Chapter Text
He was dreaming, he had to be. Only in dreams it never felt this hot balmy humid. The swell of the audience’s screams, punctured his eardrums sharp. Ferran had no idea whether there were five minutes or five seconds left. They would play their all until they were absolutely sure of their victory. His eyes tracked the gleam of the ivory ball, and he passed without hesitation.
The shrill of the final whistle stilled the heaving in his lungs. This was all blissfully real. They had done it. And without volition his body crumpled into the soft grass beneath, kneeling he pressed his forehead against the damp earth. This was real, he had to repeat it like a mantra.
In the moments that followed, he felt himself fade in and out, as if he were an observer. He embraced his teammates, thrumming with the adrenaline of their victory. The buzz of their chants echoed around him, they were chanting his name, pouring their sincerity into his own heart. It may have been his goal but the effort was unanimous, the flesh of their team's body and grit. As bodies piled around, each sound reverberated through his sternum. And still he had to repeat it to himself, this was real.
The celebration seemed to pass like a blur of scarlet around him, his vision clouding. He made his way across the field, he could feel his chest constrict tight, a furl of anxiety twisting in his gut. In the midst of it all he locked eyes with Pedri and he didn’t need to think about it. He launched himself into his open arms. He heaved into the skin at his collarbone, burrowing his face deeper the scent of salt and citrus potent. It was momentary relief from the panic that had been bubbling from within him. Every emotion had grown double fold, anxiety, elation, surprise.
Pedri was murmuring inconsolable words of praise but Ferran could not focus on anything but the warmth radiating off Pedri. For a split second he thought back to an hour ago when they had been anxiously waiting at their bench. In a few minutes they were to be called to get subbed on, and Ferran was anxious out of his mind. His left leg was tapping nervously against the ground. While they had been dominating defensively, keeping possession of the ball, they were still 0-0. With only half an hour till stoppage someone needed to make that decisive goal. Could it be him?
The nagging voice in the back of his head, the one that read through the criticism online berated him. How would he be able to do it? The voice kept pestering, throughout the matches had failed his team and fans so far.
“Ay Ferri, calm down” a warm hand on his knee stilled his frantic movement. “I can practically hear you overthinking from here,” Ferran let out a soft laugh at that. He swung his arm around his friend.
“You’re not any better than me pequeño, you’ve practically bitten your nails off this entire game” he tousled the scruff at the top of Pedri’s hair. Their lighthearted banter always found a way to ease his nerves and mind. Pedri had always had that effect on him.
“No but seriously stop thinking whatever you’re thinking, I already know what it could be about” the younger moved to shush him before he could defend himself. “You got this Ferri, I know you do” Pedri smiled like he always did.
He remembered pulling Pedri close right before stepping onto the field. He needed to press a desperate kiss to the undercut at his skull. For Ferran it was a way to release the tension that threatened to burst out, finding solace in his companion’s presence. Shaking out his limbs one last time he finally ran off onto the green pitch. They were in this together, and they would win together. He needed to believe it.
Now almost an hour and a half later, while wrapped up in the embrace of his teammates he’s brought back to the present. With his arms enclosed around Pedri’s body his heart feels still. He can hear Dani and Eric screaming around him with Borja singing some ridiculous made up chant. He was at home with these dynamic men.
The rest of the ceremony continued the same way, the morale running high through the team. The smiles on the young ones, Pau and Lamine shine, he couldn’t fathom what emotions they must have been feeling. He watched as his team lined up to receive their well deserved consolations. He’s awarded his medal towards the end. Ferran holds it dear to his cheeks, savoring the cool of the metal.
Rodri is clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Hermano, you did it.” He looks so incredibly proud at that moment, so Ferran swallows the lump starting in his throat.
“Ay, no I did it only because of you all. I kicked with the spirit of all the Spanish people” He shrugged it off. Ferran found it still difficult to process the events of the past few hours. The insecurities that had been festering him all season, all the negative comments and criticism were slowly but surely becoming replaced by something sweeter, hope.
Rodri watched him carefully and pulled him close, "Believe in yourself hermano, you’ve made us so proud today”
Ferran contemplated on those words, the warmth of this team, their grit manifesting. When they ascended the stage, it was with Rodri holding up the etched golden trophy gleaming under the light of the sun. Their captain pressed the trophy to his lips and raised it high. The emotions within him threatened to burst out. This was real, he again reminded himself.
He eventually made his way down to take a seat on the edge of the stage, the adrenaline making his world spin. He took the time to scan the crowd, a melting pot of white and powder blue with sprinkling of scarlet. With the weight of the world’s eyes on his teammates they had made their country proud. Warm hands pressed against the crown of his head, ruffling his hair. He peered up, ready to give his unsuspecting teammate an earful for messing his hair up only to be met with familiar warm brown eyes, crinkling at the corners. There was a toothy smile on his companion’s face. He was completely enamored by it. Ferran felt an uncontrollable wave of affection wash over him.
“Pepi,” was all he got out before pulling the man down. He sought out the space between his jaw and collarbone, burying his face close. They had already embraced but it didn’t feel enough. To have this one person by his side, during his highs and lows supporting him no matter the circumstances, Ferran was deeply moved by it. All of his most precious moments, he wanted to share them with Pedri. “Gracias por todo, Pepi” he murmured voice wet with emotion against the shell of the younger man’s ear. He couldn’t resist pressing a firm kiss at the golden skin there.
He felt Pedri pull away from his tight embrace, staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. But he masked it right away, smiling again.
“Don’t thank me old man, we should be thanking you. Ferri you were El Tiburón in the blood and flesh” Ferran pushed at him jokingly, his face flushing. It was still difficult to accept the praise from his teammates but it felt significant coming from Pedri.
There was nothing that could bring down their mood at this moment. This feeling of being the Campeónes would continue until their next tournament as a national team. And even though Ferran couldn’t guarantee his future in four months, much less four years he contemplated.
This team, and Barça they had both been his home for so long he didn’t know how to differentiate them from that feeling of innate belonging. But did he have a place now? He shoved down those anxious thoughts before they could take root too deep.
He would celebrate for now, bask in the glory of his team. Replay the moment he kicked the ball into the net, the swarm of bodies that followed him after. He was once asked by an interviewer to describe the feeling of scoring a goal. And the closest answer he could give was the peak of a climax. Pedri had laughed at that answer, sitting next to him during the interview but truly there was no other way to describe the orgasmic joy that was released from the action.
He has been chasing the high of that moment since it happened.
During their bus ride back to their hotel he was serenaded the entire time. He wasn’t drunk but just a nice level of buzzed from their celebration in the locker room. Dani would not stop teasing him with his name, chanting it like a schoolgirl with a crush. This had apparently been going viral online and while he was thoroughly embarrassed, he was in such a high spirits he couldn’t bring himself to care. After begrudging joining the impromptu karaoke session Borja had dragged him up to, he slumped back into his seat. Pedri was a steady presence beside him. Their arms brushed and Ferran leaned back into him a tiny bit, savoring the light smell of citrus sweet that emanated from Pedri. He was beaming at him with those bright eyes again, crinkling at the corners.
He always felt drawn to Pedri, but the feeling intensified during moments like these. Coming off the high after their victory with adrenaline still bursting through his body, he wanted to press his face into the soft skin at the column of his throat again. It was becoming a habit to seek out his companionship.
“Oh Ferran, what are you daydreaming about?” Pedri nudged his elbow into the side of his ribs, smirking as he darted his tongue out to wet his lips. There was an alluring tilt in the way he mouthed his name, obviously teasing him. Ferran found himself tracking the slight movement. Maybe he was a bit more than just tipsy. He was at a loss for an answer, breath caught in the cage of his throat. The silence had stretched for a beat too long, Pedri had caught on as he shifted away slightly.
“Oh stop not you too,” Ferran brought his palms over his face feigning annoyance. “You’re not allowed to call me like that” Pedri laughed at him, the sound full and bright.
“What? Why not Ferran?” his voice had dropped an octave, the roll of his R’s were a lull at the mouth of his ear. It sent shivers down his spine. It was disconcerting to hear his full name from Pedri’s lips, that must have been why this was affecting him so.
“Just, —just because” Ferran stammered not really having a valid excuse other than ‘it makes me feel weird’. He turned to look at the sly smile on his friend’s face.
“Hmm, just because?” He didn’t seem to buy Ferran’s answer.
“Okay fine it just, it— I don’t know it doesn’t sound right,” he pressed his shoulder against Pedri’s, edging closer to the truth of the matter . “I like it when you call me Ferri,” the words sounded much more intimate out loud than he had expected it would. Another silence stretched between them. Pedri’s soulful expression searching Ferran’s face.
“And please stop teasing me with my name like that horrible audio —please I beg. I’m so tired of it already” Ferran pleaded, breaking the moment. He clutched the younger man’s bicep half jokingly, half seriously. He had added that to save himself the embarrassment of sounding too sentimental over a small matter like a name, and the way it made his gut twist.
“Hmm okay,” he stared Ferran down narrowing his full eyebrows. “You’re acting weird but I’ll stop for you Ferri” Pedri shifted back in his seat going back to scroll on his phone.
Dios he needed another drink. They were interrupted by Mikel and Dani urging them to get up and dance in the cramped isle. Ferran got up, momentarily putting aside his inner turmoil, and loosing himself in the rhythm of the music. He felt a body come up beside him and turned back to find Marcos bringing a cool glass to the side of his face.
“Ayyy drink hermano” Marcos wrapped an arm around his neck, tipping the glass into his mouth. “We drink like kings and party like kings today!” he boasted and Ferran almost choked at his antics. He caught Pedri eyeing him from where he was sitting right under them. His face was tilted upwards, watching them with wide eyes. From this angle his dark lashes fanned out against the tops of his cheeks. Ferran bit his cheek to stop from doing or saying something he’d regret. He instead averted his gaze and swayed against Marcos, closing his eyes and humming to the song playing in the background. Eventually Marcos made his way over to his next victim but not before filling Ferran’s glass up to the top. He winked cheekily at him patting his cheek lightly. “Drink up!”
Ferran shook his head, laughing. He was really in such a good mood, the added effects of the alcohol making everything hazy and warm. Not for the first time and definitely not the last he thought about how this is all felt surreal. Winning La Copa Mundial, winning Euros as a team. He could feel the ache deep in the facia of his muscles start to radiate, the aftermath of the long day catching up to him.
When he went to take a seat again he had finally exhausted himself. He slumped down, leaning into the body next to him. He peeked his eyes open to see Pedri staring at him again, this time frowning slightly. Without the thought, he brought his fingers up to smooth the crease between his brows. “Pequeño smile, it’s our day” before he could hear his response, a yawn stretched across his face and Ferran slumped further, finding place pillowed between the leather seat and his friend’s shoulders. The last thing he remembered before his eyes slipped shut was Pedri muttering something under his breath, it didn’t reach Ferran’s ears but he felt the weight of Pedri’s hand on his thigh.