Work Text:
Gavi was bored. He sat in the passenger seat, chewing gum, scrolling through short videos on his phone while he waited for his boyfriend to come back. The first one that came up was Pedri. A few seconds in, he realised he'd already seen everything the algorithm was throwing at him — all repeats. In the video, Pedri finished his dance routine, and then the car was quiet again. Gavi checked the time. Pedri had been gone over thirty minutes. He frowned and looked out the window. No one on the street was walking his way.
He swiped to the next video. A fan edit, clips from training. Gavi let out a small laugh. There they were on screen, touching constantly, bright and easy with each other. The boredom started to lift. Then his eyes caught the title: Gavi always goes to Pedri, but Pedri never comes to him.
Something about his own smile shifted. He felt it happen. He pressed his teeth together, suddenly aware of the cold air in the car. The gum stuck to the dry inside of his mouth. He replayed the video, slower this time. Every clip told the same story: he was the one reaching out. Pedri almost never closed the distance first.
Before he could stop it, his mind went back to the way Pedri held him at home. The soft look in Pedri's eyes when he looked at him. The way his hands settled easy around Gavi's waist, their warmth bleeding through layers of fabric. At first, Gavi used to adjust himself for those hugs — let his waist go soft, drop his shoulders completely, everything arranged so his head could fit right under Pedri's chin. But as the hugs became routine, there was still one thing he never stopped doing with the same deliberateness as the first time: tilting his chin up just enough to brush the tip of his nose against Pedri's jaw.
He was still sunk deep in the sweetness of it when the next video autoplayed and pulled him out. He spat the gum into a tissue, his mouth drier than before. Pedri rarely touched him in public. Gavi chose to believe that was just a fact, nothing more. He lifted his head and searched the street through the window again, restless.
Pedri was almost at the car door. He had the same smile on his face from when he left. He tapped the glass.
"Gavi."
Through the window, his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.
The door opened. Pedri climbed in, reached down for the water bottle by his feet, and drank. "It's hot out this afternoon," he said, shaking out his T-shirt. He tapped the smart display to check around the car.
A few seconds later, the car was moving. Pedri's eyes were on the road ahead when something registered — not quite right. He glanced over at Gavi. "You want something to drink?" His hand came across and settled on Gavi's thigh. The muscle under his palm tensed, then let go.
Gavi stopped himself from crossing his arms. That might shift his body just enough to pull his leg away from Pedri's hand, and he didn't want that. He liked the weight of it. The warmth.
"No. You, what — didn't drink enough back there?"
At the sound of his voice, Pedri's hand tightened. He checked the road, fighting the urge to turn his head. He couldn't look at Gavi. Not yet. Then he let his grip go soft again and gave Gavi's thigh a light pat through his shorts before resting his hand back where it was, fingers firm. His lips pressed together.
Gavi stared out the window. The world outside seemed to slow down, then nearly stopped.
"Gavi. Talk to me. What's going on?"
Pedri's voice. Gavi knew that tone — patient, open, ready to take whatever came. Pedri had to be looking at him. Nothing else could make him feel so steadily held.
He pulled out his phone, leaned toward Pedri, and found the video. Pedri watched it under that gaze. Frowned. Watched it again. Then a third time. He reached over and hit pause.
"Gavi. Right there. That one — I'm the one putting my arm around you."
He didn't wait. He took the phone out of Gavi's hands, set it aside, and pulled him in. Gavi didn't resist. He let himself go slack in the hold.
"Gavi."
Pedri breathed out. His arms wrapped around Gavi like something that grew there. Gavi paused, then brought his hand up to rest on Pedri's arm.
"Why don't you ever… during training. Why don't you ever come to me first?"
Pedri heard the question and felt it, directly, like a hand reaching into his chest. Something hollow opened up around his heart and pressed against his lungs. He took a small breath, turned his head, and kissed Gavi's hair.
"Because once I start touching you, sweetheart," he said, low and slow, "I don't know how to stop."
Gavi's fingers dug into Pedri's arm. He drew a sharp breath, the sound of it rushing past Pedri's ear.
Pedri felt him try to pull away. He let him go, but he wouldn't let him retreat all the way back to the passenger seat. Instead he took his hand. Their cheeks were close now, almost touching.
"Pepi. Tomorrow I want you to come to me first."
Gavi said it and moved in again. Pedri could almost smell the complicated scent of his boyfriend, and he closed the distance further, until Gavi went shy and turned his head just slightly away.
"As you wish." Pedri kissed the small patch of skin beneath Gavi's eye, felt his breathing quicken under the reassurance. "But no kissing. Absolutely not."
Gavi shifted, restless, remembering the way the cameras had gone quiet around them once at training as they stared at each other and drifted closer. That silence — the kind that couldn't be caught on film — had made him realise, in an instant, what they were doing.
"Fine. I'll follow the rules." Gavi grinned. "But you have to touch me. On your own. And not just a few times."
His eyes held a particular brightness in Pedri's unfocused gaze, and Pedri found himself smiling along with him.
"Where do you want me to touch you? How many times?"
Pedri asked it low, and watched Gavi's brow furrow.
"At least five. Not one less. And you have to touch my face or it doesn't count."
He sounded serious. Earnest. Like they were discussing a match. Pedri laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. He couldn't stop loving this boy.
"You're a tyrant." He said it like a complaint, but Gavi's hand was already squeezing back between his fingers.
"And you love me most."
"Yeah. I love you most."
The next day at training, something strange settled over the squad. By the time Pedri crossed the pitch to get to Gavi for the ninth time, almost everyone standing near them had instinctively shifted their feet, widening the distance between themselves and the couple.
Gavi noticed. He moved at once to push Pedri's hand away, but Pedri only held him tighter, the sides of their heads pressed together.
"One more. I haven't touched your face yet." Pedri said it quietly, his fingers tracing along Gavi's waist.
Gavi thought to himself that he was never going to ask Pedri to do this again.