fic: the best luck I had was you (football rpf)
OP commented! I am very happy. and now I can post here. :D (for this, read: oh, fuck it, if I didn't get to the part with Iker and hissyfits in this fic I will just have to write a sequel.)
title: the best luck I had was you
fandom: football RPF
pairing: Xavi/Iniesta preslash
rating: G
word count: 7500
summary: The year is 2004 and the setting is Camp Nou: the coach is Frank Rijkaard, the president is Joan Laporta, and the midfielders are just a little bit psychic.
notes: originally written for the soul-bonding prompt at footballkink. dear OP, thank you for an awesome idea! and bless you, tabacoychanel, for betaing this and putting up with me. ♥ forever! (and since a few people have asked: for further reference, beyond what's in the footnotes, my Barcelona primer is here to inform you about who these people are and why you should care that they're so obviously in love.)
the best luck I had was you
When Andres was at La Masia, they told the students that Cruyff was the first person to use bonding in football. It wasn't exactly true, but it was close enough - Cruyff was the first person to figure out how to make it work. People had tried before, but unless you were even a little sensitive nothing happened, and then if you were sensitive but you got bonded to the wrong partner, it drove you both crazy. Supposedly a couple of Dutch players in the second division had killed themselves, and after that nobody was interested in trying anymore. Then there was Cruyff, and the Dream Team. Of course, it all collapsed so suddenly and so spectacularly that even if anyone had worked out why the team sometimes seemed able to read each other's minds, there would have been no attempt at imitation. The physios at La Masia still tested everyone who came through the system for compatibility, but the youth coaches would never make any of them bond anymore.
Andres had been tested, just like all his classmates. He was a little sensitive - most of them were, if they started training early enough - but nothing special. Nothing like Guardiola had been, or Xavi was, anyway. Xavi wasn't bonded to anyone but he could hear everyone on the pitch; the physios said he was the most sensitive player they'd ever seen. Andres could barely feel that his teammates were there at all, even during games, when there was so much adrenaline running through them that they were practically screaming their thoughts at each other. Sometimes when he got really nervous he could sense Victor in the back of his mind, trying to stay calm, but that was it, and they'd played together for so long that if they hadn't been able to feel each other at all it would have been unusual. Nobody in their right mind would bond a goalkeeper to a midfielder, anyway. Andres worried about plenty of things when he started playing for the first team, but bonding with one of his teammates wasn't one of them.
*
Andres thought it must mean something strange when he saw that the míster had assigned him to room with Xavi. Xavi had looked after him a little when van Gaal gave him his start with the first team, but he hadn't had to do anything like that in a while (Andres wasn't a baby), and inasmuch as they had regular roommates for away games, Andres was usually with Victor. Xavi roomed with Puyi most of the time. If everyone had been moved around that would be one thing, but it was just the four of them who had switched.
He didn't know what was going on, and it only made him more nervous when Xavi asked while they were unpacking if they could talk after dinner. Victor kept shooting him worried looks while they ate; Andres didn't really notice until Victor kicked him under the table and muttered, "Finish your food," but when he looked down at his plate, he realized he'd been pushing his dinner around without actually eating it. He tried to act more normally after that, but he was pretty sure Victor wasn't buying it.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Victor asked quietly, as they got up from the table. "Do you want me to get one of the physios for you?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Andres said, glancing around for something - anything - to distract Victor's attention. Once he got his teeth into an idea, he would never let it go, and if he decided that Andres wasn't feeling well, he was perfectly capable of making life unlivable for their entire away trip with his smothering brand of solicitude. When Andres actually was sick or injured, it could be kind of nice to have Victor keeping everyone else off his back, but things were complicated enough already with whatever was happening with Xavi. The last thing Andres needed was Victor trying to protect him from the rest of the team.
"Sorry to interrupt," Xavi said. Andres hadn't seen him coming up behind them, and jumped. "But I need to borrow Andrew."
"Well, don't keep him up too late," Victor admonished, his eyes crinkling up in a smile. He started to walk away, past Andres, and leaned in to add more seriously in his ear, "I mean it, make sure you get enough sleep."
"Yes, mother," Andres sighed. Victor grinned again and wandered off towards Carles and Oleguer.
"Trouble?" Xavi inquired.
Andres blinked. "Oh. No, just, Victor… worries."
"It's not a bad thing, Andresito," Xavi said, smiling. "Shall we?"
Xavi didn't seem to mind the silence as they made their way up to their room, but Andres was nearly squirming by the time the door was shut behind them. "Should Carles be here too?" he blurted out.
Xavi turned to stare at him. "Puyi? Why?"
"If it's… I don't know, captain things, or…"
"Oh - oh." Xavi fumbled behind himself for the bed and sat down, still watching Andres and now frowning a little. "It's not anything like - Andrew, you didn't do anything wrong. You're not in trouble."
Andres let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "But then why - "
"No, it's - it's about me." Xavi looked away, his expression irritated and almost - embarrassed? But Xavi was never embarrassed about anything. "I don't really know… well, anyway. The míster thinks I need to get bonded," he said bluntly.
"Oh," Andres said. "I thought - wait, with me? But - I mean, Leo - "
"Leo," Xavi muttered. He looked even more annoyed, and Andres cringed a little internally. "Our brilliant little idiot. Well, Rijkaard thought about that too, except it turns out that Leo went ahead and bonded himself back at La Masia, so now he can't. And of course it was with Fabregas and Pique," he went on, "and they didn't want to get him into trouble for bonding without permission or supervision or the remotest shred of common sense, so nobody mentioned that to the staff before both of them went to England. I could wring their fucking necks."
"To Cesc and Gerard?" Andres asked, ignoring the rest of it, because it wasn't really relevant. "Is that even possible?"
"Apparently, if you do it young enough," Xavi said, rolling his eyes. "I think it was mostly Fabregas, anyway. We asked one of the physios at La Masia and he said Cesc was always the sensitive on the team. Leo certainly isn't." He paused, then added with a sigh, "I don't know, maybe it's for the best, really. If Leo weren't already bonded I think the míster would have made him bond with Ronnie. Never mind that he's too young, and if that was the only way he'd ever played on the first team he'd be crippled when Ronnie retires."
"Is that why - now - "
Xavi shook his head, and then sighed again when Andres flinched. "Look, just - here, sit down. You don't need to hover. And to be honest I don't know why now, except that the míster thinks we need it." He hesitated, then added, "Van Gaal wanted to have me bonded when I made the first team, you know. Guardiola wouldn't let him. He said I was too young. And then, after… well." He didn't add that Guardiola had had his own reasons for caution, but he didn't have to. The players who were there when Figo left were not about to forget. Andres hadn't been on the senior team, but even at La Masia they'd felt the backlash.
"I just don't understand why me," Andres said quietly. He kept his gaze on his hands in his lap, and twitched when Xavi tugged at his chin, trying to get him to turn around.
"Andresito. It doesn't have to be you if you don't want it. I will go to Rijkaard and tell him no, and we'll never say anything about it again. I won't let them force you into anything. I didn't - you're so young," Xavi added, randomly. "I don't know how to - to say, or - you don't have to do this. But if I'm going to bond with anyone, I'd rather it was you."
Andres finally gave in to Xavi's grip on his face, and turned to look at him. He looked worried, and maybe even upset, and Andres abruptly realized that Xavi - Xavi, who had been his protector and idol and almost a big brother for years - was scared. Paradoxically, that made him feel a lot better.
Xavi was still talking, something about not wanting to pressure him into anything he didn't want. The words weren't really important, so Andres thought it would be all right to interrupt. "Okay."
"…and nobody would - wait, what?"
"You can tell the míster I said yes. It's okay so long as it's you."
Xavi stopped dead for a moment, completely frozen. Then he brought up his other hand up to cup Andres' cheek, and hold his face still. "You don't have to do this."
"If it will help the team, then I want to," Andres said firmly. "The míster wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary. And I trust you."
"You can't undo this, if we do it," Xavi said, as if he hadn't heard him. And as if Andres hadn't had all the same lessons on bonding at La Masia that he had, for that matter. "And it's dangerous. Sometimes things go wrong, still. Sometimes people leave. You can't just - just decide to trust someone like that."
"It's not someone, it's you," Andres pointed out. "Are you going to leave?"
"What? Don't be stupid," Xavi said reflexively. "I'll be at Barça till I retire."
"It's all right, then." Andres smiled and covered Xavi's hands on his cheeks with his own. "You can let me think about it and ask again in a week, if it makes you feel better. But I'm going to say yes." He squeezed his fingers around Xavi's palms, then ducked out of his suddenly-loose grip and went to get ready for bed. They had a game tomorrow, and God knew Victor would nag like a fishwife if he didn't get a good night's sleep.
*
Andres didn't exactly plan on telling Victor about his conversation with Xavi so much as it came tumbling out of his mouth during lunch after an otherwise unremarkable mid-week practice. He wasn't sure why; he'd made up his mind, and he didn't need advice. But he couldn't tell his parents, and it felt like the kind of thing he should talk to someone about. Victor was probably the closest thing he had to family on the team, aside from Xavi himself.
"Oh," Victor said. He sounded remarkably unsurprised. "Well, I guess that makes sense. We don't have any pairs on the first team right now, and if the míster wants Xavi bonded, you're pretty much the only option."
"What?" That was not the line of reasoning Andres had expected him to pursue. "But - Leo, or - "
"Leo's too young," Victor said, ticking off on his fingers. "Deco's too old. Ronnie, Samu and Ludo probably aren't compatible with anyone, even Xavi. Olegeur or Puyi, maybe, but I don't think it would be all that helpful tactically. I'm a goalkeeper. And it's probably better to keep it in the academy, after what happened with - well, anyway. So that leaves you." He seemed to realize that that could have sounded a little insulting and added, "Not that you wouldn't be a good bondmate anyway."
Andres laughed. "I don't think it works that way, but - " His phone rang. Andres wasn't expecting any calls, but it could have been the club, or his family with an emergency, so he shot Victor an apologetic look and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Ah, hello, is this Andres?"
"Yes…" Andres frowned. He didn't think it was some journalist who'd gotten hold of his personal number, but - "Who is this?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have - this is Pep Guardiola, Xavi gave me your number and asked me to call you. I know we haven't really spoken before but he thought you might have some questions I could answer?"
"Um," Andres said, because Guardiola. Guardiola. He'd been a stammering mess for hours after the first time he'd met him as a child, and it didn't feel all that different now that he was theoretically mature enough to handle talking to his idols.
"He mentioned that you were thinking about getting bonded," Guardiola prompted, when the silence stretched awkwardly on.
"Oh, um, yes. But, uh, no, I mean, I'm not thinking about it, I decided, so, uh. I don't have any questions? But, um, thank you for offering?" Victor had both hands clamped over his mouth, trying not to laugh, and fled the kitchen when Andres kicked at his shins repeatedly. Andres could still hear him snickering in the next room.
"Ah, I see. You should probably tell Xavi if you've decided against it, he's very worried, you know," Guardiola said.
"What? No, I mean, I decided to do it, I told him that, he wouldn't listen but he's just being Xavi, you know, I'll have to tell him a few more times before he believes me, that's all," Andres rambled, unable to stop himself until he heard Guardiola chuckling.
"I understand. But Andres, I'm very glad to hear that Xavi is being so responsible with you. It's a big decision, and one that you don't want to regret making."
"Ye-es," Andres said slowly. He didn't want to offend Guardiola, but - "We all had the lessons at La Masia. But it's Xavi, so… it's not a decision I'm worried about."
"In that case, I think Xavi will suit you very well," Guardiola said. He sounded serious, but also pleased about something. "My best wishes for your bonding, Andres, and also my congratulations, because I have no doubt it will be a success. If you're sure you don't want to ask me anything, I'll let you get back to your day."
"Actually - " Andres started, then swallowed.
"Go ahead," Guardiola said. "Whatever it is, I won't mind."
Andres bit his lip, but it wasn't like he'd ever get a chance to ask again. "Do you regret it?"
Guardiola exhaled slowly. "You certainly don't ask easy questions. No, don't apologize, it's a good thing to ask." He paused for a moment. "I wish it had ended differently. There are things I said, things I did, that I wish I could change. But if I could go back and change that decision, I wouldn't. I wouldn't have even when he had just left. My bonding is not something I have ever regretted."
"That's all I wanted to ask," Andres said quietly. "Thank you."
"If I have been of any help at all, I'm glad. Tell Xavi I'm happy for you both. And I look forward to watching you play."
Andres hung up the phone and stared at it until Victor wandered back in. "Xavi getting cold feet already? Maybe you should keep looking for a better bondmate," he said, grinning. Andres looked up at him, more worried than amused.
"It would have been you, if you weren't a goalkeeper, you know that," he said, as if that would make it better.
Victor snorted. "Andres, I've known you since you were twelve and cried yourself to sleep every night because you missed your mother. I don't need to be bonded to you. I can already read your mind."
*
There were a lot of things to take care of even after Andres said yes a second time (and then a third time because Xavi didn't listen the second time either) - the physios checked every detail of their medical records about five times and redid all their blood tests to make sure neither of them was going to catch something from the other, and there was even a mandatory counseling session to make sure they knew what they were getting into - but the actual bonding was a bit of an anticlimax. "You both have someone to take you home, right," Emili said absent-mindedly, most of his attention on whatever arcane medical preparations he had to make, in the physios' office after practice. It was the Monday after a league match, and they'd already been knocked out of the Cup, so there wasn't a mid-week game. "Because you could be very disoriented and you shouldn't drive for a day or two."
"Victor's waiting for me in the parking lot," Andres said.
Xavi glanced up quickly, then back down at his hands. "Carles said he'd hang around and see if I needed a hand."
"Even if you think you feel fine, let him drive," Emili said firmly. "You have a long trip and if you get dizzy suddenly you could crash your car. When you get home you should rest for a few hours. Nausea, vertigo and tinnitus are completely normal reactions, and you may get tired more easily than usual for a few days, even weeks, but if you aren't feeling well when you wake up tomorrow call me right away."
"Okay," Andres said. Xavi grunted, and Andres kicked him in the ankle. He understood that Xavi still wasn't entirely happy about getting bonded, but Emili was just trying to take care of them.
"I will," Xavi said. This time when he lifted his head he kept it up long enough to smile at Emili and pat Andres on the hand. Andres didn't particularly need the reassurance, but he supposed the gesture didn't hurt.
"Good, good. Now, give me your arm …" Emili drew a vial of blood from each of them, did something to it involving an unnaturally blue liquid in a test tube, and then took out fresh syringes and gave them both an injection. The entire process took less than five minutes.
"Wait, is that it?" Andres asked, when Emili didn't start any other medical procedure. He didn't feel any different, except for the weird blurriness at the edges of his vision, and the humming sound that… oh.
"Shit, Andrew! Andrew, wake up!" Andres blinked his eyes open. The world was still kaleidoscoping around him in very interesting colors, and for some reason he appeared to be lying on the floor, but he knew the fuzzy lump in front of his face was Xavi. He closed his eyes again, because the dancing lights were starting to make him nauseous, but he still knew exactly where Xavi was. He was pretty sure that they could be standing at opposite ends of a completely dark football pitch and he would know exactly where Xavi was. He could feel Xavi inside his head - his bare knees on the cold tile floor, the sore spot on his arm where Emili had stuck the needle, and the way he was genuinely starting to panic over Andres' fainting fit.
"'M okay," Andres mumbled, trying and failing to sit up. He felt a wave of relief wash over Xavi and squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, as if he could somehow make his new Xavi-sense get quieter by shutting off his normal ones. God, did Xavi feel like this all the time? How had he not gone crazy?
"I don't," Xavi said. "It's… I don't know, spatial with the others. I just know where they are. This is different. Oh, fuck, no, close your eyes again, that is so fucking weird…" Andres both felt and heard him stagger to his feet and retch into the sink.
"The nausea should pass soon," Emili said with great professionalism. "You're having a stronger reaction than most people, that's all."
"Great," Xavi muttered. His mouth tasted disgusting, Andres thought vaguely. He managed to scoot over to where Xavi was standing without looking, grabbed Xavi's bare ankle and held on for dear life. He felt a little less like he was going to throw up as soon as he opened his eyes, so he tried again.
The spinning colors were slowing down, at least. Andres focused his eyes on the fabric of Xavi's shorts, and let his brain sort out what he was actually seeing from what he was getting from Xavi. "It's not too bad," he said at last. "Here, just - " and before he could even reach up Xavi was leaning down to grip his free hand.
"Up you go," he said. Moving briefly made the dizziness worse, but Andres was upright and Xavi was clinging just as hard to him, so he didn't feel too embarrassed. "Don't be silly," Xavi added, "why would you be?" The words were accompanied by a surge of affectionate reassurance that made Andres hide his face in Xavi's shoulder until he stopped blushing.
"Once you get used to it, the bond should stop being so… intrusive," Emili said. "It may take a few days, though. I'll speak with the coach about letting you train separately from the rest of the team until you get your coordination back. I've never seen such an immediate reaction," he went on, clearly distracted. "I wonder if there's something in your bloodwork that would explain it… well, anyway. Do you think you can make it to the parking lot, or would you like to rest in the infirmary for a while?"
Andres gingerly stepped back from Xavi, though he kept a tight grip on his hand. "I don't want to leave Victor out there for too long. He'll start to worry."
Emili nodded. "Well, he'll get you home safe, I know. Remember, if you're not feeling better in the morning, call me!" He kissed both Andres and Xavi on the forehead and turned back to his work, leaving them to make their slow, unsteady way out of Camp Nou.
Victor and Carles were both hanging out in the parking lot, leaning against Victor's car. They looked like they were having a pretty good time talking to each other, right up until Victor looked up and noticed Xavi and Andres coming towards them. Andres had never seen Victor's mother-hen instinct kick in that quickly, and concluded that he probably looked like absolute shit. "It went fine," he said, pre-empting Victor's inevitable interrogation, as Victor came over to help at the fastest pace possible that could still be called a walk. Between him and Xavi Andres managed to stagger to Victor's car without any mishaps, although he could already tell the late afternoon sunlight was going to give him a headache. Xavi dug in his jacket pocket and came up with a pair of sunglasses that he handed over without comment.
"So?" Carles asked, grinning. Andres supposed they all took their amusement where they could find it, but he wished his teammates didn't find watching Victor smother him half to death with well-meaning attention quite so hilarious.
"It went fine," he repeated.
"For varying definitions of fine," Xavi amended. "Andresito here fainted. Fell right out of his chair."
Andres wanted very much to kick Xavi, but he could still feel the echo of how badly he'd scared him earlier, so he settled instead for pointing out, "Well, Xavi threw up."
Carles laughed. "An auspicious beginning, eh? Nowhere to go but up. Well. Am I driving you straight home, then?"
Andres instinctively clutched harder at Xavi's hand, and then wanted to kick himself. Xavi didn't even look over at him, but he said, as if casually, "I think I'll stick with Andrew for a while, make sure he's settled. Sorry to make you wait for nothing, Puyi."
Victor eyed them both for a minute, then shrugged. "Look, Andres looks like he might pass out again and my place is closer than his anyway. I'll take you back there to rest, and if you're feeling better later, we can have dinner together. My guest bedroom is big enough for both of you. I'd have to go pick up Andres for practice tomorrow morning anyway, it saves me the extra drive." He unlocked the back door of the car and held it open. "You should come too, Puyi. Keep me company while they're sleeping."
Carles and Victor kept talking, but Andres stopped paying attention at that point and just collapsed gratefully into the backseat of Victor's car. Xavi slid in beside him, close enough that Andres didn't have to stretch to put his head on Xavi's shoulder, and the world went comfortably blurry for a while. He faded back into consciousness a few times - he remembered a familiar song on the radio, and Victor talking quietly to Xavi as he drove, and even Xavi taking his sunglasses off and then the weight of Xavi's hand on the nape of his neck - but for the most part the trip to Victor's was a warm fuzzy blank. He woke up long enough to stumble into the house and landed face-first on the bed in the guest bedroom less than a minute afterwards.
He couldn't quite vocalize what he wanted with a mouthful of pillow, but Xavi was curled up next to him before he could even really try, and then Andres was asleep again.
*
The sun had long since set when Andres finally resurfaced. The room was unfamiliar but he knew without having to think about it that the arm thrown across him was Xavi's. Andres lay quietly for a moment, reminding himself that Emili had promised the bond would stop being so overwhelming eventually, and climbed out of bed to go look for Victor.
He found him in the kitchen, reading the newspaper at the table. "Hey," Andres said, and put his hands on Victor's shoulders. Victor didn't jump.
"Hey yourself," he offered, twisting around a little to look up at Andres. "You missed Puyi, he left a couple hours ago. Are you hungry? We ate already, but we saved some for you and Xavi."
"I think I'll wait till I know I'm not going to be throwing up tomorrow," Andres said. "It won't kill me to go hungry for one night."
"Suit yourself," Victor sighed, sounding martyred as usual by Andres' refusal to take proper care of himself. "Where's Xavi, anyway?"
"Still sleeping. It's not like he was fainting all over the place, I don't know why he's so tired," Andres added with a soft laugh.
Victor hesitated, then patted Andres' hands. "He was up for a while watching you after you passed out. I talked to him a little."
"Victor!" Andres hissed. "He's our vice-captain and my bondmate, you are not allowed to threaten Xavi."
"I didn't threaten him," Victor said, with an eyeroll that Andres could actually hear in his voice even if he couldn't see it. "We just talked."
"But you're not going to tell me about what, right," Andres said.
"Right."
Andres sighed. He could probably pester whatever it was out of Victor, given enough time, but he wasn't sure it was worth it, and anyway Xavi was waking up. "All right. I'll be right back."
"Go back to bed! It's after midnight!" Victor called after him. "If you oversleep and make me late to practice tomorrow morning I will kill you!"
Andres smiled to himself all the way back to Victor's guest bedroom. In the light from the hallway, he could just barely make out Xavi sitting up in the middle of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"All right. Still tired, I think. You?"
"Well, I don't think I'll have any trouble getting back to sleep," Andres said wryly. He sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitated. "Can I?"
"You don't have to ask. You don't ever have to ask, you understand?" Even in the dark, Andres could feel Xavi's eyes fixed on him, but he shrugged them off and lay down so that his face was tucked against Xavi's shoulder. Xavi immediately wrapped an arm around him, pulling him even closer. "I will give you anything you need, Andresito," Xavi said, soft and serious, like a promise. "Anything you want. Everything. You never have to ask."
There was absolutely nothing Andres could say in reply to that, so he let the words die away into a silence that wasn't as awkward as it could have been. He knew Xavi knew what he felt; really, he didn't need to say anything at all. "So Victor said he talked to you while I was asleep," he offered at last, because he really was curious.
Xavi laughed, and any lingering tension vanished. "Victor really loves you, you know."
"Yeah, I do." Andres yawned hugely and audibly, then winced. "Sorry."
"Go to sleep," Xavi said fondly, and so he did.
*
The next morning, Andres could tell that both Xavi and Victor were making a concerted effort to seem as normal as possible, joking around and nagging him to eat breakfast respectively, but really he didn't think it was necessary. The dizziness was completely gone, he'd slept off the exhaustion, and neither he nor Xavi felt nauseous at all. Things were normal. Andres just wanted to get on the pitch.
When they got to Camp Nou, Rijkaard had the two of them working separately from the squad while Emili kept an eye on them. They played together for hours, no goal, no opposing team, just running together with the ball. Andres kept his head down and still knew exactly where Xavi was, exactly where he would be. He could have been blindfolded and it wouldn't have made a difference. He didn't want to stop for lunch; he wanted to stay there forever with nothing in his mind but the ball and the pitch and Xavi, making pass after pass after impossibly perfect pass.
*
Emili was right, and the bond stopped invading Andres' consciousness every waking moment, although he wasn't sure that it was getting weaker so much as he was getting used to having Xavi somewhere in the back of his head. But Xavi could also shut him out, sometimes, which was maybe supposed to keep from disturbing him when they weren't playing but felt awful. It was like he'd suddenly gone blind or deaf, and Andres hated it. Xavi did it the night after that first practice together and Andres got so dizzy he almost fainted again, and woke up in the middle of the night with horrible dreams about someone cutting off his feet.
He didn't say anything, because Xavi must have had his reasons, but when he did it again the next night, Andres cracked after a few hours and called him. "Please stop it," he said in a rush when Xavi picked up the phone. Xavi had promised - promised -
"What?" Xavi said, sounding startled, and let him back in again. Xavi was - Xavi was worried about something, he could feel that now. He didn't like the feeling of Xavi's anxiety buzzing around in his head, but it was still a million times better than the blankness that had been there before. "Oh, fuck."
"I'm sorry," Andres blurted, "but I can't - please don't."
"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Xavi said, horrified. "I didn't think - I have to cut everyone else off, I'd go crazy if I knew where they all were off the pitch, too. I didn't realize - "
"I'm not everyone else, I'm your bondmate," Andres said, and maybe he was more upset about it than he'd realized, because he was starting to get hysterical. "You can't - "
"I won't," Xavi said. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Andresito, it's all right, I'm sorry, I'll stop. Breathe." Andres could feel Xavi frantically trying to sort of fling reassurance at him from across the city. It wasn't working, but it was still a little comforting to realize that he wasn't the only one muddling through this - sometimes Xavi didn't have a clue either. "Do you - would you feel better if I was there?" Xavi asked uncertainly, when Andres had calmed down. "I could drive over."
"It's half an hour just to get to the city from your parents' place, and it's late," Andres pointed out. "And anyway, I'm fine."
"Fine my ass, you were almost crying a minute ago," Xavi muttered.
"I was not crying," Andres said indignantly.
"No? Good, I'm pretty sure that was somewhere near the top of the list of things Victor will kill me for."
"Xavi."
"Andres," Xavi mimicked. Andres could hear a faint rustling sound and knew without thinking about it that Xavi was in bed. "Are you sure you don't want me to come over? The drive really isn't that bad at night." The enormous yawn he let out immediately afterward somewhat undermined his offer.
"I'm pretty sure if you fall asleep behind the wheel and crash your car I'll be more upset, not less," Andres said.
"Don't be such a brat," Xavi said, and yawned again. "I don't even know why I'm so tired. It's not like we've been training very hard."
"Emili said this could happen for the next couple of weeks. Weren't you listening when he was talking about side-effects?" Xavi hummed noncommittally, and Andres sighed. "You're going to have to tell me what's been bothering you sooner or later, you know."
"Maybe tomorrow," Xavi said, after a long pause. He didn't say anything after that, but he didn't hang up the phone, either. Andres fell asleep listening to Xavi's breathing. He didn't remember his dreams.
*
The next day was when Emili had said they could go back to training with the team. He'd thrown in some pleased noises about how well they were progressing, too, but Andres had mostly been paying attention to how tense Xavi was. He was even worse in the locker room in the morning. Andres stuck close to Victor like always, but he tried to keep an eye on Xavi. He seemed fine; he joked around a lot with Carles and they both were sort of half-heartedly teasing Leo, who'd been called up to train with the first team so many times they'd all lost count but hadn't quite lost the wide eyes yet. If Andres hadn't been able to feel that Xavi's stomach was a mess of knots, he wouldn't have known anything was wrong. And he still didn't know what it was.
They weren't paired up for stretching so he couldn't ask then, and they weren't even put on the same team for five-a-side. Andres had decided to just corner Xavi at lunch, and forget about it until then, when they started playing and he was hit with a wave of relief from Xavi so strong it almost knocked him over. He lost the ball, and Xavi's team scored.
Leo ran over to Andres, his eyes even bigger than usual. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Should I get a physio?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Andres said, and ruffled his hair. "I wasn't paying attention, that's all. Come on, now we've got to equalize." Xavi had the ball. Andres saw where he was going to pass it, intercepted, passed to Leo. Leo scored. Xavi made a face at him and mouthed, "cheater," but Andres just grinned. As much as he loved running around with Xavi, he'd missed playing football.
Xavi's team won in the end, but Andres was still smiling as they all jogged off for a water break. Leo was sulking a little and both Deco and Ronaldinho were trying to tease him out of it, and Andres was only a few years older than Leo but he couldn't even remember being that young. It was hard not to feel optimistic about the future when you were watching Leo grow up day by day.
"Good game," Xavi said behind him. "Even if you did cheat."
"You did too," Andres said, and leaned backwards into Xavi, knowing he could support his weight for a moment. "Are you going to tell me what that was about?"
It was a sincere question and Xavi considered it as such, although Andres realized after a moment that his wording had been harsher than he'd intended. "Emili said they weren't sure how I would react to the bonding," he said eventually. "Because they've never seen anyone who could hear everyone the way I can. He said there was a possibility I wouldn't be sensitive to anyone but you anymore. It wasn't a big possibility, or else the míster wouldn't have gone ahead with it, but they didn't know for sure. Anyway, it turned out fine, so I guess there was nothing to worry about."
"But - Guardiola," Andres said, choosing not to voice his immediate thought of why didn't you tell me, because he knew already, and he wouldn't like the answer any better if Xavi said it out loud. "Guardiola was bonded."
"Oh," Xavi said. He sounded startled. "I forgot that you never played with him. Pep isn't like me, he's not sensitive. He told me once that he could barely even feel Figo, and they'd been bonded for almost four years then. Pep is loud. He couldn't hear anyone, but we could all hear him."
Andres thought about that for a minute, still leaning into Xavi's shoulder. He was thirsty, a little, but he didn't want to interrupt their conversation to go get a drink. Xavi handed over his half-full water bottle without comment. "When Figo left," Andres said. "And everyone was… everyone was so angry, and upset. My roommates got into fights. A lot of the students had nightmares."
"I still don't know if Pep knew he was doing that," Xavi admitted. "I wanted to ask him, but - I mean, he wouldn't have done it on purpose. It's not like he wanted anyone to get hurt. He wouldn't have wanted the fans to throw things at Luis in Camp Nou. But Luis was the one we would have asked to get him to stop." He rested his forehead on the back of Andres' head for a moment, then gently pushed him away and started walking towards the rest of the team. "Pep said he forgave Luis. He said he understood why he left. I don't know if it was true. I wouldn't have."
Andres grabbed Xavi's arm. "All right. But I'm your bondmate, and I'm not going to leave. So don't ever keep secrets from me again." He glared when Xavi turned around to stare at him, and jogged off to join Victor too quickly for Xavi to say anything in reply. After a moment he realized he still had Xavi's water bottle, but under the circumstances he thought it probably served Xavi right.
"What was that?" Victor asked, surprised.
"Nothing," Andres spat, then shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not - Xavi didn't tell me something he should have, that's all. It'll be fine."
"Do I need to threaten him some more?" Victor sounded at least half-serious.
Andres laughed and leaned into Victor's hand when he ruffled his hair. "Violence is never the answer, asshole. Come on, the míster is calling." He finished off Xavi's water and put it aside, then let Victor shepherd him into the clump of defenders standing to Rijkaard's left. He could feel Xavi looking at him, but the coach was talking and Andres couldn't spare the concentration to figure out what he was thinking.
Xavi came over to him when the míster finished, and the five-a-side teams had been reshuffled so they were on the same one and Victor wasn't; Andres couldn't avoid him. "I didn't - "
"Please, can we just play," Andres interrupted. "I'll talk to you after practice, but just. Please." He was so angry with Xavi, and he didn't like being angry - he hated it, actually, and it almost made him angrier at Xavi that he had to feel this way. He could tell it was upsetting Xavi too, which only made it worse, but it was important, and he couldn't just let it go.
"Okay," Xavi said. He started to reach out to touch Andres' shoulder or maybe his cheek, but he let his hand fall before it got even halfway. "Okay."
It was fine while they were playing. As soon as the ball was in play nothing else mattered, and Andres' passes to Xavi were as impossibly perfect as ever. It still didn't make him any less furious once practice was over, and he was kind of glad that Emili showed up and dragged him off for a quick check-up before Xavi could corner him.
It only took a few minutes - Emili just wanted to check his blood pressure and pupil dilation and cluck a little about getting enough sleep - and then he was asking if he had any questions and somehow Andres couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "Why didn't you tell me what the bonding could do to Xavi?"
Emili blinked at him. Andres was pretty sure Emili had never seen him look angry before. "About the potential for reducing his sensitivity to other players, you mean? I do have to respect doctor-patient confidentiality, you know," he said mildly. "And Xavi asked me to let him tell you himself."
"Of course he did," Andres muttered. "Of course he - if something is going to hurt him or make him sick or anything, I want to know. I want you to tell me right away. He's my bondmate and I need to know."
"Ah," Emili said. He was doing a remarkable job of not looking at Andres as if he was having a psychotic break, but Andres wouldn't have blamed him for thinking it. "Well, you could have have the club lawyers draw up papers to make you medical proxies for each other. It isn't how things are usually handled but I think there's some precedent. Xavi would have to be willing to sign them, though."
"Oh, he'll be willing," Andres said grimly.
"I… see." Emili busied himself with putting away his sphygmomanometer and flashlight, presumably to give himself time to control his expression. Andres hated himself a little bit, and Xavi a little bit more. "It's extremely unlikely that there will be any other effects from your bonding, though. I know your initial reaction was a little - strong, but we did look into it for anything that could be a medical issue, and it was only because you two are unusually compatible. It won't cause any problems later on."
"Shouldn't you have expected that?" Andres asked, a little skeptical. "I mean, it's Xavi."
"Sensitive and compatible are not the same thing. It is a common misconception, but you should have been taught that at La Masia," Emili lectured. "Xavi is very sensitive and also incompatible with almost every player who has ever passed through Barcelona. If you hadn't agreed I would never have allowed Rijkaard to have him bonded. With any other player on the current team it could have killed him or driven him insane."
Andres thought he was actually past the point where he could get any angrier with Xavi. It was just - useless. "Oh. But there's no risk of that now."
"Oh, no - Andres, there's nothing to worry about. Everything is perfectly fine with both of you. You shouldn't be fretting yourself." Emili smiled at him reassuringly. "Now, off you go, before you miss lunch completely. I didn't mean to keep you so long."
Andres didn't feel capable of speaking normally to any of his teammates, so he headed straight to the parking garage. He could drive home, have lunch, and hopefully by the time he had to be back for the afternoon session he wouldn't want to strangle his bondmate quite so badly. It was a wasted effort, though, because Xavi was sitting on the hood of his car waiting for him. "Hey," Xavi said.
"Hey," Andres said flatly.
Xavi winced. He met Andres' eyes for a second, then looked down at his hands. "I didn't - I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."
"I know you're sorry. I don't stop hearing you just because I'm pissed at you. I know you didn't mean to. But, I mean - Xavi," Andres said, helplessly, because it was so hard to stay angry when he could feel that he was hurting Xavi and that hurt him. He sat on the car, next to Xavi but not touching him. "Xavi, do you even understand why I'm mad? If you won't trust me, there's no point in this. Okay? You have to trust me."
"Andresito. I do. I will. I know I'm not - good at telling you things sometimes. But I'll try to be better. I promise, I do trust you." Xavi glanced over at Andres, looking pathetic and sad and hopeful, and if Andres hadn't been able to feel how much he meant it he would have shoved him off the car for trying to pull those puppy eyes on him.
"You'd better," he said firmly, and couldn't help smiling when Xavi sagged a little in relief. "Because we're going to be amazing."
"Fucking amazing," Xavi corrected.
Andres laughed. He looked down at Xavi's hand resting on the car between them, and before he could think about it he reached out to catch it in his own. "Fucking amazing," he agreed. He could feel Xavi's confidence and his love running through his blood like oxygen, and in that moment he had never believed anything as much as he believed that he and Xavi would be invincible.
notes: Most of this is obviously completely made-up - hello, soulbonding fic! But Emili Ricart really is one of the Barcelona physios (1:24-1:52), Xavi Hernandez and Andres Iniesta really do have an astonishing on-pitch connection (7:32-8:04) that has led some journalists to describe them as "footballing soulmates" and Victor Valdes really is Andres Iniesta's best friend. They've known each other since they were roommates in Andres' first year at La Masia, when he was in fact still crying himself to sleep over how much he missed his parents. (The part about Victor mother-henning him to death is pure speculative fiction, though.) Title and cut-text are from the song "Say Hey (I Love You)" by Michael Franti & Spearhead.
title: the best luck I had was you
fandom: football RPF
pairing: Xavi/Iniesta preslash
rating: G
word count: 7500
summary: The year is 2004 and the setting is Camp Nou: the coach is Frank Rijkaard, the president is Joan Laporta, and the midfielders are just a little bit psychic.
notes: originally written for the soul-bonding prompt at footballkink. dear OP, thank you for an awesome idea! and bless you, tabacoychanel, for betaing this and putting up with me. ♥ forever! (and since a few people have asked: for further reference, beyond what's in the footnotes, my Barcelona primer is here to inform you about who these people are and why you should care that they're so obviously in love.)
the best luck I had was you
When Andres was at La Masia, they told the students that Cruyff was the first person to use bonding in football. It wasn't exactly true, but it was close enough - Cruyff was the first person to figure out how to make it work. People had tried before, but unless you were even a little sensitive nothing happened, and then if you were sensitive but you got bonded to the wrong partner, it drove you both crazy. Supposedly a couple of Dutch players in the second division had killed themselves, and after that nobody was interested in trying anymore. Then there was Cruyff, and the Dream Team. Of course, it all collapsed so suddenly and so spectacularly that even if anyone had worked out why the team sometimes seemed able to read each other's minds, there would have been no attempt at imitation. The physios at La Masia still tested everyone who came through the system for compatibility, but the youth coaches would never make any of them bond anymore.
Andres had been tested, just like all his classmates. He was a little sensitive - most of them were, if they started training early enough - but nothing special. Nothing like Guardiola had been, or Xavi was, anyway. Xavi wasn't bonded to anyone but he could hear everyone on the pitch; the physios said he was the most sensitive player they'd ever seen. Andres could barely feel that his teammates were there at all, even during games, when there was so much adrenaline running through them that they were practically screaming their thoughts at each other. Sometimes when he got really nervous he could sense Victor in the back of his mind, trying to stay calm, but that was it, and they'd played together for so long that if they hadn't been able to feel each other at all it would have been unusual. Nobody in their right mind would bond a goalkeeper to a midfielder, anyway. Andres worried about plenty of things when he started playing for the first team, but bonding with one of his teammates wasn't one of them.
*
Andres thought it must mean something strange when he saw that the míster had assigned him to room with Xavi. Xavi had looked after him a little when van Gaal gave him his start with the first team, but he hadn't had to do anything like that in a while (Andres wasn't a baby), and inasmuch as they had regular roommates for away games, Andres was usually with Victor. Xavi roomed with Puyi most of the time. If everyone had been moved around that would be one thing, but it was just the four of them who had switched.
He didn't know what was going on, and it only made him more nervous when Xavi asked while they were unpacking if they could talk after dinner. Victor kept shooting him worried looks while they ate; Andres didn't really notice until Victor kicked him under the table and muttered, "Finish your food," but when he looked down at his plate, he realized he'd been pushing his dinner around without actually eating it. He tried to act more normally after that, but he was pretty sure Victor wasn't buying it.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Victor asked quietly, as they got up from the table. "Do you want me to get one of the physios for you?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Andres said, glancing around for something - anything - to distract Victor's attention. Once he got his teeth into an idea, he would never let it go, and if he decided that Andres wasn't feeling well, he was perfectly capable of making life unlivable for their entire away trip with his smothering brand of solicitude. When Andres actually was sick or injured, it could be kind of nice to have Victor keeping everyone else off his back, but things were complicated enough already with whatever was happening with Xavi. The last thing Andres needed was Victor trying to protect him from the rest of the team.
"Sorry to interrupt," Xavi said. Andres hadn't seen him coming up behind them, and jumped. "But I need to borrow Andrew."
"Well, don't keep him up too late," Victor admonished, his eyes crinkling up in a smile. He started to walk away, past Andres, and leaned in to add more seriously in his ear, "I mean it, make sure you get enough sleep."
"Yes, mother," Andres sighed. Victor grinned again and wandered off towards Carles and Oleguer.
"Trouble?" Xavi inquired.
Andres blinked. "Oh. No, just, Victor… worries."
"It's not a bad thing, Andresito," Xavi said, smiling. "Shall we?"
Xavi didn't seem to mind the silence as they made their way up to their room, but Andres was nearly squirming by the time the door was shut behind them. "Should Carles be here too?" he blurted out.
Xavi turned to stare at him. "Puyi? Why?"
"If it's… I don't know, captain things, or…"
"Oh - oh." Xavi fumbled behind himself for the bed and sat down, still watching Andres and now frowning a little. "It's not anything like - Andrew, you didn't do anything wrong. You're not in trouble."
Andres let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "But then why - "
"No, it's - it's about me." Xavi looked away, his expression irritated and almost - embarrassed? But Xavi was never embarrassed about anything. "I don't really know… well, anyway. The míster thinks I need to get bonded," he said bluntly.
"Oh," Andres said. "I thought - wait, with me? But - I mean, Leo - "
"Leo," Xavi muttered. He looked even more annoyed, and Andres cringed a little internally. "Our brilliant little idiot. Well, Rijkaard thought about that too, except it turns out that Leo went ahead and bonded himself back at La Masia, so now he can't. And of course it was with Fabregas and Pique," he went on, "and they didn't want to get him into trouble for bonding without permission or supervision or the remotest shred of common sense, so nobody mentioned that to the staff before both of them went to England. I could wring their fucking necks."
"To Cesc and Gerard?" Andres asked, ignoring the rest of it, because it wasn't really relevant. "Is that even possible?"
"Apparently, if you do it young enough," Xavi said, rolling his eyes. "I think it was mostly Fabregas, anyway. We asked one of the physios at La Masia and he said Cesc was always the sensitive on the team. Leo certainly isn't." He paused, then added with a sigh, "I don't know, maybe it's for the best, really. If Leo weren't already bonded I think the míster would have made him bond with Ronnie. Never mind that he's too young, and if that was the only way he'd ever played on the first team he'd be crippled when Ronnie retires."
"Is that why - now - "
Xavi shook his head, and then sighed again when Andres flinched. "Look, just - here, sit down. You don't need to hover. And to be honest I don't know why now, except that the míster thinks we need it." He hesitated, then added, "Van Gaal wanted to have me bonded when I made the first team, you know. Guardiola wouldn't let him. He said I was too young. And then, after… well." He didn't add that Guardiola had had his own reasons for caution, but he didn't have to. The players who were there when Figo left were not about to forget. Andres hadn't been on the senior team, but even at La Masia they'd felt the backlash.
"I just don't understand why me," Andres said quietly. He kept his gaze on his hands in his lap, and twitched when Xavi tugged at his chin, trying to get him to turn around.
"Andresito. It doesn't have to be you if you don't want it. I will go to Rijkaard and tell him no, and we'll never say anything about it again. I won't let them force you into anything. I didn't - you're so young," Xavi added, randomly. "I don't know how to - to say, or - you don't have to do this. But if I'm going to bond with anyone, I'd rather it was you."
Andres finally gave in to Xavi's grip on his face, and turned to look at him. He looked worried, and maybe even upset, and Andres abruptly realized that Xavi - Xavi, who had been his protector and idol and almost a big brother for years - was scared. Paradoxically, that made him feel a lot better.
Xavi was still talking, something about not wanting to pressure him into anything he didn't want. The words weren't really important, so Andres thought it would be all right to interrupt. "Okay."
"…and nobody would - wait, what?"
"You can tell the míster I said yes. It's okay so long as it's you."
Xavi stopped dead for a moment, completely frozen. Then he brought up his other hand up to cup Andres' cheek, and hold his face still. "You don't have to do this."
"If it will help the team, then I want to," Andres said firmly. "The míster wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary. And I trust you."
"You can't undo this, if we do it," Xavi said, as if he hadn't heard him. And as if Andres hadn't had all the same lessons on bonding at La Masia that he had, for that matter. "And it's dangerous. Sometimes things go wrong, still. Sometimes people leave. You can't just - just decide to trust someone like that."
"It's not someone, it's you," Andres pointed out. "Are you going to leave?"
"What? Don't be stupid," Xavi said reflexively. "I'll be at Barça till I retire."
"It's all right, then." Andres smiled and covered Xavi's hands on his cheeks with his own. "You can let me think about it and ask again in a week, if it makes you feel better. But I'm going to say yes." He squeezed his fingers around Xavi's palms, then ducked out of his suddenly-loose grip and went to get ready for bed. They had a game tomorrow, and God knew Victor would nag like a fishwife if he didn't get a good night's sleep.
*
Andres didn't exactly plan on telling Victor about his conversation with Xavi so much as it came tumbling out of his mouth during lunch after an otherwise unremarkable mid-week practice. He wasn't sure why; he'd made up his mind, and he didn't need advice. But he couldn't tell his parents, and it felt like the kind of thing he should talk to someone about. Victor was probably the closest thing he had to family on the team, aside from Xavi himself.
"Oh," Victor said. He sounded remarkably unsurprised. "Well, I guess that makes sense. We don't have any pairs on the first team right now, and if the míster wants Xavi bonded, you're pretty much the only option."
"What?" That was not the line of reasoning Andres had expected him to pursue. "But - Leo, or - "
"Leo's too young," Victor said, ticking off on his fingers. "Deco's too old. Ronnie, Samu and Ludo probably aren't compatible with anyone, even Xavi. Olegeur or Puyi, maybe, but I don't think it would be all that helpful tactically. I'm a goalkeeper. And it's probably better to keep it in the academy, after what happened with - well, anyway. So that leaves you." He seemed to realize that that could have sounded a little insulting and added, "Not that you wouldn't be a good bondmate anyway."
Andres laughed. "I don't think it works that way, but - " His phone rang. Andres wasn't expecting any calls, but it could have been the club, or his family with an emergency, so he shot Victor an apologetic look and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Ah, hello, is this Andres?"
"Yes…" Andres frowned. He didn't think it was some journalist who'd gotten hold of his personal number, but - "Who is this?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have - this is Pep Guardiola, Xavi gave me your number and asked me to call you. I know we haven't really spoken before but he thought you might have some questions I could answer?"
"Um," Andres said, because Guardiola. Guardiola. He'd been a stammering mess for hours after the first time he'd met him as a child, and it didn't feel all that different now that he was theoretically mature enough to handle talking to his idols.
"He mentioned that you were thinking about getting bonded," Guardiola prompted, when the silence stretched awkwardly on.
"Oh, um, yes. But, uh, no, I mean, I'm not thinking about it, I decided, so, uh. I don't have any questions? But, um, thank you for offering?" Victor had both hands clamped over his mouth, trying not to laugh, and fled the kitchen when Andres kicked at his shins repeatedly. Andres could still hear him snickering in the next room.
"Ah, I see. You should probably tell Xavi if you've decided against it, he's very worried, you know," Guardiola said.
"What? No, I mean, I decided to do it, I told him that, he wouldn't listen but he's just being Xavi, you know, I'll have to tell him a few more times before he believes me, that's all," Andres rambled, unable to stop himself until he heard Guardiola chuckling.
"I understand. But Andres, I'm very glad to hear that Xavi is being so responsible with you. It's a big decision, and one that you don't want to regret making."
"Ye-es," Andres said slowly. He didn't want to offend Guardiola, but - "We all had the lessons at La Masia. But it's Xavi, so… it's not a decision I'm worried about."
"In that case, I think Xavi will suit you very well," Guardiola said. He sounded serious, but also pleased about something. "My best wishes for your bonding, Andres, and also my congratulations, because I have no doubt it will be a success. If you're sure you don't want to ask me anything, I'll let you get back to your day."
"Actually - " Andres started, then swallowed.
"Go ahead," Guardiola said. "Whatever it is, I won't mind."
Andres bit his lip, but it wasn't like he'd ever get a chance to ask again. "Do you regret it?"
Guardiola exhaled slowly. "You certainly don't ask easy questions. No, don't apologize, it's a good thing to ask." He paused for a moment. "I wish it had ended differently. There are things I said, things I did, that I wish I could change. But if I could go back and change that decision, I wouldn't. I wouldn't have even when he had just left. My bonding is not something I have ever regretted."
"That's all I wanted to ask," Andres said quietly. "Thank you."
"If I have been of any help at all, I'm glad. Tell Xavi I'm happy for you both. And I look forward to watching you play."
Andres hung up the phone and stared at it until Victor wandered back in. "Xavi getting cold feet already? Maybe you should keep looking for a better bondmate," he said, grinning. Andres looked up at him, more worried than amused.
"It would have been you, if you weren't a goalkeeper, you know that," he said, as if that would make it better.
Victor snorted. "Andres, I've known you since you were twelve and cried yourself to sleep every night because you missed your mother. I don't need to be bonded to you. I can already read your mind."
*
There were a lot of things to take care of even after Andres said yes a second time (and then a third time because Xavi didn't listen the second time either) - the physios checked every detail of their medical records about five times and redid all their blood tests to make sure neither of them was going to catch something from the other, and there was even a mandatory counseling session to make sure they knew what they were getting into - but the actual bonding was a bit of an anticlimax. "You both have someone to take you home, right," Emili said absent-mindedly, most of his attention on whatever arcane medical preparations he had to make, in the physios' office after practice. It was the Monday after a league match, and they'd already been knocked out of the Cup, so there wasn't a mid-week game. "Because you could be very disoriented and you shouldn't drive for a day or two."
"Victor's waiting for me in the parking lot," Andres said.
Xavi glanced up quickly, then back down at his hands. "Carles said he'd hang around and see if I needed a hand."
"Even if you think you feel fine, let him drive," Emili said firmly. "You have a long trip and if you get dizzy suddenly you could crash your car. When you get home you should rest for a few hours. Nausea, vertigo and tinnitus are completely normal reactions, and you may get tired more easily than usual for a few days, even weeks, but if you aren't feeling well when you wake up tomorrow call me right away."
"Okay," Andres said. Xavi grunted, and Andres kicked him in the ankle. He understood that Xavi still wasn't entirely happy about getting bonded, but Emili was just trying to take care of them.
"I will," Xavi said. This time when he lifted his head he kept it up long enough to smile at Emili and pat Andres on the hand. Andres didn't particularly need the reassurance, but he supposed the gesture didn't hurt.
"Good, good. Now, give me your arm …" Emili drew a vial of blood from each of them, did something to it involving an unnaturally blue liquid in a test tube, and then took out fresh syringes and gave them both an injection. The entire process took less than five minutes.
"Wait, is that it?" Andres asked, when Emili didn't start any other medical procedure. He didn't feel any different, except for the weird blurriness at the edges of his vision, and the humming sound that… oh.
"Shit, Andrew! Andrew, wake up!" Andres blinked his eyes open. The world was still kaleidoscoping around him in very interesting colors, and for some reason he appeared to be lying on the floor, but he knew the fuzzy lump in front of his face was Xavi. He closed his eyes again, because the dancing lights were starting to make him nauseous, but he still knew exactly where Xavi was. He was pretty sure that they could be standing at opposite ends of a completely dark football pitch and he would know exactly where Xavi was. He could feel Xavi inside his head - his bare knees on the cold tile floor, the sore spot on his arm where Emili had stuck the needle, and the way he was genuinely starting to panic over Andres' fainting fit.
"'M okay," Andres mumbled, trying and failing to sit up. He felt a wave of relief wash over Xavi and squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, as if he could somehow make his new Xavi-sense get quieter by shutting off his normal ones. God, did Xavi feel like this all the time? How had he not gone crazy?
"I don't," Xavi said. "It's… I don't know, spatial with the others. I just know where they are. This is different. Oh, fuck, no, close your eyes again, that is so fucking weird…" Andres both felt and heard him stagger to his feet and retch into the sink.
"The nausea should pass soon," Emili said with great professionalism. "You're having a stronger reaction than most people, that's all."
"Great," Xavi muttered. His mouth tasted disgusting, Andres thought vaguely. He managed to scoot over to where Xavi was standing without looking, grabbed Xavi's bare ankle and held on for dear life. He felt a little less like he was going to throw up as soon as he opened his eyes, so he tried again.
The spinning colors were slowing down, at least. Andres focused his eyes on the fabric of Xavi's shorts, and let his brain sort out what he was actually seeing from what he was getting from Xavi. "It's not too bad," he said at last. "Here, just - " and before he could even reach up Xavi was leaning down to grip his free hand.
"Up you go," he said. Moving briefly made the dizziness worse, but Andres was upright and Xavi was clinging just as hard to him, so he didn't feel too embarrassed. "Don't be silly," Xavi added, "why would you be?" The words were accompanied by a surge of affectionate reassurance that made Andres hide his face in Xavi's shoulder until he stopped blushing.
"Once you get used to it, the bond should stop being so… intrusive," Emili said. "It may take a few days, though. I'll speak with the coach about letting you train separately from the rest of the team until you get your coordination back. I've never seen such an immediate reaction," he went on, clearly distracted. "I wonder if there's something in your bloodwork that would explain it… well, anyway. Do you think you can make it to the parking lot, or would you like to rest in the infirmary for a while?"
Andres gingerly stepped back from Xavi, though he kept a tight grip on his hand. "I don't want to leave Victor out there for too long. He'll start to worry."
Emili nodded. "Well, he'll get you home safe, I know. Remember, if you're not feeling better in the morning, call me!" He kissed both Andres and Xavi on the forehead and turned back to his work, leaving them to make their slow, unsteady way out of Camp Nou.
Victor and Carles were both hanging out in the parking lot, leaning against Victor's car. They looked like they were having a pretty good time talking to each other, right up until Victor looked up and noticed Xavi and Andres coming towards them. Andres had never seen Victor's mother-hen instinct kick in that quickly, and concluded that he probably looked like absolute shit. "It went fine," he said, pre-empting Victor's inevitable interrogation, as Victor came over to help at the fastest pace possible that could still be called a walk. Between him and Xavi Andres managed to stagger to Victor's car without any mishaps, although he could already tell the late afternoon sunlight was going to give him a headache. Xavi dug in his jacket pocket and came up with a pair of sunglasses that he handed over without comment.
"So?" Carles asked, grinning. Andres supposed they all took their amusement where they could find it, but he wished his teammates didn't find watching Victor smother him half to death with well-meaning attention quite so hilarious.
"It went fine," he repeated.
"For varying definitions of fine," Xavi amended. "Andresito here fainted. Fell right out of his chair."
Andres wanted very much to kick Xavi, but he could still feel the echo of how badly he'd scared him earlier, so he settled instead for pointing out, "Well, Xavi threw up."
Carles laughed. "An auspicious beginning, eh? Nowhere to go but up. Well. Am I driving you straight home, then?"
Andres instinctively clutched harder at Xavi's hand, and then wanted to kick himself. Xavi didn't even look over at him, but he said, as if casually, "I think I'll stick with Andrew for a while, make sure he's settled. Sorry to make you wait for nothing, Puyi."
Victor eyed them both for a minute, then shrugged. "Look, Andres looks like he might pass out again and my place is closer than his anyway. I'll take you back there to rest, and if you're feeling better later, we can have dinner together. My guest bedroom is big enough for both of you. I'd have to go pick up Andres for practice tomorrow morning anyway, it saves me the extra drive." He unlocked the back door of the car and held it open. "You should come too, Puyi. Keep me company while they're sleeping."
Carles and Victor kept talking, but Andres stopped paying attention at that point and just collapsed gratefully into the backseat of Victor's car. Xavi slid in beside him, close enough that Andres didn't have to stretch to put his head on Xavi's shoulder, and the world went comfortably blurry for a while. He faded back into consciousness a few times - he remembered a familiar song on the radio, and Victor talking quietly to Xavi as he drove, and even Xavi taking his sunglasses off and then the weight of Xavi's hand on the nape of his neck - but for the most part the trip to Victor's was a warm fuzzy blank. He woke up long enough to stumble into the house and landed face-first on the bed in the guest bedroom less than a minute afterwards.
He couldn't quite vocalize what he wanted with a mouthful of pillow, but Xavi was curled up next to him before he could even really try, and then Andres was asleep again.
*
The sun had long since set when Andres finally resurfaced. The room was unfamiliar but he knew without having to think about it that the arm thrown across him was Xavi's. Andres lay quietly for a moment, reminding himself that Emili had promised the bond would stop being so overwhelming eventually, and climbed out of bed to go look for Victor.
He found him in the kitchen, reading the newspaper at the table. "Hey," Andres said, and put his hands on Victor's shoulders. Victor didn't jump.
"Hey yourself," he offered, twisting around a little to look up at Andres. "You missed Puyi, he left a couple hours ago. Are you hungry? We ate already, but we saved some for you and Xavi."
"I think I'll wait till I know I'm not going to be throwing up tomorrow," Andres said. "It won't kill me to go hungry for one night."
"Suit yourself," Victor sighed, sounding martyred as usual by Andres' refusal to take proper care of himself. "Where's Xavi, anyway?"
"Still sleeping. It's not like he was fainting all over the place, I don't know why he's so tired," Andres added with a soft laugh.
Victor hesitated, then patted Andres' hands. "He was up for a while watching you after you passed out. I talked to him a little."
"Victor!" Andres hissed. "He's our vice-captain and my bondmate, you are not allowed to threaten Xavi."
"I didn't threaten him," Victor said, with an eyeroll that Andres could actually hear in his voice even if he couldn't see it. "We just talked."
"But you're not going to tell me about what, right," Andres said.
"Right."
Andres sighed. He could probably pester whatever it was out of Victor, given enough time, but he wasn't sure it was worth it, and anyway Xavi was waking up. "All right. I'll be right back."
"Go back to bed! It's after midnight!" Victor called after him. "If you oversleep and make me late to practice tomorrow morning I will kill you!"
Andres smiled to himself all the way back to Victor's guest bedroom. In the light from the hallway, he could just barely make out Xavi sitting up in the middle of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"All right. Still tired, I think. You?"
"Well, I don't think I'll have any trouble getting back to sleep," Andres said wryly. He sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitated. "Can I?"
"You don't have to ask. You don't ever have to ask, you understand?" Even in the dark, Andres could feel Xavi's eyes fixed on him, but he shrugged them off and lay down so that his face was tucked against Xavi's shoulder. Xavi immediately wrapped an arm around him, pulling him even closer. "I will give you anything you need, Andresito," Xavi said, soft and serious, like a promise. "Anything you want. Everything. You never have to ask."
There was absolutely nothing Andres could say in reply to that, so he let the words die away into a silence that wasn't as awkward as it could have been. He knew Xavi knew what he felt; really, he didn't need to say anything at all. "So Victor said he talked to you while I was asleep," he offered at last, because he really was curious.
Xavi laughed, and any lingering tension vanished. "Victor really loves you, you know."
"Yeah, I do." Andres yawned hugely and audibly, then winced. "Sorry."
"Go to sleep," Xavi said fondly, and so he did.
*
The next morning, Andres could tell that both Xavi and Victor were making a concerted effort to seem as normal as possible, joking around and nagging him to eat breakfast respectively, but really he didn't think it was necessary. The dizziness was completely gone, he'd slept off the exhaustion, and neither he nor Xavi felt nauseous at all. Things were normal. Andres just wanted to get on the pitch.
When they got to Camp Nou, Rijkaard had the two of them working separately from the squad while Emili kept an eye on them. They played together for hours, no goal, no opposing team, just running together with the ball. Andres kept his head down and still knew exactly where Xavi was, exactly where he would be. He could have been blindfolded and it wouldn't have made a difference. He didn't want to stop for lunch; he wanted to stay there forever with nothing in his mind but the ball and the pitch and Xavi, making pass after pass after impossibly perfect pass.
*
Emili was right, and the bond stopped invading Andres' consciousness every waking moment, although he wasn't sure that it was getting weaker so much as he was getting used to having Xavi somewhere in the back of his head. But Xavi could also shut him out, sometimes, which was maybe supposed to keep from disturbing him when they weren't playing but felt awful. It was like he'd suddenly gone blind or deaf, and Andres hated it. Xavi did it the night after that first practice together and Andres got so dizzy he almost fainted again, and woke up in the middle of the night with horrible dreams about someone cutting off his feet.
He didn't say anything, because Xavi must have had his reasons, but when he did it again the next night, Andres cracked after a few hours and called him. "Please stop it," he said in a rush when Xavi picked up the phone. Xavi had promised - promised -
"What?" Xavi said, sounding startled, and let him back in again. Xavi was - Xavi was worried about something, he could feel that now. He didn't like the feeling of Xavi's anxiety buzzing around in his head, but it was still a million times better than the blankness that had been there before. "Oh, fuck."
"I'm sorry," Andres blurted, "but I can't - please don't."
"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Xavi said, horrified. "I didn't think - I have to cut everyone else off, I'd go crazy if I knew where they all were off the pitch, too. I didn't realize - "
"I'm not everyone else, I'm your bondmate," Andres said, and maybe he was more upset about it than he'd realized, because he was starting to get hysterical. "You can't - "
"I won't," Xavi said. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Andresito, it's all right, I'm sorry, I'll stop. Breathe." Andres could feel Xavi frantically trying to sort of fling reassurance at him from across the city. It wasn't working, but it was still a little comforting to realize that he wasn't the only one muddling through this - sometimes Xavi didn't have a clue either. "Do you - would you feel better if I was there?" Xavi asked uncertainly, when Andres had calmed down. "I could drive over."
"It's half an hour just to get to the city from your parents' place, and it's late," Andres pointed out. "And anyway, I'm fine."
"Fine my ass, you were almost crying a minute ago," Xavi muttered.
"I was not crying," Andres said indignantly.
"No? Good, I'm pretty sure that was somewhere near the top of the list of things Victor will kill me for."
"Xavi."
"Andres," Xavi mimicked. Andres could hear a faint rustling sound and knew without thinking about it that Xavi was in bed. "Are you sure you don't want me to come over? The drive really isn't that bad at night." The enormous yawn he let out immediately afterward somewhat undermined his offer.
"I'm pretty sure if you fall asleep behind the wheel and crash your car I'll be more upset, not less," Andres said.
"Don't be such a brat," Xavi said, and yawned again. "I don't even know why I'm so tired. It's not like we've been training very hard."
"Emili said this could happen for the next couple of weeks. Weren't you listening when he was talking about side-effects?" Xavi hummed noncommittally, and Andres sighed. "You're going to have to tell me what's been bothering you sooner or later, you know."
"Maybe tomorrow," Xavi said, after a long pause. He didn't say anything after that, but he didn't hang up the phone, either. Andres fell asleep listening to Xavi's breathing. He didn't remember his dreams.
*
The next day was when Emili had said they could go back to training with the team. He'd thrown in some pleased noises about how well they were progressing, too, but Andres had mostly been paying attention to how tense Xavi was. He was even worse in the locker room in the morning. Andres stuck close to Victor like always, but he tried to keep an eye on Xavi. He seemed fine; he joked around a lot with Carles and they both were sort of half-heartedly teasing Leo, who'd been called up to train with the first team so many times they'd all lost count but hadn't quite lost the wide eyes yet. If Andres hadn't been able to feel that Xavi's stomach was a mess of knots, he wouldn't have known anything was wrong. And he still didn't know what it was.
They weren't paired up for stretching so he couldn't ask then, and they weren't even put on the same team for five-a-side. Andres had decided to just corner Xavi at lunch, and forget about it until then, when they started playing and he was hit with a wave of relief from Xavi so strong it almost knocked him over. He lost the ball, and Xavi's team scored.
Leo ran over to Andres, his eyes even bigger than usual. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Should I get a physio?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Andres said, and ruffled his hair. "I wasn't paying attention, that's all. Come on, now we've got to equalize." Xavi had the ball. Andres saw where he was going to pass it, intercepted, passed to Leo. Leo scored. Xavi made a face at him and mouthed, "cheater," but Andres just grinned. As much as he loved running around with Xavi, he'd missed playing football.
Xavi's team won in the end, but Andres was still smiling as they all jogged off for a water break. Leo was sulking a little and both Deco and Ronaldinho were trying to tease him out of it, and Andres was only a few years older than Leo but he couldn't even remember being that young. It was hard not to feel optimistic about the future when you were watching Leo grow up day by day.
"Good game," Xavi said behind him. "Even if you did cheat."
"You did too," Andres said, and leaned backwards into Xavi, knowing he could support his weight for a moment. "Are you going to tell me what that was about?"
It was a sincere question and Xavi considered it as such, although Andres realized after a moment that his wording had been harsher than he'd intended. "Emili said they weren't sure how I would react to the bonding," he said eventually. "Because they've never seen anyone who could hear everyone the way I can. He said there was a possibility I wouldn't be sensitive to anyone but you anymore. It wasn't a big possibility, or else the míster wouldn't have gone ahead with it, but they didn't know for sure. Anyway, it turned out fine, so I guess there was nothing to worry about."
"But - Guardiola," Andres said, choosing not to voice his immediate thought of why didn't you tell me, because he knew already, and he wouldn't like the answer any better if Xavi said it out loud. "Guardiola was bonded."
"Oh," Xavi said. He sounded startled. "I forgot that you never played with him. Pep isn't like me, he's not sensitive. He told me once that he could barely even feel Figo, and they'd been bonded for almost four years then. Pep is loud. He couldn't hear anyone, but we could all hear him."
Andres thought about that for a minute, still leaning into Xavi's shoulder. He was thirsty, a little, but he didn't want to interrupt their conversation to go get a drink. Xavi handed over his half-full water bottle without comment. "When Figo left," Andres said. "And everyone was… everyone was so angry, and upset. My roommates got into fights. A lot of the students had nightmares."
"I still don't know if Pep knew he was doing that," Xavi admitted. "I wanted to ask him, but - I mean, he wouldn't have done it on purpose. It's not like he wanted anyone to get hurt. He wouldn't have wanted the fans to throw things at Luis in Camp Nou. But Luis was the one we would have asked to get him to stop." He rested his forehead on the back of Andres' head for a moment, then gently pushed him away and started walking towards the rest of the team. "Pep said he forgave Luis. He said he understood why he left. I don't know if it was true. I wouldn't have."
Andres grabbed Xavi's arm. "All right. But I'm your bondmate, and I'm not going to leave. So don't ever keep secrets from me again." He glared when Xavi turned around to stare at him, and jogged off to join Victor too quickly for Xavi to say anything in reply. After a moment he realized he still had Xavi's water bottle, but under the circumstances he thought it probably served Xavi right.
"What was that?" Victor asked, surprised.
"Nothing," Andres spat, then shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not - Xavi didn't tell me something he should have, that's all. It'll be fine."
"Do I need to threaten him some more?" Victor sounded at least half-serious.
Andres laughed and leaned into Victor's hand when he ruffled his hair. "Violence is never the answer, asshole. Come on, the míster is calling." He finished off Xavi's water and put it aside, then let Victor shepherd him into the clump of defenders standing to Rijkaard's left. He could feel Xavi looking at him, but the coach was talking and Andres couldn't spare the concentration to figure out what he was thinking.
Xavi came over to him when the míster finished, and the five-a-side teams had been reshuffled so they were on the same one and Victor wasn't; Andres couldn't avoid him. "I didn't - "
"Please, can we just play," Andres interrupted. "I'll talk to you after practice, but just. Please." He was so angry with Xavi, and he didn't like being angry - he hated it, actually, and it almost made him angrier at Xavi that he had to feel this way. He could tell it was upsetting Xavi too, which only made it worse, but it was important, and he couldn't just let it go.
"Okay," Xavi said. He started to reach out to touch Andres' shoulder or maybe his cheek, but he let his hand fall before it got even halfway. "Okay."
It was fine while they were playing. As soon as the ball was in play nothing else mattered, and Andres' passes to Xavi were as impossibly perfect as ever. It still didn't make him any less furious once practice was over, and he was kind of glad that Emili showed up and dragged him off for a quick check-up before Xavi could corner him.
It only took a few minutes - Emili just wanted to check his blood pressure and pupil dilation and cluck a little about getting enough sleep - and then he was asking if he had any questions and somehow Andres couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "Why didn't you tell me what the bonding could do to Xavi?"
Emili blinked at him. Andres was pretty sure Emili had never seen him look angry before. "About the potential for reducing his sensitivity to other players, you mean? I do have to respect doctor-patient confidentiality, you know," he said mildly. "And Xavi asked me to let him tell you himself."
"Of course he did," Andres muttered. "Of course he - if something is going to hurt him or make him sick or anything, I want to know. I want you to tell me right away. He's my bondmate and I need to know."
"Ah," Emili said. He was doing a remarkable job of not looking at Andres as if he was having a psychotic break, but Andres wouldn't have blamed him for thinking it. "Well, you could have have the club lawyers draw up papers to make you medical proxies for each other. It isn't how things are usually handled but I think there's some precedent. Xavi would have to be willing to sign them, though."
"Oh, he'll be willing," Andres said grimly.
"I… see." Emili busied himself with putting away his sphygmomanometer and flashlight, presumably to give himself time to control his expression. Andres hated himself a little bit, and Xavi a little bit more. "It's extremely unlikely that there will be any other effects from your bonding, though. I know your initial reaction was a little - strong, but we did look into it for anything that could be a medical issue, and it was only because you two are unusually compatible. It won't cause any problems later on."
"Shouldn't you have expected that?" Andres asked, a little skeptical. "I mean, it's Xavi."
"Sensitive and compatible are not the same thing. It is a common misconception, but you should have been taught that at La Masia," Emili lectured. "Xavi is very sensitive and also incompatible with almost every player who has ever passed through Barcelona. If you hadn't agreed I would never have allowed Rijkaard to have him bonded. With any other player on the current team it could have killed him or driven him insane."
Andres thought he was actually past the point where he could get any angrier with Xavi. It was just - useless. "Oh. But there's no risk of that now."
"Oh, no - Andres, there's nothing to worry about. Everything is perfectly fine with both of you. You shouldn't be fretting yourself." Emili smiled at him reassuringly. "Now, off you go, before you miss lunch completely. I didn't mean to keep you so long."
Andres didn't feel capable of speaking normally to any of his teammates, so he headed straight to the parking garage. He could drive home, have lunch, and hopefully by the time he had to be back for the afternoon session he wouldn't want to strangle his bondmate quite so badly. It was a wasted effort, though, because Xavi was sitting on the hood of his car waiting for him. "Hey," Xavi said.
"Hey," Andres said flatly.
Xavi winced. He met Andres' eyes for a second, then looked down at his hands. "I didn't - I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."
"I know you're sorry. I don't stop hearing you just because I'm pissed at you. I know you didn't mean to. But, I mean - Xavi," Andres said, helplessly, because it was so hard to stay angry when he could feel that he was hurting Xavi and that hurt him. He sat on the car, next to Xavi but not touching him. "Xavi, do you even understand why I'm mad? If you won't trust me, there's no point in this. Okay? You have to trust me."
"Andresito. I do. I will. I know I'm not - good at telling you things sometimes. But I'll try to be better. I promise, I do trust you." Xavi glanced over at Andres, looking pathetic and sad and hopeful, and if Andres hadn't been able to feel how much he meant it he would have shoved him off the car for trying to pull those puppy eyes on him.
"You'd better," he said firmly, and couldn't help smiling when Xavi sagged a little in relief. "Because we're going to be amazing."
"Fucking amazing," Xavi corrected.
Andres laughed. He looked down at Xavi's hand resting on the car between them, and before he could think about it he reached out to catch it in his own. "Fucking amazing," he agreed. He could feel Xavi's confidence and his love running through his blood like oxygen, and in that moment he had never believed anything as much as he believed that he and Xavi would be invincible.
notes: Most of this is obviously completely made-up - hello, soulbonding fic! But Emili Ricart really is one of the Barcelona physios (1:24-1:52), Xavi Hernandez and Andres Iniesta really do have an astonishing on-pitch connection (7:32-8:04) that has led some journalists to describe them as "footballing soulmates" and Victor Valdes really is Andres Iniesta's best friend. They've known each other since they were roommates in Andres' first year at La Masia, when he was in fact still crying himself to sleep over how much he missed his parents. (The part about Victor mother-henning him to death is pure speculative fiction, though.) Title and cut-text are from the song "Say Hey (I Love You)" by Michael Franti & Spearhead.