[Football] Bad Boy Batty

【Gooooooal! 6-0! Batistuta scored the last goal for us at the last second, with an assist from Neymar. Bolivia was completely helpless. The boys are really great. They are not affected by the recent rumors at all. Shut up those who say that the Brazilian team is not united now! 】

When Batistuta came out of the bathroom wiping his hair, Neymar was almost asleep, with most of his body lying outside the bed, his clothes still on, his shoes still on, a corner of the quilt covering his stomach, with a tablet on top, playing the news of their big win over Bolivia on a loop.

In mid-October, the South American World Cup qualifiers began. They temporarily put aside club training and returned to Brazil to compete. In the first match, they played at home against Bolivia. Due to the disparity in strength, even though Brazil only had an acting head coach who arranged some tactics that could not be considered tactics before the game, they still won easily with the powerful firepower of Batistuta and Neymar.

"Wake up, Ney, hey—" Batty went over and kicked his calf, "Didn't you say you were going to physical therapy? Why didn't you go?"

"Ugh!" Neymar woke up suddenly, and he sat up subconsciously. The tablet on his stomach slipped and fell to the floor. Batistuta raised his leg to catch it, shook it twice and then handed it to his hand, pausing the video by the way. His movements were smooth and done in one go.

“Do you use the news as sleep music?”

"No, I saw the title of this video said that I was about to break Pele's national team record, and I wanted to hear what he said." Neymar rubbed his eyes and answered, his face still blank as if he had just woken up.

He looked up at Batty: "Are you done washing?"

Batty raised his eyebrows, pointed at his pajamas with a look of 'what nonsense are you talking about'.

Neymar stuck out his tongue, then yawned and lay back on the bed. This time he took off his shoes and looked more like he was going to sleep.

"Before I took a bath, you said you were going to physical therapy. Now I'm out, but you haven't gone yet." Batty crossed his arms and teased, "What, did you stand up the team doctor?"

"I wanted to go - um." Neymar yawned and said, "I swear I didn't mean to leave them alone. I'm just very sleepy. I haven't been in the mood for anything lately, except when I'm on the court." He squirmed a few times like a worm, and finally took out his mobile phone from under his buttocks. "Please talk to the medical team for me, Batistuta. I'll go later."

"No help." Batty walked around his hand in the air and sat down on his bed next to him. "There will be activities later. Dani invited everyone to play darts and billiards. If you go for physical therapy in advance, you won't miss it."

Neymar took his hand back, covered his head in the quilt and muttered for a long time, and finally called the medical team to change the time. After the call, he threw the phone away, pulled Batistuta to his side, and then lay on Batistuta's legs. A few minutes later, snoring sounded in the room again.

"Oh my god—" Barty rolled his eyes, "Am I here to be your pillow?"

Neymar seemed to wake up briefly for a few seconds. He said something in a low voice, then buried his face deeper, wrapping himself in the fresh smell of Batistuta's shower gel, and soon stopped talking again.

"What the hell are the aftereffects?" Batistuta turned around and grabbed a real pillow to replace himself. Then he stood by and blew his hair in annoyance while looking at Neymar who was not awake at all. He complained in a low voice: "I told you to have a good rest and not to participate in this national team. You will play against Manchester United next weekend and Liverpool in the middle of the week. What are you going to play for if you tire yourself to death?"

"...It'll be fine, I promise." Neymar woke up again, pushed the pillow and said to Batistuta, "I don't want to miss any national team games, nor do I want to miss any chance for us to be alone. It's different here than in Manchester City. This is Brazil."

"Mm-hmm, that's sweet, dear, but I have to say, you almost slept through our alone time." Barty gave a fake smile, "Except for the competition, you slept all the time. Pigeon even asked me if you took the wrong medicine."

"Nonsense."

"I meant what I said. You even fell asleep while we were doing it. I was basically using you as myself. God, what was the point of having you?"

"You were so sweet last night, calling my name, and even yanked away the [New Granular Version] I specially prepared to tell me to hurry up, why are you suddenly losing your memory now?"

"For once you were satisfactory."

"Then tonight -"

"Not tonight, you missed it. I have an appointment with a tattoo artist."

"Oh!" Hearing this, Neymar became interested. He straightened himself and sat down. "What do you want to tattoo?"

"The initials of Loach and Qiaolin." Batty pulled out the phone from the bedside. "I asked someone to design it. It's similar to the Family on your body."

"Aren't you going to get a tattoo of me?"

"Ha!" Barty didn't even raise his head. He thought he was joking. "You don't even have a tattoo, and you want me to tattoo you?"

"I wanted to tattoo you, but I was afraid it would scare you. I scared Rafina before."

"You really want to." Battido glanced at the sports news and noticed that in two days, Brazil would play away against Peru on the same day that France and Germany would have a friendly match. He said casually, "Okay, get a tattoo, but you have to wait in line. I have many more tattoos to get."

"It's okay, I can wait, and the design process also takes time. I'll think about the picture myself first, add our names and various elements, and then find someone to modify it - I'll think about which tattoo artist is better at this." Neymar became more sober and excited as he spoke. After he finished speaking, he picked up his phone to check the schedules of various tattoo artists and designers in the list.

hiss--

Something doesn't seem right.

"Wait, are you serious?" Batty looked up in surprise. "Do you really think it's a good idea for us to tattoo each other on our bodies?"

"Why not?" Neymar said, "I often see couple tattoos on Instagram, they are very cute, and every time I see them I think we should get one, or a few, or whatever you like."

Neymar, no longer sleepy, has regained his former spirit and even become more talkative.

Batty put down his phone and looked at him for a long time. After making sure that he was not in a whim, he suddenly smiled. It was a little different from his usual indifferent smile, but it was not obvious. "Then let's get the same tattoo," he said. "There is no room on the arm, chest and back. Do you want a waist or a leg?"

"Uh--"

"It's more noticeable around the waist." Batty said, lifting up his bathrobe. He looked around his body, bent his knees and raised his legs. "The thighs are also fine. It's still clean there. Do you think it's better here, here, or here?"

He tapped just above the knee, the front of the thigh, and the inner thigh.

Neymar sat down and reached out to touch Batistuta's knees. "If you were here, you would think of me every time you put on your socks, every time you put on your bandages, every time you lower your head."

Upwards, his hand came to the smooth surface of the front skin. "Here, every time you put on your shorts, every time you sit in the bathtub, even in Pep's tactical class, as long as you lift your legs, you will think of me."

Continuing to move, the speed slowed down a lot.

Batty could feel his increasingly hot palms and his increasingly heavy breathing, but soon he could no longer feel it because the heartbeat in his chest was so loud that it almost filled Batty's entire body.

After almost a century, we finally arrived at the last place. "And if it were here——"

During this century, every time his hand moved, he was an inch closer to Batty.

By now he had almost trapped Barty in his bed.

Batistuta looked down at his hands, then slowly raised his head and looked Neymar in the eye, "Here, what about it?" With the atmosphere at this point, only a fool would do nothing.

"If it's tattooed here--" Neymar whispered against Batistuta's lips, "Every time, every time, every time I'm inside you in the future, you'll feel it, I'm here."

After saying that, he kissed her.

But surprisingly, Neymar did not kiss his lips. Instead, he kissed the back of his hand which was covering his mouth.

No kissing allowed?

What about other places?

Neymar wanted to change positions and kiss, but wherever he kissed, Batistuta would put his hand to block it.

He was stunned. "Barty!"

"Oh sweetheart, you must have forgotten. Not today, I have to go to Dani's place and you have to go for physical therapy. Not tomorrow either, my tattoo project is huge. And the day after tomorrow we are leaving for Peru for the competition, which is even worse." Batty put on a look of successful revenge, "You slept through the time, this is your punishment."

"But we—"

"It's okay, one time is also impressive." Batistuta patted Neymar's silly face, got out from under his arms, and then changed his clothes happily. At the same time, he did not forget to take the time to remind his dear roommate and lover: "Hurry up, Ney. I don't think the team doctors will want you to delay the physical therapy until the evening. If that's the case, you may not be able to play in the next game against Peru."

By the time I finished talking, I had just changed my clothes.

Batistuta picked up the tablet and casually scratched his half-dry hair, turned around and blew Neymar a kiss, then opened the door and went out with a smile.

……

Two days later, Brazil traveled to Peru to participate in the second round of the qualifiers. Most of the main players of the Peruvian team were unable to play due to the new crown and did not pose much threat to them. Brazil won easily, and Neymar was only one goal away from breaking Pele's Brazilian national team goal record.

After the game, Neymar was surrounded by reporters, and various questions about the America's Cup, the head coach, and his goal record followed one after another.

Batistuta ignored his distress signals and let him be bombarded with questions, but on his way back to the locker room, he was stopped by a group of reporters. However, these people did not seem to be reporters from serious newspapers, and they were not there to ask him questions.

From these people, he learned an astonishing news: France lost to Germany in a friendly match, and Germany's only goal occurred in the 56th second of the game, assisted by Kimmich and scored by Thomas Muller, and in the last 95 minutes, Mbappe missed the chance to equalize the game because of a slip.

When Batti heard the news, he was silent at first.

Then--

In front of all the reporters from the dishonest newspapers, he held his stomach and laughed until he was dizzy.

……

The atmosphere in the French team's locker room was not very pleasant.

"It's just a friendly match. Don't look so sad, everyone. Can't you see? This is a chance for us to make mistakes. It's rare to concede a goal in the first minute of the game, but it also means that we have a big problem. Find it, and then in the official game -"

"Wow-Oh!" Griezmann looked down at his phone and suddenly exclaimed loudly.

Augustus was a little dissatisfied when his speech was interrupted. "I told you not to disturb me, Antoine, put your phone down, we are the losers."

"What if it's about Batistuta, would you like to be disturbed?" Griezmann asked.

Augustus paused, "Bati?"

"Yes." The Barcelona striker walked up to Augustus with an expression of watching a good show, and then threw the phone into his arms. "This is the first time he has posted an Instagram video because of your game. Listen carefully, it is an Instagram video, not an Instagram story. You should record it, such as printing it out and hanging it on the wall."

As soon as these words were spoken, not only Augustus, but many people in the locker room stopped what they were doing and looked over, such as Lucas and Theo not far away, and Mbappe who was taking off his shoes opposite.

"Thanks for reminding Antoine." Augustus ignored Griezmann's teasing in the second half. He returned the phone. He had to use his own phone to check such an important matter.

"You're welcome." Griezmann said with a smile, "If you want to repay me, remember to invite me to officiate at your wedding."

Augustus didn't say anything else. He held his phone solemnly and opened Instagram. A message from special attention popped up instantly. He glanced at the length of the video, 56 seconds.

And the moment he clicked it.

A piece of music that made all French people utter countless curse words in their hearts sounded, and the picture in the video was the Eiffel Tower.

"'Glory of Prussia'. Damn it, he fucking released 'Glory of Prussia'." Griezmann chuckled. "Oh sweet Jesus, I want to be friends with him, I have to."

(End of this chapter)