the heist
I finished exams yesterday! *throws confetti* And now - three and half months of holidays!!
So to celebrate, I thought I'd post the biggest piece of crack I've ever written. It actually has paragraphs. :D
Title: The Heist
Characters: Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger / Steve Finnan, Fernando Torres, Pepe Reina, Álvaro Arbeloa, Javier Mascherano, Jamie Carragher, Rafa Benítez.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: You'd have to be smoking an intense amount of crack to think that this is real.
Summary: The Liverpool boys must resort to all kinds of extremes in order to keep their innate slashiness a secret from their shrewd and calculating boss. Sometimes, this involves flawed master plans, failed diversions, and badly executed explosives in one disaster of a heist. Sometimes.
Notes: It's not AU, despite what the above may suggest. They're still the same footballers - just slightly more cracktastic. I started writing this when Finns was still at the club, so let's just pretend he is still a Liverpudlian, yes? Oh, and the same goes for Andriy Voronin, who's mentioned ever so fleetingly.
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.
It began, typically, with one of Álvaro's terrible ideas.
"You can't just decide that you're in love with Jamie Carragher," Finns explained patiently. "He's really not into that."
Álvaro sighed. "I can't help it," he whined. "He's just so rugged and responsible and r-"
"Right behind you?" Daniel interjected, his eyes wide.
Álvaro spun around to see Carra's frowning face staring him down.
"What are you talking about?" the Scouser snapped. "This had better not be about your bloody crush on Sami again - I warned you, he won't stand for it! I told you to keep to yourself."
Álvaro smiled weakly. "Oh, I am keeping to myself. . . But sometimes, you know, Jamie," he simpered as he began drawing circles absent-mindedly on Carra's shoulder with his forefinger. "Sometimes, it does get very lonely when you keep to yourself. . ."
"Alright, Álvaro?" Steven suddenly stepped in, forcing a bright grin and wrenching Álvaro's hand off Carra's shoulder. "The gaffer wants to see you, come with me."
And leaving a stunned Carra behind with Daniel and Finns, who sighed resignedly as they proceeded to explain that Álvaro had merely had a bad night's sleep and was thus feeling a little needier than usual, Steven marched Álvaro down the Melwood corridor and towards Rafa's office.
* * * * *
"You're unbelievable, you are," Steven muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're playing a dangerous game there, mate, messing with Carra like that."
Álvaro merely sighed happily at the mention of Carra's name as he pulled out a box from his pocket. "Look at this," he said excitedly, opening the box and showing Steven a glittering watch inside. "It's his Christmas present!"
Steven hesitantly pulled out the watch and raised his eyebrows when he saw the words 'To Jamie, love Álvaro' engraved on the inside.
"Who the fuck calls him Jamie?" Steven asked incredulously.
"I do!" Álvaro said defiantly. "It's so much nicer than Carra - so much sweeter, and sexier. . . Jamie."
Steven rolled his eyes as they turned the corner just outside Rafa's office, but his face quickly broke into a smile as he bumped into Xabi, dressed sharply in a suit.
"Oh, you look nice," Steven said, immediately becoming a little flustered. "Is that the tie I picked out for you?"
Xabi blushed. "Yeah, it is."
"See, I told you blue looks good on you," Steven smiled.
Álvaro grinned across at the two midfielders, clutching his hands together in joy. "Aw, you guys are so High School Musical!"
Steven stared as Xabi raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think that was supposed to be a compliment," he said to Steven.
Steven shook his head disbelievingly. "See you later, Álvaro," he said before walking away with Xabi, Álvaro trying to suppress squeals of delight as he watched the two of them tentatively entwine their fingers together as they walked side by side.
* * * * *
Rafa was in his usual brisk and businesslike mood. "I need your advice, Álvaro," he said simply.
Álvaro was slightly surprised - the last time Rafa had asked him for advice was after Álvaro had gotten a little too drunk at Pepe's birthday party, and Rafa had politely asked him the next day at training, "Which do you think I should do, Álvaro? Fine you, ban you for the next game, or tell your mother?" At which point Álvaro had almost cried in fear, and hysterically phoned his mother each day for the next week to ensure that Rafa hadn't told her anything.
"What for?" he asked hesitantly as Rafa got up from his chair.
Rafa pulled out a box similar to the one in Álvaro's hands from the safe behind his desk, opening it to reveal a gorgeous ladies watch.
"I bought this for my wife, for Christmas. I was just after your opinion - do you think she'll like it?"
This time, Álvaro did actually squeal in delight, dropping Carra's watch onto the desk and leaning over to grab the box out of Rafa's hands.
"Oh, it's divine," Álvaro purred, holding it up to the light. "It is so fabulous, it must have cost you a fortune! Seriously, if she doesn't like it, I'd honestly consider getting her looked at by a doctor."
"Yes, thank you, Álvaro," Rafa said tersely. "So I should definitely give it to her?"
"Oh, yes," Álvaro nodded firmly, beaming up at his boss, completely flattered to have been asked his opinion on what he felt was a decidedly important matter.
"Excellent," Rafa said, clapping his hands together. "Okay, you can leave now," he said pointedly.
"Oh, uh, right," Álvaro stammered, quickly getting up and grabbing his watch off the desk. "I'm just glad I could help!" And as he left the office, he couldn't help grinning to himself, feeling particularly special about having been picked as something of a fashion expert in the eyes of his superior.
* * * * *
"I just really don't think she should be playing with Barbies anymore," Steven said solemnly to the other players lounging on the sofas in the Melwood games room. "I mean, Alex is a grown woman - surely she should let the girls have them instead?"
As Pepe and Xabi nodded wearily, Álvaro froze. Having opened the box in his hands for the first time since leaving Rafa's office, he was now sitting in bolt upright in his chair with a look of complete horror on his face.
"What?" Xabi asked exhaustedly. "Did you forget to engrave a love-heart onto it, or something?"
Álvaro merely swallowed desperately as he handed the watch over.
Xabi stared. "This is a girl's watch, Álvaro."
"Don't you think I know that?" Álvaro hissed, panicked.
Pepe frowned, looking from Álvaro to Xabi in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Steven rolled his eyes as Álvaro launched into a hurried explanation. "I bought a watch for Carra and Rafa bought one for his wife, but I accidentally left mine in his office and took his instead!"
Pepe scratched his chin. "So?"
"So," Steven said, "Álvaro decided it'd be nice to engrave, 'To Jamie, love Álvaro' onto it. Cos he's a daft twat," he added, glaring at Álvaro.
"Who the fuck calls him Jamie?" Pepe asked.
"I do!" Álvaro snapped.
Xabi sighed. "This is not good. This is not good at all. If Rafa finds it, with that stupid inscription, our entire secret will be blown."
"What secret?" Pepe asked. "Why are you guys acting like this is World War Three?"
"Rafa can't possibly know that some of us are - well - fucking each other. It would mean the end of our careers. And," Xabi added pointedly, "he might even call our mothers."
"Oh," Pepe said, finally comprehending the gravity of the situation and nodding fervently. "I see. Well, then, we have to find some way of getting the watch back!"
"But how?" Steven moaned. "He doesn't let anyone into his office. We can't just walk in and get it back!"
"And, he put the watch into a safe," Álvaro added despairingly.
"Fuck," Pepe muttered, before pausing in thought. "Wait - why do I care? I'm not screwing my teammates."
"Oh, I don't know," Steven snapped. "Maybe because your team wouldn't be any good if half of us were sacked?"
"Oh, right," Pepe nodded reluctantly. "So - we have to break in?"
"Looks like it," Xabi nodded, heaving a resigned sigh.
"Hey guys," Fernando said brightly as he entered the room, collapsing onto one of the sofas. "What you are talking about?"
"Oh, stuff," Pepe said casually. "Transfer rumours. Ideas for Christmas party costumes. How to break into Rafa's office to retrieve the watch that Álvaro bought for Carra and put the watch that Rafa bought for his wife back in its place. You know, the usual."
* * * * *
Steven, being the organised fellow that he believed himself to be, had taken the time to draw up all sorts of plans with which the boys would hopefully be able to break into Rafa's office. One depressing afternoon, after a long day of training, he assembled the Spaniards, Daniel and Finns in a storeroom, and laid out his intricate drawings.
Pepe sniggered. "Stick figures?"
Steven glared across at the goalkeeper. "Well, nobody else was taking the initiative!"
"You should have gotten Dan to draw them," Finns said wisely. "He's very good."
Daniel blushed and smiled bashfully at Finns, as Pepe rolled his eyes in disgust. "Keep in your pants, guys, please," he said sharply, nodding pointedly towards the pitiful drawings laid out in front of them.
As Daniel huffed slightly, Steven began to explain his ideas. Pointing to various parts of the maps he'd drawn, he explained that there was an air-conditioning vent through which somebody could crawl and get into the office. From there, they would retrieve the spare key that Rafa surely kept somewhere amongst his things. With the key, Álvaro would simply be able to walk in when the boss was away, somehow open the safe (Steven hadn't figured this part out yet), swap the watches, put the stolen key back, and resume life as an undercover manslut.
"I can't believe you thought all that up yourself," Finns said in awe, once Steven had finished. "I honestly didn't think you were capable of it."
"I thought it up," Xabi interrupted haughtily. "Steven stole my ideas."
"Hey, that's not true!" Steven said indignantly. "I came up with the watch-swapping part."
"But that is the most obvious part, no?" Fernando interjected.
"Shut up, you," Steven mumbled, rolling up his paper and clutching it to his chest defensively. "Leave my plans alone, they're bloody awesome."
"Yeah, awesomely bad," Álvaro quipped.
"Hey, if you hadn't decided to fall in love with Carra in the first place -"
"I couldn't help it!" Álvaro wailed. "It's his sexy Scouse accent."
"I have a Scouse accent."
"Ew, Stevie," Álvaro said, wrinkling his nose. "No offence, but I could never love a man with no forehead."
* * * * *
Steven, having adopted Xabi's plans with enthusiasm but no real insight, had perhaps not thought everything through as thoroughly as Xabi would have liked, being the considerably less intelligent half of their relationship. If their idea was to work, Xabi had to take greater initiative.
He decided that none of the boys whom Steven had assembled were quite small enough to fit into the air-conditioning duct that led to Rafa's office. This particular job required someone tiny and limber - and, more importantly, someone who wouldn't ask too many questions. Xabi therefore took it upon himself to recruit a new member to their disfunctional crew.
So, waiting for Javier Mascherano, who had agreed most enthusiastically to help them out, Xabi stood outside the Melwood dressing rooms with Álvaro and a slightly confused Fernando.
"I don't understand why we're being so shifty - hiding in storerooms and all that," Fernando said.
Álvaro sighed. "Nobody goes into Rafa's office unless he's there. You know how Pako Ayesteran's gone?"
"Well, I did notice that our assistant manager had left, yes," Fernando said, rolling his eyes.
"The last thing he ever did at this club was go into that office uninvited," Álvaro said ominously. "Next thing, he was on a plane to Italy."
"He went to Portugal, actually," Xabi interrupted.
"Okay, whatever," Álvaro said, waving a dismissive hand. "But you get my point?" he asked Fernando.
"Yes, I get it. Entering office is a no-no."
Álvaro shook his head. "A big no-no," he corrected wisely.
Javier stepped out of the changing rooms dressed in the tight, black Spandex gym outfit that Pepe had borrowed from his wife Yolanda (and would now never give back to her). The look of excited delight on Javier's face had now been replaced by slight hesitation, as he looked down at his rather exposed body.
Álvaro gawked at Javier's figure, paying particular attention to his lower half. Gazing wide-eyed up at Fernando, he dramatically mouthed the words "Oh my God" and tried to contain his excitement as Fernando turned away, embarrassed.
"Why me?" Javier asked, pulling at the fabric clinging to his skin. "Why not Yossi, or Jermaine? They're small too."
Xabi rolled his eyes. "Benayoun's too much of a kiss-ass to do anything to his beloved Benítez," he explained. "And Pennant has about as much subtlety as a beached whale on crack."
* * * * *
There was, evidently, little point in breaking into Rafa's office if the boys were unable to penetrate the safe itself. It was therefore necessary to concoct a foolproof way of getting past that little metal door. Having abandoned attempts at cracking the four-digit code after hours of impatiently watching Xabi try and fail to come up with mathematical algorithms to predict it, they decided on something a little more raw.
At least, Daniel did.
"You came up with an explosive?" Pepe asked him incredulously.
"Yes," Daniel replied defiantly. "Well - you know how I like to cook -"
"What, you plan on popping a bag of flour in Rafa's face?" Pepe sniggered.
"No! Come on, be serious here for a second. All it takes is a little baking soda and vinegar - well, a lot of it, really. And voilà - explosion!"
"And you know this - how?" Finns asked, looking slightly worried.
Daniel blushed. "One of my cakes went wrong one time. In, like, July."
"Oh," Álvaro said knowingly. "That's why you shaved your head."
* * * * *
Unfortunately for our masterminds, Carra was more astute than they had originally given him credit for. Every time several of them would huddle together in a corner, discussing the plans, Carra would glance over suspiciously. He noticeably crept a little closer, trying to hear their hushed whispers. Occasionally, he would even march over and tell them, in no uncertain terms, that gossiping was strictly against team code.
Steven thus judged it necessary to divert his vice-captain - to somehow lead him away from the group so that they could carry out their plans in peace. This was how he and Daniel found themselves peering behind a corner as they watched a beaming Javier Mascherano attempting to convince Carra that he'd rather spend his afternoon outdoors than indoors.
Daniel stared, his mouth slightly open as Javier flashed a rather leering smile at Carra. "I never realised how terrifying Masch can be," Daniel whispered in horror.
Steven watched as Carra stared incredulously down at the diminutive Argentine, before launching into what looked like a rather furious lecture, Javier shrinking slowly against the wall. Steven closed his eyes in frustration. "Yeah, well, he's nowhere near as terrifying as Carra."
After Carra had given up screaming at the petrified midfielder and headed towards the gym, Javier slowly walked back to Steven and Daniel, looking down at his shoes rather shamefully.
"I say that I want him to help me go and buy flowers for my wife," he explained as Daniel and Steven listened in despair. "But I say by accident that they are for his wife."
Gritting his teeth, Steven inhaled sharply as Daniel rolled his eyes impatiently. "Ah well," Steven said tersely, patting Javier awkwardly on the back. "You tried."
* * * * *
While the others tried to keep Carra and Rafa well away from the storeroom, Álvaro, Finns and Xabi were all crowded around Daniel one morning as the Dane decided to test out his explosive in an old bucket.
The boys held their breath as Daniel carefully measured out the right amount of vinegar, ready to pour it onto the strange soap-like block he'd made the night before.
"Are you ready, guys?" Daniel asked nervously.
"We've been ready for half an hour," Pepe said wearily.
"Okay, okay." Then, as the others watched in hesitation, Daniel poured the vinegar onto the block inside the bucket in one swift movement.
It had the effect of a bath fizzer. After bubbling up for a few seconds, it hissed tamely and formed an unthreatening glob at the bottom of the bucket. The boys watched the fizzing mess blankly.
"Epic fail, Danny," Álvaro said, unimpressed, as Daniel's face fell.
"Well, it is baking soda," Pepe shrugged, standing up and stretching wearily as he looked at his watch.
Daniel pouted as Finns put his arms around the defender and consoled him with a kiss. "Ignore them, Dan," he cooed. "I thought it was a really good bomb - potentially, anyway." Daniel smiled sadly as he kissed Finns back, wrapping an arm around the Irishman's neck.
"Oh, come on!" Pepe said in disgust. "In your pants!"
* * * * *
It took Daniel a while to forgive Álvaro for his less-than-enthusiastic response to his attempt at an explosive. Sitting in the Melwood cafeteria area, Daniel was shooting Álvaro glares at every word the Spaniard said, while Finns, sandwiched between them, desperately tried to lighten the mood.
"Xabi said he had an idea on how to get into the safe," Finns said tentatively over a cup of coffee. "That's good news, isn't it?"
"If it's another explosion, count me out," Álvaro said firmly. "That vinegar made my eyes tingle."
Daniel's face darkened as he pointedly shifted in his seat and folded his arms. Finns cringed - as much as he loved the Dane, he had to admit that he was overly sensitive at times.
"Álvaro," Finns hissed, turning away from Daniel. "Can you please try to be a little more tactful? You're just being stupid, it's obvious that Dan's upset!"
Daniel snorted. "Calling Álvaro stupid is an insult to stupid people," he muttered.
Finns rolled his eyes as Álvaro huffed next to him, but turned around when he felt the Spaniard's body suddenly tense up. Álvaro pointed towards the door, where Carra seemed to be making his way towards the storeroom, in which the remnants of Daniel's glob of an explosive were still sitting.
"Oh shit," Finns muttered to himself. "What the fuck is he going there for?"
Álvaro bit his lip, glancing furtively at Daniel, who was the closest to Carra.
"Danny - behind you - Carra - do something - storeroom!" Álvaro stammered, his eyes wide.
Daniel blinked, his arms still folded stubbornly. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that in English? I don't speak imbecile."
Álvaro wrung his hands frantically. "Carra - about to go there - have to stop him - storeroom - the plan - shit!"
Daniel rolled his eyes. "You know what? Just keep talking, Álvaro - you'll surely say something coherent eventually."
Finns decided to take action. Bounding up from his seat, he hurriedly made his way over to Carra and blocked his path.
"What are you doing?" he panted, standing in front of the door.
Carra frowned. "What are you doing, more like. Move!"
"Why?" Finns asked, glancing over at Daniel and Álvaro, who were both raising their eyebrows worriedly.
"Because I, erm, I've got to -" Carra stammered. "I've got to go somewhere."
Finns narrowed his eyes as Carra's cheeks reddened slightly. "Oh yeah? Where?"
"None of your business!"
Finns glanced over to the others again, desperate for some help. Álvaro merely shrugged helplessly, while Daniel threw his head into his hands in disgust. Somewhat defeated, Finns reluctantly moved aside to allow Carra through.
His foot, however, lingered a little longer in front of the door - Carra tripped over it and was sent flying.
"Fuck!" the Scouser yelped as he lay on the ground, clutching his foot. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Finns blushed. "Oh, oops," he muttered with a sheepish smile. "Clumsy me."
"Fuckin' hell, Finns," Carra snapped as he got up gingerly. "Now I'm going to have to go to the physio, well done!"
"The physio?" Finns asked with interest. "Well, that's through the other door, isn't it?"
Carra merely glared back as he turned around and limped off in the opposite direction. Finns, heaving a sigh of relief, chose to ignore Daniel's look of reprehension as he sat down.
Álvaro rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself. "This is getting way too stressful, guys. I don't even like him that much any more," he said wearily. "But that Škrtel, on the other hand. . ."
Finns stared in disbelief. "Oh, no. Don't you even think about getting him a watch now."
"Oh, of course not," Álvaro said hastily. ". . . A necklace is so much more his style."
* * * * *
Xabi soon decided that Finns was easily the most intelligent of the team - apart from himself, of course - and, witnessing a grumbling Carra trudging out of the physio's office, decided that the Irishman would be the best person to helping him with the most complex part of the plan.
Having invited Finns over for a late-night coffee, Xabi watched his clock ticking closer to midnight as the two of them sat grumpily in his living room. Xabi's idea had been to launch into an inspiring brainstorm session, during which their two astute minds would surely come up with a flawless strategy or two. But, he reflected as he got up to make another cup of coffee, it turned out that strokes of inspiration couldn't be planned.
"I think we should call it a night," Finns said sleepily as Xabi forced another cup into his hands. "We haven't come up with anything feasible."
"You haven't," Xabi corrected. "I'm the only one who's been trying here."
Finns closed his eyes in exhaustion. "I did think of the plan to get Javier to leave his camera-phone in the office, like surveillance, so that we can watch the safe just in case Rafa opens it and hopefully get a shot of the code."
"Steve," Xabi said patiently. "That's an idiotic idea, and you know it. And, look, I hate to be mean, but can we really trust Javier to do that properly? He's not the brightest crayon in the box."
"He can't help it," Finns said, trying to be fair.
"What, did his parents drop him on his head when he was a baby?"
"Xabi!"
"What? I just don't think people are born that stupid."
"What about your boyfriend?" Finns asked incredulously.
"Stevie's not stupid, he's just a little. . . well. . ."
"Stupid."
"Look - if you want to go through with this lame idea, you do it. I'm out. There is no way I'm even going to attempt to explain something that complicated to Javier."
"Oh, come on!" Finns cried out in disbelief. "He barely understands English, it makes no sense for me to do it!"
Xabi paused. Finns had a point.
"We'll get Pepe to do it."
* * * * *
"And precisely why do I have to deal with the monkey?"
Xabi rolled his eyes at the argumentative tone of Pepe's voice. "Because I'm be setting up the computer tonight, Finns isn't Latino enough, and the rest - well - the rest are idiots."
"Well, that's true," Pepe conceded. "But what about Fernando?"
"Would you trust Javier and Fernando to get this done? They'd end up getting bored and singing Disney songs to each other."
"Seriously?"
Xabi sighed. "Unfortunately - I've seen it happen."
Pepe shuddered at the memory of Fernando's tone-deafness, which he'd been all too unlucky to witness after Spain had won the Euro's, when Fernando had injested a little too much alcohol and gotten a little too excited when Álvaro had pulled out his Shakira CD.
Not wishing such pain upon anyone's ears, Pepe found himself grudgingly skulking around the Melwood carpark in the middle of the night, Javier by his side, checking that the coast was clear.
"I think I saw something move!" Javier whispered hysterically, grabbing Pepe's sleeve.
Pepe rolled his eyes as he looked in the direction that the Argentine had turned his head. "It's your reflection, Javier," he said impatiently.
After Javier had finally judged the area to be completely empty - Pepe having decided about ten minutes earlier that it was, but being frantically held back by the panicky midfielder who, for several minutes, was convinced that a nearby bin was actually Rafa in disguise - the two of them made their way inside and found the end of the air-conditioning duct that Xabi had pointed out to them earlier.
"It's awfully small," Javier said nervously.
"Yeah, well, so are you," Pepe said shortly. "Get in!"
Javier tentatively pulled off his tracksuit to reveal the Spandex get-up which Pepe had pulled out of his wife's wardrobe. He shuddered a little as he saw the outfit now worn by a short, rather hairy Argentine. He would need copious amounts of sex with Yolanda to erase this particular image from his mind.
"Do you really think Rafa will realise that the watch is different?" Javier asked, rapidly getting cold feet.
"Well, firstly," Pepe said, pretending to think very hard, "it's a man's watch. But if that somehow escapes his attention, there is a chance he may just notice Álvaro's declaration of love for Carra engraved onto it."
"Oh. Yeah, that could be a problem," Javier acknowledged.
"You think?!"
"Oh, I wish I'd never agreed to do this," Javier whined as he hoisted himself up into the duct. "What is it they say? . . . Bliss is ignorance!"
"Yeah, well, then you must be the happiest person alive," Pepe mumbled.
As Pepe waited in the corridor, Javier crawled through the duct with little shuffling noises and grunts that Pepe tried desperately to ignore - as if he needed noises to go with the image of Javier ingrained in his head.
About ten minutes later, he got a call from Javier. This couldn't be good.
"What's wrong?" Pepe asked nervously.
"I think I'm in the office."
". . . Well, that's good, isn't it?"
"Uhm . . ."
Pepe heard a thud. "Javier? Javier?"
"Yeah, I'm here, I'm okay."
"I wasn't worried about you, I worried about your phone," Pepe said impatiently.
"I don't think I can do this," Javier whimpered. "It's completely dark, I can't see a thing."
". . . It's called a light switch."
* * * * *
"Airm, so I'm jus' fearin' de wairst, y'know, like. An' I think youse should make sure nuttin's, airm, gettin' inteh the gaffeh's stuff, he'd be dead stroppy. Like."
Daniel and Xabi merely stared in horror at Finns as the Irishman spoke into his phone, trying to impersonate one of the senior security guards as he worked to convince Rafa's wife that he'd seen somebody breaking into his office.
"Yeh don' wanna leave it 'til temorra, dale prolly get away by den, all dese derty stopouts. . . Oh, yis, I wuz gawpin' at 'im wid eyes like 'atpegs, I wuz. And I said, warra yer like? I'm norracceptindat, I'm not. Yer wha'? . . . Oh, airm, five minutes ago, la. I mean, airm, la-ette. . . Miss? Missus? Ta. . . Like."
Finns hung up the phone with a relieved sigh.
"That was the worst Scouse accent I've ever heard," Xabi said blankly.
"I was trying to sound like Carra," Finns said defensively.
"Exactly."
Daniel clapped his hands. "Focus, guys. Focus. So, we've made sure that Rafa's going to open the safe to make sure nothing's been 'stolen'. But has Masch done his job right? What if we can't actually see the safe from where he put his phone?"
Finns shook his head. "Pepe told me that Javier put the phone inside Rafa's pen-stand, with the camera facing the safe so that, no matter where Rafa stands, when he punches in the code, the camera will pick it up. He won't even notice that the phone's there, because Javier hid it so well. And he found the spare office key in the desk drawer, he's already given it to Álvaro."
"Wow," Xabi said, somehow feeling impressed and bemused at the same time. "I guess Javier's done his thinking for the year."
Daniel nodded, surprised. "Now we just have to wait for Álvaro to do something smart."
Finns shook his head in disbelief. "You really have to get over that, you know. I don't think he meant anything by it."
Daniel pouted stubbornly. "He never does mean anything. He just talks, without thinking. Like a robot. But a brainless one."
Xabi frowned. "Aren't all robots brainless? You know, being machines and all."
"Are all Spaniards bitches?" Daniel snapped. "You know, being, uh, bitchy, and all." His stammerings trailed away as he looked down awkwardly.
Xabi raised his eyebrows. "Are you done being an incoherent, insecure idiot?"
Daniel looked down as Finns huffed in annoyance at yet another person making fun of his boyfriend.
"Good," Xabi continued with satisfaction. "I've already got a fragile, clumsy, inarticulate baby boy at home - I don't need another one here."
"Oh, don't be so harsh on him," Finns smirked. "I'm sure Stevie's not that bad."
* * * * *
Labelled the 'nerd' of the group by Pepe, Fernando was the only person well-equipped enough with a computer to carry out the next stage in their strategy. The only problem, as Steven soon discovered, was Fernando's inherent lack of ability to comprehend, well, anything.
"Can you link up your computer to Masch's phone?" Steven asked, glancing at his watch.
"Link?" Fernando frowned. "How I can do that? His phone is there, my computer is here."
Steven rolled his eyes. He knew he'd had good reason to assign Xabi to this task - and better reason to be furious that he hadn't turned up. "Masch has left his phone on the video-camera function," he explained. "Can you connect your computer to it, so that we can see into Rafa's office?"
"We can't see into Rafa's office from here. Is too far."
Steven groaned. "I thought Xabi went through all of this with you?"
"He went where?"
"Look, you have to use your computer to dial Masch's phone, and then we'll be able to see the safe and figure out what the code is," Steven explained as patiently as possible. "Hurry up, Rafa's on his way there now!"
"On his way where? He is going with Xabi?"
"Xabi's not going anywhere!"
"Then why he is not here?"
"Because we - we had a fight, if you really must know. He hasn't spoken to me since I said his plans were mine."
"You stealed his plants?"
"No, not his -"
"Yes, they are his! And you steal them? But - why? Is so strange!"
"It's not strange, because I didn't steal them!"
"Oh. . . You borrow them, no? You cannot grow your own plants? You are infertile?"
"Oi! Watch who you're calling infertile!"
"I am watching you."
"Yes, I can see that."
"Yes, I know you can see me. I can see you too."
"I'm not bloody infertile. I've got two kids, in case you haven't noticed."
"How I cannot notice? I already say I am watching you - I am not blind, Stevie."
"No, you're just fuckin' stupid."
"No, I am not stupid when I fuck. I am very creative. You have heard of Kama Sutra?"
Steven fast gave up on conversing with the Spaniard, noticing that time was running out, and that the boss would surely be approaching Melwood by now. Grabbing the computer mouse from Fernando's hand and jostling him out of his seat, Steven sat down and attempted to make the connection himself. After trying to ignore the picture of a rather disturbingly oily Sergio Ramos on Fernando's desktop wallpaper, and occasionally interrupted by Fernando telling him that Firefox was not, in fact, a computer game about animals, and that 'Babel Fish' had nothing to do with the young Dutch striker, Steven finally got the video function working.
As the two of them watched the dark room through the lens of Javier's camera phone, the lights in the office finally turned on and Rafa bustled in.
"Is he - are they yellow flannel pyjamas he's wearing?" Steven asked in disbelief.
"Oh, I have same ones," Fernando said, nodding. "They are very warm. They have ducks on them."
Holding his breath, Steven watched attentively as Fernando silently counted the ducks on Rafa's pyjamas. Javier's placement of the phone was such that they were able to see Rafa punch in the code with no problem at all.
"9. 6. 9. 2," Steven muttered, writing it down on a nearby scrap of paper. Then, smiling, he looked up at Fernando. "Wow, I guess he really does love the club, then."
Fernando merely raised his eyebrows, still transfixed by the yellow on the computer monitor.
Steven rolled his eyes impatiently. "9-6-9-2. Y-N-W-A."
Fernando dragged his eyes away from the screen when Rafa turned the lights out, frowning slightly in confusion. "What is Yinwah?"
* * * * *
There was a good reason why Álvaro decided to be a spoil-sport and turn up to the Christmas party in an inconspicuous, all-black ensemble. (He had tried to spruce up the look with a gold tinsel necklace of sorts, but Fernando had quite seriously told him that it clashed with his skin tone.) He arrived with Jermaine Pennant, dressed as a giant squirrel, who assured the awaiting press that Álvaro was "probably a bandit, or somethin' stupid like tha'," and, incidentally, wasn't far off the mark.
Álvaro did feel rather disappointed that he couldn't join in on the fun of dressing up, noting with particular delight Javier's Spiderman costume (he still enjoyed seeing the Argentine in skin-tight Spandex - although the others, who were looking away rather pointedly, didn't seem to agree), Lucas Leiva effortlessly pulling off a Marilyn Monroe impersonation, and Jamie Carragher in the costume he was born to wear - the Grinch who stole Christmas. He tried to congratulate Andriy Voronin on his excellent gnome costume, but had to hurry away in embarrassment when Fabio Aurelio told him in a whisper that Andriy hadn't dressed up at all, and he was similarly surprised when he learnt that Martin Škrtel's prison inmate look wasn't a costume either.
Indeed, Álvaro wished he could have stuck around and enjoyed the party with the rest of the boys. But, with every intention of sliding through the mass of vibrant costumes, Álvaro tried to avoid eye contact with everyone and escape through the back door - tonight was the night that he was finally going to swap those darn watches.
But, as he craned his neck assessing Fernando's costume with a puzzled frown, he bumped into Pepe, dressed as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and Daniel, looking rather pale and skinny in a massively oversized rapper's outfit - complete with a grill on his teeth.
"Oh, hey," Álvaro said. "Have you got any idea why Fernando looks like a girl?"
Daniel stared back, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, because he's Fernando? And part of being Fernando means looking like a girl at all times?"
Pepe rolled his eyes as the bickering and elaborately costumed Steven and Xabi hurriedly walked past, Xabi apparently unhappy with the fact that he was the long-haired, fake-breasted, lipsticked Juliet to Steven's rather more flattering Romeo.
"Fernando is Legolas," Pepe explained. "You know, from Lord Of The Rings."
Álvaro cringed. "He really felt the need to dress up as that guy? As if having that awful tattoo wasn't bad enough -"
But his words were cut short as Rafa Benítez suddenly appeared in front of him, in a Santa costume which looked alarmingly appropriate on him.
"Álvaro," Rafa said with a dangerous smile. "I was meaning to talk to you about my watch, there might be something a little wrong with it. . . Meet me by the bar in a few minutes?"
Álvaro froze. "Uh, okay," he mumbled. "Sure."
"Great." Rafa left the three of them standing by the door in horror, Daniel slightly distracted by the arrival of Sami Hyypiä inexplicably dressed up as a giant peacock.
Pepe gazed at Rafa's retreating back, wide-eyed. "Well," he said, slightly stunned. "This looks potentially disastrous."
Álvaro snorted. "Not as disastrous as an explosive made out of baking soda."
"You know what?" Daniel interrupted, fuming, his words slightly muffled through his grill. "Fuck the fuck off. When you decide to grow a brain, you can come back. I'll throw you a party."
Álvaro rolled his eyes. "You have problems. A superiority complex, otherwise known as a badly-disguised inferiority complex. There are pills for that," he added smugly. "Homie."
"Will you stop sniping at each other and figure out what you're going to say?" Pepe demanded. "If Rafa's noticed something, we're screwed!"
"Correction, Álvaro is screwed," Daniel said smugly. "Rafa has no idea we were involved in any of this."
Pepe paused. "True." Shoving Álvaro towards the bar, his nerves eased. "Well, go on then," he said with a mischievous smile.
Álvaro glared back at Pepe. "I am never speaking to you again."
Daniel smiled. "You know what?" he prodded Pepe as Álvaro trudged away. "I think that's a very good thing."
* * * * *
"Well, what did he want?" Pepe hissed as he and Álvaro slid out the back door of the restaurant and into the goalkeeper's awaiting car.
Álvaro waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't worry - he just thought the watch needed more diamonds. Which, of course, I wholeheartedly agree with. I told him, you can never have too much bling." Álvaro paused as Pepe's car slunk through streets lined with Christmas lights. "I don't think he knows what 'bling' means, but he got the general point."
Relieved, Pepe turned on the radio and hit the gas as they veered ever closer to Melwood.
"Oh, Enrique Iglesias!" Álvaro yelped in delight. "I love this song!"
Pepe rolled his eyes. "Your taste is worse than Xabi's, and he listens to George Michael."
"Speaking of Xabi," Álvaro said seriously, "I've noticed that he's becoming really into Stevie."
"Well, they are, you know - together."
"Oh really?" Álvaro rolled his eyes. "I had no idea."
"Are you being sarcastic with me?" Pepe asked in disbelief. "I didn't even know you knew what sarcasm was."
"Pepe," Álvaro said patronisingly. "What you don't know could fill Anfield. And then some."
Pepe clenched his jaw as he hit the brake suddenly. "I don't have to drive you to Melwood, you know," he said firmly. "I could just turn back around and leave your goddamn watch there."
"Keep your hair on," Álvaro said hastily. "Well, your metaphorical hair, anyway. But, come on - haven't you noticed that Xabi's been really, really preoccupied by Stevie lately? To the point of obsession?"
"I don't think you're one to talk about obsession," Pepe muttered.
"All he cares about is Stevie. As it is, he had no life before Stevie. Now it's even worse. Like he has a negative life."
". . . You know what's sad, Álvaro? You think so much, but so little comes of it," Pepe said, shaking his head. "Oh look - a pink car!"
"Where?" Álvaro squealed, twisting in his seat.
"Made you look!"
Álvaro sighed. "You are such an eight-year-old boy, sometimes, Pepe."
"And you're such an eight-year-old girl."
"Aw, thanks!" Álvaro blushed.
The two Spaniards soon arrived at Melwood, and pulling into the carpark, Pepe decided to call Daniel to make sure nobody had noticed their absence from the party, while Álvaro quickly sneaked his way to Rafa's office.
Pepe rubbed his eyes wearily as Daniel snapped at him agitatedly through the phone.
"Rafa's clinging to me," Daniel whined. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get the smell of his cologne out of my hair."
"What does he want?" Pepe asked exhaustedly. "I knew you were one of his favourites, but I didn't think it would escalate to stalking."
"It's not what he wants, it's what he knows," Daniel hissed.
Pepe froze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, he found the remains of my baking soda bomb in the storeroom!"
Pepe cringed. "And what did you say?"
"I told him that - that . . ." Daniel's voice trailed away.
"Oh dear God, what?" Pepe asked, filled with dread.
"I told him that I had some domestic problems. But, uh - this made him - uh -"
"What?"
"Well, he seemed to think that they were my, uh - bodily fluids."
Pepe stared ahead blankly. ". . . Awkward."
* * * * *
After hurtling down the corridors, Álvaro finally reached Rafa's office. Steadying his breath, he pulled the key out of his pocket and slid it into the keyhole. Breathing a sigh of relief when he heard the lock click open, he pushed the door with a triumphant smile and reached for the light switch.
The only problem being that the light was already on. And someone was already inside.
"Jamie?" Álvaro gaped in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Turning around abruptly, his panicked look somehow making his Grinch make-up even funnier, Carra stammered, his long, green, spindly fingers clutching what looked like a jewellery box.
"Oh my God, what's that?" Álvaro asked, grabbing the box. As Jamie spluttered in protest, Álvaro opened the box to see a pair of lovely silver cufflinks inside.
"Oh, who are these for?"
Carra hesitated. "Well, erm," he muttered, blushing underneath the green facepaint on his cheeks. "They're for you, actually. For Christmas."
Álvaro merely gazed back in awe.
"Not that I'm, you know - into you, or anything," Carra continued awkwardly. "But yeah, I just thought they were nice, but I accidentally left them in here after one of Rafa's meetings with me and Stevie, so - well, I had to come back and get them, so I could give them to you before Christmas."
"Aw, that's so sweet!" Álvaro gushed, his arms outstretched. "Give me a hug!"
"Erm, no thanks," Carra snapped, backing away.
"Okay," Álvaro replied hastily.
Carra and Álvaro looked at the floor awkwardly, the Spaniard biting his lip hesitantly.
"Oh, come on!" he squealed. "Please can I have a hug?"
"No!" Carra said irritably. "Your goal celebrations are bad enough - I don't need an excess dose of Arbeloa affection off the pitch as well."
"But, you bought me cufflinks," Álvaro said, confused.
"Look, just because I want your shirt-sleeves to look nice, it does not mean I want them around my neck."
"Fine," Álvaro pouted. "Well, can I take you out to dinner?"
"No."
"A movie?"
"No."
"What if I bring Fernando along? So it's not just the two of us?"
"Fernando? Oh yeah, and he'll make us watch some poncy animated film like last time. I swore, after that Incredibles nonsense, I'd never go to the pictures with him again."
"Oh, I loved that movie," Álvaro said excitedly as Carra made his way to the door. "I thought that Mr Incredible was kinda hot."
Carra stared at him incredulously. "He was a fucking cartoon character!"
"Minor details, Jamie," Álvaro said, rolling his eyes. "Minor details."
Putting the spare key to the office back where Javier had nicked it from, Álvaro finally opened the safe, swapped the watches and followed Carra back out into the corridor after turning out the lights. Noticing Carra stowing another copy of the office key in his pocket, Álvaro frowned.
"How did you get the key to the office, by the way?" Álvaro asked curiously.
"Oh, I just told Rafa that I'd left the cufflinks there by accident and he gave me the key."
Álvaro stared. ". . . You can't be serious."
"I am, dead serious," Carra said, turning to look at Álvaro. "Why?"
Álvaro's attempted smile looked more like a grimace as he tried not to kick himself. "Oh, nothing," he said airily. "I was just, you know - wondering."
And, walking down the corridor with Carra, trying to hold his hand only to have the Scouser swear at him, Álvaro made his first wise decision of the year, judging it best not to tell anyone that they'd all seen Javier Mascherano's Spandex-clad body for no reason.
So to celebrate, I thought I'd post the biggest piece of crack I've ever written. It actually has paragraphs. :D
Title: The Heist
Characters: Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, Daniel Agger / Steve Finnan, Fernando Torres, Pepe Reina, Álvaro Arbeloa, Javier Mascherano, Jamie Carragher, Rafa Benítez.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: You'd have to be smoking an intense amount of crack to think that this is real.
Summary: The Liverpool boys must resort to all kinds of extremes in order to keep their innate slashiness a secret from their shrewd and calculating boss. Sometimes, this involves flawed master plans, failed diversions, and badly executed explosives in one disaster of a heist. Sometimes.
Notes: It's not AU, despite what the above may suggest. They're still the same footballers - just slightly more cracktastic. I started writing this when Finns was still at the club, so let's just pretend he is still a Liverpudlian, yes? Oh, and the same goes for Andriy Voronin, who's mentioned ever so fleetingly.
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.
It began, typically, with one of Álvaro's terrible ideas.
"You can't just decide that you're in love with Jamie Carragher," Finns explained patiently. "He's really not into that."
Álvaro sighed. "I can't help it," he whined. "He's just so rugged and responsible and r-"
"Right behind you?" Daniel interjected, his eyes wide.
Álvaro spun around to see Carra's frowning face staring him down.
"What are you talking about?" the Scouser snapped. "This had better not be about your bloody crush on Sami again - I warned you, he won't stand for it! I told you to keep to yourself."
Álvaro smiled weakly. "Oh, I am keeping to myself. . . But sometimes, you know, Jamie," he simpered as he began drawing circles absent-mindedly on Carra's shoulder with his forefinger. "Sometimes, it does get very lonely when you keep to yourself. . ."
"Alright, Álvaro?" Steven suddenly stepped in, forcing a bright grin and wrenching Álvaro's hand off Carra's shoulder. "The gaffer wants to see you, come with me."
And leaving a stunned Carra behind with Daniel and Finns, who sighed resignedly as they proceeded to explain that Álvaro had merely had a bad night's sleep and was thus feeling a little needier than usual, Steven marched Álvaro down the Melwood corridor and towards Rafa's office.
* * * * *
"You're unbelievable, you are," Steven muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're playing a dangerous game there, mate, messing with Carra like that."
Álvaro merely sighed happily at the mention of Carra's name as he pulled out a box from his pocket. "Look at this," he said excitedly, opening the box and showing Steven a glittering watch inside. "It's his Christmas present!"
Steven hesitantly pulled out the watch and raised his eyebrows when he saw the words 'To Jamie, love Álvaro' engraved on the inside.
"Who the fuck calls him Jamie?" Steven asked incredulously.
"I do!" Álvaro said defiantly. "It's so much nicer than Carra - so much sweeter, and sexier. . . Jamie."
Steven rolled his eyes as they turned the corner just outside Rafa's office, but his face quickly broke into a smile as he bumped into Xabi, dressed sharply in a suit.
"Oh, you look nice," Steven said, immediately becoming a little flustered. "Is that the tie I picked out for you?"
Xabi blushed. "Yeah, it is."
"See, I told you blue looks good on you," Steven smiled.
Álvaro grinned across at the two midfielders, clutching his hands together in joy. "Aw, you guys are so High School Musical!"
Steven stared as Xabi raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think that was supposed to be a compliment," he said to Steven.
Steven shook his head disbelievingly. "See you later, Álvaro," he said before walking away with Xabi, Álvaro trying to suppress squeals of delight as he watched the two of them tentatively entwine their fingers together as they walked side by side.
* * * * *
Rafa was in his usual brisk and businesslike mood. "I need your advice, Álvaro," he said simply.
Álvaro was slightly surprised - the last time Rafa had asked him for advice was after Álvaro had gotten a little too drunk at Pepe's birthday party, and Rafa had politely asked him the next day at training, "Which do you think I should do, Álvaro? Fine you, ban you for the next game, or tell your mother?" At which point Álvaro had almost cried in fear, and hysterically phoned his mother each day for the next week to ensure that Rafa hadn't told her anything.
"What for?" he asked hesitantly as Rafa got up from his chair.
Rafa pulled out a box similar to the one in Álvaro's hands from the safe behind his desk, opening it to reveal a gorgeous ladies watch.
"I bought this for my wife, for Christmas. I was just after your opinion - do you think she'll like it?"
This time, Álvaro did actually squeal in delight, dropping Carra's watch onto the desk and leaning over to grab the box out of Rafa's hands.
"Oh, it's divine," Álvaro purred, holding it up to the light. "It is so fabulous, it must have cost you a fortune! Seriously, if she doesn't like it, I'd honestly consider getting her looked at by a doctor."
"Yes, thank you, Álvaro," Rafa said tersely. "So I should definitely give it to her?"
"Oh, yes," Álvaro nodded firmly, beaming up at his boss, completely flattered to have been asked his opinion on what he felt was a decidedly important matter.
"Excellent," Rafa said, clapping his hands together. "Okay, you can leave now," he said pointedly.
"Oh, uh, right," Álvaro stammered, quickly getting up and grabbing his watch off the desk. "I'm just glad I could help!" And as he left the office, he couldn't help grinning to himself, feeling particularly special about having been picked as something of a fashion expert in the eyes of his superior.
* * * * *
"I just really don't think she should be playing with Barbies anymore," Steven said solemnly to the other players lounging on the sofas in the Melwood games room. "I mean, Alex is a grown woman - surely she should let the girls have them instead?"
As Pepe and Xabi nodded wearily, Álvaro froze. Having opened the box in his hands for the first time since leaving Rafa's office, he was now sitting in bolt upright in his chair with a look of complete horror on his face.
"What?" Xabi asked exhaustedly. "Did you forget to engrave a love-heart onto it, or something?"
Álvaro merely swallowed desperately as he handed the watch over.
Xabi stared. "This is a girl's watch, Álvaro."
"Don't you think I know that?" Álvaro hissed, panicked.
Pepe frowned, looking from Álvaro to Xabi in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Steven rolled his eyes as Álvaro launched into a hurried explanation. "I bought a watch for Carra and Rafa bought one for his wife, but I accidentally left mine in his office and took his instead!"
Pepe scratched his chin. "So?"
"So," Steven said, "Álvaro decided it'd be nice to engrave, 'To Jamie, love Álvaro' onto it. Cos he's a daft twat," he added, glaring at Álvaro.
"Who the fuck calls him Jamie?" Pepe asked.
"I do!" Álvaro snapped.
Xabi sighed. "This is not good. This is not good at all. If Rafa finds it, with that stupid inscription, our entire secret will be blown."
"What secret?" Pepe asked. "Why are you guys acting like this is World War Three?"
"Rafa can't possibly know that some of us are - well - fucking each other. It would mean the end of our careers. And," Xabi added pointedly, "he might even call our mothers."
"Oh," Pepe said, finally comprehending the gravity of the situation and nodding fervently. "I see. Well, then, we have to find some way of getting the watch back!"
"But how?" Steven moaned. "He doesn't let anyone into his office. We can't just walk in and get it back!"
"And, he put the watch into a safe," Álvaro added despairingly.
"Fuck," Pepe muttered, before pausing in thought. "Wait - why do I care? I'm not screwing my teammates."
"Oh, I don't know," Steven snapped. "Maybe because your team wouldn't be any good if half of us were sacked?"
"Oh, right," Pepe nodded reluctantly. "So - we have to break in?"
"Looks like it," Xabi nodded, heaving a resigned sigh.
"Hey guys," Fernando said brightly as he entered the room, collapsing onto one of the sofas. "What you are talking about?"
"Oh, stuff," Pepe said casually. "Transfer rumours. Ideas for Christmas party costumes. How to break into Rafa's office to retrieve the watch that Álvaro bought for Carra and put the watch that Rafa bought for his wife back in its place. You know, the usual."
* * * * *
Steven, being the organised fellow that he believed himself to be, had taken the time to draw up all sorts of plans with which the boys would hopefully be able to break into Rafa's office. One depressing afternoon, after a long day of training, he assembled the Spaniards, Daniel and Finns in a storeroom, and laid out his intricate drawings.
Pepe sniggered. "Stick figures?"
Steven glared across at the goalkeeper. "Well, nobody else was taking the initiative!"
"You should have gotten Dan to draw them," Finns said wisely. "He's very good."
Daniel blushed and smiled bashfully at Finns, as Pepe rolled his eyes in disgust. "Keep in your pants, guys, please," he said sharply, nodding pointedly towards the pitiful drawings laid out in front of them.
As Daniel huffed slightly, Steven began to explain his ideas. Pointing to various parts of the maps he'd drawn, he explained that there was an air-conditioning vent through which somebody could crawl and get into the office. From there, they would retrieve the spare key that Rafa surely kept somewhere amongst his things. With the key, Álvaro would simply be able to walk in when the boss was away, somehow open the safe (Steven hadn't figured this part out yet), swap the watches, put the stolen key back, and resume life as an undercover manslut.
"I can't believe you thought all that up yourself," Finns said in awe, once Steven had finished. "I honestly didn't think you were capable of it."
"I thought it up," Xabi interrupted haughtily. "Steven stole my ideas."
"Hey, that's not true!" Steven said indignantly. "I came up with the watch-swapping part."
"But that is the most obvious part, no?" Fernando interjected.
"Shut up, you," Steven mumbled, rolling up his paper and clutching it to his chest defensively. "Leave my plans alone, they're bloody awesome."
"Yeah, awesomely bad," Álvaro quipped.
"Hey, if you hadn't decided to fall in love with Carra in the first place -"
"I couldn't help it!" Álvaro wailed. "It's his sexy Scouse accent."
"I have a Scouse accent."
"Ew, Stevie," Álvaro said, wrinkling his nose. "No offence, but I could never love a man with no forehead."
* * * * *
Steven, having adopted Xabi's plans with enthusiasm but no real insight, had perhaps not thought everything through as thoroughly as Xabi would have liked, being the considerably less intelligent half of their relationship. If their idea was to work, Xabi had to take greater initiative.
He decided that none of the boys whom Steven had assembled were quite small enough to fit into the air-conditioning duct that led to Rafa's office. This particular job required someone tiny and limber - and, more importantly, someone who wouldn't ask too many questions. Xabi therefore took it upon himself to recruit a new member to their disfunctional crew.
So, waiting for Javier Mascherano, who had agreed most enthusiastically to help them out, Xabi stood outside the Melwood dressing rooms with Álvaro and a slightly confused Fernando.
"I don't understand why we're being so shifty - hiding in storerooms and all that," Fernando said.
Álvaro sighed. "Nobody goes into Rafa's office unless he's there. You know how Pako Ayesteran's gone?"
"Well, I did notice that our assistant manager had left, yes," Fernando said, rolling his eyes.
"The last thing he ever did at this club was go into that office uninvited," Álvaro said ominously. "Next thing, he was on a plane to Italy."
"He went to Portugal, actually," Xabi interrupted.
"Okay, whatever," Álvaro said, waving a dismissive hand. "But you get my point?" he asked Fernando.
"Yes, I get it. Entering office is a no-no."
Álvaro shook his head. "A big no-no," he corrected wisely.
Javier stepped out of the changing rooms dressed in the tight, black Spandex gym outfit that Pepe had borrowed from his wife Yolanda (and would now never give back to her). The look of excited delight on Javier's face had now been replaced by slight hesitation, as he looked down at his rather exposed body.
Álvaro gawked at Javier's figure, paying particular attention to his lower half. Gazing wide-eyed up at Fernando, he dramatically mouthed the words "Oh my God" and tried to contain his excitement as Fernando turned away, embarrassed.
"Why me?" Javier asked, pulling at the fabric clinging to his skin. "Why not Yossi, or Jermaine? They're small too."
Xabi rolled his eyes. "Benayoun's too much of a kiss-ass to do anything to his beloved Benítez," he explained. "And Pennant has about as much subtlety as a beached whale on crack."
* * * * *
There was, evidently, little point in breaking into Rafa's office if the boys were unable to penetrate the safe itself. It was therefore necessary to concoct a foolproof way of getting past that little metal door. Having abandoned attempts at cracking the four-digit code after hours of impatiently watching Xabi try and fail to come up with mathematical algorithms to predict it, they decided on something a little more raw.
At least, Daniel did.
"You came up with an explosive?" Pepe asked him incredulously.
"Yes," Daniel replied defiantly. "Well - you know how I like to cook -"
"What, you plan on popping a bag of flour in Rafa's face?" Pepe sniggered.
"No! Come on, be serious here for a second. All it takes is a little baking soda and vinegar - well, a lot of it, really. And voilà - explosion!"
"And you know this - how?" Finns asked, looking slightly worried.
Daniel blushed. "One of my cakes went wrong one time. In, like, July."
"Oh," Álvaro said knowingly. "That's why you shaved your head."
* * * * *
Unfortunately for our masterminds, Carra was more astute than they had originally given him credit for. Every time several of them would huddle together in a corner, discussing the plans, Carra would glance over suspiciously. He noticeably crept a little closer, trying to hear their hushed whispers. Occasionally, he would even march over and tell them, in no uncertain terms, that gossiping was strictly against team code.
Steven thus judged it necessary to divert his vice-captain - to somehow lead him away from the group so that they could carry out their plans in peace. This was how he and Daniel found themselves peering behind a corner as they watched a beaming Javier Mascherano attempting to convince Carra that he'd rather spend his afternoon outdoors than indoors.
Daniel stared, his mouth slightly open as Javier flashed a rather leering smile at Carra. "I never realised how terrifying Masch can be," Daniel whispered in horror.
Steven watched as Carra stared incredulously down at the diminutive Argentine, before launching into what looked like a rather furious lecture, Javier shrinking slowly against the wall. Steven closed his eyes in frustration. "Yeah, well, he's nowhere near as terrifying as Carra."
After Carra had given up screaming at the petrified midfielder and headed towards the gym, Javier slowly walked back to Steven and Daniel, looking down at his shoes rather shamefully.
"I say that I want him to help me go and buy flowers for my wife," he explained as Daniel and Steven listened in despair. "But I say by accident that they are for his wife."
Gritting his teeth, Steven inhaled sharply as Daniel rolled his eyes impatiently. "Ah well," Steven said tersely, patting Javier awkwardly on the back. "You tried."
* * * * *
While the others tried to keep Carra and Rafa well away from the storeroom, Álvaro, Finns and Xabi were all crowded around Daniel one morning as the Dane decided to test out his explosive in an old bucket.
The boys held their breath as Daniel carefully measured out the right amount of vinegar, ready to pour it onto the strange soap-like block he'd made the night before.
"Are you ready, guys?" Daniel asked nervously.
"We've been ready for half an hour," Pepe said wearily.
"Okay, okay." Then, as the others watched in hesitation, Daniel poured the vinegar onto the block inside the bucket in one swift movement.
It had the effect of a bath fizzer. After bubbling up for a few seconds, it hissed tamely and formed an unthreatening glob at the bottom of the bucket. The boys watched the fizzing mess blankly.
"Epic fail, Danny," Álvaro said, unimpressed, as Daniel's face fell.
"Well, it is baking soda," Pepe shrugged, standing up and stretching wearily as he looked at his watch.
Daniel pouted as Finns put his arms around the defender and consoled him with a kiss. "Ignore them, Dan," he cooed. "I thought it was a really good bomb - potentially, anyway." Daniel smiled sadly as he kissed Finns back, wrapping an arm around the Irishman's neck.
"Oh, come on!" Pepe said in disgust. "In your pants!"
* * * * *
It took Daniel a while to forgive Álvaro for his less-than-enthusiastic response to his attempt at an explosive. Sitting in the Melwood cafeteria area, Daniel was shooting Álvaro glares at every word the Spaniard said, while Finns, sandwiched between them, desperately tried to lighten the mood.
"Xabi said he had an idea on how to get into the safe," Finns said tentatively over a cup of coffee. "That's good news, isn't it?"
"If it's another explosion, count me out," Álvaro said firmly. "That vinegar made my eyes tingle."
Daniel's face darkened as he pointedly shifted in his seat and folded his arms. Finns cringed - as much as he loved the Dane, he had to admit that he was overly sensitive at times.
"Álvaro," Finns hissed, turning away from Daniel. "Can you please try to be a little more tactful? You're just being stupid, it's obvious that Dan's upset!"
Daniel snorted. "Calling Álvaro stupid is an insult to stupid people," he muttered.
Finns rolled his eyes as Álvaro huffed next to him, but turned around when he felt the Spaniard's body suddenly tense up. Álvaro pointed towards the door, where Carra seemed to be making his way towards the storeroom, in which the remnants of Daniel's glob of an explosive were still sitting.
"Oh shit," Finns muttered to himself. "What the fuck is he going there for?"
Álvaro bit his lip, glancing furtively at Daniel, who was the closest to Carra.
"Danny - behind you - Carra - do something - storeroom!" Álvaro stammered, his eyes wide.
Daniel blinked, his arms still folded stubbornly. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that in English? I don't speak imbecile."
Álvaro wrung his hands frantically. "Carra - about to go there - have to stop him - storeroom - the plan - shit!"
Daniel rolled his eyes. "You know what? Just keep talking, Álvaro - you'll surely say something coherent eventually."
Finns decided to take action. Bounding up from his seat, he hurriedly made his way over to Carra and blocked his path.
"What are you doing?" he panted, standing in front of the door.
Carra frowned. "What are you doing, more like. Move!"
"Why?" Finns asked, glancing over at Daniel and Álvaro, who were both raising their eyebrows worriedly.
"Because I, erm, I've got to -" Carra stammered. "I've got to go somewhere."
Finns narrowed his eyes as Carra's cheeks reddened slightly. "Oh yeah? Where?"
"None of your business!"
Finns glanced over to the others again, desperate for some help. Álvaro merely shrugged helplessly, while Daniel threw his head into his hands in disgust. Somewhat defeated, Finns reluctantly moved aside to allow Carra through.
His foot, however, lingered a little longer in front of the door - Carra tripped over it and was sent flying.
"Fuck!" the Scouser yelped as he lay on the ground, clutching his foot. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Finns blushed. "Oh, oops," he muttered with a sheepish smile. "Clumsy me."
"Fuckin' hell, Finns," Carra snapped as he got up gingerly. "Now I'm going to have to go to the physio, well done!"
"The physio?" Finns asked with interest. "Well, that's through the other door, isn't it?"
Carra merely glared back as he turned around and limped off in the opposite direction. Finns, heaving a sigh of relief, chose to ignore Daniel's look of reprehension as he sat down.
Álvaro rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself. "This is getting way too stressful, guys. I don't even like him that much any more," he said wearily. "But that Škrtel, on the other hand. . ."
Finns stared in disbelief. "Oh, no. Don't you even think about getting him a watch now."
"Oh, of course not," Álvaro said hastily. ". . . A necklace is so much more his style."
* * * * *
Xabi soon decided that Finns was easily the most intelligent of the team - apart from himself, of course - and, witnessing a grumbling Carra trudging out of the physio's office, decided that the Irishman would be the best person to helping him with the most complex part of the plan.
Having invited Finns over for a late-night coffee, Xabi watched his clock ticking closer to midnight as the two of them sat grumpily in his living room. Xabi's idea had been to launch into an inspiring brainstorm session, during which their two astute minds would surely come up with a flawless strategy or two. But, he reflected as he got up to make another cup of coffee, it turned out that strokes of inspiration couldn't be planned.
"I think we should call it a night," Finns said sleepily as Xabi forced another cup into his hands. "We haven't come up with anything feasible."
"You haven't," Xabi corrected. "I'm the only one who's been trying here."
Finns closed his eyes in exhaustion. "I did think of the plan to get Javier to leave his camera-phone in the office, like surveillance, so that we can watch the safe just in case Rafa opens it and hopefully get a shot of the code."
"Steve," Xabi said patiently. "That's an idiotic idea, and you know it. And, look, I hate to be mean, but can we really trust Javier to do that properly? He's not the brightest crayon in the box."
"He can't help it," Finns said, trying to be fair.
"What, did his parents drop him on his head when he was a baby?"
"Xabi!"
"What? I just don't think people are born that stupid."
"What about your boyfriend?" Finns asked incredulously.
"Stevie's not stupid, he's just a little. . . well. . ."
"Stupid."
"Look - if you want to go through with this lame idea, you do it. I'm out. There is no way I'm even going to attempt to explain something that complicated to Javier."
"Oh, come on!" Finns cried out in disbelief. "He barely understands English, it makes no sense for me to do it!"
Xabi paused. Finns had a point.
"We'll get Pepe to do it."
* * * * *
"And precisely why do I have to deal with the monkey?"
Xabi rolled his eyes at the argumentative tone of Pepe's voice. "Because I'm be setting up the computer tonight, Finns isn't Latino enough, and the rest - well - the rest are idiots."
"Well, that's true," Pepe conceded. "But what about Fernando?"
"Would you trust Javier and Fernando to get this done? They'd end up getting bored and singing Disney songs to each other."
"Seriously?"
Xabi sighed. "Unfortunately - I've seen it happen."
Pepe shuddered at the memory of Fernando's tone-deafness, which he'd been all too unlucky to witness after Spain had won the Euro's, when Fernando had injested a little too much alcohol and gotten a little too excited when Álvaro had pulled out his Shakira CD.
Not wishing such pain upon anyone's ears, Pepe found himself grudgingly skulking around the Melwood carpark in the middle of the night, Javier by his side, checking that the coast was clear.
"I think I saw something move!" Javier whispered hysterically, grabbing Pepe's sleeve.
Pepe rolled his eyes as he looked in the direction that the Argentine had turned his head. "It's your reflection, Javier," he said impatiently.
After Javier had finally judged the area to be completely empty - Pepe having decided about ten minutes earlier that it was, but being frantically held back by the panicky midfielder who, for several minutes, was convinced that a nearby bin was actually Rafa in disguise - the two of them made their way inside and found the end of the air-conditioning duct that Xabi had pointed out to them earlier.
"It's awfully small," Javier said nervously.
"Yeah, well, so are you," Pepe said shortly. "Get in!"
Javier tentatively pulled off his tracksuit to reveal the Spandex get-up which Pepe had pulled out of his wife's wardrobe. He shuddered a little as he saw the outfit now worn by a short, rather hairy Argentine. He would need copious amounts of sex with Yolanda to erase this particular image from his mind.
"Do you really think Rafa will realise that the watch is different?" Javier asked, rapidly getting cold feet.
"Well, firstly," Pepe said, pretending to think very hard, "it's a man's watch. But if that somehow escapes his attention, there is a chance he may just notice Álvaro's declaration of love for Carra engraved onto it."
"Oh. Yeah, that could be a problem," Javier acknowledged.
"You think?!"
"Oh, I wish I'd never agreed to do this," Javier whined as he hoisted himself up into the duct. "What is it they say? . . . Bliss is ignorance!"
"Yeah, well, then you must be the happiest person alive," Pepe mumbled.
As Pepe waited in the corridor, Javier crawled through the duct with little shuffling noises and grunts that Pepe tried desperately to ignore - as if he needed noises to go with the image of Javier ingrained in his head.
About ten minutes later, he got a call from Javier. This couldn't be good.
"What's wrong?" Pepe asked nervously.
"I think I'm in the office."
". . . Well, that's good, isn't it?"
"Uhm . . ."
Pepe heard a thud. "Javier? Javier?"
"Yeah, I'm here, I'm okay."
"I wasn't worried about you, I worried about your phone," Pepe said impatiently.
"I don't think I can do this," Javier whimpered. "It's completely dark, I can't see a thing."
". . . It's called a light switch."
* * * * *
"Airm, so I'm jus' fearin' de wairst, y'know, like. An' I think youse should make sure nuttin's, airm, gettin' inteh the gaffeh's stuff, he'd be dead stroppy. Like."
Daniel and Xabi merely stared in horror at Finns as the Irishman spoke into his phone, trying to impersonate one of the senior security guards as he worked to convince Rafa's wife that he'd seen somebody breaking into his office.
"Yeh don' wanna leave it 'til temorra, dale prolly get away by den, all dese derty stopouts. . . Oh, yis, I wuz gawpin' at 'im wid eyes like 'atpegs, I wuz. And I said, warra yer like? I'm norracceptindat, I'm not. Yer wha'? . . . Oh, airm, five minutes ago, la. I mean, airm, la-ette. . . Miss? Missus? Ta. . . Like."
Finns hung up the phone with a relieved sigh.
"That was the worst Scouse accent I've ever heard," Xabi said blankly.
"I was trying to sound like Carra," Finns said defensively.
"Exactly."
Daniel clapped his hands. "Focus, guys. Focus. So, we've made sure that Rafa's going to open the safe to make sure nothing's been 'stolen'. But has Masch done his job right? What if we can't actually see the safe from where he put his phone?"
Finns shook his head. "Pepe told me that Javier put the phone inside Rafa's pen-stand, with the camera facing the safe so that, no matter where Rafa stands, when he punches in the code, the camera will pick it up. He won't even notice that the phone's there, because Javier hid it so well. And he found the spare office key in the desk drawer, he's already given it to Álvaro."
"Wow," Xabi said, somehow feeling impressed and bemused at the same time. "I guess Javier's done his thinking for the year."
Daniel nodded, surprised. "Now we just have to wait for Álvaro to do something smart."
Finns shook his head in disbelief. "You really have to get over that, you know. I don't think he meant anything by it."
Daniel pouted stubbornly. "He never does mean anything. He just talks, without thinking. Like a robot. But a brainless one."
Xabi frowned. "Aren't all robots brainless? You know, being machines and all."
"Are all Spaniards bitches?" Daniel snapped. "You know, being, uh, bitchy, and all." His stammerings trailed away as he looked down awkwardly.
Xabi raised his eyebrows. "Are you done being an incoherent, insecure idiot?"
Daniel looked down as Finns huffed in annoyance at yet another person making fun of his boyfriend.
"Good," Xabi continued with satisfaction. "I've already got a fragile, clumsy, inarticulate baby boy at home - I don't need another one here."
"Oh, don't be so harsh on him," Finns smirked. "I'm sure Stevie's not that bad."
* * * * *
Labelled the 'nerd' of the group by Pepe, Fernando was the only person well-equipped enough with a computer to carry out the next stage in their strategy. The only problem, as Steven soon discovered, was Fernando's inherent lack of ability to comprehend, well, anything.
"Can you link up your computer to Masch's phone?" Steven asked, glancing at his watch.
"Link?" Fernando frowned. "How I can do that? His phone is there, my computer is here."
Steven rolled his eyes. He knew he'd had good reason to assign Xabi to this task - and better reason to be furious that he hadn't turned up. "Masch has left his phone on the video-camera function," he explained. "Can you connect your computer to it, so that we can see into Rafa's office?"
"We can't see into Rafa's office from here. Is too far."
Steven groaned. "I thought Xabi went through all of this with you?"
"He went where?"
"Look, you have to use your computer to dial Masch's phone, and then we'll be able to see the safe and figure out what the code is," Steven explained as patiently as possible. "Hurry up, Rafa's on his way there now!"
"On his way where? He is going with Xabi?"
"Xabi's not going anywhere!"
"Then why he is not here?"
"Because we - we had a fight, if you really must know. He hasn't spoken to me since I said his plans were mine."
"You stealed his plants?"
"No, not his -"
"Yes, they are his! And you steal them? But - why? Is so strange!"
"It's not strange, because I didn't steal them!"
"Oh. . . You borrow them, no? You cannot grow your own plants? You are infertile?"
"Oi! Watch who you're calling infertile!"
"I am watching you."
"Yes, I can see that."
"Yes, I know you can see me. I can see you too."
"I'm not bloody infertile. I've got two kids, in case you haven't noticed."
"How I cannot notice? I already say I am watching you - I am not blind, Stevie."
"No, you're just fuckin' stupid."
"No, I am not stupid when I fuck. I am very creative. You have heard of Kama Sutra?"
Steven fast gave up on conversing with the Spaniard, noticing that time was running out, and that the boss would surely be approaching Melwood by now. Grabbing the computer mouse from Fernando's hand and jostling him out of his seat, Steven sat down and attempted to make the connection himself. After trying to ignore the picture of a rather disturbingly oily Sergio Ramos on Fernando's desktop wallpaper, and occasionally interrupted by Fernando telling him that Firefox was not, in fact, a computer game about animals, and that 'Babel Fish' had nothing to do with the young Dutch striker, Steven finally got the video function working.
As the two of them watched the dark room through the lens of Javier's camera phone, the lights in the office finally turned on and Rafa bustled in.
"Is he - are they yellow flannel pyjamas he's wearing?" Steven asked in disbelief.
"Oh, I have same ones," Fernando said, nodding. "They are very warm. They have ducks on them."
Holding his breath, Steven watched attentively as Fernando silently counted the ducks on Rafa's pyjamas. Javier's placement of the phone was such that they were able to see Rafa punch in the code with no problem at all.
"9. 6. 9. 2," Steven muttered, writing it down on a nearby scrap of paper. Then, smiling, he looked up at Fernando. "Wow, I guess he really does love the club, then."
Fernando merely raised his eyebrows, still transfixed by the yellow on the computer monitor.
Steven rolled his eyes impatiently. "9-6-9-2. Y-N-W-A."
Fernando dragged his eyes away from the screen when Rafa turned the lights out, frowning slightly in confusion. "What is Yinwah?"
* * * * *
There was a good reason why Álvaro decided to be a spoil-sport and turn up to the Christmas party in an inconspicuous, all-black ensemble. (He had tried to spruce up the look with a gold tinsel necklace of sorts, but Fernando had quite seriously told him that it clashed with his skin tone.) He arrived with Jermaine Pennant, dressed as a giant squirrel, who assured the awaiting press that Álvaro was "probably a bandit, or somethin' stupid like tha'," and, incidentally, wasn't far off the mark.
Álvaro did feel rather disappointed that he couldn't join in on the fun of dressing up, noting with particular delight Javier's Spiderman costume (he still enjoyed seeing the Argentine in skin-tight Spandex - although the others, who were looking away rather pointedly, didn't seem to agree), Lucas Leiva effortlessly pulling off a Marilyn Monroe impersonation, and Jamie Carragher in the costume he was born to wear - the Grinch who stole Christmas. He tried to congratulate Andriy Voronin on his excellent gnome costume, but had to hurry away in embarrassment when Fabio Aurelio told him in a whisper that Andriy hadn't dressed up at all, and he was similarly surprised when he learnt that Martin Škrtel's prison inmate look wasn't a costume either.
Indeed, Álvaro wished he could have stuck around and enjoyed the party with the rest of the boys. But, with every intention of sliding through the mass of vibrant costumes, Álvaro tried to avoid eye contact with everyone and escape through the back door - tonight was the night that he was finally going to swap those darn watches.
But, as he craned his neck assessing Fernando's costume with a puzzled frown, he bumped into Pepe, dressed as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and Daniel, looking rather pale and skinny in a massively oversized rapper's outfit - complete with a grill on his teeth.
"Oh, hey," Álvaro said. "Have you got any idea why Fernando looks like a girl?"
Daniel stared back, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, because he's Fernando? And part of being Fernando means looking like a girl at all times?"
Pepe rolled his eyes as the bickering and elaborately costumed Steven and Xabi hurriedly walked past, Xabi apparently unhappy with the fact that he was the long-haired, fake-breasted, lipsticked Juliet to Steven's rather more flattering Romeo.
"Fernando is Legolas," Pepe explained. "You know, from Lord Of The Rings."
Álvaro cringed. "He really felt the need to dress up as that guy? As if having that awful tattoo wasn't bad enough -"
But his words were cut short as Rafa Benítez suddenly appeared in front of him, in a Santa costume which looked alarmingly appropriate on him.
"Álvaro," Rafa said with a dangerous smile. "I was meaning to talk to you about my watch, there might be something a little wrong with it. . . Meet me by the bar in a few minutes?"
Álvaro froze. "Uh, okay," he mumbled. "Sure."
"Great." Rafa left the three of them standing by the door in horror, Daniel slightly distracted by the arrival of Sami Hyypiä inexplicably dressed up as a giant peacock.
Pepe gazed at Rafa's retreating back, wide-eyed. "Well," he said, slightly stunned. "This looks potentially disastrous."
Álvaro snorted. "Not as disastrous as an explosive made out of baking soda."
"You know what?" Daniel interrupted, fuming, his words slightly muffled through his grill. "Fuck the fuck off. When you decide to grow a brain, you can come back. I'll throw you a party."
Álvaro rolled his eyes. "You have problems. A superiority complex, otherwise known as a badly-disguised inferiority complex. There are pills for that," he added smugly. "Homie."
"Will you stop sniping at each other and figure out what you're going to say?" Pepe demanded. "If Rafa's noticed something, we're screwed!"
"Correction, Álvaro is screwed," Daniel said smugly. "Rafa has no idea we were involved in any of this."
Pepe paused. "True." Shoving Álvaro towards the bar, his nerves eased. "Well, go on then," he said with a mischievous smile.
Álvaro glared back at Pepe. "I am never speaking to you again."
Daniel smiled. "You know what?" he prodded Pepe as Álvaro trudged away. "I think that's a very good thing."
* * * * *
"Well, what did he want?" Pepe hissed as he and Álvaro slid out the back door of the restaurant and into the goalkeeper's awaiting car.
Álvaro waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't worry - he just thought the watch needed more diamonds. Which, of course, I wholeheartedly agree with. I told him, you can never have too much bling." Álvaro paused as Pepe's car slunk through streets lined with Christmas lights. "I don't think he knows what 'bling' means, but he got the general point."
Relieved, Pepe turned on the radio and hit the gas as they veered ever closer to Melwood.
"Oh, Enrique Iglesias!" Álvaro yelped in delight. "I love this song!"
Pepe rolled his eyes. "Your taste is worse than Xabi's, and he listens to George Michael."
"Speaking of Xabi," Álvaro said seriously, "I've noticed that he's becoming really into Stevie."
"Well, they are, you know - together."
"Oh really?" Álvaro rolled his eyes. "I had no idea."
"Are you being sarcastic with me?" Pepe asked in disbelief. "I didn't even know you knew what sarcasm was."
"Pepe," Álvaro said patronisingly. "What you don't know could fill Anfield. And then some."
Pepe clenched his jaw as he hit the brake suddenly. "I don't have to drive you to Melwood, you know," he said firmly. "I could just turn back around and leave your goddamn watch there."
"Keep your hair on," Álvaro said hastily. "Well, your metaphorical hair, anyway. But, come on - haven't you noticed that Xabi's been really, really preoccupied by Stevie lately? To the point of obsession?"
"I don't think you're one to talk about obsession," Pepe muttered.
"All he cares about is Stevie. As it is, he had no life before Stevie. Now it's even worse. Like he has a negative life."
". . . You know what's sad, Álvaro? You think so much, but so little comes of it," Pepe said, shaking his head. "Oh look - a pink car!"
"Where?" Álvaro squealed, twisting in his seat.
"Made you look!"
Álvaro sighed. "You are such an eight-year-old boy, sometimes, Pepe."
"And you're such an eight-year-old girl."
"Aw, thanks!" Álvaro blushed.
The two Spaniards soon arrived at Melwood, and pulling into the carpark, Pepe decided to call Daniel to make sure nobody had noticed their absence from the party, while Álvaro quickly sneaked his way to Rafa's office.
Pepe rubbed his eyes wearily as Daniel snapped at him agitatedly through the phone.
"Rafa's clinging to me," Daniel whined. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get the smell of his cologne out of my hair."
"What does he want?" Pepe asked exhaustedly. "I knew you were one of his favourites, but I didn't think it would escalate to stalking."
"It's not what he wants, it's what he knows," Daniel hissed.
Pepe froze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, he found the remains of my baking soda bomb in the storeroom!"
Pepe cringed. "And what did you say?"
"I told him that - that . . ." Daniel's voice trailed away.
"Oh dear God, what?" Pepe asked, filled with dread.
"I told him that I had some domestic problems. But, uh - this made him - uh -"
"What?"
"Well, he seemed to think that they were my, uh - bodily fluids."
Pepe stared ahead blankly. ". . . Awkward."
* * * * *
After hurtling down the corridors, Álvaro finally reached Rafa's office. Steadying his breath, he pulled the key out of his pocket and slid it into the keyhole. Breathing a sigh of relief when he heard the lock click open, he pushed the door with a triumphant smile and reached for the light switch.
The only problem being that the light was already on. And someone was already inside.
"Jamie?" Álvaro gaped in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Turning around abruptly, his panicked look somehow making his Grinch make-up even funnier, Carra stammered, his long, green, spindly fingers clutching what looked like a jewellery box.
"Oh my God, what's that?" Álvaro asked, grabbing the box. As Jamie spluttered in protest, Álvaro opened the box to see a pair of lovely silver cufflinks inside.
"Oh, who are these for?"
Carra hesitated. "Well, erm," he muttered, blushing underneath the green facepaint on his cheeks. "They're for you, actually. For Christmas."
Álvaro merely gazed back in awe.
"Not that I'm, you know - into you, or anything," Carra continued awkwardly. "But yeah, I just thought they were nice, but I accidentally left them in here after one of Rafa's meetings with me and Stevie, so - well, I had to come back and get them, so I could give them to you before Christmas."
"Aw, that's so sweet!" Álvaro gushed, his arms outstretched. "Give me a hug!"
"Erm, no thanks," Carra snapped, backing away.
"Okay," Álvaro replied hastily.
Carra and Álvaro looked at the floor awkwardly, the Spaniard biting his lip hesitantly.
"Oh, come on!" he squealed. "Please can I have a hug?"
"No!" Carra said irritably. "Your goal celebrations are bad enough - I don't need an excess dose of Arbeloa affection off the pitch as well."
"But, you bought me cufflinks," Álvaro said, confused.
"Look, just because I want your shirt-sleeves to look nice, it does not mean I want them around my neck."
"Fine," Álvaro pouted. "Well, can I take you out to dinner?"
"No."
"A movie?"
"No."
"What if I bring Fernando along? So it's not just the two of us?"
"Fernando? Oh yeah, and he'll make us watch some poncy animated film like last time. I swore, after that Incredibles nonsense, I'd never go to the pictures with him again."
"Oh, I loved that movie," Álvaro said excitedly as Carra made his way to the door. "I thought that Mr Incredible was kinda hot."
Carra stared at him incredulously. "He was a fucking cartoon character!"
"Minor details, Jamie," Álvaro said, rolling his eyes. "Minor details."
Putting the spare key to the office back where Javier had nicked it from, Álvaro finally opened the safe, swapped the watches and followed Carra back out into the corridor after turning out the lights. Noticing Carra stowing another copy of the office key in his pocket, Álvaro frowned.
"How did you get the key to the office, by the way?" Álvaro asked curiously.
"Oh, I just told Rafa that I'd left the cufflinks there by accident and he gave me the key."
Álvaro stared. ". . . You can't be serious."
"I am, dead serious," Carra said, turning to look at Álvaro. "Why?"
Álvaro's attempted smile looked more like a grimace as he tried not to kick himself. "Oh, nothing," he said airily. "I was just, you know - wondering."
And, walking down the corridor with Carra, trying to hold his hand only to have the Scouser swear at him, Álvaro made his first wise decision of the year, judging it best not to tell anyone that they'd all seen Javier Mascherano's Spandex-clad body for no reason.