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Inspired by Discord, here are two RoyJamie icons. Feel free to take and use.
Wait nope second try: hi! Hello! Can i ask for tedependent or royjamie with either: ❛ if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up. ❜ or “Touch me there. Right there.” :3c
He isn't serious when he answers Jamie's call with, "If you called just to get off on my voice, I'm hanging up."
This dumb thing between them is new and weird but also old news and completely normal and Roy won't explain it any better than that. Can't, because he has no fucking clue how to.
Season's over; Ted's fucked off back to America; Keeley won't take either of them back because they're so fucking annoying. And the worst part of all of that was thinking that the obnoxious prick he spent years hating is both his best fucking friend and his, fucking, bisexual awakening or whatever won't want to be either of those things anymore after their fight over Keeley. Except he did, he does, and now they're doing whatever it is they're doing, fucking about, and that's how Roy answers the fucking phone at one in the morning. Like a prick.
Predictably, Jamie whines. "I didn't even say nothing! You didn't even say hi!"
"Hi," Roy deadpans as the final minutes of Bake-Off continue to play quietly on his TV. "If you called just to—"
"You're such an arsehole, I don't know why I even called you," Jamie grouses, and there's a bang like a heavy door swinging shut underneath his words.
"Don't know why you called me either," Roy says. "Thought you went out with the lads. Gave you permission to drink for it and everything."
Jamie sighs. "Yeah, dead nice of you, that," he says. "I dunno. I just—missed you. You should come out with us, next time."
Clicking through to the next episode, Roy rolls his eyes. "I'm not going out drinking with you menaces for a whole night. I have things to do," he lies.
"Liar," Jamie says immediately. "Phoebe's with her mum and I'm not there, am I? So you ain't got shit to do."
"Well then maybe you should have stayed in with me so I'd have something to do," Roy fires back.
There's an odd silence after that that makes Roy wince. He opens his mouth to apologize.
"Yeah, no, that's," Jamie says, cutting him off. "That sounds way better. Let's do that next time. S'way more fun. Hey, can we have sex yet, please?"
"How much have you had to drink?"
Jamie hums. "Mmmmthree...? Maybe four. I don't know."
"Well then we're definitely not having sex tonight, are we?" Roy scoffs and, miracle of miracles, Jamie makes an agreeable noise. Neither of them are interested in discussing why they haven't had sex yet, it seems, which is nice. "Maybe next time."
"Yeah!" Jamie cheers, loud enough that Roy has to pull his phone away from his ear. Then, "Oi, my ride's here, I gotta go. See you tomorrow?"
"Fine," Roy sighs, as if he's not looking forward to it. "Not at 4 a.m."
"Pshh, obviously! Right, 'night, love!"
Roy misses the entire signature challenge of the new episode thinking about that.
my poor father loves football more than life
(No, not the shitty American thing or even overshiny Premier league teams: real gritty grassroots "we grew the lads here and now we're in league 1" football where the stadium's only 6000 and you know everyone by name)
Alas poor man I long ago grew out of even heading along to read my book in the stands. My sisters and my fiancé share a WhatsApp with him to discuss it and he has just about accepted that our relationship will continue bereft of the knowledge of his beloveds' recent goal difference.
One day probably this year I am going to demand he answer a host of stupid specific questions about (I'm sorry, Premier League) football and then it is going to be used for evil.
On the one hand this sudden surge of interest will probably contribute to a searing analysis of the childhood impact with an absent alcoholic abuser as a dad, plus the crippling masculinity that comes with young dumb boys shooting to stardom with their whole families on their shoulder.
But mostly (poor poor man) this will be used to facilitate torrid quantities of (FOOTBALL WORLD ACCURATE) literary gay boning.