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sanity is overrated
Fic: Heavy on Your Love 
15th-Jul-2015 05:53 pm
Title: Heavy on Your Love
Author: firetruckyouxx
Rating: G
Word Count: 533
Pairings, Characters: Mario Götze/Marco Reus
Genre/Warnings: Fluff
Summary: Mario knows a lot of people call themselves Marco Reus’ number-one fan, but in truth, Mario is Marco’s number-one fan.

Mario knows a lot of people call themselves Marco Reus’ number-one fan, but in truth, Mario is Marco’s number-one fan. There’s a distinct difference between the two, one that Mario loves because Marco is all his, while everyone else just has Marco Reus. Not that Mario doesn’t love every little piece of Marco, including his football skills and his public profile, but Mario gets to see all sides of him, not just the ones he has allowed the public eye to see.

For example, Marco Reus would never be caught dead out in public looking less than presentable. Marco Reus spends countless hours perfecting his hair and his clothes, even the simplest of outfits become the grandest of productions to orchestrate. But Marco, the one the lazes around the house on days when there’s no training, sneakily stuffing his face with Mario’s Bavarian pretzels when he thinks he’s not looking, Marco slumps around in beanies that have holes in them from overuse and wear Mario’s oversized hoodies that are fraying in the cuffs of the sleeves and the lining of the hood and sweatpants with holes in the crotch and the waistband.

Mario loves that version of Marco, loves being able to run his fingers through his hair, messy and unkempt, with minimal complaint. He loves the easy way that Marco’s crooked smile spreads across his face, loves how easy it is to pull a quick chuckle from him. He loves that this Marco is all his, loves that this is what he gets to wake up to every morning and falls asleep next to every evening.

He loves the lazy way Marco speaks, how easy his words flow out of his mouth, not thinking before they fall out of his mouth. It’s a lot different from the measured way that Marco Reus talks, an almost faux-nonchalance in the way he holds himself and the way he carefully chooses and considers his words in an almost unnoticeable, short split second. It’s a lot different from the way that Mario notices the slight flush in Marco Reus’ cheeks, as if he was embarrassed by all the attention, unsure of himself, not wanting to make a mistake when speaking in front of the whole world.

And when Mario looks at Marco, watching him instead of the movie that plays on the screen in front of them, watching the easy way he slumps back into the couch, the way he unconsciously plays with Mario’s hair, despite how much he protests, he realizes it almost hurts how stupidly in love he is with the man in front of him, all parts of him, the side for the public and the side that is all his. It hits him like an elbow to the nose, painful and surprising even though he should have seen it coming. He loves Marco Reus, but Marco is the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees at night, and he knows that that is the man he fell in love, first and foremost, the one he wants to see all the time.

Mario is indisputably Marco’s number-one fan because Marco is his, and only his.
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