FOOTBALL RPF FIC: Baby Face

[flywoman]

Title: Baby Face
Pairings: Iker Casillas/Sara Carbonero, Xavi Hernández/Iker Casillas, Xavi Hernández/Nuria Cunillera
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1363
Summary: When you have a child, everything changes. Well, almost everything. Xavi visits Iker and his baby boy after the clásico.


By the time Xavi staggered out of his cab, flushed with wine and victory, Sara had long since gone to bed. Iker met him at the door with his two-and-a-half-month-old son brandished in his arms like a smelly, damp shield and kissed his friend chastely on the cheek.

"Joder," Xavi remarked, slinging an affectionate arm around Iker's unyielding waist and chucking Martín under his chubby chin, "You've grown since the last time I saw you."

"They do that," Iker said dryly, and shrugged Xavi off to turn and close the door against the chill. It had been a harsh winter, and one that appeared to sneer at the official arrival of spring as the invention of mere mortals.

"I meant you, gordito," Xavi grinned, and ducked the half-hearted blow that Iker aimed at the back of his head. He bent over the sleepy infant, clicking his tongue as if calling a cat. "Hello Martín, it's your Oncle Xavi." Martín stared back for a few seconds, slit-eyed, before his little pink face split in a big, toothless yawn.

Iker tried, and failed, not to laugh as Xavi put on a pout. "Eh, little man, bored already? I've come a long way to see you tonight."

"All the way from the hotel bar?" Iker murmured.

Xavi blinked. "No, from- eh, I'm sorry I'm so late, but you know the team captains can't just take off after a clásico."

"They can," Iker said, scrubbing at his face with his free hand, "if they have a two-month-old at home. And particularly if they didn't get to play."

Xavi swore under his breath and wrapped his arm around Iker's waist again. He'd always been that way; get a few drinks in him and he was like a freaking octopus, Iker mused. "I can't believe that you continue to let them treat you this way."

"Let's not fight tonight," Iker said bluntly. "I'm way too tired."

"Hmm." Xavi peered down at Martín, his dark eyes not quite focusing. "Is this little angel keeping you up at night?"

"God, you have no idea. Sara breastfeeds him every three hours, which is really every two since it takes so long to get him latched and feed him and burp him and clean him up and then get him back to sleep..." Iker blew out his breath for emphasis.

"Wow, I'm really starting to see the attraction."

"Shut up," Iker said, grinning despite himself. "He is totally worth it. The best thing that's ever happened to me." And, on Xavi's skeptical look, "And yes, that includes winning the World Cup."

Xavi looked like he wanted to argue, but for once he kept his mouth shut, instead quietly studying the sleepy infant, who blinked blearily back at him.

"He has Sara's eyes," Iker said fondly.

"And your lips," Xavi observed, reaching out to touch Martín tenderly at the corner of his mouth. "Better than the reverse, all things considered, eh?"

Iker failed to rise to the bait, bending to rub his nose against his son's. "My mother says he looks just like I did as a baby."

"It's an evolutionary strategy," Xavi explained cheerfully. "Babies look just like their daddies for the first few months so that they don't suspect cuckholding and kill them."

"Joder, Xavi! Not in front of Martín!" Iker protested, and his son squirmed, sensing the distress in his voice.

"Oh, you can see it everywhere," Xavi grinned, warming to the subject. "Messi's son Thiago? Exactly like his father's baby photos. And Lia, too, just like a miniature Cesc. Only, you know, a girl."

"Thank god for that," Iker joked, jogging Martín up and down gently in his arms to soothe him. "So what about you? Are we going to see a kid with big eyebrows and curly hair glued to a football anytime soon?"

"Hell no," Xavi said with his usual delicacy. "Nuria and I haven't even been married for a year. Time enough for kids once we're tired of sex."

This hit home, probably much harder than Iker's friend had intended. Martín was marvelous, truly the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him, but he had to admit that the past few months had been... lacking in some respects. "Well, you look great. Getting laid regularly must agree with you." He looked down, focusing deliberately on his son's face, the eyelashes lying delicately on the chubby damp cheeks, so that Xavi wouldn't see the color rise to his own.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about the traitorous tips of his ears. Xavi reached behind the right one and affectionately caressed its curve, causing Iker to shiver involuntarily. "Regularity," he husked, "isn't everything."

Iker tilted his head a little, leaning into Xavi's hand, feeling desire swell, but softly, like banked embers instead of a blazing fire. He shifted Martín on his hip so that he could turn his head and press a kiss into Xavi's palm. His friend stepped forward and encircled Iker as well as the drowsing infant in his arms; Iker in turn fit himself between Xavi's feet and tucked his chin over the other man's shoulder. Without speaking, they began slowly swaying in time, the warm weight of Martín cuddled close between them.

"Què li darem a n'el Noi de la Mare?" Xavi crooned, his gravelly voice soft and only slightly off-key. "Què le darem que li sàpiga bo?"

As they continued their slow, sweet dance, Iker felt his eyelids droop, his head heavy, Xavi's familiar scent wrapping itself around him like a favorite blanket. Despite the stresses and disappointments of the day, he felt serene and utterly safe. All too soon, he stumbled slightly and realized that he had literally fallen asleep on his feet.

"Not you too," Xavi said, steadying him with a resigned roll of his eyes.

"Apparently you have this effect on all the boys," Iker yawned, and pulled away lest Xavi become aware that he was half-hard under his sweatpants.

"It's probably just your low testosterone." As Iker started to sputter, Xavi elaborated, "It happens to new fathers. Probably lowers their aggression so they bond with the baby and help take care of it instead of attacking it."

"Just when exactly did you become an expert on babies?" Iker demanded, honestly curious. "Last I heard, you couldn't kick them across a football field."

"Maybe not, but when half your teammates spawn at the same time, it's important to do your research. Low testosterone could affect their competitive spirit. And sleep deprivation never helped anyone's game."

"That's more like it," Iker said. He found himself lowering his voice, even though there was no one else in the room. "By the way, how is Andrés doing?"

Xavi blinked unabashedly against sudden tears. "He's all right," he said gruffly. "As well as can be expected. Joder. He and Anna didn't deserve this."

"No one does," Iker said with feeling.

"Yes. Well. Give him a call sometime, maybe. He'd appreciate that."

"I will," Iker promised, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him. He'd been so wrapped up in his own happiness, and yes, so sleep-deprived, that he'd neglected many of the important people in his life over the past few months. Not least among them the man standing before him now, half-tipsy and trusting, without a word of recrimination on his lips.

"Xavi," he said, so suddenly that his sleeping son stirred in his arms, "I've missed you. You know that, right?"

Xavi raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, no doubt about to make some joke about how anyone would, but then visibly changed his mind and drew Iker close. His kiss was soft and sweet, lingering at the corners of Iker's mouth when they finally pulled apart.

"Stay?" Iker found himself asking, but Xavi was already shaking his head.

"Next time, when la Abuela can take him off your hands for an hour. I'll bring Nuria."

Iker smiled, his thoughts drifting to vivid memories of Xavi's honeymoon in the Seychelles. "Sara would like that."

"It's a date," Xavi replied. He bent and kissed Martín gently on the forehead, squeezed Iker's arm, and slipped back out into the early morning air.