Jet Black (Scaimar)

One shot

There are just a few hours left for the first friendly match against Panama after becoming World Champions on December 22. The whole country has mobilized to express their affection to them in any place, and to whomever they can reach. Messi had to leave a restaurant where he went to eat with his family, with police forces keeping the order to preserve his safety. Scaloni was seen from photo to photo, from people ringing his doorbell at his hometown to fans finding him in at a Casilda bakery. Aimar on the other hand, preferred to remain isolated in his home, away from everything and avoiding as much as possible running into even more people than the ones seek for a chance to bump on him on purpose in the neighborhood where he lives. A living hell.

The first training session on Monday passed quietly. It was more of an emotional reunion between the players, the coaching staff and the AFA leaders than a real work day. At any rate, Scaloni asked everyone to be on time for the first training session of three that they would have in order to arrive in optimal conditions as a group against Panama.

Many said that it was an exaggeration to have three training sessions before the game. But the pujatense is no amateur. He knows that the bar is now very high and that it is a responsibility that both he and the players carry on his shoulders to keep such quality. It is obviously expected from them.

Pablo trained with the group that day, somewhat distant but present anyway. Lionel looked at the clock every ten minutes just to have a good excuse to redirect his attention to the Cordoban, resting his foot on a ball, arms folded and keeping distance from everyone.

What's wrong with this dumbass today.

At the end of the day, Scaloni quickens his pace to catch Pablo alone, but on the way he is intercepted by three players and Diego Placente, who asks him if it's possible to bring the boys from the U17 to the training session on Wednesday. Lionel accepts and tells him that he can even bring in whoever he considers useful to train a little with the Major League, a situation that Diego appreciates. But once free, Scaloni sees from the door of AFA's Complex 2 that Pablo's white truck drives away along the paved road towards the entrance.

Tuesday's press conference was quiet. Emotional, of course. So much so that his eyes reddened a little and he was about to tear up when the journalists started chanting 'dale campeón.' But Pablo didn't show up all day and that discouraged him a little.

On Wednesday, Lionel is drinking some mate tea with Luifa and Walter in the first floor office while they finish discussing possible changes in case they are necessary on Thursday, when suddenly the door opens and...

Pablo dyed his hair jet black.

Walter pursed his mouth holding back his laughter. Roberto quickly looked away. Luifa smiled and greeted him, but everyone realized that it was more an amused expression than a casual smile, all because of his hair color choice. Lionel swallowed and looked back at the computer, saying nothing.

The worst was when they went out onto the pitch to meet the players. De Paul was the most obvious, bursting out laughing, to which Messi replied with a hit on the back of his neck. Nobody said anything to him, but everyone realized that from chestnut brown with some gray hair to almost purplish black, there were liters of high-quality dye involved right there.

"Good thing it's not really hot today," Walter whispers close to Lionel's ear as they watch the boys carry the ball toward the goal, walking hand in hand in a circle.

"Yes, there is high humidity, but what can we do about it," Scaloni responds, shrugging.

"No, I mean the dwarf," Samuel adds, referring to their friend Aimar. "If he starts to sweat, the excess of dye that stuck to his scalp will surely start to drip down his face. I can tell you because it happened to my wife once."

Luifa nearly chokes from laughing and covers his mouth so Aimar won't hear him, on the other side of the practice field.

"Dude, stop it. And if you see any player bothering him, stop them because Pablo is going to get super pissed off" Lionel replies.

"Well, he asked for it. Doesn't he know that he has to dye himself with a color that's closer to his natural color? It's obvious everyone's going to laugh at him," argues Walter.

"Yeah, but just, leave it. Whatever." Scaloni puts a hand to his mouth to cover his own smile. It's true. Pablo is probably in his mid-forties crisis or maybe he wanted to beautify himself up for the occasion, but no one dares to mention anything. It would be a suicide mission.

"Let's get this rolling, else we won't make it," comments the older coach.

The U17 boys led by Placente approach the playing field and ninety percent of the youngsters direct their interest first to Aimar's coal colored head and then to Messi's magic on the field. Some guys are lucky enough to be able to train with their elders, which is practically living in cloud nine for anyone, especially being able to share the ball with legendary veterans like Fideo Di María, besides the GOAT. The mood of the group is wonderful until practice ends with a general chat from Scaloni and the rest of the coaching staff. It ends with a general applause for the entire group. All fine... until De Paul can't hold back anymore.

"Man, we have such great sponsors, like L'oreal hair care!" he yells, before dodging a kick from Cuti Romero and a glare from Messi.

The entire team turns their attention to Aimar, expecting the worst.

Pablo looks at them all and crosses his arms, frowning, obviously annoyed. But no one tells him anything. They disperse and before the man from Córdoba can escape, Scaloni grabs him by the arm to keep him away from the rest.

"You have no idea the way you turn me on when you get like that, my little petroleum covered poodle. Get ready for tomorrow night, baby. You won't escape again."

Honey colored eyes grow wide and the flush on his cheeks is partially hidden his beard, but not enough to keep it from being visible to anyone. Aimar keeps his mouth shut. He just looks at the grass and heads towards Scaloni's private office inside the building, because this matter won't end here.

Revenge will be sweet and slow.

-------------------
NOTES: 

Hello! I'm ferreuscelo. I'm from Argentina. My mother tongue is Spanish but I also write in English. This one shot also has a Spanish version but I decided to add the English version because there aren't enough Scaimar fics out there ^^ If you liked it, please consider supporting me on Patreon and join the community to vote on the monthly ficlet. You decide what I write! Thank you beforehand ❤️

SPANISH VERSION: https://www.wattpad.com/story/337578179-alta-biaba