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~*~
“Roy, look, fuck the kebabs alright? Look at the state of us.” Jamie gestures between them, and Roy looks down at his dirty, torn shirt and up at Jamie’s bloody nose. “And mate, I know I’ve probably used up my free ale, or whatever, but I could use a fucking drink.”
Roy takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. After a moment of indecision he yanks open the door of his G-Wagon and growls a little. “Fine. Follow me to mine, I’ll make some goddamn dinner.”
He’s not sure why Jamie’s eyes light up the way they do, but it’s a better look on him than the crestfallen expression on his face after Keeley’s decisive rejection.
Driving away from Keeley’s house feels strange, considering his semi-confident feelings upon arriving there just a short time earlier. The knowledge that Jamie is following him close behind is also strange. He distracts himself by mentally inventorying his pantry and thinking of what to pull together for dinner.
Though Roy has been round to Jamie’s several times, mostly because of early morning training, Jamie has never been to Roy’s home. Jamie looks around with interest as he follows Roy to the kitchen, so Roy gives him the most brusque of tours, pointing toward various rooms and grunting out their names. Jamie snickers a bit behind him, and Roy’s ever-present scowl deepens.
He hands Jamie a cold ale from the fridge and lifts his own, tapping them together in grudging solidarity of dashed hopes. They drink quietly, Jamie leaning on Roy’s kitchen counter and watching him intently. It’s hard for Roy to meet his gaze but he manages it, arching an eyebrow. Jamie shrugs and puts his hands up innocently, and Roy narrows his eyes at him. He realizes that they have developed their own silent communication.
Best friends, indeed.
After a few minutes Roy opens his fridge again and starts to pull out the ingredients for a simple pasta with chicken, which he has already baked and cubed up. He pauses when he looks at his hands, which are dirty and slightly bloodied around the knuckles.
“Wash your fucking hands,” he mutters to Jamie, knowing that his must be just as dirty.
He marches to the guest bathroom because it’s closer than the one in his bedroom, and pulls off his ripped shirt, tossing it into the bin. In the mirror he sees Jamie appear behind him in the doorway, staring. He ignores him for a minute and rinses his face and hands, watching dirty water swirl away.
“Can I fucking help you?” he finally asks Jamie in exasperation, wiping his face with a hand towel.
Jamie smirks. “Would you rather I use your bathroom?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then budge over.”
Jamie bumps Roy lightly with his hip and Roy grunts in annoyance but moves aside. Jamie strips off his soiled hoodie and makes a face when he sees that there are specks of blood on the collar of his shirt too. With a mournful sound, both hoodie and shirt go in the bin with Roy’s. Jamie cleans himself up while Roy waits, staring as blatantly as Jamie had done. Jamie’s stupid fucking hair falls forward into the water when he washes his face, and his stupid fucking silver rings flash in the light. His stupid fucking muscles flex when he moves.
Roy hands Jamie the towel when he’s finished. Jamie dries his face and then turns to Roy, and before Roy can protest or move away Jamie is dabbing at Roy’s bare collarbone with the damp cloth.
Roy’s throat goes dry. Jamie’s gaze is just a bit challenging. Challenging him to say something, to do something.
“You need a shower,” Jamie murmurs, dropping the cloth in the sink. “We both do, mate.”
Roy’s stomach swoops and he grunts. “Food first. I’m fucking starving.”
He detours on the way back to the kitchen, heading upstairs to grab clean shirts for himself and Jamie, because eating dinner shirtless seems like…a very bad idea.
Jamie accepts the borrowed shirt and leans on the counter again while Roy makes dinner, watching placidly with crossed arms as Roy moves around him. Roy thinks he should probably just order Jamie out of the way, but it’s actually kind of nice to have the company, however irritating.
It’s not really as irritating as it should be though, he realizes, reaching around Jamie for the diced tomatoes, getting up into his space in a way that once upon a time–even earlier tonight–would have meant a fight. Jamie doesn’t make any attempt to move away.
Roy’s not sure what to do with that. What he wants to do with that.
“You make a better door than a window, Tartt,” Roy mutters, mostly for show, and Jamie grins.
“I guess we should have known how that would go,” Jamie says later as they eat, breaking the comfortable silence, spinning his fork in the noodles.
“We didn’t really think it through,” Roy agrees.
“She’s right, though.”
“About what?”
Jamie shrugs, looking at his bottle, tapping his rings against the glass a few times for emphasis. “If we both thought that Keeley’s the type to be forced to choose, we don’t really deserve her anyway.”
Roy hums. “I can’t argue that,” he says with a twinge of dull sadness in his heart. It doesn’t hurt as much as he expected it to, though. If anything he feels a strange kind of freedom, of unexpected relief. A weight lifted.
Jamie’s mouth quirks up. “You agreeing with me? Call the press.”
Roy snorts. “Trent Crimm probably would have predicted it. That man…he sees too much.”
“Oh? And what would he have seen?” Jamie’s eyes are sparkling.
He would have seen a thousand little moments, leading them from enemies to friends over the course of years, to the point where Roy realizes that he is happier with Jamie in his life than out of it. A thousand things that it never occurred to him to hide, because it was Jamie fucking Tartt, and everyone knew how they felt about each other.
Except.
Fuck.
Roy swallows a too-large mouthful of ale, ignoring Jamie’s question, and clears his throat. “When did we become friends, do you think?”
Jamie blinks at him. “Amsterdam,” he says immediately, as though the answer was obvious to him.
“Fucking bicycles,” Roy recalls, unable to help his grin.
“Fucking windmills.” Jamie returns Roy’s smile.
They’re both quiet for a moment, contemplating each other over their bottles of ale.
“Took us long enough, mate,” Jamie says quietly.
“You’re still a prick,” Roy protests.
“But I’m not a prick to you. Mostly.”
Roy hums. He’s being a bit unfair, feeling a little off balance, because when he thinks of Jamie now he really thinks of heart and strength and curiosity and stubbornness and vulnerability.
Fuck.
Jamie’s just watching him, his eyes warm and crinkled at the edges. He’s not the same brash, arrogant child he was when they met. Hasn’t been for a while.
“Is it odd that we’ve barely talked about Keeley?” Jamie asks, picking at the label on his bottle.
“Do you want to talk about Keeley?”
Jamie shakes his head.
“Alright, then,” Roy says, because he doesn’t either. He squirms a little under Jamie’s gaze, so he gathers their empty plates and takes them to the kitchen. He places them in the sink to deal with later, and when he turns around Jamie is there.
“Fuck,” Roy exclaims, startled. Jamie is standing just a little closer than he probably should be. Roy can count his eyelashes and see the faint bruising on his face from their earlier stupid fucking tussle. Without thinking he lifts his hand and touches the bridge of Jamie’s nose. “Does it hurt?”
Jamie licks his lips. “Only when I breathe.”
Roy trails his fingertips down. “Fuck. We really are fucking idiots, aren’t we?”
“We got here in the end, though.”
Jamie’s full mouth fits against Roy’s like nothing he’s ever felt, and it’s better than any kiss he’s ever had. Careful and soft, questioning and coaxing. Roy slips his hand into the back of Jamie’s hair and grips lightly, opening his mouth for Jamie’s tongue flicking against his own. He tastes like pasta and ale and something else too, and Roy thinks about olfactory senses and how taste and smell are connected. He realizes that Jamie tastes familiar because Roy is so used to the scent of him, the good clean sweat smell that just means Jamie.
Roy backs Jamie up against a cabinet and leans into him, knowing that Jamie can handle his weight. He’s solid and warm, and hard against Roy’s hip when Roy gets his thigh between Jamie’s. They kiss and kiss and kiss, each drawing the other back whenever they try to pull away. Jamie grips Roy’s ribs, fingers flexing and dragging, leaving heat in their wake.
“Roy,” Jamie says against his lips, and Roy hums. Jamie tilts his head back so that Roy can tuck his face into his neck and breathe in deep. Jamie makes a strangled sound. “Should we talk about this first?”
Roy growls a little and licks his neck while Jamie shivers. “We can talk while we shower.”
Jamie moans and grips Roy harder. He rocks his hips against Roy’s and they both suck in labored breaths. “I can multitask.”
Roy yanks him upstairs by the hand, loving the strength he feels in Jamie’s fingers, holding his own so tightly. He pushes Jamie through the bedroom and into the en suite, then gets to work stripping him of his clothes without ceremony. Jamie returns the favor and once they’re naked they stare at each other, chests heaving.
It’s nothing that he hasn’t seen before a thousand times, but now that he’s allowed to look Roy drinks in the sight of him, smooth and golden, nipples pebbled and cock hard and hair disheveled. Then he realizes he can touch too, and crowds Jamie into the shower and under the warm spray.
Roy doesn’t waste time looking for the soap, just pulls Jamie into another toe-curling kiss. Their skin slides together, slick with water. Jamie’s moan vibrates against his mouth when he gets his teeth on the tendon in Jamie’s neck and tests its strength. He sucks a mark there, not able to summon the energy to care that it’s in a highly visible place. Jamie clutches at his shoulders, winds his arms around Roy’s neck.
“You wanted to talk,” Roy mutters into his throat, slipping his hands down Jamie’s waist. “So talk.”
Jamie grinds his hips slowly against Roy’s. “Changed my mind.”
Roy grunts at him and shakes his head. “Talk.”
“Don’t want you to stop.” His voice is plaintive and just a bit shaky.
“We can do both.” Roy pulls him even closer and runs his fingers over the curve of Jamie’s round arse.
Jamie whimpers and drops his forehead to Roy’s shoulder. “Fuck, Roy. Keep touching me.”
“Where?” He teases between Jamie’s cheeks.
“There. Anywhere. More.”
Roy’s fingers still their motion, resting over Jamie’s hole with the lightest pressure. “Jamie. Talk.”
“I like you,” Jamie blurts out, his arms tightening around Roy’s neck like he expects to be shoved away.
Roy’s heart skips a beat, blood rushing loud in his ears. “I like you too.”
“No, I mean…”
“I know what you mean.”
Jamie lifts his head to look at Roy, searching his expression. Roy takes in the uncertainty in Jamie’s eyes, the almost-fear, and curses anyone who ever made Jamie doubt his own worth, including Roy himself. Roy pulls his hands back up to curl around Jamie’s back. Jamie bites his lip and Roy kisses him, keeps kissing him until Jamie starts to kiss him back, shivering in Roy’s embrace.
“This ain’t about Keeley,” Jamie whispers, separating their mouths only enough to speak. “It’s not because she said no.”
Roy nods. Jamie’s lips are warm, catching against his.
“I’m kinda glad she did though. Like, is that strange? I thought for so fucking long I knew what I wanted, and it was her. You snuck up on me.”
“Is this too fast?” Roy traces his fingertips up and down Jamie’s spine and he bends back into the touch, so responsive. “This is fast.”
“Is it though? Really?” He presses a kiss to Roy’s collarbone.
Roy doesn’t answer, but he grabs the soap and begins to touch Jamie everywhere he’s been longing to for years but never let himself acknowledge. Jamie practically purrs, eyes closing in pleasure when Roy rubs over his nipples and down between his cheeks, then turns him so that he’s pressed up against Jamie’s back. He reaches around to take his cock in hand and strokes him slowly. Jamie melts back against him like a puppet with cut strings, moaning his name, his head lolling back on Roy’s shoulder. Jamie’s abdominal muscles contract under Roy’s other palm where he holds him tight.
When all the soap is rinsed away Jamie rouses himself and returns the favor, washing Roy with slow, exploratory sweeps of his hands. Eyes closed, Roy doesn’t even register that Jamie is moving until he feels Jamie’s tongue on the head of his cock. His hands fly to Jamie’s head and he stares down in shock as Jamie sucks him into the hot channel of his mouth, looking up at Roy with hooded eyes as the water pelts down on them both.
“Fuck, Jamie,” Roy grunts, fingers spasming in Jamie’s hair. Jamie just hums low in his throat and swallows around his cock again and again before pulling back to tease at the slit with his agile tongue. Roy feels himself leaking into Jamie’s mouth, and he’s nearly incoherent with pleasure by the time Jamie finally pulls off of him, panting.
“Fuck,” Roy says again, stroking Jamie’s wet hair. “Fuck.”
Jamie smirks, looking both smug and hopeful. “Will you? Fuck me?”
Roy yanks him up into a kiss that’s salty and bitter with his own precome, licking it from his mouth until Jamie tastes only like Jamie again. He flails a hand at the tap and turns off the water, then bundles Jamie into a clean bath sheet and leaves him to it while Roy quickly dries himself off.
Jamie stretches out across the bed, long and lovely, but it’s too dark in the bedroom so Roy turns on the bedside lamp. Golden light glows through the room and Roy takes a moment just to look at Jamie, the rise and fall of his chest, the flex of his muscles as he drags a hand down his own stomach to lazily stroke his cock. His eyes are lit with a soft fire and his damp hair falls in an unkempt tangle across Roy’s pillow. He looks like he belongs there.
With his free hand Jamie makes a beckoning motion and Roy crawls up the bed over his body, kneeling in the cradle of his spread thighs. He touches Jamie’s full mouth, feeling the warmth of heavy breath on his fingertips. Lines they had drawn years ago blur and disappear as he leans down to kiss him, softly and with the understanding that they are more to each other than just these touches, more than they had expected but not more than they can handle.
He thinks, with no small amount of chagrin, that he knows Jamie better than he ever knew Keeley.
“C’mon granddad,” Jamie says with a soft smirk. “Aren’t you tired of waiting?”
Roy narrows his eyes menacingly but doesn’t mean it at all, and Jamie’s grin lets on that he knows it. He doesn’t have to reach far to get the lube from the bedside table, which is good because he doesn’t want to move any further away from Jamie than he has to. He shifts to Jamie’s side and nudges apart his thick thighs, rubbing over his hole with slick fingertips, biting at his nipple to distract him as he slips one finger inside. Jamie arches and gasps, gripping the back of Roy’s neck. He feels both powerful and humbled as he watches and feels Jamie writhe with pleasure at his touch.
At two fingers Jamie curls toward him and tucks his face into Roy’s throat, and at three fingers he’s panting and shaking.
“Please,” Jamie whispers, and Roy pulls his fingers free in order to slick up his cock. Jamie rolls over and tilts his arse up, and Roy has to take a minute to get his own breathing under control, watching. He kisses along Jamie’s spine and lines himself up, then slips inside Jamie’s tight heat.
“Fuck,” Roy says, and it’s reverent. Jamie rests his forehead on the mattress, and Roy watches his hands flex on the sheets as he flutters around Roy’s cock.
“It’s been a long time,” Jamie says brokenly, and Roy’s heart unexpectedly aches.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promises.
“I’m not fragile,” Jamie protests. “Just…I meant…”
“I’ll be gentle,” Roy says again, slowly. Jamie lets out a shuddering sigh and relaxes around him, the fight easing out of his tense spine.
Roy kisses his shoulder blade and begins to move. Jamie’s long, low moan is gratifying, the sound going straight to his cock. Jamie trembles under his hands, rocking back into him in little shivery motions. Unbidden, Roy has flashes of memory–Jamie fucking Tartt smirking at him, strutting like an absolute prick, showing off on the pitch, making Roy see red every time Jamie caught his eye and winked–and he stares at Jamie now, vulnerable and honest, quietly evolving into the man Roy always hoped he would become. Jamie lifts his head and cranes his neck to look back at Roy, and Roy loses his breath at the depth of feeling he sees in Jamie’s eyes.
He sits back on his heels, resolutely ignoring the strain on his knee, and pulls Jamie upright so that he’s resting his weight against Roy’s thighs. Roy pulls him tight against his chest, and he can’t thrust in this position but he grinds slowly against Jamie’s arse. Jamie whimpers and tilts his head back against Roy’s shoulder, and Roy buries his face in Jamie’s throat.
Words are burning on his tongue, but he can’t say them so he licks them onto Jamie’s skin instead. He wraps one arm in a tight band across Jamie’s chest, and with the other he fists Jamie’s cock and begins to stroke. Jamie wails, trying to thrust into Roy’s hand, but he has no leverage so he’s trapped at Roy’s mercy. Slowly the tension bleeds out of his entire body and he relaxes back against Roy, letting him do as he likes.
The fire slowly builds in Roy’s belly as he barely shifts in Jamie’s body, feeling the quivering around his cock of muscles unused to the intrusion. He can sense his orgasm on the horizon and he intensifies his stroking of Jamie’s cock, while Jamie reaches back to grasp whatever part of Roy he can reach.
“Roy,” he whispers, his head rolling from side to side restlessly. “Roy.”
“I’ve got you,” Roy says, kissing his temple. “You’re doing so good for me.”
A heavy shudder rocks Jamie’s body and he groans, spilling into Roy’s hand as he pulses over and over around Roy’s cock. Roy groans out Jamie’s name and pulls him tight, grinding hard into his arse as he comes, flooding Jamie with his release.
Jamie whines, panting, and Roy lets him slowly fall forward to catch himself on the bed. He pulls out as gently as he can and Jamie gasps, collapsing. Roy wipes his hand on the already soiled sheets and carefully climbs off the bed. His knee is screaming at him but he can’t bring himself to regret any part of what just happened. He’s never felt such an undeniable connection to someone during sex, not even to Keeley.
He gets a wet cloth and cleans Jamie up with soft touches. Jamie seems stunned, blinking slowly at Roy, reaching for him. Roy drops the cloth to the side of the bed and lies down next to Jamie, who curves and clings to him. Roy strokes Jamie’s damp hair and he hums a small satisfied sound.
“I’m not gonna say it,” Roy murmurs into Jamie’s hair. “I’m not ready yet.”
Jamie shakes his head a little. “Neither am I. But I think I feel it, you know?”
Roy nods, his heart thumping almost harder than it had while they were having sex. Surely Jamie can feel it shaking his chest like an earthquake. He gathers Jamie tighter for a moment, then eases up.
“I wasn’t jealous of you, earlier,” Jamie mumbles, running his fingers through the hair on Roy’s chest. “I was jealous of her. Didn’t know how to say it. Seemed easier to challenge you. Felt familiar, like.”
Roy hums, wondering if that had been the case for him as well, unknowingly. The whole evening has been a mess of feelings, like a child’s drawing in a mud puddle, and all the things he’d thought he was building toward have been eclipsed by what he’s had all along. He closes his eyes and runs his fingers over Jamie’s knuckles, pressing kisses to Jamie’s head.
He can’t help the way his mind looks to the future now, a new future that he and Jamie might be ready for, but the world at large will not be.
“This is going to be fucking hard,” he warns Jamie gently.
“Worth it,” Jamie says sleepily, his body going lax and heavy.
And yeah, it’s worth it in the end.
~*~