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“36, but you look younger than ever! We all love you a lot and wish you the best, brother and captain. Happy birthday, @IkerCasillas!”

Geri stares at the tweet that Sergio posted to congratulate Iker on his birthday. He’s been staring at it for a while now. Maybe he’s been staring at it for a bit too long. Not that it matters. He’s alone and just a bit beyond tipsy, so it’s not like there’s anybody with him to witness his embarrassing pining.

Sergio attached a couple of pictures to it. One of them is the famous La Décima photo of them together. Sergio’s hair and beard are freshly trimmed, probably especially for the occasion. He’s shirtless, chest glistening with all the sweat of effort they put into it. Iker is hugging him - way too tight - and kissing him - way too close to Sergio’s mouth for Geri’s liking. They look undeniably, blissfully happy.

Geri desperately wishes it was him. He wishes it was him hugging him, holding him close; wishes it was him kissing him for the whole world to see and remember. So he does what he does best, he tweets about it.

His mind-to-action filter isn’t all that good when he’s sober, so when he’s drunk it disappears completely.

Geri hits the retweet button on the post and types quickly.

“ God, i really wish that was me kissing ur pretty fuckign face,,”

He looks at it, smiles in satisfaction, pleased with himself, and hits post. After that he drops his head on the counter and closes his eyes. Sleep never failed him yet. As Cesc used to say, tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow’s me .

Tomorrow’s he is not very happy about the trouble yesterday’s he left him.

Geri wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing against his cheek. He knows this ringtone - it’s his PR manager. Well, technically it’s Barça’s PR manager, originally hired to watch after Leo’s - and, on the way, the rest of the squad’s - public image, but she turned into Geri’s PR manager very quickly. Geri was grateful that there was someone experienced to help him deal with all the buzz the press created around his comments, really, he was, but sometimes she was just a bit too nosy and paranoid.

Geri scrambles to reach the phone, moving his hand around the table blindly, searching for the vibrating gadget without actually having to open his eyes. Once his hand meets the plastic case he grabs it and slams it against his ear.

“If it’s about what I said about Valencia’s new coach - I didn’t, it’s a lie, I didn’t even do that interview in the end.” He slurs into the phone, hoping that she’ll be able to pick up the incoherent bits from context.

“Gerard.” Her voice is cold, serious, scolding, as if it’s Madrid they’re talking about, not Valencia. “Gerard, please explain yourself.”

Geri sighs, struggling to sit up. “I told you, it’s a fucking lie, I didn’t say that.” He raises a hand to his face, trying to rub the sleep out of himself. God, he really needs some water right now. “They made it up.” He stands up, making his way from the living room over to the kitchen.

He can hear her take a deep breath before she speaks up again. “I’m not talking about Valencia.”

Geri frowns and freezes in his tracks. “You aren’t?” No, he really needs some water and a couple of aspirin pills. “Then what is it? Did Ronaldo say I suck? Because I really don’t care.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line and he can visibly picture her running a hand down her face in frustration. “Just.. Check your Twitter.” She tells him, giving up on any kind of explanation. “Please.”

Geri throws a few aspirin capsules into a glass of water and downs it in one gulp, grimacing at the sour taste of the pills. He leans on the counter then, putting her on speaker and switching to the twitter app on his phone. His notifications are practically blowing up.

It’s all somehow related to that bloody tweet Sergio posted for Iker’s birthday. But instead of people congratulating him and adding their own wishes, the thread is filled with people talking about Geri and Sergio. There are some of the weirdest photoshop creations Geri has ever seen, all including his and Sergio’s faces. One particular picture draws his attention.

It’s the cover of a Romeo & Juliet, but instead of the two famous characters someone photoshopped him and Sergio in their club jerseys onto the cover. The picture is captioned “ Seromeo y Geruliet” .

It doesn’t end there, though. The thread is filled with angry madridistas calling him names, stating that this “crosses all the existing lines”, and culés responding to them with equally unfriendly names in Sergio’s address, telling them that they should “learn how to take a joke”.

Geri frowns, an unsettling feelings knotting in his stomach.

“What the fuck did I write yesterday?” He asks, panic creeping into his voice. He goes to his own profile, but there’s nothing that could cause such an uproar.

His manager sighs tiredly. “I couldn’t reach you earlier, so Leo and Andrés told me to contact Cesc Fàbregas to get your password, and we already deleted it. But there’s enough screenshots of it everywhere. Wait a moment, I’ll send you one.”

Geri waits impatiently for the message to arrive, each second feeling like a torture. When he finally receives it, he can feel his entire face going pale.

“I..” He wets his lips, throat feeling dry all of a sudden. This isn’t happening to him. He wants to say I didn’t write it, or I don’t remember writing it , or even I was drunk , but the only thing that comes out is a weak sorry.

She sighs again. “It’s alright.” She doesn’t sound like it’s alright, but at least she doesn’t sound angry anymore either. “I’ll sort it out. Just.. Try not to say anything too,” she pauses, searching for the right word “anything too you , if you get asked about it on the way to training. Alright?”

Geri nods numbly. It’s not like he has much to offer anyway. What will he say? I accidentally confessed my love for Sergio Ramos on Twitter when I was drunk?

“Alright.”

He does get asked about it on the way to training.

Most of the questions are nothing creative; just rephrased versions of the ones he’s already heard a thousand times before. There’s “what was the meaning of what you posted yesterday evening?”, “was that a reply to what Ramos said about Barcelona after the CL match?”, even “what’s your opinion on Iker Casillas?” - he has no idea what pushed them to ask the last one, after all, even if, supposedly, he hates Sergio with his whole heart, did he ever give them a single reason to believe that he dislikes Iker?

He pulls his training bag closer to him and keeps going, ignoring all the mics shoved in his face. But then one particular question draws his attention.

“Was that a love confession?”

Geri stops and turns around, staring at the journalist. He supposes it was meant to be a joke. No, he’s sure that it was a joke. But something pushes him to reply nonetheless.

He smirks confidently and says. “Oh, yeah, we’re madly in love.” The best - and maybe only - way he knows how to deal with his problems is sarcasm. And, well, if his sarcasm is a bit too realistic, then nobody else has to know about it. “I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding.” And with that he turns his back to them and heads toward the gate.

He doesn’t really think about it too much. Really, he tries to forget it. Rafa and Jordi chanting “Ramos and Geri sitting on a tree. k - i - s - s - i - n - g” is not very helpful, but hey, when has he ever let others’ opinions affect his own actions?

When Luis finally breaks the ice and asks the question everybody is dying to hear the answer to, Geri shrugs it off and says that he was drunk when he posted it, that he just wanted to tease Sergio a little bit. Well, at least some of it is true.

It will die, he tells himself, people will calm down. After all, how much time can you really spend over a deleted tweet?

He doesn’t realise how much trouble he’s really in until he calls Iker (he was meaning to congratulate him yesterday, but he was too busy with Sergio congratulating Iker, so it didn’t work out. Iker must’ve probably been busy anyway, so it’s actually a good thing).

“Gerard?” Iker’s voice sounds a bit strange - slightly strict and colder than usual - but Geri just writes it off as him being tired after yesterday.

“Hello there, old man,” He greets him cheerfully, playing with the car keys in his hand. “How are you? I wanted to call yesterday, but I figured you would be busy.”

Iker hums in reply. “I take it you’ve been pretty busy yesterday too?”

Geri stops in his tracks. Now, what is this about? Of course the news have gotten to Iker too. He groans mentally, cursing himself for being so careless. He’s never using twitter when he drinks again. “Is this about the Ramos twitter thing? Because if it is then I know, I’m sorry, it was a joke.”

“A joke, huh?” Iker echoes drily. He doesn’t sound amused. “I thought it was an accident.”

“It was!” Geri lets out a laugh because the entire situation is absurd , Iker of all people should get it. “I was drunk, man, I was just messing around.” He doesn’t understand what there is to explain. It was an accident, period. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just wanted,” He bites his lip, searching for something that is close enough to the truth to be believable, but not too close to give it away. “To get to him?”

It takes a while until Iker speaks up again. “Well, congratulations.” And then he hangs up on him.

Geri pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it in disbelief. When has Iker - calm, polite, respectful Iker - ever hung up on anybody?

Geri shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “Something ain’t right.”

He gets to find out what exactly isn’t right when, two weeks later, international break arrives.

When he gets to training Sergio is already there, in a heated discussion about something with Carvajal and Jordi. He looks up for a moment and when his eyes spot Geri he freezes mid-sentence, staring at him. Geri raises a hand to wave hello, but before he can do it Sergio is already looking away from him, responding to something Jordi said.

Oh, come the fuck on, Geri thinks. He starts walking in their direction slowly, but before he can reach the group, a voice from behind his back stops him.

“Yo, Gerard, what’s up?”

Geri turns around. Isco is standing right behind him, balancing a ball on his foot. Morata is on the grass next to him, stretching. They’re both looking at him funny and Geri doesn’t know what to make out of it.

“Hi?” He tries, raising an eyebrow.

Isco snorts. “Hi yourself.” He kicks the ball up and throws it at Geri when it lands back in his hands. “You’re late.”

Geri catches the ball and turns it around in his hands. “Yeah, man, sorry.” He gives them a sheepish smile. “Don’t tell Andrés.”

“He already knows.” Isco shoots back mercilessly. “By the way, he and Marc wanted you for something. Told me to tell you if I see you.”

“Oh.” Geri glances in Sergio’s direction, making sure to make it look absolutely accidental. Well, later then. “Aye, I’ll do it. Thanks.”

He lingers back in the dressing room after shower, scrolling through his phone while he waits for Sergio. It takes him ridiculously long, to the point that Geri starts wondering if he drowned in there, but maybe it’s just his brains playing tricks with him and making the time seem longer than usual.

When Sergio comes out of the shower, hair damp and a towel hanging around his neck, humming a rhythmical melody under his breath, Geri is very tempted to yell finally .

“Sergio,”

Sergio flinches and stops in his tracks, turning around. His expression closes off as soon as he sees it’s him “Oh, it’s you,” He says, stressing the last word in a strange manner. “I thought everyone left already.” He says as walks over to his locker, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and sweats.

“Yeah, but I stayed back to scare you.” He jokes. Sergio doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. Okay , not in the mood then, Geri figures. “I, um.” He clears his throat, deciding to go straight to the point. “About the whole twitter drama.. We’re okay, right?” He looks at Sergio, hoping to find some kind of sign on his face that would serve as a peace offering. There’s nothing.

“Yeah, sure.” Sergio shoots back neutrally. “It’s not like we aren’t used to it by now.” he pushes his things into his bag carelessly, with way too much force than what’s needed, and slings the bag over his shoulder. Geri doesn’t miss the way he uses ‘we’, as if it’s a Gerard and the team issue, not a Gerard and Sergio issue. Nevertheless, he doesn’t comment on it, Sergio is clearly not up for talking.

“Good game, see you tomorrow.” Sergio throws at him dryly before marching outside of the locker room, not giving him a chance to say something back. Geri is left sitting on the bench in an empty dressing room, staring at the closed door dumbly.

Geri presses two fingers to each of his temples and shuts his eyes, trying to think. Or maybe he shouldn’t, nothing good seems to ever come out of it.

He’s already meaning to leave when there’s a buzzing sound next to him. When Geri glances over to look for the source of this noise, his eyes land on a phone. It’s definitely not his, but Geri’s hands are quicker than his rationality as he picks it up, looking at the lighted screen. The message is short and simple. Geri knows the language, it’s Spanish. And yet, it’s completely incoherent.

‘Penaldo’ wrote at 15:27: “did you water the cactus? ;) ;) ;)”

Geri gapes at it. Quite frankly, something about it makes him feel unnerved. Somehow, the ridiculous amount of smiley faces tells him that Ronaldo didn’t just text Sergio to ask him if he watered a cactus.

Geri shoves the phone into his other pocket and decides to give it back to Sergio when he gets to the hotel.

The moment he steps inside, a pack of cards is thrown at his face. Geri stands there, blinking, watching the cards slowly rain down on the floor around him, revealing a perplexed Isco standing behind them. He’s biting his lip sheepishly, a small, almost timid smile at the corner of his lips.

“I thought you were Álvaro..?” he offers, the statement sounding both like a question and an apology.

Geri shakes his head,making a card that got stuck in his hair fall down to the floor. “And you decided to throw a card deck at him because..?”

Isco’s face turns defensive “It was supposed to be revenge,” he exclaims in an attempt to justify his actions “he put ketchup on my chair this morning!”

Geri snorts. He remembers it clearly. “That was funny.”

Isco glares at him. “It was not. ”

“Anyway, congrats,” Geri pulls at the collar of his shirt, trying to get the cards stuck inside to slip out. Who could have thought one card deck could cause so much damage. “You succeeded. Just tell Álvaro he needs to clean all of this up,” he gestures at the mess at their feet “It will be the best revenge in the history of revenges.”

Isco grumbles something under his breath, but Geri ignores it, pushing by him into the lobby room. He immediately spots Jordi and Cesc sitting around a table with Koke, chewing crisps and watching something on Cesc’s tablet. Geri grabs a chair from one of the other tables, drags it over to them and joins the circle.

Jordi’s eyes glimmer mischievously when he glances up and sees him.

“Geri!” he yells in excitement, pointing a finger in his direction “You’re an ace!”

Geri cocks an eyebrow. Either everyone else is acting weird or he’s just a bit out of it today. “Thanks?” he tries.

“No,” Jordi leans all over the table, reaching for Geri’s neck. He fumbles with his collar a bit and then pulls away, holding up an ace of hearts card. “Literally!”

There’s a momentary silence and then Koke and Cesc burst out laughing.

“Look,” Cesc exclaims, addressing everybody and nobody in particular “Jordi can do magic!”

“Oi,” Geri clicks his tongue, acting irritated, even though he isn’t really “Give it back!” he bends over the table, meaning to snatch the card out of Jordi’s hands. The other tries pulling away, but Geri’s height gives him the advantage and eventually the card ends up in his hands.

“Ha-hah!” he announces triumphantly. He wants to say something else, but then his phone buzzes, and he turns to it, wondering who could it be.

He almost groans when he realises that it’s Ronaldo again, with an even more illegible text message. Some of his annoyance must show on his face, because Koke leans over, eyes widening when he sees the screen.

“Are you texting Ronaldo?”

There’s a horrified gasp from Cesc and a choking noise from Jordi, but before the lie can spread even further Geri puts an end to it. “It’s not my phone,” he states, waving the phone in front of their faces to show them the ugly striped case “It’s Sergio’s, he forgot it in the locker room,” he adds then, to avoid further confusion “I was going to give it back to him.”

Jordi makes a face at him “How cute,” he drawls, pursing his lips “taking care of him, Geri?”

Geri growls, eyes narrowed “If all of you don’t shut up about it,” he declares, pointing an accusing finger at Jordi “I’m never tweeting anything ever again.”

Cesc throws his head back, looking up at the ceiling “ Please ,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Koke raises an eyebrow, looking at him in amusement “That’s the lamest threat I’ve ever heard, Gerard.”

They argue for a while longer, until Jordi manages to steal Sergio’s phone from him and starts trying to guess Sergio’s password. Before can get the phone blocked, Geri takes it back and says that he’ll go to his room to take a nap.

“Tell Isco he’s an ass if you see him,” he adds, getting up from the table. He realises he’s still holding the ace of hearts card in his hand, so he tucks it into Sergio’s phone case and shoves the phone into his back pocket. He brings two fingers to his temple, sending the other three a mock-salute “Goodbye, losers,”

The three wave him away and go back to doing whatever they were doing on Jordi’s tablet before Geri interrupted them.

Before returning to his room, he decides to pay Sergio a visit. He was planning to do it after his nap - Geri really has no energy to deal with it if Sergio’s not in the mood to talk to him again - but who knows what kind of important calls Sergio might be expecting, considering he’s a double captain, so Geri forces his legs to drag him over to the third floor, where he knows Sergio’s room should be. He’s surprisingly tired after all the running around Lopetegui made them do - he supposes Sergio is the same, considering he always gives his 100 percent during training - so he kind of expects him to just take his phone back and tell Geri to go to sleep.

What he doesn’t expect is to find Dani Carvajal and Lucas Vázquez between him and the door, before he even has the chance to knock on it. The two are taking up the width of the entire doorway, not letting him get close to it. Carvajal has his arms crossed, eyes boring into Geri suspiciously, and Lucas’ hands are on his waist, a judgemental look on his face. Geri doesn’t like it.

Geri blinks at them. Acting dumb is probably not the best way to win them over, but he’s not lying when he says that he really has no idea what’s going on. “Can I help you somehow?”

“What do you want?” Dani asks him, not even trying to sound friendly. “Have you not done enough?”

“I.. I was just sort of, uh,” Geri fumbles with the words, his mind going blank all of a sudden. Every rational thought seems to be gone from his mind. “Sergio needs to water his cactus,” he blurts out, surprising himself even more than the other two.

Dani stares at him, the hostile expression suddenly replaced by a confused one. “I-” he blinks
“Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Geri raises a hand, waving it around in the air abstractly “Ronaldo said that he does. I don’t know. It’s just that-” he reaches for his pocket finally and fishes out Sergio’s phone “Sergio forgot his phone. I came to return it.” he says, finally managing a coherent sentence.

The two exchange meaningful glances. Lucas nods.

“Give it to me, then,” Dani says, reaching his hand out toward him. Geri’s grip on Sergio’s phone tightens.

“ No .” he retorts decisively.

Dani’s eyes narrow and he takes a step closer. “I said,” he repeats, stressing each word separately, purposefully leaving large pauses between each of them, as if speaking to a half-deaf person. “Give me the phone.”

Geri takes a step toward him as well, feeling indignant all of a sudden. “And I said no.” he responds, using the same intonation, voice growing louder with each word “Now let me in.”

Lucas is biting his lip now, eyes switching between him and Dani worriedly. “Um.. Guuuys,” he drawls, tugging on Dani’s sleeve in an attempt to get him to calm down.

Geri isn’t sure how it would’ve ended, if at that exact moment the door to the room didn’t open to reveal Nolito and Sergio standing behind it.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence during which all of them keep staring at each other, before Nolito clears his throat and turns to Sergio. “Um. I should probably go.”

Sergio stares at them some more, then blinks abruptly and turns to look at Nolito. “Yeah, you probably should. Get some rest,” he pulls the other closer, clapping him on the back, and presses a friendly kiss to his cheek, unaware of Geri’s eyes watching the movements closely all the while. They say their goodbyes, Nolito slips carefully past him and Dani and disappears behind the door of his own room. The moment he’s gone Sergio’s gaze snaps over to the three of them, not looking pleased in the slightest.

“What exactly is going on in here?” he asks, the question bordering on a growl. Lucas lets go of Dani’s sleeve and takes a step back subconsciously. “It’s past noon, I’m tired,” Sergio points at his wrist pointedly, even though there’s no watch on it “Aren’t you all supposed to be sleeping your siesta right now?”

“Uh,” Dani glances at Geri and then back at Sergio. “I don’t think they sleep siestas in Catalonia.”

“Oh?” Sergio cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed “Wasn’t aware you and Lucas are Catalan as well now.” he says humorlessly “Oh no, they’re taking over. Guess we’ll have to change our name to La selecció d'Espanya soon.” he jokes dryly, expression unchanging. Dani bites his lip.

Geri ignores Sergio’s words, choosing to shoot Dani a dirty look instead. “We do, actually, have the siesta in Catalonia.” he corrects him pointedly “We just call it la migdiada .”

Lucas, who’s been doing his best to not draw attention to himself, lets out a snort of laughter. “What kind of retarded name is that?”

Geri opens his mouth to take a dig at the fact that the Galician word for siesta is, mind you, sesta , but before any of them can utter one more word, Sergio throws his hands up, pressing them to his temples. He looks tired, for some reason. It makes Geri want to throw his arm around him and envelop him in a huge bear hug. “Just- Stop. You’re giving me a headache.” he announces “What are you even doing here? You can show off your linguistic abilities somewhere else.”

Geri exchanges a confused glance with Dani. Neither of them actually remembers what their argument was about to begin with. Geri starts wondering if maybe his memory is getting worn out faster than it should with all the sports he’s doing.

“The..” Lucas gestures at Geri’s hand “The phone, Gerard.”

“Oh, right.” Geri blinks down at his hand, suddenly aware of the device still clutched in his hand. “You forgot your phone, Sergio.”

Geri’s isn’t making up the relief that flashes behind his eyes at the sight of the phone. “Oh, good. I thought I lost it.” He pulls the door open wider and steps aside, making space for Geri to go through, “Come in.”

Geri means to enter the room, but before he has a chance, Dani puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “Sergio,” he says carefully, studying the other’s expression closely “He’s…” Dani widens his eyes and motions at Geri with his head. The two seems to have some kind of wordless conversation going on for a moment.

Sergio lets out a sigh. “I appreciate the concern, Dani, really, but it’s fine . I can handle it.” Geri doesn’t appreciate the way they’re talking about him. Like he isn’t even there - or worse, like he’s some kind of troublesome kid and they’re trying to decide who will watch over him during the weekend. He wants to voice his displeasure, but something about Sergio’s expression makes him bite his tongue and hold it back. “Seriously, Dani.” Sergio raises his hands, waving them at the two in a go-away gesture “Shoo! Go sleep a midgiaga or something.”
“ Migdiada .” Geri corrects him.

“Whatever.”

Dani still looks suspicious, but then Sergio gives him a reassuring nod and he gives in. They clap each other on the back and then Lucas throws an arm around Dani’s shoulder and they both head to their room. Sergio waits for Geri to come in and then closes the door. A second before he does, Geri turns around and sticks his tongue out at Dani childishly. Dani gives him the finger.

“Dani’s an ass,” Geri mutters as soon as he’s inside. “I have no idea what’s gotten into him.” He flops down on an armchair in the middle of the room, looking around. It’s just a hotel room, and yet it has such a Sergio feeling to it, with all of his belongings thrown around it carelessly.

“Well, you’re a double ass,” Sergio shoots back. “Give me my phone, come on,” he says, stretching his hand out. “What if El Mister calls? I need it.”

Geri looks at the outstretched hand in front of him. He reaches his own hand out, taking Sergio’s in it and shaking it formally. “Hello, Sergio.”

“I-” Sergio splutters speechlessly, then pulls his hand away and groans. “Did you come in here to bribe me with it or something?”

Geri laughs. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head. He places the phone on the table next to him and Sergio picks it up, cradling it close to his chest, like a treasured object. It probably is. “Are you alone in here?” Geri asks, suddenly noticing the untouched bed next to Sergio’s. He knows about the small benefits of captain privilege, Iker and Xavi used to abuse it a lot when they wanted to have some proper rest from the rest of them, but Sergio’s always been one who enjoys company. He wonders if Sergio will laugh at him if he offers to stay with him.

“Ah, no,” Sergio nudges the other bed with his knee. “I promised Pepe to room up with him, but he arrives only tomorrow, ‘cuase he has some business to finish in Italy. So it’s just me for now.” he leans in for a closer inspection, poking the pillows. “I wonder if he’ll stop talking to me if I put a cactus under his pillow.”

Geri lets out a bark of laughter. Leave it to Sergio Ramos to manage to express his affection in a way that would make anybody stop talking to him. “Oh, speaking of cactuses,” he adds, suddenly remembering “Ronaldo told you to water your cactus. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Sergio’s jerks up to look at him, and if Geri didn’t know better, he would think that the other looks flustered for a second. “I- What else did that idiot say?” Sergio asks, flopping down on the bed as he unlocks his phone and starts going through the unread messages frantically.

Geri waves his hand dismissively “I don’t know, man, I can’t goddamn read your madridista language.” he says indifferently. He has no idea what that meant, and frankly, he has no desire to find out. The question came more out of sheer curiosity than actual interest.

Sergio seems to relax at that, putting the phone down. “Cris is a fucking weirdo, don’t mind him.” he gets up and walks over to his side of the room, going through some of the things in his bag. Geri wants to joke and ask if he’s searching for a cactus, but decides against it.

He turns to look at the small nightstand he’s been unconsciously drumming his fingers against the past few minutes. There’s a magazine with the results of some horse races that’s definitely Sergio’s; there are also a couple of books that belong to the hotel, including two magazinez about fashion and gardening, a Spanish-French and a Spanish-Catalan dictionary. Geri wonders for a moment if Sergio’s learning French, but immediately dismisses the absurd thought.

He reaches for the fashion magazine, only to immediately drop it back down when Cristiano Ronaldo’s face stares back at him from the cover. There’s nowhere to hide from the guy, his face is everywhere, Geri thinks bitterly. He goes for a second try, this time picking up the horses one, but Sergio’s voice stops him.

“Piqué.”

Geri rushes to place the magazine back exactly where it was, turning around to face Sergio with an innocent look on his face. “Yes?”

Sergio is looking down at his phone. He looks annoyed all of a sudden. “What is this?” he asks, looking up at him. Geri internally winces at the sharp edge of his voice.

It’s the bloody ace of hearts, he realises, noticing the card Sergio’s holding in his hand.

“Uh,” Geri wonders how to word it in the most believable way possible. “Isco threw a card deck at me.” he kind of expects Sergio to laugh - or maybe he doesn’t - but he certainly doesn’t expect Sergio to roll his eyes with the words “really, Geri?” and throw the card down on the nightstand next to Geri’s armchair.

“Why are you doing this?” he demands, voice dry but unmistakably angry. “What, is this a game to you? Do you enjoy testing my patience, seeing me angry - upset?”

Geri blinks at him. He has no idea where all of this came from, but one thing is clear for sure - he’s managed to piss Sergio off for real this time, without even realising it. It’s obvious because this is not Sergio’s usual on-pitch or mid-argument angry, he’s completely furious, which can only mean one thing - he’s feeling very, very hurt. Geri wants to apologise, but he isn’t sure for what.

“Sergio, I don’t understand-”

“Of course you don’t,” Sergio cuts him off, voice on the verge of yelling now “You never fucking understand anything, because you don’t ever fucking think .”

“Sese-” he tries, fruitlessly.

“Don’t sese me,” Sergio snaps “Like we’re friends or something! Because I’ve had it, I’ve had it Gerard, I’ve had it with you. My patience is all the way up here already,” he brings up a hand, gesturing at his throat “I’m this close to losing it.” he keeps taking steps towards him, resting a hand against the nightstand as he leans down, towering above him in an attempt to seem intimidating. But there’s no mistaking the raw emotions glittering behind his eyes, and it makes Geri’s heart clench painfully.

“And you know what’s the worst part?” he goes on, voice becoming less and less steady with each sentence “You do it all publically. You enjoy all of this attention, don’t you? And you know damn well that I can’t even respond properly, because everyone is going to make such a big deal out of it. Like, you and Dani can have a catfight right outside of my room, but if it’s you and me we’re suddenly tearing Spain apart.”

Sergio swirls around and stomps toward the door, throwing it open. “Get out of here.”

Geri jumps up to his feet. He has a crippling feeling of something wrong, wrong, wrong inside. Something went wrong along the way and he can’t even try to fix it because he doesn’t know where he slipped. “Sergio-”

“I said get. Out.” Sergio growls, pointing at the hallway outside. “ Now .”

Geri approaches the doorway cautiously, but doesn’t exit the room. It’s a bad idea to talk with Sergio when he’s like this, a really bad one, but if he doesn’t do it now the other is just going to shut off and then they’ll never figure this out.

“Whatever it is, I can promise you that it wasn’t on purpose.” he isn’t sure who sounds more emotional anymore, Sergio or himself.

“It’s hard to believe you when every second thing that comes out of your mouth is a joke.” Sergio shoots back, spitting the words out bitterly “You wanted to get to me? Congrats.” And then he shuts the door close right in front of Geri’s face.

Geri leans against the wall and lets out a shaky breath. He brings up a hand and drags it down his face. How does he always manage to fuck things up without even trying?

Sergio’s last words are suspiciously similar to what Iker told him. When he looks back, it all seems kind of connected.

And then the realisation finally hits him. Sergio thinks he’s mocking him. Sergio is hurt because he’s sure that Geri is making fun of him. The tweet, and then the card as well. He can kind of see where he’s coming from, too.

It happened after they lost to Italy during the last Euros. Geri was lying on the bed of his hotel room, drowning in his own sorrow, when Sergio appeared in the doorway, looking as miserable as him, and offered to have a drink together. Geri should’ve turned the offer down, he knows, especially considering the state he was in at that time, but he felt too weak for that. So he let Sergio pull him up and lead him to a bar near the hotel.

They sulked together, and maybe even cried a bit, and recalled the times Spain was invincible, the times Iker and Xavi were still with them, when everything they touched turned into gold. And then Sergio started talking about Madrid, and Sevilla, and about his family, and after that they laughed together for a while.

At a certain point, Geri caught him staring, with that smile plastered on his lips. The one that made the skin around his eyes crinkle and his entire face light up. It was a strange sight - Geri knew this smile, but it was never him on the other end of it. Sergio smiled like that when he looked at Iker, or at Fernando, or at Marcelo, or even at Cristiano fucking Ronaldo after he scored for them, but never at him. Until today. It made something strangely warm bubble up in his stomach.

“Watcha starin’ at?” He asked, words slurred together.

Sergio hummed blissfully. He looked happy. “You should come to Madrid,” He murmured suddenly, words light but serious.

Geri threw his head back and laughed. “Keep dreaming, Ramos.” But before he could come up with a clever, anti-madridista comeback, his face was suddenly pressed between Sergio’s hands and the other was up against him, slamming his lips against his.

It’s probably a cliché thing to say, but Geri felt like there were fireworks exploding around them. Sergio was fierce and bold and gentle and beautiful and everything at the same time. He was everything and everywhere and too much and not enough all together and Geri never wanted the moment to end.

But it was gone all too fast and before he could even start to at least respond to the kiss, Sergio was already pulling back, jerking his hands away as if he was burned. His face was flushed, eyes looking anywhere except for Geri.

“Sorry..” He stammered. “It- It was a mistake.” He took a step back, almost tripping over when his legs collided with one of the chairs. “Sorry,” He repeated, gripping one of the tables for support and taking his phone from the counter. “Sorry.” The word stumbled out one last time before he turned around and bolted outside of the room.

Geri was left sitting in the bar alone, all the sorrow and misery he felt back in the hotel room rushing back and dropping on him like a bucket of ice.

He didn’t bother to ask him about it. Didn’t bother to explain his side, didn’t bother to talk it out. He decided that it really was just a mistake, pushed it back, into the part of his brain where he kept things he didn’t want to remember, and acted like nothing happened. And now he’s paying for it.

When Geri wakes up it’s starting to get darker outside. He sits up with a start - he didn’t actually mean to fall asleep for so long. There’s shuffling behind him, but when he turns around it’s just Cesc.

He smiles sheepishly at him, closing the bathroom door behind himself. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Geri sinks back against the pillow, rubbing at his eyes. “I’ll probably go for a run now, otherwise I won’t be able to fall asleep tonight.” he mumbles, voicing his thoughts aloud.

Cesc nudges his shoulder, making him move a bit so he can sit down next to him, despite having an entire bed all for himself. Geri wants to point it out, but he actually won’t mind some company right now.

“Are you alright?” he asks, rubbing the longer ones among his strands with a small towel in an attempt to dry them.

Geri blinks. “Why?”

Cesc shrugs. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like you. Falling asleep after practice is usually my part.” he says with a small smile.

Geri huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, huh.” he raises a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. He wonders if Cesc is the right person to ask. It makes sense, in a way; he’s still one of the closest people to Geri on the team, but due to the fact that he hasn’t been in the whole La Liga business for a while now, he isn’t as invested in the personal drama of most of the players as others; so the risk of him blurting something out to another person is much lower.

“How do I always manage to fuck up things without even trying?”

Cesc combs a hand through his hair gently. It’s a familiar, reassuring gesture. He studies Geri for a while with a fond smile on his face. “Because you’re an idiot.” he replies warmly.

Geri snorts and throws his head back. So much for supportive teammates. “Why, thank you, really made me feel better about it here.”

Cesc grins at him. He nudges Geri again, making him move over to the corner of the bed, and lies down next to him. “What happened, Geri?”

Geri sighs. If it has to be someone, it’s better be Cesc. Geri knows himself - if he’s not going to talk it out now, it’ll eventually happen in the future, sooner or later. At least he knows what’s said between him and Cesc stays between him and Cesc - he’s still much better than Jordi, who’ll go and blurt it out to the first person he meets without even meaning to.

“I think.. I accidentally hurt a person I really care about,” he begins hesitantly, gaining confidence as he keeps speaking “But now he won’t believe me that it was not on purpose.”

Cesc listens carefully, playing with the corner of the blanket they’re lying on. “Well.. I mean, you can’t blame him.” he says after a moment of thoughtful thinking. “I can see Sergio’s point: you’re never serious, he has no reason to believe you start being now.”

Geri pales. He sits up, heart racing in his chest as he gapes at Cesc. “Did.. Did everybody hear us yelling?”

Cesc rolls his eyes. “No, Geri, nobody heard you,” he replies “you’re just really that obvious.”

Geri exhales in relief and goes back to his previous position, lying on the bed. “Jesus fuck, you scared me.”

They lie there for a while longer in silence, Cesc messing with the modes on the controller of the air-conditioning and Geri lost in thought.

“Don’t worry,” Cesc says suddenly, placing the controller back down and standing up from Geri’s bed “He’ll come around. He likes you too much not to.”

Geri blinks at him. He doesn’t fully get what Cesc is talking about, but past experience is telling him that he knows better, much better than him.

“Thanks,” he replies with a lopsided smile “I guess.” he looks over at his phone, tapping on it to check the time. “I’ll go for a run now, I don’t want to wake up at four a.m. tomorrow.”

He’s walking down the stairs to the lobby, messing with the settings of his wireless headphones, when Isco appears out of nowhere, almost making Geri crash into him.

“Gerard!” Isco looks like he’s just found the meaning of life when he sees it’s him. “Wait!” he places his hands on Geri’s sides, holding him in place “Is there any chance you know where that stupid ace card went?”

Geri’s eye twitches. He doesn’t think he’ll able to look at a deck of cards neutrally for the next few months. “What?”

Isco lets out a pitiful whine, glancing around. “El Mister said we lack manners, so he made me and Álvaro clean up everything and put the cards back. We found all of them except one. One!” there’s despair in his voice “And he won’t let it go!”

Geri stares at him. He doesn’t really feel like helping him. “What card are you missing?” he asks, just to not seem like too much of a jerk.

Isco’s eyes fill up with hope “The ace!” he exclaims, his grip on Geri tightening “The one that’s like the black heart, but in red and without the tail!”

“That is a heart,” Geri drawls slowly “And the black one with the tail is called a spade.”

Isco shakes his head “Whatever,” he says carelessly “Did you see it?”

If Geri didn’t feel like helping him before, then now he plain out refuses. Anybody who’s this dismissive about card games does not deserve help in his mind. He places his hands over Isco’s carefully and forces the other let go of him slowly. “No idea, dude.”

Geri pushes past him and heads toward the exit. He can hear Isco let out a frustrated groan behind him and fall to his knees. “Oh, come on!”

Geri wakes up the next morning when a pillow collides with his face.

“Come on,” he hears Cesc yell at him through the haze of the dreaminess in his mind. “Get up already!”

Geri groans and pushes himself into a half-sitting position, resting his weight on his elbows. “The hell, Cesc, is there a war or something?” he mutters, trying to rub the remains of sleep out of his eyes.

Cesc throws a towel at him. “Go brush your teeth and let’s go eat breakfast, before Jordi finishes all the bagels.” Geri’s throat goes dry at the mention of bagels. Yeah, this is pretty much a war if he will have to share them with Jordi.

They arrive just in time to get their hands on a pair of deliciously looking bagels with salmon and avocado. Geri watches the image of Cesc drooling over them dreamily for a while before laughing loudly and hitting the back of his head with a spoon lightly.

Geri means to head all the way to where Jordi and Busi are in the middle of a heated discussion with Saúl and Koke, but he’s stopped before he can reach their table.

Dani tilts his chair, leaning back until he’s blocking Geri’s way to the rest of the tables. He gestures with his fork at the empty chair next to him, almost making the sausage on it fly away. “Wanna sit with us?”

Geri squints at him, mentally calculating all the possible scenarios of the conversation in his head. “Why?” he asks suspiciously.

Dani stares at him for a moment. “I-” he lets his fork drop on his plate with a loud clink. “I’m trying to apologise for yesterday, okay? Don’t make this harder.” his tone is accusative more than anything, but at least he sounds honest.

Geri actually considers turning the offer down, out of sheer pettiness, but the next moment Cesc tugs on his sleeve and he finds himself having breakfast at the same table with Carvajal and Lucas Vázquez.

“So we’re good?” Dani insists, refusing to back down until he gets an official answer. When Geri doesn’t respond, he slides a sausage over to his plate.

Geri blinks at it. “What is this?”

“A peace offering.” Dani deadpans monotonously. He eyes Geri strangely “What, you don’t expect me to give you two , do you?”

Geri huffs. He nudges the sausage with his fork and slides it back to Dani’s plate. “Don’t sweat it, we’re better than ever.” he studies Dani’s stance. It doesn’t seem like him - he’s being way too loud about it, almost like he wants everyone to see that they’re getting along. “What, did Lopetegui force you to apologise?” Geri whispers, covering his mouth with a hand.

Dani groans. He leans back in his chair and picks up the sausage, stuffing it into his mouth in one go. “Nah, not him. Sergio told me to be nice to you.” he explains, letting the words out between bites.

Geri is very grateful that he isn’t eating anything at the moment, because otherwise he would’ve choked. “He what? ”

“Well,” Dani goes on casually, pushing omelette into his mouth as soon as he finishes the sausage. “That’s not very accurate, what he actually said was hey, Dani, don’t be a dick to Geri, I can’t handle both of you being dicks ,” he quotes, mimicking Sergio’s speech style “but I’m pretty sure what he meant was to be nicer to you.”

Geri turns around in his chair, not trying to be casual about it as he scans the room, searching for Sergio. He finds him between Andrés and Nolito, discussing something with Sergi and Costa. Sergio is looking at Andrés attentively as he speaks, purposefully not looking away at anything else. He’s visibly ignoring him, there’s no way he didn’t notice Geri staring considering his position. Geri frowns. He doesn’t get it. None of it makes any sense.

Somebody flops down in the chair opposite to him and Cesc, which makes his attention snap back to the table. It’s Isco, immediately followed by Morata beside him. Geri’s frown increases. He doesn’t like the growing number of madridistas at their table.

“Did you find the card?” Cesc asks them as soon as they join them. Geri doesn’t want to think about how Cesc could possibly know about the cards.

“You won’t believe where it was!” Isco exclaims, much louder than what’s strictly necessary. He’s lucky that the breakfast room isn’t at all quiet in general, so his despair drowns in the sea of the rest of the voices.

Isco shuts his eyes and lets his head drop down. For a moment, Geri thinks that he’s going to land right in his own plate - he’s actually kind of anticipating it - but before that can happen Morata pushes his plate aside, so Isco’s forehead simply collides with the table painfully.

“We found it in Sergio’s room this morning.” Morata tells them, seeing how Isco is clearly not in the right state to manage anything fully coherent. He places a hand on Isco’s head, patting him reassuringly. “He was using it as a bookmark.”

Cesc gives them a sympathetic smile. Lucas bursts out laughing. Geri turns around again, squinting at Sergio in the distance.

“I don’t get you.” he mutters to himself through gritted teeth. Sergio is still not looking at him, but this time it’s not necessarily on purpose - he’s telling something to the rest of the table, waving his hands around to add dramatism to his story. Geri wishes he could get a glimpse of what’s going on in his head, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Before he can start overthinking, the image of Sergio is blocked with another sausage.

“Are you sure,” Dani asks slowly, stressing each word as he waves the fork in front of Geri’s face “that you don’t want a sausage?” he raises an eyebrow meaningfully. “And this time I’m not offering because Sergio said so, they’re just really fucking good.”

Geri sighs. “Fine,” he gives in “give it to me.”

Sergio keeps ignoring him for the rest of the day, training included. Well, technically, he’s not ignoring him since Geri doesn’t ever actually approach him, but Geri likes to think of it as ignoring anyway.

They still haven’t talked by the time they get on the plane. Sergio catches a seat at one of the front rows between Dani and Lucas, while Geri takes Cesc with him and sits at the back of the plane. Cesc sets up a bunch of pillows on the empty seat between them and passes out as soon as they’re in the air.

Geri waits for the seatbelt sign to turn off and pulls out his phone out of the front seat pocket, opening one of the downloaded books he has there. He’s into the reading for not longer than fifteen minutes when something hot, wet and sticky splashes onto his side, making him hiss and pull his headphones down. “What the--”

He looks down. He finds his shirt soaked and covered with noodles.

He looks up. He finds Sergio standing in the aisle with a hand pressed over his mouth and a half-empty cup of noodle soup in his hand.

“Fuck.” Sergio curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Geri, I’m so fucking sorry. The water is fucking boiling, oh my--”

Heads are turned in their direction from all over the plane, watching the scene. Andrés rolls his eyes and goes back to sleep; Thiago’s mouth is open in shock; Isco, Carvajal and Jordi are cackling.

“Take off your shirt, quick.” Sergio shoves the noodles box into the hands of the closest person to him (who just so happens to be Pepe) and helps Geri pull the soaked shirt off. “Let’s go, go, go,” He grabs his forearm, pulling him up, and pushes him in the direction of the bathroom.

It’s small, so they don’t actually fit in there together, and the door is left open, for the entire plane to hear Sergio joking about “turning Geri’s abs into tofu”.

“Just kidding, sorry,” He grabs one of the small towels lying on the shelf just above the sink, and pushes it under the water stream to wet it. “Here,”

It’s not exactly comfortable, but Sergio refuses to leave for some reason, so in the end they kind of figure something out. Sergio closes the toilet and sits down on it, while Geri is standing next to the sink, trying to get the surprisingly sticky liquid off his skin.

Sergio still has his shirt in his hands, with all the noodles on it, turning it around. “I can’t believe you ruined my lunch, you asshole.” He mutters. “I payed four bloody euros for it.”

Geri snorts. “ I ruined your lunch? You poured it all over me!” He’s well aware of the fact that everybody can hear what they’re saying, but he can’t bring himself to care. “How did that even happen, by the way?”

Sergio shrugs. “I don’t really know. I just kinda..” He gestures with his hand vaguely. “Forgot it was there.”

Geri gives him an incredulous look. “Really?”

“Kinda.”

Geri clicks his tongue and goes back to cleaning the soup off his chest.

Sergio redirects his attention back to Geri’s shirt. “It was such a lovely soup. It didn’t deserve it.” He murmurs dreamily. Then he picks up one a noodle from the shirt, looks it over, and pushes it into his mouth. Geri almost chokes.

“ Please don’t do that again.” He wheezes. “It’s gross and disgusting.”

Sergio looks up at him with playful smile. “My noodles or your shirt?”

Geri lets out the longest groan he can manage. He leans over and pulls the shirt out of Sergio’s hold, before the other can get any other weird ideas. Geri shakes the remaining noodles off into the small garbage bin by the sink and straightens the shirt out, taking a closer look at it. It’s completely ruined. Alright, no - he could, theoretically, put it somewhere and wash it later, but it’s nothing but a plain white shirt anyway, it is simply not worth the trouble.

“Do you..” Sergio gestures at Geri’s bare chest, putting way too much emphasis into the action, which suddenly makes Geri very aware of the fact that he’s stuck with Sergio in a plane bathroom with no shirt on. “..have anything to change into?” he finishes with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh.” Geri blinks down at his naked chest. He hasn’t thought about it until now, but now that he does.. “Actually,” he look back to meet Sergio’s eyes. “I think all my spare stuff is in the baggage.”

“Uh-huh.” Sergio nods briefly. “That might be a problem.” he adds helpfully. There’s a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Well, forgive me for not thinking that you might decide to shower me with noodles in the middle of the flight,” he retorts pointedly, placing a hand on his hip. Sergio actually looks guilty. It’s satisfying, to be able to squeeze that expression out of him, but at the same time Geri isn’t sure how he feels about it.

“Well..” the other begins, almost hesitantly “I do have a spare t-shirt in my backpack, with me here..” he trails off, biting on his lower lip. He looks unsure, almost self-conscious. The expression looks really wrong on his face, but at the same time there’s something endearing about it.

Geri raises an eyebrow. “But?” he prompts. He wonders what could be the problem. Does he not want to share it with Geri? Is it something he wouldn’t want to give to another person? But then, Sergio could just not mention that he had one at all. “If it’s about the size then it’s fine, I’m not that taller than you.” he adds as an afterthought.

Sergio shakes his head. “No,” he says “It’s just that..” he sighs, and Geri can almost see the thinking process behind his eyes, trying to figure out how to put it. “It’s my training jersey.”

Geri waits for a follow-up. There’s none. “And..?” he asks, confused.

Sergio frowns - but this time it’s not out of frustration, he’s just irritated. “And?” he echoes, like Geri is missing something very obvious. “And, it has my name and number on it, that’s what!”

Geri blinks. “Oh .” now, that might be a serious problem. He wonders if Cesc or Jordi have anything spare with them on the plane for a moment, but there’s no way it could fit him. At least he and Sergio are more or less the same size. And yet, looking ridiculous in a tight, undersized shirt would still be better than the alternative. For his public image, that is. Geri’s own desires are not always the better choice for his public image (they usually aren’t, and his entire twitter account is one big proof of that). He almost agrees, but he’s too slow.

Sergio must’ve taken his silence the wrong way, because he leans back and lets out a laugh. “Awful idea, I know. Maybe we could cover it up with something or..” he glances down at his own shirt and something flashes behind his eyes for a moment. “Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, jumping up to his feet. There’s close to no space left in the room, and he immediately almost knocks his head on a shelf. Sergio curses and sits back down. “I could give you this one, and then I can change into my training shirt.” before Geri has the chance to make any input, Sergio is already on his feet, pushing past him and darting back into the aisle. “Wait here!”

As soon as he’s back he throws his training jersey on the sink counter and pulls his own shirt off by the back of the collar. Geri fixates his eyes on Sergio’s face, trying really hard not to stare. If he does steal a couple of glances, he hopes that at least they aren’t too obvious.

“This,” Sergio hands him the shirt he just took off, shoving it into his hands “is for you, and this,” he grabs the training jersey back from the counter, turning it over to put it on “is for me.” The well-defined abdominal muscles disappear behind the red material. Geri tries to not look disappointed.

“Aye, got it.” Geri replies in a casual tone. He looks at the shirt Sergio handed him - it’s a simple, plain red La Selección t-shirt with gold at its edges and the crest over the heart. There’s no name, no number, nothing remarkable about it. But it’s still warm in Geri’s hands, and it smells like Sergio when he brings it closer. Before he can think too much into it, Geri pulls it on.

Sergio leans back against the sink behind them and tugs on the hem of the t-shirt. “It’s not so bad.” he comments casually. Geri isn’t sure what he’s referring to - the size, the way it sits on him, or the fact that it’s Sergio’s shirt that he’s wearing.

Geri decides to go for the safe option. “Yeah, you’re not as small as I thought, noodle head.”

Sergio looks at him with a quizzical expression on his face. “Don’t you usually call Cris noodle head?”

Geri waves his hand around dismissively. “You’re both noodle heads now. And Madrid is the noodle team.”

Sergio is plain smirking at him by now. “The noodle team that’s going to beat your ass this season.”

Geri gives him an amused look. “Oh really?”

They could probably go on like that until the end of the flight, but then Jordi is at the door, leaning against the wall with an annoyed look on his face. “Guys, we’re really glad you’re having fun and all, but please, there are only two toilets and like,” he makes a vague gesture with his hand in the direction of the aisle with the rest of the chairs “twenty of us. So please, go do..” he trails off, a judgmental look on his face as he studies them and the space around them “..whatever you’re doing somewhere else. In short, get the hell out of here already.”

Geri sends a glance in Sergio’s direction. Sergio grins at him.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, Geri.”

When he enters the dressing room Sergio is there, balancing himself on a stool as he tries to reach the top of the closet.

“What are you doing?”

Sergio winces and jerks his hand away, almost slipping to the ground as he turns around abruptly. When he sees it’s Geri, he lets out a long, relieved sigh and places a hand over his chest.

“Oh my god , Geri, you almost gave me a heart attack.” he groans, jumping down back to the ground.

Geri crosses his arms and leans against the doorway with an unimpressed look. “Yeah, but what are you doing?” he repeats.

Instead of answering, Sergio walks over to him and grabs his arm, dragging him to the closet. “Come here, maybe you can reach it.”

Before he can protest, he’s shoved on top of the stool. Geri reaches his hand up, but even he can’t reach the top of the closet. It’s too high. “I can’t get there.”

Sergio clicks his tongue in annoyance and huffs. “What’s the point of being tall if you can’t reach things when it matters?”

Geri decides Sergio’s comment does not deserve a reaction. He frowns thoughtfully, trying to come up with something. He doesn’t know what’s on top of the closet - he isn’t going to ask either; knowing Sergio, it’s something incredibly stupid that he just won’t give up simply because he’s Sergio.

Sergio makes a similar expression next to him, arms crossed. “I could climb on you and then try to..” he begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before his wild imagination can come up with something completely unrealistic, yet that he would stubbornly insists on trying out, Geri cuts him off.

“Give me the broom,” he orders, gesturing at the long, wooden object at the corner of the room. Sergio’s expression switches from offended at being interrupted, to confused about the item that hasn’t caught his attention up until now, and then all over to astonished as the realisation sinks in. He grabs the broom quickly and hands it to Geri, who grabs it by the end and starts fumbling with it at the top of the closet.

“What are we even searching for?”

Sergio leans against the side of the closet, one leg crossed over the other as he watches Geri mess around with the broom. “Dani’s tape.” at Geri’s puzzled look, he explains further “He doesn’t let me use it because he always says go get your own , so he hid it.” Geri keeps his eyes on the broom but raises an eyebrow to let Sergio know that what he just said does very little to explain anything. “I do have my own,” Sergio adds, “but I’m going to use his anyway, out of principle.”

“Uh-huh.” Geri wonders when exactly he stopped being surprised at all the weird shit Sergio always pulled. “Wait,” he pauses when he feels the edge of the broom hit something at the top, away from what his eye can see “I think I got it.” he starts slowly pulling the broom toward him, dragging the item it caught with it.

“What in the world are you two doing?”

Geri flinches and swirls around at Dani’s voice; Sergio does the same. The other opens his mouth to protest, and Geri does as well, the words it was Sergio’s idea already at the tip of his tongue, but then he loses hold of the broom and it falls down, hitting the floor, making the the object on the top of the closet fall down as well.

It’s not Dani’s tape, surprisingly, instead it’s a small red balloon that explodes as soon as it hits the ground, sending splashes of red paint all over him, Sergio and the floor around them.

Dani doubles over with laughter, almost falling to his knees. “Oh my god, Sergio, you- you actually fell for it,” he grabs the door handle, desperately trying to keep himself upright as laughter shakes his entire body “I can’t- I can’t-” he pants, struggling to get out the words between intakes of air “I can’t believe it..!”

Sergio’s eyes are so fierce and furious Geri is almost sure he could physically burn holes in Dani’s body. “You little..”

Geri sighs, running a hand over his paint-stained shirt. This is going to take a hell lot of time to clean out.

It takes over an hour for him and Sergio to finish getting the paint off the floor and out of their hair and clothes. Suddenly, the memory of Isco and Morata having to gather all the cards back together doesn’t seem as funny anymore. Once they’re done, Sergio simply drops down on the floor, back resting against the wall, and Geri collapses on a bench next to him. They stay like that for a few moments, trying to catch their breath.

“Sorry,” Sergio says suddenly.

Geri turns his head to look at him. There’s an amused smile at the corner of his lips, but at the same time the apology doesn’t sound ingenuine either.

“About the noodles, I mean,” Sergio clarifies “and now this, too..” he observes the clean floor for a moment, the result of their joint efforts, and then lets out a laugh “It seems like I keep getting you into trouble.”

Geri watches him. He doesn’t think Sergio fully realises just how true the statement is. “You don’t say.”

“Oi, come on,” Sergio shifts over so he’s sitting closer to him, landing a light punch on Geri’s shoulder with his fist. “It’s not like you aren’t enjoying all the attention .”

Geri hesitates with his reply. He knows Sergio isn’t referring to that - or maybe he is - but he does not, in fact, enjoy all the attention, or at least not the negative parts of it; just like he does not, contrary to popular opinion, do anything of what he does with the purpose of getting scolded by the coach of whistled by the crowd. He thinks (he would like to believe) that Sergio understands, in a way - like he never does anything of what he does on purpose to get a card, but still ends up getting it every time. There’s just something about what they do that seems to draw attention, not always in the better definition of the word.

He wants to laugh it off, but some of it must show on his face, because Sergio frowns suddenly and says, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Geri shrugs. “It’s okay if you did.” most people do, either way.

“I did not mean it like that.” Sergio repeats insistently. Geri thinks he believes him (he always does).

It seems like something always goes unsaid between them, ever since that night after they lost to Italy. It’s partly Sergio’s fault because he’s the one who backed out, but it’s also Geri’s fault as well because he never bother bringing it up. He wonders if right now would be a proper time to say something.

“I was wondering..”

Sergio leans his head back, resting it against the same bench Geri’s lying on. “Yes?”

Geri looks at him. Sergio’s hair is still wet (they had to wash it thoughtfully after Geri accidentally smeared paint over it), the light brown strands scattered all over his forehead messily. Geri swallows. He can’t.

“What did Cristiano mean by don’t forget to water the cactus ?”

The question seems to catch Sergio completely off guard. “I- it’s..” he splutters, a sudden shade of pink that wasn’t there previously rising to his cheeks. It looks like there is an internal battle going on in his mind, before one of the sides wins over. “It’s rather silly,” he confesses, finally giving in. “I was.. Talking with Cris about you..”

Geri raises an eyebrow. “Oh, Ramos and Ronaldo spend their free time talking about me?” he knows he risks Sergio quitting the explanation altogether, but he simply can’t help but tease him a bit.

The other elbows him in the shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says “I was complaining about you, to be more specific.” now, that sounds like something Geri can believe. “So I compared you to a cactus, because whenever I’m around you, you always stab me with your needles.”

Geri holds back a snort of laughter. Sergio’s graphic word choices are a bit too much sometimes. He wants to comment on it, but decides to keep quiet and let the other go on.

“And he said that a cactus could still give flowers and edible fruits, you just need to take care of it properly.” Sergio explains “And, therefore, I need to water you if I want to get fruits or some shit.” he makes a vague gesture with his hand “Only when he said it, it sounded all philosophical and smart. You know how Cris is.”

Geri does laugh this time. He knows how Cristiano is - unfortunately. Not as well anymore, but some things never change.

“So you decided to take his advice literally and spilled noodles all over me?”

Sergio shuts his eyes and groans at the ceiling. “Will you ever let it go?”

Geri’s laughter grows louder. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

They qualify to the World Cup with a bang. They beat Italy; they beat everybody in their group and come out on top. It’s their way of showing the world that they’re still Spain; that they might not have the old, golden players anymore, but there’s young blood flowing through the veins of the team. They have Isco and De Gea, they have Saúl and Asensio, they have Morata and Sergi (they still have him and Sergio, they always did).

Geri would lie if he said he didn’t check the betting stats - Spain is, in fact, among the favourites to win the World Cup, alongside with Germany and Brazil. He never trusted betting stats, they do nothing to change what’s meant to happen - but it does give you confidence, which is always a crucial factor when it comes to good performance.

Geri misses their last qualifier against Israel because of his yellow - but he watches the game, he always does. They look happy when the match ends - this win is Spain’s ticket to the World Cup - and when the camera zooms in on Sergio’s overjoyed face, Geri feels himself regretting the yellow card for the first time since he got it. It’s not like he got it on purpose - but after he did, it seemed like not such a bad idea, getting a bit of rest before club football. Now, as he watches Sergio laughing alongside with Jordi and Isco, he wishes he could be there as well.

A bad loss is what started the whole mess in the first place, maybe a good win is what they need to fix it?

He doesn’t expect to see Sergio as soon as he does. He doesn’t expect to see him at all, when he leaves the dressing room of Atléti’s new stadium and heads outside, where the bus is waiting for them.

Sergio is in the parking lot, leaning against his car casually, looking completely relaxed, like he’s feeling at home (he probably is, Geri realises, Madrid is always Madrid, no matter if it’s Real or Atlético). He’s wearing sunglasses with a baseball cap and has the hood of his shirt pulled over his head, but it’s unmistakably him.

Geri stops in his tracks when he notices him. Luis, Leo and the others are still in the dressing room, he has some time before the bus is ready to leave.

He’s at a loss of words for a second, but recovers quickly. “Came to steal our tactics?”

Sergio laughs. “Oh, well, I came hoping to see you lose, but..” he gives a small shrug “Guess a draw isn’t so bad either.” his words aren’t friendly, but there’s a playful smile on his lips.

“Yeah, eh?” he raises an eyebrow, responding to Sergio’s smirk with his own. “Only a five points gap now, and Ronaldo finally scored. You guys must be overjoyed.”

“Don’t be cocky, we all know how much Barcelona love dropping points in the middle of the season.” Sergio says. He can be an ass sometimes, but he also knows how to take a joke, which is why it’s so easy to banter with him. Geri secretly appreciates it. “But hey,” he pulls his right hand out of the pocket of his jacket and gestures at the building behind them with it. “It’s your first time in this stadium, isn’t it?”

Geri turns to throw a look at the stadium. If he’s being honest, he was so focused on the game itself, he forgot to look at it properly. It does look nice, though. Wanda Metropolitano is visibly larger than the Calderón, and there’s definitely something about it. “Yeah,” he says “It’s great.” it’s nothing compared to Camp Nou, but Geri feels no need to voice that under such circumstances. Sergio would probably say the same thing about the Bernabéu anyway.

“Yeah,” Sergio hums, eyes on the building as well. “We still haven’t played here.” his mouth twitches then, and the next moment there’s a cheeky smirk on his face. “Can’t wait to score here.”

Geri rolls his eyes, deciding to not grant that comment with a proper reaction. He tears his gaze away from the stadium and looks back to Sergio. The other still hasn’t made his intentions clear, he realises. Sergio might exaggerate things sometimes, but Geri doubts he would come all the way to Atléti’s ground and wait for him there only to get on his nerves.

“Why are you here?”

The question does nothing to Sergio’s composure. He probably expected it, sooner or later. Sergio shrugs lightly “Eh, I know? We just got back from Getafe two hours ago,” he waves a hand in the air, drawing abstract shapes with it. “I was going to head home, but then I remember you’re here for a match, and..” he trails off. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of decision, most likely. Geri knows how it is, he gets that a lot.

“We haven’t celebration the qualification yet.” Sergio adds after a moment. “We could go somewhere, and then I can drop you off at the hotel. You can ask Jordi and the others if they want to join us.”

Geri watches him. “I don’t think they want to.” it wasn’t an invitation anyway - Sergio only said it to not be too direct, to give Geri a chance to escape in case either of them was interpreting the situation wrong. Or maybe Geri is thinking too hard again.

He can feel Sergio’s bold gaze even through the sunglasses. “Good.” He steps aside, opens the car door and gets inside. Geri follows him, settling down in the passenger seat.

“At least the gap isn’t as big anymore.” Sergio circles his finger around the rim of his glass. He’s not drunk, surprisingly. He’s only ordered a glass of wine, and he hasn’t even drunk half of it until now. Geri was going to go for something stronger, but settled for just wine as well - for some reason, he has a feeling he should stay sober tonight. “It used to be, what..?” he scrunches up his nose in a displeased grimace “Seven points?”

Geri should’ve known better; of course the night would end up with Sergio whining about Madrid and La Liga, it was silly of him to expect anything else. But he does it so casually, like he isn’t talking to his rival number one. Geri is slightly amazed by it. “Seven points..” he murmurs. It’s an interesting number. “A Ronaldo.”

Sergio snorts. “Now that you put it like that.” he drums his fingers against the wooden surface of the table. “And now it’s gone down from Ronaldo to..” he frowns. “Who plays with a five?”

“Eh..” Geri looks up at the ceiling, going through his memory. “Puyi was a five.”

Sergio laughs loudly. “From Ronaldo to Puyol.” he says with a grin “Well, that’s progress.”

Geri studies him. There’s a strange, unexplainable urge bubbling up in his chest. He wants to do something, he isn’t sure what. It feels like the night they lost to Italy all over again, except with less bitter taste of the after-loss and more tension. He should really learn to control his emotions better.

It’s Geri who initiates the kiss this time. He sets his glass aside and leans over, bringing his lips to Sergio’s. He tastes like wine, but then again, so does Geri himself.

Sergio is stunned for a moment, but then Geri feels a hand at the back of his neck, and Sergio is kissing back.

He isn’t sure how much time passes, but at a certain moment they both pull back simultaneously. Their lips part, but their faces stay close to each other, so close Geri can feel Sergio’s breathing against his skin.

Sergio bites his lip suggestively - Geri isn’t sure if it’s on purpose - and then suddenly pulls them into a small smirk. “Is this what Cris meant by water the cactus ?”

Geri groans. “God, just stop talking already.” he threads his fingers into Sergio’s hair and leans in for another kiss. Sergio doesn’t protest.

They don’t get to enjoy the second round for too long, because Sergio decides to lean his elbow on the counter in front of them, which makes the wine glass standing there tip over the edge and fall down to the floor. They spring apart at the sound of shattering glass, startled. When Geri looks down, he finds small, red stains of wine on Sergio’s shirt and on his jeans.

“You’re fucking kidding me, Ramos.”

Instead of apologising, Sergio simply laughs. He leans his forehead against Geri’s shoulder, chest heaving with laughter.

Geri shakes his hand, but he can’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed. “You just can’t stop spilling things all over me?”

Sergio pulls away, leaning against the back of his chair. “You shouldn’t- shouldn’t have put your glass that close to the edge!” he protests between heaves of laughter.

Geri grabs a napkin from the table and rubs it against the material of his jeans, but it turns out to be useless. The liquid’s already soaked in. He clicks his tongue, muttering a series of curses under his breath.

“Come on,” Sergio stands up and claps him on the back “Let’s go. I’ll give you something to change into. You can stay over at my place.”

Geri looks up. Sergio doesn’t look like he’s kidding. And well, if this is what it takes, then he doesn’t mind hav ing red wine spilled on his jeans every single day.

He’s woken up by the most horrible sound his ears have ever heard. Geri rolls over and puts a pillow on his head, but it does nothing to mute it.

“Jesus fuck,” he mumbles “Sergio, for the love of god, turn it off.” when there’s no immediate reply, Geri groans in frustration. “Please!” He forces himself to open his eyes and sit up, but Sergio is nowhere to be seen. He’s probably in the shower or already in the kitchen, he figures. Never there when you really need him, Geri grumbles internally.

He grabs the phone from the nightstand and answers the call, ready to throw his full rage at the person who dared to wake him up.

“ Yes? ”

There’s silence. Geri pulls the phone away to stare at the screen. He realises too late that it’s not his phone.

“So I take it Sergio watered the cactus?” Cristiano’s cheeky voice comes through the speaker.

Geri hangs up and throws the phone at the carpet.

When he gets downstairs, Sergio is already there, munching something.

“Yo,” he greets him casually, not looking up from the book in his hands. “You’re finally up.”

Geri drags himself over to the table and sits down next to him. “Your friend is an ass.” he complains.

“I know.” Sergio picks up another pistachio, placing it in his mouth. “Which one?” he finally looks up from the book then, and motions at a plate on the kitchen counter that Geri hasn’t noticed up until now. “There’s fruit salad and omelette.” he says “Just don’t eat it together, it’s gross.”

Geri huffs out a laugh. He doesn’t want to know how Sergio got that information. “I see.”

He walks over to the counter and opens the fridge, searching for yogurt to add to the fruits. When he sits back down, his eyes involuntary go back to Sergio. He gets an idea suddenly.

Geri pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the twitter app. His fingers hover above the keyboard for a second before he types out a short sentence.

“@SergioRamos, te amo cabrón.”

He hits post and places the phone aside on the table, before returning to his food. Sergio looks up at him with a curious look.

“Who are you texting?”
Geri blinks at him innocently. “Nobody.” Sergio shrugs and goes back to his book.

Geri throws a smirk at his phone. He’ll let his PR manager deal with this one.

It’s not like anybody ever takes him seriously anyway.