Archive of Our Own

Roy wakes up with knots in his stomach the day that Jamie is scheduled for surgery. Though sleep is a loose term, he was jerking awake every hour or so all night. Awoken from a haze somewhere between sleep and awake with fears and dreams of something, anything going wrong. Roy doesn’t think it’s normal to be this worried for someone else, maybe he should see a doctor or something. 

Jamie planned it for two days after the end of the season, enough time to be alcohol-free for a while and then leaving the most amount of time to recover before the start of the next season. There were no more discussions about it now, and Roy had given up trying to convince him to not do it at all. He’s resolute and stuck on the idea, and so deeply messed up about it all. Roy just wants to be there for him now, as much as Jamie will allow him and Jamie has been gracious enough to allow him more than Roy thought he would get. 

Roy opens up his phone and he sees the Richmond group chat chain full of the boys getting fucked up and already on planes to somewhere warmer and somewhere with a lot of alcohol and food that hasn’t been on their diet plans for months. He thinks about Jamie, in his own home, packing a bag full of things he needs for the week-long stay in hospital. Wondering whether this is the right thing to do. 

Because that’s the thing, Jamie has gone back and forth, wondering desperately to the universe what he should do, what is the right choice. The last two weeks have been a test of patience and reserve on Roy's part. Listening to Jamie lament and cry and yell about it all, the whole spectrum of human emotion that Roy genuinely wasn’t sure a year ago that Jamie was capable of. One moment being so deeply angry towards his dad, angry at everything he has done and everything he hasn’t. And then the next, being softly resigned to completing this chapter and closing it. Doing the ‘good thing’ and moving on. And no amount of convincing from Roy can change Jamie’s mind that the ‘good thing’ doesn’t have to be major surgery that poses a risk to Jamie’s livelihood and life. 

But Jamie has settled on it being the right call, and Roy still doesn’t want it to happen. He’s accepted the fact that he’ll never be okay with it, but he’s trying to be good for Jamie. Trying to be okay enough for him. Trying to take himself out of the equation entirely and just be there as support. It’s not about him. 

Roy has at least convinced Jamie to make a legal agreement with his father. This was the only thing that didn’t take much convincing actually. When Roy suggested that he could actually put the requests in writing, that he didn’t want to see him anymore, that he didn’t want to loan him any more money, that he couldn’t come to Jamie’s house anymore, that he couldn’t call him. That if there was ever to be any more contact, that it would be Jamie’s decision, and Jamie’s decision only. 

All it took was one call from Jamie’s lawyer to James Tartt, and the promise of another chance at life by way of Jamie’s liver was too much of a pull. So he signed the contract. It took less than 24 hours for the entire thing to be sorted. It was then that Jamie seemed to feel at least a little more settled by it. That it was actually what he wanted, to be able to do a good deed and then leave his dad behind. Make way for himself, and a life that he wanted to live, not just a life in spite of his past. 

Though Roy saw the pain that the whole thing was causing him. That there was never really a right decision. That it’s always going to hurt. And it’s learning to live with that hurt that’s the next step. But Jamie isn’t there yet, he still has to get through this next part, one day at a time. 

So, Roy pulls himself out of bed, glancing at his phone. 8:04am. Jamie needs to be at the hospital at 10, the surgery scheduled for later in the evening. Roy pulls on some clothes, makes himself a cup of tea, and sits staring at his mug in a way that he feels like it should explode because of the intensity of his gaze. Eventually, he grabs his keys and makes his way to Jamie’s house. 

It’s only 20 minutes later that Roy is knocking on Jamie’s front door, and only seconds after that the door swings open. Jamie’s face looks drawn as he beckons Roy inside without a word. The door shuts behind Roy, the sound of traffic gone and it is all of a sudden quite quiet. 

Roy looks at Jamie who is walking towards his kitchen table, zipping up his Richmond training bag.

“Your Richmond bag? Really, Jamie?” Roy asks. 

He sees Jamie’s lips pull at a small smile, and he says as he stuffs something into a side pocket, “It’s a decent size.” 

Roy grunts in affirmation, and Jamie finally looks up at him and his eyes are sad and scared and Roy just wants to hold him. So he does. He takes the couple of steps towards him and lets Jamie sink into his chest, exhaling shakily. 

“I’m a bit fucking scared,” Jamie says, small and quiet. 

Roy wants to say, ‘ me too ’. But instead he says, “It’ll all be okay, promise.” 

And Roy just holds him for a full minute, which is a long time to be held, he’s discovered. They haven’t done anything else since they kissed at Nelson Road two weeks ago. Much to Jamie’s dismay and Roy’s displeasure. But there seems to be an unspoken agreement that they’re going to take whatever this is slowly. Perhaps a little too slowly. But it all feels so tentative and fragile, and the date of the surgery has been looming over them like a bad fucking nightmare that everything has felt a little out of reach. But it’s there, just beyond fingertips, at the edge of being held like this. 

Roy pulls himself back from Jamie, just quickly touching a palm to the side of Jamie’s face, and then letting go. 

“It will be,” Roy reiterates, and Jamie nods tightly, not looking so sure, “You got everything?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Jamie says, taking the bag and swinging it over his shoulder. 

“I can come back and get things for you if you need anyway,” Roy says, reaching for the bag. 

Jamie ducks out of the way of Roy’s hand and laughs a little, “Haven’t had the surgery yet, I can carry me own bag.” 

Roy rolls his eyes, and reaches out and grabs the bag anyway, “I’m just trying to be fucking nice, you little prick.” 

Jamie smirks as Roy says it, and then says, “So chivalrous, I would never have known.” 

“God, you’re fucking unbearable Tartt,” Roy says turning back towards the door, but he smiles despite himself. 

Jamie follows him out and locks the front door behind them, and they pile into Roy’s car. 

***

They arrive at the hospital and Roy sees Jamie’s hands shaking as he pushes open the door to the Admissions Office, he wants to hold them and to take Jamie home. But instead he follows close behind, trailing after Jamie as he talks to the woman at the front desk. 

The next couple of hours are a rush of people and being moved from room to room to room. If anyone recognises them, which Roy is sure at least some of them do, then they don’t let on and he’s grateful for it. Jamie is asked a thousand questions, and his skin is prodded and poked and blood is drawn. He is polite and quietly withdrawn through the entire process, and Roy stays with him when he can but he is oftentimes left in a waiting room, knee jumping up and down, trying to settle the gentle fire of anxiety licking at his insides. 

Roy is also well aware that Jamie’s father is somewhere in another room within the belly of this hospital, in the same fucking building, and it’s taking everything within him from finding his room and ending it right here and now. But he figures murder is perhaps not the answer. Might overcomplicate things just a touch. 

So instead he sits and waits, not having seen Jamie for the past 45 minutes. Then he is retrieved from a waiting room and led to Jamie’s room. He rounds the corner into it, after being let in by a nurse, and immediately meets Jamie’s eyes. And they’re blue and grey and unfaltering in their gaze. He’s already in a stark white hospital gown, tucked up to his waist under a sad blue blanket. There’s a few IV bags and machines around the bed, but he’s hooked up to none of them yet. 

“Do I look good?” Jamie says, breaking the silence. 

Roy smirks at that, breathing out a laugh, “The white makes you look tan.” 

Jamie smiles at that as well, “Small miracles, eh?” 

Roy just nods, smiling a little. He walks towards the bed and takes a seat in the large cushioned chair right next to Jamie. 

“They said they’ll take me to surgery prep soon,” Jamie says quietly. 

Roy keeps nodding, not wanting to say the wrong thing, not sure what to say at all. 

“Are you allowed to stay?” Jamie asks, and he sounds young and nervous and wanting. 

Roy looks up at him and repeats what he had heard from a nurse earlier, “Yeah, if you get out of surgery before visiting hours are over then I’ll see you then, if not, I can come back in the morning.” 

Jamie sighs gently, leaning his head back against the pillows, he turns his head to face Roy and then reaches out his hand on the bed, upturning it, palm up and open. 

Roy glances at it, at Jamie, then back at his hand, and he takes it. Because that’s what Jamie is asking of him, and fuck if he thinks he can refuse him. Their fingers intertwine, and Roy moves his thumb back and forth slowly over the back of Jamie's hand. The skin is rough and soft all at once, in the way that Roy likes it. He leans towards Jamie cautiously, slowly closing the distance. Jamie smiles gently, and lifts his head up from the pillow, closing the rest of it. Their lips come close, just ever so gently, slowing right before they touch, just dancing around each other. Then Roy just lets them brush up against each other, and they are soft , so soft. Jamie sighs into Roy’s mouth, untangling their hands and brings his palm to hold Roy’s cheek, finally pressing their lips together. They move slowly and deeply together, only barely opening their mouths to each other, tongues only merely touching. It feels like seconds and hours all at once. 

They move apart eventually, Jamie dragging his hand down the hollow of Roy’s throat as he says, “Thought we were never going to do that again.” 

“What gave you that fucking idea?” Roy asks between small kisses he is peppering the edge of Jamie’s jaw with. 

“The fact you’ve barely fucking touched me in two weeks,” Jamie says bluntly. 

Roy tips his head and smiles a little, “It’s been a bit of a fucking tough spot recently, I dunno if you’ve noticed.” 

“And what, you’ve been protecting me honour or summat?” Jamie asks incredulously. 

“Something like that, yeah,” Roy says, pulling back a little and taking Jamie’s hand again, “didn’t want to fuck you up.” 

Jamie just shakes his head, “You wouldn’t have.” 

“You never know, just wanted to do the right thing by you,” Roy says, earnest and sincere, he thinks to himself that he’s getting better at that. 

“But you want to, right? You want to touch me?” Jamie says, with a smile and some false bravado, but Roy sees the vulnerability. 

“You’re really going to make me say it? Like, out loud?” Roy asks. 

Jamie nods, smiling a little more fully, “I’m about to go into surgery, you have to do as I ask.” 

Roy's heart tugs a little, but he says, “Right, well, yes Jamie, I do in fact, want to touch you.” 

Jamie groans a little, “Well, it’s a bit fucking late now, I’m going to be in recovery for ages.” 

Roy leans back in his chair, playing with Jamie’s fingers a little, dragging his own fingers up and down them, “Something to look forward to then.” 

Jamie turns his head to look at Roy, eyes a little darker, chest moving up and down a little quicker. 

The moment is broken by a sharp knock at the door, and they both start just a little. Jamie calls out for the nurse to come in and it’s all beginning now. The nurse comes into the room, and Roy shifts out of the way, moving to stand off to the side as they move his chair. They stick needles into the catheter in the back of Jamie’s hand, hooking him up to the IV bags hanging on the pole, place electrodes on his chest that start to beep gently with a machine. 

Every now and again, Jamie catches Roy’s eye, between probing questions and people moving his limbs about. He looks alarmed, but serious, ready in a way that Roy feels strangely proud of. 

It’s only a few more minutes as they are clicking the brakes off of the wheels on the bed, and they start to wheel Jamie out of the room. Roy wants to reach out and touch Jamie, any part of him, before he goes for who knows how long. But he’s afraid, there are so many people in the room, people who likely already think it’s strange that Roy is here anyway. He doesn’t know whether he can. But before he can think on it for too long, Jamie reaches out with the hand that’s only attached to a pulse oximeter clipped onto his finger and grasps Roy’s hand. Squeezing tightly just once, and then letting go, Roy feels a surge inside his chest as he watches Jamie being wheeled out of the room and he is left there in the large empty space, in silence. 

***

Roy sits alone in that room for hours, wondering whether he should call someone, Ted or Keeley or anyone. But he remembers the conversation he and Jamie had once the date had been set for the surgery, that this entire process was on a need to know basis only. He didn’t want anyone else to know, no one else needed to know. At least not for now. Jamie wanted the least amount of fuss possible and the least amount of fanfare. Do it and be done with it. 

But as Roy waits and waits and waits, he wishes just a little that he had someone to share it with. To somehow take this nervousness and unburden him of it. Eventually the time ticks past 9pm and he is asked firmly to leave, visiting hours are over. He asks just a little desperately after Jamie, if there are any updates, but as every response he has gotten in the last few hours he is promised a phone call when an update is available, and currently there are none. Now he has been asked to return once morning visiting hours resume, at 8am. 

So he goes home, remnants of Jamie from the last two weeks littering his house. A jumper here, a mug there, and a faint smell of Jamie’s aftershave Roy swears he can sense lingering. He goes to bed, and barely sleeps, glancing at his phone every few minutes checking for a phone call he knows he did not miss. 

It’s another couple of hours before the call comes through, that Jamie is in recovery now. The surgery is finished, only a small complication with a bile duct, but he is well, he is fine. He’s fine . Roy could honestly almost cry, and he sets an alarm for 7, so he can get to the hospital right on visiting hours. He texts Ted the news, because he promised he would tell him that the surgery went okay. And he then actually sleeps, suddenly exhausted. 

***

Roy gets Jamie’s new room number from a different nurse from the day before, discovering that it is only just down the hallway from his room from yesterday. He wonders whether he should knock, but he lingers outside for just a moment, he hears nothing from inside except for some gentle beeping, so he walks in.  

And it feels like yesterday, but instead of Jamie’s grey eyes piercing into his own, Roy is met with a far more sombre sight. Jamie’s blankets pulled up to his chest, arms out and littered with needles and medical tape. His midsection is a little bulky and bloated, and Roy shivers thinking about what is underneath. Though his face is grey around the edges, it is peaceful, a cannula sitting just underneath his nose, his eyes closed and still. There is a disjointed beeping of several machines behind him, two IV bags dripping slowly. It’s all a lot to take in. 

Roy makes his way to the chair and he drags it a little closer to the bedside, and he perches on the edge, wanting to reach out and take Jamie’s hand, but there are needles in the back of it and Roy doesn’t want to fucking hurt him. So he just touches his fingers gently, resting his own fingers against them. 

A doctor comes in not long after and tells Roy that Jamie should be waking up shortly, that he’s only been out of recovery for a couple of short hours. That the surgery overall went well, he starts to talk about the surgery on Jamie’s father, that the transplant was successful. But Roy stops him short, and asks him firmly, “Don’t fucking mention him when Jamie wakes up. I’ll tell him.” 

***

It’s past midday before Jamie’s eyes flutter open and he lets out an exhale that makes Roy look up from the book sitting in his lap. His eyes clench together for a moment, in what Roy thinks looks like pain, and then they open again, staring straight up at the ceiling. 

Roy looks at him, and thinks that he’s not sure if Jamie even knows he’s there and he doesn’t want to startle him, so he very quietly whispers out, “Hey.” 

Jamie’s eyes flick first towards Roy, before his head lolls slightly to the side, not startled, but Roy can see his eyes now and they are hooded and clouded in a way that Roy can only assume means that Jamie is still drugged the fuck up on the last dregs of the anesthesia. 

Jamie doesn’t say anything, but swallows slowly, and he lets out another deep exhale and winces. So Roy fills the empty space. 

“The surgery all went okay, you’re fine. You did good, Jamie, it’s all good,” he says quietly, gently moving a stray piece of hair that had fallen limply over Jamie’s forehead. 

Jamie’s eyes close for a moment and it looks a little like relief, they open again briefly for a second, and then shutter closed and they don’t open again for long enough that Roy assumes that he’s fallen asleep again. 

Roy keeps his fingers in Jamie’s hair, just carding through it gently, though it doesn’t need to be moved anymore. He suddenly and scarily feels his eyes start to prickle at the edges, and he blinks quickly to stop the process in its tracks. ‘He’s fine you big baby twat, no fucking need for that’ he thinks to himself. 

He watches Jamie’s chest rise in a steady, slow motion, counting them as he waits for him to wake up again. 

***

Jamie’s second time waking up is much more successful than the first, though a little more dramatic. It starts with a low groan, deep from Jamie’s chest that makes Roy almost drop the book this time, he looks and sees Jamie’s eyes clenched again. 

Jamie gets in first this time, and he croaks out a dry and scratchy, “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” Roy breathes out, folding down the edge of the page he’s on and putting it down, not sure what to do with his hands, so he settles on stuffing them in his lap, “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like I just got half me liver cut out,” Jamie says, his eyes still drooping in a way, shrouded and glassy.

“Funny man,” Roy goads, but he’s secretly glad that Jamie’s lucid enough to be dicking about at least a little bit. 

Jamie's mouth twitches a little, and he tries to clear his throat but the movement is even too much and he groans out softly, his midsection seizing up. 

“ God , it does fucking hurt,” Jamie breathes out.

Roy tentatively places a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and rubs his thumb back and forth, not wanting to touch him too much, he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

“Do you want me to call a nurse?” Roy asks. 

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Assume I’m already on the drugs, so it’s all good.” 

“Yeah, but if you’re in pain they can do something, give you more,” Roy pushes a little. 

Jamie just shakes his head again, “S’alright, not meant to be pain free is it?” And Roy stops himself from pushing it again, and he wonders why Jamie feels the need to punish himself so much, to put up with the pain even though he doesn’t have to. 

There’s silence for a beat and then Jamie asks, clearly not awake enough the first time Roy told him, “Did it all go okay?” And Roy looks into Jamie's eyes and there’s more of a question there, he’s asking about his father and Roy doesn’t know how much to say. 

“Surgery all went well,” Roy says slowly, contemplating his next words carefully, “All of it went well.” 

Jamie nods slightly and Roy sees him chew the inside of his mouth before he asks, “He’s made it through, right?” 

And Roy’s heart clenches, and he responds tightly, “That’s what I’ve been told.” 

Jamie’s face does a strange thing that’s somewhere between anxiety and relief, like there’s two thoughts competing for each other. Like Jamie wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be to that question. 

Eventually Jamie just says, “Okay,” and that’s it. That’s enough for now. 

***

Roy spends the rest of the day in the hospital, right up until 9pm when he’s kicked out. Honestly, Jamie has slept most of the day, his face twitching restlessly because of the pain throughout. Nurses and doctors come in to check vitals and give updates. They’re told that Jamie will be able to try some clear liquids tomorrow and if he’s able to keep them down, then he can move on to plain solids. They are updated on the bile duct issues during the surgery, that they’ve had to put a drain in that will be removed before Jamie gets to go home in about a week. They’re told it’s gone well, all things considered, and that Jamie is fit, healthy and young, so he should recover well and quickly. 

Jamie and Roy talk quietly when Jamie is awake, and Roy reads out loud from his book because Jamie says he’s bored already but switching on the TV hurts his eyes and makes his stomach feel more fragile than it already is. But mostly, Roy watches Jamie sleep. 

As the nurse comes in to tell Roy that visiting hours are over, Jamie reaches out for Roy’s hand and says so earnestly it makes Roy’s throat close up, “Thank you for staying.” 

Roy ducks his head and says, “Where else would I fucking be, you prat.” And he can’t be earnest all the time, he’s fucking trying okay? 

But Jamie just huffs out a small laugh and says, “Dunno, fucking Mallorca or something, innit? Not dreary fucking Richmond.” 

“Mallorca’s shit this time of year,” Roy mumbles out, even though it’s a bald-faced fucking lie. 

“Mm yeah, I hate the sun and cocktails and the beach in 30 degree weather,” Jamie muses with a smile on his face. 

Roy runs a hand over his mouth and then says, “You’re welcome.” A little late, but he got there. 

Jamie squeezes his hand and starts to say, “Are you-,” but he cuts himself off. 

Roy doesn’t need him to finish though, as he says quickly, “I’ll be knocking on that fucking door at 8:01 tomorrow morning.” 

Jamie’s smile is blinding and brilliant and ‘God , he’s so fucking pretty,’ Roy thinks. So he leans forward, and presses his lips gently to Jamie’s temple, lingering for a moment. 

“Sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning,” Roy says into Jamie’s skin, and he stands up from the chair. 

“You too,” Jamie says, looking so small in the bed as Roy reaches the door and glances back. 

***

Roy has been lulled into a bit of a false sense of security over the past couple of days, with Jamie pumped full of IV drugs and lying horizontal and mostly sleeping, there hasn’t been an awful lot to contend with. Jamie’s in pain, but he’s slept through most of it. He knows when he walks in the next morning that it’s not really going to be all that easy of a day. 

He knocks gently on the door, because he can hear soft voices coming from inside, and before he can hear an answer a nurse walks out of the room, clearly not having heard the knock. 

“Oh, sorry, I’ve just finished up vitals, you can head in if you like,” she says briskly, already walking up the hallway away from him. 

So he does walk in, sticking his head around the corner, “You decent, Tartt?” 

“Yeah,” Jamie says softly groans out, his face screwed up in pain as he tries to shift himself up the bed into a sitting position. 

“Where the fuck d’you think you’re going?” Roy says, taking a couple of strides towards the bed and placing a firm hand on both of Jamie’s shoulders. 

Jamie is breathing a little heavily, either because of frustration or overexertion, Roy can’t tell. But he slowly lets himself be pushed back down into the pillows, and he lifts up his needle free hand and pulls the cannula out from underneath his nose in what Roy can now tell is indeed frustration. 

“Hey,” Roy says, gently grabbing Jamie’s hand and placing it back down on the bed, then putting the cannula back under Jamie’s nose, “none of that. What’s your fucking problem then?” The words are harsh, but his tone is so soft he almost makes himself sick. 

Jamie’s eyes are brighter today, Roy notices, less painkillers perhaps. 

“It fucking irritates me throat, that shit,” Jamie says, gesturing to his face, “they said I have to keep it on though.” 

“Better listen to them then,” Roy says, sitting down next to the bed, “Why’re you trying to get up?” 

Jamie just exhales slowly and says, “They said that I have to be able to sit and stand before they take the catheter out, and I tried to do it earlier this morning and passed out because it hurt so much. Just feels shit, so was trying again.” 

Roy tries not to be outwardly alarmed by this admission of Jamie passing out, tries not to be totally fucking mental about Jamie’s general wellbeing, but he’s not sure how well he does when Jamie says, “I’m fucking fine, don’t worry.” 

“Clearly not,” Roy says lowly. 

There’s a beat of silence before Roy asks, “If the nurses say you can, I can help you try and sit up if you wanna take a standing piss that badly.” 

Jamie huffs out a small laugh, “Nurses stamp of approval, they just need to see me do it when they come in and do vitals next.” 

“Okay, you wanna try now?” Roy asks. 

Jamie nods, so Roy stands up and gently folds down the blanket that was sitting up close on Jamie’s chest, and his stomach turns a little when he sees small faded bloody stains on Jamie’s hospital gown. 

Jamie sees him looking at it and says quietly, “It’s fine, it’s just from when they emptied the drain, they’ve gotta do it again in a few hours so they’ll give me a new gown then. It’s not even really blood, just the fluid’s a bit bloody.” 

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Roy grumbles and Jamie just smiles a bit. 

“I’ll make sure you’re in the room when they do it next, it’s fucking minging.” 

“ You’re disgusting,” Roy says, then he holds out both his hands for Jamie to take. 

Jamie takes them, and Roy adjusts his grip so his fingers aren’t anywhere near the needles, not wanting to disturb them. Roy starts to pull gently on Jamie, noticing that Jamie’s arms are already shaking a little. Jamie groans low and deep as his mid-section starts to move, “ Fuck ,” he breathes out. 

“You wanna stop?” Roy asks quickly. 

Jamie just shakes his head, brow furrowed and eyes clenched tight, and he pushes on Roy’s hands trying to leverage himself vertically. Eventually they get there, and Jamie is sitting up, hunched over and moaning something terrible, chest heaving, but he’s there. 

Roy lets him rest there a moment and then asks, “Do you want to try standing?” 

Jamie nods again, seemingly unable to get any words out, and Roy shifts the blankets off of Jamie’s legs with one hand and notices the compression stockings. 

“Sexy socks,” Roy says, because he can’t fucking help himself. 

“God, fuck off ,” Jamie says, but even through the pain Roy can tell he’s not being serious. 

But Roy laughs a little anyway, feeling a bit too much in that moment, it’s so close and strange and nice, he presses his lips to Jamie’s temple and mumbles, “Sorry.” 

Jamie starts to move his legs towards the edge of the bed, and after a few moments of shuffling he gets there, and his legs dangle off the side of it. At that last movement he moans deep in his chest, the twisting motion looking painful. His head hangs low, chin to chest, and he’s breathing deeply through his nose. 

“You alright?” Roy asks gently, because he knows that look, like someone’s about to puke. He looks around, and sees on Jamie’s side table an unused vomit bag and slowly reaches over to grab it. 

Jamie makes a small noise that’s a little undefinable, but then it’s only a couple of seconds later that he starts to retch, hand coming up to his mouth and covering it. Roy yanks his hand away and replaces it with the bag, other hand coming up to hold the back of Jamie’s neck. 

“You’re okay, it’s okay,” Roy says, as Jamie continues to gag into the bag for a few moments. Roy just holds him there, trying not to panic, trying to tell himself that it’s normal and that nausea and vomiting are expected after major surgery, it’s fine . 

It’s a good minute or so before Jamie pulls his head back a little, breathing heavily and so grey around the edges that it’s a bit alarming. The bag barely even has anything in it though, and Roy supposes it makes sense, Jamie hasn’t really eaten anything in over two days at this point. 

“M’sorry,” Jamie mumbles, eyes closed, swaying a little against Roy’s hand that’s still at the back of his head. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Roy whispers, “You wanna lie back down?” 

Jamie takes a moment and then says, “No, just give me a minute.” So Roy does, he waits as Jamie breathes deeply, eyes still closed, watching as a little colour comes back into his face. 

“Just wanna stand up for a second, so I know I can,” Jamie says as he opens his eyes. 

“You don’t have to Jamie, there’s no fucking prize for standing the quickest after surgery,” Roy says. 

“Well aware. Still want to,” Jamie says, and there’s a little bite to his voice now like he’s actually frustrated, so Roy fucking shuts his mouth on the sarcasm for now. 

So Roy holds out his hands again, and Jamie grabs them right away and pushes up into a standing position in one swift movement. His arms are shaking, and he’s hunched over, not able to straighten out his middle, but he’s standing, and that seems to be good enough. He stands for a moment and tries to lift his head and stand a little taller, and he does for a moment before using Roy’s arms to lower himself back down onto the bed again, letting out something between a sigh and a groan. 

Roy helps him shuffle back up the bed, and when Jamie puts his head back against the pillows he really does sigh in what Roy recognises as sheer relief. 

It’s a good couple of minutes before Jamie speaks. “Fuck me,” he breathes out, and Roy thinks about the same, “I can show the nurses though next time they’re in here, then they can take this tube out of me dick.” 

Roy laughs a little and says, “Good motivation I guess.” 

There’s a moment where they’re just looking at each other, Jamie’s hooded and tired eyes, and Roy can only assume his fond ones. And the moment is one of such tenderness and intimacy that it almost takes Roy by surprise. It’s a closeness that Roy isn’t sure he’s felt before, and sure he’s had moments where he looks at people and he loves them, he knows he’s had that. But he’s looking at Jamie, bloody hospital gown, vomit in a bag next to him, messy hair, pale faced, and he can honestly fucking say that he’s gone for him. It’s almost so inconceivable that it makes Roy a little dizzy. 

Instead of saying all of that though, Roy just says gently, “I’m proud of you, you know that right?” 

And Jamie’s eyebrows jump up a little and he barely even smiles before he says, “Yeah, reckon I do.” 

And somehow that’s even nicer to hear. 

***

It is a day of wins in the end, because Jamie does get his catheter taken out and a nurse takes him for standing piss and Jamie grins through the pain like he’s just scored the winner at the fucking World Cup. And then he was able to keep down clear fluids, so they bring him a plain cheese sandwich that he moans orgasmically around and Roy will never admit that the sound goes a little bit straight to his dick. 

Though he does end up watching two of the nurses empty the drain and change the dressings on Jamie’s stomach. And it is just as fucking full-on as he thought it would be. The drain is actually fine, but the red, angry, raw stitches that line Jamie’s entire stomach in a big c-shape makes Roy’s own stomach turn. He’s only allowed to watch because Jamie hesitantly had said that Roy will be looking after him when he gets sent home, and the nurses said that it would be good for him to watch how to change the dressings. 

He watches Jamie’s face twist as the nurses press along the scar slightly to adhere the dressings. Thinking that he desperately doesn’t want to have to do that to him, he doesn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already is. 

After the nurses leave the room, and Jamie is lying in bed with his eyes closed but his breathing gives it away that he’s still awake, Roy asks, “Did you mean it when you told them I’d be looking after you?” 

Jamie opens his eyes, and doesn’t quite meet Roy’s, “Uh, yeah, if that’s alright. I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought…” And he trails off. 

“I want to,” Roy says, and that’s the end of that. To be honest, Roy already thought that was going to happen. He’s never been one for much discussion about things, but maybe assuming that was a bit too much of an assumption. 

“If I haven’t made it fucking obvious, I really want to,” Roy says again, firmly, self-assured. 

Jamie lowers his eyes and chews the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile, “Fuck, Roy…” 

Roy stands from his seat, leans a little over Jamie and tips his chin upwards so he’s looking up at him. And Roy lowers his head and captures Jamie’s mouth in his, pressing down softly and then firmly once he feels Jamie open his mouth against his. Jamie sighs softly into Roy’s mouth, then moans in the back of his throat when Roy presses his tongue into Jamie’s. Roy presses in just a little further, wanting to taste the entirety of him, every single last drop. Jamie reaches up to grasp at the back of Roy’s neck, and Roy feels him tense a little at the movement, so he reaches up and puts his hand over Jamie’s, lowering it again. He intertwines their fingers and settles them in the base of Jamie’s neck. After a few moments, he ghosts his lips over Jamie’s, just touching at the edge of nerve endings and he feels like he’s on fucking fire . 

He sits back down in the seat next to the bed, lounging back a little, looking over at Jamie’s whose mouth is red and wet and fuck he looks so good. 

Jamie licks his lips and sighs before he says with a smirk, “Sorry, me mouth tastes fucking gross, haven’t brushed since before the surgery.” 

“Disgusting boy,” Roy says lowly, but it’s soft and fond, and he doesn’t even care that Jamie’s mouth tastes a bit like shit, “They’re going to kick me out in a minute.” And he’s right, it’s only a few minutes until visiting hours are over. 

“Can you bring me a book when you come back tomorrow?” Jamie asks. 

“What one?” Roy asks back as he gathers up his own book from the bedside table. 

“Surprise me,” Jamie says, “Just sleeping less, and I think I’m gonna get dead fucking bored, really quickly.” 

“A glowing review of my company then,” Roy says. 

“Fuck off,” Jamie laughs a little, “you sit there and read all the time.” 

Roy just grunts, because he can’t argue much with that. 

He leans over Jamie and presses his lips gently and chastely to Jamie’s, not even really saying goodbye, because that’s enough. He’ll see him in the morning. 

***

Roy wakes up the next morning and checks his phone, and it takes him a good minute to even figure out what’s happening. There’s far more messages than he’s used to, and his brain can’t really comprehend them properly until he sees Keeley’s number come up. 

Call me when you wake up x

That makes him sit up a little straighter, and he finally processes some of the other notifications that have come through. 

It seems some fucking prick has taken a photo of Roy coming out of Jamie’s room in hospital, his name clearly visibly on the wall behind Roy’s shoulder. There’s all sorts of speculation, obviously no one really getting anything right. But it’s mostly about why Jamie is in the hospital, since nothing had been previously released by Richmond stating he had been injured or unwell. Roy’s presence is a secondary headline, at best a supportive coach, at worst people wondering why he’s even there at all considering he and Jamie’s history of public feuds. 

Roy runs a heavy hand over his face, digging his fingers into his eyes, then presses the call button. 

“Roy! You alright?” Keeley asks, trying to be pretty chipper. 

“Fine,” Roy grunts, not capable of much more than that. 

“I’m assuming you’ve seen all the articles then?” Keeley asks carefully. 

“Enough of them,” Roy says, pushing himself up from the bed and wandering into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. 

There’s a hesitant pause. “Is Jamie okay?” Keeley asks. 

Roy doesn’t quite know how to answer that question, and it’s really just dawning on him that this is a really fucked up conversation to be having. He’s discussing with his ex-girlfriend, her ex-boyfriend, who he is involved with now to some degree but is so far devoid of a label. He’s worried about how this is all going to go down, he fears it won’t be that well. 

“Yeah, he’s fine, fine enough anyway,” Roy eventually answers, dipping his teabag up and down in the mug. 

Keeley says a quick, “Good, good,” and then pauses for just a moment, “Why were you there, Roy?” 

Roy inhales deeply and decides this is not a conversation he should be having over the phone. 

“Can you come to the hospital today?” he asks. 

“Oh, yeah I can, when will you be there?” Keeley asks, she sounds a little lost. 

Only a little embarrassed, Roy answers, “Visiting hours. I’ll be there all day.” 

Keeley is slower to respond now, but eventually she says, “Right, well, I don’t have a meeting until 11, so I’ll be there in an hour?” 

“Text me when you’re there and I’ll meet you at the entrance,” Roy tells her. 

They say brief goodbyes and hang up. Roy leans up against the counter and his stomach turns. He really hadn’t thought about what he and Jamie were doing, whatever the fuck it was, and how it would look to other people. How it would look to people like Keeley. He’d been so caught up in making sure Jamie was okay, that he had someone there, that he had completely neglected the fact that the entire fucking rest of the world existed. 

He gets himself ready, picks out a book for Jamie, and drives himself to the hospital. Jamie is asleep when he gets there, so he settles himself in and waits for Keeley’s text. He doesn’t look at his phone much, the world is already moving on from the news that Jamie is in hospital, Richmond releasing a short statement about him having a surgery in the off-season to remedy a lingering medical problem. Lingering medical problem my arse, Roy thinks. 

Keeley texts him not long after he gets there, Jamie having not woken up yet. He goes down a level and sees her near the front entrance, sitting on a plastic chair, knee bouncing up and down restlessly. 

She sees Roy and jumps up, walking towards him and to all her credit, wraps her arms around him. And god , she is just so lovely, and Roy feels a twinge of nostalgic pain over something that almost happened but wasn’t meant to be. 

“Hey,” Keeley says, pulling back from the hug. 

Roy just nods at her, and then they start to walk towards the cafeteria of the hospital, where Roy has bought one too many shitty coffees from already in the last few days, but he buys them two anyway and they take a seat in the back corner, away from other people as much as possible. 

Roy grasps the coffee cup with both hands, stiff and awkward, he doesn’t know how to fucking start this conversation. 

Keeley eventually just reaches out and puts a small hand over one of his and squeezes gently, “Talk to me Roy, sign of life at least.” 

Roy intakes an unsteady breath and looks up at her, and she looks so worried, and he imagines that she would be. What a situation to walk into and she’s got none of the details. 

“You know Jamie’s dad, right?” Roy starts. 

Keeley nods tightly and then says, “Yeah, fucking arsehole. Only met him properly once, gave me the worst vibes, real skeevy you know?” She pauses for a second and then says suddenly, “Oh god, Roy, what’s he done to him now?” 

Roy believes the panic, because he knows that he’s way fucking worse than just skeevy, and he knows now that Keeley knows it too. Because despite the distance from it, she did date Jamie. Judging by her reaction she must know what Jamie’s father has done to him in the past; the abuse, the intimidation, the trauma. 

“It’s kind of a fucked up situation, but because he’s a fucking raging alcoholic, he’s fucked his liver and was going to die if he didn’t get a transplant. He was probably going to die on the waiting list, and Jamie convinced himself that-” 

“Oh God , he fucking didn’t,” Keeley interrupts suddenly putting the pieces together before Roy can finish, her hand up to her mouth.

Roy nods, jaw clenched like he’s learning the information himself for the first time again, it still makes his fucking insides feel like they’re on fire and like he wants to punch a fucking wall. He looks up and Keeley’s eyes are shining with unshed tears, and she tries to blink them away. 

“Why would he do that?” she asks in a tiny voice, like she’s far away. 

“He wanted to do the ‘right thing’,” Roy answers, “wanted to be a better man than his father.” 

Keeley does let a tear slide down her cheek at that, “He fucking is already. What the fuck , I can’t believe this.” 

“Preaching to the fucking choir,” Roy mumbles out, taking a long sip of his coffee. 

Keeley rests her head in her hand in contemplation for a moment, before she too takes a small sip and then asks, “Can I see him?”

Roy balks at that, “I’m not his fucking keeper, you can do whatever you want.” 

Keeley’s eyes narrow a little and she tilts her head before asking, “Then why are you here everyday acting like private security?” 

Roy swallows thickly, he doesn’t quite know the answer to that question, because he can’t exactly burst out with the actual reason, that he feels this pull towards Jamie that he can’t explain and that he wants to protect him and look after him and kiss his forehead, his lips, his jaw, that he wants to make sure he’s okay. That he wants to sit with him and talk and laugh and not waste another fucking second pretending he hates him, because he can’t fucking do that anymore. He won’t. 

Instead he shrugs a little and says instead, “Because he asked me to be here.” 

Keeley smiles the softest of smiles, fond and warm. 

“Do you have something you want to share with the class, babe?” she asks gently, carefully. 

Roy shifts uncomfortably in the plastic chair, he should’ve fucking known Keeley would figure it out before he had the chance to say anything. 

“No,” Roy grunts out, though it’s more choked out. 

Keeley just raises her eyebrows at him and waits, she’s always been good at that. Being patient until Roy is ready to say something. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, Keeley, it just fucking happened out of nowhere,” he rushes out eventually. “One minute I fucking can’t stand him and the next he’s actually being nice , and good , and fucking pleasant to be around.” 

Keeley smiles a little and urges him to go on, so he does. 

“And then we started one-on-one training, and went to Amsterdam and rode bikes and saw a fucking windmill and he knew so much about Amsterdam, it was so fucking strange. And then all this shit started to go down with his dad, and I think it just started with me wanting to be there for him as a mate, and now I don’t know what it is.” 

Keeley is smiling over the lid of her coffee, her eyes soft and not at all angry like Roy thought they would be, he asks as much. 

“You pissed?” 

Keeleys reaches out again and grabs both his hands this time, “Babe, I’m so fucking happy for you. For you both. You know that I adore the both of you, you're so special to me. If you’re both happy, then so am I.” 

She’s too fucking good for either of them, Roy thinks. 

“You sure?” Roy asks. 

She laughs a little and then says, “Completely sure. I love you both, but not like that anymore. And to be honest, I can see how you two would fit, hard and soft in all the right places.” 

Roy nods and contemplates that last bit. He thinks they’re a pretty fucking weird fit, but maybe he’ll have to think on it a bit more. 

Keeley takes her hands back and drains the last sips of her coffee, “That tasted like shit, Roy, you owe me a better one.” 

Roy smiles and laughs at that, the tension of the moment dissipating before him and something loosens in his chest that he didn’t feel forming, “Fair, the tea on the ward is even fucking worse if you can believe.” 

“Tragic,” Keeley laughs back, “does Jamie know I’m here?” 

“No, the lazy prick was asleep when I got here,” Roy says, “if we head up now though he might be awake.” 

He grabs the two coffee cups and puts them in the bin, and they walk together to the elevators and onto the ward. Right before they get to Jamie’s room, Keeley stops him with a gentle hand to his arm, he looks down at her and her eyes are wide and glassy. 

“He’s okay, right?” she asks, “like, this isn’t going to be some scary fucking scene when I walk in?” 

“He’s fine, just tired and sore and can’t move around that much. But he’s alright,” Roy says, and it actually feels good to say out loud, to convince himself a little bit as well. 

They get to the room, Roy knocking gently and asking “Jamie?” as they go to round the corner into it. 

“Thank fuck you’re here, did you see the fucking news, they-” Jamie starts saying before he stops short when he sees Keeley walk in right after Roy. 

“Keeley,” he says, clearly surprised. 

“Hi Jamie,” she says cautiously, walking towards the bed. She walks right up to him and asks, “can I hug you?” 

Jamie nods, voice clearly not working and he leans into her body as she loosely wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

Roy is still standing at the end of the bed, but he and Jamie are making eye contact and Jamie is looking fucking frantic. 

“Keeley and I talked this morning after the news broke about you being in hospital, she fucking guessed…about us. She’s fine with it,” Roy says quickly and briefly, unsure how to label whatever it is he and Jamie are doing, but wanting Jamie to know as quickly as possible that everything was all okay. 

He watches Jamie visibly deflate in relief as he says it, then look up at Keeley and ask, “Really?” 

“Really, you don’t have to worry about me,” she says, sitting down in Roy’s seat next to the bed, “how are you though?” 

Roy watches Keeley and Jamie talk back and forth, about the surgery, about recovery, a little about his dad, about the news breaking, about Roy. He finds he doesn’t mind sitting on the outside of it all, pretending he’s reading his book, but listening in carefully. He watches Jamie out of the corner of his eye, light catching him from the open windows, and there’s some colour back in his face today and it catches in Roy’s throat when he just think over and over, fuck he’s beautiful . Laughing easily and joking around with Keeley, someone who Roy knows he loves and trusts, it’s so good to see him happy. 

After a while, Keeley checks her phone for the time and Roy says he’ll walk her downstairs. She hugs Jamie goodbye and asks if she can come and visit again, and Jamie’s face lights up in a bright smile and he nods. 

Roy and Keeley ride the elevator down, not able to talk since there’s a few other people in there, but they step out into the hospital foyer and stop short of the entrance. 

“Thanks for coming, it was good for him,” Roy says, and me, he adds in his head as an afterthought. He hadn’t realised how much of a relief it was to have someone to talk to about this, how difficult it’s been to keep it all to himself, even some of it away from Jamie. 

Keeley nods and smiles tightly, “I’m glad I did.” 

“He’ll go home in a few days,” Roy adds, he’s not sure why, something to fill the space. He doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. 

But the silence continues, and she’s looking at him so intently that he continues to fill the silence, but this time with something a bit more real, “I’m sorry Keeley, about what happened between us. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know I did, I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you Roy. You don’t need to apologise, sometimes things just don’t work out,” Keeley says quietly, sadly, “make sure you treat him right though. He really deserves it.” 

And it’s a bit of a damning statement, and the thing is that Roy knows it. 

He holds his breath for a second before he says quietly, “It’s scaring me how much I care about him.” 

Keeley smiles gently, “That’s a good thing Roy, it feels a bit terrible because it matters.” 

And he knows that too, that he can already feel how much it matters, how much it all means. He reaches out and pulls Keeley into a tight hug and says what he’s been thinking all morning, “You’re so good, neither of us ever deserved you.” 

Keeley laughs into his chest, pulls back a bit and says, “You’re fucking right you didn’t.” But then she squeezes him back before pulling out of the hug. She says she’ll call him later and organise when to come and see Jamie again, and then she’s off. 

He meanders back up to Jamie’s room afterwards, contemplating for a moment whether to get another shitty coffee before deciding against it. He rounds the corner into Jamie’s room, and doesn’t get an answer after a gentle knock, and he’s only alarmed for a moment when the bed is empty, sheets pulled off to the side. 

The alarm is gone when he hears a flush from the bathroom and water running gently, and Jamie opens up the door to the bathroom a moment later. As he sees Roy standing there he smiles and says, “You seeing this?” 

Roy nods and says, “I do,” and even though it makes him nervous, he knows that this is a big moment for Jamie. First unassisted trip to the bathroom. Huge stuff. 

But then Roy can’t help himself and he adds, “Should’ve waited for me, what if something happened?” 

“But it didn’t,” Jamie says, looking genuinely a bit confused, “knew I could do it, so I did.” 

Roy takes a deep breath, before he says, “Okay then, let’s just get you back alright?” 

Jamie nods and starts to walk slowly towards the bed, leaning heavily on the IV pole he’s still hooked up to as one of the wheels squeaks as it rolls alongside him. He moves as though he’s been badly winded by a stray football, a little bent over and moving gingerly, but he’s moving, that’s the important thing. After shutting the door to Jamie’s room, Roy follows close behind and holds out a hand that Jamie doesn’t take as he sits down carefully on the edge of the bed. He watches as Jamie shuffles himself back slowly on the bed, and tries to hide a wince as he lifts his legs up and around, Roy knows that pulls at the stitches and activates the ab muscles that have been sliced open. He doesn’t force his help on Jamie though, just waiting for him to ask, unsurprised when it doesn’t come and Jamie lays back gently on the bed. 

“See, all good,” Jamie says a little breathlessly, smiling up at Roy, “you worry too much.” 

“I worry just the right amount,” Roy grumbles under his breath as he leans over and presses his lips to Jamie’s, thumbing over his cheek for a moment before pulling back and sitting in the chair. 

He watches as Jamie lightly touches a finger to his lips, chasing Roy’s touch for a moment. 

Roy nods towards Jamie’s phone that’s sitting on the bedside table, he thinks about the news of the morning, “You alright?” 

Jamie’s mouth twists for a second before he says, “I guess, was gonna get out eventually.” 

Roy shifts a bit in his seat, “You know we’re probably going to have to be a bit more careful here?” 

Jamie almost laughs at that, “Mate, you just fucking walked in and snogged me, and you’re telling me to be careful? 

Roy rolls his eyes, because he supposes he can’t really argue with that, “That was barely a kiss, grow up.” 

Jamie’s still smiling at him a little, tilts his head to the side, and says, “Barely kiss me again then, go on.” 

“You’re a little fucking teasing prick. I’m serious about being careful,” Roy says, and he will simply never admit out loud to anyone that Jamie saying that, with that face, in that tone, has given him a half fucking chub. God , he needs to fucking relax. 

Jamie looks up at him through hooded eyes, and says, “I’m good at being careful.” 

Roy pulls in a breath and says, “All I’m saying is maybe we shut the fucking door once in a while, so nurses have to knock and wait before they come in.” 

“Smart,” Jamie says, “that means you’ll still kiss me then? More?” 

Roy bites the inside of his cheek, he’s going to be the fucking death of me , he thinks. 

“Maybe when the fucking 40cm of stitches are taken out of your stomach,” Roy says and he shifts in his seat because fuck if he isn’t getting turned on even more just by the thought of doing something more with Jamie. 

“Aw that’s not fair, the doctor said it’ll take them at least a couple of weeks to dissolve,” Jamie whines, throwing his head back into the pillow. 

“We can maybe get a little creative then,” Roy says softly, leaning in closer again to Jamie. 

Jamie lifts his head up to be closer to Roy, “Yeah, show me what you can do?” 

“You fucking wish,” Roy whispers into the small space between them. 

Jamie pants out a breath and bites his lower lip hard, “ Fuck , Roy, I do wish, c’mon please.” 

And Roy’s brain goes almost complete blank static hearing Jamie fucking beg for it. 

“God, you can’t fucking say shit like that when we can’t actually do anything,” Roy says through gritted teeth. 

“What? Are you getting turned on?” Jamie says, faux innocence dancing around the edge of his voice that’s gone a little ragged, “Getting turned on just from hearing me talk?” 

“ Fuck ,” Roy says, and he can’t help it, he pushes down with his palm on his half-hard dick, sighing at the pressure. 

He looks up at Jamie, and Jamie’s pupils are blown and his mouth is hanging open, red and wet, and he’s looking down at Roy’s hand against his pants, chest moving up and down too rapidly for Roy’s liking. He gives his dick one last push of pressure, relishing in the contact, and he brings his hand back up and runs it roughly through his short hair. 

“Fuck, Roy, I wanna see you touch yourself, please,” Jamie breathes out quickly. 

Roy shakes his head slightly, and he feels a part of his brain trying desperately to regain control, and he’s trying to hold onto it. But it’s a bit fucking hard, with Jamie right there, saying all the right things at the wrong fucking time, and he thinks just quietly that he hasn’t been this fucking turned on in a long time. 

“C’mon, I’ll be good, promise,” Jamie pleads, “I just wanna watch, please.” 

Roy groans a little at that, and he says roughly, “Don’t you dare fucking touch yourself, Tartt, don’t wanna have to explain pulled fucking stitches to the doctor.” 

And as Jamie nods fervently, Roy leans forward and kisses Jamie, hot and open mouthed, and Jamie melts into it. But before it’s too much, Roy pulls back and leans back in his seat. If Jamie wants to fucking watch, he can give him something to watch. 

He makes eye contact with Jamie, who is now leaning back in the bed, hand fisting the sheets at his sides. He sees Jamie’s eyes follow his hands down as they start to undo the button and zipper of his jeans, and at first all he does is reach a hand below the denim and palm along his cock. He lets out a ragged breathy moan at the contact, only putting it on a little for Jamie. But he’s rewarded with Jamie’s own faint moan and his prick twitches at the sound of it. 

“Feel good?” Jamie asks, sounding strained. 

Roy now pushes his jeans down a little, grabbing his dick now in his boxers, “Feels so fucking good, feel even better if it was you.” And it’s fucking true, he wants Jamie all over him, under him, in him. 

“Fuck, keep touching yourself, you look so fucking good,” Jamie says breathlessly. 

Roy can’t help himself any longer, he pulls his cock out from his boxers and starts squeezing it at its base, letting out a moan so Jamie knows it’s good, knows it’s for him. Before he can get too much further, he leans forward and holds out his palm to Jamie’s mouth, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen, as Jamie licks a long, wet stripe up the length of it. Just to fucking almost send Roy off the edge too early, Jamie takes one of Roy’s fingers into his mouth and sucks on it in a way that Roy thinks should be fucking illegal. He watches Jamie’s mouth pop off the finger in an obscene way, and Roy slumps back down into the chair and touches his cock with his wet hand. 

He starts pumping up and down the length of it, thumbing the slit and slicking up his hand even more with pre cum. He looks up at Jamie, who’s watching Roy’s hand with an intensity Roy has never seen before, mouth slung open and panting. 

“I can’t fucking wait for you to go down on me,” Roy says, and Jamie’s eyes flick towards his, “that pretty fucking mouth would look so good.” 

“ Roy ,” Jamie says, and that seems to be all he can say. 

“Bet you’d look so fucking good on my dick too,” Roy says, and Jamie moans at that. 

“Fuck, Roy, fuck I want you to fuck me so badly,” Jamie says, his mouth running like a train. 

“You’re being so good, baby,” Roy says roughly, his hand getting faster and faster, looking at Jamie’s hands, twisting the sheets by his sides, “so good at looking after yourself.” 

Jamie groans at that, somewhere between frustrated and turned on. 

Roy knows he’s about 10 fucking seconds away from coming, so he grabs a couple of tissues from the bedside table. 

“You gonna come?” Jamie says in a way that’s almost reverent.  

“God, fuck, yes ,” Roy says, and he does. Blindingly stroking himself through the orgasm as it rips through him, and it might be the hardest he’s ever come without someone else touching him. He catches it all in the tissues, which he eventually balls up in his hand and throws in the bin near the bed. 

He tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving with it all, and does up his jeans. He finally looks up at Jamie, who’s just staring at him like he’s just witnessed a miracle. Eyes wide, mouth parted. 

“Y’alright?” Roy asks, voice croaky. 

Jamie just nods and swallows deeply, “Fucking more than alright, you’re amazing.” 

And Roy tries not to fucking glow like a lightbulb from the praise, he just leans forward and presses a chaste, closed mouth kiss on Jamie’s lips, and he says into them, “Your turn soon, just gotta make sure you’re okay first.” 

“Can’t wait, just want you to touch me,” Jamie says against Roy’s lips, hot breath over them. 

Roy shivers a little at that, that’s all he fucking wants too. He gives Jamie a final peck on the lips and leans back in his seat again. 

“No more now, though,” Roy says seriously, “that was not being careful.” 

“You closed the door, right?” Jamie asks. 

Roy just nods and Jamie grins. 

“You fucking planned that a little bit, didn’t you?” Jamie asks through his smile. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Roy says. 

“You so fucking would, you want me so bad Kent, I know it,” Jamie says with a laugh. 

“You don’t think me coming just now gave that away?” Roy responds. 

Jamie just keeps smiling and tips his head back and sighs. And Roy thinks it might be the happiest he’s looked since the surgery a few days ago, and if watching Roy fuck his own hand can make that happen, Roy thinks that he might be able to make that sacrifice again if need be. 

***

Jamie’s doctor comes in the next afternoon as Jamie is dozing after trying to read the book that Roy brought for him, an old and worn Dan Brown that he’s had for years and knows is an easy read. Roy keeps sneaking glances at Jamie, cast in early afternoon light, skin almost back to its normal glow, face now free of cannulas, his lips parted gently in light sleep. 

The doctor knocks gently and Jamie starts slightly, and takes a moment before he says “Come in.” 

“Hello Jamie, how are we feeling?” the doctor asks, she’s a commanding presence in the room, is every time she comes in. She’s followed closely by a couple of much younger doctors who are frantically scribbling notes. She nods politely in Roy’s direction and turns back to Jamie. 

He’s wiping at his eyes with his fingers and says through a little bit of sleep, “Yeah, yeah, good.” 

“Any pain? Anything new I should know about?” she asks. 

Jamie shakes his head and says, “No, just normal pain, walking is getting a bit easier.” 

The doctor nods and smiles a little, “Well, all your vitals are looking good, tests are coming back normal, stitches seem to be healing well. You should be looking at going home on Tuesday if everything keeps going this way.” 

Tuesday, that’s in two days , Roy thinks. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at Jamie. He looks like he’s doing a bit of mental maths and then his face breaks into a small smile. 

“Really?” he asks, and it’s so hopeful and sweet that Roy thinks he may just pass away. 

The doctor nods, and says, “As long as you’re still walking well, no infections crop up, and that we can take your drain out, then you’re free to go.” 

“Yeah, that’s amazing, thank you,” Jamie says, glancing over at Roy for a moment and his smile wobbles. 

The doctor checks Jamie’s stitches after that, points out a couple of things to the junior doctors, and talks through the process of emptying the drain with them. Jamie is a good patient, quiet and puts up with the pain of them all touching him, though Roy knows it must hurt like a bitch. 

They eventually leave the room and say they’ll be back tomorrow to look at the drain, see how much it’s still collecting. Then Roy and Jamie are left alone. 

Jamie reaches out a hand, bruised on the back from a couple of different needles piercing into it, Roy grasps it carefully, playing with Jamie's fingers delicately. 

“Going home, eh?” Roy says quietly into the space between them. 

Jamie hums his agreement, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You excited?” Roy asks after a beat. 

Jamie hums again, but it's quieter. 

“You’re going to have to use your words,” Roy says, gently squeezing Jamie’s fingers. 

Jamie pulls in a big breath through his nose, and winces as it inflates his chest and disrupts his stitches. That’s turned out to be the worst thing, doing breathing exercises with the fucking respiratory therapist. Who knew that having stitches right over your diaphragm would fucking hurt that much. 

“Yeah, it’ll be good to get out of here, starting to think I’ll never get the hospital smell out me nose,” Jamie says. 

Roy grunts in affirmation, because he knows that’s fucking true. He goes home each night smelling like too strong antiseptic and faintly of blood. He’s washed his clothes, but he swears it’s still there. 

“I just…,” Jamie starts, and he cuts himself off for a moment before saying in a rush, “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve gotta look after me or nothing. I reckon I’d be fine on me own, I can walk now and I can just order in and-” 

“ Jamie ,” Roy says, and Jamie makes eye contact with him and Roy can see his eyes shining a little, like this has been stuck in him for a while. 

“No really, I’ll be fine,” Jamie says earnestly. 

“Don’t be a stupid fucking prick,” Roy says, but it’s so fucking gentle and there’s no heat at all in the words, “and don’t make me repeat it, but I want to. I like looking after you. So let me.” 

Jamie almost looks confused for a moment, and Roy’s chest seizes up because he knows that Jamie finds it difficult to believe that Roy’s telling the truth, that there is someone out there who really truly wants to take care of him, and who wants the best for him. The fact that he’s been let down so many fucking times, it makes sense, he’s got more evidence that people won’t want to. Roy guesses all he can do is give him more evidence that people will. He can do that. 

Roy lifts Jamie’s hand up to his lips and gently kisses his palm, then places it back down on the bed. 

“Okay,” Jamie says eventually. He smiles a tight lipped smile, like it’s not really that okay, but that he doesn’t want to labour the point any longer. Roy puts a mental pin in the thought process, they can come back to it again later. 

For now he sits and holds Jamie’s hand, and thinks about how he can make sure Jamie can get up the stairs to his bedroom when he takes him back home. 

***

Jamie has been given the final all clear to go home two days later and Roy is wandering around the room collecting things in the Richmond bag that Jamie brought in just under a week ago. A book, a towel, a couple of cards that have turned up in the last couple of days from the team and from Keeley. 

Jamie is sitting up in bed, unhooked from the IV and the machines, the room strangely quiet without all the background medical noise, dripping and beeping. After a while, Roy places down the bag and walks over to Jamie. 

“Want to get dressed?” he asks. Because Jamie is still sitting in an open backed hospital gown with just a pair of briefs on. 

Jamie nods, smiles, and says, “Might be a good idea.” 

“You annoyingly pull it off though,” Roy says. 

“Were there a compliment in there?” Jamie goads. 

“Not that I recall,” Roy grumbles, but he smiles as he pulls out a baggy t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms from Jamie’s bag. 

He walks over to Jamie and helps him pull his legs over the side of the bed, and Roy’s pleased to note that it seems significantly less painful for Jamie than even just a couple of days ago. He pulls the gown off of Jamie’s shoulders, the still red raw scar now a little pink and shiny around the edges, twisting itself across Jamie’s stomach. Roy kind of can’t stop staring at it when it's out like this, wanting to take it all away. 

Jamie clears his throat so quietly that Roy almost misses it, and he looks up quickly to see Jamie staring at him. 

“It’s not gonna fucking bite ya,” Jamie says quietly, almost sadly. 

Roy shakes his head and cups Jamie’s face in his hands, “Just hate to see it.” 

Jamie lowers his eyes, shrugging out of Roy’s hands, “I know, I get it.” 

“No, no, Jamie,” Roy says, sensing he’s said the wrong thing, “I just hate that it’s hurting you, that’s all.” 

Jamie purses his lips into a line and meets Roy’s eyes again, “Yeah, alright.” 

Roy ducks his head down and places a small kiss on the edge of Jamie’s mouth, not quite capturing his lips, and he whispers, “You’re still fucking fit though.” 

Jamie breathes out a laugh and Roy’s chest unclenches, and Jamie moves his head around and reaches up to grab the back of Roy’s head and pulls him into a long kiss. Slow and languid and unhurried in a way that makes Roy feel something scary. Like all of this isn’t just dependent on the fact that Jamie needs someone to help him change shirts and make him a cup of tea. But more like Jamie really wants him around, like he wants to hold onto him for far longer than it will take for his stitches to dissolve. 

Roy pulls back from the kiss, ducking down a little further, coming face to face with the scar. He presses the most delicate kiss to just the edge of it, not quite touching it, he knows fucking infection protocols thank you very much. But he hears Jamie pull in a small breath, not in pain, but in surprise. Roy straightens up and says simple and plain, “Beautiful.” 

Jamie’s face does a funny thing where it twists somewhere between a smile and like he’s about to cry. 

Roy smiles back at him, small and sweet. Then he grabs Jamie’s shirt and dresses him, helping him stand to put his pants on. And when he’s done he calls for the nurse, and Jamie is wheeled down to Roy’s car and they drive back to Jamie’s place together. 

Roy helps Jamie out of the car and into the house, and he’s thankful for the security gate that Jamie has and his own car’s tinted windows, because he’s sure he saw some paps lurking on the street. Trying to get a glimpse. 

Roy deposits Jamie on the couch, Jamie looking more tired than he’s seen him in a few days. He supposes that makes sense, he’s moved about triple the amount in the last hour than he has in the last week. Jamie’s head rests on the pillow behind him, his eyes already lagging. Roy pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and covers him up, and before he can even ask him whether he wants a cup of tea he looks up and sees Jamie’s eyes closed, out for the count. 

***

Roy potters around the house, making some dinner, clearing away some clothes, making sure that Jamie’s bed is comfortable and he’s got all the right meds ready for when Jamie wakes up. 

He does wake up a couple of hours later and Roy walks into the room and sees Jamie on his phone, typing out a few messages, yawning intermittently and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Y’lright?” Roy asks as he walks into the room. 

Jamie looks back at him with tired eyes, and a faint red line across his face from the pillow and nods. 

“Cup of tea?” 

Jamie takes a second and then nods his head. So Roy goes to make one, just how Jamie likes it and comes back with that, a few pills, and a few biscuits. Because the pills don’t work on an empty stomach. 

Jamie accepts them gratefully and they sit in comfortable silence as Jamie eats and drinks for a few minutes. 

“I made up the guest bedroom, that’s okay, right?” Roy asks tentatively. He’d done so whilst Jamie was sleeping, figuring that it would be best to stay here at least for a few days while Jamie settles in, just in case he needs anything. 

“Guest bedroom?” Jamie asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. 

Roy nods and just grunts slightly in affirmation. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Jamie asks, sounding a little bit angry now. 

Roy makes a face and says, “Well, excuse me for fucking thinking you might want me here to help you out.” 

Jamie opens his mouth like he’s about to bite back, then closes it, swallows his words, then opens it again, “I fucking do , you dickhead. Just thinking you’d fucking sleep in my bed, didn’t I?” 

And oh , Roy thinks. He did think briefly about it, but it didn’t want to be presumptuous, didn’t want to assume. 

“Well, I-” Roy starts, but he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence before Jamie jumps in. 

“Unless you don’t want to.” 

“No, I fucking obviously do,” Roy says, finding his voice, “I just didn’t want to force myself on you, and also didn’t want to fucking roll on top of you in the middle of the night or some shit.” 

Jamie smirks a little at that and says, “I think we’re past forcing ourselves on each other, don’t you think?” 

Roy just shrugs and lets out a long exhale. 

“Well, this is me officially inviting you into my bed, Roy Kent,” Jamie says in a faux-official way, a smile in his voice. 

“Fucking alright, relax,” Roy says, smiling now too. He needs to learn how to fucking communicate better, get better at saying what he needs. 

“And how are you supposed to give me a gobby if you’re in the guest bedroom?” Jamie says, smirking in a way that Roy only sees when he’s just scored a fucking banger goal. 

And Roy actually laughs at that, wide and a smile that almost hurts his cheeks. He settles his eyes on Jamie’s face, matching smiles. They look at each other for a moment, and Roy can only hear the dregs of their laughs and the patter of his own heart in his ears. Fuck, I love him. And Roy thinks the thought should scare him, and it does a little, but in a way that feels right, that feels settled and like it’s supposed to be there. A feeling that’s slotted into an empty space that Roy didn’t even know he had. 

***

A few days later, it’s become normal for Roy to wake up with one of his hands gripping tight onto Jamie’s upper arm. Still too scared to actually hold him, lest he hurts him, but he wants to be touching him all the time. Jamie is now able to shuffle slowly around the house on a regular basis without having to take an hour-long rest after going to the bathroom. He seems a little brighter and more lucid, slowly weaning himself off the painkillers he’s been given. 

It’s early morning, and they’ve both woken up. Jamie is downstairs in the kitchen when Roy walks into it, hair dripping a little into his collar from the shower he just had. He has to go to Nelson Road today. The new season is looming, pre-season is starting the next week, and the coaches are meeting to look over scouting reports and training schedules. Roy doesn’t want to fucking go. He wants to stay in the bubble of Jamie’s house, warm and comfortable and light. Doesn’t want to break it. 

Jamie is at the counter, making two cups of tea, he looks over his shoulder at Roy as he walks in and smiles a little at him, still waking up. 

Roy comes up behind him and places his hands on either side of Jamie on the counter, pressing his front into Jamie’s back. He places a gentle kiss on the exposed skin of Jamie’s neck, slow and closed mouth, but Jamie moans so softly and so fucking deep in his chest that Roy opens up his mouth a little to hear more. And he’s rewarded, Jamie breathing out another moan, turning his head to catch Roy’s mouth, whispering into it, “Morning.” 

Roy whispers back, “Morning.” Planting another chaste kiss on Jamie’s temple, before gently moving him out of the way so he can finish the teas, gesturing with his head for Jamie to sit down. Jamie complies, lowering himself still a little gingerly into one of the chairs at the small table in his kitchen. Roy brings over their teas and sits down as well. 

“Feeling okay?” Roy asks. 

Jamie nods and sips at his tea, “Yeah, it’s good. Feeling alright.” 

“Good,” Roy says, and then hesitates before he says, “you know, I could just tell everyone that I can’t come in for a little bit longer, and-” 

Jamie cuts him off with a hand wave as he sips at his tea again, “Don’t be stupid. I’ll be fine, promise.” 

Roy sighs and is about to argue, but then he backs down, he’s trying to learn to be better. To put some trust back in Jamie, that he knows himself well enough, trying to trust that Jamie’s not pushing himself. 

“Okay, but you have to text me at-” 

“At least three times during the day, I fucking know,” Jamie says, rolling his eyes, but it’s fond and soft. 

“Fucking right you will,” Roy grumbles, because he doesn’t necessarily like being made fun of.

Jamie reaches across and grabs Roy’s hand, running a hand around his wrist, gripping gently, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big boy.” 

And Roy knows that, he knows he will be fine, but there’s just this great ache in his chest thinking about something happening to him, and he thinks it’s probably a little unhealthy but he’s allowing it for now because Jamie did just have fucking major surgery and he’s allowed to be a bit fucking worried. 

So Roy leaves the house half an hour later, making sure that Jamie has everything he needs at least twice and he tries to ignore the growing pain in his stomach as he drives to work. He does eventually release it all a little, getting lost in reports, and arguing with Beard over player stats, and a growing feeling of excitement at the season ahead. He texts Jamie and Jamie dutifully texts back quickly, even sending a couple of photos of himself resting on the couch. 

He tries not to be overtly grumpy when the topic of Jamie comes up, that his recovery timeline is putting him in the starting line up almost halfway through the season. Yes, he’ll be fully recovered to return to light training just as the season is starting. But he will have missed all of pre-season, his fitness diminished and the reluctance on the field that players always have after returning from surgery means that he’ll be benched and building up his playing time over at least a couple of months. 

He leaves Nelson Road as the sun is only just beginning to set deep orange in the sky, the summer air warm around his skin. He pulls into Jamie’s driveway and opens the front door and is hit with the smell of cooking food and it smells fucking good . 

Roy walks around a couple of corners before he finds himself in the kitchen doorway, meeting eyes with Jamie who is stirring something over the stovetop. 

“Oh, fuck , you weren’t supposed to be home for another ten minutes,” Jamie whines, face in a grimace. 

Roy’s heart squeezes dangerously in his chest as he realises what is happening, Jamie’s cooking him dinner. 

He looks at him, hunched only a little over the counter, one arm resting on it, almost like he’s holding himself up. He’s probably not quite ready for this yet, but Roy can’t even be arsed to tell him off about it, because he just fucking feels it all too much. 

“Are you fucking cooking me dinner?” Roy asks quietly, reverently. 

Jamie smiles through the grimace, just for a moment, “Uh, yeah, just wanted to thank you for everything. Everything you’ve done for me.” 

Roy drops his bag at his feet and closes the few steps between them. He places his hand at the nape of Jamie’s neck, he takes some of Jamie’s weight in his arms, because he was holding himself up against the counter a bit. Roy kisses him deep and slow, tongue sliding against Jamie’s. 

He pulls back from Jamie, hand still knotted in little fine hairs, and it comes out of his mouth without a second thought, “I might fucking be a bit in love with you.” 

Jamie freezes for a small moment, his eyebrows moving up his forehead a couple of centimetres, then the softest look dawns on his face and Roy catches the smile on his face as Jamie slams his mouth against his, kissing him with a fervour and Roy can feel the grin in it. 

Eventually Jamie releases Roy’s mouth, peppering little tiny pecks as he does, then he says, “ Fuck , I love you too.” 

Roy runs a thumb over Jamie’s bottom lip, then down the front of his chest, stopping short of his stomach. 

“Why don’t you go and sit down, I’ll finish up,” Roy says. 

Jamie shakes his head, “No, then I’m not making you dinner, you sit down.” 

Roy doesn’t want to argue, so he doesn’t, but he does pour out a glass of wine himself and water for Jamie, and sits at the table and watches Jamie move slowly around the kitchen, clearly in a bit of pain, but Roy doesn’t want to ruin this for him. 

After a few more minutes, Jamie brings over two bowls of spaghetti bolognese and a salad. He sets it down proudly and then gently lowers himself into a seat across from Roy. Roy sees him grimacing a little as he picks up his fork and starts eating. 

Through half a mouthful of food, Jamie says, “Hope you like it, it’s kind of all I know how to make all proper like.” 

Roy lifts up a forkful to his own mouth, and he’s gotta give it to Jamie, it’s fucking good. He says as much to Jamie, and he preens under the praise. 

They chat through the meal about what Roy did at work, about the new players coming into the team, about pre-season starting, and then onto Jamie’s recovery timeline. 

“The physio says I can start going on walks next week,” Jamie says, pushing away his plate. 

Roy nods and says, “Good, good. You should come along to training as well, even just to watch.” 

“Yeah, I will, bit fucking depressing though,” Jamie says, “just wanna be playing.” 

“You will be soon, you’ll be back to normal before long,” Roy says, though he knows it’ll be a while. 

Jamie doesn’t say anything for a few long moments, biting the inside of his cheek, then says, “You know, that’s all me dad was worried about before the surgery.” 

And that really stops Roy in his tracks, Jamie hadn’t mentioned his dad in weeks now, and Roy certainly wasn’t going to bring him up. He was wondering up until now whether it would ever happen again. 

He doesn’t say anything back, but looks right in Jamie’s eyes and urges him on. 

“We talked, a few days before the surgery, I had to call him to sort out hospital details and shit. And he were being a bit of a prick, as usual, and he said the only reason I shouldn’t do it is because it’ll fuck up next season,” Jamie says, his hands clenching and unclenching, “but then he said I’d probably find a way to do it anyway.” 

Roy doesn’t quite know what to say, he wants to make it all better, take Jamie away from it all, “I didn’t know you’d talked to him.” 

Jamie just nods slowly, “As much of a prick as he was, he sounded so… sick , and obviously he is, was , I don’t know. But he said that he were in a program, been sober for three months, that he had a sponsor and everything.” 

Roy doesn’t say a thing, just lets Jamie fill the silence, thinking that he needs to say whatever this is. 

“He’s been like this before, when I were younger and he were trying to get me mum back, be dad of the fucking year or some shit. He’d get sober, be pretty good for a few months, then he’d be back on the piss. He don’t seem it, but he’s dead fucking smart, and I think he always thought he could be smarter than his addiction, but he’s just not ,” Jamie finishes, almost angrily. 

Jamie pulls in a deep breath, and whilst gesturing to his stomach he says, “This were probably all for nothing, the programs have never worked before, but I think I’m still glad I did it. Like, I can say that I did what I could, and that I did the good thing. Something that I can be proud of.” 

His eyes are shining now, and his jaw trembling, looking at Roy for some confirmation, that what he’s saying is the right thing. 

Roy reaches over and pushes some hair out of Jamie’s eye and says, “I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself. You’re a good person.” 

Jamie breathes in deep again and nods, like he’s starting to believe it a little bit. It’s the closest that Roy has come to seeing him feel it.

Roy starts to clear the plates away, moving in and out of the kitchen a couple of times, as he comes back to pick up the glasses, Jamie catches his wrist as he moves by him, thumb moving over the soft skin of its underside. 

“Roy, thank you, really,” he says softly. 

“Don’t need to thank me,” Roy says gruffly, it’s all a bit much, how much it feels like Jamie means to him. 

Jamie uses Roy’s arm to push himself up from the seat, “I can think of a few ways to thank you. Start now if you want?” 

Roy smirks and grips Jamie’s upper arm tightly, letting Jamie lean on him a little, “Oh yeah, what were you thinking?” 

“Well, I were thinking that maybe we can do something other than just sleep in bed,” Jamie says, just a little bit seriously. 

Roy hums and then hesitates before he says, “Jamie, I just…I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Jamie says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “I know you won’t.” 

Roy smiles now, softly, “Alright, don’t twist my fucking arm then.” 

He kisses Jamie softly and then deeply and then with a fierceness that elicits a moan straight from Jamie’s chest. And he takes him upstairs and deposits him on the bed, gently and lovingly. He touches him all over, except for the places that hurt, he treats him kindly and Jamie does the same back. Jamie whispers that he loves him in his ear after Roy sucks him off and he’s limbless and floating. Roy lets himself be tugged off by Jamie, kneeling next to him, and he only cares a little that his knee fucking aches, because he just wants Jamie to touch him forever. He never wants to be not touching him. 

He gently wipes down Jamie’s skin with a soft cloth, and lays next to him, head on Jamie’s shoulder, careful not to move him too much. He thinks he could get so used to this it could get dangerous. But he’s happy enough to sit in it for now, now that he knows how good it could be.