Warnings: Profanity!! Swearing!! Kinda sad!!
Word Count: 7.4k (fun fact! if you've read the whole story, that's 27 pages of reading!)
A/N: The highly anticipated continuation to my ramblings. Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this series (because apparently that's a thing people do?) Also, can you tell I'm a huge Bad Omens fan?
"Wait, you're from San Sebastián? Like the cake?"
"If I had known you were this funny I wouldn't have ordered a soda. It keeps coming out of my nose."
You smiled widely at Martin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You sat across from him in a restaurant by the beach, the dim yellow light complimenting the fading sun that cascaded through the windows. Salt hung in the air, filling your lungs with a feeling of relaxation. You rarely ever let first dates pick you up, let alone drive you an hour outside of Barcelona. But Martin had made you feel safe.
He had pulled up outside of your building, top down on the blue Mercedes he drove. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, allowing him to drink in your sight and let out a low whistle as you approached the car. Your beach dress swayed around you, hugging different parts of your body as you moved. Your hair was pulled away from your face, with the wind shifting a few strands. Martin jumped out of the vehicle at the sight of you, opening the door for you and helping with your bag. The car ride there had been a tad awkward, with both of you nervous to come across too strong or two excited. So he handed you AUX and got a feel for you through your taste in music (which was erratic and all over the place). He let you play whatever you want. Well, almost: when 'Like a Villain' by Bad Omens came on, he changed the song himself, stating that he "could not stand scream music".
You had both loosened up by the time you got to the beach. You set up on the sand and Martin unbuttoned his shirt, glancing up to make sure you were watching him expose his chest inch by inch. You decided to be just as bold, lifting your dress over your head without turning around. Upon rummaging through your belongings, you decided none of your swimsuits gave off the desired impression, which was "I was meant to be a rich football WAG please wife me now". The natural next step was to ask Angelika for one, and she did not disappoint. It was a light pink medium-slutty bikini, sitting ever so prettily on your chest and on the curve of your hips. You laid across the towel on your side, finally able to engross yourself in the conversation with Martin. Once you two started, it was almost impossible for you to stop talking. You were so enamored by this man, who was interesting and funny and good looking and successful and interested in you.
You had spent hours at the beach, walking along the water, swimming in the shallows, and just laying in the warm sand, all while maintaining a great conversation. He was genuine in all his questions about your interests and your life. As you put your dress back on, Martin stared at you. He licked his lips as you let your hair down, shaking it to get any excess sand out. He asked if you didn't mind keeping the night going by having dinner with him, which is how you ended up at a pretty tiny seafood place by the sea. The other three occupied tables in the restaurant also hosted couples, so you felt at ease sitting across from Martin and asking about his home town.
"Okay but I love San Sebastián cake! It's like cheesecake but better and doesn't make me feel like I have butter lining my veins."
Martin laughed shyly and rolled his eyes. He looked at you softly, in a way that few men had. Most guys looked at you with a hardness in their eyes: you were a challenge to defeat, a mountain to climb, a conquest to complete. You were the impossible woman and you were to be treated as such. But Martin? He looked at you with a delicate that made you feel like you were made of glass. He looked at you the way Disney characters looked at the princesses: like something special that needed to be cherished. You rested your hand on the table, and he brought his hand to drape over yours, making you feel like a high schooler with their first crush. It was sweet and delicate and everything a girl wanted in a romance. You looked up at Martin and saw what you had been searching for all this time: potential.
You woke up Monday morning feeling the best you had in weeks. The previous day, you received an email saying you passed your field medicine exam with a 93%, shortly followed by a few texts from Martin saying how much he enjoyed the date and how he couldn't wait to see you again. It felt like everything in your life was falling into place: you were on your way to becoming a successful sports physiotherapist, and you had a hot football player who was sending you "good morning" texts before his 8am training.
You practically skipped into work, coffee in one hand, handbag swinging in the other. You stood in the hall outside your office and stared at your phone, smiling like an idiot at the messages from Martin. A hand came down and grasped your shoulder, scaring you out of your trance.
"Good morning doctora. You didn't answer my texts."
And just like that, your mood was ruined by Pablo, Barca's little storm could of misery. He had sent you several messages over your time off, all of which you had decided not to open:
[Gavi]: Good luck on your exam Doctora.
[Gavi]: Frenkie ripped his knee open today during training. It was nasty as fuck. You would have thought it was cool.
[Gavi]: Sevilla is so fucking cold I can't stand it.
[Gavi]: Did you see the injuries during today's match? You're going to be busy on Monday.
[Gavi]: Say hi to Martin for me and the boys
[Gavi]: Tomorrow morning I need you to remove my back and give me a new one
"Yes Gavi, because I was busy," you breathed out as you opened your office door. Gavi walked in behind you, taking your coffee and bag from your hands to place them in their usual spots. "I gave you my personal number for emergencies. If you keep texting me status updates about your life, I will demote you back to email only. Why is your shirt off?"
"Because you're gonna work on my back, which you would know if you read my messages. Besides, don't lie, you love my little updates."
You pulled your hair up, grabbing clean gloves and some muscle warming lotion as you approached a shirtless Gavi, who had laid himself across your table. Despite not opening them, you had to admit that the messages made a feeling of warmth spread through your chest. Someone on the team was thinking about you, and he had remembered the things you were interested in. You could just barely admit this to yourself, but you would never say it out loud to Gavi. God forbid he ever found out that you enjoyed his presence.
"No one likes them, given that you send them to me rather than your friends."
From his position on his stomach, he looked over his shoulder at you.
"Are we not friends, y/n?"
"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."
"I don't hate you. I think."
The statement made your cheeks heat up slightly for reasons unknown to you. Instead of focusing on this, you squeezed some of the gel onto Gavi's lower back, an area that consistently gave him trouble. It was odd to hear that Gavi considered the two of you friends. Hell, it was weird to hear that he didn't hate you. Despite him treating you more politely, he never gave you the impression that he enjoyed your presence outside of the fact that you repaired his aching body. Well, that, and the fact that he was sending you daily updates about the team, most of which were not related to work at all. You spread the gel around the area, giving it a moment to heat up before you started working the muscle.
"So how did your exam go?" Gavi asked, laying on his folded hands. It was 7:40am, and he was susceptible to falling asleep unless he maintained a conversation. He also needed something to focus on besides the feeling of your hands on him. There was that damn feeling again: the ache in his chest, the goosebumps on his arms, the feeling like he wanted to run out the room and off the roof. He had no clue what is was about you that made him feel like he was on the verge of exploding. He would deny it if anyone asked, but he felt himself start to get hard every time you put your hands on him. Maybe Pedri was right and he was severely touch starved.
"It went amazing. I was a little scared about the technical test, because I can't really lift more than 60 kilos, so if we had to use the spine board it might have been a problem. But it was a stomach injury, so it was pretty easy. Passed with a 93%."
Your hands moved around Gavi's lower back, and he was letting out sharp breaths of pain.
"Muscle tension?"
"No actually. Your gloves... you know what it's fine I'll live keep going."
"No no. Gavi I don't want to hurt you. Tell me what's the issue."
"Well.. Your gloves are getting caught on the hair of my lower back, and you're pulling on it. I don't really know what you can do about that but that's what hurts."
You looked down at your gloved, realizing the mix of latex and gel had ripped a couple hairs out of Gavi.
"I can go wash my hands and do this without gloves. I'll be right back."
Before Gavi could protest to your bare hands massaging him, you had thrown your gloves away and let the room, washing your hands across the hall and returning. You repositioned yourself to lean over Gavi and began working the muscles in his lower back, your hands digging into his skin. Gavi was now, for the second time in two weeks, seething with anger in your office, because he was about to get hard in front of you from the most platonic touches. He didn't want you to think he was a teenage slave to his hormones. He wanted to show that he was cool and in control (even if in reality he was falling apart under your fingers).
"So how was the beach?" He asked. He knew he shouldn't. He knew you two weren't close enough for him to be asking. Gavi didn't even want to hear the answer - you looked like you were so happy, and the thought of you being happy with another man made him sick. He told himself it was because a boyfriend would make you less available for the team, but the reasoning was weak at best. But he knew the disappointment of hearing about your date would make him flaccid and riled up for training, so he let his lips utter the question that had bothered him for days.
"The beach? Or my date?" You asked, pressing harder into his lower back. The thought of Martin brought you warm sunshine feelings normally, but when Gavi asked, it made you feel nervous - embarrassed. Like you had done something wrong or shameful.
"Either. Both. Did you have a good time?"
You took a deep breath, allowing the memories of Saturday to fill your lungs.
"Honestly, it was great, Gavi, the best date I've been on in so long. The beach was gorgeous, and he seemed to really like me, which is more than I can say about the other guys I've been out with."
He clutched the plush bed tighter, arm veins becoming more pronounced.
"Have you been on dates with a lot of guys here?"
You paused your motions. Usually, you would respond with a sarcastic remark, asserting your dominance and your ability to date whoever you wanted. But Gavi's eyes showed that he wasn't being judgmental like the previous week - he was genuinely curious.
"Yeah like a dozen since I moved back. They've all sucked. Like majorly - they think I'm dumb and looking for a sugar daddy, or they just want to have sex. Or both actually. But Martin was so sweet to me. Every other date I've been on, the guy tried to kiss me or squeeze my thighs. The most physical thing Martin did was hold my hand."
In your dreamy recount of your date, you had lost track of what you were doing with your hands. The medical muscle treatment had shifted towards a much more intimate massage, with your hands lingering slightly too long on sections of Gavi's lower back. This was not helping his tenting issue, and neither was the mental image you were painting. He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on stopping the blood flow to his dick, but instead he pictured you in a swimsuit holding someone's hand. Holding his hand. His eyes shot open and he pushed him up, startling you in the process.
"Sorry, I don't know why I did that." He said, leaning back down and letting you keep working.
"I know I probably shouldn't be giving you this much information about my personal life, but you're not gonna tell on me, are you Gavi?" You asked, winking at him. Why would you do that? Did you hate him? Were you purposely trying to get him hard?
"Of course not, doctora. It's nice to hear you talk about something else besides how shit my muscles are." You continued rambling about your date and about Martin while Gavi listened intently, erection now fully gone, much to his satisfaction. You listed off all the good things you experienced that day, from the feel of the sand to the taste of your drink. As you finished up, Gavi had his eyebrows scrunched together (more than usual).
"You look like you want to say something, so just say it."
"Do you like him?"
The question caught you off guard (much like everything else Gavi had done that day) as you moved to get some paper towels to wipe the gel off Gavi's back.
"He's a great guy and he likes me a lot, so I think I would like to see where things go."
Gavi held out his hand, preferring to wipe himself down. He had just recovered from your touch, and was not eager to have another exchange like that again. He looked at you critically with one eyebrow lifted.
"Tch, you're not listening to the question. I'm sure he's very nice. But I'm asking about you, y/n. Do you like him?"
Looking down, you wiped your hands and pressed your lips together. This conversation had gotten a lot deeper than the ones you and Gavi normally got into. But there was something about the boy in front of you that made your heart soften, urging you to open up to him. Maybe it was the memory of his drunken state and how burdened he seemed. Maybe it was the boyish innocence that he carried, still resilient despite the sin that accompanied being rich and famous so young. There was just something about Gavi that, despite him being immature and infuriating, made you feel safe.
"I don't know. I don't think I can let myself like him before I'm sure that he wants to be with me for the right reasons."
Gavi had never seen you like this. You were one of the most confident people he knew, always walking with your head up and shoulders back. Now, your head hung forward, and despite you standing, it looked like you wanted to curl yourself into a ball. Your eyes were unfocused, as if you were remembering something you would rather forget.
"I understand that."
If Gavi kept surprising you like this, you were going to need your own physio.
"Understand what?"
"Wanting people to like you for the right reasons. Not wanting someone to be interested in you because of your body or your money or your name, but for who you are as a human being."
Your eyes met his hazel ones, holding his gaze. There was something that neither of you were saying, but you both felt. It was a pain that you couldn't explain with words - you either knew what it was like to be an object or you didn't. Feeling the mood weigh heavier on the both of you, you decided it was time to lighten things back up.
"That was really deep Gavi. I didn't know middle schoolers could be so philosophical."
Gavi groaned, cracking a smile in the process. He had gotten up, slipping his shirt over his head, working on getting his shoes back on as well.
"You know good and well that I'm 18, not a middle schoolers. If you want more proof, go ask your mom."
"My mom is an elementary school teacher."
This caused both of you to lose it, gripping your sides in laughter. You looked over at Gavi, watching the way his eyes crinkled and body shook with each laugh. You liked seeing him smile (it finally gave those eyebrows a break).
You and Gavi exited your office, walking to the field together. You would be observing their training to get used to assessing on field injuries with Antonio, another physio assistant. He had graduated from the same program as you, and had been assisting Dr. G for the least 3 years. He had been recruited by Manchester City, and would be moving to England at the end of the season, creating a need to impart all his wisdom on you.
Gavi ran onto the field giddy with excitement. He loved his teammates and all the friends he made at La Masia, but he had a hard time making other friends the more famous he got. Every time he liked a photo or followed someone on Instagram, there would be news articles and headlines reading that he had a wife. He felt comfortable around you, and despite meeting you through his work, you didn't have an obligation to like him in order to win trophies. It started that warm and fuzzy feeling again.
"Gavi, nice of you to join us. You'll be with Ferran and Christensen. Pedri, Lewandowsky, and Kounde, you'll be the other team. It will be precision training."
Ferran sauntered up to Gavi, phone and bottle in hand. As they waited for Christensen to join them, Ferran unlocked his phone and held it up to Gavi. It was a picture of you (seemingly from your private Instagram) this weekend at the beach, sitting on the sand and looking behind you. Your glasses sat at the top of your head as you glanced over your shoulder at the camera.
"In those scrubs, could you ever tell that our little nurse has such a heavenly ass?"
Gavi wished he couldn't hear. Or that Ferran didn't have a mouth to speak. He glared at him and brought his phone up, pressing the side button and making the screen go dark.
"She let you follow her on Instagram and this is what you do? Show her private pictures to the whole team?"
Gavi tried his best to hide the hurt in his voice at the fact that you had yet to follow him, hating that Ferran, nasty as he was to you, got special treatment.
"Oh no, Martin sent this screenshot to me. She hasn't accepted me as a follower yet. And not everyone gets to see - just you, because I know you've been waiting for her to let you hit. Oh and maybe Pedri if you let him."
Gavi wanted to step on Ferran's smug face with his cleats. But what really angered him was Martin. Why was he sharing private photos of you with anyone who asked? Needless to say, Gavi was on fire for the rest of practice, being extra physical with all the boys. He was throwing himself at the ball, scrapping the exposed skin on his arms on almost every play. After five rounds, Gavi's arm had gotten past scrapes and began to bleed, leading to Xavi stopping the drill and calling you over to bandage up the ragefully aggressive boy.
"Hey nurse y/n." Ferran called out, leaning against one of the goal posts.
"Stop calling me a nurse Ferran before I hurt you so bad you're eating through a tube." You were tired of Ferran's remarks from the day you started. The longer you worked with the team, the less they bothered you.
"There's that fire that I love. How was the beach? Do anything...hot?"
Gavi tried to turn around and glare at Ferran, but you gripped his arm tightly, instructing him not to move while you bandaged it.
"Yeah I did actually. I called your dad and almost gave him a son he actually loves, but I decided not to hurt your mom like that." The boys all snickered at your comment. Ferran leaned into Pedri, showing him the picture as well, much to Gavi's displeasure.
"I bet it's bubblegum pink - and I'm not talking about the swimsuit."
You didn't hear what Ferran had said, only Pedri's response of "you're sick dude". The bleeding boy in front of you had. This time you couldn't hold Gavi back, and he turned around fully to smack the phone out of Ferran's hand.
"What's your problem Hermano?" Ferran said, hostility apparent in his voice.
"You're giving me a headache."
"Sounds like a personal issue. y/n, on Thursday after Pedrito tucks Gavi into bed, all the adults are going to the club to celebrate the hopeful win against Espanol. Care to join?"
You pinched Gavi on the arm to keep him from turning around to respond to Ferran's comments about his age. You knew age was a sore spot, but you really needed to make sure his elbow was bandaged properly, and him constantly rotating wasn't helping.
"I'm not sure it's appropriate for me, as a member of staff, to be going out with a group of players. I'm not trying to get in trouble."
Pedri had approached you at this point, draping an arm around Gavi and leaning against him.
"Martin will be there, so you won't be out with the players. You'll be out with the guy you're seeing, and the players will just happen to be there. You should come - you'll get bottle service for free."
Gavi prayed you would say no. He prayed you would be responsible and say that you needed to go home and rest, as you clocked into work at 7:30am. Despite Ferran's taunting, Gavi would also be at the club, and the idea of you seeing him while he was drunk made him queasy. He was already off-putting to some people while sober, so he didn't want to undo the closeness he had achieved with you today with a shot of tequila.
"If Martin's going to be there, I don't see why not. I would love to see what Pedri looks like when confronted by a bottle service girl."
You finished bandaging Gavi's arm, and heard Xavi yelling that this was practice, not school lunch, and everyone got back to their places on and off the field.
The rest of the week passed by rather uncharacteristically. No intense injuries. No texts from Gavi to meet him for an early morning session. It really was just a normal 9-5 job. On Thursday, Barca played at home against Espanol, winning 2-0, with goals from Dembele and Gavi in the second half. Only one head collision between Araujo and another player, so you go to stay on the sides and enjoy the game. At the end, the players came to the sidelines to thank the fans for their support. You watched as Gavi removed his shirt, tossing it to a little girl at the front of the audience, her dad protecting her immediately from the rabid fans around her. You were brought out of your trance by two arms around your waist, lifting you up, causing you to let out a small scream.
"Ready to party bonita?" Ferran's voice asked uncomfortably close to your ear. Upon being put down, you grabbed your medical bag and rushed off the field, eager to get away from the player that felt too comfortable touching you whenever he pleased. Pedri watched you run off from the corner of his eye and turned to Ferran, giving him a side eye for the actions.
You drove home with music blasting over the speakers. It was a great stress relief (even if it encouraged you to speed). You showered and got dressed, excited to get to see some of the boys out in the wild, not only in the secluded space that was Camp Nou. You slipped into a black dress, hair half pulled up, and your makeup done dark and smoky - typical for a night out. A knock at your door made you finally stop admiring your own reflection, and you found Martin in front of you, a black t-shirt hugging his torso, coupled with those dreadful skinny cargo pants in army green (you know the ones that Spanish men love).
"Good evening beautiful. Let me take a look at you." He grabbed your hand spinning you slowly, and taking in every curve the dress hugged.
"Ready to go?" You asked, trying to step into the hallway and close the door to your apartment. He placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
"Not quite. You look absolutely stunning, don't get me wrong, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out dressed like that. It's a little too revealing, and if anyone were to take pictures of us together, I would want them to think you're my girl, not just someone dancing half naked in the club trying to get a footballer."
You felt a pit develop in your stomach. You had never been told by a man to go change for a night out. This is how you had always dressed, feeling confident in yourself and your ability to look put together without looking cheap. You were ready to tell Martin to fuck off, but you thought back to university. You had dressed this way back then too, and all anyone ever wanted was to sleep with you. Maybe he was right - your clothes were giving off the wrong impression. You stepped inside to change, substituting your dress for a pair of high waisted jeans and a corset top with long sleeves.
"Even better." He said, kissing you on the cheek and leading you out of the building.
'Maybe this is what men want,' you thought to yourself as you strapped into Martin's car and plugged in your phone, queuing several songs that you knew would be Martin-approved.
The line at the club was ridiculously long given that people had to go to work the following morning, but Martin explained that word had gotten out about the footballers frequenting this establishment, and so every girl and all her wannabe WAG friends would flock here after a home game to try and get a glimpse of the million euro boys. Martin shook hands with one of the bouncers, who gave you a once over before leading you both to the VIP section. The Barca boys were already there, not running late because of last minute outfit changes.
The older players had their own section where they sat with their partners, speaking with each other as much as they could over the thump of the speakers. The younger players had the more obvious section that overlooked the rest of the club. Pedri noticed you first, looking away from the bottle service girl he was talking to and waving you over. The closer you got, the more you could see the waitress fidgeting and blushing, overwhelmed by the fact that Pedri was whispering their order into her ear (because the music was loud. no other reason). Gavi sat on the seat next to him, legs spread and arms crossed, looking utterly uninterested until his eyes landed on you. He sat up straighter, wondering if it was ok to come up to you and greet you given that you were with another man. As he thought, someone else beat him to it.
"Martin! Good to see you Hermano. Always great when you join us, especially with something pretty on your arm."
You stopped yourself from responding to Ferran, looking at Martin instead. You didn't know much about men, but there was an assumption that most of them didn't like it when other guys made suggestive remarks at the girls they were with. But the anger never came - only a laugh from Martin before joining hands with Ferran to great him. You look a seat beside Gavi, with Martin on your right. He waved the bottle service girl over, still red as a tomato from taking Pedri's order, and started requesting bottles while placing a hand on your lower thigh, rubbing gentle circles into the skin there.
Gavi followed Martin's fingers with his eyes, tracing the same circles with his vision and damn near going cross-eyed. His body filled with heat despite the fact that he had not yet consumed a drop of liquor. There was something about the possessive grip Martin had, coupled with the nervous way you sat with your hands folded, that upset Gavi. Soon enough there were bottles on tables, and shots were being poured.
"What'll you have baby? Don Julio or Azul?"
"I'm actually not drinking. I have to be at work in the morning" You replied, and Gavi went to remove the shot glass from in in front of you, but Martin stopped him.
"What do you mean you're not drinking? Come on you're out and we got bottles, you have to drink. I'm pouring you a shot of Don Julio. Better take it or I'm leaving you here." Martin said with a slight laugh in his voice. You picked up the shot glass reluctantly. You didn't drink on weeknights, but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Gavi leaned into you ear.
"You don't have to take it if you don't want to. He's not in charge of you or what you drink."
You looked over at Gavi, silently thanking him for the encouragement, but felt the cool of the glass against your lips. You looked over at Martin, who licked his lips and gazed at you with hooded eyes. Maybe this is what you needed to be doing - loosening up with the guys you went out with. Maybe it was your uptight nature that made people want to fuck you until you went soft, never sticking around to put the pile of mush back together. You knocked back the shot, reeling from the burn.
"There you go. Good job." You giggled slightly at the praise, leaning into Martin's side. Gavi was not happy. He hadn't known you your whole life, but the three months you had been at Barca showed him fundamentals about your personality. One of them was that you did what you wanted, and didn't let anyone sway you when you were set. Allowing Martin to persuade you into doing things you didn't want to made Gavi uneasy, but he said nothing, knocking back his own shot and leaning back onto the couch. He knew the alcohol would start to damped all his emotions, making the anger and other unnamed feelings more bearable.
Martin had one hand around you, whispering into your ear about nothing in particular, just pleasantries: how good you looked in your jeans, how you pretty you were under the club lights, how nice it was to see you again. The sweet words and the alcohol in your bloodstream made everything slightly hazy and rose tinted. But you weren't relaxed. On the contrary, the panic started to set in at the fact that you were not completely with it in a place full of strangers. This was only made worse by the fact that Martin had poured you another shot, holding it up once again. This time he wasn't even asking, just pushing the glass to your lips waiting for you to oblige.
"Hermano, stop pushing drinks on her." You heard from your other side. Gavi had now pushed himself up from the couch, standing above you almost threateningly. Martin looked up at him and scoffed.
"Listen poquito Pablo. When the adults are speaking, learn to shut up." He looked back down at you, shot glass still raised for you to drink from. His eyes were now angrier and more expectant - like the only way to prove to Pablo that the two of you were happy together was to take the shot. You tried to grab the glass from his hand, but he tutted and moved his hand away: he wanted to feed it to you.
"I might go get something else. I'm not a huge fan of tequila."
"No one is a fan of tequila, bonita. We're just trying to have a good time."
Gavi closed the gap between him and Martin at this point, causing everyone in the group to stand. Pedri disconnected his eyes from the bottle service girl and grabbed Gavi's shoulder, hoping to hold back his outburst. Martin stood, lifting you off the couch with him. He put one arm around your waist, pulling you in close. He then looked Pablo dead in the eyes and took the shot himself.
"Watch the way you speak to your superiors, Cabron. Come on bonita, lets get you a more suitable drink."
He shoved past Gavi with you in tow, walking through past the VIP security and towards the general bar. You looked back over your shoulder at Gavi, who was obviously fuming. Pedri went to stand in front of him, blocking his path in case he decided to retaliate.
"Did you hear what he said to me? I should-"
"You should sit down and not make a scene." Pedri said, looking Gavi in the eye. "Martin wont be coming out with us again, but if you get kicked out of the club, you'll be in deep shit. And you'll worry y/n."
"Why would I care-"
"You just do. Don't make her more anxious than she already is. Sit. Relax. Have one more shot if you want - one, Gavi. Control yourself."
Pedri took his seat again, and the bottle girl came back for them to continue whatever pseudo-flirting they were engaged in.
At the bar, you weren't doing too hot. You thought Martin just wanted to get you away from an uncomfortable encounter, but he seemed intent on getting you to drink. His arm was still tight around your waist as he ordered two Long Islands from the bartender (for all my dear readers that don't drink, that is a mix of rum, tequila, triple sec, gin, and vodka with a splash of cola. Probably the most alcohol you can get in one cocktail). Your stomach dropped further. You didn't usually drink. You hated the feeling of being drunk, and hated more the feeling of not being in control of yourself. But Martin was looking at you like you were the stars that filled the sky as he handed you the glass, clinking his against it, and you couldn't say no. You wanted to keep him happy.
So you sipped, slowly and nervously, as he stood behind you, arms around your waist and swaying to the beat of the music. Ferran had also approached the bar, making conversation with Martin as you tried not to let your distress become visible on your face. The song changed to something more base-y and seductive, and the grip around your waist tightened.
"Come on, bonita. I want to see how you move for me."
You were grateful to be parted from your drink as you were pulled onto the dancefloor, bodies trapping you against your date. You swayed your hips to the beat, allowing yourself to be taken by the feeling of the music. Marin turned you to face him, resting his arms around your lower back, and resting his forehead against yours. It felt good: being able to look at him rather than the other club goers. You felt the occasional brush against your ass (you assumed from Ferran), but worked on steadying yourself. The alcohol was now hitting your system, causing you to become less stable on your feet. Maybe you couldn't handle liquor as well as you thought.
Gavi was back in the booth preparing to take a 4th shot, despite clear instructions from Pedri to stop at 2. The bouncer had said his ID was fake despite letting him in the previous week. The bottle girls, who were blushing and flirting with the other team members, talked to Gavi like he was ordering from the kids menu. And now, his final straw - Martin. "Cabron" didn't bother him. It was a common phrase on the field, usually an indication he was doing well. But it was "poquito" and all the other references to being a child that got under his skin. Children didn't drink - adults did. That's what Gavi was doing, finishing his fourth with no chaser. The alcohol was calming him, making him less likely to punch someone in the face.
He had undone the first button of his shirt and sat on the sofa with his legs spread. He was about to tell the bouncer to let a pretty young thing into the VIP to keep him entertained, when he saw you struggling to walk on the outer edges of the crowd. He should have stayed seated. You were here with your... what was Martin? A date? A boyfriend? Whatever he was, he was meant to be looking after you, not Gavi. Gavi was supposed to be having fun, taking shots and dancing with girls. But he wasn't. He was pushing himself off the couch to go and see why you were walking around shaky and alone.
"Where are you going?" He asked, grabbing onto your shoulders.
"I'm trying to find the bathroom. I feel shaky and nauseous."
"Where is Martin? He didn't offer to take you home?"
"With Ferran. He said to come find him when I feel better. It's fine, he doesn't have to leave because of me." You stumbled forward with that last sentence, being stabilized by Pablo (who, while drunk, was doing better than you). He walked you into the bathroom of the club, helping you lean over the sink and splash some water over your face. He delicately gathered your hair in one hand, keeping it away from the faucet. He looked at the top of your back, shoulder blades peaking out the top. Without thinking he brought his other hand to rest there, rubbing gentle circles into your back as you tried to calm your nausea and anxiety.
"I'm sorry that Martin swore at you." You said, meeting Gavi's eyes through the mirror.
"Don't apologize for him. He's an ass for trying to make you drink. He's an ass for letting you walk around while drunk."
You got up from the sink, turning to face Gavi. His hand slid from your back now to grip your arm. He looked you straight in the eye, despite his vision being foggy at the edges from the shots.
"Don't say that about him, Gavi. Be respectful."
"Why?" The question came out as a yell, startling you slightly.
"Why do i need to respect him when he's cursing me out and treating you like shit? Because I'm younger than him?"
"No one said anything about your age Gavi."
"Why do you keep making excuses for him?"
It was the question you were scared of. The question that lingered in the back of your own mind even before leaving Gavi's lips. Martin was pushing you far outside of your comfort zone, in a way that you hadn't allowed anyone to before.
"He likes me, Gavi. He wants to see where things go. I think I want that too. I've been living my life one way until this point, but obviously it's not working. I have trouble getting close to people," your eyes were welling with tears, "and even when I do get close to them, I can never keep them in my life. No one wants to be around me. So if Martin does, I have to try, don't I?"
Gavi felt a pang in his chest, right where his heart was. It broke him to see you like this - shaking and in tears in a club bathroom, while the man you were trying to impress was probably grinding on other girls. Gavi told himself it had nothing to do with you specifically, just fairness. You were objectively a good person, and you deserved to be treated well by everyone around you. He tugged your shoulder, bringing you in for a tight embrace. You tucked your head into his shoulder, allowing your tears to fall more freely now that he couldn't see you. Something in you began to calm. It was like Gavi had flipped a switch. Your shaking gradually decreased, and you no longer felt like throwing up your internal organs.
"It's because you're a good person."
"What?" Gavi replied, unable to decipher your mumblings while you spoke into his shoulder. You separated from him and looked him in the eyes.
"I don't want you to say things like that about Martin because you're a good person. It just... feels wrong to watch you be a typical rude and angry man. It doesn't fit you."
Gavi let out a breathy laugh, moving away from you and towards the door.
"A lot of people would disagree with you. Being angry is my defining quality."
"On the field maybe. But don't bring that into your real life. I like you how you are."
There was that feeling again. Gavi could try and blame the alcohol, but this was different. It was like there was a match lit right under his skin, burning him from the inside, making it hard for him to breathe - hard to not touch you. Maybe he need help. Or to stop drinking.
"You know I could never be angry with you doctora."
___
You woke up the following morning on the couch of your apartment. You were still in your clothes and makeup from the night before. Your phone was dead and on the coffee table in front of you. You started to recall the night before in bits and pieces, with your interaction with Gavi being the most vivid. You set your phone to charge, going to wipe off the makeup from last night. You wracked your brain trying to remember how you got home. A part of you hoped it was Gavi that brought you there. For safety reasons (nothing else ofc). No one would come near you while walking with Gavi.
As your phone came back on, you heard the *ding* of about 80 messages. You finished washing your face and headed over to check.
[Martin Zubimmendi]: Sad that you didn't invite me in last night. Hope to see you again soon Bonita xx
[Gavi]: Text me when you get up so I know you're alive.
[Gavi]: Are you coming in today?
[Dr. Gonzalez]: Please call me immediately about missing this morning's shift.
It was only after reading that last one that you looked at the time. 10:41am. You had missed all of the morning activities at the camp.
"Good morning Dr. Gonzalez! You wanted me to call?"
"The morning is almost over, miss. I was informed by Pablo this morning that you were at an appointment and not to expect you until noon. Please note it is not appropriate to have the players relay messages for you. In the future, please communicate with me directly about any hours you will miss."
You unclenched your jaw, relived over the fact that you still had a job.
"Yes sir. I apologize. I'll speak with you directly next time. See you at noon."
You ran to get changed, and as you waited for your coffee to brew, you texted your savior.
[You]: you're actually the best friend on the planet. Thank you for covering for me.
[Gavi]: 1. I know I'm the best and 2. You owe me
[You]: anything you want
[Gavi]: famous last words doctora
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A/N: I'm hoping the length will keep y'all at bay for a few days. I have been feeling kinda crappy about myself for the last few days, which is why I have missed some of the prompt challenge. Reading messages and comments from y'all has made me feel better, so thanks <3 I am going to make the parts longer from now on to avoid the story being like 25 parts. Please feel free to leave any feedback/ comments. I love hearing from y'all (bonus points if you also say y'all).