Chapter Text
Objective: Introduce the participant to the basics of kissing to instill confidence and to prepare them for future endeavors.
Duration: 4 lessons
Required tools: Chapstick, e.g., Carmex, Nivea
The metal wire of Lamine’s braces catches the fluorescent locker room light as his mouth stretches into a wide grin.
Pedri needs to stop interacting with teenagers. More specifically, mischievous teenagers who are too perceptive and calculating for their own good. He finds himself fooled—deceived even—by Lamine’s sneaky ways. His cunning nature is hidden in a charming and smiley package, complete with a bow on top, that lulls you into a false sense of security. And at one point or another, like a jack-in-the-box, he will catch you off guard.
The situation is as follows: Said cunning brace-faced teen is hounding Pedri for never having kissed anyone. Lamine looks delighted, and Pedri, being too fond of him, can do nothing but half-heartedly protect his wounded pride and try to convince him otherwise. He doesn’t even know how they ended up on the topic of kissing.
“You’ve never kissed! He’s never kissed anyone!” Lamine squeals with delight, pointing at Pedri like he’s a bully from a low budget American sitcom.
Pedri is glad it’s just him and three others in the locker room. He's not particularly fond of being the centre of attention, especially outside of the pitch. And this has immense potential to become an inside joke that surely will overstay its welcome, as some jokes tend to do. It’d probably stick around for decades to come, with how young his teammates are and how nostalgia has a habit of making things seem funnier than they actually were.
Pedri summons all of the bravado that he possibly can, crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. “Of course I have.”
“Liar!” Lamine yells as he walks backwards towards the door, “you’re blushing! Your secret has been revealed.”
Pau lets out a snicker. Not him too!
Two against one. Time to change tactics.
“Hey!” Pedri clears his throat. “Respect your seniors!” To his great disappointment, he doesn’t sound very authoritative or strict. He shakes a fist to make up for it, but based on the way Lamine’s eyes crinkle, he doesn’t do a very good job.
Lamine lets out another laugh and then he’s out the door with a snickering Pau on his heels. Kids these days.
Once they’ve left the room and the echo of their laughter bouncing in the hallway has faded, Pedri hears a soft chuckle behind him.
“Don’t let it get to you,” Ferran says with a kind smile.
It’s the first thing Pedri noticed about him when they met each other all those years ago. Ferran’s smile, the easy tilt of his mouth. He’s so lovely it’s unfair, looking all soft and charming and handsome in his oversized hoodie and grey sweats. Pedri, trying to be a good ambassador, is wearing an Adidas hoodie and track pants that aren't nearly as comfortable as what Ferran has on. He wonders if he could get away with stealing Ferran's outfit. Maybe if were real sneaky about it...
Pedri snaps back to reality. He can't possibly be daydreaming about someone while talking to them. To his frustration, Ferran has this effect on him sometimes, makes his brain short circuit by just existing and being handsome. It's not very good for Pedri's galloping heart either.
“I’m not.” He really isn’t.
He is, actually. Pedri is not one to live in denial or delude himself in his own mind, he will do it out loud, however. He knows that Lamine is akin to an annoying little brother to everyone on the team—this just happens to be a sore spot for him, embarrassingly enough. Ugh. He can’t stop himself from pouting.
Pedri must give Ferran—the perceptive bastard—a look without meaning to, because his eyebrows raise significantly and his mouth goes a bit slack.
“Wait, don’t tell me you—”
“Ferran…” Pedri starts, trying to sound threatening once again. Devastatingly, it doesn’t work in the slightest.
“You’re telling me that no one—” Ferran ignores the warning tone in Pedri’s voice and continues.
“I-I’ve been busy with football!”
“So has everyone else here!”
Mortified, Pedri hides his face in his hands, trying to will his blush away. He wishes he at least could look delicate and dainty or something, but the reality is that he's groaning unattractively into his clammy palms, face aflame.
“Just drop it, please,” he mumbles into his hands. Why is this so embarrassing?
“I could help you.”
Pedri looks up and lets out an incredulous laugh. "Help me?!" His voice gets a bit high pitched.
He can’t help but smile at the absurdity of Ferran's suggestion, and the way he says it so earnestly. Pedri feels all gooey inside, and kind of like he’s melting, like he’s the main character in one of those grocery store romances, about to swoon. In a locker room no less, surrounded by the lingering smell of an unholy combination of cheap Axe and way too expensive cologne. He respects the range of his teammates' go-to body sprays slash colognes slash perfumes, he can’t lie.
“Yeah, you know,” Ferran says before he licks his lips, “practice and shit.”
“Practice and shit?” Pedri lets out another laugh. He loves spending time with Ferran, can’t get enough of it, enough of him. He simply makes Pedri feel at ease. Like right now: Pedri doesn’t know how, but Ferran has effortlessly, and not to mention smoothly, managed to ease the embarrassment Pedri felt mere seconds ago.
Ferran just stands there and looks at Pedri expectantly.
“Yeah. Practice… and shit,” he repeats, punctuating his sentence with a sharp nod.
Why not, Pedri thinks as a sudden feeling of impulsivity overtakes his logic. He’ll prove Lamine wrong.
(Lamine will have forgotten all about this by the next time they see each other (tomorrow morning) and have found both a new topic to obsess over and a new victim.)
Pedri also wants to, erm, kiss his long-time crush. But that’s beside the point. The point he has to prove, that is.
Back to the situation at hand:
He has thought about Ferran’s lips many a time, most of them with a hand down his boxers.
Ignore that. Now, back to the situation at hand, for real this time:
“I mean. Sure?” Pedri shrugs, trying to play it off as if he is not flustered to the point of nearly passing out and ignoring the blush on his face that he knows is still spreading. Based on the way Ferran’s eyes seem focused on tracing the shape of his lips, Pedri is unsure whether he even notices and if it matters at all.
Ferran leans down and gives him a peck.
And—
It’s over?
“That’s it?”
“Excuse me?” Ferran asks in mock offence.
Pedri lets out a breathless giggle, he can’t help it. “I’m just being honest!”
"Oh really now," Ferran murmurs and leans down again.
This time, he kisses Pedri firmer. Ferran grabs the back of Pedri's neck and gently angles his head to the right. Oh. Okay, this feels pretty good. More than good, actually. Pedri leans into it. He absentmindedly plays with the tattered strings of Ferran’s hoodie. If they adjusted the angle a tiny bit they could…
Suddenly, they hear commotion in the hallway and spring away from each other.
Pau jogs back into the locker room and grabs his, seemingly forgotten, headphones from the bench he was sitting on earlier. “You guys alright?” he asks. His eyes curiously bounce between the two of them.
It was just an innocent kiss, completely platonic, but Pedri is suddenly hit by the fear that it’ll change things between them. To his relief, Ferran throws an arm around his shoulders. He leans into the touch, feeling his anxiety evaporate.
“Just giving Pedri an introductory course in kissing, he has a lot to learn, you know—”
“H-hey!” Pedri squeaks and elbows Ferran in the ribs. His face is so hot that touching it surely will result in third degree burns. Pedri knows it is a joke and that Pau won’t think anything is afoot, but Ferran is crazy for saying it, regardless.
Ferran lets out an oof that quickly morphs into a laugh.
Pau furrows his brows, a lopsided smile on his face. “Well, good luck with that,” he says as he turns to leave, headphones in hand.
“An introductory course, really?” Pedri turns to look up at Ferran and raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Ferran grins, this time it’s more cocky than soft. “And this was lesson one.”