You and Marc spent the day reconfiguring the nursery, seeing as it was thrown together last minute. You hung up all of the Barcelona knick knacks Marc's teammates had bought you guys and soon the nursery was basically turned into a mini Camp Nou. You held Tommy as Marc attempted to fix the fan. He was getting frustrated as the fan wouldn't work, no matter how much he tinkered with it.

You laughed as he shook the fan in anger. "Daddy's not an electrician is he?" you cooed to Tommy who opened his big eyes in response.

"Well, I give up," Marc sighed, climbing down the step ladder.

"It's not fixed, you may have even broken it even more but nice try," you teased. Marc rolled his eyes at you playfully and went to put the stepladder away. Tommy, now fully awake, let out a little whimper. "You hungry?" you asked. His following whine was enough of a yes for you. Marc walked in and stared at you and Tommy in the rocking chair. "Hey, peeping Tom over there, you want to get me a napkin?" you called.

Marc muttered something under his breath before going to the bathroom to get you a napkin. Tommy was full and pulled away. Standing up, you grabbed the napkin from Marc and handed him Tommy. Marc burped him as you cleaned up a bit. Walking downstairs with Marc in tow, you grabbed the mini bathtub you had bought. "What's that for?"

"Well we got to clean him, don't we? And he's long overdue for a bath," you stated, putting the mini bathtub in the sink. You ran the water at a moderate temperature. It was warm but not too warm so as to not scald your newborn. You took Tommy from Marc and unwrapped the blanket from around him. Pulling off his little hat and onesie, he was just let in his diaper. "Do you want to hold him or scrub him?" you asked Marc.

"I'll hold him." Marc put him in the bathtub, only to have Tommy to scream at the top of his tiny lungs. "Hurry up!" You two quickly cleaned your son before wrapping him in a soft towel. Marc comforted him as you dumped out the water.

"See that wasn't that bad, was it?" you cooed to your son who still whined. "I'll take that as a yes." You changed Tommy into a fresh onesie that had the Barcelona crest on the front of it. You put him down for another nap. Life with Tommy was amusing for you, to say the least. Tommy had the capability of hitting his father with whatever bodily fluid was on hand.

When Marc changed his diaper for the first time, his shirt was soon covered in pee. "(Y/N)!" Marc called. You had rushed into the room, thinking that something was wrong. When you saw your husband covered in pee, you burst out laughing. Tommy giggled in his cute little newborn way. "Ha, ha, very funny," Marc muttered. You changed Tommy while Marc went to go shower.

Of course, he couldn't stay home with you and Tommy for long because of football. They had given him a week off but then he was thrust right back into training. You and Tommy saw him off every morning. Standing on the front porch, Marc held Tommy in his hands. "Be a good boy for mommy, okay?"

In response, Tommy spit up and it landed on Marc's shirt. You burst out laughing as your husband sighed. "When you get older, I'm billing you for damages," Marc told Tommy before rushing inside and changing his shirt. You giggled.

"Nice job, Tommy," you cooed, high fiving your son. When Tommy reached two months old, you took him to his first Barcelona game. Forgoing a stroller, you carried your son to the secluded section of the stadium. Shakira sat with Milan and Sasha, talking to Luis Suarez's wife. They both greeted you warmly.

"How's baby life?"

"It's great. He's growing up so fast," you smiled, setting your son on your lap. He looked around at the new environment with his big eyes. You continued talking with a bunch of the other WAGs when the players stepped onto the field. Marc was starting today and you knew he would do great, especially with your son watching. Before you had brought him to Camp Nou, you and your son watched every Barcelona game at home. Your son was always mesmerized by the sport.

The jumbo Tron showed the Barcelona players as a camera passed in front of them. When the camera passed Marc, Tommy got excited. You smiled at his actions. The teams shook hands and walked to their starting positions. Marc and Gerard talked back and forth, assumingly about strategy, before the game started.

Barcelona stole the ball quickly and advanced into their opponent's half. Marc stood behind their striker as a goal kick was given. Marc was taller and headed the ball over to Iniesta. Tommy giggled in his seat. The first half passed with Barcelona establishing an early lead. The second half started and the opponents were visibly frustrated with the score line.

One such player tackled Marc from behind after he had passed the ball forwards. Marc fell down but shot up right afterwards, turning on the guy. The ref ran over and gave the opponent a yellow card before awarding Barcelona a free kick. Marc shook his head before walking away from the offender. The game finished 3-0, Barcelona on top. You talked with Shakira as the both of you walked downstairs to the player's lounge. Tommy looked around for Marc. "Daddy will be here soon," you whispered to Tommy.

Marc emerged from the locker room, his hair wet from a shower, and walked over to you and Tommy. Tommy outstretched his arms. Marc smiled and picked his son up, resting him on his hip. Giving you a quick peck, Marc wrapped an arm around your waist and you guys walked towards the car. You waved goodbye to the others still in the room before turning your attention to the tunnel.

"Great game," you told Marc.

"Thanks. Couldn't play bad in front of my son, now could I?" Marc replied, kissing Tommy's head. You smiled at their father-son interactions as you rounded the corner. Paparazzi were still walking around and you sighed. Marc walked quicker, dragging you along at a faster pace. A few paparazzi guys walked over, flashing their cameras. The only thing that you could here was Tommy's cries. Marc hid Tommy's face in his jacket before the two of you rushed to the car. Tommy still cried as you reached the car. You took Tommy and hopped into the back seat with your son. Marc turned on the car and drove away.

You soothed your son. He stopped crying but tears were still dribbling down his chubby cheeks. You wiped them off. "Shh, it's okay. We won't let anything happen to you, Tommy," you cooed. Your son had been scared to pieces by the stupid paparazzi which enraged you to a new level. Connecting eyes with Marc, you knew he felt the same way.

Tommy fell asleep as Marc carried him inside the house. You sat in bed as Marc walked through the bedroom door. He was still pissed, you could tell. "Stupid paparazzi," he muttered, going into the closet to change. "Who the hell gave them the right to scare our son to tears?" he growled.

"There'll all desperate people, Marc. They're probably going to print those pictures, headlined some false fact, and make a few bucks on it. Don't let them get to you. I'm just as pissed as you are about this but we're just going to have to protect Tommy. Forget about them, let's just make sure he's always okay," you sighed, rubbing Marc's hand soothingly.

Marc sighed too before turning off the light. "Good night," he called.

"Good night," you returned.

A.N. Sorry for the crappy chapter, I'm having major writer's block right now. Any suggestions are welcome.