Archive of Our Own

9

What do you think the new gaffer is going to be like? 

Fucking don’t know fucking don’t care

Where are you? 

In the garden

Why the fuck are you texting me?

Better than me yelling…come down 

Sun with me

No

Fine be a pasty-white grandad

9

Do Americans even know what football is?

Yes

Enough to coach it? 

No

We’re gonna eat him alive

Poor fucker

9

They like him a lot over there…they call him ‘Mr Rogers’?

Don’t know who the fuck that is but apparently it’s a good thing

Want to mess with his head? 

Don’t you have publicity with Keeley? 

Yeah, getting ready

What do you think? 

Your trousers are a size too small.

I know 😉

Between:

• Putting his ‘home’ together (and being thoroughly confused as to how his scraps will get through the pipes without a garbage disposal), 
• Getting a handle on the lingo without a dictionary (or Beard),
• And trying not to get killed every time he crosses a road, (“it’s right, left, right. C’mon Coach,” Beard reminds him. “I’ll get it, Willis, cross my heart.”),

Ted can say that he is, honest to God, exhausted as he crawls into bed. He valiantly tries to read and reread a few more player profiles because it’s not a great look for him to keep getting mixed up between Colin and Arlo, but his eyes slowly slip shut, and he eventually falls asleep.

That night, he dreams, his mind bouncing between thoughts of his family back in Kansas, Henry’s muted excitement at the idea of traveling back and forth across the Atlantic, how he’s going to coach a sport that he doesn’t really know how to play, and, most importantly, how to get everyone to respect each other. They’re a long way from social cohesion and team spirit.

9

Going out with K 2nite 

Practice tomorrow.

Ruining my fun 🙁

Today gave him a good overall picture, it’s not much, but it’s enough for Ted to imagine that the first meeting between Jamie and Roy looked a lot like an old Warner Bros. cartoon.

Jamie, bouncing around with endless enthusiasm, sees Roy approaching from a distance. He watches Roy intensely and as Roy nears he becomes noticeably more peppy, although has a mean smirk on his face. 

Roy is already on the alert. He slows to a stop. 

Jamie

He moves to stand in front of Roy, their faces close together before his eyes widen and he grins. 

Wahey! Hes old, he’s slow got no fucking place to go! Roy Kent! Roy Kent!

Roy

He growls. His fists clench and the skin of his face slowly starts to turn red.

Jamie

He holds his arms out to the sides; haughty. He’s ready to take his rightful place on the throne 

Bow to your new king, grandad.

Roy

Completely red, vibrating in anger, he doesn’t say anything, but the whistle of a kettle sounds and steam comes out of his ears. Roy opens his mouth and…

*BOOM*

The next morning, as Beard hands him a coffee, he asks, “So, on a scale of one to ten, ten being no chance in my lifetime or Henry’s, how difficult do you think it will be to pull everyone together?”

“Two.”

“Oh, I love me some optimism.” Beard looks at him. He sighs. “Alright, where do I lose points?”

He knows Beard knows. Beard saw it and connected the dots long before he did. “Captain versus striker.”

He takes a sip of his coffee. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

9

RELEGATION 

HERE WE COME 

“Whatcha writing?”

Roy sighs and hunches over the paper, trying to focus on making his lines clear. “None of your business.”

He feels Jamie hover at his back, peeking over his shoulder, the air only slightly warmer around him. “Why’s your writing normal-sized?”

“I want him to know that I hope he chokes on a Big Mac.” Jamie laughs and then waits, because somehow he senses that there’s more. “It takes me fucking forever to write this clearly… It makes my hand cramp,” he admits. He makes the mistake of looking up and sees Jamie looking at him with a soft smile. Fuck. Roy hears some voices nearing and knows that they can’t be looking at each other like that. It must show on his face because Jamie leans an inch closer, the warmth bleeding into him for a second more before completely moving away. Jamie nods, and as a staff member rounds the corner, Roy hardens his gaze. “Fuck off, Tartt, and leave me alone.”

Beard

Where do I put my trash?

In the bin…

No, I mean, it’s ‘bin’ day…but I don’t have a trash can?

Put it in a bag and put it on the curb. 

For real?

Yup. 

Wild. 

Roy's watching TV, his legs stretched out onto the coffee table, and curtains drawn to block out the street lights, when he hears his front door open. There are three knocks to the door frame, always three – a signal, a ritual to cleanse the day. "Roy, it's me!" He tilts his head back against the couch and accepts the kiss to his forehead. Sock-clad feet quickly bury into his thigh. "Are you mad at me for today? Like for comparing you to Keith Richards? I just want to make sure you know that even if I could, I wouldn't have sex with him... it'd be like having sex with a corpse."

Christ, he thinks. He turns his head, and Jamie's grey eyes stare back at him. Jamie's showered, his dark hair still damp, his usually stupid quiff now floppy and falling across his forehead. There's even the subtle smell of his fancy moisturiser still lingering on his skin.

He sighs. Jamie can say whatever the fuck he wants about him because he really doesn't care. He knows the roles they're playing. It's the stuff with the other lads that he has an issue with. He knows how it goes; there's always been a base level of hazing, but as the months have progressed, there's a mean undercurrent that he didn't care to notice before. He feels a small measure of shame that the new coaches are seeing this team – his team, like this – but he doesn't know how to change it. "No. And we're not talking about work."

Roy doesn't remember who created the rule; the idea to not speak about their relationship in a football context. It sounds like him, but he thinks it was Jamie. He vaguely recalls Jamie asking, "Can we carpertmentalise this?"

"You're in late," he says to change the subject.

Jamie yawns, hiding it behind his hand when it goes on for too long. "Did an extra gym sesh."

"Recovery–"

"Recovery time is important. I know. I know." Jamie turns his attention to the TV. "What the hell is that?" The words sound harsh, but are said with awe. "Oh my god, I've never seen a baby shark being born before. Holy shit, are they hatching?! That egg would rip out their insides, would it? Mummy would never ‘ave had me if I had to come out of one of those." Jamie starts peppering him with questions, as if the show isn't there on screen in front of him.

"Oi," he says softly. "I don't know the answer to your questions. If you shut up and watch the telly, you might find out." He squeezes Jamie's ankle.

Jamie hums back at him. After a few minutes, he looks over. "You should go to bed, grandad. I'll come up after this finishes."

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"I'm sure," Jamie replies. "My brain's still running." Jamie tilts his head, a cheeky grin breaking out across his face. "I was going to say you need the beauty sleep, but, well... there's nothing you can do to save that face." He lets out a howl of laughter. Roy rolls his eyes and pinches Jamie's foot as he gets off the couch and starts to walk away. He stops when Jamie grabs onto his elbow. "Hey." Jamie moves to kneel so he's a little higher up and reaches for his face, his fingertips tracing ever so lightly across his skin. Roy thinks it's a silent apology, but he can't be sure and he's too chickenshit to ask. "If Keith Richards looked like you, I'd totally have sex with him."

He snorts, can't even bring himself to tell Jamie that that makes no sense, and drags himself up the stairs as Jamie continues his running commentary at the TV.

Michelle

Dad, can you send me something weird? 

What do you mean weird? 

I don’t know something that’s not in Kansas. 

I’ll keep my eyes peeled. 

Hi Ted, it’s Michelle, I think he wants something for show and tell. 

He’s scheduled on in a few weeks. I don’t remember the date.

It’s alright 
I’m sure Willis will have some ideas for me. 

Ted can’t get Jamie’s face out of his head as he walks with Beard, backpacks on and shoulders burdened with what they have to do. “Do we know much about Jamie’s background?”

“No, Coach; only what’s been sent over. Why?”

“I spoke to him after the game,” Ted says, “and I think we can bring him around. I saw Jamie—completely unfiltered and real. The before-shot before someone decided to Photoshop him to high heaven and get rid of the good stuff.” Beard looks at him, just waiting for him to continue. “You ever wonder if they pay too high a price? They’re just kids.”

“I think I told you that.”

Oh right, Beard did. He forgot. “Only because I said it to you first.”

They walk in silence for a few moments until Beard says, “Fertilior seges est alenis semper in agris.”

Wisdom is about to be imparted, he can feel it. “Forgive me, but I left my Latin dictionary at home.”

“The harvest is always more fruitful in another man’s fields.”

He puzzles over it and then stops mid-step. Beard walks on. “Did you just tell me the grass is always greener on the other side?” Beard shrugs a ‘maybe’ at him.

Damn, Beard always delivers. 

He resumes walking, lengthening his strides to catch up to Beard. “We don’t have much time to turn this around.” Beard says it kindly because he knows that Ted’s working without a map, except-

“We’ll get there; we’ve already started.” Beard is his map. He remembers the crate of books that Beard bought when he floated the idea; The Move. Matches were watched with pizza and beers and books were read, digested and summarised in between counselling sessions and standoffs that were resigned, attempts to try, and smiles that never quite reached eyes in the presence of Henry. 

“I hate losing.” The words are honest, and Ted appreciates it.

“Bird by bird, Coach.”

9

What book did he give you?

Don’t know, don’t care

“You tried to headbutt me!” Roy feels Jamie tug at his elbow, pulling him a distance away where the sounds of the club turn into background noise. It’s still risky, but they’re out of the way for the most part.

He’s surprised that even Jamie came outside. “When?”

“You just nutted Colin in the head! You thought it was me!”

And then I realized that it wasn’t. He shakes Jamie’s hand off him. “Fuck. I told you to speak to Colin and Isaac. You said you would, and you fucking didn’t.”

“Yeah, because it’s just a bit of bullshit; no one’s getting hurt, man.”

“Physically,” Roy says.

Jamie scoffs, and then Roy can hear the smirk that Jamie’s wearing as he says, “Look, some of the lads, and I mostly mean Nate, just need to toughen up, alright? It ain’t my fault that they’re, and again, I mostly mean, him, are wusses.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, you’re telling yourself that you’re in the right? That’s really what you’re going to go with?”

Jamie frowns, dragging him by the elbow further into the shadows. He keeps darting his eyes toward the opening of the alley. “Mate, you’re being weird. What's wrong with ya?”

He’s annoyed that he’s being put in this position. Ted is fucking with him and fucking it up. “I’m not fucking weird!”

“I said what I said,” Jamie says defiantly. “Go home, Roy.”

“Lay off Nate. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and gives him a reluctant nod of the head. He expects Jamie to leave him be, but Jamie remains, his hand darting out, and Roy feels Jamie searching his pocket for his phone. “Fuck off—” he starts, but Jamie’s already got his phone in hand, unlocked it, and shit, when did Roy give him his passcode? He stares, watching Jamie tapping at the screen. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Calling you an Uber. If you tell me you drove here, I’m gonna headbutt you.” Roy does not admit to anything. Jamie rolls his eyes. “Did you bring your glasses?” No, Roy’s not admitting to that either. “It’s 10 minutes away, and it’ll meet you at the front of the club.” Jamie holds the phone out to him, giving it a wiggle in the air when Roy doesn’t reach for it quickly enough. “I’m going back to my night. Don't wait up.”

He watches Jamie walk away.

Trent Crimm, Independent

Thank you.
-Ted Lasso, AFC Richmond

You see what I did there?

I did. 

Jamie bites at Roy’s bottom lip angrily before soothing it with a lick.

“You're being a prick." Roy doesn’t mean to be talking about this now. This is the worst fucking time and place to be discussing it. He’s breaking the rules. King Prick Jamie is off the clock.

Jamie leans away, pressing a hand to Roy’s chest, letting his fingers draw patterns through his chest hair. "Look, Lasso’s yeehaw shit ain't gonna make me a better player. He don’t even know the rules of the game."

"I'm talking about the other shit." Roy knows the locker room can be open season, but, fucking hell, the shit that Jamie spewed at Sam made his skin crawl. Sam is too fucking nice to be catching Jamie’s shit - even after all these months, they still haven’t been able to read each other, but at least Sam’s been trying.

Jamie waves him off. “Richmond is a shit fucking team, mate. I’m the best player you’ve got, and even then, you all fucking blow it.” Roy rolls his eyes and leans up to bite Jamie’s chin. “Ow, fuck off!”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re here, you’re getting minutes, so stop fucking complaining, alright?” He bucks up into Jamie, punching a moan out of him. “And stop bringing work home with you.”

“Stop being a prick to me at work then! If you just went along or ignored my shit, we wouldn't be getting into fights.”

“If you want a fucking sycophant, then go to one of your groupies, or, fuck, beg Keeley to tell you that you’re a good boy.” Jamie glares at him. “I’m not forcing you to be here.”

“Yeah, why am I fucking with you again?”

“Because you have a thing for my sweater,” he grits out. 

“Alright, I’m sorry about that.” When Roy cocks his brow, Jamie shakes his head. “I’m only sorry about that. Now can we get a move on? I'd like to be fucked in this century if you can manage it. Also, you broke the rule.”

“I know.” He runs a hand over Jamie’s sweat-slicked skin in apology.

Michelle

What do you mean he wants a snake?

I mean he wants a snake. His ‘new friend’ Alex has one. 

Henry is going to ask you for a snake 

I need you to tell him no. 

Are you also going to tell him no?

Yes! Ted, I do not want a snake in the house! 

Alright! Alright - next call, we’ll have a discussion. 
We’ll tell him no together. 

“We can’t let this go on.” Ted shakes his head as he watches the team continue to remain in two separate groups, even as they return to the locker room. Roy ignores Jamie completely, while Jamie, unable to help himself, continues to glance in Roy’s direction like he wants to be noticed. 

He sighs. He’s been racking his brains trying to make this work, but it’s not. Roy and Jamie are too different; the only thing they seem to have in common is a love for football.

“West Side Story…West Side Story…” he mutters under his breath. He surveys Beard who stretches into the sky before bringing his hands down to drag over his face like he’s exhausted. “Coach, give me movies with enemies banding together for the common good.”

“Rocky III, Return of the Jedi—” Beard begins, listing them off on his fingers. “—Thor: Ragnarok, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Toy Story, The Rocketeer—” he continues as they move into the corridor. “Yours, Mine and Ours, Zoolander—” Something starts to niggle at the back of Ted’s head, around Yours, Mine and Ours , and then it hits him.

“Coach, I think I got it,” he says, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Beard stares at him. “What’s the plan, Coach?”

“I’m gonna Parent-Trap them. I cannot tell you how long I believed Lindsay Lohan was a twin. Even now, I have to admit, I still don’t believe she was both Hallie and Annie. I wouldn’t be surprised if they cloned her. I mean, there’s some movie magic right there if ever I saw it.”

Beard looks at him. “Double shoots, stand-ins, and motion control photography - she's not a twin or a clone. And I love it… one problem, though. I’ve seen the seating chart, and Roy and Jamie are on completely opposite sides of the room.”

Oh. “How’d you know that?”

“I have my ways.”

“Right, well, I figured just a good ol’ switcheroo and sit-down was gonna cut it, but you know what? I’m gonna double-check with the boss.” He claps Beard on the shoulder, and veers off in search of Rebecca. 

9

You never told me about the poster

Why the fuck would I?

Also I told you I was a fan first time we met

Not my fault your ears don't work

Did you really bring someone else?

That’s idiotic. 

It’s for the brand. Keeley gets it

1000 pounds she won't

Ur on 

“Coach, wait up!” He catches up to Beard, who for some reason looks a little shocked. “Did you have a good night?” Beard doesn’t respond so Ted figures that he will ramble until Beard decides to interject. “That was some shindig, wasn’t it? Did you like the chicken? I thought it was pretty nice, actually. I wonder if they got one of those celebrity chefs to do the cooking—” He sees out of the corner of his eye Beard pinch the bridge of his nose. He stops. “Willis, I can keep talking if you want, but I can also be quiet.”

Beard instead asks, “What happened with the parent trap?”

A change in topic, easy. “Ah, I think I got them onto some common ground. Or at least Roy.” Ted pulls the tie out from his collar and starts to fold the material. Beard hums and it sounds… sad. 

“I don’t think it went well. Roy left alone; Jamie and Keeley also left separately.”

Ted was not expecting that. He puts his now-folded tie into his pocket. “You mean Jamie and Keeley broke up?” Beard nods. “Aw man, that’s just what I need. Now I’m dealing with brokenhearted on top of arrogant? Why is everything harder in this country?”

“Beats me, Coach,” Beard answers quietly.

He knows not to push, but he doesn’t like the idea of Beard being by himself—not with that look in his eyes. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

Nothing, and then a soft, “Yes, please.”

He purposely steps a little closer to his friend, making sure that their arms brush together as they walk. “You got it. The full Ted Lasso hotel treatment is coming your way.”

Thing 2 

Can you take Phoebe for a few hours? 

I’ve got to cover a shift tomorrow night. 

Yes

Thank you! ♥️

Sam Obisanya

You’re playing well Sam.

Keep doing what you’re doing!

Thanks Coach! 

Roy opens his door to a paper bag thrust into his chest. He wraps a hand around it; the crinkle loud in his otherwise quiet foyer.

"I bought you a muffin or something, grandad."

"Why?" He frowns and moves aside, letting Jamie into his house.

Jamie shrugs. "I don’t really know. Apparently, 'being accountable matters'," he explains, even putting quotation marks around the phrase that is definitely not his own.

He looks into the bag; it’s a scone. He likes scones. "Keeley?"

"Don’t know what she’s on about. I didn’t bid on you. She did."

She did, and while he appreciates that Keeley apologised, he would like it even more if Jamie realised why what he did to her (and him by extension) was so shitty. “You’re meant to be together in public."

A few months after they first started up, Jamie had freaked out, swearing up and down that a drone had peered through his bedroom window. Roy hadn’t known what to do, fighting the urge to pack up and move continents leaving Jamie behind. Instead he had told Jamie to breathe and that they could stop seeing each other because Jamie’s career was just starting, and Roy wasn’t an idiot—he knew Jamie could probably outclass him on the pitch; he just needed a chance to do so. He had been ready for them to just be teammates and had been surprised when Jamie showed up days later saying, "I fixed it. I’m gonna kinda date Keeley." Jamie had told Roy that it was okay with her; Keeley knew that Jamie was bisexual and that he was seeing another player, and that it all had to be ‘hush hush,’ as Jamie put it. It never stopped the guilty feeling Roy had though. He likes Keeley. She’s great and he would love to be friends with her but he can’t wrap his head around how to start forging a friendship with her when he’s the player she was unknowingly covering for.

"Yeah, but like I told her, it's good for the brand," Jamie explains, and there’s a tone in his voice that’s just a little done, like he’s annoyed that he has to explain it again.

"It’s not. It makes you look uncommitted. Keeley announced your breakup. ‘Disloyal Dipshit’ is trending on Twitter."

They haven’t moved from the foyer; Roy’s still near the door, the bag still clutched in his hand, and Jamie's standing there with his hands in his pockets looking only mildly put out as he asks, "She called me a ‘dipshit’?"

"No, one of your Jeeley fanatics."

"Oh…" Jamie shrugs. “Are you done with me too? Keeley said she’s not gonna cover for me anymore because of yesterday.”

Roy should be done with Jamie. He should’ve fucked him and kicked him out that first night. That was the mistake. He let Jamie stay, and now he can’t let Jamie leave. "You both made me feel like an idiot."

He wants Jamie to apologise, but he’s not going to fucking beg for it. "You're jealous,” and there’s surprise in Jamie’s voice.

Roy laughs, but it's bitter—of course Jamie has no idea what’s going on—how could he? "Do you think I like living like this?” He finally stalks forward, meeting Jamie chest to chest, wanting him to see. “I’m living that fucking boyfriend meme you sent because it’s the only way we’re going to work out there.”

It’s only then, as he stares into Jamie’s face, that he realises he’s said too much. He’s too exposed in his thin T-shirt, sleep shorts and bare feet. Cold rushes through him because…because…Jamie looks surprised, like this is all news to him. Roy said the word boyfriend, and Jamie’s eyes widened, and there was a split second of panic.

“Woah mate—” Jamie takes a step away from him, “—are you talking about ‘this is my boyfriend and this is his boyfriend’? We’re not—holy shit.” Jamie’s face tells Roy everything that he needs to know.

Roy has read this completely fucking wrong.

“Fuck, get out.” He pushes Jamie out the door, and Jamie goes easily, too surprised to fight back. Roy shuts the door, rests his back against it for a second, and then throws the scone bag against the wall. “Shit.”

9

Wait, were you sleeping with her too? 

Incoming Call
9

Keeley Jones

Sorry about the shit I said about you and Jamie

He’s still a bellend

Thanks Roy. And he has some good qualities.

They’re just really hidden sometimes. 

Do you want to have a coffee or something? 

Sure!

Beard

Coach, I may be a bit out of sorts over the next few days

Just want to apologise in advance

Michelle and I have agreed to ring the bell on us

Incoming Call
Beard

Keeley Jones 

Royoooo

Keeley

What are you doing?

Nothing, why?

I'm bored. Can you believe that I have a million things to do but cant be arsed

I'm taking my niece to the museum later

You can come along

Really?

She won’t mind?

Nah you can listen to her tell  you all sorts of weird shit I've heard it a million times before

She could do with a new audience.

He forgot to get his key back.

Jamie is a whirlwind through his house, angry energy turned up to eleven on the dial as he stomps through. “That fucking American arsehole!” Jamie shouts, kicking over the table. “He fucking benched me!”

No three knocks. No ‘Roy, I'm home.’ No cleansing of the day. Not that any of it really matters. None of it really mattered.

“Oi, get out and quit breaking my shit!” Roy shouts, quickly putting down the pan of chicken and moving into the living room. He swiftly surveys the minimal damage: an upturned side table and a tissue box on the floor, with Jamie frustrated and shooting daggers at him as if he were the one who had personally done it. “You fucking deserved it. Sooner you get it through your head that it's a team effort, the sooner you get off the bench.”

“You’re meant to be on my side!”

Roy snorts because this is the Jamie that he struggles with: the self-righteous, entitled shithead who believes his own bullshit. “As what? Your captain or your ex-fuckbuddy?” he asks, truly wanting to know.

“As my captain-fuck, no—both! Fuck, I don’t know!” Jamie’s mouth twists. “You said you were okay with it! Why the fuck did you change things?”

“Me change things?” Roy lets out a pained laugh. “I apparently misunderstood what I was signing the fuck up for. And I’m not the problem. What the fuck is happening with you? Ever since Lasso’s come on the scene, you’ve been an fucking cunt.”

Jamie snorts harshly. “No, I’m how I’ve always been, but you’ve changed! Telling me to quit messing around with the boys, always hovering around Sam like he’s gonna fucking break!”

He can’t keep a lid on it anymore; everything that he’s stored up, unable to say, comes spewing out of his mouth as Jamie stands there getting angrier and angrier. “It's bad enough off-pitch, the way you treat people, treat Sam, but you pulled it fucking on-pitch. Are you an idiot? Why are you struggling to understand this? Sam is your fucking teammate—he’s on your side! Nate is doing his fucking job, and you treat him like dirt. I’m a shit captain for not reining you in sooner.” Roy thinks back to Jamie talking about accountability and realises that he’s not been accountable for anything; he's been uninspiring and accepting mediocrity, not content with it and yet still unmotivated to change it. “Ted actually gives a fuck about how we’re all doing, and granted, the way he goes about it is so fucking sugary that it gives me a stomachache like I’ve eaten dairy, but he’s doing it for all of us—” Unlike you, he doesn’t finish. Jamie is silent, but Roy can see stubborn defiance fixed on his face. “You’re losing your shit because Catrick isn’t here to kiss the ground you walk on and now, neither will anyone else. Grow the fuck up,” he hisses.

Jamie’s fist clenches, and he takes a measured breath in and out. His voice is low when he speaks. “You're all useless. And you know what? I ain't gonna waste my time anymore. Fuck you,” he spits, turning on his heel and walking out the door.

KJ

Your niece is a genius!

How are you related?

No fucking idea.

I mean, she’s so happy 

Shes a fucking kid, of course shes happy.

“Nate, you go on ahead and make sure the boys are set up for practice. Coach and I will be out in a few minutes.” Nate hops off the windowsill and disappears out the door. Ted sinks into his chair, pressing his palms to his eyes. “Jamie will be upset, and it will light a fire under his ass if he feels like his position is being threatened.” He presses harder and groans. “Why is he being so difficult?” He brings his hands down and stares at Beard. “I shouldn't have yelled. It's the exact opposite of what Keeley said to do with him.”

Beard looks at him, surprised. “She told you not to yell at him?”

Ted shakes his head. “Actually, she told me that Jamie works best with blowjobs—” Ted knows that he’s making a face as Beard looks at him, mouth slightly agog. “But then she said he also does well with positive affirmation, and I figured that was more my style.”

“Believe me, she's right,” Beard volleys back.

Goddamn it Willis. “Shut up,” he mutters. It was one time, way back when.

“I’m just saying!” Beard exclaims as he stands up and moves, ready to go out to the pitch. He pauses at the door. “You already know what I'm going to say, but I'll say it again: you can’t make everyone like you. The world doesn’t work like that. We keep saying they’re kids—Roy aside, obviously—but they’re legally adults who get paid an obscene amount of money to do a job.”

“No, no, I know all that,” he agrees quickly. He blows out a breath and then finds his feet, gathering his things.

He just wants something to work over here.

He needs something to work over here.

AFC Players (Announcements)

Reminder: show up and bring your shit. 

If you dont fucking show up you'll be strung between thefucking goal posts.

Do not reply to this message. 

Tom O'Brien
So no different from usual. 

 O'Brien, Zorreux -
 if you dont show up you're on laundry.

Thierry Zorreux 
You couldntve kept your mouth shut?

Dani Rojas
I will try and be there Roy Kent.

Richard Montlaur
Merde 

Isaac McAdoo
It says dont reply.  

Dani Rojas
I am sorry for replying Roy Kent. 

And for that reply.

And that. Aye I cannot help it.

Someone fucking direct him to general. 

O'Brien this is your fault. I'm fining you.

Ted’s looking at them like a proud father, calling them a "cuddle puddle," and making Roy want to rip his mustache off and beat him with it because it sounds so stupid, but there really is no better name for 20-odd footballers lying around on the pitch with at least one limb resting on someone else.

If he cranes his neck, he can see a few of the lads lying against his lower legs, passing bottles of something between them. Where the extra alcohol came from he has no fucking idea. “Fuck, Lasso? Are you canceling practice?”

From somewhere, Ted’s voice carries over. “Why, yes, I am. Morning off; we’ll do video review and workout.”

There are a few groans of thanks, and chatter breaks out.

“Coach, where do you keep finding firewood?” Ted's voice rises above the din.

There's a beat, and then Beard responds, “It’s better you don’t know.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ted’s a cult leader, Roy thinks, as he flops back onto the grass. He spies someone coming in from his side, and then Jamie comes into view, firelight still flickering across his skin.

He debates getting up, it feels too vulnerable, laying flat on the ground with Jamie hovering over him, but getting up feels like conceding; and he doesn’t want to do that either. Instead he raises himself on his elbows, and looks up, feigning disinterest. “Can I help you?”

Jamie gives him a hesitant look, his eyes scanning down to where some of the lads are lying on him. “I—uh…”

Roy sighs. “Oi—” He slowly moves, trying to dislodge limbs from him. “I don’t know when I agreed to be your fucking pillows, but I’ve sobered up and you can all lie on someone else, alright?”

There are a few discontent grumbles but they all move; some of them army-crawling across to someone else. He spies Dani flopping over Richard who’s sitting slumped against Isaac. Isaac seems to be holding court—Roy spies a few of the other lads surrounding him. “Isaac’s telling them a story about…something…I wasn’t quite following,” Jamie explains, fidgeting with his sleeves.

Right. “What do you want?”

“Nothing…” Jamie starts, trailing off. He waits. Jamie gracefully folds himself down, sitting cross-legged, knees bent toward Roy's body. “I didn’t realise what was happening between you and me, and with Keeley and…having to pretend. It got all mixed up in my head. We were good those first few months, weren't we, Roy?” He speaks quietly, his eyes drifting around every now and again when he thinks people are nearing them.

There’s a little hit to his heart when Jamie says that their first few months were good, because it’s not a total lie. “What?” he eventually asks. 

Jamie takes a breath. “Can I come home with you?”

“You miss getting fucked that much, huh?” It just comes out, and it's blunt enough to surprise Jamie, whose body sways back ever so slightly. Roy doesn’t feel bad saying it—he’s not trying to hurt Jamie. It’s not about that. He’s just making sure they’re on the same page because, fuck, he didn’t realize how much they weren’t.

Jamie opens and closes his mouth a few times, searching for words, settling on: “It ain't about that. I could pull anyone—we both know you're not my only option.” It’s true, and Jamie is looking at him without malice. He’s just stating a fact. 

He misses Jamie. He wants to say yes. “It's probably not a good idea.” Jamie nods as if he was expecting it.

“That’s fair,” Jamie says, fingers fiddling with his shoe laces, pulling and then retying. Roy watches Jamie’s movement - his fingers fluid, just like on the pitch. Roy wants so much. How is any of this fair? 

Roy sits up and turns his body enough that no one would see him punch Jamie lightly in the knee; struggles for a moment with what to say before eventually landing on, “Hey, no one is out to get you.”

Jamie’s fingers stop, and he looks at Roy, surprised. “Did you speak to Keeley?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing,” Jamie says quickly.

“You've never talked about your family before.”

“Like I said…I haven’t done much to make Mum proud. She’s the best…and…I’ve done myself no favors. I don't want the lads to get the wrong idea about her.”

“Jamie Tartt—mummy’s boy.” Something in Jamie’s face changes, a hard edge appearing where the softness was before, and before Jamie can swear at him, he interjects because he honestly is not saying what Jamie is probably thinking. “I’m not giving you shit—” he sighs and gestures for Jamie to follow him. “Gonna get some water,” he tells Ted as they pass by. Inside, Roy tries door handles until one of them opens and gestures Jamie inside. “We don’t talk about family much. You’ve never really said anything about your dad.”

“Because he’s a bastard; don’t wanna waste my breath.”

“Okay.” Roy can sense that there’s more behind it, but there's a strong sense of ‘do not go there’ in the air. “Phoebe, my niece, her dad’s a shitcunt,” he offers, and Jamie accepts it with a small twist of his mouth. The ‘do not go there’ air remains, and Roy asks instead, “Why did you come here? Tonight?”

Jamie’s gaze fixes on his. “I thought I was doing alright. I’m by myself—”

“Jamie—” Roy cuts in, wanting to hold Jamie by the shoulders and shake him. Wanting to ask what the fuck Jamie thought they were doing for all those months when Jamie had a key to his house.

“—and that’s okay, because I’m fucking great…but I dunno, I’m-I’m good at football, I need to be brilliant at it because, I don’t…I can’t have mates here.” Roy barely makes heads or tails of Jamie’s words, there are too many half-spoken sentences to try and thread together. Jamie’s face falls, and his shoulders round a little more. “In my head, we couldn’t be more and then you said-you said what you did, and that was…I don’t know what it means…what do you want from me?”

Roy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a little headachey. “Get your shit, we’re going home.” Jamie’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Ah…okay?”

“I’m sleeping like shit without you,” he admits. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Jamie just stares at him for a few seconds. Roy can’t bring himself to admit fully what he wants, and he knows there’s going to be confusion down the line but for now, it’s enough. “Yeah, sure, I’ll help you out.” 

Keeley Jones

These sorts of deals take time but I’ll ask!

No worries! I’m just putting it out there.
I think I could bring a new market for Tom Ford!

Ted sways a little as he bumps shoulders with Beard. "I think things may be turning around for us, Coach."

"What do you mean?" They decide to walk off the night after making sure that everyone had been poured into Ubers and safely sent on their way.

"Jamie."

"That was nice. He really got into the spirit of things."

"Well, that and Roy called him 'Jamie' to his face. I don’t think I've heard him do that before."

Beard hums. "Promising signs."

"Look, I know neither of them will fully put up a white flag. It's not in their nature, especially not Roy's, but we've got our building blocks. Now it's time to actually build a team. I think we can do this.”

“We can.” 

“Thank you.” He looks at Beard. “I know I’ve thanked you before, but sometimes, it never seems like enough.” Beard doesn’t try to cut in, he must sense that Ted has things to say. “When I got the offer to come here, the main thing I needed to know was that you could come with me. And then when I asked, I don’t think I even got out a full sentence before you said yes.” He flings his hand out, hitting Beard’s chest, stopping his movement. “Why did you say yes?” 

Beard looks at him consideringly, and then shrugs. “Because you asked.”

Thing 2

Uncle Roy! Hum and then pinch your nose! 

Pleeeeaaaase!!! 

Roy wakes to the sound of shattering glass and bolts upright in bed. The space next to him is empty, the sheets cold to the touch. "Jamie?" There's no answer, and he quickly makes his way to the kitchen. He only just notices that light is peeking through the curtains.

Jamie stands with his shoulders hunched.

He makes a move, mindful of stepping on broken glass, his hand reaching out for the younger man, but Jamie leans away, out of reach. "What's wrong?" Roy asks.

"I've got to go pack," Jamie replies.

"I've got a washer and dryer - run your clothes here. We've got time," Roy reminds him. It's not about Jamie having a lack of clean clothes; Roy's not an idiot. But he doesn't have context yet, and he's not sure that Jamie will give it to him.

"No, I have to go," Jamie says.

"Oi...as far as I'm aware, your schedule is the same as mine," Roy points out, looking down and catching sight of a broken hexagonal base. "Did you break my favorite glass?"

Jamie's eyes dart to the broken glass and then away to the cabinet. "It's from a pack of six. They're all the same," he says dismissively.

"No, they're not. They're different; I can tell," he insists.

Roy's words spark some anger in Jamie. For the first time since he's come down, Jamie looks him in the face, but his expression is closed off - angry, but if Roy looks hard enough, he can see that Jamie is hurt. "You're a fucking liar. You're lying, and Coach is lying to me too," Jamie accuses.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Roy asks, confused and irritated, because it's too early in the morning to be called a liar, and, well, he thought they were doing okay after last night. Jamie followed him home, hesitating at the threshold, and Roy had rolled his eyes and told him to get the fuck into the house. They'd basically gone straight to bed, Jamie's movements hesitant and cautious, like he was waiting for Roy to change his mind, but Roy never did. Roy went to sleep with his back pressed against Jamie's chest and Jamie's arm pulled over his stomach. Being accused of lying was not how he expected to wake up in the morning. "And I'm not fucking lying. Phoebe engraved the bottom of them last year. Mine has a bee because it's hexagon-shaped," Roy explains.

Jamie's intake of breath is sharp before he twists, reaching for the remaining glasses and checking them carefully in the poor light. He says "fuck" a few times before he bows his head, holding a glass out in Roy's line of sight. "It's safe," he says softly.

"Good," Roy grunts. "Now, what's wrong?"

"Can't tell you here. It's about work. It's breaking the rule," Jamie replies.

"Jamie," Roy says, approaching slowly and nudging glass aside with his slippers, clearing a path for when Jamie decides to get out of the mess. "Look, I don't know about you, but the rule has been fucking stupid, and we're no fucking good keeping to it. Tell me."

He waits, and then Jamie says, "I fucked it, and now I've got to go home."

"So you keep saying," Roy says, his tone dry.

Jamie shakes his head. "Nah, mate, I mean Manchester. I've been recalled to City--"

"What the fuck–"

"--so I need to go and pack and move," Jamie explains. "See, it's all mind games with Lasso--"

"He wouldn't," Roy interrupts. "That doesn't make any fucking sense!" There's no way that Ted is that much of an idiot.

"Doesn't it?" Jamie asks. "I was a massive prick to him. You saw him yell at me!"

Roy rolls his eyes at that. "Because you were a fucking twat about practice."

"Yeah, so...there we go. Rojas is going to fucking take Richmond, and..." Jamie trails off, closing his mouth completely instead of trying to find the words to finish his sentence.

"And what?" Roy prompts.

"Roy, mate, this--" Jamie gestures between them "--can't keep going. I'm just saying. I don't know how to do long distance."

Roy's heart sinks. He's being broken up with again. Does the fact that they were barely back together yesterday even count? Has he been broken up twice now…one and a half times... one and a quarter... just a quarter, because Jamie didn't even think they were together the first time? Jamie's staring at him, and Roy looks at him properly. The rounded shoulders are back, Jamie's hands twisting in his shirt. At least Jamie got out of bed and put shorts on. "Would you try it? Long distance?" Roy asks, trying to sound casual.

"Really?" Jamie's surprised. Roy is too, to be honest.

This is going to be shit. He's never really managed a long-distance relationship. Like he can barely manage this one and Jamie's just standing in his kitchen. "You're going to be what, three hours away? You make it sound like I'm in the Antarctic. We take turns to drive to each other. There are phone calls and texts, you dramatic dickhead," Roy says, trying to reassure him.

"Are you being serious? You're not messing with me?" Jamie asks, a hint of hope in his voice.

"Does that sound like me?" Roy asks. It is a little, if he’s in the mood for it, but right now, he’s really not.

"Nah, ya right, that's me," Jamie says, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Jamie," Roy growls, and finally reaches for Jamie's hand, pulling him away from the glass on the floor.

"If you...if you're sure, then yeah. I mean, really?" Jamie asks, still disbelieving.

Roy rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to the middle of Jamie's forehead. "Yes, you idiot."

"Alright," Jamie says, a small smile on his face. It disappears quickly though. "Fuck, I've got to go back to City...fuck, my dad's going to be there." He groans, pushing his face into Roy's neck. Roy tangles his fingers in Jamie's hair. The second mention of Jamie's father in as many hours has him feeling uneasy.

"We should talk to Lasso," Roy suggests.

"You can't. When you find out, you have to be happy about it - you hate my guts, remember?" Jamie says, his voice muffled against Roy's skin.

"I do not hate your guts," Roy corrects him. It was all just for show...mostly...

"He sent me back. It's just business," Jamie mumbles. 

"I'll help you pack," Roy offers, he rubs Jamie’s back, slow and gentle, trying to offer some semblance of comfort.

"Nah, mate, it's okay," Jamie says.

"Jamie, let me," Roy insists. 

Jamie shakes his head, pulling away to look at him. “You can’t. News about me going back will come out and I’m gonna be followed. We both know what it’ll look like. And as if Roy Kent would be caught dead helping me pack…unless it was to, I dunno, throw me and all my shit into a volcano or something.” 

Roy hates that Jamie’s right. He presses his lips to Jamie’s temple. “At least let me send you off with breakfast.” 

“Now?” As if to prove a point, Roy pulls away, quickly puts a broom in Jamie’s hand to clear the broken class, and begins opening the fridge pulling ingredients out. He sees Jamie take a second before shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah…alright. Thanks Roy.” 

Thing 2

Uncle Roy! Hum and then pinch your nose! 

Pleeeeaaaase!!! 

I can’t - what the fuck?!

It’s weird isn’t it? Also you owe Phoebe a pound. 

Ted’s just finishing up some reports when he hears footsteps approaching and then, “I can't figure you out.”

"I'm an open book, Roy. You just gotta flip to a page,” he replies, putting his pen down and giving Roy his full attention because Roy doesn’t seek him out for mindless chit chat.

"You saw that little prick last night. All that kumbaya bullshit you’d been sprouting got through to him. He led the Richmond chant. I've watched him for months keep his fucking mouth shut every time it’s been sung—” It takes him a second, only realising what Roy is talking about when he mentions the chant— Jamie . Ted looks at Roy, waiting. “—so why the fuck would you send him back now that he bought into your hippie bullshit?”

He had been watching Roy carefully because when the team found out, he honestly thought that Roy might’ve smiled slightly—hell, a grin would’ve been the equivalent of Roy doing cartwheels—but no, barring a furrow of brows, it was like Jamie never even existed, and now Roy is at his door… advocating for him? “Roy, I didn't send him back. That decision came from up high, and I was told of it after it had already happened.”

“How could you have not known? As manager of the team, it's your job to know this shit."

That’s what I thought. Ted barely stops himself from thanking Roy for confirming that fact because that’s not a conversation that he should be having with his players… but he’s not even sure he can have that conversation with Rebecca without being dismissed again. “You're right, it is my job to know this. The team’s hurting from this,” he says. Roy snorts. “If the team’s hurting from this,” Ted amends, “then I can only apologise. This was beyond my control. Believe me—I would rather Jamie be here.”

“Really?”

“I once told Jamie that he was the best athlete I'd ever seen. That continues to hold true, no offense. I had hoped that with the right support, he'd also be a remarkable man.” Roy stares at him. “There's a cloud lining here, though… I’ll let you pick the color.”

“What?”

“No one's gonna call you grandad anymore.”

Roy grunts and disappears from the door leaving Ted extremely confused. 

9

Are you okay? Miss me yet?

Mummy and Simon’s so happy to see me.

It's weird not hearing you snore

I DONT SNORE YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!

No

9
Incoming call.

Michelle

Dad is it true???

Jamie’s not at Richmond anymore?!

Why??

Sorry kiddo. Jamie’s team is Manchester City.

We were just lucky enough to borrow him for a little while.

Will he ever come back?

I don’t know - maybe we’ll be lucky again.

9

Good luck lad. 

How much did it hurt to type that out?

Boo richmond obviously but...

Fuck Everton up baby.

Ted's ears are still ringing.

Or maybe he's imagining it.

That was really out of nowhere.

His fingers are cold. He thinks he's shaking.

He can't even bring himself to check his phone, which vibrates in his pocket.

When he gets back to the hotel, he pauses, unsure of what to do. If you're shivering, get warm, some part of his brain thinks. "Get warm," he mutters. In the bathroom, he turns the taps on and backs away when he feels his legs start to give out. He sits on the toilet lid, watching the steam slowly engulf the bathroom.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breath out—

His phone buzzes again, and he clumsily pulls it out of his pocket. He swipes a notification away. There's a text from Willis asking where he is. He types out that he's okay, just overwhelmed and exhausted from all the excitement. "I lost my mind for a bit," he doesn't say, pressing the corner of the phone against his forehead. He imagines creating a divot in his skull.

A panic attack...out in the middle of the street... what am I going to do about that?

His phone rings, startling him. He almost drops it to the floor, but saves it just in time. Rebecca's name flashes across his screen. "H-hey Rebecca, what's up?"

"Ted, I just wanted to check that you made it back to the hotel."

The consideration touches him, making his eyes water. He presses the heel of his palm to his eyes, overwhelmed. "Yep, sure did! I am A-OK." He chews on his lip the second the lie is out of his mouth. "I'm just gonna take a shower and go to bed."

"That sounds good," Rebecca says.

"I'm-thank you, for helping me earlier. I'm sorry about that."

He can hear surprise in her voice. "Ted, that's never something to apologise for. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know...just, didn't mean to...not quite how to end a night like that you know?" He's so thankful that it didn't happen in the club, that he could get out without his team seeing and worrying about him. 

It's not their job to.

9

FUCK EVERYONE 🖕

Omg an emoji. How smashed are you?!

FUCK DVDFONG

EVERTON*

You fucking beauty

Wish we could celebrate

Call me when you’re free ❤️😘

OK

Pep Guardiola

Is Jamie adjusting back?

He’s quiet. 

Ted, you should be concerned for your team.

Jamie will be fine, I worked with him first, remember?

I know, I know. Can’t help it. 

He’ll always be a part of Richmond.

Hey thanks for letting me pick your brain.

Anytime.

Beard keeps looking at the window. “What’s happening?” Ted asks, finally putting his phone down. His mother is awake and texting him church news that apparently needs an immediate response. She gets like this sometimes— a little frustrated with him, a little clingier despite the ocean between them, forever unwilling to talk about the why of it all.

“Roy seems happier. He has been since Jamie left,” Beard observes.

Ted frowns. “That’s not really a surprise, is it? Considering how they were, Roy being lighter somehow seems like a given.”

“He keeps going on his phone. The guys think that he might be seeing Keeley.”

Ohh. Ted walks over to look out of the window. Roy’s sitting on the bench, no longer looking at his phone, instead watching as Isaac and Dani grapple with each other. “Five bucks on Dani.” The boys are cheering and making bets. Dani is all smiles as he gets Isaac into a headlock, only for it to quickly disappear as Isaac somehow gets out and slings Dani over his shoulder—he roars in triumph. “That tracks then. She’s literal sunshine. If anyone could get him to smile, it would be her.”

Beard hums. “Ted, you know we’re going to have to talk about it?”

He knows, but he’s going to delay it for as long as he can. Roy’s the captain. That can’t change. He reaches into his wallet and pulls out the money, pressing it into Beard’s waiting palm. “Not yet.”

KJ

Roy, that card we took from the paps…

It had other photos of me and someone else.

From like earlier in the year.

Stalking? 

Blackmail I think.

Outgoing call
KJ

“This is weird, right?” He’s cooking with Jamie on speakerphone. “We’ve never really talked—”

“We talk loads of times!”

“—on the phone,” Roy finishes.

For a few moments, Jamie’s silent; then there is a crash followed by a yelp and Jamie swearing. He’s trying to put together a bookshelf. Jamie’s stepfather is away, and his mother offered to hire someone. Jamie scoffed, "What kind of son would I be, letting some dickhead charge her an arm and a leg when she can have mine for free?"

“Jamie?”

“I’m alright! Just dropped something. Oh, right, that’s true…we probably should have done that more instead of texting.”

He thinks about his media training—once non-existent as he was coming up through the years, but now a staple that they all have to go through. “Do you delete your texts?”

“Fuck, should I have? I like reading them when I’m bored.” That’s actually really sweet.

“Just don’t lose your phone.” That’s the last thing they need. He opens the fridge and rifles through, looking for an unopened tub of Greek yogurt.

“Our texts are boring. We don’t sext or nothing.” He can hear the complaint in Jamie’s voice and rolls his eyes.

“But they paint enough of a picture.”

“You reckon?”

“Jamie, you wrote that you missed me six times yesterday.”

“That could be like a friend!”

“We’re not friends in public!” Roy reminds him.

He hears Jamie pout. “Fine, I’ll try and move them off my phone—but I’m keeping them somehow. Can I print texts?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “I don’t fucking know.” He lets the silence linger.

Jamie scoffs. “Right, that’s on me. I should've known better than to ask the fucking dinosaur.”

“I'm hanging up,” he threatens. “Three—”

“Fuck…oh my god, why are you like this?" Jamie groans.

It says a lot about him that he actually loves riling Jamie up. “Because you’re being mean. Two—”

“You’re a prick.”

“Jamie—”

“Alright, alright! I'm sorry! Don’t hang up, I’ve got something important to say.” And then Jamie says nothing.

“Jamie?” He moves closer to the phone; he sees that Jamie is still on the line. “I can’t hear anything if you're talking.”

“No, I'm here. Roy, I was thinking, and you were right about us being apart. Like, we can talk about work now, can’t we? You can tell me about you and the team, and I can be a git about it?”

Unsure as to where this is going, he eyes the phone warily. “I suppose.”

Jamie stays silent, and then quietly, as if the words are being pulled out through his teeth, he says, “You’re not playing well, man.”

In his kitchen, all alone, Roy hangs his head. “Fuck, I know.”

Keeley Jones

Hey Ted

We need to talk. Do you have some time?

Sooner the better.

Uhoh 

Are you breaking up with me?

Those words are never the start to good news.

No…they’re not. 

I can’t today…tomorrow? 
I’m finishing late. We can do dinner, my shout?

Sure.

Can you at least give me a hint?

This will be better in person. 

At least there’ll be alcohol.

Well I’m feeling all sorts of knots in my stomach.
Tomorrow it is.

Ted’s not stupid; he’s just a little blinkered. That’s why Beard is here with him. Beard sees all.

It’s late. He’s in bed; feels unsettled enough after the pub that he can’t quite get to sleep. His phone rings on the bed, and he wants to let it go, but he reaches over to see who it is. He blinks in surprise at the name on the screen. He puts aside his iPad. “Willis?”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, but I’m not sorry for what I said,” Beard states. 

Ted nods his head at no one. “You’re right,” he sighs. “I just… it feels like I’m putting down my dog.” He tilts his head to the ceiling, as if there are answers written on the paint above him.

He hears Beard’s breathing over the line. It’s soothing. “You are. It’s a kindness. If Roy keeps playing how he is, everyone is going to remember him as a has-been playing past his prime. Roy deserves better than that. We all know it. He probably knows it too, but he’s been doing this for so long he doesn’t know any other way to be. It’s not like the States—they were young. They had years left, and they could pivot to other careers if football didn’t work out for them. Roy’s different.”

“Old dog,” Ted murmurs. 

Beard sighs. “Old dog.”

Damn, the next couple of days are going to suck. 

Beard

Just as an FYI, Jane's going to periodically look at through my phone.

I'm pretty sure there are a few privacy issues around that.

Outgoing call
Beard

Pick up your phone Willis.

Jane give Willis his phone.

Incoming call 
Beard

“Ted!”  

"Oh shoot! Keeley, hi! I forgot about our plans. Just give me a second." He looks up, and see’s Keeley’s sparkle and shine hover in the door. “Come in!” He continues to finish up his final emails but watches her slide into a chair, he eyes darting around the office, before finally landing on him. She looks tired, he realises. “Are you okay?” 

“Ted,” she begins softly. “I don’t know how to…” She stops and bites her lip. 

He has a hunch about what this dinner is about. “Rebecca told me everything,” he says, and his hunch is proven right when Keeley slumps into the chair like her strings have been cut.

"Thank Christ!" she breathes out and then no longer having to shoulder the burden of the secret, her shoulders rise and she starts talking rapidly. "I hadn’t figured out how I was gonna say it, 'cause she was my friend and your boss; and you’re my friend too! And if you leave now, we are truly fucked."

He smiles, unable to help it. "I'm not leaving."

She blinks at him. "You’re not?" 

"Nope. Like I told her, divorce makes you crazy. She’s not a bad person, just a hurt person."

The words seem to strike a chord. "I really like her, Ted and I was so pissed when I found out what she did. I’m still pissed off!”

That's understandable. "As you should be."

"But you're not?" 

"I'm upset at her because her decisions affected others. Like you and Jamie may have broken up…and obviously, the team would have suffered. I mean some would argue that they have suffered under my leadership,” he admits, and brushes off her quick attempts to tell him that it’s not true. “But, I'm here now. I can only do what I can, and I think that now I will actually have her full support. Did you talk it out with her?"

"Not completely. I just wanted her to come clean to you." 

“She has.” He feels warmth radiate from her; happy that he’s someone that she’s allowed to fall into her care. "Thank you, for looking out for me, Keeley. I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too, Ted."

He steeples his fingers under his chin, elbows pressed to the desk. "Now listen, I have to ask. You and Roy, what’s the story there?"

She blinks at him and then laughs. "We’re just friends, Ted. There’s no story there."

Well that’s just bizarre. "No...that can’t be right."

She shrugs. "Don't get me wrong, Roy’s hot in like a tall, dark, and broody way." She leans forward resting her hands on his desk. "Like, I would absolutely climb him like a tree. We just haven’t...we’re not really moving in that direction." She leans back. He stares trying to see if she's upset, but she's still smiling, bright eyed, and happy. "That’s okay. Being friends with him is great and oh my god, his niece is the cutest! Have you met her?"

"Phoebe's an adorable little button. Also has a killer aim." He rubs his nose - phantom pain suddenly emerging.

He looks at her; finds himself thinking that Roy’s an idiot. "You know if you want me to talk to him..."

She practically leaps up. "Oh my god. Ted, if you tell him anything about this conversation, I will murder you. He will murder you." She presses her hands to the desk and looms over him. Her pony tail definitely adds to her height advantage. “Promise me you will not say a word to him.” 

"Alright, alright!" he says quickly, holding his hands up. "No murder. My lips are sealed.” She stares at him for another second before moving down. “Okay, let me just send these last two emails and then we can go for dinner.” 

“Great!”

Nate the Great

Ted, could I run a few plays by you?

"Are we gonna have phone sex like the olden days?"

He’s going to ignore that for now. "Would it kill you to say something nice about Richmond?" He knows that the video was useful to see; Jamie slagging them off. The team needs a fire under them, and if Jamie openly provides it, then so be it. But still, he feels a bit bad for Ted.

"So that's a no to phone sex."

"Later."

"Sound. And I can be plenty nice about Richmond. Just…don’t wanna."

"Little bitch," he teases gently but somehow he misses the mark. 

"Ease off—I'm making the best of a situation, alright?” He hears Jamie sigh.

“What's wrong?”

“It’s—it's stupid. You're gonna laugh.”

“I won't.”

“Roy.”

“Much,” he amends. Tell me.” He’s surprised when the call changes to video. Roy accepts and sees Jamie lying in bed, wearing a shirt that he knows was buried deep in the back of his cupboard. “You nicked my shirt.”

“I nicked loads of them. Gonna sell them for 50p to the estate kids. Although, no one up here woulda been crazy enough to want your shit ‘cept me.” Jamie grins at him, but then it morphs into something softer. “It's stupid, 'cause I know we've never really talked about it…” Jamie hesitates, his eyes shifting away and then back to the screen. “I started at Richmond like over a year ago.”

Oh. Oh, fuck. He knows what Jamie’s trying to say. They didn’t even make it to the end of Jamie’s first week before they fell into bed together.

He’s silent for too long. On screen, Jamie’s face shutters slightly, regret filling his features. “Roy…look, don’t say anything. Forget I mentioned it.”

“No, wait.” More than a year already—sort of? Is it a year? Does it count? “I…didn’t realise. I didn’t get you—” Fuck, he didn’t keep track of dates, he didn’t think about presents. He’s already fucking it up. 

“No! I wasn’t looking for that,” Jamie says quickly, his eyes wide, and knowing. “Roy, I just…I know that-shit. I want this to work. Are you good with that?”

“I am. Are you?” Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows what this is for him, and he shoots Jamie a look, hoping that it'll be enough for him to understand.

“Yeah,” Jamie says and then completely shifts tone with the arch of his brow, and a lewd grin. “Hey so, phone sex.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Get your shirt off.” 

“You too,” Jamie says quickly, the phone still in his hand, undulating as he moves. 

“I’m not wearing a-” he starts, a little confused because he can see himself in the screen, and it's obvious that he’s not wearing a shirt, and then he realises and glares at Jamie who is poking his tongue out. “Oh, fuck off.” 

The little prick blows him a kiss. 

9

Who'd make a good captain?

Why?

Ted want's me to pick a new captain. Won't make his own fucking decision.

If you give it to Sam I'm never fucking you again.

I should give it to Sam.

Fuck you.

Nate the Great

Ted, could I run a few plays by you?

Ted?

Look I think they'd be really useful.

Sorry man!

Would love to hear what you've cooked up! Tomorrow!

Thing 2

Roy, could you take Phoebe for the night?

Shit, I can't.

Would you be alright if Keeley looked after her?

We've been hanging out, Phoebe likes her.

Hanging out?

Do tell.

She's gorgeous.

Friends.

And ease up. So you're okay with Keeley covering me?

You vouch for her?

100% Keeley's the best. 

"What did you do?" 

Sitting at his kitchen counter, the someone who looks like Jamie but clearly isn’t Jamie swivels his chair. "I bought you a coffee, old man.” A cup is held in Roy’s line of sight. "Give it to you for a kiss."

"I meant your hair," Roy says. Yes, he’s seen it on the screen and he’s had pictures sent to him but to see it in person is...something else.

"Oh," Jamie's eyes narrow, probably already able to read the fact that Roy thinks he looks like a git. "It's called style."

Roy snorts, finally taking the cup and taking a sip. "Looks like you've got a fucking helmet on instead of hair."

"It's distinguished!" Jamie says.

Maybe in the 1920s, Roy thinks, and then immediately adds, When you were born, Grandad. Jesus, he even mocks himself in Jamie's voice, the little shit. He reaches out, letting his fingertips trace some of Jamie's hairline. "I hate it. It'll be gross if I run my hands through it."

Jamie hums. "Alright...you may have the slightest point there."

"You look like a fucking Lego figure," Roy says.

"I get the picture, Roy," He finally kisses Jamie, smiling into it like an idiot. Jamie starts smiling in response. "Why're you laughing?" he asks, pulling away.

"I'm not laughing," Roy says.

"I'm trying to snog you; it's serious business, this," Jamie says, pressing another kiss to Roy's lips and punctuating it with one on the corner of his mouth.

Finally, Roy draws back, looking at him. "What are you doing here?" 

"I just wanted to see you once before the game,” Jamie says. “Don't know what's going to happen, but when Richmond loses–"

"Oi! We're not going to lose," Roy interjects, because Jamie's insulting Roy in his house and really?

Jamie scoffs. "Mate, come on."

"Tartt," Roy says.

"Like this is our job, right?" Jamie asks.

"Yes," Roy replies.

"And it won't affect us...because we had the rule, and it didn't really work, and it's been good, actually, us not being on the same team. But now we're playing against each other, and I'm not going to go easy on you lot."

"If you go easy on us you better fucking hang your boots up after the season.”

"Just checking," Jamie says. "Alright, I should go before they send out a search party. Can't have their lord and savior missing."

"You egotistical little prick," he huffs in awe.

Jamie wiggles his brows and sticks his tongue out before leaning in to brush his lips against Roy's cheek and running out the door. "Later, babe!"

Mom

Teddy, if this doesn’t work out, are you moving back to the states?

I don’t know but let’s not write us off just yet.

Of course not.

9

I’m pretty sure my dad’s here. 

Might not be able to see you after the game.

Okay. 

Let me know if you need me. 

Michelle

Henry said his robot is a great coach, just like his dad!

We’re proud of you, Ted.

“Coach.” He spies Beard walking to the office and pulls him into an alcove. 

Beard looks at him, concerned. “Are you okay? You look…” He makes some gestures that might indicate frazzled, maybe? 

“I saw…” he should say something about Jamie, but what? Jesus, poor Jamie . “I just need a minute,” he says instead, pressing a hand over his heart, trying to stop the absolute dread running through his system. Focus on the immediate. We just got relegated. “Winning is not everything, but it's important…in this context, it's important.”

It was. “Bit late for the realisation,” Beard says softly.

He nods. “I know, you told me. My bad. I'm sorry. Shit…they played their hearts out.”

“They did.”

He can finally feel his heart rate slow somewhat. “I fucked up.” 

“It's been known to happen. You need to talk to the team.”

“Yeah,” he says, trying to figure out what to say. “I just might need a minute.” 

Beard gives him another look. “I’m going to go and gather everyone who needs to be there. Come in when you’re ready, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, turning away to collect himself. He feels Beard poke his back. He turns to see Beard smiling at him. “What?”

“Jamie made an extra pass.” 

He knows it’s not his place to get involved - you don’t involve yourself in another’s family, a rule of his mother’s (although with an exception for gossip). He feels deep down that Jamie wouldn’t want him to - that it might make everything worse for him, and the last thing he wants to do is make anything worse for him. “Coach, I wanna give something to Jamie, would you pass it to him before their bus leaves?”

9

Good game

Congratulations

We’ll get City next time

As Ted gives his final speech of the season, Roy can't help but feel warm. Keeley stays with him, and he doesn’t care what it looks like to the others because it’s nice having her here. The players begin to clear out, post match rituals, doctors and physios checking in, the chaos feels like it can go on forever, but eventually it starts to wind down. 

He’s been checked over, a pair of crutches and a brace put on his knee. There are quiet murmurs of surgery that he tries to ignore, but he knows that he can’t.  

Through it all, Keeley remains, sitting under the number 6, her eyes fixed on her phone, or pulled into conversation with those who are still finishing up. He hobbles back into the room and eventually sits, his leg stretched out before him, knee slightly red and swollen. “Why did you come down here?”

Keeley scrutinises him. “Because you needed someone.” She cups his face. “And you're going to need someone.” 

I’ve got someone, he doesn’t say, but he wants to, so badly. 

She lets him go. He rests his head on her shoulder, letting himself finally feel the exhaustion. “Keeley, I think I’m finished.” He doesn’t choke up, that was then, this is now, and he feels like it’s over. He’s aware that he may think completely differently tomorrow. He’s seen it before, players switching between confidence and denial, unable to let go until they’re physically stopped, or something clicks in their head. 

Her hand grips his tightly. “Oh, sweetheart,” and she leaves it at that. He’s thankful that she doesn’t tell him it will be alright, or that he could still play. “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to; I can manage.”

“Roy, shut it, yeah? Let me do this for you.”

9

You must be wrecked which is fine but text me or something

Jamie? Where are you? 

Oi, prick tell me you're alive.

Jamie doesn't respond, his socials are dead. Roy feels like he’s been placed in limbo.

Keeley checks in on him; texts messages and visits. He seems to be her new project, not that he minds. 

“Have you heard from Jamie? he asks her one day. She's taken to working in his house, using him as a sounding board as she comes up with ideas. She seems to do the opposite of whatever his reactions are, and so far it's worked out well for her. At his question she puts down the carton of milk and frowns at him. He's never really mentioned Jamie to her; just the occasional complaint to keep up with the image they cultivated.

Keeley shakes her head. “Not a lot, babe. Why?”

“So you have heard from him," he presses. So it's just him then? He thinks about the unread text messages growing in number. He should stop. It's pathetic. Jamie helped his team win the Premier League. He doesn't need to be attached to a has-been like him.

He feels a touch to his shoulder. Keeley offering him a cup of tea, him so in his head that he didn't even notice her coming. “Roy, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He leaves it at that, resolves that he won’t ask her anymore. “I…I need your help with something.”

“Anything!”

Coach Lasso

I just saw the press conference. 

Roy I know you've said no but know that the door is always open for you here.
Also Henry wishes you luck.

Ok. Tell Henry thank you.

Will do Roy.

Georgie

Hello, Georgie. This is Roy Kent, I used to play with Jamie when he was at Richmond. 
I’m trying to contact him. Just wanted to check if I had the right number. 07101610151?

Hi Roy. Yes, that’s the right one. 
Jamie’s fine. He’s just a bit busy at the moment. 
I’ll let him know that you tried to get in touch. 
Sorry to hear about the retirement.
My boy loved you when he was growing up!

Thing 2

Phoebe cried.

Fuck - why'd you let her watch that.

I didn't. She asked for it to be put on at school

Babysitter had to pick her up early

And the school fucking did it?

Yeah…Roy are you okay? 

Broke my heart a little.

I'll manage it. 

On the upside. I can help out more with phoebe. 

Thanks but you still have a life

At the moment, I really don’t.

9

You must be wrecked which is fine but text me or something

Jamie? Where are you? 

Oi, prick tell me you're alive.

Jamie the lads haven't heard from you.

Would you please call me?

You're mum said you're fine.
Did I miss that we were fucking arguing or something?

Fucking answer the phone you prick.

Jamie, what’s the matter?

Fuck. 

"I'm going to say this once and then leave it because I know you don't want me to go on about it." He fiddles with the lid of his coffee cup and ignores the sigh that Beard lets out. "Jane's bad news. You hear how you talk about her right?"

So many little instances that have his heart curl and his stomach roll. He's bitten his tongue and it's felt wrong the whole time. Beard didn't know he was going to say something. He knows that this is a surprise. He's non-confrontational when it comes to Willis. Tries to be supportive more than anything else.

"I'd tell them to run," Beard says. He lets out another sigh. "I don't like talking about this."

He's losing him. He scrambles. "No, wait, I know-" he reaches out and holds his arm. "I know you hate talking about this, when you make decisions that you think will make me disappointed in you, but it's not that, I'm not disappointed; I'm worried for you. There's a difference. You know that."

Beard takes a breath, swallows and nods his head. "I love her. She's batshit, but I love her." Ted knows this, and finds it so unsettling.

"And I think you're batshit for loving her. I don't like how she treats you. I'm never going to like her."

"I know."

He lets go of Beards arm and turns out to watch the park. "I'm going to worry about you," he admits. 

Gently, Beard nudges his shoulder. "I know."

"I trust you to come to me if you need help."

"I will."

"Okay."

And that's the end of that.

Beard

Jane doesn't like you either.

Great, the feeling is mutual.

Hey Jane, if you're reading this...bite me.

She really hates you now.

I might be late into work tomorrow.

She wants to go on a trip.

Seriously man??

Stay safe Willis x

He's wrung out; tired and grumpy, and potentially coming down with something that his sister has designated as ‘manflu’, but, fuck her, it’s a real fucking flu coming his way. Just wait until he crawls into her ER puking his guts out and hallucinating that she’s Beaker from the Muppets. It’s going to happen. Keeley’s been fluttering around his home, keeping him company, because his knee is shit and he doesn’t want to move it if he can help it. He’s gotta make a decision about it soon. The doorbell rings. 

“Expecting someone?” he asks, and she pulls a face. 

"Inviting a shag to your place? As if. Chances are they’d take one look at you and run for the hills,” she teases, moving her laptop onto the table and shifting some advertising contracts into a pile. She gets up, moving to answer the door but takes a detour to him sitting on the couch and fixing the blanket back around him. 

He bats her hands away. “Not a child. You saying I look like shit?” 

She laughs as she gets to the door, “Saying you stink like it–Jamie?!” Surprise colors her voice. Roy sits up straighter, looks around at himself and decidedly does not want Jamie to see him like this. “You look like shit, babes.”

"Keeley, what are you-is Roy in? I just--I wanted to..." 

Tell him no, c’mon Keeley. 

“Yeah come in.” 

Fuck. He stands up. He’s not going to do whatever this is sitting down. 

He tries not to track Jamie’s movements but it’s no use. His eyes are drawn to him. Keeley’s right. He looks like shit. Greasy hair and bloodshot eyes.

"What are you doing here–"

"You quit." Jamie winces seconds later. 

Silence on all fronts for most weeks than not of the off season and this is what he gets to be greeted with? "Fuck you."

Jamie’s eyes are wide and he immediately tries to backtrack. "No, I..."

"Jamie," Keeley gasps. "That's not fair. Roy's knee is fucked–”

"I know that! I'm the one that fucked it!" he says quickly. 

Roy frowns at the words. "Oi, you didn't fuck it, I fucked it and I’d do it all over again. Have you been fucking hiding from me?” Jamie’s mouth twists into an unhappy moué. “I tried to contact you!” 

“I know. Can I expl–”

"Holy shit!" Keeley shouts suddenly. Jamie’s mouth snaps shut, eyes darting to her immediately. She’s looking between her phone and Jamie.  "Holy shit! Jamie, what the fuck is this?"

Jamie looks down at the floor. "They announced it then."

“What the fuck is what?” Roy's phone starts buzzing. He reaches for it and doesn’t recognise the number. He answers though, just in case, because it could be Phoebe, stuck, stranded, lost and using a stranger’s phone, and he’d hate himself for ignoring her. It’s not Phoebe. "What? What do you mean? No, I don't have a fucking comment." Jamie's still not looking at him. "No-fuck off!” He ends the call, takes a second and then catches Jamie’s eye. “You fucking quit!"

"I practiced saying, 'I quit,' all the way over...came out wrong, didn't it?" he says softly.

"What the fuck did you do?" Roy can't help how it comes out. Jamie shifts.

"I quit..."

"Tartt.”

That prompts a little fire. Roy sees it taking over as Jamie squares his shoulders. "Look, I thought about this loads and I’ve come to realise that I don't know if I ever really loved the game. But like, I got an offer to do a telly show so I'm going to do that."

"Lust Conquers All?!" Keeley shrieks. Roy whips his head around because, Jamie’s giving up everything for that fucking show. Jamie’s going on that fuck island. "Jamie Tartt, you're giving up football to be a tart?"

Jamie sighs. "Fuck is that already out too? It isn't like that, Keeley. I'm just exploring options before I get–” he looks briefly at Roy "--too old.” Jamie fidgets. “Roy, can I talk to you in private?” A second passes and he tacks on, “Please?”

He’s been wanting to hear from Jamie for ages, and now he can and he’s unsure about it all. "Keeley, can you head off for a bit…or…you can work upstairs in the office?” 

"Are you sure?"she asks, her eyes moving between them both. He nods. “Let me just get my stuff." She shoves everything into her bag and moves towards him. He accepts the kiss she presses to his cheek and watches as Jamie does the same because Keeley is still fond of him and he of her. “I’ll be upstairs, probably on some phone calls, so, like, behave? No shouting alright?”

“Yeah,” he says at the same time, Jamie says, “Promise”. 

Jamie watches her walk up the stairs. "Are you two..." he trails off, eyes turning to Roy. 

"Would serve you right,” he grits out. "Seeing as I got broken up with."

"I didn't break up with you."

"Ghosted me, didn't you?"

"I was..." Jamie's struggles, a few false start sentences, a breath, silence. "I made an extra pass,” he begins. It's a weak opening. "I made an extra pass and after the match me dad...he found me and had a go and threw a boot at my head."

"He fucking what?"

"And Lasso saw, but like he couldn't intervene because me dad would've beaten him up. Or like I got you relegated, so maybe Coach was angry. But then Beard gave me this soldier, and there was a note that said I did good with the passing so they can't be that angry. But it doesn't matter because he doesn't want me here...and even if I come back, you won't be there. I don't want to be in Manchester because me dad's everywhere...but if I come down here, I have nothing."

"You could've had me, you muppet."

"But I got you relegated and you're not playing anymore.”

“And you didn't do either of those things by yourself. Is the TV show like penance or something? Jamie looks at him, confused. “You trying to make up for something?

“I...I don't know what to do anymore…so you weren't mad enough to dump me."

Christ, he wants to scream. "What did you want from me, Jamie?

Jamie's looks lost. "I want things to be normal. I want to be with you and not feel like something's going to take me away."

He can't help but scoff. "Nothing's taking you away, you idiot. You keep leaving. Should I tattoo your name over my skin? Buy you a ring? What’ll convince you?"

Shit, he didn't think he was going to go there. Faintly, he feels his knee start to throb.

Jamie's eyes grow wide, a flush appears on his cheeks “R-Roy, I can't...you can't do that.”

“I'm willing. Why aren't you?”

“We can't.”

"No...you can't, and based on what happens today, I won't...not anymore. If you want to be with me, then be with me. It's not that complicated." He's talking out of his arse with that. It's going to be complicated, but he's willing to work through it.

"But I won't be here...I'm going to be on TV."

"Like I give a shit," Roy scoffs.

"You...you really like me," Jamie stutters, still surprised.

Roy frowns. He hears the wording and knows that it feels wrong. It's bigger than like. He doesn't want to be the first to say it out loud but he doesn't know how else to get Jamie to understand. "Oi..." Jamie's eyes find his. "For some fucking reason...I love you." Jamie's mouth drops open in surprise. "Yeah, it's a shock to me too." Fuck, maybe his knee hates confessions because the throbbing intensifies into stabbing pain. "You should go."

He begins to turn. He needs to sit. Jamie remains still.

"Come on, get out." He shuffles around and lowers himself carefully onto the couch. Jamie shifts his feet and eventually stands before him.

"I'm gonna fuck up though. That's what I do. You're going to dump me." His hands fiddle with his sleeves, the ends pulled over and twisted into his fingers.

"Christ. From my perspective, you've dumped me like three times already. If anyone should be having doubts, it should be me."

"Fuck...and you still love me. What's the matter with you?"

"Fuck knows, but whatever it is works out in your favour so I don't understand why you're fucking complaining." He groans, and leans his head back against the couch.

"If I leave first, then it's my choice. It's not that they didn't want me. It's that I didn't want them and I got to do it first." Jamie stares at him. "What do you want me to do?"

"Make a different choice, Jamie."

He holds his hand out. There's some hesitation, but Jamie takes another step forward and takes Roy's hand, his palm slightly clammy. "I'll try and stop dumping you," he says, tentatively.

"You fucking better."

"Roy...I, um...fuck, I gotta go on TV and pretend and I - I'm like cheating on you already." The realisation has Jamie try to pull his hand away. Roy holds firm.

"Hey, go do the show. Fuck whoever you need to. Just come back and make a proper go of it with me. Can you do that?"

Jamie nods his head quickly. "Yes." Roy lets him go. Jamie hovers. "So you and Keeley..."

"She's a good friend. She's been helping me out with Phoebe."

"That's good." Jamie rubs his hands nervously. "I should head off, I'm gonna say good bye to her and then, I'll come down and say goodbye to you." He nods his head once he's made the decision and follows through, Roy listening to his footsteps on the stairs, and then some shuffling. He waits; closes his eyes, only opening them again when he feels Jamie's hand brush over his hair. Jamie leans over the back of the couch. "I've gotta go. Look after yourself, man. I'll be home in a few weeks," he says softly into his ear. Jamie presses a kiss to his temple.

They don't talk about how Jamie never said it back.

Roy Kent

Have you given it any more thought?

I told you no.

Just think about it.

No.

You can’t coach phoebes team forever.

Says who?

Phoebe. You know you’re only coaching because she’s there. 

Why are you talking to Phoebe?

I’m not, I’m talking to Keeley who’s relaying from Phoebe.

Beard

Would you love me if I was a worm?

Do I know you’re the worm?

No.

Then no.

Why not?

Because it’s a worm.

If you knew?

Assuming I saw you transform. Then yes.
I would love you.

I’d love you if I knew you were a worm.

I know you would.

But I didn’t know it was you, I would not.

Coach, why are we talking about this?

Just thinking.
Waiting for Henry to get ready.
We’re gonna see mom.

Tell Dottie hi and I miss her.

Will do.

Roy looks at Jamie - the phone a poor substitute for his boyfriend in the flesh. 

Jamie smiles at him tiredly, his mouth uneven. "Hot tub sex? All fake babe - you have no idea how much holding position for camera angles suck - it's the unsexiest thing."

A little relief him in the chest.

“Thought you were contractually obliged?”

“It's strongly encouraged but not mandatory. She's got a girl friend on the outside - shes just doing this so she can get followers and like launch her company. she's got a line of full cover swimwear that she designed for her girlfriend. Dead sweet that."

"And looking like shes copping off with you is going to sell it?"

"Apparently." Jamie shrugs. "Hows it going? Will Lilly come off the bench?

"Lilly needs strong prescription glasses. Until her mum gets them for her she's a liability."

Jamie grins. "That's a bit harsh, ain't it?"

"Her prescription's worse than mine."

"Well fuck, she's as blind as a bat then." Jamie tilts his head. "What else?"

“Janice is dating.” 

“Ohh! Is this that Tony bloke? He sounds nice.” 

“How’d you know about Tony?” 

“You told me about him.”

“When?” 

“Last time you had yoga.” That was months ago when Jamie was still at Richmond. “Are you going to keep coaching Phoebe's team?"

"Yeah?"

“But you said Ted wants you at Richmond. You’d get to be with the team."

"I’d be a coach, not a player. Keeley wants me to do Sky Sports."

"Oh fuck, tell me you said yes. You would be fucking brilliant!"

"No way, I'm not made for television."

"That’s why you’d be great. Mate, I’m telling you they love that being yourself bullshit. Plus, you would actually know what your talking about."

"So do they." Jamie sends him a look. "Some of the time." Jamie looks off the the side, the phone goes on mute. Roy sits with his book and waits. Eventually Jamie's attention turns back to him, his side no longer muted. "Sorry babe, they're calling us back. I think they're trying to have us argue."

"Yeah, alright. Go on."

"Bye!"

The video call ends.

KJ

So are we ever going to talk about it?

About what

You and Jamie.

What about me and Tartt?

Don’t start calling him Tartt, just because I’m onto you

Jamie told me he was seeing someone.

And what, you assumed it was me?

9

Keeley wants to talk about me and you.

She said she wouldn’t! 

You told her!

No! I said I was seeing someone but I didn’t say who!

The first time he saw Jamie after he was eliminated and sent back to the UK was painful. Jamie had shown up, hoodie pulled over his head, and actually cringed and shied away as he came through the door. "I looked like a fucking dim-wit," was the first thing he had said and Roy couldn't disagree with the assessment. In the weeks since he's been back, Jamie's tried reaching out to his agent and following up on those who he thought were going to be leads to something bigger and brighter. 

But really, what's bigger and brighter than being a premiership player?

“Ted wont let me come back.” Jamie sighs into Roy's neck. Roy's arms come up to hold him carefully. “You were fucking right. I fucked it. The team really fucking hate me.” 

“I know - sorry I drove some of it.”

"You knew though.” Jamie looks at him. "When I gave it up. Even going on the show. You knew it would be bad."

And Roy did because it's hard not to. He knows why Jamie said yes. He also knows why Jamie was asked. 

Their images are bigger than them. The player is always going to be greater than the man.

“Yeah, I knew it was going to be bad.”

The little seed of doubt has started to grow in Jamie's head; bluster and belief stopped it from growing, but now...self-doubt is making a home. He hears it in the threads of Jamie's voice. “Roy…I used to play for the premier league. I-I'm nothing without football.” 

9

Keeley still thinks I should be a pundit.

You should!

“I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.” He watches Jamie look around trying to decipher his living space.

“Anytime.” Jamie says quickly. “Am I coming back to Richmond.”

Ted sighs, not purposefully dragging it out, but wanting to manage it in a way that won't bring only one in a million Jamie instead of 1 of 11 Jamie. "How do you figure?"

"You already said I weren't coming back at the pub. No reason to see me at all, but you've called me and we're meeting so..." He shrugs as if to say, so there.

“Beard yelled at me.” Jamie's eyes widen. “Its rare but its known to happen…not about you…it was about Roy. It put some things into perspective back then. This time though, we got this shrink, Sharon…she helped Dani beat the yips, so I think she’s got a stake in the game.” Forgive me Sam. “Look Jamie…I think in some ways, you know that it’s the journey more than the destination for me. Losing sucks…but you play a game that your proud of - when you can say, gods honest truth I played my heart out? Well that’s just as valuable, if not more. I’m aware though that in the position I’m in that my…Mr Roger’s way of thinking ain’t worth jack…y’all have Mr Rogers-“ Jamie looks at him blankly. “Nevermind. I-you’re a talented man. I need a strong player but I’m aware that you need Richmond…in my opinion, more than we need you…but we do need you.”

Jamie folds his hands around the beer bottle. “I don’t have much going for me…outside of football…and like a tiny personal life.” He holds his fingers the slightest width apart. “When I went to Manchester…me mum, she was like so proud of me and we’d go out to this little cafe. It’s owned by the same lady who used to babysit me. She’s like 60 and she still pinches me ear and drags me into the kitchen to wash dishes.”

Ted smiles - the story filling him with delight. For some reason, knowing what he knows, he can't picture Jamie ever washing dishes. "I imagine that’s not great for your skin."

"I told her that but she doesn’t give a toss. I’m not a footballer to her. I’m just Jamie who used to stick crayons my ears and cried whenever a dog came near me.”

Gosh darn it, he was adorable. “Just Jamie sounds like a sweet kid - I would’ve loved to have met him.”

Jamie's expression falters; he shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know if the lads would like just Jamie.”

He nudges the biscuits in Jamie's direction. “They’d probably like you more than-” Ted waves his hand. He doesn’t want to call Jamie names “-how you were before.”

“What if I just ignore it. They’ll get over it.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it." The team are going to hate him. "Jamie you can’t act how you did before. When you were away, we built a team. I won’t let you ruin it. Do you understand?”

“Yes coach,” Jamie says quietly. “Cross me heart-“ and he actually does “-I won’t let you down.”

9

They hate me. 

We knew that.

But I told them sorry and they still hate me.

You want to undo more than a year's worth of 
dickheadedness in a one second apology?

When you put it like that.

Accept the shit.

“That was a bit harsh.”

“What?”

Jamie turns down his side of the bed. “You hoping I'll die of my incurable condition. You look fit in that suit.”

“I do, but outside of this house.” Roy frowns. “Does it bother you? Me saying shit like that?”

“Nah.” The brush off is quick but honest. Jamie gets into bed and wiggles around until his comfortable. Roy shifts, already in bed, holding his iPad where he watches Richmond's match.

“The protest was good.”

“Yeah?” Jamie perks up, a little grin on his face. "I think me and Sam buried the shovel."

Hatchet, Roy thinks but doesn't say. "Yeah, good messaging by the team."

“Keeley made me talk to the shrink. She said she didn't want to listen to me complain anymore.”

“Fair.”

Jamie swats at him. “Shut up.” 

“Look, you were being a little bitch.” He puts the iPad aside as Jamie moves over and wraps around him. He thinks Jamie tries to find his heartbeat, ear pressed to his chest, quiet in the room.

“Yeah, I know.” Jamie says a little quiet. “I don’t know why me head went that way. It’s like a default setting. Dr Fieldstone says its a defense mechanism?”

Roy runs his fingers through Jamie's hair. “Do you know what you’re defending against?” he asks softly. He feels Jamie’s head nod against his chest. “Then that’s a start.” 

“Think I might keep seeing her. It might be...good for me.”

“Alright.” 

Roy Kent

Does you're not coming back have anything to do with Jamie's coming back?

Coming back to what fucking hell.

And I don’t care if hes there.

Hes your problem not mine. 

“And everyone at home is okay?” Roy peers at Jamie's face through the phone. He seems fine, but Roy worried that he was by himself for Christmas. 

“Yeah, mummy and Simon did up the house - they did a walk through tour for me. Never mind it always looks the same every year. And we watched The Grinch like we do every year." He isn't complaining though. Jamie had gone into detail about his Christmas traditions (extensive decorations, gingerbread houses and iced biscuits, The Grinch and Love Actually) and had made a nervous offer: maybe next year you could see it for real? that left Roy warm and floaty. "How was lunch with Keeley?" Jamie yawns.

“My sister had to go into surgery so I had Phoebe with me. Keeley was good about it. Actually it was good that she was there. Phoebe’s allergic to her cat so she got medication. Turns out also allergic to her medication. Such a fucking idiot." He looks across to Phoebe asleep on the couch. Her Christmas headband askew on her head, her face have buried in the cushions. She's only wearing one shoe.

“Is she okay?” He watches Jamie sit up with some alarm. 

“No, no, she’s fine. Her medication gives her bad breath. Some prick in her class was bullying her because of it.” 

“Oh, fuck him." Jamie looks ready to fight someone.

"It's alright, we sorted him, Love Actually style - did poster board and everything."

Jamie blanks for a second and then shouts in outrage. "And I fucking missed it?! I could've seen it in real life, what the fuck man? Did Keeley take a video?"

"No." He rubs his scruff and laughs. "Shut up - I'll Love Actually you one day, alright?"

"Promise?" He grunts and it seems to be enough as Jamie moves onto a new topic. “Did you know you’re supposed to people gifts for Secret Santa?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” There’s a beat. “But that doesn’t make any sense! How’s it a secret, if they know the gift came from us?”

“The secret isn’t that you get presents in the first place you muppet. The secret is who they’re from.” 

“Ah…oops.”

9

Don’t come outside. 

Ted’s lurking again. 

Just agree to be our coach again and he’ll leave you alone!

Keeley Jones

And you promise that this isn’t crossing a boundary for him?

I promise!

I’ll tell him to expect someone, but I won’t say that it’s you.

Look, you called this his church. I respect church in all forms. 
Man and church; a very sacred thing. 

Just order what Roy gets and Hus will be fine. 

Alrighty then. 

After the game, he sits in the alcove, looking across at empty seats. This is home.

“Knock, knock?” He looks across to see Jamie, still in his kit, his hair still damp from sweat, dirt and grass stains still pressed over his skin. “Room for one more?” He tips his head slightly, and Jamie lopes over sitting in the seat right next to his; warmth along his side.  

“You look fit - fucking hell,” Jamie says with a grin, his playing with the label of his gatorade. 

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve seen me in this before.” 

“Yeah, and you continue to look like fire,” Jamie says easily. He leans back in his seat, drops a hand on his thigh, palm up. Roy flicks his eyes across the expanse before him and doesn’t clock anyone near enough to notice him place his hand into Jamie’s. Jamie’s fingers enclose around him.

“Why haven’t you changed?” he asks. Jamie shrugs. “You smell like shit, you know that right?” 

“Give me a compliment,” Jamie demands. 

“You played well.” 

Jamie scoffs. “Weak.” Hand squeeze. “Isaac’s a good captain. You picked well.” 

“I know.” 

“So Ted convinced you-” 

“Wore me down-” 

“Shut up. You realised you missed it and jumped at the chance to come back. Sam showed us the video of you walking off mid-show.” 

“They were being idiots. At least I can yell at you lot and be paid for it.”

“Babe, pretty sure you could do that with them too.” Jamie gives his hand one last squeeze and stands up, running his hands through his hair. “I thought…we thought after the match you were gonna come down, but you’ve just been sitting here. The lads were getting worried.”

“Not quite a coach yet…it’d be weird for me to be there.” 

“Now, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Wherever you go, the ghost of Roy Kent lives in those corridors. Lasso’s got a contract on his desk with your name on it. I’ve seen it.” 

He looks up; Jamie meeting his gaze. 

“We’re going to be working together.” 

“We’ll be fine. Now can you please come and sign this contract, so that I can shower? My skin’s getting itchy.”

Isaac McAdoo

We’ll do it officially tomorrow, but Roy’s given me the go ahead to tell you that
he will be joining the coaching staff.

You can let the team know. 

FUCK YES

Teds not exactly stalking. No, he just wants to thank Roy properly. For coming back to Richmond. So really, when he pulls up and intercepts the teenager running the delivery, it’s just fortuitous. 

“Coach Lasso!” the teenager says.

He smiles, wide and midwestern. “That’s me! Oh what have we got ordered?” He takes a peak in the bag. “Roy Kent still eats like a horse, good to know.” The teenager looks at him suddenly unsure why Ted’s taking an interest in Roy’s food, which is fair when he thinks about it - he does look a little suspicious. “Look I’m gonna see Roy anyway, how about I take that for you. Here—” He takes out his wallet and pulls out a… damn a hundred.   

“Roy only tips me 10,” the teenager says quickly, looking sad about it.

Well shit, Ted thinks, reluctantly handing over the 100 in exchange for the bags. The teenager grins and rings his bike bell as he disappears. 

Ted takes the food and knocks on the door, hearing a few footsteps and then, the patented swear as Roy sees him. Roy’s scowl is a thing of beauty. “You only tip your delivery driver 10 dollars? I was just in the neighbourhood.”

Roy’s brow furrows before a bit of outrage crosses his face. “Sanjay? Teenager, spiked up hair, rides a green bike?” Ted nods. “That little fucker - I give him my tickets to our matches!”

Well…that little liar. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Okie dokes.” Ted turns with Roy’s food in hand, pretending he’s going to make off with it and gets down most of the steps before he stops and climbs them again. “What the hell man, you're seriously not gonna stop me? You have fortitude but even I know better than to let you go hungry.” 

Roy huffs and reaches out to take the bags. “Then give me my fucking food.”

Ted moves out of reach. “I will! But, I just wanted to say thank you. For coming to the match. The team, they’re thrilled. You know that don't you…its been-”

“What's taking you so long?” The figure appears and Ted double-takes because this is a straight up revelation. “Are you shagging the delivery driver because frankly ain't anyone here who deserves your tip more than me. And by tip I mean cock-” Jamie wanders past, his hands still moving to towel dry his hair, head slightly bent as he comes up and reaches around Roy to take the food from him. “Thanks Coach.” 

“Uh…no problemo Jamie,” he says, his hands hovering for a second, unsure as to what to do with them as they are relieved of their carry.

Jamie takes two steps before he spins on his heel, surprised. “Coach!” He promptly drops the food. “Oh fuck!” he shouts, hopping to avoid something liquidy. 

“Shit, Jamie,” Roy says, taking Jamie’s arm and dragging him away from the puddle. 

“Oh my god!” Jamie exclaims. “Coach whatever you heard I was just teasing. I'm here because I-look me and Roy-I mean me, just me-” he continues to ramble. Roy remains quiet not helping at all.

“I think we should have a little talk,” Ted says, already moving in through the door because this needs to be a discussion, and like hell he’s letting Roy get away without one. 

“Hurry up the fuck up,” Roy says, letting Ted shut the door behind him. "Get the paper towel," he says to Jamie who disappears into the kitchen having picked up the dropped food, and only reappears through the kitchen door to throw a roll of paper towel at Roy. “Here,” Roy says, thrusting it to his chest. “You caused this mess, you can clean up too.” And because Ted actually wants to know more, he doesn’t say anything as he bends down and starts mopping up what appears to be some sort of soup. When things look suitably cleared, he passes the rubbish to Roy who takes it, and leads him through to the kitchen where Jamie’s hovering at the sink, the towel now around his neck. 

“Coach! You should have a seat!” Jamie says, moving quickly to pull out a stool at Roy’s kitchen counter. “Do you want a tea? Or…coffee, Roy’s got coffee!” he says, already opening cupboards and looking nervous. 

“Jamie, buddy, take a breath.” Ted smiles, trying to convey that everything is okay. “Judging by what you said and how you're reacting, I'm gonna say that my initial reading on this is correct, and in that case, I have a few questions.” 

“Right, of course you do. Shoot.” 

“Are you happy?” Jamie blinks at him, and looks at Roy who also looks a little unnerved at the question. “That’s a question for you as well Roy.” 

Roy crosses his arms, leaning with his back against the cupboard. “Yes.” 

It prompts Jamie to answer too. “Of course.” 

Ted smiles. Good. Now that’s out of the way, he focuses on the details. “Alright, you two. I need you to tell me, how’d this even happen?”

Roy looks at Jamie who shrugs back, and then sighs. “This prick came to Richmond. We talked. It was fine. Then he became a massive prick on the pitch and it was not fucking fine and then we got our shit together and it’s fucking going-"

"Fine." Ted deadpans, not even bothering to put the question mark at the end of it. Roy nods his head. "You really give nothing away man.” Roy continues to stare. He switches track, spinning slightly towards Jamie who’s trying to stuff a croissant into his mouth. “Jamie?”

“Huh?” Jamie looks at Ted wide eyed. 

“Do me a favour?”

“What?” Crumbs spit out and drop to the bench top as Jamie coughs. Roy sighs. 

“Expound.”

"What he said?” 

“Which was?”

“Met him, was better than him and for funsies we fucked.”

“Christ,” Roy mutters. 

“That’s less words than Roy used!” Ted laughs, impressed at Jamie’s succinct summary, but he needs more. 

Finally, Jamie laughs and the skittish look about him disappears as he realises that he’s not in any trouble with Ted. “Alright! Alright. Real talk. In my first week I got into it with Roy. I'll leave out the aftermath but…next morning it was…nice? I didn’t have a lot of that. And he didn’t care about anything enough to actually give a shit–”

“I gave a shit! That’s why I was shouting.” 

Jamie turns back to him. “Before you came–this prick? Only shouting. The lads were sick of it.” 

“I see.” He says but he doesn’t yet.

Roy finally joins the conversation. "Look. Jamie’s nice at home. King of Pricks everywhere else. Jamie can’t pull back to save himself."

"I’m committed to the part and like…I’m great at it. Like I said to you coach why would I want to be anyone different," he says slightly puffing out his chest.

"But you are different…or we’re different," he says not understanding.

Jamie's bravado falters. “I didn’t get it. What me and Roy were doing. I-I handled a lot of things badly.” He looks away and then bites his lip. "We both didn't know what the fuck we were doing."

Roy nods his head. "That's fair. We both fucked up."

“Y'all know that your gonna have to submit paperwork.”

Roy blows out a breath. "I really don't want to. We were fine. Nothing changed when we were on the same team."

"You were not fine at Richmond." He frowns at them both. "I have multiple witnesses for locker room bust ups, and there's video of you beating on each other in front of a crowd - did you forget that?"

"I just explained-" Roy starts, trying to defend them but Ted can't let him. Roy can be in denial all he wants, but not when their under the same roof.

"And I bet like all your money that you weren't doing well at home. Jamie just said he handled things badly and you said you both fucked up."

Jamie's quiet. “Would it mean that we couldn't be on the team. Like either I stay or he does?”

“That's something that I can't answer for you now, but I can make some inquiries. I'll make up a story about an MLS team in the states.”

“What do you think?” Jamie asks.

“What do you think?” Roy replies.

“It'd be easier wouldn't it…if we were to move in together properly…they'd know and understand why?” Ted tries not to smile; hearing Jamie talk about moving in with Roy. He tries to play it cool but can’t help it. 

“Stop looking at us like that,” Roy mutters.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Ted says quickly, and then because he can’t help it, “It’s like seeing Bennifer 2.0. Raymie? Oh Joy!”

Roy glares. 

Jamie mouths, Raymie, under his breath and then pulls out his phone. 

Leslie Higgins

I need your help on the down low.

Okay.

No one can know. Even if you cant help me you cant tell anyone

Ted this sounds serious 

In a matter of speaking it could be for who's involved 

Can you give me an inkling

I'm talking about love.
Maybe have a bit of a romeo and juliet situation on our hands

Suicide?!

What no man. Star crossed lovers

😱

Oh my goodness

OH MY GOODNESS 

Romeo and Juliet

Roy and Jamie

Well how about that? The first letters match up!

Delete your last text and we'll use romeo and juliet as codenames for them.

Man your mind makes connections like lightning 

Incoming call
Leslie Higgins 

“You need to coach him more than that going forward - you know that right.” Jamie had continued to look at Ted confused before Ted walked away. He really needs to figure out how to get Roy to do all of his job. 

Roy stands in the middle of his office and turns. “I already told you to take 4% off,” he says, like that really fixes everything.

“Roy,” Ted sighs. “You have to coach him.”

“I di-” Roy starts. 

“Yeah!” Jamie says from behind Ted who tries and fails not to jump in surprise. Need to get him a bell. “Fucking coach me. I'm part of the team.” He's looking at Roy and Ted swears he looks a little hurt at having to reaffirm his allegiance. “Roy-“

“I just did.” Roy says stubbornly. 

“Coach!” Jamie says, turning to Ted. He doesn't look hurt anymore, just frustrated.

Which Ted totally understands because he is starting to feel the same. “Roy you're hired to coach the whole team if you can't do that then-” Ted flings his hands in the air. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Roy queries, also half flinging his hands in the air, but significantly less committed.

“I don't know! It’s uncharted territory here! I'm sorry I wasn't given a manual on how to manage my striker and my ex-midfielder turned assistant coach being in love with each other although I'd read the hell out of it if it were-”

"Oh. My. God." 

Well, damn, Willis. He throws his hands up again. “Bells, I’m getting all of you bells, because this being silent and sneaking up on me is going to put me in an early grave.” 

Roy looks like his soul has exited his body. "Fucking hell." He stares hard at Jamie as Beard props himself up on the table, his eyes wide and mouth agape. "We kept this a secret for how fucking long? And now someone else knows cause you couldn’t go without my attention."

And that is really unfair. “Roy, that’s not what this is-” he begins his defense of Jamie but it’s unnecessary. 

"Oh fuck off,” Jamie cuts in glaring at Roy. “I shouldn’t have to beg you to do your job. You're the one who had a fucking-“ Jamie’s hand waves in the air near his head to fill in the second of dead space “-conniption at the thought of coaching me!"

He shoots a look at Beard at Jamie's use of conniption. He’s impressed while Beard has a distinct look of I’m imagining this right? I leant too far back in my chair, fell, and my head cracked open.  

“Listen to me-“ Roy starts but doesn’t get far. 

"So is this your relationship all the time?" Beard asks. "Wait, you've come to blows. Is that a kinky thing?"

"Sometimes-" Jamie starts at the same time Roy growls "Fuck off. It's not.” 

"Coach!" Ted says, alarmed. "You're riding a rollercoaster that I'd very much like to get off from. And boys I'm the one that just threw you into lava so be angry at me."

“I am,” Roy mutters, which is to be expected, but he falters anyway because he didn’t actually want Roy to be angry at him. 

Jamie rolls his eyes and addresses Beard. "Look me and Roy do this thing where we have ‘football us’ and ‘home us’ because our relationship is private. It ain't perfect but it works...most of the time. Right now, ‘football us’ is having an issue, and you know what, I’ve tried fixing it at work .” Jamie turns to Roy. “Quit being a shitty smart-arse and do you’re fucking job. You were great, but I reckon I can be fucking extraordinary and if you aren’t gonna help me, then fuck you - I deserve better, especially from you.” Jamie turns on his heel muttering to himself. 

Ted watches Roy just stand there, the cords of his neck standing out, before he takes a big breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It sounds like ‘home you’ now have a problem,” he says gently. He quickly glances at Beard who seems to have adjusted to finding out about Roy and Jamie, and is instead looking at Roy, calmly assessing. 

“Fuck,” Roy draws out slowly. “The little prick’s right isn’t he.”

“Yup,” Beard says. “Who knew, you’d be the emotionally stunted one of the relationship.”

“Fuck off,” Roy says but, there’s not much heat behind it. It’s been doused by Jamie’s honesty. 

“I did.” Ted holds his hand up, shrugging when Roy shoots him a look. “Just a feeling.” He frowns. “Emotionally stunted is a bit harsh though - emotionally constipated, maybe. Just gotta give Roy an emotional laxative and I’m sure it’d flow.” Beard dips his hat and something sparks in his brain, a situation that they lived through in college. “Reminds me of a time-”

“Nope, fuck, no shitty stories.” Roy moves quickly and slides his office door shut leaving him and Beard alone staring at each other. 

Beard talks first. “Were you going to tell him about Ronnie Shiply aka ‘Ronnie Shitly’?” 

“Yes, I was.” 

“That story has nothing to do with emotional intelligence, in fact, I remember a distinct lack of any intelligence.” 

Ted thinks about it and shrugs. “Word association, what can  I say-” he points to his head. “The mind’s a spider web.” 

Beard stares at him and then his eyes narrow. "You knew."

He swallows. "I did."

"You didn’t tell me." 

“I promised I wouldn’t.” He doesn’t tell Beard how much he was dying to tell him, because he never feels on an even keel when Beard doesn’t know something he does. Beard literally knows all his secrets just like he knows Beard’s. 

“That’s fair.” 

"Also, I kind of assumed you knew. You’re the observant ones outta the two of us."

There’s a nod of acknowledgement. "I think I had an inkling.” Ted scoffs, because that is evidently untrue. The last few minutes are proof of that. Beard stares back at him before his mouth slips into a tiny smile.

“Higgins knows, though. He figured it out, and to protect them both, I had to tell him.”

“Isaac suspects. I overheard him talking to Richard and Colin.”

"Well how about that. How?"

"Body science. He says that when Jamie looks in Roy’s direction, his fingers “freak out” like a spasm or something. Roy frowns when Jamie’s in his space but his feet always shift to Jamie’s direction.”

Ted whistles, low and impressed. He really needs to learn that body science stuff - it’s useful. "That’s some observation skill. Do the rest of them-"

Beard snorts. "I love the guys but no. Richard laughed in Isaac’s face. Colin said that Jamie wouldn’t be able to shut up about it if it were true. Shows what Colin knows.” 

“So we just operate as usual. Like I said, Higgins knows. The boys have signed paperwork. Rebecca is aware too - we agreed that we couldn't keep it from her. Still we need Roy to coach Jamie, Coach.” 

They look over to where Roy is frowning at his laptop screen, eyes occasionally flicking down as he writes his notes. Beard cracks his book open and assumes his reading position. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Rebecca aka “Da Boss” 

How are you feeling? 

I’m okay! 

I think we’ll be okay. 

How are you doing? 

I’m fine Ted. 

Are you almost finished with your book? 

Which one? The Collected Schizoprenias, or The Topeka School?

Either? I need recommendations for when I go on holiday. 

We should meet to discuss. Next biscuits with the boss!

I have many thoughts about both 😅

“Did you see me?” Roy stares at Jamie who’s got his head turned over his shoulder to look behind at him. Jamie sticks his tongue out. Roy’s under no illusion that Jamie’s forgotten that they were fighting. Jamie’s on a high, and his need for praise is strong so his mouth is twisted into a softer version of a sneer, while his body stays angled away from Roy, plastered against Dani’s back.

Jamie was beautiful out there and everyone fucking knows it. 

“I did.” Roy taps his arm, head tilting in the direction of the door. “Come with me.” 

Jamie frowns. 

Roy waits, he doesn’t say ‘please’ and hopes Jamie will grant him the grace to not have to beg. It’s only a few moments until Jamie peels away with a clap to Dani’s shoulder and a roll of his eyes as he gestures to Roy. Dani looks between them and smiles sunnily, unaware and unconcerned. 

“Let’s do this then,” Jamie mutters, moving quickly and leaving Roy to follow. 

The Boot Room. Of course. Roy looks around and doesn’t see Will in with them; small mercies. The room is silent; Jamie standing there with his arms by his side just waiting. It's Roy’s mess to clean up after all. They’ve been in a good place. Small arguments aside, Jamie hasn’t run, and he’s tried more to not just assume things, asking questions to clarify what’s happening in Jamie’s head. 

He takes too long to start the conversation. Jamie throws his hands to the sides with a scoff. “Look, mate, if I just wanted to stand in a room, I would rather do that where the celebrations are at. I was doing some great standing back at the lockers so if you’re gonna say nothing, then I’m gonna go.” 

Fuck . “You’re not extraordinary-“ he starts.

Jamie’s mouth drops open in offence, the impatient idiot, “Oi!-“

“-but you’re fucking getting there,” Roy says raising his voice to talk over Jamie and signal for him to shut the fuck up for a second. Mercifully, Jamie does, arms crossed, glaring at him. Roy sighs, looks away and then crosses his arms too. He doesn’t know how this will go, there’s a sick feeling in his stomach, ever since he realised that they were fighting. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop and says as much when he admits, “I worry that I won’t be able to help you.”

Jamie reads him well enough - he doesn’t understand it yet, but he will. There’s an uncrossing of arms and a little shuffle forward, and then, “What do you mean?”

Fuck, he hates that this is going to leave him raw and exposed. “You’re talented. I told you, your right foot was kissed by god and I meant it. There’s going to be a day when I’m not going to be useful to you.” And when that day comes, Roy thinks, it might actually destroy me.

“Oh fucking hell, Roy - you’re daft mate.” Jamie closes the gap and holds onto him, his arms sneaking around to pull Roy into a suitable position. “There’s so much that you can teach me,” he starts, “but, if the day comes that you can’t do it anymore, then I’m not going to turn you out. Hate to break it to you babe, I’m rich, hot and have like six different coaches in my contacts list. I’m not with you because you're useful to me and fuck you for thinking that I’d just cast you aside it you weren’t.” 

Roy nods, feeling a little more settled, and lets his hands fall to Jamie’s waist. “Right. I'm sorry for…you know.” 

It’s not a big enough apology, it doesn’t capture anything that Jamie’s just told him but it’s enough for Jamie at this moment because he just says, “Cheers.” Jamie stares for a second. “You knew I’d make the shot.” 

Roy can’t explain how. “I did.”

“Hey,” Jamie pulls him into a kiss; a quick one, more to just say I’m here , before he pulls away, catching Roy’s eye. “I love you,” he says gently, and Roy feels Jamie's lips brush against the skin of his cheek. It's the first time Jamie's said it. Roy's grip tightens ever so slightly, and he fights the urge to ask ‘are you sure’. As if Jamie can read his mind he adds, “I'm choosing you forever - that's alright, yeah?” Roy nods his head, unable to do much else but stare at Jamie who lets out a little pleased noise and lets a smile take over his face.

A sound, softer than a crash, definitely not a ghost, echoes in the room.

“Will?” Jamie guesses into the space.

Roy kisses Jamie’s temple quickly muttering a soft, fuck, as they see a hand stick out from around a door. 

“You make a lovely couple,” Will says, his face now appearing too, hovering in mid air. 

“Two years,” Roy says softly, stopping a whine entering his voice, because he would never, but also stopping the urge to stamp his foot and throw a tantrum because really, why do people keep finding out about them? “We kept this under wraps for two years and now someone else knows.”

Will finally crawls out and stands, dusting his knees off. “Congratulations! It’s-it’s a bit unexpected, but sometimes, the best duos are,” he babbles. 

“Thanks Will,” Jamie says. Roy feels a press to his chest. “Maybe we can think about telling some of the lads.” He can tell that Jamie's hopeful for a yes. “I think I want to tell Dani…or maybe Sam…I'd trust him with this.”

It’s going to be a longer conversation, but he knows that he’ll agree to it, Jamie deserves it. “Yeah, okay.” Jamie lights up. “We need to tell Keeley properly. Dani and Sam only for now.” 

Jamie nods his head and presses another kiss to Roy’s cheek. “Yeah, babe, of course, Keeley and them two only.” 

“We should get back.” He turns to Will. “Will…you aren’t telling anyone shit, okay?”

Will’s eyes widen and he stutters for a few moments, before saying, “Of course, Roy. Scouts honour.” 

“You aren’t a scout.” Will’s splutters in surprise that Roy knows that about him.

“True, alright, pinkie swear then.” Will holds out his pinky, gaze shifting between the two of them. 

“Not in a million years,” he says gruffly, removing his hands from Jamie to cross them in front of his chest. He only pinky swears with Phoebe. 

Jamie rolls his eyes and wraps his pinky around Will’s. “I’m covering Roy too.”

Henry

Dad, dad! That shot was so cool!

Tell Jamie that it was awesome!

Will do! I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that you saw it.

Also please do not recreate the signal. 

Dad…

This is not up for discussion.

I love you!

Thing 2

Good job! 

I didn’t fucking do anything. 

You know what I mean. 

And really, you couldn’t pick a different signal?

Well it worked, didn’t it?

Ted sees Roy and Jamie leave the boot room and doesn’t think too deeply about it. A few minutes later, Will exits looking dazed, like he’s just seen something magical. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” He startles when he finally takes note of Ted standing next to him. “I’m fine.” Ted places a hand on Will's shoulder steering him to the celebrations.

“Did they make up?”

If Will is surprised that he knows, he doesn't show it. He nods. “I think so.” 

“They cute as heck?” As they round into the room, he searches until his eyes find Roy and Jamie, not quite next to each other, but still hovering in each other’s orbit. The rest of the players are raucous, still flying high from their performance. He spots Beard standing by a wall, his eyes bouncing between everyone, cataloguing, studying and making mental notes; multitasking in the truest sense of the word as a he takes a drink and speaks whoever stops by him.  

Will smiles. “They’re quite sweet.”

Jamie looks over at Roy every few minutes and Roy’s eyes track Jamie as he’s pulled from one celebratory group to another, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. 

Ted feels warmth bloom in his chest. “Well…that ain’t no small thing, is it?”

Romeo and Juliet

Boys what I'm about to say
I say with extreme reluctance because this really is yalls business
but I'm taking one for the team so to speak.

Not that I don’t love your love but many members of staff
would appreciate it if you stopped loving in the boot room.

Juliet
Sorry coach!

Romeo
Fuck.

Sorry. 

I appreciate you both ❤️