#in terms of that the carraville situation is Not unrequited it's just messy on account of the

[player1064]

october 2023 <3 <3 <3

WIP asks but it's just the various sections of my happy (???) beville (/angsty carraville) WIP

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October, 2023.

Jamie is normally a punctual person, but when it comes to things organised by Gary he tries to be just on the wrong side of late, because he enjoys how fussy he gets about it. Unfortunately, today the traffic was against him and the drive over from Liverpool was an absolute breeze, so now he’s sat in the THG car park wondering if he should loiter for another half hour or just get over it and go in early.

He looks over at Gary’s car, for once parked neatly within the lines, and figures that’s as good a thing to tease him about as any so he might as well just go in.

“And look, look,” he hears Gary saying excitedly as he approaches the studio. “This one’s my seat, right, and then –”

“Where’m I? Next to you?”

“Ooh, steady on,” Gary says, and Jamie can hear the stupid little grin in his voice. “No, that’s Carragher’s spot, you’ll be in the middle. Better camera angle there, anyway.”

Jamie stops just before the double doors that lead on to set, leans against the wall and drops his head back with a dull thud. He’s not sure how he’d managed to forget, Gary’s been pestering the podcast group chat about it for weeks. ‘Remember we’ve got Becks on tomorrow, everyone (👀Jamie) on their best behaviour!!!’

“That’s next to Keaney, right?” he hears Beckham ask. “Then who’s on my other side, Jill or Wrighty?”

“Oh, that’ll be Jill. Wouldn’t want to separate Roy and Ian, they’re fantastic together. And Jill is so excited, y’know, you’re her hero.”

“Aw,” says Beckham, with a bashful little laugh, “hope I don’t disappoint. Bit crazy that, innit? I mean, she’s the one with a European championship under her belt.”

The two of them fall quiet for a moment, which Jamie reads as his opportunity to enter the room without interrupting. This, of course, is a mistake; clearly luck is not on Jamie’s side today. He slips quietly through the door and is going to walk over but stops in his tracks when he sees them.

Beckham’s got Gary pressed up against the counter, his hands spread wide on Gary’s hips and Gary’s arms looped around his neck. They’re not kissing, it might’ve been better if they were – instead they’re stood there, heads tilted in close but not quite close enough for their foreheads to touch, and they’re just talking to each other, voices too soft for Jamie to hear.

That’s not the bad part. The bad part is that Gary and Beckham are laughing at whatever stupid little inside joke they’re sharing, and the smile on Gary’s face isn’t one Jamie’s ever seen before. It’s like he’s glowing, and Jamie’s stomach churns with guilt at walking in on something that feels far more intimate than just kissing.

He’s debating whether he should turn around and leave, wait for one of the others to arrive and walk back in with them, when Gary looks over and catches his eye, his smile faltering. Beckham frowns at him in question, then looks over with a polite smile when Gary nods his head towards Jamie.

Jamie watches Beckham’s hand squeeze Gary’s hip for a moment before he takes a step back, shakes his head at Gary fondly and walks towards Jamie with an outstretched hand.

“Good to see you, Carra,” he greets, and dear god Jamie hates him.

He hates him, he hates him, he hates him.

Jamie shakes the offered hand with his most charming smile. “You too. ‘s been a while, eh?”

“It has, yeah, but you know our Gaz,” he says, looking behind him to shoot a grin at Gary. Gary at least has the decency to be looking at the floor in embarrassment, hands fidgeting. “He’s never liked having crossover between his work and social lives, has he?”

Jamie’s not sure when he was relegated to just ‘work friend’. Maybe he never got out of that category to begin with.

Recording the podcast is excruciating. David Beckham is just a bit too perfect, everyone loves him just a bit too much. Even Roy relaxes around him, lets his guard down. He almost smiles, once or twice. The nation’s sweetheart David fucking Beckham, still thought of as their beloved England captain even now, ten years out of the game.

David Beckham, saving the world one corny inspirational speech at a time. David Beckham, one of the best technical players Jamie’s ever seen, whose talents are so often ignored in favour of the fact that he’s David Beckham. David Beckham who never boasts, who’s flash without rubbing your face in it, who always has time for everyone he meets.

David Beckham, probably the most famous footballer of his generation, who looks at Gary Neville like he hung the moon and stars. Gary Neville.

It’s not fair. He could do better than him. He should have done better than him, found another superstar to shack up with and left the poor mortals alone. Maybe then Jamie would’ve had half a chance.

He just really hates David fucking Beckham.