Chapter Text
Madrid, 2023
He smiled dreamily as Carlos put the jersey with his name on it on and then looked in the mirror. As always, his heart jumped when he saw his name on Carlos' jersey. They had had these jerseys for two years, until now they had only worn them in their own home, but Carlos was a man of his words as one may know.
Today, they would go to a game in the Santiago Bernabéu (his Spaniard had taught him the name the last few weeks). He had used his contacts a bit and they were invited to the game, sitting in the VIP ranks, separated from fans who could recognise them. They were also allowed to park in the parking garage of the stadium. That's why they dared to wear the jerseys, otherwise, it would probably have been much too obvious. But somehow that was also good because then his present sight was reserved for him only.
"Hello daydreamer," Carlos' voice tore him from his thoughts and he turned his gaze away from his jersey. His boyfriend smiled at him through the mirror, which he immediately mimicked. "Are you excited?"
"A little maybe," he muttered, wrapping his arms around his pillow so he could put his head on it.
"A little, huh?" Carlos smiled. "You're lost in thoughts all the time today. You only do that when something's bothering you."
"Of course, I'm thinking about it, but it's a good thing to be excited," he calmed him with a smile and pressed his face deeper into the pillow.
"You look like you're about to fall asleep," Carlos immediately teased him. He sat down on his hip and found his sensitive sides with his fingers.
"Carlos, don't," he giggled, but of course, the Spaniard didn't mean to be kind. He mercilessly tickled him, while he – in vain – tried to ward off his attacks. Only when he was really struggling to breathe, Carlos finally stopped and grinned down at him, pinning his arms over his head.
"Awake again?" he wanted to know while he was still gasping for air.
"You asshole, I've never been tired," he pouted, turning a little under his grip, whereupon he strengthened it. "Let go of me."
"Jerk," his boyfriend commented on his behaviour, but still let go of him smiling. Offended, he stretched out his tongue and put his hands on Carlos' thighs.
He was still kneeling over him and at any other time they would probably have jumped each other, but they really didn't have time for that right now. So he had to be content with Carlos pressing a tender kiss on his lips before he climbed off the bed again.
"Come on, let's go," he told him, and he let Carlos pull him out of bed too. Holding hands, they walked down the stairs, where they were already greeted by Reyes.
"Oh, God, you look cute," she exclaimed, then waved her phone. "Can I take a picture of you?"
"If you have to", Carlos muttered, wrapping his arm around him. Smiling, he raised his hand to stroke his cheek. Carlos was not the biggest fan of couple photos, as he found them mostly posed and just exaggerated. It made him even more uncomfortable in front of his mother.
"That's kinda awkward now," the elder murmured, peering over his shoulder where his mother was standing. After all, she really wanted to capture their jerseys in the pictures hence why she made them from behind. Laughing, he buried his face in the crook of his neck, pressing a few kisses on his skin.
"Perfect," said Reyes, and Carlos kissed his forehead for a moment before stepping back. They both slipped into their shoes, while Carlos exchanged a few words in Spanish with his father, who also came into the hallway to wish them fun. He knew Carlos Sr. would like to join them, but his boyfriend had talked him out of it because he wanted to go to the game alone with him.
"Vamos," it came suddenly from Carlos, who clapped his hands in joy and walked up to him grinning. "Let's go."
"And I should be the one being excited?" He teased him affectionately. "You're much more nervous than I am."
"I'm just happy," he lectured him, pushing him towards the door. Laughing, he waved goodbye to Carlos' parents, then they were already on their way to the car.
Somehow the football mood had taken over him. He watched excitedly as the team in red came closer and closer to the opponent's goal and watched as Carlos leaned forward. The ball was passed high into the box, a player in red jumped up and-
"Goal!" Delighted, he jumped up and turned to Carlos to celebrate with him, but he only had one disillusioned look left for him. Just like all the other people in the VIP lounge.
"We're the white ones!" he hissed at him. "That's why you're wearing a white jersey, you genius!"
"Oh, oops." He looked around in embarrassment and said a little louder, "Sorry, I don't know a lot about football."
"Oh, my God, just sit down again." Carlos pulled him back next to him by his arm and shook his head in disbelief.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to him again.
"Just don't do that again," he muttered back and then smiled slightly as he nodded violently. "You are unbelievable. Do you know that?"
"Yes, unbelievable in bed for instance," he giggled amused, which is why Carlos punched his upper arm.
"We're still in public, you know that, don't you?" He grinned and looked around briefly before putting an arm around him.
"Everyone else finds the game more exciting than us anyway." Smiling, he put his head on his shoulder, whereupon he buried his hand in his hair.
"Do you find it boring?" he asked attentively and he quickly said, "No, I like it. More than I thought."
"Good. Now it's even more exciting because they desperately have to score," he told him.
"But they have almost an hour left," he noticed after looking at the stadium clock and his boyfriend nodded.
"Nevertheless, they have to do it first." Now Carlos seemed to get a little more nervous, so he pressed a soothing kiss on his cheek.
"They will," he muttered encouragingly. "Otherwise they'll lose, it's not that dramatic either."
"I'm not taking you to the stadium anymore," he snorted and turned his head back to the pitch.
In fact, Real Madrid managed to win the game in the end. The final score was 3-1 and Carlos seemed much more satisfied than after the opponent's goal. While most of the fans made their way home a few minutes after the whistle, Carlos and he remained seated. They didn't really want to face the crowd that left the stadium and they weren't in a hurry anyway, even though it was already dark and it was getting colder.
"You good?" Carlos had just typed something on his phone and checked on him now.
"Yes, why?" He asked.
"You have goosebumps," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Do you want my sweater?"
He bit his lip and looked at him uncertainly. Carlos had told him several times throughout the day that the game would not end until late. That's why he was supposed to take a sweater with him, but he didn't really believe him and just didn't do it, which he now admittedly regretted.
"Come on. Even if you don't like to admit that I'm right, you should take it," the Spaniard laughed and pressed it in his hand.
"Sure?" He hooked again. "What about you then?"
"I only took it with me for you anyway", he smiled and his eyes softened with those words. Gratefully, he kissed him on the lips before putting on the sweater. When that was done, he cuddled happily in Carlos' outstretched arms.
"How long are we going to stay?" He asked and noticed how he instantly became sleepy.
"Don't fall asleep yet, cariño," he answered affectionately. "We have to wait here for a moment."
"Why?" He muttered and closed his eyes, whereupon he gently nudged him. Grumbling, he opened them again.
"Because some friends wanted to come by."
Dissatisfied, he looked up at him and pouted defiantly. "Which friends?"
Before Carlos could answer, a Spaniard broke through their conversation, "Hola, Carlos. ¿Cómo estás?"
Immediately, his boyfriend stood up and hugged the man who had just appeared. Behind them were two others, with whom he started a conversation.
He followed the conversation less, as he only understood a few pieces of Spanish anyway, until Carlos suddenly remarked in English, "That's Lando, my boyfriend, by the way." With big eyes, he looked at the older man, who stretched out his hand. He hesitantly grabbed it and was pulled to his side. "These are Fede, Marco, and Isco."
"Nice to meet you." he waved to them shyly and was greeted kindly. He was a bit surprised that Carlos had officially introduced him as his boyfriend, but at the same time, he could hardly resist a beam.
"I was already asking myself who stole David's number in our team," Fede laughed in English.
"I'm sorry, but I'd rather wear a jersey from him than David," Carlos grinned and pulled him closer to him, smiling at the same time. Now he couldn't help but smile as well when he looked up at him. Carlos' eyes were unbelievably loving when he briefly winked at him.
"It's okay, he'll survive." The Real Madrid player patted his boyfriend on the shoulder. They talked for quite a while and he realised that the three of them were really nice. Although they obviously couldn't speak English very well, they tried their best so that he could understand them.
Nevertheless, he was happy when they finally said goodbye to them and walked to the car.
Tired, he sat down on the passenger seat, needing several attempts until he was strapped on. When that was finally done, he leaned his head against the car window.
"That was a bit long, wasn't it?" Carlos wanted to know and put a hand on his thigh. Immediately, he intertwined their fingers.
"Who came up with the idea of those late matches?" He muttered.
"In Spain, we generally do everything later than you Britons," he laughed and squeezed his hand. "You can sleep, I'll carry you to bed."
Of course, he didn't let himself be told twice and cuddled deeper into the seat. "Thank you for a great evening," he muttered. "I love you."
"I love you too, cariño," he replied his words, then he drifted off slowly.