Manuel Neuer One-Shots

Clumsy

You are having a dream. It’s a colorful one, you are inside one crazy Chinese restaurant, but it has too many floors, and you keep climbing up stairs, opening doors, seeing tons of people you haven’t seen in years, sitting with them, eating and then climbing up stairs again, always looking for someone but never finding.

 Then, at the rooftop, there he is. Your beautiful German prince (as your mother always calls him, making both him and you blush with embarrassment), dressed in a navy blue polo that brings out the color of his eyes and cargo pants. He smiles at you, and you get closer, your dress (weren’t you wearing pants when you were climbing up the stairs? Well, now you’re in a dress, but it’s a dream, so be it!) floating in the wind, and you sit on a posh red chair that appears out of nowhere, and with a flourish, Manu motions to the plate set in front of you and it’s…

 Pancakes? But… Weren’t you in a Chinese restaurant?

 You frown, and look up to him, but when he speaks it’s…

 ”Quack!”

 And before dream-you can ask what the fuck is going on, you feel the bed shake, what makes you nearly jump out of it as you wake up, your heart racing and you’re propped on your elbows, looking around your room until…

 ”Oh God, Manu, not again!” You murmur, settling the cup straight and getting his pajama shirt that is on top of his pillow to clean the spilled orange juice on the mattress.

 ”I’m fine!” His muffled voice is heard from where his face is shoved between the blankets, his hands holding a tray full of pancakes (oh, subconscious, what a funny thing you are) while he supports himself on his elbows and knees to get up “I tripped.” He pouts, huffing, his hair settling funny on his forehead because of the fall “Damn, who leaves a shoe in the middle of the bedroom?!” 

 You look away guiltily while he sighs heavily, and you just know he’s still pouting, and it’s a sight that will break your heart.

 ”Lieben?” He says quietly “I made pancakes.”

 You lean towards the tray, cutting yourself a perfect square of pancake, and you tell him it smells delicious, what makes him smile proudly, but before you can put it in your mouth, he yells for you to wait.

 You frown, and Manu gets up clumsily, and you notice that he has scraped his knees on the fall - see what happens when you are wearing boxers and you trip?, you want to say -, his eyes scanning around the floor for something.

 ”Ah, there it is!” He says like he has just found a treasure “It has rolled down the bed.” Manu gets down, and he disappears from your sight for a second before returning with a little jar on his hands (then you realize that the jar isn’t little, it’s just that his hands are too big) “Ta-da!”

 You nearly moan once the full mix is on your mouth - pancakes and Nutella, yum - and Manu looks at you with eager eyes, expecting your praise (or negative critique) on his cooking abilities.

 ”Oh God, little duck.” You say with your mouth half full, covering it with your hand and nodding “Perfekt.” 

 He makes a victory gesture - the same one he makes once he saves a penalty - and says happily “Neuer five, bad cuisine…”

 ”Eight.” You whisper whilst chewing, your hand still covering your mouth and he pouts once more.

 He slumps by your side in bed - avoiding the orange juice puddle - and drawing imaginary circles in your lower back “I’m getting there.”

 ”Well, it’s not entirely your fault” You say, getting more of the pancake with Nutella (or would it be Nutella with pancake?) “Remember, one time you let the entire bag of flour fall inside the cake mix by accident…” You chew, thinking “Then the other time, you set the dish-towel on fire when you were cleaning the tomato sauce that spilled from the pan, another accident…” You recall, leaning on the head of the bed and Manu hides his face on your lap. “And of course, let’s not forget the duck incident…”

 ”So much work…” He speaks on a pained tone, his voice muffled by your pajama shirt (actually one of his Die Mannschaft training jerseys, but he doesn’t seem mind).

 You remember when, the second Manuel stepped out of the kitchen carrying a tray with the duck and a pan full of rice looking like a balancer from a circus, you knew disaster was bound to happen.

 Both foods ended up on the floor and you had to call for some McDonald’s.

 ”It wasn’t your fault, ducky" You murmur, caressing his hair with one hand and pushing the tray to the other corner of the bed with the other "You’re just a bit…"

 Clumsy.

 ”I always think you deserve an 'At least you tried' kiss.” You tease, leaning in and giving him one on the top of the head.

 He lifts his face from your lap, a mysterious smile on his lips as he speaks “I have a better idea.”

 You frown shifting your body so you’re lying with your head on your pillow, Manu propped on his elbows “And what would it be?”

 He kisses your belly, then between your breasts, then your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, climbing up your body as he speaks between kisses.

 ”At.”

 ”Least.”

 ”You.”

 ”Tried.”

 He’s between your lips when he speaks the last word, with a mischievous grin. 

 ”Sex!”

 And you thank God that the only place where he is clumsy is… In the kitchen.