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“Why is Jamie in your house?” a small voice asks.
Jamie forces his eyes open. He had apparently dozed off on the couch, sprawled on the soft cushions surrounding him. It’s not that surprising, really. The deadly combination of unpeaceful nights and intense training sessions got the best out of him.
He pushes himself up, looking out towards the front door. Roy just got home, and he’s not alone.
“Well, he’s a child, Phoebe. He needs a babysitter, just like you.”
His niece giggles at that, and Jamie tries not to be offended.
“Hi Phoebe,” he answers. “Don’t listen to your Uncle, yeah? He’s just jealous of my youth.”
“You’re both old,” she states. And well, okay. That stings a little. “But that’s okay, because it means that you’re allowed to have lots of ice cream. I wish I was old.”
“Plenty of time for that,” Roy grunts out.
Roy proceeds to put away the groceries in the kitchen, while Phoebe decides to settle in the lounge. She puts out her tiny pink, sparkly bag on the coffee table before taking out many accessories: small pieces of paper, colored pencils, glitter and stickers. It looks like a kid’s shop on its own. She doesn’t seem to mind Jamie being around though - and he’s fucking grateful for that.
Jamie’s good with kids. He’s always been good with kids, especially young football fans looking at him like he’s their favorite person in the entire world. It’s easy. He just has to sign a few shirts, smile in a selfie they’ll treasure until they turn older. He likes doing it, too. It’s not even about the attention - well, it is. He just likes their innocence, the way they hope and dream and see him as an amazing football star, fucking invincible because he scores a few goals every once in a while. He used to be like them, not so long ago. Looking up to some football celebrities, hoping to be like them, someday. Thinking that football would solve everything, if he was ever good enough. It didn’t. But it did help him, when he was younger, and he wants to return the favor.
Phoebe’s different, though, because of course she is. She’s Roy Kent’s niece. She doesn’t care if he’s any good at Richmond, she doesn’t care that he’s adored by half of his schoolmates. She doesn’t see him as Jamie Tartt. He’s just Jamie, who works with her Uncle Roy. And that’s quite scary, isn’t it? That he can’t hide behind the fan adoration or his football skills. He can’t even play with her here, not like that time he had kept an eye on her at Nelson Road. It’s the first time that she’s around here while he’s Roy - flatmate , or something. Surely the kid doesn’t know about his situation, as her questioning had proved. Jamie decides to stay quiet for a bit, hoping she just forgets about him.
Roy eventually comes back from the kitchen and doesn’t have a chance to sit down before Phoebe launches herself at him with a request.
“Can we play Princess and Dragon now, Uncle Roy?”
Roy sighs - he looks a bit tired, Jamie notices.
“Please please pleeease! I’ll let you be the dragon, this time!”
“This time?” Jamie can’t hide his smirk. “Is Roy a fucking princess now?”
This piece of information is way too valuable. Roy will never hear the end of it.
“Shut it, Jamie.”
Roy still hasn’t answered Phoebe as Jamie glances over at him. Something clicks. His right hand is resting on his bad knee, all tensed up. Roy’s not just tired - he’s in pain, and his clenched jaw is trying to keep the secret in. He’s in no condition to play fucking Princess and Dragon, whatever that means, so Jamie has to try something.
“Hey, Phoebs - why don’t you and I take a turn, yeah? I mean, you see that old man all the time. Surely you could use a break.”
There’s a strange look on Roy’s face, quirking his eyebrows. In Roy Kent’s language, it’s the equivalent of the old fashionned What the fuck are you doing? . Jamie ignores it.
“I never need a break from Uncle Roy,” Phoebe says proudly. “He’s the best!”
There’s a feeling bleeding through Jamie’s heart at her words - envy. He’s not jealous of Phoebe or anything. He just realizes how lucky she is, having Roy around, guiding her through life with such care that she doesn’t have a fatherless sized hole in her chest. Jamie never had anyone else to fill his. He pushes the thought away.
“Well, alright, I’ll admit it. I’ve never played that game, and I’d like to be in on the fun. Would you care to show me?”
Phoebe turns around to look at Roy, silently asking for his permission. His uncle nods at her, and she’s running off. “You have to catch me upstairs, Jamie!” she yells.
Jamie lets out a soft laugh, getting up from the couch.
“You don’t have to do that,” Roy grunts out. He seems relieved, though, as he sits down and lets out a sight as he rests his knee on a cushion.
“I know,” Jamie answers simply, shrugging. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a princess to catch. Or a dragon. Whichever one happens to be Phoebe.”
They end up playing for what feels like hours, and Jamie feels like he’s had a second fucking training session. He even has to catch his breath a few times - Phoebe’s a fast one. She gets tired of it, though, so they move on to the next activity, and the next, and where does she get all this energy from, anyway?
But Jamie follows along until the sun starts to set, until they go back down and draw quietly, sitting on the floor around the coffee table. Roy’s back in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. It’s all quiet and peaceful until Phoebe breaks the silence.
“Are you going home after dinner, Jamie?”
I don’t have a home anymore, he thinks.
“Um, no, not tonight,” he says.
“That’s fun. I like sleepovers. Anna invited me during the holidays, too. I think she’s my best friend.” Phoebe pauses her pencil down, looks at Jamie with a curious gaze, the one that kids do, when they pierce into your soul without meaning to. “Is Uncle Roy your best friend?”
Jamie can’t stop the flush spreading on his cheeks.
“Um, he’s -” he stops, trying to think about it. But he doesn’t even have to, really. He’d be lying to himself. “He’s a pretty good friend of mine, yeah.”
He’s pretty sure Roy can hear them from the kitchen, but the other man doesn’t react to the statement. It’s odd. It feels like something he wasn’t allowed to say, not without Roy’s permission. He’s in Roy’s house, basically lives there now. He fucking cried on his shoulder once, had beers and tea and stupid movies nights with the man. Somehow, he still never got over the fear that Roy might despise him.
.
Once Phoebe’s all tucked in, ready to dream away, Roy makes his way downstairs. He tries to shake off the thoughts lingering in his mind. Jamie's kind, Phoebe had started, her voice small under her pile of blankets. Then came the questions, because his niece might be young, but she’s not an idiot. So he had to explain, in words that struggled to come out, that Jamie’s dad was a prick, and that Jamie needed a place to stay for a bit. Just like me, Phoebe had stated innocently, and his heart had fucking shattered at that.
Fucking shit fathers , hurting their kids wether they were around or not, affecting their life for fucking ever because dads are supposed to be good, and to protect you, not - not making Phoebe sad, or Jamie terrified. He fucking hates it, and he hates that no matter how good he tries to be, he’ll never be able to make that feeling disappear.
He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his anger down as he walks down the stairway. Jamie’s sitting around the kitchen table, playing with his empty beer bottle. He doesn’t notice Roy right away, looking up when the other man’s voice startles him.
“Thank you, for -” Roy pauses. He doesn’t really know what to say, to be honest. Thank you for noticing my shit knee and playing with a kid? “Phoebe seemed to have fun.”
“No worries,” Jamie shrugs. "Had a good time too, to be honest.”
They fall silent again. It’s not uncomfortable. It never is, these days. To Roy’s surprise, Jamie is a lot quieter to have around than he thought - except for the occasional bickering, obviously. Roy can’t help but wonder if that’s always the case, or if Jamie’s still worried that he’s out of place here, that he might get kicked out if he makes the wrong move. He hopes that’s not the case.
“I meant to give you a heads up before she came over,” Roy adds. “Her mom got stuck at work and I had to pick her up at school. I didn’t really get to give her a full speech on your presence beforehand.”
“It’s fine,” he replies. “She’s a good kid. Didn’t do anything bad.”
“Yeah, she’s alright;” Roy agrees. “Well - I’m gonna shoot off. Bit knackered.”
Jamie nods, looks like he wants to say something. As Roy starts to move away, Jamie’s voice starts again, just above a whisper.
“I’m sorry about your knee, you know.”
Roy turns around, raises an eyebrow. Jamie’s ripping off the beer label as he speaks again.
“It’s just - I never apologized for that. It got fucked because of me. And I wanted to - ” he sighs, thinks about what to say next. “Things weren’t the same, back then, you know? But it always felt wrong not to say anything. So just - I’m sorry about the whole thing.”
Jamie looks down, after that. Roy needs a few seconds to process it. He had never thought about it that way. Definitely never thought that Jamie felt remorse about it.
“You didn’t fuck my knee,” Roy answers quietly. “ I fucked my knee.”
“Well, you were tackling me.”
“And it was fucking brilliant. Highlight of my career.”
“Fuck off,” Jamie gives him a shy smile before going back to a more serious tone. “I’m still sorry it happened. Just wanted you to know.”
“Alright, Jamie.”
He pauses for a bit - he hates how responsible he feels for everything, now. Fucking Lasso unlocked emotions he never knew he had, taught him how to do the right thing. He’d be mad at himself if he left it there.
“I know you’re trying to be better,” he starts. Jamie stops ripping off his bottle’s label - it’s all shredded now, anyway. He’s looking at Roy attentively, waiting for his next words.
“You’re taking accountability, you’re apologizing when you need to. I’ve noticed. Everyone did. It’s a good thing. But it doesn’t mean that you’re responsible for everything, alright? Sometimes shitty stuff happens, and it doesn’t mean it’s on you, and it doesn’t mean you deserve any blame.”
Jamie stays quiet for a bit, thinking it through. It’s the first time anyone’s ever told him that. He doesn’t know if he trusts it. Because it made sense, didn’t it? He had done some pretty shitty stuff himself, not too long ago. He probably deserved all the fucked up repercussions and everything life threw his way. But Roy Kent was known for his honesty, so Jamie decided to believe him, just this once.
“Yeah, alright. Good night then, Roy.”
“Good night, Jamie.”