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Jamie wakes up freezing.
And like, it’s winter, innit, so that wouldn’t be unusual, except that he’s Jamie fuckin’ Tartt and he runs hot all the time. It’s why he sleeps with no pants on, right?
So Jamie wakes up freezing, and every bone in his body hurts, but not like usual. Because usually he’s pretty sore and his muscles ache, but in a good, satisfying kind of way.
Right now, he just hurts.
He manages to slap at his alarm. It turns off, and Jamie knows he should get up, but all he can do is huddle closer to his comforter and try to stop shivering.
He hears Roy get up, and a shot of adrenaline runs down his spine. Because he’s not soft. He can get up and train, even if he’s a little cold and a little sore. He can.
Except that he can’t, even though the anxiety is churning in his gut so hard it’s making him nauseous. Jamie lays in the dark and chants get up, get up, get up .
But he doesn’t.
Roy’s footsteps leave the bathroom, and Jamie tenses as he pauses outside Jamie’s room.
Roy knocks lightly on his door. Jamie wants to duck under his comforter and hide.
The door creaks open, and Jamie squeezes his eyes shut against the light. His whole brain feels like it’s been shoved into a blender and then frozen, but like, wrong, so it’s all fuzzy with ice.
“Oi, Tartt,” and Roy is coming closer and Jamie is going to throw up .
“Jamie?”
Roy sits on Jamie’s bed, and Jamie flinches because he can feel Roy’s hand coming towards his face even though his eyes are still screwed tight.
But Roy doesn’t hit him. And part of Jamie feels dumb for being scared that he would. But the part of Jamie that is all blended and freezer-burnt is so relieved that he nearly cries.
Roy’s hand is cool on his forehead. Jamie leans into it, and can’t help the soft sound that escapes him.
“Hey, muppet,” Roy says, and it’s his Phoebe voice, the one he uses when she’s sick or when Keeley’s on her period and crying ‘cause of the cramps.
Jamie didn’t think Roy would ever use it for him . It makes him feel snappish and tense and small.
“Can train,” Jamie murmurs without actually ever opening his eyes. “Jus’ give me a sec.”
Roy snorts. He brushes Jamie’s sweaty bangs off his face and then keeps running a hand through Jamie’s hair. It’s so nice .
“I’m calling off training today,” Roy says, still soft. “It’s a rest day for both of us, alright?”
And Jamie’s not stupid, okay, he knows that Roy is just saying that ‘cause if he just leaves Jamie here then Jamie will eventually get up and do their training anyway.
But not having to make that choice, for that decision to be taken out of his hands by his coach –
Jamie nods and relaxes into his mattress, sighing softly when Roy rubs at his temples.
“You know you have a fucking fever, right?” Roy says.
“Mmhmm,” Jamie says, although he’s not really sure. But probably. And if Roy’s saying it, then it’s right.
“Does anything else hurt?”
And now that Roy says it, Jamie’s stomach is still churning uncomfortably, even though he’s not scared or anything anymore, and his head is pounding even though his eyes are shut.
Jamie tells all this to Roy, who stands up and leaves the room.
Which, fair. Probably whatever Jamie has is contagious, and Roy shouldn’t catch it because he’s really old and might die. And Jamie is gross when he’s sick, all sweaty and grouchy.
He still has to scrub at his eyes with his comforter, because his body decided he needs to cry about being alone.
Jamie is still crying when Roy comes back in the room with a generic brand of nausea relief, paracetamol, and a water bottle.
“What’re you doing?” Jamie croaks, sitting up. It's literally terrible, like probably the worst thing to ever happen to him when the blanket falls away from his shoulders, and he does his best not to shiver.
“...is that a fucking trick question?” Roy asks.
Jamie takes the pills that Roy hands him and swallows them dry. Roy rolls his eyes at him and then chucks the water bottle in Jamie’s general direction. Jamie drinks it slowly because his stomach really is churning.
“Lie down,” Roy orders when Jamie’s done. Jamie does because his back hurts from sitting up. It’s like all his vertebrae are stacked on top of each other and they’re all rubbing and scraping.
The imagery doesn’t do a lot for his nausea, but lying down is nice.
“‘M cold,” Jamie mumbles. His apparently useless brain has decided to stop filtering his thoughts.
Whatever. He is cold and tired, and just uncomfortable .
“I know,” Roy says, and if Jamie didn’t know better, he would say that Roy is tucking him in. “Let the meds kick in and you’ll feel better soon enough.”
Jamie doesn’t whimper, but he makes an embarrassing noise and bites his lip. Roy sighs again and leaves again, and Jamie might actually be crying, but then the other side of the bed is dipping and Roy is sliding in next to Jamie.
“Hi,” Jamie says stupidly, rolling over to face Roy.
“Hi,” Roy says back, reaching over to wipe the tears off Jamie’s face. “You stupid fucking muppet. If you wanted me to stay you could have just fucking asked.”
Jamie is too busy trying to worm his way into Roy’s body to be offended by that. Roy is warm, and he makes everything feel a little less wobbly, which is good because Jamie feels very wobbly right now.
“You can’t yell at me,” Jamie says, squirming a little. “I’m sick.”
Roy just wraps his arms around Jamie and squeezes. Which is unfair because both Roy and Keeley know that’s a surefire way to shut Jamie up, but Jamie can’t use it on either of them because they have dumb net neutrality brains or whatever.
(But Roy will stop yelling if you hold his hand and Keeley only stops spiraling when one of them rubs her feet).
“Go to sleep,” Roy says. “I’ll wake you up to eat something before Keeley and I leave.”
And Jamie’s halfway asleep already, and there are parts of that sentence that he’d really like to argue with (the verbs
eat
and
leave
, for one) but he’s getting warmer and the shivering has stopped and it’s just not worth it, is it, to be a prick.
Jamie goes to sleep.
—
When he wakes up, everything is hot and bad .
He’s barely even awake for a minute before he launches himself off his bed and stumbles towards the bathroom. The tile is cold under his knees when he collapses in front of the toilet and it feels awful against his oversensitive skin.
Throwing up is also bad. He’s kind of used to it because Roy’s a drill sergeant, but it still sucks. It sucks worse when he’s sick, and his body doesn’t get the memo that they’re alright now, you can cut it out .
He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even hear Roy come into the bathroom. He’s so out of it that when Roy touches his back he nearly decks him.
It probably wouldn’t have hurt, with Jamie all feverish and throwing upish and sleepy, and Roy’s really good at dodging, but Jamie still recoils.
“I’m sorry,” he says, words spilling out too fast. “I’m sorry, I’m–”
He gags again, and then everything sucks even more for a little while. Roy doesn’t touch him while he pukes, which sucks but also is really good.
“Do you need Keeley right now?” Roy asks when Jamie pauses to breathe.
James Tartt Sr. is a dick and a wanker who left Jamie with a scar above his right eyebrow and a valid distrust of men. Dr. Sharon had told him that it was alright if he needed space from Roy, or the guys, or Ted, for a while, and Jamie has been trying to respect that or whatever.
Right now? Right now, Jamie is coming to pieces on the bathroom floor. The light is so bright he can barely see, he feels all shaky from throwing up, his head is pounding, and he’s drenched in sweat.
Yes, Jamie would really like to not be more vulnerable than he is right now.
He nods, and he doesn’t even have time to feel bad about it before Roy presses a kiss to his forehead and stands up slowly. The time between the door closing and Keeley coming in feels like half a second, maybe less.
“Poor boy,” Keeley says, smoothing his hair back. She’s brought one of his headbands, and Jamie lets her arrange it. It does feel nice to get his hair off his face.
“‘M sick, Keels,” Jamie says, all rough and raspy. He feels dumb because obviously she knows that, but Keeley just hums.
“I know, love.”
She lets him lie down in her lap, and she talks to him about her work and her to-do list for the day. Jamie drifts, staring at the underside of their bathroom counter, which has a Chelsea sticker stuck to it.
“Jamie, do you think you can get up?” Keeley asks after a while. The nausea faded while she was talking. Not disappeared, but faded, so Jamie nods and he sits up.
“Alright,” Keeley says. She’s gone into her ‘business-woman mode’. “You need a shower and to brush your teeth. I’ll get you some clean clothes. When you’re done, head downstairs.”
It’s easy enough to follow her directions. The hot water helps Jamie feel more like a person, even if he doesn’t even do his skincare. Keeley has left him clothes– Richmond sweats and one of her/Roy’s pajama shirts. They’re soft against his skin, and Jamie nearly cries ( again, fevers are dumb) when socks fall out of the pile. The sensation of the tile- or anything, really- against his feet is painful.
Jamie shuffles downstairs. Roy and Keeley have clearly already eaten, but the house just smells like lemon cleaner. He can hear someone in the kitchen, but the couch is closer and more comfortable, so Jamie just kind of slumps onto it.
“Hey,” it’s Keeley again, and Jamie had been asleep, mostly, so he whines at her. Keeley does not go away.
“I know,” she says. “But you need to eat and drink something, babe. Then you can have meds and go back to sleep.”
Jamie considers suffocating himself in the couch cushions. He doesn’t want to eat anything ever again, actually.
“Sit up,” Keeley encourages. “It’s just toast and tea.”
It’s like that one thing Bumbercatch was telling them about, lucille dreaming or something, when Jamie sits up. Keeley has made a plate with one inoffensive slice of lightly buttered toast.
Jamie drinks the tea first, just to be a little shit. It’s peppermint, and maybe it's placebo, but Jamie does feel slightly better. Well enough to nibble at the toast, although he only eats half.
“‘M done,” he says. Keeley’s been on the other end of the couch, doing an excellent job of pretending to ignore him.
“Nice,” she says. He is handed the same pills he was handed a number of hours ago. Jamie squints at them.
“What time is it?” He asks because he doesn’t know exactly, but he knows you’re supposed to wait between doses of some medicines.
“Don’t worry,” Keeley says absently. She’s typing away at something, and Jamie reconsiders the idea that she was only pretending to ignore him.
“It’s nearly ten, you’re well overdue for meds.”
Jamie nods, then blinks. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I am,” Keeley says. “I don’t really need an office to do my job, and Roy wanted someone to stay home with you. Take the pills, Jamie.”
“But…”
“I am happy to be here with you, darling. I would have driven myself crazy if we had left you home alone.”
“It’s ten?” Jamie repeats stupidly, and then the fact that he’s late to training sinks in, and all those tears fucking spill over.
“Oh, dear,” Keeley says, abandoning her laptop. Jamie swipes at his face, trying to stop crying, but he just can’t . He’s tired and sick, and his partners are being so nice to him , even though he’s gross and soft.
“I know,” Keeley hushes. Jamie leans into her and buries his face in her shoulder.
“Are you just a little overwhelmed, or is something wrong? Like physically?”
Jamie shakes his head. “jus’-- jus–”
“Okay,” Keeley says. “Okay. I’m going to tell you some things, and you can tell me if they help or make it worse, alright?”
Jamie nods.
“Roy called you out of training,” Keeley starts, absently stroking his back. “So no worries there. Honestly, if you had gone in and spread it to the rest of the boys, that would have been worse. Neither of us think you’re— you’re— I don’t know what your dad would’ve told you, Jamie, at a time like this, but whatever it is, Roy and I think the opposite, alright? You’re good and strong, and you deserve to be taken care of from time to time, because you take such good care of us and because you just should be. I know you’re probably exhausted, so we’re going to take the meds and then watch Gossip Girl until you fall asleep.”
Jamie sucks in a breath. The tears are still coming, but gentler now, like they’re kind of just leaving his eyes. No problems with that.
Keeley and Roy want to take care of him.
Jamie decides he’s going to try and believe that.
“... can we watch Hercules ?” Jamie asks. His voice is cracked and rough, but Keeley grins into his hair.
“Fine,” Keeley says. “If you take your medicine, we can watch Hercules until you fall asleep, at which point I will watch Gossip Girl .”
When Jamie’s finally set, laid out on the couch covered by his blue blanket and medicated and warm, Keeley reaches over from her chair to rub lightly at his shins.
“You’re alright,” she says quietly. I Can Go the Distance is playing softly on the TV.
Jamie falls asleep before Hercules even makes it to Zeus.