hi! prompt for Roy and Jamie (as a ship or platonic is up to you!) if it interests you, could I request Roy getting protective over somebody hitting on and making Jamie uncomfortable at a bar?
I’m finding that Roy is a lot of fun to write. The man has presence. (There a LOT of *fruity* language in this one.)
Written as early relationship Roy/Jamie. Thank you for the prompt and hope you enjoy!
(Prompt Fill Masterpost)
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“Excuse me!”
Jamie turned around at the shout and grip on his arm, half a smile on his face from laughing with the bartender as he ordered.
A young woman was grinning at him excitedly, bouncing a little when his attention focused on her. She fluffed her hair with the hand that wasn’t squeezing his bicep.
“Alright, darling?” Jamie gave her a quick once over, expecting a request for a selfie if she happened to be into football.
“Are you Jamie? From Lust Conquers All?”
Ah.
He chuckled a bit and nodded, giving her his best photoshoot smile. You have to be nice to the fans, after all.
“Yep, guilty!”
“I fucking knew it!” she crowed, pressing in closer. Jamie felt the edge of the bar dig into his back. “I told my friends it was you!”
“Oh, you out with your mates, then?” Jamie glanced behind her, trying to spot a group that might be waiting to pull her back away. No one stood out and she ignored his question completely.
“It was a total fix, you getting voted off! You were well more fit than Danthony. He barely got his kit off.”
Right. Okay, then.
“Nah, he were a nice enough lad, actually.” Jamie told her, keeping it friendly and gently trying to pull his arm away. “Listen, d’you want a photo or…?”
“Don’t you think I look like Amy?”
“Eh…” She did, a bit, if Jamie really thought about it. It might have just been the blonde hair and hoop earrings, though. And that didn’t detract from it being a fucking weird question.
“Need a tray for your drinks, mate?” Jamie turned back to the bartender at the (very welcome) interruption and felt the woman’s hand shift from his arm to his chest with the movement.
He grit his teeth and gave the guy setting out his round a tight smile and nod as her polished fingernails scraped the skin exposed by his mostly open shirt.
“Shit, you didn’t let yourself go after the show, did you?” she asked, staring at his bared muscles and seemingly oblivious to any concept of personal space. “Buy me a drink?”
“Oh, er, no thanks.”
“Come off it.” She pouted at him and squeezed in closer, standing practically between his legs. “You can’t tell me I’m not your type.”
Jamie swallowed hard, glancing around now for his own friends. But the team were sequestered away in the VIP section, waiting on him returning with their orders.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re lovely, but I’m currently spoken for.”
“Didn’t stop you on the show.”
“Fucking hell.” Jamie had to laugh. This whole thing was ridiculous. Even at the height of his prickiest moments, he’d known when to take a hint - apparently that memo was not universally received.
There was no room to move away from her, either. The club was heaving with people enjoying their Friday night and the crowd around the bar penned him in on all sides. A jostle from the group behind them had the woman pressed right up against his front.
She grinned, taking his incredulity and the sudden contact as a good sign.
“Oi, Tartt.” Oh shit.
The movement in the crowd had not, apparently, been caused by inebriated partiers trying to get closer to the bar. Rather, it had been Roy Fucking Kent pushing his way through to find out what was taking so long.
If panic at the thought of potentially causing a scene had been playing at the edges of Jamie’s mind, the idea of Roy seeing some random woman plastered all over him in a dark club dialled it up to a full-blown catastrophe.
This Thing™ between them was still fresh and new (and a bit lovely). He wasn’t sure it could weather presumed infidelity and a tabloid shitshow just yet.
Roy was frowning, no surprises there. His dark eyes went from Jamie’s face, to the new attachment on his chest, and back again. “Who the fuck is this?”
She bristled at the dismissive tone. “Who are you? His dad?”
Jamie winced. Ouch.
And the thing was, he wasn’t scared of Roy’s reaction. He hadn’t been properly scared of Roy for years. But, objectively, he knew that the man before him cut a pretty intimidating figure when he wanted to.
Dressed all in black under the strobing lights of a nightclub, he looked like a solid shadow with anger issues. Crossing his arms and raising his voice to be heard was all it took for a good metre radius to clear out around him, defying the laws of both physics and London nightlife.
Jamie was suddenly struck by the memory of Roy striding into a club, headbutting Colin, and giving them all a telling off. He’d been scary in that moment, and Jamie knew he’d had to admit to himself that night that his Kent crush was not as dead and buried as he’d hoped.
“Get the fuck off of him, you nutty arsemonger.”
Between her shock at the colourful insult and the extra room to manoeuvre, Jamie managed to extricate himself without much further fuss and snatched up the ready tray of drinks to use as a barrier.
“You can’t talk to me like that!” she seethed, cheeks flushed and hands gone to fists at her sides, her grip on Jamie forgotten.
“I can do a hell of a lot worse,” Roy growled. “Bugger off, before I call security.”
Sensing defeat, and perhaps the phone cameras no doubt being whipped out around them, the woman gave Jamie one last leering, disappointed look before stalking off in the opposite direction of Roy.
Jamie slumped in relief until he caught his (boyfriend?)’s gaze. Roy’s face was unreadable. He just stared at Jamie for a moment longer, then turned away.
“Come on, then. Been waiting fucking ages.”
Suddenly unsure if he’d been right to dismiss fear so quickly, Jamie followed along behind him, focusing on not spilling anything while his mind whirred incessantly.
They rounded the curtain that separated the VIP room from the rest of the venue and a cheer went up at the sight of a fresh round. Jamie set his burden down quickly, accepting the thanks of his teammates while constantly glancing over to the corner where Roy had settled to brood.
Grabbing their drinks, he made his way over and cautiously sat beside him.
“... Roy?”
“Are you alright?” Well, that wasn’t what Jamie had expected. Especially since the words sounded like they’d been dragged from Roy’s throat by force. “Be fucking honest.”
“Erm, yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks.” Jamie licked his lips nervously. “Why?”
Roy shut his eyes tight and sighed heavily. “Jesus Christ. Because you just had some tart’s hands all over you and she clearly wouldn’t take ‘no’ for a fucking answer.”
“Oh.” Jamie shrugged and looked down at his glass, tapping his thumbnails against the rim. “Used to it, ain’t I? Are you alright? Cause, being honest, I don’t know if you’re angry at me or not and it’s kind of freaking me out.”
His fidgeting stilled when Roy’s hand found his knee and squeezed.
“I’m not angry at you, Jamie.”
At the much softer tone, Jamie risked looking at him again and found Roy watching him with a pinched expression.
“I am wondering why you didn’t just tell her to piss off sooner.”
“It weren’t like I encouraged her!” Jamie protested.
“I’m not saying you did. Believe it or not, I have had my share of mental fans having a grope over the years.” Jamie fought down a flush of outrage and jealousy at that. “You don’t have to be fucking nice to them, though. You, fuck, you shouldn’t be ‘used to it’.”
Unable to resist, Jamie leaned in and kissed away Roy’s scowl.
“You’re sweet.” he murmured, smiling at the gruff protest he got in response. “No, you are. Deal with it.”
With a sigh, he leaned into Roy’s side and organised his thoughts.
“After I did that reality show, most of my brand deals and that just… went away.” He felt Roy shift beside him but the grip on his knee stayed steady, so much nicer than the hand on him earlier had been. “I got trashed online for acting like a prick and no one wanted to touch me. Not even City. Fuck, I had to beg Ted for another chance here.”
Roy knew most of this, of course. He even had a clearer idea now of why exactly Jamie had risked his football career for Lust Conquers All.
“I just. Everything’s better now. Life is fucking mint. But I know that all it takes is one shitty tweet about me being an arsehole or a dodgy video taken out of context and, boom. It’s viral and I’m untouchable again.”
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” The quiet exhalation made Jamie huff a laugh. Roy took a swig of his beer before speaking again. “First of all, we’re not going to let anything like that happen. And by ‘we’ I mean that entire gaggle of idiots, plus me, plus Keeley and Beard and Rebecca and Higgins and, fuck, even Nate these days.
“Someone says shit about you, all of Richmond will be up in arms to fight them about it, alright?”
He waited for Jamie to nod in acknowledgement before continuing,
“And second - I never had to deal with all this shit. The worst I’ve had is the press camped outside my house after some messy breakup or fight on the pitch. I don’t know how you lads do it with all the tweeting and posting and blogging you’re supposed to keep up with. It’s fucking exhausting just hearing about it.”
(Jamie very maturely refrained from making the obvious jokes about how ancient Roy sounded.)
“So if me doing shit like that -” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bar. “Ever makes things worse for you, then I’m fucking sorry and you need to tell me.”
That was… genuinely very touching. Jamie snuggled in closer, throat tight.
“And finally,” Roy went on, pressing a kiss to head on his shoulder. “Your consent fucking matters, Jamie. If someone makes you uncomfortable, be as much of a prick as you like and damn the consequences.”
Jamie laughed again and shifted away to grin properly at Roy. “Is that you giving me blanket permission, coach?”
In response, Roy just gave him the middle finger, face hilariously deadpan. It really shouldn’t have made Jamie melt like it did.
He leaned in again, feeling safe in the relative privacy of their booth, and kissed Roy slow and deep. They were both breathing hard when he broke away and smirked.
“Maybe next time we go out, I’ll get to be the one prying some MILF off of you. Then you’ll find out exactly how much of a prick I can be.”
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Roy’s first month of managing Richmond, he still wakes up at 4 a.m. every morning.
There’s no reason for it; work doesn’t start until 8 and he doesn't need to do extra training sessions with Jamie any more. But his body can’t break the habit, so he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling.
4 a.m. is when night is over but morning has not quite begun, when the world is quiet and distant and there is room for thoughts which would otherwise be unthought and feelings which would otherwise be unfelt.
-
4 a.m. is Jamie flinging open his front door with a big grin and a stupid head torch, saying, “Morning coach!” and bounding off with such enthusiasm that Roy has to scramble to keep up with him.
-
4 a.m. is the team finally calling it a night after celebrating a tough win, Issac and Colin propping up Sam, Jan Mass giggling, and Dani coming tearing out of the club yelling “Back to the hoteeeeeeeeeel!” and everyone running joyfully after him. Everyone except Jamie, who is leaning against the wall of the club and watching Roy with a hint of a smile.
“Fucking what?” Roy growls.
“You’re doing good. At this manager thing, I mean. The boys like it when you come celebrate with us.”
-
4 a.m. is sunrise over Richmond Park, the trees swaying in the breeze, deer leaping away in the distance, a blanket of silence muffling London’s ever-present hum of traffic. It is Jamie’s contentment as he runs, the way he springs forward to meet every step, with the rays of the rising sun painting streaks of red and gold through his hair.
-
4 a.m. is the time the team bus breaks down and strands them in a field in the middle of nowhere, and most of the lads are asleep in their seats but Roy finds Jamie sitting a little distance away on a grassy bank, looking up at the sky.
“Proper good view of the stars here, innit?”
Roy cranes his neck to take in the view of bright white points splashed across the darkness. He hums and lowers himself to sit next to Jamie.
“That one’s Rigel.” Jamie points. “And over there, that’s Betelgeuse. About to go supernova and everything. It’s gonna explode and take out everything around it, but after that, it’ll leave behind a cloud of dust n shit which’ll make new stars. Mental, right?”
Roy glances at him sideways. “How d’you know all this shit?”
Jamie shrugs one shoulder. “Me mum used to take me to the observatory as a kid. Said it was good for my cultural development. But I think I just liked the view.”
Jamie is staring up at the stars, but Roy is looking at Jamie’s face, soft, open, and full of wonder.
-
4 a.m. is a stupid time to be doing this. Roy stands in front of Jamie’s door and hesitates before knocking. Who the fuck shows up out of the blue at someone’s house at this hour? But he’d woken up early again and the world had seemed grating, like something important was missing, and almost against his will his feet had carried him here.
He knocks and, much quicker than he expects, the hallway light flicks on and footsteps thump down the stairs. Jamie opens the door fully dressed and wide awake, and beams.
“Morning coach! You want a cup of coffee?”
Roy blinks. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here at this ridiculous time?”
Jamie's forehead wrinkles. "I'm sure you've got a good reason."
“I couldn’t sleep. Can’t sleep, I mean. I still wake up at 4 a.m. every morning."
Jamie nods. “Yeah. Me too.”
"I -" Roy squirms, hating feeling so visible. "I miss this."
Jamie looks up at him, surprised.
"I miss you."
Jamie blushes, then fidgets with his sleeves. "You see me every day."
"It's not the same though. I miss starting my day with you."
"Oh." Jamie's cheeks are blotched with pink. "We could go for a run together? Do some training?'
It's tempting. Roy could say yes, and they could jog around the park, and it could be like it was before. A little piece of familiarity in a season of changes.
But that's not what Roy is here for.
"I don't want to train," he says, and Jamie's face falls.
He steps closer, right up to the doorway, a mere few inches between them. He reaches out, stopping himself just before his hand lands on Jamie's chest.
He looks up, meets Jamie's eye, makes sure he knows what Roy is offering. His hand meets Jamie's chest, solid and warm. "I want something else."
"Oh." Jamie scarcely moves, has to remind himself to breathe by the looks of it, and then one of those soft, beautiful 4 a.m. smiles spreads across his face and he steps back to open the door. "Then I guess you'd better come in."
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