(no subject)
title: a red devil’s livejournal (6/?)
rating: pg-13
pairings: a few implied, but nothing yet. we'll see.
author's note: it's been a long time, no? hopefully you are all still interested in this. this is for tasteslikeboys who wanted an update. ♥
six
got giggs? it does the body good. gotgiggs wrote on December 4th, 2007
everyone. my house. now!
imsofly commented:
why?
leggomyeggo commented:
no, thanks.
theboywhoscored commented:
is this a joke?
gingerspice replied:
if this were a joke, gary's name would be in there somewhere.
gazfather replied:
yeah? okay, here's one. why did the chicken cross the road?
gingerspice replied:
because gary neville was beside him.
rockinthecurls replied:
ROTFL
imsofly replied:
i got one. what do you get when you mix an egg and a barrel?
gingerspice replied:
gary neville.
rockinthecurls replied:
*facepalm*
dafletch replied:
*lipbalm*
rockinthecurls replied:
O________O
gotgiggs replied:
WOULD YOU ALL STOP SPAMMING MY ENTRY AND JUST GET OVER HERE?
***
One hour later, Rio barges into Ryan's house followed by the rest of the squad. "This better be important, Giggsy," he mutters, splaying himself on the nearest couch. The co-captain looks around, making sure everyone was there, and frowns when he doesn’t see one particular person.
“Where is Wayne?”
“Outside,” Ronnie replies, with a roll of his eyes. “She won’t come in.”
“She?”
“Bella,” Ronnie answers exasperated. “She don’t like your house.”
Ryan knows the name sounded familiar, but he still isn’t sure who it is. Until of course, he hears the distinct scouse accent from outside. “Please Bella, please go inside. The rest of the lads are inside. We need to go in there.” Nemanja tilts his head to look out the window, and grins. “Bella, don’t make me carry you in there. I mean it, young lady.” A low growl in response. “Are you growling at me? Please, Bella. I’ll even let you bite Wes’ pants, like you use to.”
“Fuck,” the defender frowns. “Vida. Sit in front of me, will you?”
***
“Now that we’re all settled in,” (Wayne smiles shyly, and then stares sternly at his dog who was eyeing Wes) “I have been in charge of this year‘s Secret Santa,” (a round of groans) “Now if you can fill this out for me, it would be fan-freaking-tastic.” He holds out the stack of papers to Paul, who gapes at it, and raises his eyebrows. “Pass it around.”
“Here, Gaz,” Paul says, throwing the papers in his direction. “Ryan wants you to pass it around.”
***
“What do you want for Christmas?” Michael whispers to himself, tapping a pencil gently on his cheek. “What do you want for Christmas…”
“Your mother.”
“What?”
“Your mother.”
“What the hell?”
“Rio taught it to me the other day,” Nemanja grins.
Michael looks across at Rio who is stifling giggles, hiding his face behind his paper.
***
“Bella, come back here! Come back here, right now!” The little dog runs up the stairs, and Wayne sits at the bottom of the staircase, hoping the dog will peek around the corner and listen to his orders. Bella does return, but only to bark, then run off into a room, which the striker only hopes isn’t Ryan’s room. He runs upstairs, and slowly enters the room, and immediately hopes he doesn’t come across anything even remotely - “God, Giggsy.” A pair of underwear hanging off the bed.
Walking past the room is Rio Ferdinand, who double takes and mutters, “What the fuck are you doing in there?”
“Bella.”
A laugh, “You know, that is illegal in most places.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rio, and just help me!”
“It’s not that difficult to track a dog, you wanker,” Rio exclaims, “Look, there she is already - oh, and look what a lovely present she left too. On Giggsy’s favourite jumper, is it? He’s going to love it.” He snorts and pats Wayne on the back, before tracking back towards the staircase. “It matches the colour, don’t you think?”
“Shit.”
***
“- what I want for Christmas is for Gary to dress up as an elf and -”
“Well, you don’t have to dress up - you already look it!”
“At least I don’t sound like one.” The midfielder smiles. “And why are you reading through them all? I thought this was a secret.”
“Why? This is why,” Gary shakes the paper in front of the other man. “You’re a bad little man. You’re going to get coal.”
“As long as it isn’t the other Cole, I think I’ll survive.”
***
As the night continues, the rain outside becomes unbearable. “I saw this in a movie, once,” Nemanja tells the group. “People are all at friend’s house, and then -” All of a sudden the lights go off. “Yes, this is exactly what happens.”
“WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!” Rio screams. “Vida said so!”
“I didn’t -”
“Calm down. Jesus. It’s just a black out.”
“And then, we’ll die.” Paul snickers. “Because once the lights turn on,” he continues in his low, drawling voice. “There will be a man - wearing a black coat, his head down -” The group listens to every word he says, “And he will slowly look up, and he’ll be someone we know but never expected.”
“It’s Carlos! It’s always the new boy,” Wes chimes.
“Que?”
“Quit scaring them,” Gary sighs, making his way to the center of the room, before hitting the coffee table and swearing out loud. “FUCK. THAT HURT.”
“And,” Paul continues, “The killing begins.”
“I want to go home,” Ronnie says, somewhere to the right. “I do not like Ryan’s house.” He feels something touch his butt, a slight touch. “Not now, Wayne. I am scared.”
“What the hell are you on about over there?” Wayne replies. “I’m no where near you.”
“Then who is …”
An evil laugh sends Cristiano and Darren scattering left to right, and right to left - before they both fall on the floor, on top of someone’s leg. “I am still recovering from my injury, you know. I don’t need another setback!”
There’s a flash of light, blinding everyone. And another laugh. (The light coming from the very place where Cristiano was standing). And just like Paul had described, a man in a black coat appears to reveal….
“I can’t watch this - I can’t watch this,” Rio screams in a high pitched voice.
“You act like you lot don’t recognize me.” A familiar voice. “Now, this is what I call an entrance.”
“Smudge, you fucking wanker!”
“Do not believe his lies,” Darren squeaks. “It’s all part of his plan. Now he’s going to go after the good-looking one. Goodbye fair mates, it has been a pleasure but my time has come now -”
“Unbelievable,” Paul mutters. “Horror turned into a soap.”
***
“Quit touching me!”
“I’m not touching you!”
“Someone is -”
“Well, it isn’t me!”
“…don’t you even dare go near that!”
“Like I would even want to touch it!”
Ryan’s voice from across the room quiets the argument. “Looks like you all are staying the night, then?”
“And we all leave in the morning?” Wes asks. “What would that look like in the papers…”
“Headline: Manchester United Team Orgy at Co-Skipper’s Home.”
“Or,” Ryan quips, “Kind Hearted Ryan Giggs Lets Teammates Spend Night at Home during Storm.”
“Kind hearted?” Michael snorts.
“I know,” Darren giggles. “and Lets Teammates.” The Scot continues to giggle, “and Spend Night.”
“You’re lucky I can’t see you.”
***
“Hey, Ronnie,” Wayne says, “While you’re getting that blanket, want to grab two pillows for me?”
“No.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Paul, get your fucking feet out of my face. It smells.”
“It’s not my feet you smell.”
Horrified, “Oh god.”
“Move over, will you? I barely have any room, I’m pressed against the wall,” Rio complains.
“I can’t move, either,” Nemanja groans. “Someone is laying on my arm.”
“Everyone!” Rio exclaims, “Roll over to the left!”
Everyone does as they are told, and Wayne, who doesn’t realize he’s only a few centimeters from a small step rolls onto the hallway just when Cristiano is making his way back into the living room. “I got your pil -”
“Oi!”
Wayne can feel the Portuguese’s hot breath against his cheek, before an angry accusation. “You trip me on purpose!”
“I didn’t! I just -”
“I almost hurt my leg,” he continues. “Almost as bad of story as your ankle injury!”
“Hey Ronnie...”
“What?”
“Thanks for the pillow - and oh, the blanket. Greatly appreciated, mate. You’re a real pal.”
A growl, then without a warning, he smacks Wayne’s chest, and tries to get up from his position, but the striker holds his arms steady, not allowing him to move. “Say you are sorry.”
“I am sorry -”
“Good.”
“I am sorry I didn’t hit you harder.” The Portuguese throws his head back in laughter, bringing it forward again without warning - colliding with his mate. “Ow! You head butt me!”
“No, I didn’t! It was -”
“No! You head butt me,” he is adamant in his accusation.
“Would you quit yelling?” Wayne sighs, “The rest of the lads are trying to sleep.”
“I don’t yell.”
“Yes, yes you are.”
“THIS IS CRISTIANO YELLING. LA LA LA LA.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Gary exclaims. “Can you lot ever be quiet?”
“Nope.”
“Well you should try it sometime!”
“Try dope?”
“Rio. Sod off.”
There’s silence for exactly three seconds.
“When I wake up -”
“Wonderful!”
“- I want some toast and orange juice -”
“And maybe some scrambled eggs, and sausages!”
“Speaking of food,” Darren interrupts, “I’m hungry.”
“You know? I am too. The bloody host didn’t even feed us.”
“Sorry mate, all I have are animal crackers and apple juice.”
“Well,” Nemanja says, excitedly. “What are you waiting for?!”
***
Three hours later, “What time is it?”
“Somewhere between shut up Mikey and get your own damn watch.”
“Hmph. Someone’s cranky.”
“Probably because we gave him the elephant instead of the tiger.”
“I specifically asked for the tiger, you twat.”
“And what does it matter if you got the elephant anyways? You have something against them?”
“Yes, they remind me of you.”
“I hope you’re happy. You just broke my heart.”
“I didn’t even know you had a heart.”
“BECAUSE YOU WENT OFF AND BROKE IT!”
“Cease the yelling. My poor ears.”
Alan interrupts, “Someone tell a story.”
“Once upon a time, there was a handsome boy. Then his heart was broken in two. He cries. The end.”
Silence.
“That was the worst story I have ever heard.”
“You know, it kind of sounds familiar,” Darren says.
***
“I don’t understand why Ryan gets to sleep in his nice bed, and we have to sleep on the ground.”
“Because this is his house.”
“So?”
“So, my ass.”
“Let me get a thread and a needle.”
Nemanja leans over and whispers to Owen, “I enjoy these arguments.”
The only two not included in the arguments are Cristiano and Wayne, although the former is still upset about the supposed head butt. Wayne turns his head, and rests it on the winger’s shoulder (or so he thinks). “I like your scar.”
“What the fuck, Wazza?”
“Oh,” Wayne mutters, and he can hear someone snort behind him. “My bad, Wes,” then turning his head, “I like your scar. It’s not a lightning bolt, but you can’t have everything now can you?”
“I’m not talking to you.”
“You just did.” No reply, and Wayne sighs. “If I say I’m sorry, will you forgive me?”
“Maybe.” The striker can almost see the smile on the winger’s face. “Only if it’s good and sincere. And you tell me a joke.”
“Good, because I have one. What has a whole bunch of little balls and screws old ladies?”
“I don’t know. What?”
And from across the room, Paul yells, “GARY NEVILLE, OF COURSE!”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, Rio. I wasn’t aiming for you,” Gary apologizes.
***
“I’m glad that it seems to have quieted down.”
“Wait until you hear the symphony,” Paul grins.
“What symp-” Gary asks, “Fuck. Who was that? Vida?”
“Sure. But if it wasn’t, he’ll have his turn.”
“Fuck, it smells like shite.”
“What did you expect? Roses and daisies?”
***
It was the fifth of December, and all through the house, not a United player was stirring not even Darren Fletcher. That is until the co-skipper exclaims, “WAYNE! WAYNNEEEE! YOUR DOG JUST PISSED ON MY BED.”
FIN.
rating: pg-13
pairings: a few implied, but nothing yet. we'll see.
author's note: it's been a long time, no? hopefully you are all still interested in this. this is for tasteslikeboys who wanted an update. ♥
six
got giggs? it does the body good. gotgiggs wrote on December 4th, 2007
everyone. my house. now!
imsofly commented:
why?
leggomyeggo commented:
no, thanks.
theboywhoscored commented:
is this a joke?
gingerspice replied:
if this were a joke, gary's name would be in there somewhere.
gazfather replied:
yeah? okay, here's one. why did the chicken cross the road?
gingerspice replied:
because gary neville was beside him.
rockinthecurls replied:
ROTFL
imsofly replied:
i got one. what do you get when you mix an egg and a barrel?
gingerspice replied:
gary neville.
rockinthecurls replied:
*facepalm*
dafletch replied:
*lipbalm*
rockinthecurls replied:
O________O
gotgiggs replied:
WOULD YOU ALL STOP SPAMMING MY ENTRY AND JUST GET OVER HERE?
***
One hour later, Rio barges into Ryan's house followed by the rest of the squad. "This better be important, Giggsy," he mutters, splaying himself on the nearest couch. The co-captain looks around, making sure everyone was there, and frowns when he doesn’t see one particular person.
“Where is Wayne?”
“Outside,” Ronnie replies, with a roll of his eyes. “She won’t come in.”
“She?”
“Bella,” Ronnie answers exasperated. “She don’t like your house.”
Ryan knows the name sounded familiar, but he still isn’t sure who it is. Until of course, he hears the distinct scouse accent from outside. “Please Bella, please go inside. The rest of the lads are inside. We need to go in there.” Nemanja tilts his head to look out the window, and grins. “Bella, don’t make me carry you in there. I mean it, young lady.” A low growl in response. “Are you growling at me? Please, Bella. I’ll even let you bite Wes’ pants, like you use to.”
“Fuck,” the defender frowns. “Vida. Sit in front of me, will you?”
***
“Now that we’re all settled in,” (Wayne smiles shyly, and then stares sternly at his dog who was eyeing Wes) “I have been in charge of this year‘s Secret Santa,” (a round of groans) “Now if you can fill this out for me, it would be fan-freaking-tastic.” He holds out the stack of papers to Paul, who gapes at it, and raises his eyebrows. “Pass it around.”
“Here, Gaz,” Paul says, throwing the papers in his direction. “Ryan wants you to pass it around.”
***
“What do you want for Christmas?” Michael whispers to himself, tapping a pencil gently on his cheek. “What do you want for Christmas…”
“Your mother.”
“What?”
“Your mother.”
“What the hell?”
“Rio taught it to me the other day,” Nemanja grins.
Michael looks across at Rio who is stifling giggles, hiding his face behind his paper.
***
“Bella, come back here! Come back here, right now!” The little dog runs up the stairs, and Wayne sits at the bottom of the staircase, hoping the dog will peek around the corner and listen to his orders. Bella does return, but only to bark, then run off into a room, which the striker only hopes isn’t Ryan’s room. He runs upstairs, and slowly enters the room, and immediately hopes he doesn’t come across anything even remotely - “God, Giggsy.” A pair of underwear hanging off the bed.
Walking past the room is Rio Ferdinand, who double takes and mutters, “What the fuck are you doing in there?”
“Bella.”
A laugh, “You know, that is illegal in most places.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rio, and just help me!”
“It’s not that difficult to track a dog, you wanker,” Rio exclaims, “Look, there she is already - oh, and look what a lovely present she left too. On Giggsy’s favourite jumper, is it? He’s going to love it.” He snorts and pats Wayne on the back, before tracking back towards the staircase. “It matches the colour, don’t you think?”
“Shit.”
***
“- what I want for Christmas is for Gary to dress up as an elf and -”
“Well, you don’t have to dress up - you already look it!”
“At least I don’t sound like one.” The midfielder smiles. “And why are you reading through them all? I thought this was a secret.”
“Why? This is why,” Gary shakes the paper in front of the other man. “You’re a bad little man. You’re going to get coal.”
“As long as it isn’t the other Cole, I think I’ll survive.”
***
As the night continues, the rain outside becomes unbearable. “I saw this in a movie, once,” Nemanja tells the group. “People are all at friend’s house, and then -” All of a sudden the lights go off. “Yes, this is exactly what happens.”
“WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!” Rio screams. “Vida said so!”
“I didn’t -”
“Calm down. Jesus. It’s just a black out.”
“And then, we’ll die.” Paul snickers. “Because once the lights turn on,” he continues in his low, drawling voice. “There will be a man - wearing a black coat, his head down -” The group listens to every word he says, “And he will slowly look up, and he’ll be someone we know but never expected.”
“It’s Carlos! It’s always the new boy,” Wes chimes.
“Que?”
“Quit scaring them,” Gary sighs, making his way to the center of the room, before hitting the coffee table and swearing out loud. “FUCK. THAT HURT.”
“And,” Paul continues, “The killing begins.”
“I want to go home,” Ronnie says, somewhere to the right. “I do not like Ryan’s house.” He feels something touch his butt, a slight touch. “Not now, Wayne. I am scared.”
“What the hell are you on about over there?” Wayne replies. “I’m no where near you.”
“Then who is …”
An evil laugh sends Cristiano and Darren scattering left to right, and right to left - before they both fall on the floor, on top of someone’s leg. “I am still recovering from my injury, you know. I don’t need another setback!”
There’s a flash of light, blinding everyone. And another laugh. (The light coming from the very place where Cristiano was standing). And just like Paul had described, a man in a black coat appears to reveal….
“I can’t watch this - I can’t watch this,” Rio screams in a high pitched voice.
“You act like you lot don’t recognize me.” A familiar voice. “Now, this is what I call an entrance.”
“Smudge, you fucking wanker!”
“Do not believe his lies,” Darren squeaks. “It’s all part of his plan. Now he’s going to go after the good-looking one. Goodbye fair mates, it has been a pleasure but my time has come now -”
“Unbelievable,” Paul mutters. “Horror turned into a soap.”
***
“Quit touching me!”
“I’m not touching you!”
“Someone is -”
“Well, it isn’t me!”
“…don’t you even dare go near that!”
“Like I would even want to touch it!”
Ryan’s voice from across the room quiets the argument. “Looks like you all are staying the night, then?”
“And we all leave in the morning?” Wes asks. “What would that look like in the papers…”
“Headline: Manchester United Team Orgy at Co-Skipper’s Home.”
“Or,” Ryan quips, “Kind Hearted Ryan Giggs Lets Teammates Spend Night at Home during Storm.”
“Kind hearted?” Michael snorts.
“I know,” Darren giggles. “and Lets Teammates.” The Scot continues to giggle, “and Spend Night.”
“You’re lucky I can’t see you.”
***
“Hey, Ronnie,” Wayne says, “While you’re getting that blanket, want to grab two pillows for me?”
“No.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Paul, get your fucking feet out of my face. It smells.”
“It’s not my feet you smell.”
Horrified, “Oh god.”
“Move over, will you? I barely have any room, I’m pressed against the wall,” Rio complains.
“I can’t move, either,” Nemanja groans. “Someone is laying on my arm.”
“Everyone!” Rio exclaims, “Roll over to the left!”
Everyone does as they are told, and Wayne, who doesn’t realize he’s only a few centimeters from a small step rolls onto the hallway just when Cristiano is making his way back into the living room. “I got your pil -”
“Oi!”
Wayne can feel the Portuguese’s hot breath against his cheek, before an angry accusation. “You trip me on purpose!”
“I didn’t! I just -”
“I almost hurt my leg,” he continues. “Almost as bad of story as your ankle injury!”
“Hey Ronnie...”
“What?”
“Thanks for the pillow - and oh, the blanket. Greatly appreciated, mate. You’re a real pal.”
A growl, then without a warning, he smacks Wayne’s chest, and tries to get up from his position, but the striker holds his arms steady, not allowing him to move. “Say you are sorry.”
“I am sorry -”
“Good.”
“I am sorry I didn’t hit you harder.” The Portuguese throws his head back in laughter, bringing it forward again without warning - colliding with his mate. “Ow! You head butt me!”
“No, I didn’t! It was -”
“No! You head butt me,” he is adamant in his accusation.
“Would you quit yelling?” Wayne sighs, “The rest of the lads are trying to sleep.”
“I don’t yell.”
“Yes, yes you are.”
“THIS IS CRISTIANO YELLING. LA LA LA LA.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Gary exclaims. “Can you lot ever be quiet?”
“Nope.”
“Well you should try it sometime!”
“Try dope?”
“Rio. Sod off.”
There’s silence for exactly three seconds.
“When I wake up -”
“Wonderful!”
“- I want some toast and orange juice -”
“And maybe some scrambled eggs, and sausages!”
“Speaking of food,” Darren interrupts, “I’m hungry.”
“You know? I am too. The bloody host didn’t even feed us.”
“Sorry mate, all I have are animal crackers and apple juice.”
“Well,” Nemanja says, excitedly. “What are you waiting for?!”
***
Three hours later, “What time is it?”
“Somewhere between shut up Mikey and get your own damn watch.”
“Hmph. Someone’s cranky.”
“Probably because we gave him the elephant instead of the tiger.”
“I specifically asked for the tiger, you twat.”
“And what does it matter if you got the elephant anyways? You have something against them?”
“Yes, they remind me of you.”
“I hope you’re happy. You just broke my heart.”
“I didn’t even know you had a heart.”
“BECAUSE YOU WENT OFF AND BROKE IT!”
“Cease the yelling. My poor ears.”
Alan interrupts, “Someone tell a story.”
“Once upon a time, there was a handsome boy. Then his heart was broken in two. He cries. The end.”
Silence.
“That was the worst story I have ever heard.”
“You know, it kind of sounds familiar,” Darren says.
***
“I don’t understand why Ryan gets to sleep in his nice bed, and we have to sleep on the ground.”
“Because this is his house.”
“So?”
“So, my ass.”
“Let me get a thread and a needle.”
Nemanja leans over and whispers to Owen, “I enjoy these arguments.”
The only two not included in the arguments are Cristiano and Wayne, although the former is still upset about the supposed head butt. Wayne turns his head, and rests it on the winger’s shoulder (or so he thinks). “I like your scar.”
“What the fuck, Wazza?”
“Oh,” Wayne mutters, and he can hear someone snort behind him. “My bad, Wes,” then turning his head, “I like your scar. It’s not a lightning bolt, but you can’t have everything now can you?”
“I’m not talking to you.”
“You just did.” No reply, and Wayne sighs. “If I say I’m sorry, will you forgive me?”
“Maybe.” The striker can almost see the smile on the winger’s face. “Only if it’s good and sincere. And you tell me a joke.”
“Good, because I have one. What has a whole bunch of little balls and screws old ladies?”
“I don’t know. What?”
And from across the room, Paul yells, “GARY NEVILLE, OF COURSE!”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, Rio. I wasn’t aiming for you,” Gary apologizes.
***
“I’m glad that it seems to have quieted down.”
“Wait until you hear the symphony,” Paul grins.
“What symp-” Gary asks, “Fuck. Who was that? Vida?”
“Sure. But if it wasn’t, he’ll have his turn.”
“Fuck, it smells like shite.”
“What did you expect? Roses and daisies?”
***
It was the fifth of December, and all through the house, not a United player was stirring not even Darren Fletcher. That is until the co-skipper exclaims, “WAYNE! WAYNNEEEE! YOUR DOG JUST PISSED ON MY BED.”
FIN.