We need a plan

We need a plan - part two

El Clasico.
The most attended game in the whole Liga season. The day of the apocalypse where the two most valuable teams of the whole world face each other's.

Everything can happen during a Clasico.

Everything can happen in a Clasico, even Ronaldo and Messi getting along pretty well.

- Come on, let me help you - said Cristiano extending a hand to Leo who was laying on the pitch abruptly shoved by Sergio.

The blonde man gave the Portuguese a suspicious look before tentatively taking his hand.

- Thanks - mumbled than Messi finally back on his feet trotting back to his position confusion still written on his face.
That was strange, but he had no time to think about it. Focus.

Sergio was a little surprised, but that was Cris we are talking about. So he shook his shoulders not giving it any more care.

Barça was leading 1-0, Messi has scored at the 27'. Real was starting to loose his cool blood.

Yellow cards started falling like rain: Sergio got one, Pepe and Piquè too.

The second time the whole Camp Nou stopped was when Vasquez shoot down Leo giving Barça a free kick. Barcellona fans were screaming out of themselves for joy, still the Argentinian was on the ground, hands on his knees.

Cris could have bet to have seen blank pain in the younger eyes.

Everyone stopped, even Sergio who was complaining about the choice of the referee about the free kick.

Lionel Messi asked for medications.

Shit.

Time passed, Lucas started panicked, it wasn't his intention to hurt Leo.

Cris squatted in front of Leo taking his injured knee in his hands. The situation seemed bad enough.

- can you move it? - asked the Madrid striker looking the Argentinian in the eyes.

- not really, it hurts like a bitch - groaned Messi in pain trying not to scream when Cris touched a spot near his tattoos.

The Portuguese apologized mentally cursing the paramedics, still long from entering the pitch.
Leo was now laying again on the grass, teammates of both clubs all around.

- I think it is bad -

- Really?! Don't tell me... - Cris rolled his eyes leaving space to the paramedics who have finally entered the pitch.

- Maybe there is something with your ligaments - said the number seven of Real helping Leo on his feet for the second time that night (only after the medics applied ice on the man knee end asked to take him to the bench in order to give him better cares).

Was something surreal looking at the top striker of Real Madrid helping Lionel Messi out of the pitch, arm strong around the shorter waist and Leo's arm around his neck. 

- No hard feelings for Lucas, tell him - said the Argentinian before Cris left him sat on Barça bench in the hand of the paramedics still concerned about the situation though.

- what was that? - Benzema asked Sergio pointing at Ronaldo with his chin.

- stop asking me what is running through his mind! - answered the captain raising the arms to the sky.

- what the hell?! -

- I don't know but he seems to have good intentions - shrugged Piquè referring to Cris' behavior.

After that moment of panic mixed with shock, Neymar took the free kick and suddenly it was 2-0 for Barça.

The ref blows thee times ending the first half of the game.

Cristiano ran like a lightning out of the pitch, straight to the Barça lockers looking for the little striker. He knew that he couldn't have played a good second time without knowing how Leo was doing.
Fuck his teammates who were probably talking about the way he was acting.

Cris stopped in the doorway, the number ten of Barça was laying on a bench, eyes closed with a arm on them. His entire left leg was tied in a brace, it looked painful. He was shirtless, the blaugrana's fabric under his head in a failed attempt of pillow.

- stop laying there looking at me like a creep, you can come in, we blaugranas do not bite - softly laughed Messi raising up a little.

- verdict? - asked Cris once he has entered the room and taken place near the injured player.

- Ligaments, like you have guessed - sighed the younger man passing a hand through his already messed up hairs.

- Told yah - laughed the madridista looking away from Leo's eyes.

- Where is the rest of the squad? - asked then Cris a bit confused about the quiet that was surrounding the locker room.

- They are in the main locker room, you know the one in front of yours, with the big Barça flag and pictures all over the walls? - started to explain Leo but caught off in the middle because of a stab of pain as he tried to lift his knee.

- okok I got it, thank God I didn't remember the right way or else I wouldn't have found you - said quickly CR handing the culè a pack of ice that was nearby.

- So, why are you here? - genuinely curious asked Leo looking over Cris.

- Just want to make sure about your condition - shrugged the Portuguese laying with back against the wall.

- And to check out the possibility to win the Clasico if the best on the pitch is out - added Cris regretting almost immediately what he's said.

In fact Leo's face turned sad, feeling guilty not to be able to head his team to the victory.

- Shit, I'm sorry, I really just wanted to check on you -

- Thank you Cris then - mumbled the Argentinian half lost in his thoughts. A tense silence settles between them, like each of them have wanted to said something but none did.

- I think you're better get going. The second half is about to start - said Leo almost scaring Cris who was fell used to the silence.

- Yeah... yeah I need to hurry up - agreed the blanco patting Leo's shoulder before leaving the looker room.

None of them noticed a presence, also known as Luis Enrique, half hidden by the door who happened to listen the entire conversation.

"This is kinda strange" mumbled between himself the Barça coach before turning on his heels and made it back onto the pitch.
"Mental memo: ask Zidane about this" just to make sure that was not some trick to get in Messi's mind to find something with destroy him.

The Clasico ended, 2-1 for Barcelona. The Camp Nou in madness, Barça fans crying for happiness, Real Madrid ones pissed off.

But the mind of two well known players away from the match...