Chapter Text
The air was steeped in sweat and adrenaline as the team briefly paused their training. Times were tense, as they always seem to be for a team of their stature, they had a decent leg of matches lined up for this month, and everyone had been pouring blood, sweat, and tears into their practice. This is not what they were preoccupied with at the moment.
“¡Mañana, chavales!” Ronaldo’s voice is booming through the locker room, and he’s grappling onto the slab-backs of Dani and Sergio, both of whom couldn't help but laugh at how excited the Portuguese forward got.
Tomorrow was, as declared by the Spanish government, the one night a year that single people could have sex.
It was a law that had been in place since before Sergio was born, he remembered first learning about it from a flimsy ten minute lesson sobre las cïgüeñas that his parents had given when he was about 10. By then, he had some understanding of the corporeal, from the internet and from movies.
He remembers learning why it exists, that the Spanish government wanted to outlaw premarital sex somehow, and included the “one day” thing as a loophole to not entirely hinder on the liberties of the Spanish, or whatever bullshit excuse they used. This “one day only” thing ended up being the central plot in a lot of online pornography, movies, romance novels, it even ended up being a thing people from other countries brought up to poke fun at the Spanish.
Sergio, personally, thought the law was a load of crap. Begrudgingly, he ends up following it when it is applicable, because he figures the success and fame he has isn’t worth throwing away over some quick fuck (and playing for Real Madrid, damnit, he already has his entire life analyzed by tabloids, imagine how they'd act if they find him fucking someone without a ring on a random Tuesday.) Still, he thinks, it’s a bunch of nonsense, and if he gets inundated with enough substances he’s able to poke holes in the law and rant for upwards of 5 minutes of how it doesn’t make sense and there’s no real way to enforce it, by which his teammates either feign enlightenment at his words or try to push his shoulders down.
Sergio almost instinctively finds himself looking at Luka, who was on his phone. He wondered if the midfielder had anything or anyone planned in mind for tomorrow, if he even needed to take advantage of it.
He seemed more withdrawn when it came to romantic or sexual pursuits, he was one of the few people who never bragged about his rendezvous to the team, but given how they act whenever anyone expresses even a fraction of infatuation, that could easily be an act of self preservation.
His train of thought is immediately broken by chortles and hoots coming from the rest of the team, by which he is profoundly aware that Marcelo is staring right at him. The Brazilian only smirks as Sergio straightens himself up and tries to stop thinking about Luka Modrić, instead cackling as more of his teammates rose up and began thrusting their hips forward, imitating some incredibly obscene gestures.
God. They all sounded like teen boys.
-
Sergio couldn’t stop thinking about him.
It's ridiculous, for a man like him. For the kind of player he is, for the kind of personality he has. His teammates have told him this much, that they wouldn't have expected him to be head over heels for Luka Modrić. It was an open secret for the entire team. for everyone except that damned midfielder.
Sergio swears he hasn't felt this way about anyone before. He figures it's different that he's crushing over his own teammate as opposed to any woman or man he's casually met because Luka isn't just someone casual. He's lived, breathed, moved with Luka for the past couple of years. He's seen how people underestimate Luka because of his stature, doubt his talent, suggest he isn't even meant for football.
And he's watched Luka completely blow away their expectations, even his own.
He's always been enamored with Luka, to be honest. The man was humble and modest upon introduction, but he responded well to Sergio's enthusiasm and prompts to get him closer with the team. He filled in and supported their jokes when needed, was more than willing to stay behind to support anyone — a teammate, a friend, a fan. He loved his family at Madrid and he constantly showed up, proved it. He was always around to brighten someone's day, to cheer someone up, to show his support and excitement for them in any circumstance. Luka reflected love and support.
But it was a grave mistake to assume all he was was the shy and slight Croatian player.
He was feisty, both in and out of the field. He took football very seriously, carried an energy that was equal parts exhilarating and overwhelming. He often reprimanded his teammates if they made risky attacks, whether during training or directly on matches (Sergio often remembers he had been the victim of such harsh criticism, which, looking back on, he instead smiles fondly at). Other times, he would criticize poor plays, refusing to stay passive to the performance of his teammates. He used his slight stature to attack other players, with the speed and impact of a bullet, contrary to Sergio's battering ram technique, in ways that astounded even the players who were tackled. He stood his ground and refused to compromise his style or performance for anyone. He recognized the worth he held in the game and never let anyone degrade his ability. Above all, he had always been looking for ways to improve, to get better, practicing long into the evening or rewatching matches to analyze his performances.
And Sergio doesn't blame him one bit. Knowing Luka, knowing what he gave to be able to perform football at this level, knowing how he grew up surrounded by warfare and still chose to practice, knowing football was essentially a second language, a sanctuary for the Croat.
He was head over heels. Could you blame him?
Sergio adored the man, wanted to know as much about him as he could. They often spent hours talking, wherever they could, often being the final two players to leave Valdebebas at the end of the day. He drank in the man's stories about Croatia (he tears up thinking about Luka's childhood), about his time in Dinamo Zagreb, Zrinjski, then Inter Zaprešić. About moving to England, how he struggled to pick up English at first, but moved through the language easily, just to land in Madrid with no real understanding of Spanish. Sergio remembers trying to teach him basic phrases when he could, remembers the support some of the other players - Özil, Marcelo, Ronaldo, Benzema, who also, at one point, had to bear the crux of learning another language just to integrate into a club. He remembers seeing Luka wrestle textbooks and tutoring in between practice sessions, on the bus, in the hotel rooms and lobby, after showering, really whenever he had a chance.
And he could never keep his hands off Luka. Sergio was a pretty affectionate person in his own right, and he often used his physicality as an anchor, a representation of the adoration he held for his teammates, the pride he felt for their actions, their character, their skill and performance, for them. With Luka, it was the same, except perhaps for the fact that he loved the midfielder so much that he constantly needed to show his love. Whenever his hands could, they found Luka: his hands, his hair, his waist, his shoulders, nearly anywhere and everywhere on his body. And the Croat never once pushed him off or expressed his discomfort, even through the multiple opportunities Sergio gave him in the beginning of his Real Madrid career. He found he'd always been much gentler in communicating with Luka, entirely unintentionally; the man was sweet and bubbly, but he wasn't a child, damnit. Sergio nonetheless felt that the man's presence, for the most part, calms him. Maybe except when Luka is searing insults into his skin for committing fouls left and right. But he's into that.
By day, he runs errands and cooks in the kitchen and imagines doing everything with the Croat by his side, showering him with kisses and talking about whatever came to mind. By night, he easily fits the midfielder's name in and out of his mouth, slowly letting his inhibitions ooze as he jacks himself off, wishing his fantasies weren't mere abstractions. Sergio undresses his sensibilities then, always with lube nearby, shows a sort of vulnerability he wished only one person would be the recipient of, among other things. Luka's body was phenomenal, and it's often in his physical embraces of the midfielder that he takes notice of this, marking it down in his mind for later that evening. He tries his absolute hardest not to stare in the sauna or during showers, whenever Luka is shirtless, sneaking glances here and there that, to anyone else, are beyond obvious. He wonders how Luka is in bed, how much experience he has, if he even takes advantage of the liberty of this day. He guesses that the Croat is single, someone on the team would have most certainly found out (somehow) if he had a secret lover. He wonders if Luka would boss him around, or if he would ultimately melt in all of the affection Sergio could give him.
If he can't sleep, he goes on his phone and researches Croatia, trying to find something, anything, to talk to Luka about later in that day. If the midfielder isn't around, even the mere mention of his name sends shivers down Sergio's system.
Fuck, he really was in deep.
-
Sergio was one of the last people to head out after training was finished, which wasn’t all that uncommon for the defender anyways. He took in the wash of colors that were cast above Valdebebas, tinting the world in luxurious peach and rose shades. The sight of it made him exhale a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. Luka ended up leaving earlier than usual, citing some personal matter as he rushed to get his head out of the door. It surprised Sergio, but he tried not to think of it further.
He didn't realize he wasn't alone until someone called out to him, catching up at an impressive speed: Marcelo, who caught him staring earlier. Goddamnit.
Marcelo got married less than a year into playing for Madrid, which meant he never had to deal with the repercussions that the law brought. It also meant that he was often who the men went to in complaining about the cruel touch of love. Willingly or not, he listened to people's woes, and while he had always been quite social, having to serve as the team's Dr. Love gave him prime humiliation material and an incredibly astute perspective on romance. Sergio is almost glad it's Marcelo who finds him. He'd most definitely know what to say.
Sergio eventually stops trying to evade his fellow defender and stays still, already feeling the heat creep up to him.
"I don't want to talk about it, man," is all Sergio could say, though his expression proves much different. He's practically giggling.
"Bullshit. It's all you'd ever talk about if Luka wasn't around." Marcelo retorts. Sergio hates that he's right.
"Do you even have a plan on how you'll approach him?"
Sergio shrugs, "Nada." Like it's hard? You just gotta ask someone if they want to come over and smoke weed or watch a movie and order pizza and by then your dick's already inside them.
"Are you gonna get a plan? The rest of us are practically begging for you to make a move on this man. Whatever your intentions are, tomorrow's practically the second easiest day to lock him in. The first one's already passed," Damn you, San Valentín, "This is basically the best chance you have."
Sergio lets the weight of Marcelo's words circulate in his mind. He tries to figure out what he wants to say, suddenly aware of the heaviness of his own tongue.
"I'm afraid." Is all he can get out.
"Of what, cuqui?"
"I'm afraid he'll just think I want to fuck and that's it. You don't call someone up and ask them to hang out on that day if you aren't just intending to hook up with them." Sergio thinks of all the people he spoke to on this day, how he casually asked to hang out, where it ended up. There was a mutual understanding of where the night will end up, a sexual tension entirely handed to them by the government, of all things.
"You of all people probably know, Marce, I don't want to just be a casual fling to him. I don't want him to think I'm doing this because he's hot or whatever," He totally is, though. "I - fuck - I really like him, tío, I want something genuine. I'm afraid he won't see that."
A silence hangs in the air, and he worries that he's found the one issue even Marcelo couldn't help him with, when the Brazilian starts laughing uncontrollably, stepping back and doubling over.
"Fuck, man, I never took you as a romantic!"
The blush spread as fast as it came. Sergio could only cover his face with one arm as he used the other to push Marcelo away. Hijo de puta.
"Sorry, sorry. You have no idea how long I was waiting for you to just say those words."
Clearly so, if you came out here to talk to me about it, the Andalusian thought. He doesn't even realize he's fiddling with the hem of his practice jersey.
The Brazilian takes a second to catch his breath, steadying himself on the rock of Sergio's shoulder. After he readjusts, he starts speaking, "Why are you acting like you can't just tell him that? However he interprets it, you can shut it down pretty easily. It's not like he doesn't understand what you're saying."
Sergio, Marcelo thought, had some sort of issue when it came to sincerely expressing himself in words. He wasn't sure why, Sergio was a very well-spoken person, he could articulate himself very clearly, and he often did, but he can tell the man got antsy at the thought of having to explain his love to Luka. Even getting him to admit he wanted something serious with the midfielder seemed to take the wind out of him. Poor guy. He wondered if it seemed easier for the Andalusian to express himself without words, instead relying on his physical mesh and the boundaries of his body to tell all. He must've loved Luka terribly to feel so weak and tender at just expressing this.
Indeed, Sergio knows the Brazilian is only trying to help him. Still, he thinks, he feels anxious about having finally expressing his desire for Luka to someone. He feels Marcelo's eyes on him like lasers. He nods.
"Look," Marcelo figures he'll have to explain this as succinctly as possible, he doesn't know for how long Sergio plans on wanting to discuss this, "You gotta just go for it. If you try it and it doesn't work out, big deal, you'll still have us. However Luka responds, I really don't think he'll let this affect how you guys are on the pitch. In fact, that's probably the last thing he wants," The words ricochet in Sergio's brain, "Besides, you'll never know what the fuck he's thinking if you don't tell him. He can't read your mind. We wouldn't even have to talk about this if he could."
That elicits a chuckle from Sergio. He doesn't know how long the two have spent outside Ciudad Real Madrid, but he can see Marcelo snapping into shape to depart, glaring at his near-blinding phone screen.
"It's already pretty late, I should head back now," Marcelo quickly remarks, shoving the phone into his pocket, "I'll keep my line open all day tomorrow if you wanna talk."
Again, Sergio exhales a breath he didn't realize he kept captive. "Thanks, man."
"Go get him, hermano," Marcelo says, giving Sergio a pat on the back before he turns back to jog to his car.
-
Coming to Madrid directly from Tottenham, Luka was taken aback by the law. Not that it particularly affected him, but he had grown accustomed to the laid-back attitudes on sexual behavior that England had brought him. To say he experienced social and cultural whiplash multiple times after leaving his native Croatia would be an understatement.
Even then, he thinks, Spain is still more progressive than Croatia in some regard. Same-sex marriage had been legalized around 7 years before Luka joined Real Madrid, when he was still playing in Zagreb. He'd always hoped his football career would perhaps take him somewhere where his identity wouldn't be a barrier to his success, or something that people would look down on him for before they even knew what he was capable of. Landing in Spain, then, he thought to be the absolute jackpot.
But he knew how cutthroat the football world was. Even if his new home in Madrid proved supportive, he knew the risks that came with being gay and playing professional football. He, unfortunately, had to learn this as he navigated different teams, countries, cultures, all within the gaze of journalists and the media — now finding his home in one of the most successful clubs of all time. It pained Luka to think that his dreams of getting married, maybe even starting a family, were incompatible with the one thing he wanted to keep doing until the end of eternity, the sport that brought him to such great heights.
He learned at some point to swallow down the self-hatred and shame he may have once felt for being gay, Luka thinks, now, that it's a waste of time to be ashamed about something like that, especially given his success.
But right now, he thinks, Luka was fucked. Even more than that, if that was even possible. He was beyond fucked. Luka Modrić was absolutely done for, floating in space, with no way of returning back to Earth.
He couldn't even be more obvious about it. Luka might as well have a big stamp across his forehead saying that he's beyond salvation, that he might as well pack his bags and fuck all the way off to Zadar, or maybe Antartica, or somewhere where they'll never find him, a remote shack somewhere in Scandinavian forests.
The problem has a face and a name: Sergio Ramos, number 4, the man who Luka has probably seen the most since touching down in Madrid. Really, he wasn't even a problem, far from it, but Luka's mind got ahead of himself and now the man's face is plastered in his mind and behind his eyelids and, at this point, on every wall in Luka's apartment.
Luka didn't even know why it had gotten so bad this year, he even had to excuse himself and leave practice early, fearing the defender would pull him into conversation about the wretched morrow and talk about who he planned on sleeping with, never mind the fact that they haven't even spoke to each other about their love lives.
It wasn't even that the two weren't close. In fact, Sergio was practically attached to the other man. In between trainings, after an intense match, even in casual conversation, Sergio always found himself anchored to the midfielder. His hands and body could and would be everywhere — in his hair, on his neck, around his waist, his hands, his chest, really, anywhere Sergio could find space — and Luka never took any issue with it. In fact, he always reveled in the touch, his nerves and collected tension dissolving anywhere Sergio came in contact.
But there was always some excuse for his affections: Under the guise of championship, he'd let Luka wrap his entire body around him. After Luka successfully scored a goal or delivered a pass, Sergio's hands would mess up his hair so badly that he'd have to style it out again so he could actually see. If either male were drunk, Sergio was stuck on Luka like glue, his hands resolutely fixed on his waist.
The point being — Sergio's undivided attention and affection towards the older man always had a method to its madness. Affection was a distinctly Spanish quality, that too a quality essentially affixed to the sport, and the defender was not contrary to this behavior (even if he was never this attached to his other teammates). Besides, Sergio was straight (he never said this), and he constantly talks about the women he's dating or fooling around with (with other people, out of Luka's earshot, never directly to his face, almost always somewhere where the defender doesn't even think Luka can hear him).
Still, he could never quite stop dreaming. The defender had been nothing short of supportive to Luka, ever since he was first signed to Madrid. He gave Luka a tour of the city, helped him improve his Spanish when he had the time, let him borrow hoodies or jerseys if he packed too little on trips. He was always a helping hand, someone he could lean on when he found himself exhausted, overwhelmed by the adrenaline of a game or the buzzing life of Madrid. Sergio would always check on him, make sure he wasn't biting off more than he could chew, he always found the Croat if he was cooling off after yelling at any blur of players for performing poorly, succumbing to turnovers. He always asked the midfielder about his life, about Croatia, little bits and things that could have Luka talking for hours nonstop, not that Sergio ever did stop him. They both could talk about any and everything and they did, finding themselves wherever they can and instantly letting the conversation flow like sangria. He did all of this even without the expectation of his presence, without needing any guarantee that Luka would reciprocate his endless kindness.
Sergio, he thinks, was bright and unapologetic. He took up space without feeling the need to compromise, He was brash and risky and it translated on the field. He often made bold gestures that cost either him or the team. He was action before plan. He went into things knowing it was now or never. And yet. And yet the defender was so thoughtful around Luka, so patient. He made mistakes and accepted the flurry of rage Luka would throw at him. He showered Luka in praise and affection when he could, not even Luka, just about everyone in the team. Sergio practically radiated sunlight, and Luka knew he was basking in it, and he knew that Sergio was letting him.
Wherever he was, Sergio was with him. It's always been like this. Luka wants it to stay this way forever.
He knows he risks this bond which, he thinks, is meant to be infinite, with just the words he keeps captive in his mind. It's incredible, the Croat thinks, that he's capable of taking something unshakeable and turning it into a fragile little thing. Really just wonderful.
If he could just never speak for the rest of his life, he could hold on to the one thing that tethers him into personhood, into a capacity to be admired, loved, adored.
Unfortunately, it seems like both nature and his teammates were trying to nudge him the other way:
Toni K.
Mira, tío, no hay mejor momento que mañana para hacerlo - hace 5 min.
(Look, man, there couldn't be a better time to do this than tomorrow - 5 min. ago)
As if his phone was signaling to Kroos that the Croat was ignoring him, he chimed in again:
Toni K.
No tienes por qué hacer nada que no quieras; mucha gente también aprovecha este día para declararse a la persona que le gusta, como si fuera un segundo Día de San Valentín. - ahora
(You don't have to do anything you don't want to; many people also use this day just to confess to the person that they like, almost as if it were a second Valentine's Day - now)
Poor Toni. He doesn't even know how or when the German got dragged into this. The least he could do is accept his advice, but still, it tugs at his brain:
Luka M.
Pero es demasiado arriesgado, Lo veo todos los días, jugamos juntos en el campo como si fuéramos hermanos. ¿Cómo voy a tener el valor de mirarlo a la cara si le suelto eso y me rechaza? - hace 2 segundos.
(It's too risky though. I see him every day, I play with him on the pitch like he's a brother. How will I be able to even look at him if I tell him and he rejects me? - 2 secs. ago)
...
Toni K.
Probablemente seas la única persona que podría decirle eso sin que se enfade. Aunque no lo acepte, os conocéis desde hace tanto tiempo que estoy seguro de que entenderá lo que le estás diciendo. - ahora
(You are, maybe, the only person who could tell him that and not have him blow up. Even if he doesn't accept it, you two have known each other so long, I'm sure he'll understand where you're coming from - now)
Además, ¿no sería mejor si él también compartiera tus sentimientos? Como has dicho, os veis todos los días. ¿Cómo sabes que él no siente lo mismo? - ahora
(Also, all the better if he does reconcile your feelings, no? Like you've said, you two see each other every day. How do you know if he doesn't feel the same? - now)
Oye, si te da miedo, yo se lo confesar primero. Si me dice que no, pues tú lo intentas. ¿Vale? - ahora
(Listen, if you're scared, I can confess to him first. If he says no, then you can try instead. Deal? - now)
Luka smiles at the gesture. He feels a bit lighter at Toni's suggestion that the Andalusian may like him back. He wonders if he's noticing something that makes him say that, if he has a third eye of sorts. He'll try to do the man a favor, for all the times he sat in and listened.
Luka M.
Jajajaja tu cabrón - ahora
(Lol, you asshole - now)
Ya se está haciendo tarde, me voy a tirar a dormir. Gracias por haber hablado conmigo de esto. Le escribiré por la mañana. - ahora
(It's getting late, I'm going to sleep now. I appreciate you talking to me about this. I'll write to Sergio in the morning. - now)
Oye, tú también deberías pegarte una dormida. Buenas noches, q descanses. - ahora
(Hey, you should probably get some sleep too. Good night, sweet dreams. - now)
Toni K. reacted "❤️" to your message
Toni K.
Bien. Que duermas bien. - ahora
(Good. Sleep well. - now)
Luka closes his phone and tries to sleep. He hopes to dream of nothing.
-
It's the first notification Sergio gets when he wakes up.
EL PAIS - 6 de abril: ¿El único día que el sexo es legal? Que saber sobre esta ley extraña
This was going to be a long day, Sergio reckons. He decides to check his Instagram feed and is met with a video of him and Luka interspersed to romantic music that he had been watching before he went to bed. He bites his lip and laughs, figuring this is the universe's way of taunting him. He double taps the video and sets the phone down, heading to the bathroom.
The team took it upon themselves to declare a free day, which somehow bypassed any and all dissenting voices. Yesterday's conversation still lingered in Sergio's mind, which unsettles and nearly buckles him down. He has no idea how he's meant to introduce this to Luka without being painfully obvious what his intentions are. He tries to progress through his day, burning holes into the speckled kitchen tile while he whips up some eggs. He doesn't even have a plan B. If Luka doesn't work, he might just cry in his room until somebody shows up and drags him from the bed.
Whatever happens afterwards is rather uneventful. Sergio heads to the gym, trying to keep his mind off Luka, and ignoring the occasional notification when he can. He knows the rest of the team are either discussing general plans or incredibly crude escapades. Either way, he thinks, Sergio doesn't want anything to do with it, for now.
In between sets, he checks his phone to see a single text from Marcelo:
Marce
Anda bro 😘 - hace 1 hr.
(Come on bro 😘 - 1 hr. ago)
Sergio leaves a "❤️".
The rest of the day cycles through, and Sergio immediately heads into the shower, instead cranking the dial to a warmer temperature to let the steam and water melt him. He tries to be easy on himself when he checks his phone and sees a notification that nearly makes him slam the mobile into the wall:
Lukitaa💘
Eyyy, ¿¿¿q haces esta noche??? - hace 12 min.
(Heyyy, what are you doing tonight?? - 12 min. ago)
Or quien (who), he's sure Luka wanted to ask. That alone makes him snort. But he still can't deny the way the message sent a jolt down his spine and across his sides.
He stares at his phone for a good 3 minutes, watching the time stamp on the message change digits. Is this real? Was the Croat pranking him? Did someone set him up to this?
Sergio tries to take a breath in.
Ok, how should he respond? Is it worth being risky? He remembers Marcelo's words from yesterday, and figures Luka knew what he was getting into if he asks Sergio today of all days. He can't believe how shy he feels because of this man:
Sergio
No te gustaría saber? ;)) - ahora
(Wouldn't you like to know? ;)) - now)
Que onda? - ahora
(What's up? - now)
He watches the 3 dots dance on the screen, his body alight. Sergio didn't know why he felt so nervous, he hadn't even been the one to ask Luka. But he's so excited and so scared and all he wanted to do was run a marathon right now, even though he was still sore from working out. His sweat felt cold on his skin, like needles. He wondered what Luka was doing in the 15 minutes before he responded: if he panicked and considered deleting the message; if he sent it and moved on with his life; if he stared at his phone the entire time, waiting for the blue bubbles to form.
Lukitaa💘
Encontré una peli q seguro te flipa. Es un terror de fantasmas q pasa en Sevilla - hace 13 segundos.
(I found a movie I think you'll like. It's a ghost horror movie set in Sevilla - 13 secs. ago)
A beat. Then another message:
Lukitaa💘
Si hoy estás ocupado, no pasa nada, lo vemos un otro día - ahora
(It's fine if you're busy. We can watch it another time - now)
Sergio swears his fingers never worked faster,
Sergio
Libre. Cuando puedo ir? - ahora
(I'll be free. When can I come? - now)
Lukitaa💘
¿A 7 te va bien? :) - ahora
(Does 7 work for you? :) - now)
Sergio
Vale. Hasta pronto, Lukita. - ahora
(Perfect. See you soon, Lukita - now)
Lukitaa💘 reacted "❤️" to your message
Fuck.
Fuck.
Mierda. Hijo de puta. Joder. Maldita sea. Que. Que? ¿Que? ¿Qué coño está pasando?
Did that just happen? Did he agree to that? Is the message real? He stares at it, twice, again, another time, to make sure he really just confirmed it, that he didn't say anything wrong, that he didn't accidentally insult Luka's mother.
Sergio's heart is practically a jackhammer. He tries to swipe to text Marcelo but the sweat on his fingers makes the screen glide. He has to put the phone away and sit down.
He sits down. He tries to think it over, that the Croat mentioned watching it another time, maybe he just happened to find it today and recommended it to Sergio, but he's so giddy and his legs are bouncing and he can't wipe the smile off his face. Luka surely knew the implications of the message, he would have said if he meant otherwise. Dios en el cielo, did he have a chance?
...
And what the hell was he supposed to do for the next 4 hours?