pairing: eric garcia x torres!reader
summary: in which you fall for your brother's teammate
a/n: requested on my wattpad!
the problem with deciding to hide something is that it immediately becomes more tempting.
you tell yourselves you’ll be careful.
the first time you stay at eric’s place, it isn’t planned.
it was supposed to be coffee.
then “just one movie” on his couch.
and suddenly it’s midnight and you’re barefoot on his kitchen tiles, wearing one of his hoodies, laughing too loud at something that isn’t even that funny.
“i should go,” you say weakly.
“yeah,” he agrees, not letting go of your hand.
when he kisses you this time, it isn’t hesitant.
it’s not balcony-soft and unsure.
it’s months of tension and years of almost.
it’s his hands firm at your waist, your fingers in his hair, the quiet gasp you don’t manage to swallow.
you wake up the next morning in his bed, sunlight pouring across white sheets, his arm heavy and warm around your middle.
for a moment, it feels simple.
ferran: when are u coming home?
you slide out of bed carefully, grabbing your clothes from the floor.
eric blinks awake. “everything okay?”
“yeah,” you whisper. “i just— i told ferran i was at a friend’s.”
eric pushes himself up on one elbow, watching you.
“so technically not a lie,” he murmurs.
you throw him a look. “don’t.”
he smiles, slow and infuriatingly soft.
you lean down and kiss him again anyway.
“how was marta’s?” ferran asks that afternoon, tossing you an apple from the kitchen counter.
you catch it, hoping your face isn’t giving anything away.
“good. we watched a movie.”
you freeze for half a second.
“uh. the one with — you know. the sad dog.”
ferran squints. “that’s not a title.”
“it was sad. there was a dog. i cried. end of story.”
he watches you a beat longer than comfortable.
it gets worse after that.
when ferran and eric hang out at your apartment, you play your part.
until eric stands up mid-conversation.
ferran doesn’t even look up from his phone.
you’re already halfway down the hallway.
the bathroom door closes.
two seconds later, it opens again and eric slips into your room instead.
you barely have time to whisper “you’re insane” before he’s kissing you.
like you’re stealing something.
“he’s in the other room,” you breathe against his mouth.
he kisses you again anyway.
your heart pounds so loud you’re convinced ferran can hear it through the walls.
a floorboard creaks in the hallway and you jump apart like you’ve been caught committing a crime.
eric smooths his shirt, runs a hand through his hair.
“get out before he gets suspicious,” you hiss.
“so worth it,” he smiles, already backing toward the door.
he actually goes into the bathroom this time, flushes the toilet for effect.
you sit on your bed trying to steady your breathing.
when you both reappear in the living room, ferran glances up.
his eyes move between you.
“why do you both look red?" he asks.
“it’s hot,” you answer immediately.
ferran looks at the air conditioner humming above you.
but he doesn’t say anything.
the closest call happens on a thursday.
ferran’s at eric’s place.
you’re not supposed to be there.
you’d come over earlier, thinking ferran was still at pedri's.
you’re in eric’s bedroom when you hear the front door open.
ferran’s voice carries down the hallway.
“hermanoo, i’m starving.”
“balcony,” he whispers urgently.
you absolutely do not trust him.
but you slip out onto the small back balcony anyway, heart in your throat.
you can hear them in the kitchen.
ferran talking about something from training.
eric responding like nothing is wrong.
like you are not hiding ten feet away trying not to breathe too loudly.
after what feels like an hour but is probably like seven minutes, eric appears in the doorway.
“i’m grabbing something from my room,” he calls casually.
the balcony door slides open just enough for him to slip outside.
you glare at him. “this is your fault.”
“you look hot when you’re mad.”
“five minutes,” he murmurs. “i'll distract him then you leave through the stairwell. he won’t see.”
“you’re enjoying this way too much.”
because this isn’t just hiding.
it’s you sneaking out of his building with your hood up while your brother laughs in the kitchen, completely unaware.
it’s eric texting you five seconds later:
you: you’re going to ruin my life.
you shouldn’t love that answer.
the way eric’s body subtly angles toward you in group settings.
the way you both disappear at the same time a little too often.
the inside jokes that don’t make sense to anyone else.
one night, ferran pauses mid-sentence while the three of you are sitting in the living room.
his eyes move between you.
“…what,” you ask carefully.
he leans back against the couch.
it’s the same tone as before.
which means it’s absolutely something.
eric’s knee brushes yours.
you see it in the slight tightening of his jaw.
the protective instinct flickering on like a warning light.
and suddenly the thrill feels thinner.
because sneaking around is fun.
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