“I hate to break it to you,” Ruth said one day when he was complaining to her about retirement. “You’ll never be normal.”
Ruth was probably right. Annoyingly, she usually was, though he would never admit that to her. And more and more, he found himself going to her for advice. Sometimes, he wished she talked the same amount she did when she was a baby, but she somehow always knew what he needed, even when he didn’t.
After the disaster of Wembley, Roy lay in bed staring at his ceiling as if it might provide the missing key to unlocking the Jamie Tartt cypher. Only instead of answers he only found more questions. He lay there until he couldn’t stand it any longer and found himself on his way to A&E under the guise of bringing his hardworking sister food during her night shift. Roy shouldn’t have let Jamie go home alone. He offered his guest room, but he shouldn’t have phrased it as a question.
He should have insisted. If he had insisted then, maybe they both would have been asleep. Maybe if he insisted, he would have been able to sleep instead of the nightmare scene of Wembley dressing room replaying every time he closed his fucking eyes.
You can have that one for free.
He could have gone to Keeley’s, called Ted, Beard, or even Isaac, but he wanted someone outside the Jamie-sphere. He wanted the comfort only his sister could bring him; she might be the only one who could quiet the noise in his head.
When Colin and Isaac are messing with Jamie, they play a voicemail left on his phone, thinking it’s from some girl. In reality, however, it is a voicemail Jamie’s dad left for him. Jamie flees the scene before anyone can intervene, but when Roy finds a bruised striker in the locker room the next day, he’s not going to let it pass him by. He’ll take care of Jamie, even if he has to force the prick.
On ao3.
Ships: none
Warnings: abuse of an adult child, misogynistic language, internalized victim blaming
~~~
Chapter 6: But He Looks Sad
Roy doesn’t know what the fuck Sarah did to Jamie when he agreed to let her look at Jamie without him there. She called it hovering, which is not what he would have fucking done. He’d just fucking- I don’t know, made sure everything was fucking okay. That’s fucking normal.
Fuck Sarah for being judge-y about it, especially since it was clearly fucking necessary with the way Jamie’s eyes are rimmed red when they return. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything to him, Roy-o,” Sarah rolls her eyes, making his blood boil in the way only little sisters can. “We just had a chat, right? And Jamie here has agreed to go to the hospital to get an x-ray and a proper assessment to pass onto the coaches.”
Whatever ire he had for her, gets washed away by worry when the word ‘hospital’ passes her lips. He can feel his brows furrow and he asks: “Is it bad?”
“Nowt to worry about, old man. I’m fine,” Jamie says with a voice that is still a bit too small and while he is still half behind Sarah too. “Just want to make sure everything’s fine for sure. Get documentation of it, just in case.”
Documentation. Fucking shit.
During his talks with Jamie, it hadn’t really seemed like the lad was up for altering his view of his dad and what he had done to Jamie. Obviously Sarah had been fucking better at talking to Jamie about it, which is good. But it’s still fucking shit that that fucking shithead of the scum of the earth had put Jamie in a position where he needed fucking documentation.
At least, it’s nothing too serious, that’s a silver lining, he think to himself as he fails to convince himself that he believes it. Whatever the case may be, he’s not going to fuck up Jamie getting help by opening his big fat fucking mouth, since he’s never been good at talking about shit.
So he just grunts in approval for Jamie’s choice and scrapes himself off the couch as he ignores how old and fucked his body is getting. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
Jamie seems to be grateful for the lack of following interrogation or commentary, which is fine by Roy, because he can do silence unlike anybody fucking else.
When they get to the hospital, Jamie has to sit in the waiting room for a bit, which is a fucking good thing, Roy reminds himself. If you get pushed up in the line at the hospital, that’s bad. However, that doesn’t stop him from thinking it’s fucking shit anyway. Especially because Jamie next to him seems to want to disappear for all he’s worth and while he’s not dressed in his usual obnoxious clothes for the moment, both him and Jamie are still very fucking recognizable.
Like he feared, they get a little lad running up to them, stars in his eyes as he asks for an autograph. Roy is about to tell him to fuck off, because he’s Roy Fucking Kent and he can get away with that shit. But then Jamie next to him is smiling and chatting with the boy as if it’s any other day and he’s happy to brighten the lad’s day.
It’s fucking weird how easily he does it. He plays of being here like it’s some footie thing that is unimportant, half imparting a lesson of taking care of yourself onto the bugger, like Jamie isn’t being some massive hypocrite.
Looking at how easily Jamie plasters it on, despite how fucking shit Roy knows he’s feeling, makes him a little nauseous. Makes him think of how long this has been happening for Jamie to be an actor like that. How he kept insisting he can play, as if that’s the important thing. Makes him wonder how many times it might have been Roy pushing him around, while Jamie hid the evidence of what his dad does to him under his shirt. How he never would have fucking known, if it weren’t for that stupid overheard voicemail that Jamie never meant for any of them to hear.
Fucking hell. Jamie had planned to take this to his fucking grave and never ask for help and Roy didn’t even fucking notice, because he’s a shit fucking captain and he’s still trying to undo all the damage he’s done at Richmond by being a shitty fucking captain and that’s already fucking shit. But he doesn’t know if he can undo this sort of damage. Can’t imagine why Jamie would still fucking trust him to even help the way he did today. Vows not to do anything to break that trust.
Eventually, Jamie is called up and without a word, Roy gets up too. Sarah had written down her observations and signed it, before going to get Phoebe’s from the neighbors, since she had left on short notice when Roy called, so it’s just them. And Roy plainly doesn’t feel like leaving Jamie by himself to be fucking prodded at. Fuck no. If Jamie has a problem with it, he can open his fucking mouth.
But Jamie does not appear to have a problem with it. In fact, he gives Roy a small grateful look when he gets up with him. G-d fucking shit, he’s just a fucking kid. Makes Roy feel all fucked up inside. Protective and shit.
What the fuck has his life gone to that he’s fucking worried and protective about Jamie fucking Tartt? And what does it fucking say about him that he doesn’t even fucking mind?
He’s thankful for the fact that they walk out of the hospital with the assurance that Jamie had been right and it’s only bruising – Roy tries to be glad for it, instead of fucked up over the fact that Jamie can recognize the difference so well – and an ordered rest away from training for two weeks.
Next to him, Jamie is quiet and looking less relieved than Roy expected. It’s not great to see Jamie of all people quiet and stuck in his head, thinking, but Roy doesn’t really know what to do with the fact that he misses Jamie’s annoying nattering about this and that, so he keeps his mouth shut.
It’s not until they’re halfway home that Jamie says: “I’m gonna have to tell Ted about me not being able to play and shit. And all the lads will know I can’t play. And they- they all heard, didn’t they?” The last part is a hushed whisper.
“Yeah, they heard,” Roy sighs, because this is not something where sugarcoating it for Jamie will help anything. Everyone fucking heard his piece of shit dad demean him and threaten him and then he’s going to show up bruised and unable to play. Even the fucking dolts at Richmond are going to be able to put two and two together.
“Fuck.” Jamie curses with the most emotion he’s had all day. Roy can relate.
“It’s a fucking shit situation, yeah,” he agrees.
That at least gets an amused huff from Jamie, which is more than he could have hoped for honestly. They drive in silence for the most part afterwards, the unspoken agreement that Jamie is going to stay with Roy – instead of fucking off to G-d knows where the prick had planned to run off to – intact.
Though, he’s not being a prick, is he? With all his walls stripped away, Jamie is actually a pretty alright bloke to be around. It leaves Roy to sit with the knowledge that Jamie’s hissing and spitting anger at everyone has been a protection scheme. An act that had been demanded of him to minimize the amount of getting the shit kicked out of him he’d have to take. A shield to protect himself.
Roy has already known he failed as a captain, but it gets pressed home once more and he stubbornly refuses to fail more. Roy Kent doesn’t fucking lose. Not on the pitch and not off it either.
“You can’t fucking train until you’re cleared, so you can just stay the fuck home tomorrow and put off talking to the physios until later,” he offers gruffly. “I can talk to the lads, tell them to not fucking talk about it too, if you want.”
“I’m not some pussy who can’t face some third-rate amateurs,” Jamie scowls, slouching in the seat next to Roy, even though it must fucking hurt with the bruising he has.
A sharp annoyance lances through Roy at the barbed words, but with everything he’s seen, it is easier not to snap. Instead, he sees it for the counter-attack at what he perceives to be Roy’s attack. So, Roy takes a deep breath, then calmly says: “You’re not fucking talking about them like that. I know you’re fucking pissy and embarrassed, but you don’t got to do this shit. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll make sure it’s not a fucking topic of conversation, but we’re stopping this shit, right now.”
Jamie studies him with a suspicious look on his face, then almost testing, he replies: “And what if I don’t, huh? What if I ain’t playing nice?”
Had it been yesterday, Roy would have told him that if he didn’t then Roy was going to punch him so hard his teeth would get acquainted with his stomach. Now, even saying that despite knowing Roy will never go through on that sort of violence, makes him feel sick. However, with how waspish Jamie is about being seen as soft, a complete 180 approach also doesn’t seem smart.
After a moment of deliberation, Roy says: “Then we need to have a serious fucking talk about it – just a fucking talk, like we would with any of those fucking twats on the team, who aren’t doing their fucking jobs. Because playing nice is part of your fucking job, Jamie. And that has nothing to do with any of this today, you hear me? This will stay. But if you want to be a prick to everyone, because you think you got something to prove, then that’s going to impact your fucking career.”
He glances over to Jamie, making sure he’s hearing what Roy is telling him, because this is important and Jamie is so fucking bright it fucking hurts. When he’s content to see the prick is taking him seriously for a change, he asks: “Do you have any fucking clue how bad it would fucking look if Richmond pulled the plug on your loan for behavioral issues? Because that’s where you’re fucking headed right now.”
Jamie stares at him with wide eyes, face becoming pale as he asks: “They’re planning to send me back there?”
And Roy regrets his course of action a little, even though Jamie needs to learn. He’s so fucking talented, it pisses Roy off, however, he knows it’ll piss him off more if the prick fucks his career up, because his dad filled his head with shit about being manly and dominating on the pitch or whatever the fuck.
“No, not fucking yet,” he grunts. “Nothing big enough has happened yet, but enough small shit that piles up will eventually fucking lead to it. You got to pick what you want to do right now. Do you want to be whoever your dad wants you to be and cock everything up, or do you want to grow and actually be someone a lad will want to put a fucking poster up on his wall for? I am going to help you with this shit with your dad, no questions asked, because you’re a fucking person, who needs it. But that has nothing to do with your fucking career. If you want to fuck that shit up, you can do that on your fucking own. I’m not fucking helping you with that.”
That shuts Jamie up for the last part of the drive and as they go into the house. Roy worries a little that he said the wrong thing, even if he thought Jamie would appreciate the blunt honesty more than anything that could be misinterpreted as pity. However, he doubts that a little when watching Jamie sit on the couch staring into the nothing as he mindlessly fiddles with his sleeves and chews his bottom lip open.
Roy makes lunch and hopes he hasn’t fucked it completely, trying to figure out a way to fix this, knowing he should have kept his mouth shut when he has never been good with fucking words.
Of course, since Jamie lives to fucking spite Roy, he surprises Roy by coming to sit at the table when Roy puts down the food and, unprompted, going: “You’re right. Fuck him. I ain’t fucking shit up just because he’s a fucking dick. I’ll be nice to the lads tomorrow, do better.”
If there is anything Roy thought Jamie would never say to him, it’s ‘you’re right’ yet here he is. Fucking surprising little twat, he is.
Though, it shouldn’t have been, he realizes, looking Jamie in the eyes. You don’t become a footballer, especially not with a background like theirs, if you haven’t got the ability to keep the goal in sight and do whatever it is you got to do to get there. Jamie has mulled over his words, decided that if he wants to be the star of the show, he’ll have to have clubs like him – instead of appeasing his dad and pissing everyone off in the process – so that is what he is going to fucking do.
Roy doesn’t know how it went in Jamie’s head, seeing as just this morning, he seemed to think that what his dad had been doing was totally fucking fine. However, he did have that cry with Sarah where they talked about whatever the fuck it was. Probably something got through to him there and he’s enough of a goal orientated twat, who probably likes emotions as much as the next footballer, that he’s moving forward with his choice.
Whatever it has been, Roy really fucking doesn’t want to be the person to have the mushy feelings conversation with him about it. So he just nods: “Good lad,” then digs in.
Jamie looks pleased with himself and follows his example. Though after a few bites, his inability to shut up returns and he says: “I’m going to come in tomorrow. It, uh- it would be nice if you could, you know, maybe tell the lads to fuck off if they get to personal about it. I’m gonna play nice, not give a fucking press conference about how my dad’s a dick and I’m a soft fucking pussy.”
“You’re not a soft fucking pussy,” Roy growls at him, because now that he’s recognizing the negative thought pattern his dad taught Jamie, he’s not letting the kid get away with it. “But fine. I’ll make sure we won’t sit around in a fucking circle braiding each other’s hair. Even if Lasso would fucking love that.”
“Fucking Lasso,” Jamie snorts, verbalizing a thought Roy has had often since the rodeo clown showed up.
“Fucking Lasso,” he agrees, earning himself another pleased grin from Jamie, which is a lot more tolerable than his usual swarmy smirk.
Jamie chatters on about fucking useless shit that Roy doesn’t give a shit about. However, he knows how to nod along and pretend to care, so he fucking does that throughout lunch. What a strange fucking world they live in, don’t they.
Afterward, he checks his phone and remembers that he never told the others that he found Jamie, too caught up in the how he found Jamie to think about it. It’s surprising that it hasn’t hit twitter yet that Jamie was seen at the fucking hospital and Roy knows he needs to be the one to say something before that comes out and everyone works themselves in a tizzy even more.
He texts simply: Found Jamie. Took him to get checked out. Will be fucking fine and is with me.
That invites a whole new shitstorm of messages ranging from Jamie’s well being, to why the fuck he hasn’t been answering, to how Roy of all people found him, and where did he find him, to if they can come see if he’s okay, to needing proof and to just plain relief.
“Oi, go charge your phone and send a fucking message in the group chat to let everyone know you’re fucking alive,” Roy says. “Everyone has been freaking out since yesterday.”
“They have?” Jamie frowns in surprised confusion. “Why? They don’t even like me. Nowt to be worried about either.”
Every time Roy thinks he can forget that Jamie seemingly has never figured out what it is like to have people care about him, he gets reminded of the fact. “So?” he shoots back. “After that shit and you disappearing, they’re going to be fucking worried, Jamie. Basic fucking human decency.”
“Oh,” Jamie replies, looking small again.
Fucking G-d, save him, because Roy is going to make sure that Jamie knows that people care about him, because fucking somehow, he has found himself caring about the prick. Fucking Lasso indeed.
Roy Kent would 100% take Phoebe and his sister to see 'Six the Musical' live, and you can't change my mind.
He probably thinks it's the greatest stage musical in British theatres in the 21st century; he gets into vigorous debates about which Queen has the best song.
Ngl when I see ppl shipping Jamie and Dr. O'Sullivan I think they're at least a little homophobic and very straight.
well, i disagree with a blanket accusation of homophobia, but I do think it's an opinion that holds a very ~straight appeal~, definitely, lol.
there are honestly a boat load of reasons i hate it but they boil down to:
i kind of get why people (esp. a segment of the general audience) might be attracted to it because it's soooo something (bad) shows/sitcoms would do. Like, my god is it TRITE. Predictable, formulaic...boring as all hell! Of course he's going to get with the nameless sister who has less than five minutes total of screen time, just for a little added spice and drama, sure. That's what happens in (bad) shows. But luckily for the rest of us, Ted Lasso even at its worst is not that brand of bad, lol.
it's completely baseless? Nothing wrong with a baseless ship i guess, but at the same time...literally why this one? lol. Like, Jamie and Roy's sister share one scene together in which I don't believe they even say anything to one another directly? There is no chemistry, no...anything? The entire premise for the ship seems to be Jamie telling Roy his sister is hot. Which was very clearly intended as a way for Jamie to get under Roy's skin. Nothing about the scene makes me want to see those two dating.
the big proponents of it i've seen (often, definitely not always) seem to fit into one of two categories 1) people who don't really like Jamie and/or are upset Jamie "got in the way" of their ship, and thus want him to be written into a corner that pulls him away from their preferred couple/inherently shuffles up their dynamic. they don't actually care to watch a plot between Jamie & Roy's sister, they just want Jamie firmly categorized as Taken and thus Not Interested in Roy and/or Keeley, and this is a convenient and predictable(y stupid) way to do it. lol.
OR 2) people who DO really like Jamie and in fact really like Roy & Jamie, but in a very "no homo" way, who want to see more of their dynamic and have a way to define/further explore their closeness, whilst also justifying their own enjoyment of it, that's well set apart from "they have homoerotic tension." Jamie & Roy's sister dating holds an appeal because it more explicitly puts their relationship into firm "brotherly" territory. And I unabashedly loathe that for the same reason i loathe "Roy is Jamie's father figure!" ...foremost because no really, they can just be best friends!! Even if you do not want to ship roy-jamie romantically, you do not need to slap different familial labels on them (or put them into random other pairings) to make their relationship "more." Their relationship is already "more"...they are canonically best friends!! idk if I'm explaining this in the best way but the mindset behind it often feels very rooted in ~the nuclear family is the most important relationship a person can achieve~ and thus a need to fit everyone into traditional family roles (and in some cases that PLUS blatant homophobia) and it gives me a personal ick. Ew.
If you want to see quirky jamie & phoebe antics or roy and jamie bickering, Jamie x Roy's sister getting it on is in fact not actually necessary for any of that? (and imo doesn't add anything to anyone's arc) Going back to point one...using that pairing to get there feels TO ME very boring and sitcom cartoony.
(i also obviously dislike it for my personal shippy reasons and must acknowledge my bias. 🫡 Jamie dating his best friend's sister when he clearly has a crush on said best friend is a relationship-based mental low point/cry for help i do not actually want him to go through as my fav character, LOL.)
(disclaimer: people can of course feel differently and are entitled to ship whoever they want without even needing a clear reason or explanation! that's totally valid! i want to reiterate I don't think it's inherently problematic as a ship. I just personally think it's a rotten tomato of a plot point and i'm so beyond glad the show didn't waste time entertaining it.)
Roy constantly dunks on his sister because no matter how bad his handwriting is, hers is somehow worse.
What makes him extra insufferable is the fact that he can actually read it, he just pretends that he can’t to rile her up.
Like she leaves him a note for when he picks up Phoebe from school and brings her home, and halfway through her shift she gets a message that’s just a picture of her note—‘pull the chicken out to thaw’—and he’s all ‘’Phoebe’s flying to Thailand?’ Guess I’ll pack her bags.’ She’s texts back, ‘you’re not funny,’ and he replies, ‘no but I am rich and I just told her that you said you’re going on holiday. She’s very excited’
He ends up booking Phoebe and his sister a room at a fancy hotel with a full spa package for the weekend. Phoebe gets to order unlimited room service. She has a blast.
