title: '¿Quien Me Iba A Decir?'
by: omgorgasm
pairing: Steven Gerrard, Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso, Fernando Torres
rating: R for language
disclaimer: fake, all of it (thank god)
author's note: so... there is a story behind this fic. i was taking a course over the summer for creative writing and one of the prompts was to write about an article in real life... and I chose to do a fic based on an article about stevie saying he was happy fernando was coming to liverpool. and i'm sort of multitasking right now, so... (i'm watching qaf season three as i update)

'¿Quien Me Iba A Decir?'

Steven Gerrard is happy about the achievement of bagging Torres for Liverpool. Really, he is. Hell, if Alonso can be ‘excited’ he can be damn happy.

Christ, he thinks, nursing a beer (Carling, of course, just in case he is being caught on camera), this new season is going to be fucking nuts.

‘Papa?’

Shit. It’s Lexy again, probably wanting to know if we can -

‘- go see Uncle Jamie? Please, Papa?’

‘No, Lexy,’ Steven answers, his voice harsh (harsher than he originally intends to be with her, after all, she is only a small girl, and his daughter).

She bites her lip and her eyes well up with tears, but she remains strong in front of her Papa and turns to walk out of the room. Steven watches her go, watches how her shoulders are squared against the shaking of her silent crying, watches how her chin is angled up, how her face is carefully masked. She’s a strong one, he thinks.

‘Just like her father,’ Alex says from behind him. Steven swerves around in his chair to look at her, beer in hand. She arches a brow when she sees the bottle. ‘Beer, Stevie? It’s hardly eleven o’clock in the morning!’

Shit. Here she goes, barging into my business again.

‘It’s nothing, Alex,’ Steven answers, his voice barely masked annoyance.

‘Nothing that’s got you half-drunk in the morning.’ She gives him a pointed look, then follows after Lexy. ‘Maybe it will be good if you got out of the house, Stevie,’ she tosses over her shoulder. ‘Take the girls for a spin.’

An hour later, Steven is sitting by the phone. He is waiting. He is also drunk. Alex and the girls left half an hour ago to go to the park and play. And he is waiting.

‘Ohhh, come on, Shhhha-vi,’ he coos to the phone, ‘gimme a c-a-l-l!’

Another hour passes, and Steven is laying next to the phone. His eyes are red and he is sober as a straight stick.

‘Come on, Xabi,’ he is whispering, ‘you must’ve seen the article. Come on. Tell me you get as jealous as I do.’


--



‘It says, Gerrard Pleased With Torres Gain. Yes, yes, I am reading English correctly. Do not doubt my skills, Nando.’

Silence.

‘Yes! I am sure you will be heartily welcomed once you arrive. This article proves it!’

Silence.
Silence.



fin-

..comment, review, friend?

edit; the title of the fic is from the song by David Bisbal - ¿Quien Me Iba A Decir? (click the link to download the song)