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17 September 2012 @ 08:01 pm
Your Warm Whispers (into the dawn they carry me through)  

Title: Your Warm Whispers (into the dawn they carry me through)
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/Mesut Özil
Rating: PG
Words: 873
Disclaimer: Lies, lies, lies. I am a lying liar who lies. None of this is real.
Notes: Title taken from Warm Whispers by Missy Higgins, which also inspired the general feel to this fic since I had it on repeat while writing. I haven't written a fic in well over 18 months, so please be gentle. Plus, this is my first footie fic ever, so be extra gentle :x

Mesut had been asleep for just shy of two hours when he stirred awake and reached for his phone vibrating incessantly under his pillow. Squinting against the bright light of the screen, he let out a small sigh at the caller ID and momentarily considered rejecting the call.

“Cris, it’s three in the morning,” he muttered in greeting, pulling the blanket up to cover his face. And, okay, Mesut knew he’d brought it on himself when, after the disappointing match in Sevilla, he’d insisted Cristiano could call him at any hour. But admittedly, he had sort of expected the hours between midnight and 7am would be excluded from any hour.

“I know…” Cristiano sighed on the other end of the line, sounding as tired as Mesut felt. “Sorry, I just- I… nothing. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait,” Mesut said sharply, unable to ignore the underlying disappointment and hurt in Cristiano’s voice. “I’m here,” he added in a softer tone, wishing he could reach out into the dark and give Cristiano whatever it was he needed. They were part of a team, and they won and lost as a team, but Mesut knew Cristiano took the downs harder than most of them.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a full minute before Cristiano let out a deep sigh and muttered something to himself in Portuguese. “Can I come over?” he finally asked with a hint of apprehension, almost as though he expected the answer to be no.

It’s 3am, Cris, Mesut wanted to say. What am I supposed to say if Sami wakes up for a drink of water? he wanted to ask. But he didn’t, because he knew neither of those things were what Cristiano needed to hear, and because sleep was less important than the other man’s evident distress right now. “I’ll unlock the front door. You can find your own way to my room,” he said with a hint of a smile in his voice.


Half an hour later, Mesut was woken again by soft lips leaving a scattering of kisses across his bare shoulder blades and fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck. A gentle smile appeared as he made an indistinct noise in greeting, rolling his head to meet Cristiano’s lips.

“Do you always sleep in the nude?” Cristiano asked as he slid his hand under the sheets to trace a bare hipbone with the tips of his fingers. There was barely a hint of desire in his voice; it was a genuine question. Still, he didn’t give Mesut a chance to answer as he found the midfielder’s lips in the dark and coaxed his mouth open.

“Cris… wait,” Mesut murmured a few seconds later after breaking the kiss. There was a silent pause while Mesut tried to think through the fatigue and sleepiness; Cristiano shifted to hold his head up with his hand. “It’s not your fault,” he said eventually, everything else his tired brain had come up with sounding too insincere or forceful.

Cristiano released a soft sigh and, after pushing off the sweat pants he’d blindly put on in the darkness of his bedroom, pulled back the covers to move against Mesut’s body. He rested his head on the other man’s chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. “It isn’t my fault that we’ve only got four points, but it is my fault that I haven’t scored,” he whispered in a voice that betrayed a hint of hurt and calamity brewing below the surface. Cristiano knew he didn’t need to explain, that Mesut wouldn’t contradict him and mention the brace against Granada or his goals in the Super Cup. Mesut wasn’t like Fabio or Iker; he knew the right things to say, especially when the right thing to say was nothing at all.

There were many things Mesut wanted to say, such as reminding Cristiano that he wasn’t a machine and that everyone goes through rough patches. Words wouldn’t help though, he knew that. And there was nothing he could say that Cristiano hadn’t already heard. “Ich liebe dich,” he breathed into Cristiano’s soft hair, pulling the Portuguese’s body closer to his until their skin was meeting at every possible point. “Tell me what you need… as long as it doesn’t involve leaving the bed,” Mesut added, a lazy smile flashing on his lips when he heard Cristiano’s snort of mild amusement.

“Just… hold me?” Cristiano asked, sounding fragile and scared, disarmed entirely by the darkness and security of Mesut’s arms and Mesut’s understanding and Mesut’s self-sacrifices every single time Cristiano felt he was falling. “And talk to me about… anything. Speak in German. I just want to hear your voice.” I love you, too, Cristiano wished he could say, but couldn’t bring himself to.

“I know,” Mesut said simply, tilting Cristiano’s face towards his to press a kiss to each closed eyelid followed by one on his mouth. Once they’d settled, Cristiano’s face hidden against Mesut’s neck, he started speaking about meaningless things in a muddle of Spanish and English. Eventually he slipped into German, and only allowed himself to fall into peaceful dreams when Cristiano’s breathing slowed and grew heavier.
sing me a song: Missy Higgins - Warm Whispers | Powered by Last.fm
Stef ♥: Mesut Aviator Humungously Gorgeous EYEShunt4me on October 9th, 2012 08:22 pm (UTC)
oh my heart... but I guess 3am is as good as any time for some impromptu driving across the city and demanding some cuddling time. At least CR's doing heaps better now...albeit a little slowly but that's alright.

Thanks for writing it and sharing it... and sorry for my god awfully late response...currently in the phase of catching up