Chapter Text
“Mr. Messi, what about this suit?” - a young, tanned man was standing in the middle of nicely furnished, modern-looking Lionel Messi’s bedroom, where almost every girl in Barcelona at least would like to find herself, holding a navy blue suit in front of a shorter guy, who for your information was standing there topless, sun shining through the glass playing with his pale skin, eyes brighter than ever.
Cristiano Ronaldo has been working for Lionel for a long time now, probably a year or a little more, taking the position of a personal style advisor. He is the one responsible for that classy black two-piece Leo was wearing to the 2015 Ballon D’Or ceremony and that grayish-black suit at the Best Player UEFA 2015. Not that he didn’t like the scarlet or maroon suits of Leo’s at the previous ceremonies or the black one with some flowers on it, he just felt Leo on some other level and thought that it might have been too much for a person described as a humble and down-to-earth by the press. Classy black looked so much better on him.
It was a hot summer day and Leo was too tired already trying one suit after another. He was whining almost about every piece the other guy had given him and Cristiano could understand, but he had to get his job done. Leo being a professional footballer meant that they’ve never had a lot of time to try stuff on, so when Messi has a moment Cris always tries to do as much work as possible.
La Pulga looked up, locking eyes on the Portuguese. “I like the color. It reminds me of Barcelona’s kits,” he said, taking the hanger with pants on it from Cristiano. “Of course it does,” the other teased, squatting down to straighten Leo’s pants and the bottom so he could estimate how much he would have to alter in order for the pants to be the perfect fit for his client. In the end of the day it doesn’t matter whether it is Dolce&Gabbana or Dior if the suit isn’t tailored well.
“Maybe we could use a pair of sneakers or wing-tips for this suit,” the stylist’s voice sounded suggesting, he pouted his lips, thinking through his ideas to himself. It was clear to Messi that his assistant was talking to himself, however he liked to watch Cris doing his job like that. It was almost the same as watching a musician create a new masterpiece or a painter in a process of creating a new painting. Something about it was too close to home for Leo and he found it being exactly the same as what Leo felt everyday on the pitch. That feeling of completion, concentration and inspiration like no other activity could give him.
“What are wing-tips?” Leo asked, arching his brow. The taller guy flicked his eyes up to his client, standing there topless as if there was no air conditioning in the room and it was too hot outside for him to wear something. He stood up, examining his work on Leo’s pants, fixing a pin where afterwards he would draw a line with chalk and alter them. “They are the type of dress shoes, just like the ones in the corner, Mr. Messi,” Cristiano waved his hand towards the corner of the bedroom ambiguously.
“Oh, I didn’t know they had a special name,” Leo said in surprise, “And you know you could call me just Leo, right?”
Cristiano looked up once more, locking his gaze on his employer’s brown eyes for a short moment, not saying anything. Leo felt awkward for a moment, but continued the conversation if it could be called that way. “The club wants me to change my style a bit, you know, as I am one of the key players,” he said watching Cristiano jotting down some notes into his notebook.
“What is that supposed to mean?” the Portuguese exclaimed, stopping his hand in mid-air. He looked like he had lost the train of thoughts, confused and disappointed. “Do they not like your style?”
“They do when you style me for award shows and official meetings, but they think that a face of the club has to be more stylish in real life, y’know, not only on some special occasions,” he smiled shyly, “so I thought maybe we could work on my casual style a bit.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he was ashamed of what he asked.
Cristiano just blurted out an unsure “okay” while giving him a plain white shirt. “Do I have to wear it now? It is just a shirt, I bet it fits me well.”
“Yes, you do, Mr. Messi. Without that shirt you can’t wear a top part and I have to make some marks too, so I could tailor it later.” Cristiano explained, looking annoyed with stupid questions, but secretly Leo knew, he wasn’t annoyed at the question, it was a part of his job - he was that cranky because he was taken out of his little creative reality for a second with that question. Leo could talk to him during the thinking process, but Cristiano wasn’t paying a lot of attention to whatever he said, lifting his gaze only when his boss said something funny or important. Either way with sarcastic expression on his face.
“So, back to what I was saying, I had planned this little vacation a while ago and some of my staff people are coming. And I want you to be there too, if it’s okay,” the Argentine looked into the mirror, seeing Cristiano jumping around him with safety pins, writing down something in his notebook, his curly hair was gel-free today and it was falling down a little on his forehead. Would his hands look good in the soft locks of tanned man’s hair?
The picture took every little space of Leo’s brain until he heard a determined “When?” Cristiano’s face expressionless, voice unimpressed.
“In a couple of days, Copa America had just finished, so the coach and the doctors say I need some rest outside of Barcelona, y’know, because of all the media,” he explained carefully, still hurt from the loss, “As for me I wouldn’t want to get out of the house.” Cristiano just glanced at him for a second waiting for more words, but continuing to fix the jacket.
“I know it’s such a short notice, but I would like you to go with me, so you could manage my style. I don’t need press to criticize me for my style too.” He sighed, looking down, recalling that evening of June 27th, known to him as the evening of a big failure. His voice was more of a guilty one, he felt bad that he never said anything to his personal stylist about the trip.
“The only thing I am worried about is that I might not be ready with your vacation style shopping.” He said, angrily writing something in the same black notebook. “What? You need some clothes!” He exclaimed after catching Leo’s look.
“Why can’t I use the ones I have?” He pointed towards his huge walk-in closet, filled with mostly training gear and casual clothing.
“Didn’t you mention that you wanted to change something about your style?” Cris arched his eyebrow, grinning at Leo, who just shook his head, smiling at himself, whispering a short “Of course.”
Awkward silence descended in the room. Cristiano’s movements were swift, but silent, almost like a touch of a butterfly on Leo’s shoulders. And although his moves were not supposed to be for the shorter man but for a jacket that was on him, it still was a rather soothing experience for the Argentine.
“Wait,” he said, and Cristiano looked at him through the mirror, “Your only question was about timing, does it mean you are accepting my offer?”
“What else should I do when my boss tells me he needs me to do my job?” Cristiano sounded like he stated the obvious thing, arching his eyebrow again for what seems like a thirtieth time today. His sassiness is what Leo sometimes didn’t appreciate at all. What a weird thing that was - the employer was shy and humble, while the employee was the confident and always sarcastic one.
“I would understand if you said no. It is like a week away from home.” Leo shrugged. But Cris seemed to ignore that, uttering a “pfffft” sound, like the thing Leo have said was nonsense.
“I am glad you’ll be there.” Leo suddenly said after a minute or two of silence and his words made the taller guy’s hands stop in mid-air, holding a pin too close to the skin of Leo’s waist. That was a rather shocking phrase to hear from your sexy - and yes you’ve heard him right - boss, for a second there Cris pretended he didn’t hear it, and he almost answered, when Leo continued, “And I will cover all of your expenses, too.”
“You know that you pay me more than enough for me to be able to pay for my own stuff, right?” Cris said, pouting his lips again - something about him that Leo thought was really cute, and sounded offended in general. He didn’t like when his boss brought up money issue, never considering himself less of a successful person because of a lower income than the top footballer at least in La Liga. His independence, protectiveness of the thing he truly loved and ambitiousness was what people, including Leo, really liked about him. Besides his looks and flirtatious nature.
“Yeah, I understand and I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying that I am paying for my bodyguards and other assistants, so any of you will not have to pay for something I am kinda guilty for.” Leo shrugged again, making Cris put his hand on his boss’ shoulders to stop the movement. Not that the footballer didn’t like it, he almost wanted to repeat his move so he would feel the touch again. He shouldn’t crave his assistant’s touches this much. But he did. That thought had to be hidden deep inside Leo’s brain. “Don’t you want to know where we are going?” His curious look tried to find any sign of excitement on his stylist’s tanned face.
“Nope,” the Argentine heard, “it is a business trip for me, not a vacation, so I don’t really care to know.” His answer sounded completely irrational to Leo’s curious nature. And he would lie if he said that at that exact moment he wasn’t thinking that he gotta make this trip as relaxing as it could be for Cris.
“Do I need to try on something else?”
“No, that is it for today,” Cris’ eyes followed Leo’s movements, who was taking off his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. Almost like he was teasing the stylist in front of him. Cris swallowed the lump that had built up in this throat due to the picture of an almost naked body standing something like three feet next to him. “But I need to know what you like to wear while on vacation, so I could do shopping later today.” He pronounced, his voice low and hoarse.
“Like the normal stuff, swimming shorts, a t-shirt, maybe a baseball cap, some sunglasses.”
“Well, duh, but what kind of shorts? Like knee-long or maybe thigh-long?” Cris bit the end of his pencil, jotting down some details for his shopping spree tomorrow. He was such a sassy bitch when it came to clothing.
“Somewhere in the middle, not too short, but not too long either.” A stylist just nodded, smiling.
And that was what concluded their conversation for the day. Leo just escorted him to the door, as if it was first time for the Portuguese in his house and said a quick “thanks” and “see you soon”, he closed his door, heading straight to the shower to wash off the sweat and some of Cris’ touches.
That sexual tension between the two of them was never a subject of discussion, although it appeared a while ago, as the two sexy people in one room would develop it anyways. It was just never something to consider because the boss-employee relationship was the priority for Cris, if not for Leo.
Considering that, both of them ended their day in a long, somewhat cold shower.