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carraville · 7 years

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ALL RIGHT KIDDOS WHO’S READY FOR A ROUND OF ‘RANDOM OBSERVATIONS FROM THE TESTIMONIAL THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR CARRICK BUT REALLY WAS FOR CARRAVILLE’

Photos, stellar investigative journalism, and a recounting of being mooned by Jamie Carragher under the cut (sadly no pictures of that im v sorry)

SO I arrived just in time for kickoff and as such was not able to catch any pre-match shenanigans although I’m s u r e there was some bullshit going on and I’ll bet gaz broke his ‘don’t talk to anyone esp not dirty scouse bastards in the tunnel’ rule (more evidence for this later)

Gary didn’t play the first half which was SUPREMELY DISAPPOINTING although I did occasionally look over at the bench and he was.. v pleased with all the boos that carra was getting

Im just saying

He did come on second half and it was GLORIOUS and i am FOREVER MAD AT FERGIE that he DIDN’T PLAY THE WHOLE THING because we would have had 45 more minutes of this:

By now I’m hoping that all of you will have watched Carra clattering into Gaz like a bull in a china shop, if the bull happened to be madly in love with china, but just for fun here are pics from a different angle taken while i desperately tried not to scream in delight for the benefit of the people around me

(You can already see gaz looking up to laugh in awkward reluctant delight and it KILLS ME, these two, i swear to god)

I was very annoyed because Gaz kept switching between CB and RB which means that usually they were on the opposite sides of the pitch and there was not enough interaction buT in order to make up for it I did see jamie carragher’s butt

SO carra obviously doesn’t understand that when you’re wearing white shorts and you’re gonna be sweating u DONT WEAR BLACK UNDERPANTS bc he did and the stretty was giving him stick for it so after a while he just. i dunno. went into carra logic land and yanked his shorts up so that we saw his butt cheeks and i was forever traumatised. even more embarrassing was that my first thought was i hope gaz has been taking care of that butt istg

I don’t have pics because it happened so quickly but in the meantime have a picture of carra’s poor fashion choices (carra fans, eat ur heart out)

Carra was similarly delighted at gaz’s horror show of a miss, they’re so supportive of each other

After the game they imMEDiatEL Y HUGGED each OTHER and istfg they went for each other so fucking quickly i didn’t have time to pick up my camera and snap a photo so instead i only have the immediate aftermath im SORRY REST ASSURED IT MADE MY FANGIRL HEART WITHER AND DIE BC HOW FUCKING CLINGY DO U HAVE TO BE TO GO STRAIGHT TO EACH OTHER

Hugging was obviously not enough so they stood around talking to each other and laughing for a few minutes more and it was totally gross, 10/10 would not recommend

(LOOK HOW FUCKING DUMB AND HAPPY THEY ARE, UNBELIEVABLE, I REFUSE THIS SHIT)

I hope you’ve also seen the postmatch interview which I completely? died? at? I was following gary all over the pitch ofc and he was talking to this guy in a suit. Dare I hope? I asked, fingers trembling as I moved the camera with his walk. Of course they’d fucking interview the two of them, of course. Angels wept. The heavens opened. A chorus of gold-clad choir boys began to sing Hallelujah.

Of course there would be unnecessary touching. It wouldn’t be Carra without unnecessary touching.

AND THEN

AND THEN THE PART YALL DIDN’T SEE - AFTER THEY FINISHED THE INTERVIEW THEY WALKED BACK TO THE GROUP TOGETHER AND

STARTED

SOCIALISING

You know that bit at parties where the hosts come round to every table and talk and chat and laugh while probably being annoyingly and smugly in love?? That was THEm

wazza: so when’s the wedding owen: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) gaz: don’t be silly carra: next tuesday

and after being good host boyfriends they...walked down the tunnel almost next to each other (sidenote carra pull up ur socks man for gods sake)

TLDR it was very gay, it was very wonderful, and I hope that after the lads got piss-drunk tonight there were some shenanigans involved because they’ve completely crossed the line of hahahha this is fun bantz to i actually love u with my heart and soul and they fucking know it, the little shits

#carraville #this has been a post

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carraville · 7 years

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thx @zevons 4 talkin to me about this and giving me Ideas and ending up writing this shit in the miDDLE OF MY ESSAY CRISIS

also for @blindbatalex who I did promise stuff abt gaz awkwardly thanking carra for being such a supportive boyfren uwu

It isn't like coming home, really, not the way he thought it would be. Everything seems tilted, off-balance; Gary notices bits and pieces like how they've done up a new poster, or how they've moved Jamie's parking spot two down. He's just walking towards it when Jamie's car pulls up and Jamie gets out, and it's almost a breath of relief that escapes his mouth. For all the way he's sharpened up since the first year - better ties, sharper shoes - he is still very much the same Scouse bastard who once yelled at him to fuck off and die in a fire on a sunny derby day, and Gary appreciates that. Perhaps a little more than he should.

Jamie's face changes when he sees him; Gary notices the flicker of bewilderment shift to brief, undiluted delight, and then back to the knowing smirk that they have both spent years perfecting. They've only met once in the past few months, after Barcelona. There's still a bitterness to the word as he thinks it. Jamie had been Jamie then too, his arm around Gary without saying anything, easing the tiredness with his familiarity.

"Hi," Gary says.

Jamie raises an eyebrow.

"Not seen me for ages and all you can say is 'hi'."

"Well, what would you like me to say?" Gary flushes, his brows knitting together. It's barely been five seconds and Jamie's already got him on the wind-up. Jamie laughs.

"Nothing." There's a fondness in his voice that Gary both loves and hates in equal measure, and there's a twinge to his smile that makes Gary inhale and exhale again, like he knows it's going to be fine. "You don't have to say anything at all."

They walk into the building side by side, Jamie close enough just so that Gary's shoulder brushes his every once in a while. "Happy Monday, boss," one of the technicians says with a wink and a snide grin. Gary smiles. The corridors are littered with people who are eager to clap him on the back, almost as if Spain didn't exist in this alternate universe.

David shakes his hand and introduces himself with the sort of reverence that will soon disappear after a couple of pints. Then it's off to the clips room and Gary loses himself in the cutting, feeling it come back to him like salvation. They load some of it onto the big screen for the preview and Gary's very aware of the way Jamie keeps smiling at him. It's the long, languid one that reminds Gary of cups of coffee in the morning and sitting on benches for eighteen months. A sort of can't-help-it-ness to it all, a feeling of falling that's so obvious that Gary would have hit him if he didn't know that this was what Jamie was like. Heart on his sleeve. Haven't looked at anyone like that since Gary left.

He calls him out on it, of course, because he knows it'll get under Jamie's skin. David laughs and says, "he's just happy to have you back." Jamie flushes and looks down, but he can't seem to stop smiling, all shy and dorky like a teenager once more. Gary hates a little bit how easy it comes to him. He'd seen Jamie's appearance on League of Their Own, of course, the way Jamie answered 'love him' immediately, without having to pause and think about how strong a word it was. He wonders if what Jamie means and what he thinks it means are the same thing.

They're sitting in the Soccer AM lounge as they always do before the show and Jamie leans over to give him a nudge in the shoulder. "Hey," he says, almost like he's genuinely concerned. "You okay?"

Gary must have been staring into space again. "Yeah." He looks down at his hands, and then turns to Jamie. "No."

It's hard for him even to get that admission out, and even when he's said it he blinks like he wants to take it back. He's Gary Neville - he doesn't admit things, not least to Professional Co-Workers - emotions aren't things that are supposed to exist in his dictionary. Then again neither was Jamie Carragher. And Jamie is looking at him the way he does, all intent and earnest and caring.

It makes Gary uncomfortable, a little bit. It's hard to keep up the whole banterous rivals who still hate each other thing when one of them so clearly doesn't. Jamie probably does it on purpose. The bastard.

"You'll be fine." Jamie gives him an encouraging grin. "Honest. At least this is something you've done before. Not well, but y'know."

Gary scoffs, a bit of colour coming back into his cheeks. "Better than you."

"You wish. I held down the fort while you abandoned me and the kids for your summer fling, I've gotten pretty good at this."

There it is again. Gary turns red and Jamie looks over, a conspiratorial smirk on his face.

"Thanks, Carra."

"No worries."

"And - " this one's doubly hard, but it has to be said; Gary can't count the number of times Phil knocked on his door in Valencia, grinning like an absolute tool, another article clutched in his hands. The I'll miss hims written between the lines of he'll always be a good pundit. He wishes he knew when they had gotten to that stage, that he could tell exactly what Jamie was thinking without him even being there. "Thanks for, y'know. The back-up. The. Um. Belief."

It's Jamie's turn to look awkward and he rubs the back of his neck as if reaching for something to do. "Ah, y'know," he says off-hand, scuffing the floor with his shoes. "They were giving you a lot of stick. And that's my job."

"Still." Gary tilts his head and sort of makes a little hand gesture, as if that could convey everything. Jamie's eyes are searching as he stares, and then in the calculated balance of seriousness and banter that he seems to have mastered over their three years together, he says:

"Love ya, ya daft twat."

Gary's brain might have short-circuited. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out, and Jamie thinks this immensely funny. "Don't worry," he rolls his eyes, standing up and heading for the door. "I know you can't say the L-word because you're an emotionally repressed Manc. But I do mean it."

Then he leaves, and Gary stares at the door not knowing what to think.

The show goes better than expected; David is nervous but hides it well and Jamie is at the peak of his gleeful rubbing-it-in prowess. Gary thinks he comes off it all right, even managing to squeeze in a crack at Jamie before the night's out. And then David asks him about Jamie and management.

Gary wants to make another joke. It's all laid out for him, and all he has to do is pick and choose the easiest duck shoot: as long as it's not in Spain, Spaniards trying to speak English, a Scouser trying to speak English; the only thing he'd be able to coach them in is own goals; as long as they're happy with not winning the league for twenty years.

Which is why he chooses, instead, to say, "he's got the right type of brain for it."

Jamie blinks. And he keeps on blinking as Gary talks, his surprise mirroring Gary's own. Shakes his head ever so slightly when Gary says "he'll get bored of sitting here next to you and me". Smiles a little bit, as if he understands what Gary's trying to tell him, about trust and belief and gratitude, without having to say the L-word out loud.

After the show they walk back to their cars together, still close enough that Gary can feel Jamie's shoulder through his jacket. Jamie's car is closer and Gary follows him there before turning away, but Jamie catches his sleeve.

"Thanks," he says. "For the belief."

Gary gives him a small smile.

"No worries. I figured no one else was going to do it."

Jamie rolls his eyes even then. "And, um." He coughs out a laugh, though they both know it's his way of pretending. "That thing I said. I know it's a strong word. I won't say it again."

"But you do," Gary sighs like he finds it annoying. Jamie smirks.

"Unfortunately."

Gary stands in the middle of the carpark and watches Jamie drive off, heart still on his sleeve, and feels his own begin to leak a little bit, red dripping down his arm and pooling in his clenched fist. He waits till Jamie turns at the end of the road and then it's all quiet, just him and the sliver of moonlight that flashes through the trees.

"I do too, you know," he says.

#carraville #hi idk what this is but HAVE ITm #my fic

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