#have i actually explained this au properly. BASICALLY gaz and becks get together when theyre very young

[player1064]

march 2014

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

salford time let's gooooooo.. I know in real life becks didn't get in on Salford until like 2019 but in this universe there's obviously no Miami bc he's not rich enough so he can have Salford be his little project instead. as a treat

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March, 2014.

“Wha’d’you think about buyin’ a football club?”

“Babe, I know you hate the Glazers but I’m not sure we’ve got a spare billion lying around.”

“I don’t hate –” Gary shakes his head, dismissing that line of argument. “I wasn’t thinkin’ United, you twat. I was thinkin’ a project. Somewhere small, non-league. Proper local, like.”

David looks at him with a squint that says he knows he’s not got any actual say in the matter, then he rolls his eyes and asks “so what’s the club, then?”

Gary beams at him, hops onto his spot on the couch next to him. “Oh, Becks, it’s brilliant,” he says. “I went by there the other day, the grounds are fallin’ apart around them. There’s a committee of volunteers runnin’ it, they’ve hardly got any cash at all.”

Now to convince the other four.

*

“One of us’ll  ‘ave to run it, won’t we? The day to day, like.”

Ryan and Nicky both immediately raise their hands in a ‘not it’ sort of gesture, which is exactly what Gary had been expecting. They’re both too busy at United, and too impatient to have any sort of heads for business. Phil seems like he’s buzzing a bit, all nervous or excited energy that he can’t quite keep in. But he thinks he’s stupid, so he’ll never volunteer himself.

Becks crosses his arms and turns with a smirk to Scholesy, who in return shoots him a look of resignation.

In sync, the two of them turn back to Gary expectantly.

After a moment’s silence, Becks raises an eyebrow and says “go on then, Gaz, make your pitch.”

“There’s no pitch!” he says quickly, then cringes a bit at how squeaky his voice had come out. “But if none of you lot want to do it – I am good at this business stuff, in’t I? And I know about all the – administrative bollocks, that comes with a football club. More’n any of you, anyway.”

Everyone shrugs in a sort of disinterested agreement, and with that Gary’s quite happy to call it a day. Except for the fact that David clears his throat, looks around the room.

“Can I make my pitch, now?” he asks Gary, still with that stupid perfect smirk of his.

Gary waves him on.

“You’ve already got your businesses, and you’ve got Sky, and the England job. Most people, just one ‘a those would be their full time job. And I know I’m not that clever, an’ I don’t know the first thing about running a football club, but you can teach me all that.”

What he doesn’t say, what Gary knows he won’t say in front of all their friends, is that he’s been out of the game six months and he’s already bored out of his mind. David has always been someone that’s in constant motion, always working, always chasing after the next opportunity – the photoshoots, the charity fundraisers, the ‘inspiring the next generation’ speeches. And he’s still got all that, but now there’s this the big football-shaped hole at the centre of his universe that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Sometimes, Gary wishes they’d had the option of starting a family. David would’ve been a great father, he’s seen the way he is with Phil’s kids. Gary, probably not so much, but he’d’ve tried. He’d’ve tried. Maybe then they’d have both had a reason to slow down a bit, to try enjoy what they’ve got instead of always pushing for more, more, more.

Or maybe that’s just who they are. Maybe that’s what made them great. What made them legends.

Gary had been looking forward to getting his hands dirty at Salford. He’s already got pages and pages of notes, stacks of books in his study about running a football club.

He loves David best when he’s working, when he’s focused. Stood alone on the training pitch at the Cliff, hours after everyone else has gone home. Just one more kick, Gaz, then I’m done. Top right corner. Crossbar. And again. From further back, this time. Faster. Stronger. Again. Again. Perfect. Again.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, Becks,” he says softly, reaching for his hand under the table to give it a squeeze.

*

“The documentary crew want to film everyone at home. Show that we’re down to earth, I think.”

“Well they can fuck right off then, can’t they?”

“Gary…” David sighs.

It had been Gary’s idea, the Salford documentary. It feels like they’re on the verge of something here, something special. His whole body hums with the anticipation. So of course he’d want that on camera, want the whole country to see what he and his friends are capable of.

Maybe he hadn’t entirely thought through what a documentary would entail.

“Fine,” he concedes. “You film in the house, me in the penthouse? When’s the last time we did anythin’ up in there, should probably get a designer in to make it more modern, right? And then the house, where d’you think they’ll want to film? Living room? Kitchen? Best swap out the photos in all the downstairs rooms, just t’be safe.”

“I'm sorry.”

The words stop Gary in his tracks, make him turn to blink dumbly at David.

David's lips are pressed tightly together, his brow furrowed. He really does sound sorry, which is absurd because it's hardly his fault they're in this situation. It's not anyone's fault. It's just football.

When David had got his first boot deal, when more attention started being turned on him, he'd asked his agent what would happen, if the press heard I was dating someone that's not a girl, and had received a pretty definitive answer. And again, when Sir Alex had found out years later. And again, and again, and again.

There are some things a footballer just can't be.

Neither of them are footballers anymore. Or maybe they won't ever be anything but footballers.