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Leo doesn't like change.
He isn't angry about Samuel, although he could be, with very little effort. About the way things had gone, and the meaning of the word unfair.
Something to not think about. Especially since Andres is angry enough for all of them, and trying his very best to hide it. Or maybe he's trying to lie to himself about being angry.
(Because it would probably break something important in Andres to be angry at Pep.)
Leo isn't like Andres. It's not something he can help, but he can - will - at least try to like Zlatan.
Even if the man is currently treating him like the kid he hasn't been for years.
The hand ruffling his hair feels tentative, even if the expression on Zlatan's face - isn't.
Leo lets himself relax enough to drop the non-expression on his face. Wonders if Zlatan will be able to tell the difference - maybe from the way his eyes change when he's being this honest.
Zlatan's hand tightens enough to turn the ruffle into a tug, and - yes. That's better.
"Ibra," Leo says, savouring the sounds a little, and smiles like he does at rapidly back-pedalling defenders.
The year before last, some of them still tried to taunt him about being small between plays.
By last year, they had all learnt not to.
For all the changes, he's known most of the guys in the squad for a long time. They know what he's like. They know that he'll let Sylvinho coddle him when he's really upset, and that only Gerard can get him to act like he's still a teenager. The rest of them have always treated him like an equal.
The new guys are all smart - they take their cues from the old guard.
That's the nice thing about Dani. He treats Leo like he's as young as he looks, but understands what it means that Leo lets him.
Plus, he's just a good guy.
"Go talk to Ibra."
"I did."
"That wasn't talking. Come on, he doesn't bite." Grin. "Much."
"Yeah. Okay."
"You know that guy's under a lot of pressure to make it work here, you should - I lost you at pressure, didn't I?"
"I...I don't understand."
Dani stares at him.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're like a different species entirely?"
"Dad used to say that all the time."
Dani thinks Leo's joking because he was joking. He's not.
He doesn't really joke about football.
With Zlatan, it's a bit hard to tell whether he's being serious. It's the way he grins, as if there's always something else behind it.
"...friendly, are you?"
English. Leo knows the last two words, and friend.
Something the two of them aren't. Not yet.
Leo eyes the mandarins that came with breakfast. They're not even remotely round.
Perfect.
He grabs two, stands, and throws one of them at Zlatan's chest, watching him make a blindingly fast catch.
Eyes narrowing. "What…?"
"Play. With me."
It's a good way to communicate - the best way, for Leo.
Other people need words. He knows that, even if he doesn't understand it.
He wonders about the way Zlatan's eyes soften when he's talking to Bojan right up until Gabi calls from Argentina with news on his injury and he finds himself smiling helplessly at the familiarity of that voice. Nobody else in the squad sounds like that. Like home.
Maybe familiarity is the key. After all, as Leo has learnt all these years, everyone needs something, even if Zlatan acts like he doesn't know what that means.
Zlatan treats his kindness like his needs - as if it's something that needs to be hidden. It's obvious what he's thinking, though, when he looks at the younger guys the way Titi used to.
You're so young. You shouldn't get the same bullshit we do.
And that's nice, but.
"Age," Leo tells him, pronouncing each word carefully, "is just a number."
It's one of the few English sayings he knows. Pep taught it to him. He's looking forward to surprising some journalist with it eventually.
After all, his age has never been an excuse for them. Or for him.
Zlatan laughs. It's a nice laugh, loud and unrestrained. The amused look in his eyes feels like warmth on Leo's skin.
His reply is a low mutter. Leo can't make out a single word and probably isn't meant to. He controls the ball Pep had thrown on his chest, instead, and the mister answers for him, with a smile in his voice.
"No, you really don't."
Leo lets the ball drop onto his left foot and taps it toward Zlatan, who spares a moment to look surprised before touching it back with his knee before the ball hits the ground.
Pep isn't laughing, but when Leo glances up at him, he looks as if he wants to.
"Nice to see you're already learning to share."
A part of Leo wants to protest - that hasn't been a lesson he had to learn for years - but Zlatan's grinning as if he understood that, and it's far easier to just share the joke.
Later, he peels a mandarin at the lunch table, careful to preserve its shape. When he's done, he separates the fruit into two exact halves. One half goes on his plate.
Leo offers the other half to Zlatan.
In the name of sharing, they're playing Pro Evo at Zlatan's new house tonight.
He has possibly the biggest TV Leo's ever seen. Looking impressed just makes Zlatan grin wider.
Leo lets him pick first, and he goes for Barca, studying the Zlatan on screen with a little frown on his face as if judging the resemblance.
From habit, Leo picks Inter, which makes Zlatan look at him hard for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.
"I keep forgetting you're not actually trying to get a rise out of me."
His Spanish is improving.
"No. I don't...not with friends."