3 Works by thirteenemeraldcats
Listing Works
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because he had no say in it (no say in it at all) by thirteenemeraldcats
Fandoms: Ted Lasso (TV)
01 Jun 2024
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Summary
“So what’re you doin’ for your birthday, Coach?”
The question’s so unexpected, asked so abruptly, that it almost sends Roy sprawling out of the rhythmic jog he’s fallen into at Jamie’s side and straight to the gravel below.
As it is, he skids to a quick stop and faces his star player, arms held stiffly at his sides. Waits for Jamie to notice he’s gone and hurriedly circle back to stand in front of him before replying. Quick feet and a quicker smile; the professional-menace doesn’t seem to care that he’s brought Roy to a dead-stop with just his words.
“The fuck did you just say?”
In which Roy experiences the mortifying ordeal of being loved and Jamie bakes a cake.
AKA: Happy Birthday Roy! Get celebrated you silly man!
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Summary
Nothing had happened, is the point. Nothing had changed. Nothing that would explain why he’d had to choke down his dinner, had only managed part of it in the end, left the half-eaten remains to go bad in his kitchen sink.
Nothing had happened that would explain how when he’d gone to get undressed for bed that night he just… couldn’t. How the thought of taking off the heavy sweats he’d spent the evening in felt unnervingly like peeling off his own skin. How he’d crawled into bed still fully clothed, still cold, had curled into a ball, tucked deep under his duvet. How he’d just… gone.
Nothing had happened that would explain why he was still curled into that ball, still fully clothed in the dark all those hours later. Still awake, still gone.
He’s cold.
In which Jamie has a very-bad-brain-day and Roy tries to help.
AKA: ‘I feel like I’ve lost my wings Roy’: but make it much, much worse.
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Summary
“I’m just angry, Roy, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Jamie clearly needs an outlet. Needs to get out of his own head. But he can’t take Jamie to the community pitch where he grew up, can’t take Jamie on some spontaneous bike ride to find a fucking windmill. Jamie can’t fucking run.
“I think I have an idea.” He’s lying. He has no clue what to do.
Jamie ducks his head, scowls at the floor and tangles his hands together in one tight knot. His knuckles are still white.
“Fine.”
Jamie believes him anyway.
In which Jamie is hamstrung and frustrated and Roy puts himself on an emotional spit rotisserie then spins around a bunch.
AKA: ’yeah I fucked it, made it worse’: Roy edition.