One More?
Pairing: Ferran Torres x Reader
Summary: You catch baby fever.
Warning: Teasing, suggestive.
Word count: 1618
Author's note: I wrote this as a sequel to Back to Us, but you can read it separately.
No lo pienses tanto y bésame Que se acaben los misterios Bésame de una vez Cero miedo, vamo' en serio pa' adelante
It started subtly.
You weren't even aware it was happening at first, until you found yourself staring a little too long at toddlers in the park. Or the way your heart twisted every time Lucia, your four-year-old daughter, wrapped her tiny arms around your neck and whispered, "I love you, Mami."
And Ferran. God, Ferran with Lucia was dangerous. The way he carried her on his shoulders, kissed her forehead, taught her football tricks in the garden like it was his life's purpose. Watching them together made your chest ache in a very specific, very hormonal way.
So maybe you dropped a few comments.
"Look at how cute she is in those pajamas. Imagine a tiny version of her."
Ferran raised an eyebrow. "She is the tiny version."
"No, like… tinier."
He blinked. "You mean a baby?"
"Maybe. Hypothetically."
He gave you a long look, then chuckled. "Oh no. You're catching it."
"Catching what?"
"Baby fever. I knew this would happen."
You tried to play it off with a shrug and a sip of coffee, but the idea had planted itself deep in your heart.
Still, Ferran didn't seem convinced.
Over the next few weeks, you started to be more obvious. Sending him funny baby TikToks. Sighing a little too dramatically when walking by baby clothes in stores. He noticed, of course. Ferran noticed everything.
One evening, as he slid behind you at the kitchen counter, his hands sneaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach, he whispered, "Still thinking about it?"
You leaned back into his chest. "Thinking is a strong word. Dreaming, maybe."
He chuckled against your neck. "You're dangerous when you start dreaming."
You turned around and wrapped your arms around his waist. "One more? Just one."
He leaned in and kissed your forehead. "You say that like it's a puppy."
"You love puppies."
"I also love sleep." You gave him your best pout, and he groaned. "Don't look at me like that. I'm trying to be strong."
You trailed your finger down his chest. "I could wear that outfit again. You know the one."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're playing dirty."
"I learned from the best."
He groaned again and pressed a kiss just under your ear. "We are not having another baby."
You smiled. The game had just begun.
Your flirting turned into teasing. The teasing turned into kisses. The kisses turned into a lot more.
The morning started like any other. Lucia was still asleep in her bed, tangled in her blanket, and Ferran was rushing around trying to find his training top. You leaned against the doorway of your bedroom, biting back a smirk as he huffed and muttered curses.
"You know..." You said sweetly. "I saw your shirt in the laundry room."
He looked up from rifling through drawers, shirtless and already breathless. "You could've told me that five minutes ago."
You shrugged, arms crossed over your chest. "I could've. But then I wouldn't get to see you like this."
His eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You're evil."
You pushed off the doorframe, walking slowly toward him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I'm already late." He turned to grab his bag, but you slid your hand across his bare back—slow, deliberate. He froze.
"Just a kiss goodbye." You said innocently, stepping in front of him.
He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. You deepened it ever so slightly. Just enough.
When he pulled back, your eyes were wide, and you stepped even closer, letting your fingertips play at the waistband of his training pants. "You sure you don't have five minutes?"
"Stop it!" He growled. "You're trying to kill me."
"I'm trying to help you warm up." You whispered, lips brushing his jaw.
He sighed heavily, forehead resting against yours. "You are going to be the death of me"
"I'll give you CPR." You said playfully, before leaning in again.
Another kiss. This one slower. Hungrier. He let out a frustrated groan, arms wrapping around your waist like he was two seconds from forgetting training entirely.
"I really have to go." He murmured into your mouth.
"Mmhm."
You stepped back with a sly smile, leaving him flushed and dazed.
By the time he finally left, his ears were red, his hair was a mess, and he was ten minutes late.
"You are lethal." He muttered one night after finding you lying across the bed in the outfit. That outfit.
Ferran's resolve broke in record time.
"This isn't fair." He whispered as you pressed against him. "This is manipulation."
"And yet you're not stopping me."
"I hate you."
Ferran was still towel-drying his hair when you walked in wearing his hoodie and holding two positive pregnancy tests in your hand, fake ones, but he didn't know that.
He turned, eyes wide. "Wait-- seriously?"
You burst out laughing. "No. But look how fast you panicked."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're evil."
You sauntered closer. "Admit it, you didn't panic. You were excited."
"I was… startled."
"You were picturing the crib already."
He stared at you for a beat. "I'm not ready."
You kissed his cheek. "That's what you said before Lucia."
You curled up next to him on the couch, draping a blanket over your lap. Your hand casually slid under the fabric and onto his thigh.
He tried to stay still, but your fingers crept higher. "You are not seducing me during Frozen 2."
You leaned into his ear. "Why not? Let it go…"
Ferran covered his face. "Oh my god."
You stood by the bed in one of his old t-shirts and nothing else. The lights were low. Lucia had been asleep for hours.
Ferran looked up from his phone and instantly raised a brow. "You're up to something."
"I'm ovulating." He choked on his own breath. You crawled into the bed and slid onto his lap. "Just thought you should know."
"You're not normal."
"You love me."
"I do!" He groaned. "And I'm not going to survive this week."
And Ferran, despite his best efforts, wasn't exactly saying no anymore.
But whenever you brought it up seriously, he'd deflect.
"You don't miss swollen ankles, do you? And no sleep? And diapers?"
You crossed your arms. "I also don't miss you snoring, but here we are."
He threw a cushion at you.
It didn't help that you had developed a habit of ambushing him all over the house. It was meant to be fun. Flirty. Just a little "practice." And then… Two weeks later, you were staring at a pregnancy test.
Negative.
You sighed. Disappointed, even though he wasn't on board. Even though it was just teasing.
That night, Ferran found you curled up on the bed.
"Hey!" He said softly. "You okay?" You nodded, but he saw through it. He saw the test in the nightstand. He kissed your temple and pulled you into his lap. "Were you hoping it was positive?" You didn't answer. He sighed. "You're really serious about this, huh?"
"I don't know." You whispered. "It's just… I love our family. I want more of it."
He rested his chin on your head. "I love our family too. But I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"I don't know… Of not being enough."
You leaned back to look at him. "You're already enough. Lucia thinks you hung the moon. So do I."
He looked at you, torn. Then he smiled sadly.
"Let's just keep practicing."
Things changed after that night.
Ferran might've claimed he wasn't ready, but suddenly, he was the one watching baby videos when he thought you weren't looking. He was the one holding his friends newborns and not giving them back right away.
And you noticed. Oh, you noticed.
One morning, you walked into the living room in nothing but his oversized hoodie and nothing underneath. You casually bent to pick up Lucia's toys, aware of Ferran watching from the couch.
He blinked, trying hard not to stare. "You need help with that?"
"Nope." You said sweetly. "Just tidying up."
Another time, you cornered him in the kitchen and pressed your hand to his chest. "Remember how you said we could keep practicing?"
He swallowed hard. "You make it very hard to say no."
You whispered in his ear. "That's the point."
You'd slide your hands under his shirt as he washed dishes. Leave subtle lipstick marks on his collar before he left for training. You even changed Lucia's bedtime story to: "Once upon a time, a big sister got a baby sibling…"
Ferran groaned dramatically. "You're turning our child into your co-conspirator."
"Teamwork makes the dream work." You teased.
[Eight Weeks Later]
Ferran stared down at the test in his hand, completely still.
You watched from across the bathroom, your fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt. The silence stretched.
"Are you gonna pass out?" You asked carefully.
He looked up slowly. "It's positive."
"Very."
He dropped the test on the counter, crossed the room in three long steps, and scooped you up without another word.
"Careful!" You squealed, laughing. "I’m carrying precious cargo."
"We're doing this." He said softly, voice a little shaky. "We're really doing this."
You nodded again, your heart full. "Looks like it."
A breathless laugh escaped him, and he leaned in to kiss you hard.
"You're trouble, you know that?" He murmured against your lips.
"Completely."
"But I love you anyway."
You smiled, resting your forehead against his. "And now we're gonna have another little someone to love, too."
His arms came around you, pulling you close, careful like you were already fragile.
He exhaled, steadying himself.
"Okay." He whispered. "Let's do this. All in."
