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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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And as the room filled once more with quiet laughter, clinking glasses, and the glow of the television replaying their greatest moments, the team of Arsenal F.C. sat together in their lounge at Colney.
For a while, nobody rushed to speak again.
They didn't need to.
The television continued to play with the clips looping back to the airport, to the bus, to Per raising the trophy, to Francesco signing Daniel's shirt, to supporters singing with that raw, unfiltered joy that only football could create.
But now the players weren't watching it with the same disbelief as before.
Now they watched it with recognition.
With acceptance.
With a quiet understanding that yes, this had happened.
They had done this.
They had given the club that night.
They had given the supporters that memory.
And they were going to carry it with them for the rest of their lives.
Bellerín leaned forward, elbows on his knees, pointing at the screen again as another replay of the bus through the crowds appeared.
"Look at the smoke flares there," he said, shaking his head with a soft laugh. "I swear I couldn't see anything from my side."
"You were too busy waving at yourself in the window reflection," Xhaka replied without looking away from the TV.
"That was not me," Bellerín shot back immediately. "That was… appreciation of the fans."
Giroud snorted quietly from his chair. "Of course."
Cazorla chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "He practiced that wave all week."
"I did not!"
"You did," Cazorla insisted, smiling wider.
The laughter rolled gently around the room again, softer this time but no less genuine.
Kanté watched them with that same warm, slightly shy smile, clearly enjoying the moment even if he wasn't the loudest voice in it.
Per sat back with one arm resting along the top of his seat, his posture relaxed now in a way it rarely was during matches. Every now and then, his eyes flicked toward the television, toward the trophy, toward his teammates like he was quietly checking that all of it was still real.
Francesco let himself sink back into the couch for a while, letting the sound of their voices and the images on the screen blend together.
This room.
These people.
This feeling.
He knew that deep down, there would be other seasons.
Other games.
Other moments of pressure, doubt, frustration, hunger.
Football always moved forward.
It never paused.
But thisz
This was one of those moments that stayed.
The kind you could come back to years later in your mind and still feel the same warmth in your chest.
The same pride.
The same sense of belonging.
After some time that minutes, maybe an hour, none of them were really counting as the energy in the room began to shift again.
Not in a bad way.
Just… naturally.
The adrenaline that had carried them through the journey home and the first wave of celebration was slowly easing.
The body remembering the physical toll of a long season.
Of a final.
Of days filled with emotion.
One by one, players began to stretch their legs, stand up, move around a little more.
"Think I'm going to head off soon," Giroud said eventually, pushing himself up from his chair with a soft exhale. "My family's been waiting all day."
"Same," Cazorla added, standing as well and rolling his shoulders slightly. "My kids probably haven't stopped talking since the final whistle."
"They're not the only ones," Bellerín said, gesturing toward the TV where pundits were now breaking down their goals again.
Xhaka stood a moment later, taking a last sip from his glass before setting it down on the table.
"In two or three big day will happen as well," he said. "Parade."
"Don't remind me," Bellerín groaned dramatically. "I'm going to lose my voice again."
"You lost it shouting on the bus," Xhaka replied.
"Worth it," Bellerín said simply, with a grin.
Kanté rose quietly, nodding politely to those around him as he set his glass aside. "I will go too," he said softly. "I promised my brother I would call when I returned."
Per pushed himself to his feet as well, stretching his long frame slightly. "Rest up," he said to the group. "We celebrate properly tomorrow."
Francesco watched them all for a moment as they began to gather their things from phones, jackets, small bags then moving toward the door in small clusters, still talking, still laughing, still carrying that glow with them.
He stood up last.
Xhaka glanced at him as they both reached for their jackets.
"You driving back to Richmond?" Xhaka asked.
Francesco nodded. "Yeah."
Xhaka gave him a small nod in return. "Enjoy it. You've got people waiting for you, I'm sure."
Francesco's mind flicked instantly to the thought of home.
To his parents.
To Leah.
To the people who had been there long before the goals, before the trophies, before the headlines.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I do."
They walked out together, the hallway now calmer than before, the echoes of celebration fading into something softer, like the afterglow of a long, bright day.
At the entrance, they split ways with a few pats on the shoulder and quiet goodbyes.
"See you in two or three day."
"Don't be late."
"Bring sunglasses," Bellerín added, pointing at Francesco. "You'll need them with that spotlight."
Francesco rolled his eyes lightly, but he was smiling. "Goodnight, Héctor."
"Night, champion," Bellerín replied.
The evening air greeted him as he stepped outside.
Cooler now.
Quieter.
The sky shifting toward the deeper tones of early night, the last hints of daylight fading at the edges.
The training ground felt different at this hour.
Calm.
Peaceful.
Like it was finally exhaling after days of tension and anticipation.
Francesco walked across the parking area, his footsteps steady, his body tired but his mind still carrying that warm hum of everything that had happened.
He reached his car.
The black BMW X5.
Still spotless, still sleek under the soft lights of the lot.
For a second, he just stood there beside it.
Taking a breath.
Letting the quiet settle around him.
Then he opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat.
The familiar scent of the interior, the smooth feel of the steering wheel under his hands as it all grounded him instantly.
He started the engine.
The low, steady purr filled the space.
He adjusted his mirrors, took one last glance toward the main building of London Colney behind him, and then pulled out of the lot.
The drive back through London was calmer than earlier.
The roads were clearer now, the earlier rush of fans and traffic replaced by the more ordinary rhythm of the city winding down for the evening.
But still every now and then, he saw it.
A scarf in a car window.
A shirt worn by someone walking along the pavement.
A small group outside a pub where the highlights were playing on a screen inside.
And each time, there was a small lift in his chest.
A reminder that what they had done wasn't just for them.
It was for all of these people.
The journey carried him gradually out toward Richmond.
Familiar streets again.
Familiar turns.
The quiet, tree-lined roads that led toward his home.
His sanctuary away from the noise of stadiums and cameras.
As he turned into his street, the calm deepened.
Streetlights casting soft pools of light across the pavement.
The gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze.
He slowed as he approached the gates to his property, pressing the control to open them.
They slid back smoothly, welcoming him in.
And as he drove up the driveway.
He saw them.
Two cars already parked there.
His parents' car.
And another.
Leah's family's car.
Francesco felt something shift in his chest instantly.
A warmth that was different from the celebration.
Deeper.
More personal.
They were here.
They had stayed.
Waiting for him.
After everything.
After the travel.
After the long day.
They hadn't gone home.
They had waited.
He pulled the BMW forward slowly, parking it carefully in its usual place.
The engine softened, then stilled as he turned the key.
For a moment, he didn't move.
His hands still resting lightly on the steering wheel.
His eyes fixed ahead toward the front of the house where warm light glowed through the windows.
Inside that light were the people who had been there before any of this.
Before the trophies.
Before the headlines.
Before the world knew his name.
His family.
Leah.
The people who had believed in him when he was just a boy with a ball and a dream.
Francesco exhaled slowly.
A long, steady breath.
Then he opened the car door and stepped out into the evening air.
The night was quiet.
Peaceful.
But the warmth from inside the house seemed to reach him even from here.
He closed the car door gently behind him, then walked toward the front entrance.
Each step felt… grounding.
Real.
He reached the door.
His hand hovered for just a second over the handle.
And then he pushed it open.
The sound of voices greeted him instantly.
Familiar voices.
Warm voices.
The kind that didn't need to be loud to fill a house.
For a brief second, Francesco just stood there in the doorway, one hand still resting lightly on the handle behind him, letting the sound wash over him.
He could hear Leah's voice first that soft, bright, unmistakable.
Then his mother's laughter, gentle and warm in the way it had always been.
His father's lower, steadier tone somewhere just behind it.
And another pair of voices he had come to recognize just as easily over the past months, David and Amanda, with Jacob's lighter, younger voice weaving in between.
It felt… full.
Full in a way no stadium ever could be.
Francesco stepped fully inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
The moment his footsteps touched the floor, the voices in the living room paused and then everything moved at once.
Leah was the first to appear.
She came around the corner of the hallway almost instantly, like she had been waiting for the sound of the door.
And the second she saw him, her face lit up in a way that made everything else fall away.
She didn't say anything at first.
She just walked straight toward him.
And then she wrapped her arms around him.
It wasn't the kind of hug that came with cheering or shouting.
It was something softer.
Tighter.
Something that said more than words ever could.
Francesco's arms came up around her automatically, pulling her in close, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head for a moment.
For a second, he closed his eyes.
Just breathing.
Just feeling her there.
Feeling home.
"You're late," Leah murmured softly against his chest, though there was no real complaint in her voice that just a small, affectionate tease.
Francesco let out a quiet breath that almost turned into a laugh. "Traffic," he said lightly. "And… a few celebrations."
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her hands still resting against his sides.
"I saw," she said, her eyes shining with quiet pride. "All of it."
Francesco smiled softly.
Behind her, more footsteps approached.
His father, Mike, appeared next, followed closely by his mother, Sarah.
Both of them had that same look on their faces with the one that was half pride, half something deeper and more emotional that they didn't always put into words.
Mike reached him first.
He didn't go for a hug immediately. Instead, he placed one firm hand on Francesco's shoulder, squeezing it once that solid, grounding.
"Champions of Europe," he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying a weight of meaning.
Francesco nodded once, his throat tightening slightly. "Yeah," he replied softly.
Then Mike pulled him into a brief, firm embrace.
The kind fathers gave their sons when words weren't enough.
Sarah stepped forward next, wrapping her arms around Francesco with that familiar warmth he had known his entire life.
"I am so proud of you," she whispered.
Francesco closed his eyes again for a second, holding her gently. "Thank you, Mom."
When they pulled apart, another voice chimed in from the living room.
"Well, are we going to keep standing in the hallway or are we letting the hero inside?"
David's voice, warm and teasing.
Francesco looked up and saw him standing there with Amanda beside him, both smiling.
And next to them was Jacob, already stepping forward with excitement practically written across his face.
Francesco stepped toward them, smiling wider now.
David reached him first, extending his hand before pulling him into a brief hug.
"Congratulations, son," he said sincerely. "That was something special."
"Thank you," Francesco replied.
Amanda followed with a warm embrace. "You made all of us proud," she said softly.
Then Jacob stepped forward.
He didn't hesitate.
He just wrapped his arms around Francesco with the kind of enthusiasm only a younger brother figure could have.
"You were amazing!" he blurted out, pulling back just enough to look up at him. "That goal in the first half, I jumped so hard I hit the chair!"
The room filled with soft laughter.
Francesco ruffled his hair gently. "I hope the table survived."
"Barely," Jacob replied, grinning.
They all moved into the living room together then, settling into the comfortable space that had become familiar over the months frim warm lighting, soft couches, the faint smell of food still lingering from earlier preparations.
On the table, dishes were already set out.
Nothing extravagant.
Just a proper home-cooked meal.
The kind that meant more than any restaurant ever could.
"You must be starving," Sarah said, already moving toward the table.
Francesco shook his head lightly. "A little," he admitted. "We had some things at Colney, but…"
"But it's not the same," Leah finished for him.
He smiled at her. "Not even close."
They all sat down together.
Plates passed around.
Food served.
The rhythm of conversation came naturally that no need to force it.
They talked about the match first.
About the goals.
About the moments.
David asked about how Juventus play.
Mike asked about the preparation in the days leading up to it.
Amanda talked about watching from the stadium, about how the whole stadium had gone silent during the tense moments and then erupted when the goals went in.
Sarah mentioned how she had to sit down at one point because her heart was racing too fast.
Jacob reenacted one of Francesco's shots with exaggerated movements that made everyone laugh.
Leah listened to all of it, her eyes drifting back to Francesco every now and then, like she was still making sure he was really there in front of her.
At one point, Mike leaned back slightly in his chair, looking at Francesco with a thoughtful expression.
"You remember," he said slowly, "when you were ten… you told me you wanted to play in finals like this one day."
Francesco nodded faintly, a small smile forming.
"You said you wanted to hear the crowd sing your name," Mike continued.
A quiet pause settled over the table.
"And now?" Mike added softly.
Francesco glanced down at his plate for a second, then back up at his father.
"Now I hear them," he said. "But I also hear you. And Mom. And everyone who got me here."
Sarah reached across the table, placing her hand gently over his.
Leah's fingers brushed lightly against his arm under the table.
David nodded once, his expression warm.
Amanda smiled softly.
Jacob just looked at him with open admiration.
The moment wasn't heavy.
It wasn't overwhelming.
It was just… real.
They finished dinner slowly, no one rushing to get up from the table.
There were small stories shared, small jokes, small silences that felt comfortable instead of empty.
Eventually, though, the evening began to wind down.
Time had a way of doing that, even on days like this.
Mike stood first, stretching slightly. "We should get going," he said. "It's been a long day for everyone."
Sarah nodded in agreement.
David and Amanda followed, gathering their things, Jacob reluctantly stepping away from the table.
Francesco and Leah walked them all to the door together.
There were hugs.
More congratulations.
More quiet words of pride and love.
Mike pulled Francesco into one last embrace before stepping out. "Rest," he said simply.
"I will," Francesco replied.
Sarah kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, my boy."
"Goodnight, Mom."
David shook his hand again, then gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "See you at the parade."
Amanda hugged him once more. "Take care of yourself."
Jacob gave him one last quick hug. "Save me a medal next time too."
Francesco laughed softly. "I'll try."
They stepped outside into the cool night, heading toward their cars.
Francesco and Leah stood in the doorway, watching them go.
The headlights turned on.
Engines started.
Cars pulled away one by one down the quiet Richmond street.
And then it was just the two of them.
The house behind them.
The quiet night in front of them.
Leah slipped her hand into his.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Francesco nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Just… tired. In a good way."
She smiled. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's get some rest."
They closed the door behind them, turning off the lights downstairs as they made their way up the stairs together.
The house grew quieter with each step.
The world outside fading away.
In the bedroom, the lights were soft.
The air calm.
Francesco set his phone down on the bedside table, kicked off his shoes, and let himself sink onto the edge of the bed for a moment.
Leah moved around the room quietly, changing, preparing for the night.
After everything from the noise, the crowds, the celebration, the emotion as this simple, quiet routine felt like a kind of peace he hadn't realized he needed.
He lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, feeling the weight of the day finally settling into his muscles.
Leah slipped under the covers beside him a moment later, turning slightly toward him.
He turned his head to look at her.
There was no need for many words now.
Just a soft smile exchanged between them.
A small squeeze of hands.
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Goodnight," he murmured.
"Goodnight," she replied softly.
Within minutes, the exhaustion of the long day finally caught up with them both.
The house fell completely still.
And they slept.
Morning came gently.
Soft light filtering through the curtains.
The quiet hum of a new day beginning.
Francesco stirred first, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the light.
For a moment, he just lay there, still half between sleep and waking, his mind slowly catching up to where he was.
Then the memories returned.
The match.
The celebration.
The drive home.
His family.
Leah beside him.
He turned his head slightly, seeing her still asleep, her breathing steady and calm.
A small smile touched his lips.
He reached over to his bedside table, picking up his phone.
A few notifications blinked on the screen with messages, media mentions, headlines but one stood out immediately.
The team group chat.
Opened.
A new message at the top.
From Arsène Wenger.
Francesco tapped it.
The message was simple.
Clear.
Calm.
The parade will be in two days.
Francesco stared at the words for a second.
Two days.
Two days until they would stand on that bus again.
Until they would face the supporters again.
Until they would celebrate with the city.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Beside him, Leah shifted slightly, beginning to wake.
Francesco set the phone down, turning toward her again.
"Morning," he said softly.
Leah's eyes fluttered open slowly, still heavy with sleep, the soft morning light catching in them as she focused on his face.
For a moment she just looked at him, like she was making sure he was really there and not just part of a dream she didn't want to wake from.
Then her lips curved into a gentle smile.
"Good morning," she replied quietly.
Her voice was still hushed with sleep, warm and familiar.
Francesco felt something settle in his chest at the sound of it.
Not the adrenaline from last night.
Not the roar of a stadium.
Something calmer.
Something steadier.
He leaned in, pressing another light kiss to her forehead before sitting up on the edge of the bed.
Leah stretched slightly under the covers, letting out a soft breath as she woke fully.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
They just let the quiet morning exist around them.
Then Leah pushed herself up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
"Come on," she said, her tone light. "If we stay here too long, we're not moving all day."
Francesco chuckled quietly. "Tempting."
"Very tempting," she agreed, smiling.
But still, they both got up.
They moved through the familiar motions side by side, walking into the bathroom together, the cool tiles under their feet, the soft echo of running water filling the space.
Francesco reached for his toothbrush while Leah tied her hair back loosely, both of them moving with the kind of ease that only came from time and comfort.
There was no rush.
No pressure.
Just the quiet start of a new day.
They brushed their teeth side by side at the sink, exchanging small, sleepy glances in the mirror, the kind of wordless communication that said more than any conversation could.
At one point, Leah nudged him lightly with her elbow when he absentmindedly squeezed too much toothpaste.
He gave her a sheepish look through the mirror.
She laughed softly.
Simple moments.
Normal moments.
Moments that grounded everything else.
When they finished, they rinsed up, splashed a bit of water on their faces, and headed downstairs together.
The house was filled with soft morning light now, the curtains letting in just enough sun to warm the rooms without overwhelming them.
The quiet of the night had shifted into that gentle hum of morning life.
Francesco walked into the kitchen first, stretching his arms slightly above his head.
Leah followed, already moving toward the cabinets.
"What are we feeling?" she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
Francesco leaned against the counter, thinking for a second. "Something simple," he said. "Toast. Eggs. Maybe fruit."
Leah nodded. "Good. Because that's exactly what we have."
She started pulling things out with bread, eggs, butter, a bowl of fruit from the counter.
Francesco stepped in to help, grabbing the pan and setting it on the stove.
It wasn't a complicated process.
But it didn't need to be.
He cracked the eggs carefully into the pan while Leah set slices of bread into the toaster.
The quiet sizzle of the pan filled the room.
The soft click of the toaster.
The gentle clink of plates as she set them on the counter.
At one point, Francesco reached over to adjust the heat and accidentally brushed his hand against hers.
They both paused for a second.
Then Leah smiled.
"Careful," she said lightly. "Chef at work."
Francesco smirked. "I've cooked before, you know."
"Mm," she replied, amused. "Once."
"Twice," he corrected.
She laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned back to the counter.
They moved around each other easily in the kitchen, handing things back and forth, small touches here and there, the rhythm of it natural and unforced.
By the time the eggs were ready and the toast had popped, the kitchen smelled warm and comforting.
Leah added slices of fruit to the plates while Francesco turned off the stove and set everything out.
"Living room?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said.
They carried the plates together, settling onto the couch with their breakfast balanced carefully in their hands.
Francesco reached for the remote and switched on the TV.
The screen flickered to life.
And almost immediately, it was there.
Arsenal.
Clips from the season.
Highlights.
Goals.
Commentary.
A headline across the bottom of the screen.
Arsenal: the first team to defend a treble in Premier League history and in football history.
Leah glanced at the screen, then back at Francesco.
"Well," she said softly, a hint of pride in her voice. "That's one way to wake up."
Francesco let out a small breath, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth as he watched the images.
There it was again.
The bus through the streets.
The sea of red and white.
The goals from the season with each one a moment he could still feel in his body.
The commentators' voices layered over it all.
"They've done something no English side has ever done before…"
"Back-to-back trebles…"
"A team for the history books…"
Francesco took a bite of his breakfast, chewing slowly as he watched.
It still felt slightly surreal.
Even now.
Even after the medal.
After the trophy.
After the night.
Seeing it like this, framed on a screen, narrated, analyzed, celebrated as it gave it a different weight.
A permanence.
Leah shifted slightly closer to him on the couch, her shoulder brushing against his.
"They're talking about you again," she said quietly.
Francesco glanced sideways.
On the screen, his name was being mentioned, a replay of one of his goals playing again in slow motion.
He exhaled softly. "It's not just me."
"I know," Leah replied. "But you're a big part of it."
He didn't argue.
But he didn't lean into it either.
He just watched.
On screen, the season played out in flashes.
Opening day.
Key matches.
Late winners.
Defensive stands.
Moments of doubt.
Moments of brilliance.
And all of it building toward the final.
Toward that night.
Toward lifting the trophy again.
"They keep showing that goal," Leah said suddenly.
Francesco looked closer.
It was there.
That goal.
The one that had broken the game open.
He remembered the exact feel of it.
The weight of the ball on his foot.
The angle.
The decision in that split second.
He smiled faintly.
"Good shoot," he said.
Leah nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "Good shoot? That was ridiculous."
He laughed softly. "Alright, alright."
They ate slowly, not really rushing through their breakfast, letting the highlights roll on.
At one point, the broadcast cut to pundits in the studio, breaking down the season.
"They've set a new standard," one of them was saying. "This Arsenal side, what they've done over the past two seasons as it's not just about winning. It's about consistency, mentality, hunger."
Another nodded. "And the leadership in that dressing room. You can see it. The culture is strong. The expectations are clear."
Francesco's mind flicked back briefly to the conversation with Per the night before.
The quiet warning.
The reminder.
The standard.
He glanced down at his plate, then back at the screen.
Leah noticed the small shift in his expression.
"What is it?" she asked gently.
He shook his head slightly. "Just… thinking about what comes next."
She studied him for a second.
Then she set her plate down on the table in front of them and turned slightly toward him, tucking one leg under herself.
"You don't have to think about that today," she said softly. "You can just… enjoy this."
Francesco met her gaze.
There was no pressure in her words.
No expectation.
Just a simple reminder.
He nodded once, letting out a quiet breath. "Yeah," he said. "You're right."
He set his own plate down as well, leaning back into the couch.
On the screen, they were showing footage from the dressing room celebrations now.
Players singing.
Laughing.
Spraying champagne.
For a moment, Francesco just watched it.
Watched himself and his teammates from the outside.
It was strange.
But also… grounding.
Leah reached over, her fingers finding his hand.
He laced his fingers through hers automatically.
They sat like that for a while.
Quiet.
Watching.
The house still calm around them.
The world outside continuing its normal rhythm while inside, they lived in the afterglow of something extraordinary.
Eventually, the segment shifted again.
More analysis.
More praise.
More discussion of records and history and legacy.
Leah leaned her head lightly against his shoulder.
"Two days," she said softly, echoing the message from that morning.
Francesco nodded. "Two days."
"The parade's going to be insane," she added with a small smile.
"Yeah," he said, a quiet laugh under his breath. "It will."
He could already picture it.
The bus.
The streets.
The supporters lining every inch of the route.
The noise.
The color.
The feeling.
He squeezed her hand gently.
"But today," he said, repeating her earlier words, "we just enjoy this."
Leah smiled against his shoulder.
"Exactly."
They stayed there for a long time.
Breakfast finished.
Plates forgotten on the table for a while.
The television continuing to show the story of their season from the goals, the celebrations, the moments that had led them here.
They stayed there for a long time.
Breakfast finished.
Plates forgotten on the table for a while.
The television continuing to show the story of their season with the goals, the celebrations, the moments that had led them here.
At some point, the highlights looped back to the final again.
The build-up.
The anthem.
The first whistle.
Francesco watched for a few more minutes, then let out a slow breath and leaned forward, reaching for the plates.
"Come on," he said softly. "We should probably clean up before we get too comfortable doing nothing."
Leah let out a small laugh, lifting her head from his shoulder. "You say that like doing nothing is a bad thing."
"It's not," he admitted, smiling faintly. "But I know you. You won't relax properly if the kitchen's a mess."
She made a face that confirmed he was absolutely right.
"Okay, fine," she said, pushing herself up from the couch. "Let's do it."
They carried their plates back into the kitchen together, the house still wrapped in that easy quiet of the morning.
The sink filled with warm water, a soft hum of running taps as Francesco rinsed the plates and Leah reached for the soap.
They stood side by side again, passing dishes back and forth, drying them, placing them neatly back into the cabinets.
It was simple.
Routine.
But there was something calming about it.
After days of noise and intensity and expectation, this kind of normalcy felt like a reset.
A grounding.
When the last plate was dried and put away, Leah turned off the tap and wiped her hands on a towel.
She glanced at Francesco.
"Shower?" she asked.
He nodded immediately. "Definitely."
They headed back upstairs together, the quiet creak of the stairs under their steps, the sunlight shifting slightly higher now through the windows.
Back in the bedroom, they moved around each other in a familiar rhythm with grabbing clothes, setting things out, heading into the bathroom one after the other.
The warm water washed away the last traces of the previous day.
The fatigue.
The sweat.
The lingering weight of travel and celebration.
Francesco stood under the stream for a moment longer than usual, eyes closed, letting it fall over his shoulders, his back, his face.
Letting his body finally begin to recover.
A long season.
So many matches.
So many moments where everything had been demanded of him.
And now… finally… a pause.
When they were both done, they dressed in comfortable clothes that nothing fancy, just something easy for a day at home.
Francesco pulled on a simple T-shirt and joggers, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back into the bedroom.
Leah followed a moment later, dressed just as comfortably, her hair still slightly damp.
For a few seconds, they just stood there, looking at each other, both clearly aware of the same thought.
No training today.
No media.
No travel.
Nothing scheduled.
Just… rest.
Francesco exhaled slowly, dropping back onto the bed for a moment, his arms falling out to his sides.
"I don't think I'm leaving this house today," he said, staring up at the ceiling.
Leah leaned against the doorframe, watching him with an amused smile. "I think you've earned that."
He turned his head to look at her. "I mean it. I'm just going to rest. All day. I need it after that season."
"You definitely do," she agreed softly.
There was a small pause.
Leah's expression shifted slightly to thoughtful.
"Hey," she said after a second.
Francesco hummed lightly in response, eyes still on her.
"What if we adopted a pet?"
He blinked.
That wasn't what he had expected.
"A pet?" he repeated, pushing himself up slightly onto his elbows.
Leah nodded, stepping into the room a little more, her tone soft but excited. "Yeah. Like… a puppy. Or a kitten."
Francesco watched her for a moment.
He could see it in her face, as the idea had been sitting there for a while.
He sat up fully now, resting his forearms on his knees.
"Are you sure?" he asked gently.
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"You know how busy we are when the season starts again," he said carefully. "Especially me. Training every day. Matches. Travel. You've got your own schedule too."
Leah's expression softened, but she didn't look discouraged.
Instead, she thought about it.
Actually thought.
He could see it in the way her eyes moved slightly, the way her lips pressed together.
A few seconds passed.
Then she nodded.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I know. But… we can make it work."
Francesco raised an eyebrow slightly, still not fully convinced but not dismissing it either.
"We'd plan around it," she continued. "We've got space here. We can arrange help when we're both away. And… it would make this place feel even more like home, you know?"
Her voice softened on the last sentence.
Francesco felt something shift in his chest at that.
This place already felt like home to him.
But the way she said it…
He could see what she meant.
Something living.
Something that would be there every day.
Something they would both care for together.
He let out a quiet breath, a small smile forming.
"You really want one, don't you?" he said.
Leah's lips curved into a hopeful grin. "Maybe."
He shook his head lightly, amused.
"Alright," he said. "Let's at least go look."
Her face lit up immediately.
"Really?"
"Really," he confirmed, standing up from the bed.
She crossed the room in two quick steps and wrapped her arms around him again.
"You're the best," she murmured.
"I know," he replied lightly, making her laugh.
They both changed into slightly more presentable clothes that still casual, but ready to go out.
Francesco grabbed his keys from the bedside table, and a few minutes later they were heading downstairs again.
The house was quiet behind them as they stepped out into the late morning air.
The driveway stretched out in front of them, the BMW X5 waiting where he had left it the night before.
Francesco unlocked it with a soft click.
They got in, the leather seats cool against them at first before warming quickly.
He started the engine.
The familiar low purr filled the space.
Leah buckled her seatbelt and looked over at him with that same excited energy.
"Do you know where we're going?" she asked.
"There's a good pet shop not too far from here," Francesco said as he pulled out of the driveway. "I've passed it a few times."
"Perfect."
The drive was calm.
Richmond's streets were quieter at this hour, the usual city rush softened by the late morning lull.
They drove with the windows slightly down, letting in a bit of fresh air, the sunlight warming the dashboard.
Leah pointed out things along the way from small shops, people walking their dogs, a couple sitting outside a café with a golden retriever lying happily at their feet.
Each time, she looked at Francesco like she was silently saying, "See?"
He just smiled, shaking his head lightly but not resisting the idea anymore.
Eventually, they reached the pet shop.
It wasn't huge, but it was warm and inviting, with a bright sign and large windows that let in plenty of light.
Francesco parked the car and turned off the engine.
They both stepped out, walking toward the entrance side by side.
The moment they pushed the door open, they were greeted by a soft chorus of sounds.
Small barks.
Playful yips.
The faint meowing of kittens somewhere further inside.
It was… lively.
Warm.
Full of life.
A staff member greeted them with a friendly smile as they entered, but after a quick nod and greeting, left them to look around at their own pace.
Leah's eyes widened almost immediately as she took in the different enclosures.
"There are so many," she whispered.
Francesco looked around too.
Different breeds of puppies.
A section for kittens.
Shelves lined with pet food, toys, collars, beds.
It was a lot.
They moved slowly from one section to another, stopping to look at different animals.
A small group of energetic puppies tumbled over each other in one enclosure, their tiny paws sliding slightly on the floor as they played.
In another, a few kittens were curled up together, sleeping peacefully.
Leah crouched down at one point near a group of puppies, smiling as one of them pressed its nose up against the glass.
Francesco watched her, amused and fond.
"You're going to want all of them," he said.
She glanced back at him with a grin. "Don't tempt me."
They continued looking.
Talking quietly.
Considering.
Thinking about what would fit their life, their home.
After a while, they reached another section.
And that's when they saw it.
A small corgi puppy.
Its short legs, its round face, its ears slightly too big for its head.
It was sitting near the front of the enclosure, watching the room with curious, bright eyes.
As they approached, it tilted its head slightly.
Leah's breath caught softly.
"Oh…"
Francesco crouched down beside her, looking at the little dog.
It stepped closer to the glass, its tiny tail giving a small wag.
There was a moment.
A quiet one.
One of those moments where something just… clicked.
Leah looked at Francesco.
Francesco looked at Leah.
Neither of them needed to say it out loud.
"This one?" he asked gently.
She nodded, a soft smile spreading across her face. "This one."
The staff member came over to assist, opening the enclosure so they could meet the puppy properly.
The corgi stepped out onto the floor, looking up at them both.
It walked straight toward Leah first, sniffing at her shoes before letting her pick it up carefully.
She held it close, her expression softening instantly.
Francesco reached out, letting the puppy sniff his hand before gently scratching behind its ear.
"Hey, little guy," he murmured.
The decision didn't take much longer after that.
They talked briefly with the staff about care, about what they would need, about making sure they were prepared.
Francesco paid for the puppy and all the necessities from collar, food, toys, a small bed, everything they would need to welcome it home properly.
As they were finishing up, Leah looked down at the puppy in her arms.
"What should we call him?" Francesco asked.
She thought for a second.
Then her face lit up with recognition.
"Cheddar," she said.
Francesco blinked. "Cheddar?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "From Brooklyn Nine-Nine. You know, the corgi."
Francesco laughed softly, shaking his head. "Of course you'd pick that."
"It's perfect," she insisted, smiling down at the puppy. "Right, Cheddar?"
The puppy let out a small, happy sound, as if agreeing.
Francesco looked at them both, a warmth settling in his chest.
"Alright," he said. "Cheddar it is."
They stepped out of the shop a little while later, arms full with Leah carrying the puppy carefully, Francesco holding the bags of supplies.
The late morning sun was still warm.
The day still calm.
And as they walked toward the car together, it felt like the start of something new.
A small addition to their life.
A new presence in their home.
Cheddar.
Their puppy.
And as Francesco opened the car door for Leah, watching her settle in with the small corgi in her lap.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9