Mel saves her chart and looks up warily at Parker, who’s hanging over the counter to talk at Mel’s preferred volume for personal conversations at work. Parker bounces slightly while Mel mentally disengages from the patient she’s trying to discharge (male, 17, sutures needed on his arm after a cooking accident, very concerned mother).
“C’moooon, King,” Parker goads when she doesn’t respond. “You said we could do three of these per shift when I’m stuck on days. I’ve only used up one so far. Let’s go. Let me hear it, girl.”
Mel sighs. She didn’t think Parker would actually take her up on that offer when she made it. At the time, Parker had been complaining about how they keep changing her schedule around, ever since she agreed to do a few doubles for the extra money, and Mel felt bad for her. She’s having trouble holding that feeling, now, when she would rather be finishing up on her patient.
“Ellis, why’re you harassing Mel?”
Mel feels her spine automatically straighten at his voice, but she tries not to make it obvious. She can’t help but turn to look at him, though, as he ambles into view, coming to a stop beside Parker. He’s wearing a blue shirt beneath his scrub top today, and it makes his eyes somehow seem even bluer. It should be studied. For science.
“I’m not harassing her,” Parker protests, rolling her eyes at Mel. “I’m not your sorry ass, trailing behind her like a puppy looking for a treat. I’m having a conversation.”
Frank hums, unconvinced. “Usually both people talk in a conversation, and I didn’t see Mel talking. I did see her charting, though, which you’ve interrupted.”
“You’re no fun,” Parker huffs, gently knocking into his shoulder. “Fine, I’ll go check on my labs. King, I expect your answer when I return.”
Mel watches her departure for a moment before turning back to her chart. She doesn’t realize Frank is still standing there until he asks, “What was all that about?”
She feels her cheeks heat up and wishes she’d made her escape with Parker. “Oh, just a dumb game.” She types a couple of words and tries in vain to ignore the heat of his expectant gaze. After typing the same word three times in a row, she sighs and looks back up. He’s leaning against the counter, now, his bicep flexing just in her eyeline, and she chooses his nose as a relatively safe place to rest her gaze. “Um, you know how people like to play the game where you have to say who you would marry, kill, or, um––” Mel raises her eyebrows at him meaningfully, not keen on dropping an f bomb at the central hub for no reason, but he seems to take that as an invitation to fill in the blank.
“Fuck,” Frank finishes, nodding, and Mel feels that down to her toes. She swallows and bravely perseveres.
“The night shift really likes playing that, I guess.” She scratches behind her ear, trying and failing (yet again) to forget the conversation she’d had to listen to between Parker and Henderson about whether Frank would be better to fuck or marry out of the trio of him, Whitaker, and Jesse. Mel kept accidentally frowning at Dennis when she was back on days, remembering how quickly and remorselessly they had killed him. “But I find it, um, inappropriate. And upsetting. So we kind of invented an alternate version?”
Frank looks delighted. “Hell yeah. Hit me.” He softens into the smile she thinks of as hers, even though that’s probably self-important of her. It’s just that she’s never seen him use it around anyone else. “I mean, what’re the new categories?”
Mel blows out a breath. “Maroon on a deserted island, co-parent with, or partner with for a required lab prereq.” Frank laughs, his head thrown back and his Adam’s apple biteable, and Mel tries to keep her eyes on his nose. “That way we don’t have to kill or, um, y’know a colleague. Or somebody we don’t actually know, like a celebrity. I don’t want to wish that on someone.”
Frank tilts his head. “But won’t the person on the deserted island die?”
Mel shakes her head. This had been a major topic of discussion during the creation of the game. “No, not necessarily. It’s like how Captain Jack Sparrow could get out of being marooned. I like to start with that one, and figure out who would have the best chance to survive in those conditions or have a creative approach to escaping.”
Frank nods along, his lips still quirked up in amusement. “Alright, I’m sold. Who were the three Ellis just asked about?”
Parker reappears then, leaning against the counter and knocking back into Frank’s shoulder. “Why am I not surprised you’re still talking to Mel after telling me not to annoy her when she’s charting.”
“The difference is that I don’t annoy her,” Frank replies cheekily. Mel bites her lip to avoid smiling too obviously. It’s unfair how he makes everything look so charming, even when he is being a little annoying. “Right, Mel?”
Mel sees an opportunity for escape. “Neither of you annoy me,” she says, logging off and rising from her stool. “But I do need to discharge my patient, so maybe you two can entertain each other. Frank is very excited to play.”
She tries not to look too relieved as she hurries towards North Four. That was a little too close for comfort––
“No way,” Parker says, voice closer than it should be, and Mel accepts defeat. She turns back around to find Parker almost caught up to her, Frank still laughing against the counter. “I know you have an answer, King. Go.”
Mel sighs and stares determinedly up at the ceiling. Of course she has an answer. She knew it about 30 seconds after hearing the prompt.
“Abandon Abbott on the island, because I have complete faith in his ability to make the best of that situation, whether it’s continued survival or escape. Co-parent with Al-Hashimi, because she’s already a mother and she’d bring experience. Also, I think we probably have compatible values. Partner with Robby, even though I don’t know that he would have been my favorite lab partner, since I think he probably had a way he wanted things done, but I dealt with worse.” She drops her gaze. Parker is nodding, grinning, and Frank’s mouth has dropped open in a way that should look dumb but somehow just looks hot. Ugh. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Excellent choices. You and Al-Hashimi would raise some very smart and idiosyncratic kids.” Mel frowns, not sure if she should be offended, but Parker barrels on. “Alright, I get one more today. Me, Mohan, Langd–”
“Nope!” Mel tries not to interrupt people, she really does, but she’s done here. She’s trying not to look back at Frank, but she can still see his stupid mouth open out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll see you later, Parker! I have to discharge this patient now!”
She spins back around, heart pounding, and makes it all the way to her patient’s room this time. She waits outside for a minute, hoping her blush will dissipate, and mentally congratulates herself on avoiding a situation where she accidentally spirals about co-parenting with Frank in front of Frank. With a deep breath, she swings the curtain back, professional smile in place.
Sometimes she wonders if it was easier when everybody ignored her.
Summary: After Keeley breaks up with him and enters a new relationship with Roy Kent, Jamie is extremely jealous — in every possible way.
Notes: This fic was written for @polyamships Multiamory March event!!
It’s not fucking fair.
Jamie’s not an idiot. He knows Keeley deserves better than him. It stings a little, because he’d actually fucking liked her, but he’s able to accept the breakup. To an extent.
But for her to go to Roy? Roy Kent?
It would be one thing if Roy was just his rival. But Jamie can’t ignore the fact that he’s so much more than that. He looks up to the old dick. Admires him.
Thinks he’s probably one of the best-looking blokes on the team. Probably in London. Maybe even in England.
Needless to say, Jamie’s beyond jealous. He just isn’t sure who he’s more jealous of, Roy or Keeley.
One night, he had a dream — a dream that they’d all had a threesome. Just a dream, he tells himself over and over, trying to swallow down any longing he had whenever he saw the two of them together. Just a dream.
Instead of lusting over them like a bloody lovesick puppy, he’s decided to focus on jealousy, giving Roy more dirty looks than normal, even shooting a couple glares at Keeley — but only when he knows she wasn’t looking. After all, it isn’t her fault.
But the pining hasn’t stopped.
“So, what the fuck’s up with you and Roy, then, anyway?” Jamie asks Keeley one day after training, pulling off his jersey and not-so-subtly flexing his abs. He’s proud of his six pack. Not everyone on the team has one. Roy probably doesn’t, being a fucking hairy forty year-old dickhead.
That’s a lie. Jamie knows Roy’s still fit as hell.
Keeley gives Jamie a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
Jamie shrugs as casually as possible, leaning against his locker in a (hopefully) tantalizing manner. “I mean… do you actually like him? Or are you just trying to make me jealous?” He flashes her his signature cocky smirk.
Keeley grins back, a teasing grin that Jamie knows all too well, a grin that sends shivers down his spine. “Seems to be working, doesn’t it?”
Jamie chuckles, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he banters back. “Nah, hardly. You know me. I’ve got plenty of options.”
Keeley rolls her eyes, prompting Jamie to continue with that same smirk. “Still care about you, though, innit? Want to make sure you’re not making a mistake with that hairy old prune.”
Jamie gestures backwards towards Roy, who’s at the other end of the locker room, clearly watching them with a deadpan stare. Good, he thinks to himself. Let him get pissed.
Keeley’s grin fades into a fond smile. “Well, I care about you, too, Jamie,” she admits, and the sincerity in her voice makes the striker’s heart race. “But… I do like Roy.”
And just like that, his heart sinks. He’d been half-hoping she’d admit she was just dating him to make him jealous. But deep down, Jamie knows. They’re fucking falling for each other, and Jamie’s left on the sidelines.
He just can’t believe he fucked this up so bad with Keeley.
Quickly, though, he masks his disappointment with a scoff. “What’s there to like about him? He’s basically me, but… older. Grumpier. Way less attractive.”
Keeley gives him a look. “Jamie…”
“No, really,” Jamie interrupts, smirking a little. “I mean, if that’s what makes you happy, fine, but…”
“Jamie,” Keeley cuts in, her smile fading into a more serious expression. “He makes me happy. All right?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Jamie grumbles, rolling his eyes slightly as he turns back to his locker, starting to rummage through it. “When you get out of the whole honeymoon phase and inevitably dump him, give me a call.”
Keeley doesn’t even respond that time. Jamie’s jaw clenches as he starts rummaging around in his locker, packing everything into his bag as he prepares to leave.
“Oh, hi, babe!”
Keeley’s sweet voice snaps Jamie out of it. He already knows what he’s going to see if he turns around, but his masochistic side forces him to glance over.
Roy leans down and presses a kiss to Keeley’s lips. Jamie wants to scream. And yet, he can’t look away.
“Ready to go?” he murmurs against her lips. His voice, sweet and tender but still with that same gruffness, is so different than it is with anyone else.
Jamie wishes Roy would speak to him that way, but he’s royally fucked that one up, too. Not that he ever had a chance with Kent.
“Yeah,” Keeley answers, her eyes sparkling in a way that makes Jamie’s blood boil.
The old prick wraps an arm around her. She leans into it with that perfect smile.
And then, as if he can read Jamie’s goddamn mind, Roy suddenly locks eyes with him.
Jamie clenches his jaw and gives Roy a sharp glare, trying to hide the fact that just one look can make his heart beat a little faster.
Roy’s gaze only remains on his for another moment before he turns back around, guiding Keeley out of the locker room. And now Jamie really wants to scream, because he hears her giggle, and he even catches a glimpse of the old man’s mouth quirking up into one of those rare smiles.
It’s two days before Jamie leaves for the World Cup and Roy’s making him lunch after a fairly relaxed morning workout session. As he cooks, he listens with half an ear to Jamie’s happy chatter about his upcoming trip, about the camp, the other lads, and did Roy see the home kit, it’s good, yeah? For all that Roy doesn’t offer more than grunts in response, he can’t help but feel Jamie’s excitement wrap around him, contagious, and leaving him feeling fond, proud, and envious in equal measure.
“And they’re letting us have a day off to have family come visit us, you know,” Jamie says. “Guess it’s to keep everyone from getting homesick. It’s nice, innit?”
Roy hums non-comittedly. Maybe it is nice. The sort of thing Lasso would have loved, that’s for sure.
“Mum’s coming, and Simon. Maybe Keeley too, if she can get away. Might not, though, they’re getting dead busy, her and Barbara.”
Oh. “Keeley’s family?” Roy asks, and he tries very hard to sound neutral about it. Nonchalant; a little teasing, even. After Brazil, Jamie had been careful to let slip – every bit as casual as Roy is striving to be right now – that nothing had happened between him and Keeley there, but even so…
He dares a glance in Jamie’s direction, and sees him pulling at his sleeves, distinctly not looking back at Roy. “Well, I mean, no. Guess not. But they said we could invite friends, too, if we wanted. Not like, all of them, ‘course, but one or two close ones maybe.”
Huh. Roy’s instinct is to scoff because why would you need friends from home come and distract you when you’ve got a cup to win, but he holds back. Trying not to be so stuck in his old ways, and all that.
“So—“ Jamie takes a deep breath and then looks up at him, smirk suddenly in place and with his eyebrows raised. “You coming to see me, Coach?”
And Roy blinks. “You want me to come visit you at camp?” he demands after a moment of stunned silence. “In Australia? On fucking family day?” If he sounds incredulous, it’s less because he’s surprised at Jamie having the audacity to ask, and more because Jamie would even want to.
Then again, Jamie had asked him to come to Brazil, too. Roy had told him no, too proud to accept what he worried was a pity ask, and had spent every day of the week Jamie and Keeley were away regretting it.
That’s all he says. As if it’s reasonable. As if it’s simple. But Roy knows him well by now, and he can tell from the slight jitter of Jamie’s left foot that the other man isn’t nearly as blasé about this as he would like to pretend.
Turning back to his frying pan in a bid to win some time and get a grip on his swiftly rising and conflicting emotions, Roy mutters, “Doubt Southgate would appreciate you bringing in a private coach.” Gareth was, judging both by rumours and by Roy’s own recollection of their short time playing together, reasonably relaxed, but there were limits.
Jamie snorts. “Not asking you to come as me coach, am I?”
Roy is aware. That’s what makes this complicated. He knows how to be Jamie’s coach; he’s still not entirely sure how to be Jamie’s friend, even as he has surrendered to the fact that this is what he is now.
He knows that he’d like to be better at it, though. Admits, privately and somewhat ruefully, that he is pleased to have been asked.
“I’ll fucking think about it,” he says, and pretends he can’t hear the smug triumph in Jamie’s answering yeah, ‘course, decent.
Busies himself with plating the omelette so that he can pretend that he hasn’t already made up his mind.
my fav relationship ship dynamic is where it doesn't matter if you call it platonic or romantic or queerplatonic because they always act the same in every type of relationship. and the way they act? fucking weird.
[image description: 4 stacked gifs from ted lasso 3x12, showing jamie smiling after making plans to go to brazil with keeley and after making plans to go out for drinks with roy. / end id]
This would be part of a completely unrelated job in Sweden where burning the Gävlebocken only ends up being necessary by a hugely convoluted sequence of events, so that the entire episode everyone has to constantly remind Parker they are not here to burn the Gävlebocken, leave the Gävlebocken, do not be distracted by the Gävlebocken. Until we finally are rewarded with the delight on Parker's face as everyone on the team concedes that in fact we now must burn the Gävlebocken.
Throughout the episode, it's loosely implied that every other person on the crew EXCEPT Parker has already, for one reason or another, had to burn the goat. Parker is increasingly outraged each time.
