***
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gracias princesa💙

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***

Much to every Spaniard's annoyance, Italy won the European Championships.

(And much to Sophia's annoyance, a Scottish-Spaniard, Italy won the Euros. But if they didn't, England would have won. Which really wouldn't be much better.)

Pedri was also not one to object when that same night as England versus Italy, that Argentina had won the Copa America against Brazil. He wasn't an Argentina fan, but his childhood idol — and teammate — was Lionel Messi. Seeing him with his first international trophy after too much pressure and heartbreak was special.

It hadn't been long after the final of the Euros that Pedri was in the process of messaging his teammate Leo Messi congratulations, lying down on his bed with his suitcase stood up, ready for when the bus to take them back to Spain arrived. When a familiar groupchat begun to buzz.

***

new chats in estupidos de españa

Lucho: Change of plan boys. My friend Vincent has arranged a celebration dinner for us all at his restaurant in Sevilla. I've booked us all a night at the local hotel in the area.

***

That's when the messages begun.

***

Jose Gayá: isn't pedri's bird from sevilla?

Pedri: screw you, old man

Ferran: isn't pedri's bird's dad's name vincent?

Lucho: Is bird a code name for something I'm too old to know?

Eric Garçia: in this context lucho, bird is code word for the girl pedriño fancies

Dani Olmo: if we're being technical about it, bird *technically* means girlfriend
Dani Olmo: but pedri doesn't have the balls for that

Pedri: FUCK YOU DANI

Jose Gayá: nice one dani 😄🤜

Dani Olmo: 🤛😎

Pedri: i hate you all

Busi: What's her name again? Wasn't her brother Matthias?

Ayme: her name was Sophia, Busi
Ayme: and yeah it was her little brother Matthias you played ball with

Lucho: So that's who we're talking about? Sophia?
Lucho: In that case yes, it is her father's restaurant we're going to.
Lucho: I'd rather we don't mention that poor girl in this chat😐

Ayme: because pedri likes her? Yeah that's fair I do feel bad for her then

Pedri: aymeric jean louis gerard alphonse laporte
Pedri: if you don't shut up

Ayme: 🤣I know something all of you don't btw
Ayme: regarding the young Spanish lovebirds

Jose Gayá: and what may that be

Pedri: AYME

Ayme: well...

Pedri: AYME

Ayme: did yous all know she's a real betis fan
Ayme: like, avid
Ayme: there's defos gonna be some clashes there between herself and our pedriño

***

Thankfully, that wasn't what Pedri thought Aymeric was going to say.

***

Lucho: Stop talking about my adoptive niece or next international break you will do one hundred extra push-ups before and after every training session.

Ansu Fati: I like push-ups

Dani Olmo: you're a fucking weirdo, ansu
Dani Olmo: wait
Dani Olmo: ANSU???

Pau: ANSU???

Pedri: ANSU???

Ansu Fati: indeed, it is I
Ansu Fati: I have returned from the dead (injury)

Alvaro: miss you niño💙

Ansu Fati: miss you too alvarito💙

Ferran: in the most respectful way possible
Ferran: how tf did you get in here, ansu
Ferran: this chats for euros players
Ferran: and you're currently in hospital fc

Ansu Fati: nope ur wrong, it's actually for the estupidos de españa
Ansu Fati: which doesn't include me ofc
Ansu Fati: since I wasn't playing in the Euros

Pau: bc you were in hospital fc x

Ansu Fati: they treat me much better tbh x

Ferran: you have not answered my question

Ansu Fati: okay dad 🙄
Ansu Fati: they wouldn't treat me like this in hospital fc😪
Ansu Fati: anyways
Ansu Fati: there's a mole in this chat

Dani Olmo: it's jordi alba
Dani Olmo: no doubt about it

Jordi Alba: I'm telling your mother Dani.

Dani Olmo: NO JORDI I BEG

Pedri: i think it's ayme

Ayme: i think it's pedriño

Unai Simon: you're all wrong. It's got to be Sarabia

Sarabia: That's exactly what a mole would say, Unai

Ansu Fati: wow. I mention a mole and you start turning on one another
Ansu Fati: no wonder you got knocked out🫣

Jose Gayá: anssumane fati vieira you watch your tone
Jose Gayá: might extend your contract in hospital fc

Ansu Fati: with the way I'm being treated I wouldn't mind 😔 you make true friends in hospital fc

Alvaro: ansu 😐
Alvaro: tell us who the mole is niño

Ansu Fati: 🤦‍♂️
Ansu Fati: dios mio
Ansu Fati: mister xavi would he ashamed of you all. WHERES YOUR OBSERVATIONS AT
Ansu Fati: if you simply scroll up in the chat, you'd see that Eric added me into the chat

Eric Garçia: 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Alvaro: sneaky fuckign bugger

Eric Garçia: I try

Ansu Fati: so what's all this about Pedri and a new bird?

Lucho: We are not talking about Pedri's "bird".

Ferran: ....
Ferran: lucho is very protective over sophia's bird

Pedri: dios mio i'm turning notifications off

Jose Gayá: so you can chat to your bird in peace?

Pau: I'm gonna ask paula what sophia's told her about you x

Pedri: you're an asshole pau
Pedri: and she's on the flight to sevilla rn so no

Unai Simon: lucky for you that's where we're going

Pedri turned on Do Not Disturb

Ayme: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Ayme: he rlly loves this girl ☹️🫶

Ansu Fati: I've missed so much

***

Aymeric Laporte was in the room with Pedri throughout the entire duration of those chats, and it ended with the young Canarian chucking a pillow in the older Spaniard's face.

Aymeric Laporte also happened to be in the room the day after his country got knocked out of the Euros. Well, he stayed in his partner Sara's room that night, however in the morning he returned to find his roommate Pedri... not alone.

There was no doubt that the girl in his bed was Sophia.

They were both still knocked out when he'd returned around nine, Pedri with a hand overlapping her waist and Sophia with her head on his chest, her raven hair splayed over the pillow. Because they were still sleeping, Aymeric could only imagine they were up till late.

He could only imagine what they were doing.

And he may have had a slight indication of where Sophia had ended up when Katherine had shown up to breakfast alone.

Aymeric had gone into the shower when he returned, though, and by the time he came out, Sophia was gone. He gave Pedri that knowing look anyways, and it was no secret the younger man wanted to strangle him because of it.

As per Luis Enrique's text, their plane stopped off in Sevilla, and they headed to one of the local hotels in the city centre. Pedri's flight to Tokyo would be in less than forty-eight hours, so he hoped he'd see Sophia. Should Spain go all the way in the Olympics, which was the goal, he wouldn't be back for three weeks.

Pedri doesn't know why he's being like this. He's not leaving Barcelona as his football team anytime soon, and Sophia seemed to be enjoying her degree in Barcelona too. She didn't seem to be in any mood to leave.

Pedri doesn't know why he's being like this.

Like it isn't as if that night, when she'd agreed to stay with him, she didn't let herself fall asleep until she knew he was at peace. Like it isn't as if he woke up to her tracing the outline of his lips, and either his morning eye boogers were playing tricks on him, but there was a sort of smile playing with her lips.

And she felt fucking perfect in his arms.

So, Pedri doesn't know why he's being like this. Because he thinks he knows what Sophia feels, and he fucking knows what he feels too.

The team bus had stopped off by the restaurant the evening of their booking. The players had begun filing into the restaurant, Lucho and his family at the forefront, but Pedri hovered back a little. He taps Pau Torres' elbow, the Spanish defender trailing back with confusion.

"Alright, Pedriño?" Pau asks.

"I..." Pedri clears his throat. Standing outside of Sophia's family's restaurant, he gestures to himself. Wearing a white t-shirt, black chinos and one of those camel-coloured shirt-jacket things. "Do... how does it look?"

A smile slowly inched up the taller boy's face. "Look at you, getting all nervous. To be young and in love."

Pedri rolls his eyes. "You are young and in love, estupido."

"Aye, that's right," Pau grins, putting two hands behind on Pedri's shoulders, walking them both in. "Estás guapo, Pedriño. If you're planning on distracting Sophia from doing her job, you're on the right track."

Part of Pedri wanted to grin, but instead he said, "I didn't mention Sophia at any point."

"You didn't have to, niño," laughs Pau. The taller guy holds the door open and Pedri steps through, following the hoard of football players who had just entered, his eyes take a moment to adjust to the new surroundings.

As far as restaurants go, they're all pretty similar. This one had tabletops made of marble, wooden aisle chairs, grey leather booths. LED light bulbs hung in the air like snowdrops, surrounded by hanging moss and ivy — real or not, no one could tell by appearance. Pictures hung in frames along the walls of the restaurant, dangling over hooks with straw ties. Besides the bar, there was a hatch by the restaurant reception where small entry to the back kitchen was visible.

"Decent place, eh?" Jose Gayá says to Pedri, the players all in a queue of sorts. What that queue was for, Pedri was not sure.

"It's really cool," replies Pedri, eyes still marvelling over the decor of the restaurant, the patterning on pillows decorating the leather booth chairs.

"What's going on?" Pau asks, trying to get a view over at the beginning of the queue with his tall frame.

That's when a voice — Ferran — exclaims, "Dios mio, we're getting medals!"

Pedri peeks down the line, and sees Lucho embracing who he recognises to be Vincent Diaz, dressed in a black button-up, dress trousers and those fancy shiny shoes people wear at big events.

When Lucho steps back, from beside Vincent, a tall guy with chestnut hair pulled back by a headband hands him a rose from a bouquet. Beside him, a girl with dark hair places a medal over Lucho's neck, and he embraces the girl.

It was only when Lucho peeled back from an enthusiastic hug with the girl that it dawned on Pedri the girl was Sophia. Contrary to her dad, she wore a black polo with navy trousers that tapered at the ankle, a half-length apron tied around her waist. Her near-black hair was tied in a low ponytail, front strands of hair braided and pinned back. Grinning as she crowned Morata with his medal, the line moving along.

Pretty as always.

"Hola, chico!" The voice belonged to Vincent, Pedri reaching him in the line. The older man held his hand out and Pedri shook it, much like everyone else before him. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, señor," replies Pedri. "Your restaurant is beautiful, thank you for inviting us."

"The least I could do, after all the business I received as a result of the football. Congratulations to yourself on winning Young Player of the Tournament."

"Gracias," says Pedri with a smile.

As he moved on, the guy standing beside Vincent held a hand out, and Pedri shakes it without thought. He had an easy smile on him as he told Pedri, "Felicidades", handing him a red rose from the bouquet he held.

"Hey, you," came from beside the guy. And the sound of Sophia's voice spread a smile over his face. He closes the distance between them, and wraps his arms around her neck.

"Hola, Verdiblanco," returns Pedri, breathing her in, face buried in the hair he woke up to seeing all over his pillow a week ago. "Are you well?"

"I'm well," she confirms with a smile when he pulls away, the two still close enough for her hand to linger at his waist. "I'm glad you're here. Allow me to do the honours?"

She motions with the medal she held in one hand, and chuckling, Pedri nods, dipping his head forwards. Sophia places the medal around his neck, tapping where it rested on his chest.

"Gracias, princesa," Pedri tells Sophia. "I'll frame it."

Before he walks away, Pedri kisses the medal like he would do if he won the Champion's League.

(If he looked over his shoulder before he moved on to find his seat in between Ferran and Sarabia, he might have clocked Sophia's momentary shock. And half-swoon.)

The players had all gathered and taken their seats around the large table in the centre of the restaurant, evident that multiple tables had been joined together beforehand. It took a moment to notice that while the crowd was pretty big — it was just the national team staff, players, Lucho's family and the restaurant staff. There seemed to be no other customers, and Vincent eventually brought this up to be due to advertising the restaurant's closure for one night to hold a closed reservation.

"You didn't have to do all this, Vince," says Lucho.

"I can't take the credit, Lucho," says Vincent in turn. "It was Sophia's idea to hold you a celebration dinner."

"That so?" Lucho sends a grin Sophia's way — currently chatting to Sira — and Sophia shoots him a thumbs up in return.

"What about the flowers and the medals?" asked Simon, looking very proud of his fake medal.

"Again, not me," answers Vincent. "My wife Maria suggested it. She lived in Scotland where something like this isn't very common, and even though this lot are a much more competent team than Scotland — don't tell her I said that — your elimination shouldn't be seen as a bad thing. You've inspired something in the country that we haven't seen since the retirement of our Greats." Vincent takes a flute of champagne from the tray near him, and although he doesn't drink it himself (he's a boss on shift, needs to maintain an image and all that), he gestures for the players to lift the glasses in front of them. He toasts, "To the new generation."

Vincent's words were echoed by the players, clinking their glasses in the air. Pedri was about to sip from his own, an eye on Sophia by the reception desk standing next to the tall guy who'd given him his rose.

Pedri was about to sip from his own, when his flute of champagne got taken swiftly from his hands. Opposite him, Morata held it, and Pedri holds his hands out in a protesting question.

"How old are you again, niño?" Morata clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I will not be caught liable for allowing a child to drink underage."

"Very funny, Alvarito," Pedri rolls his eyes with the laughter around him.

Sophia was chatting to the worker guy, wearing the same uniform as her although with a full-length apron, and he was grinning down at her with his sharp cheekbones and height difference, and there seemed to be next to no space between their arms, and she laughed at something he said.

Which wasn't a problem. At all.

Because Sophia had friends, of course she had friends, and even if she wasn't flirting with the other guy (as he was clearly flirting with her) she was allowed. She's single. She's pretty. She's funny. She's allowed to flirt with other guys, and it wasn't a problem.

It wasn't a problem. It was fine—

A whistle catches his ears, dragging his eyes away from Sophia and the the handsome cheekbones guy. Pedri came faced with Ferran, an eyebrow raised. It takes Pedri a moment to gather that everyone were looking at their menus, while Pedri was looking at... Sophia. And Cheekbones Guy.

"You decided what you wanted, then?" Ferran asks the Canarian. "Or did you just come here to give Soph the eyes."

"You're one to talk about giving eyes," Pedri scoffs, opening the large menu in front of him.

When Ferran raised his eyebrow again, Pedri's eyes shifted in answer to Sira, sitting at the other end of the table from them. Ferran rolls his eyes, places his menu down, decided on his dish. He looks at Sophia and Cheekbones Guy.

"A bit of competition, it seems?" says Ferran.

Pedri pretended to ignore him, deciding he may join Marcos Llorente in ordering truffle fries.

Ferran continues, "Don't worry. I'm sure pretty boy over there doesn't let Sophia try his expansion packs on Mario Kart."

"You never know," Pedri mumbles.

Ferran's jaw drops, and he smirks slightly. "Mierda, you are jealous."

"I'm not."

Ferran hums sure as a response, and Pedri was about to swat him with his menu, when two waiters arrived.

"Can I have your order please?" The girl of the two asked no one in particular. She had red hair, while the clearly nervous boy beside her was blonde. Pedri's assuming she was the one to take the leap and ask the footballers the question, because with all due respect, the blonde lad seemed to be having a moment.

Throughout the duration of the dinner, he hadn't seen much of Sophia. While the food was fucking sublime and his company, his teammates, never failed to make an occasion lively, he hadn't seen much of Sophia. Just while she delivered everyone's drinks and cutlery, while she'd removed plates. He got it. He understood why she couldn't engage much outright. She was working, and her boss is her dad.

As for Vincent, who buried himself amongst the chatter with the Spanish National Team. They were the only party he had to serve, since it was a closed booking, so Pedri found himself spending time with Sophia's dad for the first time.

Vincent was, without a doubt, Sophia's dad.

Whether it was the pursed chin or their identical near-black hair — although Vincent had quite a few stray greys — or the fact the man launched into a conversation regarding Call of Duty when Dani Olmo's phone lockscreen depicting the video game flashed up in front of him. He understood where Sophia's love of video games came from.

Vincent was at the end of the table Pedri was seated at, in conversation with Gayá. The young Canarian noticed ink peeking from under his rolled-up sleeves, on Vincent's forearms. When the restaurant owner finishes chatting to his teammate, Pedri clears his throat. Vincent looks at him.

"Señor, if you don't mind me asking, what is your tattoo supposed to be?"

"Ah, of course," Vincent caught on, rolling his sleeve to his elbow. His forearm now exposed, Pedri saw clearly four... teddy bears? There were definitely four, and they decreased in size from left to right. "Four teddys, for each of my children." Pedri peered closely, and did in fact see a name beneath each bear: Sophia, Clarissa, Matthias, Rosemary.

"That's a great idea," says Pedri. "I'm not a fan of tattoos, but I like that."

"Gracias, chico," Vincent grins. "I got them close after each of their births." He points to the smallest, with Rosie's name, and says, "The most recent, of course."

Pedri smiles. "Sophia tells me Rosie was quite a shock for the family."

"Shock is an understatement," Vincent nods, chuckling. "We thought Matthias was our last child, but with the global pandemic came a new baby. She has been the most blessed shock we could have asked for, though."

"She's a fun baby," Pedri grins. "Must take after her father."

Vincent raises an eyebrow knowingly, a smile playing with his lips. "I see what you're doing, chico, and it's working."

Pedri chuckles to himself as the man walks away to attend to something Cheekbones Guy was saying. Lucho was chatting to Redhead Girl and Blonde Guy (who was still very tense, but that might be Lucho's effect). Sophia, however, was at the bar on her own, restocking the fridge beneath the counter. He rises to stand, telling Ferran he'd be back soon.

Ferran was too busy, of course.

Talking to Sira.

(First time Pedri has seen them interact since their little bathroom encounter.)

Pedri clears his throat, one arm leaning on the customer side of the bar. "What are the Mai Tai's like over here, señorita?"

Sophia's head shoots back from where she had been stocking the fridge, an instantaneous grin overcoming her at the sight of Pedri at her bar.

"Fancy seeing you here," she returns. "To answer your question, out of this world. Nothing you've ever tasted before. Think that's all down to who you've been served by, though."

"Is that so?" Pedri questions Sophia's smirk.

Sophia snickers. "How's your evening been? Wait, what did you order?"

"It's been good," starts Pedri, "and the food too. I got the pan-seared duck with garlic and coriander truffle fries."

"Good choice, Palmero," Sophia nods in approval. "What about that Mai Tai, then?"

Knowing it was just a ploy to get her attention in the first place, he chuckles, shaking his head. "I'm good, gracias. But... this was your idea?" He asks, referring to the dinner party.

"I suppose, yeah," Sophia shrugs, "It was just a suggestion to my dad. Many people had been distracted by the elimination. But you guys had all worked so hard over the last few months, it felt right to let you guys celebrate on behalf of us."

Pedri was smiling wide at this point. But he says anyways, "You were just desperate for me to come to Sevilla, be honest."

Sophia laughs, and releases an over exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, you caught me there. I'm that transparent." Her head turns towards the sound of the bar opening, someone unhooking the half-door to enter.

Cheekbones Guy walks in to wash his hands at the sink behind Sophia. Once finished, he turns around and clocks Pedri, deciding to come and stand beside Sophia. Cheekbones Guy looks inquisitive towards her, and then towards Pedri.

"Pedri, right?" He asks, holding a hand out. "I'm Gio."

(His tag read Giovani, but Pedri assumes he introduced himself that way for the same reason Pedri introduces himself as Pedri, not Pedro. It sounds cooler.)

"Pedri," he replies to Cheekbones Guy — Giovani — then catches himself. "But you already knew that, um. Nice to meet you."

"You too," Giovani nods, "Soph can't say enough good things."

"Gio." says Sophia. Giovani winces, and Pedri can imagine her swiftly stepping on his toes on the other side of the bar.

"Seriously, though," Giovani continues, "You did the country proud, Pedri. You've given us hope for the future."

That made a smile inch up Pedri's face. "Thanks, mate. Appreciate it."

Gio grins in return, then asks Sophia, "Can I have the key to the storage? We need a new keg."

"Aye, of course," she replies, and hands him the key from the bunch looped at her belt. "Cheers, Gio."

Pedri remembered something.

Wait.

Gio?

Pedri motions to where Giovani had just exited. "Is that, um... the guy you told me about? At the Spain after party a while back? The older guy?"

Sophia's eyes dart back to the door, half-rolling them, as if recalling it all. "Yeah. That's him. Gio. He's twenty-two, so thankfully not that much older."

He chuckles, "How come he's back here? I remember you saying he left not long after you moved to Barca."

"The better position was here, and my dad needed someone like him," Sophia answers, shrugging. The corners of her eyes soften, "You remembered?"

"It just... rung a bell," explains Pedri briefly.

Because there's no way Pedri could forget about someone stupid enough to reject Sophia.

Aymeric strides up to the bar, where Sophia and Pedri were chatting, and leans an arm on the counter, smiling exuberantly.

"You must be the cute bartender Pedri can't shut up about!"

"Is that so?" The smirk making its way up Sophia's face at Aymeric Laporte's revelation synced with the horror blush crawling up Pedri's.

"Ayme." Pedri deadpans.

"Am I wrong?" Laporte questions. "How many other cute bartenders do you know?"

"Yeah, Pedri," says Sophia, an eyebrow raised, leaning forward at the bar in interest, "actually how many cute bartenders do you know?"

"I—" Pedri begins, but is saved from answering when Sophia gets called into the kitchen. Much to his relief, her suspicion didn't last, not with the breezy smile she gave the two before she parted.

Pedri turns to Aymeric with a composed glare.

"Ayme, you little shit."

Feigning innocence, Aymeric shrugs. "That's uncalled for."

"So is you coming here unannounced claiming I know many cute bartenders!" Pedri retaliates.

"I'm just trying to help you out. Be your wingman."

"I was doing perfectly fine on my own, Ayme, I don't need a wingman."

Aymeric lets out a small smile. "You admit it, then?"

"Admit what?" Pedri huffs.

"Oh, dios mio, where have your observations went to? Admit Sophia. The fact you spent the night together in London. The fact she wears your jersey, the fact you text each other all the freaking time. Like, help me, you are clearly very sexually frustrated right now at the fact she's right there and you can't do anything about it. Admit how much you like her, because if I see anything, it's that she feels the same way."

"I don't think I need to admit it for it to mean something, Ayme." He looks around to see if anyone was listening. They weren't, and the only person around the bar was Giovani hooking up a new keg to the beer dispenser.

Defeated, Pedri nods. "Yes. I do. Of course I like Sophia. Of course I want to be with her. She's beautiful, and intelligent, and she plays video games. Like, I have never met anyone so into Zelda and it's fucking adorable. She has soft hands, and she cooks amazing. Fer mentioned how rare he's ever seen me interested in someone and that for a while it didn't even look like I was trying to find someone to be with. I wasn't, to be honest. Sophia came unannounced in my life in the best way possible. She literally fell into my life, and I've fallen for her."

Pedri puts his head in his hands, the enormity of his confession hitting him. Aymeric pats his teammates' head lightly.

"There could be worse people to fall for, niño," says Aymeric. "The way I see it, she's one of the best. You don't need to worry."

The door to the kitchen in the bar opens, alerting Pedri and Aymeric. Sophia returned, chatting over her shoulder to a blonde guy, similar height to Pedri. He wore the same uniform as Sophia, sans the apron. He was the guy standing beside Sophia and Giovani while Vincent was welcoming them, the guy who looked just as gobsmacked then as he did now.

Blonde Guy seemed hesitant to come forward to the bar, where Pedri and Aymeric were, until Sophia looped her arm in his to drag him forward. If Pedri's ears served him correctly, she said something hushed along the lines of "get a grip, Mateo".

Sophia comes to the front of the bar with Blonde Guy, her arm still hooked in his. Pedri and Aymeric clearly very intrigued.

(It somehow seemed less intimate than whatever was going on between Giovani and Sophia earlier... and no, Pedri isn't jealous.)

"Aymeric, Pedri, meet Mateo," Sophia introduces Blonde Guy, or, Mateo. "Mateo, you already know who these guys are."

"Nice to meet you, mate," says Pedri, a hand out for Mateo to shake, which he did, Aymeric following up too.

"It's an honour to meet you both," Mateo admits.

"What team do you support, chico?" asks Aymeric.

With a nod towards Pedri, Mateo says, "Barcelona."

Pedri grins. "One of the good guys."

Sophia's mouth drops. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me, Verdiblanco."

Sophia squints her eyes at Pedri, but smiles grudgingly.

Mateo looks at Pedri. "You've, like, been immense this season, Pedri. Like, my dad would rather have you as a son than me."

Pedri grimaces. "I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"No, don't be!" Mateo insists. "You're, like, the sign of hope. You've made so many culérs believe Barca can be saved, and that feeling is incredible. Just thank you."

"It's my dream club," Pedri smiles, "And an honour to make you feel that way."

Mateo blushed slightly, and Sophia goes, "Palmero, you've just fuelled Mateo's slight man crush."

"It was never a slight man crush," Gio laughs.

"Okay, yeah, screw you, De Luca," says Mateo. He asks Aymeric, "You fancy coming to Barca, mate? We could do with someone like you."

That made Aymeric laugh. "All due respect, chico, Sophia's cousin would beat my ass if I thought about it right now."

"Right now," Mateo reiterates. "Don't rule it out?"

"We'll see what happens," Aymeric grins. "Hey, let's get a picture, actually."

Mateo's face lit up, not once protesting as he handed Sophia his phone before walking around the bar to the footballers. Giovani also wanted in after Pedri offered a picture to him, the two hospitality employees buzzed after meeting the celebrities. A whole restaurant filled with them.

After Giovani returned to his side of the bar, Pedri smirks at Sophia. "Not feeling left out, are you, Verdiblanco?"

"You are full of it," Sophia laughs. But then shrugs. "If you insist."

Walking out of the bar, Sophia takes her phone out and Aymeric swiftly suggests, "I'll take it."

"Do you not want to be in?" Sophia frowns.

"The flash from the last two has, er, blinded me." Aymeric clears his throat, holding the phone up in front of the two young Spaniards. "Go on, niños, stand together."

Sophia laughs, going along with it. Pedri's arm slips around her, and her own hand goes behind and to his shoulder, and he wants to break eye contact with the camera for just a moment, so he can witness her smile again. He can never get enough of that smile.

Then a throat is heard clearing, and their attention falls away from Aymeric and the camera.

Vincent stands there, an eyebrow raised. Looking unimpressed, probably because two of his workers were behind the bar, not working, and the third one — his own daughter — was busy not working either, posing with a guest for a picture, and probably because Pedri's hand was snug around her waist.

He quickly drops it.

"What's going on here?"

Silence. Nobody was really willing to answer.

Aymeric takes his phone out as if it was ringing. (It wasn't.) "Oh, I need to take this, it's Sara." He weakly excuses himself, leaving the bar.

Vincent squints his eyes in question at Aymeric's departure. And addresses his employees directly:

"Mateo, you're supposed to be on break. Stop distracting other employees. Sophia, you're supposed to be cleaning the bar. Stop getting distracted." Before Sophia could protest that the cleaning was all done, Vincent pushes on, "Giovani, you... look pissed, and I don't understand why, but please fix your face. You're too handsome for that, and you're working for me. Be your usual charming self, please."

Mateo cuts in, "Vince, in the most respectful way possible, two of my clubs captains are on that table over there." Clearly referencing Jordi Alba and Busquets. "How do you expect me to be okay with that?"

"The same way I expect you to be okay with drying all the cutlery and dishes we've left upstairs in the private lounge."

"What," Mateo's face drops. "But I'm on break!"

"No, you were getting pictures with footballers."

"Oh my break! I—"

"Nope—"

"Dios mio, you guys." Sophia rolls her eyes. "Mateo, stay and chat to everyone. I've had my fair share of meeting footballers this summer, I'll go upstairs instead."

"Wait, really?" Mateo's eyes widen. He looks at Vincent for approval. "Really?"

Vincent shrugs. "As long as it gets done."

Mateo bursts with glee. "Sophia Adams-Diaz, I could kiss you right now."

"Please don't," Sophia and Vincent chorus at once.

(Echoing Pedri's exact thoughts.)

Pedri looks at Sophia, who gives her a tired, amused glance. "I'll be back in a bit," she says, and he watches her climb the stairs at the end of the restaurant into what was supposed to be the private lounge.

Leaving Pedri with Mateo, who didn't hesitate to gush over how beautiful Pedri's connection with Messi was on the pitch. Mateo had managed to come out of his shell a little by the end of the dinner party, and both Giovani and the Redhead Girl, who Pedri found out was called Valentina, were involved in the chatter amongst the footballers too.

However, by the time Lucho confirmed that their team's bus had came to take them to the hotel for the night, Sophia still hadn't returned from upstairs. There must have been a lot of dishes. He makes his way in that specific direction, at the exact time Vincent was descending from the stairs.

"Pedri," says Vincent.

"Hola, señor." He clears his throat, and Pedri gestures to the stairs Vincent had came down from. "Is Sophia...? I just wanted to say bye..."

Vincent grins, "Relax, niño. I'm sorry you had to witness that side of me earlier. It was nothing personal. Just, you know how it is, as a boss I need to... regulate things sometimes."

"I get it," Pedri nods, pressing a smile to his lips. Sophia's dad might intimidate him a little.

"She's upstairs, niño," he claps a hand to Pedri's shoulder as the older man passes by the Canarian.

Pedri goes upstairs, and found Sophia by the wall opposite him. She was standing by a trolley, with three containers, with spoons, knives and forks, and a stack of dishes.

"Hey, Verdiblanco."

Sophia looks back and smiles. "Palmero. Hey. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's all good," replies Pedri, "The bus is here, though, and we're, um, leaving."

"Oh, right," she says. "Give me a minute, I have these last few knives to dry."

"No rush," says Pedri, "We both know Lucho takes forever to say goodbye."

Sophia grinned, because that was definitely true.

"Is Sira also going?" asks Sophia.

"Pretty sure, yeah. Did you see her and Ferran talking?"

"I did!" Sophia exclaims, gesturing enthusiastically with the knife she was drying. "What was all that about?"

"I was hoping you would know."

Sophia smiles. "I hoped you'd know, too."

A grin twitches at his lips. He asks, "When are you moving back to Barca?"

"My lease begins late August," confirms Sophia, wiping her final knife dry, dropping it into its container. "I'll be moving my stuff back and forth for a wee while, to be honest. Also need to update my road tax if I want to take my car to Barca again."

Pedri grins. "Adult struggles."

"Yeah," Sophia laughs. "How are you feeling for Tokyo?"

Pedri shrugs. "Feeling calm. I know it'll be over in no time, so I'm focusing on enjoying it rather than letting nerves get in the way of it."

"Wise choice," Sophia grins. "Will your family make their way over?"

"Not this time," Pedri sighs. "There were no flights. Fernando's saying it's been difficult trying to find a stream to watch the games too."

Sophia purses her lips in thought for a moment, before saying, "Pass my number on to him. I can send him the stream I've found for the football games."

"Wait," Pedri frowns. "You're watching the games? They're all at, like, the crack ass of dawn back in Spain? Tokyo is nine hours ahead."

With Fernando, it was a different story. He's the big brother, it was his duty to watch his little brothers games. He was a willing participant, staying up late (early) to watch Pedri's Olympic matches, but in the cases he wasn't, well, Pedri saw no choice in the matter anyways.

Anyways, Sophia, she had no obligation.

"Well, yeah," says Sophia, like it was obvious. "You're playing. Of course I'd want to see you play."

This girl.

"You're amazing," says Pedri. "Truly."

He was just as shocked as Sophia when those words left him. He meant every one, though, even if he no longer had control over his words. When she tilted her head to look at him, Pedri wasn't expecting to see so much endearment. It took his breath away.

Not nearly how she took his breath away next.

Because Sophia breached the distance between them and pressed her lips to his in the space of a heartbeat.

Amidst the softness of her mouth covering his, he realised he didn't expect this to happen. He wasn't expecting for her to kiss him then at all.

So much that when Sophia peeled back from Pedri's frozen figure, her eyes were wide.

"Fuck," she breathes, "Did I—?"

Before she could even consider saying the words mess up, Pedri said otherwise and swooped in, cupping her face in his hands. His lips were on hers, and he hoped that was enough of an answer, that she didn't mess up. Not with him, never with him.

Urgency flooded through Pedri when he kissed Sophia, not noticing they'd moved until her hips bucked into the table behind them. He pressed into her, and she pressed back, kissing him, and he didn't realise how long he'd waited for this.

At the party, at her flat, in the football stadium, in the lobby's of all the hotels they'd met in. In his hotel room. And it was now, upstairs in the private lounge of her dad's restaurant and her hands were inside his jacket, gripping his torso as his thumbs were caressing her cheeks. Rifling through her tied-up hair, Pedri waited for this.

For the moment that they would breach every everlasting particle of space, for the softness of her mouth on his, that scent of laundry in his nose... They had never been this close, and now that they were, Pedri didn't want to let go.

The sound of a dish clattering brought their senses back to earth. The trolley carrying the dried dishes and cutlery, Pedri had inadvertently backed Sophia into it, causing the brief clash. She didn't seem to care, so he didn't. The other sound being Vincent saying his goodbyes downstairs.

Pedri's forehead propped against hers, their shallow breaths became one. There was a red tinge to Sophia's lips, and the temptation to kiss her again was real. Her hands fisted the collar of his jacket, and both of his rested on her neck, burning hot, and he can't believe that just happened.

"Will you wait for me?" He asks, breathes.

She pulls him forward by his collar gently. Kisses his nose.

"Yes," Sophia answers. "Always. I'm going to be right here, Palmero."

Breathing her in once, Pedri tells Sophia, "Gracias, Verdiblanco."

He let Sophia interpret the thank you as she wished,  before he kissed her, once more, the last one he allowed himself to indulge in that night. Because help him, now that he knows the taste of Sophia, he doesn't think he can quit.

***

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

hope that was worth the wait ehhehehehehe

(this might be named question after the taylor swift song btw x)

on a side note i am v sorry for being slow with updates life has been HECTIC & this semester of uni is so full-on rn.  a girl is struggling

THIS PICTURE BTW🥹🥹🥹

that video with ansu pedri and araújo made my day like my faves. PEDRI CONFIRMED THAT HES A GAMER IN THAT VIDEO TOO WHICH MAKES ME SO HAPPY WRITING GAMING REFERENCES BETWEEN PEDRI AND SOPHIA🥰🥰🥰

I love laporte sm can yous tell🤣 his friendship with pedri is one of my faves && pedri and ansu's friendship is also up there. like i love them sm

i ALSO got the new senyera kit (i'm a sucker for senyera kits tbh x) and i got frenkie's name on the back so buzzed i'm in love with it🥹🥹🥹

right. it's almost one in the morning and i happen to have contracted a fever, i need SLEEP so i rlly hope yous enjoyed that and plz bare with me whenever i get to update 💙 i'm rlly trying guys🫶

take care of yourselves guys