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Gavi doesn’t hate Ferran Torres.
No, really, he doesn’t. The forward is a good friend and teammate for him, a bit of a jokester at times, and always optimistic no matter how cruel the Spanish media might criticize him. Not to mention that he’s so effortlessly alluring, with dark hair framing his handsome face, a charming smile, a pair of toned arms wrapped around Pedri’s body…
Okay, that last part might be a problem.
Approaching them, Gavi quickly yanks Pedri out of Ferran’s embrace. “Stop hogging him,” he hisses.
He expects Ferran to pout or protest at that, but the forward merely pulls his arms back and smiles in feigned innocence. “Please. Pedri and I are friends, and we’re just hugging. I would never do anything out of the line.”
“You would never?? You literally did, last night. And don’t you give me that smile. Do you think that just because I’m only human, I have no idea about what you can do??”
“Last time I remember, you gave your consent for that,” Ferran reminds him, still with the same smile. “Also, Pedri fed from me too, so I’d say we’re even.”
Gavi grits his teeth. He hates being countered, and he hates it more when the person who does that is 100% right.
Ferran is an incubus. Being one, he literally needs to feed from sexual energy to survive. While he’s able to gain sparks of energy by doing things that people usually classify as “thirst traps”, he always needs a big feeding job before every game, usually by doing one of his teammates. And much to Gavi’s chagrin, Ferran has claimed that Pedri tastes the best among everyone he’s ever been with, hence making him Ferran’s favorite “meal”.
Pedri thinks it might have something to do with him being a vampire. Privately Gavi doesn’t think so, since Ferran has slept with Marc (ter Stegen, not Cucurella) before and he didn’t feel the same. But Gavi doesn’t say anything to Pedri about it, nor does he want to know what it might have implied.
Now, even though Gavi loves Pedri and trusts the older man completely, he’s not so sure about what Ferran might do.
He’s snapped out of his reverie by Pedri’s hand squeezing his own. “Don’t be silly, Pablito,” he says with a grin, and something inside Gavi melts. “Ferri and I are just joking around. You needn’t worry about anything. Now I think it’s your turn to stop hogging me, it’s kick-off soon.”
Gavi blushes and quickly releases his grip on Pedri. “Sorry, Pedrito. I got a little…carried away.”
“Yeah,” Ferran chimes in, a wicked grin still plastered on his face. “You hear him, Pablito. And oh, Pedri, good luck for the game.”
And he gives a quick, playful peck on Pedri’s cheek before scurrying away to the bench, leaving Gavi fuming.
-
It’s a tight game from the start. Spain has the better players on paper and presses hard, but Austria certainly won’t let them off so easily. Lamine tests the Austrian keeper in the early minutes and Aymeric heads the ball after receiving a cross from Alex Baena, but nothing comes off them. After that, the game settles down a bit, with Austria foils some of their chances and even challenges them a bit in their area.
Gavi sits anxiously on the bench, nails digging into his seat as he watches the game. He has faith in the team, of course, but the fact that they haven’t managed to score gets on his nerves a bit. And moreover, he’s worried about Pedri, who, being the smallest midfielder on the pitch, gets challenged by the opponents a lot.
As his thoughts float around Pedri, Gavi can feel Ferran’s eyes on him, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that the forward is smirking. With neither of them being picked to start, they’ve had to stay on the sideline, but Gavi has chosen to sit on the front row, as far from Ferran as possible. He kinda regrets it now though, since Meri and Zubi are seated next to him and they’ve been secretly holding hands all the time, and that only makes him miss Pedri even more. Sighing, Gavi leans backwards, hoping that this game won’t go into extra time, or worse, penalties.
On the pitch, Pedri makes a pass to Marc Cucurella who dutifully crosses the ball towards Mikel Oyarzabal. The Sociedad striker wastes no time to smash the ball into the net, giving Spain their first goal.
Gavi’s screams blend into many others as the stadium erupts. Sure, it’s “only” one goal and there is still a long way to go in that game, but it sparks hope inside everyone who supports Spain. And Gavi also makes sure to yell Pedri’s name out loud, though he guesses no one will know except for his fellow benchwarmers.
Sadly, no other goal is created until half time, though Alex manages to rattle the bar from a free kick and Lamine finds his shot saved, not for the first time. Then the whistle blows, and the players all trudge back into the dressing room.
Not wanting to lose his chance and fearing what Ferran might do, Gavi immediately slides in to sit beside Pedri and offers him a water bottle, which the latter takes with a smile. They then share the drink while Luis walks around the room, praising the players for their first half performance but especially Mikel for the goal. He also addresses the bench players, reminding them that he can decide to sub them in anytime (though Gavi notices how both David and Joan share an eyeroll at that) so they should be alert at all times.
Sooner than Gavi would’ve liked, the half time is over, and the players all return to the pitch, Luis having not made any changes yet. Spain quickly picks up where they left off, dominating possession and controlling the game, but Gavi knows the danger is not out yet, Austria wanting to progress as much as they do.
Then, almost all of a sudden, Spain scores their second goal! It starts with Dani Olmo trying to shoot, only to have the ball find its way to Alex, who sends a lovely cross towards Pedro Porro who then heads the ball into the net. The cheers are almost deafening now, Spain fans almost 100% sure that their team would qualify for the Round of 16. And Luis, definitely feeling that their position is quite safe as well, quickly replaces Alex and Dani with Meri and Ferran.
Austria, faced with the daunting realization that they have to score two now to have a chance at progression, plays with a greater aggression than before, trying to catch any Spain player off guard, until Florian Grillitsch ends up shoving Pedri who’s trying to take a quick free-kick.
There are shouts and yells all around, including ones from the bench, but it’s Ferran who gets to the crime scene before anyone else, shoving Grillitsch back in anger. The ref immediately comes forward, and for a second, Gavi fears that Ferran will actually get carded. Thankfully, much to his relief, the ref lets both Ferran and Grillitsch off with only a warning, and instructs the players to get back to their positions.
Ferran dutifully steps back and reaches out a hand to Pedri to help him stand. Normally, it's nothing too remarkable, footballers do that all the time to help their teammates or even opponents, but Ferran, instead of letting go immediately, lets his hand lingers on Pedri’s a few seconds longer than necessary, thumb brushing against Pedri’s wrist gently.
And, probably feeling Gavi’s eyes on him, Ferran turns around and gives him a smirk.
Gavi’s blood boils instantly, and he’s gripped with a burning desire to stand up and get there to punch Ferran on his pretty face, Spain be damned. But Luis, definitely sensing some murderous intent, quickly shuts him up with a glare and then instructs him to warm up, which he does rather sulkily.
A few minutes later, he comes in to replace Lamine, who looks slightly put out for not being able to score today. He easily falls into the rhythm, passing the ball left and right to keep things ticking. He knows he’s not expected to do anything big except to defend their lead, but then he notices Marc running unmarked past the Austria defence, Mikel trailing not so far away.
In a split second, Gavi makes his decision. He lobs the ball towards Marc, who easily takes it and then sends a sensational pass towards Mikel, who beats the opponent keeper and slots the ball in, delivering the final nail on Austria’s coffin.
And Gavi seizes this chance immediately.
He screams and jumps into Mikel’s arms. Mikel’s face shows a mixture of surprise and delight at that action, but instead of complaining, he allows Gavi to topple him onto the ground, their faces coming very close together and nearly touching, their breaths ghosting against each other’s, Gavi’s fingers brushing his neck ever so gently.
And Gavi makes sure it’s all done within Pedri’s line of sight.
-
The 3-0 score persists until the final whistle, and the game ends with a little celebration for Spain. Not for Gavi, though. Instead of joining his teammates in the festivities, he finds himself inside one of the empty physio rooms in the stadium, being pressed to the wall by Pedri.
“What do you think you were doing?” the older midfielder hisses, grabbing Gavi by the collar.
Gavi blinks innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pedri lets out a low growl, and Gavi fights back a smirk. One of the perks of having a pair of big brown eyes and childlike face is that he can use them to appear as guileless as he wants, and he knows it irks people who are closest to him, especially his boyfriend. Pedri might not be that big, but he’s still a vampire, and his true physical strength still surprises Gavi sometimes. And oh, does he enjoy it!
“You and Mikel,” Pedri hisses. “Feeling each other on the pitch. Do you think I couldn’t see that?? Everyone sees that, and now people will think there’s something between you and him. Have you forgotten that you’re mine and mine only??”
“How about you and Ferran?” Gavi shoots back, and smiles in satisfaction at the slight guilty look flashing inside Pedri’s eyes. “You let him be all over you today, correction, for a few months already, at least. If you want to talk about people, you and Ferran literally provide everyone with similar content all the time, and you’re complaining about Mikel and I?”
He half-expects Pedri to respond hotly, claiming that he and Ferran are just friends and so forth, but the older midfielder instead looks defeated all of a sudden, his shoulders slumping. “You…you have been jealous about Ferran and I?”
“…Yes?” Gavi responds rather hesitantly, a little unsure of what this might lead into. “I mean…I thought you knew already, since I have mentioned how you’ve been spending too much time with him… And I understand that he’s your best friend and all, but…”
Gavi’s words are cut short because Pedri has crashed his lips onto his own. Smiling, Gavi kisses him back, grabbing Pedri’s cheeks and runs his fingers through the cold skin, sliding his tongue inside Pedri’s mouth and feeling the sharp fangs on the tip of his tongue…
They only break apart once they run out of air (Gavi mostly, since Pedri is able to hold his breath).
“I’m sorry,” Pedri murmurs, looking slightly awkward but determined. “I really am, Pablito. I have no idea that you…that you feel that way. And I…well, I’m not good at this stuff but I want you to know that I love you and that there’s nothing between Ferran and I and…”
“I understand,” Gavi assures him. “I know as well that Ferran’s your best friend, you enjoy spending time with him and that’s okay. I just want you to remember that you have a boyfriend at home. And probably show him some more love, if you please.”
Pedri’s lips curl into a smirk as he nods, a red flash dancing inside his eyes. “Alright then, Pablito, shall we start tonight? Maybe I can show you how much I love you then?”
A pleasant kind of shiver runs down Gavi’s spine at Pedri’s words, and he nods back vigorously.
And what follows afterwards is the best night Gavi has had in weeks.
