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sophadiaz: always a pleasure, scotland 💙
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📍 Hampden Park, Glasgow

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***

Sophia wasn't unfamiliar with Estadio Olímpico de La Cartuja by any means. With it being situated in her home city of Sevilla, it was one of the local stadiums; there's been many an El Gran Derbi between Sevilla and Betis, alongside various Betis Copa Del Rey matches. This Sevilla-born girl was no stranger to the chosen Spanish venue for the Euros this tournament.

So, the final group stage matchday of the Euros, Sophia rocked up to the Hospitality Suite within the Olympic stadium, ready with her Spain jersey tucked into frayed grey jeans. It was rare in Spain to see anyone at this time of year even carry a jacket for safe keeping; the sun was blazing out today, which may give some fans watching difficulties inside the stadium, let alone the actual players.

"Soph, I'm gonna fuckin' melt out here," the slightly taller figure beside Sophia complained. It was her younger sister Clarissa, also decked in a Spain jersey, brown hair in french braids. Sira had gotten them both (and their little brother) the latest squad jerseys before the tournament began.

"You spend a few nights in Scotland and you're reset to Spanish weather just like that?" Sophia returns, giving a light chuckle. "I'm the same. Need me a cold drink inside."

"That is how it works, is it not?" says Clarissa. "Body de-acclimatisation or something?"

"Or something." Sophia checks her lanyard with her hospitality pass. The sun blared over the reflective lamination over the ID card, so she had to shade it. "We're over in that turnstile there. T35."

"Can't lie, I'm excited about this hospitality thing," says Clarissa. "Perks of being roommates with the Spain coaches' daughter."

Sophia and Clarissa had gotten off the plane from Edinburgh not even two hours ago. After witnessing Scotland play against Croatia the previous evening in Glasgow, they didn't think they'd be able to get back in time for the Spain game against Slovakia. Sira had reserved them two hospitality spots regardless, which they made their priority to attend today. After spending a few nights at their Uncle Andrew's in Glasgow, they got the bus to Edinburgh airport this morning and made it to Sevilla not long ago.

"Gracias," Sophia told the steward who scanned her and Clarissa's hospitality passes. The two Andalusian's, now inside the hospitality suite, crowded by people all around. This was specifically the suite dedicated to the families and friends of the Spanish national team. So, the only people Sophia could recognise were the two semi-complete families at the one (massive) table. A woman with near-black hair, a young boy and an older boy, an older girl and her mother.

She sends her younger sister a mischievous grin, and walks up to the woman with near-black hair, bouncing a baby on her lap. Sophia stalks up to the table; the older guy had clocked her walking up to them however smirked, not wanting to ruin her fun.

Sophia slaps her hands on the shoulders of the woman with the baby. "How's it going, Mum?"

The woman—Mum, or, Maria Adams-Dìaz—yelped, clutching the baby on her lap for dear life.

"I—who—Sophia?" Maria exclaims in pure horror. "Clarissa, I didn't think you guys would make it."

"Who else?" Sophia grins.

"We literally came straight from the airport," Clarissa answers, taking a seat next to the older boy, Pacho Martìnez. Or, Sira's brother. Sira was one of the ones at the round table too, alongside her and Pacho's mother Elena, Sophia's little brother Matthias and baby sister Rosie.

"We dropped our luggage in the house first," says Sophia. "Then walked over. We're lucky the match hasn't started yet, actually." Sophia notices her mum still frowning after her little scare. "C'mon, Mum, I thought you'd be happier to see us!"

"Not after that stunt," says Maria. "For that, you're on baby duty."

"Mum, you say that like it's a chore."

"Well... Rosie needs burped, so you better get a towel ready for that jersey of yours."

"How are you both, cariños?" Elena asked Sophia and Clarissa. "How was Glasgow?"

"Sunny, for a change," answers Clarissa.

"What did the match end at yesterday?" asks Pacho. "Escocia and Croacia, right?"

"Right," says Sophia. "Croatia won. 2-1 to them."

"No chance of qualifying?" says Sira.

Clarissa sniggers, "Bottom of the group with zero points."

Maria looks at everyone's grimaces and concludes, "It takes a lot of dignity to support Scottish football."

The perks of matchday hospitality meant that alongside having incredible pitch-side seating for when the actual game had begun, they'd get a three-course meal to accompany before the game alongside refreshments and drinks at half-time and full-time. Sophia and Clarissa had missed the soup starter due to their late rushing from the airport however made it in time for the starter of beef burgers and steak-cut fries. Cheesecake for dessert, too. Sophia was slightly in awe at the fact that the families of some of the most famous Spanish players were here — but none more than her little brother, Matthias.

"Soph," Matthias had crouched by her seat after their dessert was served. "Don't look, but Sergio Busquets' family is over there."

Despite his warning, Sophia did look.

Of course she did.

"Dios mio," she breathes, "that is Elena Galera. Even more stunning in real life."

That wasn't what the ten year old was interested in. The bigger fact was that Sergio Busquets was one of his all-time favourite Spanish players ever.

"I also saw Morata's family, Soph," says Matthias.

"You should ask one of the players for their shirt at full-time, Matt," she tells him. "Now's your best chance. Any preference?"

"Kat got me Rodri's City shirt when we went to the their match against Leicester," says Matthias. "Someone different would be cool."

"We'll make sure we try and get you one at full time then, alright?" Sophia grins at her little brother. She asks her mother, "Where's Dad?"

"Couldn't get the day off for the match," Maria answers. "Two of his waiters called in sick."

"Which ones?"

"Marc and Charo."

"They're not sick," Sophia sniggers. "Just football obsessed. Poor Dad."

The match began in the roasting sun, with Spain taking a simple but enjoyable lead in the first half: a Martin Dubravka own goal in the 30th minute and an Aymeric Laporte goal in the final minute of the first half. Things in the second half were smooth-sailing when Pablo Sarabia scored in the 56th minute, the ecstatic Spanish crowd livening up the stadium with their chants and cheers.

Sophia, standing and chanting alongside the other fans, got an easy view of the game from her pitch-side seats. All the other families and friends were in the same box as her; she wondered if Pedri's family were here at all. Not that he knew she would be here today, she didn't even know herself. But she definitely saw him out there enjoying his game, a good one at that.

"Anyone special you're here to watch?"

The question came from the girl on the other side of Sophia (while Sira, Clarissa and the rest of their family crowded in seats around, above and below them). She was brunette with a smiling face and Spain flags painted on her cheek — similar to the ones on Sophia's, after a boy with a paint stamp made their way through the stands.

"Oh, um," begins Sophia, "Nobody in particular, really... I'm a family friend of the manager's. His daughter is my flatmate."

"You share a flat with Sira?" says the girl. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Paula."

"Sophia," she smiles, shaking Paula's hand. "Who are you here to watch?"

"Pau Torres," she grins. "My partner."

"Incredible player," says Sophia.

"Yeah. Hopefully he's brought on in the second half." She asks, "You and Sira stay in Catalonia then?"

"Yeah," says Sophia. "I go to uni in Barcelona so our flat is quite nearby. My actual home isn't far from here, though. Like ten minutes. I grew up in Sevilla."

Sophia has a look at the bench and sees Enrique preparing his substitute. Ferran Torres. She grins, elbowing Sira next to her.

"What?" The older girl frowns.

Sophia smirks in Ferran's direction.

Sira looks, and narrows her eyes at the Andalusian. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"You know what, Soph." says Sira. "I've still not forgiven him for beating me in Mario Kart."

"There's always something you've not forgiven him for," Sophia sighs. "What if he scores a goal in the next minute?"

"I'll consider it."

Ferran comes on, and the ball is in Slovakia's half — the ball is interchanged from Sarabia to Pedri back to Sarabia in amidst opposing players. Inches from the goal, Sarabia passes the ball to Ferran, undefended, he backheels the ball past the keeper and —

"GOAL!"

The crowd were back on their feet again. Sophia had jumped up, throwing her arms around Sira, jumping with joy.

"Holy fuck, Soph," says Sira, exasperated, "how could you have predicted that?"

"My seventh sense," Sophia grins. Really, it was just a pure coincidence. She didn't expect Ferran to actually come on and score in his first minute of play. "You make good on your side of the bargain, now."

The stadium was well and truly roaring at this point. Beside Sophia, Paula looked overjoyed when Pau Torres was subbed on alongside Thiago in the 71st minute; even more so when he dictated the goal that was scored in that very minute, which he would have been able to claim had a Slovakia defender not potted the ball himself in the end.

The match had finished 5-0 to Spain, and it was enough for Spain to qualify through to the round of 16 to play Croatia.

The full time whistle wasn't even enough to silence the ecstatic Spanish crowd. Sophia had been passed her baby sister, who she had bouncing and giggling on top of her shoulders. Little Rosie was born into a family of football fans. This strong crowd noise wasn't something to scare her anymore. Matthias was on Sira's back, waving a massive Spain flag above his head. Clarissa had beaten some twenty-something guy to lead the fan chants at the front of the stands — something she has done many times at Betis games. Pacho, a tall boy, had his arms around his mother and Sophia's, swaying along to the chants.

The players began to disperse among the pitch: celebrating with fans, signing merchandise, swapping shirts with the opposing team. Paula had been swept into the arms of her boyfriend, who jumped over the little barricade that separated the pitch and the stands. Paula introduced him to Sophia, too.

"Mum," calls out Sophia, pulling Rosie over her head and into her arms. "Where's the baby bag? Rosie's got a nappy."

"I've got it," says Maria. "Pass her here. I'll change her."

"You sure?"

"Of course, mi hija," Maria grins. Sophia loves when her mother calls her in Spanish, despite it not being her native language. "You enjoy the celebrations. Be back in a bit."

"Gracias, Mum."

Turning back, Sophia saw Pacho picking Matthias off of Sira's back and lifting him onto his shoulders.

"I'm gonna go see Dad," Sira says to Pacho and Sophia, crawling past them through the stands.

"No worries," says Sophia. "Tell him I said congrats."

"Um, Soph," says Pacho. He was looking behind her, for she was facing away from the pitch. Matthias had a look of pure shock on his face at what awaited behind his eldest sister. "You have a visitor."

The Andalusian girl turns around to and rightfully enough there was a visitor waiting there. A Canarian, in fact. Pedri had spotted her in the crowd and was now standing at the barricade in front of her.

"Hey, you," says Pedri.

"Hey," Sophia grins. "Good game out there."

"Thanks, Verdiblanco," Pedri returns, sweat shining off his forehead. Running a hand through his damp hair. He hadn't swapped his shirt with anyone, Sophia noticed. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Sira got us all hospitality tickets," she explains. "I almost didn't make it in time from the airport. Glad I did."

"Are you here alone?"

"Uh, no," Sophia points over to where her little sister was breathlessly making her way back from her chant-leading. "That's Clarissa there — Sira went to go see Lucho. This is Pacho, her brother and... my little brother, Matthias."

Sophia said that last part with a little grin, because even the fact that Pedri was standing inches from him was enough to send his little brain into a frenzy, let alone the fact a footballer was chatting to his sister.

"Alright, man," Pedri says to Pacho, giving him a fist bump, and then to the little guy on his shoulders. "Hola, pequeñin. It's nice to meet you."

Matthias was too stunned to speak.

"Not a speaker?" Pedri chuckles. "It's alright." He notices Pau Torres and Paula standing there too and turns to his teammate.

As the two footballers talk, Paula turns to Sophia and says, "I thought you weren't here for anyone in particular..." She grins. "You and Pedri seem friendly."

"Um, we..." Sophia begins, but is cut off by her little brother climbing off of Pacho's shoulders.

"Soph, how do you know Pedri?" Matthias tugs on his sister's arm. "Clarissa, she knows Pedri!"

Clarissa had just made her way over back to their seats, sitting down in the seat next to Pacho, who took this chance to lean on the smaller girl's shoulder.

"You know Pedri?" Clarissa repeats, dumbfounded. Trying to swat Pacho off her shoulder but the older guy going back to the same position.

Sophia thinks of how to phrase this. Her little brother and sister are staring at her, and so is Paula, and so is Pacho, all waiting for an answer. Paula and Pacho seemed less concerned than Matthias and Clarissa, who looked adamant for an answer. Especially the former.

"It's a really long story," says Sophia, "but yeah. We are friends."

Paula smiles, Pacho looks impressed, Clarissa is just confused. Matthias, however, says quietly, "Can you..." and trails off before Sophia can grasp what we was asking.

"What was that, Matt?"

"Could you..." the young boy sees the eyes on him, so gets Sophia to crouch down a little. He whispers something in her, something that startles her enough to get her eyes to widen.

"Really?" says Sophia.

"Pleeeaaaaase," says Matthias.

Sophia sighs. She knows she did tell him she would earlier. "Alright, Matt. Give me a moment."

Sophia knew what she had to do. Pedri was still talking to Pau Torres. She clears her throat, and the both look her way. Pedri looks her way.

"Lo siento, Pau, but, um. Palmero. I... I was wondering if..." She clears her throat, not even sure how to get the words out.

Pedri frowns. "Everything okay, Sophia?"

"Yeah, all good, I just... um..."

Pau had gone back to giving his girlfriend his full attention. Pacho and Clarissa engaged Matthias in a game of rock paper scissors. No one was focusing on her but Pedri, and that was still enough to catch her off-guard. Pedri and his damp hair and his half-smile.

"Take your time," says Pedri, maybe enjoying this.

"Basically..." Sophia begins once again. This fine when she loses her words, she sighs. A deep, defeated sigh. "Matt really wants to get a player's shirt today and, er... he's asked me if I could get him yours."

Pedri stayed still for a moment, his position still on the pitch, leaning over the bannister. Then he understood, and a grin crawls up his lips.

"If you really wanted my shirt, Verdiblanco, you should have just asked." He adds, "I would have gladly given it to you."

The only thing Sophia can do is roll her eyes and let out a (relieved) laugh. "Okay."

"Of course I'll give you my shirt. Got to keep my fans happy." With a smirk he clarifies, "Matthias, I mean."

As Pedri pulls his match jersey over his head — the white and grey away kit — Sophia can't help but glimpse his toned abdomen, tearing her eyes away almost immediately. Pedri clearly noticed, because his smirk only grew wider.

"For you, Verdiblanco," he says, holding the bunched jersey over the bannister for her. "Hope you—Matthias—enjoys."

"Thank you, Pedri," she tells him. When she accepts the jersey from him, something warm touched her hand too which was when she'd realised that the fabric of Pedri's top was not the only thing she held. And when Sophia had held his hand, it was the thing to jolt Pedri immediately back to his senses too, and he scrambled to let go as soon as it happened, grabbing the metal bannister instead.

(Which, to his misery, wasn't as soft as Sophia's hand.)

"What's going on here?"

Sira had returned to them, sitting backwards on the railing and swinging her legs over to reach their seats once more. Sophia understood how it suddenly looked. Pedri, bare-chested, body orientated towards Sophia, carrying the shirt he once wore.

Yeah, she gets how it looked.

"Um, Pedri is just doing a bit of... community service... Matt wanted his shirt." Sophia told her.

"Well, you're no Sergio Busquets, Pedri, but you'll make the boy happy," returns Sira.

"Ouch, Sira," Pedri puts a hand to his (very bare) chest.

"What goes on in this after party, Pedri?" Sira asks.

Sophia frowns. "After party?"

"Dad's just told me," says Sira. "A thing for players and their families."

"Um, yeah," Pedri begins, "there's not much to tell. It's quite chilled out. It's taking place at our hotel not far from here, most of the player's families head straight to the hotel, since it's already quite late... clothing wise, it's nothing fancy either. You could just come in your matchday jersey and you'll be fine. A bit of food and music is all it is. You coming over?"

"I'm thinking on it," says Sira. "Well. We're already staying in the same hotel, but I've never been to one of these parties. Soph, you up for it?"

"Are we even allowed?" questions Sophia. "Is it not a players' thing?"

"I'm Lucho's daughter. If there's one thing I can do, it's get myself into a party." Sira adds, "and my friends."

As if on cue, Paula turns to them and says, "You guys are coming to the party, right? You have to."

Sira grins, "Considering it." She turns to Sophia. "What do you say?"

Sophia turns and looks at Pedri.

He smiles and says, "You should come. It'll be fun."

"You know what... alright," says Sophia. "I have to check with my mum though, since, you know... I'm back home. Home ground rules apply again."

"Let me know if you need me to pull any strings," Sira grins.

"Will do," Sophia sniggers. She interrupts the games between her younger siblings and Pacho. "Here you go, Matt."

"Thanks, Soph..." the young boy marvels at his latest jersey edition.

"Not me you need to thank," Sophia motions towards Pedri, who hopped over the banister. Presumably to meet his family, wherever they are.

Matthias gulps and shuffles along the seats enough to reach Pedri before he walks away. Pedri turns back to the small boy. "Um... gracias, Pedri..."

Pedri smiles. "De nada, pequeñin." He looks at Sophia, who was sat watching the interaction with a smile. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah, Palmero," she smiles. "I'll see you."

Before he walks away, Matthias asks Pedri slowly, "...You and my sister... you're really friends?"

Pedri notices how his features were so similar to the girl he jogged up to meet in the first place, who was currently chatting to a woman carrying who he thought was the baby sister Sophia talked about. While he hadn't met Clarissa, she was there too, and she didn't look pleased. Judging by the fact the conversation was most likely about the late night party, he guessed Clarissa wasn't allowed to go.

Pedri looks at the little boy, clutching the shirt he once wore, his cute boyish features and cheekbones like Sophia's. He ruffles Matthias's hair.

"Sì, pequeñin," says Pedri. "Me and your sister are definitely friends."

***

hi guys <3

hope we liked that!! gosh it feels pure weird talking about the euros like it feels so long ago bye 😭 but SO much has happened since🤠

lemme know what u think/what u want more of — i'm always open to feedback <3333

have a good one angels 🫶