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Jamie isn’t quite sure how he got here.
Not, like, literally. Roy didn’t bang him up that badly. He’s got a bloody nose and beer all down his fifth favourite jumper, but he’s had worse hits to the head, and he doesn’t think his nose is even broken or anything.
No, what he means is, he doesn’t know why he’s here; here being sitting at Keeley’s dining table, bloodstained tissue in hand, with Roy sitting opposite, frozen peas on his head (Jamie would like it known that he gave as good as he got, thank you very much). Keeley’s looking between the two of them with her eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation, and all Jamie can think is I don’t know. They’d been having a nice evening. Everything had been fine, and then it wasn’t.
Jamie doesn’t feel like he at any point made a decision, really, to turn into his prickiest version of himself. It just sort of happened, automatic like.
Leaning back in her chair, Keeley eventually says, “Alright. You gonna tell me what happened? Did you… stop a mugging? Rescue some puppies from a burning building?”
Jamie looks to Roy. Roy just waves a hand, like, go on, so he crosses his arms and admits, “We got in a fight about you.”
“What?”
“We got in a fist fight over who gets to be with you,” confirms Roy, dropping the bag of peas to the table.
There’s a pause. Keeley seems to be frozen in her seat, eyes wide, but not the way she looks when she’s excited. This looks more like dear-in-the-headlights, or whatever the phrase is.
Roy looks to Jamie again, seems to expect some input, some further explanation, but Jamie finds himself stuck under her disbelieving expression. It’s like all the embarrassment and shame that had been held off by Jamie’s indignant anger suddenly collapses over him, weighing on his shoulders, causing him to slouch down further into his seat.
Clearing his throat, Roy perseveres. “We just thought, what are we, Neanderthals? So we came up with a better idea.”
“Please don’t say it,” Keeley mumbles, seemingly braced for impact.
“You should just pick-”
Jamie blurts, “Wait.”
He can feel eyes turn on him - can imagine Roy’s suspicious, irritated expression, eyebrows all squished up, and Keeley, watching him with that expectant look - but he can’t quite bring himself to look at them. Jamie fiddles with his sleeves. He takes a deep breath, then another.
“Go on, then,” Roy says.
Jamie clears his throat. “Yeah, so… um. I don’t actually like you?” Then, hearing what he’s just said, his eyes snap up to Keeley’s face, meeting her shocked eyes. He feels himself flush. “Not- Not like, I don’t like you, obviously I like you, you’re great-”
“Jamie,” she says.
“I just don’t like you like that, romantic like. I mean… yeah.”
Roy shifts forward in his seat, and Jamie shifts back instinctively, like magnets when they’re pointing the wrong way. “Then what the fuck was all this about?” questions Roy, pointing vaguely at his torn shirt and the bag of peas slowly defrosting on the table.
“I dunno,” says Jamie, and he knows he sounds like a petulant kid, but he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know why he was such a dick about it. If he had any answers, he would offer them up without hesitation.
“So, let me get this straight,” Keeley says slowly. “You two got in a fight about me, over who gets to date me, and you came here to ask me to choose between you. Except Jamie doesn’t want to date me. So…what were you fighting over, exactly?”
“Excellent fucking question,” states Roy, and suddenly Jamie can remember why he started fighting him, now that Roy’s looking at him like that again, all superiority, like Jamie’s an idiot and Roy has all the answers.
“Because he was being a right bastard!” Jamie bursts out.
Roy lets out a mean little laugh. “Right, I was being a bastard. Right. Is this some kind of- fucking tactic, make me look bad in front of Keeley?”
“Mate, what,” says Jamie. “Are you joking? I’m not that fucking machieven- machievil-”
“Machiavellian?” suggests Keeley.
Jamie points at her. “Yeah, that! I’m not fucking plotting your demise or something.”
"If it's not that, can you explain what it was about?" Roy asks, sounding like it's taking every last inch of his patience not to leap over Keeley's very nice dining table to headbutt him. Again.
"Right, well, you were telling me to back off from Keeley, and that just pissed me off. Not because I was trying to get back with Keeley, I wasn't-" Jamie turns to her, hoping his sincerity showed on his face "-because I think you're amazing, and hot obviously, but I've really liked just being mates? And I actually really like being single, y'know, and not having to do all the romance stuff-"
"I get it," Keeley says, smiling just a little. "I like being your friend, too."
Jamie all but slumps in relief. He'd been worried she'd be upset. Like, what if Keeley did like him (understably, because he's sexy, and also like, not a horrible person anymore) and was hurt that he didn't like her back? That would have sucked. "Okay, good, cheers. So, yeah, it wasn't 'cause I'm into Keeley or nothing. I just don't think you should be telling other blokes - or ladies, actually - to back off when you and Keels aren't even dating."
"Well," reasons Keeley, "that's a fair point."
Jamie perks up.
"I mean, next time you should probably explain that, rather than picking a fight," she adds.
He drops back down again. "I know. Sorry, Keels." Then, at her beseeching look, he says, "Sorry, Roy."
Roy grunts.
"What, you're not going to apologise?" asks Jamie, because he's never known when to stop picking at a scab.
"You're the one who started it," Roy snaps, which is just immature, innit. Phoebe's more mature than that, and she's still a baby.
"That's so not the point," Jamie complains.
Roy turns to Keeley, like he's expecting her to back him up.
Keeley throws her hands up. "Actually, Roy, I think this is one you can sort out with your therapist."
"I don't have a therapist."
"Yeah," she sighs, "that might be your problem."
“Look, we’ll get out of your hair now, yeah?” decides Jamie. “Sorry for turning up without warning.”
“I don’t mind,” says Keeley. “You can knock on my door whenever, if you want to hang out without, y’know, any dramatic ultimatums.”
“Yeah, class,” says Jamie. Roy doesn’t seem to acknowledge this; he’s staring down at the grain of the wooden table like it might hold the answers. “Come on, grandad,” Jamie loudly announces. “Time to go.”
Roy doesn’t really answer, but he does finally stand up, not really looking at anyone. Quietly, he offers, “Do you want me to put the peas back in the freezer?”
“You can keep them,” says Keeley.
“Right. Uh, thanks. Sorry.”
“Bye, Roy,” Keeley says pointedly, and this seems to be enough to convince Roy that it’s time to leave. They shuffle out into the dark, and Keeley firmly shuts the door behind them.
Jamie takes a breath of cool night air, rocking on his heels, unsure what exactly he’s supposed to do now, what to say. He can’t read Roy, who’s standing there like he’s carved out of marble.
Just as Jamie opens his mouth to say something - probably something stupid and antagonistic, anything to break the silence - Roy declares, “I don’t need a therapist.”
Jamie tucks his hands under the hem of his shirt. “I do.”
“What?”
“I still see Doctor Sharon. She’s been helping me with some stuff, like with my dad.”
Roy glances at him, not as subtle as he thinks. “Okay. Well that’s… good.”
“I can send you her number if you like,” Jamie offers hesitantly.
He loudly clears his throat. “If you want, I can’t stop you.”
Roy could, of course, if he wanted to - could easily block Jamie’s number - but Jamie magnanimously allows him to pretend.
“Alright. Sure. Great.” A beat of silence, a fraction less awkward than the last, until Jamie asks, “Are you hungry?”
“Well, you're still in training, but you can watch me eat a kebab,” says Roy, and any remaining tenson breaks; they’re alright. Tonight may have turned out to be a bit of a mess, but they’re still mates. Jamie’s still Roy’s best friend (even though Roy obviously isn’t his).
Roy turns away, and Jamie says, in his most sullen, petulant voice, “I’m having chicken.”
Without turning around, Roy sticks up his middle finger. Jamie smiles.
Yeah, they’re gonna be alright.