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Jamie’s foot connects with the ball and Roy knows immediately it’s going to be a goal, it’s a kick that reaffirms that every minute Jamie spends on a pitch is his destiny, that his right foot really was kissed by God. A satisfied thrill shoots through Roy’s chest and it feels like the universe coming back into alignment, like Jamie as poetry in motion is the natural order of the world and these last weeks of him being overshadowed by Zava were spit in God’s eye. Jamie is meant to score goals and Roy is meant to watch it and feel proud and awed. The skill Jamie possessed when they were teammates and at each other’s throats may have made Roy question his faith, but now to witness it overtakes him with the urge to pray and offer thanks. Something settles in his chest at the idea that Jamie will no longer have zero goals this season, like his soul is saying ‘there, now everything is right with the world’. And, look, he’s not great at feelings but he’s also not an idiot and he is aware that all that shit probably means he’s fucking in love with Jamie Tartt of all fucking people, but it’s not like he can help it when he looks like that with a football under his control.
The ball sails toward the goal.
And Zava blips into Roy’s awareness and into the ball’s path and taps it the fuck into the goal himself.
On instinct, Roy cheers - part of his brain knowing that the goal was important, that it wins this game for them - but his vision simultaneously whites out with rage and he feels his head violently blue screen in disbelief and with the overwhelming urge to murder his own star player. Distantly, he sees Zava celebrating the stolen goal with the team, but his attention is on Jamie and the feelings chasing each other across his face.
Yeah, Roy isn’t going to let this shit fucking stand. Zava can well and truly go fuck himself.
-
“I waited all fucking night for you to do the right thing and pull him into your office and have some fucking words with him and you never fucking did,” Jamie hears Roy shout from inside Ted’s office and he pauses in the doorway to the darkened changing room. Ted’s door is wide open - the sound quality is crystal clear - because it’s late and they definitely thought they were basically alone in the building. He spends a microsecond having a crisis on the morality of eavesdropping before he thinks fuck it and ducks into Roy’s dark office. Roy continues, “There was no fucking reason for him to fucking do that except to swing his dick around and keep the fucking spotlight on him,” and that’s his angriest angry voice before he starts well and truly yelling and Jamie can picture the way he’s absolutely jabbing a pointed finger in Ted’s face. He sits down on the floor by the open office door, practically dying with curiosity at what set Roy off. “He stole that goal from Jamie and you’re just going to let him?”
The floor falls out from underneath Jamie. Roy is defending Jamie. Roy is giving Ted the dressing down to end all dressing downs and throwing Zava under the bus to defend Jamie. And he’s still going, doesn’t give Ted even a moment to get a word in edgewise.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he snarls, sounding genuinely disgusted. “It’s so fucking hypocritical I can’t stand it. What happened to the coach who sent Jamie back to Manchester for being half the prick this arsehole is? Jamie was fucking trying, he did your stupid ghost ceremony, didn’t he? And you still fucking kicked him to the curb for not being a team player. But Zava gets to act like fucking that on the pitch and you and the lads all just do his bullshit cult leader meditation and give him all the free passes he fucking needs to treat his teammates like fucking set dressing.”
Something dark and complicated and grateful is clawing at Jamie’s chest and he’s horrified to realize he might start crying if Roy keeps going, keeps shouting out the very injustices that have been tormenting Jamie while he’s trying to sleep every night since Zava joined the team. He feels horrifyingly seen, noticed, cared for, protected and he might not be able to stand it a moment longer, knowing that Roy somehow has insight into Jamie’s soft underbelly, all the places Jamie has no armor and in the face of that insight has decided to step in and be Jamie’s armor.
“You’re the one who has always, always put the lads and the culture of this team ahead of winning and that is why I fucking work for you, it’s why the lads stay when they get better offers. You know I’ve seen the kinds of offers Jamie gets and he is still here, he chooses to stay here because of you and you're throwing that loyalty in his fucking face every time you let Zava behave so much worse than the ways you’ve punished Jamie for behaving.
“Jamie was a petulant child trying to become a man after being fucking abused by his fuckface father and that doesn’t make it okay that he was a prick but Jamie’s grown up, he’s a good man and a great teammate. Zava is fucking ancient, has had more time than Jamie to learn to act right, and he isn’t either of those fucking things and Jamie is worth ten of him and yet Zava is the one you keep giving special treatment.”
There’s a long moment of tense silence and Jamie is very busy trying not to have an aneurysm. He actually pinches himself to check it’s not a dream but he already knows it isn’t because even in his favorite Roy dreams Roy doesn’t value him like this. Doesn’t value him like worth-ten-Zavas, like risking his job to tear Ted a new arsehole in honor of Jamie. Jamie has never felt better understood, never felt like someone was plucking all of the thoughts and feelings out of his head and not just validating them but insisting he hadn’t gone far enough and deserves even better treatment than he had dared to dream of. Until this moment. Until Roy going to bat for him against their boss and the greatest football player on earth. Part of him, his ego maybe, is cringing (something something the mortifying ordeal of being known, he thinks wryly) but another, more important part of him, his heart maybe, is vibrating and incandescent in his chest (something something the rewards of being loved).
“You’ll fix this or I’m fucking done and I’m telling Jamie to move to a team where he’s valued,” Roy says finally and his voice is quieter now, low and dangerous and vibrating with conviction.
And, oh, Jamie loves him, has loved him in one way or another since the poster on his wall, but he really loves him now and he feels it crack his heart open with the force of it.
He starts to stand up, to go into Ted’s office to kiss Roy or beg Ted not to fire him for talking to him like that or something but then Ted speaks. “You’re right,” Ted says, quiet and solemn. Jamie shakes his head like there’s water in his ears he needs to clear, not believing he heard him right. “You’re right,” Ted says again with more conviction and Jamie imagines Roy probably looks as gobsmacked as Jamie feels. “I need to think about how to go forward, but you’re right, Roy, that I’ve been hypocritical and that’s not the kind of coach I try to be. You and I will talk to Beard and Nate tomorrow about how Zava will fit into this team from now on and Jamie will get an apology from me. And, heck, so will you: I’m sorry you had to yell at me to get me to get my head on straight.” He’s trying to sound like he’s joking, but Jamie hears genuine chastisement.
“What the fuck ever, I fucking love yelling,” Roy responds but he sounds surprised and relieved and that gives Jamie permission to be relieved. The tension drains out of him and he realizes that Roy isn’t going to get in trouble for this. Jamie isn’t going to get in trouble for this. Ted is on his side. Tears immediately start dumping down his cheeks and he has to suck in a startled sob. Weeks of feeling shunted aside, of feeling lesser than, of hurt, of feeling left out and forgotten and how fucking small it had all made him feel lift off of his shoulders.
“You’re just… agreeing with me?” Roys asks and he sounds absolutely dumbfounded, had probably been all geared up for a knock down drag out.
“Well, Roy, in amongst all the F bombs you made a very compelling argument. Not to mention that not only does Jamie deserve better, he’s been very graceful about not gettin’ it. Didn’t even say a word today after that goal.” Here Ted sighs and Jamie feels the atmosphere change. “Listen, though, Roy, I’m not trying to argue anything about this season, but I just think you oughta know. I never wanted to send Jamie away, Rebecca did that without my say so. In fact, she and I had something of a tiff over it at the time. Come to find out, she hired me and let Man City recall Jamie trying to sabotage the team to get back at Rupert. Obviously she’s not doing that anymore, but at the time. Just… I would’ve kept him if I’d had my way. Just so the record’s straight.”
Jamie holds his breath for the long moment it takes Roy to react to that, desperate for a clue as to how he should react to that. “Right, okay,” Roy says and he sounds surprisingly matter of fact. “I’ve loved this job and I thank you for it. I’m going to Rebecca’s office and since she is not as laid back as you I’m probably going to get fucking fired. Hope the rest of the season goes well.” Jamie hears abrupt movement and then Roy is passing by the doorway he’s sitting by.
Jamie jumps to his feet and takes off after him, vaguely registering beating Ted to the door as the coach also made an attempt to follow Roy. Ted halts in his tracks, surprised and then smiling, and doesn't follow Jamie into the hallway. Jamie catches up to Roy in a few quick strides - Roy was doing his angry terminator walk which isn’t especially fast. Jamie wraps a hand around his bicep - Bare skin! Touching Roy’s actual skin!, his hindbrain starts screaming - and bodily shoves him through the boot room door.
Roy tenses up and starts to cock back a fist as Jamie manhandles him before his eyes land on Jamie’s face and he realizes who has him. The fight goes out of him in an instant, his muscles going lax under Jamie’s hand. Something in Jamie wants to curl up and purr with satisfaction at the unthinking trust Roy has just given him.
They stumble into the room together and wind up face to face, closer than they would normally stand if Jamie hadn’t just been throwing Roy around. They scowl at each other and Jamie snaps, “Don’t get fuckin’ fired over me, mate. Don’t be fucking stupid.”
Jamie watches several incomprehensible emotions flit across Roy’s face as he realizes and processes that Jamie has heard everything he said. “Why the fuck not?” he snaps back after just a moment’s hesitation. “Rebecca fucked you over.”
Jamie rolls his eyes before he can stop himself. “But I don’t give a shit, Coach. Can relate a bit to doing something destructive because some fucking man hurt you, can’t I?” He lifts a sardonic eyebrow at Roy. “Not sure if you saw me on a certain reality show.”
Another incomprehensible emotion makes Roy’s mouth twist. “Heard something about that, yeah.”
“So leave it out, yeah? As far as I’m concerned, Ms. Welton and I are good. Ancient history.” He shrugs. “I got back here, didn’t I? No harm done.”
Roy growls and Jamie watches him wrestle with dropping it. He opens and closes his mouth about ten times, scowling darkly.
“Besides,” Jamie says, deciding to throw him a lifeline. “I’d say you did enough fighting for me honor for one night, eh Roy?” He means it to be teasing but it comes out all soft and quiet and he could quite literally strangle himself.
Shocking Jamie to his very core, a blush tinges Roy’s cheeks and he stops being able to meet Jamie’s eyes. “You heard all that shit, then?” he mutters.
Jamie beams at him even if Roy isn’t looking at him to see it. The warmth of Roy’s safeguarding him so staunchly when he wasn’t even there to see it, that he must then have really meant it, settles back around Jamie. He reaches out to give Roy’s shoulder a gentle shove. And decides to give back some of what he’s been given. “Yeah. That shit is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.” He waits for Roy’s gaze to snap back up to meet his. It does - immediately - just as he had known it would. “Ever,” he repeats when they’re holding steady eye contact.
Roy swallows. Jamie realizes Roy Kent looks scared and feels the world tilt a little on its axis. “Yeah, well,” Roy says slowly, haltingly like he has to force out every word, “I’m in fucking love with you, aren’t I?”
Something is happening in Jamie’s chest. Fireworks. Earthquake. Heart attack. All of the above, maybe. “Fuck you,” he chokes out, “I was gonna say it first, you dick.” Tears prick at his eyes and his body sways toward Roy without his permission.
Roy laughs and smiles - the big one, the realest one - and the way it crinkles his eyes changes his whole face and Jamie really, really loves him. He steps forward, fully into Jamie’s space. Their chests brush and Jamie feels magnetized to him. Roy leans in and their noses brush and Jamie is frozen, hypnotized by the knowledge that they’re sharing breaths and any minute they’ll be kissing. “Too fucking bad. Say it second, then,” Roy murmurs.
Jamie tears his eyes from Roy’s mouth to meet his eyes, realizes through the haze that he should probably be looking at him for this. “Fucking love you, Roy,” he says and he sounds pathetically earnest but it must do something for Roy because it punches this strangled noise out of him.
And then Roy Kent - Roy Kent, who LOVES HIM - is kissing him and the rest of the world and the rest of Jamie’s thoughts white out of existence. It’s an agonizingly slow, agonizingly tender drag of lips and Roy is holding his face in his hands like it’s fragile, like it’s worth protecting, like it’s worth care. Like Jamie is worth all that. And in this moment, with his arms around Roy and a love confession still ringing in his ears and Roy’s knight in shining armor moment still rattling his soul, Jamie believes that he is.