his cheek when David told him it was something he would do for him any day.
David had blushed so hard at the gesture he had to push Iker off and throw in something about bloody koalas and clingy Spanish kids just to save his front.
Back then he had a reputation with the girls and praised himself for being a healthy heterosexual.
"Oh god David, you didn’t have to." Iker crooned as his thumbs caressed David's palms, Spanish accent more prominent with every word.
At that sentence, David felt anger rise up his throat. The world was an ugly place and Iker so badly wanted to pretend like it was not.
"No!" David started as his hands went to grip Iker's elbows, as if that would make him understand better, "I had to! He was saying. Things."
Iker's eyes were tracing his face, waiting for him.
"Called you a cocksucker. My bitch. About how you probably like it rough. He even said shit about your… arse. It was, it was disgusting Iker, how he said them. I just, I couldn’t do anything else. They're all arseholes. Full of shit."
David knew his grip was painful; he was dragging Iker closer in his chair, the edge of the desk probably digging into Iker's ribs through his Manchester United hoodie that the older boy had given him as a joke, knowing he hated the team with a passion. Yet he wore it like it meant something to him, like it was his favorite hoodie.
David had seen it coming, in a way, because he and Iker never really cared about personal space. The first time David had given him a ride when there was a heavy rain outside, the younger boy had leaned over the console and lightly pecked him on the cheek before unhooking his seatbelt and getting out of the car with a shy smile.
David nearly had a heart attack at that.
It took him some time, but David finally got used to him being touchy-feely. Dotted it down as a Spanish trait. He even liked it, how Iker would sit down on his lap like it was the most casual thing ever. How he would kiss him on the cheek to greet him and hug him tight and bury his head in his neck as goodbye or jump on his back on their way home and teach him little Spanish phrases.
He learnt to appreciate those about him, but others took Iker's warmth and big heart as a weakness. Called him names.
"It's just that. You're. you. You're too good for them, for this school, for this world. And they don't deserve you, yet they do this. Talk shit about you although you hadn't done anything to them. I just don’t get it. And don’t say I didn't have to. don't pretend that it’s okay. Don’t make it look like you're not worth it. Because you are."
During David's speech Iker's expressions had changed like lightning, going from bashful, to sad, to happy and back to bashful.
And now there was an unreadable emotion in his eyes.
Before David could really ponder whether he said too much or not, Iker got nearly all the way out of his seat and clashed his lips against his.
Iker didn’t give him time to process before he broke the kiss, leaning back a little, a lovely shade of pink dusting his pale cheeks,
"I'm so sorry, I had to."
"No. I wanted to."
And it was as if those few words lit something inside him, because all the tension left Iker's stiff posture and a life ruining, sweet smile slowly stretched across his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes that left David a little breathless in the process.
"Bien."
And with that Iker leaned forward again, this time slower and rubbed the tip of his nose against David's and it felt so intimate; the older boy could only hold his breath, his eyes locked on Iker's half parted lips.
Iker's eyelids fell down gently as he inched closer, the warmth of his breath ghosting against David's lips and the other boy could only stare; the way Iker's dark lashes contrasted with his milky white skin or how the exaggeratedly bright light of the lamps highlighted his graceful, high cheekbones.
Then, Iker's lips softly touched his own and David shut the whole world out, focusing on the feeling, on the gentle heat running up and down his body, on Iker's arms slowly sneaking around his shoulder to scratch at the worn jeans of his jacket, his own hands clutching the Spaniard's lithe waist through the thick material of the hoodie.
Then David tugged on Iker's bottom lip and the sound the boy made was downright filthy.
Good new information on erogenous zones.
Deciding that Iker was probably squishing his intestines in that position, David leaned back, Iker's lips following his with a whimper before he realized what he wanted to do.
David heaved the top of his desk up so that his lap was free and patted the tops of his thighs, motioning for Iker to come over.
Nearly breaking the desk in his haze to get close to the older boy, Iker finally got up and sat down on David's lap with practiced ease, his long legs dangling from the back of David's seat.
Wrapping his arms tightly around Iker's middle, feeling his ribs against his own, David smiled against the brunette's lips as his arms also went back to their previous position around his shoulders,
"Clingy bastard,"
And this time he didn't hesitate to plunge his tongue into Iker's open, awaiting mouth and squeeze his buttock through his jeans, making the younger boy give a loud moan and grind down on David.
David scooted forward in his seat a little, giving room for Iker's legs to come up and wrap around his waist tightly, quite literally clinging to him like an oversized koala.
"You like doin' that, don’t ye?" David asked smugly into Iker's mouth, the younger boy paying him no heed.
He didn't know how long they had been kissing, but the sound of a yelp and Walters's annoyingly familiar rumble of 'fooking hell' echoing across the empty halls had him and Iker breaking the kiss, the young Spaniard scrambling off of his lap and back into his own seat, both turning the desks down to hide the rather obvious bulge in their pants.
Fixing their hair in whatever little time they had, David gave Iker a grin which he returned before the fat man entered the classroom, looking rumpled and annoyed, grunting about stupid kids smearing oil all over the hallway-floors and incompetent janitors
Without sparing them a look, Walters went straight to his desk to sort his papers into his bag and take his coat.
"You’ve better learnt something Beckham, we're not all like you, you know. We have jobs to attend to, people to see. I just spent hours in the teachers' lounge doing important paper work,"
"Watching X-Factor." David whispered in Iker's ear, making the poor boy choke on a laugh,
"Just because you didn’t have enough decency to talk your problems through and tried to solve them with your fists."
"Just like you do with your half-functioning dick." And Iker's face was turning red from the strain.
"But what can we do, you'll probably learn sometime in the far future, if not ever. Anyway, you two are free to go now, do whatever you kids do these days."
David could only think about their previous activities before they were rudely interrupted. By the flush running up Iker's neck, he was thinking the same thing.
"And I'm finally going to go home, do more important things." Walters sighed in faux tiredness and he stood straight with his messenger bag and coat in hand.
"He means wanking off to weird Japanese porn." David whispered to Iker and it seemed to be the last straw because the snort finally left Iker's lips in a moment and Walters' eyes shot up to their faces as they turned their expressions neutral, looking at walls and desks, pretending nothing was wrong.
David even wanted to whistle a tune for the effect but stopped himself.
"What's so funny?" the man asked in a warning.
"Nothing Mr. Walters." Both boys said in unison, looking like angels sitting at their desks with sweet smiles on their faces.
"It better. Goodbye gentlemen." The man said, eyeing them suspiciously for one last time before stepping out of the classroom.
Making sure the man was out of earshot, David turned back to Iker, only for Iker to punch him in the arm,
"David you idiot, I was dying over there!" Iker accused him, giggling.
"Well, I was right wasn't I?" David asked with a smug smirk.
Still shaking silently, Iker nodded in affirmation.
When Iker's giggles finally died down, David leaned towards him and gave him his most charming smile,
"Well, where were we?" he wiggled his eye brows.
Giving the older boy a fond look, Iker diverted his eyes from his and brought up his hand to gently caress the forgotten bruise on his face.
"Well, we were there where I wanted to thank you and tell you that you are the most wonderful person I know."
And with that he looked at David, a soft smile on his lips before he leaned forward and placed a few gentle kisses against the painful skin of his cheek and eyelid.
"And that we should take the kissing to your house because these seats are too small for two people."
And with that he stood up taking David's hands and dragging him backwards towards the classroom door, both boys smiling dopily at each other.
When they went out the school corridors, David went to stand in the sidewalk, looking at the rather quiet street when, per habit, Iker jumped on his back, wounding his arms tightly around his neck and placing small kisses against his earlobe.
Gripping under Iker's knees and hoisting them higher up his body with a smile, David titled his head towards the younger boy nuzzling his nose against his neck,
"Sometimes I think you just befriended to have me carry you around. That or you just see me as your horse."
Iker pulled back a little to give David a sweet smile,
"No, not a horse. You're my stallion. Give yourself more credit."
And with that he turned to face the seemingly never-ending stretch of the sidewalk and pointed his chin up, acting the part of the fierce leader, clinging tighter and poking David's hips with the soles of his sneakers as if he were an actual horse.
"Now, mi semental, take me home!"
Rolling his eyes fondly, David huffed in the way he'd seen cartoon horses do, and made his way towards his house, with Iker yet again murmuring Spanish in his ear.
And he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.