Chapter Text
~*~
By the time Roy gets home that evening he’s settled on feeling both disappointment and jealousy, neither of which he has the right to feel, so he also feels ashamed. A few orgasms does not make a relationship, or even the start of one unless both parties are very clear about their intentions, and Roy’s not sure he even wants to consider any kind of relationship beyond sex with Jamie Tartt. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be considering more sex with Jamie. They’re not friends, so he can’t even call it a friends with benefits situation.
The whole thing is ridiculous, and he contemplates deleting Jamie’s number. He pulls up his contact info and hovers his thumb above the trash bin, then presses the chat icon instead. He sighs and rolls his eyes at himself.
R: talked to keeley
No response. Roy makes himself dinner and eats it in front of the telly, watching a nature documentary on birds, or something. He’s not really paying attention.
His phone dings during beer number three.
J: no worries granddad
J: i got the hint
R: i really was busy
J: it’s fine
J: i got a better offer anyway
That stings, but Roy suspects that Jamie’s just being petty.
R: text me next time you’re in town
R: i’ll make sure i’m not busy
R: promise
J: you know i slept with keeley
R: yes
J: and you’re not jealous?
R: of course i am
R: but we’re not dating
R: you can sleep with whoever you want
J: but you’re jealous anyway
R: yes
Roy’s phone chimes an incoming video call, and he answers it embarrassingly quickly. Jamie looks…there’s something intense in his eyes, and a rueful smirk on his mouth.
“You do my head in, Roy, you know that?”
Roy’s eyebrows go up. “Do I?”
“Fucking hell, granddad. Keeley’s mint, too good for me for sure. Probably still love her and all, but…last night I wanted it to be you.”
That hits Roy in the solar plexus like a punch. The air goes out of him. “I did too. Thought of you the whole night.”
“Yeah?” That sparks something in Jamie, and he tilts his head a little. “What did you think about?”
Roy’s cock twitches. “Oh, are we doing this?”
Jamie shrugs. “I’m gonna get off to you whether you’re on the phone with me or not.”
“Fuck,” Roy mutters, and heads for his bedroom.
“What were you thinking of last night?” Jamie asks, his voice already dropping low.
Roy makes him wait for it. He pulls his shirt off over his head with one hand, then takes care of his trackies and pants together. He reclines on his pillows and gives Jamie a look. “Is that your fucking bed?”
Jamie glances behind him, bewildered. “Well it sure as fuck isn’t my living room.”
“That headboard is hideous. I’ve changed my mind.”
With a chuckle, half amused and half offended, Jamie says, “Fuck off.”
Roy grins sharply at him, unable to hide it, and Jamie looks awestruck. “We were at a club and I was imagining you there, grinding your arse against my cock right there on the dance floor.”
“You were dancing?” Jamie’s a little breathless.
“I was mostly standing there while men were dancing on me.”
“Fuck, now I’m jealous.”
“You should be. I almost went home with one of them.”
Jamie’s breath hitches and his shoulder moves just enough for Roy to think he’s already touching himself. “Why didn’t you?”
“He wasn’t you.”
“Fuck,” Jamie murmurs. “What would you do if it was me?”
“Dig my fingers into your hips and hold you there, letting you feel how hard I am, just for you.” Roy presses hard against his cock, imagining Jamie there shifting against him to the beat of the music. Then Jamie would turn around and Roy would kiss him breathless, but he doesn’t say that part out loud. Too intimate, too revealing.
“Would you take me home then?”
“Too far. I’d drag you off into a dark corner and push you up against the wall.”
“Fuck yes, I’d let you.” Jamie’s voice shakes.
“I’d get my fingers in you, open you up right there with your pants around your ankles.”
“Where anyone can see?”
“You wouldn’t care, you’d need it so bad. Use your fingers. Do it right now.”
Jamie’s phone spins around as Jamie shuffles into place, then reveals his face again, twisted in pleasure. “Roy,” he moans, eyes closed.
“Open your eyes, Jamie. Look at me.”
Jamie looks at him. His pupils are dilated and his mouth slack. Roy watches him for a while but doesn’t touch himself. He’d rather focus on Jamie.
“Do you have any toys?”
“Yeah,” Jamie gasps.
“Get your favorite one.”
Jamie sets the phone on the bed, and Roy can hear him moving around, the soft rustling of the sheets. He picks up the phone again and shows Roy a pink dildo of respectable size.
“Good. You remember where we are?”
“The club. Dark corner.”
“You know what I’m going to do next?”
“Fuck me.” Jamie’s breathless and vulnerable.
“Do you want me to?”
“Please.”
“Do it for me.”
Roy can tell the moment the toy slips inside him, because Jamie’s mouth drops open and he stops breathing.
“Fast? Hard?” Jamie whispers once he’s got his breath back.
“To the beat of the music. Can you hear it?”
“Yeah. Fuck, Roy,” he moans, his whole body rocking, phone trembling.
Roy watches him for a while, Jamie’s phone slightly swaying as he fucks himself with the toy, then finally Roy gets the lube and wraps a slick hand around himself. He groans at the sensation, his palm hot and fingers tightening.
“Are you…” Jamie says, panting with pleasure and exertion, “are you touching yourself?”
Roy grunts, low and rough. “I’m inside you.”
Jamie cries out and his phone jerks as he comes. Roy watches the intense pleasure wash over Jamie’s face, burning in his half-lidded eyes. He’s so fucking gorgeous that it actually hurts Roy to look at him. He’s sweaty and disheveled, mouth bitten red, trying to catch his breath. “Roy,” he says, then falls silent.
Roy strokes himself hard and fast, too worked up to draw it out, and Jamie watches him with a soft, limpid gaze, bright pink spots in his cheeks making him look as pretty as a doll. Roy groans as he gets close and Jamie hums through a slow smile, and that more than anything slams Roy over the edge.
“What the fuck are we doing?” Roy hears himself say, still gasping for air, and Jamie just barely flinches.
“I don’t know. But I don’t want to stop.” He sounds almost defiant, challenging, but Roy can see right through it.
He nods, blowing out a long breath. “We need to figure this shit out, Jamie.”
“Jesus Christ. Haven’t you ever heard of afterglow, Roy?” He grunts and winces, possibly removing the toy.
Roy huffs, wiping off his hand on the sheets. “You want me to whisper sweet nothings in your ear?”
Jamie smirks tiredly. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
“That’s not really who we are, is it?” Roy says dryly, biting back words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘good boy.’
“I guess not,” Jamie replies, looking away, leaving Roy feeling bereft somehow.
“I want you,” Roy says simply, and Jamie looks at him again. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Don’t think we know each other well enough to decide that,” Jamie says pragmatically, surprising Roy.
“Keeley said you’re an onion.”
Jamie scrunches up his face. “Stinky?”
“Lots of layers.”
“Oh. That’s alright then.”
Roy sighs. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the fucking doubt that you’re more than just an unbelievable prick. Keeley sees something in you. That’s good enough for me to keep looking.”
“So, you want to like, date me?” Jamie’s eyes are wide as saucers.
“No, you muppet, but I’d like to peel back some layers.”
“And also fuck me?” he asks hopefully.
“And also fuck you,” Roy confirms.
“Mint,” Jamie says, looking chuffed.
~*~
Roy starts following the Manchester City games.
He’s always been aware of their stats, obviously, but he’s never gone out of his way to watch their matches except as research ahead of facing them on the pitch. Now, though, Roy has a more than professional interest. Not that he’d ever, ever support City in any way, but he wants to see Jamie somewhere other than on his phone. He wants to watch Jamie play.
Considering their excellent first team starters, they usually only use Jamie as a sub. Roy thinks Pep is underutilizing him, not seeing the potential in the way he moves, the way he thinks. The truth is that at twenty-three Jamie is no longer considered on the rise, but nearing his peak. This is the best he will ever be.
Roy disagrees. Jamie is a late bloomer, someone whose talent is unfolding more slowly than others. He’s still young though, and his body is sound. He’s got time. It’s a shame that no one else can see it, and it’s also a shame that since he’s on a rival team, Roy can’t encourage or influence him.
So he mostly comes off the bench in the final third, if at all. It strikes Roy as odd that City thought it necessary to recall his loan, but don’t give him a lot of minutes.
When Jamie is on the pitch, Roy soaks up the sight of him like a thirsty man in the desert. It doesn’t make sense. He’s still got the same cocky attitude, pushing everyone’s buttons, leaning into being a prick. But Roy has seen him vulnerable and begging, stripped of all that.
~*~
Roy texts him one night after a few beers at home, tipsy and horny, and Jamie calls him back on video from his mum’s house. He looks relaxed and happy, which Roy has never seen before.
“It’s my mum’s birthday,” Jamie explains as he climbs the stairs for some privacy. “We were just finishing the cake. My stepdad makes the best cakes on earth, you wouldn’t believe.”
“Why the fuck are you calling me then?” Roy protests. “Go have cake with your mum.”
“Wanted to see you,” he says softly, and something inside Roy that has been icy for a long time starts to thaw.
“We’re not having phone sex in your mum’s house,” Roy says, chuckling.
Jamie blushes, actually fucking blushes. “It’s not about that.”
“Where are you? Looks like a kid’s room.”
“Yeah, it’s my bedroom from when I was a sexy young lad. See? Trophies.” He swings the phone around to show Roy a shelf full of youth academy trophies.
“Show off,” Roy says with a smirk, then blinks as Jamie turns the phone around. “Wait, hold up. Is that–”
As fast as he’d blushed, the color drains from Jamie’s cheeks and he shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Jamie,” Roy says sternly.
Jamie sighs and flips his phone’s camera. There on the wall opposite Jamie’s bed is a poster of Roy in his Chelsea kit, with terrible hair and a scowl. It’s easily the worst poster ever made of him, and he can’t believe this is the one Jamie chose for his wall.
Roy can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. “Fuck, Jamie. Why this one?”
Jamie flips the camera again. “You signed this one. And those eyebrows are dead sexy.”
Roy rolls his eyes. “Such a fanboy.”
“Never claimed otherwise, old man.”
“So that was hanging on your wall during your formative years?”
“Yeah, it was. Over my bed. Read into that what you like.”
Warmth kindles low in Roy’s belly and he raises an eyebrow. “No phone sex, Jamie.”
“You brought it up,” Jamie says with a grin.
“Go eat cake. Spend time with your mum.”
Jamie’s grin softens. “It’s been good. Seeing her.”
“I can tell,” Roy says, and they smile at each other like idiots for a moment, until Roy says goodnight and hangs up.
~*~
Roy is fucking nervous.
City are in town to play Chelsea, and Jamie texted after dinner that he was on his way over. He should arrive any minute, and Roy is pacing his front hall like a lunatic. Like he’s never had sex with Jamie before.
The doorbell rings and Roy freezes like a statue. He forces his limbs to loosen and opens the door. Jamie’s on the front step wearing a ridiculous floral printed tracksuit and a tentative smile.
Roy reaches out and grabs him by the front of his jacket and yanks him inside, slamming the door after him.
“Smooth, granddad,” Jamie barely has time to say, then Roy pushes him up against the wall and kisses the fuck out of him.
Jamie moans into his mouth and goes pliant as Roy clutches at him, getting one hand behind his neck and the other under his shirt to get at the silky warmth of his skin. He feels like he’s losing his mind, he’s in such a frenzy to get as close to Jamie as humanly possible. He’s been half hard since Jamie texted that he was on his way, and he rubs his hips against Jamie’s to get the friction he craves.
“Oh fuck,” Jamie gasps, tearing his mouth away to suck in air. Roy tugs his head back and latches onto his neck instead, until Jamie yelps, “No marks!” and Roy pulls away with a groan.
“Get upstairs,” Roy says, and barely recognizes his own voice.
Jamie visibly shivers, then gives him a shaky smirk. “Or what?”
“Or I fuck you right here.”
“I’m not seeing a problem.”
“Jamie.”
“Alright, Jesus,” Jamie says, grinning, letting Roy walk him backwards to the stairs.
Roy isn’t sure how they make it to the top floor without falling and breaking something, but the next thing he knows he’s stripping off Jamie’s clothes and shoving him toward the bed, then making quick work of his own. Jamie glows golden in the light of the bedside lamp, and his eyes are dark, all pupils. He reclines against the pillows and slowly strokes his cock as he waits.
Blood racing through his veins, Roy crawls up the bed and flips Jamie over onto his stomach. He goes easily and braces himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder. Roy traces the line of Jamie’s spine and presses biting kisses downward as he goes, scraping his teeth on the bumps of his vertebrae. He thinks about rimming him, getting his mouth between Jamie’s cheeks and working him open with his tongue, but he doesn’t have the patience right now.
Roy coats his fingers with the lube he’d tossed onto the bed before Jamie had arrived, and spreads his cheeks to reveal Jamie’s hole, already shiny and pink. Jamie glances back again and catches Roy’s eye, his own sparkling with anticipation.
“I already did the work for you at the hotel.”
Wide eyed, Roy rubs Jamie’s twitching hole and finds it soft and ready. He growls low, and in a matter of heartbeats he’s slicked his cock and is thrusting in. Jamie arches his back and gasps, pushing back hard against him.
Time moves in shocky little skips, matching Roy’s thundering heartbeat and pounding thrusts. He’s got his hands around Jamie’s hips and he knows he’s clutching hard enough to leave red fingerprints on his skin. Jamie’s moaning with every quick breath, chanting Roy’s name and variations on the word ‘please.’
Roy feels like a man possessed. He’s already got everything Jamie could possibly give him, and still he wants more. Jamie’s so hot and silky around his cock, Roy doesn’t want to remember what it’s like not to be inside him.
“Jamie, fuck, Jamie,” Roy groans, slowing his rhythm to drag out the pleasure. Jamie clenches around him and grips the rungs of the headboard with white-knuckled fingers. “I don’t want it to end.”
Jamie lets out a hiccupping laugh, slipping down beneath him to lie flat on his stomach. He draws up one leg just a bit. “Like this. Slow. Lie down.”
“I’ll crush you,” Roy protests, trying to brace himself up.
“Please, crush me,” Jamie replies, reaching back for him.
Roy rests himself down on Jamie’s back, feeling Jamie’s ribs expanding beneath him as he breathes. He moves shallowly and constantly inside him, shifting in little rocking increments against the round swell of his arse. He presses a kiss to the nape of Jamie’s neck and Jamie shudders.
“We’ve got time,” Jamie whispers.
So Roy’s frantic efforts subside, he slows down and appreciates every moment of burning pleasure. He feels like he’s melding with Jamie’s body, skin to skin.
“I want to keep you like this,” Roy murmurs against Jamie’s ear. “Just like this. Spread out for me in my bed.”
“I want to stay,” Jamie confesses in a moan.
Roy doesn’t speed up, at the end. He feels Jamie shiver and contract around him, over and over while Jamie pants against the sheets with an open mouth and closed eyes. Roy slides as deep as he can and pulses inside Jamie’s body. It feels–however improbable–like he’s leaving an indelible mark on Jamie, that at least for this moment Jamie is his.
~*~
It says a lot, Roy thinks as he listens to the ringing of the video call, that it’s Jamie Tartt he is waiting on to pick up. He doesn’t want to examine it, he just wants to let his instinct dictate his actions. And his instinct is to call Jamie before anyone else.
“Granddad,” Jamie says with a grin and a wink when he answers. “It’s a little early for a call, innit?”
It also says a lot that Roy doesn’t react to the nickname. “Jamie,” he says, then doesn’t know how to follow that up.
The grin slides off Jamie’s face. He stares at Roy, then his eyes shift around like he’s trying to see past him. “Where are you?”
“On the pitch,” Roy mutters. He takes a deep breath and looks at the grass beneath his feet. The sides of the stadium rise up around him, rows upon rows of empty seats, like he’s standing at the bottom of a huge bowl.
Jamie’s eyebrows twitch. “Training?”
Roy shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m hoping you’ll say. It won’t change anything. It’s probably a mistake to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Jamie prompts, his voice calm and serious in a way Roy’s never heard.
“Lasso’s benching me.”
Jamie sighs heavily.
“I told him to go fuck himself, but he’s fucking right. I can’t keep up anymore.”
There’s a strange look in Jamie’s eyes, something almost heartbroken, but at least it’s not pity. “Roy. Fuck.”
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to be without this.” He shuffles his feet and feels the grass shift under his weight. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you. I don’t know why I expect you to give a fuck.”
“I give a fuck,” Jamie says simply, and Roy believes him.
He scrubs his hand over his face. He’s not going to cry, but his cheeks are hot. “I don’t know how to be just Roy. Would you even…”
“Yes, I would,” Jamie replies earnestly.
“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Roy says, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yes, I do. I’d still want you. It doesn't make a difference to me if you’re Roy Kent or just Roy. Maybe it would have before, I don’t know. But not anymore.”
There’s a fullness in Roy’s chest, like there are too many emotions crammed in, all jostling for space. “Do you think I should just hang up my boots now? Is it time?”
“Roy,” Jamie says softly. “I don’t know the answer to that. But I think you do.”
Roy looks at the grass again, at the brilliant green of it. “I need to see you. Not just at the game.”
Jamie nods. “I’ll be there Saturday afternoon. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel.”
“Good,” Roy says, and Jamie smiles. It’s an intimate smile, the smile of a friend.
~*~
Roy stops Ted from getting flattened by a lorry. The coach is a little drunk and a lot surprised to see Roy. Sitting in Ted’s kitchen, sipping a good cup of tea while Ted makes terrible faces at his own, it’s surprisingly easy to make a decision. He asks Ted for more time, but he already knows what he’s going to do, even though he’s fucking terrified. He doesn’t know who he is without football, but maybe–just maybe–he won’t be alone while he finds out.
~*~
“I wish Lasso would stop saying nice things about me to the press.”
Jamie’s head is laying on Roy’s chest, and Roy’s stroking his fingers through Jamie’s disheveled hair. They’re both still coming down from their highs, a little sweaty and overwarm, and Roy wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world.
“Why’s that?”
“Because it hurts,” Jamie admits softly.
Roy hums. “You still wish you could have stayed?”
Jamie leans back to give him an incredulous look. “Mate, when have I ever given you the idea that I’m happy up north?”
“I just always thought, with a gaffer like Pep you’d be thriving. You can learn so much from him. Ted’s got heart at least, but he’s got nothing to teach you except how to be a better person.”
Jamie sighs. “I sort of miss that. His fucking speeches. Some of that shit…stuck with me, you know? Don’t ever tell him I said that.”
“He says nice things about you because he likes you, Jamie. It wasn’t his choice that you left, you know that.”
“But I’m playing for the team that’s going to bully you into relegation.”
Roy sits up, dislodging Jamie. “Fuck off.”
“Sorry,” Jamie says, contrite, sitting up and pressing his mouth to Roy’s shoulder in apology. “That was a shit thing for me to say.”
“Look,” Roy says slowly, “I know there’s very little chance for us. But those lads want it so much they’re willing to fight tooth and nail to believe they can win. I’m not going to tell them otherwise.”
Jamie tugs Roy back down, and they both turn on their sides to face each other. Roy looks into Jamie’s worried eyes, then kisses him. Jamie returns it for a moment, then separates them by a few inches.
“I have to play to win, Roy.”
“I know.”
“Even if that means sending Richmond down.”
“I know,” Roy says again, nudging Jamie’s hair off his forehead. “It’s your job. Just like it’s my job to sit on the bench and cheer the lads on. We both have our parts to play.”
“Roy,” Jamie says hesitantly. “All my life I’ve wanted to play either with you, or against you. I just wanted to be able to meet you on the pitch. But tomorrow…I don’t want you on the bench any more than you want to be there, but I’m also glad we don’t have to play against each other. I don’t know what I would do.”
“You’d play to win, like you said. I’d expect you to.” And the thing is, Roy’s a little relieved too. He knows how fast Jamie is, and he knows he can’t keep up.
They lapse into silence, and Roy drifts off to sleep without meaning to. The next thing he knows Jamie’s kissing his cheek gently and rubbing his arm. He’s dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Roy regretfully.
“I’ve gotta go or I’ll be late for curfew.”
Roy walks him to the door, but before he opens it he curves his hand around the back of Jamie’s neck and draws him into a kiss. He doesn’t want to let go, wants to stay in this safe bubble they’ve made together that’s apart from reality, but he gives Jamie one more kiss and steps back.
Jamie shuffles his feet. “I don’t know if we should wish each other luck, or what. Doesn’t really make sense.”
“Let’s just say goodnight, then,” Roy says, “and, see you tomorrow.”
Jamie still looks worried. “Roy, no matter what happens…we…”
Roy just kisses him and opens the door.
~*~
Searing pain is all that Roy can feel. It radiates outward from his knee, shooting up his leg, turning his stomach, making it hard to draw breath. He has flashes of memories, his feet pounding down the pitch, cold air in his lungs, heartbeat in his ears. His body knowing the perfect angle to slide, neatly slamming into the ball and just clipping Jamie’s boot by inches.
He rolls onto his back, groaning, and his lower leg doesn’t want to roll with him. Sam leans over him, his face tight with concern.
“I fucked my knee,” Roy grits out, back arching as he tries to get away from the pain. He clutches his thigh, afraid to touch any lower.
“Roy!” he hears, and cranes his neck to look for Jamie. In a moment Jamie’s face appears above him, his eyes wide and panicked. “Fuck, Roy, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“The fuck are you sorry for? I tackled you,” Roy protests, his voice rough as gravel with pain.
Jamie squeezes his shoulder. “What do you need? Stretcher?”
Roy drowns for just a moment in Jamie’s eyes, taking a split second of comfort in him. Then he takes stock of his body and says, “No stretcher. Ever. Just help me up.”
Sam and Jamie get Roy to his feet, Sam staring in surprise at Jamie the whole time. Roy bends in half and nearly buckles when he gets his leg under him and fresh pain sparks through his body.
“Listen,” Jamie says in his ear, and Roy hears his chant echoing around the stadium, loud as thunder.
He takes an experimental step and grits his teeth, steeling himself to cross the pitch under his own power. He gently shakes off the helping hands and looks around, taking it all in one last time. Jamie steps in front of him, devastation on his face, but Roy can’t do anything but nod at him and turn away.
The walk to the tunnel seems interminable, but he puts one foot in front of the other and claps for the crowd as he goes. His feet are made of lead, but he manages not to stagger until he reaches the tunnel. He continues his solitary journey with one hand against the wall.
The dressing room is only half-lit, which Roy appreciates. He sits down in front of his cubby and looks down at his leg. He’s covered in sweat and mud and his knee is bruised and swollen. The game is continuing without him, and he can’t just sit here alone and do nothing, so he unlaces his boots for what he knows is the last time, and hobbles to the showers.
He’s clean and dressed, an ice pack taped to his knee by one of the physios, when there’s suddenly a wall of sound preceding the bursting open of the dressing room door. Roy flinches in surprise and sits down awkwardly at his cubby, and watches as the team rushes in, jubilantly yelling.
“We did it, Roy! We’re staying up!” Sam shouts, grabbing Roy’s shoulders.
“How the fuck?” Roy exclaims, shocked.
“Dani’s bicycle kick in injury time, that’s how the fuck!” Sam’s grinning wider than Roy’s ever seen, obviously moved to profanity. “You prevented Jamie’s goal when none of us could get there, Roy, and it made all the difference.”
Roy’s speechless, blinking. His knee is proper fucked, but it wasn’t in vain. Knowledge that this is a career ender hurts as sharply as the pain in his knee, so it’s a small consolation, but it does help a little.
He wants to ask about Jamie, but he doesn’t actually know what he would say, and anyway there isn’t anyone to ask. Mostly he just wants to lay eyes on him again, but Jamie will be getting on the coach back to Manchester soon, and there’s nothing to be done.
~*~
Roy’s ice pack is slipping. The dressing room is still buzzing with relief and excitement and he’d rather not interrupt to ask for help, so he limps down the hall to the treatment room to tape it again. He’s reaching for the handle when a boot suddenly slams into the wall on the other side of the window. Roy jerks back, then realizes that Jamie’s sitting motionless on the bench by the door, and the look on his face is…hopeless. He meets Roy’s eyes through the window, and there’s no spark there.
“Do you really think I would’ve come all the way down to London to watch my son pass the ball?”
Roy has never seen Jamie’s father, but it’s immediately clear that the man leaning down into Jamie’s space, spitting vitriol from inches away, is his dad. And Jamie just lets him. Lets his father shove his head violently sideways.
“You could’ve scored the winner, but you proper fucked that up, didn’t you? You’re better than that, Jamie. Fuck!”
Roy’s wrenching open the door before the last word is even finished, and it swings hard into the wall, rattling the window pane. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Jamie’s eyes are wide and warning. Roy doesn’t care what Jamie is trying to tell him, he only knows that he has to get in between Jamie and his father. He glares at the man, who doesn’t resemble Jamie much except around the eyes–though Jamie’s are more beautiful.
“Oh, big man Roy Kent, is that you?” Jamie’s dad turns falsely jovial, puffing up his chest and looking Roy up and down. “Don’t think I forgot that tackle on my Jamie, though you got what was coming to you, didn’t you? They call that karma, my son.”
“I’m not your fucking son,” Roy says, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down at the slightly shorter man.
“No, you’re right. This here is my son, this ungrateful fuck who would rather pass than shoot, eh Jamie?” He steps forward and Roy gets right in his path, blocking him from even looking at Jamie. Roy feels Jamie stand up behind him and grab his arm.
“Roy, don’t. Get out,” Jamie says, voice hard, but Roy can hear just the slightest tremor in it. He’s become very familiar with Jamie’s voice.
“Yeah Roy, this isn’t your business. Unless…is he sucking your cock? I can’t think why else a big man like yourself would give a shit.” Jamie’s father scowls in angry disgust. “That’s not how I raised you, is it Jamie? Fucking pussy.”
Jamie’s hand tightens on Roy’s upper arm. Roy looks at the man with undisguised contempt, wondering if he could get away with punching him on principle. “You don’t have the right to talk to him that way. Or to lay a finger on him.”
Behind him, Jamie makes a little despairing whimper.
“I can do whatever I goddamn fucking please.”
“Not while you’re in my house,” Roy says, gesturing around them. “You’re not welcome here. Fuck off.”
Jamie’s dad takes a slow step forward, testing his boundaries. Roy growls at him. Startled, he backs off.
“We’re done here anyway. Jamie–” he leans around Roy to look at Jamie, his eyes glinting with a threat. “I’ll see you back home.”
When they’re alone, Jamie lets out a shaky sob and collapses into the back of Roy’s shoulder. The extra weight on Roy’s knee burns like fire, but Roy ignores it. He pushes the door closed and pulls the shade.
“Come here.”
Jamie buries his face in Roy’s neck and Roy wraps him up in the tight circle of his arms. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Jamie says, his words muffled. “It’ll just be worse now.”
Roy clenches his jaw. Don’t go back, he wants to say. Stay with me. He pulls Jamie back and kisses him hard, as though he can take away the hurt with willpower and his mouth alone. Jamie moans and melts against him, and they kiss until Jamie jostles Roy in his desperation. Roy wrenches back involuntarily, hissing in pain.
Jamie looks horrified. “Oh fuck, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Roy says, and drops down on the bench. He readjusts his ice pack and gestures for the tape on a nearby counter. Jamie grabs it and kneels in front of him, helping him set everything to rights. The whole time Jamie is biting his lip and looking guilty.
Roy shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. It was my choice to tackle you.”
“Just doing your job?” Jamie asks with a wry smile.
“Exactly.”
“But…”
Roy must know Jamie even better than he thinks, because he can read a whole conversation in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s fucked. You know what that means for me.”
Jamie’s eyes shine with tears that don’t fall. He nods.
“Did you do your job?” Roy asks, trying to distract him.
“Yeah. I almost got one, last minute of injury time. I probably could have made the shot, but I passed to Hendrick. He had the better chance, but my angle was off and it went past him. I think I took one stride too many before I passed.”
“That’s not like you.”
Jamie sighs, shaking his head. “Swear down, I was doing the job. I didn’t miss on purpose. But I…” Jamie swallows hard. “I was fucking distracted.”
“Distracted by what?”
“I was worried about you.”
Roy doesn’t know what to do with that. His jaw clenches and he frowns. Jamie sees his expression and deflates further, though when Roy cups his cheek his eyes brighten a little. This isn’t something he had ever looked for or expected to find, but it’s very clear to him that he and Jamie are more deeply intertwined than he thought. What that means for the future, he has no idea, and there’s no time now to acknowledge it.
He kisses Jamie softly. “We’re both human. We did our best.”
Jamie nods and stands up, then helps Roy to his feet. “I have to go. The team is probably waiting for me.” He kisses Roy again, then once more.
“Call me when you get home,” Roy says, wanting to put his arms around Jamie again, but resisting.
“I will,” Jamie says, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Roy’s heart race. Neither of them say anything more, though, and Jamie slips out the door.
Roy stands there for another minute. His mouth is still tingling from Jamie’s kiss. He’s not used to grappling with so many emotions at once, and it feels like a storm inside his chest.
The door swings open suddenly and Roy startles, his heart leaping at the thought that it might be Jamie coming back, but Ted’s mustachioed face peeks into the room.
“There, you are, Roy. I was afraid I’d have to send out the cavalry to find you. Everything okay?”
“Needed to tape my knee,” Roy mutters, hobbling toward the door. Ted gets out of the way and then walks slowly next to Roy down the hall to the dressing room.
“I feel like we should all thank you for what you did,” Ted says gently, “but I don’t think you’d want to hear that.”
Roy shakes his head. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, or to think about what he’s just lost, because then he’d have to think about the future. He focuses on the pain of each step and lets that drown out the storm inside him.
“I think I’ll just nod and say I appreciate you, Roy Kent, and you can nod back, and that’s all that really needs to be said about it.”
Roy nods at Ted, grateful. They regard each other for a moment, then turn away.
The dressing room is still lively, the lads still giddy with relief, and Roy joins them for the last time.
~*~
The first clue that something is wrong should have been the fact that Jamie had called him on the phone with no video, but Roy had been pleased enough to hear his voice that he overlooked that unusual choice.
“I’ve been talking with Pep,” Jamie says, his voice modulated and calm.
“Yeah?” Roy prompts him, slicing tomatoes while his phone is on speaker, propped against a salt shaker.
“About my contract. About leaving City.”
Roy’s knife slips. He steadies his hands and starts again, grunting to let Jamie know he’s listening.
He hears Jamie let out a deep sigh. “There’s only one team in England that I want to play for, and if they don’t take me…I’ll look abroad.”
“That’s drastic,” Roy says, alarmed.
“I’ve gotta get out of here, mate. I’m fucking miserable.”
“Is Pep that hard to work with? Or the City lads?’
“No, Pep’s the best. The lads are fine, whatever. It’s Manchester that’s the problem.”
“Your mum is in Manchester.”
There’s a long silence. “So’s my dad.”
Roy stares at the phone’s black screen. “Jamie,” he says slowly, “call me on video.”
“No, let’s just do it this way. I’ve got a kaolin clay mask on. Good for the pores, but I look a fucking fright.”
Jamie’s voice is tense, and Roy frowns. “Jamie.”
Silence.
Roy wipes his hands on a towel and picks up his phone. He hits the video call button and waits. Eventually Jamie answers, and his bedside lamp illuminates the livid, swollen bruise on his cheekbone.
“Fucking hell, Jamie.”
Jamie doesn’t turn his face away, but he won’t look directly at Roy either. “I’ve gotta get out of Manchester.”
Roy sucks in a breath. “I’ll help you. Whatever you need.”
Tears slip down his cheeks and Roy wants to wipe them away, wants to kiss him until he smiles.
“I need Richmond. I need fucking Lasso. Do you think he’d take me back?”
Roy considers. “He didn’t want you to leave in the first place, so…maybe. We barely avoided relegation, and Dani can’t carry the whole fucking team on his shoulders alone. Two aces are better than one.”
Jamie looks at him, hope shining in his eyes.
“I don’t know about the lads, though,” Roy warns. “You burned a lot of bridges before you left, Jamie.”
“I can apologize, do whatever it takes to make amends. They’re good lads, I shouldn’t have treated them like I did. I was such a prick.” He scrubs the last of his tears away with his palms.
“You’re right,” Roy says honestly. “You were an absolute shit. And it might take a while for them to trust you.”
“I can be patient.”
Roy raises an eyebrow.
Jamie smirks faintly. “I can be patient when it counts.”
“Let’s get you a meeting with Ted and Rebecca. Can you come down soon?”
“Mate, I can be there tomorrow,” he replies, his whole demeanor lighter now.
Something curls tight in Roy’s belly at the idea of seeing Jamie again so soon. “I’ll make a call, then. Come to my place first, we can go together.”
Jamie’s grin, stripped of all bravado, is beautiful.
~*~
There’s an accident on the M40, so Jamie doesn’t have time to go to Roy’s first. Roy waits for him in the car park at Nelson Road, leaning against his G-Wagon to take the weight off his knee, hands in his pockets so he doesn’t fidget.
The bruise on Jamie’s cheek is even darker than it had been last night, and Roy has to fight the urge to touch it, to kiss him, to do anything other than look at him from a polite distance apart.
They meet Ted and Rebecca in her office, and rather than sit at the desk she motions for them to sit on the couches by the windows. Roy sits as close to Jamie as he dares.
“First of all,” Ted says, gesturing between the two of them, “I had no notion that you two had patched things up between you, much less that you became friends. I’m pleased as punch about it, if not a little surprised.”
Jamie shrugs. “It was a waste of energy to hate the old bastard anymore.”
Roy shoves him and Jamie smirks, but Roy can tell that he’s on edge.
“And this shiner you’ve got on your face, there, that’s not from some dust-up between you two?”
Jamie shakes his head. “Swear down. It was…I don’t want to talk about it, but it wasn’t Roy.”
“Alright, I just had to check, given your history.”
“That’s fair,” Roy concedes.
“So, Jamie,” Rebecca says in her formal, crisp voice. “I understand you have some questions for me. I believe I can guess what this is about, but I’d like to hear it in your words.”
“I’m leaving City. Whether that means Pep dissolving my contract or selling me to another club, I don’t care. I won’t play in Manchester again. I need out.” He rubs his cheek, maybe unconsciously, and Rebecca’s eyes narrow.
“And you want to play for Richmond.”
“Richmond, or abroad. No one else.”
Rebecca purses her lips and shares a significant glance with Ted, who takes a deep, quiet breath.
“And you, Roy? What’s your part in this?” Ted asks, as serious as Roy has ever heard him.
“I’m vouching for him, that he’s willing to be a team player now, and you know I wouldn’t say that about him if I didn’t fucking believe it. It’s mutually beneficial. You both need each other.”
“Okay, one question, Jamie. Why Richmond?”
Roy looks at Jamie, who is chewing anxiously on his lip. After a moment he says, “Because of you.”
Ted blinks.
“You made this place feel like…it could be a family. Like a home. You made me want to be here, I just didn’t realize it until it was too late. I could be good here, I think, and I could help you. Dani and me, together, we can get you goals.”
Silence falls, as they all digest Jamie’s words. Jamie glances at Roy and then looks out the window at the clear blue sky, apparently having said all he could say. Once upon a time he might have sat there radiating arrogance, but now in his eyes there’s a chaotic swirl of nervousness and hope. Layers upon layers peeled back.
“Ted and I have a lot to discuss,” Rebecca says, and Roy can hear some warmth in her tone that gives him hope. “And I’ll need to speak with your manager and your agent about your contract, obviously, should we decide to pursue this. I’ll get back to you with some answers when I have some to give.”
She stands and gestures politely at the door. Jamie mumbles his thanks as they leave and Roy nods at Ted, who gives him a hint of a smile under his mustache.
~*~
By unspoken agreement they both drive straight to Roy’s house. They make it as far as the foyer before Jamie leans right into Roy’s arms. Roy breathes in the scent of Jamie’s hair and kisses the bruise on his cheek, and it feels like they’re together, without having said the words. He hadn’t been looking for a boyfriend, but here they are.
He feels foolish and unsteady, using that word in his head, so he kisses Jamie’s mouth to prevent himself from saying anything. Jamie opens immediately to take in Roy’s tongue, but it’s so, so gentle, more so than they’ve ever been with each other.
“Upstairs?” Jamie asks hopefully, and Roy nods.
Because of his fucking knee Roy has to take the stairs slowly and a little awkwardly, but Jamie doesn’t comment or rush him, just holds his hand and keeps pace with him.
They each take off their own clothes without ceremony and lie down, legs slotted together and hands softly grasping. They kiss for a long time, until Roy’s mouth tingles and his cock throbs, and Jamie works his way down to suck Roy into the hot channel of his mouth.
It’s the slowest, most languorous blow job Roy has ever received, and he feels like he could die from too much pleasure. The long strokes of Jamie’s tongue, the little flicks at the head, are almost too good to handle with dignity. He weaves his fingers into Jamie’s hair and he moans in response.
Eventually Jamie crawls back up to give Roy a kiss that tastes faintly like himself, and Roy rather desperately points at the bedside table for the lube. Jamie retrieves it and holds it up, waiting for a prompt.
“Get yourself ready,” Roy rasps. “I want to see you do it.”
He guides Jamie to lie down on his side facing away, and he has the perfect view of Jamie’s fingers disappearing into his hole, which turns shiny and pink as it stretches. Jamie breathes in a long, slow rhythm with the press of his fingers, and Roy finds himself matching him.
Roy can’t help but gently suck kisses into the nape of Jamie’s neck, and Jamie shivers and gasps. He removes his fingers and shifts back toward Roy in clear meaning, so Roy finds the right angle and slips into the slick heat of Jamie’s body. They both moan, and Roy wraps his arm around Jamie to pull him close as he begins to move.
It’s as easy as breathing, being with Jamie now. All the animosity, all the posturing, all the toxicity has been stripped away, and Roy thinks it just might be possible that they could fit together now instead of cutting each other with jagged edges.
Jamie laces his fingers with Roy’s and arches his back, pressing into each rock of Roy’s hips. “Roy, please,” he groans softly, and moves their joined hands to his hard cock. It’s so wet at the tip that their tangled fingers slip easily, and together they stroke Jamie to his peak. His body tightens around Roy’s cock like waves rolling in, and he’s helpless to do anything but press his teeth gently to Jamie’s shoulder and spill deep inside of him.
~*~
Roy wakes much later than he usually does, though he’s not surprised given their late and wonderfully exhausting night. Jamie is asleep beside him, his unbruised cheek pressed against Roy’s arm, snoring softly.
Laying there quietly, letting Jamie sleep, Roy’s mind wanders. He’s happy that Richmond escaped relegation, that what Ted has built can continue to grow. Of course he’s happy for them, even if he himself won’t be a part of their future.
Jamie might be, though. Staying in the Premier League means that Richmond might have the money and means to buy Jamie from City, offering Jamie a place to flourish.
He thinks about what Jamie had told him about the last minute missed goal opportunity in the final game. Maybe Jamie wouldn’t have missed if he hadn’t been distracted thinking about Roy. He wouldn’t have been worried about Roy if they hadn’t unwittingly stumbled into a relationship, which would never have happened if Jamie hadn’t propositioned Roy in the hallway at Nelson Road, which might not have happened without Dani’s bottle of mezcal, and so on.
Roy’s head spins. There’s a saying he remembers his sister telling him once, when she was recounting all the unexpected steps that had led to Phoebe’s existence. When a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil it causes a tornado in Texas. Roy wonders where they might be now, if any of those events had gone differently.
Jamie stirs beside him and gives him a sleepy kiss on his shoulder. All thoughts of butterflies disappear under the warm glow in Roy’s chest at the sight of Jamie, soft and rumpled in the morning, tangled up in Roy’s bed sheets.
Roy lifts his arm and Jamie shifts closer, resting his head on Roy’s chest. All that silky skin suddenly pressed up against Roy’s side gives him ideas, but he luxuriates in the anticipation instead.
“Are we doing this, then?” Jamie asks softly, and Roy doesn’t pretend to mistake his meaning.
“Yeah. I think we are.”
Jamie leans up on his elbow and brushes a kiss across Roy’s mouth, and Roy slips his hand into Jamie’s hair, holding him in place when he might have pulled away, for a longer kiss that seals the deal.
They’re rocking lazily together, lost in the simple pleasure of touch, when Jamie’s phone starts ringing on the bedside table. They pull apart and Jamie frowns a little, sitting up to grab it. He stills, then shows Roy the screen.
“Hi, Coach,” Jamie says nervously. Roy rubs a soothing hand up his back. Jamie hums a few times, listening intently, then as slow as a sunrise and just as bright, he smiles.
~*~