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Roy watched as Jamie spun Phoebe with ease before they stepped back into their slow two-step. The lad was smiling warmly at her, and her eyes were crinkled as she grinned right back at him; full of adoration for the chap in front of her.
There was no reason for the sight to make him so fucking emotional, but when he’d seen Phoebe this morning, he’d nearly crushed his coffee mug to keep himself from crying. She was all grown up, twelve years old, and dressed in a flowy summer dress, her hair in two adorable French braids.
Jamie showing up was expected, of course. He was Roy’s best friend, and by extension, he was close with Phoebe. The two of them were partners in crime, always causing trouble for Roy and giggling about it in the meantime. The sight of him, however, was actively taking Roy’s breath away.
His hair was gelled back lightly, and his suit was light blue to match the sky above them, and he looked at Roy’s niece with such fondness that it was almost painful. Like he, too, wanted to cry at the thought of her growing up.
“Are you gonna do something about that anytime soon?” His sister's voice pulled him out of his trance, if only to glance towards her before his gaze eventually landed on Jamie again. He moved with such grace, like he could’ve been a dancer if football didn’t work out.
“What?” Roy grumbled, downing the rest of his beer that he had been clutching for dear life. Ruth placed a hand on his shoulder, a comforting weight to keep him grounded and remind him where he was. He needed to stop being fucking creepy.
“You’ve been staring at him ever since they started dancing, Roy. When are you gonna tell him?” She sounded tired, like they’d had this conversation a million times already - and maybe they had, telepathically. Usually, his sister would just send him a firm look when she thought he was staring a little too hard, or laughing a little too much at Jamie. Today, she was flanking him head-on.
“Never,” he groused, putting the empty bottle down on the nearest surface.
“Roy, you can’t keep pretending that you—“
“He’s my best fucking friend, Ruth. I can’t fucking lose him. I just can’t.”
“And you won't! Everyone will tell you that he’s gone for you. Why won’t you let yourself be happy? Let Jamie be happy?” Ruth frowned, her hand squeezing his shoulder harder, managing to pull his attention towards her for good. “He’s not gonna wait forever.”
“He’s not waiting for anything,” Roy insisted, shrugging his sister's hand off of him before stalking off to get another beer. Ruth followed him without hesitation like the ever-pestering little sister she was.
“Don’t be fucking daft. Do you think he just stopped dating for years for no reason?”
Roy paused briefly, beer forgotten in favour of an incredulous scoff leaving his lips. “He didn’t stop dating.”
Ruth took a deep breath, her eyes all but rolling into the back of her skull. “When’s the last time he dated someone?”
He opened his mouth, but when nothing came out, he snapped it shut again. When was the last time Jamie dated someone? Or talked about seeing anyone at all? “I don’t fucking know. We don’t talk about that kind of shit.”
“You think there’s things Jamie doesn’t talk to you about?” Ruth laughed, and maybe she was right that the lad didn’t usually keep secrets from him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have just forgotten to mention a girlfriend - though, Roy wasn’t sure when he would have had the time to meet anyone. Jamie was with him most of the time, and when he wasn’t, he was bombarding Roy with pictures of everything . There wasn’t much in Jamie’s life that Roy didn’t know about.
“Ruth, I don’t fucking know. But obviously, he’s been dating people in the past three fucking years. He’s not insane,” he finally decided.
“And what about you?” She challenged, arms crossing over her chest as she stared at him with that infamous Kent sibling stare that pissed him off beyond belief .
“I’ve been… Busy.”
“Busy with Jamie.”
“Fucking hell, Ruth, what do you want me to do?” Roy exclaimed, a little louder than he’d meant to, causing a few of the other guests to glance towards them worriedly.
“Talk. To. Him.”
“Fuck off- ”
“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe exclaimed, dragging Jamie along by the hand as she made her way towards him and Ruth. “Uncle Roy, will you please dance with me?”
It was incredible how clear Jamie’s influence on his niece was; from the wide puppy eyes to the dramatically pouty bottom lip that Roy had yet to learn how to reject from either of them.
“Fine. One dance,” he grumbled, sharing a look with Jamie and Ruth before he took Phoebe's hand in his own, letting himself be whisked away towards the dance floor. He should probably be looking at where he was going, but his gaze was stuck on Jamie as he bowed before Ruth, holding a hand out towards her in an invitation to dance.
Even though she’d just been pushing him to make a move on Jamie, the sight of his sister agreeing to dance with him left a simmering envy in Roy’s chest.
“It’s rude not to look at your dance partner,” Phoebe lectured him as she squeezed his hand, getting her uncle's attention back.
“Says who?” Roy scoffed, because what did Phoebe even know about dancing anyway?
“Jamie said so,” she insisted, but before Roy could properly react to that, their dance began. “You know I’m not a kid anymore, right, Uncle Roy?”
“That’s what this party is about, innit?”
“Then you know I won’t mind if you want to date Jamie, right?”
“I— what?”
Phoebe blinked up at him like she’d made herself perfectly clear. “I’m not a kid, I know I can still be friends with Jamie even if you’re dating him.”
“Why would I be dating Jamie?” Roy sputtered, willing himself not to blush in front of his fucking 12-year-old niece. This was fucking humiliating.
“Because you’re in love,” she deadpanned, offering him a weird look like he was losing his mind.
“I’m not!” Roy insisted, realizing that he’d frozen in place, no longer dancing or moving at all.
“Okay… But he is,” she shrugged with all the energy of an almost teenager. “And if you were, I wouldn’t mind. I can share my favourite uncle and my favourite friend.”
“Did your Mum tell you to say this?”
“No, that would be weird, Uncle Roy…”
“No shit. But why else would you think he’s in love with me?”
Phoebe raised her eyebrows as she sent him the Kent stare that Roy hadn’t even fucking realized she’d inherited. “I told you I’m not a kid anymore.”
“If he’s in love with me, why’s he dancing with your Mum and not me?” Roy challenged, feeling stupid as soon as the words had left his mouth. Phoebe huffed out a laugh, turning to look to where Ruth and Jamie were laughing and dancing behind them.
“Jamie knows you don’t like dancing,” she answered simply, eyes finding their way back to his. Despite her wisdom and big age of 12, Roy still saw his baby niece, the ever-observant little kid who had every ounce of empathy in her body that Roy had been forced to shed at an early age. “That’s what love is, Uncle Roy. He doesn’t want to make you do something if you don’t want to. It’s called compromise .”
“Jamie doesn’t know what a compromise is,” Roy shot back defensively, eyes narrowing when he realized what Phoebe was insinuating. Did Jamie choose not to ask him simply because he knew Roy didn’t enjoy dancing, even if Jamie so clearly did? “What the fuck do you know about compromising?”
“Not a lot, but my teacher said it’s important,” she offered with a shrug.
“Fuuuuuck,” Roy breathed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Sorry, Phoebe. I think I have to ask Jamie to dance with me.”
“Yes!” She squealed, throwing her arms around his middle.
As he neared them, Ruth caught his gaze, and where Roy expected to find something smug, he only found a light smile from his younger sister who muttered something to Jamie before stepping away, making her way towards her daughter.
Jamie watched her walk off, giving Roy just enough time to slide up by his side undetected.
“Hey,” Roy spoke softly.
Jamie blinked, turning to look at him with a smile.
“Hi.”
For a moment, Roy found himself unable to speak, watching Jamie as Jamie watched him, like the world had stopped around them and left them in their own private bubble, taking each other in.
“Do you want to dance with me?” Roy blurted, reaching a palm out to the younger lad.
“What?” Jamie stared at him, baffled, like he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard that right. When Roy didn’t move a muscle, Jamie seemed to realize that he meant it. “Do I—? Roy, I’d love to dance with you, mate.”
The weight of Jamie’s hand in his own felt just right, and Roy felt brave enough to leave his free hand on the lad’s hip, pulling them closer together.
With a small hitch of his breath, Jamie gripped onto Roy’s shoulder like he might lose his balance if he didn’t hold himself upright. When their eyes met, Roy offered him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
It was odd - Jamie being the nervous one when Roy felt perfectly content for once.
“You hate dancing,” Jamie reminded him as he let Roy take the lead.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“But why are you… Why are we dancing?”
Roy couldn’t help but shake his head lightly at the lad, clueless and nervous as he seemed. It was endearing, something truly meaningful that Roy was somehow able to unravel him like this - make him stumble over his own feet and words.
“It’s called compromising.”
“Compromising?” Jamie repeated, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip slightly pouted - he was gonna be the death of Roy, one day.
“I hate dancing, but you like it. So I’ll dance with you if it makes you happy,” he shrugged, gently pushing the lad back to give him room for a spin.
With slightly pink dusted cheeks, Jamie let himself be spun before Roy dragged him right back into his arms, slightly closer than before.
“I don’t get it,” Jamie admitted in a low voice, his hand clutching onto Roy’s shoulder for dear life, like he was scared that they’d be dragged apart if he didn’t.
“I’ve been an idiot,” Roy shook his head, pressing their foreheads together, his stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement. There was no way back now. “I just want you to be happy.”
Jamie’s hand flexed in the fabric of Roy’s shirt, his breath coming out fast, fanning over Roy’s own lips.
“Do I make you happy?” He murmured, and Jamie made a small noise in the back of his throat as he nodded eagerly.
“‘Course you do, Roy. The fucking happiest, yeah.”
Roy smiled. “Thank fucking God.”
Before Jamie could ask him what the fuck was going on, Roy closed the gap between them, gripping the lad's hips tightly as their mouths molded together. It was perfect, just how it was supposed to be. Like two fucking puzzle pieces finally falling into place.
After a moment, Jamie made a noise into the kiss, and like he’d been suddenly awakened, his arms wrapped around Roy’s neck, locking him in place. Jamie kissed him like his life depended on it, keeping their bodies flush together for a moment longer than Roy had intended.
“Fucking finally, Roy,” he whispered, head dropping onto Roy’s shoulder while he reached a hand up to card through the lad's hair gently. “Been waiting for years. Was starting to lose hope.”
“You’re such a muppet,” Roy told him fondly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Could’ve fucking told me.”
“I did! On multiple occasions,” Jamie argued, but he didn’t move from where he was buried in the hollow of Roy’s neck. “Kind of.”
“Smile Uncle Roy, Uncle Jamie!” Phoebe cheered, and before they could react much at all, she’d snapped a picture of them on her new fucking Polaroid camera and run off, leaving an amused Ruth to simply shrug at them.
“It’s her Bat Mitzvah. She’s responsible for her own actions, now,” she snickered, sending Jamie into a fit of laughter. Roy shook his head, content to just fucking smile and let it be.