Chapter Text
Joan Garcia had only been at Barça for three weeks during the preseason and somehow it already felt like he’d always been there.
From the first day, it was impossible not to like him. He was that kind of person, the one who talked to everyone, not because he was trying to impress but because he genuinely wanted to know them.
The kitmen adored him because he cracked jokes with them. The medical staff cooed at him because he’d open and hold doors for them to pass before he did. The cafeteria staff loved him because he always thanked them properly. Even the groundskeeper - a man who rarely looked up from his work - would nod and grin when Joan passed by just because Joan had made it a habit to talk to him about his day and ask him questions regarding it.
“Good energy, that one. Very easy to work with,” one of the physios had said to Hansi Flick after the first training and everyone agreed.
Pedri had noticed too though he tried not to.
At first, he told himself it was just nice to have someone like that around in the squad. But the more time they spent together, during training, during the preseason tour, the more he caught himself looking at Joan in small moments too.
It started simple. Joan sitting next to him at lunch, all smiles talking about how weird it felt to move back to Barcelona after years away.
“I still get lost driving to the training ground,” he admitted once, sheepish.
Pedri had grinned. “Don’t worry, Gavi still gets lost inside the training ground.”
Joan laughed so hard he nearly choked on his water and from that moment on, it was easy.
They started hanging out after training when they came back to Barcelona from their Asian tour, short things at first. A quick coffee near Ciutat Esportiva or an unplanned stop at the beach on the way home. Joan had a way of making even quiet moments feel alive. He’d hum along to songs in the car, tell stories that went nowhere but were still funny, gesturing wildly with his hands, ask questions that made Pedri think before answering.
By the end of his first 2 months here, they’d somehow become a bit of a pair. Gavi complained about it constantly.
“Bro, he’s replaced me,” he told Lamine one morning. “Pedri’s laughing at other people’s jokes now.”
Pedri had rolled his eyes.
He just liked Joan’s company. That was all.
They were sitting in the locker room one afternoon, post training. Everyone was scattered around, half dressed, talking about whatever came up - upcoming league games, music, weekend plans.
Joan had flopped down next to him, towel slung over his shoulders, still a little out of breath.
“Man, Barça’s treating me too well,” he said. “You know they’ve got me in a five star hotel downtown till I find a place? With a spa. A spa, Pedri. And the bathroom? I swear I didn’t even know how to use half the buttons in there.”
Pedri snorted. “Ah, the good old hotel stay. Been there. It’s great fun, isn’t it?”
“Fun? I feel like a king, tio! There’s this remote control that closes the curtains for you. I pressed the wrong button once and the lights started changing colour. Felt like I was in a disco.”
Pedri shook his head, smiling. “You found a place yet?”
“Nah.” Joan sighed dramatically. “Haven’t even looked. I mean, I should. But every time I think about leaving that hotel bathtub behind, I get sad.”
Pedri’s lips twitched. He wasn’t even thinking, just reacting to the way Joan’s grin made him feel.
Without hesitation, he said, “You can stay with me if you want.”
Silence.
Joan blinked. “What?”
From across the locker room, Gavi froze mid sentence, mouth open. “Bro.”
Pedri’s brain finally caught up.
Shit.
But it was too late now, so he doubled down, straightening up like it was nothing.
“I’ve got a spare room,” he said, shrugging. “You could stay there till you find a place. Closer to training, too.”
Joan looked surprised but also amused. “You’re just… offering me your spare room like that?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I’d charge you rent or anything.”
A laugh bubbled out of Joan, warm and fond. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
Joan leaned back against the bench. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to recruit me as a roommate.”
Gavi, now openly staring, muttered under his breath, “He literally is.”
Pedri glared at him. “Shut up.”
Joan laughed again, head tilted, that sunshine smile returning. “Alright, I’ll think about it.”
Pedri nodded, pretending to focus on putting his shoes away but the corner of his mouth wouldn’t stop twitching upward.
He didn’t mean for it to come out like that. But as Joan stood up to leave, tossing his towel over his shoulder and flashing him another one of those easy, bright smiles, Pedri felt a weird flutter in his chest.
He told himself it was nothing. Just friendship. Just the start of a new season and as one of the captains, it was his duty to help new teammates.
But that night, when he got home and saw the spare room door half open and waiting, he caught himself smiling again, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Joan said yes.
Joan said yes a few days later.
He did it casually, like it wasn’t something that had been sitting in Pedri’s chest for days. They were grabbing coffee after training and Joan stirred sugar into his cup, then said, “So, uh… about that offer. The spare room?”
Pedri looked up from his phone, blinking. “Yeah?”
“I’ll take it. At least till I find something. If you’re still sure.”
Pedri tried to sound calm but his smile gave him away. “Yeah. Of course. My place isn’t a five star hotel though.”
Joan grinned, bumping his knee lightly under the table. “That’s fine. I’m not really high maintenance.”
Pedri rolled his eyes but his heart was doing that annoying flutter thing again.
The news spread through their little friend group quicker than he expected.
He was in the gym two days later when Ferran cornered him.
“Pepi… don’t tell me what I just heard is true. You’re letting Joan do what now?” Ferran said, voice sharp in a way that made Pedri blink.
“I’m letting Joan stay with me,” Pedri said simply, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Just till he finds a place.”
Ferran stared at him like he’d lost it. “Pedri, you barely know him. You’re just gonna let some new guy live in your house?”
Pedri frowned, confused. “He’s not some guy. He’s nice. He’s been our teammate for almost two months now. And it’s temporary.”
“That’s not the point! You don’t even know his habits, what if he’s messy, what if-“
“I said it out loud, Ferran. I couldn’t take it back then. It’d be weird.”
Ferran stared at him, mouth opening and closing, clearly trying to find the right words. “You - you cannot be serious.”
“I am serious,” Pedri said stubbornly. “He’s a teammate. It’s fine.”
Across the room, Eric winced from where he was stretching, glancing between them.
Ferran shook his head, frustrated. “You just - you do things without thinking sometimes, Pepi. One day that’s gonna backfire.”
Pedri didn’t know what to say to that, so he just grabbed his towel and muttered, “You’re overreacting,” before walking off.
Ferran’s glare followed him out the door.
Joan was the same, all bright and relaxed, fitting in like he’d been part of the team for years. He joked with Gavi, teased Balde, and threw an arm around Pedri’s shoulders when he passed by.
Pedri didn’t think much of it but Ferran clearly did.
From the edge of the pitch, Ferran’s eyes followed them, jaw set tight. He didn’t say anything but a weird tension hung there. When Joan laughed at something Pedri said, Ferran’s grip on his water bottle tightened.
Pedri didn’t notice. He was too busy laughing back.
After training, when they were cooling down, Gavi dropped down beside Pedri with that telltale grin, the one that meant trouble.
“You know what this is starting to feel like?” he said.
Pedri groaned. “I already hate this.”
“It’s The Summer I Turned Pretty, bro.”
Pedri blinked. “What?”
“You’re Belly,” Gavi said solemnly. “And Joan and Ferran are the two brothers pining for your love.”
Pedri dropped his head into his hands. “Here you go...”
“I’m right though! They kinda even look alike! You sooo have a type, bro. So tell me… who’s your Conrad, Pedri? Who will you choose?” Gavi finished dramatically, his eyebrows wiggling.
Pedri grabbed his water bottle and flipped him off as he got up.
Gavi cackled behind him, voice echoing across the pitch. “Team Joan or Team Ferran! Choose wisely, Belly!”
Joan moved in on a Thursday evening.
He showed up smiling as always, his duffel bags slung over his shoulders and a bakery box held precariously in one hand.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said when Pedri opened the door. “Croissants. You know as a thank you. The guy at the cafe said they were his best batch though I don’t know if he said that just so I could buy them.”
Pedri laughed, stepping aside. “That’s better than you paying rent.”
Joan unpacked quickly, humming under his breath, stopping every now and then to ask things like ‘where should I put my books?’ or ‘is this drawer free?’ as if he didn’t want to touch anything without permission.
They ate dinner together - takeout, half cold by the time they remembered to sit down and talked about everything from movies to the worst hairstyles in football history. Joan made Pedri laugh more in one hour than he had all week.
When they finally said goodnight, Joan grinned at him from his doorway, hair a little mussed, eyes soft.
“Thanks again, eh? I promise I don’t snore.”
Pedri smiled back. “We’ll see.”
But when he lay down, the apartment was quiet but he couldn’t sleep.
He’s just across the hall, Pedri thought. Literally just there.
He turned over. And over again. Sleep refused to come.
Finally, sometime past midnight, he gave up. He got up, padded out into the hallway barefoot and headed for the kitchen for a glass of water.
The lights were already on.
Joan was standing by the counter, shirtless, with his back to him, a glass in his hand. The soft kitchen light hit his skin in warm gold and for a split second, Pedri forgot to breathe.
It wasn’t anything dramatic, just the way Joan’s shoulders shifted, the smooth lines of his back muscles flexing.
Something about it made Pedri’s kind of brain short circuit disastrously.
“Oh,” he said before he could stop himself.
Joan turned, startled. “Oh, hey sorry, did I wake you? I was just thirsty.”
Pedri’s mouth opened then closed again. Joan was fully facing him by now and God, why the hell was he shirtless and why the hell were his shoulders so broad and why the fuck was he so fit. Who gave him the right.
Pedri’s face felt way too hot. “No, you - you didn’t,” he stammered, voice tripping over itself. “I just - I couldn’t sleep, so I came for water. But it’s - uh, it’s fine, I’ll… yeah. Hmm.”
Joan looked amused, “You can have some too, you know.”
Pedri nodded far too quickly. “Right. Yeah. Water.”
He poured himself some, managed to spill a little, muttered something that might’ve been goodnight and fled before his ears could actually catch fire.
Back in his room, he leaned against the door and groaned quietly into his hands.
“Brilliant,” he muttered. “Absolutely brilliant.”
The next morning, when he finally padded out into the living room, Joan was already there. He was in a faded old band tee and shorts, hair messy in a way that honestly? It was distracting
“Morning,” he said brightly. “Your coffee’s on the table.”
Pedri blinked at him. “You made coffee?”
“And toast,” Joan said, gesturing at the plate between them. “Well, something that was supposed to be toast. Your toaster tried to kill one slice.”
Pedri laughed despite himself. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” Joan said easily. “Figured I should earn my keep somehow. You know, since you’re letting a near stranger invade your home.”
“You’re not a stranger,” Pedri said before thinking and then immediately busied himself with picking up a toast.
Joan leaned his hip against the counter, watching him. “Careful, say nice things like that and I might never leave.”
Pedri almost choked on his coffee. “You - what?”
“Kidding. Mostly. You okay?”
“Yeah,” Pedri muttered, feeling his face heat again. “Coffee’s good.”
“Thank you. I know you liked it this way.”
“Lucky guess.”
“Hmm.” Joan tilted his head. “Or call it intuition. I’m very tuned in to the energy of my housemates. Judging by the fact that we’ve been getting coffee most days after training.”
Pedri rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “‘Tuned to the energy of your housemates?’ You’re bizarre.”
“And I can already tell you don’t like loud mornings,” Joan said, tapping his mug against Pedri’s. “So I kept it quiet. Look at me, I’m learning fast.”
Pedri looked at him for a long moment, warmth creeping up his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
They ate at the counter, conversation drifting easily. Joan talked with his hands, laughed often and somehow made Pedri feel like the apartment had always been meant to sound like this, light, easy and alive.
When Joan stood to rinse the dishes, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “By the way, I’m on dinner duty tonight.“
Pedri shook his head, grinning. “I’m not complaining.”
After breakfast they had gone to get ready to drive off for training.
Joan had gone to grab his training bag, humming as he disappeared down the hall. Pedri watched him go for a second, smiling despite himself. The apartment felt weirdly light - shoes by the door that weren’t his, another voice bouncing off the walls. Nice, he thought. Easier than he thought
He pulled on a hoodie, slung his bag over one shoulder and called down the hall,
“Ready?”
“Almost!” Joan’s voice floated back. “Trying to remember if I packed gloves!”
Pedri shook his head, amused. “You’re a keeper, you literally need those!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Joan laughed, appearing in the doorway a moment later, “Thanks, Ma.”
Pedri rolled his eyes, grabbing his keys. “Come on before we’re late.”
Joan followed him toward the door but just as Pedri was reaching for the handle, his phone started buzzing.
Ferran.
He hesitated a second, then picked up. “Hey.”
“Sorry, Pepi,” Ferran’s voice came, a little breathless. “I’m running late. Give me five minutes and I’ll be there so we can go together.”
Pedri froze. His eyes flicked to Joan, who was kneeling to tie his shoes. “Oh. Uh - actually…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m giving Joan a ride today.”
There was a pause on the other end. “What?”
Pedri winced. “Yeah, I mean we’re both already going that way, so-“
“What, you’re his chauffeur too now?”
“What? No, it’s not like that. It’s just… eco-friendly, you know?” He laughed nervously. “Two people, one car. Saving the planet!”
Silence. Then a sharp exhale. “Whatever, Pedri. You’re just so… ugh, whatever.”
The line went dead.
Pedri stood there for a second, phone still in hand, staring at the dark screen.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Joan stood by, expression curious but gentle. “Everything okay?”
Pedri nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just Ferran being dramatic.”
Joan laughed. “He seems like the dramatic type.”
“Yeah, well…” Pedri muttered, pocketing his phone.
Joan slung his bag higher on his shoulder, still smiling. “Alright then, chauffeur. Let’s go save the planet.”
Training that morning started easy. Warm ups, passing drills, the usual light chatter.
Joan was in goal, relaxed, smiling as always. He’d waved to Pedri from across the field before the mini game and tossed him a grin that made something tighten pleasantly in Pedri’s chest.
Ferran, though, was… lets say, different.
They broke into a training match, quick transitions, one touch passing, shots on goal.
Ferran got the ball early in the drill and hit a long range shot that curled perfectly into the top corner. It was a beautiful strike - unstoppable really and Joan barely had time to move before it hit the net.
“Good goal, Ferran!” Joan called out immediately, grinning like he meant it.
But Ferran didn’t answer. He just turned, wiped sweat from his face and headed straight for Pedri.
“Did you see that?” he said, breathless but beaming.
“Yeah, Ferri, that was insane. Great goal.” Pedri smiled at him.
Ferran’s grin widened as he slung an arm around Pedri’s shoulders, pulling him close in a that too familiar gesture. “Guess I’ve still got it.”
Pedri smiled, shaking his head. “You never lost it.”
Across the pitch, Joan stood by the goalpost, still catching his breath. And when he looked up, Ferran met his eyes, tightened his arm around Pedri and smirked. And it wasn’t a friendly smirk.
Ah.
That was when Joan understood.
He didn’t say anything, just rolled his shoulders and turned back toward the pitch. Flick’s whistle cut the air again, calling for another round.
“Back to positions!”
The next play started quick. Ferran got the ball again and sent a strike from a sharper angle. Joan read it perfectly this time, diving low and snapping the ball away.
“Lucky,” Ferran muttered.
Joan smiled. “Good shot.”
Another go, another attack. This time Ferran tried to go top corner again but Joan tipped it over the bar with an easy flick of his wrist.
“Nice try,” Joan said.
Ferran’s jaw flexed.
By the fifth time Ferran tried, and the fifth time Joan denied him, even the others were starting to notice. Every save was cleaner, more confident and Joan had just the faintest twinkle in his eyes.
When the drill ended, Flick blew the final whistle. “Good work, everyone.”
Everyone clapped each other’s backs, laughing, tired. Pedri jogged over to the goal, grin wide. “Woah, Joan, great game! You were everywhere.”
“Thanks,” Joan said, voice light but his eyes flicked to where Ferran was standing a few yards away.
Ferran was watching, expression tight.
Joan met his gaze, raised his brows just slightly and gave him a slow, calm smile - the kind that said I see you now.
The locker room was noisy as always as Pedri headed in after the session. He sat down near his locker and started undoing his laces.
Joan was a few lockers down, laughing with Eric and Gavi about something dumb Gavi had said mid drill. His laugh was infectious in way that everyone else seemed to smile just looking at him. He had this weird kind of presence about him that made even the air around him feel easier.
Pedri found himself glancing over without meaning to, smiling when Joan threw his head back laughing. He didn’t even realise when Ferran sat down next to him.
“Your new best friend’s real funny, huh?”
Pedri looked up. “Huh?”
Ferran kicked at his boot, pretending casual. “You and Joan. You two are glued at the hip now. Every time I look over, he’s right there.”
“He’s new, Ferri. I’m just helping him settle in. You’d do the same.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Pedri sighed, turning back to his boots. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” Ferran said, too quickly. “Just saying. You barely know the guy and suddenly you’re driving him around, living together and defending him like-“
He stopped himself.
“Like what?”
Ferran exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Forget it, Pepi. You never see it coming anyway.”
“See what?” Pedri asked, irritation creeping in.
Ferran didn’t answer. He just stood, grabbed his towel and muttered, “Nothing. Enjoy your car ride.”
Pedri watched him walk off toward the showers, muscles tense, feeling that strange sting in his chest that came when a friend got mad and you didn’t really understand why.
“Everything okay?”
He looked up to see Joan standing right there
“Yeah,” Pedri said automatically, forcing a small smile. “Ferran’s just… he gets fussy sometimes.”
Joan tilted his head. “Yeah, I got that today. Did I… do something to set him off?”
“What? No, no, you’re fine. He just… he’s always been like that. Competitive.”
Joan’s smile returned, softer this time. “I get it. He’s protective of you.”
Pedri blinked. “Protective?”
“Sure,” Joan said, grinning. “You’re like the golden boy. Everyone wants a piece.”
Pedri rolled his eyes but before Pedri could answer, Gavi shouted across the room, towel slung around his neck. “Oi, lovebirds! You done flirting?”
Pedri groaned as his ears went red. “Shut up, Gavi.”
A few days later, on an evening after training, Joan dropped his bag by the couch and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough for Pedri to look away and cough very deliberately.
“You good?” Joan asked, amused.
“Yeah. Just… hungry.”
“Then we fix that.” Joan clapped his hands once, decisive. “Chef Joan is in the house.”
Pedri snorted. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Joan grinned, heading for the kitchen. “You’ll see. My specialty pasta is undefeated.”
“Everyone says that before they burn the sauce.”
“Not this guy.” Joan pointed at himself. “I was raised on real home cooking. You?”
“Yeah, me too” Pedri said, following him in. “But I’m still the most hopeless in the kitchen out of every one in the family. My brother doesn’t even let me in the kitchen while he’s cooking.”
Joan laughed. “Smart man. You seem like the type to forget the water’s boiling.”
“I do not! …Okay, I did once.”
They cooked together or rather, Joan cooked while Pedri leaned against the counter, pretending to help while actually watching him move. Joan hummed under his breath, easy rhythm, stirring sauce and tossing pasta like he’d done it a thousand times. Every now and then he’d say something that made Pedri laugh so hard he almost dropped the plates.
When they finally sat down to eat - two plates of pasta, garlic bread, a bottle of water between them - it just felt comfortable.
“Okay,” Pedri said, after a bite. “You win. It’s actually really good.”
“I told you, didn’t I?”
Pedri grinned. “Yeah, you did. Don’t let it get to your head though, Joanito.”
Joan narrowed his eyes playfully. “Ah, you’re impossible.”
“People keep saying that,” Pedri said, pretending to think. “I wonder why.”
Joan shook his head, smiling and reached for his drink. “You’re lucky you’re cute, that’s all I’m saying.”
Pedri blinked, caught off guard, then laughed it off, pretending not to notice the way his heart tripped over itself.
They cleaned up together, bumping shoulders, tossing playful insults back and forth. It was so easy.
Later, Joan spotted a stack of dusty board games tucked under the TV stand. “You play?”
“Used to,” Pedri said. “Mostly with my brother. Haven’t in ages though,”
“Then it’s time,” Joan declared. “Come on. Pick your weapon.”
They ended up sitting cross legged on the rug with a box of Monopoly between them, arguing over rules before they’d even started.
They played until it got late and Joan, naturally, cheated outrageously. Every time Pedri caught him, he’d just flash that disarming grin and say, “Don’t hate the player, Pedro! Hate the game. Hate the real capitalistic pig world we live in! I’m just an innocent bystander.”
It was almost midnight when Pedri realised he hadn’t checked his phone once all evening.
Joan yawned, stretching his arms overhead. “Alright, champ. I’m heading to bed before you convince me to play another round.”
“I wouldn’t even have to convince you,” Pedri teased.
Joan grinned. “True. Goodnight, Pepi.”
“Goodnight, Joan.”
Next morning, Pedri was still half asleep when he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Joan was already there in his socks, hair sticking up in every direction, humming quietly as he flipped an omelet with ridiculous ease.
“Morning,” Pedri mumbled, voice rough.
Joan turned, bright grin spreading across his face. “Morning, sunshine. You sleep okay?”
Pedri nodded, scratching the back of his neck.
“Good. Coffee’s almost ready.” Joan turned back to the pan. “And before you complain - yes, I’m making breakfast and no, you’re not allowed to help.”
Pedri leaned against the counter, fighting a smile. “You know I can cook some things right?”
“Toast isn’t cooking.”
“Hey-“
“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Joan said, mock stern. “You told me you burnt pasta water, remember?”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Not a chance.” Joan slid the omelet onto a plate and set it in front of him with a flourish. “Voila. Breakfast of champions.”
Pedri sat, grinning despite himself. “You’re too nice.”
“I’m strategic,” Joan said, taking the seat across from him. “Keep the roommate fed and cheerful and he won’t kick me out.”
Pedri rolled his eyes, laughing softly. “I’d still kick you out if you snored.”
“Admit it, you’d miss me if I left.”
Pedri didn’t answer immediately, chewing slowly. “Maybe, a little bit,” he said finally.
Joan smiled, the teasing fading for a moment. “I’ll take it.”
It was one of those slow, perfect mornings and Pedri had started clearing the plates when a sharp knock sounded at the door.
He frowned. “Who’s-“
“Expecting someone?” Joan asked.
Pedri shook his head, drying his hands and heading to the door.
When he opened it, he froze.
“Hey, Pepi!” Ferran’s voice was bright. “You’re still not dressed? Come on, we’re gonna be late.”
“Ferran,” Pedri said, blinking. “Uh - what are you doing here?”
“I came to pick you up.” Ferran grinned like it was obvious. “Thought we’d go to training together, like we always do.”
“Right, yeah, but…” Pedri rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I was gonna drive Joan today too.”
“Again?” Ferran stepped inside before Pedri could say anything else and stopped short.
Joan looked up from where he was rinsing mugs in the sink. “Morning,” he said easily, that sunny smile still there. “Coffee?”
Ferran’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No, thanks. Didn’t know you two were having breakfast.”
“Yeah,” Pedri said quickly, feeling the tension spike. “We were just about to get ready.”
“Right,” Ferran said, crossing his arms. “So I guess I showed up at a bad time.”
“It’s not like that, Ferri. It’s just… he just got his car and we’re both heading the same way, anyway. Easier to just go together. That’s all.”
Joan, catching the look on Ferran’s face, wiped his hands and turned. “It’s okay, Pedri. Don’t worry about it.”
Pedri looked at him, uncertain. “But-“
Joan smiled. “The club gave me the car and I have to take it out again some time. It’s been sitting there in the garage all lonely for the past few days.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Oh,” Pedri said, still frowning a little. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Joan said. “You two go. I’ll see you there.”
Ferran’s jaw tightened and Pedri could only manage a small nod.
“Okay,” he said, finally. “We’ll meet you at training.”
Joan just smiled again, that bright, unbothered smile. “See you there, Pepi.”
Pedri went and got dressed and when he came out of his room, Ferran was in the complete opposite end of the living room from Joan, both of them on their phones like they didn’t have a single thing to say to each other. When Ferran noticed Pedri, he smiled and got up and they walked out.
As they walked down the hall, Ferran muttered, “So now he’s calling you Pepi too, huh?”
Pedri frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
But his hands were shoved deep in his pockets and Pedri couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him.
It was going to be a long morning.
The drive was quiet for the first few minutes. Pedri put the radio on low but it still didn’t really fill the silence.
Ferran sat in the drivers seat with his jaw tight. Every now and then he’d glance out the window on red lights like the view had personally offended him.
Pedri finally sighed. “You can say whatever it is you want to say, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been acting weird since you came over.”
“I’m not acting weird,” Ferran said, which was exactly what someone acting weird would say.
Pedri snorted. “Sure.”
Another pause. Then Ferran cleared his throat. “So… is he looking at new listings yet?”
Pedri blinked. “What?”
“Joan.” Ferran said. “For apartments. He is looking for a place, right?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything.”
“You don’t know?” Ferran leaned back, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “He’s living with you, Pepi. How do you not know?”
Pedri shrugged “We just… haven’t talked about it. He said it was temporary and I told him he could stay until he found somewhere. I figured he’d tell me if he was looking.”
Ferran let out a disbelieving sound. “You figured?”
“What?” Pedri said, defensive now. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? He can’t stay with you forever, Pedri. You need to tell him to start looking if he hasn’t already.”
Pedri groaned. “Oh my god, Ferran-“
“No, seriously,” Ferran interrupted. “I have a list of places. Good ones. Close to the training ground, nice areas. He can check them out. I’ll send them to you and you can show him yourself.”
“Since when do you care where he lives?”
“I don’t care about him at all,” Ferran shot back. “I just - he shouldn’t freeload off you, that’s all.”
“He’s not freeloading!” Pedri said, turning in his seat to look at him. “I told him he doesn’t have to pay rent yet he still insisted on it and wouldn’t take no for answer. He cleans, he cooks - he’s the one who makes me breakfast and dinner. He’s not noisy, he keeps the place tidy. He’s like… the perfect roommate.”
Ferran gave him a long look when they stopped at a red light, the kind that made Pedri instantly regret saying anything.
“Oh my god,” Ferran muttered. “You really don’t know.”
Pedri frowned. “What?”
Ferran shook his head. “You really don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“That he’s using all that sweet, smiley, nice guy energy to get under your skin,” Ferran said, voice sharp now. “And it’s working.”
Pedri stared at him, baffled. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
“Yes!” Pedri snapped. “He’s just nice, Ferran. Not everyone has an agenda, you know.”
Ferran stared out the window again, jaw clenched. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The rest of the drive was quieter.
When they finally pulled into the training ground parking lot, Pedri turned to Ferran who sat there bristling, “You know, you don’t have to like him, but could you at least not be a dick to him? We are teammates after all.”
Ferran looked at him then, something flickering behind his eyes and said softly, “You really, really never get it, Pepi.”
He got out before Pedri could say anything else.
What he really didn’t get was what exactly Ferran’s problem was.
The sun was brutal that morning when Joan drove to the training centre.
By mid day, the training had slowed and players wandered over to the sidelines for a water break.
Joan stayed behind by the goal after he’d just finished a round of drills when he noticed Ferran walking toward him.
“Hey, bro,” Ferran said, voice light. “Got a minute?”
Joan nodded slowly. “Sure. What’s up?”
Ferran smiled but it was the kind of smile that wasn’t a very genuine one. “Nothing much. Just wondering… you looking for new places yet?”
“New places?”
“Yeah,” he said “You know. To move out eventually. Since it’s been a while that you’re still staying at Pedri’s.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ve been checking a few listings.” Joan lied knowing full well he hadn’t checked anything at all.
“Good,” Ferran said quickly. “Because, you know, it’s nice of Pepi to help you out and all, but you can’t stay forever. He’s got his own life.”
Joan turned and raised an eyebrow at the edge in Ferran’s voice. “Is there something you want to say to me, Ferran?”
Ferran blinked, feigning innocence. “What? No, I’m just being friendly of course. Making sure you… acclimatise to the vibe in the squad.”
“Look… whatever it is you’re trying to say, just say it to my face, okay?” Joan sighed.
The fake charm on Ferran’s face slipped, the tension underneath surfacing. He exhaled, voice lower now. “Fine. Yeah, I do wanna say something. I like Pedri, alright? I’ve liked him for a while. He’s my best friend and I’ve been here before you. I’ve known him longer and - and now you show up out of nowhere, the new guy, Mr. Popular, Mr. Charming and suddenly he’s always with you. He barely has time to talk to me- to us anymore.”
Joan studied him for a moment, heartbeat steady. He didn’t rise to the bait, instead he tilted his head slightly, almost smirking. “You should’ve tried to be a bit more interesting,” he said finally. “Or a bit braver about your feelings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed.”
Ferran’s jaw clenched. “You think you know him that well after what - a few days of playing house?”
“I don’t think anything,” Joan said, shrugging lightly. “I just treat him like someone worth knowing and I’m brave enough not to keep him hanging about whatever my weird, hidden feelings are. Maybe that’s new for him.”
Ferran’s eyes darkened. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”
“I’m not. But I don’t see why this has to be a competition.”
“Because you don’t get it,” Ferran hissed. “You didn’t see what it was like before. He and I, we’re close. And you’re walking right into something you don’t understand.”
Joan’s expression shifted then, the easy humor gone. He stepped closer, close enough that his voice came out low and even.
“You’re acting like a child who had first dibs on him,” Joan said. “And now you’re throwing a tantrum because your ‘friend’ made a new friend. Grow up, won’t you?”
The words hung between them - heavy and tense.
Ferran stared at him, breathing hard, but said nothing. Then, after a long pause, he muttered, “You don’t know what you’re walking into,” and walked off toward the others.
It wasn’t that Joan didn’t understand the obvious jealousy. He understood the magnetic effect Pedri had and he kind of understood the blatant dislike Ferran had for him.
So yeah, he understood.
He just refused to let it make him feel small.
But that didn’t mean his words didn’t linger with him all day after that.
Maybe Pedri told him to say that?
Ferran was Pedri’s best friend, after all. If anyone would know how Pedri really felt about having a houseguest hanging around for too long, it would be him.
Joan didn’t sulk, didn’t get weird about it. That wasn’t his way. But when he got back home later, the easy rhythm they’d fallen into felt different somehow. He still smiled and laughed, still thanked Pedri for setting the table for dinner, of course he did, he hadn’t forgotten his manners.
But it was all a bit quieter in contrast to his normal way of being.
And Pedri noticed. They were sitting at the table, half finished salad bowls between them, when he finally asked, “Is something wrong?”
Joan blinked, caught mid bite. “No,” he said after a beat. “Nothing’s wrong.” He smiled.
Pedri didn’t quite buy it, he could tell but he didn’t push. He just nodded slowly, eyes flicking down to his food again.
Joan hesitated and then as casually as he could, he said, “I’ve started looking for listings, by the way.”
He shouldn’t have looked up but he did, and what he saw wasn’t what Ferran had led him to expect. Pedri’s expression froze for a split second before softening into something unreadable.
“Oh?” Pedri said, trying for lightness. “So soon?”
Joan shrugged, forcing a smile. “Didn’t want to overstay or anything. Figured I should at least start looking.”
Pedri’s brow furrowed and then he leaned forward a little, voice gentler. “Hey, uhm… it’s okay. You can take your time. I’m in no rush to kick you out or anything, really.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Pedri said. “Besides, who’s gonna make sure I actually eat breakfast if you leave?”
Joan laughed quietly at that, shaking his head. The air between them settled back into normal again, lighter now.
He looked at Pedri across the table, at the quiet sincerity in his smile and realised that Ferran’s words had been just that.
Ferran’s. Not Pedri’s.