Chapter Text
Ah, the weekend — everyone's beloved slice of the week! It's that precious time when folks can finally kick off their shoes, sink into the couch, and take a well-deserved break from the grind of work, school, or university. Whether it's a cozy all-day pajama fest, diving into hobbies, or hitting the town with friends, the weekend offers a golden opportunity to stock up on snacks and gear up for those all-important football matches. And this set of matches is definitely worth it.
***
"So what's the schedule?" Jude asks trying to find a comfy spot on the enormous bed, his hands fully occupied with bowls of crisps and popcorn.
"Hmm, hang on a sec, let me just..." Gavi puts all the cans of beer and Cola on the bed next to Jude, takes his phone out of pocket to find the schedule of Saturday matches.
Currently they're in Jude's house even though both their teams have matches this weekend — very important ones actually. But unfortunately or maybe fortunately, they're both suspended. Gavi hit his yellow card limit and has to skip the match against Girona. And Jude? Believe it or not, he's in the same boat — suspended for the same reason, because contrary to popular belief, Gavi isn't the only emotional player in La Liga, not anymore. They both had a good laugh when they found out, and thus a plan was born: "next week's matches are pretty cool, let's watch them together". And to the question why in Jude's house, well because "last time we met at yours."
Pretty simple.
"Oh, found it. So first we have Bayern vs your ex." Jude needs a second to process what he meant, he's not proud of it.
"You mean Der Klassiker?"
Even though he doesn't have good memories from those matches his face still lightens up because first of all, he's always happy to watch Dortmund games; he doesn't have time to watch them all, obviously, but when there's a chance he doesn't miss it. And second of all, it's objectively one of the most intriguing headlines in football, should be interesting, he's been a part of it so he knows. But seems like certain someone has a different opinion.
"Pfft, Der Klassiker. More like the economic version of El Calsico." Gavi scoffs, prompting Jude to roll his eyes.
"C'mon, don't be an arse, you're not in a position to label any club as 'economic'." Jude grins because now Gavi frowns.
Oh, this night is bound to be entertaining and perhaps a bit tense, depending on which club his angry bird chooses to root for. He can be quite an annoying little brat when it comes to teams he doesn't like. A true football fan, indeed.
"Shut up! You know what I mean. Maybe ages ago when dinosaurs were still around and Robert was playing for Dortmund it was interesting but now the competition is as dead as those dinosaurs."
Jude opens his mouth to throw a worthy, in his opinion, comeback but Gavi cuts him off. "If you dare to say something about Barça again I'll kick you out. Everything you won last season we won literally in the previous one."
Fair, almost. Jude, still grinning, raises his eyebrows. "First of all, you can’t throw me out of my own house. Second of all…everything, you sure?"
The bird's frown deepens even more — Jude didn't know it was possible, but he's still cute especially with that lovely pout. Jude wants to kiss it.
"Alright, that's it! You're watching from the yard!"
And with that, Gavi actually grabs Jude's leg, attempting to toss him off the bed. Jude giggles uncontrollably, managing to grip Gavi's waist and distract the persistent boy with tickles before tightening his hold and squeezing him in his arms. Gavi gasps, leaning into Jude, still panting. Jude gently strokes his sides.
"Come here," he whispers against Gavi's parted lips, catching him off guard and tossing him back onto the bed.
"Cheater!" Gavi does that cute frowny pout again. This time Jude plants a kiss on it, turning it into a smile, kisses the smile too and again... and again until it melts into a low moan, and it's his cue to stop because if they don't they'll simply miss all the matches.
"Alright then, aside from being a brat, who are you gonna root for?" Jude asks, clearing his throat and putting some distance between them.
Gavi, still sprawled on his back, wonders why his boyfriend had to stop so soon. He's convinced the match isn't worth it, so he decides to be even brattier.
"None. Both can lose for all I care. I don't like any of them," says with a perky tone.
Jude sighs.
"If that's how you're going to pick a team, then you're going to be neutral the entire time until your precious Barça plays. That's just boring," Jude tries to scold him but can't hide a small smile.
"That's not true," Gavi says with a mischievous smirk, finally sitting up, "I'll easily pick a team when Madrid plays."
Of course, how could Jude forget? He can't believe he's actually going to watch a Madrid derby with him. Love is truly blind because no sane person would sign up for that hell. He just closes his eyes with a defeated smile and accepts his fate, bracing for a long, dark night filled with terrors.
Gavi notices the desperation on his boyfriend's face and decides to show some mercy.
"Okay, fine, don't make that face. I'll root for Dortmund. I like when underdogs win, as long as they're not against us."
Maybe Jude should just wave the white flag and stop pushing his boyfriend's buttons, but where's the fun in that? Plus, the cheeky little brat tried to kick him out of his own house — he deserves a little payback.
"Mate, at this rate, you *are* the underdogs. Show some respect for UCL finalists; some clubs haven’t been there since 2015!" Jude says, confident that Pablo won't have a comeback for this one. But he's underestimating him.
Pablo doesn't frown, doesn't pout, doesn't even roll his beautiful eyes, almost as if he was expecting something like that to come out of Jude's mouth. Instead he leans closer to Jude, dropping a flirtatious gaze to his lips while playing with the collar of his t-shirt.
"You know, I had a little gift for you in case your ex-club wins. Too bad you don't know when to shut your pretty mouth," says softly, theatrically sighing before gently biting Jude's bottom lip and moving away to fully make him understand the extent of his mistake. Jude swallows hard.
"And if I apologize?"
"Too late, match has already started," says without even glancing at Jude. Unlike Jude, who can't stop staring at him.
"Fuck," Jude mutters, finally shifting his attention to the match that’s already been underway for two minutes.
***
"If Robert was still at Bayern the score would have been 3:0 by now," Gavi says, munching on a candy after the first half ends at 0-0.
"Hey, don't disrespect Kane like that." Jude frowns.
If Robert is so good he should score those hat-tricks for Barça.
"I'm not disrespecting anyone. I actually like Kane; he's good but I'm saying the truth and you know it — Bayern Lewa was something else."
Okay, fine maybe Jude has to agree with that but most importantly—
"Hey, leave something for me! You're annihilating our snacks."
"Not my fault you're slow, Bellingham."
Gavi laughs, sending another candy into his mouth and yella "stop!" a second later when Jude tries to take the pack from him.
***
It's 76 minutes in, and the score is still 0:0. Jude's more focused, of course, unlike Gavi who seems bored. He's about to crack open his third beer after demolishing half of the snacks. Just as he opens his mouth to say, "I told you this wouldn't be as interesting as you claimed," the commentator suddenly screams "GOAL!"
He immediately whips his head back to the screen to see who scored. It's Kane, thanks to a stunning assist.
"Nice one, Bambi," Jude says with a competitive smirk.
Even though he wants Dortmund to win, he still has friends on Bayern, two of whom were involved in that goal.
Gavi's frown deepens yet again.
"Who's Bambi?" he asks, looking at Jude confused.
"Jamal! We used to call him Bambi. He looked like him, still does." Jude chuckles, recalling a funny memory from the past.
"Cute," Pablo mutters, not really meaning it.
"Yeah, he is, especially his reaction to it! t'was always funny as fuck," continues Jude excitedly, clearly missing the sudden shift in Gavi’s demeanor.
"Oh, you two were close, right?"
"Well yeah, we've known each other since we were kids, just like you and half of your team," Jude replies, sensing something’s off with Gavi's tone but not quite sure what.
"He also congratulated you for the Kopa, didn't he? He must really like you," Gavi states, his tone taking on a sharper edge. Jude isn't sure he likes where this conversation is going.
"Yeah, just like Pedri did when you won it, he even came to announce you as the winner."
"Pedri is my teammate and he didn't lose the award to me," Gavi retorts abruptly, and Jude finally gets it. He takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment to gather his patience before continuing.
"He's straight, Jamal, I mean."
Pablo gives him a side eye. "Did I ask?"
Okay, Jude lied when he said he didn't like where this is going; it's actually quite amusing for some reason.
"And I didn't have any type of crush on him, by the way. He's my childhood friend," Jude adds, barely holding back a smile.
Gavi finally turns to look at him.
"That's cool but I don't remember asmmh—"
Jude stops his nonsense with a kiss, a passionate one because something about jealous Gavi makes him slightly dizzy.
Jude explores Gavi's lips, tasting their sweetness, before trailing kisses down to his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and prompting Gavi to throw his head back in pleasure. Jude realizes he should stop when Gavi's hands pull him closer and press their lips together again.
"The...match...if we don't...stop...," he tries to say between the kisses but can't bring himself to pull away.
"And if I say screw the match?" Gavi whispers against Jude’s lips, his hands impatiently tugging at the hem of Jude's t-shirt.
Jude doesn't think he can stop for the second time — he's not God's strongest soldier when it comes to resisting this boy. Ask him to score against 2009 Barça at the 90th minute, and he might just give it a shot, but don't ask him to stop now.
"I'd say you're damn right. But before we continue," he says, cupping Gavi's face, "I've never had serious relationships with anyone before. Yes, I've slept with a couple of boys and girls, but never anything serious. You hear me?" He plants a soft peck on Gavi's lips, who simply smiles.
"Yeah, I do."
***
The match ends with a score of 2-0; Kane scored a brace. The commentator's loud scream scared the literally fucking shit out of Jude. It was embarrassing because Gavi burst into laughter in the midst of a moan when he suddenly stopped thrusting.
The little shit will never shut up about it.