Chapter Text
“You were wearing a wire that night at White Rose. Care to explain why?”
At first Leo thought he didn’t hear the question properly, and then he felt the bile rising in his throat. They figured him out, they know he’s a spy.
“I…I…” He croaked, but was cut off again by another hit across the face. Leo let out a strangled cry as he fell to the floor, blood dripping onto the concrete.
“Nothing to say for yourself?” Ronaldo taunted as he stomped hard on Leo’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Pain shot through his body, Leo was sure his bullet wound had opened up again.
“Well? Stupid bitch!” Ronaldo spat at him.
“Please! I don’t know what you’re talking about…why are you doing this?” Leo wailed, hoping he could get out of this by feigning stupidity. Ronaldo narrowed his eyes and kissed his teeth.
“Pepe, Karim. Hold him up.”
The two Madridistas quickly shuffled over to Leo’s battered body and held him up by his arms so he was now facing Ronaldo head on. “Looks like you need your memory jogged, f*cking moron.” Leo thought he was about to be hit again, but instead the Madridista turned around to go retrieve a small black bag from the boot of the Jeep. At this point Leo’s mind was spinning. Was that the wire? Did they find it on him at White Rose? But that can’t be right, he was sure he destroyed it as soon as sh*t hit the fan. Unless he passed out sooner than he remembered and he never actually got round to destroying the wire. Or maybe they found the pieces in his hand and jumped to conclusions. He wouldn’t put it past Cristiano to do that. That’s fine, that meant he could still clear his name. He could still leave here with his life.
It felt like an eternity before Ronaldo came back with the bag, “Isn’t this something you’ve seen before?” He hissed as he reached inside the bag. Leo expected to see the little black earpiece he had on the night, or at least the pieces of it, but was completely taken aback when Ronaldo pulled out the fake white flower he gave away to Ramos.
“Clever little thing aren’t you. I wouldn’t even have known it was tapped if I hadn’t decided to take a closer look.”
What?
“What?” Leo spluttered out, completely lost. The f*cking flower? That was Camavinga’s flower, and he gave that to Ramos. There was no wire in there, no mic or anything.
Until it finally hit him.
“Listen to me Cristiano. That’s not mine. It was planted on me by PSG.”
“So you admit you work for PSG?”
“Open your ears dammit. They’re out to get me. It was Mbappe, Kylian Mbappe. He was giving them out to everyone so I don’t know why he singled me out.”
They had never found the earpiece, he unknowingly had one on him in that flower Kylian gave him, which would explain why he was so adamant that Leo kept it on him. Well now he had no doubts about the Frenchman's vendetta against him. But ultimately this meant that as far as Madrid’s concerned, Leo is innocent.
“Aw, the big scary Mbappe.” Ronaldo jeered, “Oh yes. I know all about how you begged and pleaded with the boss to protect you. I don’t care how he might’ve wronged you to suddenly want him dead, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve helped PSG at our expense. That mic is the reason why they attacked us that night. That makes you a traitor, and you know what Madrid does with traitors?”
This all sounded worryingly familiar. “Does Ramos know you’re doing this? Don’t you think your boss should handle this?”
Ronaldo’s expression turned more angry, “You think you can weasel your way out of this just because you’re convinced you have the boss wrapped around your finger?” he spat. “Ramos has had plenty of civilians stay with him before, some of them he would’ve already screwed by now. You’re nothing special!”
“What, jealous?”
“Excuse me?” Ronaldo narrowed his eyes and leaned towards Leo, who was now grinning. It appeared that Ronaldo had already made up his mind on putting him to death, Leo might as well have some fun before that happened.
“I mean…so what if he likes me a little bit. What’s it to you? I’m interested in how you got that flower anyway. I’m guessing you took it behind his back because you can’t stand that he’s showing a bit more attention to anyone that’s not you!”
Ronaldo had gone completely red, and the other Madridistas just looked at each other awkwardly. “You…” He growled through gritted teeth. He clenched his fists and threw his hardest punch yet right in the stomach, the force knocking Leo back onto the ground. The Argentinian gasped for air as a barrage of punches came from Ronaldo. The gang only watched on in silence, normally they would help but this time felt a little personal. Leo cried out over and over as he kept getting hit, and soon he started coughing up blood. “You little piece of sh*t, f*cking bitch.” Ronaldo snarled as the beating got more violent. Leo wished he’d just been shot dead instead as pain raked every inch of his body and his vision became blurry. “I’m innocent…” he mumbled in between coughs and groans, but of course Ronaldo was far from convinced.
Marcelo fiddled with his pistol, shifting his weight uncomfortably between his feet. “For God’s sake Cristiano, you’ll kill him!”
Ronaldo’s head spun round to face his fellow gang member, eyes wide and furious. “It’s what he deserves, Celo. He’s double crossed us!”
“This is just your personal agenda, that’s not how we go about things!”
Ronaldo stood up straighter, eyes locked on Marcelo like a predator. He slowly approached him, breathing heavy and his expression sinister. Marcelo tried to stand taller, maintaining eye contact, until Ronaldo suddenly grabbed his throat and started squeezing hard.
Startled mutters could be heard from the rest of the gang as Marcelo gasped and sputtered, uselessly grabbing at his companion’s hands to loosen his grip.
“Hey….Cristiano!” Pepe called out with increasing panic, but of course Ronaldo wasn’t listening. Leo looked on at the scene wide eyed as Marcelo struggled less and less against the hold on his neck, until his body went limp and Ronaldo let him fall to the floor.
Leo let out a gurgling noise in horror, struggling to make sense of what just happened. The other gang members casted frantic, worried glances between themselves, wondering if they should help their companion but also scared that would make them next to be disposed of.
“You guys should know this by now,” Ronaldo breathed heavily. His face was stone cold, manic, terrifying. “When the boss isn’t here you answer to me! I’m second in command, so just do as you’re told and you won’t end up like our dear Marcelo here.”
Leo was unsure whether or not Marcelo was still breathing. Black spots in his vision began to appear again, the pain and distress pushing him towards unconsciousness. However before he could black out, a loud car horn honk pierced through the dark, causing everyone to turn towards the direction of noise. A black Jeep screeched to a halt in the car park, and out stepped Ramos from the front seat. His face appeared neutral, but the look in his eyes made it clear that he was mad.
Very mad.
Ronaldo broke into a grin as Ramos marched towards where Leo was lying, “Hey boss, so glad you could join us. This little sh*t that’s been staying in your house turned out to be-“ The sound of a gunshot rattled through the air and Ronaldo wailed in agony. Ramos had drawn his pistol and shot him in the leg.
“f*ck! Aghhh…What the f*ck Ramos!?” Ronaldo had fallen to the ground, desperately clutching his shin to stop the bleeding. The boss stood over him looking disinterested, almost disgusted, as he co*cked his gun and fired another shot through his foot.
“Agh! sh*t!” Ronaldo shrieked as his foot now bled out onto the pavement, “I f*cking helped you! It’s the Messi boy you should be shooting…he’s with PSG!”
“Maybe run things by me before you decide to jump to conclusions.” Ramos said in a low, menacing voice. He lifted his leg and placed it on Ronaldo’s bullet wound, prompting a pained gasp from the man. “I just got off the phone with a man named Hakimi - he works for PSG. He told me they were behind everything, and that next they’re coming for Leo.” Ramos increased the pressure of his foot on Ronaldo’s wound, “f*ck! Step off!” he cried.
“Not only have you beaten up someone innocent, and quite possibly killed a fellow Madridista,” Ramos stepped down on Ronaldo’s leg harder, “You also seem to have forgotten who you take your orders from.”
Ronaldo was crying out now, tears streaming down his face. “Please…please…” he croaked in between heavy breaths.
Ramos removed his foot and stood up straight to address the gang. “Carvajal and Casemiro, see to it that Marcelo is okay. And from here on out, Iker is your second in command. No orders are to be taken from Ronaldo anymore. Move out, Now!”
Everyone snapped to attention and began moving immediately, awkwardly shuffling past Cristiano. Ramos turned to face Leo, his face softening at the sight of him lying bloody and bruised on the ground. He carefully scooped his body up into his arms, and Leo was too tired to protest. “Can you hear me, dollface?” He whispered, and Leo nodded in response “I’m sorry Lionel. God I’m so sorry.”
As he was taken back to the car, Leo spared a glimpse at Ronaldo, who had been completely left alone still writhing in pain. For a brief moment, they made eye contact, and a flash of anger appeared on Ronaldo’s face just before he passed out on the concrete.
Leo was placed in the backseat of Ramos’s car so he could lie down. “Thank you.” he said quietly as the boss began to drive.
“How do I even begin to apologise to you? I should’ve taken you to the safe house myself. I knew Ronaldo had become a liability but I still put him in charge of you.”
“It’s fine. I mean, I’m not dead arent I?” Leo smiled weakly, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke, but Ramos’s face remained solemn.
“You might’ve been! I should’ve known he’d try to do something to you. And, f*ck, I wouldn’t even have expected what he did to Marcelo…”
“He tried to help me, and then Cristiano choked him.” Leo mumbled. “It’s my-“
“Don’t f*cking finish that sentence. Ronaldo’s actions are not yours, and he’s paid for what he’s done.”
“You didn’t…leave him to die, did you?” Leo asked hesitantly. He’d be lying if he said Ronaldo didn’t get what was coming to him, but also didn’t know how he felt being partly responsible for his death.
“I told one of my guys to go get him after 10 minutes, just to scare him a bit more. He won’t be bothering you again.”
Leo was content with that, and the two of them sat in silence as they drove the rest of the way to the safe house in district 4.
The safe house was in a smallish neighbourhood, with trash on the street here and there and broken windows every few houses - definitely on the side closer to district 5. Ramos pulled up to one of the nicer looking houses where two men sporting the Madridista tattoo stood on guard, pistols strapped to their belts. Ramos opened the car door, and undid Leo’s seatbelt for him.
“I’m gonna carry you inside now, is that okay?”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
Leo nodded. He didn’t have the strength to protest, and plus, he felt safe in Ramos’s arms. “Alright then.” He said softly as he picked Leo up once again to take him inside.
The interior of the house was sparsely furnished, but still quite nice. Ramos set Leo down on a sofa in the living room, watching him carefully as if Leo might shatter at any moment.
“Those guys outside, are they staying here with me?” Leo asked.
“They should be going now. I’m the one who’s going to stay with you.” Ramos turned to grab a first aid box in the corner of the room. “I don’t trust anyone else to be alone with you, I won’t let you get hurt again.”
Leo’s cheeks flared, “I’d trust Marcelo.”
“I would’ve too, but he’s not here anymore.” Ramos deadpanned, causing Leo to wince slightly. The boss removed Leo’s jacket and got to work with a warm wet towel, wiping the blood off of Leo’s face and plastering the gash on his cheek. His hands were gentle, and his movements were deliberate. Leo could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
Next Ramos took some alcohol rub, poured a bit on a cotton bud, and started dabbing at the cuts on Leo’s arm. The sting from the alcohol caused Leo to hiss sharply.
“Sorry! I’m sorry…” Ramos apologised quickly, guilt written all over his face. “I…I need to lift your shirt up. Is that okay?”
Leo’s breath hitched, “Sure.”
Ramos gave a small nod and lifted up the white shirt (that now had blood stains all over.) to reveal all the nasty bruises on Leo’s torso, turning his skin hideous shades of red, blue and purple.
“Jesus!”
“Is it that bad?” Leo asked worriedly, very much aware that Sergio Ramos was now eying his shirtless body. He desperately fought off a blush.
“It’s a miracle your bullet wound didn’t open up.” Ramos mumbled, completely focused on cleaning and treating the wounded areas. “Sorry dollface, this might take a while.”
The whole process had taken about 2 hours, and the sun was just about rising when they were finishing up. A cut on Leo’s underarm needed stitches, and Ramos squeezed Leo’s hand throughout the whole procedure, offering words of comfort whenever Leo yelled out in pain.
“I’m going to have to leave you alone for a few hours. I’m sorry but there’s things that need to be taken care of.”
Leo frowned, “Do you have to?” never did he expect he’d want Ramos to stay with him.
“Duty calls sweetheart,” Ramos smiled weakly at him. “Trust me, I hate to leave like this.”
Leo felt himself go red again, “Don’t call me sweetheart.” He said, not making eye contact with the boss.
“Fine then.” Ramos’s face remained indifferent but the hurt in his voice was not as discrete as he thought. “I’ll be back with food, please just try to rest until then.” and with that, Ramos left.
Leo didn’t know what to do with himself at this point. The silence was stifling, and he had nothing to do except focus on the dull ache all over his body or replay the beating he got over in his head.
Exhausted, Leo threw his head back onto the pillow, and let himself fall into a deep sleep.
Leo was awoken by the sound of his phone ringing and the afternoon sun shining through the blinds onto his face. Groaning, he shuffled through his jacket pocket and clumsily took out his phone to read the caller ID. He was surprised to see Suarez being the one calling him, as he was half expecting it to be Neymar.
“Wassup Suarez?“ Leo said groggily, still trying to wake himself up.
“Yo Leo! You still sleepy, it’s past midday!” Luis laughed slightly. “How are you though, hope it’s not too bad over in Madrid territory?”
“Honestly Luis…” Leo trailed off, unsure how exactly to phrase “My hosts just beat me half dead” in a way that wouldn’t raise concern.
“It’s alright, you can talk to me Leo. Unless you’d rather me get Neymar on the line?”
“No you’re fine. It’s just…what do you know about the gang PSG?”
“PSG you say…” Luis trailed off slightly before speaking again. “I can tell you one thing, they’re not like us or Madrid. They don’t just fire at enemy gangs, they fire at civilians. In fact, they target civilians. They’re not a gang, they’re terrorists. I’m not too sure what their motive is exactly, but we’ve got to intervene before they do something drastic.”
“Shouldn’t the police be on that?”
“Probably, but we all know they suck eggs. By the way, you have your burner on you right? Iniesta has a few things he probably sent to you.”
“My burner…?” Leo wasn’t even sure if he still had it or not. Did he have it on him, or was it destroyed in the house explosion? He fumbled around his pockets and inside his coat, but of course it was nowhere to be found. “Must’ve left it in my room, i’ll check later.” Leo mumbled, he had to make sure he found it before someone else who isn’t supposed to.
“I gotta leave you now but obviously we’ll keep contact. Not sure if anyone has said this to you yet but thanks for all your work. What you’re doing is very dangerous if you ask me.” Luis sighed “Stop by at the warehouse at some point if you can, would love to see you again.” and then the line went flat.
Leo swung his head back in frustration, assessing his current situation. He had terrorists on his back, his burner was missing, and he definitely had an enemy in Madrid that soooo wanted him dead. Those might not even be the worst of his problems. Marcelo might’ve been dead because of him, his bones were broken in several different places, he was very behind on all his coursework, Kun and Anto must’ve thought he was dead by now. Had he even spared those two a thought? Leo didn’t even think of them when he saw the report about the attack near the university. How horrible. He was horrible, Leo was sure of it.
“Dollface? What happened….”
Leo snapped out of his thoughts and looked around. He was on the floor with his knees brought up to his chest and his arms shakily holding them in place. His vision was blurry and he could feel fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked. up to find the source of the voice and found Ramos standing in the doorway with bags of takeaway in hand, and his concerned gaze fixed on Leo.
