Win-win.

A/N: Enjoy! :D 

Miranda stopped in front of the entrance of the team’s locker room and fidgeted in her place. She had never felt hesitant or nervous to talk to Neymar before. Actually, they usually spent most of the time teasing each other, and even if they started with the wrong foot at the beginning, they managed to deal with each other and slowly developed a sort of relationship.

"Hello?” She called before knocking on the open door to announce her presence.

Walking into the team’s changing room without granted permission wouldn’t be a wise choice, even if it was most likely empty, she wouldn’t take any chances. She had spent enough time surrounded by famous people and media to know that those kind of reckless actions usually ended in awkward situations and press scandals.

 “Come in,” She heard a too familiar male voice say.

"You better be alone in there, Neymar, and dressed, or else, this is going to end bloody” she warned before walking into the room.

“Hey,” the Brazilian greeted from his sit in one of the large metal benches. His hair was wet, a towel was hanging around his neck and he was only wearing a pair of sports pants.

 He looked her up and down and made a face at her attire. She was dressed in her overlarge team’s green shirt, which had been fixed at the end to suit her better and expose some of her flat belly, she had a small drawing of the Mexican flag in her right cheek and there was a large charro’s hat at the top of her head.

He knew she would be dressed like that during the day. Hell. A few fours ago, he saw her clap and cheer her team while weaving a small Mexican paper flag during the match, and he still couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed and jealous.

Was she really there to scrub in his face the fact that he had lost?

 Okay, so his team actually didn’t lose, they tied, they still had very good prognostics, but he still felt like he had lost somehow, he was just too used to always win.

Surprisingly, she didn’t make any snarky remark as she usually did whenever she had the chance. Instead, she stayed there with a half smile. Miranda was giving him the chance to ask her to leave the room in case he was moody, she wasn’t pushing him and she wasn’t making fun of him, because she knew that he was almost as prideful as him and she understood that if roles were reversed she’d be very pissed and would rather be alone. 

Neymar sighed and flashed her a smirk, she smiled in return and took off her hat to sit in the bench across his.  

“Nice game” she said softly.

“Please, honey, I want many things from you, but pity and fake flatter are not any of them,” he said.

“Pity? Fake flatter? I’m wounded, that came from the heart” She said and palmed her chest as he noticed she had gone as far as to polish her nails with the colors and representative small drawings of her country “you played very well, you know, you always do,” she said softly and meaning every word of it.

“We still lost,” he sighed.

“You didn’t lost, you tied, and, Mr. Awesome, let’s face it, you all needed a good shot of modesty. Besides, it wasn’t as if it was a piece of cake for Mexico’s team,” she said looking him in the eyes.

“I’ll admit they did a lot better than they usually do. Your goalie was just… good,” he said.

“Yeah, your shots were pretty good too, the ‘Goldie’s Head-shot’ was my favorite one” she smiled.