My Fic for fslashexchange

[tempered-rose.livejournal.com]

Title: In The End It’s Right
Characters/Pairing: Michael Owen/Steven Gerrard; mentions of past Steven/Xabi Alonso, Steven/Jamie Carragher, Michael/Jamie
Rating: R
Warnings: angst
Disclaimer: not mine, never will be :(
Word Count: 4,829
Author's Note: This fic was based on this song because I thought it fit very well. I hope you enjoy it :-) I’m very pleased with this one. :-D

Michael was leaning back into the pillows with the sheet draped across the lower half of his body. One of his legs was sticking out, otherwise he would have gotten too hot, and one of his hands was behind his head so that he wouldn’t be uncomfortably resting against the headboard. The other arm was draped half on the skin of his belly and half on top of the sheet. He was comfortable in the quiet and he allowed his mind to think.


He didn’t necessarily like thinking, especially not about things like this, but he did tonight. After all, he had had a plan for the evening but that had all gone down the hole as soon as he had run into Steven in the City Centre. What had been intended as a quiet night roaming about town with his brother had suddenly become something much, much different. It was like those evenings in the summer when he was a little boy and he was playing football with the other neighborhood lads and how that was seemingly going to be the plan until it became too dark to see, but then his mum had to come get him to take him to visit his Gran in hospital cause she had fallen ill. It seemed that no matter what the original plan was, something could come along to disrupt it so easily. And there was a lot of time in a day for something to come up.

He had been with Terry, teasing him about his brother’s need to visit a Starbucks, when he had seen Steven walking out of said Starbucks. He would have cracked a joke, but Terry had spotted him and he asked if he wanted to just go somewhere else. He had considered it, but in the end something had made him continue forward. Steven had been a little wary of talking to him in such a public place. Michael could that much from the expression on his face. Terry had gone inside to place his order and that had given the two footballers a chance to talk in some form of privacy for a few minutes.

Michael had known things about Steven while he was gone. Thanks to the England squad being a bunch of gossips, and the fact he still maintained contact—a few phone calls every once and again—with Jamie, he had known that Steven had moved on from what had been their little relationship. Michael had expected him to have done that. He had done the very same thing, Steven was no exception. That didn’t stop him from feeling something almost like a little spark of jealousy in his gut at the thought of Steven being happy with somebody else. He quelled it immediately.

Conversation was kept short, brusque even. As Michael stood there watching Steven answer as easily as he could play football, he felt the awkwardness so much in himself he wondered if Steven knew just how bad it was inside his head at that moment. On the outside, they were nothing more than old friends catching up on years long since passed. But on the inside Michael knew that there was so much more to say, so much more to ask, than “how have you been? How is your family? Sorry about those injuries of yours, mate, that must have been awful for you.” There were other questions that needed to be asked, conversations that needed to had, closure that needed to be given. But that wasn’t quite right, either. So much time had passed. Things had been covered over till the hurt was gone, or at least buried so far down that it didn’t really matter so much anymore. Time healed all wounds, didn’t it?

Terry was coming back and Michael knew that this moment with Steven was going to end soon. He found himself not wanting to let go just yet. He realized that no matter how much he wanted to spend time with Steven, Steven may not want to be in his company. Michael wasn’t going to ask if he wanted to hang out sometime; he wasn’t going to offer that branch from the olive tree. What if Steven smashed it underneath his foot? That was a risk he was not prepared to take. But then Terry asked if he wanted to join them for the evening as the shop they were headed to was just around the corner. Steven hesitated for a moment, looking at him from the corner of his eye, and then to Michael’s great surprise, smiled politely and agreed to the invitation. Plans and certainty, huh? He asked himself as he followed after his brother and his, very much so, past lover.

It was a book shop that they went to. Terry had wanted to go and Michael, having been bored out of his skull with nothing to do, had agreed to take him simply to shut him up about it. Their mum had given him a nod of thanks as they had left; Michael had made a face behind his brother’s back, causing her to smile, as he shut the door behind them. Steven had never really been into books, Michael remembered, but something must have changed. He watched from behind a shelf as Steven moved through the shelves, occasionally picking up one and reading the back before he put it back down and moved down a little bit more to repeat the process.

Michael allowed himself to study him from here, a safe distance. He was taller, or at least he seemed like it, and his face had lost that boyish look completely. He was now very much a man, a man that would not take any nonsense if he was not in the mood to do so. Michael absently wondered if that twinkle of mischief still occasionally wandered into his eyes. Steven now had an air of authority, and responsibility, about him that he seemingly didn’t have before. That, also, was to be expected, Michael reminded himself. He wondered what else he should have expected from the years of change that had passed between them. He wondered if he would have noticed those changes if he had stayed.

If he had only stayed… the words played back into his mind from a conversation Jamie told him about once. But that had been ages ago. Long enough for Michael to remember that he had been learning Spanish due to the time he was still in Madrid. Jamie had been telling him what Steven had told him earlier because Michael had asked does he even miss me at all?. Michael’s eyes closed as he replayed the memory, replayed Jamie’s words. He could hear Carra’s voice in his head telling him what Steven had wished for all those years ago. How much he had wanted Michael to stay; how much he had wanted him to be there for their wins and for their losses. How much he had simply wanted him. How much he had wanted, begged, pleaded to no one, to Jamie, to anyone that would listen but could do nothing about it, Michael Owen to stay at Liverpool. Michael felt a pang of guilt. He was glad that he had not been there, if only to have seen Steven’s face for that much sadness. He was glad he had escaped that, at least. And he felt guilty for how much he was glad.

Terry was the only one of the three that had bought anything. Michael was not surprised. His brother was carrying two bags’ worth of books as they left the shop. Steven kept his hands in his pockets, but he teased Terry for spending so much. Terry took it in a very good-natured stride. Michael was quiet. If he had been himself, if he had been there without Steven, he would have teased his brother as much as Steven was doing now, probably even more. As it was, though, he would not say anything. He did not want to look like a fool in front of Steven. He did not want to be so at ease around him; that would lead to something far more dangerous than looking like a fool. Terry was putting the shopping bags in the car, again leaving Steven and Michael to look awkwardly at one another in silence.

Michael wasn’t sure how it would end, only that it was about to. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. “See you round” wasn’t appropriate—the next time he would see Steven would most likely, plans and irony permitting, have been the United and Liverpool match. “Good luck” wasn’t quite right either. He did wish Steven luck, but now that he was a Manchester player, he couldn’t very well wish Liverpool success, could he? Not to mention with the way Liverpool’s season had been, that would have been as grating as saying ‘calm down’. “Goodbye” would have to do, he decided after a few seconds of thought.

Terry had the keys and moved around the car while Michael looked at Steven. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak but Steven finally jumped in to say something. His blue eyes looked straight into Michael’s as he said “goodbye”. There was such finality on that word that caused Michael to close his mouth. He could not speak, could not even say the same in reply. He simply nodded and turned to get in the car. His dismissal was apparent to no one but himself, as Steven had intended, and he let his brother drive him home. He did not look back to see if Steven had hung around long enough to watch them leave. He did not look back because looking back would have meant something.

He had come home after dropping Terry off, faked a headache to everyone else and only Terry could guess the truth. He knew that by morning Terry would have run his mouth and his entire family would have known about the hour or so spent with the Liverpool captain. Michael didn’t want to have to talk about Steven to anyone right now, and he really didn’t even want to think about him now. But that was going to be an impossibility. Life never lets you get away with not thinking about something you don’t want to think about. He came home and made himself comfortable on the sofa downstairs. He did not turn any lights on and he didn’t think about the rudeness of letting Louise stay at his mum’s house with the kids all night and he wasn’t there. Louise might have been a little put off by that, but he would smile sweetly and hope she forgave him for it. If that didn’t work, then he’d tell her he had developed a migraine. He knew his parents wouldn’t mind. Grandchildren were always welcome there, he thought with a hint of a smile.

The thoughts of his family distracted him for only a few moments before the real mire of his thoughts came back. He thought to a handful of moments in conversations that he had had with Jamie about Steven over the years since he had left. Through Jamie, the man that had been his very own first time with men, he had found out about Xabi. Michael had been able to guess at that; after all the hints were obvious to anyone that knew how to use Google Images. The way that they had discussed one another in interviews was a dead giveaway to Michael. He remembered their affair because he remembered how bitter and how jealous he had been. He had cursed Steven for moving on so quickly. He remembered how he felt like he had meant nothing to Steven at all. He remembered that he wanted to hate Steven, hate him for forgetting about him so easily and how he had greatly disliked himself for not being able to hate anyone or anything at all.

Jamie had calmed him down after he had told him about Steven and Xabi. He had told him to relax, breathe, and reminded him of all the years he and Steven had been together. He told him that Steven was just hurting and needed someone to take the edge of the pain away. Jamie had told him that Xabi meant next to nothing to him. Michael knew now that Jamie had lied then.

The lie had been discovered when Xabi had gone to Madrid, the same exit that he himself had done only a few years’ before. In another conversation a few months after the fact, Michael learned that now Steven had selected another Spaniard, Torres, to replace the hurt he felt. Jamie had not realized what he said, Michael guessed that he never had, but Michael had picked up on it quickly enough. Jamie had said that Steven had not been this torn up about anything since Mikey had gone. Michael knew then that Xabi had meant a whole lot to Steven after all; he had meant a great deal of something. And now he was gone too. Not for the first time, Michael felt guilty for having been glad that he had not been there to see how hurt Steven was by such actions.

For all intents and purposes, at least according to Jamie, Torres really had meant next to nothing to Steven. And the loss the Captain had felt towards him had been nothing more than losing a friend, but only a friend. That pain had not been the sharp cuts of glass at the thought of losing a lover that was not just simply a lover.

Michael sighed and looked up at the ceiling of his living room. There had been one more after Torres, one more lover that Steven had had that merited enough cause for Jamie to tell Michael about. That was the one that had stung the sharpest for reasons as similar as learning about Xabi to reasons that were completely irrational and different. Jamie himself.

Thinking about it now caused Michael to feel a sharp twist of something he couldn’t describe in his gut. Betrayal? Perhaps. Agony? Almost. Pain? Absolutely. Jamie had been the one that had opened his eyes to the pleasures that men could give one another. Michael had been the one to show Steven. For Jamie to have shown Steven so intimately now, now after years of knowing what had transpired between Michael and Steven, was completely hurtful and wrong somehow. Michael took a deep breath and felt the sharpness as he tried to release the pent up air. It was as if he couldn’t breathe properly. Jamie had told him out of courtesy, but Michael wondered now if it had been any of his business to begin with. Perhaps Jamie had been showing off a little, but that wouldn’t be quite right. That was not like Carra at all. No matter the why, Michael knew it was irrational for him to be upset about what had happened. He had no sort of claim on either of the Liverpool captains now. He had no sort of claim at all. He could not be upset for something that happened when he was not even remotely involved in the situation at all. When he had probably not even been thought about for months, if not longer. That did not stop him from feeling hurt by it, though, he knew. This was pain sure enough, but a pain he had no right to bear.

He had drifted off to sleep, he realized when, at the sound of the doorbell, he had had to pull himself out of a drowsy state. He rubbed his eyes and listened intently, wondering if he had imagined the noise or if it had actually happened. When it rang again, he groaned and pulled himself out of his comfortable position on the sofa. He stumbled through his house in the dark until he pulled open the door. To his great surprise, Steven was on the other side of it.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” He grumbled sleepily and ran a hand through his hair, uncaring that he did more damage than good. Steven simply raised an eyebrow.

“It’s only half eleven, old man.”

Michael shot him the quickest of glares on the last bit. Instead of retorting, though, he asked, “What do you want?”

“Anybody around…?” Steven asked, trying to peer inside.

Michael shook his head. “Not tonight they aren’t. What do you want, Steven?”

Steven looked at him for a few seconds before he shrugged a shoulder. “Not quite sure. I just didn’t want to see you in Liverpool at that minute.”

“Why?” Michael asked, letting him inside just the same.

“It was wrong somehow. You aren’t exactly welcome there these days…”

Steven did not need to continue. Michael was fully aware of that fact. He had been threatened in letters and various other media forms. He knew it was to be expected, but it still caused shivers to run down his spine when he thought of the things people said about where he had signed. But they did not understand the why he had become a United player. Did Steven?

“And you came to make sure I knew that, did you?” Michael asked moving through the hallway ahead of his newfound guest. He turned on lights as he went.

“I figured you’re not thick enough not to have noticed by now,” Steven replied shortly before he sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m here, okay?”

That caused Michael to raise his eyebrow. He turned around in the hallway and looked Steven over. That usual air of confidence the Liverpool Captain had about him wasn’t entirely there, but nor was it completely gone either. For the first time in years, Michael really noticed that Steven wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Michael felt a little better about himself for noticing that. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one unnerved by the night’s impromptu meeting.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, not to look stand-offish but because he felt a little bit more protected that way. He felt like he could handle whatever Steven came to say that way.

Steven sighed. “I wish I hadn’t seen you tonight is all.”

“Thanks for that.”

Steven shook his head, grimaced, and a concentrated look came over his face.

“I mean that it’s really easy to ignore you when you’re gone because hell, you’ve not been around in a really long time and things happen and I get busy. But to see you there, so close,” Steven shook his head. “It’s impossible to forget…everything…that happened.”

Michael looked at Steven and re-evaluated what he had seen a moment ago. Steven looked frustrated, but not at Michael, at himself. He looked lost somehow.

“I missed you.” Michael said and that seems like the only thing to say.

Steven looked up at that, the clouds in his eyes parted enough for him to see truth. “I’m not walking down this road with you again. I can’t.”

Michael nodded at Steven’s words because he understood. He wished he didn’t because that meant that he and Steven could give it another shot and maybe this time it would work again. Maybe. But the truth is a terrible thing and he knows it. It would never work, they were too different and too much time had passed between them.

Michael moved forward across the space that seperated them, though the real distance between them was much greater than a few steps in a room. He stopped in front of Steven and looked into his eyes.

“I don’t blame you for that. And I’m sorry for ever hurting you.”

He looks honestly into Steven’s eyes so that the younger man can see his sincerity. He did miss Steven more than he would have ever imagined, more than he had ever really missed anybody. But Steven wasn’t going to trust him again and he could not fault him that. If he was standing where Steven did, he wouldn’t trust himself either.

Steven nods once and makes to take a step back but Michael places his hand on Steven’s arm.

“Just a hug mate, that’s all I want.” Michael says softly and, after a moment of hesitation, Steven nods jerkily.

Michael moves closer and wraps his arms loosely around Steven’s body and leans in. He takes a breath but that proves to be a terribly large mistake when his senses are overtaken by the smell of Steven--his aftershave, his cologne, the natural smell of simply him--and he closes his eyes. He wants to remember this smell forever and the warmth of the body pressed against his. He lets out a relieved breath when Steven finally begins to hug him back.

Unlike so many of their hugs when they were lovers, this one wasn’t passionate or fevered in any way. They simply held to one another and hoped that things were different, that the times were different, and that maybe they were still young Liverpool players and everything that had happened was a dream that had never really happened. It was a nice sentiment, but they both knew that it wasn’t so. You could wish and hope for an eternity, but that would never make it real.

Steven was the one to pull back slightly, but Michael continued to hold on. He wasn’t ready to let go yet, but it seemed that Steven was. The Scouser gave him a final squeeze and tried to take a step back only to find his way blocked by a firm hold.

“Michael…I need to go.” He said very, very quietly.

“No you don’t.” Michael returned and swallowed hard.

Steven pulled back enough to look into Michael’s eyes and that’s when it changed again. The fog that clouded judgments changed and became denser than ever and that’s when Steven lowered his mouth to cover Michael’s.

The thought occurred to Michael somewhere between the downstairs hallway and his bedroom that he should probably stop this. Between the feverish kisses that they exchanged, he wondered if Steven would regret this if they continued. But his body wanted and that overtook the morality in his mind.

He touched Steven with firmer touches than he would have if they were younger. He wanted to hold him close and at the same time control everything, but Steven refused to give in. Steven challenged him for control of every kiss, of every touch, and Michael loved it. Steven made quick work of the preparations and somehow he won the upper hand, Michael realized when he groaned at the intrusion into his arse. That just would not do. He lifted his legs and wrapped them around Steven’s waist and held him closer. He kissed him hard and caused Steven to slow the pace he had set so that the thrusts were slow, leisurely. Michael wanted this moment to last, even if it was a mistake.

Steven’s hand wrapped around his cock was too much for him after a few minutes and he came, groaning and tightening around Steven. Michael’s eyes were closed but he could hear Steven’s own completion and he sank into the bed next to Michael’s body. Michael was silent until he could breathe normally and then, and only then, did he open his eyes. Steven had cleaned himself off with a tissue and was leaning over the bed to throw it away. Michael swallowed and sat up a little, pulling the covers across his body so that he didn’t feel as exposed. He wondered what Steven was going to say and how fast he was going to run away. Michael leaned backwards into the pillows and waited for Steven’s mouth to open and for that mistake to be confirmed. When he leaned back into bed, Steven turned his head to look over. There was a weariness in his eyes that Michael had expected to see.

“I’ll be back.” Steven said and slowly got out of bed.

Michael watched him cross the room towards the bathroom and sighed. It appeared that everything really had been a mistake, but Steven wouldn’t say as much now. He was going to make him wait for that. He shifted in bed so that his leg was out of the sheet and sighed. He heard water running in the bathroom and he closed his eyes. He felt drowsy and this feeling continued until he heard the door open. He could play Steven’s game, he thought. He didn’t open his eyes immediately.

“Michael?” Steven asked and Michael heard the footsteps on the carpet. He let out a slow breath and raised his head from the pillow to look at the younger man.

“Michael, I don’t think this was such a good idea.” Steven started. “I mean I shouldn’t have come and we shouldn’t have—well. I’m sorry.”

He stayed quiet and waited for Steven to continue. He wasn’t going to help him in his apologies. Steven rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Too many things have changed, you know. We’ve grown up to become different people. If you had stayed—” Steven stumbled through his thoughts and he shook his head when he couldn’t find what he wanted to say. Michael let out his breath and finally decided to speak.

“If I had stayed then it would’ve been different, we would have been together most likely, and we might have lived happily ever after once we retired. That about right?”

Steven looked over with a trace of guilt on his face. Michael took a moment to study him and then he realized it wasn’t guilt at all. It was sadness.

“Something like that.”

Michael nodded and he suddenly wished he was wearing more clothes than just his bedsheet.

“I’m sorry Michael. I shouldn’t have come.” Steven apologized and started to gather his clothes.

Michael watched as Steven redressed in silence. He couldn’t speak because he had nothing to say. So many times he himself had wondered ‘what if I had stayed, what if, what if’ but never did any of the scenarios ever come to be. He knew that leaving would mean the end of some things and the start of others. At the time that’s what he had wanted. But he also had thought Steven would understand. It looked like he didn’t.

“Goodbye Steven.” Michael said when the last button of Steven’s shirt had been done. He did not say it rudely, nor did he say it cheerfully. He said it in a resigned manner. He was resigned to the truth as he had been this entire time. He sighed a little to himself.

Steven nodded and left the bedroom. Michael listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway and then he waited a few minutes more until he heard his front door shut. He let out a long breath and sighed. He stayed numb for a few minutes and was afraid to think of anything. He was afraid that if he thought about how much he was missing Steven now that he would run off after him. That would just be embarrassing. He was afraid that if he thought about how he would feel tomorrow when he woke up and fully realized what had just happened that he would feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Maybe it would be better this way, he thought after a moment. Steven had been right. Their paths had gone in two different directions and maybe it was always meant to be this way. Steven had been loyal to Liverpool and always had been, he couldn’t say the same about himself. He was not made to be a one-club man, he sighed. Maybe all this travelling and all the team changes were how it was all supposed to be. Maybe not having Steven anymore was how it was supposed to go. It hurt, a lot, but he knew that things happened—or didn’t happen—for a reason.

Michael sighed and made himself comfortable in bed and closed his eyes. He let out a long breath and settled under the sheet. He may not have been a perfect player, he may have had many injuries, and he may have become a Judas to Liverpool Football Club’s faithful, but that was all right. It was his life and it had turned out the way it was supposed to be. That’s what he thought, and that’s what he would believe. The fact that Steven wasn’t in his life anymore was terribly, terribly unfortunate, but that’s how it was supposed to be.

Michael fell asleep thinking that that would be his new motto and, starting in the morning, he was going to live life as fully as he could. This love he had held for Steven for so long would end tomorrow. That would be the right thing to do.