Chapter Text
Guildford, June 2021
Panicked, he looked at the Real Madrid jersey he was holding in his hands. It had become smaller. Why had it become smaller? It had been in the laundry and he had washed it at 60° celsius with their underwear, why did it shrink then? And an even better question, how the hell would he explain this to Carlos? His boyfriend loved that jersey, he loved that club, and he ruined it. He'd hate him if he saw the jersey. Speaking of which...
The slamming of the front door ripped him out of his thoughts and a frightened squeak escaped him. Carlos was home already?! He quickly rushed to the bathroom door and locked it, then leaned against it. His gaze slipped back to the piece of cloth in his hands, which could only be worn by teenagers, but definitely not Carlos, who was quite muscular.
"Lando? Are you home?" His voice echoed through the house.
"I'm in the bathroom!" He called back and stuffed the – still wet – jersey under his shirt. Somehow he had to hide it in his closet without Carlos noticing.
A soft hum came from his boyfriend as an answer, who would probably get something to eat in the kitchen. That's what he used to do when he came home from training, eating fruit first. Somehow a strange habit, Lando usually always jumped in the shower first, but that also meant that he could go to the bedroom quickly undisturbed.
He took a deep breath, then he quietly opened the door and was about to leave the bathroom when Carlos came up the stairs. In one hand, he held an apple, in the other his sports bag. "Hola, mi amor," he greeted him in a good mood and winked charmingly, as he was.
"Hola," he gave back in a high voice and wrapped his arms around his torso to cover the jersey. Questioning, Carlos bit a piece of his apple, while raising an eyebrow.
"Do you have a stomachache or what?" He smiled, but Lando could see the concern in his eyes.
"Yeah, it's really bad. I got the laundry out of the machine and then suddenly I got really sick. I was just about to lie down," he gladly took the opportunity to make an excuse and pressed his lips firmly together.
"I'll carry you," he decided right away. He dropped the sports bag and urged him to hold the apple to free his hands, but he quickly shook his head.
"It's fine, really, I'll make it to the bedroom by myself," he muttered. "You can take a shower and put your clothes in the laundry."
"I have to go to the bedroom to get some fresh clothes anyway." Once again he bit off his apple and then put one hand on his back to push him into the bedroom. Once there, he ordered him to bed while he threw away the remains of the apple and looked for fresh clothes from his part of the closet. Then, Carlos sat down next to him on the edge of the bed.
"Do you want me to make you a hot-water bottle or something?" Compassionately he put a hand on his forehead and seemed to want to see if he had a fever as well, but logically he didn't have that, he didn't even have a stomachache. "Oh, and my mother used to rub my stomach, should I do that?"
He opened his mouth to protest, but then Carlos' hands were under his shirt already, feeling the wet jersey right away. Irritated, Carlos paused and frowned. "What is that?" He asked.
"N-nothing?" He said insecurely and pushed his hands away quickly, but of course, he didn't let go so easily. Instead, he grabbed the jersey again and pulled it out. A stunned gasp escaped him.
"How...how did that happen?" With wide eyes, he looked at the shirt in his hands and seemed unable to comprehend what had happened.
"I don't know!" He exclaimed desperately and guilt-consciously at the same time. "I washed it because it was in the laundry basket, and it came out like that. I'm so sorry, Carlos, I didn't mean to. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll buy you a new jersey."
The elder shook his head and sighed quietly before he threw his jersey aside and turned to him. "Calm down, Lando," he muttered encouragingly. "It's not the jersey with the signatures, it's a normal one, even without any flocking. I have more jerseys. You don't have to buy me a new one."
"You sure?" He chucked down and stared at Carlos, which elicited a small smile.
"Very sure," he confirmed and then suddenly began to grin. "But as compensation, you're taking the shower with me, you don't have a stomachache, do you?"
"No." He smiled at him as he stood up.
"Then I may carry you now?" Carlos asked confidently, and he nodded in a hurry, holding out his arms to him. Less than two seconds later, he hung on him like a koala and pressed his face into his neck.
"I'm really sorry about your jersey," he muttered again, as the guilty conscience still plagued him. It probably wouldn't go away so fast either.
"Everything's fine. It's more important to me to be able to spend my free time with a healthy Lando than having a Real Madrid jersey," Carlos laughed softly and he raised his head to look at him.
"Really?" Nervously, he nibbled on his lower lip. Instead of answering him, Carlos leaned toward him and kissed him tenderly, which meant that the subject was forgotten again.
The bad conscience still didn't leave him even days later though, so he decided to make it up to him, even if Carlos didn't want to. Concentrated, he read through the player names that could be on the back of the jersey, but he didn't really know who Carlos liked the most. Then a new idea popped into his head. Carlos had a jersey with his own name and number, so there had to be some way to design something of his own on the back.
After a short search, he found it and wondered if he should enter 'Norris' and a 4, but Carlos certainly would find that too cheesy. He thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip and scanned his head for all his football memories with Carlos. He once said that the best players were Ronaldo and Messi. He had even met Ronaldo with Charles the other day and then had proudly presented a signed jersey by Ronaldo to him. By the way, said jersey was now framed in their house in Guildford, next to the signed Real Madrid jersey – also framed of course.
So he was missing one of Messi's. He would certainly be happy if he had a Real Madrid jersey with Messi's name and number. If he was one of the best players in the world, you wanted him to play at your favorite club, right? Enthusiastic about this idea, he searched the internet for the player's number and put it on the jersey before he clicked it into the shopping cart and ordered it along with a Real Madrid cap.
Now it just had to arrive...
A week later, it was finally time. Excited, he took the package and jumped happily into the living room, where he unpacked it. Fortunately, Carlos was just out for a run, so he was able to admire the purchase by himself. He liked it and he was pretty proud of it too. That was a great idea, Carlos would never expect that in his life!
Almost an hour later the time had come and he was able to give it to him. His boyfriend was sitting freshly showered on the sofa and had his legs on the couch table.
"Close your eyes," he ordered as he entered the room.
"Why?" Carlos asked curiously but did so without putting up a fight. Satisfied, he sat down with him on the sofa and held the cap in front of his face before allowing him to open his eyes again.
"Oh, for me?" Delighted, Carlos grabbed the cap, examined it from all sides, and then put it on radiantly. "How did I deserve that now?"
"Well, I destroyed your jersey and..." he looked at him uncertainly and shrugged his shoulders, as his radiance turned into a soft smile.
"I told you it was fine," he reminded him lovingly.
"I still felt bad about it!" He promptly answered and now pulled out the new jersey behind his back. "That's for you too."
"Lando, you..." Shaking his head, he took it but put it aside at first. "That's really nice of you, but you didn't have to."
"But I wanted to make you happy after I upset you," he whispered and nervously played with his fingers.
"You didn't upset me." The Spaniard griped his chin tenderly and then pressed a short kiss on his lips. "But I really appreciate it, thank you." He gave him one more charming smile, then grabbed the jersey to take a closer look at it. He watched his reaction with suspense as he turned it around.
The grin disappeared immediately, instead, he stared at the flocking in shock. His jaw fell down and his eyes flashed over the letters and numbers again and again.
Then his hearty laughter finally filled the room. Carlos laughed so much that he was really afraid he wouldn't be able to breathe anymore. Irritated, he followed it and didn't know why he was laughing. Did he misspell the name?
"That's a joke, right?" Carlos finally giggled as he had calmed down a bit, and looked at him amusedly.
"No...?" He mumbled and frowned. "Why?"
"Oh, Lando," he grinned. "I'll never be able to wear this in public."
"What? Why?!" Horrified, his eyes widened and his head rattled. He must have made a mistake, but what kind of mistake?
"Messi is playing for Barcelona," he explained to him, but he still didn't know what the mistake was now. Carlos seemed to notice from his grim look that he didn't understand which was why he continued, "Barcelona and Real Madrid are arch enemies."
"Oh," it escaped him ashamed. God, was he stupid? He wanted to make Carlos happy and had screwed up again, great...
"Ay, cariño," said Carlos with a smile and put a hand to his cheek as he tended his jaw. "Don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known that."
"You once said Messi and Ronaldo are the best players. I thought I'd make you happy, but I screwed up," he muttered, and let his shoulders drop.
"Oh, you made me very happy,„ he contradicted him. "I haven't laughed so hard in a long time."
"But this thing is useless." Disappointed, he pointed at the jersey, but Carlos shook his head with a grin.
"You can still wear it when you're at home," he cheered him up and he sighed heavily.
"I'm really sorry," I said quietly.
"There's really no reason why you should apologise now," Carlos laughed tenderly before kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you, cariño."
"I love you too." Still a bit frustrated, he clung to his shirt and kissed him.
Carlos let himself fall on his back and pulled him along so that he came to lie on him. And now all shirts in this whole wide world would have been unnecessary anyway.