#barcelona fluff

Nothing too urgent, one of those routine calls that more often than not turned out to be a faulty alarm or someone leaving a toaster plugged in. Still, duty was duty, and you were strapped into the truck alongside your team, listening to the sirens wail as the city streets blurred past.

By the time you arrived, the scene was already buzzing. Staff members in polo shirts hovered nervously near the gates of the Joan Gamper training grounds. That made you raise an eyebrow. The FC Barcelona crest was everywhere; on the signage, on the doors, even on the merchandise someone had clearly left lying on a bench.

Your captain gave the order, and you hopped out, helmet under your arm as you approached one of the staffers.

“Small kitchen fire,” the man explained quickly, gesturing toward the facility’s cafeteria building. “It’s under control, but protocol says we call you.”

“Good call,” you nodded, slipping on your helmet. “Let’s make sure it’s really out.”

As you and your crew moved inside, you could feel eyes on you. The reason became clear almost immediately, half the Barça Femení squad was gathered in the courtyard, cooling down from training. They were still in their gear, laughing and chattering in a dozen different directions, but their gazes flicked toward the firefighters like moths to a flame.

And one gaze in particular lingered.

You didn’t notice at first, you were too focused on checking the scorched remains of a countertop appliance, but eventually, the prickle of awareness made you turn your head slightly.

Across the courtyard, Alexia Putellas, captain of FC Barcelona and arguably one of the most recognisable athletes in Spain, was staring directly at you.

The moment your eyes met hers, however, she snapped her gaze away so quickly you thought she might have given herself whiplash.

You almost laughed. Almost. But you had a job to do, so you let it slide.

The fire was indeed minor, just a fryer overheating. After confirming everything was safe, you and your team packed up. That should’ve been the end of it. Except, when you stepped back outside into the sun, you caught her staring again.

This time, it was even more blatant. Alexia stood a little apart from her teammates, water bottle dangling loosely from her fingers, her expression unreadable but her eyes locked firmly on you. Until, of course, you looked back. Then, snap, she turned away again, pretending to listen intently to Mapi León, who was rambling about something with a mischievous grin.

“Everything under control?” a staffer asked you.

“Yeah,” you said, voice casual, though you were very aware of the weight of certain eyes on you. “You’re all safe now.”

You should’ve left it at that. Professional. Efficient. But curiosity tugged at you, and you allowed yourself the smallest glance over your shoulder.

Sure enough, Alexia was looking again.

And when she realised, you’d caught her, her ears went pink.

Your team started packing up the truck, but as you tightened the straps on a hose, you heard laughter from the players’ side. Not just laughter, teasing laughter, the kind that comes with a good-natured roast.

“Alexiaaa,” Mapi’s voice carried across the courtyard. “Why are you standing there like a statue, eh? Say something to the bombera before she leaves!”

You froze, suppressing a smile. Oh, this was getting good.

Another voice, Patri’s you thought, chimed in, “You’ve been staring since she arrived! Poor girl’s going to think you’re a creep.”

“I have not,” Alexia muttered, but her defensive tone only made her teammates howl harder.

You risked another glance. Sure enough, Alexia’s face was now an interesting shade of red. She ran a hand through her hair, clearly flustered, while her teammates poked and prodded at her shoulders like siblings who’d just discovered the best new way to annoy their sister.

You bit back a grin. The great Alexia Putellas, captain of one of the best football clubs in the world, undone not by a defender or a referee, but by her teammates’ teasing and, apparently, your presence.

Adorable.

As you climbed into the truck, you made sure your voice carried just enough across the courtyard.

“Stay safe out here,” you said, a playful lilt in your tone.

Her teammates erupted into fresh giggles. Alexia, caught mid-sip of water, nearly choked.

You shut the truck door, hiding your grin as the engine roared to life. But as you pulled away from the training ground, one thought lingered in your mind:

You’d definitely caught her staring.

And you weren’t about to forget it.

The cafeteria fire was forgotten within a day. For the players, anyway.

For Alexia, it was not.

Her teammates hadn’t stopped teasing her since the moment the fire truck rolled away. Mapi, especially, took her new mission in life very seriously: to torment Alexia about the bombera guapa until she cracked.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Mapi laughed in the locker room the next morning, towel slung over her shoulder. “Blushing like a schoolgirl. I didn’t know our captain could get shy.”

“I wasn’t shy,” Alexia muttered, shoving her training kit into her bag with a bit more force than necessary. “And I wasn’t blushing.”

Patri raised an eyebrow from across the room. “You looked like a tomato, tía. If that wasn’t blushing, then I don’t know what it was.”

The younger players snickered. Even Cata, usually so quiet, was grinning as she tied her shoes.

Alexia ran a hand down her face. They’ll forget. Give it a few days, and they’ll drop it. That’s what she told herself. She was wrong.

Two days later, training wrapped up under a blazing sun. Everyone was exhausted, sprawled across the grass like discarded dolls. Alexia sat upright, sipping water and trying not to let her mind drift to the memory of a firefighter’s confident stride and easy smile.

But her teammates didn’t give her the chance.

“Imagine,” Mapi said, grinning wickedly, “if the fire department had to come back here again. Maybe a small accident… like, oh, I don’t know, someone ‘accidentally’ setting a cone on fire?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Patri added with a laugh. “At this point, I’d do it just to watch Alexia lose her cool again.”

“I do not lose my cool,” Alexia snapped, though the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her.

Aitana, lounging nearby, smirked. “You’re the calmest player I’ve ever met on the pitch. But one firefighter smiles at you, and suddenly you forget how to breathe.”

That set everyone off again, laughter rolling across the training ground. Alexia threw her bottle cap at Aitana, who only dodged and laughed harder.

The teasing might’ve stung if it weren’t… well, true.

Alexia had always prided herself on composure. On keeping her head in pressure situations. She could block out entire stadiums of chanting fans, focus only on the ball at her feet.

But the second you’d turned those steady eyes on her, calm and assured beneath the weight of your helmet, her stomach had flipped. And when you caught her staring, and smirked just the tiniest bit, her pulse had tripped over itself like a rookie midfielder.

It was ridiculous. She didn’t even know you.

And yet, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her mind.

Meanwhile, across the city, you weren’t nearly as oblivious as Alexia thought.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in Barcelona did. But watching the most composed footballer in the country get flustered over something as simple as a glance? That had been a treat.

You hadn’t told your own crew about it. They’d never let you hear the end of it. But when you lay in bed that night, you found yourself grinning at the memory of her pink ears and her teammates’ relentless teasing.

“Captain Putellas,” you murmured to yourself with amusement. “You’re adorable.”

It didn’t take long for fate, or perhaps Mapi’s scheming, to bring you back together.

The fire department was invited to give a short safety demonstration at the training ground. A PR move, probably. Good for community outreach. Your captain volunteered your team, and before you knew it, you were back at the Joan Gamper facilities, pulling up in your truck.

You barely had time to climb down before you heard it:

“Look who it is!” Patri’s voice, gleeful. “The bombera!”

The players were already gathered on the grass, waiting. Some waved at you like you were old friends. Others whispered to each other behind hands, clearly entertained.

And there she was. Alexia.

Standing with arms folded, trying so hard to look nonchalant. Too hard.

The moment your eyes met hers, she glanced away. Again.

But this time, you smiled. Wide and deliberate.

And if her ears went pink all over again, well. You weren’t about to complain.

“Alright, everyone, gather round.”

Your captain’s voice carried easily across the grass, drawing the Barça women’s team closer. They were already buzzing, though not about fire safety. You could feel their eyes darting between you and Alexia like kids waiting for a punchline.

You stepped forward, helmet tucked under your arm, and cleared your throat. “We’ll keep this quick. Just some basics, what to do if there’s smoke, how to use an extinguisher, and how to avoid setting your kitchen on fire again.”

That earned a round of laughter. Even Alexia cracked a smile, though she ducked her head quickly, pretending to tie her shoelace.

“Who wants to volunteer first?” you asked, gesturing to the fire extinguisher your crew had set up.

Immediately, Patri shoved Alexia forward. “Our captain! She loves being a role model.”

Alexia stumbled a step, glaring over her shoulder at Patri, but it was too late. Twenty expectant eyes were already on her.

“Uh…” Alexia’s voice faltered. She glanced at you, then back at the extinguisher, then at you again. Her usual confidence, the calm authority she carried on the pitch, was nowhere to be found.

You hid a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s easy. Come here.”

Her steps were hesitant as she moved to stand beside you. She was taller up close, broad-shouldered but graceful, though at the moment she looked like she’d rather disappear into the turf.

“First,” you said, holding up the extinguisher nozzle, “you pull this pin.” You demonstrated, then handed it to her.

She reached out, fingers brushing yours briefly, and you swore you felt the tiniest jolt run through her. Her hand jerked back like she’d touched a live wire, and she nearly dropped the extinguisher.

The team howled with laughter.

“Smooth, capitana!” Mapi crowed. “You handle footballs better than fire equipment.”

“Shut up,” Alexia muttered, ears blazing red as she finally managed to tug the pin free.

You leaned in slightly, voice gentler now. “Good. Now, squeeze here, and aim low at the fire.”

She nodded quickly, determined, gripping the handle with exaggerated care. When the foam burst out, she flinched, nearly stumbling backward. You steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

“There you go,” you said, and couldn’t resist adding softly, “Not so scary, right?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, brief, but enough. Enough for you to catch the spark of nervous energy behind them. Then she looked away again, jaw tight, like even eye contact might undo her completely.

By the end of the demo, half the team had taken turns spraying foam at the target. Some took it seriously. Most did not. Mapi pretended to duel with Aitana, who shrieked and ducked behind Cata. Patri gave a dramatic speech about being a hero before immediately misfiring and hitting her own shoe.

But through it all, you kept catching glimpses of Alexia at the edge of the group. Watching. Fidgeting with her water bottle. Every time your eyes found hers, she looked away just a second too late.

And every time, her teammates noticed.

“Why don’t you thank the nice firefighter, Alexia?” Aitana teased as the demo wrapped up. “You’ve been staring the whole time.”

“I have not,” Alexia shot back, voice sharp with embarrassment.

“Sí, you have,” Patri said, grinning ear to ear. “We all saw it.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, but her ears gave her away again, pink as ever.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. Not cruelly, not mockingly, just warmly, genuinely. And when her gaze flicked to you, startled, you gave her the smallest nod.

It was as if you were saying: Don’t worry. I see you. And it’s okay.

She blinked, then looked down at the grass, but this time… this time you swore you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward.

Later, as you packed up the equipment, you heard voices drifting from behind the players’ bench.

“You’ve got to talk to her,” Mapi insisted.

“No.” Alexia’s voice was low, firm.

“Why not?”

“She’s… busy. A professional. And I…” A pause. “…I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

Too late for that, you thought, amused.

Still, something in her tone softened your smile. For all her composure on the pitch, she really was shy, wasn’t she? Clumsy, even, when it came to something that wasn’t football.

Adorable, indeed.

As you climbed into the truck again, you glanced back one last time.

Alexia was standing with her teammates, arms crossed like she was annoyed at them, but when she thought no one was looking, her eyes slid your way once more.

This time, you let her have the moment. You pretended not to notice.

But oh, you noticed.

You didn’t expect to see her again so soon.

It was a quiet Saturday morning, one of the rare days you weren’t on shift. You’d thrown on a hoodie and jeans, hair pulled back, and wandered down to your favourite café for coffee and a croissant.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside.

And there she was.

Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona, standing at the counter in a simple white tee and sweatpants, hair scraped into a messy bun. She had sunglasses perched on her head like she’d tried to disguise herself, but the moment you spotted her, you knew.

She hadn’t seen you yet. She was staring at the pastry case like it held the answers to life itself, card in hand, frowning ever so slightly.

You considered slipping past quietly. But then the barista called out, “Y/N! Hola!” with a grin, and Alexia’s head snapped up.

Her eyes widened when they landed on you.

And just like that… pink ears.

You smiled, making your way to the counter. “Hey,” you said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world to run into her here.

“Hola,” Alexia murmured, voice soft, almost uncertain.

You ordered your drink, then turned slightly toward her. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

She shrugged, shifting her weight. “I come sometimes. When… I have a free morning.” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, fiddling with her card like it might save her.

You bit back a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t blow your cover. Captain Putellas deserves her coffee in peace.”

At that, she let out a tiny laugh, barely more than a breath, but it was there. She looked at you again, and for once she didn’t glance away immediately. Her eyes were warm, cautious, but curious too.

Then the barista slid her drink across the counter. “Café con leche, for Alexia.”

She froze.

The way her name hung in the air, unmistakable, made her shoulders tense. A couple of heads turned. You caught it instantly, the flicker of unease, the instinct to retreat.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, lowering your voice. “Relax. It’s fine. No one’s going to bother you.”

Her gaze snapped to yours again, startled. Then softened.

For a moment, you stood there, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in a busy café.

And then, because fate clearly had a sense of humor, Alexia reached for her coffee, misjudged the angle, and knocked the lid clean off. Half the drink sloshed onto the counter.

“¡Mierda!” she cursed under her breath, scrambling for napkins.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. Not meanly, just light, warm, a little teasing. “Careful, Captain. You’re dangerous with fire extinguishers and coffee.”

Her cheeks went scarlet. “I…I don’t usually…” She trailed off, clearly mortified, and you reached over to grab napkins, helping mop up the spill.

“Don’t worry,” you said gently, bumping her hand lightly with yours as you cleaned. “I won’t report you to the coffee police.”

That earned you another laugh, this one real. She shook her head, finally smiling.

By some unspoken agreement, you both ended up sitting at the same corner table, coffees in hand.

The conversation started simple, safe. Training schedules, how exhausting firefighting shifts could be, the weather. But little by little, Alexia relaxed.

You noticed the way she spoke with her hands, tapping the table when she got passionate about something. You noticed how she’d meet your gaze in bursts, brave for a moment, then shy again, glancing down with a faint smile tugging at her lips.

And you noticed, very clearly, how adorable she was when she tried to act casual but fumbled instead. Like when she gestured too widely and nearly tipped her cup again. Or when she forgot the word she wanted in English and huffed in frustration before switching back to Spanish.

Every clumsy little moment just made her more endearing.

“So,” you said eventually, leaning back in your chair. “Do your teammates always tease you that much, or was that just special treatment for me?”

Her eyes widened. Then narrowed in mock betrayal. “You heard them.”

“Hard not to.” You grinned. “They seem to think you were staring.”

“I wasn’t-” she started, then stopped, realising she’d trapped herself. Her blush returned full force. “…I mean…I was just-”

You let her flounder for a beat, enjoying the sight of the unflappable captain completely undone. Then you softened, tilting your head.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mind.”

Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly. And for the first time since you’d met her, she didn’t look away.

Neither of you noticed the time slipping by until the café started filling with the late-morning crowd.

Alexia glanced at her phone and sighed. “I should go. Team lunch.”

You nodded, hiding your disappointment. “Duty calls.”

She stood, hesitating for a moment, then said, “Maybe… we’ll see each other again?” Her tone was tentative, like she wasn’t sure if she should ask.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

Her ears went pink again, but this time, she smiled back as you exchanged numbers.

The next day at training, Alexia knew she was in trouble the moment she walked into the locker room.

Mapi and Patri were huddled together in the corner, whispering like they were plotting world domination. Aitana was scrolling on her phone with a grin far too smug for this early in the morning. Even Cata, normally so quiet, had the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Alexia barely got her bag down before Mapi pounced.

“So,” Mapi drawled, “how was coffee?”

Alexia froze. “What?”

“Coffee,” Patri echoed sweetly. “With our favorite bombera.”

“I don’t-” Alexia started, but Aitana cut her off, waving her phone like a sword.

“Funny thing about Barcelona,” she said. “Small city. Lots of people around. Lots of phones. Lots of Instagram stories.”

She turned the screen toward Alexia. And there it was: a blurry photo from some random café-goer, captioned ‘Didn’t expect to see Alexia Putellas having coffee this morning 👀☕️’.

Alexia’s stomach dropped.

In the corner of the photo, just barely visible, was you, smiling across the table at her.

“¡Joder!” she groaned, dragging a hand over her face.

The locker room erupted into chaos.

“You sat with her?!” Patri gasped, clutching her chest in mock drama.

“You had a date?” Mapi demanded, practically vibrating with excitement.

“It was not a date,” Alexia muttered, ears already turning pink.

“Oh, it was definitely a date,” Aitana said firmly. “Look at your face! You’re smiling like a lovesick teenager.”

“I smile all the time,” Alexia protested weakly.

“Not like that,” Patri sing-songed.

Even Cata chimed in, voice soft but teasing: “You spilled your coffee, didn’t you?”

Alexia’s head snapped up. “How do you know that?!”

“Because you’re clumsy around hot people,” Cata said simply, and the room dissolved into laughter again.

By the time training started, Alexia was wishing for the ground to swallow her whole. But her teammates weren’t done.

During rondos, every time the ball got near her, someone muttered, “Careful, don’t spill it!”

During sprints, Mapi jogged past her with a wicked grin. “Better hurry, or your firefighter’s going to leave without you.”

Even their coach, gave her a puzzled look when the laughter refused to die down. “What is going on?”

“Nothing!” Alexia snapped, glaring at the team. Which, of course, only made them laugh harder.

Meanwhile, you had no idea what storm you’d inadvertently unleashed.

After your coffee with Alexia, you’d gone back to the station, in a good mood that your colleagues immediately noticed.

“You’re smiling,” one of them teased. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“Shut up,” you said, but you were smiling even wider.

Still, you had no idea that Alexia’s teammates were turning her life into a comedy show over it.

That evening, Alexia was sprawled on her couch, scrolling through her phone when a message popped up in the team group chat.

Mapi: 🔥🚒 Patri: Capitana, when’s the wedding? Aitana: At least invite us to the proposal, okay?

Alexia groaned, tossing her phone onto the couch cushion.

But then, against her better judgment, she picked it up again. Opened your contact. Stared at it.

She hadn’t texted you since coffee. She wanted to. She really wanted to. But every time she typed something, she deleted it again.

Finally, she forced herself to write:

Had a good time the other day. Thanks for keeping my coffee disaster a secret 😉

She hovered over the send button, heart racing. Then, with a deep breath, she pressed it.

Seconds later, the little “delivered” checkmark appeared.

And then three dots.

Her heart nearly stopped.

Alexia stared at the three dots like they might explode. They blinked on. Then off. Then on again.

She chewed her lip, heart hammering. Maybe she doesn’t want to answer. Maybe she’s busy. Maybe…

Then your reply popped up.

Anytime, Capitana. Though I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone panic so much over a latte 😏

Her face went hot. She groaned out loud, burying her face in her pillow. Of course you’d tease her. Of course.

Before she could overthink it, another message came through:

But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Firefighter’s honor.

Alexia exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders. A smile crept across her face before she could stop it. She typed back:

Glad to know I can trust you. Even if you laugh at me.

The reply came almost instantly:

Only a little. It was pretty cute, to be fair.

Cute. You’d called her cute.

Alexia dropped her phone again, groaning into the pillow. She was the captain of FC Barcelona, twice a Ballon d’Or winner, admired all over the world, and here she was, reduced to a flustered teenager because a firefighter thought she was cute.

At the station, you chuckled softly as you put your phone down. You could practically imagine her expression, wide-eyed, embarrassed, ears pink.

She had no idea how transparent she was.

And you had no intention of rushing her. Watching the great Alexia Putellas stumble and blush her way through this was far too endearing.

Over the next few days, the texting continued. Short messages at first, cautious and tentative. Then longer ones.

She asked about your shifts, and you asked about her training. You told her funny stories about kitchen mishaps at the firehouse; she admitted she couldn’t cook much beyond pasta. You teased her mercilessly about that, and she pretended to be offended.

The more you talked, the more her shyness peeked through in the sweetest ways. She’d type something bold, then immediately follow it with, That sounded stupid, forget I said that. You always reassured her.

And slowly, the guarded captain seemed to relax.

One evening, after a particularly long day for you, she texted first.

Rough shift?

You smiled tiredly at the screen.

Yeah. Nothing too bad, but long. Could use about twelve hours of sleep.

There was a pause. Then:

Wish I could bring you coffee. Without spilling it this time.

You laughed out loud, shaking your head. She was trying. Clumsy, but trying.

Careful, Capitana. That almost sounded like you want to see me again.

A long pause. No three dots. You worried you’d pushed too far, until finally:

I do.

Just that. Simple. Bare. Honest.

Your chest warmed.

Then let’s make it happen. You’re in charge of picking the place though. I don’t want to be blamed if you trip over a table or something 😉

Her response took longer this time. You pictured her pacing her apartment, fingers hovering over the keyboard, overthinking every word.

Finally:

Deal. Just… don’t expect me to be smooth about it.

You grinned.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Back in her apartment, Alexia set her phone down with trembling hands. She couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed. She couldn’t believe you’d actually said yes.

And she couldn’t believe how giddy she felt, like she’d just scored the winning goal at Camp Nou.

Of course, she knew one thing for certain: she could never let her teammates find out.

Which meant, inevitably, they would.

Alexia tried to keep her cool the next few days. Really, she did.

She went to training, focused on drills, kept her answers short when her teammates pried. But every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped, and she had to bite back a smile.

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.

“Who are you texting, capitana?” Aitana asked innocently one morning, jogging beside her to get some water during warm-ups.

“No one,” Alexia said quickly, slipping her phone back into her bag.

“Mmhm.” Aitana smirked. “That’s why you’re smiling like that?”

“I’m not smiling.”

“Yes, you are.”

Before Alexia could retort, Mapi jogged past, sing-songing, “Probably the firefighterrrr.”

Alexia groaned, covering her face with her hands. She should’ve known keeping a secret from this team was impossible.

That evening, she finally mustered the courage to text you.

So… I was thinking. Do you like Italian food?

You replied almost instantly.

Love it. Why?

Alexia stared at the screen for a full minute before typing:

There’s a place I like. Quiet. Not fancy. Maybe… dinner?

Your grin practically hurt your cheeks. Sounds perfect.

Just promise not to spill your pasta on me.

Her reply came after a long pause.

No promises.

You laughed, shaking your head. The way she leaned into her own awkwardness now, it was charming, really.

Two days later, at training, Alexia’s phone buzzed in her locker. She grabbed it quickly, shielding the screen from curious eyes.

But not quickly enough.

Patri’s sharp gaze caught the little notification banner. “Dinner Friday?” she read aloud.

Alexia froze. “¡Patri!”

The room went silent. Then erupted.

“Dinner?!” Mapi gasped, clutching her chest. “With HER?!”

Alexia’s ears turned crimson. “Mind your own business.”

“Oh no,” Aitana said gleefully. “This is our business. Our captain is going on a date!”

“It’s not a date,” Alexia muttered, shoving her phone deep into her bag.

“Uh-huh,” Patri said, smirking. “Then what is it?”

“Just… dinner.”

“Dinner,” Mapi repeated dramatically. “At a restaurant. With the firefighter who makes you blush every five seconds.” She clasped her hands together. “Sounds exactly like not a date.”

The locker room roared with laughter again.

Later, Alexia slumped in her car, forehead against the steering wheel.

She was doomed. Absolutely doomed.

If her teammates knew she had dinner plans, they would never, ever let her live it down. They’d probably follow her to the restaurant just to spy.

And yet… she couldn’t bring herself to cancel.

Because the thought of seeing you again, just the two of you, no foam, no teammates, no teasing, made her chest feel light in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

So, despite her nerves, she texted you again:

Friday, 8 pm. I’ll pick you up?

The reply came quickly.

Looking forward to it.

Alexia exhaled, letting her head drop back against the seat.

She was in trouble. But maybe, just maybe, it was the good kind.

Friday night arrived faster than either of you expected.

You stood outside your apartment building, dressed simply, nothing over the top, just something that felt comfortable but nice. When Alexia’s car pulled up, you almost laughed out loud.

It wasn’t the sleek sports car you might have expected from a Ballon d’Or winner. No, Alexia showed up in a practical little hatchback, spotless but utterly unassuming.

When she got out, though, jeans, a fitted blazer over a plain shirt, hair down and loose, she nearly made your heart skip.

“Hi,” she said, voice a touch breathless.

“Hi yourself,” you teased lightly. “You clean up well, Capitana.”

Her ears turned pink immediately. “You look… good. I mean…really good. Beautiful.” The last word slipped out before she could stop it, and her eyes went wide like she wanted to reel it back in.

You smiled, saving her from drowning in embarrassment. “Thank you. Shall we?”

The restaurant she picked was perfect; quiet, tucked away, cozy. Wooden tables, soft lighting, the hum of low conversation around you.

Alexia held the door open for you, almost tripping on the threshold in her rush.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Careful. I thought we agreed you weren’t going to spill anything tonight.”

“I haven’t spilled yet,” she muttered, but her blush deepened.

Seated across from you, menu in hand, she looked simultaneously like the composed captain of Barcelona and the shyest woman alive. She kept tucking her hair behind her ear, then fidgeting with the silverware, then pretending to study the wine list as if it held state secrets.

“Relax,” you said gently, leaning on your hand. “It’s just dinner.”

Her eyes flicked up to yours, warm but nervous. “Yeah. Just… dinner.”

Of course, the universe had other plans.

The bread basket arrived first. Alexia reached for it, hand brushing yours again, and in her haste she knocked her water glass straight into her lap.

She shot up, cursing softly, grabbing napkins to dab at her jeans. “Mierda.”

You laughed, sliding your own napkin across the table. “You really are determined to spill something every time we’re together, aren’t you?”

Her face flamed as she took the napkin. “I swear I’m not usually like this.”

“I don’t know,” you teased. “Kind of feels like your thing now.”

Despite her embarrassment, a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Glad I can make an impression.”

“You definitely have,” you said, softer this time.

That made her pause. Her eyes lifted, meeting yours across the table. She hesitated before she looked away.

Dinner went on, punctuated by more little mishaps, her fork clattering to the floor, her sleeve brushing a candle and nearly catching (you swooped in and pinched it out before it even smoked, which earned you a round of applause from the amused waiter).

Every time, she grew more flustered. But every time, you teased her lightly, gently, never cruel. And each time, she smiled more easily, the tension easing from her shoulders.

You talked, too. Really talked. About childhood, about the weight of responsibility, her as a captain, you as a firefighter. About the strange balance of being admired in public but still feeling ordinary in private.

At some point, dessert arrived, and you both realised you’d been sitting there for nearly three hours.

Alexia leaned back, sipping the last of her wine, finally relaxed. “This was… nice.”

“Even with all the accidents?” you teased.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me.”

You reached across the table, gently tugging her hands down. “Hey. I liked it. All of it. Even the disasters.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not.”

For a long moment, you held her gaze. The restaurant buzzed around you, but it felt quiet, intimate, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

And then she cleared her throat, looking away quickly, cheeks blazing. “I should, um… get you home.”

You smiled, leaning back. “Okay, Capitana. But only if you promise not to spill me out of the car on the way.”

Her laugh, genuine, unguarded, was the perfect end to the night.

As she dropped you off, you lingered at the curb, hands in your pockets. She hesitated, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, clearly torn between wanting to say more and not knowing how.

So you leaned down slightly, peeking in through the open window. “You know, Alexia,” you said softly, “for someone so clumsy, you’re doing pretty well.”

Her lips curved into a shy smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then you stepped back, giving her a little wave as she drove off, leaving her grinning like she’d just won another trophy.

Alexia should’ve known she wasn’t going to get away with it.

For one glorious day, she thought she had. She’d gone to dinner with you, dropped you home, spent the night grinning into her pillow like an idiot. At training the next morning, she walked in convinced she could keep it quiet.

And then she spotted Patri and Mapi whispering with matching evil grins.

No. No, no, no.

“Good morning, capitana,” Patri sang as Alexia walked past. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Alexia narrowed her eyes. “Like normal.”

“Oh, normal,” Mapi said, tapping her chin. “Is that what we call ‘smiling at your phone until midnight’?”

Alexia froze. “How do you…”

Aitana popped up beside her, phone in hand. “Because Barcelona is a very small city, and restaurants have windows.”

On the screen was a blurry photo; Alexia, leaning forward at a little Italian place, laughing across the table. At you.

Her blood ran cold.

“Who took that?!” she demanded.

“Does it matter?” Mapi teased. “Look at your face!”

The photo wasn’t flattering. Her head was tilted, hair falling into her eyes, smile so wide it crinkled her nose. She looked nothing like the composed, stoic captain the media always painted her as. She looked… happy.

“Delete it,” Alexia muttered, shoving her bag into her locker.

“Too late,” Patri said. “Already in the group chat.”

Alexia groaned, dropping her forehead against the cool metal of the locker.

The teasing that day was merciless.

During warm-ups: “Don’t trip, Alexia, you might spill spaghetti!”

During passing drills: “Careful, don’t drop the ball like you dropped your fork!”

Even the coaches were raising their eyebrows, though wisely they didn’t ask.

By the time training ended, Alexia was ready to crawl under the turf and stay there forever.

Meanwhile, you were at the fire station, blissfully unaware. Until your phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number:

Hi Y/N. This is Patri. Don’t ask how I got your number. Just wanted to say thanks for finally making our captain act like a human being instead of a robot ❤️

You stared at the screen, then laughed so hard your crewmates gave you strange looks.

A second later, another text came through:

PS. If she pretends she didn’t spill water all over herself, don’t believe her.

You grinned, shaking your head. Poor Alexia.

That evening, Alexia texted you, clearly frazzled.

My teammates know.

Of course they do.

They won’t stop teasing me.

Of course they won’t.

This is a nightmare.

No, this is adorable.

There was a long pause. Then:

Adorable?

You smiled.

Yeah. I like that they know. Means I’m not imagining this.

Another pause. Then, slower this time:

You’re not imagining it.

You leaned back against your pillow, warmth spreading through your chest.

For all her clumsiness, her blushes, her overthinking, she was trying. Really trying.

And you were more than happy to let her stumble her way closer.

If Alexia thought the teasing would die down, she was sorely mistaken.

For a week straight, every little slip during training became a reference to you. She overhit a pass? “Thinking about the firefighter again?” She slipped during sprints? “She’s sweeping you off your feet, capitana!”

By Friday, she was this 🤏🏽 close to losing it.

But then something happened. Something small, but important.

She realized she didn’t care as much anymore.

Yes, her teammates were relentless. Yes, she blushed every five minutes. But every time her phone buzzed with your name, every time you teased her gently or asked how her day was, it outweighed all of it.

So when the team planned a casual dinner out, she did something she never thought she’d do.

She invited you.

It took her three tries to actually type it.

The team is going out for dinner Saturday. You could come, if you want.

Delete.

Saturday, some of us are going to eat after training. It might be fun if you joined.

Delete.

Finally, she sent:

The team is getting dinner Saturday. I’d like you to be there. Only if you want.

She nearly dropped her phone after pressing send.

Your reply came minutes later:

So I get to meet the infamous teammates who won’t stop teasing you?

Alexia groaned out loud.

Yes. But only if you promise not to join them.

No promises 😉

Saturday came. You showed up to the restaurant in casual clothes, hair a little wind-tossed from the evening breeze. You expected to feel nervous. After all, you were about to walk into a room full of Barcelona stars who had apparently turned teasing Alexia into a full-time job.

But the moment you stepped inside, a chorus of greetings hit you.

“La bombera!” Mapi crowed, standing up and spreading her arms. “Finally! We’ve been waiting for you!”

You laughed, letting her pull you into a dramatic hug before you even reached the table. Alexia, sitting nearby, was pink already, glaring at Mapi over your shoulder.

“Don’t scare her,” Alexia muttered.

“Oh please,” Mapi said, flopping back into her seat. “She runs into burning buildings. I think she can handle us.”

Patri leaned across the table with a grin. “Welcome. You know, you’re basically a legend already. We’ve heard so many stories.”

You arched a brow, sliding into the chair next to Alexia. “All flattering, I hope.”

“Depends who you ask,” Aitana said slyly, sipping her drink. “According to Alexia, you’re terrifying.”

“I never said that!” Alexia protested, nearly knocking over her water glass in her haste.

The table erupted in laughter. You nudged her knee under the table, leaning close to murmur, “Relax, Capitana. They like me already.”

Her blush deepened, but her lips twitched upward despite herself.

Dinner was chaos. The team was loud, lively, and absolutely merciless toward their captain. Every story turned into a chance to drag her. Every joke circled back to you somehow.

“Alexia’s the most composed player on the pitch,” Patri said dramatically, waving her fork. “But then you show up, and suddenly she’s dropping forks and spilling coffee.”

“Don’t forget the fire extinguisher,” Mapi added. “She almost took out half the team trying to impress you.”

You grinned, resting your chin in your hand as you watched Alexia cover her face with both hands. “Honestly,” you said, “I find it kind of adorable.”

The table erupted again.

Alexia peeked at you through her fingers, mortified; and maybe, just maybe, a little pleased.

By the time dessert arrived, you’d laughed until your cheeks hurt.

And Alexia, though flustered, red-eared, and endlessly teased, looked lighter than you’d ever seen her. She was still shy, still clumsy (she nearly dropped her spoon into the flan), but she was smiling. Really smiling.

At one point, when the noise around you swelled, she leaned closer, voice soft so only you could hear.

“Thanks for coming.”

You tilted your head. “Sure you don’t regret inviting me into the lion’s den?”

Her smile was small but certain. “Not even a little.”