all the lights that light the way

by inlovewithnight

Summary:

Walking to the caf for tea means passing the wall of photos from when they won the Premiership, and Roy stops for a minute, like he always does, letting his eyes wander over those familiar faces. Most of them he hasn’t seen in person in years, though they still have group chats and video meet-ups and all kinds of shit that he hates that he understands.

There’s one picture at the very end, him and Jamie Tartt with their arms thrown around each other, laughing next to the trophy. Roy always lingers on that one for a moment, and thinks about how that’s another phone call he could make, and should, and has been putting off for too long.

Roy has made a point of not turning into Ted Lasso Jr. as Richmond’s manager. He cares about his players, but he’s not interested in being their dad or even their uncle. He’s their coach. That’s it. No hugging, no crying, no bonding over movies that are supposedly for children but are full of fucking trauma.

Or at least those are his intentions. Right now he’s got a 19-year-old kid sobbing his eyes out in the manager’s office because his mum’s just been diagnosed with cancer, and he’s here and she’s back in Sweden, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do. Of course Roy’s going to fucking hug him. He’s not a monster.

If he’s honest about it, this has happened at least once a year since he took over. Maybe once every few months. Maybe he’s shit at not being Ted Lasso Jr. The kids play for him, that’s what matters, right? They play their fucking hearts out. He’s so fucking proud of his team, year in and year out.

He gets Karl settled down, promises he’ll get family leave sorted out with Higgins and that the team will have a ticket purchased and the kid on a plane tomorrow morning, and sends him home to get his bag packed. Once Karl’s shuffled out the door, he lets himself take a few deep breaths, sends the messages to make those things happen in the fucking internal chat system he hates, and goes to find a fucking cup of tea.

He’s been in charge at Richmond for three seasons now, on the coaching staff for nine, and he still wants to call Ted up half the time and ask him how he fucking managed it without losing his mind.

Keeley would tell him to just go ahead and make the call. Ted would chat with him about it all day if Roy let him. Maybe he will do that, but not tonight. He had Keeley have dinner with Phoebe, who’s taking her fucking A-levels soon, and that makes him feel almost as old as listening to Karl cry did.

Walking to the caf for tea means passing the wall of photos from when they won the Premiership, and he stops for a minute, like he always does, letting his eyes wander over those familiar faces. Most of them he hasn’t seen in person in years, though they still have group chats and video meet-ups and all kinds of shit that he hates that he understands.

There’s one picture at the very end, him and Jamie Tartt with their arms thrown around each other, laughing next to the trophy. Roy always lingers on that one for a moment, and thinks about how that’s another phone call he could make, and should, and has been putting off for too long.

But he always shakes his head and keeps walking, and on the way back from the caf he takes a different hall.

**

Normally dinner with Phoebe is at their house, and Roy cooks, but today he’s exhausted and he texts an offer to take his women out somewhere nice instead. Phoebe’s excited for the excuse to dress up, Keeley requests a restaurant close to her office because she’s knackered as well, Roy goes home long enough to put on a tie and a jacket and drives back into town to meet them.

He’s going to miss these dinners when Phoebe goes off to uni. He tries not to dwell on it—one thing he’s learned in all these years of being called on his shit and self-help books and occasional therapy is that it’s better if he doesn’t brood on things—but it gets to him a little more every week. When he helps Eliza move her into her dorm he’s going to absolutely lose it.

Phoebe, as always, is too clever for her own good. “What are you going to do to keep yourself busy once I’m at uni, Uncle Roy?” She points at him with her fork. “You can’t just sit around and pout, it’s not good for you.”

“I’m going to take up golf,” he says flatly.

“No, you’re not, that’s ridiculous.” Being dismissed by her never gets any less delightful. “You should take in some foster animals or something.”

“What the fuck would I do with foster animals?”

“Love them. Obviously.” Phoebe rolls her eyes and stabs another bit of pasta. “What do you think, Keeley?”

Keeley sips her wine. “Well, if we get a little luck he could have a kid to take care of.”

“Oh!” Phoebe drops her fork with a clatter. “Is there news?”

“No, sorry.” Keeley shakes her head and pushes her glass away. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I did hear from the agency today but there’s nothing new.”

Roy reaches over to squeeze her hand under the table. “It’ll happen.”

“Just have to be patient.” She puts on a smile that they all know is fake and let her get away with because she needs it. “Anyway. Dessert?”

“Not for me,” Roy mutters, because his doctor is on his case about… who fucking knows, but Keeley orders him sorbet anyway. Phoebe gets some fancy ice cream and grins at him across the table, the same grin as when she was a little girl, and it makes him happy instead of sad for once, thank god.

“You two need to get home,” Phoebe says, glancing at her phone screen. “You’ll still be able to catch the second half of the match if you hurry.”

Roy frowns. “What match?” He doesn’t care about tonight’s Premier ones, they’re teams well beneath Richmond in the table.

“The Ligue One match. Paris Saint-Germain and Reims.” Phoebe looks like he must be kidding. “They’re playing right now, PSG’s up one-nil.”

“Why would I be watching Ligue One?” That’s nothing to do with him until Champions League, and that’s a ways away yet.

Phoebe stares at him. “Jamie’s playing, Uncle Roy. He had an assist on the goal.”

“Oh.” Roy finishes off his wine. “Well, that’s good.”

“Do you really not keep track of when he’s playing?” She sounds bewildered, which leaves Roy the same, because what—why—

Keeley clears her throat. “It’s a long season, Phoebes. Can’t keep your eye on every match.” She takes a sip from her water glass and signals the waitress for their check.

“Keeley.” There’s an odd urgency in Phoebe’s voice. “Does he really—”

“There’s a lot to keep track of, babe.” Keeley taps her phone against the waitress’s little magic machine thing and smiles too brightly again. “It’s fine. Now, do you need a ride home or will you get a car? You’re not walking from here.”

**

They drop Phoebe off and then go home, both of them quiet on the drive. Once they’re inside, though, Roy takes off his jacket and undoes his tie, leaving them draped over the back of a chair, and leans in the door of Keeley’s dressing room. “What was all that with Phoebe asking about Jamie’s matches?”

She glances at him and shrugs. “She thought you would keep up with him, that’s all. Help me with the zipper?”

He does, guiding the fabric down off her shoulders. “I keep up with him. I just don’t watch every match for a league I’m not involved with.”

“It’s nothing to be upset about, Roy. She was just confused.” She steps out of the dress and he scoops it up off the floor, waiting for her to hand him a hanger. “She thought you two were better friends than you are.”

He stares at her, the smooth curve of her back unable to distract him through his surprise. “What? Of course Jamie and I are friends.”

“Well, yeah, babe, I know that. But you’re not close.” She wiggles out of her shapewear and sighs in relief. “Fuck, I need to give up on this shit.”

“Why would you say that Jamie and I aren’t close?”

That gets him an exasperated look as she takes off her earrings. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“I… I don’t know.” Jamie talks in the various group chats all the time. Roy doesn’t say much, but he sees him in there. He follows Jamie’s socials. He knows what he’s up to. Why’s that any different from talking? “That doesn’t have anything to do with being close.”

“Right, of course.” She pats him on the shoulder and pushes past him into the bedroom, making her way to the dresser for leggings and one of his t-shirts. “Anyway, did you want to watch the second half of that match or not? Because if not, I’m going to just watch something here in bed, but if you’re going to turn it on, I’ll come back downstairs with you.”

He huffs at her, fishing a t-shirt out of the drawer for himself. “Well, now I’m thinking about it, so of course I’m going to go put it on.”

“Great. Put the kettle on, too, I’ll be right down. Just need to wash my face.”

Roy gets the kettle heating and the mugs set out next to it, then goes and clicks around until he finds the match. It’s two minutes into the second half, not bad. PSG is now up two-nil; he checks on his phone and Jamie wasn’t involved in the second goal, but he’s still out there on the pitch.

The camera zooms in on him while the announcers prattle on about his career stats. Roy ignores them and just looks at him. He still looks good, even if he isn’t the Greek sculpture he used to be. Lines around his eyes, a bit of gray at the temples, a scar on his forehead from an accident on hols the last year before he left Richmond. Roy remembers that, how the news broke on social media that Jamie Tartt had been in a boat accident in Saint-Tropez, and nobody had any actual details or status updates, and how he and the whole coaching staff had been crawling the walls until they got a sheepish phone call and assurance that he was fine, just needed stitches, not even a concussion.

Jamie’s huddled up close with two of his teammates, talking rapidly, hands moving to mime out a play. Roy doesn’t know the other two players, but the names on their jerseys look French and Catalan, so the three of them must have a mashed-up language of words, signs, and eyebrow movements. Whatever it is, it works; when the whistle blows again, they move seamlessly up the pitch and Jamie passes to the Frenchman, who puts it in high center.

The stadium erupts in cheers and Roy laughs out loud as Jamie runs over to congratulate the goal-scorer, tongue hanging out of his mouth like always. “Some things never change,” he says as Keeley comes down the stairs. “He just got another assist and he celebrates the same way he did here.”

“Course he does.” She smiles fondly and goes to the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with their tea. “Ooh, he got a new haircut, too.”

“Did he?” Roy can’t keep track of that. He’s watching how Jamie moves, jogging down the pitch again at a slower pace while the defenders work. That’s not the same as it used to be, not at all—there’s a little bit of a hitch in his steps, one that makes Roy wince in sympathy.

“You know,” he says, settling himself deeper in the cushions so she can lean against his shoulder more comfortably, “I remember the very first time he told me PSG was keeping an eye on him. It was a few years before he actually went. That day he and I went up to Haydock to watch the races, do you remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. When you finally stopped insisting you hated him and admitted you might be friends.”

“We just talked all day. Swapped stupid childhood stories. First-time stories. All that kind of nonsense.” He glances sideways at her. “Did he ever tell you about his first kiss with a man?”

“The probably a mobster in the loo?” She laughs. “He’s lucky he made it to adulthood, some of those stories.”

“I remember I got so angry, hearing some of them. Just. Why didn’t anyone look out for him better, why was he allowed to just stumble around like that? I wanted to protect him, even though he was obviously fine. He was twenty-five, for fuck’s sake, sitting right there next to me and laughing about all of it, but I still just…”

He trails off, staring at the screen, where Jamie’s lining up for a corner kick. Keeley’s hand settles on the back of Roy’s neck, rubbing gently, and he swallows hard against a sudden pang of fucking… feelings, in his chest, as Jamie sends the ball flying neatly to the Catalan lad.

“I miss him.” He wasn’t expecting the words to come out loud. Keeley’s hand stills for a moment, then gives a gentle squeeze. “You’re right, I haven’t talked to him in ages. I keep thinking I should call him or message him or something and then I just… don’t, and I don’t know why. I don’t even hit like on his social posts. I see them and I’m glad I see them but then I don’t…”

“Babe.” She lets go of his neck and wraps her arm around his waist instead, holding him carefully. “Oh, Roy. It’s all right.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.” He lets his head fall on her shoulder and closes his eyes. “He’s… he is my friend, you’re right, I don’t know why I keep running away from the idea of talking to him.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “You care about him a lot, babe. I know you do. But you’ve always been a little… a little bit funny about Jamie, right?”

“What do you mean?” He thinks back, trying to remember what it was like having Jamie around all the time, how he acted, how he felt.

“Well, when you were coaching him,” she says carefully. “You were always a bit more intense about him than the other players. You wanted all of them to be their best, but with him it was different.”

“Because his best was a level above most of theirs. Dani and Sam could maybe match him, but otherwise… I knew he could be great. I wanted to be part of the reason he reached that.”

“You saw yourself in him, maybe?” She’s still speaking so carefully, like she’s handling glass, or a bomb. “You saw a second chance to be great all over again?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching on the screen as Jamie makes another perfect corner kick. “I couldn’t stand the idea of his potential being wasted. He deserved to fucking shine.”

“Roy.” She shifts to face him, and he turns to meet her gaze. “I want you to do something for me. I want you to think—just really think—about Jamie for a minute, okay? Close your eyes and think about him. Now or then or… or whenever. Just what you think about when you think about him. And then try to concentrate on what you feel when you think about him. Can you do that for me? Please?”

He wants to argue—he feels about Jamie the same way he feels about all the people he doesn’t hate, except Keeley and Eliza and Phoebe, they’re the only ones with a separate tier—but she looks so serious that he can’t. Instead he nods, and closes his eyes, and tries to do what he was told. Think about Jamie. Feel what he feels when he thinks about Jamie. Really concentrate on his feelings, don’t flinch away from them or deflect them or start shouting to change the subject to something else. Thoughts and feelings and Jamie.

It takes a few minutes. And then there’s a few more minutes to deal with the realization of that feeling, and what it means, and how long he’s been fucking hiding from it. How much time he’s wasted by being an avoidant fucking fool.

When he opens his eyes, it’s just in time for the telly to show Jamie nailing a perfect shot over the Reims’ goalkeeper’s shoulder. Roy watches those two young teammates jump all over Jamie like a pair of mastiff puppies.

“Oh,” he says quietly, and Keeley’s arms go around him again. “Oh, well. Fuck.”

**

There’s a panicked few minutes of him scrambling to tell Keeley that he loves her, that this isn’t—this doesn’t change—he’s not going to leave her, while she stares at him in utter bewilderment.

“Roy, babe, babe,” she says finally, cutting him off with the simple expedient of putting her hand over his mouth. “I know that. I don’t think you’re going to leave me. I just… love, you’ve been hiding this from yourself for so long, I hoped maybe you were ready to see it.”

“You saw it?” He feels like he’s falling from a great height, and he’s clinging to her like she can save him, and he’s a fucking wreck, he hasn’t been this much of a mess in years. “What… why didn’t you…”

“For a long time I thought you knew and you were choosing not to do anything about it. Like, I thought you’d made a conscious decision that that wasn’t something you wanted.” She runs her fingers over his hair, steady and careful petting, trying to help him calm down. “By the time I realized that no, you really just… didn’t know how you felt, there wasn’t really any way to bring it up without causing problems.” She breathes out, a little shaky. “I didn’t want either of you to be hurt.”

“Fuck.” He curls forward, resting his head on her shoulder, and she puts her arms around him again. “I am… so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not.” She sounds fierce enough that he starts to look up, but she’s resting her head against his and so he melts into her again instead. “You’re not stupid, you’re just… football poisoned, I think. Both of you. You don’t know what feelings feel like if kicking a ball around is tangled up with them. You think an orgasm is the same thing as scoring for England.”

“Keeley…”

“I know, I know, I don’t want to check those jock straps.” She kisses his ear and holds him closer. “You don’t have to do anything with this if you don’t want to. You can just… acknowledge it and let it go.”

“I don’t know what else I possibly could do with it.”

She pulls back and frowns down at him, tilting her head. “Well, you could go talk to him.”

Roy stares at her. “Go talk to Jamie. About having a… a feeling about him ages ago.”

“It’s still there, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s been too long. He’s a different person. I’m a different person.” He’s speaking too fast, going through excuses too fast, he knows it and he knows she knows it. “He’s not interested anyway, he’s—he’s probably got a partner now anyway, someone who isn’t a fucking idiot and who can recognize a feeling in less than ten years.”

“What if you try saying the word, babe,” she says patiently. “Instead of just ‘a feeling’ over and over again.”

“I can’t do that.” He can’t. He’ll choke if he tries it. He’ll fucking die.

“Okay. Okay.” She tilts his chin up and kisses him properly. “I’m going to make us each a fresh cup of tea, and I’m going to put whiskey in both, and we’re going to try to settle down a little before we talk about this any more. Fair?”

“Thank you.” If he was this vulnerable in front of anyone but Keeley he would have to leave and throw himself off a fucking bridge. She’s the only person he can trust with this… messy shit bubbling up out of his chest and into his mouth and then spilling into the world. Disgusting. Terrifying.

She kisses him again and eases off the couch, gathering up their mugs, and he makes himself lie back, stretch his legs, concentrate on his breathing. Fuck, what a disaster. What a joke.

On the screen, regulation time is running down and extra time is about to start. PSG’s up four-one. Jamie and his pair of puppies are sweaty and glowing and all but swaggering up the pitch. Roy can’t look away.

**

The process of talking about it gets broken up into smaller conversations over a few days, to keep Roy from having a heart attack. Keeley’s patient with him, because she’s a saint, but he can tell she’s starting to fray by the third day of Roy trying to guess what Jamie’s reaction might be.

“This isn’t useful, babe,” she says, tapping her fingers on the table. “The only way to know for sure is to tell him and see how he actually reacts.”

“What if it makes him hate me?”

She shakes her head. “Does that really sound like Jamie?”

And that’s a hard question, isn’t it? Apparently he and Jamie aren’t friends, or aren’t close anyway, and probably he shouldn’t presume to know what Jamie’s like.

“Well you know he’s not someone given to hate,” Keeley says with real exasperation when he finally manages to get all that out. “Roy, you’re important to him. He cares about you. He will at least hear you out and treat you fairly.”

He can’t argue with that. “This is very overwhelming.”

“I know.” She puts her hand on his thigh and squeezes gently. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“You’ve been telling me what you think for three days.”

“That’s true, but you’ve barely been listening.” She sighs and squeezes again, a little harder, until he looks at her. “You need to go talk to him. In person. Face to face. Where you can’t avoid or hide from it or hang up or chuck your phone out a window.”

“I could chuck myself out a window.” He can imagine exactly how that might go, actually. “And I can definitely avoid and hide in person.”

Keeley’s brow furrows dangerously, and he knows he’s being too flippant. “Roy. You owe it to yourself, and you owe it to him, and you owe it to me. This isn’t a joke. It’s part of you and you owe it to all of us to be honest about it.”

“But it’s too late, Keeley.” His voice breaks a little on her name. “It’s too late to do anything with it. So what’s the point?”

“I don’t agree with the premise.” She kisses his cheek and stands up. “I need some air. Please just think about it?”

“I will.” As if he would be able not to think about it, after her saying that. It’s going to consume his entire brain. “Think I might go up and lie in the bath for a while.”

She nods and goes out into the garden and he walks upstairs, running the water hot enough to sting and adding some of Keeley’s fancy bath salts that don’t make his aches and pains feel any better but do make his skin a lot softer. Witchcraft probably.

He sinks down in the water and closes his eyes, letting his mind drift for a while. He’s thinking about it, just not in a directed way. Letting his memories and feelings swirl around and put themselves into new combinations.

He doesn’t open his eyes until Keeley taps on the door, a good while later. The water’s gone almost tepid.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You ready for bed?”

He nods and slowly sits up, reaching to pull the drain. “Yeah. Sorry I was in here so long.”

“It’s all right. Good thinking?”

He nods again, not quite able to look at her. “It would really be okay if I went to Paris? Just two days, one overnight. Just to talk.”

“Babe.” She comes over and leans down to kiss him, her hair falling around his head in a sweet-smelling curtain. “I already got your ticket.”

**

Roy messages Jamie the night before his train. I’m going to be in Paris the next few days. Can we get coffee? Talk?

He stares at that for a minute, wondering if it’s too much, or not enough, or—he doesn’t know. Not right, anyway.

I’d like to see you, he adds, then cringes at the screen. Fuck. He sounds like an idiot.

Three dots dance next to Jamie’s name, and then a reply comes up. !!!! Roy Kent! It’s been ages. Of course we can meet up. Let me check the team meetings and all and I’ll send you a time and place. The training facility is out in Poissy but I can come back into the city.

Roy has no fucking idea where Poissy is, so he’ll do whatever Jamie suggests. Sounds great. My train gets in around 10:30. There’s no rush.

Perfect. I’ll let you know!

Roy hesitates, looking at the screen, and finally gives in and types, You want me to bring anything in particular from London?

That gets a very excited three dots. O fuck mate if you could bring jaffa cakes you wouldn’t think it would be so hard to get them but I’m fucking dying. Please.

All right, that’s a project. Roy can do that. Absolutely. See you soon.

Keeley comes to bed from doing her skincare routine and leans over his shoulder to read the conversation. “Aww, bringing him little gifts. You’re courting him, babe.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Roy makes a face. “We’re not in an Austen novel.”

“You could be. You’d both look fit in those clothes.” She kisses his cheek and settles herself under the blankets with a yawn. “You being gone for two whole days, what am I going to do with myself?”

He sets his phone off and arranges himself against her, slipping his arm around her waist. “Work. Don’t forget to eat. Enjoy having the whole bed to yourself, and not having to negotiate for the telly, and taking as long a bath as you want...”

“Mm. True.” She wiggles her bum against him. “It’ll be weird, though, we haven’t been apart for more than an overnight match trip in a while, have we?”

It’s true; for all that Roy remembers the importance of giving Keeley space, these days it’s more likely to be space inside the house than being in different places. They’ve gotten closer over time, twining together like trees kept in the same plot. Sometimes he forgets where he ends and she begins, not realizing it until one of them misses a step and the other catches them.

He doesn’t want to lose that. Not for a roll of the dice on Jamie, who might not even...

“Love you,” Keeley murmurs sleepily, and Roy catches himself. He doesn’t have to detangle those feelings, he can just chop them apart with mental scissors. Keeley has faith in him. Keeley wants him to do this. It’s not going to do anything to what they have.

He’s not sure you can just add a third tree to a plot, but maybe it can kind of... lean over the fence and cross branches. Something. Fuck, he’s bad at metaphors.

“Roy,” she says, a bit more firmly. “You’re grinding your teeth, babe. Stop thinking and go to sleep.”

“Yes, boss,” he says, kissing the back of her neck, and does his best to obey.

**

Jamie keeps his word and, later that night, sends the name and location of a cafe and a timeframe where he can be there. Roy picks a time somewhere in the middle and agrees to that, then goes back to packing. He’s only there for one night but he has to take a full-sized suitcase to bring gifts back for Keeley. And anyway that’s more room for the three packages of jaffa cakes he’s carrying along.

Keeley drops him off at the station and kisses him goodbye, whispering in his ear that she’s so proud of him for putting himself out there, and if he chickens out she’ll make him sleep on the couch for a week. That’s his woman.

The Eurostar ride to Paris is smooth and easy, as usual. Roy reads a book, or at least re-reads the same paragraphs over and over again. He makes it through five pages in two hours. It’s not his best day.

When he gets to Paris he gets a taxi to his hotel. He’s got about an hour and a half before he’s supposed to meet Jamie, enough time to take a shower, get dressed in something that looks better than his traveling clothes, and get another taxi to the cafe.

Showering and changing his outfit for coffee with a friend ought to be deeply embarrassing—it’s the sort of thing he would have made fun of Jamie for doing, years ago. But here he is, glaring at his reflection in the mirror and touching up the edges of his beard and sideburns. He isn’t sure how he feels about the number of gray hairs scattered through them. Maybe he should’ve bought some dye. No, fuck that. He needs to get a fucking grip.

He throws his razor down by the sink and gets dressed. Jeans instead of sweats but it’s another version of the exact same black t-shirt as he wore on the train. He’s a fucking parody of himself.

He must have one of his scarier facial expressions on, because when he gets down to the lobby the man at the desk scrambles to get a car for him before he gets the full sentence out. “One moment, monsieur,” he murmurs, shooting Roy a wary glance. “This neighborhood is very good for taxis, it will only be a moment.”

“Thank you.” Roy goes to stand out front, glaring at the valets and the bellhops and everyone else huddled around the doors like fools, just like him. This was a terrible idea. He’s going to divorce Keeley and move to Canada.

A taxi pulls up and despite his trans-Atlantic dreams, he gets in and gives the address of the cafe. The driver gives him a look that’s simultaneously skeptical and approving.

“That is a very French neighborhood, monsieur. Not many tourists like you.”

“I’m meeting a friend,” Roy growls. “He suggested it.”

“Oh! Very good.” The driver eases the car into traffic and, thank god, doesn’t say anything else the whole drive. Roy doesn’t know what that was supposed to be a warning about. Are the Parisians going to mug him in some sort of revenge for Brexit? That was fucking years ago and also not his fault.

When they get to the café, Roy sees Jamie already sitting at a table outside, chin in his hand as he scrolls on his phone. Roy stands back for a moment, looking him over, finding the differences between now and the last time they saw each other. There aren’t many—a bit of gray streaked through his hair, but Jamie’s got a good enough stylist to blend it in with highlights, just like Keeley does. That scar on his forehead, but that’s only different from when they first met, not new. He’s not dressed to draw attention, expensive streetwear but in dark colors and without big logos. There are more lines around his eyes than Roy remembers, and a few cut deeper around his mouth, but they seem like good ones. Smile lines, not grief.

Jamie looks up and spots him, his mouth curving into a broad grin, and yeah, the lines definitely come from that. “There you are. Still standing and staring like a creepy wanker.” He gets to his feet and gestures at Roy with both hands. “Get over here, you’re getting a hug whether you want it or not. Can’t believe how long it’s been. Fuck.”

Roy can’t think of anything to say, but Jamie doesn’t seem to mind as long as he lets himself be pulled into the hug. And that... fuck, that feels more right than Roy thought it would. He holds on tightly, his fingers flexing against Jamie’s jacket, feeling the strength of his muscles underneath. God. Jamie.

“Fuck,” Jamie says, pulling back and grinning at him again. “You look great. Got the salt and pepper beard going, I like it. How have you still not gained a fucking pound, mate? It’s ridiculous. I have to chase the kids down and half kill myself to stay in game shape and you—”

“It’s good to see you,” Roy says, belated, awkward, and Jamie trails off, still smiling.

“Yeah, same. Very good.” He gestures at the table. “Sit, please, I told the waitress I was waiting on someone, she’ll be around... well, she’ll be around when she’s good and ready, but this is a great place, one of my favorites. Get a pastry, they’re brilliant.”

That reminds Roy of his cross-the-Channel cargo, and he holds out the Tesco bag he’s been carrying. “Your jaffa cakes.”

“Oh, you’re a saint.” Jamie looks in the bag and groans happily. “Three packs! Fuck. Yes. Mum refuses to send them because she doesn’t like them, it’s a bit of a runnng joke by now but still, sometimes I would just kill for one.”

Roy knows that a conversation involves both of them talking, but his brain refuses to engage in anything beyond staring at Jamie. He looks so good, happy and energetic and blithering on about jaffa cakes. How did Roy just... not reach out to him for this long? How is Roy such a fucking idiot who ignored things for years just because they had the potential to make him vaguely uncomfortable?

How did he waste so much time?

“Roy?” Jamie’s expression is faltering into a frown now. “Roy, mate, are you all right?”

“Yes. Sorry.” Roy blinks rapidly and looks away, pretending to search for the waitress. “Just could use some coffee. Had to get up early with Keeley so she could get me to the station on her way to work, you remember how that is.”

“A hurricane.” Jamie relaxes a little bit. “How’s the club? I check the fixtures and you lot are solid this year.”

Right, of course he checks the fixtures, while Roy never paid the slightest bit of attention to Ligue 1 until Phoebe brought it up. “Decent year. Not going to take the title but we’re not sliding down the table either.”

“You’re one decent striker away from being back in the Champions League.” Jamie grins again. “Ideal if you could find two. Rojas and Tartt the next generation.”

“They don’t make them like the two of you anymore.” It comes out harsher than he meant, and the words lie there like mud while the waitress takes their orders.

Roy manages to pull himself together and ask a few questions while they wait for their drinks and pastries. Just the basic sort of things—how Jamie’s season is going, how’s his mother, has he talked to any of the lads or Ted in a while. Small talk. Meaningless. Their orders come and they eat and drink in silence for a few minutes, Roy turning his full attention to the buttery wonders of real French pastry and Jamie breaking his own into pieces and then licking his thumb to pick up the crumbs.

“So…” Jamie fidgets in his seat. “How’s Keeley? I see her socials, obviously, but we haven’t talked in a while.”

“She’s good. She’s great.” Roy stares into his coffee cup. “I don’t know if you saw, we’re looking into—”

“Adopting. Yeah. I did see.” Jamie nods. “That’s great.”

“Don’t know if it’ll work out, but…” Fuck, this is awkward. Roy shrugs. “What about you, are you seeing anyone?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Not at the moment. Last relationship ended a little ugly. Taking some time off from all that.”

“Ugly how?”

“Oh…” Jamie sighs. “She didn’t like that we only got, what, six or eight weeks a year just to ourselves. Thought I should just ask for more time off, that it wasn’t fair the way it works.”

“Well, you’re fitting a whole life’s career into a shorter span. Then you get the rest of your life retired, longer than most people.”

“Right. I told her that. She pointed out that I’ll be spending all those years in pain all the time and I was like well yeah, that’s the tradeoff.”

Roy shakes his head. “Hard to explain why it’s worth it, I guess.”

“Yeah, she definitely didn’t think it was worth it.” Jamie snorts and takes a drink. “It’s all right. We called it quits before anything went really wrong.”

“That’s good.” The mention of pain reminds Roy, and he tilts his head at Jamie. “How’s your hip, by the way?”

“Ah, that fucker.” Jamie missed most of a season after hip surgery, a year or two back. “It’s fine. Got a good five years left in it, the doctors say. At least I think that’s what they say. I still don’t speak French.”

Roy laughs softly and they’re quiet for a bit, watching people move by outside the windows. The streets of Paris and all that; Roy isn’t a fan of this city but he has to admit it has atmosphere.

“You didn’t come here just to catch up,” Jamie says finally, and when Roy looks at him Jamie’s pinning him with a knowing gaze. “You hate just catching up and you hate Paris. You don’t hate me, I know that, but that’s two out of three, mate.”

“I did want to catch up,” Roy defends himself, before giving up on it. “But it was because of something specific, yeah.”

“All right. Tell me. I’m emotionally prepared, I promise I won’t cry.” Jamie lifts an eyebrow. “Unless it’s something very sad?”

Prick. “No, it’s not sad, I don’t think? More like…” He doesn’t know what it is, honestly. He takes another sip of now-cold coffee. “Keeley and I were watching one of your matches, a week or two back. Got to reminiscing.”

“Nice things or mean things?”

“Nice ones.” It gets harder all the time to remember the mean things. Funny how the years rolling on do that, soften up all the edges of memory. “I was remembering what it was like to coach you, at Richmond.”

Jamie smiles, flashing those ridiculous white teeth he’s definitely had done a few times. “You were a great coach. I know you’re even better now, glad Rebecca finally came to her senses and made you manager.”

“No, it was the right thing, making me take a few more years of apprenticing before promoting me.” Working under Keith had been a proper apprenticeship, too, not like supporting Lasso. Roy loves the man but he never did learn the finer points of the sport. “I wouldn’t have been ready without it.”

“Well, you’ve got it now, and you’ll have Richmond up in the Champions League in two years at most. I’ll put money on it.”

Roy shakes his head. “Save your money, you haven’t seen our pipeline. But that’s not the point.”

“All right.” Jamie frowns, settling back in his chair. “You were reminiscing about coaching me.”

“Yeah. I was thinking about it. And I realized that maybe… the feelings I thought were about your playing…” Fuck. He can’t say this out loud. Why did he think he could? Keeley’s fault. He is not bringing her back any shoes or purses.

Jamie stares at him. “Feelings about my playing, yeah, got it.”

“They weren’t really about your playing.” Roy swallows and lets his gaze drop to the table. “They were just… about you. In general.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Jamie shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

Fucking hell. “I… I won’t say I was in love with you, but I… felt more than… coaching interest. More than friendship, even. I just didn’t know how to recognize it.”

Jamie blinks a few times, his gaze drifting out the window again. “Roy.”

“Yeah.” He can’t finish the last dregs of cold coffee, but the silence is stretching out and he doesn’t know what to do with his body. “Right. This was a mistake.”

“Don’t do that.” Jamie blows out a sharp breath. “You’ve at least got to give me a few minutes.”

“I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m confused.”

Roy opens his hands helplessly. “What’s there to be confused about?”

That gets him an actual glare. “Why are you telling me this now? What do you want me to do with this information? Are you taking the piss?”

Right. He deserves that. “I’m not taking the piss. Really. I’m not. It’s just... something I didn’t understand so I didn’t think about it.”

“Right.” Jamie rubs at his jaw. “Guess I can see that. Emotions being complicated. You being old and all.”

“Don’t.”

They sit in silence for another moment, until the tension eases. Their waiter, who’s been watching them with open curiosity, comes by and offers refills, which they both accept, and after the new drinks arrive Jamie takes a breath and speaks again.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Roy says honestly. “I just… I needed to tell you.”

“That you had feelings for me years ago.”

“Yes.”

Jamie stares at him and takes another drink. Roy stares back, captivate despite himself by the lines around Jamie’s eyes and at the corners of his mouth, the extra bit of character carved in by time and joy and pain in equal shares.

“Do you still have feelings for me now?” Jamie asks finally, and even though in retrospect it’s the most obvious question in the world, it makes Roy’s heart stutter in his chest.

“I…” Roy can’t look away from him. That probably says something itself. “I don’t know. I think so. Maybe.”

Jamie nods slowly. “You think so. Maybe.”

“Well, what do you want my answer to be?”

“That isn’t how it works, Roy!” Jamie laughs, breathless and pained. “What I want doesn’t have anything to do with how you actually feel.”

“I’m here.” Dragging the words out physically hurts, but so does the way Jamie’s looking at him. “Like you said. I hate Paris and I hate catching up but I’m doing both of those things so I can see you.”

“You realized you had feelings for me before, and instead of laughing it off and going oh, to be young again, or at least a little less old, you bought a plane ticket.”

Roy nods, then shakes his head. “Sort of. I panicked. Keeley bought the ticket. And I came on the train. But the general… outline. Yeah. That.”

Jamie’s mouth twitches. “Course she did. She could’ve fucking texted me a warning.”

“I asked her not to. In case I panicked again and didn’t tell you.”

“That sounds about right.” Jamie’s quiet again, his fingers drumming on the table. “So she’s okay with you telling me this. Us having this… conversation.”

“She is. Yes. She thinks it’s ridiculous that it took me this long to figure it out.”

“It is.” Jamie rubs his face with both hands, then claps them together. “Right. So. I’ve got to get to a team meeting about something I don’t care about in the slightest, and then I have physio. While I do that, you should go find a present for Keeley, and tonight you should meet me at this restaurant I’m about to text you.”

Roy feels like the floor suddenly dropped out from under him. “You’re buying me dinner?”

“No, you’re buying me dinner.” Jamie taps his phone and Roy’s promptly buzzes. “If Keeley didn’t sign off on a dinner date you’d better run that past her. Otherwise I’ll see you then.”

“Wait. Jamie.” Jamie’s already on his feet and sorting out his jacket. “Shouldn’t we talk about—”

“I don’t have time. I’ve got this meeting, it’s all the way back out in Poissy, I’ve got to...” Jamie stops for a beat, looking at Roy with an intensity that Roy doesn’t remember from him, another reminder that this is the Jamie he remembers, but not just that Jamie. There’s more now. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Yeah. Right.” Roy nods stiffly. “Sounds good.”

“Please don’t panic and not show up.”

Hurtful, but not unreasonable. “I promise I will be there.”

“Good.” Jamie looks at him for another moment, then turns and goes, and Roy watches him disappear down the street before he realizes the prick fucking left him with the bill.

**

Roy calls Keeley from a ridiculously fancy shoe shop, run by an icy-eyed woman who watches him with open disdain as he browses. “Hey babe,” she answers, sounding tired but in a good mood. “How was it? How’s Jamie?”

“He’s fine.” Roy frowns at a pair of orange stilettos. Keeley’s set a limit on how tall her heels can be these days, but fuck if he can remember what it is. "Older."

"That does tend to happen.” She laughs a little. “And how did it go? The conversation?”

“He asked me to have dinner with him tonight.” He picks up a green thing that’s more an art piece than shoe as far as he can tell. “If that’s all right with you.”

“A date!” Keeley sounds both delighted and smug. “I told you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He puts the thing down and glances over his shoulder at the woman. She hates him. He hates her too. “Don’t get too excited, he seemed more confused than anything.”

“He asked you to dinner, babe. That’s not confused.”

“I suppose not. I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“Just let things play out.” She makes a frustrated noise that he knows well after all these years; she’s got messages coming in that are going to chase her off the phone in a minute.

“I should let you go,” he says before she has to be the one to do it.

“Call me tonight? Or, well.” She laughs again. “Tomorrow morning, if he takes you home after dinner.”

“Keeley!”

“What? I’m giving you permission. You’ve waited this many fucking years, why not? And unless he’s changed a lot, you’ll have a great time.”

“You are impossible.” He waves at the woman and points to both the orange ones and the green ones. If Keeley doesn’t like them she can sell them on one of those secondary sites she treats like a personal amusement park.

“You love me.”

“I do.” He points to a bright pink pair of heels, too, of a more reasonable height and that he’s pretty sure she’ll actually wear. “Talk to you soon. See you tomorrow night.”

“Take an extra day if you want! You and Jamie should catch up properly.” There’s no question of what she means by that, and Roy rolls his eyes, tells her goodbye, and hangs up.

The shop owner is glaring at him with the bag of shoes in one hand, the other one holding out the scanner. “Monsieur.”

Roy growls at her, she shows her teeth right back, and he taps his phone. This is why he hates Paris. He’s not the scariest person in any room.

**

The restaurant Jamie picked is a quiet, simple brasserie. When Roy gives Jamie’s name at the front, the maitre’d nods and takes him directly to a booth in the back. “Monsieur Tartt’s regular table,” he says. “I will tell him his party is here when he arrives.”

“Merci,” Roy says, which earns him a stern look before the man sweeps away. So Jamie’s enough of a regular here for the staff to know his preferred seat. Roy didn’t expect that. What happened to cutting-edge trend spots and sick clubs?

Turning thirty happened to them, he knows. He remembers, if he tries.

Jamie arrives a few minutes later, wearing a dark, impeccably fitted suit. That would throw Roy for more of a loop than it does if not for the fact that he glimpses the lining, which is an absolutely garish print featuring a lot of lime green.

“Didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up,” he says, gesturing at Jamie and then at himself. “I would’ve gone shopping.”

Jamie snorts. “No you wouldn’t have. Did you at least get something for Keeley?”

“Three pairs of shoes, a purse, and a scarf.”

“Good man.” Jamie smiles at him, which eases some of Roy’s tension. “I was a mess after physio, so since I had to shower and change anyway I figured why not show off a bit.”

“The hip or something else?”

“Turned my ankle the other day at training. Compensating for it throws the hip off, I forgot about that and did the wrong stretches yesterday and made it worse, Antoine had to put everything back in place today. He calls me l’imbécile. I can recognize that one.” Jamie shakes his head, still smiling. “I get tomorrow off, though, so that’s nice. I love a maintenance day.”

Roy remembers the feeling well. He gestures at Jamie to move closer and takes out his phone. “Come here, I’ll take a picture for Keeley. She’ll like it.”

Jamie obediently scoots over next to him and smiles for the camera, a broad grin that hasn’t changed since Jamie’s Richmond days, at least. Roy’s keeping that photo for himself, too, obviously, but he sends it on its way, and just a moment later gets a reply that’s an explosion of hearts and kissy faces.

Tell him he looks fucking fit! she says a moment later. Roy just turns his screen toward Jamie, who laughs.

“Tell her thanks and that she should send a pic, too, but it has to be decent because we’re in a restaurant.”

Playing the go-between is absolutely silly, but Roy does it, and a minute later he has a picture of Keeley, still in her work clothes, making a kissy face from their dinner table, where he’s relieved to see she’s eating an actual meal.

“Ah, she looks fucking great,” Jamie says. “Barely changed a bit since I met her, it’s mad.”

Roy nods, messaging back He says you look fucking great. Which you do. I’m happy you didn’t forget dinner. Love you. “She’s doing well. Works too hard, still, but not as bad as it was for a while there. Wish it hadn’t taken her getting so sick to get the message through, but it is what it is.”

Jamie nods, his smile fading, and Roy winces. None of their little circle like to bring up that awful winter when Keely ran herself into the ground and got pneumonia bad enough that Rebecca countermanded Roy and put the word out. Jamie had flown in and back out on a less-than-twenty-four-hour turnaround between matches. Ted had fucking come in from America. Roy had cried on Nate Shelley’s shoulder, of all fucking things. Worst few days of his life, before she started to mend.

“Definitely don’t need to do that again.” Jamie looks up as the waitress approaches their table. “Oh, bonjour, Léa. Could I have my usual? What do you want to drink, Roy?”

“Whatever he’s having,” Roy tells her, and she moves on, giving Jamie a distinctly heated look.

“You and her?” Roy asks, and Jamie covers his eyes with his hands.

“No! Not for lack of trying on her part. But her mum owns the place and I’ve seen her baby pictures. I can’t.”

Roy has to laugh. “Fucking strange when that starts happening, right?”

“So fucking strange. I brought Richard here, when he was in town, and he was like, Jamie, this is France, there’s no worry about having a fling with a beautiful woman, and she is a woman, not a young girl. But those baby pictures got me.”

“Understandable.”

“Weird not to be the young stupid one anymore. Some of the kids on the team…” He shakes his head. “They’re good lads. But some of the things they do.”

“Believe me, I know it. You should see the current group at Richmond. Very good lads, but…” He mimics Jamie’s head-shake and they both laugh as the waitress comes back with their drinks. “You order for both of us,” Roy tells Jamie, and sips his drink as Jamie does.

“Sorry I’m not more creative than steak frites,” Jamie says as the waitress walks away again. “But it’s really very good here.”

“I trust your judgment.” Roy plays with his phone, then pushes it away. “So do you think you’ll stay here?”

“When?”

“After your current contract.”

“Ah.” Jamie settles back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. My deal is up end of this season. The strikers they’ve got coming up after me are starting to hit their strides. I don’t think they’ll need me. I’ll probably either get one more year or a polite suggestion that I go do a victory lap somewhere else.”

“Back in England?”

Jamie shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think I’d like that. I have to talk to my agent about what inquiries she’s had.”

Roy takes a sip, holding it on his tongue for a beat before swallowing. “Sign with Richmond.”

Jamie laughs. “What?”

“Why not? It’s not a bad place to do a victory lap.”

That look again, seeing deep into Roy’s chest, too wise to be Jamie. “Are you trying to turn back the clock, Roy?”

“No. I’m really not.” Roy shrugs, putting his hand palm-up on the table, half-outstretched to Jamie. “I’m just thinking about what I’d like my life to look like going forward. And there’s stuff I’d like to be there. If it’s possible. Might not be, I know. But having a few old friends around wouldn’t kill me. Other than Rebecca, I mean. She’s not going anywhere. She’s made that clear.”

Jamie’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fuck you and your old friends bit. You just want to boss me around the pitch again.”

“Help me keep up with these fucking children we’ve got now. They’re babies. They’re stupid. I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re Roy fuckin’ Kent, you tell them off on the daily and they love it.”

“Not quite that simple. But… more or less.” Roy lifts his glass and drinks, and one way or another his gaze meets Jamie’s, and it’s—dizzying, for a minute. Different and the same. Then and now. All of it colliding in his head.

“We’re going back to mine after this, aren’t we?” Jamie asks softly, and it’s not really a question. Roy nods. “You’ve got the okay from Keeley?”

“Yeah,” Roy says, his voice thick. “She brought it up before I did.”

“’s cause she’s smarter than you.” Jamie takes a drink, too, his gaze drifting away for a moment and then coming back to Roy’s like it’s being guided. “And me, for that matter. So if she thinks it’s a good idea, why argue?”

**

Much to Roy’s surprise, Jamie’s living in a flat. A luxury one, but still.

“Saying I’ve got a flat in Paris is a lot less weird than saying I’ve got a house there.” Jamie shrugs as he swipes his key fob to get them into his fancy building. “My investment people were furious, they said buying a flat to sell when I go home instead of a house was leaving money on the table, but what do I fucking care? I’ve got money. I’d be lonely in a whole house by myself.”

Roy thinks about pointing out that he didn’t have to be there by himself—plenty of potential partners in the Parisian sea—but he remembers Jamie’s story about his ex and keeps quiet. Besides, they’re in the lift going up to Jamie’s sure to be ridiculous flat and he has to brace himself for that.

Jamie unlocks the door and Roy makes the appropriate, appreciative sound at the sight of the view over whatever part of the city this is. “Be right back,” Jamie says, turning down a hallway, and Roy stays there in the main room, studying Jamie’s decorating.

It’s sleek and modern and minimalist, like his old place in London, and everything distinctly shows the hand of a designer at work instead of a person letting his personality go on display. There’s one set of shelves in the corner that Roy gravitates to, because it’s got photos on it and he’s pretty sure he sees a Transformer model or two. Maybe this is the corner Jamie was allowed for himself, other than the Richmond throw folded up on the sofa.

The pictures do a good job of making Roy’s chest clench up. One from the game where they got promoted back to the Premier League, Roy’s first year of coaching. One of Jamie smiling with Ted, another of him and Sam and Dani all standing with their arms around each other. Jamie’s nursing a wicked black eye in that one, and Roy remembers the match in question well, how Jamie had played the prick so well he’d drawn a full-on punch in the face and a red card on the other bloke, taking Man U’s best defenseman off for the rest of the match.

There are photos not from Richmond, of course—Jamie with various mates, with his mum, with one of his old City Academy friends. The team photo from his first year here at PSG.

And then one that makes Roy’s chest threaten to close up entirely.

Himself, Jamie, and Keeley, at Roy and Keeley’s wedding. Deliberately scheduled outside of football season, with time for everyone to get a holiday in before and some rest time after while Roy and Keeley vanished to an undisclosed location. Jamie had begged off being in the wedding party on somewhat spurious grounds, but he was there on the day, led the applause, led the toasts. And posed for this fucking photo with them. And not only kept it but got it fucking printed and framed.

Jamie fucking Tartt. He’s going to be the death of Roy if he isn’t careful. But he’s done being careful, isn’t he?

Jamie comes back into the room, his jacket gone and the top button of his shirt undone. “You want another drink? I’ve got the basics.”

“No, I’m good.” Roy holds his hand out toward him. “Come here?”

Jamie crosses the room obediently, eyebrows raised, a hopeful smile playing at his lips. “Right down to it, then, Roy-o?”

“Shut it.” Roy draws him in and kisses him, closing his eyes as Jamie groans against his mouth. So this is what it is. This is the thing he’d lost for all those years.

Fuck.

Jamie pulls back after a minute, studying Roy’s face. “Well?”

Roy nods and traces Jamie’s jaw carefully. “Yeah.”

Jamie’s smile grows. “You want to come back to the bedroom, then? The hip’s in good shape from physio today, but couch sex might still be a bit much.”

Roy leans in and kisses him again. “Lead the way.”

**

It has been a long time since Roy woke up in bed with anyone but Keeley. The body next to him this morning is very much not her; too solid, too big. Too fucking warm, this person’s a furnace, while Keeley is always cold and snuggles up to Roy for warmth in the night.

He lifts his head and squints and oh, right. Jamie.

Jamie’s lying on his stomach, head turned toward Roy, still asleep with his lips parted. His hair’s a mess. It’s impossibly cute.

Roy sits up slowly, careful not to jostle him, and eases out of the bed to go use the loo. He splashes water on his face after, curling his lip at himself in the mirror. Should’ve thought this through, how to handle the morning after.

When he comes back into the bedroom, Jamie’s awake, turned on his back and watching sleepily. “Bonjour,” he says.

Roy makes a face at him. “None of that shit.”

Jamie laughs. “Come back here.”

Part of Roy wants to insist on coffee first, but the blankets have slipped enough for him to see one of the marks he left on Jamie’s chest last night, and that reels him back into the bed to pin Jamie down and kiss him.

“Mm.” Jamie sighs and grins up at him. “Thanks for not sneaking off in the night.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You’ve got a perfectly nice hotel room, maybe you wanted to get back to it.” Jamie shrugs, still smiling. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“We can spend tonight there.” Roy surprises himself, saying it; apparently overnight he decided to take Keeley’s permission to stay an extra day without even realizing.

Jamie’s brow furrows. “Thought you were only here til this evening.”

“Changed my mind.” He doesn’t even know if the hotel will give him an extra night. This is ridiculous. But it can wait til later, anyway, because he needs to kiss Jamie some more.

“Are you hungry?” Jamie asks a while later, squirming under him. Not trying to escape, Roy can tell; just trying to find room for both of their limbs. “There’s a boulangerie in one direction and a pâtisserie in the other.”

“What’s the fucking difference?”

“Boulangerie bakes bread on-site.” Jamie shrugs at Roy’s look. “The French have rules, mate. I just try to follow them.”

Roy thinks for a moment. “I could go for bread.”

“All right, we’ve got a plan, then.” Jamie touches Roy’s lips gently. “You have to let me up so I can shower, though.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Jamie shrugs again. “Then we stay here til we starve, I guess.”

“Not the worst way to go.” Roy lets himself linger for another moment, then sits up. “Right. Shower for you, coffee for me.”

“Or you could shower with me, and we’ll get coffee at the boulangerie. Which is much better than what you’ll get out of my machine, even though it’s fancy and French and shit too.”

“Your shower’s big enough for two?”

Jamie grins and gets out of bed, treating Roy to the lovely view of his back and bare arse. “That’s my first priority in picking a place.”

They don’t actually use all of that room in the shower, because they stay pretty close together the whole time. It would be embarrassing, if Roy had the higher brain functions allotted to embarrassment right now. All he wants to do is touch Jamie, kiss Jamie, jerk Jamie off under the ridiculously good water pressure.

The whole day is some kind of rom-com blur out of one of Ted’s fantasies. They eat at the boulangerie. They walk through Jamie’s neighborhood looking at the fucking flowers and all. Jamie takes him shopping for things for himself, since he’s got Keeley covered. Roy calls the hotel and finds that they cannot, in fact, give him another night, so they go pick up his stuff and haul it back to Jamie’s flat.

He does grab time to call Keeley, who is extremely amused that it took him this long to do it. “I knew Jamie was going to keep you busy, but I thought one of you would need a break before now.”

“Mean, cruel woman.” Roy rubs his face and glances toward the kitchen, where Jamie’s making tea. “No, it’s been good. Lovely, really.”

“I’m glad. And I’m glad you’re taking the extra night. I miss you, but you two need to figure out if this is a thing or just… a thing.”

“Not going to clarify any more than that?”

“Nope.” She laughs. “Put him on the phone, though, it’s ridiculous that I haven’t talked to him yet.”

Jamie comes in with the tea, and Roy holds the phone out to him. “She wants to talk to you.”

That sends him all wide-eyed. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, she’s extremely happy that her bullshit all worked out.” Roy takes one mug and replaces it in Jamie’s hand with the phone. “You’ll have to deal with some gloating.”

He can hear Keeley’s giddy “Hiiiii, babe!” as Jamie puts the phone to his ear, and makes a tactical retreat to the sofa with his tea. Jamie blushes and smiles through the call, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he talks to her. Roy does his best not to eavesdrop, though probably neither of them would care.

He does tune in when he hears Jamie saying, “Yeah, we’ve got a few Champions League matches in London. Think there’s one next month at Arsenal. Not sure what our schedule in and out will look like but I’ll see if I can—well I don’t get to choose our charter flights, Keeley.” He laughs softly. “But I’ll check with the logistics people tomorrow and see if they’ve got it planned yet. See what I can do. I do want to see you, yeah. Promise. Okay. I’ll tell him. Bye.”

He tosses the phone back to Roy. “She says you have to be nice to me and buy me dinner again.”

“You two are fucking dangerous.” Roy shakes his head. “She’s trying to get you into a visit?”

“Yeah, or at least dinner when we’re in London. I’ll try. You want tickets to the match, too?”

“Course.” He points at the cushion next to him and Jamie rolls his eyes before coming over to join him on the sofa. “VIP if you can swing it.”

“Obviously. Roy Kent can’t sit among the masses.”

“Especially at Arsenal. They’ll skin me alive.” Roy sets his mug down on the coffee table and turns to face Jamie, studying him carefully. He looks relaxed, happy. He’s wearing a worn-out hoodie and a loose pair of trackies, holding a cup of tea, smiling at Roy like he’s trying to guess what’s going to happen next.

Roy doesn’t know if he’s predictable or not. Not terribly so, by the way Jamie’s eyes widen when Roy eases himself off the sofa and onto his knees on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Jamie reaches out and cups Roy’s face in his hand. “Get back up here, you can’t kneel like that.”

“What good was the fucking surgery if I can’t?” Roy counters. “Stop arguing and get your kit off.”

“How can you boss me around and want to suck my cock? That’s, like. Mixing roles.” Jamie lifts his hips and pushes his trackies and briefs down even as he’s objecting.

“If Keeley can do it, so can I.” Maybe it should feel strange, evoking Keeley while they’re doing this. Technically he’s cheating on her, isn’t he? But with her full enthusiasm and permission, so… maybe not. He should have paid more attention when she was reading all of those books about nonmonagamy. He should have paid attention to the fact that she was reading them at all.

He leans in and buries his face in Jamie’s lap for a moment, breathing in the warm thick scent of him. Jamie’s hand moves gently over Roy’s head, curving against his skull, stroking his hair gently, until Roy abruptly can’t stand being still anymore and has to move to take Jamie in his mouth.

Jamie makes the most gorgeous noises. Roy heard them last night, of course, but he takes his time and revels in them now. Jamie pulls his hand away, curling it into a fist at his hip, and Roy wonders what it would be like if he didn’t, if he let himself push or tug or whatever he wants to do. Not this time, but—if there’s another. He’ll tell Jamie he can try. See if it works for them.

Jamie comes in Roy’s mouth and Roy rests his forehead on Jamie’s inner thigh while he catches his breath. Jamie starts petting him again, his hand unsteady but so fucking warm.

“Roy,” he says, his voice thick with emotion Roy couldn’t begin to identify if he had to. “Fucking… fuck. Roy.”

Roy kisses the closest bit of skin and looks up at him. “Jamie?”

Jamie shakes his head and bites his lip and oh. That’s what a kick to the heart feels like. “You’re going back to London tomorrow.”

“It’s not that fucking far away. Think about all the times we invaded this place. It’s very doable. And that was just with horses.”

“No, but I…” Jamie shakes his head. “It’s stupid that when we were in the same place we weren’t ready for this, and now that we are we’re in different places. And you and Keeley are fucking married. You’re going to adopt a kid. We’re only now getting around to this and it’s too late for it.”

“What are you talking about?” Roy puts his hands on Jamie’s knees, squeezing a bit until Jamie looks at him. “Being married just means whichever one dies first gives the other one all their stuff. You think Keeley sticks to the script? She was the one who figured this out first, remember?”

“But when you have a kid—”

“Mums and dads are still allowed to fucking have hobbies.”

Jamie chokes on his breath. “Did you just call me a hobby?”

“Well—yes, but not like that!” Roy groans. “You know I shouldn’t be allowed to talk.”

“Yeah.” Jamie breathes out slowly. “I’ll need some time to think, all right?”

“Of course.” Roy knows he needs to stand up or his knee’s going to be unhappy, surgery or no. But it feels important that he not be standing over Jamie while they talk about this. “If you’re coming to London next month, that’s a good stretch to think, right? We can agree not to talk til then, and then talk about… all of it.”

“We don’t have to not talk at all. Could get a text thing going again. I have missed you guys.”

Roy blinks. “Oh, Keeley too?”

“Of course Keeley too, how do you think something like this works?”

“I’ve got no fucking idea.” He really does need to stand up now. He uses the coffee table to haul himself to his feet. “I need another tea. You want one?”

“God, please.” Jamie lets his head loll back against the sofa, and Roy wonders how long it’s going to take him to realize he hasn’t put his clothes back on. He’s not complaining about the view. But it’s a dangerous way to drink tea.

**

They do go out to dinner that night, to a restaurant Jamie says Sam turned him on to, a fusion of various North African cuisines. It’s very good, but it’s hard for Roy to concentrate on the dinner when he’s very aware of the clock ticking toward when he goes home.

Afterward Jamie suggests they take a walk, which Roy doesn’t know how to interpret at all. He doesn’t want to be alone with Roy? He doesn’t want to go to bed? He just wants some fucking air and it’s not about Roy at all?

The walk is very nice, because of course walking through a Parisian neighborhood full of restaurants and bars and little shops is nice. There are fucking fairy lights in the trees. Roy can hardly stand it.

Roy’s really lost track of where they are relative to Jamie’s flat; they could be walking back to it or they could still be half an hour away. He’s about to ask when Jamie gestures at a nearby bench and they sit down instead, looking up at what can be seen of the sky here in the city.

They’re quiet for a while, which is confusing. Roy’s comfortable with quiet, but as much as Jamie’s changed, he’s still kept up a fairly steady stream of conversation these last few days, not letting silence stretch out for long before he breaks it. Now, though, he seems content to sit and watch, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

“Are you all right?” Roy asks after a while, and Jamie starts, blinking at him.

“Course. Why do you ask?”

Roy shrugs. “You’re quiet.”

“Oh.” Jamie ducks his head, looking down the line of his own body at his shoes. “Just… saving the moment, and all. Don’t want to forget.”

“Never been accused of being forgettable.”

That gets a smile and an eye-roll. “Fishing for compliments now?”

“Trying to get you to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jamie looks at him, mouth twisted in a smile that’s more wry than happy. “What are the chances of you changing your mind?”

“Changing my mind about what?”

“Roy.”

Roy shakes his head. “I never change my mind about that, once it’s made up.”

“What if Keeley changes her mind?” Jamie’s voice goes very soft, asking that. Roy still can’t sort out what the hell Jamie feels about Keeley. He’s barely brought her up, but when he does it’s either in that soft way or making a joke about how she’s smarter than both of them, and the boss of both of them, and things like that.

“She’s never changed her mind about you.”

“She bloody well did, I remember it, I was there.”

“No.” Roy shakes his head again. “She broke up with you, she didn’t change her mind about you. She never stopped being fucking fond, not for a minute. Not even when I tried to get her to.”

“There’s a difference between being fond and being willing to…” Jamie trails off, to Roy’s despair, because that might have been a clarifying fucking sentence. Instead he’s still just left to wonder.

He slips his arm around Jamie’s waist, and Jamie turns toward him, pressing his body up against Roy’s and hiding his face against Roy’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he says after a moment. “I’m just a bit… worked up, I guess.”

“This has all moved fairly fucking fast.” Roy holds him, hoping that says enough. “I understand you needing time to think.”

Jamie huffs against his neck. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

Roy nods. He is. He has to get back to work, to Keeley, to Phoebe, to life.

“What if that’s it?” Jamie asks. “What if this has just been a weird dream? What if I have to go back to being okay with probably never seeing you again?”

“Whoever said anything about never seeing each other again?” What the hell has been going on while Roy wasn’t paying attention?

Another frustrated huff. “Well, it wasn’t formally stated, but it’s just what things seemed like, it was kind of how I’d think of it. Don’t have expectations and you can’t be disappointed, you know?”

“Fucking hell.” Roy shakes his head. “You know you also could’ve picked up the phone.”

“No I couldn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Jamie sits up enough to look at him, but not enough to dislodge his arm. “Think about it from my shoes, Roy. Just try for a minute.”

Roy does, and it takes a few minutes, but he thinks maybe he can get to where Jamie’s coming from.

The way things were their time together at Richmond—Roy’s tackle in that final relegation game—Keeley—Roy coaching—Jamie having to humble himself for Roy to coach him—Jamie leaving for Paris—the wedding—the hospital—

Jamie’s watching him, a twisted little smile on his mouth. “The junior bloke on the team can’t go around asking for things, mate,” he says. “Got to wait for the big lads to come around to him, you know?”

Roy swallows hard. “I’m going to tell Keeley you called her a big lad.”

“Fuck off.” Jamie laughs and puts his head on Roy’s shoulder again. “But you see? A bit?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Thank you.” Jamie takes a deep breath and gets to his feet, gently disentangling himself from Roy’s hold. “Come on, then. Let’s get back to the flat. We’ve got, what, twelve more hours? Let’s not waste them.”

Roy falls in step with him, letting Jamie set the course down the street. Roy truly does have no idea where they are. “Just to be clear, we’re still going to bed together?”

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Jamie glances at him with a grin. “Being afraid I might get my heart broken tomorrow didn’t mean I wasn’t going to make you shag my brains out tonight.”

“The fuck, am I just a body to you?” Roy asks, but they’re both laughing, and Jamie’s hand brushes Roy’s as they walk, and it’s all right.

**

Roy sleeps through the trip back to London. All the stress and nerves he’s been pushing aside catch up to him at once, and he actually gets jostled awake by the other travelers disembarking at the station. He gathers up his things and makes his way to where Keeley always waits for him. He can see her sitting behind the wheel of her car with a cup of coffee in her hands and knows there will be another waiting in the cupholder for him.

She bounces out of the car when he approaches, meeting him for a kiss and hug and then helping him get his suitcase into the back before they head home. They hold hands over the console, and she doesn’t ask him specifics while she’s driving, because she gets him, just like she always has.

At home, though. As soon as she’s sure that he doesn’t need food or a shower, the interrogation begins.
“I’m not giving you a position-by-position breakdown,” he says, and she immediately starts pouting like it’s the most unfair thing he’s ever said. “Can’t we just leave it at—” He falters, feeling himself turning red. “We both had a very nice time?”

“Just one nice time?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Because I don’t believe that.”

“Several very nice times. Over a few days. Yes.” He picks up one of the throw pillows and hugs it to his chest, habit after all this time. “He needs some time to think, but he’ll be here next month for that match, and we’ll do dinner. Until then we can text a bit and chat but not talk about anything serious.”

She nods, all teasing gone. “That’s smart. And we’ll need to do some thinking and talking, too. Practicalities. Boundaries. All that.”

“I thought you’d already figured that out. You said you were fine with... whatever, while I was there.”

“Well, yeah, Roy. As a one-off. But if you two are going to date, even long distance, we need to hammer out the details.” She seems cheerful about it. Maybe it’s not as grim as he thinks it sounds like.

“Are you going to date him too?” he asks.

“I don’t have time to date anyone.” She rolls her eyes and he deliberately does not say anything. Keeley’s work schedule is the only thing they’ve really, genuinely fought over in years. “But I do want to be better friends with him. Talk more. I want to be an active metamour, if you two decide to be partners.”

“A fucking what?”

“Metamour,” she says. “I wouldn’t be dating him, he’s a step removed from me—that's the meta part—but you’re my partner and his partner and that means there’s a level of connection there that needs to be healthy and respectful.”

Roy’s head hurts. “It’s a fucking stupid word.”

“Well, make up your own if you don’t like it.” She leans in and kisses his forehead. “I just want to make sure we’re all good with each other.”

“If I didn’t think we would be, I wouldn’t even be thinking about this.” It’s mad. He shouldn’t be thinking about it anyway. But now that he’s seen Jamie, he’s not sure he knows how to go back to how it was.

Of course, Jamie could still say no, and then Roy won’t have a choice but to figure it out.

He rests his head against Keeley’s shoulder, dragging in deep breaths while she rubs gently at his back. “You’re okay, babe,” she murmurs. “You are. No matter what happens, we’ll be fine. We always are, yeah?”

That’s true. He nods and sits up, offering her his hands. “Upstairs for a nap, maybe?”

“If you want cuddling you can just ask for it, Mr. Kent.” She gets up and helps him to his feet. “I’ll always say yes.”

**

Jamie gets permission to leave the team and have dinner with Roy and Keeley the night before PSG plays Arsenal. The three of them message back and forth furiously a few days before he’ll be coming in, trying to decide if they’re going out to dinner or having Jamie over to the house. I’d like to come to the house, he says, but you have to tell me where the house is.

It’s strange to realize they haven’t seen him in person since before they bought their current place and moved out of Keeley’s old one. It feels like no time has passed, and it feels even longer than it really has been, at the same time.

Keeley takes charge, of course. Right, dinner at ours it is! I’ll send you the address. Any preferences? I’ll order in, pick something you’ve been missing since you’ve been away.

The evening of, Roy wishes he’d offered to cook, instead. It would give him something to do, keep him busy, instead of jittering around the house waiting. He hates waiting.

“Babe,” Keeley says patiently from the sofa. “It’s Jamie. It will be fine.”

“What if he’s done his thinking and he wants nothing to do with us?”

“Then he wouldn’t have agreed to come to dinner.” She shrugs at his look. “Jamie doesn’t put himself in painful situations for no reason. He would’ve politely canceled the whole thing.”

“So he at least wants to stay friends?”

“I think so.” She tilts her chin up at him. “Do I need to freshen up my lipstick?”

Looking at her mouth is always very distracting, but he has learned how to evaluate her makeup after all this time. “Yes, a little bit.”

“Thank you much.” She walks down the hall toward her powder room, and Roy goes back to pacing around the house, staring irritably at their own photos and mementos. He never noticed before that Keeley has the same photo of the three of them at the wedding framed and sitting on one of their shelves. How did he miss that?

Their stupid security system beeps when someone pulls in the drive, so Roy knows when Jamie’s taxi pulls up. He goes to get the door, watching Jamie climb out of the car and tip the driver. Jamie’s wearing another of those perfectly tailored suits, and he’s got a bottle of wine in his hand. Looks like he’s stepping out of an advert.

Roy opens the door and Jamie grins at him, waving his free hand. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Not at all. Come in.” Roy isn’t sure if he can touch Jamie, if he can lean in for a kiss or even a hug, if he should offer a handshake. If he shouldn’t do anything. Fuck, why is this so confusing?

Fortunately Jamie saves him, leaning in and hugging him with his free arm, then pressing a careful, close-mouthed kiss to Roy’s mouth. “Good to see you,” he says softly.

“Good to see you too.” Roy lets himself catch Jamie’s hand and squeeze it carefully. “Let me take that wine. You didn’t have to bring anything, you were traveling.”

“It’s good, Keeley will love it. Where is she, anyway, can’t believe—”

“Jamie!” Keeley comes running down the hallway, arms outstretched, and Jamie laughs, meeting her halfway. “Oh my god, you’re here!”

“Hey.” He hugs her tightly, turning his face against her hair, and Roy falls back a step toward the kitchen. He doesn’t know what this feeling in his chest is. It’s not bad, but it’s not something he’s familiar with, either.

They’re lovely together, at least he can recognize that.

“Look at you!” Keeley steps back and looks Jamie over. “That suit! Those shoes! My god, Jamie Tartt!”

Jamie laughs more and turns a circle for her inspection. “Got a Parisian tailor making me bespoke, can you believe it?”

“Take those shoes off and give them to me. Fuck. Louboutins. I could fight you. Look at you.” She grins at him before carefully placing his shoes on the mat. “We’ll have to go up to my shoe closet after dinner. Need your eye on some things.”

“Like old times.” He grins back, then turns his gaze to Roy. “Gorgeous house. Can I take a look around?”

“Course.” Roy gestures vaguely toward the hallway. “There’s rooms. Stairs. More rooms up there.”

“Roy!” Keeley shakes her head. “Come on, Jamie, don’t mind him. I’ll show you properly. It’s too posh for us but we’re doing our best to bring the value down.”

“How many rooms have you painted bubblegum pink?” Jamie asks gravely.

“Three,” Roy says, trailing them down the hall. “Her powder room, her shoe room, and the room with the bathtub and skylight.”

Jamie whistles. “Fancy.”

“I can pretend I’m bathing under the stars. It’s fucking great.” Keeley shows Jamie around, chattering away happily, and Roy watches them, that same strange, not-bad feeling in his chest. Fortunately, before he has to figure it out the security system chimes again and he can retreat to meet the delivery bloke with their dinner.

Once they’re seated around the table with wine and food, the conversation turns a little more conventional. “How’s your mum?” Keeley asks, resting her chin on her hand. “Still in Manchester?”

“Yeah, she is. She’s well. I try to bring her over a few times a year, take her round the city. And I come back over the break. She’s retired now, and a little more willing to take some money from me to travel. She’s been some cool places. Sends me pictures.” Jamie’s eyes get so soft when he talks about his mum. “She’s happy, I think.”

“That’s great.” Keeley beams at him. “You’re a good son.”

Roy clears his throat. “And your dad?”

Keeley shoots him a sharp look, but Jamie doesn’t seem to mind. He shrugs. “Don’t know. When I signed with PSG he threw a fit, said if I was going to go play for the French he’d disown me. I pointed out he didn’t have anything to leave me anyway. We haven’t talked since.”

They sit in silence for a moment, until Keeley reaches for the bottle and tops up every glass. “Good for you.”

Jamie laughs. “It wasn’t why I signed in Paris, but it’s been a decent fringe benefit, I have to say.” He takes a drink and picks up his fork. “What about you, though? It’s been ages, tell me everything, how’s the business?”

“Oh, it’s just work.” She shakes her head. “It has been ages, though, hasn’t it? When was the last time you were here? Was it Rebecca’s party?”

“The birthday party that definitely was not a ‘Rupert’s gone to jail’ party?” Jamie bats his eyes innocently. They all remembered the elaborate story around that party, mostly because it was two months after Rebecca’s actual birthday. “That was the last time we saw each other properly, yeah. I was here again after that, but it was when you were in hospital. Doubt you remember seeing me.”

Keeley flushes, like she always does when someone brings up her getting sick. “I know you were there, Roy told me. It was good of you to come, but I’m sorry you got dragged all the way up here for that in the middle of the season.”

Roy bites his tongue and looks away, like he always does when someone brings up Keeley getting sick. He remembers the whole thing in bits and pieces, held together with suffocating fear.

A decent number of the old Richmond crew turned up at least once, and the ones who couldn’t come sent cards and flowers and filled Roy’s voicemail with messages. He never had been able to bring himself to listen to any of them. Fucking cowardly of him, but it was too hard.

He remembers Jamie getting to the hospital ridiculously early in the morning, hadn’t slept at all between playing a Ligue 1 match in Monaco and getting to London on the private jet of some member of PSG’s governing board. Roy was living at the hospital at that point, and his minders that morning were Nate and Isaac, retired with back problems but still more than able to put Roy in a chair and tell him to fucking close his eyes for half an hour if he wouldn’t go home and sleep.

Jamie had hugged them all one by one, stared at Roy for an agonized moment, asked How is she?. Roy couldn’t answer, just stared back, and it was Nate who had to take control of the mess and find a nurse to get permission for Jamie to go in and sit with her for a while so he and Isaac could try to get Roy to eat something.

They let Jamie sit with her a few times that day, since he’d have to get back on the jet that evening and fly to Germany for a Champions League match the next day. It meant Roy got a few hours more rest than he did most of the days at the hospital. Ate a little more, too. He doesn’t think he ever thanked Jamie for that, but they did hug before Jamie left that night, and he remembers promising to call as soon as anything changed, good or bad.

He doesn’t remember if he actually did or if someone else took charge of that. A lot of the hospital days are just sort of lost in his memory. But he does remember Jamie’s eyes, that first look when he got there and the last one before walked out to his taxi. The sick fear there, the anticipation of grief.

Jamie’s voice pulls him back to the present, now, safely at their own dinner table, Keeley healthy and well and happy. “Are you joking? Of course I came. Almost didn’t leave, I got all the way back to the airport and started to tell the plane crew to just go without me, I’d take the hit for missing the game.”

“I’m glad you didn’t! I never want you to do that!” Keeley shakes her head. “Jamie Tartt, you know better than that.”

“Why did you end up deciding to go?” Roy asks, his voice rough in his throat.

Jamie shrugs, looking down at his hands on the tablecloth. “Because I knew you’d both be pissed as hell at me if I did. Like she said. I knew better. Figured it was more respectful-like to go than to have you disappointed in me.”

“Jamie.” Keeley’s eyes fill up with tears and Roy has to look away from both of them. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to be at all.

Jamie clears his throat roughly and claps his hands. “Sorry. Fuck. Brought the mood down, didn’t I? You’re good now, you look fucking… incredible. We’ve got dinner and we’re all here and Roy and I are both only part cyborg, yeah?”

Keeley puts on her brightest smile, even though her eyes are still wet. “Absolutely. Yes. Believe me, I’ve got Rebecca and Roy and my assistant all on me all the time to make sure I don’t wear myself out again. Three-day weekends sometimes and actual holidays and if I work late too many days a month they physically walk me to my car at five-thirty. They’re terrible to me.”

“That’s good,” Jamie says sincerely. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I took Richmond’s break week off. We’re going somewhere with a beach, but Roy won’t tell me where.”

“That’s how surprises work, yes,” Roy says, swirling his wine in his glass. “I’ll just say I polled the players about where we should go.”

Jamie’s eyes narrow. “And then picked somewhere as far from any of their suggestions as possible?”

“Exactly.”

Conversation fades in favor of eating for a bit, until Jamie clears his throat again and looks at Keeley. “How’s the adoption stuff going? I don’t really know how it works, but I assume it’s complicated?”

“Fuck, it is.” She sighs and takes a drink. “Especially if you’re trying to do it ethically instead of just throwing money at people until they give you a baby. Ethics take forever.”

Jamie makes sympathetic noises and Roy pushes his food around his plate. This isn’t quite how he wanted it—there's too much tension in the room, too much strangeness. They were supposed to click back into place like puzzle pieces.

“This is weird,” Jamie says, so at least the two of them are on the same page. “Am I making it weird?”

“No, you’re not,” Keeley says before Roy can put together a thought. “Roy is very worried and he’s bringing the whole room down.”

“Keeley,” Roy protests, but Jamie’s looking at him, brow all furrowed up.

“Worried?” he echoes. “What are you worried about, Roy?”

Roy shrugs, staring at his plate so he doesn’t have to meet either of their eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.” Jamie sounds genuinely puzzled, and Roy has to look up at that.

“I don’t know what you’re going to say. About... all of this.” He gestures at himself, at Keeley, at the house. “Whether you want to... to try doing this or not.”

Jamie blinks. “What? Didn’t I... oh, I guess I didn’t. But I thought that was obvious. Since I’m here.”

Keeley presses her lips together for a moment, and Roy can tell she’s fighting a laugh. “Never assume anything’s obvious to Roy, Jamie, you know that.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Roy slumps in his chair. “I forgot that having you two together means you gang up on me.”

“You love it,” Keeley says, then looks at Jamie again. “Go on and tell him, then.”

“I want to try, Roy,” Jamie says gently. “I would’ve let you know before I got here if I didn’t, so you could cancel the whole thing if you were uncomfortable. Promise. I don’t want to put you in a bad place, ever.”

Roy holds his hand out and Jamie gets out of his chair, walking over and letting Roy pull him down into a kiss. It’s slow and careful and lingering, and when Jamie pulls away they both promptly look at Keeley, who’s smiling at them.

“That’s much better,” she says. “I endorse that. Jamie, are you staying the night?”

Jamie laughs. “Right down to business as ever, Keeley. I would love to, I would. But I’ve got a match tomorrow and it’s sort of important.”

“Fair enough.” She starts stacking the plates together. “Can you at least stay for some tea?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He watches her go to the kitchen and then looks at Roy again. “All right?”

“Better.” Roy gets up, too, and gathers things off the table as well. “You got tickets for us for tomorrow, right?”

“Course I did. They’ll be in your texts tomorrow morning.” He helps pick up some dishes, too. “I got some for Isaac and his oldest, too, you’ll be sitting with them. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Course not.” It’s always good to see Isaac, and Bella is a delight who has called Roy nothing but Coach since she started lisping her first words. “Anybody else?”

“Not this time.” Jamie sounds a little wistful. “I checked in with some of the lads but they were all busy. And I checked with Rebecca but she’s meeting with your bosses on the board.”

Roy makes a face. “At least she didn’t ask me to join in.”

“She knows better by now, mate.” Jamie grins at him and they head into the kitchen. “Now, Keels, tell me more about these shoes that need looking over.”

**

The tickets are on Roy’s phone in the morning as promised, and he and Keeley scan into Emirates without any problems. Jamie got them great seats, VIP as promised.

Isaac and Bella arrive soon after, and there are hugs all around before they all get settled in their seats. “Coach,” Bella says earnestly, and Roy turns his attention to her, baring his teeth a little. Seven-year-olds will never not love that.

Sure enough, she laughs at him before going on. “Guess what team I’m playing for when summer matches start up.”

“Hmm.” Roy tilts his head back and pretends to think. “PSG, like your Uncle Jamie?”

“No!” She laughs again. “I can’t go all the way to Paris just for summer footy!”

“What team, then?”

Bella beams, her grin almost as big as her dad’s. “The Lady Greyhounds under-sevens! Can you believe it? They picked me at the tryouts!”

“That’s great! You’re going to be a menace out there.” She is, actually. He’s seen her play since Isaac was able to stuff her feet into baby boots. She’s terrifying.

Keeley and Bella go to get food, and Roy glances at Isaac. “You pull some strings to get her in?”

“No.” Isaac shakes his head, still grinning. “They actually did call me, because they were worried it would make me look bad, they said they’d pass her off to another team if it would be weird for me, but I said I didn’t care. She’ll prove it on the pitch.”

“She will.” Roy nods in approval and looks out at the stadium. “How are things on your side of the building?”

Isaac’s on the coaching staff for the Lady Greyhounds under-23s. Probably make the women’s World Cup coaching team for England soon. He has a knack for coaching that Roy wishes he’d latched on to faster and dragged onto his own staff.

“Oh, we’re doing all right.” Isaac shifts in his seat and Roy winces in sympathy. A bad back is a misery all the fucking time. “Think we’re in good shape for Liverpool this week, bit more of a toss-up against Villa but we’re definitely not out of it. Looking at bringing in this Irish girl who’s an absolute killer. She could break Jamie’s ankles. Not just now, I mean, but in his prime.”

“Shut it,” Roy growls, and they both laugh, watching the man in question as the teams jog out for warmups. Jamie and his puppies—Roy can’t stop thinking of them like that now—keep close together, and Roy can see that Jamie’s talking almost the whole time. Maybe it’s to keep them from getting nervous in the unfamiliar space of Emirates, or maybe it’s just... Jamie.

The girls come back with the food and Isaac points Uncle Jamie out to Bella. Roy holds Keeley’s hand through all the pre-match nonsense, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles, and then things get started and he’s lost in watching.

The first half ends 1-1, and Jamie had an assist on PSG’s goal. Roy nods in approval and gets up to walk around and keep his knee from locking. Bella helps him carry the trash to a bin and make a little lap around their section before coming back to the seats, where Keeley’s engrossed in her phone.

“Look, babe.” She turns the screen to Roy and he sees a text from Phoebe, informing them that Sky’s camera was on the four of them at one point in the match, with the announcers calling Roy Richmond manager and Premier League legend Roy Kent and speculating on if Isaac was going to join him on the men’s side with the Greyhounds.

“No,” Bella says firmly, “Daddy has to stay with the girls’ team until he can coach me.” And that’s just too precious for words, isn’t it, enough that Roy even forgets about the match for a few minutes.

The second half is more intense, with Arsenal’s defenders taking a few runs at Jamie that make Roy clench his fists in his lap. Jamie dodges all of them, though, and assists on another goal that leads PSG to a 3-2 victory. Roy’s torn between being pleased on behalf of Jamie and annoyed on behalf of England. Jamie definitely has to come back to an English club.

Isaac grins at him as they stand up to leave the stadium. “Remember back in the day, bruv, Jamie would have been furious to come out of a match with two assists.”

“Ha. He would. Things change when your body starts giving out.”

“That’s the truth.” Isaac sighs. “He still looks good, though. Fucker.”

“Daddy,” Bella scolds, before Keeley takes her hand and walks off to the ladies’ with her. Roy and Isaac lean against a wall to wait for them, watching the crowd swirl by.

“Jamie’s contract is up,” Roy says, careful not to look at Isaac but knowing Isaac is looking at him. “I ran the idea of coming back to Richmond by him.”

“Oh?” When did Isaac learn how to keep his voice that neutral? “What did he say?”

“Well, he has to take it to his agent.”

“Right.” Isaac’s quiet for a moment, then starts to laugh, which is so far from what Roy expected that he turns to face him. “Roy Kent, mate, did you finally get your fucking head on straight? Has Dani won twelve thousand pounds?”

“What?” Roy gawks at him, which is not a thing he’s used to doing. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s the current betting pool on you finally realizing what the rest of us have known for years. Fuck. He’s going to be such a shit about this.” Isaac digs his phone out. “I’ve got to tell the lads right now.”

“You were taking bets?” He’s not sure if he’s shocked or angry or what.

Isaac shrugs, eyes on the screen. “What else were we supposed to do? Not like we could talk to you about it, you don’t listen. And it’s not like Jamie knew either. We told him to just make a move, a bunch of times, but he had this whole speech about respecting you and Keeley and your relationship.” He glances up with a stern look that actually makes Roy freeze up a bit. “The wedding was a little hard on him, bruv.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

Isaac rolls his eyes and goes back to typing, leaving Roy to stew in his feelings until Bella and Keeley come back. Bella’s face is now wet with tears, for inexplicable child reasons, so they say their goodbyes and Isaac scoops her up to carry her the rest of the way out of Emirates. Roy and Keeley hold hands again and find their way along more slowly.

Their phones go off at the same time with a group message from Jamie. How much would it bother you if I told the manager I’m finding my own way back, get a ticket for in the morning, and crash at yours tonight?

Roy stares at the message, then at Keeley, and is just opening his mouth when their phones buzz in unison again. I don’t want to go yet. Is that all right?

Keeley answers, because Roy feels like he’s caught in some kind of science-fiction-movie vortex and just can’t. Of course!!! Stay as long as you want, never go back to Paris!

A smiley face pops up, followed by All of my things are there so I do have to go back but not til tomorrow then!!! Thank you. I’ll get a car when they let me go!

Keeley sends back a kissy-face and tucks her phone in her purse, then turns a broad smile at Roy. “I suppose that means I’m in the guest room tonight? Oh, Roy.” She laughs and lifts up on her toes to kiss him. “Don’t tear yourself up, babe. Just concentrate on the good thing now, all right? He doesn’t want to leave you. Let yourself like that.”

Roy doesn’t know how to do that, but... he’ll try. For her, and for Jamie. He’ll try.

**

Jamie knocks on the door when Roy’s in the middle of making dinner, so Keeley goes to let him in. Roy can’t seen the entryway from the kitchen, but he knows her well enough to know she’s greeting Jamie with a long hug.

“You looked great out there, Jay,” she says, the two of them walking to sit at the barstools by the kitchen island and watch Roy work. Jamie’s wearing a set of team sweats and looks tired but happy, standard for after a winning match.

“How were the seats?” he asks, rocking the stool back and forth. It’s on the tip of Roy’s tongue to tell him to stop that, he’ll scuff the floor, but he bites down on it and turns away. One night of scuffs won’t hurt anything. “Did Isaac and Bella have fun?”

“The seats were great and I think so, yes.” Keeley rests her chin in her hand and pushes the salt toward Roy before he even has to search for it. “She ended the day in tears because she got water on her jacket when she was washing her hands, but I think it was actually because she was tired.”

“I know the feeling.” Jamie smiles a little and jerks his chin toward Roy. “Now, what did you think of me out there, Coach?”

Roy rolls his eyes and turns to stir his sauce. “You did well. You’ve gotten so much better at judging space. And you have those two wingers of yours on a string, don’t you? They’re a couple of big puppies but you know how to direct them.”

Jamie laughs out loud, tilting his head back. “Puppies? Oof, mate, that’s going to hurt their feelings.”

“They’ll live.” He tastes the sauce and adds another pinch of salt. “They looked good out there, too. Not that they’ll give a shit what I think.”

“Oh, no, they both really admire you. Michel asks me for Roy Kent stories all the time and Josep reads every interview you give ten times, like there’s a secret code in there. If you ever write a memoir he might lose his mind.”

Roy glances back at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve found yourself another Pep?”

It’s Jamie’s turn to roll his eyes, still grinning. “He actually refuses to use the nickname for that very reason. Josep or his family name only, he’s not having any comparisons.”

“Good lad.”

Keeley’s watching them with a little smile, her eyes soft, and Jamie blushes when he notices. “What’s that look for, Keels?”

“I’m glad you’re back, babe. I’ve missed you.” She reaches out to brush his hair back and press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s been a really long time and I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t.” He catches her hands in his and looks at them. “I was avoiding, too. I just… it was hard. I didn’t know what to say.”

“I’m so glad you’re here now, anyway. And so is he, even if he won’t say it.”

“I know he is.” Jamie smiles, deliberately not looking at Roy. Roy can tell it’s deliberate. So he still knows how to read Jamie pretty well.

“Isaac said the wedding was hard for you,” he says, and Jamie immediately drops Keeley’s hands, his face going red. “I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Let’s please not talk about that.” Jamie shakes his head. “It was stupid. I should’ve just… said I couldn’t go. I knew it, everyone else knew it, the lads told me to just not go if I wasn’t going to talk to you both… it was stupid.”

Keeley looks stricken. “I didn’t know it hurt you. I’ve always been so glad you were there, but I didn’t think about—oh, Jamie.”

“Please,” Jamie says, a little desperately. “I’m here now, right? Can we please not? Just… have a drink and eat dinner and enjoy the next ten or twelve hours before I’ve got to get back to Paris.”

Keeley nods, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. “We can do that, yeah. Right, Roy?”

“I’m never going to argue about not talking about something.” He puts the pan in the oven and bangs the door closed harder than it really needs. “You said drinks, Jamie? Beer or wine? We’ve not got anything harder in the house, I don’t think.”

“Beer’s fine,” Jamie says, giving him a look of relief. Keeley nods for one, too, and Roy lines up three bottles on the counter and pops each cap in succession.

“New topic,” Roy says after they’ve all had a few swallows. “Have you talked to your agent yet?”

“She’s going to call the Richmond office and do her inquiries.” Jamie shrugs. “I didn’t know how much you’d told operations so I just asked her to do some typical feeling around.”

Keeley snorts. “The operations side jumps at Roy’s bidding.”

“They do not.” Roy shakes his head. “Higgins is half-time these days and the woman who’s going to take over for him is scary as fuck. Aisha. You’ll like her. They just listen to me because they know I’m right.”

“I’m sure that’s not how they put it, babe.” Keeley downs the rest of her beer. “But yeah, if Roy tells them he wants you back, they’ll agree to pretty much whatever your agent asks for, I’m sure.”

“I won’t take advantage. Rebecca wouldn’t have any problem giving me a bollocking if I did.” Jamie shifts in his seat and winces. “Roy, I don’t suppose you keep any good-sized ice packs around these days? Hip’s getting a bit achy.”

“Do I keep ice packs around. In all sizes.” Roy goes to the freezer and finds him one. “Do you need any painkillers?”

“No, they shoot me up with the good stuff before the match and then I need to rest my liver the rest of the fucking day.” Jamie shifts around to get the pack where he needs it and sighs in relief. “Thanks. Don’t look like that, Keeley. I’ll get another surgery when I retire that’ll make it feel much better but I wouldn’t be able to play on it.”

Her disapproval is still very clear, but Keeley’s had this fight too many times to have it again, and she nods. “Would it be better if we moved to the couch?”

“Probably, if Roy doesn’t mind.”

“We’ve got another half-hour cooking time.” Roy picks up his beer and Jamie’s. “Go on, then.”

Getting settled on the couch together is weirdly intimate, in a way it wasn’t the night before. Maybe because they all know Jamie’s staying, this time, and because they started the discussion the night before that they probably ought to finish now.

Keeley kicks it off, of course. “Right. Jamie. Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page about this.”

Jamie nods slowly, running his thumbnail under the edge of the label on his beer. “All right. Tell me your page and I’ll say if it matches up.”

“Well.” She sits up straight, face going serious in the adorable way that still makes Roy’s heart flip around in his chest. “Roy’s your boyfriend, and my husband, and you and I are friends but not dating, so we’re metamours.”

“Whatamours?”

“Metamours. He’s your paramour and I’m your metamour. Because we’re not directly connected, but one step off. Right?”

Jamie looks utterly baffled, but he mouths the word and nods. “Okay. If that’s what it’s called. Does that mean you and I don’t have sex, then?”

Roy’s eyes go to Keeley, but she just laughs. “Friends have sex all the time, babe! It can just be all three of us together if you or Roy aren’t comfortable with the two of us one on one.”

Jamie’s eyes dart to Roy, now. “What do you think?”

Roy nods and takes a drink. “I don’t mind. I guess I hadn’t thought about it, just assumed you two would do whatever you wanted.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Jamie presses, and Roy shakes his head.

“I trust you both. Obviously. I mean, we’re here, aren’t we?”

“Right.” Jamie looks off into space, his brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, Keeley, I don’t get it, what part of that isn’t dating, then, if we’re friends who also have sex?”

“No romantic stuff, babe. Not the emotional side.”

“But you do all kinds of emotional stuff as a friend, for everybody.”

Keeley frowns a little. “That’s… true.”

“I don’t get it,” Jamie says sincerely, and Roy starts to laugh.

“She just wants all the benefits of a relationship without doing any of the work, I think, right, Keeley?”

She gives him the two-fingered salute and tosses her hair. “Like I haven’t done all the work of getting you two to fucking talk to each other about this. Fuck right off, Roy Kent.”

Jamie still looks bemused, but he shrugs. “Whatever you want to call it, then, Keeley, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to talk to you about things.”

“I can’t be a go-between for you and Roy when you have problems,” she says, catching Jamie’s hand. “But anything else? Never hesitate a minute. Even if it’s three in the morning.”

“I can wake you up?” He widens his eyes dramatically. “Nobody’s allowed to wake you up.”

“What is this, be mean to Keeley hour? You two are terrible.” She gets to her feet and kisses each of them on the forehead. “I need another beer if you’re going to be like this.”

While she’s doing that, Jamie leans against Roy’s side, melting into him slowly until Roy slips his arm around Jamie’s waist to keep him from entirely falling over. “All right?”

“Tired.” Jamie exhales slowly and settles his head on Roy’s shoulder. “I promise you’ll get a shag tonight but it might not be my best work.”

“I don’t need sex. Just glad you’re here.” Glad to be touching him. Glad Jamie wants to be with him at all.

“I want sex,” Jamie says, a ghost of his old pout appearing. “I’m just tired and this stupid hip makes some things tricky. My hip and your knee, it’s going to be like birds fucking.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Neither do I, I heard it somewhere and thought it was something people say. Maybe not.” Jamie sighs again. “See, this is one thing you have to know about me now. I bitch and whine all the time.”

“You always did.” Roy strokes his hair soothingly even as he says it. “Besides, look who you’re talking to.”

Keeley comes back with her beer and a grin. “I was going to say. You two are champs in that area. Babe, I checked the food and I think it’s actually almost done.”

Roy gets up to check, and he can hear Keeley and Jamie start to talk softly to each other as he steps away. It’s cozy. It’s good. Whether the two of them are dating or not, paramours or metamours or… friends with benefits or whatever the fuck, he’s so glad that they can be together like this too. All three of them in one place, the way it should be. The way it always should have been.

**

Keeley sends the two of them to the main bedroom and takes the guest room for herself. “You need space and access to the supplies,” she says cheerfully. “I’ll just pop in for my vibrator and leave you to it.”

“We should get that done in calligraphy and put it on the wall.” Roy shakes his head at her. “You’re a menace.”

“You’re lucky to have me and you know it.” She finds what she needs, winks at them, and sashays out the door. “Have a good night, boys!”

Jamie laughs softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “She really is a menace, you’re not wrong.”

“We really don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel up to it. She will survive without eavesdropping on us.”

“I told you, I want to.” Jamie holds his hand out. “Come over here.”

Roy does, and Jamie pulls him in for a kiss, slow and careful and exploring. “Should get undressed,” Roy says when they break apart. “I do like to look at you.”

“That’s good, because I like to be looked at.” Jamie grins and tugs his hoodie off, then his t-shirt, revealing the skin and muscles and tattoos and everything Roy’s been thinking about every day since he left Paris. “You, too, I miss that shag carpet you call a chest.”

“Brat.” Roy strips his own shirt off and starts on his trousers. “If you’d taken the plane back you’d still be in a taxi home by now.”

“Probably.” Jamie doesn’t seem particularly interested in what-ifs. He wiggles out of his sweats and pants, and Roy frowns at how carefully he moves the leg with the bad hip. One ice pack clearly wasn’t enough, and Jamie’s definitely not going to be able to do anything even remotely flexible tonight.

Not that Roy is going to ask. He has his own ideas.

He climbs onto the bed and gently pushes Jamie down on his back, laying his body over Jamie’s to hold him there. Jamie relaxes under it, tilting his face for Roy to kiss, and they spend a bit like that, skin to skin, making out slowly and re-learning the feeling of each other. When a hint of impatience makes its way into Jamie’s sighs, Roy smiles against his mouth and slides his hand down between them, finding Jamie’s cock and stroking it slowly.

“Roy.” Jamie turns his head to the side, taking a rough breath. “Fuck. Your hands.”

“Mm.” Roy kisses his neck, then moves his hand so Jamie’s cock is against his and he can stroke both of them together. Jamie moans, his lips wet and red from Roy’s mouth, and Roy gives in and bites at his collarbone, leaving a mark that will blossom into a bruise by morning.

Roy brings them both off like that, his hand moving and his mouth pressing kisses and bites to Jamie’s skin while Jamie squirms and gasps under him. Roy wants to fall asleep like that, feeling Jamie with every inch of his body, but Jamie gently pushes at him until he rolls to the side.

“Can’t fall asleep sticky,” Jamie says apologetically, making a face. “I’ll get something to clean you up, too.” He hesitates, looking down at Roy, then leans in and kisses him one more time, teeth scraping at Roy’s lower lip. “Fuck. I get to do this now? All the time? Mental. If you try to break up with me I’ll burn the house down.”

That’s a little more intense than Roy was expecting, but he’s not exactly at top capacity right now either, and when Jamie comes back with wet cloths he’s very cuddly and loving, so he lets it go and holds Jamie until they fall asleep.

**

Roy is up first in the morning, as usual, and makes his way downstairs in the quiet house to make coffee for all of them.

He drinks his first, standing at the window overlooking the garden and running through his plan for the day—get Jamie to Heathrow, go by Nelson Road and review paperwork, make up this week’s training plan, finally write the thank-you notes to season ticket holders that Rebecca’s been on him about for a month—before he makes up Keeley and Jamie’s mugs and takes them upstairs.

He goes to the guest room first, waking Keeley up with a combination of coffee smells and stroking her hair. “Good morning,” he says when she opens her eyes and makes a tiny, grumpy noise like a cat. “I thought you might like to pop in with Jamie and me for a bit before we have to put him on the plane.”

“Pop in like cuddle or pop in like fuck?” she asks, yawning and wrapping her hands around the coffee mug. Her hair is flaring out around her face like a lion’s mane. She’s incredible.

“Whichever we all feel up for,” he answers honestly. “I could go either way.”

“Aw, babe. Sweet to hear you say it out loud.” She grins at him and he honestly considers thwapping her with a pillow, except he doesn’t want to have to wash coffee-stained sheets.

They go down the hall to where Jamie’s still burrowed down under both blankets and pillows, his feet the only thing visible. And those are a mess, of course, the kind of late-career state that buys a podiatrist a new boat or three. Roy runs his finger from heel to the base of Jamie’s big toe and Jamie kicks out, making an outraged noise that also reminds Roy of a cat. Interesting.

“Good morning, babe,” Keeley says, her voice still throaty with sleep. “We’ve got coffee for you.”

That gets him out from under the pillows. “Thanks.” He sits up and reaches for the mug, his face breaking into a grin. “I could get used to this, waking up with you two and coffee.”

“That’s the idea,” Keeley says before Roy can think at all. “How’s your hip? Can you take something now?”

“Mm.” Jamie shrugs. “Over the counter whatever. Thanks.”

Keeley goes to get that and Roy sits down on the edge of the bed, running his hand up and down Jamie’s thigh. “Got an hour before we need to head out. You want a shower, or do you need to stretch or anything, we’ve got a little gym downstairs if using the elliptical or something would help—”

“Roy.” Jamie’s voice is gentle and amused. “You should stop talking and kiss me.”

Right. He can do that. And they do, until Keeley comes back with pills for Jamie to wash down with his coffee. Then Jamie kisses her for a bit, and that’s lovely, Roy doesn’t mind watching that at all. It feels like they’re in their own little universe, set off from the regular one, just this room and the three of them safe and removed from everything else.

Jamie and Roy are both too stiff and clumsy first thing in the morning to manage an old-fashioned fuck, but the three of them all have mouths and hands and, today at least, a giddy awareness of each other that works as its own stimulation. They use up a good forty minutes of Jamie’s hour and the shower time ends up very compressed, to Jamie’s chagrin.

“The one time I walk into Heathrow with bad hair,” he sighs. “I can guarantee I’ll get asked for ten pictures. Maybe a pap or two. And the driver on the Paris side will judge me.”

“They would judge you anyway, babe. It’s their whole thing.” Keeley kisses him quickly on the cheek. “Roy, am I coming with you two or are you going right over to Nelson Road after?”

“I was going to go right over, but it’s not like you’ve never amused yourself there before.”

“Rebecca won’t be there today,” she says, waving her hand. “I’ll stay here, then. Jamie, let us know when you get home? And take care of yourself. I’m going to worry about you now.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m still expensive enough that PSG takes very good care of me.”

“Have your agent call Higgins and Aisha,” Roy says, earning another eye-roll. He doesn’t care; he’s going to worry, too, until Jamie’s firmly back in London where they can keep an eye on him all the time. “Let’s get this done as fast as we can.”

“I have to at least give PSG the chance to turn me down first. It’s only polite.” He shakes his head. “But I will tell Lisa that I have a good feeling about Richmond. She’ll know what that means.”

Keeley needs another round of hugs and kisses, and then Roy scoops up Jamie’s kit bag and they get in the car. The G-Wagon is long gone; these days small electric vehicles are the only ones allowed in London without soul-crushing taxes. Roy’s actually gotten fond of his little mouse of a car.

Dropping Jamie off at departures hurts, even as Roy tells himself that that doesn’t make any sense. It’s only been weeks since he hadn’t properly spoken to Jamie in years, much less seen him in person. How can everything have changed so fast? Ridiculous.

But Jamie grips his hand just as tightly as Roy wants to, and they look at each other for a long moment before Roy gives up and pulls him into a hug. They can’t kiss here, not with so many people around and Jamie wearing his team sweats again. But Roy can whisper right against Jamie’s ear, and does.

“Get back here as soon as you can, yeah? I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Jamie smiles and leans into him for another moment before pulling away. “As soon as they’ve taken the Champions League trophy away from me,” he says, grinning at Roy’s glare. “What? It’s my last run, of course we’re going to win it all.”

**

PSG gets bounced in the Champions League semi-finals, a heartbreaker of a loss to Inter Milan. Technically the club has two games left in the Ligue 1 season, but their second-place finish is guaranteed, and Jamie’s signed off with injury and allowed to miss those two. He’s on a flight to London three days after the loss, just enough time for the paperwork to go through and for sitting on a plane to be bearable.

Roy and Keeley both meet him at the airport this time, Keeley sitting in the back of the car with him while Roy navigates back to the house. Jamie looks wrecked in a way Roy recognizes too well even after so many years—shadows and lines and swelling in his face making him look a decade older than he is, all of it from raw disappointment and grief. He’d cut his hair off, too, sometime in those three days, and it looks like he did it himself with his shaving razor. Fucking ragged mess.

“Lisa says the contract will be ready later this week,” Jamie says when they’re about halfway back. His voice is wrecked, too, dull and heavy. “If Richmond still wants me after that fucking… disaster. Embarrassing.”

“We watched the match, love,” Keeley says quietly. “You weren’t out there playing solo, so it’s not your fault.”

“Still. My last fucking shot at it, I should’ve…” He exhales unsteadily. “I don’t know. Pulled up some magic or something.”

“Ask me how well that goes.” Roy hits his turn signal and changes lanes. “Or rather, ask Iceland. I’m sure they still remember that fucking game over there.”

“Not like they’ve got anything else to be proud of,” Jamie mumbles, and they both laugh a little, while Keeley rolls her eyes.

“Yes, the entire nation of Iceland burns Roy in effigy once a year. I’m sure that’s it exactly.” She squeezes Jamie’s hand. “You need to rest, babe. You’re staying with us, obviously, as long as you want, and we’ll make sure you have everything you can think of.”

“I do have to go back and pack up the flat at some point. And find a place here in London. Fuck.” Jamie sighs, pressing his hand over his face. “I didn’t even think about any of that shit before I left, I just slept for a day and did my paperwork at the club and then came here. Fuck. I’ve got so much to do.”

“Don’t worry about it yet,” Roy says firmly. “It’ll keep. And we’ll help you. Keeley and I can go to Paris and put things in boxes and watch movers put your stuff on a truck as well as you can.”

“And like I just said, you can stay with us as long as you want.” Keeley meets Roy’s eyes in the rearview mirror, raising her eyebrows, and he nods in agreement. “There’s plenty of room, and we want you around anyway. You just rest and heal up and we’ll worry about the rest of it later.”

Jamie looks skeptical, but he’s got no fight left—Roy knows what that looks like, too—and so he just nods and subsides, leaning on Keeley’s shoulder while Roy gets them the rest of the way home.

**

There’s no press conference around the signing, just a release from the office. Mostly that’s because Jamie’s still in no state to do a decent presser, but also because they’re trying not to make this a retirement victory lap kind of thing. Jamie wants to approach it as a normal signing preceding a normal two-season contract. And he does pass his physical, so... all right. Maybe it is.

Of course, then Jamie agrees to do a big interview and photo spread for one of the big footy websites, so who the fuck knows what goes on in his head.

“It’s about coming back to the Premier League, not wrapping things up,” Jamie says when Roy points that out. “Jamie Tartt’s big homecoming. It’s going to be a nice profile, they’re not going to say anything mean. It’s promo, not journalism.”

Keeley has other priorities. “If you’re doing a photoshoot, babe, we have to do something about your hair.”

And of course that gets Jamie all fussed, so Roy tunes them both out and goes back to watching scouting clips on his phone. They have to get that midfielder from Hungary. Just have to. He’s going to tell Aisha to fly there herself if necessary. Hell, he’ll go too.

He doesn’t zone back in until an hour or so later, when the front door opens and a whirling little ball of chaos runs in and climbs into his lap. “Coach!” Bella shouts, and Roy puts his phone down, shifting her off his bad knee with practiced ease.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and she grins at him, tossing her neat little braids back from her face.

“Daddy’s going to do Uncle Jamie’s hair.”

“Oh, is he?” Sure enough, Isaac’s got his kit case in one hand, and Keeley’s moving a chair to the middle of the kitchen floor while Jamie wraps a towel around his shoulders.

“What did you do to yourself?” Isaac asks, shaking his head. “It looks like something chewed on this.”

“Middle of the night crisis,” Jamie says apologetically. “Do you think you’ll have to just shave it down?”

Isaac clicks his tongue and walks back and forth around him, studying his head. “I think I can salvage it. Going to be a very sharp fade, though. Maybe I can put some racing stripes in, make it look like some of it’s uneven on purpose.”

“Perfect, mate. You’re a genius.”

“You owe me.” Isaac opens his case and starts changing out clipper blades. “I want babysitting hours. Bella and the twins, so I can take Yvette out to dinner.”

“How old are the twins now?” Jamie asks, closing his eyes as Isaac flips the clippers on.

“Four. They’re absolutely shitting mad.” Roy glances at Bella, bracing himself for the shouting that should follow her dad swearing, but she’s distracted by Keeley’s collection of little obnoxious knickknack things on the credenza.

“Deal,” Jamie says, obediently moving along as Isaac moves his head with the flat of his hand. “Just please make me look good. They’re bringing in some German photographer who’s the hot new thing and I don’t want to embarrass meself.”

“Don’t insult me.” Isaac makes the first pass with the clippers and Keeley hums in appreciation. Roy can’t see what’s going on, but it doesn’t matter, because he has to catch Bella before she does a header over the arm of the couch.

When Isaac’s done, Jamie looks great, of course. He walks Isaac and Bella out to the car and Roy sees the two men talking for a few minutes after the kid’s buckled into her seat. Isaac pulls Jamie into a hug that Jamie returns with intensity, and Roy’s stomach twists a little. If they’re talking about how Roy’s lack of awareness fucked Jamie up for all these years, he’s going to go drown himself in the sink.

Keeley’s arms slip around him from behind and he leans back into her. “It’s nice, right?” she asks softly. “Having people that you like.”

“I hope you’re not hinting that I like Isaac.”

“Course not.” She kisses the nape of his neck. “Jamie needs people he likes, too.”

“Jamie likes everyone.”

“That is not true.” She turns him around and rests her head on his chest. “Stop feeling bad and be glad he’s here with us.”

Roy exhales and nods, running his hands up and down her back. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.” She squeezes him tighter. “You want to go sweep up the kitchen?”

“Oh, I see what all the hugging’s about.” He tips her chin up and kisses her properly. “I’ll do that if you handle dinner tonight.”

“Deal.”

Jamie comes back in just as Roy gets the broom out. “You want me to do that?”

“I’ve got it. Keep me company?”

Jamie boosts himself up on the counter and watches. “You want to come to the photoshoot?”

“I really don’t.”

“You want to take me to coffee before the photoshoot? Little date?”

Roy looks up, startled, and finds Jamie grinning at him. “You’re serious?”

“I am. Nobody else will know it’s a date, but we will. Secret thing for us.” He shrugs. “Don’t have to. Just a thought.”

Roy carefully sweeps the hair into the dustpan. “I’d like that. Going on a date with you.”

When he looks up, Jamie is beaming, his face flushed a pretty pink. “Cool.”

**

Their coffee date is very nice, and then Roy drops Jamie off at the studio where he’ll do his shoot. He’d done the interview the day before, and came home in a good mood, saying he thought the writer was lovely and wouldn’t pull any surprises on him.

“You sure you don’t want to come up?” Jamie asks, squeezing Roy’s hand. “Could help them dress me.”

Roy rolls his eyes at him. “I’d put you in all black and be done with it.”

“Plain black doesn’t suit me. Need something to bring out the eyes.” Jamie looks at himself in the rearview mirror, tracing his fingertips over the stripes Isaac put in his hair. “Yeah, not bad, right?”

“You look great. Go on, then. Call me if you want a lift home, or get a car, whatever you want. Keeley and I don’t have plans.”

“Give her a kiss for me.” Jamie all but glows when he says things like that. Roy can’t pretend that watching Jamie be so happy to be with them doesn’t make him just as happy himself. It’s wonderful.

“I will. Go on.”

They don’t stop at a kiss, and have a very nice afternoon in bed before Jamie gets home. They pull him down into the sheets with them and he snuggles up, warm and content and smelling like makeup and hairspray.

“The pictures are going to be great,” he says, frowning at the streak of foundation his cheek leaves on the pillow. “Oops. I’ll put this all in the wash later, Keels. But yeah, they had a few different setups and they’re all brilliant and I think I looked really good. Article proofs next week, probably, but they’re going to send just the edited photos over in a few days. I asked.”

Keeley laughs softly. “I know they’ll be great, babe. You love a camera.”

“And they love me back.” Jamie shifts to look at Roy. “Are you going to say nice things about me now?”

“My god, your ego.” Roy shakes his head, but he can’t help smiling. “You’re extremely photogenic. I’m sure the pictures are amazing.”

“Thank you.” Jamie settles on his back and grins up at the ceiling. “That’s what I like to hear from the people I’m shagging.”

“Dating,” Roy corrects.

“Shagging,” Keeley confirms, reaching across Jamie’s chest to take Roy’s hand. “Anyway, what should we have for dinner?”

**

The pictures turn up in Jamie’s email a few days later, as promised, and he pulls them up on his tablet, as excited as a kid at Christmas. The first setup is fairly standard—he looks great, of course, but it’s nothing exciting, a dark leather jacket with the collar popped and a lot of dramatic, broody staring in front of different colored screens.

The second one is a little more creative; he’s wearing what’s clearly meant to evoke an England kit without actually committing infringement. But instead of doing keep-ups and posing in front of pictures of a pitch, he’s playing with a bunch of cats and dogs with fake-fur ruffs around their necks to create the idea of lions. He’s laughing in almost all the pictures, real honest laughter, not an artful pout or posed stare in sight.

The third set makes Roy choke, and he can tell that’s what the little prick has been waiting for, because Jamie cackles in glee when Roy stops scrolling. There’s a plain screen with a box in front of it, and Jamie’s sitting on the box, his body angled with his right side forward. He’s wearing a dark blue robe, the left front over his lap and between his legs for modesty, the right front pushed back so the line of his side is bare from armpit to ankle and it’s clear he’s not wearing anything under the robe. It puts the surgical scar on his hip in bold prominence, and several of the shots are set up so the viewer’s eye is drawn directly to the rough strip of tissue.

Jamie’s got his chin high in all of them, looking proud and confident, jawline on display and eyes bright. The whole set evokes endurance and effort and general being-a-legend-ness, without a single word displayed on any of them, and Roy doesn’t know if he wants to throw the tablet across the room or request all of them printed and framed for the front hall.

He looks up to find Jamie watching him, eyebrows raised, smile faded just a bit as he waits for Roy’s reaction. “Well? What do you think?”

Roy clears his throat and holds the tablet out to Keeley. “They’re stunning. The third set, especially, as you know perfectly well.”

Jamie’s smile blooms again. “Yeah, I liked those.”

“If they use any of the leather jacket shots they’re idiots. Kittens and being half-naked all the way.”

“I asked them for one that was half-naked with kittens,” Jamie says earnestly, “but the animal handler had already rounded them up and taken them away.”

“You don’t want kitten claws that close to your balls anyway, babe.” Keeley kisses him on the cheek and sets the tablet aside. “Anything Richmond can use for promo directly?”

“I said good things, hopefully those quotes will make it.” Jamie stretches his legs out with a little grunt. “So now that this is done, the next thing on my list is getting housing sorted. I need to go back and pack up the flat in Paris before the lease is done. But I need to find a place here to put the stuff in, can’t just leave it on a truck forever. Not sure if I’ll do a house or a flat, but my old real estate bloke retired, do you still have the name of the one who found you this place?”

“Mm, I’ll have to dig it up,” Keeley says, in the tone that Roy knows means she has no intention of doing that. “But we’ve got spare rooms you can put your stuff in, babe. Let’s go over and get your flat packed up and just have the boxes brought here. There’s no rush, right? Plenty of time.”

Jamie gives her an odd look, and for a moment Roy thinks he’s on to them and their quiet plan to keep him in their house for as long as they can. But then he seems to shrug it off and just nods. “That’s fine with me, Keels. I hate dealing with real estate shit. If you’re sure you don’t mind me taking up space.”

“We’ve got plenty,” she says, smiling at him on her way off to the kitchen to make tea.

**

Jamie brings up looking for a place once or twice more, but none of them ever act on it. He has his things brought over from Paris and stashes them in one of the unused rooms that Roy and Keeley had always meant to turn into a proper office and never did. Jamie opens boxes as he needs things, and otherwise it all sits there quietly gathering dust while the summer goes by.

Pre-season training starts up, and Roy can tell right away that this year is going to have a spark that the last few have lacked. Jamie isn't the center of their offense, but he brings a jolt of energy to the team. The veterans shake the rust off faster. The younger ones are just that little bit more engaged. Roy didn't realize how stale things had gotten until suddenly they're better, just by having Jamie come in and push at them.

The Swedish kid, Karl, latches on to Jamie immediately, and Jamie treats him as patiently as those puppies at PSG—who still text him regularly, Roy's seen their names in Jamie's phone. It's hard when your mentor fucks off on you, he remembers that. A lot easier to stay in touch these days anyway.

So work is good, and home is... fantastic, really. The three of them have found that slotting together like puzzle pieces that he'd hoped for at the beginning. There's always someone to lean on, someone to help, someone to call a technical when a stupid argument is threatening. It's the best summer Roy's had in years.

He's happy, in a way that almost scares him, because he doesn't know what he'll do if it's taken away or things fall apart. How is he supposed to just shrug it off and... carry on, if that happens?

He tries not to dwell on it too much. And one thing Keeley and Jamie are very good at in tandem is keeping him from getting too deep in his head. They have very specialized skills.

It’s not a constant shagfest—none of them are as young as they used to be and Jamie’s hip is an extra hurdle for him to get over. Still, they’re all committed and creative and happy to spend all the time they can finding new ways to keep each other satisfied. Jamie wanted to keep a whiteboard on the bedroom wall and track stats on it, which Keeley had to put her foot down about. “No competition in here,” she’d said. “We’re all winners. Behave yourselves.”

So summer winds down and what Roy thinks might be one of the best seasons of his life starts, and then everything gets upended when Keeley gets the call that they've been matched with a child.

**

She comes home early, which scares the shit out of Roy and Jamie. They’re in the living room watching match film and arguing about whether Karl should be shifted into a new position when the front door opens and Keeley walks in like a zombie.

“Keels?” Roy calls out, and she doesn’t answer, just goes into the kitchen and switches the kettle on. Jamie looks at him in worry and Roy gets to his feet and hurries to her.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks, getting a mug from the cabinet for her and watching as she fumbles with the teabag. Her hands are shaking enough that he eventually takes that away from her and does it himself, too. “Keeley. What happened?”

He can see Jamie out of the corner of his eye, standing just inside the kitchen, not quite close enough to be with them but not leaving them alone either. Keeley looks over at him, then at Roy, and a wobbly smile twists her mouth, her eyes wet.

“There’s a kid,” she says. “A little girl. She’s six. They think we’d be a good match. They want... well, yeah, they want us to start the process. If we still want to. Um. So, yeah. That’s... they called and I just... I came home.”

Roy stares at her for a moment, his mind going entirely blank, like taking a kick to the head in a scramble for the ball. For a that moment he isn’t even sure of what she said, the words slow to filter down through to where they make sense. They’ve been waiting for well over a year. If he thought anything he figured their file had been lost.

Jamie’s the first one to move. “Oh my god,” he says, sweeping forward and pulling Keeley into a hug. “Congratulations. Finally! You wanted this so bad, babe. I’m so happy for you.”

Keeley buries her face against his chest, a sob breaking the air, and Roy finally remembers how to operate his body, stepping in to get his arms around them both. Jamie gently shifts Keeley off him and onto Roy, giving Roy a quick smile and stepping back from them as the kettle pings. “We all need tea,” he whispers, and jerks his head toward the other room. “Get her sitting down before you both fall down, yeah?”

Once Keeley’s seated and has a cup of tea in her hands, she does come back to herself a bit. “Her name’s Mina. She’s got some trauma—I mean, obviously, she’s up for adoption at six, she’s been through shit. But apparently she’s doing well with the support setup she has now, so they’d want us to keep that the same. Obviously. And we’d take some classes and there’s a counselor for us, too, and...” She blinks and takes a sip of her tea. “God. I thought we were just kind of in limbo forever. I didn’t expect this when I went to work today.”

“You’re still ready to step back from work for this?” Roy asks it as carefully as he can. That was always Keeley’s plan—this was the thing she would cut back for, nothing else. Not even to date Jamie, like she’d said.

She nods, staring at her drink and then lifting her eyes to his face. “You still want it?”

He nods and she shudders, tears breaking free again, and Jamie clears his throat, looking back and forth between them and then getting to his feet.

“You two need some married-people time,” he says, smiling enough to take the sting out of it. “I’m going to go for a walk. Not too far, be back in a bit, nothing to worry about. Just take a few minutes for yourselves.” He leans down and kisses them each on top of the head. “I’m so happy for both of you,” he murmurs, and then he’s out, all but sprinting for the door.

Roy knows Jamie well enough to know they definitely need to worry about how he might be taking this, but there’s no time to think about that, because Keeley’s collapsing against him again and she’s fully crying this time, all of her stress and worry and dashed hopes coming out at once, and he needs to hold her. Hold her and also get the cup of tea out of her hand and set on the floor before she spills it all over the couch, or his lap.

**

By the time Jamie gets back, Keeley’s herself again, notepad in hand and making lists. Jamie hesitates in the entryway, watching her, until Roy waves at him to get his arse over to the couch.

“This is just from the nearest off-license,” Jamie says, holding up a bottle of champagne. “It’s probably shit. But I thought we could celebrate anyway.”

“Absolutely, babe.” Keeley smiles and puts her pen down. “Come help me get the glasses.”

Jamie follows and Roy sits there for a moment, trying to pull his mind back into some kind of order. They need to talk to Jamie about the practicalities of this—they’re on one of Keeley’s lists, somewhere—and decide which guest room to make over, and figure out dinner, and Roy needs to file for paternity leave. Big things and little things. He has no idea how to sort them.

Jamie presses a champagne flute into his hand and Roy takes a sip of, yes, very bad champagne. “Cheers,” he says, nodding at the cushion next to him. “Sit, Jamie. You get to celebrate too.”

“Yes!” Keeley settles back into her place, tucking her feet up under herself. “Uncle Jamie, you’re very important to this!”

Jamie’s smile is distinctly frozen around the edges. “Course I’ll be Uncle Jamie. And I’ll find a flat and get my things out of the house just as fast as I can, promise, there’s that building right near the training grounds where the new lads all stay when they first arrive.”

Keeley stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re going to have a family now.” Jamie fidgets, champagne flute trembling between his fingers. “I know they don’t give kids to places where random men are living. Not safe and all. So I’ll get out quick as I can and you can get the place ready for her to move in. Mina, right? You said six? Six year olds like, what... unicorns? Princesses?”

“Jamie.” Roy exhales sharply. “We’re not breaking up with you just because we’re adopting.”

“You have to.” Jamie’s eyes are a little wild. “They don’t let you have a kid if you’re dating some random bloke other than your partner.”

“It’s not actually a question they ask.” Keeley sits up straighter, her fingers twisted in the ends of her sleeves. “We’ll need to update our paperwork to add you as a member of the household—that's all the ask, just members of the household, no details—and then they’ll do an interview with you and a background check. You’re not a random man, you’re part of our...”

She breaks off as Jamie starts shaking his head. “It’s not that simple. It can’t be.”

“It is, though.” Roy shrugs at Jamie’s look. “They know we might need to update the paperwork from the last time they talked to us, there’s a timeframe to do it in. The interview and the background check. Once they confirm you’ve not got anything on your record and that you’re not a danger, they don’t ask anything else.”

“The interview,” Jamie says, like he’s trying to explain something very obvious. “I’m not going to pass that. What’s your relationship to Roy and Keeley? Well, I fuck them and sometimes make breakfast.”

Keeley throws her notebook across the room, half-falls off the couch, and runs upstairs. Roy closes his eyes and buries his head in his hands.

“Right,” Jamie says after a moment. “I should’ve... put that differently.”

“It would’ve been better.” Roy drops his hands to his lap. “You really think we would just toss you out like rubbish?”

“No.” Jamie’s voice cracks a bit. “I figured... we could still have dates, just one of you would come round to my place and the other one would stay here with the kiddo. And I’d be secondary, obviously, she’d come first, that’s only right. And I could come round and hang out with you guys, have dinner, be Uncle Jamie, but obviously you won’t want her to know about...”

“Know about what, Jamie? Loving and caring about other people? Or that I’m bi?”

Jamie shakes his head. “That you’re cheating on Keeley! Which is how the rest of the world would put it, the way they’d say it if she ever mentioned it to anyone else. Nobody would understand, and they’d tell her you’re bad and Keeley’s bad and I’m... and it would hurt all of you.”

“It’s not exactly flattering that you think we’re either stupid or haven’t put any thought into this at all.”

And somehow that’s the thing that seems to get through to Jamie. His mouth falls open and he sits there for a minute. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Roy glares at him. “Fucking oh. We have a fucking plan, Jamie.” He waits while that sinks in. “Were you planning this, too? That as soon as the word came through, you were out?”

“Obviously.” Jamie still seems dazed. “I thought... I mean, I didn’t see how it wasn’t just a temporary thing. A fucking wonderful temporary thing. But...”

Roy jerks his head toward the stairs. “You better go apologize for hurting her feelings.”

“Wait. Roy.” Jamie leans toward him, putting his hand out helplessly. “You mean it, though? That you really think... really?”

“Yes. Both of us do.” Roy takes Jamie’s hand and squeezes a little. “I thought we would get notice in a more fucking formal way, a little more warning so we had time to talk to you, but I guess we should’ve just talked about it anyway. It’s been such a sore spot for Keeley, though, I never wanted to push her on it.”

“Fuck.” Jamie breathes out slowly. “I never thought I’d... kids, you know? I didn’t want to be like my dad so I just wrote the whole idea off. Figured if I ever met someone who made me change my mind, that’s how I’d know it was meant to be.”

Roy waits. “And?”

“What? Oh.” His face reddens. “Well, this isn’t being a dad, it’s being an uncle, or a co-dad, or just... well. Part of the household.” He says the words carefully, like he’s trying them out.

“Part of the family,” Roy says, and that short-circuits Jamie’s brain entirely, he’s pretty sure. Roy takes his hand back and brushes Jamie’s hair off his forehead—it's finally grown back enough to flop around.

“Go apologize,” he says, nodding at the stairs again. “She needs it sooner than later, mate, that really hurt her.”

Jamie nods a bit. “Did I hurt you too?”

“Yeah, but I can wait. Go on.”

Jamie goes and Roy collapses back against the couch, shutting his eyes and letting the dull tension headache that’s taken up residence in his skull throb through his whole body. Not how he wanted this to go at all. Fucking hell.

He’s going to be a husband, a boyfriend, and a father. He finally has a moment alone to process that. It’s probably good that it’s going to take a while for Jamie to make things right with Keeley. It’s going to take Roy a while to work through this, too.

**

It takes about two weeks for everything to clear, and then they bring Mina home. She’s tall for her age, and extremely serious. None of them see her smile for days, and when she does it’s not anything any of them did, but the sight of some dogs romping in Richmond Park.

They know she needs time, and they know better than to push her. Roy’s on leave until she starts up in school, and then he’s only going back part-time. Keeley’s working part-time all the way through, except for the first few weeks Mina’s at home. And of course Jamie’s in training, but eating and sleeping and recovery are part of an athlete’s full-time, so he’s at home plenty.

Mina views them all with a kind of amused, suspicious tolerance, which Roy doesn’t blame her for in the slightest. She has individual and group therapy each once a week—Roy pictures group therapy as being like it is in a movie about drug rehab, but their social worker says it’s more like designated art time and lightly structured playtime with other kids who have gone through the same things. “Essentially giving them a space where they can say ‘Do you miss your mum? I miss mine’ without anyone calling them weird,” she tells them. “More of a safe space than formal therapy.” And that makes sense to Roy. The dorms at Academy were like that, except with no art and more talking each other into doing extremely stupid shit.

Roy’s biggest concern in the first few weeks she’s home, before school starts, is that Mina does not speak to Jamie at all. She doesn’t seem to dislike him; she’ll sit next to him on the couch and watch a movie, she’ll accept the dinner plates he hands her, she’ll nod or shake her head to his questions. But she doesn’t say anything to him. There’s no such problem with Roy and Keeley—she addresses them extremely politely, like she’s talking to the fucking Royal Family.

Jamie tells them, repeatedly, to leave it. “Let her take her time. This is a lot for a kid. And they’ve told her you’re her mum and dad now but they didn’t give her any kind of a role for me. I’m just that other bloke who’s around. She’ll figure out what to do with me, don’t push her on it.”

That makes sense, even if it makes Roy itch. Mina calls him and Keeley by their first names; they let her decide and she decided on that immediately, which told them clearly enough that it was the right call. She had her Mum and Dad and they’re not here anymore and Roy and Keeley are substitutions that aren’t replacements. When she has to refer to Jamie indirectly, she uses his name, too, declining the option to call him an uncle, and that’s fine, too.

Roy’s worry about the whole thing doesn’t ease until a few weeks into the school year, a day when it’s Jamie’s turn to pick her up from group and Roy and Keeley are having a counseling-mandated date night in the city. They get home to find Jamie and Mina sitting on the floor, Mina drawing something on a sheet of paper and talking rapidly while Jamie leans in close to see and nods occasionally. “I think I get it,” he says as Roy closes the door and Mina looks up. “Not so confusing when you explain it like that. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” She blinks at Roy and Keeley in the entryway. “Hello. I’m showing Jamie how to do maths.”

“She is.” Jamie smiles at them. “They’ve got a new way of teaching it now. Wish they’d had it when I was a kid. Makes a lot more sense than the way I learned it.”

Mina folds the paper up and puts her pencils back in their little bag. “We had dinner, too. Jamie made pasta and broccoli and chicken and put cheese on them.”

“That sounds great.” Keeley strokes Mina’s hair and Mina allows it, giving her a very small smile of her own.

“He’s all right, you know,” Mina says, tilting her head toward Jamie in case they could miss who she meant.

“We do know.” Roy gives her a serious nod, which she returns. “Glad you agree.”

“She said the two of you are all right, too,” Jamie says, carefully easing himself up from the floor. “For the record.”

“That’s nice to know.” Keeley’s going to have a sobbing fit about that later, Roy can tell, but for now she’s holding together well. “Did you two have dessert?”

Mina shakes her head. “No, we were too full, he said we could have it later.”

“Right. I’ll put something together for all four of us. Do you want to help?”

The girls go into the kitchen and Roy makes his way over to press a kiss to Jamie’s temple. “I feel like all of us being considered all right is pretty high praise, actually.”

“It definitely is.” Jamie leans into him, resting his head on Roy’s shoulder. “I can’t sit on the floor like that, though, fuck.”

“Yeah, we need more cushions. Beanbag chairs or something.”

“God, if I sit in one of those I’ll never be able to get up.” Jamie catches Roy’s hand and twines their fingers together. “How was the restaurant? Keep it on the list for our next night out?”

“Yeah. Nice place. Quiet. Private booths and all.” Roy listens to the sound of Mina explaining something to Keeley—sounds like it might be about maths again. “You training tomorrow?”

“Maintenance day.” Jamie runs his thumb over Roy’s knuckles. “But I’ll come in and keep you company on the sidelines if you want.”

“Nah. Stay home, stay in bed. I’ll come home for lunch.”

Jamie snorts. “Lunch in bed?”

“Obviously.” In case Jamie can miss his meaning, he adds a pat on the arse. “Eat sandwiches off your abs.”

“Crumbs everywhere.” He’s grinning and still leaning heavily into Roy. “Sounds good. Think Keels can sneak home too?”

“We can ask nicely and see.” That would be nice, the three of them together longer than it takes to fall asleep at night. They’re still figuring out this whole scheduling business.

Keeley and Mina come out of the kitchen with dessert for all and tea for the grown-ups, and Roy and Jamie obediently separate to settle in at the table. These moments make Roy’s heart clench and flip and do other strange things in his chest. These… being a family ones. He never knows what to do with them besides white-knuckle through, but he thinks he could get used to them if he tries.

**

By February, Mina’s decided that they’re all at least trustworthy enough for actual conversations. Occasionally she laughs. And they’ve figured out they have two cheat codes in their pockets: one, having Isaac round with Bella. The twins overwhelm her, but she and Bella can play for hours. Bella even gets her out in the garden kicking a football around, which Roy and Jamie have consistently failed to interest her in.

The second cheat code is Phoebe, who fills the role of fascinating older cousin out of some kind of movie. Mina latches on to Phoebe immediately, to the point where Roy, Keeley, and Jamie can even take the occasional date night all three of them while Phoebe babysits.

Phoebe doesn’t take payment in cash for that, but instead in mocking Roy and Jamie thoroughly for their ten-year gap in figuring things out. “I knew,” she says more than once. “I was an actual child, and I knew! What is wrong with you two!”

“So much,” Jamie answered wistfully, the first time. “You have no idea.”

Anyway, things are good. Roy can breathe. Keeping working hours limited and not sneaking in time evenings and weekends is doing wonders for Keeley—Roy hasn’t seen her this relaxed in years, even with the stress of learning how to parent.

And the team is doing well. Not top of the table well, there’s no turning that around in one season unless Ted Lasso is involved, but they’re solidly in the middle and might make the top third by season’s end. The youngsters are making progress faster than Roy expected, partly because of Jamie himself and partly because his presence has the vets more engaged. Karl scores a hat trick against Watford, his first in the Premiership, and the whole team celebrates so enthusiastically that Roy actually has to tell them to back it down.

But something always has to come along to balance things out again, and late February brings it. They have a match against Brentford on a cold, drizzly day, the pitch slick and all but icy. The conditions are ankle-breaking, and Roy spends the first half achingly tense, one eye on the pitch and one on their medical team, making sure they’re always ready to get out there as soon as they’re needed.

They are, because they’re professionals, which is good because the player who goes down on the slick grass and doesn’t get back up is Jamie, and Roy forgets everything around him.

Two players are at his side already by the time Roy gets there—Karl, of course, who is basically an extra appendage to Jamie at this point, and Allan, the captain. Roy manages not to shove them both aside, but it’s a near thing. “Tartt,” he says urgently, kneeling in the grass. “Jamie. Talk to me.”

“I’m awake.” Jamie’s clearly speaking through clenched teeth, but awake is good. Awake means hopefully not a head injury. “My hip went. Like. I think it’s done.”

Devon, the head of medical, does go ahead and shove Roy, Karl, and Allan all out of her way, exactly as she should. “Lie still, Jamie, let me have a look at this.”

“It’s done,” Jamie says again. “Fuck. This is what you felt like when you tackled me, Roy? Fuck. Karma, right? Except I didn’t tackle nobody, I just fucking slipped. Embarrassing.”

“Stop talking and let Devon work, you twat.” Roy swallows hard, against memories and threatening tears.

“Stretcher?” one of the other medics asks, and Jamie tries to surge upward, only going flat again when Devon puts her hand on his chest and pushes him down.

“I’m walking off,” Jamie says, his voice rising. “You are not fucking carrying me off, I don’t care, I—”

Devon rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know, this isn’t my first day here, Jamie. I doubt you can put weight on it, but if you’ll lean on someone most of the way you can probably hop the last meter yourself. Then we’ll get you up the tunnel and knock you out. Deal?”

Jamie exhales slowly and lies still for a moment, then nods. “Fine. Yeah. Allan, Karl. Help me?”

Roy falls back, the flash of hurt fading away with the memory of how teammates come first, always. This is Jamie’s last chance to have his teammates stand with him. He needs to have that.

Once he’s up, Jamie puts his arms over Allan and Karl’s shoulders, and they carry him over to that last meter of pitch. The crowd roars, and Jamie lifts one hand to wave to them. Roy thinks he might be seeing his own ghost, in that moment. He can’t fucking breathe. Devon can tell, too, because she takes him by the wrist and guides him across the pitch herself, keeping up a low stream of words that he can’t process but that at least keep him in his head.

The three lads go still for a moment, Allan leaning in and saying something in Jamie’s ear until he nods. Karl lets go and jogs over to the sideline, then turns back to face them, waiting with his arms loose at his sides. Roy’s pulse jumps when he realizes—Karl’s there to catch Jamie as soon as he crosses the line, so he doesn’t have to go a step further than necessary. Fuck. That kid’s going to be a captain himself, someday.

Allan helps Jamie find his balance on his good leg, waits for him to nod again, and Jamie does, indeed, technically, leave the pitch under his own power. Stubborn fucking prick. Roy is so in love with him it hurts.

The crowd screams, hitting a note Roy’s only heard at the really big moments. The ones that last.

Karl catches Jamie, and Jamie turns back to wave to the stands one more time.

Then the medics are there, sweeping him away down the tunnel, and Roy realizes he still has to coach the rest of this fucking match, somehow.

**

Devon’s waiting in Roy’s office when he finishes the press scrum and debriefing with the lads. “Thought I’d give you a chance to react privately before you go see him.”

“I appreciate that.” Roy runs his hand over his hair and takes a deep breath. “Career-ender?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is soft, compassionate. She’s a good doctor. “He needs a hip resurfacing. Players have come back from that, you might remember Romain Vincelot, but with the previous surgery Jamie already had it’s not going to happen.”

Roy nods slowly, letting the words sink through him inch by inch. Not as hard for him to hear as it was for Jamie, he knows that, but still, it hurts. “You told him that?”

“He knows. PSG’s team and our team have kept him informed the whole time that his cartilage was wearing away, that he was pretty much grinding bone on bone this last stretch here. And when they did the procedure to fix his FAI, they ground some of the bone surface off for that, so there’s less to work with, and—” She cuts herself off. “You don’t need the details.”

“I really don’t.” He takes another breath and makes himself square his shoulders. “All right. Thank you. Can I go see him now?”

“Yeah. He’s resting in the treatment room. We’re working on getting the surgery booked now, probably in two or three days. He’ll need help for a while, obviously, and you and Keeley are his emergency contacts, so I assume you’ll help sort that out.”

He has a suspicion, from the carefully neutral look on Devon’s face, that that’s not all she assumes. But there’s no time to deal with that right now.

“Thanks,” he says again, and leaves her there in the office. He pauses outside the door to the treatment room just long enough to check his phone—Keeley and Mina hadn't come to the match, but Rebecca had updated Keeley on what happened, and she’s already getting the ground-floor guest room ready for Jamie. No stairs for a good long while for him.

Take care of him, was the last message, and Roy sends back an X, tucks his phone back in his pocket, and opens the door.

Jamie turns his head a little and blinks at the motion, clearly taking a moment to identify Roy. “There you are,” he mumbles. “Wondered when you’d be round. Devon and Mike gave me a fuckton of painkillers, mate, I could dance a tango right now. Don’t need to look so serious.”

All Roy can think to say is, “Let’s get you home.”

“Not quite yet.” Jamie looks up at the ceiling again. “Want a few more minutes here. I’m going to miss this place. Even if it still smells like piss in that one corner of the changing room, did anyone ever figure out why that was?”

“The pipes from the toilet run right through the wall there.” Roy moves closer, and Jamie reaches out to catch his hand. “Let’s not talk about piss right now.”

“Rather talk about piss than what you want to talk about, mate. No serious shit right now, okay? Nothing about the future. Stupid things only. Please.”

“Yeah, okay.” Roy squeezes his hand gently. “Think maybe we should repaint the bedroom, any ideas?”

“Mm. Make it, like. Bright red. Something interesting.”

Roy wrinkles his nose. “That would be like sleeping inside a giant mouth.”

“I know. We could get red bedding and white pillows, like the teeth.”

“Disgusting.” Roy swallows back the emotions threatening to leak into his voice or out of his eyeballs. Jamie doesn’t want that right now. “I kind of want to redo the landscaping in the garden, too. Maybe more trees.”

“Mm. Trees are nice.” Jamie’s eyelids droop a bit. “’m tired.”

“I know. We’ll get you home and let you rest.”

“Don’t think I can get up the stairs tonight. Going to have to sleep by myself.”

“No, you’re not.” He rubs his thumb over Jamie’s knuckles. “We’ll be in there with you.”

“One of you has to be upstairs in case Mina wakes up.”

“God, you’re better at this parenting shit than I am.” Roy brushes Jamie’s hair back off his forehead, letting his palm linger. He can’t kiss Jamie here, as much as he wants to. “How do you do that?”

“I helped Keeley do her flashcards from the parenting book when she was panicking about it.” Jamie pushes up into his touch like a cat. “I’m ready to go home now, I think.”

“I’m ready to take you home. Just waiting for someone to bring us a wheelchair.”

Jamie sighs and flops back against the bed. “Does Keeley know?”

“Yeah. She’s getting the downstairs room ready for you. She’s going to fuss over you. Let her do it, yeah? No arguing.”

“What’s she going to do being the only one in the house with a job?”

Roy stares at him. “I have a fucking job, you doughnut.”

“Oh!” Jamie looks actually shamed. “Do you believe that I forgot? Like. I think I thought this was just something you do for fun.”

He loves this man so much and does not understand how his mind works in the slightest. “Well. I get paid. So you’ll be both of our kept man.”

“Don’t mind that.” His lids droop again. “Fuck, I’m tired. Can you go… try to find them or something, I really want to get out of here.”

“Yeah, course. I’ll be right back.” Having a mission is good. He’s going to hunt the medical staff down like dogs and demand a wheelchair so he can get Jamie home and tucked into bed. Make him something comforting for dinner. Keep cups of tea in reach at all times. Just fucking take care of him until he has to hand Jamie over to the surgeon.

Mike, one of the medical staff, is coming down the hall with the chair right when Roy steps outside, luckily for him. “There you are,” Roy says stiffly. “Good. I want to get him out of here.”

“Will the chair fit in your car, Coach? It folds up, but it still takes a good bit of space.”

Roy has no fucking idea, but they can fit the three of them and Mina in the car, or him and Jamie and a few gear bags, or Keeley and Jamie’s shopping. “I’ll make it fit.”

Mike looks dubious at that, but wisely keeps his mouth shut and wheels the chair past Roy and over to Jamie. “Right, Mr. Tartt, here we are, then.”

“Gonna have to help me up and over, mate.” Jamie eyes the chair. “Not gonna make that gap on my own without fucking landing on my arse on the floor.”

“Your hip wouldn’t like that at all.” Mike puts the brakes on the chair and nods to Roy. “Come help me transfer him. Pay attention, you’ll need to do this on your own for a bit.”

Keeley will help, but Roy isn’t going to point that out. “Right. Up you get, Jamie.”

They get him into the chair, and Mike helps Roy get him into the car and get the chair stowed away in the back. “Bring that back when you have a chance to get one of your own,” Mike says before vanishing back into the clubhouse, and Roy suppresses a sigh. Penny-pinching fucking club. Nobody ever made him return things at Chelsea.

Jamie’s quiet on the ride, resting his head against the window and watching the street go by. “How do we explain this to Mina?” he says after a while. “She’s got all that trauma about hospital. When I go in for the surgery she’s going to think I’m not coming back.”

Right. A six-year-old who’s lost her parents to a car crash doesn’t have a lot of emotional capacity for the concept of serious but not fatal injuries. “Well, you’ll have to be part of it, probably. Talk to her about it. FaceTime her from there once you’re able. We’ll let her come visit you if she wants to, but not make her. I don’t know what else, just react as she does, I suppose.”

“Mm.” Jamie sighs. “Roy.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t play football anymore.” He sounds bewildered more than sad, and when Roy looks at him there aren’t any tears in his eyes. Either he’s not at that point yet or the drugs are keeping him from feeling it.

“You’ll be all right,” Roy says, because he can’t think of anything else, and they finish the drive in silence.

**

The next few days are a mess, trying to get things ready for Jamie’s surgery both practically and emotionally. Roy buys a wheelchair and crutches, sources a temporary ramp for the house that unfortunately can’t be delivered for a week, stocks the kitchen with Jamie’s favorites. Keeley handles all the day-to-day logistics and gets Mina everywhere she needs to be while Roy cares for Jamie. Jamie mostly lies in bed in a haze and tells them to go live their lives and stop fussing over him.

The talk with Mina about Jamie getting surgery goes about as well as possible given the circumstances. Jamie skips a pill so he can talk to her with a clear head. She sits on the guest room bed with him, carefully on the side of his good hip in case she bumps it, while he explains that he hurt his leg and it needs to be fixed in hospital, but he’ll be all right and home in a few days.

She sits very still for a minute and then shakes her head. “You won’t come home.”

“I will, Mina.” Jamie’s voice is low and patient. “It’s not an accident, yeah? It’s all planned ahead. Just going to get my leg fixed. And then you and I will be able to do loads of things together, because I’ll be around lots. I’m not going to play football anymore.”

That gets her attention a bit. “Why not?”

“Well, the hurt leg, you know. Can’t play on it the way I do. But I’ll still be able to play with you in the park, yeah?”

It’s too many possibilities and futures and ideas all at once, Roy can tell right away, and sure enough Mina dissolves into tears. Jamie holds her and rubs her back, looking miserable, until Roy finally comes over and scoops her up and takes her to the kitchen for a glass of water and then a dish of ice cream. His foolproof, never-fail tactic.

“Will he really come back?” she asks him, and being a father is terrible, because his first impulse is to be blunt the way he has been his whole life, but he needs to cushion things now, for her. With Phoebe he could rely on his sister to undo whatever damage he accidentally dealt out, but he can’t just dump this off on Keeley. He’s responsible for half.

“Yes, he will. He’ll have to rest a lot for a while, but when he gets strong again he’ll play football with you at the park, just like he said.”

He can tell she doesn’t quite believe it, but she wants to, which is progress, really. He scoops her up again and she lets herself be hugged, and even clings to his neck. That’s progress, too.

**

The surgery goes well. Roy’s surprised to find that they have Jamie out of bed and taking careful steps in his recovery room only four or five hours later, but the relief and happiness on Jamie’s face at the fact that he can take them makes the tension in Roy’s shoulders ease for the first time since Jamie fell on the pitch.

The nurses chase Roy out not long after, giving the usual bit about the patient needing rest. Roy manages to steal a kiss before he goes, his hand lingering on Jamie’s arm. “Don’t do anything silly between now and when we come to visit tomorrow.”

Jamie smiles at him, sleepy and beautiful. “I’ll be good, promise.”

Keeley’s waiting for him when he gets home, a bottle of wine already open. Mina’s upstairs playing with her toys before bed. It’s all very quiet and peaceful and domestic and realizing that this really is his life, that all of this is his, makes Roy a bit dizzy for a minute.

They sit on the couch together, figuring out an arrangement of limbs that lets them hold each other as much as possible while still having access to their wine. “They’ll probably send him home in two or three days,” Roy tells her. “Just want to make sure everything’s healing properly and no infection or anything.”

“Good. It’s too quiet here without him.” Keeley looks tired, Roy realizes with a start—very tired, enough that it makes him think back to when she was ill, and the tension that went out of him for a bit comes back full-force.

“You need a break, love.” He carefully kisses her forehead. “When Jamie’s moving around, he and I will sort out covering Mina’s schedule and you take a holiday.”

She shakes her head, leaning into him. “I don’t want to go away from all of you. Maybe I can take some time off work, but I want to stay home. Be together.”

He strokes her hair and tries to get his fear back down to manageable levels. Don’t be ridiculous, Kent. “Maybe I can put in for more leave? It’s not ideal, but I don’t want you and Jamie to wear yourselves out.”

“Babe.” She looks up at him, a frown creasing her face. “We’ll be fine. You can’t duck out on the team, they need you. Having Jamie home full-time will make a big difference, honestly, once he’s back on his feet he can do a lot of stuff we were splitting up before.”

“But is that fair to him?” Roy shakes his head. “I don’t just want to drop everything in his lap like him losing his career is convenient.”

“We’ll talk about it. We’ll make sure everyone feels appreciated. God, you’re really worrying yourself to pieces, aren’t you? You’re so tense.” She sits up, turning to face him. “Fuck, maybe you do need to take more time off. You’re all worn down and I didn’t even notice.”

“Because you’re worn down, too,” he reminds her. “There’s been a lot going on. And normal people don’t get the choice to just stop, so neither do we.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” She cups his face in her hand and sighs. “But yeah, okay. How about this, though. Once we get Mina down to sleep, you and I take some time in the stupid giant tub we got specifically so we could both be in it at once, a thing we have done all of what, five times since we moved in?”

“Yeah, because it turns out bathtub sex is fucking awful, no matter what Jamie says.”

Keeley kisses him, slow and warm. “What about bathtub cuddling, with more wine?”

Roy tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “I can work with that.”

**

Keeley goes to visit Jamie at the hospital the next day, and the two of them FaceTime with Roy and Mina at the house. Mina cries a little bit at the sight of Jamie in the gown and bed and all, but once he starts talking she perks up. He sounds like himself, he can make her laugh, she’s at least a little bit reassured by it. Roy is too, honestly. He desperately wants to be there, holding Jamie’s hand like Keeley is.

But parenting has responsibilities, and anyway Keeley deserves time with Jamie, too. Roy takes Mina to her group session, nursing a coffee in a nearby café until it’s time to pick her up. Apparently they were making sculptures out of boxes of junk today, which is at least better than the days they’re using glitter.

“That’s very nice,” he says when she holds up an ungodly creature made of cardboard tubes and pipe cleaners and old wires and fuck knows what else. “Can you tell me about it?”

“It’s a robot,” she says. “It’s for Jamie, to protect him in hospital.”

This child. “He’ll love that.”

“Can we take it to him now?”

Roy glances at the time on his phone, as if he doesn’t know exactly when group time ends. “Not today, they don’t allow visitors this late. But we can go tomorrow. He might get to come home tomorrow, actually. That’d be great, wouldn’t it?”

She looks annoyed. “Then he won’t need the robot.”

“It can protect him at home, too. Watch out for him.” Probably he shouldn’t hint there’s anything dangerous at the house, but she mostly seems concerned with a pipe cleaner that’s trying to fall off. “We’ll glue it back on at home,” he promises. “We’ve got glue and things.”

Once they’re home, they fix the robot and set it up on a shelf to dry, then Roy makes dinner, keeping one eye on his phone for Keeley letting him know she’s on her way back.

Omw, he’s doing ok. Xx

He sends back a kiss emoji—these two have corrupted him—and goes back to the stove. He’s doing ok isn’t quite as detailed as he’d like, but she’ll tell him more when she gets there. He just has to be patient.

He switches the kettle on when her car pulls in the driveway and has a cuppa ready for her by the time Mina’s finished greeting her and showing her the robot. “Thank you,” Keeley sighs, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and clutching the tea like a lifeline. “He really is doing well but it was still a long day.”

Roy checks that Mina’s still occupied with the lolly Keeley brought her from the hospital. “How’s his mood?”

“Swings back and forth. He’d be laughing about something and then suddenly tear up about not playing anymore. I didn’t keep track but it probably went in cycles with his pain meds.” She drinks and rubs her forehead. “But they had him up and walking a bit again. And the call with you two really did perk him up, I’m glad we did that.”

“Do they think he can come home tomorrow?” He tugs her into the kitchen so he can check the oven, slipping his arm around her waist to keep her close.

She leans against him, rubbing her cheek on his arm. “Depends on tomorrow morning’s check, but right now everything’s trending in the right direction. I told him to be good and not set himself back.”

“What’d he say to that?”

“Well.” She sighs. “He got a bit agitated, but he calmed down before I left. It’s just a lot of mood swings, babe. He’s going to need some time.”

“Are we going to need to keep Mina away until he settles more?”

“No, he’ll be fine with her. It’s you and me who’ll have to brace ourselves.” She leans on him another moment, then straightens up. “How much time is left on dinner? I could really use a shower.”

**

Jamie does come home the next day; with paperwork nonsense it’s not until late in the afternoon, but Roy immediately feels immensely better just knowing that Jamie is there instead of in a hospital bed.

The downstairs room is all set up for him, and Jamie mumbles something about how Roy and Keeley didn’t have to put themselves out so much, which they ignore. They get him settled in bed, sitting up propped against plenty of pillows, and Mina climbs up to sit next to him with her coloring. Her robot’s set up on a shelf overlooking the bed, keeping an eye on everything.

“You need anything?” Roy asks, lingering in the doorway. “Tea? Water?”

“Tea would be great. Thanks.” Jamie’s exhausted and trying to pretend he isn’t; Roy knows the look. “Is that a dragon, Mina? That’s lovely.”

“A red one.” Her brow is furrowed in concentration. They look like they have things under control, so Roy goes to make the tea.

Once the kettle’s going he sags against the counter for a moment, letting it hold him up while he runs through the next few days in his mind. He’s got one more day off before he has to be back coaching. Keeley is working tomorrow and off the next, and after that Jamie’s mum is coming down to help for a few days. Jamie insists none of it is necessary, but Roy’s had arthroscopic surgery before. It’s still a fucking surgery. Healing means sleeping a lot, and having someone to bring you tea and food is just practical.

“Okay, babe?” Keeley appears out of nowhere, carrying a few empty mugs and glasses over to the sink. “Do you need to go lie down?”

“I’m all right. Just making tea.” He straightens up and rubs his face. His knee is aching, either out of sympathy for Jamie or because he hasn’t been paying attention to his posture and balance and shit like he’s supposed to.

“I’ll take Jamie’s to him. You go sit down and drink your own. Catch your breath a minute. You’re exhausted, Roy.”

“He needs us.”

“He’s got us. He knows that.” She squeezes his hand and then points down the hall. “Go sit and rest. I’ll bring your tea in a minute.”

Arguing with Keeley never does any good; if he’s learned anything over the last ten years it’s that. He surrenders, nodding and walking to the couch, groaning despite himself as his weight comes off his knee again. Fucking thing. It’s got a space station’s worth of metal in it and it’s still like this.

He hears Mina’s feet trotting down the hall and opens one eye. “You need something, pet?”

“Jamie says I can have biscuits.”

“Oh, does he.” He can’t muster an actual argument about it. “Only two, all right? Dinner’s in a few hours.”

“Okay. How many can he have?”

“Also two.”

“Okay.” She’s off again and Roy lets his head fall back against the couch. So this is what it’s like to have two children. Interesting.

**

Once Mina is in bed, Roy goes in to lie down with Jamie. He stretches out next to him on the side of his good hip, patting his thigh. "Oi, what are you doing?"

Jamie's got a bunch of papers in his hands, a pen resting on his chest, a sleepy and puzzled expression on his face. "It's the paperwork for a thing... a start-up I'm investing in. My solicitor already read it but there were a few things he wanted me to look at myself. I was supposed to have it back to him days ago, but with everything..."

"Jamie." Roy reminds himself to be patient. "With everything, now's probably not a good time either, yeah? You're on painkillers and you're exhausted."

"Well." Jamie blinks, then sighs and drops the papers to his lap. "Right. I suppose."

"It'll be fine." Roy pats his thigh again. "Put all that away and let me hold you. I feel like it's been years."

Jamie takes a shaky breath and nods, putting the papers back into their envelope and using the pen clip to hold it closed. He turns carefully onto his good hip and throws his arm across Roy's body, burying his face against Roy's chest.

"There you are." Roy strokes his hair. It's growing out again, getting messy. "I know this is all fucking awful."

"I don't know what to do."

"Right now you just need to rest and heal and do your physio. Everything else can wait." He taps behind Jamie's ear. "Maybe stop letting Mina ruin her appetite."

"She's growing. Can't ruin it." Jamie exhales slowly. "One of the podcasts got an interview with my dad. I guess the TV shows all turned him down, but..."

"Don't think about it."

"I can't help it. I can just imagine what he has to say about the end of my career."

"It doesn't matter what he says, because he doesn't know fuck-all." Roy's jaw aches from clenching. Thinking about James Tartt throws him right out of all his mature and sensible techniques for managing his emotions. "Who told you about him doing that anyway? Nobody should be bothering you with this shit."

Jamie laughs a little, a tired and watery sound. "Mum, actually. They tried to get a comment from her too and she was mad about it."

"Your mother has never talked to any press, why would she start now?"

"Don't know." Jamie rubs his face slowly against Roy's chest, his voice getting thicker with weariness. "I'm glad she's coming to help, even though I feel bad about it too. I want to see her."

"We'll make her at home." Roy has no idea how they're going to explain any of their living arrangements. Maybe there will be a miracle and she won't ask. "How are you going to introduce her to Mina?"

"As my mum, Roy."

"Right." Fair enough. He traces the curve of Jamie's jaw. "Go to sleep, love. I'll have Keeley get the light when she looks in on us."

"Mmm." Jamie sighs. "Love you. Love her. 'n all that."

Roy goes back to petting his hair as Jamie drifts off. And all that, yeah. All that.

**

As usual, Jamie pushes his recovery and physio hard. He’s not working to get back on the pitch, but he hates sitting around being useless, and also Mina called him boring exactly once and that was unbearable. Roy keeps his mouth shut unless he thinks Jamie’s going too far and going to damage himself. He remembers what the process is like, body and mind.

Jamie’s mum’s visit turns out to be a godsend. Roy picks her up at the station, bracing himself for awkward questions or just silent tension, but instead she gets in the car and promptly hands him a paper packet of homemade biscuits. “Jamie said you respond well to bribery,” she says with a smile. “I brought some for the little one, too, and some nice soaps for Keeley.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” He’s going to give Jamie a beating for telling his mother that Roy needs bribes to be nice.

“I wanted to. I always get nervous about meeting Jamie’s friends.”

“We’ve met before.” Roy guides the car into traffic, surprised that she doesn’t remember. True, it was years ago, and just quick interactions at events, but he’s sort of gotten the impression over the years that the Roy Kent live experience sticks with a person.

She laughs softly. “Of course we have, but I didn’t think you would remember me. I’m just Jamie’s old mum.”

“Jamie’s important. That makes the people he cares about important.” Right away he realizes he’s said too much, or maybe just with too much in his voice, but she just smiles again and settles back in her seat.

Keeley comes out to meet them, calling out “Linda! Hello!” and running over for a hug.

Roy carries Linda’s bag inside, intercepting Mina on her way to the stairs to hide from the visitor. “Can you say hello first and then go upstairs?”

“I don’t want to hug or sit through grown-up talk.”

Having a therapized child who expresses boundaries out loud is very strange, but Roy does appreciate the clarity. “Okay. Say hello, then, and you can go upstairs after that. What about shaking hands, do you think you can do that?”

Her nose scrunches a little as she thinks. “Okay. Hello and a handshake.”

“That’s fair. Glad we sorted that.” Roy goes down the hall to drop the bag in the second guest room and pokes his head in on Jamie. “You want to come out and sit on the couch or just have her come back here and fuss over you?”

“I’ll come out there. Meant to be out there already but I dozed off and Keeley didn’t wake me.” Jamie’s flustered, Roy can tell, and his hair’s a bit of a mess. Roy comes over to the bed and smooths it for him, finger-combing it into some kind of arrangement, then helps him to his feet.

“C’mon, then. I can’t believe you told her to bribe us.”

“Well, she knew she was going to have to bribe Mina anyway. What’d she bring for you?”

“Biscuits.”

“Ooh.” Jamie shuffles toward the door. “I hope she brought some for me, too.”

She did, and Roy makes tea so they can all eat together—even Mina, after Keeley makes it clear the biscuits are not going upstairs. Remembering to keep his hands to himself instead of petting Jamie whenever he wants is strange, and Roy’s frankly not a fan of it. But watching Jamie lean on his mother, and the soft smile he gets around her, those are pretty nice. Jamie is relaxed, and happy, and his mother promptly takes him to task for overdoing it without even having seen what he’s been up to with his exercises.

“Tell her,” Jamie says, waving his hands at Roy and Keeley. “Tell her I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“He’s pushing the limits pretty hard.” Keeley takes a delicate sip of her tea. “I believe the physio’s exact words were ‘Moderation, Mr. Tartt, or you’re going to give yourself a setback.’”

Linda gives her son a stern look. “You don’t want setbacks.”

“What does it matter?” He folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not on a deadline to get back to anything. How can it be a setback from nothing?”

“Don’t sulk, love.” Linda shakes her head and sips her own tea. “You’re a grown adult, not a little boy. No pouting.”

“Mum!”

“Oh, Jamie.” She reaches over and pats his hand. “I know it’s hard. But there’s no point moping, is there?”

Roy and Keeley both look at Jamie, waiting for what seems like an inevitable explosion. But instead he just works his jaw a few times, then twists in his seat and rests his head on Linda’s shoulder.

“I guess not,” he mumbles. “But I’m sad, Mum.”

“I know you are. It’s going to be all right. You’re my strong, smart lad, you’ll do fine.”

Roy frowns at Jamie. “How come she’s allowed to tell you things like that, but when we do, you just roll your eyes?”

Jamie shrugs. “She’s my mum, she gets away with whatever she wants.”

If he thinks Roy and Keeley aren’t going to use that to their full advantage, he’s wrong. For the rest of Linda’s stay, they shamelessly have her convince Jamie into resting and out of sulking. She’s good at coaxing him into laughter when he’s in a dark mood, and defusing his tantrums with a single look. If not for the fact that he misses their sex life, Roy would want her to stay forever.

She’s good with Mina, too; the two of them seem to just quietly agree to get along, going for walks together after school and huddling over a jigsaw puzzle at the table. Roy and Keeley’s parents have both met Mina and lavished her with presents, but there’s something just a bit at-arm's-length in both relationships, from both Mina’s side and theirs, that makes Roy’s heart ache. It must be easier for Linda and Mina to take each other for exactly what they are.

Roy thinks he’s doing really well at keeping everything discreet and bounded off and under control, so of course the day before Linda’s supposed to leave, he fucks it all up. He’s taken a morning tea in to Jamie in the guest room and sits down on the edge of the bed to chat while he drinks. Jamie’s face is soft and sleepy—he's still sleeping more than usual while his body heals—and he looks so sweet that Roy can’t help but lean in and kiss him, chasing the milky echo of the tea off his tongue.

When he breaks away, both of them smiling, he sees Linda’s reflection in the window from where she’s standing in the doorway, and he almost falls off the fucking bed.

Jamie looks up at his reaction, eyes going wide. “Mum—”

She holds her hand up, looking back and forth between their faces. “It’s not my business,” she says finally. “But just tell me, does Keeley know? She’s a lovely girl. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to.”

“She knows.” Jamie’s voice wavers a bit. “She actually, er. Well. She’s...”

The corner of Linda’s mouth twitches. “I see.” And then she laughs, and Roy’s heart does something strange in his chest. Seizes up, maybe. “A smart girl, too, then, if she’s able to make that work.” Her smile fades a little, and she looks at them again. “Be careful, all right?”

“We will,” Jamie says, his face flaming red but his voice steady now. “We are. Mum, please, don’t—”

“Oh, don’t yourself.” She comes over to the bed and pulls Jamie into a hug. “It’s all right. We’re all right. Just be careful, please, baby. All I want is for you to be happy and not let those people tear you apart.”

“We’re careful.” Roy finally finds his voice again. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for you to—”

“Of course you didn’t. I never told my parents about things like that either.”

Jamie actually sputters. “What?”

“I have a whole life when you’re not around, love.” She kisses Jamie’s forehead. “I need a cup of tea. You two take your time, and we won’t talk about it again, all right? Not this visit, anyway.”

She leaves, and they both sit very still for a moment, before Jamie twists and collapses facedown into Roy’s lap. “Fuck,” he says, loud and heartfelt. “Well. One down, four to go?”

“Absolutely not.” Roy runs his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “We’re never telling the rest of them anything.”

**

It takes a few days for things to get back to normal after Linda goes back to Manchester, and maybe Roy doesn’t realize at first quite how high Jamie’s emotions are running. He’s finished tucking Mina into bed one night and comes downstairs expecting to find Keeley and Jamie on the couch with tea and the latest episode of something ridiculous, but instead he can hear Jamie sobbing from all the way down the hall.

He almost pops his knee out running to the guest room, but when he gets to the doorway he sees that Keeley’s already there, holding Jamie against her while he cries. “It’s all right,” she says, rubbing little circles on his back. “Babe, really, it’s okay to be sad. Nobody expects you to have it all processed yet.”

“It’s been weeks.” His voice is thick and wrecked. “I shouldn’t still be fucking crying.”

“It’s changing your whole life. You can cry as much as you want.”

“I should’ve made a plan before now. It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming. Fuck, I should’ve figured things out after the first surgery.” He sits up a little and wipes at his eyes. “But I just kept pushing it off. And now here I am, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Well, you’re very lucky,” Keeley says gently, “because you have enough money to take your time. And you’ve got Roy and I to help you figure it out, however long it takes.”

Jamie nods a little, blinking more tears away. “I just. I can’t do what Roy did, you know? I can’t coach, and I can’t do commentary on telly. I don’t think fast enough to talk like that, I’d stumble and fuck up and look awful and everyone would laugh. And I can’t explain how to do things like a coach. Roy can watch someone and tell them what to fix to do it right. I would just say you’re doing it wrong, do it the right way and it’ll work. I don’t know... I don’t have words. Real jobs use words.”

“Babe.” Keeley sighs and pulls him against her again, holding him close. “It’s okay. You’re not Roy, that’s true. You don’t have to do the same things Roy did. You could do a lot of things. A fashion imprint. Have someone help you write a memoir. Just keep doing ad campaigns, that’s work. Or charity stuff. Guest on podcasts and TV shows that give you time to prepare instead of reacting live. Fuck, you could learn how to paint. You could drive for Uber.”

Jamie laughs against her shoulder, the sound watery but brighter than before. “Could I start my own podcast?”

“Absolutely you could.” She kisses the top of his head and closes her eyes. “I love you. So does Roy. So do your friends, yeah? We’ll all help you figure it out.”

He nods and takes a deep breath. “Don’t let me sit around feeling sorry for myself for too long, please?”

“Course not. But you won’t. You work hard, babe, you always have.”

Jamie nods again, and Roy can see his shoulders straightening even though he’s still leaning into Keeley. That’s their Jamie, already ticking over into figuring out how to do the work. And that’s their Keeley, steadying him and believing in him and pouring her love all over everything.

Roy slips away from the doorway and back down the hall to the kitchen. He can provide the tea, and some kisses, and get them moved to the couch for bad telly. His thing as their Roy is to take care of them, all the shit that includes, no matter what.

**

Jamie keeps getting better, bit by bit. He’s really well enough to come to a match before the end of the season, but he says he doesn’t want to distract from the rest of the team. He’ll come to one at the start of next season, he promises. The rest of this spring he’ll just take Mina on outings while Roy and Keeley are at the matches.

And they do seem to have fun on their little adventures. Roy expects he’ll take her shopping and to the park, but instead he comes home to reports of museums and the library and some kind of history scavenger hunt Jamie found online and signed them up for. Jamie shrugs off all of Roy’s questions with a little smile.

“I don’t feed her candy for every meal either, mate. I know a kid needs proper things as well as fun. And anyway the museums and things are more interesting than they used to be, I think. They have stuff to do instead of just look at, and they’ve got audio tours you can listen to on your phone instead of reading everything. I have fun, too.”

Roy has to kiss him about that, and Jamie laughs against his mouth, leaning into him easily. “Do smart blokes turn you on, Roy?”

“Smart, handsome, fit blokes.” Roy brushes Jamie’s hair back off his forehead and rolls his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

“That’s not where it’s going.” Jamie winks at him and goes to the sofa, where Mina’s watching some Disney thing or another. Roy badly wants to tell her to go find Keeley and keep herself busy for, say, fifteen minutes, but he’s got to be a good parent and all, so instead he marches himself to the kitchen and scrubs out the pots waiting in the sink.

Jamie doing better means Roy can turn more of his attention back to Keeley and realize that she’s wearing herself out a bit. He tries to take over more school runs and such, but the match schedule is tight and the manager has a lot of meetings to attend. Passing so many things off to Jamie doesn’t feel right—he didn’t sign on for this like they did, after all—but watching Keeley get more and more drawn and brittle-looking makes Roy’s chest tighten up in a panic. He’s got to figure out a way to do better and take care of them all.

He’s in Rebecca’s office when he slips, interrupting Aisha’s presentation on players they have a chance at in the next transfer window with a loud “Fuck!” as he his phone alarm goes off, informing him he’s got fifteen minutes to get to Mina’s school for a meeting with her teacher. The school is ten minutes away in good traffic. Getting to his car from Rebecca’s office in five minutes is tight. Fuck.

Rebecca blinks at him. “Roy?”

“I’m sorry. I forgot about a meeting with Mina’s teacher. Can I just have a minute to call and reschedule it? I’m not going to make it and we need to decide which of these lads we’re going for. Sorry for interrupting you, Aisha,” he tacks on the end, rubbing his forehead with the hand that’s not got a death grip on his phone. “Just. Frustrating when I forget things.”

“Let’s take ten minutes,” Rebecca says, nodding to them both. “You make your call and I’ll get some tea for all of us.”

“That sounds lovely.” Aisha closes her laptop. “I could actually do with a bio break. Back in ten.”

Roy follows her out of the office and makes his call, apologizing to the clearly annoyed teacher who stayed after for this. Fuck. He’s going to have to give the school money or do an event or something. Maybe just buy the poor woman a small car.

“Roy.” Rebecca gestures at him after he hangs up. “Come back in here.”

She has the tea ready, and he accepts a cup with a grateful nod. “I am sorry. I thought I had this all planned out but I just—”

“This meeting has already run twenty minutes over,” she says gently. “It’s hardly your fault. But why couldn’t Keeley take the school meeting? Or Jamie?”

It’s always strange remembering his boss knows his relationship status. Keeley needs to be able to talk to her friends about things, and Roy and Jamie both trust Rebecca’s discretion absolutely, but normally they have an unspoken agreement to keep plausible deniability. This, standing in her office clutching a very expensive teacup while she looks at him with raised eyebrows, is not deniable.

“Keeley’s busy,” he says finally. “And exhausted. And Jamie’s not Mina’s parent, he shouldn’t have to do this shit.”

Rebecca sits down on the edge of her desk, giving him a stern look. “I’m not sure Jamie would agree with that, would he? He certainly considers himself part of Mina’s family.”

“Yeah, but he’s not… he didn’t agree to adopt her, did he? He’s with us and she comes along with that, it’s not something he sought out.”

“Roy.” Rebecca sets her cup down and folds her hands over her knee. “I think we’ve known each other long enough that I can tell you when you’re being an idiot. Am I right?”

Roy winces. “So I’m being an idiot.”

“You are. And unfair to Jamie. If he didn’t want to be fully part of things, he would have made that clear instead of moving into your house and taking care of her when you two are busy and posting pictures of her artwork on his socials. The locked ones,” she adds quickly at Roy’s look. “Not the public.”

Roy breathes out slowly. “It does make sense when you say it.”

“I thought it might. Talk to Jamie. Draw up a schedule. You’re lucky to have three people to take turns. From what I’m told, two is hard enough and doing it as a single parent is the limit of human endurance.” Her smile is a bit tight around the edges, but her voice is kind. She’s a good woman, Rebecca Welton.

“I’ll do that. Thank you.” He lifts his half-empty cup in an awkward little salute. “Best boss I’ve ever had.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m also possibly the only boss you’ve ever had.” She returns his salute and takes a sip. “Also, you need to find a babysitter for a weekend and take a getaway with Keeley and Jamie. Reconnect a bit before these little miscommunications and assumptions get out of hand.”

“Do you think so?” He can’t say he hates the idea. They’ll probably sleep more than they’ll shag but it would still be good to have them to himself for a bit.

“I do. Tell me when you get the sitter arranged and I’ll book you a suite somewhere with a spa and a five-star restaurant.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Tell yourself it’s for Keeley, not for you, if you must.” She looks up as Aisha comes back in. “Ah, here we all are. Is the tea still hot, Aisha? If not, I’ll make you another. Let’s see if we can get this wrapped up and be able to enjoy our evenings.”

**

Jamie does seem perfectly happy to take on more of the ticky little tasks for Mina. “It just makes sense, don’t it?” he says when Roy lays out the situation. “I’m the stay-at-home bloke right now. The househusband, except I’m a houseboyfriend, I guess. I can take on the school stuff. And the grocery runs if you want. Can’t make any promises about laundry, I’ll probably send that out.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Don’t get too carried away. You don’t need a frilly apron or anything.”

“I’m hearing a request for me in a frilly apron. I’ll get right on that.” He gets up and comes around the table to kiss Roy’s forehead. “How much have you been stressing yourself about asking me to pull my fucking weight? It’s fine, Roy. What families do, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to ask you for more than you want to give.” It sounds stupid out loud. Rebecca was right, as usual.

Hurt flickers across Jamie’s face, but then it smooths out. “If I don’t want to do something, I don’t do it, mate. And I love that little girl. I’m happy to spend time with her and make things better for her and all. Even the boring shit like teacher meetings.” He frowns. “Do you think I’ve got one foot out the door or something?”

Fuck. Roy clutches at the edge of the table. “I don’t think it,” he says carefully, bracing himself against the agony of putting his feelings into words. “I worry about it, I’m scared of it, but I don’t think it.”

And thank god, Jamie’s grown up a lot over the years, because he understand what Roy means. He nods a little, kisses Roy’s forehead again, squeezes his shoulder. “Well. I’m telling you in words right now that I’ve got both feet right here. You can look at them if you want. They’re disgusting, just like yours. Not as bad as Keeley’s, though.”

“Oi.” Keeley’s voice carries from the stairs. “Why are you two talking about feet?”

“Long story,” Jamie calls back. “Keels, I’m going to be a proper kept man and do the shopping and school runs, all right?”

“Does it count as being kept when you’ve got half the money in the household?”

“Not half,” Roy protests. “And stop yelling up and down the fucking stairs, just come down here with us.”

“I’m doing a mask. I’ll be down in a bit.”

Jamie grins and starts for the kitchen. “I’ll get the tea. Gotta practice my househusband routine, yeah? I’ll order an apron tomorrow.”

“You’re both impossible.” Roy rubs his face with both hands, letting himself sag in his chair with relief as soon as he’s sure Jamie can’t see him. Fuck. Expecting the worst means he’s never disappointed, but he doesn’t get to relax much, either. Rough fucking life being the hard man.

**

Eliza says she can take Mina for a long weekend, and that the one Roy’s picked happens to be one when Phoebe will be home from uni, too. That makes it basically Mina’s ideal situation, both auntie time and Phoebe time at once. She’ll be feral by the time the three of them get back from their getaway.

He has learned over the years not to spring surprises on Keeley unless they’re very contained, like a gift or a dinner. No surprise vacations ever. He consults their shared calendars before he picks the weekend and then blocks it off and shares it with both of them. Grown-up weekend on Rebecca’s dime. No excuses accepted—her words not mine.

“Rebecca’s interested in how much we’re shagging?” Jamie asks, poking his head into the bedroom.

“Prefer not to think of it that way. She thinks we need some time together to connect and relax.”

Jamie bobs his head. “She’s worried we’re not shagging enough. What have you been telling her, Keeley?”

“That I’m too knackered to be alive and my vagina’s filing for abandonment.”

“Oi,” Roy protests just as Jamie says, “See?”

“Not your fault, babes, it’s mine.” She’s lying on her back with her forearm across her eyes. “Where’s our personal goddess sending us?”

“She won’t tell me. She’s sending her driver for us that Thursday evening, and he’ll take us to the hotel and come back for us on Sunday. Two full days, three nights, a few hours of the day on either end.”

“Knowing her she’ll book us spa time and some kind of incredible tasting menu.” Roy can see her smiling. “Sounds nice.”

“It does.” Roy reaches over and pets her arm. “If you need to sleep the whole time instead of getting down to it, I won’t tell her.”

“Mm. Not the whole time, I promise. I miss getting down to it. Miss you boys.”

“We’re right here.” Jamie comes over and climbs on the bed, pulling her feet into his lap. “Anything we can do for you now?”

Keeley laughs, a hint of tears in it. “I really am fucking knackered. But if you wanted to rub those I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you need to get a check-up? A physical?” Jamie sounds awfully stern for a man wearing a pub t-shirt and giving a footrub. “By an actual doctor, I’m not trying to start up a role-play.”

“When do I have time? But no, I’m fine. Just tired.” She reaches for Roy and he moves around until her head is in his lap and he can hold her a bit. “Don’t know where I’d be without the two of you.”

Jamie gives Roy a pointed look and a raised eyebrow and Roy nods back; yes, he will get Rebecca in on collective pressure to get Keeley to go get a fucking check-up done. Especially if she doesn’t perk up after the weekend away. One thing after a-fucking-nother.

“By the way, Mina wants to take music lessons.” Jamie digs his thumb into the arch of Keeley’s foot and she squeaks. “I’ve got her to narrow it down to flute or harp. Just barely talked her out of drums, you’re welcome.”

“Harp?” Roy asks blankly. “Who teaches the fucking harp?”

“There are exactly three teachers in London, and one of them works out of the music school down the road from Mina’s school. I’ve looked into all of it. Harps are bigger than she is and fucking expensive. Flute is cheap and easy to find and there are five hundred fucking teachers, so of course she’s leaning toward harp, but I told her she doesn’t have to decide until next week.”

“How are we going to fit music lessons into the schedule?” Roy’s head throbs just thinking about it. “Is it once or twice a week?”

“Once a week, and I’ve got it covered, you two don’t have to change anything.” Jamie sticks his tongue out. “I’m on top of things. I’m ace at this househusband gig, haven’t you two noticed? All your pants are washed all the time, we never run out of towels, I even wipe down the skirting boards every Tuesday.”

“Why?” Keeley asks, her voice a sleepy mumble.

“I don’t know, it’s just on the list of things to do when you’re keeping a house.” Jamie ducks his head and kisses Keeley’s ankle. “Anyway, I’ve got it all handled. You two don’t worry.”

“Love you,” Keeley says, and Roy echoes it, pulling Jamie down to the mattress with them.

**

Their weekend getaway starts off typically chaotic: Roy and Jamie get their bags and Mina’s packed in the morning before Roy goes to training, Keeley leaves work early to bring Mina home and pack her own, Roy goes back out to take Mina to his sister’s, Jamie runs to the shop for things Keeley forgot to buy, Roy gets home to find Keeley trying to put her work laptop in her suitcase and they have it out over that, Jamie gets home just in time to cast the deciding vote on the situation—the laptop’s not coming—and Keeley doesn’t speak to either of them until the car arrives.

Once they’re seated and pulled away from the house, though, all three of them exhale and relax a bit. They’re officially on mini-holiday. They’re no longer adults in charge of anything, they’re three people who are reasonably fond of each other going to spend a few days in an expensive hotel suite. Hard to keep up a bad mood in those conditions.

Rebecca booked them a suite with a hot tub, which Jamie is thrilled about. “Sex will be a lot better if I can warm up my hip in here,” he says, poking around the thing. “Look at the jets! I can blast my leg off entirely and then put it back on.”

Roy rolls his eyes at that and fishes a pair of shorts out of his bag. “Just get it turned on and warmed up. I want a soak before we order dinner.”

“Don’t you dare put clothes on to get in the hot tub.” Jamie switches it on and runs his hand over the side like it’s a beloved pet. “That is not why we’re here.”

“Other people have had their bare everything all over that thing, Jamie.”

“Shut up, Roy.” Jamie pushes his hair back and looks over at Keeley, who’s stretched out on the bed. “C’mon, Keels, in the tub.”

“Can we open the champagne? Or should we save that for after dinner?”

Of course Rebecca had the room stocked with champagne. She’s ridiculous and has very firm ideas about how things should work. Roy gets the bottle and corkscrew, giving in to Jamie’s nonsense and leaving his shorts on the floor.

The champagne is excellent and the hot tub is very cozy. Keeley tucks up under Roy’s arm and Jamie sits across from them, his feet resting on Keeley’s thighs. “This is so nice,” she sighs, sipping her drink. “We owe Rebecca whatever she wants.”

“What she wants is for us to relax and have a nice time. She was very clear on that.” Roy kisses the top of her head. “Especially you. You’re working too hard again.”

“I know,” Keeley says, which is possibly the most surprising reply Roy can imagine. Jamie’s eyebrows fly upward, too, and they stare at each other across the tub for a moment before Keeley goes on. “I didn’t tell you boys what happened, because it was when Jamie was still in physio and upset all the time, and you were worried about him all the time and stressing yourself out, Roy, and it wasn’t that big a deal anyway, I didn’t think it had got to me until I looked up one day and realized I was triple-booked again and couldn’t figure out how to get out.”

Jamie frowns and shifts closer to them. “Well, tell us now, then.”

She stretches her arm to put her champagne glass outside the tub, and they both do the same, because if she can’t have a drink in her hand while she talks about it they probably shouldn’t either. Cleaning broken glass out of a hot tub can’t be a fun time. “You remember that young woman I was mentoring? Liv. She was just out of her master’s program.”

Roy vaguely remembers. He never met the woman, just heard about her from Keeley now and then. From the blank look on Jamie’s face, he’s in the same place.

“Well, we had a lunch date, while Jamie was recovering. Just our usual check-in and chat about things, I thought, but when I got there she told me she didn’t want me as a mentor anymore and she had some things to get off her chest.” She sighs and leans more heavily against Roy, her face more red than the heat of the tub can account for. “Now, you two are going to get mad about this, but try to keep a grip on it, please? It was ages ago now and it doesn’t matter and the point is that I took it badly and fucked up, not that she said it. Okay?”

“We’ll try,” Jamie says, which is better than Roy could promise, so he just nods and lets her assume and get on with it.

“She said it was incredibly disappointing that I adopted a kid, that I was falling into the having it all trap and I had been such a good role model for young women to not do that and focus on one thing that really mattered to them. She was just so disappointed in me. And she’d heard other people saying—you know, she wasn’t saying but she’d heard—that I only wanted a daughter to use as a prop to pivot to an older and more conservative client pool, since I can’t play to young and trendy anymore.”

She stops to breathe and Jamie raises an eyebrow. “If you were using Mina as a prop you would’ve done better to actually have her show up in your work stuff like… ever at all. Someone who just follows you professionally would barely know Roy exists, much less Mina.”

That’s true; Roy makes an appearance at the firm’s holiday party once a year and accompanies Keeley to events when she wins awards. Other than that he keeps himself out of it. But apparently he might have to go break some fucking necks in the PR world at large.

Keeley shakes her head. “So she got all that out over drinks, first thing, and then we had to sit there and eat lunch together. I don’t know if she thought I was going to say she was right, I’d give Mina back immediately, or… what, but we just sat there like idiots eating salad. It was fucking awful. And I thought I brushed it off but I guess I didn’t, I’ve been taking on extra projects and clients and shit and letting you two down and letting Mina down. I suppose it’s all proof that she’s right and having it all is a lie but I didn’t have to fuck it up as bad as I did.” She wipes at her eyes and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Keeley.” Roy pulls her closer and Jamie immediately scrambles over to join in. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Yeah, you need to get your schedule back under control, for your health and because we miss you, but remember who you’re shacked up with, yeah? We’re a fair bit competitive. We understand wanting to be the best. We back you up on it.”

“It’s all just so stupid. I’m not supposed to be this stupid at this point in my life.”

“Why not?” Jamie asks. “I am.”

“Stop that.” She finds his hand under the water and squeezes it. “You’ve been a lifesaver and neither of us would have made it through without you. You’re wonderful.”

“You’ve just got to start cleaning your fucking hair out of the sink and you’ll be perfect,” Roy mutters, and Jamie sticks his tongue out at him.

“Half of what comes out of the shower drain is your chest fur, Roy, so don’t get too high and mighty over there.”

Keeley gags. “Stop talking about the drains.”

“Right.” Jamie leans in and kisses her properly. “We’re going to feed you and get you drunk on champers and shag you to sleep, all right? And we’ll figure out how to get your schedule down on Monday. Also. Where does Liv work, and do we know her boss, and can we destroy her career?”

“I’m not telling you any of that. And no, you can’t smash up her car, either, Roy.”

Roy grunts and reaches over to get their champagne glasses back. No career destroying, no car-smashing. That doesn’t put any limits on leaving something freshly butchered on her doorstep.

**

Roy wakes up in the morning to find Jamie and Keeley already making out, Jamie on top of her while she holds him by the wrists, keeping his hands up in the air so he’s balanced awkwardly on his elbows. “C’mon,” he mumbles as Roy blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “C’mon, let me touch you, Keeley, that’s not fair.”

“Mm, but it’s funny.” She laughs and catches his lip between her teeth.

“So mean to me,” he says when she lets it go, and then turns his attention to her neck, tucking his mouth in under her jaw to get at the delicate skin. Keeley giggles and squirms, finally letting go of his wrists so she can catch the back of his head and hold him where she wants him. One freed hand immediately slides down her body and between her thighs, earning a little squeak from her that’s one of Roy’s favorite sounds.

Roy clears his throat roughly enough to make them both look up. “Well, well. What do you two think you’re doing?”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Jamie bats his eyelashes. “Come over here and help me, she’s all squirmy.”

“Is she?” Roy shifts closer and leans in to breathe against Keeley’s mouth. “Should I do something about that?”

Keeley’s too busy kissing him to offer an opinion, and Jamie gets distracted by whatever he’s doing between her legs, so Roy lets himself just sink into it, the feel and smell of them, the taste of Keeley’s lips and tongue. He loves the taste of her first thing in the morning. It’s more intimate than anything else, he thinks sometimes.

Jamie’s moved from his fingers in Keeley’s cunt to his mouth on her, head moving steadily between her thighs. Roy reaches down to catch her leg behind the knee and draw it up, giving Jamie more room to maneuver and himself an excuse to tease all the soft, lovely skin of her inner thigh.

“Roy,” Keeley sighs, getting her hand on his cock through his briefs and giving him a good and proper groping. He’s missed this, waking up with both of them and taking some lazy time. He hadn’t even realized how much until right now. More evidence for Rebecca always being right, bless her.

Keeley makes a rough sound and her fingers tighten on him enough that he hisses in warning. “Sorry,” she whispers, panting against his collarbone. “Jamie’s being very bad.”

That earns a noise of protest, and Roy reaches down to flick Jamie’s ear. “You can be a brat later, promise.”

Jamie grumbles but gets back to what he was doing, his whole face glistening in the light making it through the curtains. Keeley moves her hand from Roy’s cock to his thigh—much safer for the way she’s grabbing hold now while Jamie works his magic. Roy kisses her again, letting her suck his tongue and moan into his mouth, until she twists against the pillows and gasps roughly, her thighs flexing against Jamie’s head.

Jamie pulls back after a moment, grinning at both of them and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Good morning. Tea?”

“If one of you doesn’t fuck me right now I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Keeley says, and Jamie lifts his eyebrows at Roy.

“Age before beauty, that’s the saying, right?” He doesn’t have a chance to wipe the smirk off his face before Roy smacks him with a pillow. Some things never change, like Jamie being a ridiculous fucking prick.

“That is the saying, so shove over.” He crawls down to take Jamie’s place and sees the exact moment Jamie realizes his mistake, his expression dropping into an outraged pout. “Nope, no backtracking, you said it and you’ve got to live with it. Go up and kiss her, numpty.”

“You’re both awful.” Jamie kisses him first, and Roy licks slowly into his mouth, reveling in tasting them both before he gets his pants off and strokes himself ready for Keeley. She’s let her knees fall apart and is waiting for him, wet and open, and he guides himself inside slowly while Jamie hides his face between her breasts.

Jamie isn’t shy about wanting his turn when Roy’s finished, so Roy pins him down at the shoulders and lets Keeley have her way with him, mouth on his cock and hands gripping his hip on the good side and his waist on the other, her wrist pressed to his scars.

“Now,” Roy says when they’ve all collapsed in a sweaty tangle, his fingers tugging Keeley’s hair out of its messy ponytail and letting it spread over her shoulders. “You said something about tea, Jamie?”

“Mmph.” He’s still got his eyes shut and looks about half passed out. “Could call down for it or there’s a kettle and teabags in the lounge.”

“Don’t think we want any visitors just now. I’m enjoying the privacy, anyway.” He leans down and kisses Jamie, letting his morning stubble scrape at Jamie’s lips until he whines and pushes Roy away. “I’ll get the tea, you two just lie here and be pretty.”

“Thanks, babe.” Keeley stretches her legs out, curling and uncurling her toes while she settles her head on Jamie’s stomach. “This was the best idea. I feel five years younger already.”

“My head does, but my hip doesn’t.” Jamie smiles down at her, drawing his knee up on the bad side. “Remember when we had that free weekend and we didn’t know where to go, so you wrote a bunch of places on paper and put them in a glass and made me draw one?”

“Course. That’s how we ended up with three whole days in fucking Galway.”

“Why did you even put that in the running?”

Keeley shrugs. “I was trying to be fair. We didn’t have the time to go any farther than Paris so I was focusing on places in the UK, and Galway is a major city, so…”

“Not like you two even left the hotel anyway.” Roy asks from his post at the kettle. “Right? Did you even step outside the room for three days?”

“We went to dinner once.” Jamie grins lazily at him. “I’m sure you two have the same story for somewhere else.”

“Copenhagen,” Keeley says with evident delight. “It was entirely because of a misunderstanding, but we had a very nice weekend in Copenhagen where we didn’t go outside once.”

Roy nods and pours the hot water over the teabags. “Denmark’s one of my favorite countries now and I don’t think I spoke to anyone not wearing an airport or hotel uniform.”

“Your ideal vacation.” Jamie helps Keeley sit up as Roy brings the cups over. “Next time tell Rebecca to get us out of London, just for variety.”

“Rebecca is going to tell us to plan our own fucking holiday next time. And pay for it.” They all settle in with their tea, and Roy lets himself revel in a moment of pure contentment. His life is fucking good. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it.

“That would be true if it was just you and me, mate,” Jamie says, bringing Roy back to himself. “But she’ll do anything for Keeley, you know it’s true.”

“It is true,” Keeley says, more than a bit smugly, and Roy has to lean in and kiss them both in turn. These mad people he loves.

**

They have their spa time later that day, and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, napping and cuddling and exploring each other’s newly exfoliated and moisturized and massaged skin.

Keeley’s carding her fingers through Jamie’s hair and Jamie’s pressing into her touch happily, his eyes closed and his mouth slack in bliss. Keeley catches Roy watching them and smiles sweetly at him, then suddenly laughs, making both of them look at her in question.

“Sorry,” she says, smoothing Jamie’s hair down. “I was just thinking, so much for the whole thing where this was going to be a V and Jamie and I were just going to be casual. Definitely lost that somewhere along the way, didn’t we, babe? I mean, I’m pretty sure we’re dating romantically now.”

Jamie blinks at her, his forehead furrowing. “I thought we dropped that ages ago.”

“I guess we did. Never made it formal, but…” She gestures between them. “This isn’t casual, is it?”

“No.” Jamie’s so sweetly puzzled, Roy wants to kiss him again, but he can’t reach his face from here. “Seriously, Keeley, you didn’t realize this until now?”

“I think I just didn’t really think about it. There’s been so much going on and I’ve been so tired, I just knew I couldn’t live without both of you but I didn’t sit down and sort through it.” She frowns, curling her fingers at the back of Jamie’s neck. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I’m not hurt. I’m just confused, really.” He looks over at Roy. “Did you not realize it either?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “I’ve known since day one when she was insisting she was keeping things casual.”

“You did not!” Keeley swats at him with a pillow. “You brat!”

“I did and I do. You’re in love, deal with it.” Roy lies back and puts the pillow over his eyes. “We’re all madly in love and that’s just all there is to it.”

He feels Jamie’s hand close around his ankle, thumb rubbing gently over the bone. “I’ve been madly in love since the beginning,” Jamie says softly. “For the record.”

“Babe.” Roy can hear them kissing, and he smiles under the pillow.

“Can we change just one thing, maybe?” Jamie asks after a while, when Roy is almost dozing off and the two of them have been kissing first intensely and then more sleepily for a good long while.

“Of course, what do you need?” Keeley snaps into full talking-about-things mode instantly; it takes Roy an extra minute, and he has to sit up and take the pillow off his face, too.

“Could I block off a few hours a week, maybe like two hours on two or three days? I do want to try doing the podcast thing, but I know I took on being Mina’s point person and I don’t want to fuck all that up. But if we can find some time I can block off where we don’t schedule things, then I can give it a proper go. I found a producer and all, he’s told me what equipment to buy and we’re working on a script to kind of structure a practice episode. I’d like to do it. But only if we can make it work for all of us. For the family.” Jamie stumbles to a halt over those words, blinking rapidly.

“Absolutely,” Keeley says, and Roy nods in agreement, reaching for Jamie’s hand. They moved around enough that he can get to it, now, and Jamie looks down at Roy’s hand on his, smiling.

“You can take some time to think about it.”

“We don’t need to think about it. You deserve to try this out, and we’re all here to help each other out.”

“You’re sure?” He looks at her, then at Roy. “Cause if you are I’ll grab my tablet and we can block it in right now, and I’ll message Darren that we can start next week.”

Keeley laughs, smoothing Jamie’s hair back again. “Oh, you’ve been holding back on asking us about this?”

“A little bit. I didn’t want to mess things up. The schedule and all.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” Roy says, pressing his thumb over Jamie’s pulse in his wrist. “I am absolutely not going to listen to your fucking podcast, but I’m very proud of you for doing it.”

“Aw, thanks.” Jamie scrunches his nose at him. “I feel loved.”

“Cause you are, babe.” Keeley pulls him up by his hair for another kiss, making him squeak as he goes, and Roy gives up on the idea of going back to his doze in favor of crawling up the bed to join them.

**

The schedule shift goes well, and Jamie’s podcast is a modest success. He gets a sponsorship deal with a chicken takeaway that leads to the entire house being covered in a thin layer of grease until Roy makes a one-night-per-week-only rule.

The rest of the season goes by, and then the summer, and Roy’s in the midst of preseason matches when Keeley sets up a coffee date for them one afternoon, halfway between her office and Nelson Road.

Roy gets there first and orders for both of them, greeting her with a kiss when she arrives and then following her to a seat on the patio, tucked back among the decorative plants. “Everything all right?” he asks once they’re settled. “Is this a date or a we need to talk?”

“Half and half.” She smiles at him as she pulls a notebook out of her purse and opens it to a page of neat bullet points. “I’ve been thinking.”

“So this is the need to talk part, and the date part comes after?”

“Yes, Roy.” She produces a pen, too, and crosses off the first item on the list. His view is upside-down so he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks that one just says Get Roy to sit down. That’s insulting. He’s not that hard to find for a chat, even in preseason.

“So I’ve been thinking,” she says again, tapping her pen on the page. “Everything’s going really well.”

“It is.” Roy sips his drink and eyes her. “Are you about to suggest doing something that will change that?”

“I think it’s something that will make it better, actually.” She draws a heart beside the next item on the list. “Do you ever notice Jamie looking at that wedding photo of the three of us?”

“Yeah.” He always does his best to distract Jamie when that happens, kissing him or calling him to another room or whatever he can. “I think it makes him a bit sad.”

“I think so too. We talked about it, about how hard the wedding was for him. He put a good face on but it was a lot for him.” She bites her lip. “Dani tried to convince him to come to Mexico instead, apparently. He said they could both skip it together, but Jamie didn’t want to spoil our day for us.”

“We didn’t know at the time, Keeley.” It’s a hollow explanation, but it’s what he tells himself. “We couldn’t have known.”

“It’s in the past anyway, I know. That’s what he keeps insisting.” She draws a star on the page. “But I think it would mean a lot to him if we all did something together.”

“We do a lot of things together.” Roy frowns. “We’re raising a kid together. The three of us are together all the time that we’re not at work.”

“Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t clear about that.” She underlines one of the bullets and turns the notebook so Roy can read it.

Have another wedding with Jamie

Roy stares at it for a moment. “That’s not… legal, is it?”

“Well, not a wedding-wedding. A commitment ceremony, then. A party with our friends and a serious bit where we tell everyone that we’re together and do something symbolic, either rings or something else, I’m not sure on that yet, and then more of the party.”

“Fuck.” Roy runs his finger over the words. “We have to get everyone together. All the lads from the old days.”

“We’ll have to be a bit discreet, of course, but we can trust all of them, and Rebecca, and Ted and Beard, and Phoebe and Eliza obviously.”

“Obviously. And the lads had a betting pool, the option of not trusting them is gone.” Roy tilts his head back, squinting up at the awning. “When can we fit this in the season? Holiday break? Pretend it’s a New Years party?”

“That might work. I’m going to see if Isaac can coordinate the boys, he’s better at that than either of us.”

“He is.” Roy leans across the table to kiss her. “You’re brilliant, you know that? You figured out how to fix it instead of just trying to push it into the past.”

“It won’t make it go away entirely, but maybe it can replace some of it?” She sighs. “Some of the hurt feelings.”

“He wouldn’t admit he had them with a gun to his head.”

“I know. It’s very annoying.” She takes his hand and smiles. “All right, we can go into date mode now. How are you, handsome?”

**

When they get the plans for the wedding rolling, it occurs to Roy that it might not be quite enough.

“Do you think Jamie would want a real proposal, too?” he asks Keeley at the sinks one night, while they’re rinsing and spitting in sleepy companionship. Jamie’s out with one of his mates, so they can plot and scheme without being overheard.

She blinks at him and rinses her toothbrush. “He might, yeah. You want to get him a ring and the whole bit?”

“I think it’s only fair.” Roy spits again and frowns at himself in the mirror. “Fuck, I have to pick out another ring.”

“I can help this time.” She tugs at his arm and he follows her to bed. “Lunch tomorrow? Pick me up at the office and we’ll grab something and then go to the jewelers.”

“Deal.” It’ll be a lot easier with Keeley’s help. Doing it himself when he got hers had been excruciating. He’d wanted to ask Rebecca for help, but instead he decided to tough it out, and it was just an insecure, stressful mess of a thing.

They pick out a heavy rhodium-plated thumb ring set with an oblong black stone that’s split in the middle with a section of white stone set between the two halves. “Pink would be too obvious,” Keeley says with a faint smile, “but I like this, too. Subtle.”

Then it’s just a matter of getting Jamie alone, which would be easy if they just snagged him before bed, but he deserves a little more formality than that. Roy plays message tag with Phoebe for three days before she gets her schedule cleared enough to come stay with Mina overnight. It’s going to cost him five hundred pounds, but that’s just Phoebe driving a tough bargain for the fun of it.

He tells Jamie they’re going to dinner, which gets him raised eyebrows but no objections. “How fancy?” is all Jamie asks, and when Roy tells him it’s a jacket and tie sort of place, he just goes to the relevant section of his closet and emerges ready to go.

Keeley meets them there, wearing a wine-colored dress that makes Jamie’s eyebrows go up again, because it definitely wasn’t what she was wearing when she left for work that morning. For a minute Roy thinks they’ve given the game away—Keeley had run over to the hotel she’d booked after work to drop off their bags and make sure the champagne and other things were set up—but Jamie seems to shrug it off, happy to focus on the cocktail menu.

It’s a nice dinner. They’ve learned to take advantage of every moment it’s just the three of them together, not letting anything go to waste. Jamie’s pleasantly tipsy and flushed by the end of the meal, beaming at both of them with open adoration, and Keeley takes his hand while Roy pays.

“Jamie, we have a surprise for you,” she says, and Jamie grins, pointing at himself with his free hand.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“If we tell you, it’s not a surprise, is it?” Roy asks, rolling his eyes but smiling as well. “Just trust us.”

“Okay, okay. Just give me an idea, then? Is it, like. A present? Or an experience? Or what?”

“It’s both.” Keeley gets to her feet, tugging him along. “First of all, we’re not going home tonight.”

Jamie’s mouth opens in a little o. “But I didn’t bring a bag.”

“Roy packed one for you. We took care of everything, don’t worry. Come on, let’s get a taxi.”

They didn’t go quite as all-out as Rebecca would have, but it’s still a very nice suite with a very nice, very big bed. Jamie flops down on it as soon as he gets his jacket and tie off, wiggling around and groaning in relief. “Fuck, you two have good taste.”

“Keeley booked it.” Roy sheds his own jacket and sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Keeley slip the ring box out of her purse and into her palm. “Sit up a minute, would you?”

Jamie gives him a puzzled look but does, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “What’s going on, then?”

His eyes go wide when Roy lowers himself off the bed and onto one knee on the floor, and his mouth falls open again when Keeley kneels down beside him. “What are you two…”

When Keeley produces the box and opens it, his words cut off and he just gapes at them for a minute.

“What,” he finally manages. “For me?”

“Yes,” Roy says, his voice threatening to choke in his throat. “If you’ll have us.”

“But…” Jamie rubs his mouth, looking dazed. “Can we do that?”

“We can do whatever we want.” Keeley tosses her head. “I don’t give a fuck what the government thinks. If you want to, we’ll have a little ceremony of our own. It’s sort of already set up, but if you don’t want to then it’ll just be a New Years party and nobody has to know.”

Roy frowns. “Wait, they weren’t supposed to already know?”

Keeley closes her eyes. “Roy. Are you serious?”

“It never occurred to me that he might say no.” Well, he’s fucked this up.

“I’m not saying no,” Jamie says, drawing their attention back to him. “I’d like to say yes, actually. If you’ll put that thing on me, I’ll say yes as many times as you want.”

“Once is good.” Roy takes the ring out of the box and holds it out to him. “Jamie?”

“Will you marry us?” Keeley chimes in, smiling up at him.

“I absolutely will.” Jamie takes the ring and slides it on his thumb, turning his hand back and forth to watch it catch the light. “This is perfect.”

“It had to be,” Roy says. “We’re trying to convince you to put up with us in the long term, after all.”

“I was already in. This is just…” Jamie trails off and shakes his head. “You know I’m not good at words.”

“We get the message, I think.” Keeley gets to her feet and cups Jamie’s face in her hands, kissing him softly. “We love you, Jamie Tartt.”

“I love you too.” He reaches for Roy’s hand and draws him in with them. “Now you should both get in bed with me. I’m ready to start celebrating now.”

**

The wedding is proof that footballers might get older and creakier but they fundamentally don't change. It’s an adults-only affair, all kids off with babysitters for the night, so things can get as rowdy as the rowdiest in the crowd.

And the old Richmond crew is up to the challenge. They drink the bar dry and engage in dance-floor antics that leave Roy worried that Eliza will have to stop enjoying herself and perform a rescue procedure on Colin's spine.

That's a problem for when it happens, though. Right now he and Keeley are enjoying watching Jamie hold court.

Jamie's been happy with them all along but the difference in him now that he feels secure is astonishing. Roy hadn't realized how much uncertainty had eaten away at Jamie until it was lifted away. He would berate himself for that, but a secure, happy Jamie is also one who leaves no time or space in life for brooding over the past. There are things to do. Places to go. Conversations to have. Podcasts to record.

(Because yes, Roy has been coaxed and/or blackmailed into being on the podcast twice. Both times went fine, Jamie's producer edited out all the slips that revealed their relationship, and they were in the top five highest rated episodes to date. Jamie's on him to do a third one once the wedding is over. Roy will almost definitely give in.)

Tonight Jamie is buzzing from table to table, carrying on four conversations at once, hugging everyone. Keeley leans against Roy's side and he puts his arm around her waist as they both watch their man.

"He was doing shots with Rebecca earlier," Keeley says after a bit. "She's a bad influence."

"She's your favorite." Roy glances down at her. "And you did shots with her too."

"Obviously." She laughs softly. "Is Ted going to do a speech?"

"Yes. He's already promised he'll cry through half of it. I told Isaac to be ready to cut him off and get him a chair."

"You're always ahead of things." She glanced at the clock behind the bar and takes a deep breath. "Right, we should get him in the back hall for a few minutes before we do this. You take the left, I'll take the right, we'll corner him."

It's really the only way to get him to themselves, but he's so tipsy and so happy to see them that it's not difficult. "I can't believe everyone could make it," Jamie says, leaning against the wall where Roy put him. "What are the chances? Everyone! Even Sam!"

"Sam wouldn't miss this for the world." Keeley smooths Jamie's hair down and smiles at him. "Are you ready to get hitched?"

"Did we decide on commitment ceremony or handfasting?" Jamie asks very seriously, and Roy closes his eyes.

"We settled that three weeks ago, Jamie," he starts, then realizes they're both giggling at him. "Oh, you can fuck right off. You too, Keeley. Just because I refuse to participate in anything that sounds like it should be in a bad novel for Mina's agegroup--"

"I thought handfasting was witches," Jamie says. "Is it not witches?"

"It doesn't matter," Keeley says firmly, before anything can get derailed again. "We're going out there and getting married. Are you ready?"

Jamie tilts his head. "I would've married you both months ago, even without a party."

"But a party makes it better, right?" Roy asks.

"Obviously. Parties make everything better. Who's doing the whole thing? And it's not the whole thing, is it? The whole church ceremony with honor and obey and all?"

"Of course not." Keeley produces a compact from somewhere in her dress and checks her face. "Dani is doing a ceremony he wrote with Isaac."

Jamie blinks. "Why those two?"

"Dani won the betting pool and Isaac is still the captain of this lot." She corrects the lipstick at the corner of her mouth and disappears the compact into her dress again. "Right. Are we ready?"

They don’t really have vows for each other; Roy hates putting things in words, Jamie struggles with it, and Keeley refuses to be the one doing all the work. But they hold hands while Dani reads the script he and Isaac wrote.

At the end, Dani smiles at them and puts his notes down. “Now, I will have you each repeat after me, one at a time. You first, Roy.” He gestures and Roy steps forward. “I, Roy, will build a home with Jamie and Keeley, to safekeep our hearts.”

Roy chokes a little. It’s not a phrasing he would ever, ever have found on his own. It’s not even a way he would have thought to frame the situation. But he certainly can’t argue with it. If that’s how Dani and Isaac see them from the outside… he’s fucking honored.

“I, Roy,” he says, his voice thick, “will build a home with Jamie and Keeley, to safekeep our hearts.”

Dani gestures to Keeley next, and she does cry when she repeats the words, her makeup not budging a bit. Jamie reaches out and brushes the tears from her face gently, smiling like he’s the happiest man in the world. Roy can’t say for sure that he is, because he himself is in the running for the title.

Dani grins and gestures with both hands. “And now you, hermano. Do I have to say it again or were you paying attention?”

“I think I’ve got it, muchacho.” Jamie laughs softly and wipes his own eyes. “I, Jamie, will build a home with Roy and Keeley, to safekeep our hearts.”

The team erupts into cheers and clapping, and for a minute Roy can’t do anything but stand there and stare at Jamie and Keeley, his people, his loves, both of them crying and looking at him with their hearts in their eyes.

“Are we supposed to kiss now?” Roy asks, and Dani grabs for his notes again.

“We forgot to put that in,” he says after a moment. “But yes, go ahead, the kiss is important!”

Every phone camera in the room goes off at once, bright enough that Roy’s dazed even with his eyes closed.

“All right, then?” Jamie says softly, and Roy nods, squeezing his hand and Keeley’s.

Keeley reaches out to touch Roy’s face, and he realizes he’s finally cracked, he’s crying too. “More than all right,” she says softly. “We’re perfect.”

**

Roy’s ready to leave immediately after the part with the ceremony and the crying, but Jamie’s not done and Keeley revels in any party, so he agrees to another hour and finds a place he can sit with a beer. The lads come up in ones and twos to offer their congratulations and hugs, and he and Beard have a nice chat about rugby, which Beard has taken up watching with his current girlfriend, who was a hell of a player in New Zealand in her misspent youth.

Roy will never understand Beard, but he’s gotten a lot of fun out of trying.

Isaac comes up to him after a while, pulling an object out from inside his jacket. “All right, mate, time for the most important part of the night.”

“Putting us in a car home for a shag and lights-out?” Roy asks, not expecting anything other than the stern look and head-shake that he gets.

“No,” Isaac says flatly. “Colin’s getting Jamie and Keeley. We’ve got to re-create this.” He waves the object in Roy’s face, and he realizes it’s the picture of the three of them at his and Keeley’s wedding, the one from the fucking living room at home.

“How did you get that?” he asks.

“I had Bella nick it last time she was over playing with Mina.” Isaac is awfully fucking smug for an accessory before the fact. “Get over here, we’re doing this. This time Jamie’s not going to be fucking dying inside, it’ll be better.”

Colin brings Jamie and Keeley over and Isaac holds the picture up, telling them to move right and left until he has them posed just how they were. Roy and Keeley are seated, Jamie standing between them with his hands resting lightly on their shoulders. This time, Roy and Keeley put their arms around him, too, and Keeley rests her head against his side.

Isaac makes an approving noise and snaps the picture on his phone, then brings it over for them to see the screen. “See, this is better. I’ll get some prints done for you.”

Since Roy found out that their wedding had been hard for Jamie, he hasn’t looked at the original picture much. Jamie’s got his professional smile on in that one, showing just the right amount of teeth, his head tilted just so to show his jawline.

In this one, Jamie’s grinning like he won the fucking lottery. His fingers are curled a bit, clinging to Roy’s jacket and Keeley’s dress. Roy lets his gaze move to where his hand and Keeley’s are on Jamie, and sure enough, they’re both holding on, too.

“That’s perfect,” Roy says, glancing up at Isaac. “Get one of the prints done poster-size.”

“You’re joking, but I absolutely will. And printed on canvas so you can frame it.” Isaac tucks his phone in his pocket and moves off into the crowd, shouting something across the hall to where Moe’s manning the playlist.

“What about your copy, babe?” Keeley asks Jamie. “The old picture. You still have it?”

“Mm. It’s in one of the boxes. I never did unpack it.” Jamie shrugs, his arm settling more comfortably around Keeley. Roy suspects he might be sneaking in a bit of a grope at her breast, but let them have their fun. “Guess I don’t need to now.”

“Definitely not.” Keeley gives a shivery giggle, and yeah, Jamie’s definitely getting handsy. These two are impossible. “Roy, do you still want to get going? We need to do one more time around the room and say our goodbyes, if you do.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Jamie says before Roy has to. “They’ll understand if we just sneak out. They all know us.”

Roy can see the good hostess warring with the undersexed spouse in Keeley’s eyes. “All right,” she says finally, “but we have to be quick, then, because if Rebecca catches us on the way out she’ll never let me forget it.”

“Spy mission.” Jamie straightens his tie and grins at Roy. “You’re our fearless leader, mate. Get us out of here.”

**

Epilogue

The beginning of January is a fucking awful time to take a honeymoon, especially with Roy’s schedule, so they don’t. They have hazy dreams to go somewhere tropical and amazing when the season ends, but somehow June rolls around and Roy finds himself driving the four of them to the ferry to Jersey.

“We’re not even making it out of England,” he mutters at Jamie while Keeley gets them a cart to move the luggage onboard. “I know this isn’t what you were hoping for.”

Jamie shrugs. “It’s fine with me, honestly. I’ve never been to Jersey. It’s just as new to me as anywhere else.”

“We’ll see how long you think that.” Roy raises his voice. “Mina. Get away from the edge. I know you can hear me. Mina.”

Jamie pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll watch her. Stop stressing out, babe. You’re on holiday.”

Roy doesn’t relax until they actually get to the hotel. St. Brélade's Bay Beach is beautiful as promised, and their suite is lovely. He stares out the window at the water, willing himself to unclench his muscles one by one. He can hear Keeley negotiating with Mina about which toys can come down to the beach with him and which ones need to stay in the room. Glad he’s not the one having that talk.

Jamie leans in the doorway. “Feeling more calm yet?”

“Working on it.” Roy breathes out slowly. “You going down to the beach with them?”

“Yes. So are you. This is a family holiday.”

“If it’s a family holiday you can’t go around wearing the fucking budgie-smugglers you usually bring to the beach.”

He must be losing his touch, because he doesn’t get a rise out of Jamie at all. “Well, that’s too bad, because I didn’t bring anything else. I did get a pair for you, though. Bright red. You want them?”

Roy shows his teeth and Jamie goes back into the other room, laughing. Once he’s out of sight, Roy lets himself smile and moves away from the window to dig his swim trunks out of his bag.

Mina struggles all the way through having suncream put on, but takes to the water happily. Jamie wades out with her and Roy and Keeley sit on loungers on the beach, squinting through their sunglasses at the sight of the two of them splashing each other.

“I didn’t know it would be like this, you know?” Keeley says after a while, and Roy lifts an eyebrow at her in question. “When we first started talking about having a family someday, I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“In a good way or a bad way? Because if it’s a bad way, I hate to tell you, we’re not fucking undoing any of it now.”

She rolls her eyes. “No, you’re stuck with all three of us. I mean I can’t remember how we ever did it, just the two of us.”

“I know what you mean.” Roy tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. Even tinted by his glasses, it’s fucking perfect. “I won’t even pretend to be offended.”

“I appreciate that.” She pats him on the thigh and stands up. “Going to switch with Jamie. You two walk up and grab a beer or something? Bring one back for me.”

Roy obediently waits for Jamie and they amble up the beach to the refreshment stand. “I can’t believe this,” Jamie says, cracking open his beer while Roy pays. “Never thought I’d have anything like this.”

“Keeley was saying something like that.” Roy tucks Keeley’s drink under his arm so he can open his own.

“What about you? Did you predict it, big man?”

Roy takes a long swallow. “Absolutely not.” The refreshment stand is up on a little bit of a rise; he can look out over the water and pick out Keeley and Mina from the color of their swimsuits.

“Can I say something sentimental?”

Roy looks at Jamie in surprise. “I wasn’t aware I could stop you from saying anything you want, ever.”

Jamie sticks his tongue out at him and then looks out at the water in the same arc Roy had before. Roy can see the moment when he finds Keeley and Mina. “I know you get sad sometimes, about how we lost some time together and all.” He turns back to Roy. “I’ve felt it, too. But I think we can wipe all that out now, right? We’re caught up. And we’ve got loads of time ahead of us. No more brooding on all that, yeah?”

Roy takes another drink, buying himself a moment to ease the lump in his throat. “I suppose,” he says finally, gruffly. “I thought you liked it when I was broody, though. Keeley definitely thinks it’s sexy.”

“Oh, you can keep brooding. Just not about that.” Jamie grins at him and winks, taking a pull of his beer. “Now that’s settled, c’mon. Let’s get back down to the beach, old man. We’ve got a holiday to enjoy.”

Notes:

- I'm sure there will not be podcasts in the future, or at least they won't be called podcasts, but I wore out my prophetic creativity on London's traffic-control laws.
- Jamie's hip surgeries are mostly based on hockey players, but footballers have had the same problems too. FAI is femoroacetabular impingement; basically, the bone has overgrown in some way that is causing wear on the cartilage. It's treated by going in arthroscopically and shaving/reshaping the surface of the bone. The second surgery he has in the fic is a hip resurfacing, in which some of the surface of the bone in the socket and femoral head is replaced with metal. It differs from a traditional hip replacement in that it preserves more of the original bone.
- The original idea for this fic was just a standalone scene in Paris where Roy and Jamie meet up years later and admit they were in love and maybe have an ill-advised hookup. It didn't stay there. Clearly.

ETA: Fixed some Britpicking errors, thanks to BelmotteTower for the heads-up. ♥

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of throw it back to you