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“Stand up,” Pedri demands as he throws a hoodie straight at Ferran, who is laying on the couch propped up on a pillow.
His boyfriend mumbles something at him, only moving the hoodie from his face to his shirtless chest, still scrolling on his phone. Pedri throws the sleep mask he’s still holding, trying once more to get his boyfriend’s attention, to no avail. He moves towards the couch, looming over Ferran and the two dogs laying on top of him.
“Stop ignoring me, tonto,” Pedri says, messing up Ferran’s fringe. That seems to do the trick, because Ferran looks up at him, an exaggerated pout on his lips Pedri leans down to kiss.
Ferran cracks a smile at that, “You have my attention.”
“I told you to get up,” Pedri smiles, extending his hand out for Ferran to take.
Ferran groans at that, rolling his head around his pillow dramatically. “But I’m so comfortable. And I don’t want to disturb the dogs,” he point them out, as if Pedri is unaware of their existence. “You could just join us.”
Pedri sighs, because laying on the couch cuddling with his boyfriend and their dogs does sound like his perfect afternoon plan. However, he’s trying to do something. “I won’t fall for your seduction tactics.”
“You love my seduction tactics,” Ferran smirks, reaching out and touching Pedri’s thigh underneath his shorts.
Pedri does love Ferran’s seduction tactics — he likes that sometimes he’s serious and full of praise for Pedri, like he can’t help the feelings spilling from his lips, and that sometimes he’s silly, dramatically whining and trying to touch every part of Pedri’s body like his life depends on it.
“Get dressed, c’mon,” Pedri takes a step back, nodding towards the hoodie.
Ferran sighs, sitting up and disturbing the dogs, who make their dissatisfaction known. He is acting like pulling the hoodie Pedri had thrown to him over his head is a monumental task, and, only then, does he seem to notice the sleep mask that had also fallen on top of him.
“Pedri,” he gasps, dramatically, like Pedri did something scandalous. Pedri rolls his eyes at him, smiling from ear to ear despite himself.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Pedri says over his shoulder as he moves over to the shelves and props his phone against them, trying to set up the camera.
“And we’re filming it?” Ferran jokes, muffled by the fabric.
“Madre mía,” Pedri mumbles, more to himself than his boyfriend, moving his phone slightly to the side.
Ferran approaches him from behind, arms wrapping around Pedri’s waist, kissing up his neck to his cheek, before placing his chin on his shoulder, “What are we doing?”
“A TikTok trend,” Pedri answers, kissing the side of Ferran’s nose and separating them, finally satisfied with the angle he found.
“TikTok? Are we dancing?” Ferran asks, suspicious, but lighthearted, as Pedri starts positioning their bodies so they’re in the frame.
“Absolutely not,” Pedri places Ferran in front of him, at arms length. Almost instinctively, Ferran takes a step forward, trying to bring them close enough to touch. Pedri does smile at that — it’s very Ferran to not want to be distant if he can help it. Still, he pushes Ferran, hands against his chest, and his boyfriend goes easily, even if he’s pouting. “We can cuddle on the couch once we’re done, alright?”
That does light Ferran up, who relaxes his body and asks, “What do I have to do?”
Pedri smiles to himself — he loves having a whipped boyfriend who melts at the idea of them spending time together. “Put the sleep mask on.”
Ferran obeys immediately and Pedri waves a hand in front of him to make sure he can’t see. When his boyfriend doesn’t react, Pedri leans to start recording the video, pressing the button.
“Okay, Ferri, are you ready?” Pedri asks, and Ferran nods eagerly, hands twitching against his side. “So, have you seen this trend on TikTok?”
Ferran shakes his head, still smiling enthusiastically.
“It’s a test to see if you know me,” Pedri teases and, predictably, Ferran’s demeanour shifts.
“I know you better than anyone,” Ferran says, final, with a competitive tone in voice.
“Alright, let’s see it,” Pedri pauses, dramatically, just to tease his boyfriend further. “You have to kiss me, on the lips, without putting your hands on me. To see if you know where my lips are even blindfolded.”
“Okay,” Ferran says, an expression Pedri knows very well on his face, even without seeing his eyes — it’s the one he sees next to him every match day as they’re in the tunnel getting ready to walk onto the pitch, the one that means ‘game on’.
Ferran starts leaning down, getting closer and closer, and Pedri giggles a little to himself. Ferran has his lips slightly parted, and, when he makes contact, ends up mostly taking Pedri’s upper lip into his mouth. He corrects himself, crashing their lips again and Pedri feels more than he sees Ferran holding himself back from reaching out his hands to touch him.
Pedri smiles into the kiss, keeping his own hands by his sides and, to his credit, Ferran tries to deepen the kiss without pressing them closer. When it doesn’t work, Ferran whines and Pedri, satisfied with how torturous he has been, brings his own hands up to his boyfriend’s hair, locking them in place together.
Ferran moans, arms immediately wrapping around Pedri’s waist, pulling him in, then moving a hand to his jaw, now successfully deepening their kiss. When they pull apart, Ferran keeps kissing him on the cheek, the nose and the forehead, then moving down to his jaw and neck, sleep mask ticking Pedri’s skin, which he reaches out to remove.
“I’m pretty sure you were promised a reward,” Pedri whispers as Ferran still has his face buried against his neck. Ferran lights up at that, standing up straight and starting to move them towards the couch. Pedri resists weakly, saying, “Ferri, wait. The phone.”
Ferran pauses momentarily, but drags Pedri along anyway, placing a hand on his bicep and sitting him down on the couch. “I’ll get it. Don’t move.”
He starts walking backwards, as if Pedri will disappear into thin air if he’s out of his eyesight. Pedri giggles, leaning back against the cushions, Roma jumping up to join him. Ferran rejoins them so fast, Pedri is worried he may have injured himself in the process.
“Here,” Ferran says as soon as he sits down, before stripping himself of the hoodie Pedri had brought him — a black one with ‘Barça’ written in cursive on the chest. He pulls it over Pedri's head, who finishes dressing himself as Ferran pulls both of them down, Pedri's head on his chest.
“I love you,” Pedri says, heart full of appreciation for his boyfriend.
Ferran smiles down at him, kisses the top of his head and whispers back, “I love you too.”