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Jamie hated being sick. It fucked with his routine, and he was precise about his routine. He had to be, how else would he have made it from his council estate in Manchester to being one of the best players in the Prem? People had thought a lot about Jamie, but people rarely insisted that he wasn’t a hard worker. That doesn’t mean they weren’t always demanding more from him.
His father was the main exception. He told Jamie he was lazy all the fucking time. It drove him insane. Because, really, how was Jamie the lazy one out of the two of them? He had never depended on his father for anything, he had to work for what he had. His father was not one to coddle, and if Jamie hadn’t made it as a footballer, his dad certainly wouldn’t have provided any kind of home or education for Jamie. He wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him.
All this was to say that Jamie didn’t like disruption to his routine. He had a schedule of rest days and cheat meals scattered in his pretty regimented exercise and diet plan. Sickness forced him to rest more, missing out on those exercises. It was whatever, usually. He would reset, work a little harder when he was feeling better. Usually, he was pretty good at taking a break when his body told him too.
Usually.
It was just that…well, Zava. Roy had just started training Jamie, and Jamie couldn’t fuck that up. He had to beat Zava, prove his worth, and earn his spot. They had just been promoted, too. He needed to prove Richmond’s worth. All those fans, cheering them on, it would all be for naught if they got relegated again. He didn’t want to be sent away again now either, not when he finally started to feel like he was forming some sort of family at Richmond. Zava was already fucking with that. Which brought him back to the first thought, he had to be better than Zava. He had to train. He had to keep going, sickness be damned.
So, when Jamie woke up at 3:30 with a spinning head and uncontrollable shivers, he only gave it three seconds of thought before he pushed himself out of bed to get ready for the day.
Underlying everything, deep in Jamie’s heart, was the unrelenting need to do what Roy says, impress Roy, make Roy happy, and that was taking a toll on him as well. He’d do almost anything Roy said to him, and he would do it with everything he got. Possibly to a concerning degree.
His stomach was uneasy, but he still managed his protein shake, knowing better than to go without it. By the time Roy showed up, Jamie had already started his warm-up stretching. Roy didn’t say much, grunted a brief hello, watching as Jamie worked through his warm-up routine. He nodded occasionally, but still didn’t say anything. After that, Roy had him jog over to the park where he put him through the usual paces of conditioning. Every week he seemed to come up with more and more insane methods. Jamie wasn’t one to complain, though, Roy knew what was best for him, he was helping Jamie get better. Even if this was absolute shit right now.
One more burpee, and Jamie just wanted the world to stop spinning. One more burpee, and Jamie had snot dripping down his throat. One more burpee, and Jamie’s head was trying to implode on him. One more burpee, and Jamie was going to projectile vomit all over Roy’s shoes. One more burpee, and Jamie was going to pass out, he was fucking burning up.
He could tell he was slowing down, and Roy was getting agitated. It pissed him off because he was frustrated too. He just had to be better. He had to be better and beat Zava, so no one would get rid of him, so the lads would like him again, so that he could stay at Richmond with his friends, with his family. He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t even know where “back” was anymore. He wasn’t wanted anywhere. He couldn’t fuck it up, he couldn’t fuck it up, he couldn’t fu-
“Jesus, Tartt, don’t you want to be better than Zava? If you want to fucking slack off, I don’t mind fucking off back home. Move your ass,” Roy said, the most words he’d spoken to Jamie all morning.
Now he really wanted to throw up.
He paused, “Sorry, Roy, I’m just tired this morning, that’s all.”
“We don’t have time for you to be ‘tired.’ Laps. Now. Until I tell you to fucking stop.”
“Yes, Coach,” Jamie grumbled, before starting on the usual route around the outside of the park.
He was genuinely tired, and now he felt strangely guilty for it, like he wasn’t working hard enough. He didn’t want Roy to think he was slacking because all he did was try. He literally was dedicating all his time to football. He was training all day, he had no time for anything else but football, football, football. He didn’t even see the lads anymore…which, well, he didn’t want to be around Zava and Jamie…well, Jamie hadn’t really gotten a real invitation in a while.
He was only halfway through his second lap, but he was already dead tired, his head was pounding, his stomach hurt, his nose was runny, and his eyes were already watery prior to the realization that he was about to burst into tears. Three more steps, and he was vomiting his protein shake all down the front of his body.
That really sucked because he hadn’t thrown up since the first couple days that Roy had trained him. Usually Roy let him stop and swish a bit of water through his mouth before he just made him keep going. He didn’t want to stop though, he was fine, or…well, he wasn’t fine but he was already balls deep in this fiasco.
He was just finishing his second lap when he saw Roy start to stand up. He slowed down.
“Are you going home?” Jamie asked in half a panic. “I’m going as fast as I can, swear down, it’s just like, I’m sick, and me body don’t seem to be working.”
“Jamie, you’re running around with sick down the front of your fucking jacket.”
Jamie looked down, before scrunching up his nose. Yeah, that was kind of foul. He took a deep breath to tell Roy he was a bit sick, but all that did was get the scent of puke deep up his nose. That had him immediately keeling over and throwing up, all over Roy Kent’s shoes.
“Shit!” Roy yelled, taking a step back.
Jamie wasn’t even done before the apologies were spilling from his lips. “Sorry, sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, Roy, I didn’t mean to do that, I think I’m sick and I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey, Tartt- Jamie, it’s okay,” Roy said, drawing him into a hug and all Jamie could think about was that Roy was now covered in his vomit. He tried to get away, but Roy gripped him tightly until Jamie collapsed against him like his strings were cut. “I’m not fucking upset with you, Jamie, it’s okay. I’m sorry you don’t feel good.”
“I’m sorry,” Jamie sniffled. “I’m so tired.”
“I bet you are, sweetheart,” Roy murmured, pressing a hand to the back of his head, running his fingers gently over the nape of his neck. “You’re warm.”
Jamie pulled back, wiping under his eyes and nose, and his mouth, for good measure. His body felt warm, both from the fever and the additional flush that had risen after Roy’s mistaken “sweetheart.” He just wanted to go home and cuddle in bed.
“Do you want me to keep running, Coach?” Jamie asked.
“Fuck no,” Roy said. “I’m taking you home, I’m putting you to bed, I’m giving you meds, and then you are going to eat something and go back to sleep. Maybe a fucking shower in there, too, you reek.”
“Piss off, it’s not my fault.”
Roy rolled his eyes but started walking back in the direction of Jamie’s house. Jamie scrambled to follow, and they walked in silence back to his home. When they got inside, Roy ushered Jamie up the steps to the bathroom.
“Give me your clothes, I’ll start the wash,” Roy said.
“If you wanted to get me naked, all ya had to do was ask, Roy-o,” Jamie smirked.
“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to be nice, you prick.”
“I were just saying…,” Jamie said, widening his smile.
Roy didn’t bother responding, just levelled him with a classic Roy glare.
“Sheesh, okay, man, stop it with the eyes, I’ll give you me knickers,” Jamie huffed.
Roy didn’t stop staring, which became slightly odd as Jamie started to undress himself, tossing his clothes at Roy as he took them off. When Jamie was down to just his pants, Roy nodded at him before turning and walking away with his clothes.
After he was gone, Jamie turned the shower just to the right side of scalding. The first few minutes he just stood there, letting the shower combat the fever chills that were wracking his body. It also helped ease the weight in his head from the snot and the stupid fucking headache.
He dragged himself through his hair routine, taking his time, letting the heat ease his muscles. By the time he was done conditioning, his head felt fuzzy, and there was gray around the edges of his vision, and oh, shit, yeah he was gonna black out.
In order to avoid braining himself, he let his body slump down until his ass hit the shower floor and his head fell back against the wall. It made him less dizzy, but the threat of blacking out was still very present. Jamie didn’t have the energy to call for Roy, so he lifted his hand and groped around for the shampoo bottle before throwing it as hard as he was capable of at the moment. It hit the door with a reasonably loud sound, and a few minutes later, Roy was pounding up the stairs.
“I swear to God if you slipped and broke your neck, Tartt,” Roy said, opening the door. “Oh, shit, are you okay? You didn’t break your neck, did you?”
“Fuck off, I feel,” Jamie paused, because talking was fucking exhausted. “I feel light-headed. Can you turn off the shower thingy?”
Roy reached into the shower and turned off the water before tossing a towel at Jamie’s prone body.
“If I help you up, do you think you’ll vomit on me?” Roy asked.
“Most likely not. I don’t think there’s that much in my body anymore.”
“If you feel like you’re going to puke, let me know.”
Jamie nodded, but the feeling made his head spin again. Roy leaned down, trying to situate the towel over Jamie’s dick, which would probably be a little more embarrassing if Jamie was more lucid. It was just whatever, now.
Once he gave up trying to figure that out, Roy stuck his hands under Jamie’s arms.
“Standing up, now, Tartt,” Roy said, hauling him up to his feet.
He got him semi-successfully onto his feet, two steps were made, and then he was collapsing back into Roy, vision blacking for a moment.
“Woah, woah, Jamie,” Roy said, lowering him back down to the floor, resting his back against the bathroom counter.
Roy slumped down on the floor next to Jamie, and Jamie laid his head on Roy’s shoulder. Roy sighed before giving Jamie a little pat on the thigh.
“You always make everything a fucking challenge, huh?” Roy asked.
“I don’t mean to!” Jamie whined. “Just happens.”
“Unlucky bastard.”
Jamie curled a bit more into Roy as the room continued spinning around him. He just wanted it to stop. He already felt like shit, and now he felt like he wasn’t even present. And he had his head on Roy Kent’s shoulder! He would be relishing this moment at any other time. He just couldn’t enjoy it right now.
He felt tears sliding down his face before he even realised what was happening.
“Roy,” Jamie sobbed.
“What, what’s wrong?” Roy asked, panic creeping into his voice.
“No, it’s just. Do you think I don’t work hard?”
“Not work hard? You?” Roy scoffed. “Jamie, I know we have a fucking…complicated dynamic, but I have never once thought you weren’t a hard worker. Fucking hated you when you first came to Richmond, but I didn’t think you didn’t deserve to be there, just wish you would have appreciated that shit more, the team, the opportunity, your fucking youth, or whatever.”
“Yeah, I’m just. I’m so tired, Roy, I’m just exhausted, I feel like shit, the room is spinning, and I bet this shit doesn’t happen to fucking Zava.”
Roy stilled a bit. “Zava is really fucking with your head, huh?”
“He’s such a fucking prick! I know I’m being hypocritical, but he gets to do whatever he wants and everyone worships the ground he walks on, it’s so stupid. And everyone wants him around.”
“Jamie, people want you around, too.”
Jamie choked around a new round of tears. “C’mon, mate. They don’t. I fuck up once, or backslide, that’s it, Lasso will cut me loose.”
“No, fuck,” Roy said. “No one is going to get rid of you. I wouldn’t let that shit happen.”
“I-,” Jamie started.
“Richmond ‘til we die, Tartt,” Roy murmured.
“Yeah, okay,” Jamie said, wiping at his eyes.
“I think it’s time to get you into bed. Can you stand?”
“Sure, I can make it like ten feet.”
“Stop being a smartass. You blacked out on me last time.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Okay, Jamie.”
Roy helped him back to his feet, and they made their way slowly to Jamie’s large bed. It had never looked more inviting. He collapsed into the sheets, and Roy immediately tucked him in all nice.
“Where’s your thermometer?”
“Downstairs bathroom. Meds, too.”
“I’ll get those things, then we’ll see about getting some food back in you.”
“Okay, Roy-o.”
Roy lingered by the bedroom door.
“Jamie?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I want you around.”
Oh Roy, Jamie thought, that is worth everything.