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Roy taps the steering wheel three times, his nerves on edge.
The little kebab shop, tucked between two coffee shops selling overpriced fucking shit that tastes like shit, has his date waiting for him inside. They've been flirting for the past few weeks and Roy decided to bite the bullet and ask the fucker out. Now that it was happening and he's here, his feet were getting cold...
Catching himself in the rear-view mirror, Roy smooths his hair back and takes a deep breath to psych himself up. He grabs the small bouquet of flowers and gets out of the car, heading to the place. Keeley said every date likes flowers, and he believes her—she knows his date better than he does.
The walk is short, and before he knows it, he's walking through the doors and the bell dings his arrival.
Hus greets him with a knowing smirk from the counter—as if the flowers aren't an indicator of what's happening today.
Roy gives him a fond scowl and looks over the tables. There are a few people lounging around, and the one he's looking for happens to be hiding behind a wall of menus.
Of course, he thinks and makes his way over and sits across from his date without saying anything. The person stirs but doesn't move.
Roy waits a few seconds, debating what to do. Coughing into his shoulder and straightening himself out, he decides to knock on the menu gently and the person jolts their head up with a snort.
The menus topple over to reveal Jamie.
“Sleeping?” Roy says, amused, but nervous because he is twenty minutes late.
“Sworry.” Jamie rubs his eyes and yawns into his hand. “Wanted to surprise yeh.”
“And how would you do that exactly?”
“Er, I would pop out and say rawr or sumthin.”
Roy chuckles and holds up the flowers. “That would have given me a heart attack. Also, these are for you.”
Jamie blinks at the bouquet, confusion crossing his face.
“Flowers?” He takes them, studying the roses bundled with baby's breath and ferns. Roy thinks he's fucked up. What man brings flowers for another man?
But Jamie's mouth curves up in a smile as his eyes light up. He takes a sniff and sighs, flicking his gaze at Roy shyly.
“Got meh flowers?” He says quietly and Roy swallows down the lump in his throat. The date's barely begun and Jamie's already got his tongue twisting and heart pounding.
“Yes. Thought it'd be nice. A little thank you for saying yes to… this.” Roy taps his fingers three times on the table to steady himself—it's free of stickiness for once and Roy suspects Hus must've wiped it down knowing about this little date.
Speaking of Hus, the man waltzes over with a pen and pad and still has that smirk on his face.
“If it isn't my best customer,” Hus teases Roy. “Your friend here was telling me about a date with the one and only Roy Kent!”
“Is that so? Is he here? I'd love a fucking autograph.” Roy deadpans, and there's a light kick at his ankle.
“Tell Roy Kent he's been owing meh an autograph,” Jamie smugly says and turns to Hus. “We'll start with water. Need a minute.”
“Got you, boss!” Hus nods and gives Roy a wink, leaving the two alone. Jamie puts the flowers off to the side and takes a menu, eyes scanning it slowly.
Roy already knows what he wants—it's the same order he's been getting for months. He waits for Jamie in comfortable silence until it isn't, the awkwardness creeping in.
Jamie chews his lip, eyes squinting from time to time at the menu. He peeks at Roy, fingers wrinkling the edges of the menu as if he wants to say something.
Roy stays quiet, assuming Jamie's worried about the prices—he'd offered to pay for everything, including the film tonight. The prick had joked about picking the most expensive thing on the menu and was probably embarrassed to do so now. Money wasn't an issue to either of them, but it was basic etiquette on Roy's part for asking him out.
Minutes roll by and Jamie hasn't said a single thing, still looking uneasy.
The little voice in Roy's head tells him he'd picked a bad place. He'd been told to pick any place to eat after he'd asked the prick out. This was his favourite restaurant out of the hundreds he'd eaten at, and having Jamie here meant a lot to him.
But…
What if Jamie doesn't like anything on the menu?
What if Jamie doesn't even like kebabs?
Perhaps Roy should have picked somewhere fancier. Jamie had exquisite tastes and the clothes he wore for the date—designer shirt and trousers with shiny, gold chains hanging from his neck and diamond bracelets twinkling on his wrist—said as much. Roy wore a simple black tee, leather jacket, and jeans himself, and was starting to regret going simple.
“Um,” Jamie squirms in his spot and puts the menu down. “I, um…”
“Yes?” Roy leans in, elbows up on the table and hands clasped together. Jamie holds his gaze for a second before it drops to the menu, ashamed.
“I… need…” he swallows, lips parting to whisper. “Help… with…” He trails off.
“Help?” Roy isn't sure if he heard right. “Help picking?” There were a lot of options—probably overwhelming for someone who's never been here.
“N-no,” Jamie hunches his shoulders. “I, um… Please don't laugh…” he mumbles anxiously. Never had Roy seen Jamie this nervous before, let alone express it openly to him—it was fucking adorable.
“I won't.” Roy gives him a reassuring smile, but it doesn't wipe the look from Jamie's face.
“I,” Jamie pauses, picking at his arms, just as nervous as Roy. “I can't read this fucking menu.”
“Oh! Shit, wrong menu?” Hus had a few in different languages like Turkish and Spanish. He's about to rise from his seat to grab another menu but Jamie stops him with a shake of his head.
“No, Roy.” Jamie interrupts him quickly. “I, um… I have dyslexia,” he admits, eyes flicking to Roy's. “Menus are a bit too cluttered fer meh ta read.”
“Oh.” Roy forces himself to keep a neutral expression, his lips twitching to smile. He isn't surprised. Long ago, he'd figured the prick had trouble reading, but it wasn't his place to ask—none of his fucking business either. Jamie always asked people to repeat themselves or misspelled things.
“I can read it for you.” Roy offers, his foot tapping three times and his stomach dropping when Jamie stares at him wide-eyed—he doesn't need Roy to read a fucking menu out loud, does he? If the prick needs help he would have asked.
“Only if you want me to, that is,” Roy adds right after, voice rougher than intended. He gives his thigh a hard squeeze to ground himself—no dice. Once the tics start he has to wait for it to end.
Jamie's eyes cut through him. He leans back in his seat with a roll of his shoulders, his expression loosening a bit.
“I would love that, Roy.”
Suddenly, there's a rhythmic bump against Roy's foot of six rapid taps, then a three second pause—Jamie's tapping back and his leg stills before he realizes it.
Something sharp and warm tightens in Roy's chest, and he quickly shifts his foot away. He hates it when people notice and point it out, but with Jamie it was different—he was a bit embarrassed but appreciated the simple action.
“Thanks.” Roy mumbles gruffly, the taps lingering and vibrating throughout his leg.
Jamie winks at him and slides further into his seat and pats the empty space beside him.
It's an invitation for Roy to go over.
Roy doesn't move right away. He did offer to read the menu and Jamie accepted, but he didn't realize it would mean sitting right beside the prick…
The patting stops and the hand retracts to the side when Roy stays glued to his spot. Now Jamie’s thinking he's overstepped and there's an awkward silence in the air.
Hus comes over with the waters, setting them down. He's going to joke about the silence, but quickly leaves when Roy growls at him in warning.
They both take their waters and sip at the same time, their gulps obscenely audible. Roy's done his glass within seconds and Jamie is smart, drinking his slowly.
Out of everything in Roy's life, this is one of the hardest obstacles he's facing. It's been a while since he's been on a date—years with a man. He wants to impress Jamie, but his insecurities are strong and overbearing.
Jamie picks up the menu and tries to read it again, with his lips mouthing out words and the syllables coming out in the wrong order.
Roy frowns.
That won't do.
With a burst of confidence, he finds himself getting up and going over. He sits beside Jamie and that awkwardness flies right out the window.
“Hi,” Jamie greets him, scooting closer with their thighs and shoulders touching. “Took yeh fucking long enough.”
“I—” Roy wipes his face and inhales deeply. The heavy scent of orange citrus and cinnamon hits him hard, and fuck, Jamie smells fucking amazing.
“You smell nice.” He changes the subject without meaning to. He takes the menu from Jamie, giving it a quick look over. It's been a while since he's read it and there are a few new items added and Jamie's fucking right. This menu's too cluttered even for his eyes. Hus was a simple man with terrible tastes in graphic design—bless his heart.
“Thanks. Yeh too,” Jamie compliments him back and settles himself with an arm hooking around Roy's. “Can yeh read stuff with chicken?”
“Sure.” Roy carefully reads out the items, his finger gliding over the words. He pauses when Jamie rests his head on his shoulder, getting comfortable.
“Chicken—um, chicken rice bowl… I-it, um, c-comes with—” Roy can’t concentrate from the proximity that was Jamie Tartt.
“Hm… Maybe the second one that yeh said.”
“The chicken and pita?”
“Yeh. Looks good. All the vegetables but sauce on the side. I dun't like saucey. Oh! And diet coke, no ice.”
“Okay, princess.”
Jamie scoffs playfully and waves over Hus, who comes rushing over with his pen and pad out.
“What will it be?” Hus asks with a toothy grin when he sees them close, his pen ready.
Roy gives Hus a glare and repeats Jamie's order. Hus scribbles it down quickly, says it'll be ten minutes, and leaves with their empty glasses to prepare the orders.
“Yeh didn't order?”
“He knows what I want.” Roy nods over to his picture on the wall. “Been coming here for a year now.”
Jamie gasps when he sees the picture, just noticing it now. He gives Roy a small shake. “Yum in-fucking-deed.”
“Hey!” Roy shakes him back with a bashful laugh, and the two go quiet when their gazes meet to only wander along their facial features.
Jamie breaks away to rest his head on Roy's shoulder, giggling to himself as he stares at the picture. Roy gets brave and places a hand on top of Jamie's, thumb rubbing around the knuckles.
Dates usually had people talking about what they liked, what their hobbies were, or how their week went, but they were comfortable being like this.
...
They break apart when Hus comes with their food. It's hot and steaming and smells almost as good as Jamie.
Roy's about to dig in, but Jamie slaps his hands away from his own food and had his phone out.
"Hurry" Roy growls and so does his stomach; he's so hungry.
"Mhm!" Jamie takes multiple pictures from different angles and heights, with and without flash, and even gets on the other side of the booth for a different perspective, forcing Roy to get up to let him out. How many pictures did the prick need?!
"Say cheeeeese!" Jamie points the camera at him with the food. Roy stares at the camera scowling and holding a middle finger up, much to Jamie's amusement.
"Yum." Jamie teases him and shows him the picture. Roy admits it's a nice photo of himself and he debates on taking a picture too, but decides against it.
He's hungry and they had the day to take photos.
"Come here, sit the fuck down, and fucking eat already, twat." Roy’s sliding into Jamie’s spot and patting the empty space beside him.
Jamie gives him a smirk and sits back down beside him and they dig in immediately. Their elbows bump constantly from how close they sit together and it's hard to eat this way, but neither move away.
"Wow, this is fucking delicious," Jamie licks his finger and reaches over Roy’s plate to take a pick at his food falling out his sandwich without asking.
"Oi, hands away, muppet." Roy says it but doesn't stop it. He watches Jamie ignore him and take his cucumbers and bits of meat. Then, there's a tug at his wrist and Roy complies without making a fuss, moving his sandwich up to Jamie’s watering mouth.
Jamie takes an enormous fucking bite of his lamb sandwich, teeth sinking in the stuffed pita and pulling back with a small moan. Any other day Roy would yell at the fucker for committing this atrocious crime, but today was special and the look on Jamie's made him swallow three times.
"Good?" Roy knows the answer when Jamie takes another bite of his food with another small moan and eyes closing in contentment, his chews slow and savouring the food.
"Fucking aces!" Jamie says with a stuffed mouth, cheeks full like a hamster. It's too cute for Roy to pass up.
"Hold on, don't swallow." Roy slips his phone out and points it at Jamie, who gets the message. He poses at the camera, exaggerating his face with lips puckering out and brows up and does a peace sign. The picture comes out perfect in Roy's eyes and to Jamie it's the worst picture known to man.
"Meh god, meh cheeks can go that big?!" Jamie's looking at the picture Roy took and he's being over-fucking-dramatic. "Ugh! So bad!"
Roy gives Jamie’s thigh a comforting squeeze. "Oh, please. It's the best picture I've taken on this phone. You're overreacting."
"Nu! Ug'leh!"
"Shut up. You're... fine looking," Roy quickly turns away and bites his sandwich to shut himself up, face going flush. Jamie's fit of giggles makes him shake from the shitty compliment and slides his plate over.
"Well, here's a tip." Jamie offers his plate and Roy takes bites out of it, accepting the offer—he was going to do it anyway with or without Jamie’s permission.
They rotate their meals and Jamie forces Roy to cross their arms to feed one another. It's stupid and silly and out of character for Roy, yet he finds himself enjoying it.
When they're done and the tables cleared, they take a moment to digest their meal. Jamie props his phone up on the napkin dispenser in selfie mode with a five second timer and cuddles up to him for the picture, comfortable showing affection that Roy wishes he could return. Jamie holds the bouquet too with a wide smile and Roy stares at the camera dead-on—he thinks he's smiling too but when he looks at the picture after it goes off, he's fucking scowling and looks done with life.
To Jamie, it's the perfect picture and sets it as his wallpaper right after, gushing about the flowers and how sweet Roy is. He sets the other picture he took of Roy as his lockscreen to match and can't wait to show everyone at work.
Roy doesn’t have the words to describe how happy he is. It's a small thing too... The warmth in his chest rises up to his throat and he can feel his eyes get a bit moist. Without thinking, he sets Jamie's hamster cheek picture as his lockscreen and it makes the prick beam like the sun
It's their first date yet it feels like it's the hundredth. It makes Roy realize the little voices of insecurity and doubts have gone quiet in his head. The shyness between them disappeared along the way too, and it was just Roy and Jamie on a date.
They tip Hus, compliment his food, and bid the man farewell.
Leaving the kebab shop together, they slowly walk over to Roy's car to catch the film, chatting about mundane things like work and the nice weather. Jamie proudly carries the bouquet of flowers, cradling it carefully in his arms and refuses to put them down until they arrive where they need to be.
They walk side by side into the cinema, stomachs full and pinkies hooked.
Jamie's been yapping about this horror film he's been dying to see. Roy personally isn't the type to sit in a room with strangers and it's been a while since he's seen a screening at the cinema.
Last time it was for Frozen 2 with Phoebe. The first one was immaculate, the second one a bit shit. This time it's for a film called Obsession and he knows nothing about it.
“Seen the trailer. It looks good!” Jamie says when they pass the promotional posters on the wall. “Dun't have a heart attack on meh, ol' man!”
Roy rolls his eyes and they stand in line to get in. “Know CPR?”
“No… But I can watch et on YouTube. I have premium, yer good!”
“Wow. Thank god for that.” Roy pulls out the tickets when they're next. “Be sure you're pumping on the right side.”
“Which side is that?” Jamie asks innocently and Roy chuckles.
“I mean the right side, Jamie.”
It takes a moment for it to register. “Oh!” Jamie puts his hands up in L shapes and nods. “Got yeh.”
“Good lad.”
They're next and Roy gets their tickets scanned and they stand in another fucking line to grab snacks.
Jamie blinks at the concessions menu, his eyes squinting, and Roy whispers what they have into his ear.
“Kinda full. Want to share the popcorn combo?” Jamie decides quickly with a pat to his stomach. “Feels wrong without the et. Get two straws!”
“Could get another drink. I don't mind paying extra.”
“Nu! Share et. Be cute.”
You're cute, Roy thinks and holds the thought in his head. It's funny how they held hands, cuddled a bit at the restaurant, ate at one another's plates, but it's the words of affection that always get Roy.
He's a man of action and not of words.
“Whatever you want, your royal highness.”
“Yay! Gets ta bags of cand'eh's and chocolates, too. No extra butter. Dun't like meh fingers greasy. Extra salt though.”
“What if I want extra butter?” Roy doesn't but he wants to see that little pout that makes him want to pinch those lips.
“Nu!” Jamie pouts, lips out and brows down, giving Roy exactly what he baited for.
“Hm, if you say so, princess.”
When it's their turn to order, Jamie grabs every single bag of candy and chocolates much to the cashier's surprise—it’s ten bags of sugary goodness that make Roy's teeth itch.
“Anything else?” The cashier asks and Roy orders the extra large popcorn combo with diet coke—Roy fucking hates the taste, but Jamie loves it. The cashier inputs it all in and the total is pocket change to Roy.
Before he pays, Jamie paws at him, eyes big and pleading.
He raises a brow. “What is it?”
Jamie points to what Roy thinks is the worst thing they've brought to the cinemas.
“One… of that.” Roy sighs, scowling. The cashier giggles as Jamie rushes over to grab what he wants—a large fucking Minion plushie—and rushes back over. Roy pays without a fuss and they get their things with a thank you.
Jamie stuffs his pockets with the bags of junk food and holds his new friends, and Roy holds everything else because that's what a gentleman does.
While their hands are occupied, they hook their elbows with their shoulders pressing and ignore the stares as they make their way to their destination.
...
Roy's an idiot and forgot to grab another straw. He let Jamie bite his food at the kebab shop but this felt a bit too personal.
The film finally starts after an eternity of ads and trailers and Roy's focus is on Jamie's lips wrapped around the straw. When he's caught looking, the drink is offered to him, and he declines. To play it cool, he points to the bag of peanut M&M's in Jamie’s hand.
How the fuck was he supposed to use the same straw after that?
The bag is passed over and Roy pops a couple into his mouth, his focus back on the film. So far, it's about a wanker over heels for his best friend and makes a stupid wish to get her to like him. Roy can already predict what's going to happen just from the basic plot alone.
Nearly through the first half of the film and Roy is fucking invested, his hand digging in the popcorn bin and chewing without a second thought. There's blood, mayhem, and it's all fucking beautiful. He's a bit upset about the cat, but fuck did it add to the story.
The Minion sits on Jamie's lap and is being squeezed to death by him. It's not traditionally scary, but it's brutal.
Then, it happens.
It's not a jumpscare that gets Jamie.
The scene itself is pretty disturbing—gruesome even.
The wanker eats a sandwich that his possessed crush packed him. Turns out, it's made of his fucking deceased cat.
Roy laughs.
Jamie chokes back a noise.
“You okay?” Roy whispers off to the side, mouth full of popcorn. He forces his eyes away from the scene and stops mid-chew.
Jamie's crying.
Fat tears were rolling down his face heavily. His eyes are shut and he's biting his lips hard.
Out of everything that's transpired throughout the film, this is what got the prick—well, who wouldn't be upset at such a thing?
Roy instinctively puts an arm around him without question, and Jamie buries his face into the crook of his neck.
Fuck.
Maybe Jamie's been crying this whole time and he hasn't noticed until now.
Fucking gentlemen he was if so.
“You're all right Jamie,” Roy coos softly to him when the hiccups start up and he rubs Jamie in three circular motions. “Want to go? Needn’t stay if you're upset.”
Jamie shakes his head against him. He peeks at the screen to look away right after. “S'okay, s'okay—” he sniffles. “Big boy.”
And Roy keeps him close till the credits roll up and the lights come back on. They don't leave until Jamie has a small cry about the blood, the cat, and Sarah never getting to live her dreams.
The skies are dark and the streets are lit with lampposts and shop lights. They hold hands properly, walking through the streets. The Minion is ruining Roy's fucking vibe, but Jamie can't seem to put his friend down.
“Liked ta film?” Jamie croaks, voice small and tight. His eyes are red and his nose is whistling from his sinuses being clogged.
“I loved it.” Roy cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Bloody brilliant.”
Jamie laughs hoarsely at the honesty. “I fucking hated it. Dun't like horror stuff. Gimme nightmares.”
“That's too—wait,” Roy stops, eyes narrowing at Jamie in confusion. “You hate horror but you picked a fucking horror picture?"
Jamie shrugs, eyes up to the sky. “I thought yeh would like et over Minions.”
“O-oh.” Roy's face gets hot. There's a seed of guilt sprouting deep inside him. “You didn't have to do that for me. I could have enjoyed…” Roy trails off when his eyes land on the Minion plushie in Jamie's arm that's asking to be punched. “Minions.”
Jamie gives him a look that tells Roy he's full of shit—he might act daft but he wasn’t that fucking daft to believe Roy would sit an hour watching yellow muppets babble.
“Roy. Please.”
“You're right. I would have fucking killed myself.”
“Rooooy! It's a good franchise!” Jamie swings their arms faster and Roy follows the motion. “But I still enjoyed cuz’ yeh were there.”
“Anytime.” Roy squeezes his hand three times when he says it. Jamie squeezes back, both continuing their mindless walk.
They pass in front of a push cart selling popsicles and Roy already knows Jamie wants one when he stops with lips puckering. The prick still had bags of candy and chocolates in his pocket but he had to have a popsicle to end the night.
“That arse is going to run extra laps when we go back to work.” Roy gives him a stern look and Jamie happily taps his feet, nodding, dragging Roy over to the cart. Roy gets himself an orange popsicle and Jamie picks the blue raspberry—Roy finds out Jamie likes to eat anything blue, regardless of flavour.
They take a seat at the bench in a little park where the water lulls and the trees sway with the gentle breeze. The ambience would be nice if Jamie wasn't slurping his popsicle like his life depended on it, breaking the peace.
“Christ, Jamie. The poor thing’s been out of the fucking wrapper for a minute.”
“S'gooood.” Jamie vacuums his popsicle and Roy can't watch without his thoughts turning impure. He savours his orange popsicle—a bit too sweet for his liking—and takes a bite when it's warmed up in his mouth. Jamie finishes his and lets the wooden stick hang in his mouth. He eyes Roy’s that's barely finished and flicks the stick between his lips.
Roy glares. “Don’t even—Ugh, fine.” Roy caves in when Jamie breaks out the puppy eyes and lets him have his popsicle.
“Thank yeh very much!" Jamie sings with a wiggle of his body. “Sooo fucking good!” and he slurps viciously on it.
Roy huffs out a laugh. “I fucking know.”
Jamie slowly and teasingly pulls it out, with his brows wiggling at Roy. He pops it free from his mouth with strings of his spit breaking from his plush, puffy lips.
“Tastes better now. Say aaaaa!” He holds it up to Roy. This is worse than the straw yet Roy finds himself opening his mouth to accept the treat. It slides past his lips and when he feels the slick of Jamie's saliva touch his tongue, he's grabbing Jamie's wrist to keep it still.
Jamie gasps in horror as Roy devours everything down to the stick. “Hey! Meh fucking popsicle!”
“Was mine and you’re right. It does taste fucking better. Delicious.” Roy licks the sugar off his lips, craving more.
“I, um,” Jamie gulps, eyes sharp and swimming with determination, his cheeks a vivid scarlet. “Got some leftover on meh mouth.” It comes out seductively and grips Roy hard.
“Smooth.”
And Roy pulls him in, their lips meeting without hesitation. Jamie tastes what Roy imagined, sweet and filling him with a warmth that isn't sharp. His heart's pounding hard without the pain for once but his leg starts to tap three times. He leans back and Jamie only follows to keep them locked in place—it seems he wasn't going to let Roy go.
A hand rests on top of Roy's bouncing leg, squeezing it six times. Like a switch, his leg gradually slows down and stops completely, relaxing under the tender squeezes and leans back in.
A few passersbys whistle and chuckle at them and they ignore it all, lost in the space they share together.
Roy turns down Jamie's street and the house comes into view. He parks in the driveway and gives Jamie a slight nudge.
“Well, you're home.”
Jamie jerks awake from his little snooze, and yawns loudly, arms stretching and bending over his head due to the low car ceiling.
“Fuuuuuck. It's over, innit?” He sounds disappointed and Roy can't blame him. The date went surprisingly well, not that he was thinking it wouldn't, but halfway Roy forgot he was on a first date with Jamie. It came so naturally too. The nervousness would bubble up from time to time to only pop from the energy Jamie carried.
They look at the house and then each other
“Sooo.” Jamie twiddles his thumbs, whistling.
“Soooo.” Roy parrots. The question is suspended in the air and the other is waiting to ask the other.
“Sooooooooo,” Jamie drawls it back, unwavering.
“Sooooooooooooo.” Roy refuses to be the one to ask and will keep this up until Jamie caved or got out of his car.
“Soooooooooooooooooooo.” Jamie's on the same page, giving Roy a smug look like he knows who's going to win.
“Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” Oh, Roy can do this all day.
“Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.”
“Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” Roy's brow twitches. Okay, retract that. He is a weak man.
Jamie catches his growing annoyance and smirks. He gets close to Roy's ear, clearing his throat and takes a deep breath. Roy closes his eyes and braces for it—a test to see if he can truly deal with this brat.
“Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo—” and Jamie keeps going.
“Fuck!” Roy screams and bangs his fist on the horn, making Jamie flinch with a chuckle. Well, this fucking shows who's the weakest out of the two. “Can I come in and we have a fucking snog? I have to piss anyway.”
Jamie pecks his cheek and excitedly exits the car without the bouquet and Minion plushie. Roy grabs it for him—probably knows he would've. Exiting his car with the items in hand, Jamie's already inside, leaving the door wide open for him.
Roy stops when he's at the porch, his giddiness dying instantly. The voice that was buried resurfaces violently and it's screaming at him in a full-blown rage. His insecurities and doubts judder through his head ferociously, scraping against his skull. They remind him that Jamie's 15 years younger, that Roy's his fucking coach, and how he's this lad's fucking childhood hero—supposedly.
The voice laughs at him, telling him he has massive commitment issues and while Keeley assured him their breakup wasn't about commitment, they still broke up when they couldn't make it work out—same thing, innit?
Could Roy really look past the times they'd headbutted each other? The insults and resentment were all compiled in a vault and ready to come out when Roy needed to add a kick to his punches when he lost his temper.
Could he really do that to Jamie?
No.
He couldn't.
He liked Jamie too much to do that to him.
Another voice snaps at him to grow a fucking pair and walk through the door. It reminds him Jamie had choices too—could have said no to the date, could have laughed at Roy's odd tics, could have picked the stupid Minions movie, could have pulled away from the kiss and yet Jamie didn't.
Jamie said yes. Jamie was comforting and understanding. Jamie picked a movie Roy would like, sacrificing his own comfort. Jamie wanted to kiss.
And now, Jamie is waiting for him to walk through the door, wanting him to come inside.
It's an invitation.
Roy rubs his face.
He has a choice to go inside or leave—doesn’t know which is the right answer. He looks up to the sky that has stars—none are fucking bright like Jamie's eyes.
He dips his head down to the large Minion plushie in hand. It's stupid, obscenely large eye stares back at Roy, smiling at him.
Roy glares and growls at it. “Well, what do you suppose I fucking do?” he asks it and thinks he's insane to think the hideous thing could answer a question that'll determine his fate.