ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Ever since that night, things had spiralled. 

The morning after, you'd been roused by Alexia’s low murmur. “I should have your hand cut off for that.”

It took a second to register that she was across the room, not the heat pressed against your back.

The fingers curled around your hip twitched. 

“Don’t move.” Alexia breathed, “She’s sleeping.” 

You most definitely weren’t. But when the door clicked shut and Misa nuzzled into the back of your neck, it was easy to doze again. 

The house arrest almost went unspoken that morning. You, too afraid to ask. Misa, making the coffee she’d usually insist on paying for in a cafe. Travel cups in hand, she'd gently suggested a walk in the garden.

It wasn’t till you were sat in the shade watching the bees sweep from flower to flower that she sighed. 

“I know it’s between you and the boss, and I don’t want to…” A quick glance confirmed that she had become fascinated by the curve of her hands around her own cup. Her knuckles had been covered in fresh gauze that morning. 

“Go on,” You replied.

Another breath. “Last night, you were sure you wanted to be a part of it.” 

You turned back to the bees, pulling your knees up. It was quiet out. Quieter than it ever was in the city. “I want to be with her. And you. And I don’t have anyone else now.”

And after last night, I have no choice.  

It sat between you, unsaid but ever present.

“Once you’re in, there is no way out. I don’t want you to regret it." She sighed.

It was hard to fathom what you were signing up for, your own perception skewed by muffled conversations overheard as a child and films watched as a teenager. You knew that your own knowledge was limited, yet walking away from Alexia wasn’t even a possibility.

You chose carefully, keeping your tone light. “Do you?” 

“No.” She replied instantly. “Never.” 

You hummed back, sipping from your cup slowly. 

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but it stretched. 

Eventually, Misa leaned forwards and rested her elbows on her knees. You watched her profile look out over the garden, stretching all the way to the high wall.

“In that case,” she began, “I know you’ll have questions about… everything. I think you should save them for Ale. She knows more than me. Knows how she’d want things answered. But she wants you to learn how to shoot. You need to know how to defend yourself properly. And if you’re certain about staying, I’ll teach you.” 

You processed slowly, no pressure from her posture nor her tone. After a while, you replied, “I’m certain.”

Her smile was slow and lazy when she stretched back against the bench. “Maybe after lunch, then?”

Nodding a little, you nudged your shoulder against hers. “Lots of time to practice. I don’t suppose I’m going to be allowed to leave here anytime soon?” 

She snorted, pressing back. “Count yourself lucky Ale hasn’t locked you inside.” 

You tried to suppress your sigh as you rolled your neck to stare at the leaves and listened to the gentle twitter of birds overhead. You'd expected as much, but the confirmation was still painful. “Can I ask you other things, then? About you. Not you know… work related?” 

“Of course. Anything you want.” 

And so it went. 

Slowly. 

Slowly. 

Slowly, the days slipped into a gentle kind of torture. 

First, the shooting lessons. The dark-lit range under the garage which was straight out of a Batman film. Misa, bright and alive when she enthusiastically explained the difference between bolt-action and break-action. Her fast-moving fingers dismembering her piece just to show you how it fit back together. The hard press of her body behind you while she readjusted your grip, your angle, your stance. 

Second, Misa’s non-negotiable gym time. Her goofy grin if she caught you looking between exercises. The snap of fresh tape against her knuckles which would last exactly one and a half sets before she’d rip it off and let her wounds be bare. The devastating cut of her physique, covered in sweat and stronger than it had any right to be. And you, trying to ignore the way every quiet grunt made its way into your lizard brain and demanded to be played on repeat until you were undeniably turned on. 

Third, the information your carefully curated questions would work out of her. The way she’d smirk but wouldn’t make eye contact when you’d bring up her past. Then her half-assed answers, which started short and then lengthened with each passing day. It took three of those conversations before you finally blurted out the thing which had sat at the front of your mind since that night. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You’d rationalised that it deserved a little warning. 

Though you could tell it took everything in her not to point out that you just had, Misa raised her eyebrow and kept her mouth shut. 

"You and Ale," You’d started, "Romantically..?” It wasn’t until the word was out of your mouth that you realised you hadn’t given her a question at all. 

She did a bad job of keeping her face straight, smirk creeping through her apparent indifference. “Less romance, more… physical.” 

“Often?” 

Misa folded her arms, but there was nothing tense about her. “Are you going to pretend Ale hasn’t already told you?”

You ignored her, pivoting fast. “And Jenni?” 

Misa chuckled, reverting to her usual shortness. “It’s complicated.” 

“And with Lucy too?” 

“Lucy and Ona are a package deal.”

“But you’ve slept with them both?” 

Misa’s eyes narrowed. It was like mental chess, trying to work out why she was being so evasive when Alexia didn’t hold anything back. “Any reason you want the details of my sex life, doll?” 

“It involves my girlfriend.” You'd reminded, since you could hardly blurt out that the memory of them kissing had been playing on repeat in your head for days. “It happened a lot?” 

Seemingly placated, Misa shrugged. “With Ale, not since you came around.” 

“Sorry.”

She laughed at that. “Don’t be sorry. She’s happier now.” 

And that was sweet enough to make you drop the subject, because that was the final pain point. 

For her promise of no more secrets, Alexia was always gone. Some mornings you’d wake to her and Misa’s whispered conversations, the latter’s body entwined with your own, the former already half-way out the door. Others, you’d miss her entirely.

Each night, with Alexia and the others yet to appear and time ticking on, Misa would grow tired of trying to entertain you, then grow tired of watching you trying to keep your eyes open. 

“Time for bed?” She suggested the first time. 

“Yeah,” You’d breathed back, though your heart hurt, “But I wanna-”

“Come on then. I’ll stay until Ale gets back.” 

But Alexia wasn’t back. At least, not before you fell asleep. Night after night, whatever bleary-eyed glimpse of her you caught in the morning was as much as you'd get.

Her sporadic texts weren’t nearly enough with the number of questions marinating in your mind. The gentle rejections to FaceTimes and phone calls were an everyday occurrence. If you did catch her, it was just a check-in, less than five minutes before she’d be called away to something else.

You knew Misa could see it. While you had been isolated before, you'd at least had the freedom to shop and eat in the city, talking to strangers if only to order from them. Alexia had been available, and the others were around far more often. Now, it was just Misa and the perimeters of the admittedly large villa.

By the fifth morning, your heart stuttered when their gentle whispers roused you awake. 

“You're taking your bodyguard role very seriously, Mis.” Alexia’s bemused lilt carried. 

You could feel Misa’s head pressed against your neck, her arm around your waist, her thigh stretched over yours. Her chest rumbled husky when she spoke. “I’m being a human shield.”

Alexia muffled her amusement before her tone lowered. “Hmm. Guard her any closer and we’ll have to have a talk”

With a pout, you forced your eyes open to find her across the room. She pulled on her jacket before noticing your alertness. You half-hated her for leaving so easily. For waking up and sneaking out. For teasing when she was meant to be jealous. 

The other half desperately wanted her to come back to bed and stay.

You spoke before she could, curling your arm around to keep Misa close. “So what, you get to fuck her, but I can’t even have a cuddle without comments?”

Alexia hardly hid her surprised giggle. “You’re awake, cariño?” Her whole face lit up as she walked over, then gently kneed her way onto the bed. Her hand stroked back the wild flyaways of your hair before she leaned in. Her soft kiss made your heart hurt. Asking her to stay was on the tip of your tongue, but you already knew what the answer would be. You’d text each other enough ‘I miss you’s’ to know the response to that too.

Instead, you soaked in the worshipful caress of her fingers. Another kiss. Then one to your cheek. Alexia pulled away, just a cheeky smile before, “You can fuck her too, baby.” Another kiss. “Be safe.”

She turned and pressed her lips to Misa’s wild hair. Then, she left without turning back. 

That comment played around and around in your head all day. 

When Misa stood over the stove, sleep-rumpled and cooking breakfast.

When she readied herself for your walk in the garden, sliding her gun into her jeans. 

When she stood behind you in the shooting range, strong hands correcting your own while her hips pressed against your ass.

When she stripped her shirt off before even starting her workout, then again when her sweat made her skin shine. 

When she lingered at the door of the bathroom, eyeing how you settled on the bed to wait for her since she wanted you close. 

And then again, when you could hear the shower's drone next door and know that she was hot, naked, and dripping under it.

You opened your phone to entertain yourself in the meantime. Flicked between the Lucy-approved weather app, your messages, and your contacts list a few times. 

You tried to ignore the changing of the water patterns, then the quiet as it turned off. You tried to ignore the door left ajar in her paranoia. Tried to ignore the slithers of movement you could see through the crack. 

Weather app, messages, contacts. 

The hairdryer turned on. 

Weather app, messages, contacts. Then back to messages. Impulsive perhaps, but Alexia’s was the first thread. Without overthinking it, you typed: 

[13:56] You: Were you serious

[13:56] You: What you said this morning

Immediately, the read receipt lit up. Then:

[13:56] Alexia: ?[13:56] You: About Misa

[13:57] You: And what I can do

Then, instead of three dots, just silence. You stared at the thread for a few seconds, then went through the app rotation for good measure. Still nothing. 

You half-expected your phone to light up with an incoming call, but instead, your focus was stolen by the hairdryer shutting off. 

The silence stretched, no movement in the bathroom, no notifications on your phone. You’d opened the text thread again and started typing by the time the door crept open. 

Immediately, you felt the heat. Misa stepped through, bare feet on the carpet, short shorts hardly hiding the line of her piece, the lines of her tight stomach exposed under a fresh sports bra.  

She tilted her chin and leaned against the doorframe. “You okay? Ale said you needed something?” 

You’d hardly registered the phone in her hand till she raised her eyebrows at your silence. 

“I…” You sat up, staring at your own unanswered thread, “She texted you?”

“Sí, just now.”

Your stomach fluttered. You tried to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, shifting around to pick up your phone again. “I don’t need anything, I just wanted her to text me back.”

You deleted the half-written text, opting instead for the simple message: 

[14.02] You: I hate you right now 

And then right after, because you knew that a good old guilt-trip was an effective tool: [14.02] You: I thought you were mad at me :(

But instead of your phone’s vibration, it was Misa’s which chimed. She lifted the screen, immediately grinning.

“Is that Ale?” You asked.

Misa’s gaze flickered to you, her smile confirming. 

Defiantly, you crawled your way to the edge of the bed and schooled your expression to confidence. “Can I see?”

Instead of answering, Misa shook her head, her amusement grinding against your thinly-veiled embarrassment. 

A new tactic, wide eyes and pouting lips. “Please? She won’t text me back.”

Misa was still for a second. She glanced down at her screen again, then straightened up and stepped over the plush carpet in front of you. She handed you her phone while you registered how good she smelled. 

You tapped the screen to brighten, then scrolled to the top of the most recent messages in the thread. 

[13:57] Alexia: What are you doing right now?

[13:57] Misa: Shower. Was at the gym. She’s in the bedroom on her phone. I can see her.

You didn’t know what to do with the affection curling in your chest at being brought up unprompted in their conversation. 

[13:57] Alexia: She’s horny 

[13:57] Alexia: For you

[13:57] Alexia: Do something about it

You were certain your cheeks were bright red now. 

[13:58] Misa: Is that an order?

You scrolled down. 

[13:58] Alexia: If you want it to be

[13:58] Alexia: If you’d rather stand outside and listen to her getting off, you could do that instead

[14:02] Alexia: I’ll be home late

[14:02] Alexia: Tire her out for me

[14:02] Alexia: I want cuddles tonight 

Nothing else came through. Misa still stood in front of you. You could feel her gaze, even if you didn’t want to meet it. Instead, you offered her the phone back, reaching for your own and typing quickly:

[14:04] You: I can’t believe you. 

[14:04] You: You’re in so much trouble Alexia

It wasn’t surprising when you were left on read. You sighed just to fill the silence. 

Misa didn’t move, still stood in front of you. Her voice was laced with her usual playfulness. “What did you say to her?”

“That she’s in trouble when she gets home.”

Her unrestrained laugh lifted a bit of the tension, as did her weight shifting to sit next to you. “I meant earlier?” 

You could see her eyes dart to the phone in your hand. Something about her openness had you handing it over before you’d really thought it through. 

She tapped the screen, head tilting like a confused puppy while she started to read. The seconds ticked by.

You were unsure what to do with your hands, anxiety tightening your chest with every passing moment. 

Then, Misa held it back out with a snort. “Don’t be too mad at her, princess. She just wants you happy.”

Picking imaginary dirt from your fingernails seemed like the best solution. That, and digging even further. “If she wanted me to be happy, she’d be here.” 

Misa tilted her head, a flicker of sympathy in the dip of her smile. “Soon,” She breathed, setting the phone to her side when you made no move for it, “As soon as she can be.” 

The quiet sat. You were ready to suggest making a start on dinner despite your very recent lunch.

Misa, on the other hand, with her hair half-dried, half-dressed, half-smiling, was reading you like a book. With a dramatic clearing of her throat, she tapped the outside of your thigh with her fingers. “So… did you want me to step outside?” 

The groan was escaping before you could think twice. You lay back, covering your face with both palms. If hell was a place, the ground would have already eaten you up. 

As it were, a different kind of torture. 

You felt the weight of her shifting as she leaned back on her side. 

“No.” You grumbled, torn between hiding behind whatever tattered pride you had left and ogling her body. 

“You want me to stay?” She prodded. You could hear the smile in her tone. 

“You’re enjoying this far too much.” 

“You want something else, then?” 

The heat from your cheeks was unbearable. “I hate you. Both of you.” 

Misa laughed, shifting to stroke her fingers against your forearms. “Come on. You’re never shy about asking for what you want.” 

“Mis,” You sighed, pressing your arms down and out of her reach. She was closer than you expected. 

She didn’t pull away; instead, she shifted closer, her shoulder brushing yours. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a playful, knowing hum. “For the record, I would.” Her eyes made a less than-subtle dart down your body. “Gladly. And if you didn’t belong to Ale, I’d have made a move the first time I saw you.” 

You froze. 

Misa smirked again, exhaling as she propped herself up on an elbow. “Surprised?” 

Quite the opposite, in fact. Having confirmation that the weeks of flirting weren’t just proximity and obligation felt a lot like relief. 

“You’re a menace,” You deflected, though it lacked any real conviction. In fact, it felt a lot like flirting back. The room felt small all of a sudden. 

“I’ve heard worse.” Misa wasn't smirking anymore; her expression had softened into something hungrier, her gaze tracing the line of your throat before locking back onto your eyes. “Now, I’m under strict instructions to tire you out, so either you tell me to leave, or…” 

“Or what?” 

Misa’s eyes twinkled at the hint of bratiness. “Or you take your clothes off and we’ll see if you’re as smart with my head between your legs.”  

You felt your thighs clench, but tried not to let her crudeness throw you. Her tease was familiar, so normal now that it still felt casual.

Misa didn’t look at you like a job she had to complete, but like someone she wanted to serve.

Reverent.

The power was heady. The decision, well beyond made:

“I don’t want you to go.” 

“No?” Misa breathed, reaching out to draw the back of her hand against your forearm. 

You moved to tangle your fingers together, letting the playfulness curl into your smile. “No," You inhaled just to see her be unusually patient for the next sentence, "But I do want you to kiss me. And maybe more.” 

With a chuckle, Misa rolled her eyes and squeezed at your hand. “Maybe? She asks her girlfriend if she can fuck me and now she’s playing hard to get.” 

That drew a giggle from you, the absurdity of it all. “Maybe,” You hummed, “Depends how the kiss goes.” 

With an athletic grace that caught you off guard, her hand untangled itself and slid across your jaw. Misa leaned in, fast first, then completely still with just a centimetre between you. You could feel the heat of her, suddenly hyper aware of your own body, how your lips had already parted for something she only teased. 

You didn’t give her time for whatever smooth comment she was about to deliver. You closed the gap with a stretch of your neck, pressing your lips against hers without fanfare. It wasn’t the soft caution of a first kiss, nor reflective of the blunt hunger simmering inside. Instead, her kiss felt right. Steady with the pressure and rhythm of two people who did this all the time. 

But you didn’t do this all the time, and the way she pulled back and made you chase her for another was addictive. She seemed to enjoy that, smiling against your lips when you sighed your frustration. Your hands were trapped too low to keep her close, one stuck against your stomach and the other meeting the hot skin of her waist. 

Misa pulled back, “Did I pass?” She purred, stroking her thumb over your bottom lip with practised confidence.

Her smugness was a challenge. 

You turned your head, tongue darting out to lick softly at the pad of her thumb before taking it into your mouth.

Misa’s breath hitched, her jaw slackened as you hollowed your cheeks, eyes locked on her reaction. The sound felt like a victory. Her brow creased, pupils blown wide as she watched you suck her thumb against your tongue. 

The recovery session on Monday is basically torture. The whole team looks like they want to be anywhere but here, including the coaching staff. They went through this exact same mourning period after Lisbon, but watching a trophy slip away twice in a row is a different kind of agony. Lyon also opens an old wound for those who’ve been here for years.

The gym is mute, save for the instructions of the medical staff guiding them through mobility drills. Everyone wants to get it over with so they can retreat back into whatever private way they’ve been choosing to cope with the failure.

On the mats, Alexia stretches in silence. She still has no idea how the idea to invite you over had crossed Alba’s mind, but she is forever grateful for her sister’s uncanny knack for reading people’s emotional needs. Alexia would have never thought about it, but the second you entered the room and cuddled against her, it’s as if a new warmth had engulfed her.

You hadn’t erased the loss, of course. You couldn’t. Alexia can still feel the crushing weight of it resting against her chest, a constant, heavy ache with every breath she took. But knowing she’s with someone who truly got it changed everything.

Her mother and sister, as much as she loves them, understand that it’s important for her, but they never got why. Her non-sporting friends are no different. All of her close friends who are footballers in Barcelona aren’t much help considering they’re all bleeding from the exact same wound.

But you ? You’re right here in Barcelona, purposefully missing your own training just to be by her side. You’re letting her hold onto you without asking for a single thing in return, providing a quiet space to talk whenever she wants, and offering a peaceful silence when she doesn’t.

There are the deeper layers of hurt also, the ones her loved ones know about that you don’t. The fact that Alexia was supposed to leave Barcelona, that she was so sure they were going to win that the goodbye video was already recorded. But she promised herself she couldn’t do it if they lost, and now they had, and she’s staying for another season without knowing if she can mentally handle it.

It’s not that she actively hid it from you. Okay, maybe a bit. During camp, she simply didn’t see any reason to give you that information when you talked about her contract. “I’m obviously staying” was an easy lie.

After that, the timing was just never right. You decided to stay at your club in a worse situation than her, and she felt like her advice to you would sound hypocritical. She had no idea it would go that far between the two of you.

Alexia makes trust be earned, people don’t easily enter her close circle. You did it in a moment she was overwhelmed, between the finals, what her friends were saying, and a schedule not in her favor, gaining a trust she wasn’t even sure she wanted to give you yet. Miriam had flat-out called her an idiot for withholding the truth about the contract from you, though Alexia highly disputed that specific choice of words.

Her original plan had been so neat, so controlled : she was going to call you right before the departure became official to explain everything. She had possessed absolutely no backup plan for a scenario where they lost, where she was forced to stay, and where you somehow became her actual girlfriend in the messy interim.

When the conversation turned serious the previous day, the ghost of the final was too loud for her to invite any more chaos. She stayed quiet to avoid a blowout. It was a defensive strategy she knew all too well, the exact same reason she may have withheld a few things regarding her relationship with Jenni.

She will tell you about both if she manages to get days with you in the summer, when everything has calmed down. She hopes you won’t get too mad at her. This summer is also when she plans to tell everyone she knows you are dating, because asking you to be her girlfriend is accepting that she will have to do that, no matter how much it terrifies her.

A firm shoulder bumps against hers, breaking her concentration. “You seem totally out of it,” Irene whispers, checking her with a protective, worried gaze. “You should come over to mine after this. I promise the kids are great distractions when you need to shut your brain off.”

Alexia is touched by the proposition. Irene knows everything. Well, almost. She knows about the weight of the loss, about the contract, about how easily Alexia gets trapped inside her own head. She deserves to know about you. Alexia has tried to get the words out in the last few weeks, but couldn’t. Coward.

“Don’t worry about me,” Alexia promises. “But thank you, truly.”

Irene sighs, the one when she thinks Alexia is being difficult unreasonably. “Ale, just come over. You are just going to replay the entire game on a loop at home, and we both know that’s completely unhealthy.”

Alexia can’t exactly blurt out that she has a girlfriend waiting at home to take care of her. Time and place. “I promise, Irene, I’m not doing that bad.”

Irene shakes her head but doesn’t push the issue. Ordinarily she would, but the weight of the defeat is draining her too. She doesn't have it in her to fight what she assumes is just Alexia being stubborn. “Fine. But if you want to swing by at any time, the door is open.”

Alexia nods in acknowledgement. Both of them know she won’t.

There is a collective sigh of relief the exact moment the session is called to an end. There are no lingering chats today, everyone heads home just as fast as they physically can.

You’re on her couch, watching Rolland Garros, when Alexia arrives. She gets in your arms, settling against you. Your thumb traces slow circles on the skin of her stomach, and you kiss the crown of her head when the heavy, silent tears break through, her body shaking against yours.

Alexia is grateful you don’t ask questions or say words of reassurance, just let her cry and stay present. She hates it when she shows that kind of vulnerability, but you make it more bearable.

Alexia shifts in your arms after that, forcing you to lie down lower on the cushions so she can lie directly on top of you. Her face buries in the crook of your neck as your arms lock around her waist. She loses consciousness without realizing it, only surfacing when you shift beneath her. “Fuck, sorry,” you whisper softly. “I was trying to sneak away, just to get dinner ready.”

Said dinner consists of Eli’s reheated pasta on Alexia’s patio. She has accepted she can’t complain about eating at every meal considering her season is still ongoing.

At the table, you tell her that you managed to secure another day here in Barcelona, and that you won’t be heading back to Madrid until Wednesday morning. She knows you’re putting yourself in a bad situation for her, and she’s immensely grateful for it.She doesn't say it out loud, but she recognizes the professional risk you are taking by missing another day of training for her.

There’s also a small voice that tells her she doesn’t deserve it, you rearranging your life for such a new relationship, but your presence feels good enough to silence it.

For the evening, Alexia tries to convince you that it's a good idea for her to rewatch the game against Lyon. She needs to review it to point down where they failed, every single thing she and the team could have done better.

You force her to watch a dumb lesbian comedy instead. She puts up a vocal, dramatic protest, but secretly, she relishes the fact that you refuse to let her self-destruct. She’s settled comfortably in your arms the whole time, as you both joke about how bad the movie is, even if it makes both of you laugh.

When Alexia wakes up the next day, you are still fast asleep. She extracts herself silently from her position on top of you, careful not to wake you up. From what she has gathered, you are a heavy sleeper anyway, which makes slipping away unnoticed much easier.

She eats her breakfast in the quiet of the patio, scrolling through her phone to clear out the essential messages that stacked up. When she steps out of the bathroom after finishing her morning routine, she catches you starting to stir in the tangled bedsheets, still half-asleep and blinking against the light. The sight of you completely disarmed instantly brings a warm smile to her face.

Alexia leans over the bed to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m off to training, I’ll be back in the afternoon. My house is your house, and you can grab whatever you want from my closet. Text me if you need anything, I’ll answer as soon as I can.”

Your only answer is a groan of acknowledgment, making Alexia chuckle. She doesn’t want to leave, but she has to. She doesn’t think I wanted to cuddle with my girlfriend in bed  is a good excuse to be late for training. And it would lead to a lot of questions. Alexia kisses your cheek instead, and you sleepily mumble, “Have a good day, amor.”

Alexia’s smile grows even wider. “Have a great day too, cariño. See you later.” As she exits the bedroom, you shift under the sheets, settling deeper into the warmth of the covers. Alexia grabs the protein shake she prepared earlier on the counter, snatches her keys, and heads down to her car.

When Alexia arrives at the training ground, a lot of cars are already there. Training more is the way some of her teammates deal with the loss. Alexia can't help but think that a few of them arriving this early during the actual season would have been far more beneficial, a point she may make them understand later on. For now, however, the wound is simply too fresh for everyone.

The session itself carries a sharp, aggressive edge, as if every player on the pitch is trying to prove how good of a footballer they are. It must feel particularly bizarre for the ones who are leaving the club this summer, knowing they won’t even be around to get their revenge next year.

Alexia herself has trouble accepting it’s her last club training with Mapi after so many seasons together. Ona hasn’t been with the squad for nearly as long, but her departure will be a massive loss for the team as well. She knows a few other teammates might leave during the offseason too, and she hopes the impending changes won’t weaken the squad for the year ahead.

Alexia formally announces in the locker room right after training that she is officially activating her one-year option for next season, her agent has already announced it to the board. She ignores the sharp, questioning glances from the select few who know more than the rest, like Irene and Patri. The news seems to lift everyone’s spirits for a fleeting moment, even if the post-loss depression quickly settles back over the squad.

Afterward, the team eats lunch together in the facility's cafeteria, and Alexia feels immensely grateful for Kika, who apparently makes it her personal mission to cheer everyone up. Some would call that behavior a sign of immaturity or a lack of competitiveness, but Alexia knows she does it out of a desire to help everyone around her.

Even the standard sparks of the team, Vicky and Cata, sit staring down at their plates. Alexia makes a mental note to talk to Kika later. She needs to tell the younger player that she is allowed to grieve too, and that carrying the emotional weight of the entire locker room isn't her job.

For now, Vicky is seated directly across from her, playing with her food more than anything else. Then she looks up, and Alexia can feel Vicky’s gaze locked onto her, as if the teenager is trying to figure out a complex puzzle. “How do you do that ? Be so calm and collected despite the loss.”

Alexia is silent for a moment. She has received plenty of praise throughout her career, but being a graceful loser has never been on the list. To be fair, you coming to her house distracted her. Alexia knows the loss will hit her hard at one point, but you’ve delayed it. That’s a terrifying thought, so she decides to put it in the back of her mind.

She gives Vicky the scripted response, telling her to lean on family and friends and let them pull her through. It is the safe, hollow answer a captain is supposed to give. The rest of lunch passes mostly in silence, until Patri breaks it.

It’s as if the universe has decided it wants to punish Alexia for her cowardice. Patri raises her voice for everyone near the end of the meal. “The Spanish Federation just announced the roster.” She first lists everyone on the squad who made the cut : Cata, Ona, Irene, Mapi, Aitana (it gets a loud cheer), herself, Alexia, Clara, Salma, Claudia, and Vicky.

She then walks over toward Alexia and Vicky, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. “And the Federation finally got their heads out of their asses. Jenni is back on the team !”

The first emotion Alexia feels is genuine happiness, because Jenni absolutely deserves this after the utterly disgraceful treatment she has received from everyone at the RFEF. Plus, the national team badly needs a reliable number nine. But then a second realization hits her : you are very likely on that exact same roster, which means you and Jenni will be interacting constantly while you are actively dating Alexia.

This is a nightmare.

If she was worried about her closest friends sniffing out the relationship, Jenni is a certainty. Worse, Jenni loathes you, and Alexia knows the animosity goes both ways. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Ale, is everything okay ?” Patri asks, her brows furrowing at Alexia’s distinct lack of enthusiasm for what is supposed to be very good news.

Alexia swallows hard, trying to force her face back into a perfectly neutral expression. “Yeah, sorry. I just dissociated for a bit.” It’s a poor excuse, but Patri lets her have it, not having it in her to micro-analyze Alexia’s reaction.

She can already see her phone lighting up as the group chat explodes. Alexia opens WhatsApp, types out a quick congratulations to Jenni like she is supposed to, and immediately closes it. Her friends will just assume she is completely buried in her sorrow over Oslo.

Alexia is quietly humming in her car along to Rosalía, driving home from the training ground. Her mother calls, interrupting the music through the car speakers to invite her over to dinner tonight. Eli is thrilled when she learns that you are still in Barcelona, and Alexia promises to ask you if you want to come along.

She adds strict conditions before hanging up. First, both Alba and her mom must promise not to make the evening an interrogation, keeping it strictly as a casual getting-to-know-you dinner. Second, Alba has to keep her teasing on a tight leash. Third, any discussion regarding her contract is completely off-limits beyond the public announcement of her extension.

Eli is visibly confused about that last rule, but Alexia shuts the questioning down completely, simply forcing her mother to promise to follow the guidelines.

The house is silent when she enters. Alexia checks the home gym first, remembering you mentioned a plan to work out there at some point today, and then she moves to the bedroom, where she doesn’t find you either.

Walking over to the window, she looks down at the garden and finally spots you sunbathing on a lounge chair at the edge of the pool. She pauses, letting her eyes fully enjoy the view, the warm sun kissing your skin, which is only covered by a bikini. You are so fucking gorgeous it takes her breath away sometimes.

Considering you haven’t realized she is home yet, Alexia takes her time to have a quick shower and change into a swimsuit of her own before heading down to the patio. She isn’t entirely sure if you are asleep, since a pair of sunglasses is covering your eyes. Alexia’s sunglasses, obviously, because apparently that’s the one item you simply cannot stop stealing. You might benefit from an Oakley sponsorship.

“How was training ?” Alexia jumps at your voice, making you laugh. “Sorry for scaring you, amor.”

Alexia drops a short kiss to your lips before lying on the chair next to you. “I thought you were sleeping,” she explains. Alexia starts to trace small patterns on the inside of your forearm, you let out a small sound of appreciation that makes her smile. “Everyone is down at training, expected after that kind of loss.”

You hum in quiet acknowledgment, shifting slightly under the sun. “How is Vicky doing ? She stopped sending me Stitch memes every day, I’m getting worried.”

Seeing you look out for Vicky softens something deep in Alexia's chest. The kid is like her annoying little sister, so you two getting along, without Vicky even knowing Alexia is in a relationship with you, is precious. “Last year taught her a lot about knowing how to lose.” The youngsters came all the time to Alexia’s house at the time, and she let them because they needed to talk under the pretense of annoying her or playing games.

“Better to learn it sooner than later,” you state. Alexia agrees, even the greatest don’t spend their whole career winning, too many variables in football for that to happen. “She lost a bet with me by the way.”

That piques Alexia’s interest, red flags rising in her mind. She still remembers the Levante story. “What was it ?”

“I was supposed to do a TikTok dance with her if you guys won,” you explain, looking thoroughly pleased with yourself. “But you didn't, so now she has to wear my Real Madrid jersey, say Hala Madrid in front of the camera, and let me post it on my Instagram stories.” You seem immensely proud of your scheme. Vicky clearly brings out the more playful, childish side of you. Alexia isn’t sure she likes your connection anymore.

“The two ends of the bet are absolutely not even,” Alexia counters. You give her a dismissive shrug, prompting her to pinch your arm, earning a loud yelp. “Are you out of your mind ? The press would have an absolute field day with her.”

You seem to ponder her words for a moment, adjusting your posture. “People won’t take it for more than it is, Ale. Everyone will obviously get that it was just a lost bet. Vicky is from Madrid anyway, it’s already a massive shame she isn’t a Real fan.”

“It’s because she’s sane,” Alexia quips. You lift your sunglasses to shoot her a dark look, which has zero effect on her considering she is more than happy to just stare into your eyes. Deciding it's best to change the subject before the two of you spiral into a classic club debate that has no real winner, she clears her throat. “My mami called. She wants us to come over for dinner tonight.” Alexia feels the muscles under her fingertips tense.

“Are you sure ?” Your voice remains carefully neutral, leaving Alexia to guess at the exact nature of your hesitation.

“If I didn’t want you there, I simply wouldn’t have brought it up,” Alexia counters. She isn’t the type to play petty mind games, mostly because she knows she is terrible at them.

“Fair point. I’m in,” you say, the playful edge returning to your words, a clear sign that her directness has eased your nerves. “On one condition : you let me raid your closet for an outfit.”

“You’re asking as if you haven’t been actively stealing things from me anyway.” Alexia gently taps the sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose, and you lazily swat her hand away.

Instead of pulling away completely, she shifts her palm down to your stomach. Your skin is exceptionally smooth and soft, your abs relaxed considering you’ve been chilling on the lounge chair for quite some time now. The moment her hand rests there, you instinctively flex them, causing Alexia to roll her eyes, forgetting for a split second that you can’t even see her expression through the lenses. “Your afternoon wasn’t too boring ?”

You have stayed longer in Barcelona solely for her, and she spent most of the day at Joan Gamper while you remained behind at the house. You must sense her subtle anxiety, because your answer comes quickly. “I was out here by the pool the whole morning finishing my book, ate the last leftovers from your mom for lunch, spent the afternoon in your gym, and now I'm back here. Don’t worry, amor, the day was great.”

Alexia nods, happy with your answer. She missed you so much today, it’s ridiculous to feel this codependent when the relationship is still so fresh. Needing to erase the space between you, Alexia suddenly moves, laying herself on top of you. You let out a surprised laugh as your arms wrap around her waist to steady her. She can feel almost all of your skin pressed flush against hers, radiating heat from the sun, carrying the faint smell of sunscreen.

“You’re comfortable,” she whispers against your neck. You start to run your fingers on her back, tracing the lines of her tattoos, and Alexia settles even closer to you. She appreciates that you don’t comment on her clinginess. People usually take Alexia’s seriousness and authority in football as a sign that it’s how she is in real life. It’s almost vexing when they’re surprised she’s way softer than they thought.

“You do realize it’s gonna fuck up our tan, right ?”

Alexia opens her mouth to tell you she doesn't give a damn, but the words evaporate when your palm moves down to cup her ass. The intent is unmistakable, and Alexia is more than ready to lose herself in the distraction.

She’s about to let it go further when her phone rings, getting a groan out of both of you. It’s her agency who wants to settle the last details about the contract renewal announcement after the game against Sociedad. I don’t care is not considered an acceptable answer, and it apparently can’t wait until tomorrow, everything has to be planned today. Frustration radiates from both of you the whole call.

-----------

By the time the call ends, it is already time to get ready for dinner. You are a bundle of nerves, aggressively shifting through Alexia’s entire wardrobe while she simply watches you, entirely unbothered, which only serves to frustrate you even more.

The space is supposed to be a walk-in closet, but it is easily big enough to function as a spare bedroom. “How many designer pieces do you even have in here ?” you ask, eyeing a potential top with a highly critical look. “I can’t even see how you manage to wear half of them in your daily life.”

She quietly steps up behind you, circling her arms securely around your waist and dropping a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Cariño,” she murmurs teasingly, “she already saw you wearing a full Real Madrid tracksuit. Trust me, the bar is on the floor, it can't get worse than that.”

“It’s not the time, Alexia,” you mutter. She seems to finally catch on to your frustration, immediately shifting into a helpful partner as she guides you toward settling on a simple white tee shirt and a pair of blue jeans. You complain that the look is far too basic, but she firmly insists that it is perfectly fine for a casual family dinner.

Then she throws on a crop top and low-rise denim, destroying whatever focus you had left. It’s borderline criminal how good she looks in basic clothes. The truth is, you haven’t slept with her since she officially became your girlfriend. Considering the fragile state of her mental health after the loss, you obviously have zero intention of complaining about it. Even if she simply didn’t want to for no reason at all, you still wouldn’t complain. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t feeling incredibly frustrated.

As you head toward Mollet, the subject of the national team call-up list comes up. You don't bother hiding your annoyance about Jenni's return, though you accept the reality of it. There isn’t much to say about it with Alexia, she simply says she hopes the two of you will remain cordial. You promise to be civil, despite not even believing your own words. You know you will rummage over it in the next few days, but you refuse to let it affect your night with her.

The anxiety about dinner starts creeping back in as you get closer, and Alexia detects the shift. She does some detours around Mollet to show you all her favorite places growing up, from the football pitch she first played on to the park her parents used to bring Alba and her. The view into little Alexia's life does make you relax.

She pulls over outside a neighborhood bakery to grab a pastry box, leaving you in the passenger seat. Neither of you needs the media circus that would erupt if you were spotted running errands with Barcelona's captain in her hometown. Alexia slips back into the car, drops the bakery bag into your lap, and shifts into drive for the final leg of the trip.

When you are standing directly in front of her mom’s door, Alexia kisses you one last time to make sure everything is okay before finally knocking. The door swings wide open a second later, revealing Alba with a massive, highly entertained grin. Alexia immediately throws her a sharp, non-verbal don’t even start look that you catch from the corner of your eye.

Against all your worst-case scenarios, the night is remarkably easy. Eli welcomes you with open arms, genuinely curious about your life while you find some common ground with Alba because your sister is also a teacher. Alexia adds to the conversation but doesn’t control it, apparently relaxed at you meeting her family. It impresses you, because you definitely won’t be as calm when she meets yours.

There are no trap questions about your future intention, or how you both plan to make a high-profile, long-distance relationship work despite the demands of your jobs. They seem entirely focused on simply knowing you as a person, so much so that you are certain Alexia strictly briefed them at one point.

You exit right after the meal, having cleared your plate and helped wash the dishes, using your early morning flight as a polite excuse to head out. Alexia puts her arm securely around your hips and kisses the side of your head the moment you are out the door, right after you promise to have dinner with them again the next time you are in Barcelona. “So, it wasn't that bad, right ?” Alexia says cheekily.

You give her a theatrical roll of your eyes, though your shoulder immediately leans into her chest as the elevator doors close, taking you down to the garage. “They were really nice,” you admit easily, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “They made me feel very welcome.”

Alexia gives you a real smile at that, warm, soft, and completely unguarded. “I wouldn’t have made you meet them so soon if they weren’t like that.”

“Your sister was actually on her best behavior,” you note.

Alexia snorts. “Okay, I will admit I may have threatened her a bit earlier. Just so you know, I will endure relentless teasing from her next time we see each other because I tried to keep the peace tonight.”

You kiss her softly, and she reacts immediately, the hand against your hip gripping the fabric of your shirt to bring you closer. You’re interrupted by the ding of the elevator that announces you’re in the parking lot. “Come on,” she murmurs against your mouth, her breath warm. “Let’s get home.”

The drive home is spent with Alexia explaining in deeper detail anecdotes that were alluded to at dinner. You can’t help feeling sorry for her parents when Alexia recounts the time she broke a window by playing football in the living room, leading to a no football inside the apartment rule. In response, you tell her about the time your brother and you broke the TV when doing a juggling tournament.

The nighttime routine goes fluidly once you’re at her house. You have little enough stuff that it doesn’t require much packing to get ready to take the plane the next morning.

When the lights go out, you pull yourself onto her chest, letting the sound of her heartbeat soothe you. When her fingers start drifting lower, you intercept them, reminding her that she has a game to play tomorrow and a brutal morning alarm to suffer through for your sake, not to mention her exhaustion from the past few days. She offers a dramatic pout but relents, pulling you tight instead.

Dawn comes too quickly, and the ride to the terminal is a quiet, sleepy affair. Saying goodbye doesn't sting as badly when you know that she’ll be sleeping in your bed in less than a week. Even so, you completely lose yourselves making out in the front seat like high school kids, still tracking the minutes on the console so a lingering kiss doesn't cost you your flight.

The final weekend of the domestic calendar comes soon enough. There’s this weird air of anticipation around the team. Nothing to play for, but still this want to end the season on a high note.

The club hosts a massive gala to celebrate the past season, a traditional bittersweet milestone that you are still genuinely looking forward to. End-of-season goodbyes usually bring a sense of closure, and there are always one or two legendary anecdotes that form during the night.

As the captain, you are tasked every single year with delivering the main commemorative speech, followed by small, personal tributes to the players who are officially leaving the club.

Barcelona had their own party after the game against Real Sociedad, made even better by Alexia announcing her renewal to the world. She broke her sober-during-the-season rule, judging by the blurry pictures she kept sending you, alongside a chaotic stream of slurred voice notes and shaky videos. Apparently, Alexia is a happy drunk. It’s also the night you receive the first signs of life from both Aitana and Vicky after the loss, reassuring you.

You are heading straight to the party from the stadium, so you handed your house keys over to Aitana when you met her for coffee that morning, trusting her to deliver them to Alexia.

It is on this occasion that Alexia officially learns that Aitana has known about the two of you all along. You feel a bit guilty for completely forgetting to mention it to her, but in your defense, you simply didn't view it as critical information, and you genuinely assumed Alexia had already guessed. Alexia, however, strongly disagrees with your logic, judging by the angry voice note you received, even if she apologized hours later.

The victory against Granada is a close one, Real Madrid goes up 3–0 early, but the match finishes in a tense 3–2. The narrow margin does nothing to ruin the celebratory mood.

The opening hours of the gala are the worst part, a formal dinner with everyone involved in the club, including the higher-ups who only show up for appearances and a free gourmet meal, alongside the corporate sponsors who are just there to look good on Instagram. The most powerful executives don't even dignify the team with their presence, and the lower ones who do show up leave the second it is considered polite. Nobody misses them anyway.

The turning point is always the speeches. They’re a reminder of the human part of it all, why teammates will always be a bit more than coworkers. You even manage to make Misa cry during your goodbye speech, to everyone's astonishment.

You watch your teammates slowly descend into various states of drunkenness, some of them significantly more worrying than others. You are right in the middle of typing a response to Alexia’s text message about how to properly run your dishwasher when Misa suddenly throws a heavy, alcohol-warmed arm around your shoulders. “Will we see each other when you visit your girl in London ?”

It takes your brain a few seconds to catch up with what she’s saying. You entirely forgot that lie, because the team has mostly left you alone about it these last few days. “We will see.”

Misa scoffs and shakes your shoulder. “Don’t give me that. You look at your phone like a lovesick teenager and turn bright red the second we press for details.” She leans in, a drunken, scheming grin on her face. “Come on, Cap. Let me see a picture. Consider it a parting gift for making me cry earlier.”

You do consider it for a few instants, starting to feel genuinely bad for all the lies. Then you remember Misa is more friends with Alexia than with you, Alexia’s reaction to learning that Aitana knows, and you come to the conclusion that it isn’t your place to tell her without checking with your girlfriend first. Girlfriend, the label still sends a strange, electric jolt through your chest when attached to Alexia.

“It's still way too fresh for introductions,” you dodge, keeping your voice casual.

You’ve met her family.

Misa groans, shaking her head. “You’ve been sneaking around for two months, Cap. That card has expired. Come on, give me something. Is she a football player ? Is she married or in another relationship ?” She stares intently into your eyes, hunting for a tell, but your expression remains a total blank slate. “Ugh, I hate your poker face. Let me guess. Leah Williamson ? Alessia Russo ? Keira Walsh ? Lauren James ? Hannah Hampton ?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Great to see you’ve been doing your homework for our game next week.”

Misa locks her gaze onto yours, hunting for a crack in your defenses, but you just offer an amused arch of your brow. Her stubbornness finally breaks, and she lets out a long breath. “Do you realize how weird it’s going to be for me to not have you as my center back next season ?”

The abrupt change of subject wipes the smile off your face. “I’m not the one leaving,” you point out softly.

“Did you think about it ?” There’s a distinct layer of insecurity bleeding into her words now. It’s as if you saying no would somehow diminish the love and loyalty she holds for the club.

You look at her, realizing you owe her the truth on this one. “Yeah,” you admit quietly, the weight of the past few months hitting you all at once. “I actually had a complete meltdown during the last Spain camp.”

A flash of recognition passes over her face. “You were acting weird, yeah. I honestly thought it was about your girl.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing as she processes the timeline. “Is that why you talked to Ale so much ? Was she trying to convince you to come to Barça? Eva swore that's what was happening.”

You thought that line of thought was over for your teammates, but apparently not. You have to find a quick reason for talking to Alexia so much. You almost feel bad for Misa, she’s so close to the right conclusion, yet so far.

“No, she wasn’t,” you answer firmly. “Alexia understands a kind of loyalty that goes far beyond the badge. The kind that’s tied to a specific city and to deep memories. She gets it without being emotionally involved in Real Madrid itself, and she helped me see the bigger picture.”

There’s something in Misa’s eyes, as if it surprises her a bit from Alexia, but she doesn’t touch it. “The bigger picture made you stay ?” There isn't surprise in her voice this time, not exactly. It’s curiosity, mostly because Misa faced the same internal debate as you, only she arrived at a different conclusion. You realize in that moment that she might have even discussed the topic with Alexia herself.

“I don’t think I would have stayed if Madrid wasn’t my city.” You both took the right decision for yourselves. Not all roads lead to Madrid.

Misa studies your expression, tracking the sincerity in your eyes, and satisfies herself that you aren't just trying to soften the blow for her. “Look, I know I was pushing your buttons about London,” she murmurs, “but I mean it. I don’t want our friendship to just exist within the national team bubble.”

It’s always been hard for you, qualifying your relationship with Misa. She’s the one that you’ve always spent the most time with off the pitch. But you saw each other so much between training, games, and travel that your time off always stayed limited.

She did invite you on vacation after your first season together, in 2021, along with other football players, but you couldn’t go because you were going on your first vacation with Elena and it was already booked. After that, conflicts started to arise, and you’re quite sure Misa's other football friends didn’t want you there.

Then you think of Alexia, who was fumbling with your dishwasher minutes ago, and you realize you might actually see Misa outside of football more often than you imagined at first. Then it scares you that you’re thinking this much ahead.

“I’m sure we will, I will even let you meet my girl.” You wink at her, and she breaks into a smile, the small, completely genuine one that she doesn’t show often enough. You internally note that you will need to have a serious conversation with Alexia about what the actual plan is regarding telling people, because what the two of you are doing right now isn’t going to be manageable long term.

Misa gets up, offering her hand down to you. “Since when are we this sappy ? Are we getting old ?” You take her hand to stand up, letting out a genuine laugh.

“The drama of professional sports,” you state, and you both head toward your dancing teammates.

The clock on the wall reads 3:00 AM when you finally slide your key into the lock. The apartment instantly breathes a quiet confirmation that she’s here : her sneakers are paired with yours by the door, her jacket is neatly draped on the hook, and the kitchen carries the faint scent of a home-cooked tomato sauce. You drop your bag soundlessly, letting the golden glare of the city streetlights guide you down the hallway without flipping a switch.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar, and you can hear the soft, rhythmic sound of her deep breathing before you even step inside. Alexia is sprawled out on her stomach, the sheets kicked down to her waist, leaving the smooth expanse of her bare back completely exposed.

You’ve spent years cursing the street lamp positioned directly outside your window, but watching the light map the lines of her tattoos makes you take it all back. The sight of Alexia sleeping topless might genuinely be the death of you.

You quietly grab a pair of cotton shorts from your dresser and head toward the guest bathroom. You know you desperately need to wash off the night, but there is absolutely no way to run a shower without waking her up. You are certain you smell like spilled alcohol without having had a single drop to drink yourself.

After washing up as best as you can, you carefully slide into bed right next to her. Every instinct in your body wants to immediately pull her into a tight cuddle, but you hold yourself back to let her have her peace. You feel a quiet wave of pride when she doesn't even flinch as you settle into the mattress.

You’re groggy when you first start to emerge. You try to burrow deeper into your pillow to block out the world, but your brain jolts awake the exact second you realize your pillow is solid muscle. You let out a low groan, and Alexia immediately starts to drag her fingers gently down your bare back when she realizes you are finally awake. “Hola, cari,” she whispers softly, pressing a tender kiss to the very top of your head.

You struggle to open your eyes as the bright daylight hits your face, quickly hiding your face in the crook of Alexia’s neck to escape it. “It’s too early,” you complain, your voice thick with sleep.

Alexia laughs softly, and you can feel the quiet vibration of her chest shaking underneath you. “It’s eleven in the morning.”

That piece of information does wake you up completely. “Really ?” You shift slightly within her embrace so you are looking directly up at her. “You should have woken me up sooner. How long have you been awake ?”

“Two hours,” she shrugs casually. You instantly feel a wave of guilt wash over you. “It’s okay, cari. If it were bothering me, I would have gotten out of bed. I like having you in my arms.” She is entirely too romantic for your foggy, morning brain. You lean up to kiss her jawline, feeling her smile form directly against your lips.

“Come on, let’s not waste any more time.” You move away from her, earning a groan of disappointment. You grab a shirt from your dresser for yourself, putting it on quickly, and throw one at her too.

“You looked better five minutes ago,” she teases, her eyes tracking you. You just roll your eyes at her smug grin, fighting a smile of your own.

The start of the day is lazy. Breakfast consists of coffee on the balcony, stretch out together on the lounger with your back pressed against her chest. Then the heat forces you back inside, where you eat lunch sprawled across the living room sofa.

It’s early enough in the relationship to have tons of things to say and discover about each other, and the afternoon is filled with words and laughter. You get Alexia to play poker with you just because you thoroughly enjoy the defeated look on her face every time she realizes she’s been bluffed. She keeps playing, because Alexia is the type of person who tries again and again until she gets it right. She doesn’t.

What you’re doing for the night was debated on FaceTime a few days ago. The first instinct was to stay in, because of the risk of getting recognized. But the stubborn urge to be a normal couple and enjoy a real night out won the day.

You compromised on an ultra-exclusive restaurant where the menu prices act as a natural filter, the demographic paying those bills couldn't care less about women's sports, and on the off chance they recognize two World Cup winners, they’re far too concerned with their own status to cause a scene.

It is also the perfect occasion to dress up. Alexia and you prepare yourselves simultaneously in the two separate bathrooms. You opted for a sleek black dress, modest and formal enough for the restaurant, but that hugs your curves in specific ways that should absolutely do something to Alexia's composure.

You are waiting for her on the couch when you suddenly hear the click of her heels, causing your head to turn toward her. Your breath is immediately taken away. Alexia is wearing a stunning navy dress. The fabric looks incredibly expensive, and truthfully, so does she. You haven't seen Alexia in fancy clothes and elegant makeup since the two of you officially started dating.

What a view.

You rise to your feet, and her focus drops instantly, tracking the silhouette of your black dress. “Amor, my eyes are up here,” you tease, catching her gaze getting stuck a bit too low.

“I was just admiring your necklace,” she jokes back, looking up with a wicked glint in her eye. “Do we really have to go to dinner ? Can’t we just stay right here ?”

You can’t help but laugh at her whining. “Let’s go, Ale. It would be a shame to be late for a place this nice.”

The restaurant is located a bit outside of Madrid, suggested by a close friend. Alexia cannot tear her eyes away from you the entire time you are driving. Your right hand is intertwined with hers on her thigh, her thumb lazily caressing your knuckles. She lifts your hand to drop a tender kiss on the back of it, groaning in frustration when she realizes she has to wipe a smudge of lipstick off your skin, which makes you chuckle.

Your amusement instantly vanishes when the sudden clack of a releasing seatbelt echoes through the car. “What exactly do you think you’re doing ?”

She retrieves her phone from her purse while you fight to keep your focus strictly on the road ahead. “This look is entirely too good to not capture a car selfie. Plus, the seatbelt is hiding a major part of the dress.”

You stare ahead, gobsmacked. “I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one. We’re on the road, Ale. Put the belt back on,” you command.

Your captain's voice has little effect on her. She calmly snaps a few more pictures, entirely unfazed, before finally buckling herself back into the passenger seat safely.

You let out a sigh of relief.

When you get out of the car, you press your palm against the smooth fabric covering Alexia’s lower back as you cross the threshold of the restaurant. The venue strikes the exact balance you hoped for, classy without overdoing it. The hostess smoothly guides you directly to your table, without an ounce of recognition showing in her eyes as she reviews the name on your reservation.

As you settle into the leather chairs, you find yourself completely distracted, tracking every shift in Alexia’s posture as she scans the menu. She’s pulled her hair back, a choice that frames her face and draws attention to the hoops in her ears. The updo also allows your eyes to slowly trace the clean contours of her neck and the sharp line of her jaw. The navy dress itself perfectly highlights the strong, sculpted lines of her shoulders and arms.

“Any idea what you’re going to order ?” You jump slightly, caught off guard by the sound of her voice. The knowing look in her eyes tells you that she is fully aware you haven’t read a single syllable on the menu.

“I have a very good idea,” you answer smoothly, tracking your gaze up and down her body. The dark pink blush that creeps onto her cheeks is adorable.

Dinner is fantastic. The food itself is exceptional, but your company is even better. Just as you had hoped, the other patrons don’t pay you any mind.

By the time dessert arrives, the conversation naturally shifts toward the upcoming off-season. You catch Alexia anxiously twisting a ring around her finger, her usual confidence faltering just a fraction. You arch a brow. “Just ask what you want to ask, amor.”

The callout stops her movements. Her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek as she considers her words. “I’m going to Mexico in July, for my foundation work and then for a vacation. I looked at the schedule, and I could easily extend the trip by a few days. I wondered if you wanted to come along, so we could spend some time together after everyone else leaves. Just the two of us.”

It does something to your heart. The idea of spending a few uninterrupted days with Alexia on the other side of the world, in a private resort where most people have no idea who you are, sounds like paradise.

“I would love to,” you tell her, reaching out to lace your fingers through hers, your thumb tracing the sensitive skin of her palm. “I’m supposed to visit a friend in Los Angeles around then anyway, so the flight down to Mexico fits perfectly.”

Alexia beams instantly, looking as if she had genuinely prepared herself for you to say no. “Perfect, I will look into setting it all up then. Our friend group avoids inviting partners to the entire vacation because it can get distracting, but you could easily come one or two days earlier to see everyone. My mami will be there, and Alba is coming with her girlfriend, too.”

It’s obvious Alexia has been running this entire itinerary through her mind for days, a trait you find incredibly endearing. “You go to Mexico every single year with your friends and family, right ? I’ve seen that on your Instagram.”

Alexia’s smile turns instantly teasing. “Oh, so you’ve been checking my Instagram, have you ?” She laughs delightedly as the heat rushes back into your cheeks, turning you a deep red.

“Not my fault you post so many bikini pics,” you counter, throwing your hands up in mock defense. “But seriously, do you know we don't even follow each other ?”

The smug look vanishes from Alexia's face, replaced by a sudden, incredibly guilty flush of red. “Right. About that... I may have hit the block button on your account back when I was mad at you. It forced a mutual unfollow.”

Perhaps a part of you should feel a little hurt by the revelation, but you really aren't, you completely get it. You smoothly recenter the conversation. “So, you really love Mexico, then ?”

“I go often because of the foundation, and it’s a great vacation place so I invite people along. I can get deals with resorts, too. Also, no paparazzi there care about me.”

You scrunch your nose slightly at the mention of the media. “Yeah, they literally took pictures of me and my friends in Ibiza once, as if anyone on the planet actually cared about that.”

Alexia looks amused by this new piece of information. “From everything you’ve ever told me about your circle, you don't exactly strike me as the foam-party, club-hopping type.”

“Three of us went through breakups in the exact same summer. We needed to burn off some steam.” And burn off some steam you did. Your body count had an impressive rise during that week, truly wild memories, looking back on it. There is, however, no need to specify this to Alexia right now.

“But yeah, the paparazzi here in Spain can be absolute hell,” Alexia admits, taking a brief pause as she processes the thought. “I’ve completely given up on having any real privacy during my vacations here.” She stops for a moment, an idea clearly forming. “We’re going to Ibiza right after preseason ends, alongside with other football players. You should come along if you want to, people won’t link the two of us specifically.”

“So you’re planning to tell your football friends about us ?”

Alexia bites her lower lip, messing up her lipstick a bit in the process. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend. I don’t plan to hide you from my friends.” She takes a brief pause, her focus shifting downward. “I just... haven't figured out the delivery.” She is actively avoiding your eyes now. “They will have an opinion on it, and I honestly don’t want to hear it.”

The words sting a little, but you don’t let it show on your face. It’s your fault if the situation is what it is, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“Ibiza will be a good moment to tell them, whether you come or not,” she continues, finding her resolve again. “I will tell the Barça girls at the start of preseason. We usually do tons of team bonding then.”

She has really thought this through, and she genuinely plans to tell the last group of people who matter soon enough. It makes the relationship feel incredibly real now. Looking at her under the soft restaurant lights, you realize you want it. The U-Haul stereotypes are turning out to be accurate. “I’ll give you an answer on Ibiza soon.”

She nods, the tension melting from her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it too much, it can completely be a last-minute decision. It’s not like you will need to book another room in the villa we’re renting.” She throws you a wink so painfully uncoordinated that you can’t restrain a loud laugh.

“We’ve officially found something else you’re absolutely terrible at, besides poker,” you joke, leaning back in your chair.

“I don’t know why everyone says that, I have definitely improved,” she pouts, and your heart completely melts. She winks at you a second time as if to prove she can actually pull it off. It is completely ridiculous, breaking the last of the tension as you both laugh together.

After some battle, you’re the one who wins the right to pay for dinner, justifying it with the fact that you’re in your city. Alexia reluctantly concedes defeat, but she promises to give it back when you’re together in Barcelona.

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A/n : So at first I wasn't planning at all to have Alexia wanting to leave Barça. Then on Friday I saw all the itws where she said she never wanted to retire there, plus @solongmylove818 comment on AO3 regarding how losing the UWCL final was the perfect way to justify Alexia staying, and I decided to include the contract part.

Also, we're getting close to the Jenni and r interactions 👀

And Ale needs to get better at this communication thing, doesn't she ? 😬