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Jamie and Roy haven’t had a fight like this in a long while. Actually, if Colin’s counting right, assuming that the last time they had an issue with each other was that minor disagreement they had in the pre-season over play-styles (or at least that’s what the team settled on as the cause—the two of them weren’t about to share and none of the lads were keen on getting their heads bit off for asking so they just waited for it to blow over like it usually does) they’re breaking their longest get-along streak to date. Not that he’s keeping track of them on purpose or anything—he has his own life to be concerned about, thank you—it’s just hard not to, all things considered. And it’s not just for Colin, it’s for everybody—he’d heard through the rumor mill that somebody was keeping a chart, even, but he couldn’t say who because he’d heard the same about Beard, Zoreaux, and O’Brien. The two of them just have a way of making their problems everybody’s problems and most of them, like Colin, are just subjected to this when they would really very much like to take a shower because their own stench is starting to make their eyes water and they have a nice berry scented body wash that they would like to use to get rid of it.
Really, they’re supposed to be celebrating, which is why the timing of this one is extra inconvenient. Roy Kent screaming WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? Isn’t exactly what Colin wanted to hear coming into the dressing room at Wembley after winning the league cup. What he wanted to hear was chanting and speeches and congratulations because Richmond hasn’t won anything in decades—a fact which Jan had helpfully reminded them of as they were exiting the tunnel at the start of the match—and from his point of view they all deserve to feel good about this one, even if it is just the league cup.
Sure they’d been on a hot streak lately—slowly climbing up the table—but nobody had anticipated them beating out Liverpool. And besides, that’s something he’s been working on with his therapist, acknowledging and celebrating his victories. Like when he got his tomato plant to start sprouting or managed to parallel park his Lamborghini when he did the shopping last week. But instead, he and all the other lads are crowded at the entrance listening as Roy angrily asks Jamie why he did “the express fucking thing” that Roy apparently told him not to do before the game (which, yeah, even Colin could have told Roy that he was setting himself up for failure with that one). And Jamie, Colin can tell just from looking at him, just from the curl of his lips and the way he moves his head, saying Jesus fucking christ, Roy while continuing to strip down, is in top form.
With Roy, his prickliness is an accepted part of his personality—consistent and reliable if not always pleasant, a bit like the London weather. Privately, Colin has begun to think of him as a grumpy housecat who you have to work very hard to win over and who is only sometimes affectionate and also will occasionally scratch at you, but is mostly harmless. Knowing how predictable he is really helps in terms of working with his coaching style. The problem with Jamie is that he doesn’t like to work around. He likes to push through, at whatever cost—including pissing off Roy. And if he starts feeling attacked like this, then he’s going to go on the defense, which for him is an offense. He’s like that old nursery rhyme with the rubber and the glue and it ends up being absolutely impossible to talk to him when he’s like this. It’s rare to see it directed at one of them now, but that doesn’t mean that any of them forgot how bad it can get.
The others are all stiff and quiet around him, exchanging glances as the fighting carries on and fatigue from the match sets in. Some of them have given up on listening in and have sat down on the floor, kicking their legs out. Others are leaning against the wall with their arms crossed, waiting for it to be done with already. Isaac’s arm is heavy around his shoulders, and Colin is starting to fidget when he removes it so he can make his way to the front and do his captain’s duty by checking out the scene. They all know better than to interfere (except for maybe Dani, who hates the most for any of his friends to be in conflict), but Colin knows that it makes ‘Saac feel better to be doing something. He just wishes that he had something to do himself that wasn’t just hiding from the force of Roy and Jamie’s RoyAndJamieness, sweating in uncomfortable places, and being a little sore from playing the full 90 (though he was subbed off before extra time).
It had been a good match, too. They’d trailed Liverpool two-nil at the half and then come out swinging, Sam scoring within five minutes of the return and Jamie equalizing on a penalty in stoppage time. And then that absolute screamer of a goal from Jamie that stopped them from going to pens—that’s the one people are going to talk about. Came out of nowhere, it did. In fact, Colin reckons that’s what Jamie and Roy are arguing about, if Jamie’s “that’s the fucking game” is anything to go by. Boyo was a little reckless with that one, taunting the defenders into circling him and then cutting through them like it was nothing. Colin’s actually still not sure how he did it. He remembers looking over and thinking that they were about to lose possession but then the ball flew straight past Alisson, clean into the right corner. Watching Jamie play these days is a bit of a trip like that. Lad got into a bit of a tussle up after but he figures he should be past the point of being surprised by Jamie’s ability to get under other players’ skin. It’s just that sometimes he sees Jamie doing things like that or looking like he is now and it’s hard not to remember when it was himself on the other end of it.
He’s considered talking to the other lads about it before, to see if it’s something that bothers them too but he’s never sure how to bring it up. Like with Sam, him and Jamie are so close now that it would seem weird to dredge it all back up. They even have a little hype man thing they do before games or when they’re going out clubbing and the like. And with ‘Saac it’s tricky because sometimes he wants to tell his friend Isaac something and not team captain Isaac but the lines are kind of blurred when it’s one of their teammates that they’d be talking about. Linda, his therapist, says that he should consider talking to Jamie about it directly but it’s been so long now and the lad’s worked so hard at turning it around that Colin can’t bring himself to do it. So that just means he has to get past it, like everybody else has. Roy included, even it doesn’t seem like it at this exact moment when he’s yelling “FUCK” and grunting at them all to move so he can storm out easier.
The fact is that Roy and Jamie, even though Colin is fairly sure both of them would rather die or knee cap the person asking before admitting it, are relatively close these days. The amount of time they spend together, on and off the pitch, is noticeably high and generally speaking, most things that concern Jamie go through Roy first—the obvious ones associated with the club, like health and training and such, but also when Jamie needs, like, handling, Roy is the one who does the…handling. He’s the only one who can deal with him sometimes. Can talk to him, or make him see reason, or whatever it is he does when Jamie is all… Jamie. Colin’s not sure how it works, really, just that it does. They do still fight sometimes, like this, and they do still talk to each other like they always have, only thing is it’s fond now, closer to banter than anything else, and the fights really aren’t quite so bad anymore…or at least they’re not actively knocking heads and needing to be pulled apart. It's just the dramatics that they keep on with.
It’s a benefit to everybody, honestly, and Colin wouldn’t dream of complaining about it…it’s just that when only one of your coaches is intimately familiar with the sport you play, you kind of wish that coach wouldn’t so obviously have a favorite. Ted and Beard are both amazing and there’s no underplaying how they turned the team around, but they don’t have the same experience as somebody like Roy, who’s a literal legend in the game. Like it would be great if Roy spent just a bit of all that extra time he spends with Jamie to help Colin get his abysmally low dribbling stats up but maybe that’s also one of those things that he needs to ask directly about. “Be assertive,” as it is. Maybe he’ll try catching him at Nelson Road, before he leaves for the night. That’s a good plan, he thinks. He’ll state himself clearly and confidently and this will work. He’ll be assertive. But first he needs a shower. A nice long, hot one so he can bask in the steam for a little bit and loosen his limbs up again.
*
The bus ride back is as expected. Jamie had been the first one on—having already showered and changed by the time the rest of them were still stripping down—and he claimed a seat at the back, as far away from where the coaches normally sit as possible, instead of his usual spot in the middle. But not being in the center hasn’t stopped him from being the center of attention—doing a half decent (and very loud!) job of reviving the celebrations from earlier pretty obviously just to get to Roy, who has told them to quiet down several times now, as he’s supposedly trying to read. “Supposedly” because he thinks that Roy sometimes just brings a book and pretends to read it so that people will leave him alone. It's the same as how he dumps his bag into the seat next to him so that nobody can sit there, which is a shame because Colin has some great recommendations if he likes fantasy, which he thinks he does because he remembers seeing him walk around with A Wrinkle In Time. He also thinks that Roy might benefit from some of the self-help books that Linda has given him but he doesn’t think that those would go over so well with him.
For what it’s worth, the lads usually do simmer down at the gaffer’s request but it doesn’t last long because Jamie kicks it right back up again. It doesn’t help that Ted and Beard have opted not to step in on this one, off in their own little world with their heads bent together (Coach Beard has the tablet out so Colin thinks they’re probably going over the match again), meaning its been alternating periods of cheering and silence, cheering and silence, cheering and silence. They’re in one of the silent parts now and all the lads are trying very hard to look serious as they finally turn on to Nelson Road, but really they all just look a little constipated as they load off the bus. He'll keep an eye out if somebody needs stomach medicine when he gets inside, just in case. He always keeps some on him, like his gran taught him too—individually wrapped so he can keep them in his pockets for easy access. Comes in handy more often than not.
He holds back while the others exit, knowing from past experience that Roy is usually the last one off the bus. It doesn’t take long, renewed interest in a night out being spearheaded by ‘Saac has everybody moving quick. The bus is cleared out within a few minutes, with just a few lads who have bags to grab lingering outside. The only people left inside are himself, Roy, and Jamie and he’s just waiting for Jamie to leave to make his move. Problem is, he’s not moving. He’s just looking over at Roy and scrunching his face up like he sometimes does when he’s thinking.
A few more moments and Colin’s feeling resigned to just having to leave himself. He wants to do this now, because if he has to wait a couple of days until they’re all back here then he’ll lose his courage completely, but if it’s just not happening then it’s not happening and if that’s the case then he wants to get home and check on his plants before going out—the little herb garden he keeps in the window above his kitchen sink is going to be due for its watering. He sighs and goes to get up, but before he can Jamie is up and making his way to the front—sliding all the way back into the seat behind Roy’s and draping his arms over the back of the seat in from of him so that he can rest his head on them. Colin should be annoyed at Jamie taking his moment, but he’s more upset that neither of them seem to notice that he’s still on the bus.
It hurts a little, feeling invisible like that. And maybe that’s part of the problem—because Colin has felt like that a lot lately, since the team started doing well. Not personally, like now, usually, but professionally he does tend to feel overlooked. With today’s match for example, he knows that Jamie’s performance is going to dominate any conversation had about it. No mention of how Colin had the assist on Sam’s goal or how he played the full 90’, save a few comments from the Lads and Ted. And he knows he’s not their best player—he’s not expecting to be heaped with praise or anything—but just a little acknowledgement would be nice. And sometimes, if he’s honest with himself, that comment from Nate still sticks. You do the job, he’d said, so do the job. But what if he wants to do the job well?
At the front, Roy isn't reacting at all to Jamie’s presence. They’re positioned so that Colin can’t see their faces, but it's clear to him that Roy is ignoring Jamie, or at least trying to. He starts wondering if he should attempt to leave before Jamie forces a reaction out of Roy but he spends so long debating it with himself that before he knows it that’s exactly what’s happening.
He cringes as soon as he hears the words come out of Jamie’s mouth.“I’m gonna spit my gum out into your book if you don’t stop pretending to read.” Yeah, that’ll do it.
Roy turns his head around to face Jamie and says, “No. You’re not. You’re not going to fucking do that.” Then he turns right back around.
Jamie, undeterred as ever, wastes no time replying, “Might though.” And at that Roy slams his book shut, and Colin swears he can hear the clap echo. He’s surprised the book didn’t go flying from the force of it.
“Yeah, you might. Because you’re rude, and you’re insolent, and you’re a fucking menace to society,” Roy responds, and it's just a little funny how Colin can see him moving around from here as he talks. The amount of force he’s putting into staying upset is ridiculous. He might even be using the book as some type of pointer to emphasize his words.
What’s unexpected is Jamie’s response. The calm, unbothered, “Yeah, I am,” doesn’t fit with what Colin knows to be the pattern of their arguments. Jamie usually gives just as good as he gets, if not better—though on his end he's not prone to anger and he's quick to cool. If Colin thinks about it, that's probably why he does so well in his position. He can get others worked up and then be done with it as soon as its started. No emotional commitment on his end or maybe he just doesn't like to give in to bad feelings in general. Makes it hard to keep him down. That being said he’s still not somebody you want to get into a scrap with, physical or verbal. If you’re Colin Hughes, that is. If you’re Roy Kent, apparently, it’s different.
Facing forwards again, he takes another swing with “And you’re a stupid idiot boy,” though this one is stated little more matter-of-factly than before. Less heat to it, Colin thinks. Or maybe he’s just imagining that part in his new found desperation to get off this bus. He might need a stomach tablet himself, actually, if this keeps on.
A little head nod from Jamie confirms it. “Course,” he says and it’s that one that has Roy turning his head back towards Jamie. Not that it makes much of a difference to Colin, who is getting too well acquainted overall with the back of Roy’s head. He can tell exactly where the grey hairs are starting to come up on him, which isn’t information that he wants or needs but on the plus he thinks it's a look that'll work well for Roy like it does Trent Crimm.
“And you need to learn to listen when people are telling you things that are for your own fucking good.”
Jamie hums a little. “Yeah. Guess somebody will just have to teach me that last bit.”
Roy grunts and there’s no mistaking the warmth in his voice when he tells Jamie to help him up, and yeah, that’s that then. Jamie is pulling Roy up and grabbing his bag for him all while giving him shit for being an old man with a fucked up knee. It doesn't slip Colin that he would get headbutted if he tried anything similar but then again the whole interaction was so exhausting, even as a watcher, that he'll count his blessings. There are benefits to being on the outside—but maybe it's all about balance. He'll ask his therapist about it tomorrow.