Archive of Our Own ^beta

So, he’s standing there - stock still - staring ahead and not really focusing on anything. It’s like something in Jamie finally snapped after years and years of abuse from his father, and he’s still recoiling from what he just did, but all he can manage to do is stay upright, in front of everyone, and try to breathe.

He’s been trying to be better. Really, he has. Passing the fucking ball, being there for his teammates, apologising - even just earlier with admitting he messed up. Taking accountability. Jamie has decided that it feels better to be a better person. Sure, he’s still a prick, but maybe not as much of a prick as before. And now he’s just gone and punched his father square in the jaw.

He waits for the shoe to drop.

Roy’s walking toward him now. Jaw clenched and brow furrowed. Really just his usual expression, but there’s something in his eyes that’s severe. Jamie’s halfway to flinching back from him when Roy’s arms come up and pull him into a firm hug.

The breath he lets out is wretched, and he takes a second to just process what’s happening.

Then his hands come up on their own violation to grasp at Roy’s back. He starts to cry. Sobs more like it. The room remains eerily silent and he tries to breathe gently, but fails as it catches between tears.

“You’re alright, Jamie.” Roy says, just loud enough for only him to hear.

Somehow, he gets home that night. Must’ve driven himself, but he doesn’t really even process where he is until he’s walking up to his flat on auto-pilot. When he gets his keys out of his pockets he rolls his eyes at how shaky he is. He takes three tries to get the key in the hole before he opens it. Jamie turns the deadbolt as soon as the door clicks behind him.

He drops his duffel in the threshold, and toes out of his trainers. Looking down, he realizes he’s still in his kit. Jamie doesn’t even hesitate before he walks to the bathroom.

He starts running the water to let it get warm and strips out of his clothes. When he gets in, his shoulders relax a fraction as the water cascades down his back. His headband is still on and he peels it off before lathering his hair with apple scented shampoo. Jamie barely basks in it before rinsing and putting the same brand of conditioner in his hair. His body wash smells like sea salt and cedar, and he scrubs it into his skin so hard his flesh turns pink.

When Jamie's done he turns off the shower head and grabs a towel to dry his hair and wrap around his waist. He leaves his dirty clothes on the floor and heads to his room to put on something clean. He's got on a pair of joggers when the doorbell goes off and almost makes him jump.

The first thought he thinks is that his father has come around to teach him a lesson, but when the bell rings a few more times he knows his dad would bother putting in this much effort. At least not without a few vicious words thrown his way.

So, Jamie pads his way over to the door, towel still on his shoulders, and unlocks it. He opens it a crack and falters and who he sees.

"You just going to keep us out in the cold?" Dani says, a small smile on his face. Colin and Sam are behind him holding packs of beer and snacks.

Jamie blinks a few times. He snaps out of it when he feels a drop of water dribble down his front. "Isn't even that cold." He says as lightly as he can muster, and steps out of the way for the other men to come inside.

"Have ya' got room in your fridge?" Colin asks, toeing off his shoes and walking into the kitchen. He doesn't wait for a response and opens it to reveal mostly empty shelves. "Guess so," he says.

"We've brought some controllers as well," Sam says, "so we don't have to take turns."

Jamie must look confused, because Dani clarifies, "for FIFA." He grins.

Jamie tries to smile, "Right." He says. His voice sounds like rubbish, and he rubs his neck.

Sam and Dani head into the living room leaving Jamie and Colin behind. The latter is rummaging around his cupboards.

"Uh," Jamie says, "can I help you, mate?"

Colin turns his head to look at him, "Tea?" He asks.

Jamie points, "One to the left."

Colin shifts over to another cabinet and picks the tin of tea he finds to his liking. The kettle is on the stove like always, and Colin fills it with water and turns on the burner. Jamie feels stupid just standing there so he walks to where the mugs are and reaches to grab two.

"Thanks," Colin says. It's soft, and Jamie realizes he's kind of crowded himself into Colin's personal space. He still hasn't got a shirt on and his hair is a bit wet. Colin glances at him for a second, then adverts his gaze again. The Welshman taps his fingers on the counter. Jamie pulls the towel up on his head and ruffles it a bit to dry.

"I'm gonna go put something on," Jamie gestures, "I'll be right back."

Colin clears his throat, "Okay."

In his room Jaimie grabs the first crewneck he finds and throws it on. On his way back to the kitchen he puts his towel in the bathroom to dry and tosses his kit in the hamper.

Colin looks at him when he comes back. Jamie watches as he blinks a few times, and before Jamie can make some comment the kettle whistles. Abruptly, Colin turns and pours the hot water over the tea bags.

"You two coming?" Sam yells from the other room.

"Right, just a second!" Colin hollers back. He glances at Jamie, "Want anything in it?" Jamie just shrugs, so Colin takes a cube of sugar for each of them and stirs the cups until it dissolves.

"Tea always makes me feel better after a good cry," Colin says. It's in such a way that Jamie doesn't even think to be offended by the insinuation. Colin looks like his brain has caught up with what he said and is preparing for a smart retort as a response, but Jamie just nods once.

"It was Dani's idea to come over," Colin tries, "said you shouldn't be alone, that he wouldn't want to be." The tea steeps in front of them. Jamie can't gain the courage to meet his gaze. "Sam heard him and said he'd come. Kinda felt like I had to at that point - no offense." He's quick to add. Jamie lets out a soft laugh at that.

"'S just… My father is a right twat as well so I dunno how much help I’d even be." He shrugs and takes out the tea sachets. He tosses them in the bin. "I just felt like someone should tell you that what you did was pretty brave."

With that, Colin picks up his mug and leaves the kitchen to meet the others. Jamie follows after a second, the palms of his hands covered in a bright pink jumper, and he cradles his cup like he's scared he might burn.

None of them really talk about it. The closest they came was him and Colin when they first arrived. But after hours of FIFA and his belly full of tea and beer, Jamie's starting to feel at least fifty percent better. He'll count that as a win.

"It's late, we should probably get going." Sam says. He's right, it's almost 10, well into the evening for a footballer, and they'd have to call an Uber to get them back to their places. Sam pulls out his phone to do just that, "I'll have them pick us up at the corner." Sam says. Jamie appreciates the confidentiality.

Dani groans something about not wanting to leave as he disconnects the controllers and begins to clean up some trash. "We should do this more often." He assesses. They all hum in agreement. Colin escapes out the room to use the loo.

"I really appreciate it." Jamie admits, "What you've all done I mean. Means a lot." He can't meet their pair of looks, but he feels himself pulled into another brief hug, squished from both sides.

"Football is life," Dani says softly, "and you should not let one person ruin that."

Sam smiles, "Jamie Tartt, you are an absolute twat," he laughs at Jamie's mildly offended look, "but you're our twat."

The three break apart and Sam hits Jamie in the shoulder gently. “Alright then,” Sam turns to Dani, “ready to go?” Dani nods.

The two stumble to get their shoes on and head out the door, “Goodbye friend!” Dani yells from a few feet away. Jamie finds himself genuinely smiling. He waves.

He’s turned around and locked the door when all the sudden he hears the toilet flush. Colin Jamie opens the door again, hoping to catch the other two, but all he sees is a blue honda pull away from the end of the road. He comes back in just as Colin enters the main hall.

“Fraid they’ve left.” Jamie tells him.

Colin laughs, fake annoyance laces his voice when he says “‘Course they have.” He takes it upon himself to turn to the kitchen and sit at an island stool. Jamie follows.

Colin pulls out his phone and frowns, "it's dead." He remarks.

Jamie smiles a little at the dumbfounded look on Colin's face, "You can use mine if you'd like." Jamie suggests. He's not really sure where he's left it now that he thinks about it.

"That'd be great," Colin says, "can I borrow a charger for a few minutes as well?"

Jamie nods, "I'll be right back."

In his room he finds his cellphone on his bedside table, charging, and he unplugs the cord from the wall and brings both back for Colin to use.

"Thanks." Colin says. Jamie watches him unplug the toaster to plug in his phone, then he taps around on the screen for a minute or two. "Okay. Should be here in, like, fifteen."

"Dani was pretty far gone." Jamie notes.

Colin laughs, "Yeah, I don't think I've seen him like that before."

It's quiet for a beat.

"Jamie," Colin murmurs, "are you going to be alright tonight?" He sits back on one of the stools next to him.

Jamie swallows around a lump in his throat. He shrugs and busies himself with picking at his fingers. "Probably." He says.

Colin hums. "You know you don't have to be alone, yeah?"

Jamie falters at this, pulls a piece of skin he doesn't mean to, and hisses lightly. "Christ," he says, "you just say whatever you want when you're pissed?" He puts the finger up to his mouth to soothe it.

Colin grins, toothy, "Been known to, yeah." He sighs, turning towards Jamie so quick their knees hit. "You're a good guy, Jamie. No dickish bravado could fool me otherwise. I could stay, spend the night on the couch - which is way too comfortable by the way - and if you needed to just have someone here, I really don't mind being that person."

There's a pause, "Unless you'd like someone else to be here, I could ring them for you-"

"No." Jamie cuts off his rambling, "the sofa pulls out. If you really don't mind-"

Colin cuts him off this time, "Don't mind at all."

So that settles it.

"You probably want to cancel that ride then." Jamie suggests.

Colin grins, "Never ordered one." Jamie raises a brow, "Your fridge was pretty empty so I got some Chinese food from down the way. Should be here in ten if you want to help with the bed and stuff."

Jamie doesn't know what the look on his face is, but Colin seems to grow pink at whatever he sees.

"C'mon then." Jamie says, leading the way back to the living room.

By the time the food is there the bed is made and Colin's in the shower. Jamie had set out a pair of black joggers like his own and a grey Richmond hoodie for him.

The doorbell rings and Jamie gives the driver a generous tip. He's starting to sober up a little, and he takes the food into the kitchen to unpack it from the bags. There's far too much for two people at this hour. From the cabinets he grabs a set of forks and plates. He doesn't try to convince himself he's coherent enough for chopsticks.

Colin makes his way to meet Jamie where he's standing. He looks at the cartons in front of him, "Might've over done it."

Jamie notices how the other man smells like him. "Maybe just a bit, yeah."

They pile their plates with rice, noodles, chicken, and vegetables, and sit right at the island.

Jamie moans around a mouthful, "I don't think food has ever tasted this good."

Colin chokes a little and Jamie hits his back, "You alright, Hughes?" He asks, concerned.

Colin nods, flushed, "Lo mein," he coughs, "down the wrong pipe." He reaches for his water and takes a long sip.

Jamie continues to devour his food. They mostly eat in silence, making an odd comment here or there about how good the dishes are. That is until both are too stuffed to continue. Jamie collects the dishes and puts them in the dishwasher.

They're about to head their separate ways in the hall when Jamie says a simple "Thank you." He can tell Colin knows he means it for more than just the food.

When Jamie wakes up, it's with a start. He feels an unnecessary bolt of anxiety at the time on his phone: 9:14am. There's no club training today, but it still feels wrong somehow to have slept in so much.

He changes into a plain vest and grey trackies, then goes to the loo. While inside he brushes his teeth. It isn't until he's walking down the hall to get some morning tea that he remembered Colin had spent the night. Jamie had passed out in bed and not even stirred until he woke. He hears noise coming from the living room.

"Oh, hey, Jamie." Colin says, chipper and pleased. He's sitting on the made mattress watching a rerun of Bake Off. He has a plate with scones and preserves, a mug of tea on his side and another sitting on the end table. "Made you a cup, helped myself to some breakfast if ya don't mind." He sheepishly amits.

"No not at all," Jamie says. It comes out softer than he means to and he mentally reprimands himself for it. On screen they're making pastries. Jamie takes a sip from his mug, his eyes widen, "That's some good fucking brew, that." He looks over at Colin.

Colin's eyes Crinkle from his smile, "Yeah?" He asks. Jamie nods. "Well, I went a bit more elaborate because nobody was rushing us this time."

Jamie takes another sip. There's milk, sugar, and something that tastes like cinnamon. Did he even own cinnamon?

"Sleep well then?" Colin asks.

Jamie nods, he takes a bite of a scone with strawberry preserves on it. "Like a sexy baby." Jamie says through a mouthful of food.

Colin laughs, "Good."

The morning goes on like this, watching television and drinking tea, until eventually it's almost noon.

"I should probably get out of your hair." Colin says after the third episode.

Jamie frowns, but he gets it. A prolonged sleepover after a drunken night can only go so far. "Alright."

"Unless you want me to stay longer-" Colin tries to add.

Jamie smiles. They're close on the sleeper sofa, and he lets his shoulder bump into the other man. "I'm good, Hughes." He looks over at Colin, "Thank you though."

Colin fidgets with the cuffs of his jumper, "'Course."

Jamie watches Colin make his way out of his flat. A big number nine and 'TARTT' on his back getting smaller as he gets into his obnoxious Lamborghini.

Jamie doesn’t ask for the piece of clothing back and Colin doesn't offer it.

"Alright, listen up!" Coach Lasso hollers, after blowing his whistle. "We're gonna break up into two groups today: reserve team with Nate and Beard, first with me and Roy." He whistles again and the teams spread out to opposite ends of the pitch.

"Right, shit heads," Roy grunts, "today we're going to start out with some passing drills since you can't seem to fucking connect with one another." He says, pointedly looking at Jan Maas and Bumbercatch.

The players line up in two lines, about five feet between each player. First, the balls start on the same end, the players being instructed to pass diagonally across from them. This round goes smooth enough, so Roy switches it up, having the balls start from opposite ends.

It's the third time in a row that the footballs have hit each other in the middle of the pack, smacking each other and sputtering out into skewed directions, when Roy has clearly had enough.

"Whistle!" He yells, Jamie freezes and they all look over at him, "run a lap for each time you shit the bed."

They all groan, and begin to jog to the side of the pitch. They run around it three times. Each time around they get light jeering remarks from their other teammates. When they return, slightly winded, Ted's the one to greet them this time.

"Boys, I must say, you all seem pretty out of it today," he glances at Roy, then back to the group, "so how's about we do a good 'ol game of keepaway?"

The group has a mixed reaction. Some groans and some smiles. Jamie can't muster a feeling one way or the other.

"Tartt and Obisanya, you're up first." Roy says, followed by a loud, "Whistle."

Sam smiles at Jamie when they enter the circle of players together.

"I'm going to destroy you Jamie Tartt." He taunts.

Jamie smiles a little at that, "Wouldn't be too sure about that." He jokes back.

Isaac has the ball first. He passes cleanly to Dani, and Dani, off the pass, sends it over to Colin. Colin grins as the two of them try to intercept the ball, but he's smooth with it. Hughes sends the ball over to Richard off an outside roll.

The play goes on like this for a minute or two, when suddenly the ball hits high on Isaac's thigh. Before he can trap it, Sam snags it. He sends a gloating smile back at Jamie, who takes it in stride.

"Shit." Isaac groans while walking to the center of the circle. Coach Lasso blows his whistle and they start again.

It's about three minutes of passes before Isaac uses his bigger frame to edge Jamie out of getting the ball. He grins victoriously. Jamie rolls his shoulders. He's not about to let himself lose a third time, and when Jan Maas enters that feeling amplifies.

Bluntly, the man tells him, "You are not very good at this."

Jamie's mouth falls open, but no words come out.

The ball flies sharply between players. Sam does some fancy footwork just to toy with them, and sends it over to Moe. Moe gets rid of it off the pass and it lands right at Colin's feet.

Jamie knows this is his chance. He's right in front of him and all he needs to do is extend his leg and-

Suddenly Jamie's falling.

Jan Maas, that prick, must've run into him, because he's going face first into Colin. The other man's eyes widen in slow motion. Jamie puts his arms out to try and brace them, but they're tangled up and can't gain their footing. Jamie reaches his hand around the back of Colin's head so it doesn't get whiplash on the pitch, and when they land it's with a soft thump.

Colin blinks a few times, then he smiles.

"What're you grinning for?" Jamie asks, slightly annoyed, but mostly confused. Their knees hit against each other and they're lucky they had their shin guards because of their boots.

Colin tries to wipe the look off his face and fails. "Jan Maas got the ball." He says. It's breathy and quiet because of their proximity.

Jamie swallows. His hand is still wrapped around the base of Colin's neck and he releases it quickly. He's bracing himself on his palms which are placed on either side of Colin's head. He blinks down at him. Colin's hair is messy from the fall and sweat. There's a small fleck of green among it.

"What?" Colin asks.

Jamie clears his throat, "Got some grass in your hair." He quickly explains.

Colin reaches up and tries to shake it loose, "Did I get it?" He asks.

Jamie shakes his head. "Here." He says. With his right hand he gently pulls a few pieces from his hair.

Colin's got a soft look on his face when he says, "Cheers."

Jamie opens his mouth to respond.

"You two break your fucking legs?" Roy yells from several feet away. Jamie feels his cheeks heat.

"No." He yells back, like Roy's a moron.

"Then get the fuck up!" He shouts.

Colin only laughs. They untangle from their collision and get back to the drill.

Jamie gets the next ball and makes sure he doesn't get put back in the center the rest of the day.

Jamie's the last one in the room after training.

His limbs feel clunky and slow, and it's not from the fall. His mind is racing from the last time he was in a room like this.

Jamie picks at the bench beneath him. His leg is bouncing.

"Jamie?", comes a drawling voice. Ted.

Jamie stops his movement and looks up at the man, "Sorry, coach." Shit, how long has he been here?

Ted raises a brow. "Nothing to be sorry for Jamie. I actually was hoping I'd run into ya'." He sits down next to him on the bench, "What happened last game, er, match, well, that was just unacceptable. Nobody, and I mean nobody, on our team deserves to be talked to like that. Not from anyone. You hear me?"

Jamie swallows hard.

"And I want to apologize to you for freezing up. You see… me and my father, well, I have a complicated relationship with the man. So I wasn't sure what to do. I should've been there for you, and I'm sorry about that."

"Coach, you don't have t'a-"

"No, Jamie," Ted places a gentle hand on his shoulder, "I'm your coach. It's my responsibility that you're safe and taken care of when you're in this facility. I'm sorry." He apologizes again.

Jamie closes his eyes to fend off any tears.

A "Thank you." Is all he can manage in return.

It's been about 72 hours since the game against Man City when there's an undeniable pounding on his front door. Jamie’s stomach drops.

"Open the fuck up, Jamie!" His father yells. The sound pierces through him like he's been shot. He doesn't open the door.

Another hammering of knocks come rattling. He's never been more glad for his habit of locking both the deadbolt and the knob more than at this moment.

A burling scoff comes from outside, "Too much of a pussy to come face me?" Asks the man. His voice sounds slurred. Drunk.

Jamie doesn't move.

After ten minutes of being berated through a door Jamie is finally met with silence. He chances a look out the peephole and doesn't see a car, coach, or anyone outside.

He doesn't even think before pulling out his phone and dialing for Colin.

"Alright, how's it going, alright?" comes the voice.

Jamie swallows, "Can you come over?" He asks. He's glad when his voice sounds mostly normal.

"Oh," Colin sounds surprised, "I'm actually - well I- ," he sputters.

Jamie curses himself, "Right, it's okay, like, if ya don't want to, or-"

"No," Colin cuts him off, "It's just that, well, I'm watching my sister's dog, so, would it be okay like if you came over here instead?"

A weight lifts off of him.

"I'm still in my old flat so I'll let you in when you're here, yeah?" Colin says. He sounds upbeat as usual.

"Yeah."

Jamie gets there in maybe ten minutes. He walks up the stoop and uses the knocker three times to alert Colin of his presence. He hears a chant of muffled barks echo through the door.

"Alright, alright!" He hears Colin scold the dog, the door unlatches and a small white and orange blur jumps on Jamie's legs.

"Oof-" Jamie says, surprised, "who's this then?" He asks. His voice pitches up a bit and he scratches behind the corgi's ear.

Colin smiles, "Polly Hughes, this is Jamie Tartt. Jamie, this is Polly." He introduces them.

Jamie crouches and lets Polly lick the side of his face. He scrunches his nose and stands back up.

Colin's smile falls a bit, "You alright?"

"Erhm, well," Jamie kicks his foot into the landing, "can I come in?" He asks.

"Oh, right, sorry," Colin steps out of the and sends Jamie a gentle look, "Not used to hosting people." He admits. Polly scurried in after them. Colin latches the door.

On instinct, Jamie follows Colin.

"Made you some tea again while you were on your way over. Remembered how you liked it." He says, handing Jamie the cup of warmth. He sips it, and finds it to be the perfect temperature. He takes a larger gulp.

"You want to talk about it?" Colin asks. They're standing in his kitchen. It's a bistro style, and so contradictory to Colin's sleek car and modern clothes, that Jamie thinks it should feel out of place. It doesn't.

"My dad came over." He admits. All he can do is look at his own reflection in his mug.

"I'll fucking kill him." Colin says, matter-of-fact.

It startles Jamie out of his trance, and he looks up at the man.

"I'm serious," Colin says. He only sounds like he's half joking, "Christ, Jamie, after what he said to you?"

Jamie swallows, "Right, well, I didn't let him in my flat then, did I?" He asks rhetorically.

"Good."

Jamie sets his tea down and sits on the wooden floors. He lets Polly crawl into his lap and soothingly rubs her head, "Kinda wish I did just to tell him I wish I'd never see him again," Jamie looks up, "is that an awful thing to say?"

Colin himself sits down, cross-legged, he hums, "Definitely not." Colin tilts his head in thought, "don't think I've voluntarily spoken to my tad since I turned sixteen," he leans back on an arm, "my mam is the best though."

"Yeah, my mum's pretty great too," Jamie scratches Polly's belly, "Haven't spoken to her for a bit though, have I?" He confesses.

Colin hums for him to continue.

"Haven't wanted to talk to anyone 'bout anything, really." He shrugs. Some part of him recognizes the irony in that. That he can't seem to be honest with anyone, but he's here spilling his guts to a teammate.

"Yet, you're here?" Colin prods.

"Guess it's different with you," Jamie says. When he looks up, Colin is just staring at him, "Don't have to be nervous or worry if I say something that makes me sound like a prick."

Colin rolls his eyes, but in a way Jamie knows isn't serious. He finds his throat relaxes enough that it no longer feels like he's swallowing a sob.

"This dog is fucking therapeutic or somethin'." Jamie determines.

"Nah," Colin grins, "just Welsh."

Later that evening, Jamie walks down the way to get some takeaway from a local kebab restaurant. He's got the container in one hand and his cellphone in the other. His airpods are in and he's listening to a pair of nasally Americans talk about some film he's never seen before, really just white noise.

A football comes rolling to his feet at the second to last block home and he stares at it for a second. When he finds the owner, he gives her a kind smile.

She's young, probably in late primary school, and she's looking at Jamie like he's hung the moon. He takes out an earbud and puts it loose in his pocket. "This yours?" He asks.

She nods.

Jamie kicks it over to her, gentle with the inside of his foot, and watches her absolutely pull off an insane dribble.

"Very impressive," he compliments.

She grins, "Thank you."

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Caroline," she says, "promise I'm not like that creepy clay girl with button eyes though."

Jamie laughs, "I can tell. She's not as good at football as you." He looks over at the patch of green where a few of her friends seem to be aghast by his presence, "you take it easy on them, yeah?"

She rapidly nods.

"Good girl." He says and gives her a small wave goodbye. He hears her running and yelling to her friends as he turns the corner to his street.

When he's done with his food he tosses the container into the bin and tries not to think about how much he misses his mum. How he wishes he'd just call her but he doesn't know where to start. He doesn't want to disappoint her.

That night in bed Jamie absently runs his hand through his hair. Colin’s was softer, he thinks. He wonders what shampoo he uses, then remembers the time he spent the night and used Jamie’s. How that felt right. He shakes his head.

He reaches for his phone and texts Colin a simple "Thanks for today."

It chimes a minute later with, "anytime :)"

Jamie closes his eyes and wishes for sleep.

Jamie, on principle, doesn't do funerals.

But it’s for Ms. Welton - well, not for Ms. Welton. For her dad. - and the whole team is going to be there, so he thinks he can manage it. Except when he walks in his clothes feel too tight, his shoes pinch uncomfortably (though not as bad as Dani's), and the church smells like stale incense.

Basically, he’s fucking uncomfortable.

Then the service is over and they’re headed to Rebecca’s childhood home. Which, honestly, is somewhere he never thought he’d be.

The house is really nice, and to be honest he’s not sure what’s eating at him, but all he can do is shift from teammate to teammate making small talk and eating hors d'oeuvres with a glass of mulled wine. A voice in the back of Jamie's mind reminds him that really shouldn’t be drinking while he’s anxious like this, but he needs something to take the edge off.

With peace and love to Mrs. Welton’s father, he's fucking haunting. Like, all Jamie keeps thinking about is how lifeless he is just sitting in a box and how he's going to be buried under some dirt and Jamie hasn't really thought about death like this before. His fucking morality or whatever it's called.

And anyways, when did it get so bleeding hot in here?

Jamie exits the room and heads up the stairs to the second floor. He unbuttons his jacket as he climbs.

He's reached the landing and finds an open door. It looks like it leads to a study, and he figures there'd be somewhere to sit in there. Maybe take a nap if he's lucky. He closes the door behind him. He jumps when he hears a sniffle.

"Christ, Hughes!"

"Sorry." Colin says. His eyes are watery and he's got his dorky hat clutched in his hands. Knuckles white.

Jamie's brows furrow. "Don't meant to sound, like, insensitive, but I didn't know you were that close with Ms. Welton's dad, mate."

Colin lets out a surprised chuckle, "Don't think I ever met the poor guy." He admits.

Jamie frowns. "Then what's got you so worked up?" He asks, as if he wasn't trying to find somewhere to calm down himself. It's always easier to deflect. He tries to remind himself he doesn't have to with Colin.

Colin sighs. He sets his hat down on the floor and braces his palms on his thighs. "Might be having a bit of a crisis."

Jamie sits next to him on the brown chesterfield. He doesn't really know how to do this. To comfort someone.

"What d'ya mean?" He tries.

"Like," Colin sputters, "what if I died tomorrow and nobody here knew who I was." His accent is coming out thick and Jamie is surprised at how much he finds it suits him.

He frowns, "Col, that's not true. We know you."

"No," Colin raises a finger, he stands, "the team knows me, fine. But they just- they don't…" he swallows.

Jamie realizes, suddenly, that this is very serious. "Come off it," he guides Colin to sit back down on the firm leather, "breathe, yeah?"

Colin struggles to steady his breath. Jamie reaches forward, slow, and unbuttons Colin's waistcoat. The black and white pattern opens and Jamie reaches to place his hand on his center. He takes Colin's hand and guides it to the same place on his own torso.

"Try and match me." He whispers. Colin's not looking at him. Just staring at his hand on Jamie's stomach. He breathes in, then out. He counts to nine on both, then repeats it again, and again, until Colin's breathing is even and deep.

"My Ma used to do this with me when I'd get frustrated in primary school." Jamie tells him. "Feel a tad better?"

Colin nods.

It's quiet for a beat. Jamie focuses on the sounds of bugs humming from out the open window.

"If I tell you something," Colin says, "you promise not to tell anyone else?"

Jamie nods, "Course, Col."

The hand on Jamie's front tenses, then falls between them. Jamie looks at it, and then back up at Colin's face.

"I don't like women." He admits.

Jamie's brows furrow, "That's a bit sexist, mate."

"No-" Colin says, his voice sounds strained, "of course I like women, but I like lads. Like, like-like them."

Jamie's mouth forms an o-shape. He realizes then that his hand is still on Colin's front. He can feel his heartbeat all the way in his gut.

"And you don't like-like ladies?" Jamie asks, finally connecting the dots.

Colin shakes his head, "No."

Jamie smiles small, "That's okay," he says, "more for me then, yeah?"

Colin lets out a relieved laugh, "Yeah, guess so."

Jamie moves his hand to pat the other man's shoulder. "You're alright, Colin." He notes the eyes across from him getting a little wet again, but doesn't say anything. "You're alright."

“Hi, Jamie. Do you want a drink?” Keeley asks him. He’s just come down the stairs after a pit-stop in the loo and he feels his mind racing faster than it has in a while.

He steps forward a bit, “Don’t really know where to start, to be honest.” he says. There’s this feeling in his gut. Like he’s got to be honest about something that’s been on his mind for a while. “I’m a bit all over the place.” his lungs aren’t cooperating with him.

“You wanna start with a beer?” she asks. He’s confused for a second before he remembers her question.

“Eh, no, thank you. Listen, Keeley.” he takes a breath. Keeley gently looks at him. He feels something inside him boil over, “I know that you’re with Roy and I know that you’re happy, but today’s made me realize that I’d hate myself if I didn’t say…'' he takes a deep breath, “I didn’t just come back to Richmond to get away from my dad. I also came back ‘cause of you.” and it’s true. At least it was.

He knows he’s fucked up immediately because of the wide-eyed look she’s giving him. Christ, like, what did he expect? Her to drop Roy right then and there and confess a mutual compassion and desire for him?

The words felt stale and old the second they fell from his mouth to begin with, but he follows it with a truth.

“I finally think I’m becoming the best version of myself,” he looks at her, “the kind of man that you always knew that I could be.” He’s not making it any better, “I know that this is a mad, shitty thing to do, but…” he looks at her again, “I love you, Keeley.” He knows it’s true, but maybe not in the same way as he did before, “Sorry.”

He waits a moment. Keeley doesn’t say a word. So, he turns and leaves.

By the time Jamie’s back in his flat, he’s properly spiraling. He hasn’t felt like this since he was a kid and had to leave home for the first time. It’s like everything is falling apart, but everything’s coming together. Like a puzzle reshaping and making a new picture.

He pulls out his phone to call someone. He can’t call Colin. Colin’s part of it. Can’t call Roy or Keeley. They’re part of it too. Doesn’t really want to bother Ted. He’s been having his own struggles as of late and Jamie would just feel bad if he accidentally made something worse.

As he scrolls through his contacts he sees his dad’s name. Something in him becomes irate. He clenches the device so hard that he thinks if he were in a cartoon it would crunch into a dozen pieces. Fuck him. Jamie thinks. He clicks on the name and blocks the number, not hesitating for even a second.

Then he keeps scrolling and sees “mum”. He freezes, swallows, and clicks the call icon.

It rings twice before she picks up, “Darling, this is unexpected, how are you?” she asks.

Jamie hates the way her voice makes him feel like a child again. He can never lie to his mother. “Not very good, I think.” he confesses.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, “what’s wrong?”

"Don't really want to talk about it," he doesn't know how, "just wanted to hear your voice." He admits.

"I understand, love. What do you want to talk about?" She asks.

He smiles, trying to ignore the stinging feeling in his eyes, "Anything."

His mom goes on a half-hour rant about her knitting club and some drama about people he doesn't know. He tries to picture her face as she talks, as if he were in front of her instead of kilometers away.

When he hangs up he feels a fraction better.

His mind wanders to earlier that afternoon as much as he tries to stop it. He thinks about Colin. About how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. About the brew he makes just for Jamie. About how easy it is to talk to him. About how it felt to reach out and touch him.

About how he likes men.

He tries and fails to ignore that last part.

His phone is still opened and he texts a number he hasn't texted before. Doctor Sharon. He asks for an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning online. She responds half an hour later saying she has a cancellation and can make time for him at seven. He agrees.

Jamie feels uncharacteristically nervous in the Zoom waiting room. He's picking at his fingers again. His split thumbnail stings with pain so switches to his index.

The screen changes after a few minutes of waiting.

"Hello, Jamie," comes Dr. Sharon's familiar voice. She's wearing a smile, which Jamie appreciates, "how are you doing this morning?"

"I'm doing alright," he answers, "That's not true. Feeling a bit shit." He immediately corrects.

"Sorry to hear that, do you want to talk about why?" She asks. He nods.

So he explains it. From the beginning.

How when he made it pro his father suddenly cared about him again. How he sometimes doesn't know who he is outside of football. How sometimes he thinks he does know, and that person terrifies him. How he snapped and punched his dad. How his teammates, his friends, came to comfort him. How good that felt and how he's not sure why he pushed people away for so long when friendship could feel like that. How his dad came to scream at him. How he didn't let his dad in. How he confessed his feelings for Keeley, and how he doesn't think that's true anymore. How he felt awful for it. How he blocked his father's number from his phone.

When he lapses, that's when Dr. Sharon finally speaks, "The way he's treating you, your father, that's abuse, Jamie." She says. He feels an unsettling chill burrow under his skin. "I'm proud of you for distancing yourself from him. I'm sure that wasn't an easy decision." It's in a tone that isn't patronizing, but also not overly kind. It walks that fine line of serious and gentle. It makes him feel a bit more at ease.

"Have you been able to talk about this with anyone else?" She asks.

Jamie nods, "Been running Colin's ear off about it, 'aven't I?" He says. His voice sounds constricted to his own ears.

Dr. Sharon nods, "Colin's a good friend, is he?"

Jamie swallows, "Too good, maybe."

"And why do you think that?"

"I think about him too much." He confesses. A look crosses Dr. Sharon's face. It's not readable to him, and it's gone in an instant, but he doesn't think it was bad. So, he tries to be brave about it, "I think about him all the time. Even when I know I shouldn't."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks.

Jamie shakes his head, "No," but he follows it up with a quick, "Not now. Not yet."

"I understand," she smiles, "we can schedule another meeting for a week from now." She suggests. It's more of a statement, but Jamie nods in agreement. "Maybe you'll want to talk about it, maybe you won't. But, Jamie," she smiles, "just know what you're feeling is completely normal."

He tries to nod.

“I can tell you know you have to apologize to Roy,” she says. He nods fully this time. “Maybe start there. Alright?”

He clears his throat, “Alright.”

After he closes the tab on his browser, Jamie thinks he feels more exhausted than he has after any day of training, any day of camp, or any match he's ever played combined.

“Oi!” comes a loud gruff voice, it’s Roy, “Tartt!”

Jamie, mid conversation, turns around to face him. He points to himself and mouths “Me?”

Roy nods and uses his eyes to point to the boot room.

They walk together and Roy slams the door behind them. Inside it smells like feet and old cigarettes.

Before he loses his nerve he spits out, “Wait. Can I - can I just say something first?”

Roy is staring at him, more severe than usual, “Yeah, okay. That’s a good idea ‘cause when I’m done, you won’t have any teeth left, and you’ll need them for the talking bit.”

Jamie blinks, “Right. Yeah, okay. Eh,” he clears his throat. He can do this. “So, at Rebecca’s dad’s funeral I told Keeley I still loved her. It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it, but I ain’t used to bein’ around dead people.”

He can tell Roy is livid, “It just -- It did something to me, emotionally, you know?” Roy’s still just staring at him. He expected a yell or a punch by now. “But I still -- I shouldn’t ‘ave done it, and it was wrong, but I just need you to know that I respect you, and I respect Keeley, and I respect your relationship, and I will never ever do anything like that ever again.”

Somehow, Roy looks even more furious.

Jamie opens his mouth to maybe say something, but he doesn’t know what else there is to add.

Like a kettle brought to boil, Roy erupts with a loud and angry “Fuck!”, and then he turns and leaves the room.

Jamie stands there left wondering if that was a good or bad sign for only a second before Will reveals himself from the back of the room. He’s holding an armful of kits and looks from the door to Jamie.

“Sorry. I kind of froze when you two came in here, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

Jamie, still confused, mutters a soft “Alright.”

“Fuckin’ hell! What’d you do that for?!” Jamie asks. Roy’s just headbutted him in the nose and he feels another bolt of confusion. They just got promoted and are celebrating on the pitch, and he’s getting clobbered? He raises his hand to his sore nose. Roy’s got a hold of the other one.

“So I could do this.” the older man says, right before pulling him in for a much happier hug. Jamie’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

They pull apart and start jumping up and down, screaming in celebration.

It continues into the locker room with everyone chanting “We’re Richmond ‘til we die”.

The team got promoted and Sam is staying and the whole lot of them are going out to celebrate tonight and get absolutely pissed.

The club music is loud and Jamie didn’t realize how long it had been since he’d been to a place like this. He suddenly finds it a little overwhelming.

He’s four or five shots in and decides to slide into a booth to relax for a minute. He watches Isaac and Thierry have a dance-off to the beat. Dani’s clearly trying to get with some poor lady. Sam intensely is talking with Moe about something, who’s nodding his head emphatically. Richard is actively downing shots in a race with Tommy. It’s all how it should be, but he can’t seem to find --

“Is this seat taken?”

Colin.

“No, ‘course not.” Jamie says. He sits up and Colin slides in next to him. Not across like he thought he’d do. Jamie blinks at his thigh pressed up right next to him.

“It was pretty cool. What you did tonight,” Colin tells him, “letting Dani take the kick I mean. You could’ve done that with your eyes closed.” Jamie feels his face heat, “But you did what was best for the team. You believed in him. That was really special.”
Jamie chances a look at Colin and freezes when he sees the way he’s looking at him. His eyes are piercing. Jamie feels their ankles press together. He fiddles with his hands and something erupts in his stomach when Colin reaches out to stop him from picking at his nails.

“Thought you said you didn’t need to be worried around me.” Colin whispers, just for them. Jamie must make a confused look, “It’s your nervous tell.” He slides his index finger over Jamie’s busted thumb and over his palm, up to his middle finger. Jamie feels his heart pounding so hard he can’t ignore it. “Picking at your fingers,” Colin clarifies.

Jamie has never felt seen like this before.

He suddenly feels like he might be sick.

Colin must be able to tell because he slides out from the booth while simultaneously asking, “You okay, Jamie?”

Jamie shakes his head and scrambles to the loo.

He hears the door open behind him. He knows it’s Colin. His body wretches over the toilet, but nothing comes out.

“You need anything?” Colin asks.

“No,” he says harshly, “No, thank you. Go have fun.” he tries to amend. The tone doesn’t sound right still. Almost mean.

He waits until he hears footsteps leave and the door latch before ordering an Uber and going home.

When he’s in bed his mind wanders like it seems to a lot lately. He thinks of brown hair and rough hands and whispered words and toned muscles and secret smiles. Before he knows it he’s half hard and he has to force himself to go to sleep before he does something stupid.

He’s up far too early the next morning. He feels like he’s been hit by a trolley. His bones ache and he feels like shit. So, naturally, he takes a twenty minute walk to Colin’s flat. He uses the knocker a dozen times and is surprised when the door flies open.

Colin looks angry, then his face shifts into confusion, then shock, then his face turns pink.

Jamie doesn’t realize why he’s done the last one until Colin turns around and he sees the name and number on the back of his jumper. They’re his. Fuck.

Jamie watches as Colin makes him a brew. “You feeling better than last night?” Colin asks.

His stomach does something funny, and he doesn't even think before he's walking up to Colin and wrapping his arms around the other man's front from behind. He puts his hands in the pouch pocket.

Now pressed against Colin's back, Jamie can feel him tense. A breath stutters before being released. "Jamie," Colin asks, softer than ever, "what're you doing?"

"Dunno," Jamie murmurs. A moment of vulnerability. He seems to do that a lot around Colin, "it okay, this?" He asks, practically in Colin's ear. Colin nods. He sets his cup down.

Jamie presses his hands flat against his stomach through the fabric. He feels the muscles tighten under his fingers. Instead of keeping them there he flickers them beneath the hem of the jumper. His rough figures trace over the toned muscles and he hears Colin's breath hitch on an inhale. It's kind of freaking him out a little. He is pretty certain he likes it.

Jamie presses closer and lets his hands just sit there. Flat on the other man's core. He puts his head between Colin's shoulder blades and feels him rhythmically breathe in and out.

He closes his eyes, "Don't wanna leave." Jamie admits.

Slowly, Colin moves his hands from the counter to place over Jamie's own. "You don't have to."

An uncharacteristic jumble of butterflies flutter in Jamie's gut. "Sure?" He asks.

Colin nods, "Wouldn't lie." Then he tentatively laces their fingers.

Jamie breathes in the fabric in front of him. It smells like spring in the countryside, and he wishes, suddenly, that he could disappear.

"I don't know how much longer I can pretend I'm fine." Jamie says. It comes out so soft that he hates it. Hates the way he sounds. The hands on his tighten. He doesn’t hate it as much then.

"You don't have to do that either."

“I’m sorry if I was a prick last night.” Jamie says.

“Don’t worry about that.” Colin whispers.

They spend the day curled up on the sofa and doing nothing important. Jamie eventually drags himself back home, well into the evening.

“I think I’m ready to talk about it.” he says, staring at his laptop.

“That’s wonderful,” Dr. Sharon says, “take your time.”

Jamie starts, “When I was younger, there was a boy,” he’s just a memory now, “he had freckles everywhere and dark brown hair. It was curly. His eyelashes were pretty. I’d never thought a boy were pretty before.”

“We were on the same football team, ‘course we were - I didn’t know many people my age outside of football, and anyway, we were best mates. His name was Nicholas. Don’t know what’s happened to him since we were probably fourteen. He's not playing anymore, I know that for sure, but one day he started coming over to my dormitory during camp. It was just us. I was supposed to have a roommate, but nobody ever moved in.”

“We weren’t allowed to have electronics for some reason, but he would read to me sometimes. I would always fall asleep. Wake up with my head on his shoulder or in his lap, what have you. Well, one night we both drifted off. I woke up around midnight, can’t remember why now, that’s not the important part, I woke up and he was looking at me.” Jamie clears his throat.

“We were tangled up and he was looking at me through those pretty eyelashes and he ran his hand over my buzzed head, and I remember thinking then that I really ought to kiss him.” Jamie has never told anyone this before, “He seemed like the type of boy who deserved to be kissed. So, I did.”

“He was my third kiss. First with a lad. Only with a lad. I was so young. So stupid. But he kissed me back." Jamie sighs, "I remember we were bad at it at first 'cause we were both smiling too much, grinning like." He laughs, "We figured it out though. Obviously we didn't do anything more than snogging, but I liked him. We both did -- like each other. A lot. Never spoke to him again after that summer though."

Dr. Sharon hums, "Why do you think that is?" She asks.

He searches for the words for a second. While he does this, he takes a sip from his glass of water. "I think we both could only let ourselves feel that way if we knew it had an expiration date."

"If it felt like it wasn't real, in the long run?" Dr. Sharon supplies.

Jamie nods.

"Why do you think this is coming back to you now?" She gently prods.

Jamie sardonically smiles, "I haven't allowed myself to remember that part of myself for a long time. For a lot of reasons, but mostly because of my dad. I was terrified of him. Scared he'd call me a poof, or a fairy, or fucking soft like he always fucking called me. Except this time it would be true."

"Lately though," he takes a stabilizing breath, "There's been someone who I can't ignore. He's a friend on the team, and I don't know if he even likes me in that way, but I know that he could, and I think that I do. Like him like that." he knows she knows he's talking about Colin, but he can't bring himself to say his name.

"How come?" She asks.

“When I’m with him, I feel soft.” he pauses, “And, I like the way it feels. To be soft. With him.” Jamie’s picking at his fingers again, he smiles at the habit, “He doesn’t make me feel weak, he makes me feel held.”

Dr. Sharon nods for him to continue.

“When he -- When he touches me,” Jamie confesses, “I don’t think I’ve been touched like that. Like someone really meant it. Just to feel me, you know?” he swallows, “I think I’d be fine with just that. If he never wanted to give me more.”

“Do you want more?” Dr. Sharon asks.

Jamie nods, “I want whatever he’s willing to give me.”

She hums, “There’s a lot of stigma around LGBTQ footballers, especially in the men’s league. I don’t need to remind you of that,” she says, “But, Jamie, there are resources out there to help you. Therapy is an important first step. You are certainly not alone. I can guarantee you that.” she assures him.

“Is it weird that I’m not as worried about that part of it?”

Dr. Sharon tilts her head, “Hm?”

“I think it was scarier to admit it to myself than it would be to tell the others.”

“The team you mean?”

“Yeah,” Jamie shrugs, “coaches and stuff too.”

She smiles, “That’s great, Jamie. It shows that you feel comfortable enough to do that. Trust is something people have to earn and clearly they’ve earned yours.”

Jamie nods.

“You don’t have to do anything unless you want to. Just remember that.” She reminds him.

Jamie doesn't think he'll be telling anyone any time soon, but something lifts off his chest knowing that he could if he decided to.

“How do you know you're in love?” Jamie asks.

Coach Beard, Lasso, and Roy all look at him like he’s grown another head.

Jamie had called Ted to ask if they could talk and he’d somehow managed to pull together and impromptu ‘Diamond Dogs’ meeting. Whatever the fuck that meant.

They’re drinking wine and eating some delicious pasta that Ted made when Jamie asks.

“Very casual question.” Roy says.

“Hm.” Beard says.

“Now you two,” Ted scolds, “it’s a reasonable question.” They give him a look as if he’s being ridiculous, but Ted continues.

"Jamie, when you love someone, you just know." Ted explains.

Jamie opens his mouth to protest.

"He's right." Beard stops him.

Roy grunts, "It's like the most familiar feeling you've never had."

Ted smiles big at this, "Why, I'd almost say that was poetic, Roy."

The man in question rolls his eyes, "If you have someone like that. Don't let them go before you even tell them how you feel."

Jamie blinks.

They continue to chat about random things and Jamie downs his glass of wine. He stands up abruptly, his chair screeching.

"Where are you headed?" Ted asks.

"I think I need to tell someone I love them."

Colin’s door opens and Jamie immediately rushes into the flat.

“Jamie?” Colin asks.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie says.

Colin frowns, “For what?”

Jamie scrunches his brows “For just showing up.”

Colin rolls his eyes, “It’s not the first time you’ve done it.” Colin goes to make him tea like he has so many times before.

Jamie wraps his arms around him like he did the last time. His fingers skirting under his t-shirt. He’s not shy this time and he lets them flicker dangerously high and low.

“Jesus, Jamie.” Colin gasps.

Jamie turns his head inward, lips grazing Colin's jaw, "You like that?" He asks. His voice comes out shakier than he planned. Colin arches his neck back a fraction.

"Jamie," he says, fuck it sounds good, "you've got to know what you're doing here." It's a plea, but almost like a question and a statement at the same time. You've got to know what you're doing to me. and Only do this if you know what you're doing. If you know what you want.

Jamie moves closer, letting himself press up against his backside. "You're fucking mint, Hughes." He admits. He takes his hands and slides one over Colin's own, then guides it up to his chest, rubbing slowly and firmly with their fingers together. Colin hisses.

"So fucking mint." Jamie says against his lobe. "Love watching you play. Love playing with you. We're fucking good together, yeah?" Jamie asks. Colin nods.

"What 'bout me, hm?" He asks. He's teasing, and he's surprised at how quickly Colin responds.

"Only want to be on the pitch with you." Colin says.

Jamie hums, "Not fit?" He teases again.

Colin smiles, Jamie loves his smile, "'Course you're fit. You're Jamie fucking Tartt." He says it like it's obvious, "Been thinking you were fit since you were just 'that lad Jamie from Manchester'." The words do something to Jamie's ego that he probably doesn't need.

"Been thinking about you," Jamie admits, "when I probably shouldn't be. When I normally wouldn't. When I'd normally think about some bird." Colin scrunches his face at the turn of phrase, "But it's only you." Jamie says, "Only ever you."

"Please," Colin says. He doesn't say anything else, too scared to ask for what he wants. Jamie can see a small tent forming on his front. He slides their hands back down to his stomach.

"Please what?" Jamie asks. He presses Colin back to feel what he's doing to him. How he's half hard and into this too.

"Kiss me."

Jamie never does anything halfway.

The kiss is searing, bordering on excessive, but they manage to slit their mouths together seamlessly. Jamie’s got Colin pressed up against the counter and he lifts him so he can sit on top of it. Colin’s leaning down, hands splayed over Jamie’s sharp jaw, and Jamie thinks that this is it for him.

Jamie pulls back, “I love you.” He says, point blank.

Colin looks at him like he can’t believe his luck. He wonders if he’ll get a lifetime of that.

“I love you too, you idiot.” Colin says, before kissing him on his forehead.

Jamie feels undeniably soft, and, for the first time in his life, he wishes that feeling would never change.