Feeling Puckish

2008-12-25T20:20:43Z

Rio Ferdinand sipped his drink, watching with interest as two of his team-mates picked their way across the dance floor. Cristiano’s palm was lightly pressed against the small of Wayne’s back, guiding the other man through the crowd. Now, as they stood at the bar, Cris’ hand sort of half-lingered there, and Wayne was kind of half-turned into him.

It was entirely typical of their relationship; almost there but with quite the distance left to run. They were the nearly-lovers but for a shove in the right direction. And Rio was feeling seasonably puckish.

He was not your archetypal Cupid figure, but a little romance of his own made him inclined to see others as sickeningly happy, even if that did mean knocking a couple of obstinate heads together to do it.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, but broke off from staring ruminatively into the middle distance in time to catch Cristiano being dragged back onto the dance floor by a rat-arsed Nani and Anderson. He also caught what he wasn’t supposed to see - the look of pained longing that passed across Wayne’s face like a shadow.

“Dozy couple of fuckers,” Rio declared and gulped down the dregs of his drink. Feeling a pair of strong arms slide around him, and the scratch of stubble against his cheek, he leant contentedly back into his lover’s embrace. “Hello, Vida,” he murmured happily. For the moment at least, Wayne and Cristiano were forgotten, but not before he had formulated a cunning plan…

***

It wasn’t a particularly elaborate scheme, involving as it did a Christmas plant, age-old tradition and a locked changing room, but Rio had high hopes none the less.

After training, he had cajoled, threatened or forcibly removed the rest of the squad from the locker room with ninja-like speed and stealth. Wayne and Cristiano were bickering noisily but amiably as they dressed, and didn’t realise what was going on until it was too late. Suddenly Rio was looming above them in an ambush; brandishing mistletoe and demanding they kiss.

“Fuck off, Rio,” Wayne said furiously, and the sometime captain could see Wayne was unconsciously revealing his whole hand. His words were angry, but the pain behind them were so very clear, as was the desperation in his eyes. He shoved Rio out of the way but before he could take a step, a hand had wrapped around his wrist.

“It is tradition, no?” Cristiano said quietly, his fingers tightening around Wayne’s hand.

Wayne stared uncertainly into the winger’s dark, solemn eyes. “Yeah, apparently so,” he said, in what he fondly imagined to be a casual tone.

“Then we must follow tradition. Would be bad luck not to, I think.”

Wayne stepped away with a shuddering breath. “Ronny, I…”

Cristiano pulled him back and into his arms. Startled beyond words, Wayne could only clutch at the other man’s shoulders as the world slipped on its axis. “I think we should kiss,” Cristiano explained calmly, but the thunderous tattoo of his heart against Wayne’s chest betrayed him.

“Oh darlin’,” Wayne said, aiming for irony but managing breathlessly sincere instead.

Both men were taut with expectation as they moved together and kissed for the first time. It was hard and brief, though they didn’t release each other immediately.

“Call that a kiss?” Rio said derisively, wielding the mistletoe at them again.

Wayne shrugged, took Cristiano’s face in his hands and kissed him, deeply and hungrily, feeling the other man respond in a way that left no doubt that his feelings were firmly reciprocated.

Breathless, they finally broke apart, and Cristiano met Wayne’s impossibly sweet and shy smile with a delighted grin.

Ridiculously pleased, Rio said, quite unheeded, “And a Merry Christmas to you too,” and backed quietly out of the room. Smirking, full of good tidings and festive cheer, he tucked the mistletoe carefully in his jacket pocket, figuring it might just come in handy later…

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Feeling Puckish