[Football] Bad Boy Batty

The team doctors' examination results showed that there was no problem with Batistuta's calf and he could still play the entire game in the final minutes.

After the team doctor left, Batty put on his socks, stood up, moved his ankle, and walked into the court at the signal of the referee.

Seeing him come in, Neymar touched his nose and said, "Are you here to take this penalty?"

"No, you come." Batty refused without thinking.

This was a little unexpected for Neymar. "You don't want it?" he asked. "A hat-trick opportunity."

"Ramos just kicked my shin guard, so I won't be able to use enough power on the penalty kick." Batty took the ball from the referee and stuffed it into Neymar's arms, "Here you go, kick it."

"Really?" Neymar was skeptical. He had been tackled before (often), so he knew that being kicked on the shin guard would not affect the penalty kick at all.

"Fake." Batty rolled his eyes at him. "Why are you talking so much nonsense? If you're afraid of losing the kick, just say so. If you can't do it, give it to me."

Neymar suddenly understood what Batistuta meant, and would rather give him the ball than get a hat-trick, so that he could get more credit in this victory that might have turned into a 4-1 victory (it seemed).

What a jerk this little bastard is.

Handicap?

When does he need to let others give him the ball? Participating in defensive retreat is his own choice and also Guardiola's requirement. There is no goal without it. He only cares about whether the team wins or loses.

Totally unnecessary.

"Hey! The referee is watching us, do you want to go?"

"Don't push--" Neymar laughed, "If you're still in pain, let me take the penalty." He dodged Batistuta's hand and walked to the penalty spot holding the ball.

Forget it, just consider it as satisfying the little bastard's wish.

"This is my chance to score a hat trick, now it's yours." Batty patted him on the back and said, "If you miss the free throw, I'll beat you up!"

Neymar wiped the surface of the ball with his jersey, placed it in place, and stepped back.

'Trust me,' he thought, 'I won't miss.'

Run up and shoot.

【The ball went in! Neymar's penalty was as steady as ever. Courtois guessed the direction correctly, but the ball was very fast and the angle was tricky. From the replay, he only touched the ball with his fingertips. 4-1! There is no suspense anymore. Manchester City will return to Etihad with a 4-goal advantage. It can be said that the Blue Moon Army has one foot in the Champions League quarter-finals now! 】

This score was maintained until the end, and Manchester City defeated the tough opponent Real Madrid with a 4-1 victory, which also made them the third team in the history of the Champions League to win at the Bernabeu tonight.

After the game, Batty lived up to expectations and took home the MVP trophy.

After the interview, he exchanged jerseys with Bale. According to the original plan, he should have exchanged jerseys with Ramos, but Ramos got himself sent off, and Batistuta could not take his jersey to the Real Madrid locker room to exchange it (although he wanted to do so), so he did not refuse when Bale found him.

Just like that, Batistuta returned to the locker room empty-handed with the No. 11 white Real Madrid jersey on his shoulders. He didn't notice anything wrong at all, and even listened leisurely to Guardiola's praise for everyone.

Almost 10 minutes passed.

Real Madrid dressing room:
"Gareth, where did you get this trophy?"

Manchester City dressing room:
"Where's your MVP trophy, Batty?"

At this moment, the two men who had exchanged jerseys after the game realized that Batistuta was too lazy to take off his clothes and asked Bale to keep the trophy temporarily, and the trophy was kept in the Real Madrid locker room.

Batty: ...
Batty: puta
Under the teasing eyes of his teammates, he casually put on a coat and walked towards the door. Now he had to go to the Real Madrid locker room.

"Hahaha, has winning made you too erratic, Batistuta?" Lucas laughed and joked, "You can even lose something like a trophy. If you score a few more goals, will you lose yourself too?"

"Shut up Luki." Batistuta gave the French defender the middle finger. "If you say this kind of bullshit again, I will stuff it into your mouth when I get the trophy back!"

Lucas made an exaggerated "I'm so scared" gesture, which looked particularly funny with his expression, making everyone present burst out laughing.

"Childish." Batty finally rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

At the moment the door was closed, the entire locker room erupted in crazy laughter, and almost every Bernabeu staff member who passed by cast contemptuous looks at them.

Hum, British.

……

When Batistuta followed the staff to the passage on the Real Madrid side, he never expected that Courtois had already changed his clothes and was standing there waiting for him, holding the trophy he was looking for.

"Hi." The Belgian goalkeeper smiled and teased, "Did you lose anything?"

Batty walked up to him and looked up at him, not in a hurry to get the trophy back, "I thought you would be in a bad mood after losing the game."

"Yes, we lost the game, but that doesn't mean anything." Courtois looked completely unaffected, and he even raised the corners of his mouth again, "There's still the second round."

"We have three goals difference and four away goals, you sound very confident." Batistuta chuckled, looking up at a 3-foot-4 giant who made his neck uncomfortable.

"Of course, I am the best goalkeeper in football now." Courtois said this without much pride, as if he was stating a fact. He really thinks he is the best in the world.

Batty sighed a little in his heart.

In a way, he is a bit similar to De Bruyne.

"Of course it's more than that." The Belgian goalkeeper suddenly changed the subject. "I came to see you, Batistuta. You're the first person I met online who I can talk to in real life. I can't meet you with a sad face."

"Oh, you are really good at talking." Batistuta looked straight into the other's eyes. Courtois had a pair of innocent droopy eyes, and his brown pupils made people feel that he would be a very gentle and interesting guy. It was hard to imagine that he had done disgusting things such as backstabbing his teammates, backstabbing the club, and backstabbing everything.

"But I'm here to get the trophy," Batty said. "I have to go back quickly because there will be a celebration party later. I absolutely cannot miss it."

"Don't go." Courtois deliberately hid the trophy behind him, "You said we should go to the dock to get some French fries after the game."

"Yeah, but it's just over and we're still on the court," Batty shrugged. "Give me the trophy, honey. I'll call you after we're done celebrating."

"No, I want it now. There are some things I want to tell you now." Courtois turned and walked into the stadium. "Come with me. I'll take you somewhere. It won't take you long."

Batistuta looked at the time on his phone. There were still 20 minutes left before the deadline set by Guardiola for getting on the bus. If he went with him, he would most likely not be able to make it back to the locker room in time to pack his things and get on the bus to return.

but--

"Come?" Courtois asked as he stood at the corner, the stadium lights shrouding half of his body in darkness. "You can trust me, Batistuta, but forget it if you're scared."

God.
This guy still wants to provoke him.

Batistuta crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at the ground, but curiosity eventually got the better of him. He nodded and followed Courtois into the depths of the Bernabeu Stadium.

Two minutes later, in the Manchester City locker room, Loach received a text message from Batistuta.

Batty: Help me pack my things, I have something to do, let's meet on the bus later
Batty: After packing your stuff, remember to go in front of Kevin. If he asks you, just say I went out to look for someone. Don't say anything else.
Batty: If someone asks you, tell them the truth
Batistuta: By the way, tell Pep I won't miss the bus

……

After walking for about 3 minutes, they came to a dusty grocery room. At a glance, it was clear that no one had been there for a long time. There was a table in the room, but the strange thing was that the table was new and did not fit in with the overall environment. It seemed that someone had prepared it in advance and placed it here.

Courtois is more proactive than expected.

The first thing he said was, “We’re here.”
And the second thing he said was: "I'm going to kiss you."

Without even giving Batistuta a chance to react, the Belgian goalkeeper turned around and carried him to sit on the table. He put his hands on the back of Batistuta's head and leaned forward, directly blocking his lips.

"Well, you-"

While Batistuta was about to speak, Courtois deepened the kiss. He was much more experienced than he looked, but he had no skills at all. He had a natural masculine arrogance and sense of conquest.

Batty didn't hate this.
In fact, he felt pretty good.

So Batistuta put his hand on Courtois' shoulder, kissed him back, spread his knees, and tapped Courtois' butt with his heel. Courtois' palm slid across Batistuta's thigh. After the game, before he had time to change his shorts and socks, the Belgian goalkeeper reached out and covered the intersection of his leg skin and socks, then went all the way to his knees, and then from his knees to the edge of his shorts.

It was a passionate kiss that the table shook with them, making sounds of it almost collapsing from time to time, and the Champions League MVP trophy was also tottering on the edge.

The kiss ended quickly.

"It feels good." Courtois looked up at him and whispered, "You know, I've wanted to try it for a long time, as early as when I was in the Premier League."

"You're lying." Batistuta gasped and clamped Courtois' chin. "You didn't even know me when we were in the Premier League."

"I know you," Courtois replied. "I wouldn't have noticed you, but you were always with Kevin, and you were so good, so good that—"

——So good that he wanted to destroy it.

"Kevin?" Batty was surprised. "You call him Kevin?" "What else?" Courtois reached out and stroked Batty's hair. "What do you want me to call him?"

"I don't know." Batty chuckled, "I didn't expect you two were so close."

"There are many things you haven't thought of." Courtois lowered his head and pinched Batistuta's tip. "It feels it, do you?"

"Don't change the subject." Batty didn't want to continue. "So you and Kevin are friends?"

Courtois sneered without even thinking. "I wouldn't say that."

"But you called him Kevin."

"Yes, I call him Kevin because I regard him as a friend." The Belgian goalkeeper said not seriously, "Bati, you know, he never regarded me as a friend."

Batty didn't believe it. "That doesn't sound like Kevin at all." He said, "Kevin is very easy to get along with."

"That's because he likes you." Courtois' tone revealed a little bit of different emotions. "We knew each other when we were very young. I thought we were friends, but he didn't take me seriously at all. He thought he was a genius and he could do anything on the court. No one was better than him. No matter how many goals I saved, I was not worthy of being compared with him."

This sounds a bit like Kevin.
Unconscious arrogance, coupled with a bit of natural straightforwardness, does seem to have this effect to some people.

Batty couldn't help but burst out laughing.

“I smell jealousy,” he said. “And it sounds like — I hate to say this, but Tebow, you sound obsessed with comparing yourself to Kevin.”

"Maybe." Courtois didn't care about Batistuta's comments on him, probably because chatting about everything online for a long time made it easier for him to open up to him. "I hate his condescending attitude, so I thought, why not take something from him."

"Take the stuff," Batty repeated.

"Yes," Courtois said, looking up into those blue eyes.

The results speak for themselves.
He's going to take that guy's stuff, like you.

Batistuta knew what Courtois had not said. He smiled with his eyes curved, reached out and gently stroked the other's cheek, then pinched Courtois' chin hard and pulled him closer.

"I admire your courage, but make no mistake." Blue to Brown, "I am not his, he does not own me, on the contrary, he is mine."

Courtois was stunned by Batistuta's sudden burst of momentum. His seemingly innocent eyes showed a little confusion. He stepped back and examined Batistuta from head to toe.

Batty sat lazily on the table, humming a song and swinging his legs, then he crossed his feet.

"Do you still want to rob now?"

……

After midnight, Batty got on the bus on time as he said. According to Loach's feedback, almost everyone asked him where he was going.

Everything went as he had imagined.

Batty found a chair and lay down. Based on his understanding of the person, he knew that the person would come to find him later, at the latest on his way back to his hotel room.

If nothing else, there will be an accident.

The bus broke down on the road, and the administrator urgently contacted the chairman and the vehicle company. After a series of inspections, it was determined that it was not a serious problem. The repair crew set out quickly, and they would be back on the road in 40 minutes at most.

Guardiola was somewhat unhappy with the department responsible for checking and repairing the car, but he ultimately said nothing.

The excitement after the game has passed, the players are very tired, most of them choose to catch up on sleep in the car, the extra 40 minutes is just enough for them to rest.

The car was parked on the side of the road, all the lights were off, and there was no other sound in the car except for a few very loud snoring.

Batty didn't want to sleep, so he took out his headphones and listened to music.

The bus breakdown was not part of his plan. He had an extra 40 minutes of rest time. By the time he got back to the hotel and sobered up, there would definitely be people clamoring to go straight to the nightclub, so he would have to reconsider.

Just as he was thinking about how to squeeze out some time for Kevin——

In the darkness, two hands firmly lifted his head and shoulders.

"Hey!"

The man lifted his upper body up, then took the opportunity to sit on the seat, then put him down, leaving Batty lying on his back on the other's legs.

It only took him a few seconds to realize who this guy was.

Oh.
Missed this.

Batty laughed.
De Bruyne could have taken advantage of the 40 minutes that the bus was parked on the side of the road to find him.

He placed the back of the phone against his neck and used the dim light from the screen to illuminate the other person's face. Sure enough, the Belgian midfielder had no expression on his face.

"Hi, Kevin," Batty whispered.

De Bruyne ignored him.

"Do you want to hear some music?" Batty asked.

De Bruyne still ignored him.

"Okay." Batty took off one of his headphones and put it on the other's ear. "Maluma's new song, a collaboration with Jason Derulo, is called "La Ex". It's very nice."

De Bruyne continued silent, but he never took his eyes off Batistuta's face from the moment he sat down.

"You fascinate me so much that I don't need to seduce you deliberately." Batistuta hummed softly, and the song was repeated 5 or 6 times. He quietly observed the Belgian midfielder above, and to his surprise, De Bruyne still had a cold face.

So he decided to take the initiative.

"So Kevin, are you here to make peace?" Batty asked.

As soon as this question was asked, De Bruyne finally responded.

"You wish." He replied with a sarcastic sneer.

Batty didn't care much about the other party's obvious rejection. The response meant that they could communicate, which meant that the problem could be solved.

"So what are you going to do?" Batty asked again.

"Nothing." De Bruyne said bluntly, "Just watching you sleep."

"Really? But I don't want to sleep." Batty blinked, "Besides, you'll feel anxious if you see me unable to sleep."

"Do you know?"

"Of course." Batty reached out and grabbed his hand, then slowly pressed it over his heart, "Do you feel it?"

De Bruyne continued to have that sarcastic sneer on his face. He broke free from Batistuta's hand and moved away from the beating heart to his neck.

"I didn't feel anything."

After saying that, he took away Batty's phone, and the last source of light disappeared.

"Kevin?"

From light to darkness, Batistuta was like a blind man. He felt De Bruyne's anger and sadness. At the moment he broke free from his hand and took away the light, Batistuta admitted that he was a little panicked.

"Kay..."

The rest was drowned in De Bruyne's pressing kiss.

……

40 minutes later, the bus restarted as expected, the lights came on, and Batistuta was no different from before, still lying alone in a row of seats, listening to music and browsing his phone.

Soon the entire Manchester City team returned to the hotel and celebrated the victory at a nearby nightclub hosted by the chairman. Then in the early morning they went to the airport and took a special plane back to Manchester.

Business as usual.

At least on the surface.

(End of this chapter)