are we gonna talk about the two characters to clock zava's fucked up behavior (jamie and rebecca) also being the two characters to have experienced abuse from charismatic and popular men in the past
you know what, no, i'm not done talking about this. jamie isn't 'dealing with the fact hes not number one anymore/hes not the star'. he literally already dealt with that in SEASON TWO!!!! sure he was still his arrogant prick self but it was in a fun, teasing way meant to make the team and the audience laugh, that was the whole point of The Signal, so Jamie would know he could turn up being a prick!! because he already KNEW he wasn't the star on the team, Roy's whole problem with Jamie when he became a coach was that JAMIE WAS TOO MUCH OF A TEAM PLAYER.
i swear i'm so sick of seeing people act like jamie is just throwing a fit over nothing, he's not worried from a selfish concern (although he has every right to be pissed about Zava stealing his goal, i saw someone else say that Roy would have headbutted the FUCK out of someone for that and they're right and they should say it), but the point is that jamie's biggest concern is that the team, HIS team, the goofy touchy feely himbo team that's anti-toxic masculinity THAT TEAM is regressing. they're not listening to Ted or Beard or Roy, they're just getting on the field and giving Zava the ball and that's not what team sports are about. especially not with a self-centered borderline narcissist like Zava.
also jamie's looking at this from the other side now. he used to be a bully/asshole star player. he was sent back to man city, did some soul searching and growing as a person and as a player and PROVED himself to have changed for the better. he didn't just apologize and go back to acting like a dick, no, he woke up and realized it wasn't ok for him to act like that. so now he's fucking BAFFLED why it's ok for Zava to act like this. Zava isn't an aggressive bully the way Jamie was, but Zava's tell is in his body language. he shakes off Dani and the teams congratulations, stepping infront of and above all of the rest of the team to take all of the crowds cheering for himself and to block the view of the team, he steps in front of ted to block the teams view of their fucking coach, because to Zava, *he* is the only thing that matters. to zava, he is nothing short of the sun and/or god, and jamie is the only one wearing sunglasses and not being blinded by it, and is the only one looking around like 'wtf why is everyone drinking this dickheads kool-aid please get a grip'
Can’t remember if I posted this before. Its Jamie angry that Ted waited until the last minute to announce he was leaving. Was…he wasn’t abandoning them, that were dramatic Jamie, jesus.
“You told me that I was so sure I was one in a million that I forgot that on the pitch I’m just one in eleven. But the promise you made was that if I trusted those other 10. If I had their back, and they had mine, that if we held each other…one in a million would look like nothing.
And to do that, I had to trust you, and Beard, Nate and Roy, Rebecca Welton and Leslie Higgins and Renée the groundskeeper.
And I did that. Even though trusting someone else with anything, let alone everything, was harder for me than anyone else on this team. Because they learned to do it when they were young and it was easy and it was natural.
When I was being taught the exact opposite thing, at that same age, so I had to unlearn it and learn something new. Just on the hope I’d be able to catch up.
And I did that while Roy was on national telly saying he hoped I’d die, like that was supposed to be a revelation? Supposed to be something new like I hadn’t heard it three times a week, and an extra time on holiday Sundays? Growing up.
You wanted him back, and that was your prerogative, and I agreed it was a good idea. For the team. For everyone but me, honestly. Cause that’s what you told me I had to do, forget about meself. Put everyone and everything else first. Like that was new, too.
And I was learning it while the four of you were in the office saying that I was a diva and a fragile little bitch. While making jokes after I pointed out that you were the ones who had all invested in us being a team that supported each other, that you had sold me on that too. And then threw it away with the promise of something else. Something better.
I weren’t even saying it about meself! By that point I had learned. I was talking about the team as a whole. Because it turns out you were right, when we had each others backs, it was better. But everyone else had stopped. They didn’t even have their own backs, giving it all to Zava, with me trying to cover everyone else.
Not just first team, like 10* wasn’t hard enough. But everyone. Cause you shunted Colin off to the side like he were nothing. And I wouldn’t leave Jack and Declan and Jeff to fend for themselves. No one in this room alone, right coach? It’s what you said after I were already gone. So maybe you didn’t ever mean it to include me.
Good thing that at least by then I’d learned that trusting means people can still fuck up. That it means you just know they’ll find their way again. So I kept doing what was right, regardless of the fact that you didn’t care about what were right nomore. No way you could and also had given up thinking it wasn’t about the wins and losses.
Didn’t help that even as he called me names, not the fun kind where we say Colin is a menace on the road, but the kind you want to give someone you think would make the world a better off place if they died, that Roy was the only one who heard what I said. Made the jokes, sure, but then actually listened.
Richmond only got through Zava doing exactly what he were always going to do because Roy decided to diversify your strategy. To invest in making sure that anyone who wanted to still grow as a player, despite the official party line being to give fucking Zava your all, could actually develop instead of stagnate.
The real fucking joke is that I were the only one who wanted that. Because I never, even when I was the prickiest prick to ever prick, gave anything less than my absolute best. Me, the person you spent that same time talking down to and about to each other and ignoring that even at my worst? I was never that fucking cruel.
I was the only player who had taken every word you ever said to heart. Because it was important. It changed fucking everything for me. And so I put me head down and did the fucking work. So that when Zava fucked everyone over -as he absolutely did because he told the whole world over and over exactly who he was- we’d at least be no worse off than when I first came here on loan.
And Roy was the only coach who did the same fucking thing. Who took what you said and let it change him. For the better. He was the only one who saw, and cared, about the fucking club.
He fucking hated me and still saw that I was trying to be what we needed here. Despite no one else remembering what we’d built. Together. Despite no one else caring that I was drowning right in front of you just trying to keep us afloat. Just trying to make sure there was something to even come back to once Zava left us high and dry.
The person here who had the most right to enjoy me spiraling was the only one to notice it at all. Then did something about it! And I know it were only because he cared about the club, not me, but I cared about it too. More than I cared about meself. So we finally had something to agree on.”
Jamie had laughed bitterly several times over by then. But none so dark and full of self hatred as the one he couldn’t hold back at the thought of Roy and him only agreeing that Jamie’s worth was solely his ability to take hit after hit in the name of Richmond.
“I were dumb enough to think that being one of eleven meant sharing the burden as well as the benefit. Didn’t I? Got out of practice for having to carry it all. Got lazy. Got complacent. Forgot that I shouldn’t pass to someone who hadn’t even attempted to score in months. Made us both look like fools when they just turned their head looking for Zava to make the play for them.”
Ted had been letting him rant for a good long while without attempting to interrupt him again. But here he was trying to do it now, but Jamie barreled on anyway. They hadn’t cared about his thoughts or feelings in a long time. Maybe it were his bone deep prickishness. But he needed to pretend like it didn’t hurt his heart to be ignoring theirs now.
“I ain’t finished, coach. Cause like I said. Roy hated me and still agreed to spend almost all day, every day, by me side. Helping me become a better player.
We both fucking gave up having a life outside of Richmond. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Think he would too.
You more than anyone else has seen my dad in action. Beard sees it more clearly, since my dad and his mates tracked him down to beat him for daring to stop him. And Roy knows it more viscerally because he got to see the reality of that fucking man trying to shape a child into …
So the people who never bothered to pretend to like me or treat me much like a full human being? They were there when I needed someone. While you, the person who told me to trust? Walked away over and over.
I’m not your son, you ain’t my da’, and you going back to America was inevitable. But instead of telling us that it was happening, instead of trusting us to manage ourselves, you decided to do it stealthy and secret. That’s the part that I will have to dig deep to figure out how to forgive. Because I want to, I don’t want to be angry at you, but you told me to untie every safety net I ever created for myself. And you’re the one dropping me from the top of the tower.”
*says 10 here because he did have Zava’s back even if the prick didn’t deserve it
Something bothering me after s3.e4. Zava's right, a lot. The first thing the guy says is that gender is a social construct! Hell yeah!
We all expected to hate him, expected him to be a Jaimie s1, and then he barges in to the scene saying all this stuff that we agree with. This episode where he talks about how we should name ourselves feels a bit "yes, king."
Except that it's not.
Zava does not ask Van Damme why he's Zoreaux because he wants Van Damme to look deeper, he does it because he was corrected by Van Damme on his name. Zava was wrong, and rather than admit that and move on Zava constructed a narrative in which he was right by using ideology that we already agree with.
It's a distraction technique. It's a massively toxic trait that is most often used by narcissists. It becomes impossible to argue with someone doing this, because you agree fundamentally with what they're saying, and the moment that you do you've fallen into a trap where the narcissist does not have to change their behavior or recognize their wrongs.
This particular situation is a small one, but it hints at something much bigger. The fact that Zava couldn't admit he was wrong over a more minor thing is a big red flag to me. Zava said what he said to protect his hero/idol status, and because he is the kind of man that cannot admit to his mistakes.
This also isn't the first time. His introduction is him sitting at Rebecca's desk. Which is clearly very creepy, but when he's called to answer to why he's there he distracts us by saying "gender is a construct." When he first speaks to Ted he simultaneously says the things all coaches want to hear and what he really means. "I am an empty vessel filled with gold. I am a rock, mold me." He's claiming he'll listen to Ted, but also very clearly saying that he will do what he wants in the end. He simultaneously says Will is the most important person and insults him by saying he's 11. We're used to himbo characters and seeing the best in people, but that just makes it all the easier to be taken in.
The writers are clearly using Zava to illustrate a new type of toxic male character we haven't yet seen on the show as of yet. And they're simultaneously demonstrating just how convincing narcissists are. They're so easy to like because they say the right things. Many of the fans of the show like Zava, and that's on purpose.
And the writers have also already told us exactly what Zava's going to do.
When Zava is first mentioned, Rebecca and Higgins talk about how he switches teams constantly. Now that we know Zava's character it's easy to connect the dots as to why that is. The moment people on the team wise up to who Zava actually is and stop hero worshiping him is the moment Zava skips town. He doesn't care what kind of situation that leaves his team in, because he's only ever been on a team of 1.
So what we'll see is that Zava will continue to use progressive words to prove himself right while being steadily more wrong and offensive. At some point that will cross a line where the team can no longer ignore it, and it will break the illusion of what Zava's been doing the whole time for both the team and the audience. Zava will immediately leave Richmond. And bc this is a tv show it will be at a moment where Richmond needs him the most.
Jamie Tartt is hard of hearing due to a few too many knocks to the head when he was growing up. He doesn’t realize this until coming back to Richmond after LCA, where he doesn’t just have to navigate becoming a better person, but accepting that needing accommodations isn’t soft. This journey follows from childhood, then all through canon up until the end of season 3.
In this chapter, Zava comes to Richmond and Jamie fucking hates his guts. He doesn’t feel comfortable with Zava in the locker room, so he finds connection to himself and others outside of it, through the BSL classes he’s taking and then through Roy offering to coach him. Him! Once Zava is gone, Jamie finds himself flourishing, finding confidence and contentedness in himself.
AKA: HoH!Jamie Tartt canon compliant rewrite AU
On ao3.
Ships: RoyJamieKeeley (background, end-game)
Warnings: abuse of an adult child, referenced child abuse, period accurate sexism and homophobia, ableism (also internalized), warped negative self image, anxiety, disassociation, exclusion, media leak
~~
Chapter 5: I just Need a Sign
Break is good. Amazing even. He takes mummy and Simon holiday to Italy, very pointedly doesn’t go to a new therapist, finds a few new routes for his daily jogs, hangs out with some of the lads, doesn’t hear from dad at all, goes shopping for clothes that are even more him than he allowed himself to wear before, finds out his hearing isn’t deteriorating further, and begins to learn BSL.
It’s all just…pleasant. Jamie almost doesn’t know how to feel about that. Compared to last year, the bar was low, seeing as he spend the whole break stressed and trying to hide from his dad, before he cracked and ran away to go on LCA, but it’s still so much better that Jamie almost doesn’t trust it.
As far as life has gone, Jamie knows that periods like these never last for him. So he is waiting for the other shoe to drop and trying to make the most of it in the meantime.
He likes learning BSL. It took a moment, before he got used to the finger movements, but now that it has stopped hurting his brain to be so conscious of his hands, it’s fun. Jamie has always been an gesticulate person – something his dad hated, which is why he tucks his hands in his shirt so often – but here, that behavior is encouraged. It feels strangely thrilling to embrace it. Almost like he’s rebelling, but instead of blowing his own life up, he’s doing something fun. It’s much more fulfilling than LCA ever was.
It’s important to him to learn, so he practices a lot. And soon he’s gotten the BSL alphabet down… which would probably be more useful if Jamie were any good at spelling, which he ain’t. He’s making it work though, but he’s glad when they get more into the grammar and words of things.
The class itself are also aces. They all totally know who he is, but take his excuse that he’s learning in case there are fans with hearing loss at face value and don’t question it more.
Jamie can’t deny he’s grateful for that. One of the major reasons he’s doing this, is to get more comfortable with being hard of hearing. If they’d started questioning him the second he came in, he would have clammed up and left and probably never tried again. Though, he shouldn’t be surprised that everyone is cool, Keeley is the one that found the place after all.
However, sometimes he wonders how these people would react if he let them in on the fact that he is hard of hearing. But it stays to wondering. As much as he likes his classmates, he doesn’t know them all that well yet. What he does know, is that a lot of nice people have no issue selling stories about him to the press for a quick buck. It sucks, but it’s true.
He nearly outs himself when Chris gets her hearing aids and is complaining about the headache she got, barely managing to stop himself before commiserating with her. ‘Cause those hearing aids headaches fucking suck, man.
With the it being the off season, Jamie hasn’t worn his hearing aids much. He only wears them around the house or when hanging at the houses of one of the lads. He don’t wanna get spotted with them in public, only sometimes wears them as fake earphones when running, but he’s always afraid he’ll get papped and people will try to find his outfits – which is understandable, his outfits are killer – and figure out that to get these premium earphones he’s wearing, you gotta see a doctor.
If he’s honest, that part sucks.
Now that they’re off from training, they don’t just go to clubs or play FIFA, sometimes they go on shopping trips or hiking or once to a theme park. It’s fun. Hanging out. Jamie loves it.
But when they’re out, Jamie gets too paranoid to wear his hearing aids. Most of the times, the others are great ‘bout it, making sure he’s up to speed with it all, but in the chaos, a lot gets lost and hearing stuff in hindsight is never as fun. He makes do and it’s just a minor thing, but he can’t deny that it bums him out sometimes. That he wishes he would just get it over with and not give a fuck if the world knows… but he’s not there yet.
He just feels weird ‘bout it, y’know. ‘Cause when he’s with the lads, he’ll feel out of the loop and like he’s missin’ stuff, but then he’ll talk to some of the people in his BSL class, who have more hearing loss, than Jamie or the person they’re learning for has more hearing loss than Jamie, and he’ll feel silly for even thinking he has a right to claim the label at all.
It’s dead confusing, innit? And the thought of having to get in front of reporters and be a spokesperson ‘bout it leaves him terrified. He ain’t good wi’ words. He’ll fuck it up for sure and then where will everyone be? They’ll all hate him.
So, the hearing aids stay home and his whole process with it stays private and hidden away. He tries his best with the lads when he can and doesn’t say a word at BSL class.
No one knows he’s taking them – except for Keeley, and probably Roy since they’re dating and all – and he likes it that way. It’s personal. Everyone was there when he found out he had hearing loss. He had to be fucking told. By Ted. It was embarrassing. Jamie doesn’t like feeling so exposed. Just like he didn’t want the hearing aids, because then it would be a thing.
He has accepted it’s a thing now, but to say he’s taking BSL classes will make it into more a thing. The others will want to be supportive and learn too and then Jamie will feel awkward, because it’s not like he needs BSL. He’s not doing it for himself.
… Though maybe he is doing it for himself. He doesn’t know really. It’s a bit of a mess. And thus, no talking to the lads about it and not letting the press get a wind of his hearing aids.
Still, all the other stuff is great and Jamie enjoys his break. He just tells himself that the minor discomforts are the other shoe, that this is it and he needs to stop worrying about it. The endeavor is only mildly successful, but he pats himself on the back for the attempt. See, he don’t need another therapist.
However, he’s glad to get back to training and have his hearing aids back in more often. To hear the lads as they run drills and fuck about on the pitch. Makes him feel more confident.
Unfortunately, as the season starts, everyone thinks Richmond is going to finish last and get relegated once more by the end. After they clawed themselves back up, no believes in them. No one thinks they can keep true to their ambitions and success of the previous season.
This has to be the other shoe, Jamie thinks, trying to salvage the situation with a “We’re not gonna get relegated, ‘cause we’re together and together, we got me,” but it’s not entirely helpful. The lads are still down and out and even Paddington Bear doesn’t believe in them. That’s truly a new low. This has to be the other shoe.
However, Ted is Ted and takes them on a trip to the sewers where it’s all poopeh, but in a way that makes sense to them. They get better. The feeling stays. It’s not the other shoe.
Isaac tells him that Roy and Keeley have broken up and all the ways this can impact Richmond, as well as these two people he cares about, swirl around his head. This isn’t good. This is bad. This must be the other shoe, something Jamie felt all break, but couldn’t know until now.
Jamie doesn’t entirely believe Isaac, but has to know anyway. Not because he wants to try and win Keeley back or something – even though he still loves her – but because they seemed so happy together on that couch under the princess blanket and, yeah, it hurt that Keeley moved on and that it was with Roy, that they had each other and Jamie had neither. But they’d been there for him together and he wants to see them happy again, because that was better than seeing both of them so sad.
Keeley is more likely to talk to him, but he knows Keeley has people, while Roy is just like Jamie. He won’t talk to anyone ‘bout this shit. Besides, Jamie knows how shit it is to get dumped by Keeley. Roy can use the understanding.
Or not, ‘cause Roy is a giant twat and the biggest idiot Jamie has ever met, because who the fuck breaks up with Keeley Jones? And who the fuck doesn’t accept a hug? Jamie loves hugs and mummy says he’s aces at them, so there.
And then Roy has the nerve to nearly kill him when he didn’t even say nothing? Rude! Definitely the other shoe.
But then there is Trent Crimm with his book and Roy can be mad at Trent instead of Jamie. While, the break up doesn’t seem to effect owt at Richmond, since Keeley has her own company now and Roy has always been growly and angry.
Still the book could prove to be a problem. Jamie’s hand shake a little and puts them under his shirt as he goes to corner Trent. Roy ordered all of them not to say shit with the man around and Jamie ain’t stupid enough to not listen to that, but he’s gotta be sure of something first.
“Oh, Jamie, hi,” Trent greets him, startling as he nearly runs into him, which is fair enough, Jamie is a bit of a creeper, waiting outside the office after everyone’s gone and shit.
“Hi,” he greets back, debating his words for a moment, before he asks: “That book you’re writing, yeah. Is it like an expose thing? Like does everythin’ you see go in there?”
“I will try to give a most accurate account, but it is a sports biography of a season and a club, not a one person tell-all,” Trent explains. “I’ll put in all the relevant bits, but nothing needs to go in. If you want me to leave certain things out, I’m more than willing. I’m allowed here as a courtesy. This book is not meant to tear anyone down. Is there anything you would like me to keep out of the book?”
Jamie hesitates for a moment, before answering. Trent did write about Ted’s panic attacks, but he had to from The Independent. He’s his own agent now. Jamie might not be the brightest, but he knows those two things are different. Like him as himself and him as a brand ambassador are not allowed to say the same thing, you get me?
“And you can’t tell anyone?” he checks, just to be sure.
“Well, I mean I could, but I won’t. You have my word,” Trent assures him, which isn’t really that assuring if he’s honest. “I’m sorry, is this something personal or bad? Should I be worried?”
“No, no, nowt like tha’, I’m just-” Jamie doesn’t really know what to do here. Either he tells Trent and hopes he doesn’t tell, or resigns himself to keeping his hearing loss hidden this secret, which ain’t exactly gonna work with them needing to work their asses of to stay in the Prem and prove all these fuckers that put them last wrong. “I’m hard of hearing,” he ends up saying, just ripping the band aid off. It doesn’t feel as strange to say it anymore. It feels a little like when he were about to commiserate with Chris, before he caught himself. It’s feeling normal now. Mummy and Dr. Sharon would be very proud, he figures.
Trent’s brow goes up and he pulls an expression that means he’s surprised and processing and trying very hard not to say something rude on accident while he does.
Jamie never really knows what to do with that, so he finds himself explaining: “I only figured it out last year- well, Ted did, ‘cause I couldn’t ‘ear all the coaches and stuff, y’know. It’s mild in me left ear and moderate in me right, so it’s nowt too bad, but I do got hearing aids that I wear ‘round the club. So you were gonna see them and figure it out anyway.”
Thankfully, Trent’s job is processing things and he remembers why they’re having this conversation in the first place. “You do not have to explain,” he tells Jamie. “I won’t put it into the book. That is your personal medical information, I do not like sharing such things against a person’s permission. It’s why I left The Independent to begin with.”
“Oh, uhm, mint,” Jamie says, awkwardly, glad to have put this behind him, but not expecting it to be so easy. “Cheers, mate,” he adds, before quickly walking away. He’s not talking more with Trent when Roy is able to fucking smell that someone didn’t listen. But he is glad he didn’t listen for a bit. It would suck if he had to worry ‘bout it for the whole season.
So there is no other shoe with Trent and not after him either.
Not until Zava, that is.
Zava is definitely the other shoe. Jamie had been justified the whole break in thinking it was going too well, he knows it from the first time the man tours the club and all he can see is a player dad would love. A player Jamie had tried to be. I mean, he tries to steal Jamie’s magnet for fuck’s sake. That’s his for a reason. Zava don’t need his own special fucking magnet. It sets his fucking teeth on edge.
He knows that it’s hypocritical – thank you, Beard – but he also knows he’s right. He knows that because he’s hypocritical, because he was Zava.
Unlike Zava, though, Jamie weren’t fueled by the success of years and a cult-like following behind him. Yeah, he’d been egotistical, arrogant and mean, but it had come from a place of fear. A bravado to cover all the places he’s been hurt before.
There is none of that in Zava. He cares only about himself and he’s going to fuck this all up. He’s not going to buy into Ted’s way of running things and they cannot afford to fuck up their locker room with the way this season started. They need to be balanced and in tune, and Jamie can already feel the culture of the past year slipping through his fingers.
A part of him wonders if it’s selfish. If it is just because he knows Zava is better and not being the best anymore kills him. But he shakes that thought off pretty quickly. Jamie knows he’s good, the best even maybe, but he doesn’t carry the team and he knows it. Sam is mint when it comes to shaking defenders and Dani takes better penalty kicks than him. Jamie might have the better ball control and split second decision making, but that don’t mean anything if there’s no one to pass to. He’s internalized that one of eleven shit. He’s not that person anymore. It’s still a bit of a blow of course, but Jamie shared the pitch with Roy Kent. He knows that he’s not the permanent end-all-be-all of footie. And it’s not his place on the pitch that feels threatened.
Zava makes Jamie uncomfortable. He’s a little like Roy at the start of the one season they played together, walking around like he expects his ring to be kissed. Maybe a bit like Jamie too; arrogant, expecting to be catered too, because he’s the player send to save them from relegation. But unlike them, Zava isn’t shunned for acting like that. If anything, it’s rewarded.
That fucking stings.
Jamie hates him. He hates that Zava gets to hog the ball and score all the goals, that the strategy is get the ball to Zava in a fucked up mirror of get the ball to Jamie, and he especially hates that Zava is loved for it, praised for it, accepted for it.
He’s not as much of a prick about it as Jamie had been, but he definitely takes every chance to overshadow the others, for Jamie specifically, he seems to go out of his way. Yet it does not matter. Zava is easily a part of Richmond without having to try.
Meanwhile, Jamie has had to claw his way back into this place and grovel to earn his forgiveness. He has had to fully transform who he was – and yeah, he’s better for it, but that doesn’t change how it stings – to be accepted as a Greyhound. Like it never mattered, unless it were him. Like there is something broken about him that no one else had.
It’s been a while since Jamie has felt it, but he cannot shake the thought that there is a rot inside his chest that cannot be cured. Jamie isn’t like everyone else, he is unfixable.
And it doesn’t help that he’s shucked his hearing aids, even at Richmond now. He just don’t trust Zava with the knowledge. He already feels threatened enough by the other man and the idea of letting him in on this vulnerability makes his skin crawl. It had from the start. So he hasn’t worn his hearing aids since Zava toured the place.
No one has commented on it yet.
Jamie pretends that doesn’t hurt either.
With Zava the locker room has gone to shit anyway, not like he’s missin’ out on owt important, he tells himself. And he don’t exactly have to try with the strategy, since it’s just get the ball to Zava.
Still, it does suck and it does feel lonely. He feels more like himself at his BSL class at this point, and he doesn’t necessarily try to befriend them, just tries be friendly with them. ‘Cause if they’re friends, they’re more likely to pick up on the fact that Jamie is hard of hearing and he can’t have that. But it’s nice to have them anyway. Makes him feel less lonely to hear the others talk about how shit is, to feel isolated ‘cause you don’t always hear everything.
Right now, he’s feeling pretty isolated too, sitting at the back of Ola’s instead of mingling with the lads, because he doesn’t want to deal with missing half or asking them to repeat themselves and missing everything anyway. And he could just pull out his hearing aids and try, even if in the chaos they don’t pick up all the stuff either, but he just knows that Zava will make an appearance at some point, even if the prick’s too self absorbed to be here from the start with everyone and he doesn’t want to deal with that.
Roy suddenly sits down next to him. They’ve been more friendly since Wembley, but haven’t spoken much outside the boot room talk about his and Keeley’s break up. They’re more co-existing really. And Jamie truly doesn’t wanna deal with whatever Roy wants to peddle now.
“What the fuck do you want?” he says in lieu of a greeting, hoping the prick-ish attitude is enough to ward Roy off like it used to when they were both players.
No such luck. Roy continues sitting there and says: “You frowning, while we’re on a win streak? That’s a bad look,” which is just dead rude to be honest.
“You frowned your whole career!”
“No. I never smiled. That’s different.”
Before Jamie can point out that Roy is a fucking hypocrite and should fuck off and leave Jamie alone, the door opens and Zava comes in. Fucking Zava, who is greeted by cheers and fist bumps. Who is taken into the fold of the lads, no questions asked. Jamie scoffs at the scene: “For fuck’s sake.” Of course Roy notices, not like Jamie hid his dislike for Zava, even if no one else seems to realize he hates the man. In fact, Jamie makes is more obvious by scowling: “There he is, god’s gift to those who have everythin’.”
Though, Roy is a fucking arsehole, because he just agrees with him: “Best player on the team.”
“Fuck off,” Jamie says, because he can’t deal with this shit right now. He already feels bad enough without Roy fucking there.
“It’s true,” Roy tells him, like Jamie didn’t fucking know that. But he makes up for a little with his next words. “You used to be the best, now you’re not. It happens.”
“You thought I was the best?” Jamie asks, not even embarrassed by how pleased the praise from Roy Fucking Kent makes him, because fucking ‘ell, he has craved that approval since he were a lad.
“I mean, yeah,” Roy says, “you still could be, if you weren’t such a pre-Madonna.”
“Did you just call me a pre-Madonna?” Jamie checks, unsure if it’s his ears or if Roy just actually said those words. He truly hates that he can’t tell. And he’s a little insulted, because whatever Roy said, he did mean prima donna, which is rude. Jamie is rightfully ticked off and maybe a bit pissy about it, but he’s not doing his dramatic prick tantrums that he used to do. He’s not!
“Yeah,” Roy confirms that this time Jamie did hear him correctly and he did, in fact, say pre-Madonna.
“It’s prima donna,” Jamie informs him, not entirely mad at being on this side of the equation for once. “Who the fuck says pre-Madonna? What the fuck does tha’ even mean?”
Roy’s explanation for that is absolute dog shit and Jamie has to remind him that Tina Turner and Stevie Nicks existed, which Roy should fucking know, ‘cause he’s ancient enough to have been around for all of human history, so he was definitely around for their careers.
“Fuck you,” Roy cuts him off, getting them back on track: “Point is, he’s the best player on the team. And right now, all you gotta do is try and keep up with him.”
Anger surges at the reminder that Zava is better and Jamie is the one that has to keep up. He hates that. He really fucking hates that. Jamie Tartt is the best player on the team he’s on. That’s how it has always is and how it will be for a long fucking time if Jamie has a say about it. “Fuck that,” he spits. “I don’t wanna just keep up with ‘im, I wanna be better than ‘im.”
They both sigh after the outburst, just sitting with the frustration Jamie feels and Roy’s inability to use words. Jamie is glad it’s Roy that is here, though. He doesn’t think he can handle trying to keep up with one of Ted’s speeches in these conditions. At least Roy talks in a register Jamie can hear and uses clear language, so he can parse it out in the general buzz of Ola’s.
After a beat, Roy breaks the silence: “I could train you.” Jamie gives him wide eyes, surely he must have heard that wrong, but then Roy doesn’t fade like an illusion and his next words are angrier and easier to hear. “But only if you fucking mean it!”
Roy just handed Jamie salvation.
He’s sick and tired of running after Zava, of getting his goals stolen and his team pulled away from him, right in front of his nose. If he can just be the best, if he can just be perfect, then they’ll see him again. They’ll love him again. He can get them back from Zava.
“Yeah,” he breathes, eagerly adding: “I do mean it.” Roy Kent thinks he can be better than Zava, Roy Kent wants to train him. No one is getting Jamie to let go of that, not while he’s still breathing. “When do we start?”
As it turns out, when is right fucking now and Roy is a mean coach, who immediately has all sort of rules and is also fucking pranking Jamie by telling him they’re starting at 4:00 fucking AM. Who the fuck gets up to train at that time? It’s still dark out, you can’t even see nothing.
Though, Roy wasn’t joking about that part, actually banging on Jamie’s door at 4:00 AM to force him to run, threatening to start flicking his balls if he doesn’t get out there. And then the training is brutal. Jamie deserves better than to vomit on the Richmond green, mummy would definitely agree.
However, this is to make him better. Actually better. Not punishing him for things and making him do headers until he has a goose egg on his head or running him ragged until he collapses. Roy trains him in a way that spaces out training and works on the bits that matter. Jamie is improving, he can tell. And that means the world to him.
Roy is also pretty fucking mint. He has always looked up to the man and, since getting to know him better, he likes the person too, but he never thought they’d get close. Never thought they’d be friends. Roy would probably still deny it, but he listens to Jamie blabber on and actually indulges his dumb arguments.
Maybe indulge is the wrong word, though. Roy is actually a pretty opinionated person, who seems unable to stop himself from arguing back when he thinks that Jamie said something stupid. This is naturally only a reason for Jamie to start finding more wild shit to throw out there, just to push Roy’s buttons and get a reaction. He even puts his hearing aids in again, so he can hear Roy’s argument better and come up with good rebuttals. I mean, they’re out there at 4:00 AM, no pap is following them at hour.
He always takes them out when the sun starts to rise and people start to come onto the streets, but Roy never says shit about it. Jamie likes that about Roy; the fact that his business is his business and he lets you keep yours too. They’ll argue about dumb shit, not have deep heart to hearts.
It’s probably better for their friendship anyway. Jamie doesn’t think Roy cares too much to hear about Jamie’s shit. He’s just a good person that steps up when someone needs it. When Jamie needs it. He hugged him at Wembley and is training him now, because he saw that Jamie needs it. Not because it is Jamie specifically. Jamie is more than content to take what he can get and not push Roy away by trying to be vulnerable with the coach.
This changes a few weeks into their arrangement.
“Training’s fucking canceled,” Roy barks in his face at 4:00 AM after Jamie has already opened the door and gotten outside, fully dressed too.
“Why the fuck did you come all the way ‘ere to tell me tha’?” he questions, rubbing his tired eyes. BSL class had been yesterday, so he didn’t get his full night rest like he did on other nights. He still gets up at 4:00 AM, ‘cause this is important to him, but if Roy was going to cancel, why couldn’t he have texted yesterday?
“Because I’m only canceling it now,” Roy growls, turning around and stomping off down the path.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Jamie calls out, chasing after him and blocking his path. If he’s honest, he would love to just go to bed, because he is tired, but something is off about Roy just canceling like this. “Why are you canceling?” he demands. Then, because being angry with Roy always made him brave, he asks: “Is it your knee?”
“It’s not my fucking knee,” Roy scowls. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am!” Jamie cries, because what the fuck? He’s never taken anything more serious and he’s done everything in his power to prove it to Roy. I mean, he’s here right now wearing a stupid headlamp, ain’t he? Roy can’t just say that Jamie ain’t taking this seriously. He can’t just quit. This is all he has.
“No, you’re fucking not,” Roy says, poking him in the chest with his finger as he does. “Thursday evenings are the one evening I’m not fucking there and you don’t do shit. Without me to hold your little fucking hand, you can’t even go to fucking bed on time. You’re fucking yawning. I told you I’m not doing this when you can’t take it fucking seriously.”
“Fuck you!” Jamie scowls. “I’m doing everythin’ you fucking tell me to. I want this. I’m taking it seriously, but I also have a life, coach. Just like you. I got shit on Thursdays too. And it runs late.”
“You and your hook up is not a commitment,” Roy scoffs, clearly taking Jamie’s genuine reasoning for cheek.
“It’s not a hook up!” Jamie says. He hasn’t had hook up since LCA, too busy with the mess of his life and the mess in his head to chase it. It’s been alright actually. Jamie is aces with his hands too and he’s got great imagination, y’know?
“Sure.” Roy thinks he’s lying.
“It’s not,” Jamie insists, struggling whether he wants to let Roy know, especially when he’s being a wanker about this whole thing.
“Whatever,” Roy replies, sidestepping Jamie and moving to go further down the path, taking Jamie’s hope with him.
“I’m taking classes!”
The words ring out through the front garden, a last ditch desperate attempt to stop Roy from leaving. And it works. Roy stops, processes, then turns around slowly. When he speaks, the tone of his low voice is disbelieving, like he can’t believe Jamie chose that lie of all things when taking the piss. “You? Are taking a class?”
Jamie’s cheeks flush, but he juts out his jaw, daring Roy to say shit. “Yes. Me. I’m taking a class,” he says, a little hurt at Roy’s disbelief. He barely manages to bite back a comment about Keeley helping him pick it out, instead saying: “I’m trying to learn sign language, you prick. Fucking what off it?”
A small sense of satisfaction goes through Jamie when Roy’s face contorts with discomfort and guilt at his reply. Good. The wanker can learn to not be such a judgmental arsehole. “What?”
For a moment, Jamie considers interpreting Roy in bad faith, instead of working with the man’s lack of communication skills, but he doesn’t want to drive Roy away. He wants to train. So, he scuffs his foot on the ground and shrugs. “I only started this break. Not like I’m any good yet, yeah. Just- I don’t know. I thought it might be nice.”
“Do you- Is it-” Roy struggles for a moment, before spitting out: “Should we be learning too?”
Should we be learning too. Jamie freezes at the words, chest a twisting mess of emotions that leave him gaping at Roy. Roy, who just offered to learn sign language. For Jamie.
He’s been feeling so isolated and alone, but Roy is right there. Roy is offering to do something so big for him and Jamie kind of wants to cry, but not in a bad way. However, he doesn’t want to cry all over Roy again, so he swallows it down and chokes out: “Oh, uh, no, coach, it’s okay.”
Roy eyes him skeptically and checks: “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’m fine without it. Not like I can’t hear all of you’se or summat, y’know,” Jamie says. “I only have mild hearing loss. And like, moderate. But nowt severe or anythin’. I- I’m not doing it ‘cause of that.”
“And it’s not because your hearing aids are fucking bothering you or some shit?” Roy prods more, weirdly caring about the whole thing now that he has decided to believe Jamie.
Jamie knows Roy can be caring, he’s met Phoebe a coupla times and seen Roy with the lads, but it still knots up something inside him to have it directed at himself. He assures Roy: “No, they’re mint, swear down.”
“You haven’t been wearing them at training,” Roy grunts, clearly hating that he observed it, though it warms Jamie’s insides.
He plays with the hem of his shirt and admits: “Don’t want Zava to know. He just- I don’t know. I don’t like him, makes me feel right uncomfortable with his fucking cult shit. ‘Sides, not like the strategy is hard to follow. Just get the ball to Zava, right?”
Roy looks a little pained at the reminder of their current strategy, even if he’ll probably never say it, ‘cause complaining while on a win streak is a bad look or some shit. Roy also doesn’t know what to say. Not like any of them know for sure that Zava can be vouched for. And it’s Jamie’s medical business, he can choose not to share it with whoever he wants. After a beat too long, Roy just grunts: “If you ever miss shit, fucking come to me, yeah?”
“Ta, coach,” Jamie beams, the warmth inside him growing hotter. This is the Roy Kent, making sure Jamie is comfortable and part of it all. Little Jamie would shit his pants. Hell, adult Jamie is pretty close to it too. He’s becoming Roy’s friend. This is the best thing that has ever happened to him.
“So what the fuck have you learned at your sign language class?” Roy asks, deflecting from the fact that he did something nice, but also sounding genuine.
“Oh, uhm, mostly the alphabet, y’know. Good basis to ‘ave. And we’re doing grammar and basic shit. I asked to learn footie shit and like general introduction stuff, so I can chat with kids ‘bout it if they want,” he answers, excited to share now that someone knows. He’s proud of what he learned. Proud to be part of these people. Proud that he did something for himself and is trying to grow as a person. That he’s finding his own path.
“What the fuck do you need the alphabet for?” Roy asks.
“For when you don’t know the word or for names, you old fuck,” Jamie replies.
Roy thinks about that for a second, then he says: “That’s fucking shit when you have a long name.”
“You got sign names,” Jamie rolls his eyes. He already had one before coming to class, as did some of the others, who got them from family members. Jamie has one ‘cause he’s a celebrity. He’s a little sad he didn’t get to get one in class, but he does like the name he got.
“Sign names?” Roy repeats.
“Yeah, it’s like a combo of signs that makes up you. Can be words and letters, or just characteristics that are shown. Yours is fucking hilarious, mate,” Jamie tells him.
“What do you fucking mean, hilarious?” Roy demands.
“Well, it’s this,” Jamie says, as he shows Roy. He extends both hands downwards, pointing his index fingers and moving them back and forth, before placing those same two fingers over his eyebrows as if impersonating Roy’s perpetual scowl. “See, it’s football and then your eyebrows, you get it? ‘Cause you’re a grumpy old sod and everyone knows it.”
“Fuck off, no it’s not,” Roy scowls, eyebrows matching Jamie’s sign perfectly. “You’re taking the fucking piss.”
“No, I’m being serious. You should watch Sports Saturday with the BSL translator. Catrick is way easier to listen to when you don’t got to look at ‘im,” Jamie says cheerily.
“And what’s yours then? Also fucking stupid, I take it,” Roy sounds almost hopeful when he says it, which is too bad for him. Jamie’s sign name is mint.
He holds up his hand flat, then traces his other index finger from the top of his middle finger to the top of his pinky in a swooping motion, before moving the flat hand forward in a curving wiggling movement. As he does so, he explains: “It’s the J and then the sign for shark. See, it’s like a fin! ‘Cause I used to have the hair style when I started coming up and the song and stuff.”
Roy is quiet for a moment and Jamie worried he’s gone too far and it’s weird and he should have just let Roy walk away. Then Roy curses: “Fuck, yours is fucking better. Fucking shit.”
Jamie cracks a grin and teases: “Told ya,” a weight falling off his shoulders.
“Fuck off,” Roy scowls, then barks: “Now go fucking stretch.”
“I thought you canceled trainin’,” Jamie says, because he’s a button pusher at heart and Roy just got over himself, so he knows he’s in the clear to start pushing again.
“And now it’s not fucking canceled. Stretch!”
“Yes, coach,” Jamie complies, because he likes listening to Roy, despite always needing to needle him as he does it.
After that, it’s training as usual, until they’re halfway through their jog through the park when Roy suddenly speaks again. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything about the classes?”
“No one asks,” Jamie semi-lies. Because, yeah, no one did ask, but Jamie also is the kind of person who would just tell everyone this sort of stuff.
Roy also knows this, because he eyes him for a moment, before thankfully sticking with his ‘not my business’-policy and instead asks: “Who are you practicing with then?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” Jamie asks, going on the defensive because he can’t tell where Roy is going with this. And he has enough bad experiences to trust it.
“Seems like something you should be doing, is all,” Roy shrugs being a bit too casual about it.
“Yeah, probably,” Jamie agrees, voice slightly quieter too. He wants Roy to know he’s taking this serious too, that he’s committed and an adult. He’s no longer the child he was when Roy was his captain instead of his coach. So he offers: “I walk around my house signing stuff.”
Roy grunts and nods, quietly running for a beat, before he says: “You can practice with me if you want. Sign as you talk and shit. I won’t fucking understand it, but it’ll help.”
“Oh, uh, ta,” Jamie says, uncertainly signing thank you as he does, glancing at Roy as he does. Roy just watches, though, giving another one of his nods as he does, before focusing back on the route and asking Jamie about some inane thing, because he’s not subtle and absolutely looking for a bickering session.
After that, Jamie practices his signing with Roy, who never says something about it even if he doesn’t not acknowledge it either. He’s always just watching Jamie move. It’s a little weird, but a little nice too. He’s getting more comfortable signing in front of someone, which is nice.
It’s him and Roy against the world during those training sessions. They’re practically living in one another’s pockets and it’s the best. Jamie remembers Keeley complaining about how intense Roy is when they were dating, but he thinks it’s delightful. He’s always craved attention and care and Roy has it in spades and doesn’t even seem to notice how he’s funneling all his energy into Jamie.
He’s aware that this whole thing is in part so that Roy doesn’t have to think about the fact that Keeley is no longer there to fill up his time, but he’s not going to point it out or think about it too much. He doesn’t mind that he’s basically something for Roy to take his emotions out on. Roy cooks an absolutely mint breakfast spread, he’s not saying no to that.
And honestly, Jamie is glad for the distraction that Roy gives him too, especially with the Man City match coming closer and closer.
He still hasn’t heard from dad and he definitely thought he would, especially after the embarrassment that was their match against West Ham. He hates that Nate did that to them. That he’s so angry when most of the lads there have never done anything to him. He doesn’t wish Nate would just take it out on him anymore, but he does wish that Nate would realize what he is doing and come to his senses. But Jamie had to blow up his life to get there, so maybe that’s a false hope. Still, Nate is smarter than him, so maybe also not.
However, just because Nate is being a prick, doesn’t change that Richmond played like shit against West Ham and there should be angry messages in his phone from his dad. And there is not. The whole thing leaves him twitchy and he can only forget about it when Roy is making him do burpees until he pukes or argues with him about what the best color is (it’s pink, Roy doesn’t know what he’s on about. Black ain’t even a color, even if the arsehole refuses to believe Jamie when he tells him as much).
Jamie isn’t the only one effected by the upcoming match. After the humiliation that was the last match against Man City – and the proceeding locker room bullshit with dad, which Jamie is pointedly not thinking about and everyone is kindly not bringing up – they’re all nervous. Jamie can’t stand for it.
As much as he doesn’t want to think about the dad-side of it all, he can see the football clearly. Richmond is doing well (thanks to Zava, unfortunately), it’s not like they’re hopeless. They’ve all gotten so much better since the last time they stood across from Man City on the pitch.
He is waiting for Isaac to say something about it instead of being nervous, or Sam. Both of them are leaders on the team and he knows the other lads will respond well to them. And he knows that if it were not for fucking Zava, they would have already, instead of keeping quiet.
And he’s so relieved when they finally do with Isaac telling them all to get a good night’s rest and only play Animal Crossings. He’s right too, that shit is fucking soothing. Jamie nearly cries of relief at their captain speaking up again. He missed that.
Just like he has missed Sam’s kind optimism, because Sam speaks up too: “Well done, guys. You know, I think we’re really starting to turn our fortunes around.”
But then Jan Maas has to be Jan Maas about it and everyone agrees with him and it’s all negativity. Jamie hates it. He hates it so much. These people know Isaac and Sam, they know them. They’re their teammates, who are a part of this. Who root for them. Who are trying to fucking motivate them.
“Hey! Enough of tha’ negativity,” he cuts in, annoyed at everyone. “Yeah, City are great. They just are, but who the fuck cares? ‘Cause so are we. So stop acting like a bunch of little bunny rabbits. Let’s fucking do this, yeah?”
His words are about as welcomed as Isaac’s and Sam’s had been, which is even more frustrating. They have been killing it this season, just because they’re playing Man City don’t mean they got to let it get to them. They’re Richmond. Have some pride.
“Jamie is right.” A hand lands on his shoulder at the unexpected words. Words he would have loved to hear from anyone but fucking Zava. And he hates that the whole room falls hushed, so that he can hear every single fucking word of Zava’s speech clearly. “It’s as if he were Zava.”
“Get off me.” Jamie does not want Zava touching him. Zava let’s go, but it’s doesn’t change how everyone else is hanging onto Zava’s lips.
“Prophets believe in something. I do not just believe. I know in my heart, in my bones, in my well-defined delts, traps and glutes that there is no opponent this team cannot conquer,” Zava says, as if it is a rousing speech and not entirely egomaniacal.
“I literally just said that,” Jamie mutters, because he did. And Sam said something similar too and why the fuck couldn’t they just listen when it were them, eh?
Zava continues as oblivious to Jamie’s words as the others: “You will not win because of me. You will win because you work together. Because together... you can achieve anything.”
Jamie doesn’t trust those words, but the lads seem to have no qualms about it though, because they’re cheering loudly. “Manchester City is going down!”
At least they’re not depressed anymore, Jamie thinks, deciding he can finish his work out at home. He doesn’t like sticking around at Richmond right now. Not anymore. He misses how it was before Zava. He misses his friends. But he doesn’t know how to reach out to them.
Before Richmond, he has never really had friends. All his friendships went south in the past or he just kind of let them die. He doesn’t want to do that with Richmond, but he also doesn’t know how to stop it. Is it sad that the only friend he has right now, is Roy? Is it sad that it thrills him that Roy still shows up every morning and night to train with him, to talk with him and let him practice his BSL? He hopes not. He likes having Roy. He likes not being lonely.
After the last time he went to the coaches about Zava, he doesn’t try again. He knows their stance on the matter, no use in making it seem like he’s the prick. So, he doesn’t say anything about Zava’s strange speech to Roy that evening. He doesn’t want to think about Zava right now. Not when there is Roy arguing with him about musicals of all things. He wants to pretend Zava is not here for just a moment, let him have that.
… And the universe does.
Jamie truly doesn’t know what he did to have the universe be weirdly on his side, but in the worst way possible, because they next day they play Man City and Zava is not there. He’s not there and the loss is humiliating all over again.
Because of fucking Zava, who was never going to be counted on, who was never fucking Richmond, who Jamie warned people about, but no one listened. No one ever fucking listens to him.
Okay, deep breath, they have listened to you in the past about other stuff, don’t be dramatic, and, yeah, this sucks, but Zava retired. He’s gone now. You don’t have to deal with it anymore. This is a good thing. Or it will be a good thing, if the others are done grieving the loss of Zava’s fucking retirement. Jesus.
It’s like he fucking died instead of leaving them high and dry, before a big match. Jamie knows he can’t say shit after his LCA stint, but at least he got properly hated for it, instead of remembered like some sort of martyr.
Jamie tries to appreciate that they’re doing this depressive shit at the friendly in Amsterdam, instead of at an actual match. And he hopes that they’ll all cheer up sometime soon, because he wants to win this time. They’re back in the Prem now and Jamie Tartt always makes an entrance. And nothing says a big entrance like winning the whole thing first time ‘round.
He’s hopeful that they’ll recover, though. They never needed Zava and he can feel the team returning to how it used to be when Ted tells them they all have the night off. Everyone’s excited. A coach truly don’t say that unless they mean it.
“NOT FOR YOU, TARTT!”
Fuck.
It is Jamie’s right and nature to protest that, because honestly, what the fuck Roy? Even if he does follow after him. Ted’s the head gaffer, he makes the final call and he thinks they all need tonight off. If he wanted to, he can make a very good case about not listening to Roy. In any other club, this one on one attention he’s been getting from Roy and the extra training would have been frowned upon.
However, Richmond is not another club and they’re all too close to be strictly professional anyway. Plus, Jamie knows Keeley got a girlfriend and moved on, they text, y’know. He’s pretty sure she’s getting swept off her feet right now. If Roy needs it, Jamie wants to be there for him. After all, the training did start out with Roy being there for him, he can return the favor. That’s what friends do, right? And somehow, Jamie has found himself friends with Roy Kent.
The door that has been opened when Jamie told Roy about taking BSL classes, further opens tonight as Roy tells him about his granddad never getting to teach him how to ride a bike and Jamie tells him about the first time he visited the city.
They end up talking about so many different things as they ride their bikes, until the sun comes up and the batteries in Jamie’s hearing aids have died. It’s nice. Peaceful. Another fonder memory of the city he has to paste over the mess his dad has left behind. Maybe one day, he’ll have enough good memories of the city that he doesn’t even think about dad when he hears Amsterdam.
With Amsterdam and Zava behind them, Ted is moving Richmond into a new direction; total football. The same strategy Man City plays. Poetic in a way, he thinks, but he ain’t a poet, so what the fuck does he know.
Jamie sits in the meeting where Beard goes through the history, hearing aids back in his ears and a smile on his face as he grins and blows kisses when an older picture of him comes on the screen. He’s still not happy with who he was then, but the sight of him is no longer met with sneers from his teammates, but laughter, even if it’s a the sight of him from back when he were a prick, hair in a shark fin and his chest covered in Manchester blue.
It takes everyone a moment to get it – and Roy puts them through something horrible in an attempt to get the new strategy through to them. Little Jamie will never forgive him, the sadistic prick – but when they finally do, halfway through the match with Arsenal, it’s like magic. This is what footie is supposed to be. This is just plain fucking fun. It’s the best.
They don’t just apply it on the field either, but take it into the real world. Sam has been having a shit time of it, which makes all of them so angry, but they cannot fight everyone on twitter. However, they can come together and fix up Ola’s the best they can. What does this situation need and all that, y’know. The answer’s always going to be Richmond.
Everyone eats and dances and fixes things up as they’re laughing and having a good time. It’s warm and welcoming and Jamie feels like the last remainders of Zava’s presence have finally been exorcised and the lads are the lads again.
He doesn’t talk much with Ola, just says a quick hi, ‘cause not saying owt is also weird, but Jamie doesn’t seek the man out. While him and Sam are aces now, he can’t imagine that Ola heard many great things about him and he can’t bear to hear the man’s judgment, when he is so warm and welcoming.
Looking back now, he can realize how fucking jealous he had been of Sam when he were first loaned to Richmond. How much it angered him that Sam was soft and kind and had a father, who loved him. And he is probably slightly jealous still, but he’s mostly glad Sam has a good dad. That he got to grow up with love and support. But that doesn’t mean he knows how to hold himself in regards to it. So, he’s more than happy to let Sam and his dad have their space and do his own thing some distance away from them.
In his pocket, his phone remains empty of any message. He thought for certain that if Zava leaving, their Man City loss or their abysmal Ajax friendly hadn’t been enough to earn a tirade about Richmond’s playing, and Jamie’s specifically, then them playing total football against Arsenal would have. He can almost write the sneering texts that should be there, but they’re not.
He should be glad, should be relieved that dad finally knows how to stay the fuck away, but it just makes him nervous. Just leaves him to wonder when this streak will end. He still hasn’t gotten the punishment for punching dad at Wembley and he knows that dad hasn’t forgotten. It’ll come and it’ll be awful, Jamie just doesn’t know when.
The win streak they get on after their tactic switch is maybe the thing that keeps his dad away, which eases some of the nerves, but Jamie has carried unease like a friend for most of his life and it does not let go so easily.
While it is not dad reaching out, he feels almost vindicated in his belief that something would go wrong when the news of the hack hits. Almost. Because Keeley got hurt and it’s his fault and that squashes everything else. Fuck, he thought he deleted that fucking email.
Even though he’s sure Keeley hates him now, he still drags himself to her front door with lead in his shoes. Accountability is important and Jamie is a better person now. He can apologize when it matters and deal with the consequences of his actions. He loves Keeley, loves being her friend, loves getting to be near her and yeah, he also still loves her romantically, no matter how much he tries to let her go, because she broke up with him and he respects that. He’s gotten a few years of being allowed in her orbit and he appreciates every second of it. Apologizing to her is important to him, if she tells him to leave her the fuck alone now, it’ll suck, but he’ll do it. For her, he will.
Just because he can apologize, doesn’t mean he’s great at them. The whole bit about her and Roy dating to make him jealous definitely could be scrapped, but that is hindsight. And, more importantly, Keeley is happy with his apology, Keeley hugs him, Keeley invites him inside so they can watch movies and she can eat a bunch of ice cream.
He wishes the world weren’t so shit, he wishes he’d deleted that fucking email, he wishes so many things could be different, but they aren’t. Jamie knows a thing or two about accepting his mistakes, even if he fucking hates them. But he’s glad he didn’t make another mistake by not coming here, he’s glad he gets to comfort Keeley. He’s glad he didn’t fuck it all up.
The hack leak has another consequence to it and after a weird fucking week in the locker room between Colin and Isaac – and Isaac fucking flying into the stand to fight a homophobe – Colin comes out to all of them.
Jamie considers saying something about his own sexuality then, to let Colin know he’s not alone. The lads are all cool ‘bout it and he thinks most suspect him already with the way they’re all looking at him, but he stops himself short and just says: “I’m flattered.”
This is Colin’s moment and Jamie is still working on being open and vulnerable, and right now he doesn’t want to. With all the hanging out with Roy he’s been doing, it’s only going to be a matter of time before his little crush gets exposed and he’d like to keep Roy as a friend until then, ta. He’s just not ready.
But he is happy for Colin and the way he plays after he’s been accepted by everyone makes Jamie’s heart ache in a good way. Colin looks freer now. Like he’s lost a heavy load he’s been carrying. Jamie wonders how that feels, a part of him aches to find out, but the larger part of him is too nervous. Too twitchy.
His phone is still empty.
International break is awesome. I mean, Jamie’s getting his first cap for England, that’s bonkers, but in the best way. Jamie’s alight with nerves and excitement, eagerly drinking it all in.
However, it’s also a lot and when he gets the invite from Phoebe to Uncle’s Day, he doesn’t hesitate to jump on it. Roy has meant safety to him since he were a lad and in the midst of all this chaos building up, he wants a small breather around Roy to come down a bit. Besides, there is no way this ain’t gonna be fucking hilarious.
He’s proven right in this assumption by getting to see Roy in a fucking party hat, while Phoebe calls him out on being Jamie’s – Jamie’s – best friend. “Well, you talk about him a lot,
and you spend every day together. And mummy said you took up BSL for him.”
Jamie’s neck nearly cracks with how fast he looks at Roy, the smug expression falling away for shocked surprise. “You learnin’ BSL?”
“Fuck off,” Roy pulls out his favorite phrase again, clearly wanting to drop it. Jamie is about to as well, but his face is stuck like this he thinks and before he gets it under control, Roy grits out: “It could be fucking useful, okay. And Phoebe can’t charge me a pound if she doesn’t know I’m swearing.”
“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe is outraged at getting scammed, even if she is the original scammer.
“Cheers, coach,” Jamie chokes out, attempting casual and likely failing miserably. Thankfully, Roy is equally as invested in getting away from this conversation and doesn’t call him out on it, just like Jamie isn’t calling out the fact that Roy is, at least partially, lying about why he’s learning BSL. He’s doing that shit for Jamie. The Roy Kent is learning BSL for him, even when Jamie told him he didn’t have to. Little Jamie would definitely shit his pants.
When the quite brilliant performance is behind them and they’ve eaten their cake, Phoebe and her mum are doing some sort of craft. Jamie’s not sure what, he would totally join them, but he has missed Roy, so he’s instead bothering him while he’s making dinner.
As he cooks, Roy naturally asks about training camp for England and how it’s going. Jamie answers: “It’s going well, just tiring. I mean, not the footie, I’m fucking killing it, ‘specially after all the shit you put me through, but the social aspect is a lot, you get me?”
“Are you not wearing your hearing aids again?” Roy frowns at him, eyeing the devices now sitting in his ears.
“Oi, don’t look at me like that,” Jamie protest. “They might be my teammates now, but they’re gonna be enemies again after international break. Can’t have them knowing shit like this.”
“You being deaf isn’t going to fucking take away the fact that you can demolish them all on the pitch, Tartt,” Roy says.
Jamie only hears the important part of that sentence. “You think I can demolish all of them on the pitch?”
“Stop fucking fishing for a complement, we both know you know you’re good,” Roy scowls. “Wear your fucking hearing aids. I won’t have you embarrass us because you didn’t hear the fucking gaffer. And if anyone gives you fucking shit, call me and I’ll kick their fucking brain in.”
If asked, he’ll deny it, but the protectiveness leaves Jamie a little hot under the collar and he says: “I’ll try, coach, swear down.”
Roy eyes him suspiciously, then lets it go to aggressively toss salad. It’s truly something only Roy Kent can achieve, Jamie thinks, watching Roy cook with fond eyes.
The chance of the information leaking is still a bit too high for Jamie’s taste, so he doesn’t wear the hearing aids to training. He does, however, wear them as he corners the England coach in his office, explaining the situation and getting the run down of the strategy again. Nowhere in the conversation is the coach shit and it doesn’t stop him from putting Jamie on the pitch when the time comes. His first reveal outside of family and Richmond hasn’t gone horribly.
What is going horribly, however, is the ever growing dread. Dad didn’t come knocking down his door – metaphorically, of course, since he thankfully don’t know where Jamie lives – about getting tickets to any of the England matches. There’s not the bragging about Jamie making the team or any criticism about how they played either. There hasn’t even made a peep about getting Jamie back for Wembley.
And now the Man City match is drawing closer and closer and it’s driving Jamie up the fucking wall. He can’t focus, can’t pay attention. He can’t even bring himself to condition his fucking hair. It’s all just pointless, because they’re going to Manchester and all the build up is going to have to come crumbling down, because it always does and then what the fuck does any of it matter, y’know?
Unfortunately – or probably fortunately – Roy and Keeley think differently about that and try to intervene. It’s very sweet and Jamie feels cared for (and other feelings he should definitely bury, because Roy and Keeley are good together and he will never have a place there).
However, as much as he loves Roy and Keeley, there is one person that has made the world make sense to Jamie. One person he always calls. One person, who is now within hugging range during a moment like this; Mummy.
Having Roy and Keeley in his childhood bedroom is fucking wild and he’s going to die of mortification about the two of them seeing those posters. It’s impossible they haven’t put the pieces together, but Jamie isn’t going to say shit, if they don’t. It’s not like Jamie’s obvious crush on both of them is stopping them from holding hands together. If they’re going to get back together, he’s going to be happy for them and not heartbroken. And he’s not going to humiliate himself either.
He walks away from home – because that council house will always remain home – with him and Roy flanking Keeley and a lightness to his shoulders that hasn’t been there in a while. He’s going to find his path. It’s what he’s been doing and he’s slowly and steadily getting there. Dad might be there as a looming shadow, but that doesn’t have to mean shit. He can do what he wants. Fuck him.
That is all easier said than done, despite the saying alone bringing Jamie peace, so he’s still nervous when stepping out onto the pitch. And it’s not undeserved nerves. Manchester does not what her son back, not after the way he left. But that’s okay. As much as Jamie loves the city, he also does not want to be back. It should be mummy’s city, but it will always be dad’s too. Especially with the sea of pale blue surrounding him.
It bugs the shit out of him that he can’t find dad anywhere, but it doesn’t stop him from playing well, which is a relief. Even if he could definitely play better. He’s pretty sure he’ll break down if they’re once again stomped into the ground here. It is already starting to feel proper cursed, their games against Man City.
When he hurts his ankle, he almost thinks this is it. He’s played an okay game, but has proven nothing. Ted is right to ask him if he can continue to play. He’s also annoyingly perceptive, catching on to the fact that Jamie’s looking for something, then giving him a weird speech about Freddy Kreuger. Only to throw this curve ball at Jamie: “You know, Jamie, if hating your pops ain't motivating you like it used to, it might be time to try something different. Just forgive him.”
“Fuck that, I ain’t giving ‘im that,” Jamie spits, because he’s not. He’s only thanking dad, because he drove him away from this city and back to Richmond, but that is the only thing. Dad doesn’t deserve it and Jamie ain’t granting him that.
“No, you ain’t giving him anything. When you choose to do that, you’re giving that to yourself,” Ted says.
Jamie is pretty sure mummy never forgave dad for a second, but she did allow herself to go on without needing revenge. Ted has always been too fucking nice and Jamie knows people deserve second chances, ‘cause he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without those. But he remembers dad in his face after he passed to Charlie, he remembers Roy’s soft “That must’ve been fucking traumatizing” and every single fucking moment in between.
He’s not forgiving dad for any of that, but he can let it go. It happened and he hates that it did, but he’s here now and he’s happy. After all dad ruined, he don’t get to ruin that too.
Jamie doesn’t finish out the match, but he makes an amazing goal and gets applauded from the pitch by the city that was once home. That feels like forgiveness. That feels like closure and a proper goodbye.
In a way, Manchester will always be where he is from and he will never forget it. He clawed his way up from these streets and made something out of himself. This feels like Manchester finally sees that, finally is proud and finally is content to let him go and find his peace and happiness away from it. It’s everything he wants his dad to give him, but he knows dad never will. He struggled to make peace with that for as long as he can remember. But as he walks off the pitch under the thunderous clapping, he feels like he finally has.
In the treatment room, he opens his phone. Still empty. For a moment, he hesitates over dad’s contact, Ted’s words echoing in his ears. Then he blocks the number instead and finally books an appointment with the therapist Dr. Sharon recommended. He’s tired of holding on to all the things dad forced on him, he wants better for himself. He wants to be free of it.
With the way the Man City game went, they’re very close to winning the whole Premier League. No one had expected this from Richmond and they’re all fucking thrilled. Nate is back with them, they’re planning to destroy West Ham – within the rules this time – and Jamie is going to go to Brazil for a Nike ad with Keeley. And Roy wants to go out for drinks. He’s basically on top of the world.
Sitting in the bar with Roy is a little weird. They’ve been friends for a while already – best friends, thank you, Phoebe – but they’ve never done a lot of typical friend stuff. Jamie never minded, they’re footballers and football is what they do. It always leaves you isolated from your peers, in a way, to be an athlete like that.
It’s noisy and Jamie is very aware of everything around them. This feels like something big. Like something that is going to change their relationship and Jamie doesn’t want to miss it. But it’s public, so he doesn’t have his hearing aids and when it’s loud like this, they’re not the most helpful anyway. So he’s really fucking trying.
“Whatever happens on Sunday, I want you to know I’m proud of you. All the work you’ve put in this year,” Roy says and Jamie can die happy. Fuck is he glad he is trying. That he managed to hear that. Roy is proud of him. Him! Fuck yeah.
As much as Jamie has an ego – and he knows he does, okay – getting this complement from Roy, leaves him a bashful. “Yeah, uh- Yeah, thanks. And, uhm,” he clears his throat hoping that the next part won’t be too revealing about his feelings with all the puzzle pieces Roy already has, “thank you for your help too, y’know. For- For motivatin’ me, encouragin’ me. I haven’t really had that from older men in me life.” Shit, the age dig is not what he meant to do there, but Roy is still smiling, he can salvage this. Be better. “Real talk, man. Thank you.” He offers his beer for Roy to click in an echo of the gala now already over two years ago.
Roy clinks his beer bottle back and smiles, catching on to the same memory Jamie’s thinking off. God, he knows Roy and Keeley are getting back together and he’s only ever going to be their friend, but fuck is he thrilled that he gets to be in their lives. Maybe Roy will come to Brazil too!
They take a few sips in silence, before Roy says something else. He hears his voice, but didn’t expect Roy to start talking again, so he weren’t paying attention. He makes out something about Keeley and feelings, but the noise of the bar is too much and he misses practically the whole thing up until the end which is: “… our friendship.”
Holy shit, is Roy asking Jamie dating advice? Is he talking about their friendship? What is happening? Why did he have to miss that fucking sentence? Fucking, fuck, shit.
For a moment, he considers pretending that he heard Roy like he has always done in the past. Just play it safe, go with what you think and don’t let them know you didn’t hear them, because you’re supposed to be better than that. But this is Roy. Roy who is learning BSL, who told him to come to him if the England team were shit, who met his mummy and let Jamie cry all over him, multiple times. Roy who is safe.
So, he changes his expression from his pretend ‘I’m caring and attentive and I am totally following what you’re saying’-expression go to something a bit more apologetic. “I’m sorreh, mate. I were trying, swear down, but the bar is too loud. I, uh- I didn’t catch that. But you can try again. I’m ‘ere if ya ever wanna talk. We’re best friends, ain’t we?” He tacks on the joke and hopes he hasn’t scared off Roy, who is famous for never talking about his emotions, now that he’s finally talking.
Roy looks at him and Jamie feels a pit in his stomach the longer it lasts, before Roy goes: “Fuuuuuuuuck,” exactly like he always does when he realizes something.
Jamie doesn’t know if that’s a bad thing, but he knows that he’s running after Roy when he then immediately stomps out of the bar. As he goes he calls out: “Roy. Roy. Fucking wait for me, man. I didn’t mean it. Slow down.”
Despite his protests, Roy doesn’t slow down until they’re in the park again, where he drops on the bench and puts his head in his hands. Fucking hell, this is bad. How the fuck did they go from Roy being proud of Jamie to this so quickly? Just what did Roy say just now?
“Gimme a sec,” Jamie says, fumbling with his hearing aids until they’re in. Then he says: “What the hell was that, coach? Why did you that for? I’m sorreh I didn’t hear ya, you know I don’t mean to do it, right?”
After everything, is this what proves to be too much? Was it all a lie and is Roy secretly fed up with Jamie having hearing loss? That would be the worst, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if- “ Fuck, shit, no- Fucking- It’s not that, Jamie. You’re good,” Roy cuts to his thoughts before they can spiral, thankfully assuring Jamie that his worst fears aren’t about to come true.
“Then what was that? What did I do?” Jamie demands, his quickly beating heart needing a way to get out of his chest.
“You didn’t fucking do anything,” Roy grits.
“I must have. You fucking ran,” Jamie says. “Just what did you say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Roy says and Jamie really fucking hates that answer.
“Well, clearly it fucking does or we wouldn’t be ‘ere right now, would we?” he scowls. “Just fucking tell me. You can’t just keep it from meh, you were about to tell me anyway. Why the fuck don’t you anymore?”
“Because it was fucking shit!” Roy explodes, finally looking up. For once, his face isn’t angry, it’s desperate and Jamie feels so very out of his depth here. He’s never seen Roy look like this.
“Wha-” Jamie starts.
However, the dam must have been broken, because Roy continues ranting: “I was about to say something shitty about you needing to back off from Keeley, because I know it’s a fucking shit thing to fucking say, but then you would be a prick back and I wouldn’t feel like a fucking arsehole, even though I was being a fucking arsehole, but that was easier than seeing you and her happy together while I can’t have either of you and-”
Roy stops and looks at Jamie with wide eyes, as if he realizes a second too late what he had just confessed. Jamie looks back with an equally startled expression, his for very different reasons.
Jamie recovers first, voice soft and a little fragile as he asks: “You- You want to ‘ave me?”
“Fuck, Jamie, I- I’m sorry,” Roy’s voice cracks, “I don’t- You don’t have to- Forget about that. It’s shitty of me to dump that on you.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, mate, are you dumb? I’m not letting you take back one of the best fucking things that ever happened to me.” Now that he can see Roy meant it and is fumbling about liking Jamie, holy fucking shit, someone pinch him this can’t be real. He’s never letting Roy go. Fuck no. Roy’s his now. No take backsies.
“It- It is?” Roy asks, clearly trying to be gruff, but sounding so very insecure instead.
“Yeah. Been into you since I were a sexy little baby, or did ya think that poster on me wall were next to Keeley’s by coincidence?” Jamie counters, smirk playing at his lip, hip cocked.
“I’m your coach.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Jamie is not letting Roy talk him out of this one. He can fucking try. Jamie will switch teams if that’s what it takes- not that he thinks he’ll have to. Rebecca is an awesome boss. He can totally get Keeley to vouch for them to her.
“But you still like Keeley,” Roy protest half-heartedly.
“So do you,” Jamie retorts. The silence is telling. Emboldened by Roy’s confession and the courage it took to speak his mind, Jamie says: “We could ask her to join. Triangles are the strongest shape, did you know that?”
Roy recovers bravely, corner of his mouth pulling up as he steps a bit closer to Jamie. “I did.”
“So what do you say?”
Roy is quiet for a bit, then he huffs out a laugh. “We’re already being fucking stupid tonight. What the hell. Why the fuck not.”
Which is how they end up on Keeley’s doorstep. She opens the door in her pajamas looks at them both for a moment, before she asks: “What did you do?”
“Hey! Why do you immediately think we’ve done something,” Jamie pouts.
She raises a brow and replies: “Because of course you have. So what is it?”
“We haven’t done something,” Roy comes to his defense – already very sexy, Jamie is going to be spoiled if he can get used to this – and when Keeley also doesn’t believe him, he smirks: “We’re about to do something stupid.”
“And why are you coming to my house to inform me of that?” she asks suspiciously.
“Roy said he fancies me and we both fancy you and if you wanna make out with us that’ll be mint, but otherwise we’ll leave and just shag each other,” Jamie blurts out, because the tension is killing him and he’s too riled up to take more.
“What?” Keeley chokes, looking over at Roy as if he’s going to kill Jamie and say he’s lying, which is rude. Jamie didn’t make up Roy fancying him. Jamie’s dead sexy and a catch, yeah. She should know that!
“Yeah, what he said,” Roy just says.
Keeley’s eyeballs look like they’re going to fall out and her voice is a little high as she asks: “Are you two fucking propositioning me for a threesome?”
“No, a throuple,” Roy tells her and, oh my, he’s on a roll with the open communication tonight. Jamie’s impressed and a little hard.
Despite their brazenness moments before, the two of them hold their breaths as they await her reaction, await whether they just blew up a friendship with this amazing woman, or if they’re going to get everything they have always wanted.
After what feels like forever, Keeley steps aside and opens the door further to let them in, matching hopeful grins breaking out on their faces. “We’ll talk about it.”
When Jamie leaves the next day, he hasn’t been fucked into next week, which is a shame, but he does need to play a match soon, so he gets it. Besides, he has two partners now and it will definitely happen in the off-season, so Jamie’s spirit can’t be broken.
In fact, he’s never felt better. He’s just so happy and excited and he is so proud of all of them for how far they have come. Him and Keeley never really talked about the important bits and Roy isn’t a talker either, but look at them now! They’re all articulate now, able to talk about shit. Important shit, shit that’s hard to put into words sometimes.
Plus, Jamie always felt like he had to put on a front of toughness and could never let anyone in. But all that is gone now too.
Jamie is utterly soft and the only thing it has done, is brought him the best thing in his life. His dad was wrong. He’s fucking wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being soft and vulnerable. And Jamie’s sick of living his life that way.
He doesn’t even think about it, he’s just fueled by the energy of last night that is an accumulation of the last two years where he’s been rewarded over and over again for embracing the fact that he isn’t the toughest shit around, but a person, who is open with others and trying. They can’t do shit to him, Richmond has his back and Jamie is sick and tired of always thinking about his every move, wondering what dad might say, what shitheads online will say. So when he leaves the locker room and heads for the pitch, his hearing aids are still in.
Sam, bless his heart, stops him before they go out there and says: “Your hearing aids are still in,” with a gentle tone. It’s not the first time he forgot, so it comes from a good place that Sam points it out.
“I know,” Jamie says, big smile stuck on his face, despite the way he’s still crying over that fucking goodbye video. “I don’t care.”
“Are you sure?” Sam asks, because he’s nice and a good friend.
“Yeah, mate, I’m sure. Cheers, though,” he assures him, then takes his place in the line.
Ted must have overheard, because he doesn’t check in with him before they get out there and when the referee tries to start shit over it, Ted shuts it down real quick. “They’re hearing aids. Medical equipment that we have documentation for. Jamie’s allowed to bring them on the pitch.”
That news must travel fast, but Jamie ignores it all. He’s made his choice and he doesn’t regret it, let the announcers be shocked and let the reporters go wild, Jamie has a match to play.
The presence of his hearing aids don’t change much, except maybe make him more confident. It’s a large stadium with a permanent wall of noise, so they don’t make much better, but it’s about the idea of it. The most he can think of, is that he can hear Ted say: “It’s an Oscar. Or the ESPY,” but Jamie doesn’t really understand what he means by that until Roy, who is standing next to Ted, signs: Acting.
It clicks for Jamie and he grins. Roy learned BSL for him and it is coming in handy. Try talking shit now, media, he thinks, before going to tell the others what the play will be and getting in position to run an amazing decoy, if he might say so himself.
When the whistle goes, fans pour onto the pitch and Jamie cannot blame them. No one expected this from Richmond and after getting relegated two years ago to winning now, must be beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.
He jumps into Roy’s arms without second thought, only just stopping himself from kissing the man in front of anyone. Though, Roy shares the gleam in his eyes that tells him he wants to as well.
All the lads are getting pulled into hugs by each other and by fans, most of which who are screaming or blubbering. It’s absolute chaos and Jamie loves every single moment of it.
However, at some point, the fans do start getting herded off by security and the players are encouraged to retreat to the locker room. Before he can get off the pitch, though, he is stopped by a small tug on his kit and when he turns around, there’s a young lad standing there, eyes wide as if he can’t believe he’s in front of Jamie fucking Tartt, but jaw determined to be there anyway.
Jamie instantly like him and gives him a broad smile. “Hey, there,” he says, before the boy surprises him by signing.
You hearing aids, he signs with the topic-comment structure that BSL has.
Correct, Jamie signs back. You name what?
The boy spells out his name letter for letter. T-O-M-M-Y. Then shows him the sign name he has.
Cool. Me J-Shark, he replies, excited with his own name. At this point, he’s crouched down to be on the kids level, ignoring anyone else to talk with the kid. This is what he does this for. You football like?
Jamie is definitely still a beginner at BSL compared to Tommy, but they make the most of it and Jamie understands that Tommy is a mid fielder, who wants to be a professional one day and he is very excited that Jamie knows sign and is hard of hearing too.
It makes him tear up a little, though he hides it well. He never had this part growing up, but he figured out really quick there was something wrong with him. To be here now, aware of what he had been going through and able to be the hope for someone else, is worth more than getting to play for England. He doesn’t even give a fuck that it’s probably not allowed and takes off his kit, signing it and giving it to Tommy. It’s not a poster, but he hopes it will give Tommy the same feeling Roy’s poster gave him.
He does have to leave after that, but he does it with pride in his chest and his head held high. He’s still going to have to face the press and deal with all the reactions, but it doesn’t feel as scary anymore. He’s got Roy and Keeley in his corner, not to mention the rest of Richmond. Besides, it’s not like they can argue he’s incompetent because of it after this season.
His life is good, really fucking good. And for the first time in a long time, he isn’t afraid of the other shoe dropping and it all coming down on him. This is what it has all been for. This is what he worked so hard for. And by fucking god, it has all been so fucking worth it.
~~
A/N:
I hope you like the BSL names I gave Roy and Jamie. I know Roy’s is only half a BSL word and the other just his angry brows, but I feel that is a very prominent feature that would identify him and these are the names they’ve gotten as celebrities, not people, so it would be more the external things people can observe of them, instead of something more personal. I hope that makes sense :D
I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t with the Jamie forgiving his dad nor the whole bar fight. It’s just too awful and out of character. Ted Lasso does a lot of things well, but it totally missed the mark on those.
The OT3 didn’t have a lot of build up, but this fic isn’t about them per se and it’s canon compliant and to me it canonically ends with the three of them getting together. Like that is practically text at this point. So it’s only marginally there xp
And I know I’m not including the media fall out and just leaving it at a hopeful tone, it would be interesting to explore, but this was about Jamie’s self acceptance not him having to justify himself. If anyone wants to write it, feel free! But I am going to pass and consider this the end :D
