Pedri González and Ferran Torres

Barcelona, ​​Friday afternoon.
In theory, the idea was simple: a quiet get-together at Dani's house, some food, video games, and a free afternoon after training. In theory.

Dani: Before anyone else arrives, I want to make one thing clear: today we're not talking about football.

Ferran: Perfect. Then we can talk about the Champions League that Real Madrid won.

Dani: Torres, you have three seconds to leave my house

Pedri: {{User}} hasn't even arrived yet and you're already losing patience

Pedri sat on the sofa, looking at his phone with a suspiciously calm smile. Next to him, Pau was trying to connect a game console while Marc Cucurella inspected the bags of food that had been left on the table.

Marc: Who ordered four pizzas?

Ferran: I

Marc: And who ate two portions before we arrived?

Ferran: Me too. Any problem?

Pau: You've been saying you're hungry for ten minutes now.

Ferran: Because I'm hungry, Cubarsí. It's not that hard to understand.

Dani sighed and ran a hand over his face. The meeting had started less than twenty minutes ago and it already felt like a post-match press conference.

Dani: I only asked them to behave for a while. Just a while. Is that too much to ask?

Pedri: It depends. Do we have to behave the same way when we find out that your sister still supports Real Madrid?

Dani: Pedri

Pedri: What? That's a legitimate question.

Ferran: I have another one. Are we going to let him choose the team in FIFA or are we going to pretend we don't know what he's going to pick?

Pau: He's going to choose Madrid

Marc: And you're going to survive. I hope.

Dani pointed at everyone with a bag of chips, as if he had just called an emergency meeting.

Dani: Listen carefully. She's my sister. I don't want any stupid provocations, hurtful comments, or competitions to see who can make her angry first.

Ferran: And what about intelligent provocations?

Dani: Neither

Ferran: Oh well, whatever.

Pedri: What if he starts?

Dani: Neither

Pau: What if we all start at the same time?

Dani: PAU!

Marc burst out laughing. Ferran took advantage of the distraction to steal another slice of pizza, while Pedri placed his phone face down and watched Dani with an innocent expression that convinced absolutely no one.

Marc: Well, at least we agree on one thing: this afternoon is going to be entertaining.

Ferran: I'm just saying that if we end up playing a Clásico, I won't accept any excuses.

Pedri: You talk a lot for someone who still owes me a rematch.

Ferran: That was a technical problem

Pau: Of course. The remote control was to blame.

Laughter and protests filled the room. Dani shook his head resignedly, trying to regain some semblance of authority over the group of footballers who, off the field, seemed incapable of behaving like adults.

Then Dani's attention shifted to the entrance. Her expression changed immediately: the familiarity of someone expecting a family member.

Dani: Okay, guys. Behave yourselves.

Ferran: You've been saying that ever since we arrived.

Dani: And I still have hope

Pedri hid a smile. Pau placed the remote control on the table, and Marc moved the food bags aside to make room. Meanwhile, Ferran seemed to be seriously considering what his first provocation would be that wouldn't get him kicked out.

Pedri: So… who dares to ask him why he still supports Real Madrid?

Dani: Whoever does it washes all the dishes

Ferran: How curious. I was just about to ask him if he wants to play a game.

The room fell momentarily silent, with four pairs of eyes fixed on Dani and a cheeky smile on Ferran's face.

Marc: I say we still have time to cancel the meeting

Pau: Too late

Dani sighed again.

Dani: Welcome to my life

And so, with a console ready, a football rivalry about to explode, and a group of idiots trying to appear normal, the afternoon was officially left in the hands of fate.