#i was gonna do a michael owen section where he says something stupid and jamie destroys him over it

[player1064]

Loved your Jamie Carragher character thesis statement post! It actually made me think of a prompt or short story if you are still doing them. A 5+1 story of Gary making Jamie contradict how he acts/personality. Maybe from the viewpoints of others and the +1 can be Gary defending Jamie personality/character. Again love your drabbles and stories!

im ngl i DID set out to do this as a 5+1 but I. ran out of steam a bit (bitches when their meds are out of stock etc). so instead have a 4+0 😅

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Philip.

Phil has abandoned the boardroom and is wandering around Hotel Football in search of snacks when he comes upon a small kitchenette where Jamie is busy swearing at a kettle.

He hadn't realised Jamie was here too, he and the other lads have been stuck in a meeting with Gary for hours now and there'd been no mention of it, but it's not that surprising when he thinks about it.

"Alright, Carra?" he greets, and Jamie turns to him with a muttered fuck.

"Hi, Phil," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Your twat of a brother asked me to fetch him some tea, and –”

He gestures hopelessly at the counter behind him, which is in such a state it looks as though a small bomb has gone off.

"Oh," says Phil. "Tea is really difficult, to be fair. Can't you find one of the staff members to help you?"

"No, I –” Jamie runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "He asked me."  

Redders.

Jamie sees it moments before it happens, in excruciating slow motion – like when a gun goes off in films. Gary’s hovering around Carra, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention, and when he gives up and reaches to jostle Carra’s shoulder Jamie waits for the inevitable snap.

Except, Carra doesn’t snap. He doesn’t jerk away, he looks at Gary and he beams. If it was any other person Jamie could’ve sworn he was leaning in to the touch, because Gary’s hand stays in place even while they talk.

When they’re setting up to film, Gary shifts his chair closer to Carra’s so that their knees are touching, and Carra doesn’t roll his eyes or move away. When Carra tells a joke that’s got Gary doubled over with laughter, Gary spreads a hand between Carra’s shoulder blades and nothing happens.

The whole day is full of things like that, tiny casual touches which should be normal, which are normal for anyone other than Carra. Jamie, worried that he’s gone mad and misremembered a fundamental fact about Carra, even tries an experiment once or twice: he claps a hand on Carra’s back, or he throws an arm around his shoulders in a friendly side hug. Carra twitches at the contact every single time, a miniscule reaction honed out of years of needing to be polite, and he carefully shifts away from Jamie’s touch with a suspicious side-eye.

When they’re leaving the studio that evening to go to the pub, Gary slaps Carra’s bum as he walks through the doorway and all Carra does is grin.

Stevie.

“Who the fuck are you texting?”

“Huh?” Jamie blinks, looks up at Stevie over his glasses like he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, just Gary.”

“Didn’t yous see ‘im earlier today?”

“Yeah, why?”

Stevie is lucky if he gets one text a month from Jamie, even luckier if he sees him in person more than twice a year. It’s never bothered him much, he knows what Jamie’s like, knows that anyone not sat directly in front of him is prone to being dismissed as a distraction. There aren’t really friends in Jamie’s world, just allies and enemies.

So he’s not really sure what to do with this version of Jamie, the one who leaves Gary Neville’s company (and Gary Neville, really?) only to immediately open his phone and start texting Gary Neville.

Every time his phone pings he opens it up and does a stupid little snicker at whatever Gary’s sent him, never mind that he’s meant to be mid-conversation with Stevie. Every bloody anecdote seems to start with ‘so me and Gary were –’, or ‘Gary was saying –’. Even the stories that aren’t about work – as far as Stevie can figure out, there’s rarely a moment that Jamie’s not with Gary, or talking to Gary, or thinking about Gary.

It's weird. It’s almost like how he used to be about football.

Micah.

Micah can’t believe what he’s seeing. It’s time for Sky’s yearly ‘film Neville and Carragher making fools of themselves racing each other in a thinly-veiled attempt to rack up more views’, and Jamie is losing.

Jamie’s a runner, he runs. Gary does fuck all cardio beyond the occasional group fitness class, he should not be a full pace ahead of Jamie at the halfway point, and yet. Gary can’t seem to believe it either, because when he glances back at Jamie he grins and picks up his pace with a gleeful little laugh.

Jamie rolls his eyes for the sake of the cameras, but there’s a moment where Micah could’ve sworn he saw him skip, like he was deliberately trying to slow himself down. Which is impossible, because Jamie would happily out-sprint a child if someone told him it was a competition.

And yet.

When Gary wins he grabs onto Jamie’s arm to support himself while his whole body shakes with laughter, squawking out insults every time he’s able to catch his breath. Jamie laughs along, makes up some poor excuse about his hamstring going, but when he catches Micah’s eye he winks as if they’re both in on the same joke.