#usnt

Christian can't sleep.

He's been staring at the horrible paisley pattern on the ceiling for the better part of an hour now, trying to will himself to sleep. But there's no warmth on his left side; when he stretches his hand out all he meets is cold, white sheets.

Christian misses the floral comforter he always complained about. You love it though, and he might secretly love it too, just because you do. He'd give anything for your laundry softener to choke his nose as he tries to sleep and for your weight to be pressed to his side.

Rolling over with a sigh, Christian gives up. He can't sleep without hearing your voice; he hasn't had time to speak with you in days. 

Hw grapples for his phone on the nightstand, cursing quietly when it blinds him. He doesn't expect you to answer his FaceTime but he tries anyway, desperate to get some sort of sleep before tomorrow's match.

"Hello?"

Christian grins, immediately more awake that he had been moments ago. "Hey-" Christian registers the apparent frog in your throat a second later. "Fuck, baby, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

You scrub a hand over your face, reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp. "Yeah. 'S okay-"

"Wait, before you tell me anything, how was your day?" Christian’s eyes search the half of your face he can see on the screen. The other half is thoroughly smashed into your pillow as you try to wake up a little. 

You're gorgeous like this, with your hair in the messiest bun he's ever seen and your lips pursed as your brain tries to catch up with what he's saying. In all honesty, just hearing you say hello was enough for the ache in his chest to start to lessen. 

"Was fine." You cover your yawn with a hand and Christian wishes he was there in person so he could tease you by sticking a finger in your gaping mouth. You claimed you hated it, but it made you laugh so he kept doing it. "Worked."

A string of away games and appearances in the States for the national team have kept him away from your flat in London for five of the longest days of his life. He has a countdown going on his homescreen, counting down the seconds until he finally gets on a plane bound for Heathrow. 

"Yeah? Get that project out that's been looming over your head?"

You nod, rubbing the side of your fist across your eyes. "Mmm. Tomorrow should be an easy day."

"That's good." He pauses, trying to assess how long he could keep you. Judging by your unintentional lack of reply, he ventures a guess that he has a few minutes, tops.

"I'm sorry for waking you up, but I couldn't sleep without hearing your voice." He feels his cheeks heat when you laugh, your sleepy eyes full of love.

"It's alright. I'll elaborate on my day if you want me to."

Christian glances at the clock that glares back at him. It was only midnight in London; even if he kept you up for an hour you'd still get enough sleep.

"Yeah, I'd love to hear about your day." Christian pulls his hotel pillow to his chest. It's the closest he'll get to replicating your nightly ritual of tangling himself in you, running his fingers through your hair while you recount all the little details of your corporate life.

"Well it got off to a great start; Jane popped in my office five minutes after I got there and finally spilled the beans about dating Marcus."

"Oh, that's her supervisor right?"

You nod. "Yup. I told you they were a thing. They eye-fucked through our entire holiday party last week."

"You were right," Christian admits, laughing quietly when you ask him to repeat himself. "You heard me." You hum, tapping your chin as you think.

"Oh, on my way home I saw a poster of you in a shop window. I stopped in and bought one of those Puma Pulisic hoodies in your size so that I can steal it as soon as it smells like you."

Christian chuckles, his nerves finally starting to calm. "You know I would've sent you one, you didn't have to buy it."

You shrug. "I like supporting you." His stomach flips. He doesn't know how he got so lucky. You've been his number one cheerleader since day one and he would never stop appreciating your unending support. 

"How about you, Cap? How was your day?" You flip up the kickstand on your phone and set it on your nightstand in favor of cuddling your balled up blanket. "Save any civilians from burning buildings or stop any alien invasions?"

"Just got swarmed by fans when we landed at the airport," Christian explains. "It was weird, they were all shouting my name instead of Mason's for once."

"Well they love you in-" you pause to yawn again, "-Germany, seeing as you used to play there."

"Mmm, I guess so."

"Any cute girls?"

Christian blinks and shoots you an amused smile. "Really?"

"What?" You say innocently. "Just curious."

"You're jealous." Christian grins when you shake your head adamantly. "Yeah, you are. You know I only ever think about you."

"Yeah, I know, I just- it's hard you know? I just wish I could go to matches with you." Your lower lip juts out in a perfectly adorable pout. "Those fans get to see you and I'm stuck here because my request for time off got denied."

"I'll be back in two days." Christian wishes he could kiss your forehead and reassure you. "I'm not too far away. I'll be home before you know it."

"The apartment isn't the same without your dirty socks lying around the living room."

"Neither are my mornings. I miss your excessively fancy coffee. I've been stuck with that instant stuff." You make a face and Christian laughs, careful to be quiet and not wake his teammates in the next room over. "Yeah, it sucks. Can you bring a cup of your stuff when you pick me up?"

"Your plane lands at seven in the evening," you point out, to which Christian blows a raspberry in response.

"You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me we're gonna be going to sleep at a decent time when I get back?" 

"Christian," you hiss, hiding your blush behind your hand.

"That's my name." 

"Shut up, you sarcastic, dirty-minded man."

"Who, me? Dirty minded? Nooooo," he draws out the vowel, a hand dramatically placed to his chest. "Never. All I meant was that we've got loads of shows to catch up on- did you see they released season two of the Witcher?"

You bite your lip, "er, about that…"

"You didn't." You wince and Christian gasps. "You didn't! You started without me?"

"I only watched the first episode!"

"Betrayal of the highest order," he whisper-yells, "oh, how will I go on?"

"I'll pretend I haven't seen it, I promise." You draw your fingers over your heart in the shape of an X, then hold up your hand, palm out. "No spoilers. I'll gasp at all the right parts and hide my face in your arm when Geralt fights the bad guys."

Christian does his best impersonation of a stunned actor on one of those horrible daytime soap operas you love, complete with a hand placed delicately to his forehead. "It's not the same. Your surprise won't be genuine when Yen wakes up in Dimeritium chains."

Your mouth drops open. "You watched it too!"

Christian shrugs, hoping his trademark cheeky grin will soften the admission. "Kai spoiled it for me. So of course I had to sit down and watch it to make sure he wasn't lying about Yen being alive."

You hum, narrowing your eyes at him. "I guess we'll start on episode two."

"Wherever you wanna start, sweetheart." Christian turns on his side, propping his head on his folded arm. His eyes grow heavy and your droop, both tuckered out and comforted by the sound of each other's voices.

"Go to sleep," Christian murmurs, stifling a yawn of his own as you do the same. "Just text me when you wake up, okay?"