Chapter Text
The rest of the way home, Roy can't stop thinking about the man in pink. He was hot, Roy has eyes, and isn't an insecure seventeen year old trying to prove he is tough anymore. He gets to the corner and wait for the light to change. At least the man in pink didn't accuse him of mistreating Princess, because ‘ a dog is not a tool'. As if Princess isn't treated better than lots of other dogs. Plus she's a German Shepherd. They're working dogs. She would get bored if she didn't have something to do.
As the warmth of the sun hits his skin, Roy can't help but think about what it took to get here. If you had told him a decade ago he would have willingly admitted he was needing help, he would have not believed you. But that's what happens when you hit rock bottom. But honestly going from being in the Premier league to learning to walk again might be considered rock-bottom. Roy approaches the door to his house. He pauses to grab the mail. Bill, bill, letter from Phoebe's Girl Guides penpal, letter from their synagogue, statement from his accountant. All normal stuff. He opens the door, takes the harness off Princess and gets her a treat, checks that the bread has cooled properly.
Roy catches his reflection in the mirror in the hallway. He's not unattractive. People hit on him all the time. He should just start dating again. Sarah asked him why he's not dating more than once. It's just, well when you get down to it? He's not really dating material anymore. Maybe if he had always been like this, he would have just gotten used to it and been happy. He sees people with more profound disabilities than him dating and getting married and having kids. But he's Roy Kent. People aren't going to be signing up for him now. They want big man Roy Kent! Who's entire very fluent vocabulary is snarking and profanity. Who could party all night and sleep his way through a stack of models, then dominate on the field the next day.
They don't want Roy who spends all his time keeping house and cooks for his sister and niece. Who loses his balance every time he has a cold. Who has to work around all the triggers he has to avoid being laid up with a migraine. Who can't even order a coffee without stuttering. Roy knows if he says this in front of Sarah, she'll try to force him into therapy. And that's the last thing he wants. He did all the assessments to prove capacity to make his own decisions. And this is one he wants to make.
He hears a notification go off on his laptop. It's an email response from the form he had filled out with the prospective speech therapist signing up for an assessment. Roy opens it.
Subject: New Client Assessment
Dear Roy,
Thank you for your interest in becoming a new client of mine. I do have an opening on Thursday mornings at 9:45. Please reply with if that time will work, if you need a different time, or if you are no longer interested.
I will also need you to fill out the new client paperwork along with the payment portal form (that will be set up if you decide to start working with me after the initial assessment).
I look forward to working with you,
Julie Higgins, SLP
Roy opens up the new client form. It's a standard set of questions about himself and his goals. He might as well just fill it out. He’ll send it in tomorrow once he's slept on it. As he looks over the form, it's all stuff he had expected: is the impediment from birth or acquired from an injury? What are your goals? How willing are you to put effort into therapy exercises at home?
Roy gets to the bottom of the form. “While progress is always possible, a 100% cure is not typical for adults. Your expectations should be increased fluidity and management of impairment leading to greater ease in communication.”
And a box he has to check to confirm he understands. It's better than where he is now.
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Once Phoebe has gone to bed, Roy springs it on Sarah. “I, uh, s-s-signed up for another ass-ass,” Roy pauses to regain his composure,”assessment to go b-back to speech therapy.” Roy looks over at Sarah.
“What prompted this?” Sarah asks. “I've been trying to convince you to go back for years.”
Roy shrugs. He's never been good at talking about things, even before the injury, and now he's just plain bad at talking at all. “I th-think it's time.”
“That's bullshit Roy.” Sarah pauses. “I think this will be good for you. Is it because you've taken a liking to the “jamgrant” guy?”
“No. It's b-because Phe is g-getting older.” Roy rubs his eyes.”I want t-to b-b-be able to g-give a sp-speech at her b-bat mit-mitzvah.” Roy hates how embarrassing this is. How emotions can make it worse.
“You're afraid of embarrassing her.” Sarah reaches over to take his hand.”You know she's not embarrassed by this sort of thing.”
“I am.” Roy blurts out.
“Roy, it's ok if you want this partly for yourself. You deserve to be able to have a full life. You deserve to feel comfortable enough to go out and see people besides me and Phoebe.” Sarah pauses.” I've actually been wondering if we are holding you back.”
“Fuck no.” Roy replies. “Whey w-would you fucking th-think that? You a-and Phe are the r-reason, I-I'm not a rec-recluse.”
“Roy? You've done so much for us two. You deserve to do something for you.” Sarah lets go of his hand. “ I think it will be good for you.”
“I d-don't want Phoebe to k-know. I-I d-don't wa-wa-” Roy pauses. Why is this so fucking hard? “Want to get h-her ho-hopes up.” Roy stands up to start a cup of tea. “It m-might not wo-wo-work.”