Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In his entire month of coaching here, Ted Lasso had come up with worse ideas. Not that anyone could tell Roy thought that by looking at his face. He could feel the tension in his own eyebrows, every wrinkle in the middle where they pushed inward to the space above his nose, and the stiffness in his clenched jaw compressing his teeth together. A quiet moment passed after Richmond’s new coach stopped talking. He stood in the center of the dressing room wearing a pleasant smile and waiting for the reaction of the men surrounding him at their cubbies. They stared with stunned expressions, a confused sea of blue and red paused in the act of gearing up like someone had shouted at them to freeze. Roy felt his eyes roll as the room exploded with noise and whiney voices started to clamour over each other. To his credit, Ted’s moustache didn’t so much as twitch even as McAdoo and Hughes jumped up on the benches. Roy remained seated and focused on lacing up his boots with a grunt as the angry tide of voices washed over him.

Ted had a point that the team were mostly a bunch of strangers. Cartrick, when he had been here, couldn’t be bothered to fuss about with roommate assignments during away games and had left it up to the players themselves. And so, the lads had formed their two-man cliques and never looked back which suited Roy just fine. He hadn’t been interested in changing the status quo when he arrived from Chelsea and he wasn’t interested now.

But looking on as an American stood in the center of the dressing room wearing a pleasant smile like he genuinely appreciated all the vitriol being thrown, Roy was forced to concede that the status quo had been shot and buried. The yelling came to a natural lull after a moment and Isaac pounced on the opportunity.

“You can’t be messing with our pre-game rituals, Coach,” he said. There was a grumble of assent followed by a momentary silence as everyone nodded and gestured to Isaac. Some of the lads started to resume changing, probably thinking in their little brains that the matter was settled now that Isaac spoke up.

“I hear y’all I really do,” Ted said, “but in the general interest of team spirit, fellas, I gotta insist. And Saturdays game- uh, match I mean against Wolverhampton is the opportune time to really band together.”

There were more grumbles, the loudest from Tartt from where he was lounging against his cubby fully dressed in his Richmond gear. “You’re absolutely barkin’, mate.”

Ted carried on, looking up at the two players standing on the benches. “Now, Isaac and Colin, I know you two are basically peas in a pod, but there's lots of room in those things so let’s expand a little. Isaac, Sam, I think you two would gel real well together and Colin and Declan, what better way to put your disagreements about Drake to bed than sharing a room!?”

Roy rolled his eyes as that got a laugh out of the team. God, some of them were even laughing with Lasso instead of at him. Even Hughes and Cockburn though they had the decency to look sheepish. As Ted continued through the new roommate assignments, Roy decided he wouldn’t mind a change of pace from Dixon’s inane golfing chatter and placed his hands on his knees in a more actively listening posture. If he had to hear about the man’s triumph over Reynolds one more time, Roy would chuck his prized clubs right into the Thames. He didn’t have long to feel cautiously optimistic though because a terrible feeling settled on him when Ted paired up Goodman with Bumbercatch.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jamie interjected, “me and Jeff have a good thing goin’. We don’t need to mess it up.”

The entire team voiced their support. Tartt had cycled through a few of them in the early days of his loan before landing with Goodman and no one had made the same mistake twice. Apparently Tartt was militant about his beauty sleep and if he couldn’t get shut eye than no one could. Roy had heard the younger man chewing Canterbury out for breathing too loudly and costing them the match a few months ago. Prick pre-Madonna.

“I have no doubt about that, Jamie, but this here is the book we’re reading.”

“What’re you on about? Ain’t reading no book.”

Ted smiled at him. “We all need to get on the same page, here.”

Goodman piped up and cemented Roy’s belief in angels. “It’s fine, Coach, I’m happy to be Jamie’s roommate.”

“Oh, I appreciate you, Jeff,” Ted said and then turned his head to look directly at Roy. That was when a familiar pressure started to build in his head. "But no, our captain here will now take up that honour.”

“Fuck no!” Roy jumped to his feet the same time as Tartt did with a similar protest. “There’s no fucking way I’m rooming with this fucking prick.” He jabbed his finger at Tartt for good measure.

“Now Roy—"

“Fuck off Ted,” Jamie said in a tone dripping with venom. “Not happening.”

The coach offered them a placating nod that leaned toward condescending in Roy’s opinion. He crossed his arms and scowled at Ted, trying to control his breathing and doing his best to not let the open stares of the team ramp up his blood pressure. This was absolutely the worst idea Lasso had ever come up with. Bar none. Who did he think he was? Wanting him to share a room with Jamie Tartt?

“Get someone else,” Roy growled.

Ted opened his mouth to say something but just then Coach Beard made his way through the ring of players and stood at his shoulder. “Alright fellas, everyone who isn’t Roy or Jamie, head onto the pitch. We still have training to get to.”

“Even me, Coach?” Ted asked.

Beard smirked at him and twirled his finger in the air. “Let’s go!”

The boys followed him out all muttering incredulously amongst themselves and once their footsteps faded from hearing the dressing room was left silent. Roy locked eyes with Jamie and glared. The younger man’s arms were curled under his shirt and his posture was just as rigid as Roy’s.

“Phew-ee, you can cut the tension in here with a knife,” Ted said, earning the two men’s attention. “Which you know, is part of the problem Coach Beard and I are trying to solve. We think this could be the start of a new chapter for you guys. And who knows, maybe by Sunday you two will be like peanut butter and jelly. Or even better, cookies and cream or—"

“Not bloody likely,” Roy interrupted before Ted could gain steam. “I won’t be going to prison for murdering this prick, not gonna happen.”

“Yeah, you wish,” Jamie scoffed, “Can’t you see how apocalyptic he’s being, Coach? Going to pop a blood vessel over there. Neither of us will make it till’ Sunday.”

“Now, I think you two just need to give each other a chance and you might be surprised.”

Roy glowered. “The only one that’ll be surprised will be you when you’re charged with accessory for murder cause I sure as shit won’t be going down alone. And then we can share the same fucking cell and we won’t ever see the light of fucking day again.”

“Roy,” Ted said sharply. The corner of his eyes lost their crinkle and his next words were void of his customary warmth. “You’re the captain here. Now I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but this is your team and that includes Jamie. You’re his captain too. We’re in your house. And it needs some work, don’t it? You know what we need from you and all I’m asking is for you to put aside your differences for one night a month.”

Roy glanced away and almost asked, oh is that all? But he could feel Ted’s words sinking themselves into his skin like a chill. The coach’s eyes held disappointment that awoke the shame taking a nap in Roy’s gut. He was the captain. Been a shit one for years now and he knew it. Ever since he left Chelsea the title had felt hollow, and he had let it stay that way. It wasn’t enough for Lasso though. He just kept shining a light where Roy wanted to keep his eyes shut, he wanted him to be better. Ted’s gaze was more piercing than Roy had ever seen, making him feel chastised in a way not many people could claim to do. He was Roy Kent. And Ted, he seemed to care very much about that fact. Roy tried to pretend that meant nothing to him.

“We have two away games this month,” Roy mumbled.

“What was that?”

Roy looked back at Ted and flooded his tone with annoyance. “We have two away games this month.”

A budding smile started to form on Ted’s lips just as Jamie made a disgusted noise. “What the fuck?”

If Ted heard Jamie, he gave no indication. Just stared down Roy with that infuriating smile of his which blossomed at the captain’s next question.

“It has to be me?”

“It has to be you.”

“Um, fuckin what?” Jamie’s voice was indignant as he gaped at Roy. “You’re going along with this? Just going to jump when he says how high?”

Roy stared at the idiot.

“Fucking Christ,” he swore and took a deep breath through his nose before turning on his heel and storming out toward the pitch, leaving behind Jamie complaining to Ted until his lilting brogue faded from hearing. Each pounding footstep rattled his clenched teeth in his skull until he reached the grass outside. The further he got from Ted the more the coach’s spell seemed to loosen it’s hold. When Ted was speaking the words hadn’t seemed so outlandish, reasonable even. But now in the light of day with the weak sun struggling through the clouds, Roy couldn’t believe what he just tacitly agreed to. Maybe he wasn’t such a shit gaffer after all.

On a good day Roy never had to interact with the prick. Did his utmost to distance himself from the vicinity of arrogance that slimed off him. Tartt had strutted around Richmond from the start acting like he was better than everyone else, like he was God’s gift to football. The fact that he had the talent to back it up was that much more infuriating. Had the gall to ignore his teammates on the pitch like they didn’t exist and then start talking shit about everyone and their mum. Wound everyone up in the dressing room like he was some kind of toxicity conductor. And then doing it all with Keeley fucking Jones on his arm. The fucking prick. At least now, she had come to her senses and broke up with him even if it had taken far too long. He didn’t deserve Keeley. And now she didn’t have to be dragged down by the prick.

Not Roy though.

No, he had to share a fucking room with Jamie fucking Tartt tomorrow because Ted fucking Lasso could play Roy like a fucking fiddle.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

-

By the next afternoon Roy’s mood hadn’t improved and as he pulled his Mercedes into his parking spot at Nelson Road, resignation settled over him like a heavy mantle. He pulled the keys from the ignition and straightened his back, taking a moment to stare out the windshield. Specks of drizzle were peppering the glass and out on the pitch fog hovered like a shroud. The car park was mostly empty, Beard’s car was there as well as a couple of the lads, Colin’s Lambo bright as ever. And there was Tartt’s Aston Martin next to it.

A grunt punctuated the quiet.

Roy grabbed his duffle bag slumped in the passenger seat and stepped out into the mist. A brisk walk brought him to the waiting bus and he threw his bag in the luggage compartment before heading to the door with his shoulders back and chin high. He climbed the stairs like he was headed to the gallows and then glared straight down the bus. Tartt was holding court at the back, having a group of the lads laughing like he was Will fucking Ferrell. His gaze immediately slid Roy’s way, and the grin dropped from his face. It didn’t take even a second for him to recover though and none of the lads noticed the blip because they carried on laughing. Colin and Declan were even clapping each other on the arms which Roy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at. Seemed like Ted’s plan was starting to work already. It was nauseating.

Roy planted himself right behind the driver, as far away from the pricks as he could. Folding his arms in front of his chest he turned a glower to Zoreaux who was making his way onto the bus. The Canadian startled before hustling down the row. He glared at each and every man to board the bus, especially Lasso who greeted him with a chipper, “Captain!” and meaningful look. Roy scoffed once he retreated but turned his head to look out the window instead. Right, he was the captain here. Couldn’t go and terrorize his team even if they deserved it. A long growl escaped him without his notice which effectively created a bubble of space between him and the rest of the lads since no one dared take the seats surrounding him.

Soon enough the Greyhounds filled the bus, and then they were off into the dark evening. Once they hit the motorway, Roy decided that he was bored with staring out the window and withdrew his phone from his pocket. Pictures of Phoebe always cheered him, so he scrolled through his phone gallery until the scowl on his lips softened into his customary frown. It didn’t take long to reappear however because it was within minutes that they hit traffic bad enough to prompt a detour. He wasn’t the only one swearing by the time they reached the hotel two hours later than they should have. Once the bus rolled to a stop, Roy was the first one up and stood in the aisle blocking the exit.

“Oi, you lot! The second we are in that lobby, we’re stretching out our legs. Fucking bus ride from hell. Then its pizza, no movie night, that shit is cancelled. And then get to your rooms and it’s straight to sleep. Lasso’s new roommate assignments stand and if I find out any of you fuckwits stays up past ten, I start punching dicks. We’re going to fucking kill ‘em tomorrow!”

The boys cheered and followed Roy off the bus. Claiming their luggage, receiving their room keys from Nate, and grabbing a bite was a quick affair and all too soon Roy was walking down the corridor to the room with Tartt dragging his feet behind him. The beep of the keycard on the door was loud against the silence that had stretched between them since the elevator. Jamie breezed by him as soon as the door was open, his black puffer vest whispering against the doorway as he shoved his way past.

“Fucking watch it,” Roy snapped, flicking on the entry way lights and watching Jamie as he sat on the far bed with his back to him, digging into his designer bag.

As far as hotels went it wasn’t the worst. The room was spacious enough to comfortably house the two beds and a lounge area entirely occupied by a small settee and television. Mint green curtains that clashed terribly with the paisley wallpaper were half closed and blocked out most of the light from the streetlamp outside. It was well removed from his top ten for the dated wallpaper alone Roy mused as he set down his bag and found the thermostat on the wall. It was a grey brick with a line dial dotted with numbers small enough he had to squint at to get the meter to slot under the right temperature. The light from the entry way was not enough to see by and he swore under his breath.

“Turn the fucking lights on, would you?” He growled.

From the other side of the room perched on the far bed, Jamie didn’t even look up from his buzzing phone. The white light washed his scowling face out and carved out dark shadows under his eyes that made him look like a different person. There was a weary slump to his back despite his knee bouncing a mile a minute and a gloom to his eyes that looked out of place enough that Roy hesitated. But then Jamie blinked and the illusion vanished.

“You’re closer, granddad,” he scoffed in a voice that sounded as tired as he had looked just a moment ago.

Roy didn’t fucking care. The prick could sort out whatever row he was having with his rebound from Keeley or whatever he was doing in his own time. They were losing sleep thanks to that godawful motorway incident and now the room was too warm and this god forsaken thermostat that was older than Jamie probably, would take ages to kick in.

“Fucking- you were the first one in, you prick.”

Jamie’s side of the room was silent except for the incessant buzzing of his phone and each vibration ramped up Roy’s temper. Barely a minute inside and he was ready to toss the younger man out by his stupid hair. Then Ted’s stupid face popped up in his mind’s eye and prompted him to glare more intensely at the stupid thermostat.

Jamie uttered a loud sigh. “Relax, lad, you sound like a great big bear. All grunty and shit.” He popped to his feet and sauntered to the entry way, flicking on the light before disappearing into the bathroom with his bag.

Well, that was unexpected. Roy frowned and finished with the thermostat now that he could see it properly. He could hear the shower start and took the opportunity to change into his soft, dark grey plaid pajama trousers and then cursed when a loud buzzing startled him.

“Bloody annoying”, he muttered, side eying Tartt’s vibrating mobile on the wood nightstand. As he settled into bed with the book Ted gave him, he cursed whoever was texting Tartt like a maniac. He hoped whoever it was choked on their own fucking spit. By the time Jamie re-emerged with a cloud of sweet-smelling steam at his back, Roy was engrossed in the pages and hadn’t realized that his curse must have worked because the lad’s phone had fallen silent. He should have known his peace wouldn’t last.

The light from the entryway went dark before Jamie passed by and his obnoxious voice disturbed the silence. “Reading a book before bed, old man?”

Roy looked up through his eyebrows, twitched and then asked, “Are you going to put on some fucking trousers?”

Jamie was plugging his phone into a charger clad in a white T-shirt and incandescent blue boxer briefs. Instead of answering right away, he chose to frown at his phone, scrolling down only briefly before tossing it aside.

“Oi, I’m being polite here. Usually sleep bottoms off. And Keeley told me they bring out me eyes.”

His brown hair was damp and tousled from the shower, falling in a gentle wave across his forehead above eyes that were indeed a clear blue. Piercing in this light to be sure and Roy decided that he was done with this conversation. He snapped the book shut and strode into the humid bathroom, fully bracing for a disaster but stopped short. Not a single drop of water could be felt on the white tile floor and the wall-to-wall mirror was crystal clear despite the cloying heat from the shower. He could almost believe Jamie was never there if not for the neatly arranged bottles of product and toothbrush lined up next to the right most sink. There was a crisp scent that invaded his senses. It reminded Roy of the beach but with woodsy undertones as well as a hint of jasmine. As much as Roy had to say about him, he supposed the man did smell good. He took up residence at the other sink, brushed his teeth and was back in his bed with book in hand in record time. He just had a few more pages left of the chapter but before he could start reading, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck.

“This is weird,” Jamie said when Roy looked over to meet his gaze.

Tartt was seated in bed, mint coloured blanket thankfully covering his legs and a heavy scowl on his face. They glared at each other from their beds. Light from the side tables at opposite ends of room threw their mutual displeasure into sharp relief.

Predictably, Jamie broke the silence first. “How long you plan to have that light on then?”

“Listen here, Tartt, I won’t be tolerating what ever bitch fit you give to the lads. You wanna be a sleep terrorist or whatever the fuck, there’s the door.”

“It's, um, called sleep hygiene, mate, look it up.”

“Not your mate.”

“You were the one who said go straight to sleep.”

Roy breathed in. He couldn’t have Pheobe come visit him in prison, he couldn’t.

“On the bus, was you who said that,” Jamie insisted.

Roy breathed out. “Oh, now you want to listen to me, then?”

“Whatever,” Jamie said, “someone’s gonna need their sleep if they want to be top form to score goals tomorrow. And it’s not gonna be you, you get me?”

“You really fucking think that, do you?”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ do?”

Roy couldn’t deal with Jamie’s shit right now and dug deep for patience. “I need a goddamned minute to unwind if that’s okay with you.”

Jamie did a double take before grumbling under his breath. Roy could barely hear him when he said, “Fuckin fine, have your minute.”

He gaped at Jamie. “I was being sarcastic,” Roy yelled.

A haughty smirk grew on Tartt’s lips. “Sure, you were.”

Roy imagined going over there and punching the smile right off him as Jamie turned off his light and placed his silent phone on the nightstand. Deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble of getting out of bed, he snapped open his book again while grumbling out a curse. Roy could see from the corner of his eye that Jamie remained seated and sensing that he was being looked at, Roy growled and focused harder on his book. When the seconds passed by and that being watched feeling remained, he looked at Jamie to level him with an annoyed stare only to find the younger man contemplating him with round blue eyes. The light from Roy’s bedside table was soft on the planes of Jamie’s face and exposed the forlorn cast of his features. He looked alarmingly young to Roy in that moment.

Jamie jolted at being discovered and the wide-eyed look fell off his face to be replaced with a sneer. If Roy could see in the dark, he would have noticed the pink creeping up on the tips of Jamie’s ears as he reached for something on his nightstand.

“D'you snore?” Tartt asked. He held two earplugs he was about to plant in his ears.

“No,” Roy lied.

“Thank fuck.” Jamie put the earplugs back on his nightstand. “Hate these things.”

Roy was going to ask why he even had them in the first place but then he lost interest before the question could even form in his brain. He returned to his book.

“Only wear ‘em if its loud in the room. Jeff snores, like.”

Roy smirked. Jeff’s snoring wasn’t nearly as loud as his own.

“G’night, then,” Jamie voice called out and Roy was so thrown by the fact Jamie fucking Tartt felt the need to say goodnight before he went to sleep like a baby child that the fuck you he had locked and loaded on his tongue misfired into a grunt. There it was again, that unguarded guileless look in the lad’s face that had no business being there. Roy gritted his teeth. “…Night.”

Jamie flopped down with his back to Roy but not before he thought he caught a smile tugging on Jamie’s lips. Roy shook his head, must have been a trick of the light.

Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked.

-

Jamie felt off his axis. Not four feet behind him was Roy Kent in his pajamas reading a book. He was sharing a hotel room with the Chelsea legend, Roy Kent. Him, Jamie from a council estate in North Manchester was sleeping in the same room, on the same team as Roy Fucking Kent. Roy Kent just wished him goodnight.

Little Jamie’s brains would have exploded onto the ceiling had he known he’d ever be having a sleepover with his idol. Now though, he didn’t quite know what to think. Their entire relationship had been contentious from the beginning. He had been so excited to meet his childhood hero and teenage crush when he got to Richmond only to find that the Roy Kent he had grown up watching was now a bitter old man who walked around like he was owed thanks for breathing in the same vicinity as anybody else. Richmond’s captain had dismissed him immediately when they met, barely spoke to him and given him such a scornful look that was worse than a slap to the face. Perfect tinder for the anger and resentment in him to catch fire.

The embers were still there. They had sort of made amends at that awful charity gala a few days ago and Roy even joined him when Jamie toasted to the other man’s death. After Jamie had explained what his problem was with the other man, he had acknowledged it.

That had been mint.

The smile that Jamie hadn’t realized formed on his lips just then fell when he remembered what happened after when Keeley dumped him. Not so mint, that. Jamie sighed, looking straight ahead at the wall. He followed the designs with his eyes, after a while deciding that the pattern was growing on him and wondered if Keeley would like it too. The sound of a page turning had Jamie’s thoughts turning back to Roy and he had half a mind to ask what the captain was playing at. Why on earth had he folded like a cheap suit the second Lasso pressed? Tentative truce aside, Roy still hated his guts. He surely didn’t buy into the American’s spiel about putting aside differences and being Jamie’s captain. Yet here they both were, Roy reading his book like nothing was out of the ordinary and Jamie on the brink of an existential crisis. Lasso was plotting something. He thought he was so smart, being all nice and shit. And whatever his ploy, Roy was in on it. Jamie just couldn’t it see yet. Fucking mind games.

He could turn over right now, he thought, call Roy old and get on his nerves about turning off the light. Goad him into telling Jamie what was in this for him. Bait him into more familiar, hostile ground. It wouldn’t end well he knew and while that normally wouldn’t be a remote concern, he didn’t think he had the energy to be ridiculed more tonight. The mobile on his nightstand drew his eyes and he didn’t have to open it to see the slew of texts his dad had been sending him all night.

[“Dad”] Such a little bitch Jamie

[“Dad”] Ducking pussy

[“Dad”] Fucking pussy… no good ugly piece of shit

[“Dad”] The Wolves are gonna kill u tomoro cuz your a no talent joke

It went on and on, flashing behind his eyes like a never-ending reel. The only good part was that he was at Richmond now. Didn’t have to worry about his dad coming around to his place after a drunken tirade like tonight. Only now, better half of a year gone and Jamie still was expecting the other shoe to drop. Texts, calls, then a visit. That’s how it had been at home. Everywhere he went it felt like his dad was waiting right around the corner even though he was four hours away. It drove Jamie mad.

The sound of a page rustling behind him brought him back to the present and his frown pulled ever downward. He didn’t know what Roy’s next move would be. His go-to’s were yelling until his veins were popping, destroying nearby property, or getting in Jamie’s face and shoving. He’d get angry. And Jamie knew anger- knew how to deal with it and how to take it, and how to use it. Knew exactly which buttons to press to get Roy flying off the handle and coming after him in a rage. It was almost like a game. Jamie kept pushing, waiting to see where Roy would draw the line and start throwing fists. The most he’d been able to inspire was a headbutt, but even then, it had been Colin on the receiving end, not him. By now Jamie had poked and poked and poked. Ran his mouth like he never would dare with his dad and as much as Roy liked to shove around his weight, he’d never taken it farther than that. Roy could go on about how he was going to end up in prison for murdering Jamie, but he didn’t have it in him.

It was all in the eyes.

That moment when something shifted and darkened behind the pupils. Pure hatred pinned directly on him in a way that made his stomach drop to the floor and skin break out in a cold sweat. He knew if someone’s eyes could turn like that and strike him with a bone deep instinct that they desired real cruelty. And Roy’s couldn’t. Whenever Jamie had encouraged a fit of rage, there would be that blazing fury that made him brace for a punch, sure. But never filled Jamie with the terror of knowing he needed to run and run fast or he might not see tomorrow.

It was just never there. Instead, Jamie would sometimes spot guilt in the man’s eyes. Right after he’d get Roy to shove him. It always got extinguished the very next second but it did Jamie’s head in every time he saw it. Because his dad was almost never felt guilty. Whenever he did something really bad, he would show up later with a gift to make himself feel better. Jamie still had the Optimus Prime transformer from the time his dad choked him until he almost passed out. He couldn’t even remember why he’d gotten the tickets to Man City v Chelsea, just woke up in the hospital with the nurses telling him he’d been mugged. That had been a class match though. Roy had scored a beauty of a goal in injury time, the same Roy who suddenly scoffed loudly from the other bed, breaking Jamie’s attention from visualizing the then Chelsea captain nutmegging Mann, then Bhandari, putting the ball over Jacob’s head, before spinning round Smith and rocketing it into the net.

“The fuck? Mental, just mental…”

Roy started muttering under his breath and Jamie caught several more fucks which made him smirk. Jamie had seen him read while on the bike at work but thought it must have been a way to pass the time, but the man seemed wholly invested. Since Roy couldn’t see him, Jamie let the small smile on his face become wider and listened to him loudly read his book. His own breathing started to come slower.

“What a little menace,” Roy said under his breath.

This was not what Jamie had been bracing for when Lasso changed up the roommate assignments. He had been dreading this moment all day, knowing he would never be able to relax with someone unfamiliar only a few feet away. Even at Manchester, he hated away games for the single reason he could never fall asleep. Every movement or sound in an unfamiliar place set off Jamie’s fight or flight especially if he was rooming with someone he didn’t know. Before Jeff was saddled with him, he’d barely be able to sleep a wink with any of the other Greyhounds. Not only had they been noisy but most of them had pre match energy that set Jamie on edge, forcing him to sleep with one eye open out of outright distrust or because they snored too loud. Jeff at least was a mellow lad, unassuming enough to put Jamie at ease even though he snored. Which turned out to be a double-edged sword because when Jamie slept, he’d almost always have nightmares. And while he’d been dreadfully embarrassed when Jeff asked him about it once, the other man had been a good sport. But if Roy Kent witnessed him blubber about in his sleep like a little baby, Jamie would just about pass away. The thought caused a shudder to ripple down the back of his neck. It was one of the reasons he had been expecting that Roy of all people would trigger his insomnia without even trying. That and the fact that they clashed like oil and water.

But Roy wasn’t spoiling for a fight at all. Even though his presence was like a physical thing in the room, it was calm and reminded Jamie of lounging in bed with Keeley next to him or being in his bedroom at his Mum’s place with his poster on the wall. He’d had a matching poster at his dad’s place, and while it had been a comfort it wasn’t like he ever felt safe in that room. Jamie frowned as his stream of consciousness stuttered. Not that he felt safe now, with the real-life version of his poster between him and the door. No, that was ridiculous. He was just tired, and the strangeness of the situation was getting to him. Fucking Lasso and his mind games.

“There’s no way that’s where the chapter ends, c’mon,” Roy hissed.

Jamie was amused out of his spiralling as Roy went on in a whisper about just reading one more chapter. As his voice petered out, Jamie realized that he was more tired than he expected he’d be. It was cozy under the blankets and his lids were getting heavier by the second. He let them fall closed and wondered what his mummy would have to say about this.

Jamie let himself drift toward sleep while his childhood hero kept reading in the next bed over and if he fell asleep with a grin on his face, well, he was the only one to know.

-

Now that Jamie had turned over, Roy could finally get back to his book. He was halfway done the whole thing and unashamedly invested by now. After only a few pages a soft snore made him look up. Roy turned his head and looked dubiously at Jamie, half wondering if it was a pointed tactic to get him to turn off the light. He narrowed his eyes at movement. Jamie’s feet were shifting beneath the covers in a jittery pattern, but his back was rising and falling slowly. It was only another barely audible snore that convinced him that Jamie really had fallen asleep.

Roy was confused. He had been working himself up preparing for Tartt being a terrible roommate on account of everyone complaining about him. But there Jamie was, already fast asleep before they even had to spend twenty conscious minutes together. Sudden movement from Jamie made Roy jump, thinking he was caught glaring, but he’d only flipped onto his back and struck a muscular calf out of the covers, still sleeping. His foot was pointing and flexing, rotating more now that it was unconstrained. Roy found himself fascinated despite himself. Should have figured Tartt couldn’t even stay still in his sleep. His face was lax and breathing deep enough to emit the occasional snore, but both his legs were in motion and out of sync with each other. Roy watched in disbelief as Jamie turned on his right, then his left, and did that twice more before settling on his back again, one leg at least falling motionless while the other foot settled into a more sedate rhythm having found its way back under the blanket. Roy shook his head.

It was then that a car honked from outside, close enough to startle him and since he was already looking at Jamie, caught when the lad’s eyes flew open. Roy felt his eyebrows draw downward. If he couldn’t plainly see whites of Jamie's eyes, he wouldn’t have believed the lad was awake. His breathing stayed deep, chest still rising and falling in the same way it had when he was sleeping but Jamie had gone completely motionless like he was some kind of secret agent from a spy film. A pit formed in Roy’s stomach as he watched Jamie execute a controlled blink, rigid in his stillness. He couldn’t put his finger on why he was bothered but he was. It was odd. It was the same feeling he had on the pitch when a teammate didn’t get up from a tackle right away, that something was wrong. Fuck if he knew why he was experiencing it now.

After a moment Jamie shut his eyes again and Roy couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not until his feet started moving beneath the blanket, rubbing together like he was a cricket. Roy shook his head once more and resolved to put Jamie and his weird sleeping habits out of his head. He went back to his book, telling himself he’d read until the end of the chapter and then it was lights out for him. Then, about two chapters later a creak sounded above, so quiet that Roy wasn’t sure if he wasn’t just hearing things, so he glanced at Jamie and sure enough even though his eyes were closed his body lay unnaturally still, making Roy suspect he was actually awake and faking being asleep. The sight brought back that uneasy feeling that didn’t ebb even when Jamie’s fingers started to wiggle in what Roy deduced to be real sleep.

Roy attempted to get rid of it by finishing out the chapter and was half successful by the time he put the book down on his nightstand and turned off his bedside lamp. A sigh escaped him as he rested his head on the pillow, closing his eyes and discovering that he felt quite sleepy actually. There was a steady electronic hum from something that Roy found calming which combined with the quiet pressing into the room, lulled him straight off to sleep.

It was a few hours later however that Roy startled awake with a broken off snore. He squinted into the darkness mildly disoriented at having had the notion that he heard something. Listening hard for a few moments, he found nothing obviously out of place, so he closed his eyes again and was nearly back under when a strange noise broke the silence almost too quiet to hear. He stopped breathing for a moment to listen and then a pained shout from the other bed made him jump out of his skin.

He grunted in surprise, quickly sitting up to flick on the light about to demand what was wrong before promptly snapping his mouth shut with his heart pounding loudly in his temples. Tartt was faced toward him on his side so Roy could see his eyes screwed tightly closed. A crease so heavy it looked painful was carving through his brow and his mouth was twisted in a grimace, breathing in short gasps of air through his nose. He was having a nightmare, and the realization froze Roy where he was, watching as Tartt curled into himself, knees pulled to his chest and arms clutching at his shoulders as a quiet whine escaped through his lips. Roy felt the terror in Jamie’s voice shoot him right in the gut and only realized he moved when his feet hit carpet. The plush material under his toes shocked him into stillness again.

What was he doing?

He didn’t even like Jamie. And he knew the younger man would hate Roy seeing him like this. Knew that he would be embarrassed himself if the roles were reversed but he couldn’t look away. Roy felt stuck there, seated at the edge of his bed watching Richmond’s striker have a nightmare a few feet away. Tartt’s hand started twitching, mildly at first but quick to grow into a spasm right before low moans started to emit from his throat. An ache bloomed on both sides of Roy’s jaw, and he realized he must have been clenching it since he woke up. Roy slowly pried his teeth apart. If this was Phoebe, then he’d have been over there in a heartbeat. Usually, his presence and a hand on her head was enough to get her to settle down but this was Jamie Tartt, Price Prick of all Pricks. And he wasn’t about to soothe a grown man like a six-year-old girl. As if to spite him, Jamie flinched onto his back and began craning his head back into the pillow as tiny cry rent its way out of his mouth sounding even more frightened than before.

“Fuck it.”

He rose and strode over to Jamie’s bed, nearly tripping in his haste. Up close he could see the sheen of sweat on the younger man’s brow as he shook his head on the pillow. Roy stooped and placed a gentle hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He was trembling.

“Hey, Tartt, s’ok,” he said softly, hoping that Jamie would stay sleeping and calm down. He didn’t want to have to deal with Jamie waking up and biting his head off since that would be embarrassing for them both. Roy frowned when Jamie’s eyes remained tightly shut and the hitching gasps of air he was heaving in started to become frantic. In the dim light Roy could see tears start to leak out the corner of his eyes.

“What the fuck”, Roy said, alarmed. “Tartt, hey.” Roy shook his shoulder a little harder, but to no effect. Jamie curled onto his side again and reached up to grasp the pillow right beside his face.

“Sorry, m’ sorry,” Jamie gasped in a wan voice Roy didn’t recognize. “No, wait, wait, just wait—" He broke off with a choked off yelp, pushing his forehead into his fist.

Any remaining wariness at being caught vanished and Roy shook Jamie’s shoulder again, this time with urgency. “Jamie!” His hand was thrown off instantly as Jamie flinched hard at the contact, jerking his back up against the headboard with a thud and cradling his head in his arms like Roy was going to hit him.

He snatched his hand back. “Shit, fuck! Sorry. You alright?”

Jamie jumped again and gingerly looked out from behind his arms. Vacant grey eyes stared at him between wet lashes and Roy felt his heart plummet to his feet. It didn’t look like Jamie was seeing him at all, the light behind his eyes gone somewhere else. Memories from his partying days washed over him like a bucket of ice water.

“Did you take something?” Roy demanded, alarm making his voice loud. Anger surged and he almost knocked Jamie’s bedside lamp off the nightstand reaching to flick it on. Jamie recoiled as light flooded the space and he blinked rapidly. Roy leaned in, judging the size of his pupils and relaxing only slightly. They appeared normal, wet but not glazed over, only it didn’t look like Jamie was even seeing him.

“Roy Kent?” His voice was small, barely more than a breath. So unlike him that Roy’s anger dissolved and left his mind blank. Jamie blinked heavily, the emptiness behind his eyes replaced with bewilderment before slipping shut.

“Why’d you cut your hair?” he asked in a voice laden with sleep as his chin drifted down to his chest.

“What?”

Jamie’s eyes dragged open, and they had lost that hollow look which eased some of the tension in Roy’s shoulders and made him second guess his knee jerk suspicion that Jamie had taken something. He was squinting at Roy.

“Your hair. It’s short. Wha’happened to it?”

“I…”

Roy found himself speechless. He hadn’t had long hair in years and searched his brain for why on earth Jamie would bring that up now of all times and frowned. Jamie’s words at the charity gala came back to him. The lad had told him he’d had Roy’s Chelsea poster hanging on his wall when he was a boy which was just as unsettling now as when he first heard it. Relief came out in a long exhale. Jamie hadn’t taken anything. He was just still half asleep after a nightmare. Phoebe got the same way, only without the scary empty eyes.

The longer Roy couldn’t think of anything to say, Jamie’s attention started to wander. He felt like he had whiplash as he watched Jamie slump back down, eyes darting around but never leaving him for long before falling shut again. When his head found the pillow his breathing started to slow, only to inhale a sharp gasp at the sudden ticking noise behind the wall. It was followed by the air hissing out of the vents as the fan came whirring to life, but Jamie didn’t seem to register that as the source. He sat up, flinches racking along his frame as he wildly scanned the room and the fear in his half-lidded gaze stole Roy’s breath away.

This time when Roy moved, he didn’t even think about it. He sat on the bed next to Jamie’s hip, holding his arms up when the movement startled the younger man. “It’s just the fan. You were having a nightmare, Tartt. Everything is alright.”

It took a moment for Jamie to move his arms from their raised defensive position but eventually he lowered them into his lap, curling his fingers into the blanket and leaning back against the headboard. They stared at each other, Jamie struggling to keep his eyes open and Roy unblinking- Roy could see the exact moment the nightmare left his eyes before a slow smile warmed them. Roy felt his eyebrows furrow together. It was like he had woken up into an alternate dimension from one of those sci-fi shows his sister adored. In the entire history of them knowing each other he had only ever known Tartt to smile like that at Keeley Jones. Smirks and mocking grins were more his style, not genuine smiles that held unmistakeable affection Roy was unequipped to handle.

“What?”

“Roy Kent”, he mumbled.

“Stop saying my name like that. Go to back to sleep.”

And to prove that this night truly had departed from his own reality, Tartt #09 listened to him. He slid down until his head found the pillow and lashes fell closed, casting shadows onto his cheeks.

“‘Kay. But I don’t like peas.”

“What?”

“Don’t like ‘em. Nasty green mush.”

“…Okay.”

“Hey, Roy?”

Roy waited but never found out what the lad was going to say because when Jamie’s mouth dropped open, he started snoring.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Roy sighed.

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Roy waited, sitting next to Tartt for longer than he’d ever admit. He felt like a creep, but the lad had been so scared that something in Roy railed against moving away so soon. A few minutes later he was proven right to rely on his instincts because as he was massaging his closed eyes Roy felt the bed jolt. The blue glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand was enough to see the drawn tension on Jamie’s face and where he was gripping the blanket in a tight fist near where Roy was seated. The muscles on his forearm were hard with tension as Jamie clenched his fist and Roy reached out to settle his hand over his tattoos, finding Jamie’s skin warm under his palm. Roy held Jamie’s tense arm in a gentle grip and started murmuring what he would to Phoebe. “Hey, it’s alright, just a bad- oh.”

Roy trailed off as he felt Jamie relax. His fist unfurled and Roy watched the lad’s face turn toward him and even out. His gazed flicked over Jamie’s closed eyes to his nose, over his cheekbones and down to the cupid’s bow of his lips then back to the serene set of his brow. Something warm shifted in his chest then as an inhale stuttered through Jamie’s nose before ending in an unhurried sigh and Roy found that he had to look away from the peace that had settled over the other man’s face, feeling a little like he had caught him naked.

After a few moments, when no more signs of distress revealed themselves, Roy padded back to his own bed and hurtled under the sheets. This had been a terrible idea. Of all the things he had expected when Lasso changed the roommate assignments, this hadn’t been anywhere near the register. The whole night had been one surprise after the next. He went over it in his head, staring at the wall. Light from the clock allowed him to see the garish paisley wallpaper and his eyes flicked over the abstract whorls as he thought. First was Jamie turning on the light after Roy had asked, then leaving bathroom spotless after his shower, which was more he could say of most other teammates from Roy’s career. Not too strange there. But then Tartt wishing him goodnight like a baby child, how he’d wake up at the smallest noise and pretend he was still sleeping, that was odd enough to start alarm bells in his head. And to top it off, having a nightmare bad enough to wake Roy from sleep. He turned on his back and closed his eyes, unable to stop frowning.

But the worst thing that unsettled him was how Tartt had acted like a stray dog about to be kicked. It didn’t sit right with Roy. He was unable to stop seeing the lad flinch at nothing while barely even awake. Then, watching the fear leave his eyes and being offered a gentle smile made Roy question everything he thought he knew about Tartt. No where in that expression had Roy recognized the arrogant and aggressive prick he’d come to know over these past several months. Roy never second guessed himself. Just wasn’t something he did and trying to merge the two versions was giving him a throbbing headache.

Questions pinged around in Roy’s head. Was there more to him under the surface? Did it mean anything that Jamie had calmed out of the beginnings of another nightmare the second Roy placed a hand on his arm? Since when did he have blue eyes?

No.

The lad was a prick through and through. Roy wouldn’t let his heartstring be plucked by Jamie Fucking Tartt and he refused to lose any more sleep over it. But as the minutes ticked by, he had to acknowledge that the alarms in his head couldn’t be unrung. Something was up with Jamie Tartt and Roy fell asleep unsure if he could let it go.

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned grey. Hazy clouds blocked out the sun and there was a late February chill in the air, but Jamie was in a great mood. Not only had he slept better than he had all week, but he hadn’t had any nightmares. It had been decidedly odd waking up and realizing that. Roy had been his usual grumpy self, dead quiet in the morning apparently, but hadn’t mentioned if he’d noticed that Jamie had a nightmare or not. He definitely would have taken the piss if he had so when the only thing Roy said to him this morning was to shut up when Jamie was explaining the importance of skin care, he had been overwhelmed with relief. He grinned along with Isaac as Colin chattered at them across the table in the hotel Café. Some of the team were scattered at the other tables but most were still sleeping.

“It’s just, what do you say to that then?” Colin asked around an aggressive bite of his breakfast sandwich. Jamie opened his mouth, but the Welshman carried on before he could get a word in. “There’s no coming back from it. Lasso can’t make me room with such an uncultured swine and that’s that.”

“Bruv, Lasso made Roy Kent room with his arch enemy,” Issac said, “Roy Kent.” His eyes were grave.

Jamie smirked around the straw of his vanilla iced coffee. “Yeah, Roy wishes he were relevant enough to be my arch enemy.” He glanced at the man in question where he was chatting in low tones with Goodman.

That got a laugh out of them and Colin leaned in. “Well, how was it, then? Roy not try to strangle you in your sleep?”

Jamie barked a laugh to cover the way his nose wrinkled at the vivid childhood memory that sprang into his mind. “Nah, was actually, I dunno, fine I guess.” Jamie picked up his iced coffee again and took a generous sip. “Just read his book, past curfew, mind. Didn’t chat or nothin’. You know how old folk are.”

“Wait, he stayed up past ten?” Isaac asked. His face was scrunched up. “He told us we had to go to bed.” Jamie shrugged while Isaac curled his hands into fists on the table.

“That ain’t fair. Can’t be one rule for him and one—"

“Oh, oh,” Colin cut in, “Here he comes, boyo.”

“Don’t fuckin rat me out, McAdoo,” Jamie warned.

“That’s why they film so many things in Cardiff,” Colin said loudly, “Oh, morning, Roy. How are you doing, man?”

Their captain loomed over the table with his chin up and grunted. His face was arranged in a frown and arms stationed out from his sides, striking a commanding figure. Jamie noted that both Isaac and Colin sat up straighter under Roy’s angry eyes and made it a point to slouch further into his seat.

“How you boys feeling about today?”

Jamie felt his eyebrows climb toward his hair line. Roy had never once checked in with them before a match. He glanced across at Colin to find him equally shocked.

“Uh,” Isaac said, “Yeah, good, Captain. Went to bed at ten. Like you said, innit.”

Roy nodded and then locked eyes with Jamie in a way that made his stomach do a somersault. He looked furious, his gaze pinning Jamie down like he was under a microscope. Fighting hard not to preen under Roy’s full attention, he took a long pull of his iced coffee until he reached the ice at the bottom.

“What’d you say to Jeff?”

Roy immediately crossed his arms. “Excuse me?”

“What’d you say to Jeff? Looks like you kicked his puppy or summat.”

Jamie inclined his head to Goodman who sat slumped across the Café with his tea cupped in both hands.

“I was checking in with him about the match. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

“Mate, settle down with this whole being a captain stick. Ain’t fooling no one.”

Roy blinked slowly under descending eyebrows. “Not your fuckin’ mate. And its schtick,” he said.

Jamie made a face. “What?”

“It’s not stick, it’s schtick.”

“The fuck is a schtick?”

“I don’t fucking know, that’s the—"

Jamie brought his drink up and sucked some ice water through the straw, the slurping sound loud enough to cut Roy off. A vein started throbbing on the captain’s left temple. He abruptly looked at a wilting Colin and opened his mouth to speak only to grit his teeth when Jamie sucked on his iced coffee some more.

“How’s your head, Hughes?”

Colin glanced at Jamie who took the moment of hesitation to shake his cup, rattling the ice at the bottom. “…Oh fine, yeah, right as rain.”

Jamie pursed his lips around the straw as Roy opened his mouth, staring at Jamie while the obnoxious sound of slurping joined his intake of breath. For a moment, it looked like he was going to bat the glass out of Jamie’s hand but in a move that surprised all four of them, he turned on his heel and walked away. Jamie winked at Isaac and Colin who were blowing out relieved breaths of air.

“Can’t believe he let you get away with that shit,” Isaac said as soon as Roy was out of earshot. Neither could Jamie and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face which dropped at Issac’s next words. “Not kidding. That was rude, bruv.”

“Ain’t serious, Isaac. Relax,” Jamie said.

“He’s looking out for us, being a good captain, innit?”

“Oh, don’t tell me Lasso’s mind games got you too?”

“I dunno. Might be on to something. I mean, he’s got Roy steppin’ up and me and Sam thought up a new team cheer, so you know, maybe shaking up the roommate sitch wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Colin shook his head. “Ah that’s where you’ve lost me.”

Isaac inclined his head to Jamie. “Before yesterday, Roy would have tossed your ass out for disrespectin’ him like that.”

Jamie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Isaac and Colin were supposed to be laughing with him not turning against him. He could feel his mouth screw into an ugly sneer.

“He can’t hear you, Isaac. No need to kiss his arse from here, not like he fuckin’ gives a shit about some tosser from fucking Richmond who can’t defend the box to save his own life, eh? Such fucking twats, both of you.” He stood up and snatched his black and yellow bomber jacket from the back of the chair and stormed away, ignoring Colin’s indignant protest. He made it out the Café and into the hotel lobby when he heard it. Jamie stopped in his tracks, his Pumas squealing on the black tile and dread hitting his gut like a punch as his phone started buzzing in his jacket pocket. He looked around the lobby, at the front desk with a bored middle-aged receptionist picking at her nails and then at the couple chatting by the elevators. Jamie veered toward the main doors, standing just to the side of a planter with spiky leaves and crimson flowers taller than he was. After a second look to confirm he was out of earshot, Jamie pulled out his phone and glared at the screen. His dad was calling him.

-

Heat from Roy’s tea prickled at his upper lip as he took a pull from the disposable cup, eyes ahead and staring at the source of his dilemma. Jamie Tartt was sat with Isaac and Colin at the other end of the café, laughing at something the Welshman was going on about like he hadn’t had a nightmare and scared Roy half to death last night. He supposed it was a good thing. He’d braced himself for an embarrassing talk this morning, but Jamie had given no indication that he even remembered he had a nightmare let alone spoke with Roy in the middle of the night. In the morning light, he looked like the Jamie Tartt that Roy was accustomed to seeing. He was sprawled in his seat like he owned the place, arms spread wide across the back of his and Isaac’s chair wearing a crooked grin that had the waitress giving him heart eyes from the bar.

Roy’s gaze was drawn to her as she approached the three men with a tray balanced in one arm, carrying some beverages. The herbal tea had to be Colin’s and a smoothie for Isaac while the tall glass of what looked like a sugary iced coffee judging from the butterscotch colour must be for Tartt. She sailed up to their table, coming from behind Isaac and Jamie who had their attention still held hostage by Colin. Roy watched as her sudden appearance caused a stir in Jamie, he snatched his arms back to his sides while his grin froze in place causing Roy to frown. He could see Jamie’s eyes flare wide from where he was watching but it happened so fast that he could think he imagined it. Then the younger man affected a charming expression, smoothing out his flinch into reaching for the drink the waitress was passing to him. He looked relaxed but his back was a little too straight for the posture he was trying to project, and his smile an imitation of the one that had just been on his face. Roy hadn’t realized just how expressive Jamie’s face could be when it wasn’t arranged in that slimy smirk of his.

That strange feeling from last night made a reappearance in the light of day, prickling down his neck and making a home there. It made Roy uneasy. He studied Jamie without blinking, watching him wink at the waitress and settle back into his conversation with Isaac and Colin who didn’t look like they noticed anything.

It wasn’t just that Tartt was easily spooked. The nightmare last night, the naked fear in his eyes when he woke from it, and before that how whenever he had been startled awake he pretended to carry on sleeping like James fucking Bond- there was more behind it than what Roy was seeing on the surface. His fingers started drumming on the table in an agitated rhythm as he tried to put together the pieces.

Movement caught Roy’s eye as Goodman wandered in and he found himself straightening in his seat. That was it. He hung out with Jamie the most and more importantly had bunked with him most often. Roy would maybe be able to find out if there was something going on with the striker. Or see if Goodman got strange vibes from Jamie’s behaviour as well. Roy sipped from his tea and planned his approach while watching Jeff lope to one of the tables at the edge of the Café. The thought of coming right out and asking about Tartt straight away made Roy want to break out in hives so he searched his brain for a way to ask without making it seem like he cared. He stopped tapping on the table as an idea came to him, quickly followed by a surge of guilt that almost instantly morphed into anger. Back at Chelsea, he used to check on his lads before matches all the time. Used to check on them after and between matches too, made sure every man was sound and did his best to help when they weren’t. Some might have called it overbearing but it was part of what had made him a good captain there. Then he started having trouble keeping up and he locked that part of himself away before he ever came to Richmond. A captain was supposed to lead his team, teach them and inspire them. To stop rejecting the influence he had and lead something he could be proud of. Should want to end his career with a bang instead of a pathetic whimper.

There was nothing for it then. He was Roy Kent. He could figure out if he needed to worry about his striker and be a good captain to the rest of the team at the same time. And if Lasso even so much as gave him a self-satisfied smile he’d just have to slap off the man’s moustache. Settled on a course of action now, Roy got to his feet and strode in Goodman’s direction. Jeff spotted him coming and looked panicked for a second which reminded Roy to school his expression into less of a frown.

“Morning, Roy,” he said as Roy came up to his table.

“Goodman. Doing alright?”

“Yeah. Yep, grand. You?”

“Fine.” Roy sat on the edge of the seat across from him. “How are you feeling about the match?”

A look of surprise settled on Goodman’s face. “Oh, er, yeah. Little nervous but I think we’ve got a shot. Thanks for asking, Captain.”

“I know Lasso shook things up with the whole roommate shit, so I want to make sure everyone slept well.”

Goodman nodded, seeming to roll with Roy’s line of questioning. “Yeah, slept fine. Reynolds doesn’t even snore like Jamie does. How’d you do then?” He asked, then glanced at Jamie. “Sleep through the night?”

Suspicion sighed a breath down Roy’s neck.

“Not exactly,” he said before falling silent. He clenched his teeth, trying to decide how to ask what he wanted to know without seeming concerned. Roy shook his head and leaned back. “He had a nightmare or some shit. Woke me the fuck up. But it was…” Roy watched as Goodman’s face fell and he lost track of what he was going to say as one of the alarms in his head blared. “It’s a thing then? Nightmares?”

Jeff shifted in his seat and took a sip of his drink. “I mean as long as I’ve known him, yeah.”

Roy frowned, feeling grimly vindicated that he might be on to something after all. Regular nightmares weren’t exactly a sign that things were great.

“Oh, you, er, didn’t try and wake him did you?”

“…Yeah. Why?”

“Shit I nearly got punched when I did that.”

Roy frowned and didn’t say that it had looked like Jamie thought he was the one going to get punched instead. “He didn’t wake up fully, went back to sleep, didn’t he.”

“Fuck off,” Jeff said, “Oh, you’re serious? It’s just he can’t sleep for shit, right? I mean you know now, takes him bloody ages to fall asleep and well, if he has a nightmare on top of it, I always try to let him ride it out and that way he’ll stay sleeping and I’ll stay sleeping and he’s not embarrassed or anything when he wakes up.”

“Hm.” If by ages to fall asleep, Jeff meant two seconds then sure.

Jeff looked down, now looking uncomfortable and a little wary. “Yeah, it happens to everyone once in a while, though? Especially before a match.”

Roy grunted. He could appreciate Goodman’s concern and was surprised despite himself. Didn’t think the ginger had it in him. “I have this reoccurring dream where I’m ripping out Trent Crimm’s throat with my teeth but then they fall out of my mouth. Fucking wake up in a sweat.”

“Oh.”

Roy inclined his head and glared. “If Tartt or anyone finds out about this conversation, I’ll break into your fucking house and make you wish you’d never been fucking born, got it?”

Goodman moved his head between a shake and a nod. “Er, yeah. Of course.”

“Good lad,” Roy said and rose to standing. “Now, get some actual food, you’re going to need fuel for the match. I’m going to check on the rest of the lads.”

He made a beeline over to the three stooges intent on getting a read on Tartt. Isaac and Colin exchanged near identical looks of surprise when Roy asked how they were feeling about the match while Jamie had the definite edge of suspicion on the downward jut of his mouth. It faltered when he met Roy’s gaze, veering upward before pursing around the straw of his iced coffee.

The sound of Tartt slurping his drink was enough to set Roy’s teeth on edge. “What’d you say to Jeff?” He demanded.

There was no way that Tartt could have overheard them from here, but Roy found himself crossing his arms anyway. “Excuse me?” Roy snapped.

“What’d you say to Jeff?” Jamie asked slowly, like he thought Roy was especially dim. “Looks like you kicked his puppy or summat.”

Roy followed Tartt’s pointed glance to where Goodman was staring at his tea and looking exactly as described. Come to think of it, he had the same expression on his face before Roy even came up to him. And a certain lack of chipper morning energy that usually made Roy want to drag his fingernails down his own face. The fact that Jamie Tartt, self absorbed prick that he was had spotted something off with Jeff from here when Roy was the one to have a conversation with him and didn’t, made Roy’s temper boil.

“I was checking in with him about the match. Not that it’s any of your fucking business,” Roy said, unable to keep the acid from the guilt to anger pipeline out of his voice.

Tartt rolled his eyes with such force that it dragged his head along with it. “Mate, settle down with this whole being a captain stick. Ain’t fooling no one.”

Suddenly he was thrown into an argument, fury making him forget about his original goal in stopping by. Tartt was infuriating. Smugness radiated from his eyes as he slurped loudly at his drink every time Roy went to speak and donned his most annoying smirk through it all. Trying to change tactics, Roy switched his attention to Hughes only to be interrupted by Jamie sucking on his drink again, air and ice water loud in the sudden silence. Roy’s patience snapped and before he could hit the glass out of Tartt’s hand, he walked away without another word.

Fuck Jamie Tartt. And fuck himself for being concerned, how stupid was he? Roy wasn’t Tartt’s minder. He was a grown man that could solve his own problems. That niggling seed of worry that had sprouted earlier was suddenly easy to rip out of his head and by the time he had marched up to the waitress and ordered another tea he was fully ready to wash his hands of Tartt entirely. Only, just as Roy continued on his quest to check in with the Greyhounds, he spotted Jamie leaving the Café cursing Isaac as he went. Which wasn’t what caught Roy’s attention, no, Jamie cursing at his teammates was nothing new. It was the loud squeak of his shoes as he stopped on a dime in the lobby.

Turns out that concern he thought he had ripped out had grown roots because Roy couldn’t look away. He listened with half an ear to Roberts chatter on about Wolverhampton’s defensive line while outside in the lobby Jamie went to dash behind a planter, looking around before pulling out his phone. Roy could only see his profile from here but could read the dismayed expression that passed over Jamie’s face well enough. He had been looking at his phone like that last night as well.

“It’s just not looking good, is it?” Roberts sighed.

His air of finality pulled Roy’s attention back and it took a couple blinks for Roy to catch back up to the conversation. “None of that,” Roy said sharply, “fuck what the pundits say, fuck what anyone else says. We haven’t been shit at training this week, it’s anyone’s fucking game, got it?”

Roberts let out a breath through his nostrils. “Yeah. Thanks Kent.”

He stalked off and Roy looked back at Jamie to find him in the same spot with his shoulders hunched. He stood rigid with his phone up to his ear which Roy could see from where he was standing had flushed a deep red. He suddenly tucked his face down, taking his expression out of Roy’s view. Not wanting to pass up his lead, Roy strode past O’Brien over to Obisanya who was wandering into the Café entrance where it allowed a slightly better vantage point on Jamie. Fronds from the plant next to the striker obscured half his face so Roy angled a step to the side.

“Morning, Sam,” Roy greeted. He spared a quick look to Jamie and almost stopped to stare. Roy could have thought it was the overcast lighting from the adjacent window washing out the grey in his eyes if he hadn’t been face to face with that same empty look from last night.

“Good morning, Captain,” Sam greeted. “Beautiful morning, is it not?”

Roy threw him a scathing look and would have walked off if he hadn’t just resolved to be a better Captain. Also, he could see more than half of Tartt’s face from here.

“How d’you feel about the match?” Roy asked him.

“Fair enough,” Sam laughed bashfully and then hesitated by plunging his hands into his pockets. “Well, a little nervous if I am being honest. Last time we played here, it did not go well, did it?”

Roy remembered. He himself had been outrun by the opposing captain during a preseason friendly and cost them a goal.

“No. Just means we have some fucking payback to dole out. Going to make them look like fucking arseholes by the time we’re done with ‘em.” Sam’s mouth opened at Roy’s tone but curved up into a determined smile as his words hit home. “If those fucks think they’re going to get away with that shit again, they’ve got another thing coming. Cause we’re fucking ready for them this time.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Roy.” Ted’s voice chirped.

“Jesus fuck!”

Roy and Sam startled at Ted. He was standing right beside them, holding two trays of food from the buffet and smiling like he had been there the whole time.

“Morning, fellas. Sorry to scare you there,” he said and dropped into the seat across from Beard. Their other coach reached for the bowl of cereal and offered them a tired greeting.

Sam smiled at them with his hand still clutched over his heart. “Good morning, Coaches.”

Roy used the distraction to cast a look back at Jamie. The lad hadn’t moved, the arm that had held his phone was now hanging limply at his side and his face was still a blank mask. He paid half an ear to Ted and Sam while he watched Tartt stand there. The longer he continued to do his best imitation of a statue the harder it was for Roy to pretend to be involved in the conversation happening next to him.

Something was definitely up with Tartt. Something wrong. And Roy was certain that whoever he had just been talking with was the same person who lit up his phone last night. He was about to excuse himself before he caught sight of Goodman leaving the Café and making straight for Jamie. Halfway across the lobby, he called out to the still spaced-out man who flinched so violently at the sudden greeting that his shoes squealed against the tile again. Jamie played it off, turning to regard Jeff with a bright smile that crinkled his eyes. Now that Roy could see the full view of his face it was like that vacant look had never been there in the first place.

“…like our hot-tempered captain here. Right, Roy?”

Roy had never pegged Jamie for an actor. But seeing him go from catatonic to sprightly at the drop of a hat forced Roy to reconsider. Jamie looked his way then and it was the Jamie Tartt he knew looking back at him, not the strange one that Roy was starting to catch glimpses of. He narrowed his eyes, looking for something he’d know if seen but at finding nothing he turned back to Lasso. The coach was gazing expectantly at him along with Beard and Sam.

“What?” Roy glared at him.

“I was just saying to Sam here that I have faith him and so do you. Ain’t that right?”

“Fucking kind of question is that? Of course I do,” Roy said and turned to Sam. His face was cautiously hopeful and so very young. Barely an adult really.

“You’re a great player, Sam, when you get out of your head. It’s like he fucking says. Fucking… believe. Not everything he says is bullshit.”

Ted was grinning big enough it had to hurt his cheeks after Roy jabbed a finger at him and Beard gasped dramatically. They squealed at each other in a manner ill befitting of grown men.

“Roy, you have no idea what that means to me,” Ted said.

To his horror, Roy felt amused by Teds candor and not appalled by it. He rolled his eyes and shook his head for good measure.

“Thank you, Captain,” Sam said, “I truly appreciate your kind words. Ah there’s the rest of the team now.”

A cacophony of noise heralded the Greyhounds arrival in the lobby. Roy clapped Sam on the shoulder and strode to the entrance to head them off. If he was going to do this than he would do it properly. Jamie, Sam, and all the rest of the lads were his responsibility. Most of them were grumbling, anticipation for the match better than any caffeine to wake them up this morning. They bounded toward the Café in a swift moving tide, only to crash to a standstill after Montlaur in front stalled upon seeing Roy waiting for them. He looked back and forth, apprehension flitting across his face.

“Montlaur,” Roy greeted him and raised his fists level with his elbows. “Ready to kill ‘em today?”

His blue eyes narrowed a fraction, but he gingerly accepted Roy’s offer of a fist bump.

“Putain? Uh, oui, yes, Captain.”

“Good lad. Alright, Zoreaux.”

Thierry followed Montlaur grinning ear to ear, knocking his fists against Roy’s with considerably more enthusiasm than Richard. “Captain!”

The Greyhounds all filed through, most of them happily surprised with Roy and the few who were suspicious as they gave their fist bump all had their eyes light up when their knuckles connected. It was a childish greeting for childish men but by the time the whole team passed by Roy felt a little lighter. Felt like he could earn back his role of captain again and be proud of it. As he followed the team back into the café he caught Ted’s eye to find that the coach had a proud smile on his face. Feeling generous, Roy allowed him a nod before seeking out more Greyhounds to bully into being ready for the match and by the time everyone was boarding the bus, the team’s mood had improved. Everyone’s Roy had noticed, except for Goodman and Tartt. They were the last to board, walking up to where Roy was waiting at the door nervous and tense respectively. Jeff at least gave an imitation of a smile at having to fist bump Roy to enter the bus but Tartt approached donning his usual hostile scowl. He tried to shove his way past, but Roy stood firm. He baited Tartt into paying the fee and felt a sense of satisfaction when he punched Roy’s knuckles with his own. There was that fire that infuriated him.

“Cheers,” Roy said, stepping aside as he reached out to clap Tartt on the shoulder. Jamie jerked at the movement, his shoulders hiking up and levering his arms up with them. Roy felt his expression freeze as his hand made contact, too late to abort the motion now. Jamie just stared at him, not even trying to pretend away his knee jerk reaction. He sidled by Roy, watching him cautiously before scurrying up the stairs. Again, confirmation was thrown in his face that something was wrong with his striker. He was abnormally jumpy. Roy followed him up the steps into the bus, tamping down on the ugly feeling in his gut. Jamie’s eyes had flashed with something when he flinched, something Roy hadn’t recognized the look of until just a few hours ago.

Fear. He had been scared when Roy reached out the same way he was scared after waking up from his nightmare, and the same way he had when that waitress appeared from behind him earlier. It had flashed by so quickly Roy was sure he would have missed it had he blinked but he knew what he saw. As he took a seat, he had to wonder how many times that look had been there and Roy just hadn’t noticed?

-

“Hey, Dad,” Jamie greeted, his thumb already tapping the call volume down. He casted another wary glance around the lobby for anyone in earshot.

“There he’s!” James’s slurring voice boomed in his ear. “Match s’starting in a coupla hours, eh? Can fuckin’ hear ya shaking ‘n your boots from here, ha!”

Jamie tilted his head away from the sound of his dad’s laughter.

“Better look sharp out there, Jamie. Don’t wanna be embarrassing me in front o’ the lads, yeah?”

Jamie’s stomach did a funny little swoop. “You’re going to watch the match?” He tried to tamp down on the hope staining his tone.

“‘Course. Put money on this one, didn’t I? No safer bet ‘en Richmond cocking it up.”

Jamie gritted his teeth, flicking his eyes around before pitching his voice low. “Actually feeling good, yeah. Real good. You know, maybe you can place a bet on me this time, if you’re watching, like?”

And he had been feeling good. A full night’s sleep had him itching to get his feet on the pitch. Now though, his stomach was twisting in knots as regret hit him like a tidal wave, wishing he could take the words back as soon as they were out of his mouth. A fresh bout of laughter came from his phone, harsh against his ear. His dad had to catch his breath like Jamie had just said the funniest thing in the world.

“Me son wants me to bet on him! Bug, Bug, you hear that?” James laughed some more but when he spoke again all mirth was gone and his voice went mean. “Want me to lose money, eh? Me hard earned cash? On you? Eh, Jamie, on you? Saw the highlight reel for ya last match and- hic- where were ya? Fuckin’ no where. You and your fucked lef’ cross cost the match and you’re gon’ lose this one too. Cause you’re nothin’ but a sad ickle loser.”

Jamie swallowed down the devastation that burned in his throat as his dad picked up steam. His eyes settled on the point of a leaf as the tips of his ears grew hot and the sudden volume over the phone had him hiding a flinch.

“Letting yourself be trampled by fucking United. United! Fuckin just bent over and took it, like a fuckin’ pussy, like a fucking faggot, Jamie. What ‘n the fuck I do to ‘serve you for a son? Been nothing but a disappointment, letting that scum shame you like that. Fucking embarrassing. Such a little bitch you are. Ought to come over there and fucking remind you where you come from you fucking pussy. You’re shit. Shit! Fuckin useless pile of shit. That’s what you are, a soft, steamin’ pile of shit. Isn’t that fucking right?”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Sorry, Dad, he says. I fucking asked you a question.”

The elevator dinged and Jamie looked over to see Lasso and Beard walk out. He watched as they made their way to the Café, greeting the receptionist as they passed. Jamie barely heard his own voice when he spoke.

“I.. yeah you’re right.”

“What ‘m I right about?”

Jamie’s ears were on fire now. “That I’m a- a steaming pile of shit.”

“That ain’t what I said. Now what are you?”

“…I don’t—”

“I asked you a question, boy, what are you?”

Jamie’s throat felt tight but panic from past backhands if he was too slow to answer pushed his voice out. “I… I’m a- a soft, steaming pile of shit.” This time his dad’s laughter didn’t phase him. It cackled over the line and Jamie let it wash over him like a cold rain.

“There’s a good boy. But guess what, ‘s still my name on your back. You’d better lose like a man, you hear me? Don’t fuckin embarrass me, cause I’ll be watchin’.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line went dead then, and the sudden silence became a ringing in his ears. He blinked at the plant in front of him, the point of the leaf he’d been looking at earlier was no longer in focus. Shame burned like acid down his throat, prickling over his skin and stabbing his guts. His own words echoed in his skull, the sound of his voice pathetic and small parroting what his dad told him to say. Even from miles away, his dad had power over him. Always had to remind Jamie of his place. It was like he could sense whenever Jamie might be feeling good about himself and needed to do something about it. Like he’d ever be able to forget for long even without his dad reminding him. Jamie couldn’t help it could he? Could patch the cracks with humor and charm but the ugliness in his soul would just seep out anyway. Keeley had seen it.

And now Isaac and Colin were starting to see it too. He could make almost anyone laugh, them most of all but they hadn’t when he was messing with Roy, and Isaac had the nerve to act like he was better than Jamie for it. But he wasn’t better than Jamie, so Jamie had reminded him. If his dad had taught him anything other than how to take a punch it was how to tear someone down with tactical accuracy. So, Jamie had reacted. Got to see the hurt flash in Isaac’s eyes. It had cost him in the moment but now he didn’t regret it. It felt good. Isaac was lower than Jamie and he knew it.

“Alright, Jamie?”

Jamie jumped and almost twisted his neck looking around.

Goodman was approaching from the Café and looked sheepish at Jamie’s reaction. He forced a grin onto his face as he waited for Goodman to cross the rest of the considerable distance. Jeff had a weariness to his step today that lowered Jamie’s hackles despite himself. His ginger hair was covered by a beanie and his smile seemed tight at the corners. Since Jamie had come to Richmond, he’d never known Jeff to be anything but positive. It had rubbed Jamie the wrong the way at first, much like Obisanya, but Jeff didn’t care what other people thought of him. Least of all Jamie, and had even laughed at the jokes made at his expense at the beginning of his loan. Called him out in fact, since him being a ginger was low hanging fruit, he’d said. Jamie had taken a liking to him then and now seeing the normally unflappable Jeff visibly so upset had Jamie pushing his conversation with his dad to the back of his mind.

“Hey, bruv,” he greeted with a bright smile and clapped Jeff on the shoulder when he got close. Jamie slipped his phone inside his pocket where it sank like a stone.

“You like plants or something?” Jeff asked.

Jamie’s smile nearly faltered. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring. He chanced a glance at the Café and found Lasso seated across from Beard with a pile of food. Lasso was trying to get someone’s attention and Jamie looked to see that it was Roy ignoring the coach. He was standing with Obisanya but his eyes were on Jamie. Jamie’s put-on smile dropped from his face as Roy’s gaze lingered a second too long. Jamie immediately turned back to Jeff.

“Hey, Roy weren’t giving you any shit, yeah?” Jamie asked. Leave it to Roy Kent to upset his players.

Jeff shook his head and spoke with a light voice that didn’t fool Jamie for a second. “Oh, nah, he was fine.”

“Cause I’ll go over there right now, and you know he’d hate that.”

Jeff let out a genuine snort. “All good. Asked me how I felt about the match, can you believe that?”

Buoyed by his response, Jamie pushed enthusiasm into his tone. “He asked us the same thing, fucking mental. Ain’t he too old to be having a midlife crisis?”

Jeff rolled his eyes, but Jamie could tell it was fond. “Don’t let him hear you say that.” He tried for an amused tone that was unsuccessful.

“Ah, what’s he going to do? Chase me? Can’t catch me, can he?” Jamie wiggled his eyebrows.

Jeff, good lad that he was, laughed right on queue and immediately looked to Roy to see if he heard Jamie’s raised voice. Their captain was over by the Café entrance now, giving fist bumps to the incoming Greyhounds. Zoreaux had a stupid grin on his face while in front of him Richard had suspicion written across his features. The rest of the group had mingling expressions between those extremes. Roy did not look back their way.

“What the fuck?” Jamie said.

Jeff made an empathetic grunt. “You know, the other day before training Richard was speaking French and Roy didn’t say a word about it.”

“Fuck off.”

“No really,” Jeff said, “it’s proper nice to see, isn’t it?”

Jamie rolled his eyes and tilted his head at Jeff. “Won’t last. Just you wait, our good captain will be back to yelling in our faces in no time.”

“Well, your face, surely.”

Jamie put a hand over his heart in mock outrage before sticking his tongue out at Jeff. They shared a laugh, and Jamie shot the shit with him until some of the tension left Goodman’s shoulders. By the time the bus pulled up outside the hotel Jeff wasn’t exactly smiling but his frown had abated enough for Jamie to call it a win. He was the only Greyhound worth a damn and they would need all the help they could get against Wolverhampton. Especially if Jamie was going to prove his dad wrong. The sudden idea sparked a thrill though him, fear and exhilaration both. Lasso led the team onto the bus and Jamie followed behind, hanging back to the end of the line and ignoring the weight of his phone in his pocket. He let his dad’s voice ring in his ears. It was fuel to the anger churning in him now that he had nothing to distract himself with.

He felt hot despite the morning chill. He was going to prove his dad wrong. Jamie was so focused on psyching himself up he almost missed the commotion that was going on in front of him. It was taking longer than usual to file into the bus and so Jamie peered around Goodman to see Roy stepped to the side of the door like a leather clad gargoyle. His fists were raised and he was giving each Greyhound a fist bump before they climbed into the bus. Jamie couldn’t believe it. Was still skeptical by the time it was his turn to board and narrowed his eyes at Roy. He scoffed and made to move past the captain, but Roy stepped into his path still holding up his fists.

“What are you doing?” Jamie demanded.

“I’m giving the team fist bumps,” he replied, looking just as unhappy as Jamie was.

“Fuck off, Roy,” he said and stepped forward. Roy didn’t budge so Jamie crossed his arms and remained in the captain’s space. He seemed unbothered, only offered up his already raised fists. Jamie felt his temper flare so he knocked his fists into Roy’s with more force than necessary.

“Cheers,” Roy chirped and clapped him on the shoulder. Jamie was too stunned to notice his own flinch. He had to have been on Roy’s last nerve by now, surely. He searched Roy’s face on his way up the stairs and his troubled expression remained until well after he sat down next to Goodman. Only once the bus started moving and he didn’t get clipped around the head did he start to relax. He chose to stare at his own hands instead of out the window. What did Roy think, that a childish greeting was going to inspire the team into winning? His own knuckles still smarted and he watched them turn pale as he curled his hands into fists. Around him the Greyhounds buzzed with energy and Isaac and Obisanya led them into a cheer. He didn’t join but he let the energy flow through him.

They were ready. And thirsty for a victory.

Jamie felt his phone go off in his pocket. Seven buzzes in quick succession but this time he didn’t reach for it. He played his dad’s words from earlier in his head. Imagined the texts from last night. Jamie breathed out slowly through his nose. He was going to make his dad lose money. A ready smirk came to rest on his face and stayed there even through Lasso’s speech in the dressing room. Stayed there until he was standing in an orange line with Richmond facing the Wolves with the grey sky above them. The stadium was a roar of noise, the crowd’s jeering music to his ears. Adrenaline rushed in his head and the whistle sounded.

Jamie was poetry in motion. His feet carried him up the pitch like lightning, dribbling the ball through and around every man who charged him. The crowd roared as he broke through the defence and rocketed the ball towards the net. The keeper dove too late. Behind him the Greyhounds cheered, and the stadium erupted in boos. Montlaur and Cockburn rushed him, patting him on the back and ruffling his hair. Jamie couldn’t understand what Richard was going on about but Declan’s praise made Jamie beam. And he didn’t relent. The Wolves managed to tie it up after a botched pass from Goodman but Jamie wasn’t going to give them that inch. He was relentless, he pushed through the burn in legs and the fire in his lungs until finally in the minute after half time he stole the ball from Wolverhampton’s captain and scored with a needlessly flashy trick shot. The Wolves couldn’t recover and Richmond won the match 2-1.

Jamie felt electrified. He whooped and hollered with the few Greyhounds around him as the final whistle sounded, each pat on the back and hug brightening his grin. They couldn’t have done it without him and they knew it this time. His dad must be pitching a fit and the thought caused him to burst out laughing. Jamie was untouchable. He faced the crowd as the team started leaving the pitch, motioning them to boo louder. They obliged and Jamie drank it in as he caught his breath.

“Oi!”

Roy was jogging over and looked pissed despite the win, so Jamie readied himself for a lecture on passing. Jamie was in a good mood though and tilted his head back in wait. Roy opened his mouth and cut himself off with a grunt. He shook his head and spoke like he had to drag the words out.

“Asano’s face when you stole the ball from him, fucking priceless,” Roy said, “Now stop messing with the crowd and move your fucking arse.”

Jamie’s jaw dropped and he stared after Roy who spun around and walked away. His feet followed of their own accord as a slow smile climbed on his lips. “Did you just say something nice to me?”

Roy scowled ahead of him as Jamie caught up.

“Don’t fucking push it.”

“Good game, boys, good game” Ted called as they passed into the tunnel.

“You’re welcome, Coach,” Jamie sang.

Ted laughed and inclined his head and beside him Beard tipped his baseball cap. Picking up his pace like he was trying to get away, Roy hurried forward which urged Jamie into a half skip around O’Brien, Bumbercatch, and Dixon to keep pace with the captain.

“Feels good to be appreciated,” Jamie said, “Fuckin’ aces. You and me, we don’t belong here, do we?” Roy must have agreed because he said nothing. “Expect the whole team’ll want to buy me drinks tonight. As they fuckin’ should cause like I’m the best. I’m the only one keeping this team alive, it’s tragic. Dunno know what you’re going to do when I go back to Manchester, mate. Like, I’m the only one the fans come to see, the rest of these poor fucks can’t draw a crowd to sa—"

Roy stopped so suddenly that it was only Jamie’s quick reflexes that saved them from colliding. He leapt back with his heart in his mouth.

“That’s it,” Roy yelled. He glared at Jamie and gritted his teeth before taking a long breath through his nose. “Yeah, you played a good match but there’s no need to be a fucking piece of shit about it.”

Jamie sucked in a breath, feeling like Roy just slapped him. He arranged his face into a stone mask as his own voice from the phone call earlier echoed like a siren in his head.

I’m a soft piece of shit.

“A good match? We won because of me. And where the fuck were you exactly? It were me who carried the whole team, me. You can’t keep up anymore, Grandad, and you know it.”

His voice echoed in the tunnel and the din from the crowd was starting to fade. Isaac, Colin, and a few of the other lads walked by them as Roy slowed to a stop. They glared at Jamie as they passed by. A cold breeze fluttered from the pitch causing goosebumps to erupt over Jamie’s arms. Roy closed the gap between them in three slow strides, coming to stand over Jamie with his arms crossed. His dark eyes were narrowed and flicked to Jamie’s ears and down his face, sizing him up. Silence stretched between them and Jamie braced for impact. Roy’s voice was low but not threatening when he spoke.

“All I’m saying is that you need to learn to win with a bit of grace, Tartt. Riling up the home crowd after running circles around their team? Not a good look. And fuck, if you’re not going to win a lot more in your career.” Jamie gaped with his mouth parted, certain he had misheard. He felt suddenly disarmed, each word coming out of Roy’s mouth tugging the rug out from underneath him. “Cause if you can wake up and play like that now,” Roy said and pointed toward the pitch. “You’re gonna be fucking legendary in your prime. Truly fucking great, as much as it pains me to fucking say. But you’re not there yet. And that prick attitude of yours is the only thing in the way of that. If you ever want to be where I am now, talking to some little idiot who had your poster on their wall when they were growing up, then you need to play well with others. You need to pass the fucking ball and be apart of the team. Ask yourself, what kind of player do you wanna be?”

Later, after Jamie had finished processing the most words Roy had ever said to him, he would think of dozens of clever remarks but right now he was struck dumb. Roy Kent thought he was going to be legendary?

“Yeah, I do, Tartt.” Roy said gravely, “But not as good as me. And stop saying my name like that.”

Roy turned his back cursing under his breath about mustaches of all things and Jamie watched him go. Somehow, he found his way to the showers in a daze and lingered under the spray as the minutes ticked by, letting Roy’s words sink in. Roy thought he was going to be great, said so himself. It was all Jamie had ever wanted to hear from the man. A lump settled in his throat and stayed there until he got on the bus. Didn’t even notice how Isaac, Colin, and the lads who had heard him in the tunnel were icing him out. Just sat in an empty row and stared out the window as raindrops started tapping on the glass.

-

Inside the stadium, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Roy stared down the Wolverhamton lads as he led his boys onto the pitch from the tunnel. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins but Roy still couldn’t get Jamie Tartt out of his head. The look on the striker’s face was unsettling. He always had an air of intensity to him especially on match days, but it felt sharper today, more vicious. The line from his shoulder to neck was tense and his hands locked into fists. Right until the whistle sounded and Tartt uncoiled like a spring. Completely ignoring the opening play Lasso had called, Tartt played like a man possessed and Roy felt a little like he was looking in a mirror. His technique was flawless, raw talent and pure grit colliding in a stunning display that won a goal not two minutes into the match. It was as infuriating as it was magnificent to watch Tartt rule the match. He ignored his teammates, intercepted passes, and was downright unsportsmanlike to the opposing team. Roy could gladly accept Tart deriding Wolverhampton’s captain after he stole the ball from him and scored because Asano was a complete bellend but watching Tartt stir up the crowd after their team lost wasn’t something Roy could allow.

He approached Tartt differently than he normally would, acknowledging Tartt’s steal from Asano first before telling him to lay off the crowd. And it worked until it didn’t. Tartt pounced on the perspective compliment and followed Roy off the pitch but mouthed off the whole way until Roy’s patience broke when they were halfway through the tunnel. He stopped walking abruptly and whirled on Tartt.

“That’s it!” Roy snarled. He barely registered Jamie leaping away but caught that persistent fear flashing over his face which was a splash of ice water to quell the rage flaring up. Roy took a break before continuing, pulling in a breath the forge some distance. “Yeah, you played a good match, no need to be a fucking piece of shit about it.”

It had the opposite effect as intended. Jamie gasped as if punched, his features a flurry of emotions that Roy couldn’t decipher. He clenched his teeth before raising his chin in a challenge, voiding all emotion from his face in the time it took to blink. His eyes though, they were brimming with outrage.

“A good match?” He spat. “We won because of me. And where the fuck were you exactly? It were me who carried the whole team, me. You can’t keep up anymore, Grandad, and you know it.”

His tone was vicious and loud, rubbing salt into an already open wound for Roy who felt his teeth clench together. Behind Tartt, a group of the lads were walking up from the pitch, all of them scowling at him. Roy waited until they passed. If Tartt wanted to get personal, he could get personal too. Tense silence hovered as Roy closed the distance between them. To his credit, Jamie didn’t budge or even look away, just met Roy’s furious eyes with his own. They were dark in the blue shadow of the tunnel, alight with hurt.

Roy came to a stop. Hurt? Plain as day now that the initial flare of Roy’s rage had passed. He looked over Jamie to try and find fault with his assessment. His hands were curled into fists, muscles of his forearms straining with the tension. Roy’s eyes lingered on the visible goosebumps before flicking up to the red tops of Jamie’s ears. Roy thought back to the phone call he spotted Tartt having this morning. His ears had been flaming then too despite his face being a blank mask. A little like now, actually. Jamie’s sharp eyebrows were pointed slightly down and his mouth neutral, a complete disconnect to his eyes. A ribbon of discomfort squirmed in Roy’s gut as he digested what he was seeing in front him. A scared kid, baring his teeth to look tough.

“All I’m saying is that you need to learn to win with a bit of grace, Tartt,” Roy said, surprising himself with how diffused he managed to sound. “Riling up the home crowd after running circles around their team? Not a good look. And fuck, if you’re not going to win a lot more in your career.”

He watched shock break through the mask on Tartt’s face and his instinct told him to press the advantage. “Cause if you can wake up and play like that now, you’re gonna be fucking legendary in your prime. Truly fucking great, as much as it pains me to fucking say.” Jamie’s eyes became so round he reminded Roy of the owls Pheobe showed him with eyes that took up half its face. He continued in a gruff voice. “But you’re not there yet. And that prick attitude of yours is the only thing in the way of that. If you ever want to be where I am now, talking to some little idiot who had your poster on their wall when they were growing up, then you need to play well with others. You need to pass the fucking ball and be apart of the team. Ask yourself, what kind of player do you wanna be?”

Jamie didn’t seem to have a response. His mouth parted slowly and he stared at Roy like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“…Roy Kent thinks I’m going to be legendary?” He said, still staring like he didn’t realize his mouth had gone and moved to produce sound.

Roy scowled. “Yeah, I do, Tartt. But not as good as me. And stop saying my name like that.”

With that, he turned around and left Tartt behind. Roy soon discovered that he had inadvertently rendered the lad mute. He got through his shower and changed into his day clothes without Tartt speaking a single word. At first Roy thought he had really gotten through to him but then he caught site of Jamie’s face. He looked bewildered as he trailed after Cockburn to the bus and Roy could practically hear him repeat Roy’s words in his head. Roy was starting to feel like he did something wrong when during the whole bus ride back to Richmond, Jamie still hadn’t uttered a single word. Some of the lads looked at him oddly but were too annoyed with the striker to question it.

It was with some relief that when Roy fought not to limp down the bus stairs that he saw Lasso talking with Jamie at the luggage compartment. There was a faint blush on his ears and he was badly trying to fight a smile. He could hear Ted praising Jamie from the other end of the bus, saying how proud he was. Roy frowned, trying to recall when Jamie ever had trouble accepting praise. Normally he ate it up, accepting acclaim from anyone and everyone with zero grace.

Ted, he supposed was different. Always concerned about the person, not the player. And he himself, well… he was Roy fucking Kent and the kid had a poster of him on his wall when he was growing up, it wasn’t a leap to assume he’d appreciate some praise. Admittedly, he never expected his words would knock Jamie on the other foot. It was another piece in the Jamie Tartt shaped puzzle and Roy didn’t quite know what to make of the whole thing. As he strode toward the pair, Roy knew one thing for sure. He would keep a weather eye on Jamie because he knew without a shadow of a doubt, someone had to.

Chapter Text

The whole way back to Richmond passed Jamie by in a blur. Instead of enjoying a post match high, he was stuck in a loop in his own head- self loathing and pride on repeat. It was all Jamie could think about. Whereas the shame of the phone call with his dad clawed and left him bleeding, Roy’s approval was like a bandage to the wound. Words from both men fought for purchase in his head the whole way home and left him feeling wrung out by the time they parked at Nelson Road. It was Lasso who brought him out of his head when they were disembarking the bus.

“Jamie!” Ted greeted. He stood beside the luggage compartment and handed Jamie his suitcase. “Great job today, kid.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Jamie said. He could tell by Lasso’s tone that he wasn’t done speaking so he waited. He glanced toward his car and caught the backs of the team bounding toward their cars.

“That early goal sure threw those wolves for a loop, what was that, like a minute in?”

“One minute and thirty-three seconds,” Beard said, zipping between them to grab his own bag and was gone as quickly as he came.

“One minute and thirty-three seconds,” Ted crowed, “man! And they way you kept on ‘em, hoo boy really showed ‘em how to play the game.”

Jamie ducked his head to hide the pleased smile that popped onto his lips as warmth unfurled in his belly. The way Ted’s eyes were sparkling like he was actually proud, well it was hard to play it cool, especially with his face warming up like it was. Ted had a big grin under his mustache.

“I’m just sure glad to have you on our team and wanted you know that.”

Jamie nodded and tried to act like Ted’s words weren’t thawing his blank expression. Why couldn’t he sing Jamie’s praises like a normal person? Had to say it with his full chest and make Jamie feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Yeah, thanks, Coach. Uh- felt good today, yeah.” Jamie cleared his throat and wound his hands under the hem of shirt, curling his arms around his belly. “Can’t expect any different from the best though, you know.”

“I sure do,” Ted said with a chuckle.

Encouraged, Jamie let a grin free. “Did you see Asano’s face when I- oh.”

Heavy footsteps announced Roy’s arrival at the luggage compartment. He stopped before them and stared at Ted who was in his way.

“Hey, Roy. Here ya go,” Ted said, crouching for a moment before handing Roy his duffel bag. “I was just congratulating Jamie here on a job well done today.”

Dark eyes flicked over to him, that same searching look that Roy had been throwing his way all day. His features looked irritated with a heavy frown and angled eyebrows but Jamie got the sudden sense it was put on. It knocked him off his equilibrium. He fought for his life to come up with something clever to say but could only seem to blink like an idiot.

“Great,” Roy said to Ted. “I wanna talk about Goodman.”

“Love that guy,” Ted said while beaming. “What’s troubling you about our favorite ginger? Now I assume you’re troubled on account of those eyebrows there but well, you know what they say about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and I. Though over here it’s arse, and that just don’t sound right. Arse-ume. Wait. Actually, no I like it. Arse…ume. Arse…”

Ted’s rambling gave Jamie time to wonder what Roy was getting at. “Why’re on Jeff for?” He asked while squaring his shoulders to Roy. “Yeah, he fucked up that pass today but that’s why you’ve got me around.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“No harm no foul is all I’m saying. You said it yourself that—”

“I don’t give a shit about how he played,” Roy snapped.

Jamie blinked some more. “Oh.”

“And a bit rich coming from you, innit?” Roy asked, “Just last week you got in Sam’s face for missing a pass during training.”

“Yeah, cause Sam needs to learn there’s like, consequences to his mistakes.”

Ted took a small step between them. “Alright, fellas. Roy, why don’t you continue with what you were gonna say?”

Roy heaved a sigh and regarded Ted. “Right. It was before you got here, in the preseason. His Grandad died and now his birthday is coming up or some shit and Goodman he’s, well he’s fucking messed up about it. Thought you could think of something to cheer him up or something. Yeah.”

That hadn’t been what Jamie was expecting. Jeff had never told him that. It’s not like they really talked about anything real, but he supposed that’s why Goodman had looked so down today. Not because of Roy at all and here the captain was trying to help his player off the pitch.

“Oh, I gotchya. Yeah, that sure is a tough thing. Thanks for trusting me with this Roy, I’ll think of something nice for him. And hey, I’m just tickled pink to see you looking out for our boys. Isn’t it nice, Jamie?” Now Jamie felt a bit guilty. Because it was nice. Roy had really showed up today as captain and Jamie still assumed the worst because it was Roy and he was playing Ted’s mind games now, wasn’t he?

“Right. Well, see you Monday,” Roy said to Ted before Jamie even realized Ted was waiting for a response.

“Oh, oh, Roy,” Ted called, “Jamie, I just wanted to know, how did y’all find each other as roommates? I was right, wasn’t I? Was I right?”

Ted had a big grin on his face and looked between them like he was watching a tennis match. As nice as Ted’s earlier compliments had been, Jamie couldn’t stand the smug set of his mustache. Ted didn’t know anything about him.

Jamie scoffed. “You weren’t, no. Cause he’s a dirty no-good liar and he does snore.”

Sure, he’d only found that out when he awoke before Roy that morning, completely shocked that the buzz saw hadn’t woken him up.

“And you’re a little fucking snitch telling everyone I was up past curfew.”

“Well, you were, it was your own rule.”

“I’m the captain, it’s my fucking prerogative.”

“Well, how’s that fair?”

“I never said it was fair.”

Ted cleared his throat in long series of bursts. “Ah, okay. Well, you know what they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. And neither will the beautiful friendship between Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie fired a glare off at Ted while Roy made a disgusted grunt and started walking away. “Keep fucking dreaming, Lasso.”

“Thanks, Roy, I will!” He yelled at Roy’s retreating back before turning back to Jamie. “Was it just me or was his heart not in that?”

“Think it was just you, mate. Ta.”

Jamie scurried away before the coach could get another word in. As he drove home, he wondered if Ted was being serious or if he was just playing his mind games. Did he think that Jamie and Roy could become friends? It was something he couldn’t deny he had been hoping for when he first came to Richmond before he had been disabused of the notion. But Roy actually seemed to think that Jamie was worth something after all, thought he could be truly fucking great he’d said. It maybe wasn’t a stretch to think that he could at least show Roy he was right about him. He could work with that and the thought made him smile.

-

Jamie was sleeping when a shock of pain seared across his face, bright and sudden, skin tearing open above his cheek bone. He cried out, scrambling out of he blankets and falling off the bed in his haste. His back hit the hardwood floor with a loud thump, knocking the breath out of him. Jamie rolled away and shot to his feet with one arm out to ward away another blow and one reaching up to stem the blood on the side of his face.

He stumbled back, blinking at the space between his bed and the closed door. The predawn light flowing through the blinds gleamed on the satin black comforter but wasn’t strong enough to lift the shadows clinging to the corners of the room and Jamie squinted through the darkness breathing heavily. He looked frantically around, eyes searching for movement between the leopard print headboard and the wall length television stand on the opposite side of the room. His reflection in the flat-screen looked ghostly, skin pale beneath the shock of his messy dark hair. No one looking at Jamie except pictures of him and mummy on the dresser. The plants atop the floating shelves above it casted soft shadows over the spindly silver frames.

He was alone.

Jamie peeled his palm away from his cheek and found no blood then ran his fingers over the skin he had felt tear open. It was smooth. He stared at his hand, confused before his brain clicked and shame made him flush. Grunting in frustration, Jamie gave his head a shake. He marched to his end table to check his phone only to scowl at what he found. No new calls. No new messages. Not one peep from his dad since Jamie’s victory two days ago. Jamie didn’t know what the man was thinking. Didn’t know where he would be coming from. His dad was probably livid with him for costing him that bet. Jamie dragged a hand over his face and briefly wondered if his dad would drive all the way here to take his anger out on him. But then he remembered that James didn’t know where he lived. He couldn’t break in if he didn’t know Jamie’s address.

The relief was staggering. He even crawled back into bed to try and have a lie in after checking his front door was locked. Only now that he was awake and the shadow of his nightmare was looming over his head, Jamie couldn’t sleep. That bright humiliation from their last conversation still burned hot. His dad’s booming laughter at the very notion of betting on Jamie stung but not worse than everything his dad made him repeat. If he was any kind of man, he never would have let his dad speak to him that way. Would have been brave enough to tell him off even, not do what he always ended up doing. But he showed his dad what he was made of on the pitch, the only way Jamie knew he mattered to him. Jamie rolled onto his side and forced himself to smirk. He had made him lose money and that had to have been embarrassing. Especially around his good for nothing friends. His dad could wail on him all he wanted, and it wouldn’t change that fact that Jamie had stuck it to him.

Even Roy had thought he’d been good out there. Buried between a number of critiques maybe but still. Roy was finally paying attention to him and not because they had gotten into an argument or shoving match. Roy Kent thought Jamie was going to be great. Jamie stared up at the ceiling as a sliver of dawn unfurled from the window and didn’t know what to think. He wanted Jamie to pass and be a team player. But it was confusing. Passing the ball was weak, it was giving up and showing his belly. Jamie didn’t need to pass. Jamie Tartt was the best player at Richmond by a mile. He stomped all over Wolverhampton, completely dominated them. He was the star.

He did know one thing though. Roy would never let anyone speak to him the way Jamie’s dad did to Jamie. No one would even dare. He wasn’t a weak coward. Roy was a giant. And he passed. Maybe not to Jamie but he still did it. And no one, not even Jamie’s dad could say that Roy Kent was soft.

“Fuck this,” Jamie said and launched himself out of bed. “Fuckin’ thinking in circles.”

Might as well head to the Nelson Road early if he couldn’t sleep. There were still three hours until training started so he dressed in his gym clothes and headed out as fast as he could. Once there, he flicked on the lights in the gym and hit the treadmill where the relief was instantaneous. His mind went quiet as he ran, feet pounding on the belt. He upped the speed and turned up his music and ran until sweat was pouring down his face and his heartbeat was bursting in his ears. Jamie lost track of himself, only coming back into his head when the alarm on his phone startled him.

He slowed the speed on the treadmill and went through his cooldown, still breathing heavy when he was done but he felt good. His blood was pumping and his head was tingling in a post workout high that unfortunately came crashing down when he left the gym and rounded the corner. Roy and Keeley stood at the far end at the junction between the treatment room and the entrance lobby. They made an odd pair, Keeley fabulous looking in a silver dress with a cropped pink fluffy coat and Roy, charming in his usual black get up and leather jacket. Keeley was gesturing with her hands and Roy, Roy was smiling at her. A genuine smile on his face turning his dark eyes into crescents as he shook his head at whatever Keeley was saying.

Jamie felt his steps slow as he took them in, oddly getting the sense he was intruding. As if smelling blood in the water, Keeley turned her head and locked eyes with him. The grin on her face grew and she laughed, Jamie could hear it, and then said something to Roy who looked at him and smirked. Jamie frowned. He marched forward, past the dressing room and straight up to them, stopping so quickly that beads of sweat flung off of his dark hair.

“You talking about me?” Jamie demanded, looking between them.

“Oh yeah,” Keeley chirped like it was obvious, “was just telling Roy about that time you fell asleep in the middle of West Side Story, remember that?”

Jamies mouth fell open and he felt his ears go hot. “Why’d you go and tell him that for?”

Keeley’s eyes widened. “Oh no, no I’m not messing with you! I just thought it was really cute, Jamie. Honest.”

Jamie stuck his hands on his hips. “Yeah right. You called me uncultured.”

“Hey, no. That was when you yelled at the stage, remember—"

“-It were confusing,” Jamie cried, “They do all these emotional things, make you feel all these emotional ways and, and…” He crossed his arms at noticing the smirk on Roy’s face.

“Knew you were a child,” Roy said.

Jamie felt the heat leave his ears as humiliation and rage twisted together in his gut. It was like the charity gala all over again although at least this time, Keeley had the decency to look abashed.

“Rude,” Keeley squawked, “You can’t just come and ask me—"

“-And you’re a hairy old fart,” Jamie snapped, mouth going before catching the look on Roy’s face. “You- you…”

Jamie fully expected to see that vindictive scorn he was all too familiar with but when he registered the look in Roy’s eyes to find no contempt at all, he faltered suddenly uncertain. The amused look Roy was giving him shifted into something else as a single eyebrow rose from its relaxed position. He growled under his breath, and Jamie had heard that same goading threat countless times before. It sounded the same, but Jamie heard it differently this time, could tell it wasn’t fueled from the furnace inside Roy’s chest. Jamie knew he was being messed with but usually when that happened Roy was anything but casual about it. This was almost good natured for him.

Jamie felt thoroughly on the other foot, and he didn’t like it. Feeling ready to spit venom, he started taking a gulp of air but Keeley was quicker.

“Well,” she said, interrupting with a wicked glint in her eye, “we did have a full-on conversation about transformers one time you fell asleep, remember?” Jamie threw his palms up, asking why she was doing this to him without words. “Yeah, you were going on and on all about this Gridlock bloke.”

“Grimlock,” Roy and Jamie said at the same time.

Jamie’s indignation flew away as his whole head snapped toward Roy. The captain’s lips were pressed together and he met Jamie’s gaze with narrowed eyes, previously unclenched hands now curled into fists.

Jamie pointed a finger at him. “You like transformers.”

“No.”

“No, you do. Ha, who’s the child now, Roy?”

“Fuckin’ clearly it’s you.”

Jamie grinned, tilting his head back and pulling on the ends of the now drenched towel around the back of his neck. “Who’s your favourite, then? Bet it’s Starscreen.”

“It’s Starscream!” Roy yelled and then snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clacked together.

Jamie’s smile turned triumphant. “I knew it, you’re a fan!” Back on the other foot, Jamie was on cloud nine. How did he never know this about Roy?

“How the fuck do you know about Transformers anyway? That’s got to be like ten years before you were even born. Jesus fuck me.”

Jamie lost control of a laugh, it tumbled out his lips high and flat, but he was too chuffed to care. Roy Kent was talking about transformers with him. What was his life? “Original cartoon were the best, but the movies came out like ten years ago, you know those ones?”

Roy scoffed at him as Keeley glanced to the entrance and back.

“No, cause I was busy being Roy fucking Kent.”

“Fair play, fair play,” Jamie said. “They’re kind of shit, yeah, but still pretty class. And they got Meghan Fox, so what more do you need to know, really?”

“God, she’s so fit,” Keeley sighed.

“Who?” Roy asked.

Jamie did a double take as Keeley dove into her red leather purse. “Oh my God, Roy. She’s so hot she makes me want to kill myself and fuck her brains out at the same time.”

“Jesus.”

“You know her,” Jamie told him, nodding his head.

Keeley stuck her phone in front of Roy’s face and they both watched his expression not change in the slightest.

“Oh yeah,” Roy said, “Did a line with her at a party once. Fitter in person.” A loud smack rang out as Keeley clutched at Roy’s arm, gasping like she was taking her last breath of air.

“Fucking mint,” Jamie said, “wait, or are you taking the piss?”

Roy had a wry smile on his face looking down at Keeley. “What did she smell like?” Keeley asked, “did she smell better than me?”

“No,” he said, and then to Jamie still with his lips quirked up. “And no. So, she’s in a Transformers movie then?”

Roy looked different when he smiled, and it threw Jamie off. “U-uh, two. Yeah, two.”

A high-pitched jingle had him and Roy look at Keeley. Her mouth pulled down dramatically. “Ah shit, gotta go,” Keeley said, “This was fun though! Have fun watching me walk away. Bye, Roy.”

Jamie sneered at Roy as he eyed her up and down. “Nice talking to you, Keeley.”

“Uh, bye to you too, I guess,” Jamie called loudly at her back. They both stared after her and silence settled between them before remembering each other’s presence.

“You know we’re doing cardio after the match tape, right?” Roy asked, eyeing Jamie’s sweat drenched muscle shirt.

Jamie scoffed. “Will still run circles round you, Grandad.” His eyes flicked over Roy, waiting for that anger to surface but the captain only looked unamused.

He rolled his eyes and turned away, leaving Jamie to head into the treatment room without a shove or even a glare. Before Roy could catch Jamie staring at him through the glass as he was greeting Gail, Jamie spun and hustled into the dressing room, once again feeling like he was missing something. He let the jet hose of the shower spray into his back and unknot some of the tension there. Their conversation had been downright civil, included one of Jamie’s favourite topics and he got away with calling Roy old.

“Weird,” Jamie mumbled, “that was weird.”

It was a decidedly strange start to the week and got weirder as the days progressed. By Thursday Jamie felt like crawling out of his own skin. He could barely sleep and when he did, nightmares would chase him awake. The girls he had invited over never stayed the night, so they weren’t really any help to keep them at bay. His dad still had made no attempt to contact him and the longer Jamie hadn’t heard from him the more paranoid he became. It was all he could think about. Jamie knew he was in for it from the second he scored that first goal. Even at Nelson Road he felt himself looking over his shoulder. It was only on the pitch or in the gym he could maintain a clear head.

The one good thing about this week had strangely enough been Roy. His behaviour had been odd since their conversation about Transformers and continued to be odd every day thereafter. It was like he woke up one day and remembered how to be captain of a premier league football team. Barring this morning’s hiccup with Montlaur, it was a vast improvement from before. He was actually checked in with the lads during training, dispensing advice even though his first few attempts ended in a tantrum. Now he was spotting Jamie, fingers hovering over the bar as he struggled through a bench press.

“Come on, Tartt, fucking push,” Roy barked.

Jamie wanted to swear at him, but it was more weight than he had benched before. His face was red and his hair drenched in sweat. It was all he could do to push the bar up from his chest let alone curse Roy out for tricking him into adding more weight to his set. Before Lasso came along Roy had always made sure to be on the opposite side of the gym from Jamie at all times, like if he stood too close he would combust. Now though, it was like everywhere he turned there was Roy Kent.

Here, there, and everywhere this week and Jamie could barely believe that he was suddenly on Roy’s radar. Badgering him to pass on the pitch, glaring at him in the cafeteria, budding in on his conversations in the dressing room, and now betting that Jamie couldn’t lift more in the gym. As his arms trembled upward Jamie wished for a second that Roy would go back to pretending he didn’t exist. But then he caught sight of Roy’s eyes, completely locked onto Jamie’s form and it was the fiery boost needed. Jamie gritted his teeth and pressed his arms up until they were straight. Just as weights at either end were making the barbell sway precariously and Jamie’s arms started to quake Roy guided it into the bracket.

A loud groan expelled from Jamie’s lips as his arms dropped down to his chest. “Fuckin trying to kill me,” he complained. He felt Roy move away from the head of the bench and stop at his side to wait for Jamie to catch his breath. He opened his eyes and took the captain’s offered hand, groaning as Roy hauled him up.

“Good work, Tartt,” Roy said and clapped him on the shoulder, making Jamie have to supress a smile. As he left Jamie to stretch and go hop on the treadmill, no one even gave Roy a second look except to firm up on their form as he was walking by. The status quo had shifted. Just today, before reducing Jamie’s arms to ash, he had driven Hughes so hard with box jumps the lad had lost his lunch, he made Ted order O’Brien do so many jumping jacks on the pitch that he collapsed, and even got Jamie to feel pity for Obisanya when Roy had him do burpees on the mat until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. The Nigerian watched Roy warily as he started walking on the treadmill beside him, still out of breath from the burpees. If Jamie wasn’t busy with stretching his arm over his head he might have winced when Roy motioned with his finger and Sam hung his head but upped the speed on the treadmill. Not one to be outdone, Jamie finished stretching and aimed for the leg press.

“Lookin’ good, Dixon,” Jamie chirped as he breezed by the man doing bicep curls. He didn’t see the surprised look sent his way because he was in the process of picking a song on his phone when it started buzzing and his dad’s name flashed onto the screen. He could feel his breathing pick up before he bit down hard on his lip. The pain distracted him out of his panic as he leapt out of the seat and almost into Isaac.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” Isaac snapped as Jamie dodged around him.

As his heart was in his throat, Jamie couldn’t even tell him to fuck off. He just hurried out of the gym and down the hall feeling like he was going to be sick. His phone felt like a twenty-pound weight as he held it up to his ear.

“‘Lo?” Jamie asked and immediately winced at the sound of his voice.

His dad must not have heard him waver because his voice crackled through the line smooth and upbeat. “Jamie, lad! How’re you doing, son?”

It sounded like his dad was in a pub, Jamie could hear voices and boisterous laughter around him. “Um good. How are- how are you, dad?” He asked while looking around the empty hallway.

“Good, good,” James said and then laughed. “Shit, Jamie you really let them wolves have it, didn’t ya?”

Jamie swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. He floundered to choose what kind of tone he should speak with. His dad sounded happy, but Jamie had been bracing for fury from him for days.

“Uh yeah. Were a good match.”

“I’d say. Dead proud of you, son.”

“Oh,” Jamie uttered, a smile coming to creep up his lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ right!” James said, “you fuckin’ dominated. Didn’t know what hit ‘em.” Jamie laughed and ducked his head to hide his grin even though no one was around to see. “It’s what I get for betting against me own, eh? Don’t know what I were thinking.”

“Oh, you know,” Jamie said, feeling a prickle of anxiety. “It’s Richmond. Can’t carry ‘em all on me back all the time.”

He was rewarded by James chuckling over the line. “You can though, eh? Cause you’re my son. You did real good, Jamie.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Yeah, real good, real good,” James said, “but look. I’m in a bit of a bind, see, Jamie? Fuckin Denbo and Bug really got me going and I bet more than I should’ve. Me own fault, yeah? But shit, rent is comin’ up and I really fucked it, Jamie.”

Jamie felt his stomach plummet at his dad’s tone, feeling like the worst person alive for being responsible. “I’m sorry, Dad. I- is there anything I can do?”

“I really hate to ask, son.”

“No, really. How much you need?”

Silence crackled over the line and Jamie thought he heard snickering in the background but the buzz of indistinct voices around made it difficult to be certain. “Well, are you sure, Jamie?”

“Yeah ‘course. Go on, whatever you need, Dad.”

For all of James’s vices, gambling had never really been a big one. He would bet a few quid here and there but never much more than that, especially if he could blow it all on booze.

“Well… I need ‘round ten thousand pounds,” James admitted, and Jamie felt his eyes widen. A loud cut off laugh from Bug rang out over his dad’s voice. “Shut the fuck- fucking mick behind me can’t hold his liquor, sorry, Jamie, gimme a second to find some place quiet.”

Jamie froze, rationalizing that lots of voices sounded the same over the phone. But he knew what Bug’s laugh sounded like, had been on the receiving end too many times not to. With a sinking stomach, Jamie realized that his dad might be having him on. In the time it took for the background noise on the phone to go from loud to quiet as James moved through the pub, Jamie convinced himself that he had heard his dad wrong.

“Fuckin’ stupid of me,” James spoke up, “it were real fucking stupid. But even just a little would be a big help, son.”

Jamie almost sighed in relief. “Yeah, of course, Dad. Sorry, uh, how much did you say? Couldn’t hear too well.”

“Ah, about fifteen thousand if you could, son.” Shock coursed through him, making him rear back as if slapped. Static buzzed in his ears and over the front of his face, making it feel tingly.

“Whaddaya say?” James asked.

“Fif- fifteen? I- yeah, yeah of course,” Jamie heard himself say. His lips felt numb. “Um yeah, I can send all it to you.”

“Yeah? You sure? Hate to bother you with this, you know.”

Jamie pressed his nails into his palm. “I’m good for it, yeah?”

“Best player in the fucking prem, you’d better be, eh?”

He drove his nails deeper, focusing on the crescent shaped sting. “I’ll send it over now.”

“I really appreciate it. And Jamie? I love you, son.”

“…Love you too, Dad,” he said, all at once feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. It had been years since his dad had told him that. Jamie was so stunned that he didn’t realize the line had gone dead until the pain in his palm became too sharp.

A rush of feelings made his head spin, but he stepped to the side of them in his brain and brought his phone from his ear to where he could see it. Tapping and scrolling, he had the money wired to his dad within minutes. When it was done Jamie stared at his phone until the screen went black and a sick feeling roiled in his belly. Hatred. Vicious and burning, it spread under the surface of his skin ready to bleed out of him and burn him alive. He didn’t hear it when a text came through, barely even saw it but his eyes were drawn like a moth to a flame.

[“Dad”] You’re a good lad. Love ya [Thursday 11:48 am]

He stared at the text, eyes roaming over the words until they faded and the only thing he saw was the crushed look on his face being reflected back at him. Promptly, he gave his head a shake and stashed the phone back into his pocket. Jamie stood where he was a moment, unable to make himself move. He wouldn’t miss fifteen thousand pounds. He had more money than he knew what to do with. Had no reason to be upset over it. It was just… his dad knew Jamie would do anything asked of him and took advantage if it every single time. He told himself that he was being ungrateful. That he wouldn’t be where he was without his dad so he should be happy to give it.

It was his dad’s due really, for coming back and dealing with him and making him into the player he was. Jamie already had the talent, sure, and the grit. But he had been soft. Needed to be taught that there was more to the game than loving it making his mum proud.

But that sum would have been huge for him and Georgie when he was a kid. Hell, it would be huge for his mum now if only she would ask him for even a quarter of that. It wasn’t her way though. Jamie had barely been successful in paying off her debt let alone however much his dad asked him for throughout the years. He never could have done that without making it into the premier league and that was down to his dad. Because he came back and came to Jamie’s matches like he had always wanted. And if he was a little mean or a little violent with him sometimes then that was okay because Jamie would take what he could get. Because his dad loved him, even if he only told him so when it was earned. Didn’t make it any less real and Jamie had to remember that, so he brought out his phone again and stared at the text. It was proof. Written out plain for him to see.

Tension spilled out him the more he read over it and left him bone tired. He couldn’t wait to sleep tonight. And now he knew his dad wasn’t liable to call him in a rage, Jamie thought he had a good chance of sleeping through the night. Deciding that he would pay fifteen thousand pounds for that any day, Jamie turned around to head back into the gym feeling like a live wire. He could finish his work out, eat lunch, get through the rest of training, and then crash the second he got home. Just as he started walking down the empty hall he rocked to a stand still, his feet freezing on the green floor of the gym. The sounds of the lads working out and chatting were suddenly loud in his ears. He felt surrounded. And right in front of him was Sam sitting on the leg machine Jamie had been setting up before he left, looking at him uncertainly. He met Sam’s eyes feeling off guard like it was him that had been surprised and not the other way around. Jamie scowled to obscure his shock at having zoned out so badly.

“Oi, bugger off. I were using this first.”

Sam glanced to the other machine beside him that was unoccupied. “Oh...I didn’t mean to steal it from you. The other one is just right there?” His eyes got big and he looked at Jamie so apprehensively. Like he didn’t how weak he looked. If Jamie ever looked at his dad like that he would get punched in the teeth.

“Were using this one,” Jamie spat, “noticed you took off some weight. You can go on and add it back for me, yeah?” Obisanya drew his knees up to rest but didn’t make a move to get off, just rubbed his palms below his knees as Jamie loomed over him.

“There a problem, here?”

Jamie turned and raised an eyebrow at the incoming Dixon. “What’s it you?” He asked.

“Seems like you need to find a different machine, eh, Tartt?” Dixon said with a condescending smile on his face.

Jamie raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Oh, big man, eh? Everybody look out, Richmond’s slowest man thinks he’s hot shit.” He looked around for anyone nearby to laugh with him but only met the frowning faces of Isaac and Colin. They were still on their pedestal it seemed, which fine, Jamie didn’t care. Across from them some of the lads had stopped their dead lifts in favour of watching the scene play out.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Obisanya said.

Jamie looked back down at him, frowning at finding he hadn’t moved. “You think I’m some kind of bitch, do you? I told you to get up. Chop, chop,” Jamie said, snapping his fingers in front of Sam’s nose.

“Hey, that’s enough.”

Dixons voice was quiet and closer now. A bitter sneer came over Jamie’s face as he straightened and faced the other man. Dixon was looming into his space with his chin raised in challenge. There was a water bottle in his hand, one of those metal ones, and full judging by the way he was carrying it.

“Who the fuck are you tell me what to do?” Jamie stepped closer to Dixon so there was barely a hair’s breadth between them and went still.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Roy’s rough voice thundered through the gym, shocking Dixon into springing back while Jamie froze.

He snapped himself out of it and rounded on Roy. “Nothing to do with you,” he sneered, “why don’t you mind your own business.”

Roy made that surprised face where he lowered his chin and looked through raised bushy eyebrows like changing his expression would make Jamie second guess his tone. “Want to try that again?”

Jamie opened his mouth to tell Roy where he could go but was interrupted by Dixon. “Seems like Jamie thinks he has some kind of claim on this machine.”

“Yeah, cause I were using it first.”

“Are you fucking messing with me?” Roy shouted, “You’re pitching some kind of fit because you can’t be bothered to take two steps to your fucking right?”

“It’s fucking principle!” Jamie yelled back, “I were using it. It’s about respect.” A few scoffs from the lads watching rang out, earning a withering glare from Jamie. “No one disrespects Jamie Tartt.”

Pressure boiled under Jamie’s skin as Roy stepped forward. The captain’s fists were clenched tight, the vein in his forearms popping out and Jamie made sure to keep them in his sight as he squared up with him.

“Outside,” Roy growled, “now.”

The Greyhounds let out a chorus of ooohs that filled the gym around them as a spike of adrenaline fizzled through Jamie and carved an aching chasm in his chest. This was it then. He was finally going to get Roy to come out and hit him.

“Lead the way, old man,” Jamie said in a low voice constricted around a suddenly tight throat. They’d never be friends now. He had been stupid to hope.

Roy spared him one last sneer before turning to their audience. “You lot finish your fucking workouts.”

He prowled for the exit and Jamie followed with his chin thrust forward and a rictus grin marring his face. “Want to get your arse kicked in the cold? Fine by me,” he said. Roy didn’t look back, just kept walking with tension lining his every step. “Dunno what you think you’re playin’ at. Hard man Roy Kent. What you think, go outside and fucking what? Think a punch or two ‘s gonna make me, what, be’ave? Get me to play nice?”

Roy slammed the gym doors open and Jamie barely missed them on the rebound. His voice chased after Roy, running ahead into the hall. “Well, I’ll tell you something Roy, ‘m not soft. I’m not a weak fucking baby or, or a geriatric fuck like you. Think you can take a punch? You don’t even know what’s about to hit you, man. Let’s make something clear though, nothin’ near the balls, keep it clean, yeah?”

Roy turned the corner and walked straight by the back exit still ignoring Jamie who had to quicken his pace after hesitating toward it. “Doing this in the car park then? Works for me, can do with an audience just fine. Love an audience, me. Best to have someone there in case you go and have a heart attack, eh.” Jamie kept up a steady stream of taunts at Roy’s back, all the way down the hall and around the corner.

“…the best. The best player here, Roy. Richmond’s only hope and they fucking adore me for it. ‘Course they do. I’m rich, I’m famous, fucking fit and you… you… where the fuck are you going?”

Jamie skidded to a stop and looked between Roy and inside the canteen. He was holding the door open in a white knuckled grip. It was barely noon but a few people were milling inside already.

“I’m fucking starving,” Roy told him. He waited a beat for Jamie to do anything other than stand there.

“I don’t…are we fighting in there?”

Roy did not see fit to deign his question with a response other than to narrow his eyes. He growled and let go of the door, leading the way and leaving Jamie to follow. When he lingered in the doorway, Roy barked back, “Tartt!”

The patrons inside all jumped at Roy’s yell. Jamie did too as his feet whisked him forward. Confused, he followed Roy into the short lineup at the hot table where the smell of grilled meat and spices wafted up from behind the glass shield. Jamie’s already queasy stomach squirmed but he trailed behind Roy, managing to throw a wink to the three women in pencil skirts watching them from the nearest table.

Roy thrust a food tray into his chest that Jamie stared at. “We’re having lunch?”

He received a long-suffering eyeroll for an answer and watched as Roy turned and grabbed a plate, loading rice and chicken souvlaki onto it. He was caught staring with his empty tray still held up to his chest. Roy stopped moving forward, just waited for Jamie, unconcerned as more people filed into line behind them. Roy continued with his blank stare. Jamie shifted on his feet and glanced behind him to the people waiting.

“We… we’re doing lunch?”

“Grab a fucking plate before I do it for you.”

Jamie looked around, sure this must be some kind of joke. The Greyhounds were going to come through that door any moment and laugh at him for being a pussy. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Roy make a move for the stack of plates and Jamie startled as if pinched. He seized one before Roy could and did a double take at the captain’s extended arm. He was being completely serious. Jamie didn’t know what was happening. Fixing him with a threatening look, Roy dragged his tray down the line and this time Jamie went with it. He grabbed the same food Roy did, unwilling to spend any time on a decision between that, the salmon, steak, or dozens of salads at the next table over. It was only when he slid his tray to the register did he remember that his wallet was sitting in his locker. He hadn’t even showered before coming here had he.

“Come on,” Roy said. He planted a bottle of water on Jamie’s tray and nodded to the boy behind the register. His sticker laden name tag read, Russell. A lad fresh out of secondary school that always looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, even when the team came in for lunch. He gave a perfunctory nod to Jamie and set his eyes on the customers behind him.

“Did you pay?” Jamie asked, following Roy to a table at the far corner in front of a sunny window. “I… you didn’t need- I could have. I thought we were- what the fuck is going on?”

The plastic seat of the chair rattled on the legs with the force he plopped into it. Normally unbothered with meeting Roy’s eyes, Jamie had to make a notable effort to hold the man’s gaze. Taking a drink of water, Roy did not break eye contact until he drained half the bottle and set it back down. Then he dug into his food, leaving Jamie on read straight to his face. Now that he had time to settle into the realization that there would be no fists thrown between them, Jamie became uncomfortably aware of the sweat on his chest and the back of his neck. Rather than watch the other man eat, Jamie picked up his own fork which he realized Roy must have put on his tray and twirled it in his fingers.

“Eat,” Roy ordered.

Jamie frowned down at his food. “Not hungry.”

“We were in the gym all fucking morning and Lasso is having us scrimmage after lunch. Fucking eat.”

His voice had risen again in a tone stricken with so much impatience Jamie wondered if there was still a punch to be thrown after all. He slouched in his seat and huffed but brought a mouthful of chicken into his mouth. It woke up his appetite some and the next few bites were easier until he was halfway done his plate. Then Roy opened his mouth.

“You want to tell me what that was?”

Jamie stopped chewing for a moment. “Dunno what you’re talking ‘bout.”

“That bullshit with Obisanya and Dixon. One minute you’re not actually being a prick and then the next, you get a phone call and suddenly there’s a stick shoved so far up your arse your feet are skimming the floor.”

Jamie almost choked on his food around a laugh but then froze, not realizing that Roy had seen him go to take a call. “What are you, some kind of stalker?” Jamie demanded and speared some more chicken onto his fork.

“Who were you talking to?”

A familiar jolt fired in Jamie’s gut. He was thrown back to when he was a kid and people would ask too many questions. The kind that would get him in trouble. Teachers, doctors, coaches, neighbors, but namely his mum. And now Roy for some reason. It wasn’t like he had a black eye or split lip. He wasn’t letting his sleepless nights affect his performance, wasn’t acting differently than normal. Roy didn’t know anything, didn’t even know his dad existed. Jamie was just being paranoid. He forced himself to swallow down his chicken. Roy would never know just how weak Jamie really was.

“No one,” he said to his hand and then made sure to look Roy in the eye.

There was no levity to be found there. The sunlight pouring in from the window cast shadows from Roy’s eyebrows, throwing his already dark eyes pitch black. The same look his mum would give him when he gave her bullshit about how he got in a fight with some older kids or fell out of a tree.

“None of your business, Roy,” Jamie said. The anger in own voice surprised him but didn’t seem to phase the captain.

“That’s where you’re fucking wrong,” he said.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Roy said, “that I’m making it my fucking business.”

Jamie forced out a scoff and waited for Roy to elaborate. When he didn’t, Jamie took in a sharp breath. “What? Who I talk to? What’s it to you?”

“My team, my players, my fucking business. Something set you off and its no fucking excuse to treat your teammates like shit but if something is going on with you, I want to know what.”

Roy said it so calmly and matter of fact. He was giving Jamie a lifeline and he didn’t even know what for. If he did, Jamie knew from experience he wouldn’t bother asking. Too many pitying looks from too many teachers and coaches that had never bothered to get involved. When Jamie first got scouted, his mum had spoken to his coach. Told him not to let Jamie go home with his dad, to wait for her. And Coach had listened at first, but his dad was charming and friendly and Jamie himself had begged to go with him so off Jamie went. Every week when his mum was at her second job, Coach would let Jamie go with his dad even after he had seen the bruises on his arms. Had looked right at them and then handed Jamie a long-sleeved shirt to go under his kit. After that he stopped chatting with James and Jamie too, only speaking with him if it had to do with his performance on the pitch. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time, it had been buried with all the other times people had looked the other way.

But this was Roy Kent. My team, he said. My team like Jamie was his to look out for.

Like if Jamie told him he hadn’t been sleeping lately because he was terrified his dad would break in and make him sorry, that Jamie had thrown money at him for the countless time to buy some peace of mind and didn’t even care he was probably fleeced for more than was needed. That he was scared shitless because he hadn’t been so far away from his dad for so long since before Jamie was nine and it felt like he was being stalked by an increasing shadow.

Like if Jamie told him all that Roy would actually do something about it. Something crawled up Jamie’s throat, desperation or panic he didn’t know but he realized he had gone too long without speaking.

“Sam is the one that set me—"

“Bullshit, Jamie. Cut the fucking bullshit. What’s going on with you? You’ve been on edge since the match and now you’re going and picking fights over stupid shit. More stupid than usual that is.”

Jamie opened his mouth with a retort ready but then caught up to the fact that Roy just used his first name and forgot what he was going to say. He thought of his Roy Kent poster at his dad’s place long torn to shreds and the one at his mum’s still hanging on his wall and felt small. If he told Roy any of it, he’d think Jamie was more of a child than he already did.

“Nothin’s going on with me.” Roy stared him down. Right into his eyes like he could see Jamie for the liar he was. “So- so what, I’m having an off week. Happy? Going to hold me hand and braid me hair?”

Roy eased up on his glare and waited. Jamie couldn’t stand the silence, felt the longer it lasted Roy would have him spilling his guts. “Look. Yeah okay, this week ain’t been the best. Fine. But it’s all okay now, swear down.”

The silent treatment from his dad was over and it hadn’t even lasted that long at all. Jamie wouldn’t have to worry about him for a good while, at least until he burned through the money. Maybe it was the coward’s way out but this way he wouldn’t be looking for the exits or jumping at every noise his phone made. Roy was still looking at him with that look on his face though, making Jamie feel too exposed.

“I… okay. Was maybe taking shit out on the lads, I can see that. But Sam stole me fucking machine. Were only a quick call, he could have used the other one.”

“Who were you talking to?”

Jamie felt his mouth fall open. He had been sure he was gaining control of the conversation. “I just said it’s fine. You asked what was up with me and I said okay, something was but now it’s fine?”

“Why won’t you say?”

“Why d’you want to know so bad?”

“Because you’re acting weird as fuck about it.”

“Because you’re acting weird as fuck about it, mate.”

Roy bared his teeth in a growl but as was his recent habit, kept silent.

“Yeah, fine, not your mate. I know.”

Roy growled.

Jamie narrowed his eyes at him. “So what, are we mates then?”

Roy took a bite of his food in lieu of answering, looking like the chicken was rotten in his mouth. Jamie’s eyebrows shot upwards because it wasn’t a denial. “You know, cause I’d tell a mate who I were talking to,” Jamie hedged.

“Don’t fucking push it.”

Jamie shoved the last mouthful of rice on his plate into his mouth to hide a smile. “You didn’t say no.”

“Fuckin’ don’t talk with your mouth full, you idiot.”

“Ha! There, again. Didn’t object, did you?”

“Tartt—”

“Okay, okay. We’re not, not mates, happy?” Jamie stuck his tongue out and winked, rising up out of his chair fully intending take a break for it before Roy could interrogate him some more.

“Jamie,” Roy called when he made it two steps away. There it was again. Jamie, not Tartt. It made him stop. He glanced at Roy but stared down at his lunch tray. “You ever need to talk… I’m sure Lasso would eat that shit up.”

Jamie scoffed. No way he could stomach telling the coach anything. He could practically see the pity in Ted’s eyes.

“I’m here though. Too. If you need.”

The smile fell off his face. Jamie wanted to ask him why, opened his mouth ready to ask the question. But he didn’t need Roy to flip the conversation on him again so he offered his trademark cocky smile instead.

“Sure,” he said and took a step away before stopping again, glancing between the floor and Roy. “Thanks.”

There was nothing Jamie could say. He hurried out of the cafeteria feeling Roy’s eyes like two weights on his back.

Chapter Text

Jamie rushed all the way to the dressing room when as he walked in half the team turned to look at him. The din of conversation lulled as Jamie stopped in the doorway, leaving only the sound of the showers around the corner and echoing voices from the lads there. He caught Obisanya’s gaze first and then Bumbercatch’s beside him, both their eyes roaming over Jamie’s face and hands.

“Hey, bro,” Theirry called “how’d it go? You uh…?” He threw a couple jabs in the air and raised his eyebrows.

Jamie strode to his cubby with his chin up and jaw clenched as the Greyhounds started chattering again.

“No way bruv, look at him, not a scratch. There’s no way they fought,” Isaac said. Colin and Theirry snickered with him.

Bristling, Jamie focused on peeling his clothes off, imagining dozens of things he could say, all about Roy being too chicken shit to fight him. He couldn’t make himself say any of it though, not when Roy had actually been kind after having no reason to be. Had no reason to buy Jamie lunch after he was shitty to the lads. Fuck, but was he tired.

“We just talked, like,” Jamie said without meaning to while fixing a towel around his waist.

A shocked silence met his words before Colin broke it. “Yeah, that’s horse shit,” he said, “what actually happened?”

Sam had his head tilted and was looking right at him when Jamie left his cubby, skepticism heavy on the lines of his face. Jamie looked down at his feet until he was almost out the dressing room where they planted on the ground and wouldn’t budge. Traitors.

He made him self turn around and look Sam in the eyes. “Yeah, uh… yeah I could have used that other machine,” Jamie said, “but I were being a prick, I guess. Didn’t deserve that, did you? Um not like some of these other wankers. Yeah.”

He threw a look to Colin and Isaac but didn’t stick around to see their reaction, choosing to turn away and make for the showers. Roy hadn’t even told him he should apologize but his mouth seemed to have other ideas. It was the best Jamie could offer right now since the actual words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He could just imagine the bollocking he would get from his dad if he had heard Jamie just then. But he had just handed the man fifteen thousand pounds, so he figured that meant he didn’t have to think about that for a bit.

“Would you call that an apology, do you think?” Bumbercatch’s voice asked when Jamie was around the corner and stepping into the showers.

He didn’t want to hear whatever Sam had to say so he turned the handle but it was too late for the spray could drown out his voice.

“Hm, I think I might?”

Jamie froze under the hot water. It was another thing to add to today’s list of surprises he supposed. Probably didn’t deserve even that if he was being honest with himself. Definitely didn’t deserve Roy fucking Kent buying him lunch. Jamie knew he was being a dick was the thing. He didn’t know why he did it, just that the phone call had messed him up in the head. But his dad had lied straight to him and then told Jamie that he loved him. He barely even remembered walking back into the gym, just clawed at the anger when he saw Sam to escape that numb feeling that eclipsed him. Unable to stand giving up more ground especially to someone who had no issue with being soft.

Maybe he did know why he did it then.

Jamie scowled as the water cascaded over him. Usually, his thoughts would only be so persistent when he showered alone, especially not here at Richmond, so he chose not to linger. Would rather face hostile teammates than his thoughts any day. But when he went back to his cubby in the dressing room, the team were all out at lunch. He spied Ted through the window into the coach’s office and hoped he could escape onto the pitch without him noticing. But when he zipped up his Richmond hoodie and turned around, Ted was standing in the threshold of his office with his hands in his khaki pockets and a pleasant smile directed right at Jamie.

“Hey, Jamie,” he said in a warm voice.

His tone made Jamie’s stomach drop and had the striker searching the coach’s expression. Ted’s usual easy smile seemed fixed today and didn’t reach his eyes which seemed tight at the corners. He seemed off and it made Jamie nervous.

“Coach,” he said, straightening his shoulders and cocking his head back. Jamie flicked his eyes into the office behind Ted and noted that Beard was gone. Nate wasn’t hanging around either, so it was just him and Ted in the room.

Ted took a few steps forward, stopping right between Jamie and the door. “Hell of day, huh? A true Thursday at its core,” he sighed.

“Bad day,” Jamie said. Not quite a question.

Ted waved his hand. “Ah, it happens. It true you and Roy had a little dust up outside?”

“No, Coach.” Jamie scratched the back of his head. “He bought me lunch,” Jamie found himself saying, the words just tumbling out of his mouth.

Ted’s eyebrows jumped up. “That mean something different over here?”

When Jamie shook his head Ted’s smile turned into something more genuine as he breathed out a soft laugh. Jamie blinked and let his shoulders fall a fraction.

“Well, pin a tail on me and call me a donkey why don’t ya.”

“Uh.”

“When I heard about that little spat in the gym, can’t say that’s what I expected.”

“Me neither, Coach,” Jamie said, thrusting his hands under his shirt and balling them into fists. “Thought we were going outside to fight but just talked instead.”

“Hm, yeah the boys seemed to think that too. Well, I’m mighty relieved you two didn’t come to blows.” Jamie was going to say he would have won if they did but the words wouldn’t push through his teeth. He nodded to the floor instead. “And I wanted to talk with you. Get your side of things. What happened in the gym, I mean.”

“Um, were being a dick to Sam and Arlo.”

“Oh,” Ted exhaled, his eyebrows once again shooting up. “That’s good of you to admit, Jamie.”

He looked pleasantly surprised, enough that the tension he had been carrying when he first walked up to Jamie seemed to fade. It’s not how Jamie was used to their interactions going, the opposite in fact so Jamie chased the opportunity without thought. “Said some things I shouldn’t have, like. Told Sam so. Uh, Dixon weren’t around though. But I’ll see him on the pitch so I can tell him I didn’t mean it. Well, like, he is the slowest on the team, isn’t he? I did mean that. But not the way I said it, like? Um.”

Ted’s eyes crinkled in a smile and then his expression shifted into something Jamie didn’t like. His stomach sank. He should have said what his dad would have wanted to hear, not what he thought Ted might have. He probably thought Jamie was a pathetic wanker.

“I’m real happy to hear you say that. Glad you understand that kind of behaviour ain’t acceptable. But you know, it sounded like a bit of an overreaction when the guys were telling me about it. So, tell me, kiddo, how’s your day going?”

“What?”

Ted was smiling at him, that too kind smile that Jamie had no business being on the receiving end of. It set his teeth on edge.

“Roy talk to you then?”

“Hm nope, haven’t got a chance to speak with him yet. Why d’you ask? Is there something I should know?”

Concern flooded Ted’s eyes, eclipsing the bone deep weariness that had been there before. Concern for Jamie. When Ted himself said he was having a bad day, he was genuinely worried about Jamie. It was there written on his face in big letters. The pull of his eyebrows and the set of his mouth, how the ends of his moustache hung below the corners of his lips in a frown. And the fluorescent lights above hitting his eyes just so that they were clear and twinkling.

Ted had no right. Jamie wasn’t his care about. He wasn’t some pansy who needed pity. He didn’t crave kindness from anyone, certainly not any man and especially not Ted fucking Lasso.

“No!” Jamie spat. “There ain’t nothing wrong, so you and Roy can just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Whoa, okay,” Ted held his hands up. “Didn’t mean no offense, son.”

Something throbbed deep in Jamie’s chest. “Don’t call me that! Ain’t your fucking son. I’m not fucking a million miles away, am I?”

Ted’s eyes flashed and just like that, his smile became a mask. There was only one way out and that was to push. All his anger and fear swirling in him came out in his voice, venomous and sharp. And loud.

“You wanna pretend to care, why don’t you go back home! You know, to where your boy lives. We don’t even need you here and by the time you go crawling back home you’re going to find that your son don’t need you either.”

Ted broadcasted his shock on his face, and it only twisted the knife in the gaping feeling in Jamie’s chest. It hurt. Pounded with his pulse right into the back of his throat. He took slow steps toward the coach as he spoke and Ted stared down at him, not moving away even as Jamie stepped into his space, words flooding out his mouth like his lips were a broken dam. He couldn’t stop them if he wanted to.

“In fact. He’s better off without you, I reckon. And if you didn’t think so too maybe you wouldn’t have left. Or maybe, hey, maybe you don’t really care about him at all, can tell him you love him all you want but in the end, he ain’t really a person to you, is he? You know it, and I know it. So how’s about you and me make a deal? You get to keep on preaching all of your yee-ha bullshit and in exchange I’ll keep ignoring you cause all you are is some cowboy American fuck who don’t even know the fucking rules of the sport he coaches. Pathetic. You don’t know anything about me, Lasso. Nothing.”

“Got anything else to say, Jamie?”

“No, that about sums it up.”

He waited a beat for Ted to react but like Roy earlier, didn’t choose to hit him. Instead, he looked away and Jamie shouldered past Ted and fled to the pitch where a biting wind cut straight through his sleeves. No one was around to see so Jamie slumped on the bench and bowed his head, clutching at his hair and digging his elbows into his thighs. Guilt slammed into Jamie’s throat and squeezed in a vice grip. A long, muted groan ripped out from his chest. It was cold out and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking or his thoughts from racing either. He couldn’t get Ted’s wounded expression out of his head. In the moment it felt like he had meant every last word but now, out on the pitch regret settled like a bitter taste in the back of his mouth.

Something was wrong with him. It was the only explanation. To be met with kindness from not only Ted but Roy and Sam and to throw it back in the coach’s face like it was something vile could only mean that Jamie wasn’t right. His mum would be so ashamed. His dad would too if he knew how Jamie was reacting to putting people in their place as he would call it. And Keeley. Fuck, he could imagine her eyes round with sadness and so very green. She’d never take him back now. She called him unaccountable.

“Fuck!” He hissed.

Jamie sprang up and started jumping up and down, doing high knees in a quick tempo. Then he started running. He made it to three laps around the pitch before the sharp sound of a whistle stopped him in his tracks. At the other end of the pitch stood Ted, wearing his puffer coat now and angled Jamie’s way. With his heart leaping right up into his throat, Jamie couldn’t move for a moment until his body knocked itself in gear for him. Jamie jogged towards Ted but slowed when he approached, unable to take the extra steps that would place him in arm’s reach.

“I wasn’t quite done talking to you, Jamie,” Ted stated in a low voice.

He waited for Ted to go on, breathing heavily from his run and barely even paying a glance to Nate who passed behind them with his head turned in the entirely other direction carrying a pile of yellow vests.

“Now, have whatever feelings you wanna have toward me, hate me, dislike me, that’s fine. But out here, and in there, I’m your coach and I’m not going to let you talk to me like that. Because I deserve respect. Just like you won’t hear me talk to you like that, cause you deserve respect. Now, I gotta admit your words cut me pretty deeply there but I’m going to choose to forgive you for that.”

Jamie’s eyes snapped up to find Ted’s and his earlier exhaustion came back heavier than before.

“Going forward, I’m going to need a real hard attitude adjustment from you, and I ain’t asking this time. You hear me?” Jamie nodded, unable to rouse his voice. “Good,” Ted said and made to turn away. Back to where Roy and Beard were chatting a few yards down.

Jamie didn’t know what possessed him, but he rushed forward. “Wait, coach.”

Ted turned back faster than Jamie anticipated, with raised eyebrows and a pressed together frown. He couldn’t help flinching back a step and raising his palms out placatingly. “Don’t hate you,” he mumbled, chewed his lip and took a deep breath before looking at a point past Ted’s ear. Jamie caught Roy’s gaze in his periphery and steeled himself.

“What I said to you. I- I’m sorry. I… look, I’m sorry. You asked me how me day was and…and I know it ain’t no excuse. I got a call from… got a call earlier and I took it out on you. I didn’t mean- I dunno why I said all that.” He fell quiet in case Ted wanted him to shut up. He didn’t think the coach would backhand him like it looked like he wanted to but it always best to play it safe in his experience. Jamie gentled his tone too. “You seem like a good dad, Ted and… I guess I dunno what that’s like cause mine’s a bit…yeah.”

Ted lost some of the frostiness in his eyes and- how did he do that? Jamie faltered, unable to look at Ted and accidently finding Roy again. He was walking down the pitch with Beard, back straight and shoulders back. Strong. Jamie took a breath.

“And I see you talking to your son and you look at him like- well I can see you love- can see how much you care about him. Just, just what I said, I don’t think it were all about you? Might have been projectoring on you a bit. And maybe you’re like a shit coach but it weren’t fair to you what I said. Ah, no that’s not- you’re not shit. Well not… Uh, I regret sayin’ all that s-so… So… I’m sorry. Really. I don’t- I don’t hate you. Sorry, Ted.” His eyes flitted about looking at everywhere but at the coach where he couldn’t seem to get them to land.

“Hm. Well, thank you, Jamie. And for what its worth, I don’t hate you either,” Ted said in a soft tone of voice.

Jamie searched for a lie in Ted’s eyes and couldn’t find it. Guilt pulled his neck down. “It’s okay if you did.”

“Hey, well I don’t.”

Jamie sort of wished he did. He shrugged and they stood there in silence for a long moment.

“Jamie, do you know that expression, hurt people hurt people?”

He ran over the words in his head, pouting before and then after he understood what Ted was getting at. He was too tired to feel angry. “I ain’t hurt,” Jamie said, scrunching his eyebrows together.

Ted smiled and it was a sad little thing under his mustache. “Well, my door is always open if you want to talk, you know that. But for now, why don’t you go stretch it out over there before practice?”

Jamie followed his nod to where the team was stretching in a scattered group on the pitch. “Yes, Coach. And thanks.”

A scrimmage was just what he needed right now. He wouldn’t have to think, just go. On his way there, Nate came up and handed him the last yellow vest in his hand.

“Shirts today,” he mumbled.

Jamie took it without a word and the kitman scurried away as if burnt after. Normally, that would make Jamie feel pleased- knowing that the kitman knew Jamie was above him in the picking order. But in this moment the unease in Nate’s dark eyes made Jamie feel a bit sick. He forced his feet forward over the pitch and fit the yellow vest over his grey hoodie as he walked to find the Greyhounds had split themselves down the middle. Jamie drifted to the yellow side, coming to stand beside Dixon.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Tartt.” Arlo’s tone was uncertain.

Jamie summoned a smirk and said, “Good thing we’re on the same team, eh? I’m fast enough for the both of us.” It was more olive branch than apology, but he didn’t have more in him right now. He should have guessed Dixon’s reaction based on how the day was going, but it surprised him nonetheless.

“Yeah, and it’s unnatural,” he said and nodded toward the skins. “Think we can take ‘em? I want to crush Reynolds again.”

Jamie found the tall center back where he was glaring Dixon’s way. Most of the lads there wouldn’t be trouble like Roberts and Winchester but McAdoo, Hughes, and Cockburn along with Montlaur could be an issue. But not, as Jamie assessed his side, anything to worry about. They had Roy, Bumbercatch, and him. Jamie’s smile turned genuine as he started doing calf raises.

“Easy,” he told Dixon right before the whistle went off in a series of short bursts.

Beard’s raised voice cut through the Greyhound’s chatter. “Eleven v eleven, two minutes!”

“Alright, huddle up!” Roy barked. They moved to surround the captain in a circle of yellow vests. He stood with his arms wide at his sides, the short grey sleeves of his Richmond shirt rippling as a gust of wind flew through the pitch. “Their defence is going to be hard to break but not if we slam the fuck through it. It’s going to take teamwork, and Tartt, listen up but this goes for all of you- mark your fucking teammates. Lasso wants us to do the 4-1-3-2. Two strikers,” he said, pointing to Jamie and Sam. “Keep the ball moving and don’t fucking embarrass me. Got a problem with that, Obisanya?”

The defender had sucked in a breath. “Me as striker?”

“Rojas is coming back in a few weeks and you’re fast like him. Need to start drilling it. Now, if you’re done bitching..?”

Jamie recognized the name. Dani Rojas, the striker he had been brought in to replace.

“Oh, uh, yes. Yes, captain.”

Roy nodded. “Alright. Kill ‘em on three.”

He stuck his arm out with his hand splayed, eyes on Jamie as the Greyhounds put their hands in. Maybe it was because of lunch or Obisanya and Dixon sort of accepting his non apology and Ted accepting his real apology that had Jamie putting his hand in too. Normally he would roll his eyes and skip away, hating the feel of body heat around him and hands touching but today had been enough of a battle so far. Goodman’s hand was warm under his and when Roy brought down his other palm on top of Jamie’s knuckles to close the huddle, he felt the ache in his chest bleeding since the gym fade away a little. Too soon Roy started the countdown, and they all chanted on three.

“Kill ‘em!”

Once the whistle blew, Jamie threw himself into the scrimmage. All his nervous energy came out through his legs as he tore down the pitch. Roy had said slam through them, so that’s what Jamie would do. And mark his teammates. Jamie looked to find Roy dribbling the ball back in center field, sending it up to Bumbercatch as Montlaur came charging at him. Jamie doubled back, sticking his tongue out at Reynolds who chased after him. He kept himself on the move, waiting on the fringes as they traded possession back and forth in midfield. Then finally Hughes shot across to Roberts but it went too wide. He put on a burst of speed, but Jamie was faster. He stole the ball and took it up field, saw Isaac coming from a mile away and spun around him as he went for the tackle. Cockburn tore off of Obisanya to intercept Jamie from midfield. Up ahead, Montlaur and Reynolds were coming at him with Winchester not far off and Isaac was hot on Jamie’s heels. He could take the shot from here and risk it, he’d have to do it in the next second before the path was blocked or he could thread the needle. Make the extra pass like Ted kept telling him to do. Ted who said that his door was always open even after Jamie yelled at him.

What kind of player do you want to be? Roy had asked him last match.

Roy was coming up the pitch but not fast enough and Obisanya was unmarked and close to where he needed to be. Jamie didn’t shoot. He drove forward, legs pumping so he could nutmeg Montlaur and Reynolds and then Roberts right after. He could still make the shot if he did it now. He reared his leg back and lobbed it with the side of his foot, straight across the field to where Sam controlled it down and sent it flying into the net. Zoreaux never even had a chance to see it coming.

Jamie made the extra pass. The eruption of noise from the Greyhounds, those in yellow vests and not, were all surprise. Sam was laughing with Zoreaux, hanging off each other and jumping up and down. The breeze cut through the sweat beading on the sides of his face as Jamie stared at the net. He waited to feel shame, but it didn’t come.

Before he could name what exactly he was feeling he felt a strong grip on the back of his neck. He knew it was Roy before he even turned around and couldn’t stop from beaming if he tried.

“You’re full of fucking surprises,” Roy said. He had a crooked smile on his face as he gave Jamie a gentle shake. Jamie grinned, pure delight warming him up from the inside. Today might have started shit but Roy Kent was clapping him on the back and honest to God smiling at him for a play he made. Almost a literal dream come true if he had scored himself, but he was still well chuffed about it. He couldn’t not be with the way Roy’s hand was resting on the back of his neck and the man’s pleased smile making Jamie’s stomach do cartwheels.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Grandad,” Jamie said and Roy rolled his eyes.

“Woo, Jamie!” Ted yelled, “Way to make that extra pass, bud!”

They both looked to where Ted was holding two thumbs up and grinning like a maniac. Roy scoffed while Jamie tamped down on a surprised laugh.

“Nice pass, Tartt. Keep it up.” He squeezed the back of his neck and then jogged off toward Sam. This might be the best day of his life actually. Jamie grinned at Roy’s back. Maybe this passing lark wouldn’t be so bad after all. What his dad didn’t know couldn’t hurt him and it was just for training, besides.

“Bruv, that was wicked,” Isaac laughed from behind him.

“Oh, thanks, man,” Jamie said, searching Isaac’s face and was pleased to see that it was lacking the animosity he’d been carrying around all week. Because he was on some kind of roll and felt disconnected enough from his own head, Jamie stopped Isaac from walking forward. “Hey, about what I said at the match,” Jamie said, “Uh, sorry.”

Isaac tilted his head. “Buy my drinks tonight and we’ll call it square.”

“You got it, mate,” Jamie said with a grin.

“Jamie, Jamie!”

Sam was bounding toward him with a blinding grin on his face that Jamie found himself responding to with a smile of his own.

“What’d you think of that, eh?”

“Oh my gosh, that was amazing! I was hoping you’d pass but I didn’t think you would, but you did, and I can’t believe I scored. Ah, I felt that one in my penis!”

Jamie’s shout of laughter was loud and had Sam beaming at him. He put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and left it there, speaking in an earnest voice.

“That was a truly excellent pass. Thank you for trusting me with the goal.”

He wasn’t sure he’d go that far but the earnestness in Sam’s voice stopped Jamie’s knee-jerk reaction to wipe the smile off his face. There was gratitude in Sam’s eyes and a little bit of hesitation hiding behind it but no resentment which Jamie found himself suspicious of. He swerved out of Sam’s grasp and smirked.

“Don’t get used to it, yeah?”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Too late, my friend.”

Jamie watched him trot off. Friend. He was surrounded by bleeding hearts and suddenly felt unbalanced as he couldn’t remember why that was a bad thing. The shrill pitch of the whistle banished what would have been a spiral and Jamie gave his head a shake for good measure. Focusing back on the match, he felt a boost of energy come over him that carried him into the second half. By then he was in good spirits, everything forgotten but the ground under his feet and the winter air biting his skin. That pass he made had seemingly cleared the air of the long-seated tension that had flared last match at Wolverhampton. It was as he spun out Colin with a split-second pivot did he realize that he was having the most fun playing with Richmond since he came here. Colin skidded on the grass trying to match him but lost his balance with a high-pitched shout that had Jamie burst out laughing. The cold air whistled by him as he sprinted to get open and Jamie cast his eyes down the pitch to see Roy just as the captain’s foot connected with the ball with a loud thump.

It was sailing right to Jamie. He couldn’t believe it. His brain was stuck screaming that Roy Kent was passing the ball to him as his body reacted on its own, moving to receive it in a smooth dribble. He ran faster, faked out Isaac and then broke away. It was just him and Zoreaux now.

Jamie reared his right leg back and swung hard. The ball sank into the net, but Jamie was already running back to his side with his arms in the air cheering.

-

The lads whooped in victory as Jamie missiled the ball passed Zoreaux's outstretched fingers. Roy slowed out of his jog to a walk and favoured one leg, feeling a pulsing ache in his knee. He wasn’t frowning though. That was a fun scrimmage.

Jamie, knowing the ball would sink home as soon as it left his foot had prematurely started running back towards midfield where the rest of the team met him in a tangle of jumping limbs. Roy didn’t have a lot to be proud of these days, but he felt a sense of accomplishment looking at Tartt. Roy had been thrilled when he made the pass to Obisanya early in the first half. Patted his own back for all the patience it took to preach teamwork to the prick. He hadn’t expected it would be like a dam being broken. For Tartt to keep up passing the entire scrimmage. The team was buzzing.

“Ahh, fuckin’ mad!” Jamie was jumping up and down with Jeff.

His brown hair was windswept and light eyes sparkling. No sign of the strange melancholy from earlier on his beaming face. Jamie’s eyes found Roy’s and crinkled at the corners as his grin became impossibly wider, a real smile that suited his face more than the fake ones Roy was used to from him. He might have thought it captivating if he was being honest with himself.

“Ah, good match, Roy.” Isaac approached with his arm outstretched and a hopeful glint in his dark eyes.

“Yeah, you too,” he said and gripped Isaac’s hand. A grin bigger than Jamie’s even, graced the lad’s face and Roy rolled his eyes trying to stifle a smirk. Idiots, the lot of them. He wanted nothing more than to retreat inside and ice his knee, but he made his way to the team with Isaac instead where Roy handed out critiques and even some compliments to the lads until Lasso brought them to attention. The coach waited until Nate had collected all the vests before addressing them all.

“Well, was that fun or what?” He asked, nodding when the team sounded the affirmative.

“There’s lots of things that I love about being a coach. Seeing you fine gentlemen grow and change on the pitch and off of it, well… it’s something. And today has made me real proud. Showed me y’all want to fight for what we are building here. Cause, fellas, we’ve been broken, we need to change.”

Roy raised his chin and really looked at Ted. He was serious, about to say the quiet part out loud if Roy was to guess, and the lads were hanging on his every word. Even Jamie who Roy noted with mild surprise was standing right beside him.

“And look, I know change can be scary. One minute you’re playing freeze tag out there at recess with all your buddies, next thing you know, you’re getting zits, your voice gets low. And every time your art teacher Ms. Scanlon leans over your desk to check and see how your project’s going you feel all swiggly inside. Hm... She was a striking woman. Not classically beautiful but striking. First time I ever saw tan lines.” Ted raised his eyebrows and drew out an easy laugh from the Greyhounds before carrying on in a serious tone and starting to look Jamie’s way more often. “Most of the time change is a good thing. Now I think that’s what it’s all about. Embracing change. Being brave. Becoming the best versions of ourselves. And I think what we’ve seen from y’all today is the start of something great.”

Ted scanned the team and winked in Roy and Jamie’s direction before raising his voice again. “Now, why don’t y’all boogey on over to the showers and call it day. See you in the AM, same time tomorrow.”

“Yes, Coach!” The team chorused and headed back toward the dressing room.

Roy followed at a slow pace, listening to the men chatter to try and distract from the pain in his knee. He could see what Ted was saying to the younger players, but the change Roy was doing his best to deny, he had no intention of embracing. Walking helped a bit but by the time he was done showering and changing all Roy wanted to do was go home and ice his knee. The festering pit in his gut that held all his anxiety about his career felt deeper than ever. Physio was doing less and less to help now and the question of how long he could keep going like this rang around in his head until he was the only one left in the dressing room. Or he thought he was. When he had gathered his duffel bag and turned to leave, blocking his path out the door stood Jamie, dressed in a nondescript black jacket and distressed grey jeans. He must have stayed behind to wait for him after everyone else cleared out. Roy let out a short grunt and raised an eyebrow.

“Ain’t feeling sick are you?” Jamie said, “cause you passed to me?” He had a smirk on his face and a wide stance. Roy would have thought Jamie was taunting him if not for the fact he didn’t seem to want to make eye contact for long. His lunch time interrogation of the striker had illuminated a few things for Roy- one of them being that for as much as Tartt loved to be looked at, he couldn’t stand to be seen.

Roy paused against the impulse to snap. His knee hurt. He had enough to worry about without adding a Manc pretty boy to the list. But now that he knew that this was Jamie trying to connect, he didn’t want to fuck it up. As much as he wanted to be left alone right now, Jamie’s behaviour today had left a bad enough taste in his mouth for Roy to remember some perspective.

“Guess it wasn’t so bad after all,” Roy said and sighed. “Doesn’t hurt that you followed it up with a pretty goal.”

“Yeah?” Jamie’s smirk grew into a momentary grin before he could wrangle it down. “I mean, yeah it was.”

“Fuck you, you know it was.”

“You’re right. Wise in your old age.”

Roy only realized a smile had been on his face after his lips plummeted downward. Jamie wasn’t looking at him to see that though. His eyes were on his crimson trainers as he opened his mouth again and Roy felt the valiant hold he had on his temper about to slip at whatever old age joke Jamie was about to attempt.

“We’re all going out, later. To Silver,” he said in a rush, stopping Roy out of a tirade he didn’t know had been coming. “It’s a club. You should come. Drinks on me? Can pay you back for lunch. It’ll be fun.”

He let the question sit while his eyes skipped around the dressing room. Roy’s first instinct was to deliver a resounding fuck no. But as out of tune with his own emotions as other people’s, the hope in Tartt’s skirting eyes was obvious to even him.

“I can’t,” Roy said, “watching my niece tonight.”

“Oh, yeah okay.”

Roy rolled his eyes. While he had used Phoebe as an excuse too many times to count to get out of social engagements, he wouldn’t have done that this time. Not when he had been so close to making some headway with Tartt today. But then he had run away before Roy could discover anything. Even though Roy knew, he knew that Jamie had wanted to confide in him. Now that he had spent time studying it, Jamie’s face was an open book. He wore every emotion on his sleeve and his poker face was shit. Like now, his features were unnervingly blank. His sharp brows were smooth and his pouty lips an even pink line, trying to hide the clear disappointment in his flighty eyes.

“Yeah, her name is Phoebe. She’s six.”

“Oh!” Jamie looked up hopefully. “She’s old enough to be on her own then.” Roy rolled his eyes and scoffed at the poor attempt of a joke. “Ha, kidding. Well, uh, maybe next time then.”

“Sure.”

“Mint. ‘Kay.” Jamie knocked on the door frame and made to leave.

“Oi, Jamie. Any one of you fuckers come in hungover tomorrow, I’ll make all of you regret it.”

Jamie stuck his tongue out at him in that stupid way he did that made Roy’s stomach flip in annoyance. “Aye, aye, skipper.”

Roy watched his back until he disappeared out of view, and he could walk to the car park with an unsteady gait in peace. When he got to his truck he frowned at another unexpected visitor.

“What do you want?” He growled at Ted.

The coach smiled at him. Leaning off the driver’s side door and stepping aside. “Hey, Roy. Heard about you buying Jamie lunch earlier. Gotta say, real classy move, Captain.”

Roy grunted and opened his car door to throw his bag in.

“Hey,” Ted said in a lowered tone so unlike him that Roy didn’t climb into the car right away. He stood with his hand on the door but his feet were planted on the ground turned toward the coach. “Be straight with me, Jamie seem okay to you?”

Roy raised his chin up. “Why you asking that?”

“Well, I heard about what happened in the gym. And then I asked Jamie how he was doing and he dang near bit my head off. Really came at me with his teeth. I gotta say too, I’ve noticed you’re sort of keeping an eye on him and I thought at first you were looking for a fight all week but that don’t seem to be the case to me anymore.”

Roy crossed his arms. His eyebrows came down and the muscle in jaw started shifting around. Ted was clearly a sore subject for Jamie. If he found out Roy had discussed him with Ted any trust Roy had managed to salvage would be ruined. And what would he even say? That Roy had a feeling that Jamie was dealing with something he couldn’t even name? On the other hand, the more people looking out for him the better in case Roy was on to something after all.

“You think something’s going on with him too, huh?” Ted asked before he could reply.

Roy hid a grimace, not pleased that Ted could read him. “Yeah. Could be nothing.”

“Hm.”

“Could be… not nothing. I dunno.”

“What do you think it is?”

Roy thought about it. “Fuckin’ don’t know exactly. Just… a feeling. Should maybe keep an eye on him.”

“Well, call me Sting then ‘cause I’ll be watching him.”

“Every move he makes?” Roy asked rolling his eyes and fighting a smirk.

Ted lit up. “Every breath he takes. Yeah, Roy!”

Roy breathed a sigh of relief. Even though he hadn’t known Ted for very long, he was inexplicably glad the American was here.

“And hey, thank you for looking out for our baby shark. Think he could use a role model like you.”

Roy offered a grunt in reply, lingered under Ted’s gaze a little longer and then climbed into his truck. He left Nelson Road behind and drove east. The setting sun pierced through gaps in the buildings, reflecting in his rear-view mirror as he drove through traffic, but it was only half the reason he was squinting the whole way to his sister’s house. He didn’t think he should be a role model to anyone, least of all Jamie Tartt. On the pitch, absolutely, but off it, Roy wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know how to approach Jamie. It wasn’t in Roy’s nature to be subtle. He threw himself entirely into everything he did. It was either 0 or 100 with him. If he didn’t care about something, it flew off his radar- something his last girlfriend could attest to. But if he did care then he was all in, which his knee was a constant reminder of.

Maybe he could try Keeley for information again. That morning earlier this week, when by a stroke of luck he ran into her, she had immediately asked about him and Jamie rooming together in Wolverhampton. She had been entirely too curious, but he had pushed through to chase the opportunity her presence supplied, and it had been surprisingly easy to turn the conversation where he wanted. The way she told anecdotes it felt like he could never get tired of hearing her talk and he never thought he'd be so invested in one about Jamie falling asleep at the theater. She had breezed by the fact Jamie had nightmares since according to her they never amounted to much and then Jamie interrupted them before Roy could ask about any strange behaviour. Talking to them both had honestly been the highlight of his day, but it had effectively distracted him. A fact he was regretting because now he was starting to get worried, and it was knocking down every single wall he erected in his brain to not be bothered by the striker from Manchester.

Talking to Jamie at lunch had been a good call, Roy thought, but then he’d gone and ruined it by pushing too hard. Jamie was like a stray dog, come at it too fast and it would bite your hand off. Roy could only hope that whatever influence that he had on Jamie would do him some good because Roy was starting to get concerned there was potential to fuck up here.

“Oi, Phoebe, what kind of dog you think Jamie Tartt would be?”

Behind him in the backseat, Phoebe peered out the window. She was munching on the remains of her ice cream cone and considered the question with more gravity than it was due.

“Hm I much prefer cats,” she said, “but it’s hard to guess. What’s he like?”

“He’s an apathetic shit fucker.”

“Oh! Just like Mrs. Kaminski’s dog. She always barks at me when we go to the park. And Mrs. Kaminski says that she’s more scared of me than I am of her but, Uncle Roy, that’s a load of shit if you ask me.”

Roy glared at her from the rear-view mirror. “Who the fuck is Mrs. Kaminksy and where does she live?”

Phoebe launched into an explanation wherein Roy took away that Princess the fucking Rottweiler with teeth bigger than his niece was actually a good girl but had chased a cat in front of Phoebe once and that was the end of that relationship. And since Roy would rather her be wary around big dogs, he didn’t plead the case for Princess. Looking down at Phoebe later after putting her to bed, she looked so small. Her little face was peaceful as she slept, golden from the pom pom fairy lights lining the canopy bed. She was precious, curled up under the puffy turquoise blanket with her blonde hair around her like a halo. Roy felt that warm feeling overtake his chest and he couldn’t resist laying another goodnight kiss on her forehead before leaving.

He left the candy-striped wallpapered walls of Phoebe’s room at his house and ducked out into the dark hallway, cursing in his head. More scared of Phoebe than Phoebe was of it. What bull shit was that. He had half a mind to call his sister, get this lady’s address and go fucking tell her to mind her dog when Roy’s niece was around. Roy tried throwing on the television to distract from the always looming but suddenly overwhelming fear of Phoebe navigating a world that could hurt her- from scary dogs, to school, to her dad, and fuck in a few years she’d have access to the internet. Well not if Roy had anything to do with it. No phones for Phoebe ever. He went and worked himself into a bad mood that didn’t abate until hours later after catching up on the latest episode of Love Dealer, the trashiest matchmaking show he’d come across to date. There was even a smirk on his face which dropped off when his phone vibrated on the couch arm rest. In the dark with only the flickering television light to see by, his phone screen seared his vision when he looked at it.

Expecting to see his sister’s name on the display, Roy frowned at finding a list of messages from an unfamiliar number. Roy had no idea who would try to be calling him so late until he spied the Manchester area code and scowled.

[Unknown number] Hey Grandad! We at greenoush now you shpuld hurry up ND jo9n us

[Unknown number] Hreenhouse

[Unknown number] Greenhouse

Roy recalled that he had never bothered to save Jamie’s number as another two texts came in on top of each other.

[Unknown number] Its Jamie we are at greenjouuse

[Unknown number] Jamie tarrt

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Roy heaved a long sigh and turned off the television. He’d have to find out if Leo and Vi would resolve their completely avoidable fight tomorrow. Just before Roy was going to press the call button, his phone lit up and started vibrating as an incoming call came in. Roy sighed as he levered down the leather recliner with his legs.

“What?”

The sound of a busy street filtered in through the phone. Cars honking and people calling out along with the far-off thumping of club music, then Jamie’s voice yelled out from a distance.

“Lads, lads! It’s Roy! Roy Kent is calling me, look!”

“What the fuck,” Roy mumbled to himself.

A jumble of voices waved over the line as Jamie continued talking, clearly not realizing Roy had answered the call.

“Tartt, you’re on the fucking line.”

“I texted ‘im ‘n now he’s calling me can you believe that?”

“Tartt!” Roy growled, careful not to be so loud as to wake Phoebe. He hurried to the front hall and peered up the winding staircase, waiting to see if the light came on in Pheobe’s room.

“No, no!” That was Colin’s voice.

“Whoa, whoa, ‘s me phone. S’mine, Colin.”

“Don’t answer it, bruv!” Isaac called, sounding just as inebriated as the other two.

Satisfied that his niece still seemed to be sleeping, Roy retreated back down the hall and stole through the dining room into the kitchen, the furthest point from the staircase. “I can hear you idiots,” he hissed.

“What?” Jamie sounded aghast. “I can’t not answer it, mate.”

“Jamie, no!” Colin cried and then there was a rustling sound loud in Roy’s ear that made him wince. When he spoke next his voice was closer. “Jus’ let go of the phone, boyo.”

“‘M no. Gotta answer.” Jamie didn’t sound like himself. Not only drunk but there was no edge to his tone. No aggression. Roy wondered how many vanilla vodkas he had.

“No, we’re going to get in trouble.”

Their voices kept alternating in volume like the phone was being pushed and pulled. “Someone fucking answer me,” Roy said.

“Oh no!”

Roy startled at Jamie’s wail. “What the fuck happened?”

“It stopped ringing. Shit, Colin he’s gonna be so mad. Wha’ f’ he don’t call back?”

Colin’s breathing was loud over the line. “Jamie, Jamie, focus. We don’t want him to call back. He can’t know we’re fucking plastered on a Thursday.”

“Hughes, I’m going to rip your fucking arms off. Hello?”

“We’ve gone out on a Thursday before though,” Jamie said.

“Yeah but now Roy gives a shit,” Isaac pointed out, “gone all super captain.”

“He passed to me,” Jamie said and then burped.

“Yeah, bruv, you’ve only mentioned that like a thousand times tonight.”

Roy grew amused despite himself. He supposed he could try hanging up and call back but he was now curious. He wondered if he could convince Lasso to start with suicides tomorrow.

“Uh yeah, cause its Roy Kent. ‘S he ever passed to you?”

“Yes. Now c’mon give Colin the phone.”

“Gotta pry it from me cold, dead, fingers.”

A frustrated groan from Colin and the sound of another scuffle before a loud sigh. “Okay fine, fine. Here’s what’s gonna hap- hic- happen. You’re gunna use that pretty mouth of yours and lie through your teeth. ‘Ow’s your sober voice?”

“Uh it’s floss. Look. ‘kay, look. I’m so fuckin’ sober, I’m so fucking sober, bruv.”

“Aw bet, okay! ‘Kay tell him, uh tell him—”

“Tell him we’re all at Sam’s place!” Isaac whispered and then started to giggle.

“Okay, okay, ‘ll go like this. Roy. How’re you?” He said and pitched his voice low. “Good, how the fuck’re you?” Then back to his normal voice. “Good! We’re at Sam’s, okay bye.”

“Wow, you could be an actor.”

“Aw, thanks, mate!” Jamie crowed and then cleared his throat. “Ready? I’ll call him.” There was a slight pause and Roy geared up to finally get a word in. “Oh, he called back! ROY! Roy, we’re at Greenhouse, you need to—” Isaac and Colin both shouted in despair. “-Come have fun with us. There’s plants fuckin’ everywhere, it’s mad cool.”

“Tartt, please tell me there’s someone sober with you,” Roy said while rubbing his eyes.

“Uh…sober? Hm…you! If you come out wif’ us. Roy, Roy, we’re at Greenhouse.”

“Oh my God,” Roy sighed. He would have to call Lasso since he couldn’t very well leave Phoebe alone.

“Jamie, listen to me. Who else is there?”

“Issac… Colin… Jeff….” Jamie listed them out slowly, taking an age to say each name. “Sam…and Rich- hey, Sam’s back!”

Roy jumped as something hit the phone and then he could hear Jamie now from afar. “Sam, it’s Roy- Roy’s on the phone.”

More whooshing noises rattled in his ear and then Sam’s voice filtered in clear and steady. “Oh my gosh, Captain. Please tell me you were not sleeping.”

Relief hit him like a wave. “Thank fuck, Obisanya. You sober?”

“Yes, since Jamie insisted on buying drinks for everyone, I thought I should err on the side of caution.”

“Good lad. Are you able to handle them? You all need to get the fuck back to your houses.”

“Yes, Captain. Jeff is putting Colin and Isaac into a taxi as we speak, Richard left with a pretty girl, and I will be taking Jamie home since we actually live near each other.”

Roy made a surprised noise. “Are you fucking friends now?”

“Hm. I don’t know. I will say that he has been very nice to me tonight. It’s quite strange. Although I feel that might be the alcohol talking.”

“Tartt, nice?” Roy didn’t know why he was continuing this conversation now that he was assured of life but curiosity was a bitch, he supposed. “He must be pissed to fuck.”

“I was shocked too. And well, he’s only had three drinks I believe.”

“Fucking figures. Oi, he’s gone quiet. Did you lose him?”

“Ah no, he is hugging Isaac. Turns out he is a very affectionate drunk.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s been quite an evening, Captain. I’m very sorry we have disturbed you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get even tomorrow. And Sam, text me when all of you are home.”

“Yes, I will. Goodnight.”

Roy hung up and shook his head. He sat up in bed and read for the next half hour until Sam messaged and informed him everyone had gotten into their houses safely, including Jamie. The audacity on Tartt, calling Roy in the middle of the night and inviting him out again like they didn’t see each other enough during the day. Thinking about it now, Roy couldn’t deny that a little ember of warmth that started with Jamie arguing with the lads to talk to him, was still stuck in his gut as he turned out the light. He wondered if Jamie had smiled like he did earlier on the pitch when he had heard Roy’s voice on the phone.

That wouldn’t do.

He was Roy Kent and hadn’t had any trouble ignoring that the Mancunian was objectively good looking for months now, so he wouldn’t be starting now. He wasn’t even blonde, as was Roy’s preference, which made it that much easier in his opinion. Content with his reasoning, Roy fell asleep dreaming up how satisfying it would be to make the lads and Jamie especially suffer tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The sun shone brightly over the pitch but unfortunately none of the five miscreants under Roy’s scrutiny were hungover enough to be blinded by it. Not for the first time that day he felt a pang for his younger years. Midmorning drills had finished, and the rest of the team were inside doing yoga but Roy had convinced Ted to let the six of them remain outside so he could make them sorry.

“Did I say you could stop?” Roy shouted. They were all gasping for breath after completing another lap on the pitch. Goodman looked paler than a ghost made worse by the sun firing up his red hair and a hunched over Colin wasn’t faring much better. “Another lap! ‘Cept for you, Obisanya, you deserve a break.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Sam gasped out and lowered to his hands and knees so he could crumple onto his stomach on the grass.

Isaac groaned and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Please, Roy. We need a break- fuckin’ dying here.” Richard and Jamie whined their agreement. Both of them were clutching their sides and nodding.

“Think you pricks deserve a break?”

A loud groan erupted from Jamie. “Fuck, okay! I’m sorry for calling you. Me own fucking fault. Just…we need- can we—” He broke off to swear and brace his hands on his knees.

No sign of his drunken proclivity for Roy’s company now, Roy noticed.

“Don’t give a shit about you calling me,” Roy said.

“Huh?” Jamie gaped at him while the rest made confused noises.

Roy grunted under his breath. “If… you need to call me,” he said, looking up at the sky to take a steadying inhale. “There’s a reason I have a fucking phone. I’m your fucking… captain. And if any of you need me for any fucking reason, I’ll fucking answer. There. Understand?”

He watched the lads look cautiously at each other before Isaac took the lead. “But you said having your number is a privilege, not a right.”

Roy nodded. “Abuse it, you lose it. But you little idiots are professional footballers. You have a responsibility to show up to work and give it your fucking all. Doing anything to jeopardize that, like say, staying out partying till the small hours of the fucking morning is why you’re going to be running till you puke your fucking guts out.”

“C’mon,” Jamie said, “a bit like the pot calling the kettle, innit?”

His glare twitched as Roy slowly turned to look at him but then Jeff spoke up. “What constitutes as abuse of phone privileges?”

“Use your fucking brain and figure it the fuck out.”

Obisanya propped himself up on his elbows and squinted up at him. “What if we forget how to tie a tie?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “I’ll allow that.”

Jeff pursed his lips. “If we need lady advice?”

“Absolutely not,” Roy said while Jamie perked up.

“Or like, if we’re dead bored and can’t decide what to watch on Netflix and we need your opinion?”

“Fuck no.”

“But—”

“No.”

“What if we get into a car accident and Isaac’s not answering his phone?”

“Ugh, bruv! That was one time,” Isaac said and threw his arms up in the air in Colin’s direction.

A long sigh flowed loudly out of Roy’s mouth. “Obviously, Hughes.”

Montlaur cleared his throat. “What if we upset a British model and do not know the customs for getting her back?”

“No.”

“But what if she has very nice chest?”

Roy had to contemplate that one since he knew the types of women Richard went out with. All eyes swiveled to him as he thought.

 “How nice?” Colin piped up.

Richard looked down and cupped his hands a decent way away from his chest. The lads erupted into giggles and cheers for their teammate while Roy gave his head a shake. “If her boobs are the only reason you want to get back with her then she’s already moved on to someone better,” Roy snapped. “Now, enough stalling. Give me another lap. Go!”

He drove them into the ground so by the time the day ended most of them had booked it for the door. Not Sam though, he was sitting at his cubby with arms resting on his knee and a big smile on his face. And it’s not like Roy had gone that easy on him because while he had been sober, he had still been out late. He nodded in approval on his way from the showers to his own stall.

It was loud in the room even with the absence of Isaac, Colin, and Richard and Roy was occupied with pulling his shirt over his head, so he didn’t hear Jamie. But he did hear Sam’s guarded voice to his left.

“…wasn’t any trouble, really. I was glad to help.”

Roy fiddled with his watch and surveyed with a surreptitious eye as Jamie folded his hands inside the bottom of his shirt. “I’ve been nothing but shit to you, why you being so nice?” He sounded angry and Sam seemed to think so too. His eyes were glued to the floor and the smile that had been there before Jamie walked over sank downward.

“You have been quite shit to me, yes. I’ve never had a teammate that made me feel so bad about myself in the way that you have. But…you did apologize yesterday. Several times over the course of the night, actually.” Jamie shifted on his feet and looked around in a blasé manner like his ears weren’t turning pink. Roy smirked down at his watch as Sam went on. “Perhaps if you work at being a better teammate like today and yesterday, we can put our differences behind us.”

“Pfft,” Jamie said, “Yeah whatever, but that didn’t answer my question.”

Sam crossed his arms. “It was also nice to have had a personalized concert from the passenger seat the whole way home.”

Tartt jumped. “Nah, you were the one singing, mate. It- it was fucking Adele, you can’t not sing along to Adele.”

“You have a lovely singing voice, Jamie.”

“Don’t you tell anyone,” he hissed.

“Let me drive your Aston Martin and I’ll consider it.” 

From the corner of his eye, Roy took in Obisanya in a new light while Jamie made a scandalized noise. “You serious?”

“Oh yes.”

Jamie gave a theatrical sigh. “Fuckin’ devious little bastard. When you want to give her a spin, then?”

“How about after next match?”

“…And then after, not a fucking word to anyone.”

“Yes, okay. We can listen to more Adele.”

Amused out of trying to be sneaky in his eavesdropping, Roy gave up all pretense and turned his head with a smirk to see Tartt fleeing out the dressing room. “That was fucking hilarious.”

Sam jumped. “Oh, Roy. Were you eavesdropping?”

“ ‘Course I was. Was too entertaining not to. Didn’t know you had that in you, Sam.”

“Ha. Well, it’s harder to be intimated by someone once you know they become a teddy bear after two sips of alcohol.”

“You sure you weren’t drinking?”

“I wouldn’t have believed it either if I had not been there to see it,” Sam laughed. “And harder to believe, he was weirdly sweet. It was very strange.” Roy grunted as an image of Jamie’s face the night they roomed together in Wolverhampton swam in his mind’s eye- when he woke the lad from a nightmare and was gifted a sleepy smile under warm half-lidded eyes. “But he has given me quite a lot of grief so it’s nice that I now have some ammunition.”

Roy bobbed his head in agreement. Later that night he fell asleep wondering what else he didn’t know about Jamie Tartt.

-

This week had been a real Lasso Mindgames Special. Jamie scowled at the parked cars lining the street in front of him with his hands jammed in his pockets. Everyone was acting weird at Richmond. Roy most especially and he'd gone and infected everyone else. Jamie knew that Lasso was a headcase already but not Roy Kent. He was actually being what was considered for him, nice, in his own prickly way. And now the entire team was following his and Lasso’s lead, harping on teamwork and kumbaya and shit. Sure, he had gotten wrapped up in it too, passing during training for that one scrimmage and it had been fun. Really fun. And going out with the lads later that night had been a blast despite getting coerced into having too much to drink.

Even Sam, the kid Jamie thought was a spineless drag turned out to be funny of all things. And nice. Getting him home when he could have taken a cab, especially after all the shit Jamie had given him over the months. Something like guilt wormed around in his stomach and he pushed it down, choosing to think about the abysmal day he had at training today.

All Jamie did was be amazing. He knew he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box but couldn’t understand how they expected him to start passing when he was the best and got all angry when he didn’t. Usually, Jamie didn’t care what they thought. But today, the longer Jamie kept the ball to himself where it belonged, the more upset the team got. Lasso with his stupid mustache and disappointed eyes, Roy yelling at him more than usual, and Sam. Fucking Sam with his hurt eyes like Jamie kicked a puppy. It bothered him. Jamie didn’t much care for delving into his feelings, didn’t have to. But leaving the dressing room being given the cold shoulder made him realize that he was upset. About what he didn’t exactly know so here he was, leaning against his car in the cold waiting on the smartest person he knew.

Keeley came walking across the street like a ray of sunshine though her face was like a thundercloud. Dressed in all black, she looked comfortable in a big black hoodie that was closed up to her chest and showed off some shoulder and her halter top. Jamie wanted to put his hands on her hips and play with the zipper running down her thigh.

“Hi, Jamie,” she called. Jamie barely heard her over the train rumbling across the bridge behind them. A breeze cut through the street and Keeley barely reacted except for crossing her arms below her chest.

Jamie huffed as she got closer. “Babe, I said it was important. What, we can’t go inside your house?”

“No way we can’t,” she said emphatically and came to lean next to him against his car. “Sex was like the only thing we was good at. I’ve had three glasses of wine, it’s Pavlovian.”

Jamie made a face and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Pavlovian what is that? Is-is that that the wine?” It didn’t sound like a wine. More like a dinosaur era or something but that made even less sense. Keeley just stared at him with her green eyes. “Babe, can’t we at least get inside me car? It’s cold.”

“No! You don’t remember how many times we’ve shagged in this thing?”

Squinting, Jamie thought about it. “So, the cars also Pavlovian? Think I’m getting it now.”

Keeley laughed. “So, what’s up, Jamie?”

“Fuckin’ Ted lasso,” Jamie said. His mood at seeing Keeley sank right back down.

“Oh, he’s really crawled up your bum hasn’t he?” Keeley grinned.

“Babe he’s not even a real coach!” Jamie cried, “Like I passed in training once and now he wants me to do it all the time? Acting all like I took a shit on his doorstep ‘cause I were focusing on me today.”

“Okay, well it’s a team sport isn’t it?”

“I’m a striker.”

“Don’t other strikers pass though?” Keeley asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah. But I’m Jamie Tartt. I’m not like everyone else.” Jamie leaned away from the car to face Keeley. “D’you think that I could have got from a council estate in north Manchester to the premier league if I did what everyone else did?”

“No. I don’t,” she said, “you’re a battler Jamie. It’s really hot.” Keeley nudged his shoulder and then stepped away from the car, her tone going from light to exasperated as she said, “But maybe some day you should stop battling the people that just want to help you.”

She flicked his chin with her finger before turning her back and Jamie stared after her feeling an ache in his chest as she got farther away. “Feel like you want me to come in,” he tried, “it’s Pavlovian?”

“Have a good night, Jamie Tartt!”

He watched her until she disappeared back into her house. Stop battling the people who just wanted to help him? No one wanted to help him. As if to spite him, Roy’s face swam in his mind’s eye followed by Lasso and Jamie rushed into his car and fled the street like he could drive away from his own brain. Well, Lasso was an idiot but the rest of the team were alright. They at least maybe wanted to help him. Roy and Sam did he supposed. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Richmond had a match against Leeds tomorrow. He wondered if he should do what Keeley said. Jamie drove home and thought about it until he drifted off to sleep.

-

[“And that’s half time for Arsenal at Tottenham. Thrilling match, Arlo. Tensions are high here this Thursday evening at Hotspur Stadium.”]

[“A little too high if you as me, Chris. If the Gunners keep letting themselves get provoked, I fear they won’t break out of their tie streak.”]

[It’s certainly been a week for ties, hasn’t it? Just yesterday, Man City at Crystal Palace butted heads to the tune of nil-nil and then there was Saturday’s surprise between Leeds and Richmond.”]  

[“Yes, Chris! We were projecting a loss for Richmond at home but no one, absolutely no one was expecting that pass from Jamie Tartt early in the first.”]

[“I mean, can you blame us? Tartt isn’t exactly known for sharing the ball. But it led to a stunning goal from Obisanya and I think if they play like that this weekend, I’d say they have a decent chance against Watford.”]  

[“I don’t know about that, Arlo. Coach Lasso is still a bit green if you—”]

“Oh, shut up, Powell,” Jamie said to his radio. He jabbed the power button and silence flooded the car as he was turning into his driveway. They were going to destroy Watford on Saturday. Lasso’s wife and kid were even going to be in the stands and according to Beard it was sure be a good luck charm. Jamie certainly hoped so because their coach had been growing more distracted the closer it got to the weekend. He wasn’t worried though. He had been playing immaculately all week, even passing like Lasso was on him about. The Greyhounds loved it and despite himself, Jamie felt like a sponge for all the new affection. He supposed Keeley had been on to something after all. Even Roy was starting to make plays with him during training. It was unreal. Jamie pulled the keys from his ignition and grabbed his phone, thumbs flying over the screen in order to get the sudden thought he had out.

[Jamie] night Granddad [Wednesday 11:00 pm]

[Jamie] Good morning! [Thursday 6:02 am]  

[Roy Kent] Stop texting me [Thursday 12:20 pm]

[Jamie] Want to play fifa tonight? Can practise for Saturday! [Thursday 4:45 pm]

Nodding to himself, Jamie opened the door and climbed out of his car into the chilly evening. He was halfway up the driveway when his phone pinged and he stopped in his tracks. He looked at it with a grin and laughed out loud at the text there.

[Roy Kent] Busy [Thursday 4:46 pm]

That was the fastest Roy had texted him back yet and Jamie couldn’t even be mad. He was unlocking the door with a smile on his face when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway behind him and Jamie’s stomach plummeted in time with his lips. He turned to see an old and unfamiliar red Mazda squeal to a stop beside his Aston Martin. Behind the wheel was Bug and beside him in the passenger seat stared Jamie’s dad, eyes boring into him. He was angry. Jamie hadn’t seen him in months but could tell that through the windshield.

Watching his dad get out of the car felt a bit like he was dreaming. James looked the same as he always did with unkempt grey hair and messy beard. His Man City scarf and fur lined jacket that smelled of sweat and hops looked out of place on this street in Richmond. The back of Jamie’s neck pricked as the hair there rose to stand on end as his dad sauntered toward him with heavy footsteps and a wolf like smile. The crisp air from the bright overcast sky had nothing to do with the goosebumps that erupted over Jamie's skin.

“Jamie, remember me, son!?” James crowed, bearing his arms wide. There was a watch on his wrist, silver and glittering. That was new.

“Dad,” Jamie said, “how’d you find where I live?”

James stopped and the smile he had pinned to his lips widened into amusement and Jamie fought not to cringe at the misstep. “ ‘S that any way to greet your old man?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry.”

James laughed under his breath. “Ah, I’m just messing with you, Jamie. Good to see ya!” 

He opened his arms again and this time Jamie knew what to do. Drawing arms away from his belly, Jamie stepped forward and returned his dad’s embrace.

“-and there’s another bathroom upstairs if you need,” Jamie heard his own voice.

Denbo and Bug were drifting in front of him in the hall, heads on swivels as they looked around while his dad followed whistling a long note. They hadn’t taken off their shoes but Jamie didn’t say anything. He kept is own pumas on.

“Knew your place were going to be posh, Junior. Left us all behind, ain’t ya?”

His genial tone was a thin veil for the venom simmering underneath and Jamie had to swallow through a suddenly dry throat. He trailed after them into the kitchen where his eyes zeroed in on the vase of fresh flowers on the white counter. He had been proud of the pink chrysanthemums he had brought home on the weekend but the sight of them now anchored his feet to the floor. The pear-shaped glass had a heavy base. Jamie watched as his dad came to a stop in front if it and had to clench his hands in his hoodie pockets to stop a flash of panic from making him fidget.

“I thought we sorted out you not being a fairy.”

“I’m not. I—” Jamie said and cut off an explanation. He remembered very well that his dad did not tolerate excuses. He was thankful he had worn his floral tracksuit yesterday and not today.

“What was that?”

Denbo and Bug laughed from the fridge. They had a bottle each of beer and Jamie had a second thing to be thankful for that he had received several cases from his recent sponsorship.

“I’m fucking talking to you, boy.”

Jamie jumped at his dad’s sudden proximity but breathed a little easier for the distance between him and the flower vase now. He needed to change the water in it, but it could wait until they left.

Jamie made his face stone. “Yeah, we sorted it.” They went to Amsterdam didn’t they.

A familiar glint ignited in his Dad’s eye and set off a tremble in Jamie’s fingers. It still felt strange looking down at him but no less threatening as he loomed so close Jamie could feel the breath from his nose.

“Oh? Then why’s it look like you’re going to piss yourself?”

Bug’s laugh rang out in the kitchen. “Oh, yeah! Got that look on his face, don’t he?”

Jamie glared at the floor, remembering the days when the fear of being beaten was new and raw. It had been a party trick of his dad’s- raise his hand and make Jamie piss himself to get his friends to laugh. James lunged forward with his hand up, making him flinch back and turn his head with his eyes screwed shut. No blow came and his dad and his friends roared with laughter.

“I’m not fucking ten anymore,” Jamie seethed, wishing his fucking ears would stop burning.

Fire cracked on his cheek as James’ hand connected with a loud slap that rang in Jamie’s ears. His head whipped to the side and he stumbled back. James caught his arm above the elbow and dug his fingers in and took the step with him.

“You talking back to me?” He asked in a voice quiet and low that made Jamie start to sweat.

Jamie tried to control his breathing. “N-no—” His windpipe closed and his breath left him in a wheeze as James grabbed him and shoved him back into the wall by the throat. Another stinging slap connected with his cheek, harder than the last and Jamie’s hands flew up to try and block his face but was too late to ward off another hit. He tried to gasp but no air made it passed the tight grip on his throat and his hands scrambled down to James’ fingers in a panic. He was squeezing just enough so Jamie couldn’t breathe.

“Forgot everything I’ve fucking taught you,” James yelled and slapped him again. Jamie’s head snapped to the side with a bright flash of pain. A burn was starting to tear his chest open from the inside out. He batted at his dad’s arm and James took the opening to connect another open handed blow and then another that made his ears ring before he released Jamie’s throat. He would have fallen if not for a fistful of his hair being grabbed. Jamie cried out and heaved in frantic gasps of air while his hands clutched at his dad’s wrist. It felt like his scalp was tearing with the force being using to wrench his head down so they were face to face.

“Look at your fucking hair. You look like a little cock sucking bitch boy, don’t know how you stand to show your fucking face like that. And there!” James twisted his hand and started shouting so loud Jamie’s heart started racing in his chest. “You’ve got fucking flowers out like a girl and fucking toys about. I know I’ve taught you better than that, Jamie. Look at me!” Low laughter sounded from Denbo and Bug as they imitated sniveling. Jamie tried to slow his breathing but the look in his dad’s eye only made his lungs stutter.  “And passing,” James hissed like it was the worst offence. “With your fucking talent. What a waste. Think you can leave City and get soft. You think I’d let that happen?”

Jamie couldn’t get his voice to work and James, waiting for a response tightened his already cruel grip in his hair. “Ow!” Jamie yelped, “No, no, I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m sorry, Dad, please. Please, let go.” For a second Jamie thought he was in for another slap but instead the floor came crashing to meet him and he landed hard on his shoulder, momentum from being shoved twisting it under his weight. Jamie grunted and scrambled to curl into a tight ball.

“Fucking pussy,” his dad spat, and Jamie flinched when he moved, tensing his arms over his head and gut. “Give me one of those, eh?” James’ voice sounded from across the kitchen, so Jamie risked a peek from under his arm. All three of them were turned away to the fridge, Denbo was passing a beer to his dad and Bug was practically bent over peering inside.

Wincing at the throbbing pain on his cheek and the sting from top of his head, Jamie gingerly got to his feet. He didn’t dare move or even hold a hand to his cheek go try and relieve the burn, choosing to wait with hunched shoulders for his dad to turn back around. His eyes flicked to the vase of pink chrysanthemums again.

“Oi, Jamie.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Ah, that’s good stuff,” James sighed after draining half the bottle. “Be a good lad and go get us some tea, eh? Was planning on taking ya out. Thought, hey, we’re in the area. Let’s go see my son at his shitty club. Gotta thank him for floating me some cash. Silly me, thinking a brat like you’d be grateful. Nah. But didn’t expect you to have such a plush pad so I think we’ll hang out here, yeah? Bug heard good things about this one steakhouse place so why don’t you run along and pick us up some nosh?”

Jamie nodded along, his stomach sinking lower with every word his dad said. “Yes, sir. You know what you want?”

“We’ll text ya.”

“Okay.” He waited for his dad to dismiss him by turning his back and heading out the kitchen and into the next room over. Someone had turned on the flat screen but there was a static in Jamie’s ears that distorted the sound. Sounded a bit like the aliens from Star Wars but he wasn’t a jedi, so he didn’t understand the language. He still had his keys in his jeans pocket so he headed back out the front door where the outside air stung his nose as he breathed in deep. Teetering on the doorstep Jamie closed his eyes and exhaled as long as he was able. When he was done, his hands were still trembling but not as badly. As he climbed into his car and started the engine, he wondered if he should just take off and crash at a hotel for the night but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. His dad would be even more furious with him and postponing dealing with him was always more trouble than it was worth.

Come to think of it, it was a good thing that the long haired jedi in the film knew that one alien’s language. Jamie only knew the one. If it had been him, Anakin would have stayed rotting on that desert planet for sure. Jamie flipped the front mirror down to take stock of his appearance, raising his chin and turning his head back and forth. His cheek was red, but thankfully not in the shape of a handprint. It felt like his cheekbone was going to bruise. He touched his throat with shaking fingers, relieved that his dad hadn’t really tried to strangle him this time. There’d be nothing to hide from that either at training tomorrow. Good. That was good.

Resigned to a long night, Jamie reversed out of his driveway. He let himself drift as he drove and marked the passage of time by how the sting faded in his cheek, idly noting an ache growing in his shoulder. He thought that if Anakin had never left Tatooine he could have stayed with his mum and never would have become Darth Vader. Definitely would have died young though. Whatever calm he had managed to salvage away from his house turned sour in his stomach by the time he turned back onto his street. The sun was setting behind the roof, rosy golden light blinding him as he turned onto the shadowed driveway. A shiver rolled through him after he pulled his keys out of the ignition at the cut of power to the heat. Somewhere between entering his house and leaving it he had lost his jacket.

Jamie suddenly found himself having to swallow through a surge of nausea as the smell of the steak in the black tote bags beside him bloomed like a noxious cloud. It was too much. Jamie bolted out of the car as his throat filled with acid and hurled what was left of his lunch into the hedges lining his driveway. It was probably a good thing. That the jedi had known the language. Because if Anakin never became Darth Vader than Luke never would have redeemed him or whatever, and the universe would have fallen or exploded or some shit. Jamie spat the taste of bile out of his mouth and straightened out of his crouch. He blinked heavy eyes and when he opened them again his dad was laughing at telly, heaving giant breaths and smacking his thigh but his voice was quiet like Jamie was underwater. Even though they were seated on the couch right next to each other and his bad shoulder was getting jostled around. There was a match on, the announcers speaking in English now though the words washed over his head. He watched the little men run after the ball until it switched to a stat board.

“That’s me boy,” James sang, “with fuckin’ numbers like that there no way City’ll keep ‘im on the bench now.”

Numbers. Next to a smirking face that looked just like him. Then the same guy in a Richmond Kit sinking goals into the net in a highlight reel; showed him pass, showed him cheering with the lads, showed Roy Kent with a grin on his face. Smiling at the guy who looked just like Jamie. Roy only smiled on the pitch.

“-to score goals you know. Not like that pansy bull shit, eh, Jamie? You look like a fucking pussy, letting that twat take your goal. Better cut that bull shit now, you hear?”

That was the best version of himself, on the telly. More real than Jamie was right now.

A flick of his dad’s wrist and an empty bottle. “Let me get you a new one, Da.”

He felt himself rising off the couch like he was in one of them self driving cars, strapped in and watching the wheel turn itself. The first time he encountered one of those was in an uber and he had freaked the fuck out. Jamie had taken one after a long meeting with his agent and called a car even though he hated being in the passenger seat. Then it changed lanes on its own and that was too many degrees of control removed for him. He remembered losing it on the driver, bolting right out of car and narrowly avoiding being flattened by a cyclist before walking two hours home.

As Jamie left the living room behind he felt a flash of panic like he was back in that Uber, or back in the passenger seat of his dad’s car, like he was going to crash and burn any second. It was gone before he could even think to grab for the wheel.

If Jamie had a light saber, he’d choose pink like the chrysanthemums flying toward his head. Glass shattered above him and Jamie dropped to the floor of the kitchen. He shouted in pain as blood poured onto the peeling linoleum floor, splattering next to an old crack left by a bottle of rum his dad dropped years ago. Hot crimson overflowed from his fingers where they clutched above his eye.

“Me eye, Dad! Me eye!”

It’s gone, me eye’s gone.

“Stop your fucking crying!”

A blow to his stomach sent him ricocheting into the wall and vomit shooting out his mouth. His dad was screaming at the top of his lungs, too loud and Jamie couldn’t breathe as another crippling kick kept the wind knocked out of him. Jamie coughed and sobbed, still holding his eye and still bleeding.

“Fucking baby,” James slurred and tottered off.

Silence flooded the kitchen and soon the only sounds in it were him crying before the telly turned on across the room. It was a game show and his dad turned the volume up until Jamie could barely hear himself. His head was splitting and the blood wouldn’t stop. It ran in rivulets over both his eyes, sealing one shut and pooled on the ground below his cheek.

“Shut the fuck up!” James screamed. A trembling gasp cut through Jamie’s sobs as he flinched on the ground.  

Run! Get up, get up, get up.

He was too scared to move. He waited for another blow but it didn’t come and when he opened the eye that wasn’t congealed over with blood, he was in two kitchens at once. Jamie jolted. He was frozen on the ground, confused and terrified at finding clean white tile when he had just been bleeding all over the stained linoleum in his dad’s flat. The skin between eye and eyebrow burned and his shoulder was killing him but he didn’t dare move. The game show his dad was watching was still on but the host had a different accent and deeper voice, talking about Man City’s offensive line instead of the second-place top of the line cookware set. It was coming from a different room, far off from where Jamie lay curled in a ball.

Puzzled, he raised his head, looking toward the sounds. He couldn’t see the television from where he was sitting but it should have been right where he was looking. That wasn’t right so Jamie blinked some more and the room came into focus.

It was his kitchen. His house, he was in his house in Richmond. Jamie shuddered in a gasp and touched the scar between his eye and brow, running his fingers over it half expecting sticky blood but relieved to find dry skin instead. The searing pain that had been there just a moment ago was now a phantom burn fading by the second. Jamie shivered, feeling terribly cold all of a sudden. It came from inside him, deep in his chest always after he’d have one of those Doctor Who moments where some kind of timey wimey shit happened to his brain and he was in two places at once.

Every time he was a little surprised just how deep the ice went, how tired it made him feel. All he could do was lie down and curl up and try to keep some kind of warmth in him as the tide swelled. Sudden laughter rang out in the other room, James and his friends droning on about something he couldn’t hear. He didn’t want to listen and he didn’t want to be scared. He needed to get up and leave before his dad came back. Jamie couldn’t afford to stay there, he knew that. But he was so cold now, so tired that he curled himself tighter.

The shadows in the room shifted as the sun moved in the sky outside the kitchen window, ascending or descending Jamie couldn’t say. He must have fallen asleep because when he woke, he realized that it was too quiet. James and his friends were boisterous drunks and silence had never ever been a good thing. Dread had him jumping up only to stumble at the pins and needles feeling in his legs, bits of glass falling out of his hair.

“Fuck,” Jamie hissed.

He wanted to go back to sleep because he felt more tired than ever, but he limped forward, making his way into the living room where he heard snoring before he rounded the corner. There on the massive velvet sectional were Denbo and Bug, passed out with the light of the television flickering over them. At finding no vomit around them, just empty bottles, cans, bottle caps, and crisp wrappers from the snacks Jamie had bought before going to that steakhouse, he breathed a sigh of relief. Giving them a once over to assure himself that they wouldn’t need their stomachs pumped, Jamie went in search of his dad and found him on his bed.

He stared from the doorway. Light from the ensuite shined on James where he was snoring on the satin pillows, getting his filthy clothes all over Jamie’s sheets and he couldn’t fucking breathe through the rage coming up to choke him. It came out in his hands, he could feel his fingers vibrate so he clenched them at his sides until his palms stung. Jamie didn’t often let himself marvel at his Dad’s nerve but now, seeing him in his space, on his bed, surrounded by his things, it made Jamie want to scream. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he marched up to his dresser and snatched the pictures of him and his mum off. Jamie could stand a lot of things but not the thought of James waking up and seeing his mum’s face. The very thought made him ill. After all the pain he put her through and treating her like he did, it didn’t matter to Jamie that his dad had come around just to give him shit as long as he didn’t get to lay eyes on his mum in any way, shape, or form. Jamie could let his dad rob him of any sense of safety, dignity, and whatever the fuck else. But he couldn’t have that.

So, he held the three silver frames to his chest and slinked into the ensuite. He found the physio tape he needed and hurried back down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen where he turned on the light knowing that Denbo and Bug were out for the count. Jamie paused in shock, eyes roving over the disaster. He didn’t know how he had missed it earlier. Besides the fragments of glass from the vase scattered about, beer bottles had taken over the island, some of them on their sides and dripping onto the white quarts or down the surface right to the floor. Rubbish from the dinner Jamie had gone out to get was dumped right on the tile in the absence of a rubbish bin in view. It was under the sink, like all bins in existence.

His transformers were in pieces on the other side of the room strewn with the candles that had been next to them on the shelves. The gold holders they had been in, Jamie didn’t see. Despite the fatigue leeching right into his bones he knew he physically couldn’t leave the kitchen in this state. He put the pictures in the corner and shucked his hoodie off where more glass tumbled off of the material and onto the tile, wincing as the movement tweaked at his shoulder. He rotated it in a jerky circle and painstakingly lined the physio tape along his deltoid. Once he had it sorted and the strain eased Jamie put his shirt back on and went to grab the broom. Being no stranger of manic cleaning or tidying up after his dad dropped by, Jamie set to work with a single-minded focus. By the time he was finished and the kitchen was back to gleaming, his shoulder was absolutely aching and his eyes were burning with exhaustion but he felt less like he was going to crawl out of his own skin.

The square clock on the wall ticked softly as Jamie weighed his options but in the end there was really only one available to him. He grabbed the pictures of his mum and went to the front door, bypassing the empty guest room that lacked a lock on the door and made his way outside and into his car. There, he sat in the silence and stared out the windshield long after the overhead light turned off. It was pitch black out and the winter’s night chill settled over him, right through his hoodie but he found it difficult to care. Cold inside or out, it didn’t matter. He had the only key and he was out of the wind anyway so that was a step up from a lot of nights. It wasn’t worth going to a hotel at this hour and he had to get up early anyway since his dad had mentioned something about wanting one of Jamie’s fry-ups in the morning. His lips pulled downward, momentarily unsure if he was misremembering a different time. Either way, he was going to do it. Bought all the stuff when he had gone out, hadn’t he.

Jamie let go of a sigh and reclined the driver’s seat to curl up the best he was able. When he shut his eyes he should have known better then to expect his mind to cooperate. The exhaustion drowning him before he stepped into the car fell away and he now felt too wired to sleep. Would they leave tomorrow or crash over the next couple days? He couldn’t have them here for the match. They’d see it in a pub because there was no way his dad would be caught dead in a stadium that didn’t have Man City and they’d see Jamie pass to Roy because that’s the play they were planning. Him and Roy. They had been running it all week and had really nailed it today and Jamie had felt bright and free until he got home.

Fuck his dad. Thought he could just show up unannounced and boss Jamie around like he was a kid. He was twenty-three. He was in the premier league. And he was the best player on his team. If he wanted to pass, he’d pass. Even if it felt a bit shit because he loved controlling the ball. But passing to Roy Kent, that was just aces. And there was nothing his dad could do about it. He could really hurt him Jamie supposed, make it so that he could never play football again- there was that. Drunk out of his mind and raving about respect he was owed or some bullshit Jamie could well imagine. A giggle bubbled up from his gut and pealed out his lips, followed by more until he was gasping for breath laughing. He could imagine it was the thing and it was the funniest thing in the world. He laughed and laughed until his stomach ached.

“Ah fuck,” Jamie sighed and wiped a tear from his eye. Deciding that sleep wasn’t for him, Jamie pulled out his phone intending to bring up Youtube but froze when he saw the notification on his phone screen and his stomach flipped.

[Roy Kent] Fuck you too then [Thursday 11:15 pm]

Jamie squeezed his eyes shut and found the text still there when he opened them again. A grin broke free on Jamie’s face and became wider with a short laugh when he went into the conversation. 

[Roy Kent] Busy [Thursday 4:46 pm]

[Roy Kent] What, no photoshoot of your dinner? [Thursday 10:14 pm]

[Roy Kent] Are you seriously ignoring me, Tartt? [Thursday 10:30 pm]

[Roy Kent] I was fucking busy. Some of us have actual lives [Thursday 11:01pm]

[Roy Kent] What did you want to practice? [Thursday 11:08 pm]

[Roy Kent] Fuck you too then [Thursday 11:15 pm]

Jamie’s cheeks hurt from smiling as his fingers blurred to type out a reply.

[Jamie] Didn’t know you were so obsessed with me [Friday 3:58 am]

[Jamie] I got busy to. So maybe next time you’re free [Friday 3:58 am]

[Jamie] When are u free? [Thursday 3:58 am]

With the smile on his face fading, Jamie put his phone down, not expecting a reply since the old man was definitely sleeping. Feeling the cold a little more now, he turned up his hood and nestled his hands in his front pocket, balling the material up to get as much warmth as he could. He looked in the direction of his house and scowled, wishing he was in his own bed instead of chased out of his own fucking home. Jamie could just imagine what Roy would have done if some piece of shit tried to slap him around or choke him or throw a vase at him. Roy would go ballistic. Probably head butt to start and then wail on him. Denbo and Bug would try to pry him off but they wouldn’t be able to. Just last month it had taken four professional footballers to hold Roy back from coming at Jamie in the dressing room so three old drunks would hardly be a problem.

He was so strong.

And Jamie couldn’t help it. He could imagine Roy wrapping his arms around him to hold him close and keep him warm then he’d look down and join their lips in a searing kiss that would be a little too rough at first. Because Jamie just knew that Roy kissed like he played. All passion and drive focused on the wet heat of their mouths and-

“No,” he told his half hard cock.

He wasn’t supposed to think of Roy that way anymore. It always messed him up. Ever since he met the man in person he couldn’t wank to him properly. Or rather he could wank just fine but the after would have him feeling empty and sad. Which, too late now he supposed. And he hadn’t even gotten off first.

Jamie gave himself a shake and winced as the movement tugged at his shoulder. That and the cold did a right good job of easing the tension in his pants. He groaned and reached his right arm tight across himself to rub his shoulder to distract himself from the ache there and try to warm himself up. Roy would never go for him anyway, even if he liked men. Which was a crying shame because the one bloke he had been brave enough to get with said that Jamie had an arse made for fucking. Which they’d never actually gotten around to because he had gotten the fuck out of there, humiliated, after the twat wouldn’t stop slapping Jamie’s arse cheeks. After that he hadn’t wanted anyone near his bum until Keeley did that thing with the pad of her fingertip during the best blow job of his entire life. That had been well hot. When he had told her how shocking it was that it had felt so good, she’d gotten excited and explained in thrilling detail what she could show him later and how sweet she could be. He had been down to try it too even though his first experience had left him a little nervous about it but then they broke up the very next day.

The thought of her, her green eyes, blonde hair, and warm smile caused a pang in his chest. Out of every girl he had been with, she had been the best at cuddles. Even though she was so small, she had a way of making him feel… he didn’t know what exactly but the loss of it had carved a hole right in his chest that he was just becoming aware of. Like the time he broke his whole arm and didn’t feel it until hours later.

He thought they would have been back together by now and he was starting to get a sense as to why they hadn’t. Roy was orbiting Keeley like she was the sun and he was Mars or whichever one was closest to it. And Jamie was fucking Pluto. Cold and alone and not even a planet anymore really. He didn’t stand a chance with either of them when the competition was the other one. He supposed it didn’t matter in the end.

Jamie sighed and let his head bang sideways on the window. The glass was cold against his forehead and he was tired of it. He hated being cold. He could go for a run then. It beat not being able to sleep in his car. Mind made up, he reached for the door handle the same time as his phone went off.

[Roy Kent] You better not be awake right now [Friday 4:10 am]

Jamie blinked at the text, hovered his thumbs over the keyboard and paused, stumped as to why Roy would be texting him now. He should be sleeping like Jamie wished he were sleeping. Another message came in as he stared at the screen.

[Roy Kent] I can see you read my fucking message [Friday 4:11 am]

The sudden chiming of his ring tone blew up the silence in the car and a bolt of panic made Jamie’s phone leap right out of his fingers. He had the insane thought that Roy had somehow sensed Jamie's sexy thoughts about him. He caught his phone in his lap and answered.

“Er, hi?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you asleep?” The sound of Roy’s voice grumbling over the phone eased something in Jamie’s chest and his shoulders relaxed.

“Dunno. Talking to you, aren’t I. And you aren’t sleeping right now either.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I had to piss and I saw your fucking message. What’s your excuse?”

“Um… my excuse? For what?”

“For not being asleep, Jesus Christ.”

“Oh.” That he was hiding out in his car because being too cold to sleep was better than being attacked on the chance his dad woke up angry? Or that his shoulder felt like one big bruise? Or that he couldn’t stop thinking about Roy or Keeley?

“Jamie?”

“Oh um,” Jamie said and took in a breath to try and snap himself out of it. “Just couldn’t sleep. You know, imsomnia.”

There was a minute pause on the line. “Fuck. All night? Is that why you do that sleep hygiene shit?”

“How d’you know about that?”

“You mentioned it in Wolverhampton.”

“Oh, right.”

Another pause from Roy and what sounded like fabric shuffling. “Tartt. You sound… a bit off, are you alright?”

No. Not even a little bit. But he couldn’t let Roy know that, so he summoned his best defence.  “Yeah, ‘course I’m alright,” he said in a drawl saturated with contempt.

“Tarrt—”

“-I’m aces, mate.”

He heard Roy huff through his nose. “Fine. Fuck you, I’m going back to bed, goodbye—”

“Wait, wait!” Jamie gasped as terror struck him like lightning. “No, don’t hang up. Uh, why- why were you busy? Earlier.” He didn’t want to be alone.

“Jamie,” Roy said, drawing out his name in a growl. “What’s going on?”

He opened his mouth to answer but he had nothing. Anything he tried to come up with wouldn’t make it out of the fog in his head until the silence between them grew heavy. Roy waited for him and after a few false starts, Jamie managed to find his voice. “I’m just… tired. I can’t sleep. Me head hurts. ‘M fucking cold. I wish…”

The endless darkness outside his car was looming but beckoned with something other than the sinking feeling in his soul. “You wish what?”

If Jamie wasn’t feeling so untethered from his own head, he would have noticed that Roy’s voice was as soft as he’d ever heard it. As it was, he could barely hear his own reply as it came out of his lips. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah?” There was an intake of breath from the other side but Jamie was already ending the call and opening his car door. He chucked his phone onto the driver’s seat where it was already buzzing with an incoming call from Roy and took off.

Each pound of his feet against the pavement drove him further from his head as he broke away into the night. He didn’t know how long he ran for or where. He could barely see it was so dark between the streetlamps. It was as he was jogging back into his neighborhood where the only light was from the far end of the street when the top of his foot clipped a curb and he went sprawling toward the pavement. His palms tore as they skidded on the tree lined sidewalk followed by his knee landing with a shock that rattled his head. A grunt forced its way out of his clenched teeth before Jamie pushed himself up. He dusted his palms together, wincing at the sting and continued at the same pace, eventually making his way back to his house out of breath and sweating. Jamie fell into his car more than climbed in and sat with his chest heaving staring at his dashboard until the overhead light turned off. The chill was quick to bite at the cooling sweat on his skin and soon had him shivering in the driver’s seat. Running had cleared his head a bit even if it had left him feeling like death warmed over. His eyes felt heavy and his empty stomach churned while the pain in his shoulder had become sharper. Not to mention his palms and knees were smarting after his fall.

Jamie crossed his arms tightly and ducked his head willing himself to stop shivering by scowling at his ripped jeans. He wasn’t about to turn on the car for heat just because he was a little cold and idle in his own driveway like a twat. He eyed his phone and gave into curiosity to find five missed calls from Roy and three texts. His heartbeat spiked and his eyes started to sting as he prepared himself for a round of insults.

[Roy Kent] Call me, please [Friday 4:25 am]

[Roy Kent] Jamie I just need to know if you’re alright [Friday 4:27 am]

[Roy Kent] I’m here if you need [Friday 4:34 am]

Jamie’s throat closed up as pressure bloomed behind his eyes. Of everything that happened tonight- being ambushed by his dad, slapped around, called names, hiding in his car, Roy’s text went too far. He screwed his eyes shut against the heat that swelled. Jamie clutched his phone to his chest and bowed his head, breathing raggedly with the effort of keeping a sob locked inside. He hadn’t quite realized how good he had it being here at Richmond. He’d gotten soft. Weak. Let his guard down. Back in Manchester this had been normal, something to tolerate like a chore. Now, months out of practice his tolerance was shit. And the sense of safety he barely realized had been there was now dead and gone. And Roy, he didn’t know how unfair he was being. Jamie was an obligation, nothing more. Roy didn’t care about him really which made every kindness feel like a twisting knife in his chest. Because if kindness was like water, Jamie was a man dying of thirst. It wasn’t enough and too much all at once. Roy didn’t know how much it meant, didn’t know that Jamie wanted more than that.

‘I’m here if you need,’ he said. Bullshit. Jamie scraped his nails through his hair, finding a cut from the vase shattering above him and grabbed the hair above it. Desperate to feel anything other than the sorrow drowning him, Jamie yanked on his hair as hard as he could stand. Sharp pain launched him toward anger. He didn’t want Roy’s pity. He wasn’t a charity case that the captain could use to feel good about himself. Jamie hated him. His phone was laying on top of the pictures of his mum and him in the passenger seat and he grabbed it, thumbs skirting over the keyboard in a rush until he stopped short. He looked at what he was typing out, a blurred half-finished mess of hateful words as a thought bothered the back of his head.

He didn’t want to be Pluto.

He wanted to do what Keeley said, stop battling the people who wanted to help him.

He wanted to call Roy.

Jamie deleted his message letter by letter and something that felt a lot like losing a match came over him. He was empty. Didn’t have it in him to press the call button let alone find the words to ask for help. Jamie stared at the cold black in front of him and waited for dawn. The next couple hours passed him by until he could make out shadows and shapes, the slate grey dashboard, his hands lax above his jeans, one knee scuffed with dirt and the other torn and the skin underneath scraped red. A cheerful whistling sang from somewhere outside as the birds started to wake and it was jarring next to the silence that came before it. Jamie could feel his eyes were bloodshot past the headache throbbing behind them and a check in the front mirror confirmed that yes they were. Along with puffy and shadowed undereye there was a bruise brushing his cheekbone, tender under his fingertips. He flipped his hand and catalogued the grated skin of his palms, finding that they stung but not terribly so. It was lucky he fell and that way he could just say that he hit his face on something.

Deciding that it was time to move, Jamie dragged himself out of his car, idly noting that while his shoulder was killing him, the pain hadn’t gotten any worse. As he let himself into his house, anxiety curled inside his already sick stomach but found Denbo and Bug still sleeping. He could hear his dad’s snoring from down the stairs so Jamie sighed and proceeded into the kitchen. He took a backseat in his own head as he started making breakfast. Bacon, sausages, roast potatoes, and fried eggs. He used too much salt and butter but it was the way his dad liked it. And it was the way Jamie had been making it for him since he was too young to manage a stove.

Once that was done, he assembled the foil trays he had bought and piled them in to keep warm. He knew that once he turned the oven off and the smell of the cooked food wafted through the place, he’d have twenty minutes tops for his company to wake up. Jamie didn’t need that long though because he was out the door as soon as he had the food sorted. He wasn’t quite sure how he made it to Nelson Road but could recollect flashes of the drive once he was in the shower where the hot water wasn’t enough to chase away the deep chill in him. The smell of his shampoo was nice though, jasmine and sage, waking him up a little as he massaged it into his scalp. He found two small scratches on the back of his head that only hurt a little when they were touched. Raising his right arm caused jolts of pain to fire in his shoulder where angry bruising the colour of a red plum stained from the top his shoulder down to cover his entire shoulder blade. While he was guessing that the shallow bruising on his cheek would barely take a week to heal, the same couldn’t be said of his shoulder. He’d went down harder than he thought onto the tile floor so he skipped his conditioner, deciding that there wasn’t really a point anyway.

He stared at himself in the mirror at his cubby. Jamie dabbed some pomade on his fingertips and ran it up through his hair, the way his dad berated him for. Slicked up like a shark’s fin. Like a cock sucking bitch boy. Jamie tilted his head to the sides, dispassionately looking at his cheekbones and square jaw while avoiding his own eyes. He knew people found him sexy but the thought didn’t spark its usual pride today. Wondered how many people thought his hair made him look like a pussy.

“Morning, Jamie! Nice to see you so early,” Ted called.

Jamie looked to the door where the coach had entered but blinked at finding no one there. The light from the gaffer’s office was on and inside Ted and Beard were having a loud conversation. Something about Watford’s defence. Jamie could see Nate sitting on the inside ledge chuckling at something Ted said probably. He blinked again to find his hands in his view and he squinted a little confused, definitely not remembering having sat down. Across from him Isaac and Declan were talking about last night’s Dancing With the Stars and Richard kept interrupting with scathing commentary on the winning couple of the night. The sounds washed over him and he breathed in the smell of fresh laundry and Isaac’s cologne that didn’t quite cover up the stale but tangy sweat smell of the dressing room. It was the calmest he felt since yesterday so he decided to lean back and rest his eyes. Just for a moment until training started. His chin drifted down to rest on his chest and he was out in seconds.

Chapter Text

The morning crowd of people parted around him like waves against a stern as Roy thundered through the halls of Nelson Road. Little spikes of pain drove through his knee with each pounding step but he was too livid to care.

He was going to kill Jamie Tartt.

The nerve of that fucker. To ignore him all night and then pop up like nothing happened near four in the morning. Sounding strange over the phone, his voice having an absence of something that made Jamie, Jamie. Then hanging up on him and not picking up, leaving Roy to imagine worst case scenarios. If he wasn’t dead or dying then Roy would make him wish he was.

Roy turned the corner, and it was only the heat of his anger that kept him propelling forward without stalling because faffing about outside the dressing room were half the team. A couple of them were around the water cooler while a few more were leaning against the opposite wall. Never mind that they were all early, they should be in the dressing room where they were supposed to be. A low growl of displeasure rumbled in his chest and those who were in the process of greeting him snapped their mouths shut. They all tensed and avoided Roy’s eyes as he marched up to Hughes. The lad took a step back into the wall, holding what looked to be Montlaur’s phone to his chest. Richard was beside him right in front of the dressing room door and did a marginally better job of schooling his face than Colin did. He would have chosen to interrogate Montlaur but he didn’t have the patience to deal with the man’s English. Not today.

“Why the fuck aren’t you getting ready in the dressing room?”

Colin’s eyes were wider than saucers and he stumbled over his words for a moment, looking between his own Richmond shirt and Richard’s. His shin guards were even in behind yellow socks.

“Uh, um uh, Isaac told us to get out if we couldn’t keep our voices down.” Roy moved his eyebrows in a way that his team knew meant trouble. “It’s just that Jamie’s having a kip and we’re all just waiting for Ted, so we thought, so we thought—”

“-Jamie’s what?”

Roy could feel his blood pressure skyrocket. Colin winced, managing to make eye contact the moment Roy charged forward.

“Merde,” Richard scrambled to get out of the way as Roy reached for the door. It slammed open with a deafening bang and Roy found Jamie already shooting to his feet. The whole room froze, the low hum of noise cutting off into a weighted silence. Isaac stared with his mouth open, seated at his cubby with Sam and Declan at his sides and Roy caught Beard’s gaze from behind the window in the corner of his eye. Jamie was a statue. His eyes were averted from Roy’s own, tracking somewhere below his chin as Roy closed the distance between them.

“Boot room. Now.”

No one made a peep. Just watched and didn’t dare to disturb the tension their captain brought with him into the room. Roy turned on his heel, expecting Jamie to follow and he slammed open the door to the boot room too to get some of his anger out. He paced waiting for Jamie who trailed in with a hunched posture and eyes on the ground. Jamie sidled past him looking pale and smelling of his jasmine shampoo that Roy resisted breathing in. It made his chest clench in a strange way that made him even angrier. No one got to get under Roy’s skin like this, especially not some divine smelling upstart from Manchester that Roy didn’t even like. He crossed his arms tightly across his leather jacket.

“You better have a dammed good reason for not calling me back, Tartt,” he snarled.

Jamie shook his head on the way deeper into the room before stopping at the end of the last rack of boots. He angled himself toward them, studying the pairs in a transparent attempt to avoid looking at Roy. The silence was grating. And unnerving. Jamie never shut up a day in his prick life especially whenever Roy was in the vicinity. And now Roy found that he didn’t care for it in the slightest. It made the anger Roy was cultivating threaten to wilt into worry and he pushed the feeling away with a growl.

“Went for a run.” Jamie’s voice was hollow and the sound of it was doing weird things to Roy’s eyebrows.

“At four in the fucking morning?” He pressed.

Jamie shrugged one shoulder and sighed, finally turning to look at him. If he didn’t have an eyebrow raised in challenge, Roy might have been in danger of having a conniption because he looked awful. As awful as someone like Jamie could look. Under the fluorescent lights his pallor was closer to a hospital patient than his normal peachy complexion, his eyes were bloodshot and underlined with dark shadows, one of them stretching across his cheekbone in a trick of the light. Roy stepped closer and stopped cold when the shadow didn’t shift.

“What happened?”

Jamie glanced down before meeting Roy’s eyes with a blank face. He shrugged one shoulder again. “Fell.”

A sick sense of déjà vu struck Roy like lightning, an old pain in his gut awakening after years at rest. It was a specific gnawing ache he’d only had during one period of his life. Not when he watched the back of his Grandad’s car driving away from dropping him off at Sunderland, not when he realized he couldn’t keep up at Chelsea anymore, and not when he came to Richmond.

Roy couldn’t look away from the pale violet mark.

It was the same feeling he got when his sister left her shit stain of a husband. At the time he had no idea why his little sister had been acting like a complete stranger and had let her push him away. Then, fourteen months later Ashley had shown up at his door with glass in her hair and bruises under her long sleeves, clutching a four-year-old Phoebe to her chest and Roy suddenly understood all the signs that he had missed for years. Years. He carried that regret in his soul. It flooded through him, made him look at Jamie like he had never seen him before. The cagey behavior, jumping at every noise or movement, and lashing out for no apparent reason. Jamie was acting the exact same way Ashley had been before their fight. Roy couldn’t make sense of it.

It couldn’t be the same.

He fell.

His sister had used that one too. Roy took several deep breaths, dragging air in through his nose and out his pursed mouth. Jamie raised his palms toward Roy; they were chafed and red where the skin was torn. It wasn’t an offer, but Roy grabbed his wrist and stepped forward to get a better look, feeling a jolt the second his fingers brushed Jamie’s skin. Guilt, it must have been because he could see the younger man tense, but it was too late now. Roy manhandled Jamie’s hand so he could scrutinize the scrape and Jamie let him.

“Not so bad,” he said, his voice coming out rough. Roy unhanded Jamie’s wrist and stepped backward, sweeping his eyes across the bruise on his cheek.

Jamie shifted his weight onto one hip, splaying out his knee and giving Roy an eye full of his thigh in his little shorts. He motioned to the mess that was his kneecap, all bruised and scratched.

It certainly looked as if he had fallen but Roy still had that sick, tight feeling in his gut.

Jamie let out a tired sigh, watching Roy miserably but still not saying anything. “So fucking what?” Roy burst out. “You were so busy not fucking sleeping that you ignored me all fucking night? And then what? Fucking got bored and went for a run? You can’t fucking do that, Jamie. Message someone like that and then fuck off. Make them worry.”

Jamie’s eyes widened in shock, the first sign of life Roy witnessed from him since he got to Nelson Road. “I weren’t ignoring you,” he said plaintively in a voice weighed low by exhaustion. “I didn’t have me phone. And like, you barely text me back anyway and- and wait. You were worried?”

Roy felt his nostrils flare and his face heat. “Fuck you, I didn’t say that. What I am saying is that it was fucking selfish of you.”

A small uptick on Jamie’s lips. It was soft, quietly pleased in a way that took Roy off guard. And a little sad. He could read Jamie’s face. The small tightness around the corners of his eyes, the barely there crease between his sharp eyebrows, the lost expression, all shorthand that Roy inexplicably found that he knew how to read. The urge to end this conversation and run came over him, twisting in with the feeling in his stomach.

He pointed his finger in the striker’s face. “I mean it, Tartt. Don’t pull that shit again.”

“I… uh yeah I won’t. Swear- swear down.”

Uncertainty looked wrong on Jamie’s face like a shirt that didn’t fit. It pulled Roy in when all he wanted was to push away. Roy wanted him to argue. Wanted to shove him to make him spark. His hands twitched so he curled them into fists as a strange simmering feeling buzzed under his skin. Roy made himself really look at the bags under Jamie’s eyes to force out a twinge of sympathy so he wouldn’t deck him in the face and bolt.

“I expect no fuck ups on the pitch today, understand? I don’t give a flying fuck you got no sleep and ate shit on the pavement.”

His lips formed a pout that drew Roy’s gaze like a magnet.

“Fucking get back out there!” Roy yelled.

Jamie blinked and nodded before doing what he was told, leaving Roy alone in the boot room. He felt out of control. Not quite as bad after he couldn’t get back a hold of Jamie this morning and worrying like a knob. It looked like he fell, which not the best thing to have happen but leagues better than what Roy had been coming up with in the dark. Better because it wasn’t some lie to hide an ugly truth. But Roy felt like he was still reeling. Ashley had fooled him once and the guilt had been scarring. And Jamie wasn’t even seeing anyone, so Roy knew it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be. But he had a bad taste in his mouth and a hard-earned gut feeling that was making his stomach hurt. He would have to keep a closer eye, he reasoned and tried to get a handle on his blood pressure.

It was no use.

The entire day Roy felt like screaming. Jamie was subdued and it was wrong, wrong, wrong. Even the other Greyhounds had noticed. Giving him looks when during morning workout Jamie just stuck to the treadmill not even bothering with his music or showing off his biceps, more looks through to lunch when he picked at his food and not because he was talking someone’s ear off, and now full-on staring at him dead asleep on his yoga mat. They were all in the second floor conference room, backs to the windows looking out onto the pitch. Everyone was seated doing hamstring stretches while Jamie lay on his back, chest rising and falling in a slow roll. Roy placed himself beside Jamie and on his other side was Colin who did a double take, just having noticed he hadn’t sat up with the rest of them.

“Maybe we should let him sleep?” He caught Roy’s eye and whispered.

Hughes was a good lad. Roy nodded magnanimously and reached for his toes. The instructor at the head of the room called out directions to stand and flow into warrior pose so he did that while keeping an eye on Jamie who didn’t even twitch as the lads around him moved. He was out like a light, mouth open and face lax, his socked toes wiggling to a bouncy rhythm that Roy had learned from rooming with him in Wolverhampton meant that he was fully sleeping.

“Now into warrior two,” the instructor called in a posh accent. He had a soothing voice, and it got more than just Jamie by the end of the class thirty minutes later. In the row of players in front of Roy, Zoreaux was stretched out so much that O’Brien had to shuffle to the side, and behind them near the window, Bumbercatch was nodding off in a square of sunlight. Stifled chuckles started up after the yoga instructor left and Beard went around snapping pictures of the napping team. Usually, Ted would have been here, but he left after his family had arrived. Beard looked ready to fall asleep himself, wearing a black ZZ Top t-shirt and grey joggers he donned for yoga. His eyes were sparkling though, hunched over and sticking his phone right near Moe’s face. Rolling up the yoga mat he brought from home, Roy watched as Bumbercatch came to enough to notice Beard standing over him.

“Oi!” He cried.

“Aw shit, that one’s going to be blurry,” Beard sighed.

A sharp gasp beside Roy took his focus away from their good-natured bickering. Bumbercatch was as good as sleeping and Beard was indeed the most inflexible man in existence. Jamie looked paler than before as he looked around with wide cloudy eyes. The lads were meandering out of the conference room, but a few called out to Jamie at his abrupt rise to sitting. He stared after them, reaching up to rub at his eyes before noticing that Roy was standing beside him.

“ ‘d I miss yoga?” he asked.

“The whole thing,” Roy confirmed and raised an eyebrow at his crestfallen expression. “You alright, Tartt?”

Jamie curled forward and hung his head. “Fine.”

A doubtful noise sounded behind them, and they both looked to find Beard looking down at Jamie with a pinched together brow. “Doesn’t look like it to me. How about you Roy?”

“You look like shit,” Roy said and reached down.

Jamie grumbled but took his offered hand, wincing when Roy pulled him up. “Hot shit though?”

An amused snort shot out of Roy’s nose. “Yeah, fuckin’ sure.”

“Your complexion’s not looking so good, you know,” Beard said. Jamie shot him a half-hearted glare. “You coming down with something, Tartt?”

“Nah. Just trouble sleeping—” Here Roy scoffed. “I’ll be fine for the match.”

“Hm.”

Jamie stooped to collect his yoga mat and Roy suspected to avoid Beard’s searching gaze. “Well,” he said, “you look an awful lot like Casper the friendly ghost right now so I’d suggest ordering an Uber.”

Jamie looked like he was flagging just from trying to keep up with the conversation. “Nah.”

Roy let out a thoughtful grunt. “He’s got a point, you shouldn’t be driving with zero hours sleep, Tartt.”

“Oof, zero hours? Man, it’s no wonder you fell asleep. Karthik’s voice is as sweet as an angel’s too.”

The betrayed look Jamie sent Roy was undercut by a massive yawn. “Fuck off the both of you,” he said and stormed off. It lacked any heat and fed Beard’s wary expression.

“I don’t like the idea of him driving himself home.”

He sent a sidelong look at Roy as they started together for the exit. Roy glowered at him, seeing his angle immediately. “And you think he’d accept a ride from me?”

“No doi.”

“Not fucking happening. He’s long gone by now anyway.”

The hallway outside the conference room was empty of Jamie but Roy was proven wrong when as Beard held the door open to the dressing room for him, Roy saw that the striker was seated on the bench of his cubby. Slumped with his elbows on his knees and scrolling through his phone, not even looking up at their entrance. He felt Beard’s pointed look and couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. As Roy passed Jamie on the way to his own cubby, he felt his lips pull down at what the striker was wearing. Dark hoodie and light washed jeans that he could have sworn Jamie had worn yesterday and then his eye caught on the rip of the right knee and the dirt that was smeared on the denim.

He changed into his own clothes, pondering how odd it was that Jamie, who would sometimes have up to three outfit changes in a single day would wear the same clothes two days in a row. When he stood up straight and zipped up his jacket Roy turned with his arms crossed to watch Jamie who was still slumped on the bench in front of his cubby.

“G’night, fellas,” Beard called. Roy met his gaze as the coach bowed out of the room and earned himself a head nod. 

Jamie looked up like a meercat until the door closed and then swung his head around to look at Roy. “What?”

“You planning on going home any time soon?”

“Why?”

Roy gritted his teeth. “I’m getting real sick of your fucking one-word answers.”

“Dunno what you want to hear, mate. Just leave me alone.”

“Jamie…” Roy snapped and then growled out a frustrated breath. “Just. Come on. You’re going to go home and you’re going to fucking sleep.”

 A scowl came to mar Jamie’s face but eventually he nodded, conceding the staring match. “Fucking fine.”

Roy started walking, wondering how he was going to mention he’d be driving Jamie when the sound of the other man’s footsteps stopped. “Fucking what now?” Roy growled and wheeled around to find Jamie standing stock-still, his eyes wide and scared, chest moving like a rabbit’s taking in shallow breaths. “Jamie?”

His eyes snapped to Roy’s as he clutched at his chest and hunched forward. Adrenaline had Roy flying forward and gripping his shoulders. “What is it? What—"

“-Roy,” he gasped, “Roy, something’s wrong.” He pawed at his chest, breaths of air becoming frantic. “Fuck’s happening? Can’t breathe.” His other hand tried to latch onto Roy’s arm, but it was stuck in a fist, so he held Jamie’s hand to his arm for him. “What’s happening? What’s happening? Roy, help.”

Sudden understanding made Roy almost dizzy with relief. He knew how to handle this. “Hey, hey,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster. “Jamie, you can breathe, you’re having a panic attack.”

Unshed tears brightened Jamie’s blue eyes as he shook his head at him. “No, something’s wrong, Roy, it hurts.” His heaving breaths were loud in the empty dressing room.

“I know, I know it feels like that.” Roy cupped the back of Jamie’s neck with his other hand then swept his palm up to hold the back of his head steady to keep his gaze. “It’s a panic attack, Jamie. Just breathe with me, okay, you’re going to be alright.”

The lad started really hyperventilating and tried to pull into himself, but Roy held the back of his head firm and dragged Jamie’s fist to land on the breast pocket of his leather jacket. “Breathe with me, deep breaths, you can to it.” Roy inhaled deeply, holding Jamie’s hand steady so it rose out on his chest and then in when he exhaled. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t—” Jamie gasped, staring at his hand on Roy’s chest desperately. He sank down to his knees and Roy followed.

“You can talk, you can breathe,” Roy said, still gently, trying to disguise his worry that Jamie was going to pass out. A couple tears eked out of Jamie’s eyes but he tried. He coached Jamie through a few more gasping breaths until they evened out a bit. As he started to be able to control his breathing he tore his eyes away from Roy’s steadily breathing chest to his eyes, panicked and searching.

“You’re okay. Doing great,” Roy reassured. “Now tell me what you see, anything at all.” Jamie shook his head, his eyes wide and scared. “You see my ugly face, right? What else?”

“Yeah, your face,” Jamie wheezed desperately, “your jacket…”

“Good, great job, what else?”

“I dunno, I dunno.”

He started panting again and Roy tightened his grip on Jamie’s wrist and moved his hand around, prompting Jamie to refocus on his breathing. “Alright, now something you smell. Go on.”

Roy watched Jamie’s nostrils flare and then his eyes squeeze shut. “Leather. And, and your cologne.”

“Yeah. Ralph Lauren Obsidian.”

Jamie let out a tearful laugh. “Obsidian?”

Roy smirked. “Knew you’d get a kick out of that.” Jamie nodded and bowed his head so he was almost touching Roy’s chest, sending a whiff of his jasmine shampoo up in the air. They knelt on the hard floor as Roy stayed quiet, measuring out his breaths and Jamie doing his best to match his pace, frantically inhaling when he lost the rhythm and settling back down. It took a few excruciating minutes but finally Jamie was able to control himself a little more so that he was out of breath rather than like he was drowning. His knuckles against Roy’s leather jacket shifted open to digging fingertips.

 “Good lad,” Roy rumbled, “Now what can you feel? Things you can touch.”

Jamie tensed and tried closing his mouth, his next breaths flowing sharply through his nose. Roy waited through the pain growing in his knee.

 “The floor?”

The smallness of Jamie’s voice made Roy involuntarily tighten his hold on Jamie’s hand against his chest. “Good, what else? C’mon and breathe, Jamie.”

A jerky nod as Jamie gulped in air. “Uh, you.”

“Right. You cold? Hot?”

Jamie nodded again, not speaking until he could breathe through his nose again. “Cold, yeah cold.”

“You’re doing fucking great. Now what can you hear?”

“The lights,” he sighed. They were buzzing overheard. “Me voice.”

“Good.”

“Your voice.”

“Good. How do you feel?” Roy let Jamie’s hand down and moved his own to the lad’s upper back. Waiting while it shuddered. Roy felt when Jamie’s back muscles locked up right before he flinched away and scrambled upward. He swayed where he stood, and Roy slowly rose ready to catch him if he fell but he backed away.

“Fucking don’t know what that was, sorry,” he said, looking everywhere but at Roy and swiping at his eyes.

“It’s fine. Was a panic attack.” Jamie almost looked at Roy but instead shot a confused look at the floor. “You ever had one before?”

He got a shake of the head. “No. Or I don’t… I don’t know.”

“My sister used to have them all the time at uni,” Roy said and motioned to Jamie’s fidgeting hands inside the bottom of his hoodie. “Her jaw would lock up and she couldn’t talk.”

Jamie risked a glance at him. “Sounds awful.”

“It was.”

Jamie breathed out slowly and ran a hand over his face. “I feel so weird,” he mumbled, “like I’m in a fucking dream.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen on no sleep and a fucking panic attack.”

“Oh.”

There it was. That simmering feeling under Roy’s skin from the boot room. Starting up again as he watched Jamie try to make himself small, leaving him confused because he didn’t want to punch the lad this time. Rather wanted to punch Jamie’s distress away and- oh. Roy gave a shit about him. Not just as one of his teammates but as someone he cared about. That’s why he hated seeing Jamie struggle like this. The prick had somehow wormed his way into the miniscule circle of people that Roy cared about.

“Why don’t you come with me to mine?” Roy heard himself ask.

Jamie looked up at him then, suspicion clear on his face but Roy could see the hope hiding behind it. His vivid eyes were red rimmed, and his lashes wet. Roy’s simmering feeling threatened to boil over, but he squashed it down.

“C’mon, get your coat.”

Jamie’s face hardened and a wall came up behind his eyes. “I don’t need your charity. You can just go.”

“No.” Roy crossed his arms for good measure.

“But why?” Jamie growled, “You don’t even like me.”

“It’s not about liking you.”

“Oh, fuck you. What’s it about then? You’re trying to trick me aren’t you? You and—"

“-Trick you?”

“-Lasso with your mind games. Trying to—"

“-Why would I trick you?”

“-Trying to bring me down. Trying to sabotage me so I don’t get minutes.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s not fucking fair! Just leave me alone!”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Roy roared, seeing red. “Why the fuck are you fighting me? I’m just trying to fucking help you.” Jamies whole body seized in the start of a flinch before he froze, and his pupils dilated like that was the only part of his body he couldn’t keep still.

Roy stiffened where he stood. He felt the air leave him like he was punched as his eyes bored into Jamie’s. “Shit, Jamie, I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to hit you,” he said.

Jamie didn’t respond, just crossed his arms tightly and kept watch on Roy’s face and hands. Swearing under his breath, Roy closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against them until he saw stars. When he opened them, he did his best to sound calm. He couldn’t fall into old habits and let himself be baited, not when Jamie was clearly not alright.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m not fucking good at this. But you need to relax. You’re fucking sleep deprived. Paranoid as fuck. You’re gonna work yourself up to another panic attack. I’m just trying to help you.”

Jamie looked away while his shoulders slumped down then glanced back with cautious eyes. He could see how much Jamie wanted to believe him and Roy felt something in his chest splinter. 

“Just come with me to mine, we can get something to eat, watch shit telly, and then you can fuck off when you’re feeling well enough.” Jamie searched Roy’s hard expression. Roy was growing more certain that he needed to make sure the kid in front of him was okay. He was about to ask again for the third time, pride be damned, when Jamie spoke up.

“Yeah, alright then.” He sounded closer to himself. Even if it was a poor attempt to seem uncaring.

Roy felt his frown ease a fraction and nodded to cover it up. “Good, let’s fucking go.”

He led the way out to his car and Jamie climbed in the passenger seat like Roy was going to bite him. A stirring of doubt prickled over him as he glared at Jamie looking all around, even into the backseat where Phoebe had left a colouring book. He started the short drive with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, trying not to let himself feel exposed. In his periphery he saw Jamie wrap his arms around himself. While warmer than yesterday it was still quite cold out and the heat was still working its way to warm inside the car. Roy leaned to the side, extended his arm past Jamie to the doorhandle and turned on his seat warmer. Jamie tensed at the movement and didn’t relax until Roy retreated out of his space.

“Dunno why you don’t have a fucking jacket.”

Jamie’s eyes on him were like a weight trying to pull his focus from the road. “Sorry about earlier.” Silence grew inside the car as Roy elected not to respond. “Don’t really know why I said those things. Like I know you’re not out to get me?”

Roy’s eyes flicked to Jamie from the red traffic lights in front of them. He didn’t sound sure and he was worrying the hem of his hoodie sleeves. He didn’t know who was sitting in his passenger seat. Looked like Jamie Tartt, smelled like Jamie Tartt, didn’t act like Jamie Tartt.

“Oh, but I am. Out to get you,” Roy said, letting out a teasing smirk when Jamie snapped his head around to look at him. The hurt look on his face froze while he took in Roy’s expression and Roy held his breath. Then his blue eyes rounded, his lips twisting to fight a smile and Roy’s stomach swooped. “I’ve got you now,” Roy went on, “fucking kidnapped you and everything.”

Roy hid wince. He sounded like a twat. But then Jamie laughed. Clear delight that soothed away any embarrassment he felt so he pressed on. “You tell anyone where I live, I’ll cut you up into little pieces and use you as fertilizer for my garden and then when everyone’s wondering, oh, where did Jamie go? I’ll be fucking watching you sprout up as fucking daises or whatever the fuck my niece wants to plant.”

Jamies lips twitched. “You have a garden?”

Roy let out a warning growl that Jamie only chuckled at. “Sorry, sorry. Ahem, do you have a hat? That you garden in—" he said before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Roy allowed the behaviour on account that the fumes Jamie was running on were making him loopy. By the time his giggles subsided they had turned onto Roy’s street and the younger man was peering out the window.

“Holy shit. This is fucking posh.”

Roy grunted in agreement. Jamie ogled out the window until they were parked in front of Roy’s corner terrace before the garage, and he seemed to hesitate. Jamie undid his seat belt but made no move to get out of the car.

“Come on,” Roy said, “It’s proper time you see how a grown-up lives.”

That urged a pale smile up on Jamie’s lips and he followed Roy’s lead out the car and up the front steps. “Grandad you mean?”

“Oi, you going to be under my roof then you can show me some respect.”

“Hm, nah I don’t think applies when you’ve been kidnapped. I dunno, though, you know.”

Jamie’s eyes were glittering, and it almost coaxed a grin from Roy. “Fucking cheeky,” he grumbled. Jamie smiled back at him, his lips curving up wide around his teeth. It made him look rather stunning in a way Roy found distinctly alarming. He turned away to open the front door. “Go on then. Or I’ll fucking. Cut your fingers off or something. The gaffer will probably pay your ransom.”

“Oh fuck,” Jamie laughed, “I’d rather you keep me then. Full on stocked home syndro- whoa.”

Roy lifted a wry eyebrow as Jamie did a full turn, looking up at the steep ceilings with his jaw hanging down. His cut off voice echoed in the entryway off of the checkered black and white tile to the half-paneled walls where frosted glass sconces on their black mounts lined the painted cream upper walls of the hallway and the dark wood of the bottom half flowed into the winding mahogany staircase with its square banister and iron railings. From the ceiling hung the chandelier, reaching down two floors and filling the width of the stairwell, it was made up of hundreds of little crystals and glass bulbs and tapering black iron rods sweeping down in a gentle wave. A warm feeling came to life in Roy’s chest as Jamie craned his neck up at it with an enthralled look. He could tell that Jamie was impressed as he came to a stop under a patch of sunlight pouring in from the second-floor window. It cast rainbow prisms off the crystal shards of the chandelier in a dazzling array, edging the interior away from something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story into something more bright and modern.

Shrugging off his leather jacket, Roy watched Jamie adopt a strange look on his face. He was staring at the huge arrangement of white orchids on the sleek side table parallel to the stairs, eyes roaming over the petals and grey ceramic vase before flicking them back to the door. Like there was some kind of weight tethering him by the neck, Jamie leaned backward and looked at Roy with his bottom lip trapped under his front tooth. It bounded free as he opened his mouth and Roy felt his arm freeze on the coat rack, hand still on his leather jacket now between a Richmond raincoat and Pheobe’s yellow pint sized one.

Searching for something, anything to say while Jamie hesitated on the threshold, Roy was at a loss. He could feel the tenuous hold he had on the situation start to fray as Jamie glanced back at the door again.

“Uh, maybe I should just, you know…”

Somewhat desperately, Roy held his arm out toward the hallway, a silent plea for Jamie to come with him. The lad frowned and his eyes, grey in the sunlit hallway narrowed and searched Roy’s own. No part of him wanted to let Jamie run. If he tried it then Roy would chase after him and the realization of that knocked him off balance a little. He might be slower these days but he had been the fastest in the league at one point, and Jamie would probably be faster than he ever was one day, but it wasn’t today. Especially if he was operating on no sleep, Roy could outrun Jamie for as long as it took to catch him.

For whatever reason he hadn’t figured out yet, Jamie needed help. He couldn’t have known it but he was standing right where Roy’s sister had been when they had the biggest fight of their lives. He had yelled then. Betrayed that Ashley was someone he didn’t know anymore and too hurt by her torrent of insults to stop her from storming out with Phoebe. It was over a year later that she was back and damaged because Roy hadn’t known. So, while he knew that Jamie wasn’t in the same situation, Roy couldn’t tell the difference. And he wasn’t about to make the same mistakes all over again.

“You’re not faster than me,” Roy warned, “so don’t even think about it.”

Jamie’s expression didn’t change. He kept on weighing Roy with his gaze until something he saw seemed to pass whatever test being given and then he looked down. When Jamie looked up again it was to shoot Roy a boyish smile. “Reckon I am though.”

Relief threatened to make Roy smile back. “In your fucking dreams maybe.”

“Ha, maybe,” Jamie said, walking forward to precede Roy down the hall. Resisting a strange urge to place his hand on the lad’s back, Roy followed him like a herding dog. “Only ‘cause I feel like shit. Any other day, you’d eat my dust.”

“Hot shit you mean?” Roy reminded him. He was rewarded with a shocked snort and a bright, if not tired grin Jamie slowed to gift him. “This way,” he said and led the way.

“Loo is there,” Roy said and pointed to the right where at the end of the hallway and around the corner was the bathroom behind the stairs. He went left though the second doorway, past the drawing room where his gym equipment lived and lead Jamie into the living room. Roy went to stand beside the closest dark leather sofa. Another one ran perpendicular to it, so they were both facing the fireplace on the far wall and the immense television beside it. Completing the box that the sofas started to form were two plush arm chairs the same oatmeal colour as the cushions on the leather couches.

“Didn’t know you were some kind of interior decorator.” Surrounded by cream paneled walls and dark pine flooring, Jamie looked washed out. He trailed after Roy, eyes going to the recessed panels in the walls lined with different plants all in black ceramic pots and new books Roy wanted to read, then to the other end where it folded into the dining room, sectioned off by two ribbed columns on either end of the room the same colour as the walls. Before the partition the entire wall was taken up with tall windows and a French door leading out to the garden. Daylight flowed in through the glass like treacle and Jamie started to veer towards it, trying to get a better look at the terrace. It wasn’t much to look at now, just red brick walls with dead shrubbery on top of them and brown grass stretching under the barren trees to the lone football net at the far end. Roy stopped him by tapping him on the shoulder as he made to move past.

“Oi, sit there,” Roy said, pointing to the sofa. “I’ll get you a glass of water. Or d’you want tea?”

A scoff gusted out of Jamie’s mouth, and he rolled his eyes until he caught sight of Roy’s face and his expression stalled. Then his lips formed a perfect circle shape before settling into a thoughtful line, his full bottom lip making it seem like a pout.

“Water is good, yeah.”

Roy nodded and aimed himself toward the dining room but caught the look that came over Jamie’s face as he turned and stopped.

“Hey, Roy,” he said slowly, “Uh, thanks. This is really… I mean I just really appreciate this, man. Didn’t have to bother, you know. But thank you.”

He was looking more solemn than Roy had ever seen him, with wide eyes that were glittering in the light from the windows. A small wrinkle knitted his forehead and the tips of his ears were rosy. He was embarrassed. But his eyes were trained on Roy’s, not looking away or trying to hide it. A tendril of what felt like panic wormed around Roy’s gut and squeezed hard. It was too much trust. Blue eyes were staring into his soul and for a second, Roy had to avert his eyes down Jamie’s nose, to the bruise on his cheekbone, over to his jaw, then to the cleft in his chin before being drawn to his lips when the panic squeezed tighter.

“Yeah,” Roy ground out. “Welcome- you’re welcome.”

He sped away and left Jamie on his own, not knowing what to do with the vulnerability being offered. The exposed brick wall, ebony counters, and stainless-steel appliances that made up his kitchen sanctuary did not evoke the usual pull of relief once he stepped inside. Roy didn’t even spare a glance out the glass doors to the terrace. He couldn’t make sense of it and as he busied himself with getting a glass of water, he realized that he didn’t know Jamie Tartt at all. The blustery prick Roy thought he hated wasn’t the same as the one standing in his living room. Not the one that just bared his throat and handed Roy a metaphorical knife. A sleeve of biscuits found their way into Roy’s hands along with a tablet of paracetamol to go with the glass of water and he didn’t let himself acknowledge the surreal feeling that came over him.

“Here,” Roy said as he made his way out the kitchen and back through the dining room. “I remember you saying your head…oh.”

Jamie was reclined in the end seat, head lolling backward and mouth parted, breathing deep, slow breaths in and out. His shut eyes didn’t even flutter as Roy approached in hesitant bursts. He placed the glass of water on the side table beside Jamie, on the heavy stone coaster and biscuits and pain killer right beside it. Now that he could look without consequence, Roy took a step back and examined the sleeping man. Surrounded by the warm leather of the couch, Jamie’s skin looked unnaturally pale, making the light bruise on his cheekbone stand out. It was an ugly blue now. His scratched-up palms were fisted in the sleeves of his hoodie fidgeting with the fabric in his sleep, and Roy could see the scrape on his knee starting to scab over. Roy sighed and went to grab a blanket from the wooden trunk in the corner, cursing in his head as he went. The muppet was an idiot for running at night. No headlamp, no proper footwear, and in jeans no less it was a wonder he hadn’t twisted an ankle.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Roy told Jamie as he draped Phoebe’s blanket over him. It was pink cashmere, sinfully soft and Phoebe’s favourite. His niece wouldn’t mind loaning it out for a stray, Roy thought. Jamie remained sleeping as the fabric settled over him but curled himself inward after Roy made sure he was covered. Lingering a moment to make sure Jamie stayed sleeping, Roy looked over him again. He looked tired. Worn out in a way no twenty-three-year-old should be. What he needed was rest so Roy headed back into the kitchen and started thinking about dinner. He’d let Jamie sleep for a few hours and by then he would likely be up for eating something. That gave Roy more than enough time to come up with something. Normally he would cook whatever was quick and efficient for himself and whenever he had Phoebe, time always was in short supply so he never really got a chance to spend time on a recipe. As Roy peered into the fridge he felt a thrill at the idea. He could allow himself to wile away a few hours in the kitchen while Jamie got some rest.

-

Sleep lifted off of him slowly. Caught in that nebulous place between consciousness and oblivion, Jamie was engulfed in a warm and fuzzy feeling. A crackling noise sounded from somewhere far off and brought him crashing out of sleep. His heart started to hammer in his chest as he realized he didn’t know where he was. Jamie ignored the influx of panic; he kept his eyes closed and face lax as he listened to his surroundings. Don’t make a sound, don’t move a muscle, Jamie told himself as fear gripped him. There was a fire close by, he heard the flames flicker and the wood pop. It was warm. Confused, Jamie realized that he was extremely comfortable. That would never happen if his dad was about and all at once he remembered his whole day after leaving his house this morning. Jamie opened his eyes and lifted his head from where it was resting on his shoulder to find a pink blanket covering him. His arms were crossed underneath it, holding it lightly to himself and Jamie marveled at the softness as he looked around. Now that his initial terror was wearing off, Jamie realized that while he was still tired, he felt way better than before.

He blinked at the fireplace to his left. It was the same creamy colour of the walls with a gaping black interior that held a crackling fire. Flames danced on the small stack of logs, embers and smoke gusting up through the chimney and he could smell the wood burning. And something else. Jamies stomach rumbled as he turned his head the other way and realized a few things at once, the first being that it was dark outside. Black curtains covered the windows but there were none on the door to the terrace, which Jamie could see through the glass, golden lights refracting on the other side and nothing else. That meant he had been sleeping on Roy’s couch like an idiot for hours. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. And Roy himself was nowhere to be seen but judging from the smell- tomato sauce, onions, and simmering meat, he guessed Roy must be in the kitchen.

An uneasy feeling thrummed in his gut as he wondered how long he had been out for. Surely Roy hadn’t expected to have him here so long. It urged him into sitting up but when he did he gasped as pain tore in his shoulder. Biting back a groan, Jamie held it with his other hand and breathed through the pain until it subsided. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed from his bowed position that there was a glass of water on the table beside the arm of the couch. Jamie stared at it. There was a sleeve of biscuits and a paracetamol beside the glass Roy put there for him as well. Quite suddenly, Jamie felt his throat close up. Roy let him sleep, put a blanket on him, lit a fire, and brought him water and a snack. The corners of his eyes started to prickle, and Jamie gave his head a forceful shake. It was nice. He didn’t know why Roy was doing all this but since Jamie was selfish at his core, he wanted to horde the feeling anyway. So, he downed the painkiller and water then stood up only to sway as black dots sizzled in the edges of his vision. For a moment he was unsure if his shaky legs would hold him but he was able to steady himself and breathe through the wave of lightheadedness until his vision cleared.

He was starving. The last time he ate was yesterday at lunch since he absolutely didn’t count the one bite of chicken he had at lunch today. There was a gnawing pit in his stomach and the empty feeling slithered through to his legs and arms all the way to his fingers making them shake. His body was used to burning through calories and after more than twenty-four hours without proper food, he was feeling it. Jamie focused on the tension behind his eyes, the ache of it to clear his head. He wasn’t that much of an idiot to know that Roy wouldn’t want him sticking around so Jamie planned his next move. He folded the pink blanket, still warm from his body heat and ran his fingers over the soft wool before draping over the back of the couch. Then he grabbed the biscuits and started shoving them into his mouth. Six of them went down like nothing and he washed two more down with the rest of the water. It wasn’t enough to make a dent in his hunger but would hopefully stave off the shakes. Unwilling to push his luck, he would just wait until he got home to eat but the thought of his house was like ice water dripping down his back. His dad could still be there. Trashing Jamie’s place and cleaning out the entire fridge most likely if he hadn’t gotten bored and left.

The crackers suddenly felt heavy in his stomach and threatened to make a reappearance. Like before when Roy had been rushing him out of the dressing room, the thought of going home where his dad might be waiting caused his heart to start racing and his chest to constrict.

A panic attack Roy called it.

Obviously, he knew people had them but it was never something he concerned himself with. Only, he thought he might have had them before. Fragmented memories of not being able to breathe as he hid in the dark, or clutching onto his mum as his dad punched another hole in the bathroom door, but it just as easily could have been a nightmare he couldn’t distinguish from reality. He didn’t know. But either way, he could feel it start to happen again. His chest felt too tight like something was crushing his rib cage and he gasped, needing to suck in air before it was too late. Then, a loud pop cracked from the fire and it shocked Jamie into opening his eyes to look wildly around. Roy’s living room came into view and Jamie could feel the heat of the fire again. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed out, focusing on things he hadn’t noticed before.

Behind the other sofa at the other end of the room he could make out a small white table and one tiny chair with a little cardigan slung over it. There was a teal boombox on it and stacked jars of play-doh and Jamie remembered that Roy had a niece. Pictures of a little blonde girl, Roy, and a woman with similarly thick eyebrows sat inside several of the recessed panels on the wall beside the fireplace. There was a shelf next to it that displayed pictures of Roy in his Chelsea kit and Jamie instantly recognized the one taken just after the goal that won Chelsea the Champions League. Roy yelling in victory, his arms braced outward and hands in fists with his long hair damp with sweat. Jamie shivered as goosebumps prickled over his skin. He was in Roy Kent’s home. Standing in his living room while the man himself was cooking dinner. It was high time Jamie left so he gave himself another minute to calm himself, until the smell wafting in from the kitchen started to make him hungry again and not ill.

He reached for his phone inside his pocket, dread twisting with hunger in his stomach until he was looking at the screen and all hunger vanished. The time read 8:37 PM but he was focused on the list of notifications stacked from top to bottom. They were all missed calls and truncated messages from his dad. Jamie’s thumb swiped and tapped until he was in the conversation. The texts spanned from around mid-morning to well past noon, everything Jamie had heard before. Accusations that he was ungrateful, curse ridden tirades that he was worthless, stupid, soft, threats that he needed the respect beaten back into him and to be reminded where he came from, the usual. He shouldn’t have been surprised that it hurt, but it did. Shame threatened to choke him but he shoved it down and scanned the texts again. There wasn’t anything that would indicate if he was still darkening Jamie’s doorstep and that was the only thing he needed to know.

There was nothing for it then. He wasn’t a baby. He’d find Roy, tell him thanks and then head back home to whatever was waiting for him there. Settled on a course of action, Jamie pushed down the dread bubbling up and braced himself to move.

Chapter Text

Determined to carry on with his plan, Jamie headed in the direction Roy did when he left to get a glass of water. And biscuits. And paracetamol. There was a dimly lit chandelier in the dining room. Unlike the immense one in the entryway, this one was smaller and round but with the same kind of crystals and black iron trills. On the table below it were crayons and a mess of construction paper on the end close to the kitchen and Jamie could make out what looked like different coloured cats on his way passed toward the bloom of light around the corner.

He could hear sounds of chopping as he got close to the archway and when he walked from the dark hardwood of the living area into the grey stone tile of the kitchen, he found Roy stationed at a huge island with black sides and warm wood top. He was facing the doorway looking at ease in the bright light. His eyebrows were relaxed and so was his mouth, until he looked up when Jamie entered. The scattered pot lights on the ceiling and line of hanging tungsten lights of burnished black iron that Roy seemed fond of lit up the startled look on his face. Amongst the pot lights two timber support beams ran along from one end where Jamie entered to the exposed brick wall on the other side with black shelving and counters that matched the kitchen island Roy was standing at.

“You’re awake—”

“Uh, hey—"

They both cleared their throats and Jamie motioned for Roy to speak in a jerky motion with his hand he turned into smoothing down his hair, silently mortified at the disarrayed shape his fingers felt.

“How you feeling?” Roy asked. He had a small frown on his face and an intense look in his dark eyes like he was looking for a fight but it passed as quickly as it came.

Jamie, expecting a rebuttal for overstaying his welcome fought to keep the surprise off his face. “Um, good. Yeah, loads better. Uh thanks,” he said and raised the empty glass in his hands and mostly gone sleeve of biscuits. He sidled to the nearest countertop and his eyes were drawn to the gas range that held two steel pots both at a simmer and a covered cast iron one. It smelled like an Italian restaurant; warm, savory, and inviting. It coaxed a whine out of Jamie’s stomach that he hoped Roy didn’t hear as he set down the glass and biscuits. His captain looked pleased at Jamie’s answer, all warm dark eyes and straight back. Muscled, hairy forearms hovered above the cutting board in front of him, one corded hand gripping an expensive looking knife and what looked like flour dusting the divot between his shoulder and pec, obvious against the black fabric. Standing in his own kitchen, Roy looked just as at home with a chef’s knife in his hand as he did on the pitch and Jamie felt his ears start to heat up.

He absolutely needed to leave. “I should, uh- I better get going, like. Get out of your—"

“What?” Roy growled. “I fucking made dinner.” He motioned to the strawberries he was chopping and the wooden bowl of greens beside it to the pots on the stove. “You’re just going to fuck off? That’s rude even for you, Tartt.”

Jamie felt the flush in his ears spread to his face. “Oh. You mean… you mean I can… you want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” Roy said, frowning. “Didn’t make all this for my fucking self, you muppet.”

His tone was angry and standoffish but Jamie had been around enough to know that there was no real heat behind it. And he hadn’t called him an idiot or a prick. Muppet was new but as far as insults went bounced right off. It certainly beat going home to be called much worse if his dad was still there. Jamie knew he should just get it over with and go home but he was rather hungry. And Roy Kent was looking at him with those eyes like he wanted Jamie to stay and he found himself suppressing a smile.

“Okay. Yeah, yeah sound.”

Roy grunted and narrowed his eyes at the grin that spread over Jamie’s face. “That’s what I fucking thought. Now wash your hands and bring the water up to boil. I trust you know how to work a stove.”

“Think I can manage that,” Jamie chirped. He clapped his hands together and rushed toward the sink. The prospect of not only putting off going home a little longer but hanging out with Roy fucking Kent catapulted his mood into the stratosphere. Still a little worried about pushing his luck though, Jamie didn’t even linger at the sink to peer through the blinds of the window looking out into the dark terrace even with curiosity hounding him. He bounded to the stove and identified the pot of water through the steamy clear lid, turning the dial while he peered at the other pots. Tomato sauce was simmering in one and the smell set his stomach off again, growling loudly and sending a cramp rippling through it. The other one though, Jamie couldn’t see. The dark, round cast iron was covered by a lid but his nose told him there was meat inside. Helpless against a surge of curiosity, Jamie reached for the lid. There was a hiss and then Roy’s hand was around his tattooed wrist.

“Oi! That’s hot,” Roy growled. He pulled Jamie away and brandished his wrist so his hand flopped about. “I don’t need you to burn your fucking fingers before the match tomorrow.”

Jamie’s eyebrows shot up at Roy glaring down at him with that heated look again. This was the second time today that Roy grabbed him like this and Jamie swallowed. They weren’t so different in height but this close he had to look up. Long lashes framed Roy’s expectant glare, so lush that he could have been wearing eyeliner on the bottom and the sight dried Jamie’s mouth out. Combined with the way Roy was still hanging on to his wrist it made the room feel far too warm.

“Well, I don’t need them to play, do I?” Jamie said and then cleared his throat when he heard the squeak in his voice. “Was only trying to have us a look. It smells fucking amazing.”

Roy grunted but it sounded half-hearted. He released Jamie’s wrist and offered the cutting board he was holding. “Here, put this in the water.”

Jamie took the board and looked down, gasping at what he found. “Oh my God, Roy! Did you make the fucking pasta?”

Another grunt from Roy, but he wasn’t nearly as put out as he tried to make it sound, Jamie could tell. He moved back to the stove and cast a heavily eyebrowed gaze over it. “It’s boiling, we don’t have all fucking day.”

“Didn’t know you were some kind of chef.” Jamie’s eyes were roving over the four perfectly coiled mounds of soft, flat noodles. They were dusted with flour that coated the wood cutting board.

“I’m not,” Roy said, “just wanted to try out that fucking thing. Never made it from scratch before.”

He nodded towards a boxy steel contraption with a turn handle on the other side of the island. Jamie had never seen such a thing before but was already shaking his head. “Roy Kent, footballer chef. Can’t convince me otherwise.”

Roy made another rumbling noise that Jamie couldn’t work out were actual words or not but he elected not to tease. This was his chance to get Roy Kent to like him and after the disaster that was the season so far, Jamie didn’t want to risk it. He held the board in his left hand, and ignoring the stitch of pain from his bad shoulder and carefully lowered the noodles into the boiling water. Linguine his mind supplied.

“There!” He said with a grin and turned to Roy. “What next, cap?”

Roy looked a little confused and it took him a moment to answer. “Nothing, move out of the way.”

He moved in front of the stove with his elbow out as Jamie stepped back to give him room and lifted the lid off of the tomato sauce in order to give it a stir with the wooden spoon on the counter. Reeled in by the smell, Jamie leant into Roy’s space resting a hand on the man’s shoulder so he could better peer over it. Before his brain could catch up with what it did the scent from the food overwhelmed him and he was unable to stop a moan from escaping his lips. It looked like there were meatballs, basil, and some other kind of leaf in the sauce. This time when Jamie’s stomach growled, there was no way that Roy didn’t hear it.

“Stop fucking bouncing,” Roy grumbled in a low voice. He sounded one breath away from a temper tantrum, but Jamie noticed with a beam that he hadn’t thrown off Jamie’s hand from his shoulder.

“Can’t help it,” Jamie said, “I’m starving.”

Hovering over the stove seemed to be heating Roy’s face pink so Jamie reluctantly stepped away again also feeling warm, but the paracetamol hadn’t kicked in enough for him to want to struggle through taking off his hoodie with the pain in his shoulder just yet.

“Well, it’s almost done. Why don’t you go add the dressing to the salad?”

Jamie’s head snapped in the direction of the island and he zipped away to do as he was bidden, getting his first real look at what Roy was working on when he came in. As far as vegetables went, salads weren’t really favourite but this one had crisp looking greens, roasted nuts, crumbled feta, pickled onions, and sliced strawberries. “Ohhhh,” Jamie crooned as he grabbed the small glass bowl beside it and poured in a dark vinaigrette. “Never had strawberries in a salad before-”

He froze and flicked his eyes at Roy, anticipating a dig about him being a child. But Roy only nodded staunchly. “It’ll fucking change your life.”

Jamie felt his lips pull up and he looked back down to hide it. This was now definitely the longest they had gone without fighting and it was doing things to his heartbeat. Roy turned back to the stove and Jamie took the chance to steal a strawberry. Sweet juice gushed from between his teeth mixing with the sharp bite of the vinaigrette and it drew out a pleased hum out of him.

“Oh shit, that’s good.”

“Told you,” Roy said without turning.

Jamie watched the back of his shoulders shift as he fished out the pasta noodles, letting his gaze travel down Roy’s back where it tapered into his waist, a solid V that made Jamie’s brain a little fuzzy. He was rendered stupid enough to let his eyes drift lower to admire the way his jeans hugged the back of his sculpted thighs and arse. Roy shifted his weight onto one hip and Jamie felt his heartbeat in his cock.

“Ha,” Jamie forced his eyes up. “Okay, okay you were right.”

He was an expert at pretending he wasn’t attracted to Roy, he didn’t need to panic about it now. It was just a crush. Not even a little bit different now that Roy brought him home, covered him in a blanket while he slept, and built him a fire. Flashes of the past couple weeks of every time Roy had been not an arsehole to him played in his head- telling him he could be great after the Wolverhampton match, badgering him to pass, buying him lunch and not punching him in the face, texting him last night to make sure he was okay. And today- getting him through a panic attack, reaching across him to put on Jamie’s seat warmer and now making him a world class dinner. Instantly, Jamie shook his head. Roy was just cooking. Not for him, it wasn’t a date. Just cooking because he needed to eat and Jamie just so happened to be here. That made much more sense and Jamie grasped at that thought and clung to it. It was easier to be harmlessly attracted with that in mind.

“What was that?” Roy asked.

“Huh?” Jamie jumped and snapped his eyes up from where they had drifted. He cleared his throat through the relief of Roy’s head still being turned away.

“What did you say?”

Jamie had to think for a second, licking his lips that tasted of strawberries. “Oh! Uh yeah, you were right. About the strawberries in salad thing. Fucking mint that is.”

“Say again?”

Jamie could hear the smirk in Roy’s voice and it had him pausing midway though an intake of breath and then huffing in embarrassment. “Oh, fuck off,” he said before he could stop himself.

Roy turned then and revealed he was actually smirking. “I was right? That is what you said?” It felt an awful lot like flirting. Little twinkling globes of light were reflecting in Roy’s dark eyes and Jamie remembered why sticking around was a bad idea, but a challenge had just been issued.

“I’ll call the press,” Jamie said and raised an eyebrow. “That what you want to hear?”

“Hmm.” Roy pretended to think and Jamie lost control of a smile. The idea of doing what Roy wanted was a sweet one. He could imagine it, the words soft as butter from his lips. Telling Roy that he was right, repeating it when he asked and drawing closer each time he said it. Until Jamie had him pressed against the counter then he’d switch it up. Tell him wisdom came from age or something like that and watch Roy’s eyes light up with a challenge. He’d tell Jamie to shut up only he wouldn’t and then Roy would flip them around so fast his head would spin, crushing his hips to Jamie’s and then slowly lowering his head before softly moulding their lips together and Jamie would be allowed to touch him and-

His ears caught fire and his brain short circuited. Usually Jamie’s fantasies would involve more of him on his knees with Roy shutting him up by thrusting his cock down his throat. Not…not with a gentle kiss. He just thought Roy was fit. He wasn’t soft on him. That wasn’t- he wasn’t-

Jamie forced his little fantasy away with a blank face born out of practice and it was then he noticed that Roy was piling food onto the two plates on the counter. Both held steaming mountains of fettucine, glistening red sauce and meatballs. Roy was pulling off the cast iron lid that he didn’t let Jamie touch earlier and it released a delicious aroma into the kitchen.

Jamie couldn’t help himself. He skipped forward so he was hovering behind Roy and looked over his shoulder. “Holy shit, Roy.”

“Fuck!” Roy jumped and Jamie did too. “You need to wear a fucking bell, Tartt.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jamie laughed and clapped Roy on the back. “Didn’t mean to give you no heart attack. But man, this looks amazin’.”

“Braised short ribs,” Roy growled. He carefully lowered two hunks of meat onto their beds of pasta and whisked away. Jamie stared at the food before him, struck by how this was a moment in his life now. He barely heard the fridge open and shut so busy as he was trying to commit everything to memory.

Roy came back with a block of parmesan and a grater like he just popped over from Italy and carefully dusted on the white cheese. He was entirely focused and Jamie couldn’t look away.

“There,” Roy said, “fuckin’ bon appetit. You hungry? Jamie?”

“Yeah!” Jamie rushed out, embarrassed to be caught staring. Roy had a single eyebrow raised. “Um yeah. Roy this is, this is… you didn’t have to do all this. But like thank you. Like for the food and for earlier. You know when I were losing my shit and, and you brought me to your house. And you- and my seat warmer and the fire and you let—”

Roy’s hand landed heavily on Jamie’s shoulder making him snap his mouth shut. Dread pooled in his stomach as he dragged his eyes to meet Roy’s.

“Oi, can’t believe I’m saying this but you’re thinking way too fucking much.”

“I am?” He certainly never had that accusation leveled at him before. Jamie found the bottom of his lip with his teeth and pressed down in thought before shaking his head. “No, no but like you’re being nice? And you don’t even, you don’t even…” He trailed off and looked at Roy. Really looked at him. His eyebrows were furrowed, gaze dancing all around Jamie’s face and his mouth a closed line. It looked a little like Roy wanted to punch him more than usual but his hand was warm and gentle above the cotton of Jamie’s hoodie.

“Holy. Shit. You like me.”

Roy rolled his eyes and took his hand back while heaving a huge sigh. “Jesus Christ.”

“No, no I think you do. Fuckin, brought me to your house, like I’m standing in your kitchen, dead give away that. And then this food, it’s like the best thing I’ve ever seen in me life, mate. And, and you texted me, been texting me. If you really didn’t like me you’d block me or summat, not just tell me to fuck off, yeah? But you were worried ‘bout me, said so yourself this morning and like now I didn’t have to go home and this is so much fucking better cause, cause… and you put a blanket over me and the fire and, and…what were I fucking saying? You like me.”

A muted growl was rumbling in Roy’s chest and his eyes were narrowed. “Do you want me to fucking pinch you something?”

Jamie’s eyes widened and he offered his arm while nodding. It didn’t feel like he was dreaming the way it did during his panic attack but he did feel lightheaded enough to not be completely sure. A strange look rippled over Roy’s face but he rolled his eyes and adopted his usual grave expression before reaching out and giving Jamie’s upper arm a firm pinch. He could feel Roy watching him as he waited and when nothing happened a smile lifted his lips up.

“Alright,” Roy drawled, “we’re eating and then it’s straight to bed with you. Come on.”

Still smiling as he followed Roy to the island, Jamie fell quiet. He climbed into the barstool next to Roy’s in a line of four. They had the same lacquered wood finish as the countertops with plush black seats that spun on their base. Jamie rocked himself left and right with his foot, wasting no time in twirling a fork into the pasta and shoving it into his mouth. The sound that escaped him belonged more inside a bedroom than the kitchen but he’d never had spaghetti like this. It bloomed in his mouth soft and rich with the tomato sauce. Jamie tried a bite of meatball next and closed his eyes in bliss.

“Oh my God, Roy,” Jamie moaned, “this is fucking amazing.”

At getting no answer from beside him, Jamie realized that Roy hadn’t moved an inch. Sitting, Roy’s longer torso placed him even higher than Jamie who could see the underside of his bearded jaw as he tilted his head away looking furious. His cheeks were still pink from standing over the oven and his eyes, now glaring sideways at Jamie were darker than usual.

“What?” Jamie asked and looked down, scanning for tomato sauce on his chest.

Roy cleared his throat. “You like it then?”

“Like it?” Jamie laughed and swatted Roy in the shoulder. “I fucking love it. Didn’t know you could make shit like this in a regular kitchen.”  Only because he was looking at Roy did Jamie see the smallest loss of tension that passed over his lips and it made his stomach flip. It was as close to a pleased smile that Roy ever got and confirmed that the weird bursts of anger Jamie was reading in his eyes was just Roy’s face.

“Good, yeah, good. Fucking eat then. Need the carbs for tomorrow.”

He turned to his own plate and started eating and Jamie watched the satisfaction grow on Roy’s face as he realized something that made him warm all over. Roy cared what he thought. Cared that Jamie Tartt liked the food he made. A huge grin started to form, and Jamie hurried to stuff more food in his mouth to hide it. The taste was enough to distract him out of a laughing fit and he played up a moan around a bite of lettuce and strawberry but then let loose one he couldn’t control when he tried the short rib. It was buttery and melted in Jamie’s mouth. He obliterated the rest of his plate, paying Roy compliments the whole time.

“Seriously, I can’t believe you made this,” he said around the last mouthful of strawberries and roasted nuts. Licking his lips he peeked inside the salad bowl to find that there was some left. He was still hungry, but he didn’t want to risk being rude and ask for more pasta. He turned to Roy. “I think you should let me finish that.”

Roy hummed noncommittally and stood up, grabbing his and Jamie’s plate. “Go on then,” he said and left.

“Thanks, Chef!” Jamie shoveled the rest of the salad into his mouth straight from the bowl. He was already finished when Roy returned, sliding another plate of pasta, meatballs, and short rib in front of him. Jamie blinked and looked between it and Roy. “Aw Roy, you do like me.”

“Just eat,” Roy growled and occupied himself with his own plate, noticeably less full than Jamie’s.

He did as bidden. His second helping went by slower now that he wasn’t starving and peppering Roy with questions as he was. By the time he finished, his belly was pleasantly full and he had learned two more personal things about Roy- that his grandad taught him how to make a fire and he wished he had time to cook more.

“What kinds of things you want to cook?” Jamie asked as he slipped off of the bar stool.

Roy thought for a moment, watching Jamie as he grabbed both empty plates. “Steak,” he said, “a fucking big one. Baste it and shit.”

“Base it? Oh yeah, that’d be mint.” Jamie said as he lowered the plates into the sink. He looked around the counter for dish soap and a sponge.

“Baste. Like fucking… spoon melted butter over it while it cooks.”

“Oh! Like Gordan Ramsay.” Jamie flashed Roy a sheepish grin at having been caught out before opening the cupboard below the sink and crouching down.

“What are you doing?” Roy asked.

Jamie rose and brandished what he was looking for. “Good idea, this. Going to steal it.” It was a shower caddy with dish soap and an assortment of sponges. “Me mum raised me to be respectful, like. I’m doing the washing up.”

“You’re not doing shit. I’ll do it in the morning.”

“And leave it overnight? Are you mad? As your mate, I have to tell you that’s dead gross.”

“Good thing we aren’t fucking mates,” Roy said as he came to stand beside Jamie.

“It’s too late for that now, Roy. Now where are your rubber gloves?”

“You know I have a dishwasher?”

“What, for this? Come on now.”

Roy growled low in his throat and it sent a thrill right down Jamie’s spine. He quashed a smile since the taller man actually looked annoyed and made him reconsider his earlier assessment of that look being nothing to worry about. Jamie put on his best placating voice. “I’ll do this and then get out of your hair, swear down.” In answer, Roy narrowed his eyes so Jamie dug for courage and held his hand out. “Now, gloves.”

Cursing while he did it, Roy crouched down and looked into the cupboard. Jamie froze and stared straight ahead, trying not to think about how Roy’s head was level with his hips. How had it never occurred to him to imagine Roy going down on him instead? His knees almost buckled at the thought of stubble scraping the inside of his thighs- Jesus, what would that feel like? Jamie shoved his lip between his teeth and bit down hard to drive the thought away.

“Here.” Roy dropped a pair of black rubber gloves into Jamie’s hand.

“Ugh, d’you own anything with colour?”

“No.”

“I’m Roy Kent,” Jamie growled in a bad South London accent while turning the water on and scrubbing a plate. “I have black fucking everything because it matches my black fucking soul.”

“I don’t fucking sound like that.” Roy took the sudsy plate from him and started rinsing it off. Jamie let him because he hated washing dishes alone.

“Fuck off,” Jamie parroted, glaring at Roy while scrubbing the next thing.

“Oh, fuck off.”

A giggle burst out from Jamie’s chest and he shed the fake accent and low voice, swaying to the side to bump Roy with his shoulder. He enjoyed the brief brush of body heat and flashed a grin when Roy didn’t bite his head clean off even though that wild look in his eyes was back. “You know you can wash cast iron with soap and water? Were like a holdover from ancient times when they were lying about soap or something saying you can’t.”

“You leave that for me, you’re not touching my cast iron.”

“Fine, fine, get me the pots then, Chef.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Jamie pretended like he didn’t hear him. The time flew by and soon Roy’s kitchen was properly clean and there was no excuse for him to stay. He dried his hands slowly as a gloomy feeling lodged itself in his chest. Turning to Roy, Jamie put on his best attempt of a smile, his lips straining with the effort.

“Hey, thanks again, Roy. I owe you one, yeah?”

“You said it, not me.”

Jamie’s smile grew genuine as a laugh ghosted out of his nose but then he took a breath that came out as a sigh. All he had to do was get out his phone and get an uber. “What are you gonna do the rest of the night?” He asked instead.

Roy looked down at him and grunted. “Did you say Transformers was on Netflix?”

“You still haven’t watched it?” Jamie cried. “Roy!”

“Come on,” Roy demanded. He led the way out of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room where he blinked at the blanket Jamie had folded and placed on the back of the couch. “Let’s watch it. Sit down, what are you fucking waiting for?”

Jamie hesitated. He knew what he wanted to do but he also didn’t want to overstay his welcome. It didn’t seem like Roy minded. He as good as said he liked Jamie’s company, of course he did, but Jamie knew he could be a bit much. If he was less selfish he would go home and relieve Roy the burden of his company since the man had done more than enough for him tonight. But looking into Roy's eyes, Jamie felt his will crumble, imagining they looked expectant.

“Alright, Grandad,” Jamie said. He plopped himself onto the spot on the sofa where he had napped, smiling at Roy at the other end. That cold feeling that had infected his chest earlier disappeared into thin air. The gap of the middle cushion loomed large between them and Jamie reached around the arm on his side to lift up the leg rest to stop himself from doing something stupid like sliding over. As he was sprawling out, Roy turned on the TV and dimmed the overhead lights, so they were in near darkness.

“This is fucking aces.” Jamie wiggled himself so he was slouched down in the seat, sticking his arms up through the bottom of his hoodie and bunching up the hem. He turned his head at movement from the corner of his eye and got a face full of whooshing fabric. “Oh, fuck yeah,” Jamie said and wrapped himself up in the pink blanket Roy threw at him.

“Let me guess, this belongs to your niece.”

“Aren’t you a smart boy,” Roy said to the television and pressed play.

Jamie felt his eyes widen as his blood rushed south and he lost the battle of keeping his gaze straight in front him. Lit by the shifting glow of the television, Jamie’s eyes stole a glance at the length of Roy's profile. From his dark hair, down his severe brow and long delicate nose, pausing on his lips before sweeping down the line of his neck and swell of his arms. Jamie badly wanted to slot himself against him.

Suddenly very glad of the dark hiding what he was sure was a beet red face, Jamie forced out a scoff he hoped sounded amused. “Well, it’s dead nice.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Oh, tell her I like her drawings too. It’s right hard to draw cats.”

“How do you know I didn’t draw those?”

Jamie let a laugh ring out. “Funny and you can cook? Tryin’ to make me look bad or what?”

“Just watch the film.”

Jamie angled himself so he could volley his gaze between the screen and Roy, settling into the couch. He was warm and comfortable and with Roy Kent sitting an arm’s length away, Jamie felt happy, not even thinking to stop himself from smiling.

“Guess who that is,” Jamie asked.

Roy leveled him with a glare. “Don’t fucking spoil it.”

“I’m not! Guess.”

“Fucking…Bumblebee.” Jamie pressed his lips together to contain a laugh. “What did I just fucking say?”

Jamie jumped at Roy’s shout and did his best innocent face. “I didn’t say nothin’! Maybe it’s not him at all. Go on and guess again.”

“You’re a shit fucking liar.”

“Am not.”

“Yeah, tell that to your fucking face.”

Jamie wagged his tongue out. “Oi, I know I have a nice face but watch the film, Chef.”

He was rewarded with an eye roll. “Shut the fuck up.”

And Jamie did for about three minutes. “Have you met him?”

“That guy?” Roy asked over the dialogue.

“Yeah, Shia LeBoeuf.”

“Nope. Stupid name”

“Ah, well he’s a dick.”

Roy looked over at him. “You’ve met him?”

“Nah. But you hear things, like.”

“What kind of things?”

Jamie swiveled his whole body and took a great breath in. He launched into an explanation and rumours, not even noticing that Roy paused the film. After Roy vowed that he would nut him on sight if they ever did meet, they resumed watching only to have to pause again when Roy’s phone rang. He could see from where he was sitting that it was a video call and a wild curiosity overtook him. Jamie clocked Roy’s glare and leaned the other way on the couch to stick himself as far as he could in the corner, hoping against hope that Roy wouldn’t get up to answer the call somewhere else.

“Not one word,” Roy warned and Jamie’s heart soared. He mimed zipping his lips and nodding, earning a growl for his cooperation.

“Oi,” Roy greeted, “what’s wrong?”

“I can’t just call to say hi?” A woman’s voice answered back and Jamie wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t his curiosity shriveling up and passing away.

“Ashley.”

“Okay, fu-fudge, you’re right. And you were right about bloody Paddington too. Phoebe had a nightmare and she needs to talk to you.”

“I fucking told you,” Roy snapped. Jamie blinked at the name Phoebe, and all of a sudden his curiosity surged back. It was Roy’s sister on the other side of the call, not some girlfriend Jamie didn’t know about.

“Uncle Roy!” A small voice wailed from a distance and melted Jamie’s heart. There was a shuffle on the other end and Phoebe’s high-pitched voice boomed in the living room. “Uncle Roy, y-you have to- have to lock your doors!”

“Oi,” Roy called, causing Jamie to stare at how gentle the word sounded coming out of his mouth. “They’re locked, don’t you worry. What’s this nightmare about then?”

“He trapped you in the museum and you couldn’t get away and he wanted to stuff you!”

“Who trapped me?” Roy asked in mock outrage, making Jamie smile.

“Paddington! He was so mean to you, Uncle Roy.”

“But Paddington is a nice bear,” Roy said, “he’d never do that, Phoe.”

Ashley’s voice joined in again. “See, I told you that too, didn’t I?”

“No!” Phoebe screeched. “You’re both not listening to me!”

Jamie jumped and his smile dropped as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Phoebe launched into an explanation and Jamie felt his palms start to sweat. “-And you couldn’t run away, Uncle Roy, ‘cause you’re old and your knee hurts all the time! You have to go get bear traps right now.”

Roy glanced at him with a smirk and Jamie knew he should react but he felt like he couldn’t move. Any second he was going to start yelling at the poor girl, Jamie knew it in his bones. He didn’t want to listen to this, he should have left the room.

“Phoebe,” Roy said playfully, already having turned back to the phone. “I promise you I’m safe, love.”

Jamie jolted like an electric shock ran through him. He couldn’t stop staring as Roy gently explained in detail what he’d do to poor Paddington if the bear came calling. Roy wasn’t angry with Phoebe at all. And he shouldn’t be because she was scared and people yelled when they were scared, and she was only a little kid. Jamie didn’t know why he was feeling unsettled but when the sound of Phoebe’s tearful giggling filled the air, his chest started to loosen. He glanced at Roy to measure the anger on his face but only found a soft smile where it should have been, and it felt like he could start breathing again.

“Roy,” Ashley groaned, “you’re going to give her more nightmares.”

“You know who you called.”

Roy said it with such gravitas that it made Jamie laugh and Roy threw a smirk his way.

“What do you keep smiling at, Uncle Roy?” Phoebe sniffled.

“Oh, Roy! Are you with someone right now? Why didn’t you say something, oh my God.”

“It’s fine, just a bloke from Richmond. We’re watching a film.”

Jamie grinned wide and waved from his side of the couch but Roy didn’t point the phone his way.

“Who is it?” Phoebe asked, baffled.

“None of your business,” Roy told her and Jamie snickered.

“Ain’t no way to talk to a lady,” Jamie said, figuring he was free to talk now.

Roy glared at him while Ashley’s voice muttered a little, oh my God, while Phoebe hummed.

“Why does he talk so funny, Uncle Roy?”

Roy grunted and pivoted to angle Jamie into the shot. Grinning wide, Jamie scooted closer and waved to the brown skinned woman with Roy’s eyebrows and a little blonde child he recognized from the photos. “Hiya, hello, how are ya? I’m Jamie.”

“Oh Jamie Tartt!” Phoebe said.

“That’s me. And you must be Phoebe?”

“Yes, Phoebe O’Sullivan. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mi—"

“-Is that my blanket? Uncle Roy, is that my blanket?”

Jamie smiled sheepishly and glanced at Roy’s sister before addressing Phoebe again but Roy beat him to it.

“It is your blanket, yeah, Phoe. The muppet was cold.”

“I can get another—” Jamie started to say but was interrupted by Phoebe again.

“-Isn’t it the best blanket in the whole world? Do you like it, Jamie? Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I fu- f- for real like it. It’s well nice.”

Phoebe beamed.

“Hey, Roy,” Ashley said, “why don’t you get a fire going? Jamie, he keeps his place freezing, don’t be afraid to tell him off for it.”

“No, no, I’m good, really,” Jamie said as his face heated up.

Phoebe gasped loudly. “A fire’s a great idea, Mummy! Then Paddington will be too scared to embalm Uncle Roy.”

Jamie saw his own face twitch in shock on the screen.

“I’m scarier than any fire,” Roy said but was looking at Jamie in an assessing manner like he was ready to make a fire again because Jamie might be cold. He needed to divert this conversation, and he needed to do it now.

“Not necessary, Phoebe,” Jamie said with a wink. “Cause between you and me, Paddington is a bit of a knob. But if he tries to get to your Uncle Roy, he’ll have to go through me first, yeah?”

“Even though Uncle Roy called you an arrogant shit fucker?”

“Phoebe,” Ashley warned while Roy smirked proudly.

“He talks about me?” Jamie beamed at Roy and laughed at the speed the smirk fell off of his face.

“Incessantly,” Ashley said.

“Yeah, cause you’re a prick who was put here to make my life a fucking misery,” Roy growled.

“Think you don’t really mean that,” Jamie said then looked at Ashley. “Has he always been like this? Saying mean things but being dead nice anyway?”

“Not usually,” Ashley said and smirked like Roy just did when he was making fun of Jamie.

“Fuck off, I’m not nice.”

Jamie’s stomach did a somersault. Roy didn’t correct his sister and say he didn’t like him.

Phoebe leaned forward and took in a giant breath. “Uncle Roy, you have to promise not to be nice to Paddington. It’s important.”

“I promise, Phoebe.”

Phoebe narrowed her eyes and Jamie had to stifle a laugh because she looked as cute as a button.

“Alright,” Ashley said to Phoebe, “think you want to try and sleep now, love?”

Phoebe looked worried and bit her lip.

“Hey,” Jamie said loudly, “what do you call a bear that tries to pick a fight with two footballers?”

“…What?”

He flicked his eyes at Phoebe, Ashley, and Roy on the screen. “A dead bear.”

Phoebe’s laughter filled the living room and Roy rolled his eyes while Ashley grinned at her daughter.

“Hear that, Phoe?” She asked. “I think Uncle Roy is going to be just fine. Now, say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Uncle Roy!” Phoebe said and waved. “Goodnight, Jamie Tartt!”

“Thanks for letting us crash your movie night, Roy,” Ashley sang, “‘night, boys. Nice meeting you, Jamie.”

“Nice meeting you!” Jamie called.

Roy was gruff as ever as he said, “Bye. Love you.”

“Love you too!” Phoebe yelled.

The silence when Ashley ended the call was heavy. “Alright, let’s have it,” Roy sighed.

“They’re both way cooler than you,” Jamie grinned.

“Cheers.”

“And your sister is fit.”

“I will cut your eyes out.”

Jamie laughed and slouched back to his side of the couch. Roy was all talk. Could spin all kinds of violent tales but Jamie knew that Roy’s niece was going to go back to sleep and forget about her nightmare. The thought made his gut twist even as a warm feeling spread inside his chest.

“You’re a better uncle than you are a footballer,” Jamie said.

Roy was looking at him that angry way of his again, but it only made Jamie smile. “Thanks,” Roy rumbled and Jamie’s smile turned into a grin. As he was trying to come up with something clever to say, Roy stabbed the remote at the telly. The light shifted and the audio boomed from the surround sound system as the film started playing again. Jamie, now far too comfortable in his pretzel shape to move, had to turn his neck to view the screen. He picked up a stream of commentary for a good half hour until he started having trouble thinking of things to say. Then when the length of his blinks grew so that every time his lashes made their descent and remained stuck for longer, he stopped talking altogether. Before he knew it, soon all he could see was the backs of his eyelids.

“Jamie, what the fuck is this?”

“Hmm?” He hadn’t quite heard Roy’s question as his eyes fluttered open.

“…Nothing, keep watching.”

“‘M watching,” Jamie countered. He should have straightened out of his comfortable slouch. He didn’t notice when Roy turned down the volume or when he paused the film. His head dipped and when he wrestled his eyes open again, he was standing in an empty pub. The smell of stale beer was heavy in the air, pressing in on Jamie from all sides making it hard for him to move.

He needed to move.

Jamie looked around for anything he could grab to help himself. All the tables and stools were far away, the bar even farther. Dull thuds sounded from outside, growing louder into heavy footsteps charging closer. Jamie tried to move but the air was squeezing him tighter now. He couldn’t even turn his neck. The footsteps thundered closer dragging a whine from his throat but then they stopped and quiet descended over the pub. Jamie’s breaths started to come in little serrated pants as the pressure encasing him snapped and his feet were flying before he even made the decision to run. The sound of the front door slamming open splintered the silence and the heavy footsteps returned even louder. Jamie ran. He wheeled around the kitchen table but rounded the corner too fast and crashed into the counter hard. He could feel the fingers reaching for the back of his neck. He dropped to the floor, scrambling under the table and sprinting for the door. His foot snagged on an old pizza box and then he was falling. Jamie gasped, his body jolting bracing for impact that didn’t come. His heart hammered inside his chest as he opened his eyes, the nightmare falling away to be replaced by an immense, mounted television in front of him. His shaky exhale was loud in the room and not quite enough to dispel the lingering feeling of being caught in a trap.

“Hey, you’re alright. Just a dream,” Roy’s voice rumbled from beside him.

His hand was on Jamie’s bad shoulder warm and steadying, anchoring Jamie where he was. His limbs completely locked up, not knowing what to do upon waking next to a man and not being attacked physically or verbally. But as Jamie’s eyes flicked around in front of him his body slowly sagged, Roy’s presence leeching the panic from his veins. A burst of familiarity came over him, like this had happened before but the fog of exhaustion clouding his head prevented the thought from finding purchase. Roy had crossed the gap of the middle cushion and was sitting next to him now. The warmth from his thigh and the soft wool blanket that had fallen to Jamie’s lap when he sat up pulled him the rest of the way awake and sparked a flood of embarrassment that had Jamie leaning out of Roy’s touch.

“Sorry,” he croaked, “didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s fine. Would have let you sleep but looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Fuck.” Jamie vaulted to his feet wishing he could just disappear through the floor. “Fuck, sorry—”

“Oi, it’s fine,” Roy said, following him up.

Shaking his head, Jamie glanced between the doorway to the hall and the dark TV. There was a lamp on the side table at the other end of the couch and an open book face down on the surface. Jamie put together the pieces of what he was seeing and could have cried he was so mortified. Roy Kent turned off the film they had been watching because Jamie fell asleep and instead of kicking him out, chose to read a book while he probably snored and then had a nightmare like a fucking child.

“Uh, how long was I out?” Jamie ground out while reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Not long, forty minutes maybe.”

“Fuck me,” Jamie groaned. Forty minutes. And it had the opposite effect that naps should have because he felt awful. Fatigue made his limbs feel heavy and his stomach churn while his eyes burned with the need to close them.

“Jamie,” Roy said and stepped forward. It looked like he moved his arms as if he wanted to reach for him and Jamie was torn between wanting him to and shying away. He studiously kept his eyes on his phone, looking for the Uber icon.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I’m going. Oh thanks.” Jamie forced himself to look at Roy then. “For letting me stay and for dinner. Was really nice of ya. And uh, it’s late—”

“Come on,” Roy grunted. He shifted and raised his arm slowly and Jamie wondered what he was doing until Roy placed a hand at the center of his back and pushed, directing them toward the front of the house.

“Oh,” Jamie said as they passed through the threshold into the entry way. “I’ll just call…” he slowed to try and find his Uber app but Roy propelled him forward. His stomach lodged itself in his throat as they walked down the hall, realizing that he had angered the man. “Oh okay, yeah, I’ll call it outside. Get- get out of your hair.” His eyes found where his shoes waited. Bright red pumas next to Roy’s black boots. Jamie aimed himself toward them but Roy’s arm at his back steered him left to the stairs.

“Up,” Roy ordered, “go.”

“Huh?” Jamie could feel his whole face scrunch up in confusion.

“Guest room upstairs. Go.” Roy pressed on his back and urged him up a couple steps.

“What?” Jamie asked, planting his feet on the steps and looking back. “No I…”

“It’s too late to get an uber.”

Jamie blinked. He forgot what time his phone said it was when he had been looking at it just now but he was certain that wasn’t the case. “No, it’s not.”

“You’re staying in the guest room and you’re going to get a goodnight’s sleep, is that clear?” Roy said in the same tone he used to bark orders on the pitch.

“No, no I can’t,” Jamie insisted.

Roy kept his hand on Jamie’s back, standing on the step below like he had no intention of moving. “I don’t give a fucking shit. Now—" Jamie had to move his feet if he wasn’t going to fall and Roy used the momentum to keep pushing him forward. If he wasn’t so tired he would have put up more of a fight but it was all he could do to keep his balance.

“Wait, Roy, I—”

“-Up.”

“Well, I don’t understand?” Jamie said as he climbed the winding staircase. In the empty space of the stairwell, the chandelier shone with golden light. Jamie’s eyes were drawn up to the shimmering crystals but it was too bright to stare at for long. “We have a match tomorrow, I’ve got to go home.”

Roy answered with a grunt, just kept guiding him up the stairs until they reached a landing. Jamie didn’t have long to wonder if he should keep going up the stairs or break off to the second floor before Roy steered him away from the dark wood steps into the wide hall. Shadows cast by the chandelier painted sharp, oblong shapes into the cream walls. Roy led him a short way down, past an open door of a room painted with cheerful stripes that Jamie craned his neck to try and see but was pushed forward until the pressure on his back fell away.

“Wait here,” Roy said. His eyes bored into Jamies, dark and flinty.  “Do not make me chase you down.”

He was confused and a little devastated. Jamie opened his mouth but he couldn’t decide between apologizing and asking what was going on so he shut his mouth with a snap and nodded at the floor. Roy went into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Jamie to sort through his thoughts. He had said Jamie would sleep in the guest room but why would he offer that if he was angry with him? Maybe Roy was only doing this because he wanted Jamie to score goals tomorrow and didn’t actually want to be friends with him at all. Had this all been an act that Jamie dove falling for?

The click of the door opening startled him as Roy stepped out, a small bundle of folded clothes in his hands he passed to Jamie who took it mechanically and stared. “You’re wider in the shoulders than I am so I grabbed some different things. Something should fit you anyway.” Jamie didn’t react to Roy’s voice. He couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the faded Chelsea shirt on top.

Roy cleared his throat. “I remember you saying you sleep bottoms off. Well, you’re not fucking doing that here. There’s shorts if you don’t want the trousers. Dunno why you do that anyway, like Winnie the fucking Poo.”

“I get cold upstairs and hot downstairs,” Jamie mumbled to his feet.

“Oi, what’s going on in that little brain of yours?”

The direct question got his attention and he turned his confused look from the shirt up to Roy. “Are you cross with me?”

Roy’s eyes widened in way that would have made him laugh if he didn’t feel like crying.

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“I fell asleep-I- the film—"

“No! The fuck? No.” Roy let out a loud sigh. “I’m not good at this shit, alright?” He said it like that would give Jamie any clarity whatsoever. “You can sleep here tonight. You’re dead on your feet, I’d just feel better if you stayed here.”

That didn’t make sense at all. “Sorry, Roy, fuck, I should have left earlier—"

“Stop that. I want you here—" he cut himself off and gritted his teeth before inhaling deeply through his nose while Jamie waited stunned.

That was the second time tonight that Roy said he wanted Jamie to stay. And Roy, he always said what he meant. He never wasted time hiding what he thought about people and Jamie knew that. Jamie knew he knew that. Doubt started to creep in and chip at the ice in Jamie’s chest and Roy’s voice helped thaw the rest.

“Look. Last night when we spoke. You sounded, fucking like… I dunno, fucking scary. And then you didn’t fucking respond and I was thinking a million different fucking things. Just, I’d feel better if you’re where I can see you. At least until you’re alright. And don’t tell me you are cause you’re fucking not.”

Jamie swallowed, remembering that Roy had basically admitted this morning to being worried about him. “It weren’t that bad,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Uh nothing, I’m so—”

“-If you say you’re sorry one more time I’m going to fucking punch you in the throat.”

He didn’t mean it. Jamie could tell right away that he didn’t mean it. Roy’s dark eyes were intense below the chevron hood of his brow, glittering with something that Jamie knew now wasn’t a threat. It tugged at the last fingers of dread rooted inside Jamie’s sternum.

“So, this really were a kidnapping?” Jamie teased with a soft smile.

The corners of Roy’s lips dipped down and he nodded once. He was completely earnest, and it made Jamie’s heart skip a beat.

“Five stars. Would recommend.”

The somber expression on Roy’s face broke with the relaxing of his brow and narrowing of his eyes. “You’re a muppet, you know that?”

“Is a muppet someone who’s perfect in every way? Then yeah.”

“Tell me you know what a muppet is.”

“Uh…”

“Jamie!”

“What?”

“The Muppets. Fucking Kermit. Miss Piggy. Gonzo?”

“Did you say Miss Piggy? That’s rude.”

Roy dragged a hand down his face and Jamie watched the back of his hairy knuckles. “I can’t believe this.”

A slow smile grew on Jamie’s lips into a crooked grin as he looked up through his lashes at Roy who blinked twice and squinted at him.

“Ohhh, you’re having me on,” he accused and Jamie snorted.

“‘Course I know who the Muppets are. I’m not illiterate, you know.”

“You cheeky bastard.”

Jamie bobbed in an imitation of a curtsy and then his eyes lit up at catching the look on Roy’s face. His dark eyes were crinkled and lips lifted with the tiniest but unmistakable smile. That feeling. Like he scored a goal or wound up an opposing player to foul him. He just made Roy smile off the fucking pitch. Jamie lived for it. Standing in the man’s house, outside his bedroom door and seeing him smile at him, Jamie knew he’d remember this moment forever. A fluttering ball of something warm nestled itself in his chest and threatened to bloom outwards the longer Roy looked at him with those brown eyes of his and Jamie knew he couldn’t let it. He pried his gaze down to the wood floor as his smile turned shy. He’d always have this anyway and it was more than he deserved.

“Alright, well bathroom is there,” Roy said brusquely, pointing down the hall and to the door on the left. “There are spare toothbrushes under the sink and towels if you want to shower. And you’ll be in that room there.”

Jamie followed Roy’s index finger around the bend of the stairwell and felt a stirring of sadness in his gut. “What’s upstairs?”

“None of your fucking business.”

A wan smile flashed over Jamie’s lips as he looked back at Roy. His feet didn’t want to budge.

“You need anything else?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Right, turn off the light by the stairs. See you in the morning.”

Roy turned on his heel and left Jamie alone in the hallway before he even registered the clack of the bedroom door closing. He stood there bewildered for a moment, wondering over the sudden change in behaviour. But that was Roy, he could be an odd dog sometimes. Jamie smiled to himself at the thought and found his way to the bathroom.

Flicking on the light, Jamie winced. The white wall lamp was overly bright, stabbing at Jamie’s already burning eyes. Like the entry hall the walls in here were half paneled except the wood here was an eggshell white and the drywall painted black. Jamie focused on the dark colour to soothe his eyes and placed the pile of clothes Roy gave him on the black marble counter. He had to hand it to the man, he knew what he liked and stuck with it. He smiled at the hair tie holder next to the porcelain sink, it had different patterned scrunchies and thin bands of all different colours but mostly pink. A pink toothbrush sat in its holder on the other side and a sharp pang of sorrow ran through him. Because Keeley had a similar one at his place once and maybe because Roy had been with him all day and now not having the man around was lonely.

Jamie picked up the clothes one by one, immediately bypassing the plain black tee and going for the Chelsey shirt. It was soft, years old and faded. He held up the navy material, eyes stuck on the white lettering. KENT 06. It smelled like Roy. A hint of his black currant, fig, and tobacco cologne, his laundry soap, and something deeper. He wanted to put it on and not just because he was craving sleep and wouldn’t be able to do so in what he was wearing now. Taking a couple deep breaths Jamie braced himself and extricated himself from his hoodie, biting back groans of pain at moving his shoulder.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed. Removing his T-shirt was easier and it felt nice to get out of it. Before he put on the fresh Chelsey shirt, Jamie turned his back and craned his neck to view his shoulder blade in the mirror. The bruise stood out like a brand. The colour had grown worse, ripening from a warm violet into a splotchy deep purple, vivid on his skin. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm, rotating it in a circle and finding that while he had full range of motion he couldn’t do it without wincing. He sighed in relief. It hurt but he played matches with much worse than a bruised shoulder before. He’d be fine.

A little put out he didn’t have his skincare for the second night in a row, Jamie sucked it up and found a spare toothbrush under the sink. He chose purple and placed it next to Phoebe’s pink one in the holder. After that he eased on Roy’s shirt to find it fit perfectly. The same couldn’t be said of the gym shorts that fit a little too snugly around his thighs but they were his best option. The pajama trousers Roy had offered would be much too warm.

He breathed in as he looked in the mirror, the scent of Roy’s shirt stronger now that it was right under his nose. Jamie had worn a Kent shirt before when he was a lad but this one he had on was Roy’s. He turned to view his back in the mirror again and his ears burned and he smiled inhibited, undeniably pleased at seeing Roy’s name across the blue. What a night. Jamie left the bathroom behind and stepped into the empty hall. It was quiet on the short walk down the hallway and around the stairwell although the light was on under Roy’s door, shining like a beacon when Jamie flipped the light switch off for the chandelier. He stopped as he got to the guest room, hand stuck on the brass handle and looking through the dark to the closed door of Roy’s bedroom. As if loneliness wasn’t enough, guilt pushed its way in. He really was awful. He couldn’t be content with what he was given, he always wanted more. But Jamie really hated being alone. The only thing that separated him from Roy was a thin piece of wood. He wondered if he walked over there, knocked on the door if Roy would let him in. He wouldn’t. But if he did, Jamie wondered if he’d hold him if asked. If Roy would hug him and wrap his arms around him. He wondered if Roy wanted to be held by Jamie too. Jamie would offer Roy his warmth in a heartbeat if he could. Jamie wondered if he was supposed to feel that way for someone he just thought was insanely fit and a little voice in his head whispered that the only person he had felt like this for was Keeley. 

Jamie squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, opening the guest room door and then closing it behind him. Inside, the paneled walls were painted a dusty cerulean like the slanted ceiling and inside of the door. Across from him a grey armchair was stationed between the windows that were bordered by sheer blue curtains that hung from the ceiling down to the dark hardwood floor. It was elegant and plain with was nothing overly personal about it like graffiti or leopard print but Jamie found himself falling in love with it anyway. He placed his clothes on the cherry wood dresser, turned off the light, and went to sit on the bed. He sunk onto the deep navy-blue comforter, brushing his fingers over the embroidered florals of gold and brown. A whooshing sound came from the fireplace a few feet from the foot of the bed and Jamie jumped. Just a breeze. He swallowed and blinked at the darkness, idly hoping he was tired enough to sleep through strange noises in a strange place. Usually it would be a problem but Jamie was exhausted.

He lowered himself so he was lying down, placing his phone next to him on the spot another person’s chest would be and sighed as his head sunk into the pillow. The silk was soft and the mattress like a cloud. He could smell Roy’s Chelsea shirt as he burrowed himself under the blankets and sighed softly. Maybe he was sleeping alone but sleeping in Roy Kent’s house in his posh guest room in silk sheets? That was the next best thing to Jamie. And here, he didn’t have to worry about anyone getting to him.

He just hoped he slept soundly and didn’t wake Roy up with any nightmares like a twat. He needn’t have worried though because it was the best sleep he had in a while. Since the away game in Wolverhampton, really. He did have a nightmare in the middle of the night, but the faint smell of black currant, fig, and tobacco reminded his foggy brain where he was. In that half asleep place before sleep pulled him under again, Jamie could admit to himself that he maybe, possibly, was in love with Roy Kent and this time the thought made him smile as he drifted back off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Roy barely heard the slam of the door behind him over his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He leaned back against the wood, feeling blindsided while listening for Jamie’s soft footsteps to retreat. Just now, he’d had the strangest urge to reach for the lad and hug him. It was embarrassing. Roy was a tactile guy and knew he craved physical affection more than a man should. He felt his face heat up at remembering how good it felt to just accept the casual affection from Jamie tonight, every time the younger man leaned into his space and touched him like he wasn’t even thinking about it, clapping him on the back or slapping his shoulder. Acting like no one ever did around Roy. And it wasn’t like Jamie was particularly affectionate either. He was normally distant with the lads at Richmond, always swerving out of the way when someone came at him with a high five or some other nonsense. He barely even put his hand in for team huddles. But tonight he had been nothing like that at all and if that hadn’t been enough of a surprise, the Mancunian had started washing dishes of his own volition of all things. And the way he made fun of Roy, bumping their shoulders together and chatting away. Before Roy could fixate on how disgustingly pleasant washing up with Jamie had been he was startled by the bathroom door outside squealing shut. Jamie had light feet off the pitch as well it seemed, Roy noted. Now assured of some space between them he let out a breath.

He supposed he hadn’t realized how quiet his house could be. When he brought Jamie home, he had honestly been expecting more of a struggle. But the naked gratitude in his eyes after he adjusted to being in Roy’s house- the trust, it did something to him. And the lad had kept looking at him like that all night, smiling and laughing and filling the silence with conversation that hadn’t lulled once. Even over the disgrace of a film they started to watch. And he had been surprisingly helpful talking to Phoebe. Recalling the moment Jamie greeted them in a shy voice Roy had never heard from him before made Roy’s stomach squirm. He had been sweet of all things, something he’d never conflate with Jamie Tartt before tonight. It had really been at odds with all the shit Roy talked about him with Ashley and Phoebe and he knew his sister would have something to say about it. The glint that had entered her eyes the moment she heard that Mancunian accent didn’t bode well for his peace of mind. But Roy strangely didn’t regret answering the call with Jamie there even though he knew he should have. It had been one of the best nights he’d had in a while if he was being honest with himself. Right until Jamie had another nightmare.

Roy had caught on to it quickly. After he had paused the film, Jamie had looked so peaceful and tired that Roy hadn’t wanted to wake him, so he grabbed a book. Reading in the quiet presence of someone was better than doing it alone even though he kept getting distracted and losing his place. Jamie would snore or fidget in his sleep and steal away Roy’s focus. So, he had been looking at his face when it shifted from tranquil to troubled and Roy didn’t waste any time sliding into the space between them. Back when they had roomed together at Wolverhampton Roy hadn’t wanted to wake Jamie for fear of them both being embarrassed but this time the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Jamie likely would have appreciated some consideration based on his reaction but Roy found he didn’t care, too rattled at seeing the haunted look in his eyes once again.

Roy couldn’t let him go after that, not that he had been intending to in the first place. It was just because he liked taking care of people, always had. His little hind brain got to do that tonight and some wires must have gotten crossed because every time Jamie got close to him, Roy wanted to keep him there. It didn’t feel like enough that he got to keep him warm with a blanket and fire, that he got to cook for him, that he got to hear the sounds Jamie made when eating the food Roy made. Those moans. He hadn’t been responsible for sound like that from a man’s lips in years. That’s the only reason why his wires got crossed. It has been too long since he’d been with anyone let alone a man and then in comes Jamie Tartt sounding like a porn star enjoying the food Roy cooked. He was only fucking human. And it was objective fact that Jamie was handsome. Didn’t mean Roy wanted him specifically. Just that he was a lonely, miserable, old bastard that liked having his ego stoked.

Even if Roy marched over to GAY right now and picked someone up, twenty-three would be too young for him. And he’d go for a bloke more his type, besides. Blonde, even though a brunette with blue eyes and creamy skin would really do it for him right now, and athletic- fuck. Someone like Jamie, not Jamie himself obviously. He was a pervert to even think it. Jamie wasn’t even into men anyway. And even if he was, Roy would never take advantage of him like that. Because if Roy took anything from today it was the fact that whatever Jamie was dealing with was dangerous to him. The thought cooled him off at once.

He had enough life experience on the younger man to know how quickly things could take a dark spin if you didn’t have anyone looking out for you. And it didn’t seem like Jamie did. Not once had he seen any family come to a match. No friends from Manchester that he spoke of. Mostly he just hung around the lads from Richmond and Roy wasn’t sure of he’d call them friends per say. Better than Roy who really only hung out with his Yoga group twice a week. It looked like Jamie needed a friend so that was a problem solved in his book. Sorted. He could be the friend that Jamie Tartt needed. He felt that simmering feeling under his skin rail against the idea, a remnant of his past dislike of the prick, no doubt. But he was Roy Kent so he smothered the feeling.

Outside his door he heard the flight risk leave the bathroom and Roy listened hard for the creak of the stairs but ended up breathing a sigh of relief when the door to the guest room clicked shut. It was a signal that Roy could relax but as he climbed into bed and let the silk blanket settle on him, all he felt was the emptiness of his bedroom. The cavernous space between the walls seemed hollow and urged him to curl tighter under the covers. He wasn’t alone. Jamie was just in the other room and he was fine. Roy wouldn’t be getting any late night texts that scared him. Because in the darkness of his room Roy could admit he had been scared. As much as he didn’t want to be, he was. Perhaps he could press Jamie tomorrow about his odd behaviour but unhappily dismissed the thought. Jamie had one foot out the door all night and Roy couldn’t risk overstepping just yet. He wondered what could be wrong. All of Roy’s theories swirled around in his head until his biggest theory latched on again and made him frown. It had to be an ex. That seemed more likely than Jamie being involved with drugs or a bad crowd. He was famous and more accessible than he should be, a crazy stalker ex would have no trouble tracking him down. Especially if she already had his number and was able to contact him. If that were the case, then Roy could see why Jamie hadn’t said anything. He was particular about his brand and being harassed by an ex-girlfriend didn’t fit.

It would explain the flinching, wouldn’t it. And how weird Jamie was about his phone calls too. Roy wondered if the panic attack today was a sign that something had changed and his brow drew together in the dark. He drifted off with the feeling he had forgotten something.

-

The smell of sizzling ham woke him from a heavy sleep and Roy lay there blinking for a moment trying to recall the last time that happened. He couldn’t remember exactly just that it was years ago. Sunlight slanted in from the sides of the window through the cracks in the heavy curtain, lighting up the dark room just enough that Roy could see. Jamie was still here then. The smile that started to form at the realization took him by surprise so much that he scowled in confusion.

Every morning without fail the pain in his knee would be the first thing he was aware of. Should have figured that Jamie Tartt would mess up his routine from the bloody jump. Roy didn’t know why he was angry about that but he was and then his stomach growled which pissed him off even more. Right now, Jamie was puttering around in his kitchen, in Roy’s space. Seeing Roy’s things. Like Phoebe’s drawings on the fridge, or the notepad with the start of Roy’s grocery list in his messy scrawl beside the fruit bowl that had three pears and two dragon fruits in it. Roy got out of bed with an unwelcome fluttering in his stomach and went to the loo. Now Jamie Tartt would see the dragon fruit in the bowl and see that Roy added mangosteen to his shopping list and sleuth out that Roy loved a rotation of tropical fruit he never knew existed until he helped Phoebe with her school project last month. Splashing cold water on his face reminded him that he was Roy Kent and he didn’t give a flying fuck if Jamie knew that about him because he could just break his perfect nose with his forehead or something. Roy wondered if he slept well and then told himself he didn’t care because he, Roy had slept well, and it was only for his peace of mind that he had Jamie stay over anyway. He nodded at his own thought process and left his room, walking down the stairs knowing he wore a murderous expression.

Roy padded into the kitchen but stopped in his tracks inside the threshold. Leaning against the exposed brick wall, Jamie had his phone out taking selfies looking like the prince prick of all pricks Roy was used to seeing. He had his tongue out, angling his head different ways and looking like a knob, too absorbed in himself to notice Roy who leaned his weight on his good leg and tilted his head like he was viewing an exhibit. It looked like Jamie had slept and even made use of the shower. His hair was wet, dark from the water and swept back from his face with a few wayward strands defying gravity. There was a hint stubble around his mouth and along his jaw that Roy wasn’t used to seeing on him and against his will, he remembered just how good-looking Jamie was. With his bright eyes and sharp jawline, and square chin, he looked out of place in the pedestrian light of Roy’s kitchen like he should be on a TV screen instead. He looked handsome.

And he was wearing Roy’s kit.

The royal blue brought out the warmth of his complexion as soft sunshine flowed in through the kitchen windows, carving a bright ray across the brick wall and Jamie’s right side. His skin was near golden in the light, even his thighs where the shorts Roy had provided didn’t seem up to the task. The material strained across the muscle, framing his crotch in a sharp V between them, leaving little to the imagination. Jamie really had every reason to be snapping pictures of himself.

“Slept well then?” Roy growled with a dry mouth.

The face Jamie was making at his camera turned into an impish grin with not a hint of surprise. He knew Roy had been watching him. “Best sleep I’ve had all week, mate. Where’d you get that mattress?”

“Marbella. Yeah. Good. You look like a prick by the way.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie chirped, tilting his head up and brushing a strand of hair into his eyes. “I look mad fit.”

Roy grunted and went to the stove, intending on surveying the damage. “You better not post any of those. You can wear your own fucking kit for that.” On the countertop were two plates covered with foil. The stove top was clear and a stainless steel plan lay drying on the dish rack.

“Nah, this is just for me. Is this my colour or what?”

Roy found himself stuck to the spot, imagining Jamie looking at pictures of himself in Roy’s Kit. Fucking fan boy.

“Not really,” Roy said, “washes you out.”

Jamie shook his head and looked at Roy like he pitied him, eyes scraping down to his bare feet to top of his bedraggled hair. “Poor lad. Is your vision going in your old age?” He lowered his phone and did a full turn. Roy had peeked at Jamie’s bare arse in the dressing room but it was different seeing it filling out Roy’s black shorts with Roy’s name above spread across Jamie’s wide shoulders. KENT 06 right there on his back.

He looked away. Peeled back the foil on the nearest plate to see slices of oven roasted ham crisped around the edges. He opened his mouth to comment but his brain had other ideas.

“Surprised you even went for my kit. Man City boy like you.”

“Ha, you kidding? You’re a fucking legend, ‘course I chose your kit.” Roy’s ego liked that quite a lot and he nodded his head until Jamie nattered on. “Even though you’re old now. Hey, can you take a pic of me bum? Can’t get a good angle.”

Instead of doing something stupid like taking the phone, Roy grunted and changed the subject. “Didn’t need to do all this,” he said.

Jamie skipped over and did a one-armed shrug. “It’s no fancy Mitchell in meal or nothing but Jamie Tartt can make a fried egg, I can tell you that much.”

“Hm, I’ll be the judge of that. You want coffee?” He found his French press in the cupboard beside the sink. Outside the window beside it, the morning was a powder blue.

“Ah, that’s where you keep it. Yes, yes please, skipper.”

Jamie fell quiet a moment as Roy readied the coffee and he tried to be annoyed about having the striker’s eyes on him but grudgingly admitted to himself that it was nice waking up to someone in the house.

“Yeah I just, uh…”

Roy glanced to the side to see Jamie scratching the back of his head. “Just wanted to thank you, like. I mean you’ve been so cool to me when I ain’t deserve it. And I know a shitty breakfast won’t make up for it or…what?”

Roy set the french press aside and pushed the plunger down before aiming both feet at Jamie and staring him down.

“Uh I can replace the eggs if you were saving ‘em for—”

“-You’ve already thanked me so you can cut it out. Didn’t do anything a fucking fr- er- teammate or something wouldn’t fucking do, now did I?”

Jamie pursed his lips. Then he flapped his hand around Roy’s kitchen. “You did though. No one’s ever done anything like that for me. It just like moves me, you know?”

That was an admission. Roy tried to ignore the soft spot making his insides feel like goo.

“And I don’t want you acting like it’s no big deal. Cause it is. To me, like. I… know I can be a dick, yeah, and I don’t always act like I give a shit. But I do. I really appreciate ya.”

“Hm,” Roy grunted and turned back to the French press in an effort to quell the violent urge to hug the younger man. “Well. Yeah, thanks. Coffee.”

“Sorry, forgot how you old folk are allergic to feelings.” Jamie’s soft laughter poured into the sunlight spilling in from the windows. And Roy really had dropped the ball on letting that soft spot go because Jamie’s cheeky tone only made him want to hug Jamie harder. Squeeze him tight against his chest and bite him. Bite him?

“You’re allergic to fucking feelings,” Roy spat. He busied himself with pouring coffee into two mugs, black ceramic for himself and a navy blue one for Jamie. He took a breath before speaking to the space on the counter between the mugs where the wood grain started to converge. “Just. As long as you know you don’t owe me shit. I wanted to help, so I did. Because something is going on, yeah?”

He placed the steaming mug on the counter beside Jamie and watched as he hid his eyes from Roy by looking down. Then he shrugged one shoulder again. A quick jerky movement that made him duck his head further.

Roy’s lips thinned as he pressed them together and he nodded. “You don’t have to talk about it—”

“-There ain’t nothing to talk about.”

“But if you’re in any kind of danger th—"

“-Ain’t no fucking danger, Jesus. I’ll never leave you on read again, happy? Fuckin’ overreac—"

“-If there is... you can count on me. Alright? Now, these eggs aren’t going to judge them-fucking-selves.”

A smile crept over Jamie’s lips before he turned his head back to face Roy. “Alright then, Grandad. Let’s eat.”

They took their same seats at the island as last night and Jamie revealed what was under the foil covered plates with a showman’s flair. Two small mountains of fried eggs and sliced ham, that actually looked decent. The ham wasn’t anything extraordinary but the eggs actually looked good. Jamie looked so hopeful that it caused a such a surge of that alarming simmering feeling that Roy couldn’t fend off. He elbowed Jamie in the side so he wouldn’t reach an arm across his shoulders in a side hug and ignored the way it earned a huff of laughter from the lad. Roy was silent as he served Jamie and then himself and then frowned, glaring at Jamie.

“Alright, how’d you get the crispy fucking edges?”

Jamie beamed, white teeth flashing in a grin. “Good, yeah?”

“They’re eggs,” Roy growled, “hard to mess up.”

“Well can you get perfect edges and soft center? Hm? There’s a technique.”

“Hm.”

Jamie leaned forward. “I’ll tell you if you want?”

“Eat first. But yeah, go on.”

Jamie promptly ate two slices of ham and a whole fried egg in a single bite and started chattering. He glazed over his supposed technique in favour of whining about the impossibility of flipping omelets, to a restaurant in France that Jamie loved, to did Roy know that Richard grew up on a goat farm?

“What the fuck?” Roy said around a mouthful of eggs.

“Yeah, mate. Showed me pictures and everything.” Jamie took a sip of coffee and spluttered with a look of deep disgust on his face. “You got sugar or milk?”

Roy froze. He’d forgotten to ask. “Not during the season I fucking don’t.”

Jamie looked at his coffee and sighed through his nose before taking another sip. Roy rolled his eyes as Jamie did a full body shudder. He supposed that he could offer but the pout on Jamie’s lips was a little too amusing. It was quiet for a few seconds, with the sounds of clinking cutlery and chewing but it didn’t last long.

“But like you had an ice cream wrapper in your car. That’s milk and sugar, Roy. Oh my god, do you drink your tea black too?”

Roy kept his silence but Jamie was unbothered. He took another few grimacing sips of coffee that amused Roy and carried on into a tangent about the history of fucking tea like he had a textbook in his head that flowed into a scathing commentary of Twinings that had more to do with the Queen drinking it apparently, than the brand itself, followed by a frankly brutal assessment of the royal family that had Roy almost spitting out his coffee which only made Jamie pick up steam.

“It’s not actually funny though, yeah?” He was talking a mile a minute, food cooling below him as he brought his coffee mug up to his already curling lips. “I’m talking crimes against—"

“-Jesus fucking Christ, no. No more coffee for you,” Roy cut in. He slid his hand to block Jamie from taking another sip and pushed the mug back down by the rim.

Jamie sneered at him and expelled air out pursed lips. Roy kept his hand on the mug, pushing down when Jamie tried pulling it.

“You don’t even fucking like it.”

“So? You can’t tell me what to do, Roy.”

“My house, my rules. Don’t like it, you can leave.”

“I made you breakfast,” Jamie said, pouting once again. “A fucking thank you wouldn’t go remist.”

Roy stood up. “I fucking said thank you. I’ll get you some water.”

Jamie squinted at him and mumbled under his breath but lost his bitchy expression. Roy was on the way back with a cold glass of water in hand when Jamie looked him dead in the eye, picked up the mug of coffee, and chugged it.

“Ah!” He sighed and put down the now empty mug with a dull thunk.

Jamie smirked at him in challenge and Roy felt a thrill shoot right into his cock. Then Jamie grimaced and stuck his tongue out before shoveling some food into his mouth.

“Fucking nasty.”

Roy’s imagination struck him like a bolt out of the blue, picturing himself wiping the smirk off of Jamie’s face by marching up to him and grabbing that jaw of his and holding it tight. He'd be proper shocked and his lips would fall open and they’d be so soft, pink and yielding. Roy could give him something to occupy his mouth with then, plunge his thumb inside and feel Jamie’s tongue, glistening, hot, and wet, and-

“Water,” Roy grunted, “cold water. Here. Fucking prick.”

Jamie grabbed the glass from him and took a tentative sip. He watched Roy from the corner of his eye like he was suddenly contrite and Roy couldn’t stand the way his shoulders tensed.

“The sugar is right there on the counter and milk is in the fucking fridge.”

Jamie squawked as his eyes found the white jar Roy pointed to in the corner below where he had grabbed the French press. “Are you serious? Roy, what the fuck?”

Roy let loose a smug smile and retook his seat, taking a prim sip of his coffee.

“Cruel and unusual, you are.”

“Finish your breakfast.”

Jamie did so while grumbling under his breath, eventually moving on from bemoaning Roy’s character to the match this afternoon. They both agreed that Richmond was going to destroy Watford and Jamie shed his pretend outrage to trade stories with Roy about their previous experiences with the team. The mood shifted when as Jamie was laughing at his own joke, his phone vibrated on the island in front of him. It was loud on the wood surface and Jamie stopped laughing as he reached for it.

“Just gonna…check,” Jamie muttered.

Roy watched his face closely, first on his eyes as they flicked back and forth and then his downturned mouth before Jamie breathed out a sigh. Tension that that Roy hadn’t noticed pick up Jamie’s shoulders dropped away at once until Jamie looked over at him.

“Everything good?” Roy asked, attempting to keep his tone neutral but failing spectacularly. His voice came out gruff even as he forced his eyebrows to even out.

“Yeah, grand,” Jamie said, “was, uh, a friend from Manchester. Here, I’ll take that.”

He stood up and slid his phone in his back pocket before grabbing the empty plates in front of them. Roy gritted his teeth to stop himself from demanding who it was, remembering how it went last time he tried that.

“Didn’t know you had friends,” Roy said.

Jamie laughed as he bent to put the plates in the dishwasher and Roy’s eyes flew to the ends of the shorts creeping up his thighs and away just as fast as he caught himself.

“More than you, old man.”

“I don’t mean models and sycophants.”

Jamie’s lips twisted like he was sucking on a lemon. “Models and what? Speak English, mate.”

“Sycophants,” Roy said slowly, “people who only suck up to you cause you’re famous and they want something.”

Jamie frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm. What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re not serious.”

“C’mon, Roy, we can’t all be miserable old sacs, can we?”

Roy blinked, not knowing where to even start trying to address the stupidity of that statement. Just as he opened his mouth not knowing what was about to come out of it, Jamie heaved a loud and heavy sigh.

“Anyway. Just a couple hours till the match. Think I’m gonna bounce.”

Roy turned to the digital clock on the stove and his eyebrows shot up. It had been over an hour since he had come downstairs.

“Thanks for the clothes, yeah? You know, this shirt is doing more for me than it ever did for you. Think you should let me keep it.”

“That so?” Roy said as he got to his feet and faced Jamie where he was leaning against the corner of the island.

“Blue ain’t your colour, Kent,” Jamie said with a cat like smirk.

“Hm. Whose poster did you say you had on your wall?” Roy looked to his left, his right, and then over his shoulder before pointing to himself. “Wait, was it me?” 

Jamie huffed and rolled his eyes but there was no hiding the blush that flooded his ears. Roy allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk.

“I never should have told you that,” he grumbled and scratched the back of his head. “Fine. But your loss. If I got papped wearing this, you’d make a million pounds.”

Jamie left to go upstairs and change while Roy imagined Jamie wearing his shirt and name out in public. It sent a hot surge of want running all the way down to his toes and sitting uncomfortably in his groin. Roy growled and shook his head while he puttered around his kitchen to expel the thought. It was hard not to notice how quiet it was without Jamie filling the silence so he pulled out his phone just as a text came in. It was his sister of course, with her creepy, uncanny ability to sense just when he was free to talk.

[Ash] Phoebe has questions [Saturday 8:58 AM]

Fucking sure. Phoebe had questions. Roy rolled his eyes.

[Roy] fuck off [Saturday 8:58 AM]

The little dots under their conversation rippled to life and he could just imagine Ashley furiously typing away. He stashed his phone back in his pocket as he heard the sound of Jamie descending the creaky stairs. He went to the front hall and met Jamie, back in his dark hoodie and ripped jeans just as he was putting on his trainers.

“Hey, thanks again, Grandad. Wasn’t the worst way to spend me night, yeah?” Jamie held his hand out with a smile.

“Suppose it wasn’t terrible,” Roy said, taking Jamie’s hand and letting him step in close to clap him on the shoulder. As he leaned away, Roy looked him in the eye.

“I’ll see you later. And, oi, you need anything you call me.”

Jamie’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

“I mean it, Tartt.”

Jamie was already looking into Roy’s eyes but something shifted in his gaze. The connection between their eyes grew heavy and Roy forced his face still even as a jolt of electricity fired in his gut. Then Jamie smiled. The barest curve of his full lips but it warmed his eyes and then he turned with a salute and left out the front door. Roy watched from the window Jamie’s retreating figure for a moment before turning back into his empty house. With the lack of anything to do, Roy decided to get it over with and call his sister. She answered on the first ring already wearing an evil smile. She was at her kitchen table and the radio was quietly playing a pop song by some boyband in the background.

“Let’s fucking have it then,” Roy sighed. He flopped onto the couch and glared at his phone.

“Good morning, brother mine.”

He would have ended the call if not for Phoebe popping up at her mum’s shoulder.

“Uncle Roy, we’re having pancakes for breakfast.”

“Very good.”

Ashley cleared her throat and nudged Phoebe. She blinked her clear blue eyes owlishly for a moment before gasping and turning back to Roy.

“Oh! Oh, Uncle Roy, did you make a fire for Jamie Tartt?”

Ashley grinned wide, not even attempting a poker face.

“None of your fucking business,” Roy said.

Phoebe rolled her eyes exactly like her mother and the wave of fondness that crashed over Roy stole the bite out of his tone. “He was fucking cold,” Roy snapped, “and pale as shit, what was I supposed to do?”

“Did you make him hot chocolate?”

“No.”

“Uncle Roy,” Phoebe admonished.

“You didn’t mention he was ill,” Ashley said, her eyebrows descending low.

“He’s not. Just needed a place to fucking stay.”

“Hmm, your place naturally- wait.” Ashley gasped.

Roy threw her a murderous stare.

“Did he stay the night?” She asked, her dark eyes lighting up.

“It’s not like that,” Roy growled.

“Fuck off. Shit, I mean fudge. Don’t say the ‘F’ word Phoe.”

“Not like what?” Phoebe asked and climbed into Ashley’s lap to center herself in the screen. “Not like what, Mummy?”

Roy glared at them both.

“Well. You know you how got in trouble for pulling Phillip Owen’s pigtails because you didn’t know how to tell him that having the same initials meant you were meant to be together?”

“Mummy, I’m sorry about that,” Phoebe pouted.

“I know, love. Uncle Roy is doing the same thing. He’s pulling Jamie Tartt’s pigtails.”

“Fuck right off, I am not.”

“Ohh,” Phoebe said and tilted her head. “Because you like him, like him?”

“No.” He should have known this would go poorly.

“Why not?” Phoebe asked.

“Because.”

“Because he’s a boy?”

“No, that’s not why, Phoebe.”

“Well, Mummy says you talk about him an awful lot.”

“Does she? What else does she fucking say?” Roy tilted his head expectantly at Ashley who rolled her eyes, the exact progenitor of Phoebe’s earlier gesture.

“That she likes this development very much,” Ashley said.

“There is no fucking development.”

“Alright, in that case, look Phoebe in the eye and tell her you don’t like him.”

Roy leaned in so the camera was full of his eyes and bridge of his nose. “I don’t like him.”

“If you say so, Uncle Roy. I’m going to finish my pancakes now.”

Phoebe left the screen which left Roy under the singular scrutiny of his little sister. “I like this for you.”

“What the fuck?” Roy asked, rearing back. “There is nothing to fucking like.”

Ashley shrugged. “I liked how he was looking at you, sue me.”

“He wasn’t fucking looking at me.”

“He was. He’s into you. And I googled him, he brings you up in like every interview he has.”

“Yeah, to call me old and fucking shit on me on national television.”

“Oh, like how you never shut up about him being a little bitch and prick and selfish twat and then let him use Phoebe's blanket the very next day? You’re into him, and you want to know how I know? We have the same fucking type.”

“Fuck off.”

“Roy,” Ashley drawled, “I know you. Just maybe see where it goes this time?”

“He’s straight,” Roy said and then gritted his teeth.

“…If he’s so straight than why is he looking at you like this then?”

His phone dinged as Ashley sent him a picture.

“Fuck me, I don’t know what that fucking is but drop it. You’re seeing things that aren’t fucking there. He’s just a mate. Barely. Not even.”

“If you say so,” Ashley said in a sing song voice. “Oh, are you still coming over later?”

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Good, okay I’ll see you later then.”

“Let me say bye to Phoebe.”

The camera turned and showed Phoebe already waving to him. He could see his teeth on the small preview on his screen as he smiled at her. “I’ll see you later Phoebe.”

“Bye, Uncle Roy!”

“Bye, Roy,” Ashley said before ending the call.

Roy sighed, glad the inquisition was over but then caught sight of the picture Ashley sent and promptly swore. It was a fucking screen capture. Roy from their video call last night, in most of the frame occupied with talking to Phoebe with Jamie to the side. Roy’s stomach performed a backflip as he took in Jamie’s face; the dopey smile and crinkled eyes, looking at Roy like he was the only person in the world. He could see how Ashley would mistake that look for something it wasn’t. But it was just Tartt and his stupid eyelashes and obscene lips making it appear that he was smitten. All it was, was a lack of dislike. Plain and simple. Roy looked at his eyes in the screen capture, somehow a vivid blue in the dark living room lit by the television and phone light. So he maybe was fond of Roy. That was it. His sister was seeing things.

He tossed his phone onto the square coffee table where it landed with a thud. Roy left it behind and headed toward his gym. He needed to get his head on straight. There was only a few hours until the match and his knee wouldn’t limber up itself.

-

The roar of the crowd thundered through the stadium and Roy felt the vibrations through his feet as he tore down the left flank. His knee pulsed in a familiar throb but he pumped his legs, focusing on the sound of the fans going wild. Up across the field Jamie was running with the ball like it was an extension of his foot. Effortless, he flowed like a river through Watford’s midfielders like they weren’t even there, wearing a wild grin the whole time. Roy could see Watford’s defense move to intercept the striker and pushed his legs harder, feeling the burn of trying to not fall behind.

“Don’t let him through!” Benson yelled as he chased after Jamie. The tall midfielder wasn’t fast enough and losing ground on the striker.

“Jamie!” Richard shouted. He was just ahead of Roy, skirting up center field shouting for the ball and hooking Benson’s attention. Seeming to see his tail’s distraction from out the back of his head, Jamie checked over his shoulder, his head aimed at Montlaur but his eyes finding Roy’s gaze in an electric heartbeat and then firing off a right foot cross. Like a heat seeking missile it sailed right through Richard’s legs and landed home to the side of Roy’s foot and flew into the net with a swoosh.

It was a beauty of a goal. Roy yelled in victory. Turned and Jamie was skipping right toward him and not slowing down so Roy ducked and wrapped his arms around Jamie’s waist, picking him up in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground.  Jamie cackled as Roy spun them around, crushing his arms around Roy’s neck and cinching his legs around his waist. Roy felt like he could fly.

“You were like a fucking blur!” Jamie screamed.

“I can’t believe you made that pass!” Roy yelled back as the Greyhounds converged on them. Someone grabbed Jamie from him and then he was grappling with Richard who was babbling in French. Roy grinned. He knew what incroyable meant.

They went back to the match and thirty-five minutes in had a two-goal lead. It was Richmond’s best showing in a long while and they just needed to hold the line for ten minutes. Roy was sure they could breeze into halftime until a chorus of sympathetic ouus echoed through the arena as Roy watched Benson tackle Sam, knocking his feet out from under him and he landed hard, rolling on the grass.

“Fuck!” Roy changed course to check on the defender right before the whistle blew.

Isaac, Colin, and Jeff were all ahead of Roy, with Jamie zipping back from midfield like the Tasmanian devil, spitting curses at Benson who had his hands up arguing with the ref. “What kind of tackle was that you knock off Jason Momoa piece of shit! Card him, ref!” Jamie crouched beside Sam who was now clutching at his ankle. “Alright there, Sam?”

Roy ignored the shooting pain in his knee and knelt on Sam’s other side as the Nigerian groaned at Jamie’s question. He caught Jamie’s eye as Benson’s voice came drifting over and caught the mulish glint igniting in them.

“What’d you fucking say to me, Tartt?”

Roy shook his head even as he knew it was too late. Jamie was up in a flash, stomping over to the yellow clad midfielder as Roy stayed kneeling beside Sam.

“You okay, Sam?” Roy asked.

“Ah, I think so.” Sam sat up and flexed his ankle, then nodded.

“I said,” Jamie spat, “that you look like Jason Momoa and a shovel had a fucking baby…”

Roy clapped Sam on the shoulder and started to rise to his feet, eyeing the confrontation. Benson had at least one stone on Jamie, taller and top heavy with muscle, Roy didn’t like how close they were standing even with Hughes and Goodman flanking their striker. Isaac and Montlaur drifted over to Roy and Sam with the rest of the team loosely surrounding them.

“Easy, boys,” the referee called.

Jamie ignored him and kept going with an ugly sneer as Benson’s face grew angrier by the second. “…like she must look at you and fucking shudder—"

Benson slammed his hands into Jamie’s chest, sending him flying back. Roy started cursing the second his hands connected but then Jamie hit the ground and screamed.

Roy lost it. He flew forward, vision tunneling as the pitch, refs, and players all fell away except Benson. He shoved the man like he did to Jamie and got right into his face.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” Roy shouted.

“He’s a fucking little bitch!” Benson yelled back. He squared up with Roy, looming above him, so close their noses were almost touching.

“Fuck you,” Roy seethed and pointed his finger right between the man’s eyes. “Only little bitch I see here is you, you gap toothed, piss gargling fuck. Why don’t you try and throw your weight around with me and see where it fucking gets you.

“You wanna go, Kent?”

“Come on—”

Hands grabbed the back of his shirt and both arms and he was hauled back right as he reared his fist. Both teams started yelling, some Watford players doing the same for Benson. The ref was blowing the whistle.

“Let me fucking go!” Roy roared, Isaac’s protests just a rush of noise in his ears as the defender blocked him from moving forward. Roy locked eyes with Benson and marked the shit eating grin on his face. It caused a surge of rage in Roy that ripped a primal yell from his chest. Isaac’s grip on his shoulders, Colin’s hold on his left arm, Richard’s on his right, and Moe’s on the back of his shirt started to move with him as he pushed forward.

“Hey, hey, check on your teammates!” Came Isaac’s desperate shout and it made Roy freeze. He whipped around, making the men holding him stumble. 

There was Jamie, sat on the ground with grass stains on his already scraped knees and holding his shoulder with a shocked expression, mouth open and clouded eyes fixed on Roy like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Sam knelt beside him with an arm at his back. Roy threw one last withering glare at Benson before tapping on the hands still on his shoulder. Breathing heavily, he made his way over to them ignoring the thousands of eyes and flashing lights. “Alright, Tartt? Obisanya?”

“Yes, Captain,” Sam said while Jamie nodded.

“Words, Jamie,” Roy growled, still feeling the adrenaline.

Jamie let go of his shoulder and took a breath in through his nose. “I’m-fine.”

His voice was rough with pain and made Roy want to turn right around and go beat the shit out of Benson. Roy growled as Jamie rose, tossing his good hand down to Sam for the other man to take and looking at Roy as if saying, see I’m fine. Before Roy could argue, a figure in a navy Richmond tracksuit came jogging between them.

“Hey, Sam how’s the ankle?” Arthur asked, scanning over Sam’s stance with solemn hazel eyes.

“Oh, it’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Sam said.

“And you, Jamie? Looked like you landed pretty hard.” He angled his bald head to scan their striker.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jamie said easily and Roy felt his shoulders fall a bit.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, glinting almost as bright as the older man’s one earring. “You hit your head.”

“It’s fine. Landed on me shoulder, didn’t I?”

“Give me an arm rotation?”

“Oh, come on, I told you I’m fine—”

“-Jamie,” Roy snapped. “Fucking do it so we can get back to the match.”

Jamie grumbled but stuck his arm out and swept it in a full arc, face splitting in a grimace as he did and going white.

“There,” he wheezed.

“Shit, lemme see,” Arthur said and reached for him.

Jamie took a step back and crossed his arms, using his left hand to support his right elbow. “I can play.”

“Jamie,” Arthur snapped, “if you don’t let me see I’ll have to talk with Ted about best course of action.”

Jamie laughed, a harsh and derisive bark that didn’t sound right coming from him. Not the man that spent all night in Roy’s home and talked with his sister and niece.

“Oi, you sure you’re good to play?” Roy asked.

“Yeah, swear down,” he said. When he looked at Roy his eyes widened out of the glare they had been narrowed in.

“He says he’s good to play,” Roy said to Arthur.

The medic raised his greying eyebrows and swept his eyes over Roy in a way that made him feel two feet tall.

“Sure, Roy, I’ll just take your word for it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Hey Artie!” Ted called. He waved his hand and Arthur held up a finger before turning back to Jamie.

The medic placed his hands on his hips. “Give me your pain level, one to ten. And let me look at your pupils, your head hurting at all?”

“Fucking zero, man. I’m good.”

Roy hovered as Jamie passed a concussion check. When he was finished fussing, Arthur took a step back and nodded before jogging over to Ted. They put their heads together and Ted turned a troubled stare on Jamie as Arthur motioned to him.

“The fuck are they even talking about?” Jamie grumbled.

Roy scowled, eyes flicking to Beard as the man’s eyebrows shot up and there was a commotion on the bench as Roberts stood up. He was pointing to himself and looking down the pitch at them.

“Nah, can’t be serious,” Roy muttered. But Roy was proven wrong when beside Ted, the screen being held up read the substitution Tartt for Roberts.

“Me?” Jamie asked incredulously.

The crowd booed, fresh shouts of, “wanker,” being rained down upon Ted as the coach nodded towards Jamie.

“Wanker! Wanker! Wanker!”

Speechless, Roy caught sight of the livid expression on Jamie’s face before he started walking down the pitch. His jaw was clenched and his face still white. Roy noticed that he hadn’t uncrossed his arms. When Jamie got closer to the Greyhounds, Ted reached a hand out for him to shake which the younger man ignored. He walked right by Ted, ignoring both him and Arthur who trailed after him.

“Wanker! Wanker! Wanker! Wanker!”

Roy turned away from watching Jamie disappear into the tunnel and made his way to where Roberts was. His knee twinged in protest and Roy knew that he would be paying later for that second goal. Roberts was jogging on the spot and looked nervous, shooting quick glances down the pitch and then stared at Roy like a baby deer in the headlights as he caught his approach.

“Hiya, Cap,” he greeted. Sweat was glistening on his dark skin and despite the smile on his face it looked like he was going to be sick.

“Chin up, lad,” Roy offered.

Just then the jeers around the stadium changed. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Roberts winced, looking up at the sea of blue and red surrounding them. “I’m not Jamie though,” he said and then stared into space a moment before he inhaled a deep breath before letting it out all at once.

“Yeah, thank fuck for that,” Roy said, having to raise his voice over the angry fans. “Roberts, you fucking got this.”

Whatever Roberts opened his mouth to say, it was interrupted by the whistle announcing half time. He heaved another long sigh, managing a half smile when Roy patted him on the shoulder. The Greyhounds followed Roy as he led them through the tunnel and into the dressing room to find Ted standing in front of the sitting block. Jamie was nowhere to be found and neither was their bald medic.

“Why’d you bench Jamie?” Roy demanded. He stopped in front of Ted as the team dispersed to their spots. The Greyhounds around the room voiced their agreement, a ring of disgruntled red and blue. To Isaac’s credit, he had followed Roberts and Roy caught him elbowing the other man in the side.

Ted proffered his hand. “Concussions are serious business—”

“Artie cleared him,” Roy said, “and Jamie said he was good to play.”

“I’m glad you’re standing up for him, Roy. But it’s my job as coach to make that call,” Ted said and held up a hand as Roy opened his mouth.

“Jamie is on loan,” Roy overrode him. “You can’t just fucking bench him for nothing when the whole point of him being here is to get him minutes and give a giant finger to Man City like that.”

“Well, that sure wasn’t my intention. Look, I’ve been doing this long enough to know never trust a hot-blooded young man to make the best decision for his health. Especially during a game. Match. If Artie comes back to me with a clean bill of health then sure, of course I want Jamie to play. But if he’s hurt, to the bench he will go.”

That sounded reasonable. Roy gave Ted a last look before heading to sit at his cubby and had to fight down a groan as his weight was taken off his knee. Their coach cleared his throat and the lads fell silent to listen. “Fellas, I can tell you’re worried but we can do this without him. Jamie is our ace, sure. But Watford is down a man and we are up two cause of him. Two! Our baby shark got us this far and now it’s on…”

The door opened and Arthur walked in followed by Jamie. Immediately, Roy’s eyes were drawn to the black sling his arm was in. He looked angry, scowling at Ted as he walked by.

“Oh boy, that don’t look good.”

“It’s a precaution,” Jamie spat. He threw the gel ice pack he was holding onto the floor. “I’m not fucking soft.”

“Let’s chat,” Arthur said to Ted and motioned to the office.

Ted’s eyebrows stitched together. “That bad?”

“No!” Jamie shouted from his cubby.

Arthur issued a warning look towards him before turning back to Ted. “It’s my recommendation he sits out the rest of the match. But he should be fine for light training tomorrow. If he doesn’t aggravate it further.”

The last part was thrown to Jamie who scoffed loudly. The Greyhounds made a unified sympathetic hum at the news. Beside Jamie, Cockburn leaned in and patted his good shoulder. Sam joined them as Jamie started loudly commiserating, his voice carrying to Arthur who just calmly led Ted into his own office. Roy watched with narrowed eyes as Ted shut the door and listened to what Arthur was saying. It wasn’t unusual for the bald medic to look upset, but his face was grave and his mouth set in a frown as he spoke. Roy couldn’t see Ted’s face to judge his reaction but then the coach looked through the glass at Jamie and his face was all concern. Across from Ted, Beard looked the same as he always did but his gaze was unerringly fixed on the striker and it was enough to set Roy’s teeth on edge. He rose off the bench and walked over to the lads surrounding Jamie.

“What are they talking about in there?” Roy asked. He leaned his weight on his right hip waiting for an answer.

Jamie clicked his tongue and glared at Arthur through the glass. “Artie thinks he knows me own body better than I do.”

Sam hummed and sat beside Jamie, reaching for the blue icepack he had thrown down. “Looks serious, Jamie. I don’t think I’ve seen him look this upset in a while.”

“He’s just pissed me shoulder was already hurt before I fell on it. Like he ain’t used to us getting banged up on the pitch.” Jamie shook his head as Sam held the icepack out.

Roy felt himself tense as he blinked rapidly. “Already hurt? What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing, mate. Told you I fell on me run the other day. But, Roy, listen. Tell them I can play,” Jamie said. His eyes looked dark under the fluorescent lights, piercing straight past Roy’s eyes through to his soul. “You’re captain, they’ll listen to ya.”

He had to hand it to Jamie. His puppy dog eyes could give Phoebe’s a run for her money- it twisted his insides just the same, especially with his arm in a sling. Roy frowned. He himself had played injured plenty of times, he knew why Jamie wanted to play but there was proving yourself and then there was being stupid. And Jamie didn’t need to be stupid here, not for Watford when they already had a two-goal lead and his arm was in a blasted sling.

Roy opened his mouth as Jamie’s eyes flicked between Roy’s and they hardened before he was done drawing breath to speak. “Lasso might be an idiot but Arthur actually knows what he’s doing. Take the ice pack.”

“Don’t need it,” Jamie drawled. The sneer that pulled down his lips was unfortunately familiar. “Use it for your knee, old man.”

Anger sparked in Roy’s chest but he managed to tamp down on it even as his knee gave a vicious throb. “What?”

Declan and Sam looked away but Jamie glared right at him, lip curled and his nose wrinkled. He looked like a completely different person than the one who literally jumped into his arms after making a flawless play together not fifteen minutes ago. His eyes were a cold blue, holding nothing but disdain like he couldn’t stand the sight of his own captain. Like Roy hadn’t let him into his home just yesterday. Like he hadn’t stood in Roy’s kitchen and thanked him for it so sincerely that it plucked Roy’s feeling like a shitty violin. Like Jamie hadn’t made himself right at home and livened up Roy’s huge and empty house, or did the fucking dishes even, or made them breakfast. It was just another day for Jamie, then. Roy helped him out when he needed a hand and that it appeared, was that. He hadn’t asked Roy for any of it.

“Going deaf in your old age too?” Jamie mocked. “What good even are you, anyway?”

The anger in Roy’s chest ignited. He spent hours worrying about Jamie. Roy had even wanted to hug him for Christ’s sake. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“O-oh okay, okay,” Sam cut in. He held up both his hands, drawing Roy’s and Jamie’s attention. “Why don’t we all just take a breath?”

“Fuck off, Obisanya,” Roy snapped. Sam’s eyes grew huge and shame hit Roy like a punch to nose.

“Hey!” Cockburn said, “that’s not fair.”

Roy gritted his teeth against the torrent of insults he wanted to unleash and could feel his face heat with the effort. “You’re right,” Roy seethed and took a long breath toward the ceiling. When he looked back at Sam, the lad’s expression was anxious.

“Sorry Sam,” Roy said, “Why don’t you take that. Use it for your ankle if Tartt doesn’t want it.”

He nodded to the gel ice pack and gave Jamie one last glare to find him looking down at his knees. As Roy stalked back to his cubby, he felt Jamie’s eyes on his back but resolutely didn’t look back the striker’s way. Roy didn’t have long to ignore him before Gail came to do her rounds and by the time she was done with taping an ice pack to Roy’s knee and moving on down the bench, Jamie had disappeared into the showers and Ted was gearing up for a pep talk.

Roy forced himself to listen to Ted’s story of his secondary school pep rally. Then something pulled his focus and Roy looked around to find Jamie coming back wearing only a towel. They both looked away from each other at the same time, but Roy found his eyes tracking back to him after. His broad shoulders were free of the sling he had been wearing, it was on the bench and Jamie picked it up as he sat down. From where Roy was seated, he couldn’t see the lad’s injured shoulder but Cockburn’s shocked expression was clear as day as he gawked at it.  Roy told himself he didn’t give a shit and looked back toward Ted as he wrapped up his speech. It had been a strange pep talk but admittedly effective. The lads looked hyped to get back onto the pitch even without their star striker.

“Five minutes and we’re gonna prove to everyone what Richmond is made of!”

“Yes, Coach!”

Ted smiled and nodded before turning back toward his office. He froze midway, eyes on Jamie as his mouth dropped. But then his jaw closed with a click and he pressed his lips together, moustache twitching with the effort of keeping in what he wanted to say. He nodded once, then retreated inside his office where Beard was already sitting. Roy let his curiosity win and glared to his right. Jamie was facing his cubby now, standing and pulling on a Richmond tracksuit, tugging up his joggers one handed and Roy, who usually had to mind his eyes when Jamie’s peach of an arse was out didn’t even have to think about not staring because he couldn’t look away from the bruise on Jamie’s shoulder. The upper half of his deltoid was a shock of dark purple and red and wrapped over to his shoulder blade.

“Ouch, Jamie,” Sam said, “that looks painful.”

Sam got up off the bench and blocked Roy’s view and it was then he realized his fists were clenched on his lap. If Benson hadn’t already gotten a red card and was out of the match, Roy would have earned one of his own, that was for sure. He’d have marched straight up to the giant cunt and punched him in the gut, then grab his shirt, heave him down and smash his forehead right in his nose and feel the crunch against-

Nope. Roy didn’t care.

“Ain’t so bad,” Jamie said nonchalantly. In the sides of his vision, Roy watched Sam help Jamie’s bad arm into the sleeve of the hoodie. He slapped Sam’s hand away when he attempted to help him with the zipper. “I’m not a baby,” he barked.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said stepping backward. Roy turned to fully glare at Jamie then, watching as he pulled up his zipper with his right hand and gritting his teeth at the clear expression of pain flashing across his face.

Roy didn’t give one single fuck.

“No, it’s- you’re fine,” Jamie muttered, “‘m being a prick.”

Fucking right, Roy thought. He still didn’t care. Didn’t break his glare as Jamie peeked at him with big eyes and looked away just as fast.

“Why don’t I help you with this then?” Sam asked. Roy hadn’t seen the sneaky bugger grab Jamie’s sling, but he held it in his hand and waited.

Jamie shrugged his one shoulder. Exactly like he did in the boot room when Roy was giving him shit for not answering his phone. Exactly like this morning in Roy’s kitchen. It barely even registered as unusual then, but now Roy stared. How had he missed something like that? Jamie’s shoulder had been hurt the whole time and he hadn’t bothered to let Roy know. Why would he? Did he not think Roy would have given a shit? Suddenly, he couldn’t stand to sit there a second longer. He tore the icepack off his knee, vaulted to his feet and made his way to the tunnel, intending to wait there instead of the dressing room. He was an idiot. Worrying about Jamie Tartt of all people when they still had half of a match to play. Roy wasn’t worried at all. Only pissed that he thought Jamie actually liked him until just now. He wallowed in the tunnel, eyes on the distant green pitch and listening to the chanting fans. They’d be going on soon.

A couple minutes later, not long enough for Roy to reign in his temper, the Greyhounds started filing into the tunnel behind him. Someone came up to him, and Roy turned a frown on them only to scowl harder when he saw it was Jamie. His brow was pinched together and two highlights each were twinkling in his clear irises framed by thick curved lashes that were longer than should be allowed. He looked down and they fanned across his cheek, casting a shadow in the dim light of the tunnel.

“Hey, Roy, I—”

“-Save it,” Roy growled, “got a bloody match to play and I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

Roy looked forward, dismissing Jamie by turning away and listening to his footfalls as he retreated to where the second team was at the back of the line. Tension bloomed inside the tunnel and Roy knew that he should say something to the team but he was too angry to speak. He let his rage pool in his gut, ignoring the fleeting glances from the lads and what felt like a tractor beam he figured must be Jamie’s at the back of his neck.

He didn’t care. All that mattered was the match.

Roy ruled the second half. He felt Jamie’s eyes on him the whole time from the bench and it was fuel to the fury burning in him. Adrenaline flooded his veins as the crowd roared and Roy allowed himself to bask in it. They won 3-nil and it was a near hat trick for Roy. A few of the Watford lads came up to shake his hand and then Roy was pulled away by Isaac and Colin. It was his strongest match all season and Roy let himself enjoy it, ignoring Jamie for the entire celebration in the dressing room and putting all thoughts of the striker to the back of his mind. Despite the victory and later having dinner with his sister and Phoebe, Roy still felt a thick cloud of anger in his head as he drove home from their place. His knee was absolutely killing him and it made him feel ancient. When he pulled into his driveway to find a familiar figure sitting on his front steps, Roy almost reversed right back out.

Growling under his breath, he opened his door and slammed it shut. Jamie, in an ash grey hoodie with the hood draped atop his head, ripped it off with his red headphones and got to his feet. He held them in both hands, his right arm still in the sling and twiddling his fingers nervously as Roy limped up to his front door. He said nothing as he climbed the steps and put his key into the lock.

“Roy, hey man,” Jamie greeted. “I wanna say something.”

He fell quiet as Roy unlocked the door and opened it. Jamie was quick to continue. “Look, I’m really sor—”

Roy slammed the door shut behind him and stepped into the foyer, hanging his leather jacket up and tossing his keys in the dish beside the orchids. Behind him, a quiet knock wrapped on the door.

“Roy?” Jamie’s muffled voice filtered in.

Roy toed off his boots.

“Roy, I’m really sorry. Was so shit of me today. You stuck up for me, like. And I threw it right in your face… I didn’t mean it.”

A quiet scoff escaped him and he began walking to the stairs and had one foot on the first step before Jamie’s voice started up again. He stopped to listen only because he was debating if getting into a comfy pair of joggers was worth the torture it would be on his knee to climb the steps right now.

“I was just…I’m sick of Lasso thinking I’m some kind of little bitch. I’m not! I- I could have played and he just benched me and now everyone is going to fucking see. I were being a team player and like he's still not happy? But- but if you’re still there. I’m really sorry. You didn’t deserve me treating you that way, it were wrong. I’m sorry. Okay. Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Despite himself, Roy felt his one heart string tingle. He clung to his anger, determined to not be manipulated by Jamie fucking Tartt and his shitty apology but Roy was wrenching the door open before he knew it. Below him, down the steps Jamie stopped and turned around with the most hopeful look on his face. It fell when he took in Roy’s expression.

He could feel how tight his own jaw was and his eyebrows almost hurt with how closely they were drawn together.

“You can punch me if it’ll make you feel better? Or headbutt me?” Jamie’s eyes were big as he asked. That cursed puppy dog look before his face scrunched up which was no less endearing. “Maybe not me nose though. Or… or that’s okay too I guess. I mean, yeah, it’s fine. Um. Can you say something?”

Most of Roy’s anger left him before Jamie finished talking but the lingering bits had hooks right in his ribs. He believed Jamie when he said he was sorry. He did, but…

“I’m still pissed,” Roy said.

Jamie looked down, the very picture of contrition. But then his chin shifted minutely to the side.

“Do I hear a but?” Jamie looked up through his pretty eyelashes.

Roy glared at him but this time it made Jamie smile instead of frown and that wasn’t the intended effect, damn it.

“But nothing. You’re a fucking prick.”

Jamie made to reach his right arm up, winced, and then scratched the back of his head with his left hand.

“Where’s your ice pack?”

“At home?”

“If you wanna come in, you can use mine.”

“Yeah? Fuck, yeah of course. Please!”

“It’s just a fucking icepack,” Roy growled and backed up from the door.

Jamie was up the stairs in a flash and Roy rolled his eyes. Then the younger man hesitated before the threshold.

“So, I feel like if I come in that means you forgive me,” he said.

Roy scowled, feeling more than hearing the growl in his chest. He turned his back saying nothing and walked down the hall. As expected, Jamie followed.

“That weren’t a no!”

Chapter Text

Next morning, Roy awoke in an empty house. He had kicked Jamie out after they finished the Transformers movie. It admittedly hadn’t been the worst way to spend his time even if both of them had their own icepacks as they sat watching. Jamie had done all of the talking, not even seeming put out that Roy made no effort to contribute to the conversation. It was only as he left did he seem unsure, stumbling over his words and fidgeting with his shirt as Roy silently held his front door open. It was then that Roy’s will crumbled in the wake of Jamie’s sad puppy look and he punched the lad’s good shoulder with a growled see you tomorrow. The smile that lit up Jamie’s face then threatened to coax one out of Roy so he slammed the door shut.

Now, looking through the window to the coach’s office, Jamie bestowed that same smile. He had just passed a sheet of paper off to Beard and was walking toward the dressing room grinning at Roy because he just caught sight of him. A good night’s sleep meant that Roy was able to keep his face in check but not that disconcerting warm feeling that was starting to happen more often in Jamie’s presence.

“Hey, Roy!” Jamie chirped as he closed the office door behind him. “Hey, lads.”

Around the room, the Greyhounds called out their greetings, a few of them flicking their eyes at Roy warily. They were all changed and chatting amongst themselves. Roy frowned and had to take a second look. They were huddled loosely in larger groups instead of their usual two or three man pods which Roy had a sneaking suspicion was down to Lasso’s influence.

“Arthur not clear you for training?” Roy asked. In the coach’s office, Beard was scowling at Jamie. The paper he had been given was scrunched in his fist.

“He did,” Jamie said and showed off a wide arm circle. “Barely even hurts anymore.”

“Good, then get changed.”

Jamie pursed his lips but said nothing in response to Roy’s order which should have been his first clue. He didn’t think anything of Jamie going to his cubby and calling out to Jeff, starting a conversation about some video game or another. Roy finished putting on his boots and pulling up his socks before looking at the clock. It was almost time to head onto the pitch for drills. Just as he was wondering if his knee would give him trouble today, he caught movement in the corner of his eye as Ted walked into the coach’s office, later than usual. A burst of laughter from the lads around Jamie which now included Sam and Richard drew Roy’s attention.

“The fuck aren’t you changed yet?” He demanded at once.

Jamie looked over from where he was slouched on the bench. “I’m hurt, you saw.”

“They cleared you for training,” Roy said as if Jamie wasn’t the one to tell him that.

“Lasso benched me,” he spat, “he thinks I’m a little bitch, don’t he? Then fuck him, I ain’t playing along with his cowboy kumbaya bullshit.”

“Jamie,” Roy growled.

Before Jamie could let loose whatever whiny reply was on the tip of his tongue, the door to the coach’s office opened and Ted was making a bee line to the striker.

“Hey Jamie, I heard you weren’t going to be able to run with us today. That true?”

Jamie looked down and raised his eyebrows like he thought Ted was an idiot. “Yep,” he said, popping his lips on the P.

“Why’s that?”

“ ‘Cause I’m hurt.”

“Hm. Really sorry to hear that.” Ted started walking back toward the office, looking as upset as Roy had ever seen him.

Jamie let out a loud scoff. “Relax, Ted. It’s just practice.”

Ted slowed to a stop and the chatter around the room lulled. It was quiet as Ted lingered before the doorway. He turned on his heel and started walking back, a tense smile on his lips. Richard and Jeff retreated, and Sam took a seat at his cubby to make room for Ted.

“Hey,” he said throwing his hands up. “If you can’t practice, you can’t practice. You’re hurt? You’re hurt. It’s as simple as that. But it ain’t about that. At all.”

Jamie stayed slouched on the bench, lips pursed like he was about to ask Ted what he was talking about, but the coach pressed on. “You’re sitting in here and you’re supposed to be the franchise player. And yet here we are, talking about you missing practice.” Ted’s voice started to raise a fraction and then he laughed bitterly before continuing with anger colouring his tone. Jamie’s face slowly fell as he flicked his eyes over Ted, finally clueing into the energy the coach was giving off. Every eye around the room was wary as no one quite knew what to make of this version of Ted. Roy himself was a little impressed, still a little sore with Jamie and quietly smug about him getting a well-deserved dressing down.

“We’re talkin’ about practice. You understand me? Not a game. Not the game you go out there and die for. Right? Play every weekend like it’s your last? Right? No, we are talking about practice man. Practice! You know you’re supposed to be out there. You know you’re supposed to lead by example. You’re just shoving that all aside.”

Ted paused to take a breath and Jamie sighed loudly, smirking and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Roy leaned back a little, frowning. This wasn’t like Ted. His voice held anger that didn’t quite feel warranted.

“So here we are, Jamie. We’re talking about practice. Not a game. Not the game. We’re talking practice. With your team. With your teammates. The only place we get to play together,” Ted continued, raising his finger in a circle. “We got control over. Rest of the time it’s us eleven against those eleven!”

Roy looked on as Ted’s voice rose again, gaping as he really started shouting. “We’re talking about practice, man! I’m talking about practice!” Ted yelled, pointing to himself and then jabbed finger at Jamie. “And you can’t do it.”

Roy glanced back at Jamie, expecting him to have a sneer on his face and a retort on his lips but a pit instantly formed in his gut as he took in the striker. Still slouched with his back against the cubbies, his hands were fidgeting in his jacket pockets and he was flexing his legs like he wanted to get up and leave, only he was keeping himself still as he stared unblinking at the Richmond patch on Ted’s grey sweater. Roy knew that empty look, would recognize it from a mile away by now. It’s what had started this whole mess that had Roy second guessing everything he knew about Jamie Tartt. Back in Wolverhampton, Jamie had looked right through him, gone behind the eyes the exact same way he was looking through Ted now. Checked out, not there, empty. Roy was getting up and stepping between them before he even realized what he was doing.

“That’s enough,” Roy warned, anger broiling in his gut.

“Roy—”

“-No. You’re done. You’ve clearly got shit going on and you’re taking it out on your players. You wanted me to be a captain? Well, this is what it fucking looks like, me telling you to leave your shit at the door. We clear?”

Ted breathed out through his nose and clenched his jaw, staring Roy down as the silence between them swelled. Roy was impressed despite himself but had no intention of backing down. He crossed his arms one over the other and raised his chin in challenge. Ted bit.

“Why don’t you and me have a chat in my office?”

“Let’s.”

Ted glanced to the floor below Jamie’s feet. “Jamie. When you get out there set up the cones so the other reserves can do a little passing drill.”

“Jamie,” Roy growled, “get your fucking kit on and go with first team.”

The room was so quiet the buzzing of the overhead lights seemed loud. Ted’s lips thinned but then he nodded. “Well, you heard your captain,” he said and then started walking away.

The studs on Roy’s boots clacking on the floor were loud in the room as he followed Ted into his office. After he shut the door behind Roy, Ted leaned back against his desk with his hands in his khaki pockets and frowned. If Roy was a different man, he might have been nervous.

“You can’t be undermining me like that, Roy.”

“Fuck you!” Roy yelled, “Are you fucking serious? You’re the one who forced us to be roommates so I’d take him under my wing, right? And now you want me to look the other fucking way when you’re treating him unfairly?”

“Unfairly?” Ted said, “That boy has had an attitude problem since I got here.”

“Yeah, he’s a pre-Madonna prick, I fucking know. But he’s trying. He’s passing, he’s getting along better with the team, and you’re still not happy with him. What the fuck is he supposed to do?” He growled with the effort of wrangling the volume of his voice down. “I’m not arguing with your call to bench him, you were right. But getting in his face and yelling at him? That’s not the way to go.”

Ted looked at him without blinking for a while before a long sigh erupted from his mouth. He dragged a hand over his face and left it over his mouth, staring ahead in a way not unlike Jamie had just been doing. Roy felt a flash of panic thinking that Ted was about to start crying.

“You’re right. Man, I’m oh for two here,” he sighed. He gave a humourless laugh and crossed his arms across his chest, side eyeing Roy with a smile that held some warmth. “You’re a good man to have in a guy’s corner, Roy Kent.”

“Yeah, Richmond till we die or whatever,” Roy grumbled.

Ted flashed another sad smile and looked out the window at the empty dressing room. “You think Jamie would appreciate an apology from me?”

“Yeah.”

Ted turned his head back around at Roy’s quick reply and looked uncertain.

“He wants you to like him,” Roy said just as he had the thought. Ted raised an eyebrow at him and Roy continued, knowing he was right about this. “I mean it. Only reason he was being a prick is ‘cause he thinks that you think he’s a little bitch. His words not mine.”

“I’ve told him I’m proud of him,” Ted said plaintively.

Roy thought of Jamie’s bluster today compared to the other night when Roy took him home. There had been none of the attitude Jamie was famous for. He had been unguarded and warm even. Thinking about it now, Roy had never thought of another person’s eyes as sweet before. But more than once that night Jamie looked at him in the light of the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the telly, evidenced by the screen capture Ashley took, and his eyes, blue hazel around his pupils surrounded by dark turquoise were open to everything he was feeling. Affection was the one that stuck with Roy which made it that much harder to reconcile the disgusted way Jamie looked at him yesterday and listen to the insults thrown at him. The truth of it only made it harder to hear. Sharp like a fucking hedgehog shooting a spike right into Roy’s chest.

“He’s like a hedgehog, Jamie. Spikes all fucking out making himself look bigger than he actually is. It’s all defense, fucking all of it, I reckon.”

“So, you’re saying he needs to trust me before he lets down his quills.”

“I dunno. I don’t know shit about hedgehogs.”

“Hm. Positive reinforcement.”

“What?”

“Ah, just something Keeley told me once. Well, Captain. You should get back out on the field.”

“Pitch,” Roy corrected. “Where are you going then?”

“Gonna check on our new striker. Should be just about finished rehabbing his knee.”

Roy nodded. He was looking forward to seeing what this Dani Rojas could do on the pitch.

“Oh, Roy!” Ted called just as Roy was passing through the threshold. “I was thinking maybe now that you and Jamie are on better terms… or no don’t wanna jinx it, uh now that you two aren’t wanting to kill each other, then it might be a good idea to have our two aces get some team building in before the match in Newcastle. What do you say about changing the roommate assignments this weekend?”

“No,” Roy said too quickly. “No. I think you should leave ‘em for a bit.” He watched Ted get a fond look on his face and a displeased grunt grumbled in his throat. “Just, he’s starting to trust me.”

“Oh, I think more than starting too.”

Roy shook his head. “He’s hiding something.”

“…Hiding something. That feeling you said you had? After Wolverhampton. It’s still there?”

“Yeah. Look, you saw him the other day. Dead on his feet, he fell asleep during yoga, did Beard tell you that? Ah your family was here, were probably distracted.”

Ted winced. “Maybe it’s just a rough patch,” he said but then his mustache quirked in a frown at the look that passed over Roy’s face. “You don’t think so.”

“I think,” Roy said and then braced himself to say what he had been thinking out loud. “There’s someone else involved. He's weird about his phone and who he talks to.”

“That’s not exactly abnormal, Roy. Same could be said for you too.”

“Hm.” Roy considered it. It was true, he hated people in his business. Even more so when he was young and full of more piss and vinegar than he was now. As much as Roy hated to admit it, Ted wasn’t an idiot and arguably more level-headed than himself. But no, every occasion that Jamie gave him pause stuck like a thorn in his skin and wouldn’t budge. It played in his head alongside when his sister had been acting the same way all those years ago. Flinching at everything, looking over his shoulder, that panic attack, the nightmares…

Ashley had been protecting that O’Sullivan fuck when he’d been hurting her, had her so scared and ashamed it had taken him endangering Phoebe for Ashley to seek help. Just the thought of it made Roy’s blood boil. But Jamie broadcasted every bit of his life on Instagram and Twitter and now Tik Tok apparently and there was nothing Roy could point to as a smoking gun.

“Roy?” Ted’s voice startled Roy out of his reverie.

“I’m right about this,” Roy said.

“Okay. Alright, well roommate assignments stand then. If Jamie gives you any more cause for concern, you let me know, okay. I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah, good,” Roy said. He spun on his heel but lingered past the doorway. “Thanks, Ted.”

When he got to the pitch, he was pleased to find that Jamie had kitted up and was stretching with the team. At Roy’s approach they all looked at him but he narrowed his eyes and most of them looked back at Beard who was leading the stretch. Jamie kept his gaze until Roy gave him an approving nod and he looked away fast as lightning.

It was a good start to training, the lads were still riding the high of yesterday’s win and the promise of a new striker had everyone but Jamie excited. Then Dani Rojas came bursting onto the pitch like a comet, faster than the wind that had been buffeting them all morning, chanting his own name and greeting every single man with double high fives. He reminded Roy of an excitable dog and it was endearing enough that he found himself responding to Dani’s high five with one of his own.

“It is an honour, Roy Kent,” Dani said with a smile that crinkled his dark eyes.

Roy didn’t have time to reply before he was bounding over to Jamie with his hands raised. And Roy wasn’t surprised exactly, but the intensity of Jamie’s reaction left a bad taste in his mouth. He flinched backward and reared his arm back, bracing to defend himself while Dani hesitated. But the man’s smile didn’t even waver as he changed course to place his hands on Jamie’s raised forearm and shook it like he was shaking hands. Jamie made a noise of disgust as Dani shot off and cursed under his breath.

“Chipper dickheads like that can never back it up on the pitch,” he said to Roy.

They watched as Dani got passed a ball and he showed off some sublime footwork running it up the pitch. He nutmegged Colin before passing it off and when the ball returned to him he received the pass in an almost perfect bicycle kick that sailed past O’Brien. Roy laughed as the Greyhounds went crazy. Fuck, Richmond might actually survive this season. Jamie’s expression was sour, dripping with scorn and Roy found that he preferred his face with a smile.

“Did you see that that?” Roy asked, walking up to him and putting an arm around Jamie’s shoulders. The lad reared his head back trying to act suspicious but was given away by the smile he was trying to fight.

“I can’t really tell but it seems like he’s very good.”

“Ah, shut up, Roy.” Jamie tried pushing him away, but he hooked his arm around Jamie’s neck, hauled him down, and scrubbed his knuckles in his hair.

“Hey!” Jamie squawked.

Roy grinned and let him up, ruffling his hand through Jamie’s ridiculous gelled up hair once more before trotting off, snorting at Jamie’s bright red ears.

“Cheers!”

“You ruined me hair!”

Roy turned and started walking backwards, pointing to himself and acting confused but then breaking to smirk. Flushing in his whole face now, Jamie tried fixing his hair but Roy well and truly messed it up. Satisfied and feeling a little giddy, Roy threw himself into drills. The morning passed swiftly and soon everyone was heading back inside to do cool downs. As he trailed after the lads heading toward the tunnel, Roy looked back at the two stragglers. Jamie took a shot at the cross bar as Dani looked on and cheered. From this distance Roy couldn’t understand what they were saying but Jamie’s pissy expression was clear enough. It gained a competitive edge when Dani shot another ball at the same spot Jamie had. Roy watched Jamie point to the left post and then position himself for the shot with his legs fluidly measuring out the paces before they planted in a wide stance. His feet carried him perfectly to the ball and the muscles in his legs rippled as he shifted his weight through the kick, sending the ball ricocheting off the left post with a clang. Roy felt a thrill at the sport if it. He didn’t usually get a half chub from watching another player shoot a ball unless it was a fantastic goal, but Jamie’s form was perfect and his shorts fluttered around his thighs from the wind. Roy couldn’t tear his gaze away, he could see every curve with the way the fabric rippled around like a sail.

Then Dani said something to Jamie that made him preen. He grinned wide and bright and Roy felt his cock twitch. Immediately he was annoyed. He watched Dani make the same shot and felt nothing but appreciation of a shot well executed like when he had done that bicycle kick which annoyed him further. They were even wearing the same thing, Richmond grey hoodie with the red chevron on the chest and navy blue below it with the dark shorts. Jamie Tartt and his perfect arse had never been such a distraction before back when Roy hated his guts. Jamie started queuing up another shot and Roy made the executive decision to remove himself. He went to the gym to cool down from training, intending on making some progress on the book Ted gave him. He just had a few more chapters to go. Then Keeley Jones popped up beside him and walked along in her heeled boots. She messed with him like he had been messing with Jamie earlier.

Made him smile and forget all about Jamie Tartt's arse, and thighs, cheekbones, that chin, and his stupid hair. Then she left, and the scent of her perfume lingered. Roy couldn’t focus on his book after that, instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes, how good she looked in that top, and how she said walking on the treadmill with him was like them going on walk. Roy bet that she didn’t even know what she was saying and how it summoned a kernel of dizzying warmth in his belly that wouldn’t go away. Then, because Roy could never have nice things, a fucking ghost tripped Dani because fucking Nate grabbed something from the haunted treatment room. Roy couldn’t confess to be a smart man but he was smart enough to know there were things that couldn’t be explained. He wasn’t about to mess with anything he couldn’t fight back. Which was how he ended up at the Crown and Anchor seated at a table with Sam beside him and the rest of the Greyhounds filling up half the pub behind them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Isaac cried, “What you’re telling me is that we’ve got four hundred ghosts?”

“That’s too many ghosts,” Colin said from behind Roy. He looked back to see that the lad’s eyes were big and worried.

Beside him, Jamie groaned. “We’re doomed.”

“We cannot fight them all,” Richard said, shaking his head.

“We’re not going have to fight them, Richard,” Ted said dryly.

Sam leaned forward. “Wait, so, Coach, how do we fix this? We can’t change the past.”

The worried rumbles from the lads fell silent as they looked to their coach to explain. Ted was calm about it; he had a plan. Which, bringing something they valued to be sacrificed sounded ominous. But Roy trusted that Ted knew what he was doing by now so he made sure the lads fell in line when they pushed back. The only one he was really worried about was Jamie. Standing with him beside his Aston Martin after escaping the crowd of fans who heard about them being at the Crown and Anchor, Roy leaned his forearm on the top of the driver’s side door and glared through the open window.

“You’re going to be there tonight,” Roy told him. “Don’t care if you’re in a tiff with Ted.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I reckon I will, yeah, if the whole team is going. And the gaffer and me are square now.” Roy’s eyebrows shot up. “Said he were sorry,” Jamie said and looked down while shrugging. “Guess even he ain’t have it all figured out all the time.” His ears were pink which made Roy think that Ted had offered some heartfelt compliments while he was at it.

“Oh. Good.”

“What’d you say to him anyway?”

“None of your business.”

“It was about me though.”

Roy tapped the top of the car twice. “See you later, Tartt. And don’t forget to bring something important.”

Jamie gave him the finger.

-

Shared between the lot of them, the one bottle of mescal wasn’t enough to get Roy drunk but he did have a buzz. Intent on enjoying the feeling, Roy took in a deep breath and let it out, watching it mist in the cold air before closing his eyes and tipping his head back. Outside the loose ring they made around the fire, the pitch was dark but here Roy could feel the heat of the flames. A few of the lads had drifted away so they had room to dance and their off-key singing was funny to listen to.

Jamie and Sam were the clear lightweights. The more sips of mescal Jamie had the more disgusted his facial expressions became as he drank the smoky drink. His voice, which was more shouting than singing, was loud in the background but Roy still heard the swish of a coat as someone came to stand beside him.

He looked to find Keeley, practically swimming in a zipped up Richmond jacket with the hood up. The flickering flames heated up her jade-coloured eyes and the tips of her braided pigtails resting outside the collar of her coat.

“Thought you were in for a nap,” Keeley said with a smile.

“You sound like Tartt.”

Keeley laughed. “He’s a bad influence.”

“Looked like you were having fun over there.”

They both looked to where the Greyhounds were dancing. Jamie had his arm slung around Dani’s shoulders, both of them shout singing into each other’s faces. Roy felt his smile slip and rage coil so suddenly in his belly that he was dumbfounded by the force of it. Sam had told him once that Jamie got affectionate when he drank but Roy was unused to seeing it in person. He didn’t like it.

“I was!” Keeley said and he almost jumped at her voice. He rushed to turn his back and give her his full attention. “But then I thought I’d come warm up by the fire.”

Roy couldn’t help but return Keeley’s smile with a small one of his own. “Their loss. I didn’t expect to see you here to be honest.”

“Jamie invited me actually, if you can believe that. Said I’m part of his team.”

Roy sneered. “You’re apart of the whole team. Not just his.”

“Oh, jealous?”

Jealous? Of how easily Jamie could just text Keeley even after they were broken up? Say vulnerable shit like that with a broken heart? He wasn’t an idiot, he knew Jamie still had feelings for her. Jealous? Never. Jamie was moving on to Dani, wasn’t he? What did he have to be jealous of? Certainly not Dani. Younger than Roy. Had better hair than Roy. Could keep up with Jamie on the pitch better than Roy.

Keeley was looking at him a little too knowingly, the mescal was making her eyes bright. He glared back into the fire to avoid her glittering stare. “It was really sweet of you to put in blankie.”

Roy frowned as his eyes flew toward Keeley’s but at finding them sincere, he relaxed. “Looked like your chain meant a lot too.”

Keeley’s lips twisted down. “My mum gave it to me. Said to sell it when I couldn’t make it as an actress. Bleh!” She gave herself a shake. “The ghosts have it now though. Good riddance. Amazing how much lighter I feel, you know?”

“Sure that isn’t the booze?”

Keeley shoved him and he let himself be pushed back a bit, smiling. “Oi! I can hold my liquor thank you very much.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice Tartt passing off his mescal to you.”

“Did he? Oh, I didn’t even notice, that little sneak. What’s a girl to do though?”

“It’s a mystery,” Roy said and smirked at her. She had her arms crossed tightly and Roy fought an urge to slide behind her and wrap his arms around her to keep her warm. Feel the press of her body against his like how he’d seen Jamie do when they were together. Get in just as close and feel her curves against his front. He’d seen Jamie kiss the side of her neck a few times and with his ridiculous lips.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear apparently because Jamie’s loping footsteps came approaching from behind them. “Heyyyy!” Jamie trilled as he shoved himself between them. “You talking about me?”

He put his arms around both their shoulders and swung his head back and forth flashing a grin. Roy let him lean most of his weight against him as he placed a hand on the center of his back. Roy’s heart skipped a beat as he felt Keeley’s hand brush his.

“-No—”

“-Yes—"

“Ah, nice try, Grandad. You’re obsessed with me!”

He looked down at Jamie’s smile and then further down at Keeley’s behind him. They were both gorgeous. Keeley looked so small next to Jamie, fit so neatly under his arm, and both of them were smiling at him.

“How much have you had to drink?” Roy growled to Jamie.

“Less than you! I see them rosy cheeks, Kent.”

Roy did get flushed when he drank too much but he hadn’t gotten anywhere near that point tonight. He rolled his eyes and looked back into the fire as Jamie turned his head while leaving his arms where they were around Roy and Keeley’s shoulders.

“So mint that you’re here, Keeley.”

“Thanks, Jamie! This is definitely the most fun I’ve had at an exorcism.”

“Say again?” Roy asked, tearing his eyes away from the flames to level them at Keeley.

“I mean, like, ain’t a proper one really cause we’re not in the gym,” Jamie said, “but there’s no Richmond without Keeley Jones so I’m glad you’re here anyway, kid.”

Keeley’s eyes were shimmering in the honeyed light of the fire, and she shared a warm look with Roy who couldn’t keep the laugh he smothered out of his eyes. “That’s really nice of you, Jamie. But I meant like exorcism- getting rid of the ghosts.”

“Oh!” Jamie’s full lips puckered in a circle and the look of dawning comprehension on his face started a strange heavy feeling in Roy’s chest. “Makes sense, makes sense.”

Keeley laughed, her voice like an electric current running through his veins. The way she was holding onto Jamie and the way Jamie was holding onto her but leaning fully against Roy, it made him feel alive. He felt strong and powerful like he could take on the fucking world. Right now, Keeley was smiling at them and Jamie was warm against his side as he turned with his magnet of smile on his lips.

“You ever been to an exorcism?”

Roy put on a sigh. “Can’t say I have, no. You?”

Jamie scoffed in offense. “Have you not been listening? No exorcism but Keeley’s been to like five.”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s who you know,” Keeley said flippantly. “Beard has me beat though.”

“Not surprising, that,” Jamie frowned.

“Of course he does,” Roy said, “wouldn’t be surprised if one of them were his own.”

“Roy!” Jamie laughed.

“What?” Roy said, smirking down at Jamie. “He’d be flattered.”

“Let’s go and ask him then,” Keeley said.

Roy’s eyes flitted to Keeley before sliding back to Jamie who was looking back at him with a wary pout, clearly thinking the exact same thing as Roy.

“Fuck no.”

Jamie chortled and leaned into his side and Roy felt his lips soften into a smile. Keeley leaned past Jamie and the grin on her face was huge.

“Wow, you’re like proper friends now.”

Roy growled low in his chest while Jamie laughed aloud.

“Mad, innit? Who would have thought.”

“Fuck off the both of you,” Roy said. He stayed exactly where he was as Jamie leaned away from him but kept an arm around his shoulders.

“See how he doesn’t deny it? That’s how I know he likes me,” Jamie said in a loud whisper.

“Ringing endorsement, really,” Keeley laughed.

“A what?”

“An endorsement. Like how you endorsed that Darsteiner beer, remember?”

“Ugh,” Jamie scowled and shook his head like a dog.

“You don’t like anything with taste.”

“I guess that’s true. I like you, don’t I? And you’re a tasteless heathen.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You can’t fucking just repeat what I say.”

“You don’t have the book on the word fuck, Grandad.”

“I don’t have the what?”

“The book.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

“Alright,” Keeley huffed, “this is where I leave you. Later, Roy, bye Jamie.”

“Oi,” Roy said as Keeley pulled out of Jamie’s grip. It like a knot untying as Jamie let his arm fall off of Roy’s back. “You got a ride back?”

Keeley raised a delicate eyebrow. “I’m a big girl, you know.”

“Ah, he’s just being a captain, Keels,” Jamie said and slapped Roy’s arm with the back of his hand and then his palm.

Roy pretended to glare at him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a Greyhound now.”

“Mm, part of the team,” Jamie corrected.

“Right,” Keeley laughed. “Yeah I’m going to go bug Rebecca and see if I can get a ride with her. Her light is still on up there.”

They all looked up towards the building where the window of Rebecca’s office was a searing white against the night.

“Goodnight, Keeley,” Roy said.

“Captain,” Keeley said and tipped and imaginary hat before turning her back on them and walking toward the tunnel. The Greyhounds and Ted yelled their goodbyes after her.

“Did we drive her off?” Jamie asked.

He was looking to the side and Roy could see the stiff pout on his lips.

“Think we might’ve, yeah.”

Jamie turned a glare on him but it cracked on his face from a grin and a tumbling laugh. Roy couldn’t help a smirk but he rolled his eyes to mask it.

“And why'd she say later to you and bye to me? Don’t make sense.”

“Obviously she wants to see me again and not you.”

Jamie laughed loudly. “Well I know that can’t be it.”

“Alright,” Roy said, turning away from the heat of the fire to look at Jamie. His hands were cold in his pockets. “What is it then?”

“She wants you to keep your hopes up so you aren’t so sad. Knows you need to hear you’ll see her again where as me? I know it.”

“God, you’re a prick.”

Just like a prick, Jamie stuck out his tongue and made a smug noise at him. Roy heaved a sigh and turned back to the fire before shutting his eyes.

“If you’re going to stick around, shut up so I can enjoy the fire in peace.”

He could feel Jamie’s gaze on him which he allowed. It was nice just standing here with the heat of the fire and Jamie at his side. Even quiet, his presence could be felt.

After a while of basking, Roy pulled in another breath through his nose and opened his eyes. He looked to find Jamie with his shoulders hunched up and hands in his pockets looking at the ground with a smile on his face and his bottom lip between one of his front teeth. He caught Roy’s stare and swung his shoulder to nudge Roy’s. His smile became a grin, the shifting orange light of the fire made shadows in the cut of his cheekbones. Roy thought that he could take someone’s breath away.

“What?” he said. Jamie’s eyes were bright from the mescal and something else that made Roy’s stomach squirm.

He nudged Jamie’s shoulder back in kind. “You’re a good lad, you know.”

Jamie’s lips shifted from their smile into that perfect pink circle and his eyes glittered in the firelight. This time, Roy didn’t resist the pull of his gaze and saw the careful hope there. It emboldened him enough to press on, recalling Jamie’s words when he put his his boots in the barrel.

“I think your mum would be proud of you. I know Ted is. I am too.”

Roy had been expecting a quip from Jamie at that admission but he was looking at Roy like he could hardly believe it.

“You’re going to catch flies with your mouth open like that, you muppet.”

An embarrassed laugh came gusting out Jamie’s mouth. “Never took you for a sentimental drunk.”

“Please,” Roy scoffed, “I can hold my liquor unlike you.”

“You’re proud of me?” Jamie asked.

Roy rolled his eyes as Jamie leaned into his vision. “You’re such a prick.”

“A prick you’re proud of though,” Jamie laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll take the win gratutius, like.”

Roy shook his head but didn’t correct him. It did make him think of something though.

“It’s Rojas by the way. Ro-has. Not Ro-jas.”

“It’s spelled with a ‘J’ though?”

“Didn’t you hear him singing his own name?”

“Oh yeah…na na na nana, Dani Rojas!”

“Hey!” Dani himself popped up on Jamie’s other side, lifting up the bottle of mescal. “You are cheering for me, Jamie Tartt!”

Jamie bypassed the extended bottle and wrapped his arm around Dani’s shoulder. Roy felt the smile slip from his face.

“Roy said your name is pronounced Ro-has, not Ro-jas.”

“Si, Senor!” Dani laughed. “You are not the first person to make this mistake.”

“Sorry, mate! Been calling you that all day.”

“I will forgive you…for another shot,” Dani said and offered the bottle.

“Oh shit, easy!” Jamie laughed and took the bottle.

The face he made while taking a sip made Roy roll his eyes. His mouth was twisted as he offered Roy the bottle.

“Salud!” Dani cried. “Your turn, Capitan.”

Shaking his head, Roy held his hand up to ward away the bottle of mescal. Dani’s smile didn’t dim as he shrugged and if the bottle wasn’t near empty, it would have spilled out the top. He corralled Jamie back to the dancing Greyhounds and Roy chose to drift toward Ted and Beard to listen in on their conversation about horror films. Unsurprisingly, Ted wasn’t a fan but Beard was something of an aficionado which meant that the mustachioed coach was well versed enough to recommend Roy some he would ‘just love’ apparently.

By the end of the night, most of the lads were tipsy including Jamie who somehow had Roy offering to drive him home. Psychic powers from the ghosts, maybe. When Roy turned the keys in the ignition of his jeep and the Disney’s Mulan soundtrack started playing, he immediately shut it off in embarrassment.

“Phoebe likes it—”

“Oh, that’s a classic! Put it back on, put it back on,” Jamie said, “c’mon, Roy!”

He hesitated but did as asked and Jamie started singing along at once. Roy stared with his mouth open, expecting more of the shout singing from earlier but instead Jamie sounded like a fucking pop star. Sam hadn’t been kidding when he was teasing Jamie about being good at singing before. Roy couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Holy fuck, Tartt.”

Jamie only sang louder, shoving one hand out to turn the volume up and plugging an ear with the other one, belting at the top of his lungs. “Who is that girl I see!…”

He was fucking harmonizing with the female vocalist, eyes closed and not paying attention to Roy and Roy’s crisis at all. Roy’s crisis being the situation happening in his pants. This couldn’t stand. He really needed to get laid, fuck. Roy fumbled to turn down the heat in the car and gave his arm a clandestine pinch to divert his focus. It worked for the most part, his trousers were a bit tight the whole way to Jamie’s house which turned out to only be a ten minute drive. It actually wasn’t too far from Roy’s place.

He pulled into the driveway and scanned the cookie cutter house at the end of it. Looked decent enough for a rental. In the passenger seat, Jamie stopped singing and stared at his house.

“Oh.”

As adorable as his pout was, it was confusing. “You good?”

“Oh yeah,” Jamie sounded out. “Just… what are you doing tomorrow?”

Roy tilted his head. “Sleeping in. Why?”

Jamie’s lower lip jutted out further as he fiddled with the material of his jeans at the knee. The next song in the soundtrack came on and Roy jabbed his finger at the power button to turn it off. He was about to open his mouth but then Jamie drew in an abrupt breath.

“D’you want to come i… uh, do you want to come shopping with us tomorrow?” Jamie squinted at his knees like they wronged him.

“Fuck no.”

A smirk lifted the frown on Jamie’s lips and he nodded. “Right.”

He made no effort to get out of the car or even undo his seat belt.

“Okay, what’s with the face?”

Jamie mustered up a half-hearted glare. “You ain’t have to drive so fast, you know.”

Roy blinked and a slow smile came over him. “Are you sulking because you have to stop singing Disney songs now?” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Yeah, mate! Having the time of me life over here, you know.” Roy could only seem to blink, not having expected the full chested honesty. “But what do you care, you’re not being driven ‘round by Roy fucking Kent are you?”

Warmth spread in Roy’s chest and he felt like the Grinch when his heart grew two sizes.

“Well, I am being serenaded by Jamie fucking Tartt so…”

He could see the whites of Jamie’s eyes shift as he looked up and bit his lip to hide a smile. It made Roy lose the plot a bit.

“Seriously, Tartt. You know how people say don’t quit your day job? Well you could fucking quit your day job and fucking launch a singing career. I mean, don’t. I’ll fucking kill you if you quit football but fuuuuuck you’re good. And you’re fucking drunk. What the fuck. You look like that, your right foot was kissed by God, and you have the voice of a fucking angel. I think I really do have to question my faith.”

By the time he was done his rant, Jamie was back to smiling properly. He had a stupid grin on his face and he was slouched leaning toward Roy looking up through his eyelashes.

“You really like me singing?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“How about just one more time?”

“Get the fuck out.”

Jamie snickered and stuck his tongue out before unlatching his seatbelt. Before Roy quite knew what was happening, Jamie leaned over the center console and engulfed him in a hug. His jasmine scented shampoo and woodsy lynx body spray trapped Roy just as much as his arm pinning Roy’s own to his side. The only movement he had was to lift his forearm and pat Jamie’s arm where he could reach, which he did without conscious thought.

“Thanks for the lift,” Jamie said, words muffled by the sleeve of his jacket. The top of his hair was in Roy’s face and brushed his nose.

“You’re welcome,” Roy said, a little strangled.

Jamie’s arm, warm beneath Roy’s hand suddenly locked up, he could feel the muscles going rigid under his fingertips as the silence filling the car was broken by the sound of a phone buzzing. Jamie ripped himself out of Roy’s arms and dug his phone out of his pocket. It was like a stone materialized in his gut as Roy watched Jamie check his phone.

“Oh,” he said, clear relief in his tone. But then. “Oh… it’s me agent.”

Roy frowned at the dash. “At two thirty in the fucking morning?”

Jamie blinked slowly as he thumbed to accept the call and put it on speaker on Roy’s hushed request.

“Uri?”

“Good, you’re awake! What the fuck, Jamie?” Roy narrowed his eyes at Jamie’s phone. “I thought your shoulder wasn’t going to be a problem?”

“What d’you mean? It’s not.”

“Oh, so you’re not fucking benched until God knows when?”

Jamie looked at Roy. “No, I were cleared. Why? What’s goin’ on?”

“You were cleared? Are you drunk? Doesn’t matter. Then why, my dim-witted friend, is Guardiola calling about terminating your loan?”

“What?” Jamie breathed, going pale under the car light.

“What the fuck,” Roy growled.

“Who is that?”

“It’s Roy,” Jamie said, his voice thin and stunned. “Drove me home. I- mescal- what? What do you mean? I can play, I can play, swear down.”

“He said for me to tell you if you can’t play with Richmond you can go back to Manchester. This isn’t a good look for me, Jamie.”

Jamie stared at Roy, something desperate churning in his eyes. Roy could feel that his own eyes were wide. Jamie couldn’t go back to Manchester. Not now. Not when they’d just started to figure out how to be friends, not when Roy hadn’t even gotten to kiss him yet. He inhaled a sharp gasp at his brain misfire. Roy did not want to kiss Jamie Tartt, not now, not ever. He had more important things to panic about now though. Slowly, Roy reached his hand out to grasp Jamie’s phone. When he lifted it and was met with no resistance, he brought it closer to himself.

“Jamie?” His agent asked.

“Uri, is it?” Roy bit out.

“Who’s this? Roy? Roy who?”

“Roy Kent, Jamie’s captain. And I don’t like your fucking tone.”

“Roy Kent? Well,” Uri said, completely losing his condescending manner. “It’s a pleasure to meet—"

“Jamie’s shoulder is fine and he’s going to be playing this weekend. What the fuck seems to be the problem here?”

“Well… well someone from Richmond reached out and informed us that Jamie would be benched for the foreseeable future and—"

“-Who the fuck told you that?”

“A representative from Richmond, a Mr. Higgins. So, it doesn’t have merit then?”

“No, it doesn’t have fucking merit, you—"

“Oh, good then! Guardiola was reluctant too. Said he liked Jamie’s recent improvements.”

“He did?” Jamie asked, finally finding his voice.

“Oi, you’re going to call Higgins back and get to the fucking bottom of this. Jamie is staying right where the fuck he is.”

“Right away, Mr. Kent. Jamie, boy, I’ll call you right back.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Roy threatened and then ended the call.

“I’m going back to Manchester?” Jamie asked. His eyes were huge, staring somewhere out the windshield. His chest rising and falling in short bursts.

“No, no you’re fucking not,” Roy said. He reached out and grabbed Jamie’s shoulder, drawing his eyes to find them panicked. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Jamie gasped, “I thought- I thought Lasso fucking liked me. Why would he want to send me back?” 

“I’ll give him a call,” Roy offered, “Yeah? This doesn’t make any sense. I’m sure there’s a reasonable fucking explanation.”

Jamie nodded and then turned to look out the windshield again. His shoulders fell and he got that thousand-yard stare Roy was learning to hate. It was too quiet as Roy pulled out his phone and rang Ted. When it connected, he put it on speaker for Jamie’s benefit.

“Hey, Roy! You get our boy home safe?”

“Did you initiate a transfer on Jamie’s loan?” Roy barked.

“Pardon?”

“His agent just fucking called him. Said Man City wants him back if he’s going to be benched. Told that fucker it was a fucking mistake and he’s looking into it.”

“Fuck!”

“Whoa,” Jamie uttered.

“Is that Jamie?”

“Yeah, you’re on speaker.”

“Hey, Jamie? I didn’t initiate no transfer, alright. I told them, I told them I had no plans to keep you benched.”

Jamie blinked like his eyelashes weighed two metric tons.

“Told who?” Roy cut in. “What the fuck- oh that’s his agent now. Don’t say a fucking word, Lasso. Jamie is going to answer the call.”

He nodded to Jamie when he didn’t immediately do what he said. The call connected and Uri’s oily voice slithered out of the phone.

“Hey Jamie, Mr. Kent. So, it seems like a miscommunication. Mr. Higgins is very sorry and clarified it was a mistake. Apparently, there was a missed medical report. Tight ship over there at Richmond, you sure you want to stay? Ha, I’m joking!”

“So… so I’m—”

“You’re staying put. Three months on your loan yet.”

“I’m not going back to Manchester,” Jamie said.

“Not until the season is over anyway. Alright, any questions can wait till morning. That was fucking dramatic, wasn’t it?”

The call ended abruptly and it was quiet until Jamie let out an emphatic sigh and let his head fall back.

“What the fuck happened, Lasso?” Roy demanded.

Ted’s intake of breath crackled over the line but he didn’t answer right away. “I think some wires got crossed in a real serious way.”

“So, you don’t wanna get rid of me?” Jamie challenged. He was glaring blue daggers at Roy’s phone.

“Aw, heck no! We just got this show on the road. In fact I never want to let you go. How about we tear that loan of yours up and you can stay right here at Richmond? I think that’s the best idea I’ve had all day and we just exorcised four hundred ghosts!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Roy said.

“Aw, well it should. I can’t imagine being here at Richmond without you, Jamie. You’re such a doggonned light and I’m just in awe of how far you’ve come in a few short weeks. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the confusion but I promise you I’m going to look into it, you hear me?”

Jamie looked lost for a second before he crossed his arms tightly over his chest and scowled. Roy, knowing exactly what kind of words would be following a face like that, spoke up quickly.

“Bye, Ted.”

“Oh, wai—”

Roy ended the call just as Jamie opened his mouth. He huffed and then turned his unhappy look on Roy.

“Can you believe him? Trying to get rid of me! What kind of—”

“Stop,” Roy said, “take a breath.”

He wasn’t yelling but he made sure his tone was stern. Jamie grunted but inhaled through his nose and angrily exhaled through his mouth. A plume of warmth flashed in Roy’s gut at the speed Jamie did as he was told and his voice came out a bit rough.

“I don’t think it was Lasso, no shut up and listen. I was in his office and the report clearing you for training was right there, see?” Jamie’s face slowly became less mulish as he listened. “He was banging on about how proud he was of you like he always fucking does. It was sick. It sounds like a stupid mistake, Tartt. Why would anyone want to get rid of you on purpose? It would fuck us over and we’d get relegated. We fucking need you.”

“But how could he have missed the report, I gave it to Beard. Unless, unless- wait. You need- you think Richmond needs me?”

It was because the smile on Jamie’s lips was small that Roy sighed, braced himself, and continued in a not soft, but less gruff voice. “Yeah, Jamie. I fucking know it.”

He was rewarded with a bright grin from Jamie that showed all his teeth and crinkled his eyes. 

“Guess we can’t be rid of you that easy,” Roy huffed.

“Ah, you’re stuck with me, Grandad. Going to take more than a mistake to get rid of Jamie Tartt!”

“That’s better.”

“Huh?”

“Alright, get out. And make sure you drink water before going to sleep.”

“You don’t want to come in? I ain’t tired yet. We can play Fifa.” His brow was wrinkled and his lips construed in a perfect pout. For the life of him, Roy couldn’t think of a single reason not to. When he frowned at the realization, Jamie beamed and launched himself out of the car. Rolling his eyes, Roy turned the car off and stepped onto Jamie’s driveway feeling a stirring of doubt. Then Jamie beckoned him forward with a bright smile on his face and it was so much better than the gutted look he had during the phone call with his agent, that Roy found himself following him. He’d just make sure Jamie got in the door safe. The line Jamie was walking to his front door staggered enough to the sides for Roy to ready himself to catch him if he stumbled.

“Uh hey,” Jamie said when they got to the front door. “Thanks for being on that call with me. Fucking mad.”

“Mm.”

Roy watched Jamie pull out his keys and study them with his tongue poking through his teeth. There were only four keys on the ring along with a plastic Man City logo.

“You should get a new agent,” he said as his eyes drifted down. The porch light caught on Jamie’s lips and glistened where his tongue was pressing on the pink flesh. Heat burst across Roy’s neck and he looked away at the stake lights lining the ground along the driveway. Beside the border of hedges, the smooth stone was bathed in light except for a spot that looked like an oil stain next to Roy’s black G-wagon.

“Why? Uri’s great. You should see the suits he wears. Shit.”

The sound of metal hitting stone brought Roy’s attention back around to see Jamie picking his keys up off the floor.

“I don’t like how he talks to you.”

Jamie waved his hand. “Ah that’s just Uri. He looks out for me.”

“That’s his fucking job. He doesn’t need to talk to you like you’re some kind of idiot,” Roy growled.

“Well, I dunno… there!” Jamie finally got the door open and marched inside. “He’s smart about things I’ve no idea about. He’s always on me saying I’m like his most stupid son. He likes me.”

“Right. You’re going to use my agent.”

“I don’t want your agent,” Jamie said while carefully pulling off his shoes. He was tilting to the side so Roy rolled his eyes and stood so Jamie could lean on him and not hit his head on the giant metal balloon dog statue. It looked like the only thing Jamie actually owned in his house.

“It’s settled. You’ll get a call tomorrow.” Roy looked around at the entry way, all white walls and floors giving the place a sterile feel. The artwork and modern décor looked staged. There was even a tall vase with ugly, spindly red sticks beside the light wood staircase.

Jamie straightened back up and stepped around Roy with socked feet. He started unzipping his black jacket. “You’re going senile, aren’t you? I just said- fuck! Ow, fuck.” He hunched forward and held his right arm above the elbow in a tight grip.

“What, is it your shoulder?” Roy asked. “Let me help.”

Jamie slapped his hand away when Roy stepped around him and reached for his jacket. “I can do it. It’s fine. Shouldn’t have danced with the lads is all.” It took a second for Roy to recognize the low growl rumbling in the space between them was coming from his own chest. Jamie blinked at him and gulped like a cartoon character and deflated like one too. “Sorry.”

Roy offered a grunt as he circled Jamie. This time when he went to reach for his jacket, Roy was met with no resistance. He eased the fabric off Jamie’s shoulders and then hung it up on the hooks beside the front door. As his back was turned, Jamie’s voice rang out quietly. “Thanks, Roy.”

When he turned back, Jamie was smirking at him but his eyes were sad. Standing there in a loose teal t-shirt, tight jeans, and socked feet, he looked like he didn’t belong in his own skin. Roy had no idea what to make of it. An urge came over him then. Familiar and unfamiliar, he wanted to punch him in the face didn’t he?  Wipe that fake smirk right off him. Or kiss him on the mouth. Cup Jamie’s face in his hands, feel his soft lips with his own until he was smiling properly. He wanted to push him against the door and run his hands through his jasmine scented hair and taste inside his mouth. Roy wanted him.

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

“Fuck!”

Jamie jumped and had the gall to look confused instead of worried. Roy needed to get out of here. He was two seconds away from decking him if he didn’t. Needed to go through the front door, yeah, right against the door there and grab two full handfuls of Jamie’s round arse, kiss the bruise on his shoulder, then kneel to do the same on his still scraped knee, and then pull his jeans down his hips and really make him feel good.

Fuck.

“You forget something?” Jamie looked amused now, that lost look in his blue eyes replaced with an impish one like he found Roy amusing. Jamie’s lips were quirked upward, looking soft like velvet, just asking for Roy to open them with his own lips before sinking into the wet heat of his tongue.

“Yeah, bye,” Roy choked out. He turned on his heel and fled.

“You’re going senile!” Jamie called just before Roy slammed his car door shut.

Roy peeled out the driveway, holding up his middle finger which only made Jamie laugh. Lit by the light in the entry way, he looked beautiful. Oh, Roy was so fucked. So fucking fucked. No. No, he was better than this. He knew how to want a man in secret. This would blow over. It was just a little crush. Fuck, he had a crush on Jamie. Jamie Tartt. He, Roy Kent, had a crush on Jamie Fucking Tartt.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccck,” Roy groaned. He didn’t know how this could happen to him. Roy took a steadying breath as his foot pressed down on the gas peddle. Roy had crushes on men before. He could handle this one too. Only, he wouldn’t be able to fuck Jamie senseless and get it out of his system like usual. Roy’s eyes almost rolled into the back of his head at the thought of burying his cock in Jamie’s arse and he almost missed a stop sign. He threw his head back to knock it against the headrest, but it didn’t distract from the tension in his pants. He was straining hard against the zipper all the way back to his house. All he wanted was one fantastic wank but no, Roy was disciplined. He took an ice-cold shower instead and it did the trick in taking the urgency out of Roy’s prick.

Once in bed, Roy debated the merits of visiting his friend’s club in Soho. It had been a while since he had been there. It was discreet, welcome to all genders, and had private rooms that made it easy to sneak someone in and out of. But the thought of going there because of Jamie Tartt made him scowl. There was no way. He wasn’t that affected by Jamie Tartt. Not him. Roy tried convincing himself that it was only a bout of insanity and it would be gone by morning. He forced himself to meditate by going over their last match. Casting his thoughts to the pitch, to his playing, never failed to calm him. But it turned out to be his undoing. He was remembering the goal he scored last match from Jamie’s pass and the rush of it. Jamie had jumped into his arms and locked his legs around Roy’s waist. Wrapped his gorgeous thighs right around him.

“Fuck,” Roy hissed. His pants strained upward as his cock filled.

Beamed at Roy with that smile of his and his stuck out that fucking tongue when someone pulled him off Roy. Roy had always hated that face he made. Fuck, he never should have let Jamie get pulled away. Should have spun them around and made Jamie cling to him tighter. Get closer to that fucking stupid face with his pink tongue out just begging for Roy to capture it in his mouth. His breath hitched as he delved beneath his pants and took himself in hand. Roy groaned, imagining how he could hold Jamie up by his thighs, press him against a wall so they could slot right against each other and Jamie could run his hands through his hair, crane his neck down, and kiss him desperately. Roy was so hard and his hand felt so good but he made himself slow down. He’d set Jamie down on something, his bed would be perfect, rub his hands up the bottoms of Jamie’s thighs, feel the curve his arse cheeks spread around Roy’s waist and pull him closer.

“Fuck,” Roy groaned, “fuck.”

He’d make Jamie blush. Roll his hips and rub their cocks together, sneak his hands inside his shorts, past his pants, feel his skin, and then the pucker of his hole. He’d start by dragging his finger in tight circles- fuck, he wondered if Jamie had ever been finger fucked before. He’d bet anything that he hadn’t, Roy was sure of it.

Keeley must have though. There was no way she hadn’t. He pumped his fist faster along his shaft, imagining Keeley working Jamie open and Roy felt himself grow harder and harder. He’d bet that he could take them both apart so well. Make them moan, and oh that was a sweet thought. They would look perfect laying naked next to each other.

Roy was so close.

Jamie’s thighs would be clinging around his hips and Roy would sink himself into his arse slowly and Keeley, with her tits out and Roy plunging his fingers into her cunt spread for him to see, would be crying his name.

Then when he had Keeley coming on his fingers, he would rock his hips faster, drive Jamie wild and then make him come with Roy’s tongue down his throat, split open on his cock, and crying out into his mouth. A low grunt rumbled out Roy’s mouth as he came harder than he had in ages. Hot ropes of cum spurt up onto his abs and he rode it out until he was dry. Then he lay there with his chest heaving, out of breath and stunned.

“Fuck.”

His breathing was loud in the quiet darkness of his room. Well, he had almost made it the whole night through without wanking.