#luchessi

Luis Enrique was visibly in a rage, red all over, his dark curls more ruffled than before, and his fists were clenched. The man’s lips were tight together, his chest was rising up and down quickly, and his eyes were dark and dangerous.

“They are a tough team.” Lucho eventually said after a pregnant pause. He made eye contact with Iniesta first and moved on to look at into the eyes of a different player one by one as he continued to speak. “But we’re tougher. It doesn’t matter how much they try to pull us down, we always get up and fight back harder.”

Wneh Lucho’s eyes find Lio’s, Lio almost reeled backward. The mister’s eyes, though angry, had somehow gotten more dangerous, but there was a softness to them as well, one that wasn’t there before. He shifted in his seat, waited for the coach to move his gaze to a different person.

 “You got another forty-five minutes in those legs of yours?” the mister asked gruffly. Something peculiar flashed through the man’s eyes, but Lio couldn’t quite place what it was.

Lio nodded. He could feel the eyes of his teammates all on him, but the eyes that pushed him the hardest, that seemed to go straight into him were the eyes of his coach.

“Wouldn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me down again.” Lio said confidently.

Well, let me start that he was no longer a m*dridista when he came to coach barca. He fell in love with Catalonia, Barcelona, lives there, played in Barca, coached the b team, etc.  But I love what you gave me so I’ll work off of those as best as I can. WHO ARE YOU ANON. YOU LIKE MY HEADCANON/FIC THINGS UGH <3- Neither men apologized to the other after the training spat. Neither had to apologize to the other. What happened was a misunderstanding, a mistake, something of the past that was blown out of proportion by the media. They could have let their egos clash harder, let their respective personalities fight over power in the locker room, but they didn’t.    Lucho knew that Messi was his number one player. He knew that he had to concede at some points to him because if Messi is happy than the whole club, city is happy.      Lio knew that Lucho was the boss, the mister, the coach, and he brought with him exciting new ideas, new tactics, new fire to drive them to glory. He knew if the team were to have success, they needed to be united under one man and that was Lucho.- Lucho didn’t mind praising people. He knew how to see talent and how to appreciate it. It was just he wasn’t one to fall over and freak out over something, feeling like fish out of water, like a witness to a miracle. But when he sees Lio play and train it feels like he’s just seen heaven itself. He doesn’t hide his praise from the younger man. Always in soft Spanish, always with a fire-like glint in his eye, he gives out a one sentence worth of praise to Lio. - One time Lio bought Lucho a bottle of Austurian wine. It was sometime before the mister’s birthday. Training had yet to begin, Lucho was in his office looking over possible rosters of the next opposing team when Lio walked in, a soft smile on his lips, eyes kind and watchful. He didn’t say a word. He just placed the bottle on the desk and sat down expectantly.        They shared a glass. Lio only had a sip of it, but his smile was wide and when he saw Lucho drink the rest of the red wine and smile back, he said, “Happy birthday, Mister. Let’s bring you another title.” - Lio still gets miffed every now and then when Lucho doesn’t call a foul during training. He yells at his coach about it or even walks up to him to argue a call. But it never erupts into something that could cause rift between them. Why? Lucho always responds sassily, eyes alight with mischief, and Lio can’t help but laugh at it.