Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jamie has never really had friends before; is the issue. 

Sure, he’s always known a lot of people. He’s always had people he could go out with, get a drink, go to the pub. But he’s never had like, people, he could actually rely on. Talk the big stuff with. Or the little stuff. Even when he was a kid he never really had friends. 

When he was young he was a scrawny little shit, an easy target to get pushed around. Then when he became good at football he realized he could turn that around, and he learnt early that it was far better to be the bully than to get bullied. Especially when he was getting it from all angles.

At home. 

At school. 

He found a place he could be bigger, better and it made the scars at home ache a little bit less. Even if it meant he was a bit of a shit person, taking out anger on people that didn’t deserve it. But Jamie hated feeling like the little guy and out of control. He couldn’t find control at home. He had to find it somewhere. 

Find a place he didn’t feel fucking useless and scared all the time. 

Then when he started football it was easier to pretend to be larger than life. A carefully crafted shield he could use against the world to ensure nobody knew what was happening behind closed doors. It's a simple formula, keep people at a distance so they don’t know. Hurt them before they hurt you. It was easier. More manageable. 

And it worked. He was on top of the world. The height of his football career. Loved. Adored. Feared. 

Nobody could touch him. Mostly. 

It worked. Mostly. 

For a while. Until it didn’t. Until his dad, like always, just made it worse. No amount of hiding from the world could bridge that gap. He tried leaving Man City. He tried going on Lust Conquers All. Nothing seemed to fill the void. Nothing could ease the hurt, the physical and emotional scars. 

Then he came back to Richmond and he realized how truly fucked up it all was. How truly fucked up he was. He wanted to change. He wanted to be better. A better teammate. A better friend. A better player. 

Shit, just a better person. 

And he worked hard. He kept his head down. He tried his hardest to not immediately snap at people. Tried to reign in his prince of prick act. It didn’t happen overnight, but somewhere along the way it happened. Richmond became his home and this team became his family. 

Suddenly instead of spending lonely nights at home drinking or at some random bar with people he barely knows, his training at 4am with Roy fucking Kent and they’re getting breakfast afterwards. He's hanging out with Sam as he does inventory at his restaurant. He plays FIFA with Colin until all hours of the morning. Dani is carpooling to and from work every second day. 

He has actual friends. A place. 

It’s bizarre as all hell. 

But it brings a warmth he couldn’t possibly understand before. Having people who he can have fun with, trust. Rely on. 

It’s also a completely foreign concept to him. He’s not used to actually caring and worrying about others. He worries when Danis smile isn’t as large as life because he misses home. Worries when Sam falls during a tackle and doesn’t immediately get up. Worries for Colin when he has to deal with particularly bad comments online. He even worries about Roy when his movements are stiffer than usual, his knee playing up. He wants to shield his friends from the bad in the world, protect them where he can. Theres not much he can do really, but he’s found just being their and sitting with people, talking actually helps.

Who knew? 

It’s an even weirder concept when he realizes that they care back. 

Jamie even thinks if these were normal people - normal friends, they probably wouldn’t care as much as they do. Wouldn’t be this perceptive. However, he has somehow managed to make best friends with none other than Dani Rojas and Sam Obisanya. They are both warm rays of warm sunshine. Cups of tea on cold days. Bright lights at the end of a tunnel. Warmth and hope, and friendship. 

Surprisingly, also two of the most perceptive players on the team, and fucking traitors apparently. 

Jamie didn’t think about what actually having friends would mean. He knew it meant being nice and caring about other people, listening to them. And honestly that comes a lot easier than he was expecting. It’s easy to care about Sam and Dani, Colin and Isaac. Heck even Roy. They’re good people and it makes him feel good when they’re happy and all that shit. 

What he didn’t anticipate, nor have any prior experience with, is that it’s a two way street. 

Jamie first realizes this one morning when his head feels like it’s about to be split open as he’s walking into the training room, sunglasses and cap covering most of his face. Jamies no novice to headaches. Mainly from lack of sleep - which is also something he experiences regularly. Nightmares and insomnia have plagued him for years but he’s learnt to get by on little to no sleep over the years. 

Nobody had ever questioned it before, and he has no reason to ever tell anyone. He deals with it on his own, like most things in his life. 

He’d been fortunate lately not to experience anything too bad that some ibuprofen didn’t clear up quickly enough, even if a dull throb was left behind. When he woke up this morning though he knew this was different. The throbbing didn’t stop after some medication and he felt nauseous, like he might puke at any moment. Despite how he was feeling, not turning up to training was never an option. Just not what he did.

So he took an uber into work, not trusting himself to drive, chucked on some comfortable clothing and his sunglasses and headed to the race track. 

Surely some fresh air would do him good, he’d be right as rain in a few hours. And if not he could just get through the day and hold up on his bed with some lame reality show later. 

As Jamie enters the locker room, it’s noisy and loud, and smells distinctively like boys, he realizes he might not be as right as he thinks. Not much he can do about it now though, not like he’s going to go home. He doesn't want to draw too much attention to himself, the last time he said he couldn’t train still uncomfortably at the back of his mind, and he can’t be seen as soft. Instead he changes slowly into his gear, hands tangled up in his shirt as he keeps his head low and doesn’t engage with anyone. 

He doesn’t think much of it, not talking to anyone. Isaac and Colin try to involve him but he shrugs them off easily and they drop it quickly. Some of that Jamie Tartt shittiness, still peaking through. So much apparently they don’t even bother him, just mumble and joke about how Jamie must be in a mood. 

It doesn’t sting. 

He’s used to it. 

Everyone is filing out when Jamie realizes he’s missed instructions from the gaffer. Didn’t even see Lasso come in let alone hear him. He only realizes everyones moving when he feels a presence looming over him, and suddenly fingers are on his neck.

He flinches on instinct, but when his eyes snap open Dani is looking down at him with concern. He doesn’t comment on the flinch, nor does he move his hand. Jamie is both grateful and embarrassed.

“You okay muchacho ?” Dani frowns, fingers pressing into his neck a little which surprisingly eases the tension Jamie can feel himself holding. 

“Fine.” Jamie croaks out. He lets himself indulge in the touch for only a moment before standing, creating distance between Dani and himself. He stumbles a little and he can see the concern written clear as day on Danis face. Gone is his usual smile and bright eyes, looking on at him with an intense worry not suited for his features. 

It’s extremely disconcerting. Jamie has no idea what to do with it. 

“You do not seem fine.” Dani continues to frown and Jamie shrugs him off, hands still tangled in his shirt. 

A stupid nervous habit he hasn’t been able to drop. His dad berates him for it every time he sees him do it and he has ruined more than one shirt because of it. 

“I’m fine. Let's go.” Jamie doesn’t mean to snap, but he does. Dani however doesn’t seem phased at all by it. The words roll off him easily. 

This is usually the part where people announce Jamies just being a prick. Whatever, he can look after himself. 

Instead Dani grasps Jamie's bicep to stop him moving away. 

“If you are hurting, you should tell someone.” Dani supplies. His tone is easy enough, but Jamie knows there's a hidden meaning behind it. He knows that Dani is able to read him better than he lets on. Is far smarter than he lets people think of him. He squirms under the realization that Dani isn’t rising to his bait, instead pushing for answers. 

Jamie looks at him, squinting a little at how his head hurts. He could snap again. Be more fierce this time. Get him to really back off. The old Jamie would. Tell him to mind his own business, fuck off even. 

The old Jamie has countless times. 

It seems unnecessarily mean though, even if he’s not willing to share this part with him yet because it feels too much like an exposed nerve. 

It’s just a sore head anyway. Nothing major. He’s had major before.

Still, Jamie's unwillingness to be mean outweighs how uncomfortable he is with the attention. He’s sure Dr Sharon would call that growth or something.

“Just a headache man. I’m fine.” Jamie shrugs. As soon as he admits it he knows it's both the right and wrong thing to say, depending how you look at it. 

The pillar of information is hardly groundbreaking, but Dani smiles warmly at him. Like him just admitting he has a headache is a sign of trust. Like Jamie has let a little piece of his wall down that Dani is going to worm his way through, whether he likes it or not. 

For some reason, with that sentence alone Dani seems brighter and they make their way to the pitch. Danis leads him, with an arm settled comfortably around Jamie's neck, holding him in tight as they walk. Secure. 

Weird.

Dani only lets him go when they start warm ups, and if anyone on the team notices anything weird they don’t say anything. Or if they do Jamie isn’t paying any attention. His only focus is on trying to keep up and not puke. He can’t fathom much else as the throbbing behind his eyes gets more painful as time wears on. 

Maybe if he’d been paying attention at all he’d notice Dani and Sam conversing between runs, heads hung together, whispering and looking over at him. Maybe he would notice their frowns in his direction.

Maybe he would have noticed Sam running up to the coaches and talking to them, while gesturing towards him frantically. 

Jamies is too busy focusing on his breathing to notice anything much to be honest. He feels like he’s going to puke and when he doesn’t feel like he's going to vom the world is on a bit of an axis. Maybe he underestimated the extent of the headache. 

Finally they’re done and Lasso tells them to hit the showers before lunch. Jamie can feel Danis solid presence next to him, like it has been the last half an hour. Hovering around closely, like he might have to catch him or something stupid. 

Jamie promptly ignores him, but he doesn’t snap like he usually would have. Again, growth.

“Tartt!” Roys obnoxious yell pulls him out of his train of thought as he gestures him over. Jamie squints and considers how much trouble he’d be in if he simply ignored the old man. He almost considers Roy and him friends now, but the man is still his coach. Still a grumpy old bastard on the best of days. Doesn’t like to be ignored. 

He decides it would be too much trouble and he makes his way over slowly, Dani still right at his side. 

“Rojas, showers. You too, Obisanya.” Roy demands once they're not shouting distance. Jamie hadn’t even noticed Sam was trailing him as well. He glances over his shoulder to see Dani and Sam both hovering closely behind him, like well trained guard dogs. 

How long have they both been following him?

Jamie ignores it in favor of hyping himself up for this conversation. He’d been sloppy today, Roy is probably going to keep him back for extra training. 

“Sup coach?” Jamie plasters on his best cheeky smile, despite his head throbbing. He’s made it through half the day already without throwing up or snapping at anyone. He can keep going for a few more hours. He watches as Sam and Dani reluctantly walk away, glancing over their shoulders at him every few seconds. He gives them a fake salute, hoping it comes across as funny and not desperate. 

Roy doesn’t say anything, just looks him over. Assessing him. Jamie tries not to squirm under his gaze, he tries to stand tall and confident. He’s pretty sure he fails. 

“You get migraines.” It’s not a question, even though he’s kind of phrased it like one. Which is confusing for Jamie. He doesn’t really know what to say to it. 

Jamie doesn’t get migraines. He gets headaches, sometimes. But it’s nothing. 

“How long?” Roy asks this time, his usual exasperation coming through. With a hint of something else Jamie can’t quite place.

“What are you on about?” Jamie asks dumbly. He’s not sure what exactly Roy is talking about right now and honestly his head hurts too much to try and decipher it. 

Roy growls lowly. “You shouldn’t be playing with a migraine Tartt.”

Jamie stuffs his hands into his shirt and swings a little anxious. “I’m not.” Is all he says. Because he knows this is a trap. The one he stupidly fell for with Dani. By admitting it was just a headache, not something worse. Meant he admitted something was wrong in the first place. 

Which apparently has gotten him into this extremely uncomfortable conversation, where Roy looks like he is having some kind of aneurysm over Jamie having a bloody headache. 

Roy raises a commercially large eyebrow at him and does what Roy Kent does best. Waits him out.

Jamie fucking hates it when Roy does that. Just waits. Because Jamie can’t handle the silence, he needs to fill the void with noise. Roy knows this. Uses it against him to get information out of him. Like getting him to admit that he doesn’t like spinach in his omelet the other morning, which guaranteed was a little bit weird. 

“I’m fine. I trained well.” That's a bit of a lie though isn’t it, he wasn't at his best today. He was slow and sloppy and had to stop a few times because he thought he might puke. He even stumbled once or twice where Dani or Sam were in reach to help right him. 

One quick glance at Roy lets him know he saw all that and probably more. His initial reaction is to clam up and defend himself, but the way Roy is looking at him stops him. It’s not anger or disappointment written on it. This is not James Tartt about to tear him a new one for being sloppy. 

No, Roy looks concerned. Which if he’s honest is even more odd. Anger Jamie can handle, he can combat anger with defense and prickliness. He’s not used to concern. 

“Not the point is it you fucking muppet.” Roy says instead, arms crossed over his chest. “If you're not well you need rest. And I shouldn’t have to hear from Rojas that you’re unwell.”

“Ya don’t need to baby me.” Jamie frowns and feels his hackles go up instinctively. He adds defensively.  “Danis a fucking liar.” 

Actually he’s a fucking traitor but Jamie isn’t about to say that. 

“Someones got to look after your well being if you’re not going to you. Come on, we’ll get you something strong and then you need to sleep it off.”

Roys already turned around and walking back to the pitch, leaving Jamie standing there a bit dumbfounded. That's not how he expected the conversation to go. 

“I’m not a baby. Don’t need a fucking nap.” He shouts, but whines when it hurts his head. Suddenly his world spins for a second, but he rights it well enough. 

When the world is back in focus, Roy has turned around, clearly watching him carefully. He saw the slip up. He’s a goner now. 

“Your words not mine Tartt.” Roy yells. “But if you don’t get your ass into gear now I’m going to stick Lasso on to you, you overgrown child.”

It’s a weird threat, as far as they go. But something about it has Jamie's face flushing and moving quickly. The last thing he needs is Ted’s weird dad branded concern. 

“I’m fine.” Jamie sighs as he walks in tandem with Roy, Roy taking him straight to the medics and not the locker room. He feels like he’s being walking to his deathbed and not to get stronger pain meds.

As he takes a seat on a med bench Roy raises another one of his stupid hairy eyebrows, unconvincingly at him. He has a weird feeling in the bright lights of the room he probably looks about as shit as he feels. Suddenly the fight is draining from him and he’s just tired and sore. 

The urge to puke suddenly takes over him so quickly, and it’s only Roys quick instant that he must have picked up from Phoebe that a trash can is in front of his face and the contents of his stomach ejects out of him. 

Shit. 

“Fine my ass.” Roy mutters, part disgusted and part clearly just done. “Lucky you’ve got your muppet friends to tell someone you’re about to kneel over and die. Take fucking care of yourself Tartt or I’ll make sure someone does.”

It’s another weird threat, because it sounds kind of nice, but Roy says it in that tone where he’s just yelling. 

Fingers are suddenly carding through his hair and he slumps next to the warm solid body that must be Roy Kent. And Jamie doesn’t have it in him to feel too weird or embarrassed by anything, just indulges in the comfort that he knows can’t last forever. Nothing ever does. 

It’s weird having friends. 

Maybe he could get used to it.

It turns out, it's a lot harder to get used to then Jamie thought. After the headache incident - where he had been sent home after puking to sleep it off, he’s as embarrassed as he is confused. Because Sam and Dani constantly kept checking on him. Calling and texting to make sure he was okay. 

When he was cleared to come back the following day Dani had picked him up, taken him to the track and kept asking if he was okay and questioning him about his headaches. 

“Do you get them often?” Dani asked curiously, turning to Jamie in the passenger seat where Jamie squirmed uncomfortably. 

“No.” Jamie replies too quickly. When Dani just looks at him, all very Roy Kent like, Jamie sighs and slumps in his seat like a child. “Sometimes. No big deal.”

“When do you get them? Do you drink enough water?” And then proceeded to fucking interogate him about it. When they finally get to the race track Jamie has almost had enough to snap, but then Sam starts on him while theý’re changing. Asking all sorts of questions and finally Jamie does snap. 

“What does it matter?” Jamie demands, looking crossly at both of them. But also a little, overwhelmed by the attention. Sam and Dani don’t seem phased by his outbursts, not like they used to, they just share a look between them and it dawns on him in that moment that they’re not scared of him. Not even a little bit, they’re just plain worried about him. 

He doesn’t know when that happened nor what to do with it. 

“It matters so it does not happen again, my friend.” Sam says slowly, standing up and resting a gentle hand on Jamie's shoulder. “You do not have to bear these burdens alone, and we will not let you.”

That completely takes the winds out of Jamie's sails. He simmers down, the anger deflating out of him as Sam smiles warmly at him. 

Is this what it's like to have friends?

A weird line has been crossed now at Richmond. And Jamie has never felt more a part of a team. Or a family. But mostly, he has created a little circle with Sam and Dani. A grown man probably doesn’t have like, best friends or whatever. It's a bit weird, but Sam and Dani are something special. He spends most of his time with them, looks out for them on the pitch, celebrates with them after a win or loss. A line has been crossed, and he’s not mad about it.

It’s weird and confronting, having people know him so well and want his best all the time. But he’s taking Dr Sharon's advice and allowing people in. 

This new vulnerable part of Jamie isn’t tested until a few weeks later. It’s at training again, because of course it is. But this time Jamie's inability to admit defeat has as much to do with his own self preservation as Colin’s. 

Colin, the fucking muppet, wasn’t paying attention and instead of taking the ball off him tackled him to the ground. Jamie could feel the momentum colliding with his shoulder as he went down hard. A groan and gruff heard from the Welsh man as they tumbled on the ground in a tangle of mess and limbs. Jamie can feel his shoulder slide painfully. It's sprained, not dislocated, he knows this difference. But it stings just the same. 

His eyes are shut tightly as he breathes in deeply, giving himself a moment before he gets back up. He’s just about to plaster on a big fake smile so Colin doesn’t feel bad about taking him down, shake it off and ice it later when he feels someone looming over him, and a gentle hand is covering the shoulder not in pain.

“Jamie?” Sam's gentle voice is heard and Jamie's eyes snap open. He's met with Sam's intense concern, looking over him to see if he can tell what's wrong just by looking at him. Jamie hasn’t moved yet though, and it's really not that bad so he can play this one off. 

And this time it's not even for his benefit. Sure, he doesn’t need anyone fussing over him like worrywarts or babying him, but he also really doesn’t want Collin to feel bad about the tackle. Sure, it had been a shit fucking tackle, but he knows Collin will feel bad if he’s taken Jamie out for even just a few days. 

“I’m fine.” Jamie says, tone void of emotion, anger or otherwise. He knows now if he gets defensive, Sam will know somethings up. He’s learning. 

When he meets Sam's eyes again he looks back pleading with him. He glances over to Collin quickly who is looking on anxiously, biting his thumb nail. “I’m fine, just help me up, please.” Jamie says quieter this time, trying to convey without words to Sam the gravity of the situation is bigger than just him this time. That he’s not the one to be worried about here. 

Jamie has been thrown around plenty in his career, his life. This is nothing. 

Sam bites his lip as he’s still kneeling over Jamie, hand still resting on his good shoulder preventing him from moving, looking down at him with clear concern. He knows Sam understands what he’s asking, he’s just not sure what’s going through the other man's head. 

“Are you hurt?” Sam asks again and Jamie rolls his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” He insists again, this time a little more forceful. He should have known better.

“Coach! Jamie's hurt!” Sam’s voice instantly rings through the field. Then chaos erupts. 

Jamie swears. “You fucking traitor Sam!” He tries to lift himself up but he’s pushed back down by the man who has the absolute gal to shrug and not look the least bit sorry about tattling on him. 

“You matter more than Collins pride, my friend.” Is all he supplies and if that aint the fucking worst thing he’s ever heard.

Before he can hope to god the ground swallows him whole or someone gets him out of this hellscape, Lasso, Beard and Roy have all jogged up to him and now theirs a team of fucking giant footballers and coaches crowding him while he lays on the floor like a bloody mug.  

“Alright boys, give him a bit of space.” The Kansas accent breaks through the chatter but he can still hear Collin weapily telling Issac he didn’t mean to, somewhere above him and Jamie closes his eyes and counts to five. 

“What hurts bud?” He can feel Ted kneeling next to him and he risks opening his eyes and is met with a flurry of overwhelming concern. 

“I’m fine.” Jamie spits, defense locking into place. He’s promptly ignored. 

“It is his right shoulder coach.” Sam says somewhere to his left. “I don’t think it's dislocated but he went down hard.”

Jamie groans. “How do you even fucking know that?” 

Sam had the audacity to shrug and smile at him, momentarily distracting him while Ted prods at his shoulder gently. Jamie lets out an involuntary hiss when he touches a sore spot and he knows that's his downfall in a nutshell.

“Alright boys, give him some space. Back to the drills.” Ted makes eye contact with Beard who starts to shuffle the rest of the team off. 

Collin argues that he’s really sorry and didn’t mean to, and Jamie tries to wave him off with his good hand but Sam catches it on his own before he can say anything. 

“I know you didn’t mean to Collin, he’s okay. Back to the drills, you can check on him and apologize later. For now we need to get some ice on it.” Ted is saying somewhere above him and Jamie just wants to groan and press his face into the grass. Which he now realizes is quite wet actually. 

“It's fine boyo.” Jamie says instead and suddenly he’s got Roy Kent and Sam all up in his face, helping him up. Hands holding on to his good arm and hip, hoisting him in the air so he’s legit air bound for a terrifying moment. Then he’s set back on the ground and instantly he leans on Sam for support, because oh. His shoulder is a bit sore actually. Isn't it. 

“Yeah you can let him grovel later.” Roy barks out, but it's all bark and no bite. Jamie thinks he might be going soft in his old age to be honest. “Obisanya is going to get you to the treatment room. We need to see if it's dislocated.” 

“It’s not dislocated.” Jamie says very determinedly. So assured of himself both Sam and Roy stop in their tracks and turn to him. Ted stops in front of him and his face does that thing where he thinks the man might cry. He can feel color rising to his cheeks, as he looks down at the wet, muddy grass.

“Had a dislocated shoulder before. This ain’t it.” He mumbles.

He doesn’t have to tell them how. He has no intentions. But he knows without looking at any of them they’re making some educated guesses. Everyones met his dad, haven’t they? 

Jamie feels a bit sick, a bit stupid and little as they don’t say anything. The silence is suffocating. 

“Well okay Baby Shark, but I’d like an expert to give you the all clear just in case.” Ted says, in that warm annoying tone of his. Jamie gives him a curt, quick nod, avoiding eye contact at the nickname. Jamie doesn’t know how he feels about it. Because it’s something that for whatever reason Ted has stuck to, but it doesn’t feel like a normal nickname. It’s said in what Jamie can only assume is a fond, parental tone. One that Jamie is wholly unequip to handle. Especially coming from Ted. 

Sam must feel him tense up, because suddenly the arm wrapped around him helping him walk squeezes his hip twice in a comforting manner and he keeps walking. Jamie spares a glance at Roy whose jaw is tighter than usual and his fist is clenched tightly by his hip. 

“Ice.” Is all he says in the gruff tone, directing them to the treatment room.

It’s annoyingly familiar, being sat on the bench with Roy looming over him again. This time with Sam by his side. He’s handed the ice and when he fumbles with it for a bit when Sam takes over, resting it over his shoulder gently. Jamie can’t even look at him properly. Just mumbles quietly, thanks. 

The room is awkwardly quiet and Jamie feels like he could pull out his hair. 

He sneaks a glance up and Sam is smiling at him fondly. “Thanks. But I am alright.” He says, like he needs to clarify this. Like he needs them to know he doesn’t actually need them looking out for him. 

Sam just smiles while Roy huffs annoyed. “You ever gonna tell me when your hurt or do I need fucking Obsinya to be a fucking guard dog?”

Jamie pouts up at him, but Sam is laughing quietly. “Not a fucking baby am I?” Jamie says a little bit outraged, but mostly put out. It's a new dynamic in their relationship, but it's not unheard of.

Roy isn’t as horrible as he’d like everyone to believe. The yelling and growling is almost just for show nowadays, everyone knows Roy Kent is a big grumpy teddy bear under all that scowling really. And they’ve found common ground over the years. Cracks in each other's exterior that have come down. Roy is someone in Jamies life that he’s trying to make proud, and he knows this. Ensures Jamie knows that he is. Ensures that someone is looking out for him. 

Roy has a soft spot for Jamie Tartt and everyone within a 100 mile radius knows it. 

Still doesn’t make it any less weird when he does take care of him though. Jame can name the number of people on one hand before he came back to Richmond who willingly took time out of their day to make sure he was okay. The number was small. 

“Then don’t act like it.” Roy says when the doctor walks in. The doctor pokes and prods and Jamie does his best to act tough but everyone can see through it. The doctor confirms it's just a sprain and if he looks after it can be back to normal activities in a week, but it still stings nonetheless. 

It stings a little less when both Dani and Sam come home with him after training, making sure he has everything he needs and playing FIFA with him late into the night. 

Jamies phone buzzes again and he reckons he’s about three seconds away from throwing it out of the damn bus window. 

Phone plan be damned. 

His leg jitters nervously up and down as he tries in vain to ignore the buzzing in his pocket, trying to focus as Sam and Dani jabber on about whatever it was they‘re talking about. Muffins maybe. Or baking bread. Sam’s been really into sourdough recently, it’s probably something like that. 

He should be listening, but instead his phone keeps fucking buzzing. Another message. Another missed call. It started about 10 minutes ago, and hasn’t bloody stopped. He tried turning it on silent, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. So he’d turned it back on. Like a masochist. 

The devil you know kind of shit. 

The atmosphere in the bus is a content haze. They tied the game in Man City, Jamie passing the tying goal to Dani at the last minute. They’d been on a high. It wasn't a win, but it wasn’t a loss. They’d been happy. Elated. Excited. Even Jamie; despite the city they played in. 

Despite the edge that was holding him back. He played well. He knew he played well. He played like a team player and an overall good player. Even without the signal. Everyone was happy with him. He was trying to be happy with himself. 

On top of that, he hadn’t heard from his old man in months. There was no reason to believe anything would happen today. Besides, Higgins had pulled him aside yesterday, ensuring that he wouldn’t be permitted anywhere near the locker rooms. Higgins had been forceful with an aura of protectiveness that hit him hard, made his throat close up a little. Higgins was once again proving that he had people who cared about him. Had thought of his well being outside the football pitch. 

It was a small victory and kind of embarrassing if he was being totally honest. Because despite the man's reassurance and confidence, it technically wasn’t worth much. If his Dad wanted to find him, well there were plenty of ways around being kept out of a locker room. 

But it hadn’t escaped his notice either, the way the team plastered themselves to his side the moment they got on the bus, until the moment they got home. Clearly conversations without him had been had. 

Jamie hasn’t had a moment alone. 

Dani curled up next to him the entire way there, talking about guacamole recipes he wanted to try over the weekend. Isaac and Collin flank him walking into the arena, chatting about FIFA scores and all nighters. Even Jan Maas and Richard standing by him as they get changed. A steady flow of nonsensical conversation intended to distract him. It had been pretty effective, for the most part. But Jamie had a sixth sense for Manchester, he was always on the edge, watching out. 

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one today, because he certainly hadn’t failed to notice that Sam had been standing around on edge all day too. Standing around, hovering over Jamie and Dani, constantly keeping an eye on the exits. Waiting for something. It made Jamie a bit nervous if anything, because he’s so used to a relaxed, happy Sam. But this one wasn’t angry, nor was he upset. He was simply alert, ready for anything. Jamie kept going to make a joke or a snappy comment about it, he didn’t need someone watching over him, but everytime he went to, Dani would distract him with talk about puppies or this new show he wanted to watch on Netflix. He doesn’t know if it was specifically coordinated to distract him or they were just scarily intune with one another. Either way it worked. 

On top of that, which Jamie is starting to think in hindsight was all a bit much really, he did not fail to notice Roy standing by each of the doorways with Beard, in each room they were in. Constantly standing guard. 

Talk about fucking guard dogs. 

Usually Jamie would have been on edge the whole game. Usually this kind of attention would piss him off. Make him snap at people. Make him grumpy that they were trying to handle him with kid gloves and run interference. Jamie is an adult and he has been living with his Dads consequences his whole life, he’s fine. 

Except it didn’t this time. It actually made him feel kind of safe.

Usually when he enters Manchester an eerie sense of dread washes over him, unwavering until his Dad inevitably finds him and fucks something up. But with the somewhat overbearing presence of everyone circling around him, it actually made him feel safe. 

Like if his Dad does come to touch him, he might not get through.

It's unnerving, putting so much trust into people. Specifically with something so delicate and volatile. He doesn’t want to put anyone in danger or make them uncomfortable. He wants them to be safe, away from his dad. He wants to keep his found little family as far away from his Dad as humanly possible. He wants to make sure they're safe. They don’t deserve to be tainted by him. 

The problem with that argument though, is that it's a two way street. He'd tried, with Dr Sharon. Who had been annoyingly neutral in her response of; so Jamie, why is it then okay to want to keep your teammates safe, away from your father, but it's not okay when they want to keep you safe, away from your father? 

Yeah cheers for that logic. Jamie felt about two feet tall hunched over in the chair shrugging like a moody teenager. 

Just different isn't it? It’s me, dad. 

But why?  

He'd wished she'd stopped pressing but that's her job he supposed. She’d kept asking questions until he finally admitted that he guessed it wasn't that different. He too had a right to feel safe. 

So he knows he can’t bring it up with anyone. He knows the rebuttal and that had been awkward enough with a therapist, he doesn't need Sam or Roy, or godforbid Ted telling him that his safety is just as important as anyone else's. 

God things were easier when nobody cared about him. 

So instead of arguing with everyone's overbearingness, he just let them do their thing. And well, it wasn’t terrible. It didn’t seem to actually impact anyone, and secretly a part of him was well chuffed knowing they’re being overbearing enough to actually give a shit. 

He’d gone the whole game, and managed to make it on the bus without hearing anything from his father. Tucked away in one of the seats, Sam next to him and Dani in front, chatting away about sourdough like that was a completely normal thing to do. He’d almost made it home free. 

It’s not until 30 minutes into the bus trip that his phone starts to buzz. 

And buzz. 

And buzz.

And not fucking stop. 

He’s sure Dani and Sam have clocked into what's going on now. At first they were probably happy to ignore it, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. Now his leg is twitching and he can feel himself getting worked up. The anxious energy doesn’t have anywhere to go and he’s sure he’s about to either snap or cry because at this point he’s just tired isn’t he. 

Both would be mortifying on such a small confined bus where everyone can see. It’s been humiliating enough that everyone knows about his Dad and spent the whole trip trying to protect him. 

He doesn’t need any added layers to this nightmare. 

“Jamie?” Sam's soft voice snaps him out of his trance. Sam is looking over at him, Dani perched up and looking over the seat with concern. 

“What?” Jamie doesn’t mean to snap but he does anyway. And instantly feels guilty. 

“Do you want to get that?” Sam asks gently, indicating to the phone. Jamie pulls it out of his pocket but holds it tightly in his hand, making sure its face is down and they can’t see who it is. Even if he knows, they know. He can pretend for a little while longer. 

“It’s nobody.” He mumbles, gripping the phone tightly. 

It stops buzzing and the silence is deafening, even though the noise on the bus is a constant flurry. He sits deadly still, like maybe his dad has stopped. He didn’t see him in Manchester, maybe he has given up. Figured Jamie must be a lost cause by now. He’s not as determined as he once was, nor as young. 

Maybe Jamie doesn’t have to worry about going home, worry that his Dad might be on the front porch waiting for him. 

When his phone starts vibrating again he flinches rather violently, and instantly flushes at his reaction that Dani and Sam have very clearly been witness to. From the corner of his eye he watches them silently communicate, and on another day he might be annoyed at them constantly talking about him. But today all he can think about is the damn phone and his Dad, and how stupidly scared he feels despite being tucked away on a bus surrounded by his favorite people who have done nothing all day except prove that he’s safe. 

“Jamie.” Sam holds out his hand and for a moment he just looks at it stupidly, unsure what's expected of him. Sam waits patiently, holding out his hand and looking at Jamies phone.

Oh. He wants him to hand it over. 

Jamie, for some reason, grips it tighter despite that. He can’t give it to Sam. Even if Sam doesn't want to talk to his Dad. This is his burden to carry. He can’t hand it over to anyone. Especially not someone like Sam. Sam who is good. Too good to be tainted by his Dad. 

“No. It’s fine.” It would be fine, had his phone not vibrated rather violently and his breath hitched on the last syllable. Now he was close to crying. Crying on the fucking team bus where everyone can see him. 

Because what, his daddy is a bit mean to him. Give him a break. He is such a child.

“Jamie.” Sam says again, a bit more forcefully this time. The Sam in front of him isn’t the timid, shy Sam he knows is in there somewhere. This is the forceful leader Sam. The take charge of a problem Sam. His best friend Sam.

Jamie spares a look at Dani, who is still watching on curiously, but with a hint of encouragement in his eyes. He hesitates for only a moment, but it's the distraction Sam was waiting for. Because suddenly Sam is leaning over, all up in his space and trying to snatch the phone out of his hand. 

The indignation is enough to snap Jamie back into reality and he leans further back, trying to keep his phone out of reach on pure principle alone. He doesnt have much place to go though because he’s trapped between a window and a fucking 6 foot footballer. 

“Oi!” Jamie shouts, probably enough to draw some attention, but he’s not just going to give up his phone like that is he? Even if it is for a good cause. 

“Just give me the phone Jamie, honestly.” Sam childs, tutting a bit annoyed and a bit exasperated. Like he knows best and Jamie refuses to listen. He sounds a bit like Roy actually. They’ve all been spending too much time together. 

It's like the tension has popped out of the air like a balloon. Sam physically trying to take his phone has burst his anxiety bubble, the feeling where he thought he would burst into tears is gone. Replaced by something he's not sure about. 

Safety he supposes. He knows he is safe here, next to Dani and Sam. Despite being manhandled. The tension is replaced by a playful aura, like Sam knew exactly how to get Jamie out of his own head even if he didn’t. Suddenly tussling like school children has made it easier for him to breathe, and he’s sure Roy would have a field day with that information. 

“Fuck off.” Jamie says, but there's no heat to his voice and Sam can tell. Which is probably why he risks his next move, Jamie holds his phone as far away from Sam as possible in the small space, and Sam retaliates by jabbing his fingers into Jamie's ribs. 

Jamie reacts instantly by curling into himself and letting out a strangled yelp. The fucking cheater. But it's the opening Sam needed. He jabs a few more times so that Jamie has to physically repress the giggles from escaping his mouth and tries to shield himself away from menacing fingers, while he feels Dani pluck the phone easily from his grip while preoccupied. 

With the phone safely gone, Sam rests a hand around Jamie's shoulder and pulls him in closely, ceasing his assault. Jamie doesn’t think much about it when he buries his head into the crook of the other man's arm, trying in vain to hide the flush reaching his cheeks and settling into the man's warmth, allowing Sam's soft hoodie to bring him some comfort. 

Despite just being attacked unceremoniously by the man, he cuddles into his side gracefully. 

“Fucking cheater.” Jamie mumbles but contradicts himself by not moving out of Sam's grasp. Relishing in the comfort the other is willing to offer. Sam just chuckles, soothing and soft, tightening his grip around Jamie's shoulders.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Roys looms over their seats, coming from the front of the bus where clearly he saw Sam manhandling him. Jamie's cheeks flush on instinct, not sure if everyone witnessed their little display. 

From the smirk Roy is sending them, he knows exactly what just transpired. 

Before he can comment, and inevitably embarrass Jamie to the moon and back, Dani silently hands Roy Jamies phone, and he doesn’t have the strength to argue. Just buries himself deeper into Sam. Pride be damned at this point. He’s let them take care of him so far, might as well continue. 

Roy looks between the three of them, seeing Jamie cuddled up under Sam's arm, and then at the phone that starts vibrating in his hand. Roy scowls down at it as the puzzle pieces click into place. 

He lets out one of those long deep growls where Jamie knows he’s really mad, but it's not at him.

“I’ll take care of this.” Roy holds the phone up and then points to Jamie. “You two take care of him.”

Jamie scoffs. “Oi!” But he thinks it's probably undermined when Sam pulls him in a little bit closer and tugs on his earlobe gently, the way he talked about his father doing. Jamie scrunches up his shoulders on instinct and hides a smile into the man's chest. Sam is relentless. 

Roy doesn’t smile at them, because he’s above things like smiling, but he does smirk. “You going home with them or me, pick your poison.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, but doesn’t complain. Honestly he’d rather not go home on his own right now, and he doesn’t have the emotional capacity to unpack that. 

With one last nod, like he needs to make sure the three of them are alright, the man storms to the front of the bus. Jamie watches as he sits down out of sight, but he hears a clear, “Fuck off.”

Jamie huffs as Sam's arm tightens around him again, and lets himself sink further into the man's chest. When fingers start to card through his hair he struggles to keep his eyes open. He tries not to care about the fact that his phone has essentially been taken off him like a child, or the fact that everyone seems ridiculously clued into the fact that his Dad is beyond a shitty person. Instead he lets himself be calmed by the rhythm of Sam's breathing, and Danis continual flow conversation of Taco Trucks down the east. 

Maybe letting people care about him isn’t all bad. 

Jamie would like it written down, for the record, that he has never actively lied to people about his emotional or physical health before. Sure, he has embellished at times. Maybe swayed the truth a little, mainly with the continual phrase of I’m fine; when perhaps he is not completely fine. 

But he has never been not fine enough to do the job. He could always push through, and that's the truth. Besides, it was ingrained in him at a very young age that he can and should always push through no matter what. To be the best, you have to be the best. The league doesn’t have time for softies or push overs. Unless you are literally dying, you get the job done. And more. 

Sure, he could rest and recover, and take some time to heal. But never once has he actually not been able to do whatever he needs to do, when he has uttered the words, I’m fine. 

He would really, really like that known for some official record. Because for some reason, nobody seems to bloody believe him. 

He can’t for the life of him understand why - and well, okay. Maybe he can. But he’s learning to unpack things with Dr Sharon slowly. Leave him alone. Let him live in his delusion world please. 

Maybe he’d been avoiding people all morning when he rocked up to the race track late. Not on purpose, just strategically on time. Because, maybe he developed a bit of a cough a few days ago and hasn’t been able to shake it. Maybe he feels clammy and weird, and his voice is an octave lower than it should be. 

Maybe he has a bit of a cold, but really who’s to say, you know?

He’s fine. 

And he means that.

Mostly. 

He is fine. 

Truly.

But he knows the moment one of the team, god forbid Sam or Dani, clock that he is not 100 percent okay, they are for sure going to tattle to Roy or Ted, and then he’ll be sent to the doctor. And then home. And fuck it’s just a cold alright? He feels fine. He is fine. He can push through one lousy training session. He knows he can. 

And he doesn’t need anyone tattling on him. He doesn’t need them assuming they know best for him. He knows his body. He’s fine to push through for a little while. 

He just has a cold. He can work through it for a little while and rest later. Really, he’s fine. There's nothing for anyone to worry about.

But Jamie knows by now, has done this dance enough times, to know they will worry. 

He’s clued in now. He knows how they work, this whole caring about him business. And sure, it warms his heart a little. It’s nice to know they care about him and all that shit. Great even. He loves that. He loves them, really. 

But fuck, they’re perceptive mother fuckers who won’t leave him alone at times. He is a grown adult man who despite popular belief can actually look after himself. He is fully capable of deciding whether or not he needs to take a sick day.

So he just needs to avoid them for a little bit longer. 

He’s the first to leave the locker room to go to the canteen, slipping out quickly before anyone can engage him in a conversation. He saw Dani and Sam discussing something urgently and did not miss the way Isaac was about to get up in his space with Colin close behind. God, if Sam and Dani were bad, Isaac is another level. He's taken the whole captain thing very seriously and ensuring everyone under his watch is okay. 

He coughed into his arm, a wet cough that leaves him a bit more breathless then he would like. He can get something quickly to eat and then hide out in the weight room before everyone gets there. Then he can lift weights quickly, listen to Ted titter on about something semi relevant to whatever they are doing and then go home. 

Nobody has to be any wiser, and he might be able to get out of this one with some dignity. Prove to everyone that he’s not a child. 

“Tartt!” 

Jamie doesn’t groan out loud, but he wants to. He considers just ignoring Roy and running to the canteen, because fuck Sam and Dani play fast and dirty don’t they. How did those idiots get to Roy so quickly? He just left the locker room. 

But then another voice actually gets him to freeze and stop in his tracks. Halting his movements, because fuck. 

“Jamie!”

Before he knows it he has an armful of middle schooler, hugging his waist tightly and he can’t not bend down and hug her back. He’s not a monster is he? 

“Pheebs! What are you doing here?” He asks, genuinely surprised as he runs a hand over her head as she smiles brightly up at him. She’s got her school bag and uniform on, and when he looks up he realizes that Ruth is standing there with Roy. Jamie has met Phoebe and Ruth loads of times now, especially after Uncle's Day where he was mighty chuffed he got a special invite. He’s pretty sure at this point Ruth lets Phoebe invite him to things because she thinks it's funny when Roy growls, but it’s become standard to spend time with all the Kents. Besides, Phoebe is properly funny and smart for a kid, and he honestly has no problem hanging out with her. He loves kids. Roy says it’s because he and Phoebe have a similar emotional intelligence range, but Jamie just ignores him. He knows Roy loves his niece to pieces and Jamies fairly certain he’s managed to worm his way under all that gruff as well. It’s nice. 

This does throw a weird spanner in his plan though. He still can’t tell if it’s an ambush or not. So he looks on warily, ready to bolt if he needs to. 

“Half day at school. Mums dropped me off with Uncle Roy so she can go to work. We’re going to have a sleepover!” She says excitedly as Roy just grunts, but looks on at her fondly enough.

“Mint.” He says, and when Roy isn’t looking him over suspiciously he thinks maybe he’s gotten away with everything so far. Jamie realizes that Roy has probably been preoccupied by Phoebe coming all morning, and Dani and Sam haven’t gotten to him yet. 

He’s still almost home free. Nothing has changed yet, he can still tactically avoid these people, and it will be easier with Phoebe around to distract everyone with her cuteness. 

He can go home and get some rest for this stupid cough to go away. It’s just a bloody cough anyway, it's winter so shits going around everywhere. It’s nothing to be worried about. He tells himself this adamantly despite being up half the night hacking up a lung. 

What he doesn’t account for, is the wide range of people who have decided to join in the cause of his well being. 

He does not factor in Ruth. 

The doctor Ruth. 

“Hey Jamie.” Ruth says warmly, going in for a hug. He likes Ruth's hugs, they're not as good as Roys but they have the same Kent vibe which he likes. Unfortunately, that's the moment his cough wants to act up, and he has to quickly pull away and cough into his sleeve so he doesn’t spread all his germs on her. He tries to keep it in as much as he can, play it off a bit. But he knows he’s only about half successful. 

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.” Ruth jokes. And look, she means it harmlessly enough. He knows that. 

There's no hidden agenda here or secret plan. He knows she’s just making conversation. She doesn’t have it in her to bully him into taking care of himself, Jamie is fairly certain she sees him as an adult. A proper adult footballer who can take care of himself. He’s pretty sure she only thinks of him like that because he’s been allowed to babysit Phoebe by himself, and the fact that he doesn’t think Roy has spoken much about him to her besides the obvious grunts and groans. He can’t see Roy making an effort to complain about how Jamie doesn’t look after himself to his sister. She has far more important things to worry about. 

Nonetheless, it is entirely the wrong thing to say in front of Roy. 

Jamie can see the moment it gets his attention, he stands up straighter. Like a dog whos just seen a fucking rabbit. 

Jamie is the prey and he needs to get out of here ASAP.

“All good, just a tickle in me throat.” Jamie dismisses, plastering on his best cheeky grin. The one he does for the cameras. He still doesn’t know how Roy is immune to it. “Anyway I was gonna go get lunch. Better go before breaks over.” 

“Tartt.” Roy shouts. That stern coach one he does that Jamie couldn’t disobey if he tried. And boy has he tried before. “How long have you had a fucking cough for? You sick?”

“That's a pound, Uncle Roy.” Phoebe says, but he promptly ignores her in favor of staring Jamie up and down. Jamie hates it when he does that. 

“Don’t have a cough.” Jamie replies, like a lying liar. Because another wave of coughing hits him, this one is more violent than the last. Trying to suppress it only makes it worse.

“Tartt.” Roy snaps taking a step forward when Jamie takes an instinctual one back. Suddenly he feels like he’s playing a game of cat and mouse, and Roy's frown somehow gets deeper. Does that thing with his eyebrows he does when he’s really annoyed. Running is always the dumb option, because while yes, he can technically outrun Roy due to his dud knee, he can’t outrun him in the long run. And Roy plays a long game Jamies got no patience for. Roy just manages to wait him out, get reinforcements when necessary. 

It’s humiliating. 

Jamie always feels like a naughty toddler getting dragged back to mum by the ear. Roy somehow has the ability to make him feel completely safe and at ease, but also reprimanded and a little bit stupid. Like he should be doing more to look after himself. 

Jamie supposes this is what having people care about you is like, but it's still a fairly new thing to him and a lot of the time he finds it annoying. It's like they think he can't make decisions for himself. 

Which, look, historically Jamie is aware that the decisions he makes from himself aren’t always the best. But give him a break, alright? 

He’s trying.

“I’m fine!” He insists despite everything and through a valiant bout of wheezing. He watches as the vein on Roy's forehead throbs in only a way Jamie can make it. It’s a gift isn’t it. 

Ruth looks between them with a signature Kent frown and knowing look, obviously putting something together. Probably recognising Jamie's inability to ask for help or admit any vulnerability. She is Roy's sister after all, and his big sister. And a Mum. And a doctor. She probably has some kind instinct for this sort of thing. She’s probably very used to pro athletes pretending they're fine, when they are not in fact fine. 

He wonders what she used to say to Roy when he said his knee was fine, as he hobbled down the stairs like a wounded baby bird after a match. 

Jamie mourns the last person in his inner circle who seemed to think he was an adult who could look after himself. It was nice while it lasted. 

What he doesn’t expect, but he probably should have been more prepared for, is for her to stride forward confidently and put the back of her hand on his forehead, closely inspecting his breathing. 

“That wheezing doesn’t sound good.” She states while Jamie all but gasps at her.

If this was anyone else he’d whack away their hand and tell them to buzz off. But he’s not going to do that to Roy's sister, is he? From the look on her face she knows it too and is taking full advantage of it. 

“How long have you had it? There's a lot going around right now Jamie.”

Jamie has to fight down his natural instinct to pout and stomp his foot like a child. “I’m fine.” He does complain though, and takes a full step away from her. Trying to create distance, a sense of barrier between them but he’s gone and blown it now. Now he has both Kents looking him over, assessing him, and ones a trained medical professional. 

And one just likes yelling at him. He’s doomed. 

“Answer the fucking question. Or are you really going to ignore my sister like that? How long have you been coughing Tartt?” Roy snaps and that's a bit harsh isn’t it. Not like he’s trying to be rude. 

They’re doing this on purpose. Jamie can’t prove it, but Ruth doesn’t look the least bit sorry for him. She wears the same smug look Roy does when he knows his won. 

God, Jamie thought he and Ruth were on the same, let's make fun of Roy, team. 

He didn’t think she’d help gang up on him. 

Jamie stuffs his hands into his shirt, balling it up subconsciously and shrugs. “Few days. I donno.” 

Lies. He’s had the cough for a week and no amount of cough medicine or cold and flu tablets seem to be fucking helping. 

Roy doesn’t immediately yell at him, which is weird in itself, instead turns to Ruth who is still watching his breathing with an intensity that makes him nervous. 

“Maybe get a chest x-ray, just in case. Pneumonia has been going round and you’d want to get on top of that quickly.” She turns to Roy, discussing him like he’s not even there. Like he’s Phoebe or something. 

“What?” Jamie demands. “I don’t have that!” It’s just a cough for christ sake. When did everyone get so worried all the time? 

“Nope. Doctors orders. Chest X-ray Tartt.” Roy demands and is leaning forward, grasping Jamie's bicep, pulling him closer. Jamie stumbles at being yanked so unceremoniously, but Roy helps right him well enough. 

“I’m fine.” Jamie whines again, letting himself stumble into Roy, and maybe he doesn’t move away instantly. Maybe he leans into the solid chest a bit, allows himself a moment of comfort because Roy is warm and strong and can hold his weight up for a bit. Easy to lean on. Maybe he’d carry him if he asked. 

“If you’re not well Jamie you should let Mummy and Uncle Roy take care of you. Mummý’s a doctor, one of the best!” Phoebe pipes up and Jamie has to do his best not to roll his eyes and strop at the 9 year old. 

“I’m sure your Mummy is the best Pheebs. But I’m fine, really.” He adds, stepping away from Roy to try and get back some control of the situation. No matter how much his composure is diminishing, he has to try. 

“Well Howdy Kents, what do we owe the pleasure?” A chipper Kansas accent runs down the hallway and Jamie's blood runs cold as all illusions of control he had start to evaporate, especially when Ted zeros in on him. That determinedly friendly yet intense gaze in his eyes he gets when he’s found his target. “And Baby Shark, just who I was looking for!”

Jamie hunches a little. It’s never a good sign when Teds looking for him and the nickname always throws him for a loop. “Me?” He asks stupidly. 

Ted just smiles, all proper friendly like. “Yes sir. Dani and Sam mentioned something I’d like to have a chat about.” 

Fucking traitors, Jamie thinks and Roy snorts next to him. “Bout that stupid cough, yeah? Dumb and dumber tattling on him? Ruth already thinks he needs a chest x-ray.”

Teds eyebrows go up at that, looking at Ruth questinly and she nods. “Just to be sure, it doesn’t sound great. You’ll want to rule out a few things just in case. I’m heading to the hospital now, we can get them done quickly.” She’s explaining to Ted, who is nodding along intensely. 

“An x-ray? Well if you think so Doc, better be safe than sorry.” Ted nods and Jamie looks at these people like they're insane. 

“Do I get a say about this?” Jamie asks rather annoyed at being talked about like he’s not even here. Feels like a small, stupid child. 

“No.” Roy says and he doesn’t sound remotely angry or sorry about it. Just a simple, no. 

Jamie pouts. He looks between the three adults who have seemingly decided what's best for him without his permission. He could yell, scream, and snap at them. Tell them all to go to hell and he can take care of himself. The old Jamie probably would have. And more. Fuck, if his Dad could see him now. He’d have a field day. Probably knock him around for good measure, ensure he knows where he came from and why. 

The intrusive train of thought is easy to take over, so Jamie shakes his head and tries to snap out of it quickly. Just like Dr Sharon taught him. It won’t help letting that little voice that sounds mean and tired like his Dad get the better of him. He can’t let it win. He knows he’s not like that and deep, deep down he knows these people, everyone at Richmond really, just wants to make sure he’s okay. 

It’s still such a foreign concept, but Jamie is truly trying not to be a bitch about it. 

“Fine.” He shoves his hands into his shirt, stretching it out. “But I want ice cream afterwards.”

If he can’t be a bitch about it, he can be a child about it though. 

This makes Ted laugh loudly and Phoebe pipes up that she should definitely be allowed ice cream as well in support of Jamie. 

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” 

The x rays only take a couple of hours, but Jamie does not get ice cream afterwards. Because he has a fucking pneumonia. And ice cream is not good at all for people with fluid in their lungs apparently. 

Jamie sits in the passenger seat of Roys G-Wagon, bundled up in one of the mans oversized hoodie because he was reprimanded for not brining another jumper - when he’s got a fucking pneumonia - Phoebe in the backseat happily chatting away about facts she’s googling about pneumonia on her iPad, while Roy not so quietly seethes next to him. Glancing sideways every other minute to either glare at him or look at him like he might need to be driven straight back to the ED for an IV. 

Look, it's not Jamie's fault. He didn’t know he had a bloody pneumonia. How on earth did he even get it? It was just a cough! But upon inspecting the chest x-rays Ruth had been pretty clear this was serious and he would need proper rest and recovery, or he would end up in the hospital to be monitored. This was serious. 

Jamie felt properly chastised as Ruth outlayed what he needed to do in order to get better, being both part medical professional and part mother, while Roy looked on with a mixture of disbelief and I told you so. Like he couldn’t quite fathom which one to be. He looked like he wanted to thump Jamie on the head for being so daft and wrap him up in cotton wool to look after him. 

It’s a weird feeling, but one Jamie is getting used to from Roy.

“A pneumonia!”  Roy growls again, clearly unimpressed. Jamie buries further into the warmth of the hoodie that smells like Roy. “How did you possibly get pneumonia?” 

Jamie shrugs childishly. “I donno. Stop yelling at me.”  He’s tired now. He’s sick of being picked on and just wants to go to bed. Hopefully Roy will just drop him home and ge can order a stack load of groceries and junk food over uber. He can hole up for a few days and rest in his own misery. 

“Do I actually need to put you in a fucking bubble or something? This is getting ridiculous. Wait until Sam finds out. He’s going to have an aneurysm.” Roy still sounds mad, but he's actively not yelling which is a win.

“That's a pound, Uncle Roy.”  Phoebe pipes up from the back.

“Put it on my tab.” Roy grunts. Clearly unimpressed. “No put in on Jamies tab.”  He decides and whatever, that does seem fair. He supposes he’s put them under a bit of emotional stress today. Jamie coughs pathetically into his arm.

Roys pulls up in front of Jamie's house, and stops the car. Jamie smiles at him, and shoves his hands into the pocket of the hoodie. He really doesn’t want to ruin it, it’s not his to ruin, but he also really doesn’t want to give it up. It’s soft and warm. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything Roy won’t ask for it back.

“Thanks mate. Really appreciate it.” Jamie says. He tries to keep his coughing to a minimum. Shouldn’t cough all over people who have been helpful.

Roy frowns at him but it's one Jamie can’t decipher. He turns back to Phoebe in the car. “Phoebe, give us 15 minutes and we’ll be back.” 

Roy is already opening his car door and getting out before Jamie can question it. So he follows him round the car.

“Ah what?”  Jamie asks, completely baffled as to why Roy has even gotten out of the car and not dropped him home, let alone why he’s telling his niece they’ll be 15 minutes. 

Roy gives him a look he usually reserves when he thinks Jamie is being a daft twit. “Go get your things.” Is all he says, which is completely the opposite of helpful.

“Ah, what?”  Jamie repeats.

Now instead of the daft twit look, he looks angry. “Go get a bag of your shit. Hoodies and shit. Toothbrush. Things for a few days Tartt. Shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes, you can’t have that much stuff.” 

Jamie is still standing there, staring at his coach. He doesn’t ask what again, because if he thinks if he does Roy might actually yell. Instead he stays silent.

Roy can’t actually mean what he thinks he means? 

Roy runs a hand down his face tiredly, like it pains him to say the next words. “I’m not leaving you here alone to drown in your own fluids you muppet. You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted. Get your shit and then you’ll stay in my guest room until Ruth gives you the all clear.” The fact that he’s not yelling is a miracle, because Jamie can tell he really, really wants to.

“Coach.” Is all Jamie says tiredly. Tired because he’s just tired in general. But he can’t put the man out like that. Can’t be a bother to someone so adamantly. “I don’t want to be no bother.” 

He really can look after himself. 

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you as your coach. It’s my job to make sure you don’t die.”  Roy says like he knew Jamie would argue and he had every rebuttal under the sun already memorized. He chose to use the one Jamie could argue with the least. “Now get out of the damn cold Tartt.” 

Jamie considers his options. Considers arguing, but Roys right. He’s too tired to argue and standing in the cold is making it worse. 

“If you wanna play nursemaid that's on you. Just know I’m a shit patient.”  Jamie tries for cheeky, tries to make light of the situation but the grunt Roy omits is less than impressed.

“Don’t I fucking know it you muppet.” 

The first thing Jamie thought when he met Sam's father, was holy shit that man was big . He was built like a truck. 

His second thought was, man, that guy could probably throw a punch.

Instantly he'd curbed that thinking quickly. Sam's Dad wasn't his Dad. Sam's Dad probably didn't punch things, or people. Or his son. 

Then he watches as Sam crashes into the man, throwing himself into his arms like he’s probably done a thousand times before. He doesn’t think about it, just throws himself into a mammoth of a man who catches him without question. And holds on so tightly it looks like it might even hurt, but in the good way. 

Painfully, his next thought is that he looks like he gives good hugs. 

It's a weird train of thought either way you look at it. Emotions everywhere, but Jamie looks away as Sam cries into his father's arms. Trying to be polite. He's hardly one to critique a breakdown In the locker room of all things. 

Jamie doesn't speak to Ola when he's here. He meets him quickly at the restaurant when they're cleaning it up, but Sam's busy and preoccupied. He doesn't need Jamie and his complicated thoughts hanging around, and he has no idea what to say to the older man even if he was asked. So he does his bit, keeps the mood light, helps where he's useful. Ignores his own complicated emotions regarding fathers as he watches Sam and his own cook in the kitchen. It's nice. Truly. 

Jamie can ignore the sting. He’s been practicing his whole life. 

It's not until the next time Ola comes to Richmond that Jamie has to actually deal with anything. 

God Jamie hates dealing with his emotions. 

Sam and Jamie, and Dani, are even closer than they once were. Ted calls them the three amigos, and Roy calls them dumb, dumber and dumbest, but he says it that fond way he does. Still yelling, but Jamie has learnt to tell his yells apart. The three of them had naturally fallen together in an odd little trio and Jamie has never had best friends before. It feels very high school, but he also really likes it. They eat together every other night, carpool and stay over at each other's places. They make fun of Roy quietly together, even if nobody has the balls to tease Roy like he does and they gently rag on Isaac and Colin when appropriate. Jan Maas makes a comment about codependency that has Jamie a little uncomfortable, a little insecure, but Dani throws his arms around the two boys, bringing them in closely and kissing each of their checks, claiming he is just jealous of their friendship. 

Dani is so unphased by things Jamie loves it. It grounds him. 

Surprisingly, Jan Maas doesn't say anything in retort. Usually he is blunt to the point of offensiveness, so Jamie has a weird feeling that he might actually be a bit jealous. Which is a weird pill to swallow. 

Anyway, the point is Jamie and Sam are somehow even closer this time Ola comes over, and Sam isn't dealing with the personal crisis of his restraint being vandalized. So this time naturally, Sam corners him in the locker room and spins Jamie's carefully crafted world upside down. 

Jamie was being careful to be specifically neutral regarding Sam's father. He doesn’t want to overstep or say anything weird. Sometimes he makes jokes about his dad, some self deprecating comment and the boys never laugh like he thinks they will. They just look sad and sorry for him, when objectively its just a fucking joke. Sam will give him those bloody eyes and Dani will wrap around his shoulders and won’t let go. Jamie tries to shake him off but he refuses to. Just stays plastered to him for the rest of training, making Ted laugh all confused like, and Roy simply scoffs at them. 

So Jamie has been careful with what he says around Sam, knowing the impending visit of Ola. He doesn’t want to make it weird. 

“My father is coming for dinner tonight.” Sam tells him. Jamie nods as he laces up his Nike's, he'd mentioned this earlier.  Jamie is aware. Happy for Sam even. Keeping all weird comments to himself for another day. 

Ignoring the weird flip his tummy does when he thinks of the man. It’s not like Jamie doesn’t know about other people's dad. He’s very acutely conscious of them actually. It’s just that he has two strong emotions when it comes to them. Jealously, which is a hard one to curb and control, but he’s working on it. Or fear. Fear not only for himself, but for whoever is there. Which is stupid, because Sam’s Dad is lovely. Same isn’t fearful of him, which means Jamie doesn’t need to be either. 

Dr Sharon says his instinctual emotions are completely normal but can’t be changed overnight. So when they come up he has to remember to allow himself to feel them, but try to rationalize it. This is getting easier, but still. It’s hard. 

He’s never mentioned this to either Sam or Dani, but he’s pretty sure Sam understands at least to an extent. He always seems to just understand Jamie, now that Jamie is allowing himself to be understood. 

“Mint.” Jamie says,

“You'll be over at 6pm?” Sam takes him off guard. 

“What?” Jamie stumbles with his laces. They have an unofficial standing dinner on Tuesday nights where they eat their bland meal plans and watch Lust Conquer All. He can't remember when it started. Dani joins when he's free but often it's just Sam and him. It's nice and comfortable, and Jamie would never say his favorite time of the week, but it might be. 

When Sam said his Dad was coming down, sure Jamie had been a little disappointed, but of course he'd want to spend time with him. No big deal. There's always next Tuesday. 

“Dinner, at 6pm.” Sam says slowly like he's talking to a small child. 

“Nah mate.” Jamie says with a false bravado. “Your dads coming inn’t he. Won't intrude on that or nothing.” 

He goes for his usual nonchalant bravado he doesn’t necessarily feel. When Sam frowns at him he knows he can probably see through it immediately. He has to curb his natural instinct to pout. 

“We always have dinner on Tuesday.” Sam says, like it's completely normal. “Besides, he wants to meet you.”

“I’ve met your Dad Sam.” Jamie rolls his eyes. The best thing to do is stay as casual as possible. He starts stuffing stuff into his bag so he doesn’t have to look at the eyes Sam is giving him. He knows it will be a little bit of pity mixed with disappointment and a hint of exasperation, that somehow Sam has perfected over the years of knowing him. 

“Yes.” Sam gives him the look. “But he wants to spend time with you.” 

Jamie sighs loudly when he realizes Sam isn’t going to drop it. He stands tall and looks Sam in the eyes, who is inspecting him closely.  He could brush it off, but he is trying to be a better person. And he loves Sam, he knows whatever he says to Sam, he will understand. He won’t make Jamie feel stupid or shitty for it, Sam is one of the kindest people he knows. He’s trying to be more honest with himself, and his friends. 

“Look Sam. Your dad seemed great. But I don’t know if it's a good idea.”

He’s being purposely vague. It's not a good idea for lots of reasons and he doesn’t want to specify any of them. Jamie used to be a prick to Sam. He’s probably told his Dad all about it. Jamie used to be a prick in general. He still is sometimes. Added, all of Jamie’s weird feelings about Dad’s, he’d just rather not go into it. 

From the look Sam sends him, he seems to understand all that. And probably more than Jamie even realizes. 

Sam places his hand gently on Jamie's shoulder and smiles warmly at him. This is why Jamie loves Sam. Sam is a good person. Sam gets it. Gets him even. 

“I do understand Jamie. But you are coming to dinner. I insist.” 

Jamie takes it back. Sam is a dick. 

Jamie doesn’t have time to argue before Sam has already been commended by Collin and Isaac about the new Fifa game. He’s completely ignored and shut down with a very stern look every time he tries to bring it up, and eventually he just stops. 

This is how Jamie finds himself at 5:58pm standing outside Sam's door, still contemplating whether he should just go home and bail. He’d thought about it constantly. Was just about to text Sam and say he wasn’t coming when Sam had sent him a text first 

You better be at dinner Jamie or we will be coming to yours. 

Sam Obyinsa is one of the nicest, kindest, genuine people Jamie has ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

But he is also a massive, manipulative dick who does not take no for an answer. Sam is far more determined than anyone gives him credit for. 

Jamie has no doubts that if he didn’t turn up to dinner they would come to him. And that would be weird. 

“Jamie!” Sam opens the door when Jamie finally knocks and he smiles weakly.

“Hey mate.” They hug because Sam is a hugger through and through, and Jamie is non admittedly touched, starved and loves it. 

When Sam pulls back he keeps his hands on Jamies shoulders and smiles. “You do not need to be nervous my friend. My father loves you already.”

Jamie swallows because he didn’t realize he was this visibly nervous. So he shuffles through and awkwardly chuckles, hoping the tips of his ears aren’t too pink. 

Sam shuffles him inside, and Ola is sitting there at the kitchen table. He’s larger than Jamie remembers, wearing another traditional outfit in blue, and he has a glass of water in front of him. Jamie wonders idly if the man drinks usually, or if Sam has purposely chosen not to drink tonight, knowing Jamie is a bit weird with alcohol and older men. It’s something Sam would notice. 

Jamie tries to remember to stand tall and confident, but his hands find their way into his shirt anyway, twisting the fabric nervously. 

“Jamie Tartt!” Ola greets, a hint of warmth and kindness. He doesn’t stand up, and Jamie doesn’t fail to notice how Sam stands right behind him, hands still on Jamies shoulders and digging in comfortingly as he shuffled him into the room. 

“Hi.” Jamie says awkwardly, nodding and just, standing there. Not sure what to do.

“Father, this is the famous Jamie Tartt. Jamie, this is my father. I know you have met before, but this feels more official.” Sam’s kind tone rings through Jamie's ears and he just nods again. He probably looks a bit stupid standing there, like a deer stuck in headlights. He doesn’t know why this is so much for him, he’s met people who are probably Dads loads of times and it’s meant nothing. 

This is Sam’s Dad though. Someone who has proven he is objectively kind. Someone who Jamie would really like to like him back, he realizes. 

Wanting people to like him isn’t new, it’s something he’s always felt but managed to squash down when he was a prick. It’s far easier to hide behind a false bravado and pretend other people's opinions don’t affect you then admit all you want is to be wanted. It’s especially a tough pill to swallow when one half of the man who is supposed to objectively want you know matter what, turns out to be a massive fucking douche bag and would rather use you as a punching bag. 

If Jamie couldn’t make his own Dad like him, no matter how hard he tried, how’s he supposed to get other people to?

“Of course, Jamie. I have heard so much about you. I am so glad my son has made a friend like you here.” Ola says kindly and he stands, towering over Jamie with his bulk of a body. Jamie stands perfectly still, he doesn’t flinch or anything which he’s proud of, but it might be the way Sam still has his hands pressed firmly into his shoulders. A grounding presence. 

“Yeah, sure.” Jamie chuckles nervously. 

“Jamie, my Dad is a hugger I’m afraid.” Is all Sam says good naturedly before he is gently nudged forward. Jamie stumbles over his feet for a moment, surprised at being essentially pushed and unsure what's happening, before insanely large arms catch him and pull him in close. Jamie doesn’t flinch, because everyone is moving far too slow to even startle his most ingrained natural reaction, but he does sort of freeze up awkwardly when Ola hugs him. 

It takes a moment, one where they all stand around silently, but Ola doesn’t give up. He doesn’t make a comment about Jamie’s inability to move or make him feel weird. The man just holds on to him gently until Jamie allows himself to relax into the embrace.

And yep, the man does give very, very good hugs. 

Jamie takes a moment to enjoy it. The feel of being held so delicate, yet so tightly in an embrace that screams nothing but warmth and safety. He can feel his eyes start to tear up for a reason he’s not even sure and he has to blink back tears before he starts sobbing like a child everywhere. He goes to pull away, but Ola holds him in closely, not letting him move away yet. Like he can sense Jamie might be upset.

Someone keeping him in a hug he tried to move away from in any other scenario might trigger his fight or flight response, but the way Ola holds him so carefully is different. It’s like Jamie's body knows he is safe here. 

“Ah, thanks?” Jamie says into the man's massive chest for lack of anything better to say. Although he can’t deny this is potentially the best hug he’s ever had, he feels a bit stupid being trapped here. He feels so small in Olas embrace, like a child. Probably how Sam feels every time he hugs his Dad. But he can feel the vibrations chuckle through the man's chest. 

“You are most welcome Jamie Tartt. I am a hugger, and Sam tells me you are in need of a good hug.” Ola says kindly.

This does snap Jamie out of it and when he pulls away this time Ola allows it and he snaps at Sam. “What?” 

He can’t help his ears from tinting pink though. 

Sam shrugs, like he doesn’t have a regret in the world. “You deserve a good hug.” Is all he supplies, moving around Jamie to the kitchen where it looks like he’s preparing a feast. Leaving Jamie standing there like an idiot with Ola who looks far more knowing then he’s prepared for. 

Jamie knows Sam tells his Dad everything. And it suddenly dawns on Jamie that Ola probably knows a lot about him. Way more than he is comfortable with. All the jaggared and hard to love pieces of him.

Idly, he wonders what Ola thinks of a man like his father. Dr Sharon suggested it might be helpful to try and think like other people sometimes. For example, if it was Sam's Dad coming into the locker room and doing that, how would he feel towards Sam? He wouldn’t think he was weak or stupid, so why would Sam think the same?

Someone like Ola, probably wouldn’t like a man who came in and talked to his son like that. 

Jamie peeks a look up at Ola who is still looking at him with kind eyes and Jamie deflates a little. Being prickly is his natural defense, but he doubts either of them will buy the attitude, simply skirt around it with kindness until he caves. He might as well drop it anyway. Especially if Sam has already gone and tattled about him to his Dad. Nowhere left to hide already. 

“Ah, thanks.” Jamie says again, this time to Ola who is still looking at him kindly. Ola takes that as an invitation apparently, to drape an arm around Jamie's shoulder and bring him in again. He directs him so they’re both sitting at the dining table, Jamie tucked under the large man's arm while Sam carries on cooking. 

“I can not wait to know everything about Sam's best friend. I want to know everything.” Ola says and Jamie can’t remember an adult in his life that has paid him this much attention outside of football. Nobody cares about him unless it’s about football. “Do you go by Jamie or James?” 

The question kind of shocks him, because he hates James. Before he can reply though Sam is grinning evilly. “Coach calls him Baby Shark.”

Ola is laughing loudly and shaking his shoulder gleefully. “Baby Shark. I love it. Just like the chant.”

Jamie knows the tips of his ears go red this time, he can feel the flush down his cheeks. “I don’t.” He mumbles. 

“You do.” Sam retorts, completely outing him. 

He doesn’t love it by any means, but he supposes he doesn’t hate it. He has weird feelings about it. Is all. 

“Shut up Sam.” Jamie rolls his eyes. “Surely you’ve got loads of embarrassing stories about Sam as a kid yeah?” 

Ola’s eyes light up at that and he chuckles, Jamie can hear Sam groaning from the kitchen. “Son, we are going to be very good friends.”

Jamie allows himself to bask in the comfort of Sam’s home, and relishes in the fact that Sam would share his Dad with someone like him.