JaegerAether

Alexia crossed the room without another word, movements sure, like she already knew she was wanted there. She took off her extra clothes and slipped into the bed beside her, the mattress dipping, warmth returning to the space Delaney had been too aware of earlier.

“You drove too fast-”

Delaney noticed the redness around her eyes and inhaled sharply, reaching out to touch. Alexia shook her head a little too fast, brushing it off with a small huff of breath like it didn’t matter. Like she had better things to be focusing on.

She slid closer, one arm sliding around Delaney’s waist, pulling her in close, forehead resting against hers.

“Estoy bien,” she murmured. I’m okay.

Delaney didn’t argue, just let her be close, hands settling at her ribs, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Alexia’s thumb traced once along her waist, slow and grounding.

“Repítelo.” Say it again.

Delaney knew exactly what she meant.

Her heart steadied instead of racing this time. No panic. No overwhelm. Just truth.

“I love you, Alexia.”

The words landed softer now, but deeper.

Alexia’s breath stuttered out, her hand tightening on Delaney’s body as her eyes closed for a second like she needed to feel it fully.

Delaney waited for her to be ready and when her eyes opened – she leant in first, their lips meeting more urgently than she’d expected. It was warm, reassuring - the kind of kiss that said I’m here.

After half a minute she tasted salt and heard the stuttered whimpers of the Spaniard beneath her lips.

“T’estimo.” I love you. She sobbed. “T’estimo, Danny.”

Her heart squeezed at her sobs.

And god, she missed the feel of her lips. The taste. The way their mouths and tongues moved together as if they shared a brain.

Alexia kissed the edge of her mouth, her chin, jaw. “I need to asking jou something, nena.”

Delaney nodded her head against her own, still very much under her spell. “I have things we need to talk about too.”

“Mmn?” She pulled back to study Delaney, and the Australian couldn’t help but feel guilty at the worry on her face. “Jou first.”

“About our future…” she whispered.

“Together?”

“Sí, Ale.”

She noticed her eyes widen, her pupils dilate as she listened just as intently as she always did with her.

“I can’t do vague with you,” she admitted. “Not with… this.” Her fingers slid into Alexia’s hair, grounding herself in the softness of it. “I’ve realised over the past few days that it’s something I need. The one day at a time doesn’t work for me here. I need us to have a plan… to make sure we have the same goals.”

Alexia shifted and for a moment, it felt like she was pulling away. But then she was up on one elbow, her large hand curved around the shape of Delaney’s cheek.

She nodded with a gentle smile. “Sí, we talk.”

She hated it – how much she needed this. How much she needed Alexia to meet her there.

“What plan jou needing?” Alexia asked, thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”

“It’s not… just about staying. It about our plans for finances and careers, living arrangement and… family expectations…”

Her eyes flashed.

She touched the dark patches under her hazel eyes. “B…but we can talk about this tomorrow, Ale.” 

Alexia shook her head.

“You’re exhausted...”

“I no sleep – I will keep think of this.”

Delaney chuckled. “Me too. I know it’s not the most romantic topic.”

“You think planning life with me is no romantics?”

“Touché.”

She gave a proud smirk.

“So… we talk.”

“Jou ask, I answer, no?”

“Okay… where do you see yourself in five years? Ten years?”

“I wan’ to play until I can no more… I hope for another five to ten year if I keep my body healthy i strong…”

“And you’d like for that to be at Barça?”

“Claro. I want to retires here.”

“Mmn. So you’d want to live in Barcelona the rest of your life?”

Alexia chewed on her lip as she procrastinated the answer – as if she were worried Delaney wouldn’t want it. “Is my home… I want to travels but…”

“…but you’re literally the Queen of Barcelona. Even without the club, all of your family and friends are here. Your dream home is here. You’ll still have commitments here after retirement with your foundation.”

She could see the hope drain from Alexia’s expression.

“Jou want Austràlia?”

“I do love Barcelona, Ale. I could live here… but I’d want to visit home often. And I’d want you to see it..”

She nodded too quickly. “Claro… yes… I want.”

“It’s really pretty where I’m from. Similar temperatures.” She smirked. “Better beaches…”

Alexia grinned. “Sí? I make decision when jou taking me.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be smart enough to admit it.”

She waggled her eyebrows cockily.

“If I bought a house in Australia, would you be against it?”

Alexia shook her head. “No, but I want us to buy together.”

“You’d want to share finances?”

She shrugged. “I no mind to share my money with jou – I save a lot.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re richer than me.”

Alexia squinted curiously. “Jou only play few year…”

“Mmn – and I’ve worked since I was 17. Most of it wasn’t what you were earning… but still, I have a nice, growing portfolio. I have a decent amount compounding in stock market investments, and a few apartments in Australia that I rent out.”

Alexia resembled a surfaced fish for a few seconds – her mouth opening and closing.

“You do know my specialty is finance, right…?” She slapped her cheek lightly. “I did tell you this.”

“I know, I listen. I just no think about this.”

She was surprised at catching Alexia so off-guard. “Is it because you’re used to being with partners you’re richer than?”

Her expression said yes.

“Please don’t tell me you supported them too?”

“They have few… project…”

“I’m very much a believer of half-half, Ale. I used to be like you. I was always the person who paid for everyone else all the time, making sure no one else had to worry, no matter who it was.”

Alexia’s gaze flicked back to hers.

Listening.

Always listening.

“I had to force myself out of that habit,” Delaney admitted. “Because it became unhealthy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than happy to cover any deficits et cetera, and if someone is struggling or tight with money, I’d insist on paying for lunches and such. I’d never, ever want finances to be held over anyone’s head, in any situation. That’s not fair.”

Delaney’s fingers slid slowly through Alexia’s hair again, grounding herself in the familiar softness.

Alexia’s gaze darkened slightly, as if she could see the people that had fucked over Delaney. “I never do that.”

“I know… so half-half keeps things clean. Keeps things fair. Keeps us… equal.”

“An if one of us earn more?”

She shrugged. “We can reassess a percentage if that feels fairer. I just don’t want finances to be the centre of our life.”

“We have a.. share uh account?”

“We can have our own accounts… and then a shared one if you like?”

“I like together.”

Of course she did.

Delaney couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Okay,” she murmured. “We both contribute equally. Shared account covers bills, utilities, rent - all the boring adult things.” Her fingers traced slow patterns along Alexia’s neck as she spoke. “Then we keep personal accounts for savings, hobbies, investments, charities… whatever we each want.”

“And investings?” Alexia asked.

Delaney’s eyebrow lifted faintly.

“Separate or together?”

“Mmn… both?”

Delaney laughed softly. “God, you’re cute when you’re being financially responsible.”

Alexia squinted slightly. “I yam always cute.”

“Cocky – but true.”

Alexia’s spanked Delaney’s ass in retaliation, earning a soft laugh that dissolved easily into the warmth between them.

“We can explore shared investment options,” Delaney continued more softly. “Long-term growth, property, portfolios… things that build stability for both of us.”

“Jou like this.”

“I do strangely love finances,” she admitted, a little embarrassed. “Every single part of it.”

“I like when jou talk about this. Jour eyes go happy.”

Delaney wrinkled her nose and Alexia laughed, kissing it.

“So…”

Delaney’s breath hitched faintly.

“We talk finance…”

“Mmn.”

“Career…”

Her voice dropped.

“Living…”

Delaney’s pulse flickered low in her stomach.

Alexia leaned closer, her mouth brushing slowly along Delaney’s jaw, her hand sliding to her lower back to press her closer.

“Now,” she murmured softly, warm against Delaney’s skin, “we talk family, no?”

“…family,” she repeated softly.

Alexia’s hand remained firm at her lower back - possessive, steady, grounding - though Delaney could feel the subtle change in her posture, her hips moving forward.

“Sí,” Alexia murmured gently, her nose brushing lightly along Delaney’s jaw. “Important topic, no?”

Delaney huffed a faint breath, somewhere between a laugh and nerves.

“Terrifying topic. But we’re not exactly young…”

That earned the softest exhale of amusement against her skin.

Alexia pulled back just enough to properly see her, her fingers sliding lazily along Delaney’s spine while her gaze searched her face with that familiar, disarming intensity.

“Why terrify?”

Delaney hesitated.

“My family is…” She exhaled slowly. “Very Australian.”

Alexia’s eyebrow lifted faintly.

“I notice.”

Delaney laughed softly.

“No - I mean culturally. Emotionally. Practically.” Her thumb brushed absently along Alexia’s collarbone. “We’re not like you.”

Alexia tilted her head slightly, listening.

“We’re independent to a fault,” Delaney continued quietly. “Everyone lives scattered. Different cities, different states. Tall poppy syndrome is deeply rooted. We grow up assuming distance is normal.”

Alexia’s fingers slowed against her back.

“There are expectativas?” she asked softly.

“Not really. No pressure to stay close. No pressure to build your life around family structure. No assumptions about where you’ll live, who you live with, or who you’ll become.”

Alexia studied her carefully.

“That sound…” She paused briefly.

"Free?" It's usually what everyone assumed.

“…lonely.”

Delaney’s breath caught slightly because Alexia had a brutal talent for accidentally hitting truth with her.

“Sometimes,” she admitted softly, knowing it was an under-exaggeration. 

Silence settled between them, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Alexia’s hand resumed its slow movement along Delaney’s back, softer now, slower, the touch carrying something unmistakably thoughtful.

“Mi familia,” Alexia murmured quietly, “yam very… involve.”

Delaney smiled faintly. “That’s one word for it.”

Alexia huffed softly. “We loud. Close. Yalways everywhere.”

“I know.” She said, admiringly.

Alexia’s gaze flicked to hers. “Jou like?”

Delaney traced the curve of her ear. “I strangely love it.”

Relief softened visibly in Alexia’s expression. “Is like fate, no?”

Delaney scoffed. “You-”

“-yalways say the right thing?”

Delaney laughed softly.

“Yes,” she murmured, “you really do.”

A silent stare passed between them – both more than aware that they were waiting for Delaney to be ready to speak.

“…can I tell you something?” Delaney murmured softly.

“Any things.”

“Your mum asked me something.”

Alexia’s brow creased slightly, curiosity flickering behind her eyes. “What she ask?”

Delaney hesitated, only briefly. “She asked me if I wanted kids.”

She noticed the slight tightening of her fingers.

“…an' what jou say?”

“I told her I never used to.”

Alexia studied her face with that familiar, unnerving focus.

“Jou no think about eet?”

“I never used to. But lately…” Delaney murmured, her thumb brushing slowly along Alexia’s jaw, “…I’ve started picturing things I never used to picture.”

Alexia’s gaze darkened slightly. “Like what?”

Delaney hesitated. “…a life that doesn’t feel temporary. A life with you.”

Alexia’s breathing shallowed.

“And the possibility of this all being as real as it feels,” she admitted quietly. “The thought of bringing a little Alexia to a game to watch you play.”

Silence. The gold was gone from Alexia’s eyes as they focussed on the words coming from her lips.

“Would that be something you’d want, Ale?”

Delaney met her eyes.

“Sí,” she responded so huskily that the word almost didn’t come out. “I yalways want my own familia.”

“You never thought you’d get the option with football?”

Alexia’s mouth twitched faintly. “I think I become too old.”

“You thought you’d have to choose between kids and football.”

Alexia looked so vulnerable that Delaney pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I like idea of… home that is alive.”

Exactly like what she’d grown up with.

“…what does that look like for you?”

Alexia’s expression softened faintly. “Mmn… noise.”

Delaney smiled. “Of course.”

“Children running everywhere. House never quiet. Football all around.”

Delaney laughed softly. “That sounds exhausting.”

Alexia grinned. “I like. I yam very high energy person.”

“That is objectively false outside football.”

Alexia laughed quietly, though her gaze softened again. “An jou? What abouts now?”

The question came gently.

“I know that whatever I have with you, will be beautiful. I know that football isn’t my passion – but I’ll always be grateful for it because I feel that through it, I’ve found my meaning.”

That gold streaked through those hazel eyes of hers again. “So where jou see in five and ten year, carinyo?”

She took a breath. Alexia was ready for it, but regardless, her fingers closed around her shirt as if worried she’d run away screaming.

“I see myself enjoying football for another year or two... and then getting back into finance. Working my way back up the chain again – earning good money and stabilising my prospects for the future. I see myself bringing proud little Alexia’s to your games just to watch you play, while they scream from the stands with your jersey on.”

She wiped the tear falling down Alexia’s cheek.

“I see…”

Delaney’s fingers tightened in Alexia shirt.

“I see a home.”

Another tear.

“I see stability.”

Alexia’s palm slid up the flat of her back, as if she was desperate for more contact.

“I see routines I’m not used to. Family, work, training. I see the chaotic lives of living with kids.”

She was pretty sure she was crying now too.

“I see your family walking in without knocking.”

Alexia huffed quietly. “That will definitely happen.”

“I know.”

Delaney smiled faintly.

“And I see mine slowly realising you’re never leaving.”

Alexia’s breath hitched.

“I see silly little arguments that don’t go further than the door because of how much we love each other.”

“I will yalways let jou win.”

“One of us will always come crawling back within a matter of minutes.” She agreed with a chuckle.

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

“I see loving you being the easiest decision I ever make.”

Alexia’s bottom lip quivered and she buried her head in Delaney’s neck. She wrapped her arms around the Spaniard instantly.

“I love jou…” Alexia whispered, voice wrecked, fragile, completely unguarded. “Joder, Danny…”

Delaney’s chest constricted violently.

She stroked Alexia’s hair, holding her there, feeling the tremble she never allowed anyone to see.

“I love you too, Ale. And I choose you. I choose us.”

Alexia nodded into her neck.

“So if you agree... I think we should get it over with and go public.”

Another excited nod.

“We can wait until tomorrow if you’d like. It’s getting late, and we should get some sleep.”

Alexia’s head popped up. “This no wait. Jou are mine.”

She rolled over to the bedside table and grabbed her phone. She played around for a minute or so and then handed it to Delaney.

It was an unsent Instagram post: Alexia training, paella by the beach in Garraf, Alexia with flour on her nose as they made pizza – staring at the person behind the camera like they were the world, Alba’s photo of the pair leant up against each other outside – arms draped lazily over each other, a selfie of Alexia at a brand photo shoot, Delaney in the passenger seat of Alexia’s car – bikini on, towel draped over her legs, and Alexia’s hand in her own.

Caption: The favourite Spaniard.

Her breath caught. “I love it, Ale.”

“Sí? I tag jou… I post?”

Delaney cradled her cheek again. “You want this? Everything we just spoke about?”

Alexia rolled onto Delaney and sat up, straddling her.

“I want.”

She hit ‘post’ and threw her phone off the bed, her lips finding Delaney’s again. This time, hungrier.

Alexia’s knee slid down to press up against the evidence of her earlier orgasms in the night. Her thighs widened immediately.

“Ale…mmn - god... your tongue…ah… Ale?”

“Mmn – sí, nena?”

“What…” she groaned as Alexia’s mouth moved to her neck. “You had a question for me earlier… what was it..?”

Alexia chuckled. “I was go to ask if jou cum before I get here.”

Delaney paused. “What?!”

Alexia’s teeth nipped at her bottom lip. “My side on the bed is wet. Jou cum without me, huh?”

Delaney moaned as Alexia’s hand slid into the wrecked underwear that she most definitely should have replaced before she’d arrived.

“Jou cum without me, nena?”

“Wh…what?”

She could genuinely feel her clit twitch at the sudden aggressiveness of her as her fingers worked her little bundle of nerves just like she loved.

“I… I…”

Alexia’s teeth nipped at her jaw. “Answer me.”

“Yes, I came without you.”

“Jou think of me?”

“I can’t cum anymore without thinking of you, Ale.”

“Bé.” Good.

She pulled up Delaney’s singlet and wrapped her lips around one of her excited nipples. She bit and tugged, just hard enough that her clit spasmed, not hard enough to hurt too much. A little pain was always a good thing.

“Jesus Christ.”

“No… la reina.” Alexia corrected as she worked her mouth down her body.

She must have been as sick of her underwear as Delaney was, sliding them off her legs and tossing them somewhere far away. Her hands parted her legs for her tongue to stroke up through her.

Delaney’s entire body shuddered and she heard Alexia chuckle.

She pressed her mouth against her gently, her tongue moving so soft and delicately over her clit, that she could barely feel it.

But her body certainly could.

It continued to tremble uncontrollably, as if being edged and only her nerve-endings were aware.

Delaney tried to push her deeper, but her neck was too strong. She was stubborn and would only do what she wanted.

Typical Alexia.

“This is what jou want, nena? To be in controls?”

“I like it,” she whimpered. “Oh fuck, I love it…”

“Mmn?” Alexia responded, her noise vibrating through Delaney’s clit.

“But I need you inside me.”

Alexia dipped her thumb in just to the first knuckle and was rewarded with a pool of moisture.

“The strap, Ale… please.”

The Spaniard took a few more minutes to edge her clit delicately to the point of almost pain, and a lot of frustration.

She whined as her mouth pulled away and she stood.

As she stripped her clothes and retrieved the strap from the bottom of her bedside table, she couldn’t help but look at the beautiful, fucked out woman on the bed and that desperate, pleading expression on her face. Alexia wasn't used to using a strap-on so often in her previous relationships, and although she also loved it, she did wonder where the obsession with it came from.

“Why jou like this so much, carinyo?”

Delaney readjusted herself more towards the centre of the bed, her pillow in a comfortable position, her legs spreading like a good girl.

“I love the heaviness of your weight pressed down into me. I love that you have your hands free.” She chewed her lip as she stared at Alexia’s ass. “I love that you have to work for it… the feeling of your hips fucking into me.”

Funny, those were all the things Alexia loved most about it also.

ALEXIA POV

She couldn’t remember being tired. Not when Delaney was on her knees, lip in between her teeth as Alexia tugged back on her hair.

She managed about half of the length when she felt her body tensing – and didn’t push further just yet. They’d only just bought this new strap and it was noticeably thicker and longer than the others. It had been a new obsession of hers to test just how much she could take – as if it directly reflected her opening emotionally.

Delaney tried to slip a hand behind her under the strap and Alexia slapped it away. She groaned as Alexia’s hand connected hard with her ass as punishment, and she felt her body loosen up slightly more.

“Nena, I go a little bit more deep.”

“There’s more?!”

“Sí, nena. Jus’ a lil more. Sé buena para mí.” Be good for me.

Delaney’s body handled a few more inches at the same pace. Her knees slid apart further to accommodate.

Alexia’s thumb collected the wetness dripping down the inside of Delaney’s thigh and yanked her head back, offering it to her.

She took the entire thing in her mouth, of course, the pad of Alexia’s thumb sliding down the flat of her tongue. Alexia swore.

“I yam proud, nena. Lo tomas como si fuera tuyo.” You take it like is yours.

Delaney arched her spine and threw it back, her body almost taking the entire thing. “It IS mine.”

Alexia let out a string of curses in Catalan.

Delaney pressed her face into the bed and practically did Alexia’s job for her – meeting her half way with a wet sound.

“Argh, I love when I can’t understand you, Ale.”

“Jou take so good, nena.” Her muscles ached in the best way and she pushed against the warm strain. “This is what jou wanting, no?”

“Oh fuck, yes.” She slipped forward off the strap and spun, grabbing Alexia and pulling her down on top.

Alexia pressed her legs apart and sunk back into her. She watched in awe as Delaney’s lips parted, her expression a mixture of pain and absolute pleasure.

She heard her phone vibrating somewhere in the distance, and smirked at the thought of the post. She felt like she was celebrating a World Cup.

Alexia fucked her shallow, hitting the spot that made her legs shake, and Delaney cried out as she took it.

“Jou like it there, no? Huh?” She pinched one of her nipples, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger before slapping it. “Right there? Jou cum like this?”

“Oh Ale… oh fuck… oh fuck…” Her nails scraped up Alexia’s back as she pulled her close.

Alexia loved the way she needed her close when she was about to---

“-cum in me.”

Delaney’s nails left marks which felt like earned trophies to Alexia.

“Say again.”

“Cum in me, Ale.” Her lips touched her ear, breath warm and sending a tingle radiating down Alexia’s spine. “You want kids? Act like it and fucking cum inside me.”

“Jou beg me.” She demanded as Delaney’s teeth tugged on her bottom lip – their tongues meeting.

“Please, Ale.”

Delaney sucked a mark into her neck as her hips moved to meet her. “More, nena.”

“Please, Alexia… please. Cum inside of me… fuck me. Make me take it.”

“Ets meva.” You’re mine. Her tongue stroked over Delaney’s. “Ets jodidament meva.” You’re fucking mine.

“God, I’m yours.” Her fingers tangled in Alexia’s hair and pulled her closer. “All yours, Ale.”

Alexia whined, most of her body weight now pressed on Delaney. She grabbed the headboard for a better grip and Delaney took hold of her exposed bicep, thumb stroking across her tattoo there.

“I give jou all now, nena. Spread jour leg.”

Delaney moaned and somehow parted her legs further. She could feel that her body was beyond ready for more, as was Alexia. She felt her entire body tingle and go cold like it usually did before she came. But she still needed to be mindful of the fucked out Australian below her.

Regardless, Alexia was tender for the first full stroke into her. She hadn’t expected her to take everything for a few months but today was different. Today, Delaney’s willingness to build a future with her was evident in the way her body soaked around her, dripping onto the bed. Alexia could feel it on her thighs, a mixture of hers and her own. She grunted as she slapped the strap into her again. And again. The sound of the bedroom echoing with the pornographic sounds of their bodies – their throats rasping out whatever sounds they couldn’t hold back.

Especially Delaney whimpering below her like she'd never been fucked so well in her life.

“I know, mi putita, I know. Jou can take.”

Alexia railed her into the bed with an aggression even she was surprised at. She felt the sweat cool on her body, the tenseness of her muscles beneath her skin, the throb of her clit as it was rewarded with each pump.

“Oh fuck…. oh jesus christ.. argh… Ale, FUCK!”

“Lo sé, nena… lo sé.” I know baby, I know.

She cried out, herself. “Hostia, puta... sí!" Fucking hell, yes!

“Please fucking please, Ale. PLEASE. Cum in me. Fuck… cum with me.” Alexia’s head spun like she was on an entirely different planet. This was what heaven felt like, surely. “Por favor… si us plau… I’ve been a good girl, Ale – argh… pleas- argh!”

Delaney’s teeth sunk into the flesh of her shoulder as she came, her body bucking more wildly than it ever had. It set Alexia off into the most life-altering orgasm of her life, her muscles pumping while spasming – the pair thrashing wildly together as their bodies fucked to drag out that feeling of utter bliss.

Their bodies collapsed into the mattress in a tangled, breathless heap, limbs heavy, lungs burning, the violent intensity of the moment dissolving into trembling aftershocks that twitched beneath their skin. Alexia’s chest heaved against Delaney’s, both of them slick with sweat, hearts still racing as they caught their breath.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Couldn’t.

Delaney’s grip on her shoulders remained tight, fingers still curled into warm skin as her breathing struggled to steady. Alexia’s forehead rested against her collarbone, her own lungs dragging in air that felt thick, insufficient, her entire body humming in the best kind of way.

“Jesus Christ…” Delaney whispered hoarsely.

Alexia let out a weak, breathless laugh against her skin.

“Mmn…”

Delaney’s fingers slid into Alexia’s damp hair and stroked slowly - grounding, soothing, the touch feeling extra soft after the ferocity that had preceded it.

“That…” Delaney exhaled shakily, “…felt illegal.”

Alexia huffed softly and she wriggled off the harness. Her arms tightened lazily around Delaney’s waist.

“I yam muy buena at my job.”

Delaney laughed. “The very best.” She stroked her cheek gently. “And now I know you’re going to sleep well.”

“I yalways sleep goods with jou.” She said, her words already slurring.

She lifted her head, her hazel eyes still dark but softened now, searching Delaney’s face with that familiar intensity that somehow felt entirely different in the aftermath.

Delaney met her gaze.

And something shifted.

Because beneath the exhaustion, beneath the haze of adrenaline and pleasure and breathless recovery – there it was. That look.

That unmistakable, unguarded warmth that still occasionally caught Alexia off-guard with its sheer sincerity.

Delaney was happy.

Alexia’s thumb brushed slowly along Delaney’s cheek and she was rewarded with a soft smile.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured.

Alexia’s gaze flicked between her eyes, her mouth, like she was still reacclimating to reality.

“T’estimo.” I love you. “An I like how I can say this now.”

Delaney’s expression softened.

The world around Alexia tended to disappear whenever Delaney was happy. It was an expression so pure that she wanted to do whatever it took to keep it there.

She felt her fingers slide gently along Alexia’s shoulder, tracing over what Alexia assumed was the bite mark there.

Her voice was softer now. Damaged from the past few hours. “I love you too.”

Delaney’s healing fingers moved down to stroke over the marks on Alexia’s back.

“You okay?”

Alexia blinked faintly, then smiled, completely wrecked.

“Mmn…”

Delaney grinned at her cheeky expression.

“That didn’t answer the question.”

Alexia leant forward and kissed her.

Slow.

Lingering.

When she pulled back, her voice was softer, sleep-heavy, content.

“I yam perfect.”

Delaney laughed softly. “Of course you are.”

She wondered on the simple, extraordinary reality of Delaney Baker lying in her arms, utterly undone and completely hers.

Alexia’s head dropped back onto the pillow beside her; one arm still draped heavily across Delaney’s waist as exhaustion finally began to claim what adrenaline had temporarily stolen.

She felt her heavy eyelids begin to win their battle as her breathing slowed.

She could feel Delaney’s gentle gaze and felt safe under it.

“Sleep, Ale,” Delaney murmured softly against her temple.

Alexia’s lips twitched faintly. “Mmn…”

She wanted to reach out, to stroke her cheek. She wondered if she’d lean into it or be confused at the pushing and pulling. Asking for space and then contradicting herself. She didn’t deserve that.

“Está bien…” It’s okay, Alexia murmured, her hand extending across the centre console.

Delaney took it without hesitation, like it was the most precious thing in the world to her. She couldn’t help but noticed the small, happy quirk of Alexia’s lips as she did so.

She studied those lips as one hand held Alexia’s, the other stroking patterns onto the back of it. Alexia drove with one hand on the wheel, posture now more relaxed than contemplative.

Mariona made a sudden sound from the back seat and Delaney turned to see her curled in on herself, eyes closed, already half-asleep. She grinned at the sight of her friend.

“She have a long day...” Alexia commented quietly.

“Mmnhmn. She's been feeling homesick. She really wanted to come over and see everyone, even just for a day.”

“Es Mariona,” That’s Mariona. Her voice softened. “She come for jou too… sí?”

“She told you?”

She shook her head. “Jou meaning a lot to her, carinyo. Mari does anythings for her friends.”

Delaney hesitated only for a second. “She must have known I needed a good vent.” She chuckled. “I’m going to make her breakfast tomorrow as payment for the therapy.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “I make jou needing therapies?”

“No, Ale. I make me need therapies.” She squeezed her hand. “To be better for you.”

Alexia didn’t respond, but she could see her processing. She gave her a minute or so to think.

When they turned the corner to Mariona’s apartment, she felt her chest tighten.

“Gracias por llevarnos a casa, Ale,” Thank you for driving us home, Ale, she said quietly.

Alexia nodded. “Claro.”

The car slowed outside the building. Alexia pulled in smoothly, engine idling as the streetlight washed over the pavement.

Mariona stirred. “¿Ya?” Already? She murmured, blinking herself awake.

“Sí,” Alexia said gently. “Estamos.” We’re here.

Mariona smiled, leaning between the seats for a quick kiss to Alexia’s cheek. “Gracias, capitana.” She winked at Delaney and jangled her set of keys. “I go for shower.”

They watched her walking into the building in silence.

Alexia’s hand stayed in her own. Delaney reached over and turned the car off.

“I still need a little time to think this through…” she admitted.

Alexia nodded unsurprised. “Lo sé.” I know.

“And tonight…” Delaney exhaled slowly, feeling guilty. “That wasn’t me changing my mind.”

She nodded again, her head touching her headrest. She could tell from her eyes and her frown that the Spaniard had more to ask but didn’t.

That nearly broke her. She felt her heart squeeze.

“You make it really hard to take space from you,” Delaney admitted.

Alexia huffed a quiet laugh. “Bé.” Good.

Delaney smiled despite herself. She brushed her fingertips along Alexia’s knuckles, tracing the length of her fingers with her own.

Alexia tugged at her hand. “Come.”

“You don’t have to walk me up...”

“I yam no ready to let jou go yet.” She murmured, stubbornly.

The lift ride was quiet as they stood together, hands clasped, shoulders touching.

The floors ticked by as they alternated between who was watching who.

Not in a hungry way. Not even expectant.

Just… admiring.

The lift slowed. Doors slid open.

Delaney stepped out first, guiding them to the apartment door.

She opened her mouth to speak and Alexia shook her head.

“Please no ask me to come in, nena. Because I wheel. And I stay.”

“Oh, Ale..”

“I want no to push,” Alexia said carefully.

“You’re not..” she said, stepping closer, placing a reassuring hand to her chest. “You’re perfect.”

They stood there for a moment, facing each other, the air between them heavy with everything unresolved. That guilt kicked in again.

“I’m sorry again for tonight.” Delaney said. “That wasn’t about confusing you. Or sending mixed signals.”

“I like it...” Alexia said huskily. “I know what eet was.”

Delaney laughed quietly, a little broken. “You know… you always say the right thing.”

“No,” Alexia said, tucking a strand of her hair behind the Australian's ear. “I listen. I jus’ know jou.”

Delaney raised an eyebrow.

Alexia rolled her eyes. “When it is jou, I listen.”

“Better.”

She felt Alexia’s heartbeat under the palm, her breathing rate increasing the longer they spent in each other’s vicinity.

“What are jou thinking?”

Delaney’s eyes flicked up, surprised. “That it’s hard,” she admitted. “Because when you’re like this - patient, steady - it makes me want to reach for you even more. But I can’t while I…”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “Then tell me what jou need.”

Delaney swallowed. “I need to know that when I ask for space, you won’t disappear.”

“I stay.”

“And that you won’t resent me for it.”

“I no go anywhere,” Alexia reassured. “I care about jou too much to.. to... how you say.. punish... for be honest about what jou needing.”

Delaney felt something settle in her chest – reassurance mixed with a feeling of guilt that this was all about her.

“Can I do anything for you, Ale?”

Alexia hadn’t seemed to expect that. Her hazel eyes swam golden with all of the thoughts passing through her head.

Eventually, she nodded. “Sí.”

She waited as the slightly taller woman struggled with her next words, as if wondering if they were okay.

“Fes-me un petó…” Kiss me… she said, eyes pleading. “Jus’ one time..”

How on earth could she resist that? Delaney was already nodding, pressing her body into Alexia’s before she’d finished processing the words.

Alexia’s mouth was soft and malleable at first, her lips easily parting and head tilting. Then, as their tongues brushed, her hand pressed against Delaney’s lower back, her breathing becoming ragged against Delaney’s own.

“Fuck..” Delaney gasped into her mouth, Alexia swallowing it.

She felt those long, delicate fingers touching her neck, jaw, cheek - soft as ever - as if memorising her.

Delaney’s back hit the wall, pressed there with Alexia’s own hips. She would have easily let her fuck her right there, no questions asked.

But Alexia stopped.

“Sorry,” she whispered in her thick accent, lowering her head to her shoulder.

Delaney placed several reassuring kisses to her temple and forehead. “Don’t apologise. You’re perfect, Ale. I… you’re perfect.”

Her lips found hers again - Alexia groaning into her mouth.

Delaney was the one to apologise this time.

“God, sorry,” she gasped, pressing her forehead against Alexia’s neck. “I’m sorry. You make everything so easy.”

Alexia pressed closer to her in response and Delaney couldn’t help but grasp onto the fabric of her shirt, lips trembling so close to the artery in her neck but hanging by a thread of restraint.

She began to withdraw but was pulled back in by Alexia.

“Is okay…” she insisted, her voice wobbling.

A sign Alexia wanted her just as much.

Her breath stuttered as she hesitated.

“Por favor… solo una…” Please… just the one…

Delaney could do many things – but refusing a pleading Alexia, was not one.

She leant forward and kissed her neck lingeringly, just the once.

Alexia tilted her head back, breathing deep and stuttered. Delaney took advantage of the exposure and pressed her lips to her collarbone, ever-so-gently following the artery up her neck, her bottom lip dragging behind slightly.

“You make it so easy to fall into the comfort of you.”

An involuntary whimper escaped Alexia and she swayed, suddenly unsteady on her feet.

Delaney’s arms slipped around her waist. “I’ve got you, Ale.”

“Lo prometes?” Promise?

“I promise. I just… I need time because this matters. We matter. Because once I fall all the way in with you, I don’t know how to do it halfway.”

“I yam sorry for scaring jou, Danny. It was too much, too soon with mi familia i the postin-”

Delaney’s hand covered her mouth.

“Alexia Putellas Segura, you have always been the definition of perfect. I’m sorry I need time to make sure I’m in the right headspace. It tears me apart to know that no matter what I say, the distance makes you blame yourself. But if you stay.. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can, okay?”

She still needed time.

But god - Alexia made it feel safe to take it.

As she spoke, Alexia watched her intently; cheeks flushed, pupils blown, lips now a swollen pink under her hand. She took it away just to look at them.

“Okay, Danny.”

Not subtle about the fact that she was reluctant – she stepped away, out of Delaney’s touch.

“Entrenamos mañana…?” Training tomorrow…?

“Ah – Ona is driving us to the airport for Mariona’s flight before training.”

She nodded; a tight smile fixed to her lips.

Delaney pulled the keys from her pocket and fumbled awkwardly as she tried to find the lock. She turned her wrist but with no real will to open the door the specific way she’d learnt to, especially with shaking hands.

Alexia’s long fingers closed around her own, gently guiding her through the trick to open it. The door popped open and she wished she could have rewound the moment by a few minutes, just to experience it all over again.

She began to shrug off the jacket and Alexia caught it, pulling it back over her shoulder and shaking her head. “No, nena. Jou keep.”

She wanted to argue. To say she knew it was Alexia’s favourite, one she didn’t let anyone wear.

But it was a statement. A possessiveness that some damaged part of her adored.

Not arguing, she stepped through the door.

“Buenas noches, Ale.”

“Buenas noches, nena.”

The next morning, she found Mariona sitting at the kitchen counter, phone in her hand and that permanent smile fixed to her lips. She peered exaggeratingly past Delaney.

“No capitana in your room?”

Delaney rolled her eyes. “You mean in YOUR room?”

She shrugged. “My place is jour place.”

She wandered over to the fridge for some water. “In answer to your question… no. She didn’t stay.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you ask her?”

“I… didn’t get a chance. She didn’t even let me ask.” She sighed as she thought about the taste of her lips the night before.

“She knows you needing more time.”

“She tends to know me better than myself sometimes…” she bit her lip, thinking. “She does that a lot, actually.”

“She yalways know what the players need before they ask.” She noted.

“But does she ever let anyone else-” She didn’t even answer her question when Mariona was already shaking her head, yawning.

“Never. Not like you.”

That hit hard.

“Want breakfast before your flight?”

“Sí, jus' a little one. The plane food is bad.”

She chuckled as she turned, pan already on the stove. As she cooked, she could feel Mariona’s eyes on her back. If it were anyone else, she would have felt slightly vulnerable in her singlet and shorts, most of her body exposed. But she knew her friend was just worried.

“Did you thinking more about what we say last night?”

Delaney nodded.

“Aaaaand?”

“Aaaaand understanding the situation doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”

The toast popped and she grabbed it, rubbing the garlic just like Alexia had taught her. One with garlic and tomato, the other with scrambled eggs and beetroot, avocado on the side.

She slid the plate across to Mariona who was already salivating at the sight.

“The plate look like Alexia.”

“Hey – I was always good at cooking.”

“Good – not Catalan good. Until now.” She winked.

“And your English has improved past stubborn Spanish.”

Delaney stabbed at a piece of scrambled egg. Mariona grinned as she watched the protein being stolen from her plate.

“I miss you.”

“I missed you more.”

Mariona’s smile softened at that, something gentler replacing the teasing. She took a bite of toast, chewing thoughtfully.

“She is good for you,” she said eventually, a little hesitant at overstepping.

Delaney sighed. “If only I weren’t dramatically complicated.”

She tilted her head. “That make it interesting, no? Alexia does no do easy, and you don’t either. But you are steady...er with her. Even when you are running, you are… trying.”

Delaney leant her hip against the counter, arms folding loosely. “She makes me want everything.”

Mariona hummed, swallowing. “You steel thinking you no deserve it?”

Delaney felt something tighten inside her. She turned and rinsed the pan and set it aside, drying her hands on a tea towel. She caught her reflection in the microwave door - tired eyes, hair a mess, a jacket?

She turned to see Alexia’s favourite leather jacket hanging on the chair next to Mariona’s. If she weren’t there, she would have unashamedly taken it in her hands and smelled her on it.

Mariona followed her gaze.

“Is that...?”

“She insisted.”

Mariona smiled. “Of course she deed. You know, she no even let Alba touch it.”

“Can we talk about you now?”

“Not many update. Lia and I are very happy.” She couldn’t help the shy, contagious smile. “Is hard now she is in Italia, but we makes it work.”

“You think you’ll stay at Arsenal?”

“I like it there. I like the team, and when we play good, is great.” She looked up. “The only time we play uh… constante… was with you.”

Delaney let the compliment pass by without commenting. “And the weather?”

She groaned and let off a string of curses so fast Delaney raised an eyebrow.

“You and your fucking tan…”

She grinned, posing. “You like?”

“Now you looking like Australiana again.”

“Paint me like one of your Australian girls.”

“Alexia like to paint…”

Delaney scoffed and threw her tea towel. Mariona was quick enough to catch it before it hit her face.

Her alarm went off – a reminder of her upcoming flight – and she swiped it away.

“Can I say one thing?”

“Of course you can.”

“Don’t disappear in your head… you no have to do it alone.” Her voice softened. “You have her now.”

Delaney didn’t respond. She knew she was close to crying and didn’t need that to start off her day.

Mariona stepped around the kitchen counter and hugged her, tight and familiar. “You are allow to want her.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You deserving everything good that come with that.”

A knock came at the door, and both women jumped at the sound. Delaney looked at the time and back to the door, trying to understand who was knocking so early. Her neighbour?

“Maybe is Alexia?” Mariona suggested.

Delaney shook her head. She wouldn’t just turn up after offering her space.

She wandered over and opened the door to Ona’s smiling face, all fresh in her kit.

“Hola, hola – I bring coffee.”

“Ah, Ona!” Mariona grinned.

“I figure I come over early because you were so busy with everyone last night.” Ona stepped inside without waiting to be invited, already scanning Delaney’s face with that easy, perceptive smile. “And,” she added lightly, “because I know you.”

Delaney huffed a quiet laugh, closing the door behind her.

“We were just talking about that,” Mariona offered sneakily.

Delaney groaned. She hated her drama to be the centre of attention. She was so used to dealing with her problems alone, but she was learning, very quickly, what familia actually meant among the Spanish girls.

Among Alexia’s girls.

There was no distance between them. No polite emotional boundaries. No pretending not to notice. They just showed up and inserted themselves.

Stayed.

And the strangest part? It wasn’t suffocating. It was disarming. Dangerously easy to get used to.

She wondered if she'd have the same problems today if she'd grown up amongst them.

Ona put the coffee on the kitchen counter and was already watching her with that knowing look, amusement flickering behind it.

“Is my emotional instability really Spain’s top priority right now?”

“We are… how you say… investing?”

“Ah – your capitana.”

Mariona tutted. “I no play for Barca. I care about you both.”

Ona rolled her eyes. “This is us – this is our… cultures?” She raised her coffee cup. “Jou needing to get used to us, Dellie.”

“Mmnhmn.”

Ona held out the second cup. “Drink.”

Delaney accepted it gratefully, fingers curling around the warmth. The smell alone felt medicinal. She played with the rim of it, thinking.

Mariona leant back against the counter, watching the two of them with open amusement. “Ale did no stay last night.”

Ona groaned. “So she will be tired and grumpy in training again today.”

“How about we talk about you and Lucy? How’s that going?”

Ona raised an eyebrow and ignored her, turning to Mariona. “Lleva toda la mañana cambiando de tema?” Has she been changing the subject all morning?

“Y la mayor parte de anoche.” And most of last night.

“Sabes que puedo entenderte, ¿verdad?” You know I can understand you, right? Delaney interjected.

Ona squeezed her cheeks together tenderly and all Delaney could think about was how much smaller her hand felt to Alexia’s.

“Solo porque estamos hablando despacio para ti.” Only because we’re speaking slow for you.

Delaney grunted.

“She is yours,” Mariona admitted suddenly. “Anyone can see this.”

Delaney's skin tingled at the admission.

Ona studied her. “Bad night? After the dance, I yam surprise…”

She could practically still feel Alexia trembling under her lips as they stroked up her neck.

“Not bad... just complicated." Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I’m complicated.”

Alexia was not. Alexia was beautiful throughout.

Ona nodded slowly, understanding far more than the words said. “Mm.”

They stood there for a moment, quiet settling between them in that comfortable, morning-soft way.

Familia.

Mariona broke it first.

“So,” she said gently, “what happen?”

Delaney stared into her cup.

How do you explain something that technically went well but still left your chest aching?

And why was it so fucking hard to say everything aloud?

She forced words from her mouth.

“She was perfect.”

Ona blinked. “…That sound like opposite of a problems.”

“It does, doesn’t it.”

Delaney ran a hand through her hair, searching for something coherent.

Mariona reached out and stroked her arm like she knew it’s exactly what she needed.

She was surprised by the feeling of tears welling.

“I’m not used to this…” she admitted. “To opening up. To relying on others.”

They didn’t speak, just moved closer in their typical Spaniard physical affection. Ona rested her cheek on Delaney’s shoulder as they waited for her to be ready.

“She was so careful. So… Alexia about everything.” Her voice softened unconsciously. “And I just kept feeling like…” Delaney swallowed. “Like I’m standing on the edge of something massive.” Her voice wobbled. “And that terrifies me.”

Delaney sighed immediately. “Sorry.”

Mariona waved her off. “No do that. We no do that.”

Ona moved them towards the couch.

Delaney dropped into the cushions, Ona and Mariona settling beside her.

“I just…” Delaney stared ahead, unfocused. “I’ve never needed anyone.”

She could feel them nodding along.

“And I know Alexia is someone who stays. I know she’d never intentionally hurt me. I know she feels just as vulnerable. I know she’s worth it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than when I’m with her.”

Delaney glanced sideways. Mariona met her gaze, unwavering.

“Alexia… is no like us.” She gestured between Ona and herself. “She is like you.”

Mariona pressed a hand to Delaney’s chest.

“Ever since her dad…” she said, matter of factly, not expecting a response from them.

The pair nodded regardless.

Delaney let her head fall to the back of the couch. She stared at the ceiling, wondering… knowing that Alexia would be doing the same right now. Most probably in her bed, face set, overthinking as per usual.

Her heart squeezed at the thought of it.

“I think I need to say it aloud.”

Silence.

Heavier.

Delaney’s throat worked.

She felt like opening up to her friends was the first step.

Because at the end of the day – she wanted Alexia more than fears – and she could begin to feel that.

“I’m afraid,” she said quietly, “that if I let myself fully fall into this…”

She trailed off.

Delaney’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“…there’s no recovering for me if it falls apart.”

The room sat in that admission for a moment.

The pair didn’t immediately respond.

Didn’t joke.

Didn’t dismiss.

She felt Ona kiss her shoulder.

Then -

“Del.”

Delaney looked at her.

“You already fall.”

Ona’s expression was gentle, but certain. Something in her eyes said that she’d been through something similar.

“You are no protecting yourself…”

Delaney’s breath hitched slightly.

“Esto es que estás fingiendo que todavía tienes elección.” This is you pretending you still have a choice.

Delaney wondered on their conversation all day long.

As they dropped Mariona at the airport and kissed her goodbye.

As they drove to training, laughing about things that had happened the night before.

During training where Alexia was, in fact, visibly tired and grumpier than usual. Which meant she was quiet. Spoke little. Frowned a lot. Delaney just wanted to wrap her arms around her.

She wondered on the conversation through her phone call later in the night with her sister.

And then, even later, when she went to bed, and did what she had only started as of late.

Touching herself as a distraction from her emotions… yet always to the thought of Alexia.

Her first orgasm was practically just a sigh – the exact same as the previous few nights. Realising that wasn’t going to cut it, she shifted to Alexia’s side of the bed and withdrew the strap. Being too impatient for lube, she stroked her tongue up the side of the shaft to the very tip, coating it as she went, spitting on the tip and rubbing the moisture all over.

Shuffling back, she positioned it around where Alexia’s hips would be and pulled aside her soaked underwear. She pressed the tip against her clit and followed the trail down between her folds, slowly deeper until the wide tip was pressed against her entrance. She loved a girthy cock, just as much as Alexia like to stretch her.

Easing down slightly to take just the tip, she rotated her hips to enjoy the feeling. She did this a few times, eventually sinking down and taking just half the length of it with a whimper.

Her insides were too resistant to take more – but it was enough for what she needed to accomplish tonight.

One hand gripping the bed sheets, the other holding the base of the strap, she began to pump up and down, the dildo plunging into her and worsening the wetness dripping down her thighs onto the bedsheets.

It wasn’t sexy nor graceful. It was pure, instinctual need.

As her movements became staggered and erratic, she angled it forward, helplessly rocking forward and back with the cock sliding over her G spot. Her hand was coated, her spine ramrod straight as the sweat formed on her forehead. She felt her body begin to shiver, her quads and core begin to strain and doubled her effort.

“You’re so fucking desperate.” She swore at herself. “You’d rather fuck yourself stupid than admit you love her.”

She groaned at the honesty.

“You love her. You want this.” Her hips stuttered and she cried out as she came to the very edge.

“I love you.” She said to herself. “You’re damaged and broken, but I love you. But I…oh fuck…yes… I… need you… to be brave, Delaney.”

She didn’t realise she was crying until she choked up a sob.

“You’re safe with her….” She cried, the honesty pouring out better than any therapy.

“She loves you…”

She strained her muscles to the very end of their abilities. “Be brave for us.”

She put her head into the softness of Alexia’s pillow and breathed in her scent, crying out her name as she came. This time, much, much harder than the last. Her body shuddered violently to its end, stuttering the very last pieces of release from her body.

The strap hit the floor with a wet thud, her body finally able to sink into the softness of the bed. The groan of relief she gave was from the deepest part of her being.

She gave herself a minute or so to come down, and then slowly dragged herself from the bed, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

She took the dildo into the bathroom and cleaned it properly, noting the two toothbrushes on the sink. She smiled softly at the sight.

She returned the toy to Alexia’s bottom drawer and lay back in her side of the bed with a sense of relief overcoming her. Catharsis. She smiled at the ceiling.

“I love her...” she repeated aloud.

She’s my person.

She smiled at the ceiling until she thought of Alexia during training. At the thought of her being alone and worrying about Delaney asking for space.

She reached over to grab her phone and find Alexia’s contact.

Just before she pressed call, her phone buzzed.

She answered immediately.

“Ale?”

“I yam sorry, carinyo. I…” she hesitated, voice wobbling. “I-”

“I love you, Alexia.”

She heard a sharp inhale through the phone, followed by a staggered exhale.

“Jo també t’estimo, Danny.” I love you too, Danny.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I.. call because I miss jou.”

“I can promise you right now, that I miss you more."

"I can no sleep with jou no here."

"I know... I don't want you to miss another night of sleep because of me."

"I-"

"Can I come over?”

Delaney heard her sit up fast. “Sí?! Ahora?” Now?

“If it’s okay…” she trailed off with a happy hum as she heard Alexia already moving, her feet sliding into shoes, her keys jingling enthusiastically.

“I come. Dónde estás?” Where are you?

“Bed.”

“Quédate. Llego pronto.” Stay. I’m on my way.

The phone call ended with a click and Delaney let the phone fall beside her, staring at the ceiling, heart steady for the first time all day.

She rolled onto her side and reached for her phone before she could stop herself, thumb hovering over Delaney’s name. She didn’t call. Didn’t text. She’d said she would give her space, and Alexia trusted her, respecting what they’d been building too much to betray that. Still, the silence between them felt loud.

Training.

She pushed herself upright, rubbing at her eyes, blinking through the dryness until the sting eased. The routine steadied her. Shower. Kit laid out the night before. Hair tied back. The familiar rhythm of getting ready helped her tuck the mess in her chest somewhere she didn’t have to look at it directly. She thought about the way she’d exactly matched the Aquarius traits Delaney had sent her and grumbled to herself.

Detached. Overthinks. Needs space but hates it.

“Perfecto,” she muttered.

She wondered on Delaney and her space, and if she’d want her usual lift to training. It would be an excuse to talk…

She grabbed her phone from the kitchen table and found her name, hesitating about putting extra pressure on her.

She opened Instagram first without thinking.

Ona had a new story.

Delaney was there, sitting outside some café Alexia didn’t recognise, sunglasses on, hair still damp from a shower, Barça kit on. She held a drink in her hand, smiling towards the camera. Kika was next to her, talking with her hands mid-story.

Ona’s caption was in English: Coffee dates ❤️

Alexia stared at it a second longer than she meant to.

So, she was already out. With people. Her cheek twitched.

Her thumb hovered over Delaney’s name again. She locked the phone instead.

She finished getting ready in silence, movements efficient now, almost clipped. Shoes on. Keys. Bag over her shoulder. She didn’t check her phone again.

The drive to training felt longer than usual. The radio played softly, something upbeat that didn’t match her mood, and she turned it down until it was barely there. At a red light, she caught herself reaching toward the passenger seat, like she expected to feel Delaney there, knees pulled up slightly, warm and ever present.

Her hand touched the fabric of the seat and she withdrew it quickly, as if that would stop the hurt.

Instead, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel and kept driving.

By the time she pulled into the training centre car park, her captain face had already settled into place. Shoulders back. Chin lifted. Composed.

Inside, no one would know they were not okay. No one would know she’d looked at that story three times before locking her phone.

The changing room was empty when Alexia walked in. Same as usual.

She set her bag down on the bench, movements methodical, controlled. Boots out. Tape. Hair retied looser than she would for a game.

Her phone stayed face down in her bag.

She didn’t check it.

By the time the rest of the girls started filtering in, the noise level rose in waves - laughter, someone complaining about sore legs, someone replaying a moment from the match. Alexia joined in where needed, small smiles, a comment here and there, captain mode sliding on easily.

When Delaney walked in with Ona, Alexia saw her immediately.

Of course she did.

But she didn’t look twice.

She didn’t let her eyes follow. Didn’t let her body turn toward the sound of her voice. She tied her laces again even though they didn’t need it, giving herself something to focus on that wasn’t the way Delaney’s laugh carried across the room, the way she could feel her looking at Alexia, but she kept her eyes away.

Space.

She could give space.

Out on the pitch, it was easier. There were cones to set up, drills to run through, positions to call. Alexia slipped into the rhythm of it, voice steady as she called instructions, adjusting the shape of the press, tapping a shoulder here, pointing there.

When the first passing drill started, Delaney rotated into her group.

Alexia registered it without looking at her directly. The way you register a defender’s run in your peripheral vision. Awareness without engagement.

The ball came to her, she played it one-touch, sharp and clean, to the next player. When it went to Delaney, she didn’t linger, didn’t add anything extra to the pass back. Just football. Just normal.

Her chest felt tight anyway.

Every instinct she had told her to check in. To ask if she’d slept. To brush a hand over her hip in passing. To find her eye and make sure they were still okay.

She didn’t.

Delaney had asked for time to think. Alexia would not make that harder.

So she kept her distance in small, precise ways no one else would notice. No teasing. No shoulder bumps. No lingering touches during breaks. When they lined up for the next drill, she stood one spot further down than she normally would.

Professional.

Not avoiding.

If Delaney looked at her, she’d meet her eyes. She wasn’t hiding. She just wasn’t reaching.

It felt like holding her breath. She found it harder to stop herself pouting than to keep up with her team. Just from the effort, she felt the sweat settle at the base of her neck, her breathing steady but heavier than it should have been for the tempo they were at.

When the whistle finally blew, signalling the end of the session, the girls relaxed all at once, energy shifting from sharp to loose. Conversations picked up, someone already complaining about needing a shower. Alexia walked toward the sideline with the Irene, towel slung over her shoulder, eyes forward.

That’s when she saw Kika jog up beside Delaney.

Kika bumped her with her hip, playful, then reached out to poke at her side, saying something that made Delaney jump and laugh, shoving her back lightly. It was easy, familiar. The kind of physical teasing the girls did with each other without thinking.

Alexia looked away before the twist in her chest could show on her face.

It wasn’t jealousy, she told herself. But she was lying. She was used to being the one who drifted into Delaney’s space without asking, who grounded her with a hand at her waist or a quiet tease in her ear. Watching someone else fill that casual space, made the distance feel more real.

They reached the entrance to the building, the group bunching up as they headed inside.

“Sigue en pie lo de esta noche, no?” Tonight is still on, yeah? Pina said, falling into step near Alexia. “Mariona dijo que viene a las siete y Cata ha organizado algo.”” Mariona said she’s coming in at seven and Cata sorted something.

“Sí,” Mapi chimed in ahead of them. “Sala privada en ese sitio cerca del puerto. La del fondo. Sin fotos, sin desconocidos.” Private room at that place near the harbour. The back one. No photos, no randoms.

“Cata ya está estresada con que la gente publique la ubicación. “ Cata’s already stressed about people posting locations, Ona laughed. “Ahora es como seguridad. “ She’s like security now.

Alexia chuckled with them. She’d forgotten about that. A little post-match catch-up, the team all together, Mariona finally back in the mix. Normally she’d be looking forward to it, to the noise and the safety of being with her people.

Her gaze drifted ahead, landing on Delaney again, walking just in front of her, head tilted toward Kika as she listened.

Would she come?

Alexia didn’t ask.

She pushed open the changing room door instead, letting the noise swallow the question before it could reach her lips.

Alexia stood in front of her wardrobe, doors open wide, clothes arranged in the neat, colour-coded way she pretended wasn’t intentional. Normally this part was easy. Clothes were armour for her. A way of expressing herself. She knew what worked on her body, what photographed well, what felt like her.

Tonight, nothing felt right.

Too dressed up looked like she was trying. Too casual looked like she didn’t care. She held a blazer against herself, then shook her head. She swapped it for high-waisted trousers and a fitted top, studied the silhouette, then changed again, pulling on her favourite faded, oversized jeans that sat on her hips just right. She paired it with a black button-up, hanging open to expose her sternum, and her favourite leather jacket. Effortless. Thought-through. And like she hadn’t stood here for ten minutes overthinking it.

She caught her reflection, dabbing at her rose coloured lipstick, fixing her two wavy strands of hair framing her face.

“Perfecto,” she said under her breath, still not convinced.

Her phone buzzed on the bed.

The group chat was already alive.

Ona: Quieres que te recoja, Dellie? Want me to pick you up, Dellie?

Before Alexia could even think-

Cata: Yo la recojo y vamos a buscar a Mariona al aeropuerto. Aterriza a las siete. I'm grabbing her and we're getting Mariona from the airport. She lands at 7pm.

A second later:

Patri: ¿y Mariona dónde se queda? And where is Mariona staying?

Alexia’s chest tightened before the answer even came.

Delaney: En casa conmigo. Técnicamente sigue siendo su piso 😂 At home with me - it’s still her apartment technically 😂

Of course. It was logical.

Still, Alexia read it twice.

She locked the phone and set it down carefully, like it might say more if she looked again. She checked her reflection one last time, straightened her posture, lifted her chin.

She grabbed her keys and headed out, telling herself the flutter in her chest was just anticipation for seeing everyone together again.

Her phone lit up on the passenger seat. The team group chat, already chaotic.

Pina: Ya estamos dentrooo. We’re already insiiiiiiide. Cata: Acordaos: nada de storie. Remember: no stories. Ona: Security Cata activated. Security Cata activated.

Alexia huffed a quiet chuckle. She grabbed her bag and got out.

Inside, the music was muted compared to the main floor, bass thudding softly through the walls but not loud enough to force conversation into shouts. Cata had done well; the back room was tucked away, doors half-closed, just their people inside. Laughter hit her first, then the familiar mix of perfume and whatever drink Pina had ordered for everyone.

“¡La capitana!” someone called as soon as she stepped in.

Alexia smirked, slipping into hugs, cheek kisses, hands clapping her back. The typical Spanish affection.

She took a seat on the edge of one of the couches, Patri already talking animatedly beside her, re-enacting something from training with exaggerated hand movements. Alexia called her out as she usually would, starting a whole round of teasing.

And then she felt a tingle at the back of her neck.

Her eyes lifted and found Delaney standing near the doorway, just inside the room, one hand curled around a drink, eyes scanning for someone she knew before stepping further in. She looked almost the same as always - hair loose, casual clothes, that easy openness in her posture - but there was a hesitation there, until her eyes found her.

Alexia’s chest tightened.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t wave.

She just held Delaney’s gaze when it found hers, steady and open, offering the same thing she had all day.

I’m here. I’m not pushing. But I’m still yours.

A few hours later, the room had splintered into smaller pockets of conversations. The music was background now, Vicky controlling the songs, and half the team had migrated to the floor with their backs against the couches. Alexia stayed where she was beside Patri, ankle resting on her knee, drink half-full in her hand.

She tried to keep her focus on the conversation in the group of her, Patri, Irene, Caroline and Marta, but her attention kept drifting, circling back to the same thought she couldn’t shake.

Was it obvious?

They hadn’t really spoken. Not properly. Everyone knew them as being together a lot of the time. Touchy, shared teases and grins. But so far they’d had none of that. No automatic gravitating toward each other. To anyone who knew them - really knew them - that alone might be louder than anything.

She scanned the room without meaning to.

Delaney sat a little apart with Mariona, knees angled toward her, both of them leaning in close. Mariona’s expression was soft, focused, the way it got when she was actually listening and not just waiting to talk. Delaney’s hands moved as she spoke, slower than usual, thoughtful. Serious. Like she was struggling to express herself.

Mariona nodded empathetically, said something, and Delaney’s shoulders dropped slightly, like something had eased. Then Mariona bumped her knee and said something lighter, and Delaney laughed, shoving her gently in return. The tension broke. Easy again.

Kika jogged over and dropped down beside them, immediately throwing an arm over Delaney’s shoulders and saying something that made both her and Mariona groan in mock protest.

Delaney’s eyes flickered up in the middle of it and found her.

Alexia looked away too fast, like she hadn’t been watching at all, turning back toward Patri just as she finished another story. Her heart kicked hard once in her chest, and she focused on Patri’s midfield argument harder than usual.

A few minutes later, she felt two hands on her shoulders, palms gliding down and around her torso.

Delaney’s lips pressed to her cheek. Alexia’s eyelashes fluttered. Her breath caught before she could stop it.

“Hi, Ale.”

“Hola, nena.”

“Is your butt sore?”

Whatever she expected, it wasn’t that. She tried to turn but Delaney’s cheek was pressed against her own. “Hm?”

“You haven’t moved all night.”

Alexia scoffed and gestured at her view across the room to where she’d just been sitting. She felt Delaney give a soft hum.

“Oh, Ale.”

Alexia leant back and kissed her temple. “Jou have fun?”

“You mean besides Kika threatening to start lap dancing?”

“With jou?!”

“With everyone.”

“Mmn.” They looked over to see that she’d - in fact – already started on Pina.

Both tilted their heads the same direction, the same time.

Cata grabbed Ona and shoved her into a chair, apparently showing Kika how it was done. Ona and Pina sat there as the women ground on their laps, cheeks bright red as they just sat there and took it, the group jeering and shouting around them.

“So bad.” Alexia and Delaney murmured at the same time.

Kika must of heard. She stopped mid-grind and spun.

“Bad?! Who say we are bad?!”

Delaney took one for the team. “For a Portuguese woman, you sure don’t roll your hips like one.”

Kika’s mouth dropped in mock outrage. She always loved a bit of cheekiness.

She dismounted and planted herself on a chair, patting her knee.

“Then come and show me how it’s done then, Australiana.”

A pang of jealousy hit Alexia, hard. As Delaney went to stand, she grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

“Paella…” she whispered into her ear.

Delaney's body stilled against her for a second. Then it softened. She studied her expression, eyes asking a question. Alexia looked at Kika, and back to her.

"Okay, Ale." She responded softly, lips against her cheek.

She stepped away, Alexia's skin going cold where her body had just been.

“Sube la música, Vicky!” Turn up the music, Vicky! Delaney called out loudly.

Alexia's stomach sunk.

The slowed remix of Crazy in Love by Beyonce got louder, and so did the girls.

“Danny-” she started.

Delaney walked slowly around the couch, staring at Kika. The Portuguese woman stared back like she couldn’t believe this was happening.

Then Delaney turned to Alexia.

Not playful now. Not performing for the room.

Just looking at her.

The bass slid under skin, the girls shouting, laughing, chanting Delaney’s name like this was the best entertainment they’d had all year - but in that moment, Alexia didn’t hear any of it. All she could see was her.

Alexia could feel herself dropping into la reina – the one Delaney dragged out of her in bed. It wasn’t hard. One look is all it usually took.

Delaney didn’t break eye contact.

Instead, she stepped closer, and closer… until she reached her. She slid a knee inside of Alexia’s and spread her legs on the couch. Alexia let her play her little game, wondering if her hammering pulse was visible in her neck to the others.

She took Alexia’s drink from her hand, fingers brushing hers as she took the glass.

Alexia could feel her expression darken.

Delaney stepped back and tipped it back in one go, then set the empty glass down on the table with a soft clink.

Patri let out a dramatic “¡OOOHH!” and slid a few inches down the couch to give them space, elbow digging into Alexia’s side in teasing encouragement before she turned her attention back to the spectacle.

“Vale, Australiana,” Kika called, half-laughing, half-daring.

But Delaney didn’t even glance at her this time.

She moved with the music instead, slow and deliberate, one step closer until she stood right in front of Alexia again. She touched two fingertips to Alexia’s hand where it rested on the couch, and ever so slowly they trailed lightly up her arm as Delaney stepped around her.

The room roared.

She locked her jaw as Delaney leant over her from behind, her hair touching Alexia’s cheek, her lips parting against her ear.

Her heart thudded harder.

Delaney’s hands slid down again, this time over her shoulders, chest, tits, down to her thighs and back up, teeth nipping at her lobe.

Then she disappeared again.

“Quiebrala!” Break her! Mapi shouted.

Delaney reappeared on the other side, stepping back into her line of sight, but closer this time. She rested one knee gently on the edge of the couch between Alexia’s legs, her hands bracing on her knees. The movement wasn’t exaggerated or crude - just confident, playful, clearly meant for her.

Her hands slid up the insides of Alexia’s thighs sending a wave of excitement through her body by the time Delaney mounted her.

She cocked her head and began to roll her hips against her, ten times better than Kika had ever managed. Her hands lifted almost on instinct, gripping Delaney’s hips, grounding herself there as the noise of their teammates washed over them.

Delaney’s hips swayed again, slower now, a teasing echo of the beat, her expression softening as she pressed forward slightly - her tits against her own - so only Alexia could hear her.

“Still pouting?” she murmured.

Alexia didn’t respond.

She couldn't.

Delaney must have noticed, and chuckled. She leant back, the movement of her hips reminiscent of the times she’d ridden her strap.

Alexia felt her pelvis rocking into her lower abdomen and could feel herself begin to drip.

Delaney took one of Alexia’s hands and stroked it up her torso, through the valley of her tits. As she sat back up, her eyes were dark and playful, lip between her teeth, the same look she gave Alexia when she wanted the response to be aggressive and dominant.

The type Alexia didn’t ever want anyone else seeing.

Delaney pressed her lips to her forehead, body still rocking as they lightly stroked down over Alexia’s eyebrow, cheek, lips... Alexia’s fingers tightened on her hips and a soft, exhaled moan escaped the Australians lips.

She responded by biting Alexia's bottom lip and tugging it.

A sound escaped Alexia’s throat just loud enough for Delaney to hear her break.

And as soon as she did, Alexia’s hand closed around her throat, harder than she’d intended. Regardless, Delaney’s eyes rolled back just a touch, a grin set on her face.

“Careful, nena.” She said, hard.

Delaney's body stilled and she chuckled in a willing surrender. “Sí, Ale.”

Alexia pulled her close, arms wrapping around her body as if to protect her from the room. She waved a hand over her shoulder.

“Se acabó el show!” Show’s over!

“Joder…” Cata murmured.

“Madre mía..” Mapi muttered.

“Well, I’m definitely wet.” Kika added.

Her fingers twitched at her side, wanting to reach for her - to glide her fingers under the jersey and onto the curve of Alexia’s hip - the way she did when she wanted to ground her. But the cameras were already shifting. Eyes following. Staff hovering.

Not yet.

Alexia didn’t look at her, but Delaney saw the breath she took - slow, measured, the kind you take before stepping into something that might hit harder than you let it show. She leaned slightly closer instead, not touching, just enough that her arm almost brushed Alexia’s.

“Okay, Ale?” she murmured.

Alexia didn’t look at her, eyes forward.

“Sí.” A pause. Then softer. “Jou?”

Delaney exhaled through her nose. “Yeah. Just… feels like something just changed.”

Alexia’s mouth twitched, but she didn't answer.

They reached the tunnel split. One hallway toward the locker rooms. One toward the media and publicity zone. A Barça staffer approached, already walking backwards, headset on.

“Alexia, media first. Flash interview. Two minutes.”

Alexia glanced at her, just for a second, and in that second, the noise dulled.

“I drive us home. Me esperas?” Wait for me? She asked quietly.

Not stay here. Not go ahead. Wait.

Delaney’s chest tightened.

“Sempre.” Always.

Alexia’s lips twitched a smile. She nodded once and turned toward the lights. Delaney watched her walk away into the cameras like she had many times before, but this time, she wasn’t watching as just a teammate. She was watching as the person Alexia had chosen to tell the world about. And that was terrifying. And grounding. And bigger than football.

Behind her, Ona bumped her shoulder. “Welcome to Barça, eh?”

Delaney huffed a laugh. “Is it always this chaotic?”

Ona grinned. “This? This is calm.” She tilted her head toward the media area. “¿Está bien?” She okay?

Delaney followed her gaze.

Alexia had tens of cameras just inches from her face. Composed. Controlled. Perfect. But Delaney recognised the tightening of her jaw. The way her hands kept busy while she was secretly nervous, playing with her lip, hair, face, each other. She felt a sudden, dull ache in her chest for some reason – a feeling of dread that choosing to go public would be the opposite of what Alexia needed.

Delaney nodded.

Ona studied her, then smiled slowly. “Good,” she said. “Because the internet already think you two are married.”

Delaney blinked. “What?”

Ona held up her phone to show photo of Alexia and Delaney, foreheads pressed together, 90+3 minutes on the scoreboard behind them. The celebration after she’d scored. Her thumb swiped across to another one after the match with Alexia’s arm draped over her shoulder, holding her as if she were worried she would wander off. She went to swipe again and Delaney rolled her eyes.

“All of the Barça girls are like that.”

“Mmnhmn.”

“You slapped me on the ass after I scored. Are we dating?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it. But you can be the one to tell Lucy.”

Delaney looked back over at Alexia. “These types of things just put more pressure on her, and I don’t like it.”

Ona leant in, arm wrapping around to comfort her. “Alexia doesn’t put herself in positions like that unless she wants to be there.”

Alexia laughed at something a reporter said. The kind of laugh that belonged to the mask and the press conferences that came with it. Not the one she gave her in the kitchen. Not the one she gave her in bed.

Delaney lingered where she was for a moment longer.

“MVP!”

Ona and Delaney turned as Pina jogged toward them, still breathless, hair wild from the celebration. She joined the tender moment with an excited hug. Cata wasn’t far behind.

“MVP! MVP!”

Irene rolled her eyes on the way past. “¡Al vestuario, ya! Antes de que Vicky conecte el móvil al altavoz.” To the locker room, now! Before Vicky connects her phone to the speaker.

Delaney huffed a laugh and let herself be pulled along.

The locker room was chaos. Music already blasting. Shirts flying. Someone had sprayed water across half the room. Patri was standing on a table in the centre yelling the chorus of something wildly off-key. Kika was filming everything. Delaney barely made it two steps inside before someone shoved a bottle of water into her chest.

“Speech!” they shouted.

Ona took the bottle. “Debut goal. Clásico winner. How you feel?” She held the bottle in front of her like a microphone.

“Like a winnerrrrrrr.”

“YEAHHHHHHH!” The girls roared. Water flew everywhere. She was drenched instantly.

Mapi shoved her toward Patri, who grabbed her arm and hauled her up onto the table beside her. Delaney ran a hand through her damp hair, adrenaline still buzzing under her skin.

“¡Vale, vale!” Delaney shouted over the noise, raising both hands. “Quiero decir-” I want to say-

A splash of water hit her square in the face. She gasped, sputtering, as the room dissolved into laughter.

“-gracias al equipo de hidratación,” Thanks to the hydration team, she continued, wiping her eyes. “Trabajan… mucho.” They work a lot.

The girls howled.

“¡MUCHO!” A LOT! Patri screamed.

Someone banged a locker like a drum. Patri threw an arm around her shoulders and started yelling the chorus again directly into her ear.

Delaney laughed, breathless, adrenaline still fizzing under her skin.

“En serio,” Seriously, she tried again, pushing wet hair out of her face, grinning. “Mi primer partido aquí… y no es nada estresante.” My first game here… and not stressful at all.

“¡MENTIROSA!” LIAR. Mapi yelled.

“Pero…” Delaney pointed vaguely toward the pitch. “Con vosotras es fácil.” But… with you all, it’s easy.

The noise softened just a touch.

“Gracias por hacerme sentir bienvenida. Os quiero. ¡Visca el Barça i visca Catalunya!” Thank you for making me feel welcome. I love you all. Long live Barça and long live Catalonia!

The room answered with whistles and cheers instead of teasing this time. “Campeones, campeones, oe oe oe!”

“¡Llegó la capitana!” The captain’s here!

“¡CAPITANA!”

Delaney turned instinctively and saw Alexia standing in the doorway, that proud smirk on her face telling her she’d heard almost everything.

“¡LA AUSTRALIANA HABLA ESPAÑOL! POR FIN!” Cata yelled. The Australian speaks Spanish. Finally!

“POQUITO,” Just a tiny bit, she replied proudly over the noise.

She jumped down from the table and pulled off her soaked jersey.

Mapi was on her before she managed to remove any more clothing. “¡Madridista el que no bote!” If you don’t jump, you’re a Madrid fan!

Delaney bounced with them, laughing, shoulders colliding with Mapi’s, Ona nearly knocking into her from behind. The stadium was probably shaking from the violence of it all.

Across from her, Alexia moved through the players jumping all over her while parting without even realising they were doing it. Still smiling, still captain - but the press mask was gone. This smile reached her eyes.

Delaney stopped jumping first.

Alexia reached her just as the chant started to die down, hands landing lightly on Delaney’s waist to steady her when someone crashed into her back.

“Cuidado.” Careful, she murmured, close enough that Delaney felt it more than heard it.

Delaney laughed softly, breathless. “Your team is violent.”

“Our team,” Alexia corrected.

Around them, the girls had already moved on - new song, new chaos, someone attempting to slide across the wet floor like a football pitch. For a second, it felt like they were standing in the eye of the storm.

Delaney’s hands twitched, unsure with so many phones still up.

Alexia didn’t hesitate.

Her fingers slid briefly into Delaney’s damp hair at the nape of her neck - not possessive, not performative. Grounding.

Proud.

“How much did you hear?”

“Todo.”

Delaney groaned. “My Spanish is terrible.”

Alexia’s mouth curved. “No.” A small shake of her head. “Fue perfecta.” It was perfect.

Behind them, Pina screamed, “¡BESOOO!” and someone threw a towel at her. KISSS!

Alexia rolled her eyes but didn’t move away.

Instead, her thumb brushed once, subtly, across Delaney’s cheek - hidden in the movement of the room, invisible unless you were looking for it.

“Jou are still okay for the post?”

“Did you see the photos of us online already?”

“I see.” She gestured outside to the media pen. “They ask me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?”

“I say I yam no here for personal question.” She pressed closer, her voice lowering. “I want to make sure jou are still okay with this, carinyo.”

“I think… we should take tonight to think about it.”

Alexia went still, worry flitting across her eyes so quick she might have imagined it. “¿Solas?” Alone?

“¿Está bien?” Is that okay? Her fingers played with the hem of Alexia’s jersey.

Alexia studied her for a moment. Then nodded.

“Sí, nena. Está bien.” Her hand slid down her spine to Delaney’s lower back, gently guiding her forward as she kissed her forehead. “I take jou home an jou message me after jou think.”

She nodded against her lips but noticed that uncomfortable pull again, low in her chest.

Alexia was quieter than usual during the car ride. She was distant, almost. But not closed. Her hands stayed steady on the wheel for most of the drive, one eventually drifting down to Delaney’s side of the console like she’d reminded herself to relax. Her hand was so close that Delaney could have reached for it. She usually did.

This time she didn’t.

They didn’t talk about the post. They didn’t need to. The silence did all of the talking for them.

When they pulled up outside Mariona’s building, Alexia kept her eyes on the road ahead for a beat, then turned slightly toward her.

“Jou message me, sí?” she said, voice gentler than usual. Quieter. Like she was choosing her words carefully.

“I will.”

Alexia leaned across the console, pressing a slow kiss to Delaney’s temple. It lingered like she was leaving something there with her before pulling back.

“Goodnight, carinyo.”

Delaney stepped out, the door closing with a muted thud. She didn’t look back until she reached the building entrance.

Alexia was still there.

Hands on the wheel – too tightly. Head tilted slightly toward the passenger seat, like she hadn’t quite shifted back into driving yet. Watching with that neutral expression she wore when she was holding something in.

Delaney lifted a hand in a small wave. Only when she was inside the lobby, did the car finally pull away.

Mariona’s apartment was dark when she stepped inside. Her shoes hit the floor by the door. Her bag followed. The silence rang in her ears after hours of noise.

She stood there for a moment, staring into space, replaying the look on Alexia’s face. She was worried. Worried that Delaney had started to pull away without realising why. Was she? And if she was... why? Was it Alexia’s intimacy with her in front of the cameras? Was it meeting her family? Or was it the idea that she meant so much to Alexia, that the Spaniard was willing to sacrifice her privacy to go public with her?

“¿Solas?” Alexia had said, and she’d heard the taste of hurt in her voice.

She exhaled, feeling small and alone for once in her life. She was so used to Alexia being in her space. She wished she were there right now. Her soft chuckle, perfume lingering, fingertips gently touching her skin. Somewhere. Anywhere.

“Yeah, solas.” she muttered to herself. “Well this is what you wanted, Delaney. Now you have it. Not so fun, huh?”

She flicked the kitchen light on and began to move automatically - fridge open, food out, pan on the stove. Keeping herself distracted usually steadied her.

But her mind wouldn’t stop.

Knife. Board. Chop. Stir.

Her phone sat on the counter behind her. Face down. Still.

She hadn’t opened anything yet. Not messages. Not Instagram. Not the internet screaming about them. That was the last thing she needed. She thought about calling her sister, but realised the time in Australia was far too late. Instead, she leaned against the counter, wooden spoon resting in the pan, watching the garlic brown. At least Mariona would be there tomorrow for a much needed hug and catch-up.

Sighing, she replayed the day in flashes, trying to source what made her withdraw.

The goal. Alexia’s forehead against hers.

“I want this…” Alexia whispered. “I yam so proud of this.”

Going public would change things. Not how she felt. Not what they were. But everything around it. Privacy wouldn’t be privacy anymore. Their moments would belong to headlines. Every photo would be analysed. Every smile would be dissected. She could handle that. But could Alexia?

Delaney rubbed a hand over her face.

Alexia had carried so much of the world already. Did she want to add this too?

The pan sizzled too loudly. She turned the heat down.

Her phone buzzed, and for some stupid reason, she knew it was her.

Alexia: Home safe, carinyo.

Delaney’s chest tightened. She pictured her alone in her house now. Quiet. Waiting. Trying not to push. Wondering if she was ready to run again, out of the blue.

Guilt settled low in her stomach. Not because she didn’t want her. Because she was worried they were about to do something that couldn’t be undone.

The three little dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Delaney leaned back against the counter, arms crossed tight over her chest like she could hold herself together if she needed to.

The dots vanished, and she exhaled.

“Thank you for the space, Ale.” she whispered.

The kitchen felt too quiet. The garlic had gone past golden. She stirred the pan anyway, even though she wasn’t hungry anymore. The scrape of wood against metal filled the space just enough to stop her thoughts from getting too loud.

She plated the food and sat out on the balcony, eyes flickering over Alexia’s empty chair.

She took two bites. Couldn’t taste a thing. She pushed the plate away and closed her eyes, breathing in the evening air of Barcelona. She mulled over what Alexia’s publicist had said about making a post or stopping the teasing. Alexia hadn’t even needed to explain, she’d understood immediately. These types of people thrive from gossip. Becoming public would take that power away from them.

She kept thinking along those lines, listing pros and cons in her head as she showered. The water ran hotter than usual, steam fogging the mirror. She leant her forehead against the tile and let it pound against the back of her neck, trying to rinse off the day - the noise, the cameras, the weight of what they were deciding.

Her body felt strange without Alexia near it. Like a habit had been interrupted mid-motion. No hand on her waist. No quiet hum as she thought. No presence close by.

She rubbed at her chest, annoyed at the ache settling there.

“This was your idea,” she muttered to herself. “Take a breath. Just like she taught you.”

When she stepped out, the apartment felt even quieter.

She put on one of Alexia’s old Barça training shirts - the one she’d “forgotten” at her place weeks ago. It hung slightly too big on her shoulders.

The bed was too wide, the indent of Alexia’s body still on her side. She just stared at the blank ceiling, listening to the hum of the city outside, and let herself lay in the space she’d asked for. Her fingers brushed the edge of her phone. She turned it face down on the bedside table to get rid of the temptation.

Delaney turned onto her side, then her back, then the other side, chasing a position that felt comfortable enough to sleep. The sheets cooled too quickly without another body beside her, without Alexia shifting closer in her sleep. She lasted maybe twenty minutes before reaching for her phone, the light filling the room and washing over her face.

She hadn’t meant to open anything. Just to check the time. But muscle memory took over, and suddenly the match was playing back in fragments - clips, slow-motions, edits already stitched together by strangers who’d watched the whole thing closer than she had.

The goal. The control on her chest. The shot. But it wasn’t just her. Alexia was everywhere in the frame, even when Delaney hadn’t noticed her at the time. Turning before she’d even hit the ground after a tackle, already shouting at the referee, arm raised, beautifully furious on her behalf. Clapping when she pressed. Smiling at the small, smart movements that never made highlight reels. After the whistle, Alexia’s hands had gone straight to her, scanning her face like the result mattered less than whether she was okay.

Delaney swallowed, thumb hovering over the screen. She hadn’t seen half of it in real time.

Somehow, she ended up on TikTok, one video bleeding into the next, edits of Alexia set to dramatic music and soft lighting, her real laugh looping over and over when she’d found something genuinely funny. Then the other side - captain mode, jaw set, eyes sharp, La Reina in full command. Interviews, celebrations, training footage. Strong. Focused. Untouchable. And yet none of them showed the version Delaney knew. The one who hummed under her breath in the kitchen, who traced shapes on her hip without thinking, who pressed quiet kisses to her temple like she was grounding herself.

God, she was beautiful.

The thought gave a steady pull that made her chest ache in a different way. She locked the phone and pressed it against her sternum, as if that might settle the feeling, but it only made her more aware of the space beside her.

She rolled onto her side, curling toward the pillow that still smelled faintly of Alexia’s shampoo from the last time she’d slept there, breathing it in before she could stop herself. This wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just excitement or adrenaline or the rush of something new.

It was attachment.

She’d faced crowds, finals, cameras without blinking. But this - needing someone in the quiet of a dark room, missing the weight of them so badly, she could hardly breathe - this was something else entirely.

“Stupid,” she murmured to herself, though she didn’t mean it. She just missed her.

And the quiet of the room made that impossible to ignore.

It was almost funny, really. Delaney had always thought of herself as independent to a fault, the one who packed up cities and lives and moved forward without looking back too long. And now here she was, staring at the ceiling of an apartment that still didn’t quite feel like hers, wishing Alexia had her arm thrown over her waist, murmuring through her dreams next to her. And instead of feeling like a weakness - she felt like she’d gained something.

Her hand moved beneath the sheets almost absentmindedly, guided more by feeling than thought, her breath evening out as she let the memory of Alexia’s touch fill in the empty space beside her.

“Ale…” she whimpered into the dark, hand grasping at her breast, while the other chased a release she was desperate for.

She felt herself dripping down the insides of her thighs, her rhythm and pressure increasing with her excitement.

“Please, Ale…”

Her orgasm came quietly, more like a soft, stuttering exhale than anything else, leaving her warm and loose in the dark, the tension she’d carried all evening partially unwinding. She lay there afterward, one hand still curled into the fabric of Alexia’s shirt, the other stretched onto the pillow above her head. Her eyes were open, watching the faint shadow of passing headlights drift across the ceiling and disappear again. The ache in her chest had softened into something unsteady now, and her reaction was to ignore it.

She felt lonely. This wasn’t unusual for her. She’d been alone for so long, after all. But this time it felt different. Because she’d become so used to Alexia, that it left a noticeable, hurtful void now when she was alone.

Going public with her didn’t feel wrong. Though, agreeing to it when they were high on their win against Madrid was not the cleverest idea. Delaney needed to think it through first. She knew that about herself. But Alexia’s eagerness and the excitement in her eyes was so encouraging that the though didn’t even scare her in the way she’d expected. If anything, part of her liked the idea of not having to step around it anymore, not having to hide something this good behind closed doors.

What made her hesitate wasn’t the cameras or the headlines or strangers thinking they knew them.

It was Alexia.

The way she already gave so much of herself to the world.

She turned onto her side, curling slightly into the pillow, again breathing in the faint trace of Alexia’s shampoo still clinging to the fabric. Maybe she didn’t have a right to worry about Alexia’s best interests. Maybe Alexia needed someone normal - not in the public eye.

Maybe… she didn’t need to have the answer tonight. Fuck – she was so bad at this.

“You’re going to lose her…” she whispered, without knowing why.

Alexia stepped into the hallway.

“Mami,” she called, voice somehow steady. “No m’heu dit que veníeu.” You didn’t tell me you were coming.

Her mother stood in her open spaced kitchen with shopping bags in her hands. Alba beside her, scanning the house curiously. They both looked Alexia up and down with a start, eyes widening and then wandering to the empty space behind her. Fuck, was it that obvious?

“Ai, perdona, Ale. Has estat una mica callada últimament, així que… hem pensat…” Oh I’m sorry, Ale. You’ve been quiet lately so I… we thought…

Alba gestured to the food. “Hem passat per fer-te el dinar abans d’El Clàsico…” We came by to make you lunch before El Clàsico… She pouted. “Estàvem preocupades…” We were worried…

Alexia ran a hand through her hair, trying and failing to look like someone who had simply slept in. It was so unlike her, she didn't know why she even tried.

“Estic bé, mami.” I’m okay, mami.

She meant it. She’d never meant it more.

Behind her, she could hear Delaney moving in the bedroom - soft footsteps, the quiet rustle of fabric. Alexia felt the awareness of it more than her own body in that moment.

Her family. Her partner. Her house.

All in the same space.

Alba had that look on her face. The ‘should we go?’

But her mami tilted her head. “Sembles… feliç.” You look… happy, she said slowly.

Alexia didn’t answer.

Because at that exact moment, she heard Delaney step into the hallway behind her.

Both of their gazes snapped to her.

“Hola,” Delaney said politely. Shy because of the state of them, but confident because it was who she was.

There was a beat of silence. Alexia was the first to fill it.

“Mami, neta,” she said, brushing her wrist with her fingertips. “This is Delaney.”

Alba’s mouth dropped open. Her mum’s smile softened instantly in recognition. 

“Ah,” she said, stepping forward. “La australiana.”

Delaney blinked. “Yes?” She looked up at Alexia. “Unless there’s another?”

Alexia scoffed and rolled her eyes, muttering in Catalan.

Alba’s shock turned into a cheeky grin. “I knew! She watch you on the.. the TV.”

Delaney’s brow lifted as she looked at Alexia. “Oh?”

Alexia’s mami knew the pair needed space and waved a hand, already half turned toward the kitchen. “Perdona, we come to…” She gestured to the bags of food.

“They come to make food before El Clàsico,” Alexia translated, still trying to process how fast this morning had spiralled.

“We used to do when tati was jounger.” Alba added.

“Suena increíble. Me muero de hambre.” Sounds amazing. I’m starving!

Alexia’s stomach twisted at her accent. She was trying. Alba started forward, curiosity written all over her face, but Alexia held up a hand, gently blocking her path and jerking her head toward the kitchen.

“Venga. Vosaltres cuineu… nosaltres ens dutxem.” Come on. You cook… we shower.

Alba’s grin widened and Alexia was almost certain her gay little sister could smell the sex on them from there.

Eli just shook her head, smiling to herself as she was already unpacking vegetables.

Alexia followed Delaney back into the bedroom, turning to close the door, and lock it.

“Is that necessary?”

Alexia shrugged. “I don’t want any more surprise while I finish jou in the shower, nena.”

It was hard for Alexia to focus after their twenty-minute-long shower. Delaney moaning against the hand covering her mouth, her body curved and needy and wet against her own. It was something she wasn’t sure she’d ever be used to. The way her body shivered as she came close, and then shook during her orgasm, well-earned muscles tensing up as she clung to any part of Alexia she could, head tipped back in ecstasy. She was always thankful too. Thanking her with kisses and words and by returning the favour. It wasn’t a one-sided relationship that Alexia had become used to over the years. This was different.

From the bedroom she could hear it - cupboard doors, Alba talking too loudly, Eli directing her in Catalan as she chopped something. The smell hit Alexia before she reached the hallway: garlic, olive oil, her childhood in a kitchen.

Delaney stepped out of the bedroom beside her, hair still damp, wearing a fresh shirt and looking much more relaxed after her latest orgasm. She bumped her shoulder lightly against Alexia’s.

“I know this isn’t how you hoped we'd all meet for the first time…” she murmured.

Alexia huffed a breath that might have been a laugh. “No.”

Delaney smiled. “But is it okay, Ale?”

She stroked her cheek softly. “Sí, carinyo. Is more than okay. I like.” She paused. "Is okay for jou?"

"I think we're ready for it..." she whispered.

Alba saw them first.

Her grin was immediate and unfiltered. “Ahhh, the shower took long, eh?”

“Alba,” Alexia warned, but there was no bite to it.

Eli turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. Her eyes moved from Alexia to Delaney, taking in the damp hair, their shoulders touching.

Delaney stepped forward first, grinning her charismatic smile. She always managed to win over people so quickly. Her family was no exception.

“Hola, Eli. I’m Delaney.”

Eli wiped her hands on a cloth and reached out, pulling her into a typical Putellas hug. “Eli,” she said, accent thick, eyes kind. “Encantada.” Nice to meet you.

Alba slid into the greetings. “I’m Alba. The favourite sister.”

Alexia snorted. “Only sister.”

Alba shrugged, winking at her over Delaney’s shoulder as they hugged.

“Tati, how it feel to play the best player in the world?”

Delaney jumped in to save her. “I think your sister still has that one, but I should be playing tonight.”

“Jou play first game at El Clàsico?” Eli asked excitedly, clapping her hands together. “We feed both jou.”

Delaney chuckled. “Sí, es mi primer partido con la blaugrana. ¡Estoy emocionada! ¿Vais a venir?” Yes, my first game in blaugrana. I’m excited! Are you coming?

“Claro, we come. Alexia have seat for us.”

They all looked so excited; it was a warming feeling for Alexia just watching.

“Jou speak espanyol o català?”

“Estoy aprendiendo español por ahora and will hopefully learn Catalan after.” I’m learning Spanish for now…

“És massa complicat aprendre totes dues alhora, mami. El castellà és més útil. Ella sap una mica de català, però ho vam parlar i vam decidir que el castellà era millor. No gaires jugadores parlen català tampoc, així que no tenia gaire sentit.” It's too complicated to learn both at the same time, mami. Spanish is more useful. She knows a little Catalan but we talked about it and decided Spanish was best. Not many players speak Catalan either so it didn't make sense.

She saw Delaney looking between the two, unable to keep up, and rubbed her lower back reassuringly, far too close to Delaney's ass. “Spanish for now, sí?”

“Castellà de moment.” She agreed.

The pair joined in on the lunch preparations, moving around each other in the kitchen, a gentle chaos that felt oddly natural. Alba handed Delaney vegetables to chop, explaining in a mix of English and Catalan what went where. Delaney listened carefully, nodding, occasionally glancing at Alexia to make sure she was still comfortable with the situation.

Her mami spoke less English, but Alexia could tell she watched more. She guided Delaney with her hands through the meal and was in no way subtle as she watched the pair around each other. Shoulders grazing, hands reassuring, smiles widening.

At one point Eli nudged Alexia’s arm and murmured, “Estàs bé.” You’re okay.

Alexia met her eyes.

“Estic bé, mami.” More than okay, mami.

They ate at the table together, conversation bouncing awkwardly between languages. Alexia did most of the translating, sometimes badly, sometimes on purpose. Delaney tried. Spanish words slipped out between English sentences, sometimes incorrect, every time with that strong Australian accent of hers, and every time she did, Alexia felt that quiet twist in her chest again as they all spent time together.

She noticed Eli subtly investigating with her curious questions, some at which Alexia scolded whenever she was within an earshot, however that wasn’t always the case.

“Jou play late, no?” Eli asked.

“Tonight?”

“She mean late in jour life,” Alba translated.

“Oh, sí. I play late. Hace unos años.” Few years ago.

Her eyebrows raised. “Jou like?”

“Me encanta el fútbol. No como a Alexia, pero me encanta.” I love to play football. Not like Alexia, but I love it.” She tucked a leg under her on the chair. “I grew up playing Australian football. But it’s not as developed as European football is.”

Alexia translated. She knew this already about her. They’d had many conversations about each other’s aspirations before Delaney had moved to Barcelona. So this wasn’t new to her. But her mami looked surprised.

She asked what she did before, and Delaney had spoken about the financial work she did. It earnt very good money, but not to the football level she was at. It was much more stable in the longer term, though. But she had her degrees and experience and knew she could go back to it anytime. Eli and Alba listened interestedly as she admitted that football wasn’t the love of her life. Delaney had almost looked embarrassed admitting it, as if she were taking someone’s place, and Alexia had reached over to tangle their fingers in quiet support as she spoke. She’d thought about going back to finance before taking the contract in Barcelona… that much was new information to Alexia. She had a slightly guilty look on her face as she studied Alexia, but the Spaniard had only stroked her hand with her thumb in encouragement. Anything to get Delaney to open up to her.

They graduated out to the the lounging area in Alexia’s back yard to soak in the midday sun, Eli and Alba to a lounge each, Alexia and Delaney sharing one. She slung an arm over her shoulder as she lay against her, holding Alexia’s hand between her own.

Alexia's discussion with her publicist drifted around her mind as they relaxed so comfortably together around others for the first time. She kissed Delaney’s temple as she chuckled about something with Alba. She wanted this.

“Germaneta, guarda el mòbil, que no ets paparazzi.” Little sister, put your phone away, you’re not paparazzi. She scolded.

Alba shrugged. “Doncs deixa de ser tan mona i deixaré de fer fotos.” Well stop being so cute and I'll stop taking photos. “Les dues futbolistes més grans del planeta s’estan enrotllant. Això és un escàndol.” The two biggest football players on the planet are sleeping together. This is scandalous.

Her mami tutted. “Alba, si us plau. Deixa-les tranquil·les. I es veu que és molt més que això.” Alba, please. Leave them be. And you can see it's much more than that.

Alexia was met with her mother’s knowing look.

“No m’havia adonat que tenies tan pocs diners. Ja saps que em pots demanar diners abans d’arribar a vendre fotos, no?” I didn't realise how little money you had. You know you can ask me for money before resorting to selling pictures, no?

“Pfft. Ja m’ho agrairàs en el future, tati.” You'll thank me in the future, big sister.

“Saps alguna cosa que jo no sé?” You know something I don’t?

Even behind her sunglasses, she could see Alba’s eyes flicking between the two. “Clarament.” Clearly.

As the sun rose higher, and El Clàsico loomed closer, Alexia was the first to stand, gently withdrawing herself from behind Delaney, and took the dishes inside. She was pondering over the game when Alba dropped the remainder of their dishes off.

Alexia jerked her head towards Eli and Delaney outside. “No necessiten traductor?” They don’t need a translator?

“Oh, i tant que sí, però jo no m’hi fico.” Oh they absolutely do, but I'm not getting involved in that.

She gazed outside at her mami using more body language to get something across, Delaney nodding along encouragingly. Her mind took a snapshot of the pair leaning towards each other, going above and beyond to communicate because Alexia meant so much to them both.

“De què parlen?” What are they talking about?

Alba gave her a funny look.

“Digues-me.” Tell me.

She sighed. “L’últim que he sentit, la mami li preguntava si volia fills i una família, i després ha començat a preguntar si voldria portar-los ella— merda, Alexia. No diguis que he dit res!” Last I heard, mami was asking her if she wanted kids and a family and then started asking if she'd want to carry- shit, Alexia. Don't say I said anything!

Alexia slid the glass door open. “Mama!” She warned. “Què fas? La vols espantar o què? T’ha conegut fa una hora! Aquesta no és una conversa per a la primera vegada que us veieu!” What are you doing? Are you trying to scare her away? She met you an hour ago! This is not a conversation for a first meeting!

Eli held up her hands in submission and Delaney chuckled as she walked over to a grumpy Alexia, rubbing her stomach with her palm reassuringly. “It’s okay, Ale. We were just getting to know each other.”

She huffed. “This is what I worry about, nena,” she said in a low, gruffle. “They are a lot.”

Delaney cradled her face, stroking with cheek her thumb as she calmed down under her touch. She pushed herself up on her toes and Alexia’s eyes fluttered closed as her lips touched her cheek softly.

“I think they’re perfect.”

The match settled into a grind almost immediately. Madrid pressed high, bullying the Barcelona back line. Their midfield crowded space, forcing Barça wide, cutting off the easy combinations they relied on. Alexia adjusted, dropping deeper, pulling the tempo back, trying to stretch the game until it cracked. But it didn’t. It wouldn’t.

Halftime came and went.

Still 0 - 0.

By the 70th minute, the game felt like it was at a tipping point. Pere substituted many players for fresh legs and, watching him scramble, Madrid sensed opportunity and pushed harder, throwing numbers forward. Barça’s back line held, but only just.

A sudden roar came from the crowd louder than any during the match so far. Struggling to catch her breath, Alexia glanced toward the bench and saw Delaney shrugging her jacket off.

Although she didn’t look nervous in any sense, Alexia had never wanted her to debut into such a high stress situation. Especially seeing as it was her first game in blaugrana. But that was where she always shone.

The board went up in the 80th minute, Pere giving her last minute instructions as she jogged on.

The stadium exploded - flags whipping, drums pounding, a surge of “BA-KER! BA-KER!” rolling across the stands. A roar, not a cheer – the proof that she truly was one of the best. She jogged into position beside Alexia, accepting slaps of encouragement from teammates along the way.

The whistle blew.

Madrid believed they could win, and so they pushed forward immediately - and Delaney pressed back like she’d been ready for it. Alexia had forgotten just how quick she was. How good at analysing the game from the sidelines she was. She closed down angles, won duels, snapped to the right spots as if she’d played alongside the girls for years. She slid into their midfield naturally, her touches clean, head on a swivel, scanning, processing, anticipating. Alexia adjusted her own positioning automatically.

And then it happened.

The thing she’d only let herself suspect when Delaney signed. The thing you got once in a career if you were lucky. The thing Alexia had suspected on the first day Delaney arrived at Barça.

They moved together symbiotically. Instinctually.

Delaney stepped - Alexia stepped.

Alexia dropped - Delaney rose.

Delaney pressed left - Alexia covered behind without thinking.

Players dream their whole lives of partnerships like this. It wasn’t something they’d ever trained, but they just knew each other that well, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

A silent: ‘I know you. I know where you’ll be’.

Delaney never hesitated or wondered where Alexia would shoot, whether she would back heel or lob or spin through players. She was simply there were she needed her, already moving towards the spot. They carved through the Madrid midfield like a pair of blades. By the 90th minute, the rhythm on the pitch had changed completely. Real Madrid were now scrambling. The shape of the team adjust naturally to the pair bullying them in the centre. By the 90th+3 minute, Madrid finally cracked.

It started with a ball from Mapi, swung long and fast across the top of the midfield. Delaney took it on her chest - perfect, controlled, silky - and Alexia knew it was coming. She sprinted. A Madrid defender charged Delaney down, but she didn’t panic. She just… breathed. A small touch. A pivot. A burst of acceleration. Two defenders gone. She kept going - head high, stride lengthening. Alexia reached the forward position to support, dragging her own marker with her, creating space wide.

Delaney saw it.

Of course she did.

She passed - no look, just trust. Alexia flicked it back cleverly, first time, into the perfect seam of space, and Delaney shot. Left foot. Clean. Low. Precise. The kind of shot that Misa had no chance of stopping.

1-0.

The stadium detonated.

Delaney barely had time to react before she was swallowed - Ona tackling her from the side, Mapi dragging her into a headlock, Pina wrapping her arms around her waist, Cata shouting something incoherent from down the field. Alexia jogged over slower, more tired, relishing the moment. Delaney turned - and the smile she wore was contagious.

Alexia reached her, cupped the back of her neck, and pressed her forehead to hers for one brief second.

“Perfecto, nena.”

The contact lasted barely a heartbeat - forehead to forehead, noise and teammates crashing around them - but it grounded Alexia more than anything else on that pitch.

Delaney laughed, breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes bright in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline alone. She was being shoved, hugged, shouted over, dragged down onto the grass by teammates who already adored her.

And Alexia stood there for a second, just watching.

Mine, something inside her said, not possessive, just… certain. Certain in the way she’d been certain about football her entire life.

The referee’s whistle blew for the restart, Madrid playing with a sense of frantic desperation now. Alexia dropped back into shape immediately, voice cutting through the noise as she organised the press, pulling everyone into position.

“Compacte! Juntes!” Compact. Together.

Delaney was already there, tracking back without needing to be told, sliding into the midfield line and nodding to something Patri had asked her. They were already asking her opinion. She was already leading with Alexia.

The final minutes stretched, every second long, Madrid throwing crosses, long shots, bodies forward. Cata punched one clear. Mapi headed another. Delaney intercepted a through ball and absorbed the contact that came with it, riding the tackle, keeping possession.

“¡Buena, Danny!” Irene shouted, clapping roughly.

Delaney grinned but didn’t break focus until the final whistle.

The stadium erupted again, relief and triumph pouring down from the stands. Alexia saw her family jumping for joy in the friends-and-family section, arms raised. No doubt her mami would claim this victory due to her cooking. She turned and saw Delaney bent forward, hands on her knees, laughing as she tried to catch her breath.

Alexia stepped into her space, hand finding the back of her neck, pulling her head into the crook of her neck.

“Ja està,” she murmured. It’s done.

Delaney shook her head, smiling like she couldn’t process it. “That was… insane.”

Alexia laughed quietly. “Welcome to Barça, ey?”

Around them, chants rolled through the stands. Not just for her. For Delaney now too. Her eyes roamed the crowd, Delaney held against her body, where she found her family again, waving ecstatically. Her biggest supporters.

“Ale?” Delaney’s voice drifted through, muffled by her neck.

She loosened her hold and met those big blue eyes happily shining back at her, fingers gripping the back of Alexia’s jersey.

“Sí?”

“This is very public.”

She hesitated. “I…”

How was it possible for the whole world to disappear around them whenever she was looking at her?

“I want this.” She admitted, huskily. “I want jou.”

“You have me, Ale..”

“Jou no want public?”

The Australian rolled her eyes. “I just want what we’re building, Alexia. I want us to make a home. I don’t care about the rest of it all.” She caught sight of Eli and Alba and grinned at them, returning their enthusiastic wave. “Though being public would probably make it easier…”

Alexia turned toward their celebrating teammates, arm still loosely around her shoulders as they wandered over to join. Delaney’s hand found the skin of her waist under her jersey and she felt her skin tingle at the contact.

“La meva publicista say we make post or we be secret. No more teasing.”

“That's a shame. We certainly enjoy the teasing.” She pulled Alexia to a stop before they reached the celebrations, head tilting up to her again. “But I know you care more about protecting what we have.” She began to raise her hand toward Alexia's cheek and caught herself, dropping it. “You’ve never liked fame, Ale. I’m impartial to it. I can be in this relationship privately, or I can be in it publicly. Whatever you decide.”

Her publicist’s words flooded back to her about the people who will always want to know. Always invade their space without consent. Being a footballer on the world stage meant privacy would only ever be so private.

Delaney’s thumb stroked her waist, warm against her skin. She didn’t push. Didn’t insist. Didn’t guilt-trip or demand. She’d give Alexia however long she needed to decide, and she knew that.

‘Whatever you decide.’

Alexia glanced past her shoulder. Cameras were still everywhere. Teammates celebrating. Staff walking onto the pitch. The kind of chaos where moments get captured and rewritten by strangers before you’ve even had a chance to explain the context.

Then she looked back at Delaney.

At the woman who had uprooted her life, moved to Barcelona just to try, and immediately fit into her club and her family like she’d always belonged.

Who didn’t need the world to see them - but wouldn’t run from it either.

Alexia’s chest tightened.

“I want to protec… this,” she said quietly. “Us.”

Delaney’s eyes softened.

“I know,” she replied.

“I want this…” she whispered. “I yam so proud of this. I want people to know but…”

“…on our terms.”

“Sí, Danny. On our term.” She smiled at her. “I make post after the game.”

Delaney didn’t grin stupidly. She didn’t make a joke.

She just nodded once, eyes shining in a way that told Alexia she’d made the right decision.

“Okay, Ale.”

Their teammates had clearly decided they’d had enough space, voices rising as they called them over, bouncing in place, still high on adrenaline.

Alexia hesitated only a second longer.

She leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to Delaney’s forehead, hearing the gentle sigh of her beneath her lips - before finally letting herself be pulled back into the chaos. Then she pulled back, thumb brushing once along Delaney’s jaw, and let the moment go.

Alexia grinned without meaning to, her shoulders relaxing as she studied the photo, in particular, Delaney, closer than she would anyone else.

She typed back quickly.

Alexia: I hope she know this.

Three dots appeared almost instantly, then vanished. Alexia imagined Delaney’s smile, the way it always lingered just a second longer when she was amused. She set the phone face down beside her laptop and then snatched it as soon as it buzzed again.

“Ja gairebé hi som, dona’m un segon…” Almost there, just give me a second… her publicist murmured as she played around with the screens.

Delaney: Oh, she does.

Delaney: Do you mind if I post this with the caption as my first message?

Alexia chewed on the corner of her lip. It was laughable, the fact that she was just about to have a conversation about this exact thing. The noise of them online. The speculation. She’d always been a private person, and she wanted to protect what she had with Delaney as it was so special to her.

But she also wanted people to know she was hers…

Alexia: Sí, nena. Está bien. Yes baby. It’s okay.

Alexia: Gracias por preguntarme. Thank you for asking me.

On the screen, her publicist cleared her throat.

“Bé, hi ha hagut un augment notable de l’atenció a les xarxes.” So, there’s been a noticeable increase in online attention. She said gently.

Alexia leant back in her chair, choosing the oblivious approach. “Sobre futbol?” About football?

There was a flicker of amusement on the other woman’s face. “No exactament.” Not exactly.

She tapped something off-screen, and Alexia’s laptop chimed as a document appeared in the shared window. Screenshots. Posts. Comments. Clips.

Alexia recognised them immediately.

A slowed-down video from training, zoomed in too tightly to be accidental - Alexia’s hand brushing Delaney’s lower back as she passed behind her, the way Delaney had turned her head instinctively, smiling before she’d even seen who it was.

A still from a match, paused at the exact second Alexia’s eyes were locked on Delaney sitting on the bench, mouth curved in something that was not quite professional teammates.

A fan edit, dramatic music swelling beneath overlapping shots of the two of them walking out to training together, then cutting to moments where they’d gravitated toward each other without realising it - shoulders touching, laughter shared during The Best awards, the first moment they’d met during internationals, Delaney leaning in to say something that made Alexia light up, grinning like an idiot, her eyes unable to be anywhere but on the Australian.

Underneath it all, comments stacked endlessly.

Tell me I’m not crazy. They look at each other like that on purpose. Alexia does NOT smile like that at just anyone. Dellie moved continents and immediately found her soulmate... or did she move for her soulmate? I’m sorry but this is not platonic behaviour.

Alexia exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled.

“Són aficionats. Sempre especulen.” They’re fans. They always speculate.

“Sí,” her publicist agreed easily. “Però això és més… sostingut. I no és hostil. És afectuós. La gent hi està implicada.” But this is more… sustained. And it’s not hostile. It’s affectionate. People are invested.

Alexia nodded slowly, thinking. Her publicist was asking her without asking her, and she didn’t deny any of it. That would have been pointless. The clips weren’t lies. They were moments taken out of context, yes - but the context didn’t erase them. It was all real.

She thought of Delaney in London for her brand deal, laughing across a café table with Mariona, utterly unbothered by the idea of being seen, just by them being in any way affected negatively. She thought of the nights split between her house and Mariona’s apartment a few blocks away, the frustration of not being able to sleep when they took nights apart, the way they’d started leaving things behind on purpose. A jumper here. A book there. They were now both the proud owners of multiple toothbrushes.

“No hem publicat res,” We haven’t posted anything, Alexia said. “Cap comunicat. Cap confirmació.” No statement. No confirmation.

“Ho sé,” I know, her publicist replied. “I això és part del motiu pel qual està guanyant força. El silenci crea espai perquè la gent ompli els buits… i la petita publicació de la Delaney d’ara mateix n’és un exemple.” And that’s part of the reason it’s gaining traction. Silence creates space for people to fill in the gaps… and Delaney’s little post just now is an example of such space.

Alexia held down a smirk and looked at the screen again, at her own image reflected back at her. She looked calm. She rarely looked anything else.

“T’ho diré quan sigui el moment adequat…” I’ll tell you when the time is right… Alexia said carefully.

Her publicist held her gaze through the camera where she gave her a reassuring look. They knew each other better than that.

“M’has entès malament, Alexia. Ja ho sé… i estic molt contenta per tu. Tots ho estem. Però vull que siguis conscient de les opcions que tens aquí, des del punt de vista de la imatge…” You misunderstand me, Alexia. I already know... and I'm very happy for you. We all are. But I want to make you aware of your choices here, from an image point of view...

She raised one finger. “Mantens el silenci. Tu i la Delaney aneu amb compte. Si més no, públicament. No alimenteu l’especulació. Deixeu que s’esgoti sola o que es consolidi com a soroll de fons. Això evitarà que alguns personatges amb massa interès vagin massa lluny i s’immisceixin en la teva vida privada.” You stay silent. You and Delaney are careful. Publicly, at least. No feeding the speculation. Let it burn itself out or stabilise into background noise. This will avoid any interesting characters going too far and inserting themselves into your private life.

A second finger. “O publiques. En els teus termes. Tu controles el relat, encara que sigui només per un moment. Només cal una foto. Una frase. Quelcom senzill. Ni tan sols cal que jo hi estigui implicada, si ho prefereixes.” Or you post. On your terms. You control the narrative, even if only briefly. You only need one photo. One line. Something simple. I don't even need to be involved if you would prefer it.

Alexia’s phone buzzed again. She didn’t look at it yet.

“I si no fem res?” And if we do nothing? Alexia asked. She already knew the answer but had to hear it.

Her publicist’s expression softened, just a touch. “Aleshores la gent continuarà mirant. De prop. Cada mirada, cada gest, cada celebració. No de manera maliciosa, sinó amb molta atenció. Sé que valores molt la teva vida privada, i això seria una invasió. També la de la Delaney.” Then people will keep watching. Closely. Every look, every touch, every celebration. Not maliciously - but intently. I know you cherish your private life, and that would be invaded. Delaney’s too.

She felt her body stiffen at the thought of Delaney being harassed.

“No serà el mateix igualment?” Won’t it be the same regardless?

“Sou totes dues molt conegudes. És cert que rebríeu molta atenció si publiquéssiu alguna cosa juntes a les xarxes. Però, per la meva experiència, és molt, molt millor que tenir els tabloides barallant-se per informació que no tenen. Cada escapada, cada moment privat en públic quedaria molt més exposat.” You are both very well-known. It's true that you will get a lot of attention if you were to post together online. But in my experience, it is much, much better than having tabloids fighting over information they don't have. Every getaway, every private moment in public will be much more invaded.

She reached for her phone finally, needing to think. Messages already coming her way about the meaning of Delaney’s post, the comments going wild, filled with tags of Alexia. It wasn’t a bad feeling, she noticed.

“No ens precipitaran… però en parlaré amb la Delaney.” We won’t be rushed… but I’ll talk to Delaney about it.

Her publicist nodded. “És tot el que esperava.” That’s all I hoped for.

Alexia didn’t realise how quiet the apartment felt without Delaney until her voice filled it again.

“Hola,” Delaney said lightly, the noise of the airport bustling in the background: rolling suitcase wheels, a distant announcement, people talking about flights.

Alexia leant back against the washing machine, smiling. “Hola, carinyo.”

“Bad news,” Delaney said. “We’re delayed. Weather around the airport here is awful.”

She was pretty sure she heard thunder crack in the background. Sunny old London.

“¿Cuánto tiempo?” How long? Over the past few weeks, she’d slowly been feeding Spanish into their conversations, upon Delaney’s request, to help her improve.

“Un par de horas.” A couple of hours. Alexia heard her shuffle and adjust the strap on her bag. “You don’t need to wait up.”

Alexia scoffed. The thought of Delaney landing after midnight, tired and alone, sliding into the back of a taxi and disappearing toward Mariona’s apartment instead of her house where Alexia could see her, touch her, look after her - tightened something proud in her chest.

“Esperaré.” I will wait, Alexia said stubbornly.

“Alexia…” Delaney’s tone softened, that reassuring voice she used when she thought Alexia was being unreasonable. “Tienes El Clásico mañana. Necesitas dormir.” You have El Clásico tomorrow. You need sleep. She yawned. “I’ll just taxi to Mariona’s. It’s easier.”

Alexia could hear her fatigue, the switch to English evident of that. “No, nena. I pick jou up. Jou sleeping here tonight."

Delaney exhaled slowly on the other end of the line, and Alexia could almost see her leaning against a pillar somewhere, smiling to herself.

“You’re stubborn,” Delaney murmured.

“Sí.”

“Okay.”

Something in Alexia’s shoulders loosened.

“The house is warm, I have food here and I wash our clothes for El Clásico mañana.”

Delaney chuckled tiredly. “La reina, el ama de casa.” La reina, the house wife.

“Sí. Solo para ti.” Yes. Only for you. She paused. “I like to do this.”

“I noticed. It’s your love language, you know that right?”

“My loving language?”

“Sí, Ale. There are five. Words of affirmation. Receiving gifts. Quality time. Physical touch. Acts of service.” Alexia didn’t understand a few words, and Delaney continued, knowing she wouldn’t. “You’re a homebody. You like to make sure the people you love are looked after and fed and happy. You’re getting better at words… I think that’s both of our weak points, but we make up for it with our body language and the quality time we take.”

“We do thing for each other because we care.”

“Sí, Ale. Plus it helps that we’re both mature adults over thirty, and that you’re an Aquarius.”

Alexia laughed. “You like the stars too, nena?”

“When the stars say we’re a good match, I do.”

“They do?” That piqued her interest. She’d never really looked far into astrology. “How much?”

Delaney gave a happy hum – the sound she always made when Alexia showed interest in something she liked. “Very, very much.”

“Jou send me this?”

“I’ll send you a few links, Ale. Then I’m going to nap in the lounge.”

“Text me when jou board.”

“Sí, capitana,” Delaney teased gently, “but only if you promise we both get some sleep while I fly.”

“Ho prometo.”

The call ended, leaving a lingering warmth in Alexia’s chest. She had grown accustomed to the feeling, but it was still just as prominent at when she’d first felt it.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Alba: Estàs viva? La mami diu que has tornat a estar callada. Are you alive? Mami says you’ve gone quiet again.

Alexia stared at the message for a long moment.

She loved her mami and sister more than anything. They kept her grounded and gave meaning to everything she did. But lately, she had been… somewhere else, and they’d noticed. But she wasn’t withdrawn from sadness. Quite the opposite. She’d been withdrawn because something new was growing in her life, something small and private and alive with Delaney, and she didn’t want it touched yet.

If she told them now, it would become real in a different way. She hadn’t wanted to push her and Delaney into that just yet. But over the past few days she’d been considering introducing them all at last. Her favourite person meeting her family. It was a big step to take for two people still finding the relationship together.

She locked the phone.

Later.

She would answer later.

The drive to the airport was quiet with the city half-asleep. Alexia drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the passenger side of the centre console, her mind drifting between tomorrow’s match and the thought of Delaney getting closer.

By the time the arrivals doors slid open and Delaney stepped through, it was past one. She looked tired and travel-worn – her hoodie soft around her body - but when she spotted Alexia, her entire face changed. It always did. It was never subtle, and it made Alexia’s heart beat harder.

Delaney crossed the space between them in long strides, dropped her bag, and wrapped her arms around Alexia without hesitation. Her temple brushed Alexia’s cheek, her breath warm against her neck. Alexia’s arms tightened.

“Hola, Ale.” Delaney murmured huskily.

Alexia’s hand slid up her back, fingers pressing briefly between her shoulder blades. “Hola, carinyo.”

They stayed like that longer than they meant to, airport noise rushing around them, unable to touch what was theirs.

“You came,” Delaney said softly, pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I say I wheel come.”

Delaney’s smile curved slowly, like the gesture meant more to her than Alexia realised in her own tired state. “Yeah, you did.”

Alexia caught on eventually that Delaney was seeing her become that reliable person for her. She reached down to pick up her bag and open the passenger door.

“Venga. Vamos a casa.” Come on. Let’s go home.

As Alexia slid into the car, Delaney’s hand found her thigh almost immediately, thumb tracing slow, mindless circles through the fabric like she was saying thank you. Alexia drove one-handed again, the other resting over Delaney’s fingers, holding them in place.

Neither of them spoke much, Delaney’s head dropping every now and again as sleep threatened to take her. By the time Alexia pulled into the driveway, her head was against her shoulder, her breath steady. It was hard to find the will just to wake her.

Inside the house, the lights stayed off. They kicked their shoes off at the entrance and made their way to the bedroom. Alexia dropped Delaney’s bag near the part of the wardrobe she’d made space for her in, and turned to see the Australian clumsily stripping the last of her clothes for bed.

Delaney moved toward the bed, then paused, turning back just long enough to look at Alexia properly, as if confirming she was still there.

She stepped closer, pushing up on her tiptoes to reach her height.

Their mouths met slowly, reassuringly. Alexia felt herself melt into the softness of her, translating it as not just a ‘thank you’, but an ‘I missed you’. Delaney was right in their conversation earlier. Words were not their strong point… but the way they knew each other like this made up for it. Delaney’s hand slid to Alexia’s waist, thumb grazing under the edge of her shirt. Alexia felt the warmth of it all the way down.

They broke apart only because fatigue dragged at them both.

Delaney fell into bed first, reaching for Alexia before her eyes were fully closed. Alexia slipped in beside her, letting herself be pulled close, Delaney’s arm heavy across her waist, her breath warm against Alexia’s collarbone.

Alexia felt her body almost breathe a sigh of relief at the feeling of holding her. Having her there. It was peace of mind on multiple fronts. Not only was she safe, but Alexia knew that they’d both have a restful night’s sleep. She was exactly where she wanted to be. She closed her eyes and let herself fall with Delaney wrapped around her like she had nowhere better to be.

DELANEY

Nothing could ever compete with waking to the sounds of Australia… but Barcelona was slowly becoming a close second. Although Alexia’s house was more isolated, she could still hear the city. The scooters, the bells, the overall peacefulness of it all.

But not only that. It was the house. Alexia’s house. How she’d gotten used to the quiet click of Alexia’s bare feet on tile at six in the morning. The soft scrape of a chair being pulled back precisely the same distance every time. The low sigh Alexia made under her breath when she concentrated - brushing her teeth, tying her laces, chopping garlic.

At first, Delaney thought she was imagining it. That it was just what happened when you stayed somewhere new for too long. But weeks passed, the sound never went away. To others it might have been frustrating. But for Delaney, it steadied her. It was routine where she wasn’t used to it. A sense of grounding she didn’t know she needed. She’d been moving so often for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to have something so real and so right.

She woke up with Alexia’s arm heavy across her stomach, sunlight warming the side of her face, and for a terrifying second she realised just how comforted she was by this. How confident that this was her life now.

She stilled, watching the Spaniard.

Alexia’s breathing was slow and even, her face softened in sleep in a way Delaney had learned was rare and precious. There was no tension in her jaw, no furrow between her brows. Just rest. Real rest.

Delaney swallowed around the lump in her throat.

She’d never been the person someone slept like that with. Trusted enough to let go completely. She brushed her thumb lightly over Alexia’s knuckles, half-expecting her to wake like she used to at the start - but she didn’t. She only shifted closer, cheek pressing into Delaney’s shoulder like it was an instinct. Delaney stared at the beauty of her, heart pounding as she realised that she had not one single temptation to run.

Quite the opposite.

She wanted to slip deeper under the blankets with her and hide away from the world together. Just for the morning, at the very least.

She felt Alexia stir and watched her begin to wake. Alexia’s hair was a mess against the pillow, her more natural brunette strands across her neck, lips parted slightly as her breathing changed. The shadows of the creases at the corner of her eyes slowly deepened, and Delaney felt something in her chest melt at the sight. She loved seeing them whenever Alexia smiled or laughed. She loved seeing this in general. This version of her - not la reina, not the captain, not the icon - just a woman, deeply asleep and trusting enough to curl around her. This version of Alexia was hers. Though if she mentioned that, she knew that straight away Alexia would insist all of the others were hers, too.

Smirking at the thought, she brushed her thumb lightly over Alexia’s cheek.

Her chin tilted up into the feeling, a sound escaping her lips before her eyes blinked open, golden hazel and unfocused at first. Then they found Delaney’s face.

The change was immediate.

Softness. Happiness. A twinkling of sorts. That small, private expression she only wore when they were alone.

“Bon dia…” Alexia murmured, voice deep.

“Bon dia,” Delaney whispered back.

After a few moments of simply smiling at each other, their heads drifted together, lips touching. At first it resembled the kiss before they’d slept, but now it was much more than that. Alexia hummed softly against her mouth and pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together, thighs brushing, hands sliding into familiar places without thought. Delaney shifted her body onto Alexia’s, pressing herself unashamedly against her thigh and gradually rocking against the seasoned muscle there.

Alexia groaned under her mouth, her hand slapped hard and sharp on her ass in encouragement.

“Sí, Danny. Así, nena.” Yes, Danny. That’s it, baby.

Over the past weeks they’d had sex many times since the night Delaney had first stayed, and they’d fallen comfortably into the realisation that Alexia was much more the dominant personality than she was in bed. She could be sometimes... and that was more than okay… but having a sexual partner who was more of a top was new to her. She’d control how they fucked and give her reassurance and praise she didn’t know she craved. It was who Alexia was. Even in Catalan, just the tone of her voice would be enough. And this, she discovered, she really, really liked. Especially the praise. As much was evident from the feel of her neediness coating through her underwear onto Alexia’s thigh, her body practically begging for her.

Alexia’s hand drifted over Delaney’s waist, up the curve of her back. Delaney shivered faintly as she rocked, eyes half-lidded, and kissed her again - deeper this time, slower, that heat building the way it always did when they had nowhere else to be.

Sunlight slid across the sheets. The house was still besides their horny sounds.

Alexia’s fingers slipped under the edge of Delaney’s underwear, warm against her skin. Delaney let out a quiet breath into her mouth, her own hand moving to Alexia’s hip, pulling her closer for better friction. She worked herself up the point of frustration, her body shaking while she sucked on one of Alexia’s hardened nipples, fingers teasing her clit over the underwear. Alexia was just as worked up as she from this, her underwear soaking her up. Delaney’s impatience moved her hand down, two fingers slipping inside of her without any resistance, knuckle deep. Alexia’s back arched in surprise, a gasp slipping from her lips. In response, she bucked Delaney up the bed, her hands landing either side of her head on the pillow, chuckling.

“I taste jou first.”

Delaney swept her hair over one shoulder, arching her back for a good view. “But I want to taste you…” she whispered against her lips. To prove a point, she took her fingers to her mouth and sucked the taste of Alexia from them.

She braced herself, knowing that she would try to throw her on her back and grinned when her attempt failed. Alexia let out a huff of frustration, quickly captured by Delaney’s mouth.

“What do you want, la reina?” She whispered between kisses. Her mouth made its way to her ear and nipped. Alexia’s nails dug into her hips as a warning and she couldn’t help but gasp into her ear.

“Nena…” she warned, long and drawn out.

“You want me to sit on your face?”

Alexia shivered under her. She dragged her core over Alexia’s hardened abs.

“Hm?”

God, she loved to test her patience. Her dominance. Her control.

“Sí…” she whispered roughly. She peeled the underwear off Delaney, tossing them.

“But I want to taste you too…” Her fingers wandered down to Alexia’s own ruined underwear, discarding them. Alexia began to sit up, eyes dark, and Delaney pushed her back down. “Queda’t, Ale.” Stay, Ale.

Delaney swung her leg over her backwards, sitting on her face as her own mouth lowered onto Alexia’s core. The Spaniard gave a grateful groan into her, tongue already expertly making her legs tingle while her fingers dug into the thighs either side of her head.

She ate Alexia out just the way she’d learnt she liked over the past few weeks, rewarded with trembling, her breath stuttering into her. The Spaniard gripped her thighs tighter, pulling her down heavier onto her mouth until Delaney began to worry she’d suffocate like that. She couldn’t help but rock back into her mouth the closer she got, unable to stop her whimpering as she swallowed the taste of her.

It took only minutes for the pair to reach their high and just before she came, she was thrust off, her back finding the softness of the blanket under her with a surprised gasp.

“Ale… I was so close…” she complained as she was jerked up the bed by her ankles.

“Ho sé. Paciència, nena.” I know. Patience, baby.

Alexia positioned Delaney’s legs up and apart, pressing her soaked cunt against her own and grinding against her. She steadied herself over her, hands gripping the bedsheets as she rubbed their clits together.

Delaney’s responding moan was deep and guttural. “Oh.. fuck… yeah… fuck…”

After their mouths, it didn’t take long to cum. Especially with the sight of a sweaty, needy, desperate Alexia above her.

“Yes… yes… can I cum? Ale… please, can I…?”

“Sí, nena. Corre’t per mi. Corre’t ara mateix, collons.” Yes, baby. Cum for me. Fucking cum right now.

Delaney knew she was going to cum loud, and she didn’t care. At all. Alexia was loud too, and in all fairness, that made her feel comforted knowing it was just as intense for her - their cries echoing through the empty house as Alexia grinded the orgasm out until it's very end.

But they were athletes. And women. And that meant… Alexia was pulling Delaney’s wrists around her neck as she sat her up. That meant they were sat up, tangled around each other, sweaty and needy. That meant, their fingers were already inside each other, needing more.

It had always been that way with her. Once she’d cum outside, she’d needed to cum inside. Alexia’s long fingers were the perfect fit. Stubborn. Unrelenting. She rode them, one hand with nails dug into the Spaniard’s shoulder, the other deep inside of her as Alexia chased her own ending. Their foreheads pressed together, breathing basically just ragged gasps at this point. Alexia encouraged her with Catalan words she mostly didn’t recognise, but she knew it was encouragement. Telling her she felt so good and how much she loved being inside of her.

“Nena, no stop. No… joder! Argh!”

Her body was already tightening, pleasure cresting so fast it felt almost unreal, like she was being pulled under a wave she couldn’t fight. Alexia’s forehead rubbed against her own, breath hot and uneven, her voice high and urgent as she was about to cum, giving Delaney everything she needed. Praise. Want. Need.

“I…I’m cumming again Ale.. Ale I’m… fuck! I’m just about to….”

And then… the unmistakable sound of a key jangling against the front door.

It cut through everything.

Delaney didn’t register it at first. Her body was still chasing that breathless, teetering place, the world narrowed to warmth and closeness and Alexia’s breath on her skin. But Alexia felt it instantly. She went rigid beneath Delaney, every muscle tightening at once.

They froze.

The click of the lock turning was small, but in the quiet of the house, it might as well have been a gunshot.

Delaney’s breath caught in her chest. The rush of pleasure stalled, replaced by something cold through her veins. Her eyes flew open just as Alexia’s did.

Voices drifted in from the hallway, steps getting closer.

“Alexia?”

A woman’s voice.

Then another - younger.

“Tati?!”

Delaney’s brain took a second longer than Alexia’s to catch up.

“Mami y Alba…” she whispered.

The realisation dropped slowly. She forced her eyes to open. The room was dim; the sky outside tinted with gold, the first light slipping across the covers. Was it morning already? Her cheek was squashed against Delaney’s chest, the Australian on her back, one arm beneath Alexia’s neck, the other lying limp across her shoulders, hand caught in her hair like she’d fallen asleep mid–head-stroke. Their legs were tangled messily, a sheet twisted around them, the rest of the bed in complete chaos.

Alexia blinked.

She had slept. Deeply.

No ceiling counting. No replaying passes. No spiralling about Florida or Jenni or the next match. Just… nothing. A clean cut between last night and this morning.

Her throat went tight.

She shifted minutely, testing. Her body ached - in good ways and bad. Her thighs felt heavy, her lower back pulled, her core sore from the way she’d held herself over Delaney. A sudden memory replayed of the Australian on her back, allowing herself to let Alexia fuck her into the bed with grateful whimpers and words of encouragement. She shivered. Her neck protested when she moved it, reminding her she’d slept in a position she never allowed herself in case it made her stiff.

She didn’t care. Not one bit.

Delaney murmured something under her breath and tightened her arm slightly, pulling her in without waking. Alexia felt the breath knocked out of her chest in a slow, disbelieving exhale. Her eyes dropped to the Australian’s face.

Her mouth was parted slightly, lips worn pink from kissing, a faint bruise on the side of her neck where Alexia’s teeth had been. Her hair was a mess of brunette waves, textured with salt and sweat, reminiscent of the night before. There was a crease on her cheek from the pillow and her lashes fluttered with each breath.

She looked… peaceful. Well-fucked. And that pulled tight a thread of pride in Alexia that she'd never felt before.

She swallowed around a strange burn behind her eyes.

‘I did that,’ she thought, feeling the weight of it settle against her ribs. ‘She's here. With me.’

Her gaze drifted lower, over the faint marks she’d left - a line of her teeth at Delaney’s collarbone, the shadow of her fingers at her hips, the almost invisible trail of red near the underside of her breast where Alexia had scraped her nails as she begged her to choose her.

Heat surged through her at the memory, equal parts arousal and something rawer, more fragile. She shut her eyes for a second, replaying the broken way she had said it. ‘I need you to choose me.’

She hadn’t planned to say it. She never planned to say any of those things. They’d just… spilled out. Years of silent fear cracking all at once.

And Delaney had answered.

‘I choose you.’ ‘I won’t stop… because I love you.’ ‘I will always choose you, Alexia.’

Her chest squeezed so hard her breath cut for a moment.

She shifted again, needing to see her properly, and Delaney’s brow creased.

“Ale…” she mumbled, voice submerged in sleep. “Stop thinking…”

Alexia let out a strangled little laugh. “I no think.”

“Liar,” Delaney muttered, the word muddy with her Australian accent, and relaxed again.

Alexia lay very still. She had been told she was many things in her life - leader, winner, Queen, Capitana - but no one had ever known her so well they could call her out half-asleep.

Her fingers found the curve of Delaney’s ribs and traced small, mindless circles there. Under her palm, Delaney’s breathing stayed steady. The quiet inside her head grew stranger, less like a shock and more like… relief.

She thought of Jenni then - just for a second. The way she had stood in the hallway wearing Alexia’s old shirt. The flash of hurt in her eyes, the anger when she’d looked at Delaney. The sound of the door closing behind her. It should have haunted Alexia. Instead, the only thing she felt now was a firm, dull ache of certainty. She had chosen too.

She noticed the time and shifted carefully, propping herself up on one elbow to look properly at Delaney’s face. The Australian’s nose scrunched at the movement and Alexia had to bite back a smile.

“Danny,” she whispered. “Despierta.” Wake up.

A pause. Then: “No…” Delaney complained in English, without opening her eyes. “I’m comfy and safe. Leave me alone.”

Alexia’s heart gave a stupid little kick. Was she always this honest in the morning?

“Safe, huh?” She bent to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth - relishing the privilege of being able to now. “We having training.”

Delaney’s eyes opened a fraction. Confusion flickered, then memory. Alexia watched the exact moment it came back to her - the beach, the fight, the sex, the ‘I love you’s’, the way she’d fallen asleep tangled around her. A flush rose slowly into her cheeks.

“You have training, you mean,” she argued, sleep still clinging to her. “We,” Alexia amended gently. A small, drowsy smile curved on Delaney’s lips. “Mmn. Training together."

Alexia brushed hair off her forehead. “How jou feel?”

“Like I got hit by a truck shaped like you,” Delaney said, then winced as she shifted her hips. “Christ.”

Alexia tried not to look smug and failed instantly. “Lo siento.” I’m sorry.

“No, you’re not.”

“Maybe no,” she admitted.

Delaney’s gaze softened, studying her face like she was memorising something. Alexia fought the urge to look away under the weight of it.

“You slept,” Delaney said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

Alexia’s throat tightened. “Hmm.”

“Properly?”

She considered lying. The instinct to keep it small, to shrug off anything that made her feel vulnerable, was automatic. But the instinct to hide it crumbled beneath the simple truth that she didn’t want to keep walls up with Delaney ever again.

They weren’t doing that anymore.

“Sí,” she said, her voice low. “I sleep… muy bien.” Very well.

Delaney’s smile changed. It wasn’t big or dramatic; it just… deepened. Became something heavier.

“You drooled on me again,” she murmured.

Alexia’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes,” Delaney said. “On my nipple, actually. Very romantic.”

Alexia buried her face in her shoulder with a groan. “Hostia.”

Delaney laughed, the sound still husky with sleep. “I liked it.”

Her arms came around Alexia again, holding her there. For a few minutes, neither of them moved. They just lay there, tangled, breathing into each other’s skin. She felt it so easy to get lost in the Australian, the depth of it startling her; the realisation that she'd fallen harder than she ever intended. Alexia felt her own eyes growing heavy again, and forced herself not to let go completely.

Responsibility nudged at her consciousness - training, leadership, physios, media. The unavoidable reality that this… they… had to exist in that world, not just in this bedroom.

She exhaled and pressed a final kiss to the hollow of Delaney’s throat.

“Venga. We shower and coffee.”

Delaney made a pained noise. “But you're so comfy and soft in the morning."

Alexia chuckled and nudged her jaw, prompting movement.

"I have to move?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.”

Alexia smirked. “Later, nena.” Delaney’s groan echoed after her as she headed toward the bathroom.

The smell of coffee drifted through the kitchen as Delaney padded in, her hair damp, wrapped in a Barça training top a little too long in the sleeves.

Alexia’s gaze dropped, amused at the dishevelled state of her when she was still asleep. It was a new side to Delaney. “Danny… carinyo… this one is mine.”

Delaney blinked at herself. “Oh.”

Alexia was already behind her, lifting the shirt at the back. “I help.” Delaney twisted away, laughing. “Stop undressing me in the kitchen!”

She shoved her back to the stovetop and disappeared for half a minute, double-checking as she walked back out and stopped in the doorway. For half a second she just… watched. As if trying to reconcile the Alexia from the posters and interviews with this one - barefoot, hair in a messy bun, eyes still a little swollen from sleep, moving through the kitchen with a smile Delaney knew belonged to her.

“T’estimo aquesta vista,” I love this view. Delaney murmured under her breath.

Alexia’s head snapped up, her smile widening across her face. “Mira qui parla català ara.” Look who speaks Catalan now.

Delaney shrugged one shoulder, smug. “I pick things up.”

She crossed the room and slid in behind Alexia, arms wrapping around her waist, chin settling on her shoulder. Alexia let herself lean back into the warmth without thinking, one hand still steadying the moka pot on the stove.

“Bon dia,” Delaney murmured against her neck.

“Bon dia, nena.”

For a moment, they just stood there in their comfortable silence. Delaney’s fingers traced idle patterns over her stomach, brushing the hem of her shirt. Alexia could feel the ghost of every place those fingers had been last night. She wondered if the day would be better or worse after last night. Would she long for her more, or less?

“Are we…” Delaney started, then paused. “Is this… weird? For you?”

Alexia frowned slightly. “Qué?”

“This,” Delaney said. “Morning. Your house. Coffee. Training. Us.” She swallowed. “I don’t know what the word for it is.”

Girlfriends? Partners? Something else? The labels flickered through Alexia’s mind. She turned in Delaney’s arms, leaning back against the counter so she could see her properly.

“Whatever word jou want…”

“We are…” Delaney’s blue eyes searched hers. “Real.”

“Real,” she repeated. “Mmn.”

Alexia’s fingertips brushed the Barça logo at Delaney’s chest. “We no have to rush the word. I know what jou are to me.”

Delaney’s breath hitched. “And what’s that?”

Alexia met her gaze without flinching. “Todo.” Everything.

Delaney went very still. For a beat, Alexia wondered if she had said too much, too soon. The old reflex - pull back, soften it with a joke - rose up. Then Delaney’s hand lifted, cupping her cheek, and she leaned in to kiss her once, slow and sure.

“Todo,” she sighed against her lips, as if agreeing on the word. She flashed that happy Delaney smile that won everyone around her over. “Then I’ll try my hardest to not freak out every time something goes wrong.”

Alexia huffed a soft laugh. “We both freak out.”

“Yeah, but you hide it behind your scary captain face,” Delaney said. “I just… run.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and poured two small cups methodically.

“Jou no run last night,” she said quietly.

Delaney’s cheeks coloured faintly. “Because you didn’t let me.”

“Jou say paella.”

Delaney’s fingertips played with the hem of Alexia’s shirt again. “I took back paella.”

That, she did. The flood of memories made Alexia’s eyes roll back. She clenched her jaw as she handed her the cup.

“I no control jou, nena.”

“You controlled me last night.”

She shook her head. “I control us last night. Jou stay because it is what jou choose.”

Delaney stared at her, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“Then I guess I’m choosing again,” she said. “Staying… at least until after breakfast.”

“Y entrenando." And training. Alexia stated.

Delaney groaned dramatically. “Ah, sí, la Reina. Whatever you say.”

Their eyes held for a beat - a quiet yet serious agreement - before Delaney broke it with a small, crooked smile.

“Okay, Capitana,” she said. “Feed me. Then we can go to work and pretend we’re not ridiculously obsessed with each other.”

Alexia shot her a cocky eyebrow raise. “I yam no actress.”

Traffic on the way to the training ground was heavier than usual, the city properly awake now. Alexia drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh. Delaney’s fingers were laced through hers, thumb stroking absent-mindedly over her knuckles while she watched the buildings slide past. Neither of them had mentioned Jenni since waking. The name hung unspoken between them. Delaney was the one who finally broke.

“Is she okay?” she asked. “Jenni.”

Alexia kept her gaze on the road. “No,” she said honestly. “But no because of us. Because her decision.”

Delaney nodded slowly, jaw working. “She really just… showed up?”

“Sí.” Alexia exhaled. “She text many time after Florida. I no answer. She thinks she can… fix… with talk.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “But this is no just fight. She hurt jou. Intencionat.” Deliberately.

Silence. Alexia could practically feel the empathy radiating from her bones next to her.

“I don’t want to be the reason you lose her,” Delaney said quietly.

Alexia’s fingers tightened around hers. “Jou not.”

“But she looked…” Delaney shook her head, searching for the word. “Broken. When she left.”

Jenni hurt her in unforgivable ways, and yet she still cared about her. She always cared so deeply about others - something that Alexia resonated with.

“So was jou in Florida,” Alexia said. “When she push jou, when she make joke in the interview. Jou remember?” Her voice hardened. “She had choice. She choose wrong. Many time.”

Delaney flinched at the mention of the shoving, eyes flicking to the window.

Alexia pulled in a slow breath.

“I love Yenni,” she said, the words difficult but necessary. “Mucho. But no like this. No anymore. I no can trust her with my heart, and I no let anyone hurt jou. No more.” She glanced sideways, catching Delaney’s profile. “We have… historia larga. But this-” she squeezed their joined hands “-is my now.”

Delaney swallowed visibly. The insecurity was there - that familiar flicker of everyone leaves - but there was something else layered under it now. Belief, maybe. Or at least the start of it.

“Well,” she said, voice rough, “I suppose I’ll have to prove you right.”

Alexia’s mouth twitched. “Little bit, sí.”

Delaney laughed, half exasperated, half fond. “You’re impossible.”

“Mmn. Jou love.”

“I do,” Delaney said simply.

The words landed differently in the daylight. Alexia’s hand tightened around hers, her chest feeling too small.

The security guard at the training ground waved them through as always. Alexia parked in her usual spot. The second she turned off the engine, the bubble of privacy burst, replaced by the invisible eyes of staff, cameras, teammates. She let go of Delaney’s hand. It felt wrong. Necessary, but wrong. Delaney stared at her now empty hand, seemably feeling the same. Her fingers hovered in the space where Alexia’s had been for a second, then curled around the strap of her bag instead.

“Jou ready?” Alexia asked.

Delaney rolled her shoulders, the familiar pre-session focus settling over her features. “Readier than you.”

Alexia wanted to kiss her again right there, in the quiet of the car. Instead, she opened her door and climbed out, slipping back into the role that had been hers for so long it felt like a second skin.

Capitana. Professional. Controlled.

Inside the facility, everything smelled the same as it always did - detergent, cut grass, coffee, tape. As they walked side by side down the corridor, Alexia felt the eyes on them more keenly than usual.

‘Relax,’ she told herself. ‘You have nothing to hide from your familia.’

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that she was ashamed; it was that she wanted to protect this from being pulled apart, analysed, turned into a spectacle before it even had time to breathe.

In the locker room, the usual chaos was already underway. Mapi arguing with Claudia about who had stolen her slides. Vicky singing something off-key. Cata loudly complaining about the early start. Irene sat quietly at her locker, lacing her boots. When they entered, heads turned automatically. Habit. Curiosity.

Cata waggled her eyebrows. "¡Mira quién llega tarde por una vez, eh!" Look who’s late for once, huh!

The footballers shared a chuckle at their expense. Alexia rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the fucking grin from her face.

“Bon dia,” she said, ignoring them, Delaney echoing her words.

A chorus of greetings echoed back, more teasing ensuing. God, was it that obvious? Delaney drifted to her own space - the locker that had been bare yesterday now had a few small items perched on the shelf. A family photo. A pair of boots that weren’t fully broken in. A fresh kit with her name. Alexia’s gaze caught Mapi’s. The defender’s eyes flicked from Alexia’s face to Delaney, then back again. Her mouth curled into something smug and fond.

‘She knows.’

Of course she did. She and Irene had seen her crack open yesterday. Alexia gave her a look and turned back to her own locker, pulling her training top over her head.

“Dormiste?” Did you sleep? Irene’s voice came quietly at her side.

Alexia paused half-way through tying her hair.

“Sí,” she said, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Dormí.”

Irene’s eyes softened. A small smile took over her face, rare and proud. “Bien.”

Behind them, Delaney wrestled with the tape on her ankle, while Ona leaned on the locker beside her, talking low and easy. Every now and then Delaney laughed, the sound bright even over the clatter of the room. The usual teasing that would have followed - the flirt, the whistles, the comments - was conspicuously absent. Alexia knew it was courteous now, but it would appear amongst the group eventually. Their love language was teasing, and the though of that warmed her chest.

As they filed out toward the pitch, Mapi fell into step beside her.

“Entonces?” So?

Alexia didn’t look at her. “Entonces, ¿qué?” So what?

Mapi huffed. “No me tomes por tonta, tía.” Don’t take me for an idiot. “Estabas hecha polvo ayer y hoy pareces… tú, pero versión dormida.” You were wrecked yesterday and now you look… you, but slept version.

Alexia kept her eyes ahead. “Entrena, Mapi.” Train, Mapi.

Mapi’s shoulder bumped hers in a deliberately gentle way. “Estoy entrenando. Solo… también soy tu amiga. Y me alegro.” I am training. I’m also your friend. And I’m glad.

Alexia’s throat tightened. She sighed and let herself glance sideways, just for a second, offering a small, genuine smile.

“Gracias.”

“De nada, capi.”

On the pitch, the session started lightly. Warm-up, rondos, position-specific drills. The air was already heating, the sun low but promising. Delaney slotted into the patterns like she’d always been there. Her touch was clean, her movement measured - cautious at first, protecting her ankle, then slowly freer as the physios relaxed. Each time she received the ball, someone called her name - “¡Bien, Baker!” from Kika, “¡Eso es, Dellie!” from Ona. This time, Alexia’s focus on her felt less like obsession and more like pride.

Still, old habits were hard to kill. She heard Mapi’s earlier words in her head. ‘If you keep looking like that, they’re going to take a picture of you.’

She tried to channel it into something else - into mentoring for new players, extra patience with the younger kids, but she couldn’t kid herself. Delaney wasn’t young, nor new, she was the best in the world, and that much had been obvious from how quickly she’d slotted into the way Barça trained. When Delaney mis-timed a press and winced, Ona immediately dropped back to cover her. Alexia realised then just how protective the girls were already of her, the thought both easing and tightening something in her chest.

They began their shooting drills, each player taking a shot on goal against Cata who was so far unbeatable. Delaney struck a beautiful curve towards the right... and Cata blocked. She was impossible to get a ball past in this mood, and everyone knew it. She celebrated like she'd just won the World Cup. Delaney chuckled, unfazed and jogged over near the goal to watch with the other's Cata had beaten.

"¡Estás que lo rompes hoy, tía!" You’re killing it today, girl! Claudia cheered along with the team.

Alexia stepped up and Cata grinned, hopping from side to side, already trying to influence her.

“¡Capitana!” she said. “Esta noche, cena, ¿no? Para celebrar que Baker ha sobrevivido al primer día.” Tonight, dinner, no? To celebrate that Baker survived the first day.

“Ayer ya celebramos, Cata.” We already celebrated yesterday, Cata.

A few nearby players snickered. Delaney, hearing her name, raised an eyebrow. Their eyes met across the cones. The look was nothing. Just a tiny, knowing smile. It felt like everything.

"¿Tú hablas de yo otra vez, Cata?" You talk about me again, Cata? Delaney challenged, her accent prominent.

"Is because I love you." She grinned.

"Didn't love me so much when I scored past you, hm?"

A wave of “oooh” and “oof!” broke out around them, teammates loving every second. Alexia watched the exchange, amused.

Cata clicked her tongue. “Gol de suerte.” Lucky goal. "¡Hoy no pasa nadie! Come on Capi!” Today, nobody gets through!

As Cata turned back towards a lined up Alexia, Delaney landed on her back, hands covering her eyes. Cata scrambled to free herself as Delaney yelled out to Alexia. "Stop laughing and shoot, woman!"

Alexia slipped a nutmeg between Cata’s legs, and in the scramble that followed, Cata and Delaney went down wrestling. Their teammates sprinted over, laughing, piling on to tease Cata.

“¡GOOOOL!” they screamed. “¡Necesitamos otra portera!” We need a new goalkeeper! Vicky teased, slapping the beloved goalkeeper on the ass.

Cata threw her hands up in mock outrage, still half-pinned to the grass, while Delaney just grinned over her shoulder. Cata shoved her off, breathless with laughter.

“¡Eso fue trampa, joder!” That was cheating, fuck! She protested.

Alexia wagged a finger at her, smug. “Juegue." Play on.

“Ustedes dos son insoportables juntas. Hacer cualquier cosa para ganar.” You two are unbearable together. Doing anything to win.

Alexia offered her a hand up. “Suerte que estás en nuestro equipo, ¿eh?” Lucky you’re on our team, eh?

As the shooting drill continued, Alexia wandered over to the water station and Ona offered her a fresh bottle without comment.

“Gràcies,” Alexia said in Catalan, taking it.

Ona’s gaze slid sideways, following Delaney’s progress as she stretched out her quad. “Li costa confiar.” It’s hard for her to trust. She said quietly, out of the blue.

Ona was always well-intentioned, and so Alexia never took what she said as anything but empathy and a willingness to help any situation, especially relationships.

“Ho sé.” Alexia replied, equally quiet.

“Aquest tipus de por… també la vaig veure en la Lucy, una miqueta. Només es cura amb temps i amb algú que no marxi.” This kind of fear… I saw it in Lucy too, just a little. It only heals with time, and with someone who doesn’t leave.

Alexia drank as she watched the Australian, the water cold against her dry throat. “No me’n penso anar.” I’m not going anywhere.

Ona put a hand on her arm and smiled faintly. "“Sí, ja ho noto. Us va molt bé juntes, i me’n alegro molt.” Yes, I can tell. You two are doing really well together, and I’m really happy for you.

“Això significa molt, Ona.” That means a lot, Ona.

The young defender stepped back and smiled, her long dimples on show.

"Let me know if you need any help with English." She teased, jogging off before Alexia could reply.

By the end of the session, sweat soaked the collar of Alexia’s shirt. Her muscles hummed with the good kind of fatigue, taking over the soreness from the night before. She lingered on the grass for a second longer than usual during the final stretch, breathing in the familiar smell of the pitch.

When she finally made it back to the locker room, the atmosphere was buzzing. Someone had put music on. Jana was dancing badly in the middle of the room. Vicky was filming it for Instagram, no doubt. Delaney sat on the bench, one sock on, one off, laughing at something Cata had said. There was a lightness in her face, different from London, different from Lisbon. She was fitting in.

She turned toward her locker, peeling her shirt off, ready for the shower. Her phone buzzed on the bench beside her. A message from an unknown number, but one she recognised anyway.

Jenni: Lo siento por ayer. No quería hacer daño. Cuando estés lista para hablar, aquí estoy. I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.

She stared at it for a long moment. In another life - another version of herself - she might have tried to soothe, to fix, to carry guilt that wasn’t only hers. Now, she thought of the interview. Of Florida. Of Delaney on the grass, head bleeding, hiding a black eye as she waded through the airport back to London. Of last night, Delaney whispering ‘thank you for not letting me run’ into her chest.

She typed slowly.

Alexia: Ahora no. Necesito tiempo. No puedo hablar de esto mientras sigas sin entender lo que hiciste. Not now. I need time. I can’t talk about this while you still don’t understand what you did.

She hesitated, then added:

No vengas más a mi casa sin avisar. Don’t come to my house unannounced again.

She sent it.

The message thread sat there, two blue lines on the screen. No reply yet. No little typing bubble. She locked the phone and put it face down.

Steam fogged the showers; laughter echoed off the tiles. Alexia kept her eyes mostly on the wall this time, giving herself a break from the distraction that was Delaney naked under running water a few metres away. A few sideways glances were enough. The marks were obvious - bold, high on her neck, jaw, collarbone - impossible to mistake for anything else. Alexia bit back a smirk. If the girls noticed, there’d be hell - teasing, questions - but a selfish part of her almost wanted them to see.

By the time she came back into the locker room, hair twisted up in a towel, the girls were half dressed, voices bouncing between plans for the afternoon - coffee? Beach? Nap? Cata still seemed insistent about dinner.

Delaney sat on the bench by her locker, already in clean clothes, fingers busy with her phone for a second before she slipped it away. Her bag - the one she’d packed at Mariona’s apartment - sat at her feet. Teddy’s worn ear poked out the top.

Alexia finished dressing, slid her feet into trainers, and stood. For a second she just watched the room. Her familia. Irene and Marta speaking quietly. Aitana arguing with Kika about some tactical nonsense. Jana trying (and failing) to steal one of Salma’s snacks.

Yesterday, Irene had kissed her forehead and told her: ‘You don’t have to hide it, Alexia. It’s okay to let it show here.’

She inhaled, feeling the weight and comfort of that. Then she moved. She crossed the room toward Delaney, ignoring the curious flicks of attention that followed her. Delaney looked up as she approached, blue eyes instantly softer, questioning. Alexia stopped right in front of her.

“Vamos a casa.” Let’s go home. She said, tone soft but threaded with that unmistakable Alexia authority.

Delaney blinked.

Before Delaney could speak, Alexia bent and lifted her bag, slipping the strap over her own shoulder in one smooth, possessive movement. That action alone drew three sets of eyes. Kika paused mid-sentence. Claudia’s eyebrows shot up. And Cata - of course Cata - grinned like she’d just been handed front-row tickets to drama.

“Jour bag is already pack,” Alexia continued, completely unbothered by the audience. She patted the bag. “Teddy too.”

Delaney’s mouth tugged into a slow smile. “That’s very manipulative of you, Capitana.”

“¿Manipulativa yo?” Manipulative? Me? Alexia let her lips twitch, feigning innocence as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “I like to have everything I need there.”

Mapi, walking past, simply hummed under her breath. “Claro que sí.” Of course you do.

Alexia ignored her but rolled her eyes. An amused smirk flickered across Delaney’s face. Her shoulders eased, the last of the doubt melting away as she let herself nod to Alexia.

Cata muttered to Patri, just loud enough: “Madre mía… esto es mejor que Netflix.” My God… this is better than Netflix. The locker room noise rose in chuckles for a heartbeat, then dipped again. No one commented. No one needed to.

Alexia took one small step back, enough to give them space, and then, deliberately lifted her hand and held it out toward Delaney.

Not hidden behind car windows. Not under a table. Not behind a door.

Here. In front of everyone.

Delaney looked at her hand, then at her face. Something flickered in her eyes - that old instinct to run, the panic that said this is too much, too visible - and then it passed. Slowly, with a care that made Alexia’s chest ache, she reached out and threaded her fingers through Alexia’s. Her grip was warm. Steady.

Cata went theatrically quiet for a second, then smirked to herself and went back to tying her laces. Vicky’s gaze darted over, bright with nosy curiosity, but Irene shot her a look that made her swallow any comment. Familia. Protecting. Accepting. Already adjusting around them.

She caught Delaney by her ankles, dragging her to the edge of the bed. There was nothing hesitant or soft about the action, which she loved. She was too used to being the empathetic, patient figure in relationships. Every once in a while, she just wanted to be jerked around and held down. Alexia pulled her legs apart, exposing her rather ungracefully and spit from a height to lube her cunt. She slid the tip of the dildo through where her mouth had just been for the past thirty minutes, gathering excitement and then testing the sizing by pressing the tip into her.

“Okay, nena?”

After so long silent, Delaney flinched at her voice. “Sí, Ale…”

Alexia was clearly letting frustrations out, but she wasn’t far enough gone to be brutal with her. Just rough. So, she eased in, stretching Delaney bit by bit until her body was ready enough to take the entirety of the thick strap she’d chosen, before she began rocking her hips into her. Delaney had nothing to grip onto but Alexia’s wrists which were dug into her hips, pulling her with each thrust. Delaney whimpered through it, especially when she heard Alexia start to become vocal. Vocal to the point of whimpering herself, her true emotions coming to light in something close to sobs as she thrust. Sweat ran from her temple, that artery throbbing in her neck as she fucked her. Her abs were more visible than usual, her biceps pulled tight with exertion, and though her hair was damp at the roots, it still framed her face in that gentle, impossible sweep Delaney could never stop staring at. When she saw the first tear fall down her cheek, Delaney gripped her wrists tighter, about to tell her to stop when she spoke.

“Necessito que em triïs.” I need you to choose me.

It came out as a plea, almost as a beg. Alexia’s insecurity on full show. Delaney began to sit up but the Spaniard avoided her eyes, pulling the dripping dildo out and dropping to her knees, her mouth on her again, hot and heavy. Delaney was stuck between utter heartbreak and absolute pleasure, Alexia’s mouth expressing her love for her in the way she sucked her clit, her nails biting into her outer thighs. Delaney let out another guttural groan from deep within. Is this what it was like to be worshipped?

“A… Ale… what are you s…aying?”

Alexia didn’t answer, and Delaney knew she wasn't ready to be pushed just yet. The Spaniard would talk when she was ready, and the only thing she seemed to be focussed on in that moment was frustrating Delaney, yet again.

Just as she came close for what seemed to be the tenth time, Alexia pulled away and grabbed her around the waist, manhandling Delaney up the bed further. She knelt between her legs, muttering in Catalan words Delaney didn’t understand as she sunk back into her again. The responding groan Delaney gave was not an intentional one. Alexia was a mess above her, but by God, she was gorgeous. She strangled the sheets for dear life on either side of Delaney’s head, her hips thrusting deep as she fucked her into the mattress. Delaney could only spread her legs further and attempt to meet her movements, her hands clung desperately to her waist.

“Argh… fuck.. yes.. yes! Fuck! A… Ale… talk to me… we should stop.”

Alexia’s grunted and began fucking her harder in response – something Delaney didn’t even know was possible. She was almost embarrassed by the sounds of her body sucking and squeaking with every slap of her hips. She could feel Alexia riding the little waves of vibrations from the small vibrator as it pressed on her clit, her body beginning to tremble madly.

“I need jou… joder… to choose me, Danny.” She sounded so passionate, so vulnerable, her voice breaking, her throat catching through it. “Meet me… in the middle...” She leant closer, their chests grazing, her cheek now pressed against Delaney’s. “I know jou are scared, nena. I…” Delaney’s nails scraped down her back, her hips now colliding against Alexia’s in what was a perfect angle for the Spaniard. Alexia cried out in strangled, unashamed desperation. "¡Hostia, puta... sí!" Fucking hell, yes!

Delaney gripped her soft hair pulled her head back. She wanted to look her in the eyes and see her falling apart. “Tell me.” She demanded.

Alexia groaned. “Tan a prop… tan a prop…” So close… so close…

“Finish what you’re saying, Ale or I swear to god I’ll stop this right now.”

There’s something ethereal about looking someone in the eye as you’re both fucking so hard, so desperately, knowing that it’s all for each other. The strain evident in her muscles, the passion in her voice, the emotion behind her eyes. Sweat beaded her forehead, her hair beginning to curl in places. She grabbed the Spaniard by the throat, as if to force the words from her.

“Choose me.” Her voice broke - her golden hazel eyes pleading.

It was in that moment that Delaney realised Alexia’s insecurity was just as deep-rooted as hers. How had she been so blind? All this time. There was something poetic about it, about the way Alexia confessed to her while Delaney gripped onto her neck as she was thrust up the bed.

“I choose you...” she whispered. “I…”

Alexia pushed harder, deeper. She began to cry in strangled sobs as she repeated words she’d said before. “I yam no perfect… pero I follow jou anywhere.” One of Alexia’s hands touched her cheek softly, a tear hitting Delaney’s cheek. “Choose me… choose us…”

“Ale…”

Delaney swiftly flipped the pair, Alexia landing hard on her back, about to argue when she sunk back onto her. The Spaniard had done enough - she wanted to be the one to finish her off. She found a position that made Alexia’s eyes roll to the back of her head and stayed there, rolling her hips deep and pushing the vibrator just right against her.

“No paris, per l’amor de Déu!”Don’t stop, for the love of God!

“No pararé… perquè t’estimo.” I won’t stop… because I love you. She could feel that familiar tingle race up her spine, her toes beginning to numb as she reached the edge. They were really doing this. They were choosing each other. Looking down at Alexia, she realised she had been on the edge for a while, and had somehow been managing to hold out for her.

“I sempre et triaré, Alexia.” And I will always choose you, Alexia.

They scrambled to find each other’s hands as they came, fingers tangling as their pornographic cries took hold of them. They called each other’s name, they rode their waves together, right up until their hips stuttered out, and Delaney was yet again a ragged mess, though this time, sagged on top of the Spaniard, panting as her body spasmed its way down to little twitches.

She managed to help shuffle the strap from Alexia’s hips and throw it to the floor to give her body some reprieved, and they both took time to recover and come to terms with what just occurred.

“I’m sorry Ale,” she whispered. Alexia’s head turned tiredly and she felt her lips touch her sweaty forehead.

“For what, nena?”

“For not realising sooner that you are… just as scared as I am.”

“We learn together, sí?”

“Always.”

“Mmn.”

Delaney readjusted herself next to her, at Alexia’s level, and studied her. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, her thumb catching another tear that had slipped down unnoticed. “You’re still shaking,” she murmured.

“Lo sé,” Alexia said softly. “I never uh… cum… so hard before.”

Delaney smiled faintly, pressing her forehead against hers. “Me either. Especially that big twice. It’s like you were trying to prove a point.”

Alexia’s chest stuttered as she chuckled under her breath. “I want to take more but…” Her voice faded off softly. Delaney knew Alexia would have well and truly made her cum many more times if it wasn’t about something more important. She nodded gently, stroking her cheek, touching the beauty mark under her eye.

“You know, I never took you for the strap-on type.”

“No?” Alexia replied, genuinely curious, a cheeky smile appearing.

“No, you always seemed like the no-toys type. The scissoring and oral kind of Barcelona gal.”

“I like this too.”

“But you chose to use that tonight…”

“Jou no like…?”

“Oh, you know well and truly that I liked it.” She stroked patterns over her skin, eyes following where her fingers explored. Alexia shivered. “It just felt a bit different. Like a claiming of sorts.”

The Spaniard thought for a moment, her fingertips lighting up skin wherever they explored.

“Jou are right.”

She hadn’t expected that. She lifted her eyes again and found Alexia staring at the ceiling as she thought deeply.

“I liked it.” Delaney admitted.

Alexia smiled at the roof. “I know jou did, nena. I feel jour body.”

“My body would have cum a few more times if you’d let it.”

She rolled her eyes at Alexia’s proud grin as the Spaniard’s head lulled against her own.

For a while, they said nothing. Just breathed together.

Delaney’s hand drifted up, fingers tracing idle patterns along Alexia’s arm. “You really framed my kit,” she whispered.

“Claro.”

“Why?”

Alexia’s voice came soft, sleepy. “Because I want something of jou here before jou were ready to come.”

Delaney’s throat tightened again. “That’s… terrifyingly romantic.”

“I yam no until I meet you.”

Of course not. Anything too romantic would make Alexia have to open far too much. She tended to close off just like Delaney, yet not to that extreme. Just her vulnerabilities. The same ones she’d let the Australian see for the first time.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of everything unsaid - trust, gratitude, exhaustion, the quiet understanding now of each other’s insecurities.

They lay tangled together, skin against skin, Alexia’s arm curved around her waist, her breath warm against Delaney’s hair. The rhythm of it lulled her - the steady in-and-out, the small shifts as Alexia’s fingers traced invisible patterns against her hip. She began to stutter and pause every so often, Delaney knowing she was falling asleep gradually.

For once, Delaney didn’t think about what would happen tomorrow. Or about Mexico. Or the beach. She thought only of the quiet, the warmth, the weight of Alexia’s body pressed gently against hers, and the feeling of being completely, finally safe.

Delaney shifted closer until her forehead rested against Alexia’s collarbone. “Ale?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not letting me run.”

Alexia’s hand tightened slightly on her hip. “Nunca más, nena.” Never again.

Delaney smiled against her skin - eyes finally heavy. “Goodnight, Ale.”

“Buenas noches, Danny.”

ALEXIA

Alexia had never been held. It only occurred to her in that moment that no one had ever offered it to her in relationships. She knew how she presented herself: stoic, strong, tough, but had none of her partners really looked beneath it? Had any of them understood what it cost her to seem so untouchable? In her thirty-one years, only Delaney had cared to look beyond the layers of composure she’d built over time and seen the small, aching version of her that still needed to be held.

She let herself curl into her, their bodies moulding together, and pressed her cheek softly against Delaney’s. She felt the warmth of her bare thighs brushing against hers - their bodies breathing in tandem. The steady, grounding heartbeat in her chest.

Delaney didn’t speak again. She just wrapped her arms around her, one hand on Alexia’s back, the other cradling her head with the kind of care that had first drawn her to the Australian. Like she was holding something sacred. Something breakable.

She ran her fingers through her hair and Alexia’s eyes fluttered closed, her own arms encircling the Australian and holding her closer.

Here, in this quiet dark, there was no pressure. No cameras or fans or teammates asking her to be strong. No promises to keep. No trophies to chase.

Just Delaney. Steady. Close. Realer than anything else.

She pulled back an inch - just enough to look at her and affirm she was, in fact, real. Delaney’s eyes fluttered open sleepily at the shift. And when their eyes met, something passed between them. Delaney nodded to Alexia’s wordless question. Leaning forward ever so slightly, she kissed her.

It was soft - barely there. A brush of lips, sealing their night.

Delaney breathed out slowly against her mouth and kissed her back just once - gentle and sleepy and sure - before pulling her close again and pressing Alexia’s head against her own, their bodies so entangled she didn’t know who was who.

Alexia watched Delaney’s outline in the dim light - the soft curve of her cheek, her little twitches as her body fought off sleep and lost. She looked… peaceful. Not struggling to fall, nor wide awake like Alexia usually was. Just peaceful. And somehow, that made Alexia feel something deeper than anything else could have, because she knew what it meant to her. Alexia’s breathing deepened and her body softened into Delaney’s. She was in Barcelona. For her.

A peaceful smile found its way to her lips before she even realised, a calm settling in her chest.

And just like that, Alexia slept.