crack_van | It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere by rave (r)

Fandom: FOOTBALL (SOCCER) RPF
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Length: 6,000 words
Author on LJ:

dorkorific
Author Website: fic tag on LJ

Why this must be read: If there's a better writer of this tragic transfer pairing out there, please point her out to me. I was this close to reccing This Bitch of a Country before I realized that it was already on

crack_van under a different pseud. Luckily I remembered also reading this one, which is equally funny and endearing and all kinds of heartbreaking. I love the way that this author forces these two men to face their attraction to each other without ever glossing over the complications, including the women in their lives. And I especially love how I can hear their distinctive voices loud and clear in every conversation that she writes between them.

"I got what you meant," he finds himself saying to Xabi, at some point. The two of them are the only ones not absorbed in Pennant's strip-club stories. Xabi is watching the team's uproar with that calm amusement of his.

Stevie says, "When the team's your whole life, the thing that makes you happier than anything, of course you love the people who...who can make you happy like that. It is a bit gay, really."

"Yes," Xabi says. He thumbs foam from his upper lip. "And it's funny to me when Carra is saying is not sexual. Okay, sure, but it is –" He grips Stevie's wrist for a second with strong, sure fingers. "Física. Yes? It's physical love. When you are playing with a team, everything is the body. The movement, the power, the, uh, the adrenaline?" He raises an eyebrow questioningly, and Stevie nods. "The adrenaline. What you love is your body, how well it works with your teammates' bodies. This is maybe not sexual but it is very much like sex." He laughs a little. "The ball going into the goal, that's very obvious, no?"

With anyone else, Stevie would know how to answer. He'd say something like, Your girlfriend know about all these feelings you've been having? Or he'd lean in close and flutter his eyelashes and say Love me for my body, do you? But with Xabi and his quiet frankness and unreadable half-smile Stevie feels tongue-tied and clumsy.

He takes a long drink and then says lightly, "This is some Spaniard thing, is it, being all sophisticated and comfortable with your gay urges or whatever?"

"I don't know. Ask Pepe," Xabi says, nodding at their teammate. Stevie can't hear what Pepe's saying, though the vulgar gestures he's making seem pretty omnisexual.

"I bet Pepe'd be up for it," Stevie says thoughtfully. "Helpful sort, Pepe. Generous. Nice big hands."

"Oh yes," Xabi agrees. "Although afterwards he wants always to talk about his feelings."

Stevie grins at him. "So you lot are just very secure in your manhood."

"Maybe," Xabi says. "Or, maybe I don't care. Or maybe I am just trying to twist you around."

Stevie blinks. Sometimes when Xabi attempts an idiom you have to sort of go back through the thesaurus until you hit on what he might have been going for. "Winding us up, you mean," he says, after a moment.

"Is what I said," Xabi says. "Winding you up."

"Yeah, that's not what you said," Stevie says.

"I cannot believe," Xabi says, "I am stuck with you to be my English tutor. This is very ironic."

"Go on, lad, mock the accent again," Stevie says. "Never gets old, that."

Now go read the rest.

It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere