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nahco3 asked for this! so it's her fault! yeah, we're going with that.
facilmente a t'ingannar
"Jesus Christ, Mario," Roberto spat. He couldn't even bring himself to look at him yet; instead he threw his hands in the air and spun around to glare at the wall. "Why do you always--you are such a fucking idiot, I should fucking sell you to fucking Russia and get you out of my hair!"
"So why don't you?" Mario asked, almost perfectly monotone. "If I'm such a nuisance--" and there it was, the tiniest crack in his voice, and Roberto knew it wasn't enough to hang a hope on but he'd never seen the point in gambling on a safe bet.
"Because I'm a fucking idiot too," he sighed. He was calm enough for this now--he knew his own temper better than his children, these days--so he turned and looked at Mario, at the smoldering resentment that he wore like a suit of armor over whatever it was he was trying to protect. Sometimes when Roberto was in a bad mood he thought that maybe there was nothing underneath; that there was nothing to Mario but pointless, directionless rage. But he couldn't bring himself to believe it. "Mario. Mario, I'm not asking you for anything you can't do." Mario stared at him, expressionless. Roberto throttled down the urge to punch him, if only to get some kind of proof that he was listening. "I am not asking you to be perfect. I am asking you to try. I will protect you, I will say or do whatever I need to in order to keep you, but there is no fucking point if you're not going to try."
"I am--" Mario started to say, the words ground out like wheat under a millstone.
"No," Roberto cracked sharply. "You're not. Not hard enough. But you will, or I'm done with you. Understand? Promise me."
"I promise," Mario mumbled. It seemed to take him a very long time to say it, but Roberto didn't know if that was some trick of his own mind, stretching out the syllables like taffy. "I promise I'll try."
Roberto waited until he looked down, and then the spell was broken. With one of his other players maybe he would have reached out for a backslap or embrace or just a touch on the arm, but it was different with Mario. It had to be. "Good," he said briskly. "Get back to your teammates and apologize for letting them down, and it's forgotten. Mario," he added, when he had already turned to leave. "You can trust me, you know. I will always take care of you, if you'll let me."
Mario left. Roberto walked back to his desk with the footsteps of an old man and sank into his chair, and allowed himself one moment to vainly hope that this would be the time it worked.
ETA: what the hell, I have decided to be a shut-in tonight and I want to write two more drabbles so I can have an even ten when I crosspost to fbslash. anybody else want one? no promises but leave a prompt or a character or whatever and I'll see what I can do. XD
nahco3 asked for this! so it's her fault! yeah, we're going with that. facilmente a t'ingannar
"Jesus Christ, Mario," Roberto spat. He couldn't even bring himself to look at him yet; instead he threw his hands in the air and spun around to glare at the wall. "Why do you always--you are such a fucking idiot, I should fucking sell you to fucking Russia and get you out of my hair!"
"So why don't you?" Mario asked, almost perfectly monotone. "If I'm such a nuisance--" and there it was, the tiniest crack in his voice, and Roberto knew it wasn't enough to hang a hope on but he'd never seen the point in gambling on a safe bet.
"Because I'm a fucking idiot too," he sighed. He was calm enough for this now--he knew his own temper better than his children, these days--so he turned and looked at Mario, at the smoldering resentment that he wore like a suit of armor over whatever it was he was trying to protect. Sometimes when Roberto was in a bad mood he thought that maybe there was nothing underneath; that there was nothing to Mario but pointless, directionless rage. But he couldn't bring himself to believe it. "Mario. Mario, I'm not asking you for anything you can't do." Mario stared at him, expressionless. Roberto throttled down the urge to punch him, if only to get some kind of proof that he was listening. "I am not asking you to be perfect. I am asking you to try. I will protect you, I will say or do whatever I need to in order to keep you, but there is no fucking point if you're not going to try."
"I am--" Mario started to say, the words ground out like wheat under a millstone.
"No," Roberto cracked sharply. "You're not. Not hard enough. But you will, or I'm done with you. Understand? Promise me."
"I promise," Mario mumbled. It seemed to take him a very long time to say it, but Roberto didn't know if that was some trick of his own mind, stretching out the syllables like taffy. "I promise I'll try."
Roberto waited until he looked down, and then the spell was broken. With one of his other players maybe he would have reached out for a backslap or embrace or just a touch on the arm, but it was different with Mario. It had to be. "Good," he said briskly. "Get back to your teammates and apologize for letting them down, and it's forgotten. Mario," he added, when he had already turned to leave. "You can trust me, you know. I will always take care of you, if you'll let me."
Mario left. Roberto walked back to his desk with the footsteps of an old man and sank into his chair, and allowed himself one moment to vainly hope that this would be the time it worked.
ETA: what the hell, I have decided to be a shut-in tonight and I want to write two more drabbles so I can have an even ten when I crosspost to fbslash. anybody else want one? no promises but leave a prompt or a character or whatever and I'll see what I can do. XD
