"Can you please sleep with Alexia?"

I look up from my position on the sofa, the jerk of my body disgruntling the sleeping cat on my chest. Oli leaps onto the floor with a shake of his tabby coat, allowing me space to stare at Esmee in more obvious shock.

Her hair is still braided from training and there are bags under her eyes that I hadn't noticed before. I know she's an adult, but I feel obliged to look after her anyway, especially when she giddily introduced me to her girlfriend last week and called me her surrogate mother.

That though makes what she has said even weirder.

"I'm sure she's at home right now. I don't mind not having dinner!" she continues, audibly desperate now.

My laptop is open on the coffee table with about a thousand different emails begging to be responded to, and Olivia is supposed to call me in half an hour to discuss personal interviews. "I'm busy," I tell Esmee, not much emotion in my tone. "Ale knows that."

"And it's putting her in such a bad mood," whines the twenty-year-old. She flings herself onto the sofa, her weight crushing my legs until I shriek and kick her away.

'She's being understanding, and you should give her the benefit of the doubt. They're trying to fly me to London when Jaimie comes back from Mexico for a photoshoot. Coca Cola want to release another advert by next month, but they want something Ajax-y so I need to get to Amsterdam. We went surfing on Saturday – she's getting enough attention."

"No she's fucking not."

"Last time I checked, I'm the one dating her," I reply through gritted teeth as I skim through the next email I've been sent. Something about contracts and press for the club – something that could've been more concise and conveyed via a text from my agent.

"Well then actually date her!" Esmee blows out a frustrated breath and gets up, ready to storm off. I'd be grateful for that, to be honest, because I'm exhausted from the intensity of today's training session and I need to conserve energy since my evening has no end in sight just yet. "I'll reply to the emails. Please go upstairs and give her a smooch – the woman is mean when you don't give her attention."

I hum noncommittally.

"Fleur. Fleur, please."

"Can you let me focus?" She flinches at the sharpness of my tone. I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. One of the many therapists I've seen – or maybe even all of them – encourages me, in my head, to take a deep breath in. "Esmee, I know you mean well, but I am stressed and I am tired. Alexia is a professional, and whatever you are insinuating is ridiculous. I really don't have time for your teasing, and if you'd like to make yourself useful instead, could you please ask Mapi and Ingrid if they have made dinner yet. I don't have the energy to cook, and we're not ordering food for the fourth night in a row."

I feel like a single mother.

Esmee is obedient enough.

The next day, I find out that she also isn't ridiculous, taking care to observe Alexia's behaviour during the training session on the pitch.

She snaps at Mapi when a pass goes a little too wide, and suddenly the defender is staring at me, echoing Esmee's pleas from last night.

We get into bigger groups which save Mapi before I can. Jona is experimenting with a new front line, trying to get a deadly attacking triangle out of Esmee, Alexia, and me. There's certainly chemistry, but no one has questioned that so far.

Today, however, Alexia doesn't seem open to passing the ball to me.

In fact, she doesn't even look at me. She doesn't see the space I'm in, nor the direct shot on goal I could have.

She gets tackled by Marta, who does so with ease, and she looks shocked about it because her eyes have been trained on the grass, meaning she hadn't seen it coming.

"That'll be you at Ajax next season," jokes Esmee. Unless she has been learning Dutch in her spare time, Alexia shouldn't understand that, but something makes her scowl even more, and the social media team is quick to focus on other players. "Fleur de Voss makes another selfish run into the box – oh, is that a Ballon d'Or in her back pocket? Is that... wow, her head has grown so large and her ego has inflated her like a balloon. She's floating in the sky now, folks–"

"I'm going to suffocate you with your pillow when you're asleep."

"What would the papers say!" she mocks. "You'll get people defacing your mural."

"Shut up about the mural," I groan, tired of being teased for it. I didn't know they were painting it!

"I saw on Instagram that they painted the face last." She's grinning.

I imagine what noise Esmee would make if I kicked her in the stomach. "Why did they do that?" I ask her, indulging it one last time.

"In case you didn't win."

She bursts into laughter, bending over and clutching her sides, until Alexia clears her throat, frustrated by our conversation. Her training kit has grass stains all over it, but she doesn't see my questioning expression because she averts her gaze, staring past me as though I am invisible. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood.

It pisses me off, quite frankly.

Enough so that the calls I have to answer can wait, and I am stomping up the stairs to Alexia's floor before I can reason that it's probably nothing to do with me.

She lets me in quickly. Desperately?

Arms folded, I am ready to argue, but there is something in her eyes that tells me now is not the time.

Something softer that had been present at training but hidden behind rude actions.

Something a little... "No," I say, shaking my head smugly. "No way."

Alexia Putellas is looking at me as though she is going to die without me. And, because I now know her behaviour isn't because she is upset with me, I am free to return to my own floor and continue wading through the various tasks I have to do.

"Well?" asks Esmee expectantly, a glimmer of hope flashing across her features. "Can I actually look forward to training tomorrow?"

"I told her I'd be back later."

━━━━━━━

'Later' may morph into something longer than intended, but we are out for lunch quick enough for Alexia to not have dissolved in a puddle of her own hormones.

She tells me that she is ovulating.

Wetsuits were big cockblocks and a sleepover was off the table on matchday -1, but, when I think about it, that had been the first time we have actually been alone since I won the Ballon d'Or. I dreamt of a celebratory night, just the two of us and a big bed somewhere, but it hasn't yet come to fruition. Stupid FIFA and their stupid scheduling.

"Look, Fleur," Alexia repeats, thrusting her phone towards me. She doesn't have to stretch across the table because we are sitting next to one another, but her intrusion into my personal space is still a bit cumbersome. For the briefest of moments, it feels like we are back to square one. Or at least, I wish we were. "Symptoms may include an increase in sex drive, cramping–"

"I know what ovulating is," I cut her off.

She nods her head triumphantly. "Good. We are on the same page." The book is apparently about how fast two people can eat a decent helping of paella, because she is piling the rice onto both our plates with an amusing urgency. The grains heap in the middle as I stare at the amount of food we have to get through. "Amor, venga. The quicker we eat, the quicker we go home."

"I wanted a nice, relaxing meal with my girlfriend."

"You can have a nice, relaxing meal of your girlfriend!"

I frown. "I'm really hungry, Ale."

But if Alexia wants something, she usually gets it.

The street we walk down is quiet – one of the lesser-taken routes out of the plaza. Alexia's determination has led us away from the hustle of the restaurant, and, as we walk, the tension I had ignored while eating grows.

I feel her hand slip into mine, fingers intertwining, hands swinging between us. Her touch sends a surge of electricity coursing through me, igniting a fire that must have been contagious. I find myself missing Alexia just as much as she has missed me.

And then, without warning, she stops, turning to face me with a look of wild desire in her eyes. In an instant, she's in my arms, her lips crashing against mine with a fierce urgency I should feel guilty about.

The heat of her body presses against mine and her hands roam freely over my back, holding me closer as if she can't quite get enough. It's easy to forget where we are and I respond quickly, my own hands finding their way to her waist. I pull her in tightly, and, with a hunger that borders on desperation, Alexia is whimpering into my mouth.

It's narrow here, and she only has to push me a few steps backwards until I'm feeling the hard surface of the wall through my layers of clothing. She pins me down with her body, a hand falling to my hip, snaking underneath my coat to be even closer to me. Her breath is hot against my neck and her lips are soft as they trail across my jawline.

She groans as she goes, face buried in my neck, and I open my eyes briefly to survey our surroundings, unsure if I can resist anything with this demonstration of what I have been missing.

I wish they were still closed the minute I see a familiar face. And then another.

Jana and Salma are staring at us with open mouths and horrified eyes.

I bring my hand up to Alexia's head to keep her face where it is, hoping to rectify the situation with some kind of anonymity, but suddenly Patri and Pina appear and there is no question of identifying who is going to town on my neck.

Four index fingers point in our direction, and my heart races at the idea that there are more of them, but it is really only them listlessly sight-seeing in disbelief.

Alexia continues her blissful unawareness, angled away from them, but she hears shouting soon enough.

"Capi, I didn't realise Fleur was the lunch you were going out for!" shrieks Pina, sounding partly traumatised and partly smug.

"How many of them are there?" Alexia whispers into my ear, choosing not to look because she, like me, will then find the moment ruined.

"Four," I answer at the same volume, now making uncomfortable eye contact with Salma. She respected me before this, but now I don't think she is so sure.

"If we keep going, they'll leave us alone."

And, you know what? I'm only human! Who am I to deny her what she wants?

Plus, as far as traumatised teammates go, at least Esmee will be happy that her captain has finally been satisfied. (She won't enjoy hearing the details, but I know she secretly loves the gossip.)

━━━━━━━

It spreads through the team like wildfire, as expected. The girls love to gossip, but either fear or respect keeps the whispering at a certain, inaudible volume, so that Alexia and I can train in peace.

What gives them away – bless their attempt at subtlety – is their facial expression. From grins to smirks to absolutely gobsmacked dropped jaws, I'm pretty sure the photographers have their work cut out for them in finding pictures of us training that resemble anything remotely professional.

I think Alexia is feeding into it when she announces that she'll be hosting team-bonding the day after we get back from Villarreal. I tell her as such, but she plays coy and is insistent that she is simply being a good captain.

Esmee and I arrive at the arranged time, having journeyed from far, far away (Esmee's out of breath), so, because we are in Spain, we are the first there. I help Alexia tidy her living room some more because it apparently isn't perfect, while Esmee gladly samples the snack selection in lieu of being useful.

When people begin to arrive, it's easy to fall into the trap of hosting. No one comments on how comfortable I am here, but it is obvious on all of their faces that their collective brain cell is thinking that thought. There is excitement in the air, drenched in curiosity, and everyone is trying to gauge the dynamic between us. To their disappointment, Alexia prefers to centre the evening on various activities instead of dishing out the details of her – our – lovelife.

It's only when the last game has been played and everyone settles down to watch something together that her control over the situation slips.

I watch it happen without being able to stop it, knowing the evening will run its inevitable course.

The girls aren't going to ask questions, but Alexia is also not going to hide.

I think she is fed up with it already – even if she was the one who decided on secrets in the first place. We've been together for just over a month and there is already enough footage of us caught by my cameras to have a separate documentary made.

Everyone is spread out around the lounge; on the sofa, the loveseat, the armchairs, the floor. There are blankets because Alexia really can't function in winter and neither can the others, and it's a lot sleepier in here after most of the team's energy was expended in the endless rounds of Twister we have been engaged in. It's quite wholesome, to be honest, and my heart is as full as the room.

There's not much space, and, like how we normally end up, I sit halfway on top of Alexia. We're sharing the sofa with Esmee, who doesn't bat an eye, and I quite like the movie that has been put on so I choose to focus on that. Sure, I can feel the eyes on me as Alexia pulls a blanket over us and relaxes into the position as if we have done this a hundred times (which we have, but the team doesn't know that), and, sure, it might be a little brave of her to let her hands wander up my t-shirt to rest on my bare stomach, but I don't mind.

A soft glow is cast over the room from the screen, and as the movie plays, I feel Alexia shift beside me, her warmth seeping into my side. I glance at her in question, catching the glint in her eyes as she meets my gaze, her hand beginning to trace patterns on my skin.

I lean into her touch, ignoring the shivers running down my spine. When I look at Alexia, I am overcome by everything that I feel for her.

Closer now, all I can think to do is press my lips against hers. 

notes: 

ok here's ur cuteness. u know what this means for the next chapters...

ALSO this had been the chapter i was most excited to write because it's based off the coti x coti music video so go watch it and tell me it's not barça femeni when they find out fleur and alexia are making out in their spare time

and a treat for being so patient

salma: alexia and fleur are dating!

talia: was that a secret?? the whole of man united knows