Archive of Our Own

As days went, this one could be considered quite normal, at least if you were a normal person. The sun was out, the breeze was pleasantly warm, and the city was quiet. It would have been the perfect day to spend outside, to bask in the sun, go for a swim down by the beach or play some football. Leo would have preferred any of the options, some more than others for obvious reasons, but instead he was forced to stay inside.   

The whole thing started with a scuffle between Barcelona and Real Madrid, the two groups in the town. Leo hadn’t been told the whole story, because he was as Pep put it “too young to worry about this”, which he thought was stupid. I mean he had just turned 20 years old, plus Cesc got to sit in on the meeting and he was only a month and a bit older than Leo. He had pouted and begged his friend to tell him all the details, but Cesc refused, just patting his head and telling him the grown-ups were going to fix this. Leo had scowled at his childhood friend, but knew he wouldn’t change his mind and let it go. 

All he knew was that it had resulted in Puyol coming back with a black eye and David had some scratches up his arm. Both also had bruised knuckles, so Leo could put together a rough story of what had happened.  

But now Pep had refused anyone to go outside, unless it was important business and he approved. He had given Leo, Cesc and Gerard an extra stern look when he said this, making sure the young trio knew it especially applied to them. It had been four days since the forced lockdown, but it felt like years to the youngsters. 

Leo groaned as he walked yet another round through the kitchen and living room. He was bored out of his mind, he was restless, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t go anywhere, he couldn’t do anything! Reaching a full circle, Leo let himself fall down on the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. Nobody but him was awake, the clock on the wall showing the time to be half past six, way too early for anybody reasonable to be awake. The young Argentinian would usually have been asleep at this time as well, but he was way too full of pent-up energy to even think about sleeping now. 

The brunet wanted to, no he needed to find something to do. He might explode if he didn’t find an outlet for his energy. Shaking one of his legs that was slung over the armrest, Leo started to think of what he could do.  

He could always bug Cesc or Gerard, get them to play some FIFA, but neither of them were morning people, and the chances of getting them to wake up early was slim to none. Besides, the three of them were way to loud while playing and would just wake up the rest of the house. 

Looking over at the kitchen, the young boy thought about making some food, but remembered that Andrés had banned him from doing just that. It wasn’t his fault, not really, it was David for dragging him out to play football, thus leaving the food on the stove for way too long.  

Okay, so he might have a tendency to burn the food he was making. But to his defense, they didn’t exactly teach cooking lessons at the orphanage. He was sure that if he asked Andrés nicely, the elder would gladly teach him. However, since the man was currently dead asleep, like the rest of the house, making anything in the kitchen was out of the question. Well, except for cereal and slices of bread, even he couldn’t mess that up. 

Then it hit him, an idea so brilliant that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Since everyone was asleep, nobody was here to stop him from going outside. He would just take his football that Ronaldinho had given him for his fist birthday in Barcelona and go play a bit. Nobody needed to know, and besides, he would only go to the park down the street. It was far away from any of Real Madrid’s territories and close enough to their home that if something happened, he could just run back. It was perfect!  

Grinning to himself, Leo jumped up from the couch and ran to his room to grab the football. As he got upstairs, he slowed down to sneak past Cesc’s and Ronaldinho’s room, not wanting to risk waking anyone who would stop him. Successfully grabbing what he needed and sneaking back downstairs, the brunet quickly scribbled a short message on a piece of paper to leave in the kitchen, just in case something hindered him from coming back in time. Even though he was sneaking out, he wasn't an idiot, and he knew the risk, so leaving the message was for the best.  

Quietly shutting the door behind him, the Argentinian hurried down the street towards the park, laughter bubbling up his throat. He didn’t know why he was so giddy, perhaps it was because he had never done anything like this before. Never snuck out, never disobeyed orders, never really gone anywhere without someone with him. Leo knew they meant well, just wanting to protect him. He understood that his was smaller than average, he understood that he had been sick a lot when he was younger and that his body couldn't really handle everything that a normal body could. He would forever be thankful to Barcelona, for them to take him in under their wing, to support his many medical bills, to give him the medicine and hormones he needed to grow and to be healthy.  

However, now that he was older, it seemed a bit overboard to follow him around everywhere. Yes, the constant danger of Real Madrid was real, but Leo had no intentions of mingling with them. Their rival group was known to be more violent and cause trouble, both for Barcelona and for the city as a whole. So no, Leo would definitely not go anywhere near that group or their territories.  

Arriving at the park, the brunet hurried over to his usual spot, an open field toward the back. Trees lined the outskirts and the only man-made thing there was the bathrooms. Ronaldinho would always take him here, especially after he learned how happy Leo became while playing football. It later developed into everyone going there together, some playing, others just relaxing. Those were Leo’s favorite days. Pep would come out of his office for once, Puyol would smile his true smile, and he could see the weight lift of off everyone’s shoulders.  Sadly, with everything going on between Barcelona and Real Madrid, those days were fewer and far between.  

‘Hmmm, maybe if I ask real nicely, perhaps we could go here with everyone again. I’m sure the others would agree with me’ Leo thought to himself, smiling at the idea. He was really on fire today with all these brilliant ideas. 

That was the last thought he had before letting football take over. Leo cleared his head fully, not thinking about Real Madrid, not about Barcelona, not about anything other than the ball at his feet. He moved instinctively, just dribbling, bouncing and playing with the ball. It felt amazing. All his energy seemed to flow out of him, but he didn’t feel tired. On the contrast, he felt energized, he felt happy. The Argentinian hadn’t really noticed how much the conflict had affected him until right now, when all his worries and stress left him. HIs shoulders dropped and his whole body felt less tense. 

Any comprehension of time seemed to escape Leo; he was completely lost in football. The sun rose higher in the sky, more and more people passed by, and the city was slowly starting to wake up. However, to the brunet none of this mattered, he was perfectly fine ignoring everyone and everything. He had always been more appreciative of the silence than others his age. Leo was content in his own little bubble. 

That was of course until someone burst that safe bubble. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Barcelona’s little baby”.

The football dropped to the ground and rolled a few feet away, but Leo didn’t even notice. The brunet had frozen completely at the voice behind him. Slowly, he turned around to face the perpetrator, ending up face to face with probably the three people he wanted to see the least: Pepe, Marcelo and Ronaldo, the latter being the one who had spoken to him. 

“And all alone out here, must be our lucky day,” Pepe grinned at Leo, and that smile reminded the young boy of a shark. 

The Argentinian was still frozen, just staring back at the trio. He cursed himself internally. How could he be this stupid, sneaking out when Pep had strictly told him not to, and now he was paying the prize. Leo had a slim chance if he went up against someone from Real Madrid one on one, three on one was just plain cruel. There was no way he could fight his way out, and they were blocking the exit, so running didn’t seem possible either. Well then, stalling it is, at least until he could figure out some sort of escape plan. 

“Wha...What are you doing here?” he managed to ask, cursing his stuttering for proving how afraid he really was. 

“Oh, just going for a walk. It has been unbearably boring around here the last days,” Marcelo said, “almost feels like you have gone into hiding”. 

“More like running away,” Pepe laughed, “can’t handle one little fight”. 

“Says you, you were the one who wanted us to back away after Villa hit you once”. 

“Shut your mouth Chris, you weren’t even there!”. 

While the three of them were bickering back and forth, Leo started to slowly creep backwards, hoping to put some distance between himself and the trio. He got about five steps away before his back hit something cold and solid, letting out a soft thud that caught the attention of the madridistas.  

Leo couldn’t do anything but let out a quiet curse as his back hit the wall of the building. In his panicked state he had completely forgotten that he had been kicking the ball at the wall, practicing passes and rebounds. Just his luck, the one building in the whole field and he finds himself cornered against it by his family’s rival group. Leo was really starting to question if his idea had been as brilliant as he first had thought. 

“Now, now, no need to hurry along, we just want to have a chat,” Ronaldo smiled, stepping closer to Leo, still a few feet away, but making Leo shrink into himself eve more. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Leo managed to say, “it’s our side of town”. 

“Oh, listen to that,” Pepe sneered, “pequeno thinks he can tell us what to do”. 

“Cute,” Ronaldo smiled, stepping even closer, leaning down to Leo’s height, “don’t think you are anything special, la pulga ”. 

The taller spat the nickname out like it was poison, smirking down at Leo, clearly trying to provoke some sort of reaction from him. Had Leo spared one second to think, he might have picked up on this. However, hearing the name Barcelona had lovingly teased him with being said in such a way, from a madridista none the less, just made his blood boil. So, he did the only logical thing and pushed Ronaldo as hard as he could. 

If Leo ever were to think back to this moment, he would have realized that trying to push the biggest person there would not end well for him. Though, to his defense, he was panicking at this point and wanted Ronaldo as far away from him as possible. Said man stumbled back a few steps, clearly not prepared for the push. In spite of this he managed to keep his balance, and shot Leo a glare, making the brunet gulp. 

“Bad move Messi,” Ronaldo said darkly. 

Taking two long strides, the Portuguese grabbed Leo by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the building behind him. The Argentinian felt his head hit the wall hard, making him see stars for a second, letting out a yelp of pain. Blinking away the tears that had forced their way into his eyes, he looked up and locked eyes with his attacker. Behind Ronaldo, both Pepe and Marcelo had stepped closer, now wearing matching grins. 

“Here we are trying to hold a civil conversation, and you attack me out of nowhere,” Ronaldo had Leo’s shirt tight in his grip, forcing the smaller boy to stand on his tip toes, “did they not teach you manners back at Barca?”. 

“Obviously not! Not surprising though, we have all seen what kind of people they are,” Marcelo piped up, still with that stupid grin on his face. 

“Don’t talk about them like that!” Leo growled. 

“Like what? Like the savages that they are?” Pepe laughed, “it’s actually more of a surprise that they haven't killed each other yet. Poor Guardiola has his work cut out for him trying to wrangle them all”. 

“Like he is any better,” Ronaldo said, “he’s too much of a coward to be any kind of boss”. 

“Not to mention his freaky second in command Puyol, he thinks he’s so scary, but runs away at the slightest mention of a fight”. 

“And that tall Swedish mutant, I don’t even think he knows any Spanish”. 

“Or that Villa. I am pretty sure he’s actually crazy”. 

The trio went back and forth insulting Leo’s family, which was something he wasn’t going to tolerate. One thing was to mock him, but to downright disrespect his people was something completely different. The worst thing was that they were doing it right in front of him, making sure Leo heard each and every word.  

“Shut up!” he yelled, fed up with the three madridistas, “shut up, don’t talk about them!”. 

The trio, surprisingly enough, actually stopped the taunting. However, when three pairs of eyes turned to the brunet, Leo realized that meant that they focused back on him. Well, he preferred to be the center of attention if it meant stopping the insults aimed at his family. He would always try to protect the people who had done the same for him all his life, whether it was them personally or their honor. 

Leo was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by a fist to his left cheek, sending him to the ground. Blinking slightly in shock, the brunet carefully raised a hand to touch his face. His cheek stung, no doubt turning red fast. So much for trying to keep him sneaking out a secret, Leo thought to himself, knowing how fast he bruised. Even if he somehow made it out of this situation in one piece, the others would know the moment they laid eyes on him. 

“Don’t ever tell me to shut up cadela,” Ronaldo snarled down at him, his clenched fists proving it was him who had hit Leo. 

The other two had also stepped closer, making Leo feel even more caged inn. The three men were now looming over him, wearing different expressions of satisfaction and malice. The brunet could feel tears fill his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. There was no way he was letting the madridistas see him cry.  

The Argentinian tried to stand back up but was sent to the ground again by a swift kick to the ribs by Pepe. The small boy could not stop the yelp of pain that escaped his mouth, as he hit the ground once more. Leo wrapped one arm around himself to protect form any other potential attacks. He used the other to support himself but made no more moves to stand up. 

“That’s right, nobody told you that you could stand up,” Pepe smirked, “so stay down”. 

Leo bit back a whimper of pain, whether it was pain from his head or rib was unknown to him. He tried instead to focus on looking for an opportunity to escape. He scanned the open field, there was nobody else here, so calling for help was out of the question. The brunet tried to think of other options, but a wave of dizziness washed over him, making Leo duck his head and close his eyes to stop himself from throwing up. 

“Why don’t we show the bebê who’s in charge around here?” Leo heard who he thought was Marcelo say.  

If the two others responded, Leo didn’t hear it, to lost in his own misery to pay attention to them. However, he was abruptly ripped from his own little bubble by someone pushing him over onto his stomach. Before Leo could react, he felt a heavy weight settle on his upper back. Panicked, the brunet tried to reach around to grab ahold of whoever or whatever was on top of him, but someone grabbed his wrist and pinned it down.  

His panicked mind cleared up a bit, and he could make out Pepe holding his wrist. The Brazilian was putting an unnecessarily amount of pressure on Leo’s small wrist, which would definitely result in an ugly bruise. Twisting his head, Leo could also make out Ronaldo, who had a knee pressed into Leo’s upper back, effectively keeping him trapped. Ronaldo had also managed to trap Leo’s other arm between the two of them, rendering the Argentinian helpless. 

Leo couldn’t see Marcelo, the man being hidden behind Ronaldo, something that worried the smaller. Though, before he could think too much about the missing man, Leo felt his t-shirt being lifted. The Argentinian could feel the summer air blow lightly over his lower back, before it was replaced with pain. 

Leo could not stop the hiss of pain as he felt something cold and sharp slide over his back. The hiss quickly turned into a scream when the pain amplified. The small boy could not focus on anything but the burning pain. He tried to wiggle away, but Pepe and Ronaldo held him in place. All he could do was try to block out the pain, try to focus on something else. The brunet had no idea how long he laid there, no idea what Marcelo had done. One moment he was lost in the pain, and the next said pain turned from an excruciating burning to a tolerable stinging.  

“There, that should be good enough,” someone above him said, “don’t you think so Chris?”. 

“Yeah, I think that gets the message across,” somebody else, probably Ronaldo, said. 

Leo had gone still the moment the pain had subsided. The Argentinian had tears streaming down his face, but at the moment he could care less. As he slowly came back to his senses, Leo could feel that Pepe had now let go of him. The Brazilian must have deemed him harmless, or maybe he thinks Leo had given up fighting. Whatever it was Leo could definitely use this to his advantage. 

Trying to ignore the pain in his back, Leo let himself go completely limp. He hoped the trio would think he had given up fighting, scratch that, he needed them to think that. Luckily for him, it seemed to work as Ronaldo relived some of the pressure he had on Leo’s upper back. The Portuguese man even shifted a bit, probably to make himself more comfortable, which meant Leo could more feely move his other arm. Slowly, Leo maneuvered both his arms closer, palms pressed to the ground. 

The three madridistas was once again bickering about something, but Leo paid them no mind. Taking a deep breath, the brunet braced himself before pushing himself up as hard and fast as he could. To Leo’s delight, and slight surprise, this caught his attackers off guard, and the Argentinian managed to push Ronaldo off himself. Said man fell backwards in shock, landing on his ass. Before anyone from the trio could react, Leo had gotten to his feet and started sprinting in the direction of the trees. 

Leo had no idea where he was going, fueled by pure adrenaline and fear of being caught. He could hear the madridistas behind him, but Leo knew he was faster than them. However, a wave of pain reminded him that he was in fact injured, and that he had no way of outrunning anyone in this condition. The brunet knew that the adrenaline would run out long before he could escape, not only that, but the way out of the park was in the opposite direction of where he was running to. So, he did the next logical thing to do, heading straight for the first climbable tree he could see. 

It turned out to be a huge oak on the outskirts of the field. The lowest branch was a few meters above the ground. Too high for most people to reach, which made the branch way too high for Leo, but the Argentinian somehow managed to run up a bit of the trunk and jump to grab ahold of it. Leo could honestly not recall how he managed it, but it must have been a combination of adrenalin, panic and his speed. Whatever it was, he was just happy to get away from the other group. 

Leo had managed to climb up a few branches when his pursuers caught up. The three of them stopped at the bottom of the tree, just watching as Leo climbed even higher. The Argentinian reached a point where the trunk split into three big branches and settle himself there. That way he could watch the madridistas, keep an eye on the field in case someone showed up and the branches would keep him from falling, since they were big enough for him to lean against. Leo could feel the adrenalin slowly leave his body, the pain and dizziness returning.   

Glancing down, he could see Marcelo and Ronaldo trying to lift up Pepe, so the man could reach the lowest branch. Leo realized that he had to stop the man from climbing up, afraid he would drag the smaller back down, or worse just push him out of the tree. Quickly taking a look around, Leo noticed a few sizable acorns right by him, and grabbed a handful. 

Down below Pepe had managed to grab ahold of the branch and was in the middle of hoisting himself up. Leo took aim, and whit surprising accuracy and strength managed to hit Pepe square in the forehead. The Brazilian flinched back in surprise, sending him soaring off the branch. He ended up flat on his back quite ungracefully, a tiny red mark appearing on his forehead.  

Leo couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of his mouth at the look of shock on Pepe’s face. The other two down on the ground seemed to agree, since they both burst out laughing, Marcelo even had to support himself on the tree. The only one who did not find the situation humorous was the man still sprawled on the ground. Pepe and Leo locked eyes, and the latter immediately stopped giggling once he saw the hatred in the former’s eyes.  

“Oh, you think this is funny, filho da puta?” Pepe shouted up to Leo, swiftly getting up and grabbing a stone from the ground, “you’re not the only one who can throw things!”. 

With that the Brazilian flung the stone as hard as he could towards Leo, who barely managed to move away. Sadly, the stone still hit him, grazing the right side of his head. Luckily, it only left a small cut by his eyebrow, instead of fracturing his whole face. The Argentinian ducked behind one of the large branches, just in case the trio decided to have target practice on him.  

Down on the ground, the madridistas had started shouting taunting words to him, but Leo’s attention was elsewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen something move down on the field. Taking a better look, it turned out to be three people he knew quite well. Leo felt hope blossom in his chest as he could make out Xavi, Andrés and Busquets.  

The three blaugranes were turned with their backs to Leo, but the Argentinian knew that it was them. Andrés bent down to pick up something, and Leo realized it was his football. The trio was looking around, clearly looking for the missing Argentinian, but Leo doubted they would see him up in the tree. However, if he could get their attention towards the tree, they would most likely notice the three madridistas down below. So, Leo did the most logical thing, opened his mouth, and with all the power he could muster shouted as loud as he could: 

“XAVI!”. 

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This was not the way Xavi had thought the day would start. Not only had he been on edge since the brawl a couple days ago, but he had been abruptly awoken by David bursting through his door. Xavi had been too tired to fully understand everything David was saying, he only caught three words: 

“Leo is gone”. 

It was enough to make the Spaniard jump out of bed and follow the other man downstairs, barley remembering to put on some shorts and a t-shirt. There, around the kitchen island, stood Pep, Andrés, Sergio and Zlatan. The group seemed to be looking at a piece of paper and talking seriously amongst themself. When David and Xavi walked into the kitchen, they stilled and looked up. 

“What’s going on?” Xavi asked, walking to stand beside Andrés. 

“Leo snuck out”, Sergio responded, pointing to the paper on the island. 

The shorter reached over and picked the piece up, reading the hasty scribble. It was clearly Leo’s handwriting, and the note itself was quite simple: 

‘Gone to our park’. 

If the situation had been different, Xavi would have smiled at the way Leo described it as “our park”, knowing the boy loved when they all went there. Setting the paper down on the island, the Spaniard looked back up to their boss. Pep seemed to be deep in thought, seemingly trying to stare a hole in the island in front of him.  

“So, what do we do now?” Zlatan asked, also looking over at Pep. 

Before the man could answer a loud bang could be heard from upstairs, closely followed by two pairs of feet storming towards the kitchen. Seconds later both Gerard and Cesc tumbled through the doorway, somehow stopping themself to fall over each other in their rush. Both of the youngsters looked panicked around the room, clearly searching for their missing friend. 

“Where’s Leo?” Cesc demanded, “is he okay?”. 

“What has happened?” Gerard asked at the same time. 

“Calm down”, Puyol said, coming up behind the panicked duo, “freaking out is not going to help anyone”. 

Gerard opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it when he noticed the glare Puyol sent him. Instead, the two youngsters turned to Pep with pleading eyes, wanting to know what was happening. Pep must have realized that everyone was waiting on him, because he suddenly looked up with determination in his eyes. 

“As far as we know, nothing has happened, and Leo is fine. He snuck out, probably to play football, and lost track of time,” Pep reasoned, “we have no idea when he left, for all we know it has only been a couple of minutes”. 

“Wait, Leo snuck out?” Cesc questioned, a short laugh escaping him, “OUR Leo? The same kid we protected from bigger kids at the orphanage? The same kid who barley spoke the first month we knew him?”. 

“Believe me, we are all surprised”, David said, “more surprised it wasn’t one of you two actually”. 

Both Cesc and Gerard let out a sound of offence, but neither said anything, knowing the older was right. The two of them were known for their antics, more often than not dragging Leo along with them. 

“Enough of that, we need to focus on the problem at hand,” Pep said, putting on his so called ‘boss-voice’, “Hernández, Iniesta and Busquets, I need you three to go to the park and see if you can find Leo”. 

The three of them looked at each other, before nodding. They were used to working together, they knew that they could trust each other to do what needed to be done. Pep knew this as well, probably why he trusted them with this.  

“I want to go to!” Gerard piped up, Cesc nodding beside him, indicating he wanted to go as well. 

“No, you are to stay here,” Pep answered sternly. 

“But-” 

“I said no. It is bad enough that Leo is out there when he knows he isn’t allowed, I do not need the two of you running around where there could be potential danger as well. Worrying about Leo will already take a couple of years of my life, if something happened to the two of you as well, I might end up dying on the spot. Besides, we do not know if Leo is unharmed or not, I don’t want you two to do anything irrational out of anger”. 

The last sentence seemed to drape a somber blanket over the room, everyone knowing the horrors their life could bring. Especially with the strained relationship between them and Real Madrid. Xavi clenched his fists thinking about the horrible madridistas putting their hands on Leo.  

“What if he’s not there?” Cesc asked quietly, curling into himself in a way Xavi had rarely seen the younger do. 

Puyol was quick to put his hand on the younger’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Everyone knew how close the young trio was, and how protective the older two felt over the little Argentinian. The three of them having grown up together at La Masia, the orphanage where Barcelona had found them.  

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Leo is fine,” Puyol said, “and if he is not, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. No need to get worked up over nothing”. 

That was how Xavi ended up walking between Andrés and Sergio down towards the park. The three of them had promised to be careful, and to come straight back, hopefully with Leo. Xavi was worried about the young boy, but kept calm until he had a reason to freak out. As far as they knew, the small brunet was just playing football in the park, perfectly fine.  

“When we find him, I’m not letting him out of my sight ever again,” Xavi muttered. 

“Agreed,” Andrés said, “grounded for a month with imposed guard 24/7”. 

“With the exception of Piqué and Fábergas”. 

“Obviously, those two are bad influence and cannot be trusted to keep Leo out of trouble”. 

“Don’t you think you two are overreacting a bit now?” Sergio asked, looking between the two shorter men. 

“Don’t act like you don’t want to wrap him up in bubble wrap and lock him in his room,” Xavi smirked. 

Sergio just shook his head at the two of them but didn’t disagree. The three of them quieted down as they approached the entrance to the park. They knew that Leo was most likely towards the back, where they all would go when they went out. Making their way back, the trio couldn’t help the uneasy feeling bubbling within them. 

As they approached the open field, Xavi could feel the panic slowly rise as he looked around but didn’t see the small Argentinian anywhere. Andrés and Sergio must have felt the same, because the former started to walk faster, looking around more franticly.  

“Maybe he’s in the bathrooms?” Sergio said, but he didn’t sound convinced himself. 

The trio quickly made their way over to the small building, but before they could step inside something caught Andrés’ attention. The Spaniard hurried over and bent down to pick up the item. Xavi felt his blood go cold as he realized it was Leo’s football. Ever since the small boy got the ball, he made sure to never leave it behind. It was probably one of Leo’s most treasured possessions. 

“If this is here, Leo can’t be far away,” Xavi said, once again looking around for the brunet. 

Andrés stood up, still with the ball in his hands, and started to look behind the building. Sergio had also started to look around again, staring to slowly walk back to where they came from, just in case they missed anything. Xavi was about to step inside the building when he heard it: 

“XAVI!”. 

Without even thinking about the possibilities of danger, Xavi took off running towards the edge of the field, where he had heard the voice. The voice he knew belonged to Leo, the voice who sounded desperate, panicked and worst of all hurt. The Spaniard could hear both Andrés and Sergio behind him, both having heard the same thing. As they approached the threes, they could make out voices that didn’t belong to their Argentinian.   

“Listen to that, the baby is crying out for his mama,” someone laughed. 

“They can’t help you now, pequeno!” another one shouted. 

Xavi felt his blood boil as he finally noticed the three men who stood at the bottom of the tree. They were looking upwards, not noticing the quickly approaching blaugranas. Xavi glanced up at whatever the trio were looking at, and noticed Leo huddled behind a huge branch. The small boy locked eyes with Xavi, and the Spaniard felt his heart break at the look in Leo’s eyes. The brunet looked scared and hurt, but most of all he looked relieved. Xavi grit his teeth as he looked back towards his target. How dare these men hurt their Leo! How dare them scare the small boy this bad. 

Before the madridistas could fully grasp the situation, the three blaugranas had burst through the shrubbery, Xavi being the first one through, going straight for the closest target. The Spaniard wasted no time and sent Marcelo flying with one powerful punch. The Brazilian had no time to react before Xavi was on top of him, landing another punch to his face, before leaning back and keeping the man pinned beneath him.  

The two other madridistas had by now shaken off their shock. Pepe went to attack Xavi, but Sergio was faster and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, slamming him into the trunk of the tree. The Brazilian was too caught off guard to react, and the glare Sergio sent his way was enough to keep him from fighting, letting the Spaniard keep him in place. It wasn’t often Sergio was mad, so when he became angry everyone knew to stay away or listen to him. 

When Xavi had jumped Marcelo, the latter had dropped something, and Andrés bent down to pick it up. The blaugrana felt his rage grow when he saw what the item was. It was a small silver knife, with something red slowly dripping down from the tip. Andrés gripped the handle of the knife harder, sending a cold glare down to the man on the ground, before turning his glare to the last madridista.  

Ronaldo had not moved from where he stood, panicked eyes fleeting between his two friends. It was clear he wanted to step in to help, but the Portuguese must also have realized they were out powered, so he stayed put. However, Andrés didn’t trust the man, so he kept a close watch on him, in case he suddenly decided to attack. 

“You’re on the wrong side of town, compañero,” Xavi said darkly, staring down at Marcelo pinned beneath him. 

Said man only stared back, eyes wide in fear. His lip was slowly bleeding, and Xavi knew the man would wake up with dark bruises tomorrow. The thought made the Spaniard smile, not feeling any regret, knowing the man under him deserved all the pain for what he had done to Leo. 

“Care to tell me why you think it is okay for you to impose on our territory?”. 

“W-we didn’t m-mean t–” Marcelo began to stutter out but was swiftly cut off by Xavi. 

“Actually, more importantly,” he started, “why should we let you leave here alive? After all, you jumped our boy, on our turf”. 

Marcelo was now clearly panicking, trying to wiggle free from Xavi. However, the latter did not let up, keeping the Brazilian pinned to the ground with a knee buried in his chest. The sound of a slight struggle could be heard by the tree, and Sergio had to grip Pepe’s collard harder. In the end the Brazilian ended up having to stand on his toes as not to be choked by his shirt. Ronaldo went to step forward, but Andrés sent him a warningly glare, still with the knife in his hand. The Portuguese gritted his teeth but remained where he stood. 

“What’s wrong, lost your voice?” Xavi asked, clearly enjoying the scared madridistas, “I was really looking forward to you explanation”. 

“Okay, you’ve had your fun, Xavi,” Sergio said, “but we have more important things to take care of”. 

As if on cue a small whimper of pain could be heard from the tree. Xavi cursed at himself quietly, how could he waste precious time toying with worthless trash like this? Especially when he knew Leo was hurt and needed him. The Spaniard got off Marcelo, letting the man scrabble backwards towards Ronaldo. The latter helped the Brazilian up, before turning their gaze to Pepe.  

“If we ever catch you three even looking at Leo, we’ll make sure you wish we had ended you here,” Sergio growled, looking straight at Pepe, “do you understand?”. 

Pepe quickly nodded, which seemed to satisfy Sergio. The Spaniard let go of the other’s shirt, and the Brazilian stumbled over to the two madridistas. The three of them didn’t waste any more time, turning around and sprinting away from the angry blaugranas.  

The remaining trio stood a second in silence, all three breathing heavily and trying to calm themselves down. The silence was suddenly filled with another whimper of pain, and three heads turned to look at the small brunet still in the tree. Leo was almost fully hidden behind the branch, but the three Spaniards could see his eyes shut tightly in pain. 

“Leo, it’s safe to come down now,” Andrés said. 

However, the Argentinian only shook his head, not opening his eyes. The three on the ground looked at each other inn worry, something was clearly wrong with the small boy.  

“What’s wrong niño?” Sergio asked carefully. 

“Dizzy,” Leo answered quietly, clinging tightly to the branch. 

“Okay,” Sergio said, “I’m coming up to help you, just stay putt, it’s going to be alright pequeño campeón”. 

Xavi and Andrés had to help lift Sergio up so he could reach the first branch. From there they could only watch as the tall man made his way up to where Leo was seated. Sergio climbed as fast as he could, anxious to reach the little Argentinian and survey the damage those bastards for Real had done.  

With one last pull the older came face to face with the smaller, who had kept his eyes shut this whole time. Sergio couldn’t help himself and reached out to carefully cup Leo’s cheek. The brunet flinched slightly away, making Sergio’s heart break even more. However, Leo realized quickly that it was Sergio in front of him, and all but nuzzled into the hand. The Spaniard let a thumb stroke slowly over Leo’s left cheek, mindful of the red mark that was sure to turn into a bruise tomorrow.  

“Oh, chiquito,” Sergio said quietly, “it’s alright, you’re safe now”. 

Finally, Leo opened his eyes, light brown meeting almost black. Sergio could see tears glistening in the smaller one’s eyes, making him reach forward and wrap Leo in a one-armed hug. It was an awkward position, the tree branch digging into his side. However, it seemed to put Leo more at ease, which made the uncomfortable position worth every second. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo mumbled into Sergio’s neck, but the older just shushed him. 

“None of that now,” he said, “first we need to get you back home and patched up. After that we’ll talk, but as of right now our first priority is making sure you are safe”. 

Leo only nodded, before pulling away from the hug, which gave Sergio an opportunity to fully look him over. The more he looked, the more Sergio saw, the angrier he got. Not only the marks on the Argentinian’s face, but Sergio could also make out a dark red mark round his wrist, looking awfully close to a handprint. Leo was also holding his ribs, clearly having more injuries beneath his clothes. 

“Do you think you can climb down if I guide you?” Sergio asked 

“I... I think so,” Leo answered after a couple of seconds. 

When Leo turned around to carefully start to climb down, Sergio had to stop himself from cursing out loud. Instead, he reached out and slowly placed his hand on Leo’s lower back, making the small brunet freeze. He knew the madridistas had done something to his back, but the pain had gone back to a dull throbbing, so he hadn’t really thought to much about it. At least not until now.  

Sergio had placed his hand right beside a small, wet, red spot on the brunet's lower back. The blood had stained the light blue shirt Leo wore, painting it in a deep maroon red. Luckily, it seemed that the wound was neither deep nor big, and had mostly stopped bleeding by now. However, Sergio was still concerned, and the need to get Leo back home as fast as possible just grew.  

“Is it bad?” a quiet voice snapped Sergio out of his thoughts, and his attention turned back to the Argentinian above him. 

“No Chico,” Sergio tried to console the younger, “it’s not that bad, but Puyol still needs to take a look at it, along with any other injuries you have”. 

Leo only sighed, knowing there was no escaping the second in command, especially when it came to his health and wellbeing. Puyol had somehow turned into their mock nurse, always taking care of their injuries and patching them up. There were of course times where they had to visit the hospital, but luckily those trips were few and far between. Most of the time the injuries were non-critical, and the Spaniard could easily path them back together.  

The two of them slowly made their way down the tree, with Sergio guiding Leo the whole way. When they reached the lower branches, Sergio let Leo pass him so he could jump down first. Both Xavi and Andrés stood ready to catch the small brunet. The two Spaniards ended up having to fully catching Leo as he dropped down, making the younger hiss out in pain. 

“Sorry,” Andrés mumbled, placing a kiss on Leo’s head. 

The Argentinian didn’t answer, only clinging close to the two men, burying his head in Andrés’ neck. Sergio had also jumped down, landing with a soft thud behind the three of them. However, as they went to hurry back home it was clear that Leo wasn’t able to keep up with their pace on his own. After the third stumble, Sergio easily swept Leo of his feet, gathering the boy up in his arms.

They ended up jogging back. Leo was held securely in Sergio’s arms, the latter being mindful of the younger’s injuries and trying to not move him too much. Somewhere along the way, Leo had reached out and grasped Xavi’s hand tightly. The Spaniard had tried to send reassuringly squeezes to the brunet whenever he would whimper or groan in pain. Luckily, the way back went by fast, and before they knew it, they were back home. 

The atmosphere in the house was tense, but its inhabitants tried their best to go about their day as normally as they could. Pep and Puyol had retreated to the former's office, probably to further discuss the situation with Real Madrid. Cesc and Gerard were playing FIFA, with David acting as their commentator. Ronaldinho and Zlatan were seated by the kitchen island, watching the loud trio in amusement. The Brazilian was absentmindedly fiddling with the piece of paper Leo had left behind, obviously worried, but trying to put on a brave face for the younger ones. 

A shout from the couch made him look over, where both Cesc and David were laughing loudly. The latter went to say something, probably to rile Gerard up even more, but whatever he had planned to say was cut off by the front door slamming open. The loud sound made both Cesc and Gerard drop their controllers in shock, and Zlatan jumped up to assess the potential threat.  

However, the swede, along with everyone else, froze at the sight that came through the door. First was Andrés, who didn’t acknowledge anyone as he ran full speed towards Pep’s office. Behind him was Sergio and Xavi, who both beelined to the infirmary. The thing that caught everyone’s attention, and made them freeze in the first place, was the curled-up figure of Leo still in Sergio’s arms. Nobody moved a muscle as the tree of them disappeared down the hall, and the silence was only broken by a quiet voice: 

“Was Leo bleeding?”. 

Cesc’s question had sent the rest of them into motion. Wasting no more time they all ran to follow the tree men who had run through. David was the first to stumble through the door to the infirmary, closely followed by Cesc and Gerard. The two younger boys practically fell through the door in their hurry, the thought of Leo being hurt was the only thing they could think about. 

Sergio had placed Leo on one of the beds in the room, where the Argentinian was now cuddled into Xavi’s side, still refusing to let go of his hand. Even though the younger had hidden his face into the Spaniard’s neck, everyone in the room could see the wound on the right side of his face. The small wound had stopped bleeding, but it still made Cesc’s blood boil at the thought that someone had done this to their Leo. 

By now, both Zlatan and Ronaldinho had also made their way into the room, the latter immediately running up to check on Leo. The Brazilian was careful as he brushed some hair out of the Argentinian’s face, getting a better look at the boy he saw as his younger brother. Leo opened his eyes and looked back at Ronaldinho, and the older could see the pain and unshed tears in his eyes.  

“Oh, mi pequeño león,” he whispered. 

Leo made no effort to answer him with words but reached out with his unoccupied hand to grab ahold of the Brazilian's hand.  The Argentinian squeezed the hand to show his appreciation, before going back to hide himself in Xavi’s side. Ronaldinho understood the gesture perfectly fine, knowing the younger sometimes found it difficult to express himself and say exactly what he wanted. He squeezed back before letting go and going over to the wall by the door, surveying the room like a guard.  

Both Gerard and Cesc had taken a seat on the bed opposite of where Leo and Xavi sat, keeping a close eye on their small friend. They wanted to go over to the brunet, to hug him, to make sure he was fine, to protect him from the world. But right now, they both understood that doing so would only make things worse, that it would overwhelm the young boy. Instead, they started to talk quietly to Leo. They didn’t expect him to respond, but they didn’t want him to feel ignored or worse, that he started to zone out and escape into his own little world. That usually ended with him overthinking every little thing, somehow giving himself the blame for things that he could not control. 

“Playing Gerard is too easy; I need you here to actually have a challenger”. 

“Don’t listen to him, he was barely beating me, besides he was obviously cheating”. 

“Was not, I am just better”. 

“Don’t be delusional”. 

The two of them continued to playfully bicker back and forth, still keeping quiet enough to not disturb the conversation the others were having. Sergio and Xavi had started to explain what had happened to the others, but Cesc and Gerard were to focused Leo to really pay attention. Besides, they could get David to fill them inn later. Their banter continued from games to football to other random topics, and it was all worth it when they could see a small smile make its way onto Leo’s lips. However, their squabbling was cut off by three pairs of footsteps making their way towards the infirmary, before Pep, Andrés and Puyol appeared through the door. 

When they had found out that Leo had snuck out, Pep was worried, of course he was. However, he was also angry that the boy had defied his orders. Which is why he and Puyol had evacuated to his office when Xavi, Andrés and Sergio went out. His second in command was trying, and surprisingly enough succeeding, to calm him down.  

“You know our three youngsters have been restless even since you disallowed them to go outside,” he reasoned, “besides, it’s Leo, that kid has never done anything bad before. Him doing this one thing doesn’t mean he will turn into a rebel and abandon us all to go to the dark side or whatever you’re thinking about”. 

“I know that!” Pep exclaimed, “But he still went against direct orders, not to mention putting himself in danger!”. 

“Have you considered that Leo didn’t know the exact extent of this danger? I mean, nobody told him why he wasn’t allowed to leave, just that he couldn’t”. 

“If he knew that those madridistas threaten to target him, Pique and Fàbregas he might freak out,” Pep argued. 

“Or maybe, just maybe, he would have understood the seriousness in the situation,” Puyol retorted, “I know you care about him, we all do, but he’s not the same scared kid we picked up from La Masia. He just turned 20, I hate to say it but he’s a full-grown adult now”. 

“Let’s not go overboard here, he’s not a full-grown adult,” Pep chuckled, “but I see what you mean. I guess I was too hung up on trying to protect him that I put him in more danger”. 

“We all were,” Puyol said, placing a reassuring hand on Pep’s shoulder. 

Before they could discuss the topic any further, the two men heard frantic footsteps make their way towards the office. The dark door was flung open, loudly slamming into the wall, and there in the doorway stood Andrés. The Spaniard was breathing heavily, one hand clutching the doorframe. Both Pep and Puyol stared at the man in confusion and worry. Something must have happened for the usually calm man to act this frantic. Finally, after a few seconds of catching his breath, Andrés looked up and managed to get out one sentence: 

“Puyol, you need to get to the infirmary,” he wheezed, “Leo is hurt”. 

It was like those three last words sent an electric shock through the two men, because one second, they were staring at Andrés in shock, and the next they were sprinting down the stairs towards the infirmary. Andrés was leading the charge and was therefore the first one through the infirmary door. Puyol was the next, with Pep close behind. The latter stopped in the doorway to take in the sight before him. 

His eyes landed on Leo, who was still half hiding half cuddling into Xavi’s side. The young boy was clutching the elder’s hand tightly, and Pep could see Xavi caressing the smaller one’s hand with his own. Everyone else had stopped their conversations as soon as the trio came through the door and were now focused on Pep. The bald man realized they were waiting on him to say something. 

“Puyol, I need you to take a look at Leo and find out the extent of his injuries,” he started, before turning to the others in the room, “the rest of you can wait elsewhere”. 

“What, no way,” Cesc exclaimed, standing up, “we want, no we need to be here for Leo!”. 

Beside him Gerard nodded but remained sitting. Pep only shook his head at their stubbornness. He knew the two of them meant well, but he was also afraid of how they would react to the Argentinians wounds, especially since he himself had no idea how hurt the Argentinian really was. The same went for the rest of the room, especially Ronaldinho and David, both having taken Leo inn as their little brother. Looking over at the two of them, Pep could see the same defiance in their eyes.  

“I understand that I really do,” he said, looking from one person to another, “however, right now you are more overwhelming than helpful”. 

Pep explained, pointing to Leo, who had yet to look up at any of them. The small boy hated to make them worry, preferring to hide away his pain instead of asking for help. Being the center of attention, especially when that attention consisted of worried glances and pity, was something he wasn’t good at. 

“Let Puyol check him out, treat his wounds and let Leo rest a bit. I know you are all angry, understandably so, but doing something rash out of anger will only lead to more pain,” Pep said sternly, “we’ll have a talk later, but right now the priority is making sure our little Argentinian is safe”. 

The nickname made several off the men in the room smile, along with making said Argentinian blush and hiding even further in Xavi’s neck. It seemed that Pep’s word managed to convince them, because David, Ronaldinho and Zlatan all retreated out of the room. Andrés followed close behind, but not before going over and ruffling Leo’s hair slightly. 

“Stay strong, pequeño campeón,” he smiled down at the smaller boy. 

With that he joined Sergio in walking out as well. However, both Cesc and Gerard still seemed a bit unsure, not wanting to leave their friend alone. Puyol made his way over to the boys, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, and leant down to whisper something to them. It was quiet enough that nobody else heard it, but whatever he said must have helped, since the two young boys smiled at each other before running out. 

That only left Pep, Puyol, Xavi and Leo in the room. Xavi made a move to try to pry Leo off of him, but the smaller man refused to let go of him, clutching his hand even tighter. The Spaniard turned to shoot Pep and Puyol a pleading look, unsure if they would allow him there after throwing out the rest of the gang. 

“I don’t think I can leave,” he started, trying to move but earning himself a whine from the boy beside him. 

“Yeah, I guessed as much,” Pep smiled, “I didn’t expect you to do so either”. 

Xavi smiled back, before giving Leo’s hand a reassuring squeeze, signaling to the brunet that he wasn't going anywhere. Puyol had been moving around the room while the conversation was happening, now returning back with a first aid kit. He moved to stand in front of Leo, before turning to Xavi and asking: 

“Can you give me a brief summary of his injuries, at least the ones you know about?”. 

“Yeah,” Xavi said, “let’s see. Bleeding from his lower back, red marks on his face and wrist, a cut by his right eye, he keeps holding his ribs and complained about dizziness. That’s about it I think, at least that’s what I know about”. 

Puyol only nodded at the information, face remaining neutral. That was also one of the reasons he was given the role as a mock nurse, he didn’t let his emotions show while treating their injuries. He managed to keep calm and properly treat them, not letting his emotions run wild like several others in their little group. The long-haired man carefully lifted Leo’s head from Xavi’s shoulder, urging the smaller to open his eyes. 

“Hey niño, can you open your eyes for me,” he said carefully, “I just need to see them for a second”. 

Leo complied, slowly opening his eyes. Blue eyes met dark brown almost black ones, the latter having traces of unshed teras and pain in them. Puyol only stroked Leo’s cheek with the hand still holding his face, looking into his eyes for any sign of something being wrong. The Spaniard became a bit worried as he noticed that the younger’s eyes were a bit dilated, not much, but enough that he needed to ask: 

“Leo, did you hit your head?”. 

“Mhm,” Leo mumbled, “pushed into a brick wall”. 

Both Pep and Xavi looked at each other in shock and anger, but remained silent as Puyol continued his examination. The Spaniard was tilting Leo’s head to look at the cut on his right side, before looking at the mark on his left side.  

“Where on the head did you get hit chico?” he asked. 

 “Back”. 

Puyol nodded at the answer, before letting go of Leo’s face. The Argentinian went back to leaning his head against Xavi’s shoulder, bud didn’t hide his face anymore, only closing his eyes. The three men took it as a positive sign that the smaller was starting to feel better already.  

“I’m going to lift your shirt a bit, is that okay niño?” Puyol asked, receiving only a nod in response. 

With that permission, Puyol lifted the front of Leo’s shirt to inspect his ribs. The brunet’s right side was red after the kick. Puyol carefully reached out to prod at the injured ribs, receiving a hiss of pain from Leo. The Spaniard apologized, but he needed to check for potential broken bones. Luckily, none of the ribs seemed broken, so Puyol let the shirt fall back down. 

Moving on, the man grabbed Leo’s injured hand. The wrist was irritatingly red, a clear handprint having formed around it. Puyol carefully tested its movement, bending it backwards and forwards to check for broken bones or other injuries that would hinder the movement. Leo only winced at this, so Puyol deemed it to only be a bruise and no other big injury. He placed the smaller one’s hand back before moving around the bed and behind both Leo and Xavi. 

The long-haired man stopped at the sight of the small patch of blood on Leo’s lower back, before shaking his head and focusing back on the task at hand. He could be angry later, but right now Leo needed him to keep his cool.  

“I’m sorry niño,” Puyol said, “but I need you to lift your head again, just for a few seconds. Then you can go back to cuddling Xavi”. 

Puyol could see blush spread its way down Leo’s neck and over his ears, but the younger boy complied and lifted his head.  The Spaniard was quick, but careful, in examining the back of the brunet’s head. Finding nothing but a small bump, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Puyol patted Leo’s head carefully, indicating that he was done. The smaller quickly went back to leaning against Xavi. 

Turning to, hopefully, the last of Leo’s injures, Puyol slowly lifted up the back of the younger’s shirt. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped, at least for the most part, but the Spaniard couldn’t properly see the wound beneath the dried blood. Fetching some wet paper, he attentively wiped it away. However, as the wound came into view, Puyol had to hold back the rage that build up inside him. There, cut into Leo’s lower back, were two simple letters: 

‘RM’. 

Puyol must have been staring to long, cause Xavi looked back at him with concern in his eyes. The long-haired man gave him a short nod, before turning towards Pep and motioning for the man to come over and see. The older walked over, and Puyol could see the exact moment his eyes fell on Leo’s lower back. Pep’s fists clenched at his sides and his jaw tightened. The bald man took a deep breath, before turning to look at Puyol. 

“Give me a rundown of his injuries”. 

“Mild concussion, bruised ribs, face and wrist, minor cut by his right eye and...” he hesitated slightly, looking over at Xavi and Leo, before continuing, “and the cuts on his lower back. None of the injuries need to be sown, just cleaned and covered”. 

“Start cleaning the wounds, but do not cover them yet,” Pep commanded, “I’ll be right back”. 

With that he turned and marched right out of the infirmary. Puyol and Xavi shared a quick look of confusion but knew better than to question Pep’s orders. The former started to carefully clean Leo’s injuries, starting on his back before moving on to his face. Whenever the Argentinian would let out a whimper or hiss of pain, the Spaniard would mumble out an apology. He also made sure that Leo wasn’t hiding any other injuries, happy when he found none.  

“How bad is his cut back there?” Xavi asked, breaking the silence. 

“Cuts,” Puyol corrected, “not deep enough to need stiches, but it will leave a small scar. Which is probably what those hijos de puta wanted”. 

Xavi looked shocked at his outburst, not expecting him to growl out something like that, especially not while in “doctor mode” as they often called it. Whatever had happened to Leo, Xavi knew it must have been bad for Puyol to react in such a way. However, before he could ask further, Pep strode back in with a camera in hand. 

“Leo, ninõ,” Pep said carefully, making said boy turn to look at him, “I’m going to take a few pictures of your injuries, is that okay?”. 

Leo didn’t really understand why Pep would want those pictures, but was too tired to really ask, so he only nodded in response. The next few minutes were spent in silence, except for the clicking of pictures being taken. After Pep was done, he turned to Puyol and said: 

“You can patch him up now. I’m going to my office for a bit, but I want everyone to meet in the living room in half an hour,” Pep hesitated by the doorway, looking over at Leo, before adding, “with the exception of Leo, Cesc and Gerard”. 

After he received a quick nod from both Xavi and Puyol, Pep made his way out of the infirmary once again. The remaining people stood in silence a couple of seconds, before Puyol started to take out different sized bandages for Leo. The older was careful as he bandaged up Leo, finally stepping back as he finished putting a plaster over the cut by Leo’s right eye.  

“There, all finished up,” he said, ruffling Leo’s hair slightly, “you did well pequeño campeón”. 

Puyol could see the blush quickly spreading over the small boy’s face, over his ears and down his neck, but was pleased to see a shy smile on his lips. The Spaniard knew that Leo was already starting to get better, hoping his little mission for Gerard and Cesc would be a success. Speaking of those two, Puyol turned towards the door and called out: 

“You can come in now, I am done”. 

Both Leo and Xavi looked towards him in confusion, before turning to the door as two figures shyly shuffled into view. Cesc and Gerard didn’t even try to put on a guilty expression, too busy trying to check if Leo was okay from where they were standing. 

“Boys,” Puyol sighed, “I said I was done; you can go over to him if you want”. 

The two young boys didn’t waste any time making their way over to Leo, anxious to see how their friend was doing. Cesc was the first to reach Leo, but he was hesitant to touch him, afraid of hurting him further. Gerard seemed to have the same dilemma, looking over at Xavi for help. 

“Here,” Xavi said, patting the place on Leo’s other side, “one of you sit here”. 

Gerard and Cesc shared a look, before the latter walked the short distance and sat down. Usually, the young Spaniard would have thrown his arm around Leo or dragged him into his side, but now he barely sat close enough to touch him. Xavi only shook his head at Cesc’s hesitance, before delicately moving Leo so he was leaning on Cesc instead of him.  

“He’s not going to break because you touch him chico,” Xavi smiled, “you two know how stubborn he can be, someone needs to make sure he doesn't hurt himself further”. 

That seemed to relax the two youngsters, because Cesc finally lifted his hand to affectionately brush his fingers through the hair by Leo’s nape. The Argentinian only relaxed further, snuggling into Cesc neck and practically purring. It made the rest of the room smile, the air seemingly becoming less tense. Gerard had also taken a step closer, now handing something over to Leo. 

“Here, we heard your shirt had gotten dirty and thought you would want something else to wear”. 

Said item of clothing was a hoodie, that both Puyol and Xavi recognized as one of Gerard's favorites. However, they also knew that the three youngsters had their way of consoling each other, sharing clothes was one of them, so they deiced to not say anything. Leo grabbed the hoodie, flashing Gerard a small thankful smile, before sitting up to change. 

As the brunet pulled off his shirt and his bruised ribs came into view, it felt like the temperature in the room fell by several degrees. Both Gerard and Cesc clenched their jaws, but didn’t say anything, no matter how much they wanted to curse out whoever did this to their Leo. Xavi was actually kind of proud of them for holding their tongue, especially knowing how protective they were over the smaller. 

When Leo had fully changed, now drowning in a hoodie many sizes too big, he went back to leaning against Cesc. Xavi could see Gerard looking at the two of them, with a mix of longing and jealousy in his eyes, so the Spaniard offered up his place. Gerard was happy to take his place beside Leo, grabbing the smaller boy’s uninjured hand in his much bigger one. Gerard sent Xavi a thankful look, before turning to look at his two best friends. 

“We managed to convince Andrés to make cookies,” Gerard said. 

“More like used your injuries to guilt trip him into doing it,” Cesc added with a laugh. 

“True, but it wasn’t out fault,” Gerard said, before turning to look at Puyol, “it was a certain second in command who gave us the idea”. 

Xavi turned to give said second in command a questioning look, but Puyol only shrugged. 

“It was the easiest way to get them to leave,” he stated, “besides, I know Leo really likes Andrés’ baking, thought maybe it would cheer him up”. 

“Wow, you have really gone soft for our youngsters,” Xavi couldn't help but tease the other. 

“Says you,” Puyol retorted. 

Xavi only laughed, knowing he was right. Everyone in their gang had developed a soft spot for the trio they had picked up from the orphanage many years ago. It came naturally to protect and dote on them, no matter how much they claimed to despise it. However, the three of them used it to their advantage as well, knowing that everybody had a hard time saying no to them, especially if they got Leo to whip out the puppy dog eyes. 

“And maybe I wanted some as well,” Puyol muttered, making Xavi smirk at him. 

“I knew it!”. 

Both Gerard and Cesc had started to mutter quietly to Leo, having noticed that loud noises just irritated his hurting head. Xavi couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the small brunet was smiling slightly, so it must have been working. However, the Spaniard could also see how tired the Argentinian was, his eyes momentarily closing and fully leaning on Cesc. 

“Why don’t you guys take Leo with you to the burrow, so he can properly rest,” Puyol said, catching the attention of the three youngsters, “he has a mild concussion, so I need someone to stay with him tonight, and you three bunk together often enough that it shouldn’t be a problem”. 

The last part caused all three of the boys to blush, but nobody denied anything, knowing that it was true. How they managed to all fit in the bed remained a mystery, at least until Pep deiced to just get them a bigger bed for when they needed to cuddle. They had converted one of the many spare rooms into what was dubbed ‘the burrow’. Even though most of the time it was used by the three youngest in the group, sometimes the older ones would also need a moment to fully relax. 

“Just be mindful of his injuries, and get someone if something seems wrong, even if it turns out to be nothing it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Puyol instructed them. 

“Yes sir,” the two answered simultaneously, even going as far as saluting Puyol. 

The man only shook his head, used to their antics. Gerard jumped down from the bed, before turning back and helping Leo down as well. Cesc waited until Leo had gotten of him before jumping down beside the small brunet. However, as they went to walk, Leo stumbled over his own feet and into Gerard, who was quick to support his friend.  

“Woah there,” he said, “you good?”. 

Leo was now tightly gripping Gerard’s arm, eyes closed once again as another dizzy spell hit him. He swayed a bit on his feet, grateful for the support of both his best friends when he almost toppled over. He managed a single shake of his head at Gerard’s question, before feeling his feet leave the ground. For a second the Argentinian thought he was falling, letting out a panicked yelp, but it turned out to be Cesc who had scoped him up and was now carrying him bridal style. 

Usually, Leo would have protested at the sudden manhandling, not that he ever really minded, but right now he had no energy. Besides, he was kind of happy that he didn’t need to walk on his own, not sure he would have gotten very far without falling over. So instead, he tucked his head into Cesc’s chest, fully trusting his friend to not drop him.  

“How are you still this easy to carry around?” Cesc asked teasingly, making sure to not touch any of Leo’s injuries. 

“Never mind that, you know he’s always been easy to throw around like a doll,” Gerard laughed, the three of them making their way out of the room, “the more important thing is convincing Andrés to let us eat cookies in the bed”. 

“We’ll just have Leo use his puppy dog eyes, you know he can’t say no to that,” Cesc responded, “especially not now that he’s hurt, that’s just added points”. 

The last thing Xavi and Puyol heard from them was Gerard letting out a surprised laugh, their voices fading out as they walked further down the hall. The two of them shared a smile, shaking their head at the two youngster’s actions, before cleaning up the infirmary. It wasn’t a lot, just a few left over bandages and some paper. When they were done, they decided it was time to assemble the rest of the group, which luckily wasn’t hard since they had either settled in the kitchen, living room or the patio right outside the main door. 

Back in his office, Pep had now printed out the pictures, promptly deleting them from the camera as soon as he was done. He would rather not have to look at the young boy’s wounds, but he needed the proof that it had happened. Settling down in his chair, the bald man reached over and grabbed ahold of the phone on his desk, quickly entering the familiar phone number. The line rang three times before it clicked, and a gruff voice answered: 

“Guardiola, I thought you might call”. 

“Mourinho,” Pep said darkly, “then I suppose you know why I am calling as well?”. 

“I might have heard some things from my boys,” the Portuguese answered, “and I am not happy about the things they have told me”. 

“Then let’s have a proper discussion about it, make sure the truth comes out,” Pep said coldly, knowing the Madrid boys would have spun the story in their favor, “how about in an hour, the café in the middle of town where we usually meet”. 

“Two guys each, no weapons,” Mourinho agreed, “let’s have a normal, civil talk”. 

With that the Portuguese man hung up the phone, leaving Pep in silence. The bald man let out a deep sigh, before gathering the pictures in an envelope and making his way down to the living room. As he walked through the door, he saw that everyone was gathered, except the three youngsters, and engaging in quiet conversation. Most of them had spread out on the sofa, Xavi and Andrés sharing the loveseat and David sitting on the floor by the coffee table. The conversation died down as they noticed Pep in the room. 

“Where’s the boys?” he asked. 

 “Sent them to the burrow,” Puyol answered, “they are most likely camping out there for the rest of the day and tonight, especially since Andrés let them take the cookies with them”. 

Pep turned to said man, raising an eyebrow in question. Andrés was usually quite stern about not eating in bed. He was especially stern about cookies, complaining that it left crumbs everywhere. The younger man only threw his hands up I defeat, almost smacking Xavi in the face. 

“They came into the kitchen with Leo in their arms, I’m not going to force them to eat downstairs!” he exclaimed, “besides, I know how much they needed to get away for a bit”. 

Pep only shook his head, smiling at the hold these boys had over the rest of them. He dropped the envelope on the table, before turning serious once again. The rest of the room noticed this, and the atmosphere turned colder as they all dropped their smiles and focused on their boss.  

“Mourinho and I have agreed on a meeting in an hour to discuss the situation,” Pep started to explain, “I am not sure what he had heard, but I know for a fact that his boys won’t have told him the truth. I need two of you to come with me”. 

David went to stand up, but a Pep held up a hand to stop him. 

“I have already chosen who, so no need to argue. Puyol and Ibrahimovich,” Pep said, turning to the two of them, “you two are to come with me. The rest of you will remain here on standby, so be prepared incase anything goes wrong”. 

Pep could see that several of the men in the room were displeased with his decision, mainly Ronaldinho and David, but they remained quiet. Pep also knew that he needed someone who would remain calm when presented with the pictures of Leo’s injuries, someone who wouldn’t let their emotions take over. Truthfully, when it came to Leo, none of them were a sure choice, since they all would take a bullet for the youngest no questions asked. But Zlatan and Puyol were his best alternatives. 

“We leave in half an hour, so be ready by then,” Pep said, “do not bring any weapons”. 

“None?” David exclaimed, “what if they do it?”. 

“Then Mourinho will reveal himself as a coward, breaking his own promise,” Pep said, “he might be Real Madrid through and through, but even he holds his word”. 

They all split up, most of them going back to what they were doing before. Puyol dragged Sergio aside, giving him instructions to check up on Leo while he was away and what to do in case he got worse. The long-haired man quickly added that the chances of that happening was small, but better to be safe than sorry.  

Half an hour later the three men made their way out the house and started their walk to the deiced meeting place. The café was around 25 minutes away, and they spent the whole way there in silence. As they approached the building, Pep stopped suddenly, causing the other two to stop as well, turning to look at him. 

“Even though I know Mourinho will hold his word, we do not know what else he has planned,” Pep told them, “So keep your guards up and don’t let anything him or his boys say influence or aggravate you. We are here to settle a dispute, not fight, so I need you to stay calm no matter what, especially when I present my evidence”. 

Pep lifted up the envelope as he said the last bit, before handing it over to Zlatan. Puyol nodded understandingly, knowing what the evidence was. Zlatan, however, had no idea about the extent of Leo’s injuries or what Pep had in the envelope, but nodded none the less, taking the offered item. The oldest seemed satisfied and lead the way into the café. The place was mostly empty, except for a barista and an elder couple sitting by the window talking and sharing some pastries. 

Pep nodded to the barista, before making his way to a table in the far back, Zlatan and Puyol close behind him. The two groups would often meet here to discuss problems, the café turning into some sort of place of peace between the two groups. They met often enough that the establishment and employees knew them, and therefore didn’t bother them when they had these meetings. 

Pep and Puyol had taken a seat each by the table, while Zlatan remained leaning against the wall behind them. About a minute or so later the door to the café opened once again, and inn came José Mourinho, closely followed by Sergio Ramos and Christiano Ronaldo. The three of them sat down opposite of Pep and Puyol, Mourinho in the middle of the two younger madridistas. 

“Mourinho,” Pep greeted coldly. 

“Guardiola,” Mourinho answered back just as coldly. 

“Do you want to explain what your boys have told you,” Pep asked, “or do you want to hear the truth?”. 

“That’s brave words from someone who’s guys decided to jump mine while they were out minding their own business,” Mourinho growled, “did they want revenge or something because of last time?”. 

Pep had to hold back the surprise laugh that threatened to come out of him at the sheer bullshit that the other was telling him. The Spaniard could see the satisfied smirk on Ronaldo's face, remembering that he was one of the people who had attacked Leo. Pep wondered for a second how stupid the man was to come here, knowing full and well what he had done. 

“Is that what they told you?” Pep asked, a small smile having formed on his face, “did they fail to mention how far into our territory they were? Or how about the fact that it was actually them who jumped my guys?”. 

Judging by the raised eyebrows on the others face, Pep guessed that the man hadn’t received this information. However, knowing Mourinho, the Portuguese would not trust Pep’s word over his own boy’s. As if on cue, the man opened his mouth to protest, but Pep cut him off. 

“Actually, scratch that, it was not my guys ,” Pep said, the smile dropping from his face instantly, “it wasn’t several of mine, it was only one. Your three guys decided to jump one of mine”. 

Everyone in the room could now see the fury in Pep’s eyes, even Zlatan who stood behind him could feel the anger radiating off his boss. Pep had noticed the smirk slip from Ronaldo’s face, a satisfied feeling settling within him. Beside him, Puyol had leaned back in his chair, donning the smirk previously on the Portuguese’s face. Mourinho, however, didn’t seem too bothered by what Pep had just said. 

“So, it’s your word against mine,” he said, “I have brought someone who was there, while you seem to be lacking that. What could you possibly say to make me believe you over the word of my own?”. 

“There is not so much I can say,” Pep started, “but more so what I can show you”. 

He indicated towards Zlatan, who handed him the envelope that he had kept hidden from the madridistas’ view. Pep opened it and looked inside, before fetching out three pictures. They depicted Leo’s face, wrist and ribs, clearly showing off his injuries. Pep laid the pictures out in front of Mourinho. The three men were all quietly looking over the pictures, Sergio and Mourinho more intrigued, while Ronaldo had turned white as a sheet. 

“How do I know these are recent?” Mourinho asked, lifting his head to look at Pep. 

“The date is clearly at the bottom of the picture,” Pep answered, eyes hard as he maintained eye contact with the other man. 

“And how do I know these injuries are from my boys?” Mourinho argued, “I recognize this as one of your youngest, and there was no mention of him to me”. 

“Ah, another piece of information that was withheld from you,” Pep replied, a bit smugly, “it seems they failed to mention not only what happened, but also who was involved. As of your question to prove it was you boys, well then take a look here”. 

Pep fished out the last picture and laid it out on top of the rest. Said picture clearly showed the ‘RM’ that was etched into Leo’s lower back. A quiet, barely audible growl was heard from behind them, and Pep knew it was Zlatan seeing the picture. The Swede had not yet seen Leo’s injury, and Pep hoped he could hold back his rage. Luckily, it seemed like the tall man managed, but the aura around him grew dangerous, daring anyone in the room to make a wrong move. 

“I see,” Mourinho finally said, having picked up the picture to get a proper look, before putting it down, “it seems like you are telling the truth after all”. 

The man turned to the young Portuguese at his let side, giving him a dangerous look. Ronaldo kept his head down in fear but gave the older a short nod of acknowledgement. This must have satisfied Mourinho, since he turned back to Pep. 

“I assume you wanted some compensations or something. Why else accept this meeting?” he asked, “money, materials, territory?” 

“Honestly, I am feeling a bit generous today, wasn’t planning on asking for anything” Pep started, “but since you are offering, there is that empty lot in the middle of town we have been disagreeing over. Give that to me, and I won’t send my boys out for revenge”. 

The blaugranas could see how Mourinho's jaw tightened, clearly unhappy about the situation. The empty lot Pep mentioned was quite big and would give the owner even more territory and space to use however they wished. However, the Portuguese could also see the danger in refusing, especially considering just who his boys had jumped.  

“Fine,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll retract any claim over that”. 

Both men stood up and shook hands across the table, both squeezing harder than necessary. Pep mentioned for Zlatan and Puyol to follow him, and they made their way towards the door. When they reached the exit, Pep suddenly stopped and turned back around, Zlatan and Puyol parting to give the older man a clear view of the three men still at the table. 

“Just one more thing,” Pep said dangerously, “I don’t want to see your guys on our territory without reason. They have painted a target on their back by attacking Leo, and my boys are always up for target practice”. 

With that, Pep turned back around and exited the café, Zlatan and Puyol close behind him. The three of them walked a couple of minutes in silence, before the two younger locked eyes and started to chuckle. Pep turned to give each of them a questioning look, which just made them laugh harder. Puyol grabbed ahold of Zlatan’s arm to stop himself from toppling over in laughter. After a few minutes the two of them calmed down. 

“I’m sorry,” Puyol began, still catching his breath, “but that’s the cheesiest line I have ever heard”. 

“Wha?!” Pep exclaimed, slightly offended, “it wasn’t cheesy... was it?”. 

“It was,” Zlatan chuckled, “like something straight from a movie”. 

“And my boys are always up for target practice,” Puyol said, trying to make his voice sound like Pep’s. 

This set the two men off in another laughing fit, and Pep couldn't do anything but to shake his head at them. The bald man felt a smile form on his own face, realizing how ridiculous he really had sounded. The rest of the way back home was mostly spent like this, with Zlatan and Puyol taking turns making up more and more bizarre quotes, and Pep watching on in amusement. 

As they made their way inside their home, they were met with almost everyone sitting ready in the living room and kitchen. A nervous energy had filled the room, but it seemed to flow out as the trio came back unharmed. Pep watched on as his boys, with the exception of the three youngest and Sergio, gathered around him to hear the verdict. 

“So, how did it go?” Xavi asked. 

“When are we getting our revenge?” David added. 

“Calm down,” Pep said, lifting his hands to indicate for them to slow down, “we are not going to attack anyone, Mourinho and I ha–”. 

“But they jumped Leo, and we’re just going to let them off the hook?” Ronaldinho exclaimed, David nodding beside him. 

“If you could let me finish,” Pep sent a warning look to the two men, “Mourinho and I have come to an agreement, we get the empty lot in town. Besides, I am sure those who attacked Leo will get their punishment for lying to their boss, he seemed quite unhappy about it”. 

That looked like it satisfied the men in the room. Ronaldinho and David, who were the most agitated, shared a look, before throwing themself back on the couch and continued their game. The rest of the group split up, going back to whatever they were doing before. However, the air was now lighter, and the conversations flowed easier. 

“Is Sergio with the boys?” Puyol asked Andrés. 

“Yeah, he went up about five minutes ago to check on Leo”. 

The long-haired man nodded, before making his way towards the bedrooms. It’ not that he didn’t trust Sergio, if anyone could take care of his boys it would be him, but Puyol needed to check up on the Argentinian himself. Mostly to calm the irrational part of himself that was scared something had happened while he was away. 

As he opened the door to the burrow, he could hear quiet voices within the room. Peaking his head in, Puyol was met with a frankly quite adorable sight. Cesc, Gerard and Leo were all snuggled up on the bed, the latter sandwiched between the two bigger boys. The Argentinian was resting his head on Cesc’s chest fast asleep, with Gerard’s arm slung protectively over them both. Sergio had taken a seat in one of the many beanbags and was quietly talking with the two boys still awake. The three of them turned to the door when they noticed Puyol there. 

“How is he?” Puyol asked, indicating to the smallest boy. 

“Tired,” Sergio answered, “but better”. 

“He fell asleep almost immediately,” Cesc said quietly, stroking a hand through Leo’s hair, “we thought you weren’t supposed to fall asleep with a concussion, but Sergio explained that it was okay, that we just needed to wake him a couple of times to make sure he’s fine”. 

“Since he only suffered a mild concussion, I think it’s fine to let him rest, but I appreciate you guys looking out for him like this,” Puyol said, smiling warmly at the younger boys. 

“I mean, someone has to,” Gerard said, looking down at the sleeping boy, “we have done it most of our lives, so we’re kind of experts when it comes to Leo”. 

The two older men shared a fond look. It always amazed them how close this trio really was, how much they cared for each other and how far they were willing to go to help and protect one another. Puyol decided to settle down on another beanbag, and joined the conversation he had interrupted, contempt with knowing Leo would be just fine. It also gave him an excuse to grab a cookie, after all it was his idea to get Andrés to make them. 

Downstairs, Pep had remained standing when everyone else had moved away, content with just watching his boys. With a small smile he made his way towards his office to finish up some work and throw the pictures into a paper shredder. As he reached the doorway to the hallway, he turned around to give his boys on final look. 

“Just so you know it, if you happened to catch any madridistas where they shouldn’t be, I won’t ask questions as long as they remain alive”. 

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