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Jamie’s career blew up just like Roy thought it would: Slowly, and then all at once.
AFC Richmond made it back into the Champions League after Roy’s first year as Head Coach. While their debut had been mediocre, when they returned for a second chance, they blew everyone out of the water. They didn’t win the whole thing, no, but the team really captured people’s hearts and it earned them a lot of international attention. The team were closer than they had ever been. They took the game seriously, but watching them have fun together was delightful, their little shenanigans at the side of the pitch, the hugs, the encouragement, the handshakes — they were a joy for fans to watch and it brought in viewers that usually didn’t give a fuck about football.
Jamie had been doing well on brand deals and fan engagement before, but now his social media really blew up. Fan edits, interview requests, news coverage, billboards, TV clips. Jamie Tartt was everywhere, and Roy couldn’t have been prouder of him, he really couldn’t have.
Most importantly of all, Jamie woke up in his bed every morning, and if Roy had known what that would feel like, he would have kissed Jamie the moment he had first stepped into Richmond’s locker room, instead of snarling at him the way he had. Then again, Jamie had been a little shit then, so maybe he hadn’t been fully off-base.
Money, attention, loving fans, it all flowed Jamie’s way freely, and Roy loved to see it happen. He lived for the way Jamie’s eyes lit up when someone online said something nice about him, and he loved that even with the world finally discovering Jamie Tartt for the treasure that he was, Roy’s attention still meant the most to Jamie.
They kept it a secret, the two of them being together, their relationship, of course they did. This was still football, even if Roy was trying to make things different in his own locker room. He would happily flatten anyone who dared say a fucking word about Colin. There was no way Roy was letting another generation of footballers struggle the way he had. That said though … he knew that Jamie loving him would take away opportunities that wouldn’t come back. The decision to not tell anyone, except for their most important loved ones was a heavy one, it was a decision both of them struggled with off and on.
Once in a while, one of them would look up at the ceiling at night and declare “Fuck it, let’s just come out and tell everyone!”, but by the time morning came, those flights of fancy had usually dissipated. They had each other, and they had all the money they could need, great friends and fantastic careers. It wasn’t worth the headache.
And so what if seeing Jamie out with one of the women that Keeley set him up with for PR purposes was a bit painful sometimes? For all the media knew, Roy and Keeley were still together too, off and on at least. There was nothing to be jealous about, because at the end of the night, Roy was the one who got to take off Jamie's suit when he came home.
It only sucked sometimes, when he’d have loved to take Jamie out on a proper date, and instead they had to make do with another dinner at home.
AFC Richmond was doing great, their relationship was doing even better, and they were due to take a little break at a private villa in Marbella with Keeley and Rebecca, Phoebe and his sister. Life felt as close to perfect as it ever had. And then the offer came in.
The salary Real Madrid offered Jamie was eye-watering, it literally made Roy’s vision swim when he saw it. The dread set in immediately, AFC Richmond couldn’t match an offer like that, even if Jamie was worth every pound.
What should have been two weeks in the sun, unbothered by the world, turned into a very contemplative time for Jamie as he sat with the offer.
They were sitting by the water, their toes touching the sea water, watching the sunset when Roy finally weighed in. He had promised Jamie he wouldn’t sway him one way or another, that it was his decision, and that Roy would support him, no matter what he chose to do, but he couldn’t watch Jamie agonise alone any longer.
“You know you have to take this,” he said quietly, looking out at the water even when he felt Jamie’s eyes on him. “It’s a life-changing amount of money, even for us. This is … this is ‘fuck you’ kind of money.” They were both wealthy, there was no debate about that, but even a year on that salary, nevermind the full three-year contract length would mean that Jamie was literally untouchable. That kind of money would buy him out of any sponsorship deals with morality clauses attached. Morality clauses that would come into action if someone found out Jamie was sleeping with his coach. It was the kind of money that could take care of generations of little Tartts, if Jamie ever decided to dip his toes back into the lady-pool and start a family.
It was the kind of money that meant absolute safety. Both of them had grown up poor enough to know what that really meant.
“I’d be in Spain for three years,” Jamie said quietly, and Roy glanced at him.
“Spain’s not that far,” he reasoned, but they both knew that with schedules like theirs, it was a world away.
Still, Jamie’s expression softened. “What? You’d go long distance with me?” He asked, scanning Roy’s expression intently.
That was the moment Roy realised that life had moved on, that Jamie had outgrown him. Where only two years ago, he had been making Jamie better, he was holding Jamie back now, and that that couldn’t be his role in Jamie’s life.
“I’ll do anything you need me to do,” Roy promised him, and he really meant that. “You can’t turn this down, Jamie, it’ll literally change everything for you.”
Jamie let out a heavy sigh, looking out at the water for a while, before letting his head drop sideways heavily so that it came to rest on Roy’s shoulder.
“I don’t want us to change though,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically small.
It made Roy wrap his arm around Jamie, tugging him tightly into his side, despite the lingering summer heat.
“Only for the better,” Roy promised him, though his heart was already growing heavy at the thought of Jamie so far away from him, surrounded by gorgeous women and handsome men who’d all fall over themselves about Jamie, as well they ought to.
“If I make it through all three years, if we make it … we could come out?” Jamie suggested, and Roy could feel him tilt his head up to look at Roy’s reaction.
In a fairytale world where Jamie still wanted Roy of all people, after three years apart? In a world where he had so much money that nothing could fucking hurt him anymore the moment he turned his phone off and stopped checking his social media if they came out?
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Roy agreed.
It made Jamie sag with relief, it made him smile so freely, the mere thought of it taking the heaviness of the last few days out of Jamie's posture. Roy loved him so fucking much, and he felt so fucking guilty because he had no idea if he had just lied to Jamie.
With the decision made, they finally got to enjoy their holiday. They had sex like it was their last opportunity to fuck, spent every second glued to each other, never out of each other’s reach. They indulged in long talks down by the beachside promenade, and snogs in the pool that reminded Roy of when he’d been a teenager, aimless and only focused on being together, existing in a bubble.
It made the return to England harder.
After Jamie signed the contract, he had two weeks to wrap things up with AFC Richmond. Jamie leaving was a shock to the team and a challenge for the coaches. He literally left a gap in their centre, just like driving Jamie to the airport and hugging him goodbye one last time by the security gates left a hole in Roy’s heart.
Roy hadn’t cried since his retirement conference, but he wept like a child in the Heathrow parking lot, hidden behind the tinted windows of his car, in the backseat where no one could see him.
Jamie documented his time in Madrid meticulously. Roy got texts from him every other waking hour at the very least. He took Roy on flat viewings on video calls, made him put on Dani when he was at work and Dani was nearby to check Jamie’s pronunciation sometimes. Roy was proud of him, he was really making an effort to fit in, had started learning Spanish properly the day he had decided to go for the transfer.
With only one hour of time difference, they got to cook dinner together on video calls, they got to go to bed together, and while Roy had been anxious about sexy video calls, he found that he didn’t mind them all that much when it was Jamie on the other end.
The season picked up though, and Jamie worked at making new friends and fitting in, so it started to become harder to make the same sort of time for each other after a few weeks.
Plans to come see each other were sidetracked by brand deals and pressers, by away-games and emergencies, just like Roy had known they would be.
By the time he got to hold Jamie in person again, it was Christmas. Roy had driven up to Manchester for it, because Jamie missed his family fiercely. Thankfully, Jamie had never sold his place near his mum’s house, and they got to have some uninterrupted quality time alone together.
That was, until his sister got called in for an emergency operation, the babysitter cancelled, the back-up babysitter couldn't make it, and none of their friends were available to jump in. Roy had to drive back down to London so Phoebe wouldn’t be alone for Christmas morning, and Jamie stayed in Manchester.
It was okay though, it was alright. He’d had time with Jamie, Jamie still loved him, and everything was good the moment they were in the same room together.
It was just that his heart felt like it would tear itself to pieces the moment he left.
The whole aborted visit left Roy feeling wretched, and he was on a flight to Madrid when Jamie called him on December 29th, leaving Roy a voicemail. That was the first time Roy heard Jamie cry about the distance, though from the message it sounded like it wasn’t the first time it had happened by a long shot.
“I just …,” Jamie’s breath hitched and Roy could hear the sound of his sleeves wiping at his cheeks, the phone pressed close to his ear in the taxi over to Jamie's place. “I’m just so tired! Because I miss you every day, and I can’t even tell anyone what’s wrong. If someone asks if I’m okay I gotta say ‘Ah I’m a little homesick, miss the shitty weather, hahaha’ and just … it sucks! Cos anyone else can say they miss their girl or whatnot, and I … sorry, I’m sorry! That’s a mad shitty thing to say, but I need you to tell me this is worth it.”
He knocked on Jamie’s door an hour and a half later.
“Roy!” Jamie looked as drained as Roy felt, and they clung to each other, barely letting go and never leaving Jamie’s apartment until January 4th when Roy had to return to London.
While it felt like he left his heart in Madrid, it felt like it was in good hands there when Roy returned. It was worth it! It was! He had spent hours talking to Jamie and they’d be alright. They made more time for calls, and grew more proactive in booking little get-aways to meet each other in London, Madrid or Lisbon, private sneaky holidays, while each of them made sure to be seen out on dates with women in their respective countries.
It was okay, even if they missed each other fiercely.
True reprieve only came in the summer. Without Jamie, AFC Richmond was still good. Still good enough to make it to the top third of the table even, but they didn’t qualify for the Champions League that year.
That meant Roy had more of his summer off (mostly), and it meant he could go see Jamie.
Jamie, whose team had qualified for the Champions League and who was travelling all over to play. It was difficult to be inconspicuous about it. Roy got recognised at Jamie’s very first game in Germany, and a reporter put a microphone in his face, asking if he was proud of Jamie, and what it felt like seeing him with another team.
His voice clip ended up all over social media. “[…] if I’m fucking proud of him? Of course, I am, look at him he’s fucking brilliant out there! They’re fucking lucky to have him, if I could I’d pack him in my suitcase and put him back on my own team.” It was good press, for AFC Richmond and for Jamie.
Roy made sure most of AFC Richmond were there to cheer for Jamie in the next game.
The international attention meant that he couldn’t go everywhere Jamie did, but Roy wasn’t above waiting for Jamie at home in his flat in Madrid either, welcoming him with home-cooked meals and the blowjobs he very well deserved.
One year done, and Roy felt good. Jamie loved him, Jamie was well and happy, he had made friends and his career was going splendidly.
It was only when Roy was back home, alone in their bed that the world felt very empty, even though he objectively knew it wasn’t.
Things turned sour in November, when it was cold and rainy, and Richmond were on a three-game losing streak that had people dropping the ‘R’ word. Roy really wasn’t ready to let the team slip back into the Championship again.
When Jamie called and asked Roy to come see him because his weekend had freed up unexpectedly, Roy had to tell him ‘no’.
It was a nasty fight, only because their fights usually disintegrated as soon as one of them looked too hurt for the other to take or descended into sex, but not being in the same room for it was awful. Neither of them backed down, both of them said stupid shit and when Jamie hung up on him, Roy felt like the ground dropped out under him.
That was the beginning of the rough patch.
Jamie could be petty when he wanted to be, and he knew ignoring Roy would hurt, just like Roy knew that sending an apology gift basket and then not picking up his phone would mess with Jamie.
Real Madrid lost their next game and Roy knew that at least Jamie’s performance was his fault. Jamie was distracted, made mistakes he never made, and a tackle in the 40th minute really threw him off kilter. Roy called him after the game, because he knew Jamie wouldn’t be doing well, and they made up after a few hours on the phone together. Roy still felt rattled even after that. They felt fragile in a way they never had, and they couldn’t even see each other before Christmas thanks to conflicting game schedules.
That year, Jamie invited Georgie, Simon and Roy to Madrid for the holidays, and Roy made sure there was no potential emergency that could interfere with it on his end.
He fell in love with Jamie all over again when Jamie showed them through the city, showing them all the sites he had explored, and beaming so brightly it made Roy’s heart hurt. It was like Amsterdam all over again, Jamie in full tour guide mode, having the time of his life with what Roy understood to be his favourite people in the world.
The sex that night couldn’t be described as anything other than love-making. Roy fucking loved him, he loved him, he loved him, he loved him, he couldn’t fucking lose this, especially not over something petty that would never have broken them in-person.
Roy returned to London with a new vigour, and with a mighty concerted effort, AFC Richmond scraped their way back up the table.
None of them expected to qualify for the Champions League that year, but through some miracle and an amazing set of coincidences on some of the other teams in the Premier League, they did.
“No mind games!” Jamie insisted as he snuck into Roy’s hotel room the night before the big game. AFC Richmond were facing Real Madrid.
“No mind games!” Roy agreed, pulling Jamie in to kiss him. “I can’t fucking wait to see you down there!” He admitted. He loved watching Jamie play, there wasn’t a single game of his he hadn’t watched. Finally! Finally, he was going to see one from his usual perspective from the dugout.
“You’re really getting a kick out of this,” Jamie grinned, pushing Roy down on the bed and climbing on top of him with all the zest of a man whose back and knees gave him no trouble yet.
“Damn right I am!”
They didn’t play mind games, but they damn near overslept the next day.
It soothed something in Roy’s soul, seeing all his lads on the pitch together again, even if Jamie was wearing the wrong colours. There had never been much hope of them beating Real, but the team really knew Jamie and gave their opponents a true run for their money. The 1-1 tie felt like a gift, and Roy got to meet Jamie’s eyes across the pitch, the way he so missed doing, flipping him the bird fondly as the AFC Richmond players descended on Jamie, finally free to go hug him properly after the final whistle, welcoming him back into their folds for the night like a long lost brother.
There were pictures in the paper the next day, of Jamie running over to Roy after the game, of the two of them hugging tightly, beaming at each other. Roy saved the pictures down, printed them and added them to his mantle piece at home proudly once they got back. On the evening after that game though, Roy took all his lads out on the town, including Jamie, happily bankrolling the night just to see them all happy together again.
Real Madrid made it into the Champions League finals, AFC Richmond did not, but they were all there to cheer for Jamie anyway.
Somewhere during their celebrations as a group, seeing Roy and Jamie together, something had clicked for the team, or at least it had for Sam, who was the only one who said anything. Roy had thought they had been careful, that they were hiding their entanglement well, but when he sat in his office, staring into space, Sam leaned into the doorframe and spoke to him very gently.
“Coach. We miss him too. It’s okay, it’s just one more year right?”
Right … unless Jamie decided to stay in Madrid. The rumours were already starting up, what with Jamie’s last season in Spain starting. Roy didn’t have the guts to bring up the question on whether or not Jamie was coming back during their almost nightly calls.
Jamie wanted to come out. He brought it up again in the summer and Roy could feel his increasing hope that Roy would grow some enthusiasm about it. The thing was … even with the kind of fuck-you money they had, it would still suck, and Roy wasn’t sure he had the nerves for it. Especially not for the favouritism and inappropriate entanglement parts of the discussion that would come up. He knew he couldn’t take it if someone implied he’d pushed Jamie into this, because deep down he was pretty sure he had. He’d been the one to make the insults personal, to make the training sexual, that had been all him. A text from Jamie popped up on his screen and Roy couldn’t click on it all day. For whatever reason, Jamie loved him, and Roy didn’t have the guts to love him back out loud.
The season started off hectic, especially for Jamie who had a whole charity campaign going on in Spain that he had to act as a spokesperson for. Queer teens, some kind of awareness and anti-bullying thing.
“Just testing the waters, innit?” Jamie had reasoned. Roy didn’t speak any Spanish, but just seeing pictures of Jamie in front of rainbow backgrounds made his gut twist with a mix of longing and fear. There was some backlash, but it was negligible from what Keeley told him.
Roy still couldn’t imagine what it would be like. It wasn’t a dream of his, it felt more like a nightmare, and that was the one thing he couldn’t tell Jamie.
Real Madrid had a new transfer that season. A Mexican lad called Fernando, whom Jamie took him under his wings. He showed him the city and made sure he immediately found friends. Roy heard an awful lot about Fernando, and he saw a lot of him too, because he was starting with Jamie almost every game. Whether it was real or imagined, the way he held onto Jamie after goals and on their way from the tunnel to the pitch made an angry jealous monster roar in Roy’s gut.
Jamie was nothing if not a thoroughly honest guy. He had told Roy about little crushes before, especially when Keeley set him up with PR dates with women he might have actually gone for if he were single. It hadn’t ever been an issue, mostly because Roy just got to fuck him about it and tease him a bit. It was fucking unfair of him to get mad about nothing, but as the pressures of the season increased, Roy couldn’t help but feel rotten.
What if Jamie fell in love and stayed? What if he loved his life in Madrid more than he had liked his life in London? The money would be better, the weather too. Jamie had a lovely tan he enjoyed showing off. “From actual sun, you know, not just sprayed.”
Roy should have known he wasn’t subtle, because when he snidely asked “What would Fernando say about it?” Jamie had called him out immediately.
“Oh you jealous bastard, is that why you’ve been all short with me? He’s my friend, it’d be like fucking Dani!”
“You’d totally fuck Dani!” Roy pointed out.
“I mean … maybe? If I wasn’t fucking devoted to you. Roy … I ain’t interested in fucking no one else, where is this coming from? Do you wanna fuck other people?”
“Fuck no!” Roy wasn’t proud of hanging up on Jamie. It was a gut punch reaction, he needed the situation to end, and with Jamie far away, that was an option. An option he shouldn’t have indulged.
Jamie didn’t text him and Roy didn’t know what to say.
Maybe this was doomed. Three years had been too long. He was bound to fuck it up. He should have just apologised, and quickly. Instead, it was Jamie who texted him first, two days later.
‘They’re filming a documentary about me. Working title is: Jamie Tartt: From Manchester to Madrid. Keeley said it’d be a good idea. Gotta be careful with what you say when you call me, cos the crew’s gonna be around.’
‘Got it.’ Roy responded, and then ‘I’m sorry for being a cunt and hanging up on you.’
He saw Jamie typing for a while, but in the end, the message that came through was short. ‘I know you are, just tell me it’s still worth it?’
Roy started typing, but it wasn’t good enough, so he clicked on the voice message button instead. “Jamie… you’re worth everything.”
The neurotic thoughts snuck in slowly and probably had for months, but they got bad in November.
Roy found himself making little bargains with the universe. The football season and Jamie’s documentary were both in full swing, and it was difficult for Jamie to find safe times to call Roy, and so when he was at home after work, Roy would try to distract himself, open up a book, turn on the TV. Really though, he was watching his phone and his clock, setting unkind ultimatums.
‘If he texts me by 8, it means he still loves me,' he'd tell himself, which was a ridiculous and unfair deadline to set because Jamie didn’t even fucking know about it. Still, it could sour Roy’s whole day and he knew he sometimes let it bleed into their calls, like the asshole he was.
They just had to make it to Christmas break, then it would be almost over. Things were always better after Christmas. Except Roy forgot about the fucking documentary. Of course, they’d want to film the rare homecoming, and Jamie missing his family but giving up the comfort of London for his career, it was good television probably.
“I’m sorry, Roy … but… I mean this would be an opportunity to soft-launch us? You come in, kiss me and spend Christmas with me and my family? The documentary won’t be coming out til summer at the earliest.”
The ‘fuck no’ was on Roy’s tongue, but for once he reeled it in. “And you think none of them are gonna leak that?”
In the end, they didn’t go for the soft launch. Instead, Jamie snuck out of his own house at night to jog the familiar route to Roy’s house, leaving his family and film crew fast asleep while he climbed into Roy’s bed.
It was a good call too, because in the end, they rushed the documentary through production and put it out in March. The promo banners for it appeared every time Roy turned on the TV. Just hearing the trailer’s voice clip of Jamie talking over pictures from his childhood had Roy sick with longing, and he never managed to press play on it, because he couldn’t afford what it would do to his heart. The season was going well, Jamie was gonna come home. They’d be okay soon enough.
Sky Sports announced that Jamie was staying with Real Madrid for another season.
Roy turned off his phone after sending a text that just said ‘Congratulations,’ which Jamie would know was dripping in sarcasm.
Luckily for him, it was the Easter break, and he’d have a few days off. He didn’t turn on his TV, didn’t turn on his phone, didn’t look at the newspaper stand when he bought his groceries and a nice bottle of whiskey.
Sitting on his kitchen table, tipsy and working his way to drunk, he sat over a notepad, Dr. Sharon’s voice in his head.
‘You have to learn how to advocate for what you want,' she had told him ‘It’s not fair to anyone to just growl and hope someone else reads your mind.’
He had soaked in his own misery, literally not left his bed for three days before showering that morning, and deciding to do something about his misery. The complete lack of contact hadn’t done him any good, physically, but he had arrived at the conclusion that even if Jamie stayed in Madrid for another year or so before returning to England, it would be better to tough it out than it would be to never have him again. So what if Roy was losing his mind a bit? At least Jamie would come home eventually, still seek him out, still spend his breaks in Roy’s bed and make it feel like he never left.
Somewhere between jotting down points and ideas for making another year go over more smoothly, the page had turned into some kind of semi-incoherent love letter that thoroughly reflected his increasing inebriation.
That was when his doorbell rang. Roy sighed, it was going to be Beard if he was lucky, or Rebecca if he wasn’t, come to tell him to stop being a miserable sod for disappearing.
“I know, I know-,” Roy froze. It was Jamie.
“You’re not breaking up with me!” Jamie announced, his angry tone making something ugly rise in Roy’s chest, something hurting at the assumption, and mad about it because he had firmly decided he wasn’t going to anyway.
“Is that so?” The ugly feeling in his core made him say.
“You’re such an ass,” Jamie pushed past him and into the house, rolling his carry-on inside and Roy closed the door behind him.
“I wasn’t-“ Roy started, just as Jamie started talking. “I’m not staying in Madrid!”
“What?”
“I’m not. I don’t know why they reported that, it wasn’t true. And you’re an asshole for turning your phone off!” Jamie snapped. It had been a good long while since he had actually made Jamie mad, it was sobering.
Roy felt his shoulders slump. “That was something an asshole would do,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t going to break up with you.”
“Bullshit,” Jamie said, but there was a wobble in his voice, one Roy recognised, and as Roy looked at him, Jamie’s lower lip wobbled too.
“Come here.”
Jamie did, letting Roy wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight. If anything, Jamie had gained even more muscle over there, he felt incredibly solid to Roy in that moment, and he realised how desperately he had needed him.
“I thought you were gonna dump me.”
“I’m not. I’m not. I’m keeping you!” And Roy felt himself really mean it.
After almost three months of not seeing Jamie, finally touching him again felt like salvation. It made the rest of his life feel like it wasn’t going to be so bleak. He had spent days in bed imagining a future without Jamie, and it had been a horrible place.
When Jamie’s breaths started hitching, he held on tighter.
Jamie could only stay for two days and they definitely made the most of the first one, curling up in fresh sheets together later that night.
They had a lot to talk about, and for once they actually had the time to do it, skin to skin, soft under the covers.
“Did they offer?”
“There’s a … kind of a standing offer where if I say the word they’ll draw it up,” Jamie explained. “They’ll present a formal one in June though.”
“Jamie, if you want to, we’ll stick it out-“
Jamie shook his head, kissing Roy until he was smiling too hard to keep it up. “Yeah, no, I saw your list on the table.” He sounded so fond it made Roy’s chest ache. “But … I want this to be real.”
“It is real!”
“Yeah, no it is, but just … I wanna be out, and I wanna be with you. I can’t stand doing that in another country.” Roy’s breath stuttered and Jamie’s eyebrows folded into a sad frown as he watched him. “And I don’t wanna blackmail you out of the closet, that’s not what this is! Just … if we’re gonna keep hiding, I could make a whole lot more money over there, but I wanna be home, with you.” His expression softened. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I know you’re not worried about fucking assholes on social media, you never care about that.”
And so Roy told him. That yes, the backlash scared him, the way Jamie might be received on the pitch by the fans scared him, the idea that some asshole on another team would target him, injure him. He offered to quit as Head Coach and come to Madrid with Jamie, which Jamie dismissed outright. He didn’t want to come out in another country far away from his friends and family, which made sense to Roy and he realised he didn’t want that either, but he’d have done it if it meant keeping Jamie.
But then he dug into the real stuff that he hadn’t had the words for before now, the things that haunted him at night when he thought about them coming out.
“You didn’t make me do shit, Roy. There’s nothing wrong with us. I wanted you way longer than you wanted me. It’s not inappropriate!” Jamie told him all the right things, soothed him, and still Roy found himself scared.
“What if I don’t come back to Richmond then, so we don’t have the direct manager-player thing going? No one can say it’s bad if you’re not even in charge of me.”
“What? Are you gonna go play for peanuts at Newcastle?”
Jamie huffed. “No!” He paused, bit his lip. “But Chelsea offered.”
“Shut up!” It wasn’t a real surprise, Jamie was brilliant, any club worth being called that would want him, but the idea of Jamie going to his old club … weirdly made Roy feel a little nostalgic.
“Oh you like it!” Jamie’s grin turned all smug in an instant. He pushed his leg up further between Roy’s. “You wanna see me in Chelsea colours. Fuck, how did I never think of that, where’s that old kit of yours?” Jamie made as if to extract himself to go look for it, but Roy pulled him back in close.
And so they had a solution. Jamie could come back to London, they could live together again, properly - and they’d announce it? Roy still felt shaky thinking about it, but it was worth it, Jamie was always going to be worth it.
“What do you mean you didn’t watch my documentary? Get your ass on the sofa. I say so many nice things about you!”
It was true, he really did.
And Roy had been right too, five minutes into the documentary, he was crying.
In July, Roy flew to Madrid with empty suitcases and helped Jamie to pack up his life there, with larger items due to be shipped home separately.
They spent long evenings walking the city. For the first time in Roy’s life, he was out with a man, in public, holding Jamie’s hand, holding Jamie, kissing Jamie and not giving a fuck about who saw.
A statement about their relationship was drafted and ready to go, in case someone caught them. If no one did, it would be released on the day after they arrived back in London. That way they’d have a few weeks before the new season to let the worst of it blow over. Chelsea's management had been informed, and their support for Jamie's coming out had been a condition of him signing with them. They had reached out to Keeley to help them draft a statement of their support. They were ready!
It did something to Roy, being out and about so freely.
Back in London, he found that there had been some kind of lid on how much he allowed himself to love Jamie, something inside him holding him back from fully indulging in the feelings, lest he'd have to dampen them at a moment’s notice so he could hide and play straight. That lid was off now, and he found himself deliriously in love in a way he had never felt before. He’d put on music to cook and find himself slow dancing with Jamie in the kitchen minutes later. He showered Jamie with gifts and affection, anything to make him smile, and Jamie made it so easy for him, settling back into their home like it was the only place he had ever wanted to be.
They spent days in bed together, not checking their phones when the news of their relationship broke. Everyone who mattered already knew about them anyway, and anyone who didn’t matter could run their mouths all they wanted.
When they resurfaced from their cocoon, Roy was shocked to find a huge amount of support waiting for him on his phone. People he hadn’t spoken to in years had reached out to congratulate him and wish him the best, and there were people in his comment sections going to bat for him and Jamie, fighting off the trolls for them.
It shook him to his core, and a part of him went spiralling for a bit there, wondering if this would have been possible earlier, but in the end, Jamie pulled him back into the moment.
They invited the whole team and their spouses out for dinner to celebrate ahead of the pre-season training, an evening Roy would forever think of as one of the best of his life. Jamie was truly home, and beaming, so happy to be with his friends, even if he wasn’t going to be playing with them.
Jamie was nervous like a kid on the first day of school when Roy drove him to the player entrance at Chelsea. Roy couldn’t blame him for the nerves, he could be there for him though, and he could pick him up after work, listening to Jamie retell his whole day beat by beat.
It wasn’t a surprise, but Jamie did brilliantly at Chelsea, seamlessly integrating himself after only a couple of weeks.
The pundits and Jamie’s new team had some jokes about Jamie extracting strategy secrets from Roy ahead of their first game as opponents, where Richmond would play Chelsea at the Dog Track. The teasing was all good-natured though, and it didn't feel malicious at all, which was something Roy had been bracing for.
Roy didn’t hold back on hugging Jamie tightly when Chelsea lost 0-1. The Richmond lads had been on fire, and they knew Jamie very well. The bus had been parked, Chelsea got disheartened after 70 minutes without headway, and the error made itself. Still, Roy was fucking proud of Jamie, and he delighted in seeing him play up close again.
“You gonna put a ring on it, Coach?” Nate asked, holding up his hand to show off his own ring, still beaming fresh off his honeymoon with Jade.
Roy looked out at the pitch where his team was hugging Jamie fiercely.
“I think so, yeah. When we’re ready,” he nodded.
He had only just gotten Jamie back, but damn if he was ever going to miss him again.
'Ready' came for them two years later when Jamie was about to turn 30. At that point, Roy’s grandfather’s ring had been burning a hole in his pocket for half a year, already resized to fit Jamie.
Chelsea were at a friendly match in Amsterdam and Roy flew out to meet Jamie there.
He wore a suit and had one sent up to Jamie’s room as well, meeting him with two bikes outside of his hotel.
“What is this?” Jamie beamed, looking gorgeous in his suit as he took in Roy.
“I thought we’d recreate our first date if you’re up for it,” Roy smiled, offering Jamie one of the bikes.
They took a long way to the Windmill, driving by all the sights Jamie had dragged him by on their first visit, passing by the Johan Cruyff arena and over the Skinny Bridge, down past the thinnest house and so on, until they made their way back to the Windmill. There, a table waited for them, with waiters and a cook, a special dinner set up just for them, candlelight and everything. There was a photographer too, but he was acting as if he was a waiter as well for now.
“Holy shit, Roy!” Jamie marvelled at the setup, eyes glassy as he took it all in.
“I wanted to kiss you that night. I don’t know if I ever told you.” Roy pulled the chair out for Jamie, the one that had the perfect view of the windmill.
They were served champagne and Roy forgot his entire speech because looking at Jamie now, nothing he had jotted down seemed to cover what Jamie was to him. Still, he managed to get it out. That he loved Jamie, that he’d never been this happy, that being with Jamie had brought him back to life, and that he’d do anything to make this work for him.
Jamie’s lip was doing that little wobble, and Roy shook his head because if Jamie cried right now, he would too. So he got out the ring.
“Belonged to granddad. It felt right, but we can find a fancier one.”
“Please ask me, I’m dying over here!”
Roy laughed, and his eyes watered as he got down on his knee, now smooth and mended after Jamie had made him get his much-overdue knee operation last year.
“Jamie Tartt, will you marry me?”
Jamie would, it turned out.
Almost none of the pictures from the actual moments after the proposal were usable, full of desperate kisses and frantic scrambling, but they did manage some pictures suitable for sending to their loved ones in the end.
They went to a jeweller the next morning to pick out a lovely matching gold chain that Jamie could put the ring on when he was playing, for him to hang it into his cubby like a good luck charm during games. He never took it off otherwise. And they found a ring for Roy that matched Jamie’s, simple but beautiful.
Roy would make a habit of twisting it on his finger during matches when things got tight.
Jamie’s career with Chelsea was a splendid one. He was a menace on the pitch, and Roy couldn’t be prouder of him.
AFC Richmond were only immune to Jamie until some of the original players from when Roy had taken over as Head Coach moved on to other clubs. No matter how much they tried to brief the newcomers on Jamie, he got in their heads so good, Roy couldn’t even be mad at anyone. Both clubs continued doing well over the next five years, and Roy got to go to bed with his husband almost every night, except for when either of them had away-games.
Phoebe was making noise in the U18. The Richmond Women’s Team climbed their way into the Super League, and Roy firmly stayed out of any discussions of recruiting Phoebe, because he wasn’t going to have her accused of nepotism by getting her the contract. He had done his Uncle duties and coached her off and on for years. She was brilliant! But he wasn’t going to push anyone into signing her.
Things were good in a way Roy had never imagined his life could be.
Jamie never got injured badly, which felt like a gift from the universe, but sometimes Roy could tell he was in pain, and not the kind of pain that Jamie would whine endlessly about, like when he nicked his finger a bit during cooking prep. Where it had been the knees giving out for Roy, it was Jamie’s hips and back that were feeling the strain of a long football career, and Roy found himself spending hours massaging Jamie on their rare days off to give him some relief. He had his physio appointments, of course, and they were enough to keep him going, but the strain lingered.
The changes were gradual, but when Roy pulled up an old clip of Jamie playing for AFC Richmond ten years prior, it was clear he had slowed down. And it slowly got reflected in his position on the pitch, less solo goals, less range, less motion, even if he still played through each game fully as Chelsea's new captain.
Roy wasn’t going to be the one to ask about Jamie’s future plans first, but he knew Jamie was thinking about what retirement might look like for him.
“I could do more of this when I retire.” And similar phrases had found their way into his everyday vocabulary. Roy always kissed him and told him he’d love that for him, which seemed to please Jamie.
Phoebe got signed to the AFC Richmond Women’s team at 18, and Roy felt himself walking around the building with a puffed up chest, bursting with pride.
To celebrate, he organised a barbecue at his and Jamie’s place, inviting all of Richmond and Chelsea.
“That’s my girl!” He shouted as Phoebe and Jamie went toe to toe on the lawn, their aim true, and Phoebe fast as the wind, sneaking the ball off Jamie so smoothly it made everyone’s jaw drop.
“Fuck I’m old!” Jamie laughed when he came back, taking Roy’s beer off him and having a sip of it.
“Now … she’s just young!” Roy smiled, pressing a kiss to Jamie’s temple.
The universe sent Jamie a greeting card in the summer transfer window of 2035, when Ray Clarke was called up to the first team from the Chelsea academy. Ray was 18 years old, from South London, with a chip on his shoulder and the passion of a hundred burning suns, eager to prove himself.
On his second day at Chelsea - when Jamie, as his captain, gently told him to cool it a bit with the aggression during training - Ray called him ‘granddad’.
Jamie froze, tried to hold it together, but doubled over laughing seconds later, which took the wind right out of Ray’s sails, leaving him confused and angry.
“No, no, kid! Swear down, I ain’t laughing at you, I’m really not. Holy shit, this is amazing! Sorry, lads, I’ll be right back. I need to call my husband.” Jamie patted Ray’s shoulder and headed outside into the corridor, still wheezing when Roy picked up.
“New kid called me ‘granddad!’” He cried laughing.
Roy barked a laugh of his own. “Oh you fucking deserve that! How’s it feel?” Roy asked, deeply amused. The absolute vindication! It was just too good.
They laughed and Jamie went back to training, patching things up with Ray.
That night though, as they were sitting down for dinner, he covered Roy’s hand with his own.
“I think this is my last season,” he said. Roy picked up his hand and kissed it.
“I’d love that.” He wanted Jamie to have what he couldn’t manage, a chance to retire without major injuries and without feeling like he stayed longer than he should have. It had taken Roy years to overcome what that had done to him, and he wanted better for Jamie.
Roy flew Georgie and Simon down from Manchester for Jamie’s last game, bought the best tickets in the house for them.
He didn’t know if the League was a fan of theirs, if it was pure coincidence or a salute to them, a parting gift perhaps, but Jamie’s last game was at the Dog Track facing AFC Richmond.
Jamie played his fucking heart out, using his last chance to outshine the rest of the pitch, outrunning players half his age. Jamie was unstoppable, he was mesmerising, and Roy couldn’t even root for his own team during that game, though he tried his best.
Chelsea wiped the floor with them, and that was fine by him.
Because in the end, after the final whistle, Jamie booked it towards the dugout, soaked from 92 minutes of relentless play, and did something they had never done at a match before. He wrapped his arms around Roy and kissed him, right there, in front of everyone, the stadium erupting in wolf whistles and shouts.
“Can I dip you?” Jamie whispered against his lips, and Roy would have said yes to anything in that moment.
Jamie took a tight hold of him, safe and secure, dipping Roy backwards into a kiss so sweet it melted something in his chest.
It felt like the finale of a cheesy 90’s romcom, and Roy loved it.
As the fans chanted Jamie’s song, the announcers called Jamie back into the pitch and he took his final bows, accepting flowers from Chelsea and from Richmond as the fans roared for him.
He sat next to Roy at the post-game presser, holding Roy’s hand under the table. The retirement wasn’t a surprise, he had announced it months ago, but this was his last hoorah, and the reporters treated it with the dignity it deserved.
“What would you say to your younger self who was just starting out in 2018?”
Jamie smiled, squeezing Roy’s hand.
“I’d tell him he didn’t need to be such a prick to make people see him.” That got a few laughs and Jamie smiled a little brighter too. “But I’d tell him that he’ll have a better life than he can even imagine. And that he just needs to hang in there, because football is gonna change so much. If you’d told me back then that I’d get to sit here one day, holding hands with my husband and that people would still cheer for me, I think I’d have fucking wept.” Roy let Jamie move their joined hands from under the table up into the light.
“I’m just really happy, you know? I loved every minute of it. I loved my time at Man City, they raised me and gave me everything I needed to become great. And I loved my time at Richmond. I became me here. I stopped hiding here, I learned so much from my teammates. I don’t know where I’d have ended up if we hadn’t lucked into Ted, but I know it wouldn’t have been nearly as good. Got to butt heads with this hairy prick here, until we figured out that maybe that weren’t what we were meant to be doing with them. Get your heads out of the gutter, I mean kissing!” Roy laughed, shaking his head fondly.
“I loved Madrid. It really showed me another life, a whole different set of people, cultures and opportunities. I loved my team there, they’re amazing … and it really showed me what mattered to me most, and I’m so happy Chelsea adopted me so I could have it all. They’re family and I’ll miss playing with them. I just … I wanna thank you all. And it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’ll be at games all the time, swear down. And besides, you’ve got such exciting players coming up, you won’t even miss me. You watch out for Clarke, he’s fire on the pitch, he’s gonna do us proud, and Phoebe Kent? I’m sorry but if you’re not already watching the Women’s League, you better start now, cos they’re where the real action is. I can say that now cos I don’t play anymore!”
There was a round of chuckles, and a heavy pause filled with fondness until someone asked a follow-up question.
“And other than supporting your former clubs and attending games, do you have any idea what you want to do in your retirement?”
“Yeah, yeah I do. I’m gonna continue working with Young Lives vs Cancer and Stonewall. They’re organisations that really matter to me and I hope they’ll have your support, they really make a difference and that’s what I wanna be a part of.”
A cheeky smile crossed his face. “Though … I think I’ll take a couple of weeks and figure out what being a house husband is like. Thank you all, I think that’s enough. It’s been my honest pleasure!”