Pairing: José Mourinho/Rui Faria
Summary: In three years in Madrid they earned something important
Disclamer: not mine, all lies etc.
José is always showing off - one way or the other. It’s in the character, just one more of his annoyingly endearing traits. He wears his suits, one button jackets that make him look sharp and chick. He wears ridiculously expensive shirts with that air of carelessness that reminds of a fact that he was born to the family that owned half the city before the revolution struck and continued to own it even after. José who would look stunning even wearing potato sack or without it at al. The later is preferable.
José’s flirting is automatic, acquired reflex, reaction to people crowding his personal space. That is something Rui fought hard to learn to ignore. To not feel jealousy rushing through him when José is being at his charming best to some stranger. Showing off, yes. Making people admit how good he is. It is hunt for the sake of hunting – that’s what Rui learned to realize. To not take flirting seriously. To trust. To know that after enchanting another helpless victim José will come straight to him and flutter his eyelashes and ask if he was any good. Fishing for compliments, for admiration from him. Something that Rui is always willing to give.
He loves it. He likes knowing that he’s one of the few privileged spectators José is playing his one-man-show for. He knows he is important, always knew, but now even this casual charm is for him, to earn his smile and his praise. José behaves like a cat that is demanding attention and adoration and is always sure he’ll get them.
Rui doesn’t mind – he loves it. That’s his José, the real one that few people would ever see. Witty, quick, stubborn, a bit self-absorbed, a bit too cocky, a bit shy, a bit playful – his José. The man he loves. The man who loves him. The later part, still new after years of not hoping, gets to him every time José smiles. That is happiness.
The only thing he has Madrid to thank for. The biggest prize he could ever win.
Rui likes to smile. Players may call him cruel dictator (and some even are not joking), observers may label him as workaholic and too serious for his own good, but in reality he is always ready to smile, to laugh, to share a joke. In these moments he looks so very young and carefree. So innocent. So handsome. And José loves it.
José loves making Rui smile. On the pitch, during heated tactical discussion, in bed, whatever – he would always do or say something that will make Rui look at him with this open bright smile. It makes José warm inside, makes him feel powerful. And loved.
He didn’t know how much he needed it until last year. So foolishly believing that their impossibly close friendship, their almost symbiotic way of living together is enough for him, that he doesn’t need more. Maybe British scientists are right in saying that men become more clever when they reach 50 – maybe that is the reason he finally understood that in reality he loves Rui not just as a friend or as a most trusted companion. He just loves Rui, period.
Loves seeing him happy and content – and knowing that he is the reason. That is what José calls happiness. Something he never truly knew before he finally realized what his heart desires.
His main trophy he won while being with Real. The only thing he has Madrid to thank for.