***

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sophadiaz: home 🫶
tagged: clarissaadiaz
📍 Sevilla, Andalusia

liked by katherineadams, siramartinezc,
pedri, and others

***

It had been a fairly short visit back home. Fairly. Sophia drove from Barcelona back home to Sevilla not long after Katherine and John hopped on the plane back to Manchester the next day, which ended up being around one in the afternoon that Friday. She got home in time for her baby sister to wake up from her nap, to pick up Matthias from school and subsequently pick up Clarissa from her training at the Real Betis academy. They knew Sophia was coming home, but neither expected her to come pick them up. It had been a bigger surprise for Sophia's dad Vincent, who was told by Maria, Sophia's mother, that his eldest wouldn't be returning till the weekend. Surprise, Vince.

Sophia remained at home for around 10 days, driving home the second Monday that approached. It was nice, because she got to meet some of her mates from high school in amidst her week of relaxing. None of her friends had moved to Barcelona after high school. Most of them stayed in Sevilla, a couple moved to Madrid or Valencia; it was one of the sadder parts about leaving home, because she lost touch with them as she got busy with her own course.

It definitely hit very close to home when Sophia realised all the time she'd miss in seeing her baby sister grow up. It was different with Matthias and Clarissa; he was nine, she was almost seventeen. For the most part she's been there to watch them grow up, and she would continue to do so. Even then, it's different with a baby, because Rosie constantly changed. She went home the spontaneous weekend — to make sure little Rosie won't forget her eldest sibling — but all that time in between still remained, and Sophia did her utmost to make up for it whenever she was home.

It's another thing she's wholeheartedly grateful to Sira for. The Andalusian was always made to feel at home with the Enrique family, whether that was Luis Enrique himself, Sira's mother or her brother, Pacho. It brought the two families—the Enrique's and the Adams-Díaz's—together too. Because Sophia was her parents' firstborn, and anyone who took care of her was near enough family for Sophia's parents.

(It also gave any member of the Enrique clan the rights to join in on any Adams-Díaz family dinners, which happened to fall on the night before she went back to Barcelona. The dinner that celebrated a key member of the Adams-Díaz family—Katherine—winning the Premier League, as well as the end of Sophia's first year at university. And also a good luck celebration, since Luis Enrique and Spain would start playing in World Cup qualifiers in the coming weeks.)

"Hola, cariño," the voice of Luis Enrique filled Sophia's ears. Currently on her break at work, at the supermarket she cashiered at, a half-eaten chicken sandwich on the table in the break room.

"Buenas dìas, Tío Luis," Sophia greets the Spanish national team coach. "Everything alright? Were you looking for Sira?"

"No, actually, cariño," says Luis. "I spoke to Sira this morning, and I know you're at work. Do you have a spare moment? I know we saw one another just a few days ago, but I was hoping to ask you something."

"You've caught me at a good time, Tío." She says. "I'm on break just now. What's up?"

"Well... word has gotten around that you and a certain footballer had a run-in a couple weeks ago. One that I happen to be in charge of on a national-basis."

"Um," says Sophia.

"Yeah. I assume you know which one I'm talking about?"

"Pedri, I am assuming, Tío." She confesses—confesses?—with a grimace.

"Indeed," says Luis Enrique. "Pedro Gonzàlez."

"I hope I'm not being given in trouble here. We just met—"

"Cariño, it's okay," says the older man. "This isn't me getting you into trouble. I don't need the whole story either, that's between you two."

"Um," says Sophia. "Okay. What's the matter then?"

"I know you're both young, and young people like to have their fun, but I don't know what is going on between you two. The Spanish media, the group so intently following this rising-footballer don't know what is going on either."

"Right," remarks Sophia.

"My point is, I was able to find out that you two were together. And that you even follow each other on Instagram now. If I could find out, the media could too. And I know you are perfectly capable of handling yourself, and so is he. But the media... well, they're not as open as me, giving both of you a phone call to check in. They like to jump to conclusions."

"Yeah."

"I just want you to be careful, cariño." Luis clears up. "Because you are very special to me, and he is a very special boy too. If anything was going on between you—"

"Um—"

"Which I'm not saying it is," Luis clears up, again. "Nothing as petty as the media should get in the way. Which it has done for many relationships in the past. Even in stages as early as being seen in his car."

"Of course, Tío." Sophia agrees. "Thanks for calling me. And not getting me into trouble. I appreciate it."

"I would never you into trouble for maybe liking a player I was in charge of, cariño," Luis laughs. "Sira, on the other hand, would be a different case."

Sophia almost chokes on her own breath.

Clears her throat...

"Yeah, totally get that," she nods along the phone line.

"If you're in the mood to tell me, however..."

Sophia laughs. "What was I doing in his car, you mean? We met at the club the night before. I fainted, he took me to A&E. The next day he saw I left my purse in his car, he had my number, so he brought it to me. And gave me a lift. That's it, Tío."

"He's a kind lad," Luis remarks, in thought. "Are you okay now? Was Sira with you at the club?"

"I'm okay, Tío. And she was. I think that was the main reason Pedri gave us a lift. Because they recognised one another, and he knew you'd kick his ass if he just left us there to get a cab home." Sophia made sure to leave out the part about Ferran...

"Kicking his ass is a light way to put it," Luis scoffs. "He'd become target practice for the entire training session."

"Stop bullying your players, Tío," Sophia sighs.

"That's as good as stripping me of my job," Luis jokes.

She asks, "How do you know about me and Pedri being together at that time, Tìo Luis?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," she can hear Luis grinning as he avoided the answer. "I forgot to say, I'm so happy you agreed to extend your lease with Sira. I can tell out of all the flatmates she's had, you're her favourite."

Sophia smiles. "Gracias, Tío. I owe a lot of thanks to you both and your family for treating me like one of your own. It means everything to me and my parents."

"Cariño, you are one of us." Luis says, "I won't take up any more of your break time. You will be coming to see Spain in the Euros in a few weeks time, right?"

"Of course, Tío. I'll be squeezing between Scotland and Spain for a good few weeks, but I'll be there. Sira has our tickets all booked."

"That's right, Scotland's in the Euros this time round, too."

"First tournament in 22 years," Sophia grins. "Looking forward to it."

"Me too, cariño. I'll chat later. Need to give Pedri a call now."

Sophia raises an eyebrow. "You're kidding?"

"You know me, Sophia. I don't like jokes. Need to get this boy's intentions with you cleared out."

"Tío," Sophia groans, because she knew there was no getting out of this. Poor Pedri.

"Adiós, Sophia," Luis laughs.

"Adiós, Tío."

Luis had timed the ending of his call perfectly, because her colleague Enzo had just came in asking if they could swap so he could take his break. Sophia said sure, as much as she didn't want to leave the break room, because she wasn't thinking, because all she could think about was her roommate's dad and the fact that she was now involved with one of his players and he was Pedri. It wasn't a secret, because other people like the doctor and the nurses at the A&E saw Pedri with her and the guy at the bike shop clearly saw her too. It wasn't a secret, by any means, but she just didn't want Enrique to have found out because... she was his daughter's flatmate and he was Pedri's boss. And now he thinks something is going on between them...

Well.

She's not in denial that Pedri had helped her out in a situation where most people would ignore her, and where previously they had... almost flirted, because he bought her a drink, and they talked, and that was it.

She's not in denial either that he's a young, single footballer who asked her if her Real Betis joggers belonged to her boyfriend...

Which, as she'd cleared up, it wasn't. She was as much a young, single student as he was a young, single footballer.

A cute, young, single footballer who'd bought her a drink and escorted her home from the club and brought her the purse she forgot in her car.

(Yes, Sophia thinks Pedri's cute.)

"Break room's all yours, Enzo," the Andalusian hops off her seat, heading back into the main supermarket as she retied her burgundy apron around her waist.

And her mind, now that it was surrounded by all these vegetables and cooking ingredients in her workplace, redirected back to Pedri - and Ferran - because they were coming round for dinner tonight.

(She messaged Pedri on Tuesday, yesterday. Realising it was almost two weeks since she told Pedri she'd make him and Ferran dinner. And she meant it, so told him to keep Wednesday night free. Tonight.)

She needed to grab ingredients for dinner. But that was something that could wait for when her shift at three.

***

Sira had a day off from training that day and so got a head start on cleaning the flat before the guests arrived. She'd also started the parts of the cooking that didn't require the help of Sophia and her trusty staff discount to bring home the rest of the ingredients. When she came home after work it all came together, because living with one another for almost an entire year had helped them become a well-oiled machine when it came to cooking for one another.

"Your father called me today," Sophia brings up, carrying a pile of plates to the dinner table, aromatic cooking lingering in the air.

"Did he now?" says Sira. "What for?"

"To interrogate me," says Sophia, then, on seeing the startled wide-eyes from Sira, redirects. "I'm joking. Sort of. He was asking me about what happened with Pedri. The man found out I was in his car, somehow. And he wouldn't say how either. Your dad is sketchy."

"That does not surprise me," says the Catalonian. "I have known him all twenty-one years of my life and he remains to be a mystery throughout."

"Yeah, well... he didn't try to make anything out of me being in Pedri's car, but he did pretty much say he's game with me having feelings for a player on his squad, but that it's a different story for you..."

Sira frowns. "What are you saying?"

"Well... I know we talked about it already, but I did see some thing of a look between you and Ferran that night. Like, a "holy fuck we could cut the tension with a laser" kind of look."

"Sophia, more than anything that night, I was just pissed that he was careless enough to give you a concussion and endanger his chances of playing in the national team. He has a responsibility that he thought he could forget for a little while just because his club won the Premier League."

"Well, as much as he's an athlete, he is human still, Saz." Sophia reminds. "If I can let loose two days before an important exam, Ferran celebrating after a mega achievement is not so bad. And as the person he hurt in doing so, I'd say we can let him off for it. And address the fact that you and him had a moment, and that you're okay with him coming for dinner at your flat."

"Our flat," corrects Sira. She shrugs. "Pedri's his best friend, he keeps him in line. I always travel with my dad and the national team. Being in his company has never been an issue. Besides, seeing as you two are newly-besties, too, it seems a given. It's just dinner."

Sophia nods. "Got it."

"What about you?"

Frowning, Sophia asks, "What about me?"

"Well..." Sira continues, "It's just dinner for me. Is it just dinner for you?"

"I mean, yeah, of course. It's a thank you more than anything, because I felt that after everything he did for me, just saying thank you wasn't enough. And I assume he'd be good company, too. Him and Ferran. Why would you think it's any more than that?"

"Because while me and Ferran might have had a moment—"

"So you do admit it!"

"Yes, okay, I do, now hush." Sira tells Sophia, "While we had a single moment, you and Pedri had many, and that was just in the times I was there. I'm just saying. It's okay if you fancy him, or something."

"Noted," says Sophia, not elaborating on the matter any more.

The buzzer rung a little after quarter past six. Sophia had told Pedri and Ferran to come around six, so she knew it was them when the buzzer from downstairs had alerted their flat.

"You got it, Soph?" Sira yells from the other end of the flat.

"Yep!" Sophia returns, pressing the button that accepts people into the block of flats. After making sure everything was ready for their guests, she'd returned to her room to put on an olive-coloured sundress, white ankle socks and a white cardigan. Fluffy slippers too. Sira joined her quickly after, dressed herself in a cropped blue tank and cream-coloured slacks.

There's a knock on the door, and Sophia opens it.

"Hola!" The first to come into view was Ferran, who moved in to give Sophia a friendly embrace.

"Hola," Sophia smiles, watching as Ferran also gave Sira a light hug. Back in the doorway, Pedri was walking in too, a bright grin on his face.

"Hey, Verdiblanco," he says, hugging Sophia.

"Hola, Pedri," Sophia returns, totally not caught off-guard by his hug because they live in Spain and it's literal common courtesy. Everyone and their mum hugs you when they come into your house. It's not a big deal, Soph.

"How's it going?" Sophia asks. "I'm so sorry it's taken weeks before I actually reached out to you about tonight."

"Don't be," the Canarian brushes off after embracing Sira. "You were busy at home. How was Sevilla?"

"Amazing," Sophia grins. "I'll tell you over dinner."

"The ankle's looking much better," Sira says to Ferran.

"It doesn't take much to drag me away from action, Sira," says Ferran. "I'll be back in time for the Euros, doctors are saying."

"As long as you don't pull a stunt like you did a few weeks ago, we're good."

"I had one drink—"

"Let's eat dinner before someone causes an uproar," Sophia urges them away from the conversation.

Sira led then into the kitchen-slash-dining room, as Ferran tells the girls, smirking, "We would have gotten here earlier but someone couldn't decide which Palm Angels T-shirt he wanted to wear."

"And you settled on this one?" Sophia saw a pale yellow t-shirt on Pedri—Palm Angels— paired with denim shorts. Pedri nods, and Sophia says, "It looks good on you."

"I try," he returns. Sophia didn't see the slight grin playing at his lips at her compliment. "Oh, this is for you both."

Pedri places a gift bag with a bottle of wine—presumably—on the counter.

"Gracias, Pedri," says Sira, everyone sliding into their seats at the dining table, Sophia and Sira on one side, Ferran and Pedri at the other. "Hope you guys like steak — we weren't sure on what to make so went for something semi-universal."

"Steak's perfect, it looks incredible," says Ferran, eyeing the king prawn tempura starter. "Where did you guys learn to cook like this?"

"My dad's a chef with his own restaurant back home in Sevilla," says Sophia. "He had me and my sister learning in the kitchen at home at a really young age and even before I moved I served a few years at the restaurant waitressing and KP-ing a lot."

"What's KP?" Pedri asks.

"Washing dishes, preparing ingredients, basically doing all the dirty work for the chefs," Sophia grins.

Ferran looks at the older girl. "What about you, Sira?"

"You know my dad, Ferran," she replies, "He'd never let his daughter move out without having some form of cooking expertise."

"That does sound a lot like Lucho," Ferran laughs. "Speaking of managers, actually. Your cousin, Sophia."

"God," says Sophia, "What's Katherine done now?"

"I think the likely situation is what has Ferran done, now," Pedri sniggers in response.

"Ay, watch it, you!" says Ferran to Pedri. The older boy laughs as he says, "She's not done anything. I was just wondering how the whole you and Sira and Katherine and how this all ties in with one another, you and Sira living together too."

"Oh, you mean how are me and Katherine cousins?" Sophia begins. "Well, years ago Nana Lucie and Grandad Shaun fell in love and gave birth to two kids, Andrew and Maria. Maria fell in love with Vincent and so one day I was born, while Andrew met Katherine's mother — may her soul rest in peace — and voila, cousins."

"Okay," says Ferran, a begrudging smile on his face; Sophia was grinning, while Pedri and Sira had completely burst into laughter. "Not exactly the answer I was looking for, but it's welcomed."

"I'm joking," says Sophia. "Not about that—it's all entirely true, but... well, Katherine was partly the reason I ended up in this exact place in Barcelona. She's been and done and seen so much at her age of twenty-two. But because of her being co-managers with Guardiola, who obviously knows Sira's dad from their Barcelona days and there was some mad loop of interchanging information between Lucho and Guardiola and Kat about me and Sira looking for a flat—flatmate, in Sira's case. How's that for you?"

"Not bad," Ferran grins as he cuts up a potato.

Drizzling aioli over her salad, Sira asks, "How are you liking Barcelona, Pedri?"

"It's everything I imagined it to be, Sira," says Pedri. "The club of my dreams. It's not been the easiest road or easiest year, but I've had many enjoyable moments and know it's just the start. Missing out on the league title was rough but winning the Copa del Rey made up for it."

"Where was it you played for before Barcelona, Palmero?" asks Sophia.

"Las Palmas," he answers, lifting his glass. "I was there for two years — I had actually been signed for Barcelona a year into my time at Las Palmas, but the clause set in the contract meant I wasn't a Barca player till August 2020. So, last season."

"That's really cool," says Sophia. "And now you're playing in the Euros."

"And now I'm playing in the Euros." Pedri repeats, smiling. "Will you be coming? Sira, you obviously will be, as coach's daughter, right?"

"You got that right, Pedro," Sira grins. "I believe I'm on the same flights as the players, which will be interesting. As it usually is. Soph, you're..."

"In the midst of it all," Sophia answers. "Since both my countries are in the tournament this time round. Scotland and Spain. I'm going to the two group stage game with Scotland at home against Czech Republic and Croatia which is the 14th and 22nd this month... my friends from university will be coming for a short visit too. I'm planning on coming back for Spain versus Poland hopefully. And, well, as much as I adore my second country, Scotland has never been too lucky internationally... Spain have a better chance of qualifying, so hopefully can grab some knockout game tickets."

"I hope you're right about that, Sophia," Ferran laughs.

"Me and you both."

Somewhere into the dinner Pedri gets to his feet, brushing the crumbs from his person. "Er—I need to go to the bathroom."

"Yeah, no worries," says Sophia, getting up herself, "I'll show you where it is."

"Try not to get lost, both of you," Sira calls out, smirking. Sophia flips her off in return as she walks away with Pedri, seeing an identical look on Ferran's face.

"It's just in there," Sophia motions towards a door on the right in her flat's hallway.

Pedri smiles and says, "Gracias."

Knowing he probably wouldn't get lost going the small distance from the toilet back to the dining room, Sophia went to head back to her previous spot, when she heard her distinct ringtone coming from her room. She went in and saw it was a call from her little sister, Clarissa. She answered it, after deciding that Sira and Ferran could use a little more time on their own. It might be a Clarissa-emergency for all she knew.

But it turns out, the Real Betis academy player was just in desperate need of some biology notes after skipping her last class. And who better than her big sister studying biology who has every single past paper, notecard or cheat sheet scanned and saved in folders on her laptop.

"I'll email them to you," Sophia chuckles, Clarissa ending the call with her immense thanks. She hoped not to use her laptop for another month at least post-exams, but this definitely was a Clarissa-emergency, she thought as she rummaged through the folders on her laptop.

There's a knock on her door.

Sophia looks up from her position, seated on her bed with one leg trailing the ground. Pedri was standing at her door.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," he replies with a smile. "Your door was slightly open and I thought I saw you... Everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good, thanks," Sophia chuckles. "Got summoned for sister duties. Clarissa needed some help for school."

"I can relate to Clarissa a lot," Pedri laughs. "I was always the one to call on Fernando for his big brotherliness."

"It's what the older siblings are there for, I guess," Sophia shrugs. She smiles. "Wouldn't have it any other way. I'm sure Fernando is the same."

"Possibly," he replies. "We're literally always together. Whenever I'm not training or with mates, I'm with him. I don't know how I would've survived life without him, but it's like you said. It's what older siblings are for."

Sophia nods, finding it sweet. How close Pedri and his big brother were. "When you moved from Las Palmas to Barca... did your family come with you?"

"Yeah," says Pedri. "We all moved here. My parents, Fernando and myself. They've been a big part of my footballing journey and they felt it was the right thing to make the move too, and it's helped with adjusting to the new life a lot more." Pedri's eyes travel throughout Sophia's bedroom. "Nice room you have here. Is that... that's Clarissa, right?"

He was standing at her photo board, filled with pictures of Sophia, her family, her mates from Sevilla and Barcelona. Plenty with Katherine. Pedri currently pointed at one picture. Clarissa, decked in her muddy, grassy green-and-white kit was at the centre of it all; crowded by Sophia, Matthias, their parents. Sophia held little Rosie in her arms as they all smiled adoringly into the camera, a shining silver trophy on the ground in front of them all.

"Yeah," Sophia answers fondly. "It was taken earlier this year, when the Real Betis girls youth team won the Supercup."

"That's incredible," he remarks.

There's pictures of Sophia in the football grounds in Scotland; in Hampden Park for Celtic's League Cup final, in the famous Celtic Park itself, within the Estadio Benito Villamarìn. Even in Wembley, a picture of Sophia with Katherine when City won the Carabao Cup.

Pedri grins. "Leo."

There was one in the corner, a printed out picture of Lionel Messi at Barcelona shaking hands with Scott Brown of Celtic.

"The one and only," Sophia says. "It was when Celtic played Barca back in 2016. In the Champions League."

"I see you've already met one of these captains," he says, referring to picture pinned below that one, where a very young Sophia Adams-Dìaz met one of her club's most iconic captains, Scott Brown.

"Indeed," she grins. "Meeting Messi would be the icing on the cake. Imagine that picture beside it. You've, of course, had plenty of chances to play with the man, right?"

"Yeah," Pedri smiles bashfully. "Probably one of the highlights of being at Barca. Leo has taught me so much in the time I've been here, and it's barely been a year. It's unreal how wise and humble the man is, for all the attention he gets."

Pedri remains looking at the picture board a little longer. He turns around, leaning lightly on the edge of Sophia's desk. "I have to say, Verdiblanco," he starts. "It's nice to see you without there being some sort of emergency involved."

Sophia laughs lightly. "Definitely. A hundred percent, I'm the same. I've loved having you and Ferran both over tonight."

"I've loved being here and—well, considering the fact he can't keep his eyes off of Sira—I think Ferran has too." Pedri adds, "Oh, and you two do not give each other enough credit for the food. It was fantastic, you'd seriously give your dad a run for his money."

"Flattered, but... you've not tried his food yet, Palmero," says Sophia.

"Now you have me intrigued," says Pedri. "Next time I'm in Sevilla, I'll have to pay the restaurant a visit."

"Let me know, and I'll make sure I'm waitressing that day."

Pedri nods. "Done."

Lifting herself from her bed, Sophia says. "We should probably head back. Before Ferran and Sira get suspicious."

"Yeah, totally," Pedri agrees. "But let's be honest. They'll be too engrossed in one another to notice."

"I am so glad I'm not the only one who's noticed something between them two."

"You kidding me? The tension's so thick you could slice it with a knife."

Sophia and Pedri re-enter the dining room to see Sira and Ferran setting up the Nintendo Switch on the TV a short stretch away.

"Did you guys actually get lost?" Sira smirks. "Come join us, Ferran thinks he's better than me at Mario Kart."

"I don't think I'm better than you, Martinez, I know I'm better than you." Ferran replies.

"Football might be your sport, Torres, but Mario Kart is mine. You should learn to stick to your own lane."

"Not in this game I won't!"

"Come, guys," says Sira. "Ferran Torres if you take Metal Mario away from me I will make sure my dad removes you from the Euros squad."

Pedri gives a low whistle. "That is a new low from Sira."

"It doesn't surprise me," Sophia laughs. "We both get very serious in Mario Kart. It's our nightly battle."

"I can tell," he chuckles.

"You fancy a bit of Mario Kart, then?"

"I... why not?" Pedri smiles, then paves the way in front of him with his hand. "After you, princesa."

***

this did not end up the way i wanted it to🥲💔

however

ARGENTINA ARE WORLD CHAMPIONS😭🫶✨💓🇦🇷💙🫶🫶🫶😭💙✨✨✨💓💓💓

somos campeones del mundo 💓💓💓💓

messi is a world cup winner. holy fuck it still doesn't feel real

TATTOO THIS INTO MY BRAINS RN.

anyways. hope u all enjoyed that and enjoyed the world cup! wish it wasn't over fr. i'm off to bed goodnight angels