Ingrid hadn’t really slept all week.
Not since she had woken up hungover, with the realization that she had needed to end her relationship in order to save it in the end.
Bit of a painful situation, and apparently it was only coupled by a distinct realization.
Without really realizing it, the Norwegian had gotten acutely used to sleeping with a certain Spaniard in her bed.
And it wasn’t a sex thing exactly, although that didn’t hurt. It was the feeling of being in bed alone so suddenly, after months of having a warm body curled into her. Or being cuddled into a warm body. One always sleeping on top of the other, no real agenda of where one ended and the other began.
It hadn’t really been a phenomenon that the brunette had gotten used to before. Her and Maia were young when they started dating, too young for their parents to let them spend the night at each others houses, and by the time they had gotten old enough to have their own places, Ingrid was moving and suddenly they were separated.
Most of her nights with Maia had ended in sex, with one or both of them passing out after, separated and on opposite sides of the bed by the morning.
But it had never been like that with Mapi. Ingrid wasn’t really a touchy feely person, but somehow the Spaniard really brought it out of her. It was as though the brunette’s body needed to be touching the defender if she was around, even in her sleep. She spent her nights with Mapi rolled half on top of her, or her half on top of Mapi, her head tucked under the blonde’s chin and right over her heart, the soft thrum of her heartbeat lulling Ingrid to sleep gently.
Yeah, Ingrid had gotten really used to that. To the point where now she laid in bed at night, staring up at her dark ceiling, her thoughts racing and her body entirely incapable of going to sleep. The whole situation is made a million times worse by the fact that it feels slightly like everything in Ingrid’s life is on the precipice of imploding.
Is it actually? No, no it is not. But to the midfielder, it feels like it is. Especially when she needs her body to relax and go to sleep. Every single mistake, offense, embarrassing moment seemed to come back to her in haunting detail, right when she needed the sleep the most.
It was frustrating, and nothing seemed to help. No amount of melatonin, or running, or warm cups of herbal tea seemed to do a thing for the Norwegian, and she woke up every morning running on about three hours of sleep, the bags under her eyes deepening, and her entire body feeling sluggish.
She managed to chug cups of coffee before work, stepping onto the pitch with the same energy and keen mind that she usually has thanks to the copious amounts of caffeine.
It’s been four days since Mapi left her house, four days since Ingrid had made up her mind that she needed to stop this before she ruined it for the both of them.
And the brunette was fine, but the exhaustion was catching up with her. She refused to let it though, not needing another thing added to her plate. So she put on an excellent show when she was at practice, dazzling smiles and laughing, almost as though she’s trying to prove to whomever is watching that she’s perfectly fine.
But the blonde sees through the charade instantly, can tell that something is up. Ingrid catches Mapi watching her with a raised brow after she laughs at one of Patri’s jokes that was nowhere near funny enough to warrant the reaction she gave it, but the Norwegian blushes and turns away after she realizes that Mapi is looking at her.
The Spaniard waits for her moment to comment on the situation, though, until about an hour later, when the entire team is scrimmaging. Mapi and Ingrid are on separate teams, but the blonde manages to tag herself off for a substitution during one of the rounds, letting Marta run on for her as she subtly slid onto the sidelines, glancing over at Ingrid quickly.
The midfielder was talking to one of the assistant coaches, seemed to be discussing a tactical move of some sort, and so Mapi bided her time, pretending to be incredibly interested in the game as she waits for when Ingrid inevitably finished talking to the coach.
It takes her a few minutes, but eventually the coach gets called away, and Mapi jumps at her opportunity. She walks over to Ingrid slowly, and she watches as the brunette realizes that she’s approaching, turning her head as she looks at Mapi with a surprised expression on her face.
It’s not entirely unwarranted. Her and Ingrid haven’t exactly been talking right now, apart from the usual good morning when they went into the changing room and whatever group conversation is happening when the two are around each other. Mapi feels slightly like Ingrid is a passing ship, so close and yet somehow never able to reach her.
But that also means that Mapi has had to watch in real time as something, though she’s not exactly sure what, starts to ravage Ingrid.
The Spaniard classifies herself as someone who notices things, it’s just what she does. She’s watchful, always looking at those around her, cataloging things. Especially for those who are closest to her.
And Ingrid is one of the people she’s closest to, even if they aren’t exactly on the simplest of terms right now. It doesn’t negate the fact that Mapi knows Ingrid, knows what she looks like, her expressions, her voice and cadence, her reactions.
And it had happened slowly, but Mapi was watching as something began to transform on the brunette’s face. The bags under her eyes grew, getting darker and deeper until finally the Norwegian broke out the concealer bottle, covering any evidence of the growing bags.
Her heightened expressions, as though she was overcompensating for…something. Mapi just isn’t sure what that thing is exactly.
It’s also probably not her place but…well Mapi was concerned. Enough to work up her bravery to go and speak directly to Ingrid and ask her if she was alright. Because regardless of their relationship status, Mapi would always care for the brunette.
No matter what.
So she takes the surprised look in Ingrid’s eyes and shoves it in her back pocket, instead charging ahead to ask the midfielder what’s going on.
“Hi,” Mapi says quietly, even though there is nobody else around her. She wants to be respectful, and she also wants Ingrid to know that she’s serious, something that the brunette seems to pick up on immediately.
“Hey,” Ingrid responds simply, her expression open as she looks at Mapi curious.
“Is everything okay? I mean…is everything alright with you? It seems like something is up and I just, I want to make sure you’re okay,” Mapi finally let out in one breath, breaking her eye contact with the midfielder to look out at the scrimmage as she spoke. When she’s done speaking though, she looks back at Ingrid to see her expression.
The Norwegian’s eyes had widened in surprise. She had seen Mapi looking at her, but she hadn’t realized that she had noticed that something was wrong. Maybe it was naive of her to think that she’d been doing a great job of hiding it, but somehow she’d been hopeful still.
She looks down at her cleats for a moment, before looking up and out at the pitch, thinking for a moment. She couldn’t, and didn’t want to tell Mapi about what was going on. It wasn’t the place, or the time, and they weren’t at a spot in their relationship to be having this discussion, not with what had gone down not a week ago.
But the brunette also knows that she would sooner shoot herself in the foot before she lied to the blonde, so she thinks for a moment before replying.
“There is something going on with me, but it’s nothing life threatening or that urgently important. And I appreciate that you noticed, and you asked, but I don’t want to have to burden you with something else right now, not with where we are. I promise, when we figure this out, I will explain it to you. But for now, and believe me I see the irony in the statement I’m about to say, I just need you to trust me on that.” Ingrid finished gently, looking over at Mapi as she said the last few words, at the unreadable expression on the blonde’s face.
It shifts into one of understanding after just a moment, and it takes her a few seconds but eventually the Spaniard nods slowly as she bit her lip, clearly not entirely happy about Ingrid’s response but doing her best to respect it.
“Promise me that if it’s important enough to be an urgent problem, you’ll tell me?” Mapi asked hopefully, her face full of concern, and Ingrid softened, nodding insistently.
“I promise, Maps,” Ingrid insisted, and Mapi tried to ignore the way that the nickname caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach.
There’s only one thing on Mapi’s brain as she walks away, light in the chest for the first time in what feels like days.
“I promise, when we figure this out, I will explain it to you.”
Not if.
When.
—
By the time Mapi is settled in her seat on the airplane headed home after the game against Alhama, Ingrid has already pulled her crossword book out, and is digging in her bag looking for a pen. The Norwegian grumbles as she rummages through her bag, letting out a disgruntled noise as she realizes that she left her pen in the hotel, leaning back with a sigh.
She looks over to her left at Mapi who is sitting on the window, who is posed with a pen waved out toward Ingrid, an almost comically large smile adorned on her features. Ingrid rolls her eyes gently, reaching out to take the pen from Mapi before the blonde pulls it back at the last moment. Ingrid’s eyebrow fly up in surprise, as she swipes her hand out to grab the pen again, but again Mapi pulls it back, her smile devilish and playful.
“Hey!” Ingrid says as she lunges for it again, leaning up and out of her seat and practically ending up in Mapi’s lap in order to get the pen out of her hand. She ends up with her hand on the seat of Mapi’s chair in between her legs, the side of her body pressed into Mapi’s chest, her face right in hers.
She doesn’t realize how close she is until it’s too late, and suddenly her face is right in Mapi’s as her hand freezes around the pen, Mapi’s own movements halted by their proximity.
Mapi smells like rosewood and something musky, and it entirely overwhelms Ingrid, knocking her on her ass (metaphorically, of course). There’s light streaming through the window of the plane, and it illuminates Mapi’s eyes, the honey golden in the big pools of brown, the soft freckles that dust over her nose. The suppleness of her lips as Ingrid’s gaze entirely drops down to them, the blonde watching as it happens in live time.
Mapi, for all her talk, has entirely lost any and all trains of thought that she previously had. Because suddenly Ingrid is right there, looking at her with those forrest green eyes, her mouth parted in surprise, and then her gaze is dropping down to
“Uh…why do I feel like I’m interrupting the start of a porno or something?”
Ingrid is back in her seat, pen in hand, in about two seconds flat at the sound of Claudia’s voice, her entire face flushing a deep shade of red. Mapi looks half startled, half confused, looking back at Claudia, who is sitting in the row behind them, with skepticism written across her face.
“What kind of porn are you watching that happens on a plane?” Mapi asks, and if it was possible for Ingrid to blush any deeper, it was happening, right in this moment.
“María!” The Norwegian hissed, looking first at Claudia and then at Mapi, who is looking at her expression of surprise.
“What, it’s a valid question!” Mapi says indignantly, before looking back at Claudia with another skeptical expression.
Claudia sputters for a moment, her face flushing, when Patri rises from her spot next to Claudia, deciding that she needed to get in on this thrashing.
“Yeah Claudia, what is this I’m hearing about you and planes?” Patri asks slyly, and Mapi smiles as Claudia’s eyes widen at Patri’s words, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to find something to respond with.
“This was supposed to be about you two being annoying and couply again, not getting me into whatever hole you two have dug for me!” Claudia says accusingly as she finally finds her voice, looking between Patri and Mapi with an angry expression. Mapi has no response for that, and Patri simply shrugs before responding.
“Yeah but we annoy them about how in love and stupidly romantic their lives are all the time, you have to switch it up every once in a while! And to be fair, you walked yourself right into that one,” Patri stipulated, and Ingrid relaxed into her seat, thinking that she had gotten away with that one. Mapi looked over at her with a smirk, seemingly having won this non-argument between the two.
“Oh and by the way? You two are disgusting,” Patri adds before she drops back into her seat, and Claudia grins down at them triumphantly before she joins Patri. Ingrid looks over at Mapi with an unamused expression as the smirk drops off the Spaniards face as Patri’s words wash over her.
“Lovely plan, dear. You’re sleeping on the couch,” Ingrid deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from her voice before she clicked her pen open, crossing her leg as she opened her book, picking up a crossword she had been forced to stop while in the midst of doing it.
Behind her, Patri is forced to clumsily cover up Claudia’s laugh with a well timed cough that has both the blonde and brunette looking back at the row behind them with suspicious expressions on their face.
—
Mapi and Ingrid make it back to Ingrid’s place well after dinner time, having had some delays at the airport. They don’t talk about the fact that Mapi simply steps toward Ingrid’s car when they all get dropped off, simply accepting it and choosing silence.
Ingrid certainly isn’t going to complain.
The two drive home in relative silence, watching the sun set over the horizon as they drive home, sending up splashes of pink and orange across the sky. It’s breathtaking, and Ingrid almost doesn’t want to get out of the car when they make it home. She does though, grabbing both her and Mapi’s suitcases from the trunk as Mapi unlocks the door for her.
It squeezes Ingrid’s heart in the best way that Mapi still has the key to Ingrid’s house, that she somehow never ended up getting rid of it. They both step into the house, with Mapi taking the luggage from Ingrid to go put it away until they’re able to unpack it.
“You weren’t serious about that whole sleeping on the couch thing, right?” Mapi yells out from the bedroom, joking as she sets her and Ingrid’s luggage against the wall, her girlfriend having moved into the kitchen to start washing her hands before she begins to make them dinner.
“No!” Ingrid says quickly, immediately cringing at how fast and sharp she had responded to such a light joke. Her only hope is that perhaps the water pressure helped to dull the slight desperation in her tone, and she holds onto that hope until she turns after drying her hand, finding Mapi standing against the counter with her head tilted in confusion.
“It’s nothing Mapi, really,” Ingrid reasserts, but Mapi shakes her head slightly, not accepting the easy answer.
Ingrid watches as Mapi shakes her head and promptly deflates, realizing that putting up a fight probably isn’t worth it. She had promised Mapi that when they reconciled, that she would explain everything, and she wasn't about to break that promise.
That, and honestly?
Ingrid is really, really tired.
All of the exhaustion that has infiltrated Ingrid’s body in the past week seems to rise to the surface, flooding into her body and causing the entirety of the Norwegian’s body to deflate, her shoulders caving in, her entire posture slumping from her spot next to the sink.
Mapi’s eyebrows immediately furrowed, first at the fact that Ingrid didn’t seem to be putting up any argument to her pushing a little bit, and secondly because of the way that everything about the brunette just seemed to fall inward, her entire body language changing in just a fraction of a second.
It’s enough for the blonde to push off from her spot pressed against the counter, walking around to stand in front of Ingrid, just a few inches from the brunette. She reached her hand up, running her thumb over Ingrid’s forehead, down over her cheek and jawline until it landed directly on her jaw, using her hand to gently press Ingrid’s chin up, encouraging the Norwegian to look up at her.
Ingrid raises her gaze from where it had been, staring directly at her shoes, to the eyes of the blonde, at the patient and concerned brown eyes she finds looking back at her.
“What's going on, mi princesa,” Mapi murmurs softly, her calloused thumb rough against the smooth skin of Ingrid’s jawline.
The brunette sighs lightly at the blonde’s words, trying her best to put on a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and she knows that Mapi can tell.
“I haven’t um…I haven’t been sleeping that well recently,” Ingrid mumbled quietly, so quietly that Mapi almost doesn’t hear her, but she does. She furrows her brows slightly at the comment, trying to think if this was something that Ingrid had dealt with in the past.
“Have you ever had any problems with not being able to sleep?” Mapi asked softly, and Ingrid shook her head in response, taking a deep breath before she continued.
“No, but I think I just…” she trails off, unsure of whether or not she should say it.
But she knows that she needs to be honest, and this is as good a place as any to start, she supposes. She pushed back, walking to stand further down the counter, away from Mapi and her intoxicating scent and mildly distracting presence.
“I think I just got used to sleeping with you, and to have you gone so suddenly felt weird. That, combined with everything else I think, I just…there was always so much noise when I tried to sleep, and I couldn’t seem to get my brain to turn off.” Mapi opened her mouth to speak but Ingrid beat her to it, realizing that there was more she needed to say.
“And! And I know that I shouldn’t need you here to sleep, that’s not healthy, and it’s something I want to work on. I just don’t want you to think I depend on you when I don’t, and there’s no obligation for you to stay here because I am totally fine on my own if I need to, I can do it. Like really, I don’t want you to think–”
“Ingrid.” Mapi cut the Norwegian off firmly, one eyebrow raised as she levels the brunette with a look. Ingrid closes her mouth, chewing on her lip nervously as Mapi walks toward her slowly, her face reading nothing but kindness and compassion.
“I don’t think that you rely on me, and I also know that I’m not going anywhere,” Mapi started simply, watching as the brunette relaxed before her very eyes, her face softening as the blonde walked over to her.
“We’ve both had a pretty shitty week, objectively you more so than me, but still. And it’s entirely understandable to be having a hard time, especially with sleeping. Ingrid, we all have things about us that aren’t perfect, or that we need to work on.”
“And really, in the grand scheme of things, being more relaxed and sleeping better when your girlfriend, who is hopelessly obsessed with you and wants to spend all of her time with you? Might not be the highest of priority,” Mapi said, and Ingrid found herself letting out a little laugh at the joke, tears rimming her eyes.
“Ingrid, I really appreciate you being honest and telling me what’s going on. You aren’t too much. Your struggles? Whatever they may be? About this, about your past, about your future - they aren’t too much. They’re a part of you, but they’re not everything.” Mapi said softly, resting her forehead against Ingrid’s.
The Norwegian let the Spaniard words wash over her as the first tear rolled down her cheek and landed silently on the floor, more running to follow it.
“Thank you,,” Ingrid responded, but the words were hoarse and quiet, emotion overtaking her ability to project her words. Mapi stepped into the brunette, wrapping her arms around Ingrid’s abdomen and resting her chin on Ingrid’s shoulder. The midfielder readily accepts the hug, wrapping her arms around Mapi’s neck and squeezing for just a moment, hoping to convey her gratitude to Mapi through both her actions as well as her words.
They stay like that for just a moment before Mapi finally steps back, lacing her hand in Ingrid’s and pulling her from the kitchen.
“What are we doing, what about dinner?” Ingrid questioned as they walked from the kitchen to the bedroom, her expression scrunched adorably as she followed Mapi easily.
“We can order food, you really don’t need to cook…” Ingrid let out a yawn, reaching up to cover her mouth quickly,”...you look like you’re about to fall asleep where you’re standing,” Mapi cautioned as Ingrid closed her mouth, a blush spreading across her face.
“Food, shower, bed?” Ingrid asked hopefully, and Mapi relaxed, smiling as she nodded as she began to reach for her phone.
—
After the two ordered food and took a quick shower (making sure to conserve water of course), Mapi crawled into bed, watching Ingrid as she brushed her hair out, eyeing the bed skeptically.
“It’s not going to eat you alive, you do know that, right?” Mapi teased, and Ingrid scoffed before she smiled despite herself, some of her nerves washing away.
“It’s just a bed Ingrid, and it’s just sleep. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I know for a fact you’re exhausted,” Mapi stated as a simple fact, and Ingrid had the audacity to shake her head slightly, her stubbornness coming out despite the situation.
“You yawned like seven times while we were in the shower, really?” Mapi countered, and Ingrid actually did laugh out loud at that, walking over to her side of the bed and beginning to set an alarm.
“No, no, no alarm,” Mapi chastised, shaking her head.
“Really, Mapi?” Ingrid objected, but Mapi shook her head resolutely.
“We have nowhere to be tomorrow, nothing to do. Let yourself sleep, please? For me too, honestly I could use a good night's sleep too,” Mapi assured, and that seemed to do the trick, Ingrid slowly setting her phone down and crawling into bed.
Mapi immediately opened her arms, letting the Norwegian wriggle into her.
And suddenly, just like that, everything around the brunette was Mapi.
All she could smell was the rosewood and vanilla of Mapi’s perfume, and the warmth that seemed to radiate off the blonde. At how soft the skin of her arms were, and the way that some of her hair fell down and tickled Ingrid’s neck. At the slow rise and fall of her chest against Ingrid’s, and the steady beating of her heart.
Everything about it is comfort. Familiarity. Safety. Security.
Ingrid never felt more safe than when she was in Mapi’s arms, and today was no different.
The Norwegian fell fast asleep in record time, her chin pressed against Mapi’s sternum and the steady thrum of the Spaniard's heartbeat in her ear.
—
When Ingrid woke up, her and Mapi were still wrapped around each other, Ingrid nestled into Mapi’s side as the blonde slept soundly.
The light from the curtains splashed into their room, illuminating Mapi’s tanned, toned limbs. Ingrid could feel the steadiness of her breathing, the rise and fall, the little snuffling noise she made sometimes when she slept.
Ingrid pulled back slightly, intent on getting up and starting to go about her day, but Mapi moaned slightly, pulling on Ingrid’s hand and bringing the Norwegian back into bed. Ingrid got back in begrudgingly, and the Spaniard, still half asleep, wrapped her arm around where Ingrid was now lying on the bed, pressing her front entirely into Ingrid’s back, pulling her back into the warmth.
Ingrid found herself drifting off to sleep somehow, the last thing she remembered seeing was the clock, reading that it was only 8:02am.
—
When Ingrid wakes up again, Mapi is rubbing soothing circles over her stomach, and the clock reads 11:37am.
The brunette’s eyes widen when she realizes that she slept for over 12 hours last night, and she lifts her head in surprise. She can feel Mapi shift, her arm loosening its grip on Ingrid’s abdomen before the Norwegian let herself fall back into bed.
She turned over so that she could face Mapi, her eyes blinking slowly and sleepily as she continued waking up.
“Morning,” Mapi whispered softly, her eyes batting at Ingrid gently.
Ingrid loved how Mapi looked in the morning, all soft angles and gentle expressions, warm skin and sleep tousled hair and possessive, tender hands. The light that filtered into the room lit up Mapi’s back, and it looked like there was a halo around her blonde hair, framing her face from it’s spot on the pillow.
Ingrid leaned forward, pressing a soft, slow kiss to Mapi’s lips. She brought her hand up to hold the Spaniards cheek, rubbing her thumb over Mapi’s cheek before she reached with that same hand and ran it through Mapi’s blonde hair, pulling back as she looks Mapi over.
Ingrid leaned in, pressing a kiss to Mapi’s forehead first, and then her temple, then the space between her eyebrows, the tip of her nose, over each cheek, her jawline, her chin, and finally at her lips again. Everywhere that she could reach really, she placed a kiss to, trying to imbue her love into the defender, trying to show her how much she cared.
Once she was satisfied with her affection she let herself rest back, her cheek hitting the pillow as she simply looked at Mapi, her hand still on Mapi’s cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth slowly.
“Thank you,” Ingrid finally murmured lightly, and Mapi smiled, leaning into Ingrid’s hand, bring her own to cover Ingrid’s letting her fingers thread into the spots between Ingrid’s fingers, lazing their fingers together.
“Always,” the Spaniard responded simply.
Because to her, it was that simple.
Mapi loved Ingrid with everything in her heart, and there wasn’t a single thing that would stop her from doing exactly that.